Scott's Lady of the LakeMacmillan, 1892 - 261 páginas |
Otras ediciones - Ver todas
Términos y frases comunes
Achray adjective ballad band battle blade blood bold brand brave brow called Canto castle chase chief Chieftain clan Clan-Alpine's crest dative deep deer derived Douglas Earl Ellen English Etym Faery Queene fair fairy fear Fiery Cross Fitz-James flung French Gaelic glance glen grace Græme grey hand harp heart heaven Highland hill hounds intransitive verb James John Gunn King knight lady lake Latin light Loch Achray Loch Earn Loch Katrine Loch Lomond Loch Voil Lord Low Latin maid maiden Malcolm means merry Minstrel morning mountain ne'er noble noun numbers o'er participle pennon Perthshire pibroch plaid poem poetry pride rock Roderick Dhu Saint Modan Saxon Scotland Scott seem'd Shakespeare sire snood song spear speed stag steed stranger stream sword tartan Teith thee thine thou tide toil Trosachs turn'd Vennachar verb wave wild wind wont word xxvi xxvii
Pasajes populares
Página 9 - In all her length far winding lay, With promontory, creek, and bay, And islands that, empurpled bright, Floated amid the livelier light, And mountains, that like giants stand, To sentinel enchanted land.
Página 107 - His back against a rock he bore, And firmly placed his foot before : — "Come one, come all ! this rock shall fly From its firm base as soon as I.
Página 8 - Where glistening streamers waved and danced, The wanderer's eye could barely view The summer heaven's delicious blue; So wondrous wild, the whole might seem The scenery of a fairy dream.
Página 62 - He is gone on the mountain, He is lost to the forest, Like a summer-dried fountain, When our need was the sorest. The font reappearing, From the rain-drops shall borrow, But to us comes no cheering, To Duncan no morrow ! The hand of the reaper Takes the ears that are hoary, But the voice of the weeper Wails manhood in glory. The autumn winds rushing Waft the leaves that are searest, But our flower was in flushing, When blighting was nearest.
Página 111 - It nerves my heart, it steels my sword ; For I have sworn this braid to stain In the best blood that warms thy vein. Now, truce, farewell ! and ruth, begone ! — Yet think not that by thee alone, Proud Chief ! can courtesy be shown ; Though not from copse, or heath, or cairn, Start at my whistle clansmen stern, Of this small horn one feeble blast Would fearful odds against thee cast. But fear not — doubt not — which thou wilt — We try this quarrel hilt to hilt.
Página 12 - And seldom was a snood amid Such wild luxuriant ringlets hid, Whose glossy black to shame might bring The plumage of the raven's wing ; And seldom o'er a breast so fair, Mantled a plaid with modest care, And never brooch the folds combined Above a heart more good and kind. Her kindness and her worth to spy, You need but gaze on Ellen's eye : Not Katrine, in her mirror blue, Gives back the shaggy banks more true...
Página 138 - The Minstrel came once more to view The eastern ridge of Benvenue, For, ere he parted, he would say Farewell to lovely Loch Achray — , Where shall he find, in foreign land, So lone a lake, so sweet a strand...
Página 51 - TIME rolls his ceaseless course. The race of yore Who danced our infancy upon their knee, And told our marvelling boyhood legends store, Of their strange ventures happ'd by land or sea, How are they blotted from the things that be...
Página 11 - The maiden paused, as if again She thought to catch the distant strain. With head upraised, and look intent, And eye and ear attentive bent, And locks flung back and lips apart, Like monument of Grecian art, In listening mood, she seem'd to stand, The guardian Naiad of the strand. And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace A Nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace, Of finer form, or lovelier face...
Página 139 - That swathes, as with a purple shroud, Benledi's distant hill. Is it the thunder's solemn sound That mutters deep and dread, Or echoes from the groaning ground The warrior's measured tread ? Is it the lightning's quivering glance That on the thicket streams, Or do they flash on spear and lance The sun's retiring beams...