The poetical works of sir Walter Scott. Ed., with a critical memoir, by W.M. Rossetti. Illustr |
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The Poetical Works of Sir Walter Scott. Ed. , with a Critical Memoir, by W ... Bart. ) Walter Scott (Sir Sin vista previa disponible - 2015 |
Términos y frases comunes
agen Argentine arms bade band banner bard battle beneath Bertram blood blood-hound bold bore bower brand Branksome Hall brave breast bright Brignal brow Bruce castle cheer courser dark deep Deloraine Douglas dread drew Edinburgh Annual Ettricke Forest fair falchion fame fate fear fell fierce fight gallant glance glen grace gray hall hand harp hast hath hear heard heart heaven hill honoured King knight lady lance land Liddesdale light Lochinvar lonely look Lord Marmion Lorn loud maid maiden minstrel monarch Mortham mountain ne'er noble o'er pale passed pennons pibroch pride Risingham rock Roderick Rokeby's Ronald round rude rung Saint Saxon scarce Scotland Scotland's Scottish shore sire smile song sought sound spear spoke steed stern stood strife sword tale tell thee thine thou tide toil tower train Twas twixt voice wake warrior wave ween wild Wilfrid wind youth
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Página 143 - O, young Lochinvar is come out of the west, Through all the wide Border his steed was the best, And save his good broad-sword he weapons had none ; He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone. So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.
Página 13 - The moon on the east oriel shone Through slender shafts of shapely stone, By foliaged tracery combined; Thou wouldst have thought some fairy's hand 'Twixt poplars straight the osier wand In many a freakish knot had twined; Then framed a spell, when the work was done, And changed the willow wreaths to stone.
Página 59 - And glimmered all the dead men's mail. Blazed battlement and pinnet high, Blazed every rose-carved buttress fair — So still they blaze, when fate is nigh The lordly line of high St Clair.
Página 190 - The western waves of ebbing day Rolled o'er the glen their level way ; Each purple peak, each flinty spire, Was bathed in floods of living fire. But not a setting beam could glow Within the dark ravines below, Where twined the path, in shadow hid, Round many a rocky pyramid, Shooting abruptly from the dell Its thunder-splintered pinnacle ; Round many an insulated mass, The native bulwarks of the pass, Huge as the tower which builders vain Presumptuous piled on Shinar's plain.
Página 143 - Eske River where ford there was none: But ere he alighted at Netherby gate The bride had consented, the gallant came late: For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.
Página 171 - Not lighter does the swallow skim Along the smooth lake's level brim: And when Lord Marmion reached his band, He halts, and turns with clenched hand, And shout of loud defiance pours, And shook his gauntlet at the towers. ' Horse ! horse ! ' the Douglas cried, ' and chase ! ' But soon he reined his fury's pace: ' A royal messenger he came, Though most unworthy of the name.
Página 187 - Sprung from his heathery couch in haste. But ere his fleet career he took, The dew-drops from his flanks he shook; Like crested leader proud and high Tossed his beamed frontlet to the sky; A moment gazed adown the dale, A moment snuffed the tainted gale, A moment listened to the cry, That thickened as the chase drew nigh; Then, as the headmost foes appeared, With one brave bound the copse he cleared, And, stretching forward free and far, Sought the wild heaths of Uam-Var.
Página 193 - And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace A Nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace, Of finer form, or lovelier face ! What though the sun, with ardent frown, Had slightly tinged her cheek with brown, — The sportive toil, which, short and light, Had dyed her glowing hue so bright, Served too in hastier swell to show Short glimpses of a breast of snow : What though no rule of courtly grace To measured mood had train'd her pace, — A foot more light, a step more true, Ne'er from the heath-flower dash'd the dew; E'en...
Página 177 - Rushed with bare bosom on the spear, And flung the feeble targe aside, And with both hands the broadsword plied, 'Twas vain: — But Fortune, on the right, With fickle smile, cheered Scotland's fight.
Página 191 - And now, to issue from the glen, No pathway meets the wanderer's ken. Unless he climb, with footing nice, A far projecting precipice. The broom's tough roots his ladder made, The hazel saplings lent their aid...