The Poetical Works of Sir Walter Scott: With a Memoir of the Author, Volumen3

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Little, Brown, 1857
 

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Página 280 - Who makes the bridal bed, Birdie, say truly?' "The grey-headed sexton, That delves the grave duly.* The glowworm o'er grave and stone Shall light thee steady; The owl from the steeple sing, 'Welcome, proud lady.
Página 421 - I am but the Queen of fair Elfland, That am hither come to visit thee. ' Harp and carp, Thomas,' she said ; ' Harp and carp along wi' me ; And if ye dare to kiss my lips, Sure of your bodie I will be.' — ' Betide me weal, betide me woe, That weird shall never daunton me.' — Syne he has kiss'd her rosy lips, All underneath the Eildon Tree.
Página 343 - I do love these ancient ruins. We never tread upon them but we set Our foot upon some reverend history; And, questionless, here in this open court, Which now lies naked to the injuries Of stormy weather, some men lie...
Página 422 - And see not ye that bonny road, That winds about the fernie brae ? That is the road to fair Elfland, Where thou and I this night maun gae. " But, Thomas, ye mavin hold your tongue, Whatever ye may hear or see ; For, if you speak word in Elflyn land, Ye'll ne'er get back to your ain countrie.
Página 278 - He that is down needs fear no fall; He that is low no pride; He that is humble ever shall Have God to be his guide.
Página 192 - Far in the bosom of the deep, O'er these wild shelves my watch I keep; A ruddy gem of changeful light, Bound on the dusky brow of night, The seaman bids my lustre hail, And scorns to strike his timorous. sail.
Página 90 - Eske's fair streams that run, O'er airy steep, through copsewood deep, Impervious to the sun ; There the rapt poet's step may rove And yield the muse the day, There Beauty led by timid Love May shun the tell-tale ray, — From that fair dome where suit is paid By blast of bugle free, To Auchendinny's hazel glade And haunted Woodhouselee.
Página 163 - To lay down thy head like the meek mountain lamb, When, wilder'd, he drops from some cliff huge in stature, And draws his last sob by the side of his dam.
Página 76 - The bittern clamour'd from the moss, The wind blew loud and shrill ; Yet the craggy pathway she did cross To the eiry beacon hill. " I watch'd her steps, and silent came Where she sat her on a stone ; No watchman stood by the dreary flame, It burned all alone. " The second night I kept her in sight, Till to the fire she came ; And, by Mary's might ! an armed knight Stood by the lonely flame.
Página 293 - And oh, when stoops on Judah's path In shade and storm the frequent night, Be THOU long-suffering, slow to wrath, A burning, and a shining light. Our...

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