The Lady of the LakeDaved Bogue, 1838 - 344 páginas |
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Página 18
... yonder meadow , far away , The turrets of a cloister gray . How blithely might the bugle - horn Chide , on the lake , the lingering morn ! How sweet , at eve , the lover's lute Chime , when the groves were still and mute ! And , when ...
... yonder meadow , far away , The turrets of a cloister gray . How blithely might the bugle - horn Chide , on the lake , the lingering morn ! How sweet , at eve , the lover's lute Chime , when the groves were still and mute ! And , when ...
Página 24
... ; Before the heath had lost the dew , This morn , a couch was pulled for you ; On yonder mountain's purple head Have ptarmigan and heath - cock bled , And our broad nets have swept the mere , To 24 THE LADY OF THE LAKE .
... ; Before the heath had lost the dew , This morn , a couch was pulled for you ; On yonder mountain's purple head Have ptarmigan and heath - cock bled , And our broad nets have swept the mere , To 24 THE LADY OF THE LAKE .
Página 34
... yonder glen , How thy gallant steed lay dying . Huntsman , rest ! thy chase is done , Think not of the rising sun , For , at dawning to assail ye , Here no bugles sound reveille . " - XXXIII . The hall was cleared - the Stranger's bed ...
... yonder glen , How thy gallant steed lay dying . Huntsman , rest ! thy chase is done , Think not of the rising sun , For , at dawning to assail ye , Here no bugles sound reveille . " - XXXIII . The hall was cleared - the Stranger's bed ...
Página 41
... Stranger on his way again , Morn's genial influence roused a Minstrel gray , And sweetly o'er the lake was heard thy strain , Mix'd with the sounding harp , O white - haired Allan - bane ! II . SONG . " Not faster yonder rowers ' THE ...
... Stranger on his way again , Morn's genial influence roused a Minstrel gray , And sweetly o'er the lake was heard thy strain , Mix'd with the sounding harp , O white - haired Allan - bane ! II . SONG . " Not faster yonder rowers ' THE ...
Página 42
Walter Scott. II . SONG . " Not faster yonder rowers ' might Flings from their oars the spray , Not faster yonder rippling bright , That tracks the shallop's course in light , Melts in the lake away , Than men from memory erase The ...
Walter Scott. II . SONG . " Not faster yonder rowers ' might Flings from their oars the spray , Not faster yonder rippling bright , That tracks the shallop's course in light , Melts in the lake away , Than men from memory erase The ...
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Términos y frases comunes
appeared arms ballad band battle Ben-venue blade blood bold brand Brantome brave breast broadsword brow called CANTO castle chase chief Chieftain clan Clan-Alpine's Cross deep deer Douglas dread dream drew Duergar Earl of Angus Ellen fair fairy fear Fiery Cross Fitz-James Gael gallant gave glance glen grace gray hand harp hear heard heart heath heaven Highland hill honour hounds isle James John Gunn king Lady lake land Loch-Katrine Lord loud lowland Macgregor maid maiden merry Minstrel morning mountain ne'er night noble NOTE o'er pass Perthshire pibroch plaid poem rock Roderick Dhu round Rowland Yorke Saint Modan Saxon Scotland Scott Scottish side Sir Walter Sir Walter Scott sire snood song sound spear speed stag Stanza steed Stirling Stirling Castle stood stranger sword thee thine thou tide Twas Urisk warrior wave Waverley Novels wild yonder
Pasajes populares
Página 100 - 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. Fleet foot on the correi...
Página 174 - Bold Saxon ! to his promise just, Vich-Alpine has discharged his trust. This murderous Chief, this ruthless man, This head of a rebellious clan, Hath led thee safe, through watch and ward, Far past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard.
Página 177 - Fitz-James's blade was sword and shield. He practised every pass and ward, To thrust, to strike, to feint, to guard; While less expert, though stronger far, The Gael maintained unequal war. Three times in closing strife they stood, And thrice the Saxon blade drank blood; No stinted draught, no scanty tide, The gushing flood the tartans dyed.
Página 235 - Midst furs and silks and jewels sheen He stood, in simple Lincoln green, The centre of the glittering ring, — And Snowdoun's Knight is Scotland's King!
Página 34 - Sleep ! the deer is in his den ; Sleep ! thy hounds are by thee lying ; Sleep ! nor dream in yonder glen, How thy gallant steed lay dying. Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done, Think not of the rising sun, For, at dawning to assail ye, Here no bugles sound reveille."— XXXIII.
Página 113 - It was but with that dawning morn That Roderick Dhu had proudly sworn To drown his love in war's wild roar, Nor think of Ellen Douglas more; But he who stems a stream with sand, And fetters flame with flaxen band, Has yet a harder task to prove — By firm resolve to conquer love...
Página 170 - At once with full five hundred men, As if the yawning hill to heaven A subterranean host had given. Watching their leader's beck and will, All silent there they stood, and still. Like the loose crags, whose threatening mass Lay tottering o'er the hollow pass, As if an infant's touch' could urge Their headlong passage down the verge, With step and weapon forward flung, Upon the mountain-side they hung.
Página 155 - I dare ! to him and all the band He brings to aid his murderous hand." " Bold words ! — but, though the beast of game The privilege of chase may claim, Though space and law the stag we lend, Ere hound we slip, or bow we bend, Who ever...
Página 121 - tis budding new, And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears ; The rose is sweetest washed with morning dew, And love is loveliest when embalmed in tears.
Página 176 - 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.