The Lands of ScottHoughton, Mifflin, 1880 - 508 páginas |
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Términos y frases comunes
Abbey Abbotsford action Amy Robsart ancient appeared arch associated ballad beautiful Ben Ledi beneath Border bride built castle celebrated chapter character charming chief church Covenanters crags Cumnor curious dark delightful described Douglas Duke Earl edifice Edinburgh England excursion fair Fast Castle father feet high Glasgow glen gray Guy Mannering Hall Highland hills hundred Innerleithen interesting Isle Ivanhoe King Knight Lady lake land latter lived Loch lofty Lord Marmion mediæval Melrose miles mountain nearly noble novel o'er Old Mortality once Osbaldistone perhaps picturesque pleasant poem portion Queen Redgauntlet region rising Rob Roy rock Rokeby Park romantic route royal ruins Saint scene scenery Scotland Scottish seat side Sir Walter Sir Walter Scott sketched Smailholm Tower stone story style thence thou tower town travellers Tweed vale walls Walter Scott Waverley wild writer wrote Yarrow
Pasajes populares
Página 31 - That day of wrath, .that dreadful day, When heaven and earth shall pass away, What power shall be the sinner's stay ? How shall he meet that dreadful day ? When, shrivelling like a parched scroll, The flaming heavens together roll ; When louder yet, and yet more dread, Swells the high trump that wakes the dead ! Oh ! on that day, that wrathful day, When man to judgment wakes from clay, Be THOU the trembling sinner's stay, Though heaven and earth shall pass away ! HUSH'D is the harp — the Minstrel...
Página 47 - I tell thee thou'rt defied! And if thou saidst I am not peer To any lord in Scotland here, Lowland or Highland, far or near, Lord Angus, thou hast lied!
Página 47 - Part we in friendship from your land, And, noble Earl, receive my hand." — But Douglas round him drew his cloak, Folded his arms, and thus he spoke: — " My manors, halls, and bowers, shall still Be open at my sovereign's will, To each one whom he lists, howe'er Unmeet to be the owner's peer. My castles are my king's alone, From turret to foundation-stone — The hand of Douglas is his own : And never shall in friendly grasp The hand of such as Marmion clasp.
Página 476 - CALL it not vain ¡—they do not err, Who say, that when the Poet dies, Mute Nature mourns her worshipper, And celebrates his obsequies : Who say, tall cliff, and cavern lone, For the departed Bard make moan ; That mountains weep in crystal rill ; That flowers in tears of balm distil ; Through his loved groves that breezes sigh, And oaks, in deeper groan, reply; And rivers teach their rushing wave To murmur dirges round his grave.
Página 70 - 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...
Página 41 - When sated with the martial show That peopled all the plain below, The wandering eye could o'er it go, And mark the distant city glow With gloomy splendour red ; For on the smoke-wreaths, huge and slow, That round her sable turrets flow, The morning beams were shed, And tinged them with a lustre proud, Like that which streaks a thunder-cloud. Such dusky grandeur clothed the height, Where the huge castle holds its state, And all the steep slope down, Whose ridgy back heaves to the sky, Piled deep...
Página 54 - 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 47 - Douglas' head ! And, first, I tell thee, haughty peer, He who does England's message here, Although the meanest in her state, May well, proud Angus, be thy mate ! "And, Douglas, more I tell thee here...
Página 55 - 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...
Página 291 - When the broken arches are black in night, And each shafted oriel glimmers white; When the cold light's uncertain shower Streams on the ruined central tower; When buttress and buttress, alternately, Seem framed of ebon and ivory...