The lay of the last minstrel, and The lady of the lake. With intrs. and notes byF.T. Palgrave. From the Globe ed. of Scott's poetical works

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Página 84 - 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 51 - Tis not because the ring they ride, And Lindesay at the ring rides well, But that my sire the wine will chide, If 'tis not fill'd by Rosabelle.
Página 63 - 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 15 - Stuarts' throne; The bigots of the iron time Had called his harmless art a crime. A wandering Harper, scorned and poor, He begged his bread from door to door, And tuned, to please a peasant's ear, The harp a king had loved to hear.
Página 102 - 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 80 - The torrent show'd its glistening pride ; Invisible in flecked sky, The lark sent down her revelry ; The blackbird and the speckled thrush Good-morrow gave from brake and bush ; In answer coo'd the cushat dove Her notes of peace, and rest, and love.
Página 16 - In varying cadence, soft or strong, He swept the sounding chords along: The present scene, the future lot, His toils, his wants, were all forgot: Cold diffidence, and age's frost, In the full tide of song were lost : Each blank, in faithless memory void, The poet's glowing thought supplied ; And, while his harp responsive rung, 'Twas thus the LATEST MINSTREL sung.
Página 113 - 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 61 - The antler'd monarch of the waste 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...
Página 97 - 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 reck'd, where, how, or when, The prowling fox was trapp'd or slain?

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