The Poetical Works of Sir Walter Scott, Bart. ..., Volumen3

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A. and C. Black, 1880
 

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Página 125 - One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, When they reach'd the hall-door, and the charger stood near; So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung, So light to the saddle before her he sprung! "She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur; They'll have fleet steeds that follow,
Página 124 - Among bridesmen and kinsmen, and brothers and all: Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword, (For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word), " O, come ye in peace here or come ye in war, Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar...
Página 104 - O that I were where Helen lies! Night and day on me she cries; Out of my bed she bids me rise, Says, 'Haste and come to me!
Página 49 - I hae been to the wild wood; mother, make my bed soon, For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie down.
Página 260 - Blow up the fire, my maidens! Bring water from the well! For a' my house shall feast this night, Since my three sons are well.
Página 104 - I wish I were where Helen lies; Night and day on me she cries ; O that I were where Helen lies On fair Kirconnell lea ! Curst be the heart that thought the thought, And curst the hand that fired the shot, When in my arms burd Helen dropt, And died to succour me ! 0 think na but my heart was sair When my Love dropt down and spak nae mair! 1 laid her down wi...
Página 182 - Is there ony room at your head, Saunders? Is there ony room at your feet? Or ony room at your side, Saunders, Where fain, fain, I wad sleep?' 'There's nae room at my head, Marg'ret, There's nae room at my feet; My bed it is fu' lowly now, Amang the hungry worms I sleep.
Página 316 - But if fond love thy heart can gain, I never broke a vow ; Nae maiden lays her skaith to me, I never loved but you. For you alone I ride the ring, For you I wear the blue; For you alone...
Página 7 - For your strokes they are wondrous sair; True lovers I can get many a ane, But a father I can never get mair.
Página 205 - Take down, take down, that mast o' gowd ! Set up a mast o' tree ! It disna become a forsaken lady To sail sae royallie." When the cock had crawn, and the day did dawn, And the sun began to peep, Then up and raise him Lord Gregory, And sair, sair did he weep.

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