The Lay of the Last Minstrel: A PoemLongman, Hurst, Rees, and Orme, Paternoster-row, and A. Constable and Company Edinburgh, 1805 - 319 sider |
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Side 6
... noble Duchess deign To listen to an old man's strain , Though stiff his hand , his voice though weak , He thought even yet , the sooth to speak , That , if she loved the harp to hear , He could make music to her ear . The humble boon ...
... noble Duchess deign To listen to an old man's strain , Though stiff his hand , his voice though weak , He thought even yet , the sooth to speak , That , if she loved the harp to hear , He could make music to her ear . The humble boon ...
Side 15
... arms had stood , When Mathouse burn to Melrose ran , All purple with their blood . And well she knew , her mother dread , Before lord Cranstoun she should wed , Would see her on her dying bed : XI . Of noble race the Ladye came ; Her 15.
... arms had stood , When Mathouse burn to Melrose ran , All purple with their blood . And well she knew , her mother dread , Before lord Cranstoun she should wed , Would see her on her dying bed : XI . Of noble race the Ladye came ; Her 15.
Side 16
A Poem Walter Scott. XI . Of noble race the Ladye came ; Her father was a clerk of fame , Of Bethune's line of Picardie : He learned the art , that none may name , In Padua , far beyond the sea . Men said he changed his mortal frame By ...
A Poem Walter Scott. XI . Of noble race the Ladye came ; Her father was a clerk of fame , Of Bethune's line of Picardie : He learned the art , that none may name , In Padua , far beyond the sea . Men said he changed his mortal frame By ...
Side 24
... noble dame , by me ; Letter nor line know I never a one , Wer't my neck - verse at Hairibee * . ' * Hairibee , the place of executing the Border marauders at Car- lisle . The neck - verse is the beginning of the 51st psalm , Miserere ...
... noble dame , by me ; Letter nor line know I never a one , Wer't my neck - verse at Hairibee * . ' * Hairibee , the place of executing the Border marauders at Car- lisle . The neck - verse is the beginning of the 51st psalm , Miserere ...
Side 69
... there beside the warrior stay , And tend him in his doubtful state , And lead him to Branksome castle - gate ' : His noble mind was inly moved For the kinsman of the maid he loved . " This shalt thou do without delay ; No longer 69.
... there beside the warrior stay , And tend him in his doubtful state , And lead him to Branksome castle - gate ' : His noble mind was inly moved For the kinsman of the maid he loved . " This shalt thou do without delay ; No longer 69.
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Almindelige termer og sætninger
ancient arms band bard Baron beneath betwixt blaze blood blood-hound Border bower Branksome Branksome Hall Branksome's brave broken lance Buccleuch called CANTO castle Cessford chapel chief clan courser cross Cumberland dæmons Dame dead devyll Douglas dread Duke Earl Earl of Angus Eildon hills English Ettricke Forest fair on Carlisle fight hall hand harp Hawick heard highnes horse Howard James Jedburgh king Kirkwall knight Ladye laird lance lands LAST MINSTREL Liddesdale Lord Dacre Margaret Melrose Michael MINSTREL moss-trooper Musgrave Naworth Castle ne'er never noble o'er ride rode Roslin round rung sayd Scot Scotland Scottish Scottish Border shew shulde Sir William slain song spear St Clair steed stone stood sun shines fair sword Teviot's Teviotdale thee theyme theyre Thomas Musgrave thou Tinlinn tomb tower Twas tyme Virgilius Walter Scott warden warrior ween wild William of Deloraine wound XXIII
Populære passager
Side 190 - 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...
Side 7 - Where she with all her ladies sate, Perchance he wished his boon denied: For, when to tune his harp he tried, His trembling hand had lost the ease Which marks security to please...
Side 160 - From wandering on a foreign strand ? If such there breathe, go, mark him well; For him no minstrel raptures swell ; High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim, — Despite those titles, power, and pelf, The wretch, concentred all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust from whence he sprung, Unwept, unhonored, and unsung.
Side 137 - True love's the gift which God has given To man alone beneath the heaven : It is not fantasy's hot fire, Whose wishes, soon as granted, fly ; It liveth not in fierce desire, With dead desire it doth not die ; It is the secret sympathy, The silver link, the silken tie, Which heart to heart, and mind to mind, In body and in soul can bind.
Side 180 - 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...
Side 3 - Seemed to have known a better day ; The harp, his sole remaining joy, Was carried by an orphan boy. The last of all the Bards was he, Who sung of Border chivalry; For, well-a-day ! their date was fled, His tuneful brethren all were dead; And he, neglected and oppressed, Wished to be with them, and at rest.
Side 125 - 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 bahn 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.
Side 182 - Blazed battlement and pinnet high, Blazed every rose-carved buttress fair — So still they blaze, when fate is nigh The lordly line of high Saint Clair. There are twenty of Roslin's barons bold Lie buried within that proud chapelle...
Side 44 - Some of his skill he taught to me ; And, warrior, I could say to thee The words that cleft Eildon hills in three, And bridled the Tweed with a curb of stone...
Side 160 - O Caledonia ! stern and wild, Meet nurse for a poetic child ! Land of brown heath and shaggy wood, Land of the mountain and the flood, Land of my sires ! what mortal hand Can e'er untie the filial band, That knits me to thy rugged strand ! Still, as I view each well-known scene, Think what is now, and what hath been, Seems as, to me, of all bereft, Sole friends thy woods and streams were left ; And thus I love them better still, Even in extremity of ill.