The lay of the last minstrel. Illustr. ed |
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Seite vii
... VIGNETTE · J. H. NIXON - 1 * She sits in secret bower , * * * * It was the Spirit of the Flood that spoke , And he called on the Spirit of the Fell . Canto i . , Stanza xii - xiv . VIGNETTE Page C. LANDSEER 23 The minstrel's voice began to.
... VIGNETTE · J. H. NIXON - 1 * She sits in secret bower , * * * * It was the Spirit of the Flood that spoke , And he called on the Spirit of the Fell . Canto i . , Stanza xii - xiv . VIGNETTE Page C. LANDSEER 23 The minstrel's voice began to.
Seite viii
... voice began to fail ; Full slyly smiled the observant page , And gave the withered hand of age A goblet , crowned with mighty wine , The blood of Velez ' scorched vine . Canto ii . , concluding Stanza . MELROSE ABBEY - · G. BARRET - See ...
... voice began to fail ; Full slyly smiled the observant page , And gave the withered hand of age A goblet , crowned with mighty wine , The blood of Velez ' scorched vine . Canto ii . , concluding Stanza . MELROSE ABBEY - · G. BARRET - See ...
Seite xiv
... 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 was soon obtained ; The Aged Minstrel audience gained . But , when he reached the ...
... 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 was soon obtained ; The Aged Minstrel audience gained . But , when he reached the ...
Seite 7
... still and clear ! XIV . From the sound of Teviot's tide , Chafing with the mountain's side , From the groan of the wind - swung oak , From the sullen echo of the rock , From the voice of the coming storm , The Ladye THE LAST MINSTREL . 9.
... still and clear ! XIV . From the sound of Teviot's tide , Chafing with the mountain's side , From the groan of the wind - swung oak , From the sullen echo of the rock , From the voice of the coming storm , The Ladye THE LAST MINSTREL . 9.
Seite 8
sir Walter Scott (bart.) From the voice of the coming storm , The Ladye knew it well ! It was the Spirit of the Flood that spoke , And he called on the Spirit of the Fell . 66 XV . RIVER SPIRIT . Sleep'st thou , brother ? " MOUNTAIN ...
sir Walter Scott (bart.) From the voice of the coming storm , The Ladye knew it well ! It was the Spirit of the Flood that spoke , And he called on the Spirit of the Fell . 66 XV . RIVER SPIRIT . Sleep'st thou , brother ? " MOUNTAIN ...
Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
ancient Angus arms band bard Baron Beattisons beneath betwixt blaze blood blood-hound Border bower Branksome Hall Branksome's brave Buccleuch called CANTO castle Cessford chapel chiefs Clair clan courser crest Cumberland dæmons Dame dead death Douglas dread Earl Earl of Angus English Eskdale Ettrick Forest Ettricke fair on Carlisle fell fight Fleet Street hand harp Hawick head heard heart highnes horse Howard king Kirkwall knight knight of Liddesdale Ladye Ladye's laird lances lands Liddesdale Lord Cranstoun Lord Dacre loud Margaret Melrose Michael MINSTREL moss-trooper Musgrave Naworth Castle ne'er noble o'er ride rode Roslin round rung sayd Scotland Scots Scott Scottish shew shulde Sir William slain song spear Stanza Stanza VI.-page steed stone stood sword ta'en Teviot's Teviotdale thee theyme theyre Thomas Musgrave thou Tinlinn tower tyme Virgilius Walter warriors wave ween wild William of Deloraine wound XIII.-page
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 170 - 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...
Seite 141 - 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.
Seite xi - Was carried by an orphan boy : 'I'hc 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.
Seite xxii - Ten of them were sheathed in steel, With belted sword, and spur on heel : They quitted not their harness bright, Neither by day, nor yet by night ; They lay down to rest, With corslet laced...
Seite 141 - BREATHES there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land ? Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned From wandering on a foreign strand...
Seite 164 - There are twenty of Roslin's barons bold Lie buried within that proud chapelle ; Each one the holy vault doth hold — But the sea holds lovely Rosabelle ! And each St Clair was buried there, With candle, with book, and with knell ; But the sea-caves rung, and the wild winds sung, The dirge of lovely Rosabelle.
Seite xiv - Though stiff his hands, 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.
Seite 204 - O the monks of Melrose made gude kale * On Fridays when they fasted ; They wanted neither beef nor ale, As long as their neighbour's lasted.
Seite 160 - O'er Roslin all that dreary night, A wondrous blaze was seen to gleam ; 'Twas broader than the watch-fire's light, And redder than the bright moon-beam. It glared on Roslin's castled rock, It ruddied all the copse-wood glen ; 'Twas seen from Dryden's groves of oak, And seen from cavern'd Hawthornden.
Seite 160 - 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.