Poetical works, Band 4

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Seite 24 - 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...
Seite 47 - In peace, Love tunes the shepherd's reed; In war, he mounts the warrior's steed; In halls, in gay attire is seen; In hamlets, dances on the green. Love rules the court, the camp, the grove, And men below, and saints above ; For love is heaven, and heaven is love.
Seite 31 - 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...
Seite lxvi - THE way was long, the wind was cold, The Minstrel was infirm and old; His withered cheek, and tresses gray, Seem'd 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, welladay ! their date was fled, His tuneful brethren all were dead; And he, neglected and oppress'd, Wish'd to be with them, and at rest.
Seite 24 - When the cold light's uncertain shower Streams on the ruined central tower; When buttress and buttress, alternately, Seem framed of ebon and ivory ; When silver edges the imagery, And the scrolls that teach thee to live and die ; When distant Tweed is heard to rave, And the owlet to hoot o'er the dead man's grave, Then go— but go alone the while — Then view St. David's ruined pile ; And, home' returning, soothly swear, Was never scene so sad and fair ! II.
Seite 6 - 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...
Seite 30 - The moon on the east oriel shone Through slender shafts of shapely stone, By foliaged tracery combined; Thou wouldst have thought some fairy's hand 'Twixt poplars straight the osier wand In many a freakish knot had twined; Then framed a spell, when the work was done, And changed the willow wreaths to stone.
Seite 3 - The pitying Duchess praised its chime, And gave him heart, and gave him time. Till every string's according glee Was blended into harmony. And then, he said, he would full fain He could recall an ancient strain He never thought to sing again.
Seite lxvi - 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.
Seite 33 - Lo, warrior ! now, the cross of red Points to the grave of the mighty dead : Within it burns a wondrous light, To chase the spirits that love the night; That lamp shall burn unquenchably, Until the eternal doom shall...

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