The Lay of the Last Minstrel: A PoemLongman, 1806 - 332 Seiten |
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Seite 15
... lost the ease , Which marks security to please ; And scenes , long past , of joy and pain , Came wildering o'er his aged brain— He tried to tune his harp in vain . The pitying Duchess praised its chime , And gave him heart , and gave ...
... lost the ease , Which marks security to please ; And scenes , long past , of joy and pain , Came wildering o'er his aged brain— He tried to tune his harp in vain . The pitying Duchess praised its chime , And gave him heart , and gave ...
Seite 16
... 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 . 1 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL . CANTO FIRST . 16.
... 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 . 1 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL . CANTO FIRST . 16.
Seite 64
... lost the enchanting strain ; Its lightness would my age reprove : My hairs are gray , my limbs are old , My heart is dead , my veins are cold : - I may not , must not , sing of love . XXXI . Beneath an oak , mossed o'er by eld , The ...
... lost the enchanting strain ; Its lightness would my age reprove : My hairs are gray , my limbs are old , My heart is dead , my veins are cold : - I may not , must not , sing of love . XXXI . Beneath an oak , mossed o'er by eld , The ...
Seite 65
... Lost ! lost ! lost ! " And , like tennis - ball by raquet tossed , A leap , of thirty feet and three , Made from the gorse this elfin shape , Distorted like some dwarfish ape , And lighted at Lord Cranstoun's knee . Lord Cranstoun was ...
... Lost ! lost ! lost ! " And , like tennis - ball by raquet tossed , A leap , of thirty feet and three , Made from the gorse this elfin shape , Distorted like some dwarfish ape , And lighted at Lord Cranstoun's knee . Lord Cranstoun was ...
Seite 66
... Lost ! lost ! lost ! " He was waspish , arch , and litherlie , But well Lord Cranstoun served he : And he of his service was full fain ; For once he had been ta'en or slain , An ' it had not been his ministry . All , between Home and ...
... Lost ! lost ! lost ! " He was waspish , arch , and litherlie , But well Lord Cranstoun served he : And he of his service was full fain ; For once he had been ta'en or slain , An ' it had not been his ministry . All , between Home and ...
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ancient arms band bard Baron beneath betwixt Bewcastle blaze blood blood-hound Border Branksome Branksome Hall Branksome's Buccleuch bugle called CANTO castle Cessford chapel chief clan courser crest cross Cumberland dæmons Dame dead death Douglas dread Duke Earl Earl of Angus Eildon hills English Ettricke Ettricke Forest fair on Carlisle Fawdon fight hall hand harp Hawick head heard highnes horse Howard iron James Jedburgh king Kirkwall knight Ladye laird lance lands LAST MINSTREL Liddesdale Lord Dacre Melrose Michael MINSTREL moss-trooper Musgrave Naworth Castle ne'er noble o'er ride rode Roslin round rung sayd Scotland Scots 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
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 169 - 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 ? 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,...
Seite 191 - Blazed battlement and pinnet high, Blazed every rose-carved buttress fair — So still they blaze; when fate is nigh The lordly line of high St. Clair.
Seite 11 - 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.
Seite 19 - 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 15 - 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; And scenes, long past, of joy and pain, Came wildering o'er his aged brain — He tried to tune his harp in vain.
Seite 13 - Newark's stately tower Looks out from Yarrow's birchen bower: The Minstrel gazed with wishful eye — No humbler resting-place was nigh: With hesitating step at last, The embattled portal arch he pass'd, Whose ponderous grate and massy bar Had oft roll'd back the tide of war, But never closed the iron door Against the desolate and poor.
Seite 200 - 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...
Seite 136 - Not that, in sooth, o'er mortal urn Those things inanimate can mourn ; But that the stream, the wood, the gale, Is vocal with the plaintive wail Of those, who, else forgotten long, Lived in the poet's faithful song, And, with the poet's parting breath, Whose memory feels a second death.
Seite 19 - They quitted not their harness bright Neither by day nor yet by night • They lay down to rest, With corslet laced, Pillowed on buckler cold and hard ; They carved at the meal With gloves of steel, And they drank the red wine through the helmet barred.
Seite 191 - 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 filled by Rosabelle.