A Tour in Tartan-land

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R. Bently, 1863 - 430 страници

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Страница 224 - In all her length far winding lay, With promontory, creek, and bay, And islands that, empurpled bright, Floated amid the livelier light, And mountains, that like giants stand, To sentinel enchanted land.
Страница 383 - LORD, I have loved the habitation of thy house, and the place where thine honour dwelleth.
Страница 350 - 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.
Страница 335 - Raby there was slain, Whose prowess did surmount. For Witherington needs must I wail As one in doleful dumps ; For when his legs were smitten off, He fought upon his stumps.
Страница 204 - These trees, a veil just half withdrawn; This fall of water, that doth make A murmur near the silent lake...
Страница 133 - Mary! dear departed shade! Where is thy place of blissful rest ? See'st thou thy lover lowly laid? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?
Страница 387 - 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.
Страница 250 - THERE'S not a nook within this solemn Pass, But were an apt confessional for One Taught by his summer spent, his autumn gone, That Life is but a tale of morning grass Withered at eve.
Страница 211 - Had you seen but these roads before they were made, You'd lift up your hands and bless Marshal Wade.
Страница 417 - Thrice happy he, who by some shady grove, Far from the clamorous world, doth live his own ; Though solitary, who is not alone, But doth converse with that eternal Love.

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