The poetical works of Sir Walter Scott: With memoir and critical dissertation

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Страница 103 - 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 ! Hushed is the harp — the Minstrel...
Страница 189 - Soldier, rest ! thy warfare o'er, Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking ; Dream of battled fields no more, Days of danger, nights of waking. In our isle's enchanted hall, Hands unseen thy couch are strewing, Fairy strains of music fall, Every sense in slumber dewing. Soldier, rest ! thy warfare o'er, Dream of fighting fields no more; Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, Morn of toil, nor night of waking.
Страница 2 - 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.
Страница 1 - THE way was long, the wind was cold, The Minstrel was infirm and old; His withered cheek, and tresses gray, 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...
Страница 170 - THE Stag at eve had drunk his fill, Where danced the moon on Monan's rill, And deep his midnight lair had made In lone Glenartney's hazel shade...
Страница 232 - He is gone on the mountain, He is lost to the forest, Like a summer-dried fountain, When our need was the sorest. The font, reappearing, From the rain-drops shall borrow, But to us comes no cheering, To Duncan no morrow ! The hand of the reaper Takes the ears that are hoary, But the voice of the weeper Wails manhood in glory ; The autumn winds rushing Waft the leaves that are searest, But our flower was in flushing, When blighting was nearest.
Страница 208 - Some feelings are to mortals given, With less of earth in them than heaven ; And if there be a human tear From passion's dross refined and clear, A tear so limpid and so meek, It would not stain an angel's cheek, 'Tis that which pious fathers shed Upon a duteous daughter's head...
Страница 33 - 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.
Страница 270 - I dare ! to him and all the band He brings to aid his murderous hand." " Bold words ! — but, though the beast of game The privilege of chase may claim, Though space and law the stag we lend, Ere hound we slip, or bow we bend, Who ever...
Страница 315 - At once there rose so wild a yell Within that dark and narrow dell, As all the fiends, from heaven that fell, Had pealed the banner-cry of hell...

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