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ancient arms band banner bard baron battle battle of Methven beneath blood blood-hound bold brave breast brow Bruce called castle chief clan courser dark death deep Deloraine Douglas dread E'en earl earl of Angus English Ettrick forest fair falchion fame fear fell fight fire gallant glance glen grace gray hall hand harp hast hath head hear heard heart heaven highland hill holy honour horse hound Isles James John king knight lady land light look lord Lorn loud maid Marmion minstrel Mortham moss-trooper mountain ne'er noble Norham o'er pennon pride Risingham rock Rokeby round rude saint Saxon scene Scot Scotland Scott Scottish seemed sir Walter Scott slain song sought sound spear steed stone stood sword tale tell thee thine thou tide tower Twas wake warrior wave ween wild wind word youth
Страница 93 - I tell thee, thou'rt defied ! And if thou said'st, I am not peer To any lord in Scotland here, Lowland or Highland, far or near, Lord Angus, thou hast lied...
Страница 97 - Edmund is down ; — my life is reft ; — The Admiral alone is left Let Stanley charge with spur of fire, — With Chester charge, and Lancashire, Full upon Scotland's central host, Or victory and England's lost — Must I bid twice ? — hence, varlets ! fly ! Leave Marmion here alone — to die.
Страница 83 - So stately his form, and so lovely her face, That never a hall such a galliard did grace; While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume; And the bridemaidens whispered, "Twere better by far To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar.
Страница 158 - 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 ! Forth from the pass in tumult driven, Like chaff before the wind of heaven, The archery appear: For life ! for life ! their...
Страница 425 - WHY weep ye by the tide, ladie? Why weep ye by the tide? I'll wed ye to my youngest son, And ye sail be his bride: And ye sail be his bride, ladie, Sae comely to be seen" — But aye she loot the tears down fa
Страница 21 - O Caledonia ! stern and wild, Meet nurse for a poetic child ! Land of brown heath and shaggy wood, Land of the mountain and the flood, Land of my sires ! what mortal hand Can e'er untie the filial band, That knits me to thy rugged strand...
Страница 204 - I list no more the tuck of drum, No more the trumpet hear; But when the beetle sounds his hum My comrades take the spear.
Страница 151 - Fitz-James's blade was sword and shield. He practised every pass and ward, To thrust, to strike, to feint, to guard; While less expert, though stronger far, The Gael maintained unequal war. Three times in closing strife they stood, And thrice the Saxon blade drank blood; No stinted draught, no scanty tide, The gushing flood the tartans dyed.