The Lay of the Last Minstrel: A Poem

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Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown, 1811 - 295 страници
 

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Страница 141 - 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!
Страница 139 - Nor tempt the stormy firth to-day. ' The blackening wave is edged with white; To inch and rock the sea-mews fly; The fishers have heard the Water-Sprite, Whose screams forebode that wreck is nigh. ' Last night the gifted Seer did view A wet shroud swathed round ladye gay; Then stay thee, Fair, in Ravensheuch; Why cross the gloomy firth to-day?
Страница 109 - True love's the gift which God has given To man alone beneath the heaven : It is not fantasy's hot fire, Whose wishes, soon as granted, fly ; It liveth not in fierce desire, With dead desire it doth not die ; It is the secret sympathy, The silver link, the silken tie, Which heart to heart, and mind to mind, In body and in soul can bind.
Страница 124 - 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 ! Still, as I view each well-known scene, Think what is now, and what hath been, Seems as, to me, of all bereft, Sole friends thy woods and streams were left ; And thus I love them better still, Even in extremity of ill. By Yarrow's stream still let me stray, Though none should guide my feeble...
Страница 37 - The moon on the east oriel shone Through slender shafts of shapely stone, By foliaged tracery combined ; Thou would'st have thought some fairy's hand 'Twixt poplars straight the ozier 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 7 - 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.
Страница 123 - 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, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust from whence he sprung, Unwept, unhonored, and unsung.
Страница 53 - 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 13 - THE feast was over in Branksome tower, And the Ladye had gone to her secret bower ; Her bower, that was guarded by word and by spell, Deadly to hear, and deadly to tell — Jesu Maria, shield us well ! No living wight save the Ladye alone, Had dared to cross the threshold stone.
Страница 147 - 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...

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