The Complete Poetical Works of Scott |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 99
Page xxi
... bright over a bed of milk - white pebbles , unless here and there where it darkened into a deep pool , overhung as yet only by the birches and alders which had survived the statelier growth of the primitive forest ; and the first hour ...
... bright over a bed of milk - white pebbles , unless here and there where it darkened into a deep pool , overhung as yet only by the birches and alders which had survived the statelier growth of the primitive forest ; and the first hour ...
Page xxiii
... bright ideas in my mind , haste to commit them to paper , and count them monthly , as the means of planting such groves , and purchasing such wastes ; replacing my dreams of fiction by other prospective visions of walks by- " Fountain ...
... bright ideas in my mind , haste to commit them to paper , and count them monthly , as the means of planting such groves , and purchasing such wastes ; replacing my dreams of fiction by other prospective visions of walks by- " Fountain ...
Page 5
... bright ; I cannot stay till day . ' Busk , busk , and boune ! Thou mount'st behind Upon my black barb steed : O'er stock and stile , a hundred miles , We haste to bridal bed . ' ' To - night - to - night a hundred miles ! - O dearest ...
... bright ; I cannot stay till day . ' Busk , busk , and boune ! Thou mount'st behind Upon my black barb steed : O'er stock and stile , a hundred miles , We haste to bridal bed . ' ' To - night - to - night a hundred miles ! - O dearest ...
Page 13
... bright , All dropping wet her robes of green . 150 All dropping wet her garments seem ; Chilled was her cheek , her bosom bare , As , bending o'er the dying gleam , 8 She wrung the moisture from her hair . 160 With maiden blush she ...
... bright , All dropping wet her robes of green . 150 All dropping wet her garments seem ; Chilled was her cheek , her bosom bare , As , bending o'er the dying gleam , 8 She wrung the moisture from her hair . 160 With maiden blush she ...
Page 15
... bright Of the English foemen told . The bittern clamored from the moss , The wind blew loud and shrill : Yet the craggy pathway she did cross To the eiry Beacon Hill . ' I watched her steps , and silent came Where she sat her on a stone ...
... bright Of the English foemen told . The bittern clamored from the moss , The wind blew loud and shrill : Yet the craggy pathway she did cross To the eiry Beacon Hill . ' I watched her steps , and silent came Where she sat her on a stone ...
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
ancient arms band banner bard battle beneath blood bold Bonny Dundee bower brand Branksome Hall brave breast bright broadsword brow Bruce called CANTO castle courser dark death deep Deloraine Douglas dread Earl Ettrick Forest fair falchion fame fate fear fell fierce fight fire gallant glance glen grace gray hall hand harp hast hath head hear heard heart heaven hill holy Holy Island honor horse isle King knight lady land light Lindisfarne Loch Katrine lone look Lord loud maid maiden Marmion minstrel morning Mortham moss-trooper mountain ne'er noble Norham o'er Old Play pale pibroch poem pride Risingham rock Roderick Rokeby round Saint Saint Cuthbert Saxon scene Scotland Scott Scottish song sought soul sound spear steed stern stood sword tale tell thee thine thou tide tower voice wake warrior wave ween wild wind
Popular passages
Page 149 - O woman ! in our hours of ease, uncertain, coy, and hard to please, and variable as the shade by the light, quivering aspen made ; when pain and anguish wring the brow, a ministering angel thou...
Page 441 - Proud Maisie is in the wood, Walking so early; Sweet Robin sits on the bush, Singing so rarely. '"Tell me, thou bonny bird. When shall I marry me?' 'When six braw gentlemen Kirkward shall carry ye.' '"Who makes the bridal bed, Birdie, say truly?' — 'The grey-headed sexton, That delves the grave duly. "The glow-worm o'er grave and stone Shall light thee steady; The owl from the steeple sing, 'Welcome, proud lady.
Page 130 - Eske river where ford there was none ; But ere he alighted at Netherby gate The bride had consented, the gallant came late: For a laggard in love and a dastard in war Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar. So boldly he entered...
Page 51 - IF thou wouldst view fair Melrose aright, Go visit it by the pale moonlight; For the gay beams of lightsome day Gild but to flout the ruins gray.
Page 51 - When the cold light's uncertain shower Streams on the ruined central tower ; When buttress and buttress, alternately, Seem framed of ebon and ivory ; When silver edges the imagery, And the scrolls that teach thee to live and die ; When distant Tweed is heard to rave, And the owlet to hoot o'er the dead man's grave; Then go — but go alone the while — Then view St David's ruined pile ; And, home returning, soothly swear, Was never scene so sad and fair ! II.
Page 74 - 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 ! 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.
Page 57 - 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.
Page 74 - 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...
Page 46 - 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; For, well-a-day!
Page 177 - 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.