The Waverley Novels, Volume 2

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A. and C. Black, 1870

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Page 104 - The bell strikes one. We take no note of time, But from its loss. To give it then a tongue Is wise in man. As if an angel spoke, I feel the solemn sound. If heard aright, It is the, knell of my departed hours : Where are they?
Page 213 - A man may see how this world goes, with no eyes. Look with thine ears: see how yon' justice rails upon yon' simple thief. Hark, in thine ear: Change places; and, handydandy, which is the justice, which is the thief?
Page 338 - Bring me to the test, And I the matter will re-word, which madness Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace, Lay not that flattering unction to your soul, That not your trespass, but my madness speaks.
Page 75 - His eye-balls farther out than when he lived. Staring full ghastly like a strangled man : His hair uprear'd, his nostrils stretch'd with struggling ; His hands abroad display'd, as one that grasp'd And tugg'd for life, and was by strength subdued.
Page 111 - Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge; thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God: where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried: the Lord do so to me, and more also, if aught but death part thee and me.
Page 186 - Nor board nor garner own we now, Nor roof nor latched door, Nor kind mate, bound, by holy vow, To bless a good man's store. Noon lulls us in a gloomy den, And night is grown our day ; Uprouse ye, then, my merry men ! And use it as ye may.
Page 167 - Your sportive fury, pitiless, to pour Loose on the nightly robber of the fold Him, from his craggy winding haunts unearth'd, Let all the thunder of the chase pursue. Throw the broad ditch behind you ; o'er the hedge High bound, resistless...
Page 49 - With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and...
Page 65 - Bertram — what do ye glower after our folk for? — There's thirty hearts there, that wad hae wanted bread ere ye had wanted sunkets, and spent their lifeblood ere ye had scratched your finger. Yes — there's thirty yonder, from the auld wife of an hundred to the babe that was born last week, that ye have turned out o' the bits o' bields, to sleep with the tod and the black-cock in the muirs!
Page 403 - There was a dead silence in the cavern, only interrupted by the low and suppressed moaning of the wounded female, and by the hard breathing of the prisoner. CHAPTER FIFTY-FIFTH.

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