The lay of the last minstrel. Illustr. ed |
From inside the book
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Page 25
... lands and livings , many a rood , Had gifted the shrine for their souls ' repose . III . Bold Deloraine his errand said ; The porter bent his humble head ; With torch in hand , and feet unshod , And noiseless step , the path he trode ...
... lands and livings , many a rood , Had gifted the shrine for their souls ' repose . III . Bold Deloraine his errand said ; The porter bent his humble head ; With torch in hand , and feet unshod , And noiseless step , the path he trode ...
Page 82
... lands round Oakwood tower , And wide round haunted Castle - Ower ; High over Borthwick's mountain - flood , His wood - embosomed mansion stood ; In the dark glen , so deep below , The herds of plundered England low ; His bold retainers ...
... lands round Oakwood tower , And wide round haunted Castle - Ower ; High over Borthwick's mountain - flood , His wood - embosomed mansion stood ; In the dark glen , so deep below , The herds of plundered England low ; His bold retainers ...
Page 83
... land , And by the sword they hold it still . Hearken , Ladye , to the tale , How thy sires won fair Eskdale . Earl Morton was lord of that valley fair , The Beattisons were his vassals there . The Earl was gentle , and mild of mood ...
... land , And by the sword they hold it still . Hearken , Ladye , to the tale , How thy sires won fair Eskdale . Earl Morton was lord of that valley fair , The Beattisons were his vassals there . The Earl was gentle , and mild of mood ...
Page 85
... lands alone , For he lent me his horse to escape upon . " - A glad man then was Branksome bold , Down he flung him the purse of gold . To Eskdale soon he spurred amain , And with him five hundred riders has ta'en . He left his merrymen ...
... lands alone , For he lent me his horse to escape upon . " - A glad man then was Branksome bold , Down he flung him the purse of gold . To Eskdale soon he spurred amain , And with him five hundred riders has ta'en . He left his merrymen ...
Page 98
... lands of Richard Musgrave , And slew his brother by dint of glave . Then , since a lone and widowed Dame These restless riders may not tame , Either receive within thy towers Two hundred of my master's powers , Or straight they sound ...
... lands of Richard Musgrave , And slew his brother by dint of glave . Then , since a lone and widowed Dame These restless riders may not tame , Either receive within thy towers Two hundred of my master's powers , Or straight they sound ...
Common terms and phrases
ancient Angus arms band bard Baron Beattisons beneath betwixt blaze blood blood-hound Border bower Branksome Hall Branksome's brave Buccleuch called CANTO castle Cessford chapel chiefs Clair clan courser crest Cumberland dæmons Dame dead death Douglas dread Earl Earl of Angus English Eskdale Ettrick Forest Ettricke fair on Carlisle fell fight Fleet Street hand harp Hawick head heard heart highnes horse Howard king Kirkwall knight knight of Liddesdale Ladye Ladye's laird lances lands Liddesdale Lord Cranstoun Lord Dacre loud Margaret Melrose Michael MINSTREL moss-trooper Musgrave Naworth Castle ne'er noble o'er ride rode Roslin round rung sayd Scotland Scots Scott Scottish shew shulde Sir William slain song spear Stanza Stanza VI.-page steed stone stood sword ta'en Teviot's Teviotdale thee theyme theyre Thomas Musgrave thou Tinlinn tower tyme Virgilius Walter warriors wave ween wild William of Deloraine wound XIII.-page
Popular passages
Page 170 - 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 ! HUSH'D is the harp — the Minstrel...
Page 141 - 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.
Page xi - Was carried by an orphan boy : 'I'hc 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.
Page xxii - Ten of them were sheathed in steel, With belted sword, and spur on heel : They quitted not their harness bright, Neither by day, nor yet by night ; They lay down to rest, With corslet laced...
Page 141 - 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...
Page 164 - 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 ! And each St Clair was buried there, With candle, with book, and with knell ; But the sea-caves rung, and the wild winds sung, The dirge of lovely Rosabelle.
Page xiv - Though stiff his hands, his voice though weak, He thought even yet, the sooth to speak. That if she loved the harp to hear, He could make music to her ear.
Page 204 - O the monks of Melrose made gude kale * On Fridays when they fasted ; They wanted neither beef nor ale, As long as their neighbour's lasted.
Page 160 - O'er Roslin all that dreary night, A wondrous blaze was seen to gleam ; 'Twas broader than the watch-fire's light, And redder than the bright moon-beam. It glared on Roslin's castled rock, It ruddied all the copse-wood glen ; 'Twas seen from Dryden's groves of oak, And seen from cavern'd Hawthornden.
Page 160 - Tis not because the ring they ride, And Lindesay at the ring rides well, But that my sire the wine will chide, If 'tis not fill'd by Rosabelle.