The poetical works of Walter Scott, Volume 10 |
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Page 15
... hath obey'd ; For , see ! the ruddy signal made , That Clifford , with his merry - men all , Guards carelessly our father's hall . ” X. " O wild of thought , and hard of heart ! " Answer'd the Monarch , " on a part Of such deep danger ...
... hath obey'd ; For , see ! the ruddy signal made , That Clifford , with his merry - men all , Guards carelessly our father's hall . ” X. " O wild of thought , and hard of heart ! " Answer'd the Monarch , " on a part Of such deep danger ...
Page 28
... Hath not the wild bull's treble hide This targe for thee and me supplied ? Is not Clan - Colla's sword of steel ? And , trembler , canst thou terror feel ? Cheer thee , and still that throbbing heart ; From Ronald's guard thou shalt not ...
... Hath not the wild bull's treble hide This targe for thee and me supplied ? Is not Clan - Colla's sword of steel ? And , trembler , canst thou terror feel ? Cheer thee , and still that throbbing heart ; From Ronald's guard thou shalt not ...
Page 32
... hath sunk- Enter , and rest thee there a space , Wrap in my plaid thy limbs , thy face . I will not be , believe me , far ; But must not quit the ranks of war . Well will I mark the bosky bourne , And soon , to guard thee hence , return ...
... hath sunk- Enter , and rest thee there a space , Wrap in my plaid thy limbs , thy face . I will not be , believe me , far ; But must not quit the ranks of war . Well will I mark the bosky bourne , And soon , to guard thee hence , return ...
Page 37
... hath steel'd , His nerves hath strung - he will not yield ! Since that poor breath , that little word , May yield Lord Ronald to the sword .-- Clan - Colla's dirge is pealing wide , The griesly Canto V. 37 THE LORD OF THE ISLES .
... hath steel'd , His nerves hath strung - he will not yield ! Since that poor breath , that little word , May yield Lord Ronald to the sword .-- Clan - Colla's dirge is pealing wide , The griesly Canto V. 37 THE LORD OF THE ISLES .
Page 45
... rugged vaults replied ; And from the donjon tower on high , The men of Carrick may descry Saint Andrew's cross , in blazonry Of silver , waving wide ! XXXIII . The Bruce hath won his father's hall ! Canto V. 45 THE LORD OF THE ISLES .
... rugged vaults replied ; And from the donjon tower on high , The men of Carrick may descry Saint Andrew's cross , in blazonry Of silver , waving wide ! XXXIII . The Bruce hath won his father's hall ! Canto V. 45 THE LORD OF THE ISLES .
Common terms and phrases
Amadine Argentine arms Arran band banner Bannock Barbour battle battle of Bannockburn battle of Methven beneath bloody bore Boune brave Brodick called Carrick cavalry charter-stone Clan-Colla's Clifford command cried cross'd dark Donald Caird's Douglas Duci Hibernicorum Earl Edward Bruce England English archers Episcopi fair fame Farewell fear fell fierce fight Fitz-Louis gallant glance glen Gregalach ground haloo hand hath Hazeldean heart hill horse host House of Douglas Isabel Isle of Arran Isles John John Bull King Robert knight lance land left flank Liege light Lord Ronald Monarch mountain mute noble Note numbers o'er once pass'd Pibroch Piobaireachd Dhonuil prince Randolph ranks Regis rode Scot Scotland Scottish Scottish army seem'd Serendib shore Sigillum Abbatis Sigillum Prioris slain Solimaun spear steed Stirling stone Sultaun sword tell thee thine Thomas Randolph thou tide tower Turnberry twas warriors wave wild
Popular passages
Page 179 - The bride at the altar ; Leave the deer, leave the steer, Leave nets and barges: Come with your fighting gear, Broadswords and targes. Come as the winds come, when Forests are rended, Come as the waves come, when Navies are stranded: Faster come, faster come. Faster and faster, Chief, vassal, page and groom, Tenant and master.
Page 177 - Come away, come away, Hark to the summons! Come in your war- array, Gentles and commons. Come from deep glen, and From mountain so rocky; The war-pipe and pennon Are at Inverlochy. Come every hill-plaid, and True heart that wears one, Come every steel blade, and Strong hand that bears one.
Page 171 - Now let this wilfu' grief be done, And dry that cheek so pale; Young Frank is chief of Errington And lord of Langley-dale; His step is first in peaceful ha', His sword in battle keen" — But aye she loot the tears down fa
Page 171 - 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
Page 182 - the lake's clear breast May barter for the eagle's nest; The Awe's fierce stream may backward turn, Ben-Cruaichan fall, and crush Kilchurn; Our kilted clans, when blood is high, Before their foes may turn and fly; But I, were all these marvels done, Would never wed the Earlie's son.
Page 175 - O, fear not the bugle, though loudly it blows, It calls but the warders that guard thy repose ; Their bows would be bended, their blades would be red, Ere the step of a foeman draws near to thy bed.
Page 28 - O ! many a shaft, at random sent, Finds mark the archer little meant ! And many a word, at random spoken, , May soothe or wound a heart that's broken!
Page 201 - And coldly mark the holy fane Of Melrose rise in ruin'd pride. The quiet lake, the balmy air, The hill, the stream, the tower, the tree, — Are they still such as once they were, Or is the dreary change in me ? Alas, the warp'd and broken board, How can it bear the painter's dye ! The harp of strain'd and tuneless chord, How to the minstrel's skill reply ! To aching eyes each landscape lowers, To feverish pulse each gale blows chill ; And Araby's or Eden's bowers Were barren as this moorland hill.
Page 175 - O, hush thee, my babie, the time soon will come, When thy sleep shall be broken by trumpet and drum ; Then hush thee, my darling, take rest while you may, For strife comes with manhood, and waking with day.
Page 200 - THE sun upon the Weirdlaw hill, In Ettrick's vale, is sinking sweet ; The westland wind is hush and still, The lake lies sleeping at my feet. Yet not the landscape to mine eye Bears those bright hues that once it bore ; Though evening, with her richest dye, Flames o'er the hills of Ettrick's shore. With listless look along the plain, I see Tweed's silver current glide, And coldly mark the holy fane Of Melrose rise in ruin'd pride.