The Lady of the Lake;: A PoemJohn Ballantyne and Company Edinburgh; and Longman, Hurst, Rees, and Orme, and William Miller, London, 1810 - 290 pages |
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Page 22
... Grace , Of finer form , or lovelier face ! What though the sun , with ardent frown , Had slightly tinged her cheek with brown , --- The sportive toil , which , short and light , Had dyed her glowing hue so bright , Served too in hastier ...
... Grace , Of finer form , or lovelier face ! What though the sun , with ardent frown , Had slightly tinged her cheek with brown , --- The sportive toil , which , short and light , Had dyed her glowing hue so bright , Served too in hastier ...
Page 23
... grace To measured mood had trained her pace , -- A foot more light , a step more true , Ne'er from the heath - flower dashed the dew ; E'en the slight hare - bell raised its head , Elastic from her airy tread : What though upon her ...
... grace To measured mood had trained her pace , -- A foot more light , a step more true , Ne'er from the heath - flower dashed the dew ; E'en the slight hare - bell raised its head , Elastic from her airy tread : What though upon her ...
Page 29
... grace a guest of fair degree ; But light I held his prophecy , And deemed it was my father's horn , Whose echoes o'er the lake were born . " XXIV . The stranger smiled : --- " Since to your home , A destined errant knight I come ...
... grace a guest of fair degree ; But light I held his prophecy , And deemed it was my father's horn , Whose echoes o'er the lake were born . " XXIV . The stranger smiled : --- " Since to your home , A destined errant knight I come ...
Page 33
... grace , Hung trophies of the fight or chase : A target there , a bugle here , A battle - axe , a hunting spear , And broad - swords , bows , and arrows store , With the tusked trophies of the boar . Here grins the wolf as when he died ...
... grace , Hung trophies of the fight or chase : A target there , a bugle here , A battle - axe , a hunting spear , And broad - swords , bows , and arrows store , With the tusked trophies of the boar . Here grins the wolf as when he died ...
Page 35
... grace the part Of Ferragus , or Ascabart ; But in the absent giant's hold Are women now , and menials old . " XXIX . The mistress of the mansion came , Mature of age , a graceful dame ; Whose easy step and stately port Had well become a ...
... grace the part Of Ferragus , or Ascabart ; But in the absent giant's hold Are women now , and menials old . " XXIX . The mistress of the mansion came , Mature of age , a graceful dame ; Whose easy step and stately port Had well become a ...
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Common terms and phrases
agen Alpine's arms ballad band battle Bevis of Hampton blade blood bold brand Brantome brave breast broad-sword brow called CANTO castle chase chief Chieftain clan Clan-Alpine's crest Cross Dæmon dark deep deer Douglas dread drew Duergar e'er Earl of Angus Ellen fair fairy fear Fiery Cross Fitz-James Gael gallant glance glen grace grey hand harp head hear heard heart heath heaven highland hill honoured hounds isle James John Gunn King knight LADY lake land Lord loud lowland Macgregor maid maiden Malise merry minstrel morning mountain ne'er noble Note o'er pass pibroch plaid pride race rock Roderick Dhu round Rowland Yorke Saint Modan Saxon Scotland Scottish shallop side sire snood song sound spear speed stag steed Stirling Stirling Castle stood stranger sword tear thee thine thou tide Twas wake warrior wave western isles wild word yonder
Popular passages
Page 122 - Sage counsel in cumber, Red hand in the foray, How sound is thy slumber ! Like the dew on the mountain, Like the foam on the river, Like the bubble on the fountain, Thou art gone, and for ever ! * Or corn.
Page 42 - Soldier, rest ! thy warfare o'er, Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking ; Dream of battled fields no more, Days of danger, nights of waking. In our isle's enchanted hall, Hands unseen thy couch are strewing, Fairy strains of music fall, ». Every sense in slumber dewing. Soldier, rest ! thy warfare o'er, Dream of fighting fields no more ; Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, Morn of toil, nor night of waking.
Page 101 - Time rolls his ceaseless course. The race of yore, Who danced our infancy upon their knee, And told our marvelling boyhood legends store, Of their strange ventures happ'd by land or sea, How are they blotted from the things that be...
Page 16 - To cheer them on the vanished game ; But, stumbling in the rugged dell, The gallant horse exhausted fell. The impatient rider strove in vain To rouse him with the spur and rein, For the good steed, his labors o'er, Stretched his stiff limbs, to rise no more ; Then, touched with pity and remorse, He sorrowed o'er the expiring horse.
Page 207 - That whistle garrisoned the glen At once with full five hundred men, As if the yawning hill to heaven A subterranean host had given. Watching their leader's beck and will. All silent there they stood, and still. Like the loose crags whose threatening mass Lay tottering o'er the hollow pass, As if an infant's touch could urge Their headlong passage down the verge, With step and weapon forward flung, Upon the mountain-sidb they hung.
Page 287 - His chain of gold the King unstrung, The links o'er Malcolm's neck he flung, Then gently drew the glittering band, And laid the clasp on Ellen's hand. JXARP of the North, farewell ! The hills grow dark, On purple peaks a deeper shade descending; In twilight copse the glow-worm lights her spark, The deer, half-seen, are to the covert wending.
Page 265 - For life ! for life 1 their flight they ply ; And shriek, and shout, and battle-cry, And plaids and bonnets waving high, And broadswords flashing to the sky, Are maddening in the rear. Onward they drive, in dreadful race, Pursuers and pursued ; Before that tide of flight and chase, How shall it keep its rooted place, The spearmen's twilight wood ?
Page 77 - Some feelings are to mortals given, With less of earth in them than heaven ; And if there be a human tear From passion's dross refined and clear, A tear so limpid and so meek, It would not stain an angel's cheek, 'Tis that which pious fathers shed Upon a duteous daughter's head...
Page 9 - The stag at eve had drunk his fill, Where danced the moon on Monan's rill, And deep his midnight lair had made In lone Glenartney's hazel shade...
Page 212 - Bold Saxon ! to his promise just, Vich- Alpine has discharged his trust. This murderous Chief, this ruthless man, This head of a rebellious clan, Hath led thee safe, through watch and ward, Far past Clan- Alpine's outmost guard.