The Prose Works of Sir Walter Scott, Bart: Periodical criticismR.Cadell, 1835 - France |
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Page 24 - they exist, while curiosity is excited in others who would never otherwise have thought on the subject. This general interest may perhaps end in a complete edition of all that old bards “In sage and solemn times have sung, Of turneys and of trophies hung; Of forests, and enchantments drear, Where more is meant than meets the ear.
Page 276 - Like ocean-weeds heap'd on the surf-beaten shore, Lochiel, untainted by flight or by chains, While the kindling of life in his bosom remains, Shall victor exult, or in death be laid low, With his back to the field, and his feet to the foe! And, leaving in battle no blot on
Page 339 - where his rude hut by the Danube lay There were his young barbarians all at play, There was their Dacian mother,—he, their sire, Butcher'd to make a Roman holiday,— All this rush'd with his blood,—shall he expire And unavenged ?—Arise! ye
Page 323 - beenA sound which makes us linger ;—yet---farewell! Ye! who have traced the Pilgrim to the scene Which is his last, if in your memories dwell A thought which once was his, if on ye swell A single recollection, not in vain He wore his sandal-shoon, and scallop-shell; Farewell! with him alone may rest the
Page 339 - manly brow Consents to death, but conquers agony, And his drooped head sinks gradually low,— And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one, Like the first of a thunder-shower; and now The arena swims around him—he is gone, Ere ceased the inhuman shout which haild the wretch who won. “He heard it, but he heeded
Page 250 - Untie these bands from off my hands, And bring to me my sword; And there's no a man in all Scotland, But I'll brave him at a word. Sue rantingly, ¿c. I've liv',la life of sturt and strife; I die by treacherie: It burns my heart I must depart And not avenged be. Sac rantingly,
Page 338 - thus the Egerian grottos, with a classical allusion to the complaint of Juvenal, that art in adorning them had destroyed their simplicity, are described in the state of decay by which that simplicity has been restored. “The mosses of thy fountain still are sprinkled With thine Elysian water-drops; the face Of thy cave-guarded spring, with years unwrinkled,
Page 341 - the imperial isles so full it seemed to cloy. Peasants bring forth in safety.—Can it be, Oh thou that wert so happy, so adored! Those who weep not for kings shall weep for thee, And Freedom's heart, grown heavy, cease to hoard Her many griefs for
Page 235 - fig for those by law protected! Liberty's a glorious feast' Courts for cowards were erected, Churches built to please the priest. What is title? what is treasure? What is reputation't care? If we lead a life of pleasure,
Page 324 - use which at times has reminded us of his own powerful simile, “ It was as is a new.dug grave, Closing o'er one we sought to save.” ¿Before we part, however, we feel ourselves impelled to resume a consideration of his Pilgrimage, not as consisting of detached accounts of foreign scenery and of the emotions suggested by them, but as a whole