The lay of the last minstrel, a poem |
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Page 7
... Scotland . The inhabitants , living in a state partly pastoral and partly warlike , and combining habits of constant depredation with the influence of a rude spirit of chivalry , were often engaged in scenes , highly susceptible of ...
... Scotland . The inhabitants , living in a state partly pastoral and partly warlike , and combining habits of constant depredation with the influence of a rude spirit of chivalry , were often engaged in scenes , highly susceptible of ...
Page 31
... Scotland's queen . XXII . " Sir William of Deloraine , good at need , Mount thee on the wightest steed ; Spare not to spur , nor stint to ride , Until thou come to fair Tweedside ; And in Melrose's holy pile Seek thou the Monk of St ...
... Scotland's queen . XXII . " Sir William of Deloraine , good at need , Mount thee on the wightest steed ; Spare not to spur , nor stint to ride , Until thou come to fair Tweedside ; And in Melrose's holy pile Seek thou the Monk of St ...
Page 107
... The proud distinction grateful gave , For faith mid feudal jars ; What time , save Thirlestane alone , Of Scotland's stubborn barons none Would march to southern wars ; And hence , in fair remembrance worn , Yon sheaf 107.
... The proud distinction grateful gave , For faith mid feudal jars ; What time , save Thirlestane alone , Of Scotland's stubborn barons none Would march to southern wars ; And hence , in fair remembrance worn , Yon sheaf 107.
Page 118
... Scotland ? My Ladye reads you swith return ; And , if but one poor straw you burn , Or do our towers so much molest , As scare one swallow from her nest , St Mary ! but we'll light a brand , Shall warm your hearths in Cumberland . " XX ...
... Scotland ? My Ladye reads you swith return ; And , if but one poor straw you burn , Or do our towers so much molest , As scare one swallow from her nest , St Mary ! but we'll light a brand , Shall warm your hearths in Cumberland . " XX ...
Page 180
... Scotland and in England both . In homely guise , as nature bade , His simple song the Borderer said . XI . ᎪᏞᏴᎬᎡᎢ ᏀᎡᎬᎷᎬ . It was an English ladye bright , The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall , And she would marry a Scottish ...
... Scotland and in England both . In homely guise , as nature bade , His simple song the Borderer said . XI . ᎪᏞᏴᎬᎡᎢ ᏀᎡᎬᎷᎬ . It was an English ladye bright , The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall , And she would marry a Scottish ...
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Common terms and phrases
ancient arms band bard Baron beneath betwixt Bewcastle blaze blood blood-hound Border Branksome Branksome Hall Branksome's brave Buccleuch bugle called CANTO castle chapel chief clan courser crest cross Cumberland dæmons Dame dead Douglas dread Duke Earl Earl of Angus Eildon hills English Ettricke Ettricke Forest fair on Carlisle Gilpin Horner hall hand harp Hawick head heard highnes horse Howard James Jedburgh king Kirkwall knight Ladye laird lance lands LAST MINSTREL Liddesdale Lord Dacre Margaret Melrose Michael MINSTREL moss-trooper Musgrave Naworth Castle ne'er noble o'er ride rode Roslin round rung sayd Scot Scotland Scottish Scottish Border shew shulde Sir William slain song spear St Clair St Mary's steed stone stood sun shines fair sword Teviot's Teviotdale thee theyme theyre Thomas Musgrave thou Tinlinn tower Twas tyme VIII Virgilius Walter Scott warden warrior ween wild William of Deloraine wound
Popular passages
Page 167 - 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 ? 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,...
Page 48 - In these far climes it was my lot To meet the wondrous Michael Scott ; A wizard, of such dreaded fame, That when, in Salamanca's cave, Him listed his magic wand to wave, The bells would ring in Notre Dame...
Page 13 - Where she with all her ladies sate, Perchance he wished his boon denied: For, when to tune his harp he tried, His trembling hand had lost the ease Which marks security to please...
Page 9 - Seemed to have known a better day ; The harp, his sole remaining joy, Was carried by an orphan boy. The 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 14 - And lighten'd up his faded eye, With all a poet's ecstasy ! In varying cadence, soft or strong, He swept the sounding chords along : The present scene, the future lot, His toils, his wants, were all forgot: Cold diffidence, and age's frost, In the full tide of song were lost ; Each blank in faithless memory void, The poet's glowing thought supplied ; And, while his harp responsive rung, 'Twas thus the LATEST MINSTREL sung.
Page 198 - 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?
Page 133 - CALL it not vain : — they do not err, Who say, that when the Poet dies, Mute Nature mourns her worshipper, And celebrates his obsequies : Who say, tall cliff, and cavern lone, For the departed Bard make moan ; That mountains weep in crystal rill ; That flowers in tears of bahn distil; Through his loved groves that breezes sigh, And oaks, in deeper groan, reply ; And rivers teach their rushing wave To murmur dirges round his grave.
Page 100 - Where'er thou wind'st, by dale or hill, All, all is peaceful, all is still, As if thy waves, since Time was born, Since first they roll'd upon the Tweed, Had only heard the shepherd's reed, Nor started at the bugle-horn.
Page 11 - Duchess* marked his weary pace, His timid mien, and reverend face, And bade her page the menials tell, That they should tend the old man well...
Page 145 - True love's the gift which God has given To man alone beneath the heaven : It is not fantasy's hot fire, Whose wishes, soon as granted, fly; It liveth not in fierce desire, With dead desire it doth not die ; It is the secret sympathy, The silver link, the silken tie, Which heart to heart, and mind to mind, In body and in soul can bind.