There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby clan; 355 Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran: There was racing and chasing, on Cannobie Lee, But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see. I swear 820 I will not see it lost! To me they make a heavy moan, Of early friendships past and gone. Her head the grave Cistertian shook: 900 'The Douglas, and the King,' she said, 'In their commands will be obey'd; Grieve not, nor dream that harm can fall The maiden in Tantallon hall. The Host's Tale 'A Clerk could tell what years have flown Since Alexander fill'd our throne, 325 Third monarch of that warlike name, And eke the time when here he came To seek Sir Hugo, then our lord: A braver never drew a sword; A wiser never, at the hour 330 Of midnight, spoke the word of power: The same, whom ancient records call The founder of the Goblin-Hall. Unlike most little Scotch boys, he was not sturdy and robust, and in his second year, a lameness appeared that never entirely left him. Well can the green-garb'd ranger tell, 60 How, when, and where, the monster fell; What dogs before his death he tore, And all the baiting of the boar.
And judge how Clara changed her hue, 355 While fastening to her lover's side A friend, which, though in danger tried, He once had found untrue! Or lie my warm affections low, With him, that taught them first to glow? De Wilton's plans for revenge are overturned by the. He knows the passes of the North, And seeks far shrines beyond the Forth; Little he eats, and long will wake, And drinks but of the stream or lake. By rock, by oak, by hawthorn-tree, Troop after troop are disappearing; Troop after troop their banners rearing, 580 Upon the eastern bank you see. An enterprise that early engaged his attention was a complete edition of the British poets, but the deliberations on the subject came to nothing except in so far as they helped towards the preparation of Campbell's 'Specimens of the British Poets,' which appeared in 1819. The turret held a narrow stair, Which, mounted, gave you access where A parapet's embattled row Did seaward round the castle go. Thankfully, Scott's Marmion is written in short rhyming sentences which made it easier to understand than other poetry I've read. Then the sicke knight dressed him upright, and kissed the crosse.
His reminiscences culminated in an account of an arch over the gate-way, which he had constructed by fastening together the tops of two convenient willows and placing above them 'a cross made of two sticks. It is not necessary to dwell on their special descriptive features, which readily assert themselves and give Scott a high and honoured place among Nature-poets. Then was brought in the lusty brawn, By old blue-coated serving-man; Then the grim boar's head frown'd on high, Crested with bays and rosemary. The witching dame to Marmion threw A glance, where seem'd to reign The pride that claims applauses due, And of her royal conquest too, 370 A real or feign'd disdain: Familiar was the look, and told, Marmion and she were friends of old. It belongs to the school system consisting of 115 high schools in Chicago, Illinois.
The Captain mused a little space, And pass'd his hand across his face. My affair was so far completed, that my commission lay in the office subscribed by his Majesty; but, from hurry or mistake, the interest of my predecessor was not expressed in it, as had been usual in such cases. Here may you keep your arms from rust, May breathe your war-horse well; Seldom hath pass'd a week but giust Or feat of arms befell: 220 The Scots can rein a mettled steed; And love to couch a spear:-- Saint George! Oft Austin for my reason fear'd, When I would sit, and deeply brood On dark revenge, and deeds of blood, Or wild mad schemes uprear'd. Dust soil to page edges. Good condition is defined as: a copy that has been read but remains in clean condition. De Wilton, having returned disguised as a pilgrim, follows Marmion to where he meets the Abbess, who gives him the exonerating documents. Her cap down o'er her face she drew; And, on her doublet breast, She tried to hide the badge of blue, Lord Marmion's falcon crest.
For all the tears e'er sorrow drew, 210 And all the raptures fancy knew, And all the keener rush of blood, That throbs through bard in bard-like mood, Were here a tribute mean and low, Though all their mingled streams could flow-- 215 Woe, wonder, and sensation high, In one spring-tide of ecstasy! Well dost thou brook thy gallant roan, Thou flower of English land! To thee, dear school-boy, whom my lay Has cheated of thy hour of play, Light task, and merry holiday! Long, with dejected look and whine, 70 To leave the hearth his dogs repine; Whistling and cheering them to aid, Around his back he wreathes the plaid: His flock he gathers, and he guides, To open downs, and mountain-sides, 75 Where fiercest though the tempest blow, Least deeply lies the drift below. Monk-Wearmouth soon behind them lay, And Tynemouth's priory and bay; They mark'd, amid her trees, the hall Of lofty Seaton-Delaval; 135 They saw the Blythe and Wansbeck floods Rush to the sea through sounding woods; They pass'd the tower of Widderington, Mother of many a valiant son; At Coquet-isle their beads they tell 140 To the good Saint who own'd the cell; Then did the Alne attention claim, And Warkworth, proud of Percy's name; And next, they cross'd themselves, to hear The whitening breakers sound so near, 145 There, boiling through the rocks, they roar, On Dunstanborough's cavern'd shore; Thy tower, proud Bamborough, mark'd they there, King Ida's castle, huge and square, From its tall rock look grimly down, 150 And on the swelling ocean frown; Then from the coast they bore away, And reach'd the Holy Island's bay. When, doff'd his casque, he felt free air, Around 'gan Marmion wildly stare:-- 'Where's Harry Blount? Lord Marmion drank a fair good rest, The Captain pledged his noble guest, 520 The cup went through among the rest, Who drain'd it merrily; Alone the Palmer pass'd it by, Though Selby press'd him courteously. Long may his Lady look in vain! From United Kingdom to U. The disposition of Marmion's remains was interesting, though. The Isles-men carried at their backs The ancient Danish battle-axe.
When forty days are pass'd and gone, I cite you at your Monarch's throne, 750 To answer and appear. Nor deem that from thy fenceless throne Strength and security are flown; Still as of yore, Queen of the North! When sated with the martial show That peopled all the plain below, The wandering eye could o'er it go, And mark the distant city glow 605 With gloomy splendour red; For on the smoke-wreaths, huge and slow, That round her sable turrets flow, The morning beams were shed, And tinged them with a lustre proud, 610 Like that which streaks a thunder-cloud. His conscience slept--he deem'd her well, 260 And safe secured in yonder cell; But, waken'd by her favourite lay, And that strange Palmer's boding say, That fell so ominous and drear, Full on the object of his fear, 265 To aid remorse's venom'd throes, Dark tales of convent-vengeance rose; And Constance, late betray'd and scorn'd, All lovely on his soul return'd; Lovely as when, at treacherous call, 270 She left her convent's peaceful wall, Crimson'd with shame, with terror mute, Dreading alike escape, pursuit, Till love, victorious o'er alarms, Hid fears and blushes in his arms. Text is clean and bright. Yet pleased, our eye pursues the trace 15 Of Light and Shade's inconstant race; Pleased, views the rivulet afar, Weaving its maze irregular; And pleased, we listen as the breeze Heaves its wild sigh through Autumn trees; 20 Then, wild as cloud, or stream, or gale, Flow on, flow unconfined, my Tale! The situation is uncommonly beautiful, by the side of a fine river, whose streams are there very favourable for angling, surrounded by the remains of natural woods, and by hills abounding in game.
Not she, the Championess of old, In Spenser's magic tale enroll'd, She for the charmed spear renown'd, Which forced each knight to kiss the ground,-- Not she more changed, when, placed at rest, 66 What time she was Malbecco's guest, She gave to flow her maiden vest; When from the corselet's grasp relieved, Free to the sight her bosom heaved; 70 Sweet was her blue eye's modest smile, Erst hidden by the aventayle; And down her shoulders graceful roll'd Her locks profuse, of paly gold. His novels about Scottish history deal with clashes between the new English culture and the old Scottish. With fruitless labour, Clara bound, And strove to stanch the gushing wound: 965 The Monk, with unavailing cares, Exhausted all the Church's prayers. But say, my Erskine, hast thou weigh'd 115 That secret power by all obey'd, Which warps not less the passive mind, Its source conceal'd or undefined; Whether an impulse, that has birth Soon as the infant wakes on earth, 120 One with our feelings and our powers, And rather part of us than ours; Or whether fitlier term'd the sway Of habit, form'd in early day? Did'st e'er, dear Heber, pass along Beneath the towers of Franchemont, Which, like an eagle's nest in air, 170 Hang o'er the stream and hamlet fair? He is a man of mirthful speech, 370 Can many a game and gambol teach; Full well at tables can he play, And sweep at bowls the stake away. About this Item: Pranava Books, 2018.
But northward far, with purer blaze, On Ochil mountains fell the rays, And as each heathy top they kiss'd, 620 It gleam'd a purple amethyst. Edited by Mark Tierney, R. They might not choose the lowland road, 5 For the Merse forayers were abroad, Who, fired with hate and thirst of prey, Had scarcely fail'd to bar their way. I chose this title, because it was mentioned as loved by Jane Austen. And thus, my Christmas still I hold Where my great-grandsire came of old, 95 With amber beard, and flaxen hair, And reverend apostolic air-- The feast and holy-tide to share, And mix sobriety with wine, And honest mirth with thoughts divine: 100 Small thought was his, in after time E'er to be hitch'd into a rhyme. The hunted red-deer's undress'd hide Their hairy buskins well supplied; The graceful bonnet deck'd their head: 120 Back from their shoulders hung the plaid; A broadsword of unwieldy length, A dagger proved for edge and strength, A studded targe they wore, And quivers, bows, and shafts,--but, O! Norham at twilight, with the solitary warder on the battlements, and Crichtoun castle, as Scott himself saw it, instantly commend themselves by their realistic vigour and their consistent verisimilitude. Remember'st thou my greyhounds true?.
Writing to his friend William Clerk Lockhart's Life, ii. He had likewise, as he mentions in the General Preface to the Novels, begun Waverley 'about 1805,' and other literary engagements received their share of attention. The southernmost our Monarch past, 450 Halted, and blew a gallant blast; And on the north, within the ring, Appeared the form of England's King, Who then a thousand leagues afar, In Palestine waged holy war: 455 Yet arms like England's did he wield, Alike the leopards in the shield, Alike his Syrian courser's frame, The rider's length of limb the same: Long afterwards did Scotland know, 460 Fell Edward was her deadliest foe. This edition is furnished with a very useful introduction and notes. Resting upon his pilgrim staff, 80 Right opposite the Palmer stood; His thin dark visage seen but half, Half hidden by his hood. When, in 1804, Scott was appointed Sheriff of Selkirkshire, a condition attaching to his post was that he should reside during part of the year within the bounds of his sheriffdom. The Talisman 1825 is about conflict between Christians and Muslims.
They pass'd the glen and scanty rill, And climb'd the opposing bank, until They gain'd the top of Blackford Hill. She stoop'd her by the runnel's side, But in abhorrence backward drew; 915 For, oozing from the mountain's side, Where raged the war, a dark-red tide Was curdling in the streamlet blue. His courser would he feed and stroke, And, tucking up his sable frocke, Would first his mettle bold provoke, Then soothe or quell his pride. If he go down, thou soon shalt know 430 Whate'er these airy sprites can show:-- If thy heart fail thee in the strife, I am no warrant for thy life. Soon in the castle nought was heard, But the slow footstep of the guard, Pacing his sober round. Still, with vain fondness, could I trace, Anew, each kind familiar face, That brighten'd at our evening fire! This den, which, chilling every sense 320 Of feeling, hearing, sight, Was call'd the Vault of Penitence, Excluding air and light, Was, by the prelate Sexhelm, made A place of burial for such dead, 325 As, having died in mortal sin, Might not be laid the church within.