The bridal of Triermain. Harold the Dauntless. The field of Waterloo. Songs and miscellanies

Couverture
D. Estes, 1900
 

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Page 30 - But when those charms are past, for charms are frail, When time advances, and when lovers fail, She then shines forth, solicitous to bless, In all the glaring impotence of dress...
Page 227 - Is the spot mark'd with no colossal bust? Nor column trophied for triumphal show? None; but the moral's truth tells simpler so: As the ground was before, thus let it be; How that red rain hath made the harvest grow! And is this all the world has gain'd by thee, Thou first and last of fields! king-making Victory?
Page 181 - tis like a camel, indeed. Ham. Methinks it is like a weasel. Pol. It is backed like a weasel. Ham. Or like a whale? Pol. Very like a whale.
Page 72 - I had gazed perhaps two minutes' space, Joanna, looking in my eyes, beheld That ravishment of mine, and laughed aloud. The Rock, like something starting from a sleep, Took up the lady's voice, and laughed again ; That ancient woman seated on Helm-crag Was ready with her cavern ; Hammar-scar, And the tall steep of Silver-how, sent forth A noise of laughter ; southern Loughrigg heard, And Fairfield answered with a mountain tone ; Helvellyn far into the clear blue sky Carried the lady's voice ; old...
Page 295 - 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 ruined pride.
Page 277 - 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 281 - 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 167 - Looking tranquillity ! It strikes an awe And terror on my aching sight ; the tombs And monumental caves of death look cold, And shoot a chillness to my trembling heart.
Page 279 - 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. O ho ro, i ri ri, &c.
Page 18 - Paled in by many a lofty hill, The narrow dale lay smooth and still, And? down its verdant bosom led, A winding brooklet found its bed.

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