The Miscellaneous Prose Works of Sir Walter Scott: Biographical memoirs of eminent novelistsBaudry's European Library, 1838 |
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Page 58
... thee , Loke : Which neither on earth below is known , Nor in Heaven above ; my hammer's gone . ' Their way to Freyia's bower they took , And this the first word that he spoke ; Thou , Freyia , must lend a winged robe , To seek my hammer ...
... thee , Loke : Which neither on earth below is known , Nor in Heaven above ; my hammer's gone . ' Their way to Freyia's bower they took , And this the first word that he spoke ; Thou , Freyia , must lend a winged robe , To seek my hammer ...
Page 59
... thee , Thor ; this must be done : The giants will strait in Asgard reign : If thou thine hammer dost not regain . ' Then busk'd they Thor as a bride so fair , And the great bright necklace gave him to wear ; Round him let ring the ...
... thee , Thor ; this must be done : The giants will strait in Asgard reign : If thou thine hammer dost not regain . ' Then busk'd they Thor as a bride so fair , And the great bright necklace gave him to wear ; Round him let ring the ...
Page 60
... thee I crave , If thou wilt all my fondness have , All my love and fondness have . ' Then Thrym the king of the Thursi said ; Bear in the hammer to plight the maid ; Upon her lap the bruizer lay , And firmly plight our hands and fay ...
... thee I crave , If thou wilt all my fondness have , All my love and fondness have . ' Then Thrym the king of the Thursi said ; Bear in the hammer to plight the maid ; Upon her lap the bruizer lay , And firmly plight our hands and fay ...
Page 64
... thee . ' O let me here thy garden tend , Hard by this pleasant bower ; Here deck the lawn with careful hand , And rear each scented flower : The soft primrose , the violet blue , The glowing celandine ; And cuckoo - buds , and sorrel ...
... thee . ' O let me here thy garden tend , Hard by this pleasant bower ; Here deck the lawn with careful hand , And rear each scented flower : The soft primrose , the violet blue , The glowing celandine ; And cuckoo - buds , and sorrel ...
Page 68
... thee . flow'r , for that the flow'r Of manhood lieth here ; And water'd thee with plenteous show'r Of many a briny tear . ' And still she cried , ' Oh stay , my love . My true - love , stay for me ; Stay till I've deck'd my bridal bed ...
... thee . flow'r , for that the flow'r Of manhood lieth here ; And water'd thee with plenteous show'r Of many a briny tear . ' And still she cried , ' Oh stay , my love . My true - love , stay for me ; Stay till I've deck'd my bridal bed ...
Common terms and phrases
affected Amadis Amadis de Gaul ancient appears ballads bard beautiful betwixt bridal bed Bunyan Caleb Williams called castle censure character Chatterton Chaucer chivalry circumstances comedy composition criticism daughter editor Ellis English expression fancy father feeling Fleetwood French Galaor genius Gertrude of Wyoming Godwin hand heart hero honour Hôtel de Rambouillet human humour imagination imitation interest John Bunyan John of Gaunt Jotunheim Kehama King knight labours Ladurlad lady language Lisuarte Lord Lord Byron Louis XIV manner merit metrical romances mind minstrels Molière Molière's moral narrative nature never original passages passion perhaps person piece Pilgrim Pilgrim's Progress pleasure poem poet poetical poetry possessed present prose racter reader resemblance ridicule satire scene seems sentiments songs Southey Spenser spirit stanzas story style tale talents Tartufe taste thee thou thought Thrym tion verse young Zaira
Popular passages
Page 160 - I STOOD in Venice on the Bridge of Sighs, A palace and a prison on each hand ; I saw from out the wave her structures rise As from the stroke of the enchanter's wand : A thousand years their cloudy wings expand Around me, and a dying Glory smiles O'er the far times, when many a subject land Look'd to the winged Lion's marble piles, Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles...
Page 449 - O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown! The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's, eye, tongue, sword; The expectancy and rose of the fair state, The glass of fashion and the mould of form, The observed of all observers, quite, quite down!
Page 234 - Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand : Why dost thou lash that whore ? strip thine own back ; Thou hotly lust'st to use her in that kind, For which thou whipp'st her.
Page 120 - Had we never loved sae kindly, Had we never loved sae blindly, Never met, or never parted, We had ne'er been broken-hearted.
Page 155 - It might be months, or years, or days, I kept no count — I took no note, I had no hope my eyes to raise, And clear them of their dreary mote ; At last men came to set me free...
Page 217 - Or, would'st thou lose thyself, and catch no harm ? And find thyself again without a charm ? Would'st read thyself, and read thou know'st not what, And yet know whether thou art blest or not, By reading the same lines ? O, then, come hither ; And lay my book, thy head and heart together.
Page 449 - ... crash And merciless ravage: and the shady nook Of hazels, and the green and mossy bower, Deformed and sullied, patiently gave up Their quiet being: and unless I now Confound my present feelings with the past...
Page 276 - It stood still, but I could not discern the form thereof: an image was before mine eyes, there was silence, and I heard a voice, saying, ""Shall mortal man be more just than God?
Page 162 - And even since, and now, fair Italy ! Thou art the garden of the world, the home Of all Art yields, and Nature (') can decree ; Even in thy desert, what is like to thee ? Thy very weeds are beautiful, thy waste ; More rich than other climes' fertility ; Thy wreck a glory, and thy ruin graced With an immaculate charm which cannot be defaced.
Page 164 - Were with his heart, and that was far away ; He reck'd not of the life he lost nor prize, But 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 Goths, and glut your ire!