The Novels and Poems of Sir Walter Scott: Peveril of the Peak

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Estes, 1893
 

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Page 181 - Ah me! for aught that ever I could read. Could ever hear by tale or history, The course of true love never did run smooth: But, either it was different in blood; Her.
Page 238 - A man so various, that he seemed to be Not one, but all mankind's epitome : Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong, Was everything by starts, and nothing long; But, in the course of one revolving moon, Was chemist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon ; Then all for women, painting, rhyming, drinking, Besides ten thousand freaks that died in thinking.
Page 247 - To him the venerable priest, Our frequent and familiar guest, Whose life and manners well could paint Alike the student and the saint ; Alas...
Page 299 - ... much wearied and fatigued. He went the next day and communicated to the minister of the parish all that had happened, and asked his advice how he should dispose of the cup ; to which the parson replied, he could not do better than...
Page 108 - What is this world ? what axen men to have ? Now with his love, now in his colde grave Alone withouten any compagnie.
Page 226 - A tall man of a reverend appearance, whom no one of us had ever seen before, suddenly was in the midst of us, as we hastily agitated the resolution of retreating. His garments were of the skin of the elk, and he wore sword and carried gun ; I never saw any thing more august than his features, overshadowed by locks of grey hair, which mingled with a long beard of the same colour.

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