The Lay of the Last Minstrel, Volume 2Scott, Foresman, 1899 - 211 pages |
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LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL William Vaughn 1869-1910 Moody,Walter Sir Scott, 1771-1832,Mary R. Ed Willard No preview available - 2016 |
Common terms and phrases
Abbotsford ancient archer band arms ballad band bard Baron Beattison beneath blaze blood blood-hound Border Branksome Branksome Hall Branksome's Buccleuch CANTO Carlisle wall castle chief clan coursers Dacre Dame dark dead Douglas dread Duchess Dwarf Earl Edinburgh Eskdale fair on Carlisle feudal goblin Gothic architecture hall hand harp Hawick heard heart Howard Instructor in English knight lady Ladye Ladye's lance Last Minstrel Liddesdale look'd Lord Cranstoun magic Margaret Melrose Melrose Abbey Michael Scott Minstrel minstrelsy Monk moss-trooper Musgrave ne'er noble o'er pass'd poem poet poetry pray'd pride ride rode romance round rung Scottish Seem'd Sir Walter Scott song spear spirit stanza steed stood story sword Teviot River Teviot's thee Thirlestane thou tide Tom Purdie tower VIII warriors Watt Tinlinn wave ween wild William of Deloraine WILLIAM VAUGHN MOODY XVII XXII XXIII XXIV XXIX XXVI XXVII XXXI
Popular passages
Page 97 - In peace, Love tunes the shepherd's reed; In war, he mounts the warrior's steed; In halls, in gay attire is seen; In hamlets, dances on the green. Love rules the court, the camp, the grove, And men below, and saints above ; For love is heaven, and heaven is love.
Page 64 - 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 159 - 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, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust from whence he sprung, Unwept, unhonored, and unsung.
Page 138 - 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 balm 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 61 - The way was long, the wind was cold, The minstrel was infirm and old; His withered cheek, and tresses gray, 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-aday!
Page 80 - When the broken arches are black in night, And each shafted oriel glimmers white; When the cold light's uncertain shower Streams on the ruined central tower; When buttress and buttress, alternately, Seem framed of ebon and ivory ; When silver edges the imagery, And the scrolls that teach thee to live and die...
Page 179 - 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? When, shrivelling like a parched scroll, The flaming heavens together roll, When louder yet, and yet more dread, Swells the high trump that wakes the dead...
Page 174 - Clair. There are twenty of Roslin's barons bold Lie buried within that proud chapelle; Each one the holy vault doth hold— But the sea holds lovely Rosabelle. And each St Clair was buried there, With candle, with book, and with knell ; But the sea-caves rung, and the wild winds sung, The dirge of lovely Rosabelle ! XXIV.
Page 84 - The moon on the east oriel shone, Through slender shafts of shapely stone, By foliaged tracery combined ; Thou would'st have thought some fairy's hand, 'Twixt poplars straight, the osier wand, In many a freakish knot had twined ; Then framed a spell, when the work was done, And changed the willow- wreaths to stone.
Page 62 - Duchess mark'd his weary pace, His timid mien, and reverend face, And bade her page the menials tell, That they should tend the old man well : For she had known adversity, Though born in such a high degree : In pride of power, in beauty's bloom, Had wept o'er Monmouth's bloody tomb...