Le opere poetiche di Sir Walter Scott, baronet; ed con una attenta revisione del testo . d matrone quaresima :ma oer guerrieri sanguinosa bierThe Ladye sceso né il fiore né strappare !vendetta e deep-meditabondo oer i cadaveri. Aveva bloccato la fonte di guai più morbido.e la masterizzazione di orgoglio e di alta disprezzo proibì la risalita di strappare al flusso ;fino a quando, tra il suo clan sofferente. Suo figlio lisped da infermieri del ginocchio, e se io vivo per essere un uomo. La mia morte dei padri revenged devono essere ! Ha osato cercare svmpathy.Il suo amante gainst il suo clan dei padri con Carr in armi era fermato.Quando Mathouse-masterizzare a Melrose ha eseguito tutti i viola con il

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The poetical works of Sir Walter Scott, baronet; ed with a careful revision of the text . d matrons lent :But oer her warriors bloody bierThe Ladye dropped nor flower nor tear !Vengeance, deep-brooding oer the slain. Had locked the source of softer woe.And burning pride and high disdain Forbade the rising tear to flow ;Until, amid his sorrowing clan. Her son lisped from the nurses knee, And if I live to be a man. My fathers death revenged shall be ! Dared she to look for svmpathy.Her lover gainst her fathers clan With Carr in arms had stood.When Mathouse-burn to Melrose ran All purple with their blood ;And well she knew her mother dread.Before Lord Cranstoun she should wed.Would see her on her dvinsr bed. Of noble race the Ladve came;Her father was a clerk of fame 8 SCOTTS POETICAL jrOKAS. Of Bethunes line of IMcardic :He learned tlie art tliat none may name In Iadua, far l)eyon(l the sea.Men said he changed his mortal frame By feat of ma^ic mystery ;For when in studious mood he jiaced Saint Andrews cloistered hall.His form no darkcninji shadow traced Upon the sunny wall I. And of his skill, as bards avow, He taught that Ladye fair, Till to her bidding she could bow The viewless forms of air.And now she sits in secret bower.In old Lord Davids western tower.And listens to a heavy soundThat moans the mossy turrets round.Is it the roar of Teviots tide.That chafes against the scaurs red side ?Is it the wind, that swings the oaks?Is it the echo from the rocks?What may it be, the heavy sound, That moans old Branksomes turrets round? At the sullen, moaning sound The ban-dogs bay and howl.And from the turrets round Loud whoops the startled owl.In the hall, both scjuire and knight Swore that a storm was near, And looked forth to view the night; But the night was still and clear ! From the sound of Teviots tide.Chafing with the mountains side.From the groan of the wind-swung oak, From the sullen echo of the rock. From the voice of the coming storm, The Ladye knew it well !It was

Parole chiave associate all'immagine

• bookauthorrolfewjw
• bookcentury1800
• bookdecade1880
• bookyear1888