The Works of Walter Scott, Esq: Marmion; a tale of Flodden field

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Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown, William Miller and John Murray, London; and for A. Constable and Company and John Ballantyne and Company Edinburgh, 1813

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254 psl. - So stately his form, and so lovely her face, That never a hall such a galliard did grace; While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume; And the bride-maidens whispered, " Twere better by far To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar.
255 psl. - mong Graemes of the Netherby clan ; Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran : There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lee, But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see. So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?
253 psl. - Netherby gate, The bride had consented, the gallant came late ; For a laggard in love and a dastard in war Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.
331 psl. - twere not for thy hoary beard, Such hand as Marmion's had not spared To cleave the Douglas' head. And first I tell thee, haughty peer, He, who does England's message here, Although the meanest in her State, May well, proud Angus, be thy mate. And, Douglas...
253 psl. - Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword (For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word), "O, come ye in peace here, or come ye in war Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?
212 psl. - With gloomy splendour red ; For on the smoke-wreaths, huge and slow, That round her sable turrets flow, The morning beams were shed, And tinged them with a lustre proud, Like that which streaks a thunder-cloud. Such dusky grandeur clothed the height, Where the huge Castle holds its state, And all the steep slope down, Whose ridgy back heaves to the sky, Piled deep and massy, close and high, Mine own romantic town...
356 psl. - O woman ! in our hours of ease, Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, And variable as the shade By the light quivering aspen made ; When pain and anguish wring the brow, A ministering angel thou...
137 psl. - Where shall the traitor rest, He, the deceiver, Who could win maiden's breast, Ruin, and leave her ? In the lost battle, Borne down by the flying, Where mingles war's rattle With groans of the dying ; Eleu loro There shall he be lying.
363 psl. - To break the Scottish circle deep, That fought around their King. But yet, though thick the shafts as snow, Though charging knights like whirlwinds go, Though bill-men ply the ghastly blow, Unbroken was the ring ; The stubborn spearmen still made good Their dark impenetrable wood, Each stepping where his comrade stood, The instant that he fell. No thought was there of dastard flight; Linked in the serried phalanx tight, Groom fought like noble, squire like knight, As fearlessly and well ; Till utter...
103 psl. - Had given him to the headsman's stroke, Although my heart that instant broke. — Now, men of death, work forth your will, For I can suffer, and be still ; And come he slow, or come he fast, It is but Death who comes at last.

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