The Waverley Novels, Volume 25

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A. and C. Black, 1860
 

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Page 82 - I do love these ancient ruins. We never tread upon them but we set Our foot upon some reverend history; And, questionless, here in this open court, Which now lies naked to the injuries Of stormy weather, some men lie...
Page 268 - Goes on to sea, and knows not to retire. With roomy decks, her guns of mighty strength, Whose low-laid mouths each mounting billow laves : Deep in her draught, and warlike in her length, She seems a sea-wasp flying on the waves.
Page 167 - A fiery soul, which, working out its way, Fretted the pigmy body to decay, And o'er-informed the tenement of clay. A daring pilot in extremity; Pleased with the danger, when the waves went high He sought the storms; but, for a calm unfit, Would steer too nigh the sands to boast his wit.
Page 281 - Some of their chiefs were princes of the land; In the first rank of these did Zimri stand, A man so various that he seemed to be Not one, but all mankind's epitome...
Page 290 - Over the mountains And over the waves, Under the fountains And under the graves ; Under floods that are deepest, Which Neptune obey ; Over rocks that are steepest Love will find out the way.
Page 1 - THE moral bard, from whom we borrow the motto of this chapter, has touched a theme with which most readers have some feelings that vibrate unconsciously. Superstition, when not arrayed in her full horrors, but laying a gentle hand only on her suppliant's head, had...
Page 97 - Nae langer she wept, — her tears were a' spent,— Despair it was come, and she thought it content ; She thought it content, but her cheek it grew pale, And she droop'd, like a lily broke down by the hail.* CONTINUATION OF AULD ROBIN GRAY.
Page 288 - Madness but meanly represents my rage.' And then, again, that little, soft, shy, tearful trembler, for Statira, to hear her recite — ' He speaks the kindest words, and looks such things, Vows with such passion, swears with so much grace, That 'tis a kind of heaven to be deluded by him.
Page 292 - The country rings around with loud alarms, And raw in fields the rude militia swarms; Mouths without hands; maintained at vast expense, In peace a charge, in war a weak defence ; Stout once a month they march, a blustering band, And ever, but in times of need, at hand...
Page 19 - There was a laughing Devil in his sneer, That raised emotions both of rage and fear; And where his frown of hatred darkly fell, Hope withering fled, and Mercy sigh'd farewell!

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