the waverley novels

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Strona 154 - Looking tranquillity ! It strikes an awe And terror on my aching sight ; the tombs And monumental caves of death look cold, And shoot a chillness to my trembling heart. Give me thy hand, and let me hear thy voice; Nay, quickly speak to me, and let me hear Thy voice — my own affrights me with its echoes.
Strona 159 - I'll tell thee; On the Rialto, every night at twelve, I take my evening's walk of meditation ; There we two will meet, and talk of precious Mischief Jaf.
Strona 364 - All school-days' friendship, childhood innocence ? We, Hermia, like two artificial gods, Have with our needles created both one flower, Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion, Both warbling of one song, both in one key ; As if our hands, our sides...
Strona 347 - Reuben and Rachel, though as fond as doves, Were yet discreet and cautious in their loves; Nor would attend to Cupid's wild commands, Till cool reflection bade them join their hands: When both were poor, they thought it argued ill Of hasty love to make them poorer still...
Strona 299 - Atlantic wave ? Is India free ? and does she wear her plumed And jewelled turban with a smile of peace, Or do we grind her still? The grand debate, The popular harangue, the tart reply, The logic, and the wisdom, and the wit, And the loud laugh — I long to know them all ; I burn to set the imprisoned wranglers free, And give them voice and utterance once again.
Strona 247 - has already paid the last ransom which mortal man can owe." " Eh ! What ? " exclaimed my companion hastily ; " what d'ye say ? I trust it was in the skirmish he was killed ? " " He was slain in cold blood, after the fight was over, Mr. Campbell." " Cold blood ? — Damnation ! " he said, muttering betwixt his teeth — " How fell that, sir ? Speak out, sir, and do not Maister or Campbell me — my foot is on my native heath, and my name is MacGregor...
Strona 15 - For why ? — because the good old rule Sufficeth them, the simple plan, That they should take, who have the power, And they should keep who can.
Strona 15 - Say then that he was wise as brave ; As wise in thought, as bold in deed : For in the principles of things He sought his moral creed. Said generous Rob, ' what need of books ? Burn all the statutes and their shelves ; They stir us up against our kind ; And worse, against ourselves.
Strona 162 - He that is without name, without friends, without coin, without country, is still at least a man ; and he that has all these is no more.
Strona 61 - The Scots are poor, cries surly English pride. True is the charge ; nor by themselves denied. Are they not, then, in strictest reason clear Who wisely come to mend their fortunes here ? CHURCHILL.

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