The Novels and Poems of Sir Walter Scott: Woodstock

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Estes, 1894
 

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Page 201 - A wonderful and horrible thing is committed in the land; The prophets prophesy falsely, and the priests bear rule by their means; and my people love to have it so: and what will ye do in the end thereof (Jer.5:22-31).
Page xxv - No answer was given to this ; but the noise ceased for a while, when the spirit came again, and, as they all agreed,' brought with it seven devils worse than itself. One of the servants now lighted a large candle, and set it in the doorway between the two chambers, to see what passed ; and as...
Page 125 - O, welcome, pure-eyed Faith, white-handed Hope, Thou hovering angel girt with golden wings, And thou unblemished form of Chastity! I see ye visibly, and now believe That He, the Supreme Good, to whom all things ill Are but as slavish officers of vengeance, Would send a glistering guardian, if need were, To keep my life and honour unassailed...
Page 125 - Good, to whom all things ill Are but as slavish officers of vengeance, Would send a glistering guardian, if need were, To keep my life and honour unassailed. . . . Was I deceived, or did a sable cloud Turn forth her silver lining on the night? I did not err: there does a sable cloud Turn forth her silver lining on the night, And casts a gleam over this tufted grove.
Page 301 - The king therefore, for her defence, Against the furious queen, At Woodstock builded such a bower, The like was never seen. Most curiously that bower was built Of stone and timber strong, An hundred and fifty doors Did to this bower belong. And they so cunningly contrived With turnings round about, That none but with a clue of thread Could enter in or out.
Page 250 - Now the wasted brands do glow, Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud, Puts the wretch, that lies in woe, In remembrance of a shroud. Now it is the time of night, That the graves, all gaping wide, Every one lets forth his sprite, In the church-way paths to glide.
Page 11 - Gird thy sword upon thy thigh, O most Mighty, with thy glory and thy majesty. And in thy majesty ride prosperously because of truth and meekness and righteousness ; and thy right hand shall teach thee terrible things.
Page 269 - But see, his face is black and full of blood; His eyeballs further out than when he lived, Staring full ghastly like a strangled man: His hair uprear'd, his nostrils stretch'd with struggling ; His hands abroad display'd, as one that grasp'd And tugg'd for life, and was by strength subdued.
Page xxii - Commissioners' servants, as they were in bed in the same room with their honours, had their bed's feet lifted up so much higher than their heads, that they expected to have their necks broken, and then they were let fall at once with such violence...
Page 36 - Were there death in the cup. Here's a health to King Charles ! Though he wanders through dangers, Unaided, unknown, Dependent on strangers, Estranged from his own ; Though 'tis under our breath, Amidst forfeits and perils, Here's to honour and faith, And a health to King Charles...

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