Waverley Novels, Volumen2

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Ticknor and Fields, 1867

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Página 37 - Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf, Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace. With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design Moves like a ghost.
Página 13 - Jerusalem ! It is the will of God — it is the will of God...
Página 145 - Fell thirst and famine scowl A baleful smile upon their baffled guest. Heard ye the din of battle bray, Lance to lance, and horse to horse ? Long years of havoc urge their destined course, And thro' the kindred squadrons mow their way.
Página 185 - Muhme give me the dirk. You cannot tell by the colour the difference betwixt the blood of a black bullock and a white one, and you speak of knowing Saxon from Gaelic blood. All men have their blood from Adam, Muhme. Give me my skene-dhu, and let me go on my road. I should have been halfway to Stirling Brig by this time. Give me my dirk, and let me go.' 'Never will I give it to you...
Página 87 - He forgets neither friend nor foe — remembers, and with accuracy, both benefit and injury. He hath a share of man's intelligence, but no share of man's falsehood. You may bribe a soldier to slay a man with his sword, or a witness to take life by false accusation ; but you cannot make a hound tear bia benefactor — he is the friend of man, save when man justly incurs his enmity.
Página 117 - He that climbs the tall tree has won right to the fruit, He that leaps the wide gulf should prevail in his suit...
Página 94 - GOING TO THE WARS Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind, That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As thou too shalt adore; I could not love thee, Dear, so much, Loved I not Honour more.

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