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Abbey ancient battle beautiful born branch Bridge Bruce built called carried Castle cathedral centre century Charles chief church close Clyde coach College contains crosses crowned Douglas Duke Earl early Edward England English fair Falls famous Field foot founded further Glasgow Glen Hall hand head held Henry Highland hills hundred interest island James John Junction keeps King known Lady lake later lies line runs Loch London Lord lovely MAIN LINE Mary memories miles monument neighbourhood night northward once passes pleasant present Prince Queen railway reached region remains residence Richard rising river road Robert Roman round route royal ruin runs scene Scotland Scott Scottish seat seen shore side stands station steamer stone story Street stronghold thousand to-day took Tower town train valley village Wales walls waters wild wooded
Page 27 - The dews of summer night did fall ; The moon, sweet regent of the -sky, Silver'd the walls of Cumnor Hall, And many an oak that grew thereby.
Page 127 - I wish I were where Helen lies; Night and day on me she cries; And I am weary of the skies, For her sake that died for me.
Page 128 - O that I were where Helen lies ! Night and day on me she cries; Out of my bed she bids me rise, Says, 'Haste and come to me!
Page 27 - Silver'd the walls of Cumnor Hall, And many an oak that grew thereby. Now nought was heard beneath the skies, The sounds of busy life were still, Save an unhappy lady's sighs, That issued from that lonely pile.
Page 28 - The village maids with fearful glance Avoid the ancient moss-grown wall, Nor ever lead the merry dance Among the groves of Cumnor Hall. Full many a traveller oft hath sighed, And pensive wept the countess' fall, As wandering onwards they 've espied The haunted towers of Cumnor Hall.
Page 27 - Thus sore and sad that lady grieved, In Cumnor Hall so lone and drear ; And many a heartfelt sigh she heaved, And let fall many a bitter tear. And ere the dawn of day...
Page 152 - While the blue Night crept up the stream. The wild Train plunges in the hills, He shrieks across the midnight rills; Streams through the shifting glare, The roar and flap of foundry fires, That shake with light the sleeping shires; And on the moorlands bare, He sees afar a crown of light Hang o'er thee in the hollow night.
Page 45 - You meaner beauties of the night, That poorly satisfy our eyes More by your number than your light, You common people of the skies, — What are you when the sun shall rise?