Name That Author

[wrdsandwrks]

New Author:

All hell broke loose.

A wilderness of sweets.

Far off his coming shone.

The brazen throat of war.

Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth

Unseen, both when we wake and when we sleep.

Milton?

[bfh]

Milton?

Man, you're good, wrds.

Milton is correct.

The quotes are from Paradise Lost.

Your turn...

[wrdsandwrks]

Man, you're good, wrds.

Thanks b., not nearly as good as you are...

New Author:

O young Lochinvar is come out of the west,

Through all the wide Border his steed was the best;

And save his good broadsword he weapons had none,

He rode all unarm'd, and he rode all alone.

So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war,

There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.

He staid not for brake, and he stopp'd not for stone,

He swam the Eske river where ford there was none;

But ere he alighted at Netherby gate,

The bride had consented, the gallant came late:

For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war,

Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.

So boldly he enter'd the Netherby Hall,

Among bride's-men, and kinsmen, and brothers and all:

Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword,

(For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word,)

"O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war,

Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?"

"I long woo'd your daughter, my suit you denied; --

Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide --

And now I am come, with this lost love of mine,

To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine.

There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far,

That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar."

The bride kiss'd the goblet: the knight took it up,

He quaff'd off the wine, and he threw down the cup.

She look'd down to blush, and she look'd up to sigh,

With a smile on her lips and a tear in her eye.

He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar, --

"Now tread we a measure!" said young Lochinvar.

So stately his form, and so lovely her face,

That never a hall such a gailiard did grace;

While her mother did fret, and her father did fume

And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume;

And the bride-maidens whisper'd, "'twere better by far

To have match'd our fair cousin with young Lochinvar."

One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear,

When they reach'd the hall-door, and the charger stood near;

So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung,

So light to the saddle before her he sprung!

"She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur;

They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young Lochinvar.

There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby clan;

Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran:

There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lee,

But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see.

So daring in love, and so dauntless in war,

Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?

[GeorgeStGeorge]

Robert Burns?

George

[wrdsandwrks]

Robert Burns?

George

no not Burns, but a fellow countryman.

[doojable]

Keats?

[wrdsandwrks]

Keats?

Not Keats.

Here's another:

Glowing with love, on fire for fame

A Troubadour that hated sorrow

Beneath his lady's window came,

And thus he sung his last good-morrow:

"My arm it is my country's right,

My heart is in my true-love's bower;

Gaily for love and fame to fight

Befits the gallant Troubadour."

And while he marched with helm on head

And harp in hand, the descant rung,

As faithful to his favourite maid,

The minstrel-burden still he sung:

"My arm it is my country's right,

My heart is in my lady's bower;

Resolved for love and fame to fight

I come, a gallant Troubadour."

Even when the battle-roar was deep,

With dauntless heart he hewed his way,

'Mid splintering lance and falchion-sweep,

And still was heard his warrior-lay:

"My life it is my country's right,

My heart is in my lady's bower;

For love to die, for fame to fight,

Becomes the valiant Troubadour."

Alas! upon the bloody field

He fell beneath the foeman's glaive,

But still reclining on his shield,

Expiring sung the exulting stave:-

"My life it is my country's right,

My heart is in my lady's bower;

For love and fame to fall in fight

Becomes the valiant Troubadour."

[wrdsandwrks]

Here's a quote from one of his prose works:

While the scenes we have described were passing in other parts of the castle, the Jewess Rebecca awaited her fate in a distant and sequestered turret. Hither she had been led by two of her disguised ravishers, and, on being thrust into the little cell, she found herself in the presence of an old sibyl, who kept murmuring to herself a Saxon rhyme, as if to beat time to the revolving dance which her spindle was performing upon the floor. The hag raised her head as Rebecca entered, and scowled at the fair Jewess with the malignant envy with which old age and ugliness, when united with evil conditions, are apt to look upon youth and beauty.

[wrdsandwrks]

From another one of his novels:

I have no more of romantic adventure to tell, nor, indeed, anything to communicate farther, since the latter incidents of my life are so well known to one who has shared, with the most friendly sympathy, the joys, as well as the sorrows, by which its scenes have been chequered. I often visited Scotland, but never again saw the bold Highlander who had such an influence on the early events of my life. I learned, however, from time to time, that he continued to maintain his ground among the mountains of Loch Lomond, in despite of his powerful enemies, and that he even obtained, to a certain degree, the connivance of Government to his self-elected office of protector of the Lennox, in virtue of which he levied black-mail with as much regularity as the proprietors did their ordinary rents. It seemed impossible that his life should have concluded without a violent end. Nevertheless he died in old age and by a peaceful death, some time about the year 1733, and is still remembered in his country as the Robin Hood of Scotland—the dread of the wealthy, but the friend of the poor—and possessed of many qualities, both of head and heart, which would have graced a less equivocal profession than that to which his fate condemned him.

Old Andrew Fairservice used to say, that “There were many things ower bad for blessing, and ower gude for banning, like Rob Roy.”

Edited August 31, 2008 by wrdsandwrks

[Cynic]

Bump.

(Where the heck's Another Dan?)

Edited September 3, 2008 by Cynic

[bfh]

Is this the Scottish author who wrote Ivanhoe and Rob Roy: Sir Walter Scott?

[wrdsandwrks]

Is this the Scottish author who wrote Ivanhoe and Rob Roy: Sir Walter Scott?

That's right!

The 1st poem is (of course) named Lochnivar from Canto V of Marmion.

The 2nd poem is the Troubadour.

The 1st novel quote is from Ivanhoe and the 2nd is the last paragraphs of Rob Roy.

You're up BFH...

That's right!

The 1st poem is (of course) named Lochnivar from Canto V of Marmion.

The 2nd poem is the Troubadour.

The 1st novel quote is from Ivanhoe and the 2nd is the end of Rob Roy.

You're up BFH...

Edited to add that I found the novel Rob Roy to be completely different from the movie Rob Roy. I guess they're based on the same character, but there didn't seem to be much similarity between the two.

Edited September 3, 2008 by wrdsandwrks

[bfh]

Edited to add that I found the novel Rob Roy to be completely different from the movie Rob Roy. I guess they're based on the same character, but there didn't seem to be much similarity between the two.

As is often the case with Hollywood's take on novels, unfortunately.

New Author:

A casual stroll through the lunatic asylum shows that faith does not prove anything.

A subject for a great poet would be God's boredom after the seventh day of creation.

Ah, women. They make the highs higher and the lows more frequent.

Although the most acute judges of the witches and even the witches themselves, were convinced of the guilt of witchery, the guilt nevertheless was non-existent. It is thus with all guilt.

And we should consider every day lost on which we have not danced at least once. And we should call every truth false which was not accompanied by at least one laugh.

[now I see]

Thomas Jefferson?

Edited September 5, 2008 by now I see

[GeorgeStGeorge]

I'd guess Benjamin Franklin.

George

[now I see]

I ended up looking it up to see if my answer was right, neither one of us got it right....I'm out since I saw the answer, it's all yours...

[Cynic]

WAG: H. L. Mencken

[wrdsandwrks]

As is often the case with Hollywood's take on novels, unfortunately.

New Author:

A casual stroll through the lunatic asylum shows that faith does not prove anything.

A subject for a great poet would be God's boredom after the seventh day of creation.

Ah, women. They make the highs higher and the lows more frequent.

Although the most acute judges of the witches and even the witches themselves, were convinced of the guilt of witchery, the guilt nevertheless was non-existent. It is thus with all guilt.

And we should consider every day lost on which we have not danced at least once. And we should call every truth false which was not accompanied by at least one laugh.

Arthur Miller?

[now I see]

Nope, good guesses though, I'm gonna PM bfh, I think he has forgotten he posted this one...

[now I see]

Bfh hasn't checked into the Spot via his user name since Sept 3rd, I hope all is well with him....

I'm gonna give a hint to speed things along, which is: the author was alive somewhere between mine and GeorgeStGeorge's guesses and Cynic and wrdsandwrks guesses, and the first line is a tip off to the identity. Good luck!

[now I see]

Maybe we should just put this particular clue in abeyance until Bfh comes back, since no one is trying to solve it, and just let someone start another one to keep the ball rolling?

Does that sound OK? Anyone interested in doing that?

[GeorgeStGeorge]

I've been a little busy the past few days (Hurricane Ike, and all).

I think Now I See should just tell us who it is and go ahead with another author.

George

[now I see]

The answer is Friedrich Nietzsche. Anyone interested in posting a new clue?

[wrdsandwrks]

The answer is Friedrich Nietzsche. Anyone interested in posting a new clue?

Now I See,

I think you should post the next clue...

[now I see]

Heaven goes by favor; if it went by merit, you would stay out and your dog would go in.

If you tell the truth, you don't have to remember anything.

I have never let my schooling interfere with my education.

Let us be thankful for fools; but for them the rest of us could not succeed.

The human race consists of the dangerously insane and such as are not.

The holy passion of friendship is so sweet and so steady and loyal and enduring a nature that it will last through a whole lifetime, if not asked to lend money.

He has been a doctor for a year now and has had two patients-no three; I attended their funerals.

His money is twice tainted; 'taint yours and 'taint mine.

Man was made at the end of the week's work when God was tired.