Songs of Scotland, ed. by C. MackayCharles Mackay 1857 |
Fra bogen
Resultater 1-5 af 55
Side 13
... bards , many of them nameless , make no pretence to be refined ; yet amidst their rudest snatches we often light upon the happiest thoughts , expressed of no contemptible emendations and new readings of the old INTRODUCTION . 13.
... bards , many of them nameless , make no pretence to be refined ; yet amidst their rudest snatches we often light upon the happiest thoughts , expressed of no contemptible emendations and new readings of the old INTRODUCTION . 13.
Side 18
... thoughts did evermore disdain A rival on my throne . He either fears his fate too much , Or his deserts are small , Who dares not put it to the touch To gain or lose it all . But I will reign and govern still , And always give the law ...
... thoughts did evermore disdain A rival on my throne . He either fears his fate too much , Or his deserts are small , Who dares not put it to the touch To gain or lose it all . But I will reign and govern still , And always give the law ...
Side 22
... thought upon , The flames of love extinguish'd , And freely past and gone ? Is thy kind heart now grown so cold In that loving breast of thine , That thou canst never once reflect On old long syne ? Where are thy protestations , Thy ...
... thought upon , The flames of love extinguish'd , And freely past and gone ? Is thy kind heart now grown so cold In that loving breast of thine , That thou canst never once reflect On old long syne ? Where are thy protestations , Thy ...
Side 23
... thoughts of you do banish grief , When I'm from you removed , And if in them I find relief When with sad cares I'm moved , How doth your presence me affect With ecstasies divine , Especially when I reflect On old long syne . Since thou ...
... thoughts of you do banish grief , When I'm from you removed , And if in them I find relief When with sad cares I'm moved , How doth your presence me affect With ecstasies divine , Especially when I reflect On old long syne . Since thou ...
Side 29
... thought to lie in Methven kirkyard Amang their noble kin ; But they maun lie in Stronach Haugh To beek forenent the sun . And Bessie Bell and Mary Gray , They were twa bonnie lasses ; They biggit a bower on yon burn - brae , And theekit ...
... thought to lie in Methven kirkyard Amang their noble kin ; But they maun lie in Stronach Haugh To beek forenent the sun . And Bessie Bell and Mary Gray , They were twa bonnie lasses ; They biggit a bower on yon burn - brae , And theekit ...
Indhold
147 | |
151 | |
154 | |
159 | |
165 | |
173 | |
184 | |
186 | |
49 | |
59 | |
70 | |
71 | |
72 | |
73 | |
79 | |
82 | |
88 | |
97 | |
98 | |
100 | |
107 | |
115 | |
130 | |
131 | |
133 | |
137 | |
138 | |
190 | |
192 | |
194 | |
202 | |
209 | |
210 | |
221 | |
223 | |
225 | |
229 | |
229 | |
231 | |
233 | |
242 | |
255 | |
257 | |
276 | |
290 | |
299 | |
Almindelige termer og sætninger
aboon ain countrie ain fireside ALLAN CUNNINGHAM ALLAN RAMSAY amang auld baith beautiful Behave yoursel birks of Aberfeldy blaw bloom blythe boatie rows bonnie lassie bosom braw canna cauld charms dear dearie Delvin dinna doun e'en e'er fair Farewell flower frae Gala water gane gang gi'e gin ye green gude gudeman heart heather heaven Highland laddie Jamie Jeanie John Anderson kiss kye come hame Lady lass leave thee Lizzy Lindsay lo'e Logan braes lover Maggie Mary maun melody mither mony nae mair naething nane ne'er never o'er ower Peter Buchan plaidie Rob Morris ROBERT TANNAHILL says Burns siller sing smile snaw stanza sung SUSANNA BLAMIRE sweet syne Tea-Table Miscellany tears thegither thine Thomson thou wadna wee thing weel Willie winna Yarrow ye'll yon lane glen young
Populære passager
Side 125 - He is gone on the mountain, He is lost to the forest, Like a summer-dried fountain, When our need was the sorest. The font, reappearing, From the rain-drops shall borrow, But to us comes no cheering, To Duncan no morrow ! The hand of the reaper Takes the ears that are hoary, But the voice of the weeper Wails manhood in glory.
Side 171 - Wha, for Scotland's king and law, Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Freeman stand, or freeman fa', Let him follow me! By oppression's woes and pains ! By your sons in servile chains ! We will drain our dearest veins, But they shall be free ! Lay the proud usurpers low ! Tyrants fall in every foe!
Side 283 - MY HEART'S in the Highlands, my heart is not here; My heart's in the Highlands, a-chasing the deer; Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe — My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go.
Side 217 - Wear hoddin gray, and a' that; Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine, A Man's a Man for a
Side 284 - My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here, My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer, A-chasing the wild deer and following the roe — My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go!
Side 127 - A weary lot is thine, fair maid, A weary lot is thine ! To pull the thorn thy brow to braid, And press the rue for wine ! A lightsome eye, a soldier's mien, A feather of the blue, A doublet of the Lincoln green, — No more of me you knew, My love ! No more of me yon knew.
Side 112 - O pale, pale now, those rosy lips, I aft hae kiss'd sae fondly ! And closed for aye the sparkling glance That dwelt on me sae kindly : And mouldering now in silent dust That heart that lo'ed me dearly ! But still within my bosom's core Shall live my Highland Mary.
Side 116 - Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest ! Fare thee weel, thou best and dearest ! Thine be ilka joy and treasure, Peace, Enjoyment, Love, and Pleasure ! Ae fond kiss, and then we sever ! Ae fareweel, alas ! for ever ! Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee, Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.
Side 74 - Bout stacks wi' the lasses at bogle to play; But ilk ane sits drearie, lamenting her dearie — The Flowers of the Forest are weded away. Dool and wae for the order, sent our lads to the Border ! The English, for ance, by guile wan the day ; The Flowers of the Forest, that fought aye the foremost, The prime of our land, are cauld in the clay.
Side 91 - O Mary ! dear departed shade ! "Where is thy place of blissful rest? Seest thou thy lover lowly laid? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast? That sacred hour can I forget? Can I forget the hallow'd grove, Where by the winding Ayr we met, To live one day of parting love?