The Harp of Renfrewshire: A Collection of Songs and Other Poetical Pieces (many of which are Original) Accompanied with Notes, Explanatory, Critical, and Biographical, and a Short Essay on the Poets of Renfrewshire, Bind 1A. Gardner, 1872 - 454 sider |
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Side xiv
... father in 1547 , and died in 1576. He lived in a splendid though troubled æra of our national history , and himself was no inconsiderable actor in its chequered scenes and shifting accidents . His devotion seems to have approached to ...
... father in 1547 , and died in 1576. He lived in a splendid though troubled æra of our national history , and himself was no inconsiderable actor in its chequered scenes and shifting accidents . His devotion seems to have approached to ...
Side xxiii
... father , because they may have acquired fame without the author's knowledge ; or if he was aware of that circum- stance , prudence or modesty may have withheld him from reaping the honour by an avowal ; or they may have risen into ...
... father , because they may have acquired fame without the author's knowledge ; or if he was aware of that circum- stance , prudence or modesty may have withheld him from reaping the honour by an avowal ; or they may have risen into ...
Side lix
... fathers Latin ? And said they mass in surplices and satin ? Could they speak Latin , long ere Latin grew ? And without Latin no mass can be true . And as for heretics that now translate it , False miscreants , they shame the mass , and ...
... fathers Latin ? And said they mass in surplices and satin ? Could they speak Latin , long ere Latin grew ? And without Latin no mass can be true . And as for heretics that now translate it , False miscreants , they shame the mass , and ...
Side lxxiv
... father wad hae me to marry the miller , My mither wad hae me to marry the laird , But brawly I ken it's the love o ' the siller , That heightens their fancy to ony regard , The miller is crooket , the miller is crabbet , LXXIV .
... father wad hae me to marry the miller , My mither wad hae me to marry the laird , But brawly I ken it's the love o ' the siller , That heightens their fancy to ony regard , The miller is crooket , the miller is crabbet , LXXIV .
Side 9
... I was once a mother's pride , And my brave father's hope and joy ; But in the Nile's proud fight he died , And now I am an Orphan Boy . L Poor foolish child ! how pleased was I When news How sweet 'tis to look at the red blushing ...
... I was once a mother's pride , And my brave father's hope and joy ; But in the Nile's proud fight he died , And now I am an Orphan Boy . L Poor foolish child ! how pleased was I When news How sweet 'tis to look at the red blushing ...
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The Harp of Renfrewshire: A Collection of Songs and Other Poetical Pieces ... William Motherwell Ingen forhåndsvisning - 2016 |
Almindelige termer og sætninger
Alace Arthurlie auld Bard beauty birken bloom blythe bonny lassie bonny Peggy bosom bower braes breast breath bright Buttermere canna cauld charms cheek dear death delight Dunblane e'en e'er Ellen fair fame father flower frae Francis Sempill genius glow grave gude hame happy heart heaven honour hope ilka Jean Adam Johnny Katy lady land lass little sweep lo'e lov'd lover maid Mary maun morning mourn native ne'er never night o'er owre Paisley pleasure poem poet poetical poor quhat R. A. Smith Renfrewshire Robert Sempill rose round Scotish Scotland Sempill sigh sing sleep smile song sorrow soul sung sweet sweetly Tannahill tear thair thee there's thine thou Tralee tree Twas vows wander warl wave weary weel weep wild Willy winds wyllowe yon burn side youth
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Side 281 - Go, lovely Rose! Tell her, that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts, where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. 226 Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired: Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired.
Side 334 - Take, oh take those lips away, That so sweetly were forsworn; And those eyes, the break of day, Lights that do mislead the morn; But my kisses bring again, bring again, Seals of love, but seal'd in vain.
Side 5 - We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed, And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow ! Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him ; But little hell reck if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him...
Side 383 - Row, brothers, row ! the stream runs fast, The rapids are near, and the daylight's past!
Side 415 - Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies, Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten,— In folly ripe, in reason rotten. Thy belt of straw and ivy buds, Thy coral clasps and amber studs,— All these in me no means can move To come to thee and be thy love.
Side 267 - No rude sound shall reach thine ear, Armour's clang, or war-steed champing, Trump nor pibroch summon here, Mustering clan, or squadron tramping. Yet the lark's shrill fife may come At the daybreak from the fallow, And the bittern sound his drum, Booming from the sedgy shallow. Ruder sounds shall none be near, Guards nor warders challenge here, Here's no war-steed's neigh and champing, Shouting clans or squadrons stamping.
Side 412 - Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle. A gown made of the finest wool, Which from our pretty lambs we pull, Fair lined slippers for the cold, With buckles of the purest gold.
Side 4 - By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest With his martial cloak around him. Few and short were the prayers we said, And -we spoke not a word of sorrow; But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead, And we bitterly thought of the morrow.
Side 16 - MINE be a cot beside the hill; A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear A willowy brook, that turns a mill, With many a fall shall linger near. The swallow, oft beneath my thatch, Shall twitter from her clay-built nest; Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch, And share my meal, a welcome guest.
Side 413 - The shepherd swains shall dance and sing For thy delight each May morning: If these delights thy mind may move, Then live with me and be my love.