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answer arms band bear beneath Bertram blood bold bore bound brave breast bright brow Bruce castle close dare dark death deep dread drew face fair faith fame fate fear fell fierce fight fire gave give given glance glow gold grace gray hall hand Harold hast hath head hear heard heart Heaven hill hold hope hour King knight land leave light living look Lord Lorn loud maid maiden mark meet morning Mortham mountain noble o'er once pale passed pause pride raised Redmond rest rock round seemed seen shore side smile song soon sought soul sound spear spoke stern stone stood stream strong sword tale tell thee thine thou thought Till tower train turned voice wake wave wild Wilfrid wind wood young youth
Side 60 - Brignall banks are fresh and fair, And Greta woods are green; I'd rather rove with Edmund there, Than reign our English queen.' 'If, maiden, thou wouldst wend with me, To leave both tower and town, Thou first must guess what life lead we, That dwell by dale and down. And if thou canst that riddle read, As read full well you may, Then to the greenwood shall thou speed, As blithe as Queen of May.' Yet sung she, 'Brignall banks are fair, And Greta woods are green; I'd rather rove with Edmund there,...
Side 70 - 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 you knew. "This morn is merry June, I trow, The rose is budding fain ;* But she shall bloom in winter snow, Ere we two meet again.
Side 207 - But here, — above, around, below, On mountain or in glen, Nor tree, nor shrub, nor plant, nor flower, Nor aught of vegetative power, The weary eye may ken. For all is rocks at random thrown, Black waves, bare crags, and banks of stone...
Side 59 - I'm with my comrades met, Beneath the greenwood bough, What once we were we all forget, Nor think what we are now. CHORUS. " Yet Brignall banks are fresh and fair, And Greta woods are green, And you may gather garlands there Would grace a summer queen.
Side 229 - Scarba's isle, whose tortured shore Still rings to Corrievreken's roar, And lonely Colonsay ; — Scenes sung by him who sings no more ! His bright and' brief career is o'er, And mute his tuneful strains ; Quenched is his lamp of varied lore That loved the light of song to pour ; A distant and a deadly shore Has LEYDEN'S cold remains ! XII.
Side 60 - Brignall banks are fair, And Greta woods are gay ; I would I were with Edmund there To reign his Queen of May ! ' With burnish'd brand and musketoon So gallantly you come, I read you for a bold Dragoon That lists the tuck of drum.
Side 61 - Maiden! a nameless life I lead, A nameless death I'll die; The fiend whose lantern lights the mead Were better mate than I ! And when I'm with my comrades met Beneath the greenwood bough, — What once we were we all forget, Nor think what we are now.' Chorus 'Yet Brignall banks are fresh and fair, And Greta woods are green, And you may gather garlands there Would grace a summer queen.
Side 71 - Ravensworth 3 prances in pride, And he views his domains upon Arkindale side. The mere for his net, and the land for his game, The chase for the wild, and the park for the tame ; Yet the fish of the lake, and the deer of the vale, Are less...
Side 72 - Allen-a-Dale. The father was steel, and the mother was stone ; They lifted the latch, and they bade him be gone ; But loud, on the morrow, their wail and their cry : He had...
Side 152 - Tis in the churchyard now — the tread Hath waked the dwelling of the dead ! Fresh sod, and old sepulchral stone, Return the tramp in varied tone. All eyes upon the gateway hung, When through the Gothic arch there sprung A horseman arm'd, at headlong speed — Sable his cloak, his plume, his steed.