Beauties of the Scottish poets, or Harp of Renfrewshire, a collection of songs and other poetical pieces, with notes, and a short essay on the poets of Renfrewshire [by W. Motherwell. Re-issue of the harp of Renfrewshire, with cancel title-leaf].1821 |
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Página xxxviii
... sweet frae the green birken tree , ” And the dreary appearance of the scenery in winter , is striking- ly pourtrayed in the second stanza , " Now naething is heard but the wind whistling dreary ; " And naething is seen but the wide ...
... sweet frae the green birken tree , ” And the dreary appearance of the scenery in winter , is striking- ly pourtrayed in the second stanza , " Now naething is heard but the wind whistling dreary ; " And naething is seen but the wide ...
Página xliii
... sweet pastoral whistle , when it listeth one to pipe melodiously in journeying through the classic dales of the southern shires as a pilgrim , towards the noble ruins of Melross and Dryburgh . - Do . of the Bush abune Traquair - Do . of ...
... sweet pastoral whistle , when it listeth one to pipe melodiously in journeying through the classic dales of the southern shires as a pilgrim , towards the noble ruins of Melross and Dryburgh . - Do . of the Bush abune Traquair - Do . of ...
Página lxiv
... sweet are her smiles upon Tweed ? Yet Mary's still sweeter than those ; Both nature and fancy exceed . Nor daisy , nor sweet blushing rose , Not all the gay flowers of the field , Not Tweed , gliding gently through those , Such beauty ...
... sweet are her smiles upon Tweed ? Yet Mary's still sweeter than those ; Both nature and fancy exceed . Nor daisy , nor sweet blushing rose , Not all the gay flowers of the field , Not Tweed , gliding gently through those , Such beauty ...
Página lxv
... sweet winding Tay , Or the pleasanter banks of the Tweed ? Robert Crawfurd . MY DEARIE , IF THOU DIE . Love never ... sweets impart , Must all the world engage . G ' Twas this , that like the morning sun , LXV.
... sweet winding Tay , Or the pleasanter banks of the Tweed ? Robert Crawfurd . MY DEARIE , IF THOU DIE . Love never ... sweets impart , Must all the world engage . G ' Twas this , that like the morning sun , LXV.
Página 7
... sweet , - When she can change who loved so truly , It feels what mine has felt so newly . To dream of joy and wake to sorrow Is doomed to all who love or live ; And if , when conscious on the morrow , We scarce our fancy can forgive ...
... sweet , - When she can change who loved so truly , It feels what mine has felt so newly . To dream of joy and wake to sorrow Is doomed to all who love or live ; And if , when conscious on the morrow , We scarce our fancy can forgive ...
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Beauties of the Scottish Poets, Or Harp of Renfrewshire, a Collection of ... Scottish Poets,Renfrew County Sin vista previa disponible - 2016 |
Términos y frases comunes
Alderney Arthurlie Bard beauty birken blaw bloom Blythely bonny lassie bonny Peggy bosom bower braes breast breath bright Buttermere cauld charms cheek dear death delight e'en e'er Ellen fair father flower frae Francis Sempill gane genius glow gude hame happy heart heaven ilka Jean Adam John Sim Johnny Katy lady lass little sweep lo'e lov'd lover maid Mary maun morning mourn nae mair native ne'er never night o'er owre Paisley peace pleasure poem poet poetical poor quhat R. A. Smith Renfrewshire Robert Sempill Robert Tannahill rose round Scotish Scotland Sempill sigh sing sleep smile song sorrow soul sung sweet sweetly Tannahill tear thair thee There's thine thou thro tree Twas wander warl wave weary weel weep wild Willy wind wyllowe yon burn side youth
Pasajes populares
Página 336 - 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.
Página 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 of the dead, And we bitterly thought of the morrow.
Página 283 - 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 had'st thou sprung In deserts where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. 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. Then die ! that she The common fate of all things rare May read in thee, —...
Página 138 - She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps, And lovers around her are sighing; But coldly she turns from their gaze and weeps, For her heart in his grave is lying.
Página 414 - With coral clasps and amber studs: And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me and be my love.
Página 384 - FAINTLY as tolls the evening chime, Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time. Soon as the woods on shore look dim, We'll sing at St. Ann's our parting hymn. Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast, The Rapids are near and the daylight's past.
Página 273 - THE YOUNG MAY MOON. THE young May moon is beaming, love, The glow-worm's lamp is gleaming, love, How sweet to rove Through Morna's grove,* When the drowsy world is dreaming, love ! Then awake ! — the heavens look bright, my dear, 'Tis never too late for delight, my dear, And the best of all ways To lengthen our days Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear.
Página 416 - The flowers do fade, and wanton fields To wayward Winter reckoning yields: A honey tongue, a heart of gall, Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall. Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies, Soon break, soon wither — soon forgotten...
Página 3 - NOT a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried.
Página 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...