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 54
... leaves , The foxglove shuts its bell , The honey - suckle and the birk , Spread fragrance through the dell . Let others crowd the giddy court Of mirth and revelry , The simple joys that nature yields Are dearer far to me . XXXVII . O ...
... leaves , The foxglove shuts its bell , The honey - suckle and the birk , Spread fragrance through the dell . Let others crowd the giddy court Of mirth and revelry , The simple joys that nature yields Are dearer far to me . XXXVII . O ...
Página 65
... leaves us , at eve , on the bleak shore alone ! Ne'er tell me of glories , serenely adorning The close of our day , the calm of our night ; - Give me back , give me back the mild freshness of morning , Her clouds and her tears are worth ...
... leaves us , at eve , on the bleak shore alone ! Ne'er tell me of glories , serenely adorning The close of our day , the calm of our night ; - Give me back , give me back the mild freshness of morning , Her clouds and her tears are worth ...
Página 76
... leaves a glow behind That lightens o'er the heart , LII . NOW SPRING HAS CLAD THE GROVE IN GREEN . AIR . - The hopeless lover . Now Spring has clad the grove in green , And strew'd the lea with flowers ; The furrow'd waving corn is seen ...
... leaves a glow behind That lightens o'er the heart , LII . NOW SPRING HAS CLAD THE GROVE IN GREEN . AIR . - The hopeless lover . Now Spring has clad the grove in green , And strew'd the lea with flowers ; The furrow'd waving corn is seen ...
Página 83
... leave thy native grove , And fly , to bring my soul relief , To where my warmest wishes rove ; Soft as the cooings of the dove , Thou❜lt sing thy sweetest , saddest lay , And melt to pity and to love , The bonny maid of Alderney . Well ...
... leave thy native grove , And fly , to bring my soul relief , To where my warmest wishes rove ; Soft as the cooings of the dove , Thou❜lt sing thy sweetest , saddest lay , And melt to pity and to love , The bonny maid of Alderney . Well ...
Página 86
... leaving our readers to judge for themselves . A London Magazine , for the Month of August 1770 , contains the following minute detail . " A young gentleman in Ireland , on the point of marrying a lady there , to whom he had been for ...
... leaving our readers to judge for themselves . A London Magazine , for the Month of August 1770 , contains the following minute detail . " A young gentleman in Ireland , on the point of marrying a lady there , to whom he had been for ...
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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...