Sir Walter Scott's Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, Volumen1

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W. Blackwood and sons, 1902 - 2 páginas

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Página 150 - When in one night, ere glimpse of morn, His shadowy flail hath threshed the corn, That ten day-labourers could not end; Then lies him down, the lubber fiend, And, stretched out all the chimney's length, Basks at the fire his hairy strength; And crop-full out of doors he flings, Ere the first cock his matin rings.
Página 112 - I OFT have heard of Lydford law, How in the morn they hang and draw, And sit in judgment after : At first I wondered at it much; But since I find the reason such, As it deserves no laughter.
Página 229 - Our gude ship sails the morn." " Now ever alake, my master dear, I fear a deadly storm ! " I saw the new moon, late yestreen, Wi' the auld moon in her arm ; And if we gang to sea, master, I fear we'll come to harm.
Página 303 - And he that had a bonnie boy, Sent out his horse to grass, And he that had not a bonnie boy, His ain servant he was. But up then spake a little page, Before the peep of dawn: 'O waken ye, waken ye, my good lord, For Percy's hard at hand.
Página 162 - ... in a cabin under his mantle, but used commonly to keep others waking to defend their lives, and did light his candle at the flames of their houses, to lead him in the...
Página 231 - The ladyes wrang their fingers white, The maidens tore their hair, A for the sake of their true loves, For them they'll see na mair. O lang, lang may the ladyes sit, Wi' their fans into their hand, Before they see Sir Patrick Spens Come sailing to the strand!
Página 229 - O where will I get a gude sailor, To take my helm in hand, Till I get up to the tall topmast, To see if I can spy land?' 'O here am I, a sailor gude, To take the helm in hand, Till you go up to the tall topmast, But I fear you'll ne'er spy land.
Página 359 - John wore a girdle about his middle Imbroider'd ower wi' burning gold, Bespangled wi' the same metal, Maist beautiful was to behold. There hang nine targats1 at Johnie's hat, And ilk ane worth three hundred pound — " What wants that knave that a King suld have But the sword of honour and the crown ? " O where got thou these targats, Johnie, That blink sae brawly abune thy brie?
Página 231 - A' for the sake of their true loves ; For them they'll see nae mair. O lang, lang, may the ladyes sit, Wi' their fans into their hand, Before they see Sir Patrick Spens Come sailing to the strand ! And lang, lang, may the maidens sit, Wi' their goud kaims in their hair, A' waiting for their ain dear loves ! For them they'll see nae mair.
Página 294 - They steep'd their hose and shoon ; The Lindsays flew like fire about, Till all the fray was done.

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