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 RenfrewshireWilliam Motherwell Alex. Gardner., 1872 - 454 страници |
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Страница xlii
... deep feeling . On the whole , we believe his poetical character to have been over - rated , and that sympathy for his fate has so associated itself in our minds with his many excellences that while we endeavour to estimate his merits as ...
... deep feeling . On the whole , we believe his poetical character to have been over - rated , and that sympathy for his fate has so associated itself in our minds with his many excellences that while we endeavour to estimate his merits as ...
Страница lii
... deep incision , and the same being suffused with a mortal poison , which the wolf had been accustomed to imbibe from the black waters of the well of " Dule and Deid , " the wound proves fatal , for the knight shortly afterwards dies in ...
... deep incision , and the same being suffused with a mortal poison , which the wolf had been accustomed to imbibe from the black waters of the well of " Dule and Deid , " the wound proves fatal , for the knight shortly afterwards dies in ...
Страница 33
... deep sorrow's tear , To wither amid the shades of night . Hope fled from the cheek of roseate hue , And the lily pale now languish'd there , And dim look'd the eye , of heavenly blue , Of the lovely Mary of Buttermere . For there was a ...
... deep sorrow's tear , To wither amid the shades of night . Hope fled from the cheek of roseate hue , And the lily pale now languish'd there , And dim look'd the eye , of heavenly blue , Of the lovely Mary of Buttermere . For there was a ...
Страница 73
... deep his bosom wrung , Silence was on the noble tongue ; Then writh'd the lip the final throe That free'd the struggling soul below . * The manuscript journal of a late traveller in Egypt furnished this short but expressive dirge ...
... deep his bosom wrung , Silence was on the noble tongue ; Then writh'd the lip the final throe That free'd the struggling soul below . * The manuscript journal of a late traveller in Egypt furnished this short but expressive dirge ...
Страница 74
... deep and regular ; and as the long procession moved slowly away into the desert with their diminishing forms and fading chorus , they gave us the idea of a train solemnly passing into the shades of eternity . The present translation of ...
... deep and regular ; and as the long procession moved slowly away into the desert with their diminishing forms and fading chorus , they gave us the idea of a train solemnly passing into the shades of eternity . The present translation of ...
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Често срещани думи и фрази
Arthurlie Bard beauty blaw bloom blythe bonny lassie bonny Peggy bosom bower brae breast breath bright Buttermere Camoens cauld charms cheek dear death delight Dunblane e'en e'er Ellen fair father fled flower frae Francis Sempill gane genius glow gude hame happy heart heaven hidder hope ilka Jean Adam Jessie John John Sim lady lass life's lo'e lov'd maid Mary maun morning nae mair native ne'er never night o'er pleasure poem poet poetical poor R. A. Smith Renfrewshire Robert Sempill Robert Tannahill rose round scene Scotish Scotland Sempill sigh sing sleep smile song sorrow soul sung sweet sweetly Tannahill tear thair thee there's thine Thomas Moore thou Tralee tree Twas wander warl wave weary weel weep wild Willy winds wyllowe yon burn side young Jessie youth
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Страница 324 - 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.
Страница lxxvii - 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...
Страница 271 - 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, —...
Страница 372 - 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.
Страница 382 - 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 ; 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.
Страница lxxvi - 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.
Страница 380 - With coral clasps and amber studs ; And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me and be my love.
Страница lxxv - 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. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning ; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast...
Страница 256 - Dream of battled fields no more, Days of danger, nights of waking. . In our isle's enchanted hall, Hands unseen thy couch are strewing, Fairy strains of music fall, Every sense in slumber dewing; Soldier, rest ! thy warfare o'er, Dream of fighting fields no more ; Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, Morn of toil, nor night of waking.
Страница 380 - Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks By shallow rivers, to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals. And I will make thee beds of roses, And a thousand fragrant posies...