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Страница 217 - How could you say my face was fair, And yet that face forsake? How could you win my virgin heart, Yet leave that heart to break?
Страница 249 - Her een were bonny blue ; Her looks were like Aurora bright, Her lips like dropping dew. As down the burn they took their way, What tender tales they...
Страница 58 - In saying so, the pearled tears Fell trickling from her princely eyes, Whereat his gentle queen he cheers, And says, " Stand up, sweet lady, rise! The lives of them I freely give, No means this kindness shall debar, Thou hast thy boon, and they may live To serve me in my Boulogne war.
Страница 188 - A man might then behold , At Christmas, in each hall Good fires to curb the cold, And meat for great and small. The neighbours were friendly bidden, And all had welcome true, The poor from the gates were not chidden, When this old cap was new.
Страница 239 - THE LASS OF PATIE'S MILL.(i) THE lass of Patie's mill, So bonny, blyth, and gay, In spite of all my skill, She stole my heart away. When tedding of the hay, Bare-headed on the green, Love 'midst her locks did play, And wanton'd in her een. Her arms white, round, and smooth, Breasts rising in their dawn, To age it would give youth To press 'em with his hand : Thro' all my spirits ran An extasy of bliss, When I such sweetness fand Wrapt in a balmy kiss.
Страница 189 - We wanted no brawn nor souse. When this old cap was new. We took not such delight In cups of silver fine : None under the degree of a knight In plate drank beer or wine : Now each mechanical man Hath a cupboard of plate for a show ; Which was a rare thing then, When this old cap was new.
Страница 241 - And thought I ne'er could alter ; But Mary Gray's twa pawky een, They gar my fancy falter. Now Bessy's hair's like a lint-tap ; She smiles like a May morning, When Phoebus starts frae Thetis...
Страница 258 - Fu' snug in a glen, where nane cou'd see, The twa, with kindly sport and glee, Cut frae a new cheese a whang : The priving was good, it pleas'd them baith, To lo'e her for ay, he gae her his aith. Quo' she, to leave thee I will be laith, My winsome Gaberlunzie-man. O kend my minny I were wi' you, Hl-fardly wad she crook her mou', Sic a poor man she'd never trow, After the Gaberlunzie-man.