The Scottish Songs, المجلد 11829 |
من داخل الكتاب
النتائج 1-5 من 47
الصفحة 7
... o'er muckle ; -mair delyte She'd given clad wi ' naething . We lean'd upon a flowery brae , By which a burnie trotted ; On her I glowr'd my soul away , While on her sweets I doated . A thousand beauties of desert Before had scarce alarm ...
... o'er muckle ; -mair delyte She'd given clad wi ' naething . We lean'd upon a flowery brae , By which a burnie trotted ; On her I glowr'd my soul away , While on her sweets I doated . A thousand beauties of desert Before had scarce alarm ...
الصفحة 13
... o'er the moorland whistles shrill ; Wi ' wild , unequal , wandering step , I meet him on the dewy hill . And when the lark , ' tween light and dark , Blithe waukens by the daisy's side , B And mounts and sings on fluttering wings , A woe ...
... o'er the moorland whistles shrill ; Wi ' wild , unequal , wandering step , I meet him on the dewy hill . And when the lark , ' tween light and dark , Blithe waukens by the daisy's side , B And mounts and sings on fluttering wings , A woe ...
الصفحة 22
... o'er us for a curse , And we have done wi ' thriving . A foreign Whiggish loon bought seeds , In Scottish yird to cover ; But we'll pu ' a ' his dibbled leeks , And pack him to Hanover . Our ancient crown's fa'n i̇ ' the dust , Deil ...
... o'er us for a curse , And we have done wi ' thriving . A foreign Whiggish loon bought seeds , In Scottish yird to cover ; But we'll pu ' a ' his dibbled leeks , And pack him to Hanover . Our ancient crown's fa'n i̇ ' the dust , Deil ...
الصفحة 24
... o'er the sons of light ; And by that hieroglyphic bright , Which none but craftsmen ever saw ! Strong memory on my heart shall write Those happy scenes when far awa ! May freedom , harmony , and love , Ünite you in the grand design ...
... o'er the sons of light ; And by that hieroglyphic bright , Which none but craftsmen ever saw ! Strong memory on my heart shall write Those happy scenes when far awa ! May freedom , harmony , and love , Ünite you in the grand design ...
الصفحة 27
... , As the breeze flew o'er me : From the Tea - Table Miscellany , 1724 . † " Liggeram cosh , " is the Highland name of the tune more commonly known by the title of " The Quaker's Wife . " Now nae langer sport and play , Mirth or sang 27.
... , As the breeze flew o'er me : From the Tea - Table Miscellany , 1724 . † " Liggeram cosh , " is the Highland name of the tune more commonly known by the title of " The Quaker's Wife . " Now nae langer sport and play , Mirth or sang 27.
طبعات أخرى - عرض جميع المقتطفات
عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
ain true love Allan water amang auld baith ballad baloo banks beautiful Birks of Aberfeldy blythe boatie rows bonnie lassie braes braw bride BURNS canna cauld Complaynt of Scotland dance dear dearie Donald Macgillavry doun e'en e'er Edinburgh fair Farewell flowers frae gane gang Gilderoy glen green gude gudeman gudewife hame heart Herd's Collection Highland Highland laddie hills ilka Jacobite Jenny John Tod Johnnie king kiss laddie lady laird lass lo'e Lochaber lover maun merry mony nae mair nane ne'er never o'er ower padda Pinkie House puir Ramsay Rob Morris sang Scotland Scots Scots Musical Museum Scottish song sing sung sweet Tea-Table Miscellany thee There's thou toun tune TUNE-The verses wadna weel Whigs wife Willie ye're yestreen young
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 19 - I'll wage thee! Who shall say that Fortune grieves him While the star of hope she leaves him? Me, nae cheerfu' twinkle lights me, Dark despair around benights me. I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy; Naething could resist my Nancy; But to see her was to love her, Love but her, and love for ever. Had we never loved sae kindly, Had we never loved sae blindly, Never met - or never parted, We had ne'er been broken-hearted.
الصفحة 290 - Mary ! dear departed shade ! Where is thy place of blissful rest-? Seest thou thy lover lowly laid ? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast ? That sacred hour can I forget, Can I forget the hallowed grove, Where by the winding Ayr we met, To live one day of parting love...
الصفحة 234 - But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see. So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?
الصفحة 155 - A man's a man for a' that. For a' that, and a' that, Their tinsel show, and a' that; The honest man, though e'er sae poor, Is king o' men for a' that. Ye see yon birkie ca'da lord, Wha struts, and stares, and a' that — Though hundreds worship at his word, He's but a coof for a' that ; For a* that, and a' that, His riband, star, and a' that; The man of independent mind, He looks and laughs at a
الصفحة 14 - A weary lot is thine, fair maid, A weary lot is thine ! To pull the thorn thy brow to braid, And press the rue for wine ! A lightsome eye, a soldier's mien, A feather of the blue, A doublet of the Lincoln green, — No more of me you knew, My love ! No more of me you knew. " This morn is merry June, I trow, The rose is budding fain ;* But she shall bloom in winter snow, Ere we two meet again.
الصفحة 234 - I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied; — Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide,- And now am I come, with this lost love of mine, To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar.
الصفحة 82 - Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides, And winds by the cot where my Mary resides; How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave, As gathering sweet flowerets she stems thy clear wave.
الصفحة 288 - Ye banks and braes and streams around The castle o' Montgomery, Green be your woods, and fair your flowers, Your waters never drumlie ! There simmer first unfauld her robes, And there the langest tarry ; For there I took the last fareweel O
الصفحة liv - At the end of the seventeenth and the beginning of the eighteenth century...
الصفحة 289 - Thou ling'ring star, with less'ning ray, That lov'st to greet the early morn, Again thou usher'st in the day My Mary from my soul was torn. O Mary! dear departed shade! Where is thy place of blissful rest? Seest thou thy lover lowly laid? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?