Lancashire Lyrics: Modern Songs and Ballads of the County PalatineJohn Harland Whittaker, 1866 - 320 من الصفحات |
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طبعات أخرى - عرض جميع المقتطفات
عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
a-be abeawt Aw know aw wur aw'd aw'll aw'm Aw're Aw've BALLAD beauty bless bloom blue bonny breast breath bright brow carrion crow CHARLES SWAIN charms cheek cheer childer coom cottage dark dear deawn Droylsden e'er eawr eawt EDWARD RUSHTON EDWIN WAUGH eyes fair feel flowers gazed Goosnargh happy hath heart heaven heaw heawse HENRY KIRK HORTON GROVES JOHN BYROM JOHN CRITCHLEY kiss Lancashire lass leet light lips loike Lord Derwentwater Lucy Neale maid maiden mother ne'er neaw neet never night nobbut nowt o'er pass'd reawnd reet Robin rose SAMUEL BAMFORD sigh sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul stars summer sweet tears tell thae theaw thee theer There's thine thou art toime towd tree Twas Twur wark We'n weel wheer whoam wife wild WILLIAM HARRISON AINSWORTH WILLIAM HOBSON young
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 264 - Be kind to each other, The night's coming on, When friend and when brother Perchance may be gone.
الصفحة 70 - Will no pitying power that hears me complain, Or cure my disquiet or soften my pain ? To be cured, thou must, Colin, thy passion remove ; But what swain is so silly to live without love ? No, deity, bid the dear nymph to return, For ne'er was poor shepherd so sadly forlorn. Ah ! what shall I do ? I shall die with despair ! Take heed, all ye swains, how ye love one so fair.
الصفحة 68 - I was so good-humoured, so cheerful and gay, My heart was as light as a feather all day : But now I so cross, and so peevish am grown, So strangely uneasy, as never was known. My fair one is gone, and my joys are all...
الصفحة 156 - Like home and friends around us ! The friends that speed in time of need, When hope's last reed is shaken, To show us still, that come what will, We are not quite forsaken : — Though all were night : if but the light Of friendship's altar crown'd us, 'Twould prove the bliss of earth was this — Our home and friends around us ! MUSIC FOE MACBETH.
الصفحة 271 - The intensely bright, the beautiful, the dead — Phantoms of heart and brain ! Looks from departed 'eyes — These are my lightnings!
الصفحة 276 - There slumber England's dead. The warlike of the isles, The men of field and wave ! Are not the rocks their funeral piles, The seas and shores their grave ? Go, stranger ! track the deep, Free, free the white sail spread ! Wave may not foam, nor wild wind sweep, Where rest not England's dead.
الصفحة 67 - I went ; Ten thousand sweet Pleasures I felt in my Breast : Sure never fond Shepherd like Colin was blest ! But now she is gone, and has left me behind, What a marvellous Change on a sudden I find ! When Things were as fine as could possibly be, I thought 'twas the Spring ; but alas ! it was she.
الصفحة 68 - My dog I was ever well pleased to see Come wagging his tail to my Fair One and me; And Phebe was pleased too, and to my dog said, 'Come hither, poor fellow,' and patted his head. . But now, when he's fawning, I with a sour look, Cry. 'Sirrah!
الصفحة 147 - HOME'S not merely four square walls, Though with pictures hung and gilded ; Home is where affection calls, — Fill'd with shrines the heart hath builded...
الصفحة 68 - twas music to hear. But now she is absent, I walk by its side, And still, as it murmurs, do nothing but chide; 'Must you be so cheerful, while I go in pain ? Peace there, with your bubbling, and hear me complain!