Beauties of the Scottish poets, or Harp of Renfrewshire, a collection of songs and other poetical pieces, with notes, and a short essay on the poets of Renfrewshire [by W. Motherwell. Re-issue of the harp of Renfrewshire, with cancel title-leaf].1821 |
Im Buch
Ergebnisse 6-10 von 44
Seite 32
... as the brook that rippl'd along , Or the pearly drops of the morning dew . This song refers to the unfortunate Mary Robinson , better known by the name of Mary of Buttermere . It sweetly smil'd in its native bower , But a 32.
... as the brook that rippl'd along , Or the pearly drops of the morning dew . This song refers to the unfortunate Mary Robinson , better known by the name of Mary of Buttermere . It sweetly smil'd in its native bower , But a 32.
Seite 33
... morning clear , Rose on this gem so pure and bright , But saw it steep'd in 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 ...
... morning clear , Rose on this gem so pure and bright , But saw it steep'd in 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 ...
Seite 39
... morning dews . And maun I still on Menie doat ? And bear the scorn that's in her e'e ? For ' tis jet , jet black , and ' tis like a hawk , And it winna let a body be . In vain to me the cowslips blaw , In vain to me the vi'lets spring ...
... morning dews . And maun I still on Menie doat ? And bear the scorn that's in her e'e ? For ' tis jet , jet black , and ' tis like a hawk , And it winna let a body be . In vain to me the cowslips blaw , In vain to me the vi'lets spring ...
Seite 65
... morning ebbs from us , And leaves us , at eve , on the bleak shore alone ! Ne'er tell me of glories , serenely adorning The close of our day , the calm of our night ; - Give me back , give me back the mild freshness of morning , Her ...
... morning ebbs from us , And leaves us , at eve , on the bleak shore alone ! Ne'er tell me of glories , serenely adorning The close of our day , the calm of our night ; - Give me back , give me back the mild freshness of morning , Her ...
Seite 77
... morning's eye ; As little reckt I sorrow's power , Until the flowery snare Of witching love , in luckless hour , Made ine the thrall of care . O had my fate been Greenland snows , Or Afric's G 3 77 While ilka thing in nature join ...
... morning's eye ; As little reckt I sorrow's power , Until the flowery snare Of witching love , in luckless hour , Made ine the thrall of care . O had my fate been Greenland snows , Or Afric's G 3 77 While ilka thing in nature join ...
Andere Ausgaben - Alle anzeigen
Beauties of the Scottish Poets, Or Harp of Renfrewshire, a Collection of ... Scottish Poets,Renfrew County Keine Leseprobe verfügbar - 2016 |
Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
Alderney Arthurlie Bard beauty birken blaw bloom Blythely bonny lassie bonny Peggy bosom bower braes breast breath bright Buttermere cauld charms cheek dear death delight e'en e'er Ellen fair father flower frae Francis Sempill gane genius glow gude hame happy heart heaven ilka Jean Adam John Sim Johnny Katy lady lass little sweep lo'e lov'd lover maid Mary maun morning mourn nae mair native ne'er never night o'er owre Paisley peace pleasure poem poet poetical poor quhat R. A. Smith Renfrewshire Robert Sempill Robert Tannahill rose round Scotish Scotland Sempill sigh sing sleep smile song sorrow soul sung sweet sweetly Tannahill tear thair thee There's thine thou thro tree Twas wander warl wave weary weel weep wild Willy wind wyllowe yon burn side youth
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 336 - 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.
Seite 4 - 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.
Seite 283 - 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, —...
Seite 138 - She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps, And lovers around her are sighing; But coldly she turns from their gaze and weeps, For her heart in his grave is lying.
Seite 414 - With coral clasps and amber studs: And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me and be my love.
Seite 384 - 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.
Seite 273 - THE YOUNG MAY MOON. THE young May moon is beaming, love, The glow-worm's lamp is gleaming, love, How sweet to rove Through Morna's grove,* When the drowsy world is dreaming, love ! Then awake ! — the heavens look bright, my dear, 'Tis never too late for delight, my dear, And the best of all ways To lengthen our days Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear.
Seite 416 - The flowers do fade, and wanton fields To wayward Winter reckoning yields: 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...
Seite 3 - 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.
Seite 5 - 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...