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]. |
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Página ix
Although none of them have ever risen far above mediocrity , yet their
performances have been such , as to entitle their names to an honourable place
amongst the minor bards of Scotland , and to preserve them from the death of
total oblivion .
Although none of them have ever risen far above mediocrity , yet their
performances have been such , as to entitle their names to an honourable place
amongst the minor bards of Scotland , and to preserve them from the death of
total oblivion .
Página 12
The loud war trumpet woke the morn , The quivering drum , the pealing horn ,
From rank to rank the cry is borne , Arouse for death or victory ; The orb of day in
crimson dye , Began to mount the morning sky , Then what a scene for warrior ' s
...
The loud war trumpet woke the morn , The quivering drum , the pealing horn ,
From rank to rank the cry is borne , Arouse for death or victory ; The orb of day in
crimson dye , Began to mount the morning sky , Then what a scene for warrior ' s
...
Página 282
After a year ' s imprisonment he went into exile , but returned by favour of
Cromwell , on whom he wrote an elegant panegyric . He wrote another on the
death of the Protector , and afterwards celebrated the Restoration , and praised
Charles 11 ...
After a year ' s imprisonment he went into exile , but returned by favour of
Cromwell , on whom he wrote an elegant panegyric . He wrote another on the
death of the Protector , and afterwards celebrated the Restoration , and praised
Charles 11 ...
Página 291
The lady of Ellerslie wept for her lord , And the death - watch beat in her lonely
room , For the curtains had shook of their own accord , And the raven flapp ' d at
her window board , To tell of her warrior ' s doom . Now sing ye the death - song ...
The lady of Ellerslie wept for her lord , And the death - watch beat in her lonely
room , For the curtains had shook of their own accord , And the raven flapp ' d at
her window board , To tell of her warrior ' s doom . Now sing ye the death - song ...
Página 346
... could death part them . “ Bury me , neighbours , beside my old friend , ” were
the dying injunctions of the poor old shepherd . They indeed were friends , * “
William Browne , the author of this song 346 The old shepherd's dog, like his
master...
... could death part them . “ Bury me , neighbours , beside my old friend , ” were
the dying injunctions of the poor old shepherd . They indeed were friends , * “
William Browne , the author of this song 346 The old shepherd's dog, like his
master...
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Termos e frases comuns
appear beauty bonny bosom breast bright charms cheek cold dark dear death deep delight dream fair fate father fear feel flower frae give grave hand happy head hear heard heart heaven hills hope hour I'll John kind known lady land lassie leave light live look maid mair Mary meet mind morning mountain native nature ne'er never night o'er once peace piece pleasure poem poet poor present rest rise rose round scenes side sigh sing sleep smile song soon sorrow soul sound spirit sweet tear tell thee There's thing thou thought tree true Twas wander wave weary weel weep wild Willy wind written young youth
Passagens mais conhecidas
Página 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.
Página 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.
Página 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, —...
Página 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.
Página 414 - With coral clasps and amber studs: And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me and be my love.
Página 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.
Página 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.
Página 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...
Página 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.
Página 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...
Informações bibliográficas
| Título | 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]. |
| Autor | Renfrew county |
| Editor | William Motherwell |
| Colaborador | Scottish poets |
| Publicado | 1821 |
| Original de | Oxford University |
| Digitalizado | 26 set. 2006 |
| Exportar citação | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |