The Works of Walter Scott, Esq, Band 1

James Ballantyne and Company, 1806
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Seite 9 - Wi' the auld moon in her arm ; And if we gang to sea, master, I fear we'll come to harm." They hadna sailed a league, a league, A league but barely three, When the lift grew dark, and the wind blew loud, And gurly grew the sea. The anchors brak, and the top-masts lap, It was sic a deadly storm ; And the waves cam' o'er the broken ship, Till a
Seite 10 - To take the helm in hand, Till you go up to the tall topmast, But I fear you'll ne'er spy land.
Seite c - When in one night, ere glimpse of morn, His shadowy flail hath threshed the corn, That ten day-labourers could not end; Then lies him down, the lubber fiend, And, stretched out all the chimney's length, Basks at the fire his hairy strength; And crop-full out of doors he flings, Ere the first cock his matin rings.
Seite 8 - To send us out, at this time of the year, "To sail upon the sea? "Be it wind, be it weet, be it hail, be it sleet, "Our ship must sail the faem; "The king's daughter of Noroway, '"Tis we must fetch her hame...
Seite 6 - To sail this new ship of mine ?" , O up and spake an eldern knight, Sat at the king's right knee, — " Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor,
Seite 12 - A' for the sake of their true loves ; For them they'll see na mair. O lang, lang, may the ladyes sit, Wi' their fans into their hand, Before they see Sir Patrick Spens Come sailing to the strand ! And lang, lang, may the maidens sit, Wi...
Seite 11 - He hadna gane a step, a step, A step but barely ane, When a bout flew out of our goodly ship, And the salt sea it came in. " Gae, fetch a web o' the silken claith, " Another o' the twine, " And wap them into our ship's side,
Seite 7 - O whare will I get a skeely skipper, To sail this new ship of mine?' O up and spake an eldern knight, Sat at the King's right knee, 'Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor That ever sailed the sea.
Seite 197 - And he has plunged in wi' a' his band, And safely swam them through the stream. He turned him on the other side, And at Lord Scroope his glove flung he — "If ye like na my visit in merry England, In fair Scotland come visit me...
Seite 66 - Tis pleasant there to be ; But there is nought at Otterbourne, To feed my men and me. " The deer rins wild on hill and dale, The birds fly wild from tree to tree ; But there is neither bread nor kale, To fend my men and me.

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