Rob of the bowl |
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added Albert amongst approached Arnold better Blanche boat bring brought Captain Chapel Cocklescraft comes command Coode council course Cripple dame dance Dauntrees door exclaimed face father father Pierre fire followed foot friends Garret gave give ground half hand hast hath head heard heart hold horse hour lady land laugh leave less light look Lord maiden Mary's Master Master Albert mind Mistress nature never night observation party person play port present Proprietary province ready replied returned river scarce Secretary seen shore short side Skipper soon speak spirit stand step stood sword tell thee thou thought tone took town turn Verheyden voice Warden Weasel whilst whole wife Willy young
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Page 19 - TELL me not, sweet, I am unkind, — That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field ; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you, too, shall adore ; I could not love thee, dear, so much. Loved I not honour more.
Page 1 - And desolation saddens all thy green : One only master grasps the whole domain, And half a tillage stints thy smiling plain.
Page 1 - And tires their echoes with unvaried cries. Sunk are thy bowers in shapeless ruin all, And the long grass o'ertops the mouldering wall; And trembling, shrinking from the spoiler's hand, Far, far away, thy children leave the land.
Page 223 - She turned her right and round about, And she swore by the mold, " I would not be your love," said she, " For that church full of gold.
Page 142 - Tobacco's a Musician, And in a pipe delighteth ; It descends in a close, Through the organs of the nose, With a relish that inviteth.
Page 110 - He scant had twenty seen. But who the countless charms can draw, That grac'd his mistress true ; Such charms the old world seldom saw, Nor oft I ween the new. Her raven hair plays round her neck, Like tendrils of the vine ; Her cheeks red dewy rose buds deck, Her eyes like diamonds shine.
Page 244 - A Ranger, lady, winds his horn, And 'tis at peep of light; His blast is heard at merry morn, And mine at dead of night.
Page 110 - An old song, made by an aged old pate, Of an old worshipful gentleman who had a great estate, That kept a brave old house at a bountiful rate, And an old porter to relieve the poor at his gate.
Page 124 - Which seemly was to see: A hood to that so neat and fine In colour like the columbine, Ywrought full featously. Her...
Page 244 - I list no more the tuck of drum, No more the trumpet hear ; But when the beetle sounds his hum My comrades take the spear.