English Songs and BalladsThomas William Hodgson Crosland |
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Page x
... Death was a rare old fellow , Lassie wi ' the lint - white locks , Lawn as white as driven snow , 235 · 123 312 238 347 • 187 139 345 • 280 185 85 Lay a garland on my hearse , . Let me the canakin clink , clink , Let the bells ring ...
... Death was a rare old fellow , Lassie wi ' the lint - white locks , Lawn as white as driven snow , 235 · 123 312 238 347 • 187 139 345 • 280 185 85 Lay a garland on my hearse , . Let me the canakin clink , clink , Let the bells ring ...
Page 2
... Death in time doth change It to a clod of clay ; Whenas the mind , which is divine , Runs never to decay . Companion none is like Unto the mind alone ; For many have been harmed by speech ; Through thinking , few , or none . Fear ...
... Death in time doth change It to a clod of clay ; Whenas the mind , which is divine , Runs never to decay . Companion none is like Unto the mind alone ; For many have been harmed by speech ; Through thinking , few , or none . Fear ...
Page 10
... DEATH THE LEVELLER JAMES SHIRLEY THE glories of our blood and state Are shadows , not substantial things ; There is no armour against fate ; Death lays his icy hand on kings : Sceptre and Crown Must tumble down , And in the dust be ...
... DEATH THE LEVELLER JAMES SHIRLEY THE glories of our blood and state Are shadows , not substantial things ; There is no armour against fate ; Death lays his icy hand on kings : Sceptre and Crown Must tumble down , And in the dust be ...
Page 11
... death . The garlands wither on your brow ; Then boast no more your mighty deeds ; Upon Death's purple altar now See where the victor - victim bleeds : Your heads must come To the cold tomb ; Only the actions of the just Smell sweet ...
... death . The garlands wither on your brow ; Then boast no more your mighty deeds ; Upon Death's purple altar now See where the victor - victim bleeds : Your heads must come To the cold tomb ; Only the actions of the just Smell sweet ...
Page 19
... death a hideous storm of terror . Strew your hair with powders sweet , Don clean linen , bathe your feet , And the foul fiend more to check- A crucifix let bless your neck ; ' Tis now full tide ' tween night and day ; End your groan and ...
... death a hideous storm of terror . Strew your hair with powders sweet , Don clean linen , bathe your feet , And the foul fiend more to check- A crucifix let bless your neck ; ' Tis now full tide ' tween night and day ; End your groan and ...
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Common terms and phrases
Agincourt Allan Water Allen-a-Dale auld auld lang syne beauty birds blood blow bonny Braes of Yarrow brave bride bright busk Camelot cheer dead dear death doth dream Earl eyes fair father fear flowers frae gallant gold gone grave green Greensleeves hand hath hear heard heart Hearts of oak heaven heir of Linne High trolollie Inchcape Rock John king kiss Lady of Shalott land lassie light live looked Lord loud luve maid Mariner merry moon morning mother Nanie ne'er never night noble Nut-brown Maid o'er Oriana pale poor pray pretty Bessee quoth rose round sails ship sigh sing Sir Patrick Spens slain sleep song sorrow soul spake stood stormy sweet tears tell thee There's thine thou thro Twas unto Vicar of Bray waves weary weep wife wild wind wood wooing o't young
Popular passages
Page 214 - It ceased; yet still the sails made on A pleasant noise till noon, A noise like of a hidden brook In the leafy month of June, That to the sleeping woods all night Singeth a quiet tune.
Page 206 - Nor any drop to drink. The very deep did rot: O Christ! That ever this should be! Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs Upon the slimy sea.
Page 331 - The splendor falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story : The long light shakes across the lakes, And the •wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Page 176 - TIGER! Tiger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand dare seize the fire? And what shoulder, and what art, Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand? and what dread feet?
Page 245 - Twere better by far, To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar." One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, When they reached the hall-door, and the charger stood near: So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung, So light to the saddle before her he sprung! "She is won! we are gone! over bank, bush, and scaur; They'll have fleet steeds that follow,
Page 211 - Oh sleep! it is a gentle thing, Beloved from pole to pole! To Mary Queen the praise be given! She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven, That slid into my soul.
Page 245 - mong Graemes of the Netherby clan ; Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran : There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lee, But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see. So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?
Page 204 - Was tyrannous and strong: He struck with his o'ertaking wings, And chased us south along. With sloping masts and dipping prow, As who pursued with yell and blow Still treads the shadow of his foe, And forward bends his head, The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast, And southward aye we fled. And now there came both mist and snow, And it grew wondrous cold; And ice, mast-high, came floating by, As green as emerald...
Page 332 - Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. O, hark, O, hear! how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going! O, sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying, Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. O love, they die in yon rich sky, They faint on hill or field or river; Our echoes roll from soul to soul, And grow for ever and for ever. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, And answer, echoes,...
Page 283 - I arise from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night When the winds are breathing low, And the stars are shining bright...