The songs and ballads of Cumberland, to which are added dialect and other poems, with notes, ed. by Sidney Gilpin, Issue 700, Volume 2George Coward (of Carlisle) 1874 |
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agean amang Anderson anudder auld bairns ballads beath bonny brong Brougham Castle Carel Carlisle cauld caw'd cried Croglin Cumberland Cummerlan cwoat de'il deevil deil Dick e'en e'er fadder fair feace frae furst fwok gang geane Granny Bell Gwordie hawf heame heart Hethersgill Jenny JOHN PEEL JOHN RAYSON JOHN WOODCOCK GRAVES Johnny Brown Jwohnie kurk lasses lassie luik luik'd luive Mark Lonsdale Matthew Macree meade meks monie mudder munnet nae mair ne'er neame neet neist niver nobbet nowte onie owre peer reet Sadler's Sally Gray sing songs suin sweetheart t'em t'ou tell thee There's thou thowt thro Tom Linton tuik turn'd Twas twea varra wark warl watter weel whea whoar whope whum widout wife wrang Wully Yeddy yence young
Popular passages
Page 202 - My eyes are dim with childish tears, My heart is idly stirred, For the same sound is in my ears Which in those days I heard. Thus fares it still in our decay : And yet the wiser mind Mourns less for what age takes away Than what it leaves behind.
Page 198 - What ails thee, young one ? what ? Why pull so at thy cord ? Is it not well with thee ? well both for bed and board ? Thy plot of grass is soft, and green as grass can be; Rest, little young one, rest; what is't that aileth thee ? "What is it thou would'st seek?
Page 193 - OFT I had heard of Lucy Gray : And, when I crossed the wild, I chanced to see at break of day The solitary child. No mate, no comrade Lucy knew; She dwelt on a wide moor, — The sweetest thing that ever grew Beside a human door ! You yet may spy the fawn at play, The hare upon the green; But the sweet face of Lucy Gray Will never more be seen. 'To-night will be a stormy night — You to the town must go; And take a lantern, Child, to light Your mother through the snow.
Page 197 - THE dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink ; I heard a voice ; it said, " Drink, pretty Creature, drink ! " And, looking o'er the hedge, before me I espied A snow-white mountain Lamb with a Maiden at its side. No other sheep were near, the Lamb was all alone, And by a slender cord was tethered to a stone ; With one knee on the grass did the little Maiden kneel, While to that mountain Lamb she gave its evening meal.
Page 207 - The cock is crowing, The stream is flowing, The small birds twitter, The lake doth glitter, The green field sleeps in the sun; The oldest and youngest Are at work with the strongest; The cattle are grazing, Their heads never raising; There are forty feeding like one! Like an army defeated The Snow hath retreated, And now doth fare ill On the top of the bare hill...
Page 200 - Here thou need'st not dread the raven in the sky; Night and day thou art safe, — our cottage is hard by. Why bleat so after me? Why pull so at thy chain? Sleep — and at break of day I will come to thee again...
Page 201 - We lay beneath a spreading oak, Beside a mossy seat ; And from the turf a fountain broke, And gurgled at our feet.
Page 205 - I have heard, 1 hear thee and rejoice: 0 Cuckoo ! shall I call thee bird, Or but a wandering Voice ? While I am lying on the grass Thy twofold shout I hear ; From hill to hill it seems to pass, At once far off and near. Though babbling only to the vale Of sunshine and of flowers, Thou bringest unto me a tale Of visionary hours. Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring ! Even yet thou art to me No...
Page 206 - The same whom in my schoolboy days 1 listened to ; that Cry Which made me look a thousand ways In bush, and tree, and sky. To seek thee did I often rove Through woods and on the green ; And thou wert still a hope, a love — Still longed for, never seen. And I can listen to thee yet ; Can lie upon the plain And listen, till I do beget That golden time again. O blessed Bird ! the earth we pace Again appears to be An unsubstantial, faery place : That is fit home for thee ! William Wordsworth.
Page 196 - And by the long stone-wall ; And then an open field they crossed : The marks were still the same ; They tracked them on, nor ever lost ; And to the bridge they came. They followed from the snowy bank Those footmarks, one by one, Into the middle of the plank ; And further there were none ! — Yet some maintain that to this day She is a living child ; That you may see sweet Lucy Gray Upon the lonesome wild. O'er rough and smooth she trips along, And never looks behind ; And sings a solitary song That...