Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, Zväzok 1

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A. & C. Black, 1873
 

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Strana 203 - 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.
Strana 361 - Now yield thee, yield thee, Percy," he said, " Or else I vow I'll lay thee low ! "— " To whom must I yield," quoth Earl Percy, " Now that I see it must be so...
Strana 301 - They hadna been a week, a week, In Noroway, but twae, When that the lords o' Noroway Began aloud to say, — ,* Ye Scottishmen spend a' our king's goud, And a
Strana 302 - Our gude ship sails the morn." " Now ever alake, my master dear, I fear a deadly storm ! " I saw the new moon, late yestreen, Wi' the auld moon in her arm ; And if we gang to sea, master, I fear we'll come to harm.
Strana 157 - I OFT have heard of Lydford law, How in the morn they hang and draw, And sit in judgment after : At first I wondered at it much ; But since I find the reason such, As it deserves no laughter.
Strana 300 - 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.
Strana 362 - But I would yield to Earl Douglas, Or Sir Hugh the Montgomery, if he were here." As soon as he knew it was Montgomery, He struck his sword's point in the gronde ; The Montgomery was a courteous knight, And quickly took him by the honde.
Strana 60 - And he has plunged in wi a' his band, And safely swam them thro 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!
Strana 55 - Where be ye gaun, ye hunters keen ? ' Quo' fause Sakelde ; ' come tell to me ! ' ' We go to hunt an English stag, Has trespass'd on the Scots countrie.
Strana 304 - 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' their goud kaims in their hair, A' waiting for their ain dear loves ! For them they 'll see na mair.

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