« PredošláPokračovať »
'ENGLISH SONGS AND BALLADS' must not be regarded as 'a choice, but simply as bringing together of poetical pieces which are, presumably, well known to the average person,—that is to say, the compiler has endeavoured to illustrate the general taste rather than his own preference.
About the sweet bag of a bee,
A chieftain to the Highlands bound,
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever,
Ah, my swete swetyng, .
Alas! my love, you do me wrong,
Allen-a-Dale has no faggot for burning,
All in the Downs the fleet was moor'd,.
ye woods, and trees, and bowers,
And did you not hear of a jolly young Waterman,
An old song made by an aged old pate,.
A parrot from the Spanish main,
Arm, arm, arm, arm, the scouts are all come in,
A simple child,
As I came thro' Sandgate,
Ask me no more where Jove bestows,
Ask me no more, the moon may draw the sea,
A spirit haunts the year's last hours,
As thro' the land at eve we went, .
A sweet disorder in the dress,
Attend all ye who list to hear our noble England's
A weary lot is thine, fair maid,
A Well there is in the west country,
A wet sheet and a flowing sea,
Blame not my Lute! for he must sound,
Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
Blow high, blow low, let tempests tear,
Break, break, break,
Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny bonny bride,
But are ye sure the news is true,
Call for the robin-redbreast and the wren,
Cherry ripe, ripe, ripe, I cry,
Cold's the wind, and wet's the rain,
Come all ye jolly shepherds, .
Come, cheerful day, part of my life to me,
Come, cheer up, my lads, 'tis to glory we steer,
Come follow, follow me,
Come into the garden, Maud,
Come live with me and be my love,
Come not, when I am dead,
Come, Sleep, and with thy sweet deceiving, .
Faintly as tolls the evening chime,
Fair daffodils, we weep to see,
Fair pledges of a fruitful tree,
Fair stood the wind for France,
Fear no more the heat o' the sun,
Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea,
Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes,
Follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow,
For auld lang syne, my dear,
Four and twenty bonny boys,
From Oberon, in fairy land, .
From the forests and highlands,
From the white blossom'd sloe my dear Chloe
Full fathom five thy father lies,
Gather the rose-buds while ye may,
God Lyaeus, ever young,
God prosper long our noble King,
God save our gracious King, .
Go fetch to me a pint o' wine,
Go, lovely Rose,
Good-morrow to the day so fair,
Good people all, of every sort,
Go where glory waits thee,
Green fields of England, wheresoe'er,
Hame, hame, hame, hame fain wad I be,
Hang fear, cast away care,
Hark! now everything is still,
Hark, hark, the lark at Heaven's gate sings,
He is gone on the mountain, .
Her arms across her breast she laid,
Here, a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowling,
Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee,
Here's a health unto His Majesty,
Here's to the maiden of bashful fifteen,
Hide me, O twilight air,
Home they brought her warrior dead,
Ho! why dost thou shiver and shake,
How should I your true love know,
I arise from dreams of thee, .
I cannot eat but little meat,
I come from haunts of coot and hern,
I come, I come ! ye have called me long,
I knew an old wife lean and poor,
I lov'd a lass, a fair one,
I'm lonesome since I cross'd the hill,
I'm sitting on the stile, Mary,
In going to my naked bed,
In good King Charles's golden days,
In her ear he whispered gaily,
In the merry month of May, .
In Wakefield there lives a jolly pinder,
I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he,
Is there for honest poverty,