The Songs of Scotland Chronologically Arranged: With Introduction and NotesAlison & Ross, 1872 - Всего страниц: 583 |
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Стр. vii
... laddie and a lassie fair A lass that was laden with care A lassie cam ' to our gate yestreen A rose bud by my early walk ... A soldier for gallant achievements renown'd A Southland Jenny , that was right bonnie A steed , a steed , of ...
... laddie and a lassie fair A lass that was laden with care A lassie cam ' to our gate yestreen A rose bud by my early walk ... A soldier for gallant achievements renown'd A Southland Jenny , that was right bonnie A steed , a steed , of ...
Стр. xi
... laddie but ane ... I loved thee once , I love thee no more I mark'd a gem o ' pearly dew I married wi ' a scolding wife I may sit in my wee croo - house I wadna ' gie my ain wife I was ance a weel tochered lass I will awa ' wi ' my love ...
... laddie but ane ... I loved thee once , I love thee no more I mark'd a gem o ' pearly dew I married wi ' a scolding wife I may sit in my wee croo - house I wadna ' gie my ain wife I was ance a weel tochered lass I will awa ' wi ' my love ...
Стр. xiii
... laddie is gane far away o'er the plain My heart is sair , I daurna tell My heart is sair , I daurna tell My love come let us wander My love's in Germany My love she's but a lassie yet My love she's but a lassie yet My love was born in ...
... laddie is gane far away o'er the plain My heart is sair , I daurna tell My heart is sair , I daurna tell My love come let us wander My love's in Germany My love she's but a lassie yet My love she's but a lassie yet My love was born in ...
Стр. xiv
... laddie gone O why should old age so much wound us , O O wilt thou go wi ' me , sweet Tibbie Dunbar Och hey Johnnie lad ... October winds wi ' biting breath Of a ' the airts the wind can blaw Of all the days that's in the year Oh aye my ...
... laddie gone O why should old age so much wound us , O O wilt thou go wi ' me , sweet Tibbie Dunbar Och hey Johnnie lad ... October winds wi ' biting breath Of a ' the airts the wind can blaw Of all the days that's in the year Oh aye my ...
Стр. xvii
... laddie sat down on yon brae The youth that should hae been our King Their groves of sweet myrtle let foreign lands reckon There are twa bonnie maidens ... There cam a braw lad to my daddie's door There dwelt a man into the west ... 600 ...
... laddie sat down on yon brae The youth that should hae been our King Their groves of sweet myrtle let foreign lands reckon There are twa bonnie maidens ... There cam a braw lad to my daddie's door There dwelt a man into the west ... 600 ...
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Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
aboon ALLAN CUNNINGHAM ALLAN RAMSAY amang auld bairns baith bawbee blaw blythe bonnet bonnie lassie bosom braes braw canna cauld Charlie charms dear dinna Donald e'en e'er Edinburgh fair Farewell flowers frae gane gang gear Geordie gi'e glen green gude gudeman ha'e hame heart HERD'S COLLECTION Highland laddie hills ilka JAMES HOGG Jamie Jenny John Tod Johnnie Johnnie Cope king kiss lady laird lass lo'e luve Maggie Mary maun mither mony morning nae mair naething nane ne'er never night o'er ower owre plaid Rob Roy Macgregor ROBERT BURNS ROBERT TANNAHILL sang Scotland Scottish siller sing smile song sweet syne tears thee There's thine thou wadna weel Whigs wife WILLIAM MOTHERWELL Willie winna Yarrow ye'll ye're yestreen young
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Стр. 446 - A wet sheet and a flowing sea, A wind that follows fast, And fills the white and rustling sail, And bends the gallant mast; And bends the gallant mast, my boys, While, like the eagle free, Away the good ship flies, and leaves Old England on the lee. O for a soft and gentle wind!
Стр. 388 - Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er, Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking; Dream of battled fields no more, Days of danger, nights of waking. In our isle's enchanted hall, Hands unseen thy couch are strewing, Fairy strains of music fall, Every sense in slumber dewing. Soldier, rest l thy warfare o'er, Dream of fighting fields no more: Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, Morn of toil, nor night of waking.
Стр. 238 - Wha will be a traitor knave? Wha can fill a coward's grave? Wha sae base as be a slave? Let him turn and flee! Wha for Scotland's king and law Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Freeman stand, or freeman fa?
Стр. 205 - O'erhung with wild woods, thickening, green, The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar, Twin'd amorous round the raptured scene. " The flowers sprang wanton to be prest, The birds sang love on every spray, Till too, too soon, the glowing west Proclaim'd the speed of winged day!
Стр. 386 - He is gone on the mountain, He is lost to the forest, Like a summer-dried fountain, When our need was the sorest. The font, reappearing, From the rain-drops shall borrow, But to us comes no cheering, To Duncan no morrow ! The hand of the reaper Takes the ears that are hoary, But the voice of the weeper Wails manhood in glory. The autumn winds rushing Waft the leaves that are searest, But our flower was in flushing, When blighting was nearest.
Стр. 209 - And mony a hill between ; But, day and night, my fancy's flight Is ever wi' my Jean. I see her in the dewy flowers, I see her sweet and fair : I hear her in the tunefu...
Стр. 237 - THAT AND A' THAT" Is there, for honest Poverty, That hangs his head, and a' that! The coward slave, we pass him by, We dare be poor for a
Стр. 21 - I'll never love thee more. Like Alexander I will reign, And I will reign alone ; My thoughts did evermore disdain A rival on my throne : He either fears his fate too much, Or his deserts are small, That dares not put it to the touch To win or lose it all.
Стр. 212 - I'll pledge thee, Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee. Who shall say that fortune grieves him While the star of hope she leaves him ? Me, nae cheerfu' twinkle lights me, Dark despair around benights me. I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy, Naething could resist my Nancy ; But to see her was to love her, Love but her, and love for ever. Had we never lov'd sae kindly, Had we never lov'd sae blindly, Never met — or never parted, We had ne'er been broken-hearted.
Стр. 387 - A weary lot is thine, fair maid, A weary lot is thine ! To pull the thorn thy brow to braid, And press the rue for wine! A lightsome eye, a soldier's mien, A feather of the blue, A doublet of the Lincoln green, — No more of me you knew, My love!