The Pictorial Book of Ancient Ballad Poetry of Great Britain: Historical, Traditional and Romantic: to which are Added, a Selection of Modern Imitations and Some TranslationsJoseph S. Moore H. Washbourne & Company, 1853 - 871 стор. |
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Сторінка 1
... quoth Rychard Sheale : whom Hearne had so little judgment as to suppose to be the same with a R. Sheale , who was living in 1588. But whoever examines the gradation of language and idiom in the following volumes , will be convinced that ...
... quoth Rychard Sheale : whom Hearne had so little judgment as to suppose to be the same with a R. Sheale , who was living in 1588. But whoever examines the gradation of language and idiom in the following volumes , will be convinced that ...
Сторінка 10
... deles An eccho shrill did make . Lord Percy to the quarry went , To view the slaughterd deere ; Quoth he , Erle Douglas promised This day to meet me heere : But if I thought he wold not come , Noe 10 17 CHEVY - CHASE .
... deles An eccho shrill did make . Lord Percy to the quarry went , To view the slaughterd deere ; Quoth he , Erle Douglas promised This day to meet me heere : But if I thought he wold not come , Noe 10 17 CHEVY - CHASE .
Сторінка 13
... quoth Erle Percy then , Thy proffer I doe scorne ; I will not yeelde to any Scott That ever yett was borne . With that there came an arrow keene Out of an English bow , Which strucke Erle Douglas to the heart , A deep and deadlye blow ...
... quoth Erle Percy then , Thy proffer I doe scorne ; I will not yeelde to any Scott That ever yett was borne . With that there came an arrow keene Out of an English bow , Which strucke Erle Douglas to the heart , A deep and deadlye blow ...
Сторінка 85
... quoth John , As the wind blowes ore the hill ; For if itt be never so loude this night , To - morrow it may be still . Buske yee , bowne yee , my merry men all , And John shall goe with mee , For Ile goe seeke yond wight yeomen , In ...
... quoth John , As the wind blowes ore the hill ; For if itt be never so loude this night , To - morrow it may be still . Buske yee , bowne yee , my merry men all , And John shall goe with mee , For Ile goe seeke yond wight yeomen , In ...
Сторінка 86
... quoth John , With Christ his might and mayne ; Ile make yond fellow that flyes soe fast , To stopp he shall be fayne . Then John bent up his long bende - bowe , And fetteled him to shoote : The bow was made of tender boughe , And fell ...
... quoth John , With Christ his might and mayne ; Ile make yond fellow that flyes soe fast , To stopp he shall be fayne . Then John bent up his long bende - bowe , And fetteled him to shoote : The bow was made of tender boughe , And fell ...
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The Pictorial Book of Ancient Ballad Poetry of Great Britain, Historical ... J. S. Moore Повний перегляд - 1853 |
Загальні терміни та фрази
Adam Bell ancient awaye ballad blood bold bonnie green woods bower brave bride bright castle Catskin Childe Maurice Colonsay daughter daye dear doth Ettricke Foreste fair fast father fayre fear fell fight frae gold grene wode grete hand hast hath heard heart heire of Linne holy horse king knight kynge lady ladye land Little John litulle lord loud Lytell Johan maid maun merry monke myght ne'er never noble o'er Percy Percy Society pray pretty Bessee queen quoth Robin Hood Robyn Hode sayd Robyn saye Scadlock Scotland seyde shee sheryf Sir Aldingar slain song soon sore spake steed stood sweet sword tears tell thee ther theyr thou art thou shalt thre tree Twas unto Whan wolde woods of Killeevy words wyfe wyll wyth yemen young young Beichan
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Сторінка 693 - their rich attire; Blue, glossy green, and velvet black, They coiled and swam; and every track Was a flash of golden fire. O happy living things! no tongue Their beauty might declare: A spring of love gusht from my heart, And I blessed them unaware : Sure my kind saint took pity on me. And I blessed them unaware.
Сторінка 697 - dungeon fitter; All fixed on me their stony eyes, That in the Moon did glitter. The pang, the curse, with which they died, Had never passed away; I could not draw my eyes from theirs, Nor turn them up to pray. And now this spell was snapt; once more The curse is finally
Сторінка 689 - And every tongue, through utter drought, Was withered at the root: We could not speak, no more than if We had been choked with soot. Ah, well-a-day! what evil looks Had I from old and young! Instead of the cross, the Albatross About my neck was hung. PART
Сторінка 591 - So, fair and softly, John he cried, But John he cried in vain; That trot became a gallop soon, In spite of curb and rein. So stooping down, as needs he must Who cannot sit upright, He graspt the mane with both his hands, And eke with all
Сторінка 10 - Erle Percy took his way; The child may rue that is unborne The hunting of that day. The stout Erle of Northumberland A vow to God did make, His pleasure in the Scottish woods Three summers days to take; The cheefest harts in Chevy-Chase To kill and beare away. These tydings to Erle Douglas came, In
Сторінка 698 - On every corse there stood! This seraph-band, each waved his hand; It was a heavenly sight; They stood as signals to the land, Each one a lovely light; This seraph-band, each waved his hand No voice did they impart— No voice; but O! the silence sank Like music on my heart. But
Сторінка 10 - prevent his sport. The English erle, not fearing that, Did to the woods resort, With fifteen hundred bowmen bold, All chosen men of might, Who knew full well in time of neede To ayme their shafts aright. The gallant greyhounds swiftly ran To chase the fallow deere: On Munday they began to hunt
Сторінка 295 - is there not a ballad, boy, of the King and the Beggar,' he makes Moth say,' The world was very guilty of such a ballad some three ages since;' while, from the next part of his answer, ' but, I think, now 'tis not to be found,
Сторінка 593 - Each comely in its kind. Thus showed his ready wit, My head is twice as big as yours, He held them up, and in his turn They therefore needs must fit. That hangs upon your face; And stop and eat, for well you may But let me scrape the dirt away Be in a hungry case.
Сторінка 690 - With throat unslaked, with black lips baked, Agape they heard me call; Gramercy! they for joy did grin, A flash of joy. And all at once their breath drew in, As they were drinking all. See! see! I cried, she tacks no more And horror