The lark. Containing a collection of above four hundred and seventy celebrated English and Scotch songs

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Сторінка 11 - And take your bows with speed: " And now with me, my countrymen, Your courage forth advance; For never was there champion yet, In Scotland or in France, " That ever did on horseback come, But if my hap it were, I durst encounter man for man, With him to break a spear.
Сторінка 307 - Just entered in her teens, Fair as the day, and sweet as May, Fair as the day, and always gay. My Peggy is a young thing, And I'm not very auld, Yet well I like to meet her at The wauking of the fauld. My Peggy speaks sae sweetly, Whene'er we meet alane, I wish nae mair to lay my care, — I wish nae mair of a' that's rare. My Peggy speaks sae sweetly, To a' the lave I'm cauld; But she gars a' my spirits glow, At wauking of the fauld.
Сторінка 11 - The hounds ran swiftly through the woods The nimble deer to take, And with their cries the hills and dales An echo shrill did make. Lord Percy to the quarry went, To view the tender deer; Quoth he, " Earl Douglas promised This day to meet me here. " If that I thought he would not come, No longer would I stay.
Сторінка 124 - twere always day. With heavy sighs I often hear You mourn my hapless woe ; But sure with patience I can bear A loss I ne'er can know. Then let not what I cannot have My cheer of mind destroy : Whilst thus I sing, I am a king, Although a poor blind boy.
Сторінка 10 - With fifteen hundred bowmen bold, All chosen men of might, Who knew full well in time of need To aim their shafts aright.
Сторінка 250 - I'll never demand, Or black or fair it maks na whether. I'm aff with wit, and beauty will fade, And blood alane is no worth a shilling; But she that's rich her market's made, For ilka charm about her is killing. Gi'e me a lass with a lump of land, And in my...
Сторінка 16 - God save the King, and bless the land In plenty, joy, and peace; And grant henceforth that foul debate 'Twixt noblemen may cease.
Сторінка 259 - Why the devil do ye na march ? Stand to your arms, my lads, Fight in good order ; Front about, ye musketeers all, Till ye come to the English border ; Stand till 't, and fight like men, True gospel to maintain. The parliament's blythe to see us a' coming. When to the kirk we come, We'll purge it ilka room, Frae popish relics, an' a' sic innovation. That a' the world may see, There's nane in the right but we, Of the auld Scottish nation.
Сторінка 126 - Whilst thro' the groves I walk with you, Each object makes me gay ; Since your return the sun and moon With brighter beams do shine, Streams murmur soft notes while they run, As they did lang syne.
Сторінка 253 - His tempting face, and flatt'ring chear, In time to me did not appear ; But now I fee that cruel he Cares neither for his babe nor me. Balow, my boy, &c.

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