The Poetical register, and repository of fugitive poetry

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Page 215 - Sir Ralph the Rover walk'd his deck, And he fixed his eye on the darker speck. He felt the cheering power of spring, It made him whistle, it made him sing ; His heart was mirthful to excess, But the Rover's mirth was wickedness. His eye was on the Inchcape float ; Quoth he, ' My men, put out the boat, And row me to the Inchcape Rock, And I'll plague the priest of Aberbrothok.
Page 215 - Sir Ralph the Rover sailed away, He scoured the seas for many a day ; And now grown rich with plundered store, He steers his course for Scotland's shore. So thick a haze o'erspreads the sky They cannot see the sun on high ; The wind hath blown a gale all day, At evening it hath died away. On the deck the Rover takes his stand, So dark it is they see no land. Quoth Sir Ralph, "It will be lighter soon, For there is the dawn of the rising moon.
Page 216 - Now where we are I cannot tell, But I wish I could hear the Inchcape Bell. " They hear no sound ; the swell is strong ; Though the wind hath fallen, they drift along, Till the vessel strikes with a shivering shock: " O Christ! it is the Inchcape Rock!
Page 344 - twas she, the maiden all forlorn. What though she milk no cow with crumpled horn, Yet aye she haunts the dale where erst she stray'd; And aye beside her stalks her amorous knight! Still on his thighs their wonted brogues are worn, And thro...
Page 214 - No STIR in the air, no stir in the sea: The ship was still as she could be; Her sails from heaven received no motion; Her keel was steady in the ocean. Without either sign or sound of their shock, The waves flowed over the Inchcape Rock; So little they rose, so little they fell, They did not move the Inchcape Bell.
Page 343 - I do love thee, meek Simplicity! For of thy lays the lulling simpleness Goes to my heart and soothes each small distress, Distress though small, yet haply great to me! 'Tis true on Lady Fortune's gentlest pad I amble on; yet, though I know not why, So sad I am!
Page 215 - Down sunk the Bell with a gurgling sound, The bubbles rose and burst around: Quoth Sir Ralph, 'The next who comes to the Rock Won't bless the Abbot of Aberbrothok.
Page 216 - Sir Ralph the Rover tore his hair, He curst himself in his despair: The waves rush in on every side; The ship is sinking beneath the tide. But even in his dying fear. One dreadful sound could the Rover hear, — A sound as if, with the Inchcape Bell, The Devil below was ringing his knell.
Page 350 - I'll give the child his guinea ! But, who'd have thought to see a thief, In this same country ninny !" Humphrey, astonish'd, thus begins — " Good Measters ! hear me, pray !" But — " Duck him, duck him !" is the cry; At length, he sneaks away. "Ah! now...
Page 272 - Chloris, Sappho, Lesbia, or Doris, Arethusa or Lucrece. "Ah!" replied my gentle fair, "Beloved, what are names but air? Choose thou whatever suits the line; Call me Sappho, call me Chloris, Call me Lalage or Doris, Only — only call me thine.

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