The Harp of Renfrewshire: A Collection of Songs and Other Poetical Pieces (many of which are Original) Accompanied with Notes, Explanatory, Critical, and Biographical, and a Short Essay on the Poets of RenfrewshireWilliam Motherwell |
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Page 1
... bright'ning hope can gild the morrow , Thy lover hails a distant shore , Nor thinks of thee far in Glen - Orra . The moon is up , the maiden's gone , Where flower and tree the night dews cover , To weep by mountain streamlet lone , O'er ...
... bright'ning hope can gild the morrow , Thy lover hails a distant shore , Nor thinks of thee far in Glen - Orra . The moon is up , the maiden's gone , Where flower and tree the night dews cover , To weep by mountain streamlet lone , O'er ...
Page 2
... bright , The hills and the dales from the tow'rs which we see , They all shall belong , my dear infant , to thee . O rest thee , babe , rest thee , babe , sleep on till day , O rest thee , babe , rest thee , babe , sleep while you may ...
... bright , The hills and the dales from the tow'rs which we see , They all shall belong , my dear infant , to thee . O rest thee , babe , rest thee , babe , sleep on till day , O rest thee , babe , rest thee , babe , sleep while you may ...
Page 13
... night , and how death - like the gloom , Which earth's lonely bounds now enshrouds , No star sparkles bright , and retir'd is the moon From her sentinel - watch in the clouds . Where now are the flowers that embroider'd the vale , 13.
... night , and how death - like the gloom , Which earth's lonely bounds now enshrouds , No star sparkles bright , and retir'd is the moon From her sentinel - watch in the clouds . Where now are the flowers that embroider'd the vale , 13.
Page 14
... Yes , for ever ! -no more shall Eliza's bright eye , The sun of my soul , shed its light ; Its heaven - born lustre has fled in a sigh , And left my sad bosom in night . X. LINES , In imitation of the Italian . Love 14.
... Yes , for ever ! -no more shall Eliza's bright eye , The sun of my soul , shed its light ; Its heaven - born lustre has fled in a sigh , And left my sad bosom in night . X. LINES , In imitation of the Italian . Love 14.
Page 19
... bright , Than any gem that gilds the mine . author of the Voyage of Columbus , and of the well known production entitled the Pleasures of Memory . These are all exceedingly interesting and beautiful in their kind , being calculated to ...
... bright , Than any gem that gilds the mine . author of the Voyage of Columbus , and of the well known production entitled the Pleasures of Memory . These are all exceedingly interesting and beautiful in their kind , being calculated to ...
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The Harp of Renfrewshire: A Collection of Songs and Other Poetical Pieces ... William Motherwell No preview available - 2016 |
Common terms and phrases
Arthurlie Bard beauty blaw bloom blythe bonny lassie bonny Peggy bosom bower braes brave breast breath bright Caledonia street cauld charms cheek dear death delight e'en e'er Ellen fair father flower frae Francis Sempill gane genius Glasgow glow Greenock gude hame happy heart heaven ilka James Jean Adam John John Sim Kilbarchan lady lass lo'e Lochwinnoch lov'd lover maid Mary maun morning mourn nae mair native ne'er never night o'er Paisley peace pleasure poem poet poetical poor quhat R. A. Smith Renfrewshire Robert Sempill Robert Tannahill rose round Scotish Scotland Sempill sigh sing sleep smile song sorrow soul street sung sweet sweetly Tannahill tear thee There's thine thou tree Twas wander warl wave weary weel weep wild Willy winds wyllowe yon burn side youth
Popular passages
Page 283 - When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired; Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die, that she The common fate of all things rare May read in thee, How small a part of time they share, That are so wondrous sweet and fair.
Page 336 - Take, oh take those lips away, That so sweetly were forsworn; And those eyes, the break of day, Lights that do mislead the morn; But my kisses bring again, bring again, Seals of love, but seal'd in vain.
Page 385 - Row, brothers, row ! the stream runs fast, The rapids are near, and the daylight's past!
Page 417 - Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies, Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten,— In folly ripe, in reason rotten. Thy belt of straw and ivy buds, Thy coral clasps and amber studs,— All these in me no means can move To come to thee and be thy love.
Page 269 - Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done, While our slumbrous spells assail ye, Dream not with the rising sun, Bugles here shall sound reveille. Sleep ! the deer is in his den ; Sleep! thy hounds are by thee lying; Sleep ! nor dream in yonder glen, How thy gallant steed lay dying. Huntsman, rest ! thy chase is done, Think not of the rising sun, For at dawning to assail ye, Here no bugles sound reveille.
Page 415 - The shepherd swains shall dance and sing For thy delight each May morning: If these delights thy mind may move, Then live with me and be my love.
Page 283 - Go, lovely Rose ! Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied, That had'st thou sprung In deserts where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired : Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die ! that she The common fate of all things rare May read in thee, —...
Page 416 - The flowers do fade, and wanton fields To wayward Winter reckoning yields: A honey tongue, a heart of gall, Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall. Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies, Soon break, soon wither — soon forgotten...
Page 4 - By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him.
Page 273 - THE YOUNG MAY MOON. THE young May moon is beaming, love, The glow-worm's lamp is gleaming, love, How sweet to rove Through Morna's grove,* When the drowsy world is dreaming, love ! Then awake ! — the heavens look bright, my dear, 'Tis never too late for delight, my dear, And the best of all ways To lengthen our days Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear.