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 Renfrewshire, Volume 1 |
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Page xxi
... Mary of his song of Tweedside , is supposed , by Walter Scott , to have been Mary Lilias Scott , of the Harden family , oft - times , on account of her loveliness , styled The Flower o ' Yarrow . Besides those songs alluded to above ...
... Mary of his song of Tweedside , is supposed , by Walter Scott , to have been Mary Lilias Scott , of the Harden family , oft - times , on account of her loveliness , styled The Flower o ' Yarrow . Besides those songs alluded to above ...
Page xxxvi
... Mary for it , which , being the better song , was adopted . The opening of the melody is too like the first part of The flowers of the forest to lay claim to great originality , but after it was composed I never could please myself with ...
... Mary for it , which , being the better song , was adopted . The opening of the melody is too like the first part of The flowers of the forest to lay claim to great originality , but after it was composed I never could please myself with ...
Page xliii
... Mary's Yew . - item . A rafter of Alloway's auld hauntit Kirk . - Item . A walking staff of the Broom of the Cowden Knowes , convertible likewise into a sweet pastoral whistle , when it listeth one to pipe melodiously in journeying ...
... Mary's Yew . - item . A rafter of Alloway's auld hauntit Kirk . - Item . A walking staff of the Broom of the Cowden Knowes , convertible likewise into a sweet pastoral whistle , when it listeth one to pipe melodiously in journeying ...
Page lix
... Mary : For all the Patriarchs , both more and less , And great Melchisedeck himself said mass . Pack - man . But , good Sir John , spake all these fathers Latin ? And said they mass in surplices and satin ? Could they speak Latin , long ...
... Mary : For all the Patriarchs , both more and less , And great Melchisedeck himself said mass . Pack - man . But , good Sir John , spake all these fathers Latin ? And said they mass in surplices and satin ? Could they speak Latin , long ...
Page lxiv
... Mary's still sweeter than those ; Both nature and fancy exceed . Nor daisy , nor sweet blushing rose , Not all the gay flowers of the field , Not Tweed , gliding gently through those , Such beauty and pleasure does yield . The warblers ...
... Mary's still sweeter than those ; Both nature and fancy exceed . Nor daisy , nor sweet blushing rose , Not all the gay flowers of the field , Not Tweed , gliding gently through those , Such beauty and pleasure does yield . The warblers ...
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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
Alace Arthurlie auld Bard beauty birken bloom blythe bonny lassie bonny Peggy bosom bower braes breast breath bright Buttermere canna cauld charms cheek dear death delight Dunblane e'en e'er Ellen fair fame father flower frae Francis Sempill genius glow grave gude hame happy heart heaven honour hope ilka Jean Adam Johnny Katy lady land lass little sweep lo'e lov'd lover maid Mary maun morning mourn native ne'er never night o'er owre Paisley pleasure poem poet poetical poor quhat R. A. Smith Renfrewshire Robert Sempill rose round Scotish Scotland Sempill sigh sing sleep smile song sorrow soul sung sweet sweetly Tannahill tear thair thee there's thine thou Tralee tree Twas vows wander warl wave weary weel weep wild Willy winds wyllowe yon burn side youth
Popular passages
Page 281 - 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 hadst thou sprung In deserts, where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. 226 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.
Page 334 - 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 5 - We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed, And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow ! Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him ; But little hell reck if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him...
Page 383 - Row, brothers, row ! the stream runs fast, The rapids are near, and the daylight's past!
Page 415 - 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 267 - No rude sound shall reach thine ear, Armour's clang, or war-steed champing, Trump nor pibroch summon here, Mustering clan, or squadron tramping. Yet the lark's shrill fife may come At the daybreak from the fallow, And the bittern sound his drum, Booming from the sedgy shallow. Ruder sounds shall none be near, Guards nor warders challenge here, Here's no war-steed's neigh and champing, Shouting clans or squadrons stamping.
Page 412 - Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle. A gown made of the finest wool, Which from our pretty lambs we pull, Fair lined slippers for the cold, With buckles of the purest gold.
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. Few and short were the prayers we said, And -we spoke not a word of sorrow; But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead, And we bitterly thought of the morrow.
Page 16 - MINE be a cot beside the hill; A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear A willowy brook, that turns a mill, With many a fall shall linger near. The swallow, oft beneath my thatch, Shall twitter from her clay-built nest; Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch, And share my meal, a welcome guest.
Page 413 - 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.