Reliques of Ancient English Poetry: Consisting of Old Heroic Ballads, Songs, & Other Pieces of Our Earlier Poets, Together with Some Few of Later Date, & a Copious GlossaryH.G. Bohn, 1851 - 307 sider |
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Side 8
... doth in the rayne . Yelde the to me , sayd the Dowglàs , Or els thow schalt be slayne : 90 90 For Jesu's love , sayd Syr Harye Percy , That dyed for yow and me , Wende to my lorde my father agayne , And saye thou saw me not with yee ...
... doth in the rayne . Yelde the to me , sayd the Dowglàs , Or els thow schalt be slayne : 90 90 For Jesu's love , sayd Syr Harye Percy , That dyed for yow and me , Wende to my lorde my father agayne , And saye thou saw me not with yee ...
Side 12
... doth my lord ? O sicke , thou fayr ladyè . Nowe ryse up wightlye , man for shame , Never lye soe cowardlee ; 35 And soe fast he called on Syr Caulìne , O man , I rede thee five , For ' but ' if cryance comes till my heart , I weene but ...
... doth my lord ? O sicke , thou fayr ladyè . Nowe ryse up wightlye , man for shame , Never lye soe cowardlee ; 35 And soe fast he called on Syr Caulìne , O man , I rede thee five , For ' but ' if cryance comes till my heart , I weene but ...
Side 13
... Doth some faire lillye flowre . 40 185 And ever shee doth lament and weepe To tint her lover soe : Yea , and oftentimes they mette Within a fayre arbòure , Where they in love and sweet daliaunce Past manye a pleasaunt houre . + In this ...
... Doth some faire lillye flowre . 40 185 And ever shee doth lament and weepe To tint her lover soe : Yea , and oftentimes they mette Within a fayre arbòure , Where they in love and sweet daliaunce Past manye a pleasaunt houre . + In this ...
Side 18
... doth not beseeme a proud harpèr To stable him ' in a kyngs halle There growes an hearbe within this field , And iff it were but knowne , His color , which is whyte and redd , It will make blacke and browne : 150 ifis color , which is ...
... doth not beseeme a proud harpèr To stable him ' in a kyngs halle There growes an hearbe within this field , And iff it were but knowne , His color , which is whyte and redd , It will make blacke and browne : 150 ifis color , which is ...
Side 22
... doth meane . 40 Ah ! John , by me thou settest noe store , And that I farley finde : How offt send I my men beffore , And thinke of Robin Hood , How he is gone to the wight yeoman , Where under the leaves he stood . Good morrowe , good ...
... doth meane . 40 Ah ! John , by me thou settest noe store , And that I farley finde : How offt send I my men beffore , And thinke of Robin Hood , How he is gone to the wight yeoman , Where under the leaves he stood . Good morrowe , good ...
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Reliques of Ancient English Poetry: Consisting of Old Heroic Ballads, Songs ... Thomas Percy Uten tilgangsbegrensning - 1872 |
Reliques of Ancient English Poetry: Consisting of Old Heroic Ballads, Songs ... Thomas Percy Uten tilgangsbegrensning - 1840 |
Vanlige uttrykk og setninger
Adam Bell ancient Anglo-Saxon appears awaye ballad Bards barons called castle Child Waters copy Cotton Library daughter daye dear death doth Douglas dragon Du Cange Earl edition Editor Editor's folio Edward England English Erle fair fast father fayre Garland Gawaine gold hand harp Harper hart hast hath heart heire of Linne Henry Hist honour intitled John king King Arthur knight kyng lady ladye land Lord manner Mary Ambree Minstrels never noble Northumberland Percy play poem poet poetry praye prince printed Queen quoth reader reign Richard Robin Robin Hood romance sayd sayes Scotland Scots Scottish shee shold sing Sir Aldingar slaine slayne song sonne stanzas sweet sword tell thee ther unto willow wold word writer written wyfe wyll wyth youth zour
Populære avsnitt
Side 82 - Who God doth late and early pray, More of his grace than gifts to lend, And entertains the harmless day, With a religious book or friend. This man is freed from servile bands Of hope to rise, or fear to fall ; Lord of himself, though not of lands, And having nothing, yet hath all.
Side 52 - My mother had a maid call'd Barbara : She was in love ; and he she lov'd prov'd mad, And did forsake her : she had a song of " willow ;" An old thing 'twas, but it express'd her fortune, And she died singing it...
Side 264 - Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind, To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you too shall adore; I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honour more.
Side 1 - I never heard the old song of Percy and Douglas that I found not my heart moved more than with a trumpet...
Side 58 - 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.
Side 169 - Collection, compared with another printed among some miscellaneous "poems and songs" in a book intitled, " Le Prince d'Amour," 1660, Svo. AN old song made by an aged old pate, Of an old worshipful gentleman, who had a greate estate, That kept a brave old house at a bountiful rate, And an old porter to relieve the poor at his gate ; Like an old courtier of the queen's, And the queen's old courtier.
Side 177 - Why so pale and wan, fond lover? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when looking well can't move her. Looking ill prevail? Prithee, why so pale?
Side 243 - Think what with them they would do That without them dare to woo ; And unless that mind I see, What care I how great she be ? Great, or good, or kind, or fair, I will ne'er the more despair: If she love me, this believe, I will die ere she shall grieve : If she slight me when I woo, I can scorn and let her go ; For if she be not for me, What care I for whom she be ? George Wither.
Side 169 - You meaner beauties of the night, That poorly satisfy our eyes More by your number than your light ; You common people of the skies ; What are you when the moon shall rise?
Side 65 - His cheek was redder than the rose, The comeliest youth was he. But he is dead, and laid in his grave, Alas ! and woe is me ! Sigh no more, lady, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever ; One foot on sea, and one on land, To one thing constant never.