Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, Volumen1

A.&C. Black, 1873

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Página 205 - When in one night, ere glimpse of morn, His shadowy flail hath threshed the corn That ten day-labourers could not end ; Then lies him down the lubber fiend, And, stretched out all the chimney's length, Basks at the fire his hairy strength, And crop-full out of doors he flings, Ere the first cock his matin rings.
Página 363 - Now yield thee, yield thee, Percy," he said, " Or else I vow I'll lay thee low ! "— " To whom must I yield," quoth Earl Percy, " Now that I see it must be so...
Página 303 - They hadna been a week, a week, In Noroway, but twae, When that the lords o' Noroway Began aloud to say, — ,* Ye Scottishmen spend a' our king's goud, And a
Página 304 - Our gude ship sails the morn." " Now ever alake, my master dear, I fear a deadly storm ! " I saw the new moon, late yestreen, Wi' the auld moon in her arm ; And if we gang to sea, master, I fear we'll come to harm.
Página 159 - I OFT have heard of Lydford law, How in the morn they hang and draw, And sit in judgment after : At first I wondered at it much ; But since I find the reason such, As it deserves no laughter.
Página 302 - Be it wind, be it weet, be it hail, be it sleet, Our ship must sail the faem ; The king's daughter of Noroway, Tis we must fetch her hame.
Página 364 - But I would yield to Earl Douglas, Or Sir Hugh the Montgomery, if he were here." As soon as he knew it was Montgomery, He struck his sword's point in the gronde ; The Montgomery was a courteous knight, And quickly took him by the honde.
Página 62 - And he has plunged in wi a' his band, And safely swam them thro the stream. He turned him on the other side, And at Lord Scroope his glove flung he: "If ye like na my visit in merry England, In fair Scotland come visit me!
Página 57 - Where be ye gaun, ye hunters keen ? ' Quo' fause Sakelde ; ' come tell to me ! ' ' We go to hunt an English stag, Has trespass'd on the Scots countrie.
Página 306 - O lang, lang, may the ladyes sit, Wi' their fans into their hand, Before they see Sir Patrick Spens Come sailing to the strand ! And lang, lang, may the maidens sit, Wi' their goud kaims in their hair, A' waiting for their ain dear loves ! For them they 'll see na mair.

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