Beauties of the Scottish poets, or Harp of Renfrewshire, a collection of songs and other poetical pieces, with notes, and a short essay on the poets of Renfrewshire [by W. Motherwell. Re-issue of the harp of Renfrewshire, with cancel title-leaf]. |
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Page 87
Until this hour I never thought That ought could alter thee , Mary , Thou ' rt still the
mistress of my heart , Think what thou wilt of me , Mary . Whate ' er he said or
might pretend , Wha stole that heart o ' thine , Mary , True love I ' m sure was ne '
er ...
Until this hour I never thought That ought could alter thee , Mary , Thou ' rt still the
mistress of my heart , Think what thou wilt of me , Mary . Whate ' er he said or
might pretend , Wha stole that heart o ' thine , Mary , True love I ' m sure was ne '
er ...
Page 111
But gie me , oh gie me , the dear calm o ' nature , By some bush or brae - side ,
where naebody goes , And ae bonny lassie to lean on my bosom , My ain lovely
Mary , the maid o ' Montrose . O what is the wale o ' the warld , Gin nane o ' its ...
But gie me , oh gie me , the dear calm o ' nature , By some bush or brae - side ,
where naebody goes , And ae bonny lassie to lean on my bosom , My ain lovely
Mary , the maid o ' Montrose . O what is the wale o ' the warld , Gin nane o ' its ...
Page 134
POOR MARY ANNE AIR – Ar hyd y nos . Here beneath this willow sleepeth Poor
Mary Anne ! One whom all the village weepeth , Poor Mary Anne ! He she lov ' d
her passion slighted ; Breaking all the vows he plighted ; Therefore life no more ...
POOR MARY ANNE AIR – Ar hyd y nos . Here beneath this willow sleepeth Poor
Mary Anne ! One whom all the village weepeth , Poor Mary Anne ! He she lov ' d
her passion slighted ; Breaking all the vows he plighted ; Therefore life no more ...
Page 325
MARY CAMPBELL + . AIR - Days o ' Langsyne . The primrose may blaw in the
dawn o ' the spring , In the grey dewy e ' ening the mavis may sing , The white -
breasted gowan may deck the green shaw , And the red rose o ' summer
perfuming ...
MARY CAMPBELL + . AIR - Days o ' Langsyne . The primrose may blaw in the
dawn o ' the spring , In the grey dewy e ' ening the mavis may sing , The white -
breasted gowan may deck the green shaw , And the red rose o ' summer
perfuming ...
Page 326
... Tho ' the wild warbling music sounds sweet through the dell , Still I sigh in deep
woe for my Mary Campbell , I linger a ' lanely by Ayr ' s winding stream , Where
my dear “ Highland Mary ” adorn ' d the sweet scene , Where the white mantlid ...
... Tho ' the wild warbling music sounds sweet through the dell , Still I sigh in deep
woe for my Mary Campbell , I linger a ' lanely by Ayr ' s winding stream , Where
my dear “ Highland Mary ” adorn ' d the sweet scene , Where the white mantlid ...
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Beauties of the Scottish Poets, Or Harp of Renfrewshire, a Collection of ... Scottish Poets,Renfrew County No preview available - 2016 |
The Harp of Renfrewshire: A Collection of Songs and Other Poetical Pieces ... Renfrew County No preview available - 2016 |
Common terms and phrases
appear beauty bloom bonny bosom breast bright charms cheek cold dark dear death deep delight fair father fear feel flower frae give grave hand happy head hear heard heart heaven hills hope hour I'll John kind known lady land lassie leave light live look maid mair Mary meet mind morning mountain native nature ne'er never night o'er once peace piece pleasure poem poet poor present published rest rise rose round scenes side sigh sing sleep smile song soon sorrow soul sound spirit sweet tear tell thee There's thine thing thou thought tree true Twas wander wave weary weel weep wild Willy wind written young youth
Popular passages
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 2 - 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 of the dead, And we bitterly thought of the morrow.
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 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 136 - She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps, And lovers around her are sighing; But coldly she turns from their gaze and weeps, For her heart in his grave is lying.
Page 412 - With coral clasps and amber studs: And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me and be my love.
Page 382 - FAINTLY as tolls the evening chime, Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time. Soon as the woods on shore look dim, We'll sing at St. Ann's our parting hymn. Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast, The Rapids are near and the daylight's past.
Page 271 - 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.
Page 414 - 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 1 - NOT a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried.
Page 3 - 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...
Bibliographic information
| Title | Beauties of the Scottish poets, or Harp of Renfrewshire, a collection of songs and other poetical pieces, with notes, and a short essay on the poets of Renfrewshire [by W. Motherwell. Re-issue of the harp of Renfrewshire, with cancel title-leaf]. |
| Author | Renfrew county |
| Editor | William Motherwell |
| Contributor | Scottish poets |
| Published | 1821 |
| Original from | Oxford University |
| Digitized | 26 Sep 2006 |
| Export Citation | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |