Scottish Ballads and Songs, Historical and Traditionary, Volume 1

James Maidment
W. Patterson, 1868

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Populaire passages

Pagina 36 - 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
Pagina 163 - And have they ta'en him, Kinmont Willie, Against the truce of Border tide? And forgotten that the bauld Buccleuch Is Keeper here on the Scottish side?
Pagina 166 - And when we left the Staneshaw-bank, The wind began full loud to blaw ; But 'twas wind and weet, and fire and sleet> When we came beneath the castle wa'. We crept on knees, and held our breath, Till we placed the ladders against the wa'; And sac ready was Buccleuch himsell To mount the first, before us a'.
Pagina 91 - With that there came an arrow keen Out of an English bow, Which struck Earl Douglas to the heart, A deep and deadly blow ; Who never spoke more words than these : Fight on, my merry men all ; For why, my life is at an end, Lord Percy sees my fall.
Pagina 62 - It fell about the Lammas tide, When the muir-men win their hay, The doughty Douglas bound him to ride Into England, to drive a prey. He chose the Gordons and the Graemes, With them the Lindesays, light and gay But the Jardines wald not with him ride, And they rue it to this day.
Pagina 72 - Doglas, he says, Thow shalt never se that day; Nethar in Ynglonde, Skottlonde, nar France, Nor for no man of a woman born, But and fortune be my chance, I dar met him on man for on.
Pagina 167 - Wi' coulters, and wi' forehammers, We garr'd the bars bang merrilie, Until we came to the inner prison, Where Willie o' Kinmont he did lie. And when we cam to the lower prison, Where Willie o...
Pagina 66 - My nephew good," the Douglas said, " What recks the death of ane ! Last night I dream'da dreaiy dream, And I ken the day's thy ain. " My wound is deep ; I fain would sleep ; Take thou the vanguard of the three, And hide me by the braken * bush, That grows on yonder lilye lee.
Pagina 86 - Did to the woods resort With fifteen hundred bowmen bold, All chosen men of might, Who knew full well in time of need To aim their shafts aright.
Pagina 164 - Where be ye gaun, ye hunters keen?" Quo' fause Sakelde; "come tell to me!" "We go to hunt an English stag, Has trespassed on the Scots countrie.

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