The Poetical Works of William MotherwellW.D. Ticknor, 1847 - 267 pagina's |
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Adieu alace Allah ballad beautiful Blackwood's Magazine bosom brave breath bright bright eye brow cauld cheek cold dark death deep dews ding dong doom doth doun dream earth endearing evermore farewell flower frae gentle glad Glasgow gleam glee glory grave green hand Harald harp hath heart heaven Heigho hour Jarl Egill Jeanie Morrison Kilmarnock Kilsyth kiss lady land leaf life's light lips live Lord love's luve lyre maiden merry midnight midnight wind Minstrelsy moonshine Motherwell's murmurs ne'er never nevir night o'er Paisley pale poetical proud Renfrewshire scorn shadows shed shine sigh Silverwood sing Skalds sleep smile song soul sound spirit spurrit stars steed Stirlingshire strand stream sweet sword Syr Hew tears thair thay thee thine thou tree voice wandered Water wave weep well-a-day wild William Motherwell Willie Wind and Rain wood
Populaire passages
Pagina liii - And, ever and anon, he beat The doubling drum, with furious heat ; And though sometimes, each dreary pause between, Dejected Pity, at his side, Her soul-subduing voice applied, Yet still he kept his wild unaltered mien, While each strained ball of sight seemed bursting from his head.
Pagina 44 - ... And blind my een wi' tears : They blind my een wi' saut, saut tears, And sair and sick I pine, As memory idly summons up The blithe blinks o
Pagina 47 - I've borne a weary lot ; But in my wanderings, far or near, Ye never were forgot. The fount that first burst frae this heart, Still travels on its way ; And channels deeper as it rins, The luve o' life's young day. O, dear, dear Jeanie Morrison, Since we were sindered young, I've never seen your face, nor heard The music o...
Pagina 183 - Then mounte ! then mounte, brave gallants, all, And don your helmes amaine ; Deathe's couriers, Fame and Honour, call Us to the field againe. No shrewish teares shall fill our eye When the sword-hilt's in our hand...
Pagina 49 - Let me sit on your knee, Willie, Let me shed by your hair, And look into the .face, Willie, I never shall see mair ! I'm sittin' on your knee, Willie, For the last time in my life, A puir heart-broken thing, Willie — A mither, yet nae wife. Ay, press your hand upon my heart, And press it mair and mair, Or it will burst the silken twine, Sae...
Pagina 45 - How cheeks brent red wi' shame, Whene'er the scule-weans laughin' said, We cleek'd thegither hame? And mind ye o' the Saturdays (The scule then skailt at noon), When we ran aff to speel the braes — The broomy braes o...
Pagina liii - ... was eminently delighted with those flights of imagination which pass the bounds of nature, and to which the mind is reconciled only by a passive acquiescence in popular traditions. He loved fairies, genii, giants, and monsters; he delighted to rove through the meanders of inchantment, to gaze on the magnificence of golden palaces, to repose by the waterfalls of Elysian gardens.
Pagina 21 - Through sunshine or through gloom ; Through swelling surge on bloody strand I plant the scroll of doom ! On Scandia's lonest, bleakest waste, Beneath a starless sky, The shadowy Three like meteors passed, And bade young Harald die ; — They sang the war-deeds of his sires, And pointed to their tomb ; They told him that this glory-flag Was his by right of doom. Since then, where hath young Harald been, But where Jarl's son should be ? 'Mid war and waves — the combat keen That raged on land or sea...
Pagina 46 - The flowers burst round our feet, And in the gloamin o' the wood : The throssil whusslit sweet. The throssil whusslit in the wood, The burn sang to the trees. And we with Nature's heart in tune, Concerted harmonies ; And on the knowe abune the burn, For hours thegither sat In the silentness o' joy, till baith Wi
Pagina 167 - THEY come ! the merry summer months of beauty, song, and flowers ; They come ! the gladsome months that bring thick leafiness to bowers. Up, up, my heart ! and walk abroad ; fling cark and care aside ; Seek silent hills, or rest thyself where peaceful waters glide ; Or, underneath the shadow vast of patriarchal tree, Scan through its leaves the cloudless sky in rapt tranquillity. The grass is soft, its velvet touch...