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Page 50 - Of flowers that with one scarlet gleam Cover a hundred leagues, and seem To set the hills on fire. The youth of green savannahs spake, And many an endless, endless lake With all its fairy crowds Of islands, that together lie As quietly as spots of sky Among the evening clouds.
Page 155 - In behint yon auld fail dyke I wot there lies a new-slain knight; And naebody kens that he lies there But his hawk, his hound, and his lady fair. "His hound is to the hunting gane, His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame, His lady's ta'en anither mate, So we may mak our dinner sweet. "Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane, And I'll pike out his bonny blue e'en: Wi' ae lock o' his gowden hair We'll theek our nest when it grows bare.
Page 155 - As I was walking all alane, I heard twa corbies making a mane ; The tane unto the t'other say, " Where sall we gang and dine to-day...
Page 40 - Time Has mouldered into beauty many a tower, Which, when it frowned with all its battlements, Was only terrible...
Page 124 - shows gallanter still; 'Tis the blue vault of heaven, with its crescent so pale And with all its bright spangles!
Page 119 - Sweet Ruth ! and could you go with me My helpmate in the woods to be, Our shed at night to rear ; Or run, my own adopted bride, A sylvan huntress at my side, 95 And drive the flying deer ! "Beloved Ruth!
Page 155 - His lady's away with another mate, So we shall make our dinner sweet ; Our dinner's sure, our feasting free, Come, and dine by the greenwood tree. Ye shall sit on his white hause-bane...
Page 155 - neath the greenwood tree? As I sat on the deep sea sand, I saw a fair ship nigh at land, I waved my wings, I bent my beak, The ship sunk, and I heard a shriek; There they lie, one, two, and three, I shall dine by the wild salt sea.
Page 15 - GOD prosper long our noble king, Our lives and safeties all; A woful hunting once there did In Chevy-Chase befall. To drive the deer with hound and horn Earl Percy took his way; The child may rue that is unborn The hunting of that day. The stout Earl of Northumberland A vow to God did make, His pleasure in the Scottish woods Three summer days to take; The chiefest harts in Chevy-Chase To kill and bear away.