The tea-table miscellany: or, a collection of scots sangs. In three volumes. The ninth edition, ... by Allan Ramsay. ... (Google eBook)

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printed for and sold by A. Millar, 1733 - 356 pages
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Page 111 - Alexander I will reign, And I will reign alone ; My thoughts did evermore disdain A rival on my throne. He either fears his fate too much, Or his deserts are small, Who dares not put it to the touch, To gain or lose it all.
Page 255 - William, who high upon the yard, Rock'd with the billows to and fro. Soon as her well-known voice he heard, He sigh'd and cast his eyes below: The cord slides swiftly through his glowing hands. And, (quick as lightning, ) on the deck he stands.
Page 149 - ... of thy fault, Thy pledge and broken oath ! And give me back my maiden vow, And give me back my troth.
Page 275 - Why so pale and wan, fond lover? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when looking well can't move her, Looking ill prevail? Prithee, why so pale?
Page 218 - Just entered in her teens, Fair as the day, and sweet as May, Fair as the day, and always gay. My Peggy is a young thing, And I'm not very auld, Yet well I like to meet her at The wauking of the fauld. My Peggy speaks sae sweetly, Whene'er we meet alane, I wish nae mair to lay my care, I wish nae mair of a' that's rare. My Peggy speaks sae sweetly, To a' the lave I'm cauld; But she gars a' my spirits glow, At wauking of the fauld.
Page 273 - Oh, so true, so kind was he ! Damon was the pride of nature, Charming in his every feature; Damon liv'd alone for me: Melting kisses, Murmuring blisses ; Who so liv'd and lov'd as we!
Page 251 - tis none of mine. Yet send me back my heart and eyes, That I may know, and see thy lies, And may laugh and joy, when thou Art in anguish And dost languish For some one That will none, Or prove as false as thou art now.
Page 270 - And when she looks down on my grave, Let her own that her shepherd was true. Then to her new love let her go. And deck her in golden array ; Be...
Page 50 - Still as his mother favoured you, Threw a new flaming dart. Each gloried in their wanton part ; To make a lover, he Employed the utmost of his art To make a beauty, she.
Page 269 - twas a pleasure too great ; I listen'd, and cried when she sung, Was nightingale ever so sweet ! How foolish was I to believe, She could dote on so lowly a clown, Or that her fond heart would not grieve To forsake the fine folk of the town ; To think that a beauty so gay So kind and so constant...

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