Essays on song-writing: with a collection of such English songs as are most eminent for poetical merit (Google eBook)

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R.H. Evans, 1810 - Ballads, English - 352 pages
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Page 260 - Sigh, no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever ; One foot in sea, and one on shore ; To one thing constant never : Then sigh not so, But let them go, And be you blithe and bonny ; Converting all your sounds of woe Into Hey nonny, nonny.
Page 48 - Till quite dejected with my scorn, He left me to my pride ; And sought a solitude forlorn, In secret, where he died. " But mine the sorrow, mine the fault, And well my life shall pay ; I'll seek the solitude he sought, And stretch me where he lay. " And there forlorn, despairing, hid, I'll lay me down and die ; 'Tvvas so for me that Edwin did, And so for him will I.
Page 43 - No flocks that range the valley free, To slaughter I condemn: Taught by that Power that pities me, I learn to pity them : "But from the mountain's grassy side A guiltless feast I bring; A scrip with herbs and fruits supplied, And water from the spring. "Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego ; All earth-born cares are wrong; Man wants but little here below, Nor wants that little long.
Page 302 - And I will make thee beds of roses And a thousand fragrant posies, A cap of flowers, and a kirtle Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle.
Page 337 - Oh ! young Lochinvar is come out of the west, Through all the wide Border his steed was the best ; And save his good broadsword he weapons had none, He rode all unarmed and he rode all alone. So faithful in love and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.
Page 338 - Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword (For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word), "O, come ye in peace here, or come ye in war Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?
Page 282 - When she is by, I leave my work, I love her so sincerely; My master comes like any Turk, And bangs me most severely: But let him bang his bellyful, I'll bear it all for Sally; She is the darling of my heart, And she lives in our alley.
Page 304 - Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies, Soon break, soon wither soon forgotten, In folly ripe, in reason rotten. Thy belt of straw and ivy-buds, Thy coral clasps and amber studs, All these in me no means can move To come to thee and be thy Love.
Page 263 - Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup, And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine.
Page 281 - And it seem'd to a fanciful view To weep for the buds it had left, with regret, On the flourishing bush where it grew. I hastily seized it, unfit as it was For a nosegay, so dripping and drown'd, And swinging it rudely, too rudely, alas! I snapp'd it, it fell to the ground. And such...

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