Ballads and songs of Brittany, by T. Taylor, tr. from the 'Barsaz [sic] Breiz' of vicomte Hersart de la Villemarqué

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vicomte Théodore Claude H. Hersart de la Villemarqué
MacMillan and Company, 1865 - 239 pages

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Page 50 - Light up, light up! as best ye may, The night is black, and frore the way. " But ere ye catch me, sore I fear, The shoes from off your feet you'll wear— " The shoes of the gilded blue cordwain; * For your scales—you'll ne'er need them again. " Your scales of gold you will need no more, To weigh
Page 37 - IV. He sleepeth still, he sleepeth sound, When, hark, a cry from the lower ground" The sluice is oped, Kaer-Is is drown'd ! " Awake, Sir King, the gates unspar ! Rise up, and ride both fast and far ! The sea flows over bolt and bar!" Now cursed for ever mote she be, That all for wine and harlotry, The sluice
Page 42 - out, God guard from harm that chieftain stout." Or ever he had pray'd his prayer, Behold, Nome'noe was there ! His quarry from the chase he bore, His great hounds gambolling before : In his right hand his bow unbent ; A wild-boar on his back uphent On his white hand, all fresh and red, The blood dripp'd from the wild-boar's head.
Page 40 - The wains to Roazon drove he, Horsed with good horses, three by three,— " That drew fair-shared among them all, The Breton's tribute to the Gaul" " If thy son's wains the tribute bore, He will return to thee no more. " When that the coin was brought to scale, Three pounds were lacking to the tale.
Page 43 - Heaven hath a God, I trow, old man ; Bretayne a chief, if ought I can." " He can that will, thereof no doubt, And he that can the Frank drives out— " Drives out the Frank, defends the land, To avenge, and still avenge, doth stand ;— " To avenge the living and the dead, Me and my fair son foully sped ;
Page 41 - Then outspake the Intendant straight: ' Vassal, thy head shall make the weight!' " With that his sword forth he abrade, And straight smote off the young man's head ; " And by the hair the head he swung, And in the scale, for makeweight,
Page 11 - The grass grew thick by the streamlet's brink, And he lighted down off his horse to drink. The Corrigaun sat by the fountain fair, A-combing her long and yellow hair. A-combing her hair with a comb of gold,-— (Not poor, I trow, are
Page 212 - your house shall come, All with the marriage-messenger,* bearing his branch of broom. Ah, me! my stars are froward : "gainst nature is my state; Since in this world I came I've dreed a dark and dismal fate : I have nor living kin nor friends, mother nor father dear, There is no Christian on earth to wish me happy here.
Page 165 - The happiest lot from life they bring, The young whom death takes in the spring. " Ev'n as the rose drops from the spray, So youth from life doth fall away. " Those who die ere this week is flown, All with fresh flowers shall be strown ; "And from those flowers shall soar heaven-high, As from the rose-cup the butterfly.
Page 13 - gown of grain, or of watchet fair ?" " The fashion of late, my child, hath grown, That women for churching black should don." As through the churchyard porch she stept, She saw the grave where her husband slept. " Who of our blood is lately dead, That our ground is new raked and spread ?

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