Reliques of Ancient English Poetry: Consisting of Old Heroic Ballads, Songs, and Other Pieces of Our Earlier Poets, Together with Some Few of Later Date, Volume 2

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J. Nichols, 1794 - Ballads, English
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Page 128 - LITHE and listen, gentlemen, To sing a song I will beginne : It is of a lord of faire Scotland, Which was the unthrifty heire of Linne. His father was a right good lord, His mother a lady of high degree ; But they, alas \ were dead, him froe. And he lov'd keeping companie. To spend the daye with merry cheare, To...
Page 329 - WHEN love with unconfined wings Hovers within my gates, And my divine Althea brings To whisper at the grates ; When I lie tangled in her hair, And fettered to her eye, The birds that wanton in the air Know no such liberty.
Page 315 - The following is chiefly printed from an ancient black-letter copy to "the tune of Deny down." AN ancient story He tell you anon Of a notable prince, that was called King John ; And he ruled England with maine and with might, For he did great wrong, and maintein'd little right.
Page 322 - That kept a brave old house at a bountiful rate, And an old porter to relieve the poor at his gate ; Like an old courtier of the queen's, And the queen's old courtier.
Page 379 - My love, as he had not been a lover. The boy put on his robes, his robes of green, His purple vest, 'twas my ain sewing; Ah!
Page 337 - Even then her charming melody doth prove, That all her bars are trees, her cage a grove. I am that bird, whom they combine Thus to deprive of liberty ; But though they do my corps confine, Yet maugre hate, my soul is free : And though immur'd, yet can I chirp, and sing Disgrace to rebels, glory to my king.
Page 389 - Twas true and loyal still to her. Amid those unrelenting flames She bore this constant heart to see, But when 'twas moulder'd into dust, ' Yet, yet, (she cried) I follow thee!
Page 321 - You violets that first appear, By your pure purple mantles known Like the proud virgins of the year, As if the spring were all your own; What are you when the rose is blown? So, when my mistress shall be seen In form and beauty of her mind, By virtue first, then choice, a Queen, Tell me, if she were not designed Th' eclipse and glory of her kind.
Page 130 - My gold is gone, my money is spent ; My lande nowe take it unto thee : Give me the golde, good John o' the Scales, And thine for aye my lande shall bee.
Page 236 - If our foes you may be termed, Gentle foes we have you found : With our city, you have won our hearts each one, Then to your country bear away, that is your own.

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