Select Remains of the Ancient Popular and Romance Poetry of Scotland

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David Laing, John Small
W. Blackwood and Sons, 1885 - Dialect poetry, Scottish - 411 pages
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Page 228 - Which th' earth brings forth; and wet he seemed in sight With waves, through which he waded for his love's delight. Then came fair May, the fairest maid on ground, Decked all with dainties of her season's pride, And throwing flowers out of her lap around...
Page 210 - A dungeon horrible on all sides round, As one great furnace flamed ; yet from those flames No light ; but rather darkness visible, Served only to discover sights of woe, Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace And rest can never dwell ; hope never comes, That comes to all ; but torture without end Still urges, and a fiery deluge, fed With ever-burning sulphur unconsumed.
Page 139 - In the introduction to the prophecies, however, there is so much more fancy and elegance than in the prophecies themselves, that they can hardly be supposed to be the composition of the same person. Indeed, the internal evidence to the contrary almost amounts to a proof that they are not...
Page 12 - To the Coiljearis hous baith, or thay wald blin, The Carll had Cunning weill quhair the gait lay ; " Vndo the dure beliue ! Dame, art thow in ? Quhy Deuill makis thow na dule for this euill day ? 95 For my Gaist and I baith cheueris with the chin, Sa fell ane wedder feld I neuer, be my gude fay.
Page 28 - Thair was na leid on lyfe lent in this land." " Quhat kin a fallow was that ane, Schir, I the pray ? " " Ane man in husband weid, Buskit busteously on breid, Leidand Coillis he jeid 595 To Paris the way." XLviI. " Quhy hes thow not that husband brocht as I the bad ? I dreid me, sa he dantit the, thow durst not with him deill.
Page xi - To sing in the praises of Sage Bannatyne, Who left such a treasure of old Scottish lore, As enables each age to print one volume more. One volume more, my friends — one volume more, "Well ransack old Banny for one volume more.
Page 39 - that word lykis me, And Christ his sweit Sone, that the that grace send." Thay swoir on thair swordis swyftlie all thre, And conseruit thame freindis to thair lyfis end, 950 Euer in all trauell to leif and to die.
Page 35 - He foundis throw his forcenes gif he micht him se ; He straik the steid with the spurris, he sprent on the bent. Sa hard ane cours maid thay, That baith thair hors deid lay, Thair speiris in splenders away 815 Abufe thair heid sprent.
Page 37 - I se be my sicht, For to confound our Cristin men that counteris sa kene ; Tell me thy name tyte, thow trauelland Knicht ! Fy on thy fechting ! fell hes thow bene, Thow art stout and strang, and stalwart in fecht, 875 Sa is thy fallow in faith, and that is weill sene ; In Christ and thow will trow, thow takis nane outray.
Page 29 - ane gift heir I geif; I deuise at the get thair is ane allane, Bot he be lattin in beliue, him lykis not to leif ; With ane capill and twa creillis cassin on the plane, To cum to this Palice he preissis to preif.

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