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Andrew Barton Argyle armour army baith ballad battle BATTLE OF HARLAW blood braken bush brave bonny lasse bridge of Dee captain copy Covenanters daye death Dub a-dub Duke Earl Douglas Earl of Mar Earl of Murray England English fair fear fell fight foes fought frae gallant Gordons hand Harlaw hath haws of Cromdale heart Highlanders hill horse hundred Huntly James Jane Shore Johnie Cope King Henry King Leir knight lady land Lord Howard lord Perse Mary Ambree Montrose mony Murray ne'er never noble o'er Old Ballads Otterbourne Percy Society Percy's prince Queen Jeanie quoth richt royal sayd saye Scotland Scots shee Sir Andrew Barton Sir John slain slayne spear stanza stout Stukely sword thair thee ther thou thousand thow took town unto uppon Whigs wold
Page 23 - My nephew good, the Douglas said, What recks the death of ane; Last night I dream'da dreary dream And I ken the day's thy ain. My wound is deep, I fain would sleep; Take thou the vanguard of the three, And hide me by the braken bush That grows on yonder lilye lee. O bury me by the braken bush, Beneath the blooming brier; Let never living mortal ken That ere a kindly Scot lies here.
Page 20 - O wha's the lord of this castle, Or wha's the lady o't ? " But up spake proud Lord Percy, then, And O but he spake hie ! " I am the lord of this castle, My wife's the lady gay...
Page 49 - Then leaving life, Earl Percy took The dead man by the hand ; And said, " Earl Douglas, for thy life Would I had lost my land. " O Christ ! my very heart doth bleed With sorrow for thy sake ; For sure, a more redoubted knight Mischance did never take.
Page 53 - Was with an arrow slain. 0 heavy news ! king James did say, Scotland can witness be, 1 have not any captain more Of such account as he.
Page 93 - How long shall fortune faile me nowe, And harrowe me with fear and dread ? How long shall I in bale abide, In misery my life to lead ? " To fall from my bliss, alas the while...
Page 67 - But the arrow bounded back agen. Then Horseley spyed a privye place With a perfect eye in a secrette part ; Under the spole of his right arme He smote Sir Andrew to the heart.
Page 33 - The fattiste hartes in all Chyviat We have kyld, and cast to carry them a-way : * Be my troth," sayd the doughte Dogglas agayn, " Ther-for the ton of us shall de this day.
Page 44 - The hunting of that day. The stout Earl of Northumberland, A vow to God did make, His pleasure in the Scottish woods Three summer's days to take; The chiefest harts in Chevy-Chase To kill and bear away.
Page 275 - Three daughters fair had he, So princely seeming beautiful, As fairer could not be. So on a time it pleas'd the king A question thus to move, Which of his daughters to his grace Could shew the dearest love : For to my age you bring content, Quoth he, then let me hear, Which of you three in plighted troth The kindest will appear.