The Poetical Works of Sir Walter Scott, Baronet, Volume 3

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A. Constable, 1821 - English poetry
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Page 46 - There lived a wife at Usher's Well, And a wealthy wife was she; She had three stout and stalwart sons, And sent them oer the sea. They hadna been a week from her, A week but barely ane, When word came to the carline wife That her three sons were gane. They hadna been a week from her, A week but barely three, I0 When word came to the carlin wife That her sons she'd never see. "I wish the wind may never cease, Nor fashes in the flood, Till my three sons come hame to me, 's In earthly flesh and blood.
Page 238 - And many a word that warlike lord Did speak to my lady there ; But the rain fell fast, and loud blew the blast, And I heard not what they were. 'The third night there the sky was fair, And the mountain-blast was still, As again I watched the secret pair, On the lonesome Beacon Hill.
Page 48 - Blow up the fire, my maidens! Bring water from the well! For a' my house shall feast this night. Since my three sons are well.
Page 179 - TRUE THOMAS lay on Huntlie bank ; A ferlie he spied wi' his ee ; And there he saw a ladye bright, Come riding down by the Eildon tree. Her shirt was o' the grass-green silk, Her mantle o' the velvet fyne ; At ilka tett of her horse's mane, Hung fifty siller bells and nine.
Page 242 - Now hail, now hail, thou lady bright ! ' ' Now hail, thou baron true ! What news, what news, from Ancram fight ? What news from the bold Buccleuch ! ' ' The Ancram moor is red with gore, For many a Southern fell; And Buccleuch has charged us evermore To watch our beacons well.
Page 419 - ... Hamilton of Bothwellhaugh was the person who committed this barbarous action. He had been condemned to death soon after the battle of Langside, as we have already related, and owed his life to the Regent's clemency. But part of his estate had been bestowed upon one of the Regent's favourites, who seized his house, and turned out his wife, naked, in a cold night, into the open fields, where, before next morning, she became furiously mad.
Page 134 - Dool and wae for the order, sent our lads to the border! The English, for ance, by guile wan the day: The flowers of the forest, that fought aye the foremost, The prime of our land, are cauld in the clay. We'll hear nae mair lilting, at the ewe milking; Women and bairns are heartless and wae : Sighing and moaning, on ilka green loaning — The flowers of the forest are a
Page 473 - Or footstep of invader rude, With rapine foul, and red with blood, Pollute our happy shore, — Then farewell home ! and farewell friends ! Adieu each tender tie ! Resolved, we mingle in the tide, Where charging squadrons furious ride, To conquer or to die.
Page 57 - He gae me a lock o' his yellow hair, And bade me keep it ever mair ; He gae me a carknet o' bonny beads, And bade me keep it against my needs. " He gae to me a gay gold ring, And bade me keep it abune a' thing."—
Page 239 - Though the blood-hound be mute, and the rush beneath my foot, And the warder his bugle should not blow, Yet there sleepeth a priest in the chamber to the east, And my footstep he would know.

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