Reliques of Ancient English Poetry: Consisting of Old Heroic Ballads, Songs and Other Pieces of the Earlier Poets, with Some of Later Date, Not Included in Any Other Ed. to which is Now Added a Supplement of Many Curious Historical and Narrative Ballads, Reprinted from Rare Copies with a Copious Glossary and Notes
F. Bell, 1860 - Ballads, English - 558 pages
What people are saying - Write a review
LibraryThing ReviewUser Review - antiquary - LibraryThing
A very famous collection that contributed largely to the fashion for balads and ultimately t the Romantic movement. It is a mixed bag, some genuinely early, some not, but important for its influence. Read full review
Other editions - View all
Adam Bell ancient arrow awaye ballad barons bonny bride called castle Childe Waters copy Cotton Library daughter daye dear death doth Douglas dragon Earl edition Editor Editor's folio England English fair fast father Fause Foodrage fayre fell frae gallant Gawaine gentle gold gude hand hart hast hath heart heire of Linne Henry honour John King Arthur knight kyng lady ladye land live Lord maid Mary Ambree Minstrels never noble Northumberland Percy play poem poet praye prince printed Queen quoth reign Robin Robin Hood romance sayd sayes Scotland Scots Scottish shee shold Sing Sir Aldingar slain sone song sonnes stanzas steed sweet sword tell thee ther thou art thou shalt unto whan wife willow wold word writers wyfe wyll wyth youth
Page 493 - One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, When they reached the hall door, and the charger stood near; So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung, So light to the saddle before her he sprung ! — "She is won ! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur ! They'll have fleet steeds that follow !
Page 409 - TELL me not, Sweet, I am unkind That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind, To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field ; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you too shall adore; I could not love thee, Dear, so much, Loved I not Honour more.
Page 162 - Who God doth late and early pray, More of his grace than gifts to lend, And entertains the harmless day, With a religious book or friend. This man is freed from servile bands Of hope to rise, or fear to fall ; Lord of himself, though not of lands, And having nothing, yet hath all.
Page 493 - Twere better by far, To have malcli'd our fair cousin with young Lochinvar." One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, When they reach'd the hall door, and the charger stood near, So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung, So light to the saddle before her he sprung! " She is won ! we aie gone, over bank, bush, and scaur; They'll have fleet steeds that follow!
Page xx - ... or else by blind harpers or such like taverne minstrels that give a fit of mirth for a groat, and their matters being for the most part stories of old time, as the tale of sir Topas, the reportes of Bevis of Southampton, Guy of Warwicke, Adam Bell, and Clymme of the Clough, and such other old romances or historicall rimes, made purposely for recreation of the common people at christmasse diners and brideales, and in tavernes and alehouses, and such other places of base resort.
Page 51 - I never heard the old song of Percy and Douglas that I found not my heart moved more than with a trumpet...
Page 146 - Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill: But their strong nerves at last must yield; They tame but one another still: Early or late They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath, When they, pale captives, creep to death. The garlands wither on your brow, Then boast no more your mighty deeds; Upon Death's purple altar now See, where the victor-victim bleeds: Your heads must come To the cold tomb; Only the actions of the just Smell sweet, and blossom...
Page 128 - Come live with me, and be my love. And we will some new pleasures prove Of golden sands, and crystal brooks, With silken lines, and silver hooks.
Page 286 - Enlarged winds, that curl the flood, Know no such liberty. Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage; Minds innocent and quiet take That for an hermitage; If I have freedom in my love And in my soul am free, Angels alone, that soar above, Enjoy such liberty.