English and Scottish Ballads, Volumen7

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Francis James Child
Little, Brown, 1860

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Página 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.
Página 52 - Rabby there was slain, Whose prowess did surmount. For Witherington needs must I wail, As one in doleful dumps ; For when his legs were smitten off, He fought upon his stumps.
Página 45 - Lo, yonder doth Earl Douglas come, His men in armour bright ; Full twenty hundred Scottish spears All marching in our sight ; All men of pleasant Teviotdale, Fast by the river Tweed...
Página 276 - The True Chronicle History of King Leir and his three Daughters, Gonorill, Ragan, and Cordelia. As it hath been diuers and sundry times lately acted.
Página 49 - With that, there came an arrow keen Out of an English bow, Which struck Earl Douglas to the heart, A deep and deadly blow ; Who never spake more words than these, " Fight on, my merry men all ; For why, my life is at an end, Lord Percy sees my fall.
Página 29 - And all that ever with him be. The fattiste hartes in all Cheviat He sayd he wold kill, and cary them away : " Be my feth," sayd the dougheti Doglas agayn, " I wyll let that hontyng yf that I may.
Página 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...
Página 281 - Grew frantick mad ; for in his mind He bore the wounds of woe : Which made him rend his milk-white locks, And tresses from his head. And all with blood bestain his cheeks, With age and honour spread...
Página 117 - With courage fierce and fell, He will not give one inch of way For all the devils in hell.
Página 23 - When Percy wi' the Douglas met I wat he was fu' fain: They swakked their swords till sair they swat, And the blood ran down like rain.

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