Reliques of Ancient English Poetry: Consisting of Old Heroic Ballads, Songs, and Other Pieces of Our Earlier Poets; Together with Some Few of Later Date, Volume 3F.C. and J. Rivington, 1812 - Ballads, English |
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Page 22
... maid Ellen , and the dwarf , renew their journey : they see a castle stuck round with human heads ; and are informed it belongs to a knight called Sir Gefferon , who , in honour of his lemman or mistress , challenges all comers : he ...
... maid Ellen , and the dwarf , renew their journey : they see a castle stuck round with human heads ; and are informed it belongs to a knight called Sir Gefferon , who , in honour of his lemman or mistress , challenges all comers : he ...
Page 23
... Maid Ellen by chance gets an opportunity of speak- ing to him ; and upbraids him with his vice and folly : he is filled with remorse , and escapes the same evening . At length he arrives at the city and castle of Sinadone : Is given to ...
... Maid Ellen by chance gets an opportunity of speak- ing to him ; and upbraids him with his vice and folly : he is filled with remorse , and escapes the same evening . At length he arrives at the city and castle of Sinadone : Is given to ...
Page 117
... maid , Ile give the same to thee ; Go , seeke thee another love . O Ile have none of your gold , she sayde , Nor Ile have none of your fee ; But your faire bodye I must have , The king hath granted mee . 45 50 53 55 60 Ver . 50. His ...
... maid , Ile give the same to thee ; Go , seeke thee another love . O Ile have none of your gold , she sayde , Nor Ile have none of your fee ; But your faire bodye I must have , The king hath granted mee . 45 50 53 55 60 Ver . 50. His ...
Page 170
... maid dwellin , Made every youth crye , Wel - awaye ! Her name was Barbara Allen . All in the merrye month of May , When greene buds they were swellin , Yong Jemmye Grove on his death - bed lay , For love of Barbara Allen . He sent his ...
... maid dwellin , Made every youth crye , Wel - awaye ! Her name was Barbara Allen . All in the merrye month of May , When greene buds they were swellin , Yong Jemmye Grove on his death - bed lay , For love of Barbara Allen . He sent his ...
Page 171
... maid , come pity mee , Ime on my deth - bed lying . If on your death - bed you doe lye , What needs the tale you are tellin ; I cannot keep you from your death 1 ; Farewell , sayd Barbara Allen . He turnd his face unto the wall , As ...
... maid , come pity mee , Ime on my deth - bed lying . If on your death - bed you doe lye , What needs the tale you are tellin ; I cannot keep you from your death 1 ; Farewell , sayd Barbara Allen . He turnd his face unto the wall , As ...
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Common terms and phrases
ancient awaye ballad Barbara Allen Bevis black-letter bower brest bride bright castle Childe Waters Chivalry clubb Cotton Library dame daughter daye deare death distichs doth dragon Editor's folio Ellen eyes fair Annet Fairies father fell foot-page France French gentle George Gill Morice gold grone Guenever gyant hand hart hast hath head heart Honi soit intitled King Arthur kisse knight lady ladye land Library litle little Musgrave lord Barnard lord Thomas maid mantle manye Margret merry miller Mordred never noble old Romance Pepys Collection poem Poetry praye prince printed copy queene quoth quoth hee sayd sayes shee shew shold sir Gawaine Sir Kay Sir Lybius song sonne sore stanzas steede story sweet William sword tale teares tell thee thou true love unkle unto Whan wife WITCH wold zour
Popular passages
Page 254 - When in one night, ere glimpse of morn, His shadowy flail hath threshed the corn That ten day-labourers could not end ; Then lies him down the lubber fiend, And, stretched out all the chimney's length, Basks at the fire his hairy strength, And crop-full out of doors he flings, Ere the first cock his matin rings.
Page 219 - Still to be neat, still to be drest, As you were going to a feast; Still to be powdered, still perfumed: Lady, it is to be presumed, Though art's hid causes are not found, All is not sweet, all is not sound. Give me a look, give me a face, That makes simplicity a grace; Robes loosely flowing, hair as free; Such sweet neglect more taketh me Than all th...
Page 126 - At cards for kisses — Cupid paid ; He stakes his quiver, bow and arrows, His mother's doves, and team of sparrows ; Loses them too ; then down he throws The coral of his lip, the rose Growing on's cheek (but none knows how) ; With these, the crystal of his brow, And then the dimple of his chin : All these did my Campaspe win. At last he set her both his eyes, She won, and Cupid blind did rise. O Love ! has she done this to thee ? What shall, alas ! become of me...
Page 393 - So shall the fairest face appear When youth and years are flown; Such is the robe that kings must wear When death has reft their crown.
Page 302 - HE that loves a rosy Cheek, Or a coral Lip admires ; Or from star-like Eyes doth seek Fuel to maintain his fires : As old Time makes these decay, So his flames must waste away ! But a smooth and steadfast Mind, Gentle Thoughts, and calm Desires, Hearts with equal love combined, Kindle never-dying fires ! Where these are not ; I despise Lovely Cheeks ! or Lips ! or Eyes...
Page 337 - 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 243 - Think what with them they would do That without them dare to woo ; And unless that mind I see, What care I how great she be ? Great, or good, or kind, or fair, I will ne'er the more despair: If she love me, this believe, I will die ere she shall grieve : If she slight me when I woo, I can scorn and let her go ; For if she be not for me, What care I for whom she be ? George Wither.
Page 265 - Mary's days On many a grassy plain. But since of late Elizabeth, And, later, James came in, They never danced on any heath, As when the time hath bin.
Page 126 - ... paid; He stakes his quiver, bow and arrows, His mother's doves, and team of sparrows; Loses them too; then down he throws The coral of his lip, the rose Growing on's cheek (but none knows how), With these, the crystal of his brow, And then the dimple of his chin; All these did my Campaspe win. At last he set her both his eyes, She won, and Cupid blind did rise. O Love! has she done this to thee? What shall, alas! become of me? THE SONGS OF BIRDS What bird so sings, yet so does wail? O 'tis the...