What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Other editions - View all
againe ancient appear armes backe ballad beginning blood bride bright brought called castle Childe chivalry copy court daughter daye dead dear death doth downe dragon drinke Editor's England English entitled eyes face faire father fell fight folio France French gave Gawaine George give given gold gone hand hast hath head heare heart kind King Arthur kisse knight lady ladye land leave length lived lord maid mantle meet mother never noble original piece poem printed queene quoth romance rose round sayd sayes seems seen shee side song soon sore stanzas story sweet sword teares tell thee thing Thomas thou thought took true unto Waters wife wood written youth
Page 392 - TWAS at the silent solemn hour, When night and morning meet ; In glided Margaret's grimly ghost, And stood at William's feet. Her face was like an April morn, Clad in a wintry cloud : And clay-cold was her lily hand, That held her sable shrowd.
Page 397 - I hear a voice, you cannot hear, Which says, I must not stay; I see a hand, you cannot see, Which beckons me away.
Page 367 - St. George he was for England ; St. Dennis was for France ; Sing, Honi soit qui mal y pense.
Page 267 - Were footed in Queen 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 211 - He hath marks about him plenty; You shall know him among twenty. All his body is a fire, And his breath a flame entire. That, being shot like lightning in, Wounds the heart, but not the skin.
Page 265 - IN olde dayes of the king Artour, Of which that Bretons speken gret honour, All was this lond fulfilled of faerie; The Elf-quene, with hire joly compagnie, Danced ful oft in many a grene mede. This was the old opinion as I rede...
Page 246 - 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 176 - Allan." And slowly, slowly raise she up, And slowly, slowly left him, And sighing said, she could not stay, Since death of life had reft him. She had not gane a mile but twa, When she heard the dead-bell ringing, And every jow that the dead-bell geid, It cry'd, "Woe to Barbara Allan!