#Scots #BalladesYRhymes
Of all the lords in faire Scotlan… A song I will begin: Amongst them all dwelled a lord Which was the unthrifty Lord of L… His father and mother were dead hi…
There was a knight and lady bright Set trysts amo the broom, The one to come at morning eav, The other at afternoon. ‘I’ll wager a wager wi’ you,' he s…
The hours are passing slow, I hear their weary tread Clang from the tower, and go Back to their kinsfolk dead. Sleep! death’s twin brother dread!
Dead—he is dead! The rouge has le… On that thin cheek where shone, pe… Even while the people laughed that… But yesterday. He died,—and not i… And many a black-robed caitiff sta…
I went to the mill, but the miller… I sat me down, and cried ochone! To think on the days that are past… Of Dickie Macphalion that’s slain… Shoo, shoo, shoolaroo,
As, to the pipe, with rhythmic fee… In windings of some old-world danc… The smiling couples cross and meet… Join hands, and then in line advan… So, to these fair old tunes of Fr…
There is a Heaven, or here, or th… A Heaven there is, for me and you… Where bargains meet for purses spa… Like ours, are not so far and few. Thuanus’ bees go humming through
Hither, come hither, ye Clouds re… Come, though ye dwell on the sacre… Or whether ye dance with the Nere… Or whether your golden urns are di… Or whether you dwell by Mæotis me…
Dark, dark was the day when we loo… And chill was the mist drop that c… The oats of the harvest hung heavy… No light on the land and no wind o… There was wind, there was rain, th…
DEAD, with their eyes to the foe… Dead, with the foe at their feet; Under the sky laid low Truly their slumber is sweet, Though the wind from the Camp of…
For thee soft crowns in thine untr… I wove, my lady, and to thee I be… Thither no shepherd drives his flo… Nor scythe of steel has ever labou… Nay, through the spring among the…
Oh, where are the endless Romance… Our grandmothers used to adore? The Knights with their helms and… Their shields and the favours they… And the Monks with their magical…
How Œdipous departed, who may tell Save Theseus only? for there neit… The burning bolt of thunder, and t… To blast him into nothing, nor the… Of sea-tide spurred by tempest on…
Fair islands of the silver fleece, Hoards of unsunned, uncounted gold… Whose havens are the haunts of Pe… Whose boys are in our quarrel bold… OUR bolt is shot, our tale is tol…
Our youth began with tears and sig… With seeking what we could not fin… Our verses all were threnodies, In elegiacs still we whined; Our ears were deaf, our eyes were…