The British minstrel; A choice collection of modern songs. 2 pt. [in 1 vol. With a general title-leaf The British minstrel, a choice collection of popular songs].

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1848
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Trang 17 - HERON'S SONG. O, young Lochinvar is come out of the west, Through all the wide Border his steed was the best, And save his good broadsword he weapons had none ; He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone. So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.
Trang 60 - Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine.
Trang 17 - So stately his form, and so lovely her face, That never a hall such a galliard did grace; While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume; And the...
Trang 189 - As fair art thou, my bonie lass, So deep in luve am I : And I will luve thee still, my dear, Till a' the seas gang dry. Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt wi' the sun : I will luve thee still, my dear, While the sands o
Trang 173 - Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory; We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory.
Trang 18 - 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,
Trang 190 - Our song and feast shall flow To the fame of your name, When the storm has ceased to blow!
Trang 105 - I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine...
Trang 172 - Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning ; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast...
Trang 187 - O' my sweet Highland Mary. How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk, How rich the hawthorn's blossom, As underneath, their fragrant shade, I clasp'd her to my bosom! The golden hours, on angel wings, Flew o'er me and my dearie; For dear to me, as light and life, Was my sweet Highland Mary. Wi' mony a vow, and lock'd embrace, Our parting was fu...

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