St Cecilia: Or, the British Songster. A New and Select Collection of the Best Scots and English Songs. Many of which Never Before in Print

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Campbell Denovan, 1782 - Всего страниц: 324

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Стр. 320 - Busy, curious, thirsty fly, Drink with me, and drink as I ; Freely welcome to my cup, Couldst thou sip and sip it up. Make the most of life you may ; Life is short, and wears away. " Both alike are mine and thine, Hastening quick to their decline ; Thine's a summer, mine no more, Though repeated to threescore ; Threescore summers, when they're gone, Will appear as short as one.
Стр. 266 - The solemn boding sound, And thus in dying words bespoke The virgins weeping round...
Стр. 51 - And I will make thee beds of roses And a thousand fragrant posies, A cap of flowers, and a kirtle Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle...
Стр. 52 - The rest complains of cares to come. The flowers do fade, and wanton fields To wayward Winter reckoning yields: A honey tongue, a heart of gall, Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall. Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle...
Стр. 267 - Nor think him all thy own. To-morrow, in the church to wed, Impatient, both prepare ! But know, fond maid ; and know, false man, That Lucy will be there!
Стр. 200 - My father urged me sair: my mother didna speak; But she look'd in my face till my heart was like to break: They gie'd him my hand, tho' my heart was in the sea; Sae auld Robin Gray he was gudeman to me. I hadna been a wife a week but only four, When mournfu...
Стр. 52 - Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies, Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten ; In folly ripe, in reason rotten. Thy belt of straw, and ivy buds, Thy coral clasps, and amber studs, All these in me no means can move To come to thee, and be thy love.
Стр. 183 - Tis pride puts a' the country down, Sae tak thy auld cloak about thee. Every land has its ain laugh, Ilk kind of corn it has its hool ; I think the warld is a' run wrang, When ilka wife her man wad rule.
Стр. 144 - Susan, Susan, lovely dear, My vows shall ever true remain ; Let me kiss off that falling tear ; We only part to meet again. Change as ye list, ye winds ; my heart shall be The faithful compass that still points to thee.
Стр. 108 - Jeany's face May caufe mae men to rue, And that may gar me fay, alas ! But what's that to you ? Conceal thy beauties if thou can, Hide that fweet face of thine, That I may only be the man Enjoys thefe looks divine. O do not proftitute, my dear, Wonders to common view, And I with faithful heart fhall fwear, For ever to be true.

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