Old English BalladsFrancis Barton Gummere Ginn, 1894 - 380 pages |
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Common terms and phrases
abbot artist ballad bespake Böhme bonny Cheviot Child Maurice Child Waters communal criticism dance dere English epos Fair Fair Annie Fair Janet fayre Ffor frae gentyll knyght German Gest gode grene-wode grete Grimm hast hath Herder Hind Horn Jacob Grimm Johnn king kynge Lady Maisry Litell Litull John Lord Lord Randal lyric Lytell Johan mayster mery minstrel monke mother Müllenhoff myght narrative never Notyngham origin Otterburn Percy Percy Folio Persë phrase poems poet poetic poetry popular primitive Professor Child refrain rime Robin Hood Robyn Hode sayd Robyn sayd the knyght sayes says seid Litull sherif singer singing Sir Andrew slayne song soth stanza steed stode sung taen Tam Lin tell thee ther thou thre toke tradition Twa Sisters verse Whan wolde word wyll YOUNG BEICHAN Young Hunting
Popular passages
Page 123 - Where be ye gaun, ye broken men ?' Quo' fause Sakelde ; ' come tell to me !' Now Dickie of Dryhope led that band, And the never a word o' lear had he. ' Why trespass ye on the English side ? Row-footed outlaws, stand!' quo' he; The never a word had Dickie to say, Sae he thrust the lance through his fause bodie.
Page 123 - And when we left the Staneshaw-bank, The wind began full loud to blaw, But 'twas wind and weet, and fire and sleet, When we came beneath the castle wa'.
Page 172 - O where hae ye been, my handsome young man?" "I hae been to the wild wood; mother, make my bed soon, For I'm weary wi hunting, and fain wald lie down." "Where gat ye your dinner, Lord Randal, my son? Where gat ye your dinner, my handsome, young man?
Page 149 - Late late yestreen I saw the new moone, Wi the auld moone in hir arme, And I feir, I feir, my deir master, That we will cum to harme.
Page 354 - she said, " For your strokes they are wondrous sair ; True lovers I can get many a ane, But a father I can never get mair.
Page 172 - OI fear ye are poisond, Lord Randal, my son! OI fear ye are poisond, my handsome young man! " " O yes! I am poisond; mother, make my bed soon, For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wald lie down.
Page 148 - The first line that Sir Patrick red, A loud lauch lauched he; The next line that Sir Patrick red, The teir blinded his ee. "O wha is this has don this deid, This ill deid don to me, To send me out this time o' the yeir, To sail upon the se!
Page 169 - And first came out the thick, thick blood, And syne came out the thin, And syne came out the bonny heart's blood ; There was nae mair within. She's rowd him in a cake o lead, Bade him lie still and sleep ; She's thrown him in Our Lady's draw-well, Was fifty fathom deep. When bells were rung, and mass was sung, And a' the bairns came hame, When every lady gat hame her son, The Lady Maisry gat nane.
Page 149 - Wi thair gold kems in their hair, Waiting for thair ain deir lords, For they'll se thame na mair. Haf owre, haf owre to Aberdour, It's fiftie fadom deip, And thair lies guid Sir Patrick Spence, Wi the Scots lords at his feit.
Page 350 - Tis I, my love, sits on your grave, And will not let you sleep; For I crave one kiss of your clay-cold lips, And that is all I seek.