The Pictorial Book of Ancient Ballad Poetry of Great Britain: Historical, Traditional and Romantic: to which are Added, a Selection of Modern Imitations and Some TranslationsJoseph S. Moore H. Washbourne & Company, 1853 - 871 páginas |
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Página 19
... sore , Get the a man where thou wilt Robyn , For thou getes me no more . Then Robyn goes to Notyngham Hymselfe mornynge allone , And litulle Johne to mery Scherewode , The pathes he knowe alkone . Whan Robyn came to Notyngham , Sertenly ...
... sore , Get the a man where thou wilt Robyn , For thou getes me no more . Then Robyn goes to Notyngham Hymselfe mornynge allone , And litulle Johne to mery Scherewode , The pathes he knowe alkone . Whan Robyn came to Notyngham , Sertenly ...
Página 22
... lete hym falle on his crowne . Litulle John was sore agrevyd , And drew out his swerde in hye . The munke saw he shulde be ded He was my maister , seid litulle Johne , That 22 22 Lowd mercy can he crye . ROBIN HOOD AND THE MONK .
... lete hym falle on his crowne . Litulle John was sore agrevyd , And drew out his swerde in hye . The munke saw he shulde be ded He was my maister , seid litulle Johne , That 22 22 Lowd mercy can he crye . ROBIN HOOD AND THE MONK .
Página 23
... sore to see . Wher is the munke that these shuld haue browzt , Oure kynge can say , Be my trouthe , seid litulle Jone , He dyed aftur the way . The kyng gaf Moche and litul Jon XX pound in sertan , And made theim zemen of the crowne ...
... sore to see . Wher is the munke that these shuld haue browzt , Oure kynge can say , Be my trouthe , seid litulle Jone , He dyed aftur the way . The kyng gaf Moche and litul Jon XX pound in sertan , And made theim zemen of the crowne ...
Página 46
... sore , The abbot and hys meynè : ' But he come this ylke day Dysheryte shall he be . ' He wyll not come yet , ' sayd the justyce , ' I dare well undertake . ' But in sorowe tyme for them all The knyght came to the gate . Than bespake ...
... sore , The abbot and hys meynè : ' But he come this ylke day Dysheryte shall he be . ' He wyll not come yet , ' sayd the justyce , ' I dare well undertake . ' But in sorowe tyme for them all The knyght came to the gate . Than bespake ...
Página 53
... sore togyder , Two myle way and more , Myght neyther other harme done , The mountenaunce of an houre . ' I make myn avowe to god , ' sayd Lytell Johan , ' And be my trewe lewtè , Thou art one of the best swerdemen , That ever yet sawe I ...
... sore togyder , Two myle way and more , Myght neyther other harme done , The mountenaunce of an houre . ' I make myn avowe to god , ' sayd Lytell Johan , ' And be my trewe lewtè , Thou art one of the best swerdemen , That ever yet sawe I ...
Outras edições - Ver tudo
The Pictorial Book of Ancient Ballad Poetry of Great Britain: Historical ... Joseph S. Moore Visualização integral - 1853 |
The Pictorial Book of Ancient Ballad Poetry of Great Britain, Historical ... J. S. Moore Visualização integral - 1853 |
The Pictorial Book of Ancient Ballad Poetry of Great Britain ..., Volume 1 Joseph Scott Moore Visualização integral - 1853 |
Palavras e frases frequentes
abbot agayne anon awaye ballad beggar blood castle Catskin Childe Maurice daughter daye dear dere doth Earle Ettricke Foreste fair fast father fayre fear fight Foreste frae gentle gentyll knyght gold green grene wode grete hand hast hath heart heire of Linne Humphrey king knight kynge lady ladye land Little John litulle lord Lytell Johan merry mery Moche monke myght ne'er never noble Notyngham o'er Outlaw Percy Percy Society potter pounde pray pretty Bessee proud sheryf queen quoth Ritson Roben Robin Hood Robyn Hode sayd Robyn saye Scadlock screffe seid seyde shee sholde Sir John Savage Sir William Stanley soon sore sweet sword tell thee ther theyr thou art thou shalt thow thre toke tree Twas unto Whan wolde wyfe wyll yemen young
Passagens conhecidas
Página 688 - Are those her ribs through which the Sun Did peer, as through a grate? And is that Woman all her crew? Is that a DEATH? and are there two? Is DEATH that woman's mate?
Página 699 - I pass, like night, from land to land ; I have strange power of speech ; That moment that his face I see, I know the man that must hear me : To him my tale I teach.
Página 697 - How loudly his sweet voice he rears! He loves to talk with marineres That come from a far countree. He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve — He hath a cushion plump. It is the moss that wholly hides The rotted old oak-stump. The skiff- boat neared: I heard them talk, "Why, this is strange, I trow! Where are those lights so many and fair, That signal made but now?
Página 684 - He holds him with his glittering eye The Wedding-Guest stood still, And listens like a three years' child: The Mariner hath his will. The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone: He cannot choose but hear; And thus spake on that ancient man, The bright-eyed Mariner.
Página 685 - He struck with his o'ertaking wings, And chased us south along. With sloping masts and dipping prow, As who pursued with yell and blow Still treads the shadow of his foe, And forward bends his head, The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast, And southward aye we fled. And now there came both mist and snow, And it grew wondrous cold; And ice, mast-high, came floating by, As green as emerald...
Página 690 - I looked to heaven, and tried to pray; But or ever a prayer had gusht, A wicked whisper came, and made My heart as dry as dust.
Página 592 - But yet his horse was not a whit Inclined to tarry there ! For why ? — his owner had a house Full ten miles off, at Ware. So like an arrow swift he flew, Shot by an archer strong ; So did he fly — which brings me to The middle of my song. Away went Gilpin, out of breath, And sore against his will, Till at his friend the calender's His horse at last stood still.
Página 686 - All in a hot and copper sky, The bloody Sun, at noon, Right up above the mast did stand, No bigger than the Moon. Day after day, day after day, We stuck, nor breath nor motion; As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean.
Página 692 - They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose, Nor spake, nor moved their eyes; It had been strange, even in a dream, To have seen those dead men rise.
Página 684 - By thy long grey beard and glittering eye, Now wherefore stopp'st thou me? 'The Bridegroom's doors are opened wide, And I am next of kin; The guests are met, the feast is set: May'st hear the merry din.