The book of popular songs, ed. by J.E. CarpenterG. Routledge & Company, 1858 - 275 pages |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 47
Page 5
... poor the dome , Love still retains some deathless chains To bind the heart to home . " The young Italian spoke with rapture of the blue and bright skies of his native land : he talked with fervour of the balmy air and blooming flowers ...
... poor the dome , Love still retains some deathless chains To bind the heart to home . " The young Italian spoke with rapture of the blue and bright skies of his native land : he talked with fervour of the balmy air and blooming flowers ...
Page 11
... poor Tom to an earth " made for rest ; His horse , which he styled his Old Soul , next appear'd On whose forehead the brush of his last fox was rear'd , Whip , cap , boots , and spurs , in a trophy were bound , And here and there follow ...
... poor Tom to an earth " made for rest ; His horse , which he styled his Old Soul , next appear'd On whose forehead the brush of his last fox was rear'd , Whip , cap , boots , and spurs , in a trophy were bound , And here and there follow ...
Page 13
... poor devoted bark , Till next day there she lay , In the Bay of Biscay , O ! Now dash'd upon the billow , Her opening timbers creak ; Each fears a wat'ry pillow , - None stop the dreadful leak ; To cling to slipp'ry shrouds Each ...
... poor devoted bark , Till next day there she lay , In the Bay of Biscay , O ! Now dash'd upon the billow , Her opening timbers creak ; Each fears a wat'ry pillow , - None stop the dreadful leak ; To cling to slipp'ry shrouds Each ...
Page 17
... poor- Where the miller - God bless him ! -oft gave us a dance , And led off the ball with his soul in his glance . The mill is in ruins , no welcoming sound In the mastiff's quick bark , and the wheels dashing round . The house , too ...
... poor- Where the miller - God bless him ! -oft gave us a dance , And led off the ball with his soul in his glance . The mill is in ruins , no welcoming sound In the mastiff's quick bark , and the wheels dashing round . The house , too ...
Page 21
... poor beauty is left behind ! While the small birds sing in their own true words , " " Tis not fine feathers make fine birds ! " THE MUSIC OF THE MILL . J. E. CARPENTER . ] [ Music by C. W. GLOVER . As Jeannie came from market , The rain ...
... poor beauty is left behind ! While the small birds sing in their own true words , " " Tis not fine feathers make fine birds ! " THE MUSIC OF THE MILL . J. E. CARPENTER . ] [ Music by C. W. GLOVER . As Jeannie came from market , The rain ...
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Common terms and phrases
Allen-a-Dale beauty bells bird BLOCKLEY bloom blossom blows bold bonnie bower boys brave breath bright Briton's home brow cheer child cold County Guy crazy Jane deep dream earth ELIZA COOK England Erin go bragh ev'ry eyes fair farewell flowers forget Gaffer Green gaily gentle GLOVER hand happy hath heart Hearts of oak heaven Here's a health hope J. E. CARPENTER kiss land life's light lips live lonely love thee maid merry morning mother mountain Music by H Music by J. P. Nancy ne'er never night o'er ocean peace poor pride Queen R. B. SHERIDAN Ring roam Robin and Marian Savourneen sigh sing sleep smile song sorrow soul SPORLE spring star Suabian summer sunshine sweet tears tell There's thine thou thousand a-year tree true Twas twill vale voice waves wild wind wine
Popular passages
Page 140 - Woodman, spare that tree ! Touch not a single bough ! In youth it sheltered me, And I'll protect it now. 'Twas my forefather's hand That placed it near his cot; There, woodman, let it stand, Thy axe shall harm it not. That old familiar tree, Whose glory and renown Are spread o'er land and sea — And wouldst thou hew it down? Woodman, forbear thy stroke! Cut not its earth-bound ties...
Page 118 - THERE is a Reaper, whose name is Death, And, with his sickle keen, He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, And the flowers that grow between.
Page 14 - Go, lovely Rose ! Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied, That had'st thou sprung In deserts where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired : Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired.
Page 229 - ON Linden when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow; And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight When the drum beat at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery.
Page 174 - Guid faith he mauna fa' that. For a' that, and a' that, Their dignities, and a' that ; The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth, Are higher rank than a that. Then let us pray that come it may, As come it will for a' that ; That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth, May bear the gree, and a' that. For a
Page 202 - I SHOT an arrow into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where; For, so swiftly it flew, the sight Could not follow it in its flight. I breathed a song into the air, It fell to earth, 1 knew not where ; For who has sight so keen and strong.
Page 50 - When lovely woman stoops to folly, And finds too late that men betray ; What charm can soothe her melancholy, What art can wash her guilt away ? The only art her guilt to cover, To hide her shame from every eye, To give repentance to her lover, And wring his bosom — is to die.
Page 96 - It sounds to him like her mother's voice, Singing in Paradise! He needs must think of her once more, How in the grave she lies; And with his hard, rough hand he wipes A tear out of his eyes. Toiling— rejoicing— sorrowing, Onward through life he goes; Each morning sees some task begin, Each evening sees it close; Something attempted, something done, Has earned a night's repose.
Page 107 - Dark lowers the tempest overhead, The roaring torrent is deep and wide ! " And loud that clarion voice replied, Excelsior ! " 0 stay," the maiden said, " and rest Thy weary head upon this breast...
Page 96 - His hair is crisp, and black, and long, His face is like the tan ; His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns whate'er he can, And looks the whole world in the face, For he owes not any man.