The Jacobite Relics of Scotland: Being the Songs, Airs, and Legends, of the Adherents to the House of StuartJames Hogg W. Blackwood, 1819 - 424 pagine |
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The Jacobite Relics of Scotland; Being the Songs, Airs and Legends ..., Volume 1 Visualizzazione completa - 1874 |
The Jacobite Relics of Scotland: Being the Songs, Airs, and ..., Volume 1 James Hogg Visualizzazione completa - 1819 |
The Jacobite Relics of Scotland: Being the Songs, Airs and Legends ..., Volume 1 Visualizzazione completa - 1874 |
Parole e frasi comuni
army auld battle blood bonny boys brave cause church clans Clavers coming Covenanters crown curs'd damn'd deil deny devil Donald Macgillavry drink duke duke of Albany e'er earl England foes frae France friends gentlemen Geordie George give up Spain Glengary glorious Gordon Gunpowder Plot hame hand Hanover haughs of Cromdale head Here's a health hero High-church Highlanders hone honest honour Jacobite Killicrankie King James King shall enjoy lads Libera Lord loyal M'Intosh maun Montrose nation ne'er never o'er Old Cause old Sir Simon Papists parliament party peace plot Popish Pretender prince Protestant Queen Anne raree show rebels reign rent and torn rogues royal royal oak tree Scotland Scots Scottish sham sing song Stuarts sung swear sword There's thing thou throne Titus Tories traitors true TUNE Twas Tyburn Whiggish Whigs Whilst
Brani popolari
Pagina 265 - ... if she survived him, and it were possible for the departed to return to this world, he would make her a visit. The duchess on his death so much expected the accomplishment of that engagement, that a large raven, or some black fowl, flying into one of the windows of her villa at Isleworth, she was persuaded it was the soul of her departed monarch so accoutred, and received and treated it with' all the respect and tenderness of duty, till the royal bird or she took their last flight.
Pagina 138 - Gentiles squabble. Here crafty courtiers are too wise For those who trust to fortune; They see the cheat with clearer eyes, Who peep behind the curtain, 3. Our greatest ladies hither come, And ply in chariots daily ; Oft pawn their jewels for a sum, To venture in the Alley.
Pagina 134 - t wi' the blude of usurping tyrannie, An' green it will grow in my ain countree. O, there's nocht now frae ruin my country can save, But the keys o' kind heaven, to open the grave ; That a' the noble martyrs wha died for loyaltie May rise again an' fight for their ain countree.
Pagina 25 - The sodger from the wars returns, The sailor frae the main ; But I hae parted frae my love, Never to meet again, My dear ; Never to meet again. W'hen day is gane, and night is come, And a...
Pagina 16 - The name of Lord shall be abhorr'd, For every man's a brother ; No reason why, in church or state, One man should rule another. But when the change of government Shall set our fingers free, We'll make the wanton sisters stoop, And, hey, then, up go we.
Pagina 25 - IT was a' for our rightfu' King We left fair Scotland's strand; It was a' for our rightfu' King We e'er saw Irish land, My dear — We e'er saw Irish land. Now a' is done that men can do, And a...
Pagina 186 - ... nigh my heart as yours. It grieves me beyond what I can express, to see so many brave and worthy gentlemen, who had once the prospect of being the chief officers in my army, reduced to the stations of private sentinels.
Pagina 15 - Where learning is profest, Because they practise and maintain The language of the Beast ; We'll drive the doctors out of doors And parts whate'er they be ; We'll cry all arts and learning down, And hey, then, up go we.
Pagina 45 - I will sing a rantin sang, That day our king comes o'er the water. O gin I live to see the day, That I hae begg'd, and begg'd frae Heaven, I'll fling my rock and reel away, And dance and sing frae morn till even. For there is ane I winna name, That comes the beingin bike to scatter ; And I'll put on my bridal gown, That day our king comes o'er the water. I hae seen the gude auld day, The day o' pride and chieftain glory, When royal Stuarts bare the sway, And ne'er heard tell o
Pagina 83 - And he's brought fouth o' foreign trash, And dibbled them in his yardie. He's pu'd the rose o' English loons, And broken the harp o' Irish clowns ; But our thistle taps will jag his thumbs — This wee, wee German lairdie.