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Lays and legends of the north; and other poems and songs, humorous and grave, original and translated

Author David Grant
Publisher RareBooksClub.com
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Book Details
Author(s)David Grant
ISBN / ASIN1130089576
ISBN-139781130089578
Sales Rank99,999,999
MarketplaceUnited States 🇺🇸

Description

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1884 Excerpt: ...Hae made me dream that angel choirs Used aye my mither tongue. My mither tongue! a bairn at schule In English buiks I read; An' warsled sair wi' English facts To pang my laddie head. But when my heart was big wi' wae, Or lowin' love upsprung; My feelin's aye gushed out in thee, My couthie mither tongue! My mither tongue! how aft hae I My very meals forgot, While porin' o'er the wizard page O' Ramsay, Burns, or Scott! On 'Tam o' Shanter's ' midnicht ride, Or Hornbook's pranks I've hung; Rehearsed wi' matchless power in thee, My couthie mither tongue! My mither tongue! I daurna name The loves o' bygane years; It ill becomes a bearded man To blin' his een wi' tears. I daurna name the welcomes warm That roun' my heart hae clung, The sad fareweels expressed in thee, My couthie mither tongue! I daurna conjure up the spots Where cheerfu' childhood played, The broomy knowes, the fairy howes Where hopefu' manhood strayed. I daurna name departed frien's, Whase hands my hands hae wrung, An' poured their latest blessin's out In thee, my mither tongue! My mither tongue! some ca' ye rude, An' some hae wished ye dead; Ye winna dee, ye canna dee, Sae lang as Burns is read; An' that will be while warl's rin roun', An' suns in space are hung; While wisdom, wit, an' music live, Ye '11 live, my mither tongue! My mither tongue! ye '11 haud the grip While words hae power to teach, While human feelin's link themsel's To blithe or dowie speech;--While hopes an' fears, an' joys an' griefs, While loves are said or sung, Ye '11 haud the grip in spite o' a', My couthie mither tongue!--Till suns grow cauld, an' Natur's sel' Creeps feckless o'er a rung, Ye winna dee, ye canna dee, Dear Scotia's magic tongue! THE LAND O' CAKES. (GIVEN AT A SOCIAL GATHERING OF SCOTCHMEN IN ENGLAND, IN CON...