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Autres éditions - Tout afficher
APPENDIX ballad bard BARON bartizan battle Bazvalan beggars biniou Blois blood Breton Breton ballads bride bright Brittany busk thee called castle Celtic Chouan church CLERK OF ROHAN Cornouaille dame dance dead dear death deomp destrier Di-ga Elliant eyes fain fair Fantik fast father fire flowers FYTTE Gauls gentle girl gold gold penny Gradlon Gwenc'hlan hair hand hath ta'en head heard heart horse Is't Jean de Montfort Kaer-Is knee ladye leper light Lord Gwesklen maiden marriage menhirs merry MESSENGER morn mother ne'er never night nightingale Nomenoe o'er oann peasant Pontorson pray pretty Quimper recitation ride ring rode ROHAN round Saxon silver Silvestik sing song sore soul squire stept sung sweet sword Taliesin tell thine thou Ti-ra tramp Treguier trow Twas unto Vannes Villemarque warder wedding ween wife wine word young
Page 91 - Therefore the land mourns, and all who dwell in it languish, and also the beasts of the field, and the birds of the air; and even the fish of the sea are taken away.
Page vi - In many parishes the cur^ himself goes in procession with banner and cross to light the sacred fire. A brand from it is preserved with reverence : placed between a branch of box blessed on Palm Sunday, and a piece of the Twelfth-night cake, it is supposed to preserve the cottage from evil by thunder.
Page 14 - She threw herself on her knees amain, And from her knees ne'er rose again. That night they laid her, dead and cold, Beside her lord, beneath the mould ; When, lo ! — a marvel to behold ! — Next morn from the grave two oak-trees fair, Shot lusty boughs high up in air ; And in their boughs — oh, wondrous sight '— Two happy doves, all snowy white — That sang, as ever the morn did rise, And then flew up — into the skies ! Ton TITI» BENJAMIN HARRIS AND HIS WIFE PATIENCE.
Page 79 - I. In the house of Rohan is a maiden fair, (No daughter besides her mother bare), Twelve years have passed o'er her gentle head, Ere she hath given her will to wed. Ere she hath consented, as maidens use, From knights and barons a mate to choose — From barons and knights that made resort To offer this lovely ladye court. She looked at all, but her heart would stay On none save only the Baron Mahe', The lord of the castle of Traon-joli, A powerful peer of Italic — He only her heart could win and...
Page 24 - Nine sling-casts' length from van to rear — I know 'tis Arthur's hosts appear; — There Arthur strides — that foremost...
Page 43 - Thee first, as chief, thou white-haired man. " Your news, your news, come tell to me : What would you of Nomenoe ? " " We come for right ; to know, in brief, Hath Heaven a God, — Bretayne a chief ? " " Heaven hath a God, I trow, old man ; Bretayne a chief, if ought I can.
Page 210 - To the pretty little white rose, that is called Rose-Marie ? The pearl of girls ; the lily when among the flowers it grows, The lily newly opened, among flowers about to close. When I came to thee a-wooing, my sweet, my gentle May, I was, as is the nightingale upon the hawthorn spray : When he would sleep, the thorns, they keep a pricking in his breast, That he flies up perforce, and sings upon the tree's tall crest.
Page 31 - Seizenin, the drowned town Gwaeleod, and its site in Cardigan Bay, where the fishermen still talk of the ruins of ancient buildings seen by them at the bottom of the sea when the tide is lower than usual. In Ireland the town is Neagh, and our readers will remember the allusion to the sunken town in Moore's graceful lines : — " On Lough Neagh's banks when the fisherman strays, At the hour of eve's declining, He sees the round towers of other days Beneath the waters shining.
Page 23 - Arthur,' which he obtained from the recitation of an old mountaineer of Leuhan, called Mikel Floc'h, informs us that these triplets were sung in chorus as late as the Chouan war, by the Breton peasants as they marched to battle against the Republican soldiers. The belief in the appearance of Arthur's host on the mountains, headed by their mystic chief, — who awakens from his charmed sleep in the Valley of Avalon whenever war impends over his beloved Cymry, — is common to all the Celtic races,...
Page 89 - tis not this that grieves me most. " What's hound that's gone, or steed that's sped ? Oh, and alas ! your babe is dead ! " The big sow hath eaten your baby bright, The while my ladye was dancing light With the miller — a gentle gallant is he — In your garden he's planting a red rose-tree.