File:The book of British ballads (1842) (14780433384).jpg

Identifier: gri_33125012902363 (find matches)
Title: The book of British ballads
Year: 1842 (1840s)
Authors: Hall, S. C. (Samuel Carter), 1800-1889
Subjects: Ballads, English
Publisher: London : J. How
Contributing Library: Getty Research Institute
Digitizing Sponsor: Getty Research Institute

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Text Appearing Before Image:
re. In youths gay bloom, the brave MacphailStill blamed the lingering barks delay ; For her he chid the flagging sail,The lovely Maid of Colonsay. And raise, he cried, the song of love,The maiden sung with tearful smile, When first, oer Juras hills to rove,We left afar the lonely isle !— When on this ring of ruby red Shall die, she said, the crimson hue,Know that thy favourite fair is dead, Or proves to thee and love untrue. Now, lightly poised, the rising oarDisperses wide the foamy spray, And, echoing far oer Crinans shore,Resounds the song of Colonsay. Softly blow, thou western breeze,Softly rustle through the sail! Soothe to rest the furrowy seas, Before my love, sweet western gale ! Where the wave is tinged with red,And the russet sea-leaves grow, Mariners, with prudent dread,Shun the shelving reefs below. As you pass through Juras sound, Bend your course by Scarbas shore, Shun, O shun, the gulf profound,Where Corrivrekins surges roar ! Franklin del. Fred. Braoslon sc. 198 y-f*
Text Appearing After Image:
If, from that unbottomed deep, With wrinkled form and wreathed train,Oer the verge of Scarbas steep, The sea-snake heave his snowy mane, Unwarp, unwind his oozy coils,Sea-green sisters of the main, And, in the gulf where ocean boils, The unwieldy wallowing monster chain. Softly blow, thou western breeze,Softly rustle through the sail! Soothe to rest the furrowed seas, Before my love, sweet western gale! Thus, all to soothe the chieftains woe,Far from the maid he loved so dear, The song arose so soft and slow, He seemed her parting sigh to hear. The lonely deck he paces oer, Impatient for the rising day,And still, from Crinans moonlight shore, He turns his eyes to Colonsay. The moonbeams crisp the curling surge,That streaks with foam the ocean green : While forward still the rowers urge Their course, a female form was seen. That sea-maids form, of pearly light,Was whiter than the downy spray, And round her bosom, heaving bright,Her glossy yellow ringlets play. Borne on a foamy-crested

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