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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h the moons pale ray, Dare ye thus roam Glenfinlas side ? — Where wild Loch Katrine pours her tide,Blue, dark, and deep, round many an isle, Our fathers towers oerhang her side,The castle of the bold Glengyle. To chase the dun Glenfinlas deer, Our woodland course this morn we bore, And haply met, while wandering here,The son of great Macgillianore. * 0 aid me, then, to seek the pair, Whom, loitering in the woods, I lost; Alone, I dare not venture there, Where walks, they say, the shrieking ghost. Yes, many a shrieking ghost walks there ; Then first, my own sad vow to keep,Here will I pour my midnight prayer, Which still must rise when mortals sleep. O first, for pitys gentle sake, Guide a lone wanderer on her way! For I must cross the haunted brake, And reach my fathers towers ere day.— First, three times tell each Ave-bead, And thrice a Pater-noster say ;Then kiss with me the holy rede; So shall we safely wend our way. — #9 H. J. Townsend del. F. W. Branston sc. 249 (Sknfinlas.
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0 shame to knighthood, strange and foul! Go, doff the bonnet from thy brow,And shroud thee in the monkish cowl, Which best befits thy sullen vow. Not so, by high Dunlathmons fire,Thy heart was froze to love and joy, When gaily rung thy raptured lyre,To wanton Mornas melting eye. Wild stared the minstrels eyes of flame, And high his sable locks arose,And quick his colour went and came, As fear and rage alternate rose. And thou ! when by the blazing oak I lay, to her and love resignd,Say, rode ye on the eddying smoke, Or saild ye on the midnight wind! Not thine a race of mortal blood,Nor old Glengyles pretended line ; Thy dame, the Lady of the Flood,Thy sire, the Monarch of the Mine. He mutterd thrice St. Orans rhyme, And thrice St. Fillans * powerful prayer; Then turnd him to the eastern clime,And sternly shook his coal-black hair. And, bending oer his harp, he flungHis wildest witch-notes on the wind ; And loud, and high, and strange, they rung,As many a magic change they find. * In a

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