And I mon waxe wod;
Mulch sorwe I walke with
For best of bon and blod.
Similar Posts
Yankee was a bad man, Yankee was a thief,
I went to Yankee’s house, Yankee he had fled,Caught him on the battle-field, and there I killed him dead.
I am an Abolitionist!
Though now by Slavery’s minions hiss’dAnd covered o’er with shame,It is a spell of light and power —The watchword of the free : ——Who spurns it in the trial-hour,A craven soul is he !I am an Abolitionist!Then urge me not to pause;For joyfully do I enlistIn Freedom’s sacred cause:A nobler strife the world ne’er saw,Th’…
Pacience is a poynt, þa33e,
&Thornen is better to abyde þe bur vmbestoundes&Thornen ay þrow forth my þro, þa33e masse,How Mathew melede þat his Mayster His meyny con teche.A3t happes He hem hy3t & vcheon a mede,Sunderlupes, for hit dissert, vpon a ser wyse:Thay arn happen þat han in hert pouerte,For hores is þe heuen-ryche to holde for euer;&Thornay ar…
Come all ye true friends of the nation,
Come aid the poor slave’s liberation,And roll on the liberty ball —And roll on the liberty ball —Come aid the poor slave’s liberation,And roll on the liberty ball.The Liberty hosts are advancing —For freedom to all they declare;The down-trodden millions are sighing—Come, break up our gloom of despair.Come break up our gloom of despair, &c.Y…
Blow, northerne wynd,
Blow, northerne wynd,Blou, blou, blou!Ichot a burde in bour{.e} bryht,That fully semly is on syht,Menskful maiden of myht,Feir ant fre to fond{.e};In al this wurhlich{.e} won,A burde of blod and of bonNever yete y nust{.e} nonLussomore in lond{.e}.With lokk{.e}s lefliche and long{.e},With frount and fac{.e} feir to fong{.e},With murth{.e}s moni{.e} mote heo mong{.e},That brid so…
‘It is asserted, on the authority of an American Newspaper, that the
sold at New Orleans for $1,000.’-Morning Chronicle.Can the blood that, at Lexington, poured o’er the plain,When the sons warred with tyrants their rights to uphold,Can the tide of Niagara wipe out the stain?No! Jefferson’s child has been bartered for gold!Do you boast of your freedom? Peace, babblers-be still;Prate not of the goddess who scarce deigns…
And I mon waxe wod;
Mulch sorwe I walke with
For best of bon and blod.
Similar Posts
Nowell, nowell, nowell, nowell,
The borys hede that we bryng here,Betokeneth a p’nce with owte pere,Ys born this day to bye v’ dere,Nowell, &c.A bore ys a souerayn beste,And acceptable in eu’y feste,So mote thys lorde be to moste & leste,Nowell, &c.This borys hede we bryng with song,In worchyp of hym that thus sprangOf a virgine to redresse all…
QUHEN Flora had o’erfret the firth
Quhen merle and mavis singis with mirthSweet melling in the shawis sheen;Quhen all luvaris rejoicit beneAnd most desirous of their prey,I heard a lusty luvar mene—’I luve, but I dare nocht assay!’‘Strong are the pains I daily prove,But yet with patience I sustene,I am so fetterit with the luveOnly of my lady sheen,Quhilk for her…
Beleeue me now I tell it for no tale,
That without helpe of man, or any maleConceaueth daughters by her selfe alone:But at their birth, be it by night or day,Some skilfull man, the midwiues part doth play.When they be borne, and perfectly brought foorth,Both olde and yong doe greatly them desire;Their beautie and their power is of such woorth,That all mens harts, therewith…
Hereunder lyth a man of Fame,
Fishmonger he was in lyfftime here,And twise Lord Maior, as in books appere;Who, with courage stout and manly myght,Slew Jack Straw in Kyng Richard’s sight.For which act done, and trew entent,The Kyng made him knyght incontinent;And gave him armes, as here you see,To declare his fact and chivaldrie.He left this lyff the yere of our…
Gentle heardsman, tell to me,
Unto the towne of WalsinghamWhich is the right and ready way.‘Unto the towne of WalsinghamThe way is hard for to be gon;And verry crooked are those pathesFor you to find out all alone.’Weere the miles doubled thrise,And the way never soe ill,Itt were not enough for mine offence,Itt is soe grievous and soe ill.‘Thy yeeares…
Our king he kept a false stewarde,
A falser steward than he was one,Servde not in bower nor hall.He wolde have layne by our comelye queene,Her deere worshippe to betraye;Our queene she was a good woman,And evermore said him naye.Sir Aldingar was wrothe in his mind,With her hee was never content,Till traiterous meanes he colde devyse,In a fyer to have her brent.There…