Rob Roy Macgregor, or 'Auld lang syne:' a national operatic drama, extended with an intr. [&c.] by a Glasgow playgoer

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x ÆäÀÌÁö - Now let this wilfu' grief be done, And dry that cheek so pale; Young Frank is chief of Errington And lord of Langley-dale; His step is first in peaceful ha', His sword in battle keen" — But aye she loot the tears down fa
42 ÆäÀÌÁö - Tis the summons of heroes for conquest or death, When the banners are blazing on mountain and heath: They call to the dirk, the claymore, and the targe, To the march and the muster, the line and the charge.
65 ÆäÀÌÁö - ... gnarled oak can be twisted as easily as the young sapling. Can I forget that I have been branded as an outlaw — stigmatized as a traitor — a price set on my head as if I had been a wolf — my family treated as the dam and cubs of the hill-fox, whom all may torment, vilify, degrade, and insult — the very name which came to me from a long and noble line of martial ancestors, denounced, as if it were a spell to conjure up the devil with...
x ÆäÀÌÁö - A chain of gold ye sail not lack, Nor braid to bind your hair ; Nor mettled hound, nor managed hawk, Nor palfrey fresh and fair ; And you, the foremost o' them a', Shall ride our forest queen " — But aye she loot the tears down fa
59 ÆäÀÌÁö - The heath this night must be my bed, The bracken curtain for my head, My lullaby the warder's tread, Far, far, from love and thee, Mary; To-morrow eve, more stilly laid, My couch may be my bloody plaid, My vesper song thy wail, sweet maid! It will not waken me, Mary!
54 ÆäÀÌÁö - THE moon's on the lake, and the mist's on the brae, And the Clan has a name that is nameless by day; Then gather, gather, gather, Grigalach Gather, gather, gather, &c.
x ÆäÀÌÁö - As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in love am I ; And I will love thee still, my dear, 'Till a' the seas gang dry. 'Till a...
32 ÆäÀÌÁö - A Highland lad my love was born, The Lowland laws he held in scorn ; But he still was faithful to his clan, My gallant braw John Highlandman. With his philabeg and tartan plaid, And good claymore down by his side, The ladies' hearts he did trepan, My gallant braw John Highlandman.
60 ÆäÀÌÁö - There is a gulf between us — a gulf of absolute perdition; where we go, you must not follow; what we do, you must not share in. Farewell; be happy!' In the attitude in which she bent from her horse, which was a Highland pony, her face, not perhaps altogether unwillingly, touched mine.
65 ÆäÀÌÁö - Highland drover, bankrupt* barefooted, stripped of all, dishonoured and hunted down, because the avarice of others grasped at more than that poor all could pay, shall burst on them in an awful change. They that scoffed at the...

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