Songs, ballads, &c

"To horse! to horse!" Lord Percy cried, 
  "And quick brace on your armour gleaming, 
My merry men; on yon hill side 
  I see the Douglas' banner streaming;
And many a Scottish wife shall mourn 
Her husband's fate at Otterbourne."

Then loud o'er hill and glen remote 
  The brazen trumpet's clang resounded;
And as he caught the well-known note 
  Each trembling war-horse proudly bounded:
For well he knew no hunter's horn 
  Waken'd thy echoes, Otterbourne.

And now the charging squadrons meet,
  Their falchions in the moonbeams glancing;
And swiftly flew the arrowy sleet,
  Midst plumes and pennons gaily dancing:
And many a knight, with corslet torn,
Bow'd his proud crest at Otterbourne. 

'Tis o'er! -- the chief who oft has led 
  The battle-tide lies in his glory: 
The lowly mound that marks his bed 
  Too plainly tells the fatal story.
The house of Douglas long shall mourn 
The bloody field of Otterbourne.

I wandered by the brook-side,
I wandered by the mill,   --
I could not hear the brook flow,
The noisy wheel was still;
There was no burr of grasshopper,
Nor chirp of any bird,
But the beating of my own heart
Was all the sound I heard.   

I sat beneath the elm-tree,
I watched the long, long shade,
And as it grew still longer,
I did not feel afraid;
For I listened for a foot-fall,
I listened for a word;
But the beating of my own heart
Was all the sound I heard.

He came not,   --  no, he came not,   --
The night came on alone;
The little stars came one by one,
Each in his golden throne. 
The evening air passed by my cheek,
The leaves above were stirr'd,   --
But the beating of my own heart
Was all the sound I heard.

Fast silent tears were flowing,
When something stood behind,   -- 
A hand was on my shoulder, 
I knew its touch was kind; 
It drew me nearer   --   nearer,   -- 
We did not speak one word,
For the beating of our own hearts
Was all the sound we heard.

I have survived the flatterer of my youth
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  Come follow me, follow me, 
  You fairy elves that be -- 
  Which circle on the greene, 
  Come follow Mab your Queene. 
Hand in hand let's dance around, 
For this place is fairy ground. 

  When mortals are at rest, 
  And snoring in their nest, 
  Unheard and unespy'd 
  Through key-holes we do glide; 
Over tables, stools, and shelves, 
We trip it with our fairy elves. 

  And if the house be foul, 
  With platter, dish, or bowl, 
  Up stairs we nimbly creep, 
  And find the sluts asleep: 
There we pinch their armes and thighes; 
None escapes, nor none espies 

  But if the house be swept,
  And from uncleanness kept, 
  We praise the household maid, 
  And duly she is paid;
For we use before we goe, 
To drop a tester in her shoe.

  Upon a mushroom's head 
  Our table cloth we spread; 
  A grain of rye or wheat 
  Is manchet which we eat; 
Pearly drops of dew we drink 
In acorn cups fill'd to the brink.

  The brains of nightingales 
  With unctuous fat of snails, 
  Between two cockles stew'd 
  Is meat that's easily chew'd; 
Tailes of wormes, and marrow of mice,
Do make a dish that's wonderous nice.

  The grasshopper, gnat, and fly 
  Serve for our minstrelsie; 
  Grace said we dance awhile, 
  And so the time beguile:
And if the moone doth hide her head, 
The gloe-worm lights us home to bed 

  On tops of dewie grasse 
  So nimbly we do passe, 
  The young and tender stalk 
  Ne'er bends when we do walk; 
Yet in the morning may be seene 
Where we the night before have beene.

They never loved as thou and I
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I lie in a heavy trance
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I am loved - jubilate!
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O, the merry, merry vintage time
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