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# The Book of Martyrs (Foxe)

"The Actes and Monuments, popularly known as Foxe's Book of Martyrs, is a work of Protestant history and martyrology by Protestant English historian John Foxe, first published in 1563." Warning: template has been deprecated.
* The Acts and Monuments of John Foxe (1837), edited by Stephen Reed Cattley.
* The Book of Martyrs (1926), edited by William Byron Forbush
# The Book of Navy Songs/The Maid of Amsterdam

In Amsterdam there lived a maid Mark you well what I say! In Amsterdam there lives a maid, And this fair maid my trust betrayed.
Chorus I'll go no more a rovin, with you fair maid. A roving, A roving, since roving's been my ru-i-in, I'll go no more a roving, with you fair maid.
Her eyes are like two stars so bright Mark you well what I say Her eyes are like two stars so bright, Her face is fair, her step is light.
Chorus I'll go no more a rovin, with you fair maid. A roving, A roving, since roving's been my ru-i-in, I'll go no more a roving, with you fair maid.
I asked this fair maid to take a walk, Mark well what I do say I asked this maid out for a walk That we might have some private talk.
Chorus I'll go no more a rovin, with you fair maid. A roving, A roving, since roving's been my ru-i-in, I'll go no more a roving, with you fair maid.
Then I took this fair maid's lily white hand, Mark well what I do say I took this fair maid's lily white hand In mine as we walked along the strand.
Chorus I'll go no more a rovin, with you fair maid. A roving, A roving, since roving's been my ru-i-in, I'll go no more a roving, with you fair maid.
Then I put my arm around her waist Mark well what I do say! For I put my arm around her waist And from her lips snatched a kiss in haste!
Chorus I'll go no more a rovin, with you fair maid. A roving, A roving, since roving's been my ru-i-in, I'll go no more a roving, with you fair maid.
Then a great big Dutchman rammed my bow Mark well what I do say For a great big Dutchman rammed my bow, And said, "Young man, dit is mijn vrouw!"
Chorus I'll go no more a rovin, with you fair maid. A roving, A roving, since roving's been my ru-i-in, I'll go no more a roving, with you fair maid.
Then take warning boys, from me, Mark well what I do say! So take a warning, boys, from me, With other men's wives don't make too free.
Chorus I'll go no more a rovin, with you fair maid. A roving, A roving, since roving's been my ru-i-in, I'll go no more a roving, with you fair maid.
For if you do you will surely rue Mark well what I do say! For if you do you will surely rue Your act, and find my words come true.
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# The Book of Scottish Song/Lanark Mills

Lanark Mills.
[Lewis.—Air, "Miss Forbes' Farewell to Banff."]
Adieu! romantic banks of Clyde, Where oft I've spent the joyful day, Now, weary wand'ring on thy side, I pour the plaintive, joyless lay. To other lands I'm doom'd to rove, The thought with grief my bosom fills, Why am I forced to leave my love, And wander far from Lanark Mills?
Can I forget th' extatic hours, When ('scaped the village evening din) I met my lass 'midst Braxfield bowers, Or near the falls of Corhouse Linn? While close I clasp'd her to my breast, (Th' idea still with rapture thrills!) I thought myself completely blest, By all the lads of Lanark Mills.
Deceitful, dear, delusive dream, Thou'rt fled—alas! I know not where, Evanish'd is each blissful gleam, And left behind a load of care. Adieu! dear winding banks of Clyde, A long farewell, ye rising hills; No more I'll wander on your side, Though still my heart's at Lanark Mills.
While Tintock stands the pride of hills, While Clyde's dark stream rolls to the sea, So long, my dear-loved Lanark Mills, May heaven's best blessings smile on thee. A last adieu! My Mary dear, The briny tear my eye distills; While reason's powers continue clear, I'll think of thee, and Lanark Mills.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Lament for Jamie

Lament for Jamie.
[Written by Andrew G. Bain, Edinburgh, on the death of a young gentleman who was lost on the coast of Ireland in January, 1816.—Tune, "Flowers of the Forest."
Sweet as May morning, the heath hills adorning, Decking with pearl the green flowery lea; Sweet sing the thrushes among the hawthorn bushes, But sweeter by far was my Jamie to me.
Dirk, dark and drearie, the moment was eerie, When the grim tyrant, by fatal decree, Snatch'd aff my treasure, my whole care and pleasure, Wha now sleeps in death 'neath the dark rolling sea.
Lanely I wander whare burnies meander, Blythely the birds sing on ilka green tree; Nature looks cheerie — but waes me, I'm weary, Joy fled wi' him wha sleeps cauld in the sea. ​Nae mair in the gloamin' I'll gaylie be roamin', To meet wi' my darling beneath the haw tree, Where kindly he'd press me, and fondly caress me— My heart's still wi' him, though he's cauld in the sea.
Vain are life's pleasures, its beauties and treasures— Sweet spring the gowans adorning the lea: Winter comes blasting, no longer they're lasting, But nipt in the bloom like my Jamie frae me.
Waukin' or sleeping I'm mourning and weeping: Thinking on Jamie tears gush frae my e'e; Pleasure forsakes me, and sorrow o'ertakes me; Death now alone my consoler must be.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Lament of Flora M'Donald

Lament of Flora M'Donald.
[Words by James Hogg. Music arranged by Neil Gow, Jun.]
Far over the hills of the heather so green, And down by the Corrie that sings to the sea, The bonny young Flora sat weeping her lane, The dew on her plaid and the tear in her e'e. She look'd at a boat with the breezes that swung, Away on the wave like a bird on the main; And aye as it lessen'd she sigh'd and she sung, "Farewell to the lad I shall ne'er see again; Farewell to my hero, the gallant and young, Farewell to the lad I shall ne'er see again. ​"The moorcock that craws on the brows o' Ben-Connal, He kens o' his bed in a sweet mossy hame; The eagle that soars o'er the cliff's of Clan-Ronald, Unawed and unhunted his eriy can claim; The solan can sleep on his shelve on the shore; The cormorant roost on his rock of the sea; But oh! there is ane whose hard fate I deplore, Nor house, ha', nor hame, in his country has he; The conflict is past, and our name is no more, There's nought left but sorrow for Scotland an' me.
"The target is torn from the arms of the just, The helmet is cleft on the brow of the brave, The claymore for ever in darkness must rust; But red is the sword of the stranger and slave; The hoof of the horse, an' the foot of the proud, Have trod o'er the plumes on the bonnet o' blue: Why slept the red bolt in the breast of the cloud, When tyranny revelled in the blood of the true? Farewell, my young hero, the gallant and good! The crown of thy father is torn from thy brow."
# The Book of Scottish Song/Laddie, oh, leave me

Laddie, oh, leave me.
[Joseph Macgregor.]
Down whar the burnie rins whimplin' and cheery, When love's star was smilin'; I met wi' my dearie; Ah! vain was its smilin', she wadna believe me, But said wi' a saucy air, "Laddie, Oh! leave me, "Leave me, leave me, laddie. Oh! leave me."
"I've lo'ed thee o'er truly to seek a new dearie, I've lo'ed thee o'er fondly, through life e'er to weary, I've lo'ed thee o'er lang, love, at last to deceive thee: Look cauldly or kindly, but bid me not leave thee." Leave thee, leave thee, &c.
"There's nae ither saft e'e that fills me wi' pleasure, There's nae ither rose-lip has half o' its treasure, There's nae ither bower, love, shall ever receive me, Till death break this fond heart—oh, then I maun leave thee." Leave thee, leave thee, &c.
The tears o'er her cheeks ran like dew frae red roses; What hope to the lover one tear-drop discloses; I kiss'd them, and blest her, at last to relieve me She yielded her hand, and sigh'd, "Oh! never leave me." Leave me, leave me, &c.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Lament

Lament.
[Written on the death of the Ettrick Shepherd, by the Rev. James Murray, author of the original songs given at page 39. Set to music by Peter Macleod.]
The summer hath pass'd o'er the Yarrow's green mountains, The birch trembled wild by Loch Mary's lone shore; The winter approaches to bind up the fountains, But the Bard of the Forest shall cheer us no more. No more shall he stray in the dusk of the gloaming, To dream of the spirits in lands far away! No more shall he list to the tempest loud moaning; For the Bard of the Forest lies cold in the clay!
He rests with his fathers, no more to awaken Sweet strains by the streamlets that speed to the main, The wild echo sleeps in the glen of green bracken, But the Shepherd shall never awake it again! Bloom sweetly around him, ye pale drooping roses, Breathe softly, ye winds, o'er his cold narrow bed! Fall gently, ye dews, where the minstrel reposes, And hallow the wild flowers that wave o'er his head!
# The Book of Scottish Song/Lament for the Bards

Lament for the Bards.
[Robert Gilfillan.—Tune, "Hame, hame, to my ain countrie."]
The harp of Scotia dear, That oft in joy was strung; Alas! 'tis silent now, And on the willows hung. The balmy breath of morn Awakes no more the strain, And to the gloamin' gale It kindles not again!
The minstrels famed in song, Who gave to song its fame— Ah! whither have they fled, The high of note and name? Alas! not to the bowers Of song, and summer fair, But in the tuneless grave, We mark the mighty there!
The cloud that gathering comes Across the evening sky, Obscures in heavy gloom The fair stars clust'ring high;
So came the cloud of death, While yet we thought it day, And in the gloom of night look all our stars away.
The groves may yet be green, The valleys still be gay, And down the sunny glen The blackbird pour his lay; But Scotia's harp no more Swells in the vocal throng, Nor heard the minstrel's voice In rapture and in song!
# The Book of Scottish Song/Land o' the Leal

Land o' the Leal.
[We can find no information regarding the authorship of this song. It appeared shortly after the death of Burns, whose dying thoughts it affects to personify. It is sung to the old tune of "Hey, tuttie, taittie."]
I'm wearing awa', Jean, Like snaw when it is thaw, Jean; I'm wearing awa', Jean, To the land o' the leal. There's nae sorrow there, Jean, There's neither cauld nor care, Jean, The day is aye fair, Jean, In the land o' the leal.
Ye were aye leal and true, Jean, Your task's ended now, Jean, And I'll welcome you To the land o' the leal. Our bonnie bairn's there, Jean, She was baith guid and fair, Jean, And we grudged her right sair To the land o' the leal.
Then dry that tearfu' e'e, Jean, Wy soul langs to be free, Jean, And angels wait on me To the land o' the leal. Now, fare ye weel, my ain Jean, This warld's care is vain, Jean, We'll meet and aye be fain In the land o' the leal.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Land of my Fathers

Land of my Fathers.
[Written by Dr. John Leyden. Set to music by R. A. Smith.]
Land of my fathers! though no mangrove here O'er thy blue streams her flexile branches rear, Nor scaly palm her finger'd scions shoot, Nor lucious guava wave her yellow fruit, Nor golden apples glimmer from the tree; Land of dark heaths and mountains, thou art free Free as his lord the peasant treads the plain, And heaps his harvest on the groaning wain.
Proud of his laws, tenacious of his right, And vain of Scotia's old unconquer'd might: Dear native valleys! may ye long retain The charter'd freedom of the mountain swain. ​Long, 'mid your sounding glades, in union sweet, May rural innocence and beauty meet; And still be duly heard, at twilight calm, From every cot the peasant's chanted psalm!
Then, Jedworth, though thy ancient choirs shall fade, And time lay bare each lofty colonnade, From the damp roof the massy sculptures die, And in their vaults thy rifted arches lie; Still in these vales shall angel harps prolong, By Jed's pure stream, a sweeter evening song Than long processions, once, with mystic zeal, Pour'd to the harp and solemn organ's peal.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Know'st thou the land

Know’st thou the land.
[In imitation of Goethe.]
Know'st thou the land of the hardy green thistle, Where oft o'er the mountain the shepherd's shrill whistle Is heard in the gloamin' so sweetly to sound, Where the red blooming heatlier and hair-bell abound?
Know'st thou the land of the mountain and flood, Where the pine of the forest for ages hath stood, Where the eagle comes forth on the wings of the storm,
And her young ones are rock'd on the high Cairngor'm?
Know'st thou the land where the cold Celtic wave Encircles the hills which its blue waters lave; Where the virgins are pure as the gems of the sea, And their spirits are light as their actions are free?
'Tis the land of my sires, 'tis the land of my youth, Where first my young heart glow'd with honour and truth,
Where the wild fire of genius first caught my young soul, And my feet and my fancy roam'd free from control.
And is there no charm in our own native earth? Does no talisman rest on the place of our birth? Are the blue hills of Albyn not worthy our note? Shall her sons' deeds in war, shall her fair, be forgot? ​Then strike the wild lyre, let it swell with the strain; Let the mighty in arms live and conquer again; Their past deeds of valour shall we not rehearse, And the charms of our maidens resound in our verse?
# The Book of Scottish Song/Lady Onlie

Lady Onlie.
[Manufactured by Burns for Johnson's Museum from an old song to the tune of "The Ruffian's Rant," or "Roy's Wife."]
A' the lads o' Thornie-bank, When they gae to the shore o' Bucky, They'll step in and tak' a pint Wi' lady Onlie, honest lucky! Lady Onlie, honest lucky, Brews guid ale at shore o' Bucky; I wish her sale for her guid ale, The best on a' the shore o' Bucky.
Her house sae bien, her curshe sae clean, I wat she is a dainty chucky; And cheerlie blinks the ingle-gleed Of lady Onlie, honest lucky! Lady Onlie, &c.
# The Booke of Thenseygnementes and Techynge that the Knyght of the Towre made to his Doughters/Chapter 63

HOW MEN OUGHT BEWAYLLE AND WEPE FOR HIS SYNNES AND MYSDEDES.
NOTHER Ensample I shalle telle yow of Mary Magdalene, whiche dyd wasshe and spurge awey her synnes and mysdedes by the water of her eyen, as she wasshed the feet of oure lord Ihesu Cryste, and wyped them with her here. She wepte for her synnes for the loue of god and drede of her mysdede. And thus at thexample of her we ought to do as she dyd, for we ought to wepe for our synnes and mysdedes, and have pyte and be shamefull of that that we haue done, and humbly goo to Confession, and there to the preeste we ought to telle our synnes as we haue done them, without hydyng or coueryng nothyng therof, for the boldnes that men vndertake to say theyr misdede & synne, also the shame that me haue to telle them, is to them a grete parte of their indulgēces, & god whiche seeth the huylyte & the repentaunce moueth hym self to pyte & eslargyssheth his misericorde, as he did to Mary Magdalene, to whome he pardonned her synnes and mysdedes for the grete contricion and repentaunce that she had. Another reason is wherof the holy magdalene ought to be preysed. It is by cause that she loued and wonderly drad god, and for certayne the grete myracle that she sawe, whiche god made, and that he had reysed her owne broder, the whiche hadde told her tydynges of the other world, and the paynes of hell, and that she sawe wel that she must dye & be punysshed there for her synnes and mysdedes, made her al ferdfull & sore a basshed. And therfore she was thyrtty yere and more in deserte, makyng there her penaunce, sorowynge and sore wepyng for her synnes and mysdedes. And whanne she had ben there long tyme fastynge and withoute mete, our lord beheld her and had on her pyte, and sente her euery day the brede of heuen, wherof she was rassasyed and fylde vnto her ​ende that god toke her. And therfore is here good ensample how good is to wepe for his synnes and ofte to confesse hym self, and to fast and make abstynences, and also to loue & drede god, as dyd this holy and good Magdaleyne that soo moche loued god that she wepte for her synnes vpon his feet, and after fasted and suffred soo moche euylle and meschyef in the buscage & desertes, where as god comforted her by his aungels, whiche euery day dyd brynge to her the brede of heuen. And in suche wyse shal god doo to alle good wymmen, and to alle them whiche with a contryte and good herte shalle wepe for theire synnes and that shalle loue god and doo abstynences, as he dyd to this good woman.
# The Booke of Thenseygnementes and Techynge that the Knyght of the Towre made to his Doughters/Chapter 61

HOW NO GOOD WOMAN OUGHT TO ANSUERE TO HER HUSBOND WHANNE HE IS WROTHE.
SHALLE telle yow another ensample, of the quene Hester, whiche was wyf to the grete kynge of Surye. She was a good lady and a wyse, and loued and drad her lord. And before alle other ladyes the hooly wrytynge preyseth her moche by cause of her her holy lyf and of her good condycions. The kyng her ford was a felon man & dyuers, and said to her many outragyous wordest but for ony thynge that he sayd she ansuerd hym nothinge, before the folke wherby he myght be wrothe. But after, whanne she had hym alone, and sawe the tyme and the place be conuenyente, she blamed hym, and curtoysly shewed hym his fawte. And therfore the kynge loued her moche, and sayd att his secrete that he myght not be wrothe with his wyf by cause she repreued hym by soo fayre and swete wordes. Certaynly it is one of the best tatches or condycions that a woman may haue, to kepe her self fro ansuerynge in the yre of her lord. For a dredefull herte is euer in drede to doo or saye ony thynge that may displease to hym whom she ought to loue and beie hym honour: wherof is reherced in the booke of the kynges of the wyf of one grete ford whiche was euylle and felon, and his wyf was ryght swete and peasyble, to whome her damoysels sayd, "Madame, why take yow not your disportes as a yong lady, as ye shold do?” And she ansuerd that she must be in doubte, knowynge her lord of suche condycions as he was of, and that she wold kepe the loue of hym and pees in her hows. And also she sayd that the fere that she had of the prysons kepte her from yrthe and gladnesse. The one pryson was loue, the other was drede, and the thyrd shame. These thre vertues mastryed her, for the loue that she had to her lord kepte her fro doynge of ony thynge that myght come to the dysplaysyre of her lord; drede made her ferynge the losse of ​her, good renomme and honour, and to falle in synne; and shame kepte her fro euylle and dishonest repreef. Wherfore, my fayre and dere doughters, I praye yow that ye maye take her good Ensample that ye ne ansuere to your lord, but in tyme and place conuenyent, and by fayr wordes, as dyd the good quene hester, as ye tofore haue herd, and also as the same, the whiche sayd to her damoysels that her herte was in the loue and in the pryson of her lord, and that therfore she myght, doo but after his playsyr, lyuynge in pees.
# The Booke of Thenseygnementes and Techynge that the Knyght of the Towre made to his Doughters/Chapter 62

HOW THE GOOD LADY OUGHT TO LOUE AND DREDE AND ALSO TO BERE FEYTHE VNTO HER LORD.
SHALLE telle yow another Ensample of the newe testament. It is of saynt Elysabeth, moder vnto Saynte Iohan. This Elysabeth thene serued fyrste god, and afterward her lord, and aboue al wymmen he drad and doubted hym. And as he came oute of the Town, and that by aduenture somme thynge was befalle amys in her hows, she kepte it, and made it to be kepte secrete vnto the tyme that she sawe her poynt. Thenne wente she and told it to hym by soo fayre and attemperate langage that in no wyse he myght neuer be wroth. She euer coueyted the pees and loue of her lord, and also ought to doo euery good woman. This holy lady loued and dradde god, and bare feythe to her lord, and therfor god gaf her saynt Iohan Baptist to her sone, whiche was a good guerdon. For a woman that loueth god and holdeth her clenely, god rewardeth her on lyue, and after her dethe he guerdonneth and rewardeth her with c double mo, as he dyd to this holy lady, to whome he gaf celestyals and erthely goodes to suffysaunce, as he dothe to his frendes whiche kepeth and holdeth them clenely in theyr maryagep and that haue good hope in hym as had this good Susanne.
# The Booke of Thenseygnementes and Techynge that the Knyght of the Towre made to his Doughters/Chapter 64

THE NEXT CHAPPYTRE SHEWETH HOW BE IT THAT A WOMAN HAUE AN EUYLLE AND FELON HUSBOND, NEUERTHELES SHE OUGHT NOT THERBY TO LEUE THE SERUYSE OF GOD.
FTER this ensample I shalle telle yow another of ii good wymen, wyues of two paynyms. The one was wyf to the seneschall of Herode. This good woman serued our lord at y time that he preched, & administred & made his mete and drynke the best wyse they couthe. Here is good ensample how euery good woman, al be it so that she haue neuer so peruers and euylle husbond, yet this notwithstondyng she ne oughte to leue the seruyse of god and be obeysshynge to hym, or els atte leste she ought to be more humble and deuoute for to Impetre and gete the grace of god for her and for her husbond. For the good that she dothe appeaseth the yre of god and is cause of the sauement of theyre temporall rychesse and goodes. For the good that she dothe supporteth the euylle and mysdedes of her husbond, as it is reherced in the lyf of the Auncyent faders, where as he speketh of an euylle man and a tyraunt, the whiche was thre tymes saued fro euylle dethe for goodnes and bounte of his wyf, wher, fore hit befelle whanne she was dede, and that he had no body more that prayd for hym, he was for his grete synnes & mysdedes brought in to a shamefull dethe by the kyng of that lond. And therfor it is good and necessary to an euyl man to haue a good wyf and of holy lyf, and the more that the good wyf knoweth her husbond more felon and cruel, and grete synnar, the more she ought to make gretter abstynences and good dedes for the loue of god. And yf the one suffre not the other, that is to vnderstonde, yf the good dyd suffre & supported not the euylle, all shold go to perdicion. And yet I saye that the obeyssaunce and drede of god was stablysshed before maryage, for men ought ​fyrst obeye to the creatour whiche hath made them to his blessyd forme and semblaunce, and that. maye gyue them grace to be saued. And also the lawe commaundeth that men ought not to obeye to the body, tylle that they haue purueyed fyrst for the prouffyte of the sowle, whiche is perdurable, wherupon sayth the glose, that alle good and dewe seruyse of the body is to the sauement of the sowle, for the good of the sowle hath none lyke hit. And therfor it is good to dresse & meue his lord to doo somme good, and after his poure to kepe hym fro euylle dede. And thus oughte to doo euery good woman.
# The Bank of the United States v. Smith

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
24 U.S. 171
The Bank of the United States v. Smith
ERROR to the Circuit Court for the District of Columbia. Feb. 7th.
This cause was argued by Mr. Lear, for the plaintiffs, and by Mr. Taylor, for the defendants. Feb. 13th.
Mr. Justice THOMPSON delivered the judgment of the Court.

## Notes

* ↑ He cited 2 H. Bl. 509. 3 Mass. Rep. 403. 3 Mass. Rep. 524. 12 Mass. Rep. 403. 8 Mass. Rep. 480. 1 Wheat. Rep. 373. Dougl. Rep. 132. 218. 1 Johns. Rep. 241. 5 Johns. Rep. 1. 2 Wash. Rep. 253.
* ↑ He cited 2 Brod. & Bingh. 165. 17 Johns. Rep. 248. Chitty on Bills, 321.
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work of the United States federal government (see 17 U.S.C. 105).
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