University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
The lay of the Scottish fiddle : a tale of Havre de Grace

Paulding, James Kirke (1778-1860)

collapse section 
[section]
collapse section 
THE LAY OF THE SCOTTISH FIDDLE: TALE OF HAVRE DE GRACE.
  
PREFACE OF THE EDITOR.
  
INTRODUCTION.
collapse section1. 
CANTO I. THE THREE KNIGHTS.
 1. 
I.
 2. 
II.
 3. 
III.
 4. 
IV.
 5. 
V.
 6. 
VI.
 7. 
VII.
 8. 
VIII.
 9. 
IX.
 10. 
X.
 11. 
XI.
 12. 
XII.
 13. 
XIII.
 14. 
XIV.
 15. 
XV.
 16. 
XVI.
collapse section2. 
CANTO II. THE COUNCIL.
  
[prologue]
 1. 
I.
 2. 
II.
 3. 
III.
 4. 
IV.
 5. 
V.
 6. 
VI.
 7. 
VII.
 8. 
VIII.
 9. 
IX.
 10. 
X.
 11. 
XI.
collapse section3. 
CANTO III. THE PROGRESS.
 1. 
[I.]
 2. 
II.
 3. 
III.
 4. 
IV.
 5. 
V.
 6. 
VI.
 7. 
VII.
 8. 
VIII.
 9. 
IX.
 10. 
X.
 11. 
XI.
 12. 
XII.
collapse section4. 
CANTO IV. THE DIGRESSION
 1. 
I.
 2. 
II.
 3. 
III.
 4. 
IV.
 5. 
V.
 6. 
VI.
 7. 
VII.
 8. 
VIII.
 9. 
IX.
 10. 
X.
 11. 
XI.
 12. 
XII.
 13. 
XIII.
 14. 
XIV.
 15. 
XV.
 16. 
XVI.
 17. 
XVII.
 18. 
XVIII.
 19. 
XIX.
 20. 
XX.
 21. 
XXI.
collapse section5. 
CANTO V. THE BURNING.
 1. 
I.
 2. 
II.
 3. 
III.
 4. 
IV.
 5. 
V.
 6. 
VI.
 7. 
VII.
 8. 
VIII.
 9. 
IX.
 10. 
X.
 11. 
XI.
 12. 
XII.
 13. 
XIII.
 14. 
XIV.
 15. 
XV.
 16. 
XVI.
 17. 
XVII.
 18. 
XVIII.
 19. 
XIX.
 20. 
XX.
 21. 
XXI.
 22. 
XXII.
 23. 
XXIII.
 24. 
XXIV.
 25. 
XXV.
 26. 
XXVI.
 27. 
XXVII.
 28. 
XXVIII.

collapse section Collapse All | Expand All expand section
previous section The lay of the Scottish fiddle : a tale of Havre de Grace
next section

XV.

Doubles his fist—his eye-balls flame,
As near the fated spot he came,
Where our gay lord, with dalliance sweet,
The gentle damsel soft did greet.
Not England's champion, matchless Crib,
Who broke black Molyneux's rib;
Not Milo, when the bull he slew,
As story goes, and ate him too;
Not stout lord Douglas, when at court,
He spoil'd the great Fitz-James's sport,
And for his Lufra gave a thump,
That laid Sir Groom a lifeless lump—
96

Not one of these e'er lent a blow,
Like that which laid his lordship low.
Flat on the floor his curl-pate lies,
His light foot to the ceiling flies.
previous section The lay of the Scottish fiddle : a tale of Havre de Grace
next section