The Works of the British Poets: With Lives of the Authors, Band 38Ezekiel Sanford, Robert Walsh Mitchell, Ames, and White, 1822 |
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Seite ix
... sang , 361 • 362 363 ib . · 365 She says she lo'es me best of a ' , 366 Saw ye my Phely , 367 How long and dreary is the night , 368 Let not woman e'er complain , 369 The Lover's Morning Salute to his Mistress , 370 The Auld Man , 371 ...
... sang , 361 • 362 363 ib . · 365 She says she lo'es me best of a ' , 366 Saw ye my Phely , 367 How long and dreary is the night , 368 Let not woman e'er complain , 369 The Lover's Morning Salute to his Mistress , 370 The Auld Man , 371 ...
Seite 42
... sang , * Was made lang syne - Lord knows how lang . He was a gash an ' faithful tyke , As ever lap a sheugh or dyke . His honest , sonsie , baws'nt face , Ay gat him friends in ilka place . His breast was white , his towzie back Weel ...
... sang , * Was made lang syne - Lord knows how lang . He was a gash an ' faithful tyke , As ever lap a sheugh or dyke . His honest , sonsie , baws'nt face , Ay gat him friends in ilka place . His breast was white , his towzie back Weel ...
Seite 58
... a reekin whittle , Anither sang . This while she's been in crankous mood , Her lost Militia fir'd her bluid ; Sir Adam Ferguson . E. + The present Duke of Montrose . E. • ( Deil na they never mair do guid , 58 BURNS ' POEMS ;
... a reekin whittle , Anither sang . This while she's been in crankous mood , Her lost Militia fir'd her bluid ; Sir Adam Ferguson . E. + The present Duke of Montrose . E. • ( Deil na they never mair do guid , 58 BURNS ' POEMS ;
Seite 104
... To garland my poetic brows ! Henceforth I'll rove where busy ploughs , Are whistling thrang , An ' teach the lanely heights an ' howes My rustic sang . I'll wander on , with tentless heed How never - 104 BURNS ' POEMS ;
... To garland my poetic brows ! Henceforth I'll rove where busy ploughs , Are whistling thrang , An ' teach the lanely heights an ' howes My rustic sang . I'll wander on , with tentless heed How never - 104 BURNS ' POEMS ;
Seite 107
... sang . My pen I here fling to the door , And kneel , Ye Pow'rs ! ' and warm implore , " Tho ' I should wander terra o'er , In all her climes , Grant me but this , I ask no more , ' Ay rowth o ' rhymes . ' Gie dreeping roasts to countra ...
... sang . My pen I here fling to the door , And kneel , Ye Pow'rs ! ' and warm implore , " Tho ' I should wander terra o'er , In all her climes , Grant me but this , I ask no more , ' Ay rowth o ' rhymes . ' Gie dreeping roasts to countra ...
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Andere Ausgaben - Alle anzeigen
Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
amang auld auld lang syne baith bard Beneath blate blaw blest bonnie bonnie lasses bosom braes braw breast BRIG brunstane Burns canna cauld charms dear dearie deil e'en e'er Ev'n ev'ry fair fate fear flowers frae gies guid hame haud hear heart Heav'n honest honour ither John Barleycorn lasses lassie Lord Gregory Mailie maun mony morn mourn muckle muse nae mair Nature's ne'er neebor never night o'er out-owre owre pleasure pleugh poet poor pow'r pride rhyme roar ROBERT BURNS round rustic Samson's dead Scotia's Scotland sing skelpin SONG soul sugh sweet Syne ta'en tears tell thee There's thou thro toil Tune unco wander weary weel Whare whistling Whyles wild Willie winds wretch XXXVIII ye'll ye're youthful
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 165 - Then kneeling down, to Heaven's eternal King, The saint, the father, and the husband prays: Hope "springs exulting on triumphant wing," That thus they all shall meet in future days, There ever bask in uncreated rays, No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear, Together hymning their Creator's praise. In such society, yet still more dear; While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere.
Seite 369 - Our toils obscure, and a' that; The rank is but the guinea's stamp, The man's the gowd for a' that. What though on namely fare we dine, Wear hoddin gray, and a' that? Gi'e fools their silks, and knaves their wine, A man's a man for a
Seite 164 - The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace, The big ha' Bible, ance his father's pride: His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside, His lyart haffets wearing thin an' bare; .Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, He wales a portion with judicious care ; And ' Let us worship God !* he says, with solemn air.
Seite 175 - Unskilful he to note the card Of prudent lore, Till billows rage, and gales blow hard, And whelm him o'er! Such fate to suffering worth is...
Seite 251 - A moment white — then melts for ever; Or like the Borealis race, That flit ere you can point their place; Or like the rainbow's lovely form, Evanishing amid the storm.-— Nae man can tether time or tide, The hour approaches, Tam maun ride ; That hour o...
Seite 368 - THAT AND A' THAT" Is there, for honest Poverty, That hangs his head, and a' that! The coward slave, we pass him by, We dare be poor for a
Seite 175 - Ev'n thou who mourn'st the Daisy's fate, That fate is thine — no distant date; Stern Ruin's ploughshare drives elate Full on thy bloom, Till crush'd beneath the furrow's weight Shall be thy doom!
Seite 253 - The doubling storm roars thro' the woods; The lightnings flash from pole to pole; Near and more near the thunders roll: When, glimmering thro' the groaning trees, Kirk-Alloway seem'd in a bleeze, Thro, ilka bore the beams were glancing, And loud resounded mirth and dancing. Inspiring bold John Barleycorn, What dangers thou canst make us scorn! Wi' tippenny, we fear nae evil; Wi' usquabae, we'll face the Devil!
Seite 286 - Again thou usher'st in the day My Mary from my soul was torn. O Mary ! dear departed shade ! Where is thy place of blissful rest ? Seest thou thy lover lowly laid ? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast ? " That sacred hour can I forget ? Can I forget the hallow'd grove Where, by the winding Ayr, we met, To live one day of parting love...
Seite 255 - Tam tint his reason a' thegither, And roars out: 'Weel done, Cutty-sark!' And in an instant all was dark; And scarcely had he Maggie rallied, When out the hellish legion sallied. As bees bizz out wi' angry fyke, When plundering herds assail their byke; As open pussie's mortal foes, When, pop! she starts before their nose; As eager runs the market-crowd, When 'Catch the thief!' resounds aloud; So Maggie runs, the witches follow, Wi' mony an eldritch skreech and hollow.