The Poetical Works of Robert Burns: With a Memoir, Томови 1-3Houghton, Mifflin, 1880 |
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... Poor Mailie Poor Mailie's Elegy John Barleycorn ; a Ballad SONG - Mary Morrison SONG - The Rigs o ' Barley SONG - Montgomery's Peggy SONG - Composed in August ( Now westlin winds ) Inscription ' on the Tombstone of William Burness A ...
... Poor Mailie Poor Mailie's Elegy John Barleycorn ; a Ballad SONG - Mary Morrison SONG - The Rigs o ' Barley SONG - Montgomery's Peggy SONG - Composed in August ( Now westlin winds ) Inscription ' on the Tombstone of William Burness A ...
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... stoure ; Ye geck at me because I'm poor , But fient a hair care I. slight about t Last eve dust mock deuce I doubt na , lass , but ye may think ET . 23. ] TIBBIE , I HAE SEEN THE DAY . 7 SONG O Tibbie, I hae seen the.
... stoure ; Ye geck at me because I'm poor , But fient a hair care I. slight about t Last eve dust mock deuce I doubt na , lass , but ye may think ET . 23. ] TIBBIE , I HAE SEEN THE DAY . 7 SONG O Tibbie, I hae seen the.
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... poor as I. There lives a lass in yonder park , I would na gie her in her sark , For thee , wi ' a ' thy thousan ' mark ; Ye need na look sae high . ask THE TORBOLTON LASSES . The following off - hand verses 8 [ 1781 TIBBIE , I HAE SEEN ...
... poor as I. There lives a lass in yonder park , I would na gie her in her sark , For thee , wi ' a ' thy thousan ' mark ; Ye need na look sae high . ask THE TORBOLTON LASSES . The following off - hand verses 8 [ 1781 TIBBIE , I HAE SEEN ...
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... POOR MAILIE , THE AUTHOR'S ONLY PET YOWE : AN UNCO MOURNFU ' TALE . The following poem took its rise in a simple inci- dent thus related by Gilbert Burns . " He had , partly by way of ... POOR MAILIE . Death and Dying Words of Poor Mailie.
... POOR MAILIE , THE AUTHOR'S ONLY PET YOWE : AN UNCO MOURNFU ' TALE . The following poem took its rise in a simple inci- dent thus related by Gilbert Burns . " He had , partly by way of ... POOR MAILIE . Death and Dying Words of Poor Mailie.
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... Poor Hughoc like a statue stands ; He saw her days were near - hand ended , But , waes my heart ! he could na mend it . He gaped wide , but naething spak — At length poor Mailie silence brak . ' Oh thou , whose lamentable face Appears ...
... Poor Hughoc like a statue stands ; He saw her days were near - hand ended , But , waes my heart ! he could na mend it . He gaped wide , but naething spak — At length poor Mailie silence brak . ' Oh thou , whose lamentable face Appears ...
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Друга издања - Прикажи све
Чести термини и фразе
Amang ance auld baith bard blaw blest blithe bonnie lass bonny braes braw Burns Burns's canna Cessnock charms dear death deil e'en e'er Epistle fair fate fear Fête Champêtre fortune frae Gavin Hamilton grace guid hame heart Heaven Highland honest honour ither John John Barleycorn Kilmarnock Laird lass Lord Mailie Mauchline maun mind monie Mossgiel mourn muckle Muse nae mair ne'er never night o'er out-owre owre Peggy pleasure plough poem poet poet's poor pride rhyme roar ROBERT BURNS round rustic sang Scotch Scotland Scottish sing skelpin song soul stanza sweet Syne tell tempests storming thee thegither There's thou Torbolton TUNE twa glancing sparkling unco verses wander weary weel Whigs whistle Whyles ye hae Ye'll ye're young
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Страница 148 - 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 and bare ; Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, He wales a portion with judicious care ; And, " Let us worship God,
Страница 149 - Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire; Or Job's pathetic plaint and wailing cry; Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire; Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre. Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme: How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed; How He Who bore in Heaven the second name Had not on earth whereon to lay His head; How His first followers and servants sped; The precepts sage they wrote to many a land; How he, who lone in Patmos banished, Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand,...
Страница 200 - I forget the hallowed grove where by the winding Ayr we met, to live one day of parting love! Eternity will not efface those records dear of transports past; thy image at our last embrace — ah! little thought we 'twas our last! Ayr gurgling kissed his pebbled shore, o'erhung with wild woods...
Страница 150 - 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
Страница 146 - I've paced much this weary, mortal round, And sage experience bids me this declare, — ' If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare — One cordial in this melancholy vale, 'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair In other's arms, breathe out the tender tale, Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale.
Страница 150 - Compared with this, how poor religion's pride, In all the pomp of method, and of art, When men display to congregations wide, Devotion's...
Страница 277 - There oft as mild evening weeps over the lea, The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me. Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides, And winds by the cot where my Mary resides; How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave, As, gathering sweet flowerets, she stems thy clear wave. Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes; Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays; My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream, Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.
Страница 257 - O' clod or stane, Adorns the histie stibble-field, Unseen, alane. There, in thy scanty mantle clad, Thy snawie bosom sun-ward spread, Thou lifts thy unassuming head In humble guise ; But now the share uptears thy bed, And low thou lies ! Such is the fate of artless maid, Sweet flow'ret of the rural shade ! By love's simplicity betray'd, And guileless trust, Till she, like thee, all soil'd, is laid Low i
Страница 18 - Let others fear, to me more dear Than all the pride of May : The tempest's howl, it soothes my soul, My griefs it seems to join ; The leafless trees my fancy please, Their fate resembles mine ! Thou Power Supreme whose mighty scheme These woes of mine fulfil, Here, firm I rest ; they must be best.
Страница 16 - Is there a man, whose judgment clear Can others teach the course to steer, Yet runs, himself, life's mad career, Wild as the wave ; Here pause— and, through the starting tear, Survey this grave.