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amang appears auld banks bard beautiful better bless bonny bosom BRIG bright Burns charms composed dance dear death early face fair Farewell fate fear feeling flowers frae grace guid hand head hear heart Heaven Highland hills honest honoured hope hour I'll John kind lass leave light live Lord mair mark meet mind minister Miss monie morn mortal mourn Muse Nature ne'er never night noble o'er owre pleasure poem poet poor powers pride roar round Samson's dead scene Scotland sing song spring sweet tear tell thee There's thou Till TUNE verses wander weel whistle wild Willie wind wish woods worth written ye'll young
Страница 192 - 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 248 - Tarn had got planted unco right; Fast by an ingle, bleezing finely, Wi' reaming swats, that drank divinely; And at his elbow, Souter Johnny, His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony; Tarn lo'ed him like a vera brither; They had been fou for weeks thegither. The night drave on wi...
Страница 227 - My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here : My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer; Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe, My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go.
Страница 255 - Tam wi' furious ettle ; But little wist she Maggie's mettle — Ae spring brought off her master hale, But left behind her ain gray tail : The carlin claught her by the rump, And left poor Maggie scarce a stump. Now, wha this tale o...
Страница 252 - Whom his ain son o' life bereft, The grey hairs yet stack to the heft ; Wi' mair o' horrible and awfu', Which ev"n to name wad be unlawfu'. As Tammie glowr'd, amaz'd, and curious, The mirth and fun grew fast and furious : The piper loud and louder blew ; The dancers quick and quicker flew ; They...
Страница 247 - An' getting fou and unco happy, We think na on the lang Scots miles, The mosses, waters, slaps, and styles, That lie between us and our hame ; Whare sits our sulky sullen dame, Gathering her brows like gathering storm, Nursing her wrath to keep it warm. This truth fand honest Tarn o...
Страница 251 - Nae cotillion brent new frae France, But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels, Put life and mettle in their heels. A winnock-bunker in the east, There sat auld Nick, in shape o...
Страница 153 - Fu' loud the wind blaws frae the ferry, The ship rides by the Berwick-law, And I maun leave my bonnie Mary. The trumpets sound, the banners fly, The glittering spears are ranked ready; The shouts o...