The Poetical Works of Robert Burns, Том 3W. Pickering, 1839 - 319 страница |
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Страница 3
... written , " At this time the au- thor intended going to Jamaica . " Allan Cunningham states that the Poet , it is said , recited , or rather chanted , ' This Farewell ' in the St. James's Lodge , of Tarbolton , when his chest was on the ...
... written , " At this time the au- thor intended going to Jamaica . " Allan Cunningham states that the Poet , it is said , recited , or rather chanted , ' This Farewell ' in the St. James's Lodge , of Tarbolton , when his chest was on the ...
Страница 10
... written , either partially or wholly , by Burns ; and the circumstance that two copies in his own hand exist , containing the va- riations now given , tends to show that it was his own , difficult as it certainly is to reconcile that ...
... written , either partially or wholly , by Burns ; and the circumstance that two copies in his own hand exist , containing the va- riations now given , tends to show that it was his own , difficult as it certainly is to reconcile that ...
Страница 15
... writing . The following is on neither subject , and consequently is no song ; but will be allowed , I think , to be two or three pretty good prose thoughts , inverted into rhyme . I do not give you this song for your book , but merely ...
... writing . The following is on neither subject , and consequently is no song ; but will be allowed , I think , to be two or three pretty good prose thoughts , inverted into rhyme . I do not give you this song for your book , but merely ...
Страница 18
... The gard'ner , & c . 6 He flies to her arms he lo'es the best , The gard❜ner , & c . Apparently written about May , 1795. See the note to O bonnie was yon rosy brier . ' The trout within yon wimpling burn Glides swift , a 18 THE POEMS.
... The gard'ner , & c . 6 He flies to her arms he lo'es the best , The gard❜ner , & c . Apparently written about May , 1795. See the note to O bonnie was yon rosy brier . ' The trout within yon wimpling burn Glides swift , a 18 THE POEMS.
Страница 26
... foe On British ground to rally ! Fal de ral , & c . Allan Cunningham says this song was written in April , 1795 , and was sent by the Poet to the Dumfries Journal . O let us not like snarling tykes In wrangling be 26 THE POEMS.
... foe On British ground to rally ! Fal de ral , & c . Allan Cunningham says this song was written in April , 1795 , and was sent by the Poet to the Dumfries Journal . O let us not like snarling tykes In wrangling be 26 THE POEMS.
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aboon Allan Cunningham Allan Cunningham says amang auld lang syne ballad Balmaghie Bannocks blate body kiss Bonie bonnie lass bonnie Mary braes Burns says Buy braw troggin Charlie charms CHORUS Claut Collection in 1801 copy Cromek's Reliques dear dearie Deil dimin e'en e'er EPITAPH fair Farewell flower frae Galla Water Glasgow Glasgow Collection glen grows bonnie wi gude hame heart Highland Highland laddie ilka Jamie Kenmure's Kilmarnock kiss laddie lassie lo'es Lord Mally's Mauchline maun monie Musical Museum nane ne'er Netherplace never night o'er Och-on owre Peggy printed in Cromek's rhyme Robin rue grows bonnie sing soger song occurs sparklin sweet tear tell thee Thomson thro thyme TUNE twa sparkling rogueish unco verses weary weel Whigs wife Willie winna wither'd ye'll ye're young
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Страница 16 - Let him follow me! By oppression's woes and pains! By your sons in servile chains! We will drain our dearest veins, But they shall be free! Lay the proud usurpers low! Tyrants fall in every foe! Liberty's in every blow! Let us do or die!
Страница 240 - 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, thro' the starting tear, Survey this grave. The poor Inhabitant below Was quick to learn and wise to know, And keenly felt the friendly glow, And softer flame, But thoughtless follies laid him low, And stain'd his name ! Reader, attend — whether thy soul Soars fancy's flights beyond the pole, Or darkling grubs this earthly hole, In low pursuit ;...
Страница 12 - O' my sweet Highland Mary. How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk, How rich the hawthorn's blossom, As underneath their fragrant shade I clasp'd her to my bosom ! The golden hours on angel wings Flew o'er me and my dearie; For dear to me as light and life Was my sweet Highland Mary. Wi' mony a vow and lock'd embrace Our parting was fu' tender; And pledging aft to meet again, We tore oursels asunder; But, Oh!
Страница 20 - A man's a man for a' that : For a' that, an' a' that, Their tinsel show, and a' that ; The honest man, though e'er sae poor, Is king o' men, for a' that. Ye see yon birkie, ca'da lord, Wha struts, and stares, and a' that ; Tho' hundreds worship at his word. He's but a coof. for a' that. For a' that, and a' that, His riband, star, and a' that, The man of independent mind, He looks and laughs at a
Страница 19 - 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 15 - Wha will be a traitor knave? Wha can fill a coward's grave? Wha sae base as be a slave? Let him turn and flee! Wha for Scotland's King and law Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Freeman stand, or freeman fa'?
Страница 11 - YE banks and braes and streams around The castle o' Montgomery, Green be your woods, and fair your flowers, Your waters never drumlie! There simmer first unfauld her robes, And there the langest tarry; For there I took the last fareweel O
Страница 55 - Yestreen, when to the trembling string The dance gaed thro' the lighted ha', To thee my fancy took its wing, I sat, but neither heard or saw: Tho' this was fair, and that was braw, And yon the toast of a' the town, 1 sigh'd, and said, amang them a', 'Ye are na Mary Morison!
Страница 77 - The birds sang love on ev'ry spray, Till too, too soon, the glowing west Proclaim'd the speed of winged day. Still o'er these scenes my mem'ry wakes, And fondly broods with miser care ! Time but the impression deeper makes, As streams their channels deeper wear.
Страница 76 - 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?