The Poetical Works, Том 1Little, Brown, 1863 - 1 страница |
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Amang the rigs appears auld baith bard blithe bonnie braes braw Burns's canna Cessnock charms Coilsfield dear death deil e'en e'er Edinburgh edition Epistle fair fate fear feelings Ferintosh fickle Fortune frae Gavin Hamilton genius grace guid Halloween hame happy heart Holy honour ither John Barleycorn Kilmarnock Laird lass lassie Lord Mary Mauchline maun mind mony Mossgiel mourn muckle Muse nae mair Nannie ne'er never night o'er Oh Thou out-owre owre pleasure plough poem poet poet's poetic poor Prayer pride rhyme ROBERT BURNS rustic sang says Scotch Scotland Scottish sing skelpin sodger song stanza sweet tell tempests storming thee thegither There's thought Torbolton TUNE twa glancing sparkling unco verses wander weary weel Whyles witching books ye hae Ye'll ye're young
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Страница 253 - 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 floweret 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 244 - tis He alone Decidedly can try us, He knows each chord its various tone, Each spring its various bias : Then at the balance let's be mute, We never can adjust it; What's done we partly may compute, But know not what's resisted.
Страница 254 - 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 given, Who long with wants and woes has striven.
Страница 135 - See yonder poor, o'erlabour'd wight, So abject, mean and vile, Who begs a brother of the earth To give him leave to toil ; And see his lordly fellow-worm The poor petition spurn, Unmindful though a weeping wife And helpless offspring mourn.
Страница 138 - My loved, my honored, much respected friend! No mercenary bard his homage pays; With honest pride, I scorn each selfish end, My dearest meed, a friend's esteem and praise: To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays, The lowly train in life's sequestered scene; The native feelings strong, the guileless ways; What Aiken in a cottage would have been; Ah!
Страница 28 - The dance gaed thro' the lighted ha', To thee my fancy took its wing, I sat, but neither heard nor saw: Tho' this was fair, and that was braw, And yon the toast of a' the town, I sigh'd, and said amang them a', 'Ye are na Mary Morison.
Страница 272 - My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream, Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.
Страница 140 - An' each for other's weelfare kindly spiers : The social hours, swift-wing'd, unnotic'd fleet ; Each tells the uncos that he sees or hears ; The parents, partial, eye their hopeful years ; Anticipation forward points the view. The mother, wi' her needle an' her sheers, Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new; The father mixes a
Страница 146 - 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 every grace...
Страница 170 - See! the smoking bowl before us, Mark our jovial ragged ring! Round and round take up the chorus, And in raptures let us sing.