The Poetical Works of Robert Burns, Том 1Bell, 1893 - 1 страница |
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afterwards Allan Cunningham Amang auld baith blest bonie braw brunstane Burns wrote Burns's cauld Cessnock charms Clarinda dear death deil dinna drink e'er Edinburgh edition EPISTLE EPITAPH Ev'n ev'ry father Findlay frae Gavin Hamilton Gilbert Burns guid hame heart herds Holy Fair honest Hornbook ither Jean John Highlandman Jolly Beggars Kilmarnock laird Lapraik lasses Lochlie Lord Mailie Mary Mauchline maun mony Mossgiel Muse nae mair Nanie ne'er Netherplace never new-light night o'er owre pleasure plough poem poet poet's poison'd poor pride rantin rhyme rigs Robert Burns Robin says Scotch Scotland Scott Douglas sing skelpin sodger song sweet taen Tarbolton tell thee There's Thou thro unco verse warl weary weel Whyles ye'll ye're young
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Страница 178 - 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 - An' weary winter comin' fast, An' cozie here, beneath the blast, Thou thought to dwell, 'Till, crash ! the cruel coulter past Out thro' thy cell. That wee bit heap o
Страница 180 - 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.
Страница 179 - The priest-like father reads the sacred page, How Abram was the friend of God on high ; Or, Moses bade eternal warfare wage With Amalek's ungracious progeny ; Or how the royal bard did groaning lie 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.
Страница 20 - 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 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 181 - Wallace's undaunted heart, Who dar'd to, nobly, stem tyrannic pride, Or nobly die, the second glorious part: (The patriot's God, peculiarly Thou art, His friend, inspirer, guardian, and reward!) O never, never Scotia's realm desert; But still the patriot, and the patriot-bard In bright succession raise, her ornament and guard...
Страница 181 - An honest man's the noblest work of God :' And certes, in fair virtue's heavenly road, The cottage leaves the palace far behind ; What is a lordling's pomp ? a cumbrous load, Disguising oft the wretch of human kind, Studied in arts of hell, in wickedness...
Страница 180 - ... how poor Religion's pride, In all the pomp of method and of art, When men display to congregations wide, Devotion's...
Страница 235 - To give my counsels all in one — Thy tuneful flame still careful fan; Preserve the dignity of man, With soul erect; And trust, the universal plan Will all protect And wear thou this...
Страница xviii - In my infant and boyish days, too, I owed much to an old woman who resided in the family, remarkable for her ignorance, credulity and superstition. She had, I suppose, the largest collection in the country, of tales and songs concerning devils, ghosts, fairies, brownies, witches, warlocks, spunkies, kelpies, elf-candles, dead-lights, wraiths, apparitions, cantrips, giants, enchanted towers, dragons, and other trumpery.