The British Poets: Including Translations ...C. Whittingham, 1822 - Classical poetry |
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Page 16
... face , Aye gat him friends in ilka place . His breast was white , his towzie back Weel clad wi ' coat o ' glossy black ; His gawcie tail , wi ' upward curl , Hung o'er his hurdies wi ' a swirl . Nae doubt but they were fain o ' ither ...
... face , Aye gat him friends in ilka place . His breast was white , his towzie back Weel clad wi ' coat o ' glossy black ; His gawcie tail , wi ' upward curl , Hung o'er his hurdies wi ' a swirl . Nae doubt but they were fain o ' ither ...
Page 32
... face . God bless your Honors a ' your days , Wi ' sowps o ' kail and brats o ' claise , In spite o ' a ' the thievish kaes That haunt St. Jamie's ! Your humble Poet sings an ' prays While Rab his name is . POSTSCRIPT . LET half - starv ...
... face . God bless your Honors a ' your days , Wi ' sowps o ' kail and brats o ' claise , In spite o ' a ' the thievish kaes That haunt St. Jamie's ! Your humble Poet sings an ' prays While Rab his name is . POSTSCRIPT . LET half - starv ...
Page 34
... face is fair , I walked forth to view the corn , An ' snuff the caller air . The rising sun owre Galston muirs , Wi ' glorious light was glintin ; The hares were hirplin down the furs , The lav'rocks they were chantin Fu ' sweet that ...
... face is fair , I walked forth to view the corn , An ' snuff the caller air . The rising sun owre Galston muirs , Wi ' glorious light was glintin ; The hares were hirplin down the furs , The lav'rocks they were chantin Fu ' sweet that ...
Page 35
... face , But yet I canna name ye . ' Quo ' she , an ' laughin as she spak , An ' taks me by the hands , Ye , for my sake , hae gi'en the feck Of a ' the ten commands A screed some day . My name is Fun - your cronie dear , The nearest ...
... face , But yet I canna name ye . ' Quo ' she , an ' laughin as she spak , An ' taks me by the hands , Ye , for my sake , hae gi'en the feck Of a ' the ten commands A screed some day . My name is Fun - your cronie dear , The nearest ...
Page 37
... faces ; On that a set o ' chaps at watch , Thrang winkin on the lasses To chairs that day . O happy is that man ' an ... face , To's ain het hame had sent him Wi ' fright that day . Hear how he clears the points o ' faith Wi ' rattlin an ...
... faces ; On that a set o ' chaps at watch , Thrang winkin on the lasses To chairs that day . O happy is that man ' an ... face , To's ain het hame had sent him Wi ' fright that day . Hear how he clears the points o ' faith Wi ' rattlin an ...
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Common terms and phrases
aith amang ance auld baith bard Beneath blast blaw blest bonnie bonnie lasses braw BRIG brunstane Burns cauld charms chiel Cutty-sark dear deil e'en e'er Ellisland Ev'n ev'ry fair fate fear flow'rs frae gien gies grace guid hame haud heart Heav'n himsel honest humble ither John Highlandman joys Kilmarnock labour lasses leuk life's Lord maist maun mind mony mourn muckle muse mutchkin Nae mair Nature's ne'er neebor needna never night noble o'er out-owre owre the sea pleasure plough poet poor pow'r pride rhyme roar Robert Burns round Samson's dead sang sark Scotia's Scotland sing skelpin sugh sweet ta'en tears tell thee thegither There's thou thro TUNE unco weary weel Whare Whistle whyles William Burns wretch Ye'll ye're
Popular passages
Page 147 - 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 !
Page 158 - Thou's met me in an evil hour; For I maun crush amang the stoure Thy slender stem : To spare thee now is past my pow'r, Thou bonnie gem. Alas ! it's no thy neebor sweet, The bonnie Lark, companion meet ! Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet ! Wi' spreckl'd breast, When upward-springing, blythe, to greet The purpling east.
Page 146 - But hark ! a rap comes gently to the door ; Jenny, wha kens the meaning o' the same, Tells how a neebor lad cam' o'er the moor, To do some errands, and convoy her hame. The wily mother sees the conscious flame Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, and flush her cheek ; With heart-struck anxious care, inquires his name, While Jenny hafflins is afraid to speak : Weel pleased the mother hears it's nae wild, worthless rake. Wi...
Page 211 - Kirkton Jean till Monday. She prophesied that, late or soon, Thou would be found deep drown'd in Doon; Or catch'd wi' warlocks in the mirk By Alloway's auld haunted kirk. Ah, gentle dames! it gars me greet To think how mony counsels sweet, How mony lengthen'd sage advices, The husband frae the wife despises! But to our tale: Ae market night, Tarn had got planted unco right, Fast by an ingle, bleezing finely, Wi...
Page 128 - Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin ! Its silly wa's the win's are strewin' ! An' naething, now, to big a new ane, O...
Page 215 - Paisley harn, That while a lassie she had worn, In longitude tho' sorely scanty, It was her best, and she was vauntie. Ah ! little ken'd thy reverend grannie, That sark she coft for her wee Nannie, Wi' twa pund Scots ('twas a
Page 159 - O' clod or stane, Adorns the histie stibble-field, Unseen, alane. There, in thy scanty mantle clad, Thy snawy bosom sunward 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
Page 147 - The soupe their only Hawkie does afford, That 'yont the hallan snugly chows her cood; The dame brings forth in complimental mood, To grace the lad, her weel-hain'd kebbuck fell — An' aft he's prest, an' aft he ca's it guid; The frugal wifie, garrulous, will tell, How 'twas a towmond auld, sin' lint was i
Page 216 - When plundering herds assail their byke ; As open pussie's mortal foes, When, pop! she starts before their nose; As eager runs the market-crowd, When, "Catch the thief!" resounds aloud; So Maggie runs, the witches follow, Wi' mony an eldritch skreech and hollow.
Page 145 - The black'ning trains o' craws to their repose : The toil-worn cotter frae his labour goes, This night his weekly moil is at an end, Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes, Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend, And weary o'er the moor, his course does hameward bend. At length his lonely cot appears in view, Beneath the shelter of an aged tree ; Th' expectant wee-things, toddlin, stacher through To meet their dad, wi' flichterin noise an