The British Poets: Including Translations ...C. Whittingham, 1822 - Classical poetry |
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Page 7
... rhyme , in a song which he addressed to his mistress , and which he had adapted to one of her favourite tunes . Being harassed by the extortion and the insolence of an agent , who managed the property after the death of his master ...
... rhyme , in a song which he addressed to his mistress , and which he had adapted to one of her favourite tunes . Being harassed by the extortion and the insolence of an agent , who managed the property after the death of his master ...
Page 16
... rhyming , ranting , raving billie , Wha for his friend an ' comrade had him , And in his freaks had Luath ca'd him , After some dog in Highland sang ' , Was made lang syne - Lord knows how lang . He was a gash an ' faithfu ' tyke , As ...
... rhyming , ranting , raving billie , Wha for his friend an ' comrade had him , And in his freaks had Luath ca'd him , After some dog in Highland sang ' , Was made lang syne - Lord knows how lang . He was a gash an ' faithfu ' tyke , As ...
Page 27
... rhyme to rave at will , Tak a ' the rest , An ' deal't about as thy blind skill Directs thee best . THE AUTHOR'S EARNEST CRY AND PRAYER ' TO THE SCOTCH REPRESENTATIVES IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS . YE Irish Lords , ye Knights an ' Squires ...
... rhyme to rave at will , Tak a ' the rest , An ' deal't about as thy blind skill Directs thee best . THE AUTHOR'S EARNEST CRY AND PRAYER ' TO THE SCOTCH REPRESENTATIVES IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS . YE Irish Lords , ye Knights an ' Squires ...
Page 49
... rhymes ? Or labour hard the panegyric close , With all the venal soul of dedicating Prose ? No ! though his artless strains he rudely sings , And throws his hand uncouthly o'er the strings , He glows with all the spirit of the Bard ...
... rhymes ? Or labour hard the panegyric close , With all the venal soul of dedicating Prose ? No ! though his artless strains he rudely sings , And throws his hand uncouthly o'er the strings , He glows with all the spirit of the Bard ...
Page 66
... rhyme . An ' now , auld Cloots , I ken ye're thinkin , A certain Bardie's rantin , drinkin , Some luckless hour will send him linkin , To your black pit ; But , faith ! he'll turn a corner jinkin , An ' cheat you yet . But , fare you ...
... rhyme . An ' now , auld Cloots , I ken ye're thinkin , A certain Bardie's rantin , drinkin , Some luckless hour will send him linkin , To your black pit ; But , faith ! he'll turn a corner jinkin , An ' cheat you yet . But , fare you ...
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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