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Page 261 - November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh ; The short'ning winter-day is near a close ; The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh ; 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...
Page 262 - 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' leaves an' stibble Has cost thee mony a weary nibble!
Page 257 - Bagdat, in order to pass the rest of the day in meditation and prayer. As I was here airing myself on the tops of the mountains, I fell into a profound contemplation on the vanity of human life; and passing from one thought to another, ' surely,' said I, ' man is but a shadow, and life a dream.
Page 261 - 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 an' bare ; Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, He wales a portion with judicious care ; And " Let us worship God !
Page 265 - Doon, How can ye blume sae fair ! How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae fu' o' care. Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird, That sings upon the bough ; Thou minds me o' the happy days, When my fause luve was true.
Page 262 - He who stills the raven's clamorous nest, And decks the lily fair in flowery pride, Would, in the way His wisdom sees the best, For them and for their little ones provide; But chiefly in their hearts with grace divine preside.
Page 271 - Their groves o' sweet myrtle let foreign lands reckon, Where bright-beaming summers exalt the perfume; Far dearer to me yon lone glen o' green breckan, Wi' the burn stealing under the lang yellow broom. Far dearer to me are yon humble broom bowers, Where the bluebell and gowan lurk lowly unseen : For there, lightly tripping amang the wild flowers, A-listening the linnet, aft wanders my Jean. Tho...
Page 267 - O'erhung with wild woods, thickening, green, The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar, Twin'd amorous round the raptured scene. The flowers sprang wanton to be prest, The birds sang love on every 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 stronger makes, As streams their channels deeper wear.
Page 267 - I forget the hallowed grove, Where by the winding Ayr we met, To live one day of parting love ? Eternity will not efface Those records dear of transports past ; Thy image at our last embrace ; Ah ! little thought we 'twas our last ! Ayr, gurgling, kissed his pebbled shore, O'erhung with wild woods, thickening green, The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar, Twined amorous round the raptured scene.
Page 270 - FAREWELL, thou fair day, thou green earth, and ye skies, Now gay with the bright setting sun ; Farewell loves and friendships, ye dear tender ties — Our race of existence is run ! Thou grim king of terrors, thou life's gloomy foe! Go frighten the coward and slave ; Go, teach them to tremble, fell tyrant ! but know, No terrors hast thou to the brave ! Thou strik'st the...