The Works of the British Poets: With Lives of the Authors, Volume 38Ezekiel Sanford, Robert Walsh Mitchell, Ames, and White, 1822 - English poetry |
From inside the book
Results 6-10 of 51
Page 79
... hour ayont the twal , Which rais'd us baith : I took the way that pleas'd mysel , And sae did Death . THE BRIGS OF AYR , A POEM . Inscribed to J. B ********* , Esq . Ayr . THE simple Bard , rough at the rustic plough , Learning his ...
... hour ayont the twal , Which rais'd us baith : I took the way that pleas'd mysel , And sae did Death . THE BRIGS OF AYR , A POEM . Inscribed to J. B ********* , Esq . Ayr . THE simple Bard , rough at the rustic plough , Learning his ...
Page 93
... hour Shall ever be your lot , Forbid it , ev'ry heavenly Power , You e'er should be a Stot ! Tho ' , when some kind , connubial Dear , Your but - and - ben adorns , The like has been that you may wear A noble head of horns . And in your ...
... hour Shall ever be your lot , Forbid it , ev'ry heavenly Power , You e'er should be a Stot ! Tho ' , when some kind , connubial Dear , Your but - and - ben adorns , The like has been that you may wear A noble head of horns . And in your ...
Page 97
... hour , Sweet on the fragrant , flow'ry swaird , In shady bow'r : Then you , ye auld , snic - drawing dog ! Ye came to Paradise incog . An ' play'd on - man a cursed brogue , ( Black be your fa ! ) An ' gied the infant warld a shog ...
... hour , Sweet on the fragrant , flow'ry swaird , In shady bow'r : Then you , ye auld , snic - drawing dog ! Ye came to Paradise incog . An ' play'd on - man a cursed brogue , ( Black be your fa ! ) An ' gied the infant warld a shog ...
Page 98
... hour will send him linkin , To your black pit ; But , faith ! he'll turn a corner jinkin , An ' cheat you yet . But , fare you weel ! auld Nickie - ben ! O wad ye tak a thought an ' men ' ! Ye aiblins might — I dinna ken- Still hae a ...
... hour will send him linkin , To your black pit ; But , faith ! he'll turn a corner jinkin , An ' cheat you yet . But , fare you weel ! auld Nickie - ben ! O wad ye tak a thought an ' men ' ! Ye aiblins might — I dinna ken- Still hae a ...
Page 105
... hours like minutes , hand in hand , Dance by fu ' light . The magic wand then let us wield ; For ance that five - an ' - forty's speel'd , See crazy , weary , joyless eild , Wi ' wrinkl'd face , Wi ' creepin pace . Comes hostin ...
... hours like minutes , hand in hand , Dance by fu ' light . The magic wand then let us wield ; For ance that five - an ' - forty's speel'd , See crazy , weary , joyless eild , Wi ' wrinkl'd face , Wi ' creepin pace . Comes hostin ...
Contents
253 | |
256 | |
267 | |
274 | |
280 | |
282 | |
293 | |
299 | |
87 | |
93 | |
101 | |
109 | |
114 | |
120 | |
125 | |
131 | |
148 | |
159 | |
165 | |
174 | |
178 | |
184 | |
246 | |
306 | |
312 | |
318 | |
319 | |
325 | |
331 | |
337 | |
344 | |
350 | |
352 | |
358 | |
365 | |
371 | |
378 | |
384 | |
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
amang auld auld lang syne baith bard Beneath blate blaw blest bonnie bonnie lasses bosom braes braw breast BRIG brunstane Burns canna cauld charms dear dearie deil e'en e'er Ev'n ev'ry fair fate fear flowers frae gies guid hame haud hear heart Heav'n honest honour ither John Barleycorn lasses lassie Lord Gregory Mailie maun mony morn mourn muckle muse nae mair Nature's ne'er neebor never night o'er out-owre owre pleasure pleugh poet poor pow'r pride rhyme roar ROBERT BURNS round rustic Samson's dead Scotia's Scotland sing skelpin SONG soul sugh sweet Syne ta'en tears tell thee There's thou thro toil Tune unco wander weary weel Whare whistling Whyles wild Willie winds wretch XXXVIII ye'll ye're youthful
Popular passages
Page 165 - Then kneeling down, to Heaven's eternal King, The saint, the father, and the husband prays: Hope "springs exulting on triumphant wing," 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.
Page 369 - Our toils obscure, and a' that; The rank is but the guinea's stamp, The man's the gowd for a' that. What though on namely fare we dine, Wear hoddin gray, and a' that? Gi'e fools their silks, and knaves their wine, A man's a man for a
Page 164 - 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 !* he says, with solemn air.
Page 175 - 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...
Page 251 - A moment white — then melts for ever; Or like the Borealis race, That flit ere you can point their place; Or like the rainbow's lovely form, Evanishing amid the storm.-— Nae man can tether time or tide, The hour approaches, Tam maun ride ; That hour o...
Page 368 - THAT AND A' THAT" Is there, for honest Poverty, That hangs his head, and a' that! The coward slave, we pass him by, We dare be poor for a
Page 175 - Ev'n thou who mourn'st the Daisy's fate, That fate is thine — no distant date; Stern Ruin's ploughshare drives elate Full on thy bloom, Till crush'd beneath the furrow's weight Shall be thy doom!
Page 253 - The doubling storm roars thro' the woods; The lightnings flash from pole to pole; Near and more near the thunders roll: When, glimmering thro' the groaning trees, Kirk-Alloway seem'd in a bleeze, Thro, ilka bore the beams were glancing, And loud resounded mirth and dancing. Inspiring bold John Barleycorn, What dangers thou canst make us scorn! Wi' tippenny, we fear nae evil; Wi' usquabae, we'll face the Devil!
Page 286 - Again thou usher'st in the day My Mary from my soul was torn. O Mary ! dear departed shade ! Where is thy place of blissful rest ? Seest thou thy lover lowly laid ? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast ? " That sacred hour can I forget ? Can I forget the hallow'd grove Where, by the winding Ayr, we met, To live one day of parting love...
Page 255 - Tam tint his reason a' thegither, And roars out: 'Weel done, Cutty-sark!' And in an instant all was dark; And scarcely had he Maggie rallied, When out the hellish legion sallied. As bees bizz out wi' angry fyke, 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.