Recollections of a Speyside Parish

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Moray and Nairn Newspaper Company, Limited, 1902 - 141 Seiten

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Seite 25 - HOW happy is he born and taught That serveth not another's will; Whose armour is his honest thought, And simple truth his utmost skill ! Whose passions not his masters are; Whose soul is still prepared for death, Untied unto the world by care Of public fame or private breath; Who envies none that chance doth raise...
Seite 83 - Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way, With blossomed furze unprofitably gay, There, in his noisy mansion, skilled to rule, The village master taught his little school.
Seite 28 - Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart: Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea: Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free, So didst thou travel on life's common way, In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart The lowliest duties on herself did lay.
Seite 126 - 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 !
Seite 126 - 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 refined ! O Scotia, my dear, my native soil!
Seite 114 - What are these, So wither'd, and so wild in their attire ; That look not like the inhabitants o...
Seite 10 - And say, without our hopes, without our fears, Without the home that plighted love endears, Without the smile from partial beauty won, Oh ! what were man ? — a world without a sun.
Seite 21 - Ashford soften'd to a smile ; No more that meek and suppliant look in prayer, Nor the pure faith (to give it force), are there : — But he is blest, and I lament no more A wise good man contented to be poor.
Seite 34 - O, reason not the need ! Our basest beggars Are in the poorest thing superfluous. Allow" not nature more than nature needs, Man's life is cheap as beast's. Thou art a lady; If only to go warm were gorgeous, Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st, Which scarcely keeps thee warm.
Seite 96 - To deal out authors by retail, Like penny pots of Oxford ale ; Oh, 'tis a service irksome more Than tugging at the slavish oar. Yet such his task — a dismal truth — Who watches o'er the bent of youth, And while, a paltry stipend earning, He sows the richest seeds of learning, And tills their minds with proper care And sees them their due produce bear, No joys, alas ! his toil beguile : His own lies fallow all the while. " Yet still he's on the road," you say,

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