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Andrews appeared auld baith beauty bell blythe bonnie called caller cheer crack dead death drink Edinburgh edition face fair fancy fear fields fouk frae green Grosart gude hame hand happy head hear heart High hope ilka John kind lads leave light live look mair maun mind mony morn mourn Muse nature ne'er never night o'er owre painting person play poems poet poor portrait Printed Robert Fergusson round says Scots Scottish seen shade sing smiles song spring stand streams Street sweet tear tell thee thou thought Till town tune turn verse voice waters weel wings writings young youth
Seite 151 - O ! who can hold a fire in his hand By thinking on the frosty Caucasus? Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite By bare imagination of a feast?
Seite 14 - The spinsters and the knitters in the sun, And the free maids that weave their thread with bones, Do use to chant it ; it is silly sooth, And dallies with the innocence of love, Like the old age.
Seite 12 - Gude faith, he mauna fa' that! For a' that, an' a' that, Their dignities an' a' that, The pith o' sense, an' pride o' worth. Are higher rank than a' that. Then let us pray that come it may, As come it will for a' that, That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth. Shall bear the gree, an' a' that. For a
Seite xi - CURSE on ungrateful man, that can be pleas'd, And yet can starve the author of the pleasure ! O thou, my elder brother in misfortune, By far my elder brother in the Muses...
Seite 191 - When you censure the age, Be cautious and sage, Lest the courtiers offended, should be ; If you mention vice or bribe, 'Tis so pat to all the tribe, Each cries — That was levelld at me.
Seite 9 - HAPPY the man who, void of cares and strife, In silken or in leathern purse retains A Splendid Shilling.
Seite 13 - While he draws breath, Till his four quarters are bedeckit Wi' gude Braid Claith. On Sabbath-days the barber spark, Whan he has done wi...
Seite xlix - No sculptured marble here, nor pompous lay, ' No storied urn nor animated bust ;' This simple stone directs pale Scotia's way To pour her sorrows o'er her poet's dust.