A Pilgrimage to the Land of Burns: Containing Anecdotes of the Bard, and of the Characters He Immortalized, with Numerous Pieces of Poetry, Original and Collected

author, 1822 - 271 Seiten

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Seite 168 - This guest of summer, The temple-haunting martlet, does approve By his loved mansionry that the heaven's breath Smells wooingly here : no jutty, frieze, Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle : Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed The air is delicate.
Seite 131 - Her moors red-brown wi' heather bells, Her banks an' braes, her dens an' dells, Where glorious Wallace Aft bure the gree, as story tells, Frae Southron billies. At Wallace' name, what Scottish blood But boils up in a spring-tide flood ! Oft have our fearless fathers strode By Wallace' side, Still pressing onward, red-wat shod, Or glorious died.
Seite 167 - Where the hunter of deer and the warrior trode, To his hills that encircle the sea. Yet wandering, I found on my ruinous walk, By the dial-stone aged and green...
Seite 208 - When the night's been dark and drear ; But it's better far to lie, wi' our storm locks dry, In the bosom o' her that is dear. "Gi'e her sail, gi'e her sail, till she buries her wale, Gi'e her sail, boys, while it may sit ; She has roar'd thro' a heavier sea afore, An' she'll roar thro
Seite 34 - E'en the brutes they look social, As gif they would crack ; And the sang o' the birds Seems to welcome me back. Oh, dear to our hearts Is the hand that first fed us, And dear is the land And the cottage that bred us. And dear are the comrades With whom we once sported, And dearer the maiden Whose love we first courted.
Seite 207 - Wi' his merry men sae brave ; Their hearts are o' the steel, an' a better keel Ne'er bowl'd owre the back o' a wave. It's no when the loch lies dead in its trough, When naething disturbs it ava, But the rack an' the ride o' the restless tide, An' the splash o
Seite 83 - It's a' to buy ye pearlins bright, An' to busk ye like a leddy." "O Willy, I can caird an' spin, Sae ne'er can want for cleedin'; An' gin I hae my Willy's heart, I hae a
Seite 174 - I left kith an' kin, Sir Knight, To turn about and rue ? Hae I shar'd win' an' weet wi' thee, That I should leave thee noo ? " There's gowd an' siller in this han' Will buy us mony a rigg ; There's pearlings in this other han

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