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amang auld bard beneath better blow bonnie comes dead dear death Ev'n ev'ry face fair faith fate fear fellow frae gies grace guid hand head hear heart hills honest honour hope hour John JOHN SHARPE kind king lasses light look mair maun meet mind monie morn mourn Muse ne'er never night noble o'er owre pleasure poet poor pow'r pride race rest rhyme roar round scenes Scotland Scottish side sing soul spring sweet tear tell thee There's thing thou thought thro Till turn unco weary weel Whare Whistle Whyles wild winds worth Ye'll young
Seite 132 - If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare, One cordial in this melancholy vale, 'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair, In other's arms breathe out the tender tale, Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the ev'ning gale.
Seite 134 - 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.
Seite 133 - The priest-like father reads the sacred page, How Abram was the friend of God on high ; Or, Moses bade eternal warfare wage With Amalek's ungracious progeny ; Or, how the royal bard did groaning lie Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire ; Or, Job's pathetic plaint and wailing cry ; Or, rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire ; Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre.
Seite 135 - And decks the lily fair in flow'ry 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.
Seite 108 - Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin ! Its silly wa's the win's are strewin' ! An' naething, now, to big a new ane, O...
Seite 131 - But hark ! a rap comes gently to the door ; Jenny, wha kens the meaning o' the same, Tells how a neebor lad cam' o'er the moor, To do some errands, and convoy her hame. The wily mother sees the conscious flame Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, and flush her cheek ; With heart-struck anxious care, inquires his name, While Jenny hafflins is afraid to speak : Weel pleased the mother hears it's nae wild, worthless rake. Wi...
Seite 147 - Low i' the dust. Such is the fate of simple bard, On life's rough ocean luckless starr'd ! Unskillful 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 given, Who long with wants and woes has striven, By human pride or cunning driven To misery's brink.
Seite 209 - Wi' favours secret, sweet and precious : The Souter tauld his queerest stories; The Landlord's laugh was ready chorus : The storm without might rair and rustle, Tam did na mind the storm a whistle. Care, mad to see a man sae happy, E'en drown'd himsel amang the nappy. As bees flee hame wi' lades o' treasure, The minutes wing'd their way wi' pleasure: Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious, O'er a...
Seite 166 - I am nae poet, in a sense, But just a rhymer like, by chance, An' hae to learning nae pretence, Yet, what the matter? Whene'er my muse does on me glance, I jingle at her. Your...
Seite 130 - The black'ning trains o' craws to their repose : The toil-worn cotter frae his labor 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 wee-things, toddlin', stacher thro' To meet their dad, wi' flichterin' noise an