The History of Scotish Poetry

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Edmonston and Douglas, 1861 - 619 Seiten
 

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Seite 350 - So on he fares, and to the border comes Of Eden, where delicious Paradise, Now nearer, crowns with her enclosure green, As with a rural mound, the champain head Of a steep wilderness, whose hairy sides With thicket overgrown, grotesque and wild, Access denied...
Seite xvi - IRVING (DAVID). The lives of the Scotish poets, with preliminary dissertations on the literary history of Scotland, and the early Scotish drama.
Seite 545 - With swifter speed declines than erst it spread, And, blasted, scarce now shows what it hath been.
Seite 350 - Which to our general sire gave prospect large Into his nether empire neighbouring round : And higher than that wall a circling row Of goodliest trees, loaden with fairest fruit, Blossoms and fruits at once of golden hue...
Seite 214 - I mend the fyre and beikit me about, Than tuik ane drink, my spreitis to comfort, And armit me weill fra the cauld thairout. To cut the winter nicht and mak it schort I tuik ane quair - and left all uther sport Writtin be worthie Chaucer glorious Of fair Creisseid and worthie Troylus.
Seite 374 - Quat buik is that, harlot, into thy hand ? Out, walloway! this is the New Test'ment, In Englisch toung and printit in England : Herisie, herisie! fire, fire! incontinent.
Seite 350 - Insuperable height of loftiest shade, Cedar, and pine, and fir, and branching palm, A sylvan scene; and as the ranks ascend Shade above shade, a woody theatre Of stateliest view.
Seite 565 - I'd weep the world to such a strain As it should deluge once again ; But since thy loud-tongued blood demands supplies More from Briareus' hands than Argus' eyes, I'll sing thy obsequies with trumpet sounds, And write thy epitaph with blood and wounds.
Seite 216 - This doolie dreame, this uglye visioun Brocht to ane end, Cresseid fra it awoik, And all that court and convocatioun Vanischit away. Than rais scho up and tuik Ane poleist glas, and hir schaddow culd luik ; And quhen scho saw hir face sa deformait, Gif scho in hart was wa aneuch, God...
Seite 557 - 11 neither grieve nor yet rejoice, To see him gain what I have lost; The height of my disdain shall be, To laugh at him, to blush for thee; To love thee still, but go no more A begging to a beggar's door.

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