The Poetical Works of Robert Burns, Band 1 |
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afterwards appear auld bonie Book brother Burns Burns's called charms dear death drink early Edinburgh edition Epistle face fair farm father fear feel formed fortune frae give given grace guid hand happy head hear heart Holy honest hope hour Jean John kind lass leave letter light lines live look Lord mair Mary Mauchline meet mind Miss month mony Muse ne'er never night o'er owre piece pleasure poem poet poet's poor present pride printed rhyme Robert round says seen sent sing song soon sweet tell thee There's Thou thought thro Till took verse weary weel wife wish write wrote young
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Seite 178 - 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 and bare ; Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, He wales a portion with judicious care ; And, " Let us worship God,
Seite 149 - An' weary winter comin' fast, An' cozie here, beneath the blast, Thou thought to dwell, 'Till, crash ! the cruel coulter past Out thro' thy cell. That wee bit heap o
Seite 180 - 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 179 - 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 20 - Yestreen, when to the trembling string The dance gaed thro' the lighted ha', To thee my fancy took its wing, I sat, but neither heard nor saw: Tho' this was fair, and that was braw, And yon the toast of a' the town, I sigh'd, and said amang them a', 'Ye are na Mary Morison.
Seite 181 - Wallace's undaunted heart, Who dar'd to, nobly, stem tyrannic pride, Or nobly die, the second glorious part: (The patriot's God, peculiarly Thou art, His friend, inspirer, guardian, and reward!) O never, never Scotia's realm desert; But still the patriot, and the patriot-bard In bright succession raise, her ornament and guard...
Seite 181 - 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...
Seite 180 - ... how poor Religion's pride, In all the pomp of method and of art, When men display to congregations wide, Devotion's...
Seite 235 - To give my counsels all in one — Thy tuneful flame still careful fan; Preserve the dignity of man, With soul erect; And trust, the universal plan Will all protect And wear thou this...
Seite xviii - In my infant and boyish days, too, I owed much to an old woman who resided in the family, remarkable for her ignorance, credulity and superstition. She had, I suppose, the largest collection in the country, of tales and songs concerning devils, ghosts, fairies, brownies, witches, warlocks, spunkies, kelpies, elf-candles, dead-lights, wraiths, apparitions, cantrips, giants, enchanted towers, dragons, and other trumpery.