Poems, chiefly in the Scottish dialect, Τόμος 1Cadell, 1794 |
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aerial band aith Amang ance Auld Brig baith Bard beneath bleft bonie braw breaft Brig canna canty cauld countra Cuifs curfed curft dear Deil douce e'en e'er Ev'n ev'ry faft fair faith feem'd fhall fide fight filly fimple fing focial fome foul frae ftan ftane ftells ftill ftrains ftrong fure fweet gang gaun gies guid Halloween hame heart honeft Hornbook ither juft kennin laffes laft Laigh Kirk Laird lefs leuk LUATH Mailie dead maun monie muckle Mufe muft mutchkin Nae mair ne'er night o'er out-owre owre pleaſure poor pow'r Profe rhyme rifing ruftic Samfon's dead Scotland ſee ſhe Tam Samfon's dead tell thee thegither There's thou thrang thro unco warft weary weel Weft Whare Whisky Whyles ye'll ye're
Δημοφιλή αποσπάσματα
Σελίδα 100 - To scaud poor wretches! Hear me, auld Hangie, for a wee, An' let poor damned bodies be; I'm sure sma' pleasure it can gie, Ev'n to a deil, To skelp an' scaud poor dogs like me, An' hear us squeel! Great is thy pow'r, an' great thy fame; Far kend an' noted is thy name; An' tho' yon lowin heugh's thy hame, Thou travels far; An' faith! thou's neither lag nor lame, Nor blate nor scaur. Whyles, ranging like a roarin lion For prey, a...
Σελίδα 217 - It's no in makin muckle mair: It's no in books ; it's no in lear, To make us truly blest : If Happiness hae not her seat And centre in the breast, We may be wise, or rich, or great, But never can be blest : Nae treasures, nor pleasures, Could make us happy lang; The heart...
Σελίδα 204 - That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble Has cost thee mony a weary nibble! Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble, But house or hald, To thole the winter's sleety dribble, An
Σελίδα 47 - Scripture, They raise a din, that in the end, Is like to breed a rupture O' wrath that day. Leeze me on Drink ! it gi'es us mair Than either School or College : It kindles Wit, it waukens Lair, It pangs us fou o
Σελίδα 204 - An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain For promis'd joy. Still thou art blest compared wi' me ! The present only toucheth thee : But, och ! I backward cast my e'e On prospects drear, An' forward, tho' I canna see, I guess an
Σελίδα 161 - tis He alone Decidedly can try us, He knows each chord its various tone, Each spring its various bias : Then at the balance let's be mute, We never can adjust it ; What's done we partly may compute, But know not what's resisted.
Σελίδα 191 - Whyles owre a linn the burnie plays, As thro' the glen it wimpl't; Whyles round a rocky scar it strays; Whyles in a wiel it dimpl't; Whyles glitter'd to the nightly rays, Wi' bickerin, dancin dazzle ; Whyles cookit underneath the braes, Below the spreading hazel, Unseen that night.
Σελίδα 34 - But bring a Scotsman frae his hill, Clap in his cheek a Highland gill, Say, such is royal George's will, An' there's the foe, He has nae thought but how to kill Twa at a blow. Nae cauld, faint-hearted doubtings tease him: Death comes, wi' fearless eye he sees him; Wi' bluidy hand a welcome gies him : An' when he fa's, His latest draught o' breathin lea'es him In faint huzzas.
Σελίδα 171 - Yes! let the rich deride, the proud disdain These simple blessings of the lowly train; To me more dear, congenial to my heart, One native charm, than all the gloss of art.
Σελίδα 231 - Too justly I may fear! Still caring, despairing, Must be my bitter doom; My woes here shall close ne'er But with the closing tomb!