The British Poets: Including Translations ...C. Whittingham, 1822 |
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aith amang ance auld baith bard Beneath blast blest bonnie bonnie lasses braw BRIG brunstane Burns cauld chiel Cutty-sark dear deil e'en e'er Ellisland Ev'n ev'ry fair fate fear flow'rs fortune's frae gien gies grace guid hame haud heart Heav'n himsel honest humble ither John Highlandman Kilmarnock labour lasses leuk Lord maun mind mony mourn muckle muse mutchkin Nae mair Nature's ne'er neebor needna never night noble o'er out-owre owre owre the sea pleasure plough poet poor pow'r pride rhyme roar ROBERT BURNS round rustic Samson's dead sang sark Scotia's Scotland sing skelpin sugh sweet ta'en tears tell thee thegither There's thou thro TUNE unco weary weel Whare Whistle whyles William Burns wretch Ye'll ye're
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143 ページ - 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 !
143 ページ - They chant their artless notes in simple guise; They tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim : Perhaps ' Dundee's ' wild warbling measures rise, Or plaintive *• Martyrs...
156 ページ - ... sunward spread, Thou lifts thy unassuming head In humble guise ; But now the share uptears thy bed, And low thou lies ! Such is the fate of artless maid, Sweet flow'ret of the rural shade ! By love's simplicity betray'd, And guileless trust, Till she, like thee, all soil'd is laid Low i
170 ページ - O wad some Pow'r the giftie gie us To see oursels as others see us ! It wad frae monie a blunder free us And foolish notion: What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us, And ev'n Devotion I ADDRESS TO EDINBURGH.
126 ページ - Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are, That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm, How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides, Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you From seasons such as these ? O, I have ta'en Too little care of this ! Take physic, pomp ; Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel, That thou mayst shake the superflux to them, And show the heavens more just.
145 ページ - While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere. Compar'd with this, how poor Religion's pride, In all the pomp of method and of art, When men display to congregations wide, Devotion's ev'ry grace except the heart ! The Power, incens'd, the pageant will desert, The pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole ; But haply, in some cottage far apart, May hear, well pleas'd, the language of the soul ; And in his book of life the inmates poor enroll.
143 ページ - I've paced much this weary, mortal round, And sage experience bids me this declare : — 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 evening gale...
141 ページ - The black'ning trains o' craws to their repose : The toil-worn cotter frae his labour 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 through To meet their dad, wi' flichterin noise an
211 ページ - Paisley harn, That while a lassie she had worn, In longitude tho' sorely scanty, It was her best, and she was vauntie. Ah ! little ken'd thy reverend grannie, That sark she coft for her wee Nannie, Wi' twa pund Scots ('twas a
208 ページ - Tam skelpit on thro" dub and mire, Despising wind, and rain, and fire; Whiles holding fast his guid blue bonnet; Whiles crooning o'er some auld Scots sonnet; Whiles glow'ring round wi' prudent cares, Lest bogles catch him unawares; Kirk-Alloway was drawing nigh, Whare ghaists and houlets nightly cry. — By this time he was cross the ford, Whare in the snaw, the chapman smoor'd; And past the birks and meikle stane, Whare drunken Charlie brak 's neck-bane; And thro...