Poems, chiefly in the Scottish dialect, 第 1 巻Cadell, 1794 |
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aerial band aith Amang ance Auld Brig baith Bard beſt blate bleſt bonie braw breaft BRIG canna caſt cloſe countra Cuifs curchie curſed curſt dear Deil douce e'en e'er Ev'n ev'ry faſt fide filly firſt fome foul frae gies glaſs guid Halloween hame heart honeſt Hornbook houſe ither Juſt kennin Laigh Kirk Laird laſs laſſes laſt leſs Lord Justice Clerk Mailie dead maun monie muckle Muſe muſt mutchkin Nae mair ne'er night o'er out-owre owre pleaſure poor pow'r preſent Profe raiſe reſt rhyme ſae Samfon's dead ſay ſcarce Scotland ſee ſet ſhall ſhe ſhould ſhow ſkill ſocial ſome ſpeed ſtart ſtate ſtill ſtood ſtray ſtring ſweet taſte tell thee thegither There's thoſe Thou thrang thro unco weary weel Whare Whyles ye'll ye're ΧΙ
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100 ページ - 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...
217 ページ - 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...
204 ページ - 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
47 ページ - 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
204 ページ - 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
161 ページ - 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.
191 ページ - 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.
34 ページ - 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.
171 ページ - 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.
231 ページ - 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!