Poems, Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect, 第 1 巻Adam Neill and Company, 1800 - 287 ページ |
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aith Amang Auld Brig baith Bard beſt blate bleſt bonie braw BRIG canna canty caſt cloſe countra Cuifs curſed curſt dear Deil e'en e'er Ev'n ev'ry fair faſt fide filly fimple fing firſt fome foul frae gies glaſs guid Halloween hame heart Heav'n honeſt Hornbook houſe ither John Barleycorn juſt Laigh Kirk Laird laſs laſſes laſt leſs leuk Mailie dead maun monie muckle Muſe muſt mutchkin Nae mair ne'er night o'er out-owre owre paſt pleaſure poor pow'r preſent Profe raiſe rhyme ROBERT BURNS ſae Samfon's dead ſay Scotland ſee ſet ſhall ſhe ſhot ſhould ſkill ſma ſome ſpeed ſpring ſtane ſtart ſtate ſtill ſtrains ſtream ſtring ſweet tell thee thegither There's thoſe thou thrang thro unco weel Whare Whisky Whyles ye'll ye're
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47 ページ - 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
217 ページ - It's no in making 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 ay's the part ay, That makes us right or wrang. Think ye, that sic as you and I, Wha drudge and drive thro...
34 ページ - To stan" or rin, Till skelp — a shot — they're aff, a' throw'ther, To save their skin. 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.
159 ページ - Gies now and then a wallop, What ragings must his veins convulse That still eternal gallop: Wi' wind and tide fair i' your tail, Right on ye scud your sea-way; But in the teeth o' baith to sail, It maks an unco leeway.
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.
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.
106 ページ - An' now, auld Cloots, I ken ye're thinkin, A certain Bardie's rantin, drinkin, Some luckless hour will send him linkin, To your black pit ; But, faith ! he'll turn a corner jinkin, An
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...
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!
159 ページ - And (what's aft mair than a' the lave) Your better art o' hidin'. Think, when your Castigated pulse Gies now and then a wallop ! What ragings must his veins convulse, That still eternal gallop ! Wi