The Works of Robert Burns: Poems formerly published, with some additions, and a history of these poems, by Gilbert BurnsT. Cadell and W. Davies, 1806 |
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Side xi
... the first , the greatest friend ! O Thou unknown , Almighty Cause , O Thou whatever title suit thee , • O ye wha are sae guid yoursel , O ye whose cheek the tear of pity stains , Right Sir ! your text I'll prove it true , Sad thy tale ...
... the first , the greatest friend ! O Thou unknown , Almighty Cause , O Thou whatever title suit thee , • O ye wha are sae guid yoursel , O ye whose cheek the tear of pity stains , Right Sir ! your text I'll prove it true , Sad thy tale ...
Side 5
... Ye maist wad think , a wee touch langer , An ' they maun starve o ' cauld ... ye're negleckit , How huff'd , and cuff'd , and disrespeckit ! L - d , man , our ... ll stamp an ' threaten , curse and swear , He'll apprehend them , poind ...
... Ye maist wad think , a wee touch langer , An ' they maun starve o ' cauld ... ye're negleckit , How huff'd , and cuff'd , and disrespeckit ! L - d , man , our ... ll stamp an ' threaten , curse and swear , He'll apprehend them , poind ...
Side 23
... the bauld Sir Willie ; An ' monie ithers , Whom auld Demosthenes or Tully To Might own for brithers . Arouse , my boys ! exert your mettle , get auld Scotland back her kettle ; Or faith ! I'll wad my new pleugh - pettle , Ye'll see't or ...
... the bauld Sir Willie ; An ' monie ithers , Whom auld Demosthenes or Tully To Might own for brithers . Arouse , my boys ! exert your mettle , get auld Scotland back her kettle ; Or faith ! I'll wad my new pleugh - pettle , Ye'll see't or ...
Side 25
... ll no desert . An ' now , ye chosen Five - and - Forty , May still your Mither's heart support ye ; Then , tho ' a Minister grow dorty , An ' kick your place , Ye'll snap your fingers , poor an ' hearty , Before his face . God bless ...
... ll no desert . An ' now , ye chosen Five - and - Forty , May still your Mither's heart support ye ; Then , tho ' a Minister grow dorty , An ' kick your place , Ye'll snap your fingers , poor an ' hearty , Before his face . God bless ...
Side 27
... ll tell the reason . Scotland , my auld , respected Mither ! Tho ' whiles ye moistify your leather , Till whare ye sit , on craps o ' heather , Ye tine your dam ; Freedom and Whisky gang thegither ! Tak aff your dram ! THE THE HOLY FAIR ...
... ll tell the reason . Scotland , my auld , respected Mither ! Tho ' whiles ye moistify your leather , Till whare ye sit , on craps o ' heather , Ye tine your dam ; Freedom and Whisky gang thegither ! Tak aff your dram ! THE THE HOLY FAIR ...
Almindelige termer og sætninger
aboon aerial band aith amaist amang auld baith bard Beneath blate blest bonnie bonnie lasses braw BRIG brunstane cauld dear Deil e'en e'er Ev'n ev'ry fair fate fear flow'rs fortune's frae gien gies glorious grace guid Halloween hame haud hear heart Heav'n honest humble ither John Barleycorn lasses life's Mailie maun monie mourn muckle muse mutchkin nae mair Nature's ne'er neebor never night noble o'er out-owre owre the sea pleasure pleugh poet poor pow'r pray'r pride rhyme roar round rustic Samson's dead sang sark Scotia's Scotland sing skelpin soul sugh sweet ta'en taen tear tell thee thegither There's thou thro unco vex'd weary weel Whare Whistle Whyles wild winds winna wretched Ye'll ye're ΤΟ
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Side 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 an' bare ; Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, He wales a portion with judicious care ; And ' Let us worship GOD !
Side 186 - See yonder poor, o'erlabour'd wight, So abject, mean, and vile, Who begs a brother of the earth To give him leave to toil ; And see his lordly fellow-worm The poor petition spurn, Unmindful, tho' a weeping wife And helpless offspring mourn.
Side 333 - And in an instant all was dark : And scarcely had he Maggie rallied, When out the hellish legion sallied. As bees bizz out wi...
Side 203 - Unskilful he to note the card Of prudent lore, Till billows rage, and gales blow hard, And whelm him o'er! Such fate to suffering Worth is...
Side 201 - WEE, modest, crimson-tipped flow'r, Thou's met me in an evil hour ; For I maun crush amang the stoure Thy slender stem. To spare thee now is past my pow'r, Thou bonie gem. Alas ! it's no thy neebor sweet, The bonie Lark, companion meet ! Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet ! Wi' spreckl'd breast, When upward-springing, blythe, to greet The purpling east.
Side 327 - Tam had got planted unco right; Fast by an ingle, bleezing finely, Wi' reaming swats, that drank divinely ; And at his elbow, Souter Johnny, His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony ; Tam lo'ed him like a vera brither; They had been fou for weeks thegither. The night drave on wi...
Side 202 - O' clod or stane, Adorns the histie stibble-field, Unseen, alane. There, in thy scanty mantle clad, Thy snawie bosom sun-ward 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
Side 180 - Then kneeling down to Heaven's Eternal King The saint, the father, and the husband prays: Hope 'springs exulting on triumphant wing' 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.
Side 329 - The doubling storm roars thro' the woods; The lightnings flash from pole to pole; Near and more near the thunders roll: When, glimmering thro' the groaning trees, Kirk-Alloway seem'd in a bleeze, Thro, ilka bore the beams were glancing, And loud resounded mirth and dancing. Inspiring bold John Barleycorn, What dangers thou canst make us scorn! Wi' tippenny, we fear nae evil; Wi' usquabae, we'll face the Devil!
Side 327 - The night drave on wi' sangs and clatter; And ay the ale was growing better: The landlady and Tam grew gracious, Wi' favours, secret, sweet, and precious: The souter tauld his queerest stories; The landlord's laugh was ready chorus: The storm without might rair and rustle, Tam did na mind the storm a whistle. Care, mad to see a man sae happy, E'en drown'd himsel amang the nappy: As bees flee hame wi' lades o' treasure, The minutes wing'd their way wi' pleasure; Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious,...