Poems, Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect, Bind 1Adam Neill and Company, 1800 - 287 sider |
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Side 2
... e'er fae duddie , But he wad ftan't , as glad to fee him , And ftroan't on ftanes an ' hillocks wi ' him . The tither was a ploughman's collie , A rhyming , ranting , raving billie , Wha Wha for his friend an ' comrade had him , ( 2 )
... e'er fae duddie , But he wad ftan't , as glad to fee him , And ftroan't on ftanes an ' hillocks wi ' him . The tither was a ploughman's collie , A rhyming , ranting , raving billie , Wha Wha for his friend an ' comrade had him , ( 2 )
Side 23
... breeks , a fcone , an ' Whisky gill , An ' rowth o ' rhyme to rave at will , Tak ' a ' the rest , An ' deal't about as thy blind skill Directs thee best . THE B4 * 1 to THE AUTHOR'S EARNEST CRY AND PRAYER * TO THE SCOTCH ( 23 )
... breeks , a fcone , an ' Whisky gill , An ' rowth o ' rhyme to rave at will , Tak ' a ' the rest , An ' deal't about as thy blind skill Directs thee best . THE B4 * 1 to THE AUTHOR'S EARNEST CRY AND PRAYER * TO THE SCOTCH ( 23 )
Side 67
... rhymes ? Or labour hard the panegyric close , With all the venal foul of dedicating Profe ! No ! though his ártlefs ftrains he rudely fings , And throws his hand uncouthly o'er the ftrings , He glows with all the fpirit of the Bard ...
... rhymes ? Or labour hard the panegyric close , With all the venal foul of dedicating Profe ! No ! though his ártlefs ftrains he rudely fings , And throws his hand uncouthly o'er the ftrings , He glows with all the fpirit of the Bard ...
Side 106
... rhyme . And now , auld Cloots , I ken ye're thinkin , A certain Bardie's rantin , drinkin , Some luckless hour will fend him linkin , To your black pit ; But , faith ! he'll turn a corner jinkin , An ' cheat you yet . But , fare you ...
... rhyme . And now , auld Cloots , I ken ye're thinkin , A certain Bardie's rantin , drinkin , Some luckless hour will fend him linkin , To your black pit ; But , faith ! he'll turn a corner jinkin , An ' cheat you yet . But , fare you ...
Side 112
... An ' bid him burn this curfed tether , An ' , for thy pains , thou'fe get my blether . ' This faid , poor Mailie turn'd her head , An ' clos'd her een amang the dead . POOR POOR MAILIE'S ELEG Y. LAMENT in rhyme , lament in ( 112 )
... An ' bid him burn this curfed tether , An ' , for thy pains , thou'fe get my blether . ' This faid , poor Mailie turn'd her head , An ' clos'd her een amang the dead . POOR POOR MAILIE'S ELEG Y. LAMENT in rhyme , lament in ( 112 )
Andre udgaver - Se alle
Almindelige termer og sætninger
aith Amang ance Auld Brig baith Bard blate bleft bonie braw breaſt BRIG brunstane canna cloſe countra Cuifs curfed dear Deil douce e'en e'er Ev'n ev'ry faft fair fhall fide fight filly fimple fing firft focial fome fome day foul frae ftan ftane ftill fure gang gaun gies glaſs guid Halloween hame heart Heav'n himfel honeft Hornbook houſe ither Juft juſt laffes laft Laigh Kirk Laird lefs leuk loft Mailie Mailie's dead maun monie muckle Mufe muſt mutchkin Nae mair ne'er night o'er out-owre owre pleaſure poor pow'r Profe raiſe rhyme rifing ruftic Samfon's dead Scotch Scotland ſee ſhe ſpeed Tam Samfon's dead tell thee thegither There's thou thrang thro unco warft weary weel Weft Whare Whyles ye'll ye're
Populære passager
Side 47 - 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
Side 217 - 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...
Side 34 - 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.
Side 159 - 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.
Side 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.
Side 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.
Side 106 - 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
Side 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...
Side 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!
Side 159 - 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