The Works of Robert Burns: With an Account of His Life , and a Criticism on His Writing. To which are Prefixed, Some Observations on the Character and Condition of the Scottish Peasantry, Том 4T. Cadell and W. Davies ; and W. Creech at Edinburgh, 1813 |
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Сторінка 43
... tear in my e'e : Now welcome the simmer , and welcome my Willie , The simmer to nature , my Willie to me . Ye hurricanes , rest in the cave o ' your slumbers ! O how your wild horrors a lover alarms ! Awaken ye breezes , row gently ye ...
... tear in my e'e : Now welcome the simmer , and welcome my Willie , The simmer to nature , my Willie to me . Ye hurricanes , rest in the cave o ' your slumbers ! O how your wild horrors a lover alarms ! Awaken ye breezes , row gently ye ...
Сторінка 49
... tears in my e'e , Welcome now simmer , and welcome my Willie , As simmer to nature , so Willie to me . Rest ye wild storms in the cave o ' your slumbers , How your dread howling a lover alarms ! Blow soft ye breezes ! roll gently ye ...
... tears in my e'e , Welcome now simmer , and welcome my Willie , As simmer to nature , so Willie to me . Rest ye wild storms in the cave o ' your slumbers , How your dread howling a lover alarms ! Blow soft ye breezes ! roll gently ye ...
Сторінка 50
... tears in my e'e ; Welcome now simmer , and welcome my Willie , The simmer to nature , my Willie to me . Rest , ye wild storms , in the cave of your slumbers , How your dread howling a lover alarms ! Wauken ye breezes , row gently ye ...
... tears in my e'e ; Welcome now simmer , and welcome my Willie , The simmer to nature , my Willie to me . Rest , ye wild storms , in the cave of your slumbers , How your dread howling a lover alarms ! Wauken ye breezes , row gently ye ...
Сторінка 73
... tears are tears of joy : My soul , delightless , a ' surveys , While Willie's far frae Logan braes . Within yon milk - white hawthorn bush , Amang her nestlings sits the thrush ; Her faithfu ' mate will share her toil , Or wi ' his song ...
... tears are tears of joy : My soul , delightless , a ' surveys , While Willie's far frae Logan braes . Within yon milk - white hawthorn bush , Amang her nestlings sits the thrush ; Her faithfu ' mate will share her toil , Or wi ' his song ...
Сторінка 74
... tears , the orphan's cry ? * But soon may peace bring happy days , And Willie , hame to Logan braes ! Do you know the following beautiful little fragment in Witherspoon's collection of Scots songs ? Air- " HUGHIE GRAHAM . " " O gin my ...
... tears , the orphan's cry ? * But soon may peace bring happy days , And Willie , hame to Logan braes ! Do you know the following beautiful little fragment in Witherspoon's collection of Scots songs ? Air- " HUGHIE GRAHAM . " " O gin my ...
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The Works of Robert Burns: With an Account of His Life , and a ..., Том 4 Robert Burns Повний перегляд - 1813 |
Загальні терміни та фрази
ae night ain dear Allan Allan Ramsay alter amang anec anither auld lang syne ballad bard beautiful blithe bonnie bosom braes BURNS Caledonia Cauld charming Chloris CHORUS claute Coila Dainty Davie dear Sir dearest dearie Deil delight Dumfries Duncan Gray Ecclefechan Edinburgh English song English verses fair favourite fine air flowers frae Galla Water give glen hame heart heaven Highland John Anderson lass lassie Lassie wi lea-rig Leiger lines lo'es Lord Gregory lover mair Mary maun melodies merit Mill mony muse Museum Nancy Nanie ne'er never o'er Phillis Pindar pleased pleasure Pleyel poet poetry poor Rob Morris Saw ye Scots Scottish singing stanza suit sung sweet syne taste tell thee thine THOMSON thro tune wander wee thing wild Willie wilt thou young JESSIE
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Сторінка 217 - Guid faith he mauna fa' that. For a' that, and a' that, Their dignities, and a' that ; The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth, Are higher rank than a that. Then let us pray that come it may, As come it will for a' that ; That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth, May bear the gree, and a' that. For a
Сторінка 125 - Wha will be a traitor knave ? Wha can fill a coward's grave? Wha sae base as be a slave? Let him turn and flee! Wha for Scotland's King and law Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Freeman stand, or freeman fa...
Сторінка 216 - THAT AND A' THAT" Is there, for honest Poverty, That hangs his head, and a' that! The coward slave, we pass him by, We dare be poor for a
Сторінка 330 - Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes, Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays; My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream — Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream ! HIGHLAND MARY Ye banks, and braes, and streams around The castle o...
Сторінка 41 - It is the wish'd, the trysted hour! Those smiles and glances let me see, That make the miser's treasure poor: How...
Сторінка 341 - As fair art thou, my bonie lass, So deep in luve am I : And I will luve thee still, my Dear, Till a' the seas gang dry. Till a' the seas gang dry, my Dear, And the rocks melt wi' the sun : And I will luve thee still, my Dear, While the sands o
Сторінка 300 - John Anderson my jo, John, When we were first acquent, Your locks were like the raven, Your bonnie brow was brent; But now your brow is beld, John, Your locks are like the snow; But blessings on your frosty pow, John Anderson, my jo. John Anderson my jo, John, We clamb the hill thegither; And mony a canty day, John, We've had wi...
Сторінка 216 - A man's a man for a' that ; For a' that, and a' that, Their tinsel show, and a' that : The honest man, though e'er sae poor, Is king o' men for a' that. Ye see yon birkie, ca'da lord, Wha struts, and stares, and a' that ; Though hundreds worship at his word, He's but a coof for a' that : For a' that, and a' that, His riband, star, and a' that, The man of independent mind, He looks and laughs at a
Сторінка 18 - O' my sweet Highland Mary. How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk, How rich the hawthorn's blossom, As underneath their fragrant shade I clasp'd her to my bosom ! The golden hours on angel wings Flew o'er me and my dearie ; For dear to me as light and life Was my sweet Highland Mary. Wi' mony a vow and lock'd embrace Our parting was fu...
Сторінка 214 - The snawdrap and primrose our woodlands adorn, And violets bathe in the weet o' the morn, They pain my sad bosom, sae sweetly they blaw; They mind me o...