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acquaintance attention Bard beauty brother character Club composed continued dear death Dumfries earth Edinburgh English eternal fair Farewell farm father feel fields fire flowers French gave genius give glory hand head heart Highlands hills honest honor hope hour human independence John keep kind king knew labor land leave letter light lived Lodge look Lord mankind Mary meet mind mountain Muses native nature never night o'er patriotic plain pleasure plough poems poet poetic poetry poor poverty President pride rest rich rise Robert Burns rustic Scotch Scotland seemed side social song soul spirit streams sweet teach thee thou thought tion took town truth turn virtue wife wild wonder wrote young
Сторінка 39 - Scotia, my dear, my native soil! For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent! Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content!
Сторінка 124 - Mary ! dear departed shade ! Where is thy place of blissful rest ? Seest thou thy lover lowly laid ? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast ? That sacred hour can I forget, Can I forget the hallowed grove, Where by the winding Ayr we met, To live one day of parting love...
Сторінка 38 - ... hymning their Creator's praise, In such society, yet still more dear, While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere. Compared with this, how poor religion's pride...
Сторінка 38 - 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.
Сторінка 114 - There was a strong expression of sense and shrewdness in all his lineaments ; the eye alone, I think, indicated the poetical character and temperament. It was large, and of a dark cast, which glowed (I say literally glowed) when he spoke with feeling or interest. I never saw such another eye in a human head, though I have seen the most distinguished men of my time.
Сторінка 37 - 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 !* he says, with solemn air.
Сторінка 45 - I was not so presumptuous as to imagine that I could make verses like printed ones, composed by men who had Greek and Latin; but my girl sung a song, which was said to be composed by a small country laird's son, on one of his father's maids, with whom he was in love ! and I saw no reason why I might not rhyme as well as he...
Сторінка 68 - 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' tender; And pledging aft to meet again, We tore oursels asunder; But, Oh!
Сторінка 120 - And they hae taen his very heart's blood, And drank it round and round; And still the more and more they drank, Their joy did more abound. John Barleycorn was a hero bold, Of noble enterprise ; For if you do but taste his blood, Twill make your courage rise. 'Twill make a man forget his woe; 'Twill heighten all his joy : 'Twill make the widow's heart to sing, Tho