An Essay on Burns

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C. E. Merrill, 1910 - 133 стор.
 

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Сторінка 107 - MARY YE banks and braes and streams around The castle o' Montgomery, Green be your woods, and fair your flowers, Your waters never drumlie! There simmer first unfauld her robes, And there the langest tarry; For there I took the last fareweel O
Сторінка 107 - 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' monie a vow , and lock'd embrace , Our parting was fu' tender; And , pledging aft to meet again , We tore oursels asunder; But oh!
Сторінка 49 - But, fare you weel, auld Nickie-ben ! O wad ye tak a thought an' men' ! Ye aiblins might — I dinna ken — Still hae a stake : I'm wae to think upo...
Сторінка 109 - 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 : I will luve thee still, my dear, While the sands o
Сторінка 74 - Cold on Canadian hills, or Minden's plain, Perhaps that parent wept her soldier slain — Bent o'er her babe, her eye dissolved in dew, The big drops, mingling with the milk he drew, Gave the sad presage of his future years, The child of misery baptized in tears.
Сторінка 71 - Farewell, old Coila's hills and dales, Her heathy moors and winding vales ; The scenes where wretched fancy roves, Pursuing past, unhappy loves ! Farewell, my friends ! Farewell, my foes ! My peace with these, my love with those — The bursting tears my heart declare, Farewell, the bonnie banks of Ayr ! THE FAREWELL.
Сторінка 104 - An' bleak December's winds ensuin'. Baith snell and keen ! Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste An' weary winter comin' fast, An' cozie here, beneath the blast, Thou thought to dwell, Till, crash ! the cruel coulter past Out thro
Сторінка 108 - Thou minds me o' the happy days When my fause Luve was true. Thou'll break my heart, thou bonnie bird That sings beside thy mate; For sae I sat, and sae I sang, And wist na o' my fate. Aft hae I roved by bonnie Doon To see the woodbine twine, And ilka bird sang o' its love; And sae did I o
Сторінка 49 - Ilk happing bird, — wee, helpless thing ! — That in the merry months o' spring, Delighted me to hear thee sing, What comes o
Сторінка 75 - His person was strong and robust; his manners rustic, not clownish; a sort of dignified plainness and simplicity, which received part of its effect, perhaps, from one's knowledge of his extraordinary talents.

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