Beauties of the Scottish poets, or Harp of Renfrewshire, a collection of songs and other poetical pieces, with notes, and a short essay on the poets of Renfrewshire [by W. Motherwell. Re-issue of the harp of Renfrewshire, with cancel title-leaf].1821 |
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Сторінка xiii
... look for any thing like good poets , for indeed there were none such . All the powers and faculties of the soul seem to have been thoroughly engaged in fathoming and bot- toming religious truths , and in combating with errors and absur ...
... look for any thing like good poets , for indeed there were none such . All the powers and faculties of the soul seem to have been thoroughly engaged in fathoming and bot- toming religious truths , and in combating with errors and absur ...
Сторінка xxxi
... look to his brilliant , though short career , and think on what he suffered , and what he finally overcame , to compass his stupen- dous work , he could neither have been accused of egotism nor untruth , although he had himself uttered ...
... look to his brilliant , though short career , and think on what he suffered , and what he finally overcame , to compass his stupen- dous work , he could neither have been accused of egotism nor untruth , although he had himself uttered ...
Сторінка xxxii
... look with a fearful shuddering on the man who closes the book of life on himself , and with his own hand expunges from that book the promises it gives him of eternal happiness ; in a philosophic view of the matter , we too can find room ...
... look with a fearful shuddering on the man who closes the book of life on himself , and with his own hand expunges from that book the promises it gives him of eternal happiness ; in a philosophic view of the matter , we too can find room ...
Сторінка xxxv
... look was cast to me , and many an excuse was made to get away , but , alas ! there was no escaping with a good grace , and finding that I was little inclined to understand his signals , the kind request was at length reluctantly ...
... look was cast to me , and many an excuse was made to get away , but , alas ! there was no escaping with a good grace , and finding that I was little inclined to understand his signals , the kind request was at length reluctantly ...
Сторінка lxviii
... look braw , For wha can tell how Colin fared , When he was far awa Ah ! there's nae , & c . Sae true's his word , sae smooth's his speech His breath like cauler air , His very foot has music in't As he comes up LXVIII.
... look braw , For wha can tell how Colin fared , When he was far awa Ah ! there's nae , & c . Sae true's his word , sae smooth's his speech His breath like cauler air , His very foot has music in't As he comes up LXVIII.
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Beauties of the Scottish Poets, Or Harp of Renfrewshire, a Collection of ... Scottish Poets,Renfrew County Попередній перегляд недоступний - 2016 |
Загальні терміни та фрази
Alderney Arthurlie Bard beauty birken blaw bloom Blythely bonny lassie bonny Peggy bosom bower braes breast breath bright Buttermere cauld charms cheek dear death delight e'en e'er Ellen fair father flower frae Francis Sempill gane genius glow gude hame happy heart heaven ilka Jean Adam John Sim Johnny Katy lady lass little sweep lo'e lov'd lover maid Mary maun morning mourn nae mair native ne'er never night o'er owre Paisley peace pleasure poem poet poetical poor quhat R. A. Smith Renfrewshire Robert Sempill Robert Tannahill rose round Scotish Scotland Sempill sigh sing sleep smile song sorrow soul sung sweet sweetly Tannahill tear thair thee There's thine thou thro tree Twas wander warl wave weary weel weep wild Willy wind wyllowe yon burn side youth
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Сторінка 336 - Take, oh take those lips away, That so sweetly were forsworn; And those eyes, the break of day, Lights that do mislead the morn; But my kisses bring again, bring again, Seals of love, but seal'd in vain.
Сторінка 4 - By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him. Few and short were the prayers we said, And we spoke not a word of sorrow; But we steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead, And we bitterly thought of the morrow.
Сторінка 283 - Go, lovely Rose ! Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied, That had'st thou sprung In deserts where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired : Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die ! that she The common fate of all things rare May read in thee, —...
Сторінка 138 - She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps, And lovers around her are sighing; But coldly she turns from their gaze and weeps, For her heart in his grave is lying.
Сторінка 414 - With coral clasps and amber studs: And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me and be my love.
Сторінка 384 - FAINTLY as tolls the evening chime, Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time. Soon as the woods on shore look dim, We'll sing at St. Ann's our parting hymn. Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast, The Rapids are near and the daylight's past.
Сторінка 273 - THE YOUNG MAY MOON. THE young May moon is beaming, love, The glow-worm's lamp is gleaming, love, How sweet to rove Through Morna's grove,* When the drowsy world is dreaming, love ! Then awake ! — the heavens look bright, my dear, 'Tis never too late for delight, my dear, And the best of all ways To lengthen our days Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear.
Сторінка 416 - The flowers do fade, and wanton fields To wayward Winter reckoning yields: A honey tongue, a heart of gall, Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall. Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies, Soon break, soon wither — soon forgotten...
Сторінка 3 - NOT a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried.
Сторінка 5 - We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed, And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow ! Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him ; But little hell reck if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him...