Robert Burns: As a Poet, and as a ManBaker and Scribner, 1848 - 209 páginas |
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Página iv
... poets are sent into the world to teach and exalt duller minds . If it were not for these great teachers , the race of men would ever be barbarous . Strike out of human history all the works of genius , and take away from human culture ...
... poets are sent into the world to teach and exalt duller minds . If it were not for these great teachers , the race of men would ever be barbarous . Strike out of human history all the works of genius , and take away from human culture ...
Página v
... poets have always been the best beloved of a nation's great minds . . His spell is upon the heart . In youth , when love kindles its first flame upon the altar of the heart , poetry breathes its soft breath upon it , and gives it a ...
... poets have always been the best beloved of a nation's great minds . . His spell is upon the heart . In youth , when love kindles its first flame upon the altar of the heart , poetry breathes its soft breath upon it , and gives it a ...
Página 16
... poets described the morning , that most beautiful period of the day ? Milton says , - " Now morn , her rosy steps in the Eastern clime , Advancing , sow'd the earth with orient pearls . " And again , " Sweet is the breath of morn , her ...
... poets described the morning , that most beautiful period of the day ? Milton says , - " Now morn , her rosy steps in the Eastern clime , Advancing , sow'd the earth with orient pearls . " And again , " Sweet is the breath of morn , her ...
Página 17
... now , fair daughter of the dawn , Sprinkled with rosy light the dewy lawn . " And how do poets describe the most beautiful of the seasons ? Thomson says , — " Come , gentle spring , ethereal mildness come , AS A POET . 17.
... now , fair daughter of the dawn , Sprinkled with rosy light the dewy lawn . " And how do poets describe the most beautiful of the seasons ? Thomson says , — " Come , gentle spring , ethereal mildness come , AS A POET . 17.
Página 19
... poets as a woman . Shakspeare says , " Where Phoebe doth behold Her silver visage in the wat'ry glass , Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass . " And Milton says , " till the moon , Rising in clouded majesty , at length , unveil'd ...
... poets as a woman . Shakspeare says , " Where Phoebe doth behold Her silver visage in the wat'ry glass , Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass . " And Milton says , " till the moon , Rising in clouded majesty , at length , unveil'd ...
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Termos e frases comuns
acquaintance Allan Ramsay ambition ancient associations awakened beauty bliss bosom breathes Burns's character charms conversation criticism divine Duchess of Gordon Dugald Stewart Earl of Glencairn Edinburgh elements Ellisland embodied English expression exquisite fame fancy father feeling felt flowers frae genius give Glencairn glory Greek happy harp heart highest honor Hudibras human humble humor ideal impression inspiration labors letter literary literature living look manners Mary Campbell material imagery Mauchline mind moral muse nature never night noble o'er O'Shanter objects peasant peculiar Pietro Perugino pleasure poem poet poetic poetry rhyme Robert Burns satire says scene Scotland Scots Scots College Scottish Scottish literature seen sentiments songs soul spirit stream sweet sympathy Tam O'Shanter taste tender thing Thomson thou thought thro tion touch truth tune ture verses whole Whyles woman write written youth
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Página 54 - The best laid schemes o' mice an' men, Gang aft agley, An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain For promis'd joy! Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me! The present only toucheth thee: But, och! I backward cast my e'e, On prospects drear! An' forward, tho' I canna see, I guess an
Página 80 - O wad some Pow'r the giftie gie us To see oursels as others see us ! It wad frae monie a blunder free us And foolish notion : What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us, And ev'n devotion ! EPISTLE TO A YOUNG FRIEND.
Página 169 - The bridegroom may forget the bride Was made his wedded wife yestreen ; The monarch may forget the crown ' That on his head an hour has been ; The mother may forget the child That smiles sae sweetly on her knee ; But I'll remember thee, Glencairn, And a' that thou hast done for me ! " LINES, SENT TO SIR JOHN WHITEFORD, OF WHITEFORD, BART.
Página 79 - 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.
Página 79 - Then gently scan your brother man, Still gentler sister woman; Though they may gang a kennin' wrang, To step aside is human.
Página 164 - We know nothing, or next to nothing, of the substance or structure of our souls, so cannot account for those seeming caprices in them that one should be particularly pleased with this thing, or struck with that, which, on minds of a different cast, makes no extraordinary impression. I have some favourite flowers in spring, among which are the mountain-daisy, the harebell, the foxglove, the wild-brier rose, the budding birch, and the hoary hawthorn, that I view and hang over with particular delight.
Página 28 - He who hath bent him o'er the dead Ere the first day of death is fled, The first dark day of nothingness, The last of danger and distress, (Before Decay's effacing fingers Have swept the lines where beauty lingers...
Página 20 - And missing thee, I walk unseen On the dry smooth-shaven green. To behold the wandering moon, Riding near her highest noon. Like one that had been led astray Through the heaven's wide pathless way, And oft, as if her head she bowed, Stooping through a fleecy cloud.
Página 70 - And sic a night he taks the road in As ne'er poor sinner was abroad in. The wind blew as 'twad blawn its last; The rattling...
Página 20 - O' clod or stane, Adorns the histie stibble-field, Unseen, alane. There, in thy scanty mantle clad, Thy snawie bosom sun-ward spread, Thou lifts thy unassuming head In humble guise ; But now the share uptears thy bed, And low thou lies ! Such is the fate of artless maid, Sweet flow'ret of the rural shade ! By love's simplicity betray'd, And guileless trust, 'Till she, like thee, all soil'd, is laid Low i