Robert Burns: As a Poet, and as a ManBaker and Scribner, 1848 - 209 páginas |
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Página iv
... thoughts and the diction of the poet , that in all ages he has been said to be inspired : A special gift of divinity has been thought to be vouchsafed to him . When God put the harp into the hand of David , he conferred greater glory ...
... thoughts and the diction of the poet , that in all ages he has been said to be inspired : A special gift of divinity has been thought to be vouchsafed to him . When God put the harp into the hand of David , he conferred greater glory ...
Página vi
... thought of futurity , if she confined all her views within those limits which bound our present existence , she would neither waste her strength on so great toils , nor harass herself with so many cares and watchings , nor struggle so ...
... thought of futurity , if she confined all her views within those limits which bound our present existence , she would neither waste her strength on so great toils , nor harass herself with so many cares and watchings , nor struggle so ...
Página 11
... thought presumptuous , that I should try my unskilled hand upon the theory of the beautiful , after so many masters have failed in efforts to discover and set it forth : that I should hope to embrace ideal beauty in my arms , when she ...
... thought presumptuous , that I should try my unskilled hand upon the theory of the beautiful , after so many masters have failed in efforts to discover and set it forth : that I should hope to embrace ideal beauty in my arms , when she ...
Página 27
... thoughts , its feelings , its emotions , its love ; for every part of the form breathes forth expression . Even the ... thought . This , then , is the great truth which lies at the foundation of the theory of the beautiful : The beauty ...
... thoughts , its feelings , its emotions , its love ; for every part of the form breathes forth expression . Even the ... thought . This , then , is the great truth which lies at the foundation of the theory of the beautiful : The beauty ...
Página 31
... thought , that it is the moonbeam in the stream , which heightens , by its own inherent power alone , the beauty of the love in the breast of the maiden . But it is just the reverse . It was bonnie Jean who awakened , in the bosom of ...
... thought , that it is the moonbeam in the stream , which heightens , by its own inherent power alone , the beauty of the love in the breast of the maiden . But it is just the reverse . It was bonnie Jean who awakened , in the bosom of ...
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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