The Works of Robert Burns: With an Account of His Life , and a Criticism on His Writing. To which are Prefixed, Some Observations on the Character and Condition of the Scottish Peasantry, Volume 4T. Cadell and W. Davies ; and W. Creech at Edinburgh, 1813 |
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Página xiii
... wind o'er Donocht- head , " in a note , 172 LXI . Mr. T. to Mr. B. Wishes he knew the in- spiring Fair One - Ritson's historical essay not interesting - Allan - Maggie Lawder , 185 LXII . Mr. B. to Mr. T. Has begun his Anecdotes , & c ...
... wind o'er Donocht- head , " in a note , 172 LXI . Mr. T. to Mr. B. Wishes he knew the in- spiring Fair One - Ritson's historical essay not interesting - Allan - Maggie Lawder , 185 LXII . Mr. B. to Mr. T. Has begun his Anecdotes , & c ...
Página xxi
... wind o'er Donocht - Head Ken ye ought o ' Captain Grose ? Kind Sir , I've read your paper through Lassie wi ' the lintwhite locks • Last May a braw wooer cam down the lang glen Let me wander where I will . Let not woman e'er complain ...
... wind o'er Donocht - Head Ken ye ought o ' Captain Grose ? Kind Sir , I've read your paper through Lassie wi ' the lintwhite locks • Last May a braw wooer cam down the lang glen Let me wander where I will . Let not woman e'er complain ...
Página xxii
... wind and rain · O this is no my ain lassie O thou who kindly dost provide O Tibbie , I hae seen the day O wat ye wha's in yon town O wha is she that lo'es me O were I on Parnassus ' hill · • O were my love yon lilac fair O whistle and I ...
... wind and rain · O this is no my ain lassie O thou who kindly dost provide O Tibbie , I hae seen the day O wat ye wha's in yon town O wha is she that lo'es me O were I on Parnassus ' hill · • O were my love yon lilac fair O whistle and I ...
Página xxiii
... wind can blaw Old Winter with his frosty beard Raving winds around her blowing Revered defender of beauteous Stuart Sae flaxen were her ringlets • Scots , wha hae wi ' Wallace bled Sensibility , how charming She is a winsome wee thing ...
... wind can blaw Old Winter with his frosty beard Raving winds around her blowing Revered defender of beauteous Stuart Sae flaxen were her ringlets • Scots , wha hae wi ' Wallace bled Sensibility , how charming She is a winsome wee thing ...
Página 9
... wind blew , the sky lowered , and the thunder murmured : such circumstances might render their meeting still more interesting . But if the night were actually wet , why should they meet on the lea - rig ? On a wet night the imagination ...
... wind blew , the sky lowered , and the thunder murmured : such circumstances might render their meeting still more interesting . But if the night were actually wet , why should they meet on the lea - rig ? On a wet night the imagination ...
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The Works of Robert Burns: With an Account of His Life , and a ..., Volume 4 Robert Burns Visualização completa - 1813 |
Termos e frases comuns
ae night ain dear Allan Allan Ramsay alter amang anec anither auld lang syne ballad bard beautiful blithe bonnie bosom braes BURNS Caledonia Cauld charming Chloris CHORUS claute Coila Dainty Davie dear Sir dearest dearie Deil delight Dumfries Duncan Gray Ecclefechan Edinburgh English song English verses fair favourite fine air flowers frae Galla Water give glen hame heart heaven Highland John Anderson lass lassie Lassie wi lea-rig Leiger lines lo'es Lord Gregory lover mair Mary maun melodies merit Mill mony muse Museum Nancy Nanie ne'er never o'er Phillis Pindar pleased pleasure Pleyel poet poetry poor Rob Morris Saw ye Scots Scottish singing stanza suit sung sweet syne taste tell thee thine THOMSON thro tune wander wee thing wild Willie wilt thou young JESSIE
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Página 217 - Guid faith he mauna fa' that. For a' that, and a' that, Their dignities, and a' that ; The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth, Are higher rank than a that. Then let us pray that come it may, As come it will for a' that ; That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth, May bear the gree, and a' that. For a
Página 125 - Wha will be a traitor knave ? Wha can fill a coward's grave? Wha sae base as be a slave? Let him turn and flee! Wha for Scotland's King and law Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Freeman stand, or freeman fa...
Página 216 - THAT AND A' THAT" Is there, for honest Poverty, That hangs his head, and a' that! The coward slave, we pass him by, We dare be poor for a
Página 330 - Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes, Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays; My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream — Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream ! HIGHLAND MARY Ye banks, and braes, and streams around The castle o...
Página 41 - It is the wish'd, the trysted hour! Those smiles and glances let me see, That make the miser's treasure poor: How...
Página 341 - 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 : And I will luve thee still, my Dear, While the sands o
Página 300 - John Anderson my jo, John, When we were first acquent, Your locks were like the raven, Your bonnie brow was brent; But now your brow is beld, John, Your locks are like the snow; But blessings on your frosty pow, John Anderson, my jo. John Anderson my jo, John, We clamb the hill thegither; And mony a canty day, John, We've had wi...
Página 216 - A man's a man for a' that ; For a' that, and a' that, Their tinsel show, and a' that : The honest man, though e'er sae poor, Is king o' men for a' that. Ye see yon birkie, ca'da lord, Wha struts, and stares, and a' that ; Though hundreds worship at his word, He's but a coof for a' that : For a' that, and a' that, His riband, star, and a' that, The man of independent mind, He looks and laughs at a
Página 18 - 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...
Página 214 - The snawdrap and primrose our woodlands adorn, And violets bathe in the weet o' the morn, They pain my sad bosom, sae sweetly they blaw; They mind me o...