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]. |
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Página ix
... had almost dissuaded us from anticipating in any degree the track of enquiry
he has chosen . But as an undertaking of this nature must be the result of time
and laborious research , we imagine our desultery remarks and scattered hints
will ...
... had almost dissuaded us from anticipating in any degree the track of enquiry
he has chosen . But as an undertaking of this nature must be the result of time
and laborious research , we imagine our desultery remarks and scattered hints
will ...
Página x
In the absence of positive proof , we must therefore be contented with that
species of evidence which the nature of circumstances , and the partial and
indistinct glimmerings of legitiinate history supply , however unsatisfactory ,
hypothetical , or ...
In the absence of positive proof , we must therefore be contented with that
species of evidence which the nature of circumstances , and the partial and
indistinct glimmerings of legitiinate history supply , however unsatisfactory ,
hypothetical , or ...
Página 77
While ilka thing in nature join Their sorrows to forego , O why thus , all alone , are
mine The weary steps of woe ! The trout within yon wimpling burn , That glides a
silver dart , And safe beneath the shady thorn Defies the angler ' s art : My life ...
While ilka thing in nature join Their sorrows to forego , O why thus , all alone , are
mine The weary steps of woe ! The trout within yon wimpling burn , That glides a
silver dart , And safe beneath the shady thorn Defies the angler ' s art : My life ...
Página 189
Sol , emerging from the main , Shakes effulgence from his wings , Gladness flows
o ' er hill and plain , Nature smiles , and nature sings . Down yon green
embroider ' d vale , Bright with dew - with violets gay , Let us meet the morning
gale , Let ...
Sol , emerging from the main , Shakes effulgence from his wings , Gladness flows
o ' er hill and plain , Nature smiles , and nature sings . Down yon green
embroider ' d vale , Bright with dew - with violets gay , Let us meet the morning
gale , Let ...
Página 333
Yes , winter , though icicles hang on thy brow , And nature disconsolate mourns ;
. . Yet Scotia will ever exult in thy reign , in For she owes thee the birth of a Burns .
When your bellowing tempests , incessant and deep , Terrificly howl through ...
Yes , winter , though icicles hang on thy brow , And nature disconsolate mourns ;
. . Yet Scotia will ever exult in thy reign , in For she owes thee the birth of a Burns .
When your bellowing tempests , incessant and deep , Terrificly howl through ...
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Termos e frases comuns
appear beauty bonny bosom breast bright charms cheek cold dark dear death deep delight dream fair fate father fear feel flower frae give grave hand happy head hear heard heart heaven hills hope hour I'll John kind known lady land lassie leave light live look maid mair Mary meet mind morning mountain native nature ne'er never night o'er once peace piece pleasure poem poet poor present rest rise rose round scenes side sigh sing sleep smile song soon sorrow soul sound spirit sweet tear tell thee There's thing thou thought tree true Twas wander wave weary weel weep wild Willy wind written young youth
Passagens mais conhecidas
Página 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.
Página 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.
Página 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, —...
Página 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.
Página 414 - With coral clasps and amber studs: And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me and be my love.
Página 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.
Página 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.
Página 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...
Página 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.
Página 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...
Informações bibliográficas
| Título | 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]. |
| Autor | Renfrew county |
| Editor | William Motherwell |
| Colaborador | Scottish poets |
| Publicado | 1821 |
| Original de | Oxford University |
| Digitalizado | 26 set. 2006 |
| Exportar citação | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |