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Arion art thou auld beauty behold beneath bosom breast breath charms coursers cried death deep delight dread e'en fair fame fate father fear feel felt fix'd fond frae Fulham gave gentle grace grave Greece grief grieved hand happy hear heard heart heaven hope hope and fear hour humble Indra kind knew lady lassie light live look look'd Lord maid mainsail maun mind muse never night numbers nymph o'er pain Palemon pass'd peace pity pleasure poor praise pride proud rapture rest Rodmond round sail scene scorn scudding seem'd shade ship shore sigh silent smile soft song soon soothe sorrow soul spirit sweet tale tears tempest thee thine thou thought trembling truth Twas vex'd voice wandering wave wcel Whyles wife wild wind wretch wyfe wyllowe youth
Seite 230 - 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 ranks 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
Seite 294 - And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; ye shall find the babe wrapped...
Seite 210 - November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh ; The short'ning winter-day is near a close ; The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh ; The black'ning trains o' craws to their repose : The toil-worn Cotter frae his labour goes, This night his weekly moil is at an end, Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes, Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend, And weary, o'er the moor, his course does hameward bend. At length his lonely cot appears in view, Beneath the shelter of an aged tree ; Th' expectant...
Seite 211 - The priest-like father reads the sacred page, How Abram was the friend of God on high ; Or, Moses bade eternal warfare wage With Amalek's ungracious progeny ; Or how the royal bard did groaning lie Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire ; Or Job's pathetic plaint and wailing cry ; Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire ; Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre. Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme, How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed ; How He, who bore in...
Seite 226 - O' my sweet Highland Mary. How sweetly bloomed the gay green birk, How rich the hawthorn's blossom, As underneath their fragrant shade I clasped 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 locked embrace Our parting was fu...
Seite 214 - Ev'n thou who mourn'st the Daisy's fate, That fate is thine— no distant date; Stern Ruin's ploughshare drives, elate, Full on thy bloom, Till crush'd beneath the furrow's weight, Shall be thy doom ! To Ruin ALL hail, inexorable lord ! At whose destruction-breathing word The mightiest empires fall!
Seite 226 - Ye banks and braes and streams around The castle o' Montgomery, Green be your woods, and fair your flowers, Your waters never drumlie ! There simmer first unfauld her robes, And there the langest tarry ; For there I took the last fareweel 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...
Seite 226 - And ne'er made sic anither! Thou art a queen, fair Lesley, Thy subjects we, before thee; Thou art divine, fair Lesley, The hearts o' men adore thee. The deil he could na scaith thee, Or aught that wad belang thee; He'd look into thy bonnie face, And say
Seite 224 - Wi' his last gasp his gab did gape; Five tomahawks, wi' bluid red-rusted; Five scimitars, wi' murder crusted; A garter, which a babe had strangled; A knife, a father's throat had mangled, Whom his ain son o...