The Wife of Auchtermuchty,: An Ancient Scottish Poem. With a Translation Into Latin Rhyme

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A. Neill and Company, 1803 - 24 Seiten

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Seite 10 - Thair was but fevenfum of them aw, And by thair comes the greidy Gled, And lickt up five, left him but twa: Then out he ran in all his Mane, How fune he hard the Gaiflings cry; But than or he came in again, The Kaves brak loufe and fuckt the Ky. IX. THE Kaves and Ky met in the Loan...
Seite 19 - Et in catalogis librorum . Frazer could never stand before him; For he, by page and leaf, can quote More books than Solomon ere wrote. A lover of the mathematics He is, but hates the hydrostatics, Because he thinks it a cold study, To deal in water clear or muddy.
Seite 22 - Nor fhall we here fay more about him, But you may dacker if you doubt him. Addamus tamen hoc tantillum, Duntaxat noftrum hoc figillum, Huic teftimonio appenfum, Ad confirmandum ejus fenfum, Junctis chirographis cunctorum, Blyth, honeft, hearty fociorum.
Seite 8 - Keip weil the gaiflings frae the gled : The wyfe was up richt late at ene, I pray luck gife her ill to fair, Scho kirn'd the kirn, and...
Seite 21 - And does ten thousand other things ; Allow a line, nay, but a comma, To each, turgeret hoc diploma ; Quare ; ut tandem concludamus, Qui brevitatem approbamus (For brevity is always good, Providing we be understood).
Seite 16 - XV. THEN up he gat on a Know-heid, On hir to cry, on hir to fchout: Scho hard him, and fcho hard him not, But ftoutly fteird the Stots about.
Seite 12 - The kaves and ky met in the loan, The man ran with a rung to red, Than by came an illwilly roan, And brodit his buttoks till they bled : Syne up he tuke a rok of tow, And he sat down to sey the spinning ; He loutit doun our neir the low, Quod he this wark has ill beginning.
Seite 10 - THE Wyfe was up richt late at Ene, I pray Luck gife her ill to fair, > Scho kirn'd the Kirn, and fkumt it clene, Left the Gudeman but...
Seite 16 - I fall neir accept it; Quoth he, Feynd fa the Lyars Face, But zit ze may be blyth to get it.
Seite 12 - HYND to the Kirn then did he ftoure, And jumblit at it till he fwat, Quhen he had rumblit a full lang Hour, The Sorrow crap of Butter he gat; Albeit nae Butter he could get, Zit he was cummert with the Kirn, And fyne he het the Milk fae het, That ill a Spark of it wad zyrne. XII. THEN ben thair cam a greidy Sow, I trow he cund hir litle Thank: For in fcho fhot hir mekle Mow, And ay fcho...

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