Poems, chiefly in the Scottish dialect: By Robert Burns. In two volumes. ...

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printed by William Magee, 1793
 

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Seite 127 - The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace, The big ha'-Bible, ance his father's pride : His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside, His lyart haffets wearing thin an' bare ; Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, He wales a portion with judicious care, And " Let us worship God !
Seite 32 - Leeze me on Drink ! it gi'es us mair Than either School or College : It kindles Wit, it waukens Lair, It pangs us fou o
Seite 128 - An honest man's the noblest work of God :* And certes, in fair virtue's heavenly road, The cottage leaves the .palace far behind ; What is a lordling's pomp?
Seite 59 - Groat's ; If there's a hole in a* your coats, I rede you tent it : A chield's amang you, taking notes, And, faith, he'll prent it.
Seite 218 - They filled up a darksome pit With water to the brim, They heaved in John Barleycorn, There let him sink or swim. They laid him out upon the floor, To work him farther woe, And still, as signs of life appear'd, They toss'd him to and fro.
Seite 126 - Is there, in human form, that bears a heart A wretch! a villain! lost to love and truth! That can, with studied, sly, ensnaring art, Betray sweet Jenny's unsuspecting youth?
Seite 140 - It's no in making muckle, mair : It's no in books, it's no in lear, To make us truly blest : If happiness hae not her seat And centre in the breast, We may be wise, or rich, or great, But never can be blest : Nae treasures, nor pleasures, Could make us happy lang ; The heart ay's the part ay, That makes us right or wrang. Think ye, that sic as you and I, Wha drudge and drive thro...
Seite 51 - Whom his ain son o' life bereft, The grey hairs yet stack to the heft ; Wi' mair o' horrible and awfu', Which ev"n to name wad be unlawfu'. As Tammie glowr'd, amaz'd, and curious, The mirth and fun grew fast and furious : The piper loud and louder blew ; The dancers quick and quicker flew ; They...
Seite 125 - An' each for other's weelfare kindly spiers : The social hours, swift-wing'd, unnotic'd fleet ; Each tells the uncos that he sees or hears ; The parents, partial, eye their hopeful years ; Anticipation forward points the view. The mother, wi' her needle an' her sheers, Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new; The father mixes a
Seite 65 - But, fare you weel, auld Nickie-ben ! O wad ye tak a thought an' men' ! Ye aiblins might — I dinna ken — Still hae a stake : I'm wae to think upo...

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