The land of Burns, a series of landscapes and portraits, the landscapes from paintings by D.O. Hill, the literary department by prof. Wilson and R. Chambers

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Seite 30 - Far marked with the courses of clear winding rills; There daily I wander as noon rises high, My flocks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eye. . How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below, Where wild in the woodlands the primroses blow; There oft as mild Evening weeps over the lea, The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me.
Seite 80 - Mary! dear departed shade! Where is thy place of blissful rest? See'st thou thy lover lowly laid? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?
Seite 81 - Time but the impression deeper makes, As streams their channels deeper wear. My Mary! dear, departed shade! Where Is thy place of blissful rest?
Seite 67 - Mr. Robert Burns was some time in the parish of Tarbolton prior to my acquaintance with him. His social disposition easily procured him acquaintance ; but a certain satirical seasoning, with which he and all poetical geniuses are in some degree influenced, while it set the rustic circle in a roar, was not unaccompanied by its kindred attendant, suspicious fear.
Seite 47 - Tam wi' furious ettle; But little wist she Maggie's mettle — Ae spring brought off her master hale, But left behind her ain gray tail : The carlin caught her by the rump, And left poor Maggie scarce a stump. Now, wha this tale o...
Seite 80 - O pale, pale now, those rosy lips, I aft hae kiss'd sae fondly ! And closed for aye the sparkling glance That dwelt on me sae kindly : And mouldering now in silent dust That heart that lo'ed me dearly ! But still within my bosom's core Shall live my Highland Mary.

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