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appear Auld baith beauty bonny Braid breath bright bring busy cause cheer circumstances dark dead death delight face fair Fancy fear feelings Fergusson fields fouk frae friends genius give green groves grow gude hand happy hath head hear heard heart hills hopes ilka Italy kind leave light live look mair maun mind mony morn mourn Muse Music Nature ne'er never night numbers o'er owre plain play poor reign Robert rose round scene seems seen shade shore shou'd sigh sing smiles song sons soon sounds spring stand strain streams swain sweet tear tell thee there's thou thought thro Till tongue turn Twas virtue voice waters weel Whan Whare wing youth
Seite 116 - O ! who can hold a fire in his hand By thinking on the frosty Caucasus? Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite By bare imagination of a feast?
Seite 288 - And dim our dolefu' days wi' bairnly fear ; The mind's aye cradled when the grave is near. Yet thrift, industrious, bides her latest days, Tho' age her sair-dow'd front wi' runcles wave ; Yet frae the russet lap the spindle plays ; Her e'enin stent reels she as weel's the lave. On some feast-day the wee things, buskit braw, Shall heeze her heart up wi...
Seite 247 - While he draws breath, Till his four quarters are bedeckit Wi' gude Braid Claith. On Sabbath-days the barber spark, Whan he has done wi...
Seite 66 - No sculptured marble here, nor pompous lay, ' No storied urn nor animated bust ;' This simple stone directs pale Scotia's way To pour her sorrows o'er her poet's dust.
Seite 198 - When you censure the age, Be cautious and sage, Lest the courtiers offended, should be ; If you mention vice or bribe, 'Tis so pat to all the tribe, Each cries — That was levelld at me.
Seite 313 - I'd been there, How I wad trimm'd the bill o' fare ! For ne'er sic surly wight as he Had met wi' sic respect frae me. Mind ye what Sam,' the lying loun ! Has in his Dictionar laid down ? That aits in England are a feast To cow an' horse, an' sican beast, While in Scots ground this growth was common To gust the gab o
Seite 132 - O great god Pan, to thee Thus do we sing ! Thou that keep'st us chaste and free As the young spring ; Ever be thy honour spoke, From that place the Morn is broke To that place Day doth unyoke...
Seite 243 - HAPPY the man who, void of cares and strife, In silken or in leathern purse retains A Splendid Shilling.