The Ever Green: Being a Collection of Scots Poems, Band 1

Allan Ramsay
A. Donaldson, 1761 - 286 Seiten

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Seite 143 - QUOTH he, my Office I forfake, For all the hale Days of my Lyfe ; For I wald put a Houfe to Wraik, Had I been twenty Days Gudewyfe.
Seite 85 - The armies met, the trumpet sounds, The dandring drums alloud did touk, Baith armies byding on the bounds, Till ane of them the feild sould bruik. Nae help was thairfor, nane wald jouk...
Seite viii - ... to Greece or Italy for a Shade, a Stream or a Breeze. The Groves rise in our own Valleys; the Rivers flow from our own Fountains, and the Winds blow upon our own Hills. I find not Fault with those Things, as they are in Greece or Italy : But with a Northern Poet for fetching his Materials from these Places, in a Poem, of which his own Country is the Scene; as our Hymners to the Spring and Makers of Pastorals frequently do.
Seite 61 - The man that will not when he may, " Sail have nocht when he wald. " I pray to heaven baith nicht and day, " Be eikd their cares fae cauld, " That prefles firft with thee to play 95
Seite 62 - And quyt brocht till an end : And nevir again thereto, perfay, Sail it be as thou wend ; For of my pain thou made but play ; I words in vain did spend : As thou hast done, sae sail I say, Murn on, I think to mend.
Seite 139 - And bynt a Gad-ftaff in her Hand: Up the Gudeman raife aftir fyne, And faw the Wyfe had done Command. VIII. HE draif the Gaiflings forth to feid, 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.
Seite 138 - 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 93 - He come his cunnyng till assay, To sum man thair it was no play. The preving of his sciens. In pottingry he wrocht grit pyne, He murdreist mony in medecyne, 30 The jow was of a grit engyne And generit was of gyans.
Seite 138 - The morn ze fall gae wi' the lad, And fyne zeil ken what drinkers drie. Gudeman, quod fcho, content am I, To tak the plewch my day about, Sae ye rule weel the kaves and ky, And all the houfe baith in and out : And now fen ze haif made the law, Then gyde all richt and do not break ; They ficker raid that neir did faw, Therefore let naething be neglecl.
Seite 212 - Ryal Bours, And Baliol Homage pays ; Throch Feidom our Freidom Is blotit with this Skore, Quhat Romans or no Mans Pith culd eir do befoir.

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