Poems, Zväzok 1

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trustees of the late James Morison, 1811
 

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Strana 176 - Together hymning their Creator's praise, In such society, yet still more dear; While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere. XVII. Compar'd with this how poor religion's pride, In all the pomp of method, and of art, When men display to congregations wide, Devotion's every grace, except the heart ! The
Strana 191 - Adorns the histie stibble-field, Unseen, alane. There, in thy scanty mantle clad, Thy snawie bosom sun-ward spread, Thou lifts thy unassuming head In humble guise -, But now the share uptears thy bed, And low thou lies! Such is the fate of artless maid, Sweet flow'ret of the rural shade ! By love's simplicity betray'd, And guileless trust,
Strana 174 - no heart-felt raptures raise; Nae unison hae they with our Creator's praise. XIV. The priest-like father reads the sacred page, How Abram was the friend of GOD on high; Or, Moses bade eternal warfare wage With Amalek's ungracious progeny; Or how the royal bard did groaning lye Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire; Or
Strana 175 - XVI. Then kneeling down to HEAVEN'S ETERNAL KING, The saint, the father, and the husband, prays : Hope ' springs exulting on triumphant wing *,' That thus they all shall meet in future days : There, ever bask in uncreated rays, No more to sigh or shed the bitter tear,
Strana 143 - cauld 1 But, mousie, thou art no thy lane, In proving foresight may be vain: The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men, Gang aft a-gley, An' lea'e us nought but grief and pain, For promis'd joy, Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me ! The present only toucheth thee: But, Och ! I backward cast my e'e, On prospects drear
Strana 190 - Wi' spreckl'd breast, Cauld blew the bitter-biting North Upon thy early, humble birth; Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth Amid the storm, Scarce rear'd above the parent-earth Thy tender form. The flaunting flow'rs our gardens yield, High shelt'ring woods and wa's maun shield But thou, beneath the random bield O
Strana 143 - men, Gang aft a-gley, An' lea'e us nought but grief and pain, For promis'd joy, Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me ! The present only toucheth thee: But, Och ! I backward cast my e'e, On prospects drear 1 An' forward, tho' I canna see, I guess an
Strana 118 - Yes! let the rich deride, the proud disdain, " The simple pleasures of the lowly train : " To me more dear, congenial to my heart, " One native charm, than all the gloss of art." I. GOLDSMITH. UPON that night, when fairies light, On Cassilis Downans\
Strana 170 - Wi' joy unfeign'd brothers and sisters meet, An' each for other's weelfare kindly speirs: 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
Strana 197 - 1786. I. I LANG hae thought, my youthfu' friend, A something to have sent you, Tho' it should serve nae other end Than just a kind memento ,But how the subject-theme may gang, Let time and chance determine; Perhaps, it may turn out a sang; Perhaps, turn out a sermon. II.

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