The Works of Robert Burns: With His Life, Zväzok 3Cochrane and M'Crone, 1834 - 394 strán (strany) |
Vyhľadávanie v obsahu knihy
Výsledky 1 - 5 z 51.
Strana 5
... hand ; And making demi - volte in air , Cried , Where's the coward that would not dare To fight for such a land ! ' " Other points of the landscape attracted the Poet's notice . " He was passionately fond , " says Dugald Stewart , " of ...
... hand ; And making demi - volte in air , Cried , Where's the coward that would not dare To fight for such a land ! ' " Other points of the landscape attracted the Poet's notice . " He was passionately fond , " says Dugald Stewart , " of ...
Strana 10
... hand - waled curse keep hard in chase The harpy , hoodock , purse - proud race , Wha count on poortith as disgrace- Their tuneless hearts ! May fireside discords jar a base To a ' their parts ! But come , your hand , my careless brither ...
... hand - waled curse keep hard in chase The harpy , hoodock , purse - proud race , Wha count on poortith as disgrace- Their tuneless hearts ! May fireside discords jar a base To a ' their parts ! But come , your hand , my careless brither ...
Strana 11
With His Life Robert Burns, Allan Cunningham. But come , your hand , my careless brither , I'th ' ither warl ' if there's anither , An ' that there is I've little swither About the matter ; We cheek for chow shall jog thegither , I'se ne ...
With His Life Robert Burns, Allan Cunningham. But come , your hand , my careless brither , I'th ' ither warl ' if there's anither , An ' that there is I've little swither About the matter ; We cheek for chow shall jog thegither , I'se ne ...
Strana 14
... panegyric close , With all the venal soul of dedicating prose ? No ! though his artless strains he rudely sings , And throws his hand uncouthly o'er the strings , He glows with all the spirit of the Bard , 14 THE BRIGS OF AVR.
... panegyric close , With all the venal soul of dedicating prose ? No ! though his artless strains he rudely sings , And throws his hand uncouthly o'er the strings , He glows with all the spirit of the Bard , 14 THE BRIGS OF AVR.
Strana 15
... hands the rustic stranger up to fame , With heartfelt throes his grateful bosom swells , The godlike bliss , to give , alone excels . " Twas when the stacks get on their winter - hap , And thack and rape secure the toil - won crap ...
... hands the rustic stranger up to fame , With heartfelt throes his grateful bosom swells , The godlike bliss , to give , alone excels . " Twas when the stacks get on their winter - hap , And thack and rape secure the toil - won crap ...
Iné vydania - Zobraziť všetky
The Works of Robert Burns: With His Life, Zväzok 3 Robert Burns,Allan Cunningham Úplné zobrazenie - 1834 |
The Works of Robert Burns; with His Life, Zväzok 3 Robert Burns,Allan Cunningham Úplné zobrazenie - 1834 |
The Works of Robert Burns; with His Life, Zväzok 3 Robert Burns,Allan Cunningham Úplné zobrazenie - 1834 |
Časté výrazy a frázy
Alloway Kirk amang auld ballad bard beautiful better blast blest bonnie braw Brig Bruar Burns carlin copy coram Craigdarroch dago dear death Dugald Stewart Dumfries e'en e'er Edinburgh Ellisland epistle fair fame fate Fintray frae Friar's-Carse Galloway gane Glencairn Glenriddel grace Graham happy heart Heron Highland honest honour Igo and ago Iram Jenny Geddes John John Barleycorn kirk lady lassie Lincluden lines Lord M'Murdo maun meikle mony mourn muse native ne'er never night Nith Nithside noble o'er Peg Nicholson pity pleasure poem Poet Poet's poetic poor pride rhyme Riddel roar Robert ROBERT BURNS says scene Scota Scotland Scots Scottish Shanter sing song soul stream sweet tears thee There's thou thro troggin verses weel Whigs whistle wild Willie's awa worth written wrote ye'll
Populárne pasáže
Strana 170 - Or like the Borealis race, That flit ere you can point their place; Or like the rainbow's lovely form, Evanishing amid the storm.-— Nae man can tether time or tide, The hour approaches, Tam maun ride ; That hour o...
Strana 205 - The bridegroom may forget the bride Was made his wedded wife yestreen ; The monarch may forget the crown ' That on his head an hour has been ; The mother may forget the child That smiles sae sweetly on her knee ; But I'll remember thee, Glencairn, And a' that thou hast done for me ! " LINES, SENT TO SIR JOHN WHITEFORD, OF WHITEFORD, BART.
Strana 175 - As open pussie's mortal foes, When, pop! she starts before their nose; As eager runs the market-crowd, When "Catch the thief!" resounds aloud; So Maggie runs, the witches follow, Wi' mony an eldritch skreich and hollo.
Strana 169 - O'er a' the ills o' life victorious! But pleasures are like poppies spread: You seize the flow'r, its bloom is shed; Or like the snow falls in the river, A moment white - then melts for ever; Or like the Borealis race, That flit ere you can point their place; Or like the rainbow's lovely form Evanishing amid the storm. Nae man can tether time or tide; The hour approaches Tam maun ride: That hour, o...
Strana 173 - Thir breeks o' mine, my only pair, That ance were plush, o' guid blue hair, I wad hae gi'en them off my hurdies For ae blink o
Strana 172 - Nae cotillon brent new frae France, But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels, Put life and mettle in their heels. A winnock-bunker in the east, There sat auld Nick in shape o...
Strana 174 - Paisley harn, That while a lassie she had worn, In longitude tho' sorely scanty, It was her best, and she was vauntie. Ah ! little ken'd thy reverend grannie, That sark she coft for her wee Nannie, Wi...
Strana 38 - ... in the whole strain of his bearing and conversation, a most thorough conviction, that, in the society of the most eminent men of his nation, he was exactly where he was entitled to be ; hardly deigned to flatter them by exhibiting even an occasional symptom of being flattered...
Strana 47 - And wi' the lave ilk merry morn Could rank my rig and lass, Still shearing, and clearing The tither stocked raw, Wi' claivers, an' haivers, Wearing the day awa : Ev'n then a wish, (I mind its power,) A wish that to my latest hour Shall strongly heave my breast ; That I for poor auld Scotland's sake, Some usefu' plan, or beuk could make, Or sing a sang at least.
Strana 333 - And turn'd him o'er and o'er. 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. They wasted, o'er a scorching flame, The marrow of his bones ; But a miller us'd him worst of all, For he crush'd him between two stones.