Carlyle's Essays on Burns: With the Cotter's Saturday Night and Other Poems from BurnsMacMillan, 1910 - 186 strán (strany) |
Vyhľadávanie v obsahu knihy
Výsledky 1 - 5 z 13.
Strana vii
... Mourn 1 103 112 • Prayer in Prospect of Death My Father was a Farmer 116 117 The Farmer's Salutation to his Mare 120 To a Mouse 125 The Wounded Hare • 127 Poor Mailie's Elegy 128 • A Winter Night Winter PAGE • 131 · 135 To vii.
... Mourn 1 103 112 • Prayer in Prospect of Death My Father was a Farmer 116 117 The Farmer's Salutation to his Mare 120 To a Mouse 125 The Wounded Hare • 127 Poor Mailie's Elegy 128 • A Winter Night Winter PAGE • 131 · 135 To vii.
Strana 11
... mourn his death as that of a benefactor who loved and taught us . Such a gift had Nature , in her bounty , bestowed on 20 us in Robert Burns ; but with queenlike indifference she cast it from her hand , like a thing of no moment ; and ...
... mourn his death as that of a benefactor who loved and taught us . Such a gift had Nature , in her bounty , bestowed on 20 us in Robert Burns ; but with queenlike indifference she cast it from her hand , like a thing of no moment ; and ...
Strana 90
... mourned over it , rather than blamed it . It was the want of unity in his purposes , of consistency in his aims ; the hapless attempt to mingle in friendly union 5 the common spirit of the world with the spirit of poetry , which is of a ...
... mourned over it , rather than blamed it . It was the want of unity in his purposes , of consistency in his aims ; the hapless attempt to mingle in friendly union 5 the common spirit of the world with the spirit of poetry , which is of a ...
Strana 111
... ) O never , never , Scotia's realm desert ; But still the patriot , and the patriot - bard In bright succession raise , her ornament and guard ! MAN WAS MADE TO MOURN A DIRGE WHEN chill November's THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT 111.
... ) O never , never , Scotia's realm desert ; But still the patriot , and the patriot - bard In bright succession raise , her ornament and guard ! MAN WAS MADE TO MOURN A DIRGE WHEN chill November's THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT 111.
Strana 112
... MOURN A DIRGE WHEN chill November's surly blast Made fields and forests bare , One ev❜ning as I wander'd forth Along the banks of Ayr , I spy'd a man , whose agèd step Seem'd weary , worn with care ; His ... MOURN Man was made to Mourn 1.
... MOURN A DIRGE WHEN chill November's surly blast Made fields and forests bare , One ev❜ning as I wander'd forth Along the banks of Ayr , I spy'd a man , whose agèd step Seem'd weary , worn with care ; His ... MOURN Man was made to Mourn 1.
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auld lang syne banks of Ayr beauty Biography bonie bosom braes brother Burns's Carlyle's character Craigenputtock critic dark earth Edinburgh Review Edited English Essay on Burns Farewell fate father feeling French genius gift Goethe Hawthorne's heart Heroes heroic High School Highlands humor Iliad Irving's Isle of Dogs John John Anderson Julius Cæsar labor letter light literary literature live London Longfellow's look Macaulay's Essay man's mind mony moral mourn nature ne'er ness never night noble o'er Palgrave's Golden Treasury perhaps philosophy pity plough poet poetic poetry poor pride Prose Robert Burns Sae rantingly Sartor Resartus Scots wha hae Scott's Scottish Shakespeare's Shorter Poems Songs soul spirit Sugh sweet thee things Thomas Car Thomas Carlyle thou thro tion toil true University weary wild wind woes words wretch writings
Populárne pasáže
Strana 108 - The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace, The big ha-Bible, ance his father's pride; His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside, His lyart haffets wearing thin an' bare; Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, He wales a portion with judicious care; And "Let us worship God!
Strana 177 - I was confirmed in this opinion, that he who would not be frustrate of his hope to write well hereafter in laudable things, ought himself to be a true poem...
Strana 150 - O, WERT thou in the cauld blast, On yonder lea, on yonder lea, My plaidie to the angry airt, I'd shelter thee, I'd shelter thee. Or did misfortune's bitter storms Around thee blaw, around thee blaw, Thy bield should be my bosom, To share it a', to share it a'.
Strana 153 - MY HEART'S IN THE HIGHLANDS MY heart's in the Highland's, my heart is not here ; My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer ; Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe, My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go.
Strana 136 - An' forward, tho' I canna see, TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY. ON TURNING ONE DOWN WITH THE PLOUGH, IN APRIL, 1786. WEE, modest, crimson-tipped flow'r, Thou's met me in an evil hour ; For I maun crush amang the stoure Thy slender stem. To spare thee now is past my pow'r, Thou bonie gem. Alas ! it's no thy neebor sweet, The bonie Lark, companion meet ! Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet ! Wi' spreckl'd breast, When upward-springing, blythe, to greet The purpling east.
Strana 138 - Thy snawie bosom sunward spread, Thou lifts thy unassuming head In humble guise ; But now the share uptears thy bed, And low thou lies...
Strana 111 - Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content! And oh ! may Heaven their simple lives prevent From luxury's contagion, weak and vile ! Then, howe'er crowns and coronets be rent, A virtuous populace may rise the while, And stand a wall of fire around their much-loved Isle. O Thou! who pour'd the patriotic tide That stream'd thro...
Strana 35 - I never hear the loud solitary whistle of the curlew in a summer noon, or the wild mixing cadence of a troop of gray plover in an autumnal morning, without feeling an elevation of soul like the enthusiasm of devotion or poetry.
Strana 158 - Our toils obscure, and a* that ; The rank is but the guinea's stamp ; The man's the gowd for a* that. What tho' on hamely fare we dine, Wear hodden-gray, and a' that ; Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine, A man's a man for a
Strana 137 - mang the dewy weet ! Wi' spreckl'd breast, "When upward-springing, blythe, to greet, The purpling east. 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 flowers our gardens yield, High shelt'ring woods and wa's maun shield ; But thou, beneath the random bield O' clod or stane, Adorns the histie stibble-field Unseen, alane.