The Bibliography of Robert Burns: With Biographical and Bibliographical Notes, and Sketches of Burns Clubs, Monuments and Statues ...J. McKie, 1881 - 338 strán (strany) |
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The Bibliography of Robert Burns: With Biographical and Bibliographical ... James Gibson Úplné zobrazenie - 1881 |
The Bibliography of Robert Burns: With Biographical and Bibliographical ... James Gibson Úplné zobrazenie - 1881 |
Časté výrazy a frázy
25th January Account Alexander Allan Cunningham Alloway Kirk Anniversary Auld Author Ayrshire Ballads Bard born BURNS Club BURNS Monument BURNS'S autograph celebrated Character and Condition CHIEFLY Clarinda collection containing copy Corrected Glossary Cottage Cotter's Saturday Night Criticism Currie's Edition died Doon Dumfries Edinburgh Dedication Edition of BURNS Editor Ellisland Engraved Portrait Epistle Essay Fac-simile Four volumes Frontispiece genius George Gilbert Burns Glasgow honour Illustrations Imperial Octavo J. G. Lockhart James Currie James M'Kie Jolly Beggars Kilmarnock Kilmarnock Preface Land of BURNS Letter from BURNS literary London Magazine Memoir memory of BURNS Nasmyth Newcastle-upon-Tyne Notes O'Shanter Octavo Original Paisley pieces Poems and Songs Poet POETICAL Poetry Portrait of BURNS prefixed some Observations Price printed published Quarto ROBERT BURNS Robert Chambers Scotland Scott SCOTTISH DIALECT Scottish Peasantry Scottish Song Shanter Statue Stewart Tam O'Shanter Thomas Thomson Verses Vignette William Woodcut Writings written
Populárne pasáže
Strana 118 - And steady loyalty and faithful love. And thou, sweet Poetry, thou loveliest maid, Still first to fly where sensual joys invade; Unfit, in these degenerate times of shame, To catch the heart or strike for honest fame; Dear charming nymph, neglected and decried, My shame in crowds, my solitary pride; Thou source of all my bliss and all my woe, That found' st me poor at first and keep'st me so...
Strana 120 - The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven; And , as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen Turns them to shape , and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name.
Strana 85 - 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 43 - Thro' ilka bore the beams were glancing; And loud resounded mirth and dancing. Inspiring bold John Barleycorn! What dangers thou canst make us scorn! Wi' tippenny, we fear nae evil; Wi' usquabae, we'll face the devil!
Strana 139 - To give my counsels all in one, Thy tuneful flame still careful fan ; Preserve the dignity of Man, With soul erect ; And trust, the Universal Plan Will all protect. "And wear thou this...
Strana 118 - And thou, sweet Poetry! thou loveliest maid, Still first to fly where sensual joys invade : Unfit, in these degenerate times of shame, To catch the heart, or strike for honest fame ; Dear charming nymph, neglected and decried, My shame in crowds, my solitary pride : Thou source of all my bliss, and all my woe, That found'st me poor at first, and keep'st me so; Thou guide, by which the nobler arts excel, Thou nurse of every virtue, fare thee well...
Strana 289 - Gie me ae spark o' nature's fire, That's a' the learning I desire; Then tho' I drudge thro' dub an' mire At pleugh or cart, My muse, tho' hamely in attire, May touch the heart.
Strana 237 - Yet read the names that know not death, — Few nobler ones than Burns are there, And few have won a greener wreath Than that which binds his hair.
Strana 148 - I am nae Poet, in a sense, But just a Rhymer, like, by chance, An' hae to learning nae pretence, Yet, what the matter ? Whene'er my Muse does on me glance, I jingle at her. Your critic-folk may cock their nose, And say, ' How can you e'er propose, You wha ken hardly verse frae prose, To mak a sang ?' But, by your leaves, my learned foes, Ye're maybe wrang. What's a
Strana 210 - But words are things, and a small drop of ink, Falling like dew, upon a thought, produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think...