The Poems of Allan Ramsay, Zväzok 2

Predný obal
A. Strahan, 1800
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Strana 278 - Gae pu' the gowan in its prime, Before it wither and decay. Watch the saft minutes of delyte, When Jenny speaks beneath her breath, And kisses, laying a' the wyte On you, if she kepp ony skaith.
Strana 66 - I wish nae mair of a' that's rare. My Peggy speaks sae sweetly, To a' the lave I'm cauld; But she gars a' my spirits glow, At wauking of the fauld. My Peggy smiles sae kindly, Whene'er I whisper love. That I look down on a' the town, — That I look down upon a crown.
Strana 66 - Just entered in her teens, Fair as the day, and sweet as May, Fair as the day, and always gay; My Peggy is a young thing, And I'm not very auld, Yet well I like to meet her at The wauking of the fauld. My Peggy speaks sae sweetly Whene'er we meet alane, I wish nae mair to lay my care, I wish nae mair of a...
Strana 85 - ... kindness smile, When our short passions wad our peace beguile ; Sae whensoe'er they slight their maiks at hame, 'Tis ten to ane the wives are maist to blame. Then I'll employ wi' pleasure a' my art To keep him cheerfu', and secure his heart.
Strana 237 - Polwart on the Green If you'll meet me the morn, Where lasses do convene To dance about the thorn, A kindly welcome you shall meet Frae her wha likes to view A lover and a lad complete, The lad and lover you.
Strana 84 - With glooman brow the laird seeks in his rent, — 'Tis no to gie, your merchant's to the bent ; His honour maunna want, — he poinds your gear ; Syne driven frae house and hald, where will ye steer ?Dear Meg, be wise, and lead a single life ; Troth, 'tis nae mows to be a married wife ! PEGGY. May sic ill luck befa...
Strana 246 - I'll bring a heart to thee with love running o'er, And then I'll leave thee and Lochaber no more.
Strana 83 - When a' they ettle at — their greatest wish, Is to be. made of, and obtain a kiss ? Can there be toil in tenting day and night The like of them, when love makes care delight ? Jen. But poortith, Peggy, is the warst of a...
Strana 69 - That thou may'st thole the pangs of mony a loss ! 0 may'st thou doat on some fair paughty wench, That ne'er will lout thy lowan drowth to quench; Till bris'd beneath the burden, thou cry dool ; And awn that ane may fret that is nac fool.
Strana 263 - AN THOU WERE MY AIN THING. AN thou were my ain thing, I would love thee, I would love thee ; An thou were my ain thing How dearly would I love thee. Like bees that suck the morning dew Frae flowers of sweetest scent and hue, Sae wad I dwell upo' thy mou, And gar the gods envy me.

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