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auld Ballochmyle banks Beneath bonie bosom breast brother Burns Castle charms dear death Dumfries EPISTLE Ev'n ev'ry face fair farm fate father fear Flow flowers frae give grace grave green guid hand happy hear heart Heaven Highland hills honest hope hour human I'll Jean John kind King Kirkoswald lass lassie leave letters light lived mair man's Mary Mauchline maun meet miles mind mony morning mourn muse Nature ne'er never night Nith o'er Peggy pleasure poem poor pride rest RIVER round sang sing smile song soul stand storm stream sweet tell thee thou thought thro Till tree wander weary weel wife wild winding winter woods wretch written wrote young
Seite 32 - Tam tint his reason a' thegither, And roars out, " Weel done, Cutty-sark !" And in an instant all was dark: And scarcely had he Maggie rallied, When out the hellish legion sallied. As bees bizz out wi' angry fyke, When plundering herds assail their byke ; 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 skreech and hollow.
Seite 274 - John Anderson my jo. John Anderson my jo, John, We clamb the hill thegither ; And mony a canty day, John, We've had wi' ane anither : Now we maun totter down, John, But hand in hand we'll go, And sleep thegither at the foot, John Anderson my jo.
Seite 70 - 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 !
Seite 73 - 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.
Seite 59 - Tho' they may gang a kennin wrang, To step aside is human : One point must still be greatly dark, The moving Why they do it ; And just as lamely can ye mark, How far perhaps they rue it. Who made the heart, 'tis He alone Decidedly can try us, He knows each chord its various tone, Each spring its various bias : Then at the balance let's be mute, We never can adjust it ; What's done we partly may compute, But know not what's resisted.
Seite 71 - Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme, How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed; How He who bore in Heaven the second name Had not on earth whereon to lay His head ; How His first followers and servants sped ; The precepts sage they wrote to many a land : How he, who lone in Patmos banished, Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand, And heard great Bab'lon's doom pronounced by Heaven's command. Then kneeling down to Heaven's Eternal King The saint, the father, and the husband prays : Hope 'springs...
Seite 217 - The golden hours on angel wings Flew o'er me and my dearie ; For dear to me as light and life Was my sweet Highland Mary. Wi' mony a vow and lock'd embrace Our parting was fu...
Seite 68 - But hark ! a rap comes gently to the door ; Jenny, wha kens the meaning o' the same, Tells how a neebor lad cam' o'er the moor, To do some errands, and convoy her hame. The wily mother sees the conscious flame Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, and flush her cheek...
Seite 67 - The black'ning trains o' craws to their repose : The toil-worn cotter frae his labour goes, This night his weekly moil is at an end, Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes, Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend, And weary o'er the moor, his course does hameward bend. At length his lonely cot appears in view, Beneath the shelter of an aged tree ; Th' expectant wee-things, toddlin, stacher through To meet their dad, wi' flichterin noise an