Poems, Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect, Volume 1

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T. Cadell jun. and W. Davies, London; and William Creech, Edinburgh., 1797 - 287 pagine
 

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Pagina 47 - Scripture, They raise a din, that in the end, Is like to breed a rupture O' wrath that day. Leeze me on Drink ! it gi'es us mair Than either School or College : It kindles Wit, it waukens Lair, It pangs us fou o
Pagina 161 - 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.
Pagina 204 - That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble Has cost thee mony a weary nibble! Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble, But house or hald, To thole the winter's sleety dribble, An
Pagina 37 - UPON a simmer Sunday morn, When Nature's face is fair, I walked forth to view the corn, An' snuff the caller air. The rising sun, owre Galston muirs, Wi' glorious light was glintin ; The hares were hirplin down the furs, The lav'rocks they were chantin Fu
Pagina 159 - Gies now and then a wallop, What ragings must his veins convulse That still eternal gallop: Wi' wind and tide fair i' your tail, Right on ye scud your sea-way; But in the teeth o' baith to sail, It maks an unco leeway.
Pagina 217 - It's no in making muckle, mair : It's no in books, it's no in lear, To make us truly blest : If happiness hae not her seat And centre in the breast, We may be wise, or rich, or great, But never can be blest : Nae treasures, nor pleasures, Could make us happy lang ; The heart ay's the part ay, That makes us right or wrang. Think ye, that sic as you and I, Wha drudge and drive thro...
Pagina 191 - Whyles owre a linn the burnie plays, As thro' the glen it wimpl't; Whyles round a rocky scar it strays; Whyles in a wiel it dimpl't; Whyles glitter'd to the nightly rays, Wi' bickerin, dancin dazzle ; Whyles cookit underneath the braes, Below the spreading hazel, Unseen that night.
Pagina 204 - An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain, For promis'd joy. Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me ! The present only toucheth thee : But, Och ! I backward cast my e'e On prospects drear ! An...
Pagina 106 - An' now, auld Cloots, I ken ye're think-in', A certain Bardie's rantin', drinkin', Some luckless hour will send him linkin', To your black pit ; But, faith ! he'll turn a corner jinkin', An cheat you yet. But, fare you weel, auld Nickie-ben ! O wad ye tak a thought an' men' ! Ye aiblins might — I dinna ken — Still hae a stake : I'm wae to think upo...
Pagina 203 - I'm truly sorry man's dominion. Has broken nature's social union, An' justifies that ill opinion, Which makes thee startle At me, thy poor earth-born companion, An...

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