The Life and Works of Robert Burns, Volume 1Longmans, Green, 1896 - 281 pagine |
Dall'interno del libro
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Pagina viii
... father - Winter : a dirge ' - Return to Lochlea - Plough and harp resumed - ' My father was a farmer ' - Letters to Thomas Orr and John Murdoch- The death and dying words of poor Mailie'— ' John Barleycorn ' — ' Mary Morison : ' who ...
... father - Winter : a dirge ' - Return to Lochlea - Plough and harp resumed - ' My father was a farmer ' - Letters to Thomas Orr and John Murdoch- The death and dying words of poor Mailie'— ' John Barleycorn ' — ' Mary Morison : ' who ...
Pagina 10
... Father was gardener to a worthy gentleman of small estate in the neighbour- hood of Ayr . * Had my Father continued in that situation , I must have marched off to have been one of the little underlings about a farmhouse ; but it was his ...
... Father was gardener to a worthy gentleman of small estate in the neighbour- hood of Ayr . * Had my Father continued in that situation , I must have marched off to have been one of the little underlings about a farmhouse ; but it was his ...
Pagina 12
... Father's generous Master died ; the farm proved a ruinous bargain ; and to clench the curse , we fell into the hands of a Factor , who sat for the picture I have drawn of one in my tale of " Twa Dogs . " My Father was advanced in life ...
... Father's generous Master died ; the farm proved a ruinous bargain ; and to clench the curse , we fell into the hands of a Factor , who sat for the picture I have drawn of one in my tale of " Twa Dogs . " My Father was advanced in life ...
Pagina 13
... father's maids , with whom he was in love ; and I saw no reason why I might not rhyme as well as he ; for , excepting smearing sheep and casting peats ( his father living in the moors ) , he had no more * Gilbert . scholar - craft than ...
... father's maids , with whom he was in love ; and I saw no reason why I might not rhyme as well as he ; for , excepting smearing sheep and casting peats ( his father living in the moors ) , he had no more * Gilbert . scholar - craft than ...
Pagina 14
... Father struggled on till he reached a freedom in his lease , when he entered on a larger farm , about ten miles farther in the country . The nature of the bargain was such as to throw a little ready money in his hand at the commencement ...
... Father struggled on till he reached a freedom in his lease , when he entered on a larger farm , about ten miles farther in the country . The nature of the bargain was such as to throw a little ready money in his hand at the commencement ...
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acquaintance Amang appears Armour auld Ayrshire baith Ballochmyle Bard Bible bonie braw Brig brother Buchanites Burness Burns's charms Common-place Book copy Cumnock daughter dear death Deil died e'er Edinburgh edition Epistle Ev'n ev'ry fair farm father Firth of Clyde frae Gavin Hamilton Gilbert Burns girl Glasgow Greenock happy heart Holy Irvine Jamaica James Jean John Kilmarnock kirk-session Kirkoswald laird lass lassie letter lived Lochlea Lodge Lord married Mary Campbell Mauchline maun Maybole meet mind minister mony Mossgiel mother Muse nae mair ne'er never night o'er owre parish pleasure poem poet poet's poetic poor pow'r pride rhyme Robert Burns scene Scotch Scotland Scottish sing song stanza sweet Tarbolton tell thee Thou thought thro took unco verse weel whyles William Burnes William Simson young
Brani popolari
Pagina 306 - 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.
Pagina 37 - 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...
Pagina 338 - There, oft as mild evening weeps over the lea, The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me. Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides, And winds by the cot where my Mary resides; How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave, As gathering sweet flowerets she stems thy clear wave.
Pagina 95 - Yestreen, when to the trembling string The dance gaed thro' the lighted ha', To thee my fancy took its wing, I sat, but neither heard nor saw: Tho' this was fair, and that was braw, And yon the toast of a' the town, I sigh'd and said amang them a'; — "Ye are na Mary Morison!
Pagina 323 - Ev'n thou who mourn'st the Daisy's fate, That fate is thine — no distant date ; Stern Ruin's ploughshare drives, elate, Full on thy bloom, Till crush'd beneath the furrow's weight, Shall be thy doom ! TO RUIN.
Pagina 218 - November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh; The short'ning winter-day is near a close; The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh; The black'ning trains o' craws to their repose: The toil-worn Cotter frae his labor 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. HI At length his lonely cot appears in view, Beneath the shelter of an aged tree; Th' expectant...
Pagina 215 - See yonder poor, o'erlabour'd wight, So abject, mean, and vile, Who begs a brother of the earth To give him leave to toil ; And see his lordly fellow-worm The poor petition spurn, Unmindful tho' a weeping wife And helpless offspring mourn.
Pagina 115 - With passions wild and strong; And list'ning to their witching voice Has often led me wrong.
Pagina 37 - With Amalek's ungracious progeny; Or how the royal bard did groaning lie Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire; Or Job's pathetic plaint, and wailing cry; Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire : Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre.
Pagina 160 - 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