Robert Burns

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Harper, 1901 - 205 pagine
 

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Pagina 176 - I'd shelter thee, I'd shelter thee. Or did misfortune's bitter storms Around thee blaw, around thee blaw, Thy bield should be my bosom, To share it a', to share it a'. " Or were I in the wildest waste, Sae black and bare, sae black and bare, The desert were a paradise, If thou wert there, if thou wert there: Or were I monarch o' the globe, Wi' thee to reign, wi' thee to reign, The brightest jewel in my crown Wad be my queen, wad be my queen.
Pagina 12 - 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, 1 sigh'd, and said amang them a',
Pagina 188 - The poor inhabitant below Was quick to learn and wise to know, And keenly felt the friendly glow, And softer flame ; But thoughtless follies laid him low, And stain'd his name ! Reader, attend ! whether thy soul Soars fancy's flights beyond the pole, Or darkling grubs this earthly hole, In low pursuit ; Know, prudent, cautious, self-control Is wisdom's root.
Pagina 157 - ... which is generally the most difficult part of the business, I walk out, sit down now and then, look out for objects in nature around me that are in unison or harmony with the cogitations of my fancy, and workings of my bosom; humming every now and then the air, with the verses I have framed.
Pagina 8 - I loved her. Indeed, I did not know myself why I liked so much to loiter behind with her, when returning in the evening from our...
Pagina 53 - Burns's manner, was the effect produced upon him by a print of Bunbury's, representing a soldier lying dead on the snow, his dog sitting in misery on one side, — on the other, his widow, with a child in her arms.
Pagina 100 - We know nothing, or next to nothing, of the substance or structure of our souls, so cannot account for those seeming caprices in them, that one should be particularly pleased with this thing, or struck with that, which, on minds of a different cast, makes no extraordinary impression. I have some...
Pagina 53 - Cold on Canadian hills, or Minden's plain, Perhaps that parent wept her soldier slain — Bent o'er her babe, her eye dissolved in dew, The big drops, mingling with the milk he drew, Gave the sad presage of his future years, The child of misery baptized in tears.
Pagina 112 - Mary! dear departed shade! Where is thy place of blissful rest? See'st thou thy lover lowly laid? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?
Pagina 32 - This sum came very seasonably, as I was thinking of indenting myself, for want of money to procure my passage. As soon as I was master of nine guineas, the price of wafting me to the torrid zone, I took a steerage passage in the first ship that was to sail from the .Clyde; for " Hungry ruin had me in the wind.

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