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Side 69 - I forget the hallowed grove, Where by the winding Ayr we met, To live one day of parting love ! " Eternity will not efface Those records dear of transports past ; Thy image at our last embrace ; Ah ! little thought we 'twas our last ! " Ayr gurgling kiss'd his pebbled shore, O'erhung with wild woods, thickening, green, The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar, Twin'd amorous round the raptured scene.
Side 9 - 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 Babylon'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...
Side 46 - Our toils obscure, and a' that ; The rank is but the guinea's stamp, The man's the gowd for a' that ! What tho' on hamely fare we dine, Wear hoddin gray, and a' that ; Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine, A man's a man, for a
Side 41 - It is the wish'd, the trysted hour ! Those smiles and glances let me see, That make the miser's treasure poor ; How...
Side 115 - Are we a piece of machinery, which, like the /Eolian harp, passive, takes the impression of the passing accident ; or do these workings argue something within us above the trodden clod ? I own myself partial to such proofs of those awful and important realities : a God that made all things, man's immaterial and immortal nature, and a world of weal or wo beyond death and the grave.
Side 9 - Then kneeling down to Heaven's Eternal King, The saint, the father, and the husband prays; Hope 'springs exulting on triumphant wing,' That thus they all shall meet in future days, There ever bask in uncreated rays, No more to sigh or shed the bitter tear, Together hymning their Creator's praise, In such society, yet still more dear, While circling Time moves round in an eternal sphere.
Side 5 - Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin ! Its silly wa's the win's are strewin ! An" naething, now, to big a new ane, O...