The Works of Robert Burns: With an Account of His Life , and a Criticism on His Writing. To which are Prefixed, Some Observations on the Character and Condition of the Scottish Peasantry, Volum 4T. Cadell and W. Davies ; and W. Creech at Edinburgh, 1813 |
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Side xii
... Night , LI . Mr. B. to Mr. T. Praise of Mr. Allan— " Banks of Cree , " . • LII . Mr. B. to Mr. T. Pleyel in France- " Here , where the Scottish Muse immor- tal lives , " presented to Miss Graham of Fintry , with a copy of Mr. Thomson's ...
... Night , LI . Mr. B. to Mr. T. Praise of Mr. Allan— " Banks of Cree , " . • LII . Mr. B. to Mr. T. Pleyel in France- " Here , where the Scottish Muse immor- tal lives , " presented to Miss Graham of Fintry , with a copy of Mr. Thomson's ...
Side xiii
... night " - " Let not woman e'er complain " - " The Lover's Morning Salute to his Mistress " - " The Auld Man " " Keen blaws the wind o'er Donocht- head , " in a note , 172 LXI . Mr. T. to Mr. B. Wishes he knew the in- spiring Fair One ...
... night " - " Let not woman e'er complain " - " The Lover's Morning Salute to his Mistress " - " The Auld Man " " Keen blaws the wind o'er Donocht- head , " in a note , 172 LXI . Mr. T. to Mr. B. Wishes he knew the in- spiring Fair One ...
Side xiv
... Night , LXXIV . Mr. B. to Mr. T. with " How cruel are the parents , " and " Mark yonder pomp of costly fashion , " LXXV . Mr. B. to Mr. T. designs , LXXVI . Mr. T. to Mr. B. · Thanks for Allan's 225 226 230 · 232 • 234 Compliment ...
... Night , LXXIV . Mr. B. to Mr. T. with " How cruel are the parents , " and " Mark yonder pomp of costly fashion , " LXXV . Mr. B. to Mr. T. designs , LXXVI . Mr. T. to Mr. B. · Thanks for Allan's 225 226 230 · 232 • 234 Compliment ...
Side xxi
... night Had I a cave on some wild distant shore Hail Poesie ! thou nymph reserv'd ! Here awa , there awa , wandering Willie The same , altered . Here is the glen , and here the bower Here's a health to ane I lo'e dear • · Here where the ...
... night Had I a cave on some wild distant shore Hail Poesie ! thou nymph reserv'd ! Here awa , there awa , wandering Willie The same , altered . Here is the glen , and here the bower Here's a health to ane I lo'e dear • · Here where the ...
Side xxiii
... night o'erhang my dwelling • 273 Thine am I , my faithful fair 138 Thine be the volumes , Jessy fair 381 This day , Time winds th ' exhausted chain 363 Thou Thou of an independent mind Thou hast left me ever INDEX . xxiii Mr B to Mr Page ...
... night o'erhang my dwelling • 273 Thine am I , my faithful fair 138 Thine be the volumes , Jessy fair 381 This day , Time winds th ' exhausted chain 363 Thou Thou of an independent mind Thou hast left me ever INDEX . xxiii Mr B to Mr Page ...
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The Works of Robert Burns: With an Account of His Life , and a ..., Volum 4 Robert Burns Uten tilgangsbegrensning - 1813 |
Vanlige uttrykk og setninger
ae night ain dear Allan Allan Ramsay alter amang anec anither auld lang syne ballad bard beautiful blithe bonnie bosom braes BURNS Caledonia Cauld charming Chloris CHORUS claute Coila Dainty Davie dear Sir dearest dearie Deil delight Dumfries Duncan Gray Ecclefechan Edinburgh English song English verses fair favourite fine air flowers frae Galla Water give glen hame heart heaven Highland John Anderson lass lassie Lassie wi lea-rig Leiger lines lo'es Lord Gregory lover mair Mary maun melodies merit Mill mony muse Museum Nancy Nanie ne'er never o'er Phillis Pindar pleased pleasure Pleyel poet poetry poor Rob Morris Saw ye Scots Scottish singing stanza suit sung sweet syne taste tell thee thine THOMSON thro tune wander wee thing wild Willie wilt thou young JESSIE
Populære avsnitt
Side 217 - Guid faith he mauna fa' that. For a' that, and a' that, Their dignities, and a' that ; The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth, Are higher rank than a that. Then let us pray that come it may, As come it will for a' that ; That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth, May bear the gree, and a' that. For a
Side 125 - Wha will be a traitor knave ? Wha can fill a coward's grave? Wha sae base as be a slave? Let him turn and flee! Wha for Scotland's King and law Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Freeman stand, or freeman fa...
Side 216 - THAT AND A' THAT" Is there, for honest Poverty, That hangs his head, and a' that! The coward slave, we pass him by, We dare be poor for a
Side 330 - Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes, Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays; My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream — Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream ! HIGHLAND MARY Ye banks, and braes, and streams around The castle o...
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 341 - As fair art thou, my bonie lass, So deep in luve am I : And I will luve thee still, my Dear, Till a' the seas gang dry. Till a' the seas gang dry, my Dear, And the rocks melt wi' the sun : And I will luve thee still, my Dear, While the sands o
Side 300 - John Anderson my jo, John, When we were first acquent, Your locks were like the raven, Your bonnie brow was brent; But now your brow is beld, John, Your locks are like the snow; But blessings on your frosty pow, John Anderson, my jo. John Anderson my jo, John, We clamb the hill thegither; And mony a canty day, John, We've had wi...
Side 216 - A man's a man for a' that ; For a' that, and a' that, Their tinsel show, and a' that : The honest man, though e'er sae poor, Is king o' men for a' that. Ye see yon birkie, ca'da lord, Wha struts, and stares, and a' that ; Though hundreds worship at his word, He's but a coof for a' that : For a' that, and a' that, His riband, star, and a' that, The man of independent mind, He looks and laughs at a
Side 18 - O' my sweet Highland Mary. How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk, How rich the hawthorn's blossom, As underneath their fragrant shade I clasp'd her to my bosom ! 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...
Side 214 - The snawdrap and primrose our woodlands adorn, And violets bathe in the weet o' the morn, They pain my sad bosom, sae sweetly they blaw; They mind me o...