BurnsClarendon Press, 1889 - 292 頁 |
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第 1 到 5 筆結果,共 72 筆
第 xxix 頁
... Auld Farmer's New - Year Morning Salutation to his Auld Mare , Maggie The Twa Dogs • The Author's Earnest Cry and Prayer to the Scotch Representatives in the House of Commons 44 205 50 207 54 209 16 57 210 61 211 Epistle to James Smith ...
... Auld Farmer's New - Year Morning Salutation to his Auld Mare , Maggie The Twa Dogs • The Author's Earnest Cry and Prayer to the Scotch Representatives in the House of Commons 44 205 50 207 54 209 16 57 210 61 211 Epistle to James Smith ...
第 xxx 頁
... Farewell 159 250 Of a ' the Airts 160 250 The Lazy Mist 161 251 Auld Lang Syne 161 251 Go , fetch to me a Pint o ' Wine 162 251 SONGS . PAGE NOTES . PAGE John Anderson , my XXX SELECTIONS FROM BURNS . POEMS NOTES PAGE PAGE.
... Farewell 159 250 Of a ' the Airts 160 250 The Lazy Mist 161 251 Auld Lang Syne 161 251 Go , fetch to me a Pint o ' Wine 162 251 SONGS . PAGE NOTES . PAGE John Anderson , my XXX SELECTIONS FROM BURNS . POEMS NOTES PAGE PAGE.
第 10 頁
... Auld age ne'er mind a feg ; The last o''t , the warst o''t , Is only but to beg . To lye in kilns and barns at e'en , 25 When banes are craz'd , and bluid is thin , 30 Yet then content could make us blest ; Is , doubtless , great ...
... Auld age ne'er mind a feg ; The last o''t , the warst o''t , Is only but to beg . To lye in kilns and barns at e'en , 25 When banes are craz'd , and bluid is thin , 30 Yet then content could make us blest ; Is , doubtless , great ...
第 20 頁
... auld kirk - hammer strak the bell Some wee short hour ayont the twal , Which rais'd us baith : I took the way that pleas'd mysel ' , WHILE And sae did Death . Epistle to John Lapraik . HILE briers an ' woodbines budding green , An ...
... auld kirk - hammer strak the bell Some wee short hour ayont the twal , Which rais'd us baith : I took the way that pleas'd mysel ' , WHILE And sae did Death . Epistle to John Lapraik . HILE briers an ' woodbines budding green , An ...
第 24 頁
... auld pen's worn to the gristle ; Twa lines frae you wad gar me fissle , Who am , most fervent , While I can either sing or whistle , Your friend and servant . Second Epistle to John Lapraik . WHILE new - ca'd kye rowte at the stake , An ...
... auld pen's worn to the gristle ; Twa lines frae you wad gar me fissle , Who am , most fervent , While I can either sing or whistle , Your friend and servant . Second Epistle to John Lapraik . WHILE new - ca'd kye rowte at the stake , An ...
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aboon Allan Ramsay amang auld auld lang syne baith birks of Aberfeldy blaw bonnie braes braw BRIG Burns's cauld composed corn dear dearie death Deil Doon e'en e'er Edinburgh Elegy Ellisland Epistle Ev'n Farewell farm Fergusson frae Halloween hame heart Holy Fair honest honour Hornbook Icel ilka Jean joys Kilmarnock Lapraik lass letter Lochlie Lord Mailie mair Mauchline maun mind mony Mossgiel Mount Oliphant mourn muse ne'er never night o'er owre plough poem poet poet's poetical poor rhyme river Ayr Samson's dead sang Scotch Scotland Scots Scots wha hae Scottish Shanter song stanza sweet syne ta'en Tarbolton thee thegither thou thro unco wander weary weel Whyles wild William Burnes William Simson Willie wind wooing o''t word young ΙΟ
熱門章節
第 44 頁 - 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 labour 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. At length his lonely cot appears in view, Beneath the shelter of an aged tree ; Th' expectant...
第 175 頁 - 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?
第 229 頁 - One lesson, shepherd, let us two divide, Taught both by what she shows, and what conceals • Never to blend our pleasure or our pride With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.
第 47 頁 - The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace, The big ha' Bible, ance his father's pride: His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside, His lyart haffets wearing thin an' bare; .Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, He wales a portion with judicious care ; And ' Let us worship God !* he says, with solemn air.
第 163 頁 - YE banks and braes o' bonnie Doon, How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair; How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae weary, fu' o
第 144 頁 - And scarcely had he Maggie rallied, When out the hellish legion sallied. As bees bizz out wi' angry fyke, When plundering herds assail their byke; As open pussie's mortal foes. When, pop! she starts before their nose; As eager runs the market-crowd, When 'Catch the thief resounds aloud; So Maggie runs, the witches follow, Wi' mony an eldritch skreech and hollow.
第 48 頁 - 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.
第 105 頁 - Is there a man whose judgment clear, Can others teach the course to steer, Yet runs, himself, life's mad career, Wild as the wave ; Here pause — and, thro' the starting tear, Survey this grave. 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 ;...
第 161 頁 - MY JO. 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 snaw ; But blessings on your frosty pow, John Anderson my jo.
第 85 頁 - 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.