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, Svazek 4T. Cadell and W. Davies ; and W. Creech at Edinburgh, 1813 |
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Strana xxi
... dear • · Here where the Scottish Muse immortal lives How can my poor heart ... Sir , I've read your paper through Lassie wi ' the lintwhite locks • Last ... dear Tittie My heart is sair , I dare na tell • Page My honoured Colonel , deep I ...
... dear • · Here where the Scottish Muse immortal lives How can my poor heart ... Sir , I've read your paper through Lassie wi ' the lintwhite locks • Last ... dear Tittie My heart is sair , I dare na tell • Page My honoured Colonel , deep I ...
Strana 5
... Sir , your very humble servant , R. BURNS . P.S. I have some particular reasons for wishing my interference to be known as little as possible . No. III . MR . THOMSON to MR . BURNS . DEAR SIR , Edinburgh , 13th Oct. 1792 . I RECEIVED ...
... Sir , your very humble servant , R. BURNS . P.S. I have some particular reasons for wishing my interference to be known as little as possible . No. III . MR . THOMSON to MR . BURNS . DEAR SIR , Edinburgh , 13th Oct. 1792 . I RECEIVED ...
Strana 7
... whole collection : and you may believe we will receive any hints that you are so kind as to give for improving the work , with the greatest pleasure and thankfulness . I remain , dear Sir , & c . No. No. IV . MR . BURNS to MR . THOMSON.
... whole collection : and you may believe we will receive any hints that you are so kind as to give for improving the work , with the greatest pleasure and thankfulness . I remain , dear Sir , & c . No. No. IV . MR . BURNS to MR . THOMSON.
Strana 8
... DEAR SIR , LET me tell you that you are too fastidi- ous in your ideas of songs and ballads . I own that your criticisms are just ; the songs you specify in your list have all but one the faults you remark in them ; but who shall mend ...
... DEAR SIR , LET me tell you that you are too fastidi- ous in your ideas of songs and ballads . I own that your criticisms are just ; the songs you specify in your list have all but one the faults you remark in them ; but who shall mend ...
Strana 13
... dear Sir , that all the songs in your collection shall be poetry of the first merit , I am afraid you will find more difficulty in the * This song Mr. Thomson has not adopted in his col- lection . It deserves however to be preserved , E ...
... dear Sir , that all the songs in your collection shall be poetry of the first merit , I am afraid you will find more difficulty in the * This song Mr. Thomson has not adopted in his col- lection . It deserves however to be preserved , E ...
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The Works of Robert Burns: With an Account of His Life , and a ..., Svazek 4 Robert Burns Úplné zobrazení - 1813 |
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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
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Strana 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
Strana 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...
Strana 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
Strana 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...
Strana 41 - It is the wish'd, the trysted hour! Those smiles and glances let me see, That make the miser's treasure poor: How...
Strana 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
Strana 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...
Strana 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
Strana 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...
Strana 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...