The Poetical Works of Robert Burns, Svazek 3W. Pickering, 1839 - Počet stran: 319 |
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Strana 1
... hand , " as I conveyed my chest so far on my road to Greenock , where I was to embark , in a few days , for Ja- maica . I meant it as my farewell dirge to my native land . ” He has elsewhere given the following history of this piece ...
... hand , " as I conveyed my chest so far on my road to Greenock , where I was to embark , in a few days , for Ja- maica . I meant it as my farewell dirge to my native land . ” He has elsewhere given the following history of this piece ...
Strana 10
... hand , my trusty fiere , And gie's a hand o ' thine ; And we'll tak a right guid willie - waught , For auld lang syne . For auld , & c . And surely ye'll be your pint - stowp , And surely I'll be mine ; And we'll tak a cup o ' kindness ...
... hand , my trusty fiere , And gie's a hand o ' thine ; And we'll tak a right guid willie - waught , For auld lang syne . For auld , & c . And surely ye'll be your pint - stowp , And surely I'll be mine ; And we'll tak a cup o ' kindness ...
Strana 11
... affect my simple lug no otherwise than merely as melodious din . On the other hand , by way of amends , I am delighted with many little melodies which Wha for Scotland's King and law Freedom's sword will strongly OF BURNS . 11.
... affect my simple lug no otherwise than merely as melodious din . On the other hand , by way of amends , I am delighted with many little melodies which Wha for Scotland's King and law Freedom's sword will strongly OF BURNS . 11.
Strana 14
... hand , And gie it to the weaver . While birds rejoice in leafy bowers ; While bees rejoice in opening flowers ; While corn grows green in simmer showers , I'll love my gallant weaver . SONG.t ANNA , thy charms my bosom fire , And waste ...
... hand , And gie it to the weaver . While birds rejoice in leafy bowers ; While bees rejoice in opening flowers ; While corn grows green in simmer showers , I'll love my gallant weaver . SONG.t ANNA , thy charms my bosom fire , And waste ...
Strana 25
... hand general had nae skill , The Angus lads had nae guid - will That day their neebors ' blood to spill ; For fear , by foes , that they should lose Their cogs o ' brose ; all crying woes , And so it goes , you see , man . They've lost ...
... hand general had nae skill , The Angus lads had nae guid - will That day their neebors ' blood to spill ; For fear , by foes , that they should lose Their cogs o ' brose ; all crying woes , And so it goes , you see , man . They've lost ...
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aboon Allan Cunningham Allan Cunningham says amang auld lang syne ballad Balmaghie Bannocks blate body kiss Bonie bonnie lass bonnie Mary braes Burns says Buy braw troggin Charlie charms CHORUS Claut Collection in 1801 copy Cromek's Reliques dear dearie Deil dimin e'en e'er EPITAPH fair Farewell flower frae Galla Water Glasgow Glasgow Collection glen grows bonnie wi gude hame heart Highland Highland laddie ilka Jamie Kenmure's Kilmarnock kiss laddie lassie lo'es Lord Mally's Mauchline maun monie Musical Museum nane ne'er Netherplace never night o'er Och-on owre Peggy printed in Cromek's rhyme Robin rue grows bonnie sing soger song occurs sparklin sweet tear tell thee Thomson thro thyme TUNE twa sparkling rogueish unco verses weary weel Whigs wife Willie winna wither'd ye'll ye're young
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Strana 16 - Let him follow me! By oppression's woes and pains! By your sons in servile chains! We will drain our dearest veins, But they shall be free! Lay the proud usurpers low! Tyrants fall in every foe! Liberty's in every blow! Let us do or die!
Strana 240 - 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 ;...
Strana 12 - 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' tender; And pledging aft to meet again, We tore oursels asunder; But, Oh!
Strana 20 - A man's a man for a' that : For a' that, an' 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 ; Tho' 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 19 - 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 15 - 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 11 - YE banks and braes and streams around The castle o' Montgomery, Green be your woods, and fair your flowers, Your waters never drumlie! There simmer first unfauld her robes, And there the langest tarry; For there I took the last fareweel O
Strana 55 - 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 or 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', 'Ye are na Mary Morison!
Strana 77 - The birds sang love on ev'ry spray, Till too, too soon, the glowing west Proclaim'd the speed of winged day. Still o'er these scenes my mem'ry wakes, And fondly broods with miser care ! Time but the impression deeper makes, As streams their channels deeper wear.
Strana 76 - O Mary ! dear departed shade ! "Where is thy place of blissful rest? Seest thou thy lover lowly laid? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast? That sacred hour can I forget? Can I forget the hallow'd grove, Where by the winding Ayr we met, To live one day of parting love?