Robert Burns: As a Poet, and as a ManBaker and Scribner, 1848 - 209 páginas |
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Página iv
... genius , and take away from human culture all their influence , and how humble would be every page . The philosopher forms the opinions of the world , the poet forms their sentiments . The one wields his prerogatives over the mind , the ...
... genius , and take away from human culture all their influence , and how humble would be every page . The philosopher forms the opinions of the world , the poet forms their sentiments . The one wields his prerogatives over the mind , the ...
Página 17
... genius of Milton alone that has thrown over morning the beauty of woman . Thomson has said , " The meek - eyed morn appears , mother of dews . " In what other form could poetry give greater charms to its descriptions of morning ? If ...
... genius of Milton alone that has thrown over morning the beauty of woman . Thomson has said , " The meek - eyed morn appears , mother of dews . " In what other form could poetry give greater charms to its descriptions of morning ? If ...
Página 24
... genius to the personification of the young girl as a rose - bud ! And with what a strong mean- ing do the analogies sustain the allegory to the end ! Now , it was Miss Cruikshank who awakened in the soul of Burns , that inspiration ...
... genius to the personification of the young girl as a rose - bud ! And with what a strong mean- ing do the analogies sustain the allegory to the end ! Now , it was Miss Cruikshank who awakened in the soul of Burns , that inspiration ...
Página 26
... genius of your book ? No ! no ! Whenever I want to be more than ordinary in song - to be in some degree equal to your diviner airs - do you imagine I fast and pray for the celestial emanation ? Tout au contraire ! I have a glorious ...
... genius of your book ? No ! no ! Whenever I want to be more than ordinary in song - to be in some degree equal to your diviner airs - do you imagine I fast and pray for the celestial emanation ? Tout au contraire ! I have a glorious ...
Página 34
... genius , then was Robert Burns a great poet . ) For no man was ever born in a more prosaic condition of life . Every thing near him , and every thing around him , was as dull as human life ever furnishes . Poor , and under the continual ...
... genius , then was Robert Burns a great poet . ) For no man was ever born in a more prosaic condition of life . Every thing near him , and every thing around him , was as dull as human life ever furnishes . Poor , and under the continual ...
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Términos y frases comunes
acquaintance Allan Ramsay ambition ancient associations awakened beauty bliss bosom breathes Burns's character charms conversation criticism divine Duchess of Gordon Dugald Stewart Earl of Glencairn Edinburgh elements Ellisland embodied English expression exquisite fame fancy father feeling felt flowers frae genius give Glencairn glory Greek happy harp heart highest honor Hudibras human humble humor ideal impression inspiration labors letter literary literature living look manners Mary Campbell material imagery Mauchline mind moral muse nature never night noble o'er O'Shanter objects peasant peculiar Pietro Perugino pleasure poem poet poetic poetry rhyme Robert Burns satire says scene Scotland Scots Scots College Scottish Scottish literature seen sentiments songs soul spirit stream sweet sympathy Tam O'Shanter taste tender thing Thomson thou thought thro tion touch truth tune ture verses whole Whyles woman write written youth
Pasajes populares
Página 54 - The best laid schemes o' mice an' men, Gang aft agley, An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain For promis'd joy! Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me! The present only toucheth thee: But, och! I backward cast my e'e, On prospects drear! An' forward, tho' I canna see, I guess an
Página 80 - O wad some Pow'r the giftie gie us To see oursels as others see us ! It wad frae monie a blunder free us And foolish notion : What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us, And ev'n devotion ! EPISTLE TO A YOUNG FRIEND.
Página 169 - The bridegroom may forget the bride Was made his wedded wife yestreen ; The monarch may forget the crown ' That on his head an hour has been ; The mother may forget the child That smiles sae sweetly on her knee ; But I'll remember thee, Glencairn, And a' that thou hast done for me ! " LINES, SENT TO SIR JOHN WHITEFORD, OF WHITEFORD, BART.
Página 79 - 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.
Página 79 - Then gently scan your brother man, Still gentler sister woman; Though they may gang a kennin' wrang, To step aside is human.
Página 164 - We know nothing, or next to nothing, of the substance or structure of our souls, so cannot account for those seeming caprices in them that one should be particularly pleased with this thing, or struck with that, which, on minds of a different cast, makes no extraordinary impression. I have some favourite flowers in spring, among which are the mountain-daisy, the harebell, the foxglove, the wild-brier rose, the budding birch, and the hoary hawthorn, that I view and hang over with particular delight.
Página 28 - He who hath bent him o'er the dead Ere the first day of death is fled, The first dark day of nothingness, The last of danger and distress, (Before Decay's effacing fingers Have swept the lines where beauty lingers...
Página 20 - And missing thee, I walk unseen On the dry smooth-shaven green. To behold the wandering moon, Riding near her highest noon. Like one that had been led astray Through the heaven's wide pathless way, And oft, as if her head she bowed, Stooping through a fleecy cloud.
Página 70 - And sic a night he taks the road in As ne'er poor sinner was abroad in. The wind blew as 'twad blawn its last; The rattling...
Página 20 - O' clod or stane, Adorns the histie stibble-field, Unseen, alane. There, in thy scanty mantle clad, Thy snawie bosom sun-ward spread, Thou lifts thy unassuming head In humble guise ; But now the share uptears thy bed, And low thou lies ! Such is the fate of artless maid, Sweet flow'ret of the rural shade ! By love's simplicity betray'd, And guileless trust, 'Till she, like thee, all soil'd, is laid Low i