Robert Burns: As a Poet, and as a ManBaker and Scribner, 1848 - 209 páginas |
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Página iii
... soul , and , as it is native to the mind , must be gratified in some way . There must be a literature , in which it is embodied , in order , by its representations , to satisfy its cravings . It is this spirit which writes novels ; and ...
... soul , and , as it is native to the mind , must be gratified in some way . There must be a literature , in which it is embodied , in order , by its representations , to satisfy its cravings . It is this spirit which writes novels ; and ...
Página iv
... soul , in comparison with poetry . So far above those of other men , are the thoughts and the diction of the poet , that in all ages he has been said to be inspired : A special gift of divinity has been thought to be vouchsafed to him ...
... soul , in comparison with poetry . So far above those of other men , are the thoughts and the diction of the poet , that in all ages he has been said to be inspired : A special gift of divinity has been thought to be vouchsafed to him ...
Página v
... soul more fully than any other man , the ideal perfection of human love . And this selfish age should be taught this sweetest mystery of the heart . The necessities of life are so continually impressing men with the value of utilitarian ...
... soul more fully than any other man , the ideal perfection of human love . And this selfish age should be taught this sweetest mystery of the heart . The necessities of life are so continually impressing men with the value of utilitarian ...
Página vi
... soul of- ten realizes , in an extraordinary degree , all its worth , what Cicero has so beautifully described in his oration for the poet Archias . " Nor ought we , " says Cicero , " to dissemble this truth , which cannot be concealed ...
... soul of- ten realizes , in an extraordinary degree , all its worth , what Cicero has so beautifully described in his oration for the poet Archias . " Nor ought we , " says Cicero , " to dissemble this truth , which cannot be concealed ...
Página 10
... soul for good , there is none more potent than beauty . It was beauty in nature operating upon the suscep- tible Greek mind , that enabled it to catch the divine lineaments of the beautiful and embody them in art . And art , thus ...
... soul for good , there is none more potent than beauty . It was beauty in nature operating upon the suscep- tible Greek mind , that enabled it to catch the divine lineaments of the beautiful and embody them in art . And art , thus ...
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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