Comentarios de la gente - Escribir un comentario
No encontramos ningún comentario en los lugares habituales.
Otras ediciones - Ver todas
Select Works of the British Poets: In a Chronological Series from Ben Jonson ...
Sin vista previa disponible - 2015
Select Works of the British Poets: In a Chronological Series From Falconer ...
Sin vista previa disponible - 2017
appear'd art thou beauty behold beneath birks of Aberfeldy bless bosom brave breast breath bright Caupolican charm cheerful clouds cried dark dear death deep delight dread e'en E’en earth fair faith fancy fate father fear feel fix’d flowers frae Freb Gaur gentle grace grave grief hand happy hast hath hear heard heart heaven honour hope hour I’ve Jane lady Lautaro light live look lord maid mind Monfort muse Nero never night noble nymph o'er pain Palemon pass'd peace pleasure poor praise pride rapture rest Rodmond round scene seem'd shade shore sigh sight silent smile song soon sorrow soul sound speak spirit stood sweet tears tempest thee thine thou art thought trembling truth Twas vale Venice vex'd voice wandering wave whyles wild wind wyllowe youth
Página 230 - 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...
Página 215 - From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs, That makes her loved at home, revered abroad: Princes and lords are but the breath of kings, 'An honest man's the noblest work of God;' And certes, in fair virtue's heavenly road, The cottage leaves the palace far behind; What is a lordling's pomp? a cumbrous load, Disguising oft the wretch of human kind, Studied in arts of hell, in wickedness refin'd!
Página 237 - I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy, Naething could resist my Nancy ; But to see her was to love her ; Love but her, and love for ever. Had we never loved sae kindly, Had we never loved sae blindly, Never met — or never parted, We had ne'er been broken-hearted.
Página 215 - What makes the youth sae bashfu' an' sae grave: Weel pleased to think her bairn's respected like the lave. O happy love! where love like this is found! O heartfelt raptures! bliss beyond compare! I've paced much this weary, mortal round, And sage experience bids me this declare: — If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare, One cordial in this melancholy vale, 'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair In other's arms breathe out the tender tale, Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the...
Página 235 - And mony a hill between ; But day and night my fancy's flight Is ever wi' my Jean. I see her in the dewy flowers, I see her sweet and fair : I hear her in the tunefu...
Página 62 - Where low-browed baseness wafts perfume to pride. No; Men, high-minded men, With powers as far above dull brutes endued In forest, brake or den, As beasts excel cold rocks and brambles rude ; Men who their duties know, But know their rights, and, knowing, dare maintain, Prevent the long-aimed blow, And crush the tyrant while they rend the chain ; These constitute a State; And sovereign law, that State's collected will, O'er thrones and globes elate Sits empress, crowning good, repressing ill.
Página 235 - John Anderson my jo. John Anderson my jo, John, We clamb the hill thegither ; And mony a canty day, John, We've had wi' ane anither : Now we maun totter down, John, But hand in hand we'll go, And sleep thegither at the foot, John Anderson my jo.
Página 228 - That hour o' night's black arch the key-stane, That dreary hour he mounts his beast in, 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 236 - Thou minds me o' the happy days When my fause luve was true. " Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird That sings beside thy mate ; For sae I sat, and sae I sang, And wist na o' my fate. " Aft hae I rov'd by bonie Doon, To see the woodbine twine, And ilka bird sang o' its love, And sae did I o