The English Poets: Addison to BlakeMacmillan and Company, 1889 |
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Página 163
... Frae duddy doublets and a pantry toom3 . 1 Your nowt may die ; the spate may bear away Frae aff the howms your dainty rucks of hay ; The thick - blawn wreaths of snaw , or blashy thows " , May smoor your wethers and may rot your ewes ...
... Frae duddy doublets and a pantry toom3 . 1 Your nowt may die ; the spate may bear away Frae aff the howms your dainty rucks of hay ; The thick - blawn wreaths of snaw , or blashy thows " , May smoor your wethers and may rot your ewes ...
Página 164
... frae the hill , I'll have a ' things made ready to his will ; In winter , when he toils thro ' wind and rain , A bleezing - ingle and a clean hearth - stane ; And soon as he flings by his plaid and staff , The seething pots be ready to ...
... frae the hill , I'll have a ' things made ready to his will ; In winter , when he toils thro ' wind and rain , A bleezing - ingle and a clean hearth - stane ; And soon as he flings by his plaid and staff , The seething pots be ready to ...
Página 165
... frae the eastlin blast , That in return defends it frae the wast . Sic as stand single ( a state sae liked by you ) , Beneath ilk storm frae every airt1 maun bow . Jenny . I've done . I yield dear lassie , I maun yield ; Your better ...
... frae the eastlin blast , That in return defends it frae the wast . Sic as stand single ( a state sae liked by you ) , Beneath ilk storm frae every airt1 maun bow . Jenny . I've done . I yield dear lassie , I maun yield ; Your better ...
Página 167
... Frae flowers of sweetest scent and hue , Sae wad I dwell upon thy mow And gar the gods envý me . Sae lang's I had the use of light I'd on thy beauties feast my sight , Syne in saft whispers through the night I'd tell how much I loved ...
... Frae flowers of sweetest scent and hue , Sae wad I dwell upon thy mow And gar the gods envý me . Sae lang's I had the use of light I'd on thy beauties feast my sight , Syne in saft whispers through the night I'd tell how much I loved ...
Página 493
... frae rrance , Whae'er he be , that winna dance The reel of Tullochgorum . LOGIE O ' BUCHAN . [ GEORGE HALKET . Died 1756. ] O Logie o ' Buchan , O Logie the laird , They ha'e ta'en awa ' Jamie , that delved in the yard , Wha play'd on ...
... frae rrance , Whae'er he be , that winna dance The reel of Tullochgorum . LOGIE O ' BUCHAN . [ GEORGE HALKET . Died 1756. ] O Logie o ' Buchan , O Logie the laird , They ha'e ta'en awa ' Jamie , that delved in the yard , Wha play'd on ...
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Términos y frases comunes
admiration Æsop Ambrose Philips beauty beneath blank verse bless blest born breast breath Castle of Indolence charms couplet court criticism death delight Dunciad English English poetry Epistle Essay Essay on Criticism Ev'n ev'ry eyes fair fame fate fool frae genius GEORGE SAINTSBURY glory grace grave Gray Grongar Hill hand happy heart heaven Horace kings knave labour literary live Lord Lord Hervey mind moral muse nature ne'er never night numbers nymph o'er once passion Pindaric pleasure poem poet poet's poetical poetry Pope Pope's pow'rs praise pride prose rhyme rise round satire sense shade shine sing smile song soul spirit Spleen style sweet Swift taste tell thee things thou thought thro toil trembling truth turns Twas verse virtue Whig wind wise write youth
Pasajes populares
Página 604 - Piping down the valleys wild, Piping songs of pleasant glee, On a cloud I saw a child, And he laughing said to me: "Pipe a song about a Lamb!' So I piped with merry cheer. 'Piper, pipe that song again;
Página 375 - Here, as I take my solitary rounds, Amidst thy tangling walks, and ruined grounds, And, many a year elapsed, return to view Where once the cottage stood, the hawthorn grew, Remembrance wakes with all her busy train, Swells at my breast, and turns the past to pain. In all my wanderings round this world of care, In all my griefs — and God has given my share...
Página 478 - Affectionate, a mother lost so long, 1 will obey, not willingly alone, But gladly, as the precept were her own ; And, while that face renews my filial grief, Fancy shall weave a charm for my relief, Shall steep me in Elysian reverie, A momentary dream that thou art she.
Página 561 - I'll wage thee. Who shall say that fortune grieves him, While the star of hope she leaves him ? Me, nae cheerfu' twinkle lights me ; Dark despair around benights me. 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 479 - Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss — Ah, that maternal smile ! It answers — Yes. I heard the bell tolled on thy burial day, I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away, And, turning from my nursery window, drew A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu l But was it such ? — It was.
Página 534 - 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 562 - O' my sweet Highland Mary. How sweetly bloomed the gay green birk, How rich the hawthorn's blossom, As underneath their fragrant shade I clasped 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' monie a vow, and locked embrace, Our parting was fu...
Página 536 - O Scotia! my dear, my native soil! For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent, Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content! And...
Página 474 - It was not in the battle ; No tempest gave the shock ; She sprang no fatal leak ; She ran upon no rock. His sword was in its sheath, His fingers held the pen, When Kempenfelt went down With twice four hundred men. Weigh the vessel up, Once dreaded by our foes ! And mingle with our cup The tear that England owes.
Página 381 - Here Reynolds is laid, and, to tell you my mind, He has not left a wiser or better behind ; His pencil was striking, resistless, and grand, His manners were gentle, complying, and bland : Still born to improve us in every part, His pencil our faces, his manners our heart.