The works of Robert Burns; with his life, by A. Cunningham, Том 2

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Стр. 257 - breast, When upward-springing, blythe, to greet, The purpling east. Cauld blew the bitter-biting north Upon thy early, humble birth ; Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth Amid the storm, Scarce rear'd above the parent earth Thy tender form. The flaunting flowers our gardens yield, High sheltering woods and wa's maun shield ; But thou, beneath the random
Стр. 248 - O Thou ! who pour'd the patriotic tide That stream'd through Wallace's undaunted heart: (The patriot's God, peculiarly thou art, His friend, inspirer, guardian, and reward !) O never, never, Scotia's realm desert; But still the patriot, and the patriot bard, In bright succession raise, her ornament and guard! When Burns was first invited to dine at
Стр. 242 - And mind your duty, duly, morn, and night! Lest in temptation's path ye gang astray, Implore His counsel and assisting might: They never sought in vain, that sought the Lord aright!" VII. But, hark ! a rap comes gently to the door ; Jenny, wha kens the meaning o
Стр. 194 - fellow-mortal! I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve ; What then ? poor beastie, thou maun live ! A daimen icker in a thrave 'S a sma' request: I'll get a blessin' wi' the lave, Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin ! Its silly wa's the win's are strewin'! An' naething, now, to big a new ane,
Стр. 240 - GRAY. MY lov'd, my honour'd, much respected friend ! No mercenary bard his homage pays ; With honest pride, I scorn each selfish end : My dearest meed, a friend's esteem and praise : To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays, The lowly train in life's sequester'd scene; The native feelings strong, the guileless ways ; II. November chill blaws loud wi
Стр. 247 - pow'r, incens'd, the pageant will desert, The pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole ; But, haply, in some cottage far apart, May hear, well pleas'd, the language of the soul; And in his book of life the inmates poor enrol. XVIII. Then homeward all take off their
Стр. 264 - s a poor exchange For Deity offended! X. When ranting round in pleasure's ring, Religion may be blinded ; Or if she gie a random sting, It may be little minded ; But when on life we're tempest-driv'n, A conscience but a canker— A correspondence fix'd wi' Heav'n Is sure a noble anchor ! Adieu, dear, amiable youth!
Стр. 194 - thee, Wi' murd'ring pattle! I'm truly sorry man's dominion. Has broken nature's social union, An' justifies that ill opinion, Which makes thee startle At me, thy poor earth-born companion, An' fellow-mortal! I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve ; What then ? poor beastie, thou maun live ! A daimen icker in a thrave 'S a sma' request: I'll get a blessin' wi
Стр. 36 - Ilk happing bird, wee, helpless thing, That, in the merry months o' spring, Delighted me to hear thee sing, What comes o' thee ? Whore wilt thou cow'r thy chittering wing, An' close thy e'e ? Ev'n you on murd'ring errands toil'd, Lone from your savage homes exiled, The

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