The Works of the British Poets, with Lives of the Authors, Том 39

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J. Eastburn, 1822
 

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Стр. 73 - I'd shelter thee, I'd shelter thee : Or did misfortune's bitter storms Around thee blaw, around thee blaw, Thy bield should be my bosom, To share it a', to share it a'.
Стр. 27 - Of a' the airts the wind can blaw I dearly like the West, For there the bonnie lassie lives, The lassie I lo'e best: There wild woods grow, and rivers row, 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' birds, I hear her charm the air: There's not a bonnie flower that springs, WJ.
Стр. 13 - Here's a health to ane I lo'e dear, Here's a health to ane I lo'e dear ; Thou art sweet as the smile when fond lovers meet, And soft as their parting tear — Jessy ! ALTHO' thou maun never be mine, Altho...
Стр. 46 - Far mark'd with the courses of clear winding rills ; There daily I wander as noon rises high, My flocks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eye. How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below, Where wild in the woodlands the primroses blow; There oft as mild evening weeps over the lea, The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me.
Стр. 133 - MY HEART'S in the Highlands, my heart is not here; My heart's in the Highlands, a-chasing the deer; Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe — My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go.
Стр. 30 - MY JO. JOHN Anderson my jo, John, When we were first acquent ; Your locks were like the raven, Your bonnie brow was brent ; But now your brow is beld, John Your locks are like the snaw ; But blessings on your frosty pow, John Anderson my jo. John Anderson my jo, John, We clamb the hill thegither ; And mony a canty day, John, We've had wi...
Стр. 134 - My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here : My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer; Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe, My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go.
Стр. 52 - As fair art thou, my bonie lass, So deep in luve am I : And I will luve thee still, my Dear, Till a' the seas gang dry. Till a' the seas gang dry, my Dear, And the rocks melt wi' the sun : And I will luve thee still, my Dear, While the sands o
Стр. 28 - It is the moon, I ken her horn, That's blinkin' in the lift sae hie; She shines sae bright to wyle us hame, But, by my sooth, she'll wait a wee ! We are na fou', etc.
Стр. 132 - An' fill it in a silver tassie ; That I may drink before I go A service to my bonnie lassie : The boat rocks at the pier o...

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