The works of Robert Burns; with an account of his life, and a criticism on his writings. To which are prefixed, some observations on the character and condition of the Scottish peasantry. As ed. by J. Currie (Google eBook)
What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Other editions - View all
admire ain dear Allan amang anither auld auld lang syne ballad banks bard beautiful Birks of Aberfeldy blest Blithe bonnie bonnie Doon bosom braes breast BURNS Caledonia cauld charming Chloris CHORUS claut Coila dear Sir dearest dearie delight Dumfries e'en Edinburgh English song fair fancy favourite flowers frae give glen green hame happy heart heaven Highland humour ilka John Anderson lass lassie Leiger lo'es Lord Gregory lover luve mair maun merit mony morning muse ne'er never night o'er Phillis Pindar pleased pleasure poem poet poetry poor Ragwort Rob Morris Scots Scottish sing stanza sweet syne taste tell tender thee thine THOMSON Thou hast thro tune verses wander weary wee thing weel wild Willie winds young Jessie
Page 179 - Wha will be a traitor knave? Wha can fill a coward's grave? Wha sae base as be a slave? Let him turn and flee! Wha for Scotland's king and law Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Freeman stand, or freeman fa?
Page 314 - Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides, And winds by the cot where my Mary resides ; How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave, As gathering sweet flow'rets she stems thy clear wave.
Page 299 - 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...
Page 15 - 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' tender; And pledging aft to meet again, We tore oursels asunder; But, Oh!
Page 295 - 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...
Page 275 - ALTHO' thou maun never be mine, Altho' even hope is denied ; 'Tis sweeter for thee despairing, Than aught in the world beside — Jessy ! Here's a health, &c. I mourn thro' the gay, gaudy day, As, hopeless, I muse on thy charms : But welcome the dream o' sweet slumber, For then I am lockt in thy arms — Jessy ! Here's a health, &c.