Whitehead, 1785, to Anstey, 1805 (Google eBook)

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Thomas Campbell
John Murray, 1819 - English poetry
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Page 269 - THOU lingering star, with less'ning ray That lov'st to greet the early morn, Again thou usher'st in the day My Mary from my soul was torn. O Mary ! dear departed shade ! Where is thy place of blissful rest! Seest thou thy lover lowly laid? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?
Page 265 - Wi' mair o' horrible and awfu', Which ev"n to name wad be unlawfu'. As Tammie glowr'd, amaz'd, and curious, The mirth and fun grew fast and furious : The piper loud and louder blew ; The dancers quick and quicker flew ; They reel'd, they set, they cross'd, they cleekit, Till ilka carlin swat and reekit, And coost her duddies to the wark, And linket at it in her sark ! Now Tam, O Tam ! had thae been queans, A' plump and strapping in their teens ; Their sarks, instead o...
Page 264 - Nick, in shape o' beast ; A towzie tyke, black, grim, and large, To gie them music was his charge : He screw'd the pipes and gart them skirl, Till roof and rafters a...
Page 263 - And thro' the whins, and by the cairn, Whare hunters fand the murder'd bairn; And near the thorn, aboon the well, Whare Mungo's mither hang'd hersel. Before him Doon pours all his floods; The doubling storm roars thro' the woods; The lightnings flash from pole to pole; Near and more near the thunders roll: When, glimmering thro' the groaning trees, Kirk-Alloway seemed in a bleeze, Thro' ilka bore the beams were glancing, And loud resounded mirth and dancing.
Page 259 - O' clod or stane, Adorns the histie stibble-field Unseen, alane. There, in thy scanty mantle clad, Thy snawie bosom sunward spread, Thou lifts thy unassuming head In humble guise ; But now the share uptears thy bed, And low thou lies...
Page 266 - Cutty-sark!" And in an instant all was dark; And scarcely had he Maggie rallied, When out the hellish legion sallied. As bees bizz out wi' angry fyke, When plundering herds assail their byke: As open pussie's mortal foes, When, pop! she starts before their nose; As eager runs the market-crowd, When "Catch the thief!" resounds aloud: So Maggie runs, the witches follow, Wi' monie an eldritch skreech and hollow, Ah, Tam!
Page 261 - Kirkton Jean till Monday. She prophesied that, late or soon, Thou would be found deep drown'd in Doon ! Or catch'd wi' warlocks in the mirk, By Alloway's auld haunted kirk. Ah, gentle dames ! it gars me greet To think how...
Page 368 - There is no flesh in man's obdurate heart ; It does not feel for man. The nat'ral bond Of brotherhood is sever'd, as the flax That falls asunder at the touch of fire. He finds his fellow guilty of a skin Not coloured like his own ; and having power T' enforce the wrong for such a worthy cause,.
Page 133 - Our portion is not large, indeed ; But then how little do we need ! For Nature's calls are few : In this the art of living lies, To want no more than may suffice, And make that little do.
Page 368 - OH for a lodge in some vast wilderness, Some boundless contiguity of shade, Where rumour of oppression and deceit, Of unsuccessful or successful war, Might never reach me more.

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