The works of Robert Burns: containing his life, by John Lockhart, esq. ; the poetry and correspondence of Dr. Currie's edition ; biographical sketches of the poet by himself, Gilbert Burns, Professor Stewart, and others (Google eBook)

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W. Pearson, 1835 - 438 pages
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Page 190 - Gude faith, he maunna fa' that ! For a' that, and a' that. Their dignities, and a' that. The pith o' sense, the pride o* worth, Are higher ranks for a' that. Then let us pray, that come it may, As come it will, for a* that. That sense and worth, o'er a
Page 21 - perhaps they rue it. VIII. Who made the heart, 'tis He alone Decidedly can try us, He knows each chord—its various tone. Each spring—its various bias : Then at the balance let's be mute. We never can adjust it ; What's done we partly may compute, But know not what*
Page 191 - deep in luve am I ; And I will love 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 ; I will love thee still, my dear. While the sands o*
Page 190 - worship at his word, He's but a cuif for a* that. For a' that, and a* that, His ribbon, star, and a' that, The man of independent mind, He looks and laughs at a' that A king can make a belted knight, A marquis, duke, and a* that ; But an honest man's
Page 27 - an* fear. A WINTER NIGHT. Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are, That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm ! How shall your houseless heads, and unfed sides, Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you From seasons such as these
Page 207 - first acquaint, Your locks were like the raven, your bonnie brow was brent, But now your head's turned bald, John, your locks are like the snaw. Yet blessings on your frosty pow, John Anderson, my jo. John Anderson, my jo, John, frae year to year we've past, And
Page 239 - thou the groans that rend his breast ? That sacred hour can I forget?— Can I forget the hallow'd grove, Where, by the winding Ayr, we met, To live one day of parting love ? Eternity will not efface Those records dear of transporta past ; Thy image at our last embrace
Page 33 - That thus they all shall meet in future No more to sigh or shed the bitter tear, Together hymning their Creator's praise, In such society, yet still more dear ; While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere. XVII. Compared with this, how poor Religion's pride,
Page 33 - the noblest work of God !" And certes, in fair virtue's heav'nly road, The cottage leaves the palace far behind ; What is a lordling's pomp ! a cumbrous load, Disguising oft the wretch of human kind, Studied in arts of hell, in wickedness refined ! XX. О Scotia ! my dear, my native
Page 51 - pleasures are like poppies spread, You seize the flow'r, its bloom is shed ! Or like the snow-fulls in the river, A moment white—then melts for ever ; Or like the boreulis race. That flit ere you can point their place ; Or like the rainbow's lovely form Evanishing amid the storm.—

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