The Poetical Works of Robert Anderson (Google eBook)

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B. Scott, 1820
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Page 38 - The learn'd is happy nature to explore, The fool is happy that he knows no more ; The rich is happy in the plenty given, The poor contents him with the care of Heaven.
Page 38 - tis better to be lowly born, And range with humble livers in content, Than to be perk'd up in a glistering grief, And wear a golden sorrow.
Page 66 - True generosity rises above the ordinary rules of social conduct, and flows with much too full a stream to be comprehended within the precise marks of formal precepts. It is a vigorous principle in the soul, which opens and expands all her virtues far beyond those which are only the forced and unnatural productions of a timid obedience.
Page 123 - you've gotten a wrang pig by t' lug, for I canna write." Then a fellow leyke a lobster, aw leac'd and feather'd, ax'd me. " Watty, wull te 'list ? thou's owther be a general or a gomoral.
Page 168 - That's a bluid meer," says aul Breakshe, " she was gitten by Shrimp, an out o' Madam Wagtail ; she wan t' King's plate at Dongkister, tudder year." " Wan the deevil !" says yen lull him, " tou means t' breydle at Kingmuir, mill !" " Here's a naig ! nobbet just nwotish his een ! he can see thro' a nine-inch waw. Fuils tell o' fortifications ; what he hes a breest leyke a fiftiflcation.
Page 177 - Fairer than any flow'r that blows, Was Lucy Gray, of Allendale. Pensive at eve, down by the burn, Where oft the maid they us'd to hail, The shepherds now are heard to mourn, For Lucy Gray, of Allendale. With her to join the sportive dance, Far have I stray'd o'er hill and vale, Then pleas'd, each rustic stole a glance At Lucy Gray, of Allendale.
Page 121 - I's be maister mysel j' Sae we buss'd, and I tuik a last luik at the fell. ' On I whussel'd and wonder'd my bundle I flung Owre my shou'der, when Cwoley he efter me sprung, And howl'd, silly fellow ! and fawn'd at my fit, As if to say, Watty, we. munnet part yet! Vol. II. R At Card I stuid wi' a strae i' my mouth, And they tuik me, nae doubt, for a promisin youth.
Page 134 - Twas aw about Cummerlan fwok and feyne pleaces, And, if I can think on't, ye's hear how it ran. Yer buik-larn'd wise gentry, that's seen monie counties, May preach and palaver, and brag as they will O...
Page 149 - Coddle me, Cuddy;' A threesome then caper'd Scotch Reels; Peter Weir cleek'd up auld Mary Dalton, Leyke a cock roun a hen neist he steals; Jwohn. Bell yelp'd out

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