Early Critical Reviews on Robert Burns

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Page 78 - The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace, The big ha'-Bible, ance his father's pride ; His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside, His lyart haffets wearing thin and bare ; Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, He wales a portion with judicious care, And " Let us worship God !
Page 251 - THESE, as they change, ALMIGHTY FATHER, these Are but the varied God. The rolling year Is full of THEE. Forth in the pleasing Spring THY beauty walks, THY tenderness and love. Wide flush the fields ; the softening air is balm ; Echo the mountains round ; the forest smiles ; And every sense, and every heart is joy. Then comes THY glory in the Summer months, With light and heat refulgent. Then THY sun...
Page 55 - But hark ! a rap comes gently to the door. Jenny, wha kens the meaning o' the same, Tells how a neebor lad cam o'er the moor, To do some errands, and convoy her hame. The wily mother sees the conscious flame Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, and flush her cheek ; Wi' heart-struck, anxious care, inquires his name, While Jenny hafflins is afraid to speak ; Weel pleas'd the mother hears, it's nae wild, worthless rake. Wi...
Page 79 - An' weary winter comin' fast, An' cozie here, beneath the blast, Thou thought to dwell, 'Till, crash ! the cruel coulter past Out thro' thy cell. That wee bit heap o...
Page 105 - I am as free as nature first made man, Ere the base laws of servitude began, When wild in woods the noble savage ran.
Page 291 - Farewell, my friends; farewell, my foes ! My peace with these, my love with those : The bursting tears my heart declare...
Page 60 - 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...
Page 114 - Had we never loved sae kindly, Had we never loved sae blindly, Never met, or never parted, We had ne'er been broken-hearted.
Page 60 - A winnock bunker in the east, There sat auld 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 85 - O Mary! dear departed shade! Where is thy place of blissful rest ? See'st thou thy lover lowly laid? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast? That sacred hour can I forget, — Can I forget the hallowed grove, Where by the winding Ayr we met To live one day of parting love...

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