Poems, Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect, 第 1 巻T. Cadell jun. and W. Davies, London; and William Creech, Edinburgh., 1797 - 287 ページ |
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aith Amang ance baith Bard blate bleſt bonie braw BRIG canna caſt cloſe countra Cuifs curſed dear Deil e'en e'er Ev'n ev'ry fair faſt fide filly fing firſt fome foul frae gies glaſs guid Halloween hame heart himſel honeft Hornbook houſe ither juſt Laigh Kirk Laird laſs laſſes laſt leſs leuk Mailie Mailie's dead maun monie muckle muſt mutchkin Nae mair ne'er night o'er out-owre owre paſt pleaſure poor pow'r preſent Profe raiſe reſt rhyme ROBERT BURNS ruftic ſae Samfon's dead ſay ſcanty Scotland ſee ſeen ſet ſhall ſhape ſhe ſhould ſhow ſkill ſocial ſome ſtate ſtill ſtrains ſtream ſtring ſweet Tam Samfon's dead tell thee thegither There's thoſe thou thrang thro unco verſe weary weel Whare Whisky Whyles ye'll ye're ΧΙ
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161 ページ - 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's resisted.
204 ページ - That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble Has cost thee mony a weary nibble! Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble, But house or hald, To thole the winter's sleety dribble, An
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159 ページ - Gies now and then a wallop, What ragings must his veins convulse That still eternal gallop: Wi' wind and tide fair i' your tail, Right on ye scud your sea-way; But in the teeth o' baith to sail, It maks an unco leeway.
217 ページ - It's no in making muckle, mair : It's no in books, it's no in lear, To make us truly blest : If happiness hae not her seat And centre in the breast, We may be wise, or rich, or great, But never can be blest : Nae treasures, nor pleasures, Could make us happy lang ; The heart ay's the part ay, That makes us right or wrang. Think ye, that sic as you and I, Wha drudge and drive thro...
191 ページ - Whyles owre a linn the burnie plays, As thro' the glen it wimpl't; Whyles round a rocky scar it strays; Whyles in a wiel it dimpl't; Whyles glitter'd to the nightly rays, Wi' bickerin, dancin dazzle ; Whyles cookit underneath the braes, Below the spreading hazel, Unseen that night.
204 ページ - An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain, For promis'd joy. Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me ! The present only toucheth thee : But, Och ! I backward cast my e'e On prospects drear ! An...
106 ページ - An' now, auld Cloots, I ken ye're think-in', A certain Bardie's rantin', drinkin', Some luckless hour will send him linkin', To your black pit ; But, faith ! he'll turn a corner jinkin', An cheat you yet. But, fare you weel, auld Nickie-ben ! O wad ye tak a thought an' men' ! Ye aiblins might — I dinna ken — Still hae a stake : I'm wae to think upo...
203 ページ - I'm truly sorry man's dominion. Has broken nature's social union, An' justifies that ill opinion, Which makes thee startle At me, thy poor earth-born companion, An...