The Poetical Works of Andrew Steel

John Forsyth, 1863 - 247 sidor

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Sida 17 - Oh ! ever thus, from childhood's hour, I've seen my fondest hopes decay ; I never loved a tree or flower, But 'twas the first to fade away. I never nursed a dear gazelle. To glad me with its soft black eye, But when it came to know me well, And love me, it was sure to die ! Now too — the joy most like divine Of all I ever dreamt or knew.
Sida 61 - The bell strikes one. We take no note of time, But from its loss. To give it then a tongue, Is wise in man. As if an angel spoke, I feel the solemn sound. If heard aright, It is the knell of my departed hours: Where are they?
Sida 115 - Where the car climb'd the Capitol; far and wide Temple and tower went down, nor left a site: Chaos of ruins! who shall trace the void, O'er the dim fragments cast a lunar light, And say, 'here was, or is,
Sida 195 - I had a wife wi' a hunner or twa ? I've aft had a blink o' Dame Fortune's bricht e'e, But passed her aye by as she cared nae for me; What's wealth but a syren that sings to beguile, And honour a bauble that glitters awhile; For them and for grandeur I little but care — Eneugh be my lot, wi' a morsel to spare: The sma'er the height, 0 the less is the fa', Sae a' my ambition's a hunner or twa. I care nae for beauty, gin she be but guid, I rate nae her worth by connection or bluid; As the fairest...
Sida 238 - Time but the impression stronger makes, As streams their channels deeper wear. " My 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 ?
Sida 115 - Alas ! the lofty city ! and alas ! The trebly hundred triumphs ! and the day When Brutus made the dagger's edge surpass The conqueror's sword in bearing fame away ! Alas, for Tully's voice, and Virgil's lay, And Livy's pictured page ! — but these shall be Her resurrection ; all beside — decay. Alas, for Earth, for never shall we see That brightness in her eye she bore when Rome was free...
Sida 194 - A HUNNER OR TWA. Sing hey for a wife wi' a hunner or twa, A canty bit wife wi' a hunner or twa ; Contentet and blithe, and hoo crouse wad I craw, Gin I had a wife wi...
Sida 148 - And every grove and bower enshrouds For me but memories now. Thus sacred thrice those scenes to me, How thrilling ! how benign ! Round which, as ivy round the tree, My sympathies entwine. Then for yon heights where waves the...
Sida 209 - Unrivalled Flora's loved retreat, Thy smiling garden, hail; An Eden here renewed to meet, What fancy now can fail, As angels' breath thy zephyrs sweet; And oh, the ecstasy, When greets the eye thy blushing walls — The Hirsel yet for me ! Elysian spot, while lasts a string, My lyre I'll tune to thee.
Sida 209 - I'll tune to thee. Dear to my soul, thrice lovely bower, Those nameless sweets of thine; And oh their heaven-inspiring power, How thrilling, how divine...

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