The prose works of Robert BurnsJ. Marshall, 1816 - Всего страниц: 705 |
Содержание
213 | |
226 | |
247 | |
255 | |
266 | |
267 | |
272 | |
277 | |
37 | |
38 | |
53 | |
68 | |
97 | |
103 | |
117 | |
125 | |
127 | |
133 | |
135 | |
144 | |
152 | |
157 | |
185 | |
194 | |
205 | |
279 | |
283 | |
293 | |
299 | |
301 | |
305 | |
317 | |
479 | |
498 | |
506 | |
513 | |
558 | |
565 | |
578 | |
604 | |
612 | |
638 | |
Другие издания - Просмотреть все
The Prose Works of Robert Burns: With the Notes of Currie and Cromek and ... Robert Burns Просмотр фрагмента - 1975 |
Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
acquaintance admire allow appearance beautiful beginning believe called character charming compliments copy criticisms dare DEAR SIR DUNLOP Edinburgh English equal expression fair fancy farm favour favourite feelings fortune friendship genius give hand happy head hear heart honest honour hope human idea inclosed interest kind lady late least leave letter light living look Lord madam manner mean meet mention merit mind Miss muse nature never night notice obliged once opinion perhaps person piece pleased pleasure Poems Poet poetic poetry poor present reason received respect Scottish seen sent song soon soul spirit stanzas sure tell thanks thing THOMSON thou thought tion tune turn verses whole wish worth write young
Популярные отрывки
Стр. 20 - ... mortal, I have various sources of pleasure and enjoyment, which are, in a manner, peculiar to myself, or some here and there such other outof-the-way person. Such is the peculiar pleasure I take in the season of WINTER, more than the rest of the year. This, I believe, may be partly owing to my misfortunes giving my mind a melancholy cast : but there is something even in the ' Mighty tempest, and the hoary waste, Abrupt, and deep stretch'd o'er the buried earth," which raises the mind to a serious...
Стр. 159 - I have some favourite flowers in spring, among which are the mountain-daisy, the hare-bell, the fox-glove, the wild-brier rose, the budding birch, and the hoary hawthorn, that I view and hang over with particular delight.
Стр. 496 - Her pure and eloquent blood Spoke in her cheeks, and so distinctly wrought, That one might almost say her body thought.
Стр. 100 - The gloomy night is gathering fast — when a letter from Dr. Blacklock to a friend of mine, overthrew all my schemes, by opening new prospects to my poetic ambition.
Стр. 84 - This cultivated the latent seeds of poetry ; but had so strong an effect on my imagination, that to this hour, in my nocturnal rambles, I sometimes keep a sharp look-out in suspicious places; and though nobody can be more sceptical than I am in such matters, yet it often takes an effort of philosophy to shake off these idle terrorS.
Стр. 100 - This sum came very seasonably, as I was thinking of indenting myself, for want of money to procure my passage. As soon as I was master of nine guineas, the price of wafting me to the torrid zone, I took a steerage passage in the first ship that was to sail from the Clyde...
Стр. 87 - In short, she, altogether unwittingly to herself, initiated me in that delicious passion, which, in spite of acid disappointment, gin-horse prudence, and book-worm philosophy, I hold to be the first of human joys, our dearest blessing here below...
Стр. 375 - Scotland, that it was Robert Bruce's march at the battle of Bannockburn. This thought, in my solitary wanderings, warmed me to a pitch of enthusiasm on the theme of liberty and independence, which I threw into a kind of Scottish ode, fitted to the air, that one might suppose to be the gallant Royal Scot's address to his heroic followers on that eventful morning.
Стр. 605 - I saw in the visions of my head upon my bed, and behold, a watcher and an holy one came down from heaven. He cried aloud, and said thus, Hew down the tree, and cut off his branches ; shake off his leaves, and scatter his fruit; let the beasts get away from under it, and the fowls from his branches.
Стр. 434 - The snaw-drap and primrose our woodlands adorn, And violets bathe in the weet o' the morn ; They pain my sad bosom, sae sweetly they blaw, They mind me o...