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Allan Water amang Auld Ayrshire ballad banks bard beautiful Blacklock bonie lass bosom brother Burns called character charms compliments composed composition copy Currie's DEAR SIR Dugald Stewart Dumfries e'en Edinburgh Ellisland farewel feel frae GAVIN HAMILTON genius gentleman give Glencairn gude Gypsie Laddie hand happy heart Heaven Highland Highland Laddie honest honor hope John kind Laddie lady lassie letter Lord mair Mauchline maun ment mind mony morning Mosgiel muse ne'er never night old song pleasure poem poet Poet's poetic poor rhyme ROBERT BURNS Roslin Castle Scotland Scots Scots Musical Museum Scottish shew sing soul sparklin stanza sweet tell thee There's thing thou thought thro tion tune twa glancin verses weel WILLIAM BURNS wish words write young
Page 429 - 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 324 - As I am what the men of the world, if they knew such a man, would call a whimsical mortal, I have various sources of pleasure and enjoyment, which are, in a manner, peculiar to myself, or some here and there such other out-of-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...
Page 337 - THOU unknown, Almighty Cause Of all my hope and fear ! In whose dread presence, ere an hour, Perhaps I must appear! If I have wander'd in those paths Of life I ought to shun ; • As something, loudly, in my breast, Remonstrates I have done; Thou know'st that thou hast formed me With passions wild and strong; And list'ning to their witching voice Has often led me wrong.
Page 18 - Thou'll break my heart, thou bonnie bird That sings beside thy mate; For sae I sat, and sae I sang, And wist na o' my fate. Aft hae I roved by bonnie Doon To see the woodbine twine, And ilka bird sang o' its love; And sae did I o
Page 96 - It is the moon, I ken her horn, That's blinkin in the lift sae hie; She shines sae bright to wyle us hame, But, by my sooth, she'll wait a wee! Wha first shall rise to gang awa, A cuckold, coward loun is he! Wha first beside his chair shall fa', He is the King amang us three!
Page 35 - Her pure and eloquent blood Spoke in her cheeks, and so distinctly wrought, That one might almost say her body thought.
Page 345 - And wi' the lave ilk merry morn Could rank my rig and lass, Still shearing, and clearing The tither stocked raw, Wi' claivers, an' haivers, Wearing the day awa : Ev'n then a wish, (I mind its power,) A wish that to my latest hour Shall strongly heave my breast ; That I for poor auld Scotland's sake, Some usefu' plan, or beuk could make, Or sing a sang at least.
Page 276 - My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here, My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer, A-chasing the wild deer and following the roe — My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go!
Page 142 - I have three sons, who, I see already, have brought into the world souls ill qualified to inhabit the bodies of slaves. Can I look tamely on, and see any machination to wrest from them the birthright of my boys — the little independent Britons, in whose veins runs my own blood? No! I will not ! should my heart's blood stream around my attempt to defend it ! Does any man tell me...