What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Alexander Wilson appeared Archie Bard beauty bosom bright Buchanites Burns called character Curlew dark dear death door dreamings of Thee earth eyes father favour fear feelings felt flowers frae genius Glasgow Gleniffer Braes Greenock hand happy hath heard heart heaven hero hexameter honour hope hour human Inchinnan Kilbarchan Kilmalcolm Kilmarnock Kitty labour Lacey lady land light Lillie living Lochwinnoch look Martin memory mind Miss moral morning mother Murphy nature never night noble o'er old arm-chair Oliver Paisley passed poem poet poetry poor present Renfrew RENFREWSHIRE replied Robert Burns Robert Tannahill round scene Scotland Scottish smile Somerled song soon soul spirit Stanley Moor stone stood sweet tears tell things thou thought tion truth turn voice wild William Motherwell wind wish words young
Page 182 - Two sudden blows with a ragged stick And one with a heavy stone, One hurried gash with a hasty knife — And then the deed was done: There was nothing ly,ing at my foot, But lifeless flesh and bone!
Page 236 - Wherein of antres vast and deserts idle, Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch heaven, It was my hint to speak, — such was the process: And of the Cannibals that each other eat, The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads Do grow beneath their shoulders.
Page 260 - HAPPY the man, whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air, In his own ground. Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, Whose flocks supply him with attire ; Whose trees in summer yield him shade, In winter fire.
Page 155 - The whole world was not half so wide To Alexander, when he cry'd Because he had but one to subdue, As was a paltry narrow tub to Diogenes ; who is not said (For aught that ever I could read) To whine, put finger i' th' eye, and sob, Because h
Page 180 - Giant of air we bid thee hail! — How his gray skirts toss in the whirling gale; How his huge and writhing arms are bent To clasp the zone of the firmament, And fold at length, in their dark embrace, From mountain to mountain the visible space.
Page 198 - Mine own death's in this clenched hand ! I know the noble trust ; These limbs must rot on yonder strand — these lips must lick its dust : But shall this dusky standard quail in the red slaughter day; Or shall this heart its purpose fail — this arm forget to slay? I trample down such idle doubt ; Harald's high blood hath sprung From sires whose hands in martial bout have ne'er belied their tongue ; Nor keener from their castle rock rush eagles on their prey, Than, panting for the battle-shock,...
Page 155 - Her feet beneath her petticoat Like little mice stole in and out, As if they feared the light: But, oh ! she dances such a way— No sun upon an Easter day Is half so fine a sight.
Page 354 - O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven; It hath the primal eldest curse upon't; A brother's murder! Pray can I not, Though inclination be as sharp as will: My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent; And, like a man to double business bound, I stand in pause where I shall first begin, And both neglect. What if this cursed hand Were thicker than itself with brother's...