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Page xiv - Far from me and from my friends be such frigid philosophy, as may conduct us indifferent and unmoved over any ground which has been dignified by wisdom, bravery, or virtue. That man is little to be envied, whose patriotism would not gain force upon the plain of Marathon, or whose piety would not grow warmer among the ruins of lona.
Page 54 - And cheerfu' sing, alang wi' me, The reel o' Tullochgorum. O, Tullochgorum 's' my delight, It gars us a' in ane unite, And ony sumph ' that keeps up spite, In conscience I abhor him. For blythe and cheery we's be a, Blythe and cheery, blythe and cheery, Blythe and cheery we's be a', And mak
Page 71 - It fell about the Martinmas, When the wind blew shrill and cauld, Said Edom o' Gordon to his men,
Page 28 - My bellows, too, have lost their wind; . My fire's extinct, my forge decayed, And in the dust my vice is laid. My coal is spent, my iron's gone, My nails are drove, my work is done ; My fire-dried corpse lies here at rest, And, smoke-like, soars up to be bless'd.
Page 54 - Their allegros and a' the rest ; They canna please a Scottish taste Compared wi' Tullochgorum. Let worldly worms their minds oppress Wi' fears o' want and double cess, And sullen sots themsel's distress Wi' keeping up decorum. Shall we sae sour and sulky sit? Sour and sulky, sour and sulky, Sour and sulky shall we sit, Like auld philosophorum?
Page xiv - To abstract the mind from all local emotion would be impossible if it were endeavoured, and would be foolish if it were possible. Whatever withdraws us from the power of our senses ; whatever makes the past, the distant, or the future predominate over the present, advances us in the dignity of thinking beings.
Page 72 - He cam' and lookit again at her ; 0 gin her skin was white ! " I might hae spared that bonnie face To hae been some man's delight."
Page 55 - And dainties a great store o' 'em ! May peace and plenty be his lot, Unstained by any vicious blot ; And may he never want a groat. That's fond of Tullochgorum ! But for the discontented fool, Who wants to be oppression's tool, May envy gnaw his rotten soul, And discontent devour him ! May dool and sorrow be his chance, Dool and sorrow, dool and sorrow, May dool and sorrow be his chance, And nane say, Wae's me for 'im ! May dool and sorrow be his chance. And a...