The Works of Robert Burns: With an Account of His Life, and a Criticism on His Writings; to which are Prefixed, Some Observations on the Character and Condition of the Scottish Peasantry, 1. köideF. Lucas, jun. and J. Cushing, 1814 |
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acquaintance admired Allan Ramsay appear auld Ayrshire ballad bard beautiful Blind Harry bonnie bosom braes brother character charms composition conversation dear sir delicacy delight dialect Dumfries Edinburgh effect Ellisland English excelled fancy farm father favour frae genius Gilbert Burns give happy heart Highland honour house of Stewart humble humour imagination interesting Jedburgh Kilmarnock kind labour language lass letter lived Lord Gregory manners Mauchline mind moral Mossgiel muse native nature ne'er never night o'er observations original parish passion peasantry perhaps persons pleasure poems poet poetical poetry powers racter Ramsay respect Robert Robert Burns rural rustic scenery scenes Scot Scotland Scottish songs sensibility sentiments society stanza sublime superior sweet talents Tarbolton taste temper tender thee THOMSON thou tion tune verses wild William Burnes words writing young Jessie
Popular passages
Page 417 - ... that, and a' that, Their dignities, and a' that, The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth, Are higher rank than a' that. Then let us pray that come it may, — As come it will for a' that, — That Sense and Worth, o'er a' the earth, May bear the gree, and a' that. For a
Page 347 - Wha will be a traitor knave? Wha can fill a coward's grave? Wha sae base as be a slave? Let him turn and flee! Wha for Scotland's king and law Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Freeman stand or freeman fa', Let him follow me!
Page 33 - I was not so presumptuous as to imagine that I could make verses like printed ones, composed by men who had Greek and Latin ; but my girl sung a song which was said to be composed by a small country laird's son, on one of his father's maids, with whom he was in love ; and I saw no reason why I might not rhyme as well as he ; for, excepting that he could smear sheep, and cast peats, his father living in the moorlands, he had no more scholar-craft than myself. Thus with me began love and poetry ; which...
Page 305 - O Mary, canst thou wreck his peace, Wha for thy sake wad gladly die ? Or canst thou break that heart of his, Whase only faut is loving thee ? If love for love thou wilt na gie, At least be pity to me shown ! A thought ungentle canna be The thought o
Page 90 - THOU lingering star, with less'ning ray That lov'st to greet the early morn, Again thou usher'st in the day My Mary from my soul was torn. O Mary ! dear departed shade ! Where is thy place of blissful rest! Seest thou thy lover lowly laid? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?
Page 38 - He was the only man I ever saw who was a greater fool than myself, where woman was the presiding star; but he spoke of illicit love with the levity of a sailor, which hitherto I had regarded with horror. Here his friendship did me a mischief; and the consequence was, that soon after I resumed the plough, I wrote the Poet's Welcome.
Page 32 - ... he married ; I was the eldest of seven children : and he, worn out by early hardships, was unfit for labour. My father's spirit was soon irritated, but not easily broken. There was a freedom in his lease in two years more; and, to weather these two years, we retrenched our expenses. We lived very poorly...
Page 424 - Wi' the burn stealing under the lang yellow broom ; Far dearer to me are yon humble broom bowers, Where the blue-bell and gowan lurk lowly unseen ; For there, lightly tripping amang the wild flowers, A listening the linnet, aft wanders my Jean. Tho...
Page 290 - O' my sweet Highland Mary. How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk, How rich the hawthorn's blossom, As underneath their fragrant shade I clasp'd her to my bosom ! The golden hours on angel wings Flew o'er me and my dearie; For dear to me as light and life Was my sweet Highland Mary. Wi' mony a vow and lock'd embrace Our parting was fu' tender; And pledging aft to meet again, We tore oursels asunder; But, Oh!
Page 416 - Our toils obscure, and a' that; The rank is but the guinea's stamp; The man's the gowd for a' that. What tho' on hamely fare we dine, Wear hodden-grey, and a' that; Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine, A man's a man for a' that, For a