Poetical Remains of James the First, King of ScotlandJ. and E. Balfour, 1783 - 246 pages |
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Æneid aera amongſt anceſtors ancient archery Azincourt Biſhop bryt cauſe Chaucer Chriftis Kirk compofed compofitions confort Duke of Albany England Engliſh eſtabliſhed expreffive faid fame fawe fche feems fene fervice fhall filk fing firſt fome fortune freſche ftan ftanza ftill ftrain fubject fuch fuete fuld fung Gavin Douglas genius Gibſon grene grete gude hert hertis himſelf King Henry King James King of Scots King's laft language laſt lufe lytill maid maſters melody miſtreſs mony moſt mufic muft muſic muſt mynd myſelf old Scottiſh perfon phrafe poem of Chrift's poet prefent Prince publiſhed Quhare Quhat quhele Quhen quhich quhile quhite quho Reſtoration ſche Scotland Scots Scottiſh fongs Scottish language ſeveral ſpace ſtill taſte thaire thame thay therewt theſe thoſe thou trew tuke tyme uſed vnto Waly wele whofe wold words zour zouth
Popular passages
Page 63 - Heaven from all creatures hides the book of fate, All but the page prescribed, their present state : From brutes what men, from men what spirits know : Or who could suffer being here below ? The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to-day, Had he thy reason, would he skip and play ? Pleased to the last, he crops the flowery food, And licks the hand just raised to shed his blood.
Page 110 - At once on the eastern cliff of Paradise He lights; and to his proper shape returns A seraph wing'd : six wings he wore, to shade His lineaments divine ; the pair that clad Each shoulder, broad, came mantling o'er his breast With regal ornament ; the middle pair Girt like a starry zone his waist, and round Skirted his loins and thighs with downy gold, And colours dipt in heaven; the third his feet Shadow'd from either heel with feather'd mail, Sky-tinctured grain. Like Maia's son he stood, And shook...
Page 105 - OLD as I am, for ladies' love unfit, The power of beauty I remember yet, Which once inflamed my soul, and still inspires my wit.
Page 72 - Sen every wight has thereof suffisance, That I behold, and I a creature Put from all this — hard is myn aventure!
Page 52 - Soon brings a well-built palace down. Poets that lasting marble seek, Must carve in Latin or in Greek : We write in sand, our language grows, And, like the tide, our work o'erflows. Chaucer his sense can only boast, The glory of his numbers lost ! Years have defaced his matchless strain, And yet he did not sing in vain.
Page 73 - The long dayes and the nyghtis eke, I wold bewaille my fortune in this wise, For quhich again distresse confort to seke, My custum was on mornis for to rise Airly as day, O happy exercise ! By the come I to joye out of turment, Bot now to purpose of my first entent.
Page 83 - And other of schap like to the floure jonettis; And above all this, there was, wele I wot, Beautee eneuch to mak a world to dote.
Page 190 - Hills, where the scenes of this pastoral poem are laid, the seat of Mr. Forbes, and the resort of many of the literati at that time, I well remember to have heard Ramsay recite, as his own production, different scenes of the Gentle Shepherd, particularly the two first, before it was printed.
Page 103 - Full oft by holy feet our ground was trod, Of clerks good plenty here you mote espy. A little, round, fat, oily man of God, Was one I chiefly mark'd among the fry : He had a roguish twinkle in his eye, And shone all glittering with ungodly dew, If a tight damsel chaunc'd to trippen by ; Which when observ'd, he shrunk into his mew, And straight would recollect his piety anew.
Page 77 - Quhat lyf is this, that makis birdis dote? Quhat may this be, how cummyth it of ought? Quhat nedith it to be so dere ybought? It is nothing, trowe I, bot feynit chere, 20 And that men list to counterfeten chere.