Life of Robert Burns

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Constable and Company, 1828 - 310 pages
 

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Page 176 - I dearly like the west, For there the bonnie lassie lives, the lassie I lo'e best; There wildwoods grow, and rivers row, and many a hill between ; But day and night my fancy's flight is ever wi
Page 25 - stookit raw, Wi' claivers and haivers Wearing the day awa—. E'en 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 useful plan or book could make,
Page 41 - on the throne shall dwell among them. " 16. They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more; neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat. " 17. For the Lamb that is in the midst of the throne (hall feed them, and shall lead them unto
Page 157 - Poetic ardours in my bosom swell, Lone wandering by the hermit's mossy cell; The sweeping theatre of hanging woods ; The incessant roar of headlong-tumbling floods . . . . Here Poesy might wake her heaven-taught lyre, And look through nature with creative fire .... Here, to the wrongs of fate half reconciled, And Disappointment, in these lonely bounds.
Page 52 - kets; and, in short, in spite of the devil, and the world, and the flesh, I believe I should have been a wise man ; but the first year, from unfortunately buying bad seed, the second, from a late harvest, we lost half our crops. This overset all my wisdom, and I returned, like t/ie dog to
Page 112 - I was a lad of fifteen in 1786-7, when he came first to Edinburgh, but had sense and feeling enough to be much interested in his poetry, and would have given the world to know him ; but I had very little acquaintance with any literary people, and still less with the
Page 249 - and then,—look out for objects in Nature round me that are in unison or harmony with the cogitations of my fancy, and workings of my bosom,—humming every now and then the air, with the verses I have framed. When I feel my muse beginning to jade, I retire to the
Page 201 - in their teens ; > Their sarks, instead of creeshie flannen, Been snaw-white seventeen-hunder * linen,—, Thir breeks o' mine, my only pair, That ance were plush o' good blue hair, I wad hae gi'en them off my hurdies, For ae blink o' the bonnie burdies!'
Page 34 - When corn rigs are bonnie, Beneath the moon's unclouded light, I held awa to Annie. The time flew by wi' tentless heed, Till, 'tween the late and early, Wi' sma' persuasion she agreed To see me thro' the barley,
Page 35 - Shandy and The Man of Feeling—were my bosom favourites. Poesy was still a darling walk for my mind ; but it was only indulged in according to the humour of the hour. I had usually half a dozen or more pieces on hand; I took up one or other, as it suited the momentary tone of the