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acquaintance allow appearance attention believe character compliments copies criticisms dare DEAR SIR doubt DUNLOP Earl Edinburgh English equal esteem fancy favour feel future genius give hand happy head hear heard heart honest honour hope human humble idea interest kind lady late leave letter light live look lord Madam manner March mean meet mention merit mind muse nature never night noble notice obliging Omeron once perhaps person pleased pleasure poems poet poetic poetry poor present reason received respectable Robert Scottish seen sent servant sincerely sing situation songs soon soul suppose sweet taste tell thanks thing thou thought tion told truly tune turn verses whole wife wish write written young
Page 239 - Still o'er these scenes my memory wakes, And fondly broods with miser care ; Time but the impression stronger makes, As streams their channels deeper wear.
Page 59 - No sculptured marble here, nor pompous lay, 'No storied urn nor animated bust;' This simple stone directs pale Scotia's way To pour her sorrows o'er her poet's dust.
Page 147 - ... in an autumnal morning, without feeling an elevation of soul like the enthusiasm of devotion or poetry. Tell me, my dear friend, to what can this be owing! Are we a piece of machinery, which, like the ./Eolian harp, passive, takes the impression of the passing accident; or do these workings argue something within us above the trodden clod...
Page 147 - I have some favourite flowers in spring, among which are the mountain-daisy, the hare-bell, the fox-glove, the wild-brier rose, the budding birch, and the hoary hawthorn, that I view and hang over with particular delight.
Page 146 - Bagdat in order to pass the rest of the day in meditation and prayer. As I was here airing myself on the tops of the mountains, I fell into a profound contemplation on the vanity of human life; and, passing from one thought to another, surely, said I, man is but a shadow and life a dream.
Page 257 - As cold waters to a thirsty soul, so is good news from a far country.
Page 213 - But to conclude my silly rhyme, (I'm scant o' verse, and scant o' time,) To make a happy fire-side clime To weans and wife, That's the true pathos and sublime Of human life.
Page 220 - 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?