The Genius and Character of Burns

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Wiley and Putnam, 1845 - 222 pages
 

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Page 131 - And all their echoes mourn. The willows, and the hazel copses green, Shall now no more be seen Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays.
Page 16 - Thou ling'ring 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 124 - Then let us pray that come it may As come it will for a...
Page 31 - November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh; The short'ning winter-day is near a close; The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh; The black'ning trains o' craws to their repose: The toil-worn Cotter frae his labour goes, This night his weekly moil is at an end, Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes, Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend, And weary, o'er the moor, his course does hameward bend. At length his lonely cot appears in view, Beneath the shelter of an aged tree; Th' expectant...
Page 131 - Return Alpheus, the dread voice is past, That shrunk thy streams; return Sicilian Muse, And call the Vales, and bid them hither cast Their Bells, and Flowerets of a thousand hues. Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use, Of shades and wanton winds, and gushing brooks, On whose fresh lap the swart Star sparely looks, Throw hither all your quaint enamelled eyes, That on the green turf suck the honied showers, And purple all the ground with vernal flowers.
Page 172 - Fare thee well! and if for ever, Still for ever, fare thee well: Even though unforgiving, never 'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel. Would that breast were bared before thee Where thy head so oft hath lain, While that placid sleep came o'er thee Which thou ne'er canst know again: Would that breast, by thee glanced over, Every inmost thought could show!
Page 189 - That hangs his head, and a' that ? The coward-slave, we pass him by, We dare be poor for a' that ! For a' that, and a' that, Our toils obscure, and a' that ; The rank is but the guinea stamp ; The man's the gowd for a
Page 194 - Och! it hardens a' within, And petrifies the feeling! To catch dame Fortune's golden smile, Assiduous wait upon her; And gather gear by ev'ry wile That's justified by honour; Not for to hide it in a hedge, Nor for a train attendant; But for the glorious privilege Of being independent.
Page 53 - I hear her in the tunefu' birds, I hear her charm the air : There's not a bonnie flower that springs By fountain...
Page 34 - They chant their artless notes in simple guise; They tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim : Perhaps ' Dundee's ' wild warbling measures rise, Or plaintive * Martyrs...

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