The Works of Robert Burns: Poems formerly published, with some additions, and a history of these poems, by Gilbert BurnsT. Cadell and W. Davies, 1806 |
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71 psl.
... blate nor scaur . Whyles , ranging like a roarin lion , For prey , a ' holes an ' corners tryin ; Whyles on the strong - wing'd tempest flyin , Tirling the kirks ; Whyles , in the human bosom pryin , Unseen thou lurks . I've heard my ...
... blate nor scaur . Whyles , ranging like a roarin lion , For prey , a ' holes an ' corners tryin ; Whyles on the strong - wing'd tempest flyin , Tirling the kirks ; Whyles , in the human bosom pryin , Unseen thou lurks . I've heard my ...
126 psl.
... blate , an ' some wi ' gabs , Gar lasses hearts gang startin Whiles fast at night . IV . Then first and foremost , thro ' the kail , Their stocks * maun a ' be sought ance ; They steek their een , an ' graip an ' wale , For muckle anes ...
... blate , an ' some wi ' gabs , Gar lasses hearts gang startin Whiles fast at night . IV . Then first and foremost , thro ' the kail , Their stocks * maun a ' be sought ance ; They steek their een , an ' graip an ' wale , For muckle anes ...
176 psl.
... the mother's eye ; Blythe Jenny sees the visit's no ill ta'en ; The father cracks of horses , pleughs , and kye . The youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi ' joy . But But blate and laithfu ' , scarce can weel behave 176.
... the mother's eye ; Blythe Jenny sees the visit's no ill ta'en ; The father cracks of horses , pleughs , and kye . The youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi ' joy . But But blate and laithfu ' , scarce can weel behave 176.
177 psl.
Robert Burns. But blate and laithfu ' , scarce can weel behave ; The mother , wi ' a woman's wiles , can spy What makes the youth sae bashfu ' an ' sae grave ; Weel pleas'd to think her bairn's respected like the lave . IX . O happy love ...
Robert Burns. But blate and laithfu ' , scarce can weel behave ; The mother , wi ' a woman's wiles , can spy What makes the youth sae bashfu ' an ' sae grave ; Weel pleas'd to think her bairn's respected like the lave . IX . O happy love ...
342 psl.
... blate to seek , owre proud to snool , Let him draw near ; And owre this grassy heap sing dool , And drap a tear . Is there a bard of rustic song , Who , noteless , steals the crowds among , That weekly this area throng , O , pass not by ...
... blate to seek , owre proud to snool , Let him draw near ; And owre this grassy heap sing dool , And drap a tear . Is there a bard of rustic song , Who , noteless , steals the crowds among , That weekly this area throng , O , pass not by ...
Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
aboon aerial band aith amaist amang auld baith bard Beneath blate blest bonnie bonnie lasses braw BRIG brunstane cauld dear Deil e'en e'er Ev'n ev'ry fair fate fear flow'rs fortune's frae gien gies glorious grace guid Halloween hame haud hear heart Heav'n honest humble ither John Barleycorn lasses life's Mailie maun monie mourn muckle muse mutchkin nae mair Nature's ne'er neebor never night noble o'er out-owre owre the sea pleasure pleugh poet poor pow'r pray'r pride rhyme roar round rustic Samson's dead sang sark Scotia's Scotland sing skelpin soul sugh sweet ta'en taen tear tell thee thegither There's thou thro unco vex'd weary weel Whare Whistle Whyles wild winds winna wretched Ye'll ye're ΤΟ
Populiarios ištraukos
178 psl. - The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace, The big ha -Bible, ance his father's pride : His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside, His lyart haffets wearing thin an' bare ; Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, He wales a portion with judicious care ; And ' Let us worship GOD !
186 psl. - See yonder poor, o'erlabour'd wight, So abject, mean, and vile, Who begs a brother of the earth To give him leave to toil ; And see his lordly fellow-worm The poor petition spurn, Unmindful, tho' a weeping wife And helpless offspring mourn.
333 psl. - And in an instant all was dark : And scarcely had he Maggie rallied, When out the hellish legion sallied. As bees bizz out wi...
203 psl. - Unskilful he to note the card Of prudent lore, Till billows rage, and gales blow hard, And whelm him o'er! Such fate to suffering Worth is...
201 psl. - WEE, modest, crimson-tipped flow'r, Thou's met me in an evil hour ; For I maun crush amang the stoure Thy slender stem. To spare thee now is past my pow'r, Thou bonie gem. Alas ! it's no thy neebor sweet, The bonie Lark, companion meet ! Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet ! Wi' spreckl'd breast, When upward-springing, blythe, to greet The purpling east.
327 psl. - Tam had got planted unco right; Fast by an ingle, bleezing finely, Wi' reaming swats, that drank divinely ; And at his elbow, Souter Johnny, His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony ; Tam lo'ed him like a vera brither; They had been fou for weeks thegither. The night drave on wi...
202 psl. - O' clod or stane, Adorns the histie stibble-field, Unseen, alane. There, in thy scanty mantle clad, Thy snawie bosom sun-ward spread, Thou lifts thy unassuming head In humble guise ; But now the share uptears thy bed, And low thou lies ! Such is the fate of artless maid, Sweet flow'ret of the rural shade ! By love's simplicity betray'd, And guileless trust, Till she, like thee, all soil'd, is laid Low i
180 psl. - Then kneeling down to Heaven's Eternal King The saint, the father, and the husband prays: Hope 'springs exulting on triumphant wing' That thus they all shall meet in future days: There ever bask in uncreated rays, No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear, Together hymning their Creator's praise, In such society, yet still more dear; While circling Time moves round in an eternal sphere.
329 psl. - The doubling storm roars thro' the woods; The lightnings flash from pole to pole; Near and more near the thunders roll: When, glimmering thro' the groaning trees, Kirk-Alloway seem'd in a bleeze, Thro, ilka bore the beams were glancing, And loud resounded mirth and dancing. Inspiring bold John Barleycorn, What dangers thou canst make us scorn! Wi' tippenny, we fear nae evil; Wi' usquabae, we'll face the Devil!
327 psl. - The night drave on wi' sangs and clatter; And ay the ale was growing better: The landlady and Tam grew gracious, Wi' favours, secret, sweet, and precious: The souter tauld his queerest stories; The landlord's laugh was ready chorus: The storm without might rair and rustle, Tam did na mind the storm a whistle. Care, mad to see a man sae happy, E'en drown'd himsel amang the nappy: As bees flee hame wi' lades o' treasure, The minutes wing'd their way wi' pleasure; Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious,...