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Amang appears auld bard bear better bonny brother Burns called character charms comes dear death doubt e'er early edition EPISTLE face fair faith fate fear feel Fortune frae grace guid hand happy head hear heart Heaven Highland honour hour John keep kind lass learned leave light live look Lord mair Mary meet mind mony Muse nature ne'er never night o'er owre person play pleasure poem poet poor pride rest rhyme Robert round says Scotland Scottish seen sing song strong sweet tell thee There's thou thought Till true TUNE turned verse wander weary weel young
Page 253 - 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 floweret of the rural shade ! By love's simplicity betray'd, And guileless trust, Till she, like thee, all soil'd, is laid Low i
Page 254 - 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 given, Who long with wants and woes has striven.
Page 135 - 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 though a weeping wife And helpless offspring mourn.
Page 138 - My loved, my honored, much respected friend! No mercenary bard his homage pays; With honest pride, I scorn each selfish end, My dearest meed, a friend's esteem and praise: To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays, The lowly train in life's sequestered scene; The native feelings strong, the guileless ways; What Aiken in a cottage would have been; Ah!
Page 28 - The dance gaed thro' the lighted ha', To thee my fancy took its wing, I sat, but neither heard nor saw: Tho' this was fair, and that was braw, And yon the toast of a' the town, I sigh'd, and said amang them a', 'Ye are na Mary Morison.
Page 272 - My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream, Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.
Page 140 - An' each for other's weelfare kindly spiers : The social hours, swift-wing'd, unnotic'd fleet ; Each tells the uncos that he sees or hears ; The parents, partial, eye their hopeful years ; Anticipation forward points the view. The mother, wi' her needle an' her sheers, Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new; The father mixes a
Page 146 - Compared with this, how poor religion's pride, In all the pomp of method and of art, When men display to congregations wide Devotion's every grace...