The Poems of Robert Fergusson: in Two Parts. To which is Prefixed, the Life of the Author, and a Sketch of His Writings; with a Copious Glossary Annexed
Benjamin Chapman. A. Small, printer., 1815 - 331 oldal
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Auld baith beauty bell bonny breath bring cheer cou'd dark dead death dowy drink earth EPIGRAM face fair Fancy fear fields fock frae give green groves grow gude hame hand happy hath head hear heart hills hope ilka Italy lads land leave light living look mair maun mind mony morn mourn Muse Nature ne'er never night o'er o’er plain play pleasure poor pow'r rich rise rose round scene seen shade shepherd shore shou'd sigh sing smiles song sons sound spring stand strain streams swain sweet tear tell thee thir thou thought thro Till tongue turn Twas virtue voice waters weel Whan Whare wild wing wish woes youth
62. oldal - O ! who can hold a fire in his hand By thinking on the frosty Caucasus? Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite By bare imagination of a feast?
194. oldal - Ferguson, whose irregularities sometimes led him into unpleasant rencontres with these military conservators of public order, and who mentions them so often that he may be termed their poet...
226. oldal - At night, in calmest slumbers dose fu' sound ; Nor doctor need their weary life to spae, Nor drogs their noddle and their sense confound, Till death slip sleely on, and gie the hindmost wound.
iv. oldal - 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.
205. oldal - A cauler burn o' siller sheen, Ran cannily out-owre the green ; And whan our gutcher's drouth had been To bide right sair, He loutit down, and drank bedeen A dainty skair. His bairns had a', before the flood, A langer tack o* flesh and blood ; • * And on mair pithy shanks they stood Than Noah's line, Wha still hae been a feckless brood, Wi
179. oldal - HAPPY the man who, void of cares and strife, In silken or in leathern purse retains A Splendid Shilling.
100. oldal - O great god Pan, to thee Thus do we sing ! Thou that keep'st us chaste and free As the young spring ; Ever be thy honour spoke, From that place the Morn is broke To that place Day doth unyoke...
288. oldal - Wi' thee but wi' a dowy heart; Aft frae the Fifan coast I've seen Thee tow'ring on thy summit green, So glowr the saints when first is given A fav'rite keek o...