The poems of Robert Fergusson, with a life of theauthor, and remarks on his genius and writings, by J. Gray

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33. 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?
xv. 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.
114. oldal - The spinsters and the knitters in the sun, And the free maids that weave their thread with bones, Do use to chant it ; it is silly sooth, And dallies with the innocence of love, Like the old age.
79. oldal - When you censure the age, Be cautious and sage, Lest the courtiers offended, should be ; If you mention vice or bribe, 'Tis so pat to all the tribe, Each cries — That was levelld at me.
109. oldal - HAPPY the man who, void of cares and strife, In silken or in leathern purse retains A Splendid Shilling.
143. oldal - Shall heeze her heart up wi' a silent joy, Fu' cadgie that her head was up, and saw Her ain spun cleedin on a darlin oy ; Careless tho' death shon'd mak the feast her foy.
59. 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...
143. oldal - O mock na this, my friends ! but rather mourn, Ye in life's brawest spring wi' reason clear ; Wi' eild our idle fancies a' return, And dim our dolefu' days wi' bairnly fear ; The mind's ay cradled whan the grave is near.
104. oldal - Sends drift owr a' his bleak domain, And guides the weir. Auld Reikie ! thou'rt the canty hole, A bield for mony a caldrife soul, Wha snugly at thine ingle loll, Baith warm and couth ; While round they gar the bicker roll To weet their mouth. • When merry Yule-day comes, I trow You'll scantlins find a hungry mou ; Sma' are our cares, our stamacks fou O' gusty gear, And kickshaws, strangers to our view, Sin Fairn-year.
128. oldal - This is the name that doctors use Their patients noddles to confuse ; Wi' simples clad in terms abstruse, They labour still, In kittle words to gar you roose Their want o

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