The Poetical Works: Of Robert Fergusson, with the Life of the Author. By David Irving. Embellished with Three Elegant Engravings. Chapman and Lang's EditionChapman and Lang, 1800 - 223 oldal |
Részletek a könyvből
1 - 5 találat összesen 16 találatból.
30. oldal
... dead . In the former of these verses , music must be regarded as an art , and in the latter , as a nymph or goddess . To enter upon a particular examination of his vari- ous poetical essays , would be an unnecessary task : his beauties ...
... dead . In the former of these verses , music must be regarded as an art , and in the latter , as a nymph or goddess . To enter upon a particular examination of his vari- ous poetical essays , would be an unnecessary task : his beauties ...
20. oldal
... dead with fear ! But thou canst dart thy streaming ray , And change close night to open day . Health is attendant in thy radiant train , Round her the whisp'ring zephyrs gently play , Behold her gladly tripping o'er the plain , Bedeck'd ...
... dead with fear ! But thou canst dart thy streaming ray , And change close night to open day . Health is attendant in thy radiant train , Round her the whisp'ring zephyrs gently play , Behold her gladly tripping o'er the plain , Bedeck'd ...
48. oldal
... Dead on the ground shall be reviv❜d for thee . Some skilful artist of a French frizeur , With graceful ringlets shall thy temples bind , And cull the precious relics from the floor , yet may flutter in the wanton wind . Which VERSES ...
... Dead on the ground shall be reviv❜d for thee . Some skilful artist of a French frizeur , With graceful ringlets shall thy temples bind , And cull the precious relics from the floor , yet may flutter in the wanton wind . Which VERSES ...
58. oldal
... dead , Rather than bear the miserable gloom , When all his comfort , all his friends are fled ? Bear me , ye gods ! where I may calmly rest From all the follies of the night secure ; The balmy blessings of Repose to taste , Nor hear the ...
... dead , Rather than bear the miserable gloom , When all his comfort , all his friends are fled ? Bear me , ye gods ! where I may calmly rest From all the follies of the night secure ; The balmy blessings of Repose to taste , Nor hear the ...
71. oldal
... dead Remote lie anchor'd in their parent mould ; Where a few fading willows point the state Of man's decay . Ah , Death ! where'er we fly , Whether we seek the busy and the gay , The mourner or the joyful , there art thou , No distant ...
... dead Remote lie anchor'd in their parent mould ; Where a few fading willows point the state Of man's decay . Ah , Death ! where'er we fly , Whether we seek the busy and the gay , The mourner or the joyful , there art thou , No distant ...
Gyakori szavak és kifejezések
aften Arthur's Seat Auld Reikie baith beauty blaw blest blythe bonny braw breeze browster busk caller canna canty cheer chiel cottar cou'd death dowy e'en e'er Eclogue Edina's Elegy ev'ry fair Fancy Fergusson Fife flow'rs fock frae friends gales glowr green groves hail hame happy hath heart heeze ilka lads lang's lasses lyre maun mind mirth mony morn mourn Muse Nae mair Naiads ne'er never night numbers o'er plain poem poet poortith pow'r ROBERT FERGUSSON round SAMUEL JOHNSON scene seenil shade shepherd shore shou'd sighs siller simmer sing smiles song spring strain streams swain sweet thee thir thole thou thro tongue trow Twas unco virtue voice wame weel weet Whan Whare Whase Whilk wing wirrikow wonted yence youth
Népszerű szakaszok
106. 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.
52. oldal - Sing his praises that doth keep Our flocks from harm, Pan, the father of our sheep ; And arm in arm Tread we softly in a round, Whilst the hollow neighbouring ground Fills the music with her sound.
105. oldal - Maks mony kail-worms butterflies, Gies mony a doctor his degrees For little skaith : In short, you may be what you please Wi' gude Braid Claith. For thof ye had as wise a snout on As Shakespeare or Sir Isaac Newton, Your judgment fouk wad hae a doubt on, I'll tak my aith, Till they cou'd see ye wi* a suit on O
116. oldal - An' may they scad their lips fu' leal, That dip their spoons in ither's kail. ODE TO THE GOWDSPINK. Jr RAE fields where Spring her sweets has blawn Wi' caller verdure our the lawn, The Gowdspink comes in new attire, The brawest 'mang the whistling choir, That, ere the sun can clear his ein, Wi' glib notes sane the simmer's green.
117. oldal - mang the sudden fa's O' winter's dreary dreepin' snaws. Now steekit frae the gowany field, Frae ilka fav'rite houff and bield, But mergh, alas ! to disengage Your bonny bouck frae fettering cage, Your free-born bosom beats in vain For darling liberty again. In window hung, how aft we see Thee keek around at warblers free. That carrol saft, and sweetly sing Wi
168. oldal - The scansing glories o' carmine ! Ah, legs ! in vain the silk-worm there Display'd to view her eident care ; For stink, instead of perfumes, grow, And clarty odours fragrant flow. Now some to porter, some to punch, Some to their wife, and some their wench, Retire, while noisy ten-hours' drum Gars a' your trades gac dand'ring home. Now mony a club, jocose and free, Gie a...
140. oldal - TO THE TRON-KIRK BELL. WANWORDY, crazy, dinsome thing, As e'er was fram'd to jow or ring, What gar'd them sic in steeple hing They ken themsel', But weel wat I they cou'dna bring Waur sounds frae hell.
127. oldal - An' loup like Hebe o'er the grass, As wanton and as free, Frae dule this day. 'I dwall amang the caller springs That weet the Land o' Cakes, And aften tune my canty strings At bridals and late-wakes: They ca...
98. oldal - For nought can cheer the heart sae weel As can a canty Highland reel; It even vivifies the heel To skip and dance: Lifeless is he wha canna feel Its influence. Let mirth abound ; let social cheer Invest the dawning of the year; Let blithesome innocence appear To crown our joy; Nor envy, wi' sarcastic sneer, Our bliss destroy.
134. 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.