Què en diuen els usuaris - Escriviu una ressenya
No hem trobat cap ressenya als llocs habituals.
Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
ance appear auld Bard beneath better bonie Brig comes dear Death Deil dogs door doubt draw drink e'er Ev'n ev'ry face fair faith faſt fate fear fight firſt fome frae gang gies grace guid hand head hear heart hill honeſt hour houſe humble ither juſt keep lads land laſt leſs light mark maun meet mind monie morn muſt Nae mair ne'er never night o'er owre pleaſure poor pow'r pride race rhyme riſe round ſae Samſon's dead ſaw ſay Scotch Scotland ſee ſet ſhe ſome ſtill ſweet tell thee There's Thou thought thro Till true unco weary weel Whyles winds Winter worth ye'll young
Pàgina 100 - To scaud poor wretches! Hear me, auld Hangie, for a wee, An' let poor damned bodies be; I'm sure sma' pleasure it can gie, Ev'n to a deil, To skelp an' scaud poor dogs like me, An' hear us squeel! Great is thy pow'r, an' great thy fame; Far kend an' noted is thy name; An' tho' yon lowin heugh's thy hame, Thou travels far; An' faith! thou's neither lag nor lame, Nor blate nor scaur. Whyles, ranging like a roarin lion For prey, a...
Pàgina 217 - It's no in makin muckle mair: It's no in books ; it's no in lear, To make us truly blest : If Happiness hae not her seat And centre in the breast, We may be wise, or rich, or great, But never can be blest : Nae treasures, nor pleasures, Could make us happy lang; The heart...
Pàgina 204 - That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble Has cost thee mony a weary nibble! Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble, But house or hald, To thole the winter's sleety dribble, An
Pàgina 47 - Scripture, They raise a din, that in the end, Is like to breed a rupture O' wrath that day. Leeze me on Drink ! it gi'es us mair Than either School or College : It kindles Wit, it waukens Lair, It pangs us fou o
Pàgina 204 - An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain For promis'd joy. Still thou art blest compared wi' me ! The present only toucheth thee : But, och ! I backward cast my e'e On prospects drear, An' forward, tho' I canna see, I guess an
Pàgina 161 - tis He alone Decidedly can try us, He knows each chord its various tone, Each spring its various bias : Then at the balance let's be mute, We never can adjust it ; What's done we partly may compute, But know not what's resisted.
Pàgina 191 - Whyles owre a linn the burnie plays, As thro' the glen it wimpl't; Whyles round a rocky scar it strays; Whyles in a wiel it dimpl't; Whyles glitter'd to the nightly rays, Wi' bickerin, dancin dazzle ; Whyles cookit underneath the braes, Below the spreading hazel, Unseen that night.
Pàgina 34 - But bring a Scotsman frae his hill, Clap in his cheek a Highland gill, Say, such is royal George's will, An' there's the foe, He has nae thought but how to kill Twa at a blow. Nae cauld, faint-hearted doubtings tease him: Death comes, wi' fearless eye he sees him; Wi' bluidy hand a welcome gies him : An' when he fa's, His latest draught o' breathin lea'es him In faint huzzas.
Pàgina 171 - Yes! let the rich deride, the proud disdain These simple blessings of the lowly train; To me more dear, congenial to my heart, One native charm, than all the gloss of art.