Poems

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S. Hodgson, 1813 - 160 pages

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Page 150 - I'd weep the world to such a strain That it should deluge once again. But since thy loud-tongued blood demands supplies More from Briareus' hands, than Argus' eyes, I'll sing thy obsequies with trumpet sounds, And write thy epitaph with blood and wounds.
Page 151 - Of airy Elves by Moonlight Shadows seen, The silver Token, and the circled Green...
Page 116 - Full many a gem of purest ray serene The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear: Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air. Some village Hampden that with dauntless breast The little tyrant of his fields withstood, Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood. Th...
Page 122 - Weel, since ye are welcome to Yule, up wi't Lightfoot, link it awa', boys ; Send for a fiddler, play up Foula Reel ; we'll skip as light as a maw, boys. Chorus. The Shaalds of Foula will pay for a...
Page 153 - ... Shaalds will pay for a', boys. The Awens are amang the cows in the byre — up wi't Lightfoot, link it awa', boys ; Link up the pot, and put on a gude fire ; we'll sit till cocks do craw, boys. The Shaalds of Foula, &c. Now for a light, and a pot of good beer — up wi't Lightfoot, link it awa', boys ; We'll drink a gude fishing against the next year, and the Shaalds will pay for a', boys.
Page 44 - I beg it may not be supposed that these verses express my ideas respecting the information and intelligence of the Ayrshire Bard with regard to this country. But the thought striking me, that had he been alive, he might, perhaps, have been amused with the novelty of a poetic essay from a Zetland Authoress ; my feeble attempt is made on the supposition of his giving the reins to his enlivening vein of raillery and burlesque. Well am I convinced, although I have attempted the Imitation, that he is...
Page 155 - Bedford, His Grace the Duke of Buccleugh, His Grace the Duke of Buccleugh, Her Grace the Duchess of Brecknock, Earl of Bernard, Viscountess Belfast, Lord, Eton Blizard, Sir Wm.
Page 44 - VERSES, IN HUMBLE IMITATION OF BURNS. I beg it may not be supposed, that these Verses express my ideas respecting the information and intelligence of the Ayrshire Bard with regard to this country. But the thought striking me, that...
Page 154 - As when a Traveller, a long Day past In painful Search of what he cannot find At Night's Approach, content with the next Cot, There ruminates awhile, his Labour lost; Then, chears his Heart with what his Fate affords, And chaunts his Sonnet to deceive the Time...
Page 22 - Whose shagged tops usurp the airy reign, Whose brinks abrupt a near approach forbid ; The dizzied head averts, the eye withdraws, It seems a danger even to dare a glance ; Yet do you in magnific language speak, And to the great Creator lift the soul.

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