The Poetical Works of Robert Burns: Including Several Pieces Not Inserted in Dr. Currie's Edition : Exhibited Under a New Plan of Arrangement, and Preceded by a Life of the Author and a Complete Glossary, Volume 1

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Page 89 - Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme: How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed; How He who bore in Heaven the second name Had not on earth whereon to lay His head...
Page 128 - I'm truly sorry man's dominion. Has broken nature's social union, An' justifies that ill opinion, Which makes thee startle At me, thy poor earth-born companion, An...
Page 90 - O Scotia, my dear, my native soil, For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent, Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content...
Page 113 - The bridegroom may forget the bride Was made his wedded wife yestreen ; The monarch may forget the crown ' That on his head an hour has been ; The mother may forget the child That smiles sae sweetly on her knee ; But I'll remember thee, Glencairn, And a' that thou hast done for me ! " LINES, SENT TO SIR JOHN WHITEFORD, OF WHITEFORD, BART.
Page 148 - A set o' dull conceited hashes, Confuse their brains in college classes ! They gang in stirks, and come out asses, Plain truth to speak ; An' syne they think to climb Parnassus By dint o
Page 93 - mid renewing storms? Is it departing pangs my soul alarms? Or death's unlovely, dreary, dark abode? For guilt, for guilt, my terrors are in arms: I tremble to approach an angry God, And justly smart beneath His sin-avenging rod. Fain would I say: " Forgive my foul offence, " Fain promise never more to disobey; But, should my Author health again dispense, Again I might desert fair virtue's way; Again in folly's path might go astray; Again exalt the brute and sink the man; Then how should I for heavenly...
Page 118 - The golden hours, on angel wings, Flew o'er me and my dearie ; For dear to me, as light and life, Was my sweet Highland Mary. Wi' mony a vow, and lock'd embrace, Our parting was fu...
Page 130 - Unskilful he to note the card Of prudent Lore, Till billows rage, and gales blow hard, And whelm him o'er ! Such fate to suffering worth is...
Page 89 - Then kneeling down to Heaven's Eternal King The saint, the father, and the husband prays: Hope 'springs exulting on triumphant wing' That thus they all shall meet in future days: There ever bask in uncreated rays, No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear, Together hymning their Creator's praise, In such society, yet still more dear; While circling Time moves round in an eternal sphere.
Page 61 - Unacquainted with the necessary requisites for commencing poet by rule, he sings the sentiments and manners he felt and saw in himself and his rustic compeers around him, in his and their native language.

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