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Page 98 - The Solitary Reaper. Behold her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland Lass! Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently pass! Alone she cuts and binds the grain, And sings a melancholy strain; O listen! for the Vale profound Is overflowing with the sound.
Page 99 - ... tell me what she sings ?Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow For old, unhappy, far-off things, And battles long ago : Or is it some more humble lay, Familiar matter of to-day? Some natural sorrow, loss or pain, That has been, and may be again ? Whate'er the theme, the maiden sang As if her song could have no ending; I saw her singing at her work, And o'er the sickle bending; — I listened, motionless and still ; And, as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard...
Page 7 - You are old, Father William, the young man cried, And life must be hastening away ; You are cheerful, and love to converse upon death ! Now tell me the reason, I pray.
Page 7 - You are hale, Father William, a hearty old man ; Now tell me the reason, I pray. In the days of my youth...
Page 154 - Now, far, far behind him the green waters glide, And the cot of his forefathers blesses his eyes. The jessamine clambers in flower o'er the thatch, And the swallow sings sweet from her nest in the wall ; All trembling with transport he raises the latch, And the voices of loved ones reply to his call.
Page 211 - Shades of the dead ! have I not heard your voices Rise on the night-rolling breath of the gale!" Surely the soul of the hero rejoices, And rides on the wind o'er his own Highland vale.
Page 154 - ... MARINER'S DREAM IN slumbers of midnight the sailor-boy lay; His hammock swung loose at the sport of the wind; But watch-worn and weary, his cares flew away, And visions of happiness danced o'er his mind.
Page 202 - My comrades, thought I, will laugh at me for alarming them by shooting a pig. I had almost resolved to let it alone, when, just as it approached the thicket, I thought I observed it give an unusual spring.
Page 193 - My father urged me sair: my mother didna speak; But she look'd in my face till my heart was like to break: They gie'd him my hand, tho' my heart was in the sea; Sae auld Robin Gray he was gudeman to me. I hadna been a wife a week but only four, When mournfu...
Page 76 - ... nauseous creatures! so fantastically absurd in their dress! so monstrously unnatural in their paints! their hair cut short, and curled round their faces, and so loaded with powder, that it makes it look like white wool! and on their cheeks to their chins, unmercifully laid on a shining red japan, that glistens in a most flaming manner, so that they seem to have no resemblance to human faces.