#Scots #XVIIICentury
The simple Bard, unbroke by rules… He pours the wild effusions of the… And if inspir’d 'tis Nature’s pow… Her’s all the melting thrill, and…
Though cruel Fate should bid us p… Far as the Pole and Line, Her dear idea round my heart Should tenderly entwine: Though mountains rise, and deserts…
Wee Willie Gray, and his leather… Peel a willow wand to be him boots… The rose upon the breir will be hi… The rose upon the breir will be hi… Wee Willie Gray, and his leather…
The Couper o’ Cuddy came here awa… He ca’d the girrs out o’er us a’; An’ our gudewife has gotten a ca’, That’s anger’d the silly gudeman… We’ll hide the Couper behint the…
WHY am I loth to leave this eart… Have I so found it full of pleasi… Some drops of joy with draughts of… Some gleams of sunshine 'mid renew… Is it departing pangs my soul alar…
A ROSE-BUD by my early walk, Adown a corn-enclosed bawk, Sae gently bent its thorny stalk, All on a dewy morning. Ere twice the shades o’ dawn are f…
MY girl she’s airy, she’s buxom a… Her breath is as sweet as the blos… A touch of her lips it ravishes qu… She’s always good natur’d, good hu… She dances, she glances, she smile…
Lament in rhyme, lament in prose, Wi’ saut tears tricklin down your… Our bardie’s fate is at a close, Past a’ remead! The last, sad cape—stane o’ his wo…
CURSE on ungrateful man, that ca… And yet can starve the author of t… O thou, my elder brother in misfor… By far my elder brother in the Mu… With tears I pity thy unhappy fat…
WHEN Guilford good our pilot sto… An’ did our hellim thraw, man, Ae night, at tea, began a plea, Within America, man: Then up they gat the maskin-pat,
O, were my love yon lilac fair Wi’ purple blossoms to the spring, And I a bird to shelter there, When wearied on my little wing. How I wad mourn when it was torn
O my Luve is like a red, red rose That’s newly sprung in June; O my Luve is like the melody That’s sweetly played in tune. So fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
John Anderson my jo, John, When we were first acquent, Your locks were like the raven, Your bonie brow was brent; But now your brow is beld, John,
HOW cold is that bosom which foll… How pale is that cheek where the r… How silent that tongue which the e… How dull is that ear which to flat… If sorrow and anguish their exit a…
O THOU who kindly dost provide For every creature’s want! We bless Thee, God of Nature wid… For all Thy goodness lent: And if it please Thee, Heavenly…
