#Scots #XVIIICentury
Fareweel to a’ our Scottish fame, Fareweel our ancient glory, Fareweel ev’n to the Scottish nam… Sae fam’d in martial story. Now Sark rins o’er the Solway san…
HEALTH to the Maxwell’s vetera… Health, aye unsour’d by care or gr… Inspir’d, I turn’d Fate’s sibyl l… This natal morn, I see thy life is stuff o’ prief,
Sad bird of night, what sorrows ca… To vent thy plaints thus in the mi… Is it some blast that gathers in t… Threatening to nip the verdure of… Is it, sad oul, that Autumn strip…
My curse upon your venom’d stang, That shoots my tortur’d gums alang… And thro’ my lugs gies mony a twan… Wi’ gnawing vengeance; Tearing my nerves wi’ bitter pang,
O LEAVE novels, 1 ye Mauchline… Ye’re safer at your spinning-wheel… Such witching books are baited hoo… For rakish rooks, like Rob Mossgi… Your fine Tom Jones and Grandiso…
To Mary In Heaven Thou lingering star, with less’nin… That lov’st to greet the early mor… Again thou usherast in the day My Mary from my soul was torn.
Here awa’, there awa’, wandering,… Here awa’, there awa’, haud awa’ h… Come to my bosom, my ae only deary… Tell me thou bring’st me my Willi… Loud tho’ the winter blew cauld on…
My heart is a—breaking, dear Titt… Some counsel unto me come len’; To anger them a’ is a pity, But what will I do wi’ Tam Glen? I’m thinking, wi’ sic a braw fello…
HONEST 1 Will to Heaven’s away And mony shall lament him; His fau’ts they a’ in Latin lay, In English nane e’er kent them.
O THOU Great Being! what Thou… Surpasses me to know; Yet sure I am, that known to Thee Are all Thy works below. Thy creature here before Thee sta…
1 Is there, for honest poverty… 2 That hings his head, an’… 3 The coward slave, we pass hi… 4 We dare be poor for a’ t… 5 For a’ that, an’ a’…
O were I on Parnassus hill; Or had o’ Helicon my fill; That I might catch poetic skill, To sing how dear I love thee. But Nith maun be my Muses well,
If ye gae up to yon hill—tap, Ye’ll there see bonie Peggy; She kens her father is a laird, And she forsooth’s a leddy. There Sophy tight, a lassie brigh…
When Januar’ wind was blawing cau… As to the north I took my way, The mirksome night did me enfauld, I knew na whare to lodge till day: By my gude luck a maid I met,
LORD, we thank, and thee adore, For temporal gifts we little merit… At present we will ask no more— Let William Hislop give the spiri…