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Էջ 137 - Wha will be a traitor knave? Wha can fill a coward's grave? Wha sae base as be a slave? Let him turn and flee! Wha for Scotland's king and law Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Freeman stand or freeman fa', Let him follow me!
Էջ 139 - By oppression's woes and pains ! By your sons in servile chains ! We will drain our dearest veins, But they shall be free ! Lay the proud usurpers low ! Tyrants fall in every foe!
Էջ 97 - Tam ! hadst thou but been sae wise, As ta'en thy ain wife Kate's advice ! She tauld thee weel thou was a skellum, A blethering, blustering, drunken blellum ; That frae November till October, Ae market-day thou was nae sober ; That ilka melder, wi...
Էջ 123 - I aft hae kissed sae fondly ! And closed for aye the sparkling glance That dwelt on me sae kindly ; And mouldering now in silent dust That heart that lo'ed me dearly ! But still within my bosom's core Shall live my Highland Mary.
Էջ 122 - O' my sweet Highland Mary. How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk, How rich the hawthorn's blossom, As underneath their fragrant shade I clasp'd her to my bosom ! 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 f u...
Էջ 80 - My lov'd, my honour'd, much respected friend! No mercenary bard his homage pays; With honest pride, I scorn each selfish end, My dearest meed, a friend's esteem and praise: To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays, The lowly train in life's sequester'd scene, The native feelings strong, the guileless ways, What Aiken in a cottage would have been; Ah! tho' his worth unknown, far happier there I ween! November chill blaws loud wi...
Էջ 97 - Or catch'd wi' warlocks in the mirk, By Alloway's auld haunted kirk. Ah, gentle dames ! it gars me greet, To think how mony counsels sweet, How mony lengthen'd, sage advices, The husband frae the wife despises! But to our tale : Ae market night, Tam had got planted unco right; Fast by an ingle, bleezing finely, Wi...
Էջ 70 - tis He alone Decidedly can try us, He knows each chord its various tone, Each spring its various bias : Then at the balance let's be mute, We never can adjust it ; What's done we partly may compute, But know not what's resisted.
Էջ xxxi - Poesy was still a darling walk for my mind ; but it was only indulged in according to the humour of the hour. I had usually half a dozen or more pieces on hand ; I took up one or other, as it suited the momentary tone of the mind, and dismissed the work as it bordered on fatigue. My passions, when once lighted up, raged like so many devils, till they got vent in rhyme , and then the conning over my verses, like a spell, soothed all into quiet!
Էջ 21 - As cold waters to a thirsty soul, so is good news from a far country.