Robert Burns: How to Know Him

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Bobbs-Merrill Company, 1917 - 332
 

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Strona 9 - November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh ; The short'ning winter-day is near a close ; The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh ; The black'ning trains o' craws to their repose : The toil-worn Cotter frae his labour goes, This night his weekly moil is at an end, Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes, Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend, And weary, o'er the moor, his course does hameward bend. At length his lonely cot appears in view, Beneath the shelter of an aged tree ; Th' expectant...
Strona 13 - With Amalek's ungracious progeny ; Or how the royal Bard did groaning lie Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire ; Or Job's pathetic plaint, and wailing cry ; Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire ; Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre.
Strona 179 - 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.
Strona 15 - And oh! may Heaven their simple lives prevent From Luxury's contagion weak and vile ! Then, howe'er crowns and coronets be rent, A virtuous populace may rise the while, And stand a wall of fire around their much-loved Isle.
Strona 234 - Now, butt an' ben, the Change-house fills, Wi' yill-caup Commentators: Here's crying out for bakes an' gills, An' there the pint-stowp clatters; While thick an' thrang. an' loud an' lang, Wi' logic, an' wi' Scripture, They raise a din, that in the end Is like to breed a rupture O
Strona 12 - The priest-like father reads the sacred page, How Abram was the friend of God on high; Or Moses bade eternal warfare wage With Amalek's ungracious progeny; Or how the royal bard did groaning lie Beneath the stroke of...
Strona 14 - Compared with this, how poor religion's pride, In all the pomp of method, and of art, When men display to congregations wide, Devotion's...
Strona 57 - I'll wage thee. Who shall say that fortune grieves him, While the star of hope she leaves him? Me, nae cheerfu' twinkle lights me ; Dark despair around benights me. I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy, Naething could resist my Nancy ; But to see her was to love her ; Love but her, and love for ever. Had we never lov'd sae kindly, Had we never lov'd sae blindly, Never met — or never parted, We had ne'er been broken-hearted.
Strona 261 - Nick, in shape o' beast; A towzie tyke, black, grim, and large, To gie them music was his charge: He screw'd the pipes and gart them skirl, Till roof and rafters a...
Strona 146 - John Anderson my jo, John, When we were first acquent, Your locks were like the raven, Your bonnie brow was brent; But now your brow is beld, John, Your locks are like the snow; But blessings on your frosty pow, John Anderson, my jo. John Anderson my jo, John, We clamb the hill thegither; And mony a canty day, John, We've had wi...

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