Robert Burns and Other Essays & Sketches

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Gowans & Gray, Limited, 1926 - 244 páginas

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Página 247 - Though my perishing ranks should be strewed in their gore, Like ocean- weeds heaped on the surf-beaten shore, Lochiel, untainted by flight or by chains, While the kindling of life in his bosom remains, Shall victor exult, or in death be laid low, With his back to the field, and his feet to the foe...
Página 246 - And say besides, that in Aleppo once, Where a malignant and a turban'd Turk Beat a Venetian and traduced the state, I took by the throat the circumcised dog, And smote him, thus.
Página 115 - Seek out — less often sought than found— A soldier's grave, for thee the best; Then look around, and choose thy ground, And take thy rest.
Página 90 - Confronting them with a coeval mien. The moving moon and stars from east to west Circle before her in the sea of air ; Shadows and gleams glide round her solemn rest. Her subjects often gaze up to her there : The strong to drink new strength of iron endurance, The weak new terrors ; all, renewed assurance And confirmation of the old despair.
Página 38 - I hae been blythe wi' comrades dear ; I hae been merry drinking ; I hae been joyfu' gath'rin gear ; I hae been happy thinking : But a' the pleasures e'er I saw, Tho' three times doubl'd fairly, That happy night was worth them a', Amang the rigs o
Página 247 - But where is the iron-bound prisoner, where? For the red eye of battle is shut in despair. Say, mounts he the ocean-wave, banished, forlorn, Like a limb from his country cast bleeding and torn?
Página 89 - The sense that every struggle brings defeat Because Fate holds no prize to crown success ; That all the oracles are dumb or cheat Because they have no secret to express ; That none can pierce the vast black veil uncerta:n Because there is no light beyond the curtain ; That all is vanity and nothingness.
Página 25 - Poor splendid wings so frayed and soiled and torn! Poor kind wild eyes so dashed with light quick tears! Poor perfect voice, most blithe when most forlorn, That rings athwart the sea whence no man steers Like joy-bells crossed with death-bells in our ears! What far delight has cooled the fierce desire That like some ravenous bird was strong to tire On that frail flesh and soul consumed with flame, But left more sweet than roses to respire, Villon, our sad bad glad mad brother's name?
Página 245 - Nay, had she been true, If heaven would make me such another world Of one entire and perfect chrysolite, I'd not have sold her for it.
Página 40 - Had we never loved sae kindly, Had we never loved sae blindly, Never met, or never parted, We had ne'er been broken-hearted.

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