Poems, Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect, Volume 2

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W. Creech, 1798

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Page 15 - And decks the lily fair in flow'ry pride, Would, in the way His wisdom sees the best, For them and for their little ones provide; But, chiefly, in their hearts with Grace Divine preside.
Page 16 - An honest man's the noblest work of God ; " And certes, in fair virtue's heavenly road, The cottage leaves the palace far behind ; What is a lordling's pomp ? — a cumbrous load, Disguising oft the wretch of human kind, Studied in arts of hell, in wickedness refined...
Page 197 - O'er a' the ills o' life victorious! But pleasures are like poppies spread, You seize the flow'r, its bloom is shed; Or like the snow falls in the river, A moment white — then melts for ever; Or like the borealis race That flit ere you can point their place; Or like the rainbow's lovely form Evanishing amid the storm. Nae man can tether time or tide; The hour approaches Tam maun ride; That hour, o...
Page 49 - LANG hae thought, my youthfu' friend, A something to have sent you, Tho' it should serve nae ither end Than just a kind memento ; But how the subject theme may gang, Let time and chance determine ; Perhaps, it may turn out a sang, Perhaps, turn out a sermon.
Page 200 - Wi' his last gasp his gab did gape; Five tomahawks, wi' bluid red-rusted; Five scimitars, wi' murder crusted; A garter, which a babe had strangled; A knife, a father's throat had mangled, Whom his ain son o...
Page 53 - When ranting round in pleasure's ring, Religion may be blinded ; Or if she gie a random sting, It may be little minded ; But when on life we're tempest-driv'n, A conscience but a canker — A correspondence fix'd wi' Heav'n Is sure a noble anchor!
Page 13 - Then kneeling down to Heaven's Eternal King, The saint, the father, and the husband prays; Hope 'springs exulting on triumphant wing,' That thus they all shall meet in future days, There ever bask in uncreated rays, No more to sigh or shed the bitter tear, Together hymning their Creator's praise, In such society, yet still more dear, While circling Time moves round...
Page 198 - That night, a child might understand, The Deil had business on his hand. Weel mounted on his grey mare, Meg, A better never lifted leg, Tam skelpit on thro' dub and mire, Despising wind, and rain, and fire; Whiles holding fast his guid blue bonnet, Whiles crooning o'er some auld Scots sonnet; Whiles glow'ring round wi' prudent cares Lest bogles catch him unawares: Kirk-Alloway was drawing nigh, Whare ghaists and houlets nightly cry.
Page 52 - But, och ! it hardens a' within, And petrifies the feeling ! To catch dame Fortune's golden smile, Assiduous wait upon her; And gather gear by ev'ry wile That's justified by honor; Not for to hide it in a hedge, Nor for a train attendant; But for the glorious privilege Of being independent.
Page 217 - Groat's ; If there's a hole in a* your coats, I rede you tent it : A chield's amang you, taking notes, And, faith, he'll prent it.

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