The British Poets: Including Translations ...

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Page 105 - Is man no more than this? Consider him well. Thou owest the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume. Ha! here's three on's are sophisticated! Thou art the thing itself; unaccommodated man is no more but such a poor, bare, forked animal as thou art.
Page 148 - Sweet smells the birk, green grows, green grows the grass, Yellow on Yarrow's bank the gowan, Fair hangs the apple frae the rock, Sweet the wave of Yarrow flowan. Flows Yarrow sweet ? as sweet, as sweet flows Tweed, As green its grass, its gowan yellow, As sweet smells on its braes the birk, The apple frae the rock as mellow.
Page 146 - Lang maun she weep, lang maun she, maun she weep, Lang maun she weep with dule and sorrow, And lang maun I nae mair weil be seen Pu'ing the birks on the Braes of Yarrow.
Page 149 - What can my barbarous, barbarous father do, But with his cruel rage pursue me ? My lover's blood is on thy spear, How canst thou, barbarous man, then woo me ? My happy sisters may be, may be proud ; With cruel and ungentle scoffin', May bid me seek on Yarrow Braes My lover nailed in his coffin.
Page 133 - I view thee; Till death o'ertake me in the chase, Still will my hopes pursue thee; Then when my tedious hours are past, Be this last blessing given, Low at thy feet to breathe my last, And die in sight of heaven.
Page 146 - B. Where gat ye that bonny bonny bride ? Where gat ye that winsome -marrow ? A. I gat her where I dare na weil be seen, Puing the birks on the Braes of Yarrow.
Page 19 - The peaceful dwellings where she fix'd her seat; The pleasing fields she wont of old to grace, Companion.- to an upright sober race ; When on the sunny hill, or verdant plain, Free and familiar with the sons of men, To crown the pleasures of the blameless feast, She uninvited came a welcome guest; Ere yet an age, grown rich in impious arts...
Page 105 - Why, thou wert better in thy grave than to answer with thy uncovered body this extremity of the skies. Is man no more than this? Consider him well. Thou owest the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume.
Page 146 - A. BUSK ye, busk ye, my bonny bonny bride, Busk ye, busk ye, my winsome marrow, Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny bonny bride, And think nae mair on the Braes of Yarrow.
Page 20 - Alone with virtue knows the pow'r to dwell. Nor need mankind despair these joys to know, The gift themselves may on themselves bestow. Soon, soon we might the precious blessing boast; But many passions must the blessing cost; Infernal malice, inly pining hate, And envy grieving at another's state. Revenge no more must in our...

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