Two Ancient Scottish Poems: The Gaberlunzie-man, and Christ's Kirk on the Green. With Notes and Observations

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J. Robertson, 1782 - Kings and rulers - 197 pages
 

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Page 61 - Fu' snug in a glen, where nane cou'd see, The twa, with kindly sport and glee, Cut frae a new cheese a whang : The priving was good, it pleas'd them baith, To lo'e her for ay, he gae her his aith. Quo' she, to leave thee I will be laith, My winsome Gaberlunzie-man. O kend my minny I were wi' you, Hl-fardly wad she crook her mou', Sic a poor man she'd never trow, After the Gaberlunzie-man.
Page 153 - The proxy vociferously proclaims, that it is not on his own account that he is thus treated, but on that of another person whose crime he names.
Page 130 - Flenders flew : Sae was the Will of God, trow I ; For had the Tree been trew, Men said that kend his Archery, He wald haif slain enow At Chryst-Kirk of the Grene that Day.
Page 46 - Since naething's awa', as we can learn, The kirn's to kirn, and milk to earn, Gae but the house, lass, and waken my bairn, And bid her come quickly ben.
Page 4 - ... mankind, as chance dictated, and bearing no other than a relation of convention to the object meant to be expressed by a particular sound. They were ignorant that the primaeval language spoken by Noah and his family, now subsists no where, and yet every where; that is to say, that at the dispersion of the builders of Babel, each hord, or tribe, carried the radical words of the original language into the several districts to which the providence of God conducted them; that these radical words...
Page 136 - His doublet was made of ledder, And saved him, At Christis Kirk of the green. A yaip young man that stude him neist Loused off a shot with ire ; He ettlit the bern in at the breist, The bolt flew owre the byre ; Ane cryit Fy ! he had slain a priest A mile...
Page 185 - And fresch men cam in and hail'd the dulis* And dang them down in dailis, t Bedene, I At Christis-Kirk on the grene that day.
Page 171 - Twa that war Herdmen of the Herd, On udder ran lyk Rams, Then followit Feymen, richt unaffeird, Bet on with Barrow trams. But quhair thair Gobs thay...
Page 162 - THE Town-Soutar in Grief was bowdin, His Wyfe hang at his Waift; His Body was in Elude all browdin, He graint lyk ony Ghaift. Her Glitterand Hair that was fae gowden, Sae hard in Lufe him...

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