The Works of Robert Burns: With His Life, 3±ÇCochrane and M'Crone, 1834 - 394ÆäÀÌÁö |
µµ¼ º»¹®¿¡¼
21°³ÀÇ °á°ú Áß 1 - 5°³
2 ÆäÀÌÁö
... kind , With open arms the stranger hail ; Their views enlarg'd , their lib'ral mind , Above the narrow , rural vale ; Attentive still to sorrow's wail , Or modest merit's silent claim ; And never may their sources fail ! And never envy ...
... kind , With open arms the stranger hail ; Their views enlarg'd , their lib'ral mind , Above the narrow , rural vale ; Attentive still to sorrow's wail , Or modest merit's silent claim ; And never may their sources fail ! And never envy ...
40 ÆäÀÌÁö
... kind ! " " To those who love us ! " - second fill But not to those whom we love ; Lest we love those who love not us ! - A third " to thee and me , love ! " ; To the beautiful Clarinda - the Mrs. Mac . whom he loved to toast in company ...
... kind ! " " To those who love us ! " - second fill But not to those whom we love ; Lest we love those who love not us ! - A third " to thee and me , love ! " ; To the beautiful Clarinda - the Mrs. Mac . whom he loved to toast in company ...
61 ÆäÀÌÁö
... Athole , of the first kind , I shall ever proudly boast ; what I owe to the last , so help me God in my hour of need ! I shall never forget . " ON SCARING SOME WATER - FOWL IN LOCH - TURIT THE POEMS OF ROBERT Burns . 61.
... Athole , of the first kind , I shall ever proudly boast ; what I owe to the last , so help me God in my hour of need ! I shall never forget . " ON SCARING SOME WATER - FOWL IN LOCH - TURIT THE POEMS OF ROBERT Burns . 61.
74 ÆäÀÌÁö
... kind . Reverence with lowly heart , Him whose wondrous work thou art ; Keep his goodness still in view , Thy trust - and thy example , too . Stranger , go ! Heaven be thy guide ! Quod , the Beadsman on Nithside . The kindness of my ...
... kind . Reverence with lowly heart , Him whose wondrous work thou art ; Keep his goodness still in view , Thy trust - and thy example , too . Stranger , go ! Heaven be thy guide ! Quod , the Beadsman on Nithside . The kindness of my ...
78 ÆäÀÌÁö
... kind , and wise , There solid self - enjoyment lies ; That foolish , selfish , faithless ways Lead to the wretched , vile , and base . Thus resign'd and quiet , creep To the bed of lasting sleep ; Sleep , whence thou shalt ne'er awake ...
... kind , and wise , There solid self - enjoyment lies ; That foolish , selfish , faithless ways Lead to the wretched , vile , and base . Thus resign'd and quiet , creep To the bed of lasting sleep ; Sleep , whence thou shalt ne'er awake ...
±âŸ ÃâÆǺ» - ¸ðµÎ º¸±â
ÀÚÁÖ ³ª¿À´Â ´Ü¾î ¹× ±¸¹®
Alloway Kirk amang auld ballad bard beautiful better blast blest bonnie braw Brig Bruar Burns carlin copy coram Craigdarroch dago dear death Dugald Stewart Dumfries e'en e'er Edinburgh Ellisland epistle fair fame fate Fintray frae Friar's-Carse Galloway gane Glencairn Glenriddel grace Graham happy heart Heron Highland honest honour Igo and ago Iram Jenny Geddes John John Barleycorn kirk lady lassie Lincluden lines Lord M'Murdo maun meikle mony mourn muse native ne'er never night Nith Nithside noble o'er Peg Nicholson pity pleasure poem Poet Poet's poetic poor pride rhyme Riddel roar Robert ROBERT BURNS says scene Scota Scotland Scots Scottish Shanter sing song soul stream sweet tears thee There's thou thro troggin verses weel Whigs whistle wild Willie's awa worth written wrote ye'll
Àαâ Àο뱸
170 ÆäÀÌÁö - 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...
205 ÆäÀÌÁö - The bridegroom may forget the bride Was made his wedded wife yestreen ; The monarch may forget the crown ' That on his head an hour has been ; The mother may forget the child That smiles sae sweetly on her knee ; But I'll remember thee, Glencairn, And a' that thou hast done for me ! " LINES, SENT TO SIR JOHN WHITEFORD, OF WHITEFORD, BART.
175 ÆäÀÌÁö - As open pussie's mortal foes, When, pop! she starts before their nose; As eager runs the market-crowd, When "Catch the thief!" resounds aloud; So Maggie runs, the witches follow, Wi' mony an eldritch skreich and hollo.
169 ÆäÀÌÁö - 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...
173 ÆäÀÌÁö - Thir breeks o' mine, my only pair, That ance were plush, o' guid blue hair, I wad hae gi'en them off my hurdies For ae blink o
172 ÆäÀÌÁö - Nae cotillon brent new frae France, But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels, Put life and mettle in their heels. A winnock-bunker in the east, There sat auld Nick in shape o...
174 ÆäÀÌÁö - Paisley harn, That while a lassie she had worn, In longitude tho' sorely scanty, It was her best, and she was vauntie. Ah ! little ken'd thy reverend grannie, That sark she coft for her wee Nannie, Wi...
38 ÆäÀÌÁö - ... in the whole strain of his bearing and conversation, a most thorough conviction, that, in the society of the most eminent men of his nation, he was exactly where he was entitled to be ; hardly deigned to flatter them by exhibiting even an occasional symptom of being flattered...
47 ÆäÀÌÁö - And wi' the lave ilk merry morn Could rank my rig and lass, Still shearing, and clearing The tither stocked raw, Wi' claivers, an' haivers, Wearing the day awa : Ev'n then a wish, (I mind its power,) A wish that to my latest hour Shall strongly heave my breast ; That I for poor auld Scotland's sake, Some usefu' plan, or beuk could make, Or sing a sang at least.
333 ÆäÀÌÁö - And turn'd him o'er and o'er. They filled up a darksome pit With water to the brim, They heaved in John Barleycorn, There let him sink or swim. They laid him out upon the floor, To work him farther woe, And still, as signs of life appear'd, They toss'd him to and fro. They wasted, o'er a scorching flame, The marrow of his bones ; But a miller us'd him worst of all, For he crush'd him between two stones.