Life of Michael Bruce: Poet of Loch Leven

J.M. Dent, 1905 - 243 pagina's

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Pagina 73 - I see the muddy wave, the dreary shore, The sluggish streams that slowly creep below, Which mortals visit, and return no more. Farewell, ye blooming fields ! ye cheerful plains!
Pagina 105 - Tis but an hour ago, since it was nine ; 'And after one hour more, 'twill be eleven ; \And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, \And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot, j And thereby hangs a tale.
Pagina 105 - I met a fool i' the forest, A motley fool ; — a miserable world : — As I do live by food, I met a fool ; Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun, And rail'd on lady Fortune in good terms, In good set terms, — and yet a motley fool. Good morrow, fool, quoth I : No, sir...
Pagina 126 - Alas ! sweet bird ! not so my fate, Dark scowling skies I see Fast gathering round, and fraught with woe And wintry years to me.
Pagina 72 - Now, Spring returns : but not to me returns The vernal joy my better years have known ; Dim in my breast life's dying taper burns, And all the joys of life with health are flown.
Pagina 204 - THE peace of Heaven attend thy shade, My early friend, my favourite maid ! When life was new, companions gay, We hailed the morning of our day. Ah ! with what joy did I behold The flower of beauty fair unfold, And feared no storm to blast thy bloom Or bring thee to an early tomb. Untimely gone ! for ever fled The roses of the cheek so red ; Th' affection warm, the temper mild, The sweetness that in sorrow smiled.
Pagina 146 - I'll sleep in Yarrow. — The tear did never leave her cheek, No other youth became her marrow ; She found his body in the stream, And now with him she sleeps in Yarrow. J. Logan WILLY DROWNED IN YARROW Down in yon garden sweet and gay Where bonnie grows the lily, I heard a fair maid sighing say,
Pagina 8 - Wi' thee to reign, wi" thee to reign, The brightest jewel in my crown Wad be my queen, wad be my queen.
Pagina 232 - Our vows, our prayers, we now present Before Thy throne of grace; God of our fathers, be the God Of their succeeding race.
Pagina 67 - Thus sung the youth, amid unfertile wilds And nameless deserts, unpoetic ground! Far from his friends he...

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