The works of Robert Burns; with his life, by A. Cunningham, Volume 4

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Page 282 - Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt wi' the sun : I will luve thee still, my dear, While the sands o' life shall run. IV. And fare thee weel, my only luve ! And fare thee weel a-while ! And I will come again, my luve, Tho
Page 143 - helow : Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods ; Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods. My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here, My heart's in the Highlands a chasing the deer : Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe— My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go.
Page 156 - That sacred hour can I forget, Can I forget the hallowed grove, Where by the winding Ayr we met, To live one day of parting love ! Eternity will not efface Those records dear of transports past; Thy image at our last embrace ; Ah ! little thought we 'twas our last! III. Ayr, gurgling, kiss'd his pebbled shore, O'erhung with
Page 143 - My heart's in the Highlands a chasing the deer; Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe— My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go. Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North, The' birth-place of valour, the country of worth; Wherever I wander, wherever I rove, The hills of the Highlands for ever I love.
Page 135 - II. I see her in the dewy flowers, I see her sweet and fair : I hear her in the tunefu' birds, I hear her charm the air : There's not a bonnie flower that springs By fountain, shaw, or green, There's not a bonnie bird that sings, III.
Page 157 - Still o'er these scenes my mem'ry wakes, And fondly broods with miser care ! Time but th' impression stronger makes, As streams their channels deeper wear. My Mary, dear departed shade ! Where is thy place of blissful rest ? See'st thou thy lover lowly laid ? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast ? The story of Mary Campbell, and the history of this
Page 14 - prentice han' she try'd on man, An' then she made the lasses, O. Green grow the rashes, O ! Green grow the rashes, O ! The sweetest hours that e'er I spend Are spent amang the lasses, O. The " Green grow the Rashes " of our ancestors had both spirit and freedom.
Page 47 - I. THE gloomy night is gath'ring fast, Loud roars the wild inconstant blast; Yon murky cloud is foul with rain, I see it driving o'er the plain ; The hunter now has left the moor, The scatter'd coveys meet secure ; While here I wander, prest with care, Along the lonely hanks of Ayr.
Page 177 - VI. Yestreen at the valentine's dealing, My heart to my mou' gied a sten ; For thrice I drew ane without failing, And thrice it was written—Tam Glen. VII. The last Halloween I was waukin My droukit sark-sleeve, as ye ken ; His likeness cam up the house staukin, And the very gray breeks o
Page 140 - By night, by day, a-field, at hame, The thoughts o' thee my breast inflame ; And aye I muse and sing thy name— I only live to love thee. Tho' I were doom'd to wander on Beyond the sea, beyond the sun, Till my last weary sand was run ; Till then—and then I love thee. The

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