O my Luve’s like the melodie
That’s sweetly play’d in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I:
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry:
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.
And fare thee well, my only Luve
And fare thee well, a while!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho’ it were ten thousand mile.
We had forty bright sailors for our ship’s companie,And boldly from the eastward to the westward sailed we.We had not been sailing scarce days two or threeWhen our man from the masthead a sail he did see.She bore down upon us to see what we were,When from under her mizzen black colours she wore.My God…
Till full he dashes on the rocky mounds,Where, thro’ a shapeless breach, his stream resounds.As high in air the bursting torrents flow,As deep recoiling surges foam below,Prone down the rock the whitening sheet descends,And viewless Echo’s ear, astonished, rends.Dim-seen, through rising mists and ceaseless show’rs,The hoary cavern, wide surrounding, lours:Still thro’ the gap the struggling…
Shunn’d, hated, wrong’d, unpitied, unredrest,The mock’d quotation of the scorner’s jest!Ev’n the poor súpport of my wretched life,Snatched by the violence of legal strife.Oft grateful for my very daily breadTo those my family’s once large bounty fed;A welcome inmate at their homely fare,My griefs, my woes, my sighs, my tears they share:(Their vulgar souls unlike…
The peopled fold thy kindly care have found,The hornèd bull, tremendous, spurns the ground;The lordly lion has enough and more,The forest trembles at his very roar;Thou giv’st the ass his hide, the snail his shell,The puny wasp, victorious, guards his cell.Thy minions, kings defend, controul devour,In all th’ omnipotence of rule and power:Foxes and statesmen…
You shouldna paint at angels mair,But try and paint the devil.To paint an Angel’s kittle wark,Wi’ Nick, there’s little danger:You’ll easy draw a lang-kent face,But no sae weel a stranger.—R. B.
Yet sure I am, that known to TheeAre all Thy works below.Thy creature here before Thee stands,All wretched and distrest;Yet sure those ills that wring my soulObey Thy high behest.Sure, Thou, Almighty, canst not actFrom cruelty or wrath!O, free my weary eyes from tears,Or close them fast in death!But, if I must afflicted be,To suit…
