Scottish Poetry; Drummond of Hawthornden to Fergusson: Lectures Delivered in the University of Glasgow |
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Scottish Poetry; Drummond of Hawthornden to Fergusson; Lectures Delivered in ... George Brisbane Douglas No preview available - 2015 |
Scottish Poetry: Drummond of Hawthornden to Fergusson, Lectures Delivered in ... George Douglas No preview available - 2015 |
Scottish Poetry Drummond of Hawthornden to Fergusson George Douglas,Glasgow James Maclehose and Sons Publish No preview available - 2019 |
Common terms and phrases
Alexander Ross Allan Ramsay Armstrong Athelstaneford auld Beattie's beauty Ben Jonson Blair born breath Castle of Indolence character death delight didactic Douglas dramatic Drummond of Hawthornden Dunbar Edinburgh Eighteenth Century English poetry fair fauld Fergusson and Burns fouks frae friends genius Gentle Shepherd heart heaven Helenore Home James James Thomson John Home Jonson Kirk Lady Grisell less literary literature live Madrigals Muse native Nature never night o'er pastoral Peggy perhaps play Poems Amorous poet poetic prose pure quoth Ramsay's remains Robert Robert Fergusson Rule Britannia SANDY scarcely Scotch poetry Scotland Scots Scotsmen Scottish literature Scottish Poetry Seasons sing song Sonnets Southdean speaks spirit stream style success sweet sympathy temper thee things Thom Thomson thou thought tion true Vernacular verse Vision wauking whilst WILLIE Wordsworth writing wrote
Popular passages
Page 27 - He is a great lover and praiser of himself; a contemner and scorner of others; given rather to lose a friend than a jest; jealous of every word and action of those about him (especially after drink, which is one of the elements in which he liveth...
Page 62 - Wisely regardful of the embroiling sky, In joyless fields and thorny thickets, leaves His shivering mates, and pays to trusted man His annual visit. Half afraid, he first Against the window beats; then, brisk, alights On the warm hearth; then, hopping o'er the floor, Eyes all the smiling family askance, And pecks, and starts, and wonders where he is; Till more familiar grown, the table-crumbs Attract his slender feet.
Page 64 - Paints in the matchless harmony of song. Or catch thyself the landscape, gliding swift Athwart Imagination's vivid eye : Or, by the vocal woods and waters lull'd...
Page 103 - Shall I be left forgotten in the dust, When Fate, relenting, lets the flower revive ? Shall Nature's voice, to man alone unjust, Bid him, though doom'd to perish, hope to live ? Is it for this fair Virtue oft must strive With disappointment, penury, and pain ? No : Heaven's immortal Spring shall yet arrive, And man's majestic beauty bloom again, Bright through th' eternal year of Love's triumphant reign.
Page 63 - With eye attentive mark the springing game. Straight as above the surface of the flood They wanton rise, or urged by hunger leap, Then fix, with gentle twitch, the barbed hook: Some lightly tossing to the grassy bank, And to the shelving shore slow-dragging some, With various hand proportion'd to their force.
Page 18 - To his Lute MY lute, be as thou wast when thou didst grow With thy green mother in some shady grove, When immelodious winds but made thee move, And birds on thee their ramage did bestow.
Page 70 - Of mighty waters : now th' inflated wave Straining they scale, and now impetuous shoot Into the secret chambers of the deep, The wintry Baltic thundering o'er their head.
Page 62 - There throw, nice-judging, the delusive fly : And, as you lead it round in artful curve, With eye attentive mark the springing game.
Page 64 - The cavern'd bank, his old secure abode; And flies aloft, and flounces round the pool, Indignant of the guile. With yielding hand, That feels him still, yet to his furious course Gives way, you, now retiring, following now Across the stream, exhaust his idle rage; Till floating broad upon his breathless side, And to his fate abandon'd, to the shore You gaily drag your unresisting prize.
Page 102 - And be it so. Let those deplore their doom. Whose hope still grovels in this dark sojourn : But lofty souls, who look beyond the tomb, Can smile at Fate, and wonder how they mourn. Shall Spring to these sad scenes no more return ? Is yonder wave the Sun's eternal bed ? Soon shall the orient with new lustre burn, And Spring shall soon her vital influence shed. Again attune the grove, again adorn the mead.