#ScottishWriters
O YE whose cheek the tear of pity… Draw near with pious rev’rence, an… Here lie the loving husband’s dear… The tender father, and the gen’rou… The pitying heart that felt for hu…
O THOU unknown, Almighty Cause Of all my hope and fear! In whose dread presence, ere an ho… Perhaps I must appear! If I have wander’d in those paths
I CALL no Goddess to inspire my… A fabled Muse may suit a bard tha… Friend of my life! my ardent spiri… And all the tribute of my heart re… For boons accorded, goodness ever…
ASK why God made the gem so smal… And why so huge the granite?' Because God meant mankind should… That higher value on it.
I AM a keeper of the law In some sma’ points, altho’ not a’… Some people tell me gin I fa’, Ae way or ither, The breaking of ae point, tho’ sma…
Behind yon hills, where Lugar flo… 'Mang moors an’ mosses many, O, The wintry sun the day has clos’d, And I’ll awa to Nannie, O. The westlin wind blaws loud and sh…
OH, open the door, some pity to s… Oh, open the door to me, oh, Tho’ thou hast been false, I’ll e… Oh, open the door to me, oh. Cauld is the blast upon my pale ch…
Ye flowery banks o’ bonnie Doon, How can ye blume sae fair? How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae fu’ o’ care? Thou’ll break my heart, thou bonie…
SWEET are the banks’the banks… The spreading flowers are fair, And everything is blythe and glad, But I am fu’ o’ care. Thou’ll break my heart, thou bonie…
O MIRK, mirk is this midnight ho… And loud the tempest’s roar; A waefu’ wanderer seeks thy tower, Lord Gregory, ope thy door. An exile frae her father’s ha’,
1 It was a’ for our rightful k… 2 That we left fair Scotl… 3 It was a’ for our rightful k… 4 We e’er saw Irish land, 5 My dear,
I lang hae thought, my youthfu’ fr… A something to have sent you, Tho’ it should serve nae ither end Than just a kind momento: But how the subject—theme may gang…
THOU flatt’ring mark of friendsh… Still may thy pages call to mind The dear, the beauteous donor; Tho’ sweetly female ev’ry part, Yet such a head, and more the hear…
HERE lies a mock Marquis, whose… If ever he rise, it will be to be…
O Thou! whatever title suit thee— Auld Hornie, Satan, Nick, or Clo… Wha in yon cavern grim an’ sootie, Clos’d under hatches, Spairges about the brunstane cooti…