The works of Allen Ramsay. With life of the author by G. Chalmers; an essay on his genius and writings by lord Woodhouselee, and appendix, Volume 3


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Pagina 221 - The water fa's, and maks a singand din : A pool breast-deep, beneath as clear as glass, Kisses with easy whirles the bord'ring grass. We'll end our washing while the morning's cool ; And when the day grows het, we'll to the pool, There wash oursells ; 'tis healthfu' now in May, And sweetly cauler on sae warm a day.
Pagina 221 - Or this other, a perfect domestic picture ? — " While Peggy laces up her bosom fair, Wi' a blue snood Jenny binds up her hair ; Glaud by a morning ingle takes a beek, The rising sun shines motty through the reek ; .A pipe his mouth, the lasses please his een, And now and then a joke maun intervene.
Pagina 203 - ... and closes on each side of the way, wherein are gentlemen's houses, much fairer than the buildings in the High Street, for in the High Street...
Pagina 78 - I own for me I never heard a better jest. Pope well describ'd an ombre game, And king revenging captive queen ; He merits, but had won more fame, If author of your
Pagina 328 - Bards wrote, we had not yet made Use of imported Trimming upon our Cloaths, nor of foreign Embroidery in our Writings. Their Poetry is the Product of their own Country, not pilfered and spoiled in the Transportation from abroad : Their Images are native, and their Landskips domestick ; copied from those Fields and Meadows we every Day behold.
Pagina 327 - When these good old Bards wrote, we had not yet made use of imported trimming upon our cloaths, nor of foreign embroidery in our writings.
Pagina 328 - The morning rises (in the Poet's description) as she does in the Scottish horizon. We are not carried to Greece or Italy for a shade, a stream, or a breeze. The groves rise in our own valleys; the rivers flow from our own fountains, and the winds blow upon our own hills.
Pagina 328 - Description) as she does in the Scottish Horizon. We are not carried to Greece or Italy for a Shade, a Stream or a Breeze. The Groves rise in our own Valleys; the Rivers flow from our own Fountains, and the Winds blow upon our own Hills. I find not Fault with those Things, as they are in Greece or Italy. But with a Northern Poet for fetching his Materials from these Places, in a Poem, of which his own Country is the Scene; as our Hymners to the Spring and Makers of Pastorals frequently do.
Pagina 328 - There is nothing can be heard more silly than one's expressing his Ignorance of his native Language ; yet such there are, who can vaunt of acquiring a tolerable Perfection in the French or Italian Tongues, if they have been a Forthnight in Paris or a Month in Rome: But shew them the most elegant Thoughts in a Scots Dress, they as disdainfully as stupidly condemn it as barbarous.
Pagina 193 - Gae spread my fame, And fix me an immortal name ; Ages to come shall thee revive, And gar thee with new honours live. The future critics, I foresee. Shall have their notes on notes on thee ; The wits unborn shall beauties find, That never entered in my mind.

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