Life and Works of Michael Bruce: Poet of Loch Leven, Author of the "Ode to the Cuckoo" and Other Poems; the Kinnesswood EditionJ. B. Fairgrieve, 1914 - 371 pages |
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Common terms and phrases
ADAM FERGUSON Alexander Bruce Arnot Arnot Tower ballad beauty Behold bloom Bruce's poems castle cheerful clan Ross Cleish clouds Cuckoo Daphnis dark David Pearson dear death earth Edinburgh fair fame fate father favourite flame flocks flowers Forest Mill friends green hand heard heart Heaven heroes hymn James Bruce John Birrell John Logan Kinnesswood Kinross Kinross-shire letter Leven light lines Loch Lochleven Logan Lomond Hill Lord lover maid Margaret White Michael Bruce mind morning mourn Muse native Nature's never night o'er Paraphrases peace plain poet poet's poetry Portmoak published rise robe Robertson round scene shade shepherd shine sing smile song soul Spring stood stream swain sweet sword tear thee thine thou thro throne trembling vale Varro vernal verse voice walk wander wild wood words writings written Yarrow young youth
Popular passages
Page 98 - I met a fool i' the forest, A motley fool ; — a miserable world : — As I do live by food, I met a fool ; Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun, And rail'd on lady Fortune in good terms, In good set terms, — and yet a motley fool. Good morrow, fool, quoth I : No, sir...
Page 169 - What time the daisy decks the green, Thy certain voice we hear; Hast thou a star to guide thy path, Or mark the rolling year? Delightful visitant ! with thee I hail the time of flowers, And hear the sound of music sweet, From birds among the bowers.
Page 171 - The schoolboy, wandering through the wood To pull the primrose gay, Starts, the new voice of spring to hear, And imitates thy lay. What time the pea puts on the bloom, Thou fliest thy vocal vale, An annual guest in other lands, Another spring to hail. Sweet bird ! thy bower is ever green, Thy sky is ever clear ; Thou hast no sorrow in thy song, No winter in thy year...
Page 44 - I see the muddy wave, the dreary shore, The sluggish streams that slowly creep below, Which mortals visit, and return no more. Farewell, ye blooming fields ! ye cheerful plains!
Page 350 - She guides the young with innocence In pleasure's path to tread ; A crown of glory she bestows Upon the hoary head.
Page 178 - And count the silent moments as they pass : The winged moments, whose unstaying speed No art can stop, or in their course arrest; Whose flight shall shortly count me with the dead, And lay me down in peace with them that rest.
Page 178 - Now, Spring returns : but not to me returns The vernal joy my better years have known ; Dim in my breast life's dying taper burns, And all the joys of life with health are flown.
Page 98 - Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, And after one hour more 'twill be eleven ; And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot ; And thereby hangs a tale.
Page 358 - O God of Bethel, by whose hand Thy people still are fed, Who through this weary pilgrimage Hast all our fathers led, 2 Our vows, our prayers, we now present Before Thy throne of grace; God of our fathers, be the God Of their succeeding race.
Page 175 - Tis past: the iron North has spent his rage; Stern Winter now resigns the lengthening day; The stormy bowlings of the winds assuage, And warm o'er ether western breezes play. Of genial heat and cheerful light the source, From southern climes, beneath another sky, The sun, returning, wheels his golden course ; Before his beams all noxious vapours fly. Far to the north grim Winter draws his train, To his own clime, to Zembla's frozen shore ; Where, throned on ice, he holds eternal reign; Where whirlwinds...