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" yet shall whet a sword • That thro' thy soul shall gae ! The weeping blood in woman's breast Was never known to thee ; Nor th' balm that draps on wounds of woe. Frae woman's pitying e'e."* "
The National quarterly review, ed. by E.I. Sears - الصفحة 292
المحررون: - 1872
عرض كامل - لمحة عن هذا الكتاب

Poems, Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect: By Robert Burns. In Two Volumes. ...

Robert Burns - 1793
...vengeance, yet, (hall whet a fword That thro' thy foul {hall gae : The weeping blood in woman's breaft Was never known to thee ; Nor th' balm that draps on wounds of woe Frae woman's pitying e'e. My fon! my fon 1 may kinder (tars Upon thy fortune fl-.ine ! And may thofc pkafures gild thy reign,...

Poems: Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect, المجلد 2

Robert Burns - 1797
...vengeance, yet, fhall whet a fword That thro' thy foul mail gae : The weeping blood in woman's breaft Was never known to thee ; Nor th' balm that draps on wounds of woe Frae woman's pitying e'e. Ma My My fon! my fon ! may kinder ftars Upon thy fortune mine : And may thofe pleafures gild thy reign,...

Poems, Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect: By Robert Burns. In Two Volumes. A ...

Robert Burns - 1798
...vengeance, yet, fliall whet a fword That thro' thy foul {hall gae : The weeping blood in woman's breaft Was never known to thee ; Nor th' balm that draps on wounds of woe Frae woman's pitying e'e, My fon ! my fon ! may kinder ftars Upon thy fortune mine : And may thofe pleafures gild thy reign,...

Poems, Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect, المجلد 2

Robert Burns - 1800
...fword That thro' thy foul mail gae : The weeping blood in woman's bread Was never known to thee ; STor th' balm that draps on wounds of woe Frae woman's pitying e'e. M 2 My My fon ! my fon ! may kinder ftars Upon thy fortune fhine : And may thofe pleafures gild thy...

The works of Robert Burns; with an account of his life, and a ..., المجلد 3

Robert Burns - 1806
...bands, And never ending care. But as for thee, thou false woman, My sister and my fae, Grim vengeance, yet, shall whet a sword That thro' thy soul shall...that draps on wounds of woe Frae woman's pitying e'e. My son! my son ! may kinder stars Upon thy fortune shine ; And may those pleasures gild thy reign,...

Effusions of love from Chatelar to Mary, queen of Scotland, tr. [or rather ...

William Henry Ireland - 1808
...bands, And never ending care. But as for thce, thou false woman. My sister and my fae, Grim vengeance yet shall whet a sword That thro' thy soul shall gae...breast Was never known to thee ; Nor th' balm that drops on wounds of woe Frae woman's pitying e'e. My son ! my sun ! may kinder stars Upon thy fortune...

Poems, المجلد 1

Robert Burns - 1811
...bands, And never-ending care. But as for thee, thou false woman, My sister and my fae, Grim vengeance yet shall whet a sword That thro' thy soul shall gae...that draps on wounds of woe Frae woman's pitying e'e. My son ! my son ! may kinder stars Upon thy fortune shine: And may those pleasures gild thy reign,...

A Critique on the Poems of Robert Burns

1812 - عدد الصفحات: 70
...for thee, thou false woman, My sister an' my fae, Grim vengeance yet shall whet a sword That through thy soul shall gae. The weeping blood in woman's breast Was never known to thee, Nor the balm that draps on wounds of woe, Frae woman's pitying e'e." 58 THE verses To Robert Graham of...

The Works of Robert Burns: With an Account of His Life , and a ..., المجلد 3

Robert Burns - 1813
...bands, And never ending care. But as for thee, thou false woman, My sister and my fae, Grim vengeance, yet, shall whet a sword That thro' thy soul shall...that draps on wounds of woe Frae woman's pitying e'e. 9 My son ! my son ! may kinder stars Upon thy fortune shine; And may those pleasures gild thy reign,...

The Works of Robert Burns: With an Account of His Life, and a ..., المجلد 3

Robert Burns - 1815
...-Aud never ending care POEMS; Rut as for ihtc, thou false woman, My sister and my fae, Grim vengeance, yet, shall whet a sword That thro' thy soul shall...breast Was never known to thee; Nor th* balm that drays on wounds of woe Frae woman's pitying e't. My son ! my son ! may kinder stars Upon thy fortune...




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