by Robert Burns
No terrors hast thou to the brave!
Thou strik’st the dull peasant — he sinks in the dark,
Nor saves e’en the wreck of a name; 10
Thou strik’st the young hero — a glorious mark;
He falls in the blaze of his fame!
In the field of proud honour — our swords in our hands,
Our King and our country to save;
While victory shines on Life’s last ebbing sands, — 15
O! who would not die with the brave!
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353.
Poem on Sensibility
SENSIBILITY, how charming,
Dearest Nancy, thou canst tell;
But distress, with horrors arming,
Thou alas! hast known too well!
Fairest flower, behold the lily 5
Blooming in the sunny ray:
Let the blast sweep o’er the valley,
See it prostrate in the clay.
Hear the wood lark charm the forest,
Telling o’er his little joys; 10
But alas! a prey the surest
To each pirate of the skies.
Dearly bought the hidden treasure
Finer feelings can bestow:
Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure 15
Thrill the deepest notes of woe.
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354.
Epigram — The Toad-eater
OF Lordly acquaintance you boast,
And the Dukes that you dined wi’ yestreen,
Yet an insect’s an insect at most,
Tho’ it crawl on the curl of a Queen!
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355.
Epigram — Divine Service at Lamington
AS cauld a wind as ever blew,
A cauld kirk, an in’t but few:
As cauld a minister’s e’er spak;
Ye’se a’ be het e’er I come back.
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356.
Epigram — The Keekin Glass
HOW daur ye ca’ me “Howlet-face”?
Ye blear-e’ed, withered spectre!
Ye only spied the keekin-glass,
An’ there ye saw your picture.
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357.
A Grace before Dinner
O THOU who kindly dost provide
For every creature’s want!
We bless Thee, God of Nature wide,
For all Thy goodness lent:
And if it please Thee, Heavenly Guide, 5
May never worse be sent;
But, whether granted, or denied,
Lord, bless us with content. Amen!
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358.
A Grace after Dinner
O THOU, in whom we live and move —
Who made the sea and shore;
Thy goodness constantly we prove,
And grateful would adore;
And, if it please Thee, Power above! 5
Still grant us, with such store,
The friend we trust, the fair we love —
And we desire no more. Amen!
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359.
O May, thy Morn (Song)
O MAY, thy morn was ne’er so sweet
As the mirk night o’ December!
For sparkling was the rosy wine,
And private was the chamber:
And dear was she I dare na name, 5
But I will aye remember:
And dear was she I dare na name,
But I will aye remember.
And here’s to them that, like oursel,
Can push about the jorum! 10
And here’s to them that wish us weel,
May a’ that’s guid watch o’er ‘em!
And here’s to them, we dare na tell,
The dearest o’ the quorum!
And here’s to them, we dare na tell, 15
The dearest o’ the quorum.
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360.
Ae fond Kiss (Song)
Tune— “Rory Dall’s Port.”
AE fond kiss, and then we sever;
Ae fareweel, alas, for ever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I’ll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I’ll wage thee.
Who shall say that Fortune grieves him, 5
While the star of hope she leaves him?
Me, nae cheerful twinkle lights me;
Dark despair around benights me.
I’ll ne’er blame my partial fancy,
Naething could resist my Nancy: 10
But to see her was to love her;
Love but her, and love for ever.
Had we never lov’d sae kindly,
Had we never lov’d sae blindly,
Never met — or never parted, 15
We had ne’er been broken-hearted.
Fare-thee-weel, thou first and fairest!
Fare-thee-weel, thou best and dearest!
Thine be ilka joy and treasure,
Peace, Enjoyment, Love and Pleasure! 20
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever!
Ae fareweel alas, for ever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I’ll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I’ll wage thee.
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361.
Behold the Hour, the Boat, arrive (Song)
BEHOLD the hour, the boat, arrive!
My dearest Nancy, O fareweel!
Severed frae thee, can I survive,
Frae thee whom I hae lov’d sae weel?
Endless and deep shall be my grief; 5
Nae ray of comfort shall I see,
But this most precious, dear belief,
That thou wilt still remember me!
Alang the solitary shore
Where flitting sea-fowl round me cry, 10
Across the rolling, dashing roar,
I’ll westward turn my wishful eye.
“Happy thou Indian grove,” I’ll say,
“Where now my Nancy’s path shall be!
While thro’ your sweets she holds her way, 15
O tell me, does she muse on me?”
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362.
Thou Gloomy December (Song)
ANCE mair I hail thee, thou gloomy December!
Ance mair I hail thee wi’ sorrow and care;
Sad was the parting thou makes me remember —
Parting wi’ Nancy, oh, ne’er to meet mair!
Fond lovers’ parting is sweet, painful pleasure, 5
Hope beaming mild on the soft parting hour;
But the dire feeling, O farewell for ever!
Anguish unmingled, and agony pure!
Wild as the winter now tearing the forest,
Till the last leaf o’ the summer is flown; 10
Such is the tempest has shaken my bosom,
Till my last hope and last comfort is gone.
Still as I hail thee, thou gloomy December,
Still shall I hail thee wi’ sorrow and care;
For sad was the parting thou makes me remember, 15
Parting wi’ Nancy, oh, ne’er to meet mair.
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363.
My Native Land sae far awa (Song)
O SAD and heavy, should I part,
But for her sake, sae far awa;
Unknowing what my way may thwart,<
br />
My native land sae far awa.
Thou that of a’ things Maker art, 5
That formed this Fair sae far awa,
Gie body strength, then I’ll ne’er start
At this my way sae far awa.
How true is love to pure desert!
Like mine for her sae far awa; 10
And nocht can heal my bosom’s smart,
While, oh, she is sae far awa!
Nane other love, nane other dart,
I feel but her’s sae far awa;
But fairer never touch’d a heart 15
Than her’s, the Fair, sae far awa.
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1792
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364.
I do confess thou art sae fair (Song)
Alteration of an Old Poem.
I DO confess thou art sae fair,
I was been o’er the lugs in luve,
Had I na found the slightest prayer
That lips could speak thy heart could muve.
I do confess thee sweet, but find 5
Thou art so thriftless o’ thy sweets,
Thy favours are the silly wind
That kisses ilka thing it meets.
See yonder rosebud, rich in dew,
Amang its native briers sae coy; 10
How sune it tines its scent and hue,
When pu’d and worn a common toy.
Sic fate ere lang shall thee betide,
Tho’ thou may gaily bloom awhile;
And sune thou shalt be thrown aside, 15
Like ony common weed and vile.
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365.
Lines on Fergusson, the Poet
ILL-FATED genius! Heaven-taught Fergusson!
What heart that feels and will not yield a tear,
To think Life’s sun did set e’er well begun
To shed its influence on thy bright career.
O why should truest Worth and Genius pine 5
Beneath the iron grasp of Want and Woe,
While titled knaves and idiot-Greatness shine
In all the splendour Fortune can bestow?
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366.
The weary Pund o’ Tow (Song)
Chorus. — The weary pund, the weary pund,
The weary pund o’ tow;
I think my wife will end her life,
Before she spin her tow.
I BOUGHT my wife a stane o’ lint, 5
As gude as e’er did grow,
And a’ that she has made o’ that
Is ae puir pund o’ tow.
The weary pund, &c.
There sat a bottle in a bole, 10
Beyont the ingle low;
And aye she took the tither souk,
To drouk the stourie tow.
The weary pund, &c.
Quoth I, For shame, ye dirty dame, 15
Gae spin your tap o’ tow!
She took the rock, and wi’ a knock,
She brak it o’er my pow.
The weary pund, &c.
At last her feet — I sang to see’t! 20
Gaed foremost o’er the knowe,
And or I wad anither jad,
I’ll wallop in a tow.
The weary pund, &c.
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367.
When she cam ben she bobbed (Song)
O WHEN she cam’ ben she bobbed fu’ law,
O when she cam’ ben she bobbed fu’ law,
And when she cam’ ben, she kiss’d Cockpen,
And syne denied she did it at a’.
And was na Cockpen right saucy witha’? 5
And was na Cockpen right saucy witha’?
In leaving the daughter of a lord,
And kissin’ a collier lassie an’ a’!
O never look down, my lassie, at a’,
O never look down, my lassie, at a’, 10
Thy lips are as sweet, and thy figure complete,
As the finest dame in castle or ha’.
Tho’ thou has nae silk, and holland sae sma’,
Tho’ thou has nae silk, and holland sae sma’,
Thy coat and thy sark are thy ain handiwark, 15
And lady Jean was never sae braw.
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368.
Scroggam, my dearie (Song)
THERE was a wife wonn’d in Cockpen,
Scroggam;
She brew’d gude ale for gentlemen;
Sing auld Cowl lay ye down by me,
Scroggam, my dearie, ruffum. 5
The gudewife’s dochter fell in a fever,
Scroggam;
The priest o’ the parish he fell in anither;
Sing auld Cowl lay ye down by me,
Scroggam, my dearie, ruffum. 10
They laid the twa i’ the bed thegither,
Scroggam;
That the heat o’ the tane might cool the tither;
Sing auld Cowl, lay ye down by me,
Scroggam, my dearie, ruffum. 15
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369.
My Collier Laddie (Song)
WHARE live ye, my bonie lass?
And tell me what they ca’ ye;
My name, she says, is mistress Jean,
And I follow the Collier laddie.
My name, she says, &c. 5
See you not yon hills and dales
The sun shines on sae brawlie;
They a’ are mine, and they shall be thine,
Gin ye’ll leave your Collier laddie.
They a’ are mine, &c. 10
Ye shall gang in gay attire,
Weel buskit up sae gaudy;
And ane to wait on every hand,
Gin ye’ll leave your Collier laddie.
And ane to wait, &c. 15
Tho’ ye had a’ the sun shines on,
And the earth conceals sae lowly,
I wad turn my back on you and it a’,
And embrace my Collier laddie.
I wad turn my back, &c. 20
I can win my five pennies in a day,
An’ spen’t at night fu’ brawlie:
And make my bed in the collier’s neuk,
And lie down wi’ my Collier laddie.
And make my bed, &c. 25
Love for love is the bargain for me,
Tho’ the wee cot-house should haud me;
And the warld before me to win my bread,
And fair fa’ my Collier laddie!
And the warld before me, &c. 30
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370.
Sic a Wife as Willie had (Song)
WILLIE WASTLE dwalt on Tweed,
The spot they ca’d it Linkumdoddie;
Willie was a wabster gude,
Could stown a clue wi’ ony body:
He had a wife was dour and din, 5
O Tinkler Maidgie was her mither;
Sic a wife as Willie had,
I wad na gie a button for her!
She has an e’e, she has but ane,
The cat has twa the very colour; 10
Five rusty teeth, forbye a stump,
A clapper tongue wad deave a miller:
A whiskin beard about her mou’,
Her nose and chin they threaten ither;
Sic a wife as Willie had, 15
I wadna gie a button for her!
She’s bow-hough’d, she’s hein-shin’d,
Ae limpin leg a hand-breed shorter;
She’s twisted right, she’s twisted left,
To balance fair in ilka quarter: 20
/> She has a lump upon her breast,
The twin o’ that upon her shouther;
Sic a wife as Willie had,
I wadna gie a button for her!
Auld baudrons by the ingle sits, 25
An’ wi’ her loof her face a-washin;
But Willie’s wife is nae sae trig,
She dights her grunzie wi’ a hushion;
Her walie nieves like midden-creels,
Her face wad fyle the Logan Water; 30
Sic a wife as Willie had,
I wadna gie a button for her!
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