by Homer
We’d make, with social wing, 30
Our annual visit o’er the globe,
Companions of the Spring.
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
George Halket
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
Logie o’ Buchan
George Halket (d. 1756)
O LOGIE o’ Buchan, O Logie the laird!
They ha’e ta’en awa’ Jamie, that delved in the yaird,
Wha played on the pipe and the viol sae sma’,
They ha’e ta’en awa’ Jamie, the flower o’ them a’!
He said, ‘Think na lang, lassie, though I gang awa’!’ 5
He said, ‘Think na lang, lassie, though I gang awa’!’
For simmer is coming, cauld winter’s awa’,
And I’ll come and see thee in spite o’ them a’!’
Though Sandy has ousen, has gear, and has kye,
A house and a hadden, and siller forbye; 10
Yet I’d tak’ mine ain lad, wi’ his staff in his hand,
Before I’d ha’e him, wi’ the houses and land.
My daddy looks sulky, my minnie looks sour;
They frown upon Jamie because he is poor;
Though I lo’e them as weel as a dochter should do, 15
They’re nae hauf sae dear to me, Jamie, as you.
I sit on my creepie, I spin at my wheel,
And think on the laddie that lo’ed me sae weel:
He had but a sixpence, he brak’ it in twa,
And gi’ed me the hauf o’t when he gaed awa’. 20
Then haste ye back, Jamie, and bide na awa’!
Then haste ye back, Jamie, and bide na awa’!
The simmer is coming, cauld winter’s awa’,
And ye’ll come and see me in spite o’ them a’.
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
William Hamilton of Bangour
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
The Braes of Yarrow
William Hamilton of Bangour (1704–1754)
‘BUSK ye, busk ye, my bonnie, bonnie bride!
Busk ye, busk ye, my winsome marrow!
Busk ye, busk ye, my bonnie, bonnie bride!
And think nae mair on the braes of Yarrow!’
‘Where got ye that bonnie, bonnie bride? 5
Where got ye that winsome marrow?’
‘I got her where I durst not well be seen —
Pu’ing the birks on the braes of Yarrow.’
‘Weep not, weep not, my bonnie, bonnie bride!
Weep not, weep not, my winsome marrow! 10
Nor let thy heart lament to leave
Pu’ing the birks on the braes of Yarrow.’
‘Why does she weep, thy bonnie, bonnie bride?
Why does she weep, thy winsome marrow?
And why dare ye nae mair weel be seen 15
Pu’ing the birks on the braes of Yarrow?’
‘Lang maun she weep, lang maun she, maun she weep,
Lang maun she weep with dule and sorrow;
And lang maun I nae weel be seen
Pu’ing the birks on the braes of Yarrow. 20
‘For she has tint her lover, lover dear —
Her lover dear, the cause of sorrow;
And I have slain the comeliest swain
That ever pu’ed birks on the braes of Yarrow.
‘Why runs thy stream O Yarrow, Yarrow, reid? 25
Why on thy braes is heard the voice of sorrow?
And why yon melancholious weeds
Hung on the bonnie birks of Yarrow.
‘What’s yonder floats on the rueful, rueful flood?
What’s yonder floats? O dule and sorrow! 30
’Tis he, the comely swain I slew
Upon the duleful braes of Yarrow.
‘Wash, O wash his wounds, his wounds in tears,
His wounds in tears of dule and sorrow;
And wrap his limbs in mourning weeds, 35
And lay him on the braes of Yarrow.
‘Then build, then build, ye sisters, sisters sad,
Ye sisters sad, his tomb with sorrow:
And weep around, in woeful wise,
His hapless fate on the braes of Yarrow. 40
‘Curse ye, curse ye, his useless, useless shield,
My arm that wrought the deed of sorrow,
The fatal spear that pierced his breast —
His comely breast on the braes of Yarrow!
‘Did I not warn thee not to, not to love, 45
And warn from fight? But, to my sorrow,
Too rashly bold, a stronger arm
Thou met’st, and fell on the braes of Yarrow.’
‘Sweet smells the birk, green grows, green grows the grass,
Yellow on Yarrow’s braes the gowan; 50
Fair hangs the apple frae the rock,
Sweet the wave of Yarrow flowing!’
‘Flows Yarrow sweet? As sweet, as sweet flows Tweed;
As green its grass, its gowan as yellow;
As sweet smells on its braes the birk, 55
The apple from its rocks as mellow.
‘Fair was thy love, fair, fair indeed thy love;
In flowery bands thou didst him fetter:
Though he was fair, and well beloved again
Than me, he never loved thee better. 60
‘Busk ye then, busk, my bonnie, bonnie bride!
Busk, ye, busk ye, my winsome marrow!
Busk ye, and lo’e me on the banks of Tweed,
And think nae mair on the braes of Yarrow!’
‘How can I busk, a bonnie, bonnie bride? 65
How can I busk, a winsome marrow?
How lo’e him on the banks of Tweed
That slew my love on the braes of Yarrow!
‘O Yarrow fields, may never, never rain
Nor dew thy tender blossoms cover! 70
For there was basely slain my love —
My love as he had not been a lover.
‘The boy put on his robes, his robes of green,
His purple vest— ’twas my ain sewing:
Ah, wretched me! I little, little knew 75
He was in these to meet his ruin!
‘The boy took out his milk-white, milk-white steed,
Unheedful of my dule and sorrow;
But ere the to-fall of the night
He lay a corpse on the braes of Yarrow. 80
‘Much I rejoiced, that woeful, woeful day;
I sang, my voice the woods returning;
But lang ere night the spear was flown
That slew my love and left me mourning.
‘What can my barbarous, barbarous father do, 85
But with his cruel rage pursue me?
My lover’s blood is on thy spear;
How canst thou, barbarous man, then woo me?
‘My happy sisters may be, may be proud —
With cruel and ungentle scoffin’ 90
May bid me seek, on Yarrow’s braes,
My lover nailed in his coffin.
‘My brother Douglas may upbraid,
And strive with threat’ning words to move me:
My lover’s blood is on thy spear, 95
How canst thou ever bid me love thee?
‘Yes, yes, prepare the bed, the bed of love!
With bridal sheets my body cover!
Unbar, ye bridal maids, the door;
Let in the expected husband lover! 100
‘But who the expected husband, husband is?
His hands, methinks, are bathed in slaughter.
Ah me! what ghastly spectre’s yon,
Comes in his pale shroud bleeding after?
‘Pale as he is, here lay him, lay him down; 105
O lay his cold head on my pillow:
Take
aff, take aff these bridal weeds,
And crown my careful head with willow.
‘Pale though thou art, yet best, yet best beloved!
Oh! could my warmth to life restore thee, 110
Ye’d lie all night between my breasts!
No youth lay ever there before thee.
‘Pale, pale indeed! O lovely, lovely youth!
Forgive, forgive so foul a slaughter;
And lie all night between my breasts! 115
No youth shall ever lie there after.’
Return, return, O mournful, mournful bride!
Return, and dry thy useless sorrow!
Thy lover heeds nought of thy sighs —
He lies a corpse on the braes of Yarrow.” 120
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
Hector MacNeil
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
I Lo’ed Ne’er a Laddie but Ane
Hector MacNeil (1746–1818)
I LO’ED ne’er a laddie but ane,
He lo’es na a lassie but me;
He’s willing to mak’ me his ain,
And his ain I am willing to be.
He coft me a rokelay o’ blue, 5
And a pair o’ mittens o’ green;
He vowed that he’d ever be true,
And I plighted my troth yestreen.
Let ithers brag weel o’ their gear,
Their land and their lordly degree; 10
I carena for aught but my dear,
For he’s ilka thing lordly to me.
His words are sae sugared, sae sweet,
His sense drives ilk fear far awa’;
I listen, puir fool, and I greet, 15
Yet how sweet are the tears as they fa’!
‘Dear lassie,’ he cries wi’ a jeer,
‘Ne’er heed what the auld anes will say:
Though we’ve little to brag o’, ne’er fear,
What’s gowd to a heart that is wae? 20
Our laird has baith honours and wealth,
Yet see how he’s dwining wi’ care;
Now we, though we’ve naething but health,
Are cantie and leal evermair.
‘O Menie, the heart that is true 25
Has something mair costly than gear;
Ilk e’en it has naething to rue,
Ilk morn it has naething to fear.
Ye warldlings, gae hoard up your store,
And tremble for fear aught ye tyne; 30
Guard your treasures wi’ lock, bar, and door,
While here in my arms I lock mine!’
He ends wi’ a kiss and a smile —
Wae’s me, can I tak’ it amiss?
My laddie’s unpractised in guile, 35
He’s free aye to daut and to kiss.
Ye lasses wha’ lo’e to torment
Your wooers wi’ fause scorn and strife,
Play your pranks; I ha’e gi’en my consent,
And this night I am Jamie’s for life. 40
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
Come Under My Plaidie
Hector MacNeil (1746–1818)
‘COME under my plaidie, the night’s gaun to fa’;
Come in frae the cauld blast, the drift, and the snaw:
Come under my plaidie, and sit down beside me,
There’s room in’t, dear lassie, believe me, for twa.
Come under my plaidie, and sit down beside me, 5
I’ll hap ye frae every cauld blast that can blaw:
Oh, come under my plaidie, and sit down beside me!
There’s room in’t, dear lassie, believe me, for twa.’
‘Gae ‘wa wi’ your plaidie, auld Donald, gae ‘wa!
I fearna the cauld blast, the drift, nor the snaw; 10
Gae ‘wa wi’ your plaidie; I’ll no sit beside ye,
Ye may be a gutcher, auld Donald, gae ‘wa.
I’m gaun to meet Johnnie — he’s young and he’s bonnie;
He’s been at Meg’s bridal, fu’ trig and fu’ braw:
Oh, nane dances sae lightly, sae gracefu’, sae tightly; 15
His cheek’s like the new rose, his brow’s like the snaw.’
‘Dear Marion, let that flee stick fast to the wa’;
Your Jock’s but a gowk, and has naething ava;
The hale o’ his pack he has now on his back:
He’s thretty, and I am but threescore and twa. 20
Be frank now and kindly: I’ll busk ye aye finely,
To kirk or to market there’ll few gang sae braw;
A bien house to bide in, a chaise for to ride in,
And flunkies to ‘tend ye as aft as ye ca’.’
‘My father’s aye tauld me, my mither an a’, 25
Ye’d mak’ a gude husband, and keep me aye braw:
It’s true I lo’e Johnnie — he’s gude and he’s bonnie,
But, wae’s me! ye ken he has naething ava.
I ha’e little tocher: you’ve made a good offer:
I’m now mair than twenty — my time is but sma’; 30
Sae, gi’e me your plaidie, I’ll creep in beside ye,
I thocht ye’d been aulder than threescore and twa.’
She crap in ayont him, aside the stane wa’.
Where Johnnie was list’nin, and heard her tell a’;
The day was appointed: his proud heart it dunted, 35
And strack ‘gainst his side as if bursting in twa.
He wandered hame weary: the night it was dreary;
And, thowless, he tint his gate ‘mang the deep snaw:
The owlet was screamin’; while Johnnie cried, ‘Women
Wad marry Auld Nick if he’d keep them aye braw!’ 40
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
Sir William Jones
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
An Ode
In Imitation of Alcaeus
Sir William Jones (1746 — 1794)
WHAT constitutes a State?
Not high-raised battlement or laboured mound,
Thick wall or moated gate;
Not cities proud with spires and turrets crowned;
Not bays and broad-armed ports, 5
Where, laughing at the storm, rich navies ride;
Not starred and spangled courts,
Where low-browed baseness wafts perfume to pride.
No: — men, high-minded men,
With powers as far above dull brutes endued 10
In forest, brake, or den,
As beasts excel cold rocks and brambles rude;
Men, who their duties know,
But know their rights, and, knowing, dare maintain,
Prevent the long-aimed blow, 15
And crush the tyrant while they rend the chain:
These constitute a State,
And sovereign Law, that State’s collected will,
O’er thrones and globes elate,
Sits Empress, crowning good, repressing ill. 20
Smit by her sacred frown,
The fiend, Dissension, like a vapour sinks,
And e’en the all-dazzling crown
Hides her faint rays, and at her bidding shrinks.
Such was this heaven-loved isle, 25
Than Lesbos fairer and the Cretan shore!
No more shall Freedom smile?
Shall Britons languish, and be men no more?
Since all must life resign,
Those sweet rewards which decorate the brave, 30
’Tis folly to decline,
And steal inglorious to the silent grave.
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
On Parent Knees a Naked New-born Child
Sir William J
ones (1746 — 1794)
ON parent knees, a naked new-born child,
Weeping thou sat’st while all around thee smiled:
So live, that sinking to thy life’s last sleep,
Calm thou may’st smile, whilst all around thee weep.
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
Susanna Blamire
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
And Ye Shall Walk in Silk Attire
Susanna Blamire (1747 — 1794)
AND ye shall walk in silk attire
And siller hae to spare,
Gin ye’ll consent to be his bride,
Nor think o’ Donald mair.
Oh, wha wad buy a silken goun 5
Wi’ a puir broken heart?
Or what’s to me a siller croun,
Gin frae my love I part?
The mind wha’s every wish is pure
Far dearer is to me; 10
And ere I’m forced to break my faith,
I’ll lay me doun and dee:
For I ha’e pledged my virgin troth
Brave Donald’s fate to share;
And he has gi’en to me his heart, 15
Wi’ a’ its virtues rare.
His gentle manners wan my heart,
He gratefu’ took the gift;