no wrinkle, furrow'd by the hand of care,
nor ever sorrow add one silver hair!
o may no son the father's honour stain,
nor ever daughter give the mother pain!
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns epitaph on a lap-dog epitaph on a lap-dog
named echo
in wood and wild, ye warbling throng,
your heavy loss deplore;
now, half extinct your powers of song,
sweet echo is no more.
ye jarring, screeching things around,
scream your discordant joys;
now, half your din of tuneless sound
with echo silent lies.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns epigrams against the earl of galloway epigrams against the earl of galloway
what dost thou in that mansion fair?
flit, galloway, and find
some narrow, dirty, dungeon cave,
the picture of thy mind.
no stewart art thou, galloway,
the stewarts 'll were brave;
besides, the stewarts were but fools,
not one of them a knave.
bright ran thy line, o galloway,
thro' many a far-fam'd sire!
so ran the far-famed roman way,
and ended in a mire.
spare me thy vengeance, galloway!
in quiet let me live:
i ask no kindness at thy hand,
for thou hast none to give.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns epigram on the laird of laggan epigram on the laird of laggan
when morine, deceas'd, to the devil went down,
'twas nothing would serve him but satan's own crown;
“thy fool's head,” &
h satan, “that crown shall wear never,
i grant thou'rt as wicked, but not quite so clever.”
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns song—phillis the fair song—phillis the fair
tune—“robin adair.”
while larks, with little wing,
fann'd the pure air,
tasting the breathing spring,
forth i did fare:
gay the sun's golden eye
peep'd o'er the mountains high;
such thy morn! did i cry,
phillis the fair.
in each bird's careless song,
glad i did share;
while yon wild-flowers among,
chance led me there!
sweet to the op'ning day,
rosebuds bent the dewy spray;
such thy bloom! did i say,
phillis the fair.
down in a shady walk,
doves cooing were;
i mark'd the cruel hawk
caught in a snare:
so kind may fortune be,
such make his destiny,
he who would injure thee,
phillis the fair.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns song—had i a cave song—had i a cave
tune—“robin adair.”
had i a cave on some wild distant shore,
where the winds howl to the wave's dashing roar:
there would i weep my woes,
there seek my lost repose,
till grief my eyes should close,
ne'er to wake more!
falsest of womankind, can'st thou declare
all thy fond, plighted vows fleeting as air!
to thy new lover hie,
laugh o'er thy perjury;
then in thy bosom try
what peace is there!
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns song—by allan stream song—by allan stream
by allan stream i chanc'd to rove,
while phoebus sank beyond benledi;
the winds are whispering thro' the grove,
the yellow corn was waving ready:
i listen'd to a lover's sang,
an' thought on youthfu' pleasures mony;
and aye the wild-wood echoes rang—
“o, dearly do i love thee, annie!
“o, happy be the woodbine bower,
nae nightly bogle make it eerie;
nor ever sorrow stain the hour,
the place and time i met my dearie!
her head upon my throbbing breast,
she, sinking, said, 'i'm thine for ever!'
while mony a kiss the seal imprest—
the sacred vow we ne'er should sever.”
the haunt o' spring's the primrose-brae,
the summer joys the flocks to follow;
how cheery thro' her short'ning day,
is autumn in her weeds o' yellow;
but can they melt the glowing heart,
or chain the soul in speechless pleasure?
or thro' each nerve the rapture dart,
like meeting her, our bosom's treasure?
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns whistle, and ill come to you, my lad whistle, and i'lle to you, my lad
chorus.—o whistle, an' i'lle to ye, my lad,
o whistle, an' i'lle to ye, my lad,
tho' father an' mother an' a' should gae mad,
o whistle, an' i'lle to ye, my lad.
but warily tent when yee to court me,
ande nae unless the back-yett be a-jee;
syne up the back-stile, and let naebody see,
ande as ye were nain' to me,
ande as ye were nain' to me.
o whistle an' i'lle, c.
at kirk, or at market, whene'er ye meet me,
gang by me as tho' that ye car'd na a flie;
but steal me a blink o' your bonie black e'e,
yet look as ye were na lookin' to me,
yet look as ye were na lookin' to me.
o whistle an' i'lle, c.
aye vow and protest that ye care na for me,
and whiles ye may lightly my beauty a-wee;
but court na anither, tho' jokin' ye be,
for fear that she wile your fancy frae me,
for fear that she wile your fancy frae me.
o whistle an' i'lle, c.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns phillis the queen o the fair phillis the queen o' the fair
tune—“the muckin o' geordie's byre.”
adown winding nith i did wander,
to mark the sweet flowers as they spring;
adown winding nith i did wander,
of phillis to muse and to sing.
chorus.—awa' wi' your belles and your beauties,
they never wi' her canpare,
whaever has met wi' my phillis,
has met wi' the queen o' the fair.
the daisy amus'd my fond fancy,
so artless, so simple, so wild;
thou emblem, said i, o' my phillis—
for she is simplicity's child.
awa' wi' your belles, c.
the rose-bud's the blush o' my charmer,
her sweet balmy lip when 'tis prest:
how fair and how pure is the lily!
but fairer and purer her breast.
awa' wi' your belles, c.
yon knot of gay flowers in the arbour,
they ne'er wi' my phillis can vie:
her breath is the breath of the woodbine,
its dew-drop o' diamond her eye.
awa' wi' your belles, c.
her voice is the song o' the morning,
that wakes thro' the green-spreading grove
when phoebus peeps over the mountains,
on music, and pleasure, and love.
awa' wi' your belles, c.
but beauty, how frail and how fleeting!
the bloom of a fine summer's day;
while worth in the mind o' my phillis,
will flourish without a decay.
awa' wi' your belles, c.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns come, let me take thee to my breast e, let me take thee to my breast
e, let me take thee to my breast,
and pledge we ne'er shall sunder;
and i shall spurn as vilest dust
the world's wealth and grandeur:
and do i hear my jeanie own
that equal transports move her?
i ask for dearest life alone,
that i may live to love her.
thus, in my arms, wi' a' her charms,
i clasp my countless treasure;
i'll seek nae main o' heav'n to share,
tha sic a moment's pleasure:
and by thy e'en sae bonie blue,
i swear i'm thine for ever!
and on thy lips i seal my vow,
and break it shall i never.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns dainty davie dainty davie
now rosy mayes in wi' flowers,
to deck her gay, green-spreading bowers;
and nowes in the happy hours,
to wander wi' my davie.
chorus.—meet me on the warlock knowe,
dainty davie, dainty davie;
there i'll spend the day wi' you,
my ain dear dainty davie.