dost boast that countenance divine?
each skulking feature answers, no!
bute, ye sons of liberty,
columbia's offspring, brave as free,
in danger's hour still flaming in the van,
ye know, and dare maintain, the royalty of man!
alfred! on thy starry throne,
surrounded by the tuneful choir,
the bards that erst have struck the patriot lyre,
and rous'd the freeborn briton's soul of fire,
no more thy england own!
dare injured nations form the great design,
to make detested tyrants bleed?
thy england execrates the glorious deed!
beneath her hostile banners waving,
every pang of honour braving,
england in thunder calls, “the tyrant's cause is mine!”
that hour accurst how did the fiends rejoice
and hell, thro' all her confines, raise the exulting voice,
that hour which saw the generous english name
linkt with such damned deeds of everlasting shame!
thee, caledonia! thy wild heaths among,
fam'd for the martial deed, the heaven-taught song,
to thee i turn with swimming eyes;
where is that soul of freedom fled?
immingled with the mighty dead,
beneath that hallow'd turf where wallace lies
hear it not, wallace! in thy bed of death.
ye babbling winds! in silence sweep,
disturb not ye the hero's sleep,
nor give the coward secret breath!
is this the ancient caledonian form,
firm as the rock, resistless as the storm?
show me that eye which shot immortal hate,
blasting the despot's proudest bearing;
show me that arm which, nerv'd with thundering fate,
crush'd usurpation's boldest daring!—
dark-quench'd as yonder sinking star,
no more that glance lightens afar;
that palsied arm no more whirls on the waste of war.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns inscription to miss graham of fintry inscription to miss graham of fintry
here, where the scottish muse immortal lives,
in sacred strains and tuneful numbers joined,
accept the gift; though humble he who gives,
rich is the tribute of the grateful mind.
so may no ruffian-feeling in my breast,
discordant, jar thy bosom-chords among;
but peace attune thy gentle soul to rest,
or love, ecstatic, wake his seraph song,
or pity's notes, in luxury of tears,
as modest want the tale of woe reveals;
while conscious virtue all the strains endears,
and heaven-born piety her sanction seals.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns on the seas and far away on the seas and far away
tune—“o'er the hills and far away.”
how can my poor heart be glad,
when absent from my sailor lad;
how can i the thought forego—
he's on the seas to meet the foe?
let me wander, let me rove,
still my heart is with my love;
nightly dreams, and thoughts by day,
are with him that's far away.
chorus.—on the seas and far away,
on stormy seas and far away;
nightly dreams and thoughts by day,
are aye with him that's far away.
when in summer noon i faint,
as weary flocks around me pant,
haply in this scorching sun,
my sailor's thund'ring at his gun;
bullets, spare my only joy!
bullets, spare my darling boy!
fate, do with me what you may,
spare but him that's far away,
on the seas and far away,
on stormy seas and far away;
fate, do with me what you may,
spare but him that's far away.
at the starless, midnight hour
when winter rules with boundless power,
as the storms the forests tear,
and thunders rend the howling air,
listening to the doubling roar,
surging on the rocky shore,
all i can—i weep and pray
for his weal that's far away,
on the seas and far away,
on stormy seas and far away;
all i can—i weep and pray,
for his weal that's far away.
peace, thy olive wand extend,
and bid wild war his ravage end,
man with brother man to meet,
and as a brother kindly greet;
then may heav'n with prosperous gales,
fill my sailor's wee sails;
to my arms their charge convey,
my dear lad that's far away.
on the seas and far away,
on stormy seas and far away;
to my arms their charge convey,
my dear lad that's far away.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns ca the yowes to the knowes—second version ca' the yowes to the knowes—second version
chorus.—ca'the yowes to the knowes,
ca' them where the heather grows,
ca' them where the burnie rowes,
my bonie dearie.
hark the mavis' e'ening sang,
sounding clouden's woods amang;
then a-faulding let us gang,
my bonie dearie.
ca' the yowes, c.
we'll gae down by clouden side,
thro' the hazels, spreading wide,
o'er the waves that sweetly glide,
to the moon sae clearly.
ca' the yowes, c.
yonder clouden's silent towers,
where, at moonshine's midnight hours,
o'er the dewy-bending flowers,
fairies dance sae cheery.
ca' the yowes, c.
ghaist nor bogle shalt thou fear,
thou'rt to love and heav'n sae dear,
nocht of ill maye thee near;
my bonie dearie.
ca' the yowes, c.
fair and lovely as thou art,
thou hast stown my very heart;
i can die—but canna part,
my bonie dearie.
ca' the yowes, c.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns she says she loes me best of a she says she loes me best of a'
tune—“oonagh's waterfall.”
sae flaxen were her ringlets,
her eyebrows of a darker hue,
bewitchingly o'er-arching
twa laughing e'en o' lovely blue;
her smiling, sae wyling.
wad make a wretch forget his woe;
what pleasure, what treasure,
unto these rosy lips to grow!
such was my chloris' bonie face,
when first that bonie face i saw;
and aye my chloris' dearest charm—
she says, she lo'es me best of a'.
like harmony her motion,
her pretty ankle is a spy,
betraying fair proportion,
wad make a saint forget the sky:
sae warming, sae charming,
her faultless form and gracefu' air;
ilk feature—auld nature
declar'd that she could do nae mair:
hers are the willing chains o' love,
by conquering beauty's sovereign law;
and still my chloris' dearest charm—
she says, she lo'es me best of a'.
let others love the city,
and gaudy show, at sunny noon;
gie me the lonely valley,
the dewy eve and rising moon,
fair beaming, and streaming,
her silver light the boughs amang;
while falling; recalling,
the amorous thrush concludes his sang;
there, dearest chloris, wilt thou rove,
by wimpling burn and leafy shaw,
and hear my vows o' truth and love,
and say, thou lo'es me best of a'.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns to dr. maxwell to dr. maxwell
on miss jessy staig's recovery.
maxwell, if merit here you crave,
that merit i deny;
you save fair jessie from the grave!—
an angel could not die!
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns to the beautiful miss eliza j—n to the beautiful miss eliza j—n
on her principles of liberty and equality.
how, liberty! girl, can it be by thee nam'd?
equality too! hussey, art not asham'd?
free and equal indeed, while mankind thou enchainest,
and over their hearts a proud despot so reignest.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns on chloris on chloris
requesting me to give her a spring of blossomed thorn.
from the white-blossom'd sloe my dear chloris requested
a sprig, her fair breast to adorn:
no, by heavens! i exclaim'd, let me perish, if ever
i plant in that bosom a thorn!