War poems
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52. Epitaph on John Rankine
© Robert Burns
AE day, as Death, that gruesome carl,
Was driving to the tither warl
A mixtie-maxtie motley squad,
And mony a guilt-bespotted lad
293. The Whistle: A Ballad
© Robert Burns
I SING of a Whistle, a Whistle of worth,
I sing of a Whistle, the pride of the North.
Was brought to the court of our good Scottish King,
And long with this Whistle all Scotland shall ring.
The Dream Of The World Without Death
© William Cosmo Monkhouse
NOW, sitting by her side, worn out with weeping,
Behold, I fell to sleep, and had a vision,
310. Tam o Shanter: A Tale
© Robert Burns
This truth fand honest TAM O SHANTER,
As he frae Ayr ae night did canter:
(Auld Ayr, wham neer a town surpasses,
For honest men and bonie lasses).
62. Epistle to William Simson
© Robert Burns
Sae, ye observe that a this clatter
Is naething but a moonshine matter;
But tho dull prose-folk Latin splatter
In logic tulyie,
I hope we bardies ken some better
Than mind sic brulyie.
87. The Twa Dogs
© Robert Burns
Note 1. Luath was Burns own dog. [back]
Note 2. Cuchullins dog in Ossians Fingal.R. B. [back]
The Progress of Taste, or the Fate of Delicacy
© William Shenstone
A POEM ON THE TEMPER AND STUDIES OF THE AUTHOR; AND HOW GREAT A MISFORTUNE IT IS FOR A MAN OF SMALL ESTATE TO HAVE MUCH TASTE.
Part first.
42. A Poets Welcome to his Love-Begotten Daughter
© Robert Burns
For if thou be what I wad hae thee,
And tak the counsel I shall gie thee,
Ill never rue my trouble wi thee,
The cost nor shame ot,
But be a loving father to thee,
And brag the name ot.
IX. O Poverty! though from thy haggard eye...
© William Lisle Bowles
O POVERTY! though from thy haggard eye,
Thy cheerless mein, of every charm bereft,
115. The Farewell to the Brethren of St. Jamess Lodge, Tarbolton
© Robert Burns
ADIEU! a heart-warm fond adieu;
Dear brothers of the mystic tie!
Ye favourèd, enlightend few,
Companions of my social joy;
80. The Jolly Beggars: A Cantata
© Robert Burns
AirTuneSoldiers Joy.I am a son of Mars who have been in many wars,
And show my cuts and scars wherever I come;
This here was for a wench, and that other in a trench,
When welcoming the French at the sound of the drum.
Lal de daudle, &c.
Runnamede, A Tragedy. Acts I.-II.
© John Logan
Yet lost to fame is virtue's orient reign;
The patriot lived, the hero died in vain,
Dark night descended o'er the human day,
And wiped the glory of the world away:
Whirled round the gulf, the acts of time were tost,
Then in the vast abyss for ever lost.
El Nudo (The Knot)
© Delmira Agustini
Su idilio fue una larga sonrisa a cuatro labios…
En el regazo cálido de rubia primavera
Amáronse talmente que entre sus dedos sabios
Palpitó la divina forma de la Quimera.
Fareweel To A'Our Scottish Fame
© Robert Burns
Fareweel to a' our Scottish fame,
Fareweel our ancient glory;
Fareweel ev'n to the Scottish name,
Sae famed in martial story!
306. Election Ballad at close of Contest for representing the Dumfries Burghs, 1790
© Robert Burns
Now, for my friends and brethrens sakes,
And for my dear-lovd Land o Cakes,
I pray with holy fire:
Lord, send a rough-shod troop o Hell
Oer a wad Scotland buy or sell,
To grind them in the mire!
The Farewell
© Henry King
Splendidis longum valedico nugis.
Farewell fond Love, under whose childish whip,
I have serv'd out a weary Prentiship;
Thou that hast made me thy scorn'd property,
The Complaint: or Night Thoughts (excerpt)
© Edward Young
By Nature's law, what may be, may be now;
There's no prerogative in human hours.
133. The Brigs of Ayr
© Robert Burns
THE SIMPLE Bard, rough at the rustic plough,
Learning his tuneful trade from evry bough;
The chanting linnet, or the mellow thrush,
Hailing the setting sun, sweet, in the green thorn bush;
Der Liebende
© Joseph Freiherr Von Eichendorff
Der Liebende steht träge auf,
Zieht ein Herr-Jemine-Gesicht
Und wünscht, er wäre tot.
Der Morgen tut sich prächtig auf.
