The Complete Works. Robert Burns

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      Sweet flow’ret, pledge o’ meikle love,

      And ward o’ mony a pray’r,

      What heart o’ stane wad thou na move,

      Sae helpless, sweet, and fair!

      November hirples o’er the lea,

      Chill on thy lovely form;

      And gane, alas! the shelt’ring tree,

      Should shield thee frae the storm.

      May He who gives the rain to pour,

      And wings the blast to blaw,

      Protect thee frae the driving show’r,

      The bitter frost and snaw!

      May He, the friend of woe and want,

      Who heals life’s various stounds,

      Protect and guard the mother-plant,

      And heal her cruel wounds!

      But late she flourish’d, rooted fast,

      Fair on the summer-morn:

      Now feebly bends she in the blast,

      Unshelter’d and forlorn.

      Blest be thy bloom, thou lovely gem,

      Unscath’d by ruffian hand!

      And from thee many a parent stem

      Arise to deck our land!

      Beauteous rose-bud, young and gay,

      Blooming in thy early May,

      Never may’st thou, lovely flow’r,

      Chilly shrink in sleety show’r!

      Never Boreas’ hoary path,

      Never Eurus’ poisonous breath,

      Never baleful stellar lights,

      Taint thee with untimely blights!

      Never, never reptile thief

      Riot on thy virgin leaf!

      Nor even Sol too fiercely view

      Thy bosom blushing still with dew!

      May’st thou long, sweet crimson gem,

      Richly deck thy native stem:

      ’Till some evening, sober, calm,

      Dropping dews and breathing balm,

      While all around the woodland rings,

      And ev’ry bird thy requiem sings;

      Thou, amid the dirgeful sound,

      Shed thy dying honours round,

      And resign to parent earth

      The loveliest form she e’er gave birth.

      I.

      Wi’ braw new branks in mickle pride,

      And eke a braw new brechan,

      My Pegasus I’m got astride,

      And up Parnassus pechin;

      Whiles owre a bush wi’ downward crush

      The doitie beastie stammers;

      Then up he gets and off he sets

      For sake o’ Willie Chalmers.

      II.

      I doubt na, lass, that weel kenn’d name

      May cost a pair o’ blushes;

      I am nae stranger to your fame,

      Nor his warm urged wishes.

      Your bonnie face sae mild and sweet

      His honest heart enamours,

      And faith ye’ll no be lost a whit,

      Tho’ waired on Willie Chalmers.

      III.

      Auld Truth hersel’ might swear ye’re fair,

      And Honour safely back her,

      And Modesty assume your air,

      And ne’er a ane mistak’ her:

      And sic twa love-inspiring een

      Might fire even holy Palmers;

      Nae wonder then they’ve fatal been

      To honest Willie Chalmers.

      IV.

      I doubt na fortune may you shore

      Some mim-mou’d pouthered priestie,

      Fu’ lifted up wi’ Hebrew lore,

      And band upon his breastie:

      But Oh! what signifies to you

      His lexicons and grammars;

      The feeling heart’s the royal blue,

      And that’s wi’ Willie Chalmers.

      V.

      Some gapin’ glowrin’ countra laird,

      May warstle for your favour;

      May claw his lug, and straik his beard,

      And hoast up some palaver.

      My bonnie maid, before ye wed

      Sic clumsy-witted hammers,

      Seek Heaven for help, and barefit skelp

      Awa’ wi’ Willie Chalmers.

      VI.

      Forgive the Bard! my fond regard

      For ane that shares my bosom,

      Inspires my muse to gie ‘m his dues,

      For de’il a hair I roose him.

      May powers aboon unite you soon,

      And fructify your amours,—

      And every year come in mair dear

      To you and Willie Chalmers.

      I.

      O thou dread Power, who reign’st above!

      I know thou wilt me hear,

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