The Complete Works. Robert Burns

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СКАЧАТЬ sooty coots, and speckled teals;

      Ye fisher herons, watching eels:

      Ye duck and drake, wi’ airy wheels

      Circling the lake;

      Ye bitterns, till the quagmire reels,

      Rair for his sake.

      Mourn, clam’ring craiks, at close o’ day,

      ‘Mang fields o’ flowering clover gay;

      And when ye wing your annual way

      Frae our cauld shore,

      Tell thae far warlds, wha lies in clay,

      Wham we deplore.

      Ye houlets, frae your ivy bow’r,

      In some auld tree, or eldritch tow’r,

      What time the moon, wi’ silent glow’r,

      Sets up her horn,

      Wail thro’ the dreary midnight hour

      ’Till waukrife morn!

      O rivers, forests, hills, and plains!

      Oft have ye heard my canty strains:

      But now, what else for me remains

      But tales of woe?

      And frae my een the drapping rains

      Maun ever flow.

      Mourn, spring, thou darling of the year!

      Ilk cowslip cup shall kep a tear:

      Thou, simmer, while each corny spear

      Shoots up its head,

      The gay, green, flow’ry tresses shear

      For him that’s dead!

      Thou, autumn, wi’ thy yellow hair,

      In grief thy sallow mantle tear:

      Thou, winter, hurling thro’ the air

      The roaring blast,

      Wide, o’er the naked world declare

      The worth we’ve lost!

      Mourn him, thou sun, great source of light!

      Mourn, empress of the silent night!

      And you, ye twinkling starnies bright,

      My Matthew mourn!

      For through your orbs he’s ta’en his flight,

      Ne’er to return.

      O, Henderson! the man—the brother!

      And art thou gone, and gone for ever?

      And hast thou crost that unknown river

      Life’s dreary bound?

      Like thee, where shall I find another,

      The world around?

      Go to your sculptur’d tombs, ye great,

      In a’ the tinsel trash o’ state!

      But by thy honest turf I’ll wait,

      Thou man of worth!

      And weep the ae best fellow’s fate

      E’er lay in earth.

      THE EPITAPH

      Stop, passenger!—my story’s brief,

      And truth I shall relate, man;

      I tell nae common tale o’ grief—

      For Matthew was a great man.

      If thou uncommon merit hast,

      Yet spurn’d at fortune’s door, man,

      A look of pity hither cast—

      For Matthew was a poor man.

      If thou a noble sodger art,

      That passest by this grave, man,

      There moulders here a gallant heart—

      For Matthew was a brave man.

      If thou on men, their works and ways,

      Canst throw uncommon light, man,

      Here lies wha weel had won thy praise—

      For Matthew was a bright man.

      If thou at friendship’s sacred ca’

      Wad life itself resign, man,

      Thy sympathetic tear maun fa’—

      For Matthew was a kind man!

      If thou art staunch without a stain,

      Like the unchanging blue, man,

      This was a kinsman o’ thy ain—

      For Matthew was a true man.

      If thou hast wit, and fun, and fire,

      And ne’er guid wine did fear, man,

      This was thy billie, dam and sire—

      For Matthew was a queer man.

      If ony whiggish whingin sot,

      To blame poor Matthew dare, man,

      May dool and sorrow be his lot!

      For Matthew was a rare man.

      CXIII. THE FIVE CARLINS. A SCOTS BALLAD

      Tune—Chevy Chase.

      [This is a local and political Poem composed on the contest between Miller, the younger, of Dalswinton, and Johnstone, of Westerhall, for the representation of the Dumfries and Galloway district of Boroughs. Each town or borough speaks and acts in character: Maggy personates Dumfries; Marjory, Lochmaben; Bess of Solway-side, Annan; Whiskey Jean, Kirkcudbright; and Black Joan, Sanquhar. On the part of Miller, all the Whig interest of the Duke of Queensberry was exerted, and all the Tory interest on the side of the Johnstone: the poet’s heart was with the latter. Annan and Lochmaben stood staunch by old names and old affections: after a contest, bitterer than anything of the kind remembered, the Whig interest prevailed.]

      There were five carlins in the south,

      They fell upon a scheme,

      To send a lad to London town,

      To bring them tidings hame.

      Not only bring them tidings hame,

      But do their errands there;

      And aiblins gowd and honour baith

      Might be that laddie’s share.

      There was Maggy by the banks o’ Nith,

      A dame wi’ pride eneugh;

      And Marjory o’ the mony lochs,

      A carlin auld and teugh.

      And blinkin’ Bess of Annandale,

      That dwelt near Solway-side;

      And whiskey Jean, that took her gill

      In Galloway sae wide.

      And black Joan, frae Crighton-peel,

      O’ gipsey kith an’ kin;—

      Five wighter carlins were na found

      The south countrie within.

      To send a lad to London town,

      They met upon a day;

      And mony a knight, and mony a laird,

      This errand fain wad gae.

      O mony a knight, and mony a laird,

      This errand fain wad gae;

      But nae ane could their fancy please,

      O ne’er a ane but twae.

      The first ane was a belted knight,

      Bred of a border band;

      And he wad gae to London town,

      Might nae man him withstand.

      And he wad do their errands weel,

      And СКАЧАТЬ