Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Robert Burns
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Название: Poems and Songs of Robert Burns

Автор: Robert Burns

Издательство: Bookwire

Жанр: Языкознание

Серия:

isbn: 4057664117434

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ Or glorious died!

       O, sweet are Coila's haughs an' woods,

       When lintwhites chant amang the buds,

       And jinkin hares, in amorous whids,

       Their loves enjoy;

       While thro' the braes the cushat croods

       With wailfu' cry!

       Ev'n winter bleak has charms to me,

       When winds rave thro' the naked tree;

       Or frosts on hills of Ochiltree

       Are hoary gray;

       Or blinding drifts wild-furious flee,

       Dark'ning the day!

       O Nature! a' thy shews an' forms

       To feeling, pensive hearts hae charms!

       Whether the summer kindly warms,

       Wi' life an light;

       Or winter howls, in gusty storms,

       The lang, dark night!

       The muse, nae poet ever fand her,

       Till by himsel he learn'd to wander,

       Adown some trottin burn's meander,

       An' no think lang:

       O sweet to stray, an' pensive ponder

       A heart-felt sang!

       The war'ly race may drudge an' drive,

       Hog-shouther, jundie, stretch, an' strive;

       Let me fair Nature's face descrive,

       And I, wi' pleasure,

       Shall let the busy, grumbling hive

       Bum owre their treasure.

       Fareweel, “my rhyme-composing” brither!

       We've been owre lang unkenn'd to ither:

       Now let us lay our heads thegither,

       In love fraternal:

       May envy wallop in a tether,

       Black fiend, infernal!

       While Highlandmen hate tools an' taxes;

       While moorlan's herds like guid, fat braxies;

       While terra firma, on her axis,

       Diurnal turns;

       Count on a friend, in faith an' practice,

       In Robert Burns.

       Table of Contents

      My memory's no worth a preen;

       I had amaist forgotten clean,

       Ye bade me write you what they mean

       By this “new-light,”

       'Bout which our herds sae aft hae been

       Maist like to fight.

       In days when mankind were but callans

       At grammar, logic, an' sic talents,

       They took nae pains their speech to balance,

       Or rules to gie;

       But spak their thoughts in plain, braid lallans,

       Like you or me.

       In thae auld times, they thought the moon,

       Just like a sark, or pair o' shoon,

       Wore by degrees, till her last roon

       Gaed past their viewin;

       An' shortly after she was done

       They gat a new ane.

       This passed for certain, undisputed;

       It ne'er cam i' their heads to doubt it,

       Till chiels gat up an' wad confute it,

       An' ca'd it wrang;

       An' muckle din there was about it,

       Baith loud an' lang.

       Some herds, weel learn'd upo' the beuk,

       Wad threap auld folk the thing misteuk;

       For 'twas the auld moon turn'd a neuk

       An' out of' sight,

       An' backlins-comin to the leuk

       She grew mair bright.

       This was deny'd, it was affirm'd;

       The herds and hissels were alarm'd

       The rev'rend gray-beards rav'd an' storm'd,

       That beardless laddies

       Should think they better wer inform'd,

       Than their auld daddies.

       Frae less to mair, it gaed to sticks;

       Frae words an' aiths to clours an' nicks;

       An monie a fallow gat his licks,

       Wi' hearty crunt;

       An' some, to learn them for their tricks,

       Were hang'd an' brunt.

       This game was play'd in mony lands,

       An' auld-light caddies bure sic hands,

       That faith, the youngsters took the sands

       Wi' nimble shanks;

       Till lairds forbad, by strict commands,

       Sic bluidy pranks.

       But new-light herds gat sic a cowe,

       Folk thought them ruin'd stick-an-stowe;

       Till now, amaist on ev'ry knowe

       Ye'll find ane plac'd;

       An' some their new-light fair avow,

       СКАЧАТЬ