Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/To Burns, while living

​
To Burns, While Living.
Dear Burns,
      Unkind I lo'e your lays,
In troth they merit mickle praise;
Weel may ye fare through a' your days,
            Ay pipe an' sing,
An' ne'er want either brose or clais',
            Or ony thing.

Wi' walth o' Greek and Latin lare
Some chields can hammer out an air;
But ane like you affronts them sare,
            An' proves wi' birr,
That nature can do ten times mare
            Thau apes o' her.

As Scotland's bard weel be ye kent,
I hope frae her ye'll ne'er he rent,
On proud Parnassy's birsy bent
            Lang may ye shine,
An' far an' near your fame be sent
            Though ilka clime.

​
I wish ye mony a happy year,
Wi' routh o' fame and walth o' gear,
Abundant health to crown your cheer,
            An' a' that's good;
I wad be glad frae you to hear
            In merry mood.

This article is issued from Wikisource. The text is available under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 unless otherwise noted. Additional terms may apply for the media files.