Liberty. - A Fragment.

    Thee, Caledonia, thy wild heaths among,
    Thee, fam'd for martial deed and sacred song,
        To thee I turn with swimming eyes;
    Where is that soul of freedom fled?
    Immingled with the mighty dead!
        Beneath the hallow'd turf where Wallace lies!
    Hear it not, Wallace, in thy bed of death!
        Ye babbling winds, in silence sweep;
        Disturb not ye the hero's sleep,
    Nor give the coward secret breath.
        Is this the power in freedom's war,
        That wont to bid the battle rage?
    Behold that eye which shot immortal hate,
        Crushing the despot's proudest bearing!

Robert Burns

Robert Burns, also known as Rabbie Burns, the Bard of Ayrshire, and various other names and epithets, was a Scottish poet and lyricist. He is widely regarded as the national poet of Scotland and is celebrated worldwide. Born on January 25, 1759, in Alloway, he is best known for works such as 'Auld Lang Syne,' 'Scots Wha Hae,' and 'A Red, Red Rose.' He passed away on July 21, 1796, in Dumfries.

Robert Burns

Lovely Polly Stewart.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

O Poortith Cauld.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

Nithsdale's Welcome Hame.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

Lament Of Mary, Queen Of Scots, On The Approach Of Spring.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

English

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On The Death Of Sir James Hunter Blair.

    The lamp of day, with ill-presaging glare,
        Dim, cloudy, sunk beneath the western wave;
    Th' inconstant blast howl'd thro' the darkening air,
        And hollow whistled in the rocky cave.

    Lone as I wander'd by each cliff and dell,
        Once the lov'd haunts of Scotia's royal train;^[1]
    Or mus'd where limpid streams once hallow'd well,^[2]
        Or mould'ring ruins mark the sacred fane.^[3]

    Th' increasing blast roared round the beetling rocks,
        The clouds, swift-wing'd, flew o'er the starry sky,
    The groaning trees untimely shed their locks,
        And shooting meteors caught the startled eye.

    The paly moon rose in the livid east,
        And 'mong the cliffs disclos'd a stately for...

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Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland 1814 - II. Composed At Cora Linn - In Sight Of Wallace's Tower

"How Wallace fought for Scotland, left the name
Of Wallace to be found, like a wild flower,
All over his dear Country; left the deeds
Of Wallace, like a family of ghosts,
To people the steep rocks and river banks,
Her natural sanctuaries, with a local soul
Of independence and stern liberty."
- See The Prelude, Book I, Lines 214-20.



Lord of the vale! astounding Flood;
The dullest leaf in this thick wood
Quakes conscious of thy power;
The caves reply with hollow moan;
And vibrates, to its central stone,
Yon time-cemented Tower!

And yet how fair the rural scene!
For thou, O Clyde, hast ever been
Beneficent as strong;
Pleased in refreshing dews to steep
The little trembling flowers that peep
Thy shelving rocks among.

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Bruce To His Men At Bannockburn. (First Version.)

Tune - "Hey, tuttie taitie."



I.

    Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled,
    Scots, wham Bruce has aften led;
    Welcome to your gory bed,
            Or to victorie!

II.

    Now's the day, and now's the hour;
    See the front o' battle lour:
    See approach proud Edward's pow'r
            Chains and slaverie!

III.

    Wha will be a traitor-knave?
    Wha can fill a coward's grave?
    Wha sae base as be a slave!
            Let him turn and flee!

IV.

    Wha for Scotland's king and law
    Freedom's sword will strongly draw,
    Freeman stand, or freeman fa',
            Let him follow me!

V.

    By oppression's woes and pains!
    By our sons in ...

Robert Burns

Bannockburn. Robert Bruce's Address To His Army. (Second Version.)

I.

    Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled,
    Scots, wham Bruce has aften led;
    Welcome to your gory bed,
        Or to glorious victorie!

II.

    Now's the day, and now's the hour
    See the front o' battle lour;
    See approach proud Edward's power
        Edward! chains and slaverie!

III.

    Wha will be a traitor-knave?
    Wha can fill a coward's grave?
    Wha sae base as be a slave?
        Traitor! coward! turn and flee!

IV.

    Wha for Scotland's king and law
    Freedom's sword will strongly draw,
    Freeman stand, or freeman fa',
        Caledonian! on wi' me!

V.

    By oppression's woes and pains!
    By our sons in servile chains!
    We will drain our dea...

Robert Burns

To Liberty

O spirit of the wind and sky,
Where doth thy harp neglected lie?
Is there no heart thy bard to be,
To wake that soul of melody?
Is liberty herself a slave?
No! God forbid it! On, ye brave!

I've loved thee as the common air,
And paid thee worship everywhere:
In every soil beneath the sun
Thy simple song my heart has won.
And art thou silent? Still a slave?
And thy sons living? On, ye brave!

Gather on mountain and on plain!
Make gossamer the iron chain!
Make prison walls as paper screen,
That tyrant maskers may be seen!
Let earth as well as heaven be free!
So, on, ye brave, for liberty!

I've loved thy being from a boy:
The Highland hills were once my joy:
Then morning mists did round them lie,
Like sunshine in the happi...

John Clare

Caledonia.

Tune - "Humours of Glen."


I.

    Their groves o' sweet myrtle let foreign lands reckon,
        Where bright-beaming summers exalt the perfume;
    Far dearer to me yon lone glen o' green brockan,
        Wi' the burn stealing under the lang yellow broom:
    Far dearer to me are yon humble broom bowers,
        Where the blue-bell and gowan lurk lowly unseen;
    For there, lightly tripping amang the wild flowers,
        A listening the linnet, aft wanders my Jean.

II.

    Tho' rich is the breeze in their gay sunny valleys,
        And cauld CALEDONIA'S blast on the wave;
    Their sweet-scented woodlands that skirt the proud palace,
        What are they? - The haunt of the tyrant and slave!
    The slave's spicy forests, and...

Robert Burns