On Seeing The Beautiful Seat Of Lord Galloway.

    What dost thou in that mansion fair?
        Flit, Galloway, and find
    Some narrow, dirty, dungeon cave,
        The picture of thy mind!

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

The Banks Of Nith.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

A Dream.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

On Reading In A Newspaper The Death Of John M'Leod, Esq. Brother To A Young Lady, A Particular Friend Of The Author's.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

Weary Fa' You, Duncan Gray.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

On The Same. (On Seeing The Beautiful Seat Of Lord Galloway.)

    Bright ran thy line, O Galloway,
        Thro' many a far-fam'd sire!
    So ran the far-fam'd Roman way,
        So ended in a mire.

Robert Burns

On The Same. (On Seeing The Beautiful Seat Of Lord Galloway.)

    No Stewart art thou, Galloway,
        The Stewarts all were brave;
    Besides, the Stewarts were but fools,
        Not one of them a knave.

Robert Burns

To The Same, On The Author Being Threatened With His Resentment. (On Seeing The Beautiful Seat Of Lord Galloway.)

    Spare me thy vengeance, Galloway,
        In quiet let me live:
    I ask no kindness at thy hand,
        For thou hast none to give.

Robert Burns

To A Louse, On Seeing One In A Lady's Bonnet, At Church

    Ha! whare ye gaun, ye crowlin ferlie!
    Your impudence protects you sairly:
    I canna say by ye strunt rarely,
        Owre gauze and lace;
    Tho' faith, I fear, ye dine but sparely
        On sic a place.

    Ye ugly, creepin', blastit wonner,
    Detested, shunn'd, by saunt an' sinner,
    How dare you set your fit upon her,
        Sae fine a lady!
    Gae somewhere else, and seek your dinner
        On some poor body.

    Swith, in some beggar's haffet squattle;
    There ye may creep, and sprawl, and sprattle
    Wi' ither kindred, jumping cattle,
        In shoals and nations;
    Whare horn nor bane ne'er daur unsettle
        Your thick plantations.

    Now haud you there, ye're out o' sight,
    Below the fat...

Robert Burns

Ode Sacred To The Memory Of Mrs. Oswald, Of Auchencruive.

    Dweller in yon dungeon dark,
    Hangman of creation, mark!
    Who in widow-weeds appears,
    Laden with unhonoured years,
    Noosing with care a bursting purse,
    Baited with many a deadly curse?

Strophe.

    View the wither'd beldam's face,
    Can thy keen inspection trace
    Aught of Humanity's sweet melting grace?
    Note that eye, 'tis rheum o'erflows,
    Pity's flood there never rose.
    See these hands, ne'er stretch'd to save,
    Hands that took, but never gave.
    Keeper of Mammon's iron chest,
    Lo, there she goes, unpitied and unblest
    She goes, but not to realms of everlasting rest!

Antistrophe.

    Plunderer of armies, lift thine eyes,
    (Awhile forbear, ye tort'ring fiends;)
    S...

Robert Burns

Lines Written On A Window Of The Globe Tavern, Dumfries.

    The greybeard, old Wisdom, may boast of his treasures,
        Give me with gay Folly to live;
    I grant him his calm-blooded, time-settled pleasures,
        But Folly has raptures to give.

Robert Burns