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

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

Prologue Spoken By Mr. Woods On His Benefit Night, Monday, 16 April, 1787.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

Written In A Lady's Pocket-Book.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

When I Think On The Happy Days.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

The Heron Ballads. (Ballad Second.)

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 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

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

Lines On Stirling.

    Here Stuarts once in glory reign'd,
    And laws for Scotland's weal ordain'd;
    But now unroof'd their palace stands,
    Their sceptre's sway'd by other hands;
    The injured Stuart line is gone,
    A race outlandish fills their throne;
    An idiot race, to honour lost;
    Who know them best despise them most.

Robert Burns

On The Same. (On A Henpecked Country Squire.)

    O Death, hadst thou but spared his life,
        Whom we this day lament,
    We freely wad exchang'd the wife,
        And a' been weel content!

    Ev'n as he is, cauld in his graff,
        The swap we yet will do't;
    Take thou the carlin's carcase aff,
        Thou'se get the soul to boot.

Robert Burns

On The Same. (On A Henpecked Country Squire.)

    One Queen Artemisia, as old stories tell,
    When depriv'd of her husband she loved so well,
    In respect for the love and affection he'd show'd her,
    She reduc'd him to dust and she drank up the powder.
    But Queen Netherplace, of a diff'rent complexion,
    When call'd on to order the fun'ral direction,
    Would have eat her dear lord, on a slender pretence,
    Not to show her respect, but to save the expense.

Robert Burns