The Toast.

    Fill me with the rosy-wine,
    Call a toast, a toast divine;
    Give the Poet's darling flame,
    Lovely Jessy be the name;
    Then thou mayest freely boast,
    Thou hast given a peerless toast.

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

To Miss Logan, With Beattie's Poems For A New Year'S Gift. Jan. 1, 1787.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

Poor Mailie's Elegy.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

Scotch Drink.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

Musing On The Roaring Ocean.

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.

To A Lady, With A Present Of A Pair Of Drinking-Glasses.

    Fair Empress of the Poet's soul,
        And Queen of Poetesses;
    Clarinda, take this little boon,
        This humble pair of glasses.

    And fill them high with generous juice,
        As generous as your mind;
    And pledge me in the generous toast,
        "The whole of human kind!"

    "To those who love us!" second fill;
        But not to those whom we love;
    Lest we love those who love not us!
        A third, "to thee and me, love!"

Robert Burns

Reply To The Toast Of Scottish Poets.

        Burns sang so sweet behind the plow,
        Daisies we'll wreath around his brow,
        Musing on thee what visions throng,
        Of floods you poured of Scottish song.
        Scott he did write romancing rhymes
        Of chivalry of ancient times;
        For tender feeling none can cope
        With Campbell the sweet Bard of hope.
        Eye with sympathetic tear in
        Will shed it for Exile of Erin,
        And Tannahill while at his loom
        Wove flowers of song will ever bloom.
        Hogg, Ettrick Shepherd, did gain fame
        By singing when the kye comes hame,
        With good time coming Bard McKay
        Still merrily doth cheer the way.

James McIntyre

Delia. - An Ode.

    Fair the face of orient day,
    Fair the tints of op'ning rose,
    But fairer still my Delia dawns,
    More lovely far her beauty blows.

    Sweet the lark's wild-warbled lay,
    Sweet the tinkling rill to hear;
    But, Delia, more delightful still
    Steal thine accents on mine ear.

    The flow'r-enamoured busy bee
    The rosy banquet loves to sip;
    Sweet the streamlet's limpid lapse
    To the sun-brown'd Arab's lip;

    But, Delia, on thy balmy lips
    Let me, no vagrant insect, rove!
    O, let me steal one liquid kiss!
    For, oh! my soul is parch'd with love.

Robert Burns

The Toast.

    Instead of a song, boys, I'll give you a toast,
    Here's the memory of those on the twelfth that we lost!
    That we lost, did I say? nay, by Heav'n, that we found;
    For their fame it shall last while the world goes round.
    The next in succession, I'll give you, the King!
    Whoe'er would betray him, on high may he swing;
    And here's the grand fabric, our free Constitution,
    As built on the base of the great Revolution;
    And longer with politics not to be cramm'd,
    Be Anarchy curs'd, and be Tyranny damn'd;
    And who would to Liberty e'er prove disloyal,
    May his son be a hangman, and he his first trial.

Robert Burns

The Humble Petition Of Bruar Water To The Noble Duke Of Athole.

I.

    My Lord, I know your noble ear
        Woe ne'er assails in vain;
    Embolden'd thus, I beg you'll hear
        Your humble slave complain,
    How saucy Phoebus' scorching beams
        In flaming summer-pride,
    Dry-withering, waste my foamy streams,
        And drink my crystal tide.

II.

    The lightly-jumpin' glowrin' trouts,
        That thro' my waters play,
    If, in their random, wanton spouts,
        They near the margin stray;
    If, hapless chance! they linger lang,
        I'm scorching up so shallow,
    They're left the whitening stanes amang,
        In gasping death to wallow.

III.

    Last day I grat wi' spite and teen,
        As Poet Burns came by,
    That to a bard I shou...

Robert Burns

Jessy.

Tune - "Here's a health to them that's awa."



I.

    Here's a health to ane I lo'e dear;
        Here's a health to ane I lo'e dear;
    Thou art sweet as the smile when fond lovers meet,
        And soft as their parting tear - Jessy!

II.

    Altho' thou maun never be mine,
        Altho' even hope is denied;
    'Tis sweeter for thee despairing,
        Then aught in the world beside - Jessy!

III.

    I mourn through the gay, gaudy day,
        As, hopeless, I muse on thy charms:
    But welcome the dream o' sweet slumber,
        For then I am lockt in thy arms - Jessy!

IV.

    I guess by the dear angel smile,
        I guess by the love rolling e'e;
    But why urge the tender...

Robert Burns