Robert Burns (1759 – 1796)
Poet and pioneer of the Romantic movement and after his death became an important source of inspiration to the founders of both liberalism and socialism.
Some books are lies frae end to end.
He turn'd him right and round about
Upon the Irish shore;
And gae his bridle reins a shake,
With adieu forevermore,
My dear—
And adieu forevermore!
My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here,
My heart's in the Highlands, a-chasing the deer;
A-chasing the wild deer, and following the roe,
My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go.
And may you better reck the rede,
Than ever did the adviser!
For a' that, and a' that
An' twice as muckle 's a' that,
I've lost but ane, I've twa behin',
I've wife eneugh for a' that.
Wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi' bickering brattle!
A gaudy dress and gentle air
May slightly touch the heart;
But it's innocence and modesty
that polished the dart.
From scenes like these, old Scotia's grandeur springs,
That makes her loved at home, revered abroad:
Princes and lords are but the breath of kings,
"An honest man's the noblest work of God."
His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony:
Tam lo'ed him like a vera brither—
They had been fou for weeks thegither.
Drumossie moor — Drumossie day —
A waefu' day it was to me!
For there I lost my father dear,
My father dear, and brethren three.
Man's inhumanity to man
Makes countless thousands mourn.
Man was made to Mourn.
An' there began a lang digression
About the lords o' the creation.
It was a' for our rightfu' King
We left fair Scotland's strand.
I was na fou, but just had plenty.
This day, Time winds th' exhausted chain,
To run the twelvemonth's length again.
Nature's law,
That man was made to mourn.
But, oh! fell death's untimely frost,
That nipt my flower sae early.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to min'?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days o' auld lang syne?
Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale.
The voice of Nature loudly cries,
And many a message from the skies,
That something in us never dies.