167 Total Quotes

Robert Burns Quotes Page 6

WITH Esop's lion, Burns says: Sore I feel Each other's scorn, but damn that ass' heel!
Robert Burns
#Short

THE POOR man weeps--here Gavin sleeps, Whom canting wretches blam'd; But with such as he, where'er he be, May I be sav'd or d--d!
Robert Burns
#Short

O HAD the malt thy strength of mind, Or hops the flavour of thy wit, 'Twere drink for first of human kind, A gift that e'en for Syme were fit.JERUSALEM TAVERN, DUMFRIES.
Robert Burns
#Short

WHY, ye tenants of the lake, For me your wat'ry haunt forsake? Tell me, fellow-creatures, why At my presence thus you fly? Why disturb your social joys, Parent, filial, kindred ties?-- Common friend to you and me, yature's gifts to all are free: Peaceful keep your dimpling wave, Busy feed, or wanton lave; Or, beneath the sheltering rock, Bide the surging billow's shock. Conscious, blushing for our race, Soon, too soon, your fears I trace, Man, your proud, usurping foe, Would be lord of all below: Plumes himself in freedom's pride, Tyrant stern to all beside. The eagle, from the cliffy brow, Marking you his prey below, In his breast no pity dwells, Strong necessity compels: But Man, to whom alone is giv'n A ray direct from pitying Heav'n, Glories in his heart humane-- And creatures for his pleasure slain! In these savage, liquid plains, Only known to wand'ring swains, Where the mossy riv'let strays, Far from human haunts and ways; All on Nature you depend, And life's poor season peaceful spend. Or, if man's superior might Dare invade your native right, On the lofty ether borne, Man with all his pow'rs you scorn; Swiftly seek, on clanging wings, Other lakes and other springs; And the foe you cannot brave, Scorn at least to be his slave.
Robert Burns
#Water

MAXWELL, if merit here you crave, That merit I deny; You save fair Jessie from the grave!-- An Angel could not die!
Robert Burns
#Short

DWELLER in yon dungeon dark, Hangman of creation! mark, Who in widow-weeds appears, Laden with unhonour'd 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 stretched 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! ANTISTROPHEPlunderer of Armies! lift thine eyes, (A while forbear, ye torturing fiends;) Seest thou whose step, unwilling, hither bends? No fallen angel, hurl'd from upper skies; 'Tis thy trusty quondam Mate, Doom'd to share thy fiery fate; She, tardy, hell-ward plies. EPODE And are they of no more avail, Ten thousand glittering pounds a-year? In other worlds can Mammon fail, Omnipotent as he is here! O, bitter mockery of the pompous bier, While down the wretched Vital Part is driven! The cave-lodged Beggar,with a conscience clear, Expires in rags, unknown, and goes to Heaven.
Robert Burns
#Memory

GUDE pity me, because I'm little! For though I am an elf o' mettle, An' can, like ony wabster's shuttle, Jink there or here, Yet, scarce as lang's a gude kail-whittle, I'm unco queer. An' now Thou kens our waefu' case; For Geordie's jurr we're in disgrace, Because we stang'd her through the place, An' hurt her spleuchan; For whilk we daurna show our face Within the clachan. An' now we're dern'd in dens and hollows, And hunted, as was William Wallace, Wi' constables-thae blackguard fallows, An' sodgers baith; But Gude preserve us frae the gallows, That shamefu' death! Auld grim black-bearded Geordie's sel'-- O shake him owre the mouth o' hell! There let him hing, an' roar, an' yell Wi' hideous din, And if he offers to rebel, Then heave him in. When Death comes in wi' glimmerin blink, An' tips auld drucken Nanse the wink, May Sautan gie her doup a clink Within his yett, An' fill her up wi' brimstone drink, Red-reekin het. Though Jock an' hav'rel Jean are merry-- Some devil seize them in a hurry, An' waft them in th' infernal wherry Straught through the lake, An' gie their hides a noble curry Wi' oil of aik! As for the jurr-puir worthless body! She's got mischief enough already; Wi' stanged hips, and buttocks bluidy She's suffer'd sair; But, may she wintle in a woody, If she wh-e mair!
Robert Burns
#Prayer

AS cauld a wind as ever blew, A cauld kirk, an in't but few: As cauld a minister's e'er spak; Ye'se a' be het e'er I come back.
Robert Burns
#Short

WE grant they're thine, those beauties all, So lovely in our eye; Keep them, thou eunuch, Cardoness, For others to enjoy!
Robert Burns
#Short

HOW daur ye ca' me "Howlet-face"? Ye blear-e'ed, withered spectre! Ye only spied the keekin-glass, An' there ye saw your picture.
Robert Burns
#Short

LORD, to account who dares thee call, Or e'er dispute thy pleasure? Else why, within so thick a wall, Enclose so poor a treasure?
Robert Burns
#Short

NO cold approach, no altered mien, Just what would make suspicion start; No pause the dire extremes between, He made me blest--and broke my heart.
Robert Burns
#Short

WHILE Europe's eye is fix'd on mighty things, The fate of Empires and the fall of Kings; While quacks of State must each produce his plan, And even children lisp the Rights of Man; Amid this mighty fuss just let me mention, The Rights of Woman merit some attention. First, in the Sexes' intermix'd connection, One sacred Right of Woman is, protection.-- The tender flower that lifts its head, elate, Helpless, must fall before the blasts of Fate, Sunk on the earth, defac'd its lovely form, Unless your shelter ward th' impending storm. Our second Right--but needless here is caution, To keep that right inviolate's the fashion; Each man of sense has it so full before him, He'd die before he'd wrong it--'tis decorum.-- There was, indeed, in far less polish'd days, A time, when rough rude man had naughty ways, Would swagger, swear, get drunk, kick up a riot, Nay even thus invade a Lady's quiet. Now, thank our stars! those Gothic times are fled; Now, well-bred men--and you are all well-bred-- Most justly think (and we are much the gainers) Such conduct neither spirit, wit, nor manners. For Right the third, our last, our best, our dearest, That right to fluttering female hearts the nearest; Which even the Rights of Kings, in low prostration, Most humbly own--'tis dear, dear admiration! In that blest sphere alone we live and move; There taste that life of life--immortal love. Smiles, glances, sighs, tears, fits, flirtations, airs; 'Gainst such an host what flinty savage dares, When awful Beauty joins with all her charms-- Who is so rash as rise in rebel arms? But truce with kings, and truce with constitutions, With bloody armaments and revolutions; Let Majesty your first attention summon, Ah! ├ža ira! THE MAJESTY OF WOMAN!
Robert Burns
#Poems about Women

Yon banks and hills of bonnie Doon, How can you bloom so fresh and fair? And little birds, how can you chaunt With me so weary... full o' care? You'll break my heart, you warbling birds That wanton thru the flow'ry thorns You remind me of departed joys Departed... never to return. Oft did I rove by bonnie Doon To see the rose and woodbine twine And every bird sang of its love As fondly once I sang of mine. With lightsome heart I pulled a rose Full sweet from off its thorny tree But my first lover stole that rose And, ah! has left its thorns with me.
Robert Burns
#Love

Humid seal of soft affections, Tend'rest pledge of future bliss, Dearest tie of young connections, Love's first snow-drop, virgin kiss. Speaking silence, dumb confession, Passion's birth, and infants' play, Dove-like fondness, chaste concession, Glowing dawn of brighter day. Sorrowing joy, adieu's last action, Ling'ring lips, -- no more to join! What words can ever speak affection Thrilling and sincere as thine!
Robert Burns
#Love #Love Poems for Her #Love Poems for Him