There's not a bonnie flower that springs O blaw ye westlin winds, blaw saft That's ay sae neat and clean; What sighs and vows amang the knowes How fond to meet, how wae to part The Powers aboon can only ken To whom the heart is seen, That nane can be sae dear to me Robert Burns 75 O MARY MORISON MARY, at thy window be, It is the wished, the trysted hour! Knowes: hills That make the miser's treasure poor: Shaw: grove Westlin: west How blithely wad I bide the stoure, Yestreen when to the trembling string I sat, but neither heard nor saw: O Mary, canst thou wreck his peace If love for love thou wilt na gie, Robert Burns 76 TAM GLEN Y heart is a-breaking, dear tittie, To anger them a' is a pity, But what will I do wi' Tam Glen? Braw: handsome, gaily dressed Stoure: dust, turmoil Tittie: sister I'm thinking, wi' sic a braw fellow, There's Lowrie, the laird o' Dumeller, But when will he dance like Tam Glen? My minnie does constantly deave me, But wha can think sae o' Tam Glen? My daddie says, gin I'll forsake him, Yestreen at the valentines' dealing, The last Halloween I was waukin My droukit sark-sleeve, as ye ken: And the very gray breeks o' Tam Glen! Ben: into the parlor Deave: deafen Droukit: wet Fen: successful struggle Sark-sleeve: shirt-sleeve Sten: leap Waukin: watching Come counsel, dear tittie, don't tarry; Gif ye will advise me to marry The lad I lo'e dearly, Tam Glen. Robert Burns 7 MY Y true-love hath my heart, and I have his, His heart in me keeps him and me in one, My true-love hath my heart, and I have his. Sir Philip Sidney 8 H AVING this day my horse, my hand, my lance bo Guided so well that I obtained the prize, Both by the judgment of the English eyes And of some sent from that sweet enemy France; Horsemen my skill in horsemanship advance, Town folks my strength; a daintier judge applies His praise to sleight which from good use doth rise; Some lucky wits impute it but to chance; Others, because of both sides I do take My blood from them who did excel in this, 791 Think Nature me a man-at-arms did make. NOR OR roses kindling when the Night grows old, Nor bastioned camps thick-set with bristling pikes, Nor solemn stillness of dumb rocks, can yield Pierre Ronsard 80 Wall HEN in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, Featured like him, like him with friends possest, 1 The translation is by George Wyndham, and is reprinted with the permission of Macmillan & Co., Ltd. |