Robert Burns

Robert Burns

1759–1796 · lived 37 years GB GB

Robert Burns was a Scottish poet and lyricist, widely regarded as the national poet of Scotland and celebrated as the cultural icon of its people. His work often captured the spirit of rural Scottish life, using vernacular Scots and exploring themes of love, nature, social justice, and national identity. Burns's poetry and songs have had a lasting impact on Scottish culture and continue to be cherished worldwide.

n. 1759-01-25, Alloway · m. 1796-07-21, Dumfries

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A Bard's Epitaph

A Bard's Epitaph
Is there a whim-inspired fool,
Owre fast for thought, owre hot for rule,
Owre blate to seek, owre proud to snool,
Let him draw near;
And owre this grassy heap sing dool,
And drap a tear.
Is there a bard of rustic song,
Who, noteless, steals the crowds among,
That weekly this area throng,
O, pass not by!
But, with a frater-feeling strong,
Here, heave a sigh.
Is there a man, whose judgment clear
Can others teach the course to steer,
Yet runs, himself, life's mad career,
Wild as the wave,
Here pause-and, thro' the starting tear,
Survey this grave.
The poor inhabitant below
Was quick to learn the wise to know,
And keenly felt the friendly glow,
And softer flame;
But thoughtless follies laid him low,
And stain'd his name!
Reader, attend! whether thy soul
Soars fancy's flights beyond the pole,
Or darkling grubs this earthly hole,
In low pursuit:
Know, prudent, cautious, self-control
Is wisdom's root.
Read full poem
Bio

Identification and basic context

Robert Burns, often hailed as the Bard of Ayrshire, is Scotland's national poet and a globally recognized figure in literature. He was born in Alloway, Ayrshire, Scotland. His primary language of writing was Scots, though he also wrote in English and occasionally in a heavily anglicized Scots. Burns lived during a period of significant social and political change, influenced by the Enlightenment and the French Revolution, which fostered a spirit of reform and nationalism.

Childhood and education

Burns's childhood was shaped by rural poverty and hard agricultural labor. His father, William Burnes, was a tenant farmer who instilled in his children a strong sense of self-improvement and education. Robert received a basic formal education but was largely self-taught, devouring books on literature, philosophy, and history. Early influences included the Bible, Scottish ballads, and the works of Enlightenment thinkers like Robert Fergusson and Allan Ramsay, which kindled his interest in Scottish culture and language.

Literary trajectory

Burns's literary career began in earnest in his early twenties. He started writing poetry as a pastime, initially to court women and to express his feelings about life in rural Scotland. His first collection, *Poems, Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect*, published in 1786, was a resounding success, quickly bringing him fame and allowing him to move to Edinburgh. He continued to write and collect Scottish folk songs, contributing significantly to the preservation and popularization of Scottish musical heritage. He also worked as an exciseman (tax collector) to supplement his income, a profession that sometimes interfered with his writing but also exposed him to different aspects of Scottish life.

Works, style, and literary characteristics

Burns's most famous works include "Auld Lang Syne," "Tam o' Shanter," "Scots Wha Hae," and "Ae Fond Kiss." His dominant themes are love (often unrequited or passionate), nature (the beauty of the Scottish landscape, the cycles of life), friendship, social inequality, and Scottish identity. His style is characterized by its directness, emotional sincerity, and vibrant use of Scots dialect, which he elevated to a literary language. He masterfully employed rhyme, rhythm, and folk song structures, often infused with a lyrical and sometimes satirical tone. His poetic voice is intimate, earthy, and often deeply patriotic or humanist. Burns's innovations lay in his ability to imbue traditional folk forms with profound personal and social commentary, making his work accessible and resonant across social classes.

Cultural and historical context

Burns was a product of the Scottish Enlightenment, a period of intellectual and cultural flourishing. His work reflected the social changes and national consciousness of late 18th-century Scotland. He was often critical of social injustices and the established church, aligning himself with reformist sentiments. His poetry captured the spirit of rural life and the burgeoning sense of Scottish identity, making him a folk hero during his lifetime and beyond. He was part of a generation of Scottish writers who sought to celebrate and preserve Scottish culture.

Personal life

Burns's personal life was tumultuous and marked by numerous romantic relationships, illegitimate children, and financial struggles. His passionate nature and strong convictions often led to conflicts with authority. His friendships, particularly with other poets and intellectuals, were important, though he also faced professional rivalries. His dedication to his family and his love for Scotland were central to his identity. His beliefs were complex, often questioning religious dogma while cherishing spiritual sentiments and humanistic values.

Recognition and reception

Burns achieved considerable fame during his lifetime, particularly after the publication of his first volume of poetry. He was celebrated in Edinburgh's literary circles, though his rural origins and sometimes unconventional lifestyle set him apart. Posthumously, his reputation grew, and he became an enduring symbol of Scottish culture. His songs and poems are now sung and recited worldwide, especially during Burns Night celebrations. His popular appeal has remained strong across centuries and social strata.

Influences and legacy

Burns was influenced by Scottish folk traditions, ballads, and poets like Allan Ramsay and Robert Fergusson. His legacy is immense; he is considered the definitive voice of Scottish poetry and song, shaping national identity and inspiring generations of Scottish writers and musicians. His works have been translated into numerous languages and continue to be performed and studied globally. His impact on the preservation and popularization of the Scots language is invaluable.

Interpretation and critical analysis

Burns's work is often interpreted through the lens of Scottish nationalism, romanticism, and social commentary. Critics debate the balance between his celebration of rural life and his critique of social structures. His use of dialect and his passionate voice invite analyses of authenticity, emotion, and cultural representation.

Curiosities and lesser-known aspects

Despite his often romanticized image, Burns faced significant financial hardship throughout his life, working as an exciseman to support his family. He was also a Freemason and held a deep interest in Scottish history and folklore. His passionate personality and sharp wit were well-known, and he was not afraid to challenge the status quo through his writings.

Death and memory

Robert Burns died at the age of 37. His death was widely mourned, and his legacy was immediately cemented through the continued publication and performance of his works. Burns Night, celebrated annually on January 25th, ensures his enduring memory and cultural significance.

Poems

69

Coming Through The Rye

Coming Through The Rye
Coming thro' the rye, poor body,
Coming thro' the rye,
She draiglet a' her petticoatie
Coming thro' the rye.
O, Jenny's a' wat, poor body;
Jenny's seldom dry;
She draiglet a' her petticoatie
Coming thro' the rye.
Gin a body meet a body
Coming thro' the rye,
Gin a body kiss a body—
Need a body cry?
Gin a body meet a body
Coming thro' the glen,
Gin a body kiss a body—
Need the warld ken?
275

Carigieburn Wood

Carigieburn Wood
Sweet fa's the eve on Craigieburn,
And blythe awakens the morrow,
But a' the pride o' spring's return
Can yield me nocht but sorrow.
I see the flowers and spreading trees,
I hear the wild birds singing;
But what a weary wight can please,
And care his bosom wringing?
Fain, fain would I my griefs impart,
Yet darena for your anger'
But secret love will break my heart,
If I conceal it langer.
If thou refuse to pity me,
If thou shalt love anither,
When yon green leaves fade frae the tree,
Around my grave they'll wither.
240

Bonnie Lesley

Bonnie Lesley
O SAW ye bonnie Lesley
As she gaed o'er the Border?
She 's gane, like Alexander,
To spread her conquests farther.
To see her is to love her,
And love but her for ever;
For Nature made her what she is,
And ne'er made sic anither!
Thou art a queen, fair Lesley,
Thy subjects we, before thee:
Thou art divine, fair Lesley,
The hearts o' men adore thee.
The Deil he couldna scaith thee,
Or aught that wad belang thee;
He'd look into thy bonnie face
And say, 'I canna wrang thee!'
The Powers aboon will tent thee,
Misfortune sha'na steer thee:
Thou'rt like themsel' sae lovely,
That ill they'll ne'er let near thee.
Return again, fair Lesley,
Return to Caledonie!
That we may brag we hae a lass
There 's nane again sae bonnie!
253

Bonie Peggy Alison

Bonie Peggy Alison
Tune - "The Braes o' Balquhidder."
Chor. - And I'll kiss thee yet, yet,
And I'll kiss thee o'er again:
And I'll kiss thee yet, yet,
My bonie Peggy Alison.
Ilk care and fear, when thou art near
I evermair defy them, O!
Young kings upon their hansel throne
Are no sae blest as I am, O!
And I'll kiss thee yet, yet, &c.
When in my arms, wi' a' thy charms,
I clasp my countless treasure, O!
I seek nae mair o' Heaven to share
Than sic a moment's pleasure, O!
And I'll kiss thee yet, yet, &c.
And by thy een sae bonie blue,
I swear I'm thine for ever, O!
And on thy lips I seal my vow,
And break it shall I never, O!
And I'll kiss thee yet, yet, &c.
262

Birks Of Aberfeldie, The

Birks Of Aberfeldie, The
Now simmer blinks on flow'ry braes,
And o'er the crystal streamlet plays,
Come, let us spend the lightsome days
In the birks of Aberfeldie!
Bonnie lassie, will ye go,
Will ye go, will ye go,
Bonnie lassie, will ye go
To the birks of Aberfeldie?
The little birdies blithely sing,
While o'er their heads the hazels hing;
Or lightly flit on wanton wing
In the birks of Aberfeldie!
Bonnie lassie, will ye go...
The braes ascend like lofty wa's,
The foaming stream, deep-roaring, fa's,
O'er-hung wi' fragrant spreading shaws,
The birks of Aberfeldie.
Bonnie lassie, will ye go...
The hoary cliffs are crown'd wi' flowers,
White o'er the linns the burnie pours,
And, rising, weets wi' misty showers
The birks of Aberfeldie.
Bonnie lassie, will ye go...
Let Fortune's gifts at random flee,
They ne'er shall draw a wish frae me,
Supremely blest wi' love and thee
In the birks of Aberfeldie.
Bonnie lassie, will ye go...
244

Banks O' Doon, The

Banks O' Doon, The
Ye banks and braes o' bonie Doon,
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair?
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae weary fu' o' care!
Thou'll break my heart, thou warbling bird,
That wantons thro' the flowering thorn:
Thou minds me o' departed joys,
Departed never to return.
Aft I rov'd by Bonie Doon,
To see the rose and woodbine twine:
And ilka bird sang o' its luve,
And fondly sae did I o' mine.
Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose,
Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree!
Any my fause luver staw my rose,
But ah! he left the thorn wi' me.
189

Anna

Anna
Yestreen I had a pint o' wine,
A place where body saw na;
Yestreen lay on this breast o' mine
The gowden locks of Anna.
The hungry Jew in wilderness
Rejoicing o'er his manna
Was naething to my hiney bliss
Upon the lips of Anna.
Ye Monarchs take the East and West
Frae Indus to Savannah:
Gie me within my straining grasp
The melting form of Anna!
There I'll despise Imperial charms,
An empress or sultana,
While dying raptures in her arms,
I give an' take wi' Anna!
Awa, thou flaunting God of Day!
Awa, thou pale Diana!
Ilk star, gae hide thy twinkling ray,
When I'm to meet my Anna!
Come, in thy raven plumage, Night
(Sun, Moon, and Stars, withdrawn a')
And bring an Angel-pen to write
My transports with my Anna!
The Kirk an State may join, an tell
To do sic things I maunna:
The Kirk an State may gae to Hell,
And I'll gae to my Anna.
She is the sunshine o' my e'e,
To live but her I canna:
Had I on earth but wishes three,
The first should be my Anna.
276

Auld Farmer's New-Year-Morning Salutation to His Auld Mare, Maggie On

Auld Farmer's New-Year-Morning Salutation to His Auld Mare, Maggie On
giving her the accustomed ripp of corn to hansel in the New-Year, The
A Guide New-year I wish thee, Maggie!
Hae, there's a ripp to thy auld baggie:
Tho' thou's howe-backit now, an' knaggie,
I've seen the day
There could hae gaen like ony staggie,
Out-owre the lay.
Tho' now thou's dowie, stiff an' crazy,
An' thy auld hide as white's a daisie,
I've seen the dappl't, sleek an' glaizie,
A bonie gray:
He should been tight that daur't to raize thee,
Ance in a day.
Thou ance was i' the foremost rank,
A filly buirdly, steeve an' swank;
An' set weel down a shapely shank,
As e'er tread yird;
An' could hae flown out-owre a stank,
Like ony bird.
It's now some nine-an'-twenty year,
Sin' thou was my guid-father's mear;
He gied me thee, o' tocher clear,
An' fifty mark;
Tho' it was sma', 'twas weel-won gear,
An' thou was stark.
When first I gaed to woo my Jenny,
Ye then was trotting wi' your minnie:
Tho' ye was trickie, slee, an funnie,
Ye ne'er was donsie;
But hamely, tawie, quiet, an' cannie,
An' unco sonsie.
That day, ye pranc'd wi' muckle pride,
When ye bure hame my bonie bride:
An' sweet an' gracefu' she did ride,
Wi' maiden air!
Kyle-Stewart I could bragged wide
For sic a pair.
Tho' now ye dow but hoyte and hobble,
An' wintle like a saumont coble,
That day, ye was a jinker noble,
For heels an' win'!
An' ran them till they a' did wauble,
Far, far, behin'!
When thou an' I were young an' skeigh
An' stable-meals at fairs were dreigh,
How thou wad prance, and snore, an' skreigh


An' tak the road!
Town's-bodies ran, an' stood abeigh,
An' ca't thee mad.
When thou was corn't, an' I was mellow,
We took the road aye like a swallow:
At brooses thou had ne'er a fellow,
For pith an' speed;
But ev'ry tail thou pay't them hollow,
Whare'er thou gaed.
The sma', droop-rumpl't, hunter cattle
Might aiblins waurt thee for a brattle;
But sax Scotch mile, thou try't their mettle,
An' gar't them whaizle:
Nae whip nor spur, but just a wattle
O' saugh or hazel.
Thou was a noble fittie-lan',
As e'er in tug or tow was drawn!
Aft thee an' I, in aught hours' gaun,
In guid March-weather,
Hae turn'd sax rood beside our han',
For days thegither.
Thou never braing't, an' fetch't, an' fliskit;
But thy auld tail thou wad hae whiskit,
An' spread abreed thy weel-fill'd brisket,
Wi' pith an' power;
Till sprittie knowes wad rair't an' riskit
An' slypet owre.
When frosts lay lang, an' snaws were deep,
An' threaten'd labour back to keep,
I gied thy cog a wee bit heap
Aboon the timmer:
I ken'd my Maggie wad na sleep,
For that, or simmer.
In cart or car thou never reestit;
The steyest brae thou wad hae fac't it;
Thou never lap, an' sten't, and breastit,
Then stood to blaw;
But just thy step a wee thing hastit,
Thou snoov't awa.
My pleugh is now thy bairn-time a',
Four gallant brutes as e'er did draw;
Forbye sax mae I've sell't awa,
That thou hast nurst:
They drew me thretteen pund an' twa,
The vera warst.


Mony a sair daurk we twa hae wrought,
An' wi' the weary warl' fought!
An' mony an anxious day, I thought
We wad be beat!
Yet here to crazy age we're brought,
Wi' something yet.
An' think na', my auld trusty servan',
That now perhaps thou's less deservin,
An' thy auld days may end in starvin;
For my last fow,
A heapit stimpart, I'll reserve ane
Laid by for you.
We've worn to crazy years thegither;
We'll toyte about wi' ane anither;
Wi' tentie care I'll flit thy tether
To some hain'd rig,
Whare ye may nobly rax your leather,
Wi' sma' fatigue.
297

Ae Fond Kiss, And Then We Sever

Ae Fond Kiss, And Then We Sever
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever;
Ae fareweel, and then for ever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.
Who shall say that Fortune grieves him
While the star of hope she leaves him?
Me, nae cheerful twinkle lights me,
Dark despair around benights me.
I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy;
Naething could resist my Nancy;
But to see her was to love her,
Love but her, and love for ever.
Had we never loved sae kindly,
Had we never loved sae blindly,
Never met -or never parted,
We had ne'er been broken-hearted.
Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest!
Fare thee weel, thou best and dearest!
Thine be ilka joy and treasure,
Peace, enjoyment, love, and pleasure!
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever;
Ae fareweel, alas, for ever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.
220

Again Rejoicing Nature Sees

Again Rejoicing Nature Sees
Again rejoicing nature sees
Her robe assume its vernal hues,
Her leafy looks wave in the breeze,
All freshly steep'd in morning dews.
And maun I still on Menie doat,
And bear the scorn that's in her ee?
For it's jet, jet black, an' it's like a hawk,
An' it winna let a body be!
In vain to me the cowslips blaw,
In vain to me the vi'lets spring;
In vain to me, in glen or shaw,
The mavis and the lintwhite sing.
And maun I still...
The merry ploughboy cheers his team,
Wi' joy the tentie seedsman stalks,
But life to me 's a weary dream,
A dream of ane that never wauks.
And maun I still...
The wanton coot the water skims,
Among the reeds the ducklings cry,
The stately swan majestic swims,
And every thing is blest but I.
And maun I still...
The shepherd steeks his faulding slap,
And owre the moorlands whistles shill,
Wi' wild, unequal, wand'ring step,
I meet him on the dewy hill.
And maun I still...
And when the lark, 'tween light and dark,
Blythe waukens by the daisy's side,
And mounts and sings on fluttering wings,
A woe-worn ghaist I hameward glide.
And maun I still...
Come, Winter, with thine angry howl,
And raging bend the naked tree;
Thy gloom will soothe my cheerless soul,
When Nature all is sad like me!
And maun I still...
236

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