| 1. |
| Edina! Scotia’s darling seat! |
| All hail thy
palaces and tow’rs, |
| Where once, beneath a Monarch’s feet, |
| Sat Legislation’s
sov’reign pow’rs : |
| From marking
wildly-scatt’red flow’rs, |
| As on the banks of Ayr I stray’d, |
| And singing, lone,
the ling’ring hours, |
I shelter in thy honor’d shade.
|
| 2. |
| Here Wealth still swells the golden tide, |
| As busy Trade his
labours plies ; |
| There Architecture’s noble pride |
| Bids elegance and
splendour rise : |
| Here Justice, from
her native skies, |
| High wields her balance and her rod ; |
| There Learning,
with his eagle eyes, |
Seeks Science in her coy abode.
|
| 3. |
| Thy sons, Edina, social, kind, |
| With open arms the
stranger hail ; |
| Their views enlarg’d, their lib’ral mind, |
| Above the narrow,
rural vale ; |
| Attentive still to
Sorrow’s wail, |
| Or modest Merit’s silent claim : |
| And never may
their sources fail! |
And never Envy blot their name!
|
| 4. |
| Thy daughters bright thy walks adorn, |
| Gay as the gilded
summer sky, |
| Sweet as the dewy, milk-white thorn, |
| Dear as the
raptur’d thrill of joy! |
| Fair Burnet
strikes th’ adoring eye, |
| Heav’n’s beauties on my fancy shine : |
| I see the Sire of
Love on high, |
And own His work indeed divine!
|
| 5. |
| There, watching high the least alarms, |
| Thy rough, rude
fortress gleams afar ; |
| Like some bold vet’ran, grey in arms, |
| And mark’d with
many a seamy scar : |
| The pond’rous wall
and massy bar, |
| Grim-rising o’er the rugged rock, |
| Have oft
withstood assailing war, |
And oft repell’d th’ invader’s shock.
|
| 6. |
| With awe-stuck thought and pitying tears, |
| I view that noble,
stately dome, |
| Where Scotia’s kings of other years, |
| Fam’d heroes! had
their royal home : |
| Alas, how chang’d
the times to come! |
| Their royal name low in the dust! |
| Their haplesss
race wild-wand’ring roam! |
Tho’ rigid Law cries out: ‘’Twas just!’
|
| 7. |
| Wild beats my heart to trace your steps, |
| Whose ancestors,
in days of yore, |
| Thro’hostile ranks and ruin’d gaps |
| Old Scotia’s
bloody lion bore: |
| Ev’n I, who sing
in rustic lore, |
| Haply my sires have left their shed, |
| And fac’d
grim Danger’s loudest roar, |
Bold-following where your fathers led!
|
| 8. |
| Edine! Scotia’s darling seat! |
| All hail thy
palaces and tow’rs ; |
| Where once, beneath a Monarch’s feet, |
| Sat Legislation’s
sov’reign pow’rs : |
| From marking
wildly-scatt’red flow’rs, |
| As on the banks of Ayr I stray’d, |
| And singing,
lone, the ling’ring hours, |
I shelter in thy honour’d shade.
|
| Robert Burns
| Classic Poems |
| |
|
[ A Red, Red Rose ] [ To a Mountain Daisy ] [ Address to a Haggis ] [ Address to Edinburgh ] [ Auld Lang Syne ] [ Is there for Honest Poverty ] [ Address to the Unco Guid ] [ The Cotter's Saturday Night ] [ To a Louse ] [ My Heart's in the Highlands ] [ Holy Willie's Prayer ] [ Tam O'Shanter ] [ To a Mouse ] |
