Untie these bands from off my hands,

And bring to me my sword!

And there's no a man in all Scotland,
But I'll brave him at a word.

I've lived a life of sturt and strife;
I die by treacherie :

It burns my heart I must depart
And not avengèd be.

Now farewell light, thou sunshine bright,
And all beneath the sky!

May coward shame distain his name,

The wretch that dares not die!

Sae rantingly, sae wantonly,

Sae dauntingly gaed he;

He played a spring and danced it round,
Below the gallows tree.

XLIII

THE GOAL OF LIFE

SHOULD auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to min'?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

And days o' lang syne?

For auld lang syne, my dear,

For auld lang syne,

We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet

For auld lang syne.

And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp,
And surely I'll be mine;

And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet
For auld lang syne.

We twa hae run about the braes,
And pu'd the gowans fine;

But we've wandered mony a weary foot

Sin' auld lang syne.

We twa hae paidled i' the burn
From mornin' sun till dine;

But seas between us braid hae roared
Sin' auld lang syne.

And here's a hand, my trusty fiere,
And gie's a hand o' thine;

And we'll tak a right guid-willie waught

For auld lang syne.

For auld lang syne, my dear,

For auld lang syne,

We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet
For auld lang syne.

XLIV

BEFORE PARTING

Go fetch to me a pint o' wine,
An' fill it in a silver tassie;
That I may drink before I go
A service to my bonnie lassie.

The boat rocks at the pier o' Leith,
Fu' loud the wind blaws frae the ferry,
The ship rides by the Berwick-law,

And I maun leave my bonnie Mary.

The trumpets sound, the banners fly,
The glittering spears are rankèd ready,
The shouts o' war are heard afar,

The battle closes thick and bloody;
But it's no the roar o' sea or shore
Wad mak me langer wish to tarry,
Nor shout o' war that's heard afar,
It's leaving thee, my bonnie Mary.

XLV

DEVOTION

O MARY, at thy window be,

It is the wished, the trysted hour! Those smiles and glances let me see, That mak the miser's treasure poor. How blythely wad I bide the stoure, A weary slave frae sun to sun,

Could I the rich reward secure,
The lovely Mary Morison !

Yestreen, when to the trembling string
The dance gaed through the lighted ha',

To thee my fancy took its wing,

I sat, but neither heard or saw:

Tho' this was fair, and that was braw, yon the toast of a' the toun,

And

I sighed, and said amang them a', 'Ye are na Mary Morison.'

O Mary, canst thou wreck his peace,
Wha for thy sake wad gladly die?
Or canst thou break that heart of his
Whase only faut is loving thee?
If love for love thou wilt na gie,
At least be pity to me shown!
A thought ungentle canna be
The thought o' Mary Morison.

XLVI

TRUE UNTIL DEATH

It was a' for our rightfu' King,
We left fair Scotland's strand;
It was a' for our rightfu' King
We e'er saw Irish land,
My dear,

We e'er saw Irish land.

Now a' is done that men can do,

And a' is done in vain;

My love and native land farewell,

For I maun cross the main,
My dear,

For I maun cross the main.

He turned him right and round about
Upon the Irish shore;

And gae his bridle-reins a shake,

With adieu for evermore,

My dear,

Adieu for evermore.

The sodger from the wars returns,
The sailor frae the main;
But I hae parted frae my love,
Never to meet again,

My dear,

Never to meet again.

When day is gane, and night is come,
And a' folk bound to sleep;

I think on him that's far awa,
The lee-lang night, and weep,
My dear,

The lee-lang night, and weep.

XLVII

Burns.

VENICE

ONCE did She hold the gorgeous East in fee
And was the safeguard of the West: the worth
Of Venice did not fall below her birth,
Venice, the eldest Child of Liberty.
She was a maiden City, bright and free;
No guile seduced, no force could violate;
And, when she took unto herself a Mate,