66

A FAREWELL TO ARMS

(TO QUEEN ELIZABETH)

His golden locks Time hath to silver turn'd;
O Time too swift, O swiftness never ceasing!
His youth 'gainst time and age hath ever

spurn'd,

But spurn'd in vain; youth waneth by

increasing:

Beauty, strength, youth, are flowers but fading

seen;

Duty, faith, love, are roots, and ever green.

6

His helmet now shall make a hive for bees,
And, lovers' sonnets turn'd to holy psalms,
A man-at-arms must now serve on his knees,
And feed on prayers, which are Age his alms:
But though from court to cottage he depart,
His Saint is sure of his unspotted heart.

And when he saddest sits in homely cell,

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He'll teach his swains this carol for a song,Blest be the hearts that wish my sovereign well, Curst be the souls that think her any wrong." Goddess, allow this agèd man his right To be your beadsman now that was your

knight.

18

1590.

George Peele.

LXXXIII

TO LUCASTA, ON GOING TO THE

WARS

1649.

TELL me not, Sweet, I am unkind,

That from the nunnery

Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind
To war and arms I fly.

True, a new mistress now I chase,

4

The first foe in the field;

And with a stronger faith embrace

A sword, a horse, a shield.

Yet this inconstancy is such

As you too shall adore;

I could not love thee, Dear, so much,
Loved I not Honour more.

8

12

Richard Lovelace.

BANNOCKBURN

SCOTS, wha hae wi' Wallace bled,
Scots, wham Bruce has aften led;
Welcome to your gory bed,

Or to victorie!

1794.

A Farewell

Now's the day, and now 's the hour:
See the front o' battle lour,

See approach proud Edward's power,—
Chains and slaverie!

Wha will be a traitor knave?
Wha can fill a coward's grave?
Wha sae base as be a slave?
Let him turn and flee!

Wha for Scotland's king and law
Freedom's sword will strongly draw,
Freeman stand, or freeman fa',

Let him follow me!

By Oppression's woes and pains,
By your sons in servile chains,
We will drain our dearest veins,
But they shall be free!

Lay the proud usurpers low!
Tyrants fall in every foe!

Liberty's in every blow!
Let us do, or die!

8

12

16

20

24

Robert Burns.

A FAREWELL

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

1790.

The boat rocks at the pier of 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 deep and bloody;
It's not the roar o' sea or shore
Wad make me langer wish to tarry;
Nor shouts o' war that 's heard afar:
It's leaving thee, my bonnie Mary.

Robert Burns.

16

8

"IT WAS A' FOR OUR RIGHTFU’

KING"

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.

6

12

1796.

Pibroch of Donald Dhu

He turn'd him right and round about
Upon the Irish shore;

And gae his bridle-reins a shake,
With, Adieu for evermore,

My dear

And, Adieu for evermore!

The sodger frae 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.

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24

30

Robert Burns.

PIBROCH OF DONALD DHU

PIBROCH of Donuil Dhu,

Pibroch of Donuil,
Wake thy wild voice anew,
Summon Clan Conuil.
Come away, come away,
Hark to the summons!
Come in your war array,
Gentles and commons.