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THE POEMS OF BURNS.
17
What signifies his barren shine
Of moral pow'rs an' reason?
His English style, an' gesture fine,
Are a' clean out o' season.
Like Socrates or Antonine,
Or some auld pagan Heathen,
The moral man he does define,
But ne'er a word o' faith in
That's right that day.
Of moral pow'rs an' reason?
His English style, an' gesture fine,
Are a' clean out o' season.
Like Socrates or Antonine,
Or some auld pagan Heathen,
The moral man he does define,
But ne'er a word o' faith in
That's right that day.
In guid time comes an antidote
Against sic poison’d nostrum;
For Peebles, frae the water-fit,
Ascends the holy rostrum:
See, up he's got the word o' God
An' meek an' mim has view'd it,
While Common Sense has ta'en the road,
An' aff, an' up the Cowgate
Fast, fast, that day.
Against sic poison’d nostrum;
For Peebles, frae the water-fit,
Ascends the holy rostrum:
See, up he's got the word o' God
An' meek an' mim has view'd it,
While Common Sense has ta'en the road,
An' aff, an' up the Cowgate
Fast, fast, that day.
Wee Miller, neist, the Guard relieves,
An' Orthodoxy raibles,
Tho' in his heart he weel believes,
An' thinks it auld wives' fables:
But, faith! the birkie wants a Manse,
So, cannilie he hums them;
Altho' his carnal wit an' sense
Like hafflins-wise o'ercomes him
At times that day.
An' Orthodoxy raibles,
Tho' in his heart he weel believes,
An' thinks it auld wives' fables:
But, faith! the birkie wants a Manse,
So, cannilie he hums them;
Altho' his carnal wit an' sense
Like hafflins-wise o'ercomes him
At times that day.
Now, butt an' ben, the Change-house fills,
Wi' yill-caup Commentators:
Here's crying out for bakes an' gills,
An' there the pint-stowp clatters;
While thick an' thrang, an' loud an' lang,
Wi' logic, an' wi' Scripture,
They raise a din, that in the end,
Is like to breed a rupture
O'wrath that day.
Wi' yill-caup Commentators:
Here's crying out for bakes an' gills,
An' there the pint-stowp clatters;
While thick an' thrang, an' loud an' lang,
Wi' logic, an' wi' Scripture,
They raise a din, that in the end,
Is like to breed a rupture
O'wrath that day.
Leeze me on Drink! it gi'es us mair
Than either School or College:
It kindles Wit, it waukens Lair,
It pangs us fou o' Knowledge.
Be't whisky gill, or penny wheep,
Or ony stronger potion,
It never fails, on drinkin' deep.
To kittle up our notion
By night or day.
Than either School or College:
It kindles Wit, it waukens Lair,
It pangs us fou o' Knowledge.
Be't whisky gill, or penny wheep,
Or ony stronger potion,
It never fails, on drinkin' deep.
To kittle up our notion
By night or day.
