罗伯特·彭斯

在这里你会发现长诗一个奉献诗人罗伯特·彭斯

一个奉献

先生,在这段叙述中,你可以期待,一段充满激情的,充满激情的奉献,让你振作起来,你能引导我吗,然后你就会变成伟大而高贵的蓝色,因为你的名字就像陛下一样——也许与种族有关:然后,当我累了——你也很安全,我就会变成一个令人讨厌的,罪恶的谎言,摆出一副我停下来的样子,怕你的谦虚受到伤害。这也许会——也许会——也许会,先生,跟他们一起做也许会暂时取悦大人物的事;对我来说!我不需要犁地,因为,感谢上帝,我会犁地;当我放下枷锁的时候,感谢主,我可以乞求;我要说的是——那是我的名字——就是诗人和赞助人。诗人,某个指引他的天使会帮助他,否则,我担心,某个天使会把他干掉!他可能会做得很好,因为他已经完成了,但他还不是刚刚开始。船长(先生,请原谅我;不管发生什么事,我都要撒谎,无论如何,他的名字比他应该有的要好。 I readily and freely grant, He downa see a poor man want; What's no his ain, he winna tak it; What ance he says, he winna break it; Ought he can lend he'll no refus't, Till aft his guidness is abus'd; And rascals whiles that do him wrang, Ev'n that, he does na mind it lang; As master, landlord, husband, father, He does na fail his part in either. But then, nae thanks to him for a'that; Nae godly symptom ye can ca' that; It's naething but a milder feature Of our poor, sinfu' corrupt nature: Ye'll get the best o' moral works, 'Mang black Gentoos, and pagan Turks, Or hunters wild on Ponotaxi, Wha never heard of orthodoxy. That he's the poor man's friend in need, The gentleman in word and deed, It's no thro' terror of damnation; It's just a carnal inclination. Morality, thou deadly bane, Thy tens o' thousands thou hast slain! Vain is his hope, whase stay an' trust is In moral mercy, truth, and justice! No-stretch a point to catch a plack: Abuse a brother to his back; Steal through the winnock frae a whore, But point the rake that taks the door; Be to the poor like ony whunstane, And haud their noses to the grunstane; Ply ev'ry art o' legal thieving; No matter-stick to sound believing. Learn three-mile pray'rs, an' half-mile graces, Wi' weel-spread looves, an' lang, wry faces; Grunt up a solemn, lengthen'd groan, And damn a' parties but your own; I'll warrant they ye're nae deceiver, A steady, sturdy, staunch believer. O ye wha leave the springs o' Calvin, For gumlie dubs of your ain delvin! Ye sons of Heresy and Error, Ye'll some day squeel in quaking terror, When Vengeance draws the sword in wrath. And in the fire throws the sheath; When Ruin, with his sweeping besom, Just frets till Heav'n commission gies him; While o'er the harp pale Misery moans, And strikes the ever-deep'ning tones, Still louder shrieks, and heavier groans! Your pardon, sir, for this digression: I maist forgat my Dedication; But when divinity comes 'cross me, My readers still are sure to lose me. So, sir, you see 'twas nae daft vapour; But I maturely thought it proper, When a' my works I did review, To dedicate them, sir, to you: Because (ye need na tak it ill), I thought them something like yoursel'. Then patronize them wi' your favor, And your petitioner shall ever- I had amaist said, ever pray, But that's a word I need na say; For prayin, I hae little skill o't, I'm baith dead-sweer, an' wretched ill o't; But I'se repeat each poor man's pray'r, That kens or hears about you, sir- "May ne'er Misfortune's gowling bark, Howl thro' the dwelling o' the clerk! May ne'er his genrous, honest heart, For that same gen'rous spirit smart! May Kennedy's far-honour'd name Lang beet his hymeneal flame, Till Hamiltons, at least a dizzen, Are frae their nuptial labours risen: Five bonie lasses round their table, And sev'n braw fellows, stout an' able, To serve their king an' country weel, By word, or pen, or pointed steel! May health and peace, with mutual rays, Shine on the ev'ning o' his days; Till his wee, curlie John's ier-oe, When ebbing life nae mair shall flow, The last, sad, mournful rites bestow!" I will not wind a lang conclusion, With complimentary effusion; But, whilst your wishes and endeavours Are blest with Fortune's smiles and favours, I am, dear sir, with zeal most fervent, Your much indebted, humble servant. But if (which Pow'rs above prevent) That iron-hearted carl, Want, Attended, in his grim advances, By sad mistakes, and black mischances, While hopes, and joys, and pleasures fly him,