The Poetry of Robert Burns :: :: University of Virginia Library

Reverèd defender of beauteous Stuart,
Of Stuart!—a name once respected,
A name which to love was once mark of a true heart,
But now 'tis despis'd and neglected!

II

Tho' something like moisture conglobes in my eye—
Let no one misdeem me disloyal!
A poor friendless wand'rer may well claim a sigh—
Still more, if that wand'rer were royal.

III

My Fathers that name have rever'd on a throne;
My Fathers have fallen to right it:
Those Fathers would spurn their degenerate son,
That name, should he scoffingly slight it.

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IV

Still in prayers for King George I most heartily join,
The Queen, and the rest of the gentry;
Be they wise, be they foolish, is nothing of mine:
Their title's avow'd by my country.

V

But why of that epocha make such a fuss
That gave us the Hanover stem?
If bringing them over was lucky for us,
I'm sure 'twas as lucky for them.

VI

But loyalty—truce! we're on dangerous ground:
Who knows how the fashions may alter?
The doctrine, to-day that is loyalty sound,
To-morrow may bring us a halter!

VII

I send you a trifle, a head of a Bard,
A trifle scarce worthy your care;
But accept it, good Sir, as a mark of regard,
Sincere as a saint's dying prayer.

VIII

Now Life's chilly evening dim-shades on your eye,
And ushers the long dreary night;
But you, like the star that athwart gilds the sky,
Your course to the latest is bright.