The works of Allan Ramsay edited by Burns Martin ... and John W. Oliver [... and Alexander M. Kinghorn ... and Alexander Law] |
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 | The works of Allan Ramsay |  |
THE Eagle and Robin Red-breist
The Prince of all the fethert Kynd,That with spred Wings out fleis the Wind,
And tours far out of humane Sicht
To view the schynand Orb of Licht:
This Ryall Bird, tho braif and great,
And armit strang for stern Debait,
Nae Tyrant is but condescends
Aftymes to treit inferiour Friends.
Ane Day at his Command did flock
To his hie Palace on a Rock,
The Courtiers of ilk various Syze
That swiftly swim in Christal Skyis;
96
And heir rapacious Corbies croup,
With greidy Gleds and slie Gormahs,
And dinsome Pyis and clatterin Daws;
Proud Pecocks, and a hundred mae,
Bruscht up thair Pens that solemn Day,
Bowd first submissive to my Lord,
Then tuke thair Places at his Borde.
Mein Tyme quhyle feisting on a Fawn,
And drinking Blude frae Lamies drawn,
A tunefull Robin trig and zung,
Hard by upon a Bour-tree sung.
He sang the Eagles Ryall Lyne,
His persing Ee and Richt divyne,
To sway out-owre the fetherit Thrang,
Quha dreid his martial Bill and sang:
His Flicht sublime, and Eild renewit,
His Mynd with Clemencie endewit;
In safter Notes he sang his Luve,
Mair hie his beiring Bolts for Jove.
The Monarch Bird with Blythness hard
The chaunting litil Silvan Bard,
Calit up a Buzart, quha was than
His Favourite and Chamberlane.
Swith to my Treasury, quod he,
And to zon canty Robin gie
As mekle of our currant Geir
As may mentain him throw the Zeir;
We can weil spairt, and its his Due,
He bad, and furth the Judas flew,
Straight to the Brench quhair Robin sung,
And with a wickit lieand Tung,
Said, Ah! ze sing sae dull and ruch,
Ze haif deivt our Lugs mair than enuch,
His Majestie hes a nyse Eir,
And nae mair of zour Stuff can beir;
Poke up zour Pypes, be nae mair sene
At Court, I warn ze as a Frein.
The chaunting litil Silvan Bard,
Calit up a Buzart, quha was than
His Favourite and Chamberlane.
Swith to my Treasury, quod he,
And to zon canty Robin gie
As mekle of our currant Geir
As may mentain him throw the Zeir;
We can weil spairt, and its his Due,
He bad, and furth the Judas flew,
Straight to the Brench quhair Robin sung,
And with a wickit lieand Tung,
Said, Ah! ze sing sae dull and ruch,
Ze haif deivt our Lugs mair than enuch,
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And nae mair of zour Stuff can beir;
Poke up zour Pypes, be nae mair sene
At Court, I warn ze as a Frein.
He spak, quhyle Robinis swelling Breist,
And drouping Wings his Greif,
The Teirs ran happing doun his Cheik,
Grit grew his Hairt, he could nocht speik,
No for the Tinsell of Rewaird,
But that his Notis met nae Regaird;
Straicht to the Schaw he spred his Wing,
Resolvit again nae mair to sing,
Quhair Princelie Bountie is supprest,
By sic with quhome they are opprest,
Quha cannot beir (because they want it)
That ocht suld be to Merit grantit.
And drouping Wings his Greif,
The Teirs ran happing doun his Cheik,
Grit grew his Hairt, he could nocht speik,
No for the Tinsell of Rewaird,
But that his Notis met nae Regaird;
Straicht to the Schaw he spred his Wing,
Resolvit again nae mair to sing,
Quhair Princelie Bountie is supprest,
By sic with quhome they are opprest,
Quha cannot beir (because they want it)
That ocht suld be to Merit grantit.
Quod Ar. Scot.
| The works of Allan Ramsay | |