Robert Burns (1759–1796). Poems and Songs.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.
139 . Lines on Meeting with Lord Daer
T
I, Rhymer Robin, alias Burns,
October twenty-third,
Sae far I sprackl’d up the brae, I dinner’d wi’ a Lord. Nay, been bitch-fou ’mang godly priests— Wi’ rev’rence be it spoken!— I’ve even join’d the honour’d jorum, When mighty Squireships of the quorum, Their hydra drouth did sloken. A Lord—a Peer—an Earl’s son! Up higher yet, my bonnet An’ sic a Lord!—lang Scoth ells twa, Our Peerage he o’erlooks them a’, As I look o’er my sonnet. To show Sir Bardie’s willyart glow’r, An’ how he star’d and stammer’d, When, goavin, as if led wi’ branks, An’ stumpin on his ploughman shanks, He in the parlour hammer’d. An’ at his Lordship steal’t a look, Like some portentous omen; Except good sense and social glee, An’ (what surpris’d me) modesty, I markèd nought uncommon. The gentle pride, the lordly state, The arrogant assuming; The fient a pride, nae pride had he, Nor sauce, nor state, that I could see, Mair than an honest ploughman. Henceforth to meet with unconcern One rank as weel’s another; To meet with noble youthful Daer, For he but meets a brother.