Page:The poetical works of Robert Burns.djvu/85
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THE POEMS OF BURNS.
37
A DREAM.
Thoughts, words and deeds, the Statute blames with reason;But surely Dreams were ne'er indicted Treason.
[On reading, in the public papers, the Laureates Ode, with the other parade of June 4, 1786, the author was no sooner dropt asleep, than he imagined himself transported to the Birth-day Levee; and in his dreaming fancy, made the following Address.]
Guid-mornin to your Majesty!May heaven augment your blisses,On ev'ry new birth-day ye see;A humble Bardie wishes!My Bardship here, at your Levee,On sic a day as this is,Is sure an uncouth sight to see,Amang thae Birth-day dressesSae fine this day.
I see ye're complimented thrang,By many a lord an' lady;'God save the King!' 's a cuckoo sangThat's unco easy said ay;The Poets, too, a venal gang,Wi' rhymes weel turn'd and ready,Wad gar you trow ye ne'er do wrang,But ay unerring steady,On sic a day.
For me! before a Monarch's face,Ev'n there I winna flatter;For neither pension, post, nor place,Am I your humble debtor:So, nae reflection on Your Grace,Your Kingship to bespatter;There's monie waur been o' the Race,And aiblins ane been betterThan You this day.
'Tis very true, my sovereign King,My skill may weel be doubted:But Facts are chiels that winna ding,An' downa be disputed:Your Royal nest, beneath your wing,Is e'en right reft an' clouted,And now the third part of the string,An' less, will gang about itThan did ae day.
Far be't frae me that I aspireTo blame your legislation,Or say, ye wisdom want, or fire,To rule this mighty nation;But, faith! I muckle doubt, my Sire,Ye've trusted MinistrationTo chaps, wha, in a barn or byre,Wad better fill'd their stationThan courts yon day.
And now ye've gien auld Britain peace,Her broken shins to plaister;Your sair taxation does her fleeceTill she has scarce a tester;For me, thank God, my life's a leaseNae bargain wearing faster,Or, faith! I fear that with the geese,I shortly boost to pastureI'the craft some day.
I'm no mistrusting Willie Pitt,When taxes he enlarges,(An' Will's a true guid fallow's get,A name not envy spairges,)That he intends to pay your debt,An' lessen a' your charges;But, God's sake! let nae saving-fitAbridge your bonie bargesAn' boats this day.
Adieu, my Liege! may freedom geckBeneath your high protection;An' may Ye rax Corruption's neck,And gie her for dissection!But since I'm here, I'll no neglect,In loyal, true affection,To pay your Queen, with due respect,My fealty an' subjectionThis great Birth-day.