The Poetical Works of Robert Burns/Address to Edinburgh
ADDRESS TO EDINBURGH.
Edina! Scotia's darling seat!All hail thy palaces and tow'rs,Where once beneath a monarch's feetSat Legislation's sov'reign pow'rs!From marking wildly-scatter'd flow'rs,As on the banks of Ayr I stray'd,And singing, lone, the ling'ring hours,I shelter in thy honour'd shade.
Here wealth still swells the golden tide,As busy trade his labours plies;There architecture's noble prideBids elegance and splendour rise;Here justice, from her native skies,High wields her balance and her rod;There learning, with his eagle eyes,Seeks science in her coy abode.
Thy Sons, Edina, social, kind,With open arms the stranger hail;Their views enlarg'd, their lib'ral mind,Above the narrow, rural vale;Attentive still to sorrow's wail,Or modest merit's silent claim:And never may their sources fail!And never envy blot their name!
Thy daughters bright thy walks adorn,Gay as the gilded summer sky,Sweet as the dewy milk-white thorn,Dear as the raptur'd thrill of joy!Fair Burnet strikes th' adoring eye,Heaven's beauties on my fancy shine;I see the Sire of Love on high,And own his work indeed divine!
There watching high the least alarms,Thy rough, rude fortress gleams afar;Like some bold vet'ran, gray in arms,And mark'd with many a seamy scar:The pond'rous wall and massy bar,Grim-rising o'er the rugged rock,Have oft withstood assailing war,And oft repell'd th' invader's shock.
With awe-struck thought, and pitying tears,I view that noble, stately dome,Where Scotia's kings of other years,Fam'd heroes, had their royal home:Alas how changed the times to come!Their royal name low in the dust!Their hapless race wild-wand'ring roam!Tho' rigid law cries out, 'twas just!
Wild beats my heart, to trace your steps,Whose ancestors, in days of yore,Thro' hostile ranks and ruin'd gapsOld Scotia's bloody lion bore:Ev'n I who sing in rustic lore,Haply my sires have left their shed,And fac'd grim danger's loudest roar,Bold-following where your fathers led!
Edina! Scotia's darling seat!All hail thy palaces and tow'rs,Where once beneath a monarch's feetSat Legislation's sov'reign pow'rs!From marking wildly-scatter'd flow'rs,As on the banks of Ayr I stray'd,And singing, lone, the ling'ring hours,I shelter in thy honour'd shade.