If you've been reading the Chronicles for a couple years, you'll remember that the last Saturday in January is the annual celebration of Bobby Burns' birthday, in Miles City. And tomorrow, you'll get a more complete post of the actual celebration...it's incredible!
Robert Burns is THE Scottish poet. I'm not sure there is another, really.
My Gramps really loved his poetry, and I remember him reading one or two aloud to us, when we were kids. They made absolutely no sense, whatsoever, because Burns wrote as he spoke, and anyone who has listened to a Scottish burr will affirm that even though it's English, it's completely incomprehensible to the average bear.
So every year, I try to post a Burns poem on this weekend. I appreciate his dry wit, his attention to detail and personality quirks, his great respect for the natural elements. The following poem is tragic, as many of his are, but it's one of my favorites and not just because of the title!
Highland Mary by Robert Burns (1759-1796)
Ye banks and braes and streams around
The castle o' Montgomery,
Green be your woods, and fair your flowers,
Your waters never drumlie!
There simmer first unfauld her robes,
And there the langest tarry;
For there I took the last fareweel
O' my sweet Highland Mary.
How sweetly bloomed the gay green birk,
How rich the hawthorn's blossom,
As underneath their fragrant shade
I clasped her to my bosom!
The golden hours on angel wings
Flew o'er me and my dearie;
For dear to me as light and life
Was my sweet Highland Mary.
Wi' mony a vow and locked embrace
Our parting was fu' tender;
And, pledging aft to meet again,
We tore oursels asunder;
But, O, fell Death's untimely frost,
That nipt my flower sae early!
Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay,
That wraps my Highland Mary!
O pale, pale now, those rosy lips
I aft hae kissed sae fondly;
And closed for aye the sparkling glance
That dwelt on me sae kindly;
And mouldering now in silent dust
That heart that lo'ed me dearly!
But still within my bosom's core
Shall live my Highland Mary.
4 comments:
Beautiful poem, Mary -- I felt like reading a language just barely comprehensible, but the emotion came through loud and clear. I can't wait to share this with my very Scottish friend, Heather, whose brother Scott (no coincidence with their names) lives in Edinburgh. I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall at the birthday celebration.
Well, I WANTED to check the 'enlightening' box, but just couldn't bring myself to do it since I have no idea what in the world ol' BubbyB is talking about.
Can you giveth us the NIV version?
Shelly, some year you'll have to come to MT in January and go to Burns! I think they've determined that this celebration is the second largest in the nation...and we have the VERY best Caledonian band. Period. Our lead bagpiper gets asked for autographs!
Anonymous, the gist of the poem is this:
In the early part of the summer, I held my sweetheart and told her goodbye, promising to meet again soon. But she died and now all I have are the memories. The End.
The poem is actually based on one of Burns' MANY love affairs...apparently men who can write like that are very popular with the ladies. Him and George Strait....
:)
Oh. And here I thought the guy took down a whole jar of jalepenos and was having issues with the mouldering in his bosom's core and the fire in his fu'tender. I reread it and I think the part about the "fragrant shade" was what threw me.
Thanks for lining me out!
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