Читать книгу The Complete Works - Роберт Бернс, Robert Burns - Страница 139
THE POETICAL WORKS OF ROBERT BURNS
CXXXVII. IMPROMPTU, ON MRS. R–’S BIRTHDAY
Оглавление[By compliments such as these lines contain, Burns soothed the smart which his verses “On a lady famed for her caprice” inflicted on the accomplished Mrs. Riddel.]
Old Winter, with his frosty beard,
Thus once to Jove his prayer preferr’d,—
What have I done of all the year,
To bear this hated doom severe?
My cheerless suns no pleasure know;
Night’s horrid car drags, dreary, slow:
My dismal months no joys are crowning,
But spleeny English, hanging, drowning.
Now, Jove, for once be mighty civil,
To counterbalance all this evil;
Give me, and I’ve no more to say,
Give me Maria’s natal day!
That brilliant gift shall so enrich me,
Spring, Summer, Autumn, cannot match me;
’Tis done! says Jove; so ends my story,
And Winter once rejoiced in glory.
