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Poem by Robert Burns

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I BURN, I burn, as when thro ripend corn
By driving winds the crackling flames are borne.
Now raving-wild, I curse that fatal night;
Now bless the hour which charmd my guilty sight.
In vain the laws their feeble force oppose:
Chaind at his feet they groan, Loves vanquishd foes;
In vain religion meets my sinking eye;
I dare not combat-but I turn and fly;
Conscience in vain upbraids th unhallowd fire;
Love grasps his scorpions-stifled they expire!
Reason drops headlong from his sacred throne,
Your dear idea reigns and reigns alone:
Each thought intoxicated homage yields,
And riots wanton in forbidden fields!

  By all on high adoring mortals know!
By all the conscious villain fears below!
By your dear self!-the last great oath I swear;
Nor life nor soul were ever half so dear!

Robert Burns

Robert Burns's other poems:
  1. Epitaph on Wee Johnny
  2. The Cairds Second Song
  3. The Sailors Song
  4. Had I The Wyte
  5. Evan Banks

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