A Bard's Epitaph

Listen to: 

A Bard's Epitaph (1:43)

by Robert Burns 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

Is there a whim-inspired fool,


Owre* fast for thought, owre hot for rule,  *over (o’er)

Owre blate* to seek, owre proud to snool˚,  *timid     ˚cringe, cower

Let him draw near;


And owre this grassy heap sing dool*,    *grief

And drap a tear. 

Is there a bard of rustic song,


Who, noteless, steals the crowds among, 

That weekly this area throng,
O, pass not by! 

But, with a frater-feeling strong, 

Here, heave a sigh. 

Is there a man, whose judgment clear 

Can others teach the course to steer, 

Yet runs, himself, life's mad career, 

Wild as the wave, 

Here pause—and, thro' the starting tear, 

Survey this grave. 

The poor inhabitant below


Was quick to learn the wise to know, 

And keenly felt the friendly glow, 

And softer flame;


But thoughtless follies laid him low, 

And stain'd his name! 

Reader, attend! whether thy soul 

Soars fancy's flights beyond the pole, 

Or darkling grubs this earthly hole, 

In low pursuit:
Know, prudent, cautious, self-control 

Is wisdom's root.