Appendix MacPherson's Farewell

Burns Original Sae rantingly, sae wantonly,  Sae dauntingly gaed he,  He play'd a spring, and danc'd it round  Below the gallows-tree.  1. Farewell, ye dungeons dark and strong,  The wretch's destinie!  MacPherson's time will no be long  Below the gallows-tree.  2. O, what is death but parting breath?  On many a bloody plain  I've dar'd his face, and in this place  I scorn him yet again!  3. Untie these bands from off my hands,  And bring to me my sword,  And there's no a man in all Scotland  But I'll brave him at a word.  4. I've liv'd a life of sturt and strife;  I die by treacherie:  It burns my heart I must depart,  And not avenged be.  5. Now farewell light, thou sunshine bright,  And all beneath the sky!  May coward shame distain his name,  The wretch that dare not die!

Standard English Translation So rantingly, so wantonly, So dauntingly went he, He played a spring, and danced it round Below the gallows-tree. Farewell, you dungeons dark and strong, The wretch's destiny! MacPherson's time will not be long Below the gallows-tree. O, what is death but parting breath? On many a bloody plain I have dared his face, and in this place I scorn him yet again! Untie these bands from off my hands, And bring to me my sword, And there is not a man in all Scotland But I will brave him at a word. I have lived a life of trouble and strife; I die by treachery: It burns my heart I must depart, And not avenged be. Now farewell light, you sunshine bright, And all beneath the sky! May coward shame disdain his name, The wretch that dare not die!

МАКФЕРСОН ПЕРЕД КАЗНЬЮ

Так весело,

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Шел к виселице он.

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- Привет вам, тюрьмы короля,

Где жизнь влачат рабы!

Меня сегодня ждет петля

И гладкие столбы.

В полях войны среди мечей

Встречал я смерть не раз,

Но не дрожал я перед ней -

Не дрогну и сейчас!

Разбейте сталь моих оков,

Верните мой доспех.

Пусть выйдет десять смельчаков,

Я одолею всех.

Я жизнь свою провел в бою,

Умру не от меча.

Изменник предал жизнь мою

Веревке палача.

И перед смертью об одном

Душа моя грустит,

Что за меня в краю родном

Никто не отомстит.

Прости, мой край! Весь мир, прощай!

Меня поймали в сеть.

Но жалок тот, кто смерти ждет,

Не смея умереть!

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Шел к виселице он.

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Is There For Honest Poverty

Burns Original

Is there for honest poverty

That hings his head, an' a' that?

The coward slave, we pass him by --

We dare be poor for a' that!

For a' that, an' a' that,

Our toils obscure, an' a' that,

The rank is but the guinea's stamp,

The man's the gowd for a' that.

What though on hamely fare we dine,

Wear hoddin grey, an' a' that?

Gie fools their silks and knaves their wine --

A man's a man for a' that.

For a' that, an' a' that,

Their tinsel show, an' a' that,

The honest man, tho' e'er sae poor,