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Best Famous Strenuously Poems

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Written by Robert Burns | Create an image from this poem

89. The Ordination

 KILMARNOCK wabsters, fidge an’ claw,
 An’ pour your creeshie nations;
An’ ye wha leather rax an’ draw,
 Of a’ denominations;
Swith to the Ligh Kirk, ane an’ a’
 An’ there tak up your stations;
Then aff to Begbie’s in a raw,
 An’ pour divine libations
 For joy this day.


Curst Common-sense, that imp o’ hell,
 Cam in wi’ Maggie Lauder; 1
But Oliphant 2 aft made her yell,
 An’ Russell 3 sair misca’d her:
This day Mackinlay 4 taks the flail,
 An’ he’s the boy will blaud her!
He’ll clap a shangan on her tail,
 An’ set the bairns to daud her
 Wi’ dirt this day.


Mak haste an’ turn King David owre,
 And lilt wi’ holy clangor;
O’ double verse come gie us four,
 An’ skirl up the Bangor:
This day the kirk kicks up a stoure;
 Nae mair the knaves shall wrang her,
For Heresy is in her pow’r,
 And gloriously she’ll whang her
 Wi’ pith this day.


Come, let a proper text be read,
 An’ touch it aff wi’ vigour,
How graceless Ham 5 leugh at his dad,
 Which made Canaan a ******;
Or Phineas 6 drove the murdering blade,
 Wi’ whore-abhorring rigour;
Or Zipporah, 7 the scauldin jad,
 Was like a bluidy tiger
 I’ th’ inn that day.


There, try his mettle on the creed,
 An’ bind him down wi’ caution,
That stipend is a carnal weed
 He taks by for the fashion;
And gie him o’er the flock, to feed,
 And punish each transgression;
Especial, rams that cross the breed,
 Gie them sufficient threshin;
 Spare them nae day.


Now, auld Kilmarnock, cock thy tail,
 An’ toss thy horns fu’ canty;
Nae mair thou’lt rowt out-owre the dale,
 Because thy pasture’s scanty;
For lapfu’s large o’ gospel kail
 Shall fill thy crib in plenty,
An’ runts o’ grace the pick an’ wale,
 No gi’en by way o’ dainty,
 But ilka day.


Nae mair by Babel’s streams we’ll weep,
 To think upon our Zion;
And hing our fiddles up to sleep,
 Like baby-clouts a-dryin!
Come, screw the pegs wi’ tunefu’ cheep,
 And o’er the thairms be tryin;
Oh, rare to see our elbucks wheep,
 And a’ like lamb-tails flyin
 Fu’ fast this day.


Lang, Patronage, with rod o’ airn,
 Has shor’d the Kirk’s undoin;
As lately Fenwick, sair forfairn,
 Has proven to its ruin: 8
Our patron, honest man! Glencairn,
 He saw mischief was brewin;
An’ like a godly, elect bairn,
 He’s waled us out a true ane,
 And sound, this day.


Now Robertson 9 harangue nae mair,
 But steek your gab for ever;
Or try the wicked town of Ayr,
 For there they’ll think you clever;
Or, nae reflection on your lear,
 Ye may commence a shaver;
Or to the Netherton 10 repair,
 An’ turn a carpet weaver
 Aff-hand this day.


Mu’trie 11 and you were just a match,
 We never had sic twa drones;
Auld Hornie did the Laigh Kirk watch,
 Just like a winkin baudrons,
And aye he catch’d the tither wretch,
 To fry them in his caudrons;
But now his Honour maun detach,
 Wi’ a’ his brimstone squadrons,
 Fast, fast this day.


See, see auld Orthodoxy’s faes
 She’s swingein thro’ the city!
Hark, how the nine-tail’d cat she plays!
 I vow it’s unco pretty:
There, Learning, with his Greekish face,
 Grunts out some Latin ditty;
And Common-sense is gaun, she says,
 To mak to Jamie Beattie
 Her plaint this day.


But there’s Morality himsel’,
 Embracing all opinions;
Hear, how he gies the tither yell,
 Between his twa companions!
See, how she peels the skin an’ fell,
 As ane were peelin onions!
Now there, they’re packed aff to hell,
 An’ banish’d our dominions,
 Henceforth this day.


O happy day! rejoice, rejoice!
 Come bouse about the porter!
Morality’s demure decoys
 Shall here nae mair find quarter:
Mackinlay, Russell, are the boys
 That heresy can torture;
They’ll gie her on a rape a hoyse,
 And cowe her measure shorter
 By th’ head some day.


Come, bring the tither mutchkin in,
 And here’s—for a conclusion—
To ev’ry New Light 12 mother’s son,
 From this time forth, Confusion!
If mair they deave us wi’ their din,
 Or Patronage intrusion,
We’ll light a *****, and ev’ry skin,
 We’ll rin them aff in fusion
 Like oil, some day.


 Note 1. Alluding to a scoffing ballad which was made on the admission of the late reverend and worthy Mr. Lihdsay to the “Laigh Kirk.”—R. B. [back]
Note 2. Rev. James Oliphant, minister of Chapel of Ease, Kilmarnock. [back]
Note 3. Rev. John Russell of Kilmarnock. [back]
Note 4. Rev. James Mackinlay. [back]
Note 5. Genesis ix. 22.—R. B. [back]
Note 6. Numbers xxv. 8.—R. B. [back]
Note 7. Exodus iv. 52.—R. B. [back]
Note 8. Rev. Wm. Boyd, pastor of Fenwick. [back]
Note 9. Rev. John Robertson. [back]
Note 10. A district of Kilmarnock. [back]
Note 11. The Rev. John Multrie, a “Moderate,” whom Mackinlay succeeded. [back]
Note 12. “New Light” is a cant phrase in the west of Scotland for those religious opinions which Dr. Taylor of Norwich has so strenuously defended.—R. B. [back]


Written by Robert Browning | Create an image from this poem

The Confessional

 [SPAIN.]

I.

It is a lie---their Priests, their Pope,
Their Saints, their ... all they fear or hope
Are lies, and lies---there! through my door
And ceiling, there! and walls and floor,
There, lies, they lie---shall still be hurled
Till spite of them I reach the world!

II.

You think Priests just and holy men!
Before they put me in this den
I was a human creature too,
With flesh and blood like one of you,
A girl that laughed in beauty's pride
Like lilies in your world outside.

III.

I had a lover---shame avaunt!
This poor wrenched body, grim and gaunt,
Was kissed all over till it burned,
By lips the truest, love e'er turned
His heart's own tint: one night they kissed
My soul out in a burning mist.

IV.

So, next day when the accustomed train
Of things grew round my sense again,
``That is a sin,'' I said: and slow
With downcast eyes to church I go,
And pass to the confession-chair,
And tell the old mild father there.

V.

But when I falter Beltran's name,
``Ha?'' quoth the father; ``much I blame
``The sin; yet wherefore idly grieve?
``Despair not---strenuously retrieve!
``Nay, I will turn this love of thine
``To lawful love, almost divine;

VI.

``For he is young, and led astray,
``This Beltran, and he schemes, men say,
``To change the laws of church and state
``So, thine shall be an angel's fate,
``Who, ere the thunder breaks, should roll
``Its cloud away and save his soul.

VII.

``For, when he lies upon thy breast,
``Thou mayst demand and be possessed
``Of all his plans, and next day steal
``To me, and all those plans reveal,
``That I and every priest, to purge
``His soul, may fast and use the scourge.''

VIII.

That father's beard was long and white,
With love and truth his brow seemed bright;
I went back, all on fire with joy,
And, that same evening, bade the boy
Tell me, as lovers should, heart-free,
Something to prove his love of me.

IX.

He told me what he would not tell
For hope of heaven or fear of hell;
And I lay listening in such pride!
And, soon as he had left my side,
Tripped to the church by morning-light
To save his soul in his despite.

X.

I told the father all his schemes,
Who were his comrades, what their dreams;
``And now make haste,'' I said, ``to pray
``The one spot from his soul away;
``To-night he comes, but not the same
``Will look!'' At night he never came.

XI.

Nor next night: on the after-morn,
I went forth with a strength new-born.
The church was empty; something drew
My steps into the street; I knew
It led me to the market-place:
Where, lo, on high, the father's face!

XII.

That horrible black scaffold dressed,
That stapled block ... God sink the rest!
That head strapped back, that blinding vest,
Those knotted hands and naked breast,
Till near one busy hangman pressed,
And, on the neck these arms caressed ...

XIII.

No part in aught they hope or fear!
No heaven with them, no hell!---and here,
No earth, not so much space as pens
My body in their worst of dens
But shall bear God and man my cry,
Lies---lies, again---and still, they lie!

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry