Classic Poem

O Cyprian goddess! twinkle clear,
And Helen's brithers ay appear;
Ye stars wha shed a lucky light,
Auspicious ay keep in a sight;
King Æol, grant a tydie tirl,
But boast the blasts that rudely whirl;
Dear ship, be canny with your care,
At Athens land my Virgil fair,
Syne soon and safe, baith lith and spaul,
Bring hame the tae haff o' my saul.

Daring and unco' stout he was,
With heart hool'd in three sloughs of brass,
Wha ventur'd first on the rough sea,
With hempen branks, and horse of tree;
Wha in the weak machine durst ride
Thro' tempests and a rairing tide;
Not clinty craigs, nor hurricane
That drives the Adriatic main,
And gars the ocean gowl and quake,
Cou'd e'er a soul sae sturdy shake.
The man wha cou'd sic rubs win o'er,
Without a wink at death might glowr,
Wha unconcern'd can take his sleep
Amang the monsters of the deep.

Jove vainly twin'd the sea and eard,
Since mariners are not afraid
With laws of nature to dispense,
And impiously treat Providence.
Audacious men at nought will stand,
When vicious passions have command:
Prometheus ventur'd up, and staw
A lowan coal frae heav'n's high ha';
Unsonsy thift, which fevers brought
In bikes, which fowks like sybows hought;
Then death, erst slaw, began to ling,
And fast as haps to dart his sting:
Neist Dedalus must contradict
Nature forsooth, and feathers stick
Upon his back, syne upward streek,
And in at Jove's high winnocks keek;
While Hercules, wi 's timber-mell,
Plays rap upo' the yates of hell.
What is 't man winna ettle at?
E'en wi' the gods he 'll bell the cat:
Tho' Jove be very laith to kill,
They winna let his bowt lye still.