Burns, Robert: A Bard's Epitaph
A Bard's Epitaph (Angol)Is there a whim-inspired fool,
Owre fast for thought, owre hot for rule, Owre blate to seek, owre proud to snool, Let him draw near; And owre this grassy heap sing dool, 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.
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Egy dalnok sírfelirata (Magyar)Van-e olyan nyakas balga, Van-e még durva hangú bárd, Van-e még ki oly bölcs barát, Itt érte őt a szörnyű vég, Halld, Olvasó! Bár szellemed,
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