On The Seas And Far Away
I don't usually post anything for Burns night, but what the hell. I can't say Burns has ever been one of my favourite Scottish poets, but on the rare occasions that I do take the time to actually read his poetry I'm always really struck by it. He's one of those poets who has really suffered from over familiarity, which is a real shame as he's a brilliant writer. Having said all that, this poem, which was written in 1794, just a year into the French Revolutionary War, isn't one of his best works, and indeed Burns himself was critical of it.
I shall withdraw my "On the seas and far away" altogether; it is unequal and unworthy of the work. Making a poem is like begetting a son; you can not know if you have a wise man or a fool, until you produce him to the world and try him.
I think it has a certain charm though and it's definitely fitting for my LJ!
On The Seas and Far Away
How can my poor heart be glad,
When absent from my Sailor lad;
How can I the thought forego,
He's on the seas to meet the foe:
Let me wander, let me rove,
Still my heart is with my Love;
Nightly dreams and thoughts by day,
Are with him that's far away.
On the seas and far away,
On stormy seas and far away,
Nightly dreams and thoughts by day,
Are aye with him that's far away.
When in summer noon I faint,
As weary flocks around me pant,
Haply in this scorching sun
My Sailor's thund'ring at his gun:
Bullets spare my only joy!
Bullets spare my darling boy!
Fate, do with me what you may,
Spare but him that's far away.
On the seas and far away,
On stormy seas and far away,
Fate do with me what you may,
Spare but him that's far away.
At the starless, midnight hour
When Winter rules with boundless power;
As the storms the forest tear,
And thunders rend the howling air:
Listening to the doubling roar,
Surging on the rocky shore,
All I can - I weep and pray
For his weal that's far away,
On the seas and far away,
On stormy seas and far away,
All I can I weep and pray
For his weal that's far away.
Peace, thy olive wand extend,
And bid wild War his ravage end,
Man with brother Man to meet,
And as a brother kindly greet:
Then may Heaven with prosperous gales
Fill my Sailor's welcome sails;
To my arms their charge convey,
My dear lad that's far away.
On the seas and far away,
On stormy seas and far away,
To my arms their charge convey,
My dear lad that's far away.