Explore "Castle Gordon" by Robert Burns on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Streams that glide in orient plains, / Never bound by Winter's chains; / Glowing here on golden sands, / There immix'd with foulest stains / From Tyranny's empurpled hands; / These, their richly gleaming waves, / I leave to tyrants and their slaves; / Give me the stream that sweetly laves / The banks by Castle Gordon.
Spicy forests, ever gray, / Shading from the burning ray / Hapless wretches sold to toil; / Or the ruthless native's way, / Bent on slaughter, blood, and spoil: / Woods that ever verdant wave, / I leave the tyrant and the slave; / Give me the groves that lofty brave / The storms by Castle Gordon.
Wildly here, without control, / Nature reigns and rules the whole; / In that sober pensive mood, / Dearest to the feeling soul, / She plants the forest, pours the flood: / Life's poor day I'll musing rave / And find at night a sheltering cave, / Where waters flow and wild woods wave, / By bonie Castle Gordon.