The Given Love

I’LL on; for what should hinder me

From loving and enjoying thee?

Thou canst not those exceptions make,

Which vulgar, sordid mortals take-

That my fate’s too mean and low;

‘T were pity I should love thee so,

If that dull cause could hinder me

In loving and enjoying thee.

It does not me a whit displease,

That the rich all honours seize;

That you all titles make your own,

Are valiant, learned, wise, alone:

But, if you claim o’er women too

The power which over men ye do;

If you alone must lovers be;

For that, Sirs, you must pardon me.

Rather than lose what does so near

Concern my life and being here,

I’ll some such crooked ways invent,

As you, or your forefathers, went:

I’ll flatter or oppose the king,

Turn Puritan, or any thing;

I’ll force my mind to arts so new:

Grow rich, and love as well as you.

But rather thus let me remain,

As man in paradise did reign;

When perfect love did so agree

With innocence and poverty,

Adam did no jointure give;

Himself was jointure to his Eve:

Untouch’d with avarice yet, or pride,

The rib came freely back t’ his side.

A curse upon the man who taught

Women, that love was to be bought!

Rather dote only on your gold,

And that with greedy avarice hold;

For, if woman too submit

To that, and sell herself for it,

Fond lover! you a mistress have

Of her that’s but your fellow-slave.

What should those poets mean of old

That made their God to woo in gold?

Of all men, sure, they had no cause

To bind love to such costly laws;

And yet I scarcely blame them now;

For who, alas! would not allow,

That women should such gifts receive,

Could they, as he, be what they give?

If thou, my dear, thyself shouldst prize,

Alas! what value would suffice?

The Spaniard could not do’t, though he

Should to both Indies jointure thee.

Thy beauties therefore wrong will take,

If thou shouldst any bargain make;

To give all, will befit thee well;

But not at under-rates to sell.

Bestow thy beauty then on me,

Freely, as nature gave’t to thee;

‘T is an exploded popish thought

To think that heaven may be bought.

Prayers, hymns, and praises, are the way,

And those my thankful Muse shall pay:

Thy body, in my verse enshrin’d,

Shall grow immortal as thy mind.

I’ll fix thy title next in fame

To Sacharissa’s well-sung name.

So faithfully will I declare

What all thy wondrous beauties are,

That when, at the last great assize,

All women shall together rise,

Men straight shall cast their eyes on thee

And know at first that thou art she.

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Poems in English 

• Robert Burns: The Young Highland Rover: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: My Peggy’s Charms: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Braving Angry Winter’s Storms: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: The Banks Of The Devon: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Epitaph For Mr. W. Cruikshank: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: A Rose-Bud By My Early Walk: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Blythe Was She: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: On Scaring Some Water-Fowl In Loch-Turit : A wild scene among the Hills of Oughtertyre. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: The Bonie Lass Of Albany: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Theniel Menzies’ Bonie Mary: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Lady Onlie, Honest Lucky: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Castle Gordon: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Strathallan’s Lament: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Epigram On Parting With A Kind Host In The Highlands: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Lines On The Fall Of Fyers Near Loch-Ness.: Written with a Pencil on the Spot. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: The Humble Petition Of Bruar Water: To the noble Duke of Athole. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: The Birks Of Aberfeldy: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Verses Written With A Pencil Over the Chimney-piece in the Parlour of the Inn at Kenmore, Taymouth.: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: The Libeller’s Self-Reproof: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: The Poet’s Reply To The Threat Of A Censorious Critic: My imprudent lines were answered, very petulantly, by somebody, I believe, a Rev. Mr. Hamilton. In a MS., where I met the answer, I wrote below:- by Robert Burns

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