Written By Somebody On The Window Of An Inn At Stirling Poem by Robert Burns

Written By Somebody On The Window Of An Inn At Stirling



HERE Stuarts once in glory reigned,
And laws for Scotland's weal ordained;
But now unroof'd their palace stands,
Their sceptre's sway'd by other hands;
Fallen indeed, and to the earth
Whence groveling reptiles take their birth.
The injured Stuart line is gone,
A race outlandish fills their throne;
An idiot race, to honour lost;
Who know them best despise them most.

Saturday, October 25, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: earth
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Robert Burns

Robert Burns

Ayrshire / Scotland
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