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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=116454" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Address to the Deil</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">O Prince! O chief of many throned Pow'rs<br>That led th' embattl'd Seraphim to war-</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Milton</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> O Thou! whatever title suit thee-<br> Auld Hornie, Satan, Nick, or Clootie,<br> Wha in yon cavern grim an' sootie,<br>  Clos'd under hatches,<br> Spairges about the brunstane cootie,<br>  To scaud poor wretches!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Hear me, auld Hangie, for a wee,<br> An' let poor damned bodies be;<br> I'm sure sma' pleasure it can gie,<br>  Ev'n to a deil,<br> To skelp an' scaud poor dogs like me,<br>  An' hear us squeel!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Great is thy pow'r an' great thy fame;<br> Far ken'd an' noted is thy name;<br> An' tho' yon lowin' heuch's thy hame,<br>  Thou travels far;<br> An' faith! thou's neither lag nor lame,<br>  Nor blate, nor scaur.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Whiles, ranging like a roarin lion,<br> For prey, a' holes and corners tryin;<br> Whiles, on the strong-wind'd tempest flyin,<br>  Tirlin the kirks;<br> Whiles, in the human bosom pryin,<br>  Unseen thou lurks.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> I've heard my rev'rend graunie say,<br> In lanely glens ye like to stray;<br> Or where auld ruin'd castles grey<br>  Nod to the moon,<br> Ye fright the nightly wand'rer's way,<br>  Wi' eldritch croon.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> When twilight did my graunie summon,<br> To say her pray'rs, douse, honest woman!<br> Aft'yont the dyke she's heard you bummin,<br>  Wi' eerie drone;<br> Or, rustlin, thro' the boortrees comin,<br>  Wi' heavy groan.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Ae dreary, windy, winter night,<br> The stars shot down wi' sklentin light,<br> Wi' you, mysel' I gat a fright,<br>  Ayont the lough;<br> Ye, like a rash-buss, stood in sight,<br>  Wi' wavin' sough.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> The cudgel in my nieve did shake,<br> Each brist'ld hair stood like a stake,<br> When wi' an eldritch, stoor "quaick, quaick,"<br>  Amang the springs,<br> Awa ye squatter'd like a drake,<br>  On whistlin' wings.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Let warlocks grim, an' wither'd hags,<br> Tell how wi' you, on ragweed nags,<br> They skim the muirs an' dizzy crags,<br>  Wi' wicked speed;<br> And in kirk-yards renew their leagues,<br>  Owre howkit dead.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Thence countra wives, wi' toil and pain,<br> May plunge an' plunge the kirn in vain;<br> For oh! the yellow treasure's ta'en<br>  By witchin' skill;<br> An' dawtit, twal-pint hawkie's gane<br>  As yell's the bill.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Thence mystic knots mak great abuse<br> On young guidmen, fond, keen an' crouse,<br> When the best wark-lume i' the house,<br>  By cantrip wit,<br> Is instant made no worth a louse,<br>  Just at the bit.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> When thowes dissolve the snawy hoord,<br> An' float the jinglin' icy boord,<br> Then water-kelpies haunt the foord,<br>  By your direction,<br> And 'nighted trav'llers are allur'd<br>  To their destruction.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> And aft your moss-traversin Spunkies<br> Decoy the wight that late an' drunk is:<br> The bleezin, curst, mischievous monkies<br>  Delude his eyes,<br> Till in some miry slough he sunk is,<br>  Ne'er mair to rise.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> When masons' mystic word an' grip<br> In storms an' tempests raise you up,<br> Some cock or cat your rage maun stop,<br>  Or, strange to tell!<br> The youngest brither ye wad whip<br>  Aff straught to hell.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Lang syne in Eden's bonie yard,<br> When youthfu' lovers first were pair'd,<br> An' all the soul of love they shar'd,<br>  The raptur'd hour,<br> Sweet on the fragrant flow'ry swaird,<br>  In shady bower;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Then you, ye auld, snick-drawing dog!<br> Ye cam to Paradise incog,<br> An' play'd on man a cursed brogue,<br>  (Black be your fa'!)<br> An' gied the infant warld a shog,<br>  'Maist rui'd a'.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> D'ye mind that day when in a bizz<br> Wi' reekit duds, an' reestit gizz,<br> Ye did present your smoutie phiz<br>  'Mang better folk,<br> An' sklented on the man of Uzz<br>  Your spitefu' joke?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> An' how ye gat him i' your thrall,<br> An' brak him out o' house an hal',<br> While scabs and botches did him gall,<br>  Wi' bitter claw;<br> An' lows'd his ill-tongu'd wicked scaul',<br>  Was warst ava?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> But a' your doings to rehearse,<br> Your wily snares an' fechtin fierce,<br> Sin' that day Michael did you pierce,<br>  Down to this time,<br> Wad ding a Lallan tounge, or Erse,<br>  In prose or rhyme.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> An' now, auld Cloots, I ken ye're thinkin,<br> A certain bardie's rantin, drinkin,<br> Some luckless hour will send him linkin<br>  To your black pit;<br> But faith! he'll turn a corner jinkin,<br>  An' cheat you yet.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> But fare-you-weel, auld Nickie-ben!<br> O wad ye tak a thought an' men'!<br> Ye aiblins might-I dinna ken-<br>  Stil hae a stake:<br> I'm wae to think up' yon den,<br>  Ev'n for your sake!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+Burns">Robert Burns</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=116454" data-title="Address to the Deil de Robert Burns" data-description="O Prince! O chief of many throned Pow'rs/That led th' embattl'd Seraphim to war-/ Milton// O Thou! whatever title suit thee-/ Auld Hornie, Satan, Nick, or Clootie,/ Wha in yon cavern grim an' sootie,/  Clos'd under hatches,/ Spairges about the bru..."></div>
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