Robert Burn’s “A Bard’s Epitaph,” with commentary

Is there a whim-inspired fool,

Owre* fast for thought, owre hot for rule,                                      Over/too

Owre blate* to seek, owre proud to snool*,                                  Bashful; to
submit tamely

Let him draw near;

And owre this grassy heap sing dool*,                                           Dole/sorrow

And drap* a tear.                                                                            Drop

Is there a bard of rustic song,

Who, noteless, steals the crowds among,

That weekly this area throng,

O, pass not by!

But, with a frater-feeling* strong,                                                   Brotherly-feeling

Here, heave a sigh.

Is there a man, whose judgment clear

Can others teach the course to steer,

Yet runs, himself, life’s mad career,

Wild as the wave,

Here pause-and, thro’* the starting tear,                                        Through

Survey this grave.

The poor inhabitant below

Was quick to learn the wise to know,

And keenly felt the friendly glow,

And softer flame;

But thoughtless follies laid him low,

And stain’d his name!

Reader, attend! whether thy* soul                                                  Your

Soars fancy’s flights beyond the pole,

Or darkling grubs this earthly hole,

In low pursuit:

Know, prudent, cautious, self-control

Is wisdom’s root.

Commentary

This
poem is an epitaph for a dead bard; in Scotland at the time this was a
strolling musician or minstrel, classed with vagabonds. It is a morality tale
addressed to the reader, particularly to bards and men who seek to inspire
others, of a talented bard who gained fame and honor but lost it due to leading
a wild and dissolute life; thus, he ended with a stained reputation and lost
respect in death.

The poem follows an AAABAB rhyme scheme with eight syllables
to the “A” lines and four syllables to the “B” lines.