The immortal poets of the world literature

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e Englands province stands—
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!
What force or guile could not subdue
Thro many warlike ages,
Is wrought now by a coward few,
For hireling traitors wages.
The English steel we could disdain,
Secure in valours station;
But English gold has been our bane—
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation
Pupil 3 MacPherson
Farewell, ye dungeons dark and strong,
The wretchs destinie!
MacPhersons time will no be long
Below the gallows-tree.
O, what is death but parting breath?
On many a bloody plain
Ive dard his face, and in this place
I scorn him yet again!
Untie these bands from off my hands,
And bring to me my sword,
And theres no a man in all Scotland
But Ill brave him at a word.
Ive livd a life of sturt and strife;
I die by treacherie:
It burns my heart I must depart,
And not avenged be.
O, what is death but parting breath?
On many a bloody plain
I have dared his face, and in this place
I scorn him yet again!
And bring to me my sword,
And there is not a man in all Scotland
But I will brave him at a word.
I have lived a life of trouble and strife;
I die by treachery:
It burns my heart I must depart,
And not avenged be.
Now farewell light, you sunshine bright,
And all beneath the sky!
May coward shame disdain his name,
The wretch that dare not die!
Шотландық даңқ
Қас дұшпаның саған қару кезенді,
Бастан кештің кері кеткен кезеңді.
Қоштаса бер даңқыңменен ежелгі,
Отан деген оттан ыстық сөз өлді.
Твид мұхиттың асығушы ед жолына,
Сарк болса түсті құмның торына.
Атамекен бәрі, бәрі. . . көшті енді,
Ата жауың

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