103. To Ruin
ALL hail! inexorable lord!
At whose destruction-breathing word,
The mightiest empires fall!
Thy cruel, woe-delighted train,
The ministers of grief and pain,
A sullen welcome, all!
With stern-resolvd, despairing eye,
I see each aimèd dart;
For one has cut my dearest tie,
And quivers in my heart.
Then lowring, and pouring,
The storm no more I dread;
Tho thickning, and blackning,
Round my devoted head.
And thou grim Powr by life abhorrd,
While life a pleasure can afford,
Oh! hear a wretchs prayr!
Nor more I shrink appalld, afraid;
I court, I beg thy friendly aid,
To close this scene of care!
When shall my soul, in silent peace,
Resign lifes joyless day
My weary heart is throbbing cease,
Cold mouldring in the clay?
No fear more, no tear more,
To stain my lifeless face,
Enclaspèd, and grasped,
Within thy cold embrace!
103. To Ruin by Robert Burns