Robert Burns had a remarkable range of voices, from lover of women and nature to radical idealist, patriot, and satirist.

A sequence of his poems (or extracts therefrom) running up to his birthdate on Saturday aims to show some of the masterly versatility of our national poet. Here is an early and exquisite love song.

MARY MORISON

O Mary, at thy window be,

It is the wish'd, the trysted hour;

Those smiles and glances let me see,

That make the miser's treasure poor:

How blithely wad I bide the stoure,

A weary slave frae sun to sun;

Could I the rich reward secure,

The lovely Mary Morison!

Yestreen when to the trembling string

The dance gaed through the lighted ha',

To thee my fancy took its wing,

I sat, but neither heard, nor saw:

Though this was fair, and that was braw,

And yon the toast of a' the town,

I sigh'd, and said amang them a',

'Ye are na Mary Morison.

O Mary, canst thou wreck his peace,

Wha for thy sake wad gladly die!

Or canst thou break that heart of his,

Whase only faute is loving thee?

If love for love thou wilt na gie,

At least be pity to me shown;

A thought ungentle canna be

The thought o' Mary Morison.