Such a Parcel of Rogues in a Nation

Оригинальная поэма Бёрнса:

Fareweel to a' our Scottish fame,
Fareweel our ancient glory;
Fareweel ev’n to the Scottish name,
Sae fam’d in martial story.
Now Sark rins over Solway sands,
An' Tweed rins to the ocean,
To mark where England’s 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 traitor’s wages.
The English steel we could disdain,
Secure in valour’s station;
But English gold has been our bane-
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!

O would, or I had seen the day
That Treason thus could sell us,
My auld grey head had lien in clay,
Wi' Bruce and loyal Wallace!
But pith and power, till my last hour,
I’ll mak this declaration;
We’re bought and sold for English gold-
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!

Устоявшийся английский перевод:

Farewell to all our Scottish fame,
Farewell our ancient glory!
Farewell even to the Scottish name.
So famed in martial story!
Now Sark runs over Solway^[англ.] sands,
And Tweed runs to the ocean,
To mark where England’s province stands -
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!

What force or guile could not subdue
Through many warlike ages
Is wrought now by a coward few
For hireling traitor’s wages.
The English steel we could disdain,
Secure in valour’s station;
But English gold has been our bane -
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!

O, would, or I had seen the day
That Treason thus could sell us,
My old grey head had lain in clay (be buried)
With Bruce and loyal Wallace!
But pith and power, till my last hour
I will make this declaration:
'We are bought and sold for English gold'-
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!

Русский перевод:

Навек простись, Шотландский край,
С твоею древней славой.
Названье самое, прощай,
Отчизны величавой!

Где Твид несется в океан
И Сарк в песках струится, -
Теперь владенья англичан,
Провинции граница.

Века сломить нас не могли,
Но продал нас изменник
Противникам родной земли
За горсть презренных денег.

Мы сталь английскую не раз
В сраженьях притупили,
Но золотом английским нас
На торжище купили.

Как жаль, что я не пал в бою,
Когда с врагом боролись
За честь и родину свою
Наш гордый Брюс и Уоллес.

Но десять раз в последний час
Скажу я без утайки:
Проклятие предавшей нас
Мошеннической шайке!