John Barbour

(c.1320 – 13 March 1395 / Aberdeenshire or Galloway, Scotland)

John Barbour Poems

1. The Brus Book Ii 1/1/2004
2. The Brus Book Iii 1/1/2004
3. The Brus Book Viii 1/1/2004
4. The Brus Book 20 1/1/2004
5. The Brus Book Xi 1/1/2004
6. The Brus Book Xvi 1/1/2004
7. The Brus Book Xiii 1/1/2004
8. The Brus Book Xviii 1/1/2004
9. The Brus Book V 1/1/2004
10. The Brus Book 18 1/1/2004
11. The Brus Book 19 1/1/2004
12. The Brus Book Iv 1/1/2004
13. The Brus Book Vi 1/1/2004
14. The Brus Book Vii 1/1/2004
15. The Brus Book Xii 1/1/2004
16. The Brus Book Xv 1/1/2004
17. The Brus Book Xiv 1/1/2004
18. The Brus Book I 1/1/2004
19. The Brus Book Ix 1/1/2004
20. The Brus Book X 4/19/2010
21. Freedom 1/4/2003

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Best Poem of John Barbour


A! Fredome is a noble thing!
Fredome mays man to haiff liking;
Fredome all solace to man giffis,
He levys at ese that frely levys!
A noble hart may haiff nane ese,
Na ellys nocht that may him plese,
Gyff fredome fail; for fre liking
Is yarnyt our all othir thing.
Na he that ay has levyt fre
May nocht knaw weill the propyrte,
The angyr, na the wretchyt dome
That is couplyt to foule thyrldome.
Bot gyff he had assayit it,
Than all perquer he suld it wyt;
And suld think fredome mar to prise
Than all the gold in warld that is.
Thus ...

Read the full of Freedom

The Brus Book 18

[Edward Bruce marches toward Dundalk; he debates whether to fight]

Bot he that rest anoyit ay
And wald in travaill be alway,
A day forouth thar aryving
That war send till him fra the king,
5 He tuk his way southwart to far
Magre thaim all that with him war,
For he had nocht than in that land

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