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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Complete Works of Robert Burns:
+Containing his Poems, Songs, and Correspondence., by Robert Burns and Allan Cunningham
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Complete Works of Robert Burns: Containing his Poems, Songs, and Correspondence.
+       With a New Life of the Poet, and Notices, Critical and
+       Biographical by Allan Cunningham
+
+Author: Robert Burns and Allan Cunningham
+
+Release Date: June 4, 2006 [EBook #18500]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORKS OF ROBERT BURNS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Sankar Viswanathan,
+and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+http://www.pgdp.net (This file was made using scans of
+public domain works from the University of Michigan Digital
+Libraries.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                          Transcriber's Note.
+
+1. The hyphenation and accent of words is not uniform throughout the
+book. No change has been made in this.
+
+2. The relative indentations of Poems, Epitaphs, and Songs are as
+printed in the original book.
+
+
+
+
+                                 THE
+
+                            COMPLETE WORKS
+
+                                  OF
+
+
+                            ROBERT BURNS:
+
+
+                            CONTAINING HIS
+
+                  POEMS, SONGS, AND CORRESPONDENCE.
+
+
+                                 WITH
+
+                       A NEW LIFE OF THE POET,
+
+                                 AND
+
+                 NOTICES, CRITICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL,
+
+
+
+
+                         BY ALLAN CUNNINGHAM.
+
+
+
+                      ELEGANTLY ILLUSTRATED.
+
+
+
+
+                               BOSTON:
+                   PHILLIPS, SAMPSON, AND COMPANY.
+                        NEW YORK: J.C. DERBY.
+                                1855
+
+
+
+
+TO
+ARCHIBALD HASTIE, ESQ.,
+
+MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT FOR PAISLEY
+
+THIS
+
+EDITION
+
+OF
+
+THE WORKS AND MEMOIRS OF A GREAT POET,
+
+IN WHOSE SENTIMENTS OF FREEDOM HE SHARES,
+
+AND WHOSE PICTURES OF SOCIAL AND DOMESTIC LIFE HE LOVES,
+
+IS RESPECTFULLY AND GRATEFULLY INSCRIBED
+
+BY
+
+ALLAN CUNNINGHAM.
+
+
+
+
+DEDICATION.
+
+TO THE
+
+NOBLEMEN AND GENTLEMEN
+
+OF THE
+
+CALEDONIAN HUNT.
+
+
+
+
+[On the title-page of the second or Edinburgh edition, were these
+words: "Poems, chiefly in the Scottish Dialect, by Robert Burns,
+printed for the Author, and sold by William Creech, 1787." The motto
+of the Kilmarnock edition was omitted; a very numerous list of
+subscribers followed: the volume was printed by the celebrated
+Smellie.]
+
+
+MY LORDS AND GENTLEMEN:
+
+A Scottish Bard, proud of the name, and whose highest ambition is to
+sing in his country's service, where shall he so properly look for
+patronage as to the illustrious names of his native land: those who
+bear the honours and inherit the virtues of their ancestors? The
+poetic genius of my country found me, as the prophetic bard Elijah did
+Elisha--at the PLOUGH, and threw her inspiring mantle over
+me. She bade me sing the loves, the joys, the rural scenes and rural
+pleasures of my native soil, in my native tongue; I tuned my wild,
+artless notes as she inspired. She whispered me to come to this
+ancient metropolis of Caledonia, and lay my songs under your honoured
+protection: I now obey her dictates.
+
+Though much indebted to your goodness, I do not approach you, my Lords
+and Gentlemen, in the usual style of dedication, to thank you for past
+favours: that path is so hackneyed by prostituted learning that honest
+rusticity is ashamed of it. Nor do I present this address with the
+venal soul of a servile author, looking for a continuation of those
+favours: I was bred to the plough, and am independent. I come to claim
+the common Scottish name with you, my illustrious countrymen; and to
+tell the world that I glory in the title. I come to congratulate my
+country that the blood of her ancient heroes still runs
+uncontaminated, and that from your courage, knowledge, and public
+spirit, she may expect protection, wealth, and liberty. In the last
+place, I come to proffer my warmest wishes to the great fountain of
+honour, the Monarch of the universe, for your welfare and happiness.
+
+When you go forth to waken the echoes, in the ancient and favourite
+amusement of your forefathers, may Pleasure ever be of your party: and
+may social joy await your return! When harassed in courts or camps
+with the jostlings of bad men and bad measures, may the honest
+consciousness of injured worth attend your return to your native
+seats; and may domestic happiness, with a smiling welcome, meet you at
+your gates! May corruption shrink at your kindling indignant glance;
+and may tyranny in the ruler, and licentiousness in the people,
+equally find you an inexorable foe!
+
+I have the honour to be,
+
+With the sincerest gratitude and highest respect,
+
+My Lords and Gentlemen,
+
+Your most devoted humble servant,
+
+ROBERT BURNS.
+
+EDINBURGH, _April 4, 1787._
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE.
+
+
+I cannot give to my country this edition of one of its favourite
+poets, without stating that I have deliberately omitted several pieces
+of verse ascribed to Burns by other editors, who too hastily, and I
+think on insufficient testimony, admitted them among his works. If I
+am unable to share in the hesitation expressed by one of them on the
+authorship of the stanzas on "Pastoral Poetry," I can as little share
+in the feelings with which they have intruded into the charmed circle
+of his poetry such compositions as "Lines on the Ruins of Lincluden
+College," "Verses on the Destruction of the Woods of Drumlanrig,"
+"Verses written on a Marble Slab in the Woods of Aberfeldy," and those
+entitled "The Tree of Liberty." These productions, with the exception
+of the last, were never seen by any one even in the handwriting of
+Burns, and are one and all wanting in that original vigour of language
+and manliness of sentiment which distinguish his poetry. With respect
+to "The Tree of Liberty" in particular, a subject dear to the heart of
+the Bard, can any one conversant with his genius imagine that he
+welcomed its growth or celebrated its fruit with such "capon craws" as
+these?
+
+    "Upo' this tree there grows sic fruit,
+       Its virtues a' can tell, man;
+     It raises man aboon the brute,
+       It mak's him ken himsel', man.
+     Gif ance the peasant taste a bit,
+       He's greater than a lord, man,
+     An' wi' a beggar shares a mite
+       O' a' he can afford, man."
+
+There are eleven stanzas, of which the best, compared with the "A
+man's a man for a' that" of Burns, sounds like a cracked pipkin
+against the "heroic clang" of a Damascus blade. That it is extant in
+the handwriting of the poet cannot be taken as a proof that it is his
+own composition, against the internal testimony of utter want of all
+the marks by which we know him--the Burns-stamp, so to speak, which is
+visible on all that ever came from his pen. Misled by his handwriting,
+I inserted in my former edition of his works an epitaph, beginning
+
+    "Here lies a rose, a budding rose,"
+
+the composition of Shenstone, and which is to be found in the
+church-yard of Hales-Owen: as it is not included in every edition of
+that poet's acknowledged works, Burns, who was an admirer of his
+genius, had, it seems, copied it with his own hand, and hence my
+error. If I hesitated about the exclusion of "The Tree of Liberty,"
+and its three false brethren, I could have no scruples regarding the
+fine song of "Evan Banks," claimed and justly for Miss Williams by Sir
+Walter Scott, or the humorous song called "Shelah O'Neal," composed by
+the late Sir Alexander Boswell. When I have stated that I have
+arranged the Poems, the Songs, and the Letters of Burns, as nearly as
+possible in the order in which they were written; that I have omitted
+no piece of either verse or prose which bore the impress of his hand,
+nor included any by which his high reputation would likely be
+impaired, I have said all that seems necessary to be said, save that
+the following letter came too late for insertion in its proper place:
+it is characteristic and worth a place anywhere.
+
+ALLAN CUNNINGHAM.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+TO DR. ARCHIBALD LAURIE.
+
+_Mossgiel, 13th Nov. 1786._
+
+DEAR SIR,
+
+I have along with this sent the two volumes of Ossian, with the
+remaining volume of the Songs. Ossian I am not in such a hurry about;
+but I wish the Songs, with the volume of the Scotch Poets, returned as
+soon as they can conveniently be dispatched. If they are left at Mr.
+Wilson, the bookseller's shop, Kilmarnock, they will easily reach me.
+
+My most respectful compliments to Mr. and Mrs. Laurie; and a Poet's
+warmest wishes for their happiness to the young ladies; particularly
+the fair musician, whom I think much better qualified than ever David
+was, or could be, to charm an evil spirit out of a Saul.
+
+Indeed, it needs not the Feelings of a poet to be interested in the
+welfare of one of the sweetest scenes of domestic peace and kindred
+love that ever I saw; as I think the peaceful unity of St. Margaret's
+Hill can only be excelled by the harmonious concord of the Apocalyptic
+Zion.
+
+I am, dear Sir, yours sincerely,
+
+ROBERT BURNS.
+
+
+
+
+TABLE OF CONTENTS.
+
+
+THE LIFE OF ROBERT BURNS
+
+Preface to the Kilmarnock Edition of 1786
+
+Dedication to the Edinburgh Edition of 1787
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+POEMS.
+
+Winter. A Dirge
+
+The Death and dying Words of poor Mailie
+
+Poor Mailie's Elegy
+
+First Epistle to Davie, a brother Poet
+
+Second
+
+Address to the Deil
+
+The auld Farmer's New-year Morning Salutation to his auld Mare Maggie
+
+To a Haggis
+
+A Prayer under the pressure of violent Anguish
+
+A Prayer in the prospect of Death
+
+Stanzas on the same occasion
+
+A Winter Night
+
+Remorse. A Fragment
+
+The Jolly Beggars. A Cantata
+
+Death and Dr. Hornbook. A True Story
+
+The Twa Herds; or, the Holy Tulzie
+
+Holy Willie's Prayer
+
+Epitaph to Holy Willie
+
+The Inventory; in answer to a mandate by the surveyor of taxes
+
+The Holy Fair
+
+The Ordination
+
+The Calf
+
+To James Smith
+
+The Vision
+
+Halloween
+
+Man was made to Mourn. A Dirge
+
+To Ruin
+
+To John Goudie of Kilmarnock, on the publication of his Essays
+
+To J. Lapraik, an old Scottish Bard. First Epistle
+
+To J. Lapraik. Second Epistle
+
+To J. Lapraik. Third Epistle
+
+To William Simpson, Ochiltree
+
+Address to an illegitimate Child
+
+Nature's Law. A Poem humbly inscribed to G.H., Esq.
+
+To the Rev. John M'Math
+
+To a Mouse
+
+Scotch Drink
+
+The Author's earnest Cry and Prayer to the Scotch Representatives of
+the House of Commons
+
+Address to the unco Guid, or the rigidly Righteous
+
+Tam Samson's Elegy
+
+Lament, occasioned by the unfortunate issue of a Friend's Amour
+
+Despondency. An Ode
+
+The Cotter's Saturday Night
+
+The first Psalm
+
+The first six Verses of the ninetieth Psalm
+
+To a Mountain Daisy
+
+Epistle to a young Friend
+
+To a Louse, on seeing one on a Lady's Bonnet at Church
+
+Epistle to J. Rankine, enclosing some Poems
+
+On a Scotch Bard, gone to the West Indies
+
+The Farewell
+
+Written on the blank leaf of my Poems, presented to an old Sweetheart
+then married
+
+A Dedication to Gavin Hamilton, Esq.
+
+Elegy on the Death of Robert Ruisseaux
+
+Letter to James Tennant of Glenconner
+
+On the Birth of a posthumous Child
+
+To Miss Cruikshank
+
+Willie Chalmers
+
+Verses left in the room where he slept
+
+To Gavin Hamilton, Esq., recommending a boy
+
+To Mr. M'Adam, of Craigen-gillan
+
+Answer to a Poetical Epistle sent to the Author by a Tailor
+
+To J. Rankine. "I am a keeper of the law."
+
+Lines written on a Bank-note
+
+A Dream
+
+A Bard's Epitaph
+
+The Twa Dogs. A Tale
+
+Lines on meeting with Lord Daer
+
+Address to Edinburgh
+
+Epistle to Major Logan
+
+The Brigs of Ayr
+
+On the Death of Robert Dundas, Esq., of Arniston, late Lord President
+of the Court of Session
+
+On reading in a Newspaper the Death of John M'Leod, Esq.
+
+To Miss Logan, with Beattie's Poems
+
+The American War, A fragment
+
+The Dean of Faculty. A new Ballad
+
+To a Lady, with a Present of a Pair of Drinking-glasses
+
+To Clarinda
+
+Verses written under the Portrait of the Poet Fergusson
+
+Prologue spoken by Mr. Woods, on his Benefit-night, Monday, April 16,
+1787
+
+Sketch. A Character
+
+To Mr. Scott, of Wauchope
+
+Epistle to William Creech
+
+The humble Petition of Bruar-Water, to the noble Duke of Athole
+
+On scaring some Water-fowl in Loch Turit
+
+Written with a pencil, over the chimney-piece, in the parlour of the
+Inn at Kenmore, Taymouth
+
+Written with a pencil, standing by the Fall of Fyers, near Loch Ness
+
+To Mr. William Tytler, with the present of the Bard's picture
+
+Written in Friars-Carse Hermitage, on the banks of Nith, June, 1780.
+First Copy
+
+The same. December, 1788. Second Copy
+
+To Captain Riddel, of Glenriddel. Extempore lines on returning a
+Newspaper
+
+A Mother's Lament for the Death of her Son
+
+First Epistle to Robert Graham, Esq., of Fintray
+
+On the Death of Sir James Hunter Blair
+
+Epistle to Hugh Parker
+
+Lines, intended to be written under a Noble Earl's Picture
+
+Elegy on the year 1788. A Sketch
+
+Address to the Toothache
+
+Ode. Sacred to the memory of Mrs. Oswald, of Auchencruive
+
+Fragment inscribed to the Right Hon. C.J. Fox
+
+On seeing a wounded Hare limp by me, which a Fellow had just shot
+
+To Dr. Blacklock. In answer to a Letter
+
+Delia. An Ode
+
+To John M'Murdo, Esq.
+
+Prologue, spoken at the Theatre, Dumfries, 1st January, 1790
+
+Scots Prologue, for Mr. Sutherland's Benefit-night, Dumfries
+
+Sketch. New-year's Day. To Mrs. Dunlop
+
+To a Gentleman who had sent him a Newspaper, and offered to continue
+it free of expense
+
+The Kirk's Alarm. A Satire. First Version
+
+The Kirk's Alarm. A Ballad. Second Version
+
+Peg Nicholson
+
+On Captain Matthew Henderson, a gentleman who held the patent for his
+honours immediately from Almighty God
+
+The Five Carlins. A Scots Ballad
+
+The Laddies by the Banks o' Nith
+
+Epistle to Robert Graham, Esq., of Fintray, on the close of the
+disputed Election between Sir James Johnstone, and Captain Miller, for
+the Dumfries district of Boroughs
+
+On Captain Grose's Peregrination through Scotland, collecting the
+Antiquities of that kingdom
+
+Written in a wrapper, enclosing a letter to Captain Grose
+
+Tam O' Shanter. A Tale
+
+Address of Beelzebub to the President of the Highland Society
+
+To John Taylor
+
+Lament of Mary Queen of Scots, on the approach of Spring
+
+The Whistle
+
+Elegy on Miss Burnet of Monboddo
+
+Lament for James, Earl of Glencairn
+
+Lines sent to Sir John Whitefoord, Bart., of Whitefoord, with the
+foregoing Poem
+
+Address to the Shade of Thomson, on crowning his Bust at Ednam with
+bays
+
+To Robert Graham, Esq., of Fintray
+
+To Robert Graham, Esq., of Fintray, on receiving a favour
+
+A Vision
+
+To John Maxwell, of Terraughty, on his birthday
+
+The Rights of Women, an occasional Address spoken by Miss Fontenelle,
+on her benefit-night, Nov. 26, 1792
+
+Monody on a Lady famed for her caprice
+
+Epistle from Esopus to Maria
+
+Poem on Pastoral Poetry
+
+Sonnet, written on the 25th January, 1793, the birthday of the Author,
+on hearing a thrush sing in a morning walk
+
+Sonnet on the death of Robert Riddel, Esq., of Glenriddel, April, 1794
+
+Impromptu on Mrs. Riddel's birthday
+
+Liberty. A Fragment
+
+Verses to a young Lady
+
+The Vowels. A Tale
+
+Verses to John Rankine
+
+On Sensibility. To my dear and much-honoured friend, Mrs. Dunlop, of
+Dunlop
+
+Lines sent to a Gentleman whom he had offended Address spoken by Miss
+Fontenelle on her Benefit-night
+
+On seeing Miss Fontenelle in a favourite character
+
+To Chloris
+
+Poetical Inscription for an Altar to Independence
+
+The Heron Ballads. Balled First
+
+The Heron Ballads. Ballad Second
+
+The Heron Ballads. Ballad Third
+
+Poem addressed to Mr. Mitchell, Collector of Excise, Dumfries, 1796
+
+To Miss Jessy Lewars, Dumfries, with Johnson's
+
+Musical Museum
+
+Poem on Life, addressed to Colonel de Peyster, Dumfries, 1796
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+EPITAPHS, EPIGRAMS, FRAGMENTS, &c.
+
+On the Author's Father
+
+On R.A., Esq.
+
+On a Friend
+
+For Gavin Hamilton
+
+On wee Johnny
+
+On John Dove, Innkeeper, Mauchline
+
+On a Wag in Mauchline
+
+On a celebrated ruling Elder
+
+On a noisy Polemic
+
+On Miss Jean Scott
+
+On a henpecked Country Squire
+
+On the same
+
+On the same
+
+The Highland Welcome
+
+On William Smellie
+
+Written on a window of the Inn at Carron
+
+The Book-worms
+
+Lines on Stirling
+
+The Reproof
+
+The Reply
+
+Lines written under the Picture of the celebrated Miss Burns
+
+Extempore in the Court of Session
+
+The henpecked Husband
+
+Written at Inverary
+
+On Elphinston's Translation of Martial's Epigrams
+
+Inscription on the Head-stone of Fergusson
+
+On a Schoolmaster
+
+A Grace before Dinner
+
+A Grace before Meat
+
+On Wat
+
+On Captain Francis Grose
+
+Impromptu to Miss Ainslie
+
+The Kirk of Lamington
+
+The League and Covenant
+
+Written on a pane of glass in the Inn at Moffat
+
+Spoken on being appointed to the Excise
+
+Lines on Mrs. Kemble
+
+To Mr. Syme
+
+To Mr. Syme, with a present of a dozen of porter
+
+A Grace
+
+Inscription on a goblet
+
+The Invitation
+
+The Creed of Poverty
+
+Written in a Lady's pocket-book
+
+The Parson's Looks
+
+The Toad-eater
+
+On Robert Riddel
+
+The Toast
+
+On a Person nicknamed the Marquis
+
+Lines written on a window
+
+Lines written on a window of the Globe Tavern, Dumfries
+
+The Selkirk Grace
+
+To Dr. Maxwell, on Jessie Staig's Recovery
+
+Epitaph
+
+Epitaph on William Nicol
+
+On the Death of a Lapdog, named Echo
+
+On a noted Coxcomb
+
+On seeing the beautiful Seat of Lord Galloway
+
+On the same
+
+On the same
+
+To the same, on the Author being threatened with his resentment
+
+On a Country Laird
+
+On John Bushby
+
+The true loyal Natives
+
+On a Suicide
+
+Extempore, pinned on a Lady's coach
+
+Lines to John Rankine
+
+Jessy Lewars
+
+The Toast
+
+On Miss Jessy Lewars
+
+On the recovery of Jessy Lewars
+
+Tam the Chapman
+
+"Here's a bottle and an honest friend"
+
+"Tho' fickle fortune has deceived me"
+
+To John Kennedy
+
+To the same
+
+"There's naethin' like the honest nappy"
+
+On the blank leaf of a work by Hannah More, presented by Mrs. C
+
+To the Men and Brethren of the Masonic Lodge at Tarbolton
+
+Impromptu
+
+Prayer for Adam Armour
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+SONGS AND BALLADS.
+
+Handsome Nell
+
+Luckless Fortune
+
+"I dream'd I lay where flowers were springing"
+
+Tibbie, I hae seen the day
+
+"My father was a farmer upon the Carrick border"
+
+John Barleycorn. A Ballad
+
+The Rigs o' Barley
+
+Montgomery's Peggy
+
+The Mauchline Lady
+
+The Highland Lassie
+
+Peggy
+
+The rantin' Dog the Daddie o't
+
+"My heart was ance as blithe and free"
+
+My Nannie O
+
+A Fragment. "One night as I did wander"
+
+Bonnie Peggy Alison
+
+Green grow the Rashes, O
+
+My Jean
+
+Robin
+
+"Her flowing locks, the raven's wing"
+
+"O leave novels, ye Mauchline belles"
+
+Young Peggy
+
+The Cure for all Care
+
+Eliza
+
+The Sons of Old Killie
+
+And maun I still on Menie doat
+
+The Farewell to the Brethren of St. James's Lodge, Tarbolton
+
+On Cessnock Banks
+
+Mary
+
+The Lass of Ballochmyle
+
+"The gloomy night is gathering fast"
+
+"O whar did ye get that hauver meal bannock?"
+
+The Joyful Widower
+
+"O Whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad"
+
+"I am my mammy's ae bairn"
+
+The Birks of Aberfeldy
+
+Macpherson's Farewell
+
+Braw, braw Lads of Galla Water
+
+"Stay, my charmer, can you leave me?"
+
+Strathallan's Lament
+
+My Hoggie
+
+Her Daddie forbad, her Minnie forbad
+
+Up in the Morning early
+
+The young Highland Rover
+
+Hey the dusty Miller
+
+Duncan Davison
+
+Theniel Menzies' bonnie Mary
+
+The Banks of the Devon
+
+Weary fa' you, Duncan Gray
+
+The Ploughman
+
+Landlady, count the Lawin
+
+"Raving winds around her blowing"
+
+"How long and dreary is the night"
+
+Musing on the roaring Ocean
+
+Blithe, blithe and merry was she
+
+The blude red rose at Yule may blaw
+
+O'er the Water to Charlie
+
+A Rose-bud by my early walk
+
+Rattlin', roarin' Willie
+
+Where braving angry Winter's Storms
+
+Tibbie Dunbar
+
+Bonnie Castle Gordon
+
+My Harry was a gallant gay
+
+The Tailor fell through the bed, thimbles an' a'
+
+Ay Waukin O!
+
+Beware o' Bonnie Ann
+
+The Gardener wi' his paidle
+
+Blooming Nelly
+
+The day returns, my bosom burns
+
+My Love she's but a lassie yet
+
+Jamie, come try me
+
+Go fetch to me a Pint O' Wine
+
+The Lazy Mist
+
+O mount and go
+
+Of a' the airts the wind can blaw
+
+Whistle o'er the lave o't
+
+O were I on Parnassus' Hill
+
+"There's a youth in this city"
+
+My heart's in the Highlands
+
+John Anderson, my Jo
+
+Awa, Whigs, awa
+
+Ca' the Ewes to the Knowes
+
+Merry hae I been teethin' a heckle
+
+The Braes of Ballochmyle
+
+To Mary in Heaven
+
+Eppie Adair
+
+The Battle of Sherriff-muir
+
+Young Jockey was the blithest lad
+
+O Willie brewed a peck o' maut
+
+The braes o' Killiecrankie, O
+
+I gaed a waefu' gate yestreen
+
+The Banks of Nith
+
+Tam Glen
+
+Frae the friends and land I love
+
+Craigie-burn Wood
+
+Cock up your Beaver
+
+O meikle thinks my luve o' my beauty
+
+Gudewife, count the Lawin
+
+There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame
+
+The bonnie lad that's far awa
+
+I do confess thou art sae fair
+
+Yon wild mossy mountains sae lofty and wide
+
+It is na, Jean, thy bonnie face
+
+When I think on the happy days
+
+Whan I sleep I dream
+
+"I murder hate by field or flood"
+
+O gude ale comes and gude ale goes
+
+Robin shure in hairst
+
+Bonnie Peg
+
+Gudeen to you, Kimmer
+
+Ah, Chloris, since it may na be
+
+Eppie M'Nab
+
+Wha is that at my bower-door
+
+What can a young lassie do wi' an auld man
+
+Bonnie wee thing, cannie wee thing
+
+The tither morn when I forlorn
+
+Ae fond kiss, and then we sever
+
+Lovely Davies
+
+The weary Pond o' Tow
+
+Naebody
+
+An O for ane and twenty, Tam
+
+O Kenmure's on and awa, Willie
+
+The Collier Laddie
+
+Nithsdale's Welcome Hame
+
+As I was a-wand'ring ae Midsummer e'enin
+
+Bessy and her Spinning-wheel
+
+The Posie
+
+The Country Lass
+
+Turn again, thou fair Eliza
+
+Ye Jacobites by name
+
+Ye flowery banks o'bonnie Doon
+
+Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon
+
+Willie Wastle
+
+O Lady Mary Ann
+
+Such a parcel of rogues in a nation
+
+The Carle of Kellyburn braes
+
+Jockey's ta'en the parting kiss
+
+Lady Onlie
+
+The Chevalier's Lament
+
+Song of Death
+
+Flow gently, sweet Afton
+
+Bonnie Bell
+
+Hey ca' thro', ca' thro'
+
+The Gallant weaver
+
+The deuks dang o'er my Daddie
+
+She's fair and fause
+
+The Deil cam' fiddling thro' the town
+
+The lovely Lass of Inverness
+
+O my luve's like a red, red rose
+
+Louis, what reck I by thee
+
+Had I the wyte she bade me
+
+Coming through the rye
+
+Young Jamie, pride of a' the plain
+
+Out over the Forth I look to the north
+
+The Lass of Ecclefechan
+
+The Cooper o' Cuddie
+
+For the sake of somebody
+
+I coft a stane o' haslock woo
+
+The lass that made the bed for me
+
+Sae far awa
+
+I'll ay ca' in by yon town
+
+O wat ye wha's in yon town
+
+O May, thy morn
+
+Lovely Polly Stewart
+
+Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie
+
+Anna, thy charms my bosom fire
+
+Cassilis' Banks
+
+To thee, lov'd Nith
+
+Bannocks o' Barley
+
+Hee Balou! my sweet wee Donald
+
+Wae is my heart, and the tear's in my e'e
+
+Here's his health in water
+
+My Peggy's face, my Peggy's form
+
+Gloomy December
+
+My lady's gown, there's gairs upon 't
+
+Amang the trees, where humming bees
+
+The gowden locks of Anna
+
+My ain kind dearie, O
+
+Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary
+
+She is a winsome wee thing
+
+Bonny Leslie
+
+Highland Mary
+
+Auld Rob Morris
+
+Duncan Gray
+
+O poortith cauld, and restless love
+
+Galla Water
+
+Lord Gregory
+
+Mary Morison
+
+Wandering Willie. First Version
+
+Wandering Willie. Last Version
+
+Oh, open the door to me, oh!
+
+Jessie
+
+The poor and honest sodger
+
+Meg o' the Mill
+
+Blithe hae I been on yon hill
+
+Logan Water
+
+"O were my love yon lilac fair"
+
+Bonnie Jean
+
+Phillis the fair
+
+Had I a cave on some wild distant shore
+
+By Allan stream
+
+O Whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad
+
+Adown winding Nith I did wander
+
+Come, let me take thee to my breast
+
+Daintie Davie
+
+Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled. First Version
+
+Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled. Second Version
+
+Behold the hour, the boat arrives
+
+Thou hast left me ever, Jamie
+
+Auld lang syne
+
+"Where are the joys I have met in the morning"
+
+"Deluded swain, the pleasure"
+
+Nancy
+
+Husband, husband, cease your strife
+
+Wilt thou be my dearie?
+
+But lately seen in gladsome green
+
+"Could aught of song declare my pains"
+
+Here's to thy health, my bonnie lass
+
+It was a' for our rightfu' king
+
+O steer her up and haud her gaun
+
+O ay my wife she dang me
+
+O wert thou in the cauld blast
+
+The Banks of Cree
+
+On the seas and far away
+
+Ca' the Yowes to the Knowes
+
+Sae flaxen were her ringlets
+
+O saw ye my dear, my Phely?
+
+How lang and dreary is the night
+
+Let not woman e'er complain
+
+The Lover's Morning Salute to his Mistress
+
+My Chloris, mark how green the groves
+
+Youthful Chloe, charming Chloe
+
+Lassie wi' the lint-white locks
+
+Farewell, thou stream, that winding flows
+
+O Philly, happy be the day
+
+Contented wi' little and cantie wi' mair
+
+Canst thou leave me thus, my Katy
+
+My Nannie's awa
+
+O wha is she that lo'es me
+
+Caledonia
+
+O lay thy loof in mine, lass
+
+The Fete Champetre
+
+Here's a health to them that's awa
+
+For a' that, and a' that
+
+Craigieburn Wood
+
+O lassie, art thou sleeping yet
+
+O tell na me o' wind and rain
+
+The Dumfries Volunteers
+
+Address to the Wood-lark
+
+On Chloris being ill
+
+Their groves o' sweet myrtle let foreign lands reckon
+
+'Twas na her bonnie blue een was my ruin
+
+How cruel are the parents
+
+Mark yonder pomp of costly fashion
+
+O this is no my ain lassie
+
+Now Spring has clad the grove in green
+
+O bonnie was yon rosy brier
+
+Forlorn my love, no comfort near
+
+Last May a braw wooer cam down the lang glen
+
+Chloris
+
+The Highland Widow's Lament
+
+To General Dumourier
+
+Peg-a-Ramsey
+
+There was a bonnie lass
+
+O Mally's meek, Mally's sweet
+
+Hey for a lass wi' a tocher
+
+Jessy. "Here's a health to ane I lo'e dear"
+
+Fairest Maid on Devon banks
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+GENERAL CORRESPONDENCE.
+
+
+1781.
+
+No. I. To William Burness. His health a little better, but tired of
+life. The Revelations
+
+1783.
+
+II. To Mr. John Murdoch. His present studies and temper of mind
+
+III. To Mr. James Burness. His father's illness, and sad state of the
+country
+
+IV. To Miss E. Love
+
+V. To Miss E. Love
+
+VI. To Miss E. Love
+
+VII. To Miss E. On her refusal of his hand
+
+VIII. To Robert Riddel, Esq. Observations on poetry and human life
+
+
+1784.
+
+IX. To Mr. James Burness. On the death of his father
+
+X. To Mr. James Burness. Account of the Buchanites
+
+XI. To Miss ----. With a book
+
+
+1786.
+
+XII. To Mr. John Richmond. His progress in poetic composition
+
+XIII. To Mr. John Kennedy. The Cotter's Saturday Night
+
+XIV. To Mr. Robert Muir. Enclosing his "Scotch Drink"
+
+XV. To Mr. Aiken. Enclosing a stanza on the blank leaf of a book by
+Hannah More
+
+XVI. To Mr. M'Whinnie, Subscriptions
+
+XVII. To Mr. John Kennedy. Enclosing "The Gowan"
+
+XVIII. To Mon. James Smith. His voyage to the West Indies
+
+XIX. To Mr. John Kennedy. His poems in the press. Subscriptions
+
+XX. To Mr. David Brice. Jean Armour's return,--printing his poems
+
+XXI. To Mr. Robert Aiken. Distress of mind
+
+XXII. To Mr. John Richmond. Jean Armour
+
+XXIII. To John Ballantyne, Esq. Aiken's coldness. His marriage-lines
+destroyed
+
+XXIV. To Mr. David Brice. Jean Armour. West Indies
+
+XXV. To Mr. John Richmond. West Indies The Armours
+
+XXVI. To Mr. Robert Muir. Enclosing "The Calf"
+
+XXVII. To Mrs. Dunlop. Thanks for her notice. Sir William Wallace
+
+XXVIII. To Mr. John Kennedy. Jamaica
+
+XXIX. To Mr. James Burness. His departure uncertain
+
+XXX. To Miss Alexander. "The Lass of Ballochmyle"
+
+XXXI. To Mrs. Stewart, of Stair and Afton. Enclosing some songs. Miss
+Alexander
+
+XXXII. Proclamation in the name of the Muses
+
+XXXIII. To Mr. Robert Muir. Enclosing "Tam Samson." His Edinburgh
+expedition
+
+XXXIV. To Dr. Mackenzie. Enclosing the verses on dining with Lord Daer
+
+XXXV. To Gavin Hamilton, Esq. Rising fame. Patronage
+
+XXXVI. To John Ballantyne, Esq. His patrons and patronesses. The
+Lounger
+
+XXXVII. To Mr. Robert Muir. A note of thanks. Talks of sketching the
+history of his life
+
+XXXVIII. To Mr. William Chalmers. A humorous sally
+
+
+1787.
+
+XXXIX. To the Earl of Eglinton. Thanks for his patronage
+
+XL. To Gavin Hamilton, Esq. Love
+
+XLI. To John Ballantyne, Esq. Mr. Miller's offer of a farm
+
+XLII. To John Ballantyne, Esq. Enclosing "The Banks o' Doon." First
+Copy
+
+XLIII. To Mrs. Dunlop. Dr. Moore and Lord Eglinton. His situation in
+Edinburgh
+
+XLIV. To Dr. Moore. Acknowledgments for his notice
+
+XLV. To the Rev. G. Lowrie. Reflections on his situation in life. Dr.
+Blacklock, Mackenzie
+
+XLVI. To Dr. Moore. Miss Williams
+
+XLVII. To John Ballantyne, Esq. His portrait engraving
+
+XLVIII. To the Earl of Glencairn. Enclosing "Lines intended to be
+written under a noble Earl's picture"
+
+XLIX. To the Earl of Buchan. In reply to a letter of advice
+
+L. To Mr. James Candlish. Still "the old man with his deeds"
+
+LI. To ----. On Fergusson's headstone
+
+LII. To Mrs. Dunlop. His prospects on leaving Edinburgh 341
+
+LIII. To Mrs. Dunlop. A letter of acknowledgment for the payment of
+the subscription
+
+LIV. To Mr. Sibbald. Thanks for his notice in the magazine
+
+LV. To Dr. Moore. Acknowledging the present of his View of Society
+
+LVI. To Mr. Dunlop. Reply to criticisms
+
+LVII. To the Rev. Dr. Hugh Blair. On leaving Edinburgh. Thanks for his
+kindness
+
+LVIII. To the Earl of Glencairn. On leaving Edinburgh
+
+LIX. To Mr. William Dunbar. Thanking him for the present of Spenser's
+poems
+
+LX. To Mr. James Johnson. Sending a song to the Scots Musical Museum
+
+LXI. To Mr. William Creech. His tour on the Border. Epistle in verse
+to Creech
+
+LXII. To Mr. Patison. Business
+
+LXIII. To Mr. W. Nicol. A ride described in broad Scotch
+
+LXIV. To Mr. James Smith. Unsettled in life. Jamaica
+
+LXV. To Mr. W. Nicol. Mr. Miller, Mr. Burnside. Bought a pocket Milton
+
+LXVI. To Mr. James Candlish. Seeking a copy of Lowe's poem of
+"Pompey's Ghost"
+
+LXVII. To Robert Ainslie, Esq. His tour
+
+LXVIII. To Mr. W. Nicol. Auchtertyre
+
+LXIX. To Mr. Wm. Cruikshank. Auchtertyre
+
+LXX. To Mr. James Smith. An adventure
+
+LXXI. To Mr. John Richmond. His rambles
+
+LXXII. To Mr. Robert Ainslie. Sets high value on his friendship
+
+LXXIII. To the same. Nithsdale and Edinburgh
+
+LXXIV. To Dr. Moore. Account of his own life
+
+LXXV. To Mr. Robert Ainslie. A humorous letter
+
+LXXVI. To Mr. Robert Muir. Stirling, Bannockburn
+
+LXXVII. To Gavin Hamilton, Esq. Of Mr. Hamilton's own family
+
+LXXVIII. To Mr. Walker. Bruar Water. The Athole family
+
+LXXIX. To Mr. Gilbert Burns. Account of his Highland tour
+
+LXXX. To Miss Margaret Chalmers. Charlotte Hamilton. Skinner.
+Nithsdale
+
+LXXXI. To the same. Charlotte Hamilton, and "The Banks of the Devon"
+
+LXXXII. To James Hoy, Esq. Mr. Nicol. Johnson's Musical Museum
+
+LXXXIII. To Rev. John Skinner. Thanking him for his poetic compliment
+
+LXXXIV. To James Hoy, Esq. Song by the Duke of Gordon
+
+LXXXV. To Mr. Robert Ainslie. His friendship for him
+
+LXXXVI. To the Earl of Glencairn. Requesting his aid in obtaining an
+excise appointment
+
+LXXXVII. To James Dalrymple, Esq. Rhyme. Lord Glencairn
+
+LXXXVIII. To Charles Hay, Esq. Enclosing his poem on the death of the
+Lord President Dundas
+
+LXXXIX. To Miss M----n. Compliments
+
+XC. To Miss Chalmers. Charlotte Hamilton
+
+XCI. To the same. His bruised limb. The Bible. The Ochel Hills
+
+XCII. To the same. His motto--"I dare." His own worst enemy
+
+XCIII. To Sir John Whitefoord. Thanks for his friendship. Of poets
+
+XCIV. To Miss Williams. Comments on her poem of the Slave Trade
+
+XCV. To Mr. Richard Brown. Recollections of early life. Clarinda
+
+XCVI. To Gavin Hamilton, Esq. Prayer for his health
+
+XCVII. To Miss Chalmers. Complimentary poems. Creech
+
+
+1788.
+
+XCVIII. To Mrs. Dunlop. Lowness of spirits. Leaving Edinburgh
+
+XCIX. To the same. Religion
+
+C. To the Rev. John Skinner. Tullochgorum. Skinner's Latin
+
+CI. To Mr. Richard Brown. His arrival in Glasgow
+
+CII. To Mrs. Rose of Kilravock. Recollections of Kilravock
+
+CIII. To Mr. Richard Brown. Friendship. The pleasures of the present
+
+CIV. To Mr. William Cruikshank. Ellisland. Plans in life
+
+CV. To Mr. Robert Ainslie. Ellisland. Edinburgh. Clarinda
+
+CVI. To Mr. Richard Brown. Idleness. Farming
+
+CVII. To Mr. Robert Muir. His offer for Ellisland. The close of life
+
+CVIII. To Miss Chalmers. Taken Ellisland. Miss Kennedy
+
+CIX. To Mrs. Dunlop. Coila's robe
+
+CX. To Mr. Richard Brown. Apologies. On his way to Dumfries from
+Glasgow
+
+CXI. To Mr. Robert Cleghorn. Poet and fame. The air of Captain O'Kean
+
+CXII. To Mr. William Dunbar. Foregoing poetry and wit for farming and
+business
+
+CXIII. To Miss Chalmers. Miss Kennedy. Jean Armour
+
+CXIV. To the same. Creech's rumoured bankruptcy
+
+CXV. To the same. His entering the Excise
+
+CXVI. To Mrs. Dunlop. Fanning and the Excise. Thanks for the loan of
+Dryden and Tasso
+
+CXVII. To Mr. James Smith. Jocularity. Jean Armour
+
+CXVIII. To Professor Dugald Stewart. Enclosing some poetic trifles
+
+CXIX. To Mrs. Dunlop. Dryden's Virgil. His preference of Dryden to
+Pope
+
+CXX. To Mr. Robert Ainslie. His marriage.
+
+CXXI. To Mrs. Dunlop. On the treatment of servants
+
+CXXII. To the same. The merits of Mrs. Burns
+
+CXXIII. To Mr. Robert Ainslie. The warfare of life. Books. Religion
+
+CXXIV. To the same. Miers' profiles
+
+CXXV. To the same. Of the folly of talking of one's private affairs
+
+CXXVI. To Mr. George Lockhart. The Miss Baillies. Bruar Water
+
+CXXVII. To Mr. Peter Hill. With the present of a cheese
+
+CXXVIII. To Robert Graham Esq., of Fintray. The Excise
+
+CXXIX. To Mr. William Cruikshank. Creech. Lines written in Friar's
+Carse Hermitage
+
+CXXX. To Mrs. Dunlop. Lines written at Friar's Carse. Graham of
+Fintray
+
+CXXXI. To the same. Mrs. Burns. Of accomplished young ladies
+
+CXXXII. To the same. Mrs. Miller, of Dalswinton. "The Life and Age of
+Man."
+
+CXXXIII. To Mr. Beugo. Ross and "The Fortunate Shepherdess."
+
+CXXXIV. To Miss Chalmers. Recollections. Mrs. Burns. Poetry
+
+CXXXV. To Mr. Morison. Urging expedition with his clock and other
+furniture for Ellisland
+
+CXXXVI. To Mrs. Dunlop. Mr. Graham. Her criticisms
+
+CXXXVII. To Mr. Peter Hill. Criticism on an "Address to Loch Lomond."
+
+CXXXVIII. To the Editor of the Star. Pleading for the line of the
+Stuarts
+
+CXXXIX. To Mrs. Dunlop. The present of a heifer from the Dunlops
+
+CXL. To Mr. James Johnson. Scots Musical Museum
+
+CXLI. To Dr. Blacklock. Poetical progress. His marriage
+
+CXLII. To Mrs. Dunlop. Enclosing "Auld Lang Syne"
+
+CXLIII. To Miss Davies. Enclosing the song of "Charming, lovely
+Davies"
+
+CXLIV. To Mr. John Tennant. Praise of his whiskey
+
+
+1789.
+
+CXLV. To Mrs. Dunlop. Reflections suggested by the day
+
+CXLVI. To Dr. Moore. His situation and prospects
+
+CXLVII. To Mr. Robert Ainslie. His favourite quotations. Musical
+Museum
+
+CXLVIII. To Professor Dugald Stewart. Enclosing some poems for his
+comments upon
+
+CXLIX. To Bishop Geddes. His situation and prospects
+
+CL. To Mr. James Burness. His wife and farm. Profit from his poems.
+Fanny Burns
+
+CLI. To Mrs. Dunlop. Reflections. His success in song encouraged a
+shoal of bardlings
+
+CLII. To the Rev. Peter Carfrae. Mr. Mylne's poem
+
+CLIII. To Dr. Moore. Introduction. His ode to Mrs. Oswald
+
+CLIV. To Mr. William Burns. Remembrance
+
+CLV. To Mr. Peter Hill. Economy and frugality. Purchase of books
+
+CLVI. To Mrs. Dunlop. Sketch inscribed to the Right Hon. C.J. Fox
+
+CLVII. To Mr. William Burns. Asking him to make his house his home
+
+CLVIII. To Mrs. M'Murdo. With the song of "Bonnie Jean"
+
+CLIX. To Mr. Cunningham. With the poem of "The Wounded Hare"
+
+CLX. To Mr. Samuel Brown. His farm. Ailsa fowling
+
+CLXI. To Mr. Richard Brown. Kind wishes
+
+CLXII. To Mr. James Hamilton. Sympathy
+
+CLXIII. To William Creech, Esq. Toothache. Good wishes
+
+CLXIV. To Mr. M'Auley. His own welfare
+
+CLXV. To Mr. Robert Ainslie. Overwhelmed with incessant toil
+
+CLXVI. To Mr. M'Murdo. Enclosing his newest song
+
+CLXVII. To Mrs. Dunlop. Reflections on religion
+
+CLXVIII. To Mr. ----. Fergusson the poet
+
+CLXIX. To Miss Williams. Enclosing criticisms on her poems
+
+CLXX. To Mr. John Logan. With "The Kirk's Alarm"
+
+CLXXI. To Mrs. Dunlop. Religion. Dr. Moore's "Zeluco"
+
+CLXXII. To Captain Riddel. "The Whistle"
+
+CLXXIII. To the same. With some of his MS. poems
+
+CLXXIV. To Mr. Robert Ainslie. His Excise employment
+
+CLXXV. To Mr. Richard Brown. His Excise duties
+
+CLXXVI. To Robert Graham, Esq., of Fintray. The Excise. Captain Grose.
+Dr. M'Gill
+
+CLXXVII. To Mrs. Dunlop. Reflections on immortality
+
+CLXXVIII. To Lady M.W. Constable. Jacobitism
+
+CLXXIX. To Provost Maxwell. At a loss for a subject
+
+
+1790.
+
+CLXXX. To Sir John Sinclair. Account of a book-society in Nithsdale
+
+CLXXXI. To Charles Sharpe, Esq. A letter with a fictitious signature
+
+CLXXXII. To Mr. Gilburt Burns. His farm a ruinous affair. Players
+
+CLXXXIII. To Mr. Sutherland. Enclosing a Prologue
+
+CLXXXIV. To Mr. William Dunbar. Excise. His children. Another world
+
+CLXXXV. To Mrs. Dunlop. Falconer the poet. Old Scottish songs
+
+CLXXXVI. To Mr. Peter Hill. Mademoiselle Burns. Hurdis. Smollett and
+Cowper
+
+CLXXXVII. To Mr. W. Nicol. The death of Nicol's mare Peg Nicholson
+
+CLXXXVIII. To Mr. W. Cunningham. What strange beings we are
+
+CLXXXIX. To Mr. Peter Hill. Orders for books. Mankind
+
+CXC. To Mrs. Dunlop. Mackenzie and the Mirror and Lounger
+
+CXCI. To Collector Mitchell. A county meeting
+
+CXCII. To Dr. Moore. "Zeluco." Charlotte Smith
+
+CXCIII. To Mr. Murdoch. William Burns
+
+CXCIV. To Mr. M'Murdo. With the Elegy on Matthew Henderson
+
+CXCV. To Mrs. Dunlop. His pride wounded
+
+CXCVI. To Mr. Cunningham. Independence
+
+CXCVII. To Dr. Anderson. "The Bee."
+
+CXCVIII. To William Tytler, Esq. With some West-country ballads
+
+CXCIX. To Crauford Tait, Esq. Introducing Mr. William Duncan
+
+CC. To Crauford Tait, Esq. "The Kirk's Alarm"
+
+CCI. To Mrs. Dunlop. On the birth of her grandchild. Tam O' Shanter
+
+
+1791.
+
+CCII. To Lady M.W. Constable. Thanks for the present of a gold
+snuff-box
+
+CCIII. To Mr. William Dunbar. Not gone to Elysium. Sending a poem
+
+CCIV. To Mr. Peter Mill. Apostrophe to Poverty
+
+CCV. To Mr. Cunningham. Tam O' Shanter. Elegy on Miss Burnet
+
+CCVI. To A.F. Tytler, Esq. Tam O' Shanter
+
+CCVII. To Mrs. Dunlop. Miss Burnet. Elegy writing
+
+CCVIII. To Rev. Arch. Alison. Thanking him for his "Essay on Taste"
+
+CCIX. To Dr. Moore. Tam O' Shanter. Elegy on Henderson. Zeluco. Lord
+Glencairn
+
+CCX. To Mr. Cunningham. Songs
+
+CCXI. To Mr. Alex. Dalzel. The death of the Earl of Glencairn
+
+CCXII. To Mrs. Graham, of Fintray. With "Queen Mary's Lament"
+
+CCXIII. To the same. With his printed Poems
+
+CCXIV. To the Rev. G. Baird. Michael Bruce
+
+CCXV. To Mrs. Dunlop. Birth of a son
+
+CCXVI. To the same. Apology for delay
+
+CCXVII. To the same. Quaint invective on a pedantic critic
+
+CCXVIII. To Mr. Cunningham. The case of Mr. Clarke of Moffat,
+Schoolmaster
+
+CCXIX. To the Earl of Buchan. With the Address to the shade of Thomson
+
+CCXX. To Mr. Thomas Sloan. Apologies. His crop sold well
+
+CCXXI. To Lady E. Cunningham. With the Lament for the Earl of
+Glencairn
+
+CCXXII. To Mr. Robert Ainslie. State of mind. His income
+
+CCXXIII. To Col. Fullarton. With some Poems. His anxiety for
+Fullarton's friendship
+
+CCXXIV. To Miss Davis. Lethargy, Indolence, and Remorse. Our wishes
+and our powers
+
+CCXXV. To Mrs. Dunlop. Mrs. Henri. The Song of Death
+
+
+1792.
+
+CCXXVI. To Mrs. Dunlop. The animadversions of the Board of Excise
+
+CCXXVII. To Mr. William Smellie. Introducing Mrs. Riddel
+
+CCXXVIII. To Mr. W. Nicol. Ironical reply to a letter of counsel and
+reproof
+
+CCXXIX. To Francis Grose, Esq. Dugald Stewart
+
+CCXXX. To the same. Witch stories
+
+CCXXXI. To Mr. S. Clarke. Humorous invitation to teach music to the
+M'Murdo family
+
+CCXXXII. To Mrs. Dunlop. Love and Lesley Baillie
+
+CCXXXIII. To Mr. Cunningham. Lesley Baillie
+
+CCXXXIV. To Mr. Thomson. Promising his assistance to his collection of
+songs and airs
+
+CCXXXV. To Mrs. Dunlop. Situation of Mrs. Henri
+
+CCXXXVI. To the same. On the death of Mrs. Henri
+
+CCXXXVII. To Mr. Thomson. Thomson's fastidiousness. "My Nannie O," &c.
+
+CCXXXVIII. To the same. With "My wife's a winsome wee thing," and
+"Lesley Baillie"
+
+CCXXXIX. To the same. With Highland Mary. The air of Katherine Ogie
+
+CCXL. To the same. Thomson's alterations and observations
+
+CCXLI. To the same. With "Auld Rob Morris," and "Duncan Gray"
+
+CCXLII. To Mrs. Dunlop. Birth of a daughter. The poet Thomson's dramas
+
+CCXLIII. To Robert Graham, Esq., of Fintray. The Excise inquiry into
+his political conduct
+
+CCXLIV. To Mrs. Dunlop. Hurry of business. Excise inquiry
+
+
+1793.
+
+CCXLV. To Mr. Thomson. With "Poortith cauld" and "Galla Water"
+
+CCXLVI. To the same. William Tytler, Peter Pindar
+
+CCXLVII. To Mr. Cunningham. The poet's seal. David Allan
+
+CCXLVIII. To Thomson. With "Mary Morison"
+
+CCCXLIX. To the same. With "Wandering Willie"
+
+CCL. To Miss Benson. Pleasure he had in meeting her
+
+CCLI. To Patrick Miller, Esq. With the present of his printed poems
+
+CCLII. To Mr. Thomson. Review of Scottish song. Crawfurd and Ramsay
+
+CCLIII. To the same. Criticism. Allan Ramsay
+
+CCLIV. To the same. "The last time I came o'er the moor"
+
+CCLV. To John Francis Erskine, Esq. Self-justification. The Excise
+inquiry
+
+CCLVI. To Mr. Robert Ainslie. Answering letters. Scholar-craft
+
+CCLVII. To Miss Kennedy. A letter of compliment
+
+CCLVIII. To Mr. Thomson. Frazer. "Blithe had I been on yon hill"
+
+CCLIX. To Mr. Thomson. "Logan Water." "O gin my love were yon red
+rose"
+
+CCLX. To the same. With the song of "Bonnie Jean"
+
+CCLXI. To the same. Hurt at the idea of pecuniary recompense. Remarks
+on song
+
+CCLXII. To the same. Note written in the name of Stephen Clarke
+
+CCLXIII. To the same. With "Phillis the fair"
+
+CCLXIV. To the same. With "Had I a cave on some wild distant shore"
+
+CCLXV. To the same. With "Allan Water"
+
+CCLXVI. To the same. With "O whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad,"
+&c.
+
+CCLXVII. To the same. With "Come, let me take thee to my breast"
+
+CCLXVIII. To the same. With "Dainty Davie"
+
+CCLXIX. To Miss Craik. Wretchedness of poets
+
+CCLXX. To Lady Glencairn. Gratitude. Excise. Dramatic composition
+
+CCLXXI. To Mr. Thomson. With "Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled"
+
+CCLXXII. To the same. With "Behold the hour, the boat arrive"
+
+CCLXXIII. To the same. Crawfurd and Scottish song
+
+CCLXXIV. To the same. Alterations in "Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled"
+
+CCLXXV. To the same. Further suggested alterations in "Scots wha hae"
+rejected.
+
+CCLXXVI. To the same. With "Deluded swain, the pleasure," and "Raving
+winds around her blowing"
+
+CCLXXVII. To the same. Erskine and Gavin Turnbull
+
+CCLXXVIII. To John M'Murdo, Esq. Payment of a debt. "The Merry Muses"
+
+CCLXXIX. To the same. With his printed poems
+
+CCLXXX. To Captain ----. Anxiety for his acquaintance. "Scots wha hae
+wi' Wallace bled"
+
+CCLXXXI. To Mrs. Riddel. The Dumfries Theatre
+
+
+1794.
+
+CCLXXXII. To a Lady. In favour of a player's benefit
+
+CCLXXXIII. To the Earl of Buchan. With a copy of "Scots wha hae"
+
+CCLXXXIV. To Captain Miller. With a copy of "Scots wha hae"
+
+CCLXXXV. To Mrs. Riddel. Lobster-coated puppies
+
+CCLXXXVI. To the same. The gin-horse class of the human genus
+
+CCLXXXVII. To the same. With "Werter." Her reception of him
+
+CCLXXXVIII. To Mrs. Riddel. Her caprice
+
+CCLXXXIX. To the same. Her neglect and unkindness
+
+CCXC. To John Syme, Esq. Mrs. Oswald, and "O wat ye wha's in yon town"
+
+CCXCI. To Miss ----. Obscure allusions to a friend's death. His
+personal and poetic fame
+
+CCXCII. To Mr. Cunningham. Hypochondria. Requests consolation
+
+CCXCIII. To the Earl of Glencairn. With his printed poems
+
+CCXCIV. To Mr. Thomson. David Allan. "The banks of Cree"
+
+CCXCV. To David M'Culloch, Esq. Arrangements for a trip in Galloway
+
+CCXCVI. To Mrs. Dunlop. Threatened with flying gout. Ode on
+Washington's birthday
+
+CCXCVII. To Mr. James Johnson. Low spirits. The Museum. Balmerino's
+dirk
+
+CCXCVIII. To Mr. Thomson. Lines written in "Thomson's Collection of
+songs"
+
+CCXCIX. To the same. With "How can my poor heart be glad"
+
+CCC. To the same. With "Ca' the yowes to the knowes"
+
+CCCI. To the same. With "Sae flaxen were her ringlets." Epigram to Dr.
+Maxwell.
+
+CCCII. To the same. The charms of Miss Lorimer. "O saw ye my dear, my
+Phely," &c.
+
+CCCIII. To the same. Ritson's Scottish Songs. Love and song
+
+CCCIV. To the same. English songs. The air of "Ye banks and braes o'
+bonnie Doon"
+
+CCCV. To the same. With "O Philly, happy be the day," and "Contented
+wi' little"
+
+CCCVI. To the same. With "Canst thou leave me thus, my Katy"
+
+CCCVII. To Peter Miller, jun., Esq. Excise. Perry's offer to write for
+the Morning Chronicle
+
+CCCVIII. To Mr. Samuel Clarke, jun. A political and personal quarrel.
+Regret
+
+CCCIX. To Mr. Thomson. With "Now in her green mantle blithe nature
+arrays"
+
+
+1795.
+
+CCCX. To Mr. Thomson. With "For a' that and a' that"
+
+CCCXI. To the same. Abuse of Ecclefechan
+
+CCCXII. To the same. With "O stay, sweet warbling woodlark, stay," and
+"The groves of sweet myrtle"
+
+CCCXIII. To the same. With "How cruel are the parents" and "Mark
+yonder pomp of costly fashion"
+
+CCCXIV. To the same. Praise of David Allan's "Cotter's Saturday Night"
+
+CCCXV. To the same. With "This is no my ain Lassie." Mrs. Riddel
+
+CCCXVI. To Mr. Thomson. With "Forlorn, my love, no comfort near"
+
+CCCXVII. To the same. With "Last May a braw wooer," and "Why tell thy
+lover"
+
+CCCXVIII. To Mrs. Riddel. A letter from the grave
+
+CCCXIX. To the same. A letter of compliment. "Anacharsis' Travels"
+
+CCCXX. To Miss Louisa Fontenelle. With a Prologue for her
+benefit-night
+
+CCCXXI. To Mrs. Dunlop. His family. Miss Fontenelle. Cowper's "Task"
+
+CCCXXII. To Mr. Alexander Findlater. Excise schemes
+
+CCCXXIII. To the Editor of the Morning Chronicle. Written for a
+friend. A complaint
+
+CCCXXIV. To Mr. Heron, of Heron. With two political ballads
+
+CCCXXV. To Mrs. Dunlop. Thomson's Collection. Acting as Supervisor of
+Excise
+
+CCCXXVI. To the Right Hon. William Pitt. Address of the Scottish
+Distillers
+
+CCCXXVII. To the Provost, Bailies, and Town Council of Dumfries.
+Request to be made a freeman of the town
+
+
+1796.
+
+CCCXXVIII. To Mrs. Riddel. "Anarcharsis' Travels." The muses
+
+CCCXXIX. To Mrs. Dunlop. His ill-health.
+
+CCCXXX. To Mr. Thomson. Acknowledging his present to Mrs. Burns of a
+worsted shawl
+
+CCCXXXI. To the same. Ill-health. Mrs. Hyslop. Allan's etchings.
+Cleghorn
+
+CCCXXXII. To the same. "Here's a health to ane I loe dear"
+
+CCCXXXIII. To the same. His anxiety to review his songs, asking for
+copies
+
+CCCXXXIV. To Mrs. Riddel. His increasing ill-health
+
+CCCXXXV. To Mr. Clarke, acknowledging money and requesting the loan of
+a further sum
+
+CCCXXXVI. To Mr. James Johnson. The Scots Musical Museum. Request for
+a copy of the collection
+
+CCCXXXVII. To Mr. Cunningham. Illness and poverty, anticipation of
+death
+
+CCCXXXVIII. To Mr. Gilbert Burns. His ill-health and debts
+
+CCCXXXIX. To Mr. James Armour. Entreating Mrs. Armour to come to her
+daughter's confinement
+
+CCCXL. To Mrs. Burns. Sea-bathing affords little relief
+
+CCCXLI. To Mrs. Dunlop. Her friendship. A farewell
+
+CCCXLII. To Mr. Thomson. Solicits the sum of five pounds. "Fairest
+Maid on Devon Banks"
+
+CCCXLIII. To Mr. James Burness. Soliciting the sum of ten pounds
+
+CCCXLIV. To James Gracie, Esq. His rheumatism, &c. &c.--his loss of
+appetite
+
+
+Remarks on Scottish Songs and Ballads
+
+
+The Border Tour
+
+
+The Highland Tour
+
+
+Burns's Assignment of his Works
+
+
+Glossary
+
+
+
+
+LIFE
+
+OF
+
+ROBERT BURNS.
+
+
+Robert Burns, the chief of the peasant poets of Scotland, was born in
+a little mud-walled cottage on the banks of Doon, near "Alloway's auld
+haunted kirk," in the shire of Ayr, on the 25th day of January, 1759.
+As a natural mark of the event, a sudden storm at the same moment
+swept the land: the gabel-wall of the frail dwelling gave way, and the
+babe-bard was hurried through a tempest of wind and sleet to the
+shelter of a securer hovel. He was the eldest born of three sons and
+three daughters; his father, William, who in his native
+Kincardineshire wrote his name Burness, was bred a gardener, and
+sought for work in the West; but coming from the lands of the noble
+family of the Keiths, a suspicion accompanied him that he had been
+out--as rebellion was softly called--in the forty-five: a suspicion
+fatal to his hopes of rest and bread, in so loyal a district; and it
+was only when the clergyman of his native parish certified his loyalty
+that he was permitted to toil. This suspicion of Jacobitism, revived
+by Burns himself, when he rose into fame, seems not to have influenced
+either the feelings, or the tastes of Agnes Brown, a young woman on
+the Doon, whom he wooed and married in December, 1757, when he was
+thirty-six years old. To support her, he leased a small piece of
+ground, which he converted into a nursery and garden, and to shelter
+her, he raised with his own hands that humble abode where she gave
+birth to her eldest son.
+
+The elder Burns was a well-informed, silent, austere man, who endured
+no idle gaiety, nor indecorous language: while he relaxed somewhat the
+hard, stern creed of the Covenanting times, he enforced all the
+work-day, as well as sabbath-day observances, which the Calvinistic
+kirk requires, and scrupled at promiscuous dancing, as the staid of
+our own day scruple at the waltz. His wife was of a milder mood: she
+was blest with a singular fortitude of temper; was as devout of heart,
+as she was calm of mind; and loved, while busied in her household
+concerns, to sweeten the bitterer moments of life, by chanting the
+songs and ballads of her country, of which her store was great. The
+garden and nursery prospered so much, that he was induced to widen his
+views, and by the help of his kind landlord, the laird of Doonholm,
+and the more questionable aid of borrowed money, he entered upon a
+neighbouring farm, named Mount Oliphant, extending to an hundred
+acres. This was in 1765; but the land was hungry and sterile; the
+seasons proved rainy and rough; the toil was certain, the reward
+unsure; when to his sorrow, the laird of Doonholm--a generous
+Ferguson,--died: the strict terms of the lease, as well as the rent,
+were exacted by a harsh factor, and with his wife and children, he was
+obliged, after a losing struggle of six years, to relinquish the farm,
+and seek shelter on the grounds of Lochlea, some ten miles off, in the
+parish of Tarbolton. When, in after-days, men's characters were in the
+hands of his eldest son, the scoundrel factor sat for that lasting
+portrait of insolence and wrong, in the "Twa Dogs."
+
+In this new farm William Burns seemed to strike root, and thrive. He
+was strong of body and ardent of mind: every day brought increase of
+vigour to his three sons, who, though very young, already put their
+hands to the plough, the reap-hook, and the flail. But it seemed that
+nothing which he undertook was decreed in the end to prosper: after
+four seasons of prosperity a change ensued: the farm was far from
+cheap; the gains under any lease were then so little, that the loss of
+a few pounds was ruinous to a farmer: bad seed and wet seasons had
+their usual influence: "The gloom of hermits and the moil of
+galley-slaves," as the poet, alluding to those days, said, were
+endured to no purpose; when, to crown all, a difference arose between
+the landlord and the tenant, as to the terms of the lease; and the
+early days of the poet, and the declining years of his father, were
+harassed by disputes, in which sensitive minds are sure to suffer.
+
+Amid these labours and disputes, the poet's father remembered the
+worth of religious and moral instruction: he took part of this upon
+himself. A week-day in Lochlea wore the sober looks of a Sunday: he
+read the Bible and explained, as intelligent peasants are accustomed
+to do, the sense, when dark or difficult; he loved to discuss the
+spiritual meanings, and gaze on the mystical splendours of the
+Revelations. He was aided in these labours, first, by the
+schoolmaster of Alloway-mill, near the Doon; secondly, by John
+Murdoch, student of divinity, who undertook to teach arithmetic,
+grammar, French, and Latin, to the boys of Lochlea, and the sons of
+five neighboring farmers. Murdoch, who was an enthusiast in learning,
+much of a pedant, and such a judge of genius that he thought wit
+should always be laughing, and poetry wear an eternal smile, performed
+his task well: he found Robert to be quick in apprehension, and not
+afraid to study when knowledge was the reward. He taught him to turn
+verse into its natural prose order; to supply all the ellipses, and
+not to desist till the sense was clear and plain: he also, in their
+walks, told him the names of different objects both in Latin and
+French; and though his knowledge of these languages never amounted to
+much, he approached the grammar of the English tongue, through the
+former, which was of material use to him, in his poetic compositions.
+Burns was, even in those early days, a sort of enthusiast in all that
+concerned the glory of Scotland; he used to fancy himself a soldier of
+the days of the Wallace and the Bruce: loved to strut after the
+bag-pipe and the drum, and read of the bloody struggles of his country
+for freedom and existence, till "a Scottish prejudice," he says, "was
+poured into my veins, which will boil there till the flood-gates of
+life are shut in eternal rest."
+
+In this mood of mind Burns was unconsciously approaching the land of
+poesie. In addition to the histories of the Wallace and the Bruce, he
+found, on the shelves of his neighbours, not only whole bodies of
+divinity, and sermons without limit, but the works of some of the best
+English, as well as Scottish poets, together with songs and ballads
+innumerable. On these he loved to pore whenever a moment of leisure
+came; nor was verse his sole favourite; he desired to drink knowledge
+at any fountain, and Guthrie's Grammar, Dickson on Agriculture,
+Addison's Spectator, Locke on the Human Understanding, and Taylor's
+Scripture Doctrine of Original Sin, were as welcome to his heart as
+Shakspeare, Milton, Pope, Thomson, and Young. There is a mystery in
+the workings of genius: with these poets in his head and hand, we see
+not that he has advanced one step in the way in which he was soon to
+walk, "Highland Mary" and "Tam O' Shanter" sprang from other
+inspirations.
+
+Burns lifts up the veil himself, from the studies which made him a
+poet. "In my boyish days," he says to Moore, "I owed much to an old
+woman (Jenny Wilson) who resided in the family, remarkable for her
+credulity and superstition. She had, I suppose, the largest collection
+in the country of tales and songs, concerning devils, ghosts, fairies,
+brownies, witches, warlocks, spunkies, kelpies, elf-candles,
+dead-lights, wraiths, apparitions, cantraips, giants, enchanted
+towers, dragons, and other trumpery. This cultivated the latent seeds
+of poesie; but had so strong an effect upon my imagination that to
+this hour, in my nocturnal rambles, I sometimes keep a look-out on
+suspicious places." Here we have the young poet taking lessons in the
+classic lore of his native land: in the school of Janet Wilson he
+profited largely; her tales gave a hue, all their own, to many noble
+effusions. But her teaching was at the hearth-stone: when he was in
+the fields, either driving a cart or walking to labour, he had ever in
+his hand a collection of songs, such as any stall in the land could
+supply him with; and over these he pored, ballad by ballad, and verse
+by verse, noting the true, tender, and the natural sublime from
+affectation and fustian. "To this," he said, "I am convinced that I
+owe much of my critic craft, such as it is." His mother, too,
+unconsciously led him in the ways of the muse: she loved to recite or
+sing to him a strange, but clever ballad, called "the Life and Age of
+Man:" this strain of piety and imagination was in his mind when he
+wrote "Man was made to Mourn."
+
+He found other teachers--of a tenderer nature and softer influence.
+"You know," he says to Moore, "our country custom of coupling a man
+and woman together as partners in the labours of harvest. In my
+fifteenth autumn my partner was a bewitching creature, a year younger
+than myself: she was in truth a bonnie, sweet, sonsie lass, and
+unwittingly to herself, initiated me in that delicious passion, which,
+in spite of acid disappointment, gin-horse prudence, and bookworm
+philosophy, I hold to be the first of human joys. How she caught the
+contagion I cannot tell; I never expressly said I loved her: indeed I
+did not know myself why I liked so much to loiter behind with her,
+when returning in the evenings from our labours; why the tones of her
+voice made my heart strings thrill like an AEolian harp, and
+particularly why my pulse beat such a furious ratan, when I looked and
+fingered over her little hand, to pick out the cruel nettle-stings and
+thistles. Among other love-inspiring qualities, she sang sweetly, and
+it was her favourite reel to which I attempted to give an embodied
+vehicle in rhyme; thus with me began love and verse." This intercourse
+with the fair part of the creation, was to his slumbering emotions, a
+voice from heaven to call them into life and poetry.
+
+From the school of traditionary lore and love, Burns now went to a
+rougher academy. Lochlea, though not producing fine crops of corn, was
+considered excellent for flax; and while the cultivation of this
+commodity was committed to his father and his brother Gilbert, he was
+sent to Irvine at Midsummer, 1781, to learn the trade of a
+flax-dresser, under one Peacock, kinsman to his mother. Some time
+before, he had spent a portion of a summer at a school in Kirkoswald,
+learning mensuration and land-surveying, where he had mingled in
+scenes of sociality with smugglers, and enjoyed the pleasure of a
+silent walk, under the moon, with the young and the beautiful. At
+Irvine he laboured by day to acquire a knowledge of his business, and
+at night he associated with the gay and the thoughtless, with whom he
+learnt to empty his glass, and indulge in free discourse on topics
+forbidden at Lochlea. He had one small room for a lodging, for which
+he gave a shilling a week: meat he seldom tasted, and his food
+consisted chiefly of oatmeal and potatoes sent from his father's
+house. In a letter to his father, written with great purity and
+simplicity of style, he thus gives a picture of himself, mental and
+bodily: "Honoured Sir, I have purposely delayed writing, in the hope
+that I should have the pleasure of seeing you on new years' day, but
+work comes so hard upon us that I do not choose to be absent on that
+account. My health is nearly the same as when you were here, only my
+sleep is a little sounder, and on the whole, I am rather better than
+otherwise, though I mend by very slow degrees: the weakness of my
+nerves had so debilitated my mind that I dare neither review past
+wants nor look forward into futurity, for the least anxiety or
+perturbation in my breast produces most unhappy effects on my whole
+frame. Sometimes indeed, when for an hour or two my spirits are a
+little lightened, I _glimmer_ a little into futurity; but my principal
+and indeed my only pleasurable employment is looking backwards and
+forwards in a moral and religious way. I am quite transported at the
+thought that ere long, perhaps very soon, I shall bid an eternal adieu
+to all the pains and uneasinesses, and disquietudes of this weary
+life. As for the world, I despair of ever making a figure in it: I am
+not formed for the bustle of the busy, nor the flutter of the gay. I
+foresee that poverty and obscurity probably await me, and I am in some
+measure prepared and daily preparing to meet them. I have but just
+time and paper to return you my grateful thanks for the lessons of
+virtue and piety you have given me, which were but too much neglected
+at the time of giving them, but which, I hope, have been remembered
+ere it is yet too late." This remarkable letter was written in the
+twenty-second year of his age; it alludes to the illness which seems
+to have been the companion of his youth, a nervous headache, brought
+on by constant toil and anxiety; and it speaks of the melancholy which
+is the common attendant of genius, and its sensibilities, aggravated
+by despair of distinction. The catastrophe which happened ere this
+letter was well in his father's hand, accords ill with quotations from
+the Bible, and hopes fixed in heaven:--"As we gave," he says, "a
+welcome carousal to the new year, the shop took fire, and burnt to
+ashes, and I was left, like a true poet, not worth a sixpence."
+
+This disaster was followed by one more grievous: his father was well
+in years when he was married, and age and a constitution injured by
+toil and disappointment, began to press him down, ere his sons had
+grown up to man's estate. On all sides the clouds began to darken: the
+farm was unprosperous: the speculations in flax failed; and the
+landlord of Lochlea, raising a question upon the meaning of the lease,
+concerning rotation of crop, pushed the matter to a lawsuit, alike
+ruinous to a poor man either in its success or its failure. "After
+three years tossing and whirling," says Burns, "in the vortex of
+litigation, my father was just saved from the horrors of a jail by a
+consumption, which, after two years' promises, kindly slept in and
+carried him away to where the 'wicked cease from troubling and the
+weary are at rest.' His all went among the hell-hounds that prowl in
+the kennel of justice. The finishing evil which brought up the rear of
+this infernal file, was my constitutional melancholy being increased
+to such a degree, that for three months I was in a state of mind
+scarcely to be envied by the hopeless wretches who have got their
+mittimus, 'Depart from me, ye cursed.'"
+
+Robert Burns was now the head of his father's house. He gathered
+together the little that law and misfortune had spared, and took the
+farm of Mossgiel, near Mauchline, containing one hundred and eighteen
+acres, at a rent of ninety pounds a year: his mother and sisters took
+the domestic superintendence of home, barn, and byre; and he
+associated his brother Gilbert in the labours of the land. It was made
+a joint affair: the poet was young, willing, and vigorous, and
+excelled in ploughing, sowing, reaping, mowing, and thrashing. His
+wages were fixed at seven pounds per annum, and such for a time was
+his care and frugality, that he never exceeded this small allowance.
+He purchased books on farming, held conversations with the old and the
+knowing; and said unto himself, "I shall be prudent and wise, and my
+shadow shall increase in the land." But it was not decreed that these
+resolutions were to endure, and that he was to become a mighty
+agriculturist in the west. Farmer Attention, as the proverb says, is a
+good farmer, all the world over, and Burns was such by fits and by
+starts. But he who writes an ode on the sheep he is about to shear, a
+poem on the flower that he covers with the furrow, who sees visions on
+his way to market, who makes rhymes on the horse he is about to yoke,
+and a song on the girl who shows the whitest hands among his reapers,
+has small chance of leading a market, or of being laird of the fields
+he rents. The dreams of Burns were of the muses, and not of rising
+markets, of golden locks rather than of yellow corn: he had other
+faults. It is not known that William Burns was aware before his death
+that his eldest son had sinned in rhyme; but we have Gilbert's
+assurance, that his father went to the grave in ignorance of his son's
+errors of a less venial kind--unwitting that he was soon to give a
+two-fold proof of both in "Rob the Rhymer's Address to his Bastard
+Child"--a poem less decorous than witty.
+
+The dress and condition of Burns when he became a poet were not at all
+poetical, in the minstrel meaning of the word. His clothes, coarse and
+homely, were made from home-grown wool, shorn off his own sheeps'
+backs, carded and spun at his own fireside, woven by the village
+weaver, and, when not of natural hodden-gray, dyed a half-blue in the
+village vat. They were shaped and sewed by the district tailor, who
+usually wrought at the rate of a groat a day and his food; and as the
+wool was coarse, so also was the workmanship. The linen which he wore
+was home-grown, home-hackled, home-spun, home-woven, and
+home-bleached, and, unless designed for Sunday use, was of coarse,
+strong harn, to suit the tear and wear of barn and field. His shoes
+came from rustic tanpits, for most farmers then prepared their own
+leather; were armed, sole and heel, with heavy, broad-headed nails, to
+endure the clod and the road: as hats were then little in use, save
+among small lairds or country gentry, westland heads were commonly
+covered with a coarse, broad, blue bonnet, with a stopple on its flat
+crown, made in thousands at Kilmarnock, and known in all lands by the
+name of scone bonnets. His plaid was a handsome red and white
+check--for pride in poets, he said, was no sin--prepared of fine wool
+with more than common care by the hands of his mother and sisters, and
+woven with more skill than the village weaver was usually required to
+exert. His dwelling was in keeping with his dress, a low, thatched
+house, with a kitchen, a bedroom and closet, with floors of kneaded
+clay, and ceilings of moorland turf: a few books on a shelf, thumbed
+by many a thumb; a few hams drying above head in the smoke, which was
+in no haste to get out at the roof--a wooden settle, some oak chairs,
+chaff beds well covered with blankets, with a fire of peat and wood
+burning at a distance from the gable wall, on the middle of the floor.
+His food was as homely as his habitation, and consisted chiefly of
+oatmeal-porridge, barley-broth, and potatoes, and milk. How the muse
+happened to visit him in this clay biggin, take a fancy to a clouterly
+peasant, and teach him strains of consummate beauty and elegance, must
+ever be a matter of wonder to all those, and they are not few, who
+hold that noble sentiments and heroic deeds are the exclusive portion
+of the gently nursed and the far descended.
+
+Of the earlier verses of Burns few are preserved: when composed, he
+put them on paper, but the kept them to himself: though a poet at
+sixteen, he seems not to have made even his brother his confidante
+till he became a man, and his judgment had ripened. He, however, made
+a little clasped paper book his treasurer, and under the head of
+"Observations, Hints, Songs, and Scraps of Poetry," we find many a
+wayward and impassioned verse, songs rising little above the humblest
+country strain, or bursting into an elegance and a beauty worthy of
+the highest of minstrels. The first words noted down are the stanzas
+which he composed on his fair companion of the harvest-field, out of
+whose hands he loved to remove the nettle-stings and the thistles: the
+prettier song, beginning "Now westlin win's and slaughtering guns,"
+written on the lass of Kirkoswald, with whom, instead of learning
+mensuration, he chose to wander under the light of the moon: a strain
+better still, inspired by the charms of a neighbouring maiden, of the
+name of Annie Ronald; another, of equal merit, arising out of his
+nocturnal adventures among the lasses of the west; and, finally, that
+crowning glory of all his lyric compositions, "Green grow the rashes."
+This little clasped book, however, seems not to have been made his
+confidante till his twenty-third or twenty-fourth year: he probably
+admitted to its pages only the strains which he loved most, or such as
+had taken a place in his memory: at whatever age it was commenced, he
+had then begun to estimate his own character, and intimate his
+fortunes, for he calls himself in its pages "a man who had little art
+in making money, and still less in keeping it."
+
+We have not been told how welcome the incense of his songs rendered
+him to the rustic maidens of Kyle: women are not apt to be won by the
+charms of verse; they have little sympathy with dreamers on Parnassus,
+and allow themselves to be influenced by something more substantial
+than the roses and lilies of the muse. Burns had other claims to their
+regard then those arising from poetic skill: he was tall, young,
+good-looking, with dark, bright eyes, and words and wit at will: he
+had a sarcastic sally for all lads who presumed to cross his path, and
+a soft, persuasive word for all lasses on whom he fixed his fancy: nor
+was this all--he was adventurous and bold in love trystes and love
+excursions: long, rough roads, stormy nights, flooded rivers, and
+lonesome places, were no letts to him; and when the dangers or labours
+of the way were braved, he was alike skilful in eluding vigilant
+aunts, wakerife mothers, and envious or suspicions sisters: for rivals
+he had a blow as ready us he had a word, and was familiar with snug
+stack-yards, broomy glens, and nooks of hawthorn and honeysuckle,
+where maidens love to be wooed. This rendered him dearer to woman's
+heart than all the lyric effusions of his fancy; and when we add to
+such allurements, a warm, flowing, and persuasive eloquence, we need
+not wonder that woman listened and was won; that one of the most
+charming damsels of the West said, an hour with him in the dark was
+worth a lifetime of light with any other body; or that the
+accomplished and beautiful Duchess of Gordon declared, in a latter
+day, that no man ever carried her so completely off her feet as Robert
+Burns.
+
+It is one of the delusions of the poet's critics and biographers, that
+the sources of his inspiration are to be found in the great classic
+poets of the land, with some of whom he had from his youth been
+familiar: there is little or no trace of them in any of his
+compositions. He read and wondered--he warmed his fancy at their
+flame, he corrected his own natural taste by theirs, but he neither
+copied nor imitated, and there are but two or three allusions to Young
+and Shakspeare in all the range of his verse. He could not but feel
+that he was the scholar of a different school, and that his thirst was
+to be slaked at other fountains. The language in which those great
+bards embodied their thoughts was unapproachable to an Ayrshire
+peasant; it was to him as an almost foreign tongue: he had to think
+and feel in the not ungraceful or inharmonious language of his own
+vale, and then, in a manner, translate it into that of Pope or of
+Thomson, with the additional difficulty of finding English words to
+express the exact meaning of those of Scotland, which had chiefly been
+retained because equivalents could not be found in the more elegant
+and grammatical tongue. Such strains as those of the polished Pope or
+the sublimer Milton were beyond his power, less from deficiency of
+genius than from lack of language: he could, indeed, write English
+with ease and fluency; but when he desired to be tender or
+impassioned, to persuade or subdue, he had recourse to the Scottish,
+and he found it sufficient.
+
+The goddesses or the Dalilahs of the young poet's song were, like the
+language in which he celebrated them, the produce of the district; not
+dames high and exalted, but lasses of the barn and of the byre, who
+had never been in higher company than that of shepherds or ploughmen,
+or danced in a politer assembly than that of their fellow-peasants, on
+a barn-floor, to the sound of the district fiddle. Nor even of these
+did he choose the loveliest to lay out the wealth of his verse upon:
+he has been accused, by his brother among others, of lavishing the
+colours of his fancy on very ordinary faces. "He had always," says
+Gilbert, "a jealousy of people who were richer than himself; his love,
+therefore, seldom settled on persons of this description. When he
+selected any one, out of the sovereignty of his good pleasure, to whom
+he should pay his particular attention, she was instantly invested
+with a sufficient stock of charms out of the plentiful stores of his
+own imagination: and there was often a great dissimilitude between his
+fair captivator, as she appeared to others and as she seemed when
+invested with the attributes he gave her." "My heart," he himself,
+speaking of those days, observes, "was completely tinder, and was
+eternally lighted up by some goddess or other." Yet, it must be
+acknowledged that sufficient room exists for believing that Burns and
+his brethren of the West had very different notions of the captivating
+and the beautiful; while they were moved by rosy checks and looks of
+rustic health, he was moved, like a sculptor, by beauty of form or by
+harmony of motion, and by expression, which lightened up ordinary
+features and rendered them captivating. Such, I have been told, were
+several of the lasses of the West, to whom, if he did not surrender
+his heart, he rendered homage: and both elegance of form and beauty of
+face were visible to all in those of whom he afterwards sang--the
+Hamiltons and the Burnets of Edinburgh, and the Millers and M'Murdos
+of the Nith.
+
+The mind of Burns took now a wider range: he had sung of the maidens
+of Kyle in strains not likely soon to die, and though not weary of the
+softnesses of love, he desired to try his genius on matters of a
+sterner kind--what those subjects were he tells us; they were homely
+and at hand, of a native nature and of Scottish growth: places
+celebrated in Roman story, vales made famous in Grecian song--hills of
+vines and groves of myrtle had few charms for him. "I am hurt," thus
+he writes in August, 1785, "to see other towns, rivers, woods, and
+haughs of Scotland immortalized in song, while my dear native county,
+the ancient Baillieries of Carrick, Kyle, and Cunningham, famous in
+both ancient and modern times for a gallant and warlike race of
+inhabitants--a county where civil and religious liberty have ever
+found their first support and their asylum--a county, the birth-place
+of many famous philosophers, soldiers, and statesmen, and the scene of
+many great events recorded in history, particularly the actions of the
+glorious Wallace--yet we have never had one Scotch poet of any
+eminence to make the fertile banks of Irvine, the romantic woodlands
+and sequestered scenes of Ayr. and the mountainous source and winding
+sweep of the Doon, emulate Tay, Forth, Ettrick, and Tweed. This is a
+complaint I would gladly remedy, but, alas! I am far unequal to the
+task, both in genius and education." To fill up with glowing verse the
+outline which this sketch indicates, was to raise the long-laid spirit
+of national song--to waken a strain to which the whole land would
+yield response--a miracle unattempted--certainly unperformed--since
+the days of the Gentle Shepherd. It is true that the tongue of the
+muse had at no time been wholly silent; that now and then a burst of
+sublime woe, like the song of "Mary, weep no more for me," and of
+lasting merriment and humour, like that of "Tibbie Fowler," proved
+that the fire of natural poesie smouldered, if it did not blaze; while
+the social strains of the unfortunate Fergusson revived in the city,
+if not in the field, the memory of him who sang the "Monk and the
+Miller's wife." But notwithstanding these and other productions of
+equal merit, Scottish poesie, it must be owned, had lost much of its
+original ecstasy and fervour, and that the boldest efforts of the
+muse no more equalled the songs of Dunbar, of Douglas, of Lyndsay, and
+of James the Fifth, than the sound of an artificial cascade resembles
+the undying thunders of Corra.
+
+To accomplish this required an acquaintance with man beyond what the
+forge, the change-house, and the market-place of the village supplied;
+a look further than the barn-yard and the furrowed field, and a
+livelier knowledge and deeper feeling of history than, probably, Burns
+ever possessed. To all ready and accessible sources of knowledge he
+appears to have had recourse; he sought matter for his muse in the
+meetings, religious as well as social, of the district--consorted with
+staid matrons, grave plodding farmers--with those who preached as well
+as those who listened--with sharp-tongued attorneys, who laid down the
+law over a Mauchline gill--with country squires, whose wisdom was
+great in the game-laws, and in contested elections--and with roving
+smugglers, who at that time hung, as a cloud, on all the western coast
+of Scotland. In the company of farmers and fellow-peasants, he
+witnessed scenes which he loved to embody in verse, saw pictures of
+peace and joy, now woven into the web of his song, and had a poetic
+impulse given to him both by cottage devotion and cottage merriment.
+If he was familiar with love and all its outgoings and incomings--had
+met his lass in the midnight shade, or walked with her under the moon,
+or braved a stormy night and a haunted road for her sake--he was as
+well acquainted with the joys which belong to social intercourse, when
+instruments of music speak to the feet, when the reek of punchbowls
+gives a tongue to the staid and demure, and bridal festivity, and
+harvest-homes, bid a whole valley lift up its voice and be glad. It is
+more difficult to decide what poetic use he could make of his
+intercourse with that loose and lawless class of men, who, from love
+of gain, broke the laws and braved the police of their country: that
+he found among smugglers, as he says, "men of noble virtues,
+magnanimity, generosity, disinterested friendship, and modesty," is
+easier to believe than that he escaped the contamination of their
+sensual manners and prodigality. The people of Kyle regarded this
+conduct with suspicion: they were not to be expected to know that when
+Burns ranted and housed with smugglers, conversed with tinkers huddled
+in a kiln, or listened to the riotous mirth of a batch of "randie
+gangrel bodies" as they "toomed their powks and pawned their duds,"
+for liquor in Poosie Nansie's, he was taking sketches for the future
+entertainment and instruction of the world; they could not foresee
+that from all this moral strength and poetic beauty would arise.
+
+While meditating something better than a ballad to his mistress's
+eyebrow, he did not neglect to lay out the little skill he had in
+cultivating the grounds of Mossgiel. The prosperity in which he found
+himself in the first and second seasons, induced him to hope that good
+fortune had not yet forsaken him: a genial summer and a good market
+seldom come together to the farmer, but at first they came to Burns;
+and to show that he was worthy of them, he bought books on
+agriculture, calculated rotation of crops, attended sales, held the
+plough with diligence, used the scythe, the reap-hook, and the flail,
+with skill, and the malicious even began to say that there was
+something more in him than wild sallies of wit and foolish rhymes. But
+the farm lay high, the bottom was wet, and in a third season,
+indifferent seed and a wet harvest robbed him at once of half his
+crop: he seems to have regarded this as an intimation from above, that
+nothing which he undertook would prosper: and consoled himself with
+joyous friends and with the society of the muse. The judgment cannot
+be praised which selected a farm with a wet cold bottom, and sowed it
+with unsound seed; but that man who despairs because a wet season robs
+him of the fruits of the field, is unfit for the warfare of life,
+where fortitude is as much required as by a general on a field of
+battle, when the tide of success threatens to flow against him. The
+poet seems to have believed, very early in life, that he was none of
+the elect of Mammon; that he was too much of a genius ever to acquire
+wealth by steady labour, or by, as he loved to call it, gin-horse
+prudence, or grubbing industry.
+
+And yet there were hours and days in which Burns, even when the rain
+fell on his unhoused sheaves, did not wholly despair of himself: he
+laboured, nay sometimes he slaved on his farm; and at intervals of
+toil, sought to embellish his mind with such knowledge as might be
+useful, should chance, the goddess who ruled his lot, drop him upon
+some of the higher places of the land. He had, while he lived at
+Tarbolton, united with some half-dozen young men, all sons of farmers
+in that neighbourhood, in forming a club, of which the object was to
+charm away a few evening hours in the week with agreeable chit-chat,
+and the discussion of topics of economy or love. Of this little
+society the poet was president, and the first question they were
+called on to settle was this, "Suppose a young man bred a farmer, but
+without any fortune, has it in his power to marry either of two women;
+the one a girl of large fortune, but neither handsome in person, nor
+agreeable in conversation, but who can manage the household affairs of
+a farm well enough; the other of them, a girl every way agreeable in
+person, conversation, and behaviour, but without any fortune, which of
+them shall he choose?" This question was started by the poet, and once
+every week the club were called to the consideration of matters
+connected with rural life and industry: their expenses were limited to
+threepence a week; and till the departure of Burns to the distant
+Mossgiel, the club continued to live and thrive; on his removal it
+lost the spirit which gave it birth, and was heard of no more; but its
+aims and its usefulness were revived in Mauchline, where the poet was
+induced to establish a society which only differed from the other in
+spending the moderate fines arising from non-attendance, on books,
+instead of liquor. Here, too, Burns was the president, and the members
+were chiefly the sons of husbandmen, whom he found, he said, more
+natural in their manners, and more agreeable than the self-sufficient
+mechanics of villages and towns, who were ready to dispute on all
+topics, and inclined to be convinced on none. This club had the
+pleasure of subscribing for the first edition of the works of its
+great associate. It has been questioned by his first biographer,
+whether the refinement of mind, which follows the reading of books of
+eloquence and delicacy,--the mental improvement resulting from such
+calm discussions as the Tarbolton and Mauchline clubs indulged in, was
+not injurious to men engaged in the barn and at the plough. A
+well-ordered mind will be strengthened, as well as embellished, by
+elegant knowledge, while over those naturally barren and ungenial all
+that is refined or noble will pass as a sunny shower scuds over lumps
+of granite, bringing neither warmth nor life.
+
+In the account which the poet gives to Moore of his early poems, he
+says little about his exquisite lyrics, and less about "The Death and
+dying Words of Poor Mailie," or her "Elegy," the first of his poems
+where the inspiration of the muse is visible; but he speaks with
+exultation of the fame which those indecorous sallies, "Holy Willie's
+Prayer" and "The Holy Tulzie" brought from some of the clergy, and the
+people of Ayrshire. The west of Scotland is ever in the van, when
+mutters either political or religious are agitated. Calvinism was
+shaken, at this time, with a controversy among its professors, of
+which it is enough to say, that while one party rigidly adhered to the
+word and letter of the Confession of Faith, and preached up the palmy
+and wholesome days of the Covenant, the other sought to soften the
+harsher rules and observances of the kirk, and to bring moderation and
+charity into its discipline as well as its councils. Both believed
+themselves right, both were loud and hot, and personal,--bitter with a
+bitterness only known in religious controversy. The poet sided with
+the professors of the New Light, as the more tolerant were called, and
+handled the professors of the Old Light, as the other party were
+named, with the most unsparing severity. For this he had sufficient
+cause:--he had experienced the mercilessness of kirk-discipline, when
+his frailties caused him to visit the stool of repentance; and
+moreover his friend Gavin Hamilton, a writer in Mauchline, had been
+sharply censured by the same authorities, for daring to gallop on
+Sundays. Moodie, of Riccarton, and Russel, of Kilmarnock, were the
+first who tasted of the poet's wrath. They, though professors of the
+Old Light, had quarrelled, and, it is added, fought: "The Holy
+Tulzie," which recorded, gave at the same time wings to the scandal;
+while for "Holy Willie," an elder of Mauchline, and an austere and
+hollow pretender to righteousness, he reserved the fiercest of all his
+lampoons. In "Holy Willie's Prayer," he lays a burning hand on the
+terrible doctrine of predestination: this is a satire, daring,
+personal, and profane. Willie claims praise in the singular,
+acknowledges folly in the plural, and makes heaven accountable for his
+sins! in a similar strain of undevout satire, he congratulates Goudie,
+of Kilmarnock, on his Essays on Revealed Religion. These poems,
+particularly the two latter, are the sharpest lampoons in the
+language.
+
+While drudging in the cause of the New Light controversialists, Burns
+was not unconsciously strengthening his hands for worthier toils: the
+applause which selfish divines bestowed on his witty, but graceless
+effusions, could not be enough for one who knew how fleeting the fame
+was which came from the heat of party disputes; nor was he insensible
+that songs of a beauty unknown for a century to national poesy, had
+been unregarded in the hue and cry which arose on account of "Holy
+Willie's Prayer" and "The Holy Tulzie." He hesitated to drink longer
+out of the agitated puddle of Calvinistic controversy, he resolved to
+slake his thirst at the pure well-springs of patriot feeling and
+domestic love; and accordingly, in the last and best of his
+controversial compositions, he rose out of the lower regions of
+lampoon into the upper air of true poetry. "The Holy Fair," though
+stained in one or two verses with personalities, exhibits a scene
+glowing with character and incident and life: the aim of the poem is
+not so much to satirize one or two Old Light divines, as to expose and
+rebuke those almost indecent festivities, which in too many of the
+western parishes accompanied the administration of the sacrament. In
+the earlier days of the church, when men were staid and sincere, it
+was, no doubt, an impressive sight to see rank succeeding rank, of the
+old and the young, all calm and all devout, seated before the tent of
+the preacher, in the sunny hours of June, listening to his eloquence,
+or partaking of the mystic bread and wine; but in these our latter
+days, when discipline is relaxed, along with the sedate and the pious
+come swarms of the idle and the profligate, whom no eloquence can
+edify and no solemn rite affect. On these, and such as these, the poet
+has poured his satire; and since this desirable reprehension the Holy
+Fairs, east as well as west, have become more decorous, if not more
+devout.
+
+His controversial sallies were accompanied, or followed, by a series
+of poems which showed that national character and manners, as Lockhart
+has truly and happily said, were once more in the hands of a national
+poet. These compositions are both numerous and various: they record
+the poet's own experience and emotions; they exhibit the highest moral
+feeling, the purest patriotic sentiments, and a deep sympathy with the
+fortunes, both here and hereafter of his fellow-men; they delineate
+domestic manners, man's stern as well as social hours, and mingle the
+serious with the joyous, the sarcastic with the solemn, the mournful
+with the pathetic, the amiable with the gay, and all with an ease and
+unaffected force and freedom known only to the genius of Shakspeare.
+In "The Twa Dogs" he seeks to reconcile the labourer to his lot, and
+intimates, by examples drawn from the hall as well as the cottage,
+that happiness resides in the humblest abodes, and is even partial to
+the clouted shoe. In "Scotch Drink" he excites man to love his
+country, by precepts both heroic and social; and proves that while
+wine and brandy are the tipple of slaves, whiskey and ale are the
+drink of the free: sentiments of a similar kind distinguish his
+"Earnest Cry and Prayer to the Scotch Representatives in the House of
+Commons," each of whom he exhorts by name to defend the remaining
+liberties and immunities of his country. A higher tone distinguishes
+the "Address to the Deil:" he records all the names, and some of them
+are strange ones; and all the acts, and some of them are as whimsical
+as they are terrible, of this far kenned and noted personage; to these
+he adds some of the fiend's doings as they stand in Scripture,
+together with his own experiences; and concludes by a hope, as
+unexpected as merciful and relenting, that Satan may not be exposed to
+an eternity of torments. "The Dream" is a humorous sally, and may be
+almost regarded as prophetic. The poet feigns himself present, in
+slumber, at the Royal birth-day; and supposes that he addresses his
+majesty, on his household matters as well as the affairs of the
+nation. Some of the princes, it has been satirically hinted, behaved
+afterwards in such a way as if they wished that the scripture of the
+Burns should be fulfilled: in this strain, he has imitated the license
+and equalled the wit of some of the elder Scottish Poets.
+
+"The Vision" is wholly serious; it exhibits the poet in one of those
+fits of despondency which the dull, who have no misgivings, never
+know: he dwells with sarcastic bitterness on the opportunities which,
+for the sake of song, he has neglected of becoming wealthy, and is
+drawing a sad parallel between rags and riches, when the muse steps in
+and cheer his despondency, by assuring him of undying fame.
+"Halloween" is a strain of a more homely kind, recording the
+superstitious beliefs, and no less superstitious doings of Old
+Scotland, on that night, when witches and elves and evil spirits are
+let loose among the children of men: it reaches far back into manners
+and customs, and is a picture, curious and valuable. The tastes and
+feelings of husbandmen inspired "The old Farmer's Address to his old
+mare Maggie," which exhibits some pleasing recollections of his days
+of courtship and hours of sociality. The calm, tranquil picture of
+household happiness and devotion in "the Cotter's Saturday Night," has
+induced Hogg, among others, to believe that it has less than usual of
+the spirit of the poet, but it has all the spirit that was required;
+the toil of the week has ceased, the labourer has returned to his
+well-ordered home--his "cozie ingle and his clean hearth-stane,"--and
+with his wife and children beside him, turns his thoughts to the
+praise of that God to whom he owes all: this he performs with a
+reverence and an awe, at once natural, national, and poetic. "The
+Mouse" is a brief and happy and very moving poem: happy, for it
+delineates, with wonderful truth and life, the agitation of the mouse
+when the coulter broke into its abode; and moving, for the poet takes
+the lesson of ruin to himself, and feels the present and dreads the
+future. "The Mountain Daisy," once, more properly, called by Burns
+"The Gowan," resembles "The Mouse" in incident and in moral, and is
+equally happy, in language and conception. "The Lament" is a dark, and
+all but tragic page, from the poet's own life. "Man was made to
+Mourn'" takes the part of the humble and the homeless, against the
+coldness and selfishness of the wealthy and the powerful, a favourite
+topic of meditation with Burns. He refrained, for awhile, from making
+"Death and Doctor Hernbook" public; a poem which deviates from the
+offensiveness of personal satire, into a strain of humour, at once
+airy and original.
+
+His epistles in verse may be reckoned amongst his happiest
+productions: they are written in all moods of mind, and are, by turns,
+lively and sad; careless and serious;--now giving advice, then taking
+it; laughing at learning, and lamenting its want; scoffing at
+propriety and wealth, yet admitting, that without the one he cannot be
+wise, nor wanting the other, independent. The Epistle to David Sillar
+is the first of these compositions: the poet has no news to tell, and
+no serious question to ask: he has only to communicate his own
+emotions of joy, or of sorrow, and these he relates and discusses with
+singular elegance as well as ease, twining, at the same time, into the
+fabric of his composition, agreeable allusions to the taste and
+affections of his correspondent. He seems to have rated the intellect
+of Sillar as the highest among his rustic friends: he pays him more
+deference, and addresses him in a higher vein than he observes to
+others. The Epistles to Lapraik, to Smith, and to Rankine, are in a
+more familiar, or social mood, and lift the veil from the darkness of
+the poet's condition, and exhibit a mind of first-rate power, groping,
+and that surely, its way to distinction, in spite of humility of
+birth, obscurity of condition, and the coldness of the wealthy or the
+titled. The epistles of other poets owe some of their fame to the rank
+or the reputation of those to whom they are addressed; those of Burns
+are written, one and all, to nameless and undistinguished men. Sillar
+was a country schoolmaster, Lapraik a moorland laird, Smith a small
+shop-keeper, and Rankine a farmer, who loved a gill and a joke. Yet
+these men were the chief friends, the only literary associates of the
+poet, during those early years, in which, with some exceptions, his
+finest works were written.
+
+Burns, while he was writing the poems, the chief of which we have
+named, was a labouring husbandman on the little farm of Mossgiel, a
+pursuit which affords but few leisure hours for either reading or
+pondering; but to him the stubble-field was musing-ground, and the
+walk behind the plough, a twilight saunter on Parnassus. As, with a
+careful hand and a steady eye, he guided his horses, and saw an evenly
+furrow turned up by the share, his thoughts were on other themes; he
+was straying in haunted glens, when spirits have power--looking in
+fancy on the lasses "skelping barefoot," in silks and in scarlets, to
+a field-preaching--walking in imagination with the rosy widow, who on
+Halloween ventured to dip her left sleeve in the burn, where three
+lairds' lands met--making the "bottle clunk," with joyous smugglers,
+on a lucky run of gin or brandy--or if his thoughts at all approached
+his acts--he was moralizing on the daisy oppressed by the furrow which
+his own ploughshare had turned. That his thoughts were thus wandering
+we have his own testimony, with that of his brother Gilbert; and were
+both wanting, the certainty that he composed the greater part of his
+immortal poems in two years, from the summer of 1784 to the summer of
+1786, would be evidence sufficient. The muse must have been strong
+within him, when, in spite of the rains and sleets of the
+"ever-dropping west"--when in defiance of the hot and sweaty brows
+occasioned by reaping and thrashing--declining markets, and showery
+harvests--the clamour of his laird for his rent, and the tradesman for
+his account, he persevered in song, and sought solace in verse, when
+all other solace was denied him.
+
+The circumstances under which his principal poems were composed, have
+been related: the "Lament of Mailie" found its origin in the
+catastrophe of a pet ewe; the "Epistle to Sillar" was confided by the
+poet to his brother while they were engaged in weeding the kale-yard;
+the "Address to the Deil" was suggested by the many strange portraits
+which belief or fear had drawn of Satan, and was repeated by the one
+brother to the other, on the way with their carts to the kiln, for
+lime; the "Cotter's Saturday Night" originated in the reverence with
+which the worship of God was conducted in the family of the poet's
+father, and in the solemn tone with which he desired his children to
+compose themselves for praise and prayer; "the Mouse," and its moral
+companion "the Daisy," were the offspring of the incidents which they
+relate; and "Death and Doctor Hornbook" was conceived at a
+freemason-meeting, where the hero of the piece had shown too much of
+the pedant, and composed on his way home, after midnight, by the poet,
+while his head was somewhat dizzy with drink. One of the most
+remarkable of his compositions, the "Jolly Beggars," a drama, to which
+nothing in the language of either the North or South can be compared,
+and which was unknown till after the death of the author, was
+suggested by a scene which he saw in a low ale-house, into which, on a
+Saturday night, most of the sturdy beggars of the district had met to
+sell their meal, pledge their superfluous rags, and drink their gains.
+It may be added, that he loved to walk in solitary spots; that his
+chief musing-ground was the banks of the Ayr; the season most
+congenial to his fancy that of winter, when the winds were heard in
+the leafless woods, and the voice of the swollen streams came from
+vale and hill; and that he seldom composed a whole poem at once, but
+satisfied with a few fervent verses, laid the subject aside, till the
+muse summoned him to another exertion of fancy. In a little back
+closet, still existing in the farm-house of Mossgiel, he committed
+most of his poems to paper.
+
+But while the poet rose, the farmer sank. It was not the cold clayey
+bottom of his ground, nor the purchase of unsound seed-corn, not the
+fluctuation in the markets alone, which injured him; neither was it
+the taste for freemason socialities, nor a desire to join the mirth of
+comrades, either of the sea or the shore: neither could it be wholly
+imputed to his passionate following of the softer sex--indulgence in
+the "illicit rove," or giving way to his eloquence at the feet of one
+whom he loved and honoured; other farmers indulged in the one, or
+suffered from the other, yet were prosperous. His want of success
+arose from other causes; his heart was not with his task, save by fits
+and starts: he felt he was designed for higher purposes than
+ploughing, and harrowing, and sowing, and reaping: when the sun called
+on him, after a shower, to come to the plough, or when the ripe corn
+invited the sickle, or the ready market called for the measured grain,
+the poet was under other spells, and was slow to avail himself of
+those golden moments which come but once in the season. To this may be
+added, a too superficial knowledge of the art of farming, and a want
+of intimacy with the nature of the soil he was called to cultivate. He
+could speak fluently of leas, and faughs, and fallows, of change of
+seed and rotation of crops, but practical knowledge and application
+were required, and in these Burns was deficient. The moderate gain
+which those dark days of agriculture brought to the economical farmer,
+was not obtained: the close, the all but niggardly care by which he
+could win and keep his crown-piece,--gold was seldom in the farmer's
+hand,--was either above or below the mind of the poet, and Mossgiel,
+which, in the hands of an assiduous farmer, might have made a
+reasonable return for labour, was unproductive, under one who had
+little skill, less economy, and no taste for the task.
+
+Other reasons for his failure have been assigned. It is to the credit
+of the moral sentiments of the husbandmen of Scotland, that when one
+of their class forgets what virtue requires, and dishonours, without
+reparation, even the humblest of the maidens, he is not allowed to go
+unpunished. No proceedings take place, perhaps one hard word is not
+spoken; but he is regarded with loathing by the old and the devout; he
+is looked on by all with cold and reproachful eyes--sorrow is foretold
+as his lot, sure disaster as his fortune; and is these chance to
+arrive, the only sympathy expressed is, "What better could he expect?"
+Something of this sort befel Burns: he had already satisfied the kirk
+in the matter of "Sonsie, smirking, dear-bought Bess," his daughter,
+by one of his mother's maids; and now, to use his own words, he was
+brought within point-blank of the heaviest metal of the kirk by a
+similar folly. The fair transgressor, both for her fathers and her own
+youth, had a large share of public sympathy. Jean Armour, for it is of
+her I speak, was in her eighteenth year; with dark eyes, a handsome
+foot, and a melodious tongue, she made her way to the poet's
+heart--and, as their stations in life were equal, it seemed that they
+had only to be satisfied themselves to render their union easy. But
+her father, in addition to being a very devout man, was a zealot of
+the Old Light; and Jean, dreading his resentment, was willing, while
+she loved its unforgiven satirist, to love him in secret, in the hope
+that the time would come when she might safely avow it: she admitted
+the poet, therefore, to her company in lonesome places, and walks
+beneath the moon, where they both forgot themselves, and were at last
+obliged to own a private marriage as a protection from kirk censure.
+The professors of the Old Light rejoiced, since it brought a scoffing
+rhymer within reach of their hand; but her father felt a twofold
+sorrow, because of the shame of a favourite daughter, and for having
+committed the folly with one both loose in conduct and profane of
+speech. He had cause to be angry, but his anger, through his zeal,
+became tyrannous: in the exercise of what he called a father's power,
+he compelled his child to renounce the poet as her husband and burn
+the marriage-lines; for he regarded her marriage, without the kirk's
+permission, with a man so utterly cast away, as a worse crime than her
+folly. So blind is anger! She could renounce neither her husband nor
+his offspring in a lawful way, and in spite of the destruction of the
+marriage lines, and renouncing the name of wife, she was as much Mrs.
+Burns as marriage could make her. No one concerned seemed to think so.
+Burns, who loved her tenderly, went all but mad when she renounced
+him: he gave up his share of Mossgiel to his brother, and roamed,
+moody and idle, about the land, with no better aim in life than a
+situation in one of our western sugar-isles, and a vague hope of
+distinction as a poet.
+
+How the distinction which he desired as a poet was to be obtained,
+was, to a poor bard in a provincial place, a sore puzzle: there were
+no enterprising booksellers in the western land, and it was not to be
+expected that the printers of either Kilmarnock or Paisley had money
+to expend on a speculation in rhyme: it is much to the honour of his
+native county that the publication which he wished for was at last
+made easy. The best of his poems, in his own handwriting, had found
+their way into the hands of the Ballantynes, Hamiltons, Parkers, and
+Mackenzies, and were much admired. Mrs. Stewart, of Stair and Afton, a
+lady of distinction and taste, had made, accidentally, the
+acquaintance both of Burns and some of his songs, and was ready to
+befriend him; and so favourable was the impression on all hands, that
+a subscription, sufficient to defray the outlay of paper and print,
+was soon filled up--one hundred copies being subscribed for by the
+Parkers alone. He soon arranged materials for a volume, and put them
+into the hands of a printer in Kilmarnock, the Wee Johnnie of one of
+his biting epigrams. Johnnie was startled at the unceremonious freedom
+of most of the pieces, and asked the poet to compose one of modest
+language and moral aim, to stand at the beginning, and excuse some of
+those free ones which followed: Burns, whose "Twa Dogs" was then
+incomplete, finished the poem at a sitting, and put it in the van,
+much to his printer's satisfaction. If the "Jolly Beggars" was omitted
+for any other cause than its freedom of sentiment and language, or
+"Death and Doctor Hornbook" from any other feeling than that of being
+too personal, the causes of their exclusion have remained a secret. It
+is less easy to account for the emission of many songs of high merit
+which he had among his papers: perhaps he thought those which he
+selected were sufficient to test the taste of the public. Before he
+printed the whole, he, with the consent of his brother, altered his
+name from Burness to Burns, a change which, I am told, he in after
+years regretted.
+
+In the summer of the year 1786, the little volume, big with the hopes
+and fortunes of the bard made its appearance: it was entitled simply,
+"Poems, chiefly in the Scottish Dialect; by Robert Burns;" and
+accompanied by a modest preface, saying, that he submitted his book to
+his country with fear and with trembling, since it contained little of
+the art of poesie, and at the best was but a voice given, rude, he
+feared, and uncouth, to the loves, the hopes, and the fears of his own
+bosom. Had a summer sun risen on a winter morning, it could not have
+surprised the Lowlands of Scotland more than this Kilmarnock volume
+surprised and delighted the people, one and all. The milkmaid sang his
+songs, the ploughman repeated his poems; the old quoted both, and
+ever the devout rejoiced that idle verse had at last mixed a tone of
+morality with its mirth. The volume penetrated even into Nithsdale.
+"Keep it out of the way of your children," said a Cameronian divine,
+when he lent it to my father, "lest ye find them, as I found mine,
+reading it on the Sabbath." No wonder that such a volume made its way
+to the hearts of a peasantry whose taste in poetry had been the marvel
+of many writers: the poems were mostly on topics with which they were
+familiar: the language was that of the fireside, raised above the
+vulgarities of common life, by a purifying spirit of expression and
+the exalting fervour of inspiration: and there was such a brilliant
+and graceful mixture of the elegant and the homely, the lofty and the
+low, the familiar and the elevated--such a rapid succession of scenes
+which moved to tenderness or tears; or to subdued mirth or open
+laughter--unlooked for allusions to scripture, or touches of sarcasm
+and scandal--of superstitions to scare, and of humour to
+delight--while through the whole was diffused, as the scent of flowers
+through summer air, a moral meaning--a sentimental beauty, which
+sweetened and sanctified all. The poet's expectations from this little
+venture were humble: he hoped as much money from it as would pay for
+his passage to the West Indies, where he proposed to enter into the
+service of some of the Scottish settlers, and help to manage the
+double mystery of sugar-making and slavery.
+
+The hearty applause which I have recorded came chiefly from the
+husbandman, the shepherd, and the mechanic: the approbation of the
+magnates of the west, though not less-warm, was longer in coming. Mrs.
+Stewart of Stair, indeed, commended the poems and cheered their
+author: Dugald Stewart received his visits with pleasure, and wondered
+at his vigour of conversation as much as at his muse: the door of the
+house of Hamilton was open to him, where the table was ever spread,
+and the hand ever ready to help: while the purses of the Ballantynes
+and the Parkers were always as open to him as were the doors of their
+houses. Those persons must be regarded as the real patrons of the
+poet: the high names of the district are not to be found among those
+who helped him with purse and patronage in 1786, that year of deep
+distress and high distinction. The Montgomerys came with their praise
+when his fame was up; the Kennedys and the Boswells were silent: and
+though the Cunninghams gave effectual aid, it was when the muse was
+crying with a loud voice before him, "Come all and see the man whom I
+delight to honour." It would be unjust as well as ungenerous not to
+mention the name of Mrs. Dunlop among the poet's best and early
+patrons: the distance at which she lived from Mossgiel had kept his
+name from her till his poems appeared: but his works induced her to
+desire his acquaintance, and she became his warmest and surest friend.
+
+To say the truth, Burns endeavoured in every honourable way to obtain
+the notice of those who had influence in the land: he copied out the
+best of his unpublished poems in a fair hand, and inserting them in
+his printed volume, presented it to those who seemed slow to buy: he
+rewarded the notice of this one with a song--the attentions of that
+one with a sally of encomiastic verse: he left psalms of his own
+composing in the manse when he feasted with a divine: he enclosed
+"Holy Willie's Prayer," with an injunction to be grave, to one who
+loved mirth: he sent the "Holy Fair" to one whom he invited to drink a
+gill out of a mutchkin stoup, at Mauchline market; and on accidentally
+meeting with Lord Daer, he immediately commemorated the event in a
+sally of verse, of a strain more free and yet as flattering as ever
+flowed from the lips of a court bard. While musing over the names of
+those on whom fortune had smiled, yet who had neglected to smile on
+him, he remembered that he had met Miss Alexander, a young beauty of
+the west, in the walks of Ballochmyle; and he recorded the impression
+which this fair vision made on him in a song of unequalled elegance
+and melody. He had met her in the woods in July, on the 18th of
+November he sent her the song, and reminded her of the circumstance
+from which it arose, in a letter which it is evident he had laboured
+to render polished and complimentary. The young lady took no notice of
+either the song or the poet, though willing, it is said, to hear of
+both now:--this seems to have been the last attempt he made on the
+taste or the sympathies of the gentry of his native district: for on
+the very day following we find him busy in making arrangements for his
+departure to Jamaica.
+
+For this step Burns had more than sufficient reasons: the profits of
+his volume amounted to little more than enough to waft him across the
+Atlantic: Wee Johnnie, though the edition was all sold, refused to
+risk another on speculation: his friends, both Ballantynes and
+Parkers, volunteered to relieve the printer's anxieties, but the poet
+declined their bounty, and gloomily indented himself in a ship about
+to sail from Greenock, and called on his muse to take farewell of
+Caledonia, in the last song he ever expected to measure in his native
+land. That fine lyric, beginning "The gloomy night is gathering fast,"
+was the offspring of these moments of regret and sorrow. His feelings
+were not expressed in song alone: he remembered his mother and his
+natural daughter, and made an assignment of all that pertained to him
+at Mossgiel--and that was but little--and of all the advantage which a
+cruel, unjust, and insulting law allowed in the proceeds of his poems,
+for their support and behoof. This document was publicly read in the
+presence of the poet, at the market-cross of Ayr, by his friend
+William Chalmers, a notary public. Even this step was to Burns one of
+danger: some ill-advised person had uncoupled the merciless pack of
+the law at his heels, and he was obliged to shelter himself as he best
+could, in woods, it is said, by day and in barns by night, till the
+final hour of his departure came. That hour arrived, and his chest was
+on the way to the ship, when a letter was put into his hand which
+seemed to light him to brighter prospects.
+
+Among the friends whom his merits had procured him was Dr. Laurie, a
+district clergyman, who had taste enough to admire the deep
+sensibilities as well as the humour of the poet, and the generosity to
+make known both his works and his worth to the warm-hearted and
+amiable Blacklock, who boldly proclaimed him a poet of the first rank,
+and lamented that he was not in Edinburgh to publish another edition
+of his poems. Burns was ever a man of impulse: he recalled his chest
+from Greenock; he relinquished the situation he had accepted on the
+estate of one Douglas; took a secret leave of his mother, and, without
+an introduction to any one, and unknown personally to all, save to
+Dugald Stewart, away he walked, through Glenap, to Edinburgh, full of
+new hope and confiding in his genius. When he arrived, he scarcely
+knew what to do: he hesitated to call on the professor; he refrained
+from making himself known, as it has been supposed he did, to the
+enthusiastic Blacklock; but, sitting down in an obscure lodging, he
+sought out an obscure printer, recommended by a humble comrade from
+Kyle, and began to negotiate for a new edition of the Poems of the
+Ayrshire Ploughman. This was not the way to go about it: his barge had
+well nigh been shipwrecked in the launch; and he might have lived to
+regret the letter which hindered his voyage to Jamaica, had he not met
+by chance in the street a gentleman of the west, of the name of
+Dalzell, who introduced him to the Earl of Glencairn, a nobleman whose
+classic education did not hurt his taste for Scottish poetry, and who
+was not too proud to lend his helping hand to a rustic stranger of
+such merit as Burns. Cunningham carried him to Creech, then the Murray
+of Edinburgh, a shrewd man of business, who opened the poet's eyes to
+his true interests: the first proposals, then all but issued, were put
+in the fire, and new ones printed and diffused over the island. The
+subscription was headed by half the noblemen of the north: the
+Caledonian Hunt, through the interest of Glencairn, took six hundred
+copies: duchesses and countesses swelled the list, and such a crowding
+to write down names had not been witnessed since the signing of the
+solemn league and covenant.
+
+While the subscription-papers were filling and the new volume printing
+on a paper and in a type worthy of such high patronage, Burns remained
+in Edinburgh, where, for the winter season, he was a lion, and one of an
+unwonted kind. Philosophers, historians, and scholars had shaken the
+elegant coteries of the city with their wit, or enlightened them with
+their learning, but they were all men who had been polished by polite
+letters or by intercourse with high life, and there was a sameness in
+their very dress as well as address, of which peers and peeresses had
+become weary. They therefore welcomed this rustic candidate for the
+honour of giving wings to their hours of lassitude and weariness, with a
+welcome more than common; and when his approach was announced, the
+polished circle looked for the advent of a lout from the plough, in
+whose uncouth manners and embarrassed address they might find matter
+both for mirth and wonder. But they met with a barbarian who was not at
+all barbarous: as the poet met in Lord Daer feelings and sentiments as
+natural as those of a ploughman, so they met in a ploughman manners
+worthy of a lord: his air was easy and unperplexed: his address was
+perfectly well-bred, and elegant in its simplicity: he felt neither
+eclipsed by the titled nor struck dumb before the learned and the
+eloquent, but took his station with the ease and grace of one born to
+it. In the society of men alone he spoke out: he spared neither his wit,
+his humour, nor his sarcasm--he seemed to say to all--"I am a man, and
+you are no more; and why should I not act and speak like one?"--it was
+remarked, however, that he had not learnt, or did not desire, to conceal
+his emotions--that he commended with more rapture than was courteous,
+and contradicted with more bluntness than was accounted polite. It was
+thus with him in the company of men: when woman approached, his look
+altered, his eye beamed milder; all that was stern in his nature
+underwent a change, and he received them with deference, but with a
+consciousness that he could win their attention as he had won that of
+others, who differed, indeed, from them only in the texture of their
+kirtles. This natural power of rendering himself acceptable to women had
+been observed and envied by Sillar, one of the dearest of his early
+comrades; and it stood him in good stead now, when he was the object to
+whom the Duchess of Gordon, the loveliest as well as the wittiest of
+women--directed her discourse. Burns, she afterwards said, won the
+attention of the Edinburgh ladies by a deferential way of address--by an
+ease and natural grace of manners, as new as it was unexpected--that he
+told them the stories of some of his tenderest songs or liveliest poems
+in a style quite magical--enriching his little narratives, which had one
+and all the merit of being short, with personal incidents of humour or
+of pathos.
+
+In a party, when Dr. Blair and Professor Walker were present, Burns
+related the circumstances under which he had composed his melancholy
+song, "The gloomy night is gathering fast," in a way even more
+touching than the verses: and in the company of the ruling beauties of
+the time, he hesitated not to lift the veil from some of the tenderer
+parts of his own history, and give them glimpses of the romance of
+rustic life. A lady of birth--one of his must willing listeners--used,
+I am told, to say, that she should never forget the tale which he
+related of his affection for Mary Campbell, his Highland Mary, as he
+loved to call her. She was fair, he said, and affectionate, and as
+guileless as she was beautiful; and beautiful he thought her in a very
+high degree. The first time he saw her was during one of his musing
+walks in the woods of Montgomery Castle; and the first time he spoke
+to her was during the merriment of a harvest-kirn. There were others
+there who admired her, but he addressed her, and had the luck to win
+her regard from them all. He soon found that she was the lass whom he
+had long sought, but never before found--that her good looks were
+surpassed by her good sense; and her good sense was equalled by her
+discretion and modesty. He met her frequently: she saw by his looks
+that he was sincere; she put full trust in his love, and used to
+wander with him among the green knowes and stream-banks till the sun
+went down and the moon rose, talking, dreaming of love and the golden
+days which awaited them. He was poor, and she had only her half-year's
+fee, for she was in the condition of a servant; but thoughts of gear
+never darkened their dream: they resolved to wed, and exchanged vows
+of constancy and love. They plighted their vows on the Sabbath to
+render them more sacred--they made them by a burn, where they had
+courted, that open nature might be a witness--they made them over an
+open Bible, to show that they thought of God in this mutual act--and
+when they had done they both took water in their hands, and scattered
+it in the air, to intimate that as the stream was pure so were their
+intentions. They parted when they did this, but they parted never to
+meet more: she died in a burning fever, during a visit to her
+relations to prepare for her marriage; and all that he had of her was
+a lock of her long bright hair, and her Bible, which she exchanged for
+his.
+
+Even with the tales which he related of rustic love and adventure his
+own story mingled; and ladies of rank heard, for the first time, that
+in all that was romantic in the passion of love, and in all that was
+chivalrous in sentiment, men of distinction, both by education and
+birth, were at least equalled by the peasantry of the land. They
+listened with interest, and inclined their feathers beside the bard,
+to hear how love went on in the west, and in no case it ran quite
+smooth. Sometimes young hearts were kept asunder by the sordid
+feelings of parents, who could not be persuaded to bestow their
+daughter, perhaps an only one, on a wooer who could not count penny
+for penny, and number cow for cow: sometimes a mother desired her
+daughter to look higher than to one of her station: for her beauty and
+her education entitled her to match among the lairds, rather than the
+tenants; and sometimes, the devotional tastes of both father and
+mother, approving of personal looks and connexions, were averse to
+see a daughter bestow her hand on one, whose language in religion was
+indiscreet, and whose morals were suspected. Yet, neither the
+vigilance of fathers, nor the suspicious care of aunts and mothers,
+could succeed in keeping those asunder whose hearts were together; but
+in these meetings circumspection and invention were necessary: all
+fears were to be lulled by the seeming carelessness of the lass,--all
+perils were to be met and braved by the spirit of the lad. His home,
+perhaps, was at a distance, and he had wild woods to come through, and
+deep streams to pass, before he could see the signal-light, now shown
+and now withdrawn, at her window; he had to approach with a quick eye
+and a wary foot, lest a father or a brother should see, and deter him:
+he had sometimes to wish for a cloud upon the moon, whose light,
+welcome to him on his way in the distance, was likely to betray him
+when near; and he not unfrequently reckoned a wild night of wind and
+rain as a blessing, since it helped to conceal his coming, and proved
+to his mistress that he was ready to brave all for her sake. Of rivals
+met and baffled; of half-willing and half-unconsenting maidens,
+persuaded and won; of the light-hearted and the careless becoming
+affectionate and tender; and the coy, the proud, and the satiric being
+gained by "persuasive words, and more persuasive sighs," as dames had
+been gained of old, he had tales enow. The ladies listened, and smiled
+at the tender narratives of the poet.
+
+Of his appearance among the sons as well as the daughters of men, we
+have the account of Dugald Stewart. "Burns," says the philosopher,
+"came to Edinburgh early in the winter: the attentions which he
+received from all ranks and descriptions of persons, were such as
+would have turned any head but his own. He retained the same
+simplicity of manners and appearance which had struck me so forcibly
+when I first saw him in the country: his dress was suited to his
+station; plain and unpretending, with sufficient attention to
+neatness: he always wore boots, and, when on more than usual ceremony,
+buckskin breeches. His manners were manly, simple, and independent;
+strongly expressive of conscious genius and worth, but without any
+indication of forwardness, arrogance, or vanity. He took his share in
+conversation, but not more than belonged to him, and listened with
+apparent deference on subjects where his want of education deprived
+him of the means of information. If there had been a little more of
+gentleness and accommodation in his temper, he would have been still
+more interesting; but he had been accustomed to give law in the circle
+of his ordinary acquaintance, and his dread of anything approaching to
+meanness or servility, rendered his manner somewhat decided and hard.
+Nothing perhaps was more remarkable among his various attainments,
+than the fluency and precision and originality of language, when he
+spoke in company; more particularly as he aimed at purity in his turn
+of expression, and avoided more successfully than most Scotsmen, the
+peculiarities of Scottish phraseology. From his conversation I should
+have pronounced him to have been fitted to excel in whatever walk of
+ambition he had chosen to exert his abilities. He was passionately
+fond of the beauties of nature, and I recollect he once told me, when
+I was admiring a distant prospect in one of our morning walks, that
+the sight of so many smoking cottages gave a pleasure to his mind,
+which none could understand who had not witnessed, like himself, the
+happiness and worth which cottages contained."
+
+Such was the impression which Burns made at first on the fair, the
+titled, and the learned of Edinburgh; an impression which, though
+lessened by intimacy and closer examination on the part of the men,
+remained unimpaired, on that of the softer sex, till his dying-day.
+His company, during the season of balls and festivities, continued to
+be courted by all who desired to be reckoned gay or polite. Cards of
+invitation fell thick on him; he was not more welcome to the plumed
+and jewelled groups, whom her fascinating Grace of Gordon gathered
+about her, than he was to the grave divines and polished scholars, who
+assembled in the rooms of Stewart, or Blair, or Robertson. The classic
+socialities of Tytler, afterwards Lord Woodhouslee, or the elaborate
+supper-tables of the whimsical Monboddo, whose guests imagined they
+were entertained in the manner of Lucullus or of Cicero, were not
+complete without the presence of the ploughman of Kyle; and the
+feelings of the rustic poet, facing such companies, though of surprise
+and delight at first, gradually subsided, he said, as he discerned,
+that man differed from man only in the polish, and not in the grain.
+But Edinburgh offered tables and entertainers of a less orderly and
+staid character than those I have named--where the glass circulated
+with greater rapidity; where the wit flowed more freely; and where
+there were neither highbred ladies to charm conversation within the
+bounds of modesty, nor serious philosophers, nor grave divines, to set
+a limit to the license of speech, or the hours of enjoyment. To these
+companions--and these were all of the better classes, the levities of
+the rustic poet's wit and humour were as welcome us were the tenderest
+of his narratives to the accomplished Duchess of Gordon and the
+beautiful Miss Burnet of Monboddo; they raised a social roar not at
+all classic, and demanded and provoked his sallies of wild humour, or
+indecorous mirth, with as much delight as he had witnessed among the
+lads of Kyle, when, at mill or forge, his humorous sallies abounded as
+the ale flowed. In these enjoyments the rough, but learned William
+Nicol, and the young and amiable Robert Ainslie shared: the name of
+the poet was coupled with those of profane wits, free livers, and that
+class of half-idle gentlemen who hang about the courts of law, or for
+a season or two wear the livery of Mars, and handle cold iron.
+
+Edinburgh had still another class of genteel convivialists, to whom
+the poet was attracted by principles as well as by pleasure; these
+were the relics of that once numerous body, the Jacobites, who still
+loved to cherish the feelings of birth or education rather than of
+judgment, and toasted the name of Stuart, when the last of the race
+had renounced his pretensions to a throne, for the sake of peace and
+the cross. Young men then, and high names were among them, annually
+met on the pretender's birth-day, and sang songs in which the white
+rose of Jacobitism flourished; toasted toasts announcing adherence to
+the male line of the Bruce and the Stuart, and listened to the strains
+of the laureate of the day, who prophesied, in drink, the dismissal of
+the intrusive Hanoverian, by the right and might of the righteous and
+disinherited line. Burns, who was descended from a northern race,
+whoso father was suspected of having drawn the claymore in 1745, and
+who loved the blood of the Keith-Marishalls, under whose banners his
+ancestors had marched, readily united himself to a band in whose
+sentiments, political and social, he was a sharer. He was received
+with acclamation: the dignity of laureate was conferred upon him, and
+his inauguration ode, in which he recalled the names and the deeds of
+the Grahams, the Erskines, the Boyds, and the Gordons, was applauded
+for its fire, as well as for its sentiments. Yet, though he ate and
+drank and sang with Jacobites, he was only as far as sympathy and
+poesie went, of their number: his reason renounced the principles and
+the religion of the Stuart line; and though he shed a tear over their
+fallen fortunes--though he sympathized with the brave and honourable
+names that perished in their cause--though he cursed "the butcher,
+Cumberland," and the bloody spirit which commanded the heads of the
+good and the heroic to be stuck where they would affright the
+passer-by, and pollute the air--he had no desire to see the splendid
+fabric of constitutional freedom, which the united genius of all
+parties had raised, thrown wantonly down. His Jacobitism influenced,
+not his head, but his heart, and gave a mournful hue to many of his
+lyric compositions.
+
+Meanwhile his poems were passing through the press. Burns made a few
+emendations of those published in the Kilmarnock edition, and he added
+others which, as he expressed it, he had carded and spun, since he
+passed Glenbuck. Some rather coarse lines were softened or omitted in
+the "Twa Dogs;" others, from a change of his personal feelings, were
+made in the "Vision:" "Death and Doctor Hornbook," excluded before,
+was admitted now: the "Dream" was retained, in spite of the
+remonstrances of Mrs. Stewart, of Stair, and Mrs. Dunlop; and the
+"Brigs of Ayr," in compliment to his patrons in his native district,
+and the "Address to Edinburgh," in honour of his titled and
+distinguished friends in that metropolis, were printed for the first
+time. He was unwilling to alter what he had once printed: his friends,
+classic, titled, and rustic, found him stubborn and unpliable, in
+matters of criticism; yet he was generally of a complimental mood: he
+loaded the robe of Coila in the "Vision," with more scenes than it
+could well contain, that he might include in the landscape, all the
+country-seats of his friends, and he gave more than their share of
+commendation to the Wallaces, out of respect to his friend Mrs.
+Dunlop. Of the critics of Edinburgh he said, they spun the thread of
+their criticisms so fine that it was unfit for either warp or weft;
+and of its scholars, he said, they were never satisfied with any
+Scottish poet, unless they could trace him in Horace. One morning at
+Dr. Blair's breakfast-table, when the "Holy Fair" was the subject of
+conversation, the reverend critic said, "Why should
+
+    '--Moody speel the holy door
+        With tidings of _salvation_?'
+
+if you had said, with tidings of _damnation_, the satire would have
+been the better and the bitterer." "Excellent!" exclaimed the poet,
+"the alteration is capital, and I hope you will honour me by allowing
+me to say in a note at whose suggestion it was made." Professor
+Walker, who tells the anecdote, adds that Blair evaded, with equal
+good humour and decision, this not very polite request; nor was this
+the only slip which the poet made on this occasion: some one asked him
+in which of the churches of Edinburgh he had received the highest
+gratification: he named the High-church, but gave the preference over
+all preachers to Robert Walker, the colleague and rival in eloquence
+of Dr. Blair himself, and that in a tone so pointed and decisive as to
+make all at the table stare and look embarrassed. The poet confessed
+afterwards that he never reflected on his blunder without pain and
+mortification. Blair probably had this in his mind, when, on reading
+the poem beginning "When Guildford good our pilot stood," he
+exclaimed, "Ah! the politics of Burns always smell of the smithy,"
+meaning, that they were vulgar and common.
+
+In April, the second or Edinburgh, edition was published: it was
+widely purchased, and as warmly commended. The country had been
+prepared for it by the generous and discriminating criticisms of Henry
+Mackenzie, published in that popular periodical, "The Lounger," where
+he says, "Burns possesses the spirit as well as the fancy of a poet;
+that honest pride and independence of soul, which are sometimes the
+muse's only dower, break forth on every occasion, in his works." The
+praise of the author of the "Man of Feeling" was not more felt by
+Burns, than it was by the whole island: the harp of the north had not
+been swept for centuries by a hand so forcible, and at the same time
+so varied, that it awakened every tone, whether of joy or woe: the
+language was that of rustic life; the scenes of the poems were the
+dusty barn, the clay-floored reeky cottage, and the furrowed field;
+and the characters were cowherds, ploughmen, and mechanics. The volume
+was embellished by a head of the poet from the hand of the now
+venerable Alexander Nasmith; and introduced by a dedication to the
+noblemen and gentlemen of the Caledonian Hunt, in a style of vehement
+independence, unknown hitherto in the history of subscriptions. The
+whole work, verse, prose, and portrait, won public attention, and kept
+it: and though some critics signified their displeasure at expressions
+which bordered on profanity, and at a license of language which they
+pronounced impure, by far the greater number united their praise to
+the all but general voice; nay, some scrupled not to call him, from
+his perfect ease and nature and variety, the Scottish Shakspeare. No
+one rejoiced more in his success and his fame, than the matron of
+Mossgiel.
+
+Other matters than his poems and socialities claimed the attention of
+Burns in Edinburgh. He had a hearty relish for the joyous genius of
+Allan Ramsay; he traced out his residences, and rejoiced to think that
+while he stood in the shop of his own bookseller, Creech, the same
+floor had been trod by the feet of his great forerunner. He visited,
+too, the lowly grave of the unfortunate Robert Fergusson; and it must
+be recorded to the shame of the magistrates of Edinburgh, that they
+allowed him to erect a headstone to his memory, and to the scandal of
+Scotland, that in such a memorial he had not been anticipated. He
+seems not to have regarded the graves of scholars or philosophers; and
+he trod the pavements where the warlike princes and nobles had walked
+without any emotion. He loved, however, to see places celebrated in
+Scottish song, and fields where battles for the independence of his
+country had been stricken; and, with money in his pocket which his
+poems had produced, and with a letter from a witty but weak man, Lord
+Buchan, instructing him to pull birks on the Yarrow, broom on the
+Cowden-knowes, and not to neglect to admire the ruins of Drybrugh
+Abbey, Burns set out on a border tour, accompanied by Robert Ainslie,
+of Berrywell. As the poet had talked of returning to the plough, Dr.
+Blair imagined that he was on his way back to the furrowed field, and
+wrote him a handsome farewell, saying he was leaving Edinburgh with a
+character which had survived many temptations; with a name which would
+be placed with the Ramsays and the Fergussons, and with the hopes of
+all, that, in a second volume, on which his fate as a poet would very
+much depend, he might rise yet higher in merit and in fame. Burns, who
+received this communication when laying his leg over the saddle to be
+gone, is said to have muttered, "Ay, but a man's first book is
+sometimes like his first babe, healthier and stronger than those which
+follow."
+
+On the 6th of May, 1787, Burns reached Berrywell: he recorded of the
+laird, that he was clear-headed, and of Miss Ainslie, that she was
+amiable and handsome--of Dudgeon, the author of "The Maid that tends
+the Goats," that he had penetration and modesty, and of the preacher,
+Bowmaker, that he was a man of strong lungs and vigorous remark. On
+crossing the Tweed at Coldstream he took off his hat, and kneeling
+down, repeated aloud the two last verses of the "Cotter's Saturday
+Night:" on returning, he drunk tea with Brydone, the traveller, a man,
+he said, kind and benevolent: he cursed one Cole as an English
+Hottentot, for having rooted out an ancient garden belonging to a
+Romish ruin; and he wrote of Macdowal, of Caverton-mill, that by his
+skill in rearing sheep, he sold his flocks, ewe and lamb, for a couple
+of guineas each: that he washed his sheep before shearing--and by his
+turnips improved sheep-husbandry; he added, that lands were generally
+let at sixteen shillings the Scottish acre; the farmers rich, and,
+compared to Ayrshire, their houses magnificent. On his way to Jedburgh
+he visited an old gentleman in whose house was an arm-chair, once the
+property of the author of "The Seasons;" he reverently examined the
+relic, and could scarcely be persuaded to sit in it: he was a warm
+admirer of Thomson.
+
+In Jedburgh, Burns found much to interest him: the ruins of a splendid
+cathedral, and of a strong castle--and, what was still more
+attractive, an amiable young lady, very handsome, with "beautiful
+hazel eyes, full of spirit, sparkling with delicious moisture," and
+looks which betokened a high order of female mind. He gave her his
+portrait, and entered this remembrance of her attractions among his
+memoranda:--"My heart is thawed into melting pleasure, after being so
+long frozen up in the Greenland bay of indifference, amid the noise
+and nonsense of Edinburgh. I am afraid my bosom has nearly as much
+tinder as ever. Jed, pure be thy streams, and hallowed thy sylvan
+banks: sweet Isabella Lindsay, may peace dwell in thy bosom
+uninterrupted, except by the tumultuous throbbings of rapturous love!"
+With the freedom of Jedburgh, handsomely bestowed by the magistrates,
+in his pocket, Burns made his way to Wauchope, the residence of Mrs.
+Scott, who had welcomed him into the world as a poet in verses lively
+and graceful: he found her, he said, "a lady of sense and taste, and
+of a decision peculiar to female authors." After dining with Sir
+Alexander Don, who, he said, was a clever man, but far from a match
+for his divine lady, a sister of his patron Glencairn, he spent an
+hour among the beautiful ruins of Dryburgh Abbey; glanced on the
+splendid remains of Melrose; passed, unconscious of the future, over
+that ground on which have arisen the romantic towers of Abbotsford;
+dined with certain of the Souters of Selkirk; and visited the old keep
+of Thomas the Rhymer, and a dozen of the hills and streams celebrated
+in song. Nor did he fail to pay his respects, after returning through
+Dunse, to Sir James Hall, of Dunglass, and his lady, and was much
+pleased with the scenery of their romantic place. He was now joined by
+a gentleman of the name of Kerr, and crossing the Tweed a second time,
+penetrated into England, as far as the ancient town of Newcastle,
+where he smiled at a facetious Northumbrian, who at dinner caused the
+beef to be eaten before the broth was served, in obedience to an
+ancient injunction, lest the hungry Scotch should come and snatch it.
+On his way back he saw, what proved to be prophetic of his own
+fortune--the roup of an unfortunate farmer's stock: he took out his
+journal, and wrote with a troubled brow, "Rigid economy, and decent
+industry, do you preserve me from being the principal _dramatis
+personae_, in such a scene of horror." He extended his tour to
+Carlisle, and from thence to the banks of the Nith, where he looked at
+the farm of Ellisland, with the intention of trying once more his
+fortune at the plough, should poetry and patronage fail him.
+
+On his way through the West, Burns spent a few days with his mother at
+Mossgiel: he had left her an unknown and an almost banished man: he
+returned in fame and in sunshine, admired by all who aspired to be
+thought tasteful or refined. He felt offended alike with the patrician
+stateliness of Edinburgh and the plebeian servility of the husbandmen
+of Ayrshire; and dreading the influence of the unlucky star which had
+hitherto ruled his lot, he bought a pocket Milton, he said, for the
+purpose of studying the intrepid independence and daring magnanimity,
+and noble defiance of hardships, exhibited by Satan! In this mood he
+reached Edinburgh--only to leave it again on three hurried excursions
+into the Highlands. The route which he took and the sentiments which
+the scenes awakened, are but faintly intimated in the memoranda which
+he made. His first journey seems to have been performed in ill-humour;
+at Stirling, his Jacobitism, provoked at seeing the ruined palace of
+the Stuarts, broke out in some unloyal lines which he had the
+indiscretion to write with a diamond on the window of a public inn. At
+Carron, where he was refused a sight of the magnificent foundry, he
+avenged himself in epigram. At Inverary he resented some real or
+imaginary neglect on the part of his Grace of Argyll, by a stinging
+lampoon; nor can he be said to have fairly regained his serenity of
+temper, till he danced his wrath away with some Highland ladies at
+Dumbarton.
+
+His second excursion was made in the company of Dr. Adair, of
+Harrowgate: the reluctant doors of Carron foundry were opened to him,
+and he expressed his wonder at the blazing furnaces and broiling
+labours of the place; he removed the disloyal lines from the window of
+the inn at Stirling, and he paid a two days' visit to Ramsay of
+Ochtertyre, a distinguished scholar, and discussed with him future
+topics for the muse. "I have been in the company of many men of
+genius," said Ramsay afterwards to Currie, "some of them poets, but
+never witnessed such flashes of intellectual brightness as from
+him--the impulse of the moment, sparks of celestial fire." From the
+Forth he went to the Devon, in the county of Clackmannan, where, for
+the first time, he saw the beautiful Charlotte Hamilton, the sister of
+his friend Gavin Hamilton, of Mauchline. "She is not only beautiful,"
+he thus writes to her brother, "but lovely: her form is elegant, her
+features not regular, but they have the smile of sweetness, and the
+settled complacency of good nature in the highest degree. Her eyes are
+fascinating; at once expressive of good sense, tenderness and a noble
+mind. After the exercise of our riding to the Falls, Charlotte was
+exactly Dr. Donne's mistress:--
+
+                    "Her pure and eloquent blood
+    Spoke in her cheeks, and so distinctly wrought,
+    That one would almost say her body thought."
+
+Accompanied by this charming dame, he visited an old lady, Mrs. Bruce,
+of Clackmannan, who, in the belief that she had the blood of the royal
+Bruce in her veins, received the poet with something of princely
+state, and, half in jest, conferred the honour of knighthood upon him,
+with her ancestor's sword, saying, in true Jacobitical mood, that she
+had a better right to do that than some folk had! In the same pleasing
+company he visited the famous cataract on the Devon, called the
+Cauldron Lian, and the Rumbling bridge, a single arch thrown, it is
+said by the devil, over the Devon, at the height of a hundred feet in
+the air. It was the complaint of his companions that Burns exhibited
+no raptures, and poured out no unpremeditated verses at such
+magnificent scenes. But he did not like to be tutored or prompted:
+"Look, look!" exclaimed some one, as Carron foundry belched forth
+flames--"look, Burns, look! good heavens, what a grand sight!--look!"
+"I would not look--look, sir, at your bidding," said the bard, turning
+away, "were it into the mouth of hell!" When he visited, at a future
+time, the romantic Linn of Creehope, in Nithsdale, he looked silently
+at its wonders, and showed none of the hoped-for rapture. "You do not
+admire it, I fear," said a gentleman who accompanied him; "I could not
+admire it more, sir," replied Burns, "if He who made it were to desire
+me to do it." There are other reasons for the silence of Burns amid
+the scenes of the Devon: he was charmed into love by the sense and the
+beauty of Charlotte Hamilton, and rendered her homage in that sweet
+song, "The Banks of the Devon," and in a dozen letters written with
+more than his usual care, elegance, and tenderness. But the lady was
+neither to be won by verse nor by prose: she afterwards gave her hand
+to Adair, the poet's companion, and, what was less meritorious, threw
+his letters into the fire.
+
+The third and last tour into the North was in company of Nicol of the
+High-School of Edinburgh: on the fields of Bannockburn and
+Falkirk--places of triumph and of woe to Scotland, he gave way to
+patriotic impulses, and in these words he recorded them:--"Stirling,
+August 20, 1787: this morning I knelt at the tomb of Sir John the
+Graham, the gallant friend of the immortal Wallace; and two hours ago I
+said a fervent prayer for old Caledonia, over the hole in a whinstone
+where Robert the Bruce fixed his royal standard on the banks of
+Bannockburn." He then proceeded northward by Ochtertyre, the water of
+Earn, the vale of Glen Almond, and the traditionary grave of Ossian. He
+looked in at princely Taymouth; mused an hour or two among the Birks of
+Aberfeldy; gazed from Birnam top; paused amid the wild grandeur of the
+pass of Killiecrankie, at the stone which marks the spot where a second
+patriot Graham fell, and spent a day at Blair, where he experienced the
+graceful kindness of the Duke of Athol, and in a strain truly elegant,
+petitioned him, in the name of Bruar Water, to hide the utter nakedness
+of its otherwise picturesque banks, with plantations of birch and oak.
+Quitting Blair he followed the course of the Spey, and passing, as he
+told his brother, through a wild country, among cliffs gray with eternal
+snows, and glens gloomy and savage, reached Findhorn in mist and
+darkness; visited Castle Cawdor, where Macbeth murdered Duncan; hastened
+through Inverness to Urquhart Castle, and the Falls of Fyers, and turned
+southward to Kilravock, over the fatal moor of Culloden. He admired the
+ladies of that classic region for their snooded ringlets, simple
+elegance of dress, and expressive eyes: in Mrs. Rose, of Kilravock
+Castle, he found that matronly grace and dignity which he owned he
+loved; and in the Duke and Duchess of Gordon a renewal of that more than
+kindness with which they had welcomed him in Edinburgh. But while he
+admired the palace of Fochabers, and was charmed by the condescensions
+of the noble proprietors, he forgot that he had left a companion at the
+inn, too proud and captious to be pleased at favours showered on others:
+he hastened back to the inn with an invitation and an apology: he found
+the fiery pedant in a foaming rage, striding up and down the street,
+cursing in Scotch and Latin the loitering postilions for not yoking the
+horses, and hurrying him away. All apology and explanation was in vain,
+and Burns, with a vexation which he sought not to conceal, took his seat
+silently beside the irascible pedagogue, and returned to the South by
+Broughty Castle, the banks of Endermay and Queensferry. He parted with
+the Highlands in a kindly mood, and loved to recal the scenes and the
+people, both in conversation and in song.
+
+On his return to Edinburgh he had to bide the time of his bookseller
+and the public: the impression of his poems, extending to two thousand
+eight hundred copies, was sold widely: much of the money had to come
+from a distance, and Burns lingered about the northern metropolis,
+expecting a settlement with Creech, and with the hope that those who
+dispensed his country's patronage might remember one who then, as now,
+was reckoned an ornament to the land. But Creech, a parsimonious man,
+was slow in his payments; the patronage of the country was swallowed
+up in the sink of politics, and though noblemen smiled, and ladies of
+rank nodded their jewelled heads in approbation of every new song he
+sung and every witty sally he uttered, they reckoned any further
+notice or care superfluous: the poet, an observant man, saw all this;
+but hope was the cordial of his heart, he said, and he hoped and
+lingered on. Too active a genius to remain idle, he addressed himself
+to the twofold business of love and verse. Repulsed by the stately
+Beauty of the Devon, he sought consolation in the society of one, as
+fair, and infinitely more witty; and as an accident had for a time
+deprived him of the use of one of his legs, he gave wings to hours of
+pain, by writing a series of letters to this Edinburgh enchantress, in
+which he signed himself Sylvander, and addressed her under the name of
+Clarinda. In these compositions, which no one can regard as serious,
+and which James Grahame the poet called "a romance of real Platonic
+affection," amid much affectation both of language and sentiment, and
+a desire to say fine and startling things, we can see the proud heart
+of the poet throbbing in the dread of being neglected or forgotten by
+his country. The love which he offers up at the altar of wit and
+beauty, seems assumed and put on, for its rapture is artificial, and
+its brilliancy that of an icicle: no woman was ever wooed and won in
+that Malvolio way; and there is no doubt that Mrs. M'Lehose felt as
+much offence as pleasure at this boisterous display of regard. In
+aftertimes he loved to remember her:--when wine circulated, Mrs. Mac
+was his favourite toast.
+
+During this season he began his lyric contributions to the Musical
+Museum of Johnson, a work which, amid many imperfections of taste and
+arrangement, contains more of the true old music and genuine old songs
+of Scotland, than any other collection with which I am acquainted.
+Burns gathered oral airs, and fitted them with words of mirth or of
+woe, of tenderness or of humour, with unexampled readiness and
+felicity; he eked out old fragments and sobered down licentious
+strains so much in the olden spirit and feeling, that the new cannot
+be distinguished from the ancient; nay, he inserted lines and half
+lines, with such skill and nicety, that antiquarians are perplexed to
+settle which is genuine or which is simulated. Yet with all this he
+abated not of the natural mirth or the racy humour of the lyric muse
+of Scotland: he did not like her the less because she walked like some
+of the maidens of her strains, high-kilted at times, and spoke with
+the freedom of innocence. In these communications we observe how
+little his border-jaunt among the fountains of ancient song
+contributed either of sentiment or allusion, to his lyrics; and how
+deeply his strains, whether of pity or of merriment, were coloured by
+what he had seen, and heard, and felt in the Highlands. In truth, all
+that lay beyond the Forth was an undiscovered land to him; while the
+lowland districts were not only familiar to his mind and eye, but all
+their more romantic vales and hills and streams were already musical
+in songs of such excellence as induced him to dread failure rather
+than hope triumph. Moreover, the Highlands teemed with jacobitical
+feelings, and scenes hallowed by the blood or the sufferings of men
+heroic, and perhaps misguided; and the poet, willingly yielding to an
+impulse which was truly romantic, and believed by thousands to be
+loyal, penned his songs on Drumossie, and Killiecrankie, as the
+spirit of sorrow or of bitterness prevailed. Though accompanied,
+during his northern excursions, by friends whose socialities and
+conversation forbade deep thought, or even serious remark, it will be
+seen by those who read his lyrics with care, that his wreath is
+indebted for some of its fairest flowers to the Highlands.
+
+The second winter of the poet's abode in Edinburgh had now arrived: it
+opened, as might have been expected, with less rapturous welcomes and
+with more of frosty civility than the first. It must be confessed,
+that indulgence in prolonged socialities, and in company which, though
+clever, could not be called select, contributed to this; nor must it
+be forgotten that his love for the sweeter part of creation was now
+and then carried beyond the limits of poetic respect, and the
+delicacies of courtesy; tending to estrange the austere and to lessen
+the admiration at first common to all. Other causes may be assigned
+for this wane of popularity: he took no care to conceal his contempt
+for all who depended on mere scholarship for eminence, and he had a
+perilous knack in sketching with a sarcastic hand the characters of
+the learned and the grave. Some indeed of the high literati of the
+north--Home, the author of Douglas, was one of them--spoke of the poet
+as a chance or an accident: and though they admitted that he was a
+poet, yet he was not one of settled grandeur of soul, brightened by
+study. Burns was probably aware of this; he takes occasion in some of
+his letters to suggest, that the hour may be at hand when he shall be
+accounted by scholars as a meteor, rather than a fixed light, and to
+suspect that the praise bestowed on his genius was partly owing to the
+humility of his condition. From his lingering so long about Edinburgh,
+the nobility began to dread a second volume by subscription, the
+learned to regard him as a fierce Theban, who resolved to carry all
+the outworks to the temple of Fame without the labour of making
+regular approaches; while a third party, and not the least numerous,
+looked on him with distrust, as one who hovered between Jacobite and
+Jacobin; who disliked the loyal-minded, and loved to lampoon the
+reigning family. Besides, the marvel of the inspired ploughman had
+begun to subside; the bright gloss of novelty was worn off, and his
+fault lay in his unwillingness to see that he had made all the sport
+which the Philistines expected, and was required to make room for some
+"salvage" of the season, to paw, and roar, and shake the mane. The
+doors of the titled, which at first opened spontaneous, like those in
+Milton's heaven, were now unclosed for him with a tardy courtesy: he
+was received with measured stateliness, and seldom requested to repeat
+his visit. Of this changed aspect of things he complained to a friend:
+but his real sorrows were mixed with those of the fancy:--he told Mrs.
+Dunlop with what pangs of heart he was compelled to take shelter in a
+corner, lest the rattling equipage of some gaping blockhead should
+mangle him in the mire. In this land of titles and wealth such
+querulous sensibilities must have been frequently offended.
+
+Burns, who had talked lightly hitherto of resuming the plough, began
+now to think seriously about it, for he saw it must come to that at
+last. Miller, of Dalswinton, a gentleman of scientific acquirements,
+and who has the merit of applying the impulse of steam to navigation,
+had offered the poet the choice of his farms, on a fair estate which
+he had purchased on the Nith: aided by a westland farmer, he selected
+Ellisland, a beautiful spot, fit alike for the steps of ploughman or
+poet. On intimating this to the magnates of Edinburgh, no one lamented
+that a genius so bright and original should be driven to win his bread
+with the sweat of his brow: no one, with an indignant eye, ventured to
+tell those to whom the patronage of this magnificent empire was
+confided, that they were misusing the sacred trust, and that posterity
+would curse them for their coldness or neglect: neither did any of the
+rich nobles, whose tables he had adorned by his wit, offer to enable
+him to toil free of rent, in a land of which he was to be a permanent
+ornament;--all were silent--all were cold--the Earl of Glencairn
+alone, aided by Alexander Wood, a gentleman who merits praise oftener
+than he is named, did the little that was done or attempted to be done
+for him: nor was that little done on the peer's part without
+solicitation:--"I wish to go into the excise;" thus he wrote to
+Glencairn; "and I am told your lordship's interest will easily procure
+me the grant from the commissioners: and your lordship's patronage and
+goodness, which have already rescued me from obscurity, wretchedness,
+and exile, emboldens me to ask that interest. You have likewise put it
+in my power to save the little tie of home that sheltered an aged
+mother, two brothers, and three sisters from destruction. I am ill
+qualified to dog the heels of greatness with the impertinence of
+solicitation, and tremble nearly as much at the thought of the cold
+promise as the cold denial." The farm and the excise exhibit the
+poet's humble scheme of life: the money of the one, he thought, would
+support the toil of the other, and in the fortunate management of
+both, he looked for the rough abundance, if not the elegancies
+suitable to a poet's condition.
+
+While Scotland was disgraced by sordidly allowing her brightest genius
+to descend to the plough and the excise, the poet hastened his
+departure from a city which had witnessed both his triumph and his
+shame: he bade farewell in a few well-chosen words to such of the
+classic literati--the Blairs, the Stewarts, the Mackenzies, and the
+Tytlers--as had welcomed the rustic bard and continued to countenance
+him; while in softer accents he bade adieu to the Clarindas and
+Chlorises of whose charms he had sung, and, having wrung a settlement
+from Creech, he turned his steps towards Mossgiel and Mauchline. He
+had several reasons, and all serious ones, for taking Ayrshire in his
+way to the Nith: he desired to see his mother, his brothers and
+sisters, who had partaken of his success, and were now raised from
+pining penury to comparative affluence: he desired to see those who
+had aided him in his early struggles into the upper air--perhaps
+those, too, who had looked coldly on, and smiled at his outward
+aspirations after fame or distinction; but more than all, he desired
+to see one whom he once and still dearly loved, who had been a
+sufferer for his sake, and whom he proposed to make mistress of his
+fireside and the sharer of his fortunes. Even while whispering of love
+to Charlotte Hamilton, on the banks of the Devon, or sighing out the
+affected sentimentalities of platonic or pastoral love in the ear of
+Clarinda, his thoughts wandered to her whom he had left bleaching her
+webs among the daisies on Mauchline braes--she had still his heart,
+and in spite of her own and her father's disclamation, she was his
+wife. It was one of the delusions of this great poet, as well as of
+those good people, the Armours, that the marriage had been dissolved
+by the destruction of the marriage-lines, and that Robert Burns and
+Jean Armour were as single as though they had neither vowed nor
+written themselves man and wife. Be that as it may, the time was come
+when all scruples and obstacles were to be removed which stood in the
+way of their union: their hands were united by Gavin Hamilton,
+according to law, in April, 1788: and even the Reverend Mr. Auld, so
+mercilessly lampooned, smiled forgivingly as the poet satisfied a
+church wisely scrupulous regarding the sacred ceremony of marriage.
+
+Though Jean Armour was but a country lass of humble degree, she had
+sense and intelligence, and personal charms sufficient not only to win
+and fix the attentions of the poet, but to sanction the praise which
+he showered on her in song. In a letter to Mrs. Dunlop, he thus
+describes her: "The most placid good nature and sweetness of
+disposition, a warm heart, gratefully devoted with all its powers to
+love me; vigorous health and sprightly cheerfulness, set off to the
+best advantage by a more than commonly handsome figure: these I think
+in a woman may make a good wife, though she should never have read a
+page but the Scriptures, nor have danced in a brighter assembly than
+a penny-pay wedding." To the accomplished Margaret Chalmers, of
+Edinburgh, he adds, to complete the picture, "I have got the
+handsomest figure, the sweetest temper, the soundest constitution, and
+kindest heart in the country: a certain late publication of Scots'
+poems she has perused very devoutly, and all the ballads in the land,
+as she has the finest wood-note wild you ever heard." With his young
+wife, a punch bowl of Scottish marble, and an eight-day clock, both
+presents from Mr. Armour, now reconciled to his eminent son-in-law,
+with a new plough, and a beautiful heifer, given by Mrs. Dunlop, with
+about four hundred pounds in his pocket, a resolution to toil, and a
+hope of success, Burns made his appearance on the banks of the Nith,
+and set up his staff at Ellisland. This farm, now a classic spot, is
+about six miles up the river from Dumfries; it extends to upwards of a
+hundred acres: the soil is kindly; the holmland portion of it loamy
+and rich, and it has at command fine walks on the river side, and
+views of the Friar's Carse, Cowehill, and Dalswinton. For a while the
+poet had to hide his head in a smoky hovel; till a house to his fancy,
+and offices for his cattle and his crops were built, his accommodation
+was sufficiently humble; and his mind taking its hue from his
+situation, infused a bitterness into the letters in which he first
+made known to his western friends that he had fixed his abode in
+Nithsdale. "I am here," said he, "at the very elbow of existence: the
+only things to be found in perfection in this country are stupidity
+and canting; prose they only know in graces and prayers, and the value
+of these they estimate as they do their plaiden-webs, by the ell: as
+for the muses, they have as much an idea of a rhinoceros as of a
+poet." "This is an undiscovered clime," he at another period exclaims,
+"it is unknown to poetry, and prose never looked on it save in drink.
+I sit by the fire, and listen to the hum of the spinning-wheel: I
+hear, but cannot see it, for it is hidden in the smoke which eddies
+round and round me before it seeks to escape by window and door. I
+have no converse but with the ignorance which encloses me: No kenned
+face but that of my old mare, Jenny Geddes--my life is dwindled down
+to mere existence."
+
+When the poet's new house was built and plenished, and the atmosphere
+of his mind began to clear, he found the land to be fruitful, and its
+people intelligent and wise. In Riddel, of Friar's Carse, he found a
+scholar and antiquarian; in Miller, of Dalswinton, a man conversant
+with science as well as with the world; in M'Murdo, of Drumlanrig, a
+generous and accomplished gentleman; and in John Syme, of Ryedale, a
+man much after his own heart, and a lover of the wit and socialities
+of polished life. Of these gentlemen Riddel, who was his neighbour,
+was the favourite: a door was made in the march-fence which separated
+Ellisland from Friar's Carse, that the poet might indulge in the
+retirement of the Carse hermitage, a little lodge in the wood, as
+romantic as it was beautiful, while a pathway was cut through the
+dwarf oaks and birches which fringed the river bank, to enable the
+poet to saunter and muse without lot or interruption. This attention
+was rewarded by an inscription for the hermitage, written with
+elegance as well as feeling, and which was the first fruits of his
+fancy in this unpoetic land. In a happier strain he remembered Matthew
+Henderson: this is one of the sweetest as well as happiest of his
+poetic compositions. He heard of his friend's death, and called on
+nature animate and inanimate, to lament the loss of one who held the
+patent of his honours from God alone, and who loved all that was pure
+and lovely and good. "The Whistle" is another of his Ellisland
+compositions: the contest which he has recorded with such spirit and
+humour took place almost at his door: the heroes were Fergusson, of
+Craigdarroch, Sir Robert Laurie, of Maxwelltown, and Riddel, of the
+Friar's Carse: the poet was present, and drank bottle and bottle about
+with the best, and when all was done he seemed much disposed, as an
+old servant at Friar's Carse remembered, to take up the victor.
+
+Burns had become fully reconciled to Nithsdale, and was on the most
+intimate terms with the muse when he produced Tam O' Shanter, the
+crowning glory of all his poems. For this marvellous tale we are
+indebted to something like accident: Francis Grose, the antiquary,
+happened to visit Friar's Carse, and as he loved wine and wit, the
+total want of imagination was no hinderance to his friendly
+intercourse with the poet: "Alloway's auld haunted kirk" was
+mentioned, and Grose said he would include it in his illustrations of
+the antiquities of Scotland, if the bard of the Doon would write a
+poem to accompany it. Burns consented, and before he left the table,
+the various traditions which belonged to the ruin were passing through
+his mind. One of these was of a farmer, who, on a night wild with
+wind and rain, on passing the old kirk was startled by a light
+glimmering inside the walls; on drawing near he saw a caldron hung
+over a fire, in which the heads and limbs of children were simmering:
+there was neither witch nor fiend to guard it, so he unhooked the
+caldron, turned out the contents, and carried it home as a trophy. A
+second tradition was of a man of Kyle, who, having been on a market
+night detained late in Ayr, on crossing the old bridge of Doon, on his
+way home, saw a light streaming through the gothic window of Alloway
+kirk, and on riding near, beheld a batch of the district witches
+dancing merrily round their master, the devil, who kept them "louping
+and flinging" to the sound of a bagpipe. He knew several of the old
+crones, and smiled at their gambols, for they were dancing in their
+smocks: but one of them, and she happened to be young and rosy, had on
+a smock shorter than those of her companions by two spans at least,
+which so moved the farmer that he exclaimed, "Weel luppan, Maggie wi'
+the short sark!" Satan stopped his music, the light was extinguished,
+and out rushed the hags after the farmer, who made at the gallop for
+the bridge of Doon, knowing that they could not cross a stream: he
+escaped; but Maggie, who was foremost, seized his horse's tail at the
+middle of the bridge, and pulled it off in her efforts to stay him.
+
+This poem was the work of a single day: Burns walked out to his
+favourite musing path, which runs towards the old tower of the Isle,
+along Nithside, and was observed to walk hastily and mutter as he
+went. His wife knew by these signs that he was engaged in composition,
+and watched him from the window; at last wearying, and moreover
+wondering at the unusual length of his meditations, she took her
+children with her and went to meet him; but as he seemed not to see
+her, she stept aside among the broom to allow him to pass, which he
+did with a flushed brow and dropping eyes, reciting these lines
+aloud:--
+
+    "Now Tam! O, Tum! had thae been queans,
+    A' plump and strapping in their teens,
+    Their sacks, instead o' creeshie flannen,
+    Been snaw-white seventeen hunder linen!
+    Thir breeks o' mine, my only pair,
+    That ance were plush, o' gude blue hair,
+    I wad hae gien them off my hurdies,
+    For ae blink o' the bonnie burdies!"
+
+He embellished this wild tradition from fact as well as from fancy:
+along the road which Tam came on that eventful night his memory
+supplied circumstances which prepared him for the strange sight at the
+kirk of Alloway. A poor chapman had perished, some winters before, in
+the snow; a murdered child had been found by some early hunters; a
+tippling farmer had fallen from his horse at the expense of his neck,
+beside a "meikle stane"; and a melancholy old woman had hanged herself
+at the bush aboon the well, as the poem relates: all these matters the
+poet pressed into the service of the muse, and used them with a skill
+which adorns rather than oppresses the legend. A pert lawyer from
+Dumfries objected to the language as obscure: "Obscure, sir!" said
+Burns; "you know not the language of that great master of your own
+art--the devil. If you had a witch for your client you would not be
+able to manage her defence!"
+
+He wrote few poems after his marriage, but he composed many songs: the
+sweet voice of Mrs. Burns and the craving of Johnson's Museum will in
+some measure account for the number, but not for their variety, which
+is truly wonderful. In the history of that mournful strain, "Mary in
+Heaven," we read the story of many of his lyrics, for they generally
+sprang from his personal feelings: no poet has put more of himself
+into his poetry than Burns, "Robert, though ill of a cold," said his
+wife, "had been busy all day--a day of September, 1789, with the
+shearers in the field, and as he had got most of the corn into the
+stack-yard, was in good spirits; but when twilight came he grew sad
+about something, and could not rest: he wandered first up the
+waterside, and then went into the stack-yard: I followed, and begged
+him to come into the house, as he was ill, and the air was sharp and
+cold. He said, 'Ay, ay,' but did not come: he threw himself down on
+some loose sheaves, and lay looking at the sky, and particularly at a
+large, bright star, which shone like another moon. At last, but that
+was long after I had left him, he came home--the song was already
+composed." To the memory of Mary Campbell he dedicated that touching
+ode; and he thus intimates the continuance of his early affection for
+"The fair haired lass of the west," in a letter of that time to Mrs.
+Dunlop. "If there is another life, it must be only for the just, the
+benevolent, the amiable, and the humane. What a flattering idea, then,
+is a world to come! There shall I, with speechless agony of rapture,
+again recognise my lost, my ever dear Mary, whose bosom was fraught
+with truth, honour, constancy, and love." These melancholy words gave
+way in their turn to others of a nature lively and humorous: "Tam
+Glen," in which the thoughts flow as freely as the waters of the Nith,
+on whose banks he wrote it; "Findlay," with its quiet vein of sly
+simplicity; "Willie brewed a peck o' maut," the first of social, and
+"She's fair and fause," the first of sarcastic songs, with "The deil's
+awa wi' the Exciseman," are all productions of this period--a period
+which had besides its own fears and its own forebodings.
+
+For a while Burns seemed to prosper in his farm: he held the plough
+with his own hand, he guided the harrows, he distributed the seed-corn
+equally among the furrows, and he reaped the crop in its season, and
+saw it safely covered in from the storms of winter with "thack and
+rape;" his wife, too, superintended the dairy with a skill which she
+had brought from Kyle, and as the harvest, for a season or two, was
+abundant, and the dairy yielded butter and cheese for the market, it
+seemed that "the luckless star" which ruled his lot had relented, and
+now shone unboding and benignly. But much more is required than toil
+of hand to make a successful farmer, nor will the attention bestowed
+only by fits and starts, compensate for carelessness or oversight:
+frugality, not in one thing but in all, is demanded, in small matters
+as well as in great, while a careful mind and a vigilant eye must
+superintend the labours of servants, and the whole system of in-door
+and out-door economy. Now, during the three years which Burns stayed
+in Ellisland, he neither wrought with that constant diligence which
+farming demands, nor did he bestow upon it the unremitting attention
+of eye and mind which such a farm required: besides his skill in
+husbandry was but moderate--the rent, though of his own fixing, was
+too high for him and for the times; the ground, though good, was not
+so excellent as he might have had on the same estate--he employed more
+servants than the number of acres demanded, and spread for them a
+richer board than common: when we have said this we need not add the
+expensive tastes induced by poetry, to keep readers from starting,
+when they are told that Burns, at the close of the third year of
+occupation, resigned his lease to the landlord, and bade farewell for
+ever to the plough. He was not, however, quite desolate; he had for a
+year or more been appointed on the excise, and had superintended a
+district extending to ten large parishes, with applause; indeed, it
+has been assigned as the chief reason for failure in his farm, that
+when the plough or the sickle summoned him to the field, he was to be
+found, either pursuing the defaulters of the revenue, among the
+valleys of Dumfrieshire, or measuring out pastoral verse to the
+beauties of the land. He retired to a house in the Bank-vennel of
+Dumfries, and commenced a town-life: he commenced it with an empty
+pocket, for Ellisland had swallowed up all the profits of his poems:
+he had now neither a barn to produce meal nor barley, a barn-yard to
+yield a fat hen, a field to which he could go at Martinmas for a mart,
+nor a dairy to supply milk and cheese and butter to the table--he had,
+in short, all to buy and little to buy with. He regarded it as a
+compensation that he had no farm-rent to provide, no bankruptcies to
+dread, no horse to keep, for his excise duties were now confined to
+Dumfries, and that the burthen of a barren farm was removed from his
+mind, and his muse at liberty to renew her unsolicited strains.
+
+But from the day of his departure from "the barren" Ellisland, the
+downward course of Burns may be dated. The cold neglect of his country
+had driven him back indignantly to the plough, and he hoped to gain
+from the furrowed field that independence which it was the duty of
+Scotland to have provided: but he did not resume the plough with all
+the advantages he possessed when he first forsook it: he had revelled
+in the luxuries of polished life--his tastes had been rendered
+expensive as well as pure: he had witnessed, and he hoped for the
+pleasures of literary retirement, while the hands which had led
+jewelled dames over scented carpets to supper tables leaded with
+silver took hold of the hilts of the plough with more of reluctance
+than good-will. Edinburgh, with its lords and its ladies, its delights
+and its hopes, spoiled him for farming. Nor were his new labours more
+acceptable to his haughty spirit than those of the plough: the excise
+for a century had been a word of opprobrium or of hatred in the
+north: the duties which it imposed were regarded, not by peasants
+alone, as a serious encroachment upon the ancient rights of the
+nation, and to mislead a gauger, or resist him, even to blood, was
+considered by few as a fault. That the brightest genius of the
+nation--one whose tastes and sensibilities were so peculiarly its
+own--should be, as a reward, set to look after run-rum and smuggled
+tobacco, and to gauge ale-wife's barrels, was a regret and a marvel to
+many, and a source of bitter merriment to Burns himself.
+
+The duties of his situation were however performed punctually, if not
+with pleasure: he was a vigilant officer; he was also a merciful and
+considerate one: though loving a joke, and not at all averse to a
+dram, he walked among suspicious brewers, captious ale-wives, and
+frowning shop-keepers as uprightly as courteously: he smoothed the
+ruggedest natures into acquiescence by his gayety and humour, and yet
+never gave cause for a malicious remark, by allowing his vigilance to
+slumber. He was brave, too, and in the capture of an armed smuggler,
+in which he led the attack, showed that he neither feared water nor
+fire: he loved, also, to counsel the more forward of the smugglers to
+abandon their dangerous calling; his sympathy for the helpless poor
+induced him to give them now and then notice of his approach; he has
+been known to interpret the severe laws of the excise into tenderness
+and mercy in behalf of the widow and the fatherless. In all this he
+did but his duty to his country and his kind: and his conduct was so
+regarded by a very competent and candid judge. "Let me look at the
+books of Burns," said Maxwell, of Terraughty, at the meeting of the
+district magistrates, "for they show that an upright officer may be a
+merciful one." With a salary of some seventy pounds a year, the chance
+of a few guineas annually from the future editions of his poems, and
+the hope of rising at some distant day to the more lucrative situation
+of supervisor, Burns continued to live in Dumfries; first in the
+Bank-vennel, and next in a small house in a humble street, since
+called by his name.
+
+In his earlier years the poet seems to have scattered songs as thick
+as a summer eve scatters its dews; nor did he scatter them less
+carelessly: he appears, indeed, to have thought much less of them than
+of his poems: the sweet song of Mary Morison, and others not at all
+inferior, lay unregarded among his papers till accident called them
+out to shine and be admired. Many of these brief but happy
+compositions, sometimes with his name, and oftener without, he threw
+in dozens at a time into Johnson, where they were noticed only by the
+captious Ritson: but now a work of higher pretence claimed a share in
+his skill: in September, 1792, he was requested by George Thomson to
+render, for his national collection, the poetry worthy of the muses of
+the north, and to take compassion on many choice airs, which had
+waited for a poet like the author of the Cotter's Saturday Night, to
+wed them to immortal verse. To engage in such an undertaking, Burns
+required small persuasion, and while Thomson asked for strains
+delicate and polished, the poet characteristically stipulated that his
+contributions were to be without remuneration, and the language
+seasoned with a sprinkling of the Scottish dialect. As his heart was
+much in the matter, he began to pour out verse with a readiness and
+talent unknown in the history of song: his engagement with Thomson,
+and his esteem for Johnson, gave birth to a series of songs as
+brilliant as varied, and as naturally easy as they were gracefully
+original. In looking over those very dissimilar collections it is not
+difficult to discover that the songs which he wrote for the more
+stately work, while they are more polished and elegant than those
+which he contributed to the less pretending one, are at the same time
+less happy in their humour and less simple in their pathos. "What
+pleases _me_ as simple and naive," says Burns to Thomson, "disgusts
+_you_ as ludicrous and low. For this reason 'Fye, gie me my coggie,
+sirs,' 'Fye, let us a' to the bridal,' with several others of that
+cast, are to me highly pleasing, while 'Saw ye my Father' delights me
+with its descriptive simple pathos:" we read in these words the
+reasons of the difference between the lyrics of the two collections.
+
+The land where the poet lived furnished ready materials for song:
+hills with fine woods, vales with clear waters, and dames as lovely as
+any recorded in verse, were to be had in his walks and his visits;
+while, for the purposes of mirth or of humour, characters, in whose
+faces originality was legibly written, were as numerous in Nithsdale
+as he had found them in the west. He had been reproached, while in
+Kyle, with seeing charms in very ordinary looks, and hanging the
+garlands of the muse on unlovely altars; he was liable to no such
+censure in Nithsdale; he poured out the incense of poetry only on the
+fair and captivating: his Jeans, his Lucys, his Phillises, and his
+Jessies were ladies of such mental or personal charms as the
+Reynolds's and the Lawrences of the time would have rejoiced to lay
+out their choicest colours on. But he did not limit himself to the
+charms of those whom he could step out to the walks and admire: his
+lyrics give evidence of the wandering of his thoughts to the distant
+or the dead--he loves to remember Charlotte Hamilton and Mary
+Campbell, and think of the sighs and vows on the Devon and the Doon,
+while his harpstrings were still quivering to the names of the Millers
+and the M'Murdos--to the charms of the lasses with golden or with
+flaxen locks, in the valley where he dwelt. Of Jean M'Murdo and her
+sister Phillis he loved to sing; and their beauty merited his strains:
+to one who died in her bloom, Lucy Johnston, he addressed a song of
+great sweetness; to Jessie Lewars, two or three songs of gratitude and
+praise: nor did he forget other beauties, for the accomplished Mrs.
+Riddel is remembered, and the absence of fair Clarinda is lamented in
+strains both impassioned and pathetic.
+
+But the main inspirer of the latter songs of Burns was a young woman
+of humble birth: of a form equal to the most exquisite proportions of
+sculpture, with bloom on her cheeks, and merriment in her large bright
+eyes, enough to drive an amatory poet crazy. Her name was Jean
+Lorimer; she was not more than seventeen when the poet made her
+acquaintance, and though she had got a sort of brevet-right from an
+officer of the army, to use his southron name of Whelpdale, she loved
+best to be addressed by her maiden designation, while the poet chose
+to veil her in the numerous lyrics, to which she gave life, under the
+names of "Chloris," "The lass of Craigie-burnwood," and "The lassie
+wi' the lintwhite locks." Though of a temper not much inclined to
+conceal anything, Burns complied so tastefully with the growing demand
+of the age for the exterior decencies of life, that when the scrupling
+dames of Caledonia sung a new song in her praise, they were as
+unconscious whence its beauties came, as is the lover of art, that the
+shape and gracefulness of the marble nymph which he admires, are
+derived from a creature who sells the use of her charms indifferently
+to sculpture or to love. Fine poetry, like other arts called fine,
+springs from "strange places," as the flower in the fable said, when
+it bloomed on the dunghill; nor is Burns more to be blamed than was
+Raphael, who painted Madonnas, and Magdalens with dishevelled hair and
+lifted eyes, from a loose lady, whom the pope, "Holy at Rome--here
+Antichrist," charitably prescribed to the artist, while he laboured in
+the cause of the church. Of the poetic use which he made of Jean
+Lorimer's charms, Burns gives this account to Thomson. "The lady of
+whom the song of Craigie-burnwood was made is one of the finest women
+in Scotland, and in fact is to me in a manner what Sterne's Eliza was
+to him--a mistress, or friend, or what you will, in the guileless
+simplicity of platonic love. I assure you that to my lovely friend you
+are indebted for many of my best songs. Do you think that the sober
+gin-horse routine of my existence could inspire a man with life and
+love and joy--could fire him with enthusiasm, or melt him with pathos,
+equal to the genius of your book? No! no! Whenever I want to be more
+than ordinary in song--to be in some degree equal to your diviner
+airs--do you imagine I fast and pray for the celestial emanation?
+Quite the contrary. I have a glorious recipe; the very one that for
+his own use was invented by the divinity of healing and poesy, when
+erst he piped to the flocks of Admetus. I put myself in a regimen of
+admiring a fine woman; and in proportion to the adorability of her
+charms, in proportion are you delighted with my verses. The lightning
+of her eye is the godhead of Parnassus, and the witchery of her smile,
+the divinity of Helicon."
+
+Most of the songs which he composed under the influences to which I
+have alluded are of the first order: "Bonnie Lesley," "Highland Mary,"
+"Auld Rob Morris," "Duncan Gray," "Wandering Willie," "Meg o' the
+Mill," "The poor and honest sodger," "Bonnie Jean," "Phillis the
+fair," "John Anderson my Jo," "Had I a cave on some wild distant
+shore," "Whistle and I'll come to you, my lad," "Bruce's Address to
+his men at Bannockburn," "Auld Lang Syne," "Thine am I, my faithful
+fair," "Wilt thou be my dearie," "O Chloris, mark how green the
+groves," "Contented wi' little, and cantie wi' mair," "Their groves of
+sweet myrtle," "Last May a braw wooer came down the long glen," "O
+Mally's meek, Mally's sweet," "Hey for a lass wi' a tocher," "Here's
+a health to ane I loe dear," and the "Fairest maid on Devon banks."
+Many of the latter lyrics of Burns were more or less altered, to put
+them into better harmony with the airs, and I am not the only one who
+has wondered that a bard so impetuous and intractable in most matters,
+should have become so soft and pliable, as to make changes which too
+often sacrificed the poetry for the sake of a fuller and more swelling
+sound. It is true that the emphatic notes of the music must find their
+echo in the emphatic words of the verse, and that words soft and
+liquid are fitter for ladies' lips, than words hissing and rough; but
+it is also true that in changing a harsher word for one more
+harmonious the sense often suffers, and that happiness of expression,
+and that dance of words which lyric verse requires, lose much of their
+life and vigour. The poet's favourite walk in composing his songs was
+on a beautiful green sward on the northern side of the Nith, opposite
+Lincluden: and his favourite posture for composition at home was
+balancing himself on the hind legs of his arm-chair.
+
+While indulging in these lyrical nights, politics penetrated into
+Nithsdale, and disturbed the tranquillity of that secluded region.
+First, there came a contest far the representation of the Dumfries
+district of boroughs, between Patrick Miller, younger, of Dalswinton,
+and Sir James Johnstone, of Westerhall, and some two years afterwards,
+a struggle for the representation of the county of Kirkcudbright,
+between the interest of the Stewarts, of Galloway, and Patrick Heron,
+of Kerroughtree. In the first of these the poet mingled discretion
+with his mirth, and raised a hearty laugh, in which both parties
+joined; for this sobriety of temper, good reasons may be assigned:
+Miller, the elder, of Dalswinton, had desired to oblige him in the
+affair of Ellisland, and his firm and considerate friend, M'Murdo, of
+Drumlanrig, was chamberlain to his Grace of Queensbury, on whoso
+interest Miller stood. On the other hand, his old Jacobitical
+affections made him the secret well-wisher to Westerhall, for up to
+this time, at least till acid disappointment and the democratic
+doctrine of the natural equality of man influenced him, Burns, or as a
+western rhymer of his day and district worded the reproach--Rob was a
+Tory. His situation, it will therefore be observed, disposed him to
+moderation, and accounts for the milkiness of his Epistle to Fintray,
+in which he marshals the chiefs of the contending factions, and
+foretells the fierceness of the strife, without pretending to foresee
+the event. Neither is he more explicit, though infinitely more
+humorous, in his ballad of "The Five Carlins," in which he
+impersonates the five boroughs--Dumfries, Kirkcudbright, Lochmaben,
+Sanquhar, and Annan, and draws their characters as shrewd and
+calculating dames, met in much wrath and drink to choose a
+representative.
+
+But the two or three years which elapsed between the election for the
+boroughs, and that for the county adjoining, wrought a serious change
+in the temper as well as the opinions of the poet. His Jacobitism, as
+has been said was of a poetic kind, and put on but in obedience to old
+feelings, and made no part of the man: he was in his heart as
+democratic as the kirk of Scotland, which educated him--he
+acknowledged no other superiority but the mental: "he was disposed,
+too," said Professor Walker, "from constitutional temper, from
+education and the accidents of life, to a jealousy of power, and a
+keen hostility against every system which enabled birth and opulence
+to anticipate those rewards which he conceived to belong to genius and
+virtue." When we add to this, a resentment of the injurious treatment
+of the dispensers of public patronage, who had neglected his claims,
+and showered pensions and places on men unworthy of being named with
+him, we have assigned causes for the change of side and the tone of
+asperity and bitterness infused into "The Heron Ballads." Formerly
+honey was mixed with his gall: a little praise sweetened his censure:
+in these election lampoons he is fierce and even venomous:--no man has
+a head but what is empty, nor a heart that is not black: men descended
+without reproach from lines of heroes are stigmatized as cowards, and
+the honest and conscientious are reproached as miserly, mean, and
+dishonourable. Such is the spirit of party. "I have privately," thus
+writes the poet to Heron, "printed a good many copies of the ballads,
+and have sent them among friends about the country. You have already,
+as your auxiliary, the sober detestation of mankind on the heads of
+your opponents; find I swear by the lyre of Thalia, to muster on your
+side all the votaries of honest laughter and fair, candid ridicule."
+The ridicule was uncandid, and the laughter dishonest. The poet was
+unfortunate in his political attachments: Miller gained the boroughs
+which Burns wished he might lose, and Heron lost the county which he
+foretold he would gain. It must also be recorded against the good
+taste of the poet, that he loved to recite "The Heron Ballads," and
+reckon them among his happiest compositions.
+
+From attacking others, the poet was--in the interval between penning
+these election lampoons--called on to defend himself: for this he
+seems to have been quite unprepared, though in those yeasty times he
+might have expected it. "I have been surprised, confounded, and
+distracted," he thus writes to Graham, of Fintray, "by Mr. Mitchell,
+the collector, telling me that he has received an order from your
+board to inquire into my political conduct, and blaming me as a person
+disaffected to government. Sir, you are a husband and a father: you
+know what you would feel, to see the much-loved wife of your bosom,
+and your helpless prattling little ones, turned adrift into the world,
+degraded and disgraced, from a situation in which they had been
+respectable and respected. I would not tell a deliberate falsehood,
+no, not though even worse horrors, if worse can be than those I have
+mentioned, hung over my head, and I say that the allegation, whatever
+villain has made it, is a lie! To the British constitution, on
+Revolution principles, next after my God, I am devotedly attached. To
+your patronage as a man of some genius, you have allowed me a claim;
+and your esteem as an honest man I know is my due. To these, sir,
+permit me to appeal: by these I adjure you to save me from that misery
+which threatens to overwhelm me, and which with my latest breath I
+will say I have not deserved." In this letter, another, intended for
+the eye of the Commissioners of the Board of Excise, was enclosed, in
+which he disclaimed entertaining the idea of a British republic--a
+wild dream of the day--but stood by the principles of the constitution
+of 1688, with the wish to see such corruptions as had crept in,
+amended. This last remark, it appears, by a letter from the poet to
+Captain Erskine, afterwards Earl of Mar, gave great offence, for
+Corbet, one of the superiors, was desired to inform him, "that his
+business was to act, and not to think; and that whatever might be men
+or measures, it was his duty to be silent and obedient." The
+intercession of Fintray, and the explanations of Burns, were so far
+effectual, that his political offense was forgiven, "only I
+understand," said he, "that all hopes of my getting officially forward
+are blasted." The records of the Excise Office exhibit no trace of
+this memorable matter, and two noblemen, who were then in the
+government, have assured me that this harsh proceeding received no
+countenance at head-quarters, and must have originated with some
+ungenerous or malicious person, on whom the poet had spilt a little of
+the nitric acid of his wrath.
+
+That Burns was numbered among the republicans of Dumfries I well
+remember: but then those who held different sentiments from the men in
+power, were all, in that loyal town, stigmatized as democrats: that he
+either desired to see the constitution changed, or his country invaded
+by the liberal French, who proposed to set us free with the bayonet,
+and then admit us to the "fraternal embrace," no one ever believed. It
+is true that he spoke of premiers and peers with contempt; that he
+hesitated to take off his hat in the theatre, to the air of "God save
+the king;" that he refused to drink the health of Pitt, saying he
+preferred that of Washington--a far greater man; that he wrote bitter
+words against that combination of princes, who desired to put down
+freedom in France; that he said the titled spurred and the wealthy
+switched England and Scotland like two hack-horses; and that all the
+high places of the land, instead of being filled by genius and talent,
+were occupied, as were the high-places of Israel, with idols of wood
+or of stone. But all this and more had been done and said before by
+thousands in this land, whose love of their country was never
+questioned. That it was bad taste to refuse to remove his hat when
+other heads were bared, and little better to refuse to pledge in
+company the name of Pitt, because he preferred Washington, cannot
+admit of a doubt; but that he deserved to be written down traitor, for
+mere matters of whim or caprice, or to be turned out of the unenvied
+situation of "gauging auld wives' barrels," because he thought there
+were some stains on the white robe of the constitution, seems a sort
+of tyranny new in the history of oppression. His love of country is
+recorded in too many undying lines to admit of a doubt now: nor is it
+that chivalrous love alone which men call romantic; it is a love which
+may be laid up in every man's heart and practised in every man's life;
+the words are homely, but the words of Burns are always expressive:--
+
+    "The kettle of the kirk and state
+      Perhaps a clout may fail in't,
+    But deil a foreign tinkler loon
+      Shall ever ca' a nail in't.
+    Be Britons still to Britons true,
+      Amang ourselves united;
+    For never but by British hands
+      Shall British wrongs be righted."
+
+But while verses, deserving as these do to become the national motto,
+and sentiments loyal and generous, were overlooked and forgotten, all
+his rash words about freedom, and his sarcastic sallies about thrones
+and kings, were treasured up to his injury, by the mean and the
+malicious. His steps were watched and his words weighed; when he
+talked with a friend in the street, he was supposed to utter sedition;
+and when ladies retired from the table, and the wine circulated with
+closed doors, he was suspected of treason rather than of toasting,
+which he often did with much humour, the charms of woman; even when he
+gave as a sentiment, "May our success be equal to the justice of our
+cause," he was liable to be challenged by some gunpowder captain, who
+thought that we deserved success in war, whether right or wrong. It is
+true that he hated with a most cordial hatred all who presumed on
+their own consequence, whether arising from wealth, titles, or
+commissions in the army; officers he usually called "the epauletted
+puppies," and lords he generally spoke of as "feather-headed fools,"
+who could but strut and stare and be no answer in kind to retort his
+satiric flings, his unfriends reported that it was unsafe for young
+men to associate with one whose principles were democratic, and
+scarcely either modest or safe for young women to listen to a poet
+whose notions of female virtue were so loose and his songs so free.
+These sentiments prevailed so far that a gentleman on a visit from
+London, told me he was dissuaded from inviting Burns to a dinner,
+given by way of welcome back to his native place, because he was the
+associate of democrats and loose people; and when a modest dame of
+Dumfries expressed, through a friend, a wish to have but the honour of
+speaking to one of whose genius she was an admirer, the poet declined
+the interview, with a half-serious smile, saying, "Alas! she is
+handsome, and you know the character publicly assigned to me." She
+escaped the danger of being numbered, it is likely, with the Annas and
+the Chlorises of his freer strains.
+
+The neglect of his country, the tyranny of the Excise, and the
+downfall of his hopes and fortunes, were now to bring forth their
+fruits--the poet's health began to decline. His drooping looks, his
+neglect of his person, his solitary saunterings, his escape from the
+stings of reflection into socialities, and his distempered joy in the
+company of beauty, all spoke, as plainly as with a tongue, of a
+sinking heart and a declining body. Yet though he was sensible of
+sinking health, hope did not at once desert him: he continued to pour
+out such tender strains, and to show such flashes of wit and humour at
+the call of Thomson, as are recorded of no other lyrist: neither did
+he, when in company after his own mind, hang the head, and speak
+mournfully, but talked and smiled and still charmed all listeners by
+his witty vivacities.
+
+On the 20th of June, 1795, he writes thus of his fortunes and
+condition to his friend Clarke, "Still, still the victim of
+affliction; were you to see the emaciated figure who now holds the pen
+to you, you would not know your old friend. Whether I shall ever get
+about again is only known to HIM, the Great Unknown, whoso creature I
+am. Alas, Clarke, I begin to fear the worst! As to my individual self
+I am tranquil, and would despise myself if I were not: but Burns's
+poor widow and half-a-dozen of his dear little ones, helpless orphans!
+_Here_ I am as weak as a woman's tear. Enough of this! 'tis half my
+disease. I duly received your last, enclosing the note: it came
+extremely in time, and I am much obliged to your punctuality. Again I
+must request you to do me the same kindness. Be so very good as by
+return of post to enclose me _another_ note: I trust you can do so
+without inconvenience, and it will seriously oblige me. If I must go,
+I leave a few friends behind me, whom I shall regret while
+consciousness remains. I know I shall live in their remembrance. O,
+dear, dear Clarke! that I shall ever see you again is I am afraid
+highly improbable." This remarkable letter proves both the declining
+health, and the poverty of the poet: his digestion was so bad that he
+could taste neither flesh nor fish: porridge and milk he could alone
+swallow, and that but in small quantities. When it is recollected that
+he had no more than thirty shillings a week to keep house, and live
+like a gentleman, no one need wonder that his wife had to be obliged
+to a generous neighbour for some of the chief necessaries for her
+coming confinement, and that the poet had to beg, in extreme need, two
+guinea notes from a distant friend.
+
+His sinking state was not unobserved by his friends, and Syme and
+M'Murdo united with Dr. Maxwell in persuading him, at the beginning of
+the summer, to seek health at the Brow-well, a few miles east of
+Dumfries, where there were pleasant walks on the Solway-side, and
+salubrious breezes from the sea, which it was expected would bring the
+health to the poet they had brought to many. For a while, his looks
+brightened up, and health seemed inclined to return: his friend, the
+witty and accomplished Mrs. Riddel, who was herself ailing, paid him a
+visit. "I was struck," she said, "with his appearance on entering the
+room: the stamp of death was impressed on his features. His first
+words were, 'Well, Madam, have you any commands for the other world?'
+I replied that it seemed a doubtful case which of us should be there
+soonest; he looked in my face with an air of great kindness, and
+expressed his concern at seeing me so ill, with his usual sensibility.
+At table he ate little or nothing: we had a long conversation about
+his present state, and the approaching termination of all his earthly
+prospects. He showed great concern about his literary fame, and
+particularly the publication of his posthumous works; he said he was
+well aware that his death would occasion some noise, and that every
+scrap of his writing would be revived against him, to the injury of
+his future reputation; that letters and verses, written with unguarded
+freedom, would be handed about by vanity or malevolence when no dread
+of his resentment would restrain them, or prevent malice or envy from
+pouring forth their venom on his name. I had seldom seen his mind
+greater, or more collected. There was frequently a considerable degree
+of vivacity in his sallies; but the concern and dejection I could not
+disguise, damped the spirit of pleasantry he seemed willing to
+indulge." This was on the evening of the 5th of July; another lady who
+called to see him, found him seated at a window, gazing on the sun,
+then setting brightly on the summits of the green hills of Nithsdale.
+"Look how lovely the sun is," said the poet, "but he will soon have
+done with shining for me."
+
+He now longed for home: his wife, whom he ever tenderly loved, was
+about to be confined in child-bed: his papers were in sad confusion,
+and required arrangement; and he felt that desire to die, at least,
+among familiar things and friendly faces, so common to our nature. He
+had not long before, though much reduced in pocket, refused with scorn
+an offer of fifty pounds, which a speculating bookseller made, for
+leave to publish his looser compositions; he had refused an offer of
+the like sum yearly, from Perry of the Morning Chronicle, for poetic
+contributions to his paper, lest it might embroil him with the ruling
+powers, and he had resented the remittance of five pounds from
+Thomson, on account of his lyric contributions, and desired him to do
+so no more, unless he wished to quarrel with him; but his necessities
+now, and they had at no time been so great, induced him to solicit
+five pounds from Thomson, and ten pounds from his cousin, James
+Burness, of Montrose, and to beg his friend Alexander Cunningham to
+intercede with the Commissioners of Excise, to depart from their usual
+practice, and grant him his full salary; "for without that," he added,
+"if I die not of disease, I must perish with hunger." Thomson sent the
+five pounds, James Burness sent the ten, but the Commissioners of
+Excise refused to be either merciful or generous. Stobie, a young
+expectant in the customs, was both;--he performed the duties of the
+dying poet, and refused to touch the salary. The mind of Burns was
+haunted with the fears of want and the terrors of a jail; nor were
+those fears without foundation; one Williamson, to whom he was
+indebted for the cloth to make his volunteer regimentals, threatened
+the one; and a feeling that he was without money for either his own
+illness or the confinement of his wife, threatened the other.
+
+Burns returned from the Brow-well, on the 18th of July: as he walked
+from the little carriage which brought him up the Mill hole-brae to
+his own door, he trembled much, and stooped with weakness and pain,
+and kept his feet with difficulty: his looks were woe-worn and
+ghastly, and no one who saw him, and there were several, expected to
+see him again in life. It was soon circulated through Dumfries, that
+Burns had returned worse from the Brow-well; that Maxwell thought ill
+of him, and that, in truth, he was dying. The anxiety of all classes
+was great; differences of opinion were forgotten, in sympathy for his
+early fate: wherever two or three were met together their talk was of
+Burns, of his rare wit, matchless humour, the vivacity of his
+conversation, and the kindness of his heart. To the poet himself,
+death, which he now knew was at hand, brought with it no fear; his
+good-humour, which small matters alone ruffled, did not forsake him,
+and his wit was ever ready. He was poor--he gave his pistols, which he
+had used against the smugglers on the Solway, to his physician, adding
+with a smile, that he had tried them and found them an honour to their
+maker, which was more than he could say of the bulk of mankind! He was
+proud--he remembered the indifferent practice of the corps to which he
+belonged, and turning to Gibson, one of his fellow-soldiers, who stood
+at his bedside with wet eyes, "John," said he, and a gleam of humour
+passed over his face, "pray don't let the awkward-squad fire over me."
+It was almost the last act of his life to copy into his Common-place
+Book, the letters which contained the charge against him of the
+Commissioners of Excise, and his own eloquent refutation, leaving
+judgment to be pronounced by the candour of posterity.
+
+It has been injuriously said of Burns, by Coleridge, that the man
+sunk, but the poet was bright to the last: he did not sink in the
+sense that these words imply: the man was manly to the latest draught
+of breath. That he was a poet to the last, can be proved by facts, as
+well as by the word of the author of Christabel. As he lay silently
+growing weaker and weaker, he observed Jessie Lewars, a modest and
+beautiful young creature, and sister to one of his brethren of the
+Excise, watching over him with moist eyes, and tending him with the
+care of a daughter; he rewarded her with one of those songs which are
+an insurance against forgetfulness. The lyrics of the north have
+nothing finer than this exquisite stanza:--
+
+    "Altho' thou maun never be mine,
+      Altho' even hope is denied,
+    'Tis sweeter for thee despairing,
+      Than aught in the world beside."
+
+His thoughts as he lay wandered to Charlotte Hamilton, and he
+dedicated some beautiful stanzas to her beauty and her coldness,
+beginning, "Fairest maid on Devon banks."
+
+It was a sad sight to see the poet gradually sinking; his wife in
+hourly expectation of her sixth confinement, and his four helpless
+children--a daughter, a sweet child, had died the year before--with no
+one of their lineage to soothe them with kind words or minister to
+their wants. Jessie Lewars, with equal prudence and attention, watched
+over them all: she could not help seeing that the thoughts of the
+desolation which his death would bring, pressed sorely on him, for he
+loved his children, and hoped much from his boys. He wrote to his
+father-in-law, James Armour, at Mauchline, that he was dying, his wife
+nigh her confinement, and begged that his mother-in-law would hasten
+to them and speak comfort. He wrote to Mrs. Dunlop, saying, "I have
+written to you so often without receiving any answer that I would not
+trouble you again, but for the circumstances in which I am. An illness
+which has long hung about me in all probability will speedily send me
+beyond that bourne whence no traveller returns. Your friendship, with
+which for many years you honoured me, was a friendship dearest to my
+soul: your conversation and your correspondence were at once highly
+entertaining and instructive--with what pleasure did I use to break up
+the seal! The remembrance yet adds one pulse more to my poor
+palpitating heart. Farewell!" A tremor pervaded his frame; his tongue
+grew parched, and he was at times delirious: on the fourth day after
+his return, when his attendant, James Maclure, held his medicine to
+his lips, he swallowed it eagerly, rose almost wholly up, spread out
+his hands, sprang forward nigh the whole length of the bed, fell on
+his face, and expired. He died on the 21st of July, when nearly
+thirty-seven years and seven months old.
+
+The burial of Burns, on the 25th of July, was an impressive and
+mournful scene: half the people of Nithsdale and the neighbouring
+parts of Galloway had crowded into Dumfries, to see their poet
+"mingled with the earth," and not a few had been permitted to look at
+his body, laid out for interment. It was a calm and beautiful day, and
+as the body was borne along the street towards the old kirk-yard, by
+his brethren of the volunteers, not a sound was heard but the measured
+step and the solemn music: there was no impatient crushing, no fierce
+elbowing--the crowd which filled the street seemed conscious of what
+they were now losing for ever. Even while this pageant was passing,
+the widow of the poet was taken in labour; but the infant born in that
+unhappy hour soon shared his father's grave. On reaching the northern
+nook of the kirk-yard, where the grave was made, the mourners halted;
+the coffin was divested of the mort-cloth, and silently lowered to its
+resting-place, and as the first shovel-full of earth fell on the lid,
+the volunteers, too agitated to be steady, justified the fears of the
+poet, by three ragged volleys. He who now writes this very brief and
+imperfect account, was present: he thought then, as he thinks now,
+that all the military array of foot and horse did not harmonize with
+either the genius or the fortunes of the poet, and that the tears
+which he saw on many cheeks around, as the earth was replaced, were
+worth all the splendour of a show which mocked with unintended mockery
+the burial of the poor and neglected Burns. The body of the poet was,
+on the 5th of June, 1815, removed to a more commodious spot in the
+same burial-ground--his dark, and waving locks looked then fresh and
+glossy--to afford room for a marble monument, which embodies, with
+neither skill nor grace, that well-known passage in the dedication to
+the gentlemen of the Caledonian Hunt:--"The poetic genius of my
+country found me, as the prophetic bard, Elijah, did Elisha, at the
+plough, and threw her inspiring mantle over me." The dust of the bard
+was again disturbed, when the body of Mrs. Burns was laid, in April,
+1834, beside the remains of her husband: his skull was dug up by the
+district craniologists, to satisfy their minds by measurement that he
+was equal to the composition of "Tam o' Shanter," or "Mary in Heaven."
+This done, they placed the skull in a leaden box, "carefully lined
+with the softest materials," and returned it, we hope for ever, to the
+hallowed ground.
+
+Thus lived and died Robert Burns, the chief of Scottish poets: in his
+person he was tall and sinewy, and of such strength and activity, that
+Scott alone, of all the poets I have seen, seemed his equal: his
+forehead was broad, his hair black, with an inclination to curl, his
+visage uncommonly swarthy, his eyes large, dark and lustrous, and his
+voice deep and manly. His sensibility was strong, his passions full to
+overflowing, and he loved, nay, adored, whatever was gentle and
+beautiful. He had, when a lad at the plough, an eloquent word and an
+inspired song for every fair face that smiled on him, and a sharp
+sarcasm or a fierce lampoon for every rustic who thwarted or
+contradicted him. As his first inspiration came from love, he
+continued through life to love on, and was as ready with the lasting
+incense of the muse for the ladies of Nithsdale as for the lasses of
+Kyle: his earliest song was in praise of a young girl who reaped by
+his side, when he was seventeen--his latest in honour of a lady by
+whose side he had wandered and dreamed on the banks of the Devon. He
+was of a nature proud and suspicious, and towards the close of his
+life seemed disposed to regard all above him in rank as men who
+unworthily possessed the patrimony of genius: he desired to see the
+order of nature restored, and worth and talent in precedence of the
+base or the dull. He had no medium in his hatred or his love; he never
+spared the stupid, as if they were not to be endured because he was
+bright; and on the heads of the innocent possessors of titles or
+wealth he was ever ready to shower his lampoons. He loved to start
+doubts in religion which he knew inspiration only could solve, and he
+spoke of Calvinism with a latitude of language that grieved pious
+listeners. He was warm-hearted and generous to a degree, above all
+men, and scorned all that was selfish and mean with a scorn quite
+romantic. He was a steadfast friend and a good neighbour: while he
+lived at Ellisland few passed his door without being entertained at
+his table; and even when in poverty, on the Millhole-brae, the poor
+seldom left his door but with blessings on their lips.
+
+Of his modes of study he has himself informed us, as well as of the
+seasons and the places in which he loved to muse. He composed while he
+strolled along the secluded banks of the Doon, the Ayr, or the Nith:
+as the images crowded on his fancy his pace became quickened, and in
+his highest moods he was excited even to tears. He loved the winter
+for its leafless trees, its swelling floods, and its winds which swept
+along the gloomy sky, with frost and snow on their wings: but he loved
+the autumn more--he has neglected to say why--the muse was then more
+liberal of her favours, and he composed with a happy alacrity unfelt
+in all other seasons. He filled his mind and heart with the materials
+of song--and retired from gazing on woman's beauty, and from the
+excitement of her charms, to record his impressions in verse, as a
+painter delineates oil his canvas the looks of those who sit to his
+pencil. His chief place of study at Ellisland is still remembered: it
+extends along the river-bank towards the Isle: there the neighbouring
+gentry love to walk and peasants to gather, and hold it sacred, as the
+place where he composed Tam O' Shanter. His favourite place of study
+when residing in Dumfries, was the ruins of Lincluden College, made
+classic by that sublime ode, "The Vision," and that level and clovery
+sward contiguous to the College, on the northern side of the Nith: the
+latter place was his favourite resort; it is known now by the name of
+Burns's musing ground, and there he conceived many of his latter
+lyrics. In case of interruption he completed the verses at the
+fireside, where he swung to and fro in his arm-chair till the task was
+done: he then submitted the song to the ordeal of his wife's voice,
+which was both sweet and clear, and while she sung he listened
+attentively, and altered or amended till the whole was in harmony,
+music and words.
+
+The genius of Burns is of a high order: in brightness of expression
+and unsolicited ease and natural vehemence of language, he stands in
+the first rank of poets: in choice of subjects, in happiness of
+conception, and loftiness of imagination, he recedes into the second.
+He owes little of his fame to his objects, for, saving the beauty of a
+few ladies, they were all of an ordinary kind: he sought neither in
+romance nor in history for themes to the muse; he took up topics from
+life around which were familiar to all, and endowed them with
+character, with passion, with tenderness, with humour--elevating all
+that he touched into the regions of poetry and morals. He went to no
+far lands for the purpose of surprising us with wonders, neither did
+he go to crowns or coronets to attract the stare of the peasantry
+around him, by things which to them were as a book shut and sealed:
+"The Daisy" grew on the lands which he ploughed; "The Mouse" built her
+frail nest on his own stubble-field; "The Haggis" reeked on his own
+table; "The Scotch Drink" of which he sang was the produce of a
+neighbouring still; "The Twa Dogs," which conversed so wisely and
+wittily, were, one of them at least, his own collies; "The Vision" is
+but a picture, and a brilliant one, of his own hopes and fears; "Tam
+Samson" was a friend whom he loved; "Doctor Hornbook" a neighbouring
+pedant; "Matthew Henderson" a social captain on half-pay; "The Scotch
+Bard" who had gone to the West Indies was Burns himself; the heroine
+of "The Lament" was Jean Armour; and "Tam O' Shanter" a facetious
+farmer of Kyle, who rode late and loved pleasant company, nay, even
+"The Deil" himself, whom he had the hardihood to address, was a being
+whose eldrich croon bad alarmed the devout matrons of Kyle, and had
+wandered, not unseen by the bard himself, among the lonely glens of
+the Doon. Burns was one of the first to teach the world that high
+moral poetry resided in the humblest subjects: whatever he touched
+became elevated; his spirit possessed and inspired the commonest
+topics, and endowed them with life and beauty.
+
+His songs have all the beauties and but few of them the faults of his
+poems: they flow to the music as readily as if both air and words came
+into the world together. The sentiments are from nature, they are
+rarely strained or forced, and the words dance in their places and
+echo the music in its pastoral sweetness, social glee, or in the
+tender and the moving. He seems always to write with woman's eye upon
+him: he is gentle, persuasive and impassioned: he appears to watch her
+looks, and pours out his praise or his complaint according to the
+changeful moods of her mind. He looks on her, too, with a sculptor's
+as well as a poet's eye: to him who works in marble, the diamonds,
+emeralds, pearls, and elaborate ornaments of gold, but load and injure
+the harmony of proportion, the grace of form, and divinity of
+sentiment of his nymph or his goddess--so with Burns the fashion of a
+lady's boddice, the lustre of her satins, or the sparkle of her
+diamonds, or other finery with which wealth or taste has loaded her,
+are neglected us idle frippery; while her beauty, her form, or her
+mind, matters which are of nature and not of fashion, are remembered
+and praised. He is none of the millinery bards, who deal in scented
+silks, spider-net laces, rare gems, set in rarer workmanship, and who
+shower diamonds and pearls by the bushel on a lady's locks: he makes
+bright eyes, flushing cheeks, the magic of the tongue, and the
+"pulses' maddening play" perform all. His songs are, in general,
+pastoral pictures: he seldom finishes a portrait of female beauty
+without enclosing it in a natural frame-work of waving woods, running
+streams, the melody of birds, and the lights of heaven. Those who
+desire to feel Burns in all his force, must seek some summer glen,
+when a country girl searches among his many songs for one which
+sympathizes with her own heart, and gives it full utterance, till wood
+and vale is filled with the melody. It is remarkable that the most
+naturally elegant and truly impassioned songs in our literature were
+written by a ploughman in honour of the rustic lasses around him.
+
+His poetry is all life and energy, and bears the impress of a warm
+heart and a clear understanding: it abounds with passions and
+opinions--vivid pictures of rural happiness and the raptures of
+successful love, all fresh from nature and observation, and not as
+they are seen through the spectacles of books. The wit of the clouted
+shoe is there without its coarseness: there is a prodigality of humour
+without licentiousness, a pathos ever natural and manly, a social joy
+akin sometimes to sadness, a melancholy not unallied to mirth, and a
+sublime morality which seeks to elevate and soothe. To a love of man
+he added an affection for the flowers of the valley, the fowls of the
+air, and the beasts of the field: he perceived the tie of social
+sympathy which united animated with unanimated nature, and in many of
+his finest poems most beautifully he has enforced it. His thoughts are
+original and his style new and unborrowed: all that he has written is
+distinguished by a happy carelessness, a bounding elasticity of
+spirit, and a singular felicity of expression, simple yet inimitable;
+he is familiar yet dignified, careless, yet correct, and concise, yet
+clear and full. All this and much more is embodied in the language of
+humble life--a dialect reckoned barbarous by scholars, but which,
+coming from the lips of inspiration, becomes classic and elevated.
+
+The prose of this great poet has much of the original merit of his
+verse, but it is seldom so natural and so sustained: it abounds with
+fine outflashings and with a genial warmth and vigour, but it is
+defaced by false ornament and by a constant anxiety to say fine and
+forcible things. He seems not to know that simplicity was as rare and
+as needful a beauty in prose as in verse; he covets the pauses of
+Sterne and the point and antithesis of Junius, like one who believes
+that to write prose well he must be ever lively, ever pointed, and
+ever smart. Yet the account which he wrote of himself to Dr. Moore is
+one of the most spirited and natural narratives in the language, and
+composed in a style remote from the strained and groped-for witticisms
+and put-on sensibilities of many of his letters:--"Simple," as John
+Wilson says, "we may well call it; rich in fancy, overflowing in
+feeling, and dashed off in every other paragraph with the easy
+boldness of a great master."
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE.
+
+
+[The first edition, printed at Kilmarnock, July, 1786, by John Wilson,
+bore on the title-page these simple words:--"Poems, chiefly in the
+Scottish Dialect, by Robert Burns;" the following motto, marked
+"Anonymous," but evidently the poet's own composition, was more
+ambitious:--
+
+    "The simple Bard, unbroke by rules of art,
+    He pours the wild effusions of the heart:
+    And if inspired, 'tis nature's pow'rs inspire--
+    Hers all the melting thrill, and hers the kindling fire."]
+
+The following trifles are not the production of the Poet, who, with
+all the advantages of learned art, and perhaps amid the elegancies and
+idlenesses of upper life, looks down for a rural theme with an eye to
+Theocritus or Virgil. To the author of this, these, and other
+celebrated names their countrymen, are, at least in their original
+language, _a fountain shut up, and a book sealed._ Unacquainted with
+the necessary requisites for commencing poet by rule, he sings the
+sentiments and manners he felt and saw in himself and his rustic
+compeers around him in his and their native language. Though a rhymer
+from his earliest years, at least from the earliest impulse of the
+softer passions, it was not till very lately that the applause,
+perhaps the partiality, of friendship awakened his vanity so for as to
+make him think anything of his worth showing: and none of the
+following works were composed with a view to the press. To amuse
+himself with the little creations of his own fancy, amid the toil and
+fatigue of a laborious life; to transcribe the various feelings--the
+loves, the griefs, the hopes, the fears--in his own breast; to find
+some kind of counterpoise to the struggles of a world, always an alien
+scene, a task uncouth to the poetical mind--these were his motives for
+courting the Muses, and in these he found poetry to be its own reward.
+
+Now that he appears in the public character of an author, he does it
+with fear and trembling. So dear is fame to the rhyming tribe, that
+even he, an obscure, nameless Bard, shrinks aghast at the thought of
+being branded as--an impertinent blockhead, obtruding his nonsense on
+the world; and, because he can make a shift to jingle a few doggerel
+Scotch rhymes together, looking upon himself as a poet of no small
+consequence, forsooth!
+
+It is an observation of that celebrated poet, Shenstone, whose divine
+elegies do honour to our language, our nation, and our species, that
+"_Humility_ has depressed many a genius to a hermit, but never raised
+one to fame!" If any critic catches at the word _genius_ the author
+tells him, once for all, that he certainly looks upon himself as
+possessed of some poetic abilities, otherwise his publishing in the
+manner he has done would be a manoeuvre below the worst character,
+which, he hopes, his worst enemy will ever give him. But to the genius
+of a Ramsay, or the glorious dawnings of the poor, unfortunate
+Fergusson, he, with equal unaffected sincerity, declares, that even in
+his highest pulse of vanity, he has not the most distant pretensions.
+These two justly admired Scotch poets he has often had in his eye in
+the following pieces, but rather with a view to kindle at their flame,
+than for servile imitation.
+
+To his Subscriber, the Author returns his most sincere thanks. Not the
+mercenary bow over a counter, but the heart-throbbing gratitude of the
+Bard, conscious how much he owes to benevolence and friendship for
+gratifying him, if he deserves it, in that dearest wish of every
+poetic bosom--to be distinguished. He begs his readers, particularly
+the learned and the polite, who may honour him with a perusal, that
+they will make every allowance for education and circumstances of
+life; but if, after a fair, candid, and impartial criticism, he shall
+stand convicted of dulness and nonsense, let him be done by as he
+would in that case do by others--let him be condemned, without mercy,
+in contempt and oblivion.
+
+
+
+
+THE
+
+POETICAL WORKS
+
+OF
+
+ROBERT BURNS.
+
+
+I.
+
+WINTER.
+
+A DIRGE.
+
+[This is one of the earliest of the poet's recorded compositions: it
+was written before the death of his father, and is called by Gilbert
+Burns, 'a juvenile production.' To walk by a river while flooded, or
+through a wood on a rough winter day, and hear the storm howling among
+the leafless trees, exalted the poet's thoughts. "In such a season,"
+he said, "just after a train of misfortunes, I composed _Winter, a
+Dirge._"]
+
+
+    The wintry west extends his blast,
+      And hail and rain does blaw;
+    Or the stormy north sends driving forth
+      The blinding sleet and snaw;
+    While tumbling brown, the burn comes down,
+      And roars frae bank to brae;
+    And bird and beast in covert rest,
+      And pass the heartless day.
+
+    "The sweeping blast, the sky o'ercast,"[1]
+      The joyless winter day
+    Let others fear, to me more dear
+      Than all the pride of May:
+    The tempest's howl, it soothes my soul,
+      My griefs it seems to join;
+    The leafless trees my fancy please,
+      Their fate resembles mine!
+
+    Thou Power Supreme, whose mighty scheme
+      These woes of mine fulfil,
+    Here, firm, I rest, they must be best,
+      Because they are Thy will!
+    Then all I want (O, do thou grant
+      This one request of mine!)
+    Since to enjoy Thou dost deny,
+      Assist me to resign!
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 1: Dr. Young.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+II.
+
+THE
+
+DEATH AND DYING WORDS
+
+OF
+
+POOR MAILIE,
+
+THE AUTHOR'S ONLY PET YOWE.
+
+AN UNCO MOURNFU' TALE.
+
+[This tale is partly true; the poet's pet ewe got entangled in her
+tether, and tumbled into a ditch; the face of ludicrous and awkward
+sorrow with which this was related by Hughoc, the herd-boy, amused
+Burns so much, who was on his way to the plough, that he immediately
+composed the poem, and repeated it to his brother Gilbert when they
+met in the evening; the field where the poet held the plough, and the
+ditch into which poor Mailie fell, are still pointed out.]
+
+
+    As Mailie, an' her lambs thegither,
+    Were ae day nibbling on the tether,
+    Upon her cloot she coost a hitch,
+    An' owre she warsl'd in the ditch:
+    There, groaning, dying, she did lie,
+    When Hughoc[2] he cam doytin by.
+    Wi' glowing e'en an' lifted han's,
+    Poor Hughoc like a statue stan's;
+    He saw her days were near-hand ended,
+    But, waes my heart! he could na mend it!
+    He gaped wide but naething spak--
+    At length poor Mailie silence brak.
+
+    "O thou, whose lamentable face
+    Appears to mourn my woefu' case!
+    My dying words attentive hear,
+    An' bear them to my master dear.
+
+      "Tell him, if e'er again he keep
+    As muckle gear as buy a sheep,
+    O bid him never tie them mair
+    Wi' wicked strings o' hemp or hair!
+    But ca' them out to park or hill,
+    An' let them wander at their will;
+    So may his flock increase, and grow
+    To scores o' lambs, an' packs of woo'!
+
+      "Tell him he was a master kin'
+    An' ay was gude to me an' mine;
+    An' now my dying charge I gie him,
+    My helpless lambs, I trust them wi' him.
+
+      "O, bid him save their harmless lives
+    Frae dogs, and tods, an' butchers' knives!
+    But gie them guid cow-milk their fill,
+    Till they be fit to fend themsel;
+    An' tent them duly, e'en an' morn,
+    Wi' teats o' hay, an' ripps o' corn.
+
+      "An' may they never learn the gaets
+    Of ither vile, wanrestfu' pets!
+    To sink thro' slaps, an' reave an' steal
+    At stacks o' pease, or stocks o' kail.
+    So may they, like their great forbears,
+    For monie a year come thro' the sheers;
+    So wives will gie them bits o' bread,
+    An' bairns greet for them when they're dead.
+
+      "My poor toop-lamb, my son an' heir,
+    O, bid him breed him up wi' care;
+    An' if he live to be a beast,
+    To pit some havins in his breast!
+    An' warn him what I winna name,
+    To stay content wi' yowes at hame
+    An' no to rin an' wear his cloots,
+    Like ither menseless, graceless brutes.
+
+      "An' niest my yowie, silly thing,
+    Gude keep thee frae a tether string!
+    O, may thou ne'er forgather up
+    Wi' ony blastit, moorland toop,
+    But ay keep mind to moop an' mell
+    Wi' sheep o' credit like thysel!
+
+      "And now, my bairns, wi' my last breath
+    I lea'e my blessin wi' you baith:
+    An' when you think upo' your mither,
+    Mind to be kind to ane anither.
+
+      "Now, honest Hughoc, dinna fail
+    To tell my master a' my tale;
+    An' bid him burn this cursed tether,
+    An', for thy pains, thou'se get my blather."
+
+    This said, poor Mailie turn'd her head,
+    And clos'd her een amang the dead.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 2: A neibor herd-callan.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+III.
+
+POOR MAILIE'S ELEGY.
+
+[Burns, when he calls on the bards of Ayr and Doon to join in the
+lament for Mailie, intimates that he regards himself as a poet. Hogg
+calls it a very elegant morsel: but says that it resembles too closely
+"The Ewie and the Crooked Horn," to be admired as original: the
+shepherd might have remembered that they both resemble Sempill's "Life
+and death of the Piper of Kilbarchan."]
+
+
+    Lament in rhyme, lament in prose,
+    Wi' saut tears trickling down your nose;
+    Our bardie's fate is at a close,
+                         Past a' remead;
+    The last sad cape-stane of his woes;
+                         Poor Mailie's dead.
+
+    It's no the loss o' warl's gear,
+    That could sae bitter draw the tear,
+    Or mak our bardie, dowie, wear
+                         The mourning weed;
+    He's lost a friend and neebor dear,
+                         In Mailie dead.
+
+    Thro' a' the toun she trotted by him;
+    A long half-mile she could descry him;
+    Wi' kindly bleat, when she did spy him,
+                         She run wi' speed:
+    A friend mair faithfu' ne'er cam nigh him,
+                         Than Mailie dead.
+
+    I wat she was a sheep o' sense,
+    An' could behave hersel wi' mense:
+    I'll say't, she never brak a fence,
+                         Thro' thievish greed.
+    Our bardie, tamely, keeps the spence
+                         Sin' Mailie's dead.
+
+    Or, if he wonders up the howe,
+    Her living image in her yowe
+    Comes bleating to him, owre the knowe,
+                         For bits o' bread;
+    An' down the briny pearls rowe
+                         For Mailie dead.
+
+    She was nae get o' moorland tips,[3]
+    Wi' tawted ket, an hairy hips;
+    For her forbears were brought in ships
+                         Frae yont the Tweed:
+    A bonnier fleesh ne'er cross'd the clips
+                         Than Mailie dead.
+
+    Wae worth the man wha first did shape
+    That vile, wanchancie thing--a rape!
+    It maks guid fellows girn an' gape,
+                         Wi' chokin dread;
+    An' Robin's bonnet wave wi' crape,
+                         For Mailie dead.
+
+    O, a' ye bards on bonnie Doon!
+    An' wha on Ayr your chanters tune!
+    Come, join the melancholious croon
+                         O' Robin's reed!
+    His heart will never get aboon!
+                         His Mailie's dead!
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 3: VARIATION.
+
+    'She was nae get o' runted rams,
+    Wi' woo' like goats an' legs like trams;
+    She was the flower o' Farlie lambs,
+                  A famous breed!
+    Now Robin, greetin, chews the hams
+                  O' Mailie dead.']
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+IV.
+
+FIRST EPISTLE TO DAVIE,
+
+A BROTHER POET
+
+[In the summer of 1781, Burns, while at work in the garden, repeated
+this Epistle to his brother Gilbert, who was much pleased with the
+performance, which he considered equal if not superior to some of
+Allan Ramsay's Epistles, and said if it were printed he had no doubt
+that it would be well received by people of taste.]
+
+--_January_, [1784.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    While winds frae aff Ben-Lomond blaw,
+    And bar the doors wi' driving snaw,
+      And hing us owre the ingle,
+    I set me down to pass the time,
+    And spin a verse or twa o' rhyme,
+      In hamely westlin jingle.
+    While frosty winds blaw in the drift,
+      Ben to the chimla lug,
+    I grudge a wee the great folks' gift,
+      That live sae bien an' snug:
+        I tent less and want less
+          Their roomy fire-side;
+        But hanker and canker
+          To see their cursed pride.
+
+II.
+
+    It's hardly in a body's power
+    To keep, at times, frae being sour,
+      To see how things are shar'd;
+    How best o' chiels are whiles in want.
+    While coofs on countless thousands rant,
+      And ken na how to wair't;
+    But Davie, lad, ne'er fash your head,
+      Tho' we hae little gear,
+    We're fit to win our daily bread,
+      As lang's we're hale and fier:
+        "Muir spier na, nor fear na,"[4]
+          Auld age ne'er mind a feg,
+        The last o't, the warst o't,
+          Is only but to beg.
+
+III.
+
+    To lie in kilns and barns at e'en
+    When banes are craz'd, and bluid is thin,
+      Is, doubtless, great distress!
+    Yet then content could make us blest;
+    Ev'n then, sometimes we'd snatch a taste
+      O' truest happiness.
+    The honest heart that's free frae a'
+      Intended fraud or guile,
+    However Fortune kick the ba',
+      Has ay some cause to smile:
+        And mind still, you'll find still,
+          A comfort this nae sma';
+        Nae mair then, we'll care then,
+          Nae farther we can fa'.
+
+IV.
+
+    What tho', like commoners of air,
+    We wander out we know not where,
+      But either house or hall?
+    Yet nature's charms, the hills and woods,
+    The sweeping vales, and foaming floods,
+      Are free alike to all.
+    In days when daisies deck the ground,
+      And blackbirds whistle clear,
+    With honest joy our hearts will bound
+      To see the coming year:
+        On braes when we please, then,
+          We'll sit and sowth a tune;
+        Syne rhyme till't we'll time till't,
+          And sing't when we hae done.
+
+V.
+
+    It's no in titles nor in rank;
+    It's no in wealth like Lon'on bank,
+      To purchase peace and rest;
+    It's no in makin muckle mair;
+    It's no in books, it's no in lear,
+      To make us truly blest;
+    If happiness hae not her seat
+      And centre in the breast,
+    We may be wise, or rich, or great,
+      But never can be blest:
+        Nae treasures, nor pleasures,
+          Could make us happy lang;
+        The heart ay's the part ay
+          That makes us right or wrang.
+
+VI.
+
+    Think ye, that sic as you and I,
+    Wha drudge and drive thro' wet an' dry,
+      Wi' never-ceasing toil;
+    Think ye, are we less blest than they,
+    Wha scarcely tent us in their way,
+      As hardly worth their while?
+    Alas! how aft, in haughty mood
+      God's creatures they oppress!
+    Or else, neglecting a' that's guid,
+      They riot in excess!
+        Baith careless and fearless
+          Of either heaven or hell!
+        Esteeming and deeming
+          It's a' an idle tale!
+
+VII.
+
+    Then let us cheerfu' acquiesce;
+    Nor make one scanty pleasures less,
+      By pining at our state;
+    And, even should misfortunes come,
+    I, here wha sit, hae met wi' some,
+      An's thankfu' for them yet.
+    They gie the wit of age to youth;
+      They let us ken oursel';
+    They make us see the naked truth,
+      The real guid and ill.
+        Tho' losses, and crosses,
+          Be lessons right severe,
+        There's wit there, ye'll get there,
+          Ye'll find nae other where.
+
+VIII.
+
+    But tent me, Davie, ace o' hearts!
+    (To say aught less wad wrang the cartes,
+      And flatt'ry I detest,)
+    This life has joys for you and I;
+    And joys that riches ne'er could buy:
+      And joys the very best.
+    There's a' the pleasures o' the heart,
+      The lover an' the frien';
+    Ye hae your Meg your dearest part,
+      And I my darling Jean!
+        It warms me, it charms me,
+          To mention but her name:
+        It heats me, it beets me,
+          And sets me a' on flame!
+
+IX.
+
+    O, all ye pow'rs who rule above!
+    O, Thou, whose very self art love!
+      Thou know'st my words sincere!
+    The life-blood streaming thro' my heart,
+    Or my more dear immortal part,
+      Is not more fondly dear!
+    When heart-corroding care and grief
+      Deprive my soul of rest,
+    Her dear idea brings relief
+      And solace to my breast.
+        Thou Being, All-seeing,
+          O hear my fervent pray'r!
+        Still take her, and make her
+          Thy most peculiar care!
+
+X.
+
+    All hail, ye tender feelings dear!
+    The smile of love, the friendly tear,
+      The sympathetic glow!
+    Long since, this world's thorny ways
+    Had number'd out my weary days,
+      Had it not been for you!
+    Fate still has blest me with a friend,
+      In every care and ill;
+    And oft a more endearing hand,
+      A tie more tender still.
+        It lightens, it brightens
+          The tenebrific scene,
+        To meet with, and greet with
+          My Davie or my Jean!
+
+XI.
+
+    O, how that name inspires my style
+    The words come skelpin, rank and file,
+      Amaist before I ken!
+    The ready measure rins as fine,
+    As Phoebus and the famous Nine
+      Were glowrin owre my pen.
+    My spaviet Pegasus will limp,
+      'Till ance he's fairly het;
+    And then he'll hilch, and stilt, and jimp,
+      An' rin an unco fit:
+        But least then, the beast then
+          Should rue this hasty ride,
+        I'll light now, and dight now
+          His sweaty, wizen'd hide.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 4: Ramsay.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+V.
+
+SECOND EPISTLE TO DAVIE,
+
+A BROTHER POET.
+
+[David Sillar, to whom these epistles are addressed, was at that time
+master of a country school, and was welcome to Burns both as a scholar
+and a writer of verse. This epistle he prefixed to his poems printed
+at Kilmarnock in the year 1789: he loved to speak of his early
+comrade, and supplied Walker with some very valuable anecdotes: he
+died one of the magistrates of Irvine, on the 2d of May, 1830, at the
+age of seventy.]
+
+
+    AULD NIBOR,
+    I'm three times doubly o'er your debtor,
+    For your auld-farrent, frien'ly letter;
+    Tho' I maun say't, I doubt ye flatter,
+                          Ye speak sae fair.
+    For my puir, silly, rhymin clatter
+                          Some less maun sair.
+
+    Hale be your heart, hale be your fiddle;
+    Lang may your elbuck jink and diddle,
+    To cheer you thro' the weary widdle
+                          O' war'ly cares,
+    Till bairn's bairns kindly cuddle
+                          Your auld, gray hairs.
+
+    But Davie, lad, I'm red ye're glaikit;
+    I'm tauld the Muse ye hae negleckit;
+    An' gif it's sae, ye sud be licket
+                          Until yo fyke;
+    Sic hauns as you sud ne'er be faiket,
+                          Be hain't who like.
+
+    For me, I'm on Parnassus' brink,
+    Rivin' the words to gar them clink;
+    Whyles daez't wi' love, whyles daez't wi' drink,
+                          Wi' jads or masons;
+    An' whyles, but ay owre late, I think
+                          Braw sober lessons.
+
+    Of a' the thoughtless sons o' man,
+    Commen' me to the Bardie clan;
+    Except it be some idle plan
+                          O' rhymin' clink,
+    The devil-haet, that I sud ban,
+                          They ever think.
+
+    Nae thought, nae view, nae scheme o' livin',
+    Nae cares to gie us joy or grievin';
+    But just the pouchie put the nieve in,
+                          An' while ought's there,
+    Then hiltie skiltie, we gae scrievin',
+                          An' fash nae mair.
+
+    Leeze me on rhyme! it's aye a treasure,
+    My chief, amaist my only pleasure,
+    At hame, a-fiel', at work, or leisure,
+                          The Muse, poor hizzie!
+    Tho' rough an' raploch be her measure,
+                          She's seldom lazy.
+
+    Haud to the Muse, my dainty Davie:
+    The warl' may play you monie a shavie;
+    But for the Muse she'll never leave ye,
+                          Tho' e'er so puir,
+    Na, even tho' limpin' wi' the spavie
+                          Frae door to door.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+VI.
+
+ADDRESS TO THE DEIL
+
+    "O Prince! O Chief of many throned Pow'rs,
+    That led th' embattled Seraphim to war."
+
+MILTON
+
+[The beautiful and relenting spirit in which this fine poem finishes
+moved the heart on one of the coldest of our critics. "It was, I
+think," says Gilbert Burns, "in the winter of 1784, as we were going
+with carts for coals to the family fire, and I could yet point out the
+particular spot, that Robert first repeated to me the 'Address to the
+Deil.' The idea of the address was suggested to him by running over in
+his mind the many ludicrous accounts we have of that august
+personage."]
+
+
+    O thou! whatever title suit thee,
+    Auld Hornie, Satan, Kick, or Clootie,
+    Wha in yon cavern grim an' sootie,
+                      Closed under hatches,
+    Spairges about the brunstane cootie,
+                      To scaud poor wretches!
+
+    Hear me, auld Hangie, for a wee,
+    An' let poor damned bodies be;
+    I'm sure sma' pleasure it can gie,
+                      E'en to a deil,
+    To skelp an' scaud poor dogs like me,
+                      An' hear us squeel!
+
+    Great is thy pow'r, an' great thy fame;
+    Far kend an' noted is thy name;
+    An' tho' yon lowin heugh's thy hame,
+                      Thou travels far;
+    An', faith! thou's neither lag nor lame,
+                      Nor blate nor scaur.
+
+    Whyles, ranging like a roaring lion,
+    For prey, a' holes an' corners tryin;
+    Whyles, on the strong-winged tempest flyin,
+                      Tirlin the kirks;
+    Whiles, in the human bosom pryin,
+                      Unseen thou lurks.
+
+    I've heard my reverend Graunie say,
+    In lanely glens ye like to stray;
+    Or where auld-ruin'd castles, gray,
+                      Nod to the moon,
+    Ye fright the nightly wand'rer's way
+                      Wi' eldricht croon.
+
+    When twilight did my Graunie summon,
+    To say her prayers, douce, honest woman!
+    Aft yont the dyke she's heard you bummin,
+                      Wi' eerie drone;
+    Or, rustlin, thro' the boortries comin,
+                      Wi' heavy groan.
+
+    Ae dreary, windy, winter night,
+    The stars shot down wi' sklentin light,
+    Wi' you, mysel, I gat a fright
+                      Ayont the lough;
+    Ye, like a rash-buss, stood in sight,
+                      Wi' waving sough.
+
+    The cudgel in my nieve did shake.
+    Each bristl'd hair stood like a stake,
+    When wi' an eldritch, stoor quaick--quaick--
+                      Amang the springs,
+    Awa ye squatter'd, like a drake,
+                      On whistling wings.
+
+    Let warlocks grim, an' wither'd hags,
+    Tell how wi' you, on rag weed nags,
+    They skim the muirs an' dizzy crags
+                      Wi' wicked speed;
+    And in kirk-yards renew their leagues
+                      Owre howkit dead.
+
+    Thence countra wives, wi' toil an' pain,
+    May plunge an' plunge the kirn in vain:
+    For, oh! the yellow treasure's taen
+                      By witching skill;
+    An' dawtit, twal-pint hawkie's gaen
+                      As yell's the bill.
+
+    Thence mystic knots mak great abuse
+    On young guidmen, fond, keen, an' crouse;
+    When the best wark-lume i' the house
+                      By cantrip wit,
+    Is instant made no worth a louse,
+                      Just at the bit,
+
+    When thowes dissolve the snawy hoord,
+    An' float the jinglin icy-boord,
+    Then water-kelpies haunt the foord,
+                      By your direction;
+    An' nighted trav'llers are allur'd
+                      To their destruction.
+
+    An' aft your moss-traversing spunkies
+    Decoy the wight that late an' drunk is,
+    The bleezin, curst, mischievous monkeys
+                      Delude his eyes,
+    Till in some miry slough he sunk is,
+                      Ne'er mair to rise.
+
+    When masons' mystic word an' grip
+    In storms an' tempests raise you up,
+    Some cock or cat your rage maun stop,
+                      Or, strange to tell!
+    The youngest brother ye wad whip
+                      Aff straught to hell!
+
+    Lang syne, in Eden's bonie yard,
+    When youthfu' lovers first were pair'd,
+    An' all the soul of love they shar'd,
+                      The raptur'd hour,
+    Sweet on the fragrant, flow'ry sward,
+                      In shady bow'r:
+
+    Then you, ye auld, snick-drawing dog!
+    Ye came to Paradise incog.
+    An' play'd on man a cursed brogue,
+                      (Black be your fa'!)
+    An' gied the infant world a shog,
+                      'Maist ruin'd a'.
+
+    D'ye mind that day, when in a bizz,
+    Wi' reekit duds, an' reestit gizz,
+    Ye did present your smoutie phiz
+                      'Mang better folk,
+    An' sklented on the man of Uzz
+                      Your spitefu' joke?
+
+    An' how ye gat him i' your thrall,
+    An' brak him out o' house an' hall,
+    While scabs an' botches did him gall,
+                      Wi' bitter claw,
+    An' lows'd his ill tongu'd, wicked scawl,
+                      Was warst ava?
+
+    But a' your doings to rehearse,
+    Your wily snares an' fechtin fierce,
+    Sin' that day Michael did you pierce,
+                      Down to this time,
+    Wad ding a' Lallan tongue, or Erse,
+                      In prose or rhyme.
+
+    An' now, auld Cloots, I ken ye're thinkin,
+    A certain Bardie's rantin, drinkin,
+    Some luckless hour will send him linkin
+                     To your black pit;
+    But, faith! he'll turn a corner jinkin,
+                     An' cheat you yet.
+
+    But fare ye well, auld Nickie-ben!
+    O wad ye tak a thought an' men'!
+    Ye aiblins might--I dinna ken--
+                     Still hae a stake--
+    I'm wae to think upo' yon den
+                     Ev'n for your sake!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "AULD MARE MAGGIE."]
+
+VII.
+
+THE AULD FARMER'S
+
+NEW-YEAR MORNING SALUTATION TO HIS
+
+AULD MARE MAGGIE,
+
+ON GIVING HER THE ACCUSTOMED RIPP OF CORN TO HANSEL IN THE NEW YEAR
+
+["Whenever Burns has occasion," says Hogg, "to address or mention any
+subordinate being, however mean, even a mouse or a flower, then there
+is a gentle pathos in it that awakens the finest feelings of the
+heart." The Auld Farmer of Kyle has the spirit of knight-errant, and
+loves his mare according to the rules of chivalry; and well he might:
+she carried him safely home from markets, triumphantly from
+wedding-brooses; she ploughed the stiffest land; faced the steepest
+brae, and, moreover, bore home his bonnie bride with a consciousness
+of the loveliness of the load.]
+
+
+    A guid New-year I wish thee, Maggie!
+    Hae, there's a rip to thy auld baggie:
+    Tho' thou's howe-backit, now, an' knaggie,
+                      I've seen the day
+    Thou could hae gaen like onie staggie
+                      Out-owre the lay.
+
+    Tho' now thou's dowie, stiff, an' crazy,
+    An' thy auld hide as white's a daisy,
+    I've seen thee dappl't, sleek, and glaizie,
+                      A bonny gray:
+    He should been tight that daur't to raize thee,
+                      Ance in a day.
+
+    Thou ance was i' the foremost rank,
+    A filly, buirdly, steeve, an' swank,
+    An set weel down a shapely shank,
+                      As e'er tread yird;
+    An' could hae flown out-owre a stank,
+                      Like ony bird.
+
+    It's now some nine-an'-twenty year,
+    Sin' thou was my guid-father's Meere;
+    He gied me thee, o' tocher clear,
+                      An' fifty mark;
+    Tho' it was sma', 'twas weel-won gear,
+                      An' thou was stark.
+
+    When first I gaed to woo my Jenny,
+    Ye then was trottin wi' your minnie:
+    Tho' ye was trickle, slee, an' funny,
+                      Ye ne'er was donsie:
+    But hamely, tawie, quiet an' cannie,
+                      An' unco sonsie.
+
+    That day ye pranc'd wi' muckle pride,
+    When ye bure hame my bonnie bride:
+    An' sweet an' gracefu' she did ride,
+                      Wi' maiden air!
+    Kyle-Stewart I could bragged wide,
+                      For sic a pair.
+
+    Tho' now ye dow but hoyte and hoble,
+    An' wintle like a saumont-coble,
+    That day, ye was a jinker noble,
+                      For heels an' win'!
+    An' ran them till they a' did wauble,
+                      Far, far, behin'!
+
+    When thou an' I were young an' skeigh,
+    An' stable-meals at fairs were dreigh,
+    How thou wad prance, an' snore, an' skreigh,
+                      An' tak the road!
+    Town's bodies ran, an' stood abeigh,
+                      An' ca't thee mad.
+
+    When thou was corn't, an' I was mellow,
+    We took the road ay like a swallow:
+    At Brooses thou had ne'er a fellow,
+                      For pith an' speed;
+    But every tail thou pay't them hollow,
+                      Where'er thou gaed.
+
+    The sma', droop-rumpl't, hunter cattle,
+    Might aiblins waur't thee for a brattle;
+    But sax Scotch miles thou try't their mettle,
+                      An' gar't them whaizle:
+    Nae whip nor spur, but just a whattle
+                      O' saugh or hazle.
+
+    Thou was a noble fittie-lan',
+    As e'er in tug or tow was drawn:
+    Aft thee an' I, in aught hours gaun,
+                      In guid March-weather,
+    Hae turn'd sax rood beside our han'
+                      For days thegither.
+
+    Thou never braindg't, an' fetch't, an' fliskit,
+    But thy auld tail thou wad hae whiskit,
+    An' spread abreed thy weel-fill'd brisket,
+                      Wi' pith an' pow'r,
+    'Till spiritty knowes wad rair't and risket,
+                      An' slypet owre.
+
+    When frosts lay lang, an' snaws were deep,
+    An' threaten'd labour back to keep,
+    I gied thy cog a wee-bit heap
+                      Aboon the timmer;
+    I ken'd my Maggie wad na sleep
+                      For that, or simmer.
+
+    In cart or car thou never reestit;
+    The steyest brae thou wad hae fac't it;
+    Thou never lap, an' sten't, an' breastit,
+                      Then stood to blaw;
+    But just thy step a wee thing hastit,
+                      Thou snoov't awa.
+
+    My pleugh is now thy bairntime a';
+    Four gallant brutes as e'er did draw;
+    Forbye sax mae, I've sell't awa,
+                      That thou hast nurst:
+    They drew me thretteen pund an' twa,
+                      The vera worst.
+
+    Monie a sair daurk we twa hae wrought,
+    An, wi' the weary warl' fought!
+    An' monie an anxious day, I thought
+                      We wad be beat!
+    Yet here to crazy age we're brought,
+                      Wi' something yet.
+
+    And think na, my auld, trusty servan',
+    That now perhaps thou's less deservin,
+    An' thy auld days may end in starvin,
+                      For my last fow,
+    A heapit stimpart, I'll reserve ane
+                      Laid by for you.
+
+    We've worn to crazy years thegither;
+    We'll toyte about wi' ane anither;
+    Wi' tentie care I'll flit thy tether,
+                      To some hain'd rig,
+    Whare ye may nobly rax your leather,
+                      Wi' sma' fatigue.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+VIII.
+
+TO A HAGGIS.
+
+[The vehement nationality of this poem is but a small part of its
+merit. The haggis of the north is the minced pie of the south; both
+are characteristic of the people: the ingredients which compose the
+former are all of Scottish growth, including the bag which contains
+them; the ingredients of the latter are gathered chiefly from the four
+quarters of the globe: the haggis is the triumph of poverty, the
+minced pie the triumph of wealth.]
+
+
+    Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,
+    Great chieftain o' the pudding-race!
+    Aboon them a' ye tak your place,
+                      Painch, tripe, or thairm:
+    Weel are ye wordy o' a grace
+                      As lang's my arm.
+
+    The groaning trencher there ye fill,
+    Your hurdies like a distant hill,
+    Your pin wad help to mend a mill
+                      In time o' need,
+    While thro' your pores the dews distil
+                      Like amber bead.
+
+    His knife see rustic-labour dight,
+    An' cut you up wi' ready slight,
+    Trenching your gushing entrails bright
+                      Like onie ditch;
+    And then, O what a glorious sight,
+                      Warm-reekin, rich!
+
+    Then horn for horn they stretch an' strive,
+    Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive,
+    'Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve
+                      Are bent like drums;
+    Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive,
+                      Bethankit hums.
+
+    Is there that o'er his French ragout,
+    Or olio that wad staw a sow,
+    Or fricassee wad mak her spew
+                      Wi' perfect sconner,
+    Looks down wi' sneering, scornfu' view
+                      On sic a dinner?
+
+    Poor devil! see him owre his trash,
+    As feckless as a wither'd rash,
+    His spindle shank a guid whip-lash,
+                      His nieve a nit;
+    Thro' bloody flood or field to dash,
+                      O how unfit!
+
+    But mark the rustic, haggis-fed,
+    The trembling earth resounds his tread,
+    Clap in his walie nieve a blade,
+                      He'll mak it whissle;
+    An' legs, an' arms, an' heads will sned,
+                      Like taps o' thrissle.
+
+    Ye pow'rs wha mak mankind your care,
+    And dish them out their bill o' fare,
+    Auld Scotland wants nae stinking ware
+                      That jaups in luggies;
+    But, if ye wish her gratefu' pray'r,
+                      Gie her a Haggis!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+IX.
+
+A PRAYER,
+
+UNDER THE PRESSURE OF VIOLENT ANGUISH.
+
+["There was a certain period of my life," says Burns, "that my spirit
+was broke by repeated losses and disasters, which threatened and
+indeed effected the ruin of my fortune. My body, too, was attacked by
+the most dreadful distemper, a hypochondria or confirmed melancholy.
+In this wretched state, the recollection of which makes me yet
+shudder, I hung my harp on the willow-trees, except in some lucid
+intervals, in one of which I composed the following."]
+
+
+    O Thou Great Being! what Thou art
+      Surpasses me to know;
+    Yet sure I am, that known to Thee
+      Are all Thy works below.
+
+    Thy creature here before Thee stands,
+      All wretched and distrest;
+    Yet sure those ills that wring my soul
+      Obey Thy high behest.
+
+    Sure Thou, Almighty, canst not act
+      From cruelty or wrath!
+    O, free my weary eyes from tears,
+      Or close them fast in death!
+
+    But if I must afflicted be,
+      To suit some wise design;
+    Then, man my soul with firm resolves
+      To bear and not repine!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+X.
+
+A PRAYER
+
+IN THE PROSPECT OF DEATH.
+
+[I have heard the third verse of this very moving Prayer quoted by
+scrupulous men as a proof that the poet imputed his errors to the
+Being who had endowed him with wild and unruly passions. The meaning
+is very different: Burns felt the torrent-strength of passion
+overpowering his resolution, and trusted that God would be merciful to
+the errors of one on whom he had bestowed such o'ermastering gifts.]
+
+
+    O Thou unknown, Almighty Cause
+      Of all my hope and fear?
+    In whose dread presence, ere an hour
+      Perhaps I must appear!
+
+    If I have wander'd in those paths
+      Of life I ought to shun;
+    As something, loudly, in my breast,
+      Remonstrates I have done;
+
+    Thou know'st that Thou hast formed me,
+      With passions wild and strong;
+    And list'ning to their witching voice
+      Has often led me wrong.
+
+    Where human weakness has come short,
+      Or frailty stept aside,
+    Do Thou, All-Good! for such thou art,
+      In shades of darkness hide.
+
+    Where with intention I have err'd,
+      No other plea I have,
+    But, Thou art good; and goodness still
+      Delighteth to forgive.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XI.
+
+STANZAS
+
+ON THE SAME OCCASION.
+
+[These verses the poet, in his common-place book, calls "Misgivings in
+the Hour of Despondency and Prospect of Death." He elsewhere says they
+were composed when fainting-fits and other alarming symptoms of a
+pleurisy, or some other dangerous disorder, first put nature on the
+alarm.]
+
+
+    Why am I loth to leave this earthly scene?
+      How I so found it full of pleasing charms?
+    Some drops of joy with draughts of ill between:
+      Some gleams of sunshine 'mid renewing storms:
+    Is it departing pangs my soul alarms?
+      Or Death's unlovely, dreary, dark abode?
+    For guilt, for guilt, my terrors are in arms;
+      I tremble to approach an angry God,
+    And justly smart beneath his sin-avenging rod.
+
+    Fain would I say, "Forgive my foul offence!"
+      Fain promise never more to disobey;
+    But, should my Author health again dispense,
+      Again I might desert fair virtue's way:
+    Again in folly's path might go astray;
+      Again exalt the brute and sink the man;
+    Then how should I for heavenly mercy pray,
+      Who act so counter heavenly mercy's plan?
+    Who sin so oft have mourn'd, yet to temptation ran?
+
+    O Thou, great Governor of all below!
+      If I may dare a lifted eye to Thee,
+    Thy nod can make the tempest cease to blow,
+      Or still the tumult of the raging sea:
+    With that controlling pow'r assist ev'n me
+      Those headlong furious passions to confine;
+    For all unfit I feel my pow'rs to be,
+      To rule their torrent in th' allowed line;
+    O, aid me with Thy help, Omnipotence Divine!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XII.
+
+A WINTER NIGHT.
+
+    "Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are
+    That bide the pelting of the pitiless storm!
+    How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides,
+    Your looped and widow'd raggedness defend you
+    From seasons such as these?"
+
+SHAKSPEARE.
+
+["This poem," says my friend Thomas Carlyle, "is worth several
+homilies on mercy, for it is the voice of Mercy herself. Burns,
+indeed, lives in sympathy: his soul rushes forth into all the realms
+of being: nothing that has existence can be indifferent to him."]
+
+
+    When biting Boreas, fell and doure,
+    Sharp shivers thro' the leafless bow'r;
+    When Phoebus gies a short-liv'd glow'r
+                      Far south the lift,
+    Dim-darkening through the flaky show'r,
+                      Or whirling drift:
+
+    Ae night the storm the steeples rocked,
+    Poor labour sweet in sleep was locked,
+    While burns, wi' snawy wreeths up-choked,
+                      Wild-eddying swirl.
+    Or through the mining outlet bocked,
+                      Down headlong hurl.
+
+    Listening, the doors an' winnocks rattle,
+    I thought me on the ourie cattle,
+    Or silly sheep, wha bide this brattle
+                      O' winter war,
+    And through the drift, deep-lairing sprattle
+                      Beneath a scar.
+
+    Ilk happing bird, wee, helpless thing,
+    That, in the merry months o' spring,
+    Delighted me to hear thee sing,
+                      What comes o' thee?
+    Whare wilt thou cower thy chittering wing,
+                      An' close thy e'e?
+
+    Ev'n you on murd'ring errands toil'd,
+    Lone from your savage homes exiled,
+    The blood-stained roost, and sheep-cote spoiled
+                      My heart forgets,
+    While pitiless the tempest wild
+                      Sore on you beats.
+
+    Now Phoebe, in her midnight reign,
+    Dark muffled, viewed the dreary plain;
+    Still crowding thoughts, a pensive train,
+                      Rose in my soul,
+    When on my ear this plaintive strain
+                      Slow, solemn, stole:--
+
+      "Blow, blow, ye winds, with heavier gust!
+      And freeze, thou bitter-biting frost:
+      Descend, ye chilly, smothering snows!
+      Not all your rage, as now united, shows
+        More hard unkindness, unrelenting,
+        Vengeful malice unrepenting,
+    Than heaven-illumined man on brother man bestows;
+      See stern oppression's iron grip,
+        Or mad ambition's gory hand,
+    Sending, like blood-hounds from the slip,
+       Woe, want, and murder o'er a land!
+      Even in the peaceful rural vale,
+      Truth, weeping, tells the mournful tale,
+    How pamper'd luxury, flattery by her side,
+      The parasite empoisoning her ear.
+      With all the servile wretches in the rear,
+    Looks o'er proud property, extended wide;
+      And eyes the simple rustic hind,
+        Whose toil upholds the glittering show,
+      A creature of another kind,
+      Some coarser substance, unrefin'd,
+    Placed for her lordly use thus far, thus vile, below.
+      Where, where is love's fond, tender throe,
+      With lordly honour's lofty brow,
+        The powers you proudly own?
+      Is there, beneath love's noble name,
+      Can harbour, dark, the selfish aim,
+        To bless himself alone!
+      Mark maiden innocence a prey
+        To love-pretending snares,
+      This boasted honour turns away,
+      Shunning soft pity's rising sway,
+    Regardless of the tears and unavailing prayers!
+      Perhaps this hour, in misery's squalid nest,
+      She strains your infant to her joyless breast,
+    And with a mother's fears shrinks at the rocking blast!
+      Oh ye! who, sunk in beds of down,
+    Feel not a want but what yourselves create,
+    Think, for a moment, on his wretched fate,
+      Whom friends and fortune quite disown!
+    Ill satisfied keen nature's clamorous call,
+      Stretched on his straw he lays himself to sleep,
+    While through the ragged roof and chinky wall,
+      Chill o'er his slumbers piles the drifty heap!
+        Think on the dungeon's grim confine,
+        Where guilt and poor misfortune pine!
+        Guilt, erring man, relenting view!
+        But shall thy legal rage pursue
+        The wretch, already crushed low
+        By cruel fortune's undeserved blow?
+      Affliction's sons are brothers in distress,
+      A brother to relieve, how exquisite the bliss!"
+
+      I heard nae mair, for Chanticleer
+        Shook off the pouthery snaw,
+      And hailed the morning with a cheer--
+        A cottage-rousing craw!
+
+      But deep this truth impressed my mind--
+        Through all his works abroad,
+      The heart benevolent and kind
+        The most resembles GOD.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XIII.
+
+REMORSE.
+
+A FRAGMENT.
+
+["I entirely agree," says Burns, "with the author of the _Theory of
+Moral Sentiments_, that Remorse is the most painful sentiment that can
+embitter the human bosom; an ordinary pitch of fortitude may bear up
+admirably well, under those calamities, in the procurement of which we
+ourselves have had no hand; but when our follies or crimes have made
+us wretched, to bear all with manly firmness, and at the same time
+have a proper penitential sense of our misconduct, is a glorious
+effort of self-command."]
+
+
+    Of all the numerous ills that hurt our peace,
+    That press the soul, or wring the mind with anguish,
+    Beyond comparison the worst are those
+    That to our folly or our guilt we owe.
+    In every other circumstance, the mind
+    Has this to say, 'It was no deed of mine;'
+    But when to all the evil of misfortune
+    This sting is added--'Blame thy foolish self!'
+    Or worser far, the pangs of keen remorse;
+    The torturing, gnawing consciousness of guilt,--
+    Of guilt, perhaps, where we've involved others;
+    The young, the innocent, who fondly lov'd us,
+    Nay, more, that very love their cause of ruin!
+    O burning hell! in all thy store of torments,
+    There's not a keener lash!
+    Lives there a man so firm, who, while his heart
+    Feels all the bitter horrors of his crime,
+    Can reason down its agonizing throbs;
+    And, after proper purpose of amendment,
+    Can firmly force his jarring thoughts to peace?
+    O, happy! happy! enviable man!
+    O glorious magnanimity of soul!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XIV.
+
+THE JOLLY BEGGARS.
+
+A CANTATA.
+
+[This inimitable poem, unknown to Currie and unheardof while the poet
+lived, was first given to the world, with other characteristic pieces,
+by Mr. Stewart of Glasgow, in the year 1801. Some have surmised that
+it is not the work of Burns; but the parentage is certain: the
+original manuscript at the time of its composition, in 1785, was put
+into the hands of Mr. Richmond of Mauchline, and afterwards given by
+Burns himself to Mr. Woodburn, factor of the laird of Craigen-gillan;
+the song of "For a' that, and a' that" was inserted by the poet, with
+his name, in the _Musical Museum_ of February, 1790. Cromek admired,
+yet did not, from overruling advice, print it in the _Reliques_, for
+which he was sharply censured by Sir Walter Scott, in the _Quarterly
+Review._ The scene of the poem is in Mauchline, where Poosie Nancy had
+her change-house. Only one copy in the handwriting of Burns is
+supposed to exist; and of it a very accurate fac-simile has been
+given.]
+
+
+RECITATIVO.
+
+    When lyart leaves bestrow the yird,
+    Or wavering like the bauckie-bird,
+        Bedim cauld Boreas' blast;
+    When hailstanes drive wi' bitter skyte
+    And infant frosts begin to bite,
+          In hoary cranreuch drest;
+    Ae night at e'en a merry core
+        O' randie, gangrel bodies,
+    In Poosie-Nansie's held the splore,
+        To drink their orra duddies:
+          Wi' quaffing and laughing,
+            They ranted an' they sang;
+          Wi' jumping and thumping,
+            The vera girdle rang.
+
+    First, neist the fire, in auld red rags,
+    Ane sat, weel brac'd wi' mealy bags,
+        And knapsack a' in order;
+    His doxy lay within his arm,
+    Wi' usquebae an' blankets warm--
+          She blinket on her sodger:
+    An' ay he gies the tozie drab
+        The tither skelpin' kiss,
+    While she held up her greedy gab
+        Just like an aumous dish.
+          Ilk smack still, did crack still,
+            Just like a cadger's whip,
+          Then staggering and swaggering
+            He roar'd this ditty up--
+
+AIR.
+
+Tune--"_Soldiers' Joy._"
+
+    I am a son of Mars,
+    Who have been in many wars,
+    And show my cuts and scars
+          Wherever I come;
+    This here was for a wench,
+    And that other in a trench,
+    When welcoming the French
+          At the sound of the drum.
+                    Lal de daudle, &c.
+
+    My 'prenticeship I past
+    Where my leader breath'd his last,
+    When the bloody die was cast
+          On the heights of Abram;
+    I served out my trade
+    When the gallant game was play'd,
+    And the Moro low was laid
+          At the sound of the drum.
+                    Lal de daudle, &c.
+
+    I lastly was with Curtis,
+    Among the floating batt'ries,
+    And there I left for witness
+          An arm and a limb;
+    Yet let my country need me,
+    With Elliot to head me,
+    I'd clatter on my stumps
+          At the sound of a drum.
+                    Lal de dandle, &c.
+
+    And now tho' I must beg,
+    With a wooden arm and leg,
+    And many a tatter'd rag
+          Hanging over my bum
+    I'm as happy with my wallet,
+    My bottle and my callet,
+    As when I used in scarlet
+          To follow a drum.
+                    Lal de daudle, &c.
+
+    What tho' with hoary locks
+    I must stand the winter shocks,
+    Beneath the woods and rocks
+          Oftentimes for a home,
+    When the tother bag I sell,
+    And the tother bottle tell,
+    I could meet a troop of hell,
+          At the sound of a drum.
+                    Lal de daudle, &c.
+
+RECITATIVO.
+
+    He ended; and kebars sheuk
+      Aboon the chorus roar;
+    While frighted rattons backward leuk,
+      And seek the benmost bore;
+    A fairy fiddler frae the neuk,
+      He skirl'd out--encore!
+    But up arose the martial Chuck,
+      And laid the loud uproar.
+
+AIR.
+
+Tune--"_Soldier laddie._"
+
+    I once was a maid, tho' I cannot tell when,
+    And still my delight is in proper young men;
+    Some one of a troop of dragoons was my daddie,
+    No wonder I'm fond of a sodger laddie.
+                        Sing, Lal de dal, &c.
+
+    The first of my loves was a swaggering blade,
+    To rattle the thundering drum was his trade;
+    His leg was so tight, and his cheek was so ruddy,
+    Transported I was with my sodger laddie.
+                        Sing, Lal de dal, &c.
+
+    But the godly old chaplain left him in the lurch,
+    The sword I forsook for the sake of the church;
+    He ventur'd the soul, and I risk'd the body,
+    'Twas then I prov'd false to my sodger laddie.
+                        Sing, Lal de dal, &c.
+
+    Full soon I grew sick of my sanctified sot,
+    The regiment at large for a husband I got;
+    From the gilded spontoon to the fife I was ready,
+    I asked no more but a sodger laddie.
+                        Sing, Lal de dal, &c.
+
+    But the peace it reduc'd me to beg in despair,
+    Till I met my old boy in a Cunningham fair;
+    His rags regimental they flutter'd so gaudy,
+    My heart is rejoic'd at my sodger laddie.
+                        Sing, Lal de dal, &c.
+
+    And now I have liv'd--I know not how long,
+    And still I can join in a cup or a song;
+    But whilst with both hands I can hold the glass steady,
+    Here's to thee, my hero, my sodger laddie.
+                        Sing, Lal de dal, &c.
+
+RECITATIVO.
+
+    Poor Merry Andrew in the neuk,
+      Sat guzzling wi' a tinkler hizzie;
+    They mind't na wha the chorus teuk,
+      Between themselves they were sae busy:
+    At length wi' drink and courting dizzy
+      He stoitered up an' made a face;
+    Then turn'd, an' laid a smack on Grizzie,
+      Syne tun'd his pipes wi' grave grimace.
+
+AIR.
+
+Tune--"_Auld Sir Symon._"
+
+    Sir Wisdom's a fool when he's fou,
+      Sir Knave is a fool in a session;
+    He's there but a 'prentice I trow,
+      But I am a fool by profession.
+
+    My grannie she bought me a beuk,
+      And I held awa to the school;
+    I fear I my talent misteuk,
+      But what will ye hae of a fool?
+
+    For drink I would venture my neck,
+      A hizzie's the half o' my craft,
+    But what could ye other expect,
+      Of ane that's avowedly daft?
+
+    I ance was ty'd up like a stirk,
+      For civilly swearing and quaffing;
+    I ance was abused in the kirk,
+      Fer touzling a lass i' my daffin.
+
+    Poor Andrew that tumbles for sport,
+      Let naebody name wi' a jeer;
+    There's ev'n I'm tauld i' the court
+      A tumbler ca'd the premier.
+
+    Observ'd ye, yon reverend lad
+      Maks faces to tickle the mob;
+    He rails at our mountebank squad,
+      Its rivalship just i' the job.
+
+    And now my conclusion I'll tell,
+      For faith I'm confoundedly dry;
+    The chiel that's a fool for himsel',
+      Gude L--d! he's far dafter than I.
+
+RECITATIVO.
+
+    Then neist outspak a raucle carlin,
+    Wha kent fu' weel to cleek the sterling,
+    For monie a pursie she had hooked,
+    And had in mony a well been ducked.
+    Her dove had been a Highland laddie,
+    But weary fa' the waefu' woodie!
+    Wi' sighs and sobs she thus began
+    To wail her braw John Highlandman.
+
+AIR.
+
+Tune--"_O an ye were dead, guidman._"
+
+    A Highland lad my love was born,
+    The Lalland laws he held in scorn;
+    But he still was faithfu' to his clan,
+    My gallant braw John Highlandman.
+
+CHORUS.
+
+    Sing, hey my braw John Highlandman!
+    Sing, ho my braw John Highlandman!
+    There's not a lad in a' the lan'
+    Was match for my John Highlandman.
+
+    With his philibeg an' tartan plaid,
+    An' gude claymore down by his side,
+    The ladies' hearts he did trepan,
+    My gallant braw John Highlandman.
+                      Sing, hey, &c.
+
+    We ranged a' from Tweed to Spey,
+    An' liv'd like lords and ladies gay;
+    For a Lalland face he feared none,
+    My gallant braw John Highlandman.
+                      Sing, hey, &c.
+
+    They banished him beyond the sea,
+    But ere the bud was on the tree,
+    Adown my cheeks the pearls ran,
+    Embracing my John Highlandman.
+                      Sing, hey, &c.
+
+    But, och! they catch'd him at the last,
+    And bound him in a dungeon fast;
+    My curse upon them every one,
+    They've hang'd my braw John Highlandman.
+                      Sing, hey, &c.
+
+    And now a widow, I must mourn,
+    The pleasures that will ne'er return:
+    No comfort but a hearty can,
+    When I think on John Highlandman.
+                      Sing, hey, &c.
+
+RECITATIVO.
+
+    A pigmy scraper, wi' his fiddle,
+    Wha us'd at trysts and fairs to driddle,
+    Her strappan limb and gausy middle
+                      He reach'd na higher,
+    Had hol'd his heartie like a riddle,
+                      An' blawn't on fire.
+
+    Wi' hand on hainch, an' upward e'e,
+    He croon'd his gamut, one, two, three,
+    Then in an Arioso key,
+                      The wee Apollo
+    Set off wi' Allegretto glee
+                      His giga solo.
+
+AIR.
+
+Tune--"_Whistle o'er the lave o't._"
+
+    Let me ryke up to dight that tear,
+    And go wi' me and be my dear,
+    And then your every care and fear
+      May whistle owre the lave o't.
+
+CHORUS.
+
+    I am a fiddler to my trade,
+    An' a' the tunes that e'er I play'd,
+    The sweetest still to wife or maid,
+      Was whistle owre the lave o't.
+
+    At kirns and weddings we'se be there,
+    And O! sae nicely's we will fare;
+    We'll house about till Daddie Care
+      Sings whistle owre the lave o't
+                            I am, &c.
+
+    Sae merrily the banes we'll byke,
+    And sun oursells about the dyke,
+    And at our leisure, when ye like,
+      We'll whistle owre the lave o't.
+                            I am, &c.
+
+    But bless me wi' your heav'n o' charms,
+    And while I kittle hair on thairms,
+    Hunger, cauld, and a' sic harms,
+      May whistle owre the lave o't.
+                            I am, &c.
+
+RECITATIVO.
+
+    Her charms had struck a sturdy caird,
+      As weel as poor gut-scraper;
+    He taks the fiddler by the beard,
+      And draws a roosty rapier--
+    He swoor by a' was swearing worth,
+      To speet him like a pliver,
+    Unless he wad from that time forth
+      Relinquish her for ever.
+
+    Wi' ghastly e'e, poor tweedle-dee
+      Upon his hunkers bended,
+    And pray'd for grace wi' ruefu' face,
+      And sae the quarrel ended.
+    But tho' his little heart did grieve
+      When round the tinkler prest her,
+    He feign'd to snirtle in his sleeve,
+      When thus the caird address'd her:
+
+AIR.
+
+Tune--"_Clout the Caudron._"
+
+    My bonny lass, I work in brass,
+      A tinkler is my station:
+    I've travell'd round all Christian ground
+      In this my occupation:
+    I've taen the gold, an' been enrolled
+      In many a noble sqadron:
+    But vain they search'd, when off I march'd
+      To go and clout the caudron.
+                        I've taen the gold, &c.
+
+    Despise that shrimp, that wither'd imp,
+      Wi' a' his noise and caprin,
+    And tak a share wi' those that bear
+      The budget and the apron.
+    And by that stoup, my faith and houp,
+      An' by that dear Kilbaigie,[5]
+    If e'er ye want, or meet wi' scant,
+      May I ne'er weet my craigie.
+                        An' by that stoup, &c.
+
+RECITATIVO.
+
+    The caird prevail'd--th' unblushing fair
+      In his embraces sunk,
+    Partly wi' love o'ercome sae sair,
+      An' partly she was drunk.
+    Sir Violino, with an air
+      That show'd a man of spunk,
+    Wish'd unison between the pair,
+      An' made the bottle clunk
+                      To their health that night.
+
+    But urchin Cupid shot a shaft,
+      That play'd a dame a shavie,
+    A sailor rak'd her fore and aft,
+      Behint the chicken cavie.
+    Her lord, a wight o' Homer's craft,
+      Tho' limping wi' the spavie,
+    He hirpl'd up and lap like daft,
+      And shor'd them Dainty Davie
+                      O boot that night.
+
+    He was a care-defying blade
+      As ever Bacchus listed,
+    Tho' Fortune sair upon him laid,
+      His heart she ever miss'd it.
+    He had nae wish but--to be glad,
+      Nor want but--when he thirsted;
+    He hated nought but--to be sad,
+      And thus the Muse suggested
+                     His sang that night.
+
+AIR
+
+Tune--"_For a' that, an' a' that._"
+
+    I am a bard of no regard
+      Wi' gentle folks, an' a' that:
+    But Homer-like, the glowran byke,
+      Frae town to town I draw that.
+
+CHORUS
+
+    For a' that, an' a' that,
+      An' twice as muckle's a' that;
+    I've lost but ane, I've twa behin',
+      I've wife enough for a' that.
+
+    I never drank the Muses' stank,
+      Castalia's burn, an' a' that;
+    But there it streams, and richly reams,
+      My Helicon I ca' that.
+                          For a' that, &c.
+
+    Great love I bear to a' the fair,
+      Their humble slave, an' a' that;
+    But lordly will, I hold it still
+      A mortal sin to thraw that.
+                          For a' that, &c.
+
+    In raptures sweet, this hour we meet,
+      Wi' mutual love, an a' that:
+    But for how lang the flie may stang,
+      Let inclination law that.
+                          For a' that, &c.
+
+    Their tricks and craft have put me daft.
+      They've ta'en me in, and a' that;
+    But clear your decks, and here's the sex!
+      I like the jads for a' that
+
+CHORUS
+
+    For a' that, an' a' that,
+      An' twice as muckle's a' that;
+    My dearest bluid, to do them guid,
+      They're welcome till't for a' that
+
+RECITATIVO
+
+    So sung the bard--and Nansie's wa's
+    Shook with a thunder of applause,
+        Re-echo'd from each mouth:
+    They toom'd their pocks, an' pawn'd their duds,
+    They scarcely left to co'er their fuds,
+        To quench their lowan drouth.
+    Then owre again, the jovial thrang,
+        The poet did request,
+    To loose his pack an' wale a sang,
+        A ballad o' the best;
+          He rising, rejoicing,
+            Between his twa Deborahs
+          Looks round him, an' found them
+            Impatient for the chorus.
+
+AIR
+
+Tune--"_Jolly Mortals, fill your Glasses._"
+
+    See! the smoking bowl before us,
+      Mark our jovial ragged ring!
+    Round and round take up the chorus,
+      And in raptures let us sing.
+
+CHORUS.
+
+    A fig for those by law protected!
+      Liberty's a glorious feast!
+    Courts for cowards were erected,
+      Churches built to please the priest.
+
+    What is title? what is treasure?
+      What is reputation's care?
+    If we lead a life of pleasure,
+      'Tis no matter how or where!
+                      A fig, &c.
+
+    With the ready trick and fable,
+      Round we wander all the day;
+    And at night, in barn or stable,
+      Hug our doxies on the hay.
+                      A fig, &c.
+
+    Does the train-attended carriage
+      Through the country lighter rove?
+    Does the sober bed of marriage
+      Witness brighter scenes of love?
+                      A fig, &c.
+
+    Life is all a variorum,
+      We regard not how it goes;
+    Let them cant about decorum
+      Who have characters to lose.
+                      A fig, &c.
+
+    Here's to budgets, bags, and wallets!
+      Here's to all the wandering train!
+    Here's our ragged brats and wallets!
+      One and all cry out--Amen!
+
+      A fig for those by law protected!
+        Liberty's a glorious feast!
+      Courts for cowards were erected,
+        Churches built to please the priest.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 5: A peculiar sort of whiskey.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XV.
+
+DEATH AND DR. HORNBOOK.
+
+A TRUE STORY.
+
+[John Wilson, raised to the unwelcome elevation of hero to this poem,
+was, at the time of its composition, schoolmaster in Tarbolton: he as,
+it is said, a fair scholar, and a very worthy man, but vain of his
+knowledge in medicine--so vain, that he advertised his merits, and
+offered advice gratis. It was his misfortune to encounter Burns at a
+mason meeting, who, provoked by a long and pedantic speech, from the
+Dominie, exclaimed, the future lampoon dawning upon him, "Sit down,
+Dr. Hornbook." On his way home, the poet seated himself on the ledge
+of a bridge, composed the poem, and, overcome with poesie and drink,
+fell asleep, and did not awaken till the sun was shining over Galston
+Moors. Wilson went afterwards to Glasgow, embarked in mercantile and
+matrimonial speculations, and prospered, and is still prospering.]
+
+
+    Some books are lies frae end to end,
+    And some great lies were never penn'd:
+    Ev'n ministers, they ha'e been kenn'd,
+                        In holy rapture,
+    A rousing whid, at times, to vend,
+                        And nail't wi' Scripture.
+
+    But this that I am gaun to tell,
+    Which lately on a night befel,
+    Is just as true's the Deil's in h--ll
+                        Or Dublin-city;
+    That e'er he nearer comes oursel
+                        'S a muckle pity.
+
+    The Clachan yill had made me canty,
+    I was na fou, but just had plenty;
+    I stacher'd whyles, but yet took tent ay
+                        To free the ditches;
+    An' hillocks, stanes, and bushes, kenn'd ay
+                        Frae ghaists an' witches.
+
+    The rising moon began to glow'r
+    The distant Cumnock hills out-owre:
+    To count her horns with a' my pow'r,
+                        I set mysel;
+    But whether she had three or four,
+                        I could na tell.
+
+    I was come round about the hill,
+    And todlin down on Willie's mill,
+    Setting my staff with a' my skill,
+                        To keep me sicker;
+    Tho' leeward whyles, against my will,
+                        I took a bicker.
+
+    I there wi' something did forgather,
+    That put me in an eerie swither;
+    An awfu' scythe, out-owre ae shouther,
+                        Clear-dangling, hang;
+    A three-taed leister on the ither
+                        Lay, large an' lang.
+
+    Its stature seem'd lang Scotch ells twa,
+    The queerest shape that e'er I saw,
+    For fient a wame it had ava:
+                        And then, its shanks,
+    They were as thin, as sharp an' sma'
+                        As cheeks o' branks.
+
+    "Guid-een," quo' I; "Friend, hae ye been mawin,
+    When ither folk are busy sawin?"
+    It seem'd to mak a kind o' stan',
+                        But naething spak;
+    At length, says I, "Friend, where ye gaun,
+                        Will ye go back?"
+
+    It spak right howe,--"My name is Death,
+    But be na fley'd."--Quoth I, "Guid faith,
+    Ye're may be come to stap my breath;
+                        But tent me, billie;
+    I red ye weel, take care o' skaith,
+                        See, there's a gully!"
+
+    "Guidman," quo' he, "put up your whittle,
+    I'm no design'd to try its mettle;
+    But if I did, I wad be kittle
+                        To be mislear'd,
+    I wad nae mind it, no that spittle
+                        Out-owre my beard."
+
+    "Weel, weel!" says I, "a bargain be't;
+    Come, gies your hand, an' sae we're gree't;
+    We'll ease our shanks an' tak a seat,
+                        Come, gies your news!
+    This while ye hae been mony a gate
+                        At mony a house.
+
+    "Ay, ay!" quo' he, an' shook his head,
+    "It's e'en a lang, lang time indeed
+    Sin' I began to nick the thread,
+                        An' choke the breath:
+    Folk maun do something for their bread,
+                        An' sae maun Death.
+
+    "Sax thousand years are near hand fled
+    Sin' I was to the butching bred,
+    An' mony a scheme in vain's been laid,
+                        To stap or scar me;
+    Till ane Hornbook's ta'en up the trade,
+                        An' faith, he'll waur me.
+
+    "Ye ken Jock Hornbook i' the Clachan,
+    Deil mak his kings-hood in a spleuchan!
+    He's grown sae weel acquaint wi' Buchan[6]
+                        An' ither chaps,
+    The weans haud out their fingers laughin
+                        And pouk my hips.
+
+    "See, here's a scythe, and there's a dart,
+    They hae pierc'd mony a gallant heart;
+    But Doctor Hornbook, wi' his art
+                        And cursed skill,
+    Has made them baith no worth a f----t,
+                        Damn'd haet they'll kill.
+
+    "'Twas but yestreen, nae farther gaen,
+    I threw a noble throw at ane;
+    Wi' less, I'm sure, I've hundreds slain;
+                        But-deil-ma-care,
+    It just play'd dirl on the bane,
+                        But did nae mair.
+
+    "Hornbook was by, wi' ready art,
+    And had sae fortified the part,
+    That when I looked to my dart,
+                        It was sae blunt,
+    Fient haet o't wad hae pierc'd the heart
+                        Of a kail-runt.
+
+    "I drew my scythe in sic a fury,
+    I near-hand cowpit wi' my hurry,
+    But yet the bauld Apothecary,
+                        Withstood the shock;
+    I might as weel hae tried a quarry
+                        O' hard whin rock.
+
+    "Ev'n them he canna get attended,
+    Although their face he ne'er had kend it,
+    Just sh---- in a kail-blade, and send it,
+                        As soon's he smells't,
+    Baith their disease, and what will mend it,
+                        At once he tells't.
+
+    "And then a' doctor's saws and whittles,
+    Of a' dimensions, shapes, an' mettles,
+    A' kinds o' boxes, mugs, an' bottles,
+                        He's sure to hae;
+    Their Latin names as fast he rattles
+                        As A B C.
+
+    "Calces o' fossils, earths, and trees;
+    True sal-marinum o' the seas;
+    The farina of beans and pease,
+                        He has't in plenty;
+    Aqua-fortis, what you please,
+                        He can content ye.
+
+    "Forbye some new, uncommon weapons,
+    Urinus spiritus of capons;
+    Or mite-horn shavings, filings, scrapings,
+                        Distill'd _per se_;
+    Sal-alkali o' midge-tail clippings,
+                        And mony mae."
+
+    "Waes me for Johnny Ged's-Hole[7] now,"
+    Quo' I, "If that thae news be true!
+    His braw calf-ward whare gowans grew,
+                        Sae white and bonie,
+    Nae doubt they'll rive it wi' the plew;
+                        They'll ruin Johnie!"
+
+    The creature grain'd an eldritch laugh,
+    And says, "Ye need na yoke the plough,
+    Kirkyards will soon be till'd eneugh,
+                        Tak ye nae fear;
+    They'll a' be trench'd wi' mony a sheugh
+                        In twa-three year.
+
+    "Whare I kill'd ane a fair strae death,
+    By loss o' blood or want of breath,
+    This night I'm free to tak my aith,
+                        That Hornbook's skill
+    Has clad a score i' their last claith,
+                        By drap an' pill.
+
+    "An honest wabster to his trade,
+    Whase wife's twa nieves were scarce weel bred,
+    Gat tippence-worth to mend her head,
+                        When it was sair;
+    The wife slade cannie to her bed,
+                        But ne'er spak mair
+
+    "A countra laird had ta'en the batts,
+    Or some curmurring in his guts,
+    His only son for Hornbook sets,
+                        An' pays him well.
+    The lad, for twa guid gimmer-pets,
+                        Was laird himsel.
+
+    "A bonnie lass, ye kend her name,
+    Some ill-brewn drink had hov'd her wame;
+    She trusts hersel, to hide the shame,
+                        In Hornbook's care;
+    _Horn_ sent her aff to her lang hame,
+                        To hide it there.
+
+    "That's just a swatch o' Hornbook's way;
+    Thus goes he on from day to day,
+    Thus does he poison, kill, an' slay,
+                        An's weel paid for't;
+    Yet stops me o' my lawfu' prey,
+                        Wi' his d--mn'd dirt:
+
+    "But, hark! I'll tell you of a plot,
+    Though dinna ye be speaking o't;
+    I'll nail the self-conceited sot,
+                        As dead's a herrin':
+    Niest time we meet, I'll wad a groat,
+                        He gets his fairin'!"
+
+    But just as he began to tell,
+    The auld kirk-hammer strak' the bell
+    Some wee short hour ayont the twal,
+                        Which rais'd us baith:
+    I took the way that pleas'd mysel',
+                        And sae did Death.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 6: Buchan's Domestic Medicine.]
+
+[Footnote 7: The grave-digger.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XVI.
+
+THE TWA HERDS:
+
+OR,
+
+THE HOLY TULZIE.
+
+[The actors in this indecent drama were Moodie, minister of Ricartoun,
+and Russell, helper to the minister of Kilmarnock: though apostles of
+the "Old Light," they forgot their brotherhood in the vehemence of
+controversy, and went, it is said, to blows. "This poem," says Burns,
+"with a certain description of the clergy as well as laity, met with a
+roar of applause."]
+
+
+    O a' ye pious godly flocks,
+    Weel fed on pastures orthodox,
+    Wha now will keep you frae the fox,
+                      Or worrying tykes,
+    Or wha will tent the waifs and crocks,
+                      About the dykes?
+
+    The twa best herds in a' the wast,
+    That e'er ga'e gospel horn a blast,
+    These five and twenty simmers past,
+                      O! dool to tell,
+    Ha'e had a bitter black out-cast
+                      Atween themsel.
+
+    O, Moodie, man, and wordy Russell,
+    How could you raise so vile a bustle,
+    Ye'll see how New-Light herds will whistle
+                      And think it fine:
+    The Lord's cause ne'er got sic a twistle
+                      Sin' I ha'e min'.
+
+    O, sirs! whae'er wad ha'e expeckit
+    Your duty ye wad sae negleckit,
+    Ye wha were ne'er by lairds respeckit,
+                      To wear the plaid,
+    But by the brutes themselves eleckit,
+                      To be their guide.
+
+    What flock wi' Moodie's flock could rank,
+    Sae hale and hearty every shank,
+    Nae poison'd sour Arminian stank,
+                      He let them taste,
+    Frae Calvin's well, ay clear they drank,--
+                      O sic a feast!
+
+    The thummart, wil'-cat, brock, and tod,
+    Weel kend his voice thro' a' the wood,
+    He smelt their ilka hole and road,
+                      Baith out and in,
+    And weel he lik'd to shed their bluid,
+                      And sell their skin.
+
+    What herd like Russell tell'd his tale,
+    His voice was heard thro' muir and dale,
+    He kend the Lord's sheep, ilka tail,
+                      O'er a' the height,
+    And saw gin they were sick or hale,
+                      At the first sight.
+
+    He fine a mangy sheep could scrub,
+    Or nobly fling the gospel club,
+    And New-Light herds could nicely drub,
+                      Or pay their skin;
+    Could shake them o'er the burning dub,
+                      Or heave them in.
+
+    Sic twa--O! do I live to see't,
+    Sic famous twa should disagreet,
+    An' names, like villain, hypocrite,
+                      Ilk ither gi'en,
+    While New-Light herds, wi' laughin' spite,
+                      Say neither's liein'!
+
+    An' ye wha tent the gospel fauld,
+    There's Duncan, deep, and Peebles, shaul,
+    But chiefly thou, apostle Auld,
+                      We trust in thee,
+    That thou wilt work them, hot and cauld,
+                      Till they agree.
+
+    Consider, Sirs, how we're beset;
+    There's scarce a new herd that we get
+    But comes frae mang that cursed set
+                      I winna name;
+    I hope frae heav'n to see them yet
+                      In fiery flame.
+
+    Dalrymple has been lang our fae,
+    M'Gill has wrought us meikle wae,
+    And that curs'd rascal call'd M'Quhae,
+                      And baith the Shaws,
+    That aft ha'e made us black and blae,
+                      Wi' vengefu' paws.
+
+    Auld Wodrow lang has hatch'd mischief,
+    We thought ay death wad bring relief,
+    But he has gotten, to our grief,
+                      Ane to succeed him,
+    A chield wha'll soundly buff our beef;
+                      I meikle dread him.
+
+    And mony a ane that I could tell,
+    Wha fain would openly rebel,
+    Forbye turn-coats amang oursel,
+                      There's Smith for ane,
+    I doubt he's but a grey-nick quill,
+                      An' that ye'll fin'.
+
+    O! a' ye flocks o'er a' the hills,
+    By mosses, meadows, moors, and fells,
+    Come, join your counsel and your skills
+                      To cow the lairds,
+    And get the brutes the powers themsels
+                      To choose their herds;
+
+    Then Orthodoxy yet may prance,
+    And Learning in a woody dance,
+    And that fell cur ca'd Common Sense,
+                      That bites sae sair,
+    Be banish'd o'er the sea to France:
+                      Let him bark there.
+
+    Then Shaw's and Dalrymple's eloquence,
+    M'Gill's close nervous excellence,
+    M'Quhae's pathetic manly sense,
+                      And guid M'Math,
+    Wi' Smith, wha thro' the heart can glance,
+                      May a' pack aff.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XVII.
+
+HOLY WILLIE'S PRAYER.
+
+    "And send the godly in a pet to pray."
+
+POPE.
+
+[Of this sarcastic and too daring poem many copies in manuscript were
+circulated while the poet lived, but though not unknown or unfelt by
+Currie, it continued unpublished till printed by Stewart with the
+Jolly Beggars, in 1801. Holy Willie was a small farmer, leading elder
+to Auld, a name well known to all lovers of Burns; austere in speech,
+scrupulous in all outward observances, and, what is known by the name
+of a "professing Christian." He experienced, however, a "sore fall;"
+he permitted himself to be "filled fou," and in a moment when "self
+got in" made free, it is said, with the money of the poor of the
+parish. His name was William Fisher.]
+
+
+    O thou, wha in the heavens dost dwell,
+    Wha, as it pleases best thysel',
+    Sends ane to heaven, and ten to hell,
+                      A' for thy glory,
+    And no for ony gude or ill
+                      They've done afore thee!
+
+    I bless and praise thy matchless might,
+    Whan thousands thou hast left in night,
+    That I am here afore thy sight,
+                      For gifts and grace,
+    A burnin' and a shinin' light
+                      To a' this place.
+
+    What was I, or my generation,
+    That I should get sic exaltation,
+    I wha deserve sic just damnation,
+                      For broken laws,
+    Five thousand years 'fore my creation,
+                      Thro' Adam's cause.
+
+    When frae my mither's womb I fell,
+    Thou might hae plunged me in hell,
+    To gnash my gums, to weep and wail,
+                      In burnin' lake,
+    Whar damned devils roar and yell,
+                      Chain'd to a stake.
+
+    Yet I am here a chosen sample;
+    To show thy grace is great and ample;
+    I'm here a pillar in thy temple,
+                      Strong as a rock,
+    A guide, a buckler, an example,
+                      To a' thy flock.
+
+    But yet, O Lord! confess I must,
+    At times I'm fash'd wi' fleshly lust;
+    And sometimes, too, wi' warldly trust,
+                      Vile self gets in;
+    But thou remembers we are dust,
+                      Defil'd in sin.
+
+    O Lord! yestreen thou kens, wi' Meg--
+    Thy pardon I sincerely beg,
+    O! may't ne'er be a livin' plague
+                      To my dishonour,
+    An' I'll ne'er lift a lawless leg
+                      Again upon her.
+
+    Besides, I farther maun allow,
+    Wi' Lizzie's lass, three times I trow--
+    But Lord, that Friday I was fou,
+                      When I came near her,
+    Or else, thou kens, thy servant true
+                      Wad ne'er hae steer'd her.
+
+    Maybe thou lets this fleshly thorn,
+    Beset thy servant e'en and morn,
+    Lest he owre high and proud should turn,
+                      'Cause he's sae gifted;
+    If sae, thy han' maun e'en be borne
+                      Until thou lift it.
+
+    Lord, bless thy chosen in this place,
+    For here thou hast a chosen race:
+    But God confound their stubborn face,
+                      And blast their name,
+    Wha bring thy elders to disgrace
+                      And public shame.
+
+    Lord, mind Gawn Hamilton's deserts,
+    He drinks, and swears, and plays at carts,
+    Yet has sae mony takin' arts,
+                      Wi' grit and sma',
+    Frae God's ain priests the people's hearts
+                      He steals awa.
+
+    An' whan we chasten'd him therefore,
+    Thou kens how he bred sic a splore,
+    As set the warld in a roar
+                      O' laughin' at us;--
+    Curse thou his basket and his store,
+                      Kail and potatoes.
+
+    Lord, hear my earnest cry and pray'r,
+    Against the presbyt'ry of Ayr;
+    Thy strong right hand, Lord, mak it bare
+                      Upo' their heads,
+    Lord weigh it down, and dinna spare,
+                      For their misdeeds.
+
+    O Lord my God, that glib-tongu'd Aiken,
+    My very heart and saul are quakin',
+    To think how we stood groanin', shakin',
+                      And swat wi' dread,
+    While Auld wi' hingin lips gaed sneakin'
+                      And hung his head.
+
+    Lord, in the day of vengeance try him,
+    Lord, visit them wha did employ him,
+    And pass not in thy mercy by 'em,
+                      Nor hear their pray'r;
+    But for thy people's sake destroy 'em,
+                      And dinna spare.
+
+    But, Lord, remember me an mine,
+    Wi' mercies temp'ral and divine,
+    That I for gear and grace may shine,
+                      Excell'd by nane,
+    And a' the glory shall be thine,
+                      Amen, Amen!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XVIII.
+
+EPITAPH ON HOLY WILLIE.
+
+[We are informed by Richmond of Mauchline, that when he was clerk in
+Gavin Hamilton's office, Burns came in one morning and said, "I have
+just composed a poem, John, and if you will write it, I will repeat
+it." He repeated Holy Willie's Prayer and Epitaph; Hamilton came in at
+the moment, and having read them with delight, ran laughing with them
+in his hand to Robert Aiken. The end of Holy Willie was other than
+godly; in one of his visits to Mauchline, he drank more than was
+needful, fell into a ditch on his way home, and was found dead in the
+morning.]
+
+
+    Here Holy Willie's sair worn clay
+      Takes up its last abode;
+    His saul has ta'en some other way,
+      I fear the left-hand road.
+
+    Stop! there he is, as sure's a gun,
+      Poor, silly body, see him;
+    Nae wonder he's as black's the grun,
+      Observe wha's standing wi' him.
+
+    Your brunstane devilship I see,
+      Has got him there before ye;
+    But hand your nine-tail cat a wee,
+      Till ance you've heard my story.
+
+    Your pity I will not implore,
+      For pity ye hae nane;
+    Justice, alas! has gi'en him o'er,
+      And mercy's day is gaen.
+
+    But hear me, sir, deil as ye are,
+      Look something to your credit;
+    A coof like him wad stain your name,
+      If it were kent ye did it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XIX.
+
+THE INVENTORY;
+
+IN ANSWER TO A MANDATE BY THE SURVEYOR
+
+OF THE TAXES.
+
+[We have heard of a poor play-actor who, by a humorous inventory of
+his effects, so moved the commissioners of the income tax, that they
+remitted all claim on him then and forever; we know not that this very
+humorous inventory of Burns had any such effect on Mr. Aiken, the
+surveyor of the taxes. It is dated "Mossgiel, February 22d, 1786," and
+is remarkable for wit and sprightliness, and for the information which
+it gives us of the poet's habits, household, and agricultural
+implements.]
+
+
+    Sir, as your mandate did request,
+    I send you here a faithfu' list,
+    O' gudes, an' gear, an' a' my graith,
+    To which I'm clear to gi'e my aith.
+
+      _Imprimis_, then, for carriage cattle,
+    I have four brutes o' gallant mettle,
+    As ever drew afore a pettle.
+    My lan' afore's[8] a gude auld has been,
+    An' wight, an' wilfu' a' his days been.
+    My lan ahin's[9] a weel gaun fillie,
+    That aft has borne me hame frae Killie,[10]
+    An' your auld burro' mony a time,
+    In days when riding was nae crime--
+    But ance, whan in my wooing pride,
+    I like a blockhead boost to ride,
+    The wilfu' creature sae I pat to,
+    (L--d pardon a' my sins an' that too!)
+    I play'd my fillie sic a shavie,
+    She's a' bedevil'd with the spavie.
+    My fur ahin's[11] a wordy beast,
+    As e'er in tug or tow was trac'd.
+    The fourth's a Highland Donald hastie,
+    A d--n'd red wud Kilburnie blastie!
+    Forbye a cowt o' cowt's the wale,
+    As ever ran afore a tail.
+    If he be spar'd to be a beast,
+    He'll draw me fifteen pun' at least.--
+    Wheel carriages I ha'e but few,
+    Three carts, an' twa are feckly new;
+    Ae auld wheelbarrow, mair for token,
+    Ae leg an' baith the trams are broken;
+    I made a poker o' the spin'le,
+    An' my auld mither brunt the trin'le.
+
+      For men I've three mischievous boys,
+    Run de'ils for rantin' an' for noise;
+    A gaudsman ane, a thrasher t'other.
+    Wee Davock hauds the nowt in fother.
+    I rule them as I ought, discreetly,
+    An' aften labour them completely;
+    An' ay on Sundays, duly, nightly,
+    I on the Questions targe them tightly;
+    Till, faith, wee Davock's turn'd sae gleg,
+    Tho' scarcely langer than your leg,
+    He'll screed you aff Effectual calling,
+    As fast as ony in the dwalling.
+    I've nane in female servan' station,
+    (Lord keep me ay frae a' temptation!)
+    I ha'e nae wife--and that my bliss is,
+    An' ye have laid nae tax on misses;
+    An' then, if kirk folks dinna clutch me,
+    I ken the devils darena touch me.
+    Wi' weans I'm mair than weel contented,
+    Heav'n sent me ane mae than I wanted.
+    My sonsie smirking dear-bought Bess,
+    She stares the daddy in her face,
+    Enough of ought ye like but grace;
+    But her, my bonnie sweet wee lady,
+    I've paid enough for her already,
+    An' gin ye tax her or her mither,
+    B' the L--d! ye'se get them a'thegither.
+
+      And now, remember, Mr. Aiken,
+    Nae kind of license out I'm takin';
+    Frae this time forth, I do declare
+    I'se ne'er ride horse nor hizzie mair;
+    Thro' dirt and dub for life I'll paidle,
+    Ere I sae dear pay for a saddle;
+    My travel a' on foot I'll shank it,
+    I've sturdy bearers, Gude be thankit.
+    The kirk and you may tak' you that,
+    It puts but little in your pat;
+    Sae dinna put me in your buke.
+    Nor for my ten white shillings luke.
+
+      This list wi' my ain hand I wrote it,
+    the day and date as under noted;
+    Then know all ye whom it concerns,
+
+_Subscripsi huic_                 ROBERT BURNS.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 8: The fore-horse on the left-hand in the plough.]
+
+[Footnote 9: The hindmost on the left-hand in the plough.]
+
+[Footnote 10: Kilmarnock.]
+
+[Footnote 11: The hindmost horse on the right-hand in the plough.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XX.
+
+THE HOLY FAIR.
+
+    A robe of seeming truth and trust
+      Did crafty observation;
+    And secret hung, with poison'd crust,
+      The dirk of Defamation:
+    A mask that like the gorget show'd,
+      Dye-varying on the pigeon;
+    And for a mantle large and broad,
+      He wrapt him in Religion.
+
+HYPOCRISY A-LA-MODE.
+
+[The scene of this fine poem is the church-yard of Mauchline, and the
+subject handled so cleverly and sharply is the laxity of manners
+visible in matters so solemn and terrible as the administration of the
+sacrament. "This was indeed," says Lockhart, "an extraordinary
+performance: no partisan of any sect could whisper that malice had
+formed its principal inspiration, or that its chief attraction lay in
+the boldness with which individuals, entitled and accustomed to
+respect, were held up to ridicule: it was acknowledged, amidst the
+sternest mutterings of wrath, that national manners were once more in
+the hands of a national poet." "It is no doubt," says Hogg, "a
+reckless piece of satire, but it is a clever one, and must have cut to
+the bone. But much as I admire the poem I must regret that it is
+partly borrowed from Ferguson."]
+
+
+    Upon a simmer Sunday morn,
+      When Nature's face is fair,
+    I walked forth to view the corn,
+      An' snuff the caller air.
+    The rising sun owre Galston muirs,
+      Wi' glorious light was glintin';
+    The hares were hirplin down the furs,
+      The lav'rocks they were chantin'
+                      Fu' sweet that day.
+
+    As lightsomely I glowr'd abroad,
+      To see a scene sae gay,
+    Three hizzies, early at the road,
+      Cam skelpin up the way;
+    Twa had manteeles o' dolefu' black,
+      But ane wi' lyart lining;
+    The third, that gaed a-wee a-back,
+      Was in the fashion shining
+                      Fu' gay that day.
+
+    The twa appear'd like sisters twin,
+      In feature, form, an' claes;
+    Their visage, wither'd, lang, an' thin,
+      An' sour as ony slaes:
+    The third cam up, hap-step-an'-lowp,
+      As light as ony lambie,
+    An' wi' a curchie low did stoop,
+      As soon as e'er she saw me,
+                      Fu' kind that day.
+
+    Wi' bonnet aff, quoth I, "Sweet lass,
+      I think ye seem to ken me;
+    I'm sure I've seen that bonnie face,
+      But yet I canna name ye."
+    Quo' she, an' laughin' as she spak,
+      An' taks me by the hands,
+    "Ye, for my sake, hae gi'en the feck,
+      Of a' the ten commands
+                      A screed some day.
+
+    "My name is Fun--your cronie dear,
+      The nearest friend ye hae;
+    An' this is Superstition here,
+      An' that's Hypocrisy.
+    I'm gaun to Mauchline holy fair,
+      To spend an hour in daffin:
+    Gin ye'll go there, yon runkl'd pair,
+      We will get famous laughin'
+                      At them this day."
+
+    Quoth I, "With a' my heart I'll do't;
+      I'll get my Sunday's sark on,
+    An' meet you on the holy spot;
+      Faith, we'se hae fine remarkin'!"
+    Then I gaed hame at crowdie-time
+      An' soon I made me ready;
+    For roads were clad, frae side to side,
+      Wi' monie a wearie body,
+                      In droves that day.
+
+    Here farmers gash, in ridin' graith
+      Gaed hoddin by their cottars;
+    There, swankies young, in braw braid-claith,
+      Are springin' o'er the gutters.
+    The lasses, skelpin barefit, thrang,
+      In silks an' scarlets glitter;
+    Wi' sweet-milk cheese, in monie a whang,
+      An' farls bak'd wi' butter,
+                      Fu' crump that day.
+
+    When by the plate we set our nose,
+      Weel heaped up wi' ha'pence,
+    A greedy glowr Black Bonnet throws,
+      An' we maun draw our tippence.
+    Then in we go to see the show,
+      On ev'ry side they're gath'rin',
+    Some carrying dails, some chairs an' stools,
+      An' some are busy blethrin'
+                      Right loud that day.
+
+    Here stands a shed to fend the show'rs,
+      An' screen our countra gentry,
+    There, racer Jess, and twa-three wh-res,
+      Are blinkin' at the entry.
+    Here sits a raw of titlin' jades,
+      Wi' heaving breast and bare neck,
+    An' there's a batch o' wabster lads,
+      Blackguarding frae Kilmarnock
+                      For fun this day.
+
+    Here some are thinkin' on their sins,
+      An' some upo' their claes;
+    Ane curses feet that fyl'd his shins,
+      Anither sighs an' prays:
+    On this hand sits a chosen swatch,
+      Wi' screw'd up grace-proud faces;
+    On that a set o' chaps at watch,
+      Thrang winkin' on the lasses
+                      To chairs that day.
+
+    O happy is that man an' blest!
+      Nae wonder that it pride him!
+    Wha's ain dear lass that he likes best,
+      Comes clinkin' down beside him;
+    Wi' arm repos'd on the chair back,
+      He sweetly does compose him;
+    Which, by degrees, slips round her neck,
+      An's loof upon her bosom,
+                      Unkenn'd that day.
+
+    Now a' the congregation o'er
+      Is silent expectation;
+    For Moodie speeds the holy door,
+      Wi' tidings o' damnation.
+    Should Hornie, as in ancient days,
+      'Mang sons o' God present him,
+    The vera sight o' Moodie's face,
+      To's ain het hame had sent him
+                      Wi' fright that day.
+
+    Hear how he clears the points o' faith
+      Wi' ratlin' an' wi' thumpin'!
+    Now meekly calm, now wild in wrath,
+      He's stampin an' he's jumpin'!
+    His lengthen'd chin, his turn'd-up snout,
+      His eldritch squeel and gestures,
+    Oh, how they fire the heart devout,
+      Like cantharidian plasters,
+                      On sic a day.
+
+    But hark! the tent has chang'd its voice:
+      There's peace an' rest nae langer:
+    For a' the real judges rise,
+      They canna sit for anger.
+    Smith opens out his cauld harangues,
+      On practice and on morals;
+    An' aff the godly pour in thrangs,
+      To gie the jars an' barrels
+                      A lift that day.
+
+    What signifies his barren shine,
+      Of moral pow'rs and reason?
+    His English style, an' gestures fine,
+      Are a' clean out o' season.
+    Like Socrates or Antonine,
+      Or some auld pagan heathen,
+    The moral man he does define,
+      But ne'er a word o' faith in
+                      That's right that day.
+
+    In guid time comes an antidote
+      Against sic poison'd nostrum;
+    For Peebles, frae the water-fit,
+      Ascends the holy rostrum:
+    See, up he's got the word o' God,
+      An' meek an' mim has view'd it,
+    While Common-Sense has ta'en the road,
+      An' aff, an' up the Cowgate,[12]
+                      Fast, fast, that day.
+
+    Wee Miller, neist the guard relieves,
+      An' orthodoxy raibles,
+    Tho' in his heart he weel believes,
+      An' thinks it auld wives' fables:
+    But faith! the birkie wants a manse,
+      So, cannily he hums them;
+    Altho' his carnal wit an' sense
+      Like hafflins-ways o'ercomes him
+                      At times that day.
+
+    Now but an' ben, the Change-house fills,
+      Wi' yill-caup commentators:
+    Here's crying out for bakes and gills,
+      An' there the pint-stowp clatters;
+    While thick an' thrang, an' loud an' lang,
+      Wi' logic, an' wi' scripture,
+    They raise a din, that, in the end,
+      Is like to breed a rupture
+                      O' wrath that day.
+
+    Leeze me on drink! it gies us mair
+      Than either school or college:
+    It kindles wit, it waukens lair,
+      It pangs us fou' o' knowledge,
+    Be't whisky gill, or penny wheep,
+      Or any stronger potion,
+    It never fails, on drinking deep,
+      To kittle up our notion
+                      By night or day.
+
+    The lads an' lasses, blythely bent
+      To mind baith saul an' body,
+    Sit round the table, weel content,
+      An' steer about the toddy.
+    On this ane's dress, an' that ane's leuk,
+      They're making observations;
+    While some are cozie i' the neuk,
+      An' formin' assignations
+                      To meet some day.
+
+    But now the Lord's ain trumpet touts,
+      Till a' the hills are rairin',
+    An' echoes back return the shouts:
+      Black Russell is na' sparin':
+    His piercing words, like Highlan' swords,
+      Divide the joints and marrow;
+    His talk o' Hell, where devils dwell,
+      Our vera sauls does harrow[13]
+                      Wi' fright that day.
+
+    A vast, unbottom'd boundless pit,
+      Fill'd fou o' lowin' brunstane,
+    Wha's ragin' flame, an' scorchin' heat,
+      Wad melt the hardest whunstane!
+    The half asleep start up wi' fear,
+      An' think they hear it roarin',
+    When presently it does appear,
+      'Twas but some neibor snorin'
+                      Asleep that day.
+
+    'Twad be owre lang a tale to tell
+      How monie stories past,
+    An' how they crowded to the yill,
+      When they were a' dismist:
+    How drink gaed round, in cogs an' caups,
+      Amang the furms an' benches:
+    An' cheese an' bread, frae women's laps,
+      Was dealt about in lunches,
+                      An' dawds that day.
+
+    In comes a gaucie, gash guidwife,
+      An' sits down by the fire,
+    Syne draws her kebbuck an' her knife;
+      The lasses they are shyer.
+    The auld guidmen, about the grace,
+      Frae side to side they bother,
+    Till some ane by his bonnet lays,
+      An' gi'es them't like a tether,
+                      Fu' lang that day.
+
+    Waesucks! for him that gets nae lass,
+      Or lasses that hae naething;
+    Sma' need has he to say a grace,
+      Or melvie his braw claithing!
+    O wives, be mindfu' ance yoursel
+      How bonnie lads ye wanted,
+    An' dinna, for a kebbuck-heel,
+      Let lasses be affronted
+                      On sic a day!
+
+    Now Clinkumbell, wi' ratlin tow,
+      Begins to jow an' croon;
+    Some swagger hame, the best they dow,
+      Some wait the afternoon.
+    At slaps the billies halt a blink,
+      Till lasses strip their shoon:
+    Wi' faith an' hope, an' love an' drink,
+      They're a' in famous tune
+                      For crack that day.
+
+    How monie hearts this day converts
+      O' sinners and o' lasses!
+    Their hearts o' stane, gin night, are gane,
+      As saft as ony flesh is.
+    There's some are fou o' love divine;
+      There's some are fou o' brandy;
+    An' monie jobs that day begin
+      May end in houghmagandie
+                      Some ither day.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 12: A street so called, which faces the tent in Mauchline.]
+
+[Footnote 13: Shakespeare's Hamlet.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXI.
+
+THE ORDINATION.
+
+    "For sense they little owe to frugal heav'n--
+    To please the mob they hide the little giv'n."
+
+[This sarcastic sally was written on the admission of Mr. Mackinlay, as
+one of the ministers to the Laigh, or parochial Kirk of Kilmarnock, on
+the 6th of April, 1786. That reverend person was an Auld Light
+professor, and his ordination incensed all the New Lights, hence the
+bitter levity of the poem. These dissensions have long since past away:
+Mackinlay, a pious and kind-hearted sincere man, lived down all the
+personalities of the satire, and though unwelcome at first, he soon
+learned to regard them only as a proof of the powers of the poet.]
+
+
+    Kilmarnock wabsters fidge an' claw,
+      An' pour your creeshie nations;
+    An' ye wha leather rax an' draw,
+      Of a' denominations,
+    Swith to the Laigh Kirk, ane an' a',
+      An' there tak up your stations;
+    Then aff to Begbie's in a raw,
+      An' pour divine libations
+                      For joy this day.
+
+    Curst Common-Sense, that imp o' hell,
+      Cam in wi' Maggie Lauder;[14]
+    But Oliphant aft made her yell,
+      An' Russell sair misca'd her;
+    This day Mackinlay taks the flail,
+      And he's the boy will blaud her!
+    He'll clap a shangan on her tail,
+      An' set the bairns to daud her
+                      Wi' dirt this day.
+
+    Mak haste an' turn King David owre,
+      An' lilt wi' holy clangor;
+    O' double verse come gie us four,
+      An' skirl up the Bangor:
+    This day the Kirk kicks up a stoure,
+      Nae mair the knaves shall wrang her,
+    For Heresy is in her pow'r,
+      And gloriously she'll whang her
+                      Wi' pith this day.
+
+    Come, let a proper text be read,
+      An' touch it aff wi' vigour,
+    How graceless Ham[15] leugh at his dad,
+      Which made Canaan a niger;
+    Or Phineas[16] drove the murdering blade,
+      Wi' wh-re-abhorring rigour;
+    Or Zipporah,[17] the scauldin' jad,
+      Was like a bluidy tiger
+                      I' th' inn that day.
+
+    There, try his mettle on the creed,
+      And bind him down wi' caution,
+    That stipend is a carnal weed
+      He taks but for the fashion;
+    And gie him o'er the flock, to feed,
+      And punish each transgression;
+    Especial, rams that cross the breed,
+      Gie them sufficient threshin',
+                      Spare them nae day.
+
+    Now, auld Kilmarnock, cock thy tail,
+      And toss thy horns fu' canty;
+    Nae mair thou'lt rowte out-owre the dale,
+      Because thy pasture's scanty;
+    For lapfu's large o' gospel kail
+      Shall fill thy crib in plenty,
+    An' runts o' grace the pick and wale,
+      No gi'en by way o' dainty,
+                      But ilka day.
+
+    Nae mair by Babel's streams we'll weep,
+      To think upon our Zion;
+    And hing our fiddles up to sleep,
+      Like baby-clouts a-dryin':
+    Come, screw the pegs, wi' tunefu' cheep,
+      And o'er the thairms be tryin';
+    Oh, rare! to see our elbucks wheep,
+      An' a' like lamb-tails flyin'
+                      Fu' fast this day!
+
+    Lang Patronage, wi' rod o' airn,
+      Has shor'd the Kirk's undoin',
+    As lately Fenwick, sair forfairn,
+      Has proven to its ruin:
+    Our patron, honest man! Glencairn,
+      He saw mischief was brewin';
+    And like a godly elect bairn
+      He's wal'd us out a true ane,
+                      And sound this day.
+
+    Now, Robinson, harangue nae mair,
+      But steek your gab for ever.
+    Or try the wicked town of Ayr,
+      For there they'll think you clever;
+    Or, nae reflection on your lear,
+      Ye may commence a shaver;
+    Or to the Netherton repair,
+      And turn a carpet-weaver
+                      Aff-hand this day.
+
+    Mutrie and you were just a match
+      We never had sic twa drones:
+    Auld Hornie did the Laigh Kirk watch,
+      Just like a winkin' baudrons:
+    And ay' he catch'd the tither wretch,
+      To fry them in his caudrons;
+    But now his honour maun detach,
+      Wi' a' his brimstane squadrons,
+                      Fast, fast this day.
+
+    See, see auld Orthodoxy's faes
+      She's swingein' through the city;
+    Hark, how the nine-tail'd cat she plays!
+      I vow it's unco pretty:
+    There, Learning, with his Greekish face,
+      Grunts out some Latin ditty;
+    And Common Sense is gaun, she says,
+      To mak to Jamie Beattie
+                      Her plaint this day.
+
+    But there's Morality himsel',
+      Embracing all opinions;
+    Hear, how he gies the tither yell,
+      Between his twa companions;
+    See, how she peels the skin an' fell.
+      As ane were peelin' onions!
+    Now there--they're packed aff to hell,
+      And banished our dominions,
+                      Henceforth this day.
+
+    O, happy day! rejoice, rejoice!
+      Come bouse about the porter!
+    Morality's demure decoys
+      Shall here nae mair find quarter:
+    Mackinlay, Russell, are the boys,
+      That Heresy can torture:
+    They'll gie her on a rape a hoyse,
+      And cowe her measure shorter
+                      By th' head some day.
+
+    Come, bring the tither mutchkin in,
+      And here's for a conclusion,
+    To every New Light[18] mother's son,
+      From this time forth Confusion:
+    If mair they deave us wi' their din,
+      Or Patronage intrusion,
+    We'll light a spunk, and ev'ry skin,
+      We'll rin them aff in fusion
+                      Like oil, some day.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 14: Alluding to a scoffing ballad which was made on the
+admission of the late reverend and worthy Mr. Lindsay to the Laigh
+Kirk.]
+
+[Footnote 15: Genesis, ix. 22.]
+
+[Footnote 16: Numbers, xxv. 8.]
+
+[Footnote 17: Exodus, iv. 25.]
+
+[Footnote 18: "New Light" is a cant phrase in the West of Scotland, for
+those religions opinions which Dr. Taylor of Norwich has defended.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXII.
+
+THE CALF.
+
+TO THE REV. MR. JAMES STEVEN.
+
+On his text, MALACHI, iv. 2--"And ye shall go forth, and grow
+up as CALVES of the stall."
+
+[The laugh which this little poem raised against Steven was a loud
+one. Burns composed it during the sermon to which it relates and
+repeated it to Gavin Hamilton, with whom he happened on that day to
+dine. The Calf--for the name it seems stuck--came to London, where the
+younger brother of Burns heard him preach in Covent Garden Chapel, in
+1796.]
+
+
+    Right, Sir! your text I'll prove it true,
+      Though Heretics may laugh;
+    For instance; there's yoursel' just now,
+      God knows, an unco Calf!
+
+    And should some patron be so kind,
+      As bless you wi' a kirk,
+    I doubt na, Sir, but then we'll find,
+      Ye're still as great a Stirk.
+
+    But, if the lover's raptur'd hour
+      Shall ever be your lot,
+    Forbid it, ev'ry heavenly power,
+      You e'er should be a stot!
+
+    Tho', when some kind, connubial dear,
+      Your but-and-ben adorns,
+    The like has been that you may wear
+      A noble head of horns.
+
+    And in your lug, most reverend James,
+      To hear you roar and rowte,
+    Few men o' sense will doubt your claims
+      To rank among the nowte.
+
+    And when ye're number'd wi' the dead,
+      Below a grassy hillock,
+    Wi' justice they may mark your head--
+      "Here lies a famous Bullock!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXIII.
+
+TO JAMES SMITH.
+
+    "Friendship! mysterious cement of the soul!
+    Sweet'ner of life and solder of society!
+    I owe thee much!--"
+
+BLAIR.
+
+[The James Smith, to whom this epistle is addressed, was at that time
+a small shop-keeper in Mauchline, and the comrade or rather follower of
+the poet in all his merry expeditions with "Yill-caup commentators."
+He was present in Poosie Nansie's when the Jolly Beggars first dawned
+on the fancy of Burns: the comrades of the poet's heart were not
+generally very successful in life: Smith left Mauchline, and
+established a calico-printing manufactory at Avon near Linlithgow,
+where his friend found him in all appearance prosperous in 1788; but
+this was not to last; he failed in his speculations and went to the
+West Indies, and died early. His wit was ready, and his manners lively
+and unaffected.]
+
+
+    Dear Smith, the sleest, paukie thief,
+    That e'er attempted stealth or rief,
+    Ye surely hae some warlock-breef
+                        Owre human hearts;
+    For ne'er a bosom yet was prief
+                        Against your arts.
+
+    For me, I swear by sun an' moon,
+    And ev'ry star that blinks aboon,
+    Ye've cost me twenty pair o' shoon
+                        Just gaun to see you;
+    And ev'ry ither pair that's done,
+                        Mair ta'en I'm wi' you.
+
+    That auld capricious carlin, Nature,
+    To mak amends for scrimpit stature,
+    She's turn'd you aff, a human creature
+                        On her first plan;
+    And in her freaks, on every feature
+                        She's wrote, the Man.
+
+    Just now I've ta'en the fit o' rhyme,
+    My barmie noddle's working prime,
+    My fancy yerkit it up sublime
+                        Wi' hasty summon:
+    Hae ye a leisure-moment's time
+                        To hear what's comin'?
+
+    Some rhyme a neighbour's name to lash;
+    Some rhyme (vain thought!) for needfu' cash:
+    Some rhyme to court the countra clash,
+                        An' raise a din;
+    For me, an aim I never fash;
+                        I rhyme for fun.
+
+    The star that rules my luckless lot,
+    Has fated me the russet coat,
+    An' damn'd my fortune to the groat;
+                        But in requit,
+    Has blest me with a random shot
+                        O' countra wit.
+
+    This while my notion's ta'en a sklent,
+    To try my fate in guid black prent;
+    But still the mair I'm that way bent,
+                        Something cries "Hoolie!
+    I red you, honest man, tak tent!
+                        Ye'll shaw your folly.
+
+    "There's ither poets much your betters,
+    Far seen in Greek, deep men o' letters,
+    Hae thought they had ensur'd their debtors,
+                        A' future ages:
+    Now moths deform in shapeless tatters,
+                        Their unknown pages."
+
+    Then farewell hopes o' laurel-boughs,
+    To garland my poetic brows!
+    Henceforth I'll rove where busy ploughs
+                        Are whistling thrang,
+    An' teach the lanely heights an' howes
+                        My rustic sang.
+
+    I'll wander on, with tentless heed
+    How never-halting moments speed,
+    Till fate shall snap the brittle thread;
+                        Then, all unknown,
+    I'll lay me with th' inglorious dead,
+                        Forgot and gone!
+
+    But why o' death begin a tale?
+    Just now we're living sound and hale,
+    Then top and maintop crowd the sail,
+                        Heave care o'er side!
+    And large, before enjoyment's gale,
+                        Let's tak the tide.
+
+    This life, sae far's I understand,
+    Is a' enchanted fairy land,
+    Where pleasure is the magic wand,
+                        That, wielded right,
+    Maks hours like minutes, hand in hand,
+                        Dance by fu' light.
+
+    The magic wand then let us wield;
+    For, ance that five-an'-forty's speel'd,
+    See crazy, weary, joyless eild,
+                        Wi' wrinkl'd face,
+    Comes hostin', hirplin', owre the field,
+                        Wi' creepin' pace.
+
+    When ance life's day draws near the gloamin',
+    Then fareweel vacant careless roamin';
+    An' fareweel cheerfu' tankards foamin',
+                        An' social noise;
+    An' fareweel dear, deluding woman!
+                        The joy of joys!
+
+    O Life! how pleasant in thy morning,
+    Young Fancy's rays the hills adorning!
+    Cold-pausing Caution's lesson scorning,
+                        We frisk away,
+    Like school-boys, at th' expected warning,
+                        To joy and play.
+
+    We wander there, we wander here,
+    We eye the rose upon the brier,
+    Unmindful that the thorn is near,
+                        Among the leaves;
+    And tho' the puny wound appear,
+                        Short while it grieves.
+
+    Some, lucky, find a flow'ry spot,
+    For which they never toil'd nor swat;
+    They drink the sweet and eat the fat,
+                        But care or pain;
+    And, haply, eye the barren hut
+                        With high disdain.
+
+    With steady aim some Fortune chase;
+    Keen hope does ev'ry sinew brace;
+    Thro' fair, thro' foul, they urge the race,
+                        And seize the prey;
+    Then cannie, in some cozie place,
+                        They close the day.
+
+    And others, like your humble servan',
+    Poor wights! nae rules nor roads observin';
+    To right or left, eternal swervin',
+                        They zig-zag on;
+    'Till curst with age, obscure an' starvin',
+                        They aften groan.
+
+    Alas! what bitter toil an' straining--
+    But truce with peevish, poor complaining!
+    Is fortune's fickle Luna waning?
+                        E'en let her gang!
+    Beneath what light she has remaining,
+                        Let's sing our sang.
+
+    My pen I here fling to the door,
+    And kneel, "Ye Pow'rs," and warm implore,
+    "Tho' I should wander terra e'er,
+                        In all her climes,
+    Grant me but this, I ask no more,
+                        Ay rowth o' rhymes.
+
+    "Gie dreeping roasts to countra lairds,
+    Till icicles hing frae their beards;
+    Gie fine braw claes to fine life-guards,
+                        And maids of honour!
+    And yill an' whisky gie to cairds,
+                        Until they sconner.
+
+    "A title, Dempster merits it;
+    A garter gie to Willie Pitt;
+    Gie wealth to some be-ledger'd cit,
+                        In cent. per cent.
+    But give me real, sterling wit,
+                        And I'm content.
+
+    "While ye are pleas'd to keep me hale,
+    I'll sit down o'er my scanty meal,
+    Be't water-brose, or muslin-kail,
+                        Wi' cheerfu' face,
+    As lang's the muses dinna fail
+                        To say the grace."
+
+    An anxious e'e I never throws
+    Behint my lug, or by my nose;
+    I jouk beneath misfortune's blows
+                        As weel's I may;
+    Sworn foe to sorrow, care, and prose,
+                        I rhyme away.
+
+    O ye douce folk, that live by rule,
+    Grave, tideless-blooded, calm and cool,
+    Compar'd wi' you--O fool! fool! fool!
+                        How much unlike!
+    Your hearts are just a standing pool,
+                        Your lives a dyke!
+
+    Nae hair-brain'd, sentimental traces,
+    In your unletter'd nameless faces!
+    In arioso trills and graces
+                        Ye never stray,
+    But gravissimo, solemn basses
+                        Ye hum away.
+
+    Ye are sae grave, nae doubt ye're wise;
+    Nae ferly tho' ye do despise
+    The hairum-scarum, ram-stam boys,
+                        The rattling squad:
+    I see you upward cast your eyes--
+                        Ye ken the road--
+
+    Whilst I--but I shall haud me there--
+    Wi' you I'll scarce gang ony where--
+    Then, Jamie, I shall say nae mair,
+                        But quat my sang,
+    Content wi' you to mak a pair,
+                        Whare'er I gang.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXIV.
+
+THE VISION.
+
+DUAN FIRST.[19]
+
+[The Vision and the Briggs of Ayr, are said by Jeffrey to be "the only
+pieces by Burns which can be classed under the head of pure fiction:"
+but Tam O' Shanter and twenty other of his compositions have an equal
+right to be classed with works of fiction. The edition of this poem
+published at Kilmarnock, differs in some particulars from the edition
+which followed in Edinburgh. The maiden whose foot was so handsome as
+to match that of Coila, was a Bess at first, but old affection
+triumphed, and Jean, for whom the honour was from the first designed,
+regained her place. The robe of Coila, too, was expanded, so far
+indeed that she got more cloth than she could well carry.]
+
+
+    The sun had clos'd the winter day,
+    The curlers quat their roaring play,
+    An' hunger'd maukin ta'en her way
+                      To kail-yards green,
+    While faithless snaws ilk step betray
+                      Whare she has been.
+
+    The thresher's weary flingin'-tree
+    The lee-lang day had tired me;
+    And when the day had closed his e'e
+                      Far i' the west,
+    Ben i' the spence, right pensivelie,
+                      I gaed to rest.
+
+    There, lanely, by the ingle-cheek,
+    I sat and ey'd the spewing reek,
+    That fill'd, wi' hoast-provoking smeek,
+                      The auld clay biggin';
+    An' heard the restless rattons squeak
+                      About the riggin'.
+
+    All in this mottie, misty clime,
+    I backward mused on wastet time,
+    How I had spent my youthfu' prime,
+                      An' done nae thing,
+    But stringin' blethers up in rhyme,
+                      For fools to sing.
+
+    Had I to guid advice but harkit,
+    I might, by this hae led a market,
+    Or strutted in a bank an' clarkit
+                      My cash-account:
+    While here, half-mad, half-fed, half-sarkit,
+                      Is a' th' amount.
+
+    I started, mutt'ring, blockhead! coof!
+    And heav'd on high my waukit loof,
+    To swear by a' yon starry roof,
+                      Or some rash aith,
+    That I, henceforth, would be rhyme-proof
+                      Till my last breath--
+
+    When, click! the string the snick did draw:
+    And, jee! the door gaed to the wa';
+    An' by my ingle-lowe I saw,
+                      Now bleezin' bright,
+    A tight outlandish hizzie, braw
+                      Come full in sight.
+
+    Ye need na doubt, I held my wisht;
+    The infant aith, half-form'd, was crusht;
+    I glowr'd as eerie's I'd been dusht
+                      In some wild glen;
+    When sweet, like modest worth, she blusht,
+                      And stepped ben.
+
+    Green, slender, leaf-clad holly-boughs
+    Were twisted, gracefu', round her brows,
+    I took her for some Scottish Muse,
+                      By that same token;
+    An' come to stop those reckless vows,
+                      Wou'd soon be broken.
+
+    A "hair-brain'd, sentimental trace"
+    Was strongly marked in her face;
+    A wildly-witty, rustic grace
+                      Shone full upon her:
+    Her eye, ev'n turn'd on empty space,
+                      Beam'd keen with honour.
+
+    Down flow'd her robe, a tartan sheen,
+    'Till half a leg was scrimply seen:
+    And such a leg! my bonnie Jean
+                      Could only peer it;
+    Sae straught, sae taper, tight, and clean,
+                      Nane else came near it.
+
+    Her mantle large, of greenish hue,
+    My gazing wonder chiefly drew;
+    Deep lights and shades, bold-mingling, threw
+                      A lustre grand;
+    And seem'd to my astonish'd view,
+                      A well-known land.
+
+    Here, rivers in the sea were lost;
+    There, mountains to the skies were tost:
+    Here, tumbling billows mark'd the coast,
+                      With surging foam;
+    There, distant shone Art's lofty boast,
+                      The lordly dome.
+
+    Here, Doon pour'd down his far-fetch'd floods;
+    There, well-fed Irwine stately thuds:
+    Auld hermit Ayr staw thro' his woods,
+                      On to the shore;
+    And many a lesser torrent scuds,
+                      With seeming roar.
+
+    Low, in a sandy valley spread,
+    An ancient borough rear'd her head;
+    Still, as in Scottish story read,
+                      She boasts a race,
+    To ev'ry nobler virtue bred,
+                      And polish'd grace.
+
+    By stately tow'r, or palace fair,
+    Or ruins pendent in the air,
+    Bold stems of heroes, here and there,
+                      I could discern;
+    Some seem'd to muse, some seem'd to dare,
+                      With feature stern.
+
+    My heart did glowing transport feel,
+    To see a race[20] heroic wheel,
+    And brandish round the deep-dy'd steel
+                      In sturdy blows;
+    While back-recoiling seem'd to reel
+                      Their southron foes.
+
+    His Country's Saviour,[21] mark him well!
+    Bold Richardton's[22] heroic swell;
+    The chief on Sark[23] who glorious fell,
+                      In high command;
+    And He whom ruthless fates expel
+                      His native land.
+
+    There, where a sceptr'd Pictish shade[24]
+    Stalk'd round his ashes lowly laid,
+    I mark'd a martial race portray'd
+                      In colours strong;
+    Bold, soldier-featur'd, undismay'd
+                      They strode along.
+
+    Thro' many a wild romantic grove,[25]
+    Near many a hermit-fancy'd cove,
+    (Fit haunts for friendship or for love,)
+                      In musing mood,
+    An aged judge, I saw him rove,
+                      Dispensing good.
+
+    With deep-struck, reverential awe,[26]
+    The learned sire and son I saw,
+    To Nature's God and Nature's law,
+                      They gave their lore,
+    This, all its source and end to draw;
+                      That, to adore.
+
+    Brydone's brave ward[27] I well could spy,
+    Beneath old Scotia's smiling eye;
+    Who call'd on Fame, low standing by,
+                      To hand him on,
+    Where many a Patriot-name on high
+                      And hero shone.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+DUAN SECOND
+
+    With musing-deep, astonish'd stare,
+    I view'd the heavenly-seeming fair;
+    A whisp'ring throb did witness bear
+                      Of kindred sweet,
+    When with an elder sister's air
+                      She did me greet.
+
+    "All hail! My own inspired bard!
+    In me thy native Muse regard!
+    Nor longer mourn thy fate is hard,
+                      Thus poorly low!
+    I come to give thee such reward
+                      As we bestow.
+
+    "Know, the great genius of this land,
+    Has many a light aerial band,
+    Who, all beneath his high command,
+                      Harmoniously,
+    As arts or arms they understand,
+                      Their labours ply.
+
+    "They Scotia's race among them share;
+    Some fire the soldier on to dare;
+    Some rouse the patriot up to bare
+                      Corruption's heart.
+    Some teach the bard, a darling care,
+                      The tuneful art.
+
+    "'Mong swelling floods of reeking gore,
+    They, ardent, kindling spirits, pour;
+    Or 'mid the venal senate's roar,
+                      They, sightless, stand,
+    To mend the honest patriot-lore,
+                      And grace the hand.
+
+    "And when the bard, or hoary sage,
+    Charm or instruct the future age,
+    They bind the wild, poetic rage
+                      In energy,
+    Or point the inconclusive page
+                      Full on the eye.
+
+    "Hence Fullarton, the brave and young;
+    Hence Dempster's zeal-inspired tongue;
+    Hence sweet harmonious Beattie sung
+                      His 'Minstrel' lays;
+    Or tore, with noble ardour stung,
+                      The sceptic's bays.
+
+    "To lower orders are assign'd
+    The humbler ranks of human-kind,
+    The rustic bard, the lab'ring hind,
+                      The artisan;
+    All choose, as various they're inclin'd
+                      The various man.
+
+    "When yellow waves the heavy grain,
+    The threat'ning storm some, strongly, rein;
+    Some teach to meliorate the plain,
+                      With tillage-skill;
+    And some instruct the shepherd-train,
+                      Blythe o'er the hill.
+
+    "Some hint the lover's harmless wile;
+    Some grace the maiden's artless smile;
+    Some soothe the lab'rer's weary toil,
+                      For humble gains,
+    And make his cottage-scenes beguile
+                      His cares and pains.
+
+    "Some, bounded to a district-space,
+    Explore at large man's infant race,
+    To mark the embryotic trace
+                      Of rustic bard:
+    And careful note each op'ning grace,
+                      A guide and guard.
+
+    "Of these am I--Coila my name;
+    And this district as mine I claim,
+    Where once the Campbells, chiefs of fame,
+                      Held ruling pow'r:
+    I mark'd thy embryo-tuneful flame,
+                      Thy natal hour.
+
+    "With future hope, I oft would gaze,
+    Fond, on thy little early ways,
+    Thy rudely carroll'd, chiming phrase,
+                      In uncouth rhymes,
+    Fir'd at the simple, artless lays
+                      Of other times.
+
+    "I saw thee seek the sounding shore,
+    Delighted with the dashing roar;
+    Or when the north his fleecy store
+                      Drove through the sky,
+    I saw grim Nature's visage hoar
+                      Struck thy young eye.
+
+    "Or when the deep green-mantled earth
+    Warm cherish'd ev'ry flow'ret's birth,
+    And joy and music pouring forth
+                      In ev'ry grove,
+    I saw thee eye the general mirth
+                      With boundless love.
+
+    "When ripen'd fields, and azure skies,
+    Called forth the reaper's rustling noise,
+    I saw thee leave their evening joys,
+                      And lonely stalk,
+    To vent thy bosom's swelling rise
+                      In pensive walk.
+
+    "When youthful love, warm-blushing, strong,
+    Keen-shivering shot thy nerves along,
+    Those accents, grateful to thy tongue,
+                      Th' adored Name
+    I taught thee how to pour in song,
+                      To soothe thy flame.
+
+    "I saw thy pulse's maddening play,
+    Wild send thee pleasure's devious way,
+    Misled by Fancy's meteor-ray,
+                      By passion driven;
+    But yet the light that led astray
+                      Was light from Heaven.
+
+    "I taught thy manners-painting strains,
+    The loves, the ways of simple swains,
+    Till now, o'er all my wide domains
+                      Thy fame extends;
+    And some, the pride of Coila's plains,
+                      Become thy friends.
+
+    "Thou canst not learn, nor can I show,
+    To paint with Thomson's landscape glow;
+    Or wake the bosom-melting throe,
+                      With Shenstone's art;
+    Or pour, with Gray, the moving flow,
+                      Warm on the heart.
+
+    "Yet, all beneath the unrivall'd rose,
+    The lowly daisy sweetly blows;
+    Tho' large the forest's monarch throws
+                      His army shade,
+    Yet green the juicy hawthorn grows,
+                      Adown the glade.
+
+    "Then never murmur nor repine;
+    Strive in thy humble sphere to shine;
+    And, trust me, not Potosi's mine,
+                      Nor king's regard,
+    Can give a bliss o'ermatching thine,
+                      A rustic bard.
+
+    "To give my counsels all in one,
+    Thy tuneful flame still careful fan;
+    Preserve the dignity of man,
+                      With soul erect;
+    And trust, the universal plan
+                      Will all protect.
+
+    "And wear thou this,"--she solemn said,
+    And bound the holly round my head:
+    The polish'd leaves and berries red
+                      Did rustling play;
+    And like a passing thought, she fled
+                      In light away.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 19: Duan, a term of Ossian's for the different divisions of a
+digressive poem. See his "Cath-Loda," vol. ii. of Macpherson's
+translation.]
+
+[Footnote 20: The Wallaces.]
+
+[Footnote 21: Sir William Wallace.]
+
+[Footnote 22: Adam Wallace, of Richardton, cousin to the immortal
+preserver of Scottish independence.]
+
+[Footnote 23: Wallace, Laird of Craigie, who was second in command
+under Douglas, Earl of Ormond, at the famous battle on the banks of
+Sark, fought anno 1448. That glorious victory was principally owing to
+the judicious conduct and intrepid valour of the gallant laird of
+Craigie, who died of his wounds after the action.]
+
+[Footnote 24: Coilus, king of the Picts, from whom the district of Kyle
+is said to take its name, lies buried, as tradition says, near the
+family seat of the Montgomeries of Coilsfield, where his burial-place
+is still shown.]
+
+[Footnote 25: Barskimming, the seat of the late Lord Justice-Clerk (Sir
+Thomas Miller of Glenlee, afterwards President of the Court of
+Session.)]
+
+[Footnote 26: Catrine, the seat of Professor Dugald Steward.]
+
+[Footnote 27: Colonel Fullarton.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXV.
+
+HALLOWEEN.[28]
+
+    "Yes! let the rich deride, the proud disdain,
+    The simple pleasures of the lowly train;
+    To me more dear, congenial to my heart,
+    One native charm, than all the gloss of art."
+
+GOLDSMITH.
+
+[This Poem contains a lively and striking picture of some of the
+superstitious observances of old Scotland: on Halloween the desire to
+look into futurity was once all but universal in the north; and the
+charms and spells which Burns describes, form but a portion of those
+employed to enable the peasantry to have a peep up the dark vista of
+the future. The scene is laid on the romantic shores of Ayr, at a
+farmer's fireside, and the actors in the rustic drama are the whole
+household, including supernumerary reapers and bandsmen about to be
+discharged from the engagements of harvest. "I never can help
+regarding this," says James Hogg, "as rather a trivial poem!"]
+
+
+    Upon that night, when fairies light
+      On Cassilis Downans[29] dance,
+    Or owre the lays, in splendid blaze,
+      On sprightly coursers prance;
+    Or for Colean the rout is ta'en,
+      Beneath the moon's pale beams;
+    There, up the Cove,[30] to stray an' rove
+      Amang the rocks an' streams
+                      To sport that night.
+
+    Amang the bonnie winding banks
+      Where Doon rins, wimplin', clear,
+    Where Bruce[31] ance rul'd the martial ranks,
+      An' shook his Carrick spear,
+    Some merry, friendly, countra folks,
+      Together did convene,
+    To burn their nits, an' pou their stocks,
+      An' haud their Halloween
+                      Fu' blythe that night.
+
+    The lasses feat, an' cleanly neat,
+      Mair braw than when they're fine;
+    Their faces blythe, fu' sweetly kythe,
+      Hearts leal, an' warm, an' kin';
+    The lads sae trig, wi' wooer babs,
+      Weel knotted on their garten,
+    Some unco blate, an' some wi' gabs,
+      Gar lasses' hearts gang startin'
+                      Whiles fast at night.
+
+    Then, first and foremost, thro' the kail,
+      Their stocks[32] maun a' be sought ance;
+    They steek their een, an' graip an' wale,
+      For muckle anes an' straught anes.
+    Poor hav'rel Will fell aff the drift,
+      An' wander'd through the bow-kail,
+    An' pou't, for want o' better shift,
+      A runt was like a sow-tail,
+                      Sae bow't that night.
+
+    Then, straught or crooked, yird or nane,
+      They roar an' cry a' throu'ther;
+    The vera wee-things, todlin', rin
+      Wi' stocks out-owre their shouther;
+    An' gif the custoc's sweet or sour,
+      Wi' joctelegs they taste them;
+    Syne coziely, aboon the door,
+      Wi' cannie care, they've placed them
+                      To lie that night.
+
+    The lasses staw frae mang them a'
+      To pou their stalks o' corn;[33]
+    But Rab slips out, an' jinks about,
+      Behint the muckle thorn:
+    He grippet Nelly hard an' fast;
+      Loud skirl'd a' the lasses;
+    But her tap-pickle maist was lost,
+      When kiuttlin' in the fause-house[34]
+                      Wi' him that night.
+
+    The auld guidwife's weel hoordet nits[35]
+    Are round an' round divided;
+    An' monie lads' an' lasses' fates
+    Are there that night decided:
+    Some kindle, couthie, side by side,
+    An' burn thegither trimly;
+    Some start awa' wi' saucy pride,
+    And jump out-owre the chimlie
+                      Fu' high that night.
+
+    Jean slips in twa wi' tentie e'e;
+    Wha 'twas, she wadna tell;
+    But this is Jock, an' this is me,
+    She says in to hersel':
+    He bleez'd owre her, an' she owre him,
+    As they wad never mair part;
+    'Till, fuff! he started up the lum,
+    An' Jean had e'en a sair heart
+                      To see't that night.
+
+    Poor Willie, wi' his bow-kail runt,
+    Was brunt wi' primsie Mallie;
+    An' Mallie, nae doubt, took the drunt,
+    To be compar'd to Willie;
+    Mall's nit lap out wi' pridefu' fling,
+    An' her ain fit it brunt it;
+    While Willie lap, and swoor, by jing,
+    'Twas just the way he wanted
+                      To be that night.
+
+    Nell had the fause-house in her min',
+    She pits hersel an' Rob in;
+    In loving bleeze they sweetly join,
+    'Till white in ase they're sobbin';
+    Nell's heart, was dancin' at the view,
+    She whisper'd Rob to leuk for't:
+    Rob, stowlins, prie'd her bonie mou',
+    Fu' cozie in the neuk for't,
+                      Unseen that night.
+
+    But Merran sat behint their backs,
+    Her thoughts on Andrew Bell;
+    She lea'es them gashin' at their cracks,
+    And slips out by hersel':
+    She through the yard the nearest taks,
+    An' to the kiln she goes then,
+    An' darklins graipit for the bauks,
+    And in the blue-clue[36] throws then,
+                      Right fear't that night.
+
+    An' ay she win't, an' ay she swat,
+    I wat she made nae jaukin';
+    'Till something held within the pat,
+    Guid L--d! but she was quaukin'!
+    But whether 'twas the Deil himsel',
+    Or whether 'twas a bauk-en',
+    Or whether it was Andrew Bell,
+    She did na wait on talkin'
+                      To spier that night.
+
+    Wee Jenny to her graunie says,
+    "Will ye go wi' me, graunie?
+    I'll eat the apple[37] at the glass,
+    I gat frae uncle Johnnie:"
+    She fuff't her pipe wi' sic a lunt,
+    In wrath she was sae vap'rin',
+    She notic't na, an aizle brunt
+    Her braw new worset apron
+                      Out thro' that night.
+
+    "Ye little skelpie-limmer's face!
+    I daur you try sic sportin',
+    As seek the foul Thief onie place,
+    For him to spae your fortune:
+    Nae doubt but ye may get a sight!
+    Great cause ye hae to fear it;
+    For monie a ane has gotten a fright,
+    An' liv'd an' died deleeret
+                      On sic a night.
+
+    "Ae hairst afore the Sherra-moor,
+    I mind't as weel's yestreen,
+    I was a gilpey then, I'm sure
+    I was na past fifteen:
+    The simmer had been cauld an' wat,
+    An' stuff was unco green;
+    An' ay a rantin' kirn we gat,
+    An' just on Halloween
+                      It fell that night.
+
+    "Our stibble-rig was Rab M'Graen,
+      A clever, sturdy fellow:
+    He's sin gat Eppie Sim wi' wean,
+      That liv'd in Achmacalla:
+    He gat hemp-seed,[38] I mind it weel,
+      And he made unco light o't;
+    But monie a day was by himsel',
+      He was sae sairly frighted
+                      That vera night."
+
+    Then up gat fechtin' Jamie Fleck,
+      An' he swoor by his conscience,
+    That he could saw hemp-seed a peck;
+      For it was a' but nonsense;
+    The auld guidman raught down the pock,
+      An' out a' handfu' gied him;
+    Syne bad him slip frae 'mang the folk,
+      Sometime when nae ane see'd him,
+                      An' try't that night.
+
+    He marches thro' amang the stacks,
+      Tho' he was something sturtin;
+    The graip he for a harrow taks,
+      An' haurls at his curpin;
+    An' ev'ry now an' then he says,
+      "Hemp-seed, I saw thee,
+    An' her that is to be my lass,
+      Come after me, an' draw thee
+                      As fast that night."
+
+    He whistl'd up Lord Lennox' march,
+      To keep his courage cheery;
+    Altho' his hair began to arch,
+      He was sae fley'd an' eerie;
+    'Till presently he hears a squeak,
+      An' then a grane an' gruntle;
+    He by his shouther gae a keek,
+      An' tumbl'd wi' a wintle
+                      Out-owre that night.
+
+    He roar'd a horrid murder-shout,
+      In dreadfu' desperation!
+    An' young an' auld cam rinnin' out,
+      An' hear the sad narration;
+    He swoor 'twas hilchin Jean M'Craw,
+      Or crouchie Merran Humphie,
+    'Till, stop! she trotted thro' them a';
+      An' wha was it but Grumphie
+                      Asteer that night!
+
+    Meg fain wad to the barn hae gaen,
+      To win three wechts o' naething;[39]
+    But for to meet the deil her lane,
+      She pat but little faith in:
+    She gies the herd a pickle nits,
+      An' twa red cheekit apples,
+    To watch, while for the barn she sets,
+      In hopes to see Tam Kipples
+                      That vera night.
+
+    She turns the key wi' cannie thraw,
+      An' owre the threshold ventures;
+    But first on Sawnie gies a ca',
+      Syne bauldly in she enters:
+    A ratton rattled up the wa',
+      An' she cried, L--d preserve her!
+    An' ran thro' midden-hole an' a',
+      An' pray'd wi' zeal and fervour,
+                      Fu' fast that night.
+
+    They hoy't out Will, wi sair advice;
+      They hecht him some fine braw ane;
+    It chanc'd the stack he faddom't thrice,[40]
+      Was timmer-propt for thrawin';
+    He taks a swirlie auld moss-oak,
+      For some black, grousome carlin;
+    An' loot a winze, an' drew a stroke,
+      'Till skin in blypes cam haurlin'
+                      Aff's nieves that night.
+
+    A wanton widow Leezie was,
+      As canty as a kittlin;
+    But, och! that night, amang the shaws,
+      She got a fearfu' settlin'!
+    She thro' the whins, an' by the cairn,
+      An' owre the hill gaed scrievin,
+    Whare three lairds' lands met at a burn,[41]
+      To dip her left sark-sleeve in,
+                      Was bent that night.
+
+    Whyles owre a linn the burnie plays,
+      As through the glen it wimpl't;
+    Whyles round a rocky scaur it strays,
+      Whyles in a wiel it dimpl't;
+    Whyles glitter'd to the nightly rays,
+      Wi' bickering, dancing dazzle;
+    Whyles cookit underneath the braes,
+      Below the spreading hazel,
+                      Unseen that night.
+
+    Amang the brackens on the brae,
+      Between her an' the moon,
+    The deil, or else an outler quey,
+      Gat up an' gae a croon:
+    Poor Leezie's heart maist lap the hool!
+      Near lav'rock-height she jumpit,
+    But mist a fit, an' in the pool
+      Out-owre the lugs she plumpit,
+                      Wi' a plunge that night.
+
+    In order, on the clean hearth-stane,
+      The luggies three[42] are ranged,
+    And ev'ry time great care is ta'en,
+      To see them duly changed:
+    Auld uncle John, wha wedlock's joys
+      Sin Mar's-year did desire,
+    Because he gat the toom-dish thrice,
+      He heav'd them on the fire
+                      In wrath that night.
+
+    Wi' merry sangs, and friendly cracks,
+      I wat they did na weary;
+    An' unco tales, an' funnie jokes,
+      Their sports were cheap an' cheery;
+    Till butter'd so'ns[43] wi' fragrant lunt,
+      Set a' their gabs a-steerin';
+    Syne, wi' a social glass o' strunt,
+      They parted aff careerin'
+                      Fu' blythe that night.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 28: Is thought to be a night when witches, devils, and other
+mischief-making beings are all abroad on their baneful midnight errands:
+particularly those aerial people, the Fairies, are said on that night to
+hold a grand anniversary.]
+
+[Footnote 29: Certain little, romantic, rocky green hills, in the
+neighbourhood of the ancient seat of the Earls of Cassilis.]
+
+[Footnote 30: A noted cavern near Colean-house, called the Cove of
+Colean which, as well as Cassilis Downans, is famed in country story
+for being a favourite haunt of fairies.]
+
+[Footnote 31: The famous family of that name, the ancestors of Robert,
+the great deliverer of his country, were Earls of Carrick.]
+
+[Footnote 32: The first ceremony of Halloween is pulling each a stock,
+or plant of kail. They must go out, hand-in-hand, with eyes shut, and
+pull the first they meet with: its being big or little, straight or
+crooked, is prophetic of the size and shape of the grand object of all
+their spells--the husband or wife. If any yird, or earth, stick to the
+root, that is tocher, or fortune; and the taste of the custoc, that
+is, the heart of the stem, is indicative of the natural temper and
+disposition. Lastly, the stems, or, to give them their ordinary
+appellation, the runts, are placed somewhere above the head of the
+door; and the Christian names of the people whom chance brings into
+the house are, according to the priority of placing the runts, the
+names in question.]
+
+[Footnote 33: They go to the barn-yard, and pull each at three several
+times, a stalk of oats. If the third stalk wants the top-pickle, that
+is, the grain at the top of the stalk, the party in question will come
+to the marriage-bed anything but a maid.]
+
+[Footnote 34: When the corn is in a doubtful state, by being too green
+or wet, the stack-builder, by means of old timber, &c., makes a large
+apartment in his stack, with an opening in the side which is fairest
+exposed to the wind: this he calls a fause-house.]
+
+[Footnote 35: Burning the nuts is a famous charm. They name the lad and
+lass to each particular nut, as they lay them in the fire, and
+according as they burn quietly together, or start from beside one
+another, the course and issue of the courtship will be.]
+
+[Footnote 36: Whoever would, with success, try this spell, must
+strictly observe these directions: Steal out, all alone, to the kiln,
+and, darkling, throw into the pot a clue of blue yarn; wind it in a
+clue off the old one; and towards the latter end, something will hold
+the thread; demand "wha hauds?" i.e. who holds? an answer will be
+returned from the kiln-pot, naming the Christian and surname of your
+future spouse.]
+
+[Footnote 37: Take a candle, and go alone to a looking-glass; eat an
+apple before it, and some traditions say, you should comb your hair
+all the time; the face of your conjugal companion, to be, will be seen
+in the glass, as if peeping over your shoulder.]
+
+[Footnote 38: Steal out unperceived, and sow a handful of hemp-seed,
+harrowing it with anything you can conveniently draw after you.
+Repeat, now and then, "Hemp-seed, I saw thee; hemp-seed, I saw thee;
+and him (or her) that is to be my true love, come after me and pou
+thee." Look over your left shoulder, and you will see the appearance
+of the person invoked, in the attitude of pulling hemp. Some
+traditions say, "Come after me, and shaw thee," that is, show thyself;
+in which case it simply appears. Others omit the harrowing, and say,
+"Come after me, and harrow thee."]
+
+[Footnote 39: This charm must likewise be performed, unperceived, and
+alone. You go to the barn, and open both doors, taking them off the
+hinges, if possible; for there is danger that the being about to
+appear may shut the doors and do you some mischief. Then take that
+instrument used in winnowing the corn, which, in our country dialect,
+we call a wecht; and go through all the attitudes of letting down corn
+against the wind. Repeat it three times; and the third time, an
+apparition will pass through the barn, in at the windy door, and out
+at the other, having both the figure in question, and the appearance
+or retinue marking the employment or station in life.]
+
+[Footnote 40: Take an opportunity of going unnoticed, to a bean stack,
+and fathom it three times round. The last fathom of the last time, you
+will catch in your arms the appearance of your future conjugal
+yoke-fellow.]
+
+[Footnote 41: You go out, one or more, for this is a social spell, to a
+south running spring or rivulet, where "three lairds' lands meet," and
+dip your left shirt-sleeve. Go to bed in sight of a fire, and hang
+your wet sleeve before it to dry. Lie awake: and, some time near
+midnight, an apparition having the exact figure of the grand object in
+question, will come and turn the sleeve, as if to dry the other side
+of it.]
+
+[Footnote 42: Take three dishes: put clean water in one, foul water in
+another, and leave the third empty; blindfold a person and lead him to
+the hearth where the dishes are ranged; he (or she) dips the left
+hand: if by chance in the clean water, the future husband or wife will
+come to the bar of matrimony a maid; if in the foul, a widow; if in
+the empty dish, it foretells, with equal certainty, no marriage at
+all. It is repeated three times, and every time the arrangement of the
+dishes is altered.]
+
+[Footnote 43: Sowens, with butter instead of milk to them, is always
+the Halloween supper.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXVI.
+
+MAN WAS MADE TO MOURN.
+
+A DIRGE.
+
+[The origin of this fine poem is alluded to by Burns in one of his
+letters to Mrs. Dunlop: "I had an old grand-uncle with whom my mother
+lived in her girlish years: the good old man was long blind ere he
+died, during which time his highest enjoyment was to sit and cry,
+while my mother would sing the simple old song of 'The Life and Age of
+Man.'" From that truly venerable woman, long after the death of her
+distinguished son, Cromek, in collecting the Reliques, obtained a copy
+by recitation of the older strain. Though the tone and sentiment
+coincide closely with "Man was made to Mourn," I agree with Lockhart,
+that Burns wrote it in obedience to his own habitual feelings.]
+
+
+    When chill November's surly blast
+      Made fields and forests bare,
+    One ev'ning as I wandered forth
+      Along the banks of Ayr,
+    I spy'd a man whose aged step
+      Seem'd weary, worn with care;
+    His face was furrow'd o'er with years,
+      And hoary was his hair.
+
+    "Young stranger, whither wand'rest thou?"
+      Began the rev'rend sage;
+    "Does thirst of wealth thy step constrain,
+      Or youthful pleasure's rage?
+    Or haply, prest with cares and woes,
+      Too soon thou hast began
+    To wander forth, with me to mourn
+      The miseries of man.
+
+    "The sun that overhangs yon moors,
+      Out-spreading far and wide,
+    Where hundreds labour to support
+      A haughty lordling's pride:
+    I've seen yon weary winter-sun
+      Twice forty times return,
+    And ev'ry time had added proofs
+      That man was made to mourn.
+
+    "O man! while in thy early years,
+      How prodigal of time!
+    Misspending all thy precious hours,
+      Thy glorious youthful prime!
+    Alternate follies take the sway;
+      Licentious passions burn;
+    Which tenfold force gives nature's law,
+      That man was made to mourn.
+
+    "Look not alone on youthful prime,
+      Or manhood's active might;
+    Man then is useful to his kind,
+      Supported in his right:
+    But see him on the edge of life,
+      With cares and sorrows worn;
+    Then age and want--oh! ill-match'd pair!--
+      Show man was made to mourn.
+
+    "A few seem favorites of fate,
+      In pleasure's lap carest:
+    Yet, think not all the rich and great
+      Are likewise truly blest.
+    But, oh! what crowds in every land,
+      All wretched and forlorn!
+    Thro' weary life this lesson learn--
+      That man was made to mourn.
+
+    "Many and sharp the num'rous ills
+      Inwoven with our frame!
+    More pointed still we make ourselves,
+      Regret, remorse, and shame!
+    And man, whose heaven-erected face
+      The smiles of love adorn,
+    Man's inhumanity to man
+      Makes countless thousands mourn!
+
+    "See yonder poor, o'erlabour'd wight,
+      So abject, mean, and vile,
+    Who begs a brother of the earth
+      To give him leave to toil;
+    And see his lordly fellow-worm
+      The poor petition spurn,
+    Unmindful, though a weeping wife
+      And helpless offspring mourn.
+
+    "If I'm design'd yon lordling's slave--
+      By Nature's law design'd--
+    Why was an independent wish
+      E'er planted in my mind?
+    If not, why am I subject to
+      His cruelty or scorn?
+    Or why has man the will and power
+      To make his fellow mourn?
+
+    "Yet, let not this too much, my son,
+      Disturb thy youthful breast;
+    This partial view of human-kind
+      Is surely not the best!
+    The poor, oppressed, honest man
+      Had never, sure, been born,
+    Had there not been some recompense
+      To comfort those that mourn!
+
+    "O Death! the poor man's dearest friend--
+      The kindest and the best!
+    Welcome the hour, my aged limbs
+      Are laid with thee at rest!
+    The great, the wealthy, fear thy blow,
+      From pomp and pleasure torn!
+    But, oh! a blest relief to those
+      That weary-laden mourn."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXVII.
+
+TO RUIN.
+
+["I have been," says Burns, in his common-place book, "taking a peep
+through, as Young finely says, 'The dark postern of time long
+elapsed.' 'Twas a rueful prospect! What a tissue of thoughtlessness,
+weakness, and folly! my life reminded me of a ruined temple. What
+strength, what proportion in some parts, what unsightly gaps, what
+prostrate ruins in others!" The fragment, To Ruin, seems to have had
+its origin in moments such as these.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    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-resolv'd, despairing eye,
+      I see each aimed dart;
+    For one has cut my dearest tie,
+      And quivers in my heart.
+        Then low'ring and pouring,
+          The storm no more I dread;
+        Though thick'ning and black'ning,
+          Round my devoted head.
+
+II.
+
+    And thou grim pow'r, by life abhorr'd,
+    While life a pleasure can afford,
+      Oh! hear a wretch's prayer!
+    No more I shrink appall'd, afraid;
+    I court, I beg thy friendly aid,
+      To close this scene of care!
+    When shall my soul, in silent peace,
+      Resign life's joyless day;
+    My weary heart its throbbings cease,
+      Cold mould'ring in the clay?
+        No fear more, no tear more,
+          To stain my lifeless face;
+        Enclasped, and grasped
+          Within thy cold embrace!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXVIII.
+
+TO
+
+JOHN GOUDIE OF KILMARNOCK.
+
+ON THE PUBLICATION OF HIS ESSAYS
+
+[This burning commentary, by Burns, on the Essays of Goudie in the
+Macgill controversy, was first published by Stewart, with the Jolly
+Beggars, in 1801; it is akin in life and spirit to Holy Willie's
+Prayer; and may be cited as a sample of the wit and the force which
+the poet brought to the great, but now forgotten, controversy of the
+West.]
+
+
+    O Goudie! terror of the Whigs,
+    Dread of black coats and rev'rend wigs,
+    Sour Bigotry, on her last legs,
+                      Girnin', looks back,
+    Wishin' the ten Egyptian plagues
+                      Wad seize you quick.
+
+    Poor gapin', glowrin' Superstition,
+    Waes me! she's in a sad condition:
+    Fie! bring Black Jock, her state physician,
+                      To see her water:
+    Alas! there's ground o' great suspicion
+                      She'll ne'er get better.
+
+    Auld Orthodoxy lang did grapple,
+    But now she's got an unco ripple;
+    Haste, gie her name up i' the chapel,
+                      Nigh unto death;
+    See, how she fetches at the thrapple,
+                      An' gasps for breath.
+
+    Enthusiasm's past redemption,
+    Gaen in a gallopin' consumption,
+    Not a' the quacks, wi' a' their gumption,
+                      Will ever mend her.
+    Her feeble pulse gies strong presumption
+                      Death soon will end her.
+
+    'Tis you and Taylor[44] are the chief,
+    Wha are to blame for this mischief,
+    But gin the Lord's ain focks gat leave,
+                      A toom tar-barrel,
+    An' twa red peats wad send relief,
+                      An' end the quarrel.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 44: Dr. Taylor, of Norwich.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXIX.
+
+TO
+
+J. LAPRAIK.
+
+AN OLD SCOTTISH BARD.
+
+_April 1st, 1785._
+
+(FIRST EPISTLE.)
+
+["The epistle to John Lapraik," says Gilbert Burns, "was produced
+exactly on the occasion described by the author. Rocking is a term
+derived from primitive times, when our country-women employed their
+spare hours in spinning on the roke or distaff. This simple instrument
+is a very portable one; and well fitted to the social inclination of
+meeting in a neighbour's house; hence the phrase of going a rocking,
+or with the roke. As the connexion the phrase had with the implement
+was forgotten when the roke gave place to the spinning-wheel, the
+phrase came to be used by both sexes on social occasions, and men talk
+of going with their rokes as well as women."]
+
+
+    While briers an' woodbines budding green,
+    An' paitricks scraichin' loud at e'en,
+    An' morning poussie whidden seen,
+                      Inspire my muse,
+    This freedom in an unknown frien'
+                      I pray excuse.
+
+    On Fasten-een we had a rockin',
+    To ca' the crack and weave our stockin',
+    And there was muckle fun an' jokin',
+                      Ye need na doubt;
+    At length we had a hearty yokin'
+                      At sang about.
+
+    There was ae sang, amang the rest,
+    Aboon them a' it pleas'd me best,
+    That some kind husband had addrest
+                      To some sweet wife;
+    It thirl'd the heart-strings thro' the breast,
+                      A' to the life.
+
+    I've scarce heard aught describ'd sae weel,
+    What gen'rous manly bosoms feel,
+    Thought I, "Can this be Pope or Steele,
+                      Or Beattie's wark?"
+    They told me 'twas an odd kind chiel
+                      About Muirkirk.
+
+    It pat me fidgin-fain to hear't,
+    And sae about him there I spier't,
+    Then a' that ken't him round declar'd
+                      He had injine,
+    That, nane excell'd it, few cam near't,
+                      It was sae fine.
+
+    That, set him to a pint of ale,
+    An' either douce or merry tale,
+    Or rhymes an' sangs he'd made himsel',
+                      Or witty catches,
+    'Tween Inverness and Tiviotdale,
+                      He had few matches.
+
+    Then up I gat, an' swoor an aith,
+    Tho' I should pawn my pleugh and graith,
+    Or die a cadger pownie's death
+                      At some dyke-back,
+    A pint an' gill I'd gie them baith
+                      To hear your crack.
+
+    But, first an' foremost, I should tell,
+    Amaist as soon as I could spell,
+    I to the crambo-jingle fell,
+                      Tho' rude an' rough,
+    Yet crooning to a body's sel',
+                      Does weel eneugh.
+
+    I am nae poet in a sense,
+    But just a rhymer, like, by chance,
+    An' hae to learning nae pretence,
+                      Yet what the matter?
+    Whene'er my Muse does on me glance,
+                      I jingle at her.
+
+    Your critic-folk may cock their nose,
+    And say, "How can you e'er propose,
+    You, wha ken hardly verse frae prose,
+                      To mak a sang?"
+    But, by your leaves, my learned foes,
+                      Ye're may-be wrang.
+
+    What's a' your jargon o' your schools,
+    Your Latin names for horns an' stools;
+    If honest nature made you fools,
+                      What sairs your grammars?
+    Ye'd better taen up spades and shools,
+                      Or knappin-hammers.
+
+    A set o' dull, conceited hashes,
+    Confuse their brains in college classes!
+    They gang in stirks and come out asses,
+                      Plain truth to speak;
+    An' syne they think to climb Parnassus
+                      By dint o' Greek!
+
+    Gie me ae spark o' Nature's fire!
+    That's a' the learning I desire;
+    Then though I drudge thro' dub an' mire
+                      At pleugh or cart,
+    My muse, though hamely in attire,
+                      May touch the heart.
+
+    O for a spunk o' Allan's glee,
+    Or Fergusson's, the bauld and slee,
+    Or bright Lapraik's, my friend to be,
+                      If I can hit it!
+    That would be lear eneugh for me,
+                      If I could get it.
+
+    Now, sir, if ye hae friends enow,
+    Tho' real friends, I b'lieve, are few,
+    Yet, if your catalogue be fou,
+                      I'se no insist,
+    But gif ye want ae friend that's true--
+                      I'm on your list.
+
+    I winna blaw about mysel;
+    As ill I like my fauts to tell;
+    But friends an' folk that wish me well,
+                      They sometimes roose me;
+    Tho' I maun own, as monie still
+                      As far abuse me.
+
+    There's ae wee faut they whiles lay to me,
+    I like the lasses--Gude forgie me!
+    For monie a plack they wheedle frae me,
+                      At dance or fair;
+    May be some ither thing they gie me
+                      They weel can spare.
+
+    But Mauchline race, or Mauchline fair;
+    I should be proud to meet you there!
+    We'se gie ae night's discharge to care,
+                      If we forgather,
+    An' hae a swap o' rhymin'-ware
+                      Wi' ane anither.
+
+    The four-gill chap, we'se gar him clatter,
+    An' kirsen him wi' reekin' water;
+    Syne we'll sit down an' tak our whitter,
+                      To cheer our heart;
+    An' faith, we'se be acquainted better,
+                      Before we part.
+
+    Awa, ye selfish, warly race,
+    Wha think that havins, sense, an' grace,
+    Ev'n love an' friendship, should give place
+                      To catch-the-plack!
+    I dinna like to see your face,
+                      Nor hear your crack.
+
+    But ye whom social pleasure charms,
+    Whose hearts the tide of kindness warms,
+    Who hold your being on the terms,
+                      "Each aid the others,"
+    Come to my bowl, come to my arms,
+                      My friends, my brothers!
+
+    But, to conclude my lang epistle,
+    As my auld pen's worn to the grissle;
+    Twa lines frae you wad gar me fissle,
+                      Who am, most fervent,
+    While I can either sing or whissle,
+                      Your friend and servant.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXX.
+
+To
+
+J. LAPRAIK.
+
+(SECOND EPISTLE.)
+
+[The John Lapraik to whom these epistles are addressed lived at
+Dalfram in the neighbourhood of Muirkirk, and was a rustic worshipper
+of the Muse: he unluckily, however, involved himself in that Western
+bubble, the Ayr Bank, and consoled himself by composing in his
+distress that song which moved the heart of Burns, beginning
+
+    "When I upon thy bosom lean."
+
+He afterwards published a volume of verse, of a quality which proved
+that the inspiration in his song of domestic sorrow was no settled
+power of soul.]
+
+
+_April 21st_, 1785.
+
+    While new-ca'd ky, rowte at the stake,
+    An' pownies reek in pleugh or braik,
+    This hour on e'enin's edge I take
+                      To own I'm debtor,
+    To honest-hearted, auld Lapraik,
+                      For his kind letter.
+
+    Forjesket sair, wi' weary legs,
+    Rattlin' the corn out-owre the rigs,
+    Or dealing thro' amang the naigs
+                      Their ten hours' bite,
+    My awkart muse sair pleads and begs,
+                      I would na write.
+
+    The tapetless ramfeezl'd hizzie,
+    She's saft at best, and something lazy,
+    Quo' she, "Ye ken, we've been sae busy,
+                      This month' an' mair,
+    That trouth, my head is grown right dizzie,
+                      An' something sair."
+
+    Her dowff excuses pat me mad:
+    "Conscience," says I, "ye thowless jad!
+    I'll write, an' that a hearty blaud,
+                      This vera night;
+    So dinna ye affront your trade,
+                      But rhyme it right.
+
+    "Shall bauld Lapraik, the king o' hearts,
+    Tho' mankind were a pack o' cartes,
+    Roose you sae weel for your deserts,
+                      In terms sae friendly,
+    Yet ye'll neglect to show your parts,
+                      An' thank him kindly?"
+
+    Sae I gat paper in a blink
+    An' down gaed stumpie in the ink:
+    Quoth I, "Before I sleep a wink,
+                      I vow I'll close it;
+    An' if ye winna mak it clink,
+                      By Jove I'll prose it!"
+
+    Sae I've begun to scrawl, but whether
+    In rhyme or prose, or baith thegither,
+    Or some hotch-potch that's rightly neither,
+                      Let time mak proof;
+    But I shall scribble down some blether
+                      Just clean aff-loof.
+
+    My worthy friend, ne'er grudge an' carp,
+    Tho' fortune use you hard an' sharp;
+    Come, kittle up your moorland-harp
+                      Wi' gleesome touch!
+    Ne'er mind how fortune waft an' warp;
+                      She's but a b--tch.
+
+    She's gien me monie a jirt an' fleg,
+    Sin' I could striddle owre a rig;
+    But, by the L--d, tho' I should beg
+                      Wi' lyart pow,
+    I'll laugh, an' sing, an' shake my leg,
+                      As lang's I dow!
+
+    Now comes the sax an' twentieth simmer,
+    I've seen the bud upo' the timmer,
+    Still persecuted by the limmer
+                      Frae year to year;
+    But yet despite the kittle kimmer,
+                      I, Rob, am here.
+
+    Do ye envy the city gent,
+    Behint a kist to lie and sklent,
+    Or purse-proud, big wi' cent. per cent.
+                      And muckle wame,
+    In some bit brugh to represent
+                      A bailie's name?
+
+    Or is't the paughty, feudal Thane,
+    Wi' ruffl'd sark an' glancing cane,
+    Wha thinks himsel nae sheep-shank bane,
+                      But lordly stalks,
+    While caps and bonnets aff are taen,
+                      As by he walks!
+
+    "O Thou wha gies us each guid gift!
+    Gie me o' wit an' sense a lift,
+    Then turn me, if Thou please, adrift,
+                      Thro' Scotland wide;
+    Wi' cits nor lairds I wadna shift,
+                      In a' their pride!"
+
+    Were this the charter of our state,
+    "On pain' o' hell be rich an' great,"
+    Damnation then would be our fate,
+                      Beyond remead;
+    But, thanks to Heav'n, that's no the gate
+                      We learn our creed.
+
+    For thus the royal mandate ran,
+    When first the human race began,
+    "The social, friendly, honest man,
+                      Whate'er he be,
+    'Tis he fulfils great Nature's plan,
+                      An' none but he!"
+
+    O mandate, glorious and divine!
+    The followers o' the ragged Nine,
+    Poor thoughtless devils! yet may shine
+                      In glorious light,
+    While sordid sons o' Mammon's line
+                      Are dark as night.
+
+    Tho' here they scrape, an' squeeze, an' growl,
+    Their worthless nievfu' of a soul
+    May in some future carcase howl
+                      The forest's fright;
+    Or in some day-detesting owl
+                      May shun the light.
+
+    Then may Lapraik and Burns arise,
+    To reach their native kindred skies,
+    And sing their pleasures, hopes, an' joys,
+                      In some mild sphere,
+    Still closer knit in friendship's ties
+                      Each passing year!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXXI.
+
+TO
+
+J. LAPRAIK.
+
+(THIRD EPISTLE.)
+
+[I have heard one of our most distinguished English poets recite with
+a sort of ecstasy some of the verses of these epistles, and praise the
+ease of the language and the happiness of the thoughts. He averred,
+however, that the poet, when pinched for a word, hesitated not to coin
+one, and instanced, "tapetless," "ramfeezled," and "forjesket," as
+intrusions in our dialect. These words seem indeed, to some Scotchmen,
+strange and uncouth, but they are true words of the west.]
+
+
+_Sept._ 13th, 1785.
+
+    Guid speed an' furder to you, Johnny,
+    Guid health, hale han's, an' weather bonny;
+    Now when ye're nickan down fu' canny
+                      The staff o' bread,
+    May ye ne'er want a stoup o' bran'y
+                      To clear your head.
+
+    May Boreas never thresh your rigs,
+    Nor kick your rickles aff their legs,
+    Sendin' the stuff o'er muirs an' haggs
+                      Like drivin' wrack;
+    But may the tapmast grain that wags
+                      Come to the sack.
+
+    I'm bizzie too, an' skelpin' at it,
+    But bitter, daudin' showers hae wat it,
+    Sae my auld stumpie pen I gat it
+                      Wi' muckle wark,
+    An' took my jocteleg an' whatt it,
+                      Like ony clark.
+
+    It's now twa month that I'm your debtor
+    For your braw, nameless, dateless letter,
+    Abusin' me for harsh ill nature
+                      On holy men,
+    While deil a hair yoursel' ye're better,
+                      But mair profane.
+
+    But let the kirk-folk ring their bells,
+    Let's sing about our noble sel's;
+    We'll cry nae jads frae heathen hills
+                      To help, or roose us,
+    But browster wives an' whiskey stills,
+                      They are the muses.
+
+    Your friendship, Sir, I winna quat it
+    An' if ye mak' objections at it,
+    Then han' in nieve some day we'll knot it,
+                      An' witness take,
+    An' when wi' Usquabae we've wat it
+                      It winna break.
+
+    But if the beast and branks be spar'd
+    Till kye be gaun without the herd,
+    An' a' the vittel in the yard,
+                      An' theekit right,
+    I mean your ingle-side to guard
+                      Ae winter night.
+
+    Then muse-inspirin' aqua-vitae
+    Shall make us baith sae blythe an' witty,
+    Till ye forget ye're auld an' gatty,
+                      An' be as canty,
+    As ye were nine year less than thretty,
+                      Sweet ane an' twenty!
+
+    But stooks are cowpet wi' the blast,
+    An' now the sin keeks in the west,
+    Then I maun rin amang the rest
+                      An' quat my chanter;
+    Sae I subscribe myself in haste,
+                      Yours, Rab the Ranter.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXXII.
+
+TO
+
+WILLIAM SIMPSON,
+
+OCHILTREE.
+
+[The person to whom this epistle is addressed, was schoolmaster of
+Ochiltree, and afterwards of New Lanark: he was a writer of verses
+too, like many more of the poet's comrades;--of verses which rose not
+above the barren level of mediocrity: "one of his poems," says
+Chambers, "was a laughable elegy on the death of the Emperor Paul." In
+his verses to Burns, under the name of a Tailor, there is nothing to
+laugh at, though they are intended to be laughable as well as
+monitory.]
+
+
+_May, 1785._
+
+    I gat your letter, winsome Willie;
+    Wi' gratefu' heart I thank you brawlie;
+    Tho' I maun say't, I wad be silly,
+                      An' unco vain,
+    Should I believe, my coaxin' billie,
+                      Your flatterin' strain.
+
+    But I'se believe ye kindly meant it,
+    I sud be laith to think ye hinted
+    Ironic satire, sidelins sklented
+                      On my poor Musie;
+    Tho' in sic phraisin' terms ye've penn'd it,
+                      I scarce excuse ye.
+
+    My senses wad be in a creel,
+    Should I but dare a hope to speel,
+    Wi' Allan, or wi' Gilbertfield,
+                      The braes o' fame;
+    Or Fergusson, the writer chiel,
+                      A deathless name.
+
+    (O Fergusson! thy glorious parts
+    Ill suited law's dry, musty arts!
+    My curse upon your whunstane hearts,
+                      Ye Enbrugh gentry!
+    The tythe o' what ye waste at cartes
+                      Wad stow'd his pantry!)
+
+    Yet when a tale comes i' my head,
+    Or lasses gie my heart a screed,
+    As whiles they're like to be my dead
+                      (O sad disease!)
+    I kittle up my rustic reed,
+                      It gies me ease.
+
+    Auld Coila, now, may fidge fu' fain,
+    She's gotten poets o' her ain,
+    Chiels wha their chanters winna hain,
+                      But tune their lays,
+    Till echoes a' resound again
+                      Her weel-sung praise.
+
+    Nae poet thought her worth his while,
+    To set her name in measur'd stile;
+    She lay like some unkenn'd-of isle
+                      Beside New-Holland,
+    Or whare wild-meeting oceans boil
+                      Besouth Magellan.
+
+    Ramsay an' famous Fergusson
+    Gied Forth and Tay a lift aboon;
+    Yarrow an' Tweed, to monie a tune,
+                      Owre Scotland rings,
+    While Irwin, Lugar, Ayr, an' Doon,
+                      Nae body sings.
+
+    Th' Ilissus, Tiber, Thames, an' Seine,
+    Glide sweet in monie a tunefu' line!
+    But, Willie, set your fit to mine,
+                      An' cock your crest,
+    We'll gar our streams an' burnies shine
+                      Up wi' the best.
+
+    We'll sing auld Coila's plains an' fells,
+    Her moor's red-brown wi' heather bells,
+    Her banks an' braes, her dens an' dells,
+                      Where glorious Wallace
+    Aft bure the gree, as story tells,
+                      Frae southron billies.
+
+    At Wallace' name, what Scottish blood
+    But boils up in a spring-tide flood!
+    Oft have our fearless fathers strode
+                      By Wallace' side,
+    Still pressing onward, red-wat shod,
+                      Or glorious dy'd.
+
+    O sweet are Coila's haughs an' woods,
+    When lintwhites chant amang the buds,
+    And jinkin' hares, in amorous whids
+                      Their loves enjoy,
+    While thro' the braes the cushat croods
+                      With wailfu' cry!
+
+    Ev'n winter bleak has charms to me
+    When winds rave thro' the naked tree;
+    Or frosts on hills of Ochiltree
+                      Are hoary gray:
+    Or blinding drifts wild-furious flee,
+                      Dark'ning the day.
+
+    O Nature! a' thy shews an' forms
+    To feeling, pensive hearts hae charms!
+    Whether the summer kindly warms,
+                      Wi' life an' light,
+    Or winter howls, in gusty storms,
+                      The lang, dark night!
+
+    The muse, nae Poet ever fand her,
+    'Till by himsel' he learn'd to wander,
+    Adown some trotting burn's meander,
+                      An' no think lang;
+    O sweet, to stray an' pensive ponder
+                      A heart-felt sang!
+
+    The warly race may drudge an' drive,
+    Hog-shouther, jundie, stretch an' strive,
+    Let me fair Nature's face descrive,
+                      And I, wi' pleasure,
+    Shall let the busy, grumbling hive
+                      Bum owre their treasure.
+
+    Fareweel, my "rhyme-composing brither!"
+    We've been owre lang unkenn'd to ither:
+    Now let us lay our heads thegither,
+                      In love fraternal;
+    May envy wallop in a tether,
+                      Black fiend, infernal!
+
+    While Highlandmen hate tolls an' taxes;
+    While moorlan' herds like guid fat braxies;
+    While terra firma, on her axes
+                      Diurnal turns,
+    Count on a friend, in faith an' practice,
+                      In Robert Burns.
+
+POSTSCRIPT
+
+    My memory's no worth a preen:
+    I had amaist forgotten clean,
+    Ye bade me write you what they mean,
+                      By this New Light,
+    'Bout which our herds sae aft hae been,
+                      Maist like to fight.
+
+    In days when mankind were but callans,
+    At grammar, logic, an' sic talents,
+    They took nae pains their speech to balance,
+                      Or rules to gie,
+    But spak their thoughts in plain, braid Lallans,
+                      Like you or me.
+
+    In thae auld times, they thought the moon,
+    Just like a sark, or pair o' shoon,
+    Wore by degrees, 'till her last roon,
+                      Gaed past their viewing,
+    An' shortly after she was done,
+                      They gat a new one.
+
+    This past for certain--undisputed;
+    It ne'er cam i' their heads to doubt it,
+    'Till chiels gat up an' wad confute it,
+                      An' ca'd it wrang;
+    An' muckle din there was about it,
+                      Baith loud an' lang.
+
+    Some herds, weel learn'd upo' the beuk,
+    Wad threap auld folk the thing misteuk;
+    For 'twas the auld moon turned a neuk,
+                      An' out o' sight,
+    An' backlins-comin', to the leuk,
+                      She grew mair bright.
+
+    This was deny'd, it was affirm'd;
+    The herds an' hissels were alarm'd:
+    The rev'rend gray-beards rav'd and storm'd
+                      That beardless laddies
+    Should think they better were inform'd
+                      Than their auld daddies.
+
+    Frae less to mair it gaed to sticks;
+    Frae words an' aiths to clours an' nicks,
+    An' monie a fallow gat his licks,
+                      Wi' hearty crunt;
+    An' some, to learn them for their tricks,
+                      Were hang'd an' brunt.
+
+    This game was play'd in monie lands,
+    An' Auld Light caddies bure sic hands,
+    That, faith, the youngsters took the sands
+                      Wi' nimble shanks,
+    'Till lairds forbade, by strict commands,
+                      Sic bluidy pranks.
+
+    But New Light herds gat sic a cowe,
+    Folk thought them ruin'd stick-an'-stowe,
+    Till now amaist on every knowe,
+                      Ye'll find ane plac'd;
+    An' some their New Light fair avow,
+                      Just quite barefac'd.
+
+    Nae doubt the Auld Light flocks are bleatin';
+    Their zealous herds are vex'd an' sweatin':
+    Mysel', I've even seen them greetin'
+                      Wi' girnin' spite,
+    To hear the moon sae sadly lie'd on
+                      By word an' write.
+
+    But shortly they will cowe the loons;
+    Some Auld Light herds in neibor towns
+    Are mind't in things they ca' balloons,
+                      To tak a flight,
+    An' stay ae month amang the moons
+                      And see them right.
+
+    Guid observation they will gie them:
+    An' when the auld moon's gaun to lea'e them,
+    The hindmost shaird, they'll fetch it wi' them,
+                      Just i' their pouch,
+    An' when the New Light billies see them,
+                      I think they'll crouch!
+
+    Sae, ye observe that a' this clatter
+    Is naething but a "moonshine matter;"
+    But tho' dull prose-folk Latin splatter
+                      In logic tulzie,
+    I hope we bardies ken some better
+                      Than mind sic brulzie.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXXIII.
+
+ADDRESS
+
+TO AN
+
+ILLEGITIMATE CHILD.
+
+[This hasty and not very decorous effusion, was originally entitled
+"The Poet's Welcome; or, Rab the Rhymer's Address to his Bastard
+Child." A copy, with the more softened, but less expressive title, was
+published by Stewart, in 1801, and is alluded to by Burns himself, in
+his biographical letter to Moore. "Bonnie Betty," the mother of the
+"sonsie-smirking, dear-bought Bess," of the Inventory, lived in
+Largieside: to support this daughter the poet made over the copyright
+of his works when he proposed to go to the West Indies. She lived to
+be a woman, and to marry one John Bishop, overseer at Polkemmet, where
+she died in 1817. It is said she resembled Burns quite as much as any
+of the rest of his children.]
+
+
+    Thou's welcome, wean, mischanter fa' me,
+    If ought of thee, or of thy mammy,
+    Shall ever daunton me, or awe me,
+                      My sweet wee lady,
+    Or if I blush when thou shalt ca' me
+                      Tit-ta or daddy.
+
+    Wee image of my bonny Betty,
+    I, fatherly, will kiss and daut thee,
+    As dear and near my heart I set thee
+                      Wi' as gude will
+    As a' the priests had seen me get thee
+                      That's out o' hell.
+
+    What tho' they ca' me fornicator,
+    An' tease my name in kintry clatter:
+    The mair they talk I'm kent the better,
+                      E'en let them clash;
+    An auld wife's tongue's a feckless matter
+                      To gie ane fash.
+
+    Sweet fruit o' mony a merry dint,
+    My funny toil is now a' tint,
+    Sin' thou came to the warl asklent,
+                      Which fools may scoff at;
+    In my last plack thy part's be in't
+                      The better ha'f o't.
+
+    An' if thou be what I wad hae thee,
+    An' tak the counsel I sall gie thee,
+    A lovin' father I'll be to thee,
+                      If thou be spar'd;
+    Thro' a' thy childish years I'll e'e thee,
+                      An' think't weel war'd.
+
+    Gude grant that thou may ay inherit
+    Thy mither's person, grace, an' merit,
+    An' thy poor worthless daddy's spirit,
+                      Without his failins;
+    'Twill please me mair to hear an' see it
+                      Than stocket mailens.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXXIV.
+
+NATURE'S LAW.
+
+A POEM HUMBLY INSCRIBED TO G. H. ESQ.
+
+    "Great nature spoke, observant man obey'd."
+Pope.
+
+[This Poem was written by Burns at Mossgiel, and "humbly inscribed to
+Gavin Hamilton, Esq." It is supposed to allude to his intercourse with
+Jean Armour, with the circumstances of which he seems to have made
+many of his comrades acquainted. These verses were well known to many
+of the admirers of the poet, but they remained in manuscript till
+given to the world by Sir Harris Nicolas, in Pickering's Aldine
+Edition of the British Poets.]
+
+
+    Let other heroes boast their scars,
+      The marks of sturt and strife;
+    And other poets sing of wars,
+      The plagues of human life;
+    Shame fa' the fun; wi' sword and gun
+      To slap mankind like lumber!
+    I sing his name, and nobler fame,
+      Wha multiplies our number.
+
+    Great Nature spoke with air benign,
+      "Go on, ye human race!
+    This lower world I you resign;
+      Be fruitful and increase.
+    The liquid fire of strong desire
+      I've pour'd it in each bosom;
+    Here, in this hand, does mankind stand,
+      And there, is beauty's blossom."
+
+    The hero of these artless strains,
+      A lowly bard was he,
+    Who sung his rhymes in Coila's plains
+      With meikle mirth an' glee;
+    Kind Nature's care had given his share,
+      Large, of the flaming current;
+    And all devout, he never sought
+      To stem the sacred torrent.
+
+    He felt the powerful, high behest,
+      Thrill vital through and through;
+    And sought a correspondent breast,
+      To give obedience due:
+    Propitious Powers screen'd the young flowers,
+      From mildews of abortion;
+    And lo! the bard, a great reward,
+      Has got a double portion!
+
+    Auld cantie Coil may count the day,
+      As annual it returns,
+    The third of Libra's equal sway,
+      That gave another B[urns],
+    With future rhymes, an' other times,
+      To emulate his sire;
+    To sing auld Coil in nobler style,
+      With more poetic fire.
+
+    Ye Powers of peace, and peaceful song,
+      Look down with gracious eyes;
+    And bless auld Coila, large and long,
+      With multiplying joys:
+    Lang may she stand to prop the land,
+      The flow'r of ancient nations;
+    And B[urns's] spring, her fame to sing,
+      Thro' endless generations!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXXV.
+
+TO THE REV. JOHN M'MATH.
+
+[Poor M'Math was at the period of this epistle assistant to Wodrow,
+minister of Tarbolton: he was a good preacher, a moderate man in
+matters of discipline, and an intimate of the Coilsfield Montgomerys.
+His dependent condition depressed his spirits: he grew dissipated; and
+finally, it is said, enlisted as a common soldier, and died in a
+foreign land.]
+
+
+_Sept. 17th, 1785._
+
+    While at the stook the shearers cow'r
+    To shun the bitter blaudin' show'r,
+    Or in gulravage rinnin' scow'r
+                      To pass the time,
+    To you I dedicate the hour
+                      In idle rhyme.
+
+    My musie, tir'd wi' mony a sonnet
+    On gown, an' ban', and douse black bonnet,
+    Is grown right eerie now she's done it,
+                      Lest they should blame her,
+    An' rouse their holy thunder on it
+                      And anathem her.
+
+    I own 'twas rash, an' rather hardy,
+    That I, a simple countra bardie,
+    Shou'd meddle wi' a pack sae sturdy,
+                      Wha, if they ken me,
+    Can easy, wi' a single wordie,
+                      Lowse hell upon me.
+
+    But I gae mad at their grimaces,
+    Their sighin' cantin' grace-proud faces,
+    Their three-mile prayers, and hauf-mile graces,
+                      Their raxin' conscience,
+    Whase greed, revenge, an' pride disgraces,
+                      Waur nor their nonsense.
+
+    There's Gaun,[45] miska't waur than a beast,
+    Wha has mair honour in his breast
+    Than mony scores as guid's the priest
+                      Wha sae abus't him.
+    An' may a bard no crack his jest
+                      What way they've use't him.
+
+    See him, the poor man's friend in need,
+    The gentleman in word an' deed,
+    An' shall his fame an' honour bleed
+                      By worthless skellums,
+    An' not a muse erect her head
+                      To cowe the blellums?
+
+    O Pope, had I thy satire's darts
+    To gie the rascals their deserts,
+    I'd rip their rotten, hollow hearts,
+                      An' tell aloud
+    Their jugglin' hocus-pocus arts
+                      To cheat the crowd.
+
+    God knows, I'm no the thing I shou'd be,
+    Nor am I even the thing I cou'd be,
+    But twenty times, I rather wou'd be
+                      An atheist clean,
+    Than under gospel colours hid be
+                      Just for a screen.
+
+    An honest man may like a glass,
+    An honest man may like a lass,
+    But mean revenge, an' malice fause
+                      He'll still disdain,
+    An' then cry zeal for gospel laws,
+                      Like some we ken.
+
+    They take religion in their mouth;
+    They talk o' mercy, grace, an' truth,
+    For what?--to gie their malice skouth
+                      On some puir wight,
+    An' hunt him down, o'er right, an' ruth,
+                      To ruin straight.
+
+    All hail, Religion! maid divine!
+    Pardon a muse sae mean as mine,
+    Who in her rough imperfect line,
+                      Thus daurs to name thee;
+    To stigmatize false friends of thine
+                      Can ne'er defame thee.
+
+    Tho' blotch'd an' foul wi' mony a stain,
+    An' far unworthy of thy train,
+    With trembling voice I tune my strain
+                      To join with those,
+    Who boldly daur thy cause maintain
+                      In spite o' foes:
+
+    In spite o' crowds, in spite o' mobs,
+    In spite of undermining jobs,
+    In spite o' dark banditti stabs
+                      At worth an' merit,
+    By scoundrels, even wi' holy robes,
+                      But hellish spirit.
+
+    O Ayr! my dear, my native ground,
+    Within thy presbyterial bound
+    A candid lib'ral band is found
+                      Of public teachers,
+    As men, as Christians too, renown'd,
+                      An' manly preachers.
+
+    Sir, in that circle you are nam'd;
+    Sir, in that circle you are fam'd;
+    An' some, by whom your doctrine's blam'd,
+                      (Which gies you honour,)
+    Even Sir, by them your heart's esteem'd,
+                      An' winning manner.
+
+    Pardon this freedom I have ta'en,
+    An' if impertinent I've been,
+    Impute it not, good Sir, in ane
+                      Whase heart ne'er wrang'd ye,
+    But to his utmost would befriend
+                      Ought that belang'd ye.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 45: Gavin Hamilton, Esq.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXXVI.
+
+TO A MOUSE,
+
+ON TURNING HER UP IN HER NEST WITH THE PLOUGH,
+
+NOVEMBER, 1785.
+
+[This beautiful poem was imagined while the poet was holding the
+plough, on the farm of Mossgiel: the field is still pointed out: and a
+man called Blane is still living, who says he was gaudsman to the bard
+at the time, and chased the mouse with the plough-pettle, for which he
+was rebuked by his young master, who inquired what harm the poor mouse
+had done him. In the night that followed, Burns awoke his gaudsman,
+who was in the same bed with him, recited the poem as it now stands,
+and said, "What think you of our mouse now?"]
+
+
+    Wee, sleekit, cow'rin', tim'rous beastie,
+    O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
+    Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
+                      Wi' bickering brattle!
+    I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee,
+                      Wi' murd'ring pattle!
+
+    I'm truly sorry man's dominion
+    Has broken nature's social union,
+    An' justifies that ill opinion,
+                      Which makes thee startle
+    At me, thy poor earth-born companion,
+                      An' fellow-mortal!
+
+    I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve;
+    What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
+    A daimen icker in a thrave
+                      'S a sma' request:
+    I'll get a blessin' wi' the lave,
+                      And never miss't!
+
+    Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin;
+    Its silly wa's the win's are strewin'!
+    An' naething, now, to big a new ane,
+                      O' foggage green!
+    An' bleak December's winds ensuin',
+                      Baith snell and keen!
+
+    Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste,
+    An' weary winter comin' fast,
+    An' cozie here, beneath the blast,
+                      Thou thought to dwell,
+    'Till, crash! the cruel coulter past
+                      Out thro' thy cell.
+
+    That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble,
+    Has cost thee mony a weary nibble!
+    Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble,
+                      But house or hald,
+    To thole the winter's sleety dribble,
+                      An' cranreuch cauld!
+
+    But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
+    In proving foresight may be vain:
+    The best laid schemes o' mice an' men,
+                      Gang aft a-gley,
+    An' lea'e us nought but grief and pain,
+                      For promis'd joy.
+
+    Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me!
+    The present only toucheth thee:
+    But, Och! I backward cast my e'e,
+                      On prospects drear!
+    An' forward, tho' I canna see,
+                      I guess an' fear.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXXVII.
+
+SCOTCH DRINK.
+
+    "Gie him strong drink, until he wink,
+      That's sinking in despair;
+    An' liquor guid to fire his bluid,
+      That's prest wi' grief an' care;
+    There let him bouse, an' deep carouse,
+      Wi' bumpers flowing o'er,
+    Till he forgets his loves or debts,
+      An' minds his griefs no more."
+
+SOLOMON'S PROVERB, xxxi. 6, 7.
+
+["I here enclose you," said Burns, 20 March, 1786, to his friend
+Kennedy, "my Scotch Drink; I hope some time before we hear the gowk,
+to have the pleasure of seeing you at Kilmarnock: when I intend we
+shall have a gill between us, in a mutchkin stoup."]
+
+
+    Let other poets raise a fracas
+    'Bout vines, an' wines, an' dru'ken Bacchus,
+    An' crabbit names and stories wrack us,
+                      An' grate our lug,
+    I sing the juice Scotch bear can mak us,
+                      In glass or jug.
+
+    O, thou, my Muse! guid auld Scotch drink;
+    Whether thro' wimplin' worms thou jink,
+    Or, richly brown, ream o'er the brink,
+                      In glorious faem,
+    Inspire me, till I lisp an' wink,
+                      To sing thy name!
+
+    Let husky wheat the haughs adorn,
+    An' aits set up their awnie horn,
+    An' pease an' beans, at e'en or morn,
+                      Perfume the plain,
+    Leeze me on thee, John Barleycorn,
+                      Thou king o' grain!
+
+    On thee aft Scotland chows her cood,
+    In souple scones, the wale o' food!
+    Or tumblin' in the boilin' flood
+                      Wi' kail an' beef;
+    But when thou pours thy strong heart's blood,
+                      There thou shines chief.
+
+    Food fills the wame an' keeps us livin';
+    Tho' life's a gift no worth receivin'
+    When heavy dragg'd wi' pine an' grievin';
+                      But, oil'd by thee,
+    The wheels o' life gae down-hill, scrievin,'
+                      Wi' rattlin' glee.
+
+    Thou clears the head o' doited Lear;
+    Thou cheers the heart o' drooping Care;
+    Thou strings the nerves o' Labour sair,
+                      At's weary toil;
+    Thou even brightens dark Despair
+                      Wi' gloomy smile.
+
+    Aft, clad in massy, siller weed,
+    Wi' gentles thou erects thy head;
+    Yet humbly kind in time o' need,
+                      The poor man's wine,
+    His wee drap parritch, or his bread,
+                      Thou kitchens fine.
+
+    Thou art the life o' public haunts;
+    But thee, what were our fairs an' rants?
+    Ev'n godly meetings o' the saunts,
+                      By thee inspir'd,
+    When gaping they besiege the tents,
+                      Are doubly fir'd.
+
+    That merry night we get the corn in,
+    O sweetly then thou reams the horn in!
+    Or reekin' on a new-year morning
+                      In cog or dicker,
+    An' just a wee drap sp'ritual burn in,
+                      An' gusty sucker!
+
+    When Vulcan gies his bellows breath,
+    An' ploughmen gather wi' their graith,
+    O rare! to see thee fizz an' freath
+                      I' th' lugget caup!
+    Then Burnewin comes on like Death
+                      At ev'ry chap.
+
+    Nae mercy, then, for airn or steel;
+    The brawnie, bainie, ploughman chiel,
+    Brings hard owrehip, wi' sturdy wheel,
+                      The strong forehammer,
+    Till block an' studdie ring an' reel
+                      Wi' dinsome clamour.
+
+    When skirlin' weanies see the light,
+    Thou maks the gossips clatter bright,
+    How fumblin' cuifs their dearies slight;
+                      Wae worth the name!
+    Nae howdie gets a social night,
+                      Or plack frae them.
+
+    When neibors anger at a plea,
+    An' just as wud as wud can be,
+    How easy can the barley-bree
+                      Cement the quarrel!
+    It's aye the cheapest lawyer's fee,
+                      To taste the barrel.
+
+    Alake! that e'er my muse has reason
+    To wyte her countrymen wi' treason!
+    But monie daily weet their weason
+                      Wi' liquors nice,
+    An' hardly, in a winter's season,
+                      E'er spier her price.
+
+    Wae worth that brandy, burning trash!
+    Fell source o' monie a pain an' brash!
+    Twins monie a poor, doylt, druken hash,
+                      O' half his days;
+    An' sends, beside, auld Scotland's cash
+                      To her warst faes.
+
+    Ye Scots, wha wish auld Scotland well,
+    Ye chief, to you my tale I tell,
+    Poor plackless devils like mysel',
+                      It sets you ill,
+    Wi' bitter, dearthfu' wines to mell,
+                      Or foreign gill.
+
+    May gravels round his blather wrench,
+    An' gouts torment him inch by inch,
+    Wha twists his gruntle wi' a glunch
+                      O' sour disdain,
+    Out owre a glass o' whiskey punch
+                      Wi' honest men;
+
+    O whiskey! soul o' plays an' pranks!
+    Accept a Bardie's gratefu' thanks!
+    When wanting thee, what tuneless cranks
+                      Are my poor verses!
+    Thou comes--they rattle i' their ranks
+                      At ither's a----s!
+
+    Thee, Ferintosh! O sadly lost!
+    Scotland lament frae coast to coast!
+    Now colic grips, an' barkin' hoast,
+                      May kill us a';
+    For loyal Forbes' charter'd boast,
+                      Is ta'en awa.
+
+    Thae curst horse-leeches o' th' Excise,
+    Wha mak the whiskey stells their prize!
+    Haud up thy han', Deil! ance, twice, thrice!
+                      There, seize the blinkers!
+    An' bake them up in brunstane pies
+                      For poor d--n'd drinkers.
+
+    Fortune! if thou'll but gie me still
+    Hale breeks, a scone, an' whiskey gill,
+    An' rowth o' rhyme to rave at will,
+                      Tak' a' the rest,
+    An' deal't about as thy blind skill
+                      Directs thee best.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXXVIII.
+
+THE AUTHOR'S
+
+EARNEST CRY AND PRAYER
+
+TO THE
+
+SCOTCH REPRESENTATIVES
+
+IN THE
+
+HOUSE OF COMMONS.
+
+    'Dearest of distillation! last and best!----
+    ------How art thou lost!--------'
+
+PARODY ON MILTON
+
+["This Poem was written," says Burns, "before the act anent the
+Scottish distilleries, of session 1786, for which Scotland and the
+author return their most grateful thanks." Before the passing of this
+lenient act, so sharp was the law in the North, that some distillers
+relinquished their trade; the price of barley was affected, and
+Scotland, already exasperated at the refusal of a militia, for which
+she was a petitioner, began to handle her claymore, and was perhaps
+only hindered from drawing it by the act mentioned by the poet. In an
+early copy of the poem, he thus alludes to Colonel Hugh Montgomery,
+afterwards Earl of Eglinton:--
+
+    "Thee, sodger Hugh, my watchman stented,
+    If bardies e'er are represented,
+    I ken if that yere sword were wanted
+                      Ye'd lend yere hand;
+    But when there's aught to say anent it
+                      Yere at a stand."
+
+The poet was not sure that Montgomery would think the compliment to
+his ready hand an excuse in full for the allusion to his unready
+tongue, and omitted the stanza.]
+
+
+    Ye Irish lords, ye knights an' squires,
+    Wha represent our brughs an' shires,
+    An' doucely manage our affairs
+                      In Parliament,
+    To you a simple Bardie's prayers
+                      Are humbly sent.
+
+    Alas! my roupet Muse is hearse!
+    Your honours' hearts wi' grief 'twad pierce,
+    To see her sittin' on her a--e
+                      Low i' the dust,
+    An' scriechin' out prosaic verse,
+                      An' like to brust!
+
+    Tell them wha hae the chief direction,
+    Scotland an' me's in great affliction,
+    E'er sin' they laid that curst restriction
+                      On aqua-vitae;
+    An' rouse them up to strong conviction,
+                      An' move their pity.
+
+    Stand forth, an' tell yon Premier youth,
+    The honest, open, naked truth:
+    Tell him o' mine an' Scotland's drouth,
+                      His servants humble:
+    The muckie devil blaw ye south,
+                      If ye dissemble!
+
+    Does ony great man glunch an' gloom?
+    Speak out, an' never fash your thumb!
+    Let posts an' pensions sink or soom
+                      Wi' them wha grant 'em:
+    If honestly they canna come,
+                      Far better want 'em.
+
+    In gath'rin votes you were na slack;
+    Now stand as tightly by your tack;
+    Ne'er claw your lug, an' fidge your back,
+                      An' hum an' haw;
+    But raise your arm, an' tell your crack
+                      Before them a'.
+
+    Paint Scotland greetin' owre her thrizzle,
+    Her mutchkin stoup as toom's a whissle:
+    An' damn'd excisemen in a bussle,
+                      Seizin' a stell,
+    Triumphant crushin't like a mussel
+                      Or lampit shell.
+
+    Then on the tither hand present her,
+    A blackguard smuggler, right behint her,
+    An' cheek-for-chow, a chuffie vintner,
+                      Colleaguing join,
+    Picking her pouch as bare as winter
+                      Of a' kind coin.
+
+    Is there, that bears the name o' Scot,
+    But feels his heart's bluid rising hot,
+    To see his poor auld mither's pot
+                      Thus dung in staves,
+    An' plunder'd o' her hindmost groat
+                      By gallows knaves?
+
+    Alas! I'm but a nameless wight,
+    Trode i' the mire out o' sight!
+    But could I like Montgomeries fight,
+                      Or gab like Boswell,
+    There's some sark-necks I wad draw tight,
+                      An' tie some hose well.
+
+    God bless your honours, can ye see't,
+    The kind, auld, canty carlin greet,
+    An' no get warmly on your feet,
+                      An' gar them hear it!
+    An' tell them with a patriot heat,
+                      Ye winna bear it?
+
+    Some o' you nicely ken the laws,
+    To round the period an' pause,
+    An' wi' rhetorie clause on clause
+                      To mak harangues:
+    Then echo thro' Saint Stephen's wa's
+                      Auld Scotland's wrangs.
+
+    Dempster, a true blue Scot I'se warran';
+    Thee, aith-detesting, chaste Kilkerran;[46]
+    An' that glib-gabbet Highland baron,
+                      The Laird o' Graham;[47]
+    An' ane, a chap that's damn'd auldfarren,
+                      Dundas his name.
+
+    Erskine, a spunkie Norland billie;
+    True Campbells, Frederick an' Hay;
+    An' Livingstone, the bauld Sir Willie:
+                      An' monie ithers,
+    Whom auld Demosthenes or Tully
+                      Might own for brithers.
+
+    Arouse, my boys! exert your mettle,
+    To get auld Scotland back her kettle:
+    Or faith! I'll wad my new pleugh-pettle,
+                      Ye'll see't or lang,
+    She'll teach you, wi' a reekin' whittle,
+                      Anither sang.
+
+    This while she's been in crankous mood,
+    Her lost militia fir'd her bluid;
+    (Deil na they never mair do guid,
+                      Play'd her that pliskie!)
+    An' now she's like to rin red-wud
+                      About her whiskey.
+
+    An' L--d, if once they pit her till't,
+    Her tartan petticoat she'll kilt,
+    An' durk an' pistol at her belt,
+                      She'll tak the streets,
+    An' rin her whittle to the hilt,
+                      I' th' first she meets!
+
+    For God sake, sirs, then speak her fair,
+    An' straik her cannie wi' the hair,
+    An' to the muckle house repair,
+                      Wi' instant speed,
+    An' strive, wi' a' your wit and lear,
+                      To get remead.
+
+    Yon ill-tongu'd tinkler, Charlie Fox,
+    May taunt you wi' his jeers an' mocks;
+    But gie him't het, my hearty cocks!
+                      E'en cowe the cadie!
+    An' send him to his dicing box,
+                      An' sportin' lady.
+
+    Tell yon guid bluid o' auld Boconnock's
+    I'll be his debt twa mashlum bonnocks,
+    An' drink his health in auld Nanse Tinnock's[48]
+                      Nine times a-week,
+    If he some scheme, like tea an' winnocks,
+                      Wad kindly seek.
+
+    Could he some commutation broach,
+    I'll pledge my aith in guid braid Scotch,
+    He need na fear their foul reproach
+                      Nor erudition,
+    Yon mixtie-maxtie queer hotch-potch,
+                      The Coalition.
+
+    Auld Scotland has a raucle tongue;
+    She's just a devil wi' a rung;
+    An' if she promise auld or young
+                      To tak their part,
+    Tho' by the neck she should be strung,
+                      She'll no desert.
+
+    An' now, ye chosen Five-and-Forty,
+    May still your mither's heart support ye,
+    Then, though a minister grow dorty,
+                      An' kick your place,
+    Ye'll snap your fingers, poor an' hearty,
+                      Before his face.
+
+    God bless your honours a' your days,
+    Wi' sowps o' kail and brats o' claise,
+    In spite o' a' the thievish kaes,
+                      That haunt St. Jamie's:
+    Your humble Poet signs an' prays
+                      While Rab his name is.
+
+POSTSCRIPT.
+
+    Let half-starv'd slaves in warmer skies
+    See future wines, rich clust'ring, rise;
+    Their lot auld Scotland ne'er envies,
+                      But blythe and frisky,
+    She eyes her freeborn, martial boys,
+                      Tak aff their whiskey.
+
+    What tho' their Phoebus kinder warms,
+    While fragrance blooms and beauty charms!
+    When wretches range, in famish'd swarms,
+                      The scented groves,
+    Or hounded forth, dishonour arms
+                      In hungry droves.
+
+    Their gun's a burden on their shouther;
+    They downa bide the stink o' powther;
+    Their bauldest thought's a' hank'ring swither
+                      To stan' or rin,
+    Till skelp--a shot--they're aff, a' throther
+                      To save their skin.
+
+    But bring a Scotsman frae his hill,
+    Clap in his check a Highland gill,
+    Say, such is royal George's will,
+                      An' there's the foe,
+    He has nae thought but how to kill
+                      Twa at a blow.
+
+    Nae could faint-hearted doubtings tease him;
+    Death comes, wi' fearless eye he sees him;
+    Wi' bluidy han' a welcome gies him;
+                      An' when he fa's,
+    His latest draught o' breathin' lea'es him
+                      In faint huzzas!
+
+    Sages their solemn een may steek,
+    An' raise a philosophic reek,
+    An' physically causes seek,
+                      In clime an' season;
+    But tell me whiskey's name in Greek,
+                      I'll tell the reason.
+
+    Scotland, my auld, respected mither!
+    Tho' whiles ye moistify your leather,
+    Till whare ye sit, on craps o' heather
+                      Ye tine your dam;
+    Freedom and whiskey gang thegither!--
+                      Tak aff your dram!
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 46: Sir Adam Ferguson.]
+
+[Footnote 47: The Duke of Montrose.]
+
+[Footnote 48: A worthy old hostess of the author's in Mauchline, where
+he sometimes studies politics over a glass of guid auld Scotch drink.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXXIX.
+
+ADDRESS TO THE UNCO GUID,
+
+OR THE
+
+RIGIDLY RIGHTEOUS.
+
+    "My son, these maxims make a rule,
+      And lump them ay thegither;
+    The Rigid Righteous is a fool,
+      The Rigid Wise anither:
+    The cleanest corn that e'er was dight
+      May hae some pyles o' caff in;
+    So ne'er a fellow-creature slight
+      For random fits o' daffin."
+
+SOLOMON.--Eccles. ch. vii. ver. 16.
+
+["Burns," says Hogg, in a note on this Poem, "has written more from
+his own heart and his own feelings than any other poet. External
+nature had few charms for him; the sublime shades and hues of heaven
+and earth never excited his enthusiasm: but with the secret fountains
+of passion in the human soul he was well acquainted." Burns, indeed,
+was not what is called a descriptive poet: yet with what exquisite
+snatches of description are some of his poems adorned, and in what
+fragrant and romantic scenes he enshrines the heroes and heroines of
+many of his finest songs! Who the high, exalted, virtuous dames were,
+to whom the Poem refers, we are not told. How much men stand indebted
+to want of opportunity to sin, and how much of their good name they
+owe to the ignorance of the world, were inquiries in which the poet
+found pleasure.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O ye wha are sae guid yoursel',
+      Sae pious and sae holy,
+    Ye've nought to do but mark and tell
+      Your neibor's fauts and folly!
+    Whase life is like a weel-gaun mill,
+      Supply'd wi' store o' water,
+    The heaped happer's ebbing still,
+      And still the clap plays clatter.
+
+II.
+
+    Hear me, ye venerable core,
+      As counsel for poor mortals,
+    That frequent pass douce Wisdom's door
+      For glaikit Folly's portals;
+    I, for their thoughtless, careless sakes,
+      Would here propone defences,
+    Their donsie tricks, their black mistakes,
+      Their failings and mischances.
+
+III.
+
+    Ye see your state wi' theirs compar'd,
+      And shudder at the niffer,
+    But cast a moment's fair regard,
+      What maks the mighty differ?
+    Discount what scant occasion gave,
+      That purity ye pride in,
+    And (what's aft mair than a' the lave)
+      Your better art o' hiding.
+
+IV.
+
+    Think, when your castigated pulse
+      Gies now and then a wallop,
+    What ragings must his veins convulse,
+      That still eternal gallop:
+    Wi' wind and tide fair i' your tail,
+      Right on ye scud your sea-way;
+    But in the teeth o' baith to sail,
+      It makes an unco lee-way.
+
+V.
+
+    See social life and glee sit down,
+      All joyous and unthinking,
+    'Till, quite transmugrify'd, they're grown
+    Debauchery and drinking;
+    O would they stay to calculate
+      Th' eternal consequences;
+    Or your more dreaded hell to state,
+    D--mnation of expenses!
+
+VI.
+
+    Ye high, exalted, virtuous dames,
+      Ty'd up in godly laces,
+    Before ye gie poor frailty names,
+      Suppose a change o' cases;
+    A dear lov'd lad, convenience snug,
+      A treacherous inclination--
+    But, let me whisper, i' your lug,
+      Ye're aiblins nae temptation.
+
+VII.
+
+    Then gently scan your brother man,
+      Still gentler sister woman;
+    Though they may gang a kennin' wrang,
+      To step aside is human:
+    One point must still be greatly dark,
+      The moving why they do it:
+    And just as lamely can ye mark,
+      How far perhaps they rue it.
+
+VIII.
+
+    Who made the heart, 'tis He alone
+      Decidedly can try us,
+    He knows each chord--its various tone,
+      Each spring--its various bias:
+    Then at the balance let's be mute,
+      We never can adjust it;
+    What's done we partly may compute,
+      But know not what's resisted.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XL.
+
+TAM SAMSON'S ELEGY.[49]
+
+    "An honest man's the noblest work of God."
+
+POPE.
+
+[Tam Samson was a west country seedsman and sportsman, who loved a
+good song, a social glass, and relished a shot so well that he
+expressed a wish to die and be buried in the moors. On this hint Burns
+wrote the Elegy: when Tam heard o' this he waited on the poet, caused
+him to recite it, and expressed displeasure at being numbered with the
+dead: the author, whose wit was as ready as his rhymes, added the Per
+Contra in a moment, much to the delight of his friend. At his death
+the four lines of Epitaph were cut on his gravestone. "This poem has
+always," says Hogg, "been a great country favourite: it abounds with
+happy expressions.
+
+    'In vain the burns cam' down like waters,
+                              An acre braid.'
+
+What a picture of a flooded burn! any other poet would have given us a
+long description: Burns dashes it down at once in a style so graphic
+no one can mistake it.
+
+    'Perhaps upon his mouldering breast
+    Some spitefu' moorfowl bigs her nest.'
+
+Match that sentence who can."]
+
+
+    Has auld Kilmarnock seen the deil?
+    Or great M'Kinlay[50] thrawn his heel?
+    Or Robinson[51] again grown weel,
+                      To preach an' read?
+    "Na, waur than a'!" cries ilka chiel,
+                      Tam Samson's dead!
+
+    Kilmarnock lang may grunt an' grane,
+    An' sigh, an' sob, an' greet her lane,
+    An' cleed her bairns, man, wife, an wean,
+                      In mourning weed;
+    To death, she's dearly paid the kane,
+                      Tam Samson's dead!
+
+    The brethren o' the mystic level
+    May hing their head in woefu' bevel,
+    While by their nose the tears will revel,
+                      Like ony bead;
+    Death's gien the lodge an unco devel,
+                      Tam Samson's dead!
+
+    When Winter muffles up his cloak,
+    And binds the mire like a rock;
+    When to the lochs the curlers flock,
+                      Wi' gleesome speed,
+    Wha will they station at the cock?
+                      Tam Samson's dead!
+
+    He was the king o' a' the core,
+    To guard or draw, or wick a bore,
+    Or up the rink like Jehu roar
+                      In time o' need;
+    But now he lags on death's hog-score,
+                      Tam Samson's dead!
+
+    Now safe the stately sawmont sail,
+    And trouts be-dropp'd wi' crimson hail,
+    And eels weel ken'd for souple tail,
+                      And geds for greed,
+    Since dark in death's fish-creel we wail
+                      Tam Samson dead.
+
+    Rejoice, ye birring patricks a';
+    Ye cootie moor-cocks, crousely craw;
+    Ye maukins, cock your fud fu' braw,
+                      Withouten dread;
+    Your mortal fae is now awa'--
+                      Tam Samson's dead!
+
+    That woefu' morn be ever mourn'd
+    Saw him in shootin' graith adorn'd,
+    While pointers round impatient burn'd,
+                      Frae couples freed;
+    But, Och! he gaed and ne'er return'd!
+                      Tam Samson's dead!
+
+    In vain auld age his body batters;
+    In vain the gout his ancles fetters;
+    In vain the burns cam' down like waters,
+                      An acre braid!
+    Now ev'ry auld wife, greetin', clatters,
+                      Tam Samson's dead!
+
+    Owre many a weary hag he limpit,
+    An' ay the tither shot he thumpit,
+    Till coward death behind him jumpit,
+                      Wi' deadly feide;
+    Now he proclaims, wi' tout o' trumpet,
+                      Tam Samson's dead!
+
+    When at his heart he felt the dagger,
+    He reel'd his wonted bottle swagger,
+    But yet he drew the mortal trigger
+                      Wi' weel-aim'd heed;
+    "L--d, five!" he cry'd, an' owre did stagger;
+                      Tam Samson's dead!
+
+    Ilk hoary hunter mourn'd a brither;
+    Ilk sportsman youth bemoan'd a father;
+    Yon auld grey stane, amang the heather,
+                      Marks out his head,
+    Whare Burns has wrote in rhyming blether
+                      Tam Samson's dead!
+
+    There low he lies, in lasting rest;
+    Perhaps upon his mould'ring breast
+    Some spitefu' muirfowl bigs her nest,
+                      To hatch an' breed;
+    Alas! nae mair he'll them molest!
+                      Tam Samson's dead!
+
+    When August winds the heather wave,
+    And sportsmen wander by yon grave,
+    Three volleys let his mem'ry crave
+                      O' pouther an' lead,
+    'Till echo answer frae her cave
+                      Tam Samson's dead!
+
+    Heav'n rest his soul, whare'er he be!
+    Is th' wish o' mony mae than me;
+    He had twa fauts, or may be three,
+                      Yet what remead?
+    Ae social, honest man want we:
+                      Tam Samson's dead!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+EPITAPH.
+
+    Tam Samson's weel-worn clay here lies,
+      Ye canting zealots spare him!
+    If honest worth in heaven rise,
+      Ye'll mend or ye win near him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+PER CONTRA.
+
+    Go, Fame, an' canter like a filly
+    Thro' a' the streets an' neuks o' Killie,
+    Tell ev'ry social honest billie
+                      To cease his grievin',
+    For yet, unskaith'd by death's gleg gullie,
+                      Tam Samson's livin'.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 49: When this worthy old sportsman went out last muirfowl
+season, he supposed it was to be, in Ossian's phrase, "the last of his
+fields."]
+
+[Footnote 50: A preacher, a great favourite with the million. _Vide_
+the Ordination, stanza II]
+
+[Footnote 51: Another preacher, an equal favourite with the few, who
+was at that time ailing. For him see also the Ordination, stanza IX.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XLI.
+
+LAMENT,
+
+OCCASIONED BY THE UNFORTUNATE ISSUE
+
+OF A
+
+FRIEND'S AMOUR.
+
+    "Alas! how oft does goodness wound itself!
+    And sweet affection prove the spring of woe."
+
+HOME.
+
+[The hero and heroine of this little mournful poem, were Robert Burns
+and Jean Armour. "This was a most melancholy affair," says the poet in
+his letter to Moore, "which I cannot yet bear to reflect on, and had
+very nearly given me one or two of the principal qualifications for a
+place among those who have lost the chart and mistaken the reckoning
+of rationality." Hogg and Motherwell, with an ignorance which is
+easier to laugh at than account for, say this Poem was "written on the
+occasion of Alexander Cunningham's darling sweetheart alighting him
+and marrying another:--she acted a wise part." With what care they had
+read the great poet whom they jointly edited in is needless to say:
+and how they could read the last two lines of the third verse and
+commend the lady's wisdom for slighting her lover, seems a problem
+which defies definition. This mistake was pointed out by a friend, and
+corrected in a second issue of the volume.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O thou pale orb, that silent shines,
+      While care-untroubled mortals sleep!
+    Thou seest a wretch who inly pines,
+      And wanders here to wail and weep!
+    With woe I nightly vigils keep,
+      Beneath thy wan, unwarming beam,
+    And mourn, in lamentation deep,
+      How life and love are all a dream.
+
+II.
+
+    A joyless view thy rays adorn
+      The faintly marked distant hill:
+    I joyless view thy trembling horn,
+      Reflected in the gurgling rill:
+    My fondly-fluttering heart, be still:
+      Thou busy pow'r, Remembrance, cease!
+    Ah! must the agonizing thrill
+      For ever bar returning peace!
+
+III.
+
+    No idly-feign'd poetic pains,
+      My sad, love-lorn lamentings claim;
+    No shepherd's pipe--Arcadian strains;
+      No fabled tortures, quaint and tame:
+    The plighted faith; the mutual flame;
+      The oft-attested Pow'rs above;
+    The promis'd father's tender name;
+      These were the pledges of my love!
+
+IV.
+
+    Encircled in her clasping arms,
+      How have the raptur'd moments flown!
+    How have I wish'd for fortune's charms,
+      For her dear sake, and hers alone!
+    And must I think it!--is she gone,
+      My secret heart's exulting boast?
+    And does she heedless hear my groan?
+      And is she ever, ever lost?
+
+V.
+
+    Oh! can she bear so base a heart,
+      So lost to honour, lost to truth,
+    As from the fondest lover part,
+      The plighted husband of her youth!
+    Alas! life's path may be unsmooth!
+      Her way may lie thro' rough distress!
+    Then, who her pangs and pains will soothe,
+      Her sorrows share, and make them less?
+
+VI.
+
+    Ye winged hours that o'er us past,
+      Enraptur'd more, the more enjoy'd,
+    Your dear remembrance in my breast,
+      My fondly-treasur'd thoughts employ'd,
+    That breast, how dreary now, and void,
+      For her too scanty once of room!
+    Ev'n ev'ry ray of hope destroy'd,
+      And not a wish to gild the gloom!
+
+VII.
+
+    The morn that warns th' approaching day,
+      Awakes me up to toil and woe:
+    I see the hours in long array,
+      That I must suffer, lingering slow.
+    Full many a pang, and many a throe,
+      Keen recollection's direful train,
+    Must wring my soul, ere Phoebus, low,
+      Shall kiss the distant, western main.
+
+VIII.
+
+    And when my nightly couch I try,
+      Sore-harass'd out with care and grief,
+    My toil-beat nerves, and tear-worn eye,
+      Keep watchings with the nightly thief:
+    Or if I slumber, fancy, chief,
+      Reigns haggard-wild, in sore affright:
+    Ev'n day, all-bitter, brings relief,
+      From such a horror-breathing night.
+
+IX.
+
+    O! thou bright queen, who o'er th' expanse
+      Now highest reign'st, with boundless sway!
+    Oft has thy silent-marking glance
+      Observ'd us, fondly-wand'ring, stray!
+    The time, unheeded, sped away,
+      While love's luxurious pulse beat high,
+    Beneath thy silver-gleaming ray,
+      To mark the mutual kindling eye.
+
+X.
+
+    Oh! scenes in strong remembrance set!
+      Scenes never, never to return!
+    Scenes, if in stupor I forget,
+      Again I feel, again I burn!
+    From ev'ry joy and pleasure torn,
+      Life's weary vale I'll wander thro';
+    And hopeless, comfortless, I'll mourn
+      A faithless woman's broken vow.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XLII.
+
+DESPONDENCY.
+
+AN ODE.
+
+["I think," said Burns, "it is one of the greatest pleasures attending
+a poetic genius, that we can give our woes, cares, joys, and loves an
+embodied form in verse, which to me is ever immediate ease." He
+elsewhere says, "My passions raged like so many devils till they got
+vent in rhyme." That eminent painter, Fuseli, on seeing his wife in a
+passion, said composedly, "Swear my love, swear heartily: you know not
+how much it will ease you!" This poem was printed in the Kilmarnock
+edition, and gives a true picture of those bitter moments experienced
+by the bard, when love and fortune alike deceived him.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Oppress'd with grief, oppress'd with care,
+    A burden more than I can bear,
+      I set me down and sigh:
+    O life! thou art a galling load,
+    Along a rough, a weary road,
+      To wretches such as I!
+    Dim-backward as I cast my view,
+      What sick'ning scenes appear!
+    What sorrows yet may pierce me thro'
+      Too justly I may fear!
+        Still caring, despairing,
+          Must be my bitter doom;
+        My woes here shall close ne'er
+          But with the closing tomb!
+
+II.
+
+    Happy, ye sons of busy life,
+    Who, equal to the bustling strife,
+      No other view regard!
+    Ev'n when the wished end's deny'd,
+    Yet while the busy means are ply'd,
+      They bring their own reward:
+    Whilst I, a hope-abandon'd wight,
+      Unfitted with an aim,
+    Meet ev'ry sad returning night
+      And joyless morn the same;
+        You, bustling, and justling,
+          Forget each grief and pain;
+        I, listless, yet restless,
+          Find every prospect vain.
+
+III.
+
+    How blest the solitary's lot,
+    Who, all-forgetting, all forgot,
+      Within his humble cell,
+    The cavern wild with tangling roots,
+    Sits o'er his newly-gather'd fruits,
+      Beside his crystal well!
+    Or, haply, to his ev'ning thought,
+      By unfrequented stream,
+    The ways of men are distant brought,
+      A faint collected dream;
+        While praising, and raising
+          His thoughts to heav'n on high,
+        As wand'ring, meand'ring,
+          He views the solemn sky.
+
+IV.
+
+    Than I, no lonely hermit plac'd
+    Where never human footstep trac'd,
+      Less fit to play the part;
+    The lucky moment to improve,
+    And just to stop, and just to move,
+      With self-respecting art:
+    But, ah! those pleasures, loves, and joys,
+      Which I too keenly taste,
+    The solitary can despise,
+      Can want, and yet be blest!
+        He needs not, he heeds not,
+          Or human love or hate,
+        Whilst I here, must cry here
+          At perfidy ingrate!
+
+V.
+
+    Oh! enviable, early days,
+    When dancing thoughtless pleasure's maze,
+      To care, to guilt unknown!
+    How ill exchang'd for riper times,
+    To feel the follies, or the crimes,
+      Of others, or my own!
+    Ye tiny elves that guiltless sport,
+      Like linnets in the bush,
+    Ye little know the ills ye court,
+      When manhood is your wish!
+        The losses, the crosses,
+          That active man engage!
+        The fears all, the tears all,
+          Of dim declining age!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT."]
+
+XLIII.
+
+THE
+
+COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT.
+
+INSCRIBED TO ROBERT AIKEN, ESQ.
+
+    "Let not ambition mock their useful toil,
+    Their homely joys, and destiny obscure:
+    Nor grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile,
+    The short and simple annals of the poor."
+
+GRAY
+
+[The house of William Burns was the scene of this fine, devout, and
+tranquil drama, and William himself was the saint, the father, and the
+husband, who gives life and sentiment to the whole. "Robert had
+frequently remarked to me," says Gilbert Burns, "that he thought there
+was something peculiarly venerable in the phrase, 'Let us worship
+God!' used by a decent sober head of a family, introducing family
+worship." To this sentiment of the author the world is indebted for
+the "Cotter's Saturday Night." He owed some little, however, of the
+inspiration to Fergusson's "Farmer's Ingle," a poem of great merit.
+The calm tone and holy composure of the Cotter's Saturday Night have
+been mistaken by Hogg for want of nerve and life. "It is a dull,
+heavy, lifeless poem," he says, "and the only beauty it possesses, in
+my estimation, is, that it is a sort of family picture of the poet's
+family. The worst thing of all, it is not original, but is a decided
+imitation of Fergusson's beautiful pastoral, 'The Farmer's Ingle:' I
+have a perfect contempt for all plagiarisms and imitations."
+Motherwell tries to qualify the censure of his brother editor, by
+quoting Lockhart's opinion--at once lofty and just, of this fine
+picture of domestic happiness and devotion.]
+
+
+I.
+
+      My lov'd, my honour'd, much respected friend!
+        No mercenary bard his homage pays;
+      With honest pride, I scorn each selfish end:
+        My dearest meed, a friend's esteem and praise:
+      To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays,
+        The lowly train in life's sequester'd scene;
+      The native feelings strong, the guileless ways;
+        What Aiken in a cottage would have been;
+    Ah! tho' his work unknown, far happier there, I ween!
+
+II.
+
+      November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh;
+        The short'ning winter-day is near a close;
+      The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh:
+        The black'ning trains o' craws to their repose:
+      The toil-worn Cotter frae his labour goes,
+        This night his weekly moil is at an end,
+      Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes,
+        Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend,
+    And weary, o'er the moor, his course does homeward bend.
+
+III.
+
+      At length his lonely cot appears in view,
+        Beneath the shelter of an aged tree;
+      Th' expectant wee-things, toddlin', stacher thro'
+        To meet their Dad, wi' flichterin' noise an' glee.
+      His wee bit ingle, blinkin' bonnily.
+        His clean hearth-stane, his thriftie Wifie's smile,
+      The lisping infant prattling on his knee,
+        Does a' his weary kiaugh and care beguile,
+    An' makes him quite forget his labour and his toil.
+
+IV.
+
+      Belyve, the elder bairns come drapping in,
+        At service out amang the farmers roun':
+      Some ca' the pleugh, some herd, some tentie rin
+        A cannie errand to a neebor town:
+      Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman grown,
+        In youthfu' bloom, love sparkling in her e'e,
+      Comes hame, perhaps to shew a braw new gown,
+        Or deposite her sair won penny-fee,
+    To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be.
+
+V.
+
+      With joy unfeign'd, brothers and sisters meet,
+        An' each for other's welfare kindly spiers:
+      The social hours, swift-wing'd, unnotic'd, fleet;
+        Each tells the unco's that he sees or hears;
+      The parents, partial, eye their hopeful years;
+        Anticipation forward points the view.
+      The Mother, wi' her needle an' her shears,
+        Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new;
+    The Father mixes a' wi' admonition due.
+
+VI.
+
+      Their master's an' their mistress's command,
+        The younkers a' are warned to obey;
+      And mind their labours wi' an eydent hand,
+        An' ne'er, tho' out of sight, to jauk or play:
+      "And O! be sure to fear the Lord alway!
+        And mind your duty, duly, morn and night!
+      Lest in temptation's path ye gang astray,
+        Implore His counsel and assisting might:
+    They never sought in vain, that sought the Lord aright!"
+
+VII.
+
+      But, hark! a rap comes gently to the door;
+        Jenny, wha kens the meaning o' the same,
+      Tells how a neebor lad cam o'er the moor,
+        To do some errands, and convoy her hame.
+      The wily Mother sees the conscious flame
+        Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, and flush her cheek,
+      With heart-struck anxious care, inquires his name,
+        While Jenny hafflins is afraid to speak;
+    Weel pleas'd the Mother hears it's nae wild, worthless rake.
+
+VIII.
+
+      Wi' kindly welcome, Jenny brings him ben;
+        A strappan youth; he taks the Mother's eye;
+      Blythe Jenny sees the visit's no ill ta'en;
+        The Father cracks of horses, pleughs, and kye.
+      The youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi' joy,
+        But blate, an laithfu', scarce can weel behave;
+      The Mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy
+        What makes the youth sae bashfu' and sae grave;
+    Weel pleas'd to think her bairn's respected like the lave.
+
+IX.
+
+      O happy love! Where love like this is found!
+        O heart-felt raptures!--bliss beyond compare!
+      I've paced much this weary, mortal round,
+        And sage experience bids me this declare--
+      "If heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare,
+        One cordial in this melancholy vale,
+      'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair,
+        In other's arms, breathe out the tender tale,
+    Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the ev'ning gale."
+
+X.
+
+      Is there, in human form, that bears a heart--
+        A wretch! a villain! lost to love and truth!
+      That can, with studied, sly, ensnaring art,
+        Betray sweet Jenny's unsuspecting youth?
+      Curse on his perjur'd arts! dissembling smooth!
+        Are honour, virtue, conscience, all exil'd?
+      Is there no pity, no relenting ruth,
+        Points to the parents fondling o'er their child?
+    Then paints the ruin'd maid, and their distraction wild?
+
+XI.
+
+      But now the supper crowns their simple board,
+        The halesome parritch, chief of Scotia's food:
+      The soupe their only hawkie does afford,
+        That 'yont the hallan snugly chows her cood:
+      The dame brings forth in complimental mood,
+        To grace the lad, her weel-hain'd kebbuck, fell,
+      An' aft he's prest, an' aft he ca's it guid;
+        The frugal wifie, garrulous, will tell,
+    How 'twas a towmond auld, sin' lint was i' the bell.
+
+XII.
+
+      The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face,
+        They, round the ingle, form a circle wide;
+      The Sire turns o'er, with patriarchal grace,
+        The big ha'-Bible, ance his father's pride;
+      His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside,
+        His lyart haffets wearing thin an' bare;
+      Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide,
+        He wales a portion with judicious care;
+    And 'Let us worship GOD!' he says, with solemn air.
+
+XIII.
+
+      They chant their artless notes in simple guise;
+        They tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim:
+      Perhaps Dundee's wild-warbling measures rise,
+        Or plaintive Martyrs, worthy of the name;
+      Or noble Elgin beets the heaven-ward flame,
+        The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays:
+      Compar'd with these, Italian trills are tame;
+        The tickl'd ear no heart-felt raptures raise;
+    Nae unison hae they with our Creator's praise.
+
+XIV.
+
+      The priest-like Father reads the sacred page,
+        How Abram was the friend of God on high;
+      Or, Moses bade eternal warfare wage
+        With Amalek's ungracious progeny;
+      Or how the royal bard did groaning lie
+        Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire;
+      Or Job's pathetic plaint, and wailing cry;
+        Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire;
+    Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre.
+
+XV.
+
+      Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme,
+        How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed;
+      How HE, who bore in Heaven the second name,
+        Had not on earth whereon to lay his head:
+      How His first followers and servants sped,
+        The precepts sage they wrote to many a land:
+      How he who lone in Patmos banished,
+        Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand;
+    And heard great Bab'lon's doom pronounc'd by Heaven's command.
+
+XVI.
+
+      Then kneeling down, to HEAVEN'S ETERNAL KING,
+        The Saint, the Father, and the Husband prays:
+      Hope 'springs exulting on triumphant wing,'[52]
+        That thus they all shall meet in future days:
+      There ever bask in uncreated rays,
+        No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear,
+      Together hymning their Creator's praise,
+        In such society, yet still more dear:
+    While circling Time moves round in an eternal sphere.
+
+XVII.
+
+      Compar'd with this, how poor Religion's pride,
+        In all the pomp of method and of art,
+      When men display to congregations wide,
+        Devotion's ev'ry grace, except the heart!
+      The Pow'r, incens'd, the pageant will desert,
+        The pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole;
+      But haply, in some cottage far apart,
+        May hear, well pleas'd, the language of the soul;
+    And in His book of life the inmates poor enrol.
+
+XVIII.
+
+      Then homeward all take off their sev'ral way;
+        The youngling cottagers retire to rest:
+      Their Parent-pair their secret homage pay,
+        And proffer up to Heaven the warm request,
+      That HE, who stills the raven's clam'rous nest,
+        And decks the lily fair in flow'ry pride,
+      Would, in the way His wisdom sees the best,
+        For them and for their little ones provide;
+    But, chiefly, in their hearts with grace divine preside.
+
+XIX.
+
+      From scenes like these, old Scotia's grandeur springs,
+        That makes her lov'd at home, rever'd abroad:
+      Princes and lords are but the breath of kings,
+        "An honest man's the noblest work of GOD;"[53]
+      And certes, in fair virtue's heav'nly road,
+        The cottage leaves the palace far behind;
+      What is a lordship's pomp? a cumbrous load,
+        Disguising oft the wretch of human kind,
+    Studied in arts of Hell, in wickedness refin'd!
+
+XX.
+
+      O Scotia! my dear, my native soil!
+        For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent!
+      Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil
+        Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content!
+      And, O! may heaven their simple lives prevent
+        From luxury's contagion, weak and vile!
+      Then, howe'er crowns and coronets be rent,
+        A virtuous populace may rise the while,
+    And stand a wall of fire around their much-lov'd Isle.
+
+XXI.
+
+      O Thou! who pour'd the patriotic tide
+        That stream'd through Wallace's undaunted heart:
+      Who dar'd to nobly stem tyrannic pride,
+        Or nobly die, the second glorious part,
+      (The patriot's God, peculiarly Thou art,
+        His friend, inspirer, guardian, and reward!)
+      O never, never, Scotia's realm desert;
+        But still the patriot, and the patriot bard,
+    In bright succession raise, her ornament and guard!
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 52: Pope.]
+
+[Footnote 53: Pope.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XLIV.
+
+THE FIRST PSALM.
+
+[This version was first printed in the second edition of the poet's
+work. It cannot be regarded as one of his happiest compositions: it is
+inferior, not indeed in ease, but in simplicity and antique rigour of
+language, to the common version used in the Kirk of Scotland. Burns
+had admitted "Death and Dr. Hornbook" into Creech's edition, and
+probably desired to balance it with something at which the devout
+could not cavil.]
+
+
+    The man, in life wherever plac'd,
+      Hath happiness in store,
+    Who walks not in the wicked's way,
+      Nor learns their guilty lore!
+
+    Nor from the seat of scornful pride
+      Casts forth his eyes abroad,
+    But with humility and awe
+      Still walks before his GOD.
+
+    That man shall flourish like the trees
+      Which by the streamlets grow;
+    The fruitful top is spread on high,
+      And firm the root below.
+
+    But he whose blossom buds in guilt
+      Shall to the ground be cast,
+    And, like the rootless stubble, tost
+      Before the sweeping blast.
+
+    For why? that GOD the good adore
+      Hath giv'n them peace and rest,
+    But hath decreed that wicked men
+      Shall ne'er be truly blest.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XLV.
+
+THE FIRST SIX VERSES
+
+OF THE
+
+NINETIETH PSALM.
+
+[The ninetieth Psalm is said to have been a favourite in the household
+of William Burns: the version used by the Kirk, though unequal,
+contains beautiful verses, and possesses the same strain of sentiment
+and moral reasoning as the poem of "Man was made to Mourn." These
+verses first appeared in the Edinburgh edition; and they might have
+been spared; for in the hands of a poet ignorant of the original
+language of the Psalmist, how could they be so correct in sense and
+expression as in a sacred strain is not only desirable but necessary?]
+
+
+    O Thou, the first, the greatest friend
+      Of all the human race!
+    Whose strong right hand has ever been
+      Their stay and dwelling place!
+
+    Before the mountains heav'd their heads
+      Beneath Thy forming hand,
+    Before this ponderous globe itself
+      Arose at Thy command;
+
+    That Pow'r which rais'd and still upholds
+      This universal frame,
+    From countless, unbeginning time
+      Was ever still the same.
+
+    Those mighty periods of years
+      Which seem to us so vast,
+    Appear no more before Thy sight
+      Than yesterday that's past.
+
+    Thou giv'st the word: Thy creature, man,
+      Is to existence brought;
+    Again thou say'st, "Ye sons of men,
+      Return ye into nought!"
+
+    Thou layest them, with all their cares,
+      In everlasting sleep;
+    As with a flood Thou tak'st them off
+      With overwhelming sweep.
+
+    They flourish like the morning flow'r,
+      In beauty's pride array'd;
+    But long ere night, cut down, it lies
+      All wither'd and decay'd.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XLVI.
+
+TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY,
+
+ON TURNING ONE DOWN WITH THE PLOUGH IN
+
+APRIL, 1786.
+
+[This was not the original title of this sweet poem: I have a copy in
+the handwriting of Burns entitled "The Gowan." This more natural name
+he changed as he did his own, without reasonable cause; and he changed
+it about the same time, for he ceased to call himself Burness and his
+poem "The Gowan," in the first edition of his works. The field at
+Mossgiel where he turned down the Daisy is said to be the same field
+where some five months before he turned up the Mouse; but this seems
+likely only to those who are little acquainted with tillage--who think
+that in time and place reside the chief charms of verse; and who feel
+not the beauty of "The Daisy," till they seek and find the spot on
+which it grew. Sublime morality and the deepest emotions of the soul
+pass for little with those who remember only what the genius loves to
+forget.]
+
+
+    Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flow'r,
+    Thou's met me in an evil hour;
+    For I maun crush amang the stoure
+                      Thy slender stem:
+    To spare thee now is past my pow'r,
+                      Thou bonnie gem.
+
+    Alas! it's no thy neebor sweet,
+    The bonnie lark, companion meet!
+    Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet,
+                      Wi' spreckl'd breast,
+    When upward-springing, blythe, to greet
+                      The purpling east.
+
+    Cauld blew the bitter-biting north
+    Upon thy early, humble birth;
+    Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth
+                      Amid the storm,
+    Scarce rear'd above the parent earth
+                      Thy tender form.
+
+    The flaunting flowers our gardens yield,
+    High shelt'ring woods and wa's maun shield
+    But thou, beneath the random bield
+                      O' clod or stane,
+    Adorns the histie stibble-field,
+                      Unseen, alane.
+
+    There, in thy scanty mantle clad,
+    Thy snawie bosom sunward spread,
+    Thou lifts thy unassuming head
+                      In humble guise;
+    But now the share uptears thy bed,
+                      And low thou lies!
+
+    Such is the fate of artless maid,
+    Sweet flow'ret of the rural shade!
+    By love's simplicity betray'd,
+                      And guileless trust,
+    'Till she, like thee, all soil'd, is laid
+                      Low i' the dust.
+
+    Such is the fate of simple bard,
+    On life's rough ocean luckless starr'd!
+    Unskilful he to note the card
+                      Of prudent lore,
+    'Till billows rage, and gales blow hard,
+                      And whelm him o'er!
+
+    Such fate to suffering worth is giv'n,
+    Who long with wants and woes has striv'n,
+    By human pride or cunning driv'n
+                      To mis'ry's brink,
+    'Till wrenched of every stay but Heav'n,
+                      He, ruin'd, sink!
+
+    Ev'n thou who mourn'st the Daisy's fate,
+    That fate is thine--no distant date;
+    Stern Ruin's ploughshare drives, elate,
+                      Full on thy bloom,
+    'Till crush'd beneath the furrow's weight,
+                      Shall be thy doom!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XLVII.
+
+EPISTLE TO A YOUNG FRIEND.
+
+MAY, 1786.
+
+[Andrew Aikin, to whom this poem of good counsel is addressed, was one
+of the sons of Robert Aiken, writer in Ayr, to whom the Cotter's
+Saturday Night is inscribed. He became a merchant in Liverpool, with
+what success we are not informed, and died at St. Petersburgh. The
+poet has been charged with a desire to teach hypocrisy rather than
+truth to his "Andrew dear;" but surely to conceal one's own thoughts
+and discover those of others, can scarcely be called hypocritical: it
+is, in fact, a version of the celebrated precept of prudence,
+"Thoughts close and looks loose." Whether he profited by all the
+counsel showered upon him by the muse we know not: he was much
+respected--his name embalmed, like that of his father, in the poetry
+of his friend, is not likely soon to perish.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    I lang hae thought, my youthfu' friend,
+      A something to have sent you,
+    Though it should serve nae ither end
+      Than just a kind memento;
+    But how the subject-theme may gang,
+      Let time and chance determine;
+    Perhaps it may turn out a sang,
+      Perhaps, turn out a sermon.
+
+II.
+
+    Ye'll try the world soon, my lad,
+      And, Andrew dear, believe me,
+    Ye'll find mankind an unco squad,
+      And muckle they may grieve ye:
+    For care and trouble set your thought,
+      Ev'n when your end's attain'd;
+    And a' your views may come to nought,
+      Where ev'ry nerve is strained.
+
+III.
+
+    I'll no say men are villains a';
+      The real, harden'd wicked,
+    Wha hae nae check but human law,
+      Are to a few restricked;
+    But, och! mankind are unco weak,
+      An' little to be trusted;
+    If self the wavering balance shake,
+      It's rarely right adjusted!
+
+IV.
+
+    Yet they wha fa' in Fortune's strife,
+      Their fate we should na censure,
+    For still th' important end of life
+      They equally may answer;
+    A man may hae an honest heart,
+      Tho' poortith hourly stare him;
+    A man may tak a neebor's part,
+      Yet hae nae cash to spare him.
+
+V.
+
+    Ay free, aff han' your story tell,
+      When wi' a bosom crony;
+    But still keep something to yoursel'
+      Ye scarcely tell to ony.
+    Conceal yoursel' as weel's ye can
+      Frae critical dissection;
+    But keek thro' ev'ry other man,
+      Wi' sharpen'd, sly inspection.
+
+VI.
+
+    The sacred lowe o' weel-plac'd love,
+      Luxuriantly indulge it;
+    But never tempt th' illicit rove,
+      Tho' naething should divulge it:
+    I waive the quantum o' the sin,
+      The hazard of concealing;
+    But, och! it hardens a' within,
+      And petrifies the feeling!
+
+VII.
+
+    To catch dame Fortune's golden smile,
+      Assiduous wait upon her;
+    And gather gear by ev'ry wile
+      That's justified by honour;
+    Not for to hide it in a hedge,
+      Nor for a train-attendant;
+    But for the glorious privilege
+      Of being independent.
+
+VIII.
+
+    The fear o' Hell's a hangman's whip,
+      To haud the wretch in order;
+    But where ye feel your honour grip,
+      Let that ay be your border:
+    Its slightest touches, instant pause--
+      Debar a' side pretences;
+    And resolutely keep its laws,
+      Uncaring consequences.
+
+IX.
+
+    The great Creator to revere
+      Must sure become the creature;
+    But still the preaching cant forbear,
+      And ev'n the rigid feature:
+    Yet ne'er with wits profane to range,
+      Be complaisance extended;
+    An Atheist laugh's a poor exchange
+      For Deity offended!
+
+X.
+
+    When ranting round in pleasure's ring,
+      Religion may be blinded;
+    Or if she gie a random sting,
+      It may be little minded;
+    But when on life we're tempest-driv'n,
+      A conscience but a canker--
+    A correspondence fix'd wi' Heav'n
+      Is sure a noble anchor!
+
+XI.
+
+    Adieu, dear, amiable youth!
+      Your heart can ne'er be wanting!
+    May prudence, fortitude, and truth
+      Erect your brow undaunting!
+    In ploughman phrase, 'God send you speed,'
+      Still daily to grow wiser:
+    And may you better reck the rede
+      Than ever did th' adviser!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XLVIII.
+
+TO A LOUSE,
+
+ON SEEING ONE IN A LADY'S BONNET, AT CHURCH
+
+[A Mauchline incident of a Mauchline lady is related in this poem,
+which to many of the softer friends of the bard was anything but
+welcome: it appeared in the Kilmarnock copy of his Poems, and
+remonstrance and persuasion were alike tried in vain to keep it out of
+the Edinburgh edition. Instead of regarding it as a seasonable rebuke
+to pride and vanity, some of his learned commentators called it course
+and vulgar--those classic persons might have remembered that Julian,
+no vulgar person, but an emperor and a scholar, wore a populous beard,
+and was proud of it.]
+
+
+    Ha! whare ye gaun, ye crowlin ferlie!
+    Your impudence protects you sairly:
+    I canna say by ye strunt rarely,
+                      Owre gauze and lace;
+    Tho' faith, I fear, ye dine but sparely
+                      On sic a place.
+
+    Ye ugly, creepin', blastit wonner,
+    Detested, shunn'd, by saunt an' sinner,
+    How dare you set your fit upon her,
+                      Sae fine a lady!
+    Gae somewhere else, and seek your dinner
+                      On some poor body.
+
+    Swith, in some beggar's haffet squattle;
+    There ye may creep, and sprawl, and sprattle
+    Wi' ither kindred, jumping cattle,
+                      In shoals and nations;
+    Whare horn nor bane ne'er daur unsettle
+                      Your thick plantations.
+
+    Now haud you there, ye're out o' sight,
+    Below the fatt'rells, snug an' tight;
+    Na, faith ye yet! ye'll no be right
+                      'Till ye've got on it,
+    The vera topmost, tow'ring height
+                      O' Miss's bonnet.
+
+    My sooth! right bauld ye set your nose out,
+    As plump an' gray as onie grozet;
+    O for some rank, mercurial rozet,
+                      Or fell, red smeddum,
+    I'd gie you sic a hearty doze o't,
+                      Wad dross your droddum!
+
+    I wad na been surpris'd to spy
+    You on an auld wife's flainen toy;
+    Or aiblins some bit duddie boy,
+                      On's wyliecoat;
+    But Miss's fine Lunardi! fie!
+                      How daur ye do't?
+
+    O, Jenny, dinna toss your head,
+    An' set your beauties a' abread!
+    Ye little ken what cursed speed
+                      The blastie's makin'!
+    Thae winks and finger-ends, I dread,
+                      Are notice takin'!
+
+    O wad some Power the giftie gie us
+    To see oursels as others see us!
+    It wad frae monie a blunder free us
+                      An' foolish notion;
+    What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us,
+                      And ev'n devotion!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XLIX.
+
+EPISTLE TO J. RANKINE,
+
+ENCLOSING SOME POEMS.
+
+[The person to whom these verses are addressed lived at Adamhill in
+Ayrshire, and merited the praise of rough and ready-witted, which the
+poem bestows. The humorous dream alluded to, was related by way of
+rebuke to a west country earl, who was in the habit of calling all
+people of low degree "Brutes!--damned brutes." "I dreamed that I was
+dead," said the rustic satirist to his superior, "and condemned for
+the company I kept. When I came to hell-door, where mony of your
+lordship's friends gang, I chappit, and 'Wha are ye, and where d'ye
+come frae?' Satan exclaimed. I just said, that my name was Rankine,
+and I came frae yere lordship's land. 'Awa wi' you,' cried Satan, ye
+canna come here: hell's fou o' his lordship's damned brutes
+already.'"]
+
+
+    O rough, rude, ready-witted Rankine,
+    The wale o' cocks for fun an' drinkin'!
+    There's monie godly folks are thinkin',
+                      Your dreams[54] an' tricks
+    Will send you, Korah-like, a-sinkin'
+                      Straught to auld Nick's.
+
+    Ye hae sae monie cracks an' cants,
+    And in your wicked, dru'ken rants,
+    Ye mak a devil o' the saunts,
+                      An' fill them fou;
+    And then their failings, flaws, an' wants,
+                      Are a' seen through.
+
+    Hypocrisy, in mercy spare it!
+    That holy robe, O dinna tear it!
+    Spare't for their sakes wha aften wear it,
+                      The lads in black!
+    But your curst wit, when it comes near it,
+                      Rives't aff their back.
+
+    Think, wicked sinner, wha ye're skaithing,
+    It's just the blue-gown badge and claithing
+    O' saunts; tak that, ye lea'e them naething
+                      To ken them by,
+    Frae ony unregenerate heathen,
+                      Like you or I.
+
+    I've sent you here some rhyming ware,
+    A' that I bargain'd for, an' mair;
+    Sae, when you hae an hour to spare,
+                      I will expect
+    Yon sang,[55] ye'll sen't wi cannie care,
+                      And no neglect.
+
+    Tho' faith, sma' heart hae I to sing!
+    My muse dow scarcely spread her wing!
+    I've play'd mysel' a bonnie spring,
+                      An' danc'd my fill!
+    I'd better gaen an' sair't the king,
+                      At Bunker's Hill.
+
+    'Twas ae night lately, in my fun,
+    I gaed a roving wi' the gun,
+    An' brought a paitrick to the grun',
+                      A bonnie hen,
+    And, as the twilight was begun,
+                      Thought nane wad ken.
+
+    The poor wee thing was little hurt;
+    I straikit it a wee for sport,
+    Ne'er thinkin' they wad fash me for't;
+                      But, deil-ma-care!
+    Somebody tells the poacher-court
+                      The hale affair.
+
+    Some auld us'd hands had taen a note,
+    That sic a hen had got a shot;
+    I was suspected for the plot;
+                      I scorn'd to lie;
+    So gat the whissle o' my groat,
+                      An' pay't the fee.
+
+    But, by my gun, o' guns the wale,
+    An' by my pouther an' my hail,
+    An' by my hen, an' by her tail,
+                      I vow an' swear!
+    The game shall pay o'er moor an' dale,
+                      For this niest year.
+
+    As soon's the clockin-time is by,
+    An' the wee pouts begun to cry,
+    L--d, I'se hae sportin' by an' by,
+                      For my gowd guinea;
+    Tho' I should herd the buckskin kye
+                      For't, in Virginia.
+
+    Trowth, they had muckle for to blame!
+    'Twas neither broken wing nor limb,
+    But twa-three draps about the wame
+                      Scarce thro' the feathers;
+    An' baith a yellow George to claim,
+                      An' thole their blethers!
+
+    It pits me ay as mad's a hare;
+    So I can rhyme nor write nae mair;
+    But pennyworths again is fair,
+                      When time's expedient:
+    Meanwhile I am, respected Sir,
+                      Your most obedient.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 54: A certain humorous dream of his was then making a noise
+in the country-side.]
+
+[Footnote 55: A song he had promised the author.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+L.
+
+ON A SCOTCH BARD,
+
+GONE TO THE WEST INDIES.
+
+[Burns in this Poem, as well as in others, speaks openly of his tastes
+and passions: his own fortunes are dwelt on with painful minuteness,
+and his errors are recorded with the accuracy, but not the seriousness
+of the confessional. He seems to have been fond of taking himself to
+task. It was written when "Hungry ruin had him in the wind," and
+emigration to the West Indies was the only refuge which he could think
+of, or his friends suggest, from the persecutions of fortune.]
+
+
+    A' ye wha live by sowps o' drink,
+    A' ye wha live by crambo-clink,
+    A' ye wha live and never think,
+                      Come, mourn wi' me!
+    Our billie's gien us a' a jink,
+                      An' owre the sea.
+
+    Lament him a' ye rantin' core,
+    Wha dearly like a random-splore,
+    Nae mair he'll join the merry roar
+                      In social key;
+    For now he's taen anither shore,
+                      An' owre the sea!
+
+    The bonnie lasses weel may wiss him,
+    And in their dear petitions place him;
+    The widows, wives, an' a' may bless him,
+                      Wi' tearfu' e'e;
+    For weel I wat they'll sairly miss him
+                      That's owre the sea!
+
+    O Fortune, they hae room to grumble!
+    Hadst thou taen' aff some drowsy bummle
+    Wha can do nought but fyke and fumble,
+                      'Twad been nae plea,
+    But he was gleg as onie wumble,
+                      That's owre the sea!
+
+    Auld, cantie Kyle may weepers wear,
+    An' stain them wi' the saut, saut tear;
+    'Twill mak her poor auld heart, I fear,
+                      In flinders flee;
+    He was her laureate monie a year,
+                      That's owre the sea!
+
+    He saw Misfortune's cauld nor-west
+    Lang mustering up a bitter blast;
+    A jillet brak his heart at last,
+                      Ill may she be!
+    So, took a birth afore the mast,
+                      An' owre the sea.
+
+    To tremble under fortune's cummock,
+    On scarce a bellyfu' o' drummock,
+    Wi' his proud, independent stomach,
+                      Could ill agree;
+    So, row't his hurdies in a hammock,
+                      An' owre the sea.
+
+    He ne'er was gien to great misguiding,
+    Yet coin his pouches wad na bide in;
+    Wi' him it ne'er was under hiding:
+                      He dealt it free;
+    The muse was a' that he took pride in,
+                      That's owre the sea.
+
+    Jamaica bodies, use him weel,
+    An' hap him in a cozie biel;
+    Ye'll find him ay a dainty chiel,
+                      And fou o' glee;
+    He wad na wrang'd the vera deil,
+                      That's owre the sea.
+
+    Fareweel, my rhyme-composing billie!
+    Your native soil was right ill-willie;
+    But may ye flourish like a lily,
+                      Now bonnilie!
+    I'll toast ye in my hindmost gillie,
+                      Tho' owre the sea!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LI.
+
+THE FAREWELL.
+
+    "The valiant, in himself, what can he suffer?
+    Or what does he regard his single woes?
+    But when, alas! he multiplies himself,
+    To dearer selves, to the lov'd tender fair,
+    The those whose bliss, whose beings hang upon him,
+    To helpless children! then, O then! he feels
+    The point of misery fest'ring in his heart,
+    And weakly weeps his fortune like a coward.
+    Such, such am I! undone."
+
+THOMSON.
+
+[In these serious stanzas, where the comic, as in the lines to the
+Scottish bard, are not permitted to mingle, Burns bids farewell to all
+on whom his heart had any claim. He seems to have looked on the sea as
+only a place of peril, and on the West Indies as a charnel-house.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Farewell, old Scotia's bleak domains,
+    Far dearer than the torrid plains
+      Where rich ananas blow!
+    Farewell, a mother's blessing dear!
+    A brother's sigh! a sister's tear!
+      My Jean's heart-rending throe!
+    Farewell, my Bess! tho' thou'rt bereft
+      Of my parental care,
+    A faithful brother I have left,
+      My part in him thou'lt share!
+        Adieu too, to you too,
+          My Smith, my bosom frien';
+        When kindly you mind me,
+          O then befriend my Jean!
+
+II.
+
+    What bursting anguish tears my heart!
+    From thee, my Jeany, must I part!
+      Thou weeping answ'rest--"No!"
+    Alas! misfortune stares my face,
+    And points to ruin and disgrace,
+      I for thy sake must go!
+    Thee, Hamilton, and Aiken dear,
+      A grateful, warm adieu;
+    I, with a much-indebted tear,
+      Shall still remember you!
+        All-hail then, the gale then,
+          Wafts me from thee, dear shore!
+        It rustles, and whistles
+          I'll never see thee more!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LII.
+
+WRITTEN
+
+ON THE BLANK LEAF OF A COPY OF MY POEMS, PRESENTED TO AN OLD
+SWEETHEART, THEN MARRIED.
+
+[This is another of the poet's lamentations, at the prospect of
+"torrid climes" and the roars of the Atlantic. To Burns, Scotland was
+the land of promise, the west of Scotland his paradise; and the land
+of dread, Jamaica! I found these lines copied by the poet into a
+volume which he presented to Dr. Geddes: they were addressed, it is
+thought, to the "Dear E." of his earliest correspondence.]
+
+
+    Once fondly lov'd and still remember'd dear;
+      Sweet early object of my youthful vows!
+    Accept this mark of friendship, warm, sincere,--
+      Friendship! 'tis all cold duty now allows.
+
+    And when you read the simple artless rhymes,
+      One friendly sigh for him--he asks no more,--
+    Who distant burns in flaming torrid climes,
+      Or haply lies beneath th' Atlantic roar.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LIII.
+
+A DEDICATION
+
+TO
+
+GAVIN HAMILTON, ESQ.
+
+[The gentleman to whom these manly lines are addressed, was of good
+birth, and of an open and generous nature: he was one of the first of
+the gentry of the west to encourage the muse of Coila to stretch her
+wings at full length. His free life, and free speech, exposed him to
+the censures of that stern divine, Daddie Auld, who charged him with
+the sin of absenting himself from church for three successive days;
+for having, without the fear of God's servant before him, profanely
+said damn it, in his presence, and far having gallopped on Sunday.
+These charges were contemptuously dismissed by the presbyterial court.
+Hamilton was the brother of the Charlotte to whose charms, on the
+banks of Devon, Burns, it is said, paid the homage of a lover, as well
+as of a poet. The poem had a place in the Kilmarnock edition, but not
+as an express dedication.]
+
+
+    Expect na, Sir, in this narration,
+    A fleechin', fleth'rin dedication,
+    To roose you up, an' ca' you guid,
+    An' sprung o' great an' noble bluid,
+    Because ye're surnam'd like his Grace;
+    Perhaps related to the race;
+    Then when I'm tir'd--and sae are ye,
+    Wi' monie a fulsome, sinfu' lie,
+    Set up a face, how I stop short,
+    For fear your modesty be hurt.
+
+    This may do--maun do, Sir, wi' them wha
+    Maun please the great folk for a wamefou;
+    For me! sae laigh I needna bow,
+    For, Lord be thankit, I can plough;
+    And when I downa yoke a naig,
+    Then, Lord be thankit, I can beg;
+    Sae I shall say, an' that's nae flatt'rin',
+    It's just sic poet, an' sic patron.
+
+    The Poet, some guid angel help him,
+    Or else, I fear some ill ane skelp him,
+    He may do weel for a' he's done yet,
+    But only--he's no just begun yet.
+
+    The Patron, (Sir, ye maun forgie me,
+    I winna lie, come what will o' me,)
+    On ev'ry hand it will allow'd be,
+    He's just--nae better than he should be.
+
+    I readily and freely grant,
+    He downa see a poor man want;
+    What's no his ain, he winna tak it;
+    What ance he says, he winna break it;
+    Ought he can lend he'll no refus't,
+    'Till aft his guidness is abus'd;
+    And rascals whyles that do him wrang,
+    E'en that, he does na mind it lang:
+    As master, landlord, husband, father,
+    He does na fail his part in either.
+
+    But then, nae thanks to him for a' that;
+    Nae godly symptom ye can ca' that;
+    It's naething but a milder feature,
+    Of our poor sinfu', corrupt nature:
+    Ye'll get the best o' moral works,
+    'Mang black Gentoos and pagan Turks,
+    Or hunters wild on Ponotaxi,
+    Wha never heard of orthodoxy.
+
+    That he's the poor man's friend in need,
+    The gentleman in word and deed,
+    It's no thro' terror of damnation;
+    It's just a carnal inclination.
+
+    Morality, thou deadly bane,
+    Thy tens o' thousands thou hast slain!
+    Vain is his hope, whose stay and trust is
+    In moral mercy, truth and justice!
+
+    No--stretch a point to catch a plack;
+    Abuse a brother to his back;
+    Steal thro' a winnock frae a whore,
+    But point the rake that taks the door;
+    Be to the poor like onie whunstane,
+    And haud their noses to the grunstane,
+    Ply ev'ry art o' legal thieving;
+    No matter--stick to sound believing.
+
+    Learn three-mile pray'rs an' half-mile graces,
+    Wi' weel-spread looves, and lang wry faces;
+    Grunt up a solemn, lengthen'd groan,
+    And damn a' parties but your own;
+    I'll warrant then, ye're nae deceiver,
+    A steady, sturdy, staunch believer.
+
+    O ye wha leave the springs o' Calvin,
+    For gumlie dubs of your ain delvin'!
+    Ye sons of heresy and error,
+    Ye'll some day squeal in quaking terror!
+    When Vengeance draws the sword in wrath,
+    And in the fire throws the sheath;
+    When Ruin, with his sweeping besom,
+    Just frets 'till Heav'n commission gies him:
+    While o'er the harp pale Mis'ry moans,
+    And strikes the ever-deep'ning tones,
+    Still louder shrieks, and heavier groans!
+
+    Your pardon, Sir, for this digression.
+    I maist forgat my dedication;
+    But when divinity comes cross me
+    My readers still are sure to lose me.
+
+    So, Sir, ye see 'twas nae daft vapour,
+    But I maturely thought it proper,
+    When a' my works I did review,
+    To dedicate them, Sir, to you:
+    Because (ye need na tak it ill)
+    I thought them something like yoursel'.
+
+    Then patronize them wi' your favour,
+    And your petitioner shall ever--
+    I had amaist said, ever pray,
+    But that's a word I need na say:
+    For prayin' I hae little skill o't;
+    I'm baith dead sweer, an' wretched ill o't;
+    But I'se repeat each poor man's pray'r,
+    That kens or hears about you, Sir--
+
+    "May ne'er misfortune's gowling bark,
+    Howl thro' the dwelling o' the Clerk!
+    May ne'er his gen'rous, honest heart,
+    For that same gen'rous spirit smart!
+    May Kennedy's far-honour'd name
+    Lang beet his hymeneal flame,
+    Till Hamiltons, at least a dizen,
+    Are frae their nuptial labours risen:
+    Five bonnie lasses round their table,
+    And seven braw fellows, stout an' able
+    To serve their king and country weel,
+    By word, or pen, or pointed steel!
+    May health and peace, with mutual rays,
+    Shine on the ev'ning o' his days;
+    'Till his wee curlie John's-ier-oe,
+    When ebbing life nae mair shall flow,
+    The last, sad, mournful rites bestow."
+
+    I will not wind a lang conclusion,
+    With complimentary effusion:
+    But whilst your wishes and endeavours
+    Are blest with Fortune's smiles and favours,
+    I am, dear Sir, with zeal most fervent,
+    Your much indebted, humble servant.
+
+    But if (which pow'rs above prevent)
+    That iron-hearted carl, Want,
+    Attended in his grim advances
+    By sad mistakes and black mischances,
+    While hopes, and joys, and pleasures fly him,
+    Make you as poor a dog as I am,
+    Your humble servant then no more;
+    For who would humbly serve the poor!
+    But by a poor man's hope in Heav'n!
+    While recollection's pow'r is given,
+    If, in the vale of humble life,
+    The victim sad of fortune's strife,
+    I, thro' the tender gushing tear,
+    Should recognise my Master dear,
+    If friendless, low, we meet together,
+    Then Sir, your hand--my friend and brother.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LIV.
+
+ELEGY
+
+ON
+
+THE DEATH OF ROBERT RUISSEAUX.
+
+[Cromek found these verses among the loose papers of Burns, and
+printed them in the Reliques. They contain a portion of the character
+of the poet, record his habitual carelessness in worldly affairs, and
+his desire to be distinguished.]
+
+
+    Now Robin lies in his last lair,
+    He'll gabble rhyme, nor sing nae mair,
+    Cauld poverty, wi' hungry stare,
+                      Nae mair shall fear him;
+    Nor anxious fear, nor cankert care,
+                      E'er mair come near him.
+
+    To tell the truth, they seldom fash't him,
+    Except the moment that they crush't him;
+    For sune as chance or fate had hush't 'em,
+                      Tho' e'er sae short,
+    Then wi' a rhyme or song he lash't 'em,
+                      And thought it sport.
+
+    Tho' he was bred to kintra wark,
+    And counted was baith wight and stark.
+    Yet that was never Robin's mark
+                      To mak a man;
+    But tell him he was learned and clark,
+                      Ye roos'd him than!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LV.
+
+LETTER TO JAMES TENNANT,
+
+OF GLENCONNER.
+
+[The west country farmer to whom this letter was sent was a social
+man. The poet depended on his judgment in the choice of a farm, when
+he resolved to quit the harp for the plough: but as Ellisland was his
+choice, his skill may be questioned.]
+
+
+    Auld comrade dear, and brither sinner,
+    How's a' the folk about Glenconner?
+    How do you this blae eastlin wind,
+    That's like to blaw a body blind?
+    For me, my faculties are frozen,
+    My dearest member nearly dozen'd,
+    I've sent you here, by Johnie Simson,
+    Twa sage philosophers to glimpse on;
+    Smith, wi' his sympathetic feeling,
+    An' Reid, to common sense appealing.
+    Philosophers have fought and wrangled,
+    An' meikle Greek and Latin mangled,
+    Till wi' their logic-jargon tir'd,
+    An' in the depth of science mir'd,
+    To common sense they now appeal,
+    What wives and wabsters see and feel.
+    But, hark ye, friend! I charge you strictly
+    Peruse them, an' return them quickly,
+    For now I'm grown sae cursed douce
+    I pray and ponder butt the house,
+    My shins, my lane, I there sit roastin',
+    Perusing Bunyan, Brown, an' Boston;
+    Till by an' by, if I haud on,
+    I'll grunt a real gospel groan:
+    Already I begin to try it,
+    To cast my e'en up like a pyet,
+    When by the gun she tumbles o'er,
+    Flutt'ring an' gasping in her gore:
+    Sae shortly you shall see me bright,
+    A burning and a shining light.
+
+    My heart-warm love to guid auld Glen,
+    The ace an' wale of honest men:
+    When bending down wi' auld gray hairs,
+    Beneath the load of years and cares,
+    May He who made him still support him,
+    An' views beyond the grave comfort him,
+    His worthy fam'ly far and near,
+    God bless them a' wi' grace and gear!
+
+    My auld schoolfellow, preacher Willie,
+    The manly tar, my mason Billie,
+    An' Auchenbay, I wish him joy;
+    If he's a parent, lass or boy,
+    May he be dad, and Meg the mither,
+    Just five-and-forty years thegither!
+    An' no forgetting wabster Charlie,
+    I'm tauld he offers very fairly.
+    An' Lord, remember singing Sannock,
+    Wi' hale breeks, saxpence, an' a bannock,
+    An' next my auld acquaintance, Nancy,
+    Since she is fitted to her fancy;
+    An' her kind stars hae airted till her
+    A good chiel wi' a pickle siller.
+    My kindest, best respects I sen' it,
+    To cousin Kate, an' sister Janet;
+    Tell them, frae me, wi' chiels be cautious,
+    For, faith, they'll aiblins fin' them fashious;
+    To grant a heart is fairly civil,
+    But to grant the maidenhead's the devil
+    An' lastly, Jamie, for yoursel',
+    May guardian angels tak a spell,
+    An' steer you seven miles south o' hell:
+    But first, before you see heaven's glory,
+    May ye get monie a merry story,
+    Monie a laugh, and monie a drink,
+    And aye eneugh, o' needfu' clink.
+
+    Now fare ye weel, an' joy be wi' you,
+    For my sake this I beg it o' you.
+    Assist poor Simson a' ye can,
+    Ye'll fin' him just an honest man;
+    Sae I conclude, and quat my chanter,
+    Your's, saint or sinner,
+
+ROB THE RANTER.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LVI.
+
+ON THE
+
+BIRTH OF A POSTHUMOUS CHILD.
+
+[From letters addressed by Burns to Mrs. Dunlop, it would appear that
+this "Sweet Flow'ret, pledge o' meikle love," was the only son of her
+daughter, Mrs. Henri, who had married a French gentleman. The mother
+soon followed the father to the grave: she died in the south of
+France, whither she had gone in search of health.]
+
+
+    Sweet flow'ret, pledge o' meikle love,
+      And ward o' mony a pray'r,
+    What heart o' stane wad thou na move,
+      Sae helpless, sweet, and fair!
+
+    November hirples o'er the lea,
+      Chill on thy lovely form;
+    And gane, alas! the shelt'ring tree,
+      Should shield thee frae the storm.
+
+    May He who gives the rain to pour,
+      And wings the blast to blaw,
+    Protect thee frae the driving show'r,
+      The bitter frost and snaw!
+
+    May He, the friend of woe and want,
+      Who heals life's various stounds,
+    Protect and guard the mother-plant,
+      And heal her cruel wounds!
+
+    But late she flourish'd, rooted fast,
+      Fair on the summer-morn:
+    Now feebly bends she in the blast,
+      Unshelter'd and forlorn.
+
+    Blest be thy bloom, thou lovely gem,
+      Unscath'd by ruffian hand!
+    And from thee many a parent stem
+      Arise to deck our land!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LVII.
+
+TO MISS CRUIKSHANK,
+
+A VERY YOUNG LADY.
+
+WRITTEN ON THE BLANK LEAF OF A BOOK, PRESENTED
+
+TO HER BY THE AUTHOR.
+
+[The beauteous rose-bud of this poem was one of the daughters of Mr.
+Cruikshank, a master in the High School of Edinburgh, at whose table
+Burns was a frequent guest during the year of hope which he spent in
+the northern metropolis.]
+
+
+    Beauteous rose-bud, young and gay,
+    Blooming in thy early May,
+    Never may'st thou, lovely flow'r,
+    Chilly shrink in sleety show'r!
+    Never Boreas' hoary path,
+    Never Eurus' poisonous breath,
+    Never baleful stellar lights,
+    Taint thee with untimely blights!
+    Never, never reptile thief
+    Riot on thy virgin leaf!
+    Nor even Sol too fiercely view
+    Thy bosom blushing still with dew!
+
+    May'st thou long, sweet crimson gem,
+    Richly deck thy native stem:
+    'Till some evening, sober, calm,
+    Dropping dews and breathing balm,
+    While all around the woodland rings,
+    And ev'ry bird thy requiem sings;
+    Thou, amid the dirgeful sound,
+    Shed thy dying honours round,
+    And resign to parent earth
+    The loveliest form she e'er gave birth.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LVIII.
+
+WILLIE CHALMERS.
+
+[Lockhart first gave this poetic curiosity to the world: he copied it
+from a small manuscript volume of Poems given by Burns to Lady Harriet
+Don, with an explanation in these words: "W. Chalmers, a gentleman in
+Ayrshire, a particular friend of mine, asked me to write a poetic
+epistle to a young lady, his Dulcinea. I had seen her, but was
+scarcely acquainted with her, and wrote as follows." Chalmers was a
+writer in Ayr. I have not heard that the lady was influenced by this
+volunteer effusion: ladies are seldom rhymed into the matrimonial
+snare.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Wi' braw new branks in mickle pride,
+      And eke a braw new brechan,
+    My Pegasus I'm got astride,
+      And up Parnassus pechin;
+    Whiles owre a bush wi' downward crush
+      The doitie beastie stammers;
+    Then up he gets and off he sets
+      For sake o' Willie Chalmers.
+
+II.
+
+    I doubt na, lass, that weel kenn'd name
+      May cost a pair o' blushes;
+    I am nae stranger to your fame,
+      Nor his warm urged wishes.
+    Your bonnie face sae mild and sweet
+      His honest heart enamours,
+    And faith ye'll no be lost a whit,
+      Tho' waired on Willie Chalmers.
+
+III.
+
+    Auld Truth hersel' might swear ye're fair,
+      And Honour safely back her,
+    And Modesty assume your air,
+      And ne'er a ane mistak' her:
+    And sic twa love-inspiring een
+      Might fire even holy Palmers;
+    Nae wonder then they've fatal been
+      To honest Willie Chalmers.
+
+IV.
+
+    I doubt na fortune may you shore
+      Some mim-mou'd pouthered priestie,
+    Fu' lifted up wi' Hebrew lore,
+      And band upon his breastie:
+    But Oh! what signifies to you
+      His lexicons and grammars;
+    The feeling heart's the royal blue,
+      And that's wi' Willie Chalmers.
+
+V.
+
+    Some gapin' glowrin' countra laird,
+      May warstle for your favour;
+    May claw his lug, and straik his beard,
+      And hoast up some palaver.
+    My bonnie maid, before ye wed
+      Sic clumsy-witted hammers,
+    Seek Heaven for help, and barefit skelp
+      Awa' wi' Willie Chalmers.
+
+VI.
+
+    Forgive the Bard! my fond regard
+      For ane that shares my bosom,
+    Inspires my muse to gie 'm his dues,
+      For de'il a hair I roose him.
+    May powers aboon unite you soon,
+      And fructify your amours,--
+    And every year come in mair dear
+      To you and Willie Chalmers.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LIX.
+
+LYING AT A REVEREND FRIEND'S HOUSE ON NIGHT,
+
+THE AUTHOR LEFT THE FOLLOWING
+
+VERSES
+
+IN THE ROOM WHERE HE SLEPT.
+
+[Of the origin of those verses Gilbert Burns gives the following
+account. "The first time Robert heard the spinet played was at the house
+of Dr. Lawrie, then minister of Loudon, now in Glasgow. Dr. Lawrie has
+several daughters; one of them played; the father and the mother led
+down the dance; the rest of the sisters, the brother, the poet and the
+other guests mixed in it. It was a delightful family scene for our poet,
+then lately introduced to the world; his mind was roused to a poetic
+enthusiasm, and the stanzas were left in the room where he slept."]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O thou dread Power, who reign'st above!
+      I know thou wilt me hear,
+    When for this scene of peace and love
+      I make my prayer sincere.
+
+II.
+
+    The hoary sire--the mortal stroke,
+      Long, long, be pleased to spare;
+    To bless his filial little flock
+      And show what good men are.
+
+III.
+
+    She who her lovely offspring eyes
+      With tender hopes and fears,
+    O, bless her with a mother's joys,
+      But spare a mother's tears!
+
+IV.
+
+    Their hope--their stay--their darling youth,
+      In manhood's dawning blush--
+    Bless him, thou GOD of love and truth,
+      Up to a parent's wish!
+
+V.
+
+    The beauteous, seraph sister-band,
+      With earnest tears I pray,
+    Thous know'st the snares on ev'ry hand--
+      Guide Thou their steps alway.
+
+VI.
+
+    When soon or late they reach that coast,
+      O'er life's rough ocean driven,
+    May they rejoice, no wanderer lost,
+      A family in Heaven!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LX.
+
+TO GAVIN HAMILTON, ESQ.,
+
+MAUCHLINE.
+
+(RECOMMENDING A BOY.)
+
+[Verse seems to have been the natural language of Burns. The Master
+Tootie whose skill he records, lived in Mauchline, and dealt in cows:
+he was an artful and contriving person, great in bargaining and
+intimate with all the professional tricks by which old cows are made
+to look young, and six-pint hawkies pass for those of twelve.]
+
+
+_Mossgiel, May 3, 1786._
+
+I.
+
+    I hold it, Sir, my bounden duty,
+    To warn you how that Master Tootie,
+      Alias, Laird M'Gaun,
+    Was here to hire yon lad away
+    'Bout whom ye spak the tither day,
+      An' wad ha'e done't aff han':
+    But lest he learn the callan tricks,
+      As, faith, I muckle doubt him,
+    Like scrapin' out auld Crummie's nicks,
+      An' tellin' lies about them;
+        As lieve then, I'd have then,
+          Your clerkship he should sair,
+        If sae be, ye may be
+          Not fitted otherwhere.
+
+II.
+
+    Altho' I say't, he's gleg enough,
+    An' bout a house that's rude an' rough
+      The boy might learn to swear;
+    But then, wi' you, he'll be sae taught,
+    An' get sic fair example straught,
+      I havena ony fear.
+    Ye'll catechize him every quirk,
+      An' shore him weel wi' Hell;
+    An' gar him follow to the kirk--
+     --Ay when ye gang yoursel'.
+        If ye then, maun be then
+          Frae hame this comin' Friday;
+        Then please Sir, to lea'e Sir,
+          The orders wi' your lady.
+
+III.
+
+    My word of honour I hae gien,
+    In Paisley John's, that night at e'n,
+      To meet the Warld's worm;
+    To try to get the twa to gree,
+    An' name the airles[56] an' the fee,
+      In legal mode an' form:
+    I ken he weel a snick can draw,
+      When simple bodies let him;
+    An' if a Devil be at a',
+      In faith he's sure to get him.
+        To phrase you, an' praise you,
+          Ye ken your Laureat scorns:
+        The pray'r still, you share still,
+          Of grateful MINSTREL BURNS.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 56: The airles--earnest money.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXI.
+
+TO MR. M'ADAM,
+
+OF CRAIGEN-GILLAN.
+
+[It seems that Burns, delighted with the praise which the Laird of
+Craigen-Gillan bestowed on his verses,--probably the Jolly Beggars,
+then in the hands of Woodburn, his steward,--poured out this little
+unpremeditated natural acknowledgment.]
+
+
+    Sir, o'er a gill I gat your card,
+      I trow it made me proud;
+    See wha tak's notice o' the bard
+      I lap and cry'd fu' loud.
+
+    Now deil-ma-care about their jaw,
+      The senseless, gawky million:
+    I'll cock my nose aboon them a'--
+      I'm roos'd by Craigen-Gillan!
+
+    'Twas noble, Sir; 'twas like yoursel',
+      To grant your high protection:
+    A great man's smile, ye ken fu' well,
+      Is ay a blest infection.
+
+    Tho' by his[57] banes who in a tub
+      Match'd Macedonian Sandy!
+    On my ain legs thro' dirt and dub,
+      I independent stand ay.--
+
+    And when those legs to gude, warm kail,
+      Wi' welcome canna bear me;
+    A lee dyke-side, a sybow-tail,
+      And barley-scone shall cheer me.
+
+    Heaven spare you lang to kiss the breath
+      O' many flow'ry simmers!
+    And bless your bonnie lasses baith,
+      I'm tauld they're loosome kimmers!
+
+    And GOD bless young Dunaskin's laird,
+      The blossom of our gentry!
+    And may he wear an auld man's beard,
+      A credit to his country.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 57: Diogenes.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXII.
+
+ANSWER TO A POETICAL EPISTLE
+
+SENT TO THE AUTHOR BY A TAILOR.
+
+[The person who in the name of a Tailor took the liberty of
+admonishing Burns about his errors, is generally believed to have been
+William Simpson, the schoolmaster of Ochiltree: the verses seem about
+the measure of his capacity, and were attributed at the time to his
+hand. The natural poet took advantage of the mask in which the made
+poet concealed himself, and rained such a merciless storm upon him, as
+would have extinguished half the Tailors in Ayrshire, and made the
+amazed dominie
+
+    "Strangely fidge and fyke."
+
+It was first printed in 1801, by Stewart.]
+
+
+    What ails ye now, ye lousie b----h,
+    To thresh my back at sic a pitch?
+    Losh, man! hae mercy wi' your natch,
+                      Your bodkin's bauld,
+    I didna suffer ha'f sae much
+                      Frae Daddie Auld.
+
+    What tho' at times when I grow crouse,
+    I gie their wames a random pouse,
+    Is that enough for you to souse
+                      Your servant sae?
+    Gae mind your seam, ye prick-the-louse,
+                      An' jag-the-flae.
+
+    King David o' poetic brief,
+    Wrought 'mang the lasses sic mischief,
+    As fill'd his after life wi' grief,
+                      An' bluidy rants,
+    An' yet he's rank'd amang the chief
+                      O' lang-syne saunts.
+
+    And maybe, Tam, for a' my cants,
+    My wicked rhymes, an' druken rants,
+    I'll gie auld cloven Clootie's haunts
+                      An unco' slip yet,
+    An' snugly sit among the saunts
+                      At Davie's hip get.
+
+    But fegs, the Session says I maun
+    Gae fa' upo' anither plan,
+    Than garrin lasses cowp the cran
+                      Clean heels owre body,
+    And sairly thole their mither's ban
+                      Afore the howdy.
+
+    This leads me on, to tell for sport,
+    How I did wi' the Session sort,
+    Auld Clinkum at the inner port
+                      Cried three times--"Robin!
+    Come hither, lad, an' answer for't,
+                      Ye're blamed for jobbin'."
+
+    Wi' pinch I pat a Sunday's face on,
+    An' snoov'd away before the Session;
+    I made an open fair confession--
+                      I scorn'd to lee;
+    An' syne Mess John, beyond expression,
+                      Fell foul o' me.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXIII.
+
+TO J. RANKINE.
+
+[With the Laird of Adamhill's personal character the reader is already
+acquainted: the lady about whose frailties the rumour alluded to was
+about to rise, has not been named, and it would neither be delicate
+nor polite to guess.]
+
+
+    I am a keeper of the law
+    In some sma' points, altho' not a';
+    Some people tell me gin I fa'
+                      Ae way or ither.
+    The breaking of ae point, though sma',
+                      Breaks a' thegither
+
+    I hae been in for't once or twice,
+    And winna say o'er far for thrice,
+    Yet never met with that surprise
+                      That broke my rest,
+    But now a rumour's like to rise,
+                      A whaup's i' the nest.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXIV.
+
+LINES
+
+WRITTEN ON A BANK-NOTE.
+
+[The bank-note on which these characteristic lines were endorsed, came
+into the hands of the late James Gracie, banker in Dumfries: he knew
+the handwriting of Burns, and kept it as a curiosity. The concluding
+lines point to the year 1786, as the date of the composition.]
+
+
+      Wae worth thy power, thou cursed leaf,
+      Fell source o' a' my woe an' grief;
+      For lack o' thee I've lost my lass,
+      For lack o' thee I scrimp my glass.
+      I see the children of affliction
+      Unaided, through thy cursed restriction
+      I've seen the oppressor's cruel smile
+      Amid his hapless victim's spoil:
+      And for thy potence vainly wished,
+      To crush the villain in the dust.
+    For lack o' thee, I leave this much-lov'd shore,
+    Never, perhaps, to greet old Scotland more.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXV.
+
+A DREAM.
+
+    "Thoughts, words, and deeds, the statute blames with reason;
+    But surely dreams were ne'er indicted treason."
+
+On reading, in the public papers, the "Laureate's Ode," with the other
+parade of June 4th, 1786, the author was no sooner dropt asleep, than
+he imagined himself transported to the birth-day levee; and, in his
+dreaming fancy, made the following "Address."
+
+[The prudent friends of the poet remonstrated with him about this
+Poem, which they appeared to think would injure his fortunes and stop
+the royal bounty to which he was thought entitled. Mrs. Dunlop, and
+Mrs. Stewart, of Stair, solicited him in vain to omit it in the
+Edinburgh edition of his poems. I know of no poem for which a claim of
+being prophetic would be so successfully set up: it is full of point
+as well as of the future. The allusions require no comment.]
+
+
+    Guid-mornin' to your Majesty!
+      May Heaven augment your blisses,
+    On ev'ry new birth-day ye see,
+      A humble poet wishes!
+    My bardship here, at your levee,
+      On sic a day as this is,
+    Is sure an uncouth sight to see,
+      Amang thae birth-day dresses
+                      Sae fine this day.
+
+    I see ye're complimented thrang,
+      By many a lord an' lady;
+    "God save the King!" 's a cuckoo sang
+      That's unco easy said ay;
+    The poets, too, a venal gang,
+      Wi' rhymes weel-turn'd and ready,
+    Wad gar you trow ye ne'er do wrang,
+      But ay unerring steady,
+                      On sic a day.
+
+    For me, before a monarch's face,
+      Ev'n there I winna flatter;
+    For neither pension, post, nor place,
+      Am I your humble debtor:
+    So, nae reflection on your grace,
+      Your kingship to bespatter;
+    There's monie waur been o' the race,
+      And aiblins ane been better
+                      Than you this day.
+
+    'Tis very true, my sov'reign king,
+      My skill may weel be doubted:
+    But facts are chiels that winna ding,
+      An' downa be disputed:
+    Your royal nest beneath your wing,
+      Is e'en right reft an' clouted,
+    And now the third part of the string,
+      An' less, will gang about it
+                      Than did ae day.
+
+    Far be't frae me that I aspire
+      To blame your legislation,
+    Or say, ye wisdom want, or fire,
+      To rule this mighty nation.
+    But faith! I muckle doubt, my sire,
+      Ye've trusted ministration
+    To chaps, wha, in a barn or byre,
+      Wad better fill'd their station
+                      Than courts yon day.
+
+    And now ye've gien auld Britain peace,
+      Her broken shins to plaister;
+    Your sair taxation does her fleece,
+      Till she has scarce a tester;
+    For me, thank God, my life's a lease,
+      Nae bargain wearing faster,
+    Or, faith! I fear, that, wi' the geese,
+      I shortly boost to pasture
+                      I' the craft some day.
+
+    I'm no mistrusting Willie Pitt,
+      When taxes he enlarges,
+    (An' Will's a true guid fallow's get,
+      A name not envy spairges,)
+    That he intends to pay your debt,
+      An' lessen a' your charges;
+    But, G-d-sake! let nae saving-fit
+      Abridge your bonnie barges
+                      An' boats this day.
+
+    Adieu, my Liege! may freedom geck
+      Beneath your high protection;
+    An' may ye rax corruption's neck,
+      And gie her for dissection!
+    But since I'm here, I'll no neglect,
+      In loyal, true affection,
+    To pay your Queen, with due respect,
+      My fealty an' subjection
+                      This great birth-day
+
+    Hail, Majesty Most Excellent!
+      While nobles strive to please ye,
+    Will ye accept a compliment
+      A simple poet gi'es ye?
+    Thae bonnie bairntime, Heav'n has lent,
+      Still higher may they heeze ye
+    In bliss, till fate some day is sent,
+      For ever to release ye
+                      Frae care that day.
+
+    For you, young potentate o' Wales,
+      I tell your Highness fairly,
+    Down pleasure's stream, wi' swelling sails,
+      I'm tauld ye're driving rarely;
+    But some day ye may gnaw your nails,
+      An' curse your folly sairly,
+    That e'er ye brak Diana's pales,
+      Or rattl'd dice wi' Charlie,
+                      By night or day.
+
+    Yet aft a ragged cowte's been known
+      To mak a noble aiver;
+    So, ye may doucely fill a throne,
+      For a' their clish-ma-claver:
+    There, him at Agincourt wha shone,
+      Few better were or braver;
+    And yet, wi' funny, queer Sir John,
+      He was an unco shaver
+                      For monie a day.
+
+    For you, right rev'rend Osnaburg,
+      Nane sets the lawn-sleeve sweeter,
+    Altho' a ribbon at your lug,
+      Wad been a dress completer:
+    As ye disown yon paughty dog
+      That bears the keys of Peter,
+    Then, swith! an' get a wife to hug,
+      Or, trouth! ye'll stain the mitre
+                      Some luckless day.
+
+    Young, royal Tarry Breeks, I learn,
+      Ye've lately come athwart her;
+    A glorious galley,[58] stem an' stern,
+      Weel rigg'd for Venus' barter;
+    But first hang out, that she'll discern
+      Your hymeneal charter,
+    Then heave aboard your grapple airn,
+      An', large upon her quarter,
+                      Come full that day.
+
+    Ye, lastly, bonnie blossoms a',
+      Ye royal lasses dainty,
+    Heav'n mak you guid as weel as braw,
+      An' gie you lads a-plenty:
+    But sneer na British Boys awa',
+      For kings are unco scant ay;
+    An' German gentles are but sma',
+      They're better just than want ay
+                      On onie day.
+
+    God bless you a'! consider now,
+      Ye're unco muckle dautet;
+    But ere the course o' life be thro',
+      It may be bitter sautet:
+    An' I hae seen their coggie fou,
+      That yet hae tarrow't at it;
+    But or the day was done, I trow,
+      The laggen they hae clautet
+                      Fu' clean that day.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 58: Alluding to the newspaper account of a certain royal
+sailor's amour]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXVI.
+
+A BARD'S EPITAPH.
+
+[This beautiful and affecting poem was printed in the Kilmarnock
+edition: Wordsworth writes with his usual taste and feeling about it:
+"Whom did the poet intend should be thought of, as occupying that
+grave, over which, after modestly setting forth the moral discernment
+and warm affections of the 'poor inhabitant' it is supposed to be
+inscribed that
+
+    'Thoughtless follies laid him low,
+                      And stained his name!'
+
+Who but himself--himself anticipating the but too probable termination
+of his own course? Here is a sincere and solemn avowal--a confession
+at once devout, poetical, and human--a history in the shape of a
+prophecy! What more was required of the biographer, than to have put
+his seal to the writing, testifying that the foreboding had been
+realized and that the record was authentic?"]
+
+
+    Is there a whim-inspired fool,
+    Owre fast for thought, owre hot for rule,
+    Owre blate to seek, owre proud to snool,
+                      Let him draw near;
+    And owre this grassy heap sing dool,
+                      And drap a tear.
+
+    Is there a bard of rustic song,
+    Who, noteless, steals the crowds among,
+    That weekly this area throng,
+                      O, pass not by!
+    But with a frater-feeling strong,
+                      Here heave a sigh.
+
+    Is there a man, whose judgment clear,
+    Can others teach the course to steer,
+    Yet runs, himself, life's mad career,
+                      Wild as the wave;
+    Here pause--and, through the starting tear,
+                      Survey this grave.
+
+    The poor inhabitant below
+    Was quick to learn and wise to know,
+    And keenly felt the friendly glow,
+                      And softer flame,
+    But thoughtless follies laid him low,
+                      And stain'd his name!
+
+    Reader, attend--whether thy soul
+    Soars fancy's flights beyond the pole,
+    Or darkling grubs this earthly hole,
+                      In low pursuit;
+    Know, prudent, cautious self-control,
+                      Is wisdom's root.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXVII.
+
+THE TWA DOGS.
+
+A TALE.
+
+[Cromek, an anxious and curious inquirer, informed me, that the Twa
+Dogs was in a half-finished state, when the poet consulted John
+Wilson, the printer, about the Kilmarnock edition. On looking over the
+manuscripts, the printer, with a sagacity common to his profession,
+said, "The Address to the Deil" and "The Holy Fair" were grand things,
+but it would be as well to have a calmer and sedater strain, to put at
+the front of the volume. Burns was struck with the remark, and on his
+way home to Mossgiel, completed the Poem, and took it next day to
+Kilmarnock, much to the satisfaction of "Wee Johnnie." On the 17th
+February Burns says to John Richmond, of Mauchline, "I have completed
+my Poem of the Twa Dogs, but have not shown it to the world." It is
+difficult to fix the dates with anything like accuracy, to
+compositions which are not struck off at one heat of the fancy. "Luath
+was one of the poet's dogs, which some person had wantonly killed,"
+says Gilbert Burns; "but Caesar was merely the creature of the
+imagination." The Ettrick Shepherd, a judge of collies, says that
+Luath is true to the life, and that many a hundred times he has seen
+the dogs bark for very joy, when the cottage children were merry.]
+
+
+    Twas in that place o' Scotland's isle
+    That bears the name o' Auld King Coil,
+    Upon a bonnie day in June,
+    When wearing through the afternoon,
+    Twa dogs that were na thrang at hame,
+    Forgather'd ance upon a time.
+    The first I'll name, they ca'd him Caesar,
+    Was keepit for his honour's pleasure;
+    His hair, his size, his mouth, his lugs,
+    Show'd he was nane o' Scotland's dogs;
+    But whalpit some place far abroad,
+    Where sailors gang to fish for cod.
+
+    His locked, letter'd, braw brass collar
+    Show'd him the gentleman and scholar;
+    But though he was o' high degree,
+    The fient a pride--nae pride had he;
+    But wad hae spent an hour caressin',
+    Ev'n wi' a tinkler-gypsey's messin'.
+    At kirk or market, mill or smiddie,
+    Nae tawted tyke, though e'er sae duddie,
+    But he wad stan't, as glad to see him,
+    And stroan't on stanes and hillocks wi' him.
+
+    The tither was a ploughman's collie,
+    A rhyming, ranting, raving billie,
+    Wha for his friend an' comrade had him,
+    And in his freaks had Luath ca'd him,
+    After some dog in Highland sang,[59]
+    Was made lang syne--Lord know how lang.
+
+    He was a gash an' faithful tyke,
+    As ever lap a sheugh or dyke.
+    His honest, sonsie, baws'nt face,
+    Ay gat him friends in ilka place.
+    His breast was white, his touzie back
+    Weel clad wi' coat o' glossy black;
+    His gaucie tail, wi' upward curl,
+    Hung o'er his hurdies wi' a swirl.
+
+    Nae doubt but they were fain o' ither,
+    An' unco pack an' thick thegither;
+    Wi' social nose whyles snuff'd and snowkit,
+    Whyles mice and moudiewarts they howkit;
+    Whyles scour'd awa in lang excursion,
+    An' worry'd ither in diversion;
+    Until wi' daffin weary grown,
+    Upon a knowe they sat them down,
+    And there began a lang digression
+    About the lords o' the creation.
+
+CAESAR.
+
+    I've aften wonder'd, honest Luath,
+    What sort o' life poor dogs like you have;
+    An' when the gentry's life I saw,
+    What way poor bodies liv'd ava.
+
+    Our laird gets in his racked rents,
+    His coals, his kain, and a' his stents;
+    He rises when he likes himsel';
+    His flunkies answer at the bell;
+    He ca's his coach, he ca's his horse;
+    He draws a bonnie silken purse
+    As lang's my tail, whare, through the steeks,
+    The yellow letter'd Geordie keeks.
+
+    Frae morn to e'en its nought but toiling,
+    At baking, roasting, frying, boiling;
+    An' though the gentry first are stechin,
+    Yet even the ha' folk fill their pechan
+    Wi' sauce, ragouts, and sic like trashtrie,
+    That's little short o' downright wastrie.
+    Our whipper-in, wee, blastit wonner,
+    Poor worthless elf, eats a dinner,
+    Better than ony tenant man
+    His honour has in a' the lan';
+    An' what poor cot-folk pit their painch in,
+    I own it's past my comprehension.
+
+LUATH.
+
+    Trowth, Caesar, whyles they're fash't eneugh
+    A cotter howkin in a sheugh,
+    Wi' dirty stanes biggin' a dyke,
+    Baring a quarry, and sic like;
+    Himself, a wife, he thus sustains,
+    A smytrie o' wee duddie weans,
+    An' nought but his han' darg, to keep
+    Them right and tight in thack an' rape.
+
+    An' when they meet wi' sair disasters,
+    Like loss o' health, or want o' masters,
+    Ye maist wad think a wee touch langer
+    An' they maun starve o' cauld and hunger;
+    But, how it comes, I never kenn'd yet,
+    They're maistly wonderfu' contented:
+    An' buirdly chiels, an' clever hizzies,
+    Are bred in sic a way as this is.
+
+CAESAR.
+
+    But then to see how ye're negleckit,
+    How huff'd, and cuff'd, and disrespeckit!
+    L--d, man, our gentry care as little
+    For delvers, ditchers, an' sic cattle;
+    They gang as saucy by poor folk,
+    As I wad by a stinking brock.
+
+    I've notic'd, on our Laird's court-day,
+    An' mony a time my heart's been wae,
+    Poor tenant bodies, scant o' cash,
+    How they maun thole a factor's snash:
+    He'll stamp an' threaten, curse an' swear,
+    He'll apprehend them, poind their gear;
+    While they maun stan', wi' aspect humble,
+    An' hear it a', an' fear an' tremble!
+
+    I see how folk live that hae riches;
+    But surely poor folk maun be wretches!
+
+LUATH.
+
+    They're no sae wretched's ane wad think;
+    Tho' constantly on poortith's brink:
+    They're sae accustom'd wi' the sight,
+    The view o't gies them little fright.
+    Then chance an' fortune are sae guided,
+    They're ay in less or mair provided;
+    An' tho' fatigu'd wi' close employment,
+    A blink o' rest's a sweet enjoyment.
+
+    The dearest comfort o' their lives,
+    Their grushie weans, an' faithfu' wives;
+    The prattling things are just their pride,
+    That sweetens a' their fire-side;
+    An' whyles twalpennie worth o' nappy
+    Can mak' the bodies unco happy;
+    They lay aside their private cares,
+    To mind the Kirk and State affairs:
+    They'll talk o' patronage and priests;
+    Wi' kindling fury in their breasts;
+    Or tell what new taxation's comin',
+    And ferlie at the folk in Lon'on.
+
+    As bleak-fac'd Hallowmass returns,
+    They get the jovial, ranting kirns,
+    When rural life, o' ev'ry station,
+    Unite in common recreation;
+    Love blinks, Wit slaps, an' social Mirth
+    Forgets there's Care upo' the earth.
+
+    That merry day the year begins,
+    They bar the door on frosty win's;
+    The nappy reeks wi' mantling ream,
+    An' sheds a heart-inspiring steam;
+    The luntin pipe, an sneeshin mill,
+    Are handed round wi' right guid will;
+    The cantie auld folks crackin' crouse,
+    The young anes rantin' thro' the house,--
+    My heart has been sae fain to see them,
+    That I for joy hae barkit wi' them.
+
+    Still it's owre true that ye hae said,
+    Sic game is now owre aften play'd.
+    There's monie a creditable stock
+    O' decent, honest, fawsont folk,
+    Are riven out baith root and branch,
+    Some rascal's pridefu' greed to quench,
+    Wha thinks to knit himsel' the faster
+    In favour wi' some gentle master,
+    Wha aiblins, thrang a parliamentin',
+    For Britain's guid his saul indentin'--
+
+CAESAR.
+
+    Haith, lad, ye little ken about it!
+    For Britain's guid! guid faith, I doubt it!
+    Say rather, gaun as Premiers lead him,
+    An' saying, aye or no's they bid him,
+    At operas an' plays parading,
+    Mortgaging, gambling, masquerading;
+    Or may be, in a frolic daft,
+    To Hague or Calais takes a waft,
+    To mak a tour, an' tak' a whirl,
+    To learn _bon ton_, an' see the worl'.
+
+    There, at Vienna or Versailles,
+    He rives his father's auld entails;
+    Or by Madrid he takes the rout,
+    To thrum guitars, an' fecht wi' nowt;
+    Or down Italian vista startles,
+    Wh--re-hunting amang groves o' myrtles
+    Then bouses drumly German water,
+    To mak' himsel' look fair and fatter,
+    An' clear the consequential sorrows,
+    Love-gifts of carnival signoras.
+    For Britain's guid!--for her destruction
+    Wi' dissipation, feud, an' faction.
+
+LUATH.
+
+    Hech, man! dear sirs! is that the gate
+    They waste sae mony a braw estate!
+    Are we sae foughten an' harass'd
+    For gear to gang that gate at last!
+
+    O, would they stay aback frae courts,
+    An' please themsels wi' countra sports,
+    It wad for ev'ry ane be better,
+    The Laird, the Tenant, an' the Cotter!
+    For thae frank, rantin', ramblin' billies,
+    Fient haet o' them's ill-hearted fellows;
+    Except for breakin' o' their timmer,
+    Or speakin' lightly o' their limmer,
+    Or shootin' o' a hare or moor-cock,
+    The ne'er a bit they're ill to poor folk.
+
+    But will ye tell me, Master Caesar,
+    Sure great folk's life's a life o' pleasure?
+    Nae cauld or hunger e'er can steer them,
+    The vera thought o't need na fear them.
+
+CAESAR.
+
+    L--d, man, were ye but whyles whare I am,
+    The gentles ye wad ne'er envy 'em.
+
+    It's true, they needna starve or sweat,
+    Thro' winters cauld, or simmer's heat;
+    They've nae sair wark to craze their banes,
+    An' fill auld age wi' grips an' granes:
+    But human bodies are sic fools,
+    For a' their colleges and schools,
+    That when nae real ills perplex them,
+    They mak enow themsels to vex them;
+    An' ay the less they hae to sturt them,
+    In like proportion, less will hurt them.
+
+    A country fellow at the pleugh,
+    His acres till'd, he's right eneugh;
+    A country girl at her wheel,
+    Her dizzen's done, she's unco weel:
+    But Gentlemen, an' Ladies warst,
+    Wi' ev'n down want o' wark are curst.
+    They loiter, lounging, lank, an' lazy;
+    Tho' deil haet ails them, yet uneasy;
+    Their days insipid, dull, an' tasteless;
+    Their nights unquiet, lang an' restless;
+    An' even their sports, their balls an' races,
+    Their galloping thro' public places,
+    There's sic parade, sic pomp, an' art,
+    The joy can scarcely reach the heart.
+    The men cast out in party matches,
+    Then sowther a' in deep debauches;
+    Ae night they're mad wi' drink and wh-ring,
+    Niest day their life is past enduring.
+    The Ladies arm-in-arm in clusters,
+    As great and gracious a' as sisters;
+    But hear their absent thoughts o' ither,
+    They're a' run deils an' jads thegither.
+    Whyles, o'er the wee bit cup an' platie,
+    They sip the scandal potion pretty;
+    Or lee-lang nights, wi' crabbit leuks
+    Pore owre the devil's pictur'd beuks;
+    Stake on a chance a farmer's stack-yard,
+    An' cheat like onie unhang'd blackguard.
+
+    There's some exception, man an' woman;
+    But this is Gentry's life in common.
+
+    By this, the sun was out o' sight,
+    An' darker gloaming brought the night:
+    The bum-clock humm'd wi' lazy drone;
+    The kye stood rowtin i' the loan;
+    When up they gat, and shook their lugs,
+    Rejoic'd they were na men, but dogs;
+    An' each took aff his several way,
+    Resolv'd to meet some ither day.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 59: Cuchullin's dog in Ossian's Fingal.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXVIII.
+
+LINES
+
+ON
+
+MEETING WITH LORD DAER.
+
+["The first time I saw Robert Burns," says Dugald Stewart, "was on the
+23rd of October, 1786, when he dined at my house in Ayrshire, together
+with our common friend, John Mackenzie, surgeon in Mauchline, to whom I
+am indebted for the pleasure of his acquaintance. My excellent and
+much-lamented friend, the late Basil, Lord Daer, happened to arrive at
+Catrine the same day, and, by the kindness and frankness of his manners,
+left an impression on the mind of the poet which was never effaced. The
+verses which the poet wrote on the occasion are among the most imperfect
+of his pieces, but a few stanzas may perhaps be a matter of curiosity,
+both on account of the character to which they relate and the light
+which they throw on the situation and the feelings of the writer before
+his work was known to the public." Basil, Lord Daer, the uncle of the
+present Earl of Selkirk, was born in the year 1769, at the family seat
+of St. Mary's Isle: he distinguished himself early at school, and at
+college excelled in literature and science; he had a greater regard for
+democracy than was then reckoned consistent with his birth and rank. He
+was, when Burns met him, in his twenty-third year; was very tall,
+something careless in his dress, and had the taste and talent common to
+his distinguished family. He died in his thirty-third year.]
+
+
+    This wot ye all whom it concerns,
+    I, Rhymer Robin, alias Burns,
+                October twenty-third,
+    A ne'er-to-be-forgotten day,
+    Sae far I sprachled up the brae,
+                I dinner'd wi' a Lord.
+
+    I've been at druken writers' feasts,
+    Nay, been bitch-fou' 'mang godly priests,
+                Wi' rev'rence be it spoken:
+    I've even join'd the honour'd jorum,
+    When mighty squireships of the quorum
+                Their hydra drouth did sloken.
+
+    But wi' a Lord--stand out, my shin!
+    A Lord--a Peer--an Earl's son!--
+                Up higher yet, my bonnet!
+    And sic a Lord!--lang Scotch ells twa,
+    Our Peerage he o'erlooks them a',
+                As I look o'er my sonnet.
+
+    But, oh! for Hogarth's magic pow'r!
+    To show Sir Bardie's willyart glow'r,
+                And how he star'd and stammer'd,
+    When goavan, as if led wi' branks,
+    An' stumpan on his ploughman shanks,
+                He in the parlour hammer'd.
+
+    I sidling shelter'd in a nook,
+    An' at his lordship steal't a look,
+                Like some portentous omen;
+    Except good sense and social glee,
+    An' (what surpris'd me) modesty,
+                I marked nought uncommon.
+
+    I watch'd the symptoms o' the great,
+    The gentle pride, the lordly state,
+                The arrogant assuming;
+    The fient a pride, nae pride had he,
+    Nor sauce, nor state, that I could see,
+                Mair than an honest ploughman.
+
+    Then from his lordship I shall learn,
+    Henceforth to meet with unconcern
+                One rank as weel's another;
+    Nae honest worthy man need care
+    To meet with noble youthful Daer,
+                For he but meets a brother.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXIX.
+
+ADDRESS TO EDINBURGH.
+
+["I enclose you two poems," said Burns to his friend Chalmers, "which
+I have carded and spun since I passed Glenbuck. One blank in the
+Address to Edinburgh, 'Fair B----,' is the heavenly Miss Burnet,
+daughter to Lord Monboddo, at whose house I have had the honour to be
+more than once. There has not been anything nearly like her, in all
+the combinations of beauty, grace, and goodness the great Creator has
+formed, since Milton's Eve, on the first day of her existence." Lord
+Monboddo made himself ridiculous by his speculations on human nature,
+and acceptable by his kindly manners and suppers in the manner of the
+ancients, where his viands were spread under ambrosial lights, and his
+Falernian was wreathed with flowers. At these suppers Burns sometimes
+made his appearance. The "Address" was first printed in the Edinburgh
+edition: the poet's hopes were then high, and his compliments, both to
+town and people, were elegant and happy.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Edina! Scotia's darling seat!
+      All hail thy palaces and tow'rs,
+    Where once beneath a monarch's feet
+      Sat Legislation's sov'reign pow'rs!
+    From marking wildly-scatter'd flow'rs,
+      As on the banks of Ayr I stray'd,
+    And singing, lone, the ling'ring hours,
+      I shelter in thy honour'd shade.
+
+II.
+
+    Here wealth still swells the golden tide,
+      As busy Trade his labour plies;
+    There Architecture's noble pride
+      Bids elegance and splendour rise;
+    Here Justice, from her native skies,
+      High wields her balance and her rod;
+    There Learning, with his eagle eyes,
+      Seeks Science in her coy abode.
+
+III.
+
+    Thy sons, Edina! social, kind,
+      With open arms the stranger hail;
+    Their views enlarg'd, their liberal mind,
+      Above the narrow, rural vale;
+    Attentive still to sorrow's wail,
+      Or modest merit's silent claim;
+    And never may their sources fail!
+      And never envy blot their name!
+
+IV.
+
+    Thy daughters bright thy walks adorn,
+      Gay as the gilded summer sky,
+    Sweet as the dewy milk-white thorn,
+      Dear as the raptur'd thrill of joy!
+    Fair Burnet strikes th' adoring eye,
+      Heav'n's beauties on my fancy shine;
+    I see the Sire of Love on high,
+      And own his work indeed divine!
+
+V.
+
+    There, watching high the least alarms,
+      Thy rough, rude fortress gleams afar,
+    Like some bold vet'ran, gray in arms,
+      And mark'd with many a seamy scar:
+    The pond'rous wall and massy bar,
+      Grim-rising o'er the rugged rock,
+    Have oft withstood assailing war,
+      And oft repell'd th' invader's shock.
+
+VI.
+
+    With awe-struck thought, and pitying tears,
+      I view that noble, stately dome,
+    Where Scotia's kings of other years,
+      Fam'd heroes! had their royal home:
+    Alas, how chang'd the times to come!
+      Their royal name low in the dust!
+    Their hapless race wild-wand'ring roam,
+      Tho' rigid law cries out, 'twas just!
+
+VII.
+
+    Wild beats my heart to trace your steps,
+      Whose ancestors, in days of yore,
+    Thro' hostile ranks and ruin'd gaps
+      Old Scotia's bloody lion bore:
+    Ev'n I who sing in rustic lore,
+      Haply, my sires have left their shed,
+    And fac'd grim danger's loudest roar,
+      Bold-following where your fathers led!
+
+VIII.
+
+    Edina! Scotia's darling seat!
+      All hail thy palaces and tow'rs,
+    Where once beneath a monarch's feet
+      Sat Legislation's sov'reign pow'rs!
+    From marking wildly-scatter'd flow'rs,
+      As on the hanks of Ayr I stray'd,
+    And singing, lone, the ling'ring hours,
+      I shelter in thy honour'd shade.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXX.
+
+EPISTLE TO MAJOR LOGAN.
+
+[Major Logan, of Camlarg, lived, when this hasty Poem was written,
+with his mother and sister at Parkhouse, near Ayr. He was a good
+musician, a joyous companion, and something of a wit. The Epistle was
+printed, for the first time, in my edition of Burns, in 1834, and
+since then no other edition has wanted it.]
+
+
+    Hail, thairm-inspirin', rattlin' Willie!
+    Though fortune's road be rough an' hilly
+    To every fiddling, rhyming billie,
+                      We never heed,
+    But tak' it like the unback'd filly,
+                      Proud o' her speed.
+
+    When idly goavan whyles we saunter
+    Yirr, fancy barks, awa' we canter
+    Uphill, down brae, till some mishanter,
+                      Some black bog-hole,
+    Arrests us, then the scathe an' banter
+                      We're forced to thole.
+
+    Hale be your heart! Hale be your fiddle!
+    Lang may your elbuck jink and diddle,
+    To cheer you through the weary widdle
+                      O' this wild warl',
+    Until you on a crummock driddle
+                      A gray-hair'd carl.
+
+    Come wealth, come poortith, late or soon,
+    Heaven send your heart-strings ay in tune,
+    And screw your temper pins aboon
+                      A fifth or mair,
+    The melancholious, lazy croon
+                      O' cankrie care.
+
+    May still your life from day to day
+    Nae "lente largo" in the play,
+    But "allegretto forte" gay
+                      Harmonious flow:
+    A sweeping, kindling, bauld strathspey--
+                      Encore! Bravo!
+
+    A blessing on the cheery gang
+    Wha dearly like a jig or sang,
+    An' never think o' right an' wrang
+                      By square an' rule,
+    But as the clegs o' feeling stang
+                      Are wise or fool.
+
+    My hand-waled curse keep hard in chase
+    The harpy, hoodock, purse-proud race,
+    Wha count on poortith as disgrace--
+                      Their tuneless hearts!
+    May fireside discords jar a base
+                      To a' their parts!
+
+    But come, your hand, my careless brither,
+    I' th' ither warl', if there's anither,
+    An' that there is I've little swither
+                      About the matter;
+    We check for chow shall jog thegither,
+                      I'se ne'er bid better.
+
+    We've faults and failings--granted clearly,
+    We're frail backsliding mortals merely,
+    Eve's bonny squad, priests wyte them sheerly
+                      For our grand fa';
+    But stilt, but still, I like them dearly--
+                      God bless them a'!
+
+    Ochon! for poor Castalian drinkers,
+    When they fa' foul o' earthly jinkers,
+    The witching curs'd delicious blinkers
+                      Hae put me hyte,
+    And gart me weet my waukrife winkers,
+                      Wi' girnan spite.
+
+    But by yon moon!--and that's high swearin'--
+    An' every star within my hearin'!
+    An' by her een wha was a dear ane!
+                      I'll ne'er forget;
+    I hope to gie the jads a clearin'
+                      In fair play yet.
+
+    My loss I mourn, but not repent it,
+    I'll seek my pursie whare I tint it,
+    Ance to the Indies I were wonted,
+                      Some cantraip hour,
+    By some sweet elf I'll yet be dinted,
+                      Then, _vive l'amour_!
+
+    _Faites mes baisemains respectueuse_,
+    To sentimental sister Susie,
+    An' honest Lucky; no to roose you,
+                      Ye may be proud,
+    That sic a couple fate allows ye
+                      To grace your blood.
+
+    Nae mair at present can I measure,
+    An' trowth my rhymin' ware's nae treasure;
+    But when in Ayr, some half-hour's leisure,
+                      Be't light, be't dark,
+    Sir Bard will do himself the pleasure
+                      To call at Park.
+
+ROBERT BURNS.
+
+_Mossgiel, 30th October_, 1786.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXI.
+
+THE BRIGS OF AYR,
+
+A POEM,
+
+INSCRIBED TO J. BALLANTYNE, ESQ., AYR.
+
+[Burns took the hint of this Poem from the Planestanes and Causeway of
+Fergusson, but all that lends it life and feeling belongs to his own
+heart and his native Ayr: he wrote it for the second edition of his
+poems, and in compliment to the patrons of his genius in the west.
+Ballantyne, to whom the Poem is inscribed, was generous when the
+distresses of his farming speculations pressed upon him: others of his
+friends figure in the scene: Montgomery's courage, the learning of
+Dugald Stewart, and condescension and kindness of Mrs. General
+Stewart, of Stair, are gratefully recorded.]
+
+
+    The simple Bard, rough at the rustic plough,
+    Learning his tuneful trade from ev'ry bough;
+    The chanting linnet, or the mellow thrush,
+    Hailing the setting sun, sweet, in the green thorn bush:
+    The soaring lark, the perching red-breast shrill,
+    Or deep-ton'd plovers, gray, wild-whistling o'er the hill;
+    Shall he, nurst in the peasant's lowly shed,
+    To hardy independence bravely bred,
+    By early poverty to hardship steel'd,
+    And train'd to arms in stern misfortune's field--
+    Shall he be guilty of their hireling crimes,
+    The servile, mercenary Swiss of rhymes?
+    Or labour hard the panegyric close,
+    With all the venal soul of dedicating prose?
+    No! though his artless strains he rudely sings,
+    And throws his hand uncouthly o'er the strings,
+    He glows with all the spirit of the Bard,
+    Fame, honest fame, his great, his dear reward!
+    Still, if some patron's gen'rous care he trace,
+    Skill'd in the secret to bestow with grace;
+    When Ballantyne befriends his humble name,
+    And hands the rustic stranger up to fame,
+    With heart-felt throes his grateful bosom swells,
+    The godlike bliss, to give, alone excels.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    'Twas when the stacks get on their winter hap,
+    And thack and rape secure the toil-won crap;
+    Potato-bings are snugged up frae skaith
+    Of coming Winter's biting, frosty breath;
+    The bees, rejoicing o'er their summer toils,
+    Unnumber'd buds, an' flow'rs delicious spoils,
+    Seal'd up with frugal care in massive waxen piles,
+    Are doom'd by man, that tyrant o'er the weak,
+    The death o' devils smoor'd wi' brimstone reek
+    The thundering guns are heard on ev'ry side,
+    The wounded coveys, reeling, scatter wide;
+    The feather'd field-mates, bound by Nature's tie,
+    Sires, mothers, children, in one carnage lie:
+    (What warm, poetic heart, but inly bleeds,
+    And execrates man's savage, ruthless deeds!)
+    Nae mair the flow'r in field or meadow springs;
+    Nae mair the grove with airy concert rings,
+    Except, perhaps, the robin's whistling glee,
+    Proud o' the height o' some bit half-lang tree:
+    The hoary morns precede the sunny days,
+    Mild, calm, serene, wide spreads the noontide blaze,
+    While thick the gossamer waves wanton in the rays.
+    'Twas in that season, when a simple bard,
+    Unknown and poor, simplicity's reward,
+    Ae night, within the ancient brugh of Ayr,
+    By whim inspired, or haply prest wi' care,
+    He left his bed, and took his wayward rout,
+    And down by Simpson's[60] wheel'd the left about:
+    (Whether impell'd by all-directing Fate,
+    To witness what I after shall narrate;
+    Or whether, rapt in meditation high,
+    He wander'd out he knew not where nor why)
+    The drowsy Dungeon-clock,[61] had number'd two,
+    And Wallace Tow'r[61] had sworn the fact was true:
+    The tide-swol'n Firth, with sullen sounding roar,
+    Through the still night dash'd hoarse along the shore.
+    All else was hush'd as Nature's closed e'e:
+    The silent moon shone high o'er tow'r and tree:
+    The chilly frost, beneath the silver beam,
+    Crept, gently-crusting, o'er the glittering stream.--
+
+    When, lo! on either hand the list'ning Bard,
+    The clanging sugh of whistling wings is heard;
+    Two dusky forms dart thro' the midnight air,
+    Swift as the gos[62] drives on the wheeling hare;
+    Ane on th' Auld Brig his airy shape uprears,
+    The ither flutters o'er the rising piers:
+    Our warlock Rhymer instantly descry'd
+    The Sprites that owre the brigs of Ayr preside.
+    (That Bards are second-sighted is nae joke,
+    And ken the lingo of the sp'ritual folk;
+    Fays, Spunkies, Kelpies, a', they can explain them,
+    And ev'n the vera deils they brawly ken them.)
+    Auld Brig appear'd of ancient Pictish race,
+    The very wrinkles gothic in his face:
+    He seem'd as he wi' Time had warstl'd lang,
+    Yet, teughly doure, he bade an unco bang.
+    New Brig was buskit in a braw new coat,
+    That he at Lon'on, frae ane Adams got;
+    In's hand five taper staves as smooth's a bead,
+    Wi' virls and whirlygigums at the head.
+    The Goth was stalking round with anxious search,
+    Spying the time-worn flaws in ev'ry arch;--
+    It chanc'd his new-come neebor took his e'e,
+    And e'en a vex'd and angry heart had he!
+    Wi' thieveless sneer to see his modish mien,
+    He, down the water, gies him this guid-e'en:--
+
+AULD BRIG.
+
+      I doubt na', frien', ye'll think ye're nae sheep-shank,
+    Ance ye were streekit o'er frae bank to bank!
+    But gin ye be a brig as auld as me,
+    Tho' faith, that day I doubt ye'll never see;
+    There'll be, if that date come, I'll wad a boddle,
+    Some fewer whigmeleeries in your noddle.
+
+NEW BRIG.
+
+      Auld Vandal, ye but show your little mense,
+    Just much about it wi' your scanty sense;
+    Will your poor, narrow foot-path of a street,
+    Where twa wheel-barrows tremble when they meet--
+    Your ruin'd formless bulk o' stane en' lime,
+    Compare wi' bonnie Brigs o' modern time?
+    There's men o' taste wou'd tak the Ducat-stream,[63]
+    Tho' they should cast the vera sark and swim,
+    Ere they would grate their feelings wi' the view
+    Of sic an ugly, Gothic hulk as you.
+
+AULD BRIG.
+
+      Conceited gowk! puff'd up wi' windy pride!--
+    This mony a year I've stood the flood an' tide;
+    And tho' wi' crazy eild I'm sair forfairn,
+    I'll be a Brig, when ye're a shapeless cairn!
+    As yet ye little ken about the matter,
+    But twa-three winters will inform ye better.
+    When heavy, dark, continued a'-day rains,
+    Wi' deepening deluges o'erflow the plains;
+    When from the hills where springs the brawling Coil,
+    Or stately Lugar's mossy fountains boil,
+    Or where the Greenock winds his moorland course,
+    Or haunted Garpal[64] draws his feeble source,
+    Arous'd by blust'ring winds an' spotting thowes,
+    In mony a torrent down the snaw-broo rowes;
+    While crashing ice born on the roaring speat,
+    Sweeps dams, an' mills, an' brigs, a' to the gate;
+    And from Glenbuck,[65] down to the Ratton-key,[66]
+    Auld Ayr is just one lengthen'd tumbling sea--
+    Then down ye'll hurl, deil nor ye never rise!
+    And dash the gumlie jaups up to the pouring skies.
+    A lesson sadly teaching, to your cost,
+    That Architecture's noble art is lost!
+
+NEW BRIG.
+
+      Fine Architecture, trowth, I needs must say't o't!
+    The L--d be thankit that we've tint the gate o't!
+    Gaunt, ghastly, ghaist-alluring edifices,
+    Hanging with threat'ning jut like precipices;
+    O'er-arching, mouldy, gloom-inspiring coves,
+    Supporting roofs fantastic, stony groves;
+    Windows and doors, in nameless sculpture drest,
+    With order, symmetry, or taste unblest;
+    Forms like some bedlam Statuary's dream,
+    The craz'd creations of misguided whim;
+    Forms might be worshipp'd on the bended knee,
+    And still the second dread command be free,
+    Their likeness is not found on earth, in air, or sea.
+    Mansions that would disgrace the building taste
+    Of any mason reptile, bird or beast;
+    Fit only for a doited monkish race,
+    Or frosty maids forsworn the dear embrace;
+    Or cuifs of later times wha held the notion
+    That sullen gloom was sterling true devotion;
+    Fancies that our guid Brugh denies protection!
+    And soon may they expire, unblest with resurrection!
+
+AULD BRIG.
+
+      O ye, my dear-remember'd ancient yealings,
+    Were ye but here to share my wounded feelings!
+    Ye worthy Proveses, an' mony a Bailie,
+    Wha in the paths o' righteousness did toil ay;
+    Ye dainty Deacons and ye douce Conveeners,
+    To whom our moderns are but causey-cleaners:
+    Ye godly Councils wha hae blest this town;
+    Ye godly Brethren o' the sacred gown,
+    Wha meekly gie your hurdies to the smiters;
+    And (what would now be strange) ye godly writers;
+    A' ye douce folk I've borne aboon the broo,
+    Were ye but here, what would ye say or do!
+    How would your spirits groan in deep vexation,
+    To see each melancholy alteration;
+    And, agonizing, curse the time and place
+    When ye begat the base, degen'rate race!
+    Nae langer rev'rend men, their country's glory,
+    In plain braid Scots hold forth a plain braid story!
+    Nae langer thrifty citizens an' douce,
+    Meet owre a pint, or in the council-house;
+    But staumrel, corky-headed, graceless gentry,
+    The herryment and ruin of the country;
+    Men, three parts made by tailors and by barbers,
+    Wha waste your weel-hain'd gear on d--d new Brigs and Harbours!
+
+NEW BRIG.
+
+      Now haud you there! for faith ye've said enough,
+    And muckle mair than ye can mak to through;
+    As for your Priesthood, I shall say but little,
+    Corbies and Clergy, are a shot right kittle:
+    But under favour o' your langer beard,
+    Abuse o' Magistrates might weel be spar'd:
+    To liken them to your auld-warld squad,
+    I must needs say, comparisons are odd.
+    In Ayr, wag-wits nae mair can have a handle
+    To mouth 'a citizen,' a term o' scandal;
+    Nae mair the Council waddles down the street,
+    In all the pomp of ignorant conceit;
+    Men wha grew wise priggin' owre hops an' raisins,
+    Or gather'd lib'ral views in bonds and seisins,
+    If haply Knowledge, on a random tramp,
+    Had shor'd them with a glimmer of his lamp,
+    And would to Common-sense for once betray'd them,
+    Plain, dull Stupidity stept kindly in to aid them
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+      What farther clishmaclaver might been said,
+    What bloody wars, if Spirites had blood to shed,
+    No man can tell; but all before their sight,
+    A fairy train appear'd in order bright:
+    Adown the glitt'ring stream they featly danc'd;
+    Bright to the moon their various dresses glanc'd:
+    They footed owre the wat'ry glass so neat,
+    The infant ice scarce bent beneath their feet:
+    While arts of minstrelsy among them rung,
+    And soul-ennobling bards heroic ditties sung.--
+    O had M'Lauchlan,[67] thairm-inspiring Sage,
+    Been there to hear this heavenly band engage,
+    When thro' his dear strathspeys they bore with highland rage;
+    Or when they struck old Scotia's melting airs,
+    The lover's raptur'd joys or bleeding cares;
+    How would his highland lug been nobler fir'd,
+    And ev'n his matchless hand with finer touch inspir'd!
+    No guess could tell what instrument appear'd,
+    But all the soul of Music's self was heard,
+    Harmonious concert rung in every part,
+    While simple melody pour'd moving on the heart.
+
+      The Genius of the stream in front appears,
+    A venerable Chief advanc'd in years;
+    His hoary head with water-lilies crown'd,
+    His manly leg with garter tangle bound.
+    Next came the loveliest pair in all the ring,
+    Sweet Female Beauty hand in hand with Spring;
+    Then, crown'd with flow'ry hay, came Rural Joy,
+    And Summer, with his fervid-beaming eye:
+    All-cheering Plenty, with her flowing horn,
+    Led yellow Autumn, wreath'd with nodding corn;
+    Then Winter's time-bleach'd looks did hoary show,
+    By Hospitality with cloudless brow.
+    Next follow'd Courage, with his martial stride,
+    From where the Feal wild woody coverts hide;
+    Benevolence, with mild, benignant air,
+    A female form, came from the tow'rs of Stair:
+    Learning and Worth in equal measures trode
+    From simple Catrine, their long-lov'd abode:
+    Last, white-rob'd Peace, crown'd with a hazel wreath,
+    To rustic Agriculture did bequeath
+    The broken iron instruments of death;
+    At sight of whom our Sprites forgat their kindling wrath.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 60: A noted tavern at the auld Brig end.]
+
+[Footnote 61: The two steeples.]
+
+[Footnote 62: The gos-hawk or falcon.]
+
+[Footnote 63: A noted ford, just above the Auld Brig.]
+
+[Footnote 64: The banks of Garpal Water is one of the few places in the
+West of Scotland, where those fancy-scaring beings, known by the name
+of Ghaists, still continue pertinaciously to inhabit.]
+
+[Footnote 65: The source of the river Ayr.]
+
+[Footnote 66: A small landing-place above the large key.]
+
+[Footnote 67: A well known performer of Scottish music on the violin.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXII.
+
+ON
+
+THE DEATH OF ROBERT DUNDAS, ESQ.,
+
+OF ARNISTON,
+
+LATE LORD PRESIDENT OF THE COURT OF SESSION.
+
+[At the request of Advocate Hay, Burns composed this Poem, in the hope
+that it might interest the powerful family of Dundas in his fortunes.
+I found it inserted in the handwriting of the poet, in an interleaved
+copy of his Poems, which he presented to Dr. Geddes, accompanied by
+the following surly note:--"The foregoing Poem has some tolerable
+lines in it, but the incurable wound of my pride will not suffer me to
+correct, or even peruse it. I sent a copy of it with my best prose
+letter to the son of the great man, the theme of the piece, by the
+hands of one of the noblest men in God's world, Alexander Wood,
+surgeon: when, behold! his solicitorship took no more notice of my
+Poem, or of me, than I had been a strolling fiddler who had made free
+with his lady's name, for a silly new reel. Did the fellow imagine
+that I looked for any dirty gratuity?" This Robert Dundas was the
+elder brother of that Lord Melville to whose hands, soon after these
+lines were written, all the government patronage in Scotland was
+confided, and who, when the name of Burns was mentioned, pushed the
+wine to Pitt, and said nothing. The poem was first printed by me, in
+1834.]
+
+
+    Lone on the bleaky hills the straying flocks
+    Shun the fierce storms among the sheltering rocks;
+    Down from the rivulets, red with dashing rains,
+    The gathering floods burst o'er the distant plains;
+    Beneath the blasts the leafless forests groan;
+    The hollow caves return a sullen moan.
+
+    Ye hills, ye plains, ye forests and ye caves,
+    Ye howling winds, and wintry swelling waves!
+    Unheard, unseen, by human ear or eye,
+    Sad to your sympathetic scenes I fly;
+    Where to the whistling blast and waters' roar
+    Pale Scotia's recent wound I may deplore.
+
+    O heavy loss, thy country ill could bear!
+    A loss these evil days can ne'er repair!
+    Justice, the high vicegerent of her God,
+    Her doubtful balance ey'd, and sway'd her rod;
+    Hearing the tidings of the fatal blow
+    She sunk, abandon'd to the wildest woe.
+
+    Wrongs, injuries, from many a darksome den,
+    Now gay in hope explore the paths of men:
+    See from this cavern grim Oppression rise,
+    And throw on poverty his cruel eyes;
+    Keen on the helpless victim see him fly,
+    And stifle, dark, the feebly-bursting cry:
+
+    Mark ruffian Violence, distain'd with crimes,
+    Rousing elate in these degenerate times;
+    View unsuspecting Innocence a prey,
+    As guileful Fraud points out the erring way:
+    While subtile Litigation's pliant tongue
+    The life-blood equal sucks of Right and Wrong:
+    Hark, injur'd Want recounts th' unlisten'd tale,
+    And much-wrong'd Mis'ry pours th' unpitied wail!
+
+    Ye dark waste hills, and brown unsightly plains,
+    To you I sing my grief-inspired strains:
+    Ye tempests, rage! ye turbid torrents, roll!
+    Ye suit the joyless tenor of my soul.
+    Life's social haunts and pleasures I resign,
+    Be nameless wilds and lonely wanderings mine,
+    To mourn the woes my country must endure,
+    That wound degenerate ages cannot cure.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXIII.
+
+ON READING IN A NEWSPAPER
+
+THE DEATH OF JOHN M'LEOD, ESQ.
+
+BROTHER TO A YOUNG LADY, A PARTICULAR FRIEND
+
+OF THE AUTHOR'S.
+
+[John M'Leod was of the ancient family of Raza, and brother to that
+Isabella M'Leod, for whom Burns, in his correspondence, expressed
+great regard. The little Poem, when first printed, consisted of six
+verses: I found a seventh in M'Murdo Manuscripts, the fifth in this
+edition, along with an intimation in prose, that the M'Leod family had
+endured many unmerited misfortunes. I observe that Sir Harris Nicolas
+has rejected this new verse, because, he says, it repeats the same
+sentiment as the one which precedes it. I think differently, and have
+retained it.]
+
+
+    Sad thy tale, thou idle page,
+      And rueful thy alarms:
+    Death tears the brother of her love
+      From Isabella's arms.
+
+    Sweetly deck'd with pearly dew
+      The morning rose may blow;
+    But cold successive noontide blasts
+      May lay its beauties low.
+
+    Fair on Isabella's morn
+      The sun propitious smil'd;
+    But, long ere noon, succeeding clouds
+      Succeeding hopes beguil'd.
+
+    Fate oft tears the bosom chords
+      That nature finest strung:
+    So Isabella's heart was form'd,
+      And so that heart was wrung.
+
+    Were it in the poet's power,
+      Strong as he shares the grief
+    That pierces Isabella's heart,
+      To give that heart relief!
+
+    Dread Omnipotence, alone,
+      Can heal the wound He gave;
+    Can point the brimful grief-worn eyes
+      To scenes beyond the grave.
+
+    Virtue's blossoms there shall blow,
+      And fear no withering blast;
+    There Isabella's spotless worth
+      Shall happy be at last.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXIV.
+
+TO MISS LOGAN,
+
+WITH BEATTIE'S POEMS FOR A NEW YEAR'S GIFT.
+
+JAN. 1, 1787.
+
+[Burns was fond of writing compliments in books, and giving them in
+presents among his fair friends. Miss Logan, of Park house, was sister
+to Major Logan, of Camlarg, and the "sentimental sister Susie," of the
+Epistle to her brother. Both these names were early dropped out of the
+poet's correspondence.]
+
+
+    Again the silent wheels of time
+      Their annual round have driv'n,
+    And you, tho' scarce in maiden prime,
+      Are so much nearer Heav'n.
+
+    No gifts have I from Indian coasts
+      The infant year to hail:
+    I send you more than India boasts
+      In Edwin's simple tale.
+
+    Our sex with guile and faithless love
+      Is charg'd, perhaps, too true;
+    But may, dear maid, each lover prove
+      An Edwin still to you!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXV.
+
+THE AMERICAN WAR.
+
+A FRAGMENT.
+
+[Dr. Blair said that the politics of Burns smelt of the smithy, which,
+interpreted, means, that they were unstatesman-like, and worthy of a
+country ale-house, and an audience of peasants. The Poem gives us a
+striking picture of the humorous and familiar way in which the hinds
+and husbandmen of Scotland handle national topics: the smithy is a
+favourite resort, during the winter evenings, of rustic politicians;
+and national affairs and parish scandal are alike discussed. Burns was
+in those days, and some time after, a vehement Tory: his admiration of
+"Chatham's Boy," called down on him the dusty indignation of the
+republican Ritson.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    When Guildford good our pilot stood,
+      And did our hellim thraw, man,
+    Ae night, at tea, began a plea,
+      Within America, man:
+    Then up they gat the maskin-pat,
+      And in the sea did jaw, man;
+    An' did nae less in full Congress,
+      Than quite refuse our law, man.
+
+II.
+
+    Then thro' the lakes Montgomery takes,
+      I wat he was na slaw, man;
+    Down Lowrie's burn he took a turn,
+      And Carleton did ca', man;
+    But yet, what-reck, he, at Quebec,
+      Montgomery-like did fa', man,
+    Wi' sword in hand, before his band,
+      Amang his en'mies a', man.
+
+III.
+
+    Poor Tammy Gage, within a cage,
+      Was kept at Boston ha', man;
+    Till Willie Howe took o'er the knowe
+      For Philadelphia, man;
+    Wi' sword an' gun he thought a sin
+      Guid Christian blood to draw, man:
+    But at New York, wi' knife an' fork,
+      Sir-loin he hacked sma', man.
+
+IV.
+
+    Burgoyne gaed up, like spur an' whip,
+      Till Fraser brave did fa', man,
+    Then lost his way, ae misty day,
+      In Saratoga shaw, man.
+    Cornwallis fought as lang's he dought,
+      An' did the buckskins claw, man;
+    But Clinton's glaive frae rust to save,
+    He hung it to the wa', man.
+
+V.
+
+    Then Montague, an' Guilford, too,
+      Began to fear a fa', man;
+    And Sackville dour, wha stood the stoure,
+      The German Chief to thraw, man;
+    For Paddy Burke, like ony Turk,
+      Nae mercy had at a', man;
+    An' Charlie Fox threw by the box,
+      An' lows'd his tinkler jaw, man.
+
+VI.
+
+    Then Rockingham took up the game,
+      Till death did on him ca', man;
+    When Shelburne meek held up his cheek,
+      Conform to gospel law, man;
+    Saint Stephen's boys, wi' jarring noise,
+      They did his measures thraw, man,
+    For North an' Fox united stocks,
+      An' bore him to the wa', man.
+
+VII.
+
+    Then clubs an' hearts were Charlie's cartes,
+      He swept the stakes awa', man,
+    Till the diamond's ace, of Indian race,
+      Led him a sair _faux pas_, man;
+    The Saxon lads, wi' loud placads,
+      On Chatham's boy did ca', man;
+    An' Scotland drew her pipe, an' blew,
+      "Up, Willie, waur them a', man!"
+
+VIII.
+
+    Behind the throne then Grenville's gone,
+      A secret word or twa, man;
+    While slee Dundas arous'd the class,
+      Be-north the Roman wa', man:
+    An' Chatham's wraith, in heavenly graith,
+      (Inspired Bardies saw, man)
+    Wi' kindling eyes cry'd "Willie, rise!
+      Would I hae fear'd them a', man?"
+
+IX.
+
+    But, word an' blow, North, Fox, and Co.,
+      Gowff'd Willie like a ba', man,
+    Till Suthron raise, and coost their claise
+      Behind him in a raw, man;
+    An' Caledon threw by the drone,
+      An' did her whittle draw, man;
+    An' swoor fu' rude, thro' dirt an' blood
+      To make it guid in law, man.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXVI.
+
+THE DEAN OF FACULTY.
+
+A NEW BALLAD.
+
+[The Hal and Bob of these satiric lines were Henry Erskine, and Robert
+Dundas: and their contention was, as the verses intimate, for the
+place of Dean of the Faculty of Advocates: Erskine was successful. It
+is supposed that in characterizing Dundas, the poet remembered "the
+incurable wound which his pride had got" in the affair of the elegiac
+verses on the death of the elder Dundas. The poem first appeared in
+the Reliques of Burns.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Dire was the hate at old Harlaw,
+      That Scot to Scot did carry;
+    And dire the discord Langside saw,
+      For beauteous, hapless Mary:
+    But Scot with Scot ne'er met so hot,
+      Or were more in fury seen, Sir,
+    Than 'twixt Hal and Bob for the famous job--
+      Who should be Faculty's Dean, Sir.--
+
+II.
+
+    This Hal for genius, wit, and lore,
+      Among the first was number'd;
+    But pious Bob, 'mid learning's store,
+      Commandment tenth remember'd.--
+    Yet simple Bob the victory got,
+      And won his heart's desire;
+    Which shows that heaven can boil the pot,
+      Though the devil p--s in the fire.--
+
+III.
+
+    Squire Hal besides had in this case
+      Pretensions rather brassy,
+    For talents to deserve a place
+      Are qualifications saucy;
+    So, their worships of the Faculty,
+      Quite sick of merit's rudeness,
+    Chose one who should owe it all, d'ye see,
+      To their gratis grace and goodness.--
+
+IV.
+
+    As once on Pisgah purg'd was the sight
+      Of a son of Circumcision,
+    So may be, on this Pisgah height,
+      Bob's purblind, mental vision:
+    Nay, Bobby's mouth may be open'd yet
+      Till for eloquence you hail him,
+    And swear he has the angel met
+      That met the Ass of Balaam.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXVII.
+
+TO A LADY,
+
+WITH A PRESENT OF A PAIR OF DRINKING-GLASSES.
+
+[To Mrs. M'Lehose, of Edinburgh, the poet presented the
+drinking-glasses alluded to in the verses: they are, it seems, still
+preserved, and the lady on occasions of high festival, indulges, it is
+said, favourite visiters with a draught from them of "The blood of
+Shiraz' scorched vine."]
+
+
+    Fair Empress of the Poet's soul,
+      And Queen of Poetesses;
+    Clarinda, take this little boon,
+      This humble pair of glasses.
+
+    And fill them high with generous juice,
+      As generous as your mind;
+    And pledge me in the generous toast--
+      "The whole of human kind!"
+
+    "To those who love us!"--second fill;
+      But not to those whom we love;
+    Lest we love those who love not us!--
+      A third--"to thee and me, love!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXVIII.
+
+TO CLARINDA.
+
+[This is the lady of the drinking-glasses; the Mrs. Mac of many a
+toast among the poet's acquaintances. She was, in those days, young
+and beautiful, and we fear a little giddy, since she indulged in that
+sentimental and platonic flirtation with the poet, contained in the
+well-known letters to Clarinda. The letters, after the poet's death,
+appeared in print without her permission: she obtained an injunction
+against the publication, which still remains in force, but her anger
+seems to have been less a matter of taste than of whim, for the
+injunction has been allowed to slumber in the case of some editors,
+though it has been enforced against others.]
+
+
+    Clarinda, mistress of my soul,
+      The measur'd time is run!
+    The wretch beneath the dreary pole
+      So marks his latest sun.
+
+    To what dark cave of frozen night
+      Shall poor Sylvander hie;
+    Depriv'd of thee, his life and light,
+      The sun of all his joy.
+
+    We part--but, by these precious drops
+      That fill thy lovely eyes!
+    No other light shall guide my steps
+      Till thy bright beams arise.
+
+    She, the fair sun of all her sex,
+      Has blest my glorious day;
+    And shall a glimmering planet fix
+      My worship to its ray?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXIX.
+
+VERSES
+
+WRITTEN UNDER THE PORTRAIT OF FERGUSSON, THE POET, IN A COPY OF THAT
+AUTHOR'S WORKS PRESENTED TO A YOUNG LADY.
+
+[Who the young lady was to whom the poet presented the portrait and
+Poems of the ill-fated Fergusson, we have not been told. The verses
+are dated Edinburgh, March 19th, 1787.]
+
+
+    Curse on ungrateful man, that can be pleas'd,
+    And yet can starve the author of the pleasure!
+    O thou my elder brother in misfortune,
+    By far my elder brother in the muses,
+    With tears I pity thy unhappy fate!
+    Why is the bard unpitied by the world,
+    Yet has so keen a relish of its pleasures?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXX.
+
+PROLOGUE
+
+SPOKEN BY MR. WOODS ON HIS BENEFIT NIGHT,
+
+MONDAY, 16 April, 1787.
+
+[The Woods for whom this Prologue was written, was in those days a
+popular actor in Edinburgh. He had other claims on Burns: he had been
+the friend as well as comrade of poor Fergusson, and possessed some
+poetical talent. He died in Edinburgh, December 14th, 1802.]
+
+
+    When by a generous Public's kind acclaim,
+    That dearest meed is granted--honest fame;
+    When _here_ your favour is the actor's lot,
+    Nor even the _man_ in _private life_ forgot;
+    What breast so dead to heavenly virtue's glow,
+    But heaves impassion'd with the grateful throe?
+
+    Poor is the task to please a barbarous throng,
+    It needs no Siddons' powers in Southerne's song;
+    But here an ancient nation fam'd afar,
+    For genius, learning high, as great in war--
+    Hail, CALEDONIA, name for ever dear!
+    Before whose sons I'm honoured to appear!
+    Where every science--every nobler art--
+    That can inform the mind, or mend the heart,
+    Is known; as grateful nations oft have found
+    Far as the rude barbarian marks the bound.
+    Philosophy, no idle pedant dream,
+    Here holds her search by heaven-taught Reason's beam;
+    Here History paints, with elegance and force,
+    The tide of Empires' fluctuating course;
+    Here Douglas forms wild Shakspeare into plan,
+    And Harley[68] rouses all the god in man.
+    When well-form'd taste and sparkling wit unite,
+    With manly lore, or female beauty bright,
+    (Beauty, where faultless symmetry and grace,
+    Can only charm as in the second place,)
+    Witness my heart, how oft with panting fear,
+    As on this night, I've met these judges here!
+    But still the hope Experience taught to live,
+    Equal to judge--you're candid to forgive.
+    Nor hundred-headed Riot here we meet,
+    With decency and law beneath his feet:
+    Nor Insolence assumes fair Freedom's name;
+    Like CALEDONIANS, you applaud or blame.
+
+    O Thou dread Power! whose Empire-giving hand
+    Has oft been stretch'd to shield the honour'd land!
+    Strong may she glow with all her ancient fire:
+    May every son be worthy of his sire;
+    Firm may she rise with generous disdain
+    At Tyranny's, or direr Pleasure's chain;
+    Still self-dependent in her native shore,
+    Bold may she brave grim Danger's loudest roar,
+    Till Fate the curtain drop on worlds to be no more.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 68: The Man of Feeling, by Mackenzie.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXXI.
+
+SKETCH.
+
+[This Sketch is a portion of a long Poem which Burns proposed to call
+"The Poet's Progress." He communicated the little he had done, for he
+was a courter of opinions, to Dugald Stewart. "The Fragment forms,"
+said he, "the postulata, the axioms, the definition of a character,
+which, if it appear at all, shall be placed in a variety of lights.
+This particular part I send you, merely as a sample of my hand at
+portrait-sketching." It is probable that the professor's response was
+not favourable for we hear no more of the Poem.]
+
+
+    A little, upright, pert, tart, tripping wight,
+    And still his precious self his dear delight;
+    Who loves his own smart shadow in the streets
+    Better than e'er the fairest she he meets:
+    A man of fashion, too, he made his tour,
+    Learn'd vive la bagatelle, et vive l'amour:
+    So travell'd monkeys their grimace improve,
+    Polish their grin, nay, sigh for ladies' love.
+    Much specious lore, but little understood;
+    Veneering oft outshines the solid wood:
+    His solid sense--by inches you must tell.
+    But mete his cunning by the old Scots ell;
+    His meddling vanity, a busy fiend,
+    Still making work his selfish craft must mend.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXXII.
+
+TO MRS. SCOTT,
+
+OF WAUCHOPE.
+
+[The lady to whom this epistle is addressed was a painter and a
+poetess: her pencil sketches are said to have been beautiful; and she
+had a ready skill in rhyme, as the verses addressed to Burns fully
+testify. Taste and poetry belonged to her family; she was the niece of
+Mrs. Cockburn, authoress of a beautiful variation of The Flowers of
+the Forest.]
+
+
+    I mind it weel in early date,
+    When I was beardless, young and blate,
+      An' first could thresh the barn;
+    Or hand a yokin at the pleugh;
+    An' tho' forfoughten sair enough,
+      Yet unco proud to learn:
+    When first amang the yellow corn
+      A man I reckon'd was,
+    An' wi' the lave ilk merry morn
+      Could rank my rig and lass,
+        Still shearing, and clearing,
+          The tither stooked raw,
+        Wi' claivers, an' haivers,
+          Wearing the day awa.
+
+    E'en then, a wish, I mind its pow'r,
+    A wish that to my latest hour
+      Shall strongly heave my breast,
+    That I for poor auld Scotland's sake
+    Some usefu' plan or beuk could make,
+      Or sing a sang at least.
+    The rough burr-thistle, spreading wide
+      Amang the bearded bear,
+    I turn'd the weeder-clips aside,
+      An' spar'd the symbol dear:
+        No nation, no station,
+          My envy e'er could raise,
+        A Scot still, but blot still,
+          I knew nae higher praise.
+
+    But still the elements o' sang
+    In formless jumble, right an' wrang,
+      Wild floated in my brain;
+    'Till on that har'st I said before,
+    My partner in the merry core,
+      She rous'd the forming strain:
+    I see her yet, the sonsie quean,
+      That lighted up her jingle,
+    Her witching smile, her pauky een
+      That gart my heart-strings tingle:
+        I fired, inspired,
+          At every kindling keek,
+        But bashing and dashing
+          I feared aye to speak.
+
+    Health to the sex, ilk guid chiel says,
+    Wi' merry dance in winter days,
+      An' we to share in common:
+    The gust o' joy, the balm of woe,
+    The saul o' life, the heaven below,
+      Is rapture-giving woman.
+    Ye surly sumphs, who hate the name,
+      Be mindfu' o' your mither:
+    She, honest woman, may think shame
+      That ye're connected with her.
+        Ye're wae men, ye're nae men
+          That slight the lovely dears;
+        To shame ye, disclaim ye,
+          Ilk honest birkie swears.
+
+    For you, no bred to barn and byre,
+    Wha sweetly tune the Scottish lyre,
+      Thanks to you for your line:
+    The marled plaid ye kindly spare,
+    By me should gratefully be ware;
+      'Twad please me to the nine.
+    I'd be mair vauntie o' my hap,
+      Douce hingin' owre my curple
+    Than ony ermine ever lap,
+      Or proud imperial purple.
+        Fareweel then, lang heel then,
+          An' plenty be your fa';
+        May losses and crosses
+          Ne'er at your hallan ca'.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXXIII.
+
+EPISTLE TO WILLIAM CREECH.
+
+[A storm of rain detained Burns one day, during his border tour, at
+Selkirk, and he employed his time in writing this characteristic
+epistle to Creech, his bookseller. Creech was a person of education
+and taste; he was not only the most popular publisher in the north,
+but he was intimate with almost all the distinguished men who, in
+those days, adorned Scottish literature. But though a joyous man, a
+lover of sociality, and the keeper of a good table, he was close and
+parsimonious, and loved to hold money to the last moment that the law
+allowed.]
+
+
+_Selkirk_, 13 _May_, 1787.
+
+    Auld chukie Reekie's[69] sair distrest,
+    Down droops her ance weel-burnisht crest,
+    Nae joy her bonnie buskit nest
+                      Can yield ava,
+    Her darling bird that she lo'es best,
+                      Willie's awa!
+
+    O Willie was a witty wight,
+    And had o' things an unco slight;
+    Auld Reekie ay he keepit tight,
+                      An' trig an' braw:
+    But now they'll busk her like a fright,
+                      Willie's awa!
+
+    The stiffest o' them a' he bow'd;
+    The bauldest o' them a' he cow'd;
+    They durst nae mair than he allow'd,
+                      That was a law;
+    We've lost a birkie weel worth gowd,
+                      Willie's awa!
+
+    Now gawkies, tawpies, gowks, and fools,
+    Frae colleges and boarding-schools,
+    May sprout like simmer puddock stools
+                      In glen or shaw;
+    He wha could brush them down to mools,
+                      Willie's awa!
+
+    The brethren o' the Commerce-Chaumer[70]
+    May mourn their loss wi' doofu' clamour;
+    He was a dictionar and grammar
+                      Amang them a';
+    I fear they'll now mak mony a stammer,
+                      Willie's awa!
+
+    Nae mair we see his levee door
+    Philosophers and poets pour,[71]
+    And toothy critics by the score
+                      In bloody raw!
+    The adjutant o' a' the core,
+                      Willie's awa!
+
+    Now worthy Gregory's Latin face,
+    Tytler's and Greenfield's modest grace;
+    Mackenzie, Stewart, sic a brace
+                      As Rome n'er saw;
+    They a' maun meet some ither place,
+                      Willie's awa!
+
+    Poor Burns--e'en Scotch drink canna quicken,
+    He cheeps like some bewilder'd chicken,
+    Scar'd frae its minnie and the cleckin
+                      By hoodie-craw;
+    Grief's gien his heart an unco kickin',
+                      Willie's awa!
+
+    Now ev'ry sour-mou'd girnin' blellum,
+    And Calvin's fock are fit to fell him;
+    And self-conceited critic skellum
+                      His quill may draw;
+    He wha could brawlie ward their bellum,
+                      Willie's awa!
+
+    Up wimpling stately Tweed I've sped,
+    And Eden scenes on crystal Jed,
+    And Ettrick banks now roaring red,
+                      While tempests blaw;
+    But every joy and pleasure's fled,
+                      Willie's awa!
+
+    May I be slander's common speech;
+    A text for infamy to preach;
+    And lastly, streekit out to bleach
+                      In winter snaw;
+    When I forget thee! Willie Creech,
+                      Tho' far awa!
+
+    May never wicked fortune touzle him!
+    May never wicked man bamboozle him!
+    Until a pow as auld's Methusalem
+                      He canty claw!
+    Then to the blessed New Jerusalem,
+                      Fleet wing awa!
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 69: Edinburgh.]
+
+[Footnote 70: The Chamber of Commerce in Edinburgh, of which Creech was
+Secretary.]
+
+[Footnote 71: Many literary gentlemen were accustomed to meet at Mr.
+Creech's house at breakfast.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXXIV.
+
+THE
+
+HUMBLE PETITION OF BRUAR WATER
+
+TO THE
+
+NOBLE DUKE OF ATHOLE.
+
+[The Falls of Bruar in Athole are exceedingly beautiful and
+picturesque; and their effect, when Burns visited them, was much
+impaired by want of shrubs and trees. This was in 1787: the poet,
+accompanied by his future biographer, Professor Walker, went, when
+close on twilight, to this romantic scene: "he threw himself," said
+the Professor, "on a heathy seat, and gave himself up to a tender,
+abstracted, and voluptuous enthusiasm of imagination. In a few days I
+received a letter from Inverness, for the poet had gone on his way,
+with the Petition enclosed." His Grace of Athole obeyed the
+injunction: the picturesque points are now crowned with thriving
+woods, and the beauty of the Falls is much increased.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    My Lord, I know your noble ear
+      Woe ne'er assails in vain;
+    Embolden'd thus, I beg you'll hear
+      Your humble slave complain,
+    How saucy Phoebus' scorching beams
+      In flaming summer-pride,
+    Dry-withering, waste my foamy streams,
+      And drink my crystal tide.
+
+II.
+
+    The lightly-jumpin' glowrin' trouts,
+      That thro' my waters play,
+    If, in their random, wanton spouts,
+      They near the margin stray;
+    If, hapless chance! they linger lang,
+      I'm scorching up so shallow,
+    They're left the whitening stanes amang,
+      In gasping death to wallow.
+
+III.
+
+    Last day I grat wi' spite and teen,
+      As Poet Burns came by,
+    That to a bard I should be seen
+      Wi' half my channel dry:
+    A panegyric rhyme, I ween,
+      Even as I was he shor'd me;
+    But had I in my glory been,
+      He, kneeling, wad ador'd me.
+
+IV.
+
+    Here, foaming down the shelvy rocks,
+      In twisting strength I rin;
+    There, high my boiling torrent smokes,
+      Wild-roaring o'er a linn:
+    Enjoying large each spring and well,
+      As Nature gave them me,
+    I am, altho' I say't mysel',
+      Worth gaun a mile to see.
+
+V.
+
+    Would then my noble master please
+      To grant my highest wishes,
+    He'll shade my banks wi' tow'ring trees,
+      And bonnie spreading bushes.
+    Delighted doubly then, my Lord,
+      You'll wander on my banks,
+    And listen mony a grateful bird
+      Return you tuneful thanks.
+
+VI.
+
+    The sober laverock, warbling wild,
+      Shall to the skies aspire;
+    The gowdspink, music's gayest child,
+      Shall sweetly join the choir:
+    The blackbird strong, the lintwhite clear,
+      The mavis mild and mellow;
+    The robin pensive autumn cheer,
+      In all her locks of yellow.
+
+VII.
+
+    This, too, a covert shall insure
+      To shield them from the storm;
+    And coward maukin sleep secure,
+      Low in her grassy form:
+    Here shall the shepherd make his seat,
+      To weave his crown of flow'rs;
+    Or find a shelt'ring safe retreat
+      From prone-descending show'rs.
+
+VIII.
+
+    And here, by sweet, endearing stealth,
+      Shall meet the loving pair,
+    Despising worlds with all their wealth
+      As empty idle care.
+    The flow'rs shall vie in all their charms
+      The hour of heav'n to grace,
+    And birks extend their fragrant arms
+      To screen the dear embrace.
+
+IX.
+
+    Here haply too, at vernal dawn,
+      Some musing bard may stray,
+    And eye the smoking, dewy lawn,
+      And misty mountain gray;
+    Or, by the reaper's nightly beam,
+      Mild-chequering thro' the trees,
+    Rave to my darkly-dashing stream,
+      Hoarse-swelling on the breeze.
+
+X.
+
+    Let lofty firs, and ashes cool,
+      My lowly banks o'erspread,
+    And view, deep-bending in the pool,
+      Their shadows' wat'ry bed!
+    Let fragrant birks in woodbines drest
+      My craggy cliffs adorn;
+    And, for the little songster's nest,
+      The close embow'ring thorn.
+
+XI.
+
+    So may old Scotia's darling hope,
+      Your little angel band,
+    Spring, like their fathers, up to prop
+      Their honour'd native land!
+    So may thro' Albion's farthest ken,
+      To social-flowing glasses,
+    The grace be--"Athole's honest men,
+      And Athole's bonnie lasses?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXXV.
+
+ON SCARING SOME WATER-FOWL
+
+IN LOCH-TURIT.
+
+[When Burns wrote these touching lines, he was staying with Sir
+William Murray, of Ochtertyre, during one of his Highland tours.
+Loch-Turit is a wild lake among the recesses of the hills, and was
+welcome from its loneliness to the heart of the poet.]
+
+
+    Why, ye tenants of the lake,
+    For me your wat'ry haunt forsake?
+    Tell me, fellow-creatures, why
+    At my presence thus you fly?
+
+    Why disturb your social joys,
+    Parent, filial, kindred ties?--
+    Common friend to you and me,
+    Nature's gifts to all are free:
+    Peaceful keep your dimpling wave,
+    Busy feed, or wanton lave:
+    Or, beneath the sheltering rock,
+    Bide the surging billow's shock.
+
+    Conscious, blushing for our race,
+    Soon, too soon, your fears I trace.
+    Man, your proud usurping foe,
+    Would be lord of all below:
+    Plumes himself in Freedom's pride,
+    Tyrant stern to all beside.
+
+    The eagle, from the cliffy brow,
+    Marking you his prey below,
+    In his breast no pity dwells,
+    Strong necessity compels:
+    But man, to whom alone is giv'n
+    A ray direct from pitying heav'n,
+    Glories in his heart humane--
+    And creatures for his pleasure slain.
+
+    In these savage, liquid plains,
+    Only known to wand'ring swains,
+    Where the mossy riv'let strays,
+    Far from human haunts and ways;
+    All on Nature you depend,
+    And life's poor season peaceful spend.
+
+    Or, if man's superior might
+    Dare invade your native right,
+    On the lofty ether borne,
+    Man with all his pow'rs you scorn;
+    Swiftly seek, on clanging wings,
+    Other lakes and other springs;
+    And the foe you cannot brave,
+    Scorn at least to be his slave.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXXVI.
+
+WRITTEN WITH A PENCIL,
+
+OVER THE CHIMNEY-PIECE, IN THE PARLOUR OF THE
+
+INN AT KENMORE, TAYMOUTH.
+
+[The castle of Taymouth is the residence of the Earl of Breadalbane:
+it is a magnificent structure, contains many fine paintings: has some
+splendid old trees and romantic scenery.]
+
+
+    Admiring Nature in her wildest grace,
+    These northern scenes with weary feet I trace;
+    O'er many a winding dale and painful steep,
+    Th' abodes of covey'd grouse and timid sheep,
+    My savage journey, curious I pursue,
+    'Till fam'd Breadalbane opens to my view.--
+    The meeting cliffs each deep-sunk glen divides,
+    The woods, wild scatter'd, clothe their ample sides;
+    Th' outstretching lake, embosom'd 'mong the hills,
+    The eye with wonder and amazement fills;
+    The Tay, meand'ring sweet in infant pride,
+    The palace, rising on its verdant side;
+    The lawns, wood-fring'd in Nature's native taste;
+    The hillocks, dropt in Nature's careless haste;
+    The arches, striding o'er the new-born stream;
+    The village, glittering in the noontide beam--
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    Poetic ardours in my bosom swell,
+    Lone wand'ring by the hermit's mossy cell:
+    The sweeping theatre of hanging woods;
+    Th' incessant roar of headlong tumbling floods--
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    Here Poesy might wake her heav'n-taught lyre,
+    And look through Nature with creative fire;
+    Here, to the wrongs of fate half reconcil'd,
+    Misfortune's lighten'd steps might wander wild;
+    And Disappointment, in these lonely bounds,
+    Find balm to soothe her bitter--rankling wounds:
+    Here heart-struck Grief might heav'nward stretch her scan,
+    And injur'd Worth forget and pardon man.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXXVII.
+
+WRITTEN WITH A PENCIL,
+
+STANDING BY THE FALL OF FYERS,
+
+NEAR LOCH-NESS
+
+[This is one of the many fine scenes, in the Celtic Parnassus of
+Ossian: but when Burns saw it, the Highland passion of the stream was
+abated, for there had been no rain for some time to swell and send it
+pouring down its precipices in a way worthy of the scene. The descent
+of the water is about two hundred feet. There is another fall further
+up the stream, very wild and savage, on which the Fyers makes three
+prodigious leaps into a deep gulf where nothing can be seen for the
+whirling foam and agitated mist.]
+
+
+    Among the heathy hills and ragged woods
+    The roaring Fyers pours his mossy floods;
+    Till full he dashes on the rocky mounds,
+    Where, thro' a shapeless breach, his stream resounds,
+    As high in air the bursting torrents flow,
+    As deep-recoiling surges foam below,
+    Prone down the rock the whitening sheet descends,
+    And viewless Echo's ear, astonish'd, rends.
+    Dim seen, through rising mists and ceaseless show'rs,
+    The hoary cavern, wide surrounding, low'rs.
+    Still thro' the gap the struggling river toils,
+    And still below, the horrid cauldron boils--
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXXVIII.
+
+POETICAL ADDRESS
+
+TO MR. W. TYTLER,
+
+WITH THE PRESENT OF THE BARD'S PICTURE.
+
+[When these verses were written there was much stately Jacobitism
+about Edinburgh, and it is likely that Tytler, who laboured to dispel
+the cloud of calumny which hung over the memory of Queen Mary, had a
+bearing that way. Taste and talent have now descended in the Tytlers
+through three generations: an uncommon event in families. The present
+edition of the Poem has been completed from the original in the poet's
+handwriting.]
+
+
+    Revered defender of beauteous Stuart,
+      Of Stuart, a name once respected,
+    A name, which to love, was once mark of a true heart,
+      But now 'tis despis'd and neglected.
+
+    Tho' something like moisture conglobes in my eye,
+      Let no one misdeem me disloyal;
+    A poor friendless wand'rer may well claim a sigh,
+      Still more, if that wand'rer were royal.
+
+    My fathers that name have rever'd on a throne,
+      My fathers have fallen to right it;
+    Those fathers would spurn their degenerate son,
+      That name should he scoffingly slight it.
+
+    Still in prayers for King George I most heartily join,
+      The Queen and the rest of the gentry,
+    Be they wise, be they foolish, is nothing of mine;
+      Their title's avow'd by my country.
+
+    But why of that epocha make such a fuss,
+      That gave us th' Electoral stem?
+    If bringing them over was lucky for us,
+      I'm sure 'twas as lucky for them.
+
+    But loyalty truce! we're on dangerous ground,
+      Who knows how the fashions may alter?
+    The doctrine, to-day, that is loyalty sound,
+      To-morrow may bring us a halter.
+
+    I send you a trifle, the head of a bard,
+      A trifle scarce worthy your care;
+    But accept it, good Sir, as a mark of regard,
+      Sincere as a saint's dying prayer.
+
+    Now life's chilly evening dim shades on your eye,
+      And ushers the long dreary night;
+    But you, like the star that athwart gilds the sky,
+      Your course to the latest is bright.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXXIX.
+
+WRITTEN IN
+
+FRIARS-CARSE HERMITAGE,
+
+ON THE BANKS OF NITH.
+
+JUNE. 1788.
+
+[FIRST COPY.]
+
+[The interleaved volume presented by Burns to Dr. Geddes, has enabled
+me to present the reader with the rough draught of this truly
+beautiful Poem, the first-fruits perhaps of his intercourse with the
+muses of Nithside.]
+
+
+    Thou whom chance may hither lead,
+    Be thou clad in russet weed,
+    Be thou deck'd in silken stole,
+    Grave these maxims on thy soul.
+    Life is but a day at most,
+    Sprung from night, in darkness lost;
+    Day, how rapid in its flight--
+    Day, how few must see the night;
+    Hope not sunshine every hour,
+    Fear not clouds will always lower.
+    Happiness is but a name,
+    Make content and ease thy aim.
+
+    Ambition is a meteor gleam;
+    Fame, a restless idle dream:
+    Pleasures, insects on the wing
+    Round Peace, the tenderest flower of Spring;
+    Those that sip the dew alone,
+    Make the butterflies thy own;
+    Those that would the bloom devour,
+    Crush the locusts--save the flower.
+    For the future be prepar'd,
+    Guard wherever thou canst guard;
+    But, thy utmost duly done,
+    Welcome what thou canst not shun.
+    Follies past, give thou to air,
+    Make their consequence thy care:
+    Keep the name of man in mind,
+    And dishonour not thy kind.
+    Reverence with lowly heart
+    Him whose wondrous work thou art;
+    Keep His goodness still in view,
+    Thy trust--and thy example, too.
+
+    Stranger, go! Heaven be thy guide!
+    Quod the Beadsman on Nithside.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XC.
+
+WRITTEN IN
+
+FRIARS-CARSE HERMITAGE,
+
+ON NITHSIDE.
+
+DECEMBER, 1788.
+
+[Of this Poem Burns thought so well that he gave away many copies in
+his own handwriting: I have seen three. When corrected to his mind,
+and the manuscripts showed many changes and corrections, he published
+it in the new edition of his Poems as it stands in this second copy.
+The little Hermitage where these lines were written, stood in a lonely
+plantation belonging to the estate of Friars-Carse, and close to the
+march-dyke of Ellisland; a small door in the fence, of which the poet
+had the key, admitted him at pleasure, and there he found seclusion
+such as he liked, with flowers and shrubs all around him. The first
+twelve lines of the Poem were engraved neatly on one of the
+window-panes, by the diamond pencil of the Bard. On Riddel's death,
+the Hermitage was allowed to go quietly to decay: I remember in 1803
+turning two outlyer stots out of the interior.]
+
+
+    Thou whom chance may hither lead,
+    Be thou clad in russet weed,
+    Be thou deck'd in silken stole,
+    Grave these counsels on thy soul.
+
+    Life is but a day at most,
+    Sprung from night, in darkness lost;
+    Hope not sunshine ev'ry hour.
+    Fear not clouds will always lour.
+    As Youth and Love with sprightly dance
+    Beneath thy morning star advance,
+    Pleasure with her siren air
+    May delude the thoughtless pair:
+    Let Prudence bless enjoyment's cup,
+    Then raptur'd sip, and sip it up.
+
+    As thy day grows warm and high,
+    Life's meridian flaming nigh,
+    Dost thou spurn the humble vale?
+    Life's proud summits would'st thou scale?
+    Check thy climbing step, elate,
+    Evils lurk in felon wait:
+    Dangers, eagle-pinion'd, bold,
+    Soar around each cliffy hold,
+    While cheerful peace, with linnet song,
+    Chants the lowly dells among.
+
+    As the shades of ev'ning close,
+    Beck'ning thee to long repose;
+    As life itself becomes disease,
+    Seek the chimney-nook of ease.
+    There ruminate, with sober thought,
+    On all thou'st seen, and heard, and wrought;
+    And teach the sportive younkers round,
+    Saws of experience, sage and sound.
+    Say, man's true genuine estimate,
+    The grand criterion of his fate,
+    Is not--Art thou high or low?
+    Did thy fortune ebb or flow?
+    Wast thou cottager or king?
+    Peer or peasant?--no such thing!
+    Did many talents gild thy span?
+    Or frugal nature grudge thee one?
+    Tell them, and press it on their mind,
+    As thou thyself must shortly find,
+    The smile or frown of awful Heav'n,
+    To virtue or to vice is giv'n.
+    Say, to be just, and kind, and wise,
+    There solid self-enjoyment lies;
+    That foolish, selfish, faithless ways
+    Lead to the wretched, vile, and base.
+
+    Thus, resign'd and quiet, creep
+    To the bed of lasting sleep;
+    Sleep, whence thou shalt ne'er awake,
+    Night, where dawn shall never break,
+    Till future life, future no more,
+    To light and joy the good restore,
+    To light and joy unknown before.
+
+    Stranger, go! Hea'vn be thy guide!
+    Quod the beadsman of Nithside.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XCI.
+
+TO CAPTAIN RIDDEL,
+
+OF GLENRIDDEL.
+
+EXTEMPORE LINES ON RETURNING A NEWSPAPER.
+
+[Captain Riddel, the Laird of Friars-Carse, was Burns's neighbour, at
+Ellisland: he was a kind, hospitable man, and a good antiquary. The
+"News and Review" which he sent to the poet contained, I have heard,
+some sharp strictures on his works: Burns, with his usual strong
+sense, set the proper value upon all contemporary criticism; genius,
+he knew, had nothing to fear from the folly or the malice of all such
+nameless "chippers and hewers." He demanded trial by his peers, and
+where were such to be found?]
+
+
+_Ellisland, Monday Evening._
+
+    Your news and review, Sir, I've read through and through, Sir,
+      With little admiring or blaming;
+    The papers are barren of home-news or foreign,
+      No murders or rapes worth the naming.
+
+    Our friends, the reviewers, those chippers and hewers,
+      Are judges of mortar and stone, Sir,
+    But of _meet_ or _unmeet_ in a _fabric complete_,
+      I'll boldly pronounce they are none, Sir.
+
+    My goose-quill too rude is to tell all your goodness
+      Bestow'd on your servant, the Poet;
+    Would to God I had one like a beam of the sun,
+      And then all the world, Sir, should know it!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XCII.
+
+A MOTHER'S LAMENT
+
+FOR THE DEATH OF HER SON.
+
+["The Mother's Lament," says the poet, in a copy of the verses now
+before me, "was composed partly with a view to Mrs. Fergusson of
+Craigdarroch, and partly to the worthy patroness of my early unknown
+muse, Mrs. Stewart, of Afton."]
+
+
+    Fate gave the word, the arrow sped,
+      And pierc'd my darling's heart;
+    And with him all the joys are fled
+      Life can to me impart.
+    By cruel hands the sapling drops,
+      In dust dishonour'd laid:
+    So fell the pride of all my hopes,
+      My age's future shade.
+
+    The mother-linnet in the brake
+      Bewails her ravish'd young;
+    So I, for my lost darling's sake,
+      Lament the live day long.
+    Death, oft I've fear'd thy fatal blow,
+      Now, fond I bare my breast,
+    O, do thou kindly lay me low
+      With him I love, at rest!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XCIII.
+
+FIRST EPISTLE
+
+TO ROBERT GRAHAM, ESQ.
+
+OF FINTRAY.
+
+[In his manuscript copy of this Epistle the poet says "accompanying a
+request." What the request was the letter which enclosed it relates.
+Graham was one of the leading men of the Excise in Scotland, and had
+promised Burns a situation as exciseman: for this the poet had
+qualified himself; and as he began to dread that farming would be
+unprofitable, he wrote to remind his patron of his promise, and
+requested to be appointed to a division in his own neighbourhood. He
+was appointed in due time: his division was extensive, and included
+ten parishes.]
+
+
+    When Nature her great master-piece designed,
+    And fram'd her last, best work, the human mind,
+    Her eye intent on all the mazy plan,
+    She form'd of various parts the various man.
+
+    Then first she calls the useful many forth;
+    Plain plodding industry, and sober worth:
+    Thence peasants, farmers, native sons of earth,
+    And merchandise' whole genus take their birth:
+    Each prudent cit a warm existence finds,
+    And all mechanics' many-apron'd kinds.
+    Some other rarer sorts are wanted yet,
+    The lead and buoy are needful to the net;
+    The _caput mortuum_ of gross desires
+    Makes a material for mere knights and squires;
+    The martial phosphorus is taught to flow,
+    She kneads the lumpish philosophic dough,
+    Then marks th' unyielding mass with grave designs,
+    Law, physic, politics, and deep divines:
+    Last, she sublimes th' Aurora of the poles,
+    The flashing elements of female souls.
+
+    The order'd system fair before her stood,
+    Nature, well pleas'd, pronounc'd it very good;
+    But ere she gave creating labour o'er,
+    Half-jest, she tried one curious labour more.
+    Some spumy, fiery, _ignis fatuus_ matter,
+    Such as the slightest breath of air might scatter;
+    With arch alacrity and conscious glee
+    (Nature may have her whim as well as we,
+    Her Hogarth-art perhaps she meant to show it)
+    She forms the thing, and christens it--a Poet.
+    Creature, tho' oft the prey of care and sorrow,
+    When blest to-day, unmindful of to-morrow.
+    A being form'd t'amuse his graver friends,
+    Admir'd and prais'd--and there the homage ends:
+    A mortal quite unfit for fortune's strife,
+    Yet oft the sport of all the ills of life;
+    Prone to enjoy each pleasure riches give,
+    Yet haply wanting wherewithal to live;
+    Longing to wipe each tear, to heal each groan,
+    Yet frequent all unheeded in his own.
+
+    But honest Nature is not quite a Turk,
+    She laugh'd at first, then felt for her poor work.
+    Pitying the propless climber of mankind,
+    She cast about a standard tree to find;
+    And, to support his helpless woodbine state,
+    Attach'd him to the generous truly great,
+    A title, and the only one I claim,
+    To lay strong hold for help on bounteous Graham.
+
+    Pity the tuneful muses' hapless train,
+    Weak, timid landsmen on life's stormy main!
+    Their hearts no selfish stern absorbent stuff,
+    That never gives--tho' humbly takes enough;
+    The little fate allows, they share as soon,
+    Unlike sage proverb'd wisdom's hard-wrung boon.
+    The world were blest did bliss on them depend,
+    Ah, that "the friendly e'er should want a friend!"
+    Let prudence number o'er each sturdy son
+    Who life and wisdom at one race begun,
+    Who feel by reason and who give by rule,
+    (Instinct's a brute, and sentiment a fool!)
+    Who make poor _will do_ wait upon _I should_--
+    We own they're prudent, but who feels they're good?
+    Ye wise ones, hence! ye hurt the social eye!
+    God's image rudely etch'd on base alloy!
+    But come ye who the godlike pleasure know,
+    Heaven's attribute distinguished--to bestow!
+    Whose arms of love would grasp the human race:
+    Come thou who giv'st with all a courtier's grace;
+    Friend of my life, true patron of my rhymes!
+    Prop of my dearest hopes for future times.
+
+    Why shrinks my soul half blushing, half afraid,
+    Backward, abash'd to ask thy friendly aid?
+    I know my need, I know thy giving hand,
+    I crave thy friendship at thy kind command;
+    But there are such who court the tuneful nine--
+    Heavens! should the branded character be mine!
+    Whose verse in manhood's pride sublimely flows,
+    Yet vilest reptiles in their begging prose.
+    Mark, how their lofty independent spirit
+    Soars on the spurning wing of injur'd merit!
+    Seek not the proofs in private life to find;
+    Pity the best of words should be but wind!
+    So to heaven's gates the lark's shrill song ascends,
+    But grovelling on the earth the carol ends.
+    In all the clam'rous cry of starving want,
+    They dun benevolence with shameless front;
+    Oblige them, patronize their tinsel lays,
+    They persecute you all your future days!
+    Ere my poor soul such deep damnation stain,
+    My horny fist assume the plough again;
+    The pie-bald jacket let me patch once more;
+    On eighteen-pence a week I've liv'd before.
+    Tho', thanks to Heaven, I dare even that last shift!
+    I trust, meantime, my boon is in thy gift:
+    That, plac'd by thee upon the wish'd-for height,
+    Where, man and nature fairer in her sight,
+    My muse may imp her wing for some sublimer flight.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XCIV.
+
+ON THE DEATH OF
+
+SIR JAMES HUNTER BLAIR.
+
+[I found these lines written with a pencil in one of Burns's
+memorandum-books: he said he had just composed them, and pencilled
+them down lest they should escape from his memory. They differed in
+nothing from the printed copy of the first Liverpool edition. That
+they are by Burns there cannot be a doubt, though they were, I know
+not for what reason, excluded from several editions of the Posthumous
+Works of the poet.]
+
+
+    The lamp of day, with ill-presaging glare,
+      Dim, cloudy, sunk beneath the western wave;
+    Th' inconstant blast howl'd thro' the darkening air,
+      And hollow whistled in the rocky cave.
+
+    Lone as I wander'd by each cliff and dell,
+      Once the lov'd haunts of Scotia's royal train;[72]
+    Or mus'd where limpid streams once hallow'd well,[73]
+      Or mould'ring ruins mark the sacred fane.[74]
+
+    Th' increasing blast roared round the beetling rocks,
+      The clouds, swift-wing'd, flew o'er the starry sky,
+    The groaning trees untimely shed their locks,
+      And shooting meteors caught the startled eye.
+
+    The paly moon rose in the livid east,
+      And 'mong the cliffs disclos'd a stately form,
+    In weeds of woe that frantic beat her breast,
+      And mix'd her wailings with the raving storm.
+
+    Wild to my heart the filial pulses glow,
+      'Twas Caledonia's trophied shield I view'd:
+    Her form majestic droop'd in pensive woe,
+      The lightning of her eye in tears imbued.
+
+    Revers'd that spear, redoubtable in war,
+      Reclined that banner, erst in fields unfurl'd,
+    That like a deathful meteor gleam'd afar,
+      And brav'd the mighty monarchs of the world.--
+
+    "My patriot son fills an untimely grave!"
+      With accents wild and lifted arms--she cried;
+    "Low lies the hand that oft was stretch'd to save,
+      Low lies the heart that swell'd with honest pride.
+
+    "A weeping country joins a widow's tear,
+      The helpless poor mix with the orphan's cry;
+    The drooping arts surround their patron's bier,
+      And grateful science heaves the heart-felt sigh!
+
+    "I saw my sons resume their ancient fire;
+      I saw fair freedom's blossoms richly blow:
+    But ah! how hope is born but to expire!
+      Relentless fate has laid their guardian low.
+
+    "My patriot falls, but shall he lie unsung,
+      While empty greatness saves a worthless name!
+    No; every muse shall join her tuneful tongue,
+      And future ages hear his growing fame.
+
+    "And I will join a mother's tender cares,
+      Thro' future times to make his virtues last;
+    That distant years may boast of other Blairs!"--
+      She said, and vanish'd with the sweeping blast.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 72: The King's Park, at Holyrood-house.]
+
+[Footnote 73: St. Anthony's Well.]
+
+[Footnote 74: St. Anthony's Chapel.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XCV.
+
+EPISTLE TO HUGH PARKER.
+
+[This little lively, biting epistle was addressed to one of the poet's
+Kilmarnock companions. Hugh Parker was the brother of William Parker,
+one of the subscribers to the Edinburgh edition of Burns's Poems: he
+has been dead many years: the Epistle was recovered, luckily, from his
+papers, and printed for the first time in 1834.]
+
+
+    In this strange land, this uncouth clime,
+    A land unknown to prose or rhyme;
+    Where words ne'er crost the muse's heckles,
+    Nor limpet in poetic shackles:
+    A land that prose did never view it,
+    Except when drunk he stacher't thro' it,
+    Here, ambush'd by the chimla cheek,
+    Hid in an atmosphere of reek,
+    I hear a wheel thrum i' the neuk,
+    I hear it--for in vain I leuk.--
+    The red peat gleams, a fiery kernel,
+    Enhusked by a fog infernal:
+    Here, for my wonted rhyming raptures,
+    I sit and count my sins by chapters;
+    For life and spunk like ither Christians,
+    I'm dwindled down to mere existence,
+    Wi' nae converse but Gallowa' bodies,
+    Wi' nae kend face but Jenny Geddes.[75]
+    Jenny, my Pegasean pride!
+    Dowie she saunters down Nithside,
+    And ay a westlin leuk she throws,
+    While tears hap o'er her auld brown nose!
+    Was it for this, wi' canny care,
+    Thou bure the bard through many a shire?
+    At howes or hillocks never stumbled,
+    And late or early never grumbled?--
+    O had I power like inclination,
+    I'd heeze thee up a constellation,
+    To canter with the Sagitarre,
+    Or loup the ecliptic like a bar;
+    Or turn the pole like any arrow;
+    Or, when auld Phoebus bids good-morrow,
+    Down the zodiac urge the race,
+    And cast dirt on his godship's face;
+    For I could lay my bread and kail
+    He'd ne'er cast saut upo' thy tail.--
+    Wi' a' this care and a' this grief,
+    And sma,' sma' prospect of relief,
+    And nought but peat reek i' my head,
+    How can I write what ye can read?--
+    Tarbolton, twenty-fourth o' June,
+    Ye'll find me in a better tune;
+    But till we meet and weet our whistle,
+    Tak this excuse for nae epistle.
+
+    ROBERT BURNS.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 75: His mare.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XCVI.
+
+LINES
+
+INTENDED TO BE WRITTEN UNDER
+
+A NOBLE EARL'S PICTURE.
+
+[Burns placed the portraits of Dr. Blacklock and the Earl of
+Glencairn, over his parlour chimney-piece at Ellisland: beneath the
+head of the latter he wrote some verses, which he sent to the Earl,
+and requested leave to make public. This seems to have been refused;
+and, as the verses were lost for years, it was believed they were
+destroyed: a rough copy, however, is preserved, and is now in the safe
+keeping of the Earl's name-son, Major James Glencairn Burns. James
+Cunningham, Earl of Glencairn, died 20th January, 1791, aged 42 years;
+he was succeeded by his only and childless brother, with whom this
+ancient race was closed.]
+
+
+    Whose is that noble dauntless brow?
+      And whose that eye of fire?
+    And whose that generous princely mien,
+      E'en rooted foes admire?
+    Stranger! to justly show that brow,
+      And mark that eye of fire,
+    Would take _His_ hand, whose vernal tints
+      His other works inspire.
+
+    Bright as a cloudless summer sun,
+      With stately port he moves;
+    His guardian seraph eyes with awe
+      The noble ward he loves--
+    Among th' illustrious Scottish sons
+      That chief thou may'st discern;
+    Mark Scotia's fond returning eye--
+      It dwells upon Glencairn.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XCVII.
+
+ELEGY
+
+ON THE YEAR 1788
+
+A SKETCH.
+
+[This Poem was first printed by Stewart, in 1801. The poet loved to
+indulge in such sarcastic sallies: it is full of character, and
+reflects a distinct image of those yeasty times.]
+
+
+    For Lords or Kings I dinna mourn,
+    E'en let them die--for that they're born,
+    But oh! prodigious to reflec'!
+    A Towmont, Sirs, is gane to wreck!
+    O Eighty-eight, in thy sma' space
+    What dire events ha'e taken place!
+    Of what enjoyments thou hast reft us!
+    In what a pickle thou hast left us!
+
+    The Spanish empire's tint a-head,
+    An' my auld toothless Bawtie's dead;
+    The tulzie's sair 'tween Pitt and Fox,
+    And our guid wife's wee birdie cocks;
+    The tane is game, a bluidie devil,
+    But to the hen-birds unco civil:
+    The tither's something dour o' treadin',
+    But better stuff ne'er claw'd a midden--
+    Ye ministers, come mount the pu'pit,
+    An' cry till ye be hearse an' roupet,
+    For Eighty-eight he wish'd you weel,
+    An' gied you a' baith gear an' meal;
+    E'en mony a plack, and mony a peck,
+    Ye ken yoursels, for little feck!
+
+    Ye bonnie lasses, dight your e'en,
+    For some o' you ha'e tint a frien';
+    In Eighty-eight, ye ken, was ta'en,
+    What ye'll ne'er ha'e to gie again.
+
+    Observe the very nowt an' sheep,
+    How dowf and dowie now they creep;
+    Nay, even the yirth itsel' does cry,
+    For Embro' wells are grutten dry.
+    O Eighty-nine, thou's but a bairn,
+    An' no owre auld, I hope, to learn!
+    Thou beardless boy, I pray tak' care,
+    Thou now has got thy daddy's chair,
+    Nae hand-cuff'd, mizl'd, hap-shackl'd Regent,
+    But, like himsel' a full free agent.
+    Be sure ye follow out the plan
+    Nae waur than he did, honest man!
+    As muckle better as ye can.
+
+_January 1_, 1789.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "THE TOOTHACHE."]
+
+XCVIII.
+
+ADDRESS TO THE TOOTHACHE.
+
+["I had intended," says Burns to Creech, 30th May, 1789, "to have
+troubled you with a long letter, but at present the delightful
+sensation of an omnipotent toothache so engrosses all my inner man, as
+to put it out of my power even to write nonsense." The poetic Address
+to the Toothache seems to belong to this period.]
+
+
+    My curse upon thy venom'd stang,
+    That shoots my tortur'd gums alang;
+    And thro' my lugs gies mony a twang,
+                      Wi' gnawing vengeance;
+    Tearing my nerves wi' bitter pang,
+                      Like racking engines!
+
+    When fevers burn, or ague freezes,
+    Rheumatics gnaw, or cholic squeezes;
+    Our neighbours' sympathy may ease us,
+                      Wi' pitying moan;
+    But thee--thou hell o' a' diseases,
+                      Ay mocks our groan!
+
+    Adown my beard the slavers trickle!
+    I kick the wee stools o'er the mickle,
+    As round the fire the giglets keckle,
+                      To see me loup;
+    While, raving mad, I wish a heckle
+                      Were in their doup.
+
+    O' a' the num'rous human dools,
+    Ill har'sts, daft bargains, cutty-stools,
+    Or worthy friends rak'd i' the mools,
+                      Sad sight to see!
+    The tricks o' knaves, or fash o' fools,
+                      Thou bears't the gree.
+
+    Where'er that place be priests ca' hell,
+    Whence a' the tones o' mis'ry yell,
+    And ranked plagues their numbers tell,
+                      In dreadfu' raw,
+    Thou, Toothache, surely bear'st the bell
+                      Amang them a'!
+
+    O thou grim mischief-making chiel,
+    That gars the notes of discord squeel,
+    'Till daft mankind aft dance a reel
+                      In gore a shoe-thick!--
+    Gie' a' the faes o' Scotland's weal
+                      A towmond's Toothache.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XCIX.
+
+ODE
+
+SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF
+
+MRS. OSWALD,
+
+OF AUCHENCRUIVE.
+
+[The origin of this harsh effusion shows under what feelings Burns
+sometimes wrote. He was, he says, on his way to Ayrshire, one stormy
+day in January, and had made himself comfortable, in spite of the
+snow-drift, over a smoking bowl, at an inn at the Sanquhar, when in
+wheeled the whole funeral pageantry of Mrs. Oswald. He was obliged to
+mount his horse and ride for quarters to New Cumnock, where, over a
+good fire, he penned, in his very ungallant indignation, the Ode to
+the lady's memory. He lived to think better of the name.]
+
+
+    Dweller in yon dungeon dark,
+    Hangman of creation, mark!
+    Who in widow-weeds appears,
+    Laden with unhonoured years,
+    Noosing with care a bursting purse,
+    Baited with many a deadly curse?
+
+STROPHE.
+
+    View the wither'd beldam's face--
+    Can thy keen inspection trace
+    Aught of Humanity's sweet melting grace?
+    Note that eye, 'tis rheum o'erflows,
+    Pity's flood there never rose.
+    See these hands, ne'er stretch'd to save,
+    Hands that took--but never gave.
+    Keeper of Mammon's iron chest,
+    Lo, there she goes, unpitied and unblest
+    She goes, but not to realms of everlasting rest!
+
+ANTISTROPHE.
+
+    Plunderer of armies, lift thine eyes,
+    (Awhile forbear, ye tort'ring fiends;)
+    Seest thou whose step, unwilling hither bends?
+    No fallen angel, hurl'd from upper skies;
+    'Tis thy trusty quondam mate,
+    Doom'd to share thy fiery fate,
+    She, tardy, hell-ward plies.
+
+EPODE.
+
+    And are they of no more avail,
+    Ten thousand glitt'ring pounds a-year?
+    In other worlds can Mammon fail,
+    Omnipotent as he is here?
+    O, bitter mock'ry of the pompous bier,
+    While down the wretched vital part is driv'n!
+    The cave-lodg'd beggar, with a conscience clear,
+    Expires in rags, unknown, and goes to Heav'n.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+C.
+
+FRAGMENT INSCRIBED
+
+TO THE RIGHT HON. C.J. FOX.
+
+[It was late in life before Burns began to think very highly of Fox:
+he had hitherto spoken of him rather as a rattler of dice, and a
+frequenter of soft company, than as a statesman. As his hopes from the
+Tories vanished, he began to think of the Whigs: the first did
+nothing, and the latter held out hopes; and as hope, he said was the
+cordial of the human heart, he continued to hope on.]
+
+
+    How wisdom and folly meet, mix, and unite;
+    How virtue and vice blend their black and their white;
+    How genius, th' illustrious father of fiction,
+    Confounds rule and law, reconciles contradiction--
+    I sing: if these mortals, the critics, should bustle,
+    I care not, not I--let the critics go whistle!
+
+    But now for a patron, whose name and whose glory
+    At once may illustrate and honour my story.
+
+    Thou first of our orators, first of our wits;
+    Yet whose parts and acquirements seem mere lucky hits;
+    With knowledge so vast, and with judgment so strong,
+    No man with the half of 'em e'er went far wrong;
+    With passions so potent, and fancies so bright,
+    No man with the half of 'em e'er went quite right;--
+    A sorry, poor misbegot son of the muses,
+    For using thy name offers fifty excuses.
+
+      Good L--d, what is man? for as simple he looks,
+    Do but try to develope his hooks and his crooks;
+    With his depths and his shallows, his good and his evil,
+    All in all he's a problem must puzzle the devil.
+
+    On his one ruling passion Sir Pope hugely labours,
+    That, like th' old Hebrew walking-switch, eats up its neighbours;
+    Mankind are his show-box--a friend, would you know him?
+    Pull the string, ruling passion the picture will show him.
+    What pity, in rearing so beauteous a system,
+    One trifling particular, truth, should have miss'd him;
+    For spite of his fine theoretic positions,
+    Mankind is a science defies definitions.
+
+    Some sort all our qualities each to its tribe,
+    And think human nature they truly describe;
+    Have you found this, or t'other? there's more in the wind,
+    As by one drunken fellow his comrades you'll find.
+
+    But such is the flaw, or the depth of the plan,
+    In the make of that wonderful creature, call'd man,
+    No two virtues, whatever relation they claim,
+    Nor even two different shades of the same,
+    Though like as was ever twin brother to brother,
+    Possessing the one shall imply you've the other.
+
+    But truce with abstraction, and truce with a muse,
+    Whose rhymes you'll perhaps, Sir, ne'er deign to peruse:
+    Will you leave your justings, your jars, and your quarrels,
+    Contending with Billy for proud-nodding laurels.
+    My much-honour'd Patron, believe your poor poet,
+    Your courage much more than your prudence you show it;
+    In vain with Squire Billy, for laurels you struggle,
+    He'll have them by fair trade, if not, he will smuggle;
+    Not cabinets even of kings would conceal 'em,
+    He'd up the back-stairs, and by G--he would steal 'em.
+    Then feats like Squire Billy's you ne'er can achieve 'em;
+    It is not, outdo him, the task is, out-thieve him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CI.
+
+ON SEEING
+
+A WOUNDED HARE
+
+LIMP BY ME,
+
+WHICH A FELLOW HAD JUST SHOT.
+
+[This Poem is founded on fact. A young man of the name of Thomson told
+me--quite unconscious of the existence of the Poem--that while Burns
+lived at Ellisland--he shot at and hurt a hare, which in the twilight
+was feeding on his father's wheat-bread. The poet, on observing the
+hare come bleeding past him, "was in great wrath," said Thomson, "and
+cursed me, and said little hindered him from throwing me into the
+Nith; and he was able enough to do it, though I was both young and
+strong." The boor of Nithside did not use the hare worse than the
+critical Dr. Gregory, of Edinburgh, used the Poem: when Burns read his
+remarks he said, "Gregory is a good man, but he crucifies me!"]
+
+
+    Inhuman man! curse on thy barb'rous art,
+      And blasted be thy murder-aiming eye;
+      May never pity soothe thee with a sigh,
+    Nor ever pleasure glad thy cruel heart.
+
+    Go live, poor wanderer of the wood and field!
+      The bitter little that of life remains:
+      No more the thickening brakes and verdant plains
+    To thee shall home, or food, or pastime yield.
+
+    Seek, mangled wretch, some place of wonted rest,
+      No more of rest, but now thy dying bed!
+      The sheltering rushes whistling o'er thy head,
+    The cold earth with thy bloody bosom prest.
+
+    Oft as by winding Nith, I, musing, wait
+      The sober eve, or hail the cheerful dawn;
+      I'll miss thee sporting o'er the dewy lawn,
+    And curse the ruffian's aim, and mourn thy hapless fate.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CII.
+
+TO DR. BLACKLOCK,
+
+IN ANSWER TO A LETTER.
+
+[This blind scholar, though an indifferent Poet, was an excellent and
+generous man: he was foremost of the Edinburgh literati to admire the
+Poems of Burns, promote their fame, and advise that the author,
+instead of shipping himself for Jamaica, should come to Edinburgh and
+publish a new edition. The poet reverenced the name of Thomas
+Blacklock to the last hour of his life.--Henry Mackenzie, the Earl of
+Glencairn, and the Blind Bard, were his three favourites.]
+
+
+_Ellisland, 21st Oct._ 1789.
+
+    Wow, but your letter made me vauntie!
+    And are ye hale, and weel, and cantie?
+    I kenn'd it still your wee bit jauntie
+                      Wad bring ye to:
+    Lord send you ay as weel's I want ye,
+                      And then ye'll do.
+
+    The ill-thief blaw the heron south!
+    And never drink be near his drouth!
+    He tauld mysel' by word o' mouth,
+                      He'd tak my letter:
+    I lippen'd to the chief in trouth,
+                      And bade nae better.
+
+    But aiblins honest Master Heron,
+    Had at the time some dainty fair one,
+    To ware his theologic care on,
+                      And holy study;
+    And tir'd o' sauls to waste his lear on
+                      E'en tried the body.
+
+    But what dy'e think, my trusty fier,
+    I'm turn'd a gauger--Peace be here!
+    Parnassian queans, I fear, I fear,
+                      Ye'll now disdain me!
+    And then my fifty pounds a year
+                      Will little gain me.
+
+    Ye glaiket, gleesome, dainty damies,
+    Wha, by Castalia's wimplin' streamies,
+    Lowp, sing, and lave your pretty limbies,
+                      Ye ken, ye ken,
+    That strang necessity supreme is
+                      'Mang sons o' men.
+
+    I hae a wife and twa wee laddies,
+    They maun hae brose and brats o' duddies;
+    Ye ken yoursels my heart right proud is--
+                      I need na vaunt,
+    But I'll sned besoms--thraw saugh woodies,
+                      Before they want.
+
+    Lord help me thro' this warld o' care!
+    I'm weary sick o't late and air!
+    Not but I hae a richer share
+                      Than mony ithers:
+    But why should ae man better fare,
+                      And a' men brithers?
+
+    Come, firm Resolve, take then the van,
+    Thou stalk o' carl-hemp in man!
+    And let us mind, faint-heart ne'er wan
+                      A lady fair:
+    Wha does the utmost that he can,
+                      Will whyles do mair.
+
+    But to conclude my silly rhyme,
+    (I'm scant o' verse, and scant o' time,)
+    To make a happy fire-side clime
+                      To weans and wife,
+    That's the true pathos and sublime
+                      Of human life.
+
+    My compliments to sister Beckie;
+    And eke the same to honest Lucky,
+    I wat she is a dainty chuckie,
+                      As e'er tread clay!
+    And gratefully, my guid auld cockie,
+                      I'm yours for ay,
+
+ROBERT BURNS.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CIII.
+
+DELIA.
+
+AN ODE.
+
+[These verses were first printed in the Star newspaper, in May, 1789.
+It is said that one day a friend read to the poet some verses from the
+Star, composed on the pattern of Pope's song, by a Person of Quality.
+"These lines are beyond you," he added: "the muse of Kyle cannot match
+the muse of London." Burns mused a moment, then recited "Delia, an
+Ode."]
+
+
+    Fair the face of orient day,
+    Fair the tints of op'ning rose,
+    But fairer still my Delia dawns,
+    More lovely far her beauty blows.
+
+    Sweet the lark's wild-warbled lay,
+    Sweet the tinkling rill to hear;
+    But, Delia, more delightful still
+    Steal thine accents on mine ear.
+
+    The flow'r-enamoured busy bee
+    The rosy banquet loves to sip;
+    Sweet the streamlet's limpid lapse
+    To the sun-brown'd Arab's lip;--
+
+    But, Delia, on thy balmy lips
+    Let me, no vagrant insect, rove!
+    O, let me steal one liquid kiss!
+    For, oh! my soul is parch'd with love.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CIV.
+
+TO JOHN M'MURDO, ESQ.
+
+[John M'Murdo, Esq., one of the chamberlains of the Duke of
+Queensberry, lived at Drumlanrig: he was a high-minded, warm-hearted
+man, and much the friend of the poet. These lines accompanied a
+present of books: others were added soon afterwards on a pane of glass
+in Drumlanrig castle.
+
+    "Blest be M'Murdo to his latest day!
+    No envious cloud o'ercast his evening ray;
+    No wrinkle furrowed by the hand of care,
+    Nor ever sorrow add one silver hair!
+    O may no son the father's honour stain,
+    Nor ever daughter give the mother pain."
+
+How fully the poet's wishes were fulfilled need not be told to any one
+acquainted with the family.]
+
+
+    O, could I give thee India's wealth,
+      As I this trifle send!
+    Because thy joy in both would be
+      To share them with a friend.
+
+    But golden sands did never grace
+      The Heliconian stream;
+    Then take what gold could never buy--
+      An honest Bard's esteem.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CV.
+
+PROLOGUE,
+
+SPOKEN AT THE THEATRE, DUMFRIES,
+
+1 JAN. 1790.
+
+[This prologue was written in December, 1789, for Mr. Sutherland, who
+recited it with applause in the little theatre of Dumfries, on
+new-year's night. Sir Harris Nicolas, however, has given to Ellisland
+the benefit of a theatre! and to Burns the whole barony of Dalswinton
+for a farm!]
+
+
+    No song nor dance I bring from yon great city
+    That queens it o'er our taste--the more's the pity:
+    Tho', by-the-by, abroad why will you roam?
+    Good sense and taste are natives here at home:
+    But not for panegyric I appear,
+    I come to wish you all a good new year!
+    Old Father Time deputes me here before ye,
+    Not for to preach, but tell his simple story:
+    The sage grave ancient cough'd, and bade me say,
+    "You're one year older this important day."
+    If wiser too--he hinted some suggestion,
+    But 'twould be rude, you know, to ask the question;
+    And with a would-be roguish leer and wink,
+    He bade me on you press this one word--"think!"
+
+      Ye sprightly youths, quite flushed with hope and spirit,
+    Who think to storm the world by dint of merit,
+    To you the dotard has a deal to say,
+    In his sly, dry, sententious, proverb way;
+    He bids you mind, amid your thoughtless rattle,
+    That the first blow is ever half the battle:
+    That tho' some by the skirt may try to snatch him,
+    Yet by the forelock is the hold to catch him;
+    That whether doing, suffering, or forbearing,
+    You may do miracles by persevering.
+
+      Last, tho' not least in love, ye youthful fair,
+    Angelic forms, high Heaven's peculiar care!
+    To yon old Bald-pate smooths his wrinkled brow,
+    And humbly begs you'll mind the important NOW!
+    To crown your happiness he asks your leave,
+    And offers bliss to give and to receive.
+
+      For our sincere, tho' haply weak endeavours,
+    With grateful pride we own your many favours,
+    And howsoe'er our tongues may ill reveal it,
+    Believe our glowing bosoms truly feel it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CVI.
+
+SCOTS PROLOGUE,
+
+FOR MR. SUTHERLAND'S BENEFIT NIGHT,
+
+DUMFRIES.
+
+[Burns did not shine in prologues: he produced some vigorous lines,
+but they did not come in harmony from his tongue, like the songs in
+which he recorded the loveliness of the dames of Caledonia. Sutherland
+was manager of the theatre, and a writer of rhymes.--Burns said his
+players were a very decent set: he had seen them an evening or two.]
+
+
+      What needs this din about the town o' Lon'on,
+    How this new play an' that new sang is comin'?
+    Why is outlandish stuff sae meikle courted?
+    Does nonsense mend like whiskey, when imported?
+    Is there nae poet, burning keen for fame,
+    Will try to gie us songs and plays at hame?
+    For comedy abroad he need nae toil,
+    A fool and knave are plants of every soil;
+    Nor need he hunt as far as Rome and Greece
+    To gather matter for a serious piece;
+    There's themes enough in Caledonian story,
+    Would show the tragic muse in a' her glory.
+
+    Is there no daring bard will rise, and tell
+    How glorious Wallace stood, how hapless fell?
+    Where are the muses fled that could produce
+    A drama worthy o' the name o' Bruce;
+    How here, even here, he first unsheath'd the sword,
+    'Gainst mighty England and her guilty lord,
+    And after mony a bloody, deathless doing,
+    Wrench'd his dear country from the jaws of ruin?
+    O for a Shakspeare or an Otway scene,
+    To draw the lovely, hapless Scottish Queen!
+    Vain all th' omnipotence of female charms
+    'Gainst headlong, ruthless, mad Rebellion's arms.
+
+    She fell, but fell with spirit truly Roman,
+    To glut the vengeance of a rival woman;
+    A woman--tho' the phrase may seem uncivil--
+    As able and as cruel as the Devil!
+    One Douglas lives in Home's immortal page,
+    But Douglases were heroes every age:
+    And tho' your fathers, prodigal of life,
+    A Douglas follow'd to the martial strife,
+    Perhaps if bowls row right, and right succeeds,
+    Ye yet may follow where a Douglas leads!
+
+    As ye hae generous done, if a' the land
+    Would take the muses' servants by the hand;
+    Not only hear, but patronize, befriend them,
+    And where ye justly can commend, commend them;
+    And aiblins when they winna stand the test,
+    Wink hard, and say the folks hae done their best!
+    Would a' the land do this, then I'll be caution
+    Ye'll soon hae poets o' the Scottish nation,
+    Will gar fame blaw until her trumpet crack,
+    And warsle time, on' lay him on his back!
+    For us and for our stage should ony spier,
+    "Whose aught thae chiels maks a' this bustle here!"
+    My best leg foremost, I'll set up my brow,
+    We have the honour to belong to you!
+    We're your ain bairns, e'en guide us as ye like,
+    But like good withers, shore before ye strike.--
+    And gratefu' still I hope ye'll ever find us,
+    For a' the patronage and meikle kindness
+    We've got frae a' professions, sets, and ranks:
+    God help us! we're but poor--ye'se get but thanks.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CVII.
+
+SKETCH.
+
+NEW YEAR'S DAY.
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP.
+
+[This is a picture of the Dunlop family: it was printed from a hasty
+sketch, which the poet called extempore. The major whom it mentions,
+was General Andrew Dunlop, who died in 1804: Rachel Dunlop was
+afterwards married to Robert Glasgow, Esq. Another of the Dunlops
+served with distinction in India, where he rose to the rank of
+General. They were a gallant race, and all distinguished.]
+
+
+    This day, Time winds th' exhausted chain,
+    To run the twelvemonth's length again:
+    I see the old, bald-pated follow,
+    With ardent eyes, complexion sallow,
+    Adjust the unimpair'd machine,
+    To wheel the equal, dull routine.
+
+    The absent lover, minor heir,
+    In vain assail him with their prayer;
+    Deaf as my friend, he sees them press,
+    Nor makes the hour one moment less.
+    Will you (the Major's with the hounds,
+    The happy tenants share his rounds;
+    Coila's fair Rachel's care to-day,
+    And blooming Keith's engaged with Gray)
+    From housewife cares a minute borrow--
+    That grandchild's cap will do to-morrow--
+    And join with me a moralizing,
+    This day's propitious to be wise in.
+
+    First, what did yesternight deliver?
+    "Another year is gone for ever."
+    And what is this day's strong suggestion?
+    "The passing moment's all we rest on!"
+    Rest on--for what? what do we here?
+    Or why regard the passing year?
+    Will time, amus'd with proverb'd lore,
+    Add to our date one minute more?
+    A few days more--a few years must--
+    Repose us in the silent dust.
+    Then is it wise to damp our bliss?
+    Yes--all such reasonings are amiss!
+    The voice of nature loudly cries,
+    And many a message from the skies,
+    That something in us never dies:
+    That on this frail, uncertain state,
+    Hang matters of eternal weight:
+    That future life in worlds unknown
+    Must take its hue from this alone;
+    Whether as heavenly glory bright,
+    Or dark as misery's woeful night.--
+
+    Since then, my honour'd, first of friends,
+    On this poor being all depends,
+    Let us th' important _now_ employ,
+    And live as those who never die.--
+
+    Tho' you, with days and honours crown'd,
+    Witness that filial circle round,
+    (A sight, life's sorrows to repulse,
+    A sight, pale envy to convulse,)
+    Others now claim your chief regard;
+    Yourself, you wait your bright reward.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CVIII.
+
+TO A GENTLEMAN
+
+WHO HAD SENT HIM A NEWSPAPER, AND OFFERED TO
+
+CONTINUE IT FREE OF EXPENSE.
+
+[These sarcastic lines contain a too true picture of the times in
+which they were written. Though great changes have taken place in
+court and camp, yet Austria, Russia, and Prussia keep the tack of
+Poland: nobody says a word of Denmark: emasculated Italy is still
+singing; opera girls are still dancing; but Chatham Will, glaikit
+Charlie, Daddie Burke, Royal George, and Geordie Wales, have all
+passed to their account.]
+
+
+    Kind Sir, I've read your paper through,
+    And, faith, to me 'twas really new!
+    How guess'd ye, Sir, what maist I wanted?
+    This mony a day I've grain'd and gaunted,
+    To ken what French mischief was brewin';
+    Or what the drumlie Dutch were doin';
+    That vile doup-skelper, Emperor Joseph,
+    If Venus yet had got his nose off;
+    Or how the collieshangie works
+    Atween the Russians and the Turks:
+    Or if the Swede, before he halt,
+    Would play anither Charles the Twalt:
+    If Denmark, any body spak o't;
+    Or Poland, wha had now the tack o't;
+    How cut-throat Prussian blades were hingin';
+    How libbet Italy was singin';
+    If Spaniard, Portuguese, or Swiss
+    Were sayin' or takin' aught amiss:
+    Or how our merry lads at hame,
+    In Britain's court kept up the game:
+    How royal George, the Lord leuk o'er him!
+    Was managing St. Stephen's quorum;
+    If sleekit Chatham Will was livin';
+    Or glaikit Charlie got his nieve in:
+    How daddie Burke the plea was cookin',
+    If Warren Hastings' neck was yeukin;
+    How cesses, stents, and fees were rax'd,
+    Or if bare a--s yet were tax'd;
+    The news o' princes, dukes, and earls,
+    Pimps, sharpers, bawds, and opera girls;
+    If that daft buckie, Geordie Wales,
+    Was threshin' still at hizzies' tails;
+    Or if he was grown oughtlins douser,
+    And no a perfect kintra cooser.--
+    A' this and mair I never heard of;
+    And but for you I might despair'd of.
+    So, gratefu', back your news I send you,
+    And pray, a' guid things may attend you!
+
+_Ellisland, Monday morning_, 1790.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CIX.
+
+THE KIRK'S ALARM;[76]
+
+A SATIRE.
+
+[FIRST VERSION.]
+
+[The history of this Poem is curious. M'Gill, one of the ministers of
+Ayr, long suspected of entertaining heterodox opinions concerning
+original sin and the Trinity, published "A Practical Essay on the
+Death of Jesus Christ," which, in the opinion of the more rigid
+portion of his brethren, inclined both to Arianism and Socinianism.
+This essay was denounced as heretical, by a minister of the name
+Peebles, in a sermon preached November 5th, 1788, and all the west
+country was in a flame. The subject was brought before the Synod, and
+was warmly debated till M'Gill expressed his regret for the disquiet
+he had occasioned, explained away or apologized for the challenged
+passages in his Essay, and declared his adherence to the Standard
+doctrines of his mother church. Burns was prevailed upon to bring his
+satire to the aid of M'Gill, but he appears to have done so with
+reluctance.]
+
+
+          Orthodox, orthodox,
+          Wha believe in John Knox,
+    Let me sound an alarm to your conscience:
+          There's a heretic blast
+          Has been blawn in the wast,
+    That what is no sense must be nonsense.
+
+          Dr. Mac,[77] Dr. Mac,
+          You should stretch on a rack,
+    To strike evil doers wi' terror;
+          To join faith and sense
+          Upon ony pretence,
+    Is heretic, damnable error.
+
+          Town of Ayr, town of Ayr,
+          It was mad, I declare,
+    To meddle wi' mischief a-brewing;
+          Provost John[78] is still deaf
+          To the church's relief,
+    And orator Bob[79] is its ruin.
+
+          D'rymple mild,[80] D'rymple mild,
+          Thro' your heart's like a child,
+    And your life like the new driven snaw,
+          Yet that winna save ye,
+          Auld Satan must hav ye,
+    For preaching that three's ane an' twa.
+
+          Rumble John,[81] Rumble John,
+          Mount the steps wi' a groan,
+    Cry the book is wi' heresy cramm'd;
+          Then lug out your ladle,
+          Deal brimstone like adle,
+    And roar every note of the danm'd.
+
+          Simper James,[82] Simper James,
+          Leave the fair Killie dames,
+    There's a holier chase in your view;
+          I'll lay on your head
+          That the pack ye'll soon lead.
+    For puppies like you there's but few.
+
+          Singet Sawney,[83] Singet Sawney,
+          Are ye herding the penny,
+    Unconscious what evil await?
+          Wi' a jump, yell, and howl,
+          Alarm every soul,
+    For the foul thief is just at your gate.
+
+          Daddy Auld,[84] Daddy Auld,
+          There's a tod in the fauld,
+    A tod meikle waur than the clerk;
+          Though yo can do little skaith,
+          Ye'll be in at the death,
+    And gif ye canna bite, ye may bark.
+
+          Davie Bluster,[85] Davie Bluster,
+          If for a saint ye do muster,
+    The corps is no nice of recruits;
+          Yet to worth let's be just,
+          Royal blood ye might boast,
+    If the ass was the king of the brutes.
+
+          Jamy Goose,[86] Jamy Goose,
+          Ye ha'e made but toom roose,
+    In hunting the wicked lieutenant;
+          But the Doctor's your mark,
+          For the L--d's haly ark;
+    He has cooper'd and cawd a wrang pin in't.
+
+          Poet Willie,[87] Poet Willie,
+          Fie the Doctor a volley,
+    Wi' your liberty's chain and your wit;
+          O'er Pegasus' side
+          Ye ne'er laid astride,
+    Ye but smelt, man, the place where he ----.
+
+          Andro Gouk,[88], Andro Gouk,
+          Ye may slander the book,
+    And the book not the waur, let me tell ye;
+          Ye are rich and look big,
+          But lay by hat and wig,
+    And ye'll ha'e a calf's head o' sma' value.
+
+          Barr Steenie,[89] Barr Steenie,
+          What mean ye, what mean ye?
+    If ye'll meddle nae mair wi' the matter,
+          Ye may ha'e some pretence
+          To havins and sense,
+    Wi' people wha ken ye nae better.
+
+          Irvine side,[90] Irvine side,
+          Wi' your turkey-cock pride,
+    Of manhood but sum' is your share,
+          Ye've the figure 'tis true,
+          Even your faes will allow,
+    And your friends they dae grunt you nae mair.
+
+          Muirland Jock,[91] Muirland Jock,
+          When the L--d makes a rock
+    To crush Common sense for her sins,
+          If ill manners were wit,
+          There's no mortal so fit
+    To confound the poor Doctor at ance.
+
+          Holy Will,[92] Holy Will,
+          There was wit i' your skull,
+    When ye pilfer'd the alms o' the poor;
+          The timmer is scant,
+          When ye're ta'en for a saunt,
+    Wha should swing in a rape for an hour.
+
+          Calvin's sons, Calvin's sons,
+          Seize your spir'tual guns,
+    Ammunition you never can need;
+          Your hearts are the stuff,
+          Will be powther enough,
+    And your skulls are storehouses o' lead.
+
+          Poet Burns, Poet Burns,
+          Wi' your priest-skelping turns,
+    Why desert ye your auld native shire?
+          Your muse is a gipsie,
+          E'en tho' she were tipsie,
+    She could ca' us nae waur than we are.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 76: This Poem was written a short time after the publication
+of M'Gill's Essay.]
+
+[Footnote 77: Dr. M'Gill.]
+
+[Footnote 78: John Ballantyne.]
+
+[Footnote 79: Robert Aiken.]
+
+[Footnote 80: Dr. Dalrymple.]
+
+[Footnote 81: Mr. Russell.]
+
+[Footnote 82: Mr. M'Kinlay.]
+
+[Footnote 83: Mr. Moody, of Riccarton.]
+
+[Footnote 84: Mr. Auld of Mauchline.]
+
+[Footnote 85: Mr. Grant, of Ochiltree.]
+
+[Footnote 86: Mr. Young, of Cumnock.]
+
+[Footnote 87: Mr. Peebles, Ayr.]
+
+[Footnote 88: Dr. Andrew Mitchell, of Monkton.]
+
+[Footnote 89: Mr. Stephen Young, of Barr.]
+
+[Footnote 90: Mr. George Smith, of Galston.]
+
+[Footnote 91: Mr. John Shepherd, Muirkirk.]
+
+[Footnote 92: Holy Willie, alias William Fisher, Elder in Mauchline.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CX.
+
+THE KIRK'S ALARM.
+
+A BALLAD.
+
+[SECOND VERSION.]
+
+[This version is from the papers of Miss Logan, of Afton. The origin
+of the Poem is thus related to Graham of Fintry by the poet himself:
+"Though I dare say you have none of the solemn League and Covenant
+fire Which shone so conspicuous in Lord George Gordon, and the
+Kilmarnock weavers, yet I think you must have heard of Dr. M'Gill, one
+of the clergymen of Ayr, and his heretical book, God help him, poor
+man! Though one of the worthiest, as well as one of the ablest of the
+whole priesthood of the Kirk of Scotland, in every sense of that
+ambiguous term, yet the poor doctor and his numerous family are in
+imminent danger of being thrown out (9th December, 1790) to the mercy
+of the winter winds. The enclosed ballad on that business, is, I
+confess too local: but I laughed myself at some conceits in it, though
+I am convinced in my conscience there are a good many heavy stanzas in
+it too." The Kirk's Alarm was first printed by Stewart, in 1801.
+Cromek calls it, "A silly satire, on some worthy ministers of the
+gospel, in Ayrshire."]
+
+
+I.
+
+          Orthodox, orthodox,
+          Who believe in John Knox,
+    Let me sound an alarm to your conscience--
+          There's a heretic blast,
+          Has been blawn i' the wast,
+    That what is not sense must be nonsense,
+                      Orthodox,
+    That what is not sense must be nonsense.
+
+II.
+
+          Doctor Mac, Doctor Mac,
+          Ye should stretch on a rack,
+    And strike evil doers wi' terror;
+          To join faith and sense,
+          Upon any pretence,
+    Was heretic damnable error,
+                      Doctor Mac,
+    Was heretic damnable error.
+
+III.
+
+          Town of Ayr, town of Ayr,
+          It was rash I declare,
+    To meddle wi' mischief a-brewing;
+          Provost John is still deaf,
+          To the church's relief,
+    And orator Bob is its ruin,
+                      Town Of Ayr,
+    And orator Bob is its ruin.
+
+IV.
+
+          D'rymple mild, D'rymple mild,
+          Tho' your heart's like a child,
+    And your life like the new-driven snaw,
+          Yet that winna save ye,
+          Old Satan must have ye
+    For preaching that three's are an' twa,
+                      D'rymple mild,
+    For preaching that three's are an' twa.
+
+V.
+
+          Calvin's sons, Calvin's sons,
+          Seize your spiritual guns,
+    Ammunition ye never can need;
+          Your hearts are the stuff,
+          Will be powder enough,
+    And your skulls are a storehouse of lead,
+                      Calvin's sons,
+    And your skulls are a storehouse of lead.
+
+VI.
+
+          Rumble John, Rumble John,
+          Mount the steps with a groan,
+    Cry the book is with heresy cramm'd;
+          Then lug out your ladle,
+          Deal brimstone like aidle,
+    And roar every note o' the damn'd,
+                      Rumble John,
+    And roar every note o' the damn'd.
+
+VII.
+
+          Simper James, Simper James,
+          Leave the fair Killie dames,
+    There's a holier chase in your view;
+          I'll lay on your head,
+          That the pack ye'll soon lead,
+    For puppies like you there's but few,
+                      Simper James,
+    For puppies like you there's but few.
+
+VIII.
+
+          Singet Sawnie, Singet Sawnie,
+          Are ye herding the penny,
+    Unconscious what danger awaits?
+          With a jump, yell, and howl,
+          Alarm every soul,
+    For Hannibal's just at your gates,
+                      Singet Sawnie,
+    For Hannibal's just at your gates.
+
+IX.
+
+          Andrew Gowk, Andrew Gowk,
+          Ye may slander the book,
+    And the book nought the waur--let me tell you;
+          Tho' ye're rich and look big,
+          Yet lay by hat and wig,
+    And ye'll hae a calf's-head o' sma' value,
+                      Andrew Gowk,
+    And ye'll hae a calf's-head o' sma' value.
+
+X.
+
+          Poet Willie, Poet Willie,
+          Gie the doctor a volley,
+    Wi' your "liberty's chain" and your wit;
+          O'er Pegasus' side,
+          Ye ne'er laid a stride
+    Ye only stood by when he ----,
+                      Poet Willie,
+    Ye only stood by when he ----.
+
+XI.
+
+          Barr Steenie, Barr Steenie,
+          What mean ye? what mean ye?
+    If ye'll meddle nae mair wi' the matter,
+          Ye may hae some pretence, man,
+          To havins and sense, man,
+    Wi' people that ken ye nae better,
+                      Barr Steenie,
+    Wi' people that ken ye nae better.
+
+XII.
+
+          Jamie Goose, Jamie Goose,
+          Ye hae made but toom roose,
+    O' hunting the wicked lieutenant;
+          But the doctor's your mark,
+          For the L--d's holy ark,
+    He has cooper'd and ca'd a wrong pin in't,
+                      Jamie Goose,
+    He has cooper'd and ca'd a wrong pin in't.
+
+XIII.
+
+          Davie Bluster, Davie Bluster,
+          For a saunt if ye muster,
+    It's a sign they're no nice o' recruits,
+          Yet to worth let's be just,
+          Royal blood ye might boast,
+    If the ass were the king o' the brutes,
+                      Davie Bluster,
+    If the ass were the king o' the brutes.
+
+XIV.
+
+          Muirland George, Muirland George,
+          Whom the Lord made a scourge,
+    To claw common sense for her sins;
+          If ill manners were wit,
+          There's no mortal so fit,
+    To confound the poor doctor at ance,
+                      Muirland George,
+    To confound the poor doctor at ance.
+
+XV.
+
+          Cessnockside, Cessnockside,
+          Wi' your turkey-cock pride,
+    O' manhood but sma' is your share;
+          Ye've the figure, it's true,
+          Even our faes maun allow,
+    And your friends daurna say ye hae mair,
+                      Cessnockside,
+    And your friends daurna say ye hae mair.
+
+XVI.
+
+          Daddie Auld, Daddie Auld,
+          There's a tod i' the fauld
+    A tod meikle waur than the clerk;[93]
+          Tho' ye downa do skaith,
+          Ye'll be in at the death,
+    And if ye canna bite ye can bark,
+                      Daddie Auld,
+    And if ye canna bite ye can bark.
+
+XVII.
+
+          Poet Burns, Poet Burns,
+          Wi' your priest-skelping turns,
+    Why desert ye your auld native shire?
+          Tho' your Muse is a gipsy,
+          Yet were she even tipsy,
+    She could ca' us nae waur than we are,
+                      Poet Burns,
+    She could ca' us nae waur than we are.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+POSTSCRIPT.
+
+          Afton's Laird, Afton's Laird,
+          When your pen can be spar'd,
+    A copy o' this I bequeath,
+          On the same sicker score
+          I mentioned before,
+    To that trusty auld worthy Clackleith,
+                      Afton's Laird,
+    To that trusty auld worthy Clackleith.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 93: Gavin Hamilton.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXI.
+
+PEG NICHOLSON.
+
+[These hasty verses are to be found in a letter addressed to Nicol, of
+the High School of Edinburgh, by the poet, giving him on account of
+the unlooked-for death of his mare, Peg Nicholson, the successor of
+Jenny Geddes. She had suffered both in the employ of the joyous priest
+and the thoughtless poet. She acquired her name from that frantic
+virago who attempted to murder George the Third.]
+
+
+    Peg Nicholson was a good bay mare,
+      As ever trode on airn;
+    But now she's floating down the Nith,
+      And past the mouth o' Cairn.
+
+    Peg Nicholson was a good bay mare,
+      And rode thro' thick an' thin;
+    But now she's floating down the Nith,
+      And wanting even the skin.
+
+    Peg Nicholson was a good bay mare,
+      And ance she bore a priest;
+    But now she's flouting down the Nith,
+      For Solway fish a feast.
+
+    Peg Nicholson was a good bay mare,
+      And the priest he rode her sair;
+    And much oppress'd and bruis'd she was;
+      As priest-rid cattle are, &c. &c.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXII.
+
+ON
+
+CAPTAIN MATTHEW HENDERSON,
+
+A GENTLEMAN WHO HELD THE PATENT FOR HIS HONOURS
+
+IMMEDIATELY FROM ALMIGHTY GOD.
+
+    "Should the poor be flattered?"
+
+SHAKSPEARE.
+
+    But now his radiant course is run,
+      For Matthew's course was bright;
+    His soul was like the glorious sun,
+     A matchless heav'nly light!
+
+[Captain Matthew Henderson, a gentleman of very agreeable manners and
+great propriety of character, usually lived in Edinburgh, dined
+constantly at Fortune's Tavern, and was a member of the Capillaire
+Club, which was composed of all who desired to be thought witty or
+joyous: he died in 1789: Burns, in a note to the Poem, says, "I loved
+the man much, and have not flattered his memory." Henderson seems
+indeed to have been universally liked. "In our travelling party," says
+Sir James Campbell, of Ardkinglass, "was Matthew Henderson, then
+(1759) and afterwards well known and much esteemed in the town of
+Edinburgh; at that time an officer in the twenty-fifth regiment of
+foot, and like myself on his way to join the army; and I may say with
+truth, that in the course of a long life I have never known a more
+estimable character, than Matthew Henderson." _Memoirs of Campbell, of
+Ardkinglass_, p. 17.]
+
+
+    O death! thou tyrant fell and bloody!
+    The meikle devil wi' a woodie
+    Haurl thee hame to his black smiddie,
+                      O'er hurcheon hides,
+    And like stock-fish come o'er his studdie
+                      Wi' thy auld sides!
+
+    He's gane! he's gane! he's frae us torn,
+    The ae best fellow e'er was born!
+    Thee, Matthew, Nature's sel' shall mourn
+                      By wood and wild,
+    Where, haply, pity strays forlorn,
+                      Frae man exil'd!
+
+    Ye hills! near neebors o' the starns,
+    That proudly cock your cresting cairns!
+    Ye cliffs, the haunts of sailing yearns,
+                      Where echo slumbers!
+    Come join, ye Nature's sturdiest bairns,
+                      My wailing numbers!
+
+    Mourn, ilka grove the cushat kens!
+    Ye haz'lly shaws and briery dens!
+    Ye burnies, wimplin' down your glens,
+                      Wi' toddlin' din,
+    Or foaming strang, wi' hasty stens,
+                      Frae lin to lin!
+
+    Mourn, little harebells o'er the lea;
+    Ye stately foxgloves fair to see;
+    Ye woodbines, hanging bonnilie,
+                      In scented bow'rs;
+    Ye roses on your thorny tree,
+                      The first o' flow'rs.
+
+    At dawn, when ev'ry grassy blade
+    Droops with a diamond at its head,
+    At ev'n, when beans their fragrance shed
+                      I' th' rustling gale,
+    Ye maukins whiddin thro' the glade,
+                      Come join my wail.
+
+    Mourn, ye wee songsters o' the wood;
+    Ye grouse that crap the heather bud;
+    Ye curlews calling thro' a clud;
+                      Ye whistling plover;
+    An' mourn, ye whirring paitrick brood!--
+                      He's gane for ever!
+
+    Mourn, sooty coots, and speckled teals;
+    Ye fisher herons, watching eels:
+    Ye duck and drake, wi' airy wheels
+                      Circling the lake;
+    Ye bitterns, till the quagmire reels,
+                      Rair for his sake.
+
+    Mourn, clam'ring craiks, at close o' day,
+    'Mang fields o' flowering clover gay;
+    And when ye wing your annual way
+                      Frae our cauld shore,
+    Tell thae far warlds, wha lies in clay,
+                      Wham we deplore.
+
+    Ye houlets, frae your ivy bow'r,
+    In some auld tree, or eldritch tow'r,
+    What time the moon, wi' silent glow'r,
+                      Sets up her horn,
+    Wail thro' the dreary midnight hour
+                      'Till waukrife morn!
+
+    O rivers, forests, hills, and plains!
+    Oft have ye heard my canty strains:
+    But now, what else for me remains
+                      But tales of woe?
+    And frae my een the drapping rains
+                      Maun ever flow.
+
+    Mourn, spring, thou darling of the year!
+    Ilk cowslip cup shall kep a tear:
+    Thou, simmer, while each corny spear
+                      Shoots up its head,
+    The gay, green, flow'ry tresses shear
+                      For him that's dead!
+
+    Thou, autumn, wi' thy yellow hair,
+    In grief thy sallow mantle tear:
+    Thou, winter, hurling thro' the air
+                      The roaring blast,
+    Wide, o'er the naked world declare
+                      The worth we've lost!
+
+    Mourn him, thou sun, great source of light!
+    Mourn, empress of the silent night!
+    And you, ye twinkling starnies bright,
+                      My Matthew mourn!
+    For through your orbs he's ta'en his flight,
+                      Ne'er to return.
+
+    O, Henderson! the man--the brother!
+    And art thou gone, and gone for ever?
+    And hast thou crost that unknown river
+                      Life's dreary bound?
+    Like thee, where shall I find another,
+                      The world around?
+
+    Go to your sculptur'd tombs, ye great,
+    In a' the tinsel trash o' state!
+    But by thy honest turf I'll wait,
+                      Thou man of worth!
+    And weep the ae best fellow's fate
+                      E'er lay in earth.
+
+THE EPITAPH.
+
+    Stop, passenger!--my story's brief,
+      And truth I shall relate, man;
+    I tell nae common tale o' grief--
+      For Matthew was a great man.
+
+    If thou uncommon merit hast,
+      Yet spurn'd at fortune's door, man,
+    A look of pity hither cast--
+      For Matthew was a poor man.
+
+    If thou a noble sodger art,
+      That passest by this grave, man,
+    There moulders here a gallant heart--
+      For Matthew was a brave man.
+
+    If thou on men, their works and ways,
+      Canst throw uncommon light, man,
+    Here lies wha weel had won thy praise--
+      For Matthew was a bright man.
+
+    If thou at friendship's sacred ca'
+      Wad life itself resign, man,
+    Thy sympathetic tear maun fa'--
+      For Matthew was a kind man!
+
+    If thou art staunch without a stain,
+      Like the unchanging blue, man,
+    This was a kinsman o' thy ain--
+      For Matthew was a true man.
+
+    If thou hast wit, and fun, and fire,
+      And ne'er guid wine did fear, man,
+    This was thy billie, dam and sire--
+      For Matthew was a queer man.
+
+    If ony whiggish whingin sot,
+      To blame poor Matthew dare, man,
+    May dool and sorrow be his lot!
+      For Matthew was a rare man.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXIII.
+
+THE FIVE CARLINS.
+
+A SCOTS BALLAD.
+
+Tune--_Chevy Chase._
+
+[This is a local and political Poem composed on the contest between
+Miller, the younger, of Dalswinton, and Johnstone, of Westerhall, for
+the representation of the Dumfries and Galloway district of Boroughs.
+Each town or borough speaks and acts in character: Maggy personates
+Dumfries; Marjory, Lochmaben; Bess of Solway-side, Annan; Whiskey Jean,
+Kirkcudbright; and Black Joan, Sanquhar. On the part of Miller, all
+the Whig interest of the Duke of Queensberry was exerted, and all the
+Tory interest on the side of the Johnstone: the poet's heart was with
+the latter. Annan and Lochmaben stood staunch by old names and old
+affections: after a contest, bitterer than anything of the kind
+remembered, the Whig interest prevailed.]
+
+
+    There were five carlins in the south,
+      They fell upon a scheme,
+    To send a lad to London town,
+      To bring them tidings hame.
+
+    Not only bring them tidings hame,
+      But do their errands there;
+    And aiblins gowd and honour baith
+      Might be that laddie's share.
+
+    There was Maggy by the banks o' Nith,
+      A dame wi' pride eneugh;
+    And Marjory o' the mony lochs,
+      A carlin auld and teugh.
+
+    And blinkin' Bess of Annandale,
+      That dwelt near Solway-side;
+    And whiskey Jean, that took her gill
+      In Galloway sae wide.
+
+    And black Joan, frae Crighton-peel,
+      O' gipsey kith an' kin;--
+    Five wighter carlins were na found
+      The south countrie within.
+
+    To send a lad to London town,
+      They met upon a day;
+    And mony a knight, and mony a laird,
+      This errand fain wad gae.
+
+    O mony a knight, and mony a laird,
+      This errand fain wad gae;
+    But nae ane could their fancy please,
+      O ne'er a ane but twae.
+
+    The first ane was a belted knight,
+      Bred of a border band;
+    And he wad gae to London town,
+      Might nae man him withstand.
+
+    And he wad do their errands weel,
+      And meikle he wad say;
+    And ilka ane about the court
+      Wad bid to him gude-day.
+
+    The neist cam in a sodger youth,
+      And spak wi' modest grace,
+    And he wad gae to London town,
+      If sae their pleasure was.
+
+    He wad na hecht them courtly gifts,
+      Nor meikle speech pretend;
+    But he wad hecht an honest heart,
+      Wad ne'er desert his friend.
+
+    Then wham to chuse, and wham refuse,
+      At strife thir carlins fell;
+    For some had gentlefolks to please,
+      And some wad please themsel'.
+
+    Then out spak mim-mou'd Meg o' Nith,
+      And she spak up wi' pride,
+    And she wad send the sodger youth,
+      Whatever might betide.
+
+    For the auld gudeman o' London court
+      She didna care a pin;
+    But she wad send the sodger youth
+      To greet his eldest son.
+
+    Then slow raise Marjory o' the Lochs
+      And wrinkled was her brow;
+    Her ancient weed was russet gray,
+      Her auld Scotch heart was true.
+
+    "The London court set light by me--
+      I set as light by them;
+    And I wilt send the sodger lad
+      To shaw that court the same."
+
+    Then up sprang Bess of Annandale,
+      And swore a deadly aith,
+    Says, "I will send the border-knight
+      Spite o' you carlins baith.
+
+    "For far-off fowls hae feathers fair,
+      And fools o' change are fain;
+    But I hae try'd this border-knight,
+      I'll try him yet again."
+
+    Then whiskey Jean spak o'er her drink,
+      "Ye weel ken, kimmersa',
+    The auld gudeman o' London court,
+      His back's been at the wa'.
+
+    "And mony a friend that kiss'd his caup,
+      Is now a fremit wight;
+    But it's ne'er be sae wi' whiskey Jean,--
+      We'll send the border-knight."
+
+    Says black Joan o' Crighton-peel,
+      A carlin stoor and grim,--
+    "The auld gudeman, or the young gudeman,
+      For me may sink or swim.
+
+    "For fools will prate o' right and wrang,
+      While knaves laugh in their sleeve;
+    But wha blaws best the horn shall win,
+      I'll spier nae courtier's leave."
+
+    So how this mighty plea may end
+      There's naebody can tell:
+    God grant the king, and ilka man,
+      May look weel to himsel'!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXIV.
+
+THE LADDIES BY THE BANKS O' NITH.
+
+[This short Poem was first published by Robert Chambers. It intimates
+pretty strongly, how much the poet disapproved of the change which
+came over the Duke of Queensberry's opinions, when he supported the
+right of the Prince of Wales to assume the government, without consent
+of Parliament, during the king's alarming illness, in 1788.]
+
+    The laddies by the banks o' Nith,
+      Wad trust his Grace wi' a', Jamie,
+    But he'll sair them, as he sair'd the King,
+      Turn tail and rin awa', Jamie.
+
+    Up and waur them a', Jamie,
+      Up and waur them a';
+    The Johnstones hae the guidin' o't,
+      Ye turncoat Whigs awa'.
+
+    The day he stude his country's friend,
+      Or gied her faes a claw, Jamie:
+    Or frae puir man a blessin' wan,
+      That day the Duke ne'er saw, Jamie.
+
+    But wha is he, his country's boast?
+      Like him there is na twa, Jamie,
+    There's no a callant tents the kye,
+      But kens o' Westerha', Jamie.
+
+    To end the wark here's Whistlebirk,[94]
+      Lang may his whistle blaw, Jamie;
+    And Maxwell true o' sterling blue:
+      And we'll be Johnstones a', Jamie.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 94: Birkwhistle: a Galloway laird, and elector.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXV.
+
+EPISTLE TO ROBERT GRAHAM, ESQ.
+
+OF FINTRAY:
+
+ON THE CLOSE OF THE DISPUTED ELECTION BETWEEN
+
+SIR JAMES JOHNSTONE AND CAPTAIN MILLER, FOR
+
+THE DUMFRIES DISTRICT OF BOROUGHS.
+
+["I am too little a man," said Burns, in the note to Fintray, which
+accompanied this poem, "to have any political attachment: I am deeply
+indebted to, and have the warmest veneration for individuals of both
+parties: but a man who has it in his power to be the father of a
+country, and who acts like his Grace of Queensberry, is a character
+that one cannot speak of with patience." This Epistle was first
+printed in my edition of Burns in 1834: I had the use of the Macmurdo
+and the Afton manuscripts for that purpose: to both families the poet
+was much indebted for many acts of courtesy and kindness.]
+
+
+    Fintray, my stay in worldly strife,
+    Friend o' my muse, friend o' my life,
+                      Are ye as idle's I am?
+    Come then, wi' uncouth, kintra fleg,
+    O'er Pegasus I'll fling my leg,
+                      And ye shall see me try him.
+
+    I'll sing the zeal Drumlanrig bears,
+    Who left the all-important cares
+                      Of princes and their darlings;
+    And, bent on winning borough towns,
+    Came shaking hands wi' wabster lowns,
+                      And kissing barefit carlins.
+
+    Combustion thro' our boroughs rode,
+    Whistling his roaring pack abroad
+                      Of mad unmuzzled lions;
+    As Queensberry buff and blue unfurl'd,
+    And Westerha' and Hopeton hurl'd
+                      To every Whig defiance.
+
+    But cautious Queensberry left the war,
+    Th' unmanner'd dust might soil his star;
+                      Besides, he hated bleeding:
+    But left behind him heroes bright,
+    Heroes in Caesarean fight,
+                      Or Ciceronian pleading.
+
+    O! for a throat like huge Mons-meg,
+    To muster o'er each ardent Whig
+                      Beneath Drumlanrig's banner;
+    Heroes and heroines commix,
+    All in the field of politics,
+                      To win immortal honour.
+
+    M'Murdo[95] and his lovely spouse,
+    (Th' enamour'd laurels kiss her brows!)
+                      Led on the loves and graces:
+    She won each gaping burgess' heart,
+    While he, all-conquering, play'd his part
+                      Among their wives and lasses.
+
+    Craigdarroch[96] led a light-arm'd corps,
+    Tropes, metaphors and figures pour,
+                      Like Hecla streaming thunder:
+    Glenriddel,[97] skill'd in rusty coins,
+    Blew up each Tory's dark designs,
+                      And bar'd the treason under.
+
+    In either wing two champions fought,
+    Redoubted Staig[98] who set at nought
+                      The wildest savage Tory:
+    And Welsh,[99] who ne'er yet flinch'd his ground,
+    High-wav'd his magnum-bonum round
+                      With Cyclopeian fury.
+
+    Miller brought up th' artillery ranks,
+    The many-pounders of the Banks,
+                      Resistless desolation!
+    While Maxwelton, that baron bold,
+    'Mid Lawson's[100] port intrench'd his hold,
+                      And threaten'd worse damnation.
+
+    To these what Tory hosts oppos'd,
+    With these what Tory warriors clos'd.
+                      Surpasses my descriving:
+    Squadrons extended long and large,
+    With furious speed rush to the charge,
+                      Like raging devils driving.
+
+    What verse can sing, what prose narrate,
+    The butcher deeds of bloody fate
+                      Amid this mighty tulzie!
+    Grim Horror grinn'd--pale Terror roar'd,
+    As Murther at his thrapple shor'd,
+                      And hell mix'd in the brulzie.
+
+    As highland craigs by thunder cleft,
+    When lightnings fire the stormy lift,
+                      Hurl down with crashing rattle:
+    As flames among a hundred woods;
+    As headlong foam a hundred floods;
+                      Such is the rage of battle!
+
+    The stubborn Tories dare to die;
+    As soon the rooted oaks would fly
+                      Before the approaching fellers:
+    The Whigs come on like Ocean's roar,
+    When all his wintry billows pour
+                      Against the Buchan Bullers.
+
+    Lo, from the shades of Death's deep night,
+    Departed Whigs enjoy the fight,
+                      And think on former daring:
+    The muffled murtherer[101] of Charles
+    The Magna Charter flag unfurls,
+                      All deadly gules it's bearing.
+
+    Nor wanting ghosts of Tory fame.
+    Bold Scrimgeour[102] follows gallant Graham,[103]
+                      Auld Covenanters shiver.
+    (Forgive, forgive, much-wrong'd Montrose!
+    Now death and hell engulph thy foes,
+                      Thou liv'st on high for ever!)
+
+    Still o'er the field the combat burns,
+    The Tories, Whigs, give way by turns;
+                      But fate the word has spoken:
+    For woman's wit and strength o' man,
+    Alas! can do but what they can!
+                      The Tory ranks are broken.
+
+    O that my een were flowing burns,
+    My voice a lioness that mourns
+                      Her darling cubs' undoing!
+    That I might greet, that I might cry,
+    While Tories fall, while Tories fly,
+                      And furious Whigs pursuing!
+
+    What Whig but melts for good Sir James!
+    Dear to his country by the names
+                      Friend, patron, benefactor!
+    Not Pulteney's wealth can Pulteney save!
+    And Hopeton falls, the generous brave!
+                      And Stewart,[104] bold as Hector.
+
+    Thou, Pitt, shalt rue this overthrow;
+    And Thurlow growl a curse of woe;
+                      And Melville melt in wailing!
+    How Fox and Sheridan rejoice!
+    And Burke shall sing, O Prince, arise,
+                      Thy power is all prevailing!
+
+    For your poor friend, the Bard, afar
+    He only hears and sees the war,
+                      A cool spectator purely;
+    So, when the storm the forests rends,
+    The robin in the hedge descends,
+                      And sober chirps securely.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 95: John M'Murdo, Esq., of Drumlanrig.]
+
+[Footnote 96: Fergusson of Craigdarroch.]
+
+[Footnote 97: Riddel of Friars-Carse.]
+
+[Footnote 98: Provost Staig of Dumfries.]
+
+[Footnote 99: Sheriff Welsh.]
+
+[Footnote 100: A wine merchant in Dumfries.]
+
+[Footnote 101: The executioner of Charles I. was masked.]
+
+[Footnote 102: Scrimgeour, Lord Dundee.]
+
+[Footnote 103: Graham, Marquis of Montrose.]
+
+[Footnote 104: Stewart of Hillside.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXVI.
+
+ON
+
+CAPTAIN GROSE'S
+
+PEREGRINATIONS THROUGH SCOTLAND,
+
+COLLECTING THE
+
+ANTIQUITIES OF THAT KINGDOM.
+
+[This "fine, fat, fodgel wight" was a clever man, a skilful antiquary,
+and fond of wit and wine. He was well acquainted with heraldry, and
+was conversant with the weapons and the armor of his own and other
+countries. He found his way to Friars-Carse, in the Vale of Nith, and
+there, at the social "board of Glenriddel," for the first time saw
+Burns. The Englishman heard, it is said, with wonder, the sarcastic
+sallies and eloquent bursts of the inspired Scot, who, in his turn,
+surveyed with wonder the remarkable corpulence, and listened with
+pleasure to the independent sentiments and humourous turns of
+conversation in the joyous Englishman. This Poem was the fruit of the
+interview, and it is said that Grose regarded some passages as rather
+personal.]
+
+
+    Hear, Land o' Cakes and brither Scots,
+    Frae Maidenkirk to Johnny Groat's;
+    If there's a hole in a' your coats,
+                      I rede you tent it:
+    A chiel's amang you taking notes,
+                      And, faith, he'll prent it!
+
+    If in your bounds ye chance to light
+    Upon a fine, fat, fodgel wight,
+    O' stature short, but genius bright,
+                      That's he, mark weel--
+    And wow! he has an unco slight
+                      O' cauk and keel.
+
+    By some auld, houlet-haunted biggin,
+    Or kirk deserted by its riggin,
+    It's ten to one ye'll find him snug in
+                      Some eldritch part,
+    Wi' deils, they say, L--d save's! colleaguin'
+                      At some black art.
+
+    Ilk ghaist that haunts auld ha' or chaumer,
+    Ye gipsey-gang that deal in glamour,
+    And you deep read in hell's black grammar,
+                      Warlocks and witches;
+    Ye'll quake at his conjuring hammer,
+                      Ye midnight b----s!
+
+    It's tauld he was a sodger bred,
+    And ane wad rather fa'n than fled;
+    But now he's quat the spurtle-blade,
+                      And dog-skin wallet,
+    And ta'en the--Antiquarian trade,
+                      I think they call it.
+
+    He has a fouth o' auld nick-nackets:
+    Rusty airn caps and jinglin' jackets,
+    Wad haud the Lothians three in tackets,
+                      A towmont guid;
+    And parritch-pats, and auld saut-backets,
+                      Afore the flood.
+
+    Of Eve's first fire he has a cinder;
+    Auld Tubal-Cain's fire-shool and fender;
+    That which distinguished the gender
+                      O' Balaam's ass;
+    A broom-stick o' the witch o' Endor,
+                      Weel shod wi' brass.
+
+    Forbye, he'll shape you aff, fu' gleg,
+    The cut of Adam's philibeg:
+    The knife that nicket Abel's craig
+                      He'll prove you fully,
+    It was a faulding jocteleg,
+                      Or lang-kail gully.--
+
+    But wad ye see him in his glee,
+    For meikle glee and fun has he,
+    Then set him down, and twa or three
+                      Guid fellows wi' him;
+    And port, O port! shine thou a wee,
+                      And then ye'll see him!
+
+    Now, by the pow'rs o' verse and prose!
+    Thou art a dainty chiel, O Grose!--
+    Whae'er o' thee shall ill suppose,
+                      They sair misca' thee;
+    I'd take the rascal by the nose,
+                      Wad say, Shame fa' thee!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXVII.
+
+WRITTEN IN A WRAPPER,
+
+ENCLOSING
+
+A LETTER TO CAPTAIN GROSE.
+
+[Burns wrote out some antiquarian and legendary memoranda, respecting
+certain ruins in Kyle, and enclosed them in a sheet of a paper to
+Cardonnel, a northern antiquary. As his mind teemed with poetry he
+could not, as he afterwards said, let the opportunity, pass of sending
+a rhyming inquiry after his fat friend, and Cardonnel spread the
+condoling inquiry over the North--
+
+    "Is he slain by Highlan' bodies?
+    And eaten like a wether-haggis?"]
+
+
+    Ken ye ought o' Captain Grose?
+                      Igo and ago,
+    If he's amang his friends or foes?
+                      Iram, coram, dago.
+
+    Is he south or is he north?
+                      Igo and ago,
+    Or drowned in the river Forth?
+                      Iram, coram, dago.
+
+    Is he slain by Highlan' bodies?
+                      Igo and ago,
+    And eaten like a wether-haggis?
+                      Iram, coram, dago.
+
+    Is he to Abram's bosom gane?
+                      Igo and ago,
+    Or haudin' Sarah by the wame?
+                      Iram, coram, dago.
+
+    Where'er he be, the L--d be near him!
+                      Igo and ago,
+    As for the deil, he daur na steer him!
+                      Iram, coram, dago.
+
+    But please transmit the enclosed letter,
+                      Igo and ago,
+    Which will oblige your humble debtor,
+                      Iram, coram, dago.
+
+    So may he hae auld stanes in store,
+                      Igo and ago,
+    The very stanes that Adam bore,
+                      Iram, coram, dago.
+
+    So may ye get in glad possession,
+                      Igo and ago,
+    The coins o' Satan's coronation!
+                      Iram, coram, dago.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXVIII.
+
+TAM O' SHANTER.
+
+A TALE.
+
+    "Of brownys and of bogilis full is this buke."
+
+GAWIN DOUGLAS
+
+[This is a West-country legend, embellished by genius. No other Poem
+in our language displays such variety of power, in the same number of
+lines. It was written as an inducement to Grose to admit Alloway-Kirk
+into his work on the Antiquities of Scotland; and written with such
+ecstasy, that the poet shed tears in the moments of composition. The
+walk in which it was conceived, on the braes of Ellisland, is held in
+remembrance in the vale, and pointed out to poetic inquirers: while
+the scene where the poem is laid--the crumbling ruins--the place where
+the chapman perished in the snow--the tree on which the poor mother of
+Mungo ended her sorrows--the cairn where the murdered child was found
+by the hunters--and the old bridge over which Maggie bore her
+astonished master when all hell was in pursuit, are first-rate objects
+of inspection and inquiry in the "Land of Burns." "In the inimitable
+tale of Tam o' Shanter," says Scott "Burns has left us sufficient
+evidence of his ability to combine the ludicrous with the awful, and
+even the horrible. No poet, with the exception of Shakspeare, ever
+possessed the power of exciting the most varied and discordant
+emotions with such rapid transitions."]
+
+
+    When chapman billies leave the street,
+    And drouthy neebors neebors meet,
+    As market-days are wearing late,
+    An' folk begin to tak' the gate;
+    While we sit bousing at the nappy,
+    An' gettin' fou and unco happy,
+    We think na on the lang Scots miles,
+    The mosses, waters, slaps, and stiles,
+    That lie between us and our hame,
+    Where sits our sulky sullen dame,
+    Gathering her brows like gathering storm,
+    Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.
+
+    This truth fand honest Tam O' Shanter,
+    As he frae Ayr ae night did canter,
+    (Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a town surpasses,
+    For honest men and bonny lasses.)
+    O Tam! hadst thou but been sae wise,
+    As ta'en thy ain wife Kate's advice!
+    She tauld thee weel thou was a skellum,
+    A blethering, blustering, drunken blellum;
+    That frae November till October,
+    Ae market-day thou wasna sober;
+    That ilka melder, wi' the miller,
+    Thou sat as lang as thou had siller;
+    That ev'ry naig was ca'd a shoe on,
+    The smith and thee gat roaring fou on;
+    That at the Lord's house, ev'n on Sunday,
+    Thou drank wi' Kirton Jean till Monday.
+    She prophesy'd, that late or soon,
+    Thou would be found deep drown'd in Doon;
+    Or catch'd wi' warlocks in the mirk,
+    By Alloway's auld haunted kirk.
+
+    Ah, gentle dames! it gars me greet,
+    To think how mony counsels sweet,
+    How mony lengthen'd sage advices,
+    The husband frae the wife despises!
+    But to our tale:--Ae market night,
+    Tam had got planted unco right;
+    Fast by an ingle bleezing finely,
+    Wi' reaming swats, that drank divinely;
+    And at his elbow, Souter Johnny,
+    His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony;
+    Tam lo'ed him like a vera brither;
+    They had been fou' for weeks thegither!
+    The night drave on wi' sangs an' clatter;
+    And ay the ale was growing better:
+    The landlady and Tam grew gracious;
+    Wi' favors secret, sweet, and precious;
+    The Souter tauld his queerest stories;
+    The landlord's laugh was ready chorus:[105]
+    The storm without might rair and rustle--
+    Tam did na mind the storm a whistle.
+
+    Care, mad to see a man sae happy,
+    E'en drown'd himself amang the nappy!
+    As bees flee hame wi' lades o' treasure,
+    The minutes wing'd their way wi' pleasure:
+    Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious,
+    O'er a' the ills o' life victorious.
+
+    But pleasures are like poppies spread,
+    You seize the flow'r, its bloom is shed;
+    Or like the snow falls in the river,
+    A moment white--then melts for ever;
+    Or like the borealis race,
+    That flit ere you can point their place;
+    Or like the rainbow's lovely form
+    Evanishing amid the storm.
+    Nae man can tether time or tide;
+    The hour approaches Tam maun ride;
+    That hour, o' night's black arch the key-stane,
+    That dreary hour he mounts his beast in;
+    And sic a night he taks the road in
+    As ne'er poor sinner was abroad in.
+
+    The wind blew as 'twad blawn its last;
+    The rattling show'rs rose on the blast;
+    The speedy gleams the darkness swallow'd;
+    Loud, deep, and lang the thunder bellow'd:
+    That night, a child might understand,
+    The de'il had business on his hand.
+
+    Weel mounted on his gray mare, Meg,
+    A better never lifted leg,
+    Tam skelpit on thro' dub and mire,
+    Despising wind, and rain, and fire;
+    Whiles holding fast his guid blue bonnet;
+    Whiles crooning o'er some auld Scots sonnet;
+    Whiles glow'ring round wi' prudent cares,
+    Lest bogles catch him unawares;
+    Kirk-Alloway was drawing nigh,
+    Whare ghaists and houlets nightly cry.--
+
+    By this time he was cross the foord,
+    Whare in the snaw the chapman smoor'd;
+    And past the birks and meikle stane,
+    Where drunken Charlie brak's neck-bane;
+    And thro' the whins, and by the cairn,
+    Where hunters fand the murder'd bairn;
+    And near the thorn, aboon the well,
+    Where Mungo's mither hang'd hersel'.
+    Before him Doon pours all his floods;
+    The doubling storm roars thro' the woods;
+    The lightnings flash from pole to pole;
+    Near and more the thunders roll;
+    When, glimmering thro' the groaning trees,
+    Kirk-Alloway seem'd in a bleeze;
+    Thro' ilka bore the beams were glancing;
+    And loud resounded mirth and dancing.
+
+    Inspiring, bold John Barleycorn!
+    What dangers thou canst make us scorn!
+    Wi' tippenny, we fear nae evil;
+    Wi' usquabae we'll face the devil!
+    The swats sae ream'd in Tammie's noddle,
+    Fair play, he car'd nae deils a boddle.
+    But Maggie stood right sair astonish'd,
+    'Till, by the heel and hand admonish'd,
+    She ventur'd forward on the light;
+    And wow! Tam saw an unco sight!
+    Warlocks and witches in a dance;
+    Nae cotillion brent new frae France,
+    But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels,
+    Put life and mettle in their heels:
+    A winnock-bunker in the east,
+    There sat auld Nick, in shape o' beast;
+    A towzie tyke, black, grim, and large,
+    To gie them music was his charge;
+    He screw'd the pipes and gart them skirl,
+    Till roof and rafters a' did dirl.--
+    Coffins stood round, like open presses;
+    That shaw'd the dead in their last dresses;
+    And by some devilish cantrip slight
+    Each in its cauld hand held a light--
+    By which heroic Tam was able
+    To note upon the haly table,
+    A murderer's banes in gibbet airns;
+    Twa span-lang, wee, unchristen'd bairns;
+    A thief, new-cutted frae a rape,
+    Wi' his last gasp his gab did gape;
+    Five tomahawks, wi' bluid red-rusted;
+    Five scimitars, wi' murder crusted;
+    A garter, which a babe had strangled;
+    A knife, a father's throat had mangled,
+    Whom his ain son o' life bereft,
+    The gray hairs yet stack to the heft:[106]
+    Wi' mair o' horrible and awfu',
+    Which ev'n to name would be unlawfu'.
+
+    As Tammie glowr'd, amaz'd, and curious,
+    The mirth and fun grew fast and furious:
+    The piper loud and louder blew;
+    The dancers quick and quicker flew;
+    They reel'd, they set, they cross'd, they cleekit,
+    'Till ilka carlin swat and reekit,
+    And coost her duddies to the wark,
+    And linket at it in her sark!
+
+    Now Tam, O Tam! had thae been queans
+    A' plump and strapping, in their teens;
+    Their sarks, instead o' creeshie flannen,
+    Been snaw-white seventeen hunder linen,
+    Thir breeks o' mine, my only pair,
+    That ance were plush, o' guid blue hair,
+    I wad hae gi'en them off my hurdies,
+    For ae blink o' the bonnie burdies!
+
+    But wither'd beldams, auld and droll,
+    Rigwoodie hags, wad spean a foal,
+    Lowping an' flinging on a cummock,
+    I wonder didna turn thy stomach.
+
+    But Tam kenn'd what was what fu' brawlie,
+    There was a winsome wench and walie,
+    That night enlisted in the core,
+    (Lang after kenn'd on Carrick shore;
+    For mony a beast to dead she shot,
+    And perish'd mony a bonnie boat,
+    And shook baith meikle corn and bear,
+    And kept the country-side in fear.)
+    Her cutty sark, o' Paisley harn,
+    That, while a lassie, she had worn,
+    In longitude tho' sorely scanty,
+    It was her best, and she was vauntie--
+
+    Ah! little kenn'd the reverend grannie,
+    That sark she coft for her wee Nannie,
+    Wi' twa pund Scots ('twas a' her riches),
+    Wad ever grac'd a dance of witches!
+    But here my muse her wing maun cour;
+    Sic flights are far beyond her pow'r;
+    To sing how Nannie lap and flang,
+    (A souple jade she was and strung,)
+    And how Tam stood, like ane bewitch'd;
+    And thought his very een enrich'd;
+    Even Satan glowr'd, and fidg'd fu' fain,
+    And hotch'd and blew wi' might and main:
+    'Till first ae caper, syne anither,
+    Tam tint his reason a' thegither,
+    And roars out, "Weel done, Cutty-sark!"
+    And in an instant all was dark:
+    And scarcely had he Maggie rallied,
+    When out the hellish legion sallied.
+
+    As bees bizz out wi' angry fyke,
+    When plundering herds assail their byke;
+    As open pussie's mortal foes,
+    When, pop! she starts before their nose;
+    As eager runs the market-crowd,
+    When "Catch the thief!" resounds aloud;
+    So Maggie runs, the witches follow,
+    Wi' mony an eldritch screech and hollow.
+
+    Ah, Tam! Ah, Tam! thou'll get thy fairin'!
+    In hell they'll roast thee like a herrin'!
+    In vain thy Kate awaits thy comin'!
+    Kate soon will be a woefu' woman!
+    Now do thy speedy utmost, Meg,
+    And win the key-stane[107] of the brig;
+    There at them thou thy tail may toss,
+    A running stream they darena cross!
+    But ere the key-stane she could make,
+    The fient a tail she had to shake!
+    For Nannie, far before the rest,
+    Hard upon noble Maggie prest,
+    And flew at Tam wi' furious ettle;
+    But little wist she Maggie's mettle--
+    Ae spring brought off her master hale,
+    But left behind her ain gray tail:
+    The carlin claught her by the rump,
+    And left poor Maggie scarce a stump.
+
+    Now, wha this tale o' truth shall read,
+    Ilk man and mother's son, take heed:
+    Whene'er to drink you are inclin'd,
+    Or cutty-sarks run in your mind,
+    Think! ye may buy the joys o'er dear--
+    Remember Tam O' Shanter's mare.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 105: VARIATION.
+
+    The cricket raised its cheering cry,
+    The kitten chas'd its tail in joy.]
+
+[Footnote 106: VARIATION.
+
+    Three lawyers' tongues turn'd inside out,
+    Wi' lies seem'd like a beggar's clout;
+    And priests' hearts rotten black as muck,
+    Lay stinking vile, in every neuk.]
+
+[Footnote 107: It is a well-known fact that witches, or any evil
+spirits, have no power to follow a poor wight any further than the
+middle of the next running stream. It may be proper likewise to
+mention to the benighted traveller, that when he falls in with
+_bogles_, whatever danger there may be in his going forward, there is
+much more hazard in turning back.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXIX.
+
+ADDRESS OF BEELZEBUB
+
+TO THE
+
+PRESIDENT OF THE HIGHLAND SOCIETY.
+
+[This Poem made its first appearance, as I was assured by my friend
+the late Thomas Pringle, in the Scots Magazine, for February, 1818,
+and was printed from the original in the handwriting of Burns. It was
+headed thus, "To the Right honorable the Earl of Brendalbyne,
+President of the Right Honourable and Honourable the Highland Society,
+which met on the 23d of May last, at the Shakspeare, Covent Garden, to
+concert ways and means to frustrate the designs of four hundred
+Highlanders, who, as the Society were informed by Mr. M. ----, of A----s,
+were so audacious as to attempt an escape from their lawful lairds
+and masters, whose property they were, by emigrating from the lands of
+Mr. Macdonald, of Glengarry, to the wilds of Canada, in search of that
+fantastic thing--LIBERTY." The Poem was communicated by Burns
+to his friend Rankine of Adam Hill, in Ayrshire.]
+
+
+    Long life, my Lord, an' health be yours,
+    Unskaith'd by hunger'd Highland boors;
+    Lord grant mae duddie desperate beggar,
+    Wi' dirk, claymore, or rusty trigger,
+    May twin auld Scotland o' a life
+    She likes--as lambkins like a knife.
+    Faith, you and A----s were right
+    To keep the Highland hounds in sight;
+    I doubt na! they wad bid nae better
+    Than let them ance out owre the water;
+    Then up among the lakes and seas
+    They'll mak' what rules and laws they please;
+    Some daring Hancock, or a Franklin';
+    May set their Highland bluid a ranklin';
+    Some Washington again may head them,
+    Or some Montgomery fearless lead them,
+    Till God knows what may be effected
+    When by such heads and hearts directed--
+    Poor dunghill sons of dirt and mire
+    May to Patrician rights aspire!
+    Nae sage North, now, nor sager Sackville,
+    To watch and premier o'er the pack vile,
+    An' whare will ye get Howes and Clintons
+    To bring them to a right repentance,
+    To cowe the rebel generation,
+    An' save the honour o' the nation?
+    They an' be d----d! what right hae they
+    To meat or sleep, or light o' day?
+    Far less to riches, pow'r, or freedom,
+    But what your lordship likes to gie them?
+
+    But hear, my lord! Glengarry, hear!
+    Your hand's owre light on them, I fear;
+    Your factors, grieves, trustees, and bailies,
+    I canna' say but they do gaylies;
+    They lay aside a' tender mercies,
+    An' tirl the hallions to the birses;
+    Yet while they're only poind't and herriet,
+    They'll keep their stubborn Highland spirit;
+    But smash them! crash them a' to spails!
+    An' rot the dyvors i' the jails!
+    The young dogs, swinge them to the labour;
+    Let wark an' hunger mak' them sober!
+    The hizzies, if they're aughtlins fawsont,
+    Let them in Drury-lane be lesson'd!
+    An' if the wives an' dirty brats
+    E'en thigger at your doors an' yetts,
+    Flaffan wi' duds an' grey wi' beas',
+    Frightin' awa your deuks an' geese,
+    Get out a horsewhip or a jowler,
+    The langest thong, the fiercest growler,
+    An' gar the tattered gypsies pack
+    Wi' a' their bastards on their back!
+    Go on, my Lord! I lang to meet you,
+    An' in my house at hame to greet you;
+    Wi' common lords ye shanna mingle,
+    The benmost neuk beside the ingle,
+    At my right han' assigned your seat
+    'Tween Herod's hip an Polycrate,--
+    Or if you on your station tarrow,
+    Between Almagro and Pizarro,
+    A seat I'm sure ye're weel deservin't;
+    An' till ye come--Your humble rervant,
+
+BEELZEBUB.
+
+_June 1st, Anno Mundi 5790._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXX.
+
+TO
+
+JOHN TAYLOR.
+
+[Burns, it appears, was, in one of his excursions in revenue matters,
+likely to be detained at Wanlockhead: the roads were slippery with
+ice, his mare kept her feet with difficulty, and all the blacksmiths
+of the village were pre-engaged. To Mr. Taylor, a person of influence
+in the place, the poet, in despair, addressed this little Poem,
+begging his interference: Taylor spoke to a smith; the smith flew to
+his tools, sharpened or frosted the shoes, and it is said lived for
+thirty years to boast that he had "never been well paid but ance, and
+that was by a poet, who paid him in money, paid him in drink, and paid
+him in verse."]
+
+
+    With Pegasus upon a day,
+      Apollo weary flying,
+    Through frosty hills the journey lay,
+      On foot the way was plying,
+
+    Poor slip-shod giddy Pegasus
+      Was but a sorry walker;
+    To Vulcan then Apollo goes,
+      To get a frosty calker.
+
+    Obliging Vulcan fell to work,
+      Threw by his coat and bonnet,
+    And did Sol's business in a crack;
+      Sol paid him with a sonnet.
+
+    Ye Vulcan's sons of Wanlockhead,
+      Pity my sad disaster;
+    My Pegasus is poorly shod--
+      I'll pay you like my master.
+
+ROBERT BURNS.
+
+_Ramages_, _3 o'clock_, (_no date._)
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXI.
+
+LAMENT
+
+OF
+
+MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS,
+
+ON THE APPROACH OF SPRING.
+
+[The poet communicated this "Lament" to his friend, Dr. Moore, in
+February, 1791, but it was composed about the close of the preceding
+year, at the request of Lady Winifred Maxwell Constable, of
+Terreagles, the last in direct descent of the noble and ancient house
+of Maxwell, of Nithsdale. Burns expressed himself more than commonly
+pleased with this composition; nor was he unrewarded, for Lady
+Winifred gave him a valuable snuff-box, with the portrait of the
+unfortunate Mary on the lid. The bed still keeps its place in
+Terreagles, on which the queen slept as she was on her way to take
+refuge with her cruel and treacherous cousin, Elizabeth; and a letter
+from her no less unfortunate grandson, Charles the First, calling the
+Maxwells to arm in his cause, is preserved in the family archives.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Now Nature hangs her mantle green
+      On every blooming tree,
+    And spreads her sheets o' daisies white
+      Out o'er the grassy lea:
+    Now Phoebus cheers the crystal streams,
+      And glads the azure skies;
+    But nought can glad the weary wight
+      That fast in durance lies.
+
+II.
+
+    Now lav'rocks wake the merry morn,
+      Aloft on dewy wing;
+    The merle, in his noontide bow'r,
+      Makes woodland echoes ring;
+    The mavis wild wi' mony a note,
+      Sings drowsy day to rest:
+    In love and freedom they rejoice,
+      Wi' care nor thrall opprest.
+
+III.
+
+    Now blooms the lily by the bank,
+      The primrose down the brae;
+    The hawthorn's budding in the glen,
+      And milk-white is the slae;
+    The meanest hind in fair Scotland
+      May rove their sweets amang;
+    But I, the Queen of a' Scotland,
+      Maun lie in prison strang!
+
+IV.
+
+    I was the Queen o' bonnie France,
+      Where happy I hae been;
+    Fu' lightly rase I in the morn,
+      As blythe lay down at e'en:
+    And I'm the sov'reign o' Scotland,
+      And mony a traitor there;
+    Yet here I lie in foreign bands
+      And never-ending care.
+
+V.
+
+    But as for thee, thou false woman!
+      My sister and my fae,
+    Grim vengeance yet shall whet a sword
+      That thro' thy soul shall gae!
+    The weeping blood in woman's breast
+      Was never known to thee;
+    Nor th' balm that draps on wounds of woe
+      Frae woman's pitying e'e.
+
+VI.
+
+    My son! my son! may kinder stars
+      Upon thy fortune shine;
+    And may those pleasures gild thy reign,
+      That ne'er wad blink on mine!
+    God keep thee frae thy mother's faes,
+      Or turn their hearts to thee:
+    And where thou meet'st thy mother's friend
+      Remember him for me!
+
+VII.
+
+    O! soon, to me, may summer suns
+      Nae mair light up the morn!
+    Nae mair, to me, the autumn winds
+      Wave o'er the yellow corn!
+    And in the narrow house o' death
+      Let winter round me rave;
+    And the next flow'rs that deck the spring
+      Bloom on my peaceful grave!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXII.
+
+THE WHISTLE.
+
+["As the authentic prose history," says Burns, "of the 'Whistle' is
+curious, I shall here give it. In the train of Anne of Denmark, when
+she came to Scotland with our James the Sixth, there came over also a
+Danish gentleman of gigantic stature and great prowess, and a
+matchless champion of Bacchus. He had a little ebony whistle, which at
+the commencement of the orgies, he laid on the table, and whoever was
+the last able to blow it, everybody else being disabled by the potency
+of the bottle, was to carry off the whistle as a trophy of victory.
+The Dane produced credentials of his victories, without a single
+defeat, at the courts of Copenhagen, Stockholm, Moscow, Warsaw, and
+several of the petty courts in Germany; and challenged the Scotch
+Bacchanalians to the alternative of trying his prowess, or else of
+acknowledging their inferiority. After man overthrows on the part of
+the Scots, the Dane was encountered by Sir Robert Lawrie, of
+Maxwelton, ancestor of the present worthy baronet of that name; who,
+after three days and three nights' hard contest, left the Scandinavian
+under the table,
+
+    'And blew on the whistle his requiem shrill.'
+
+"Sir Walter, son to Sir Robert before mentioned, afterwards lost the
+whistle to Walter Riddel, of Glenriddel, who had married a sister of
+Sir Walter's.--On Friday, the 16th of October, 1790, at Friars-Carse,
+the whistle was once more contended for, as related in the ballad, by
+the present Sir Robert of Maxwelton; Robert Riddel, Esq., of
+Glenriddel, lineal descendant and representative of Walter Riddel, who
+won the whistle, and in whose family it had continued; and Alexander
+Fergusson, Esq., of Craigdarroch, likewise descended of the great Sir
+Robert; which last gentleman carried off the hard-won honours of the
+field."
+
+The jovial contest took place in the dining-room of Friars-Carse, in
+the presence of the Bard, who drank bottle and bottle about with them,
+and seemed quite disposed to take up the conqueror when the day
+dawned.]
+
+
+    I sing of a whistle, a whistle of worth,
+    I sing of a whistle, the pride of the North,
+    Was brought to the court of our good Scottish king,
+    And long with this whistle all Scotland shall ring.
+
+    Old Loda,[108] still rueing the arm of Fingal,
+    The god of the bottle sends down from his hall--
+    "This whistle's your challenge--to Scotland get o'er,
+    And drink them to hell, Sir! or ne'er see me more!"
+
+    Old poets have sung, and old chronicles tell,
+    What champions ventur'd, what champions fell;
+    The son of great Loda was conqueror still,
+    And blew on his whistle his requiem shrill.
+
+    Till Robert, the Lord of the Cairn and the Scaur,
+    Unmatch'd at the bottle, unconquer'd in war,
+    He drank his poor godship as deep as the sea,
+    No tide of the Baltic e'er drunker than he.
+
+    Thus Robert, victorious, the trophy has gain'd;
+    Which now in his house has for ages remain'd;
+    Till three noble chieftains, and all of his blood,
+    The jovial contest again have renew'd.
+
+    Three joyous good fellows, with hearts clear of flaw;
+    Craigdarroch, so famous for wit, worth, and law;
+    And trusty Glenriddel, so skill'd in old coins;
+    And gallant Sir Robert, deep-read in old wines.
+
+    Craigdarroch began, with a tongue smooth as oil,
+    Desiring Glenriddel to yield up the spoil;
+    Or else he would muster the heads of the clan,
+    And once more, in claret, try which was the man.
+
+    "By the gods of the ancients!" Glenriddel replies,
+    "Before I surrender so glorious a prize,
+    I'll conjure the ghost of the great Rorie More,[109]
+    And bumper his horn with him twenty times o'er."
+
+    Sir Robert, a soldier, no speech would pretend,
+    But he ne'er turn'd his back on his foe--or his friend,
+    Said, toss down the whistle, the prize of the field,
+    And, knee-deep in claret, he'd die or he'd yield.
+
+    To the board of Glenriddel our heroes repair,
+    So noted for drowning of sorrow and care;
+    Bur for wine and for welcome not more known to fame
+    Than the sense, wit, and taste of a sweet lovely dame.
+
+    A bard was selected to witness the fray,
+    And tell future ages the feats of the day;
+    A bard who detested all sadness and spleen,
+    And wish'd that Parnassus a vineyard had been.
+
+    The dinner being over, the claret they ply,
+    And ev'ry new cork is a new spring of joy;
+    In the bands of old friendship and kindred so set,
+    And the bands grew the tighter the more they were wet.
+
+    Gay Pleasure ran riot as bumpers ran o'er;
+    Bright Phoebus ne'er witness'd so joyous a core,
+    And vow'd that to leave them he was quite forlorn,
+    Till Cynthia hinted he'd find them next morn.
+
+    Six bottles a-piece had well wore out the night,
+    When gallant Sir Robert, to finish the fight,
+    Turn'd o'er in one bumper a bottle of red,
+    And swore 'twas the way that their ancestor did.
+
+    Then worthy Glenriddel, so cautions and sage,
+    No longer the warfare, ungodly, would wage;
+    A high-ruling Elder to wallow in wine!
+    He left the foul business to folks less divine.
+
+    The gallant Sir Robert fought hard to the end;
+    But who can with fate and quart-bumpers contend?
+    Though fate said--a hero shall perish in light;
+    So up rose bright Phoebus--and down fell the knight.
+
+    Next up rose our bard, like a prophet in drink;--
+    "Craigdarroch, thou'lt soar when creation shall sink;
+    But if thou would flourish immortal in rhyme,
+    Come--one bottle more--and have at the sublime!
+
+    "Thy line, that have struggled for freedom with Bruce,
+    Shall heroes and patriots ever produce:
+    So thine be the laurel, and mine be the bay;
+    The field thou hast won, by yon bright god of day!"
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 108: See Ossian's Carie-thura.]
+
+[Footnote 109: See Johnson's Tour to the Hebrides]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXIII.
+
+ELEGY
+
+ON
+
+MISS BURNET,
+
+OF MONBODDO.
+
+[This beautiful and accomplished lady, the heavenly Burnet, as Burns
+loved to call her, was daughter to the odd and the elegant, the clever
+and the whimsical Lord Monboddo. "In domestic circumstances," says
+Robert Chambers, "Monboddo was particularly unfortunate. His wife, a
+very beautiful woman, died in child-bed. His son, a promising boy, in
+whose education he took great delight, was likewise snatched from his
+affections by a premature death; and his second daughter, in personal
+loveliness one of the first women of the age, was cut off by
+consumption, when only twenty-five years old." Her name was
+Elizabeth.]
+
+
+    Life ne'er exulted in so rich a prize
+    As Burnet, lovely from her native skies;
+    Nor envious death so triumph'd in a blow,
+    As that which laid th' accomplish'd Burnet low.
+
+    Thy form and mind, sweet maid, can I forget?
+    In richest ore the brightest jewel set!
+    In thee, high Heaven above was truest shown,
+    As by his noblest work, the Godhead best is known.
+
+    In vain ye flaunt in summer's pride, ye groves;
+      Thou crystal streamlet with thy flowery shore,
+    Ye woodland choir that chant your idle loves,
+      Ye cease to charm--Eliza is no more!
+
+    Ye heathy wastes, immix'd with reedy fens;
+      Ye mossy streams, with sedge and rushes stor'd;
+    Ye rugged cliffs, o'erhanging dreary glens,
+      To you I fly, ye with my soul accord.
+
+    Princes, whose cumb'rous pride was all their worth,
+      Shall venal lays their pompous exit hail?
+    And thou, sweet excellence! forsake our earth,
+      And not a muse in honest grief bewail?
+
+    We saw thee shine in youth and beauty's pride,
+      And virtue's light, that beams beyond the spheres;
+    But like the sun eclips'd at morning tide,
+      Thou left'st us darkling in a world of tears.
+
+    The parent's heart that nestled fond in thee,
+      That heart how sunk, a prey to grief and care;
+    So leck'd the woodbine sweet yon aged tree;
+      So from it ravish'd, leaves it bleak and bare.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXIV.
+
+LAMENT
+
+FOR
+
+JAMES, EARL OF GLENCAIRN.
+
+[Burns lamented the death of this kind and accomplished nobleman with
+melancholy sincerity: he moreover named one of his sons for him: he
+went into mourning when he heard of his death, and he sung of his
+merits in a strain not destined soon to lose the place it has taken
+among the verses which record the names of the noble and the generous.
+He died January 30, 1791, in the forty-second year of his age. James
+Cunningham was succeeded in his title by his brother, and with him
+expired, in 1796, the last of a race, whose name is intimately
+connected with the History of Scotland, from the days of Malcolm
+Canmore.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    The wind blew hollow frae the hills,
+      By fits the sun's departing beam
+    Look'd on the fading yellow woods
+      That wav'd o'er Lugar's winding stream:
+    Beneath a craggy steep, a bard,
+      Laden with years and meikle pain,
+    In loud lament bewail'd his lord,
+      Whom death had all untimely ta'en.
+
+II.
+
+    He lean'd him to an ancient aik,
+      Whose trunk was mould'ring down with years;
+    His locks were bleached white with time,
+      His hoary cheek was wet wi' tears;
+    And as he touch'd his trembling harp,
+      And as he tun'd his doleful sang,
+    The winds, lamenting thro' their caves,
+      To echo bore the notes alang.
+
+III.
+
+    "Ye scattered birds that faintly sing,
+      The reliques of the vernal quire!
+    Ye woods that shed on a' the winds
+      The honours of the aged year!
+    A few short months, and glad and gay,
+      Again ye'll charm the ear and e'e;
+    But nocht in all revolving time
+      Can gladness bring again to me.
+
+IV.
+
+    "I am a bending aged tree,
+      That long has stood the wind and rain;
+    But now has come a cruel blast,
+      And my last hold of earth is gane:
+    Nae leaf o' mine shall greet the spring,
+      Nae simmer sun exalt my bloom;
+    But I maun lie before the storm,
+      And ithers plant them in my room.
+
+V.
+
+    "I've seen sae mony changefu' years,
+      On earth I am a stranger grown;
+    I wander in the ways of men,
+      Alike unknowing and unknown:
+    Unheard, unpitied, unrelieved,
+      I bear alane my lade o' care,
+    For silent, low, on beds of dust,
+      Lie a' that would my sorrows share.
+
+VI.
+
+    "And last (the sum of a' my griefs!)
+      My noble master lies in clay;
+    The flow'r amang our barons bold,
+      His country's pride! his country's stay--
+    In weary being now I pine,
+      For a' the life of life is dead,
+    And hope has left my aged ken,
+      On forward wing for ever fled.
+
+VII.
+
+    "Awake thy last sad voice, my harp!
+      The voice of woe and wild despair;
+    Awake! resound thy latest lay--
+      Then sleep in silence evermair!
+    And thou, my last, best, only friend,
+      That fillest an untimely tomb,
+    Accept this tribute from the bard
+      Though brought from fortune's mirkest gloom.
+
+VIII.
+
+    "In poverty's low barren vale
+      Thick mists, obscure, involve me round;
+    Though oft I turn'd the wistful eye,
+      Nae ray of fame was to be found:
+    Thou found'st me, like the morning sun,
+      That melts the fogs in limpid air,
+    The friendless bard and rustic song
+      Became alike thy fostering care.
+
+IX.
+
+    "O! why has worth so short a date?
+      While villains ripen fray with time;
+    Must thou, the noble, gen'rous, great,
+      Fall in bold manhood's hardy prime!
+    Why did I live to see that day?
+      A day to me so full of woe!--
+    O had I met the mortal shaft
+      Which laid my benefactor low.
+
+X.
+
+    "The bridegroom may forget the bride
+      Was made his wedded wife yestreen;
+    The monarch may forget the crown
+      That on his head an hour has been;
+    The mother may forget the child
+      That smiles sae sweetly on her knee;
+    But I'll remember thee, Glencairn,
+      And a' that thou hast done for me!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXV.
+
+LINES
+
+SENT TO
+
+SIR JOHN WHITEFOORD, BART.,
+
+OF WHITEFOORD.
+
+WITH THE FOREGOING POEM.
+
+[Sir John Whitefoord, a name of old standing in Ayrshire, inherited
+the love of his family for literature, and interested himself early in
+the fame and fortunes of Burns.]
+
+
+    Thou, who thy honour as thy God rever'st,
+    Who, save thy mind's reproach, nought earthly fear'st,
+    To thee this votive offering I impart,
+    The tearful tribute of a broken heart.
+    The friend thou valuedst, I, the patron, lov'd;
+    His worth, his honour, all the world approv'd,
+    We'll mourn till we too go as he has gone,
+    And tread the dreary path to that dark world unknown.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXVI.
+
+ADDRESS
+
+TO
+
+THE SHADE OF THOMSON,
+
+ON CROWNING HIS BUST AT EDNAM WITH BAYS.
+
+["Lord Buchan has the pleasure to invite Mr. Burns to make one at the
+coronation of the bust of Thomson, on Ednam Hill, on the 22d of
+September: for which day perhaps his muse may inspire an ode suited to
+the occasion. Suppose Mr. Burns should, leaving the Nith, go across
+the country, and meet the Tweed at the nearest point from his farm,
+and, wandering along the pastoral banks of Thomson's pure parent
+stream, catch inspiration in the devious walk, till he finds Lord
+Buchan sitting on the ruins of Dryburgh. There the Commendator will
+give him a hearty welcome, and try to light his lamp at the pure flame
+of native genius, upon the altar of Caledonian virtue." Such was the
+invitation of the Earl of Buchan to Burns. To request the poet to lay
+down his sickle when his harvest was half reaped, and traverse one of
+the wildest and most untrodden ways in Scotland, for the purpose of
+looking at the fantastic coronation of the bad bust of on excellent
+poet, was worthy of Lord Buchan. The poor bard made answer, that a
+week's absence in the middle of his harvest was a step he durst not
+venture upon--but he sent this Poem.
+
+The poet's manuscript affords the following interesting variations:--
+
+    "While cold-eyed Spring, a virgin coy,
+      Unfolds her verdant mantle sweet,
+    Or pranks the sod in frolic joy,
+      A carpet for her youthful feet:
+
+    "While Summer, with a matron's grace,
+      Walks stately in the cooling shade,
+    And oft delighted loves to trace
+      The progress of the spiky blade:
+
+    "While Autumn, benefactor kind,
+      With age's hoary honours clad,
+    Surveys, with self-approving mind,
+      Each creature on his bounty fed."]
+
+
+    While virgin Spring, by Eden's flood,
+      Unfolds her tender mantle green,
+    Or pranks the sod in frolic mood,
+      Or tunes AEolian strains between:
+
+    While Summer, with a matron grace,
+      Retreats to Dryburgh's cooling shade,
+    Yet oft, delighted, stops to trace
+      The progress of the spiky blade:
+
+    While Autumn, benefactor kind,
+      By Tweed erects his aged head,
+    And sees, with self-approving mind,
+      Each creature on his bounty fed:
+
+    While maniac Winter rages o'er
+      The hills whence classic Yarrow flows,
+    Rousing the turbid torrent's roar,
+      Or sweeping, wild, a waste of snows:
+
+    So long, sweet Poet of the year!
+      Shall bloom that wreath thou well hast won;
+    While Scotia, with exulting tear,
+      Proclaims that Thomson was her son.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXVII.
+
+TO
+
+ROBERT GRAHAM, ESQ.,
+
+OF FINTRAY.
+
+[By this Poem Burns prepared the way for his humble request to be
+removed to a district more moderate in its bounds than one which
+extended over ten country parishes, and exposed him both to fatigue
+and expense. This wish was expressed in prose, and was in due time
+attended to, for Fintray was a gentleman at once kind and
+considerate.]
+
+
+    Late crippl'd of an arm, and now a leg,
+    About to beg a pass for leave to beg:
+    Dull, listless, teas'd, dejected, and deprest,
+    (Nature is adverse to a cripple's rest;)
+    Will generous Graham list to his Poet's wail?
+    (It soothes poor misery, hearkening to her tale,)
+    And hear him curse the light he first survey'd,
+    And doubly curse the luckless rhyming trade?
+
+    Thou, Nature, partial Nature! I arraign;
+    Of thy caprice maternal I complain:
+    The lion and the bull thy care have found,
+    One shakes the forests, and one spurns the ground:
+    Thou giv'st the ass his hide, the snail his shell,
+    Th' envenom'd wasp, victorious, guards his cell;
+    Thy minions, kings, defend, control, devour,
+    In all th' omnipotence of rule and power;
+    Foxes and statesmen, subtile wiles insure;
+    The cit and polecat stink, and are secure;
+    Toads with their poison, doctors with their drug,
+    The priest and hedgehog in their robes are snug;
+    Ev'n silly woman has her warlike arts,
+    Her tongue and eyes, her dreaded spear and darts;--
+    But, oh! thou bitter stepmother and hard,
+    To thy poor fenceless, naked child--the Bard!
+    A thing unteachable in world's skill,
+    And half an idiot too, more helpless still;
+    No heels to bear him from the op'ning dun;
+    No claws to dig, his hated sight to shun;
+    No horns, but those by luckless Hymen worn,
+    And those, alas! not Amalthea's horn:
+    No nerves olfact'ry, Mammon's trusty cur,
+    Clad in rich dullness' comfortable fur;--
+    In naked feeling, and in aching pride,
+    He bears the unbroken blast from every side.
+    Vampyre booksellers drain him to the heart,
+    And scorpion critics cureless venom dart.
+
+    Critics!--appall'd I venture on the name,
+    Those cut-throat bandits in the paths of fame.
+    Bloody dissectors, worse than ten Monroes!
+    He hacks to teach, they mangle to expose.
+
+    His heart by causeless wanton malice wrung,
+    By blockheads' daring into madness stung;
+    His well-won bays, than life itself more dear,
+    By miscreants torn, who ne'er one sprig must wear:
+    Foil'd, bleeding, tortur'd, in the unequal strife,
+    The hapless poet flounders on through life;
+    Till, fled each hope that once his bosom fir'd,
+    And fled each muse that glorious once inspir'd,
+    Low sunk in squalid, unprotected age,
+    Dead, even resentment, for his injur'd page,
+    He heeds or feels no more the ruthless critic's rage!
+
+    So, by some hedge, the gen'rous steed deceas'd,
+    For half-starv'd snarling curs a dainty feast:
+    By toil and famine wore to skin and bone,
+    Lies senseless of each tugging bitch's son.
+
+    O dullness! portion of the truly blest!
+    Calm sheltered haven of eternal rest!
+    Thy sons ne'er madden in the fierce extremes
+    Of fortune's polar frost, or torrid beams.
+    If mantling high she fills the golden cup,
+    With sober selfish ease they sip it up;
+    Conscious the bounteous meed they well deserve,
+    They only wonder "some folks" do not starve.
+    The grave sage hern thus easy picks his frog,
+    And thinks the mallard a sad worthless dog.
+    When disappointment snaps the clue of hope,
+    And thro' disastrous night they darkling grope,
+    With deaf endurance sluggishly they bear,
+    And just conclude that "fools are fortune's care."
+    So, heavy, passive to the tempest's shocks,
+    Strong on the sign-post stands the stupid ox.
+
+    Not so the idle muses' mad-cap train,
+    Not such the workings of their moon-struck brain;
+    In equanimity they never dwell,
+    By turns in soaring heav'n or vaulted hell
+    I dread thee, fate, relentless and severe,
+    With all a poet's, husband's, father's fear!
+    Already one strong hold of hope is lost,
+    Glencairn, the truly noble, lies in dust;
+    (Fled, like the sun eclips'd as noon appears,
+    And left us darkling in a world of tears:)
+    O! hear my ardent, grateful, selfish pray'r!--
+    Fintray, my other stay, long bless and spare!
+    Thro' a long life his hopes and wishes crown;
+    And bright in cloudless skies his sun go down!
+    May bliss domestic smooth his private path;
+    Give energy to life; and soothe his latest breath,
+    With many a filial tear circling the bed of death!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXVIII.
+
+TO
+
+ROBERT GRAHAM, ESQ.,
+
+OF FINTRAY.
+
+ON RECEIVING A FAVOUR.
+
+[Graham of Fintray not only obtained for the poet the appointment in
+Excise, which, while he lived in Edinburgh, he desired, but he also
+removed him, as he wished, to a better district; and when imputations
+were thrown out against his loyalty, he defended him with obstinate
+and successful eloquence. Fintray did all that was done to raise Burns
+out of the toiling humility of his condition, and enable him to serve
+the muse without fear of want.]
+
+
+    I call no goddess to inspire my strains,
+    A fabled muse may suit a bard that feigns;
+    Friend of my life! my ardent spirit burns,
+    And all the tribute of my heart returns,
+    For boons accorded, goodness ever new,
+    The gift still dearer, as the giver, you.
+
+    Thou orb of day! thou other paler light!
+    And all ye many sparkling stars of night;
+    If aught that giver from my mind efface;
+    If I that giver's bounty e'er disgrace;
+    Then roll to me, along your wandering spheres,
+    Only to number out a villain's years!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXIX.
+
+A VISION.
+
+[This Vision of Liberty descended on Burns among the magnificent ruins
+of the College of Lincluden, which stand on the junction of the Cluden
+and the Nith, a short mile above Dumfries. He gave us the Vision;
+perhaps, he dared not in those yeasty times venture on the song, which
+his secret visitant poured from her lips. The scene is chiefly copied
+from nature: the swellings of the Nith, the howling of the fox on the
+hill, and the cry of the owl, unite at times with the natural beauty
+of the spot, and give it life and voice. These ruins were a favourite
+haunt of the poet.]
+
+
+    As I stood by yon roofless tower,
+      Where the wa'-flower scents the dewy air,
+    Where th' howlet mourns in her ivy bower
+      And tells the midnight moon her care;
+
+    The winds were laid, the air was still,
+      The Stars they shot along the sky;
+    The fox was howling on the hill,
+      And the distant echoing glens reply.
+
+    The stream, adown its hazelly path,
+      Was rushing by the ruin'd wa's,
+    Hasting to join the sweeping Nith,[109A]
+      Whose distant roaring swells and fa's.
+
+    The cauld blue north was streaming forth
+      Her lights, wi' hissing eerie din;
+    Athort the lift they start and shift,
+      Like fortune's favours, tint as win.
+
+    By heedless chance I turn'd mine eyes,
+      And, by the moon-beam, shook to see
+    A stern and stalwart ghaist arise,
+      Attir'd as minstrels wont to be.[109B]
+
+    Had I a statue been o' stane,
+      His darin' look had daunted me;
+    And on his bonnet grav'd was plain,
+      The sacred posy--'Libertie!'
+
+    And frae his harp sic strains did flow,
+      Might rous'd the slumb'ring dead to hear;
+    But, oh! it was a tale of woe,
+      As ever met a Briton's ear.
+
+    He sang wi' joy the former day,
+      He weeping wail'd his latter times;
+    But what he said it was nae play,--
+      I winna ventur't in my rhymes.
+
+[Footnote 109A: VARIATIONS.
+
+    To join yon river on the Strath.]
+
+[Footnote 109B: VARIATIONS.
+
+    Now looking over firth and fauld,
+      Her horn the pale-fac'd Cynthia rear'd;
+    When, lo, in form of minstrel auld,
+      A storm and stalwart ghaist appear'd.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXX.
+
+TO
+
+JOHN MAXWELL OF TERRAUGHTY,
+
+ON HIS BIRTHDAY.
+
+[John Maxwell of Terraughty and Munshes, to whom these verses are
+addressed, though descended from the Earls of Nithsdale, cared little
+about lineage, and claimed merit only from a judgment sound and
+clear--a knowledge of business which penetrated into all the concerns
+of life, and a skill in handling the most difficult subjects, which
+was considered unrivalled. Under an austere manner, he hid much
+kindness of heart, and was in a fair way of doing an act of gentleness
+when giving a refusal. He loved to meet Burns: not that he either
+cared for or comprehended poetry; but he was pleased with his
+knowledge of human nature, and with the keen and piercing remarks in
+which he indulged. He was seventy-one years old when these verses were
+written, and survived the poet twenty years.]
+
+
+    Health to the Maxwell's vet'ran chief!
+    Health, ay unsour'd by care or grief:
+    Inspir'd, I turn'd Fate's sybil leaf
+                      This natal morn;
+    I see thy life is stuff o' prief,
+                      Scarce quite half worn.
+
+    This day thou metes three score eleven,
+    And I can tell that bounteous Heaven
+    (The second sight, ye ken, is given
+                      To ilka Poet)
+    On thee a tack o' seven times seven
+                      Will yet bestow it.
+
+    If envious buckies view wi' sorrow
+    Thy lengthen'd days on this blest morrow,
+    May desolation's lang teeth'd harrow,
+                      Nine miles an hour,
+    Rake them like Sodom and Gomorrah,
+                      In brunstane stoure--
+
+    But for thy friends, and they are mony,
+    Baith honest men and lasses bonnie,
+    May couthie fortune, kind and cannie,
+                      In social glee,
+    Wi' mornings blythe and e'enings funny
+                      Bless them and thee!
+
+    Fareweel, auld birkie! Lord be near ye,
+    And then the Deil he daur na steer ye;
+    Your friends ay love, your faes ay fear ye;
+                      For me, shame fa' me,
+    If neist my heart I dinna wear ye
+                      While BURNS they ca' me!
+
+_Dumfries, 18 Feb. 1792._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXXI.
+
+THE RIGHTS OF WOMAN.
+
+AN OCCASIONAL ADDRESS SPOKEN BY MISS FONTENELLE
+
+ON HER BENEFIT NIGHT,
+
+Nov. 26, 1792.
+
+[Miss Fontenelle was one of the actresses whom Williamson, the
+manager, brought for several seasons to Dumfries: she was young and
+pretty, indulged in little levities of speech, and rumour added,
+perhaps maliciously, levities of action. The Rights of Man had been
+advocated by Paine, the Rights of Woman by Mary Wolstonecroft, and
+nought was talked of, but the moral and political regeneration of the
+world. The line
+
+    "But truce with kings and truce with constitutions,"
+
+got an uncivil twist in recitation, from some of the audience. The
+words were eagerly caught up, and had some hisses bestowed on them.]
+
+
+    While Europe's eye is fix'd on mighty things,
+    The fate of empires and the fall of kings;
+    While quacks of state must each produce his plan,
+    And even children lisp the Rights of Man;
+    Amid this mighty fuss just let me mention,
+    The Rights of Woman merit some attention.
+
+    First on the sexes' intermix'd connexion,
+    One sacred Right of Woman is protection.
+    The tender flower that lifts its head, elate,
+    Helpless, must fall before the blasts of fate,
+    Sunk on the earth, defac'd its lovely form,
+    Unless your shelter ward th' impending storm.
+
+    Our second Right--but needless here is caution,
+    To keep that right inviolate's the fashion,
+    Each man of sense has it so full before him,
+    He'd die before he'd wrong it--'tis decorum.--
+    There was, indeed, in far less polish'd days,
+    A time, when rough, rude man had haughty ways;
+    Would swagger, swear, get drunk, kick up a riot,
+    Nay, even thus invade a lady's quiet.
+
+    Now, thank our stars! these Gothic times are fled;
+    Now, well-bred men--and you are all well-bred--
+    Most justly think (and we are much the gainers)
+    Such conduct neither spirit, wit, nor manners.
+
+    For Right the third, our last, our best, our dearest,
+    That right to fluttering female hearts the nearest,
+    Which even the Rights of Kings in low prostration
+    Most humbly own--'tis dear, dear admiration!
+    In that blest sphere alone we live and move;
+    There taste that life of life--immortal love.--
+    Smiles, glances, sighs, tears, fits, flirtations, airs,
+    'Gainst such an host what flinty savage dares--
+    When awful Beauty joins with all her charms,
+    Who is so rash as rise in rebel arms?
+
+    But truce with kings and truce with constitutions,
+    With bloody armaments and revolutions,
+    Let majesty your first attention summon,
+    Ah! ca ira! the majesty of woman!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXXII.
+
+MONODY,
+
+ON A LADY FAMED FOR HER CAPRICE.
+
+[The heroine Of this rough lampoon was Mrs. Riddel of Woodleigh Park:
+a lady young and gay, much of a wit, and something of a poetess, and
+till the hour of his death the friend of Burns himself. She pulled his
+displeasure on her, it is said, by smiling more sweetly than he liked
+on some "epauletted coxcombs," for so he sometimes designated
+commissioned officers: the lady soon laughed him out of his mood. We
+owe to her pen an account of her last interview with the poet, written
+with great beauty and feeling.]
+
+
+    How cold is that bosom which folly once fired,
+      How pale is that cheek where the rouge lately glisten'd!
+    How silent that tongue which the echoes oft tired,
+      How dull is that ear which to flattery so listen'd!
+
+    If sorrow and anguish their exit await,
+      From friendship and dearest affection remov'd;
+    How doubly severer, Maria, thy fate,
+      Thou diest unwept as thou livedst unlov'd.
+
+    Loves, Graces, and Virtues, I call not on you;
+      So shy, grave, and distant, ye shed not a tear:
+    But come, all ye offspring of Folly so true,
+      And flowers let us cull for Maria's cold bier.
+
+    We'll search through the garden for each silly flower,
+      We'll roam through the forest for each idle weed;
+    But chiefly the nettle, so typical, shower,
+      For none e'er approach'd her but rued the rash deed.
+
+    We'll sculpture the marble, we'll measure the lay;
+      Here Vanity strums on her idiot lyre;
+    There keen indignation shall dart on her prey,
+      Which spurning Contempt shall redeem from his ire.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE EPITAPH.
+
+    Here lies, now a prey to insulting neglect,
+      What once was a butterfly, gay in life's beam:
+    Want only of wisdom denied her respect,
+      Want only of goodness denied her esteem
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXXIII.
+
+EPISTLE
+
+FROM
+
+ESOPUS TO MARIA.
+
+[Williamson, the actor, Colonel Macdouall, Captain Gillespie, and Mrs.
+Riddel, are the characters which pass over the stage in this strange
+composition: it is printed from the Poet's own manuscript, and seems a
+sort of outpouring of wrath and contempt, on persons who, in his eyes,
+gave themselves airs beyond their condition, or their merits. The
+verse of the lady is held up to contempt and laughter: the satirist
+celebrates her
+
+    "Motley foundling fancies, stolen or strayed;"
+
+and has a passing hit at her
+
+    "Still matchless tongue that conquers all reply."]
+
+
+    From those drear solitudes and frowsy cells,
+    Where infamy with sad repentance dwells;
+    Where turnkeys make the jealous portal fast,
+    And deal from iron hands the spare repast;
+    Where truant 'prentices, yet young in sin,
+    Blush at the curious stranger peeping in;
+    Where strumpets, relics of the drunken roar,
+    Resolve to drink, nay, half to whore, no more;
+    Where tiny thieves not destin'd yet to swing,
+    Beat hemp for others, riper for the string:
+    From these dire scenes my wretched lines I date,
+    To tell Maria her Esopus' fate.
+
+    "Alas! I feel I am no actor here!"
+    'Tis real hangmen, real scourges bear!
+    Prepare, Maria, for a horrid tale
+    Will turn thy very rouge to deadly pale;
+    Will make they hair, tho' erst from gipsy polled,
+    By barber woven, and by barber sold,
+    Though twisted smooth with Harry's nicest care,
+    Like hoary bristles to erect and stare.
+    The hero of the mimic scene, no more
+    I start in Hamlet, in Othello roar;
+    Or haughty Chieftain, 'mid the din of arms,
+    In Highland bonnet woo Malvina's charms;
+    While sans culottes stoop up the mountain high,
+    And steal from me Maria's prying eye.
+    Blest Highland bonnet! Once my proudest dress,
+    Now prouder still, Maria's temples press.
+    I see her wave thy towering plumes afar,
+    And call each coxcomb to the wordy war.
+    I see her face the first of Ireland's sons,[110]
+    And even out-Irish his Hibernian bronze;
+    The crafty colonel[111] leaves the tartan'd lines,
+    For other wars, where he a hero shines;
+    The hopeful youth, in Scottish senate bred,
+    Who owns a Bushby's heart without the head;
+    Comes, 'mid a string of coxcombs to display
+    That veni, vidi, vici, is his way;
+    The shrinking bard adown the alley skulks,
+    And dreads a meeting worse than Woolwich hulks;
+    Though there, his heresies in church and state
+    Might well award him Muir and Palmer's fate:
+    Still she undaunted reels and rattles on,
+    And dares the public like a noontide sun.
+    (What scandal call'd Maria's janty stagger
+    The ricket reeling of a crooked swagger,
+    Whose spleen e'en worse than Burns' venom when
+    He dips in gall unmix'd his eager pen,--
+    And pours his vengeance in the burning line,
+    Who christen'd thus Maria's lyre divine;
+    The idiot strum of vanity bemused,
+    And even th' abuse of poesy abused!
+    Who call'd her verse, a parish workhouse made
+    For motley foundling fancies, stolen or stray'd?)
+
+    A workhouse! ah, that sound awakes my woes,
+    And pillows on the thorn my rack'd repose!
+    In durance vile here must I wake and weep,
+    And all my frowsy couch in sorrow steep;
+    That straw where many a rogue has lain of yore,
+    And vermin'd gipsies litter'd heretofore.
+
+    Why, Lonsdale, thus thy wrath on vagrants pour?
+    Must earth no rascal save thyself endure?
+    Must thou alone in guilt immortal swell,
+    And make a vast monopoly of hell?
+    Thou know'st, the virtues cannot hate thee worse,
+    The vices also, must they club their curse?
+    Or must no tiny sin to others fall,
+    Because thy guilt's supreme enough for all?
+
+    Maria, send me too thy griefs and cares;
+    In all of thee sure thy Esopus shares.
+    As thou at all mankind the flag unfurls,
+    Who on my fair one satire's vengeance hurls?
+    Who calls thee, pert, affected, vain coquette,
+    A wit in folly, and a fool in wit?
+    Who says, that fool alone is not thy due,
+    And quotes thy treacheries to prove it true?
+    Our force united on thy foes we'll turn,
+    And dare the war with all of woman born:
+    For who can write and speak as thou and I?
+    My periods that deciphering defy,
+    And thy still matchless tongue that conquers all reply.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 110: Captain Gillespie.]
+
+[Footnote 111: Col. Macdouall.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXXIV.
+
+POEM
+
+ON PASTORAL POETRY.
+
+[Though Gilbert Burns says there is some doubt of this Poem being by
+his brother, and though Robert Chambers declares that he "has scarcely
+a doubt that it is not by the Ayrshire Bard," I must print it as his,
+for I have no doubt on the subject. It was found among the papers of
+the poet, in his own handwriting: the second, the fourth, and the
+concluding verses bear the Burns' stamp, which no one has been
+successful in counterfeiting: they resemble the verses of Beattie, to
+which Chambers has compared them, as little as the cry of the eagle
+resembles the chirp of the wren.]
+
+
+    Hail Poesie! thou Nymph reserv'd!
+    In chase o' thee, what crowds hae swerv'd
+    Frae common sense, or sunk enerv'd
+                      'Mang heaps o' clavers;
+    And och! o'er aft thy joes hae starv'd
+                      Mid a' thy favours!
+
+    Say, Lassie, why thy train amang,
+    While loud the trump's heroic clang,
+    And sock or buskin skelp alang,
+                      To death or marriage;
+    Scarce ane has tried the shepherd-sang
+                      But wi' miscarriage?
+
+    In Homer's craft Jock Milton thrives;
+    Eschylus' pen Will Shakspeare drives;
+    Wee Pope, the knurlin, 'till him rives
+                      Horatian fame;
+    In thy sweet sang, Barbauld, survives
+                      Even Sappho's flame.
+
+    But thee, Theocritus, wha matches?
+    They're no herd's ballats, Maro's catches;
+    Squire Pope but busks his skinklin patches
+                      O' heathen tatters;
+    I pass by hunders, nameless wretches,
+                      That ape their betters.
+
+    In this braw age o' wit and lear,
+    Will nane the Shepherd's whistle mair
+    Blaw sweetly in its native air
+                      And rural grace;
+    And wi' the far-fam'd Grecian share
+                      A rival place?
+
+    Yes! there is ane; a Scottish callan--
+    There's ane; come forrit, honest Allan!
+    Thou need na jouk behint the hallan,
+                      A chiel sae clever;
+    The teeth o' time may gnaw Tantallan,
+                      But thou's for ever!
+
+    Thou paints auld nature to the nines,
+    In thy sweet Caledonian lines;
+    Nae gowden stream thro' myrtles twines,
+                      Where Philomel,
+    While nightly breezes sweep the vines,
+                      Her griefs will tell!
+
+    In gowany glens thy burnie strays,
+    Where bonnie lasses bleach their claes;
+    Or trots by hazelly shaws and braes,
+                      Wi' hawthorns gray,
+    Where blackbirds join the shepherd's lays
+                      At close o' day.
+
+    Thy rural loves are nature's sel';
+    Nae bombast spates o' nonsense swell;
+    Nae snap conceits, but that sweet spell
+                      O' witchin' love;
+    That charm that can the strongest quell,
+                      The sternest move.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXXV.
+
+SONNET,
+
+WRITTEN ON THE TWENTY-FIFTH OF JANUARY, 1793,
+
+THE BIRTHDAY OF THE AUTHOR, ON HEARING A
+
+THRUSH SING IN A MORNING WALK.
+
+[Burns was fond of a saunter in a leafless wood, when the winter storm
+howled among the branches. These characteristic lines were composed on
+the morning of his birthday, with the Nith at his feet, and the ruins
+of Lincluden at his side: he is willing to accept the unlooked-for
+song of the thrush as a fortunate omen.]
+
+
+    Sing on, sweet thrush, upon the leafless bough,
+      Sing on, sweet bird, I listen to thy strain:
+      See, aged Winter, 'mid his surly reign,
+    At thy blythe carol clears his furrow'd brow.
+
+    So, in lone Poverty's dominion drear,
+      Sits meek Content with light unanxious heart,
+      Welcomes the rapid moments, bids them part,
+    Nor asks if they bring aught to hope or fear.
+
+    I thank Thee, Author of this opening day!
+      Thou whose bright sun now gilds yon orient skies!
+      Riches denied, Thy boon was purer joys,
+    What wealth could never give nor take away.
+
+    Yet come, thou child of poverty and care,
+    The mite high Heaven bestow'd, that mite with thee I'll share.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXXVI.
+
+SONNET,
+
+ON THE
+
+DEATH OF ROBERT RIDDEL, ESQ.
+
+OF GLENRIDDEL,
+
+APRIL, 1794.
+
+[The death of Glencairn, who was his patron, and the death of
+Glenriddel, who was his friend, and had, while he lived at Ellisland,
+been his neighbor, weighed hard on the mind of Burns, who, about this
+time, began to regard his own future fortune with more of dismay than
+of hope. Riddel united antiquarian pursuits with those of literature,
+and experienced all the vulgar prejudices entertained by the peasantry
+against those who indulge in such researches. His collection of what
+the rustics of the vale called "queer quairns and swine-troughs," is
+now scattered or neglected: I have heard a competent judge say, that
+they threw light on both the public and domestic history of Scotland.]
+
+
+    No more, ye warblers of the wood--no more!
+      Nor pour your descant, grating, on my soul;
+      Thou young-eyed Spring, gay in thy verdant stole,
+    More welcome were to me grim Winter's wildest roar.
+
+    How can ye charm, ye flow'rs, with all your dyes?
+      Ye blow upon the sod that wraps my friend:
+      How can I to the tuneful strain attend?
+    That strain flows round th' untimely tomb where Riddel lies.
+
+    Yes, pour, ye warblers, pour the notes of woe!
+      And soothe the Virtues weeping on this bier:
+      The Man of Worth, who has not left his peer,
+    Is in his "narrow house" for ever darkly low.
+
+    Thee, Spring, again with joy shall others greet,
+    Me, mem'ry of my loss will only meet.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXXVII.
+
+IMPROMPTU,
+
+ON MRS. R----'S BIRTHDAY.
+
+[By compliments such as these lines contain, Burns soothed the smart
+which his verses "On a lady famed for her caprice" inflicted on the
+accomplished Mrs. Riddel.]
+
+
+    Old Winter, with his frosty beard,
+    Thus once to Jove his prayer preferr'd,--
+    What have I done of all the year,
+    To bear this hated doom severe?
+    My cheerless suns no pleasure know;
+    Night's horrid car drags, dreary, slow:
+    My dismal months no joys are crowning,
+    But spleeny English, hanging, drowning.
+
+    Now, Jove, for once be mighty civil,
+    To counterbalance all this evil;
+    Give me, and I've no more to say,
+    Give me Maria's natal day!
+    That brilliant gift shall so enrich me,
+    Spring, Summer, Autumn, cannot match me;
+    'Tis done! says Jove; so ends my story,
+    And Winter once rejoiced in glory.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXXVIII.
+
+LIBERTY.
+
+A FRAGMENT.
+
+[Fragment of verse were numerous, Dr. Currie said, among the loose
+papers of the poet. These lines formed the commencement of an ode
+commemorating the achievement of liberty for America under the
+directing genius of Washington and Franklin.]
+
+
+    Thee, Caledonia, thy wild heaths among,
+    Thee, fam'd for martial deed and sacred song,
+      To thee I turn with swimming eyes;
+    Where is that soul of freedom fled?
+    Immingled with the mighty dead!
+      Beneath the hallow'd turf where Wallace lies!
+    Hear it not, Wallace, in thy bed of death!
+      Ye babbling winds, in silence sweep;
+      Disturb not ye the hero's sleep,
+    Nor give the coward secret breath.
+      Is this the power in freedom's war,
+      That wont to bid the battle rage?
+    Behold that eye which shot immortal hate,
+      Crushing the despot's proudest bearing!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXXIX.
+
+VERSES
+
+TO A YOUNG LADY.
+
+[This young lady was the daughter of the poet's friend, Graham of
+Fintray; and the gift alluded to was a copy of George Thomson's
+Select Scottish Songs: a work which owes many attractions to the lyric
+genius of Burns.]
+
+
+    Here, where the Scottish muse immortal lives,
+      In sacred strains and tuneful numbers join'd,
+    Accept the gift;--tho' humble he who gives,
+      Rich is the tribute of the grateful mind.
+
+    So may no ruffian feeling in thy breast,
+      Discordant jar thy bosom-chords among;
+    But peace attune thy gentle soul to rest,
+      Or love ecstatic wake his seraph song.
+
+    Or pity's notes in luxury of tears,
+      As modest want the tale of woe reveals;
+    While conscious virtue all the strain endears,
+      And heaven-born piety her sanction seals.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXL.
+
+THE VOWELS.
+
+A TALE.
+
+[Burns admired genius adorned by learning; but mere learning without
+genius he always regarded as pedantry. Those critics who scrupled too
+much about words he called eunuchs of literature, and to one, who
+taxed him with writing obscure language in questionable grammar, he
+said, "Thou art but a Gretna-green match-maker between vowels and
+consonants!"]
+
+
+    'Twas where the birch and sounding thong are ply'd,
+    The noisy domicile of pedant pride;
+    Where ignorance her darkening vapour throws,
+    And cruelty directs the thickening blows;
+    upon a time, Sir Abece the great,
+    In all his pedagogic powers elate,
+    His awful chair of state resolves to mount,
+    And call the trembling vowels to account.--
+
+    First enter'd A, a grave, broad, solemn wight,
+    But, ah! deform'd, dishonest to the sight!
+    His twisted head look'd backward on the way,
+    And flagrant from the scourge he grunted, _ai!_
+
+    Reluctant, E stalk'd in; with piteous race
+    The justling tears ran down his honest face!
+    That name! that well-worn name, and all his own,
+    Pale he surrenders at the tyrant's throne!
+    The pedant stifles keen the Roman sound
+    Not all his mongrel diphthongs can compound;
+    And next the title following close behind,
+    He to the nameless, ghastly wretch assign'd.
+
+    The cobweb'd gothic dome resounded Y!
+    In sullen vengeance, I, disdain'd reply:
+    The pedant swung his felon cudgel round,
+    And knock'd the groaning vowel to the ground!
+
+    In rueful apprehension enter'd O,
+    The wailing minstrel of despairing woe;
+    Th' Inquisitor of Spain the most expert
+    Might there have learnt new mysteries of his art;
+    So grim, deform'd, with horrors entering U,
+    His dearest friend and brother scarcely knew!
+
+    As trembling U stood staring all aghast,
+    The pedant in his left hand clutched him fast,
+    In helpless infants' tears he dipp'd his right,
+    Baptiz'd him _eu_, and kick'd him from his sight.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXLI.
+
+VERSES
+
+TO JOHN RANKINE.
+
+[With the "rough, rude, ready-witted Rankine," of Adamhill, in
+Ayrshire, Burns kept up a will o'-wispish sort of a correspondence in
+rhyme, till the day of his death: these communications, of which this
+is one, were sometimes graceless, but always witty. It is supposed,
+that those lines were suggested by Falstaff's account of his ragged
+recruits:--
+
+    "I'll not march through Coventry with them, that's flat!"]
+
+
+    Ae day, as Death, that grusome carl,
+    Was driving to the tither warl'
+    A mixtie-maxtie motley squad,
+    And mony a guilt-bespotted lad;
+    Black gowns of each denomination,
+    And thieves of every rank and station,
+    From him that wears the star and garter,
+    To him that wintles in a halter:
+    Asham'd himsel' to see the wretches,
+    He mutters, glowrin' at the bitches,
+    "By G--d, I'll not be seen behint them,
+    Nor 'mang the sp'ritual core present them,
+    Without, at least, ae honest man,
+    To grace this d--d infernal clan."
+    By Adamhill a glance he threw,
+    "L--d G--d!" quoth he, "I have it now,
+    There's just the man I want, i' faith!"
+    And quickly stoppit Rankine's breath.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXLII.
+
+ON SENSIBILITY.
+
+TO
+
+MY DEAR AND MUCH HONOURED FRIEND, MRS. DUNLOP,
+
+OF DUNLOP.
+
+[These verses were occasioned, it is said, by some sentiments
+contained in a communication from Mrs. Dunlop. That excellent lady was
+sorely tried with domestic afflictions for a time, and to these he
+appears to allude; but he deadened the effect of his sympathy, when he
+printed the stanzas in the Museum, changing the fourth line to,
+
+    "Dearest Nancy, thou canst tell!"
+
+and so transferring the whole to another heroine.]
+
+
+    Sensibility how charming,
+      Thou, my friend, canst truly tell:
+    But distress with horrors arming,
+      Thou host also known too well.
+
+    Fairest flower, behold the lily,
+      Blooming in the sunny ray:
+    Let the blast sweep o'er the valley,
+      See it prostrate on the clay.
+
+    Hear the woodlark charm the forest,
+      Telling o'er his little joys:
+    Hapless bird! a prey the surest,
+      To each pirate of the skies.
+
+    Dearly bought, the hidden treasure,
+      Finer feeling can bestow;
+    Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure,
+      Thrill the deepest notes of woe.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXLIII.
+
+LINES,
+
+SENT TO A GENTLEMAN WHOM HE HAD
+
+OFFENDED.
+
+[The too hospitable board of Mrs. Riddel occasioned these repentant
+strains: they were accepted as they were meant by the party. The poet
+had, it seems, not only spoken of mere titles and rank with
+disrespect, but had allowed his tongue unbridled license of speech, on
+the claim of political importance, and domestic equality, which Mary
+Wolstonecroft and her followers patronized, at which Mrs. Riddel
+affected to be grievously offended.]
+
+
+    The friend whom wild from wisdom's way,
+      The fumes of wine infuriate send;
+    (Not moony madness more astray;)
+      Who but deplores that hapless friend?
+
+    Mine was th' insensate frenzied part,
+      Ah, why should I such scenes outlive
+    Scenes so abhorrent to my heart!
+      'Tis thine to pity and forgive.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXLIV.
+
+ADDRESS,
+
+SPOKEN BY MISS FONTENELLE ON HER BENEFIT
+
+NIGHT.
+
+[This address was spoken by Miss Fontenelle, at the Dumfries theatre,
+on the 4th of December, 1795.]
+
+
+    Still anxious to secure your partial favour,
+    And not less anxious, sure, this night than ever,
+    A Prologue, Epilogue, or some such matter,
+    'Twould vamp my bill, said I, if nothing better;
+    So sought a Poet, roosted near the skies,
+    Told him I came to feast my curious eyes;
+    Said nothing like his works was ever printed;
+    And last, my Prologue-business slyly hinted!
+    "Ma'am, let me tell you," quoth my man of rhymes,
+    "I know your bent--these are no laughing times:
+    Can you--but, Miss, I own I have my fears,
+    Dissolve in pause--and sentimental tears;
+    With laden sighs, and solemn-rounded sentence,
+    Rouse from his sluggish slumbers, fell Repentance;
+    Paint Vengeance as he takes his horrid stand,
+    Waving on high the desolating brand,
+    Calling the storms to bear him o'er a guilty land?"
+
+    I could no more--askance the creature eyeing,
+    D'ye think, said I, this face was made for crying?
+    I'll laugh, that's poz--nay more, the world shall know it;
+    And so your servant: gloomy Master Poet!
+    Firm as my creed, Sirs, 'tis my fix'd belief,
+    That Misery's another word for Grief;
+    I also think--so may I be a bride!
+    That so much laughter, so much life enjoy'd.
+
+    Thou man of crazy care and ceaseless sigh,
+    Still under bleak Misfortune's blasting eye;
+    Doom'd to that sorest task of man alive--
+    To make three guineas do the work of five:
+    Laugh in Misfortune's face--the beldam witch!
+    Say, you'll be merry, tho' you can't be rich.
+
+    Thou other man of care, the wretch in love,
+    Who long with jiltish arts and airs hast strove;
+    Who, us the boughs all temptingly project,
+    Measur'st in desperate thought--a rope--thy neck--
+    Or, where the beetling cliff o'erhangs the deep,
+    Peerest to meditate the healing leap:
+    Would'st thou be cur'd, thou silly, moping elf?
+    Laugh at their follies--laugh e'en at thyself:
+    Learn to despise those frowns now so terrific,
+    And love a kinder--that's your grand specific.
+
+    To sum up all, be merry, I advise;
+    And as we're merry, may we still be wise.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXLV.
+
+ON
+
+SEEING MISS FONTENELLE
+
+IN A FAVOURITE CHARACTER.
+
+[The good looks and the natural acting of Miss Fontenelle pleased
+others as well as Burns. I know not to what character in the range of
+her personations he alludes: she was a favourite on the Dumfries
+boards.]
+
+
+    Sweet naivete of feature,
+      Simple, wild, enchanting elf,
+    Not to thee, but thanks to nature,
+      Thou art acting but thyself.
+
+    Wert thou awkward, stiff, affected,
+      Spurning nature, torturing art;
+    Loves and graces all rejected,
+      Then indeed thou'dst act a part.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXLVI.
+
+TO CHLORIS.
+
+[Chloris was a Nithsdale beauty. Love and sorrow were strongly mingled
+in her early history: that she did not look so lovely in other eyes as
+she did in those of Burns is well known: but he had much of the taste
+of an artist, and admired the elegance of her form, and the harmony of
+her motion, as much as he did her blooming face and sweet voice.]
+
+
+    'Tis Friendship's pledge, my young, fair friend,
+      Nor thou the gift refuse,
+    Nor with unwilling ear attend
+      The moralizing muse.
+
+    Since thou in all thy youth and charms,
+      Must bid the world adieu,
+    (A world 'gainst peace in constant arms)
+      To join the friendly few.
+
+    Since, thy gay morn of life o'ercast,
+      Chill came the tempest's lower;
+    (And ne'er misfortune's eastern blast
+      Did nip a fairer flower.)
+
+    Since life's gay scenes must charm no more,
+      Still much is left behind;
+    Still nobler wealth hast thou in store--
+      The comforts of the mind!
+
+    Thine is the self-approving glow,
+      On conscious honour's part;
+    And, dearest gift of heaven below,
+      Thine friendship's truest heart.
+
+    The joys refin'd of sense and taste,
+      With every muse to rove:
+    And doubly were the poet blest,
+      These joys could he improve.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXLVII.
+
+POETICAL INSCRIPTION
+
+FOR AN ALTAR TO INDEPENDENCE.
+
+[It was the fashion of the feverish times of the French Revolution to
+plant trees of Liberty, and raise altars to Independence. Heron of
+Kerroughtree, a gentleman widely esteemed in Galloway, was about to
+engage in an election contest, and these noble lines served the
+purpose of announcing the candidate's sentiments on freedom.]
+
+
+    Thou of an independent mind,
+    With soul resolv'd, with soul resign'd;
+    Prepar'd Power's proudest frown to brave,
+    Who wilt not be, nor have a slave;
+    Virtue alone who dost revere,
+    Thy own reproach alone dost fear,
+    Approach this shrine, and worship here.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXLVIII.
+
+THE HERON BALLADS.
+
+[BALLAD FIRST.]
+
+[This is the first of several party ballads which Burns wrote to serve
+Patrick Heron, of Kerroughtree, in two elections for the Stewartry of
+Kirkcudbright, in which he was opposed, first, by Gordon of Balmaghie,
+and secondly, by the Hon. Montgomery Stewart. There is a personal
+bitterness in these lampoons, which did not mingle with the strains in
+which the poet recorded the contest between Miller and Johnstone. They
+are printed here as matters of poetry, and I feel sure that none will
+be displeased, and some will smile.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Whom will you send to London town,
+      To Parliament and a' that?
+    Or wha in a' the country round
+      The best deserves to fa' that?
+            For a' that, and a' that;
+            Thro Galloway and a' that;
+            Where is the laird or belted knight
+            That best deserves to fa' that?
+
+II.
+
+    Wha sees Kerroughtree's open yett,
+      And wha is't never saw that?
+    Wha ever wi' Kerroughtree meets
+      And has a doubt of a' that?
+            For a' that, and a' that,
+            Here's Heron yet for a' that,
+            The independent patriot,
+            The honest man, an' a' that.
+
+III.
+
+    Tho' wit and worth in either sex,
+      St. Mary's Isle can shaw that;
+    Wi' dukes and lords let Selkirk mix,
+      And weel does Selkirk fa' that.
+            For a' that, and a' that,
+            Here's Heron yet for a' that!
+            The independent commoner
+            Shall be the man for a' that.
+
+IV.
+
+    But why should we to nobles jouk,
+      And it's against the law that;
+    For why, a lord may be a gouk,
+      Wi' ribbon, star, an' a' that.
+            For a' that, an' a' that,
+            Here's Heron yet for a' that!
+            A lord may be a lousy loun,
+            Wi' ribbon, star, an' a' that.
+
+V.
+
+    A beardless boy comes o'er the hills,
+      Wi' uncle's purse an' a' that;
+    But we'll hae ane frae 'mang oursels,
+      A man we ken, an' a' that.
+            For a' that, an' a' that,
+            Here's Heron yet for a' that!
+            For we're not to be bought an' sold
+            Like naigs, an' nowt, an' a' that.
+
+VI.
+
+    Then let us drink the Stewartry,
+      Kerroughtree's laird, an' a' that,
+    Our representative to be,
+      For weel he's worthy a' that.
+            For a' that, an' a' that,
+            Here's Heron yet for a' that,
+            A House of Commons such as he,
+            They would be blest that saw that.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXLIX.
+
+THE HERON BALLADS.
+
+[BALLAD SECOND.]
+
+[In this ballad the poet gathers together, after the manner of "Fy!
+let us a' to the bridal," all the leading electors of the Stewartry,
+who befriended Heron, or opposed him; and draws their portraits in the
+colours of light or darkness, according to the complexion of their
+politics. He is too severe in most instances, and in some he is
+venomous. On the Earl of Galloway's family, and on the Murrays of
+Broughton and Caillie, as well as on Bushby of Tinwaldowns, he pours
+his hottest satire. But words which are unjust, or undeserved, fall
+off their victims like rain-drops from a wild-duck's wing. The Murrays
+of Broughton and Caillie have long borne, from the vulgar, the stigma
+of treachery to the cause of Prince Charles Stewart: from such infamy
+the family is wholly free: the traitor, Murray, was of a race now
+extinct; and while he was betraying the cause in which so much noble
+and gallant blood was shed, Murray of Broughton and Caillie was
+performing the duties of an honourable and loyal man: he was, like his
+great-grandson now, representing his native district in parliament.]
+
+
+THE ELECTION.
+
+I.
+
+    Fy, let us a' to Kirkcudbright,
+      For there will be bickerin' there;
+    For Murray's[112] light horse are to muster,
+      And O, how the heroes will swear!
+    An' there will be Murray commander,
+      And Gordon[113] the battle to win;
+    Like brothers they'll stand by each other,
+      Sae knit in alliance an' kin.
+
+II.
+
+    An' there will be black-lippit Johnnie,[114]
+      The tongue o' the trump to them a';
+    And he get na hell for his haddin'
+      The deil gets na justice ava';
+    And there will Kempleton's birkie,
+      A boy no sae black at the bane,
+    But, as for his fine nabob fortune,
+      We'll e'en let the subject alane.
+
+III.
+
+    An' there will be Wigton's new sheriff,
+      Dame Justice fu' brawlie has sped,
+    She's gotten the heart of a Bushby,
+      But, Lord, what's become o' the head?
+    An' there will be Cardoness,[115] Esquire,
+      Sae mighty in Cardoness' eyes;
+    A wight that will weather damnation,
+      For the devil the prey will despise.
+
+IV.
+
+    An' there will be Douglasses[116] doughty,
+      New christ'ning towns far and near;
+    Abjuring their democrat doings,
+      By kissing the ---- o' a peer;
+    An' there will be Kenmure[117] sae gen'rous,
+      Whose honour is proof to the storm,
+    To save them from stark reprobation,
+      He lent them his name to the firm.
+
+V.
+
+    But we winna mention Redcastle,[118]
+      The body, e'en let him escape!
+    He'd venture the gallows for siller,
+      An' 'twere na the cost o' the rape.
+    An' where is our king's lord lieutenant,
+      Sae fam'd for his gratefu' return?
+    The billie is gettin' his questions,
+      To say in St. Stephen's the morn.
+
+VI.
+
+    An' there will be lads o' the gospel,
+      Muirhead,[119] wha's as gude as he's true;
+    An' there will be Buittle's[120] apostle,
+      Wha's more o' the black than the blue;
+    An' there will be folk from St. Mary's,[121]
+      A house o' great merit and note,
+    The deil ane but honours them highly,--
+      The deil ane will gie them his vote!
+
+VII.
+
+    An' there will be wealthy young Richard,[122]
+      Dame Fortune should hing by the neck;
+    For prodigal, thriftless, bestowing,
+      His merit had won him respect:
+    An' there will be rich brother nabobs,
+      Tho' nabobs, yet men of the first,
+    An' there will be Collieston's[123] whiskers,
+      An' Quintin, o' lads not the worst.
+
+VIII.
+
+    An' there will be stamp-office Johnnie,[124]
+      Tak' tent how ye purchase a dram;
+    An' there will be gay Cassencarrie,
+      An' there will be gleg Colonel Tam;
+    An' there will be trusty Kerroughtree,[125]
+      Whose honour was ever his law,
+    If the virtues were pack'd in a parcel,
+      His worth might be sample for a'.
+
+IX.
+
+    An' can we forget the auld major,
+      Wha'll ne'er be forgot in the Greys,
+    Our flatt'ry we'll keep for some other,
+      Him only 'tis justice to praise.
+    An' there will be maiden Kilkerran,
+      And also Barskimming's gude knight,
+    An' there will be roarin' Birtwhistle,
+      Wha luckily roars in the right.
+
+X.
+
+    An' there, frae the Niddisdale borders,
+      Will mingle the Maxwells in droves;
+    Teugh Johnnie, staunch Geordie, an' Walie,
+      That griens for the fishes an' loaves;
+    An' there will be Logan Mac Douall,[126]
+      Sculdudd'ry an' he will be there,
+    An' also the wild Scot of Galloway,
+      Sodgerin', gunpowder Blair.
+
+XI.
+
+    Then hey the chaste interest o' Broughton,
+      An' hey for the blessings 'twill bring?
+    It may send Balmaghie to the Commons,
+      In Sodom 'twould make him a king;
+    An' hey for the sanctified M----y,
+      Our land who wi' chapels has stor'd;
+    He founder'd his horse among harlots,
+      But gied the auld naig to the Lord.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 112: Murray, of Broughton and Caillie.]
+
+[Footnote 113: Gordon of Balmaghie.]
+
+[Footnote 114: Bushby, of Tinwald-Downs.]
+
+[Footnote 115: Maxwell, of Cardoness.]
+
+[Footnote 116: The Douglasses, of Orchardtown and Castle-Douglas.]
+
+[Footnote 117: Gordon, afterwards Viscount Kenmore.]
+
+[Footnote 118: Laurie, of Redcastle.]
+
+[Footnote 119: Morehead, Minister of Urr.]
+
+[Footnote 120: The Minister of Buittle.]
+
+[Footnote 121: Earl of Selkirk's family.]
+
+[Footnote 122: Oswald, of Auchuncruive.]
+
+[Footnote 123: Copland, of Collieston and Blackwood.]
+
+[Footnote 124: John Syme, of the Stamp-office.]
+
+[Footnote 125: Heron, of Kerroughtree.]
+
+[Footnote 126: Colonel Macdouall, of Logan.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CL.
+
+THE HERON BALLADS.
+
+[BALLAD THIRD.]
+
+[This third and last ballad was written on the contest between Heron
+and Stewart, which followed close on that with Gordon. Heron carried
+the election, but was unseated by the decision of a Committee of the
+House of Commons: a decision which it is said he took so much to heart
+that it affected his health, and shortened his life.]
+
+
+AN EXCELLENT NEW SONG.
+
+Tune.--"_Buy broom besoms._"
+
+    Wha will buy my troggin,
+      Fine election ware;
+    Broken trade o' Broughton,
+      A' in high repair.
+                Buy braw troggin,
+                  Frae the banks o' Dee;
+                Wha wants troggin
+                  Let him come to me.
+
+    There's a noble Earl's[127]
+      Fame and high renown
+    For an auld sang--
+      It's thought the gudes were stown.
+                Buy braw troggin, &c.
+
+    Here's the worth o' Broughton[128]
+      In a needle's ee;
+    Here's a reputation
+      Tint by Balmaghie.
+                Buy braw troggin, &c.
+
+    Here's an honest conscience
+      Might a prince adorn;
+    Frae the downs o' Tinwald--[129]
+      So was never worn.
+                Buy braw troggin, &c.
+
+    Here's its stuff and lining,
+      Cardoness'[130] head;
+    Fine for a sodger
+      A' the wale o' lead.
+                Buy braw troggin, &c.
+
+    Here's a little wadset
+      Buittle's[131] scrap o' truth,
+    Pawn'd in a gin-shop
+      Quenching holy drouth.
+                Buy braw troggin, &c.
+
+    Here's armorial bearings
+      Frae the manse o' Urr;[132]
+    The crest, an auld crab-apple
+      Rotten at the core.
+                Buy braw troggin, &c.
+
+    Here is Satan's picture,
+      Like a bizzard gled,
+    Pouncing poor Redcastle,[133]
+      Sprawlin' as a taed.
+                Buy braw troggin, &c.
+
+    Here's the worth and wisdom
+      Collieston[134] can boast;
+    By a thievish midge
+      They had been nearly lost.
+                Buy braw troggin, &c.
+
+    Here is Murray's fragments
+      O' the ten commands;
+    Gifted by black Jock[135]
+      To get them aff his hands.
+                Buy braw troggin, &c.
+
+    Saw ye e'er sic troggin?
+      If to buy ye're slack,
+    Hornie's turnin' chapman,
+      He'll buy a' the pack.
+                Buy braw troggin,
+                  Frae the banks o' Dee;
+                Wha wants troggin
+                  Let him come to me.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 127: The Earl of Galloway.]
+
+[Footnote 128: Murray, of Broughton and Caillie.]
+
+[Footnote 129: Bushby, of Tinwald-downs.]
+
+[Footnote 130: Maxwell, of Cardoness.]
+
+[Footnote 131: The Minister of Buittle.]
+
+[Footnote 132: Morehead, of Urr.]
+
+[Footnote 133: Laurie, of Redcastle.]
+
+[Footnote 134: Copland, of Collieston and Blackwood.]
+
+[Footnote 135: John Bushby, of Tinwald-downs.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLI.
+
+POEM,
+
+ADDRESSED TO
+
+MR. MITCHELL, COLLECTOR OF EXCISE.
+
+DUMFRIES, 1796.
+
+[The gentlemen to whom this very modest, and, under the circumstances,
+most affecting application for his salary was made, filled the office
+of Collector of Excise for the district, and was of a kind and
+generous nature: but few were aware that the poet was suffering both
+from ill-health and poverty.]
+
+
+    Friend of the Poet, tried and leal,
+    Wha, wanting thee, might beg or steal;
+    Alake, alake, the meikle deil
+                      Wi' a' his witches
+    Are at it, skelpin' jig and reel,
+                      In my poor pouches!
+
+    I modestly fu' fain wad hint it,
+    That one pound one, I sairly want it,
+    If wi' the hizzie down ye sent it,
+                      It would be kind;
+    And while my heart wi' life-blood dunted
+                      I'd bear't in mind.
+
+    So may the auld year gang out moaning
+    To see the new come laden, groaning,
+    Wi' double plenty o'er the loanin
+                      To thee and thine;
+    Domestic peace and comforts crowning
+                      The hale design.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+POSTSCRIPT.
+
+    Ye've heard this while how I've been licket,
+    And by felt death was nearly nicket;
+    Grim loon! he got me by the fecket,
+                      And sair me sheuk;
+    But by guid luck I lap a wicket,
+                      And turn'd a neuk.
+
+    But by that health, I've got a share o't,
+    And by that life, I'm promised mair o't,
+    My hale and weel I'll tak a care o't,
+                      A tentier way:
+    Then farewell folly, hide and hair o't,
+                      For ance and aye!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLII.
+
+TO
+
+MISS JESSY LEWARS,
+
+DUMFRIES.
+
+WITH JOHNSON'S 'MUSICAL MUSEUM.'
+
+[Miss Jessy Lewars watched over the declining days of the poet, with
+the affectionate reverence of a daughter: for this she has the silent
+gratitude of all who admire the genius of Burns; she has received
+more, the thanks of the poet himself, expressed in verses not destined
+soon to die.]
+
+
+    Thine be the volumes, Jessy fair,
+    And with them take the Poet's prayer;
+    That fate may in her fairest page,
+    With every kindliest, best presage
+    Of future bliss, enrol thy name:
+    With native worth and spotless fame,
+    And wakeful caution still aware
+    Of ill--but chief, man's felon snare;
+    All blameless joys on earth we find,
+    And all the treasures of the mind--
+    These be thy guardian and reward;
+    So prays thy faithful friend, The Bard.
+
+_June_ 26, 1796.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLIII.
+
+POEM ON LIFE,
+
+ADDRESSED TO
+
+COLONEL DE PEYSTER.
+
+DUMFRIES, 1796.
+
+[This is supposed to be the last Poem written by the hand, or
+conceived by the muse of Burns. The person to whom it is addressed was
+Colonel of the gentlemen Volunteers of Dumfries, in whose ranks Burns
+was a private: he was a Canadian by birth, and prided himself on
+having defended Detroit, against the united efforts of the French and
+Americans. He was rough and austere, and thought the science of war
+the noblest of all sciences: he affected a taste for literature, and
+wrote verses.]
+
+
+    My honoured colonel, deep I feel
+    Your interest in the Poet's weal;
+    Ah! now sma' heart hae I to speel
+                      The steep Parnassus,
+    Surrounded thus by bolus, pill,
+                      And potion glasses.
+
+    O what a canty warld were it,
+    Would pain and care and sickness spare it;
+    And fortune favour worth and merit,
+                      As they deserve!
+    (And aye a rowth, roast beef and claret;
+                      Syne, wha wad starve?)
+
+    Dame Life, tho' fiction out may trick her,
+    And in paste gems and frippery deck her;
+    Oh! flickering, feeble, and unsicker
+                      I've found her still,
+    Ay wavering like the willow-wicker,
+                      'Tween good and ill.
+
+    Then that curst carmagnole, auld Satan,
+    Watches, like baudrons by a rattan,
+    Our sinfu' saul to get a claut on
+                      Wi' felon ire;
+    Syne, whip! his tail ye'll ne'er cast saut on--
+                      He's aff like fire.
+
+    Ah Nick! ah Nick! it is na fair,
+    First shewing us the tempting ware,
+    Bright wines and bonnie lasses rare,
+                      To put us daft;
+    Syne, weave, unseen, thy spider snare
+                      O' hell's damn'd waft.
+
+    Poor man, the flie, aft bizzes bye,
+    And aft as chance he comes thee nigh,
+    Thy auld danm'd elbow yeuks wi' joy,
+                      And hellish pleasure;
+    Already in thy fancy's eye,
+                      Thy sicker treasure!
+
+    Soon heels-o'er gowdie! in he gangs,
+    And like a sheep head on a tangs,
+    Thy girning laugh enjoys his pangs
+                      And murd'ring wrestle,
+    As, dangling in the wind, he hangs
+                      A gibbet's tassel.
+
+    But lest you think I am uncivil,
+    To plague you with this draunting drivel,
+    Abjuring a' intentions evil,
+                      I quat my pen:
+    The Lord preserve us frae the devil,
+                      Amen! amen!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+EPITAPHS, EPIGRAMS, FRAGMENTS,
+
+ETC., ETC.
+
+
+I.
+
+ON THE AUTHOR'S FATHER.
+
+[William Burness merited his son's eulogiums: he was an example of
+piety, patience, and fortitude.]
+
+
+    O ye whose cheek the tear of pity stains,
+      Draw near with pious rev'rence and attend!
+    Here lie the loving husband's dear remains,
+      The tender father and the gen'rous friend.
+    The pitying heart that felt for human woe;
+      The dauntless heart that feared no human pride;
+    The friend of man, to vice alone a foe;
+      "For ev'n his failings lean'd to virtue's side."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+II.
+
+ON R.A., ESQ.
+
+[Robert Aiken, Esq., to whom "The Cotter's Saturday Night" is
+addressed: a kind and generous man.]
+
+
+    Know thou, O stranger to the fame
+    Of this much lov'd, much honour'd name!
+    (For none that knew him need be told)
+    A warmer heart death ne'er made cold.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+III.
+
+ON A FRIEND.
+
+[The name of this friend is neither mentioned nor alluded to in any of
+the poet's productions.]
+
+
+    An honest man here lies at rest
+    As e'er God with his image blest!
+    The friend of man, the friend of truth;
+    The friend of age, and guide of youth;
+    Few hearts like his, with virtue warm'd,
+    Few heads with knowledge so inform'd:
+    If there's another world, he lives in bliss;
+    If there is none, he made the best of this.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+IV.
+
+FOR GAVIN HAMILTON.
+
+[These lines allude to the persecution which Hamilton endured for
+presuming to ride on Sunday, and say, "damn it," in the presence of
+the minister of Mauchline.]
+
+
+    The poor man weeps--here Gavin sleeps,
+      Whom canting wretches blam'd:
+    But with such as he, where'er he be,
+      May I be sav'd or damn'd!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+V.
+
+ON WEE JOHNNY.
+
+HIC JACET WEE JOHNNY.
+
+[Wee Johnny was John Wilson, printer of the Kilmarnock edition of
+Burns's Poems: he doubted the success of the speculation, and the poet
+punished him in these lines, which he printed unaware of their
+meaning.]
+
+
+    Whoe'er thou art, O reader, know,
+      That death has murder'd Johnny!
+    An' here his body lies fu' low--
+      For saul he ne'er had ony.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+VI.
+
+ON JOHN DOVE,
+
+INNKEEPER, MAUCHLINE.
+
+[John Dove kept the Whitefoord Arms in Mauchline: his religion is made
+to consist of a comparative appreciation of the liquors he kept.]
+
+
+    Here lies Johnny Pidgeon;
+    What was his religion?
+      Wha e'er desires to ken,
+    To some other warl'
+    Maun follow the carl,
+      For here Johnny Pidgeon had nane!
+
+    Strong ale was ablution--
+    Small beer, persecution,
+      A dram was _memento mori_;
+    But a full flowing bowl
+    Was the saving his soul,
+      And port was celestial glory.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+VII.
+
+ON A WAG IN MAUCHLINE.
+
+[This laborious and useful wag was the "Dear Smith, thou sleest pawkie
+thief," of one of the poet's finest epistles: he died in the West
+Indies.]
+
+
+    Lament him, Mauchline husbands a',
+      He aften did assist ye;
+    For had ye staid whole weeks awa,
+      Your wives they ne'er had missed ye.
+    Ye Mauchline bairns, as on ye press
+      To school in bands thegither,
+    O tread ye lightly on his grass,--
+      Perhaps he was your father.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+VIII.
+
+ON A CELEBRATED RULING ELDER.
+
+[Souter Hood obtained the distinction of this Epigram by his
+impertinent inquiries into what he called the moral delinquencies of
+Burns.]
+
+
+    Here souter Hood in death does sleep;--
+      To h--ll, if he's gane thither,
+    Satan, gie him thy gear to keep,
+      He'll haud it weel thegither.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+IX.
+
+ON A NOISY POLEMIC.
+
+[This noisy polemic was a mason of the name of James Humphrey: he
+astonished Cromek by an eloquent dissertation on free grace,
+effectual-calling, and predestination.]
+
+
+    Below thir stanes lie Jamie's banes:
+      O Death, it's my opinion,
+    Thou ne'er took such a blethrin' b--ch
+      Into thy dark dominion!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+X.
+
+ON MISS JEAN SCOTT.
+
+[The heroine of these complimentary lines lived in Ayr, and cheered
+the poet with her sweet voice, as well as her sweet looks.]
+
+
+    Oh! had each Scot of ancient times,
+      Been Jeany Scott, as thou art,
+    The bravest heart on English ground
+      Had yielded like a coward!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XI.
+
+ON A HENPECKED COUNTRY SQUIRE.
+
+[Though satisfied with the severe satire of these lines, the poet made
+a second attempt.]
+
+
+    As father Adam first was fool'd,
+      A case that's still too common,
+    Here lies a man a woman rul'd,
+      The devil rul'd the woman.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XII.
+
+ON THE SAME.
+
+[The second attempt did not in Burns's fancy exhaust this fruitful
+subject: he tried his hand again.]
+
+
+    O Death, hadst thou but spared his life,
+      Whom we this day lament,
+    We freely wad exchang'd the wife,
+      And a' been weel content!
+
+    Ev'n as he is, cauld in his graff,
+      The swap we yet will do't;
+    Take thou the carlin's carcase aff,
+      Thou'se get the soul to boot.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XIII.
+
+ON THE SAME.
+
+[In these lines he bade farewell to the sordid dame, who lived, it is
+said, in Netherplace, near Mauchline.]
+
+
+    One Queen Artemisia, as old stories tell,
+    When depriv'd of her husband she loved so well,
+    In respect for the love and affection he'd show'd her,
+    She reduc'd him to dust and she drank up the powder.
+    But Queen Netherplace, of a diff'rent complexion,
+    When call'd on to order the fun'ral direction,
+    Would have eat her dear lord, on a slender pretence,
+    Not to show her respect, but to save the expense.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XIV.
+
+THE HIGHLAND WELCOME.
+
+[Burns took farewell of the hospitalities of the Scottish Highlands in
+these happy lines.]
+
+
+    When Death's dark stream I ferry o'er,
+      A time that surely shall come;
+    In Heaven itself I'll ask no more
+      Than just a Highland welcome.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XV.
+
+ON WILLIAM SMELLIE.
+
+[Smellie, author of the Philosophy of History; a singular person, of
+ready wit, and negligent in nothing save his dress.]
+
+
+    Shrewd Willie Smellie to Crochallan came,
+    The old cock'd hat, the gray surtout, the same;
+    His bristling beard just rising in its might,
+    'Twas four long nights and days to shaving night:
+
+    His uncomb'd grizzly locks wild staring, thatch'd
+    A head for thought profound and clear, unmatch'd:
+    Yet tho' his caustic wit was biting, rude,
+    His heart was warm, benevolent, and good.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XVI.
+
+VERSES
+
+WRITTEN ON A WINDOW OF THE INN AT CARRON.
+
+[These lines were written on receiving what the poet considered an
+uncivil refusal to look at the works of the celebrated Carron
+foundry.]
+
+
+    We came na here to view your warks
+      In hopes to be mair wise,
+    But only, lest we gang to hell,
+      It may be nae surprise:
+
+    For whan we tirl'd at your door,
+      Your porter dought na hear us;
+    Sae may, shou'd we to hell's yetts come
+      Your billy Satan sair us!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XVII.
+
+THE BOOK-WORMS.
+
+[Burns wrote this reproof in a Shakspeare, which he found splendidly
+bound and gilt, but unread and worm-eaten, in a noble person's
+library.]
+
+
+    Through and through the inspir'd leaves,
+      Ye maggots, make your windings;
+    But oh! respect his lordship's taste,
+      And spare his golden bindings.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XVIII.
+
+LINES ON STIRLING.
+
+[On visiting Stirling, Burns was stung at beholding nothing but
+desolation in the palaces of our princes and our halls of legislation,
+and vented his indignation in those unloyal lines: some one has said
+that they were written by his companion, Nicol, but this wants
+confirmation.]
+
+
+    Here Stuarts once in glory reign'd,
+    And laws for Scotland's weal ordain'd;
+    But now unroof'd their palace stands,
+    Their sceptre's sway'd by other hands;
+    The injured Stuart line is gone,
+    A race outlandish fills their throne;
+    An idiot race, to honour lost;
+    Who know them best despise them most.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XIX.
+
+THE REPROOF.
+
+[The imprudence of making the lines written at Stirling public was
+hinted to Burns by a friend; he said, "Oh, but I mean to reprove
+myself for it," which he did in these words.]
+
+
+    Rash mortal, and slanderous Poet, thy name
+    Shall no longer appear in the records of fame;
+    Dost not know that old Mansfield, who writes like the Bible,
+    Says the more 'tis a truth, Sir, the more 'tis a libel?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XX.
+
+THE REPLY.
+
+[The minister of Gladsmuir wrote a censure on the Stirling lines,
+intimating, as a priest, that Burns's race was nigh run, and as a
+prophet, that oblivion awaited his muse. The poet replied to the
+expostulation.]
+
+
+    Like Esop's lion, Burns says, sore I feel
+    All others' scorn--but damn that ass's heel.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXI.
+
+LINES
+
+WRITTEN UNDER THE PICTURE OF THE CELEBRATED MISS BURNS.
+
+[The Miss Burns of these lines was well known in those days to the
+bucks of the Scottish metropolis: there is still a letter by the poet,
+claiming from the magistrates of Edinburgh a liberal interpretation of
+the laws of social morality, in belief of his fair namesake.]
+
+
+    Cease, ye prudes, your envious railings,
+      Lovely Burns has charms--confess:
+    True it is, she had one failing--
+      Had a woman ever less?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXII.
+
+EXTEMPORE IN THE COURT OF SESSION.
+
+[These portraits are strongly coloured with the partialities of the
+poet: Dundas had offended his pride, Erskine had pleased his vanity;
+and as he felt he spoke.]
+
+
+LORD ADVOCATE.
+
+    He clench'd his pamphlets in his fist,
+      He quoted and he hinted,
+    'Till in a declamation-mist
+      His argument he tint it:
+    He gaped for't, he grap'd for't,
+      He fand it was awa, man;
+    But what his common sense came short
+      He eked out wi' law, man.
+
+MR. ERSKINE.
+
+    Collected Harry stood awee,
+      Then open'd out his arm, man:
+    His lordship sat wi' rueful e'e,
+      And ey'd the gathering storm, man;
+    Like wind-driv'n hail it did assail,
+      Or torrents owre a linn, man;
+    The Bench sae wise lift up their eyes,
+      Half-wauken'd wi' the din, man.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXIII.
+
+THE HENPECKED HUSBAND.
+
+[A lady who expressed herself with incivility about her husband's
+potations with Burns, was rewarded by these sharp lines.]
+
+
+    Curs'd be the man, the poorest wretch in life,
+    The crouching vassal to the tyrant wife!
+    Who has no will but by her high permission;
+    Who has not sixpence but in her possession;
+    Who must to her his dear friend's secret tell;
+    Who dreads a curtain lecture worse than hell!
+    Were such the wife had fallen to my part,
+    I'd break her spirit, or I'd break her heart;
+    I'd charm her with the magic of a switch,
+    I'd kiss her maids, and kick the perverse b----h.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXIV.
+
+WRITTEN AT INVERARY.
+
+[Neglected at the inn of Inverary, on account of the presence of some
+northern chiefs, and overlooked by his Grace of Argyll, the poet let
+loose his wrath and his rhyme: tradition speaks of a pursuit which
+took place on the part of the Campbell, when he was told of his
+mistake, and of a resolution not to be soothed on the part of the
+bard.]
+
+
+    Whoe'er he be that sojourns here,
+      I pity much his case,
+    Unless he's come to wait upon
+      The Lord their God, his Grace.
+
+    There's naething here but Highland pride
+      And Highland cauld and hunger;
+    If Providence has sent me here,
+      T'was surely in his anger.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXV.
+
+ON ELPHINSTON'S TRANSLATIONS.
+
+OF
+
+MARTIAL'S EPIGRAMS.
+
+[Burns thus relates the origin of this sally:--"Stopping at a
+merchant's shop in Edinburgh, a friend of mine one day put
+Elphinston's Translation of Martial into my hand, and desired my
+opinion of it. I asked permission to write my opinion on a blank leaf
+of the book; which being granted, I wrote this epigram."]
+
+
+    O thou, whom poesy abhors,
+    Whom prose has turned out of doors,
+    Heard'st thou that groan? proceed no further;
+    'Twas laurell'd Martial roaring murther!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXVI.
+
+INSCRIPTION.
+
+ON THE HEADSTONE OF FERGUSSON.
+
+[Some social friends, whose good feelings were better than their
+taste, have ornamented with supplemental iron work the headstone which
+Burns erected, with this inscription to the memory of his brother
+bard, Fergusson.]
+
+
+                     Here lies
+               ROBERT FERGUSSON, Poet.
+              Born, September 5, 1751;
+                Died, Oct. 15, 1774.
+
+    No sculptured marble here, nor pompous lay,
+      "No storied urn nor animated bust;"
+    This simple stone directs pale Scotia's way
+      To pour her sorrows o'er her poet's dust.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXVII.
+
+ON A SCHOOLMASTER.
+
+[The Willie Michie of this epigram was, it is said, schoolmaster of
+the parish of Cleish, in Fifeshire: he met Burns during his first
+visit to Edinburgh.]
+
+
+    Here lie Willie Michie's banes;
+      O, Satan! when ye tak' him,
+    Gi' him the schoolin' o' your weans,
+      For clever de'ils he'll mak' them.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXVIII.
+
+A GRACE BEFORE DINNER.
+
+[This was an extempore grace, pronounced by the poet at a
+dinner-table, in Dumfries: he was ever ready to contribute the small
+change of rhyme, for either the use or amusement of a company.]
+
+
+    O thou, who kindly dost provide
+      For every creature's want!
+    We bless thee, God of Nature wide,
+      For all thy goodness lent:
+    And if it please thee, Heavenly Guide,
+      May never worse be sent;
+    But, whether granted or denied,
+      Lord bless us with content!
+                                 Amen.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXIX.
+
+A GRACE BEFORE MEAT.
+
+[Pronounced, tradition says, at the table of Mrs. Riddel, of
+Woodleigh-Park.]
+
+
+    O thou in whom we live and move,
+      Who mad'st the sea and shore,
+    Thy goodness constantly we prove,
+      And grateful would adore.
+    And if it please thee, Power above,
+      Still grant us with such store,
+    The friend we trust, the fair we love,
+      And we desire no more.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXX.
+
+ON WAT.
+
+[The name of the object of this fierce epigram might be found, but in
+gratifying curiosity, some pain would be inflicted.]
+
+
+    Sic a reptile was Wat,
+      Sic a miscreant slave,
+    That the very worms damn'd him
+      When laid in his grave.
+    "In his flesh there's a famine,"
+      A starv'd reptile cries;
+    "An' his heart is rank poison,"
+      Another replies.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXXI.
+
+ON CAPTAIN FRANCIS GROSE.
+
+[This was a festive sally: it is said that Grose, who was very fat,
+though he joined in the laugh, did not relish it.]
+
+
+    The devil got notice that Grose was a-dying,
+    So whip! at the summons, old Satan came flying;
+    But when he approach'd where poor Francis lay moaning,
+    And saw each bed-post with its burden a-groaning,
+    Astonish'd! confounded! cry'd Satan, "By ----,
+    I'll want him, ere I take such a damnable load!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXXII.
+
+IMPROMPTU,
+
+TO MISS AINSLIE.
+
+[These lines were occasioned by a sermon on sin, to which the poet and
+Miss Ainslie of Berrywell had listened, during his visit to the
+border.]
+
+
+    Fair maid, you need not take the hint,
+      Nor idle texts pursue:--
+    'Twas guilty sinners that he meant,
+      Not angels such as you!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXXIII.
+
+THE KIRK OF LAMINGTON.
+
+[One rough, cold day, Burns listened to a sermon, so little to his
+liking, in the kirk of Lamington, in Clydesdale, that he left this
+protest on the seat where he sat.]
+
+
+    As cauld a wind as ever blew,
+    As caulder kirk, and in't but few;
+    As cauld a minister's e'er spak,
+    Ye'se a' be het ere I come back.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXXIV.
+
+THE LEAGUE AND COVENANT.
+
+[In answer to a gentleman, who called the solemn League and Covenant
+ridiculous and fanatical.]
+
+
+    The solemn League and Covenant
+      Cost Scotland blood--cost Scotland tears;
+    But it sealed freedom's sacred cause--
+      If thou'rt a slave, indulge thy sneers.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXXV.
+
+WRITTEN ON A PANE OF GLASS,
+
+IN THE INN AT MOFFAT.
+
+[A friend asked the poet why God made Miss Davies so little, and a
+lady who was with her, so large: before the ladies, who had just
+passed the window, were out of sight, the following answer was
+recorded on a pane of glass.]
+
+
+    Ask why God made the gem so small,
+      And why so huge the granite?
+    Because God meant mankind should set
+      The higher value on it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXXVI.
+
+SPOKEN,
+
+ON BEING APPOINTED TO THE EXCISE.
+
+[Burns took no pleasure in the name of gauger: the situation was
+unworthy of him, and he seldom hesitated to say so.]
+
+
+    Searching auld wives' barrels,
+      Och--hon! the day!
+    That clarty barm should stain my laurels;
+      But--what'll ye say!
+    These movin' things ca'd wives and weans
+    Wad move the very hearts o' stanes!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXXVII.
+
+LINES ON MRS. KEMBLE.
+
+[The poet wrote these lines in Mrs. Riddel's box in the Dumfries
+Theatre, in the winter of 1794: he was much moved by Mrs. Kemble's
+noble and pathetic acting.]
+
+
+    Kemble, thou cur'st my unbelief
+      Of Moses and his rod;
+    At Yarico's sweet notes of grief
+      The rock with tears had flow'd.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXXVIII.
+
+TO MR. SYME.
+
+[John Syme, of Ryedale, a rhymer, a wit, and a gentleman of education
+and intelligence, was, while Burns resided in Dumfries, his chief
+companion: he was bred to the law.]
+
+
+    No more of your guests, be they titled or not,
+      And cook'ry the first in the nation;
+    Who is proof to thy personal converse and wit,
+      Is proof to all other temptation.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXXIX.
+
+TO MR. SYME.
+
+WITH A PRESENT OF A DOZEN OF PORTER.
+
+[The tavern where these lines were written was kept by a wandering
+mortal of the name of Smith; who, having visited in some capacity or
+other the Holy Land, put on his sign, "John Smith, from Jerusalem." He
+was commonly known by the name of Jerusalem John.]
+
+
+    O, had the malt thy strength of mind,
+      Or hops the flavour of thy wit,
+    'Twere drink for first of human kind,
+      A gift that e'en for Syme were fit.
+
+_Jerusalem Tavern, Dumfries._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XL.
+
+A GRACE.
+
+[This Grace was spoken at the table of Ryedale, where to the best
+cookery was added the richest wine, as well as the rarest wit: Hyslop
+was a distiller.]
+
+
+    Lord, we thank and thee adore,
+      For temp'ral gifts we little merit;
+    At present we will ask no more,
+      Let William Hyslop give the spirit.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XLI.
+
+INSCRIPTION ON A GOBLET.
+
+[Written on a dinner-goblet by the hand of Burns. Syme, exasperated at
+having his set of crystal defaced, threw the goblet under the grate:
+it was taken up by his clerk, and it is still preserved as a
+curiosity.]
+
+
+    There's death in the cup--sae beware!
+      Nay, more--there is danger in touching;
+    But wha can avoid the fell snare?
+      The man and his wine's sae bewitching!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XLII.
+
+THE INVITATION.
+
+[Burns had a happy knack in acknowledging civilities. These lines were
+written with a pencil on the paper in which Mrs. Hyslop, of
+Lochrutton, enclosed an invitation to dinner.]
+
+
+    The King's most humble servant I,
+      Can scarcely spare a minute;
+    But I am yours at dinner-time,
+      Or else the devil's in it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XLIII.
+
+THE CREED OF POVERTY.
+
+[When the commissioners of Excise told Burns that he was to act, and
+not to think; he took out his pencil and wrote "The Creed of
+Poverty."]
+
+
+    In politics if thou would'st mix,
+      And mean thy fortunes be;
+    Bear this in mind--be deaf and blind;
+      Let great folks hear and see.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XLIV.
+
+WRITTEN IN A LADY'S POCKET-BOOK.
+
+[That Burns loved liberty and sympathized with those who were warring
+in its cause, these lines, and hundreds more, sufficiently testify.]
+
+
+    Grant me, indulgent Heav'n, that I may live
+    To see the miscreants feel the pains they give,
+    Deal Freedom's sacred treasures free as air,
+    Till slave and despot be but things which were.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XLV.
+
+THE PARSON'S LOOKS.
+
+[Some sarcastic person said, in Burns's hearing, that there was
+falsehood in the Reverend Dr. Burnside's looks: the poet mused for a
+moment, and replied in lines which have less of truth than point.]
+
+
+    That there is falsehood in his looks
+      I must and will deny;
+    They say their master is a knave--
+      And sure they do not lie.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XLVI.
+
+THE TOAD-EATER.
+
+[This reproof was administered extempore to one of the guests at the
+table of Maxwell, of Terraughty, whose whole talk was of Dukes with
+whom he had dined, and of earls with whom he had supped.]
+
+
+    What of earls with whom you have supt,
+      And of dukes that you dined with yestreen?
+    Lord! a louse, Sir, is still but a louse,
+      Though it crawl on the curl of a queen.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XLVII.
+
+ON ROBERT RIDDEL.
+
+[I copied these lines from a pane of glass in the Friars-Carse
+Hermitage, on which they had been traced with the diamond of Burns.]
+
+
+    To Riddel, much-lamented man,
+      This ivied cot was dear;
+    Reader, dost value matchless worth?
+      This ivied cot revere.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XLVIII.
+
+THE TOAST.
+
+[Burns being called on for a song, by his brother volunteers, on a
+festive occasion, gave the following Toast.]
+
+
+    Instead of a song, boys, I'll give you a toast--
+    Here's the memory of those on the twelfth that we lost!--
+    That we lost, did I say? nay, by Heav'n, that we found;
+    For their fame it shall last while the world goes round.
+    The next in succession, I'll give you--the King!
+    Whoe'er would betray him, on high may he swing;
+    And here's the grand fabric, our free Constitution,
+    As built on the base of the great Revolution;
+    And longer with politics not to be cramm'd,
+    Be Anarchy curs'd, and be Tyranny damn'd;
+    And who would to Liberty e'er prove disloyal,
+    May his son be a hangman, and he his first trial.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XLIX.
+
+ON A PERSON NICKNAMED
+
+THE MARQUIS.
+
+[In a moment when vanity prevailed against prudence, this person, who
+kept a respectable public-house in Dumfries, desired Burns, to write
+his epitaph.]
+
+
+    Here lies a mock Marquis, whose titles were shamm'd;
+    If ever he rise, it will be to be damn'd.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+L.
+
+LINES
+
+WRITTEN ON A WINDOW.
+
+[Burns traced these words with a diamond, on the window of the King's
+Arms Tavern, Dumfries, as a reply, or reproof, to one who had been
+witty on excisemen.]
+
+
+    Ye men of wit and wealth, why all this sneering
+    'Gainst poor Excisemen? give the cause a hearing;
+    What are you, landlords' rent-rolls? teasing ledgers:
+    What premiers--what? even monarchs' mighty gaugers:
+    Nay, what are priests, those seeming godly wise men?
+    What are they, pray, but spiritual Excisemen?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LI.
+
+LINES
+
+WRITTEN ON A WINDOW OF THE GLOBE TAVERN, DUMFRIES.
+
+[The Globe Tavern was Burne's favourite "Howff," as he called it. It
+had other attractions than good liquor; there lived "Anna, with the
+golden locks."]
+
+
+    The greybeard, old Wisdom, may boast of his treasures,
+      Give me with gay Folly to live;
+    I grant him his calm-blooded, time-settled pleasures,
+      But Folly has raptures to give.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LII.
+
+THE SELKIRK GRACE.
+
+[On a visit to St. Mary's Isle, Burns was requested by the noble owner
+to say grace to dinner; he obeyed in these lines, now known in
+Galloway by the name of "The Selkirk Grace."]
+
+
+    Some hae meat and canna eat,
+      And some wad eat that want it;
+    But we hae meat and we can eat,
+      And sae the Lord be thanket.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LIII.
+
+TO DR. MAXWELL,
+
+ON JESSIE STAIG'S RECOVERY.
+
+[Maxwell was a skilful physician; and Jessie Staig, the Provost's
+oldest daughter, was a young lady of great beauty: she died early.]
+
+
+    Maxwell, if merit here you crave
+      That merit I deny,
+    You save fair Jessie from the grave--
+      An angel could not die.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LIV.
+
+EPITAPH.
+
+[These lines were traced by the hand of Burns on a goblet belonging to
+Gabriel Richardson, brewer, in Dumfries: it is carefully preserved in
+the family.]
+
+
+    Here brewer Gabriel's fire's extinct,
+      And empty all his barrels:
+    He's blest--if, as he brew'd, he drink--
+      In upright virtuous morals.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LV.
+
+EPITAPH
+
+ON WILLIAM NICOL.
+
+[Nicol was a scholar, of ready and rough wit, who loved a joke and a
+gill.]
+
+
+    Ye maggots, feast on Nicol's brain,
+      For few sic feasts ye've gotten;
+    And fix your claws in Nicol's heart,
+      For deil a bit o't's rotten.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LVI.
+
+ON THE DEATH OF A LAP-DOG,
+
+NAMED ECHO.
+
+[When visiting with Syme at Kenmore Castle, Burns wrote this Epitaph,
+rather reluctantly, it is said, at the request of the lady of the
+house, in honour of her lap dog.]
+
+
+    In wood and wild, ye warbling throng,
+      Your heavy loss deplore;
+    Now half extinct your powers of song,
+      Sweet Echo is no more.
+
+    Ye jarring, screeching things around,
+      Scream your discordant joys;
+    Now half your din of tuneless sound
+      With Echo silent lies.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LVII.
+
+ON A NOTED COXCOMB.
+
+[Neither Ayr, Edinburgh, nor Dumfries have contested the honour of
+producing the person on whom these lines were written:--coxcombs are
+the growth of all districts.]
+
+
+    Light lay the earth on Willy's breast,
+      His chicken-heart so tender;
+    But build a castle on his head,
+      His skull will prop it under.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LVIII.
+
+ON SEEING THE BEAUTIFUL SEAT OF
+
+LORD GALLOWAY.
+
+[This, and the three succeeding Epigrams, are hasty squibs thrown amid
+the tumult of a contested election, and must not be taken as the fixed
+and deliberate sentiments of the poet, regarding an ancient and noble
+house.]
+
+
+    What dost thou in that mansion fair?--
+      Flit, Galloway, and find
+    Some narrow, dirty, dungeon cave,
+      The picture of thy mind!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LIX.
+
+ON THE SAME.
+
+
+    No Stewart art thou, Galloway,
+      The Stewarts all were brave;
+    Besides, the Stewarts were but fools,
+      Not one of them a knave.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LX.
+
+ON THE SAME.
+
+
+    Bright ran thy line, O Galloway,
+      Thro' many a far-fam'd sire!
+    So ran the far-fam'd Roman way,
+      So ended in a mire.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXI.
+
+TO THE SAME,
+
+ON THE AUTHOR BEING THREATENED WITH HIS
+
+RESENTMENT.
+
+
+    Spare me thy vengeance, Galloway,
+      In quiet let me live:
+    I ask no kindness at thy hand,
+      For thou hast none to give.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXII.
+
+ON A COUNTRY LAIRD.
+
+[Mr. Maxwell, of Cardoness, afterwards Sir David, exposed himself to
+the rhyming wrath of Burns, by his activity in the contested elections
+of Heron.]
+
+
+    Bless Jesus Christ, O Cardoness,
+      With grateful lifted eyes,
+    Who said that not the soul alone
+      But body too, must rise:
+    For had he said, "the soul alone
+      From death I will deliver;"
+    Alas! alas! O Cardoness,
+      Then thou hadst slept for ever.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXIII.
+
+ON JOHN BUSHBY.
+
+[Burns, in his harshest lampoons, always admitted the talents of
+Bushby: the peasantry, who hate all clever attorneys, loved to handle
+his character with unsparing severity.]
+
+
+    Here lies John Bushby, honest man!
+    Cheat him, Devil, gin ye can.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXIV.
+
+THE TRUE LOYAL NATIVES.
+
+[At a dinner-party, where politics ran high, lines signed by men who
+called themselves the true loyal natives of Dumfries, were handed to
+Burns: he took a pencil, and at once wrote this reply.]
+
+
+    Ye true "Loyal Natives," attend to my song,
+    In uproar and riot rejoice the night long;
+    From envy or hatred your corps is exempt,
+    But where is your shield from the darts of contempt?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXV.
+
+ON A SUICIDE.
+
+[Burns was observed by my friend, Dr. Copland Hutchinson, to fix, one
+morning, a bit of paper on the grave of a person who had committed
+suicide: on the paper these lines were pencilled.]
+
+
+    Earth'd up here lies an imp o' hell,
+      Planted by Satan's dibble--
+    Poor silly wretch, he's damn'd himsel'
+      To save the Lord the trouble.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXVI.
+
+EXTEMPORE
+
+PINNED ON A LADY'S COUCH.
+
+["Printed," says Sir Harris Nicolas, "from a copy in Burns's
+handwriting," a slight alteration in the last line is made from an
+oral version.]
+
+
+    If you rattle along like your mistress's tongue,
+      Your speed will outrival the dart:
+    But, a fly for your load, you'll break down on the road
+      If your stuff has the rot, like her heart.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXVII.
+
+LINES
+
+TO JOHN RANKINE.
+
+[These lines were said to have been written by the poet to Rankine, of
+Adamhill, with orders to forward them when he died.]
+
+
+    He who of Rankine sang lies stiff and dead,
+    And a green grassy hillock hides his head;
+    Alas! alas! a devilish change indeed.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXVIII.
+
+JESSY LEWARS.
+
+[Written on the blank side of a list of wild beasts, exhibiting in
+Dumfries. "Now," said the poet, who was then very ill, "it is fit to
+be presented to a lady."]
+
+
+    Talk not to me of savages
+      From Afric's burning sun,
+    No savage e'er could rend my heart
+      As, Jessy, thou hast done.
+    But Jessy's lovely hand in mine,
+      A mutual faith to plight,
+    Not even to view the heavenly choir
+      Would be so blest a sight.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXIX.
+
+THE TOAST.
+
+[One day, when Burns was ill and seemed in slumber, he observed Jessy
+Lewars moving about the house with a light step lest she should
+disturb him. He took a crystal goblet containing wine-and-water for
+moistening his lips, wrote these words upon it with a diamond, and
+presented it to her.]
+
+
+    Fill me with the rosy-wine,
+    Call a toast--a toast divine;
+    Give the Poet's darling flame,
+    Lovely Jessy be the name;
+    Then thou mayest freely boast,
+    Thou hast given a peerless toast.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXX.
+
+ON MISS JESSY LEWARS.
+
+[The constancy of her attendance on the poet's sick-bed and anxiety of
+mind brought a slight illness upon Jessy Lewars. "You must not die
+yet," said the poet: "give me that goblet, and I shall prepare you for
+the worst." He traced these lines with his diamond, and said, "That
+will be a companion to 'The Toast.'"]
+
+
+    Say, sages, what's the charm on earth
+      Can turn Death's dart aside?
+    It is not purity and worth,
+      Else Jessy had not died.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXI.
+
+ON THE
+
+RECOVERY OF JESSY LEWARS.
+
+[A little repose brought health to the young lady. "I knew you would
+not die," observed the poet, with a smile: "there is a poetic reason
+for your recovery;" he wrote, and with a feeble hand, the following
+lines.]
+
+
+    But rarely seen since Nature's birth,
+      The natives of the sky;
+    Yet still one seraph's left on earth,
+      For Jessy did not die.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXII.
+
+TAM, THE CHAPMAN.
+
+[Tam, the chapman, is said by the late William Cobbett, who knew him,
+to have been a Thomas Kennedy, a native of Ayrshire, agent to a
+mercantile house in the west of Scotland. Sir Harris Nicolas confounds
+him with the Kennedy to whom Burns addressed several letters and
+verses, which I printed in my edition of the poet in 1834: it is
+perhaps enough to say that the name of the one was Thomas and the name
+of the other John.]
+
+
+    As Tam the Chapman on a day,
+    Wi' Death forgather'd by the way,
+    Weel pleas'd he greets a wight so famous,
+    And Death was nae less pleas'd wi' Thomas,
+    Wha cheerfully lays down the pack,
+    And there blaws up a hearty crack;
+    His social, friendly, honest heart,
+    Sae tickled Death they could na part:
+    Sac after viewing knives and garters,
+    Death takes him hame to gie him quarters.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXIII.
+
+[These lines seem to owe their origin to the precept of Mickle.
+
+    "The present moment is our ain,
+    The next we never saw."]
+
+
+    Here's a bottle and an honest friend!
+      What wad you wish for mair, man?
+    Wha kens before his life may end,
+      What his share may be o' care, man?
+    Then catch the moments as they fly,
+      And use them as ye ought, man?
+    Believe me, happiness is shy,
+      And comes not ay when sought, man.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXIV.
+
+[The sentiment which these lines express, was one familiar to Burns,
+in the early, as well as concluding days of his life.]
+
+
+    Though fickle Fortune has deceived me,
+      She promis'd fair and perform'd but ill;
+    Of mistress, friends, and wealth bereav'd me,
+      Yet I bear a heart shall support me still.--
+
+    I'll act with prudence as far's I'm able,
+      But if success I must never find,
+    Then come misfortune, I bid thee welcome,
+      I'll meet thee with an undaunted mind.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXV.
+
+TO JOHN KENNEDY.
+
+[The John Kennedy to whom these verses and the succeeding lines were
+addressed, lived, in 1796, at Dumfries-house, and his taste was so
+much esteemed by the poet, that he submitted his "Cotter's Saturday
+Night" and the "Mountain Daisy" to his judgment: he seems to have been
+of a social disposition.]
+
+
+    Now, Kennedy, if foot or horse
+    E'er bring you in by Mauchline Cross,
+    L--d, man, there's lasses there wad force
+                      A hermit's fancy.
+    And down the gate in faith they're worse
+                      And mair unchancy.
+
+    But as I'm sayin', please step to Dow's,
+    And taste sic gear as Johnnie brews,
+    Till some bit callan bring me news
+                      That ye are there,
+    And if we dinna hae a bouze
+                      I'se ne'er drink mair.
+
+    It's no I like to sit an' swallow,
+    Then like a swine to puke and wallow,
+    But gie me just a true good fellow,
+                      Wi' right ingine,
+    And spunkie ance to make us mellow,
+                      And then we'll shine.
+
+    Now if ye're ane o' warl's folk,
+    Wha rate the wearer by the cloak,
+    An' sklent on poverty their joke
+                      Wi' bitter sneer,
+    Wi' you nae friendship I will troke,
+                      Nor cheap nor dear.
+
+    But if, as I'm informed weel,
+    Ye hate as ill's the very deil
+    The flinty heart that canna feel--
+                      Come, Sir, here's tae you!
+    Hae, there's my haun, I wiss you weel,
+                      And gude be wi' you.
+
+ROBERT BURNESS.
+
+_Mossgiel, 3 March, 1786._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXVI.
+
+TO JOHN KENNEDY.
+
+
+    Farewell, dear friend! may guid luck hit you,
+    And 'mang her favourites admit you!
+    If e'er Detraction shore to smit you,
+                        May nane believe him!
+    And ony deil that thinks to get you,
+                        Good Lord deceive him!
+
+R. B.
+
+_Kilmarnock, August, 1786_
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXVII.
+
+[Cromek found these characteristic lines among the poet's papers.]
+
+
+    There's naethin like the honest nappy!
+    Whaur'll ye e'er see men sae happy,
+    Or women, sonsie, saft an' sappy,
+                      'Tween morn an' morn
+    As them wha like to taste the drappie
+                      In glass or horn?
+
+    I've seen me daezt upon a time;
+    I scarce could wink or see a styme;
+    Just ae hauf muchkin does me prime,
+                      Ought less is little,
+    Then back I rattle on the rhyme,
+                      As gleg's a whittle.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXVIII.
+
+ON THE BLANK LEAF
+
+OF A
+
+WORK BY HANNAH MORE.
+
+PRESENTED BY MRS C----.
+
+
+    Thou flattering work of friendship kind,
+    Still may thy pages call to mind
+        The dear, the beauteous donor;
+    Though sweetly female every part,
+    Yet such a head, and more the heart,
+        Does both the sexes honour.
+    She showed her taste refined and just,
+        When she selected thee,
+    Yet deviating, own I must,
+        For so approving me!
+          But kind still, I'll mind still
+            The giver in the gift;
+          I'll bless her, and wiss her
+            A Friend above the Lift.
+
+_Mossgiel, April_, 1786.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXIX.
+
+TO THE MEN AND BRETHREN
+
+OF THE
+
+MASONIC LODGE AT TARBOLTON.
+
+
+    Within your dear mansion may wayward contention
+      Or withering envy ne'er enter:
+    May secrecy round be the mystical bound,
+      And brotherly love be the centre.
+
+_Edinburgh_, 23 _August_, 1787.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXX.
+
+IMPROMPTU.
+
+[The tumbler on which these verses are inscribed by the diamond of
+Burns, found its way to the hands of Sir Walter Scott, and is now
+among the treasures of Abbotsford.]
+
+
+    You're welcome, Willie Stewart,
+    You're welcome, Willie Stewart;
+    There's ne'er a flower that blooms in May,
+    That's half sae welcome's thou art.
+
+    Come bumpers high, express your joy,
+      The bowl we maun renew it;
+    The tappit-hen, gae bring her ben,
+      To welcome Willie Stewart.
+
+    My foes be strang, and friends be slack,
+      Ilk action may he rue it,
+    May woman on him turn her back,
+      That wrongs thee, Willie Stewart.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXXI.
+
+PRAYER FOR ADAM ARMOUR.
+
+[The origin of this prayer is curious. In 1785, the maid-servant of an
+innkeeper at Mauchline, having been caught in what old ballad-makers
+delicately call "the deed of shame," Adam Armour, the brother of the
+poet's bonnie Jean, with one or two more of his comrades, executed a
+rustic act of justice upon her, by parading her perforce through the
+village, placed on a rough, unpruned piece of wood: an unpleasant
+ceremony, vulgarly called "Riding the Stang." This was resented by
+Geordie and Nanse, the girl's master and mistress; law was restored
+to, and as Adam had to hide till the matter was settled, he durst not
+venture home till late on the Saturday nights. In one of these
+home-comings he met Burns who laughed when he heard the story, and
+said, "You have need of some one to pray for you." "No one can do that
+better than yourself," was the reply, and this humorous intercession
+was made on the instant, and, as it is said, "clean off loof." From
+Adam Armour I obtained the verses, and when he wrote them out, he told
+the story in which the prayer originated.]
+
+
+    Lord, pity me, for I am little,
+    An elf of mischief and of mettle,
+    That can like ony wabster's shuttle,
+                      Jink there or here,
+    Though scarce as lang's a gude kale-whittle,
+                      I'm unco queer.
+
+    Lord pity now our waefu' case,
+    For Geordie's Jurr we're in disgrace,
+    Because we stang'd her through the place,
+                      'Mang hundreds laughin',
+    For which we daurna show our face
+                      Within the clachan.
+
+    And now we're dern'd in glens and hallows,
+    And hunted as was William Wallace,
+    By constables, those blackguard fellows,
+                      And bailies baith,
+    O Lord, preserve us frae the gallows!
+                      That cursed death.
+
+    Auld, grim, black-bearded Geordie's sel',
+    O shake him ewre the mouth o' hell,
+    And let him hing and roar and yell,
+                      Wi' hideous din,
+    And if he offers to rebel
+                      Just heave him in.
+
+    When Death comes in wi' glimmering blink,
+    And tips auld drunken Nanse the wink'
+    Gaur Satan gie her a--e a clink
+                      Behint his yett,
+    And fill her up wi' brimstone drink,
+                      Red reeking het!
+
+    There's Jockie and the hav'rel Jenny,
+    Some devil seize them in a hurry,
+    And waft them in th' infernal wherry,
+                      Straught through the lake,
+    And gie their hides a noble curry,
+                      Wi' oil of aik.
+
+    As for the lass, lascivious body,
+    She's had mischief enough already,
+    Weel stang'd by market, mill, and smiddie,
+                      She's suffer'd sair;
+    But may she wintle in a widdie,
+                      If she wh--re mair.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+SONGS AND BALLADS.
+
+
+[Illustration: HANDSOME NELL.]
+
+I.
+
+HANDSOME NELL.
+
+Tune.--"_I am a man unmarried."_
+
+["This composition," says Burns in his "Common-place Book," "was the
+first of my performances, and done at an early period in life, when my
+heart glowed with honest, warm simplicity; unacquainted and
+uncorrupted with the ways of a wicked world. The subject of it was a
+young girl who really deserved all the praises I have bestowed on
+her."]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O once I lov'd a bonnie lass,
+      Ay, and I love her still;
+    And whilst that honour warms my breast,
+      I'll love my handsome Nell.
+
+II.
+
+    As bonnie lasses I hae seen,
+      And mony full as braw;
+    But for a modest gracefu' mien
+      The like I never saw.
+
+III.
+
+    A bonnie lass, I will confess,
+      Is pleasant to the e'e,
+    But without some better qualities
+      She's no a lass for me.
+
+IV.
+
+    But Nelly's looks are blithe and sweet,
+      And what is best of a',
+    Her reputation is complete,
+      And fair without a flaw.
+
+V.
+
+    She dresses ay sae clean and neat,
+      Both decent and genteel:
+    And then there's something in her gait
+      Gars ony dress look weel.
+
+VI.
+
+    A gaudy dress and gentle air
+      May slightly touch the heart;
+    But it's innocence and modesty
+      That polishes the dart.
+
+VII.
+
+    'Tis this in Nelly pleases me,
+      'Tis this enchants my soul;
+    For absolutely in my breast
+      She reigns without control
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+II.
+
+LUCKLESS FORTUNE.
+
+[Those lines, as Burns informs us, were written to a tune of his own
+composing, consisting of three parts, and the words were the echo of
+the air.]
+
+
+    O raging fortune's withering blast
+      Has laid my leaf full low, O!
+    O raging fortune's withering blast
+      Has laid my leaf full low, O!
+    My stem was fair, my bud was green,
+      My blossom sweet did blow, O;
+    The dew fell fresh, the sun rose mild,
+      And made my branches grow, O.
+    But luckless fortune's northern storms
+      Laid a' my blossoms low, O;
+    But luckless fortune's northern storms
+      Laid a' my blossoms low, O.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+III.
+
+I DREAM'D I LAY.
+
+[These melancholy verses were written when the poet was some seventeen
+years old: his early days were typical of his latter.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    I dream'd I lay where flowers were springing
+      Gaily in the sunny beam;
+    List'ning to the wild birds singing,
+      By a falling crystal stream:
+    Straight the sky grew black and daring;
+      Thro' the woods the whirlwinds rave;
+    Trees with aged arms were warring.
+      O'er the swelling drumlie wave.
+
+II.
+
+    Such was my life's deceitful morning,
+      Such the pleasure I enjoy'd:
+    But lang or noon, loud tempests storming,
+      A' my flowery bliss destroy'd.
+    Tho' fickle fortune has deceiv'd me,
+      She promis'd fair, and perform'd but ill;
+    Of mony a joy and hope bereav'd me,
+      I bear a heart shall support me still.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+IV.
+
+TIBBIE, I HAE SEEN THE DAY.
+
+Tune--"_Invercald's Reel._"
+
+[The Tibbie who "spak na, but gaed by like stoure," was, it is said,
+the daughter of a man who was laird of three acres of peatmoss, and
+thought it became her to put on airs in consequence.]
+
+
+CHORUS.
+
+    O Tibbie, I hae seen the day,
+      Ye wad na been sae shy;
+    For lack o' gear ye lightly me,
+      But, trowth, I care na by.
+
+I.
+
+    Yestreen I met you on the moor,
+    Ye spak na, but gaed by like stoure;
+    Ye geck at me because I'm poor,
+      But fient a hair care I.
+
+II.
+
+    I doubt na, lass, but ye may think,
+    Because ye hae the name o' clink,
+    That ye can please me at a wink,
+      Whene'er ye like to try.
+
+III.
+
+    But sorrow tak him that's sae mean,
+    Altho' his pouch o' coin were clean,
+    Wha follows ony saucy quean,
+      That looks sae proud and high.
+
+IV.
+
+    Altho' a lad were e'er sae smart,
+    If that he want the yellow dirt,
+    Ye'll cast your head anither airt,
+      And answer him fu' dry.
+
+V.
+
+    But if he hae the name o' gear,
+    Ye'll fasten to him like a brier,
+    Tho' hardly he, for sense or lear,
+      Be better than the kye.
+
+VI.
+
+    But, Tibbie, lass, tak my advice,
+    Your daddie's gear maks you sae nice;
+    The deil a ane wad spier your price,
+      Were ye as poor as I.
+
+VII.
+
+    There lives a lass in yonder park,
+    I would nae gie her in her sark,
+    For thee, wi' a' thy thousan' mark;
+      Ye need na look sae high.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+V.
+
+MY FATHER WAS A FARMER.
+
+Tune--"_The Weaver and his Shuttle, O._"
+
+["The following song," says the poet, "is a wild rhapsody, miserably
+deficient in versification, but as the sentiments are the genuine
+feelings of my heart, for that reason I have a particular pleasure in
+conning it over."]
+
+
+I.
+
+    My father was a farmer
+      Upon the Carrick border, O,
+    And carefully he bred me,
+      In decency and order, O;
+    He bade me act a manly part,
+      Though I had ne'er a farthing, O;
+    For without an honest manly heart,
+      No man was worth regarding, O.
+
+II.
+
+    Then out into the world
+      My course I did determine, O;
+    Tho' to be rich was not my wish,
+      yet to be great was charming, O:
+    My talents they were not the worst,
+      Nor yet my education, O;
+    Resolv'd was I, at least to try,
+      To mend my situation, O.
+
+III.
+
+    In many a way, and vain essay,
+      I courted fortune's favour, O;
+    Some cause unseen still stept between,
+      To frustrate each endeavour, O:
+    Sometimes by foes I was o'erpower'd,
+      Sometimes by friends forsaken, O,
+    And when my hope was at the top,
+      I still was worst mistaken, O.
+
+IV.
+
+    Then sore harass'd, and tir'd at last,
+      With fortune's vain delusion, O,
+    I dropt my schemes, like idle dreams,
+      And came to this conclusion, O:
+    The past was bad, and the future hid;
+      Its good or ill untried, O;
+    But the present hour, was in my pow'r
+      And so I would enjoy it, O.
+
+V.
+
+    No help, nor hope, nor view had I,
+      Nor person to befriend me, O;
+    So I must toil, and sweat and broil,
+      And labour to sustain me, O:
+    To plough and sow, to reap and mow,
+      My father bred me early, O;
+    For one, he said, to labour bred,
+      Was a match for fortune fairly, O.
+
+VI.
+
+    Thus all obscure, unknown, and poor,
+      Thro' life I'm doom'd to wander, O,
+    Till down my weary bones I lay,
+      In everlasting slumber, O.
+    No view nor care, but shun whate'er
+      Might breed me pain or sorrow, O:
+    I live to-day as well's I may,
+      Regardless of to-morrow, O.
+
+VII.
+
+    But cheerful still, I am as well,
+      As a monarch in a palace, O,
+    Tho' Fortune's frown still hunts me down,
+      With all her wonted malice, O:
+    I make indeed my daily bread,
+      But ne'er can make it farther, O;
+    But, as daily bread is all I need,
+      I do not much regard her, O.
+
+VIII.
+
+    When sometimes by my labour
+      I earn a little money, O,
+    Some unforeseen misfortune
+      Comes gen'rally upon me, O:
+    Mischance, mistake, or by neglect,
+      Or my goodnatur'd folly, O;
+    But come what will, I've sworn it still,
+      I'll ne'er be melancholy, O.
+
+IX.
+
+    All you who follow wealth and power,
+      With unremitting ardour, O,
+    The more in this you look for bliss,
+      You leave your view the farther, O:
+    Had you the wealth Potosi boasts,
+      Or nations to adorn you, O,
+    A cheerful honest-hearted clown
+      I will prefer before you, O.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+VI.
+
+JOHN BARLEYCORN:
+
+A BALLAD.
+
+[Composed on the plan of an old song, of which David Laing has given
+an authentic version in his very curious volume of Metrical Tales.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    There were three kings into the east,
+      Three kings both great and high;
+    And they hae sworn a solemn oath
+      John Barleycorn should die.
+
+II.
+
+    They took a plough and plough'd him down,
+      Put clods upon his head;
+    And they ha'e sworn a solemn oath
+      John Barleycorn was dead.
+
+III.
+
+    But the cheerful spring came kindly on,
+      And show'rs began to fall;
+    John Barleycorn got up again,
+      And sore surpris'd them all.
+
+IV.
+
+    The sultry suns of summer came,
+      And he grew thick and strong;
+    His head weel arm'd wi' pointed spears
+      That no one should him wrong.
+
+V.
+
+    The sober autumn enter'd mild,
+      When he grew wan and pale;
+    His beading joints and drooping head
+      Show'd he began to fail.
+
+VI.
+
+    His colour sicken'd more and more,
+      He faded into age;
+    And then his enemies began
+      To show their deadly rage.
+
+VII.
+
+    They've ta'en a weapon, long and sharp,
+      And cut him by the knee;
+    Then ty'd him fast upon a cart,
+      Like a rogue for forgerie.
+
+VIII.
+
+    They laid him down upon his back,
+      And cudgell'd him full sore;
+    They hung him up before the storm.
+      And turn'd him o'er and o'er.
+
+IX.
+
+    They filled up a darksome pit
+      With water to the brim;
+    They heaved in John Barleycorn,
+      There let him sink or swim.
+
+X.
+
+    They laid him out upon the floor,
+      To work him farther woe;
+    And still, as signs of life appear'd,
+      They toss'd him to and fro.
+
+XI.
+
+    They wasted o'er a scorching flame
+      The marrow of his bones;
+    But a miller us'd him worst of all--
+      He crush'd him 'tween the stones.
+
+XII.
+
+    And they ha'e ta'en his very heart's blood,
+      And drank it round and round;
+    And still the more and more they drank,
+      Their joy did more abound.
+
+XIII.
+
+    John Barleycorn was a hero bold,
+      Of noble enterprise;
+    For if you do but taste his blood,
+      'Twill make your courage rise.
+
+XIV.
+
+    'Twill make a man forget his woe;
+      'Twill heighten all his joy:
+    'Twill make the widow's heart to sing,
+      Tho' the tear were in her eye.
+
+XV.
+
+    Then let us toast John Barleycorn,
+      Each man a glass in hand;
+    And may his great posterity
+      Ne'er fail in old Scotland!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+VII.
+
+THE RIGS O' BARLEY.
+
+Tune--"_Corn rigs are bonnie."_
+
+[Two young women of the west, Anne Ronald and Anne Blair, have each,
+by the district traditions, been claimed as the heroine of this early
+song.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    It was upon a Lammas night,
+      When corn rigs are bonnie,
+    Beneath the moon's unclouded light,
+      I held awa to Annie:
+    The time flew by wi' tentless heed,
+      'Till 'tween the late and early,
+    Wi' sma' persuasion she agreed,
+      To see me through the barley.
+
+II.
+
+    The sky was blue, the wind was still,
+      The moon was shining clearly;
+    I set her down wi' right good will,
+      Amang the rigs o' barley:
+    I ken't her heart was a' my ain;
+      I lov'd her most sincerely;
+    I kiss'd her owre and owre again,
+      Amang the rigs o' barley.
+
+III.
+
+    I lock'd her in my fond embrace!
+      Her heart was beating rarely:
+    My blessings on that happy place.
+      Amang the rigs o' barley!
+    But by the moon and stars so bright.
+      That shone that hour so clearly?
+    She ay shall bless that happy night,
+      Amang the rigs o' barley!
+
+IV.
+
+    I hae been blithe wi' comrades dear;
+      I hae been merry drinkin';
+    I hae been joyfu' gath'rin' gear;
+      I hae been happy thinkin':
+    But a' the pleasures e'er I saw,
+      Tho' three times doubled fairly,
+    That happy night was worth them a',
+      Amang the rigs o' barley.
+
+CHORUS.
+
+    Corn rigs, an' barley rigs,
+      An' corn rigs are bonnie:
+    I'll ne'er forget that happy night,
+      Amang the rigs wi' Annie.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+VIII.
+
+MONTGOMERY'S PEGGY.
+
+Tune--"_Galla-Water."_
+
+["My Montgomery's Peggy," says Burns, "was my deity for six or eight
+months: she had been bred in a style of life rather elegant: it cost
+me some heart-aches to get rid of the affair." The young lady listened
+to the eloquence of the poet, poured out in many an interview, and
+then quietly told him that she stood unalterably engaged to another.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Altho' my bed were in yon muir,
+      Amang the heather, in my plaidie,
+    Yet happy, happy would I be,
+      Had I my dear Montgomery's Peggy.
+
+II.
+
+    When o'er the hill beat surly storms,
+      And winter nights were dark and rainy;
+    I'd seek some dell, and in my arms
+      I'd shelter dear Montgomery's Peggy.
+
+III.
+
+    Were I a baron proud and high,
+      And horse and servants waiting ready,
+    Then a' 'twad gie o' joy to me,
+      The sharin't with Montgomery's Peggy.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+IX.
+
+THE MAUCHLINE LADY.
+
+Tune--"_I had a horse, I had nae mair._"
+
+[The Mauchline lady who won the poet's heart was Jean Armour: she
+loved to relate how the bard made her acquaintance: his dog run across
+some linen webs which she was bleaching among Mauchline gowans, and he
+apologized so handsomely that she took another look at him. To this
+interview the world owes some of our most impassioned strains.]
+
+
+    When first I came to Stewart Kyle,
+      My mind it was nae steady;
+    Where'er I gaed, where'er I rade,
+      A mistress still I had ay:
+    But when I came roun' by Mauchline town,
+      Not dreadin' any body,
+    My heart was caught before I thought,
+      And by a Mauchline lady.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+X.
+
+THE HIGHLAND LASSIE.
+
+Tune--"_The deuks dang o'er my daddy_!"
+
+["The Highland Lassie" was Mary Campbell, whose too early death the
+poet sung in strains that will endure while the language lasts. "She
+was," says Burns, "a warm-hearted, charming young creature as ever
+blessed a man with generous love."]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Nae gentle dames, tho' e'er sae fair,
+    Shall ever be my muse's care:
+    Their titles a' are empty show;
+    Gie me my Highland lassie, O.
+        Within the glen sae bushy, O,
+        Aboon the plains sae rushy, O,
+        I set me down wi' right good-will,
+        To sing my Highland lassie, O.
+
+II.
+
+    Oh, were yon hills and valleys mine,
+    Yon palace and yon gardens fine,
+    The world then the love should know
+    I bear my Highland lassie, O.
+
+III.
+
+    But fickle fortune frowns on me,
+    And I maun cross the raging sea;
+    But while my crimson currents flow,
+    I'll love my Highland lassie, O.
+
+IV.
+
+    Altho' thro' foreign climes I range,
+    I know her heart will never change,
+    For her bosom burns with honour's glow,
+    My faithful Highland lassie, O.
+
+V.
+
+    For her I'll dare the billows' roar,
+    For her I'll trace a distant shore,
+    That Indian wealth may lustre throw
+    Around my Highland lassie, O.
+
+VI.
+
+    She has my heart, she has my hand,
+    by sacred truth and honour's band!
+    'Till the mortal stroke shall lay me low,
+    I'm thine, my Highland lassie, O.
+        Farewell the glen sae bushy, O!
+        Farewell the plain sae rushy, O!
+        To other lands I now must go,
+        To sing my Highland lassie, O.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XI.
+
+PEGGY.
+
+[The heroine of this song is said to have been "Montgomery's Peggy."]
+
+Tune--"_I had a horse, I had nae mair._"
+
+
+I.
+
+    Now westlin winds and slaughtering guns
+      Bring autumn's pleasant weather;
+    The moor-cock springs, on whirring wings,
+      Amang the blooming heather:
+    Now waving grain, wide o'er the plain,
+      Delights the weary farmer;
+    And the moon shines bright, when I rove at night
+      To muse upon my charmer.
+
+II.
+
+    The partridge loves the fruitful fells;
+      The plover loves the mountains;
+    The woodcock haunts the lonely dells;
+      The soaring hern the fountains;
+    Thro' lofty groves the cushat roves
+      The path of man to shun it;
+    The hazel bush o'erhangs the thrush,
+      The spreading thorn the linnet.
+
+III.
+
+    Thus ev'ry kind their pleasure find,
+      The savage and the tender;
+    Some social join, and leagues combine;
+      Some solitary wander:
+    Avaunt, away! the cruel sway,
+      Tyrannic man's dominion;
+    The sportsman's joy, the murd'ring cry,
+      The flutt'ring, gory pinion.
+
+IV.
+
+    But Peggy, dear, the ev'ning's clear,
+      Thick flies the skimming swallow;
+    The sky is blue, the fields in view,
+      All fading-green and yellow:
+    Come, let us stray our gladsome way,
+      And view the charms of nature;
+    The rustling corn, the fruited thorn,
+      And every happy creature.
+
+V.
+
+    We'll gently walk, and sweetly talk,
+      Till the silent moon shine clearly;
+    I'll grasp thy waist, and, fondly prest,
+      Swear how I love thee dearly:
+    Not vernal show'rs to budding flow'rs,
+      Not autumn to the farmer,
+    So dear can be as thou to me,
+      My fair, my lovely charmer!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XII.
+
+THE RANTIN' DOG, THE DADDIE O'T.
+
+Tune--"_East nook o' Fife._"
+
+[The heroine of this humorous ditty was the mother of "Sonsie,
+smirking, dear-bought Bess," a person whom the poet regarded, as he
+says, both for her form and her grace.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O wha my babie-clouts will buy?
+    O wha will tent me when I cry?
+    Wha will kiss me where I lie?--
+      The rantin' dog, the daddie o't.
+
+II.
+
+    O wha will own he did the fau't?
+    O wha will buy the groanin' maut?
+    O wha will tell me how to ca't?
+      The rantin' dog, the daddie o't.
+
+III.
+
+    When I mount the creepie chair,
+    Wha will sit beside me there?
+    Gie me Rob, I'll seek nae mair,
+      The rantin' dog, the daddie o't.
+
+IV.
+
+    Wha will crack to me my lane?
+    Wha will make me fidgin' fain?
+    Wha will kiss me o'er again?--
+      The rantin' dog, the daddie o't.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XIII.
+
+MY HEART WAS ANCE.
+
+Tune--"_To the weavers gin ye go._"
+
+["The chorus of this song," says Burns, in his note to the Museum, "is
+old, the rest is mine." The "bonnie, westlin weaver lad" is said to
+have been one of the rivals of the poet in the affection of a west
+landlady.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    My heart was ance as blythe and free
+      As simmer days were lang,
+    But a bonnie, westlin weaver lad
+      Has gart me change my sang.
+        To the weavers gin ye go, fair maids,
+          To the weavers gin ye go;
+        I rede you right gang ne'er at night,
+          To the weavers gin ye go.
+
+II.
+
+    My mither sent me to the town,
+      To warp a plaiden wab;
+    But the weary, weary warpin o't
+      Has gart me sigh and sab.
+
+III.
+
+    A bonnie westlin weaver lad,
+      Sat working at his loom;
+    He took my heart as wi' a net,
+      In every knot and thrum.
+
+IV.
+
+    I sat beside my warpin-wheel,
+      And ay I ca'd it roun';
+    But every shot and every knock,
+      My heart it gae a stoun.
+
+V.
+
+    The moon was sinking in the west
+      Wi' visage pale and wan,
+    As my bonnie westlin weaver lad
+      Convoy'd me thro' the glen.
+
+VI.
+
+    But what was said, or what was done,
+      Shame fa' me gin I tell;
+    But, oh! I fear the kintra soon
+      Will ken as weel's mysel.
+        To the weavers gin ye go, fair maids,
+          To the weavers gin ye go;
+        I rede you right gang ne'er at night,
+          To the weavers gin ye go.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XIV.
+
+NANNIE.
+
+Tune--"_My Nannie, O._"
+
+[Agnes Fleming, servant at Calcothill, inspired this fine song: she
+died at an advanced age, and was more remarkable for the beauty of her
+form than face. When questioned about the love of Burns, she smiled
+and said, "Aye, atweel he made a great wark about me."]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Behind yon hills, where Lugar flows,
+      'Mang moors an' mosses many, O,
+    The wintry sun the day has closed,
+      And I'll awa to Nannie, O.
+
+II.
+
+    The westlin wind blaws loud an' shrill;
+      The night's baith mirk and rainy, O;
+    But I'll get my plaid, an' out I'll steal,
+      An' owre the hills to Nannie, O.
+
+III.
+
+    My Nannie's charming, sweet, an' young;
+      Nae artfu' wiles to win ye, O:
+    May ill befa' the flattering tongue
+      That wad beguile my Nannie, O.
+
+IV.
+
+    Her face is fair, her heart is true,
+      As spotless as she's bonnie, O:
+    The op'ning gowan, wat wi' dew,
+      Nae purer is than Nannie, O.
+
+V.
+
+    A country lad is my degree,
+      An' few there be that ken me, O;
+    But what care I how few they be?
+      I'm welcome ay to Nannie, O.
+
+VI.
+
+    My riches a's my penny-fee,
+      An' I maun guide it cannie, O;
+    But warl's gear ne'er troubles me,
+      My thoughts are a' my Nannie, O.
+
+VII.
+
+    Our auld guidman delights to view
+      His sheep an' kye thrive bonnie, O;
+    But I'm as blythe that hauds his pleugh,
+      An' has nae care but Nannie, O.
+
+VIII.
+
+    Come weel, come woe, I care na by,
+      I'll tak what Heav'n will sen' me, O:
+    Nae ither care in life have I,
+      But live, an' love my Nannie, O.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XV.
+
+A FRAGMENT.
+
+Tune--"_John Anderson my jo._"
+
+[This verse, written early, and probably intended for the starting
+verse of a song, was found among the papers of the poet.]
+
+
+    One night as I did wander,
+      When corn begins to shoot,
+    I sat me down to ponder,
+      Upon an auld tree root:
+    Auld Ayr ran by before me,
+      And bicker'd to the seas;
+    A cushat crooded o'er me,
+      That echoed thro' the braes.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XVI.
+
+BONNIE PEGGY ALISON.
+
+Tune--"_Braes o' Balquihidder._"
+
+[On those whom Burns loved, he poured out songs without limit. Peggy
+Alison is said, by a western tradition, to be Montgomery's Peggy, but
+this seems doubtful.]
+
+
+CHORUS.
+
+    I'll kiss thee yet, yet,
+      An' I'll kiss thee o'er again;
+    An' I'll kiss thee yet, yet,
+      My bonnie Peggy Alison!
+
+I.
+
+    Ilk care and fear, when thou art near,
+      I ever mair defy them, O;
+    Young kings upon their hansel throne
+      Are no sae blest as I am, O!
+
+II.
+
+    When in my arms, wi' a' thy charms,
+      I clasp my countless treasure, O,
+    I seek nae mair o' Heaven to share
+      Than sic a moment's pleasure, O!
+
+III.
+
+    And by thy een, sae bonnie blue,
+      I swear, I'm thine for ever, O!--
+    And on thy lips I seal my vow,
+        And break it shall I never, O!
+          I'll kiss thee yet, yet,
+            An' I'll kiss thee o'er again;
+          An' I'll kiss thee yet, yet,
+            My bonnie Peggy Alison!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XVII.
+
+THERE'S NOUGHT BUT CARE.
+
+Tune--"_Green grow the rashes._"
+
+["Man was made when nature was but an apprentice; but woman is the
+last and most perfect work of nature," says an old writer, in a rare
+old book: a passage which expresses the sentiment of Burns; yet it is
+all but certain, that the Ploughman Bard was unacquainted with
+"Cupid's Whirlygig," where these words are to be found.]
+
+
+CHORUS.
+
+    Green grow the rashes, O!
+      Green grow the rashes, O!
+    The sweetest hours that e'er I spend
+      Are spent amang the lasses, O.
+
+I.
+
+    There's nought but care on ev'ry han',
+      In every hour that passes, O:
+    What signifies the life o' man,
+      An' 'twere na for the lasses, O.
+
+II.
+
+    The warly race may riches chase,
+      An' riches still may fly them, O;
+    An' tho' at last they catch them fast,
+      Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, O.
+
+III.
+
+    But gie me a canny hour at e'en,
+      My arms about my dearie, O;
+    An' warly cares, an' warly men,
+      May a' gae tapsalteerie, O.
+
+IV.
+
+    For you sae douce, ye sneer at this,
+      Ye're nought but senseless asses, O:
+    The wisest man the warl' e'er saw,
+      He dearly lov'd the lasses, O.
+
+V.
+
+    Auld Nature swears the lovely dears
+      Her noblest work she classes, O:
+    Her 'prentice han' she try'd on man,
+      An' then she made the lasses, O.
+        Green grow the rashes, O!
+          Green grow the rashes, O!
+        The sweetest hours that e'er I spend
+          Are spent amang the lasses, O.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XVIII.
+
+MY JEAN!
+
+Tune--"_The Northern Lass._"
+
+[The lady on whom this passionate verse was written was Jean Armour.]
+
+
+    Though cruel fate should bid us part,
+      Far as the pole and line,
+    Her dear idea round my heart,
+      Should tenderly entwine.
+    Though mountains rise, and deserts howl,
+      And oceans roar between;
+    Yet, dearer than my deathless soul,
+      I still would love my Jean
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XIX.
+
+ROBIN.
+
+Tune--"_Daintie Davie._"
+
+[Stothard painted a clever little picture from this characteristic
+ditty: the cannie wife, it was evident, saw in Robin's palm something
+which tickled her, and a curious intelligence sparkled in the eyes of
+her gossips.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    There was a lad was born in Kyle,
+    But whatna day o' whatna style
+    I doubt it's hardly worth the while
+      To be sae nice wi' Robin.
+        Robin was a rovin' boy,
+          Rantin' rovin', rantin' rovin';
+        Robin was a rovin' boy,
+          Rantin' rovin' Robin!
+
+II.
+
+    Our monarch's hindmost year but ane
+    Was five-and-twenty days begun,
+    Twas then a blast o' Janwar win'
+      Blew hansel in on Robin.
+
+III.
+
+    The gossip keekit in his loof,
+    Quo' she, wha lives will see the proof.
+    This waly boy will be nae coof,
+      I think we'll ca' him Robin
+
+IV.
+
+    He'll hae misfortunes great and sma',
+    But ay a heart aboon them a';
+    He'll be a credit to us a',
+      We'll a' be proud o' Robin.
+
+V.
+
+    But sure as three times three mak nine,
+    I see by ilka score and line,
+    This chap will dearly like our kin',
+      So leeze me on thee, Robin.
+
+VI.
+
+    Guid faith, quo' she, I doubt you gar,
+    The bonnie lasses lie aspar,
+    But twenty fauts ye may hae waur,
+      So blessin's on thee, Robin!
+        Robin was a rovin' boy,
+          Rantin' rovin', rantin' rovin';
+        Robin was a rovin' boy,
+          Rantin' rovin' Robin!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XX.
+
+HER FLOWING LOCKS.
+
+Tune--(unknown.)
+
+[One day--it is tradition that speaks--Burns had his foot in the
+stirrup to return from Ayr to Mauchline, when a young lady of great
+beauty rode up to the inn, and ordered refreshments for her servants;
+he made these lines at the moment, to keep, he said, so much beauty in
+his memory.]
+
+
+    Her flowing locks, the raven's wing,
+    Adown her neck and bosom hing;
+    How sweet unto that breast to cling,
+      And round that neck entwine her!
+    Her lips are roses wat wi' dew,
+    O, what a feast her bonnie mou'!
+    Her cheeks a mair celestial hue,
+      A crimson still diviner.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXI.
+
+O LEAVE NOVELS.
+
+Tune--"_ Mauchline belles._"
+
+[Who these Mauchline belles were the bard in other verse informs us:--
+
+    "Miss Miller is fine, Miss Markland's divine,
+      Miss Smith, she has wit, and Miss Betty is braw;
+    There's beauty and fortune to get with Miss Morton,
+      But Armour's the jewel for me o' them a'."]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O leave novels, ye Mauchline belles,
+      Ye're safer at your spinning-wheel;
+    Such witching books are baited hooks
+      For rakish rooks, like Rob Mossgiel.
+
+II.
+
+    Your fine Tom Jones and Grandisons,
+      They make your youthful fancies reel;
+    They heat your brains, and fire your veins,
+      And then you're prey for Rob Mossgiel.
+
+III.
+
+    Beware a tongue that's smoothly hung,
+      A heart that warmly seems to feel;
+    That feeling heart but acts a part--
+      'Tis rakish art in Rob Mossgiel.
+
+IV.
+
+    The frank address, the soft caress,
+      Are worse than poison'd darts of steel;
+    The frank address and politesse
+      Are all finesse in Rob Mossgiel.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXII.
+
+YOUNG PEGGY.
+
+Tune--"_Last time I cam o'er the muir._"
+
+[In these verses Burns, it is said, bade farewell to one on whom he
+had, according to his own account, wasted eights months of courtship.
+We hear no more of Montgomery's Peggy.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Young Peggy blooms our bonniest lass,
+      Her blush is like the morning,
+    The rosy dawn, the springing grass,
+      With early gems adorning:
+    Her eyes outshone the radiant beams
+      That gild the passing shower,
+    And glitter o'er the crystal streams,
+      And cheer each fresh'ning flower.
+
+II.
+
+    Her lips, more than the cherries bright,
+      A richer dye has graced them;
+    They charm th' admiring gazer's sight,
+      And sweetly tempt to taste them:
+    Her smile is, as the evening mild,
+      When feather'd tribes are courting,
+    And little lambkins wanton wild,
+      In playful bands disporting.
+
+III.
+
+    Were fortune lovely Peggy's foe,
+      Such sweetness would relent her,
+    As blooming spring unbends the brow
+      Of surly, savage winter.
+    Detraction's eye no aim can gain,
+      Her winning powers to lessen;
+    And fretful envy grins in vain
+      The poison'd tooth to fasten.
+
+IV.
+
+    Ye powers of honour, love, and truth,
+      From every ill defend her;
+    Inspire the highly-favour'd youth,
+      The destinies intend her:
+    Still fan the sweet connubial flame
+      Responsive in each bosom,
+    And bless the dear parental name
+      With many a filial blossom.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXIII.
+
+THE CURE FOR ALL CARE.
+
+Tune--"_Prepare, my dear brethren, to the tavern_ _let's fly._"
+
+[Tarbolton Lodge, of which the poet was a member, was noted for its
+socialities. Masonic lyrics are all of a dark and mystic order; and
+those of Burns are scarcely an exception.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    No churchman am I for to rail and to write,
+    No statesman nor soldier to plot or to fight,
+    No sly man of business, contriving to snare--
+    For a big-bellied bottle's the whole of my care.
+
+II.
+
+    The peer I don't envy, I give him his bow;
+    I scorn not the peasant, tho' ever so low;
+    But a club of good fellows, like those that are here,
+    And a bottle like this, are my glory and care.
+
+III.
+
+    Here passes the squire on his brother--his horse;
+    There centum per centum, the cit with his purse;
+    But see you The Crown, how it waves in the air!
+    There a big-bellied bottle still eases my care.
+
+IV.
+
+    The wife of my bosom, alas! she did die;
+    For sweet consolation to church I did fly;
+    I found that old Solomon proved it fair,
+    That a big-bellied bottle's a cure for all care.
+
+V.
+
+    I once was persuaded a venture to make;
+    A letter inform'd me that all was to wreck;--
+    But the pursy old landlord just waddled up stairs,
+    With a glorious bottle that ended my cares.
+
+VI.
+
+    "Life's cares they are comforts,"[136]--a maxim laid down
+    By the bard, what d'ye call him, that wore the black gown;
+    And faith I agree with th' old prig to a hair;
+    For a big-bellied bottle's a heav'n of care.
+
+VII.
+
+ADDED IN A MASON LODGE.
+
+    Then fill up a bumper and make it o'erflow.
+    The honours masonic prepare for to throw;
+    May every true brother of the compass and square
+    Have a big-bellied bottle when harass'd with care!
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 136: Young's Night Thoughts.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXIV.
+
+ELIZA.
+
+Tune--"_Gilderoy._"
+
+[My late excellent friend, John Galt, informed me that the Eliza of
+this song was his relative, and that her name was Elizabeth Barbour.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    From thee, Eliza, I must go,
+      And from my native shore;
+    The cruel Fates between us throw
+      A boundless ocean's roar:
+    But boundless oceans roaring wide
+      Between my love and me,
+    They never, never can divide
+      My heart and soul from thee!
+
+II.
+
+    Farewell, farewell, Eliza dear,
+      The maid that I adore!
+    A boding voice is in mine ear,
+      We part to meet no more!
+    The latest throb that leaves my heart,
+      While death stands victor by,
+    That throb, Eliza, is thy part,
+      And thine that latest sigh!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXV.
+
+THE SONS OF OLD KILLIE.
+
+Tune--"_Shawnboy."_
+
+["This song, wrote by Mr. Burns, was sung by him in the
+Kilmarnock-Kilwinning Lodge, in 1786, and given by him to Mr. Parker,
+who was Master of the Lodge." These interesting words are on the
+original, in the poet's handwriting, in the possession of Mr. Gabriel
+Neil, of Glasgow.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Ye sons of old Killie, assembled by Willie,
+      To follow the noble vocation;
+    Your thrifty old mother has scarce such another
+      To sit in that honoured station.
+    I've little to say, but only to pray,
+      As praying's the ton of your fashion;
+    A prayer from the muse you well may excuse,
+      'Tis seldom her favourite passion.
+
+II.
+
+    Ye powers who preside o'er the wind and the tide,
+      Who marked each element's border;
+    Who formed this frame with beneficent aim,
+      Whose sovereign statute is order;
+    Within this dear mansion, may wayward contention
+      Or withered envy ne'er enter;
+    May secrecy round be the mystical bound,
+      And brotherly love be the centre.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXVI.
+
+MENIE.
+
+Tune.--"_Johnny's grey breeks._"
+
+[Of the lady who inspired this song no one has given any account: It
+first appeared in the second edition of the poet's works, and as the
+chorus was written by an Edinburgh gentleman, it has been surmised
+that the song was a matter of friendship rather than of the heart.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Again rejoicing nature sees
+      Her robe assume its vernal hues,
+    Her leafy locks wave in the breeze,
+      All freshly steep'd in morning dews.
+        And maun I still on Menie doat,
+          And bear the scorn that's in her e'e?
+        For it's jet, jet black, an' it's like a hawk,
+          An' it winna let a body be.
+
+II.
+
+    In vain to me the cowslips blaw,
+      In vain to me the vi'lets spring;
+    In vain to me, in glen or shaw,
+      The mavis and the lintwhite sing.
+
+III.
+
+    The merry plough-boy cheers his team,
+      Wi' joy the tentie seedsman stalks;
+    But life to me's a weary dream,
+      A dream of ane that never wauks.
+
+IV.
+
+    The wanton coot the water skims,
+      Amang the reeds the ducklings cry,
+    The stately swan majestic swims,
+      And every thing is blest but I.
+
+V.
+
+    The sheep-herd steeks his faulding slap,
+      And owre the moorland whistles shrill;
+    Wi' wild, unequal, wand'ring step,
+      I meet him on the dewy hill.
+
+VI.
+
+    And when the lark, 'tween light and dark,
+      Blythe waukens by the daisy's side,
+    And mounts and sings on flittering wings,
+      A woe-worn ghaist I hameward glide.
+
+VII.
+
+    Come, Winter, with thine angry howl,
+      And raging bend the naked tree:
+    Thy gloom will sooth my cheerless soul,
+      When nature all is sad like me!
+        And maun I still on Menie doat,
+          And bear the scorn that's in her e'e?
+        For it's jet, jet black, an' it's like a hawk,
+          An' it winna let a body be.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXVII.
+
+THE FAREWELL
+
+TO THE
+
+BRETHREN OF ST. JAMES'S LODGE,
+
+TARBOLTON.
+
+Tune--"_Good-night, and joy be wi' you a'._"
+
+[Burns, it is said, sung this song in the St. James's Lodge of
+Tarbolton, when his chest was on the way to Greenock: men are yet
+living who had the honour of hearing him--the concluding verse
+affected the whole lodge.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Adieu! a heart-warm, fond adieu!
+      Dear brothers of the mystic tie!
+    Ye favour'd, ye enlighten'd few,
+      Companions of my social joy!
+    Tho' I to foreign lands must hie,
+      Pursuing Fortune's slidd'ry ba',
+    With melting heart, and brimful eye,
+      I'll mind you still, tho' far awa'.
+
+II.
+
+    Oft have I met your social band,
+      And spent the cheerful, festive night;
+    Oft honour'd with supreme command,
+      Presided o'er the sons of light:
+    And by that hieroglyphic bright,
+      Which none but craftsmen ever saw!
+    Strong mem'ry on my heart shall write
+      Those happy scenes when far awa'.
+
+III.
+
+    May freedom, harmony, and love
+      Unite you in the grand design,
+    Beneath th' Omniscient Eye above,
+      The glorious architect divine!
+    That you may keep th' unerring line,
+      Still rising by the plummet's law,
+    Till order bright completely shine,
+      Shall be my pray'r when far awa'.
+
+IV.
+
+    And you farewell! whose merits claim,
+      Justly, that highest badge to wear!
+    Heav'n bless your honour'd, noble name,
+      To masonry and Scotia dear!
+    A last request permit me here,
+      When yearly ye assemble a',
+    One round--I ask it with a tear,--
+      To him, the Bard that's far awa'.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXVIII.
+
+ON CESSNOCK BANKS.
+
+Tune--"_If he be a butcher neat and trim._"
+
+[There are many variations of this song, which was first printed by
+Cromek from the oral communication of a Glasgow Lady, on whose charms,
+the poet, in early life, composed it.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    On Cessnock banks a lassie dwells;
+      Could I describe her shape and mien;
+    Our lasses a' she far excels,
+      An she has twa sparkling roguish een.
+
+II.
+
+    She's sweeter than the morning dawn
+      When rising Phoebus first is seen,
+    And dew-drops twinkle o'er the lawn;
+      An' she has twa sparkling roguish een
+
+III.
+
+    She's stately like yon youthful ash,
+      That grows the cowslip braes between,
+    And drinks the stream with vigour fresh;
+      An' she has twa sparkling roguish een.
+
+IV.
+
+    She's spotless like the flow'ring thorn,
+      With flow'rs so white and leaves so green,
+    When purest in the dewy morn;
+      An' she has twa sparkling roguish een.
+
+V.
+
+    Her looks are like the vernal May,
+      When evening Phoebus shines serene,
+    While birds rejoice on every spray--
+      An' she has twa sparkling roguish een.
+
+VI.
+
+    Her hair is like the curling mist
+      That climbs the mountain-sides at e'en,
+    When flow'r-reviving rains are past;
+      An' she has twa sparkling roguish een.
+
+VII.
+
+    Her forehead's like the show'ry bow,
+      When gleaming sunbeams intervene,
+    And gild the distant mountain's brow;
+      An' she has twa sparkling roguish een.
+
+VIII.
+
+    Her cheeks are like yon crimson gem,
+      The pride of all the flow'ry scene,
+    Just opening on its thorny stem;
+      An' she has twa sparkling roguish een.
+
+IX.
+
+    Her teeth are like the nightly snow
+      When pale the morning rises keen,
+    While hid the murmuring streamlets flow;
+      An' she has twa sparkling roguish een
+
+X.
+
+    Her lips are like yon cherries ripe,
+      That sunny walls from Boreas screen--
+    They tempt the taste and charm the sight;
+      An' she has twa, sparkling roguish een.
+
+XI.
+
+    Her teeth are like a flock of sheep,
+      With fleeces newly washen clean,
+    That slowly mount the rising steep;
+      An' she has twa glancin' roguish een.
+
+XII.
+
+    Her breath is like the fragrant breeze
+      That gently stirs the blossom'd bean,
+    When Phoebus sinks behind the seas;
+      An' she has twa sparkling roguish een.
+
+XIII.
+
+    Her voice is like the ev'ning thrush
+      That sings on Cessnock banks unseen,
+    While his mate sits nestling in the bush;
+      An' she has twa sparkling roguish een.
+
+XIV.
+
+    But it's not her air, her form, her face,
+      Tho' matching beauty's fabled queen,
+    'Tis the mind that shines in ev'ry grace,
+      An' chiefly in her roguish een.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXIX.
+
+MARY!
+
+Tune--"_Blue Bonnets._"
+
+[In the original manuscript Burns calls this song "A Prayer for Mary;"
+his Highland Mary is supposed to be the inspirer.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Powers celestial! whose protection
+      Ever guards the virtuous fair,
+    While in distant climes I wander,
+      Let my Mary be your care:
+    Let her form sae fair and faultless,
+      Fair and faultless as your own,
+    Let my Mary's kindred spirit
+      Draw your choicest influence down.
+
+II.
+
+    Make the gales you waft around her
+      Soft and peaceful as her breast;
+    Breathing in the breeze that fans her,
+      Soothe her bosom into rest:
+    Guardian angels! O protect her,
+      When in distant lands I roam;
+    To realms unknown while fate exiles me,
+      Make her bosom still my home.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXX.
+
+THE LASS OF BALLOCHMYLE.
+
+Tune--"_Miss Forbes's Farewell to Banff._"
+
+[Miss Alexander, of Ballochmyle, as the poet tells her in a letter,
+dated November, 1786, inspired this popular song. He chanced to meet
+her in one of his favourite walks on the banks of the Ayr, and the
+fine scene and the lovely lady set the muse to work. Miss Alexander,
+perhaps unaccustomed to this forward wooing of the muse, allowed the
+offering to remain unnoticed for a time: it is now in a costly frame,
+and hung in her chamber--as it deserves to be.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    'Twas even--the dewy fields were green,
+      On every blade the pearls hang,
+    The zephyr wanton'd round the bean,
+      And bore its fragrant sweets alang:
+    In ev'ry glen the mavis sang,
+      All nature listening seem'd the while,
+    Except where greenwood echoes rang
+      Amang the braes o' Ballochmyle!
+
+II.
+
+    With careless step I onward stray'd,
+      My heart rejoic'd in nature's joy,
+    When musing in a lonely glade,
+      A maiden fair I chanc'd to spy;
+    Her look was like the morning's eye,
+      Her air like nature's vernal smile,
+    Perfection whisper'd passing by,
+      Behold the lass o' Ballochmyle!
+
+III.
+
+    Fair is the morn in flow'ry May,
+      And sweet is night in autumn mild
+    When roving thro' the garden gay,
+      Or wand'ring in the lonely wild;
+    But woman, nature's darling child!
+      There all her charms she does compile;
+    Even there her other works are foil'd
+      By the bonnie lass o' Ballochmyle.
+
+IV.
+
+    O, had she been a country maid,
+      And I the happy country swain,
+    Tho' shelter'd in the lowest shed
+      That ever rose on Scotland's plain,
+    Thro' weary winter's wind and rain,
+      With joy, with rapture, I would toil;
+    And nightly to my bosom strain
+      The bonnie lass of Ballochmyle.
+
+V.
+
+    Then pride might climb the slippery steep,
+      Where fame and honours lofty shine:
+    And thirst of gold might tempt the deep
+      Or downward seek the Indian mine;
+    Give me the cot below the pine,
+      To tend the flocks, or till the soil,
+    And ev'ry day have joys divine
+      With the bonnie lass o' Ballochmyle.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXXI.
+
+THE GLOOMY NIGHT.
+
+Tune--"_Roslin Castle._"
+
+["I had taken," says Burns, "the last farewell of my friends, my chest
+was on the road to Greenock, and I had composed the last song I should
+ever measure in Caledonia--
+
+    'The gloomy night is gathering fast.'"]
+
+
+I.
+
+    The gloomy night is gath'ring fast,
+    Loud roars the wild inconstant blast;
+    Yon murky cloud is foul with rain,
+    I see it driving o'er the plain;
+    The hunter now has left the moor,
+    The scatter'd coveys meet secure;
+    While here I wander, prest with care,
+    Along the lonely banks of Ayr.
+
+II.
+
+    The Autumn mourns her rip'ning corn,
+    By early Winter's ravage torn;
+    Across her placid, azure sky,
+    She sees the scowling tempest fly:
+    Chill runs my blood to hear it rave--
+    I think upon the stormy wave,
+    Where many a danger I must dare,
+    Far from the bonnie banks of Ayr.
+
+III.
+
+    'Tis not the surging billow's roar,
+    'Tis not that fatal deadly shore;
+    Tho' death in ev'ry shape appear,
+    The wretched have no more to fear!
+    But round my heart the ties are bound,
+    That heart transpierc'd with many a wound;
+    These bleed afresh, those ties I tear,
+    To leave the bonnie banks of Ayr.
+
+IV.
+
+    Farewell old Coila's hills and dales,
+    Her heathy moors and winding vales;
+    The scenes where wretched fancy roves,
+    Pursuing past, unhappy loves!
+    Farewell, my friends! farewell, my foes!
+    My peace with these, my love with those--
+    The bursting tears my heart declare;
+    Farewell, the bonnie banks of Ayr!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXXII.
+
+O WHAR DID YE GET
+
+Tune--"_Bonnie Dundee._"
+
+[This is one of the first songs which Burns communicated to Johnson's
+Musical Museum: the starting verse is partly old and partly new: the
+second is wholly by his hand.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O, whar did ye get that hauver meal bannock?
+      O silly blind body, O dinna ye see?
+    I gat it frae a young brisk sodger laddie,
+      Between Saint Johnston and bonnie Dundee.
+    O gin I saw the laddie that gae me't!
+      Aft has he doudl'd me up on his knee;
+    May Heaven protect my bonnie Scots laddie,
+      And send him safe hame to his babie and me!
+
+II.
+
+    My blessin's upon thy sweet wee lippie,
+      My blessin's upon thy bonnie e'e brie!
+    Thy smiles are sae like my blythe sodger laddie,
+      Thou's ay the dearer and dearer to me!
+    But I'll big a bower on yon bonnie banks,
+      Where Tay rins wimplin' by sae clear;
+    And I'll cleed thee in the tartan sae fine,
+      And mak thee a man like thy daddie dear.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXXIII.
+
+THE JOYFUL WIDOWER.
+
+Tune--"_Maggy Lauder._"
+
+[Most of this song is by Burns: his fancy was fierce with images of
+matrimonial joy or infelicity, and he had them ever ready at the call
+of the muse. It was first printed in the Musical Museum.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    I married with a scolding wife
+      The fourteenth of November;
+    She made me weary of my life,
+      By one unruly member.
+    Long did I bear the heavy yoke,
+      And many griefs attended;
+    But to my comfort be it spoke,
+      Now, now her life is ended.
+
+II.
+
+    We liv'd full one-and-twenty years
+      A man and wife together;
+    At length from me her course she steer'd,
+      And gone I know not whither:
+    Would I could guess, I do profess,
+      I speak, and do not flatter,
+    Of all the woman in the world,
+      I never could come at her.
+
+III.
+
+    Her body is bestowed well,
+      A handsome grave does hide her;
+    But sure her soul is not in hell,
+      The deil would ne'er abide her.
+    I rather think she is aloft,
+      And imitating thunder;
+    For why,--methinks I hear her voice
+      Tearing the clouds asunder.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXXIV.
+
+COME DOWN THE BACK STAIRS.
+
+Tune--"_Whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad._"
+
+[The air of this song was composed by John Bruce, a Dumfries fiddler.
+Burns gave another and happier version to the work of Thomson: this
+was written for the Museum of Johnson, where it was first published.]
+
+
+CHORUS.
+
+    O whistle, and I'll come
+      To you, my lad;
+    O whistle, and I'll come
+      To you, my lad:
+    Tho' father and mither
+      Should baith gae mad,
+    O whistle, and I'll come
+      To you, my lad.
+
+    Come down the back stairs
+      When ye come to court me;
+    Come down the back stairs
+      When ye come to court me;
+    Come down the back stairs,
+      And let naebody see,
+    And come as ye were na
+      Coming to me.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXXV.
+
+I AM MY MAMMY'S AE BAIRN.
+
+Tune--"_I'm o'er young to marry yet._"
+
+[The title, and part of the chorus only of this song, are old; the
+rest is by Burns, and was written for Johnson.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    I am my mammy's ae bairn,
+      Wi' unco folk I weary, Sir;
+    And lying in a man's bed,
+      I'm fley'd it make me eerie, Sir.
+          I'm o'er young to marry yet;
+            I'm o'er young to marry yet;
+          I'm o'er young--'twad be a sin
+            To tak' me frae my mammy yet.
+
+II.
+
+    Hallowmas is come and gane,
+      The nights are lang in winter, Sir;
+    And you an' I in ae bed,
+      In trouth, I dare na venture, Sir.
+
+III.
+
+    Fu' loud and shrill the frosty wind,
+      Blaws through the leafless timmer, Sir;
+    But, if ye come this gate again,
+      I'll aulder be gin simmer, Sir.
+          I'm o'er young to marry yet;
+            I'm o'er young to marry yet;
+          I'm o'er young, 'twad be a sin
+            To tak me frae my mammy yet.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXXVI.
+
+BONNIE LASSIE, WILL YE GO.
+
+Tune--"_The birks of Aberfeldy._"
+
+[An old strain, called "The Birks of Abergeldie," was the forerunner
+of this sweet song: it was written, the poet says, standing under the
+Falls of Aberfeldy, near Moness, in Perthshire, during one of the
+tours which he made to the north, in the year 1787.]
+
+
+CHORUS.
+
+    Bonnie lassie, will ye go,
+    Will ye go, will ye go;
+    Bonnie lassie, will ye go
+      To the birks of Aberfeldy?
+
+I.
+
+    Now simmer blinks on flowery braes,
+    And o'er the crystal streamlet plays;
+    Come let us spend the lightsome days
+      In the birks of Aberfeldy.
+
+II.
+
+    The little birdies blithely sing,
+    While o'er their heads the hazels hing,
+    Or lightly flit on wanton wing
+      In the birks of Aberfeldy.
+
+III.
+
+    The braes ascend, like lofty wa's,
+    The foamy stream deep-roaring fa's,
+    O'erhung wi' fragrant spreading shaws,
+      The birks of Aberfeldy.
+
+IV.
+
+    The hoary cliffs are crown'd wi' flowers,
+    White o'er the linns the burnie pours,
+    And rising, weets wi' misty showers
+      The birks of Aberfeldy.
+
+V.
+
+    Let Fortune's gifts at random flee,
+    They ne'er shall draw a wish frae me,
+    Supremely blest wi' love and thee,
+      In the birks of Aberfeldy.
+          Bonnie lassie, will ye go,
+          Will ye go, will ye go;
+          Bonnie lassie, will ye go
+            To the birks of Aberfeldy?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXXVII.
+
+MACPHERSON'S FAREWELL.
+
+Tune--"_M'Pherson's Rant._"
+
+[This vehement and daring song had its origin in an older and inferior
+strain, recording the feelings of a noted freebooter when brought to
+"justify his deeds on the gallows-tree" at Inverness.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Farewell, ye dungeons dark and strong,
+      The wretch's destinie!
+    Macpherson's time will not be long
+      On yonder gallows-tree.
+          Sae rantingly, sae wantonly,
+            Sae dauntingly gaed he;
+          He play'd a spring, and danc'd it round,
+            Below the gallows-tree.
+
+II.
+
+    Oh, what is death but parting breath?
+      On many a bloody plain
+    I've dar'd his face, and in this place
+      I scorn him yet again!
+
+III.
+
+    Untie these bands from off my hands,
+      And bring to me my sword;
+    And there's no a man in all Scotland,
+      But I'll brave him at a word.
+
+IV.
+
+    I've liv'd a life of sturt and strife;
+      I die by treacherie:
+    It burns my heart I must depart,
+      And not avenged be.
+
+V.
+
+    Now farewell light--thou sunshine bright,
+      And all beneath the sky!
+    May coward shame distain his name,
+      The wretch that dares not die!
+          Sae rantingly, sae wantonly,
+            Sae dauntingly gaed he;
+          He play'd a spring, and danc'd it round,
+            Below the gallows-tree.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXXVIII.
+
+BRAW LADS OF GALLA WATER.
+
+Tune--"_Galla Water._"
+
+[Burns found this song in the collection of Herd; added the first
+verse, made other but not material emendations, and published it in
+Johnson: in 1793 he wrote another version for Thomson.]
+
+
+CHORUS.
+
+    Braw, braw lads of Galla Water;
+      O braw lads of Galla Water:
+    I'll kilt my coats aboon my knee,
+      And follow my love thro' the water.
+
+I.
+
+    Sae fair her hair, sae brent her brow,
+      Sae bonny blue her een, my dearie;
+    Sae white her teeth, sae sweet her mou',
+      The mair I kiss she's ay my dearie.
+
+II.
+
+    O'er yon bank and o'er yon brae,
+      O'er yon moss amang the heather;
+    I'll kilt my coats aboon my knee,
+      And follow my love thro' the water.
+
+III.
+
+    Down amang the broom, the broom,
+      Down amang the broom, my dearie,
+    The lassie lost a silken snood,
+      That cost her mony a blirt and bleary.
+          Braw, braw lads of Galla Water;
+            O braw lads of Galla-Water:
+          I'll kilt my coats aboon my knee,
+            And follow my love thro' the water.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXXIX.
+
+STAY, MY CHARMER.
+
+Tune-"_An Gille dubh ciar dhubh._"
+
+[The air of this song was picked up by the poet in one of his northern
+tours: his Highland excursions coloured many of his lyric
+compositions.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Stay, my charmer, can you leave me?
+    Cruel, cruel, to deceive me!
+    Well you know how much you grieve me;
+      Cruel charmer, can you go?
+      Cruel charmer, can you go?
+
+II.
+
+    By my love so ill requited;
+    By the faith you fondly plighted;
+    By the pangs of lovers slighted;
+      Do not, do not leave me so!
+      Do not, do not leave me so!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XL.
+
+THICKEST NIGHT, O'ERHANG MY DWELLING.
+
+Tune--"_Strathallan's Lament._"
+
+[The Viscount Strathallan, whom this song commemorates, was William
+Drummond: he was slain at the carnage of Culloden. It was long
+believed that he escaped to France and died in exile.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Thickest night, surround my dwelling!
+      Howling tempests, o'er me rave!
+    Turbid torrents, wintry swelling,
+      Roaring by my lonely cave!
+
+II.
+
+    Crystal streamlets gently flowing,
+      Busy haunts of base mankind,
+    Western breezes softly blowing,
+      Suit not my distracted mind.
+
+III.
+
+    In the cause of Right engaged,
+      Wrongs injurious to redress,
+    Honour's war we strongly waged,
+      But the heavens denied success.
+
+IV.
+
+    Ruin's wheel has driven o'er us,
+      Not a hope that dare attend,
+    The wild world is all before us--
+      But a world without a friend.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XLI.
+
+MY HOGGIE.
+
+Tune--"_What will I do gin my Hoggie die?_"
+
+[Burns was struck with the pastoral wildness of this Liddesdale air,
+and wrote these words to it for the Museum: the first line only is
+old.]
+
+
+    What will I do gin my Hoggie die?
+      My joy, my pride, my Hoggie!
+    My only beast, I had nae mae,
+      And vow but I was vogie!
+    The lee-lang night we watch'd the fauld,
+      Me and my faithfu' doggie;
+    We heard nought but the roaring linn,
+      Amang the braes sae scroggie;
+    But the houlet cry'd frae the castle wa',
+      The blitter frae the boggie,
+    The tod reply'd upon the hill,
+      I trembled for my Hoggie.
+    When day did daw, and cocks did craw,
+      The morning it was foggie;
+    An' unco tyke lap o'er the dyke,
+      And maist has kill'd my Hoggie.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XLII.
+
+HER DADDIE FORBAD.
+
+Tune--"_Jumpin' John._"
+
+[This is one of the old songs which Ritson accuses Burns of amending
+for the Museum: little of it, however, is his, save a touch here and
+there--but they are Burns's touches.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Her daddie forbad, her minnie forbad;
+      Forbidden she wadna be:
+    She wadna trow't, the browst she brew'd
+      Wad taste sae bitterlie.
+          The lang lad they ca' jumpin' John
+            Beguiled the bonnie lassie,
+          The lang lad they ca' Jumpin' John
+            Beguiled the bonnie lassie.
+
+II.
+
+    A cow and a cauf, a yowe and a hauf,
+      And thretty gude shillin's and three;
+    A vera gude tocher, a cotter-man's dochter,
+      The lass wi' the bonnie black e'e.
+          The lang lad they ca' Jumpin' John
+            Beguiled the bonnie lassie,
+          The lang lad they ca' Jumpin' John
+            Beguiled the bonnie lassie.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XLIII
+
+UP IN THE MORNING EARLY
+
+Tune--"_Cold blows the wind._"
+
+["The chorus of this song," says the poet, in his notes on the
+Scottish Lyrics, "is old, the two stanzas are mine." The air is
+ancient, and was a favourite of Mary Stuart, the queen of William the
+Third.]
+
+
+CHORUS.
+
+    Up in the morning's no for me,
+      Up in the morning early;
+    When a' the hills are cover'd wi' snaw,
+      I'm sure it's winter fairly.
+
+I.
+
+    Cauld blaws the wind frae east to west,
+      The drift is driving sairly;
+    Sae loud and shill I hear the blast,
+      I'm sure it's winter fairly.
+
+II.
+
+    The birds sit chittering in the thorn,
+      A' day they fare but sparely;
+    And lang's the night frae e'en to morn--
+      I'm sure it's winter fairly.
+        Up in the morning's no for me,
+          Up in the morning early;
+        When a' the hills are cover'd wi' snaw,
+          I'm sure it's winter fairly.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XLIV.
+
+THE
+
+YOUNG HIGHLAND ROVER.
+
+Tune--"_Morag._"
+
+[The Young Highland Rover of this strain is supposed by some to be the
+Chevalier, and with more probability by others, to be a Gordon, as the
+song was composed in consequence of the poet's visit to "bonnie
+Castle-Gordon," in September, 1787.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Loud blaw the frosty breezes,
+      The snaws the mountains cover;
+    Like winter on me seizes,
+      Since my young Highland rover
+      Far wanders nations over.
+    Where'er he go, where'er he stray.
+      May Heaven be his warden:
+    Return him safe to fair Strathspey,
+      And bonnie Castle-Gordon!
+
+II.
+
+    The trees now naked groaning,
+      Shall Soon wi' leaves be hinging.
+    The birdies dowie moaning,
+      Shall a' be blithely singing,
+      And every flower be springing.
+    Sae I'll rejoice the lee-lang day
+      When by his mighty Warden
+    My youth's returned to fair Strathspey,
+      And bonnie Castle-Gordon.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XLV.
+
+HEY, THE DUSTY MILLER
+
+Tune--"_The Dusty Miller._"
+
+[The Dusty Miller is an old strain, modified for the Museum by Burns:
+it is a happy specimen of his taste and skill in making the new look
+like the old.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Hey, the dusty miller,
+      And his dusty coat;
+    He will win a shilling,
+      Or he spend a groat.
+          Dusty was the coat,
+            Dusty was the colour,
+          Dusty was the kiss
+            That I got frae the miller.
+
+II.
+
+    Hey, the dusty miller,
+      And his dusty sack;
+    Leeze me on the calling
+      Fills the dusty peck.
+          Fills the dusty peck,
+            Brings the dusty siller;
+          I wad gie my coatie
+            For the dusty miller.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XLVI.
+
+THERE WAS A LASS.
+
+Tune--"_Duncan Davison._"
+
+[There are several other versions of Duncan Davison, which it is more
+delicate to allude to than to quote: this one is in the Museum.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    There was a lass, they ca'd her Meg,
+      And she held o'er the moors to spin;
+    There was a lad that follow'd her,
+      They ca'd him Duncan Davison.
+    The moor was driegh, and Meg was skiegh,
+      Her favour Duncan could na win;
+    For wi' the roke she wad him knock.
+      And ay she shook the temper-pin.
+
+II.
+
+    As o'er the moor they lightly foor,
+      A burn was clear, a glen was green,
+    Upon the banks they eas'd-their shanks,
+      And ay she set the wheel between:
+    But Duncan swore a haly aith,
+      That Meg should be a bride the morn,
+    Then Meg took up her spinnin' graith,
+      And flang them a' out o'er the burn.
+
+III.
+
+    We'll big a house,--a wee, wee house,
+      And we will live like king and queen,
+    Sae blythe and merry we will be
+      When ye set by the wheel at e'en.
+    A man may drink and no be drunk;
+      A man may fight and no be slain;
+    A man may kiss a bonnie lass,
+      And ay be welcome back again.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XLVII.
+
+THENIEL MENZIES' BONNIE MARY.
+
+Tune.--"_The Ruffian's Rant._"
+
+[Burns, it is believed, wrote this song during his first Highland
+tour, when he danced among the northern dames, to the tune of "Bab at
+the Bowster," till the morning sun rose and reproved them from the top
+of Ben Lomond.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    In coming by the brig o' Dye,
+      At Darlet we a blink did tarry;
+    As day was dawin in the sky,
+      We drank a health to bonnie Mary.
+          Theniel Menzies' bonnie Mary;
+            Theniel Menzies' bonnie Mary;
+          Charlie Gregor tint his plaidie,
+            Kissin' Theniel's bonnie Mary.
+
+II.
+
+    Her een sae bright, her brow sae white,
+      Her haffet locks as brown's a berry;
+    And ay, they dimpl't wi' a smile,
+      The rosy checks o' bonnie Mary.
+
+III.
+
+    We lap and danced the lee lang day,
+      Till piper lads were wae and weary;
+    But Charlie gat the spring to pay,
+      For kissin' Theniel's bonnie Mary.
+          Theniel Menzies' bonnie Mary;
+            Theniel Menzies' bonnie Mary;
+          Charlie Gregor tint his plaidie,
+            Kissin' Theniel's bonnie Mary.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XLVIII.
+
+THE BANKS OF THE DEVON.
+
+Tune.--"_Bhannerach dhon na chri._"
+
+[These verses were composed on a charming young lady, Charlotte
+Hamilton, sister to the poet's friend, Gavin Hamilton of Mauchline,
+residing, when the song was written, at Harvieston, on the banks of
+the Devon, in the county of Clackmannan.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    How pleasant the banks of the clear winding Devon,
+      With green spreading bushes, and flowers blooming fair!
+    But the bonniest flower on the banks of the Devon
+      Was once a sweet bud on the braes of the Ayr.
+    Mild be the sun on this sweet blushing flower,
+      In the gay rosy morn, as it bathes in the dew;
+    And gentle the fall of the soft vernal shower,
+      That steals on the evening each leaf to renew.
+
+II.
+
+    O spare the dear blossom, ye orient breezes,
+      With chill hoary wing, as ye usher the dawn;
+    And far be thou distant, thou reptile that seizes
+      The verdure and pride of the garden and lawn!
+    Let Bourbon exult in his gay gilded Lilies,
+      And England, triumphant, display her proud Rose:
+    A fairer than either adorns the green valleys,
+      Where Devon, sweet Devon, meandering flows.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XLIX.
+
+WEARY FA' YOU, DUNCAN GRAY.
+
+Tune--"_Duncan Gray._"
+
+[The original Duncan Gray, out of which the present strain was
+extracted for Johnson, had no right to be called a lad of grace:
+another version, and in a happier mood, was written for Thomson.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Weary fa' you, Duncan Gray--
+      Ha, ha, the girdin o't!
+    Wae gae by you, Duncan Gray--
+      Ha, ha, the girdin o't!
+    When a' the lave gae to their play,
+    Then I maun sit the lee lang day,
+    And jog the cradle wi' my tae,
+      And a' for the girdin o't!
+
+II.
+
+    Bonnie was the Lammas moon--
+      Ha, ha, the girdin o't!
+    Glowrin' a' the hills aboon--
+      Ha, ha, the girdin o't!
+    The girdin brak, the beast cam down,
+    I tint my curch, and baith my shoon;
+    Ah! Duncan, ye're an unco loon--
+      Wae on the bad girdin o't!
+
+III.
+
+    But, Duncan, gin ye'll keep your aith--
+      Ha, ha, the girdin o't!
+    I'se bless you wi' my hindmost breath--
+      Ha, ha, the girdin o't!
+    Duncan, gin ye'll keep your aith,
+    The beast again can bear us baith,
+    And auld Mess John will mend the skaith,
+      And clout the bad girdin o't.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+L.
+
+THE PLOUGHMAN.
+
+Tune--"_Up wi' the ploughman._"
+
+[The old words, of which these in the Museum are an altered and
+amended version, are in the collection of Herd.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    The ploughman he's a bonnie lad,
+      His mind is ever true, jo,
+    His garters knit below his knee,
+      His bonnet it is blue, jo.
+          Then up wi' him my ploughman lad,
+            And hey my merry ploughman!
+          Of a' the trades that I do ken,
+            Commend me to the ploughman.
+
+II.
+
+    My ploughman he comes hame at e'en,
+      He's aften wat and weary;
+    Cast off the wat, put on the dry,
+      And gae to bed, my dearie!
+
+III.
+
+    I will wash my ploughman's hose,
+      And I will dress his o'erlay;
+    I will mak my ploughman's bed,
+      And cheer him late and early.
+
+IV.
+
+    I hae been east, I hae been west,
+      I hae been at Saint Johnston;
+    The bonniest sight that e'er I saw
+      Was the ploughman laddie dancin'.
+
+V.
+
+    Snaw-white stockins on his legs,
+      And siller buckles glancin';
+    A gude blue bonnet on his head--
+      And O, but he was handsome!
+
+VI.
+
+    Commend me to the barn-yard,
+      And the corn-mou, man;
+    I never gat my coggie fou,
+      Till I met wi' the ploughman.
+          Up wi' him my ploughman lad,
+            And hey my merry ploughman!
+          Of a' the trades that I do ken,
+            Commend me to the ploughman.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LI.
+
+LANDLADY, COUNT THE LAWIN.
+
+Tune--"_Hey tutti, taiti._"
+
+[Of this song, the first and second verses are by Burns: the closing
+verse belongs to a strain threatening Britain with an invasion from
+the iron-handed Charles XII. of Sweden, to avenge his own wrongs and
+restore the line of the Stuarts.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Landlady, count the lawin,
+    The day is near the dawin;
+    Ye're a' blind drunk, boys,
+      And I'm but jolly fou,
+          Hey tutti, taiti,
+          How tutti, taiti--
+          Wha's fou now?
+
+II.
+
+    Cog an' ye were ay fou,
+    Cog an' ye were ay fou,
+    I wad sit and sing to you
+      If ye were ay fou.
+
+III.
+
+    Weel may ye a' be!
+    Ill may we never see!
+    God bless the king,
+      And the companie!
+          Hey tutti, taiti,
+          How tutti, taiti--
+          Wha's fou now?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LII.
+
+RAVING WINDS AROUND HER BLOWING.
+
+Tune--"_Macgregor of Rura's Lament._"
+
+["I composed these verses," says Burns, "on Miss Isabella M'Leod, of
+Raza, alluding to her feelings on the death of her sister, and the
+still more melancholy death of her sister's husband, the late Earl of
+Loudon, in 1796."]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Raving winds around her blowing,
+    Yellow leaves the woodlands strowing,
+    By a river hoarsely roaring,
+    Isabella stray'd deploring--
+    "Farewell hours that late did measure
+    Sunshine days of joy and pleasure;
+    Hail, thou gloomy night of sorrow,
+    Cheerless night that knows no morrow!
+
+II.
+
+    "O'er the past too fondly wandering,
+    On the hopeless future pondering;
+    Chilly grief my life-blood freezes,
+    Fell despair my fancy seizes.
+    Life, thou soul of every blessing,
+    Load to misery most distressing,
+    Gladly how would I resign thee,
+    And to dark oblivion join thee!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LIII.
+
+HOW LONG AND DREARY IS THE NIGHT.
+
+_To a Gaelic air._
+
+[Composed for the Museum: the air of this affecting strain is true
+Highland: Burns, though not a musician, had a fine natural taste in
+the matter of national melodies.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    How long and dreary is the night
+      When I am frae my dearie!
+    I sleepless lie frae e'en to morn,
+      Tho' I were ne'er sae weary.
+    I sleepless lie frae e'en to morn,
+      Tho' I were ne'er sae weary.
+
+II.
+
+    When I think on the happy days
+      I spent wi' you, my dearie,
+    And now what lands between us lie,
+      How can I but be eerie!
+    And now what lands between us lie,
+      How can I be but eerie!
+
+III.
+
+    How slow ye move, ye heavy hours,
+      As ye were wae and weary!
+    It was na sae ye glinted by,
+      When I was wi' my dearie.
+    It was na sae ye glinted by,
+      When I was wi' my dearie.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LIV.
+
+MUSING ON THE ROARING OCEAN.
+
+Tune--"_Druimion dubh._"
+
+[The air of this song is from the Highlands: the verses were written
+in compliment to the feelings of Mrs. M'Lauchlan, whose husband was an
+officer serving in the East Indies.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Musing on the roaring ocean,
+      Which divides my love and me;
+    Wearying heaven in warm devotion,
+      For his weal where'er he be.
+
+II.
+
+    Hope and fear's alternate billow
+      Yielding late to nature's law,
+    Whisp'ring spirits round my pillow
+      Talk of him that's far awa.
+
+III.
+
+    Ye whom sorrow never wounded,
+      Ye who never shed a tear,
+    Care-untroubled, joy-surrounded,
+      Gaudy day to you is dear.
+
+IV.
+
+    Gentle night, do thou befriend me;
+      Downy sleep, the curtain draw;
+    Spirits kind, again attend me,
+      Talk of him that's far awa!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LV.
+
+BLITHE WAS SHE.
+
+Tune--"_Andro and his cutty gun._"
+
+[The heroine of this song, Euphemia Murray, of Lintrose was justly
+called the "Flower of Strathmore:" she is now widow of Lord Methven,
+one of the Scottish judges, and mother of a fine family. The song was
+written at Ochtertyre, in June 1787.]
+
+
+CHORUS.
+
+    Blithe, blithe and merry was she,
+      Blithe was she but and ben:
+    Blithe by the banks of Ern,
+      And blithe in Glenturit glen.
+
+I.
+
+    By Auchtertyre grows the aik,
+      On Yarrow banks the birken shaw;
+    But Phemie was a bonnier lass
+      Than braes of Yarrow ever saw.
+
+II.
+
+    Her looks were like a flow'r in May,
+      Her smile was like a simmer morn;
+    She tripped by the banks of Ern,
+      As light's a bird upon a thorn.
+
+III.
+
+    Her bonnie face it was as meek
+      As any lamb upon a lea;
+    The evening sun was ne'er sae sweet,
+      As was the blink o' Phemie's ee.
+
+IV.
+
+    The Highland hills I've wander'd wide,
+      And o'er the Lowlands I hae been;
+    But Phemie was the blithest lass
+      That ever trod the dewy green.
+          Blithe, blithe and merry was she,
+            Blithe was she but and ben:
+          Blithe by the banks of Ern.
+            And blithe in Glenturit glen.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LVI.
+
+THE BLUDE RED ROSE AT YULE MAY BLAW.
+
+Tune--"_To daunton me._"
+
+[The Jacobite strain of "To daunton me," must have been in the mind of
+the poet when he wrote this pithy lyric for the Museum.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    The blude red rose at Yule may blaw,
+    The simmer lilies bloom in snaw,
+    The frost may freeze the deepest sea;
+    But an auld man shall never daunton me.
+        To daunton me, and me so young,
+        Wi' his fause heart and flatt'ring tongue.
+        That is the thing you ne'er shall see;
+        For an auld man shall never daunton me.
+
+II.
+
+    For a' his meal and a' his maut,
+    For a' his fresh beef and his saut,
+    For a' his gold and white monie,
+    An auld man shall never daunton me.
+
+III.
+
+    His gear may buy him kye and yowes,
+    His gear may buy him glens and knowes;
+    But me he shall not buy nor fee,
+    For an auld man shall never daunton me.
+
+IV.
+
+    He hirples twa fauld as he dow,
+    Wi' his teethless gab and Ma auld beld pow,
+    And the rain rains down frae his red bleer'd ee--
+    That auld man shall never daunton me.
+        To daunton me, and me sae young,
+        Wi' his fause heart and flatt'ring tongue,
+        That is the thing you ne'er shall see;
+        For an auld man shall never daunton me.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LVII.
+
+COME BOAT ME O'ER TO CHARLIE.
+
+Tune--"_O'er the water to Charlie._"
+
+[The second stanza of this song, and nearly all the third, are by
+Burns. Many songs, some of merit, on the same subject, and to the same
+air, were in other days current in Scotland.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Come boat me o'er, come row me o'er,
+      Come boat me o'er to Charlie;
+    I'll gie John Ross another bawbee,
+      To boat me o'er to Charlie.
+          We'll o'er the water and o'er the sea,
+            We'll o'er the water to Charlie;
+          Come weal, come woe, we'll gather and go,
+            And live or die wi' Charlie.
+
+II.
+
+    I lo'e weel my Charlie's name,
+      Tho' some there be abhor him:
+    But O, to see auld Nick gaun hame,
+      And Charlie's faes before him!
+
+III.
+
+    I swear and vow by moon and stars,
+      And sun that shines so early,
+    If I had twenty thousand lives,
+      I'd die as aft for Charlie.
+          We'll o'er the water and o'er the sea,
+            We'll o'er the water to Charlie;
+          Come weal, come woe, we'll gather and go,
+            And live or die wi' Charlie!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LVIII.
+
+A ROSE-BUD BY MY EARLY WALK.
+
+Tune--"_The Rose-bud._"
+
+[The "Rose-bud" of these sweet verses was Miss Jean Cruikshank,
+afterwards Mrs. Henderson, daughter of William Cruikshank, of St.
+James's Square, one of the masters of the High School of Edinburgh:
+she is also the subject of a poem equally sweet.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    A rose-bud by my early walk,
+    Adown a corn-enclosed bawk,
+    Sae gently bent its thorny stalk,
+      All on a dewy morning.
+    Ere twice the shades o' dawn are fled,
+    In a' its crimson glory spread,
+    And drooping rich the dewy head,
+      It scents the early morning.
+
+II.
+
+    Within the bush, her covert nest
+    A little linnet fondly prest,
+    The dew sat chilly on her breast
+      Sae early in the morning.
+    She soon shall see her tender brood,
+    The pride, the pleasure o' the wood,
+    Amang the fresh green leaves bedew'd,
+      Awake the early morning.
+
+III.
+
+    So thou, dear bird, young Jeany fair,
+    On trembling string or vocal air,
+    Shall sweetly pay the tender care
+      That tends thy early morning.
+    So thou, sweet rose-bud, young and gay,
+    Shalt beauteous blaze upon the day,
+    And bless the parent's evening ray
+      That watch'd thy early morning.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LIX.
+
+RATTLIN', ROARIN' WILLIE.
+
+Tune--"_Rattlin', roarin' Willie._"
+
+["The hero of this chant," says Burns "was one of the worthiest
+fellows in the world--William Dunbar, Esq., Write to the Signet,
+Edinburgh, and Colonel of the Crochallan corps--a club of wits, who
+took that title at the time of raising the fencible regiments."]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O rattlin', roarin' Willie,
+      O, he held to the fair,
+    An' for to sell his fiddle,
+      An' buy some other ware;
+    But parting wi' his fiddle,
+      The saut tear blint his ee;
+    And rattlin', roarin' Willie,
+      Ye're welcome hame to me!
+
+II.
+
+    O Willie, come sell your fiddle,
+      O sell your fiddle sae fine;
+    O Willie, come sell your fiddle,
+      And buy a pint o' wine!
+    If I should sell my fiddle,
+      The warl' would think I was mad;
+    For mony a rantin' day
+      My fiddle and I hae had.
+
+III.
+
+    As I cam by Crochallan,
+      I cannily keekit ben--
+    Rattlin', roarin' Willie
+      Was sittin' at yon board en';
+    Sitting at yon board en',
+      And amang good companie;
+    Rattlin', roarin' Willie,
+      Ye're welcome hame to me I
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LX.
+
+BRAVING ANGRY WINTER'S STORMS.
+
+Tune--"_Neil Gow's Lamentations for Abercairny._"
+
+["This song," says the poet, "I composed on one of the most
+accomplished of women, Miss Peggy Chalmers that was, now Mrs. Lewis
+Hay, of Forbes and Co.'s bank, Edinburgh." She now lives at Pau, in
+the south of France.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Where, braving angry winter's storms,
+      The lofty Ochels rise,
+    Far in their shade my Peggy's charms
+      First blest my wondering eyes;
+    As one who by some savage stream,
+      A lonely gem surveys,
+    Astonish'd, doubly marks its beam,
+      With art's most polish'd blaze.
+
+II.
+
+    Blest be the wild, sequester'd shade,
+      And blest the day and hour,
+    Where Peggy's charms I first survey'd,
+      When first I felt their power!
+    The tyrant Death, with grim control,
+      May seize my fleeting breath;
+    But tearing Peggy from my soul
+      Must be a stronger death.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXI.
+
+TIBBIE DUNBAR.
+
+Tune--"_Johnny M'Gill._"
+
+[We owe the air of this song to one Johnny M'Gill, a fiddler of
+Girvan, who bestowed his own name on it: and the song itself partly to
+Burns and partly to some unknown minstrel. They are both in the
+Museum.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O, Wilt thou go wi' me,
+      Sweet Tibbie Dunbar?
+    O, wilt thou go wi' me,
+      Sweet Tibbie Dunbar?
+    Wilt thou ride on a horse,
+      Or be drawn in a car,
+    Or walk by my side,
+      O, sweet Tibbie Dunbar?
+
+II.
+
+    I care na thy daddie,
+      His lands and his money,
+    I care na thy kindred,
+      Sae high and sae lordly:
+    But say thou wilt hae me
+      For better for waur--
+    And come in thy coatie,
+      Sweet Tibbie Dunbar!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXII.
+
+STREAMS THAT GLIDE IN ORIENT PLAINS.
+
+Tune--"_Morag._"
+
+[We owe these verses to the too brief visit which the poet, in 1787,
+made to Gordon Castle: he was hurried away, much against his will, by
+his moody and obstinate friend William Nicol.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Streams that glide in orient plains,
+    Never bound by winter's chains;
+      Glowing here on golden sands,
+    There commix'd with foulest stains
+      From tyranny's empurpled bands;
+    These, their richly gleaming waves,
+    I leave to tyrants and their slaves;
+    Give me the stream that sweetly laves
+      The banks by Castle-Gordon.
+
+II.
+
+    Spicy forests, ever gay,
+    Shading from the burning ray,
+      Hapless wretches sold to toil,
+      Or the ruthless native's way,
+        Bent on slaughter, blood, and spoil:
+    Woods that ever verdant wave,
+    I leave the tyrant and the slave,
+    Give me the groves that lofty brave
+      The storms by Castle-Gordon.
+
+III.
+
+    Wildly here without control,
+    Nature reigns and rules the whole;
+      In that sober pensive mood,
+    Dearest to the feeling soul,
+      She plants the forest, pours the flood;
+    Life's poor day I'll musing rave,
+    And find at night a sheltering cave,
+    Where waters flow and wild woods wave,
+        By bonnie Castle-Gordon.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXIII.
+
+MY HARRY WAS A GALLANT GAY.
+
+Tune--"_Highland's Lament._"
+
+["The chorus," says Burns, "I picked up from an old woman in Dumblane:
+the rest of the song is mine." He composed it for Johnson: the tone is
+Jacobitical.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    My Harry was a gallant gay,
+      Fu' stately strode he on the plain:
+    But now he's banish'd far away,
+      I'll never see him back again,
+          O for him back again!
+            O for him back again!
+          I wad gie a' Knockhaspie's land
+            For Highland Harry back again.
+
+II.
+
+    When a' the lave gae to their bed,
+      I wander dowie up the glen;
+    I set me down and greet my fill,
+      And ay I wish him back again.
+
+III.
+
+    O were some villains hangit high.
+      And ilka body had their ain!
+    Then I might see the joyfu' sight,
+      My Highland Harry back again.
+          O for him back again!
+            O for him back again!
+          I wad gie a' Knockhaspie's land
+            For Highland Harry back again.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXIV.
+
+THE TAILOR.
+
+    Tune--"_The Tailor fell thro' the bed, thimbles an' a'._"
+
+[The second and fourth verses are by Burns, the rest is very old, the
+air is also very old, and is played at trade festivals and processions
+by the Corporation of Tailors.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    The Tailor fell thro' the bed, thimbles an' a',
+    The Tailor fell thro' the bed, thimbles an' a';
+    The blankets were thin, and the sheets they were sma',
+    The Tailor fell thro' the bed, thimbles an' a'.
+
+II.
+
+    The sleepy bit lassie, she dreaded nae ill,
+    The sleepy bit lassie, she dreaded nae ill;
+    The weather was cauld, and the lassie lay still,
+    She thought that a tailor could do her nae ill.
+
+III.
+
+    Gie me the groat again, canny young man;
+    Gie me the groat again, canny young man;
+    The day it is short, and the night it is lang,
+    The dearest siller that ever I wan!
+
+IV.
+
+    There's somebody weary wi' lying her lane;
+    There's somebody weary wi' lying her lane;
+    There's some that are dowie, I trow would be fain
+    To see the bit tailor come skippin' again.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXV.
+
+SIMMER'S A PLEASANT TIME.
+
+Tune--"_Ay waukin o'._"
+
+[Tytler and Ritson unite in considering the air of these words as one
+of our most ancient melodies. The first verse of the song is from the
+hand of Burns; the rest had the benefit of his emendations: it is to
+be found in the Museum.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Simmer's a pleasant time,
+      Flow'rs of ev'ry colour;
+    The water rins o'er the heugh,
+      And I long for my true lover.
+          Ay waukin O,
+            Waukin still and wearie:
+          Sleep I can get nane
+            For thinking on my dearie.
+
+II.
+
+    When I sleep I dream,
+      When I wauk I'm eerie;
+    Sleep I can get nane
+      For thinking on my dearie.
+
+III.
+
+    Lanely night comes on,
+      A' the lave are sleeping;
+    I think on my bonnie lad
+      And I bleer my een with greetin'.
+          Ay waukin O,
+            Waukin still and wearie:
+          Sleep I can get nane
+            For thinking on my dearie.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXVI.
+
+BEWARE O' BONNIE ANN.
+
+Tune--"_Ye gallants bright._"
+
+[Burns wrote this song in honour of Ann Masterton, daughter of Allan
+Masterton, author of the air of Strathallan's Lament: she is now Mrs.
+Derbishire, and resides in London.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Ye gallants bright, I red ye right,
+      Beware o' bonnie Ann;
+    Her comely face sae fu' o' grace,
+      Your heart she will trepan.
+    Her een sae bright, like stars by night,
+      Her skin is like the swan;
+    Sae jimply lac'd her genty waist,
+      That sweetly ye might span.
+
+II.
+
+    Youth, grace, and love attendant move,
+      And pleasure leads the van:
+    In a' their charms, and conquering arms,
+      They wait on bonnie Ann.
+    The captive bands may chain the hands,
+      But love enclaves the man;
+    Ye Gallants braw, I red you a',
+      Beware of bonnie Ann!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXVII.
+
+WHEN ROSY MAY.
+
+Tune--"_The gardener wi' his paidle._"
+
+[The air of this song is played annually at the precession of the
+Gardeners: the title only is old; the rest is the work of Burns. Every
+trade had, in other days, an air of its own, and songs to correspond;
+but toil and sweat came in harder measures, and drove melodies out of
+working-men's heads.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    When rosy May comes in wi' flowers,
+    To deck her gay green-spreading bowers,
+    Then busy, busy are his hours--
+      The gard'ner wi' his paidle
+    The crystal waters gently fa';
+    The merry birds are lovers a';
+    The scented breezes round him blaw--
+      The gard'ner wi' his paidle.
+
+II.
+
+    When purple morning starts the hare
+    To steal upon her early fare,
+    Then thro' the dews he maun repair--
+      The gard'ner wi' his paidle.
+    When day, expiring in the west,
+    The curtain draws of nature's rest,
+    He flies to her arms he lo'es best--
+      The gard'ner wi' his paidle.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXVIII.
+
+BLOOMING NELLY.
+
+Tune--"_On a bank of flowers._"
+
+[One of the lyrics of Allan Ramsay's collection seems to have been in
+the mind of Burns when he wrote this: the words and air are in the
+Museum.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    On a bank of flowers, in a summer day,
+      For summer lightly drest,
+    The youthful blooming Nelly lay,
+      With love and sleep opprest;
+    When Willie wand'ring thro' the wood,
+      Who for her favour oft had sued,
+    He gaz'd, he wish'd, he fear'd, he blush'd,
+      And trembled where he stood.
+
+II.
+
+    Her closed eyes like weapons sheath'd,
+      Were seal'd in soft repose;
+    Her lips still as she fragrant breath'd,
+      It richer dy'd the rose.
+    The springing lilies sweetly prest,
+      Wild--wanton, kiss'd her rival breast;
+    He gaz'd, he wish'd, he fear'd, he blush'd--
+      His bosom ill at rest.
+
+III.
+
+    Her robes light waving in the breeze
+      Her tender limbs embrace;
+    Her lovely form, her native ease,
+      All harmony and grace:
+    Tumultuous tides his pulses roll,
+      A faltering, ardent kiss he stole;
+    He gaz'd, he wish'd, he fear'd, he blush'd,
+      And sigh'd his very soul.
+
+IV.
+
+    As flies the partridge from the brake,
+      On fear-inspired wings,
+    So Nelly, starting, half awake,
+      Away affrighted springs:
+    But Willie follow'd, as he should,
+      He overtook her in a wood;
+    He vow'd, he pray'd, he found the maid
+      Forgiving all and good.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXIX.
+
+THE DAY RETURNS.
+
+Tune--"_Seventh of November._"
+
+[The seventh of November was the anniversary of the marriage of Mr.
+and Mrs. Riddel, of Friars-Carse, and these verses were composed in
+compliment to the day.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    The day returns, my bosom burns,
+      The blissful day we twa did meet,
+    Tho' winter wild in tempest toil'd,
+      Ne'er summer-sun was half sae sweet.
+    Than a' the pride that loads the tide,
+      And crosses o'er the sultry line;
+    Than kingly robes, than crowns and globes,
+      Heaven gave me more--it made thee mine!
+
+II.
+
+    While day and night can bring delight,
+      Or nature aught of pleasure give,
+    While joys above my mind can move,
+      For thee, and thee alone I live.
+    When that grim foe of life below,
+      Comes in between to make us part,
+    The iron hand that breaks our band,
+      It breaks my bliss--it breaks my heart.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXX.
+
+MY LOVE SHE'S BUT A LASSIE YET.
+
+Tune--"_Lady Bandinscoth's Reel._"
+
+[These verses had their origin in an olden strain, equally lively and
+less delicate: some of the old lines keep their place: the title is
+old. Both words and all are in the Musical Museum.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    My love she's but a lassie yet,
+      My love she's but a lassie yet,
+    We'll let her stand a year or twa,
+      Shell no be half so saucy yet.
+    I rue the day I sought her, O;
+      I rue the day I sought her, O;
+    Wha gets her needs na say he's woo'd,
+      But he may say he's bought her, O!
+
+II.
+
+    Come, draw a drap o' the best o't yet;
+      Come, draw a drap o' the best o't yet;
+    Gae seek for pleasure where ye will,
+      But here I never miss'd it yet.
+    We're a' dry wi' drinking o't;
+      We're a' dry wi' drinking o't;
+    The minister kiss'd the fiddler's wife,
+      An' could na preach for thinkin' o't.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXI.
+
+JAMIE, COME TRY ME.
+
+Tune--"_Jamy, come try me._"
+
+[Burns in these verses caught up the starting note of an old song, of
+which little more than the starting words deserve to be remembered:
+the word and air are in the Musical Museum.]
+
+
+CHORUS.
+
+    Jamie, come try me,
+    Jamie, come try me;
+    If thou would win my love,
+    Jamie, come try me.
+
+I.
+
+    If thou should ask my love,
+      Could I deny thee?
+    If thou would win my love,
+      Jamie, come try me.
+
+II.
+
+    If thou should kiss me, love,
+      Wha could espy thee?
+    If thou wad be my love,
+      Jamie, come try me.
+        Jamie, come try me,
+        Jamie, come try me;
+        If thou would win my love,
+        Jamie, come try me.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXII.
+
+MY BONNIE MARY.
+
+Tune--"_Go fetch to me a pint o' wine._"
+
+[Concerning this fine song, Burns in his notes says, "This air is
+Oswald's: the first half-stanza of the song is old, the rest is mine."
+It is believed, however, that the whole of the song is from his hand:
+in Hogg and Motherwell's edition of Burns, the starting lines are
+supplied from an olden strain: but some of the old strains in that
+work are to be regarded with suspicion.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Go fetch to me a pint o' wine,
+      An' fill it in a silver tassie;
+    That I may drink, before I go,
+      A service to my bonnie lassie;
+    The boat rocks at the pier o' Leith;
+      Fu' loud the wind blaws frae the ferry;
+    The ship rides by the Berwick-law,
+      And I maun leave my bonnie Mary.
+
+II.
+
+    The trumpets sound, the banners fly,
+      The glittering spears are ranked ready;
+    The shouts o' war are heard afar,
+      The battle closes thick and bloody;
+    It's not the roar o' sea or shore
+      Wad make me langer wish to tarry;
+    Nor shouts o' war that's heard afar--
+      It's leaving thee, my bonnie Mary.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXIII.
+
+THE LAZY MIST.
+
+Tune--"_The lazy mist._"
+
+[All that Burns says about the authorship of The Lazy Mist, is, "This
+song is mine." The air, which is by Oswald, together with the words,
+is in the Musical Museum.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    The lazy mist hangs from the brow of the hill,
+    Concealing the course of the dark winding rill;
+    How languid the scenes, late so sprightly, appear!
+    As Autumn to Winter resigns the pale year.
+    The forests are leafless, the meadows are brown,
+    And all the gay foppery of summer is flown:
+    Apart let me wander, apart let me muse,
+    How quick Time is flying, how keen Fate pursues!
+
+II.
+
+    How long have I liv'd, but how much liv'd in vain!
+    How little of life's scanty span may remain!
+    What aspects, old Time, in his progress, has worn!
+    What ties cruel Fate in my bosom has torn!
+    How foolish, or worse, till our summit is gain'd!
+    And downward, how weaken'd, how darken'd, how pain'd!
+    Life is not worth having with all it can give--
+    For something beyond it poor man sure must live.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXIV.
+
+THE CAPTAIN'S LADY.
+
+Tune--"_O mount and go._"
+
+[Part of this song belongs to an old maritime strain, with the same
+title: it was communicated, along with many other songs, made or
+amended by Burns, to the Musical Museum.]
+
+
+CHORUS.
+
+    O mount and go,
+      Mount and make you ready;
+    O mount and go,
+      And be the Captain's Lady.
+
+I.
+
+    When the drums do beat,
+      And the cannons rattle,
+    Thou shall sit in state,
+      And see thy love in battle.
+
+II.
+
+    When the vanquish'd foe
+      Sues for peace and quiet,
+    To the shades we'll go,
+      And in love enjoy it.
+          O mount and go,
+            Mount and make you ready;
+          O mount and go,
+            And be the Captain's Lady.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXV.
+
+OF A' THE AIRTS THE WIND CAN BLAW
+
+Tune--"_Miss Admiral Gordon's Strathspey._"
+
+[Bums wrote this charming song in honour of Joan Armour: he archly
+says in his notes, "P.S. it was during the honeymoon." Other
+versions are abroad; this one is from the manuscripts of the poet.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Of a' the airts the wind can blaw,
+      I dearly like the west,
+    For there the bonnie lassie lives,
+      The lassie I lo'e best:
+    There wild-woods grow, and rivers row,
+      And mony a hill between;
+    But day and night my fancy's flight
+      Is ever wi' my Jean.
+
+II.
+
+    I see her in the dewy flowers,
+      I see her sweet and fair:
+    I hear her in the tunefu' birds,
+      I hear her charm the air:
+    There's not a bonnie flower that springs
+      By fountain, shaw, or green,
+    There's not a bonnie bird that sings,
+      But minds me o' my Jean.
+
+III.
+
+    O blaw, ye westlin winds, blaw saft
+      Among the leafy trees,
+    Wi' balmy gale, frae hill and dale
+      Bring hame the laden bees;
+    And bring the lassie back to me
+      That's aye sae neat and clean;
+    Ae smile o' her wad banish care,
+      Sae charming is my Jean.
+
+IV.
+
+    What sighs and vows amang the knowes
+      Hae passed atween us twa!
+    How fond to meet, how wae to part,
+      That night she gaed awa!
+    The powers aboon can only ken,
+      To whom the heart is seen,
+    That nane can be sae dear to me
+      As my sweet lovely Jean!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXVI.
+
+FIRST WHEN MAGGY WAS MY CARE.
+
+Tune--"_Whistle o'er the lave o't."_
+
+[The air of this song was composed by John Bruce, of Dumfries,
+musician: the words, though originating in an olden strain, are wholly
+by Burns, and right bitter ones they are. The words and air are in the
+Museum.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    First when Maggy was my care,
+    Heaven, I thought, was in her air;
+    Now we're married--spier nae mair--
+      Whistle o'er the lave o't.--
+    Meg was meek, and Meg was mild,
+    Bonnie Meg was nature's child;
+    Wiser men than me's beguil'd--
+      Whistle o'er the lave o't.
+
+II.
+
+    How we live, my Meg and me,
+    How we love, and how we 'gree,
+    I care na by how few may see;
+      Whistle o'er the lave o't.--
+    Wha I wish were maggot's meat,
+    Dish'd up in her winding sheet,
+    I could write--but Meg maun see't--
+      Whistle o'er the lave o't.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXVII.
+
+O WERE I ON PARNASSUS HILL.
+
+Tune--"_My love is lost to me._"
+
+[The poet welcomed with this exquisite song his wife to Nithsdale: the
+air is one of Oswald's.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O, were I on Parnassus' hill!
+    Or had of Helicon my fill;
+    That I might catch poetic skill,
+      To sing how dear I love thee.
+    But Nith maun be my Muse's well;
+    My Muse maun be thy bonnie sel':
+    On Corsincon I'll glow'r and spell,
+      And write how dear I love thee.
+
+II.
+
+    Then come, sweet Muse, inspire my lay!
+    For a' the lee-lang simmer's day
+    I coudna sing, I coudna say,
+      How much, how dear, I love thee.
+    I see thee dancing o'er the green,
+    Thy waist sae jimp, thy limbs sae clean,
+    Thy tempting lips, thy roguish een--
+      By heaven and earth I love thee!
+
+III.
+
+    By night, by day, a-field, at hame,
+    The thoughts o' thee my breast inflame;
+    And aye I muse and sing thy name--
+      I only live to love thee.
+    Tho' I were doom'd to wander on
+    Beyond the sea, beyond the sun,
+    Till my last weary sand was run;
+      Till then--and then I love thee.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXVIII.
+
+THERE'S A YOUTH IN THIS CITY.
+
+_To a Gaelic Air._
+
+["This air," says Burns, "is claimed by Neil Gow, who calls it a
+Lament for his Brother. The first half-stanza of the song is old: the
+rest is mine." They are both in the Museum.]
+
+
+I.
+
+          There's a youth in this city,
+          It were a great pity
+    That he frae our lasses shou'd wander awa:
+          For he's bonnie an' braw,
+          Weel-favour'd an' a',
+    And his hair has a natural buckle an' a'.
+          His coat is the hue
+          Of his bonnet sae blue;
+    His feck it is white as the new-driven snaw;
+          His hose they are blae,
+          And his shoon like the slae.
+    And his clear siller buckles they dazzle us a'.
+
+II.
+
+          For beauty and fortune
+          The laddie's been courtin';
+    Weel-featured, weel-tocher'd, weel-mounted and braw;
+          But chiefly the siller,
+          That gars him gang till her,
+    The pennie's the jewel that beautifies a'.
+          There's Meg wi' the mailen
+          That fain wad a haen him;
+    And Susie, whose daddy was laird o' the ha';
+          There's lang-tocher'd Nancy
+          Maist fetters his fancy--
+    But the laddie's dear sel' he lo'es dearest of a'.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXIX.
+
+MY HEART'S IN THE HIGHLANDS.
+
+Tune--"_Failte na Miosg._"
+
+[The words and the air are in the Museum, to which they were
+contributed by Burns. He says, in his notes on that collection, "The
+first half-stanza of this song is old; the rest mine." Of the old
+strain no one has recorded any remembrance.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here;
+    My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer;
+    A-chasing the wild deer, and following the roe--
+    My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go.
+    Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North,
+    The birth-place of valour, the country of worth;
+    Wherever I wander, wherever I rove,
+    The hills of the Highlands for ever I love.
+
+II.
+
+    Farewell to the mountains high cover'd with snow;
+    Farewell to the straths and green valleys below:
+    Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods;
+    Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods.
+    My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here,
+    My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer;
+    Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe--
+    My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+LXXX.
+
+JOHN ANDERSON.
+
+Tune--"_John Anderson, my jo._"
+
+[Soon after the death of Burns, the very handsome Miscellanies of
+Brash and Reid, of Glasgow, contained what was called an improved John
+Anderson, from the pen of the Ayrshire bard; but, save the second
+stanza, none of the new matter looked like his hand.
+
+    "John Anderson, my jo, John,
+      When nature first began
+    To try her cannie hand, John,
+      Her master-piece was man;
+    And you amang them a', John,
+      Sae trig frae tap to toe,
+    She proved to be nae journey-work,
+      John Anderson, my jo."]
+
+
+I.
+
+    "John Anderson, my jo, John,
+      When we were first acquent,
+    Your locks were like the raven,
+      Your bonnie brow was brent;
+    But now your brow is beld, John,
+      Your locks are like the snaw;
+    But blessings on your frosty pow,
+      John Anderson, my jo.
+
+II.
+
+    John Anderson, my jo, John,
+      We clamb the hill thegither;
+    And mony a canty day, John,
+      We've had wi' ane anither:
+    Now we maun totter down, John,
+      But hand in hand we'll go;
+    And sleep thegither at the foot,
+      John Anderson, my jo.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXXI.
+
+OUR THRISSLES FLOURISHED FRESH AND FAIR.
+
+Tune--"_Awa Whigs, awa._"
+
+[Burns trimmed up this old Jacobite ditty for the Museum, and added
+some of the bitterest bits: the second and fourth verses are wholly
+his.]
+
+
+CHORUS.
+
+    Awa Whigs, awa!
+      Awa Whigs, awa!
+    Ye're but a pack o' traitor louns,
+      Ye'll do nae good at a'.
+
+I
+
+    Our thrissles flourish'd fresh and fair,
+      And bonnie bloom'd our roses;
+    But Whigs came like a frost in June,
+      And wither'd a' our posies.
+
+II.
+
+    Our ancient crown's fa'n in the dust--
+      Deil blin' them wi' the stoure o't;
+    And write their names in his black beuk,
+      Wha gae the Whigs the power o't.
+
+III.
+
+    Our sad decay in Church and State
+      Surpasses my descriving:
+    The Whigs came o'er us for a curse,
+      And we hae done wi' thriving.
+
+IV.
+
+    Grim vengeance lang ha's taen a nap,
+      But we may see him wauken;
+    Gude help the day when royal heads
+      Are hunted like a maukin.
+          Awa Whigs, awa!
+            Awa Whigs, awa!
+          Ye're but a pack o' traitor louns,
+            Ye'll do nae gude at a'.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXXII.
+
+CA' THE EWES.
+
+Tune--"_Ca' the ewes to the knowes._"
+
+[Most of this sweet pastoral is of other days: Burns made several
+emendations, and added the concluding verse. He afterwards, it will be
+observed, wrote for Thomson a second version of the subject and the
+air.]
+
+
+CHORUS
+
+    Ca' the ewes to the knowes,
+    Ca' them whare the heather grows,
+    Ca' them whare the burnie rowes,
+      My bonnie dearie!
+
+I.
+
+    As I gaed down the water-side,
+    There I met my shepherd lad,
+    He row'd me sweetly in his plaid,
+      An' he ca'd me his dearie.
+
+II.
+
+    Will ye gang down the water-side,
+    And see the waves sae sweetly glide,
+    Beneath the hazels spreading wide?
+      The moon it shines fu' clearly.
+
+III.
+
+    I was bred up at nae sic school,
+    My shepherd lad, to play the fool,
+    And a' the day to sit in dool,
+      And naebody to see me.
+
+IV.
+
+    Ye sall get gowns and ribbons meet,
+    Cauf-leather shoon upon your feet,
+    And in my arms ye'se lie and sleep,
+      And ye shall be my dearie.
+
+V.
+
+    If ye'll but stand to what ye've said,
+    I'se gang wi' you, my shepherd lad,
+    And ye may rowe me in your plaid,
+      And I shall be your dearie.
+
+VI.
+
+    While waters wimple to the sea;
+    While day blinks in the lift sae hie;
+    'Till clay-cauld death sall blin' my e'e,
+      Ye sall be my dearie.
+          Ca' the ewes to the knowes,
+          Ca' them whare the heather grows,
+          Ca' them whare the burnie rowes,
+            My bonnie dearie.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXXIII.
+
+MERRY HAE I BEEN TEETHIN' A HECKLE.
+
+Tune--"_Lord Breadalbone's March._"
+
+[Part of this song is old: Sir Harris Nicolas says it does not appear
+to be in the Museum: let him look again.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O merry hae I been teethin' a heckle,
+      And merry hae I been shapin' a spoon;
+    O merry hae I been cloutin a kettle,
+      And kissin' my Katie when a' was done.
+    O a' the lang day I ca' at my hammer,
+      An' a' the lang day I whistle and sing,
+    A' the lang night I cuddle my kimmer,
+      An' a' the lang night as happy's a king.
+
+II.
+
+    Bitter in dool I lickit my winnins,
+      O' marrying Bess to gie her a slave:
+    Blest be the hour she cool'd in her linens,
+      And blythe be the bird that sings on her grave.
+    Come to my arms, my Katie, my Katie,
+      An' come to my arms and kiss me again!
+    Drunken or sober, here's to thee, Katie!
+      And blest be the day I did it again.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXXIV.
+
+THE BRAES O' BALLOCHMYLE.
+
+Tune--"_The Braes o' Ballochmyle._"
+
+[Mary Whitefoord, eldest daughter of Sir John Whitefoord, was the
+heroine of this song: it was written when that ancient family left
+their ancient inheritance. It is in the Museum, with an air by Allan
+Masterton.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    The Catrine woods were yellow seen,
+      The flowers decay'd on Catrine lea,
+    Nae lav'rock sang on hillock green,
+      But nature sicken'd on the e'e.
+    Thro' faded groves Maria sang,
+      Hersel' in beauty's bloom the while,
+    And ay the wild-wood echoes rang,
+      Fareweel the Braes o' Ballochmyle!
+
+II.
+
+    Low in your wintry beds, ye flowers,
+      Again ye'll nourish fresh and fair;
+    Ye birdies dumb, in withering bowers,
+      Again ye'll charm the vocal air.
+    But here, alas! for me nae mair
+      Shall birdie charm, or floweret smile;
+    Fareweel the bonnie banks of Ayr,
+      Fareweel, fareweel! sweet Ballochmyle!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXXV.
+
+TO MARY IN HEAVEN.
+
+Tune--"_Death of Captain Cook._"
+
+[This sublime and affecting Ode was composed by Burns in one of his
+fits of melancholy, on the anniversary of Highland Mary's death. All
+the day he had been thoughtful, and at evening he went out, threw
+himself down by the side of one of his corn-ricks, and with his eyes
+fixed on "a bright, particular star," was found by his wife, who with
+difficulty brought him in from the chill midnight air. The song was
+already composed, and he had only to commit it to paper. It first
+appeared in the Museum.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Thou lingering star, with less'ning ray,
+      That lov'st to greet the early morn,
+    Again thou usherest in the day
+      My Mary from my soul was torn.
+    O Mary! dear departed shade!
+      Where is thy place of blissful rest?
+    Seest thou thy lover lowly laid?
+      Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?
+
+II.
+
+    That sacred hour can I forget,
+      Can I forget the hallow'd grove,
+    Where by the winding Ayr we met,
+      To live one day of parting love!
+    Eternity cannot efface
+      Those records dear of transports past;
+    Thy image at our last embrace;
+      Ah! little thought we 'twas our last!
+
+III.
+
+    Ayr, gurgling, kiss'd his pebbled shore,
+      O'erhung with wild woods, thick'ning green;
+    The fragrant birch, and hawthorn, hoar,
+      Twin'd am'rous round the raptured scene;
+    The flow'rs sprang wanton to be prest,
+      The birds sang love on every spray--
+    Till too, too soon, the glowing west
+      Proclaim'd the speed of winged day.
+
+IV.
+
+    Still o'er these scenes my mem'ry wakes,
+      And fondly broods with miser care!
+    Time but th' impression stronger makes,
+      As streams their channels deeper wear.
+    My Mary, dear departed shade!
+      Where is thy place of blissful rest?
+    Seest thou thy lover lowly laid?
+      Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXXVI.
+
+EPPIE ADAIR.
+
+Tune--"_My Eppie._"
+
+["This song," says Sir Harris Nicolas, "which has been ascribed to
+Burns by some of his editors, is in the Musical Museum without any
+name." It is partly an old strain, corrected by Burns: he communicated
+it to the Museum.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    An' O! my Eppie,
+    My jewel, my Eppie!
+    Wha wadna be happy
+      Wi' Eppie Adair?
+    By love, and by beauty,
+    By law, and by duty,
+    I swear to be true to
+      My Eppie Adair!
+
+II.
+
+    An' O! my Eppie,
+    My jewel, my Eppie!
+    Wha wadna be happy
+      Wi' Eppie Adair?
+    A' pleasure exile me,
+    Dishonour defile me,
+    If e'er I beguile thee,
+      My Eppie Adair!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXXVII.
+
+THE BATTLE OF SHERIFF-MUIR.
+
+Tune--"_Cameronian Rant._"
+
+[One Barclay, a dissenting clergyman in Edinburgh, wrote a rhyming
+dialogue between two rustics, on the battle of Sheriff-muir: Burns was
+in nowise pleased with the way in which the reverend rhymer handled
+the Highland clans, and wrote this modified and improved version.]
+
+
+I.
+
+      "O cam ye here the fight to shun,
+      Or herd the sheep wi' me, man?
+    Or were ye at the Sherra-muir,
+      And did the battle see, man?"
+    I saw the battle, sair and tough,
+    And reekin' red ran mony a sheugh.
+    My heart, for fear, gaed sough for sough,
+    To hear the thuds, and see the cluds,
+    O' clans frae woods, in tartan duds,
+      Wha glaum'd at kingdoms three, man.
+
+II.
+
+    The red-coat lads, wi' black cockades,
+      To meet them were na slaw, man;
+    They rush'd and push'd, and blude outgush'd,
+      And mony a bouk did fa', man:
+    The great Argyll led on his files,
+    I wat they glanc'd for twenty miles:
+    They hough'd the clans like nine-pin kyles,
+    They hack'd and hash'd, while broad-swords clash'd,
+    And thro' they dash'd, and hew'd, and smash'd,
+      'Till fey men died awa, man.
+
+III.
+
+    But had you seen the philibegs,
+      And skyrin tartan trews, man;
+    When in the teeth they dar'd our Whigs
+      And covenant true blues, man;
+    In lines extended lang and large,
+    When bayonets opposed the targe,
+    And thousands hasten'd to the charge,
+    Wi' Highland wrath they frae the sheath,
+    Drew blades o' death, 'till, out o' breath,
+      They fled like frighted doos, man.
+
+IV.
+
+    "O how deil, Tam, can that be true?
+      The chase gaed frae the north, man;
+    I saw myself, they did pursue
+      The horsemen back to Forth, man;
+    And at Dumblane, in my ain sight,
+    They took the brig wi' a' their might,
+    And straught to Stirling winged their flight;
+    But, cursed lot! the gates were shut;
+    And mony a huntit, poor red-coat,
+      For fear amaist did swarf, man!"
+
+V.
+
+    My sister Kate cam up the gate
+      Wi' crowdie unto me, man;
+    She swore she saw some rebels run
+      Frae Perth unto Dundee, man:
+    Their left-hand general had nae skill,
+    The Angus lads had nae good-will
+    That day their neebors' blood to spill;
+    For fear, by foes, that they should lose
+    Their cogs o' brose--they scar'd at blows.
+      And so it goes, you see, man.
+
+VI.
+
+    They've lost some gallant gentlemen,
+      Amang the Highland clans, man!
+    I fear my Lord Panmure is slain,
+      Or fallen in Whiggish hands, man:
+    Now wad ye sing this double fight,
+    Some fell for wrang, and some for right;
+    And mony bade the world guid-night;
+    Then ye may tell, how pell and mell,
+    By red claymores, and muskets' knell,
+    Wi' dying yell, the Tories fell,
+      And Whigs to hell did flee, man.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXXVIII.
+
+YOUNG JOCKEY.
+
+Tune--"_Young Jockey._"
+
+[With the exception of three or four lines, this song, though marked
+in the Museum as an old song with additions, is the work of Burns. He
+often seems to have sat down to amend or modify old verses, and found
+it easier to make verses wholly new.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Young Jockey was the blythest lad
+      In a' our town or here awa:
+    Fu' blythe he whistled at the gaud,
+      Fu' lightly danced he in the ha'.
+    He roosed my een, sae bonnie blue,
+      He roos'd my waist sae genty sma',
+    And ay my heart came to my mou'
+      When ne'er a body heard or saw.
+
+II.
+
+    My Jockey toils upon the plain,
+      Thro' wind and weet, thro' frost and snaw;
+    And o'er the lea I leuk fu' fain,
+      When Jockey's owsen hameward ca'.
+    An' ay the night comes round again,
+      When in his arms he takes me a',
+    An' ay he vows he'll be my ain,
+      As lang's he has a breath to draw.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXXIX.
+
+O WILLIE BREW'D.
+
+Tune--"_Willie brew'd a peck o' maut._"
+
+[The scene of this song is Laggan, in Nithsdale, a small estate which
+Nicol bought by the advice of the poet. It was composed in memory of
+the house-heating. "We had such a joyous meeting," says Burns, "that
+Masterton and I agreed, each in our own way, to celebrate the
+business." The Willie who made the browst was, therefore, William
+Nicol; the Allan who composed the air, Allan Masterton; and he who
+wrote this choicest of convivial songs, Robert Burns.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O, Willie brew'd a peck o' maut,
+      And Rob and Allan came to see:
+    Three blither hearts, that lee-lang night
+      Ye wad na find in Christendie.
+          We are na fou, we're no that fou,
+            But just a drappie in our e'e;
+          The cock may craw, the day may daw,
+            And aye we'll taste the barley bree.
+
+II.
+
+    Here are we met, three merry boys,
+      Three merry boys, I trow, are we;
+    And mony a night we've merry been,
+      And mony mae we hope to be!
+
+III.
+
+    It is the moon--I ken her horn,
+      That's blinkin in the lift sae hie;
+    She shines sae bright to wyle us hame,
+      But, by my sooth, she'll wait a wee!
+
+IV.
+
+    Wha first shall rise to gang awa',
+      A cuckold, coward loon is he!
+    Wha last beside his chair shall fa',
+      He is the king amang us three!
+          We are na fou, we're no that fou,
+            But just a drappie in our e'e;
+          The cock may craw, the day may daw,
+            And aye we'll taste the barley bree.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XC.
+
+WHARE HAE YE BEEN.
+
+Tune--_"Killiecrankie._"
+
+["This song," says Sir Harris Nicolas, "is in the Museum without
+Burns's name." It was composed by Burns on the battle of
+Killiecrankie, and sent in his own handwriting to Johnson; he puts it
+in the mouth of a Whig.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Whare hae ye been sae braw, lad?
+      Whare hae ye been sae brankie, O?
+    O, whare hae ye been sae braw, lad?
+      Cam ye by Killiecrankie, O?
+    An' ye had been whare I hae been,
+      Ye wad na been so cantie, O;
+    An' ye had seen what I hae seen,
+      On the braes o' Killiecrankie, O.
+
+II.
+
+    I fought at land, I fought at sea;
+      At hame I fought my auntie, O;
+    But I met the Devil an' Dundee,
+      On the braes o' Killiecrankie, O.
+    The bauld Pitcur fell in a furr,
+      An' Claver'se got a clankie, O;
+    Or I had fed on Athole gled,
+      On the braes o' Killiecrankie, O.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XCI.
+
+I GAED A WAEFU' GATE YESTREEN.
+
+Air--"_The blue-eyed lass."_
+
+[This blue-eyed lass was Jean Jeffry, daughter to the minister of
+Lochmaben: she was then a rosy girl of seventeen, with winning manners
+and laughing blue eyes. She is now Mrs. Renwick, and lives in New
+York.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    I gaed a waefu' gate yestreen,
+      A gate, I fear, I'll dearlie rue;
+    I gat my death frae twa sweet een,
+      Twa lovely een o' bonnie blue.
+    'Twas not her golden ringlets bright;
+      Her lips, like roses, wat wi' dew,
+    Her heaving bosom, lily-white--
+      It was her een sae bonnie blue.
+
+II.
+
+    She talk'd, she smil'd, my heart she wyl'd;
+      She charm'd my soul--I wist na how:
+    And ay the stound, the deadly wound,
+      Cam frae her een sae bonnie blue.
+    But spare to speak, and spare to speed;
+      She'll aiblins listen to my vow:
+    Should she refuse, I'll lay my dead
+      To her twa een sae bonnie blue.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XCII.
+
+THE BANKS OF NITH.
+
+Tune--"_Robie donna Gorach._"
+
+[The command which the Comyns held on the Nith was lost to the
+Douglasses: the Nithsdale power, on the downfall of that proud name,
+was divided; part went to the Charteris's and the better portion to
+the Maxwells: the Johnstones afterwards came in for a share, and now
+the Scots prevail.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    The Thames flows proudly to the sea,
+      Where royal cities stately stand;
+    But sweeter flows the Nith, to me,
+      Where Comyns ance had high command:
+    When shall I see that honour'd land,
+      That winding stream I love so dear!
+    Must wayward Fortune's adverse hand
+      For ever, ever keep me here?
+
+II.
+
+    How lovely, Nith, thy fruitful vales,
+      Where spreading hawthorns gaily bloom!
+    How sweetly wind thy sloping dales,
+      Where lambkins wanton thro' the broom!
+    Tho' wandering now, must be my doom,
+      Far from thy bonnie banks and braes,
+    May there my latest hours consume,
+      Amang the friends of early days!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XCIII.
+
+MY HEART IS A-BREAKING, DEAR TITTIE.
+
+Tune--"_Tam Glen._"
+
+[Tam Glen is the title of an old Scottish song, and older air: of the
+former all that remains is a portion of the chorus. Burns when he
+wrote it sent it to the Museum.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    My heart is a-breaking, dear Tittie!
+      Some counsel unto me come len',
+    To anger them a' is a pity,
+      But what will I do wi' Tam Glen?
+
+II.
+
+    I'm thinking wi' sic a braw fellow,
+      In poortith I might make a fen';
+    What care I in riches to wallow,
+      If I maunna marry Tam Glen?
+
+III.
+
+    There's Lowrie the laird o' Dumeller,
+      "Gude day to you, brute!" he comes ben:
+    He brags and he blaws o' his siller,
+      But when will he dance like Tam Glen?
+
+IV.
+
+    My minnie does constantly deave me,
+      And bids me beware o' young men;
+    They flatter, she says, to deceive me,
+      But wha can think so o' Tam Glen?
+
+V.
+
+    My daddie says, gin I'll forsake him,
+      He'll gie me guid hunder marks ten:
+    But, if it's ordain'd I maun take him,
+      O wha will I get but Tam Glen?
+
+VI.
+
+    Yestreen at the Valentine's dealing,
+      My heart to my mou' gied a sten;
+    For thrice I drew ane without failing,
+      And thrice it was written--Tam Glen.
+
+VII.
+
+    The last Halloween I was waukin
+      My droukit sark-sleeve, as ye ken;
+    His likeness cam up the house staukin,
+      And the very grey breeks o' Tam Glen!
+
+VIII.
+
+    Come counsel, dear Tittie! don't tarry--
+      I'll gie you my bonnie black hen,
+    Gif ye will advise me to marry
+      The lad that I lo'e dearly, Tam Glen.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XCIV.
+
+FRAE THE FRIENDS AND LAND I LOVE.
+
+Air--"_Carron Side._"
+
+[Burns says, "I added the four last lines, by way of giving a turn to
+the theme of the poem, such as it is." The rest of the song is
+supposed to be from the same hand: the lines are not to be found in
+earlier collections.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Frae the friends and land I love,
+      Driv'n by fortune's felly spite,
+    Frae my best belov'd I rove,
+      Never mair to taste delight;
+    Never mair maun hope to find,
+      Ease frae toil, relief frae care:
+    When remembrance wracks the mind,
+      Pleasures but unveil despair.
+
+II.
+
+    Brightest climes shall mirk appear,
+      Desert ilka blooming shore,
+    Till the Fates, nae mair severe,
+      Friendship, love, and peace restore;
+    Till Revenge, wi' laurell'd head,
+      Bring our banish'd hame again;
+    And ilka loyal bonnie lad
+      Cross the seas and win his ain.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XCV.
+
+SWEET CLOSES THE EVENING.
+
+Tune--"_Craigie-burn-wood._"
+
+[This is one of several fine songs in honour of Jean Lorimer, of
+Kemmis-hall, Kirkmahoe, who for some time lived on the banks of the
+Craigie-burn, near Moffat. It was composed in aid of the eloquence of
+a Mr. Gillespie, who was in love with her: but it did not prevail, for
+she married an officer of the name of Whelpdale, lived with him for a
+month or so: reasons arose on both sides which rendered separation
+necessary; she then took up her residence in Dumfries, where she had
+many opportunities of seeing the poet. She lived till lately.]
+
+
+CHORUS.
+
+    Beyond thee, dearie, beyond thee, dearie,
+      And O, to be lying beyond thee;
+    O sweetly, soundly, weel may he sleep
+      That's laid in the bed beyond thee!
+
+I.
+
+    Sweet closes the evening on Craigie-burn-wood,
+      And blithely awaukens the morrow;
+    But the pride of the spring in the Craigie-burn-wood
+      Can yield to me nothing but sorrow.
+
+II.
+
+    I see the spreading leaves and flowers,
+      I hear the wild birds singing;
+    But pleasure they hae nane for me,
+      While care my heart is wringing.
+
+III.
+
+    I canna tell, I maunna tell,
+      I darena for your anger;
+    But secret love will break my heart,
+      If I conceal it langer.
+
+IV.
+
+    I see thee gracefu', straight, and tall,
+      I see thee sweet and bonnie;
+    But oh! what will my torments be,
+      If thou refuse thy Johnnie!
+
+V.
+
+    To see thee in anither's arms,
+      In love to lie and languish,
+    'Twad be my dead, that will be seen,
+      My heart wad burst wi' anguish.
+
+VI.
+
+    But, Jeanie, say thou wilt be mine,
+      Say, thou lo'es nane before me;
+    And a' my days o' life to come
+      I'll gratefully adore thee.
+          Beyond thee, dearie, beyond thee, dearie,
+            And O, to be lying beyond thee;
+          O sweetly, soundly, weel may he sleep
+            That's laid in the bed beyond thee!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XCVI.
+
+COCK UP YOUR BEAVER.
+
+Tune--"_Cock up your beaver._"
+
+["Printed," says Sir Harris Nicolas, "in the Musical Museum, but not
+with Burns's name." It is an old song, eked out and amended by the
+poet: all the last verse, save the last line, is his; several of the
+lines too of the first verse, have felt his amending hand: he
+communicated it to the Museum.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    When first my brave Johnnie lad
+      Came to this town,
+    He had a blue bonnet
+      That wanted the crown;
+    But now he has gotten
+      A hat and a feather,--
+    Hey, brave Johnnie lad,
+      Cock up your beaver!
+
+II.
+
+    Cock up your beaver,
+      And cock it fu' sprush,
+    We'll over the border
+      And gie them a brush;
+    There's somebody there
+      We'll teach better behaviour--
+    Hey, brave Johnnie lad,
+      Cock up your beaver!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XCVII.
+
+MEIKLE THINKS MY LUVE.
+
+Tune--"_My tocher's the jewel._"
+
+[These verses were written by Burns for the Museum, to an air by
+Oswald: but he wished them to be sung to a tune called "Lord Elcho's
+favourite," of which he was an admirer.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O Meikle thinks my luve o' my beauty,
+      And meikle thinks my luve o' my kin;
+    But little thinks my luve I ken brawlie
+      My tocher's the jewel has charms for him.
+    It's a' for the apple he'll nourish the tree;
+      It's a' for the hiney he'll cherish the bee;
+    My laddie's sae meikle in luve wi' the siller,
+      He canna hae lure to spare for me.
+
+II.
+
+    Your proffer o' luve's an airl-penny,
+      My tocher's the bargain ye wad buy;
+    But an ye be crafty, I am cunnin',
+      Sae ye wi' anither your fortune maun try.
+    Ye're like to the timmer o' yon rotten tree,
+      Ye'll slip frae me like a knotless thread,
+    And ye'll crack your credit wi' mae nor me.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XCVIII.
+
+GANE IS THE DAY.
+
+Tune--"_Gudewife count the lawin._"
+
+[The air as well as words of this song were furnished to the Museum by
+Burns. "The chorus," he says, "is part of an old song."]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Gane is the day, and mirk's the night,
+    But we'll ne'er stray for fau't o' light,
+    For ale and brandy's stars and moon,
+    And blude-red wine's the rising sun.
+        Then gudewife count the lawin,
+          The lawin, the lawin;
+        Then gudewife count the lawin,
+          And bring a coggie mair!
+
+II.
+
+    There's wealth and ease for gentlemen,
+    And simple folk maun fight and fen;
+    But here we're a' in ae accord,
+    For ilka man that's drunk's a lord.
+
+III.
+
+    My coggie is a haly pool,
+    That heals the wounds o' care and dool;
+    And pleasure is a wanton trout,
+    An' ye drink but deep ye'll find him out.
+        Then gudewife count the lawin;
+          The lawin, the lawin,
+        Then gudewife count the lawin,
+          And bring a coggie mair!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XCIX.
+
+THERE'LL NEVER BE PEACE.
+
+Tune--"_There art few gude fellows when Willie's awa._"
+
+[The bard was in one of his Jacobitical moods when he wrote this song.
+The air is a well known one, called "There's few gude fellows when
+Willie's awa." But of the words none, it is supposed, are
+preserved.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    By yon castle wa', at the close of the day,
+    I heard a man sing, though his head it was gray;
+    And as he was singing the tears down came,
+    There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame.
+    The church is in ruins, the state is in jars;
+    Delusions, oppressions, and murderous wars:
+    We darena weel say't, though we ken wha's to blame,
+    There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame!
+
+II.
+
+    My seven braw sons for Jamie drew sword,
+    And now I greet round their green beds in the yerd.
+    It brak the sweet heart of my faithfu' auld dame--
+    There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame.
+    Now life is a burthen that bows me down,
+    Since I tint my bairns, and he tint his crown;
+    But till my last moments my words are the same--
+    There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+C.
+
+HOW CAN I BE BLYTHE AND GLAD?
+
+Tune--"_The bonnie lad that's far awa._"
+
+[This lamentation was written, it is said, in allusion to the
+sufferings of Jean Armour, when her correspondence with Burns was
+discovered by her family.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O how can I be blythe and glad,
+      Or how can I gang brisk and braw,
+    When the bonnie lad that I lo'e best
+      Is o'er the hills and far awa?
+    When the bonnie lad that I lo'e best
+      Is o'er the hills and far awa.
+
+II.
+
+    It's no the frosty winter wind,
+      It's no the driving drift and snaw;
+    But ay the tear comes in my e'e,
+      To think on him that's far awa.
+    But ay the tear comes in my e'e,
+      To think on him that's far awa.
+
+III.
+
+    My father pat me frae his door,
+      My friends they line disown'd me a',
+    But I hae ane will tak' my part,
+      The bonnie lad that's far awa.
+    But I hae ane will tak' my part,
+      The bonnie lad that's far awa.
+
+IV.
+
+    A pair o' gloves he gae to me,
+      And silken snoods he gae me twa;
+    And I will wear them for his sake,
+      The bonnie lad that's far awa.
+    And I will wear them for his sake,
+      The bonnie lad that's far awa.
+
+V.
+
+    O weary Winter soon will pass,
+      And spring will cleed the birken shaw;
+    And my young babie will be born,
+      And he'll be hame that's far awa.
+    And my young babie will be born,
+      And he'll be hame that's far awa.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CI.
+
+I DO CONFESS THOU ART SAE FAIR.
+
+Tune--"_I do confess thou art sae fair._"
+
+["I do think," says Burns, in allusion to this song, "that I have
+improved the simplicity of the sentiments by giving them a Scottish
+dress." The original song is of great elegance and beauty: it was
+written by Sir Robert Aytoun, secretary to Anne of Denmark, Queen of
+James I.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    I do confess thou art sae fair,
+      I wad been o'er the lugs in love,
+    Had I na found the slightest prayer
+      That lips could speak thy heart could muve.
+    I do confess thee sweet, but find
+      Thou art sae thriftless o' thy sweets,
+    Thy favours are the silly wind,
+      That kisses ilka thing it meets.
+
+II.
+
+    See yonder rose-bud, rich in dew,
+      Amang its native briers sae coy;
+    How sune it tines its scent and hue
+      When pou'd and worn a common toy!
+    Sic fate, ere lang, shall thee betide,
+      Tho' thou may gaily bloom awhile;
+    Yet sune thou shalt be thrown aside
+      Like ony common weed and vile.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CII.
+
+YON WILD MOSSY MOUNTAINS.
+
+Tune--"_Yon wild mossy mountains._"
+
+["This song alludes to a part of my private history, which is of no
+consequence to the world to know." These are the words of Burns: he
+sent the song to the Musical Museum; the heroine is supposed to be the
+"Nannie," who dwelt near the Lugar.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Yon wild mossy mountains sae lofty and wide,
+    That nurse in their bosom the youth o' the Clyde,
+    Where the grouse lead their coveys thro' the heather to feed,
+    And the shepherd tents his flock as he pipes on his reed.
+      Where the grouse lead their coveys thro' the heather to feed,
+      And the shepherd tents his flock as he pipes on his reed.
+
+II.
+
+    Not Gowrie's rich valleys, nor Forth's sunny shores,
+    To me hae the charms o' yon wild, mossy moors;
+    For there, by a lanely and sequester'd stream,
+    Resides a sweet lassie, my thought and my dream.
+      For there, by a lanely and sequester'd stream,
+      Resides a sweet lassie, my thought and my dream.
+
+III.
+
+    Amang thae wild mountains shall still be my path,
+    Ilk stream foaming down its ain green, narrow strath;
+    For there, wi' my lassie, the day lang I rove,
+    While o'er us unheeded flee the swift hours o' love.
+      For there wi' my lassie, the day lang I rove,
+      While o'er us unheeded flee the swift hours o' love.
+
+IV.
+
+    She is not the fairest, altho' she is fair;
+    O' nice education but sma' is her share;
+    Her parentage humble as humble can be;
+    But I lo'e the dear lassie because she lo'es me.
+      Her parentage humble as humble can be;
+      But I lo'e the dear lassie because she lo'es me.
+
+V.
+
+    To beauty what man but maun yield him a prize,
+    In her armour of glances, and blushes, and sighs?
+    And when wit and refinement hae polish'd her darts,
+    They dazzle our een as they flee to our hearts.
+      And when wit and refinement hae polish'd her darts,
+      They dazzle our een, as they flee to our hearts.
+
+VI.
+
+    But kindness, sweet kindness, in the fond sparkling e'e,
+    Has lustre outshining the diamond to me:
+    And the heart beating love as I'm clasp'd in her arms,
+    O, these are my lassie's all-conquering charms!
+      And the heart beating love as I'm clasp'd in her arms,
+      O, these are my lassie's all-conquering charms!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CIII.
+
+IT IS NA, JEAN, THY BONNIE FACE.
+
+Tune--"_The Maid's Complaint._"
+
+[Burns found this song in English attire, bestowed a Scottish dress
+upon it, and published it in the Museum, together with the air by
+Oswald, which is one of his best.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    It is na, Jean, thy bonnie face,
+      Nor shape that I admire,
+    Altho' thy beauty and thy grace
+      Might weel awake desire.
+    Something in ilka part o' thee,
+      To praise, to love, I find;
+    But dear as is thy form to me,
+      Still dearer is thy mind.
+
+II.
+
+    Nae mair ungen'rous wish I hae,
+      Nor stronger in my breast,
+    Than, if I canna mak thee sae,
+      at least to see thee blest.
+    Content am I, if heaven shall give
+      But happiness to thee:
+    And as wi' thee I'd wish to live,
+      For thee I'd bear to die.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CIV.
+
+WHEN I THINK ON THE HAPPY DAYS.
+
+[These verses were in latter years expanded by Burns into a song, for
+the collection of Thomson: the song will be found in its place: the
+variations are worthy of preservation.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    When I think on the happy days
+      I spent wi' you, my dearie;
+    And now what lands between us lie,
+      How can I be but eerie!
+
+II.
+
+    How slow ye move, ye heavy hours,
+      As ye were wae and weary!
+    It was na sae ye glinted by,
+      When I was wi' my dearie.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CV.
+
+WHAN I SLEEP I DREAM.
+
+[This presents another version of song LXV. Variations are to a poet
+what changes are in the thoughts of a painter, and speak of fertility
+of sentiment in both.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Whan I sleep I dream,
+      Whan I wauk I'm eerie,
+    Sleep I canna get,
+      For thinkin' o' my dearie.
+
+II.
+
+    Lanely night comes on,
+      A' the house are sleeping,
+    I think on the bonnie lad
+      That has my heart a keeping.
+        Ay waukin O, waukin ay and wearie,
+          Sleep I canna get, for thinkin' o' my dearie.
+
+III.
+
+    Lanely nights come on,
+      A' the house are sleeping,
+    I think on my bonnie lad,
+      An' I blear my een wi' greetin'!
+        Ay waukin, &c.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CVI.
+
+I MURDER HATE.
+
+[These verses are to be found in a volume which may be alluded to
+without being named, in which many of Burns's strains, some looser
+than these, are to be found.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    I murder hate by field or flood,
+      Tho' glory's name may screen us:
+    In wars at hame I'll spend my blood,
+      Life-giving wars of Venus.
+
+II.
+
+    The deities that I adore
+      Are social Peace and Plenty,
+    I'm better pleas'd to make one more,
+      Than be the death of twenty.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CVII.
+
+O GUDE ALE COMES.
+
+[These verses are in the museum; the first two are old, the concluding
+one is by Burns.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O gude ale comes, and gude ale goes,
+    Gude ale gars me sell my hose,
+    Sell my hose, and pawn my shoon,
+    Gude ale keeps my heart aboon.
+
+II.
+
+    I had sax owsen in a pleugh,
+    They drew a' weel eneugh,
+    I sell'd them a' just ane by ane;
+    Gude ale keeps my heart aboon.
+
+III.
+
+    Gude ale hands me bare and busy,
+    Gars me moop wi' the servant hizzie,
+    Stand i' the stool when I hae done,
+    Gude ale keeps my heart aboon.
+        O gude ale comes, &c.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CVIII.
+
+ROBIN SHURE IN HAIRST.
+
+[This is an old chaunt, out of which Burns brushed some loose
+expressions, added the third and fourth verses, and sent it to the
+Museum.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Robin shure in hairst,
+      I shure wi' him,
+    Fient a heuk had I,
+      Yet I stack by him.
+
+II.
+
+    I gaed up to Dunse,
+      To warp a wab o' plaiden,
+    At his daddie's yett,
+      Wha met me but Robin.
+
+III.
+
+    Was na Robin bauld,
+      Tho' I was a cotter,
+    Play'd me sic a trick,
+      And me the eller's dochter?
+          Robin share in hairst, &c.
+
+IV.
+
+    Robin promis'd me
+      A' my winter vittle;
+    Fient haet he had but three
+      Goose feathers and a whittle.
+          Robin share in hairst, &c.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CIX.
+
+BONNIE PEG.
+
+[A fourth verse makes the moon a witness to the endearments of these
+lovers; but that planet sees more indiscreet matters than it is right
+to describe.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    As I came in by our gate end,
+      As day was waxin' weary,
+    O wha came tripping down the street,
+      But Bonnie Peg my dearie!
+
+II.
+
+    Her air sae sweet, and shape complete,
+      Wi' nae proportion wanting;
+    The Queen of Love did never move
+      Wi' motion mair enchanting.
+
+III.
+
+    Wi' linked hands, we took the sands
+      A-down yon winding river;
+    And, oh! that hour and broomy bower,
+      Can I forget it ever?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CX.
+
+GUDEEN TO YOU, KIMMER.
+
+[This song in other days was a controversial one, and continued some
+sarcastic allusions to Mother Rome and her brood of seven sacraments,
+five of whom were illegitimate. Burns changed the meaning, and
+published his altered version in the Museum.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Gudeen to you, Kimmer,
+      And how do ye do?
+    Hiccup, quo' Kimmer,
+      The better that I'm fou.
+        We're a' noddin, nid nid noddin,
+        We're a' noddin, at our house at hame.
+
+II.
+
+    Kate sits i' the neuk,
+      Suppin hen broo;
+    Deil tak Kate
+      An' she be na noddin too!
+        We're a' noddin, &c.
+
+III.
+
+    How's a' wi' you, Kimmer,
+      And how do ye fare?
+    A pint o' the best o't,
+      And twa pints mair.
+        We're a' noddin, &c.
+
+IV.
+
+    How's a' wi' you, Kimmer,
+      And how do ye thrive;
+    How many bairns hae ye?
+      Quo' Kimmer, I hae five.
+        We're a' noddin, &c.
+
+V.
+
+    Are they a' Johnie's?
+      Eh! atweel no:
+    Twa o' them were gotten
+      When Johnie was awa.
+        We're a noddin, &c.
+
+VI.
+
+    Cats like milk,
+      And dogs like broo;
+    Lads like lasses weel,
+      And lasses lads too.
+        We're a' noddin, &c.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXI.
+
+AH, CHLORIS, SINCE IT MAY NA BE.
+
+Tune--"_Major Graham._"
+
+[Sir Harris Nicolas found these lines on Chloris among the papers of
+Burns, and printed them in his late edition of the poet's works.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Ah, Chloris, since it may na be,
+      That thou of love wilt hear;
+    If from the lover thou maun flee,
+      Yet let the friend be dear.
+
+II.
+
+    Altho' I love my Chloris mair
+      Than ever tongue could tell;
+    My passion I will ne'er declare,
+      I'll say, I wish thee well.
+
+III.
+
+    Tho' a' my daily care thou art,
+      And a' my nightly dream,
+    I'll hide the struggle in my heart,
+      And say it is esteem.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXII.
+
+O SAW YE MY DEARIE.
+
+Tune--"_Eppie Macnab._"
+
+["Published in the Museum," says Sir Harris Nicolas, "without any
+name." Burns corrected some lines in the old song, which had more wit,
+he said, than decency, and added others, and sent his amended version
+to Johnson.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O saw ye my dearie, my Eppie M'Nab?
+    O saw ye my dearie, my Eppie M'Nab?
+    She's down in the yard, she's kissin' the laird,
+    She winna come hame to her ain Jock Rab.
+    O come thy ways to me, my Eppie M'Nab!
+    O come thy ways to me, my Eppie M'Nab!
+    Whate'er thou hast done, be it late, be it soon,
+    Thou's welcome again to thy ain Jock Rab.
+
+II.
+
+    What says she, my dearie, my Eppie M'Nab?
+    What says she, my dearie, my Eppie M'Nab?
+    She lets thee to wit, that she has thee forgot,
+    And for ever disowns thee, her ain Jock Rab.
+    O had I ne'er seen thee, my Eppie M'Nab!
+    O had I ne'er seen thee, my Eppie M'Nab!
+    As light as the air, and fause as thou's fair,
+    Thou's broken the heart o' thy ain Jock Rab.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXIII.
+
+WHA IS THAT AT MY BOWER-DOOR.
+
+Tune--"_Lass an I come near thee._"
+
+[The "Auld man and the Widow," in Ramsay's collection is said, by
+Gilbert Burns, to have suggested this song to his brother: it first
+appeared in the Museum.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Wha is that at my bower door?
+      O, wha is it but Findlay?
+    Then gae your gate, ye'se nae be here!--
+      Indeed, maun I, quo' Findlay.
+    What mak ye sae like a thief?
+      O come and see, quo' Findlay;
+    Before the morn ye'll work mischief;
+      Indeed will I, quo' Findlay.
+
+II.
+
+    Gif I rise and let you in?
+      Let me in, quo' Findlay;
+    Ye'll keep me waukin wi' your din;
+      Indeed will I, quo' Findlay.
+    In my bower if you should stay?
+      Let me stay, quo' Findlay;
+    I fear ye'll bide till break o' day;
+      Indeed will I, quo' Findlay.
+
+III.
+
+    Here this night if ye remain;--
+      I'll remain, quo' Findlay;
+    I dread ye'll learn the gate again;
+      Indeed will I, quo' Findlay.
+    What may pass within this bower,--
+      Let it pass, quo' Findlay;
+    Ye maun conceal till your last hour;
+      Indeed will I, quo' Findlay!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXIV.
+
+WHAT CAN A YOUNG LASSIE.
+
+Tune--"_What can a young lassie do wi' an auld man._"
+
+[In the old strain, which partly suggested this song, the heroine
+threatens only to adorn her husband's brows: Burns proposes a system
+of domestic annoyance to break his heart.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    What can a young lassie, what shall a young lassie,
+      What can a young lassie do wi' an auld man?
+    Bad luck on the pennie that tempted my minnie
+      To sell her poor Jenny for siller an' lan'!
+    Bad luck on the pennie that tempted my minnie
+      To sell her poor Jenny for siller an' lan'!
+
+II.
+
+    He's always compleenin' frae mornin' to e'enin',
+      He hosts and he hirples the weary day lang;
+    He's doyl't and he's dozin', his bluid it is frozen,
+      O, dreary's the night wi' a crazy auld man!
+    He's doyl't and he's dozin', his bluid it is frozen,
+      O, dreary's the night wi' a crazy auld man!
+
+III.
+
+    He hums and he hankers, he frets and he cankers,
+      I never can please him, do a' that I can;
+    He's peevish and jealous of a' the young fellows:
+      O, dool on the day I met wi' an auld man!
+    He's peevish and jealous of a' the young fellows:
+      O, dool on the day I met wi' an auld man!
+
+IV.
+
+    My auld auntie Katie upon me takes pity,
+      I'll do my endeavour to follow her plan;
+    I'll cross him, and wrack him, until I heart-break him,
+      And then his auld brass will buy me a new pan.
+    I'll cross him, and wrack him, until I heart-break him,
+    And then his auld brass will buy me a new pan.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXV.
+
+THE BONNIE WEE THING.
+
+Tune--"_Bonnie wee thing._"
+
+["Composed," says the poet, "on my little idol, the charming, lovely
+Davies."]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Bonnie wee thing, cannie wee thing,
+      Lovely wee thing, wert thou mine,
+    I wad wear thee in my bosom,
+      Lest my jewel I should tine.
+    Wishfully I look and languish
+      In that bonnie face o' thine;
+    And my heart it stounds wi' anguish,
+      Lest my wee thing be na mine.
+
+II.
+
+    Wit, and grace, and love, and beauty
+      In ae constellation shine;
+    To adore thee is my duty,
+      Goddess o' this soul o' mine!
+    Bonnie wee thing, cannie wee thing.
+      Lovely wee thing, wert thou mine,
+    I wad wear thee in my bosom,
+      Lest my jewel I should tine!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXVI.
+
+THE TITHER MOON.
+
+_To a Highland Air._
+
+["The tune of this song," says Burns, "is originally from the
+Highlands. I have heard a Gaelic song to it, which was not by any
+means a lady's song." "It occurs," says Sir Harris Nicolas, "in the
+Museum, without the name of Burns." It was sent in the poet's own
+handwriting to Johnson, and is believed to be his composition.]
+
+
+I.
+
+          The tither morn,
+          When I forlorn,
+    Aneath an oak sat moaning,
+          I did na trow
+          I'd see my Jo,
+    Beside me, gain the gloaming.
+          But he sae trig,
+          Lap o'er the rig.
+    And dawtingly did cheer me,
+          When I, what reck,
+          Did least expec',
+    To see my lad so near me.
+
+II.
+
+          His bonnet he,
+          A thought ajee,
+    Cock'd sprush when first he clasp'd me;
+          And I, I wat,
+          Wi' fainness grat,
+    While in his grips be press'd me.
+          Deil tak' the war!
+          I late and air
+    Hae wish'd since Jock departed;
+          But now as glad
+          I'm wi' my lad,
+    As short syne broken-hearted.
+
+III.
+
+          Fu' aft at e'en
+          Wi' dancing keen,
+    When a' were blythe and merry,
+          I car'd na by,
+          Sae sad was I
+    In absence o' my dearie.
+          But praise be blest,
+          My mind's at rest,
+    I'm happy wi' my Johnny:
+          At kirk and fair,
+          I'se ay be there,
+    And be as canty's ony.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXVII.
+
+AE FOND KISS.
+
+Tune--"_Rory Dall's Port._"
+
+[Believed to relate to the poet's parting with Clarinda. "These
+exquisitely affecting stanzas," says Scott, "contain the essence of a
+thousand love-tales." They are in the Museum.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Ae fond kiss, and then we sever;
+    Ae fareweel, and then for ever!
+    Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
+    Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.
+    Who shall say that fortune grieves him
+    While the star of hope she leaves him?
+    Me, nae cheerfu' twinkle lights me;
+    Dark despair around benights me.
+
+II.
+
+    I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy,
+    Naething could resist my Nancy;
+    But to see her, was to love her;
+    Love but her, and love for ever.--
+    Had we never lov'd sae kindly,
+    Had we never lov'd sae blindly,
+    Never met--or never parted,
+    We had ne'er been broken hearted.
+
+III.
+
+    Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest!
+    Fare thee weel, thou best and dearest!
+    Thine be ilka joy and treasure,
+    Peace, enjoyment, love, and pleasure!
+    Ae fond kiss, and then we sever;
+    Ae farewell, alas! for ever!
+    Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
+    Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXVIII.
+
+LOVELY DAVIES.
+
+Tune--"_Miss Muir._"
+
+[Written for the Museum, in honour of the witty, the handsome, the
+lovely, and unfortunate Miss Davies.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O how shall I, unskilfu', try
+      The poet's occupation,
+    The tunefu' powers, in happy hours,
+      That whispers inspiration?
+    Even they maun dare an effort mair,
+      Than aught they ever gave us,
+    Or they rehearse, in equal verse,
+      The charms o' lovely Davies.
+    Each eye it cheers, when she appears,
+      Like Phoebus in the morning.
+    When past the shower, and ev'ry flower
+      The garden is adorning.
+    As the wretch looks o'er Siberia's shore,
+      When winter-bound the wave is;
+    Sae droops our heart when we maun part
+      Frae charming lovely Davies.
+
+II.
+
+    Her smile's a gift, frae 'boon the lift,
+      That maks us mair than princes;
+    A scepter'd hand, a king's command,
+      Is in her darting glances:
+    The man in arms, 'gainst female charms,
+      Even he her willing slave is;
+    He hugs his chain, and owns the reign
+      Of conquering, lovely Davies.
+    My muse to dream of such a theme,
+      Her feeble pow'rs surrender:
+    The eagle's gaze alone surveys
+      The sun's meridian splendour:
+    I wad in vain essay the strain,
+      The deed too daring brave is!
+    I'll drap the lyre, and mute admire
+      The charms o' lovely Davies.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXIX.
+
+THE WEARY PUND O' TOW.
+
+Tune--"_The weary Pund o' Tow._"
+
+["This song," says Sir Harris Nicolas, "is in the Musical Museum; but
+it is not attributed to Burns. Mr. Allan Cunningham does not state
+upon what authority he has assigned it to Burns." The critical knight
+might have, if he had pleased, stated similar objections to many songs
+which he took without scruple from my edition, where they were claimed
+for Burns, for the first time, and on good authority. I, however, as
+it happens, did not claim the song wholly for the poet: I said "the
+idea of the song is old, and perhaps some of the words." It was sent
+by Burns to the Museum, and in his own handwriting.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    The weary pund, the weary pund,
+      The weary pund o' tow:
+    I think my wife will end her life
+      Before she spin her tow.
+    I bought my wife a stane o' lint
+      As gude as e'er did grow;
+    And a' that she has made o' that,
+      Is ae poor pund o' tow.
+
+II.
+
+    There sat a bottle in a bole,
+      Beyont the ingle low,
+    And ay she took the tither souk,
+      To drouk the stowrie tow.
+
+III.
+
+    Quoth I, for shame, ye dirty dame,
+      Gae spin your tap o' tow!
+    She took the rock, and wi' a knock
+      She brak it o'er my pow.
+
+IV.
+
+    At last her feet--I sang to see't--
+      Gaed foremost o'er the knowe;
+    And or I wad anither jad,
+      I'll wallop in a tow.
+          The weary pund, the weary pund,
+            The weary pund o' tow!
+          I think my wife will end her life
+            Before she spin her tow.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXX.
+
+NAEBODY.
+
+Tune--"_Naebody._"
+
+[Burns had built his house at Ellisland, sowed his first crop, the
+woman he loved was at his side, and hope was high; no wonder that he
+indulged in this independent strain.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    I hae a wife o' my ain--
+      I'll partake wi' naebody;
+    I'll tak cuckold frae nane,
+      I'll gie cuckold to naebody.
+    I hae a penny to spend,
+      There--thanks to naebody;
+    I hae naething to lend,
+      I'll borrow frae naebody.
+
+II.
+
+    I am naebody's lord--
+      I'll be slave to naebody;
+    I hae a guid braid sword,
+      I'll tak dunts frae naebody.
+    I'll be merry and free,
+      I'll be sad for naebody;
+    Naebody cares for me,
+      I'll care for naebody.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXI.
+
+O, FOR ANE-AND-TWENTY, TAM!
+
+Tune--"_The Moudiewort._"
+
+[In his memoranda on this song in the Museum, Burns says simply, "This
+song is mine." The air for a century before had to bear the burthen of
+very ordinary words.]
+
+
+CHORUS.
+
+    An O, for ane-and-twenty, Tam,
+      An' hey, sweet ane-and-twenty, Tam,
+    I'll learn my kin a rattlin' sang,
+      An I saw ane-and-twenty, Tam.
+
+I.
+
+    They snool me sair, and haud me down,
+      And gar me look like bluntie, Tam!
+    But three short years will soon wheel roun'--
+      And then comes ane-and-twenty, Tam.
+
+II.
+
+    A gleib o' lan', a claut o' gear,
+      Was left me by my auntie, Tam,
+    At kith or kin I need na spier,
+      An I saw ane-and-twenty, Tam.
+
+III.
+
+    They'll hae me wed a wealthy coof,
+      Tho' I mysel' hae plenty, Tam;
+    But hear'st thou, laddie--there's my loof--
+      I'm thine at ane-and-twenty, Tam.
+        An O, for ane-and-twenty, Tam!
+          An hey, sweet ane-and-twenty, Tam!
+        I'll learn my kin a rattlin' song,
+          An I saw ane-and-twenty, Tam.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXII.
+
+O KENMURE'S ON AND AWA.
+
+Tune--"_O Kenmure's on and awa, Willie._"
+
+[The second and third, and concluding verses of this Jacobite strain,
+were written by Burns: the whole was sent in his own handwriting to
+the Museum.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O Kenmure's on and awa, Willie!
+      O Kenmure's on and awa!
+    And Kenmure's lord's the bravest lord,
+      That ever Galloway saw.
+
+II.
+
+    Success to Kenmure's band, Willie!
+      Success to Kenmure's band;
+    There's no a heart that fears a Whig,
+      That rides by Kenmure's hand.
+
+III.
+
+    Here's Kenmure's health in wine, Willie!
+      Here's Kenmure's health in wine;
+    There ne'er was a coward o' Kenmure's blude,
+      Nor yet o' Gordon's line.
+
+IV.
+
+    O Kenmure's lads are men, Willie!
+      O Kenmure's lads are men;
+    Their hearts and swords are metal true--
+      And that their faes shall ken.
+
+V.
+
+    They'll live or die wi' fame, Willie!
+      They'll live or die wi' fame;
+    But soon wi' sounding victorie,
+      May Kenmure's lord come hame.
+
+VI.
+
+    Here's him that's far awa, Willie,
+      Here's him that's far awa;
+    And here's the flower that I love best--
+      The rose that's like the snaw!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXIII.
+
+MY COLLIER LADDIE.
+
+Tune--"_The Collier Laddie._"
+
+[The Collier Laddie was communicated by Burns, and in his handwriting,
+to the Museum: it is chiefly his own composition, though coloured by
+an older strain.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Where live ye, my bonnie lass?
+      An' tell me what they ca' ye;
+    My name, she says, is Mistress Jean,
+      And I follow the Collier Laddie.
+    My name she says, is Mistress Jean,
+      And I follow the Collier Laddie.
+
+II.
+
+    See you not yon hills and dales,
+      The sun shines on sae brawlie!
+    They a' are mine, and they shall be thine,
+      Gin ye'll leave your Collier Laddie.
+    They a' are mine, and they shall be thine,
+      Gin ye'll leave your Collier Laddie.
+
+III.
+
+    Ye shall gang in gay attire,
+      Weel buskit up sae gaudy;
+    And ane to wait on every hand,
+      Gin ye'll leave your Collier Laddie.
+    And ane to wait on every hand,
+      Gin ye'll leave your Collier Laddie.
+
+IV.
+
+    Tho' ye had a' the sun shines on,
+      And the earth conceals sae lowly;
+    I wad turn my back on you and it a',
+      And embrace my Collier Laddie.
+    I wad turn my back on you and it a',
+      And embrace my Collier Laddie.
+
+V.
+
+    I can win my five pennies a day,
+      And spen't at night fu' brawlie;
+    And make my bed in the Collier's neuk,
+      And lie down wi' my Collier Laddie.
+    And make my bed in the Collier's neuk,
+      And lie down wi' my Collier Laddie.
+
+VI.
+
+    Luve for luve is the bargain for me,
+      Tho' the wee cot-house should haud me;
+    And the world before me to win my bread,
+      And fair fa' my Collier Laddie.
+    And the world before me to win my bread,
+      And fair fa' my Collier Laddie.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXIV.
+
+NITHSDALE'S WELCOME HAME.
+
+[These verses were written by Burns for the Museum: the Maxwells of
+Terreagles are the lineal descendants of the Earls of Nithsdale.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    The noble Maxwells and their powers
+      Are coming o'er the border,
+    And they'll gae bigg Terreagle's towers,
+      An' set them a' in order.
+    And they declare Terreagles fair,
+      For their abode they chuse it;
+    There's no a heart in a' the land,
+      But's lighter at the news o't.
+
+II.
+
+    Tho' stars in skies may disappear,
+      And angry tempests gather;
+    The happy hour may soon be near
+      That brings us pleasant weather:
+    The weary night o' care and grief
+      May hae a joyful morrow;
+    So dawning day has brought relief--
+      Fareweel our night o' sorrow!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXV.
+
+AS I WAS A-WAND'RING.
+
+Tune--"_Rinn Meudial mo Mhealladh._"
+
+[The original song in the Gaelic language was translated for Burns by
+an Inverness-shire lady; he turned it into verse, and sent it to the
+Museum.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    As I was a-wand'ring ae midsummer e'enin',
+      The pipers and youngsters were making their game;
+    Amang them I spied my faithless fause lover,
+      Which bled a' the wound o' my dolour again.
+    Weel, since he has left me, may pleasure gae wi' him;
+      I may be distress'd, but I winna complain;
+    I flatter my fancy I may get anither,
+      My heart it shall never be broken for ane.
+
+II.
+
+    I could na get sleeping till dawin for greetin',
+      The tears trickled down like the hail and the rain:
+    Had I na got greetin', my heart wad a broken,
+      For, oh! luve forsaken's a tormenting pain.
+
+III.
+
+    Although he has left me for greed o' the siller,
+      I dinna envy him the gains he can win;
+    I rather wad bear a' the lade o' my sorrow
+      Than ever hae acted sae faithless to him.
+    Weel, since he has left me, may pleasure gae wi' him,
+      I may be distress'd, but I winna complain;
+    I flatter my fancy I may get anither,
+      My heart it shall never be broken for ane.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXVI.
+
+BESS AND HER SPINNING-WHEEL.
+
+Tune--"_The sweet lass that lo'es me._"
+
+[There are several variations of this song, but they neither affect
+the sentiment, nor afford matter for quotation.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O leeze me on my spinning-wheel,
+    O leeze me on the rock and reel;
+    Frae tap to tae that cleeds me bien,
+    And haps me fiel and warm at e'en!
+    I'll set me down and sing and spin,
+    While laigh descends the simmer sun,
+    Blest wi' content, and milk and meal--
+    O leeze me on my spinning-wheel!
+
+II.
+
+    On ilka hand the burnies trot,
+    And meet below my theekit cot;
+    The scented birk and hawthorn white,
+    Across the pool their arms unite,
+    Alike to screen the birdie's nest,
+    And little fishes' caller rest:
+    The sun blinks kindly in the biel',
+    Where blithe I turn my spinning-wheel.
+
+III.
+
+    On lofty aiks the cushats wail,
+    And Echo cons the doolfu' tale;
+    The lintwhites in the hazel braes,
+    Delighted, rival ither's lays:
+    The craik amang the clover hay,
+    The paitrick whirrin o'er the ley,
+    The swallow jinkin round my shiel,
+    Amuse me at my spinning-wheel.
+
+IV.
+
+    Wi' sma' to sell, and less to buy,
+    Aboon distress, below envy,
+    O wha wad leave this humble state,
+    For a' the pride of a' the great?
+    Amid their flaring, idle toys,
+    Amid their cumbrous, dinsome joys,
+    Can they the peace and pleasure feel
+    Of Bessy at her spinning-wheel?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXVII.
+
+O LUVE WILL VENTURE IN.
+
+Tune--"_The Posie._"
+
+["The Posie is my composition," says Burns, in a letter to Thomson.
+"The air was taken down from Mrs. Burns's voice." It was first printed
+in the Museum.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O luve will venture in
+      Where it daurna weel be seen;
+    O luve will venture in
+      Where wisdom ance has been.
+    But I will down yon river rove,
+      Among the wood sae green--
+    And a' to pu' a posie
+      To my ain dear May.
+
+II.
+
+    The primrose I will pu',
+      The firstling o' the year,
+    And I will pu' the pink,
+      The emblem o' my dear,
+    For she's the pink o' womankind,
+      And blooms without a peer--
+    And a' to be a posie
+      To my ain dear May.
+
+III.
+
+    I'll pu' the budding rose,
+      When Phoebus peeps in view,
+    For it's like a baumy kiss
+      O' her sweet bonnie mou';
+    The hyacinth's for constancy,
+      Wi' its unchanging blue--
+    And a' to be a posie
+      To my ain dear May.
+
+IV.
+
+    The lily it is pure,
+      And the lily it is fair,
+    And in her lovely bosom
+      I'll place the lily there;
+    The daisy's for simplicity,
+      And unaffected air--
+    And a' to be a posie
+      To my ain dear May.
+
+V.
+
+    The hawthorn I will pu'
+      Wi' its locks o' siller gray,
+    Where, like an aged man,
+      It stands at break of day.
+    But the songster's nest within the bush
+      I winna tak away--
+    And a' to be a posie
+      To my ain dear May.
+
+VI.
+
+    The woodbine I will pu'
+      When the e'ening star is near,
+    And the diamond drops o' dew
+      Shall be her e'en sae clear;
+    The violet's for modesty,
+      Which weel she fa's to wear,
+    And a' to be a posie
+      To my ain dear May.
+
+VII.
+
+    I'll tie the posie round,
+      Wi' the silken band o' luve,
+    And I'll place it in her breast,
+      And I'll swear by a' above,
+    That to my latest draught of life
+      The band shall ne'er remove,
+    And this will be a posie
+      To my ain dear May.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXVIII.
+
+COUNTRY LASSIE.
+
+Tune--"_The Country Lass._"
+
+[A manuscript copy before me, in the poet's handwriting, presents two
+or three immaterial variations of this dramatic song.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    In simmer, when the hay was mawn,
+      And corn wav'd green in ilka field,
+    While claver blooms white o'er the lea,
+      And roses blaw in ilka bield;
+    Blithe Bessie in the milking shiel,
+      Says--I'll be wed, come o't what will;
+    Out spak a dame in wrinkled eild--
+      O' guid advisement comes nae ill.
+
+II.
+
+    It's ye hae wooers mony ane,
+      And, lassie, ye're but young ye ken;
+    Then wait a wee, and cannie wale,
+      A routhie butt, a routhie ben:
+    There's Johnie o' the Buskie-glen,
+      Fu' is his burn, fu' is his byre;
+    Tak this frae me, my bonnie hen,
+      It's plenty beets the luver's fire.
+
+III.
+
+    For Johnie o' the Buskie-glen,
+      I dinna care a single flie;
+    He lo'es sae weel his craps and kye,
+      He has nae luve to spare for me:
+    But blithe's the blink o' Robie's e'e,
+      And weel I wat he lo'es me dear:
+    Ae blink o' him I wad nae gie
+      For Buskie-glen and a' his gear.
+
+IV.
+
+    O thoughtless lassie, life's a faught;
+      The canniest gate, the strife is sair;
+    But ay fu' han't is fechtin best,
+      An hungry care's an unco care:
+    But some will spend, and some will spare,
+      An' wilfu' folk maun hae their will;
+    Syne as ye brew, my maiden fair,
+      Keep mind that ye maun drink the yill.
+
+V.
+
+    O, gear will buy me rigs o' land,
+      And gear will buy me sheep and kye;
+    But the tender heart o' leesome luve,
+      The gowd and siller canna buy;
+    We may be poor--Robie and I,
+      Light is the burden luve lays on;
+    Content and luve brings peace and joy--
+      What mair hae queens upon a throne?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXIX.
+
+FAIR ELIZA.
+
+_A Gaelic Air._
+
+[The name of the heroine of this song was at first Rabina: but
+Johnson, the publisher, alarmed at admitting something new into verse,
+caused Eliza to be substituted; which was a positive fraud; for Rabina
+was a real lady, and a lovely one, and Eliza one of air.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Turn again, thou fair Eliza,
+      Ae kind blink before we part,
+    Rue on thy despairing lover!
+      Canst thou break his faithfu' heart?
+    Turn again, thou fair Eliza;
+      If to love thy heart denies,
+    For pity hide the cruel sentence
+      Under friendship's kind disguise!
+
+II.
+
+    Thee, dear maid, hae I offended?
+      The offence is loving thee:
+    Canst thou wreck his peace for ever,
+      Wha for time wad gladly die?
+    While the life beats in my bosom,
+      Thou shalt mix in ilka throe;
+    Turn again, thou lovely maiden.
+      Ae sweet smile on me bestow.
+
+III.
+
+    Not the bee upon the blossom,
+      In the pride o' sunny noon;
+    Not the little sporting fairy,
+      All beneath the simmer moon;
+    Not the poet, in the moment
+      Fancy lightens in his e'e,
+    Kens the pleasure, feels the rapture,
+      That thy presence gies to me.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXX.
+
+YE JACOBITES BY NAME.
+
+Tune--"_Ye Jacobites by name._"
+
+["Ye Jacobites by name," appeared for the first time in the Museum: it
+was sent in the handwriting of Burns.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Ye Jacobites by name, give and ear, give an ear;
+      Ye Jacobites by name, give an ear;
+        Ye Jacobites by name,
+          Your fautes I will proclaim,
+            Your doctrines I maun blame--
+              You shall hear.
+
+II.
+
+    What is right, and what is wrang, by the law, by the law?
+      What is right and what is wrang, by the law?
+        What is right and what is wrang?
+          A short sword, and a lang,
+            A weak arm, and a strang
+              For to draw.
+
+III.
+
+    What makes heroic strife, fam'd afar, fam'd afar?
+      What makes heroic strife, fam'd afar?
+        What makes heroic strife?
+          To whet th' assassin's knife,
+            Or hunt a parent's life
+              Wi' bluidie war.
+
+IV.
+
+    Then let your schemes alone, in the state, in the state;
+      Then let your schemes alone in the state;
+        Then let your schemes alone,
+          Adore the rising sun,
+            And leave a man undone
+              To his fate.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXXI.
+
+THE BANKS OF DOON.
+
+[FIRST VERSION.]
+
+[An Ayrshire legend says the heroine of this affecting song was Miss
+Kennedy, of Dalgarrock, a young creature, beautiful and accomplished,
+who fell a victim to her love for her kinsman, McDoual, of Logan.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Ye flowery banks o' bonnie Doon,
+      How can ye bloom sae fair;
+    How can ye chant, ye little birds,
+      And I sae fu' o' care!
+
+II.
+
+    Thou'll break my heart, thou bonnie bird,
+      That sings upon the bough;
+    Thou minds me o' the happy days
+      When my fause love was true.
+
+III.
+
+    Thou'll break my heart, thou bonnie bird,
+      That sings beside thy mate;
+    For sae I sat, and sae I sang,
+      And wist na o' my fate.
+
+IV.
+
+    Aft hae I rov'd by bonnie Doon,
+      To see the woodbine twine,
+    And ilka bird sang o' its love;
+      And sae did I o' mine.
+
+V.
+
+    Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose,
+      Frae aff its thorny tree:
+    And my fause luver staw the rose,
+      But left the thorn wi' me.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXXII.
+
+THE BANKS O' DOON.
+
+[SECOND VERSION.]
+
+Tune--"_Caledonian Hunt's Delight._"
+
+[Burns injured somewhat the simplicity of the song by adapting it to a
+new air, accidentally composed by an amateur who was directed, if he
+desired to create a Scottish air, to keep his fingers to the black
+keys of the harpsichord and preserve rhythm.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon,
+      How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair;
+    How can ye chant, ye little birds,
+      And I sae weary, fu' o' care!
+    Thou'lt break my heart, thou warbling bird,
+      That wantons thro' the flowering thorn:
+    Thou minds me o' departed joys,
+      Departed--never to return!
+
+II.
+
+    Aft hae I rov'd by bonnie Doon,
+      To see the rose and woodbine twine;
+    And ilka bird sang o' its luve,
+      And fondly sae did I o' mine.
+    Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose,
+      Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree;
+    And my fause luver stole my rose,
+      But, ah! he left the thorn wi' me.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXXIII.
+
+WILLIE WASTLE.
+
+Tune--"_The eight men of Moidart._"
+
+[The person who is raised to the disagreeable elevation of heroine of
+this song, was, it is said, a farmer's wife of the old school of
+domestic care and uncleanness, who lived nigh the poet, at Ellisland.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Willie Wastle dwalt on Tweed,
+      The spot they call'd it Linkum-doddie.
+    Willie was a wabster guid,
+      Cou'd stown a clue wi' onie bodie;
+    He had a wife was dour and din,
+      O Tinkler Madgie was her mither;
+    Sic a wife as Willie had,
+      I wad nae gie a button for her.
+
+II.
+
+    She has an e'e--she has but ane,
+      The cat has twa the very colour;
+    Five rusty teeth, forbye a stump,
+      A clapper-tongue wad deave a miller:
+    A whiskin' beard about her mou',
+      Her nose and chin they threaten ither--
+    Sic a wife as Willie had,
+      I wad nae gie a button for her.
+
+III.
+
+    She's bow hough'd, she's hem shinn'd,
+      A limpin' leg, a hand-breed shorter;
+    She's twisted right, she's twisted left,
+      To balance fair in ilka quarter:
+    She has a hump upon her breast,
+      The twin o' that upon her shouther--
+    Sic a wife as Willie had,
+      I wad nae gie a button for her.
+
+IV.
+
+    Auld baudrans by the ingle sits,
+      An' wi' her loof her face a-washin';
+    But Willie's wife is nae sae trig,
+      She dights her grunzie wi' a hushion.
+    Her walie nieves like midden-creels,
+      Her face wad fyle the Logan-Water--
+    Sic a wife as Willie had,
+      I wad nae gie a button for her.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXXIV.
+
+LADY MARY ANN.
+
+Tune--"_Craigtown's growing._"
+
+[The poet sent this song to the Museum, in his own handwriting: yet
+part of it is believed to be old; how much cannot be well known, with
+such skill has he made his interpolations and changes.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O, Lady Mary Ann
+      Looks o'er the castle wa',
+    She saw three bonnie boys
+      Playing at the ba';
+    The youngest he was
+      The flower amang them a'--
+    My bonnie laddie's young,
+      But he's growin' yet.
+
+II.
+
+    O father! O father!
+      An' ye think it fit,
+    We'll send him a year
+      To the college yet:
+    We'll sew a green ribbon
+      Round about his hat,
+    And that will let them ken
+      He's to marry yet.
+
+III.
+
+    Lady Mary Ann
+      Was a flower i' the dew,
+    Sweet was its smell,
+      And bonnie was its hue;
+    And the langer it blossom'd
+      The sweeter it grew;
+    For the lily in the bud
+      Will be bonnier yet.
+
+IV.
+
+    Young Charlie Cochran
+      Was the sprout of an aik;
+    Bonnie and bloomin'
+      And straught was its make:
+    The sun took delight
+      To shine for its sake,
+    And it will be the brag
+      O' the forest yet.
+
+V.
+
+    The simmer is gane,
+      When the leaves they were green,
+    And the days are awa,
+      That we hae seen;
+    But far better days
+      I trust will come again,
+    For my bonnie laddie's young,
+      But he's growin' yet.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXXV.
+
+SUCH A PARCEL OF ROGUES IN A NATION.
+
+Tune.--"_A parcel of rogues in a nation._"
+
+[This song was written by Burns in a moment of honest indignation at
+the northern scoundrels who sold to those of the south the
+independence of Scotland, at the time of the Union.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Fareweel to a' our Scottish fame,
+      Fareweel our ancient glory,
+    Fareweel even to the Scottish name,
+      Sae fam'd in martial story.
+    Now Sark rins o'er the Solway sands,
+      And Tweed rins to the ocean,
+    To mark where England's province stands--
+      Such a parcel of rogues in a nation.
+
+II.
+
+    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.
+
+III.
+
+    O would, or I had seen the day
+      That treason thus could sell us,
+    My auld gray head had lien in clay,
+      Wi' Bruce and loyal Wallace!
+    But pith and power, till my last hour,
+      I'll mak' this declaration;
+    We've bought and sold for English gold--
+      Such a parcel of rogues in a nation.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXXVI.
+
+THE CARLE OF KELLYBURN BRAES.
+
+Tune--"_Kellyburn Braes._"
+
+[Of this song Mrs. Burns said to Cromek, when running her finger over
+the long list of lyrics which her husband had written or amended for
+the Museum, "Robert gae this one a terrible brushing." A considerable
+portion of the old still remains.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    There lived a carle on Kellyburn braes,
+      (Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme),
+    And he had a wife was the plague o' his days;
+      And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.
+
+II.
+
+    Ae day as the carle gaed up the lang glen,
+      (Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme),
+    He met wi' the devil; says, "How do yow fen?"
+      And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.
+
+III.
+
+    "I've got a bad wife, sir; that's a' my complaint;
+      (Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme),
+    For, saving your presence, to her ye're a saint;
+      And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime."
+
+IV.
+
+    "It's neither your stot nor your staig I shall crave,
+      (Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme),
+    But gie me your wife, man, for her I must have,
+      And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime."
+
+V.
+
+    "O welcome, most kindly," the blythe carle said,
+      (Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme),
+    "But if ye can match her, ye're waur nor ye're ca'd,
+      And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime."
+
+VI.
+
+    The devil has got the auld wife on his back;
+      (Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme),
+    And, like a poor pedlar, he's carried his pack;
+      And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.
+
+VII.
+
+    He's carried her hame to his ain hallan-door;
+      (Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme).
+    Syne bade her gae in, for a b--h and a w--e,
+      And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.
+
+VIII.
+
+    Then straight he makes fifty, the pick o' his band,
+      (Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme),
+    Turn out on her guard in the clap of a hand;
+      And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.
+
+IX.
+
+    The carlin gaed thro' them like ony wud bear,
+      (Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme),
+    Whate'er she gat hands on cam near her nae mair;
+      And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.
+
+X.
+
+    A reekit wee devil looks over the wa';
+      (Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme),
+    "O, help, master, help, or she'll ruin us a',
+      And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime."
+
+XI.
+
+    The devil he swore by the edge o' his knife,
+      (Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme),
+    He pitied the man that was tied to a wife;
+      And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.
+
+XII.
+
+    The devil he swore by the kirk and the bell,
+      (Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme),
+    He was not in wedlock, thank heav'n, but in hell;
+      And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.
+
+XIII.
+
+    Then Satan has travelled again wi' his pack;
+      (Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme),
+    And to her auld husband he's carried her back:
+      And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.
+
+XIV.
+
+    "I hae been a devil the feck o' my life;
+      (Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme),
+    But ne'er was in hell, till I met wi' a wife;
+      And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXXVII.
+
+JOCKEY'S TA'EN THE PARTING KISS.
+
+Tune--"_Jockey's ta'en the parting kiss._"
+
+[Burns, when he sent this song to the Museum, said nothing of its
+origin: and he is silent about it in his memoranda.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Jockey's ta'en the parting kiss,
+      O'er the mountains he is gane;
+    And with him is a' my bliss,
+      Nought but griefs with me remain.
+    Spare my luve, ye winds that blaw,
+      Plashy sleets and beating rain!
+    Spare my luve, thou feathery snaw,
+      Drifting o'er the frozen plain.
+
+II.
+
+    When the shades of evening creep
+      O'er the day's fair, gladsome e'e,
+    Sound and safely may he sleep,
+      Sweetly blithe his waukening be!
+    He will think on her he loves,
+      Fondly he'll repeat her name;
+    For where'er he distant roves,
+      Jockey's heart is still at hame.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXXVIII.
+
+LADY ONLIE.
+
+Tune--"_The Ruffian's Rant._"
+
+[Communicated to the Museum in the handwriting of Burns: part, but not
+much, is believed to be old.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    A' the lads o' Thornie-bank,
+      When they gae to the shore o' Bucky,
+    They'll step in an' tak' a pint
+      Wi' Lady Onlie, honest Lucky!
+        Lady Onlie, honest Lucky!
+          Brews good ale at shore o' Bucky;
+        I wish her sale for her gude ale,
+          The best on a' the shore o' Bucky.
+
+II.
+
+    Her house sae bien, her curch sae clean,
+      I wat she is a dainty chucky;
+    And cheerlie blinks the ingle-gleed
+      Of Lady Onlie, honest Lucky!
+        Lady Onlie, honest Lucky,
+          Brews good ale at shore o' Bucky
+        I wish her sale for her gude ale,
+          The best on a' the shore o' Bucky.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXXIX.
+
+THE CHEVALIER'S LAMENT.
+
+Tune--"_Captain O'Kean._"
+
+["Composed," says Burns to M'Murdo, "at the desire of a friend who had
+an equal enthusiasm for the air and subject." The friend alluded to is
+supposed to be Robert Cleghorn: he loved the air much, and he was much
+of a Jacobite.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    The small birds rejoice in the green leaves returning,
+      The murmuring streamlet winds clear thro' the vale;
+    The hawthorn trees blow in the dew of the morning,
+      And wild scatter'd cowslips bedeck the green dale:
+    But what can give pleasure, or what can seem fair,
+      While the lingering moments are number'd by care?
+    No flow'rs gaily springing, nor birds sweetly singing,
+      Can soothe the sad bosom of joyless despair.
+
+II.
+
+    The deed that I dared, could it merit their malice,
+      A king and a father to place on his throne?
+    His right are these hills, and his right are these valleys,
+      Where the wild beasts find shelter, but I can find none;
+    But 'tis not my sufferings thus wretched, forlorn:
+      My brave gallant friends! 'tis your ruin I mourn;
+    Your deeds proved so loyal in hot-bloody trial--
+      Alas! I can make you no sweeter return!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXL.
+
+SONG OF DEATH.
+
+Air--"_Oran an Aoig._"
+
+["I have just finished the following song," says Burns to Mrs. Dunlop,
+"which to a lady, the descendant of Wallace, and herself the mother of
+several soldiers, needs neither preface nor apology."]
+
+_Scene_--A field of battle. Time of the day, evening. The wounded and
+dying of the victorious army are supposed to join in the following
+song:
+
+
+I.
+
+    Farewell, thou fair day, thou green earth, and ye skies,
+      Now gay with the bright setting sun;
+    Farewell loves and friendships, ye dear tender ties--
+      Our race of existence is run!
+
+II.
+
+    Thou grim king of terrors, thou life's gloomy foe!
+      Go frighten the coward and slave;
+    Go, teach them to tremble, fell tyrant! but know,
+      No terrors hast thou to the brave!
+
+III.
+
+    Thou strik'st the dull peasant--he sinks in the dark,
+      Nor saves e'en the wreck of a name;
+    Thou strik'st the young hero--a glorious mark!
+      He falls in the blaze of his fame!
+
+IV.
+
+    In the field of proud honour--our swords in our hands,
+      Our king and our country to save--
+    While victory shines on life's last ebbing sands,
+      Oh! who would not die with the brave!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXLI.
+
+FLOW GENTLY, SWEET AFTON.
+
+Tune--"_Afton Water._"
+
+[The scenes on Afton Water are beautiful, and the poet felt them, as
+well as the generous kindness of his earliest patroness, Mrs. General
+Stewart, of Afton-lodge, when he wrote this sweet pastoral.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Flow gently, sweet Afton! among thy green braes,
+    Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise;
+    My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream--
+    Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.
+
+II.
+
+    Thou stock-dove, whose echo resounds thro' the glen;
+    Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den;
+    Thou green-crested lapwing, thy screaming forbear--
+    I charge you disturb not my slumbering fair.
+
+III.
+
+    How lofty, sweet Afton! thy neighbouring hills,
+    Far mark'd with the courses of clear, winding rills;
+    There daily I wander as noon rises high,
+    My flocks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eye.
+
+IV.
+
+    How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below,
+    Where wild in the woodlands the primroses blow!
+    There, oft as mild evening weeps over the lea,
+    The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me.
+
+V.
+
+    Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides,
+    And winds by the cot where my Mary resides;
+    How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave,
+    As gathering sweet flow'rets she stems thy clear wave.
+
+VI.
+
+    Flow gently, sweet Afton! among thy green braes,
+    Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays!
+    My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream--
+    Flow gently, sweet Afton! disturb not her dream.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXLII.
+
+THE SMILING SPRING.
+
+Tune--"_The Bonnie Bell._"
+
+["Bonnie Bell," was first printed in the Museum: who the heroine was
+the poet has neglected to tell us, and it is a pity.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    The smiling Spring comes in rejoicing,
+      And surly Winter grimly flies;
+    Now crystal clear are the falling waters,
+      And bonnie blue are the sunny skies;
+    Fresh o'er the mountains breaks forth the morning,
+      The ev'ning gilds the ocean's swell;
+    All creatures joy in the sun's returning,
+      And I rejoice in my bonnie Bell.
+
+II.
+
+    The flowery Spring leads sunny Summer,
+      And yellow Autumn presses near,
+    Then in his turn comes gloomy Winter,
+      Till smiling Spring again appear.
+    Thus Seasons dancing, life advancing,
+      Old Time and Nature their changes tell,
+    But never ranging, still unchanging,
+      I adore my bonnie Bell.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXLIII.
+
+THE CARLES OF DYSART.
+
+Tune--"_Hey ca' thro'._"
+
+[Communicated to the Museum by Burns in his own handwriting: part of
+it is his composition, and some believe the whole.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Up wi' the carles o' Dysart,
+      And the lads o' Buckhaven,
+    And the kimmers o' Largo,
+      And the lasses o' Leven.
+          Hey, ca' thro', ca' thro',
+            For we hae mickle ado;
+          Hey, ca' thro', ca' thro',
+            For we hae mickle ado.
+
+II.
+
+    We hae tales to tell,
+      And we hae sangs to sing;
+    We hae pennies to spend,
+      And we hae pints to bring.
+
+III.
+
+    We'll live a' our days,
+      And them that come behin',
+    Let them do the like,
+      And spend the gear they win.
+          Hey, ca' thro', ca' thro',
+            For we hae mickle ado,
+          Hey, ca' thro', ca' thro',
+            For we hae mickle ado.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXLIV.
+
+THE GALLANT WEAVER.
+
+Tune--"_The Weavers' March._"
+
+[Sent by the poet to the Museum. Neither tradition nor criticism has
+noticed it, but the song is popular among the looms, in the west of
+Scotland.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Where Cart rins rowin to the sea,
+    By mony a flow'r and spreading tree,
+    There lives a lad, the lad for me,
+        He is a gallant weaver.
+    Oh, I had wooers aught or nine,
+    They gied me rings and ribbons fine;
+    And I was fear'd my heart would tine,
+        And I gied it to the weaver.
+
+II.
+
+    My daddie sign'd my tocher-band,
+    To gie the lad that has the land;
+    But to my heart I'll add my hand,
+        And gie it to the weaver.
+    While birds rejoice in leafy bowers;
+    While bees delight in op'ning flowers;
+    While corn grows green in simmer showers,
+        I'll love my gallant weaver.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXLV.
+
+THE BAIRNS GAT OUT.
+
+Tune--"_The deuks dang o'er my daddie._"
+
+[Burns found some of the sentiments and a few of the words of this
+song in a strain, rather rough and home-spun, of Scotland's elder day.
+He communicated it to the Museum.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    The bairns gat out wi' an unco shout,
+      The deuks dang o'er my daddie, O!
+    The fien'-ma-care, quo' the feirrie auld wife,
+      He was but a paidlin body, O!
+    He paidles out, an' he paidles in,
+      An' he paidles late an' early, O!
+    This seven lang years I hae lien by his side,
+      An' he is but a fusionless carlie, O!
+
+II.
+
+    O, hand your tongue, my feirrie auld wife,
+      O, haud your tongue, now Nansie, O!
+    I've seen the day, and sae hae ye,
+      Ye wadna been sae donsie, O!
+    I've seen the day ye butter'd my brose,
+      And cuddled me late and early, O!
+    But downa do's come o'er me now,
+      And, oh! I feel it sairly, O!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXLVI.
+
+SHE'S FAIR AND FAUSE.
+
+Tune--"_She's fair and fause._"
+
+[One of the happiest as well as the most sarcastic of the songs of the
+North: the air is almost as happy as the words.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    She's fair and fause that causes my smart,
+      I lo'ed her meikle and lang;
+    She's broken her vow, she's broken my heart,
+      And I may e'en gae hang.
+    A coof cam in wi' routh o' gear,
+    And I hae tint my dearest dear;
+    But woman is but warld's gear,
+      Sae let the bonnie lass gang.
+
+II.
+
+    Whae'er ye be that woman love,
+      To this be never blind,
+    Nae ferlie 'tis tho' fickle she prove,
+      A woman has't by kind.
+    O woman, lovely woman fair!
+    An angel form's fa'n to thy share,
+    'Twad been o'er meikle to gien thee mair--
+      I mean an angel mind.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXLVII.
+
+THE EXCISEMAN.
+
+Tune--"_The Deil cam' fiddling through the town._"
+
+[Composed and sung by the poet at a festive meeting of the excisemen
+of the Dumfries district.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    The deil cam' fiddling through the town,
+      And danced awa wi' the Exciseman,
+    And ilka wife cries--"Auld Mahoun,
+      I wish you luck o' the prize, man!"
+        The deil's awa, the deil's awa,
+          The deil's awa wi' the Exciseman;
+        He's danc'd awa, he's danc'd awa,
+          He's danc'd awa wi' the Exciseman!
+
+II.
+
+    We'll mak our maut, we'll brew our drink,
+      We'll dance, and sing, and rejoice, man;
+    And mony braw thanks to the meikle black deil
+      That danc'd awa wi' the Exciseman.
+
+III.
+
+    There's threesome reels, there's foursome reels,
+      There's hornpipes and strathspeys, man;
+    But the ae best dance e'er cam to the land
+      Was--the deil's awa wi' the Exciseman.
+        The deil's awa, the deil's awa,
+          The deil's awa wi' the Exciseman:
+        He's danc'd awa, he's danc'd awa,
+          He's danc'd awa wi' the Exciseman.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXLVIII.
+
+THE LOVELY LASS OF INVERNESS.
+
+Tune--"_Lass of Inverness._"
+
+[As Burns passed slowly over the moor of Culloden, in one of his
+Highland tours, the lament of the Lass of Inverness, it is said, rose
+on his fancy: the first four lines are partly old.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    The lovely lass o' Inverness,
+      Nae joy nor pleasure can she see;
+    For e'en and morn, she cries, alas!
+      And ay the saut tear blin's her e'e:
+    Drumossie moor--Drumossie day--
+      A waefu' day it was to me!
+    For there I lost my father dear,
+      My father dear, and brethren three.
+
+II.
+
+    Their winding sheet the bluidy clay,
+      Their graves are growing green to see:
+    And by them lies the dearest lad
+      That ever blest a woman's e'e!
+    Now wae to thee, thou cruel lord,
+      A bluidy man I trow thou be;
+    For mony a heart thou host made sair,
+      That ne'er did wrong to thine or thee.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXLIX.
+
+A RED, RED ROSE.
+
+Tune--"_Graham's Strathspey._"
+
+[Some editors have pleased themselves with tracing the sentiments of
+this song in certain street ballads: it resembles them as much as a
+sour sloe resembles a drop-ripe damson.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O, my luve's like a red, red rose,
+      That's newly sprung in June:
+    O, my luve's like the melodie,
+      That's sweetly play'd in tune.
+
+II.
+
+    As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
+      So deep in luve am I:
+    And I will luve thee still, my dear,
+      'Till a' the seas gang dry.
+
+III.
+
+    'Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
+      And the rocks melt wi' the sun:
+    I will luve thee still, my dear,
+      While the sands o' life shall run.
+
+IV.
+
+    And fare thee weel, my only luve!
+      And fare thee weel a-while!
+    And I will come again, my luve,
+      Tho' it were ten thousand mile.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CL.
+
+LOUIS, WHAT RECK I BY THEE. Tune--"_Louis, what reck I by thee._"
+
+[The Jeannie of this very short, but very clever song, is Mrs. Burns.
+Her name has no chance of passing from the earth if impassioned verse
+can preserve it.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Louis, what reck I by thee,
+      Or Geordie on his ocean?
+    Dyvor, beggar loons to me--
+      I reign in Jeannie's bosom.
+
+II.
+
+    Let her crown my love her law,
+      And in her breast enthrone me.
+    Kings and nations--swith, awa!
+      Reif randies, I disown ye!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLI.
+
+HAD I THE WYTE.
+
+Tune--"_Had I the wyte she bade me._"
+
+[Burns in evoking this song out of the old verses did not cast wholly
+out the spirit of ancient license in which our minstrels indulged. He
+sent it to the Museum.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Had I the wyte, had I the wyte,
+      Had I the wyte she bade me;
+    She watch'd me by the hie-gate side.
+      And up the loan she shaw'd me;
+    And when I wadna venture in,
+      A coward loon she ca'd me;
+    Had kirk and state been in the gate,
+      I lighted when she bade me.
+
+II.
+
+    Sae craftilie she took me ben,
+      And bade me make nae clatter;
+    "For our ramgunshoch glum gudeman
+      Is out and owre the water:"
+    Whae'er shall say I wanted grace
+      When I did kiss and dawte her,
+    Let him be planted in my place,
+      Syne say I was the fautor.
+
+III.
+
+    Could I for shame, could I for shame,
+      Could I for shame refused her?
+    And wadna manhood been to blame,
+      Had I unkindly used her?
+    He claw'd her wi' the ripplin-kame,
+      And blue and bluidy bruised her;
+    When sic a husband was frae hame,
+      What wife but had excused her?
+
+IV.
+
+    I dighted ay her een sae blue,
+      And bann'd the cruel randy;
+    And weel I wat her willing mou',
+      Was e'en like sugar-candy.
+    A gloamin-shot it was I wot,
+      I lighted on the Monday;
+    But I cam through the Tysday's dew,
+      To wanton Willie's brandy.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLII.
+
+COMING THROUGH THE RYE.
+
+Tune--"_Coming through the rye._"
+
+[The poet in this song removed some of the coarse chaff, from the old
+chant, and fitted it for the Museum, when it was first printed.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Coming through the rye, poor body,
+      Coming through the rye,
+    She draiglet a' her petticoatie,
+      Coming through the rye.
+    Jenny's a' wat, poor body,
+      Jenny's seldom dry;
+    She draiglet a' her petticoatie,
+      Coming through the rye.
+
+II.
+
+    Gin a body meet a body--
+      Coming through the rye,
+    Gin a body kiss a body--
+      Need a body cry?
+
+III.
+
+    Gin a body meet a body
+      Coming through the glen,
+    Gin a body kiss a body--
+      Need the world ken?
+    Jenny's a' wat, poor body;
+      Jenny's seldom dry;
+    She draiglet a' her petticoatie,
+      Coming through the rye.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLIII.
+
+YOUNG JAMIE, PRIDE OF A' THE PLAIN.
+
+Tune--"_The carlin o' the glen._"
+
+[Sent to the Museum by Burns in his own handwriting: part only is
+thought to be his]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Young Jamie, pride of a' the plain,
+    Sae gallant and sae gay a swain;
+    Thro' a' our lasses he did rove,
+    And reign'd resistless king of love:
+    But now wi' sighs and starting tears,
+    He strays amang the woods and briers;
+    Or in the glens and rocky caves
+    His sad complaining dowie raves.
+
+II.
+
+    I wha sae late did range and rove,
+    And chang'd with every moon my love,
+    I little thought the time was near,
+    Repentance I should buy sae dear:
+    The slighted maids my torment see,
+    And laugh at a' the pangs I dree;
+    While she, my cruel, scornfu' fair,
+    Forbids me e'er to see her mair!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLIV.
+
+OUT OVER THE FORTH.
+
+Tune--"_Charlie Gordon's welcome hame._"
+
+[In one of his letters to Cunningham, dated 11th March 1791, Burns
+quoted the four last lines of this tender and gentle lyric, and
+inquires how he likes them.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Out over the Forth I look to the north,
+      But what is the north and its Highlands to me?
+    The south nor the east gie ease to my breast,
+      The far foreign land, or the wild rolling sea.
+
+II.
+
+    But I look to the west, when I gae to rest,
+      That happy my dreams and my slumbers may be;
+    For far in the west lives he I Io'e best,
+      The lad that is dear to my babie and me.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLV.
+
+THE LASS OF ECCLEFECHAN.
+
+Tune--"_Jacky Latin._"
+
+[Burns in one of his professional visits to Ecclefechan was amused
+with a rough old district song, which some one sung: he rendered, at a
+leisure moment, the language more delicate and the sentiments less
+warm, and sent it to the Museum.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Gat ye me, O gat ye me,
+      O gat ye me wi' naething?
+    Rock and reel, and spinnin' wheel,
+      A mickle quarter basin.
+    Bye attour, my gutcher has
+      A hich house and a laigh ane,
+    A' for bye, my bonnie sel',
+      The toss of Ecclefechan.
+
+II.
+
+    O haud your tongue now, Luckie Laing,
+      O hand your tongue and jauner;
+    I held the gate till you I met,
+      Syne I began to wander:
+    I tint my whistle and my sang,
+      I tint my peace and pleasure:
+    But your green graff, now, Luckie Laing,
+      Wad airt me to my treasure.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLVI.
+
+THE COOPER O' CUDDIE.
+
+Tune--"_Bab at the bowster._"
+
+[The wit of this song is better than its delicacy: it is printed in
+the Museum, with the name of Burns attached.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    The cooper o' Cuddie cam' here awa,
+    And ca'd the girrs out owre us a'--
+    And our gudewife has gotten a ca'
+      That anger'd the silly gude-man, O.
+    We'll hide the cooper behind the door;
+    Behind the door, behind the door;
+    We'll hide the cooper behind the door,
+      And cover him under a mawn, O.
+
+II.
+
+    He sought them out, he sought them in,
+    Wi', deil hae her! and, deil hae him!
+    But the body was sae doited and blin',
+      He wist na where he was gaun, O.
+
+III.
+
+    They cooper'd at e'en, they cooper'd at morn,
+    'Till our gude-man has gotten the scorn;
+    On ilka brow she's planted a horn,
+      And swears that they shall stan', O.
+    We'll hide the cooper behind the door,
+    Behind the door, behind the door;
+    We'll hide the cooper behind the door,
+      And cover him under a mawn, O.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLVII.
+
+SOMEBODY.
+
+Tune--"_For the sake of somebody._"
+
+[Burns seems to have borrowed two or three lines of this lyric from
+Ramsay: he sent it to the Museum.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    My heart is sair--I dare na tell--
+      My heart is sair for somebody;
+    I could wake a winter night
+      For the sake o' somebody.
+        Oh-hon! for somebody!
+        Oh-hey! for somebody!
+    I could range the world around,
+      For the sake o' somebody!
+
+II.
+
+    Ye powers that smile on virtuous love,
+      O, sweetly smile on somebody!
+    Frae ilka danger keep him free,
+      And send me safe my somebody.
+        Oh-hon! for somebody!
+        Oh-hey! for somebody!
+    I wad do--what wad I not?
+      For the sake o' somebody!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLVIII.
+
+THE CARDIN' O'T.
+
+Tune--"_Salt-fish and dumplings._"
+
+["This song," says Sir Harris Nicolas, "is in the Musical Museum, but
+not with Burns's name to it." It was given by Burns to Johnson in his
+own handwriting.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    I coft a stane o' haslock woo',
+      To make a wat to Johnny o't;
+    For Johnny is my only jo,
+      I lo'e him best of ony yet.
+          The cardin' o't, the spinnin' o't,
+            The warpin' o't, the winnin' o't;
+          When ilka ell cost me a groat,
+            The tailor staw the lynin o't.
+
+II.
+
+    For though his locks be lyart gray,
+      And tho' his brow be beld aboon;
+    Yet I hae seen him on a day,
+      The pride of a' the parishen.
+          The cardin' o't, the spinnin' o't,
+            The warpin' o't, the winnin' o't;
+          When ilka ell cost me a groat,
+            The tailor staw the lynin o't.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLIX.
+
+WHEN JANUAR' WIND.
+
+Tune--"_The lass that made the bed for me._"
+
+[Burns found an old, clever, but not very decorous strain, recording
+an adventure which Charles the Second, while under Presbyterian rule
+in Scotland, had with a young lady of the house of Port Letham, and
+exercising his taste and skill upon it, produced the present--still
+too free song, for the Museum.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    When Januar' wind was blawing cauld,
+      As to the north I took my way,
+    The mirksome night did me enfauld,
+      I knew na where to lodge till day.
+
+II.
+
+    By my good luck a maid I met,
+      Just in the middle o' my care;
+    And kindly she did me invite
+      To walk into a chamber fair.
+
+III.
+
+    I bow'd fu' low unto this maid,
+      And thank'd her for her courtesie;
+    I bow'd fu' low unto this maid,
+      And bade her mak a bed to me.
+
+IV.
+
+    She made the bed baith large and wide,
+      Wi' twa white hands she spread it down;
+    She put the cup to her rosy lips,
+      And drank, "Young man, now sleep ye soun'."
+
+V.
+
+    She snatch'd the candle in her hand,
+      And frae my chamber went wi' speed;
+    But I call'd her quickly back again
+      To lay some mair below my head.
+
+VI.
+
+    A cod she laid below my head,
+      And served me wi' due respect;
+    And to salute her wi' a kiss,
+      I put my arms about her neck.
+
+VII.
+
+    "Haud aff your hands, young man," she says,
+      "And dinna sae uncivil be:
+    If ye hae onto love for me,
+      O wrang na my virginitie!"
+
+VIII.
+
+    Her hair was like the links o' gowd,
+      Her teeth were like the ivorie;
+    Her cheeks like lilies dipt in wine,
+      The lass that made the bed to me.
+
+IX.
+
+    Her bosom was the driven snaw,
+      Twa drifted heaps sae fair to see;
+    Her limbs the polish'd marble stane,
+      The lass that made the bed to me.
+
+X.
+
+    I kiss'd her owre and owre again,
+      And ay she wist na what to say;
+    I laid her between me and the wa'--
+      The lassie thought na lang till day.
+
+XI.
+
+    Upon the morrow when we rose,
+      I thank'd her for her courtesie;
+    But aye she blush'd, and aye she sigh'd,
+      And said, "Alas! ye've ruin'd me."
+
+XII.
+
+    I clasp'd her waist, and kiss'd her syne,
+      While the tear stood twinklin' in her e'e;
+    I said, "My lassie, dinna cry,
+      For ye ay shall mak the bed to me."
+
+XIII.
+
+    She took her mither's Holland sheets,
+      And made them a' in sarks to me:
+    Blythe and merry may she be,
+      The lass that made the bed to me.
+
+XIV.
+
+    The bonnie lass made the bed to me,
+      The braw lass made the bed to me:
+    I'll ne'er forget till the day I die,
+      The lass that made the bed to me!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLX.
+
+SAE FAR AWA.
+
+Tune--"_Dalkeith Maiden Bridge._"
+
+[This song was sent to the Museum by Burns, in his own handwriting.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O, sad and heavy should I part,
+      But for her sake sae far awa;
+    Unknowing what my way may thwart,
+      My native land sae far awa.
+    Thou that of a' things Maker art,
+      That form'd this fair sae far awa,
+    Gie body strength, then I'll ne'er start
+      At this my way sae far awa.
+
+II.
+
+    How true is love to pure desert,
+      So love to her, sae far awa:
+    And nocht can heal my bosom's smart,
+      While, oh! she is sae far awa.
+    Nane other love, nane other dart,
+      I feel but hers, sae far awa;
+    But fairer never touch'd a heart
+      Than hers, the fair sae far awa.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXI.
+
+I'LL AY CA' IN BY YON TOWN.
+
+Tune--"_I'll gae nae mair to yon town._"
+
+[Jean Armour inspired this very sweet song. Sir Harris Nicolas says it
+is printed in Cromek's Reliques: it was first printed in the Museum.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    I'll ay ca' in by yon town,
+      And by yon garden green, again;
+    I'll ay ca' in by yon town,
+      And see my bonnie Jean again.
+    There's nane sall ken, there's nane sall guess,
+      What brings me back the gate again;
+    But she my fairest faithfu' lass,
+      And stownlins we sall meet again.
+
+II.
+
+    She'll wander by the aiken tree,
+      When trystin-time draws near again;
+    And when her lovely form I see,
+      O haith, she's doubly dear again!
+    I'll ay ca' in by yon town,
+      And by yon garden green, again;
+    I'll ay ca' in by yon town,
+      And see my bonnie Jean again.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXII.
+
+O, WAT YE WHA'S IN YON TOWN.
+
+Tune--"_I'll ay ca' in by yon town._"
+
+[The beautiful Lucy Johnstone, married to Oswald, of Auchencruive, was
+the heroine of this song: it was not, however, composed expressly in
+honour of her charms. "As I was a good deal pleased," he says in a
+letter to Syme, "with my performance, I, in my first fervour, thought
+of sending it to Mrs. Oswald." He sent it to the Museum, perhaps also
+to the lady.]
+
+
+CHORUS.
+
+    O, wat ye wha's in yon town,
+      Ye see the e'enin sun upon?
+    The fairest dame's in yon town,
+      That e'enin sun is shining on.
+
+I.
+
+    Now haply down yon gay green shaw,
+      She wanders by yon spreading tree;
+    How blest ye flow'rs that round her blaw,
+      Ye catch the glances o' her e'e!
+
+II.
+
+    How blest ye birds that round her sing,
+      And welcome in the blooming year!
+    And doubly welcome be the spring,
+      The season to my Lucy dear.
+
+III.
+
+    The sun blinks blithe on yon town,
+      And on yon bonnie braes of Ayr;
+    But my delight in yon town,
+      And dearest bliss, is Lucy fair.
+
+IV.
+
+    Without my love, not a' the charms
+      O' Paradise could yield me joy;
+    But gie me Lucy in my arms,
+      And welcome Lapland's dreary sky!
+
+V.
+
+    My cave wad be a lover's bower,
+      Tho' raging winter rent the air;
+    And she a lovely little flower,
+      That I wad tent and shelter there.
+
+VI.
+
+    O sweet is she in yon town,
+      Yon sinkin sun's gane down upon;
+    A fairer than's in you town
+      His setting beam ne'er shone upon.
+
+VII.
+
+    If angry fate is sworn my foe,
+      And suffering I am doom'd to bear;
+    I careless quit aught else below,
+      But spare me--spare me, Lucy dear!
+
+VIII.
+
+    For while life's dearest blood is warm,
+      Ae thought frae her shall ne'er depart,
+    And she--as fairest is her form!
+      She has the truest, kindest heart!
+          O, wat ye wha's in yon town,
+            Ye see the e'enin sun upon?
+          The fairest dame's in yon town
+            That e'enin sun is shining on.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXIII.
+
+O MAY, THY MORN.
+
+Tune--_"May, thy morn."_
+
+[Our lyrical legends assign the inspiration of this strain to the
+accomplished Clarinda. It has been omitted by Chambers in his
+"People's Edition" of Burns.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O May, thy morn was ne'er sae sweet
+      As the mirk night o' December;
+    For sparkling was the rosy wine,
+      And private was the chamber:
+    And dear was she I dare na name,
+      But I will ay remember.
+    And dear was she I dare na name,
+      But I will ay remember.
+
+II.
+
+    And here's to them, that, like oursel,
+      Can push about the jorum;
+    And here's to them that wish us weel,
+      May a' that's guid watch o'er them,
+    And here's to them we dare na tell,
+      The dearest o' the quorum.
+    Ami here's to them we dare na tell,
+      The dearest o' the quorum!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXIV.
+
+LOVELY POLLY STEWART.
+
+Tune--_"Ye're welcome, Charlie Stewart."_
+
+[The poet's eye was on Polly Stewart, but his mind seems to have been
+with Charlie Stewart, and the Jacobite ballads, when he penned these
+words;--they are in the Museum.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O lovely Polly Stewart!
+      O charming Polly Stewart!
+    There's not a flower that blooms in May
+      That's half so fair as thou art.
+    The flower it blaws, it fades and fa's,
+      And art can ne'er renew it;
+    But worth and truth eternal youth
+      Will give to Polly Stewart.
+
+II.
+
+    May he whose arms shall fauld thy charms
+      Possess a leal and true heart;
+    To him be given to ken the heaven
+      He grasps in Polly Stewart.
+    O lovely Polly Stewart!
+      O charming Polly Stewart!
+    There's ne'er a flower that blooms in May
+      That's half so sweet as thou art.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXV.
+
+THE HIGHLAND LADDIE.
+
+Tune--_"If thou'lt play me fair play."_
+
+[A long and wearisome ditty, called "The Highland Lad and Lowland
+Lassie," which Burns compressed into these stanzas, for Johnson's
+Museum.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    The bonniest lad that e'er I saw,
+      Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie,
+    Wore a plaid, and was fu' braw,
+      Bonnie Highland laddie.
+    On his head a bonnet blue,
+      Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie;
+    His royal heart was firm and true,
+      Bonnie Highland laddie.
+
+II.
+
+    Trumpets sound, and cannons roar,
+      Bonnie lassie; Lowland lassie;
+    And a' the hills wi' echoes roar,
+      Bonnie Lowland lassie.
+    Glory, honour, now invite,
+      Bonnie lassie, Lowland lassie,
+    For freedom and my king to fight,
+      Bonnie Lowland lassie.
+
+III.
+
+    The sun a backward course shall take,
+      Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie,
+    Ere aught thy manly courage shake,
+      Bonnie Highland laddie.
+    Go, for yourself procure renown,
+      Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie;
+    And for your lawful king, his crown,
+      Bonnie Highland laddie.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXVI.
+
+ANNA, THY CHARMS.
+
+Tune--"_Bonnie Mary._"
+
+[The heroine of this short, sweet song is unknown: it was inserted in
+the third edition of his Poems.]
+
+
+    Anna, thy charms my bosom fire,
+      And waste my soul with care;
+    But ah! how bootless to admire,
+      When fated to despair!
+    Yet in thy presence, lovely fair,
+      To hope may be forgiv'n;
+    For sure 'twere impious to despair,
+      So much in sight of Heav'n.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXVII.
+
+CASSILLIS' BANKS.
+
+Tune--[unknown.]
+
+[It is supposed that "Highland Mary," who lived sometime on
+Cassillis's banks, is the heroine of these verses.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Now bank an' brae are claith'd in green,
+      An' scattered cowslips sweetly spring;
+    By Girvan's fairy-haunted stream,
+      The birdies flit on wanton wing.
+    To Cassillis' banks when e'ening fa's,
+      There wi' my Mary let me flee,
+    There catch her ilka glance of love,
+      The bonnie blink o' Mary's e'e!
+
+II.
+
+    The chield wha boasts o' warld's walth
+      Is aften laird o' meikle care;
+    But Mary she is a' my ain--
+      Ah! fortune canna gie me mair.
+    Then let me range by Cassillis' banks,
+      Wi' her, the lassie dear to me,
+    And catch her ilka glance o' love,
+      The bonnie blink o' Mary's e'e!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXVIII.
+
+TO THEE, LOVED NITH.
+
+Tune--[unknown.]
+
+[There are several variations extant of these verses, and among others
+one which transfers the praise from the Nith to the Dee: but to the
+Dee, if the poet spoke in his own person, no such influences could
+belong.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    To thee, lov'd Nith, thy gladsome plains,
+      Where late wi' careless thought I rang'd,
+    Though prest wi' care and sunk in woe,
+      To thee I bring a heart unchang'd.
+
+II.
+
+    I love thee, Nith, thy banks and braes,
+      Tho' mem'ry there my bosom tear;
+    For there he rov'd that brake my heart,
+      Yet to that heart, ah! still how dear!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXIX.
+
+BANNOCKS O' BARLEY.
+
+Tune--"_The Killogie._"
+
+["This song is in the Museum," says Sir Harris Nicolas, "but without
+Burns's name." Burns took up an old song, and letting some of the old
+words stand, infused a Jacobite spirit into it, wrote it out, and sent
+it to the Museum.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Bannocks o' bear meal,
+      Bannocks o' barley;
+    Here's to the Highlandman's
+      Bannocks o' barley.
+    Wha in a brulzie
+      Will first cry a parley?
+    Never the lads wi'
+      The bannocks o' barley.
+
+II.
+
+    Bannocks o' bear meal,
+      Bannocks o' barley;
+    Here's to the lads wi'
+      The bannocks o' barley.
+    Wha in his wae-days
+      Were loyal to Charlie?
+    Wha but the lads wi'
+      The bannocks o' barley?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXX.
+
+HEE BALOU.
+
+Tune--"_The Highland Balou._"
+
+["Published in the Musical Museum," says Sir Harris Nicolas, "but
+without the name of the author." It is an old strain, eked out and
+amended by Burns, and sent to the Museum in his own handwriting.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Hee balou! my sweet wee Donald,
+    Picture o' the great Clanronald;
+    Brawlie kens our wanton chief
+    Wha got my young Highland thief.
+
+II.
+
+    Leeze me on thy bonnie craigie,
+    An' thou live, thou'll steal a naigie:
+    Travel the country thro' and thro',
+    And bring hame a Carlisle cow.
+
+III.
+
+    Thro' the Lawlands, o'er the border,
+    Weel, my babie, may thou furder:
+    Herry the louns o' the laigh countree,
+    Syne to the Highlands hame to me.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXXI.
+
+WAE IS MY HEART.
+
+Tune--"_Wae is my heart._"
+
+[Composed, it is said, at the request of Clarke, the musician, who
+felt, or imagined he felt, some pangs of heart for one of the
+loveliest young ladies in Nithsdale, Phillis M'Murdo.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Wae is my heart, and the tear's in my e'e;
+    Lang, lang, joy's been a stranger to me;
+    Forsaken and friendless, my burden I bear,
+    And the sweet voice of pity ne'er sounds in my ear.
+
+II.
+
+    Love, thou hast pleasures, and deep hae I loved;
+    Love, thou hast sorrows, and sair hae I proved;
+    But this bruised heart that now bleeds in my breast,
+    I can feel by its throbbings will soon be at rest.
+
+III.
+
+    O, if I were happy, where happy I hae been,
+    Down by yon stream, and yon bonnie castle green;
+    For there he is wand'ring, and musing on me,
+    Wha wad soon dry the tear frae his Phillis's e'e.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXXII.
+
+HERE'S HIS HEALTH IN WATER.
+
+Tune--"_The job of journey-work._"
+
+[Burns took the hint of this song from an older and less decorous
+strain, and wrote these words, it has been said, in humorous allusion
+to the condition in which Jean Armour found herself before marriage;
+as if Burns could be capable of anything so insulting. The words are
+in the Museum.]
+
+
+    Altho' my back be at the wa',
+      An' tho' he be the fautor;
+    Altho' my back be at the wa',
+      Yet here's his health in water!
+    O! wae gae by his wanton sides,
+      Sae brawlie he could flatter;
+    Till for his sake I'm slighted sair,
+      And dree the kintra clatter.
+    But tho' my back be at the wa',
+      And tho' he be the fautor;
+    But tho' my back be at the wa',
+      Yet here's his health in water!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXXIII.
+
+MY PEGGY'S FACE.
+
+Tune--"_My Peggy's Face._"
+
+[Composed in honour of Miss Margaret Chalmers, afterwards Mrs. Lewis
+Hay, one of the wisest, and, it is said, the wittiest of all the
+poet's lady correspondents. Burns, in the note in which he
+communicated it to Johnson, said he had a strong private reason for
+wishing it to appear in the second volume of the Museum.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    My Peggy's face, my Peggy's form,
+    The frost of hermit age might warm;
+    My Peggy's worth, my Peggy's mind,
+    Might charm the first of human kind.
+    I love my Peggy's angel air,
+    Her face so truly, heav'nly fair,
+    Her native grace so void of art,
+    But I adore my Peggy's heart.
+
+II.
+
+    The lily's hue, the rose's dye,
+    The kindling lustre of an eye;
+    Who but owns their magic sway?
+    Who but knows they all decay!
+    The tender thrill, the pitying tear,
+    The gen'rous purpose, nobly dear,
+    The gentle look, that rage disarms--
+    These are all immortal charms.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXXIV.
+
+GLOOMY DECEMBER.
+
+Tune--"_Wandering Willie._"
+
+[These verses were, it is said, inspired by Clarinda, and must be
+taken as a record of his feelings at parting with one dear to him in
+the last moment of existence--the Mrs. Mac of many a toast, both in
+serious and festive hours.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Ance mair I hail thee, thou gloomy December!
+      Ance mair I hail thee wi' sorrow and care:
+    Sad was the parting thou makes me remember,
+      Parting wi' Nancy, oh! ne'er to meet mair.
+    Fond lovers' parting is sweet painful pleasure,
+      Hope beaming mild on the soft parting hour;
+    But the dire feeling, O farewell for ever!
+      Is anguish unmingled, and agony pure.
+
+II.
+
+    Wild as the winter now tearing the forest,
+      'Till the last leaf o' the summer is flown,
+    Such is the tempest has shaken my bosom,
+      Since my last hope and last comfort is gone!
+    Still as I hail thee, thou gloomy December,
+      Still shall I hail thee wi' sorrow and care;
+    For sad was the parting thou makes me remember,
+      Parting wi' Nancy, oh! ne'er to meet mair.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXXV.
+
+MY LADY'S GOWN, THERE'S GAIRS UPON'T.
+
+Tune--"_Gregg's Pipes._"
+
+[Most of this song is from the pen of Burns: he corrected the
+improprieties, and infused some of his own lyric genius into the old
+strain, and printed the result in the Museum.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    My lady's gown, there's gairs upon't,
+    And gowden flowers sae rare upon't;
+    But Jenny's jimps and jirkinet,
+    My lord thinks meikle mair upon't.
+    My lord a-hunting he is gane,
+    But hounds or hawks wi' him are nane;
+    By Colin's cottage lies his game,
+    If Colin's Jenny be at hame.
+
+II.
+
+    My lady's white, my lady's red,
+    And kith and kin o' Cassillis' blude;
+    But her ten-pund lands o' tocher guid
+    Were a' the charms his lordship lo'ed.
+
+III.
+
+    Out o'er yon muir, out o'er yon moss,
+    Whare gor-cocks thro' the heather pass,
+    There wons auld Colin's bonnie lass,
+    A lily in a wilderness.
+
+IV.
+
+    Sae sweetly move her genty limbs,
+    Like music notes o' lovers' hymns:
+    The diamond dew is her een sae blue,
+    Where laughing love sae wanton swims.
+
+V.
+
+    My lady's dink, my lady's drest,
+    The flower and fancy o' the west;
+    But the lassie that a man lo'es best,
+    O that's the lass to make him blest.
+    My lady's gown, there's gairs upon't,
+    And gowden flowers sae rare upon't;
+    But Jenny's jimps and jirkinet,
+    My lord thinks meikle mair upon't.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXXVI.
+
+AMANG THE TREES.
+
+Tune--"_The King of France, he rade a race._"
+
+[Burns wrote these verses in scorn of those, and they are many, who
+prefer
+
+    "The capon craws and queer ha ha's!"
+
+of emasculated Italy to the original and delicious airs, Highland and
+Lowland, of old Caledonia: the song is a fragment--the more's the
+pity.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Amang the trees, where humming bees
+      At buds and flowers were hinging, O,
+    Auld Caledon drew out her drone,
+      And to her pipe was singing, O;
+    'Twas pibroch, sang, strathspey, or reels,
+      She dirl'd them aff fu' clearly, O,
+    When there cam a yell o' foreign squeels,
+      That dang her tapsalteerie, O.
+
+II.
+
+    Their capon craws and queer ha ha's,
+      They made our lugs grow eerie, O;
+    The hungry bike did scrape and pike,
+      'Till we were wae and weary, O;
+    But a royal ghaist wha ance was cas'd
+      A prisoner aughteen year awa,
+    He fir'd a fiddler in the north
+      That dang them tapsalteerie, O.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXXVII.
+
+THE GOWDEN LOCKS OF ANNA.
+
+Tune--"_Banks of Banna._"
+
+["Anne with the golden locks," one of the attendant maidens in Burns's
+Howff, in Dumfries, was very fair and very tractable, and, as may be
+surmised from the song, had other pretty ways to render herself
+agreeable to the customers than the serving of wine. Burns recommended
+this song to Thomson; and one of his editors makes him say, "I think
+this is one of the best love-songs I ever composed," but these are not
+the words of Burns; this contradiction is made openly, lest it should
+be thought that the bard had the bad taste to prefer this strain to
+dozens of others more simple, more impassioned, and more natural.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Yestreen I had a pint o' wine,
+      A place where body saw na';
+    Yestreen lay on this breast o' mine
+      The gowden locks of Anna.
+    The hungry Jew in wilderness
+      Rejoicing o'er his manna,
+    Was naething to my hinny bliss
+      Upon the lips of Anna.
+
+II.
+
+    Ye monarchs tak the east and west,
+      Frae Indus to Savannah!
+    Gie me within my straining grasp
+      The melting form of Anna.
+    There I'll despise imperial charms,
+      An empress or sultana,
+    While dying raptures in her arms
+      I give and take with Anna!
+
+III.
+
+    Awa, thou flaunting god o' day!
+      Awa, thou pale Diana!
+    Ilk star gae hide thy twinkling ray,
+      When I'm to meet my Anna.
+    Come, in thy raven plumage, night!
+      Sun, moon, and stars withdrawn a';
+    And bring an angel pen to write
+      My transports wi' my Anna!
+
+IV.
+
+    The kirk an' state may join and tell--
+      To do sic things I maunna:
+    The kirk and state may gang to hell,
+      And I'll gae to my Anna.
+    She is the sunshine of my e'e,
+      To live but her I canna:
+    Had I on earth but wishes three,
+      The first should be my Anna.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXXVIII.
+
+MY AIN KIND DEARIE O.
+
+[This is the first song composed by Burns for the national collection
+of Thomson: it was written in October, 1792. "On reading over the
+Lea-rig," he says, "I immediately set about trying my hand on it, and,
+after all, I could make nothing more of it than the following." The
+first and second verses were only sent: Burns added the third and last
+verse in December.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    When o'er the hill the eastern star
+      Tells bughtin-time is near, my jo;
+    And owsen frae the furrow'd field
+      Return sae dowf and weary, O!
+    Down by the burn, where scented birks[137]
+      Wi' dew are hanging clear, my jo;
+    I'll meet thee on the lea-rig,
+      My ain kind dearie O!
+
+II.
+
+    In mirkest glen, at midnight hour,
+      I'd rove, and ne'er be eerie, O;
+    If thro' that glen I gaed to thee,
+      My ain kind dearie O!
+    Altho' the night were ne'er sae wild,
+      And I were ne'er sae wearie, O,
+    I'd meet thee on the lea-rig,
+      My ain kind dearie O!
+
+III.
+
+    The hunter lo'es the morning sun,
+      To rouse the mountain deer, my jo;
+    At noon the fisher seeks the glen,
+      Alang the burn to steer, my jo;
+    Gie me the hour o' gloamin gray,
+      It maks my heart sae cheery, O,
+    To meet thee on the lea-ring,
+      My ain kind dearie O!
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 137: For "scented birks," in some copies, "birken buds."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXXIX.
+
+TO MARY CAMPBELL.
+
+["In my very early years," says Burns to Thomson "when I was thinking
+of going to the West Indies, I took the following farewell of a dear
+girl. You must know that all my earlier love-songs were the breathings
+of ardent passion, and though it might have been easy in after times
+to have given them a polish, yet that polish, to me, would have
+defaced the legend of my heart, so faithfully inscribed on them.
+Their uncouth simplicity was, as they say of wines, their race." The
+heroine of this early composition was Highland Mary.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary,
+      And leave old Scotia's shore?
+    Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary,
+      Across th' Atlantic's roar?
+
+II.
+
+    O sweet grows the lime and the orange,
+      And the apple on the pine;
+    But a' the charms o' the Indies
+      Can never equal thine.
+
+III.
+
+    I hae sworn by the Heavens to my Mary,
+      I hae sworn by the Heavens to be true;
+    And sae may the Heavens forget me
+      When I forget my vow!
+
+IV.
+
+    O plight me your faith, my Mary,
+      And plight me your lily white hand;
+    O plight me your faith, my Mary,
+      Before I leave Scotia's strand.
+
+V.
+
+    We hae plighted our troth, my Mary,
+      In mutual affection to join;
+    And curst be the cause that shall part us!
+      The hour and the moment o' time!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXXX.
+
+THE WINSOME WEE THING.
+
+[These words were written for Thomson: or rather made extempore. "I
+might give you something more profound," says the poet, "yet it might
+not suit the light-horse gallop of the air, so well as this random
+clink."]
+
+
+I.
+
+    She is a winsome wee thing,
+    She is a handsome wee thing,
+    She is a bonnie wee thing,
+      This sweet wee wife o' mine.
+
+II.
+
+    I never saw a fairer,
+    I never lo'ed a dearer;
+    And niest my heart I'll wear her,
+      For fear my jewel tine.
+
+III.
+
+    She is a winsome wee thing,
+    She is a handsome wee thing,
+    She is a bonnie wee thing,
+      This sweet wee wife o' mine.
+
+IV.
+
+    The warld's wrack we share o't,
+    The warstle and the care o't;
+    Wi' her I'll blythely bear it,
+      And think my lot divine.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXXXI.
+
+BONNIE LESLEY.
+
+["I have just," says Burns to Thomson, "been looking over the
+'Collier's bonnie Daughter,' and if the following rhapsody, which I
+composed the other day, on a charming Ayrshire girl, Miss Leslie
+Baillie, as she passed through this place to England, will suit your
+taste better than the Collier Lassie, fall on and welcome." This lady
+was soon afterwards married to Mr. Cuming, of Logie.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O saw ye bonnie Lesley
+      As she ga'ed o'er the border?
+    She's gane, like Alexander,
+      To spread her conquests farther.
+
+II.
+
+    To see her is to love her,
+      And love but her for ever;
+    For Nature made her what she is,
+      And never made anither!
+
+III.
+
+    Thou art a queen, fair Lesley,
+      Thy subjects we, before thee:
+    Thou art divine, fair Lesley,
+      The hearts o' men adore thee.
+
+IV.
+
+    The deil he could na scaith thee,
+      Or aught that wad belang thee;
+    He'd look into thy bonnie face,
+      And say, "I canna wrang thee."
+
+V.
+
+    The powers aboon will tent thee;
+      Misfortune sha' na steer thee:
+    Thou'rt like themselves so lovely,
+      That ill they'll ne'er let near thee.
+
+VI.
+
+    Return again, fair Lesley,
+      Return to Caledonie;
+    That we may brag, we hae a lass
+      There's nane again sae bonnie.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXXXII.
+
+HIGHLAND MARY.
+
+Tune--"_Katherine Ogie._"
+
+[Mary Campbell, of whose worth and beauty Burns has sung with such
+deep feeling, was the daughter of a mariner, who lived in Greenock.
+She became acquainted with the poet while on service at the castle of
+Montgomery, and their strolls in the woods and their roaming trysts
+only served to deepen and settle their affections. Their love had much
+of the solemn as well as of the romantic: on the day of their
+separation they plighted their mutual faith by the exchange of Bibles:
+they stood with a running-stream between them, and lifting up water in
+their hands vowed love while woods grew and waters ran. The Bible
+which the poet gave was elegantly bound: 'Ye shall not swear by my
+name falsely,' was written in the bold Mauchline hand of Burns, and
+underneath was his name, and his mark as a freemason. They parted to
+meet no more: Mary Campbell was carried off suddenly by a burning
+fever, and the first intimation which the poet had of her fate, was
+when, it is said, he visited her friends to meet her on her return
+from Cowal, whither she had gone to make arrangements for her
+marriage. The Bible is in the keeping of her relations: we have seen a
+lock of her hair; it was very long and very bright, and of a hue
+deeper than the flaxen. The song was written for Thomson's work.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Ye banks, and braes, and streams around
+      The castle o' Montgomery,
+    Green be your woods, and fair your flowers,
+      Your waters never drumlie!
+    There Simmer first unfauld her robes,
+      And there the langest tarry;
+    For there I took the last farewell
+      O' my sweet Highland Mary.
+
+II.
+
+    How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk,
+      How rich the hawthorn's blossom,
+    As underneath their fragrant shade
+      I clasp'd her to my bosom!
+    The golden hours, on angel wings,
+      Flew o'er me and my dearie;
+    For dear to me, as light and life,
+      Was my sweet Highland Mary!
+
+III.
+
+    Wi' mony a vow, and lock'd embrace,
+      Our parting was fu' tender;
+    And, pledging aft to meet again,
+      We tore oursels asunder;
+    But oh! fell death's untimely frost,
+      That nipt my flower sae early!--
+    Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay,
+      That wraps my Highland Mary!
+
+IV.
+
+    O pale, pale now, those rosy lips
+      I aft hae kissed sae fondly!
+    And clos'd for ay the sparkling glance
+      That dwelt on me sae kindly!
+    And mouldering now in silent dust,
+      That heart that lo'ed me dearly--
+    But still within my bosom's core
+      Shall live my Highland Mary!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXXXIII.
+
+AULD ROB MORRIS.
+
+[The starting lines of this song are from one of no little merit in
+Ramsey's collection: the old strain is sarcastic; the new strain is
+tender: it was written for Thomson.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    There's auld Rob Morris that wons in yon glen,
+    He's the king o' guid fellows and wale of auld men;
+    He has gowd in his coffers, he has owsen and kine,
+    And ae bonnie lassie, his darling and mine.
+
+II.
+
+    She's fresh as the morning, the fairest in May;
+    She's sweet as the ev'ning amang the new hay;
+    As blythe and as artless as the lamb on the lea,
+    And dear to my heart as the light to my e'e.
+
+III.
+
+    But oh! she's an heiress,--auld Robin's a laird,
+    And my daddie has nought but a cot-house and yard;
+    A wooer like me mamma hope to come speed;
+    The wounds I must hide that will soon be my dead.
+
+IV.
+
+    The day comes to me, but delight brings me nane;
+    The night comes to me, but my rest it is gane:
+    I wander my lane like a night-troubled ghaist,
+    And I sigh as my heart it wad burst in my breast.
+
+V.
+
+    O had she but been of a lower degree,
+    I then might hae hop'd she wad smil'd upon me!
+    O, how past descriving had then been my bliss,
+    As now my distraction no words can express!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXXXIV.
+
+DUNCAN GRAY.
+
+[This Duncan Gray of Burns, has nothing in common with the wild old
+song of that name, save the first line, and a part of the third,
+neither has it any share in the sentiments of an earlier strain, with
+the same title, by the same hand. It was written for the work of
+Thomson.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Duncan Gray cam here to woo,
+      Ha, ha, the wooing o't;
+    On blythe yule night when we were fou,
+      Ha, ha, the wooing o't.
+    Maggie coost her head fu' high,
+    Look'd asklent and unco skeigh,
+    Gart poor Duncan stand abeigh;
+      Ha, ha, the wooing o't.
+
+II.
+
+    Duncan fleech'd, and Duncan pray'd,
+      Ha, ha, the wooing o't;
+    Meg was deaf as Ailsa Craig,
+      Ha, ha, the wooing o't.
+    Duncan sigh'd baith out and in,
+    Grat his een baith bleer't and blin',
+    Spak o' lowpin o'er a linn;
+      Ha, ha, the wooing o't.
+
+III.
+
+    Time and chance are but a tide,
+      Ha, ha, the wooing o't;
+    Slighted love is sair to bide,
+      Ha, ha, the wooing o't.
+    Shall I, like a fool, quoth he,
+    For a haughty hizzie die?
+    She may gae to--France for me!
+      Ha, ha, the wooing o't.
+
+IV.
+
+    How it comes let doctors tell,
+      Ha, ha, the wooing o't;
+    Meg grew sick--as he grew heal,
+      Ha, ha, the wooing o't.
+    Something in her bosom wrings,
+    For relief a sigh she brings:
+    And O, her een, they spak sic things!
+      Ha, ha, the wooing o't.
+
+V.
+
+    Duncan was a lad o' grace.
+      Ha, ha, the wooing o't;
+    Maggie's was a piteous case,
+      Ha, ha, the wooing o't.
+    Duncan could na be her death,
+    Swelling pity smoor'd his wrath;
+    Now they're crouse and canty baith,
+      Ha, ha, the wooing o't.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXXXV.
+
+O POORTITH CAULD.
+
+Tune--"_I had a horse._"
+
+[Jean Lorimer, the Chloris and the "Lassie with the lint-white locks"
+of Burns, was the heroine of this exquisite lyric: she was at that
+time very young; her shape was fine, and her "dimpled cheek and cherry
+mou" will be long remembered in Nithsdale.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O poortith cauld, and restless love,
+      Ye wreck my peace between ye;
+    Yet poortith a' I could forgive,
+        An' twere na' for my Jeanie.
+          O why should fate sic pleasure have,
+            Life's dearest bands untwining?
+          Or why sae sweet a flower as love
+            Depend on fortune's shining?
+
+II.
+
+    This warld's wealth when I think on,
+      It's pride, and a' the lave o't--
+    Fie, fie on silly coward man,
+      That he should be the slave o't!
+
+III.
+
+    Her een sae bonnie blue betray
+      How she repays my passion;
+    But prudence is her o'erword ay,
+      She talks of rank and fashion.
+
+IV.
+
+    O wha can prudence think upon,
+      And sic a lassie by him?
+    O wha can prudence think upon,
+      And sae in love as I am?
+
+V.
+
+    How blest the humble cotter's fate![138]
+      He wooes his simple dearie;
+    The silly bogles, wealth and state,
+      Can never make them eerie.
+          O why should Fate sic pleasure have,
+            Life's dearest bands untwining?
+          Or why sae sweet a flower as love
+            Depend on Fortune's shining?
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 138: "The wild-wood Indian's Fate," in the original MS.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXXXVI.
+
+GALLA WATER.
+
+["Galla Water" is an improved version of an earlier song by Burns: but
+both songs owe some of their attractions to an older strain, which the
+exquisite air has made popular over the world. It was written for
+Thomson.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    There's braw, braw lads on Yarrow braes,
+      That wander thro' the blooming heather;
+    But Yarrow braes nor Ettrick shaws
+      Can match the lads o' Galla Water.
+
+II.
+
+    But there is ane, a secret ane,
+      Aboon them a' I lo'e him better;
+    And I'll be his, and he'll be mine,
+      The bonnie lad o' Galla Water.
+
+III.
+
+    Altho' his daddie was nae laird,
+      And tho' I hae nae meikle tocher;
+    Yet rich in kindest, truest love,
+      We'll tent our flocks by Galla Water.
+
+IV.
+
+    It ne'er was wealth, it ne'er was wealth,
+      That coft contentment, peace, or pleasure;
+    The bands and bliss o' mutual love,
+      O that's the chiefest warld's treasure!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXXXVII.
+
+LORD GREGORY.
+
+[Dr. Wolcot wrote a Lord Gregory for Thomson's collection, in
+imitation of which Burns wrote his, and the Englishman complained,
+with an oath, that the Scotchman sought to rob him of the merit of his
+composition. Wolcot's song was, indeed, written first, but they are
+both but imitations of that most exquisite old ballad, "Fair Annie of
+Lochryan," which neither Wolcot nor Burns valued as it deserved: it
+far surpasses both their songs.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O mirk, mirk is this midnight hour,
+      And loud the tempest's roar;
+    A waefu' wanderer seeks thy tow'r,
+      Lord Gregory, ope thy door!
+
+II.
+
+    An exile frae her father's ha',
+      And a' for loving thee;
+    At least some pity on me shaw,
+      If love it may na be.
+
+III.
+
+    Lord Gregory, mind'st thou not the grove
+      By bonnie Irwin-side,
+    Where first I own'd that virgin-love
+      I lang, lang had denied?
+
+IV.
+
+    How often didst thou pledge and vow
+      Thou wad for ay be mine;
+    And my fond heart, itsel' sae true,
+      It ne'er mistrusted thine.
+
+V.
+
+    Hard is thy heart, Lord Gregory,
+      And flinty is thy breast--
+    Thou dart of heaven that flashest by,
+      O wilt thou give me rest!
+
+VI.
+
+    Ye mustering thunders from above,
+      Your willing victim see!
+    But spare and pardon my fause love,
+      His wrangs to heaven and me!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXXXVIII.
+
+MARY MORISON.
+
+Tune--"_Bide ye yet._"
+
+["The song prefixed," observes Burns to Thomson, "is one of my
+juvenile works. I leave it in your hands. I do not think it very
+remarkable either for its merits or its demerits." "Of all the
+productions of Burns," says Hazlitt, "the pathetic and serious
+love-songs which he has left behind him, in the manner of the old
+ballads, are, perhaps, those which take the deepest and most lasting
+hold of the mind. Such are the lines to Mary Morison." The song is
+supposed to have been written on one of a family of Morisons at
+Mauchline.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    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!
+
+II.
+
+    Yestreen, when to the trembling string
+      The dance gaed thro' the lighted ha',
+    To thee my fancy took its wing,
+      I sat, but neither heard or saw:
+    Tho' 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."
+
+III.
+
+    O Mary, canst thou wreck his peace,
+      Wha for thy sake wad gladly die?
+    Or canst thou break that heart of his,
+      Whase only faut 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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXXXIX.
+
+WANDERING WILLIE.
+
+[FIRST VERSION.]
+
+[The idea of this song is taken from verses of the same name published
+by Herd: the heroine is supposed to have been the accomplished Mrs.
+Riddel. Erskine and Thomson sat in judgment upon it, and, like true
+critics, squeezed much of the natural and original spirit out of it.
+Burns approved of their alterations; but he approved, no doubt, in
+bitterness of spirit.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Here awa, there awa, wandering Willie,
+      Now tired with wandering, haud awa hame;
+    Come to my bosom, my ae only dearie,
+      And tell me thou bring'st me my Willie the same.
+
+II.
+
+    Loud blew the cauld winter winds at our parting;
+      It was na the blast brought the tear in my e'e;
+    Now welcome the simmer, and welcome my Willie,
+      The simmer to nature, my Willie to me.
+
+III.
+
+    Ye hurricanes, rest in the cave o' your slumbers!
+      O how your wild horrors a lover alarms!
+    Awaken, ye breezes, row gently, ye billows,
+      And waft my dear laddie ance mair to my arms.
+
+IV.
+
+    But if he's forgotten his faithfulest Nannie,
+      O still flow between us, thou wide roaring main;
+    May I never see it, may I never trow it,
+      But, dying, believe that my Willie's my ain.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXC.
+
+WANDERING WILLIE.
+
+[LAST VERSION.]
+
+[This is the "Wandering Willie" as altered by Erskine and Thomson, and
+approved by Burns, after rejecting several of their emendations. The
+changes were made chiefly with the view of harmonizing the words with
+the music--an Italian mode of mending the harmony of the human voice.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Here awa, there awa, wandering Willie,
+      Here awa, there awa, haud awa hame;
+    Come to my bosom, my ain only dearie,
+      Tell me thou bring'st me my Willie the same.
+
+II.
+
+    Winter winds blew loud and cauld at our parting,
+      Fears for my Willie brought tears in my e'e;
+    Welcome now simmer, and welcome my Willie,
+      The simmer to nature, my Willie to me.
+
+III.
+
+    Rest, ye wild storms, in the cave of your slumbers,
+      How your dread howling a lover alarms!
+    Wauken, ye breezes, row gently, ye billows,
+      And waft my dear laddie ance mair to my arms.
+
+IV.
+
+    But oh, if he's faithless, and minds na his Nannie,
+      Flow still between us, thou wide roaring main;
+    May I never see it, may I never trow it,
+      But, dying, believe that my Willie's my ain.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXCI.
+
+OPEN THE DOOR TO ME, OH!
+
+[Written for Thomson's collection: the first version which he wrote
+was not happy in its harmony: Burns altered and corrected it as it now
+stands, and then said, "I do not know if this song be really mended."]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Oh, open the door, some pity to show,
+      Oh, open the door to me, Oh![139]
+    Tho' thou has been false, I'll ever prove true,
+      Oh, open the door to me, Oh!
+
+II.
+
+    Cauld is the blast upon my pale cheek,
+      But caulder thy love for me, Oh!
+    The frost that freezes the life at my heart,
+      Is nought to my pains frae thee, Oh!
+
+III.
+
+    The wan moon is setting behind the white wave,
+      And time is setting with me, Oh!
+    False friends, false love, farewell! for mair
+      I'll ne'er trouble them, nor thee, Oh!
+
+IV.
+
+    She has open'd the door, she has open'd it wide;
+      She sees his pale corse on the plain, Oh!
+    My true love! she cried, and sank down by his side,
+      Never to rise again, Oh!
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 139: This second line was originally--"If love it may na be,
+Oh!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXCII.
+
+JESSIE.
+
+Tune--"_Bonnie Dundee._"
+
+[Jessie Staig, the eldest daughter of the provost of Dumfries, was
+the heroine of this song. She became a wife and a mother, but died
+early in life: she is still affectionately remembered in her native
+place.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    True hearted was he, the sad swain o' the Yarrow,
+      And fair are the maids on the banks o' the Ayr,
+    But by the sweet side o' the Nith's winding river,
+      Are lovers as faithful, and maidens as fair:
+    To equal young Jessie seek Scotland all over;
+      To equal young Jessie you seek it in vain;
+    Grace, beauty, and elegance fetter her lover,
+      And maidenly modesty fixes the chain.
+
+II.
+
+    O, fresh is the rose in the gay, dewy morning,
+      And sweet is the lily at evening close;
+    But in the fair presence o' lovely young Jessie
+      Unseen is the lily, unheeded the rose.
+    Love sits in her smile, a wizard ensnaring;
+      Enthron'd in her een he delivers his law:
+    And still to her charms she alone is a stranger--
+      Her modest demeanour's the jewel of a'!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXCIII.
+
+THE POOR AND HONEST SODGER.
+
+Air--"_The Mill, Mill, O._"
+
+[Burns, it is said, composed this song, once very popular, on hearing
+a maimed soldier relate his adventures, at Brownhill, in Nithsdale: it
+was published by Thomson, after suggesting some alterations, which
+were properly rejected.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    When wild war's deadly blast was blawn
+      And gentle peace returning,
+    Wi' mony a sweet babe fatherless,
+      And mony a widow mourning;
+    I left the lines and tented field,
+      Where lang I'd been a lodger,
+    My humble knapsack a' my wealth,
+      A poor and honest sodger.
+
+II.
+
+    A leal, light heart was in my breast,
+    My hand unstain'd wi' plunder;
+    And for fair Scotia, hame again,
+      I cheery on did wander.
+    I thought upon the banks o' Coil,
+      I thought upon my Nancy,
+    I thought upon the witching smile
+      That caught my youthful fancy.
+
+III.
+
+    At length I reach'd the bonny glen,
+      Where early life I sported;
+    I pass'd the mill, and trysting thorn,
+      Where Nancy aft I courted:
+    Wha spied I but my ain dear maid,
+      Down by her mother's dwelling!
+    And turn'd me round to hide the flood
+      That in my een was swelling.
+
+IV.
+
+    Wi' alter'd voice, quoth I, sweet lass,
+      Sweet as yon hawthorn's blossom,
+    O! happy, happy, may he be
+      That's dearest to thy bosom!
+    My purse is light, I've far to gang,
+      And fain wud be thy lodger;
+    I've serv'd my king and country lang--
+      Take pity on a sodger.
+
+V.
+
+    Sae wistfully she gaz'd on me,
+      And lovelier was then ever;
+    Quo' she, a sodger ance I lo'd,
+      Forget him shall I never:
+    Our humble cot, and hamely fare,
+      Ye freely shall partake it,
+    That gallant badge--the dear cockade--
+      Ye're welcome for the sake o't.
+
+VI.
+
+    She gaz'd--she redden'd like a rose--
+      Syne pale like onie lily;
+    She sank within my arms, and cried,
+      Art thou my ain dear Willie?
+    By him who made yon sun and sky--
+      By whom true love's regarded,
+    I am the man: and thus may still
+      True lovers be rewarded!
+
+VII.
+
+    The wars are o'er, and I'm come hame,
+      And find thee still true-hearted;
+    Tho' poor in gear, we're rich in love,
+      And mair we'se ne'er be parted.
+    Quo' she, my grandsire left me gowd,
+      A mailen plenish'd fairly;
+    And come, my faithful sodger lad,
+      Thou'rt welcome to it dearly!
+
+VIII.
+
+    For gold the merchant ploughs the main,
+      The farmer ploughs the manor;
+    But glory is the sodger's prize,
+      The sodger's wealth is honour;
+    The brave poor sodger ne'er despise,
+      Nor count him as a stranger;
+    Remember he's his country's stay,
+      In day and hour of danger.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXCIV.
+
+MEG O' THE MILL.
+
+Air--"_Hey! bonnie lass, will you lie in a barrack?_"
+
+["Do you know a fine air," Burns asks Thomson, April, 1973, "called
+'Jackie Hume's Lament?' I have a song of considerable merit to that
+air: I'll enclose you both song and tune, as I have them ready to send
+to the Museum." It is probable that Thomson liked these verses too
+well to let them go willingly from his hands: Burns touched up the old
+song with the same starting line, but a less delicate conclusion, and
+published it in the Museum.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O ken ye what Meg o' the Mill has gotten?
+    An' ken ye what Meg o' the Mill has gotten?
+    She has gotten a coof wi' a claute o' siller,
+    And broken the heart o' the barley Miller.
+
+II.
+
+    The Miller was strappin, the Miller was ruddy;
+    A heart like a lord and a hue like a lady:
+    The Laird was a widdiefu', bleerit knurl;
+    She's left the guid-fellow and ta'en the churl.
+
+III.
+
+    The Miller he hecht her a heart leal and loving;
+    The Laird did address her wi' matter mair moving,
+    A fine pacing horse wi' a clear chained bridle,
+    A whip by her side and a bonnie side-saddle.
+
+IV.
+
+    O wae on the siller, it is sae prevailing;
+    And wae on the love that is fixed on a mailen'
+    A tocher's nae word in a true lover's parle,
+    But gie me my love, and a fig for the warl!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXCV.
+
+BLYTHE HAE I BEEN.
+
+Tune--"_Liggeram Cosh._"
+
+[Burns, who seldom praised his own compositions, told Thomson, for
+whose work he wrote it, that "Blythe hae I been on yon hill," was one
+of the finest songs he had ever made in his life, and composed on one
+of the most lovely women in the world. The heroine was Miss Lesley
+Baillie.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Blythe hae I been on yon hill
+      As the lambs before me;
+    Careless ilka thought and free
+      As the breeze flew o'er me.
+    Now nae langer sport and play,
+      Mirth or sang can please me;
+    Lesley is sae fair and coy,
+      Care and anguish seize me.
+
+II.
+
+    Heavy, heavy is the task,
+      Hopeless love declaring:
+    Trembling, I dow nocht but glow'r,
+      Sighing, dumb, despairing!
+    If she winna ease the thraws
+      In my bosom swelling,
+    Underneath the grass-green sod
+      Soon maun be my dwelling.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "LOGAN BRAES."]
+
+CXCVI.
+
+LOGAN WATER.
+
+["Have you ever, my dear sir," says Burns to Thomson, 25th June, 1793,
+"felt your bosom ready to burst with indignation on reading of those
+mighty villains who divide kingdom against kingdom, desolate
+provinces, and lay nations waste, out of wantoness of ambition, or
+often from still more ignoble passions? In a mood of this kind to-day
+I recollected the air of Logan Water. If I have done anything at all
+like justice to my feelings, the following song, composed in
+three-quarters of an hour's meditation in my elbow-chair, ought to
+have some merit." The poet had in mind, too, during this poetic fit,
+the beautiful song of Logan-braes, by my friend John Mayne, a
+Nithsdale poet.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O Logan, sweetly didst thou glide,
+    That day I was my Willie's bride!
+    And years synsyne hae o'er us run
+    Like Logan to the simmer sun.
+    But now thy flow'ry banks appear
+    Like drumlie winter, dark and drear,
+    While my dear lad maun face his faes,
+    Far, far frae me and Logan braes!
+
+II.
+
+    Again the merry month o' May
+    Has made our hills and valleys gay;
+    The birds rejoice in leafy bowers,
+    The bees hum round the breathing flowers;
+    Blythe Morning lifts his rosy eye,
+    And Evening's tears are tears of joy:
+    My soul, delightless, a' surveys,
+    While Willie's far frae Logan braes.
+
+III.
+
+    Within yon milk-white hawthorn bush,
+    Amang her nestlings sits the thrush;
+    Her faithfu' mate will share her toil,
+    Or wi' his song her cares beguile:
+    But I, wi' my sweet nurslings here,
+    Nae mate to help, nae mate to cheer,
+    Pass widow'd nights and joyless days,
+    While Willie's far frae Logan braes.
+
+IV.
+
+    O wae upon you, men o' state,
+    That brethren rouse to deadly hate!
+    As ye make mony a fond heart mourn,
+    Sae may it on your heads return!
+    How can your flinty hearts enjoy
+    The widow's tears, the orphan's cry?[140]
+    But soon may peace bring happy days
+    And Willie hame to Logan braes!
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 140: Originally--
+
+    "Ye mind na, 'mid your cruel joys,
+    The widow's tears, the orphan's cries."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXCVII.
+
+THE RED, RED ROSE.
+
+Air--"_Hughie Graham._"
+
+[There are snatches of old song so exquisitely fine that, like
+fractured crystal, they cannot be mended or eked out, without showing
+where the hand of the restorer has been. This seems the case with the
+first verse of this song, which the poet found in Witherspoon, and
+completed by the addition of the second verse, which he felt to be
+inferior, by desiring Thomson to make his own the first verse, and let
+the other follow, which would conclude the strain with a thought as
+beautiful as it was original.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O were my love yon lilac fair,
+      Wi' purple blossoms to the spring;
+    And I, a bird to shelter there,
+      When wearied on my little wing!
+    How I wad mourn, when it was torn
+      By autumn wild, and winter rude!
+    But I wad sing on wanton wing,
+      When youthfu' May its bloom renewed.
+
+II.
+
+    O gin my love were yon red rose,
+      That grows upon the castle wa';
+    And I mysel' a drap o' dew,
+      Into her bonnie breast to fa'!
+    Oh, there beyond expression blest,
+      I'd feast on beauty a' the night;
+    Seal'd on her silk-saft faulds to rest,
+      Till fley'd awa by Phoebus' light.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXCVIII.
+
+BONNIE JEAN.
+
+[Jean M'Murdo, the heroine of this song, the eldest daughter of John
+M'Murdo of Drumlanrig, was, both in merit and look, very worthy of so
+sweet a strain, and justified the poet from the charge made against
+him in the West, that his beauties were not other men's beauties. In
+the M'Murdo manuscript, in Burns's handwriting, there is a
+well-merited compliment which has slipt out of the printed copy in
+Thomson:--
+
+    "Thy _handsome_ foot thou shalt na set
+    In barn or byre to trouble thee."]
+
+
+I.
+
+    There was a lass, and she was fair,
+      At kirk and market to be seen,
+    When a' the fairest maids were met,
+      The fairest maid was bonnie Jean.
+
+II.
+
+    And aye she wrought her mammie's wark,
+      And ay she sang so merrilie:
+    The blithest bird upon the bush
+      Had ne'er a lighter heart than she.
+
+III.
+
+    But hawks will rob the tender joys
+      That bless the little lintwhite's nest;
+    And frost will blight the fairest flowers,
+      And love will break the soundest rest.
+
+IV.
+
+    Young Robie was the brawest lad,
+      The flower and pride of a' the glen;
+    And he had owsen, sheep, and kye,
+      And wanton naigies nine or ten.
+
+V.
+
+    He gaed wi' Jeanie to the tryste,
+      He danc'd wi' Jeanie on the down;
+    And, lang ere witless Jeanie wist,
+      Her heart was tint, her peace was stown.
+
+VI.
+
+    As in the bosom o' the stream,
+      The moon-beam dwells at dewy e'en;
+    So trembling, pure, was tender love
+      Within the breast o' bonnie Jean.
+
+VII.
+
+    And now she works her mammie's wark,
+      And ay she sighs wi' care and pain;
+    Yet wist na what her ail might be,
+      Or what wad mak her weel again.
+
+VIII.
+
+    But did na Jeanie's heart loup light,
+      And did na joy blink in her e'e,
+    As Robie tauld a tale of love,
+      Ae e'enin' on the lily lea?
+
+IX.
+
+    The sun was sinking in the west,
+      The birds sung sweet in ilka grove;
+    His cheek to hers he fondly prest,
+      And whisper'd thus his tale o' love:
+
+X.
+
+    O Jeanie fair, I lo'e thee dear;
+      O canst thou think to fancy me!
+    Or wilt thou leave thy mammie's cot,
+      And learn to tent the farms wi' me?
+
+XI.
+
+    At barn or byre thou shalt na drudge,
+      Or naething else to trouble thee;
+    But stray amang the heather-bells,
+      And tent the waving corn wi' me.
+
+XII.
+
+    Now what could artless Jeanie do?
+      She had nae will to say him na:
+    At length she blush'd a sweet consent,
+      And love was ay between them twa.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXCIX.
+
+PHILLIS THE FAIR.
+
+Tune--"Robin Adair."
+
+[The ladies of the M'Murdo family were graceful and beautiful, and
+lucky in finding a poet capable of recording their charms in lasting
+strains. The heroine of this song was Phyllis M'Murdo; a favourite of
+the poet. The verses were composed at the request of Clarke, the
+musician, who believed himself in love with his "charming pupil." She
+laughed at the presumptuous fiddler.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    While larks with little wing
+      Fann'd the pure air,
+    Tasting the breathing spring,
+      Forth I did fare:
+    Gay the sun's golden eye
+    Peep'd o'er the mountains high;
+    Such thy morn! did I cry,
+      Phillis the fair.
+
+II.
+
+    In each bird's careless song,
+      Glad I did share;
+    While yon wild flowers among,
+      Chance led me there:
+    Sweet to the opening day,
+    Rosebuds bent the dewy spray;
+    Such thy bloom! did I say,
+      Phillis the fair.
+
+III.
+
+    Down in a shady walk
+      Doves cooing were,
+    I mark'd the cruel hawk,
+      Caught in a snare:
+    So kind may fortune be,
+    Such make his destiny!
+    He who would injure thee,
+      Phillis the fair.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CC.
+
+HAD I A CAVE.
+
+Tune--"Robin Adair."
+
+[Alexander Cunningham, on whose unfortunate love-adventure Burns
+composed this song for Thomson, was a jeweller in Edinburgh, well
+connected, and of agreeable and polished manners. The story of his
+faithless mistress was the talk of Edinburgh, in 1793, when these
+words were written: the hero of the lay has been long dead; the
+heroine resides, a widow, in Edinburgh.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Had I a cave on some wild, distant shore,
+      Where the winds howl to the waves' dashing roar;
+        There would I weep my woes,
+          There seek my lost repose,
+            Till grief my eyes should close,
+              Ne'er to wake more.
+
+II.
+
+    Falsest of womankind, canst thou declare,
+      All thy fond plighted vows--fleeting as air!
+        To thy new lover hie,
+          Laugh o'er thy perjury,
+            Then in thy bosom try
+              What peace is there!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCI.
+
+BY ALLAN STREAM.
+
+["Bravo! say I," exclaimed Burns, when he wrote these verses for
+Thomson. "It is a good song. Should you think so too, not else, you
+can set the music to it, and let the other follow as English verses.
+Autumn is my propitious season; I make more verses in it than all the
+year else." The old song of "O my love Annie's very bonnie," helped
+the muse of Burns with this lyric.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    By Allan stream I chanced to rove
+      While Phoebus sank beyond Benledi;
+    The winds were whispering through the grove,
+      The yellow corn was waving ready;
+    I listened to a lover's sang,
+      And thought on youthfu' pleasures mony:
+    And aye the wild wood echoes rang--
+      O dearly do I lo'e thee, Annie!
+
+II.
+
+    O happy be the woodbine bower,
+      Nae nightly bogle make it eerie;
+    Nor ever sorrow stain the hour,
+      The place and time I met my dearie!
+    Her head upon my throbbing breast,
+      She, sinking, said, "I'm thine for ever?"
+    While mony a kiss the seal imprest,
+      The sacred vow,--we ne'er should sever.
+
+III.
+
+    The haunt o' Spring's the primrose brae,
+      The Simmer joys the flocks to follow;
+    How cheery, thro' her shortening day,
+      Is Autumn, in her weeds o' yellow!
+    But can they melt the glowing heart,
+      Or chain the soul in speechless pleasure,
+    Or thro' each nerve the rapture dart,
+      Like meeting her, our bosom's treasure?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "O WHISTLE, AND I'LL COME TO YOU, MY LAD".]
+
+CCII.
+
+O WHISTLE, AND I'LL COME TO YOU.
+
+[In one of the variations of this song the name of the heroine is
+Jeanie: the song itself owes some of the sentiments as well as words
+to an old favourite Nithsdale chant of the same name. "Is Whistle, and
+I'll come to you, my lad," Burns inquires of Thomson, "one of your
+airs? I admire it much, and yesterday I set the following verses to
+it." The poet, two years afterwards, altered the fourth line thus:--
+
+    "Thy Jeany will venture wi' ye, my lad,"
+
+and assigned this reason: "In fact, a fair dame at whose shrine I, the
+priest of the Nine, offer up the incense of Parnassus; a dame whom the
+Graces have attired in witchcraft, and whom the Loves have armed with
+lightning; a fair one, herself the heroine of the song, insists on the
+amendment, and dispute her commands if you dare."]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad,
+    O whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad:
+    Tho' father and mither and a' should gae mad,
+    O whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad.
+    But warily tent, when you come to court me,
+    And come na unless the back-yett be a-jee;
+    Syne up the back-stile and let naebody see,
+    And come as ye were na comin' to me.
+    And come as ye were na comin' to me.
+
+II.
+
+    At kirk, or at market, whene'er ye meet me,
+    Gang by me as tho' that ye car'd na a flie;
+    But steal me a blink o' your bonnie black e'e,
+    Yet look as ye were na lookin' at me.
+    Yet look as ye were na lookin' at me.
+
+III.
+
+    Ay vow and protest that ye care na for me,
+    And whiles ye may lightly my beauty a wee;
+    But court na anither, tho' jokin' ye be,
+    For fear that she wyle your fancy frae me.
+    For fear that she wyle your fancy frae me.
+
+IV.
+
+    O whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad,
+    O whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad:
+    Tho' father and mither and a' should gae mad,
+    O whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCIII.
+
+ADOWN WINDING NITH.
+
+["Mr. Clarke," says Burns to Thompson, "begs you to give Miss Phillis
+a corner in your book, as she is a particular flame of his. She is a
+Miss Phillis M'Murdo, sister to 'Bonnie Jean;' they are both pupils of
+his." This lady afterwards became Mrs. Norman Lockhart, of Carnwath.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Adown winding Nith I did wander,
+      To mark the sweet flowers as they spring;
+    Adown winding Nith I did wander,
+      Of Phillis to muse and to sing.
+    Awa wi' your belles and your beauties,
+      They never wi' her can compare:
+    Whaever has met wi' my Phillis,
+      Has met wi' the queen o' the fair.
+
+II.
+
+    The daisy amus'd my fond fancy,
+      So artless, so simple, so wild;
+    Thou emblem, said I, o' my Phillis,
+      For she is simplicity's child.
+
+III.
+
+    The rose-bud's the blush o' my charmer,
+      Her sweet balmy lip when 'tis prest:
+    How fair and how pure is the lily,
+      But fairer and purer her breast.
+
+IV.
+
+    Yon knot of gay flowers in the arbour,
+      They ne'er wi' my Phillis can vie:
+    Her breath is the breath o' the woodbine,
+      Its dew-drop o' diamond, her eye.
+
+V.
+
+    Her voice is the song of the morning,
+      That wakes thro' the green-spreading grove,
+    When Phoebus peeps over the mountains,
+      On music, and pleasure, and love.
+
+VI.
+
+    But beauty how frail and how fleeting,
+      The bloom of a fine summer's day!
+    While worth in the mind o' my Phillis
+      Will flourish without a decay.
+    Awa wi' your belles and your beauties,
+      They never wi' her can compare:
+    Whaever has met wi' my Phillis
+      Has met wi' the queen o' the fair.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCIV.
+
+COME, LET ME TAKE THEE.
+
+Air--"_Cauld Kail._"
+
+[Burns composed this lyric in August, 1793, and tradition says it was
+produced by the charms of Jean Lorimer. "That tune, Cauld Kail," he
+says to Thomson, "is such a favorite of yours, that I once roved out
+yesterday for a gloaming-shot at the Muses; when the Muse that
+presides over the shores of Nith, or rather my old inspiring, dearest
+nymph, Coila, whispered me the following."]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Come, let me take thee to my breast,
+      And pledge we ne'er shall sunder;
+    And I shall spurn as vilest dust
+      The warld's wealth and grandeur:
+    And do I hear my Jeanie own
+      That equal transports move her?
+    I ask for dearest life alone,
+      That I may live to love her.
+
+II.
+
+    Thus in my arms, wi' a' thy charms,
+      I clasp my countless treasure;
+    I'll seek nae mair o' heaven to share,
+      Than sic a moment's pleasure:
+    And by thy een, sae bonnie blue,
+      I swear I'm thine for ever!
+    And on thy lips I seal my vow,
+      And break it shall I never.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCV.
+
+DAINTY DAVIE.
+
+[From the old song of "Daintie Davie" Burns has borrowed only the
+title and the measure. The ancient strain records how the Rev. David
+Williamson, to escape the pursuit of the dragoons, in the time of the
+persecution, was hid, by the devout Lady of Cherrytrees, in the same
+bed with her ailing daughter. The divine lived to have six wives
+beside the daughter of the Lady of Cherrytrees, and other children
+besides the one which his hiding from the dragoons produced. When
+Charles the Second was told of the adventure and its upshot, he is
+said to have exclaimed, "God's fish! that beats me and the oak: the
+man ought to be made a bishop."]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Now rosy May comes in wi' flowers,
+    To deck her gay, green-spreading bowers;
+    And now comes in my happy hours,
+      To wander wi' my Davie.
+        Meet me on the warlock knowe,
+          Dainty Davie, dainty Davie,
+        There I'll spend the day wi' you,
+          My ain dear dainty Davie.
+
+II.
+
+    The crystal waters round us fa',
+    The merry birds are lovers a',
+    The scented breezes round us blaw,
+      A wandering wi' my Davie.
+
+III.
+
+    When purple morning starts the hare,
+    To steal upon her early fare,
+    Then thro' the dews I will repair,
+      To meet my faithfu' Davie
+
+IV.
+
+    When day, expiring in the west,
+    The curtain draws o' nature's rest,
+    I flee to his arms I lo'e best,
+      And that's my ain dear Davie.
+        Meet me on the warlock knowe,
+          Bonnie Davie, dainty Davie,
+        There I'll spend the day wi' you,
+          My ain dear dainty Davie.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCVI.
+
+BRUCE TO HIS MEN AT BANNOCKBURN.
+
+[FIRST VERSION.]
+
+Tune--"_Hey, tuttie taitie._"
+
+[Syme of Ryedale states that this fine ode was composed during a storm
+of rain and fire, among the wilds of Glenken in Galloway: the poet
+himself gives an account much less romantic. In speaking of the air to
+Thomson, he says, "There is a tradition which I have met with in many
+places in Scotland, that it was Robert Bruce's march at the battle of
+Bannockburn. This thought, in my solitary wanderings, warmed me to a
+pitch of enthusiasm on the theme of liberty and independence, which I
+threw into a kind of Scottish ode, fitted to the air, that one might
+suppose to be the royal Scot's address to his heroic followers on that
+eventful morning." It was written in September, 1793.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled,
+    Scots, wham Bruce has aften led;
+    Welcome to your gory bed,
+        Or to victorie!
+
+II.
+
+    Now's the day, and now's the hour;
+    See the front o' battle lour:
+    See approach proud Edward's pow'r--
+        Chains and slaverie!
+
+III.
+
+    Wha will be a traitor-knave?
+    Wha can fill a coward's grave?
+    Wha sae base as be a slave!
+        Let him turn and flee!
+
+IV.
+
+    Wha for Scotland's king and law
+    Freedom's sword will strongly draw,
+    Freeman stand, or freeman fa',
+        Let him follow me!
+
+V.
+
+    By oppression's woes and pains!
+    By our sons in servile chains!
+    We will drain our dearest veins,
+        But they shall be free!
+
+VI.
+
+    Lay the proud usurpers low!
+    Tyrants fall in every foe!
+    Liberty's in every blow!--
+        Let us do or die!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCVII.
+
+BANNOCKBURN.
+
+ROBERT BRUCE'S ADDRESS TO HIS ARMY.
+
+[SECOND VERSION.]
+
+[Thomson acknowledged the charm which this martial and national ode
+had for him, but he disliked the air, and proposed to substitute that
+of Lewis Gordon in its place. But Lewis Gordon required a couple of
+syllables more in every fourth line, which loaded the verse with
+expletives, and weakened the simple energy of the original: Burns
+consented to the proper alterations, after a slight resistance; but
+when Thomson, having succeeded in this, proposed a change in the
+expression, no warrior of Bruce's day ever resisted more sternly the
+march of a Southron over the border. "The only line," says the
+musician, "which I dislike in the whole song is,
+
+    'Welcome to your gory bed:'
+
+gory presents a disagreeable image to the mind, and a prudent general
+would avoid saying anything to his soldiers which might tend to make
+death more frightful than it is." "My ode," replied Burns, "pleases me
+so much that I cannot alter it: your proposed alterations would, in my
+opinion, make it tame." Thomson cries out, like the timid wife of
+Coriolanus, "Oh, God, no blood!" while Burns exclaims, like that
+Roman's heroic mother, "Yes, blood! it becomes a soldier more than
+gilt his trophy." The ode as originally written was restored
+afterwards in Thomson's collection.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled,
+    Scots, wham Bruce has aften led;
+    Welcome to your gory bed,
+      Or to glorious victorie!
+
+II.
+
+    Now's the day, and now's the hour--
+    See the front o' battle lour;
+    See approach proud Edward's power--
+      Edward! chains and slaverie!
+
+III.
+
+    Wha will be a traitor-knave?
+    Wha can fill a coward's grave?
+    Wha sae base as be a slave?
+      Traitor! coward! turn and flee!
+
+IV.
+
+    Wha for Scotland's king and law
+    Freedom's sword will strongly draw,
+    Freeman stand, or freeman fa',
+      Caledonian! on wi' me!
+
+V.
+
+    By oppression's woes and pains!
+    By our sons in servile chains!
+    We will drain our dearest veins,
+      But they shall be--shall be free!
+
+VI.
+
+    Lay the proud usurpers low!
+    Tyrants fall in every foe!
+    Liberty's in every blow!
+      Forward! let us do, or die!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCVIII.
+
+BEHOLD THE HOUR.
+
+Tune--"_Oran-gaoil._"
+
+["The following song I have composed for the Highland air that you
+tell me in your last you have resolved to give a place to in your
+book. I have this moment finished the song, so you have it glowing
+from the mint." These are the words of Burns to Thomson: he might have
+added that the song was written on the meditated voyage of Clarinda to
+the West Indies, to join her husband.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Behold the hour, the boat arrive;
+      Thou goest, thou darling of my heart!
+    Sever'd from thee can I survive?
+      But fate has will'd, and we must part.
+    I'll often greet this surging swell,
+      Yon distant isle will often hail:
+    "E'en here I took the last farewell;
+      There, latest mark'd her vanish'd sail."
+
+II.
+
+    Along the solitary shore
+      While flitting sea-fowl round me cry,
+    Across the rolling, dashing roar,
+      I'll westward turn my wistful eye:
+    Happy, thou Indian grove, I'll say,
+      Where now my Nancy's path may be!
+    While thro' thy sweets she loves to stray,
+      O tell me, does she muse on me?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCIX.
+
+THOU HAST LEFT ME EVER.
+
+Tune--"_Fee him, father._"
+
+["I do not give these verses," says Burns to Thomson, "for any merit
+they have. I composed them at the time in which 'Patie Allan's mither
+died, about the back o' midnight,' and by the lee side of a bowl of
+punch, which had overset every mortal in company, except the hautbois
+and the muse." To the poet's intercourse with musicians we owe some
+fine songs.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Thou hast left me ever, Jamie!
+      Thou hast left me ever;
+    Thou hast left me ever, Jamie!
+      Thou hast left me ever.
+    Aften hast thou vow'd that death
+      Only should us sever;
+    Now thou's left thy lass for ay--
+      I maun see thee never, Jamie,
+        I'll see thee never!
+
+II.
+
+    Thou hast me forsaken, Jamie!
+      Thou hast me forsaken;
+    Thou hast me forsaken, Jamie!
+      Thou hast me forsaken.
+    Thou canst love anither jo,
+      While my heart is breaking:
+    Soon my weary een I'll close,
+      Never mair to waken, Jamie,
+        Ne'er mair to waken!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCX.
+
+AULD LANG SYNE.
+
+["Is not the Scotch phrase," Burns writes to Mrs. Dunlop, "Auld lang
+syne, exceedingly expressive? There is an old song and tune which has
+often thrilled through my soul: I shall give you the verses on the
+other sheet. Light be the turf on the breast of the heaven-inspired
+poet who composed this glorious fragment." "The following song," says
+the poet, when he communicated it to George Thomson, "an old song of
+the olden times, and which has never been in print, nor even in
+manuscript, until I took it down from an old man's singing, is enough
+to recommend any air." These are strong words, but there can be no
+doubt that, save for a line or two, we owe the song to no other
+minstrel than "minstrel Burns."]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
+      And never brought to min'?
+    Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
+      And days o' lang syne?
+        For auld lang syne, my dear,
+          For auld lang syne,
+        We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
+          For auld lang syne!
+
+II.
+
+    We twa hae run about the braes,
+      And pu't the gowans fine;
+    But we've wander'd mony a weary foot,
+      Sin' auld lang syne.
+
+III.
+
+    We twa hae paidl't i' the burn,
+      Frae mornin' sun till dine:
+    But seas between us braid hae roar'd,
+      Sin' auld lang syne.
+
+IV.
+
+    And here's a hand, my trusty fiere,
+      And gie's a hand o' thine;
+    And we'll take a right guid willie-waught,
+      For auld lang syne.
+
+V.
+
+    And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp,
+      And surely I'll be mine;
+    And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
+      For auld lang syne.
+        For auld lang syne, my dear,
+          For auld lang syne,
+        We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
+          For auld lang syne!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXI.
+
+FAIR JEANY.
+
+Tune--"_Saw ye my father?_"
+
+[In September, 1793, this song, as well as several others, was
+communicated to Thomson by Burns. "Of the poetry," he says, "I speak
+with confidence: but the music is a business where I hint my ideas
+with the utmost diffidence."]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Where are the joys I have met in the morning,
+      That danc'd to the lark's early song?
+    Where is the peace that awaited my wand'ring,
+      At evening the wild woods among?
+
+II.
+
+    No more a-winding the course of yon river,
+      And marking sweet flow'rets so fair:
+    No more I trace the light footsteps of pleasure,
+      But sorrow and sad sighing care.
+
+III.
+
+    Is it that summer's forsaken our valleys,
+      And grim, surly winter is near?
+    No, no, the bees' humming round the gay roses,
+      Proclaim it the pride of the year.
+
+IV.
+
+    Fain would I hide, what I fear to discover,
+      Yet long, long too well have I known,
+    All that has caused this wreck in my bosom,
+      Is Jeany, fair Jeany alone.
+
+V.
+
+    Time cannot aid me, my griefs are immortal,
+      Nor hope dare a comfort bestow:
+    Come then, enamour'd and fond of my anguish,
+      Enjoyment I'll seek in my woe.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXII.
+
+DELUDED SWAIN, THE PLEASURE.
+
+[To the air of the "Collier's dochter," Burns bids Thomson add the
+following old Bacchanal: it is slightly altered from a rather stiff
+original.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Deluded swain, the pleasure
+      The fickle fair can give thee,
+    Is but a fairy treasure--
+      Thy hopes will soon deceive thee.
+
+II.
+
+    The billows on the ocean,
+      The breezes idly roaming,
+    The clouds uncertain motion--
+      They are but types of woman.
+
+III.
+
+    O! art thou not ashamed
+      To doat upon a feature?
+    If man thou wouldst be named,
+      Despise the silly creature.
+
+IV.
+
+    Go find an honest fellow;
+      Good claret set before thee:
+    Hold on till thou art mellow,
+      And then to bed in glory.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXIII.
+
+NANCY.
+
+[This song was inspired by the charms of Clarinda. In one of the
+poet's manuscripts the song commences thus:
+
+    Thine am I, my lovely Kate,
+      Well thou mayest discover
+    Every pulse along my veins
+      Tell the ardent lover.
+
+This change was tried out of compliment, it is believed, to Mrs.
+Thomson; but Nancy ran more smoothly on the even road of lyrical verse
+than Kate.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Thine am I, my faithful fair,
+      Thine, my lovely Nancy;
+    Ev'ry pulse along my veins,
+      Ev'ry roving fancy.
+
+II.
+
+    To thy bosom lay my heart,
+      There to throb and languish:
+    Tho' despair had wrung its core,
+      That would heal its anguish.
+
+III.
+
+    Take away those rosy lips,
+      Rich with balmy treasure:
+    Turn away thine eyes of love,
+      Lest I die with pleasure.
+
+IV.
+
+    What is life when wanting love?
+      Night without a morning:
+    Love's the cloudless summer sun,
+      Nature gay adorning.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXIV.
+
+HUSBAND, HUSBAND.
+
+Tune--"_Jo Janet._"
+
+["My Jo Janet," in the collection of Allan Ramsay, was in the poet's
+eye when he composed this song, as surely as the matrimonial
+bickerings recorded by the old minstrels were in his mind. He desires
+Thomson briefly to tell him how he likes these verses: the response of
+the musician was, "Inimitable."]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Husband, husband, cease your strife,
+      Nor longer idly rave, sir;
+    Tho' I am your wedded wife,
+      Yet I am not your slave, sir.
+    "One of two must still obey,
+      Nancy, Nancy;
+    Is it man or woman, say,
+      My spouse, Nancy?"
+
+II.
+
+    If 'tis still the lordly word,
+      Service and obedience;
+    I'll desert my sov'reign lord,
+      And so, good bye, allegiance!
+    "Sad will I be, so bereft,
+      Nancy, Nancy;
+    Yet I'll try to make a shift,
+      My spouse, Nancy."
+
+III.
+
+    My poor heart then break it must,
+      My last hour I'm near it:
+    When you lay me in the dust,
+      Think, think, how you will bear it.
+    "I will hope and trust in heaven,
+      Nancy, Nancy;
+    Strength to bear it will be given,
+      My spouse, Nancy."
+
+IV.
+
+    Well, sir, from the silent dead,
+      Still I'll try to daunt you;
+    Ever round your midnight bed
+      Horrid sprites shall haunt you.
+    "I'll wed another, like my dear
+      Nancy, Nancy;
+    Then all hell will fly for fear,
+      My spouse, Nancy."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXV.
+
+WILT THOU BE MY DEARIE.
+
+Air--"_The Sutor's Dochter._"
+
+[Composed, it is said, in honour of Janet Miller, of Dalswinton,
+mother to the present Earl of Marr, and then, and long after, one of
+the loveliest women in the south of Scotland.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Wilt thou be my dearie?
+    When sorrow wrings thy gentle heart,
+    Wilt thou let me cheer thee?
+    By the treasure of my soul,
+    That's the love I bear thee!
+    I swear and vow that only thou
+    Shall ever be my dearie.
+    Only thou, I swear and vow,
+    Shall ever be my dearie.
+
+II.
+
+    Lassie, say thou lo'es me;
+    Or if thou wilt no be my ain,
+    Say na thou'lt refuse me:
+    If it winna, canna be,
+    Thou, for thine may choose me,
+    Let me, lassie, quickly die,
+    Trusting that thou lo'es me.
+    Lassie, let me quickly die,
+    Trusting that thou lo'es me.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXVI.
+
+BUT LATELY SEEN.
+
+Tune--"_The winter of life._"
+
+[This song was written for Johnson's Museum, in 1794: the air is East
+Indian: it was brought from Hindostan by a particular friend of the
+poet. Thomson set the words to the air of Gil Morrice: they are
+elsewhere set to the tune of the Death of the Linnet.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    But lately seen in gladsome green,
+      The woods rejoiced the day;
+    Thro' gentle showers and laughing flowers,
+      In double pride were gay:
+    But now our joys are fled
+      On winter blasts awa!
+    Yet maiden May, in rich array,
+      Again shall bring them a'.
+
+II.
+
+    But my white pow, nae kindly thowe
+      Shall melt the snaws of age;
+    My trunk of eild, but buss or bield,
+      Sinks in Time's wintry rage.
+    Oh! age has weary days,
+      And nights o' sleepless pain!
+    Thou golden time o' youthfu' prime,
+      Why comes thou not again?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXVII.
+
+TO MARY.
+
+Tune--"_Could aught of song._"
+
+[These verses, inspired partly by Hamilton's very tender and elegant
+song,
+
+    "Ah! the poor shepherd's mournful fate,"
+
+and some unrecorded "Mary" of the poet's heart, is in the latter
+volumes of Johnson. "It is inserted in Johnson's Museum," says Sir
+Harris Nicolas, "with the name of Burns attached." He might have added
+that it was sent by Burns, written with his own hand.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Could aught of song declare my pains,
+      Could artful numbers move thee,
+    The muse should tell, in labour'd strains,
+      O Mary, how I love thee!
+    They who but feign a wounded heart
+      May teach the lyre to languish;
+    But what avails the pride of art,
+      When wastes the soul with anguish?
+
+II.
+
+    Then let the sudden bursting sigh
+      The heart-felt pang discover;
+    And in the keen, yet tender eye,
+      O read th' imploring lover.
+    For well I know thy gentle mind
+      Disdains art's gay disguising;
+    Beyond what Fancy e'er refin'd,
+      The voice of nature prizing.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXVIII.
+
+HERE'S TO THY HEALTH, MY BONNIE LASS.
+
+Tune--"_Laggan Burn._"
+
+["This song is in the Musical Museum, with Burns's name to it," says
+Sir Harris Nicolas. It is a song of the poet's early days, which he
+trimmed up, and sent to Johnson.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Here's to thy health, my bonnie lass,
+      Gude night, and joy be wi' thee;
+    I'll come na mair to thy bower-door,
+      To tell thee that I lo'e thee.
+    O dinna think, my pretty pink,
+      But I can live without thee:
+    I vow and swear I dinna care
+      How lang ye look about ye.
+
+II.
+
+    Thou'rt ay sae free informing me
+      Thou hast na mind to marry;
+    I'll be as free informing thee
+      Nae time hae I to tarry.
+    I ken thy friends try ilka means,
+      Frae wedlock to delay thee;
+    Depending on some higher chance--
+      But fortune may betray thee.
+
+III.
+
+    I ken they scorn my low estate,
+      But that does never grieve me;
+    But I'm as free as any he,
+      Sma' siller will relieve me.
+    I count my health my greatest wealth,
+      Sae long as I'll enjoy it:
+    I'll fear na scant, I'll bode nae want,
+      As lang's I get employment.
+
+IV.
+
+    But far off fowls hae feathers fair,
+      And ay until ye try them:
+    Tho' they seem fair, still have a care,
+      They may prove waur than I am.
+    But at twal at night, when the moon shines bright,
+      My dear, I'll come and see thee;
+    For the man that lo'es his mistress weel,
+      Nae travel makes him weary.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXIX.
+
+THE FAREWELL.
+
+Tune--"_It was a' for our rightfu' king._"
+
+["It seems very doubtful," says Sir Harris Nicolas, "how much, even if
+any part of this song was written by Burns: it occurs in the Musical
+Museum, but not with his name." Burns, it is believed, rather pruned
+and beautified an old Scottish lyric, than composed this strain
+entirely. Johnson received it from him in his own handwriting.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    It was a' for our rightfu' king,
+      We left fair Scotland's strand;
+    It was a' for our rightfu' king
+      We e'er saw Irish land,
+                      My dear;
+      We e'er saw Irish land.
+
+II.
+
+    Now a' is done that men can do,
+      And a' is done in vain;
+    My love and native land farewell,
+      For I maun cross the main,
+                      My dear;
+      For I maun cross the main.
+
+III.
+
+    He turn'd him right, and round about
+      Upon the Irish shore;
+    And gae his bridle-reins a shake,
+      With adieu for evermore,
+                      My dear;
+      With adieu for evermore.
+
+IV.
+
+    The sodger from the wars returns,
+      The sailor frae the main;
+    But I hae parted frae my love,
+      Never to meet again,
+                      My dear;
+      Never to meet again
+
+V.
+
+    When day is gane, and night is come,
+      And a' folk bound to sleep;
+    I think on him that's far awa',
+      The lee-lang night, and weep,
+                      My dear;
+      The lee-lang night, and weep.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXX.
+
+O STEER HER UP.
+
+Tune--"_O steer her up, and haud her gaun._"
+
+[Burns, in composing these verses, took the introductory lines of an
+older lyric, eked them out in his own way, and sent them to the
+Museum.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O steer her up and haud her gaun--
+      Her mother's at the mill, jo;
+    And gin she winna take a man,
+      E'en let her take her will, jo:
+    First shore her wi' a kindly kiss,
+      And ca' another gill, jo,
+    And gin she take the thing amiss,
+      E'en let her flyte her fill, jo.
+
+II.
+
+    O steer her up, and be na blate,
+      An' gin she take it ill, jo,
+    Then lea'e the lassie till her fate,
+      And time nae longer spill, jo:
+    Ne'er break your heart for ae rebute,
+      But think upon it still, jo,
+    That gin the lassie winna do't,
+      Ye'll fin' anither will, jo.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXXI.
+
+O AY MY WIFE SHE DANG ME.
+
+Tune--"_My wife she dang me._"
+
+[Other verses to the same air, belonging to the olden times, are still
+remembered in Scotland: but they are only sung when the wine is in,
+and the sense of delicacy out. This song is in the Museum.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O ay my wife she dang me,
+      And aft my wife did bang me,
+    If ye gie a woman a' her will,
+      Gude faith, she'll soon o'er-gang ye.
+    On peace and rest my mind was bent,
+      And fool I was I married;
+    But never honest man's intent,
+      As cursedly miscarried.
+
+II.
+
+    Some sairie comfort still at last,
+      When a' their days are done, man;
+    My pains o' hell on earth are past,
+      I'm sure o' bliss aboon, man.
+    O ay my wife she dang me,
+      And aft my wife did bang me,
+    If ye gie a woman a' her will,
+      Gude faith, she'll soon o'er-gang ye.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXXII.
+
+OH, WERT THOU IN THE CAULD BLAST.
+
+Tune--"_Lass o' Livistone._"
+
+[Tradition says this song was composed in honour of Jessie Lewars, the
+Jessie of the poet's death-bed strains. It is inserted in Thomson's
+collection: variations occur in several manuscripts, but they are
+neither important nor curious.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Oh, wert thou in the cauld blast,
+      On yonder lea, on yonder lea,
+    My plaidie to the angry airt,
+      I'd shelter thee, I'd shelter thee:
+    Or did misfortune's bitter storms
+      Around thee blaw, around thee blaw,
+    Thy bield should be my bosom,
+      To share it a', to share it a'.
+
+II.
+
+    Or were I in the wildest waste,
+      Sae black and bare, sae black and bare,
+    The desert were a paradise,
+      If thou wert there, if thou wert there:
+    Or were I monarch o' the globe,
+      Wi' thee to reign, wi' thee to reign,
+    The brightest jewel in my crown
+      Wad be my queen, wad be my queen.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXXIII.
+
+HERE IS THE GLEN.
+
+Tune--"_Banks of Cree._"
+
+[Of the origin of this song the poet gives the following account. "I
+got an air, pretty enough, composed by Lady Elizabeth Heron, of Heron,
+which she calls 'The Banks of Cree.' Cree is a beautiful romantic
+stream: and as her ladyship is a particular friend of mine, I have
+written the following song to it."]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Here is the glen, and here the bower,
+      All underneath the birchen shade;
+    The village-bell has told the hour--
+      O what can stay my lovely maid?
+
+II.
+
+    'Tis not Maria's whispering call;
+      'Tis but the balmy-breathing gale,
+    Mix'd with some warbler's dying fall,
+      The dewy star of eve to hail.
+
+III.
+
+    It is Maria's voice I hear!
+      So calls the woodlark in the grove,
+    His little, faithful mate to cheer,
+      At once 'tis music--and 'tis love.
+
+IV.
+
+    And art thou come? and art thou true?
+      O welcome, dear to love and me!
+    And let us all our vows renew
+      Along the flow'ry banks of Cree.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXXIV.
+
+ON THE SEAS AND FAR AWAY.
+
+Tune--"_O'er the hills," &c._
+
+["The last evening," 29th of August, 1794, "as I was straying out,"
+says Burns, "and thinking of 'O'er the hills and far away,' I spun the
+following stanzas for it. I was pleased with several lines at first,
+but I own now that it appears rather a flimsy business. I give you
+leave to abuse this song, but do it in the spirit of Christian
+meekness."]
+
+
+I.
+
+    How can my poor heart be glad,
+    When absent from my sailor lad?
+    How can I the thought forego,
+    He's on the seas to meet the foe?
+    Let me wander, let me rove,
+    Still my heart is with my love:
+    Nightly dreams, and thoughts by day,
+    Are with him that's far away.
+        On the seas and far away,
+        On stormy seas and far away;
+        Nightly dreams, and thoughts by day,
+        Are ay with him that's far away.
+
+II.
+
+    When in summer's noon I faint,
+    As weary flocks around me pant,
+    Haply in this scorching sun
+    My sailor's thund'ring at his gun:
+    Bullets, spare my only joy!
+    Bullets, spare my darling boy!
+    Fate, do with me what you may--
+    Spare but him that's far away!
+
+III.
+
+    At the starless midnight hour,
+    When winter rules with boundless power:
+    As the storms the forests tear,
+    And thunders rend the howling air,
+    Listening to the doubling roar,
+    Surging on the rocky shore,
+    All I can--I weep and pray,
+    For his weal that's far away.
+
+IV.
+
+    Peace, thy olive wand extend,
+    And bid wild war his ravage end,
+    Man with brother man to meet,
+    And as a brother kindly greet:
+    Then may heaven with prosp'rous gales,
+    Fill my sailor's welcome sails,
+    To my arms their charge convey--
+    My dear lad that's far away.
+        On the seas and far away
+        On stormy seas and far away;
+        Nightly dreams, and thoughts by day,
+        Are ay with him that's far away.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXXV.
+
+CA' THE YOWES.
+
+[Burns formed this song upon an old lyric, an amended version of which
+he had previously communicated to the Museum: he was fond of musing in
+the shadow of Lincluden towers, and on the banks of Cluden Water.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Ca' the yowes to the knowes,
+    Ca' them whare the heather growes,
+    Ca' them whare the burnie rowes--
+      My bonnie dearie!
+    Hark the mavis' evening sang
+    Sounding Cluden's woods amang!
+    Then a faulding let us gang,
+      My bonnie dearie.
+
+II.
+
+    We'll gae down by Cluden side,
+    Thro' the hazels spreading wide,
+    O'er the waves that sweetly glide
+      To the moon sae clearly.
+
+III.
+
+    Yonder Cluden's silent towers,
+    Where at moonshine midnight hours,
+    O'er the dewy bending flowers,
+      Fairies dance so cheery.
+
+IV.
+
+    Ghaist nor bogle shalt thou fear;
+    Thou'rt to love and heaven sae dear,
+    Nocht of ill may come thee near,
+      My bonnie dearie.
+
+V.
+
+    Fair and lovely as thou art,
+    Thou hast stown my very heart;
+    I can die--but canna part--
+      My bonnie dearie!
+    Ca' the yowes to the knowes,
+    Ca' them whare the heather growes;
+    Ca' them where the burnie rowes--
+      My bonnie dearie!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXXVI.
+
+SHE SAYS SHE LOVES ME BEST OF A'.
+
+Tune--"_Onagh's Waterfall._"
+
+[The lady of the flaxen ringlets has already been noticed: she is
+described in this song with the accuracy of a painter, and more than
+the usual elegance of one: it is needless to add her name, or to say
+how fine her form and how resistless her smiles.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Sae flaxen were her ringlets,
+      Her eyebrows of a darker hue,
+    Bewitchingly o'er-arching
+      Twa laughin' een o' bonnie blue.
+    Her smiling sae wyling,
+      Wad make a wretch forget his woe;
+    What pleasure, what treasure,
+      Unto these rosy lips to grow:
+    Such was my Chloris' bonnie face,
+      When first her bonnie face I saw;
+    And ay my Chloris' dearest charm,
+      She says she lo'es me best of a'.
+
+II.
+
+    Like harmony her motion;
+      Her pretty ankle is a spy,
+    Betraying fair proportion,
+      Wad mak a saint forget the sky.
+    Sae warming, sae charming,
+      Her faultless form and gracefu' air;
+    Ilk feature--auld Nature
+      Declar'd that she could do nae mair:
+    Hers are the willing chains o' love,
+      By conquering beauty's sovereign law;
+    And ay my Chloris' dearest charm,
+      She says she lo'es me best of a'.
+
+III.
+
+    Let others love the city,
+      And gaudy show at sunny noon;
+    Gie me the lonely valley,
+      The dewy eve, and rising moon;
+    Fair beaming, and streaming,
+      Her silver light the boughs amang;
+    While falling, recalling,
+      The amorous thrush concludes his sang;
+    There, dearest Chloris, wilt thou rove
+      By wimpling burn and leafy shaw,
+    And hear my vows o' truth and love,
+      And say thou lo'es me best of a'?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXXVII.
+
+SAW YE MY PHELY.
+
+[QUASI DICAT PHILLIS.]
+
+Tune--"_When she came ben she bobbit._"
+
+[The despairing swain in this song was Stephen Clarke, musician, and
+the young lady whom he persuaded Burns to accuse of inconstancy and
+coldness was Phillis M'Murdo.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O saw ye my dear, my Phely?
+    O saw ye my dear, my Phely?
+    She's down i' the grove, she's wi' a new love!
+      She winna come hame to her Willy.
+
+II.
+
+    What says she, my dearest, my Phely?
+    What says she, my dearest, my Phely?
+    She lets thee to wit that she has thee forgot,
+      And for ever disowns thee, her Willy.
+
+III.
+
+    O had I ne'er seen thee, my Phely!
+    O had I ne'er seen thee, my Phely!
+    As light as the air, and fause as thou's fair,
+      Thou's broken the heart o' thy Willy.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXXVIII.
+
+HOW LANG AND DREARY IS THE NIGHT.
+
+Tune--"_Cauld Kail in Aberdeen._"
+
+[On comparing this lyric, corrected for Thomson, with that in the
+Museum, it will be seen that the former has more of elegance and
+order: the latter quite as much nature and truth: but there is less of
+the new than of the old in both.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    How lang and dreary is the night,
+      When I am frae my dearie;
+    I restless lie frae e'en to morn,
+      Though I were ne'er sae weary.
+        For oh! her lanely nights are lang;
+          And oh! her dreams are eerie;
+        And oh, her widow'd heart is sair,
+          That's absent frae her dearie.
+
+II.
+
+    When I think on the lightsome days
+      I spent wi' thee my dearie;
+    And now what seas between us roar--
+      How can I be but eerie?
+
+III.
+
+    How slow ye move, ye heavy hours;
+      The joyless day how dreary!
+    It was na sae ye glinted by,
+      When I was wi' my dearie.
+        For oh! her lanely nights are lang;
+          And oh, her dreams are eerie;
+        And oh, her widow'd heart is sair,
+          That's absent frae her dearie.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXXIX.
+
+LET NOT WOMAN E'ER COMPLAIN.
+
+Tune--"_Duncan Gray._"
+
+["These English songs," thus complains the poet, in the letter which
+conveyed this lyric to Thomson, "gravel me to death: I have not that
+command of the language that I have of my native tongue. I have been
+at 'Duncan Gray,' to dress it in English, but all I can do is
+deplorably stupid. For instance:"]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Let not woman e'er complain
+      Of inconstancy in love;
+    Let not woman e'er complain
+      Fickle man is apt to rove:
+    Look abroad through nature's range,
+    Nature's mighty law is change;
+    Ladies, would it not be strange,
+      Man should then a monster prove?
+
+II.
+
+    Mark the winds, and mark the skies;
+      Ocean's ebb, and ocean's flow:
+    Sun find moon but set to rise,
+      Round and round the seasons go:
+    Why then ask of silly man
+    To oppose great nature's plan?
+    We'll be constant while we can--
+      You can be no more, you know.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXXX.
+
+THE LOVER'S MORNING SALUTE TO HIS MISTRESS.
+
+Tune--"_Deil tak the Wars._"
+
+[Burns has, in one of his letters, partly intimated that this morning
+salutation to Chloris was occasioned by sitting till the dawn at the
+punch-bowl, and walking past her window on his way home.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Sleep'st thou, or wak'st thou, fairest creature?
+        Rosy Morn now lifts his eye,
+    Numbering ilka bud which nature
+        Waters wi' the tears o' joy:
+        Now through the leafy woods,
+        And by the reeking floods,
+    Wild nature's tenants freely, gladly stray;
+        The lintwhite in his bower
+        Chants o'er the breathing flower;
+        The lav'rock to the sky
+        Ascends wi' sangs o' joy,
+    While the sun and thou arise to bless the day.
+
+II.
+
+    Phoebus gilding the brow o' morning,
+        Banishes ilk darksome shade,
+    Nature gladdening and adorning;
+        Such to me my lovely maid.
+        When absent frae my fair,
+        The murky shades o' care
+    With starless gloom o'ercast my sullen sky;
+        But when, in beauty's light,
+        She meets my ravish'd sight,
+        When thro' my very heart
+        Her beaming glories dart--
+    'Tis then I wake to life, to light, and joy.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXXXI.
+
+CHLORIS.
+
+Air--"_My lodging is on the cold ground._"
+
+[The origin of this song is thus told by Burns to Thomson. "On my
+visit the other day to my fair Chloris, that is the poetic name of the
+lovely goddess of my inspiration, she suggested an idea which I, on my
+return from the visit, wrought into the following song." The poetic
+elevation of Chloris is great: she lived, when her charms faded, in
+want, and died all but destitute.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    My Chloris, mark how green the groves,
+      The primrose banks how fair:
+    The balmy gales awake the flowers,
+      And wave thy flaxen hair.
+
+II.
+
+    The lav'rock shuns the palace gay,
+      And o'er the cottage sings;
+    For nature smiles as sweet, I ween,
+      To shepherds as to kings
+
+III.
+
+    Let minstrels sweep the skilfu' string
+      In lordly lighted ha':
+    The shepherd stops his simple reed,
+      Blythe, in the birken shaw.
+
+IV.
+
+    The princely revel may survey
+      Our rustic dance wi' scorn;
+    But are their hearts as light as ours,
+      Beneath the milk-white thorn?
+
+V.
+
+    The shepherd, in the flow'ry glen,
+      In shepherd's phrase will woo:
+    The courtier tells a finer tale--
+      But is his heart as true?
+
+VI.
+
+    These wild-wood flowers I've pu'd, to deck
+      That spotless breast o' thine:
+    The courtier's gems may witness love--
+      But 'tis na love like mine.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXXXII.
+
+CHLOE.
+
+Air--"_Daintie Davie._"
+
+[Burns, despairing to fit some of the airs with such verses of
+original manufacture as Thomson required, for the English part of his
+collection, took the liberty of bestowing a Southron dress on some
+genuine Caledonian lyrics. The origin of this song may be found in
+Ramsay's miscellany: the bombast is abated, and the whole much
+improved.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    It was the charming month of May,
+    When all the flow'rs were fresh and gay,
+    One morning, by the break of day,
+      The youthful charming Chloe
+    From peaceful slumber she arose,
+    Girt on her mantle and her hose,
+    And o'er the flowery mead she goes,
+      The youthful charming Chloe.
+        Lovely was she by the dawn,
+          Youthful Chloe, charming Chloe,
+        Tripping o'er the pearly lawn,
+          The youthful charming Chloe.
+
+II.
+
+    The feather'd people you might see,
+    Perch'd all around, on every tree,
+    In notes of sweetest melody
+      They hail the charming Chloe;
+    Till painting gay the eastern skies,
+    The glorious sun began to rise,
+    Out-rivall'd by the radiant eyes
+      Of youthful, charming Chloe.
+        Lovely was she by the dawn,
+          Youthful Chloe, charming Chloe,
+        Tripping o'er the pearly lawn,
+          The youthful, charming Chloe.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXXXIII.
+
+LASSIE WI' THE LINT-WHITE LOCKS.
+
+Tune--"_Rothemurche's Rant._"
+
+["Conjugal love," says the poet, "is a passion which I deeply feel and
+highly venerate: but somehow it does not make such a figure in poesie
+as that other species of the passion, where love is liberty and nature
+law. Musically speaking, the first is an instrument of which the gamut
+is scanty and confined, but the tones inexpressibly sweet, while the
+last has powers equal to all the intellectual modulations of the human
+soul." It must be owned that the bard could render very pretty reasons
+for his rapture about Jean Lorimer.]
+
+
+I.
+
+      Lassie wi' the lint-white locks,
+        Bonnie lassie, artless lassie,
+      Wilt thou wi' me tent the flocks?
+        Wilt thou be my dearie, O?
+    Now nature cleeds the flowery lea,
+    And a' is young and sweet like thee;
+    O wilt thou share its joy wi' me,
+      And say thoul't be my dearie, O?
+
+II.
+
+    And when the welcome simmer shower
+    Has cheer'd ilk drooping little flower,
+    We'll to the breathing woodbine bower
+      At sultry noon, my dearie, O.
+
+III.
+
+    When Cynthia lights wi' silver ray,
+    The weary shearer's hameward way;
+    Thro' yellow waving fields we'll stray,
+      And talk o' love my dearie, O.
+
+IV.
+
+    And when the howling wintry blast
+    Disturbs my lassie's midnight rest;
+    Enclasped to my faithfu' breast,
+      I'll comfort thee, my dearie, O.
+        Lassie wi' the lint-white locks,
+          Bonnie lassie, artless lassie,
+        Wilt thou wi' me tent the flocks?
+          Wilt thou be my dearie, O?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXXXIV.
+
+FAREWELL, THOU STREAM.
+
+Air--"_Nancy's to the greenwood gane._"
+
+[This song was written in November, 1794: Thomson pronounced it
+excellent.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Farewell, thou stream that winding flows
+      Around Eliza's dwelling!
+    O mem'ry! spare the cruel throes
+      Within my bosom swelling:
+    Condemn'd to drag a hopeless chain,
+      And yet in secret languish,
+    To feel a fire in ev'ry vein,
+      Nor dare disclose my anguish.
+
+II.
+
+    Love's veriest wretch, unseen, unknown,
+      I fain my griefs would cover;
+    The bursting sigh, th' unweeting groan,
+      Betray the hapless lover.
+    I know thou doom'st me to despair,
+      Nor wilt, nor canst relieve me;
+    But oh, Eliza, hear one prayer--
+      For pity's sake forgive me!
+
+III.
+
+    The music of thy voice I heard,
+      Nor wist while it enslav'd me;
+    I saw thine eyes, yet nothing fear'd,
+      'Till fears no more had sav'd me:
+    The unwary sailor thus aghast,
+      The wheeling torrent viewing;
+    'Mid circling horrors sinks at last
+      In overwhelming ruin.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXXXV.
+
+O PHILLY, HAPPY BE THAT DAY.
+
+Tune-"_The Sow's Tail._"
+
+["This morning" (19th November, 1794), "though a keen blowing frost,"
+Burns writes to Thomson, "in my walk before breakfast I finished my
+duet: whether I have uniformly succeeded, I will not say: but here it
+is for you, though it is not an hour old."]
+
+
+HE.
+
+    O Philly, happy be that day,
+    When roving through the gather'd hay,
+    My youthfu' heart was stown away,
+      And by thy charms, my Philly.
+
+SHE.
+
+    O Willy, ay I bless the grove
+    Where first I own'd my maiden love,
+    Whilst thou didst pledge the powers above,
+      To be my ain dear Willy.
+
+HE.
+
+    As songsters of the early year
+    Are ilka day mair sweet to hear,
+    So ilka day to me mair dear
+      And charming is my Philly.
+
+SHE.
+
+    As on the brier the budding rose
+    Still richer breathes and fairer blows,
+    So in my tender bosom grows
+      The love I bear my Willy.
+
+HE.
+
+    The milder sun and bluer sky
+    That crown my harvest cares wi' joy,
+    Were ne'er sae welcome to my eye
+      As is a sight o' Philly.
+
+SHE.
+
+    The little swallow's wanton wing,
+    Tho' wafting o'er the flowery spring,
+    Did ne'er to me sic tidings bring,
+      As meeting o' my Willy.
+
+HE.
+
+    The bee that thro' the sunny hour
+    Sips nectar in the opening flower,
+    Compar'd wi' my delight is poor,
+      Upon the lips o' Philly.
+
+SHE.
+
+    The woodbine in the dewy weet
+    When evening shades in silence meet,
+    Is nocht sae fragrant or sae sweet
+      As is a kiss o' Willy.
+
+HE.
+
+    Let Fortune's wheel at random rin,
+    And fools may tyne, and knaves may win
+    My thoughts are a' bound up in ane,
+      And that's my ain dear Philly.
+
+SHE.
+
+    What's a' joys that gowd can gie?
+    I care nae wealth a single flie;
+    The lad I love's the lad for me,
+      And that's my ain dear Willy.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXXXVI.
+
+CONTENTED WI' LITTLE.
+
+Tune--"_Lumps o' Pudding._"
+
+[Burns was an admirer of many songs which the more critical and
+fastidious regarded as rude and homely. "Todlin Hame" he called an
+unequalled composition for wit and humour, and "Andro wi' his cutty
+Gun," the work of a master. In the same letter, where he records
+these sentiments, he writes his own inimitable song, "Contented wi'
+Little."]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Contented wi' little, and cantie wi' mair,
+    Whene'er I forgather wi' sorrow end care,
+    I gie them a skelp, as they're creepin alang,
+    Wi' a cog o' guid swats, and an auld Scottish sang.
+
+II.
+
+    I whyles claw the elbow o' troublesome thought;
+    But man is a sodger, and life is a faught:
+    My mirth and guid humour are coin in my pouch,
+    And my freedom's my lairdship nae monarch dare touch.
+
+III.
+
+    A towmond o' trouble, should that be my fa',
+    A night o' guid fellowship sowthers it a':
+    When at the blithe end o' our journey at last,
+    Wha the deil ever thinks o' the road he has past?
+
+IV.
+
+    Blind chance, let her snapper and stoyte on her way;
+    Be't to me, be't frae me, e'en let the jade gae:
+    Come ease, or come travail; come pleasure or pain;
+    My warst word is--"Welcome, and welcome again!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXXXVII.
+
+CANST THOU LEAVE ME THUS.
+
+Tune--"_Roy's Wife._"
+
+[When Burns transcribed the following song for Thomson, on the 20th of
+November, 1794, he added, "Well! I think this, to be done in two or
+three turns across my room, and with two or three pinches of Irish
+blackguard, is not so far amiss. You see I am resolved to have my
+quantum of applause from somebody." The poet in this song complains of
+the coldness of Mrs. Riddel: the lady replied in a strain equally
+tender and forgiving.]
+
+
+I.
+
+        Canst thou leave me thus, my Katy?
+        Canst thou leave me thus, my Katy?
+        Well thou know'st my aching heart--
+        And canst thou leave me thus for pity?
+    In this thy plighted, fond regard,
+      Thus cruelly to part, my Katy?
+    Is this thy faithful swain's reward--
+      An aching, broken heart, my Katy!
+
+II.
+
+    Farewell! and ne'er such sorrows tear
+      That fickle heart of thine, my Katy!
+    Thou may'st find those will love thee dear--
+      But not a love like mine, my Katy!
+        Canst thou leave me thus, my Katy?
+        Canst thou leave me thus, my Katy?
+        Well thou know'st my aching heart--
+        And canst thou leave me thus for pity?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXXXVIII.
+
+MY NANNIE'S AWA.
+
+Tune--"_There'll never be peace._"
+
+[Clarinda, tradition avers, was the inspirer of this song, which the
+poet composed in December, 1794, for the work of Thomson. His thoughts
+were often in Edinburgh: on festive occasions, when, as Campbell
+beautifully says, "The wine-cup shines in light," he seldom forgot to
+toast Mrs. Mac.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Now in her green mantle blythe nature arrays,
+    And listens the lambkins that bleat o'er the braes,
+    While birds warble welcome in ilka green shaw;
+    But to me it's delightless--my Nannie's awa!
+
+II.
+
+    The snaw-drap and primrose our woodlands adorn,
+    And violets bathe in the weet o' the morn;
+    They pain my sad bosom, sae sweetly they blaw,
+    They mind me o' Nannie--and Nanny's awa!
+
+III.
+
+    Thou lav'rock that springs frae the dews of the lawn,
+    The shepherd to warn o' the gray-breaking dawn,
+    And thou mellow mavis that hails the night fa',
+    Give over for pity--my Nannie's awa!
+
+IV.
+
+    Come autumn sae pensive, in yellow and gray,
+    And soothe me with tidings o' nature's decay:
+    The dark dreary winter, and wild driving snaw,
+    Alane can delight me--now Nannie's awa!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXXXIX.
+
+O WHA IS SHE THAT LOVES ME.
+
+Tune--"_Morag._"
+
+["This song," says Sir Harris Nicolas, "is said, in Thomson's
+collection, to have been written for that work by Burns: but it is not
+included in Mr. Cunningham's edition." If sir Harris would be so good
+as to look at page 245; vol. V., of Cunningham's edition of Burns, he
+will find the song; and if he will look at page 28, and page 193 of
+vol. III., of his own edition, he will find that he has not committed
+the error of which he accuses his fellow-editor, for he has inserted
+the same song twice. The same may be said of the song to Chloris,
+which Sir Harris has printed at page 312, vol. II,. and at page 189,
+vol. III., and of "Ae day a braw wooer came down the lang glen," which
+appears both at page 224 of vol. II., and at page 183 of vol, III.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O wha is she that lo'es me,
+      And has my heart a-keeping?
+    O sweet is she that lo'es me,
+      As dews of simmer weeping,
+      In tears the rosebuds steeping!
+          O that's the lassie of my heart,
+            My lassie ever dearer;
+          O that's the queen of womankind,
+            And ne'er a ane to peer her.
+
+II.
+
+    If thou shalt meet a lassie
+      In grace and beauty charming,
+    That e'en thy chosen lassie,
+      Erewhile thy breast sae warming
+      Had ne'er sic powers alarming.
+
+III.
+
+    If thou hadst heard her talking,
+      And thy attentions plighted,
+    That ilka body talking,
+      But her by thee is slighted,
+      And thou art all delighted.
+
+IV.
+
+    If thou hast met this fair one;
+      When frae her thou hast parted,
+    If every other fair one,
+      But her, thou hast deserted,
+      And thou art broken-hearted;
+          O that's the lassie o' my heart,
+            My lassie ever dearer;
+          O that's the queen o' womankind,
+            And ne'er a ane to peer her.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXL.
+
+CALEDONIA.
+
+Tune--"_Caledonian Hunt's Delight._"
+
+[There is both knowledge of history and elegance of allegory in this
+singular lyric: it was first printed by Currie.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    There was once a day--but old Time then was young--
+      That brave Caledonia, the chief of her line,
+    From some of your northern deities sprung,
+      (Who knows not that brave Caledonia's divine?)
+    From Tweed to the Orcades was her domain,
+      To hunt, or to pasture, or do what she would:
+    Her heav'nly relations there fixed her reign,
+      And pledg'd her their godheads to warrant it good.
+
+II.
+
+    A lambkin in peace, but a lion in war,
+      The pride of her kindred the heroine grew;
+    Her grandsire, old Odin, triumphantly swore
+      "Whoe'er shall provoke thee, th' encounter shall rue!"
+    With tillage or pasture at times she would sport,
+      To feed her fair flocks by her green rustling corn;
+    But chiefly the woods were her fav'rite resort,
+      Her darling amusement, the hounds and the horn.
+
+III.
+
+    Long quiet she reign'd; till thitherward steers
+      A flight of bold eagles from Adria's strand:
+    Repeated, successive, for many long years,
+      They darken'd the air, and they plunder'd the land:
+    Their pounces were murder, and terror their cry,
+      They'd conquer'd and ruin'd a world beside;
+    She took to her hills, and her arrows let fly--
+      The daring invaders they fled or they died.
+
+IV.
+
+    The fell harpy-raven took wing from the north,
+      The scourge of the seas, and the dread of the shore;
+    The wild Scandinavian boar issu'd forth
+      To wanton in carnage, and wallow in gore;
+    O'er countries and kingdoms their fury prevail'd,
+      No arts could appease them, no arms could repel;
+    But brave Caledonia in vain they assail'd,
+      As Largs well can witness, and Loncartie tell.
+
+V.
+
+    The Cameleon-savage disturbed her repose,
+      With tumult, disquiet, rebellion, and strife;
+    Provok'd beyond bearing, at last she arose,
+      And robb'd him at once of his hope and his life:
+    The Anglian lion, the terror of France,
+      Oft prowling, ensanguin'd the Tweed's silver flood:
+    But, taught by the bright Caledonian lance,
+      He learned to fear in his own native wood.
+
+VI.
+
+    Thus bold, independent, unconquer'd, and free,
+      Her bright course of glory for ever shall run:
+    For brave Caledonia immortal must be;
+      I'll prove it from Euclid as clear as the sun:
+    Rectangle-triangle, the figure we'll choose,
+      The upright is Chance, and old Time is the base;
+    But brave Caledonia's the hypothenuse;
+      Then ergo, she'll match them, and match them always.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXLI.
+
+O LAY THY LOOF IN MINE, LASS.
+
+Tune--"_Cordwainer's March._"
+
+[The air to which these verses were written, is commonly played at the
+Saturnalia of the shoemakers on King Crispin's day. Burns sent it to
+the Museum.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O lay thy loof in mine, lass,
+    In mine, lass, in mine, lass;
+    And swear on thy white hand, lass,
+      That thou wilt be my ain.
+    A slave to love's unbounded sway,
+    He aft has wrought me meikle wae;
+    But now he is my deadly fae,
+      Unless thou be my ain.
+
+II.
+
+    There's monie a lass has broke my rest,
+    That for a blink I hae lo'ed best;
+    But thou art queen within my breast,
+      For ever to remain.
+    O lay thy loof in mine, lass,
+    In mine, lass, in mine, lass;
+    And swear on thy white hand, lass,
+      That thou wilt be my ain.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXLII.
+
+THE FETE CHAMPETRE.
+
+Tune--"_Killiecrankie._"
+
+[Written to introduce the name of Cunninghame, of Enterkin, to the
+public. Tents were erected on the banks of Ayr, decorated with shrubs,
+and strewn with flowers, most of the names of note in the district
+were invited, and a splendid entertainment took place; but no
+dissolution of parliament followed as was expected, and the Lord of
+Enterkin, who was desirous of a seat among the "Commons," poured out
+his wine in vain.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O wha will to Saint Stephen's house,
+      To do our errands there, man?
+    O wha will to Saint Stephen's house,
+      O' th' merry lads of Ayr, man?
+    Or will we send a man-o'-law?
+      Or will we send a sodger?
+    Or him wha led o'er Scotland a'
+      The meikle Ursa-Major?
+
+II.
+
+    Come, will ye court a noble lord,
+      Or buy a score o' lairds, man?
+    For worth and honour pawn their word,
+      Their vote shall be Glencaird's, man?
+    Ane gies them coin, ane gies them wine,
+      Anither gies them clatter;
+    Anbank, wha guess'd the ladies' taste,
+      He gies a Fete Champetre.
+
+III.
+
+    When Love and Beauty heard the news,
+      The gay green-woods amang, man;
+    Where gathering flowers and busking bowers,
+      They heard the blackbird's sang, man;
+    A vow, they seal'd it with a kiss,
+      Sir Politicks to fetter,
+    As theirs alone, the patent-bliss
+      To hold a Fete Champetre.
+
+IV.
+
+    Then mounted Mirth, on gleesome wing,
+      O'er hill and dale she flew, man;
+    Ilk wimpling burn, ilk crystal spring,
+      Ilk glen and shaw she knew, man:
+    She summon'd every social sprite
+      That sports by wood or water,
+    On th' bonny banks of Ayr to meet,
+      And keep this Fete Champetre.
+
+V.
+
+    Cauld Boreas, wi' his boisterous crew,
+      Were bound to stakes like kye, man;
+    And Cynthia's car, o' silver fu',
+      Clamb up the starry sky, man:
+    Reflected beams dwell in the streams,
+      Or down the current shatter;
+    The western breeze steals thro' the trees,
+      To view this Fete Champetre.
+
+VI.
+
+    How many a robe sae gaily floats!
+      What sparkling jewels glance, man!
+    To Harmony's enchanting notes,
+      As moves the mazy dance, man.
+    The echoing wood, the winding flood,
+      Like Paradise did glitter,
+    When angels met, at Adam's yett,
+      To hold their Fete Champetre.
+
+VII.
+
+    When Politics came there, to mix
+      And make his ether-stane, man!
+    He circled round the magic ground,
+      But entrance found he nane, man:
+    He blush'd for shame, he quat his name,
+      Forswore it, every letter,
+    Wi' humble prayer to join and share
+      This festive Fete Champetre.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXLIII.
+
+HERE'S A HEALTH.
+
+Tune--"_Here's a health to them that's awa._"
+
+[The Charlie of this song was Charles Fox; Tammie was Lord Erskine;
+and M'Leod, the maiden name of the Countess of Loudon, was then, as
+now, a name of influence both in the Highlands and Lowlands. The buff
+and blue of the Whigs had triumphed over the white rose of Jacobitism
+in the heart of Burns, when he wrote these verses.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Here's a health to them that's awa,
+    Here's a health to them that's awa;
+    And wha winna wish guid luck to our cause,
+    May never guid luck be their fa'!
+    It's guid to be merry and wise,
+    It's guid to be honest and true,
+    It's good to support Caldonia's cause,
+    And bide by the buff and the blue.
+
+II.
+
+    Here's a health to them that's awa,
+    Here's a health to them that's awa,
+    Here's a health to Charlie the chief of the clan,
+    Altho' that his band be sma'.
+    May liberty meet wi' success!
+    May prudence protect her frae evil!
+    May tyrants and tyranny tine in the mist,
+    And wander their way to the devil!
+
+III.
+
+    Here's a health to them that's awa,
+    Here's a health to them that's awa;
+    Here's a health to Tammie, the Norland laddie,
+    That lives at the lug o' the law!
+    Here's freedom to him that wad read,
+    Here's freedom to him that wad write!
+    There's nane ever fear'd that the truth should be heard,
+    But they wham the truth wad indite.
+
+IV.
+
+    Here's a health to them that's awa,
+    Here's a health to them that's awa,
+    Here's Chieftain M'Leod, a chieftain worth gowd,
+    Tho' bred amang mountains o' snaw!
+    Here's a health to them that's awa,
+    Here's a health to them that's awa;
+    And wha winna wish guid luck to our cause,
+    May never guid luck be their fa'!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXLIV.
+
+IS THERE, FOR HONEST POVERTY.
+
+Tune--"_For a' that, and a' that._"
+
+[In this noble lyric Burns has vindicated the natural right of his
+species. He modestly says to Thomson, "I do not give you this song for
+your book, but merely by way of _vive la bagatelle_; for the piece is
+really not poetry, but will be allowed to be two or three pretty good
+prose thoughts inverted into rhyme." Thomson took the song, but
+hazarded no praise.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Is there, for honest poverty,
+      That hangs his head, and a' that?
+    The coward-slave, we pass him by,
+      We dare be poor for a' that!
+    For a' that, and a' that,
+      Our toils obscure, and a' that;
+    The rank is but the guinea's stamp,
+      The man's the gowd for a' that!
+
+II.
+
+    What tho' on hamely fare we dine,
+      Wear hoddin gray, and a' that;
+    Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine,
+      A man's a man, for a' that!
+    For a' that, and a' that,
+      Their tinsel show, and a' that;
+    The honest man, though e'er sae poor,
+      Is king o' men for a' that!
+
+III.
+
+    Ye see yon birkie, ca'd--a lord,
+      Wha struts, and stares, and a' that;
+    Though hundreds worship at his word,
+      He's but a coof for a' that:
+    For a' that, and a' that,
+      His riband, star, and a' that,
+    The man of independent mind,
+      He looks and laughs at a' that.
+
+IV.
+
+    A king can make a belted knight,
+      A marquis, duke, and a' that,
+    But an honest man's aboon his might,
+      Guid faith, he maunna fa' that!
+    For a' that, and a' that,
+      Their dignities, and a' that,
+    The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth,
+      Are higher ranks than a' that.
+
+V.
+
+    Then let us pray that come it may--
+      As come it will for a' that--
+    That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth,
+      May bear the gree, and a' that;
+    For a' that, and a' that,
+      It's comin' yet for a' that,
+    That man to man, the warld o'er,
+      Shall brothers be for a' that!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXLV.
+
+CRAIGIE-BURN WOOD.
+
+[Craigie-burn Wood was written for George Thomson: the heroine was
+Jean Lorimer. How often the blooming looks and elegant forms of very
+indifferent characters lend a lasting lustre to painting and poetry.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Sweet fa's the eve on Craigie-burn,
+      And blithe awakes the morrow;
+    But a' the pride o' spring's return
+      Can yield me nocht but sorrow.
+
+II.
+
+    I see the flowers and spreading trees
+      I hear the wild birds singing;
+    But what a weary wight can please,
+      And care his bosom wringing?
+
+III.
+
+    Fain, fain would I my griefs impart,
+      Yet dare na for your anger;
+    But secret love will break my heart,
+      If I conceal it langer.
+
+IV.
+
+    If thou refuse to pity me,
+      If thou shall love anither,
+    When yon green leaves fade frae the tree,
+      Around my grave they'll wither.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXLVI.
+
+O LASSIE, ART THOU SLEEPING YET.
+
+Tune--"_Let me in this ae night._"
+
+[The thoughts of Burns, it is said, wandered to the fair Mrs. Riddel,
+of Woodleigh Park, while he composed this song for Thomson. The idea
+is taken from an old lyric, of more spirit than decorum.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O Lassie, art thou sleeping yet,
+    Or art thou waking, I would wit?
+    For love has bound me hand and foot,
+      And I would fain be in, jo.
+        O let me in this ae night,
+          This ae, ae, ae night;
+        For pity's sake this ae night,
+          O rise and let me in, jo!
+
+II.
+
+    Thou hear'st the winter wind and weet!
+    Nae star blinks thro' the driving sleet:
+    Tak pity on my weary feet,
+      And shield me frae the rain, jo.
+
+III.
+
+    The bitter blast that round me blaws,
+    Unheeded howls, unheeded fa's;
+    The cauldness o' thy heart's the cause
+      Of a' my grief and pain, jo.
+        O let me in this ae night,
+          This ae, ae, ae night;
+        For pity's sake this ae night,
+          O rise and let me in, jo!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXLVII.
+
+O TELL NA ME O' WIND AND RAIN.
+
+[The poet's thoughts, as rendered in the lady's answer, are, at all
+events, not borrowed from the sentiments expressed by Mrs. Riddel,
+alluded to in song CCXXXVII.; there she is tender and forgiving: here
+she in stern and cold.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O tell na me o' wind and rain,
+    Upbraid na me wi' cauld disdain!
+    Gae back the gate ye cam again,
+      I winna let you in, jo.
+        I tell you now this ae night,
+          This ae, ae, ae night,
+        And ance for a' this ae night,
+          I winna let you in, jo!
+
+II.
+
+    The snellest blast, at mirkest hours,
+    That round the pathless wand'rer pours,
+    Is nocht to what poor she endures,
+      That's trusted faithless man, jo.
+
+III.
+
+    The sweetest flower that deck'd the mead,
+    Now trodden like the vilest weed:
+    Let simple maid the lesson read,
+      The weird may be her ain, jo.
+
+IV.
+
+    The bird that charm'd his summer-day,
+    Is now the cruel fowler's prey;
+    Let witless, trusting woman say
+      How aft her fate's the same, jo.
+        I tell you now this ae night,
+          This ae, ae, ae night;
+        And ance for a' this ae night,
+          I winna let you in jo!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXLVIII.
+
+THE DUMFRIES VOLUNTEERS.
+
+Tune--"_Push about the jorum._"
+
+[This national song was composed in April, 1795. The poet had been at
+a public meeting, where he was less joyous than usual: as something
+had been expected from him, he made these verses, when he went home,
+and sent them, with his compliments, to Mr. Jackson, editor of the
+Dumfries Journal. The original, through the kindness of my friend,
+James Milligan, Esq., is now before me.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Does haughty Gaul invasion threat,
+      Then let the loons beware, Sir,
+    There's wooden walls upon our seas,
+      And volunteers on shore, Sir.
+    The Nith shall run to Corsincon,
+      And Criffel sink in Solway,
+    Ere we permit a foreign foe
+      On British ground to rally!
+
+II.
+
+    O let us not, like snarling tykes,
+      In wrangling be divided;
+    Till slap come in an unco loon
+      And wi' a rung decide it.
+    Be Britain still to Britain true,
+      Amang oursels united;
+    For never but by British hands
+      Maun British wrangs be righted!
+
+III.
+
+    The kettle o' the kirk and state,
+      Perhaps a clout may fail in't;
+    But deil a foreign tinkler loon
+      Shall ever ca' a nail in't.
+    Our fathers' bluid the kettle bought,
+      And wha wad dare to spoil it;
+    By heaven! the sacrilegious dog
+      Shall fuel be to boil it.
+
+IV.
+
+    The wretch that wad a tyrant own,
+      And the wretch his true-born brother,
+    Who would set the mob aboon the throne,
+      May they be damned together!
+    Who will not sing, "God save the King,"
+      Shall hang as high's the steeple;
+    But while we sing, "God save the King,"
+      We'll ne'er forget the people.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXLIX.
+
+ADDRESS TO THE WOOD-LARK.
+
+Tune--"_Where'll bonnie Ann lie._"
+
+[The old song to the same air is yet remembered: but the humour is
+richer than the delicacy; the same may be said of many of the fine
+hearty lyrics of the elder days of Caledonia. These verses were
+composed in May, 1795, for Thomson.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O stay, sweet warbling woodlark, stay!
+    Nor quit for me the trembling spray;
+    A hapless lover courts thy lay,
+      Thy soothing fond complaining.
+
+II.
+
+    Again, again that tender part,
+      That I may catch thy melting art;
+    For surely that would touch her heart,
+      Wha kills me wi' disdaining.
+
+III.
+
+    Say, was thy little mate unkind,
+    And heard thee as the careless wind?
+    Oh, nocht but love and sorrow join'd,
+      Sic notes o' woe could wauken.
+
+IV.
+
+    Thou tells o' never-ending care;
+    O' speechless grief and dark despair:
+    For pity's sake, sweet bird, nae mair!
+      Or my poor heart is broken!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCL.
+
+ON CHLORIS BEING ILL.
+
+Tune--"_Ay wakin', O._"
+
+[An old and once popular lyric suggested this brief and happy song for
+Thomson: some of the verses deserve to be held in remembrance.
+
+    Ay waking, oh,
+      Waking ay and weary;
+    Sleep I canna get
+      For thinking o' my dearie.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Long, long the night,
+      Heavy comes the morrow,
+    While my soul's delight
+      Is on her bed of sorrow.
+
+    Can I cease to care?
+      Can I cease to languish?
+    While my darling fair
+      Is on the couch of anguish?
+
+II.
+
+    Every hope is fled,
+      Every fear is terror;
+    Slumber even I dread,
+      Every dream is horror.
+
+III.
+
+    Hear me, Pow'rs divine!
+      Oh, in pity hear me!
+    Take aught else of mine,
+      But my Chloris spare me!
+        Long, long the night,
+          Heavy comes the morrow,
+        While my soul's delight
+          Is on her bed of sorrow.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLI.
+
+CALEDONIA.
+
+Tune--"_Humours of Glen._"
+
+[Love of country often mingles in the lyric strains of Burns with his
+personal attachments, and in few more beautifully than in the
+following, written for Thomson the heroine was Mrs. Burns.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Their groves o' sweet myrtle let foreign lands reckon,
+      Where bright-beaming summers exalt the perfume;
+    Far dearer to me yon lone glen o' green brockan,
+      Wi' the burn stealing under the lang yellow broom:
+    Far dearer to me are yon humble broom bowers,
+      Where the blue-bell and gowan lurk lowly unseen;
+    For there, lightly tripping amang the wild flowers,
+      A listening the linnet, aft wanders my Jean.
+
+II.
+
+    Tho' rich is the breeze in their gay sunny valleys,
+      And cauld CALEDONIA'S blast on the wave;
+    Their sweet-scented woodlands that skirt the proud palace,
+      What are they?--The haunt of the tyrant and slave!
+    The slave's spicy forests, and gold-bubbling fountains,
+      The brave Caledonian views wi' disdain;
+    He wanders as free as the winds of his mountains,
+      Save love's willing fetters, the chains o' his Jean.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLII.
+
+'TWAS NA HER BONNIE BLUE EEN.
+
+Tune--"_Laddie, lie near me._"
+
+[Though the lady who inspired these verses is called Mary by the poet,
+such, says tradition, was not her name: yet tradition, even in this,
+wavers, when it avers one while that Mrs. Riddel, and at another time
+that Jean Lorimer was the heroine.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    'Twas na her bonnie blue een was my ruin;
+    Fair tho' she be, that was ne'er my undoing:
+    'Twas the dear smile when naebody did mind us,
+    'Twas the bewitching, sweet stown glance o' kindness.
+
+II.
+
+    Sair do I fear that to hope is denied me,
+    Sair do I fear that despair maun abide me!
+    But tho' fell fortune should fate us to sever,
+    Queen shall she be in my bosom for ever.
+
+III.
+
+    Mary, I'm thine wi' a passion sincerest,
+    And thou hast plighted me love o' the dearest!
+    And thou'rt the angel that never can alter--
+    Sooner the sun in his motion would falter.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLIII.
+
+HOW CRUEL ARE THE PARENTS.
+
+Tune--"_John Anderson, my jo._"
+
+["I am at this moment," says Burns to Thomson, when he sent him this
+song, "holding high converse with the Muses, and have not a word to
+throw away on a prosaic dog, such as you are." Yet there is less than
+the poet's usual inspiration in this lyric, for it is altered from an
+English one.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    How cruel are the parents
+      Who riches only prize,
+    And, to the wealthy booby,
+      Poor woman sacrifice!
+    Meanwhile the hapless daughter
+      Has but a choice of strife;
+    To shun a tyrant father's hate,
+      Become a wretched wife.
+
+II.
+
+    The ravening hawk pursuing,
+      The trembling dove thus flies,
+    To shun impelling ruin
+      Awhile her pinions tries:
+    Till of escape despairing,
+      No shelter or retreat,
+    She trusts the ruthless falconer,
+      And drops beneath his feet!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLIV.
+
+MARK YONDER POMP.
+
+Tune--"_Deil tak the wars._"
+
+[Burns tells Thomson, in the letter enclosing this song, that he is in
+a high fit of poetizing, provided he is not cured by the
+strait-waistcoat of criticism. "You see," said he, "how I answer your
+orders; your tailor could not be more punctual." This strain in honour
+of Chloris is original in conception, but wants the fine lyrical flow
+of some of his other compositions.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Mark yonder pomp of costly fashion
+      Round the wealthy, titled bride:
+    But when compar'd with real passion,
+      Poor is all that princely pride.
+        What are the showy treasures?
+        What are the noisy pleasures?
+    The gay gaudy glare of vanity and art:
+        The polish'd jewel's blaze
+        May draw the wond'ring gaze,
+        And courtly grandeur bright
+        The fancy may delight,
+    But never, never can come near the heart.
+
+II.
+
+    But did you see my dearest Chloris
+      In simplicity's array;
+    Lovely as yonder sweet opening flower is,
+      Shrinking from the gaze of day;
+        O then the heart alarming,
+        And all resistless charming,
+    In Love's delightful fetters she chains the willing soul!
+        Ambition would disown
+        The world's imperial crown,
+        Even Avarice would deny
+        His worship'd deity,
+    And feel thro' every vein Love's raptures roll.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLV.
+
+THIS IS NO MY AIN LASSIE.
+
+Tune--"_This is no my ain house._"
+
+[Though composed to the order of Thomson, and therefore less likely to
+be the offspring of unsolicited inspiration, this is one of the
+happiest modern songs. When the poet wrote it, he seems to have been
+beside the "fair dame at whose shrine," he said, "I, the priest of the
+Nine, offer up the incense of Parnassus."]
+
+
+I.
+
+        O this is no my ain lassie,
+          Fair tho' the lassie be;
+        O weel ken I my ain lassie,
+          Kind love is in her e'e.
+    I see a form, I see a face,
+    Ye weel may wi' the fairest place:
+    It wants, to me, the witching grace,
+      The kind love that's in her e'e.
+
+II.
+
+    She's bonnie, blooming, straight, and tall,
+    And lang has had my heart in thrall;
+    And ay it charms my very saul,
+      The kind love that's in her e'e.
+
+III.
+
+    A thief sae pawkie is my Jean,
+    To steal a blink, by a' unseen;
+    But gleg as light are lovers' een,
+      When kind love is in the e'e.
+
+IV.
+
+    It may escape the courtly sparks,
+    It may escape the learned clerks;
+    But weel the watching lover marks
+      The kind love that's in her e'e.
+        O this is no my ain lassie,
+          Fair tho' the lassie be;
+        O weel ken I my ain lassie,
+          Kind love is in her e'e.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLVI.
+
+NOW SPRING HAS CLAD THE
+
+GROVE IN GREEN.
+
+TO MR. CUNNINGHAM.
+
+[Composed in reference to a love disappointment of the poet's friend,
+Alexander Cunningham, which also occasioned the song beginning,
+
+    "Had I a cave on some wild distant shore."]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Now spring has clad the grove in green,
+      And strew'd the lea wi' flowers:
+    The furrow'd waving corn is seen
+      Rejoice in fostering showers;
+    While ilka thing in nature join
+      Their sorrows to forego,
+    O why thus all alone are mine
+      The weary steps of woe?
+
+II.
+
+    The trout within yon wimpling burn
+      Glides swift, a silver dart,
+    And safe beneath the shady thorn
+      Defies the angler's art:
+    My life was ance that careless stream,
+      That wanton trout was I;
+    But love, wi' unrelenting beam,
+      Has scorch'd my fountains dry.
+
+III.
+
+    The little flow'ret's peaceful lot,
+      In yonder cliff that grows,
+    Which, save the linnet's flight, I wot,
+      Nae ruder visit knows,
+    Was mine; till love has o'er me past,
+      And blighted a' my bloom,
+    And now beneath the with'ring blast
+      My youth and joy consume.
+
+IV.
+
+    The waken'd lav'rock warbling springs
+      And climbs the early sky,
+    Winnowing blythe her dewy wings
+      In morning's rosy eye;
+    As little reckt I sorrow's power,
+      Until the flow'ry snare
+    O' witching love, in luckless hour,
+      Made me the thrall o' care.
+
+V.
+
+    O had my fate been Greenland snows,
+      Or Afric's burning zone,
+    Wi' man and nature leagu'd my foes,
+      So Peggy ne'er I'd known!
+    The wretch whase doom is, "hope nae mair."
+      What tongue his woes can tell!
+    Within whase bosom, save despair,
+      Nae kinder spirits dwell.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLVII.
+
+O BONNIE WAS YON ROSY BRIER.
+
+[To Jean Lorimer, the heroine of this song, Burns presented a copy of
+the last edition of his poems, that of 1793, with a dedicatory
+inscription, in which he moralizes upon her youth, her beauty, and
+steadfast friendship, and signs himself Coila.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O Bonnie was yon rosy brier,
+      That blooms sae far frae haunt o' man,
+    And bonnie she, and ah, how dear!
+      It shaded frae the e'enin sun.
+
+II.
+
+    Yon rosebuds in the morning dew
+      How pure, amang the leaves sae green:
+    But purer was the lover's vow
+      They witness'd in their shade yestreen.
+
+III.
+
+    All in its rude and prickly bower,
+      That crimson rose, how sweet and fair!
+    But love is far a sweeter flower
+      Amid life's thorny path o' care.
+
+IV.
+
+    The pathless wild, and wimpling burn,
+      Wi' Chloris in my arms, be mine;
+    And I the world, nor wish, nor scorn,
+      Its joys and griefs alike resign.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLVIII.
+
+FORLORN, MY LOVE, NO COMFORT
+
+NEAR.
+
+Tune--"_Let me in this ae night._"
+
+["How do you like the foregoing?" Burns asks Thomson, after having
+copies this song for his collection. "I have written it within this
+hour: so much for the speed of my Pegasus: but what say you to his
+bottom?"]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Forlorn, my love, no comfort near,
+    Far, far from thee, I wander here;
+    Far, far from thee, the fate severe
+      At which I most repine, love.
+        O wert thou, love, but near me;
+        But near, near, near me;
+        How kindly thou wouldst cheer me,
+          And mingle sighs with mine, love
+
+II.
+
+    Around me scowls a wintry sky,
+    That blasts each bud of hope and joy;
+    And shelter, shade, nor home have I,
+      Save in those arms of thine, love.
+
+III.
+
+    Cold, alter'd friendship's cruel part,
+    To poison Fortune's ruthless dart,
+    Let me not break thy faithful heart,
+      And say that fate is mine, love.
+
+IV.
+
+    But dreary tho' the moments fleet,
+    O let me think we yet shall meet!
+    That only ray of solace sweet
+      Can on thy Chloris shine, love.
+        O wert thou, love, but near me;
+        But near, near, near me;
+        How kindly thou wouldst cheer me,
+          And mingle sighs with mine, love.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLIX.
+
+LAST MAY A BRAW WOOER.
+
+Tune--"_The Lothian Lassie._"
+
+["Gateslack," says Burns to Thomson, "is the name of a particular
+place, a kind of passage among the Lowther Hills, on the confines of
+Dumfrieshire: Dalgarnock, is also the name of a romantic spot near the
+Nith, where are still a ruined church and burial-ground." To this, it
+may be added that Dalgarnock kirk-yard is the scene where the author
+of Waverley finds Old Mortality repairing the Cameronian
+grave-stones.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Last May a braw wooer cam down the lang glen,
+      And sair wi' his love he did deave me;
+    I said there was naething I hated like men,
+      The deuce gae wi'm, to believe, believe me,
+      The deuce gae wi'm, to believe me!
+
+II.
+
+    He spak o' the darts in my bonnie black een,
+      And vow'd for my love, he was dying;
+    I said he might die when he liked for Jean,
+      The Lord forgie me for lying, for lying,
+      The Lord forgie me for lying!
+
+III.
+
+    A weel-stocked mailen--himsel' for the laird--
+      And marriage aff-hand, were his proffers:
+    I never loot on that I kenn'd it, or car'd,
+      But thought I may hae waur offers, waur offers,
+      But thought I might hae waur offers.
+
+IV.
+
+    But what wad ye think? In a fortnight or less--
+      The deil tak his taste to gae near her!
+    He up the Gateslack to my black cousin Bess,
+      Guess ye how, the jad! I could bear her, could bear her,
+      Guess ye how, the jad! I could bear her.
+
+V.
+
+    But a' the niest week as I fretted wi' care,
+      I gaed to the tryste o' Dalgarnock,
+    And wha but my fine fickle lover was there!
+      I glowr'd as I'd seen a warlock, a warlock,
+      I glowr'd as I'd seen a warlock.
+
+VI.
+
+    But owre my left shouther I gae him a blink,
+      Lest neebors might say I was saucy;
+    My wooer he caper'd as he'd been in drink,
+      And vow'd I was his dear lassie, dear lassie,
+      And vow'd I was his dear lassie.
+
+VII.
+
+    I spier'd for my cousin fu' couthy and sweet,
+      Gin she had recovered her hearin',
+    And how my auld shoon suited her shauchled feet,
+      But, heavens! how he fell a swearin', a swearin',
+      But, heavens! how he fell a swearin'.
+
+VIII.
+
+    He begged, for Gudesake, I wad be his wife,
+      Or else I wad kill him wi' sorrow;
+    So, e'en to preserve the poor body in life,
+      I think I maun wed him to-morrow, to-morrow,
+      I think I maun wed him to morrow.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLX.
+
+CHLORIS.
+
+Tune--"_Caledonian Hunt's Delight._"
+
+["I am at present," says Burns to Thomson, when he communicated these
+verses, "quite occupied with the charming sensations of the toothache,
+so have not a word to spare--such is the peculiarity of the rhythm of
+this air, that I find it impossible to make another stanza to suit
+it." This is the last of his strains in honour of Chloris.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Why, why tell thy lover,
+      Bliss he never must enjoy:
+    Why, why undeceive him,
+      And give all his hopes the lie?
+
+II.
+
+    O why, while fancy raptured, slumbers,
+      Chloris, Chloris all the theme,
+    Why, why wouldst thou, cruel,
+      Wake thy lover from his dream?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLXI.
+
+THE HIGHLAND WIDOW'S LAMENT.
+
+[This song is said to be Burns's version of a Gaelic lament for the
+ruin which followed the rebellion of the year 1745: he sent it to the
+Museum.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Oh! I am come to the low countrie,
+      Och-on, och-on, och-rie!
+    Without a penny in my purse,
+      To buy a meal to me.
+
+II.
+
+    It was na sae in the Highland hills,
+      Och-on, och-on, och-rie!
+    Nae woman in the country wide
+      Sae happy was as me.
+
+III.
+
+    For then I had a score o' kye,
+      Och-on, och-on, och-rie!
+    Feeding on yon hills so high,
+      And giving milk to me.
+
+IV.
+
+    And there I had three score o' yowes,
+      Och-on, och-on, och-rie!
+    Skipping on yon bonnie knowes,
+      And casting woo' to me.
+
+V.
+
+    I was the happiest of a' the clan,
+      Sair, sair, may I repine;
+    For Donald was the brawest lad,
+      And Donald he was mine.
+
+VI.
+
+    Till Charlie Stewart cam' at last,
+      Sae far to set us free;
+    My Donald's arm was wanted then,
+      For Scotland and for me.
+
+VII.
+
+    Their waefu' fate what need I tell,
+      Right to the wrang did yield:
+    My Donald and his country fell
+      Upon Culloden's field.
+
+VIII.
+
+    Oh! I am come to the low countrie,
+      Och-on, och-on, och-rie!
+    Nae woman in the world wide
+      Sae wretched now as me.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLXII.
+
+TO GENERAL DUMOURIER.
+
+PARODY ON ROBIN ADAIR.
+
+[Burns wrote this "Welcome" on the unexpected defection of General
+Dumourier.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    You're welcome to despots, Dumourier;
+    You're welcome to despots, Dumourier;
+        How does Dampiere do?
+        Aye, and Bournonville, too?
+    Why did they not come along with you, Dumourier?
+
+II.
+
+    I will fight France with you, Dumourier;
+    I will fight France with you, Dumourier;
+        I will fight France with you,
+        I will take my chance with you;
+    By my soul I'll dance a dance with you, Dumourier.
+
+III.
+
+    Then let us fight about, Dumourier;
+    Then let us fight about, Dumourier;
+        Then let us fight about,
+        Till freedom's spark is out,
+    Then we'll be damn'd, no doubt, Dumourier.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLXIII.
+
+PEG-A-RAMSEY.
+
+Tune--"_Cauld is the e'enin blast._"
+
+[Most of this song is old: Burns gave it a brushing for the Museum.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Cauld is the e'enin' blast
+      O' Boreas o'er the pool,
+    And dawin' it is dreary
+      When birks are bare at Yule.
+
+II.
+
+    O bitter blaws the e'enin' blast
+      When bitter bites the frost,
+    And in the mirk and dreary drift
+      The hills and glens are lost.
+
+III.
+
+    Ne'er sae murky blew the night
+      That drifted o'er the hill,
+    But a bonnie Peg-a-Ramsey
+      Gat grist to her mill.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLXIV.
+
+THERE WAS A BONNIE LASS.
+
+[A snatch of an old strain, trimmed up a little for the Museum.]
+
+
+I.
+
+      There was a bonnie lass,
+      And a bonnie, bonnie lass,
+    And she lo'ed her bonnie laddie dear;
+      Till war's loud alarms
+      Tore her laddie frae her arms,
+    Wi' mony a sigh and tear.
+
+II.
+
+      Over sea, over shore,
+      Where the cannons loudly roar,
+    He still was a stranger to fear;
+      And nocht could him quell,
+      Or his bosom assail,
+    But the bonnie lass he lo'ed sae dear.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLXV.
+
+O MALLY'S MEEK, MALLY'S SWEET.
+
+[Burns, it is said, composed these verses, on meeting a country girl,
+with her shoes and stockings in her lap, walking homewards from a
+Dumfries fair. He was struck with her beauty, and as beautifully has
+he recorded it. This was his last communication to the Museum.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    O Mally's meek, Mally's sweet,
+      Mally's modest and discreet,
+    Mally's rare, Mally's fair,
+      Mally's every way complete.
+    As I was walking up the street,
+      A barefit maid I chanc'd to meet;
+    But O the road was very hard
+      For that fair maiden's tender feet.
+
+II.
+
+    It were mair meet that those fine feet
+      Were weel lac'd up in silken shoon,
+    And 'twere more fit that she should sit,
+      Within yon chariot gilt aboon.
+
+III.
+
+    Her yellow hair, beyond compare,
+      Comes trinkling down her swan-white neck;
+    And her two eyes, like stars in skies,
+      Would keep a sinking ship frae wreck.
+    O Mally's meek, Mally's sweet,
+      Mally's modest and discreet,
+    Mally's rare, Mally's fair,
+      Mally's every way complete.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLXVI.
+
+HEY FOR A LASS WI' A TOCHER.
+
+Tune--"_Balinamona Ora._"
+
+[Communicated to Thomson, 17th of February, 1796, to be printed as
+part of the poet's contribution to the Irish melodies: he calls it "a
+kind of rhapsody."]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Awa wi' your witchcraft o' beauty's alarms,
+    The slender bit beauty you grasp in your arms:
+    O, gie me the lass that has acres o' charms,
+    O, gie me the lass wi' the weel-stockit farms.
+      Then hey for a lass wi' a tocher,
+      Then hey for a lass wi' a tocher;
+      Then hey for a lass wi' a tocher,
+        The nice yellow guineas for me.
+
+II.
+
+    Your beauty's a flower, in the morning that blows,
+    And withers the faster, the faster it grows;
+    But the rapturous charm o' the bonnie green knowes,
+    Ilk spring they're new deckit wi' bonnie white yowes.
+
+III.
+
+    And e'en when this beauty your bosom has blest,
+    The brightest o' beauty may cloy when possest;
+    But the sweet yellow darlings wi' Geordie imprest,
+    The langer ye hae them--the mair they're carest.
+      Then hey for a lass wi' a tocher,
+      Then hey for a lass wi' a tocher;
+      Then hey for a lass wi' a tocher,
+        The nice yellow guineas for me.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLXVII.
+
+JESSY.
+
+Tune--"_Here's a health to them that's awa._"
+
+[Written in honour of Miss Jessie Lewars, now Mrs. Thomson. Her tender
+and daughter-like attentions soothed the last hours of the dying poet,
+and if immortality can be considered a recompense, she has been
+rewarded.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Here's a health to ane I lo'e dear;
+      Here's a health to ane I lo'e dear;
+    Thou art sweet as the smile when fond lovers meet,
+      And soft as their parting tear--Jessy!
+
+II.
+
+    Altho' thou maun never be mine,
+      Altho' even hope is denied;
+    'Tis sweeter for thee despairing,
+      Then aught in the world beside--Jessy!
+
+III.
+
+    I mourn through the gay, gaudy day,
+      As, hopeless, I muse on thy charms:
+    But welcome the dream o' sweet slumber,
+      For then I am lockt in thy arms--Jessy!
+
+IV.
+
+    I guess by the dear angel smile,
+      I guess by the love rolling e'e;
+    But why urge the tender confession
+      'Gainst fortune's fell cruel decree?--Jessy!
+    Here's a health to ane I lo'e dear;
+      Here's a health to ane I lo'e dear;
+    Thou art sweet as the smile when fond lovers meet,
+      And soft as their parting tear--Jessy!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLXVIII.
+
+FAIREST MAID ON DEVON BANKS.
+
+Tune--"_Rothemurche._"
+
+[On the 12th of July, 1796, as Burns lay dying at Brow, on the Solway,
+his thoughts wandered to early days, and this song, the last he was to
+measure in this world, was dedicated to Charlotte Hamilton, the maid
+of the Devon.]
+
+
+I.
+
+    Fairest maid on Devon banks,
+      Crystal Devon, winding Devon,
+    Wilt thou lay that frown aside,
+      And smile as thou were wont to do?
+    Full well thou know'st I love thee, dear!
+    Could'st thou to malice lend an ear!
+    O! did not love exclaim "Forbear,
+      Nor use a faithful lover so."
+
+II.
+
+    Then come, thou fairest of the fair,
+    Those wonted smiles, O let me share;
+    And by thy beauteous self I swear,
+      No love but thine my heart shall know.
+        Fairest maid on Devon banks,
+          Crystal Devon, winding Devon,
+        Wilt thou lay that frown aside,
+          And smile as thou were wont to do?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+GENERAL CORRESPONDENCE.
+
+
+I.
+
+
+TO WILLIAM BURNESS.
+
+[This was written by Burns in his twenty-third year, when learning
+flax-dressing in Irvine, and is the earliest of his letters which has
+reached us. It has much of the scriptural deference to paternal
+authority, and more of the Complete Letter Writer than we look for in
+an original mind.]
+
+_Irvine, Dec. 27, 1781._
+
+HONOURED SIR,
+
+I have purposely delayed writing in the hope that I should have the
+pleasure of seeing you on New-Year's day; but work comes so hard upon
+us, that I do not choose to be absent on that account, as well as for
+some other little reasons which I shall tell you at meeting. My health
+is nearly the same as when you were here, only my sleep is a little
+sounder, and on the whole I am rather better than otherwise, though I
+mend by very slow degrees. The weakness of my nerves has so
+debilitated my mind, that I dare neither review past wants, nor look
+forward into futurity; for the least anxiety or perturbation in my
+breast produces most unhappy effects on my whole frame. Sometimes,
+indeed, when for an hour or two my spirits are alightened, I glimmer a
+little into futurity; but my principal, and indeed my only pleasurable
+employment is looking backwards and forwards in a moral and religious
+way; I am quite transported at the thought, that ere long, perhaps
+very soon, I shall bid an eternal adieu to all the pains, and
+uneasiness, and disquietudes of this weary life: for I assure you I am
+heartily tired of it; and if I do not very much deceive myself, I
+could contentedly and gladly resign it.
+
+    "The soul, uneasy, and confined at home,
+    Rests and expatiates in a life to come."[141]
+
+It is for this reason I am more pleased with the 15th, 16th, and 17th
+verses of the 7th chapter of Revelations, than with any ten times as
+many verses in the whole Bible, and would not exchange the noble
+enthusiasm with which they inspire me for all that this world has to
+offer. As for this world, I despair of ever making a figure in it. I
+am not formed for the bustle of the busy, nor the flutter of the gay.
+I shall never again be capable of entering into such scenes. Indeed I
+am altogether unconcerned at the thoughts of this life. I foresee that
+poverty and obscurity probably await me, and I am in some measure
+prepared, and daily preparing to meet them. I have but just time and
+paper to return you my grateful thanks for the lessons of virtue and
+piety you have given me, which were too much neglected at the time of
+giving them, but which I hope have been remembered ere it is yet too
+late. Present my dutiful respects to my mother, and my compliments to
+Mr. and Mrs. Muir; and with wishing you a merry New-Year's day, I
+shall conclude. I am, honoured sir, your dutiful son,
+
+ROBERT BURNESS.
+
+P.S. My meal is nearly out, but I am going to borrow till I get more.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 141: Pope. _Essay on Man_]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+II.
+
+
+TO MR. JOHN MURDOCH,
+
+SCHOOLMASTER,
+
+STABLES-INN BUILDINGS, LONDON.
+
+[John Murdoch, one of the poet's early teachers, removed from the west
+of Scotland to London, where he lived to a good old age, and loved to
+talk of the pious William Burness and his eminent son.]
+
+_Lochlea, 15th January, 1783._
+
+DEAR SIR,
+
+As I have an opportunity of sending you a letter without putting you
+to that expense which any production of mine would but ill repay, I
+embrace it with pleasure, to tell you that I have not forgotten, nor
+ever will forget, the many obligations I lie under to your kindness
+and friendship.
+
+I do not doubt, Sir, but you will wish to know what has been the
+result of all the pains of an indulgent father, and a masterly
+teacher; and I wish I could gratify your curiosity with such a recital
+as you would be pleased with; but that is what I am afraid will not be
+the case. I have, indeed, kept pretty clear of vicious habits; and, in
+this respect, I hope, my conduct will not disgrace the education I
+have gotten; but, as a man of the world, I am most miserably
+deficient. One would have thought that, bred as I have been, under a
+father, who has figured pretty well as _un homme des affaires_, I
+might have been, what the world calls, a pushing, active fellow; but
+to tell you the truth, Sir, there is hardly anything more my reverse.
+I seem to be one sent into the world to see and observe; and I very
+easily compound with the knave who tricks me of my money, if there be
+anything original about him, which shows me human nature in a
+different light from anything I have seen before. In short, the joy of
+my heart is to "study men, their manners, and their ways;" and for
+this darling subject, I cheerfully sacrifice every other
+consideration. I am quite indolent about those great concerns that set
+the bustling, busy sons of care agog; and if I have to answer for the
+present hour, I am very easy with regard to anything further. Even the
+last, worst shift of the unfortunate and the wretched, does not much
+terrify me: I know that even then, my talent for what country folks
+call a "sensible crack," when once it is sanctified by a hoary head,
+would procure me so much esteem, that even then--I would learn to be
+happy.[142] However, I am under no apprehensions about that; for though
+indolent, yet so far as an extremely delicate constitution permits, I
+am not lazy; and in many things, expecially in tavern matters, I am a
+strict economist; not, indeed, for the sake of the money; but one of
+the principal parts in my composition is a kind of pride of stomach;
+and I scorn to fear the face of any man living: above everything, I
+abhor as hell, the idea of sneaking in a corner to avoid a
+dun--possibly some pitiful, sordid wretch, who in my heart I despise
+and detest. 'Tis this, and this alone, that endears economy to me. In
+the matter of books, indeed, I am very profuse. My favourite authors
+are of the sentimental kind, such as Shenstone, particularly his
+"Elegies;" Thomson; "Man of Feeling"--a book I prize next to the
+Bible; "Man of the World;" Sterne, especially his "Sentimental
+Journey;" Macpherson's "Ossian," &c.; these are the glorious models
+after which I endeavour to form my conduct, and 'tis incongruous, 'tis
+absurd to suppose that the man whose mind glows with sentiments
+lighted up at their sacred flame--the man whose heart distends with
+benevolence to all the human race--he "who can soar above this little
+scene of things"--can he descend to mind the paltry concerns about
+which the terraefilial race fret, and fume, and vex themselves! O how
+the glorious triumph swells my heart! I forget that I am a poor,
+insignificant devil, unnoticed and unknown, stalking up and down fairs
+and markets, when I happen to be in them, reading a page or two of
+mankind, and "catching the manners living as they rise," whilst the
+men of business jostle me on every side, as an idle encumbrance in
+their way.--But I dare say I have by this time tired your patience; so
+I shall conclude with begging you to give Mrs. Murdoch--not my
+compliments, for that is a mere common-place story; but my warmest,
+kindest wishes for her welfare; and accept of the same for yourself,
+from,
+
+Dear Sir, yours.--R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 142: The last shift alluded to here must be the condition of
+an itinerant beggar.--CURRIE]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+III.
+
+
+TO MR. JAMES BURNESS,
+
+WRITER, MONTROSE.[143]
+
+[James Burness, son of the poet's uncle, lives at Montrose, and, as
+may be surmised, is now very old: fame has come to his house through
+his eminent cousin Robert, and dearer still through his own grandson,
+Sir Alexander Burnes, with whose talents and intrepidity the world is
+well acquainted.]
+
+_Lochlea_, 21_st June_, 1783.
+
+DEAR SIR,
+
+My father received your favour of the 10th current, and as he has been
+for some months very poorly in health, and is in his own opinion (and
+indeed, in almost everybody's else) in a dying condition, he has only,
+with great difficulty, written a few farewell lines to each of his
+brothers-in-law. For this melancholy reason, I now hold the pen for
+him to thank you for your kind letter, and to assure you, Sir, that it
+shall not be my fault if my father's correspondence in the north die
+with him. My brother writes to John Caird, and to him I must refer you
+for the news of our family.
+
+I shall only trouble you with a few particulars relative to the
+wretched state of this country. Our markets are exceedingly high;
+oatmeal 17d. and 18d. per peck, and not to be gotten even at that
+price. We have indeed been pretty well supplied with quantities of
+white peas from England and elsewhere, but that resource is likely to
+fail us, and what will become of us then, particularly the very
+poorest sort, Heaven only knows. This country, till of late, was
+flourishing incredibly in the manufacture of silk, lawn, and
+carpet-weaving; and we are still carrying on a good deal in that way,
+but much reduced from what it was. We had also a fine trade in the
+shoe way, but now entirely ruined, and hundreds driven to a starving
+condition on account of it. Farming is also at a very low ebb with us.
+Our lands, generally speaking, are mountainous and barren; and our
+landholders, full of ideas of farming gathered from the English and
+the Lothians, and other rich soils in Scotland, make no allowance for
+the odds of the quality of land, and consequently stretch us much
+beyond what in the event we will be found able to pay. We are also
+much at a loss for want of proper methods in our improvements of
+farming. Necessity compels us to leave our old schemes, and few of us
+have opportunities of being well informed in new ones. In short, my
+dear Sir, since the unfortunate beginning of this American war, and
+its as unfortunate conclusion, this country has been, and still is,
+decaying very fast. Even in higher life, a couple of our Ayrshire
+noblemen, and the major part of our knights and squires, are all
+insolvent. A miserable job of a Douglas, Heron, and Co.'s bank, which
+no doubt you heard of, has undone numbers of them; and imitating
+English and French, and other foreign luxuries and fopperies, has
+ruined as many more. There is a great trade of smuggling carried on
+along our coasts, which, however destructive to the interests of the
+kingdom at large, certainly enriches this corner of it, but too often
+at the expense of our morals. However, it enables individuals to make,
+at least for a time, a splendid appearance; but Fortune, as is usual
+with her when she is uncommonly lavish of her favours, is generally
+even with them at the last; and happy were it for numbers of them if
+she would leave them no worse than when she found them.
+
+My mother sends you a small present of a cheese, 'tis but a very
+little one, as our last year's stock is sold off; but if you could fix
+on any correspondent in Edinburgh or Glasgow, we would send you a
+proper one in the season. Mrs. Black promises to take the cheese under
+her care so far, and then to send it to you by the Stirling carrier.
+
+I shall conclude this long letter with assuring you that I shall be
+very happy to hear from you, or any of our friends in your country,
+when opportunity serves.
+
+My father sends you, probably for the last time in this world, his
+warmest wishes for your welfare and happiness; and my mother and the
+rest of the family desire to enclose their kind compliments to you,
+Mrs. Burness, and the rest of your family, along with those of,
+
+Dear Sir,
+
+Your affectionate Cousin,
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 143: This gentleman (the son of an elder brother of my
+father's), when he was very young, lost his father, and having
+discovered in his father's repositories some of my father's letters, he
+requested that the correspondence might be renewed. My father continued
+till the last year of his life to correspond with his nephew, and it was
+afterwards kept up by my brother. Extracts from some of my brother's
+letters to his cousin are introduced, for the purpose of exhibiting the
+poet before he had attracted the notice of the public, and in his
+domestic family relations afterwards.--GILBERT BURNS.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+IV.
+
+
+TO MISS E.
+
+[The name of the lady to whom this and the three succeeding letters
+were addressed, seems to have been known to Dr. Currie, who introduced
+them in his first edition, but excluded them from his second. They
+were restored by Gilbert Burns, without naming the lady.]
+
+_Lochlea_, 1783.
+
+I verily believe, my dear E., that the pure, genuine feelings of love
+are as rare in the world as the pure genuine principles of virtue and
+piety. This I hope will account for the uncommon style of all my
+letters to you. By uncommon, I mean their being written in such a
+serious manner, which, to tell you the truth, has made me often afraid
+lest you should take me for some zealous bigot, who conversed with his
+mistress as he would converse with his minister. I don't know how it
+is, my dear, for though, except your company, there is nothing on
+earth gives me much pleasure as writing to you, yet it never gives me
+those giddy raptures so much talked of among lovers. I have often
+thought that if a well-grounded affection be not really a part of
+virtue, 'tis something extremely akin to it. Whenever the thought of
+my E. warms my heart, every feeling of humanity, every principle of
+generosity kindles in my breast. It extinguishes every dirty spark of
+malice and envy which are but too apt to infest me. I grasp every
+creature in the arms of universal benevolence, and equally participate
+in the pleasures of the happy, and sympathize with the miseries of the
+unfortunate. I assure you, my dear, I often look up to the Divine
+Disposer of events with an eye of gratitude for the blessing which I
+hope he intends to bestow on me in bestowing you. I sincerely wish
+that he may bless my endeavors to make your life as comfortable and
+happy as possible, both in sweetening the rougher parts of my natural
+temper, and bettering the unkindly circumstances of my fortune. This,
+my dear, is a passion, at least in my view, worthy of a man, and I
+will add worthy of a Christian. The sordid earth-worm may profess love
+to a woman's person, whilst in reality his affection is centred in her
+pocket; and the slavish drudge may go a-wooing as he goes to the
+horse-market to choose one who is stout and firm, and as we may say of
+an old horse, one who will be a good drudge and draw kindly. I disdain
+their dirty, puny ideas. I would be heartily out of humour with myself
+if I thought I were capable of having so poor a notion of the sex,
+which were designed to crown the pleasures of society. Poor devils! I
+don't envy them their happiness who have such notions. For my part, I
+propose quite other pleasures with my dear partner.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+V.
+
+
+TO MISS E.
+
+_Lochlea_, 1783.
+
+MY DEAR E.:
+
+I do not remember, in the course of your acquaintance and mine, ever
+to have heard your opinion on the ordinary way of falling in love,
+amongst people of our station of life: I do not mean the persons who
+proceed in the way of bargain, but those whose affection is really
+placed on the person.
+
+Though I be, as you know very well, but a very awkward lover myself,
+yet as I have some opportunities of observing the conduct of others
+who are much better skilled in the affair of courtship than I am, I
+often think it is owing to lucky chance more than to good management,
+that there are not more unhappy marriages than usually are.
+
+It is natural for a young fellow to like the acquaintance of the
+females, and customary for him to keep them company when occasion
+serves: some one of them is more agreeable to him than the rest; there
+is something, he knows not what, pleases him, he knows not how, in her
+company. This I take to be what is called love with the greater part
+of us; and I must own, dear E., it is a hard game, such a one as you
+have to play when you meet with such a lover. You cannot refuse but he
+is sincere, and yet though you use him ever so favourably, perhaps in
+a few months, or at farthest in a year or two, the same unaccountable
+fancy may make him as distractedly fond of another, whilst you are
+quite forgot. I am aware that perhaps the next time I have the
+pleasure of seeing you, you may bid me take my own lesson home, and
+tell me that the passion I have professed for you is perhaps one of
+those transient flashes I have been describing; but I hope, my dear
+E., you will do me the justice to believe me, when I assure you that
+the love I have for you is founded on the sacred principles of virtue
+and honour, and by consequence so long as you continue possessed of
+those amiable qualities which first inspired my passion for you, so
+long must I continue to love you. Believe me, my dear, it is love like
+this alone which can render the marriage state happy. People may talk
+of flames and raptures as long as they please, and a warm fancy, with
+a flow of youthful spirits, may make them feel something like what
+they describe; but sure I am the nobler faculties of the mind, with
+kindred feelings of the heart, can only be the foundation of
+friendship, and it has always been my opinion that the married life
+was only friendship in a more exalted degree. If you will be so good
+as to grant my wishes, and it should please Providence to spare us to
+the latest periods of life, I can look forward and see that even then,
+though bent down with wrinkled age; even then, when all other worldly
+circumstances will be indifferent to me, I will regard my E. with the
+tenderest affection, and for this plain reason, because she is still
+possessed of those noble qualities, improved to a much higher degree,
+which first inspired my affection for her.
+
+    "O! happy state when souls each other draw,
+    When love is liberty and nature law."[144]
+
+I know were I to speak in such a style to many a girl, who thinks
+herself possessed of no small share of sense, she would think it
+ridiculous; but the language of the heart is, my dear E., the only
+courtship I shall ever use to you.
+
+When I look over what I have written, I am sensible it is vastly
+different from the ordinary style of courtship, but I shall make no
+apology--I know your good nature will excuse what your goody sense may
+see amiss.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 144: Pope. _Eloisa to Abelard._]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+VI.
+
+
+TO MISS E.
+
+_Lochlea_, 1783.
+
+I have often thought it a peculiarly unlucky circumstance in love,
+that though in every other situation in life, telling the truth is not
+only the safest, but actually by far the easiest way of proceeding, a
+lover is never under greater difficulty in acting, or more puzzled for
+expression, than when his passion is sincere, and his intentions are
+honourable. I do not think that it is very difficult for a person of
+ordinary capacity to talk of love and fondness, which are not felt,
+and to make vows of constancy and fidelity, which are never intended
+to be performed, if he be villain enough to practise such detestable
+conduct: but to a man whose heart glows with the principles of
+integrity and truth, and who sincerely loves a woman of amiable
+person, uncommon refinement of sentiment and purity of manners--to
+such an one, in such circumstances, I can assure you, my dear, from my
+own feelings at this present moment, courtship is a task indeed. There
+is such a number of foreboding fears and distrustful anxieties crowd
+into my mind when I am in your company, or when I sit down to write to
+you, that what to speak, or what to write, I am altogether at a loss.
+
+There is one rule which I have hitherto practised, and which I shall
+invariably keep with you, and that is honestly to tell you the plain
+truth. There is something so mean and unmanly in the arts of
+dissimulation and falsehood, that I am surprised they can be acted by
+any one in so noble, so generous a passion, as virtuous love. No, my
+dear E., I shall never endeavour to gain your favour by such
+detestable practices. If you will be so good and so generous as to
+admit me for your partner, your companion, your bosom friend through
+life, there is nothing on this side of eternity shall give me greater
+transport; but I shall never think of purchasing your hand by any arts
+unworthy of a man, and I will add of a Christian. There is one thing,
+my dear, which I earnestly request of you, and it is this; that you
+would soon either put an end to my hopes by a peremptory refusal, or
+cure me of my fears by a generous consent.
+
+It would oblige me much if you would send me a line or two when
+convenient. I shall only add further that, if a behaviour regulated
+(though perhaps but very imperfectly) by the rules of honour and
+virtue, if a heart devoted to love and esteem you, and an earnest
+endeavour to promote your happiness; if these are qualities you would
+wish in a friend, in a husband, I hope you shall ever find them in
+your real friend, and sincere lover.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+VII.
+
+
+TO MISS E.
+
+_Lochlea_, 1783.
+
+I ought, in good manners, to have acknowledged the receipt of your
+letter before this time, but my heart was so shocked, with the
+contents of it, that I can scarcely yet collect my thoughts so as to
+write you on the subject. I will not attempt to describe what I felt
+on receiving your letter. I read it over and over, again and again,
+and though it was in the politest language of refusal, still it was
+peremptory; "you were sorry you could not make me a return, but you
+wish me," what without you I never can obtain, "you wish me all kind
+of happiness." It would be weak and unmanly to say that, without you I
+never can be happy; but sure I am, that sharing life with you would
+have given it a relish, that, wanting you, I can never taste.
+
+Your uncommon personal advantages, and your superior good sense, do
+not so much strike me; these, possibly, in a few instances may be met
+with in others; but that amiable goodness, that tender feminine
+softness, that endearing sweetness of disposition, with all the
+charming offspring of a warm feeling heart--these I never again expect
+to meet with, in such a degree, in this world. All these charming
+qualities, heightened by an education much beyond anything I have ever
+met in any woman I ever dared to approach, have made an impression on
+my heart that I do not think the world can ever efface. My imagination
+had fondly flattered myself with a wish, I dare not say it ever
+reached a hope, that possibly I might one day call you mine. I had
+formed the most delightful images, and my fancy fondly brooded over
+them; but now I am wretched for the loss of what I really had no right
+to expect. I must now think no more of you as a mistress; still I
+presume to ask to be admitted as a friend. As such I wish to be
+allowed to wait on you, and as I expect to remove in a few days a
+little further off, and you, I suppose, will perhaps soon leave this
+place, I wish to see or hear from you soon; and if an expression
+should perhaps escape me, rather too warm for friendship, I hope you
+will pardon it in, my dear Miss--(pardon me the dear expression for
+once) * * * *
+
+R. B
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+VIII.
+
+
+TO ROBERT RIDDEL, ESQ.
+
+OF GLENRIDDEL
+
+[These memoranda throw much light on the early days of Burns, and on
+the history of his mind and compositions. Robert Riddel, of the
+Friars-Carse, to whom these fragments were sent, was a good man as
+well as a distinguished antiquary.]
+
+MY DEAR SIR,
+
+On rummaging over some old papers I lighted on a MS. of my early
+years, in which I had determined to write myself out; as I was placed
+by fortune among a class of men to whom my ideas would have been
+nonsense. I had meant that the book should have lain by me, in the
+fond hope that some time or other, even after I was no more, my
+thoughts would fall into the hands of somebody capable of appreciating
+their value. It sets off thus:--
+
+"OBSERVATIONS, HINTS, SONGS, SCRAPS OF POETRY, &c., by
+ROBERT BURNESS: a man who had little art in making money, and
+still less in keeping it; but was, however, a man of some sense, a
+great deal of honesty, and unbounded good-will to every creature,
+rational and irrational.--As he was but little indebted to scholastic
+education, and bred at a plough-tail, his performances must be
+strongly tinctured with his unpolished, rustic way of life; but as I
+believe they are really his own, it may be some entertainment to a
+curious observer of human nature to see how a ploughman thinks, and
+feels, under the pressure of love, ambition, anxiety, grief, with the
+like cares and passions, which, however diversified by the modes and
+manners of life, operate pretty much alike, I believe, on all the
+species."
+
+     "There are numbers in the world who do not want sense to
+     make a figure, so much as an opinion of their own abilities
+     to put them upon recording their observations, and allowing
+     them the same importance which they do to those which appear
+     in print."--SHENSTONE.
+
+    "Pleasing, when youth is long expired, to trace
+      The forms our pencil, or our pen designed!
+    Such was our youthful air, and shape, and face,
+      Such the soft image of our youthful mind."--_Ibid._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_April_, 1783.
+
+Notwithstanding all that has been said against love, respecting the
+folly and weakness it lends a young inexperienced mind into; still I
+think it in a great measure deserves the highest encomiums that have
+been passed upon it. If anything on earth deserves the name of rapture
+or transport, it is the feelings of green eighteen in the company of
+the mistress of his heart, when she repays him with an equal return of
+affection.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_August._
+
+There is certainly some connexion between love and music, and poetry;
+and therefore, I have always thought it a fine touch of nature, that
+passage in a modern love-composition:
+
+    "As towards her cot she jogged along,
+      Her name was frequent in his song."
+
+For my own part I never had the least thought or inclination of
+turning poet till I got once heartily in love, and then rhyme and song
+were in a manner the spontaneous language of my heart. The following
+composition was the first of my performances, and done at an early
+period of life, when my heart glowed with honest warm simplicity;
+unacquainted and uncorrupted with the ways of a wicked world. The
+performance is indeed, very puerile and silly; but I am always pleased
+with it, as it recalls to my mind those happy days when my heart was
+yet honest, and my tongue was sincere. The subject of it was a young
+girl who really deserved all the praises I have bestowed on her. I not
+only had this opinion of her then--but I actually think so still, now
+that the spell is long since broken, and the enchantment at an end.
+
+    O once I lov'd a bonnie lass.[145]
+
+Lest my works should be thought below criticism: or meet with a
+critic, who, perhaps, will not look on them with so candid and
+favourable an eye, I am determined to criticise them myself.
+
+The first distich of the first stanza is quite too much in the flimsy
+strain of our ordinary street ballads: and, on the other hand, the
+second distich is too much in the other extreme. The expression is a
+little awkward, and the sentiment too serious. Stanza the second I am
+well pleased with; and I think it conveys a fine idea of that amiable
+part of the sex--the agreeables; or what in our Scotch dialect we call
+a sweet sonsie lass. The third stanza has a little of the flimsy turn
+in it; and the third line has rather too serious a cast. The fourth
+stanza is a very indifferent one; the first line, is, indeed, all in
+the strain of the second stanza, but the rest is most expletive. The
+thoughts in the fifth stanza come finely up to my favourite idea--a
+sweet sonsie lass: the last line, however, halts a little. The same
+sentiments are kept up with equal spirit and tenderness in the sixth
+stanza, but the second and fourth lines ending with short syllables
+hurt the whole. The seventh stanza has several minute faults; but I
+remember I composed it in a wild enthusiasm of passion, and to this
+hour I never recollect it but my heart melts, my blood sallies, at the
+remembrance.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_September._
+
+I entirely agree with that judicious philosopher, Mr. Smith, in his
+excellent Theory of Moral Sentiments, that remorse is the most painful
+sentiment that can embitter the human bosom. Any ordinary pitch of
+fortitude may bear up tolerably well under those calamities, in the
+procurement of which we ourselves have had no hand; but when our own
+follies, or crimes, have made us miserable and wretched, to bear up
+with manly firmness, and at the same time have a proper penitent sense
+of our misconduct, is a glorious effort of self-command.
+
+    Of all the numerous ills that hurt our peace,
+    That press the soul, or wring the mind with anguish,
+    Beyond comparison the worst are those
+    That to our folly or our guilt we owe.
+    In every other circumstance, the mind
+    Has this to say, 'It was no deed of mine;'
+    But when to all the evil of misfortune
+    This sting is added--'Blame thy foolish self!'
+    Or worser far, the pangs of keen remorse;
+    The torturing, gnawing consciousness of guilt--
+    Of guilt, perhaps, where we've involved others;
+    The young, the innocent, who fondly lov'd us,
+    Nay, more, that every love their cause of ruin!
+    O burning hell; in all thy store of torments,
+    There's not a keener lash!
+    Lives there a man so firm, who, while his heart
+    Feels all the bitter horrors of his crime,
+    Can reason down its agonizing throbs;
+    And, after proper purpose of amendment,
+    Can firmly force his jarring thoughts to peace?
+    O, happy! happy! enviable man!
+    O glorious magnanimity of soul!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_March_, 1784.
+
+I have often observed, in the course of my experience of human life,
+that every man, even the worst, has something good about him; though
+very often nothing else than a happy temperament of constitution
+inclining him to this or that virtue. For this reason no man can say
+in what degree any other person, besides himself, can be, with strict
+justice, called wicked. Let any, of the strictest character for
+regularity of conduct among us, examine impartially how many vices he
+has never been guilty of, not from any care or vigilance, but for want
+of opportunity, or some accidental circumstance intervening; how many
+of the weaknesses of mankind he has escaped, because he was out of the
+line of such temptation; and, what often, if not always, weighs more
+than all the rest, how much he is indebted to the world's good
+opinion, because the world does not know all: I say, any man who can
+thus think, will scan the failings, nay, the faults and crimes, of
+mankind around him, with a brother's eye.
+
+I have often courted the acquaintance of that part of mankind,
+commonly known by the ordinary phrase of blackguards, sometimes
+farther than was consistent with the safety of my character; those who
+by thoughtless prodigality or headstrong passions, have been driven to
+ruin. Though disgraced by follies, nay sometimes, stained with guilt,
+I have yet found among them, in not a few instances, some of the
+noblest virtues, magnanimity, generosity, disinterested friendship,
+and even modesty.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_April._
+
+As I am what the men of the world, if they knew such a man, would call
+a whimsical mortal, I have various sources of pleasure and enjoyment,
+which are, in a manner, peculiar to myself, or some here and there
+such other out-of-the-way person. Such is the peculiar pleasure I take
+in the season of winter, more than the rest of the year. This, I
+believe, may be partly owing to my misfortunes giving my mind a
+melancholy cast: but there is something even in the--
+
+    "Mighty tempest, and the hoary waste
+    Abrupt and deep, stretch'd o'er the buried earth,"--
+
+which raises the mind to a serious sublimity, favourable to everything
+great and noble. There is scarcely any earthly object gives me more--I
+do not know if I should call it pleasure--but something which exalts
+me, something which enraptures me--than to walk in the sheltered side
+of a wood, or high plantation, in a cloudy winter-day, and hear the
+stormy wind howling among the trees, and raving over the plain. It is
+my best season for devotion: my mind is wrapt up in a kind of
+enthusiasm to Him, who, in the pompous language of the Hebrew bard,
+"walks on the wings of the wind." In one of these seasons, just after
+a train of misfortunes, I composed the following:--
+
+    The wintry west extends his blast.[146]
+
+Shenstone finely observes, that love-verses, writ without any real
+passion, are the most nauseous of all conceits; and I have often
+thought that no man can be a proper critic of love-composition, except
+he himself, in one or more instances, have been a warm votary of this
+passion. As I have been all along a miserable dupe to love, and have
+been led into a thousand weaknesses and follies by it, for that reason
+I put the more confidence in my critical skill, in distinguishing
+foppery and conceit from real passion and nature. Whether the
+following song will stand the test, I will not pretend to say, because
+it is my own; only I can say it was, at the time, genuine from the heart:--
+
+    Behind yon hills, where Lugar flows.[147]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_March_, 1784.
+
+There was a certain period of my life that my spirit was broke by
+repeated losses and disasters which threatened, and indeed effected,
+the utter ruin of my fortune. My body, too, was attacked by that most
+dreadful distemper, a hypochondria, or confirmed melancholy. In this
+wretched state, the recollection of which makes me shudder, I hung my
+harp on the willow trees, except in some lucid intervals, in one of
+which I composed the following:--
+
+    O thou Great Being! what Thou art.[148]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_April._
+
+The following song is a wild rhapsody, miserably deficient in
+versification; but as the sentiments are the genuine feelings of my
+heart, for that reason I have a particular pleasure in conning it
+over.
+
+    My father was a farmer
+      Upon the Carrick border, O.[149]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_April._
+
+I think the whole species of young men may be naturally enough divided
+into two grand classes, which I shall call the _grave_ and the
+_merry_; though, by the by, these terms do not with propriety enough
+express my ideas. The grave I shall cast into the usual division of
+those who are goaded on by the love of money, and those whose darling
+wish is to make a figure in the world. The merry are the men of
+pleasure of all denominations; the jovial lads, who have too much fire
+and spirit to have any settled rule of action; but, without much
+deliberation, follow the strong impulses of nature: the thoughtless,
+the careless, the indolent--in particular _he_ who, with a happy
+sweetness of natural temper, and a cheerful vacancy of thought, steals
+through life--generally, indeed, in poverty and obscurity; but poverty
+and obscurity are only evils to him who can sit gravely down and make
+a repining comparison between his own situation and that of others;
+and lastly, to grace the quorum, such are, generally, those whose
+heads are capable of all the towerings of genius, and whose hearts are
+warmed with all the delicacy of feeling.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_August._
+
+The foregoing was to have been an elaborate dissertation on the
+various species of men; but as I cannot please myself in the
+arrangement of my ideas, I must wait till farther experience and nicer
+observation throw more light on the subject.--In the mean time I shall
+set down the following fragment, which, as it is the genuine language
+of my heart, will enable anybody to determine which of the classes I
+belong to:
+
+    There's nought but care on ev'ry han',
+      In ev'ry hour that passes, O.[150]
+
+As the grand end of human life is to cultivate an intercourse with
+that BEING to whom we owe life, with every enjoyment that
+renders life delightful; and to maintain an integritive conduct
+towards our fellow-creatures; that so, by forming piety and virtue
+into habit, we may be fit members for that society of the pious and
+the good, which reason and revelation teach us to expect beyond the
+grave, I do not see that the turn of mind, and pursuits of such a one
+as the above verses describe--one who spends the hours and thoughts
+which the vocations of the day can spare with Ossian, Shakspeare,
+Thomson, Shenstone, Sterne, &c.; or, as the maggot takes him, a gun, a
+fiddle, or a song to make or mend; and at all times some heart's-dear
+bonnie lass in view--I say I do not see that the turn of mind and
+pursuits of such an one are in the least more inimical to the sacred
+interests of piety and virtue, than the even lawful, bustling and
+straining after the world's riches and honours: and I do not see but
+he may gain heaven as well--which, by the by, is no mean
+consideration--who steals through the vale of life, amusing himself
+with every little flower that fortune throws in his way, as he, who
+straining straight forward, and perhaps spattering all about him,
+gains some of life's little eminencies, where, after all, he can only
+see and be seen a little more conspicuously than what, in the pride of
+his heart, he is apt to term the poor, indolent devil he has left
+behind him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_August._
+
+A Prayer, when fainting fits, and other alarming symptoms of a
+pleurisy or some other dangerous disorder, which indeed still
+threatens me, first put nature on the alarm:--
+
+    O thou unknown, Almighty Cause
+      Of all my hope and fear![151]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_August._
+
+Misgivings in the hour of _despondency_ and prospect of death:--
+
+    Why am I loth to leave this earthly scene.[152]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+EGOTISMS FROM MY OWN SENSATIONS.
+
+_May._
+
+I don't well know what is the reason of it, but somehow or other,
+though I am when I have a mind pretty generally beloved, yet I never
+could get the art of commanding respect.--I imagine it is owing to my
+being deficient in what Sterne calls "that understrapping virtue of
+discretion."--I am so apt to a _lapsus linguae_, that I sometimes think
+the character of a certain great man I have read of somewhere is very
+much _apropos_ to myself--that he was a compound of great talents and
+great folly.--N.B. To try if I can discover the causes of this
+wretched infirmity, and, if possible, to mend it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_August._
+
+However I am pleased with the works of our Scotch poets, particularly
+the excellent Ramsay, and the still more excellent Fergusson, yet I am
+hurt to see other places of Scotland, their towns, rivers, woods,
+haughs, &c., immortalized in such celebrated performances, while my dear
+native country, the ancient bailieries of Carrick, Kyle, and Cunningham,
+famous both in ancient and modern times for a gallant and warlike race
+of inhabitants; a country where civil, and particularly religious
+liberty have ever found their first support, and their last asylum; a
+country, the birth-place of many famous philosophers, soldiers,
+statesman, and the scene of many important events recorded in Scottish
+history, particularly a great many of the actions of the glorious
+WALLACE, the SAVIOUR of his country; yet, we have never had one Scotch
+poet of any eminence, to make the fertile banks of Irvine, the romantic
+woodlands and sequestered scenes on Ayr, and the healthy mountainous
+source and winding sweep of DOON, emulate Tay, Forth, Ettrick, Tweed,
+&c. This is a complaint I would gladly remedy, but, alas! I am far
+unequal to the task, both in native genius and education. Obscure I am,
+and obscure I must be, though no young poet, nor young soldier's heart,
+ever beat more fondly for fame than mine--
+
+    "And if there is no other scene of being
+    Where my insatiate wish may have its fill,--
+    This something at my heart that heaves for room,
+    My best, my dearest part, was made in vain."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_September._
+
+There is a great irregularity in the old Scotch songs, a redundancy of
+syllables with respect to that exactness of accent and measure that
+the English poetry requires, but which glides in, most melodiously,
+with the respective tunes to which they are set. For instance, the
+fine old song of "The Mill, Mill, O,"[153] to give it a plain prosaic
+reading, it halts prodigiously out of measure; on the other hand, the
+song set to the same tune in Bremner's collection of Scotch songs,
+which begins "To Fanny fair could I impart," &c., it is most exact
+measure, and yet, let them both be sung before a real critic, one
+above the biases of prejudice, but a thorough judge of nature,--how
+flat and spiritless will the last appear, how trite, and lamely
+methodical, compared with the wild warbling cadence, the heart-moving
+melody of the first!--This is particularly the case with all those
+airs which end with a hypermetrical syllable. There is a degree of
+wild irregularity in many of the compositions and fragments which are
+daily sung to them by my compeers, the common people--a certain happy
+arrangement of old Scotch syllables, and yet, very frequently,
+nothing, not even like rhyme or sameness of jingle, at the ends of the
+lines. This has made me sometimes imagine that perhaps it might be
+possible for a Scotch poet, with a nice judicious ear, to set
+compositions to many of our most favourite airs, particularly that
+class of them mentioned above, independent of rhyme altogether.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There is a noble sublimity, a heart-melting tenderness, in some of our
+ancient ballads, which show them to be the work of a masterly hand:
+and it has often given me many a heart-ache to reflect that such
+glorious old bards--bards who very probably owed all their talents to
+native genius, yet have described the exploits of heroes, the pangs of
+disappointment, and the meltings of love, with such fine strokes of
+nature--that their very names (O how mortifying to a bard's vanity!)
+are now "buried among the wreck of things which were."
+
+O ye illustrious names unknown! who could feel so strongly and
+describe so well: the last, the meanest of the muses' train--one who,
+though far inferior to your flights, yet eyes your path, and with
+trembling wing would sometimes soar after you--a poor rustic bard
+unknown, pays this sympathetic pang to your memory! Some of you tell
+us, with all the charms of verse, that you have been unfortunate in
+the world--unfortunate in love: he, too, has felt the loss of his
+little fortune, the loss of friends, and, worse than all, the loss of
+the woman he adored. Like you, all his consolation was his muse: she
+taught him in rustic measures to complain. Happy could he have done it
+with your strength of imagination and flow of verse! May the turf lie
+lightly on your bones! and may you now enjoy that solace and rest
+which this world rarely gives to the heart tuned to all the feelings
+of poesy and love!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_September._
+
+The following fragment is done something in imitation of the manner of
+a noble old Scottish piece, called M'Millan's Peggy, and sings to the
+tune of Galla Water.--My Montgomery's Peggy was my deity for six or
+eight months. She had been bred (though, as the world says, without
+any just pretence for it) in a style of life rather elegant; but, as
+Vanbrugh says in one of his comedies, my "d----d star found me out"
+there too: for though I began the affair merely in a _gaitie de
+coeur_, or, to tell the truth, which will scarcely be believed, a
+vanity of showing my parts in courtship, particularly my abilities at
+a _billet-doux_, which I always piqued myself upon, made me lay siege
+to her; and when, as I always do in my foolish gallantries, I had
+fettered myself into a very warm affection for her, she told me one
+day, in a flag of truce, that her fortress had been for some time
+before the rightful property of another; but, with the greatest
+friendship and politeness, she offered me every allegiance except
+actual possession. I found out afterwards that what she told me of a
+pre-engagement was really true; but it cost me some heart-aches to get
+rid of the affair.
+
+I have even tried to imitate in this extempore thing that irregularity
+in the rhymes, which, when judiciously done, has such a fine effect on
+the ear.
+
+    "Altho' my bed were in yon muir."[154]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_September._
+
+There is another fragment in imitation of an old Scotch song, well
+known among the country ingle-sides.--I cannot tell the name, neither
+of the song nor the tune, but they are in fine unison with one
+another.--By the way, these old Scottish airs are so nobly
+sentimental, that when one would compose to them, to "south the tune,"
+as our Scotch phrase is, over and over, is the readiest way to catch
+the inspiration, and raise the bard into that glorious enthusiasm so
+strongly characteristic of our old Scotch poetry. I shall here set
+down one verse of the piece mentioned above, both to mark the song and
+tune I mean, and likewise as a debt I owe to the author, as the
+repeating of that verse has lighted up my flame a thousand times:--
+
+    When clouds in skies do come together
+      To hide the brightness of the sun,
+    There will surely be some pleasant weather
+      When a' their storms are past and gone.[155]
+
+    Though fickle fortune has deceived me,
+      She promis'd fair and perform'd but ill;
+    Of mistress, friends, and wealth bereav'd me,
+      Yet I bear a heart shall support me still.
+
+    I'll act with prudence as far as I'm able,
+      But if success I must never find,
+    Then come misfortune, I bid thee welcome,
+      I'll meet thee with an undaunted mind.
+
+The above was an extempore, under the pressure of a heavy train of
+misfortunes, which, indeed, threatened to undo me altogether. It was
+just at the close of that dreadful period mentioned already, and
+though the weather has brightened up a little with me, yet there has
+always been since a tempest brewing round me in the grim sky of
+futurity, which I pretty plainly see will some time or other, perhaps
+ere long, overwhelm me, and drive me into some doleful dell, to pine
+in solitary, squalid wretchedness.--However, as I hope my poor country
+muse, who, all rustic, awkward, and unpolished as she is, has more
+charms for me than any other of the pleasures of life beside--as I
+hope she will not then desert me, I may even then learn to be, if not
+happy, at least easy, and south a sang to soothe my misery.
+
+'Twas at the same time I set about composing an air in the old Scotch
+style.--I am not musical scholar enough to prick down my tune
+properly, so it can never see the light, and perhaps 'tis no great
+matter; but the following were the verses I composed to suit it:--
+
+    O raging fortune's withering blast
+      Has laid my leaf full low, O![156]
+
+The tune consisted of three parts, so that the above verses just went
+through the whole air.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_October_, 1785.
+
+If ever any young man, in the vestibule of the world, chance to throw
+his eye over these pages, let him pay a warm attention to the
+following observations, as I assure him they are the fruit of a poor
+devil's dear-bought experience.--I have literally, like that great
+poet and great gallant, and by consequence, that great fool, Solomon,
+"turned my eyes to behold madness and folly." Nay, I have, with all
+the ardour of a lively, fanciful, and whimsical imagination,
+accompanied with a warm, feeling, poetic heart, shaken hands with
+their intoxicating friendship.
+
+In the first place, let my pupil, as he tenders his own peace, keep up
+a regular, warm intercourse with the Deity. * * * *
+
+This is all worth quoting in my MSS., and more than all.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 145: See Songs and Ballads, No. I.]
+
+[Footnote 146: See Winter. A Dirge. Poem I.]
+
+[Footnote 147: Song XIV.]
+
+[Footnote 148: Poem IX.]
+
+[Footnote 149: Song V]
+
+[Footnote 150: Song XVII.]
+
+[Footnote 151: Poem X.]
+
+[Footnote 152: Poem XI.]
+
+[Footnote 153: "The Mill, Mill, O," is by Allan Ramsay.]
+
+[Footnote 154: Song VIII.]
+
+[Footnote 155: Alluding to the misfortunes he feelingly laments before
+this verse. (This is the author's note.)]
+
+[Footnote 156: Song II.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+IX.
+
+
+TO MR. JAMES BURNESS,
+
+MONTROSE.
+
+[The elder Burns, whose death this letter intimates, lies buried in
+the kirk-yard of Alloway, with a tombstone recording his worth.]
+
+_Lochlea_, 17_th Feb._ 1784.
+
+DEAR COUSIN,
+
+I would have returned you my thanks for your kind favour of the 13th
+of December sooner, had it not been that I waited to give you an
+account of that melancholy event, which, for some time past, we have
+from day to day expected.
+
+On the 13th current I lost the best of fathers. Though, to be sure, we
+have had long warning of the impending stroke; still the feelings of
+nature claim their part, and I cannot recollect the tender endearments
+and parental lessons of the best of friends and ablest of instructors,
+without feeling what perhaps the calmer dictates of reason would
+partly condemn.
+
+I hope my father's friends in your country will not let their
+connexion in this place die with him. For my part I shall ever with
+pleasure--with pride, acknowledge my connexion with those who were
+allied by the ties of blood and friendship to a man whose memory I
+shall ever honour and revere.
+
+I expect, therefore, my dear Sir, you will not neglect any opportunity
+of letting me hear from you, which will very much oblige,
+
+My dear Cousin, yours sincerely,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+X.
+
+
+TO JAMES BURNESS,
+
+MONTROSE.
+
+[Mrs. Buchan, the forerunner in extravagance and absurdity of Joanna
+Southcote, after attempting to fix her tent among the hills of the
+west and the vales of the Nith, finally set up her staff at
+Auchengibbert-Hill, in Galloway, where she lectured her followers, and
+held out hopes of their reaching the stars, even in this life. She
+died early: one or two of her people, as she called them, survived
+till within these half-dozen years.]
+
+_Mossgiel, August_, 1784.
+
+We have been surprised with one of the most extraordinary phenomena in
+the moral world which, I dare say, had happened in the course of this
+half century. We have had a party of Presbytery relief, as they call
+themselves, for some time in this country. A pretty thriving society
+of them has been in the burgh of Irvine for some years past, till
+about two years ago, a Mrs. Buchan from Glasgow came among them, and
+began to spread some fanatical notions of religion among them, and, in
+a short time, made many converts; and, among others, their preacher,
+Mr. Whyte, who, upon that account, has been suspended and formally
+deposed by his brethren. He continued, however, to preach in private
+to his party, and was supported, both he and their spiritual mother,
+as they affect to call old Buchan, by the contributions of the rest,
+several of whom were in good circumstances; till, in spring last, the
+populace rose and mobbed Mrs. Buchan, and put her out of the town; on
+which all her followers voluntarily quitted the place likewise, and
+with such precipitation, that many of them never shut their doors
+behind them; one left a washing on the green, another a cow bellowing
+at the crib without food, or anybody to mind her, and after several
+stages, they are fixed at present in the neighbourhood of Dumfries.
+Their tenets are a strange jumble of enthusiastic jargon; among
+others, she pretends to give them the Holy Ghost by breathing on them,
+which she does with postures and practices that are scandalously
+indecent; they have likewise disposed of all their effects, and hold a
+community of goods, and live nearly an idle life, carrying on a great
+farce of pretended devotion in barns and woods, where they lodge and
+lie all together, and hold likewise a community of women, as it is
+another of their tenets that they can commit no mortal sin. I am
+personally acquainted with most of them, and I can assure you the
+above mentioned are facts.
+
+This, my dear Sir, is one of the many instances of the folly of
+leaving the guidance of sound reason and common sense in matters of
+religion.
+
+Whenever we neglect or despise these sacred monitors, the whimsical
+notions of a perturbated brain are taken for the immediate influences
+of the Deity, and the wildest fanaticism, and the most inconstant
+absurdities, will meet with abettors and converts. Nay, I have often
+thought, that the more out-of-the-way and ridiculous the fancies are,
+if once they are sanctified under the sacred name of religion, the
+unhappy mistaken votaries are the more firmly glued to them.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XI.
+
+
+TO MISS ----.
+
+[This has generally been printed among the early letters of Burns.
+Cromek thinks that the person addressed was the "Peggy" of the
+Common-place Book. This is questioned by Robert Chambers, who,
+however, leaves both name and date unsettled.]
+
+MY DEAR COUNTRYWOMAN,
+
+I am so impatient to show you that I am once more at peace with you,
+that I send you the book I mentioned directly, rather than wait the
+uncertain time of my seeing you. I am afraid I have mislaid or lost
+Collins' Poems, which I promised to Miss Irvin. If I can find them, I
+will forward them by you; if not, you must apologize for me.
+
+I know you will laugh at it when I tell you that your piano and you
+together have played the deuce somehow about my heart. My breast has
+been widowed these many months, and I thought myself proof against the
+fascinating witchcraft; but I am afraid you will "feelingly convince
+me what I am." I say, I am afraid, because I am not sure what is the
+matter with me. I have one miserable bad symptom; when you whisper, or
+look kindly to another, it gives me a draught of damnation. I have a
+kind of wayward wish to be with you ten minutes by yourself, though
+what I would say, Heaven above knows, for I am sure I know not. I have
+no formed design in all this; but just, in the nakedness of my heart,
+write you down a mere matter-of-fact story. You may perhaps give
+yourself airs of distance on this, and that will completely cure me;
+but I wish you would not: just let us meet, if you please, in the old
+beaten way of friendship.
+
+I will not subscribe myself your humble servant, for that is a phrase,
+I think at least fifty miles off from the heart; but I will conclude
+with sincerely wishing that the Great Protector of innocence may
+shield you from the barbed dart of calumny, and hand you by the covert
+snare of deceit.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XII.
+
+
+TO MR. JOHN RICHMOND,
+
+OF EDINBURGH.
+
+[John Richmond, writer, one of the poet's Mauchline friends, to whom
+we are indebted for much valuable information concerning Burns and his
+productions--Connel was the Mauchline carrier.]
+
+_Mossgiel, Feb._ 17, 1786.
+
+MY DEAR SIR,
+
+I have not time at present to upbraid you for your silence and
+neglect; I shall only say I received yours with great pleasure. I have
+enclosed you a piece of rhyming ware for your perusal. I have been
+very busy with the muses since I saw you, and have composed, among
+several others, "The Ordination," a poem on Mr. M'Kinlay's being
+called to Kilmarnock; "Scotch Drink," a poem; "The Cotter's Saturday
+Night;" "An Address to the Devil," &c. I have likewise completed my
+poem on the "Dogs," but have not shown it to the world. My chief
+patron now is Mr. Aiken, in Ayr, who is pleased to express great
+approbation of my works. Be so good as send me Fergusson, by Connel,
+and I will remit you the money. I have no news to acquaint you with
+about Mauchline, they are just going on in the old way. I have some
+very important news with respect to myself, not the most
+agreeable--news that I am sure you cannot guess, but I shall give you
+the particulars another time. I am extremely happy with Smith; he is
+the only friend I have now in Mauchline. I can scarcely forgive your
+long neglect of me, and I beg you will let me hear from you regularly
+by Connel. If you would act your part as a friend, I am sure neither
+good nor bad fortune should strange of alter me. Excuse haste, as I
+got yours but yesterday.
+
+I am, my dear Sir,
+
+Yours,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XIII.
+
+
+TO MR. JOHN KENNEDY,
+
+DUMFRIES HOUSE.
+
+[Who the John Kennedy was to whom Burns addressed this note, enclosing
+"The Cotter's Saturday night," it is now, perhaps, vain to inquire:
+the Kennedy to whom Mr. Cobbett introduces us was a Thomas--perhaps a
+relation.]
+
+_Mossgiel, 3d March_, 1786.
+
+SIR,
+
+I have done myself the pleasure of complying with your request in
+sending you my Cottager.--If you have a leisure minute, I should be
+glad you would copy it, and return me either the original or the
+transcript, as I have not a copy of it by me, and I have a friend who
+wishes to see it.
+
+    "Now, Kennedy, if foot or horse."[157]
+
+ROBT. BURNESS.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 157: Poem LXXV.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XIV.
+
+
+TO MR. ROBERT MUIR,
+
+KILMARNOCK.
+
+[The Muirs--there were two brothers--were kind and generous patrons of
+the poet. They subscribed for half-a-hundred copies of the Kilmarnock
+edition of his works, and befriended him when friends were few.]
+
+_Mossgiel_, 20_th March_, 1786.
+
+DEAR SIR,
+
+I am heartily sorry I had not the pleasure of seeing you as you
+returned through Mauchline; but as I was engaged, I could not be in
+town before the evening.
+
+I here enclose you my "Scotch Drink," and "may the ---- follow with a
+blessing for your edification." I hope, some time before we hear the
+gowk, to have the pleasure of seeing you at Kilmarnock, when I intend
+we shall have a gill between us, in a mutchkin-stoup; which will be a
+great comfort and consolation to,
+
+Dear Sir,
+
+Your humble servant,
+
+ROBT. BURNESS.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XV.
+
+
+TO MR. AIKEN.
+
+[Robert Aiken, the gentleman to whom the "Cotter's Saturday Night" is
+inscribed, is also introduced in the "Brigs of Ayr." This is the last
+letter to which Burns seems to have subscribed his name in the
+spelling of his ancestors.]
+
+_Mossgiel, 3d April_, 1786.
+
+DEAR SIR,
+
+I received your kind letter with double pleasure, on account of the
+second flattering instance of Mrs. C.'s notice and approbation, I
+assure you I
+
+    "Turn out the burnt o' my shin,"
+
+as the famous Ramsay, of jingling memory, says, at such a patroness.
+Present her my most grateful acknowledgment in your very best manner
+of telling truth. I have inscribed the following stanza on the blank
+leaf of Miss More's Work:--[158]
+
+My proposals for publishing I am just going to send to press. I expect
+to hear from you by the first opportunity.
+
+I am ever, dear Sir,
+
+Yours,
+
+ROBT. BURNESS.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 158: See Poem LXXVIII.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XVI.
+
+
+TO MR. M'WHINNIE,
+
+WRITER, AYR.
+
+[Mr. M'Whinnie obtained for Burns several subscriptions for the first
+edition of his Poems, of which this note enclosed the proposals.]
+
+_Mossgiel, 17th April, 1786._
+
+It is injuring some hearts, those hearts that elegantly bear the
+impression of the good Creator, to say to them you give them the
+trouble of obliging a friend; for this reason, I only tell you that I
+gratify my own feelings in requesting your friendly offices with
+respect to the enclosed, because I know it will gratify yours to
+assist me in it to the utmost of your power.
+
+I have sent you four copies, as I have no less than eight dozen, which
+is a great deal more than I shall ever need.
+
+Be sure to remember a poor poet militant in your prayers. He looks
+forward with fear and trembling to that, to him, important moment
+which stamps the die with--with--with, perhaps, the eternal disgrace
+of,
+
+My dear Sir,
+
+Your humble,
+
+afflicted, tormented,
+
+ROBERT BURNS.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XVII.
+
+
+TO MR. JOHN KENNEDY.
+
+["The small piece," the very last of his productions, which the poet
+enclosed in this letter, was "The Mountain Daisy," called in the
+manuscript more properly "The Gowan."]
+
+_Mossgiel, 20th April, 1786._
+
+SIR,
+
+By some neglect in Mr. Hamilton, I did not hear of your kind request
+for a subscription paper 'till this day. I will not attempt any
+acknowledgment for this, nor the manner in which I see your name in
+Mr. Hamilton's subscription list. Allow me only to say, Sir, I feel
+the weight of the debt.
+
+I have here likewise enclosed a small piece, the very latest of my
+productions. I am a good deal pleased with some sentiments myself, as
+they are just the native querulous feelings of a heart, which, as the
+elegantly melting Gray says, "melancholy has marked for her own."
+
+Our race comes on a-pace; that much-expected scene of revelry and
+mirth; but to me it brings no joy equal to that meeting with which
+your last flattered the expectation of,
+
+Sir,
+
+Your indebted humble servant,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XVIII.
+
+
+TO MON. JAMES SMITH,
+
+MAUCHLINE.
+
+[James Smith, of whom Burns said he was small of stature, but large of
+soul, kept at that time a draper's shop in Mauchline, and was comrade
+to the poet in many a wild adventure.]
+
+_Monday Morning, Mossgiel, 1786._
+
+MY DEAR SIR,
+
+I went to Dr. Douglas yesterday, fully resolved to take the
+opportunity of Captain Smith: but I found the Doctor with a Mr. and
+Mrs. White, both Jamaicans, and they have deranged my plans
+altogether. They assure him that to send me from Savannah la Mar to
+Port Antonio will cost my master, Charles Douglas, upwards of fifty
+pounds; besides running the risk of throwing myself into a pleuritic
+fever, in consequence of hard travelling in the sun. On these
+accounts, he refuses sending me with Smith, but a vessel sails from
+Greenock the first of September, right for the place of my
+destination. The Captain of her is an intimate friend of Mr. Gavin
+Hamilton's, and as good a fellow as heart could wish: with him I am
+destined to go. Where I shall shelter, I know not, but I hope to
+weather the storm. Perish the drop of blood of mine that fears them! I
+know their worst, and am prepared to meet it;--
+
+    "I'll laugh an' sing, an' shake my leg,
+                As lang's I dow."
+
+On Thursday morning, if you can muster as much self-denial as to be
+out of bed about seven o'clock, I shall see you, as I ride through to
+Cumnock. After all, Heaven bless the sex! I feel there is still
+happiness for me among them:
+
+    "O woman, lovely woman! Heaven design'd you
+    To temper man!--we had been brutes without you."[159]
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 159: Otway. Venice Preserved.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XIX.
+
+
+TO MR. JOHN KENNEDY.
+
+[Burns was busy in a two-fold sense at present: he was seeking patrons
+in every quarter for his contemplated volume, and was composing for it
+some of his most exquisite poetry.]
+
+_Mossgiel, 16 May, 1796._
+
+DEAR SIR,
+
+I have sent you the above hasty copy as I promised. In about three or
+four weeks I shall probably set the press a-going. I am much hurried
+at present, otherwise your diligence, so very friendly in my
+subscription, should have a more lengthened acknowledgment from,
+
+Dear Sir,
+
+Your obliged servant,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XX.
+
+
+TO MR. DAVID BRICE.
+
+[David Brice was a shoemaker, and shared with Smith the confidence of
+the poet in his love affairs. He was working in Glasgow when this
+letter was written.]
+
+_Mossgiel, June_ 12, 1786.
+
+DEAR BRICE,
+
+I received your message by G. Patterson, and as I am not very throng
+at present, I just write to let you know that there is such a
+worthless, rhyming reprobate, as your humble servant, still in the
+land of the living, though I can scarcely say, in the place of hope. I
+have no news to tell you that will give me any pleasure to mention, or
+you to hear.
+
+Poor ill-advised ungrateful Armour came home on Friday last. You have
+heard all the particulars of that affair, and a black affair it is.
+What she thinks of her conduct now, I don't know; one thing I do
+know--she has made me completely miserable. Never man loved, or rather
+adored a woman more than I did her; and, to confess a truth between
+you and me, I do still love her to distraction after all, though I
+won't tell her so if I were to see her, which I don't want to do. My
+poor dear unfortunate Jean! how happy have I been in thy arms! It is
+not the losing her that makes me so unhappy, but for her sake I feel
+most severely: I foresee she is in the road to, I am afraid, eternal
+ruin. * * * *
+
+May Almighty God forgive her ingratitude and perjury to me, as I from
+my very soul forgive her: and may his grace be with her and bless her
+in all her future life! I can have no nearer idea of the place of
+eternal punishment than what I have felt in my own breast on her
+account. I have tried often to forget her; I have run into all kinds
+of dissipation and riots, mason-meetings, drinking matches, and other
+mischief, to drive her out of my head, but all in vain. And now for a
+grand cure; the ship is on her way home that is to take me out to
+Jamaica; and then, farewell dear old Scotland! and farewell dear
+ungrateful Jean! for never never will I see you more.
+
+You will have heard that I am going to commence poet in print; and to
+morrow my works go to the press. I expect it will be a volume of about
+two hundred pages--it is just the last foolish action I intend to do;
+and then turn a wise man as fast as possible.
+
+Believe me to be, dear Brice,
+
+Your friend and well-wisher,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXI.
+
+
+TO MR. ROBERT AIKEN.
+
+[This letter was written under great distress of mind. That separation
+which Burns records in "The Lament," had, unhappily, taken place
+between him and Jean Armour, and it would appear, that for a time at
+least a coldness ensued between the poet and the patron, occasioned,
+it is conjectured, by that fruitful subject of sorrow and disquiet.
+The letter, I regret to say, is not wholly here.]
+
+[_Ayrshire_, 1786.]
+
+SIR,
+
+I was with Wilson, my printer, t'other day, and settled all our
+by-gone matters between us. After I had paid him all demands, I made
+him the offer of the second edition, on the hazard of being paid out
+of the first and readiest, which he declines. By his account, the
+paper of a thousand copies would cost me about twenty-seven pounds,
+and the printing about fifteen or sixteen: he offers to agree to this
+for the printing, if I will advance for the paper, but this, you know,
+is out of my power; so farewell hopes of a second edition till I grow
+rich! an epoch which I think will arrive at the payment of the
+British national debt.
+
+There is scarcely anything hurts me so much in being disappointed of
+my second edition, as not having it in my power to show my gratitude
+to Mr. Ballantyne, by publishing my poem of "The Brigs of Ayr." I
+would detest myself as a wretch, if I thought I were capable in a very
+long life of forgetting the honest, warm, and tender delicacy with
+which he enters into my interests. I am sometimes pleased with myself
+in my greateful sensations; but I believe, on the whole, I have very
+little merit in it, as my gratitude is not a virtue, the consequence
+of reflection; but sheerly the instinctive emotion of my heart, too
+inattentive to allow worldly maxims and views to settle into selfish
+habits. I have been feeling all the various rotations and movements
+within, respecting the excise. There are many things plead strongly
+against it; the uncertainty of getting soon into business; the
+consequences of my follies, which may perhaps make it impracticable
+for me to stay at home; and besides I have for some time been pining
+under secret wretchedness, from causes which you pretty well know--the
+pang of disappointment, the sting of pride, with some wandering stabs
+of remorse, which never fail to settle on my vitals like vultures,
+when attention is not called away by the calls of society, or the
+vagaries of the muse. Even in the hour of social mirth, my gayety is
+the madness of an intoxicated criminal under the hands of the
+executioner. All these reasons urge me to go abroad, and to all these
+reasons I have only one answer--the feelings of a father. This, in the
+present mood I am in, overbalances everything that can be laid in the
+scale against it. * * * *
+
+You may perhaps think it an extravagant fancy, but it is a sentiment
+which strikes home to my very soul: though sceptical in some points of
+our current belief, yet, I think, I have every evidence for the
+reality of a life beyond the stinted bourne of our present existence;
+if so, then, how should I, in the presence of that tremendous Being,
+the Author of existence, how should I meet the reproaches of those who
+stand to me in the dear relation of children, whom I deserted in the
+smiling innocency of helpless infancy? O, thou great unknown
+Power!--thou almighty God! who has lighted up reason in my breast, and
+blessed me with immortality!--I have frequently wandered from that
+order and regularity necessary for the perfection of thy works, yet
+thou hast never left me nor forsaken me! * * * *
+
+Since I wrote the foregoing sheet, I have seen something of the storm
+of mischief thickening over my folly-devoted head. Should you, my
+friends, my benefactors, be successful in your applications for me,
+perhaps it may not be in my power, in that way, to reap the fruit of
+your friendly efforts. What I have written in the preceding pages, is
+the settled tenor of my present resolution; but should inimical
+circumstances forbid me closing with your kind offer, or enjoying it
+only threaten to entail farther misery-- * * * *
+
+To tell the truth, I have little reason for complaint; as the world,
+in general, has been kind to me fully up to my deserts. I was, for
+some time past, fast getting into the pining, distrustful snarl of the
+misanthrope. I saw myself alone, unlit for the struggle of life,
+shrinking at every rising cloud in the chance-directed atmosphere of
+fortune, while all defenceless I looked about in vain for a cover. It
+never occurred to me, at least never with the force it deserved, that
+this world is a busy scene, and man, a creature destined for a
+progressive struggle; and that, however I might possess a warm heart
+and inoffensive manners (which last, by the by, was rather more than I
+could well boast); still, more than these passive qualities, there was
+something to be done. When all my school-fellows and youthful compeers
+(those misguided few excepted who joined, to use a Gentoo phrase, the
+"hallachores" of the human race) were striking off with eager hope and
+earnest intent, in some one or other of the many paths of busy life, I
+was "standing idle in the market-place," or only left the chase of the
+butterfly from flower to flower, to hunt fancy from whim to
+whim. * * * *
+
+You see, Sir, that if to know one's errors were a probability of
+mending them, I stand a fair chance; but according to the reverend
+Westminster divines, though conviction must precede conversion, it is
+very far from always implying it. * * * *
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXII.
+
+
+TO JOHN RICHMOND,
+
+EDINBURGH.
+
+[The minister who took upon him to pronounce Burns a single man, as he
+intimates in this letter, was the Rev. Mr. Auld, of Mauchline: that
+the law of the land and the law of the church were at variance on the
+subject no one can deny.]
+
+_Mossgiel_, 9_th July_, 1786.
+
+MY DEAR FRIEND,
+
+With the sincerest grief I read your letter. You are truly a son of
+misfortune. I shall be extremely anxious to hear from you how your
+health goes on; if it is in any way re-establishing, or if Leith
+promises well; in short, how you feel in the inner man.
+
+No news worth anything: only godly Bryan was in the inquisition
+yesterday, and half the country-side as witness against him. He still
+stands out steady and denying: but proof was led yesternight of
+circumstances highly suspicious: almost _de facto_ one of the servant
+girls made faith that she upon a time rashly entered the house--to
+speak in your cant, "in the hour of cause."
+
+I have waited on Armour since her return home; not from any the least
+view of reconciliation, but merely to ask for her health and--to you I
+will confess it--from a foolish hankering fondness--very ill placed
+indeed. The mother forbade me the house, nor did Jean show the
+penitence that might have been expected. However, the priest, I am
+informed, will give me a certificate as a single man, if I comply with
+the rules of the church, which for that very reason I intend to do.
+
+I am going to put on sack-cloth and ashes this day. I am indulged so
+far as to appear in my own seat. _Peccavi, pater, miserere mei._ My
+book will be ready in a fortnight. If you have any subscribers, return
+them by Connel. The Lord stand with the righteous: amen, amen.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXIII.
+
+
+TO JOHN BALLANTYNE,
+
+OF AYR.
+
+[There is a plain account in this letter of the destruction of the
+lines of marriage which united, as far as a civil contract in a manner
+civil can, the poet and Jean Armour. Aiken was consulted, and in
+consequence of his advice, the certificate of marriage was destroyed.]
+
+HONOURED SIR,
+
+My proposals came to hand last night, and knowing that you would wish
+to have it in your power to do me a service as early as anybody, I
+enclose you half a sheet of them. I must consult you, first
+opportunity, on the propriety of sending my quondam friend, Mr. Aiken,
+a copy. If he is now reconciled to my character as an honest man, I
+would do it with all my soul; but I would not be beholden to the
+noblest being ever God created, if he imagined me to be a rascal.
+Apropos, old Mr. Armour prevailed with him to mutilate that unlucky
+paper yesterday. Would you believe it? though I had not a hope, nor
+even a wish, to make her mine after her conduct; yet, when he told me
+the names were all out of the paper, my heart died within me, and he
+cut my veins with the news. Perdition seize her falsehood!
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXIV.
+
+
+TO MR. DAVID BRICE.
+
+SHOEMAKER, GLASGOW.
+
+[The letters of Burns at the sad period of his life are full of his
+private sorrows. Had Jean Armour been left to the guidance of her own
+heart, the story of her early years would have been brighter.]
+
+_Mossgiel, 17th July, 1786._
+
+I have been so throng printing my Poems, that I could scarcely find as
+much time as to write to you. Poor Armour is come back again to
+Mauchline, and I went to call for her, and her mother forbade me the
+house, nor did she herself express much sorrow for what she has done.
+I have already appeared publicly in church, and was indulged in the
+liberty of standing in my own seat. I do this to get a certificate as
+a bachelor, which Mr. Auld has promised me. I am now fixed to go for
+the West Indies in October. Jean and her friends insisted much that
+she should stand along with me in the kirk, but the minister would not
+allow it, which bred a great trouble I assure you, and I am blamed as
+the cause of it, though I am sure I am innocent; but I am very much
+pleased, for all that, not to have had her company. I have no news to
+tell you that I remember. I am really happy to hear of your welfare,
+and that you are so well in Glasgow. I must certainly see you before I
+leave the country. I shall expect to hear from you soon, and am,
+
+Dear Brice,
+
+Yours,--R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXV.
+
+
+TO MR. JOHN RICHMOND.
+
+[When this letter was written the poet was skulking from place to
+place: the merciless pack of the law had been uncoupled at his heels.
+Mr. Armour did not wish to imprison, but to drive him from the
+country.]
+
+_Old Rome Forest, 30th July, 1786._
+
+MY DEAR RICHMOND,
+
+My hour is now come--you and I will never meet in Britain more. I have
+orders within three weeks at farthest, to repair aboard the Nancy,
+Captain Smith, from Clyde to Jamaica, and call at Antigua. This,
+except to our friend Smith, whom God long preserve, is a secret about
+Mauchline. Would you believe it? Armour has got a warrant to throw me
+in jail till I find security for an enormous sum. This they keep an
+entire secret, but I got it by a channel they little dream of; and I
+am wandering from one friend's house to another, and, like a true son
+of the gospel, "have nowhere to lay my head." I know you will pour an
+execration on her head, but spare the poor, ill-advised girl, for my
+sake; though may all the furies that rend the injured, enraged lover's
+bosom, await her mother until her latest hour! I write in a moment of
+rage, reflecting on my miserable situation--exiled, abandoned,
+forlorn. I can write no more--let me hear from you by the return of
+coach. I will write you ere I go.
+
+I am dear Sir,
+
+Yours, here and hereafter,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXVI.
+
+
+TO MR. ROBERT MUIR,
+
+KILMARNOCK.
+
+[Burns never tried to conceal either his joys or his sorrows: he sent
+copies of his favorite pieces, and intimations of much that befel him
+to his chief friends and comrades--this brief note was made to carry
+double.]
+
+_Mossgiel, Friday noon._
+
+MY FRIEND, MY BROTHER,
+
+Warm recollection of an absent friend presses so hard upon my heart,
+that I send him the prefixed bagatelle (the Calf), pleased with the
+thought that it will greet the man of my bosom, and be a kind of
+distant language of friendship.
+
+You will have heard that poor Armour has repaid me double. A very fine
+boy and a girl have awakened a thought and feelings that thrill, some
+with tender pressure and some with foreboding anguish, through my
+soul.
+
+The poem was nearly an extemporaneous production, on a wager with Mr.
+Hamilton, that I would not produce a poem on the subject in a given
+time.
+
+If you think it worth while, read it to Charles and Mr. W. Parker, and
+if they choose a copy of it, it is at their service, as they are men
+whose friendship I shall be proud to claim, both in this world and
+that which is to come.
+
+I believe all hopes of staying at home will be abortive, but more of
+this when, in the latter part of next week, you shall be troubled with
+a visit from,
+
+My dear Sir,
+
+Your most devoted,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXVII.
+
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP,
+
+OF DUNLOP.
+
+[Mrs. Dunlop was a poetess, and had the blood of the Wallaces in her
+veins: though she disliked the irregularities of the poet, she scorned
+to got into a fine moral passion about follies which could not be
+helped, and continued her friendship to the last of his life.]
+
+_Ayrshire_, 1786.
+
+MADAM,
+
+I am truly sorry I was not at home yesterday, when I was so much
+honoured with your order for my copies, and incomparably more by the
+handsome compliments you are pleased to pay my poetic abilities. I am
+fully persuaded that there is not any class of mankind so feelingly
+alive to the titillations of applause as the sons of Parnassus: nor is
+it easy to conceive how the heart of the poor bard dances with
+rapture, when those, whose character in life gives them a right to be
+polite judges, honour him with their approbation. Had you been
+thoroughly acquainted with me, Madam, you could not have touched my
+darling heart-chord more sweetly than by noticing my attempts to
+celebrate your illustrious ancestor, the Saviour of his Country.
+
+    "Great patriot hero! ill-requited chief!"[160]
+
+The first book I met with in my early years, which I perused with
+pleasure, was, "The Life Of Hannibal;" the next was, "The History of
+Sir William Wallace:" for several of my earlier years I had few other
+authors; and many a solitary hour have I stole out, after the
+laborious vocations of the day, to shed a tear over their glorious,
+but unfortunate stories. In those boyish days I remember, in
+particular, being struck with that part of Wallace's story where these
+lines occur--
+
+    "Syne to the Leglen wood, when it was late,
+    To make a silent and safe retreat."
+
+I chose a fine summer Sunday, the only day my line of life allowed,
+and walked half a dozen of miles to pay my respects to the Leglen
+wood, with as much devout enthusiasm as ever pilgrim did to Loretto;
+and, as I explored every den and dell where I could suppose my heroic
+countryman to have lodged, I recollect (for even then I was a rhymer)
+that my heart glowed with a wish to be able to make a song on him in
+some measure equal to his merits.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 160: Thomson.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXVIII.
+
+
+TO MR. JOHN KENNEDY.
+
+[It is a curious chapter in the life of Burns to count the number of
+letters which he wrote, the number of fine poems he composed, and the
+number of places which he visited in the unhappy summer and autumn of
+1786.]
+
+_Kilmarnock, August_, 1786.
+
+MY DEAR SIR,
+
+Your truly facetious epistle of the 3d inst. gave me much
+entertainment. I was sorry I had not the pleasure of seeing you as I
+passed your way, but we shall bring up all our lee way on Wednesday,
+the 16th current, when I hope to have it in my power to call on you
+and take a kind, very probably a last adieu, before I go for Jamaica;
+and I expect orders to repair to Greenock every day.--I have at last
+made my public appearance, and am solemnly inaugurated into the
+numerous class.--Could I have got a carrier, you should have had a
+score of vouchers for my authorship; but now you have them, let them
+speak for themselves.--
+
+    Farewell, my dear friend! may guid luck hit you,
+    And 'mang her favourites admit you!
+    If e'er Detraction shore to smit you,
+                          May nane believe him!
+    And ony de'il that thinks to get you,
+                          Good Lord deceive him.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXIX.
+
+
+TO MR. JAMES BURNESS,
+
+MONTROSE.
+
+[The good and generous James Burness, of Montrose, was ever ready to
+rejoice with his cousin's success or sympathize with his sorrows, but
+he did not like the change which came over the old northern surname of
+Burness, when the bard modified it into Burns: the name now a rising
+one in India, is spelt Burnes.]
+
+_Mossgiel, Tuesday noon, Sept. 26, 1786._
+
+MY DEAR SIR,
+
+I this moment receive yours--receive it with the honest hospitable
+warmth of a friend's welcome. Whatever comes from you wakens always up
+the better blood about my heart, which your kind little recollections
+of my parental friends carries as far as it will go. 'Tis there that
+man is blest! 'Tis there, my friend, man feels a consciousness of
+something within him above the trodden clod! The grateful reverence to
+the hoary (earthly) author of his being--the burning glow when he
+clasps the woman of his soul to his bosom--the tender yearnings of
+heart for the little angels to whom he has given existence--these
+nature has poured in milky streams about the human heart; and the man
+who never rouses them to action, by the inspiring influences of their
+proper objects, loses by far the most pleasurable part of his
+existence.
+
+My departure is uncertain, but I do not think it will be till after
+harvest. I will be on very short allowance of time indeed, if I do not
+comply with your friendly invitation. When it will be I don't know,
+but if I can make my wish good, I will endeavour to drop you a line
+some time before. My best compliments to Mrs. ----; I should [be]
+equally mortified should I drop in when she is abroad, but of that I
+suppose there is little chance.
+
+What I have wrote heaven knows; I have not time to review it; so
+accept of it in the beaten way of friendship. With the ordinary
+phrase--perhaps rather more than the ordinary sincerity,
+
+I am, dear Sir,
+
+Ever yours,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXX.
+
+
+TO MISS ALEXANDER.
+
+[This letter, Robert Chambers says, concluded with requesting Miss
+Alexander to allow the poet to print the song which it enclosed, in a
+second edition of his Poems. Her neglect in not replying to this
+request is a very good poetic reason for his wrath. Many of Burns's
+letters have been printed, it is right to say, from the rough drafts
+found among the poet's papers at his death. This is one.]
+
+_Mossgiel, 18th Nov. 1786._
+
+MADAM,
+
+Poets are such outre beings, so much the children of wayward fancy and
+capricious whim, that I believe the world generally allows them a
+larger latitude in the laws of propriety, than the sober sons of
+judgment and prudence. I mention this as an apology for the liberties
+that a nameless stranger has taken with you in the enclosed poem,
+which he begs leave to present you with. Whether it has poetical merit
+any way worthy of the theme, I am not the proper judge; but it is the
+best my abilities can produce; and what to a good heart will, perhaps,
+be a superior grace, it is equally sincere as fervent.
+
+The scenery was nearly taken from real life, though I dare say, Madam,
+you do not recollect it, as I believe you scarcely noticed the poetic
+reveur as he wandered by you. I had roved out as chance directed, in
+the favourite haunts of my muse on the banks of the Ayr, to view
+nature in all the gayety of the vernal year. The evening sun was
+flaming over the distant western hills; not a breath stirred the
+crimson opening blossom, or the verdant spreading leaf. It was a
+golden moment for a poetic heart. I listened to the feathered
+warblers, pouring their harmony on every hand, with a congenial
+kindred regard, and frequently turned out of my path, lest I should
+disturb their little songs, or frighten them to another station.
+Surely, said I to myself, he must be a wretch indeed, who, regardless
+of your harmonious endeavour to please him, can eye your elusive
+flights to discover your secret recesses, and to rob you of all the
+property nature gives you--your dearest comforts, your helpless
+nestlings. Even the hoary hawthorn twig that shot across the way, what
+heart at such a time but must have been interested in its welfare, and
+wished it preserved from the rudely-browsing cattle, or the withering
+eastern blast? Such was the scene,--and such the hour, when, in a
+corner of my prospect, I spied one of the fairest pieces of nature's
+workmanship that ever crowned a poetic landscape or met a poet's eye,
+those visionary bards excepted, who hold commerce with aerial beings!
+Had Calumny and Villany taken my walk, they had at that moment sworn
+eternal peace with such an object.
+
+What an hour of inspiration for a poet! It would have raised plain
+dull historic prose into metaphor measure.
+
+The enclosed song was the work of my return home: and perhaps it but
+poorly answers what might have been expected from such a scene.
+
+I have the honour to be,
+
+Madam,
+
+Your most obedient and very
+
+humble Servant,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXXI.
+
+
+TO MRS. STEWART,
+
+OF STAIR AND AFTON.
+
+[Mrs. Stewart, of Stair and Afton, was the first person of note in the
+West who had the taste to see and feel the genius of Burns. He used to
+relate how his heart fluttered when he first walked into the parlour
+of the towers of Stair, to hear the lady's opinion of some of his
+songs.]
+
+[1786]
+
+MADAM,
+
+The hurry of my preparations for going abroad has hindered me from
+performing my promise so soon as I intended. I have here sent you a
+parcel of songs, &c., which never made their appearance, except to a
+friend or two at most. Perhaps some of them may be no great
+entertainment to you, but of that I am far from being an adequate
+judge. The song to the tune of "Ettrick Banks" [The bonnie lass of
+Ballochmyle] you will easily see the impropriety of exposing much,
+even in manuscript. I think, myself, it has some merit: both as a
+tolerable description of one of nature's sweetest scenes, a July
+evening, and one of the finest pieces of nature's workmanship, the
+finest indeed we know anything of, an amiable, beautiful young
+woman;[161] but I have no common friend to procure me that permission,
+without which I would not dare to spread the copy.
+
+I am quite aware, Madam, what task the world would assign me in this
+letter. The obscure bard, when any of the great condescend to take
+notice of him, should heap the altar with the incense of flattery.
+Their high ancestry, their own great and godlike qualities and
+actions, should be recounted with the most exaggerated description.
+This, Madam, is a task for which I am altogether unfit. Besides a
+certain disqualifying pride of heart, I know nothing of your
+connexions in life, and have no access to where your real character
+is to be found--the company of your compeers: and more, I am afraid
+that even the most refined adulation is by no means the road to your
+good opinion.
+
+One feature of your character I shall ever with grateful pleasure
+remember;--the reception I got when I had the honour of waiting on you
+at Stair. I am little acquainted with politeness, but I know a good
+deal of benevolence of temper and goodness of heart. Surely did those
+in exalted stations know how happy they could make some classes of
+their inferiors by condescension and affability, they would never
+stand so high, measuring out with every look the height of their
+elevation, but condescend as sweetly as did Mrs. Stewart of Stair.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 161: Miss Alexander.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXXII.
+
+
+IN THE NAME OF THE NINE. AMEN.
+
+[The song or ballad which one of the "Deil's yeld Nowte" was commanded
+to burn, was "Holy Willie's Prayer," it is believed. Currie interprets
+the "Deil's yeld Nowte," to mean old bachelors, which, if right,
+points to some other of his compositions, for purgation by fire.
+Gilbert Burns says it is a scoffing appellation sometimes given to
+sheriff's officers and other executors of the law.]
+
+We, Robert Burns, by virtue of a warrant from Nature, bearing date the
+twenty-fifth day of January, Anno Domini one thousand seven hundred
+and fifty-nine,[162] Poet Laureat, and Bard in Chief, in and over the
+districts and countries of Kyle, Cunningham, and Carrick, of old
+extent, To our trusty and well-beloved William Chalmers and John
+M'Adam, students and practitioners in the ancient and mysterious
+science of confounding right and wrong.
+
+RIGHT TRUSTY:
+
+Be it known unto you that whereas in the course of our care and
+watchings over the order and police of all and sundry the
+manufacturers, retainers, and venders of poesy; bards, poets,
+poetasters, rhymers, jinglers, songsters, ballad-singers, &c. &c. &c.
+&c., male and female--We have discovered a certain nefarious,
+abominable, and wicked song or ballad, a copy whereof We have here
+enclosed; Our Will therefore is, that Ye pitch upon and appoint the
+most execrable individual of that most execrable species, known by the
+appellation, phrase, and nick-name of The Deil's Yeld Nowte: and after
+having caused him to kindle a fire at the Cross of Ayr, ye shall, at
+noontide of the day, put into the said wretch's merciless hands the
+said copy of the said nefarious and wicked song, to be consumed by
+fire in the presence of all beholders, in abhorrence of, and terrorem
+to, all such compositions and composers. And this in nowise leave ye
+undone, but have it executed in every point as this our mandate bears,
+before the twenty-fourth current, when in person We hope to applaud
+your faithfulness and zeal.
+
+Given at Mauchline this twentieth day of November, Anno Domini one
+thousand seven hundred and eighty-six.
+
+God save the Bard!
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 162: His birth-day.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXXIII.
+
+
+TO MR. ROBERT MUIR.
+
+[The expedition to Edinburgh, to which this short letter alludes, was
+undertaken, it is needless to say, in consequence of a warm and
+generous commendation of the genius of Burns written by Dr. Blacklock,
+to the Rev. Mr. Lawrie, and communicated by Gavin Hamilton to the
+poet, when he was on the wing for the West Indies.]
+
+_Mossgiel, 18th Nov., 1786._
+
+MY DEAR SIR,
+
+Enclosed you have "Tam Samson," as I intend to print him. I am
+thinking for my Edinburgh expedition on Monday or Tuesday, come
+se'ennight, for pos. I will see you on Tuesday first.
+
+I am ever,
+
+Your much indebted,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXXIV.
+
+
+TO DR. MACKENZIE,
+
+MAUCHLINE;
+
+ENCLOSING THE VERSES ON DINING WITH LORD DAER.
+
+[To the kind and venerable Dr. Mackenzie, the poet was indebted for
+some valuable friendships, and his biographers for some valuable
+information respecting the early days of Burns.]
+
+_Wednesday Morning._
+
+DEAR SIR,
+
+I never spent an afternoon among great folks with half that pleasure
+as when, in company with you, I had the honour of paying my devoirs to
+the plain, honest, worthy man, the professor. [Dugald Stewart.] I
+would be delighted to see him perform acts of kindness and friendship,
+though I were not the object; he does it with such a grace. I think
+his character, divided into ten parts, stands thus--four parts
+Socrates--four parts Nathaniel--and two parts Shakspeare's Brutus.
+
+The foregoing verses were really extempore, but a little corrected
+since. They may entertain you a little with the help of that
+partiality with which you are so good as to favour the performances
+of,
+
+Dear Sir,
+
+Your very humble servant,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXXV.
+
+
+TO GAVIN HAMILTON, ESQ.,
+
+MAUCHLINE.
+
+[From Gavin Hamilton Burns and his brother took the farm of Mossgiel:
+the landlord was not slow in perceiving the genius of Robert: he had
+him frequently at his table, and the poet repaid this notice by verse
+not likely soon to die.]
+
+Edinburgh, Dec. 7th, 1786.
+
+HONOURED SIR,
+
+I have paid every attention to your commands, but can only say what
+perhaps you will have heard before this reach you, that Muirkirklands
+were bought by a John Gordon, W.S., but for whom I know not;
+Mauchlands, Haugh, Miln, &c., by a Frederick Fotheringham, supposed to
+be for Ballochmyle Laird, and Adamhill and Shawood were bought for
+Oswald's folks.--This is so imperfect an account, and will be so late
+ere it reach you, that were it not to discharge my conscience I would
+not trouble you with it; but after all my diligence I could make it no
+sooner nor better.
+
+For my own affairs, I am in a fair way of becoming as eminent as
+Thomas a Kempis or John Bunyan; and you may expect henceforth to see
+my birth-day inserted among the wonderful events, in the Poor Robin's
+and Aberdeen Almanacks, along with the Black Monday, and the battle of
+Bothwell bridge.--My Lord Glencairn and the Dean of Faculty, Mr. H.
+Erskine, have taken me under their wing; and by all probability I
+shall soon be the tenth worthy, and the eighth wise man in the world.
+Through my lord's influence it is inserted in the records of the
+Caledonian Hunt, that they universally, one and all, subscribe for the
+second edition.--My subscription bills come out to-morrow, and you
+shall have some of them next post.--I have met, in Mr. Dalrymple, of
+Orangefield, what Solomon emphatically calls "a friend that sticketh
+closer than a brother."--The warmth with which he interests himself in
+my affairs is of the same enthusiastic kind which you, Mr. Aiken, and
+the few patrons that took notice of my earlier poetic days, showed for
+the poor unlucky devil of a poet.
+
+I always remember Mrs. Hamilton and Miss Kennedy in my poetic prayers,
+but you both in prose and verse.
+
+    May cauld ne'er catch you but a hap,
+    Nor hunger but in plenty's lap!
+                   Amen!
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXXVI.
+
+
+TO JOHN BALLANTYNE, ESQ.,
+
+BANKER, AYR.
+
+[This is the second letter which Burns wrote, after his arrival in
+Edinburgh, and it is remarkable because it distinctly imputes his
+introduction to the Earl of Glencairn, to Dalrymple, of Orangefield;
+though he elsewhere says this was done by Mr. Dalzell;--perhaps both
+those gentlemen had a hand in this good deed.]
+
+_Edinburgh, 13th Dec. 1786._
+
+MY HONOURED FRIEND,
+
+I would not write you till I could have it in my power to give you
+some account of myself and my matters, which, by the by, is often no
+easy task.--I arrived here on Tuesday was se'ennight, and have
+suffered ever since I came to town with a miserable headache and
+stomach complaint, but am now a good deal better.--I have found a
+worthy warm friend in Mr. Dalrymple, of Orangefield, who introduced me
+to Lord Glencairn, a man whose worth and brotherly kindness to me, I
+shall remember when time shall be no more.--By his interest it is
+passed in the "Caledonian Hunt," and entered in their books, that they
+are to take each a copy of the second edition, for which they are to
+pay one guinea.--I have been introduced to a good many of the
+noblesse, but my avowed patrons and patronesses are the Duchess of
+Gordon--the Countess of Glencairn, with my Lord, and Lady
+Betty[163]--the Dean of Faculty--Sir John Whitefoord--I have likewise
+warm friends among the literati; Professors Stewart, Blair, and Mr.
+Mackenzie--the Man of Feeling.--An unknown hand left ten guineas for
+the Ayrshire bard with Mr. Sibbald, which I got.--I since have
+discovered my generous unknown friend to be Patrick Miller, Esq.,
+brother to the Justice Clerk; and drank a glass of claret with him, by
+invitation, at his own house, yesternight. I am nearly agreed with
+Creech to print my book, and I suppose I will begin on Monday. I will
+send a subscription bill or two, next post; when I intend writing my
+first kind patron, Mr. Aiken. I saw his son to-day, and he is very
+well.
+
+Dugald Stewart, and some of my learned friends, put me in the
+periodical paper, called The Lounger,[164] a copy of which I here
+enclose you.--I was, Sir, when I was first honoured with your notice,
+too obscure; now I tremble lest I should be ruined by being dragged
+too suddenly into the glare of polite and learned observation.
+
+I shall certainly, my ever honoured patron, write you an account of my
+every step; and better health and more spirits may enable me to make
+it something better than this stupid matter-of-fact epistle.
+
+I have the honour to be,
+
+Good Sir,
+
+Your ever grateful humble servant,
+
+R. B.
+
+If any of my friends write me, my direction is, care of Mr. Creech,
+bookseller.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 163: Lady Betty Cunningham.]
+
+[Footnote 164: The paper here alluded to, was written by Mr. Mackenzie,
+the celebrated author of "The Man of Feeling."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXXVII.
+
+
+TO MR. ROBERT MUIR.
+
+["Muir, thy weaknesses," says Burns, writing of this gentleman to Mrs.
+Dunlop, "thy weaknesses were the aberrations of human nature; but thy
+heart glowed with everything generous, manly, and noble: and if ever
+emanation from the All-good Being animated a human form, it was
+thine."]
+
+_Edinburgh, Dec. 20th, 1786._
+
+MY DEAR FRIEND,
+
+I have just time for the carrier, to tell you that I received your
+letter; of which I shall say no more but what a lass of my
+acquaintance said of her bastard wean; she said she "did na ken wha
+was the father exactly, but she suspected it was some o' the bonny
+blackguard smugglers, for it was like them." So I only say your
+obliging epistle was like you. I enclose you a parcel of subscription
+bills. Your affair of sixty copies is also like you; but it would not
+be like me to comply.
+
+Your friend's notion of my life has put a crotchet in my head of
+sketching it in some future epistle to you. My compliments to Charles
+and Mr. Parker.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXXVIII.
+
+
+TO MR. WILLIAM CHALMERS,
+
+WRITER, AYR.
+
+[William Chalmers drew out the assignment of the copyright of Burns's
+Poems, in favour of his brother Gilbert, and for the maintenance of
+his natural child, when engaged to go to the West Indies, in the
+autumn of 1786.]
+
+_Edinburgh, Dec. 27, 1786._
+
+MY DEAR FRIEND,
+
+I confess I have sinned the sin for which there is hardly any
+forgiveness--ingratitude to friendship--in not writing you sooner; but
+of all men living, I had intended to have sent you an entertaining
+letter; and by all the plodding, stupid powers, that in nodding,
+conceited majesty, preside over the dull routine of business--a
+heavily solemn oath this!--I am, and have been, ever since I came to
+Edinburgh, as unfit to write a letter of humour, as to write a
+commentary on the Revelation of St. John the Divine, who was banished
+to the Isle of Patmos, by the cruel and bloody Domitian, son to
+Vespasian and brother to Titus, both emperors of Rome, and who was
+himself an emperor, and raised the second or third persecution, I
+forget which, against the Christians, and after throwing the said
+Apostle John, brother to the Apostle James, commonly called James the
+Greater, to distinguish him from another James, who was, on some
+account or other, known by the name of James the Less--after throwing
+him into a cauldron of boiling oil, from which he was miraculously
+preserved, he banished the poor son of Zebedee to a desert island in
+the Archipelago, where he was gifted with the second sight, and saw as
+many wild beasts as I have seen since I came to Edinburgh; which, a
+circumstance not very uncommon in story-telling, brings me back to
+where I set out.
+
+To make you some amends for what, before you reach this paragraph, you
+will have suffered, I enclose you two poems I have carded and spun
+since I past Glenbuck.
+
+One blank in the address to Edinburgh--"Fair B----," is heavenly Miss
+Burnet, daughter to Lord Monboddo, at whose house I have had the
+honour to be more than once. There has not been anything nearly like
+her in all the combinations of beauty, grace, and goodness the great
+Creator has formed since Milton's Eve on the first day of her
+existence.
+
+My direction is--care of Andrew Bruce, merchant, Bridge-street.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XXXIX.
+
+
+TO THE EARL OF EGLINTOUN.
+
+[Archibald Montgomery, eleventh Earl of Eglinton, and Colonel Hugh
+Montgomery, of Coilsfield, who succeeded his brother in his titles and
+estates, were patrons, and kind ones, of Burns.]
+
+_Edinburgh, January_ 1787.
+
+MY LORD,
+
+As I have but slender pretensions to philosophy, I cannot rise to the
+exalted ideas of a citizen of the world, but have all those national
+prejudices, which I believe glow peculiarly strong in the breast of a
+Scotchman. There is scarcely anything to which I am so feelingly alive
+as the honour and welfare of my country: and, as a poet, I have no
+higher enjoyment than singing her sons and daughters. Fate had cast my
+station in the veriest shades of life; but never did a heart pant more
+ardently than mine to be distinguished; though, till very lately, I
+looked in vain on every side for a ray of light. It is easy then to
+guess how much I was gratified with the countenance and approbation of
+one of my country's most illustrious sons, when Mr. Wauchope called on
+me yesterday on the part of your lordship. Your munificence, my lord,
+certainly deserves my very grateful acknowledgments; but your
+patronage is a bounty peculiarly suited to my feelings. I am not
+master enough of the etiquette of life to know, whether there be not
+some impropriety in troubling your lordship with my thanks, but my
+heart whispered me to do it. From the emotions of my inmost soul I do
+it. Selfish ingratitude I hope I am incapable of; and mercenary
+servility, I trust, I shall ever have so much honest pride as to
+detest.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XL.
+
+
+TO MR. GAVIN HAMILTON.
+
+[This letter was first published by Hubert Chambers, who considered it
+as closing the enquiry, "was Burns a married man?" No doubt Burns
+thought himself unmarried, and the Rev. Mr. Auld was of the same
+opinion, since he offered him a certificate that he was single: but no
+opinion of priest or lawyer, including the disclamation of Jean
+Armour, and the belief of Burns, could have, in my opinion, barred the
+claim of the children to full legitimacy, according to the law of
+Scotland.]
+
+_Edinburgh, Jan._ 7, 1787.
+
+To tell the truth among friends, I feel a miserable blank in my heart,
+with the want of her, and I don't think I shall ever meet with so
+delicious an armful again. She has her faults; and so have you and I;
+and so has everybody:
+
+    Their tricks and craft hae put me daft;
+      They've ta'en me in and a' that;
+    But clear your decks, and here's the sex,
+      I like the jads for a' that.
+        For a' that and a' that,
+        And twice as muckle's a' that.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I have met with a very pretty girl, a Lothian farmer's daughter, whom
+I have almost persuaded to accompany me to the west country, should I
+ever return to settle there. By the bye, a Lothian farmer is about an
+Ayrshire squire of the lower kind; and I had a most delicious ride
+from Leith to her house yesternight, in a hackney-coach with her
+brother and two sisters, and brother's wife. We had dined altogether
+at a common friend's house in Leith, and danced, drank, and sang till
+late enough. The night was dark, the claret had been good, and I
+thirsty. * * * * *
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XLI.
+
+
+TO JOHN BALLANTYNE, ESQ.
+
+[This letter contains the first intimation that the poet desired to
+resume the labours of the farmer. The old saw of "Willie Gaw's
+Skate," he picked up from his mother, who had a vast collection of
+such sayings.]
+
+_Edinburgh, Jan. 14, 1787._
+
+MY HONOURED FRIEND,
+
+It gives me a secret comfort to observe in myself that I am not yet so
+far gone as Willie Gaw's Skate, "past redemption;" for I have still
+this favourable symptom of grace, that when my conscience, as in the
+case of this letter, tells me I am leaving something undone that I
+ought to do, it teases me eternally till I do it.
+
+I am still "dark as was Chaos"[165] in respect to futurity. My generous
+friend, Mr. Patrick Miller, has been talking with me about a lease of
+some farm or other in an estate called Dalswinton, which he has lately
+bought, near Dumfries. Some life-rented embittering recollections
+whisper me that I will be happier anywhere than in my old
+neighbourhood, but Mr. Miller is no judge of land; and though I dare
+say he means to favour me, yet he may give me, in his opinion, an
+advantageous bargain that may ruin me. I am to take a tour by Dumfries
+as I return, and have promised to meet Mr. Miller on his lands some
+time in May.
+
+I went to a mason-lodge yesternight, where the most Worshipful Grand
+Master Charters, and all the Grand Lodge of Scotland visited. The
+meeting was numerous and elegant; all the different lodges about town
+were present, in all their pomp. The Grand Master, who presided with
+great solemnity and honour to himself as a gentleman and mason, among
+other general toasts, gave "Caledonia, and Caledonia's Bard, Brother
+Burns," which rung through the whole assembly with multiplied honours
+and repeated acclamations. As I had no idea such a thing would happen,
+I was downright thunderstruck, and, trembling in every nerve, made the
+best return in my power. Just as I had finished, some of the grand
+officers said, so loud that I could hear, with a most comforting
+accent, "Very well indeed!" which set me something to rights again.
+
+I have to-day corrected my 152d page. My best good wishes to Mr.
+Aiken.
+
+I am ever,
+
+Dear Sir,
+
+Your much indebted humble servant,
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 165: See Blair's Grave. This was a favourite quotation with
+Burns.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XLII.
+
+
+TO JOHN BALLANTYNE.
+
+[I have not hesitated to insert all letters which show what Burns was
+musing on as a poet, or planning as a man.]
+
+_January_ ----, 1787.
+
+While here I sit, sad and solitary by the side of a fire in a little
+country inn, and drying my wet clothes, in pops a poor fellow of
+sodger, and tells me he is going to Ayr. By heavens! say I to myself,
+with a tide of good spirits which the magic of that sound, Auld Toon
+o' Ayr, conjured up, I will sent my last song to Mr. Ballantyne. Here
+it is--
+
+    Ye flowery banks o' bonnie Doon,
+      How can ye blume sae fair;
+    How can ye chant, ye little birds,
+      And I sae fu' o' care![166]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 166: Song CXXXI.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XLIII.
+
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP.
+
+[The friendship of Mrs. Dunlop purified, while it strengthened the
+national prejudices of Burns.]
+
+_Edinburgh, 15th January_, 1787.
+
+MADAM,
+
+Yours of the 9th current, which I am this moment honoured with, is a
+deep reproach to me for ungrateful neglect. I will tell you the real
+truth, for I am miserably awkward at a fib--I wished to have written
+to Dr. Moore before I wrote to you; but though every day since I
+received yours of December 30th, the idea, the wish to write to him
+has constantly pressed on my thoughts, yet I could not for my soul set
+about it. I know his fame and character, and I am one of "the sons of
+little men." To write him a mere matter-of-fact affair, like a
+merchant's order, would be disgracing the little character I have; and
+to write the author of "The View of Society and Manners" a letter of
+sentiment--I declare every artery runs cold at the thought. I shall
+try, however, to write to him to-morrow or next day. His kind
+interposition in my behalf I have already experienced, as a gentleman
+waited on me the other day, on the part of Lord Eglintoun, with ten
+guineas, by way of subscription for two copies of my next edition.
+
+The word you object to in the mention I have made of my glorious
+countryman and your immortal ancestor, is indeed borrowed from
+Thomson; but it does not strike me us an improper epithet. I
+distrusted my own judgment on your finding fault with it, and applied
+for the opinion of some of the literati here, who honour me with their
+critical strictures, and they all allow it to be proper. The song you
+ask I cannot recollect, and I have not a copy of it. I have not
+composed anything on the great Wallace, except what you have, seen in
+print; and the enclosed, which I will print in this edition. You will
+see I have mentioned some others of the name. When I composed my
+"Vision" long ago, I had attempted a description of Koyle, of which
+the additional stanzas are a part, as it originally stood. My heart
+glows with a wish to be able to do justice to the merits of the
+"Saviour of his Country," which sooner or later I shall at least
+attempt.
+
+You are afraid I shall grow intoxicated with my prosperity as a poet;
+alas! Madam, I know myself and the world too well. I do not mean any
+airs of affected modesty; I am willing to believe that my abilities
+deserve some notice; but in a most enlightened, informed age and
+nation, when poetry is and has been the study of man of the first
+natural genius, aided with all the powers of polite learning, polite
+books, and polite company--to be dragged forth to the full glare of
+learned and polite observation, with all my imperfections of awkward
+rusticity and crude unpolished ideas on my head--I assure you, Madam,
+I do not dissemble when I tell you I tremble for the consequences. The
+novelty of a poet in my obscure situation, without any of those
+advantages which are reckoned necessary for that character, at least
+at this time of day, has raised a partial tide of public notice which
+has borne me to a height, where I am absolutely, feelingly certain, my
+abilities are inadequate to support me; and too surely do I see that
+time when the same tide will leave me, and recede, perhaps, as far
+below the mark of truth. I do not say this in the ridiculous
+affectation of self-abasement and modesty. I have studied myself, and
+know what ground I occupy; and, however a friend or the world may
+differ from me in that particular, I stand for my own opinion, in
+silent resolve, with all the tenaciousness of property. I mention this
+to you once for all to disburthen my mind, and I do not wish to hear
+or say more about it--But,
+
+    "When proud fortune's ebbing tide recedes,"
+
+you will bear me witness, that when my bubble of fame was at the
+highest, I stood unintoxicated with the inebriating cup in my hand,
+looking forward with rueful resolve to the hastening time, when the
+blow of Calumny should dash it to the ground with all the eagerness of
+vengeful triumph.
+
+Your patronizing me and interesting yourself in my fame and character
+as a poet, I rejoice in; it exalts me in my own idea; and whether you
+can or cannot aid me in my subscription is a trifle. Has a paltry
+subscription-bill any charms to the heart of a bard, compared with the
+patronage of the descendant of the immortal Wallace?
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XLIV.
+
+
+TO DR. MOORE.
+
+[Dr. Moore, the accomplished author of Zeluco and father of Sir John
+Moore, interested himself in the fame and fortune of Burns, as soon as
+the publication of his Poems made his name known to the world.]
+
+_Edinburgh, Jan. 1787._
+
+SIR,
+
+Mrs. Dunlop has been so kind as to send me extracts of letters she has
+had from you, where you do the rustic bard the honour of noticing him
+and his works. Those who have felt the anxieties and solicitudes of
+authorship, can only know what pleasure it gives to be noticed in such
+a manner, by judges of the first character. Your criticism, Sir, I
+receive with reverence; only I am sorry they mostly came too late: a
+peccant passage or two that I would certainly have altered, were gone
+to the press.
+
+The hope to be admired for ages, is, in by far the greater part of
+those even who are authors of repute, an unsubstantial dream. For my
+part, my first ambition was, and still my strongest wish is, to please
+my compeers, the rustic inmates of the hamlet, while ever-changing
+language and manners shall allow me to be relished and understood. I
+am very willing to admit that I have some poetical abilities; and as
+few, if any, writers, either moral or poetical, are intimately
+acquainted with the classes of mankind among whom I have chiefly
+mingled, I may have seen men and manners in a different phasis from
+what is common, which may assist originality of thought. Still I know
+very well the novelty of my character has by far the greatest share in
+the learned and polite notice I have lately had; and in a language
+where Pope and Churchill have raised the laugh, and Shenstone and Gray
+drawn the tear; where Thomson and Beattie have painted the landscape,
+and Lyttelton and Collins described the heart, I am not vain enough to
+hope for distinguished poetic fame.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XLV.
+
+
+TO THE REV. G. LAURIE,
+
+NEWMILLS, NEAR KILMARNOCK.
+
+[It has been said in the Life of Burns, that for some time after he
+went to Edinburgh, he did not visit Dr. Blacklock, whose high opinion
+of his genius induced him to try his fortune in that city: it will be
+seen by this letter that he had neglected also, for a time, at least,
+to write to Dr. Laurie, who introduced him to the Doctor.]
+
+_Edinburgh, Feb. 5th, 1787._
+
+REVEREND AND DEAR SIR,
+
+When I look at the date of your kind letter, my heart reproaches me
+severely with ingratitude in neglecting so long to answer it. I will
+not trouble you with any account, by way of apology, of my hurried
+life and distracted attention: do me the justice to believe that my
+delay by no means proceeded from want of respect. I feel, and ever
+shall feel for you the mingled sentiments of esteem for a friend and
+reverence for a father.
+
+I thank you, Sir, with all my soul for your friendly hints, though I
+do not need them so much as my friends are apt to imagine. You are
+dazzled with newspaper accounts and distant reports; but, in reality,
+I have no great temptation to be intoxicated with the cup of
+prosperity. Novelty may attract the attention of mankind awhile; to it
+I owe my present eclat; but I see the time not far distant when the
+popular tide which has borne me to a height of which I am, perhaps,
+unworthy, shall recede with silent celerity, and leave me a barren
+waste of sand, to descend at my leisure to my former station. I do not
+say this in the affectation of modesty; I see the consequence is
+unavoidable, and am prepared for it. I had been at a good deal of
+pains to form a just, impartial estimate of my intellectual powers
+before I came here; I have not added, since I came to Edinburgh,
+anything to the account; and I trust I shall take every atom of it
+back to my shades, the coverts of my unnoticed, early years.
+
+In Dr. Blacklock, whom I see very often, I have found what I would
+have expected in our friend, a clear head and an excellent heart.
+
+By far the most agreeable hours I spend in Edinburgh must be placed to
+the account of Miss Laurie and her piano-forte. I cannot help
+repeating to you and Mrs. Laurie a compliment that Mr. Mackenzie, the
+celebrated "Man of Feeling," paid to Miss Laurie, the other night, at
+the concert. I had come in at the interlude, and sat down by him till
+I saw Miss Laurie in a seat not very distant, and went up to pay my
+respects to her. On my return to Mr. Mackenzie he asked me who she
+was; I told him 'twas the daughter of a reverend friend of mine in the
+west country. He returned, there was something very striking, to his
+idea, in her appearance. On my desiring to know what it was, he was
+pleased to say, "She has a great deal of the elegance of a well-bred
+lady about her, with all the sweet simplicity of a country girl."
+
+My compliments to all the happy inmates of St. Margaret's.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XLVI.
+
+
+TO DR. MOORE.
+
+[In the answer to this letter, Dr. Moore says that the poet was a
+great favourite in his family, and that his youngest son, at
+Winchester school, had translated part of "Halloween" into Latin
+verse, for the benefit of his comrades.]
+
+_Edinburgh, 15th February, 1787._
+
+SIR,
+
+Pardon my seeming neglect in delaying so long to acknowledge the
+honour you have done me, in your kind notice of me, January 23d. Not
+many months ago I knew no other employment than following the plough,
+nor could boast anything higher than a distant acquaintance with a
+country clergyman. Mere greatness never embarrasses me; I have nothing
+to ask from the great, and I do not fear their judgment: but genius,
+polished by learning, and at its proper point of elevation in the eye
+of the world, this of late I frequently meet with, and tremble at its
+approach. I scorn the affectation of seeming modesty to cover
+self-conceit. That I have some merit I do not deny; but I see with
+frequent wringings of heart, that the novelty of my character, and the
+honest national prejudice of my countrymen, have borne me to a height
+altogether untenable to my abilities.
+
+For the honour Miss Williams has done me, please, Sir, return her in
+my name my most grateful thanks. I have more than once thought of
+paying her in kind, but have hitherto quitted the idea in hopeless
+despondency. I had never before heard of her; but the other day I got
+her poems, which for several reasons, some belonging to the head, and
+others the offspring of the heart, give me a great deal of pleasure. I
+have little pretensions to critic lore; there are, I think, two
+characteristic features in her poetry--the unfettered wild flight of
+native genius, and the querulous sombre tenderness of "time-settled
+sorrow."
+
+I only know what pleases me, often without being able to tell why.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XLVII.
+
+
+TO JOHN BALLANTYNE, ESQ.
+
+[The picture from which Beugo engraved the portrait alluded to in this
+letter, was painted by the now venerable Alexander Nasmyth--the eldest
+of living British artists:--it is, with the exception of a profile by
+Miers, the only portrait for which we are quite sure that the poet
+sat.]
+
+_Edinburgh, Feb. 24th, 1787._
+
+MY HONOURED FRIEND,
+
+I will soon be with you now, in guid black prent;--in a week or ten
+days at farthest. I am obliged, against my own wish, to print
+subscribers' names; so if any of my Ayr friends have subscription
+bills, they must be sent in to Creech directly. I am getting my phiz
+done by an eminent engraver, and if it can be ready in time, I will
+appear in my book, looking like all other _fools_ to my title-page.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XLVIII.
+
+
+TO THE EARL OF GLENCAIRN.
+
+[The Earl of Glencairn seems to have refused, from motives of
+delicacy, the request of the poet: the verses, long lost, were at last
+found, and are now, through the kindness of my friend, Major James
+Glencairn Burns, printed with the rest of his eminent father's works.]
+
+_Edinburgh, 1787_
+
+MY LORD,
+
+I wanted to purchase a profile of your lordship, which I was told was
+to be got in town; but I am truly sorry to see that a blundering
+painter has spoiled a "human face divine." The enclosed stanzas I
+intended to have written below a picture or profile of your lordship,
+could I have been so happy as to procure one with anything of a
+likeness.
+
+As I will soon return to my shades, I wanted to have something like a
+material object for my gratitude; I wanted to have it in my power to
+say to a friend, there is my noble patron, my generous benefactor.
+Allow me, my lord, to publish these verses. I conjure your lordship,
+by the honest throe of gratitude, by the generous wish of benevolence,
+by all the powers and feelings which compose the magnanimous mind, do
+not deny me this petition. I owe much to your lordship: and, what has
+not in some other instances always been the case with me, the weight
+of the obligation is a pleasing load. I trust I have a heart as
+independent as your lordship's, than which I can say nothing more; and
+I would not be beholden to favours that would crucify my feelings.
+Your dignified character in life, and manner of supporting that
+character, are flattering to my pride; and I would be jealous of the
+purity of my grateful attachment, where I was under the patronage of
+one of the much favoured sons of fortune.
+
+Almost every poet has celebrated his patrons, particularly when they
+were names dear to fame, and illustrious in their country; allow me,
+then, my lord, if you think the verses have intrinsic merit, to tell
+the world how much I have the honour to be,
+
+Your lordship's highly indebted,
+
+And ever grateful humble servant,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XLIX.
+
+
+TO THE EARL OF BUCHAN.
+
+[The Earl of Buchan, a man of talent, but more than tolerably vain,
+advised Burns to visit the battle-fields and scenes celebrated in song
+on the Scottish border, with the hope, perhaps, that he would drop a
+few of his happy verses in Dryburgh Abbey, the residence of his
+lordship.]
+
+MY LORD,
+
+The honour your lordship has done me, by your notice and advice in
+yours of the 1st instant, I shall ever gratefully remember:--
+
+   "Praise from thy lips, 'tis mine with joy to boast,
+    They best can give it who deserve it most."[167]
+
+Your lordship touches the darling chord of my heart when you advise me
+to fire my muse at Scottish story and Scotch scenes. I wish for
+nothing more than to make a leisurely pilgrimage through my native
+country; to sit and muse on those once hard-contended fields, where
+Caledonia, rejoicing, saw her bloody lion borne through broken ranks
+to victory and fame; and, catching the inspiration, to pour the
+deathless names in song. But, my lord, in the midst of these
+enthusiastic reveries, a long-visaged, dry, moral-looking phantom
+strides across my imagination, and pronounces these emphatic words:--
+
+"I, Wisdom, dwell with Prudence. Friend, I do not come to open the
+ill-closed wounds of your follies and misfortunes, merely to give you
+pain: I wish through these wounds to imprint a lasting lesson on your
+heart. I will not mention how many of my salutary advices you have
+despised: I have given you line upon line and precept upon precept;
+and while I was chalking out to you the straight way to wealth and
+character, with audacious effrontery you have zigzagged across the
+path, contemning me to my face: you know the consequences. It is not
+yet three months since home was so hot for you that you were on the
+wing for the western shore of the Atlantic, not to make a fortune, but
+to hide your misfortune.
+
+"Now that your dear-loved Scotia puts it in your power to return to
+the situation of your forefathers, will you follow these will-o'-wisp
+meteors of fancy and whim, till they bring you once more to the brink
+of ruin? I grant that the utmost ground you can occupy is but half a
+step from the veriest poverty; but still it is half a step from it. If
+all that I can urge be ineffectual, let her who seldom calls to you in
+vain, let the call of pride prevail with you. You know how you feel at
+the iron gripe of ruthless oppression: you know how you bear the
+galling sneer of contumelious greatness. I hold you out the
+conveniences, the comforts of life, independence, and character, on
+the one hand; I tender you civility, dependence, and wretchedness, on
+the other. I will not insult your understanding by bidding you make a
+choice."
+
+This, my lord, is unanswerable. I must return to my humble station,
+and woo my rustic muse in my wonted way at the plough-tail. Still, my
+lord, while the drops of life warm my heart, gratitude to that
+dear-loved country in which I boast my birth, and gratitude to those
+her distinguished sons who have honoured me so much with their
+patronage and approbation, shall, while stealing through my humble
+shades; ever distend my bosom, and at times, as now, draw forth the
+swelling tear.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 167: Imitated from Pope's Eloisa to Abelard.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+L.
+
+
+TO MR. JAMES CANDLISH.
+
+[James Candlish, a student of medicine, was well acquainted with the
+poetry of Lowe, author of that sublime lyric, "Mary's Dream," and at
+the request of Burns sent Lowe's classic song of "Pompey's Ghost," to
+the Musical Museum.]
+
+_Edinburgh, March 21, 1787._
+
+MY EVER DEAR OLD ACQUAINTANCE,
+
+I was equally surprised and pleased at your letter, though I dare say
+you will think by my delaying so long to write to you that I am so
+drowned in the intoxication of good fortune as to be indifferent to
+old, and once dear connexions. The truth is, I was determined to write
+a good letter, full of argument, amplification, erudition, and, as
+Bayes says, _all that._ I thought of it, and thought of it, and, by my
+soul, I could not; and, lest you should mistake the cause of my
+silence, I just sit down to tell you so. Don't give yourself credit,
+though, that the strength of your logic scares me: the truth is, I
+never mean to meet you on that ground at all. You have shown me one
+thing which was to be demonstrated: that strong pride of reasoning,
+with a little affectation of singularity, may mislead the best of
+hearts. I likewise, since you and I were first acquainted, in the
+pride of despising old woman's stories, ventured in "the daring path
+Spinosa trod;" but experience of the weakness, not the strength of
+human powers, made me glad to grasp at revealed religion.
+
+I am still, in the Apostle Paul's phrase, "The old man with his
+deeds," as when we were sporting about the "Lady Thorn." I shall be
+four weeks here yet at least; and so I shall expect to hear from you;
+welcome sense, welcome nonsense.
+
+I am, with the warmest sincerity,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LI.
+
+
+TO ----.
+
+[The name of the friend to whom this letter was addressed is still
+unknown, though known to Dr. Currie. The Esculapian Club of Edinburgh
+have, since the death of Burns, added some iron-work, with an
+inscription in honour of the Ayrshire poet to the original headstone.
+The cost to the poet was L5 10s.]
+
+_Edinburgh, March, 1787._
+
+MY DEAR SIR,
+
+You may think, and too justly, that I am a selfish, ungrateful fellow,
+having received so many repeated instances of kindness from you, and
+yet never putting pen to paper to say thank you; but if you knew what
+a devil of a life my conscience has led me on that account, your good
+heart would think yourself too much avenged. By the bye, there is
+nothing in the whole frame of man which seems to be so unaccountable
+as that thing called conscience. Had the troublesome yelping cur
+powers efficient to prevent a mischief, he might be of use; but at the
+beginning of the business, his feeble efforts are to the workings of
+passion as the infant frosts of an autumnal morning to the unclouded
+fervour of the rising sun: and no sooner are the tumultuous doings of
+the wicked deed over, than, amidst the bitter native consequences of
+folly, in the very vortex of our horrors, up starts conscience, and
+harrows us with the feelings of the damned.
+
+I have enclosed you, by way of expiation, some verse and prose, that,
+if they merit a place in your truly entertaining miscellany, you are
+welcome to. The prose extract is literally as Mr. Sprott sent it me.
+
+The inscription on the stone is as follows:--
+
+     "HERE LIES ROBERT FERGUSSON, POET.
+
+     Born, September 5th, 1751--Died, 16th October 1774.
+
+    "No scuptur'd marble here, nor pompous lay,
+       'No storied urn or animated bust;'
+     This simple stone directs pale Scotia's way
+       To pour her sorrows o'er her poet's dust."
+
+On the other side of the stone is as follows:
+
+"By special grant of the managers to Robert Burns, who erected this
+stone, this burial place is to remain for ever sacred to the memory of
+Robert Fergusson."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    _Session-house, within the Kirk of Canongate, the
+    twenty-second day of February, one thousand seven hundred
+    eighty-seven years._
+
+Sederunt of the Managers of the Kirk and Kirk-Yard funds of Canongate.
+
+Which day, the treasurer to the said funds produced a letter from Mr.
+Robert Burns, of date the 6th current, which was read and appointed to
+be engrossed in their sederunt book, and of which letter the tenor
+follows:--
+
+"To the honourable baillies of Canongate, Edinburgh.--Gentlemen, I am
+sorry to be told that the remains of Robert Fergusson, the so justly
+celebrated poet, a man whose talents for ages to come will do honour
+to our Caledonian name, lie in your church-yard among the ignoble
+dead, unnoticed and unknown.
+
+"Some memorial to direct the steps of the lovers of Scottish song,
+when they wish to shed a tear over the 'narrow house' of the bard who
+is no more, is surely a tribute due to Fergusson's memory: a tribute I
+wish to have the honour of paying.
+
+"I petition you then, gentlemen, to permit me to lay a simple stone
+over his revered ashes, to remain an unalienable property to his
+deathless fame. I have the honour to be, gentlemen, your very humble
+servant (_sic subscribitur_),
+
+ROBERT BURNS."
+
+Thereafter the said managers, in consideration of the laudable and
+disinterested motion of Mr. Burns, and the propriety of his request,
+did, and hereby do, unanimously, grant power and liberty to the said
+Robert Burns to erect a headstone at the grave of the said Robert
+Fergusson, and to keep up and preserve the same to his memory in all
+time coming. Extracted forth of the records of the managers, by
+
+WILLIAM SPROTT, Clerk.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LII.
+
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP.
+
+[The poet alludes in this letter to the profits of the Edinburgh
+edition of his Poems: the exact sum is no where stated, but it could
+not have been less than seven hundred pounds.]
+
+_Edinburgh, March 22d, 1787._
+
+MADAM,
+
+I read your letter with watery eyes. A little, very little while ago,
+I had scarce a friend but the stubborn pride of my own bosom: now I am
+distinguished, patronized, befriended by you. Your friendly advices, I
+will not give them the cold name of criticisms, I receive with
+reverence. I have made some small alterations in what I before had
+printed. I have the advice of some very judicious friends among the
+literati here, but with them I sometimes find it necessary to claim
+the privilege of thinking for myself. The noble Karl of Glencairn, to
+whom I owe more than to any man, does me the honor of giving me his
+strictures: his hints, with respect to impropriety or indelicacy, I
+follow implicitly.
+
+You kindly interest yourself in my future views and prospects; there I
+can give you no light. It is all
+
+    "Dark as was Chaos ere the infant sun
+    Was roll'd together, or had tried his beams
+    Athwart the gloom profound."[168]
+
+The appellation of a Scottish bard, is by far my highest pride; to
+continue to deserve it is my most exalted ambition. Scottish scenes
+and Scottish story are the themes I could wish to sing. I have no
+dearer aim than to have it in my power, unplagued with the routine of
+business, for which heaven knows I am unfit enough, to make leisurely
+pilgrimages through Caledonia; to sit on the fields of her battles; to
+wander on the romantic banks of her rivers; and to muse by the stately
+towers or venerable ruins, once the honoured abodes of her heroes.
+
+But these are all Utopian thoughts: I have dallied long enough with
+life; 'tis time to be in earnest. I have a fond, an aged mother to care
+for: and some other bosom ties perhaps equally tender. Where the
+individual only suffers by the consequences of his own thoughtlessness,
+indolence, or folly, he may be excusable; nay, shining abilities, and
+some of the nobler virtues, may half sanctify a heedless character; but
+where God and nature have intrusted the welfare of others to his care;
+where the trust is sacred, and the ties are dear, that man must be far
+gone in selfishness, or strangely lost to reflection, whom these
+connexions will not rouse to exertion.
+
+I guess that I shall clear between two and three hundred pounds by my
+authorship; with that sum I intend, so far as I may be said to have
+any intention, to return to my old acquaintance, the plough, and if I
+can meet with a lease by which I can live, to commence farmer. I do
+not intend to give up poetry; being bred to labour, secures me
+independence, and the muses are my chief, sometimes have been my only
+enjoyment. If my practice second my resolution, I shall have
+principally at heart the serious business of life; but while following
+my plough, or building up my shocks, I shall cast a leisure glance to
+that dear, that only feature of my character, which gave me the notice
+of my country, and the patronage of a Wallace.
+
+Thus, honoured Madam, I have given you the bard, his situation, and
+his views, native as they are in his own bosom.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 168: Blair's Grave.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LIII.
+
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP.
+
+[This seems to be a letter acknowledging the payment of Mrs. Dunlop's
+subscription for his poems.]
+
+_Edinburgh_, 15 _April, 1787._
+
+MADAM,
+
+There is an affectation of gratitude which I dislike. The periods of
+Johnson and the pause of Sterne, may hide a selfish heart. For my
+part, Madam, I trust I have too much pride for servility, and too
+little prudence for selfishness. I have this moment broken open your
+letter, but
+
+          "Rude am I in speech,
+    And therefore little can I grace my cause
+    In speaking for myself--"[169]
+
+so I shall not trouble you with any fine speeches and hunted figures.
+I shall just lay my hand on my heart and say, I hope I shall ever have
+the truest, the warmest sense of your goodness.
+
+I come abroad in print, for certain on Wednesday. Your orders I shall
+punctually attend to; only, by the way, I must tell you that I was
+paid before for Dr. Moore's and Miss Williams's copies, through the
+medium of Commissioner Cochrane in this place, but that we can settle
+when I have the honour of waiting on you.
+
+Dr. Smith[170] was just gone to London the morning before I received
+your letter to him.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 169: From Othello.]
+
+[Footnote 170: Adam Smith.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LIV.
+
+
+TO MR. SIBBALD,
+
+BOOKSELLER IN EDINBURGH.
+
+[This letter first appeared in that very valuable work, Nicholl's
+Illustrations of Literature.]
+
+_Lawn Market._
+
+SIR,
+
+So little am I acquainted with the words and manners of the more
+public and polished walks of life, that I often feel myself much
+embarrassed how to express the feelings of my heart, particularly
+gratitude:--
+
+        "Rude am I in my speech,
+    And little therefore shall I grace my cause
+    In speaking for myself--"
+
+The warmth with which you have befriended an obscure man and a young
+author in the last three magazines--I can only say, Sir, I feel the
+weight of the obligation, I wish I could express my sense of it. In
+the mean time accept of the conscious acknowledgment from,
+
+Sir,
+
+Your obliged servant,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LV.
+
+
+TO DR. MOORE.
+
+[The book to which the poet alludes, was the well-known View of
+Society by Dr. Moore, a work of spirit and observation.]
+
+_Edinburgh, 23d April, 1787._
+
+I received the books, and sent the one you mentioned to Mrs. Dunlop. I
+am ill skilled in beating the coverts of imagination for metaphors of
+gratitude. I thank you, Sir, for the honour you have done me; and to
+my latest hour will warmly remember it. To be highly pleased with your
+book is what I have in common with the world; but to regard these
+volumes as a mark of the author's friendly esteem, is a still more
+supreme gratification.
+
+I leave Edinburgh in the course of ten days or a fortnight, and after
+a few pilgrimages over some of the classic ground of Caledonia, Cowden
+Knowes, Banks of Yarrow, Tweed, &c., I shall return to my rural
+shades, in all likelihood never more to quit them. I have formed many
+intimacies and friendships here, but I am afraid they are all of too
+tender a construction to bear carriage a hundred and fifty miles. To
+the rich, the great, the fashionable, the polite, I have no equivalent
+to offer; and I am afraid my meteor appearance will by no means
+entitle me to a settled correspondence with any of you, who are the
+permanent lights of genius and literature.
+
+My most respectful compliments to Miss Williams. If once this tangent
+flight of mine were over, and I were returned to my wonted leisurely
+motion in my old circle, I may probably endeavour to return her poetic
+compliment in kind.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LVI.
+
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP.
+
+[This letter was in answer to one of criticism and remonstrance, from
+Mrs. Dunlop, respecting "The Dream," which she had begged the poet to
+omit, lest it should harm his fortunes with the world.]
+
+_Edinburgh, 30th April, 1787._
+
+---- Your criticisms, Madam, I understand very well, and could have
+wished to have pleased you better. You are right in your guess that I
+am not very amenable to counsel. Poets, much my superiors, have so
+flattered those who possessed the adventitious qualities of wealth and
+power, that I am determined to flatter no created being, either in
+prose or verse.
+
+I set as little by princes, lords, clergy, critics, &c., as all these
+respective gentry do by my bardship. I know what I may expect from the
+word, by and by--illiberal abuse, and perhaps contemptuous neglect.
+
+I am happy, Madam, that some of my own favourite pieces are
+distinguished by your particular approbation. For my "Dream," which
+has unfortunately incurred your loyal displeasure, I hope in four
+weeks, or less, to have the honour of appearing, at Dunlop, in its
+defence in person.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LVII.
+
+
+TO THE REV. DR. HUGH BLAIR.
+
+[The answer of Dr. Blair to this letter contains the following
+passage: "Your situation, as you say, was indeed very singular: and in
+being brought out all at once from the shades of deepest privacy to so
+great a share of public notice and observation, you had to stand a
+severe trial. I am happy you have stood it so well, and, as far as I
+have known or heard, though in the midst of many temptations, without
+reproach to your character or behaviour."]
+
+_Lawn-market, Edinburgh, 3d May, 1787._
+
+REVEREND AND MUCH-RESPECTED SIR,
+
+I leave Edinburgh to-morrow morning, but could not go without
+troubling you with half a line, sincerely to thank you for the
+kindness, patronage, and friendship you have shown me. I often felt
+the embarrassment of my singular situation; drawn forth from the
+veriest shades of life to the glare of remark; and honoured by the
+notice of those illustrious names of my country whose works, while
+they are applauded to the end of time, will ever instruct and mend the
+heart. However the meteor-like novelty of my appearance in the world
+might attract notice, and honour me with the acquaintance of the
+permanent lights of genius and literature, those who are truly
+benefactors of the immortal nature of man, I knew very well that my
+utmost merit was far unequal to the task of preserving that character
+when once the novelty was over; I have made up my mind that abuse, or
+almost even neglect, will not surprise me in my quarters.
+
+I have sent you a proof impression of Beugo's work[171] for me, done on
+Indian paper, as a trifling but sincere testimony with what heart-warm
+gratitude I am, &c.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 171: The portrait of the poet after Nasmyth.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LVIII.
+
+
+TO THE EARL OF GLENCAIRN.
+
+[The poet addressed the following letter to the Earl of Glencairn,
+when he commenced his journey to the Border. It was first printed in
+the third edition of Lockhart's Life of Burns; an eloquent and manly
+work.]
+
+MY LORD,
+
+I go away to-morrow morning early, and allow me to vent the fulness of
+my heart, in thanking your lordship for all that patronage, that
+benevolence and that friendship with which you have honoured me. With
+brimful eyes, I pray that you may find in that great Being, whose
+image you so nobly bear, that friend which I have found in you. My
+gratitude is not selfish design--that I disdain--it is not dodging
+after the heels of greatness--that is an offering you disdain. It is a
+feeling of the same kind with my devotion.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LIX.
+
+
+TO MR. WILLIAM DUNBAR.
+
+[William Dunbar, Colonel of the Crochallan Fencibles. The name has a
+martial sound, but the corps which he commanded was club of wits,
+whose courage was exercised on "paitricks, teals, moorpowts, and
+plovers."]
+
+_Lawn-market, Monday morning._
+
+DEAR SIR,
+
+In justice to Spenser, I must acknowledge that there is scarcely a
+poet in the language could have been a more agreeable present to me;
+and in justice to you, allow me to say, Sir, that I have not met with
+a man in Edinburgh to whom I would so willingly have been indebted for
+the gift. The tattered rhymes I herewith present you, and the handsome
+volumes of Spenser for which I am so much indebted to your goodness,
+may perhaps be not in proportion to one another; but be that as it
+may, my gift, though far less valuable, is as sincere a mark of esteem
+as yours.
+
+The time is approaching when I shall return to my shades; and I am
+afraid my numerous Edinburgh friendships are of so tender a
+construction, that they will not bear carriage with me. Yours is one
+of the few that I could wish of a more robust constitution. It is
+indeed very probable that when I leave this city, we part never more
+to meet in this sublunary sphere; but I have a strong fancy that in
+some future eccentric planet, the comet of happier systems than any
+with which astronomy is yet acquainted, you and I, among the harum
+scarum sons of imagination and whim, with a hearty shake of a hand, a
+metaphor and a laugh, shall recognise old acquaintance:
+
+    "Where wit may sparkle all its rays,
+      Uncurs'd with caution's fears;
+    That pleasure, basking in the blaze,
+      Rejoice for endless years."
+
+I have the honour to be, with the warmest sincerity, dear Sir, &c.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LX.
+
+
+TO JAMES JOHNSON.
+
+[James Johnson was an engraver in Edinburgh, and proprietor of the
+Musical Museum; a truly national work, for which Burns wrote or
+amended many songs.]
+
+_Lawn-market, Friday noon, 3 May, 1787._
+
+DEAR SIR,
+
+I have sent you a song never before known, for your collection; the
+air by M'Gibbon, but I know not the author of the words, as I got it
+from Dr. Blacklock.
+
+Farewell, my dear Sir! I wished to have seen you, but I have been
+dreadfully throng, as I march to-morrow. Had my acquaintance with you
+been a little older, I would have asked the favour of your
+correspondence, as I have met with few people whose company and
+conversation gives me so much pleasure, because I have met with few
+whose sentiments are so congenial to my own.
+
+When Dunbar and you meet, tell him that I left Edinburgh with the idea
+of him hanging somewhere about my heart.
+
+Keep the original of the song till we meet again, whenever that may
+be.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXI.
+
+
+TO WILLIAM CREECH, ESQ.
+
+EDINBURGH.
+
+[This characteristic letter was written during the poet's border tour:
+he narrowly escaped a soaking with whiskey, as well as with water; for
+according to the Ettrick Shepherd, "a couple of Yarrow lads, lovers of
+poesy and punch, awaited his coming to Selkirk, but would not believe
+that the parson-looking, black-avised man, who rode up to the inn,
+more like a drouket craw than a poet, could be Burns, and so went
+disappointed away."]
+
+_Selkirk, 13th May, 1787._
+
+MY HONOURED FRIEND,
+
+The enclosed I have just wrote, nearly extempore, in a solitary inn in
+Selkirk, after a miserable wet day's riding. I have been over most of
+East Lothian, Berwick, Roxburgh, and Selkirk-shires; and next week I
+begin a tour through the north of England. Yesterday I dined with Lady
+Harriet, sister to my noble patron,[172] _Quem Deus conservet_! I would
+write till I would tire you as much with dull prose, as I dare say by
+this time you are with wretched verse, but I am jaded to death; so,
+with a grateful farewell,
+
+I have the honour to be,
+
+Good Sir, yours sincerely,
+
+R. B.
+
+    Auld chuckie Reekie's sair distrest,
+    Down drops her ance weel burnish'd crest,
+    Nae joy her bonnie buskit nest
+                        Can yield ava;
+    Her darling bird that she loves best,
+                        Willie's awa.[173]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 172: James, Earl of Glencairn.]
+
+[Footnote 173: See Poem LXXXIII.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXII.
+
+
+TO MR. PATISON,
+
+BOOKSELLER, PAISLEY.
+
+[This letter has a business air about it: the name of Patison is
+nowhere else to be found in the poet's correspondence.]
+
+_Berrywell, near Dunse, May 17th, 1787._
+
+DEAR SIR,
+
+I am sorry I was out of Edinburgh, making a slight pilgrimage to the
+classic scenes of this country, when I was favoured with yours of the
+11th instant, enclosing an order of the Paisley banking company on the
+royal bank, for twenty-two pounds seven shillings sterling, payment in
+full, after carriage deducted, for ninety copies of my book I sent
+you. According to your motions, I see you will have left Scotland
+before this reaches you, otherwise I would send you "Holy Willie" with
+all my heart. I was so hurried that I absolutely forgot several things
+I ought to have minded, among the rest sending books to Mr. Cowan; but
+any order of yours will be answered at Creech's shop. You will please
+remember that non-subscribers pay six shillings, this is Creech's
+profit; but those who have subscribed, though their names have been
+neglected in the printed list, which is very incorrect, are supplied
+at subscription price. I was not at Glasgow, nor do I intend for
+London; and I think Mrs. Fame is very idle to tell so many lies on a
+poor poet. When you or Mr. Cowan write for copies, if you should want
+any direct to Mr. Hill, at Mr. Creech's shop, and I write to Mr. Hill
+by this post, to answer either of your orders. Hill is Mr. Creech's
+first clerk, and Creech himself is presently in London. I suppose I
+shall have the pleasure, against your return to Paisley, of assuring
+you how much I am, dear Sir, your obliged humble servant,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXIII.
+
+
+TO W. NICOL, ESQ.,
+
+MASTER OF THE HIGH SCHOOL, EDINBURGH.
+
+[Jenny Geddes was a zealous old woman, who threw the stool on which
+she sat, at the Dean of Edinburgh's head, when, in 1637, he attempted
+to introduce a Scottish Liturgy, and cried as she threw, "Villain,
+wilt thou say the mass at my lug!" The poet named his mare after this
+virago.]
+
+_Carlisle, June 1., 1787._
+
+KIND, HONEST-HEARTED WILLIE,
+
+I'm sitten down here after seven and forty miles ridin', e'en as
+forjesket and forniaw'd as a forfoughten cock, to gie you some notion
+o' my land lowper-like stravaguin sin the sorrowfu' hour that I sheuk
+hands and parted wi' auld Reekie.
+
+My auld, ga'd gleyde o' a meere has huch-yall'd up hill and down brae,
+in Scotland and England, as teugh and birnie as a vera devil wi' me.
+It's true, she's as poor's a sang-maker and as hard's a kirk, and
+tipper-taipers when she taks the gate, first like a lady's gentlewoman
+in a minuwae, or a hen on a het girdle; but she's a yauld, poutherie
+Girran for a' that, and has a stomack like Willie Stalker's meere that
+wad hae disgeested tumbler-wheels, for she'll whip me aff her five
+stimparts o' the best aits at a down-sittin and ne'er fash her thumb.
+When ance her ringbanes and spavies, her crucks and cramps, and fairly
+soupl'd, she beets to, beets to, and ay the hindmost hour the
+tightest. I could wager her price to a thretty pennies, that for twa
+or three wooks ridin at fifty miles a day, the deil-stricket a five
+gallopers acqueesh Clyde and Whithorn could cast saut on her tail.
+
+I hae dander'd owre a' the kintra frae Dumbar to Selcraig, and hae
+forgather'd wi' monie a guid fallow, and monie a weelfar'd huzzie. I
+met wi' twa dink quines in particular, ane o' them a sonsie, fine,
+fodgel lass, baith braw and bonnie; the tither was clean-shankit,
+straught, tight, weelfar'd winch, as blythe's a lintwhite on a
+flowerie thorn, and as sweet and modest's a new-blawn plumrose in a
+hazle shaw. They were baith bred to mainers by the beuk, and onie ane
+o' them had as muckle smeddum and rumblegumtion as the half o' some
+presbytries that you and I baith ken. They play'd me sik a deevil o' a
+shavie that I daur say if my harigals were turn'd out, ye wad see twa
+nicks i' the heart o' me like the mark o' a kail-whittle in a castock.
+
+I was gaun to write you a lang pystle, but, Gude forgie me, I gat
+mysel sae noutouriously bitchify'd the day after kail-time, that I can
+hardly stoiter but and ben.
+
+My best respecks to the guidwife and a' our common friens, especiall
+Mr. and Mrs. Cruikshank, and the honest guidman o' Jock's Lodge.
+
+I'll be in Dumfries the morn gif the beast be to the fore, and the
+branks bide hale.
+
+Gude be wi' you, Willie! Amen!
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXIV.
+
+
+TO MR. JAMES SMITH,
+
+AT MILLER AND SMITH'S OFFICE, LINLITHGOW.
+
+[Burns, it seems by this letter, had still a belief that he would be
+obliged to try his fortune in the West Indies: he soon saw how hollow
+all the hopes were, which had been formed by his friends of "pension,
+post or place," in his native land.]
+
+_Mauchline, 11th June, 1787._
+
+MY EVER DEAR SIR,
+
+I date this from Mauchline, where I arrived on Friday even last. I
+slept at John Dow's, and called for my daughter. Mr. Hamilton and your
+family; your mother, sister, and brother; my quondam Eliza, &c., all
+well. If anything had been wanting to disgust me completely at
+Armour's family, their mean, servile compliance would have done it.
+
+Give me a spirit like my favourite hero, Milton's Satan:
+
+                  Hail, horrors! hail,
+    Infernal world! and thou proufoundest hell,
+    Receive thy new possessor! he who brings
+    A mind not be chang'd by _place_ or _time_!
+
+I cannot settle to my mind.--Farming, the only thing of which I know
+anything, and heaven above knows but little do I understand of that, I
+cannot, dare not risk on farms as they are. If I do not fix I will go
+for Jamaica. Should I stay in an unsettled state at home, I would
+only dissipate my little fortune, and ruin what I intend shall
+compensate my little ones, for the stigma I have brought on their
+names.
+
+I shall write you more at large soon; as this letter costs you no
+postage, if it be worth reading you cannot complain of your
+pennyworth.
+
+I am ever, my dear Sir,
+
+Yours,
+
+R. B.
+
+P.S. The cloot has unfortunately broke, but I have provided a fine
+buffalo-horn, on which I am going to affix the same cipher which you
+will remember was on the lid of the cloot.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXV.
+
+
+TO WILLIAM NICOL, ESQ.
+
+[The charm which Dumfries threw over the poet, seems to have dissolved
+like a spell, when he sat down in Ellisland: he spoke, for a time,
+with little respect of either place or people.]
+
+_Mauchline, June 18, 1787._
+
+MY DEAR FRIEND,
+
+I am now arrived safe in my native country, after a very agreeable
+jaunt, and have the pleasure to find all my friends well. I
+breakfasted with your gray-headed, reverend friend, Mr. Smith; and was
+highly pleased both with the cordial welcome he gave me, and his most
+excellent appearance and sterling good sense.
+
+I have been with Mr. Miller at Dalswinton, and am to meet him again in
+August. From my view of the lands, and his reception of my bardship,
+my hopes in that business are rather mended; but still they are but
+slender.
+
+I am quite charmed with Dumfries folks--Mr. Burnside, the clergyman,
+in particular, is a man whom I shall ever gratefully remember; and his
+wife, Gude forgie me! I had almost broke the tenth commandment on her
+account. Simplicity, elegance, good sense, sweetness of disposition,
+good humour, kind hospitality are the constituents of her manner and
+heart; in short--but if I say one word more about her, I shall be
+directly in love with her.
+
+I never, my friend, thought mankind very capable of anything generous;
+but the stateliness of the patricians in Edinburgh, and the servility
+of my plebeian brethren (who perhaps formerly eyed me askance) since I
+returned home, have nearly put me out of conceit altogether with my
+species. I have bought a pocket Milton, which I carry perpetually
+about with me, in order to study the sentiments--the dauntless
+magnanimity, the intrepid, unyielding independence, the desperate
+daring, and noble defiance of hardship, in that great personage,
+SATAN. 'Tis true, I have just now a little cash; but I am
+afraid the star that hitherto has shed its malignant, purpose-blasting
+rays full in my zenith; that noxious planet so baneful in its
+influences to the rhyming tribe, I much dread it is not yet beneath my
+horizon.--Misfortune dodges the path of human life; the poetic mind
+finds itself miserably deranged in, and unfit for the walks of
+business; add to all, that thoughtless follies and hare-brained whims,
+like so many _ignes fatui_, eternally diverging from the right line of
+sober discretion, sparkle with step-bewitching blaze in the
+idly-gazing eyes of the poor heedless bard, till, pop, "he falls like
+Lucifer, never to hope again." God grant this may be an unreal picture
+with respect to me! but should it not, I have very little dependence
+on mankind. I will close my letter with this tribute my heart bids me
+pay you--the many ties of acquaintance and friendship which I have, or
+think I have in life, I have felt along the lines, and, damn them,
+they are almost all of them of such frail contexture, that I am sure
+they would not stand the breath of the least adverse breeze of
+fortune; but from you, my ever dear Sir, I look with confidence for
+the apostolic love that shall wait on me "through good report and bad
+report"--the love which Solomon emphatically says "is strong as
+death." My compliments to Mrs. Nicol, and all the circle of our common
+friends.
+
+P.S. I shall be in Edinburgh about the latter end of July.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXVI.
+
+
+TO MR. JAMES CANDLISH.
+
+[Candlish was a classic scholar, but had a love for the songs of
+Scotland, as well as for the poetry of Greece and Rome.]
+
+_Edinburgh, 1787._
+
+MY DEAR FRIEND,
+
+If once I were gone from this scene of hurry and dissipation, I
+promise myself the pleasure of that correspondence being renewed
+which has been so long broken. At present I have time for nothing.
+Dissipation and business engross every moment. I am engaged in
+assisting an honest Scotch enthusiast,[174] a friend of mine, who is an
+engraver, and has taken it into his head to publish a collection of
+all our songs set to music, of which the words and music are done by
+Scotsmen. This, you will easily guess, is an undertaking exactly to my
+taste. I have collected, begged, borrowed, and stolen, all the songs I
+could meet with. Pompey's Ghost, words and music, I beg from you
+immediately, to go into his second number: the first is already
+published. I shall show you the first number when I see you in
+Glasgow, which will be in a fortnight or less. Do be so kind as to
+send me the song in a day or two; you cannot imagine how much it will
+oblige me.
+
+Direct to me at Mr. W. Cruikshank's, St. James's Square, New Town,
+Edinburgh.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 174: Johnson, the publisher and proprietor of the Musical
+Museum.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXVII.
+
+
+TO ROBERT AINSLIE, ESQ.
+
+["Burns had a memory stored with the finest poetical passages, which
+he was in the habit of quoting most aptly in his correspondence with
+his friends: and he delighted also in repeating them in the company of
+those friends who enjoyed them." These are the words of Ainslie, of
+Berrywell, to whom this letter in addressed.]
+
+_Arracher_, 28_th June_, 1787.
+
+MY DEAR SIR,
+
+I write on my tour through a country where savage streams tumble over
+savage mountains, thinly overspread with savage flocks, which
+sparingly support as savage inhabitants. My last stage was
+Inverary--to-morrow night's stage Dumbarton. I ought sooner to have
+answered your kind letter, but you know I am a man of many sins.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXVIII.
+
+
+TO WILLIAM NICOL, ESQ.
+
+[This visit to Auchtertyre produced that sweet lyric, beginning
+"Blythe, blythe and merry was she;" and the lady who inspired it was
+at his side, when he wrote this letter.]
+
+_Auchtertyre, Monday, June, 1787._
+
+MY DEAR SIR,
+
+I find myself very comfortable here, neither oppressed by ceremony nor
+mortified by neglect. Lady Augusta is a most engaging woman, and very
+happy in her family, which makes one's outgoings and incomings very
+agreeable. I called at Mr. Ramsay's of Auchtertyre as I came up the
+country, and am so delighted with him that I shall certainly accept of
+his invitation to spend a day or two with him as I return. I leave
+this place on Wednesday or Thursday.
+
+Make my kind compliments to Mr. and Mrs. Cruikshank and Mrs. Nicol, if
+she is returned.
+
+I am ever, dear Sir,
+
+Your deeply indebted,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXIX.
+
+
+TO WILLIAM CRUIKSHANK, ESQ.
+
+ST. JAMES'S SQUARE, EDINBURGH.
+
+[At the house of William Cruikshank, one of the masters of the High
+School, in Edinburgh, Burns passed many agreeable hours.]
+
+_Auchtertyre, Monday morning._
+
+I have nothing, my dear Sir, to write to you but that I feel myself
+exceedingly comfortably situated in this good family: just notice
+enough to make me easy but not to embarrass me. I was storm-staid two
+days at the foot of the Ochillhills, with Mr. Trait of Herveyston and
+Mr. Johnston of Alva, but was so well pleased that I shall certainly
+spend a day on the banks of the Devon as I return. I leave this place
+I suppose on Wednesday, and shall devote a day to Mr. Ramsay at
+Auchtertyre, near Stirling: a man to whose worth I cannot do justice.
+My respectful kind compliments to Mrs. Cruikshank, and my dear little
+Jeanie, and if you see Mr. Masterton, please remember me to him.
+
+I am ever,
+
+My dear Sir, &c.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXX.
+
+
+TO MR. JAMES SMITH.
+
+LINLITHGOW.
+
+[The young lady to whom the poet alludes in this letter, was very
+beautiful, and very proud: it is said she gave him a specimen of both
+her temper and her pride, when he touched on the subject of love.]
+
+_June 30, 1787._
+
+MY DEAR FRIEND,
+
+On our return, at a Highland gentleman's hospitable mansion, we fell
+in with a merry party, and danced till the ladies left us, at three in
+the morning. Our dancing was none of the French or English insipid
+formal movements; the ladies sung Scotch songs like angels, at
+intervals; then we flew at Bab at the Bowster, Tullochgorum, Loch
+Erroch Side, &c., like midges sporting in the mottie sun, or craws
+prognosticating a storm in a hairst day.--When the dear lasses left
+us, we ranged round the bowl till the good-fellow hour of six; except
+a few minutes that we went out to pay our devotions to the glorious
+lamp of day peering over the towering top of Benlomond. We all
+kneeled; our worthy landlord's son held the bowl; each man a full
+glass in his hand; and I, as priest, repeated some rhyming nonsense,
+like Thomas-a-Rhymer's prophecies I suppose.--After a small
+refreshment of the gifts of Somnus, we proceeded to spend the day on
+Lochlomond, and reach Dumbarton in the evening. We dined at another
+good fellow's house, and consequently, pushed the bottle; when we went
+out to mount our horses, we found ourselves "No vera fou but gaylie
+yet." My two friends and I rode soberly down the Loch side, till by
+came a Highlandman at the gallop, on a tolerably good horse, but which
+had never known the ornaments of iron or leather. We scorned to be
+out-galloped by a Highlandman, so off we started, whip and spur. My
+companions, though seemingly gaily mounted, fell sadly astern; but my
+old mare, Jenny Geddes, one of the Rosinante family, she strained past
+the Highlandman in spite of all his efforts with the hair halter; just
+as I was passing him, Donald wheeled his horse, as if to cross before
+me to mar my progress, when down came his horse, and threw his rider's
+breekless a----e in a clipt hedge; and down came Jenny Geddes over
+all, and my bardship between her and the Highlandman's horse. Jenny
+Geddes trode over me with such cautious reverence, that matters were
+not so bad as might well have been expected; so I came off with a few
+cuts and bruises, and a thorough resolution to be a pattern of
+sobriety for the future.
+
+I have yet fixed on nothing with respect to the serious business of
+life. I am, just as usual, a rhyming, mason-making, raking, aimless,
+idle fellow. However, I shall somewhere have a farm soon. I was going
+to say, a wife too; but that must never be my blessed lot. I am but a
+younger son of the house of Parnassus, and like other younger sons of
+great families, I may intrigue, if I choose to run all risks, but must
+not marry.
+
+I am afraid I have almost ruined one source, the principal one,
+indeed, of my former happiness; that eternal propensity I always had
+to fall in love. My heart no more glows with feverish rapture. I have
+no paradisaical evening interviews, stolen from the restless cares and
+prying inhabitants of this weary world. I have only * * * *. This last
+is one of your distant acquaintances, has a fine figure, and elegant
+manners; and in the train of some great folks whom you know, has seen,
+the politest quarters in Europe. I do like her a good deal; but what
+piques me is her conduct at the commencement of our acquaintance. I
+frequently visited her when I was in ----, and after passing regularly
+the intermediate degrees between the distant formal bow and the
+familiar grasp round the waist, I ventured, in my careless way, to
+talk of friendship in rather ambiguous terms; and after her return
+to ----, I wrote to her in the same style. Miss, construing my words
+farther I suppose than even I intended, flew off in a tangent of
+female dignity and reserve, like a mounting lark in an April morning;
+and wrote me an answer which measured me out very completely what an
+immense way I had to travel before I could reach the climate of her
+favour. But I am an old hawk at the sport, and wrote her such a cool,
+deliberate, prudent reply, as brought my bird from her aerial
+towerings, pop, down at my foot, like Corporal Trim's hat.
+
+As for the rest of my acts, and my wars, and all my wise sayings, and
+why my mare was called Jenny Geddes, they shall be recorded in a few
+weeks hence at Linlithgow, in the chronicles of your memory, by
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXI.
+
+
+TO MR. JOHN RICHMOND.
+
+[Mr. John Richmond, writer, was one of the poet's earliest and firmest
+friends; he shared his room with him when they met in Edinburgh, and
+did him many little offices of kindness and regard.]
+
+_Mossgiel, 7th July, 1787._
+
+MY DEAR RICHMOND,
+
+I am all impatience to hear of your fate since the old confounder of
+right and wrong has turned you out of place, by his journey to answer
+his indictment at the bar of the other world. He will find the
+practice of the court so different from the practice in which he has
+for so many years been thoroughly hackneyed, that his friends, if he
+had any connexions truly of that kind, which I rather doubt, may well
+tremble for his sake. His chicane, his left-handed wisdom, which stood
+so firmly by him, to such good purpose, here, like other accomplices
+in robbery and plunder, will, now the piratical business is blown, in
+all probability turn the king's evidences, and then the devil's
+bagpiper will touch him off "Bundle and go!"
+
+If he has left you any legacy, I beg your pardon for all this; if not,
+I know you will swear to every word I said about him.
+
+I have lately been rambling over by Dumbarton and Inverary, and
+running a drunken race on the side of Loch Lomond with a wild
+Highlandman; his horse, which had never known the ornaments of iron or
+leather, zigzagged across before my old spavin'd hunter, whose name is
+Jenny Geddes, and down came the Highlandman, horse and all, and down
+came Jenny and my bardship; so I have got such a skinful of bruises
+and wounds, that I shall be at least four weeks before I dare venture
+on my journey to Edinburgh.
+
+Not one new thing under the sun has happened in Mauchline since you
+left it. I hope this will find you as comfortably situated as
+formerly, or, if heaven pleases, more so; but, at all events, I trust
+you will let me know of course how matters stand with you, well or
+ill. 'Tis but poor consolation to tell the world when matters go
+wrong; but you know very well your connexion and mine stands on a
+different footing.
+
+I am ever, my dear friend, yours,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXII.
+
+
+TO ROBERT AINSLIE, ESQ.
+
+[This letter, were proof wanting, shows the friendly and familiar
+footing on which Burns stood with the Ainslies, and more particularly
+with the author of that popular work, the "Reasons for the Hope that
+is in us."]
+
+_Mauchline, 23d July, 1787._
+
+MY DEAR AINSLIE,
+
+There is one thing for which I set great store by you as a friend, and
+it is this, that I have not a friend upon earth, besides yourself, to
+whom I can talk nonsense without forfeiting some degree of his esteem.
+Now, to one like me, who never cares for speaking anything else but
+nonsense, such a friend as you is an invaluable treasure. I was never
+a rogue, but have been a fool all my life; and, in spite of all my
+endeavours, I see now plainly that I shall never be wise. Now it
+rejoices my heart to have met with such a fellow as you, who, though
+you are not just such a hopeless fool as I, yet I trust you will never
+listen so much to the temptations of the devil as to grow so very wise
+that you will in the least disrespect an honest follow because he is a
+fool. In short, I have set you down as the staff of my old age, when
+the whole list of my friends will, after a decent share of pity, have
+forgot me.
+
+    Though in the morn comes sturt and strife,
+      Yet joy may come at noon;
+    And I hope to live a merry, merry life
+      When a' thir days are done.
+
+Write me soon, were it but a few lines just to tell me how that good
+sagacious man your father is--that kind dainty body your mother--that
+strapping chiel your brother Douglas--and my friend Rachel, who is as
+far before Rachel of old, as she was before her blear-eyed sister
+Leah.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXIII.
+
+
+TO ROBERT AINSLIE, ESQ.
+
+[The "savage hospitality," of which Burns complains in this letter,
+was at that time an evil fashion in Scotland: the bottle was made to
+circulate rapidly, and every glass was drunk "clean caup out."]
+
+_Mauchline, July, 1787._
+
+MY DEAR SIR,
+
+My life, since I saw you last, has been one continued hurry; that
+savage hospitality which knocks a man down with strong liquors, is
+the devil. I have a sore warfare in this world; the devil, the world,
+and the flesh are three formidable foes. The first I generally try to
+fly from; the second, alas! generally flies from me; but the third is
+my plague, worse than the ten plagues of Egypt.
+
+I have been looking over several farms in this country; one in
+particular, in Nithsdale, pleased me so well, that if my offer to the
+proprietor is accepted, I shall commence farmer at Whit-Sunday. If
+farming do not appear eligible, I shall have recourse to my other
+shift: but this to a friend.
+
+I set out for Edinburgh on Monday morning; how long I stay there is
+uncertain, but you will know so soon as I can inform you myself.
+However I determine, poesy must be laid aside for some time; my mind
+has been vitiated with idleness, and it will take a good deal of
+effort to habituate it to the routine of business.
+
+I am, my dear Sir,
+
+Yours sincerely,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXIV.
+
+
+TO DR. MOORE.
+
+[Dr. Moore was one of the first to point out the beauty of the lyric
+compositions of Burns. "'Green grow the Rashes,' and of the two
+songs," says he, "which follow, beginning 'Again rejoicing nature
+sees,' and 'The gloomy night is gathering fast;' the latter is
+exquisite. By the way, I imagine you have a peculiar talent for such
+compositions which you ought to indulge: no kind of poetry demands
+more delicacy or higher polishing." On this letter to Moore all the
+biographies of Burns are founded.]
+
+_Mauchline, 2d August, 1787._
+
+SIR,
+
+For some months past I have been rambling over the country, but I am
+now confined with some lingering complaints, originating, as I take
+it, in the stomach. To divert my spirits a little in this miserable
+fog of ennui, I have taken a whim to give you a history of myself. My
+name has made some little noise in this country; you have done me the
+honour to interest yourself very warmly in my behalf; and I think a
+faithful account of what character of a man I am, and how I came by
+that character, may perhaps amuse you in an idle moment. I will give
+you an honest narrative, though I know it will be often at my own
+expense; for I assure you, Sir, I have, like Solomon, whose character,
+excepting in the trifling affair of wisdom, I sometimes think I
+resemble,--I have, I say, like him turned my eyes to behold madness
+and folly, and like him, too, frequently shaken hands with their
+intoxicating friendship.--After you have perused these pages, should
+you think them trifling and impertinent, I only beg leave to tell you,
+that the poor author wrote them under some twitching qualms of
+conscience, arising from a suspicion that he was doing what he ought
+not to do; a predicament he has more than once been in before.
+
+I have not the most distant pretensions to assume that character which
+the pye-coated guardians of escutcheons call a gentleman. When at
+Edinburgh last winter, I got acquainted in the herald's office; and,
+looking through that granary of honours, I there found almost every
+name in the kingdom; but for me,
+
+              "My ancient but ignoble blood
+    Has crept thro' scoundrels ever since the flood."
+
+POPE.
+
+Gules, purpure, argent, &c., quite disowned me.
+
+My father was of the north of Scotland, the son of a farmer, and was
+thrown by early misfortunes on the world at large; where, after many
+years' wanderings and sojournings, he picked up a pretty large
+quantity of observation and experience, to which I am indebted for
+most of my little pretensions to wisdom--I have met with few who
+understood men, their manners, and their ways, equal to him; but
+stubborn, ungainly integrity, and headlong, ungovernable irascibility,
+are disqualifying circumstances; consequently, I was born a very poor
+man's son. For the first six or seven years of my life, my father was
+gardener to a worthy gentleman of small estate in the neighbourhood of
+Ayr. Had he continued in that station I must have marched off to be
+one of the little underlings about a farm-house; but it was his
+dearest wish and prayer to have it in his power to keep his children
+under his own eye, till they could discern between good and evil; so,
+with the assistance of his generous master, my father ventured on a
+small farm on his estate. At those years, I was by no means a
+favourite with anybody. I was a good deal noted for a retentive
+memory, a stubborn sturdy something in my disposition, and an
+enthusiastic idiot[175] piety. I say idiot piety, because I was then
+but a child. Though it cost the schoolmaster some thrashings, I made
+an excellent English, scholar; and by the time I was ten or eleven
+years of age, I was a critic in substantives, verbs, and particles. In
+my infant and boyish days, too, I owed much to an old woman who
+resided in the family, remarkable for her ignorance, credulity, and
+superstition. She had, I suppose, the largest collection in the
+country of tales and songs concerning devils, ghosts, fairies,
+brownies, witches, warlocks, spunkies, kelpies, elf-candles,
+dead-lights, wraiths, apparitions, cantraips, giants, enchanted towers,
+dragons, and other trumpery. This cultivated the latent seeds of
+poetry; but had so strong an effect on my imagination, that to this
+hour, in my nocturnal rambles, I sometimes keep a sharp look out in
+suspicions places; and though nobody can be more sceptical than I am
+in such matters, yet it often takes an effort of philosophy to shake
+off these idle terrors. The earliest composition that I recollect
+taking pleasure in, was The Vision of Mirza, and a hymn of Addison's
+beginning, "How are thy servants blest, O Lord!" I particularly
+remember one half-stanza which was music to my boyish ear--
+
+   "For though in dreadful whirls we hung
+      High on the broken wave--"
+
+I met with these pieces in Mason's English Collection, one of my
+school-books. The first two books I ever read in private, and which
+gave me more pleasure than any two books I ever read since, were The
+Life of Hannibal, and The History of Sir William Wallace. Hannibal
+gave my young ideas such a turn, that I used to strut in raptures up
+and down after the recruiting drum and bag-pipe, and wish myself tall
+enough to be a soldier; while the story of Wallace poured a Scottish
+prejudice into my veins, which will boil along there till the
+flood-gates of life shut in eternal rest.
+
+Polemical divinity about this time was putting the country half mad,
+and I, ambitious of shining in conversation parties on Sundays,
+between sermons, at funerals, &c., used a few years afterwards to
+puzzle Calvinism with so much heat and indiscretion, that I raised a
+hue and cry of heresy against me, which has not ceased to this hour.
+
+My vicinity to Ayr was of some advantage to me. My social disposition,
+when not checked by some modifications of spirited pride, was like our
+catechism definition of infinitude, without bounds or limits. I formed
+several connexions with other younkers, who possessed superior
+advantages; the youngling actors who were busy in the rehearsal of
+parts, in which they were shortly to appear on the stage of life,
+where, alas! I was destined to drudge behind the scenes. It is not
+commonly at this green age, that our young gentry have a just sense of
+the immense distance between them and their ragged playfellows. It
+takes a few dashes into the world, to give the young great man that
+proper, decent, unnoticing disregard for the poor, insignificant
+stupid devils, the mechanics and peasantry around him, who were,
+perhaps, born in the same village. My young superiors never insulted
+the clouterly appearance of my plough-boy carcase, the two extremes
+of which were often exposed to all the inclemencies of all the
+seasons. They would give me stray volumes of books; among them, even
+then, I could pick up some observations, and one, whose heart, I am
+sure, not even the "Munny Begum" scenes have tainted, helped me to a
+little French. Parting with these my young friends and benefactors, as
+they occasionally went off for the East or West Indies, was often to
+me a sore affliction; but I was soon called to more serious evils. My
+father's generous master died! the farm proved a ruinous bargain; and
+to clench the misfortune, we fell into the hands of a factor, who sat
+for the picture I have drawn of one in my tale of "The Twa Dogs." My
+father was advanced in life when he married; I was the eldest of seven
+children, and he, worn out by early hardships, was unfit for labour.
+My father's spirit was soon irritated, but not easily broken. There
+was a freedom in his lease in two years more, and to weather these two
+years, we retrenched our expenses. We lived very poorly: I was a
+dexterous ploughman for my age; and the next eldest to me was a
+brother (Gilbert), who could drive the plough very well, and help me
+to thrash the corn. A novel-writer might, perhaps, have viewed these
+scenes with some satisfaction, but so did not I; my indignation yet
+boils at the recollection of the scoundrel factor's insolent
+threatening letters, which used to set us all in tears.
+
+This kind of life--the cheerless gloom of a hermit, with the unceasing
+moil of a galley-slave, brought me to my sixteenth year; a little
+before which period I first committed the sin of rhyme. You know our
+country custom of coupling a man and woman together as partners in
+the labours of harvest. In my fifteenth autumn, my partner was a
+bewitching creature, a year younger than myself. My scarcity of
+English denies me the power of doing her justice in that language, but
+you know the Scottish idiom: she was a "bonnie, sweet, sonsie lass."
+In short, she, altogether unwittingly to herself, initiated me in that
+delicious passion, which, in spite of acid disappointment, gin-horse
+prudence, and bookworm philosophy, I hold to be the first of human
+joys, our dearest blessing here below! How she caught the contagion I
+cannot tell; you medical people talk much of infection from breathing
+the same air, the touch, &c.; but I never expressly said I loved
+her.--Indeed, I did not know myself why I liked so much to loiter
+behind with her, when returning in the evening from our labours; why
+the tones of her voice made my heart-strings thrill like an AEolian
+harp; and particularly why my pulse beat such a furious ratan, when I
+looked and fingered over her little hand to pick out the cruel
+nettle-stings and thistles. Among her other love-inspiring qualities,
+she sung sweetly; and it was her favourite reel to which I attempted
+giving an embodied vehicle in ryhme. I was not so presumptuous as to
+imagine that I could make verses like printed ones, composed by men
+who had Greek and Latin; but my girl sung a song which was said to be
+composed by a small country laird's son, on one of his father's maids,
+with whom he was in love; and I saw no reason why I might not rhyme as
+well as he; for excepting that he could smear sheep, and cast peats,
+his father living in the moorlands, he had no more scholar-craft than
+myself.
+
+Thus with me began love and poetry; which at times have been my only,
+and till within the last twelve months, have been my highest
+enjoyment. My father struggled on till he reached the freedom in his
+lease, when he entered on a larger farm, about ten miles farther in
+the country. The nature of the bargain he made was such as to throw a
+little ready money into his hands at the commencement of his lease,
+otherwise the affair would have been impracticable. For four years we
+lived comfortably here, but a difference commencing between him and
+his landlord as to terms, after three years tossing and whirling in
+the vortex of litigation, my father was just saved from the horrors of
+a jail, by a consumption, which, after two years' promises, kindly
+stepped in, and carried him away, to where the wicked cease from
+troubling, and where the weary are at rest!
+
+It is during the time that we lived on this farm that my little story
+is most eventful. I was, at the beginning of this period, perhaps, the
+most ungainly awkward boy in the parish--no _solitaire_ was less
+acquainted with the ways of the world. What I knew of ancient story
+was gathered from Salmon's and Guthrie's Geographical Grammars; and
+the ideas I had formed of modern manners, of literature, and
+criticism, I got from the Spectator. These, with Pope's Works, some
+Plays of Shakspeare, Tull and Dickson on Agriculture, the Pantheon,
+Locke's Essay on the Human Understanding, Stackhouse's History of the
+Bible, Justice's British Gardener's Directory, Boyle's Lectures, Allan
+Ramsay's Works, Taylor's Scripture Doctrine of Original Sin, A Select
+Collection of English Songs, and Hervey's Meditations, had formed the
+whole of my reading. The collection of Songs was my _vade mecum._ I
+pored over them, driving my cart, or walking to labour, song by song,
+verse by verse; carefully noting the true tender, or sublime, from
+affectation and fustian. I am convinced I owe to this practice much of
+my critic craft, such as it is.
+
+In my seventeenth year, to give my manners a brush, I went to a country
+dancing-school. My father had an unaccountable antipathy against these
+meetings, and my going was, what to this moment I repent, in opposition
+to his wishes. My father, as I said before, was subject to strong
+passions; from that instance of disobedience in me, he took a sort of
+dislike to me, which, I believe, was one cause of the dissipation which
+marked my succeeding years. I say dissipation, comparatively with the
+strictness, and sobriety, and regularity of Presbyterian country life;
+for though the will-o'-wisp meteors of thoughtless whim were almost the
+sole lights of my path, yet early ingrained piety and virtue kept me for
+several years afterwards within the line of innocence. The great
+misfortune of my life was to want an aim. I had felt early some
+stirrings of ambition, but they were the blind gropings of Homer's
+Cyclops round the walls of his cave. I saw my father's situation
+entailed on me perpetual labour. The only two openings by which I could
+enter the temple of fortune were the gate of niggardly economy, or the
+path of little chicaning bargain-making. The first is so contracted an
+aperture I never could squeeze myself into it--the last I always
+hated--there was contamination in the very entrance! Thus abandoned of
+aim or view in life, with a strong appetite for sociability, as well
+from native hilarity as from a pride of observation and remark; a
+constitutional melancholy or hypochondriasm that made me fly solitude;
+add to these incentives to social life, my reputation for bookish
+knowledge, a certain wild logical talent, and a strength of thought,
+something like the rudiments of good sense; and it will not seem
+surprising that I was generally a welcome guest where I visited, or any
+great wonder that always, where two or three met together, there was I
+among them. But far beyond all other impulses of my heart, was _un
+penchant a l' adorable moitie du genre humain._ My heart was completely
+tinder, and was eternally lighted up by some goddess or other; and, as
+in every other warfare in this world, my fortune was various; sometimes
+I was received with favour, and sometimes I was mortified with a
+repulse. At the plough, scythe, or reap-hook, I feared no competitor,
+and thus I set absolute want at defiance; and as I never cared farther
+for my labours than while I was in actual exercise, I spent the evenings
+in the way after my own heart. A country lad seldom carries on a love
+adventure without an assisting confidant. I possessed a curiosity, zeal,
+and intrepid dexterity that recommended me as a proper second on these
+occasions; and I dare say, I felt as much pleasure in being in the
+secret of half the loves of the parish of Tarbolton, as ever did
+statesman in knowing the intrigues of half the courts of Europe. The
+very goose feather in my hand seems to know instinctively the well-worn
+path of my imagination, the favourite theme of my song; and is with
+difficulty restrained from giving you a couple of paragraphs on the
+love-adventures of my compeers, the humble inmates of the farm-house and
+cottage; but the grave sons of science, ambition, or avarice baptize
+these things by the name of follies. To the sons and daughters of labour
+and poverty they are matters of the most serious nature: to them the
+ardent hope, the stolen interview, the tender farewell, are the greatest
+and most delicious parts of their enjoyments.
+
+Another circumstance in my life which made some alteration in my mind
+and manners, was, that I spent my nineteenth summer on a smuggling
+coast, a good distance from home, at a noted school to learn
+mensuration, surveying, dialling, &c., in which I made a pretty good
+progress. But I made a greater progress in the knowledge of mankind.
+The contraband trade was at that time very successful, and it
+sometimes happened to me to fall in with those who carried it on.
+Scenes of swaggering riot and roaring dissipation were, till this
+time, new to me; but I was no enemy to social life. Here, though I
+learnt to fill my glass, and to mix without fear in a drunken
+squabble, yet I went on with a high hand with my geometry, till the
+sun entered Virgo, a month which is always a carnival in my bosom,
+when a charming fillette, who lived next door to the school, overset
+my trigonometry, and set me off at a tangent from the spheres of my
+studies. I, however, struggled on with my sines and co-sines for a few
+days more; but stepping into the garden one charming noon to take the
+sun's altitude, there I met my angel,
+
+        "Like Proserpine gathering flowers,
+    Herself a fairer flower--"[176]
+
+It was in vain to think of doing any more good at school. The
+remaining week I stayed I did nothing but craze the faculties of my
+soul about her, or steal out to meet her; and the two last nights of
+my stay in the country, had sleep been a mortal sin, the image of this
+modest and innocent girl had kept me guiltless.
+
+I returned home very considerably improved. My reading was enlarged
+with the very important addition of Thomson's and Shenstone's works; I
+had seen human nature in a new phasis; and I engaged several of my
+school-fellows to keep up a literary correspondence with me. This
+improved me in composition. I had met with a collection of letters by
+the wits of Queen Anne's reign, and I pored over them most devoutly. I
+kept copies of any of my own letters that pleased me, and a comparison
+between them and the composition of most of my correspondents
+flattered my vanity. I carried this whim so far, that though I hid not
+three-farthings' worth of business in the world, yet almost every post
+brought me as many letters as if I had been a broad plodding son of
+the day-book and ledger.
+
+My life flowed on much in the same course till my twenty-third year.
+_Vive l'amour, et vive la bagatelle_, were my sole principles of
+action. The addition of two more authors to my library gave me great
+pleasure; Sterne and Mackenzie--Tristram Shandy and the Man of Feeling
+were my bosom favourites. Poesy was still a darling walk for my mind,
+but it was only indulged in according to the humour of the hour. I had
+usually half a dozen or more pieces on hand; I took up one or other,
+as it suited the momentary tone of the mind, and dismissed the work as
+it bordered on fatigue. My passions, when once lighted up, raged like
+so many devils, till they got vent in rhyme; and then the conning over
+my verses, like a spell, soothed all into quiet! None of the rhymes of
+those days are in print, except "Winter, a dirge," the eldest of my
+printed pieces; "The Death of poor Maillie," "John Barleycorn," and
+songs first, second, and third. Song second was the ebullition of that
+passion which ended the forementioned school-business.
+
+My twenty-third year was to me an important aera. Partly through whim,
+and partly that I wished to set about doing something in life, I
+joined a flax-dresser in a neighboring town (Irvine) to learn his
+trade. This was an unlucky affair. My * * * and to finish the whole,
+as we were giving a welcome carousal to the new year, the shop took
+fire and burnt to ashes, and I was left, like a true poet, not worth a
+sixpence.
+
+I was obliged to give up this scheme; the clouds of misfortune were
+gathering thick round my father's head; and, what was worst of all, he
+was visibly far gone in a consumption; and to crown my distresses, a
+_belle fille_, whom I adored, and who had pledged her soul to meet me
+in the field of matrimony, jilted me, with peculiar circumstances of
+mortification. The finishing evil that brought up the rear of this
+infernal file, was my constitutional melancholy being increased to
+such a degree, that for three months I was in a state of mind scarcely
+to be envied by the hopeless wretches who have got their
+mittimus--depart from me, ye cursed!
+
+From this adventure I learned something of a town life; but the
+principal thing which gave my mind a turn, was a friendship I formed
+with a young fellow, a very noble character, but a hapless son of
+misfortune. He was the son of a simple mechanic; but a great man in
+the neighbourhood taking him under his patronage, gave him a genteel
+education, with a view of bettering his situation in life. The patron
+dying just as he was ready to launch out into the world, the poor
+fellow in despair went to sea; where, after a variety of good and
+ill-fortune, a little before I was acquainted with him he had been set
+on shore by an American privateer, on the wild coast of Connaught,
+stripped of everything. I cannot quit this poor fellow's story without
+adding, that he is at this time master of a large West-Indiaman
+belonging to the Thames.
+
+His mind was fraught with independence, magnanimity, and every manly
+virtue. I loved and admired him to a degree of enthusiasm, and of
+course strove to imitate him. In some measure I succeeded; I had pride
+before, but he taught it to flow in proper channels. His knowledge of
+the world was vastly superior to mine, and I was all attention to
+learn. He was the only man I ever saw who was a greater fool than
+myself where woman was the presiding star; but he spoke of illicit
+love with the levity of a sailor, which hitherto I had regarded with
+horror. Here his friendship did me a mischief, and the consequence
+was, that soon after I resumed the plough, I wrote the "Poet's
+Welcome."[177] My reading only increased while in this town by two stray
+volumes of Pamela, and one of Ferdinand Count Fathom, which gave me
+some idea of novels. Rhyme, except some religious pieces that are in
+print, I had given up; but meeting with Fergusson's Scottish Poems, I
+strung anew my wildly-sounding lyre with emulating vigour. When my
+father died, his all went among the hell-hounds that growl in the
+kennel of justice; but we made a shift to collect a little money in
+the family amongst us, with which, to keep us together, my brother and
+I took a neighbouring farm. My brother wanted my hair-brained
+imagination, as well as my social and amorous madness; but in good
+sense, and every sober qualification, he was far my superior.
+
+I entered on this farm with a full resolution, "come, go to, I will be
+wise!" I read farming books, I calculated crops; I attended markets;
+and in short, in spite of the devil, and the world, and the flesh, I
+believe I should have been a wise man; but the first year, from
+unfortunately buying bad seed, the second from a late harvest, we
+lost half our crops. This overset all my wisdom, and I returned, "like
+the dog to his vomit, and the sow that was washed, to her wallowing in
+the mire."
+
+I now began to be known in the neighbourhood as a maker of rhymes. The
+first of my poetic offspring that saw the light, was a burlesque
+lamentation on a quarrel between two reverend Calvinists, both of them
+_dramatis personae_ in "Holy Fair." I had a notion myself that the
+piece had some merit; but, to prevent the worst, I gave a copy of it
+to a friend, who was very fond of such things, and told him that I
+could not guess who was the author of it, but that I thought it pretty
+clever. With a certain description of the clergy, as well as laity, it
+met with a roar of applause. "Holy Willie's Prayer" next made its
+appearance, and alarmed the kirk-session so much, that they held
+several meetings to look over their spiritual artillery, if haply any
+of it might be pointed against profane rhymers. Unluckily for me, my
+wanderings led me on another side, within point-blank shot of their
+heaviest metal. This is the unfortunate story that gave rise to my
+printed poem, "The Lament." This was a most melancholy affair, which I
+cannot yet bear to reflect on, and had very nearly given me one or two
+of the principal qualifications for a place among those who have lost
+the chart, and mistaken the reckoning of rationality. I gave up my
+part of the farm to my brother; in truth it was only nominally mine;
+and made what little preparation was in my power for Jamaica. But,
+before leaving my native country for ever, I resolved to publish my
+poems. I weighed my productions as impartially as was in my power; I
+thought they had merit; and it was a delicious idea that I should be
+called a clever fellow, even though it should never reach my ears--a
+poor negro-driver--or perhaps a victim to that inhospitable clime, and
+gone to the world of spirits! I can truly say, that _pauvre inconnu_
+as I then was, I had pretty nearly as high an idea of myself and of my
+works as I have at this moment, when the public has decided in their
+favour. It ever was my opinion that the mistakes and blunders, both in
+a rational and religious point of view, of which we see thousands
+daily guilty, are owing to their ignorance of themselves.--To know
+myself had been all along my constant study. I weighed myself alone; I
+balanced myself with others; I watched every means of information, to
+see how much ground I occupied as a man and as a poet; I studied
+assiduously Nature's design in my formation--where the lights and
+shades in my character were intended. I was pretty confident my poems
+would meet with some applause; but, at the worst, the roar of the
+Atlantic would deafen the voice of censure, and the novelty of West
+Indian scenes make me forget neglect. I threw off six hundred copies,
+of which I had got subscriptions for about three hundred and
+fifty.--My vanity was highly gratified by the reception I met with
+from the public; and besides I pocketed, all expenses deducted, nearly
+twenty pounds. This sum came very seasonably, as I was thinking of
+indenting myself, for want of money to procure my passage. As soon as
+I was master of nine guineas, the price of wafting me to the torrid
+zone, I took a steerage passage in the first ship that was to sail
+from the Clyde, for
+
+   "Hungry ruin had me in the wind."
+
+I had been for some days skulking from covert to covert, under all the
+terrors of a jail; as some ill-advised people had uncoupled the
+merciless pack of the law at my heels. I had taken the last farewell
+of my few friends; my chest was on the road to Greenock; I had
+composed the last song I should ever measure in Caledonia--"The gloomy
+night is gathering fast," when a letter from Dr. Blacklock to a friend
+of mine, overthrew all my schemes, by opening new prospects to my
+poetic ambition. The doctor belonged to a set of critics for whose
+applause I had not dared to hope. His opinion, that I would meet with
+encouragement in Edinburgh for a second edition, fired me so much,
+that away I posted for that city, without a single acquaintance, or a
+single letter of introduction. The baneful star that had so long shed
+its blasting influence in my zenith, for once made a revolution to the
+nadir; and a kind Providence placed me under the patronage of one of
+the noblest of men, the Earl of Glencairn. _Oublie-moi, grand Dieu, si
+jamais je l'oublie!_
+
+I need relate no farther. At Edinburgh I was in a new world; I mingled
+among many classes of men, but all of them new to me, and I was all
+attention to "catch" the characters and "the manners living as they
+rise." Whether I have profited, time will show.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+My most respectful compliments to Miss Williams. Her very elegant and
+friendly letter I cannot answer at present, as my presence is
+requisite in Edinburgh, and I set out to-morrow.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 175: Idiot for idiotic.]
+
+[Footnote 176: Paradise Lost, b. iv]
+
+[Footnote 177: "Rob the Rhymer's Welcome to his Bastard Child."--See
+Poem XXXIII.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXV.
+
+
+TO ROBERT AINSLIE, ESQ.,
+
+BERRYWELL DUNSE.
+
+[This characteristic letter was first published by Sir Harris Nichols;
+others, still more characteristic, addressed to the same gentleman,
+are abroad: how they escaped from private keeping is a sort of a
+riddle.]
+
+_Edinburgh, 23d August_, 1787.
+
+    "As I gaed up to Dunse
+      To warp a pickle yarn,
+    Robin, silly body,
+      He gat me wi' bairn."
+
+From henceforth, my dear Sir, I am determined to set off with my
+letters like the periodical writers, viz. prefix a kind of text,
+quoted from some classic of undoubted authority, such as the author of
+the immortal piece, of which my text is part. What I have to say on my
+text is exhausted in a letter which I wrote you the other day, before
+I had the pleasure of receiving yours from Inverkeithing; and sure
+never was anything more lucky, as I have but the time to write this,
+that Mr. Nicol, on the opposite side of the table, takes to correct a
+proof-sheet of a thesis. They are gabbling Latin so loud that I cannot
+hear what my own soul is saying in my own skull, so I must just give
+you a matter-of-fact sentence or two, and end, if time permit, with a
+verse de rei generatione. To-morrow I leave Edinburgh in a chaise;
+Nicol thinks it more comfortable than horseback, to which I say, Amen;
+so Jenny Geddes goes home to Ayrshire, to use a phrase of my mother's,
+wi' her finger in her mouth.
+
+Now for a modest verse of classical authority:
+
+    The cats like kitchen;
+      The dogs like broo;
+    The lasses like the lads weel,
+      And th' auld wives too.
+
+CHORUS.
+
+    And we're a' noddin,
+      Nid, nid, noddin,
+    We're a' noddin fou at e'en.
+
+If this does not please you, let me hear from you; if you write any
+time before the 1st of September, direct to Inverness, to be left at
+the post-office till called for; the next week at Aberdeen, the next
+at Edinburgh.
+
+The sheet is done, and I shall just conclude with assuring you that
+
+I am, and ever with pride shall be,
+
+My dear Sir, &c.
+
+R. B.
+
+Call your boy what you think proper, only interject Burns. What do you
+say to a Scripture name? Zimri Burns Ainslie, or Architophel, &c.,
+look your Bible for these two heroes, if you do this, I will repay the
+compliment.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXVI.
+
+
+TO MR. ROBERT MUIR.
+
+[No Scotsman will ever read, without emotion, the poet's words in this
+letter, and in "Scots wha hae wi Wallace bled," about Bannnockburn and
+its glories.]
+
+_Stirling, 26th August, 1787._
+
+MY DEAR SIR,
+
+I intended to have written you from Edinburgh, and now write you from
+Stirling to make an excuse. Here am I, on my way to Inverness, with a
+truly original, but very worthy man, a Mr. Nicol, one of the masters
+of the High-school, in Edinburgh. I left Auld Reekie yesterday
+morning, and have passed, besides by-excursions, Linlithgow,
+Borrowstouness, Falkirk, and here am I undoubtedly. This morning I
+knelt at the tomb of Sir John the Graham, the gallant friend of the
+immortal Wallace; and two hours ago I said a fervent prayer, for Old
+Caledonia, over the hole in a blue whinstone, where Robert de Bruce
+fixed his royal standard on the banks of Bannockburn; and just now,
+from Stirling Castle, I have seen by the setting sun the glorious
+prospect of the windings of Forth through the rich carse of Stirling,
+and skirting the equally rich carse of Falkirk. The crops are very
+strong, but so very late, that there is no harvest, except a ridge or
+two perhaps in ten miles, all the way I have travelled from Edinburgh.
+
+I left Andrew Bruce and family all well. I will be at least three
+weeks in making my tour, as I shall return by the coast, and have many
+people to call for.
+
+My best compliments to Charles, our dear kinsman and fellow-saint; and
+Messrs. W. and H. Parkers. I hope Hughoc is going on and prospering
+with God and Miss M'Causlin.
+
+If I could think on anything sprightly, I should let you hear every
+other post; but a dull, matter-of-fact business, like this scrawl, the
+less and seldomer one writes, the better.
+
+Among other matters-of-fact I shall add this, that I am and ever shall
+be,
+
+My dear Sir,
+
+Your obliged,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXVII.
+
+
+TO GAVIN HAMILTON, ESQ.
+
+[It is supposed that the warmth of the lover came in this letter to
+the aid of the imagination of the poet, in his account of Charlotte
+Hamilton.]
+
+_Stirling, 28th August_, 1787.
+
+MY DEAR SIR,
+
+Here am I on my way to Inverness. I have rambled over the rich,
+fertile carses of Falkirk and Sterling, and am delighted with their
+appearance: richly waving crops of wheat, barley, &c., but no harvest
+at all yet, except, in one or two places, an old wife's ridge.
+Yesterday morning I rode from this town up the meandering Devon's
+banks, to pay my respects to some Ayrshire folks at Harvieston. After
+breakfast, we made a party to go and see the famous Caudron-linn, a
+remarkable cascade in the Devon, about five miles above Harvieston;
+and after spending one of the most pleasant days I ever had in my
+life, I returned to Stirling in the evening. They are a family, Sir,
+though I had not any prior tie; though they had not been the brother
+and sisters of a certain generous friend of mine, I would never forget
+them. I am told you have not seen them these several years, so you can
+have very little idea of what these young folks are now. Your brother
+is as tall as you are, but slender rather than otherwise; and I have
+the satisfaction to inform you that he is getting the better of those
+consumptive symptoms which I suppose you know were threatening him.
+His make, and particularly his manner, resemble you, but he will still
+have a finer face. (I put in the word _still_ to please Mrs.
+Hamilton.) Good sense, modesty, and at the same time a just idea of
+that respect that man owes to man, and has a right in his turn to
+exact, are striking features in his character; and, what with me is
+the Alpha and the Omega, he has a heart that might adorn the breast of
+a poet! Grace has a good figure, and the look of health and
+cheerfulness, but nothing else remarkable in her person. I scarcely
+ever saw so striking a likeness as is between her and your little
+Beenie; the mouth and chin particularly. She is reserved at first; but
+as we grew better acquainted, I was delighted with the native
+frankness of her manner, and the sterling sense of her observation. Of
+Charlotte I cannot speak in common terms of admiration: she is not
+only beautiful but lovely. Her form is elegant; her features not
+regular, but they have the smile of sweetness and the settled
+complacency of good nature in the highest degree: and her complexion,
+now that she has happily recovered her wonted health, is equal to Miss
+Burnet's. After the exercise of our riding to the Falls, Charlotte was
+exactly Dr. Donne's mistress:--
+
+    --------------"Her pure and eloquent blood
+    Spoke in her cheeks, and so distinctly wrought,
+    That one would almost say her body thought."
+
+Her eyes are fascinating; at once expressive of good sense,
+tenderness, and a noble mind.
+
+I do not give you all this account, my good Sir, to flatter you. I
+mean it to reproach you. Such relations the first peer in the realm
+might own with pride; then why do you not keep up more correspondence
+with these so amiable young folks? I had a thousand questions to
+answer about you. I had to describe the little ones with the
+minuteness of anatomy. They were highly delighted when I told them
+that John was so good a boy, and so fine a scholar, and that Willie
+was going on still very pretty; but I have it in commission to tell
+her from them that beauty is a poor silly bauble without she be good.
+Miss Chalmers I had left in Edinburgh, but I had the pleasure of
+meeting Mrs. Chalmers, only Lady Mackenzie being rather a little
+alarmingly ill of a sore throat somewhat marred our enjoyment.
+
+I shall not be in Ayrshire for four weeks. My most respectful
+compliments to Mrs. Hamilton, Miss Kennedy, and Doctor Mackenzie. I
+shall probably write him from some stage or other.
+
+I am ever, Sir,
+
+Yours most gratefully,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXVIII.
+
+
+TO MR. WALKER,
+
+BLAIR OF ATHOLE.
+
+[Professor Walker was a native of Ayrshire, and an accomplished
+scholar; he saw Burns often in Edinburgh; he saw him at the Earl of
+Athol's on the Bruar; he visited him too at Dumfries; and after the
+copyright of Currie's edition of the poet's works expired, he wrote,
+with much taste and feeling his life anew, and edited his works--what
+passed under his own observation he related with truth and ease.]
+
+_Inverness, 5th September_, 1787.
+
+MY DEAR SIR,
+
+I have just time to write the foregoing,[178] and to tell you that it
+was (at least most part of it) the effusion of an half-hour I spent at
+Bruar. I do not mean it was extempore, for I have endeavoured to brush
+it up as well as Mr. Nicol's chat and the jogging of the chaise would
+allow. It eases my heart a good deal, as rhyme is the coin with which
+a poet pays his debts of honour or gratitude. What I owe to the noble
+family of Athol, of the first kind, I shall ever proudly boast; what I
+owe of the last, so help me God in my hour of need! I shall never
+forget.
+
+The "little angel-band!" I declare I prayed for them very sincerely
+to-day at the Fall of Fyers. I shall never forget the fine
+family-piece I saw at Blair; the amiable, the truly noble duchess,
+with her smiling little seraph in her lap, at the head of the table;
+the lovely "olive plants," as the Hebrew bard finely says, round the
+happy mother: the beautiful Mrs. G----; the lovely sweet Miss C., &c.
+I wish I had the powers of Guido to do them justice! My Lord Duke's
+kind hospitality--markedly kind indeed. Mr. Graham of Fintray's charms
+of conversation--Sir W. Murray's friendship. In short, the
+recollection of all that polite, agreeable company raises an honest
+glow in my bosom.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 178: The Humble Petition of Bruar-water]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXIX.
+
+
+TO MR. GILBERT BURNS.
+
+[The letters of Robert to Gilbert are neither many nor important: the
+latter was a calm, considerate, sensible man, with nothing poetic in
+his composition: he died lately, much and widely respected.]
+
+_Edinburgh, 17th September, 1787._
+
+MY DEAR BROTHER,
+
+I arrived here safe yesterday evening, after a tour of twenty-two
+days, and travelling near six hundred miles, windings included. My
+farthest stretch was about ten miles beyond Inverness. I went through
+the heart of the Highlands by Crieff, Taymouth, the famous seat of
+Lord Breadalbane, down the Tay, among cascades and druidical circles
+of stones, to Dunkeld, a seat of the Duke of Athol; thence across the
+Tay, and up one of his tributary streams to Blair of Athole, another
+of the duke's seats, where I had the honour of spending nearly two
+days with his grace and family; thence many miles through a wild
+country, among cliffs gray with eternal snows and gloomy savage glens,
+till I crossed Spey and went down the stream through Strathspey, so
+famous in Scottish music; Badenoch, &c., till I reached Grant Castle,
+where I spent half a day with Sir James Grant and family; and then
+crossed the country for Fort George, but called by the way at Cawdor,
+the ancient seat of Macbeth; there I saw the identical bed, in which
+tradition says king Duncan was murdered: lastly, from Fort George to
+Inverness.
+
+I returned by the coast, through Nairn, Forres, and so on, to Aberdeen,
+thence to Stonehive, where James Burness, from Montrose, met me by
+appointment. I spent two days among our relations, and found our aunts,
+Jean and Isabel, still alive, and hale old women. John Cairn, though
+born the same year with our father, walks as vigorously as I can: they
+have had several letters from his son in New York. William Brand is
+likewise a stout old fellow; but further particulars I delay till I see
+you, which will be in two or three weeks. The rest of my stages are not
+worth rehearsing: warm as I was from Ossian's country, where I had seen
+his very grave, what cared I for fishing-towns or fertile carses? I
+slept at the famous Brodie of Brodie's one night, and dined at Gordon
+Castle next day, with the duke, duchess and family. I am thinking to
+cause my old mare to meet me, by means of John Ronald, at Glasgow; but
+you shall hear farther from me before I leave Edinburgh. My duty and
+many compliments from the north to my mother; and my brotherly
+compliments to the rest. I have been trying for a berth for William, but
+am not likely to be successful. Farewell.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXX.
+
+
+TO MISS MARGARET CHALMERS.
+
+(NOW MRS. HAY.)
+
+[To Margaret Chalmers, the youngest daughter of James Chalmers, Esq.,
+of Fingland, it is said that Burns confided his affection to Charlotte
+Hamilton: his letters to Miss Chalmers, like those to Mrs. Dunlop, are
+distinguished for their good sense and delicacy as well as freedom.]
+
+_Sept. 26, 1787._
+
+I send Charlotte the first number of the songs; I would not wait for
+the second number; I hate delays in little marks of friendship, as I
+hate dissimulation in the language of the heart. I am determined to
+pay Charlotte a poetic compliment, if I could hit on some glorious old
+Scotch air, in number second.[179] You will see a small attempt on a
+shred of paper in the book: but though Dr. Blacklock commended it very
+highly, I am not just satisfied with it myself. I intend to make it a
+description of some kind: the whining cant of love, except in real
+passion, and by a masterly hand, is to me as insufferable as the
+preaching cant of old Father Smeaton, whig-minister at Kilmaurs.
+Darts, flames, cupids, loves, graces, and all that farrago, are just a
+Mauchline * * * * a senseless rabble.
+
+I got an excellent poetic epistle yesternight from the old, venerable
+author of "Tullochgorum," "John of Badenyon," &c. I suppose you know
+he is a clergyman. It is by far the finest poetic compliment I ever
+got. I will send you a copy of it.
+
+I go on Thursday or Friday to Dumfries, to wait on Mr. Miller about
+his farms.--Do tell that to Lady Mackenzie, that she may give me
+credit for a little wisdom. "I Wisdom dwell with Prudence." What a
+blessed fire-side! How happy should I be to pass a winter evening
+under their venerable roof! and smoke a pipe of tobacco, or drink
+water-gruel with them! What solemn, lengthened, laughter-quashing
+gravity of phiz! What sage remarks on the good-for-nothing sons and
+daughters of indiscretion and folly! And what frugal lessons, as we
+straitened the fire-side circle, on the uses of the poker and tongs!
+
+Miss N. is very well, and begs to be remembered in the old way to you.
+I used all my eloquence, all the persuasive flourishes of the hand,
+and heart-melting modulation of periods in my power, to urge her out
+to Harvieston, but all in vain. My rhetoric seems quite to have lost
+its effect on the lovely half of mankind. I have seen the day--but
+that is a "tale of other years."--In my conscience I believe that my
+heart has been so oft on fire that it is absolutely vitrified. I look
+on the sex with something like the admiration with which I regard the
+starry sky in a frosty December night. I admire the beauty of the
+Creator's workmanship; I am charmed with the wild but graceful
+eccentricity of their motions, and--wish them good night. I mean this
+with respect to a certain passion _dont j'ai eu l'honneur d'etre un
+miserable esclave_: as for friendship, you and Charlotte have given me
+pleasure, permanent pleasure, "which the world cannot give, nor take
+away," I hope; and which will outlast the heavens and the earth.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 179: Of the Scots Musical Museum]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXXI.
+
+
+TO MISS MARGARET CHALMERS.
+
+[That fine song, "The Banks of the Devon," dedicated to the charms of
+Charlotte Hamilton, was enclosed in the following letter.]
+
+_Without date._
+
+I have been at Dumfries, and at one visit more shall be decided about
+a farm in that country. I am rather hopeless in it; but as my brother
+is an excellent farmer, and is, besides, an exceedingly prudent, sober
+man (qualities which are only a younger brother's fortune in our
+family), I am determined, if my Dumfries business fail me, to return
+into partnership with him, and at our leisure take another farm in the
+neighbourhood.
+
+I assure you I look for high compliments from you and Charlotte on
+this very sage instance of my unfathomable, incomprehensible wisdom.
+Talking of Charlotte, I must tell her that I have, to the best of my
+power, paid her a poetic compliment, now completed. The air is
+admirable: true old Highland. It was the tune of a Gaelic song, which
+an Inverness lady sung me when I was there; and I was so charmed with
+it that I begged her to write me a set of it from her singing; for it
+had never been set before. I am fixed that it shall go in Johnson's
+next number; so Charlotte and you need not spend your precious time in
+contradicting me. I won't say the poetry is first-rate; though I am
+convinced it is very well; and, what is not always the case with
+compliments to ladies, it is not only sincere, but just.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXXII.
+
+
+TO JAMES HOY, ESQ.
+
+GORDON CASTLE
+
+[James Hoy, librarian of Gordon Castle, was, it is said, the gentleman
+whom his grace of Gordon sent with a message inviting in vain that
+"obstinate son of Latin prose," Nicol, to stop and enjoy himself.]
+
+_Edinburgh, 20th October_, 1787.
+
+SIR,
+
+I will defend my conduct in giving you this trouble, on the best of
+Christian principles--"Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto
+you, do ye even so unto them."--I shall certainly, among my legacies,
+leave my latest curse to that unlucky predicament which hurried--tore
+me away from Castle Gordon. May that obstinate son of Latin prose
+[Nicol] be curst to Scotch mile periods, and damned to seven league
+paragraphs; while Declension and Conjugation, Gender, Number, and
+Time, under the ragged banners of Dissonance and Disarrangement,
+eternally rank against him in hostile array.
+
+Allow me, Sir, to strengthen the small claim I have to your
+acquaintance, by the following request. An engraver, James Johnson, in
+Edinburgh, has, not from mercenary views, but from an honest, Scotch
+enthusiasm, set about collecting all our native songs and setting them
+to music; particularly those that have never been set before. Clarke,
+the well known musician, presides over the musical arrangement, and
+Drs. Beattie and Blacklock, Mr. Tytler, of Woodhouselee, and your
+humble servant to the utmost of his small power, assist in collecting
+the old poetry, or sometimes for a fine air make a stanza, when it has
+no words. The brats, too tedious to mention, claim a parental pang
+from my bardship. I suppose it will appear in Johnson's second
+number--the first was published before my acquaintance with him. My
+request is--"Cauld Kail in Aberdeen," is one intended for this number,
+and I beg a copy of his Grace of Gordon's words to it, which you were
+so kind as to repeat to me. You may be sure we won't prefix the
+author's name, except you like, though I look on it as no small merit
+to this work that the names of many of the authors of our old Scotch
+songs, names almost forgotten, will be inserted.
+
+I do not well know where to write to you--I rather write at you; but
+if you will be so obliging, immediately on receipt of this, as to
+write me a few lines, I shall perhaps pay you in kind, though not in
+quality. Johnson's terms are:--each number a handsome pocket volume,
+to consist at least of a hundred Scotch songs, with basses for the
+harpsichord, &c. The price to subscribers 5s.; to non-subscribers 6s.
+He will have three numbers I conjecture.
+
+My direction for two or three weeks will be at Mr. William
+Cruikshank's, St. James's-square, New-town, Edinburgh.
+
+I am,
+
+Sir,
+
+Your's to command,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXXIII.
+
+
+TO REV. JOHN SKINNER.
+
+[The songs of "Tullochgorum," and "John of Badenyon," have made the
+name of Skinner dear to all lovers of Scottish verse: he was a man
+cheerful and pious, nor did the family talent expire with him: his son
+became Bishop of Aberdeen.]
+
+_Edinburgh, October 25,_ 1787.
+
+REVEREND AND VENERABLE SIR,
+
+Accept, in plain dull prose, my most sincere thanks for the best
+poetical compliment I ever received. I assure you, Sir, as a poet, you
+have conjured up an airy demon of vanity in my fancy, which the best
+abilities in your other capacity would be ill able to lay. I regret,
+and while I live I shall regret, that when I was in the north, I had
+not the pleasure of paying a younger brother's dutiful respect to the
+author of the best Scotch song ever Scotland saw--"Tullochgorum's my
+delight!" The world may think slightingly of the craft of song-making,
+if they please, but, as Job says--"Oh! that mine adversary had written
+a book!"--let them try. There is a certain something in the old Scotch
+songs, a wild happiness of thought and expression, which peculiarly
+marks them, not only from English songs, but also from the modern
+efforts of song-wrights in our native manner and language. The only
+remains of this enchantment, these spells of the imagination, rests
+with you. Our true brother, Ross of Lochlee, was likewise "owre
+cannie"--a "wild warlock"--but now he sings among the "sons of the
+morning."
+
+I have often wished, and will certainly endeavour to form a kind of
+common acquaintance among all the genuine sons of Caledonian song. The
+world, busy in low prosaic pursuits, may overlook most of us; but
+"reverence thyself." The world is not our _peers_, so we challenge the
+jury. We can lash that world, and find ourselves a very great source
+of amusement and happiness independent of that world.
+
+There is a work going on in Edinburgh, just now, which claims your
+best assistance. An engraver in this town has set about collecting and
+publishing all the Scotch songs, with the music, that can be found.
+Songs in the English language, if by Scotchmen, are admitted, but the
+music must all be Scotch. Drs. Beattie and Blacklock are lending a
+hand, and the first musician in town presides over that department. I
+have been absolutely crazed about it, collecting old stanzas, and
+every information respecting their origin, authors, &c. &c. This last
+is but a very fragment business; but at the end of his second
+number--the first is already published--a small account will be given
+of the authors, particularly to preserve those of latter times. Your
+three songs, "Tullochgorum," "John of Badenyon," and "Ewie wi' the
+crookit horn," go in this second number. I was determined, before I
+got your letter, to write you, begging that you would let me know
+where the editions of these pieces may be found, as you would wish
+them to continue in future times: and if you would be so kind to this
+undertaking as send any songs, of your own or others, that you would
+think proper to publish, your name will be inserted among the other
+authors,--"Nill ye, will ye." One half of Scotland already give your
+songs to other authors. Paper is done. I beg to hear from you; the
+sooner the better, as I leave Edinburgh in a fortnight or three
+weeks.--
+
+I am,
+
+With the warmest sincerity, Sir,
+
+Your obliged humble servant,--R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXXIV.
+
+
+TO JAMES HOY, ESQ.
+
+AT GORDON CASTLE, FOCHABERS.
+
+[In singleness of heart and simplicity of manners James Hoy is said,
+by one who knew him well, to have rivalled Dominie Sampson: his love
+of learning and his scorn of wealth are still remembered to his
+honour.]
+
+_Edinburgh, 6th November_, 1787.
+
+DEAR SIR,
+
+I would have wrote you immediately on receipt of your kind letter, but
+a mixed impulse of gratitude and esteem whispered me that I ought to
+send you something by way of return. When a poet owes anything,
+particularly when he is indebted for good offices, the payment that
+usually recurs to him--the only coin indeed in which he probably is
+conversant--is rhyme. Johnson sends the books by the fly, as directed,
+and begs me to enclose his most grateful thanks: my return I intended
+should have been one or two poetic bagatelles which the world have not
+seen, or, perhaps, for obvious reasons, cannot see. These I shall send
+you before I leave Edinburgh. They may make you laugh a little, which,
+on the whole, is no bad way of spending one's precious hours and still
+more precious breath: at any rate, they will be, though a small, yet a
+very sincere mark of my respectful esteem for a gentleman whose
+further acquaintance I should look upon as a peculiar obligation.
+
+The duke's song, independent totally of his dukeship, charms me. There
+is I know not what of wild happiness of thought and expression
+peculiarly beautiful in the old Scottish song style, of which his
+Grace, old venerable Skinner, the author of "Tullochgorum," &c., and
+the late Ross, at Lochlee, of true Scottish poetic memory, are the
+only modern instances that I recollect, since Ramsay with his
+contemporaries, and poor Bob Fergusson, went to the world of deathless
+existence and truly immortal song. The mob of mankind, that
+many-headed beast, would laugh at so serious a speech about an old
+song; but as Job says, "O that mine adversary had written a book!"
+Those who think that composing a Scotch song is a trifling
+business--let them try.
+
+I wish my Lord Duke would pay a proper attention to the Christian
+admonition--"Hide not your candle under a bushel," but "let your light
+shine before men." I could name half a dozen dukes that I guess are a
+devilish deal worse employed: nay, I question if there are half a
+dozen better: perhaps there are not half that scanty number whom
+Heaven has favoured with the tuneful, happy, and, I will say, glorious
+gift.
+
+I am, dear Sir,
+
+Your obliged humble servant,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXXV.
+
+
+TO MR. ROBERT AINSLIE,
+
+EDINBURGH.
+
+["I set you down," says Burns, elsewhere, to Ainslie, "as the staff of
+my old age, when all my other friends, after a decent show of pity,
+will have forgot me."]
+
+_Edinburgh, Sunday Morning_,
+
+_Nov._ 23, 1787.
+
+I Beg, my dear Sir, you would not make any appointment to take us to
+Mr. Ainslie's to-night. On looking over my engagements, constitution,
+present state of my health, some little vexatious soul concerns, &c.,
+I find I can't sup abroad to-night. I shall be in to-day till one
+o'clock if you have a leisure hour.
+
+You will think it romantic when I tell you, that I find the idea of
+your friendship almost necessary to my existence.--You assume a proper
+length of face in my bitter hours of blue-devilism, and you laugh
+fully up to my highest wishes at my good things.--I don't know upon
+the whole, if you are one of the first fellows in God's world, but you
+are so to me. I tell you this just now in the conviction that some
+inequalities in my temper and manner may perhaps sometimes make you
+suspect that I am not so warmly as I ought to be your friend.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXXVI.
+
+
+TO THE EARL OF GLENCAIRN.
+
+[The views of Burns were always humble: he regarded a place in the
+excise as a thing worthy of paying court for, both in verse and
+prose.]
+
+_Edinburgh_, 1787.
+
+MY LORD,
+
+I know your lordship will disapprove of my ideas in a request I am
+going to make to you; but I have weighed, long and seriously weighed,
+my situation, my hopes and turn of mind, and am fully fixed to my
+scheme if I can possibly effectuate it. I wish to get into the Excise;
+I am told that your lordship's interest will easily procure me the
+grant from the commissioners; and your lordship's patronage and
+goodness, which have already rescued me from obscurity, wretchedness,
+and exile, embolden me to ask that interest. You have likewise put it
+in my power to save the little tie of home that sheltered an aged
+mother, two brothers, and three sisters from destruction. There, my
+lord, you have bound me over to the highest gratitude.
+
+My brother's farm is but a wretched lease, but I think he will
+probably weather out the remaining seven years of it; and after the
+assistance which I have given and will give him, to keep the family
+together, I think, by my guess, I shall have rather better than two
+hundred pounds, and instead of seeking, what is almost impossible at
+present to find, a farm that I can certainly live by, with so small a
+stock, I shall lodge this sum in a banking-house, a sacred deposit,
+expecting only the calls of uncommon distress or necessitous old age.
+
+These, my lord, are my views: I have resolved from the maturest
+deliberation; and now I am fixed, I shall leave no stone unturned to
+carry my resolve into execution. Your lordship's patronage is the
+strength of my hopes; nor have I yet applied to anybody else. Indeed
+my heart sinks within me at the idea of applying to any other of the
+great who have honoured me with their countenance. I am ill qualified
+to dog the heels of greatness with the impertinence of solicitation,
+and tremble nearly as much at the thought of the cold promise as the
+cold denial; but to your lordship I have not only the honour, the
+comfort, but the pleasure of being
+
+Your lordship's much obliged
+
+And deeply indebted humble servant,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXXVII.
+
+
+TO JAMES DALRYMPLE, ESQ.
+
+ORANGEFIELD.
+
+[James Dalrymple, Esq., of Orangefield, was a gentleman of birth and
+poetic tastes--he interested himself in the fortunes of Burns.]
+
+_Edinburgh_, 1787.
+
+DEAR SIR,
+
+I suppose the devil is so elated with his success with you that he is
+determined by a _coup de main_ to complete his purposes on you all at
+once, in making you a poet. I broke open the letter you sent me;
+hummed over the rhymes; and, as I saw they were extempore, said to
+myself, they were very well; but when I saw at the bottom a name that
+I shall ever value with grateful respect, "I gapit wide, but naething
+spak." I was nearly as much struck as the friends of Job, of
+affliction-bearing memory, when they sat down with him seven days and
+seven nights, and spake not a word.
+
+I am naturally of a superstitious cast, and as soon as my
+wonder-scared imagination regained its consciousness, and resumed its
+functions, I cast about what this mania of yours might portend. My
+foreboding ideas had the wide stretch of possibility; and several
+events, great in their magnitude, and important in their consequences,
+occurred to my fancy. The downfall of the conclave, or the crushing of
+the Cork rumps; a ducal coronet to Lord George Gordon and the
+Protestant interest; or St. Peter's keys to * * * * * *.
+
+You want to know how I come on. I am just in _statu quo_, or, not to
+insult a gentleman with my Latin, in "auld use and wont." The noble
+Earl of Glencairn took me by the hand to-day, and interested himself
+in my concerns, with a goodness like that benevolent Being, whose
+image he so richly bears. He is a stronger proof of the immortality of
+the soul, than any that philosophy ever produced. A mind like his can
+never die. Let the worshipful squire H. L., or the reverend Mass J. M.
+go into their primitive nothing. At best, they are but ill-digested
+lumps of chaos, only one of them strongly tinged with bituminous
+particles and sulphureous effluvia. But my noble patron, eternal as
+the heroic swell of magnanimity, and the generous throb of
+benevolence, shall look on with princely eye at "the war of elements,
+the wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds."
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXXVIII.
+
+
+TO CHARLES HAY. ESQ.,
+
+ADVOCATE.
+
+[The verses enclosed were written on the death of the Lord President
+Dundas, at the suggestion of Charles Hay, Esq., advocate, afterwards a
+judge, under the title of Lord Newton.]
+
+SIR,
+
+The enclosed poem was written in consequence of your suggestion, last
+time I had the pleasure of seeing you. It cost me an hour or two of
+next morning's sleep, but did not please me; so it lay by, an
+ill-digested effort, till the other day that I gave it a critic brush.
+These kind of subjects are much hackneyed; and, besides, the wailings
+of the rhyming tribe over the ashes of the great are cursedly
+suspicious, and out of all character for sincerity. These ideas damped
+my muse's fire; however, I have done the best I could, and, at all
+events, it gives me an opportunity of declaring that I have the honour
+to be, Sir, your obliged humble servant,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LXXXIX.
+
+
+TO MISS M----N.
+
+[This letter appeared for the first time in the "Letters to Clarinda,"
+a little work which was speedily suppressed--it is, on the whole, a
+sort of Corydon and Phillis affair, with here and there expressions
+too graphic, and passages over-warm. Who the lady was is not known--or
+known only to one.]
+
+_Saturday Noon, No. 2, St. James's Square_,
+
+_New Town, Edinburgh_
+
+Here have I sat, my 'dear Madam, in the stony altitude of perplexed
+study for fifteen vexatious minutes, my head askew, bending over the
+intended card; my fixed eye insensible to the very light of day poured
+around; my pendulous goose-feather, loaded with ink, hanging over the
+future letter, all for the important purpose of writing a
+complimentary card to accompany your trinket.
+
+Compliment is such a miserable Greenland expression, lies at such a
+chilly polar distance from the torrid zone of my constitution, that I
+cannot, for the very soul of me, use it to any person for whom I have
+the twentieth part of the esteem every one must have for you who knows
+you.
+
+As I leave town in three or four days, I can give myself the pleasure
+of calling on you only for a minute. Tuesday evening, some time about
+seven or after, I shall wait on you for your farewell commands.
+
+The hinge of your box I put into the hands of the proper connoisseur.
+The broken glass, likewise, went under review; but deliberative wisdom
+thought it would too much endanger the whole fabric.
+
+I am, dear Madam,
+
+With all sincerity of enthusiasm,
+
+Your very obedient servant,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XC.
+
+
+TO MISS CHALMERS.
+
+[Some dozen or so, it is said, of the most beautiful letters that
+Burns ever wrote, and dedicated to the beauty of Charlotte Hamilton,
+were destroyed by that lady, in a moment when anger was too strong for
+reflection.]
+
+_Edinburgh, Nov._ 21, 1787.
+
+I have one vexatious fault to the kindly-welcome, well-filled sheet
+which I owe to your and Charlotte's goodness,--it contains too much
+sense, sentiment, and good-spelling. It is impossible that even you
+two, whom I declare to my God I will give credit for any degree of
+excellence the sex are capable of attaining, it is impossible you can
+go on to correspond at that rate; so like those who, Shenstone says,
+retire because they make a good speech, I shall, after a few letters,
+hear no more of you. I insist that you shall write whatever comes
+first: what you see, what you read, what you hear, what you admire,
+what you dislike, trifles, bagatelles, nonsense; or to fill up a
+corner, e'en put down a laugh at full length. Now none of your polite
+hints about flattery; I leave that to your lovers, if you have or
+shall have any; though, thank heaven, I have found at last two girls
+who can be luxuriantly happy in their own minds and with one another,
+without that commonly necessary appendage to female bliss--A LOVER.
+
+Charlotte and you are just two favourite resting-places for my soul in
+her wanderings through the weary, thorny wilderness of this world. God
+knows I am ill-fitted for the struggle: I glory in being a Poet, and I
+want to be thought a wise man--I would fondly be generous, and I wish
+to be rich. After all, I am afraid I am a lost subject. "Some folk hae
+a hantle o' fauts, an' I'm but a ne'er-do-weel."
+
+_Afternoon_--To close the melancholy reflections at the end of last
+sheet, I shall just add a piece of devotion commonly known in Carrick
+by the title of the "Wabster's grace:"--
+
+    "Some say we're thieves, and e'en sae are we,
+    Some say we lie, and e'en sae do we!
+    Gude forgie us, and I hope sae will he!
+    --Up and to your looms, lads."
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XCI.
+
+
+TO MISS CHALMERS.
+
+[The "Ochel-Hills," which the poet promises in this letter, is a song,
+beginning,
+
+    "Where braving angry winter's storms
+      The lofty Ochels rise,"
+
+written in honour of Margaret Chalmers, and published along with the
+"Banks of the Devon," in Johnson's Musical Museum.]
+
+_Edinburgh, Dec._ 12, 1787.
+
+I am here under the care of a surgeon, with a bruised limb extended on
+a cushion; and the tints of my mind vying with the livid horror
+preceding a midnight thunder-storm. A drunken coachman was the cause
+of the first, and incomparably the lightest evil; misfortune, bodily
+constitution, hell, and myself have formed a "quadruple alliance" to
+guaranty the other. I got my fall on Saturday, and am getting slowly
+better.
+
+I have taken tooth and nail to the Bible, and am got through the five
+books of Moses, and half way in Joshua. It is really a glorious book.
+I sent for my bookbinder to-day, and ordered him to get me an octavo
+Bible in sheets, the best paper and print in town; and bind it with
+all the elegance of his craft.
+
+I would give my best song to my worst enemy, I mean the merit of
+making it, to have you and Charlotte by me. You are angelic creatures,
+and would pour oil and wine into my wounded spirit.
+
+I enclose you a proof copy of the "Banks of the Devon," which present
+with my best wishes to Charlotte. The "Ochel-hills" you shall probably
+have next week for yourself. None of your fine speeches!
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XCII.
+
+
+TO MISS CHALMERS.
+
+[The eloquent hypochondriasm of the concluding paragraph of this
+letter, called forth the commendation of Lord Jeffrey, when he
+criticised Cromek's Reliques of Burns, in the Edinburgh Review.]
+
+_Edinburgh, Dec._ 19, 1787.
+
+I begin this letter in answer to yours of the 17th current, which is
+not yet cold since I read it. The atmosphere of my soul is vastly
+clearer than when I wrote you last. For the first time, yesterday I
+crossed the room on crutches. It would do your heart good to see my
+hardship, not on my poetic, but on my oaken stilts; throwing my best
+leg with an air! and with as much hilarity in my gait and countenance,
+as a May frog leaping across the newly harrowed ridge, enjoying the
+fragrance of the refreshed earth, after the long-expected shower!
+
+I can't say I am altogether at my ease when I see anywhere in my path
+that meagre, squalid, famine-faced spectre, Poverty; attended as he
+always is, by iron-fisted oppression, and leering contempt; but I have
+sturdily withstood his buffetings many a hard-laboured day already,
+and still my motto is--I DARE! My worst enemy is _moi-meme._
+I lie so miserably open to the inroads and incursions of a
+mischievous, light-armed, well-mounted banditti, under the banners of
+imagination, whim, caprice, and passion: and the heavy-armed veteran
+regulars of wisdom, prudence, and forethought move so very, very slow,
+that I am almost in a state of perpetual warfare, and, alas! frequent
+defeat. There are just two creatures I would envy, a horse in his wild
+state traversing the forests of Asia, or an oyster on some of the
+desert shores of Europe. The one has not a wish without enjoyment, the
+other has neither wish nor fear.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XCIII.
+
+
+TO SIR JOHN WHITEFOORD.
+
+[The Whitefoords of Whitefoord, interested themselves in all matters
+connected with literature: the power of the family, unluckily for
+Burns, was not equal to their taste.]
+
+_Edinburgh, December_, 1787.
+
+SIR,
+
+Mr. Mackenzie, in Mauchline, my very warm and worthy friend, has
+informed me how much you are pleased to interest yourself in my fate
+as a man, and (what to me is incomparably dearer) my fame as a poet.
+I have, Sir, in one or two instances, been patronized by those of your
+character in life, when I was introduced to their notice by * * * * *
+friends to them and honoured acquaintances to me! but you are the
+first gentleman in the country whose benevolence and goodness of heart
+has interested himself for me, unsolicited and unknown. I am not
+master enough of the etiquette of these matters to know, nor did I
+stay to inquire, whether formal duty bade, or cold propriety
+disallowed, my thanking you in this manner, as I am convinced, from
+the light in which you kindly view me, that you will do me the justice
+to believe this letter is not the manoeuvre of the needy, sharping
+author, fastening on those in upper life, who honour him with a little
+notice of him or his works. Indeed, the situation of poets is
+generally such, to a proverb, as may, in some measure, palliate that
+prostitution of heart and talents, they have at times been guilty of.
+I do not think prodigality is, by any means, a necessary concomitant
+of a poetic turn, but I believe a careless indolent attention to
+economy, is almost inseparable from it; then there must be in the
+heart of every bard of Nature's making, a certain modest sensibility,
+mixed with a kind of pride, that will ever keep him out of the way of
+those windfalls of fortune which frequently light on hardy impudence
+and foot-licking servility. It is not easy to imagine a more helpless
+state than his whose poetic fancy unfits him for the world, and whose
+character as a scholar gives him some pretensions to the _politesse_
+of life--yet is as poor as I am.
+
+For my part, I thank Heaven my star has been kinder; learning never
+elevated my ideas above the peasant's shed, and I have an independent
+fortune at the plough-tail.
+
+I was surprised to hear that any one who pretended in the least to the
+manners of the gentleman, should be so foolish, or worse, as to stoop
+to traduce the morals of such a one as I am, and so inhumanly cruel,
+too, as to meddle with that late most unfortunate, unhappy part of my
+story. With a tear of gratitude, I thank you, Sir, for the warmth with
+which you interposed in behalf of my conduct. I am, I acknowledge, too
+frequently the sport of whim, caprice, and passion, but reverence to
+God, and integrity to my fellow-creatures, I hope I shall ever
+preserve. I have no return, Sir, to make you for your goodness but
+one--a return which, I am persuaded, will not be unacceptable--the
+honest, warm wishes of a grateful heart for your happiness, and every
+one of that lovely flock, who stand to you in a filial relation. If
+ever calumny aim the poisoned shaft at them, may friendship be by to
+ward the blow!
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XCIV.
+
+
+TO MISS WILLIAMS,
+
+ON READING HER POEM OF THE SLAVE-TRADE.
+
+[The name and merits of Miss Williams are widely known; nor is it a
+small honour to her muse that her tender song of "Evan Banks" was
+imputed to Burns by Cromek: other editors since have continued to
+include it in his works, though Sir Walter Scott named the true
+author.]
+
+_Edinburgh, Dec._ 1787.
+
+I know very little of scientific criticism, so all I can pretend to in
+that intricate art is merely to note, as I read along, what passages
+strike me as being uncommonly beautiful, and where the expression
+seems to be perplexed or faulty.
+
+The poem opens finely. There are none of these idle prefatory lines
+which one may skip over before one comes to the subject. Verses 9th
+and 10th in particular,
+
+          "Where ocean's unseen bound
+    Leaves a drear world of waters round,"
+
+are truly beautiful. The simile of the hurricane is likewise fine;
+and, indeed, beautiful as the poem is, almost all the similes rise
+decidedly above it. From verse 31st to verse 50th is a pretty eulogy
+on Britain. Verse 36th, "That foul drama deep with wrong," is nobly
+expressive. Verse 46th, I am afraid, is rather unworthy of the rest;
+"to dare to feel" is an idea that I do not altogether like. The
+contrast of valour and mercy, from the 36th verse to the 50th, is
+admirable.
+
+Either my apprehension is dull, or there is something a little
+confused in the apostrophe to Mr. Pitt. Verse 55th is the antecedent
+to verses 57th and 58th, but in verse 58th the connexion seems
+ungrammatical:--
+
+    "Powers. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
+    . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
+    With no gradation mark'd their flight,
+    But rose at once to glory's height."
+
+Ris'n should be the word instead of rose. Try it in prose.
+Powers,--their flight marked by no gradations, but [the same powers]
+risen at once to the height of glory. Likewise, verse 53d, "For this,"
+is evidently meant to lead on the sense of the verses 59th, 60th,
+61st, and 62d: but let us try how the thread of connexion runs,--
+
+    "For this . . . . . . . . . .
+    . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
+    The deeds of mercy, that embrace
+    A distant sphere, an alien race,
+    Shall virtue's lips record and claim
+    The fairest honours of thy name."
+
+I beg pardon if I misapprehended the matter, but this appears to me
+the only imperfect passage in the poem. The comparison of the sunbeam
+is fine.
+
+The compliment to the Duke of Richmond is, I hope, as just as it is
+certainly elegant The thought,
+
+    "Virtue . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
+    . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
+    Sends from her unsullied source,
+    The gems of thought their purest force,"
+
+is exceeding beautiful. The idea, from verse 81st to the 85th, that
+the "blest decree" is like the beams of morning ushering in the
+glorious day of liberty, ought not to pass unnoticed or unapplauded.
+From verse 85th to verse 108th, is an animated contrast between the
+unfeeling selfishness of the oppressor on the one hand, and the misery
+of the captive on the other. Verse 88th might perhaps be amended thus:
+"Nor ever _quit_ her narrow maze." We are said to _pass_ a bound, but
+we _quit_, a maze. Verse 100th is exquisitely beautiful:--
+
+    "They, whom wasted blessings tire."
+
+Verse 110th is I doubt a clashing of metaphors: "to load a span" is, I
+am afraid, an unwarrantable expression. In verse 114th, "Cast the
+universe in shade," is a fine idea. From the 115th verse to the 142d
+is a striking description of the wrongs of the poor African. Verse
+120th, "The load of unremitted pain," is a remarkable, strong
+expression. The address to the advocates for abolishing the
+slave-trade, from verse 143d to verse 208th, is animated with the true
+life of genius. The picture of oppression:--
+
+    "While she links her impious chain,
+    And calculates the price of pain;
+    Weighs agony in sordid scales,
+    And marks if death or life prevails,"--
+
+is nobly executed.
+
+What a tender idea is in verse 108th! Indeed, that whole description
+of home may vie with Thomson's description of home, somewhere in the
+beginning of his Autumn. I do not remember to have seen a stronger
+expression of misery than is contained in these verses:--
+
+    "Condemned, severe extreme, to live
+    When all is fled that life can give"
+
+The comparison of our distant joys to distant objects is equally
+original and striking.
+
+The character and manners of the dealer in the infernal traffic is a
+well done though a horrid picture. I am not sure how far introducing
+the sailor was right; for though the sailor's common characteristic is
+generosity, yet, in this case, he is certainly not only an unconcerned
+witness, but, in some degree, an efficient agent in the business.
+Verse 224th is a nervous ... expressive--"The heart convulsive anguish
+breaks." The description of the captive wretch when he arrives in the
+West Indies, is carried on with equal spirit. The thought that the
+oppressor's sorrow on seeing the slave pine, is like the butcher's
+regret when his destined lamb dies a natural death, is exceedingly
+fine.
+
+I am got so much into the cant of criticism, that I begin to be afraid
+lest I have nothing except the cant of it; and instead of elucidating
+my author, am only benighting myself. For this reason, I will not
+pretend to go through the whole poem. Some few remaining beautiful
+lines, however, I cannot pass over. Verse 280th is the strongest
+description of selfishness I ever saw. The comparison of verses 285th
+and 286th is new and fine; and the line, "Your arms to penury you
+lend," is excellent. In verse 317th, "like" should certainly be "as"
+or "so;" for instance--
+
+    "His sway the hardened bosom leads
+    To cruelty's remorseless deeds:
+    As (or, so) the blue lightning when it springs
+    With fury on its livid wings,
+    Darts on the goal with rapid force,
+    Nor heeds that ruin marks its course."
+
+If you insert the word "like" where I have placed "as," you must alter
+"darts" to "darting," and "heeds" to "heeding" in order to make it
+grammar. A tempest is a favourite subject with the poets, but I do not
+remember anything even in Thomson's Winter superior to your verses
+from the 347th to the 351st. Indeed, the last simile, beginning with
+"Fancy may dress," &c., and ending with the 350th verse, is, in my
+opinion, the most beautiful passage in the poem; it would do honour to
+the greatest names that ever graced our profession.
+
+I will not beg your pardon, Madam, for these strictures, as my
+conscience tells me, that for once in my life I have acted up to the
+duties of a Christian, in doing as I would be done by.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XCV.
+
+
+TO MR. RICHARD BROWN,
+
+IRVINE.
+
+[Richard Brown was the "hapless son of misfortune," alluded to by
+Burns in his biographical letter to Dr. Moore: by fortitude and
+prudence he retrieved his fortunes, and lived much respected in
+Greenock, to a good old age. He said Burns had little to learn in
+matters of levity, when he became acquainted with him.]
+
+_Edinburgh, 30th Dec._ 1787.
+
+MY DEAR SIR,
+
+I have met with few things in life which have given me more pleasure
+than Fortune's kindness to you since those days in which we met in the
+vale of misery; as I can honestly say, that I never knew a man who
+more truly deserved it, or to whom my heart more truly wished it. I
+have been much indebted since that time to your story and sentiments
+for steeling my mind against evils, of which I have had a pretty
+decent share. My will-o'wisp fate you know: do you recollect a Sunday
+we spent together in Eglinton woods! You told me, on my repeating some
+verses to you, that you wondered I could resist the temptation of
+sending verses of such merit to a magazine. It was from this remark I
+derived that idea of my own pieces, which encouraged me to endeavour
+at the character of a poet. I am happy to hear that you will be two or
+three months at home. As soon as a bruised limb will permit me, I
+shall return to Ayrshire, and we shall meet; "and faith, I hope we'll
+not sit dumb, nor yet cast out!"
+
+I have much to tell you "of men, their manners, and their ways,"
+perhaps a little of the other sex. Apropos, I beg to be remembered to
+Mrs. Brown. There I doubt not, my dear friend, but you have found
+substantial happiness. I expect to find you something of an altered
+but not a different man; the wild, bold, generous young fellow
+composed into the steady affectionate husband, and the fond careful
+parent. For me, I am just the same will-o'-wisp being I used to be.
+About the first and fourth quarters of the moon, I generally set in
+for the trade wind of wisdom: but about the full and change, I am the
+luckless victim of mad tornadoes, which blow me into chaos. Almighty
+love still reigns and revels in my bosom; and I am at this moment
+ready to hang myself for a young Edinburgh widow, who has wit and
+wisdom more murderously fatal than the assassinating stiletto of the
+Sicilian banditti, or the poisoned arrow of the savage African. My
+highland dirk, that used to hang beside my crutches, I have gravely
+removed into a neighbouring closet, the key of which I cannot command
+in case of spring-tide paroxysms. You may guess of her wit by
+the following verses, which she sent me the other day:--
+
+    Talk not of love, it gives me pain,
+      For love has been my foe;
+    He bound me with an iron chain,
+      And plunged me deep in woe!
+
+    But friendship's pure and lasting joys.
+      My heart was formed to prove,--
+    There, welcome, win, and wear the prize,
+      But never talk of love!
+
+    Your friendship much can make me blest--
+      O why that bliss destroy?
+    Why urge the odious one request,
+      You know I must deny?[180]
+
+My best compliments to our friend Allan.
+
+Adieu!
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 180: See song 186, in Johnson's Musical Museum. Burns altered
+the two last lines, and added a stanza:
+
+    Why urge the only one request
+      You know I will deny!
+    Your thought if love must harbour there,
+      Conceal it in that thought;
+    Nor cause me from my bosom tear
+      The very friend I sought.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XCVI.
+
+
+TO GAVIN HAMILTON.
+
+[The Hamiltons of the West continue to love the memory of Burns: the
+old arm-chair in which the bard sat, when he visited Nanse Tinnocks,
+was lately presented to the mason Lodge of Mauchline, by Dr. Hamilton,
+the "wee curly Johnie" of the Dedication.]
+
+[_Edinburgh, Dec._ 1787.]
+
+MY DEAR SIR,
+
+It is indeed with the highest pleasure that I congratulate you on the
+return of days of ease and nights of pleasure, after the horrid hours
+of misery in which I saw you suffering existence when last in
+Ayrshire; I seldom pray for any body, "I'm baith dead-sweer and
+wretched ill o't;" but most fervently do I beseech the Power that
+directs the world, that you may live long and be happy, but live no
+longer than you are happy. It is needless for me to advise you to have
+a reverend care of your health. I know you will make it a point never
+at one time to drink more than a pint of wine (I mean an English
+pint), and that you will never be witness to more than one bowl of
+punch at a time, and that cold drams you will never more taste; and,
+above all things, I am convinced, that after drinking perhaps boiling
+punch, you will never mount your horse and gallop home in a chill late
+hour. Above all things, as I understand you are in habits of intimacy
+with that Boanerges of gospel powers, Father Auld, be earnest with him
+that he will wrestle in prayer for you, that you may see the vanity of
+vanities in trusting to, or even practising the casual moral works of
+charity, humanity, generosity, and forgiveness of things, which you
+practised so flagrantly that it was evident you delighted in them,
+neglecting, or perhaps profanely despising, the wholesome doctrine of
+faith without works, the only anchor of salvation. A hymn of
+thanksgiving would, in my opinion, be highly becoming from you at
+present, and in my zeal for your well-being, I earnestly press on you
+to be diligent in chanting over the two enclosed pieces of sacred
+poesy. My best compliments to Mrs. Hamilton and Miss Kennedy.
+
+Yours in the L--d,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XCVII.
+
+
+TO MISS CHALMERS.
+
+[The blank which takes the place of the name of the "Gentleman in mind
+and manners," of this letter, cannot now be filled up, nor is it much
+matter: the acquaintance of such a man as the poet describes few or
+none would desire.]
+
+_Edinburgh, Dec._ 1787.
+
+MY DEAR MADAM,
+
+I just now have read yours. The poetic compliments I pay cannot be
+misunderstood. They are neither of them so particular as to point you
+out to the world at large; and the circle of your acquaintances will
+allow all I have said. Besides, I have complimented you chiefly,
+almost solely, on your mental charms. Shall I be plain with you? I
+will; so look to it. Personal attractions, Madam, you have much above
+par; wit, understanding, and worth, you possess in the first class.
+This is a cursed flat way of telling you these truths, but let me hear
+no more of your sheepish timidity. I know the world a little. I know
+what they will say of my poems; by second sight I suppose; for I am
+seldom out in my conjectures; and you may believe me, my dear Madam, I
+would not run any risk of hurting you by any ill-judged compliment. I
+wish to show to the world, the odds between a poet's friends and those
+of simple prosemen. More for your information, both the pieces go in.
+One of them, "Where braving angry winter's storms," is already
+set--the tune is Neil Gow's Lamentation for _Abercarny_; the other is
+to be set to an old Highland air in Daniel Dow's collection of ancient
+Scots music; the name is "_Ha a Chaillich air mo Dheith._" My
+treacherous memory has forgot every circumstance about _Les Incas_,
+only I think you mentioned them as being in Creech's possession. I
+shall ask him about it. I am afraid the song of "Somebody" will come
+too late--as I shall, for certain, leave town in a week for Ayrshire,
+and from that to Dumfries, but there my hopes are slender. I leave my
+direction in town, so anything, wherever I am, will reach me.
+
+I saw yours to ----; it is not too severe, nor did he take it amiss. On
+the contrary, like a whipt spaniel, he talks of being with you in the
+Christmas days. Mr. ---- has given him the invitation, and he is
+determined to accept of it. O selfishness! he owns, in his sober
+moments, that from his own volatility of inclination, the
+circumstances in which he is situated, and his knowledge of his
+father's disposition;--the whole affair is chimerical--yet he _will_
+gratify an idle _penchant_ at the enormous, cruel expense, of perhaps
+ruining the peace of the very woman for whom he professes the generous
+passion of love! He is a gentleman in his mind and manners--_tant
+pis_! He is a volatile school-boy--the heir of a man's fortune who
+well knows the value of two times two!
+
+Perdition seize them and their fortunes, before they should make the
+amiable, the lovely ----, the derided object of their purse-proud
+contempt!
+
+I am doubly happy to hear of Mrs. ----'s recovery, because I really
+thought all was over with her. There are days of pleasure yet awaiting
+her:
+
+    "As I came in by Glenap,
+    I met with an aged woman:
+    She bad me cheer up my heart,
+    For the best o' my days was comin'."
+
+This day will decide my affairs with Creech. Things are, like myself,
+not what they ought to be; yet better than what they appear to be.
+
+    "Heaven's sovereign saves all beings but himself--
+    That hideous sight--a naked human heart."
+
+Farewell! remember me to Charlotte.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XCVIII.
+
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP.
+
+[The poet alludes in this letter, as in some before, to a hurt which
+he got in one of his excursions in the neighbourhood of Edinburgh.]
+
+_Edinburgh, January 21, 1788._
+
+After six weeks' confinement, I am beginning to walk across the room.
+They have been six horrible weeks; anguish and low spirits made me
+unfit to read, write, or think.
+
+I have a hundred times wished that one could resign life as an officer
+resigns a commission: for I would not take in any poor, ignorant
+wretch, by selling out. Lately I was a sixpenny private; and, God
+knows, a miserable soldier enough; now I march to the campaign, a
+starving cadet: a little more conspicuously wretched.
+
+I am ashamed of all this; for though I do want bravery for the warfare
+of life, I could wish, like some other soldiers, to have as much
+fortitude or cunning as to dissemble or conceal my cowardice.
+
+As soon as I can bear the journey, which will be, I suppose, about the
+middle of next week, I leave Edinburgh: and soon after I shall pay my
+grateful duty at Dunlop-House.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XCIX.
+
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP.
+
+[The levity with which Burns sometimes spoke of things sacred, had
+been obliquely touched upon by his good and anxious friend Mrs.
+Dunlop: he pleads guilty of folly, but not of irreligion.]
+
+_Edinburgh, February 12, 1788._
+
+Some things in your late letters hurt me: not that _you say them_, but
+that _you mistake me._ Religion, my honoured Madam, has not only been
+all my life my chief dependence, but my dearest enjoyment. I have,
+indeed, been the luckless victim of wayward follies; but, alas! I have
+ever been "more fool than knave." A mathematician without religion is
+a probable character; an irreligious poet is a monster.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+C.
+
+
+TO THE REV. JOHN SKINNER.
+
+[When Burns undertook to supply Johnson with songs for the Musical
+Museum, he laid all the bards of Scotland under contribution, and
+Skinner among the number, of whose talents, as well as those of Ross,
+author of Helenore, he was a great admirer.]
+
+_Edinburgh, 14th February, 1788._
+
+REVEREND AND DEAR SIR,
+
+I have been a cripple now near three months, though I am getting
+vastly better, and have been very much hurried beside, or else I would
+have wrote you sooner. I must beg your pardon for the epistle you sent
+me appearing in the Magazine. I had given a copy or two to some of my
+intimate friends, but did not know of the printing of it till the
+publication of the Magazine. However, as it does great honour to us
+both, you will forgive it.
+
+The second volume of the songs I mentioned to you in my last is
+published to-day. I send you a copy which I beg you will accept as a
+mark of the veneration I have long had, and shall ever have, for your
+character, and of the claim I make to your continued acquaintance.
+Your songs appear in the third volume, with your name in the index;
+as, I assure you, Sir, I have heard your "Tullochgorum," particularly
+among our west-country folks, given to many different names, and most
+commonly to the immortal author of "The Minstrel," who, indeed, never
+wrote anything superior to "Gie's a sang, Montgomery cried." Your
+brother has promised me your verses to the Marquis of Huntley's reel,
+which certainly deserve a place in the collection. My kind host, Mr.
+Cruikshank, of the High-school here, and said to be one of the best
+Latins in this age, begs me to make you his grateful acknowledgments
+for the entertainment he has got in a Latin publication of yours, that
+I borrowed for him from your acquaintance and much respected friend in
+this place, the Reverend Dr. Webster. Mr. Cruikshank maintains that
+you write the best Latin since Buchanan. I leave Edinburgh to-morrow,
+but shall return in three weeks. Your song you mentioned in your last,
+to the tune of "Dumbarton Drums," and the other, which you say was
+done by a brother by trade of mine, a ploughman, I shall thank you
+much for a copy of each. I am ever, Reverend Sir, with the most
+respectful esteem and sincere veneration, yours,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CI.
+
+
+TO RICHARD BROWN.
+
+[The letters of Burns to Brown, and Smith, and Richmond, and others of
+his west-country friends, written when he was in the first flush of
+fame, show that he did not forget humble men, who anticipated the
+public in perceiving his merit.]
+
+_Edinburgh, February 15th_, 1788.
+
+MY DEAR FRIEND,
+
+I received yours with the greatest pleasure. I shall arrive at Glasgow
+on Monday evening; and beg, if possible, you will meet me on Tuesday.
+I shall wait you Tuesday all day. I shall be found at Davies', Black
+Bull inn. I am hurried, as if hunted by fifty devils, else I should go
+to Greenock: but if you cannot possibly come, write me, if possible,
+to Glasgow, on Monday; or direct to me at Mossgiel by Mauchline; and
+name a day and place in Ayrshire, within a fortnight from this date,
+where I may meet you. I only stay a fortnight in Ayrshire, and return
+to Edinburgh. I am ever, my dearest friend, yours,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CII.
+
+
+TO MRS. ROSE, OF KILRAVOCK.
+
+[Mrs. Rose of Kilravock, a lady distinguished by the elegance of her
+manners, as well as by her talents, was long remembered by Burns: she
+procured for him snatches of old songs, and copies of northern
+melodies; to her we owe the preservation of some fine airs as well as
+the inspiration of some fine lyrics.]
+
+_Edinburgh, February 17th, 1788._
+
+MADAM,
+
+You are much indebted to some indispensable business I have had on my
+hands, otherwise my gratitude threatened such a return for your
+obliging favour as would have tired your patience. It but poorly
+expresses my feelings to say, that I am sensible of your kindness: it
+may be said of hearts such as yours is, and such, I hope, mine is,
+much more justly than Addison applies it,--
+
+    "Some souls by instinct to each other turn."
+
+There was something in my reception at Kilravock so different from the
+cold, obsequious, dancing-school bow of politeness, that it almost got
+into my head that friendship had occupied her ground without the
+intermediate march of acquaintance. I wish I could transcribe, or
+rather transfuse into language, the glow of my heart when I read your
+letter. My ready fancy, with colours more mellow than life itself,
+painted the beautifully wild scenery of Kilravock--the venerable
+grandeur of the castle--the spreading woods--the winding river, gladly
+leaving his unsightly, heathy source, and lingering with apparent
+delight as he passes the fairy walk at the bottom of the garden;--your
+late distressful anxieties--your present enjoyments--your dear little
+angel, the pride of your hopes;--my aged friend, venerable in worth
+and years, whose loyalty and other virtues will strongly entitle her
+to the support of the Almighty Spirit here, and his peculiar favour in
+a happier state of existence. You cannot imagine, Madam, how much such
+feelings delight me; they are my dearest proofs of my own immortality.
+Should I never revisit the north, as probably I never will, nor again
+see your hospitable mansion, were I, some twenty years hence, to see
+your little fellow's name making a proper figure in a newspaper
+paragraph, my heart would bound with pleasure.
+
+I am assisting a friend in a collection of Scottish songs, set to
+their proper tunes; every air worth preserving is to be included:
+among others I have given "Morag," and some few Highland airs which
+pleased me most, a dress which will be more generally known, though
+far, far inferior in real merit. As a small mark of my grateful
+esteem, I beg leave to present you with a copy of the work, as far as
+it is printed; the Man of Feeling, that first of men, has promised to
+transmit it by the first opportunity.
+
+I beg to be remembered most respectfully to my venerable friend, and
+to your little Highland chieftain. When you see the "two fair spirits
+of the hill," at Kildrummie,[181] tell them that I have done myself the
+honour of setting myself down as one of their admirers for at least
+twenty years to come, consequently they must look upon me as an
+acquaintance for the same period; but, as the apostle Paul says, "this
+I ask of grace, not of debt."
+
+I have the honour to be, Madam, &c.,
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 181: Miss Sophia Brodie, of L----, and Miss Rose of Kilravock.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CIII.
+
+
+TO RICHARD BROWN.
+
+[While Burns was confined to his lodgings by his maimed limb, he
+beguiled the time and eased the pain by composing the Clarinda
+epistles, writing songs for Johnson, and letters to his companions.]
+
+_Mossgiel, 24th February, 1788._
+
+MY DEAR SIR,
+
+I cannot get the proper direction for my friend in Jamaica, but the
+following will do:--To Mr. Jo. Hutchinson, at Jo. Brownrigg's, Esq.,
+care of Mr. Benjamin Henriquez, merchant, Orange-street, Kingston. I
+arrived here, at my brother's, only yesterday, after fighting my way
+through Paisley and Kilmarnock, against those old powerful foes of
+mine, the devil, the world, and the flesh--so terrible in the fields
+of dissipation. I have met with few incidents in my life which gave me
+so much pleasure as meeting you in Glasgow. There is a time of life
+beyond which we cannot form a tie worth the name of friendship. "O
+youth! enchanting stage, profusely blest." Life is a fairy scene:
+almost all that deserves the name of enjoyment or pleasure is only a
+charming delusion; and in comes repining age in all the gravity of
+hoary wisdom, and wretchedly chases away the bewitching phantom. When
+I think of life, I resolve to keep a strict look-out in the course of
+economy, for the sake of worldly convenience and independence of mind;
+to cultivate intimacy with a few of the companions of youth, that they
+may be the friends of age; never to refuse my liquorish humour a
+handful of the sweetmeats of life, when they come not too dear; and,
+for futurity,--
+
+    "The present moment is our ain,
+    The neist we never saw!"[182]
+
+How like you my philosophy? Give my best compliments to Mrs. B., and
+believe me to be,
+
+My dear Sir,
+
+Yours most truly,
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 182: Mickle.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CIV.
+
+
+TO MR. WILLIAM CRUIKSHANK.
+
+[The excise and farming alternately occupied the poet's thoughts in
+Edinburgh: he studied books of husbandry and took lessons in gauging,
+and in the latter he became expert.]
+
+_Mauchline, March 3d, 1788._
+
+MY DEAR SIR,
+
+Apologies for not writing are frequently like apologies for not
+singing--the apology better than the song. I have fought my way
+severely through the savage hospitality of this country, to send every
+guest drunk to bed if they can.
+
+I executed your commission in Glasgow, and I hope the cocoa came safe.
+'Twas the same price and the very same kind as your former parcel, for
+the gentleman recollected your buying there perfectly well.
+
+I should return my thanks for your      hospitality (I
+leave a blank for the epithet, as I know none can do it justice) to a
+poor, wayfaring bard, who was spent and utmost overpowered fighting
+with prosaic wickednesses in high places; but I am afraid lest you
+should burn the letter whenever you come to the passage, so I pass
+over it in silence. I am just returned from visiting Mr. Miller's
+farm. The friend whom I told you I would take with me was highly
+pleased with the farm; and as he is, without exception, the most
+intelligent farmer in the country, he has staggered me a good deal. I
+have the two plans of life before me; I shall balance them to the best
+of my judgment, and fix on the most eligible. I have written Mr.
+Miller, and shall wait on him when I come to town, which shall be the
+beginning or middle of next week; I would be in sooner, but my unlucky
+knee is rather worse, and I fear for some time will scarcely stand the
+fatigue of my Excise instructions. I only mention these ideas to you;
+and, indeed, except Mr. Ainslie, whom I intend writing to to-morrow, I
+will not write at all to Edinburgh till I return to it. I would send
+my compliments to Mr. Nicol, but he would be hurt if he knew I wrote
+to anybody and not to him: so I shall only beg my best, kindest,
+kindest compliments to my worthy hostess and the sweet little
+rose-bud.
+
+So soon as I am settled in the routine of life, either as an
+Excise-officer, or as a farmer, I propose myself great pleasure from a
+regular correspondence with the only man almost I ever saw who joined
+the most attentive prudence with the warmest generosity.
+
+I am much interested for that best of men, Mr. Wood; I hope he is in
+better health and spirits than when I saw him last.
+
+I am ever,
+
+My dearest friend,
+
+Your obliged, humble servant,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CV.
+
+
+TO ROBERT AINSLIE, ESQ.
+
+[The sensible and intelligent farmer on whose judgment Burns depended
+in the choice of his farm, was Mr. Tait, of Glenconner.]
+
+_Mauchline, 3d March, 1788._
+
+MY DEAR FRIEND,
+
+I am just returned from Mr. Miller's farm. My old friend whom I took
+with me was highly pleased with the bargain, and advised me to accept
+of it. He is the most intelligent sensible farmer in the county, and
+his advice has staggered me a good deal. I have the two plans before
+me: I shall endeavour to balance them to the best of my judgement, and
+fix on the most eligible. On the whole, if I find Mr. Miller in the
+same favourable disposition as when I saw him last, I shall in all
+probability turn farmer.
+
+I have been through sore tribulation and under much buffeting of the
+wicked one since I came to this country. Jean I found banished,
+forlorn, destitute and friendless: I have reconciled her to her fate,
+and I have reconciled her to her mother.
+
+I shall be in Edinburgh middle of next week. My farming ideas I shall
+keep private till I see. I got a letter from Clarinda yesterday, and
+she tells me she has got no letter of mine but one. Tell her that I
+wrote to her from Glasgow, from Kilmarnock, from Mauchline, and
+yesterday from Cumnock as I returned from Dumfries. Indeed she is the
+only person in Edinburgh I have written to till this day. How are your
+soul and body putting up?--a little like man and wife, I suppose.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CVI.
+
+
+TO RICHARD BROWN.
+
+[Richard Brown, it is said, fell off in his liking for Burns when he
+found that he had made free with his name in his epistle to Moore.]
+
+_Mauchline, 7th March_, 1788.
+
+I have been out of the country, my dear friend, and have not had an
+opportunity of writing till now, when I am afraid you will be gone out
+of the country too. I have been looking at farms, and, after all,
+perhaps I may settle in the character of a farmer. I have got so
+vicious a bent to idleness, and have ever been so little a man of
+business, that it will take no ordinary effort to bring my mind
+properly into the routine: but you will save a "great effort is worthy
+of you." I say so myself; and butter up my vanity with all the
+stimulating compliments I can think of. Men of grave, geometrical
+minds, the sons of "which was to be demonstrated," may cry up reason
+as much as they please; but I have always found an honest passion, or
+native instinct, the truest auxiliary in the warfare of this world.
+Reason almost always comes to me like an unlucky wife to a poor devil
+of a husband, just in sufficient time to add her reproaches to his
+other grievances.
+
+I am gratified with your kind inquiries after Jean; as, after all, I
+may say with Othello:--
+
+    --------------------"Excellent wretch!
+    Perdition catch my soul, but I do love thee!"
+
+I go for Edinburgh on Monday.
+
+Yours,--R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CVII.
+
+
+TO MR. MUIR.
+
+[The change which Burns says in this letter took place in his ideas,
+refers, it is said, to his West India voyage, on which, it appears by
+one of his letters to Smith, he meditated for some time after his
+debut in Edinburgh.]
+
+_Mossgiel, 7th March_, 1788.
+
+DEAR SIR,
+
+I have partly changed my ideas, my dear friend, since I saw you. I
+took old Glenconner with mo to Mr. Miller's farm, and he was so
+pleased with it, that I have wrote an offer to Mr. Miller, which, if
+he accepts, I shall sit down a plain farmer, the happiest of lives
+when a man can live by it. In this case I shall not stay in Edinburgh
+above a week. I set out on Monday, and would have come by Kilmarnock,
+but there are several small sums owing me for my first edition about
+Galston and Newmills, and I shall set off so early as to dispatch my
+business, and reach Glasgow by night. When I return, I shall devote a
+forenoon or two to make some kind of acknowledgment for all the
+kindness I owe your friendship. Now that I hope to settle with some
+credit and comfort at home, there was not any friendship or friendly
+correspondence that promised me more pleasure than yours; I hope I
+will not be disappointed. I trust the spring will renew your shattered
+frame, and make your friends happy. You and I have often agreed that
+life is no great blessing on the whole. The close of life, indeed, to
+a reasoning eye, is,
+
+    "Dark as was chaos, ere the infant sun
+    Was roll'd together, or had try'd his beams
+    Athwart their gloom profound."[183]
+
+But an honest man has nothing to fear. If we lie down in the grave,
+the whole man a piece of broken machinery, to moulder with the clods
+of the valley, be it so: at least there is an end of pain, care, woes,
+and wants: if that part of us called mind does survive the apparent
+destruction of the man--away with old-wife prejudices and tales! Every
+age and every nation has had a different set of stories; and as the
+many are always weak, of consequence, they have often, perhaps always,
+been deceived; a man conscious of having acted an honest part among
+his fellow-creatures--even granting that he may have been the sport at
+times of passions and instincts--he goes to a great unknown Being, who
+could have no other end in giving him existence but to make him happy,
+who gave him those passions and instincts, and well knows their force.
+
+These, my worthy friend, are my ideas; and I know they are not far
+different from yours. It becomes a man of sense to think for himself,
+particularly in a case where all men are equally interested, and
+where, indeed, all men are equally in the dark.
+
+Adieu, my dear Sir; God send us a cheerful meeting!
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 183: Blair's Grave.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CVIII.
+
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP.
+
+[One of the daughters of Mrs. Dunlop painted a sketch of Coila from
+Burns's poem of the Vision: it is still in existence, and is said to
+have merit.]
+
+_Mossgiel, 17th March, 1788._
+
+MADAM,
+
+The last paragraph in yours of the 30th February affected me most, so
+I shall begin my answer where you ended your letter. That I am often a
+sinner with any little wit I have, I do confess: but I have taxed my
+recollection to no purpose, to find out when it was employed against
+you. I hate an ungenerous sarcasm a great deal worse than I do the
+devil; at least as Milton described him; and though I may be rascally
+enough to be sometimes guilty of it myself, I cannot endure it in
+others. You, my honoured friend, who cannot appear in any light but
+you are sure of being respectable--you can afford to pass by an
+occasion to display your wit, because you may depend for fame on your
+sense; or, if you choose to be silent, you know you can rely on the
+gratitude of many, and the esteem of all; but, God help us, who are
+wits or witlings by profession, if we stand for fame there, we sink
+unsupported!
+
+I am highly flattered by the news you tell me of Coila. I may say to
+the fair painter who does me so much honour, as Dr. Beattie says to
+Ross the poet of his muse Scota, from which, by the bye, I took the
+idea of Coila ('tis a poem of Beattie's in the Scottish dialect, which
+perhaps you have never seen:)--
+
+    Ye shak your heads, but o' my fegs,
+    Ye've sat auld Scota on her legs:
+    Lang had she lien wi' beffs and flegs,
+                    Bumbaz'd and dizzie,
+    Her fiddle wanted strings and pegs.
+                    Wae's me, poor hizzie."
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CIX.
+
+
+TO MISS CHALMERS.
+
+[The uncouth cares of which the poet complains in this letter were the
+construction of a common farmhouse, with barn, byre, and stable to
+suit.]
+
+_Edinburgh, March 14, 1788._
+
+I know, my ever dear friend, that you will be pleased with the news
+when I tell you, I have at last taken a lease of a farm. Yesternight I
+completed a bargain with Mr. Miller, of Dalswinton for the farm of
+Ellisland, on the banks of the Nith, between five and six miles above
+Dumfries. I begin at Whit-Sunday to build a house, drive lime, &c.;
+and heaven be my help! for it will take a strong effort to bring my
+mind into the routine of business. I have discharged all the army of
+my former pursuits, fancies, and pleasures; a motley host! and have
+literally and strictly retained only the ideas of a few friends, which
+I have incorporated into a lifeguard. I trust in Dr. Johnson's
+observation, "Where much is attempted, something is done." Firmness,
+both in sufferance and exertion, is a character I would wish to be
+thought to possess: and have always despised the whining yelp of
+complaint, and the cowardly, feeble resolve.
+
+Poor Miss K. is ailing a good deal this winter, and begged me to
+remember her to you the first time I wrote to you. Surely woman,
+amiable woman, is often made in vain. Too delicately formed for the
+rougher pursuits of ambition; too noble for the dirt of avarice, and
+even too gentle for the rage of pleasure; formed indeed for, and
+highly susceptible of enjoyment and rapture; but that enjoyment, alas!
+almost wholly at the mercy of the caprice, malevolence, stupidity, or
+wickedness of an animal at all times comparatively unfeeling, and
+often brutal.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CX.
+
+
+TO RICHARD BROWN.
+
+[The excitement referred to in this letter arose from the dilatory and
+reluctant movements of Creech, who was so slow in settling his
+accounts that the poet suspected his solvency.]
+
+_Glasgow, 26th March, 1788._
+
+I am monstrously to blame, my dear Sir, in not writing to you, and
+sending you the Directory. I have been getting my tack extended, as I
+have taken a farm; and I have been racking shop accounts with Mr.
+Creech, both of which, together with watching, fatigue, and a load of
+care almost too heavy for my shoulders, have in some degree actually
+fevered me. I really forgot the Directory yesterday, which vexed me;
+but I was convulsed with rage a great part of the day. I have to thank
+you for the ingenious, friendly, and elegant epistle from your friend
+Mr. Crawford. I shall certainly write to him, but not now. This is
+merely a card to you, as I am posting to Dumfries-shire, where many
+perplexing arrangements await me. I am vexed about the Directory; but,
+my dear Sir, forgive me: these eight days I have been positively
+crazed. My compliments to Mrs. B. I shall write to you at Grenada.--I
+am ever, my dearest friend,
+
+Yours,--R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXI.
+
+
+TO MR. ROBERT CLEGHORN.
+
+[Cleghorn was a farmer, a social man, and much of a musician. The poet
+wrote the Chevalier's Lament to please the jacobitical taste of his
+friend; and the musician gave him advice in farming which he neglected
+to follow:--"Farmer Attention," says Cleghorn, "is a good farmer
+everywhere."]
+
+_Mauchline, 31st March, 1788._
+
+Yesterday, my dear Sir, as I was riding through a track of melancholy,
+joyless muirs, between Galloway and Ayrshire, it being Sunday, I
+turned my thoughts to psalms, and hymns, and spiritual songs; and your
+favourite air, "Captain O'Kean," coming at length into my head, I
+tried these words to it. You will see that the first part of the tune
+must be repeated.
+
+I am tolerably pleased with these verses, but as I have only a sketch
+of the tune, I leave it with you to try if they suit the measure of
+the music.
+
+I am so harassed with care and anxiety, about this farming project of
+mine, that my muse has degenerated into the veriest prose-wench that
+ever picked cinders, or followed a tinker. When I am fairly got into
+the routine of business, I shall trouble you with a longer epistle;
+perhaps with some queries respecting farming; at present, the world
+sits such a load on my mind, that it has effaced almost every trace of
+the poet in me.
+
+My very best compliments and good wishes to Mrs. Cleghorn.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXII.
+
+
+TO MR. WILLIAM DUNBAR,
+
+EDINBURGH.
+
+[This letter was printed for the first time by Robert Chambers, in his
+"People's Edition" of Burns.]
+
+_Mauchline, 7th April, 1788._
+
+I have not delayed so long to write you, my much respected friend,
+because I thought no farther of my promise. I have long since give up
+that kind of formal correspondence, where one sits down irksomely to
+write a letter, because we think we are in duty bound so to do.
+
+I have been roving over the country, as the farm I have taken is forty
+miles from this place, hiring servants and preparing matters; but most
+of all I am earnestly busy to bring about a revolution in my own mind.
+As, till within these eighteen months, I never was the wealthy master
+of 10 guineas, my knowledge of business is to learn; add to this my
+late scenes of idleness and dissipation have enervated my mind to an
+alarming degree. Skill in the sober science of life is my most serious
+and hourly study. I have dropt all conversation and all reading (prose
+reading) but what tends in some way or other to my serious aim. Except
+one worthy young fellow, I have not one single correspondent in
+Edinburgh. You have indeed kindly made me an offer of that kind. The
+world of wits, and _gens comme il faut_ which I lately left, and with
+whom I never again will intimately mix--from that port, Sir, I expect
+your Gazette: what _Les beaux esprit_ are saying, what they are doing,
+and what they are singing. Any sober intelligence from my sequestered
+walks of life; any droll original; any passing reward, important
+forsooth, because it is mine; any little poetic effort, however
+embryoth; these, my dear Sir, are all you have to expect from me. When
+I talk of poetic efforts, I must have it always understood, that I
+appeal from your wit and taste to your friendship and good nature. The
+first would be my favourite tribunal, where I defied censure; but the
+last, where I declined justice.
+
+I have scarcely made a single distich since I saw you. When I meet
+with an old Scots air that has any facetious idea in its name, I have
+a peculiar pleasure in following out that idea for a verse or two.
+
+I trust that this will find you in better health than I did last time
+I called for you. A few lines from you, directed to me at Mauchline,
+were it but to let me know how you are, will set my mind a good deal
+[at rest.] Now, never shun the idea of writing me because perhaps you
+may be out of humour or spirits. I could give you a hundred good
+consequences attending a dull letter; one, for example, and the
+remaining ninety-nine some other time--it will always serve to keep in
+countenance, my much respected Sir, your obliged friend and humble
+servant,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXIII.
+
+
+TO MISS CHALMERS.
+
+[The sacrifice referred to by the poet, was his resolution to unite
+his fortune with Jean Armour.]
+
+_Mauchline, 7th April, 1788._
+
+I am indebted to you and Miss Nimmo for letting me know Miss Kennedy.
+Strange! how apt we are to indulge prejudices in our judgments of one
+another! Even I, who pique myself on my skill in marking
+characters--because I am too proud of my character as a man, to be
+dazzled in my judgment for glaring wealth; and too proud of my
+situation as a poor man to be biased against squalid poverty--I was
+unacquainted with Miss K.'s very uncommon worth.
+
+I am going on a good deal progressive in _mon grand but_, the sober
+science of life. I have lately made some sacrifices, for which, were I
+_viva voce_ with you to paint the situation and recount the
+circumstances, you should applaud me.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXIV.
+
+
+TO MISS CHALMERS.
+
+[The hint alluded to, was a whisper of the insolvency of Creech; but
+the bailie was firm as the Bass.]
+
+_No date._
+
+Now for that wayward, unfortunate thing, myself. I have broke measures
+with Creech, and last week I wrote him a frosty, keen letter. He
+replied in terms of chastisement, and promised me upon his honour that
+I should have the account on Monday; but this is Tuesday, and yet I
+have not heard a word from him. God have mercy on me! a poor d--mned,
+incautious, duped, unfortunate fool! The sport, the miserable victim
+of rebellious pride, hypochondriac imagination, agonizing sensibility,
+and bedlam passions?
+
+"I wish that I were dead, but I'm no like to die!" I had lately "a
+hair-breadth 'scape in th' imminent deadly breach" of love too. Thank my
+stars, I got off heart-whole, "waur fleyd than hurt."--Interruption.
+
+I have this moment got a hint: I fear I am something like--undone--but
+I hope for the best. Come, stubborn pride and unshrinking resolution;
+accompany me through this, to me, miserable world! You must not desert
+me! Your friendship I think I can count on, though I should date my
+letters from a marching regiment. Early in life, and all my life I
+reckoned on a recruiting drum as my forlorn hope. Seriously though,
+life at present presents me with but a melancholy path: but--my limb
+will soon be sound, and I shall struggle on.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXV.
+
+
+TO MISS CHALMERS.
+
+[Although Burns gladly grasped at a situation in the Excise, he wrote
+many apologies to his friends, for the acceptance of a place, which,
+though humble enough, was the only one that offered.]
+
+_Edinburgh, Sunday._
+
+To-morrow, my dear madam, I leave Edinburgh. I have altered all my
+plans of future life. A farm that I could live in, I could not find;
+and, indeed, after the necessary support my brother and the rest of
+the family required, I could not venture on farming in that style
+suitable to my feelings. You will condemn me for the next step I have
+taken. I have entered into the Excise. I stay in the west about three
+weeks, and then return to Edinburgh, for six weeks' instructions:
+afterwards, for I get employ instantly, I go _ou il plait a
+Dieu_,--_et mon Roi._ I have chosen this, my dear friend, after mature
+deliberation. The question is not at what door of fortune's palace
+shall we enter in; but what doors does she open to us? I was not
+likely to get anything to do. I wanted _un but_, which is a dangerous,
+an unhappy situation. I got this without any hanging on, or mortifying
+solicitation; it is immediate bread, and though poor in comparison of
+the last eighteen months of my existence, 'tis luxury in comparison
+of all my preceding life: besides, the commissioners are some of them
+my acquaintances, and all of them my firm friends.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXVI.
+
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP.
+
+[The Tasso, with the perusal of which Mrs. Dunlop indulged the poet,
+was not the line version of Fairfax, but the translation of Hoole--a
+far inferior performance.]
+
+_Mauchline, 28th April, 1788._
+
+MADAM,
+
+Your powers of reprehension must be great indeed, as I assure you they
+made my heart ache with penitential pangs, even though I was really
+not guilty. As I commence farmer at Whit-Sunday, you will easily guess
+I must be pretty busy; but that is not all. As I got the offer of the
+Excise business without solicitation, and as it costs me only six
+months' attendance for instructions, to entitle me to a
+commission--which commission lies by me, and at any future period, on
+my simple petition, ca be resumed--I thought five-and-thirty pounds
+a-year was no bad _dernier ressort_ for a poor poet, if fortune in her
+jade tricks should kick him down from the little eminence to which she
+has lately helped him up.
+
+For this reason, I am at present attending these instructions, to have
+them completed before Whit-sunday. Still, Madam, I prepared with the
+sincerest pleasure to meet you at the Mount, and came to my brother's
+on Saturday night, to set out on Sunday; but for some nights preceding
+I had slept in an apartment, where the force of the winds and rains
+was only mitigated by being sifted through numberless apertures in the
+windows, walls, &c. In consequence I was on Sunday, Monday, and part
+of Tuesday, unable to stir out of bed, with all the miserable effects
+of a violent cold.
+
+You see, Madam, the truth of the French maxim, _le vrai n'est pas
+toujours le vraisemblable_; your last was so full of expostulation,
+and was something so like the language of an offended friend, that I
+began to tremble for a correspondence, which I had with grateful
+pleasure set down as one of the greatest enjoyments of my future life.
+
+Your books have delighted me: Virgil, Dryden, and Tasso were all
+equally strangers to me; but of this more at large in my next.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXVII.
+
+
+TO MR. JAMES SMITH,
+
+AVON PRINTFIELD, LINLITHGOW.
+
+[James Smith, as this letter intimates, had moved from Mauchline to
+try to mend his fortunes at Avon Printfield, near Linlithgow.]
+
+_Mauchline, April 28, 1788._
+
+Beware of your Strasburgh, my good Sir! Look on this as the opening of
+a correspondence, like the opening of a twenty-four gun battery!
+
+There is no understanding a man properly, without knowing something of
+his previous ideas (that is to say, if the man has any ideas; for I
+know many who, in the animal-muster, pass for men, that are the scanty
+masters of only one idea on any given subject, and by far the greatest
+part of your acquaintances and mine can barely boast of ideas,
+1.25--1.5--1.75 or some such fractional matter;) so to let you a
+little into the secrets of my pericranium, there is, you must know, a
+certain clean-limbed, handsome, bewitching young hussy of your
+acquaintance, to whom I have lately and privately given a matrimonial
+title to my corpus.
+
+    "Bode a robe and wear it,
+     Bode a pock and bear it,"
+
+says the wise old Scots adage! I hate to presage ill-luck; and as my
+girl has been doubly kinder to me than even the best of women usually
+are to their partners of our sex, in similar circumstances, I reckon
+on twelve times a brace of children against I celebrate my twelfth
+wedding-day: these twenty-four will give me twenty-four gossipings,
+twenty-four christenings (I mean one equal to two), and I hope, by the
+blessing of the God of my fathers, to make them twenty-four dutiful
+children to their parents, twenty-four useful members of society, and
+twenty-four approved services of their God! * * *
+
+"Light's heartsome," quo' the wife when she was stealing sheep. You
+see what a lamp I have hung up to lighten your paths, when you are
+idle enough to explore the combinations and relations of my ideas.
+'Tis now as plain as a pike-staff, why a twenty-four gun battery was a
+metaphor I could readily employ.
+
+Now for business.--I intend to present Mrs. Burns with a printed
+shawl, an article of which I dare say you have variety: 'tis my first
+present to her since I have irrevocably called her mine, and I have a
+kind of whimsical wish to get her the first said present from an old
+and much-valued friend of hers and mine, a trusty Trojan, on whose
+friendship I count myself possessed of as a life-rent lease.
+
+Look on this letter as a "beginning of sorrows;" I will write you till
+your eyes ache reading nonsense.
+
+Mrs. Burns ('tis only her private designation) begs her best
+compliments to you.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXVIII.
+
+
+TO PROFESSOR DUGALD STEWART.
+
+[Dugald Stewart loved the poet, admired his works, and enriched the
+biography of Currie with some genuine reminiscences of his earlier
+days.]
+
+_Mauchline, 3d May, 1788._
+
+SIR,
+
+I enclose you one or two more of my bagatelles. If the fervent wishes
+of honest gratitude have any influence with that great unknown being
+who frames the chain of causes and events, prosperity and happiness
+will attend your visits to the continent, and return you safe to your
+native shore.
+
+Wherever I am, allow me, Sir, to claim it as my privilege to acquaint
+you with my progress in my trade of rhymes; as I am sure I could say
+it with truth, that next to my little fame, and the having it in my
+power to make life more comfortable to those whom nature has made dear
+to me, I shall ever regard your countenance, your patronage, your
+friendly good offices, as the most valued consequence of my late
+success in life.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXIX.
+
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP.
+
+[A poem, something after the fashion of the Georgics, was long present
+to the mind of Burns: had fortune been more friendly he might have, in
+due time, produced it.]
+
+_Mauchline, 4th May, 1788._
+
+MADAM,
+
+Dryden's Virgil has delighted me. I do not know whether the critics
+will agree with me, but the Georgics are to me by far the best of
+Virgil. It is indeed a species of writing entirely new to me; and has
+filled my head with a thousand fancies of emulation: but, alas! when I
+read the Georgics, and then survey my own powers, 'tis like the idea
+of a Shetland pony, drawn up by the side of a thorough-bred hunter to
+start for the plate. I own I am disappointed in the AEneid. Faultless
+correctness may please, and does highly please, the lettered critic:
+but to that awful character I have not the most distant pretensions. I
+do not know whether I do not hazard my pretensions to be a critic of
+any kind, when I say that I think Virgil, in many instances, a servile
+copier of Homer. If I had the Odyssey by me, I could parallel many
+passages where Virgil has evidently copied, but by no means improved,
+Homer. Nor can I think there is anything of this owing to the
+translators; for, from everything I have seen of Dryden, I think him
+in genius and fluency of language, Pope's master. I have not perused
+Tasso enough to form an opinion: in some future letter, you shall have
+my ideas of him; though I am conscious my criticisms must be very
+inaccurate and imperfect, as there I have ever felt and lamented my
+want of learning most.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXX.
+
+
+TO MR. ROBERT AINSLIE.
+
+[I have heard the gentleman say, to whom this brief letter is
+addressed, how much he was pleased with the intimation, that the poet
+had reunited himself with Jean Armour, for he know his heart was with
+her.]
+
+_Mauchline, May 26, 1788._
+
+MY DEAR FRIEND,
+
+I am two kind letters in your debt, but I have been from home, and
+horribly busy, buying and preparing for my farming business, over and
+above the plague of my Excise instructions, which this week will
+finish.
+
+As I flatter my wishes that I foresee many future years'
+correspondence between us, 'tis foolish to talk of excusing dull
+epistles; a dull letter may be a very kind one. I have the pleasure to
+tell you that I have been extremely fortunate in all my buyings, and
+bargainings hitherto; Mrs. Burns not excepted; which title I now avow
+to the world. I am truly pleased with this last affair: it has indeed
+added to my anxieties for futurity, but it has given a stability to my
+mind, and resolutions unknown before; and the poor girl has the most
+sacred enthusiasm of attachment to me, and has not a wish but to
+gratify my every idea of her deportment. I am interrupted.--Farewell!
+my dear Sir.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXI.
+
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP.
+
+[This letter, on the hiring season, is well worth the consideration of
+all masters, and all servants. In England, servants are engaged by the
+month; in Scotland by the half-year, and therefore less at the mercy
+of the changeable and capricious.]
+
+27_th May, 1788._
+
+MADAM,
+
+I have been torturing my philosophy to no purpose, to account for that
+kind partiality of yours, which has followed me, in my return to the
+shade of life, with assiduous benevolence. Often did I regret, in the
+fleeting hours of my late will-o'-wisp appearance, that "here I had no
+continuing city;" and but for the consolation of a few solid guineas,
+could almost lament the time that a momentary acquaintance with wealth
+and splendour put me so much out of conceit with the sworn companions
+of my road through life--insignificance and poverty.
+
+There are few circumstances relating to the unequal distribution of
+the good things of this life that give me more vexation (I mean in
+what I see around me) than the importance the opulent bestow on their
+trifling family affairs, compared with the very same things on the
+contracted scale of a cottage. Last afternoon I had the honour to
+spend an hour or two at a good woman's fireside, where the planks that
+composed the floor were decorated with a splendid carpet, and the gay
+table sparkled with silver and china. 'Tis now about term-day, and
+there has been a revolution among those creatures, who though in
+appearance partakers, and equally noble partakers, of the same nature
+with Madame, are from time to time--their nerves, their sinews, their
+health, strength, wisdom, experience, genius, time, nay a good part of
+their very thoughts--sold for months and years, not only to the
+necessities, the conveniences, but, the caprices of the important few.
+We talked of the insignificant creatures, nay notwithstanding their
+general stupidity and rascality, did some of the poor devils the
+honour to commend them. But light be the turf upon his breast who
+taught "Reverence thyself!" We looked down on the unpolished wretches,
+their impertinent wives and clouterly brats, as the lordly bull does
+on the little dirty ant-hill, whose puny inhabitants he crushes in the
+carelessness of his ramble, or tosses in the air in the wantonness of
+his pride.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXII.
+
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP,
+
+AT MR DUNLOP'S, HADDINGTON.
+
+[In this, the poet's first letter from Ellisland, he lays down his
+whole system of in-door and out-door economy: while his wife took care
+of the household, he was to manage the farm, and "pen a stanza" during
+his hours of leisure.]
+
+_Ellisland, 13th June, 1788._
+
+    "Where'er I roam, whatever realms I see,
+    My heart, untravell'd, fondly turns to thee;
+    Still to my _friend_ it turns with ceaseless pain,
+    and drags at each remove a lengthening chain."
+
+GOLDSMITH.
+
+This is the second day, my honoured friend, that I have been on my
+farm. A solitary inmate of an old smoky spense; far from every object
+I love, or by whom I am beloved; nor any acquaintance older than
+yesterday, except Jenny Geddes, the old mare I ride on; while uncouth
+cares and novel plans hourly insult my awkward ignorance and bashful
+inexperience. There is a foggy atmosphere native to my soul in the
+hour of care; consequently the dreary objects seem larger than life.
+Extreme sensibility, irritated and prejudiced on the gloomy side by a
+series of misfortunes and disappointments, at that period of my
+existence when the soul is laying in her cargo of ideas for the voyage
+of life, is, I believe, the principal cause of this unhappy frame of
+mind.
+
+    "The valiant, in himself, what can he suffer?
+    Or what need he regard his _single_ woes?" &c.
+
+Your surmise, Madam, is just; I am indeed a husband.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+To jealousy or infidelity I am an equal stranger. My preservative from
+the first is the most thorough consciousness of her sentiments of
+honour, and her attachment to me: my antidote against the last is my
+long and deep-rooted affection for her.
+
+In housewife matters, of aptness to learn and activity to execute, she
+is eminently mistress; and during my absence in Nithsdale, she is
+regularly and constantly apprentice to my mother and sisters in their
+dairy and other rural business.
+
+The muses must not be offended when I tell them, the concerns of my
+wife and family will, in my mind, always take the _pas_; but I assure
+them their ladyships will ever come next in place.
+
+You are right that a bachelor state would have insured me more
+friends; but from a cause you will easily guess, conscious peace in
+the enjoyment of my own mind, and unmistrusting confidence in
+approaching my God, would seldom have been of the number.
+
+I found a once much-loved and still much-loved female, literally and
+truly cast out to the mercy of the naked elements; but I enabled her to
+_purchase_ a shelter;--there is no sporting with a fellow-creature's
+happiness or misery.
+
+The most placid good-nature and sweetness of disposition; a warm
+heart, gratefully devoted with all its powers to love me; vigorous
+health and sprightly cheerfulness, set off to the best advantage by a
+more than commonly handsome figure; these, I think, in a woman, may
+make a good wife, though she should never have read a page but the
+Scriptures of the Old and New Testament, nor have danced in a brighter
+assembly than a penny pay-wedding.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXIII.
+
+
+TO ROBERT AINSLIE, ESQ.
+
+[Had Burns written his fine song, beginning "Contented wi' little and
+cantie wi' mair," when he penned this letter, the prose might have
+followed as a note to the verse; he calls the Excise a luxury.]
+
+_Ellisland, June 14th, 1788._
+
+This is now the third day, my dearest Sir, that I have sojourned in
+these regions; and during these three days you have occupied more of
+my thoughts than in three weeks preceding: in Ayrshire I have several
+variations of friendship's compass, here it points invariably to the
+pole. My farm gives me a good many uncouth cares and anxieties, but I
+hate the language of complaint. Job, or some one of his friends, says
+well--"why should a living man complain?"
+
+I have lately been much mortified with contemplating an unlucky
+imperfection in the very framing and construction of my soul; namely,
+a blundering inaccuracy of her olfactory organs in hitting the scent
+of craft or design in my fellow-creatures. I do not mean any
+compliment to my ingenuousness, or to hint that the defect is in
+consequence of the unsuspicious simplicity of conscious truth or
+honour: I take it to be, in some, why or other, an imperfection in the
+mental sight; or, metaphor apart, some modification of dulness. In two
+or three small instances lately, I have been most shamefully out.
+
+I have all along hitherto, in the warfare of life, been bred to arms
+among the light-horse--the piquet-guards of fancy: a kind of hussars
+and Highlanders of the brain; but I am firmly resolved to sell out of
+these giddy battalions, who have no ideas of a battle but fighting the
+foe, or of a siege but storming the town. Cost what it will, I am
+determined to buy in among the grave squadrons of heavy-armed thought,
+or the artillery corps of plodding contrivance.
+
+What books are you reading, or what is the subject of your thoughts,
+besides the great studies of your profession? You said something about
+religion in your last. I don't exactly remember what it was, as the
+letter is in Ayrshire; but I thought it not only prettily said, but
+nobly thought. You will make a noble fellow if once you were married.
+I make no reservation of your being well-married: you have so much
+sense, and knowledge of human nature, that though you may not realize
+perhaps the ideas of romance, yet you will never be ill-married.
+
+Were it not for the terrors of my ticklish situation respecting
+provision for a family of children, I am decidedly of opinion that the
+step I have taken is vastly for my happiness. As it is I look to the
+Excise scheme as a certainty of maintenance!--luxury to what either
+Mrs. Burns or I were born to.
+
+Adieu.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXIV.
+
+
+TO ROBERT AINSLIE, ESQ.
+
+[The kindness of Field, the profilist, has not only indulged me with a
+look at the original, from which the profile alluded to in the letter
+was taken, but has put me in possession of a capital copy.]
+
+_Mauchline, 23d June, 1788._
+
+This letter, my dear Sir, is only a business scrap. Mr. Miers, profile
+painter in your town, has executed a profile of Dr. Blacklock for me:
+do me the favour to call for it, and sit to him yourself for me, which
+put in the same size as the doctor's. The account of both profiles
+will be fifteen shillings, which I have given to James Connell, our
+Mauchline carrier, to pay you when you give him the parcel. You must
+not, my friend, refuse to sit. The time is short: when I sat to Mr.
+Miers, I am sure he did not exceed two minutes. I propose hanging Lord
+Glencairn, the Doctor, and you in trio over my new chimney-piece that
+is to be.
+
+Adieu.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXV.
+
+
+TO ROBERT AINSLIE, ESQ.
+
+["There is a degree of folly," says Burns in this letter, "in talking
+unnecessarily of one's private affairs." The folly is scarcely less to
+write about them, and much did the poet and his friend write about
+their own private affairs as well as those of others.]
+
+_Ellisland, June 30th, 1788._
+
+MY DEAR SIR,
+
+I just now received your brief epistle; and, to take vengeance on your
+laziness, I have, you see, taken a long sheet of writing-paper, and
+have begun at the top of the page, intending to scribble on to the
+very last corner.
+
+I am vexed at that affair of the * * *, but dare not enlarge on the
+subject until you send me your direction, as I suppose that will be
+altered on your late master and friend's death. I am concerned for the
+old fellow's exit, only as I fear it may be to your disadvantage in
+any respect--for an old man's dying, except he has been a very
+benevolent character, or in some particular situation of life that the
+welfare of the poor or the helpless depended on him, I think it an
+event of the most trifling moment in the world. Man is naturally a
+kind, benevolent animal, but he is dropped into such a needy situation
+here in this vexatious world, and has such a whoreson hungry,
+growling, multiplying pack of necessities, appetites, passions, and
+desires about him, ready to devour him for want of other food; that in
+fact he must lay aside his cares for others that he may look properly
+to himself. You have been imposed upon in paying Mr. Miers for the
+profile of a Mr. H. I did not mention it in my letter to you, nor did
+I ever give Mr. Miers any such order. I have no objection to lose the
+money, but I will not have any such profile in my possession.
+
+I desired the carrier to pay you, but as I mentioned only fifteen
+shillings to him, I would rather enclose you a guinea note. I have it
+not, indeed, to spare here, as I am only a sojourner in a strange land
+in this place; but in a day or two I return to Mauchline, and there I
+have the bank-notes through the house like salt permits.
+
+There is a great degree of folly in talking unnecessarily of one's
+private affairs. I have just now been interrupted by one of my new
+neighbours, who has made himself absolutely contemptible in my eyes,
+by his silly garrulous pruriency. I know it has been a fault of my
+own, too; but from this moment I abjure it, as I would the service of
+hell! Your poets, spend-thrifts, and other fools of that kidney,
+pretend forsooth to crack their jokes on prudence; but 'tis a squalid
+vagabond glorying in his rags. Still, imprudence respecting money
+matters is much more pardonable than imprudence respecting character.
+I have no objection to prefer prodigality to avarice, in some few
+instances; but I appeal to your observation, if you have not met, and
+often met, with the same disingenuousness, the same hollow-hearted
+insincerity, and disintegritive depravity of principle, in the
+hackneyed victims of profusion, as in the unfeeling children of
+parsimony. I have every possible reverence for the much-talked-of
+world beyond the grave, and I wish that which piety believes, and
+virtue deserves, may be all matter of fact. But in things belonging
+to, and terminating in this present scene of existence, man has
+serious and interesting business on hand. Whether a man shall shake
+hands with welcome in the distinguished elevation of respect, or
+shrink from contempt in the abject corner of insignificance; whether
+he shall wanton under the tropic of plenty, at least enjoy himself in
+the comfortable latitudes of easy convenience, or starve in the arctic
+circle of dreary poverty; whether he shall rise in the manly
+consciousness of a self-approving mind, or sink beneath a galling load
+of regret and remorse--these are alternatives of the last moment.
+
+You see how I preach. You used occasionally to sermonize too; I wish
+you would, in charity, favour me with a sheet full in your own way. I
+admire the close of a letter Lord Bolingbroke writes to Dean
+Swift:--"Adieu dear Swift! with all thy faults I love thee entirely:
+make an effort to love me with all mine!" Humble servant, and all that
+trumpery, is now such a prostituted business, that honest friendship,
+in her sincere way, must have recourse to her primitive,
+simple,--farewell!
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXVI.
+
+
+TO MR. GEORGE LOCKHART,
+
+MERCHANT, GLASGOW.
+
+[Burns, more than any poet of the age, loved to write out copies of
+his favourite poems, and present them to his friends: he sent "The
+Falls of Bruar" to Mr. Lockhart.]
+
+_Mauchline, 18th July, 1788._
+
+MY DEAR SIR,
+
+I am just going for Nithsdale, else I would certainly have transcribed
+some of my rhyming things for you. The Miss Baillies I have seen in
+Edinburgh. "Fair and lovely are thy works, Lord God Almighty! Who
+would not praise thee for these thy gifts in thy goodness to the sons
+of men!" It needed not your fine taste to admire them. I declare, one
+day I had the honour of dining at Mr. Baillie's, I was almost in the
+predicament of the children of Israel, when they could not look on
+Moses' face for the glory that shone in it when he descended from
+Mount Sinai.
+
+I did once write a poetic address from the Falls of Bruar to his Grace
+of Athole, when I was in the Highlands. When you return to Scotland,
+let me know, and I will send such of my pieces as please myself best.
+I return to Mauchline in about ten days.
+
+My compliments to Mr. Purdon. I am in truth, but at present in haste,
+
+Yours,--R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXVII.
+
+
+TO MR. PETER HILL.
+
+[Peter Hill was a bookseller in Edinburgh: David Ramsay, printer of
+the Evening Courant: William Dunbar, an advocate, and president of a
+club of Edinburgh wits; and Alexander Cunningham, a jeweller, who
+loved mirth and wine.]
+
+MY DEAR HILL,
+
+I shall say nothing to your mad present--you have so long and often
+been of important service to me, and I suppose you mean to go on
+conferring obligations until I shall not be able to lift up my face
+before you. In the mean time, as Sir Roger de Coverley, because it
+happened to be a cold day in which he made his will, ordered his
+servants great coats for mourning, so, because I have been this week
+plagued with an indigestion, I have sent you by the carrier a fine old
+ewe-milk cheese.
+
+Indigestion is the devil: nay, 'tis the devil and all. It besets a man
+in every one of his senses. I lose my appetite at the sight of
+successful knavery, and sicken to loathing at the noise and nonsense
+of self-important folly. When the hollow-hearted wretch takes me by
+the hand, the feeling spoils my dinner: the proud man's wine so
+offends my palate that it chokes me in the gullet; and the
+_pulvilised_, feathered, pert coxcomb is so disgustful in my nostril
+that my stomach turns.
+
+If ever you have any of these disagreeable sensations, let me
+prescribe for you patience; and a bit of my cheese. I know that you
+are no niggard of your good things among your friends, and some of
+them are in much need of a slice. There, in my eye is our friend
+Smellie; a man positively of the first abilities and greatest strength
+of mind, as well as one of the best hearts and keenest wits that I
+have ever met with; when you see him, as, alas! he too is smarting at
+the pinch of distressful circumstances, aggravated by the sneer of
+contumelious greatness--a bit of my cheese alone will not cure him,
+but if you add a tankard of brown stout, and superadd a magnum of
+right Oporto, you will see his sorrows vanish like the morning mist
+before the summer sun.
+
+Candlish, the earliest friend, except my only brother, that I have on
+earth, and one of the worthiest fellows that ever any man called by
+the name of friend, if a luncheon of my cheese would help to rid him
+of some of his super-abundant modesty, you would do well to give it
+him.
+
+David,[184] with his _Courant_, comes, too, across my recollection, and
+I beg you will help him largely from the said ewe-milk cheese, to
+enable him to digest those bedaubing paragraphs with which he is
+eternally larding the lean characters of certain great men in a
+certain great town. I grant you the periods are very well turned; so,
+a fresh egg is a very good thing, but when thrown at a man in a
+pillory, it does not at all improve his figure, not to mention the
+irreparable loss of the egg.
+
+My facetious friend Dunbar I would wish also to be a partaker: not to
+digest his spleen, for that he laughs off, but to digest his last
+night's wine at the last field-day of the Crochallan corps.[185]
+
+Among our common friends I must not forget one of the dearest of
+them--Cunningham. The brutality, insolence, and selfishness of a world
+unworthy of having such a fellow as he is in it, I know sticks in his
+stomach, and if you can help him to anything that will make him a
+little easier on that score, it will be very obliging.
+
+As to honest J---- S----e, he is such a contented, happy man, that I
+know not what can annoy him, except, perhaps, he may not have got the
+better of a parcel of modest anecdotes which a certain poet gave him
+one night at supper, the last time the said poet was in town.
+
+Though I have mentioned so many men of law, I shall have nothing to do
+with them professedly--the faculty are beyond my prescription. As to
+their clients, that is another thing; God knows they have much to
+digest!
+
+The clergy I pass by; their profundity of erudition, and their
+liberality of sentiment; their total want of pride, and their
+detestation of hypocrisy, are so proverbially notorious as to place
+them far, far above either my praise or censure.
+
+I was going to mention a man of worth whom I have the honour to call
+friend, the Laird of Craigdarroch; but I have spoken to the landlord
+of the King's-Arms inn here, to have at the next county meeting a
+large ewe-milk cheese on the table, for the benefit of the
+Dumfries-shire Whigs, to enable them to digest the Duke of
+Queensberry's late political conduct.
+
+I have just this moment an opportunity of a private hand to Edinburgh,
+as perhaps you would not digest double postage.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 184: Printer of the _Edinburgh Evening Courant._]
+
+[Footnote 185: A club of choice spirits.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXVIII.
+
+
+TO ROBERT GRAHAM, ESQ.,
+
+OF FINTRAY.
+
+[The filial and fraternal claims alluded to in this letter were
+satisfied with about three hundred pounds, two hundred of which went
+to his brother Gilbert--a sum which made a sad inroad on the money
+arising from the second edition of his Poems.]
+
+SIR,
+
+When I had the honour of being introduced to you at Athole-house, I
+did not think so soon of asking a favour of you. When Lear, in
+Shakspeare, asked Old Kent why he wished to be in his service, he
+answers, "Because you have that in your face which I would fain call
+master." For some such reason, Sir, do I now solicit your patronage.
+You know, I dare say, of an application I lately made to your Board to
+be admitted an officer of Excise. I have, according to form, been
+examined by a supervisor, and to-day I gave in his certificate, with a
+request for an order for instructions. In this affair, if I succeed, I
+am afraid I shall but too much need a patronizing friend. Propriety of
+conduct as a man, and fidelity and attention as an officer, I dare
+engage for; but with anything like business, except manual labour, I
+am totally unacquainted.
+
+I had intended to have closed my late appearance on the stage of life,
+in the character of a country farmer; but after discharging some
+filial and fraternal claims, I find I could only fight for existence
+in that miserable manner, which I have lived to see throw a venerable
+parent into the jaws of a jail; whence death, the poor man's last and
+often best friend, rescued him.
+
+I know, Sir, that to need your goodness, is to have a claim on it; may
+I, therefore, beg your patronage to forward me in this affair, till I
+be appointed to a division; where, by the help of rigid economy, I
+will try to support that independence so dear to my soul, but which
+has been too often so distant from my situation.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXIX.
+
+
+TO WILLIAM CRUIKSHANK.
+
+[The verses which this letter conveyed to Cruikshank were the lines
+written in Friars-Carse Hermitage: "the first-fruits," says the poet,
+elsewhere, "of my intercourse with the Nithsdale muse."]
+
+_Ellisland, August, 1788._
+
+I have not room, my dear friend, to answer all the particulars of your
+last kind letter. I shall be in Edinburgh on some business very soon;
+and as I shall be two days, or perhaps three, in town, we shall
+discuss matters _viva voce._ My knee, I believe, will never be
+entirely well; and an unlucky fall this winter has made it still
+worse. I well remember the circumstance you allude to, respecting
+Creech's opinion of Mr. Nicol; but, as the first gentleman owes me
+still about fifty pounds, I dare not meddle in the affair.
+
+It gave me a very heavy heart to read such accounts of the consequence
+of your quarrel with that puritanic, rotten-hearted, hell-commissioned
+scoundrel A----. If, notwithstanding your unprecedented industry in
+public, and your irreproachable conduct in private life, he still has
+you so much in his power, what ruin may he not bring on some others I
+could name?
+
+Many and happy returns of seasons to you, with your dearest and
+worthiest friend, and the lovely little pledge of your happy union.
+May the great Author of life, and of every enjoyment that can render
+life delightful, make her that comfortable blessing to you both, which
+you so ardently wish for, and which, allow me to say, you so well
+deserve! Glance over the foregoing verses, and let me have your blots.
+
+Adieu.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXX.
+
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP.
+
+[The lines on the Hermitage were presented by the poet to several of
+his friends, and Mrs. Dunlop was among the number.]
+
+_Mauchline, August 2, 1788._
+
+HONOURED MADAM,
+
+Your kind letter welcomed me, yesternight, to Ayrshire. I am, indeed,
+seriously angry with you at the quantum of your luckpenny; but, vexed
+and hurt as I was, I could not help laughing very heartily at the
+noble lord's apology for the missed napkin.
+
+I would write you from Nithsdale, and give you my direction there, but
+I have scarce an opportunity of calling at a post-office once in a
+fortnight. I am six miles from Dumfries, am scarcely ever in it
+myself, and, as yet, have little acquaintance in the neighbourhood.
+Besides, I am now very busy on my farm, building a dwelling-house; as
+at present I am almost an evangelical man in Nithsdale, for I have
+scarce "where to lay my head."
+
+There are some passages in your last that brought tears in my eyes.
+"The heart knoweth its own sorrows, and a stranger intermeddleth not
+therewith." The repository of these "sorrows of the heart" is a kind
+of _sanctum sanctorum:_ and 'tis only a chosen friend, and that, too,
+at particular sacred times, who dares enter into them:--
+
+    "Heaven oft tears the bosom-chords
+    That nature finest strung."
+
+You will excuse this quotation for the sake of the author. Instead of
+entering on this subject farther, I shall transcribe you a few lines I
+wrote in a hermitage, belonging to a gentleman in my Nithsdale
+neighbourhood. They are almost the only favours the muses have
+conferred on me in that country:--
+
+    Thou whom chance may hither lead.[186]
+
+Since I am in the way of transcribing, the following were the
+production of yesterday as I jogged through the wild hills of New
+Cumnock. I intend inserting them, or something like them, in an
+epistle I am going to write to the gentleman on whose friendship my
+Excise hopes depend, Mr. Graham, of Fintray, one of the worthiest and
+most accomplished gentlemen not only of this country, but, I will dare
+to say it, of this age. The following are just the first crude
+thoughts "unhousel'd, unanointed, unanneal'd:"--
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    Pity the tuneful muses' helpless train;
+    Weak, timid landsmen on life's stormy main:
+    The world were blest, did bliss on them depend;
+    Ah, that "the friendly e'er should want a friend!"
+    The little fate bestows they share as soon;
+    Unlike sage, proverb'd, wisdom's hard-wrung boon.
+    Let Prudence number o'er each sturdy son,
+    Who life and wisdom at one race begun;
+    Who feel by reason and who give by rule;
+    Instinct's a brute and sentiment a fool!
+    Who make poor _will do_ wait upon _I should_;
+    We own they're prudent, but who owns they're good?
+
+    Ye wise ones, hence! ye hurt the social eye;
+    God's image rudely etch'd on base alloy!
+    But come *  *  *  *  *  *
+
+Here the muse left me. I am astonished at what yon tell me of
+Anthony's writing me. I never received it. Poor fellow! you vex me
+much by telling me that he is unfortunate. I shall be in Ayrshire ten
+days from this date. I have just room for an old Roman farewell.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 186: See Poems LXXXIX and XC]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXXI.
+
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP.
+
+[This letter has been often cited, and very properly, as a proof of
+the strong attachment of Burns to one who was, in many respects,
+worthy.]
+
+_Mauchline, August 10, 1788._
+
+MY MUCH HONOURED FRIEND,
+
+Yours of the 24th June is before me. I found it, as well as another
+valued friend--my wife, waiting to welcome me to Ayrshire: I met both
+with the sincerest pleasure.
+
+When I write you, Madam, I do not sit down to answer every paragraph
+of yours, by echoing every sentiment, like the faithful Commons of
+Great Britain in Parliament assembled, answering a speech from the
+best of kings! I express myself in the fulness of my heart, and may,
+perhaps, be guilty of neglecting some of your kind inquiries; but not
+from your very old reason, that I do not read your letters. All your
+epistles for several months have cost me nothing, except a swelling
+throb of gratitude, or a deep-felt sentiment of veneration.
+
+When Mrs. Burns, Madam, first found herself "as women wish to be who
+love their lords," as I loved her nearly to distraction, we took steps
+for a private marriage. Her parents got the hint; and not only forbade
+me her company and their house, but, on my rumoured West Indian
+voyage, got a warrant to put me in jail, till I should find security
+in my about-to-be paternal relation. You know my lucky reverse of
+fortune. On my _eclatant_ return to Mauchline, I was made very welcome
+to visit my girl. The usual consequences began to betray her; and, as
+I was at that time laid up a cripple in Edinburgh, she was turned,
+literally turned out of doors, and I wrote to a friend to shelter her
+till my return, when our marriage was declared. Her happiness or
+misery were in my hands, and who could trifle with such a deposit?
+
+I can easily fancy a more agreeable companion for my journey of life;
+but, upon my honour, I have never seen the individual instance.
+
+Circumstanced as I am, I could never have got a female partner for
+life, who could have entered into my favourite studies, relished my
+favourite authors, &c., without probably entailing on me at the same
+time expensive living, fantastic caprice, perhaps apish affectation,
+with all the other blessed boarding-school acquirements, which
+(_pardonnez moi, Madame_,) are sometimes to be found among females of
+the upper ranks, but almost universally pervade the misses of the
+would-be gentry.
+
+I like your way in your church-yard lucubrations. Thoughts that are
+the spontaneous result of accidental situations, either respecting
+health, place, or company, have often a strength, and always an
+originality, that would in vain be looked for in fancied circumstances
+and studied paragraphs. For me, I have often thought of keeping a
+letter, in progression by me, to send you when the sheet was written
+out. Now I talk of sheets, I must tell you, my reason for writing to
+you on paper of this kind is my pruriency of writing to you at large.
+A page of post is on such a dissocial, narrow-minded scale, that I
+cannot abide it; and double letters, at least in my miscellaneous
+revery manner, are a monstrous tax in a close correspondence.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXXII.
+
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP.
+
+[Mrs. Miller, of Dalswinton, was a lady of beauty and talent: she
+wrote verses with skill and taste. Her maiden name was Jean Lindsay.]
+
+_Ellisland, 16th August, 1788._
+
+I am in a fine disposition, my honoured friend, to send you an elegiac
+epistle; and want only genius to make it quite Shenstonian:--
+
+    "Why droops my heart with fancied woes forlorn?
+    Why sinks my soul, beneath each wintry sky?"
+
+My increasing cares in this, as yet strange country--gloomy
+conjectures in the dark vista of futurity--consciousness of my own
+inability for the struggle of the world--my broadened mark to
+misfortune in a wife and children;--I could indulge these reflections
+till my humour should ferment into the most acid chagrin, that would
+corrode the very thread of life.
+
+To counterwork these baneful feelings, I have sat down to write to
+you; as I declare upon my soul I always find that the most sovereign
+balm for my wounded spirit.
+
+I was yesterday at Mr. Miller's to dinner for the first time. My
+reception was quite to my mind: from the lady of the house quite
+flattering. She sometimes hits on a couplet or two, _impromptu._ She
+repeated one or two to the admiration of all present. My suffrage as a
+professional man, was expected: I for once went agonizing over the
+belly of my conscience. Pardon me, ye my adored household gods,
+independence of spirit, and integrity of soul! In the course of
+conversation, "Johnson's Musical Museum," a collection of Scottish
+songs with the music, was talked of. We got a song on the harpsichord,
+beginning,
+
+    "Raving winds around her blowing."[187]
+
+The air was much admired: the lady of the house asked me whose were
+the words. "Mine, Madam--they are indeed my very best verses;" she
+took not the smallest notice of them! The old Scottish proverb says
+well, "king's caff is better than ither folks' corn." I was going to
+make a New Testament quotation about "casting pearls" but that would
+be too virulent, for the lady is actually a woman of sense and taste.
+
+After all that has been said on the other side of the question, man is
+by no means a happy creature. I do not speak of the selected few,
+favoured by partial heaven, whose souls are tuned to gladness amid
+riches and honours, and prudence and wisdom. I speak of the neglected
+many, whose nerves, whose sinews, whose days are sold to the minions
+of fortune.
+
+If I thought you had never seen it, I would transcribe for you a
+stanza of an old Scottish ballad, called, "The Life and Age of Man;"
+beginning thus:
+
+    "'Twas in the sixteenth hunder year
+      Of God and fifty-three,
+    Frae Christ was born, that bought us dear,
+      As writings testifie."
+
+I had an old grand-uncle, with whom my mother lived awhile in her
+girlish years; the good old man, for such he was, was long blind ere
+he died, during which time his highest enjoyment was to sit down and
+cry, while my mother would sing the simple old song of "the Life and
+Age of Man."
+
+It is this way of thinking; it is these melancholy truths, that make
+religion so precious to the poor, miserable children of men.--If it is
+a mere phantom, existing only in the heated imagination of enthusiasm,
+
+    "What truth on earth so precious as a lie."
+
+My idle reasonings sometimes make me a little sceptical, but the
+necessities of my heart always give the cold philosophisings the lie.
+Who looks for the heart weaned from earth; the soul affianced to her
+God; the correspondent devout thanksgiving, constant as the
+vicissitudes of even and morn; who thinks to meet with these in the
+court, the palace, in the glare of public life? No: to find them in
+their precious importance and divine efficacy, we must search among
+the obscure recesses of disappointment, affliction, poverty, and
+distress.
+
+I am sure, dear Madam, you are now more than pleased with the length
+of my letters. I return to Ayrshire middle of next week: and it
+quickens my pace to think that there will be a letter from you waiting
+me there. I must be here again very soon for my harvest.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 187: See Song LII.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXXIII.
+
+
+TO MR. BEUGO,
+
+ENGRAVER, EDINBURGH.
+
+[Mr. Beugo was at well-known engraver in Edinburgh: he engraved
+Nasmyth's portrait of Burns, for Creech's first edition of his Poems;
+and as he could draw a little, he improved, as he called it, the
+engraving from sittings of the poet, and made it a little more like,
+and a little less poetic.]
+
+_Ellisland, 9th Sept. 1788._
+
+MY DEAR SIR,
+
+There is not in Edinburgh above the number of the graces whose letters
+would have given me so much pleasure as yours of the 3d instant, which
+only reached me yesternight.
+
+I am here on the farm, busy with my harvest; but for all that most
+pleasurable part of life called SOCIAL COMMUNICATION, I am
+here at the very elbow of existence. The only things that are to be
+found in this country, in any degree of perfection, are stupidity and
+canting. Prose they only know in graces, prayers, &c., and the value
+of these they estimate as they do their plaiding webs--by the ell! As
+for the muses, they have as much an idea of a rhinoceros as of a poet.
+For my old capricious but good-natured huzzy of a muse--
+
+    "By banks of Nith I sat and wept
+      When Coila I thought on,
+    In midst thereof I hung my harp
+      The willow-trees upon."
+
+I am generally about half my time in Ayrshire with my "darling Jean,"
+and then I, at lucid intervals, throw my horny fist across my
+becob-webbed lyre, much in the same manner as an old wife throws her
+hand across the spokes of her spinning-wheel.
+
+I will send you the "Fortunate Shepherdess" as soon as I return to
+Ayrshire, for there I keep it with other precious treasure. I shall
+send it by a careful hand, as I would not for anything it should be
+mislaid or lost. I do not wish to serve you from any benevolence, or
+other grave Christian virtue; 'tis purely a selfish gratification of
+my own feelings whenever I think of you.
+
+If your better functions would give you leisure to write me, I should
+be extremely happy; that is to say if you neither keep nor look for a
+regular correspondence. I hate the idea of being obliged to write a
+letter. I sometimes write a friend twice a week, at other times once a
+quarter.
+
+I am exceedingly pleased with your fancy in making the author you
+mention place a map of Iceland instead of his portrait before his
+works: 'twas a glorious idea.
+
+Could you conveniently do me one thing?--whenever you finish any head
+I should like to have a proof copy of it. I might tell you a long
+story about your fine genius; but as what everybody knows cannot have
+escaped you, I shall not say one syllable about it.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXXIV.
+
+
+TO MISS CHALMERS,
+
+EDINBURGH.
+
+[To this fine letter all the biographer of Burns are largely
+indebted.]
+
+_Ellisland, near Dumfries, Sept. 16th, 1788._
+
+Where are you? and how are you? and is Lady Mackenzie recovering her
+health? for I have had but one solitary letter from you. I will not
+think you have forgot me, Madam; and for my part--
+
+    "When thee, Jerusalem, I forget,
+      Skill part from my right hand!"
+
+"My heart is not of that rock, nor my soul careless as that sea." I do
+not make my progress among mankind as a bowl does among its
+fellows--rolling through the crowd without bearing away any mark of
+impression, except where they hit in hostile collision.
+
+I am here, driven in with my harvest-folks by bad weather; and as you
+and your sister once did me the honour of interesting yourselves much
+_a l'egard de moi_, I sit down to beg the continuation of your
+goodness. I can truly say that, all the exterior of life apart, I
+never saw two, whose esteem flattered the nobler feelings of my
+soul--I will not say more, but so much as Lady Mackenzie and Miss
+Chalmers. When I think of you--hearts the best, minds the noblest of
+human kind--unfortunate even in the shades of life--when I think I
+have met with you, and have lived more of real life with you in eight
+days than I can do with almost any body I meet with in eight
+years--when I think on the improbability of meeting you in this world
+again--I could sit down and cry like a child! If ever you honoured me
+with a place in your esteem, I trust I can now plead more desert. I
+am secure against that crushing grip of iron poverty, which, alas! is
+less or more fatal to the native worth and purity of, I fear, the
+noblest souls; and a late important step in my life has kindly taken
+me out of the way of those ungrateful iniquities, which, however
+overlooked in fashionable license, or varnished in fashionable phrase,
+are indeed but lighter and deeper shades of VILLANY.
+
+Shortly after my last return to Ayrshire, I married "my Jean." This
+was not in consequence of the attachment of romance, perhaps; but I
+had a long and much-loved fellow-creature's happiness or misery in my
+determination, and I durst not trifle with so important a deposit. Nor
+have I any cause to repent it. If I have not got polite tattle, modish
+manners, and fashionable dress, I am not sickened and disgusted with
+the multiform curse of boarding-school affectation: and I have got the
+handsomest figure, the sweetest temper, the soundest constitution, and
+the kindest heart in the county. Mrs. Burns believes, as firmly as her
+creed, that I am _le plus bel esprit, et le plus honnete homme_ in the
+universe; although she scarcely ever in her life, except the
+Scriptures of the Old and New Testament, and the Psalms of David in
+metre, spent five minutes together either on prose or verse. I must
+except also from this last a certain late publication of Scots poems,
+which she has perused very devoutly; and all the ballads in the
+country, as she has (O the partial lover! you will cry) the finest
+"wood-note wild" I ever heard. I am the more particular in this lady's
+character, as I know she will henceforth have the honour of a share in
+your best wishes. She is still at Mauchline, as I am building my
+house; for this hovel that I shelter in, while occasionally here, is
+pervious to every blast that blows, and every shower that falls; and I
+am only preserved from being chilled to death by being suffocated with
+smoke. I do not find my farm that pennyworth I was taught to expect,
+but I believe, in time, it may be a saving bargain. You will be
+pleased to hear that I have laid aside idle _eclat_, and bind every
+day after my reapers.
+
+To save me from that horrid situation of at any time going down in a
+losing bargain of a farm, to misery, I have taken my Excise
+instructions, and have my commission in my pocket for any emergency of
+fortune. If I could set all before your view, whatever disrespect you,
+in common with the world, have for this business, I know you would
+approve of my idea.
+
+I will make no apology, dear Madam, for this egotistic detail; I know
+you and your sister will be interested in every circumstance of it.
+What signify the silly, idle gewgaws of wealth, or the ideal trumpery
+of greatness! When fellow-partakers of the same nature fear the same
+God, have the same benevolence of heart, the same nobleness of soul,
+the same detestation at everything dishonest, and the same scorn at
+everything unworthy--if they are not in the dependence of absolute
+beggary, in the name of common sense are they not EQUALS? And
+if the bias, the instinctive bias, of their souls run the same way,
+why may they not be FRIENDS?
+
+When I may have an opportunity of sending you this, Heaven only knows.
+Shenstone says, "When one is confined idle within doors by bad
+weather, the best antidote against _ennui_ is to read the letters of
+or write to, one's friends;" in that case then, if the weather
+continues thus, I may scrawl you half a quire.
+
+I very lately--to wit, since harvest began--wrote a poem, not in
+imitation, but in the manner, of Pope's Moral Epistles. It is only a
+short essay, just to try the strength of my muse's pinion in that way.
+I will send you a copy of it, when once I have heard from you. I have
+likewise been laying the foundation of some pretty large poetic works:
+how the superstructure will come on, I leave to that great maker and
+marrer of projects--TIME. Johnson's collection of Scots songs
+is going on in the third volume; and, of consequence, finds me a
+consumpt for a great deal of idle metre. One of the most tolerable
+things I have done in that way is two stanzas I made to an air, a
+musical gentleman of my acquaintance composed for the anniversary of
+his wedding-day, which happens on the seventh of November. Take it as
+follows:--
+
+    "The day returns--my bosom burns,
+    The blissful day we twa did meet," &c.[188]
+
+I shall give over this letter for shame. If I should be seized with a
+scribbling fit, before this goes away, I shall make it another letter;
+and then you may allow your patience a week's respite between the two.
+I have not room for more than the old, kind, hearty farewell.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+To make some amends, _mes cheres Mesdames_, for dragging you on to
+this second sheet, and to relieve a little the tiresomeness of my
+unstudied and uncorrectible prose, I shall transcribe you some of my
+late poetic bagatelles; though I have, these eight or ten months, done
+very little that way. One day in a hermitage on the banks of Nith,
+belonging to a gentleman in my neighbourhood, who is so good as give
+me a key at pleasure, I wrote as follows; supposing myself the
+sequestered, venerable inhabitant of the lonely mansion.
+
+LINES WRITTEN IN FRIARS-CARSE
+
+HERMITAGE.
+
+    "Thou whom chance may hither lead,
+    Be thou clad in russet weed."[189]
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 188: Song LXIX.]
+
+[Footnote 189: Poems LXXXIX. and XC.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXXV.
+
+
+TO MR. MORISON,
+
+MAUCHLINE.
+
+[Morison, of Mauchline, made most of the poet's furniture, for
+Ellisland: from Mauchline, too, came that eight-day clock, which was
+sold, at the death of the poet's widow, for thirty-eight pounds, to
+one who would have paid one hundred, sooner than wanted it.]
+
+_Ellisland, September 22, 1788._
+
+MY DEAR SIR,
+
+Necessity obliges me to go into my new house even before it be
+plastered. I will inhabit the one end until the other is finished.
+About three weeks more, I think, will at farthest be my time, beyond
+which I cannot stay in this present house. If ever you wished to
+deserve the blessing of him that was ready to perish; if ever you were
+in a situation that a little kindness would have rescued you from many
+evils; if ever you hope to find rest in future states of untried
+being--get these matters of mine ready. My servant will be out in the
+beginning of next week for the clock. My compliments to Mrs. Morison.
+
+I am,
+
+After all my tribulation,
+
+Dear Sir, yours,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXXVI.
+
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP,
+
+OF DUNLOP.
+
+[Burns had no great respect for critics who found blemishes without
+perceiving beauties: he expresses his contempt for such in this
+letter.]
+
+_Mauchline, 27th Sept. 1788._
+
+I have received twins, dear Madam, more than once; but scarcely ever
+with more pleasure than when I received yours of the 12th instant. To
+make myself understood; I had wrote to Mr. Graham, enclosing my poem
+addressed to him, and the same post which favoured me with yours
+brought me an answer from him. It was dated the very day he had
+received mine; and I am quite at a loss to say whether it was most
+polite or kind.
+
+Your criticisms, my honoured benefactress, are truly the work of a
+friend. They are not the blasting depredations of a canker-toothed,
+caterpillar critic; nor are they the fair statement of cold
+impartiality, balancing with unfeeling exactitude the _pro_ and _con_
+of an author's merits; they are the judicious observations of animated
+friendship, selecting the beauties of the piece. I have just arrived
+from Nithsdale, and will be here a fortnight. I was on horseback this
+morning by three o'clock; for between my wife and my farm is just
+forty-six miles. As I jogged on in the dark, I was taken with a poetic
+fit as follows:
+
+"Mrs. Ferguson of Craigdarroch's lamentation for the death of her son;
+an uncommonly promising youth of eighteen or nineteen years of age."
+
+    "Fate gave the word--the arrow sped,
+    And pierced my darling's heart."[190]
+
+You will not send me your poetic rambles, but, you see I am no niggard
+of mine. I am sure your impromptus give me double pleasure; what falls
+from your pen can neither be unentertaining in itself, nor indifferent
+to me.
+
+The one fault you found, is just; but I cannot please myself in an
+emendation.
+
+What a life of solicitude is the life of a parent! You interested me
+much in your young couple.
+
+I would not take my folio paper for this epistle, and now I repent it.
+I am so jaded with my dirty long journey that I was afraid to drawl
+into the essence of dulness with anything larger than a quarto, and
+so I must leave out another rhyme of this morning's manufacture.
+
+I will pay the sapientipotent George, most cheerfully, to hear from
+you ere I leave Ayrshire.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 190: Poem XCII.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXXVII.
+
+
+TO MR. PETER HILL.
+
+["The 'Address to Lochlomond,' which this letter criticises," says
+Currie in 1800, "was written by a gentleman, now one of the masters of
+the High-school of Edinburgh, and the same who translated the
+beautiful story of 'The Paria,' published in the Bee of Dr.
+Anderson."]
+
+_Mauchline, 1st October, 1788._
+
+I have been here in this country about three days, and all that time
+my chief reading has been the "Address to Lochlomond" you were so
+obliging as to send to me. Were I impannelled one of the author's
+jury, to determine his criminality respecting the sin of poesy, my
+verdict should be "guilty! a poet of nature's making!". It is an
+excellent method for improvement, and what I believe every poet does,
+to place some favourite classic author in his own walks of study and
+composition, before him as a model. Though your author had not
+mentioned the name, I could have, at half a glance, guessed his model
+to be Thomson. Will my brother-poet forgive me, if I venture to hint
+that his imitation of that immortal bard is in two or three places
+rather more servile than such a genius as his required:--_e.g._
+
+    "To soothe the maddening passions all to peace."
+
+ADDRESS.
+
+    "To soothe the throbbing passions into peace."
+
+THOMSON.
+
+I think the "Address" is in simplicity, harmony, and elegance of
+versification, fully equal to the "Seasons." Like Thomson, too, he has
+looked into nature for himself: you meet with no copied description.
+One particular criticism I made at first reading; in no one instance
+has he said too much. He never flags in his progress, but, like a true
+poet of nature's making kindles in his course. His beginning is simple
+and modest, as if distrustful of the strength of his pinion; only, I
+do not altogether like--
+
+    -------------------------------"Truth
+    The soul of every song that's nobly great."
+
+Fiction is the soul of many a song that is nobly great. Perhaps I am
+wrong: this may be but a prose criticism. Is not the phrase in line 7,
+page 6, "Great lake," too much vulgarized by every-day language for so
+sublime a poem?
+
+    "Great mass of waters, theme for nobler song,"
+
+is perhaps no emendation. His enumeration of a comparison with other
+lakes is at once harmonious and poetic. Every reader's ideas must
+sweep the
+
+    "Winding margin of an hundred miles."
+
+The perspective that follows mountains blue--the imprisoned billows
+beating in vain--the wooded isles--the digression on the
+yew-tree--"Ben-lomond's lofty, cloud-envelop'd head," &c. are
+beautiful. A thunder-storm is a subject which has been often tried,
+yet our poet in his grand picture has interjected a circumstance, so
+far as I know, entirely original:--
+
+    -----------------------------"the gloom
+    Deep seam'd with frequent streaks of moving fire."
+
+In his preface to the Storm, "the glens how dark between," is noble
+highland landscape! The "rain ploughing the red mould," too, is
+beautifully fancied. "Ben-lomond's lofty, pathless top," is a good
+expression; and the surrounding view from it is truly great: the
+
+    -----------------"silver mist,
+    Beneath the beaming sun,"
+
+is well described; and here he has contrived to enliven his poem with
+a little of that passion which bids fair, I think, to usurp the modern
+muses altogether. I know not how far this episode is a beauty upon the
+whole, but the swain's wish to carry "some faint idea of the vision
+bright," to entertain her "partial listening ear," is a pretty
+thought. But in my opinion the most beautiful passages in the whole
+poem are the fowls crowding, in wintry frosts, to Lochlomond's
+"hospitable flood;" their wheeling round, their lighting, mixing,
+diving, &c.; and the glorious description of the sportsman. This last
+is equal to anything in the "Seasons." The idea of "the floating tribe
+distant seen, far glistering to the moon," provoking his eye as he is
+obliged to leave them, is a noble ray of poetic genius. "The howling
+winds," the "hideous roar" of the white cascades, are all in the same
+style.
+
+I forget that while I am thus holding forth with the heedless warmth
+of an enthusiast, I am perhaps tiring you with nonsense. I must,
+however, mention that the last verse of the sixteenth page is one of
+the most elegant compliments I have ever seen. I must likewise notice
+that beautiful paragraph beginning, "The gleaming lake," &c. I dare
+not go into the particular beauties of the last two paragraphs, but
+they are admirably fine, and truly Ossianic.
+
+I must beg your pardon for this lengthened scrawl. I had no idea of it
+when I began--I should like to know who the author is; but, whoever he
+be, please present him with my grateful thanks for the entertainment
+he has afforded me.
+
+A friend of mine desired me to commission for him two books, "Letters
+on the Religion essential to Man," a book you sent me before; and "The
+World unmasked, or the Philosopher the greatest Cheat." Send me them
+by the first opportunity. The Bible you sent me is truly elegant; I
+only wish it had been in two volumes.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXXVIII.
+
+
+TO THE EDITOR OF "THE STAR."
+
+[The clergyman who preached the sermon which this letter condemns, was
+a man equally worthy and stern--a divine of Scotland's elder day: he
+received "a harmonious call" to a smaller stipend than that of
+Dunscore--and accepted it.]
+
+_November 8th, 1788._
+
+SIR,
+
+Notwithstanding the opprobrious epithets with which some of our
+philosophers and gloomy sectarians have branded our nature--the
+principle of universal selfishness, the proneness to all evil, they
+have given us; still the detestation in which inhumanity to the
+distressed, or insolence to the fallen, are held by all mankind, shows
+that they are not natives of the human heart. Even the unhappy partner
+of our kind, who is undone, the bitter consequence of his follies or
+his crimes, who but sympathizes with the miseries of this ruined
+profligate brother? We forget the injuries and feel for the man.
+
+I went, last Wednesday, to my parish church, most cordially to join in
+grateful acknowledgment to the AUTHOR OF ALL GOOD, for the
+consequent blessings of the glorious revolution. To that auspicious
+event we owe no less than our liberties, civil and religious; to it we
+are likewise indebted for the present Royal Family, the ruling
+features of whose administration have ever been mildness to the
+subject, and tenderness of his rights.
+
+Bred and educated in revolution principles, the principles of reason
+and common sense, it could not be any silly political prejudice which
+made my heart revolt at the harsh abusive manner in which the reverend
+gentleman mentioned the House of Stewart, and which, I am afraid, was
+too much the language of the day. We may rejoice sufficiently in our
+deliverance from past evils, without cruelly raking up the ashes of
+those whose misfortune it was, perhaps as much as their crime, to be
+the authors of those evils; and we may bless God for all his goodness
+to us as a nation, without at the same time cursing a few ruined,
+powerless exiles, who only harboured ideas, and made attempts, that
+most of us would have done, had we been in their situation.
+
+"The bloody and tyrannical House of Stewart" may be said with
+propriety and justice, when compared with the present royal family,
+and the sentiments of our days; but is there no allowance to be made
+for the manners of the times? Were the royal contemporaries of the
+Stewarts more attentive to their subjects' rights? Might not the
+epithets of "bloody and tyrannical" be, with at least equal justice,
+applied to the House of Tudor, of York, or any other of their
+predecessors?
+
+The simple state of the case, Sir, seems to be this:--At that period,
+the science of government, the knowledge of the true relation between
+king and subject, was, like other sciences and other knowledge, just
+in its infancy, emerging from dark ages of ignorance and barbarity.
+
+The Stewarts only contended for prerogatives which they knew their
+predecessors enjoyed, and which they saw their contemporaries
+enjoying; but these prerogatives were inimical to the happiness of a
+nation and the rights of subjects.
+
+In the contest between prince and people, the consequence of that
+light of science which had lately dawned over Europe, the monarch of
+France, for example, was victorious over the struggling liberties of
+his people: with us, luckily the monarch failed, and his unwarrantable
+pretensions fell a sacrifice to our rights and happiness. Whether it
+was owing to the wisdom of leading individuals, or to the justling
+of parties, I cannot pretend to determine; but likewise happily for
+us, the kingly power was shifted into another branch of the family,
+who, as they owed the throne solely to the call of a free people,
+could claim nothing inconsistent with the covenanted terms which
+placed them there.
+
+The Stewarts have been condemned and laughed at for the folly and
+impracticability of their attempts in 1715 and 1745. That they failed,
+I bless GOD; but cannot join in the ridicule against them.
+Who does not know that the abilities or defects of leaders and
+commanders are often hidden until put to the touchstone of exigency;
+and that there is a caprice of fortune, an omnipotence in particular
+accidents and conjunctures of circumstances, which exalt us as heroes,
+or brand us as madmen, just as they are for or against us?
+
+Man, Mr. Publisher, is a strange, weak, inconsistent being; who would
+believe, Sir, that in this our Augustan age of liberality and
+refinement, while we seem so justly sensible and jealous of our rights
+and liberties, and animated with such indignation against the very
+memory of those who would have subverted them--that a certain people
+under our national protection should complain, not against our monarch
+and a few favorite advisers, but against our WHOLE LEGISLATIVE
+BODY, for similar oppression, and almost in the very same terms,
+as our forefathers did of the house of Stewart! I will not, I cannot
+enter into the merits of the cause; but I dare say the American
+Congress, in 1776, will be allowed to be as able and as enlightened as
+the English Convention was in 1688; and that their posterity will
+celebrate the centenary of their deliverance from us, as duly and
+sincerely as we do ours from the oppressive measures of the
+wrong-headed House of Stewart.
+
+To conclude, Sir; let every man who has a tear for the many miseries
+incident to humanity feel for a family illustrious as any in Europe,
+and unfortunate beyond historic precedent; and let every Briton (and
+particularly every Scotsman) who ever looked with reverential pity on
+the dotage of a parent, cast a veil over the fatal mistakes of the
+kings of his forefathers.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXXXIX.
+
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP,
+
+AT MOREHAM MAINS.
+
+[The heifer presented to the poet by the Dunlops was bought, at the
+sale of Ellisland stock, by Miller of Dalswinton, and long grazed the
+pastures in his "policies" by the name of "Burns."]
+
+_Mauchline_, 13_th November_, 1788.
+
+MADAM,
+
+I had the very great pleasure of dining at Dunlop yesterday. Men are
+said to flatter women because they are weak; if it is so, poets must
+be weaker still; for Misses R. and K. and Miss G. M'K., with their
+flattering attentions, and artful compliments, absolutely turned my
+head. I own they did not lard me over as many a poet does his patron,
+but they so intoxicated me with their sly insinuations and delicate
+inuendos of compliment, that if it had not been for a lucky
+recollection, how much additional weight and lustre your good opinion
+and friendship must give me in that circle, I had certainly looked
+upon myself as a person of no small consequence. I dare not say one
+word how much I was charmed with the Major's friendly welcome, elegant
+manner, and acute remark, lest I should be thought to overbalance my
+orientalisms of applause over-against the finest quey[191] in Ayrshire,
+which he made me a present of to help and adorn my farm-stock. As it
+was on hallow-day, I am determined annually, as that day returns, to
+decorate her horns with an ode of gratitude to the family of Dunlop.
+
+So soon as I know of your arrival at Dunlop, I will take the first
+conveniency to dedicate a day, or perhaps two, to you and friendship,
+under the guarantee of the Major's hospitality. There will soon be
+threescore and ten miles of permanent distance between us; and now
+that your friendship and friendly correspondence is entwisted with the
+heart-strings of my enjoyment of life, I must indulge myself in a
+happy day of "The feast of reason and the flow of soul."
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 191: Heifer.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXL.
+
+
+TO MR. JAMES JOHNSON,
+
+ENGRAVER.
+
+[James Johnson, though not an ungenerous man, meanly refused to give a
+copy of the Musical Museum to Burns, who desired to bestow it on one
+to whom his family was deeply indebted. This was in the last year of
+the poet's life, and after the Museum had been brightened by so much
+of his lyric verse.]
+
+_Mauchline, November 15th, 1788._
+
+MY DEAR SIR,
+
+I have sent you two more songs. If you have got any tunes, or
+anything to correct, please send them by return of the carrier.
+
+I can easily see, my dear friend, that you will very probably have
+four volumes. Perhaps you may not find your account lucratively in
+this business; but you are a patriot for the music of your country;
+and I am certain posterity will look on themselves as highly indebted
+to your public spirit. Be not in a hurry; let us go on correctly, and
+your name shall be immortal.
+
+I am preparing a flaming preface for your third volume. I see every
+day new musical publications advertised; but what are they? Gaudy,
+hunted butterflies of a day, and then vanish for ever: but your work
+will outlive the momentary neglects of idle fashion, and defy the
+teeth of time.
+
+Have you never a fair goddess that leads you a wild-goose chase of
+amorous devotion? Let me know a few of her qualities, such as whether
+she be rather black, or fair; plump, or thin; short, or tall, &c.; and
+choose your air, and I shall task my muse to celebrate her.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXLI.
+
+
+TO DR. BLACKLOCK.
+
+[Blacklock, though blind, was a cheerful and good man. "There was,
+perhaps, never one among all mankind," says Heron, "whom you might
+more truly have called an angel upon earth."]
+
+_Mauchline, November 15th, 1788._
+
+REVEREND AND DEAR SIR,
+
+As I hear nothing of your motions, but that you are, or were, out of
+town, I do not know where this may find you, or whether it will find
+you at all. I wrote you a long letter, dated from the land of
+matrimony, in June; but either it had not found you, or, what I dread
+more, it found you or Mrs. Blacklock in too precarious a state of
+health and spirits to take notice of an idle packet.
+
+I have done many little things for Johnson, since I had the pleasure
+of seeing you; and I have finished one piece, in the way of Pope's
+"Moral Epistles;" but, from your silence, I have everything to fear,
+so I have only sent you two melancholy things, which I tremble lest
+they should too well suit the tone of your present feelings.
+
+In a fortnight I move, bag and baggage, to Nithsdale; till then, my
+direction is at this place; after that period, it will be at
+Ellisland, near Dumfries. It would extremely oblige me, were it but
+half a line, to let me know how you are, and where you are. Can I be
+indifferent to the fate of a man to whom I owe so much? A man whom I
+not only esteem, but venerate.
+
+My warmest good wishes and most respectful compliments to Mrs.
+Blacklock, and Miss Johnston, if she is with you.
+
+I cannot conclude without telling you that I am more and more pleased
+with the step I took respecting "my Jean." Two things, from my happy
+experience, I set down as apothegms in life. A wife's head is
+immaterial, compared with her heart; and--"Virtue's (for wisdom what
+poet pretends to it?) ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths
+are peace."
+
+Adieu!
+
+R. B.
+
+[Here follow "The Mother's Lament for the Loss of her Son," and the
+song beginning "The lazy mist hangs from the brow of the hill."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXLII.
+
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP.
+
+[The "Auld lang syne," which Burns here introduces to Mrs. Dunlop as a
+strain of the olden time, is as surely his own as Tam-o-Shanter.]
+
+_Ellisland, 17th December, 1788._
+
+MY DEAR HONOURED FRIEND,
+
+Yours, dated Edinburgh, which I have just read, makes me very unhappy.
+"Almost blind and wholly deaf," are melancholy news of human nature;
+but when told of a much-loved and honoured friend, they carry misery
+in the sound. Goodness on your part, and gratitude on mine, began a
+tie which has gradually entwisted itself among the dearest chords of
+my bosom, and I tremble at the omens of your late and present ailing
+habit and shattered health. You miscalculate matters widely, when you
+forbid my waiting on you, lest it should hurt my worldly concerns. My
+small scale of farming is exceedingly more simple and easy than what
+you have lately seen at Moreham Mains. But, be that as it may, the
+heart of the man and the fancy of the poet are the two grand
+considerations for which I live: if miry ridges and dirty dunghills
+are to engross the best part of the functions of my soul immortal, I
+had better been a rook or a magpie at once, and then I should not
+have been plagued with any ideas superior to breaking of clods and
+picking up grubs; not to mention barn-door cocks or mallards,
+creatures with which I could almost exchange lives at any time. If you
+continue so deaf, I am afraid a visit will be no great pleasure to
+either of us; but if I hear you are got so well again as to be able to
+relish conversation, look you to it, Madam, for I will make my
+threatenings good. I am to be at the New-year-day fair of Ayr; and, by
+all that is sacred in the world, friend, I will come and see you.
+
+Your meeting, which you so well describe, with your old schoolfellow
+and friend, was truly interesting. Out upon the ways of the
+world!--They spoil "these social offsprings of the heart." Two
+veterans of the "men of the world" would have met with little more
+heart-workings than two old hacks worn out on the road. Apropos, is
+not the Scotch phrase, "Auld lang syne," exceedingly expressive? There
+is an old song and tune which has often thrilled through my soul. You
+know I am an enthusiast in old Scotch songs. I shall give you the
+verses on the other sheet, as I suppose Mr. Ker will save you the
+postage.
+
+    "Should auld acquaintance be forgot!"[192]
+
+Light be the turf on the breast of the heaven-inspired poet who
+composed this glorious fragment. There is more of the fire of native
+genius in it than in half-a-dozen of modern English Bacchanalians! Now
+I am on my hobby-horse, I cannot help inserting two other old stanzas,
+which please me mightily:--
+
+    "Go fetch to me a pint of wine."[193]
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 192: See Song CCX.]
+
+[Footnote 193: See Song LXXII.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXLIII.
+
+
+TO MISS DAVIES.
+
+[The Laird of Glenriddel informed "the charming, lovely Davies" that
+Burns was composing a song in her praise. The poet acted on this, and
+sent the song, enclosed in this characteristic letter.]
+
+_December, 1788._
+
+MADAM,
+
+I understand my very worthy neighbour, Mr. Riddel, has informed you
+that I have made you the subject of some verses. There is something
+so provoking in the idea of being the burthen of a ballad, that I do
+not think Job or Moses, though such patterns of patience and meekness,
+could have resisted the curiosity to know what that ballad was: so my
+worthy friend has done me a mischief, which I dare say he never
+intended; and reduced me to the unfortunate alternative of leaving
+your curiosity ungratified, or else disgusting you with foolish
+verses, the unfinished production of a random moment, and never meant
+to have met your ear. I have heard or read somewhere of a gentleman
+who had some genius, much eccentricity, and very considerable
+dexterity with his pencil. In the accidental group of life into which
+one is thrown, wherever this gentleman met with a character in a more
+than ordinary degree congenial to his heart, he used to steal a sketch
+of the face, merely, he said, as a _nota bene_, to point out the
+agreeable recollection to his memory. What this gentleman's pencil was
+to him, my muse is to me; and the verses I do myself the honour to
+send you are a _memento_ exactly of the same kind that he indulged in.
+
+It may be more owing to the fastidiousness of my caprice than the
+delicacy of my taste; but I am so often tired, disgusted and hurt with
+insipidity, affectation, and pride of mankind, that when I meet with a
+person "after my own heart," I positively feel what an orthodox
+Protestant would call a species of idolatry, which acts on my fancy
+like inspiration; and I can no more desist rhyming on the impulse,
+than an AEolian harp can refuse its tones to the streaming air. A
+distich or two would be the consequence, though the object which hit
+my fancy were gray-bearded-age; but where my theme is youth and
+beauty, a young lady whose personal charms, wit, and sentiment are
+equally striking and unaffected--by heavens! though I had lived three
+score years a married man, and three score years before I was a
+married man, my imagination would hallow the very idea: and I am truly
+sorry that the inclosed stanzas have done such poor justice to such a
+subject.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXLIV.
+
+
+TO MR. JOHN TENNANT.
+
+[The mill of John Currie stood on a small stream which fed the loch of
+Friar's Carse--near the house of the dame of whom he sang, "Sic a wife
+as Willie had."]
+
+_December 22, 1788._
+
+I yesterday tried my cask of whiskey for the first time, and I assure
+you it does you great credit. It will bear five waters strong; or six
+ordinary toddy. The whiskey of this country is a most rascally liquor;
+and, by consequence, only drank by the most rascally part of the
+inhabitants. I am persuaded, if you once get a footing here, you might
+do a great deal of business, in the way of consumpt; and should you
+commence distiller again, this is the native barley country. I am
+ignorant if, in your present way of dealing, you would think it worth
+your while to extend your business so far as this country side. I
+write you this on the account of an accident, which I must take the
+merit of having partly designed to. A neighbour of mine, a John
+Currie, miller in Carsemill--a man who is, in a word, a "very" good
+man, even for a L500 bargain--he and his wife were in my house the
+time I broke open the cask. They keep a country public-house and sell
+a great deal of foreign spirits, but all along thought that whiskey
+would have degraded this house. They were perfectly astonished at my
+whiskey, both for its taste and strength; and, by their desire, I
+write you to know if you could supply them with liquor of an equal
+quality, and what price. Please write me by first post, and direct to
+me at Ellisland, near Dumfries. If you could take a jaunt this way
+yourself, I have a spare spoon, knife and fork very much at your
+service. My compliments to Mrs. Tennant, and all the good folks in
+Glenconnel and Barquharrie.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXLV.
+
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP.
+
+[The feeling mood of moral reflection exhibited in the following
+letter, was common to the house of William Burns: in a letter
+addressed by Gilbert to Robert of this date, the poet is reminded of
+the early vicissitudes of their name, and desired to look up, and be
+thankful.]
+
+_Ellisland, New-year-day Morning, 1789._
+
+This, dear Madam, is a morning of wishes, and would to God that I came
+under the apostle James's description!--_the prayer of a righteous man
+availeth much._ In that case, Madam, you should welcome in a year full
+of blessings: everything that obstructs or disturbs tranquillity and
+self-enjoyment, should be removed, and every pleasure that frail
+humanity can taste, should be yours. I own myself so little a
+Presbyterian, that I approve of set times and seasons of more than
+ordinary acts of devotion, for breaking in on that habitual routine of
+life and thought, which is so apt to reduce our existence to a kind of
+instinct, or even sometimes, and with some minds, to a state very
+little superior to mere machinery.
+
+This day, the first Sunday of May, a breezy, blue-skyed noon some time
+about the beginning, and a hoary morning and calm sunny day about the
+end, of autumn; these, time out of mind, have been with me a kind of
+holiday.
+
+I believe I owe this to that glorious paper in the Spectator, "The
+Vision of Mirza," a piece that struck my young fancy before I was
+capable of fixing an idea to a word of three syllables: "On the 6th
+day of the moon, which, according to the custom of my forefathers, I
+always _keep holy_, after washing myself, and offering up my morning
+devotions, I ascended the high hill of Bagdat, in order to pass the
+rest of the day in meditation and prayer."
+
+We know nothing, or next to nothing, of the substance or structure of
+our souls, so cannot account for those seeming caprices in them, that
+one should be particularly pleased with this thing, or struck with
+that, which, on minds of a different cast, makes no extraordinary
+impression. I have some favourite flowers in spring, among which are
+the mountain-daisy, the hare-bell, the fox-glove, the wild
+brier-rose, the budding birch, and the hoary hawthorn, that I view and
+hang over with particular delight. I never hear the loud solitary
+whistle of the curlew in a summer noon, or the wild mixing cadence of
+a troop of grey plovers, in an autumnal morning, without feeling an
+elevation of soul like the enthusiasm of devotion or poetry. Tell me,
+my dear friend, to what can this be owing? Are we a piece of
+machinery, which, like the AEolian harp, passive, takes the impression
+of the passing accident? Or do these workings argue something within
+us above the trodden clod? I own myself partial to such proofs of
+those awful and important realities--a God that made all things--man's
+immaterial and immortal nature--and a world of weal or woe beyond
+death and the grave.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXLVI.
+
+
+TO DR. MOORE.
+
+[The poet seems, in this letter, to perceive that Ellisland was not
+the bargain he had reckoned it: he intimated, as the reader will
+remember, something of the same kind to Margaret Chalmers.]
+
+_Ellisland, 4th Jan. 1789._
+
+SIR,
+
+As often as I think of writing to you, which has been three or four
+times every week these six months, it gives me something so like the
+idea of an ordinary-sized statue offering at a conversation with the
+Rhodian colossus, that my mind misgives me, and the affair always
+miscarries somewhere between purpose and resolve. I have at last got
+some business with you, and business letters are written by the
+stylebook. I say my business is with you, Sir, for you never had any
+with me, except the business that benevolence has in the mansion of
+poverty.
+
+The character and employment of a poet were formerly my pleasure, but
+are now my pride. I know that a very great deal of my late eclat was
+owing to the singularity of my situation, and the honest prejudice of
+Scotsmen; but still, as I said in the preface to my first edition, I
+do look upon myself as having some pretensions from Nature to the
+poetic character. I have not a doubt but the knack, the aptitude, to
+learn the muses' trade, is a gift bestowed by him "who forms the
+secret bias of the soul;"--but I as firmly believe, that _excellence_
+in the profession is the fruit of industry, labour, attention, and
+pains. At least I am resolved to try my doctrine by the test of
+experience. Another appearance from the press I put off to a very
+distant day, a day that may never arrive--but poesy I am determined to
+prosecute with all my vigour. Nature has given very few, if any, of
+the profession, the talents of shining in every species of
+composition. I shall try (for until trial it is impossible to know)
+whether she has qualified me to shine in any one. The worst of it is,
+by the time one has finished a piece, it has been so often viewed and
+reviewed before the mental eye, that one loses, in a good measure, the
+powers of critical discrimination. Here the best criterion I know is a
+friend--not only of abilities to judge, but with good-nature enough,
+like a prudent teacher with a young learner, to praise perhaps a
+little more than is exactly just, lest the thin-skinned animal fall
+into that most deplorable of all poetic diseases--heart-breaking
+despondency of himself. Dare I, Sir, already immensely indebted to
+your goodness, ask the additional obligation of your being that friend
+to me? I enclose you an essay of mine in a walk of poesy to me
+entirely new; I mean the epistle addressed to R. G. Esq. or Robert
+Graham of Fintray, Esq., a gentleman of uncommon worth, to whom I lie
+under very great obligations. The story of the poem, like most of my
+poems, is connected with my own story, and to give you the one, I must
+give you something of the other. I cannot boast of Mr. Creech's
+ingenuous fair dealing to me. He kept me hanging about Edinburgh from
+the 7th August, 1787, until the 13th April, 1788, before he would
+condescend to give me a statement of affairs; nor had I got it even
+then, but for an angry letter I wrote him, which irritated his pride.
+"I could" not a "tale" but a detail "unfold," but what am I that
+should speak against the Lord's anointed Bailie of Edinburgh?
+
+I believe I shall in the whole, 100_l._ copyright included, clear
+about 400_l._ some little odds; and even part of this depends upon
+what the gentleman has yet to settle with me. I give you this
+information, because you did me the honour to interest yourself much
+in my welfare. I give you this information, but I give it to yourself
+only, for I am still much in the gentleman's mercy. Perhaps I injure
+the man in the idea I am sometimes tempted to have of him--God forbid
+I should! A little time will try, for in a month I shall go to town to
+wind up the business if possible.
+
+To give the rest of my story in brief, I have married "my Jean," and
+taken a farm: with the first step I have every day more and more
+reason to be satisfied: with the last, it is rather the reverse. I
+have a younger brother, who supports my aged mother; another still
+younger brother, and three sisters, in a farm. On my last return from
+Edinburgh, it cost me about 180l. to save them from ruin. Not that I
+have lost so much.--I only interposed between my brother and his
+impending fate by the loan of so much. I give myself no airs on this,
+for it was mere selfishness on my part: I was conscious that the wrong
+scale of the balance was pretty heavily charged, and I thought that
+throwing a little filial piety and fraternal affection into the scale
+in my favour, might help to smooth matters at the _grand reckoning._
+There is still one thing would make my circumstances quite easy: I
+have an excise officer's commission, and I live in the midst of a
+country division. My request to Mr. Graham, who is one of the
+commissioners of excise, was, if in his power, to procure me that
+division. If I were very sanguine, I might hope that some of my great
+patrons might procure me a Treasury warrant for supervisor,
+surveyor-general, &c.
+
+Thus, secure of a livelihood, "to thee, sweet poetry, delightful
+maid," I would consecrate my future days.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXLVII.
+
+
+TO MR. ROBERT AINSLIE.
+
+[The song which the poet says he brushed up a little is nowhere
+mentioned: he wrote one hundred, and brushed up more, for the Museum
+of Johnson.]
+
+_Ellisland, Jan. 6, 1789._
+
+Many happy returns of the season to you, my dear Sir! May you be
+comparatively happy up to your comparative worth among the sons of
+men; which wish would, I am sure, make you one of the most blest of
+the human race.
+
+I do not know if passing a "Writer to the signet," be a trial of
+scientific merit, or a mere business of friends and interest. However
+it be, let me quote you my two favourite passages, which, though I
+have repeated them ten thousand times, still they rouse my manhood and
+steel my resolution like inspiration.
+
+    ------------------"On reason build resolve,
+    That column of true majesty in man."
+
+YOUNG. NIGHT THOUGHTS.
+
+    "Hear, Alfred, hero of the state,
+    Thy genius heaven's high will declare;
+    The triumph of the truly great,
+    Is never, never to despair!
+    Is never to despair!"
+
+THOMSON. MASQUE OF ALFRED.
+
+I grant you enter the lists of life, to struggle for bread, business,
+notice, and distinction, in common with hundreds.--But who are they?
+Men, like yourself, and of that aggregate body your compeers,
+seven-tenths of them come short of your advantages natural and
+accidental; while two of those that remain, either neglect their
+parts, as flowers blooming in a desert, or mis-spend their strength,
+like a bull goring a bramble-bush.
+
+But to change the theme: I am still catering for Johnson's
+publication; and among others, I have brushed up the following old
+favourite song a little, with a view to your worship. I have only
+altered a word here and there; but if you like the humour of it, we
+shall think of a stanza or two to add to it.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXLVIII.
+
+
+TO PROFESSOR DUGALD STEWART.
+
+[The iron justice to which the poet alludes, in this letter, was
+exercised by Dr. Gregory, on the poem of the "Wounded Hare."]
+
+_Ellisland, 20th Jan, 1789._
+
+SIR,
+
+The enclosed sealed packet I sent to Edinburgh, a few days after I had
+the happiness of meeting you in Ayrshire, but you were gone for the
+Continent. I have now added a few more of my productions, those for
+which I am indebted to the Nithsdale muses. The piece inscribed to R.
+G. Esq., is a copy of verses I sent Mr. Graham, of Fintray,
+accompanying a request for his assistance in a matter to me of very
+great moment. To that gentleman I am already doubly indebted, for
+deeds of kindness of serious import to my dearest interests, done in a
+manner grateful to the delicate feelings of sensibility. This poem is
+a species of composition new to me, but I do not intend it shall be my
+last essay of the kind, as you will see by the "Poet's Progress."
+These fragments, if my design succeed, are but a small part of the
+intended whole. I propose it shall be the work of my utmost exertions,
+ripened by years; of course I do not wish it much known. The fragment
+beginning "A little, upright, pert, tart, &c.," I have not shown to
+man living, till I now send it you. It forms the postulata, the
+axioms, the definition of a character, which, if it appear at all,
+shall be placed in a variety of lights. This particular part I send
+you merely as a sample of my hand at portrait-sketching, but, lest
+idle conjecture should pretend to point out the original, please to
+let it be for your single, sole inspection.
+
+Need I make any apology for this trouble, to a gentleman who has
+treated me with such marked benevolence and peculiar kindness--who has
+entered into my interests with so much zeal, and on whose critical
+decisions I can so fully depend? A poet as I am by trade, these
+decisions are to me of the last consequence. My late transient
+acquaintance among some of the mere rank and file of greatness, I
+resign with ease; but to the distinguished champions of genius and
+learning, I shall be ever ambitious of being known. The native genius
+and accurate discernment in Mr. Stewart's critical strictures; the
+justness (iron justice, for he has no bowels of compassion for a poor
+poetic sinner) of Dr. Gregory's remarks, and the delicacy of
+Professor Dalzel's taste, I shall ever revere.
+
+I shall be in Edinburgh some time next month.
+
+I have the honour to be, Sir,
+
+Your highly obliged, and very
+
+Humble servant,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXLIX.
+
+
+TO BISHOP GEDDES.
+
+[Alexander Geddes was a controversialist and poet, and a bishop of the
+broken remnant of the Catholic Church of Scotland: he is known as the
+author of a very humorous ballad called "The Wee bit Wifickie," and as
+the translator of one of the books of the Iliad, in opposition to
+Cowper.]
+
+_Ellisland, 3d Feb. 1789._
+
+VENERABLE FATHER,
+
+As I am conscious that wherever I am, you do me the honour to interest
+yourself in my welfare, it gives me pleasure to inform you that I am
+here at last, stationary in the serious business of life, and have now
+not only the retired leisure, but the hearty inclination, to attend to
+those great and important questions--what I am? where I am? and for
+what I am destined?
+
+In that first concern, the conduct of the man, there was ever but one
+side on which I was habitually blameable, and there I have secured
+myself in the way pointed out by Nature and Nature's God. I was
+sensible that to so helpless a creature as a poor poet, a wife and
+family were encumbrances, which a species of prudence would bid him
+shun; but when the alternative was, being at eternal warfare with
+myself, on account of habitual follies, to give them no worse name,
+which no general example, no licentious wit, no sophistical
+infidelity, would, to me, ever justify, I must have been a fool to
+have hesitated, and a madman to have made another choice. Besides, I
+had in "my Jean" a long and much-loved fellow-creature's happiness or
+misery among my hands, and who could trifle with such a deposit?
+
+In the affair of a livelihood, I think myself tolerably secure: I have
+good hopes of my farm, but should they fail, I have an excise
+commission, which on my simple petition, will, at any time, procure me
+bread. There is a certain stigma affixed to the character of an Excise
+officer, but I do not pretend to borrow honour from my profession; and
+though the salary be comparatively small, it is luxury to anything
+that the first twenty-five years of my life taught me to expect.
+
+Thus, with a rational aim and method in life, you may easily guess, my
+reverend and much-honoured friend, that my characteristical trade is
+not forgotten. I am, if possible, more than over an enthusiast to the
+muses. I am determined to study man and nature, and in that view
+incessantly; and to try if the ripening and corrections of years can
+enable me to produce something worth preserving.
+
+You will see in your book, which I beg your pardon for detaining so
+long, that I have been tuning my lyre on the banks of Nith. Some large
+poetic plans that are floating in my imagination, or partly put in
+execution, I shall impart to you when I have the pleasure of meeting
+with you; which, if you are then in Edinburgh, I shall have about the
+beginning of March.
+
+That acquaintance, worthy Sir, with which you were pleased to honour
+me, you must still allow me to challenge; for with whatever unconcern
+I give up my transient connexion with the merely great, those
+self-important beings whose intrinsic * * * * [con]cealed under the
+accidental advantages of their * * * * I cannot lose the patronizing
+notice of the learned and good, without the bitterest regret.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CL.
+
+
+TO MR. JAMES BURNESS.
+
+[Fanny Burns married Adam Armour, brother to bonnie Jean, went with
+him to Mauchline, and bore him sons and daughters.]
+
+_Ellisland, 9th Feb. 1789._
+
+MY DEAR SIR,
+
+Why I did not write to you long ago, is what, even on the rack, I
+could not answer. If you can in your mind form an idea of indolence,
+dissipation, hurry, cares, change of country, entering on untried
+scenes of life, all combined, you will save me the trouble of a
+blushing apology. It could not be want of regard for a man for whom I
+had a high esteem before I knew him--an esteem which has much
+increased since I did know him; and this caveat entered, I shall plead
+guilty to any other indictment with which you shall please to charge
+me.
+
+After I had parted from you for many months my life was one continued
+scene of dissipation. Here at last I am become stationary, and have
+taken a farm and--a wife.
+
+The farm is beautifully situated on the Nith, a large river that runs
+by Dumfries, and falls into the Solway frith. I have gotten a lease of
+my farm as long as I pleased: but how it may turn out is just a guess,
+it is yet to improve and enclose, &c.; however, I have good hopes of
+my bargain on the whole.
+
+My wife is my Jean, with whose story you are partly acquainted. I
+found I had a much-loved fellow creature's happiness or misery among
+my hands, and I durst not trifle with so sacred a deposit. Indeed I
+have not any reason to repent the step I have taken, as I have
+attached myself to a very good wife, and have shaken myself loose of
+every bad failing.
+
+I have found my book a very profitable business, and with the profits
+of it I have begun life pretty decently. Should fortune not favour me
+in farming, as I have no great faith in her fickle ladyship, I have
+provided myself in another resource, which however some folks may
+affect to despise it, is still a comfortable shift in the day of
+misfortune. In the heyday of my fame, a gentleman whose name at least
+I dare say you know, as his estate lies somewhere near Dundee, Mr.
+Graham, of Fintray, one of the commissioners of Excise, offered me the
+commission of an Excise officer. I thought it prudent to accept the
+offer; and accordingly I took my instructions, and have my commission
+by me. Whether I may ever do duty, or be a penny the better for it, is
+what I do not know; but I have the comfortable assurance, that come
+whatever ill fate will, I can, on my simple petition to the
+Excise-board, get into employ.
+
+We have lost poor uncle Robert this winter. He has long been very
+weak, and with very little alteration on him, he expired 3d Jan.
+
+His son William has been with me this winter, and goes in May to be an
+apprentice to a mason. His other son, the eldest, John, comes to me I
+expect in summer. They are both remarkably stout young fellows, and
+promise to do well. His only daughter, Fanny, has been with me ever
+since her father's death, and I purpose keeping her in my family till
+she be quite woman grown, and fit for service. She is one of the
+cleverest girls, and has one of the most amiable dispositions I have
+ever seen.
+
+All friends in this country and Ayrshire are well. Remember me to all
+friends in the north. My wife joins me in compliments to Mrs. B. and
+family.
+
+I am ever, my dear Cousin,
+
+Yours, sincerely,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLI.
+
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP.
+
+[The beautiful lines with which this letter concludes, I have reason
+to believe were the production of the lady to whom the epistle is
+addressed.]
+
+_Ellisland, 4th March, 1789._
+
+Here am I, my honoured friend, returned safe from the capital. To a
+man, who has a home, however humble or remote--if that home is like
+mine, the scene of domestic comfort--the bustle of Edinburgh will soon
+be a business of sickening disgust.
+
+    "Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate you!"
+
+When I must skulk into a corner, lest the rattling equipage of some
+gaping blockhead should mangle me in the mire, I am tempted to
+exclaim--"What merits has he had, or what demerit have I had, in some
+state of pre-existence, that he is ushered into this state of being
+with the sceptre of rule, and the key of riches in his puny fist, and
+I am kicked into the world, the sport of folly, or the victim of
+pride?" I have read somewhere of a monarch (in Spain I think it was),
+who was so out of humour with the Ptolemean system of astronomy, that
+he said had he been of the CREATOR'S council, he could have
+saved him a great deal of labour and absurdity. I will not defend this
+blasphemous speech; but often, as I have glided with humble stealth
+through the pomp of Princes' street, it has suggested itself to me, as
+an improvement on the present human figure, that a man in proportion
+to his own conceit of his consequence in the world, could have pushed
+out the longitude of his common size, as a snail pushes out his horns,
+or, as we draw out a perspective. This trifling alteration, not to
+mention the prodigious saving it would be in the tear and wear of the
+neck and limb-sinews of many of his majesty's liege subjects, in the
+way of tossing the head and tiptoe strutting, would evidently turn out
+a vast advantage, in enabling us at once to adjust the ceremonials in
+making a bow, or making way to a great man, and that too within a
+second of the precise spherical angle of reverence, or an inch of the
+particular point of respectful distance, which the important creature
+itself requires; as a measuring-glance at its towering altitude, would
+determine the affair like instinct.
+
+You are right, Madam, in your idea of poor Mylne's poem, which he has
+addressed to me. The piece has a good deal of merit, but it has one
+great fault--it is, by far, too long. Besides, my success has
+encouraged such a shoal of ill-spawned monsters to crawl into public
+notice, under the title of Scottish Poets, that the very term Scottish
+Poetry borders on the burlesque. When I write to Mr. Carfrae, I shall
+advise him rather to try one of his deceased friend's English pieces.
+I am prodigiously hurried with my own matters, else I would have
+requested a perusal of all Mylne's poetic performances; and would have
+offered his friends my assistance in either selecting or correcting
+what would be proper for the press. What it is that occupies me so
+much, and perhaps a little oppresses my present spirits, shall fill up
+a paragraph in some future letter. In the mean time, allow me to close
+this epistle with a few lines done by a friend of mine * * * * *. I give
+you them, that as you have seen the original, you may guess whether
+one or two alterations I have ventured to make in them, be any real
+improvement.
+
+    "Like the fair plant that from our touch withdraws,
+    Shrink, mildly fearful, even from applause,
+    Be all a mother's fondest hope can dream,
+    And all you are, my charming ..., seem.
+    Straight as the fox-glove, ere her bells disclose,
+    Mild as the maiden-blushing hawthorn blows,
+    Fair as the fairest of each lovely kind,
+    Your form shall be the image of your mind;
+    Your manners shall so true your soul express,
+    That all shall long to know the worth they guess:
+    Congenial hearts shall greet with kindred love,
+    And even sick'ning envy must approve."
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLII.
+
+
+TO THE REV. PETER CARFRAE.
+
+[Mylne was a worthy and a modest man: he died of an inflammatory fever
+in the prime of life.]
+
+1789.
+
+REV. SIR,
+
+I do not recollect that I have ever felt a severer pang of shame, than
+on looking at the date of your obliging letter which accompanied Mr.
+Mylne's poem.
+
+I am much to blame: the honour Mr. Mylne has done me, greatly enhanced
+in its value by the endearing, though melancholy circumstance, of its
+being the last production of his muse, deserved a better return.
+
+I have, as you hint, thought of sending a copy of the poem to some
+periodical publication; but, on second thoughts, I am afraid, that in
+the present case, it would be an improper step. My success, perhaps as
+much accidental as merited, has brought an inundation of nonsense
+under the name of Scottish poetry. Subscription-bills for Scottish
+poems have so dunned, and daily do dun the public, that the very name
+is in danger of contempt. For these reasons, if publishing any of Mr.
+Mylne's poems in a magazine, &c., be at all prudent, in my opinion it
+certainly should not be a Scottish poem. The profits of the labours of
+a man of genius are, I hope, as honourable as any profits whatever;
+and Mr. Mylne's relations are most justly entitled to that honest
+harvest, which fate has denied himself to reap. But let the friends of
+Mr. Mylne's fame (among whom I crave the honour of ranking myself)
+always keep in eye his respectability as a man and as a poet, and take
+no measure that, before the world knows anything about him, would risk
+his name and character being classed with the fools of the times.
+
+I have, Sir, some experience of publishing; and the way in which I
+would proceed with Mr. Mylne's poem is this:--I would publish, in two
+or three English and Scottish public papers, any one of his English
+poems which should, by private judges, be thought the most excellent,
+and mention it, at the same time, as one of the productions of a
+Lothian farmer, of respectable character, lately deceased, whose poems
+his friends had it in idea to publish, soon, by subscription, for the
+sake of his numerous family:--not in pity to that family, but in
+justice to what his friends think the poetic merits of the deceased;
+and to secure, in the most effectual manner, to those tender
+connexions, whose right it is, the pecuniary reward of those merits.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLIII.
+
+
+TO DR. MOORE.
+
+[Edward Nielson, whom Burns here introduces to Dr. Moore, was minister
+of Kirkbean, on the Solway-side. He was a jovial man, and loved good
+cheer, and merry company.]
+
+_Ellisland, 23d March, 1789._
+
+SIR,
+
+The gentleman who will deliver you this is a Mr. Nielson, a worthy
+clergyman in my neighbourhood, and a very particular acquaintance of
+mine. As I have troubled him with this packet, I must turn him over to
+your goodness, to recompense him for it in a way in which he much
+needs your assistance, and where you can effectually serve him:--Mr.
+Nielson is on his way for France, to wait on his Grace of Queensberry,
+on some little business of a good deal of importance to him, and he
+wishes for your instructions respecting the most eligible mode of
+travelling, &c., for him, when he has crossed the channel. I should
+not have dared to take this liberty with you, but that I am told, by
+those who have the honour of your personal acquaintance, that to be a
+poor honest Scotchman is a letter of recommendation to you, and that
+to have it in your power to serve such a character, gives you much
+pleasure.
+
+The enclosed ode is a compliment to the memory of the late Mrs.
+Oswald, of Auchencruive. You, probably, knew her personally, an honour
+of which I cannot boast; but I spent my early years in her
+neighbourhood, and among her servants and tenants. I know that she was
+detested with the most heart-felt cordiality. However, in the
+particular part of her conduct which roused my poetic wrath, she was
+much less blameable. In January last, on my road to Ayrshire, I had
+put up at Bailie Wigham's in Sanquhar, the only tolerable inn in the
+place. The frost was keen, and the grim evening and howling wind were
+ushering in a night of snow and drift. My horse and I were both much
+fatigued with the labours of the day, and just as my friend the Bailie
+and I were bidding defiance to the storm, over a smoking bowl, in
+wheels the funeral pageantry of the late great Mrs. Oswald, and poor I
+am forced to brave all the horrors of the tempestuous night, and jade
+my horse, my young favourite horse, whom I had just christened
+Pegasus, twelve miles farther on, through the wildest moors and hills
+of Ayrshire, to New Cumnock, the next inn. The powers of poesy and
+prose sink under me, when I would describe what I felt. Suffice it to
+say, that when a good fire at New Cumnock had so far recovered my
+frozen sinews, I sat down and wrote the enclosed ode.
+
+I was at Edinburgh lately, and settled finally with Mr. Creech; and I
+must own, that, at last, he has been amicable and fair with me.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLIV.
+
+
+TO MR. WILLIAM BURNS.
+
+[William Burns was the youngest brother of the poet: he was bred a
+sadler; went to Longtown, and finally to London, where he died early.]
+
+_Isle, March 25th, 1789._
+
+I have stolen from my corn-sowing this minute to write a line to
+accompany your shirt and hat, for I can no more. Your sister Maria
+arrived yesternight, and begs to be remembered to you. Write me every
+opportunity, never mind postage. My head, too, is as addle as an egg,
+this morning, with dining abroad yesterday. I received yours by the
+mason. Forgive me this foolish-looking scrawl of an epistle.
+
+I am ever,
+
+My dear William,
+
+Yours,
+
+R. B.
+
+P.S. If you are not then gone from Longtown, I'll write you a long
+letter, by this day se'ennight. If you should not succeed in your
+tramps, don't be dejected, or take any rash step--return to us in that
+case, and we will court fortune's better humour. Remember this, I
+charge you.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLV.
+
+
+TO MR. HILL.
+
+[The Monkland Book Club existed only while Robert Riddel, of the
+Friars-Carse, lived, or Burns had leisure to attend: such
+institutions, when well conducted, are very beneficial, when not
+oppressed by divinity and verse, as they sometimes are.]
+
+_Ellisland, 2d April, 1789._
+
+I will make no excuse, my dear Bibliopolus (God forgive me for
+murdering language!) that I have sat down to write you on this vile
+paper.
+
+It is economy, Sir; it is that cardinal virtue, prudence: so I beg you
+will sit down, and either compose or borrow a panegyric. If you are
+going to borrow, apply to * * * * to compose, or rather to compound,
+something very clever on my remarkable frugality; that I write to one
+of my most esteemed friends on this wretched paper, which was
+originally intended for the venal fist of some drunken exciseman, to
+take dirty notes in a miserable vault of an ale-cellar.
+
+O Frugality! thou mother of ten thousand blessings--thou cook of fat
+beef and dainty greens!--thou manufacturer of warm Shetland hose, and
+comfortable surtouts!--thou old housewife darning thy decayed
+stockings with thy ancient spectacles on thy aged nose!--lead me, hand
+me in thy clutching palsied fist, up those heights, and through those
+thickets, hitherto inaccessible, and impervious to my anxious, weary
+feet:--not those Parnassian crags, bleak and barren, where the hungry
+worshippers of fame are breathless, clambering, hanging between heaven
+and hell; but those glittering cliffs of Potosi, where the
+all-sufficient, all powerful deity, Wealth, holds his immediate court
+of joys and pleasures; where the sunny exposure of plenty, and the hot
+walls of profusion, produce those blissful fruits of luxury, exotics
+in this world, and natives of paradise!--Thou withered sibyl, my sage
+conductress, usher me into thy refulgent, adored presence!--The power,
+splendid and potent as he now is, was once the puling nursling of thy
+faithful care, and tender arms! Call me thy son, thy cousin, thy
+kinsman, or favourite, and adjure the god by the scenes of his infant
+years, no longer to repulse me as a stranger, or an alien, but to
+favour me with his peculiar countenance and protection?--He daily
+bestows his greatest kindness on the undeserving and the
+worthless--assure him, that I bring ample documents of meritorious
+demerits! Pledge yourself for me, that, for the glorious cause of
+Lucre, I will do anything, be anything--but the horse-leech of private
+oppression, or the vulture of public robbery!
+
+But to descend from heroics.
+
+I want a Shakspeare; I want likewise an English dictionary--Johnson's,
+I suppose, is best. In these and all my prose commissions, the
+cheapest is always best for me. There is a small debt of honour that I
+owe Mr. Robert Cleghorn, in Saughton Mills, my worthy friend, and your
+well-wisher. Please give him, and urge him to take it, the first time
+you see him, ten shillings worth of anything you have to sell, and
+place it to my account.
+
+The library scheme that I mentioned to you, is already begun, under
+the direction of Captain Riddel. There is another in emulation of it
+going on at Closeburn, under the auspices of Mr. Monteith, of
+Closeburn, which will be on a greater scale than ours. Capt. Riddel
+gave his infant society a great many of his old books, else I had
+written you on that subject; but one of these days, I shall trouble
+you with a commission for "The Monkland Friendly Society"--a copy of
+_The Spectator_, _Mirror_, and _Lounger_, _Man of Feeling, Man of the
+World_, _Guthrie's Geographical Grammar_, with some religious pieces,
+will likely be our first order.
+
+When I grow richer, I will write to you on gilt post, to make amends
+for this sheet. At present, every guinea has a five guinea errand
+with,
+
+My dear Sir,
+
+Your faithful, poor, but honest, friend,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLVI.
+
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP
+
+[Some lines which extend, but fail to finish the sketch contained in
+this letter, will be found elsewhere in this publication.]
+
+_Ellisland, 4th April, 1789._
+
+I no sooner hit on any poetic plan or fancy, but I wish to send it to
+you: and if knowing and reading these give half the pleasure to you,
+that communicating them to you gives to me, I am satisfied.
+
+I have a poetic whim in my head, which I at present dedicate, or
+rather inscribe to the Right Hon. Charles James Fox; but how long that
+fancy may hold, I cannot say. A few of the first lines, I have just
+rough-sketched as follows:
+
+SKETCH.
+
+    How wisdom and folly meet, mix, and unite;
+    How virtue and vice blend their black and their white;
+    How genius, the illustrious father of fiction,
+    Confounds rule and law, reconciles contradiction--
+    I sing: If these mortals, the critics, should bustle,
+    I care not, not I, let the critics go whistle.
+
+      But now for a patron, whose name and whose glory,
+    At once may illustrate and honour my story.
+
+      Thou first of our orators, first of our wits;
+    Yet whose parts and acquirements seem mere lucky hits;
+    With knowledge so vast, and with judgment so strong,
+    No man with the half of 'em e'er went far wrong;
+    With passion so potent, and fancies so bright,
+    No man with the half of 'em ere went quite right;
+    A sorry, poor misbegot son of the muses,
+    For using thy name offers many excuses.
+
+On the 20th current I hope to have the honour of assuring you in
+person, how sincerely I am--
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLVII.
+
+
+TO MR. WILLIAM BURNS,
+
+SADLER,
+
+CARE OF MR. WRIGHT, CARRIER, LONGTOWN.
+
+["Never to despair" was a favourite saying with Burns: and "firm
+resolve," he held, with Young, to be "the column of true majesty in
+man."]
+
+_Isle, 15th April, 1789._
+
+MY DEAR WILLIAM,
+
+I am extremely sorry at the misfortune of your legs; I beg you will
+never let any worldly concern interfere with the more serious matter,
+the safety of your life and limbs. I have not time in these hurried
+days to write you anything other than a mere how d'ye letter. I will
+only repeat my favourite quotation:--
+
+    "What proves the hero truly great
+    Is never, never to despair."
+
+My house shall be your welcome home; and as I know your prudence
+(would to God you had _resolution_ equal to your _prudence_!) if
+anywhere at a distance from friends, you should need money, you know
+my direction by post.
+
+The enclosed is from Gilbert, brought by your sister Nanny. It was
+unluckily forgot. Yours to Gilbert goes by post.--I heard from them
+yesterday, they are all well.
+
+Adieu.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLVIII.
+
+
+TO MRS. M'MURDO,
+
+DRUMLANRIG.
+
+[Of this accomplished lady, Mrs. M'Murdo, of Drumlanrig, and her
+daughters, something has been said in the notes on the songs: the poem
+alluded to was the song of "Bonnie Jean."]
+
+_Ellisland, 2d May, 1789._
+
+MADAM,
+
+I have finished the piece which had the happy fortune to be honoured
+with your approbation; and never did little miss with more sparkling
+pleasure show her applauded sampler to partial mamma, than I now send
+my poem to you and Mr. M'Murdo if he is returned to Drumlanrig. You
+cannot easily imagine what thin-skinned animals--what sensitive plants
+poor poets are. How do we shrink into the embittered corner of
+self-abasement, when neglected or condemned by those to whom we look
+up! and how do we, in erect importance, add another cubit to our
+stature on being noticed and applauded by those whom we honour and
+respect! My late visit to Drumlanrig has, I can tell you, Madam, given
+me a balloon waft up Parnassus, where on my fancied elevation I regard
+my poetic self with no small degree of complacency. Surely with all
+their sins, the rhyming tribe are not ungrateful creatures.--I
+recollect your goodness to your humble guest--I see Mr. M'Murdo adding
+to the politeness of the gentleman, the kindness of a friend, and my
+heart swells as it would burst, with warm emotions and ardent wishes!
+It may be it is not gratitude--it may be a mixed sensation. That
+strange, shifting, doubling animal man is so generally, at best, but a
+negative, often a worthless creature, that we cannot see real goodness
+and native worth without feeling the bosom glow with sympathetic
+approbation.
+
+With every sentiment of grateful respect,
+
+I have the honour to be,
+
+Madam,
+
+Your obliged and grateful humble servant,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLIX.
+
+
+TO MR. CUNNINGHAM.
+
+[Honest Jamie Thomson, who shot the hare because she browsed with her
+companions on his father's "wheat-braird," had no idea he was pulling
+down such a burst of indignation on his head as this letter with the
+poem which it enclosed expresses.]
+
+_Ellisland, 4th May, 1789._
+
+MY DEAR SIR,
+
+Your _duty-free_ favour of the 26th April I received two days ago; I
+will not say I perused it with pleasure; that is the cold compliment
+of ceremony; I perused it, Sir, with delicious satisfaction;--in
+short, it is such a letter, that not you, nor your friend, but the
+legislature, by express proviso in their postage laws, should frank.
+
+A letter informed with the soul of friendship is such an honour to
+human nature, that they should order it free ingress and egress to and
+from their bags and mails, as an encouragement and mark of distinction
+to supereminent virtue.
+
+I have just put the last hand to a little poem which I think will be
+something to your taste. One morning lately, as I was out pretty early
+in the fields, sowing some grass seeds, I heard the burst of a shot
+from a neighbouring plantation, and presently a poor little wounded
+hare came crippling by me. You will guess my indignation at the
+inhuman fellow who could shoot a hare at this season, when all of them
+have young ones. Indeed there is something in that business of
+destroying for our sport individuals in the animal creation that do
+not injure us materially, which I could never reconcile to my ideas of
+virtue.
+
+    Inhuman man! curse on thy barb'rous art,
+      And blasted be thy murder-aiming eye!
+      May never pity soothe thee with a sigh,
+    Nor ever pleasure glad thy cruel heart!
+             &c. &c.
+
+Let me know how you like my poem. I am doubtful whether it would not
+be an improvement to keep out the last stanza but one altogether.
+
+Cruikshank is a glorious production of the author of man. You, he, and
+the noble Colonel of the Crochallan Fencibles are to me
+
+     "Dear as the ruddy drops which warm my heart"
+
+I have a good mind to make verses on you all, to the tune of "_Three
+guid fellows ayont the glen._"
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLX.
+
+
+TO MR. SAMUEL BROWN.
+
+[Samuel Brown was brother to the poet's mother: he seems to have been
+a joyous sort of person, who loved a joke, and understood double
+meanings.]
+
+_Mossgiel, 4th May, 1789._
+
+DEAR UNCLE,
+
+This, I hope, will find you and your conjugal yoke-fellow in your good
+old way; I am impatient to know if the Ailsa fowling be commenced for
+this season yet, as I want three or four stones of feathers, and I
+hope you will bespeak them for me. It would be a vain attempt for me
+to enumerate the various transactions I have been engaged in since I
+saw you last, but this know,--I am engaged in a _smuggling trade_, and
+God knows if ever any poor man experienced better returns, two for
+one, but as freight and delivery have turned out so dear, I am
+thinking of taking out a license and beginning in fair trade. I have
+taken a farm on the borders of the Nith, and in imitation of the old
+Patriarchs, get men-servants and maid-servants, and flocks and herds,
+and beget sons and daughters.
+
+Your obedient nephew,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXI.
+
+
+TO RICHARD BROWN.
+
+[Burns was much attached to Brown; and one regrets that an
+inconsiderate word should have estranged the haughty sailor.]
+
+_Mauchline, 21st May, 1789._
+
+MY DEAR FRIEND,
+
+I was in the country by accident, and hearing of your safe arrival, I
+could not resist the temptation of wishing you joy on your return,
+wishing you would write to me before you sail again, wishing you would
+always set me down as your bosom friend, wishing you long life and
+prosperity, and that every good thing may attend you, wishing Mrs.
+Brown and your little ones as free of the evils of this world, as is
+consistent with humanity, wishing you and she were to make two at the
+ensuing lying-in, with which Mrs. B. threatens very soon to favour me,
+wishing I had longer time to write to you at present; and, finally,
+wishing that if there is to be another state of existence, Mr. B.,
+Mrs. B., our little ones, and both families, and you and I, in some
+snug retreat, may make a jovial party to all eternity!
+
+My direction is at Ellisland, near Dumfries
+
+Yours,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXII.
+
+
+TO MR. JAMES HAMILTON.
+
+[James Hamilton, grocer, in Glasgow, interested himself early in the
+fortunes of the poet.]
+
+_Ellisland, 26th May, 1789._
+
+DEAR SIR,
+
+I send you by John Glover, carrier, the account for Mr. Turnbull, as I
+suppose you know his address.
+
+I would fain offer, my dear Sir, a word of sympathy with your
+misfortunes; but it is a tender string, and I know not how to touch
+it. It is easy to flourish a set of high-flown sentiments on the
+subjects that would give great satisfaction to--a breast quite at
+ease; but as ONE observes, who was very seldom mistaken in
+the theory of life, "The heart knoweth its own sorrows, and a stranger
+intermeddleth not therewith."
+
+Among some distressful emergencies that I have experienced in life, I
+ever laid this down as my foundation of comfort--_That he who has
+lived the life of an honest man, has by no means lived in vain!_
+
+With every wish for your welfare and future success,
+
+I am, my dear Sir,
+
+Sincerely yours,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXIII.
+
+
+TO WILLIAM CREECH, ESQ.
+
+[The poetic address to the "venomed stang" of the toothache seems to
+have come into existence about this time.]
+
+_Ellisland, 30th May, 1789._
+
+SIR,
+
+I had intended to have troubled you with a long letter, but at present
+the delightful sensations of an omnipotent toothache so engross all my
+inner man, as to put it out of my power even to write nonsense.
+However, as in duty bound, I approach my bookseller with an offering
+in my hand--a few poetic clinches, and a song:--To expect any other
+kind of offering from the Rhyming Tribe would be to know them much
+less than you do. I do not pretend that there is much merit in these
+_morceaux_, but I have two reasons for sending them; _primo_, they are
+mostly ill-natured, so are in unison with my present feelings, while
+fifty troops of infernal spirits are driving post from ear to ear
+along my jaw-bones; and _secondly_, they are so short, that you cannot
+leave off in the middle, and so hurt my pride in the idea that you
+found any work of mine too heavy to get through.
+
+I have a request to beg of you, and I not only beg of you, but conjure
+you, by all your wishes and by all your hopes, that the muse will
+spare the satiric wink in the moment of your foibles; that she will
+warble the song of rapture round your hymeneal couch; and that she
+will shed on your turf the honest tear of elegiac gratitude! Grant my
+request as speedily as possible--send me by the very first fly or
+coach for this place three copies of the last edition of my poems,
+which place to my account.
+
+Now may the good things of prose, and the good things of verse, come
+among thy hands, until they be filled with the _good things of this
+life_, prayeth
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXIV.
+
+
+TO MR. M'AULEY.
+
+[The poet made the acquaintance of Mr. M'Auley, of Dumbarton, in one
+of his northern tours,--he was introduced by his friend Kennedy.]
+
+_Ellisland, 4th June, 1789._
+
+DEAR SIR,
+
+Though I am not without my fears respecting my fate, at that grand,
+universal inquest of right and wrong, commonly called _The Last Day_,
+yet I trust there is one sin, which that arch-vagabond, Satan, who I
+understand is to be king's evidence, cannot throw in my teeth, I mean
+ingratitude. There is a certain pretty large quantum of kindness for
+which I remain, and from inability, I fear, must still remain, your
+debtor; but though unable to repay the debt, I assure you, Sir, I
+shall ever warmly remember the obligation. It gives me the sincerest
+pleasure to hear by my old acquaintance, Mr. Kennedy, that you are, in
+immortal Allan's language, "Hale, and weel, and living;" and that your
+charming family are well, and promising to be an amiable and
+respectable addition to the company of performers, whom the Great
+Manager of the Drama of Man is bringing into action for the succeeding
+age.
+
+With respect to my welfare, a subject in which you once warmly and
+effectively interested yourself, I am here in my old way, holding my
+plough, marking the growth of my corn, or the health of my dairy; and
+at times sauntering by the delightful windings of the Nith, on the
+margin of which I have built my humble domicile, praying for
+seasonable weather, or holding an intrigue with the muses; the only
+gipsies with whom I have now any intercourse. As I am entered into the
+holy state of matrimony, I trust my face is turned completely
+Zion-ward; and as it is a rule with all honest fellows to repeat no
+grievances, I hope that the little poetic licenses of former days will
+of course fall under the oblivious influence of some good-natured
+statute of celestial prescription. In my family devotion, which, like
+a good Presbyterian, I occasionally give to my household folks, I am
+extremely fond of that psalm, "Let not the errors of my youth," &c.,
+and that other, "Lo, children are God's heritage," &c., in which last
+Mrs. Burns, who by the bye has a glorious "wood-note wild" at either
+old song or psalmody, joins me with the pathos of Handel's Messiah.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXV.
+
+
+TO MR. ROBERT AINSLIE.
+
+[The following high-minded letter may be regarded as a sermon on
+domestic morality preached by one of the experienced.]
+
+_Ellisland, 8th June, 1789._
+
+MY DEAR FRIEND,
+
+I am perfectly ashamed of myself when I look at the date of your last.
+It is not that I forget the friend of my heart and the companion of my
+peregrinations; but I have been condemned to drudgery beyond
+sufferance, though not, thank God, beyond redemption. I have had a
+collection of poems by a lady, put into my hands to prepare them for
+the press; which horrid task, with sowing corn with my own hand, a
+parcel of masons, wrights, plasterers, &c., to attend to, roaming on
+business through Ayrshire--all this was against me, and the very first
+dreadful article was of itself too much for me.
+
+13th. I have not had a moment to spare from incessant toil since the 8th.
+Life, my dear Sir, is a serious matter. You know by experience that a man's
+individual self is a good deal, but believe me, a wife and family of
+children, whenever you have the honour to be a husband and a father, will
+show you that your present and most anxious hours of solitude are spent on
+trifles. The welfare of those who are very dear to us, whose only support,
+hope and stay we are--this, to a generous mind, is another sort of more
+important object of care than any concerns whatever which centre merely in
+the individual. On the other hand, let no young, unmarried, rakehelly dog
+among you, make a song of his pretended liberty and freedom from care. If
+the relations we stand in to king, country, kindred, and friends, be
+anything but the visionary fancies of dreaming metaphysicians; if religion,
+virtue, magnanimity, generosity, humanity and justice, be aught but empty
+sounds; then the man who may be said to live only for others, for the
+beloved, honourable female, whose tender faithful embrace endears life, and
+for the helpless little innocents who are to be the men and women, the
+worshippers of his God, the subjects of his king, and the support, nay the
+vital existence of his COUNTRY in the ensuing age;--compare such a man with
+any fellow whatever, who, whether he bustle and push in business among
+labourers, clerks, statesmen; or whether he roar and rant, and drink and
+sing in taverns--a fellow over whose grave no one will breathe a single
+heigh-ho, except from the cobweb-tie of what is called good-fellowship--who
+has no view nor aim but what terminates in himself--if there be any
+grovelling earth-born wretch of our species, a renegado to common sense,
+who would fain believe that the noble creature man, is no better than a
+sort of fungus, generated out of nothing, nobody knows how, and soon
+dissipated in nothing, nobody knows where; such a stupid beast, such a
+crawling reptile, might balance the foregoing unexaggerated comparison, but
+no one else would have the patience.
+
+Forgive me, my dear Sir, for this long silence. _To make you amends_,
+I shall send you soon, and more encouraging still, without any
+postage, one or two rhymes of my later manufacture.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXVI.
+
+
+TO MR. M'MURDO.
+
+[John M'Murdo has been already mentioned as one of Burns's firmest
+friends: his table at Drumlanrig was always spread at the poet's
+coming: nor was it uncheered by the presence of the lady of the house
+and her daughters.]
+
+_Ellisland, 19th June, 1789._
+
+SIR,
+
+A poet and a beggar are, in so many points of view, alike, that one
+might take them for the same individual character under different
+designations; were it not that though, with a trifling poetic license,
+most poets may be styled beggars, yet the converse of the proposition
+does not hold, that every beggar is a poet. In one particular,
+however, they remarkably agree; if you help either the one or the
+other to a mug of ale, or the picking of a bone, they will very
+willingly repay you with a song. This occurs to me at present, as I
+have just despatched a well-lined rib of John Kirkpatrick's
+Highlander; a bargain for which I am indebted to you, in the style of
+our ballad printers, "Five excellent new songs." The enclosed is
+nearly my newest song, and one that has cost me some pains, though
+that is but an equivocal mark of its excellence. Two or three others,
+which I have by me, shall do themselves the honour to wait on your
+after leisure: petitioners for admittance into favour must not harass
+the condescension of their benefactor.
+
+You see, Sir, what it is to patronize a poet. 'Tis like being a
+magistrate in a petty borough; you do them the favour to preside in
+their council for one year, and your name bears the prefatory stigma
+of Bailie for life.
+
+With, not the compliments, but the best wishes, the sincerest prayers
+of the season for you, that you may see many and happy years with Mrs.
+M'Murdo, and your family; two blessings by the bye, to which your rank
+does not, by any means, entitle you; a loving wife and fine family
+being almost the only good things of this life to which the farm-house
+and cottage have an exclusive right,
+
+I have the honour to be,
+
+Sir,
+
+Your much indebted and very humble servant,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXVII.
+
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP.
+
+[The devil, the pope, and the Pretender darkened the sermons, for more
+than a century, of many sound divines in the north. As a Jacobite,
+Burns disliked to hear Prince Charles called the Pretender, and as a
+man of a tolerant nature, he disliked to hear the Pope treated unlike
+a gentleman: his notions regarding Satan are recorded in his
+inimitable address.]
+
+_Ellisland, 21st June, 1789._
+
+DEAR MADAM,
+
+Will you take the effusions, the miserable effusions of low spirits,
+just as they flow from their bitter spring? I know not of any
+particular cause for this worst of all my foes besetting me; but for
+some time my soul has been beclouded with a thickening atmosphere of
+evil imaginations and gloomy presages.
+
+_Monday Evening._
+
+I have just heard Mr. Kirkpatrick preach a sermon. He is a man famous
+for his benevolence, and I revere him; but from such ideas of my
+Creator, good Lord deliver me! Religion, my honoured friend, is surely
+a simple business, as it equally concerns the ignorant and the
+learned, the poor and the rich. That there is an incomprehensible
+Great Being, to whom I owe my existence, and that he must be
+intimately acquainted with the operations and progress of the internal
+machinery, and consequent outward deportment of this creature which he
+has made; these are, I think, self-evident propositions. That there is
+a real and eternal distinction between virtue and vice, and
+consequently, that I am an accountable creature; that from the seeming
+nature of the human mind, as well as from the evident imperfection,
+nay, positive injustice, in the administration of affairs, both in the
+natural and moral worlds, there must be a retributive scene of
+existence beyond the grave; must, I think, be allowed by every one who
+will give himself a moment's reflection. I will go farther, and affirm
+that from the sublimity, excellence, and purity of his doctrine and
+precepts, unparalleled by all the aggregated wisdom and learning of
+many preceding ages, though, _to appearance_, he himself was the
+obscurest and most illiterate of our species; therefore Jesus Christ
+was from God.
+
+Whatever mitigates the woes, or increases the happiness of others,
+this is my criterion of goodness; and whatever injures society at
+large, or any individual in it, this is my measure of iniquity.
+
+What think you, madam, of my creed? I trust that I have said nothing
+that will lessen me in the eye of one, whose good opinion I value
+almost next to the approbation of my own mind.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXVIII.
+
+
+TO MR. ----.
+
+[The name of the person to whom the following letter is addressed is
+unknown: he seems, from his letter to Burns to have been intimate with
+the unfortunate poet, Robert Fergusson, who, in richness of
+conversation and plenitude of fancy, reminded him, he said, of Robert
+Burns.]
+
+1789.
+
+MY DEAR SIR,
+
+The hurry of a farmer in this particular season, and the indolence of
+a poet at all times and seasons, will, I hope, plead my excuse for
+neglecting so long to answer your obliging letter of the 5th of
+August.
+
+That you have done well in quitting your laborious concern in * * * *, I
+do not doubt; the weighty reasons you mention, were, I hope, very, and
+deservedly indeed, weighty ones, and your health is a matter of the
+last importance; but whether the remaining proprietors of the paper
+have also done well, is what I much doubt. The * * * *, so far as I was a
+reader, exhibited such a brilliancy of point, such an elegance of
+paragraph, and such a variety of intelligence, that I can hardly
+conceive it possible to continue a daily paper in the same degree of
+excellence: but if there was a man who had abilities equal to the
+task, that man's assistance the proprietors have lost.
+
+When I received your letter I was transcribing for * * * *, my letter to
+the magistrates of the Canongate, Edinburgh, begging their permission
+to place a tombstone over poor Fergusson, and their edict in
+consequence of my petition, but now I shall send them to * * * * * *. Poor
+Fergusson! If there be a life beyond the grave, which I trust there
+is; and if there be a good God presiding over all nature, which I am
+sure there is; thou art now enjoying existence in a glorious world,
+where worth of the heart alone is distinction in the man; where
+riches, deprived of all their pleasure-purchasing powers, return to
+their native sordid matter; where titles and honours are the
+disregarded reveries of an idle dream; and where that heavy virtue,
+which is the negative consequence of steady dulness, and those
+thoughtless, though often destructive follies which are unavoidable
+aberrations of frail human nature, will be thrown into equal oblivion
+as if they had never been!
+
+Adieu my dear sir! So soon as your present views and schemes are
+concentered in an aim, I shall be glad to hear from you; as your
+welfare and happiness is by no means a subject indifferent to
+
+Yours,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXIX.
+
+
+TO MISS WILLIAMS.
+
+[Helen Maria Williams acknowledged this letter, with the critical
+pencilling, on her poem on the Slave Trade, which it enclosed: she
+agreed, she said, with all his objections, save one, but considered
+his praise too high.]
+
+_Ellisland, 1789._
+
+MADAM,
+
+Of the many problems in the nature of that wonderful creature, man,
+this is one of the most extraordinary, that he shall go on from day to
+day, from week to week, from month to month, or perhaps from year to
+year, suffering a hundred times more in an hour from the impotent
+consciousness of neglecting what he ought to do, than the very doing
+of it would cost him. I am deeply indebted to you, first for a most
+elegant poetic compliment; then for a polite, obliging letter; and,
+lastly, for your excellent poem on the Slave Trade; and yet, wretch
+that I am! though the debts were debts of honour, and the creditor a
+lady, I have put off and put off even the very acknowledgment of the
+obligation, until you must indeed be the very angel I take you for, if
+you can forgive me.
+
+Your poem I have read with the highest pleasure. I have a way whenever
+I read a book, I mean a book in our own trade, Madam, a poetic one,
+and when it is my own property, that I take a pencil and mark at the
+ends of verses, or note on margins and odd paper, little criticisms of
+approbation or disapprobation as I peruse along. I will make no
+apology for presenting you with a few unconnected thoughts that
+occurred to me in my repeated perusals of your poem. I want to show
+you that I have honesty enough to tell you what I take to be truths,
+even when they are not quite on the side of approbation; and I do it
+in the firm faith that you have equal greatness of mind to hear them
+with pleasure.
+
+I had lately the honour of a letter from Dr. Moore, where he tells me
+that he has sent me some books: they are not yet come to hand, but I
+hear they are on the way.
+
+Wishing you all success in your progress in the path of fame; and that
+you may equally escape the danger of stumbling through incautious
+speed, or losing ground through loitering neglect.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXX.
+
+
+TO MR. JOHN LOGAN.
+
+[The Kirk's Alarm, to which this letter alludes, has little of the
+spirit of malice and drollery, so rife in his earlier controversial
+compositions.]
+
+_Ellisland, near Dumfries, 7th Aug. 1789._
+
+DEAR SIR,
+
+I intended to have written you long ere now, and as I told you, I had
+gotten three stanzas and a half on my way in a poetic epistle to you;
+but that old enemy of all _good works_, the devil, threw me into a
+prosaic mire, and for the soul of me I cannot get out of it. I dare
+not write you a long letter, as I am going to intrude on your time
+with a long ballad. I have, as you will shortly see, finished "The
+Kirk's Alarm;" but now that it is done, and that I have laughed once
+or twice at the conceits in some of the stanzas, I am determined not
+to let it get into the public; so I send you this copy, the first that
+I have sent to Ayrshire, except some few of the stanzas, which I wrote
+off in embryo for Gavin Hamilton, under the express provision and
+request that you will only read it to a few of us, and do not on any
+account give, or permit to be taken, any copy of the ballad. If I
+could be of any service to Dr. M'Gill, I would do it, though it should
+be at a much greater expense than irritating a few bigoted priests,
+but I am afraid serving him in his present _embarras_ is a task too
+hard for me. I have enemies enow, God knows, though I do not wantonly
+add to the number. Still as I think there is some merit in two or
+three of the thoughts, I send it to you as a small, but sincere
+testimony how much, and with what respectful esteem,
+
+I am, dear Sir,
+
+Your obliged humble servant,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXXI.
+
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP.
+
+[The poetic epistle of worthy Janet Little was of small account: nor
+was the advice of Dr. Moore, to abandon the Scottish stanza and
+dialect, and adopt the measure and language of modern English poetry,
+better inspired than the strains of the milkmaid, for such was Jenny
+Little.]
+
+_Ellisland, 6th Sept., 1789._
+
+DEAR MADAM,
+
+I have mentioned in my last my appointment to the Excise, and the
+birth of little Frank; who, by the bye, I trust will be no discredit
+to the honourable name of Wallace, as he has a fine manly countenance,
+and a figure that might do credit to a little fellow two months older;
+and likewise an excellent good temper, though when he pleases he has a
+pipe, only not quite so loud as the horn that his immortal namesake
+blew as a signal to take out the pin of Stirling bridge.
+
+I had some time ago an epistle, part poetic, and part prosaic, from
+your poetess, Mrs. J. Little, a very ingenious, but modest
+composition. I should have written her as she requested, but for the
+hurry of this new business. I have heard of her and her compositions
+in this country; and I am happy to add, always to the honour of her
+character. The fact is, I know not well how to write to her: I should
+sit down to a sheet of paper that I knew not how to stain. I am no dab
+at fine-drawn letter-writing; and, except when prompted by friendship
+or gratitude, or, which happens extremely rarely, inspired by the muse
+(I know not her name) that presides over epistolary writing, I sit
+down, when necessitated to write, as I would sit down, to beat hemp.
+
+Some parts of your letter of the 20th August, struck me with the most
+melancholy concern for the state of your mind at present.
+
+Would I could write you a letter of comfort, I would sit down to it
+with as much pleasure, as I would to write an epic poem of my own
+composition that should equal the _Iliad._ Religion, my dear friend,
+is the true comfort! A strong persuasion in a future state of
+existence; a proposition so obviously probable, that, setting
+revelation aside, every nation and people, so far as investigation has
+reached, for at least near four thousand years, have, in some mode or
+other, firmly believed it. In vain would we reason and pretend to
+doubt. I have myself done so to a very daring pitch; but, when I
+reflected, that I was opposing the most ardent wishes, and the most
+darling hopes of good men, and flying in the face of all human belief,
+in all ages, I was shocked at my own conduct.
+
+I know not whether I have ever sent you the following lines, or if you
+have ever seen them; but it is one of my favourite quotations, which I
+keep constantly by me in my progress through life, in the language of
+the book of Job,
+
+    "Against the day of battle and of war"--
+
+spoken of religion:
+
+    "'Tis _this_, my friend, that streaks our morning bright,
+    'Tis _this_, that gilds the horror of our night.
+    When wealth forsakes us, and when friends are few,
+    When friends are faithless, or when foes pursue;
+    Tis this that wards the blow, or stills the smart,
+    Disarms affliction, or repels his dart;
+    Within the breast bids purest raptures rise,
+    Bids smiling conscience spread her cloudless skies."
+
+I have been busy with _Zeluco._ The Doctor is so obliging as to
+request my opinion of it; and I have been revolving in my mind some
+kind of criticisms on novel-writing, but it is a depth beyond my
+research. I shall however digest my thoughts on the subject as well as
+I can. _Zeluco_ is a most sterling performance.
+
+Farewell! _A Dieu, le bon Dieu, je vous commende._
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXXII.
+
+
+TO CAPTAIN RIDDEL,
+
+CARSE.
+
+[The Whistle alluded to in this letter was contended for on the 16th
+of October, 1790--the successful competitor, Fergusson, of
+Craigdarroch, was killed by a fall from his horse, some time after the
+"jovial contest."]
+
+_Ellisland, 16th Oct., 1789._
+
+SIR,
+
+Big with the idea of this important day at Friars-Carse, I have
+watched the elements and skies in the full persuasion that they would
+announce it to the astonished world by some phenomena of terrific
+portent.--Yesternight until a very late hour did I wait with anxious
+horror, for the appearance of some comet firing half the sky; or
+aerial armies of sanguinary Scandinavians, darting athwart the
+startled heavens, rapid as the ragged lightning, and horrid as those
+convulsions of nature that bury nations.
+
+The elements, however, seem to take the matter very quietly: they did
+not even usher in this morning with triple suns and a shower of blood,
+symbolical of the three potent heroes, and the mighty claret-shed of
+the day.--For me, as Thomson in his Winter says of the storm--I shall
+"Hear astonished, and astonished sing"
+
+      The whistle and the man; I sing
+        The man that won the whistle, &c.
+
+    Here are we met, three merry boys,
+      Three merry boys I trow are we;
+    And mony a night we've merry been,
+      And mony mae we hope to be.
+
+    Wha first shall rise to gang awa,
+      A cuckold coward loun is he:
+    Wha _last_ beside his chair shall fa',
+      He is the king amang us three.
+
+To leave the heights of Parnassus and come to the humble vale of
+prose.--I have some misgivings that I take too much upon me, when I
+request you to get your guest, Sir Robert Lowrie, to frank the two
+enclosed covers for me, the one of them to Sir William Cunningham, of
+Robertland, Bart. at Kilmarnock,--the other to Mr. Allan Masterton,
+Writing-Master, Edinburgh. The first has a kindred claim on Sir
+Robert, as being a brother Baronet, and likewise a keen Foxite; the
+other is one of the worthiest men in the world, and a man of real
+genius; so, allow me to say, he has a fraternal claim on you. I want
+them franked for to-morrow, as I cannot get them to the post
+to-night.--I shall send a servant again for them in the evening.
+Wishing that your head may be crowned with laurels to-night, and free
+from aches to-morrow,
+
+I have the honour to be, Sir,
+
+Your deeply indebted humble Servant,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXXIII.
+
+
+TO CAPTAIN RIDDEL.
+
+[Robert Riddel kept one of those present pests of society--an
+album--into which Burns copied the Lines on the Hermitage, and the
+Wounded Hare.]
+
+_Ellisland, 1789._
+
+SIR,
+
+I wish from my inmost soul it were in my power to give you a more
+substantial gratification and return for all the goodness to the poet,
+than transcribing a few of his idle rhymes.--However, "an old song,"
+though to a proverb an instance of insignificance, is generally the
+only coin a poet has to pay with.
+
+If my poems which I have transcribed, and mean still to transcribe
+into your book, were equal to the grateful respect and high esteem I
+bear for the gentleman to whom I present them, they would be the
+finest poems in the language.--As they are, they will at least be a
+testimony with what sincerity I have the honour to be,
+
+Sir,
+
+Your devoted humble Servant,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXXIV.
+
+
+TO MR. ROBERT AINSLIE.
+
+[The ignominy of a poet becoming a gauger seems ever to have been
+present to the mind of Burns--but those moving things ca'd wives and
+weans have a strong influence on the actions of man.]
+
+_Ellisland, 1st Nov. 1789._
+
+MY DEAR FRIEND,
+
+I had written you long ere now, could I have guessed where to find
+you, for I am sure you have more good sense than to waste the precious
+days of vacation time in the dirt of business and Edinburgh.--Wherever
+you are, God bless you, and lead you not into temptation, but deliver
+you from evil!
+
+I do not know if I have informed you that I am now appointed to an
+excise division, in the middle of which my house and farm lie. In this
+I was extremely lucky. Without ever having been an expectant, as they
+call their journeymen excisemen, I was directly planted down to all
+intents and purposes an officer of excise; there to flourish and bring
+forth fruits--worthy of repentance.
+
+I know not how the word exciseman, or still more opprobrious, gauger,
+will sound in your ears. I too have seen the day when my auditory
+nerves would have felt very delicately on this subject; but a wife and
+children are things which have a wonderful power in blunting these
+kind of sensations. Fifty pounds a year for life, and a provision for
+widows and orphans, you will allow is no bad settlement for a _poet._
+For the ignominy of the profession, I have the encouragement which I
+once heard a recruiting sergeant give to a numerous, if not a
+respectable audience, in the streets of Kilmarnock.--"Gentlemen, for
+your further and better encouragement, I can assure you that our
+regiment is the most blackguard corps under the crown, and
+consequently with us an honest fellow has the surest chance for
+preferment."
+
+You need not doubt that I find several very unpleasant and
+disagreeable circumstances in my business; but I am tired with and
+disgusted at the language of complaint against the evils of life.
+Human existence in the most favourable situations does not abound with
+pleasures, and has its inconveniences and ills; capricious foolish man
+mistakes these inconveniences and ills as if they were the peculiar
+property of his particular situation; and hence that eternal
+fickleness, that love of change, which has ruined, and daily does ruin
+many a fine fellow, as well as many a blockhead, and is almost,
+without exception, a constant source of disappointment and misery.
+
+I long to hear from you how you go on--not so much in business as in
+life. Are you pretty well satisfied with your own exertions, and
+tolerably at ease in your internal reflections? 'Tis much to be a
+great character as a lawyer, but beyond comparison more to be a great
+character as a man. That you may be both the one and the other is the
+earnest wish, and that you _will_ be both is the firm persuasion of,
+
+My dear Sir, &c.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXXV.
+
+
+TO MR. RICHARD BROWN.
+
+[With this letter closes the correspondence of Robert Burns and
+Richard Brown.]
+
+_Ellisland, 4th November, 1789._
+
+I have been so hurried, my ever dear friend, that though I got both
+your letters, I have not been able to command an hour to answer them
+as I wished; and even now, you are to look on this as merely
+confessing debt, and craving days. Few things could have given me so
+much pleasure as the news that you were once more safe and sound on
+terra firma, and happy in that place where happiness is alone to be
+found, in the fireside circle. May the benevolent Director of all
+things peculiarly bless you in all those endearing connexions
+consequent on the tender and venerable names of husband and father! I
+have indeed been extremely lucky in getting an additional income of
+L50 a year, while, at the same time, the appointment will not cost me
+above L10 or L12 per annum of expenses more than I must have
+inevitably incurred. The worst circumstance is, that the excise
+division which I have got is so extensive, no less than ten parishes
+to ride over; and it abounds besides with so much business, that I can
+scarcely steal a spare moment. However, labour endears rest, and both
+together are absolutely necessary for the proper enjoyment of human
+existence. I cannot meet you anywhere. No less than an order from the
+Board of Excise, at Edinburgh, is necessary before I can have so much
+time as to meet you in Ayrshire. But do you come, and see me. We must
+have a social day, and perhaps lengthen it out with half the half the
+night before you go again to sea. You are the earliest friend I now
+have on earth, my brothers excepted; and is not that an endearing
+circumstance? When you and I first met, we were at the green period of
+human life. The twig would easily take a bent, but would as easily
+return to its former state. You and I not only took a mutual bent, but
+by the melancholy, though strong influence of being both of the family
+of the unfortunate, we were entwined with one another in our growth
+towards advanced age; and blasted be the sacrilegious hand that shall
+attempt to undo the union! You and I must have one bumper to my
+favourite toast, "May the companions of our youth be the friends of
+our old age!" Come and see me one year; I shall see you at Port
+Glasgow the next, and if we can contrive to have a gossiping between
+our two bedfellows, it will be so much additional pleasure. Mrs.
+Burns joins me in kind compliments to you and Mrs. Brown. Adieu!
+
+I am ever, my dear Sir, yours,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXXVI.
+
+
+TO R. GRAHAM, ESQ.
+
+[The poet enclosed in this letter to his patron in the Excise the
+clever verses on Captain Grose, the Kirk's Alarm, and the first ballad
+on Captain Miller's election.]
+
+_9th December, 1789._
+
+SIR,
+
+I have a good while had a wish to trouble you with a letter, and had
+certainly done it long ere now--but for a humiliating something that
+throws cold water on the resolution, as if one should say, "You have
+found Mr. Graham a very powerful and kind friend indeed, and that
+interest he is so kindly taking in your concerns, you ought by
+everything in your power to keep alive and cherish." Now though since
+God has thought proper to make one powerful and another helpless, the
+connexion of obliger and obliged is all fair; and though my being
+under your patronage is to me highly honourable, yet, Sir, allow me to
+flatter myself, that, as a poet and an honest man you first interested
+yourself in my welfare, and principally as such, still you permit me
+to approach you.
+
+I have found the excise business go on a great deal smoother with me
+than I expected; owing a good deal to the generous friendship of Mr.
+Mitchel, my collector, and the kind assistance of Mr. Findlater, my
+supervisor. I dare to be honest, and I fear no labour. Nor do I find
+my hurried life greatly inimical to my correspondence with the muses.
+Their visits to me, indeed, and I believe to most of their
+acquaintance, like the visits of good angels, are short and far
+between: but I meet them now and then as I jog through the hills of
+Nithsdale, just as I used to do on the banks of Ayr. I take the
+liberty to enclose you a few bagatelles, all of them the productions
+of my leisure thoughts in my excise rides.
+
+If you know or have ever seen Captain Grose, the antiquarian, you will
+enter into any humour that is in the verses on him. Perhaps you have
+seen them before, as I sent them to a London newspaper. Though I dare
+say you have none of the solemn-league-and-covenant fire, which shone
+so conspicuous in Lord George Gordon, and the Kilmarnock weavers, yet
+I think you must have heard of Dr. M'Gill, one of the clergymen of
+Ayr, and his heretical book. God help him, poor man! Though he is one
+of the worthiest, as well as one of the ablest of the whole priesthood
+of the Kirk of Scotland, in every sense of that ambiguous term, yet
+the poor Doctor and his numerous family are in imminent danger of
+being thrown out to the mercy of the winter-winds. The enclosed ballad
+on that business is, I confess, too local, but I laughed myself at
+some conceits in it, though I am convinced in my conscience that there
+are a good many heavy stanzas in it too.
+
+The election ballad, as you will see, alludes to the present canvass
+in our string of boroughs. I do not believe there will be such a
+hard-run match in the whole general election.
+
+I am too little a man to have any political attachments; I am deeply
+indebted to, and have the warmest veneration for, individuals of both
+parties; but a man who has it in his power to be the father of his
+country, and who * * * * *, is a character that one cannot speak of
+with patience.
+
+Sir J. J. does "what man can do," but yet I doubt his fate.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXXVII.
+
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP.
+
+[Burns was often a prey to lowness of spirits: at this some dull men
+have marvelled; but the dull have no misgivings: they go blindly and
+stupidly on, like a horse in a mill, and have none of the sorrows or
+joys which genius is heir to.]
+
+_Ellisland, 13th December, 1789._
+
+Many thanks, dear Madam, for your sheet-full of rhymes. Though at
+present I am below the veriest prose, yet from you everything pleases.
+I am groaning under the miseries of a diseased nervous system; a
+system, the state of which is most conducive to our happiness--or the
+most productive of our misery. For now near three weeks I have been so
+ill with a nervous head-ache, that I have been obliged for a time to
+give up my excise-books, being scarce able to lift my head, much less
+to ride once a week over ten muir parishes. What is man?--To-day in
+the luxuriance of health, exulting in the enjoyment of existence; in a
+few days, perhaps in a few hours, loaded with conscious painful being,
+counting the tardy pace of the lingering moments by the repercussions
+of anguish, and refusing or denied a comforter. Day follows night, and
+night comes after day, only to curse him with life which gives him no
+pleasure; and yet the awful, dark termination of that life is
+something at which he recoils.
+
+    "Tell us, ye dead; will none of you in pity
+    Disclose the secret -------------------
+    _What 'tis you are, and we must shortly be?_
+    ------------------------ 'tis no matter:
+    A little time will make us learn'd as you are."[194]
+
+Can it be possible, that when I resign this frail, feverish being, I
+shall still find myself in conscious existence? When the last gasp of
+agony has announced that I am no more to those that knew me, and the
+few who loved me; when the cold, stiffened, unconscious, ghastly corse
+is resigned into the earth, to be the prey of unsightly reptiles, and
+to become in time a trodden clod, shall I be yet warm in life, seeing
+and seen, enjoying and enjoyed? Ye venerable sages and holy flamens,
+is there probability in your conjectures, truth in your stories, of
+another world beyond death; or are they all alike, baseless visions,
+and fabricated fables? If there is another life, it must be only for
+the just, the benevolent, the amiable, and the humane; what a
+flattering idea, then, is a world to come! Would to God I as firmly
+believed it, as I ardently wish it! There I should meet an aged
+parent, now at rest from the many buffetings of an evil world, against
+which he so long and so bravely struggled. There should I meet the
+friend, the disinterested friend of my early life; the man who
+rejoiced to see me, because he loved me and could serve me.--Muir, thy
+weaknesses were the aberrations of human nature, but thy heart glowed
+with everything generous, manly and noble; and if ever emanation from
+the All-good Being animated a human form, it was thine! There should
+I, with speechless agony of rapture, again recognise my lost, my ever
+dear Mary! whose bosom was fraught with truth, honour, constancy, and
+love.
+
+    "My Mary, dear departed shade!
+      Where is thy place of heavenly rest?
+    Seest thou thy lover lowly laid?
+      Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?"
+
+Jesus Christ, thou amiablest of characters! I trust thou art no
+impostor, and that thy revelation of blissful scenes of existence
+beyond death and the grave, is not one of the many impositions which
+time after time have been palmed on credulous mankind. I trust that in
+thee "shall all the families of the earth be blessed," by being yet
+connected together in a better world, where every tie that bound heart
+to heart, in this state of existence, shall be, far beyond our present
+conceptions, more endearing.
+
+I am a good deal inclined to think with those who maintain, that what
+are called nervous affections are in fact diseases of the mind. I
+cannot reason, I cannot think; and but to you I would not venture to
+write anything above an order to a cobbler. You have felt too much of
+the ills of life not to sympathise with a diseased wretch, who has
+impaired more than half of any faculties he possessed. Your goodness
+will excuse this distracted scrawl, which the writer dare scarcely
+read, and which he would throw into the fire, were he able to write
+anything better, or indeed anything at all.
+
+Rumour told me something of a son of yours, who was returned from the
+East or West Indies. If you have gotten news from James or Anthony, it
+was cruel in you not to let me know; as I promise you on the sincerity
+of a man, who is weary of one world, and anxious about another, that
+scarce anything could give me so much pleasure as to hear of any good
+thing befalling my honoured friend.
+
+If you have a minute's leisure, take up your pen in pity to _le pauvre
+miserable._
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 194: Blair's Grave.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXXVIII.
+
+
+TO LADY W[INIFRED] M[AXWELL] CONSTABLE.
+
+[The Lady Winifred Maxwell, the last of the old line of Nithsdale, was
+granddaughter of that Earl who, in 1715, made an almost miraculous
+escape from death, through the spirit and fortitude of his countess, a
+lady of the noble family of Powis.]
+
+_Ellisland, 16th December, 1789._
+
+MY LADY,
+
+In vain have I from day to day expected to hear from Mrs. Young, as
+she promised me at Dalswinton that she would do me the honour to
+introduce me at Tinwald; and it was impossible, not from your
+ladyship's accessibility, but from my own feelings, that I could go
+alone. Lately indeed, Mr. Maxwell of Carruchen, in his usual goodness,
+offered to accompany me, when an unlucky indisposition on my part
+hindered my embracing the opportunity. To court the notice or the
+tables of the great, except where I sometimes have had a little matter
+to ask of them, or more often the pleasanter task of witnessing my
+gratitude to them, is what I never have done, and I trust never shall
+do. But with your ladyship I have the honour to be connected by one of
+the strongest and most endearing ties in the whole moral world. Common
+sufferers, in a cause where even to be unfortunate is glorious, the
+cause of heroic loyalty! Though my fathers had not illustrious honours
+and vast properties to hazard in the contest, though they left their
+humble cottages only to add so many units more to the unnoted crowd
+that followed their leaders, yet what they could they did, and what
+they had they lost; with unshaken firmness and unconcealed political
+attachments, they shook hands with ruin for what they esteemed the
+cause of their king and their country. The language and the enclosed
+verses are for your ladyship's eye alone. Poets are not very famous
+for their prudence; but as I can do nothing for a cause which is now
+nearly no more, I do not wish to hurt myself.
+
+I have the honour to be,
+
+My lady,
+
+Your ladyship's obliged and obedient
+
+Humble servant,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXXIX.
+
+
+TO PROVOST MAXWELL,
+
+OF LOCHMABEN.
+
+[Of Lochmaben, the "Marjory of the mony Lochs" of the election
+ballads, Maxwell was at this time provost, a post more of honour than
+of labour.]
+
+_Ellisland, 20th December, 1789._
+
+DEAR PROVOST,
+
+As my friend Mr. Graham goes for your good town to-morrow, I cannot
+resist the temptation to send you a few lines, and as I have nothing
+to say I have chosen this sheet of foolscap, and begun as you see at
+the top of the first page, because I have ever observed, that when
+once people have fairly set out they know not where to stop. Now that
+my first sentence is concluded, I have nothing to do but to pray
+heaven to help me on to another. Shall I write you on Politics or
+Religion, two master subjects for your sayers of nothing. Of the first
+I dare say by this time you are nearly surfeited: and for the last,
+whatever they may talk of it, who make it a kind of company concern, I
+never could endure it beyond a soliloquy. I might write you on
+farming, on building, or marketing, but my poor distracted mind is so
+torn, so jaded, so racked and bediveled with the task of the
+superlative damned to make _one guinea do the business of three_, that
+I detest, abhor, and swoon at the very word business, though no less
+than four letters of my very short sirname are in it.
+
+Well, to make the matter short, I shall betake myself to a subject
+ever fruitful of themes; a subject the turtle-feast of the sons of
+Satan, and the delicious secret sugar-plum of the babes of grace--a
+subject sparkling with all the jewels that wit can find in the mines
+of genius: and pregnant with all the stores of learning from Moses and
+Confucius to Franklin and Priestley--in short, may it please your
+Lordship, I intend to write * * *
+
+[_Here the Poet inserted a song which can only be sung at times when
+the punch-bowl has done its duty and wild wit is set free._]
+
+If at any time you expect a field-day in your town, a day when Dukes,
+Earls, and Knights pay their court to weavers, tailors, and cobblers,
+I should like to know of it two or three days beforehand. It is not
+that I care three skips of a cur dog for the politics, but I should
+like to see such an exhibition of human nature. If you meet with that
+worthy old veteran in religion and good-fellowship, Mr. Jeffrey, or
+any of his amiable family, I beg you will give them my best
+compliments.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXXX.
+
+
+TO SIR JOHN SINCLAIR.
+
+[Of the Monkland Book-Club alluded to in this letter, the clergyman
+had omitted all mention in his account of the Parish of Dunscore,
+published in Sir John Sinclair's work: some of the books which the
+poet introduced were stigmatized as vain and frivolous.]
+
+1790.
+
+SIR,
+
+The following circumstance has, I believe, been committed in the
+statistical account, transmitted to you of the parish of Dunscore, in
+Nithsdale. I beg leave to send it to you because it is new, and may be
+useful. How far it is deserving of a place in your patriotic
+publication, you are the best judge.
+
+To store the minds of the lower classes with useful knowledge, is
+certainly of very great importance, both to them as individuals and to
+society at large. Giving them a turn for reading and reflection, is
+giving them a source of innocent and laudable amusement: and besides,
+raises them to a more dignified degree in the scale of rationality.
+Impressed with this idea, a gentleman in this parish, Robert Riddel,
+Esq., of Glenriddel, set on foot a species of circulating library, on
+a plan so simple as to be practicable in any corner of the country;
+and so useful, as to deserve the notice of every country gentleman,
+who thinks the improvement of that part of his own species, whom
+chance has thrown into the humble walks of the peasant and the
+artisan, a matter worthy of his attention.
+
+Mr. Riddel got a number of his own tenants, and farming neighbors, to
+form themselves into a society for the purpose of having a library
+among themselves. They entered into a legal engagement to abide by it
+for three years; with a saving clause or two in case of a removal to a
+distance, or death. Each member, at his entry, paid five shillings;
+and at each of their meetings, which were held every fourth Saturday,
+sixpence more. With their entry-money, and the credit which they took
+on the faith of their future funds, they laid in a tolerable stock of
+books at the commencement. What authors they were to purchase, was
+always decided by the majority. At every meeting, all the books, under
+certain fines and forfeitures, by way of penalty, were to be produced;
+and the members had their choice of the volumes in rotation. He whose
+name stood for that night first on the list, had his choice of what
+volume he pleased in the whole collection; the second had his choice
+after the first; the third after the second, and so on to the last. At
+next meeting, he who had been first on the list at the preceding
+meeting, was last at this; he who had been second was first; and so on
+through the whole three years. At the expiration of the engagement the
+books were sold by auction, but only among the members themselves;
+each man had his share of the common stock, in money or in books, as
+he chose to be a purchaser or not.
+
+At the breaking up of this little society, which was formed under Mr.
+Riddel's patronage, what with benefactions of books from him, and what
+with their own purchases, they had collected together upwards of one
+hundred and fifty volumes. It will easily be guessed, that a good deal
+of trash would be bought. Among the books, however, of this little
+library, were, _Blair's Sermons_, _Robertson's History of Scotland_,
+_Hume's History of the Stewarts_, _The Spectator_, _Idler_,
+_Adventurer_, _Mirror_, _Lounger_, _Observer_, _Man of Feeling_, _Man
+of the World_, _Chrysal_, _Don Quixote_, _Joseph Andrews_, &c. A
+peasant who can read, and enjoy such books, is certainly a much
+superior being to his neighbour, who perhaps stalks besides his team,
+very little removed, except in shape, from the brutes he drives.
+
+Wishing your patriotic exertions their so much merited success,
+
+I am, Sir,
+
+Your humble servant,
+
+A PEASANT.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXXXI.
+
+
+TO CHARLES SHARPE, ESQ.,
+
+OF HODDAM.
+
+[The family of Hoddam is of old standing in Nithsdale. It has mingled
+blood with some of the noblest Scottish names; nor is it unknown
+either in history or literature--the fierce knight of Closeburn, who
+in the scuffle between Bruce and Comyne drew his sword and made
+"sicker," and my friend Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, are not the least
+distinguished of its members.]
+
+[1790.]
+
+It is true, Sir, you are a gentleman of rank and fortune, and I am a
+poor devil: you are a feather in the cap of society, and I am a very
+hobnail in its shoes; yet I have the honour to belong to the same
+family with you, and on that score I now address you. You will perhaps
+suspect that I am going to claim affinity with the ancient and
+honourable house of Kirkpatrick. No, no, Sir: I cannot indeed be
+properly said to belong to any house, or even any province or kingdom;
+as my mother, who, for many years was spouse to a marching regiment,
+gave me into this bad world, aboard the packet-boat, somewhere between
+Donaghadee and Portpatrick. By our common family, I mean, Sir, the
+family of the muses. I am a fiddler and a poet; and you, I am told,
+play an exquisite violin, and have a standard taste in the Belles
+Lettres. The other day, a brother catgut gave me a charming Scots air
+of your composition. If I was pleased with the tune, I was in raptures
+with the title you have given it; and taking up the idea I have spun
+it into the three stanzas enclosed. Will you allow me, Sir, to present
+you them, as the dearest offering that a misbegotten son of poverty
+and rhyme has to give? I have a longing to take you by the hand and
+unburthen my heart by saying, "Sir, I honour you as a man who supports
+the dignity of human nature, amid an age when frivolity and avarice
+have, between them, debased us below the brutes that perish!" But,
+alas, Sir! to me you are unapproachable. It is true, the muses
+baptized me in Castalian streams, but the thoughtless gipsies forgot
+to give me a name. As the sex have served many a good fellow, the Nine
+have given me a great deal of pleasure, but, bewitching jades! they
+have beggared me. Would they but spare me a little of their
+cast-linen! Were it only in my power to say that I have a shirt on my
+back! but the idle wenches, like Solomon's lilies, "they toil not,
+neither do they spin;" so I must e'en continue to tie my remnant of a
+cravat, like the hangman's rope, round my naked throat, and coax my
+galligaskins to keep together their many-coloured fragments. As to the
+affair of shoes, I have given that up. My pilgrimages in my
+ballad-trade, from town to town, and on your stony-hearted turnpikes
+too, are what not even the hide of Job's Behemoth could bear. The coat
+on my back is no more: I shall not speak evil of the dead. It would be
+equally unhandsome and ungrateful to find fault with my old surtout,
+which so kindly supplies and conceals the want of that coat. My hat
+indeed is a great favourite; and though I got it literally for an old
+song, I would not exchange it for the best beaver in Britain. I was,
+during several years, a kind of factotum servant to a country
+clergyman, where I pickt up a good many scraps of learning,
+particularly in some branches of the mathematics. Whenever I feel
+inclined to rest myself on my way, I take my seat under a hedge,
+laying my poetic wallet on the one side, and my fiddle-case on the
+other, and placing my hat between my legs, I can, by means of its
+brim, or rather brims, go through the whole doctrine of the conic
+sections.
+
+However, Sir, don't let me mislead you, as if I would interest your
+pity. Fortune has so much forsaken me, that she has taught me to live
+without her; and amid all my rags and poverty, I am as independent,
+and much more happy, than a monarch of the world. According to the
+hackneyed metaphor, I value the several actors in the great drama of
+life, simply as they act their parts. I can look on a worthless fellow
+of a duke with unqualified contempt, and can regard an honest
+scavenger with sincere respect. As you, Sir, go through your role with
+such distinguished merit, permit me to make one in the chorus of
+universal applause, and assure you that with the highest respect,
+
+I have the honour to be, &c.,
+
+JOHNNY FAA.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXXXII.
+
+
+TO MR. GILBERT BURNS.
+
+[In the few fierce words of this letter the poet bids adieu to all
+hopes of wealth from Ellisland.]
+
+_Ellisland, 11th January, 1790._
+
+DEAR BROTHER,
+
+I mean to take advantage of the frank, though I have not, in my
+present frame of mind, much appetite for exertion in writing. My
+nerves are in a cursed state. I feel that horrid hypochondria
+pervading every atom of both body and soul. This farm has undone my
+enjoyment of myself. It is a ruinous affair on all hands But let it
+go to bell! I'll fight it out and be off with it.
+
+We have gotten a set of very decent players here just now. I have seen
+them an evening or two. David Campbell, in Ayr, wrote to me by the
+manager of the company, a Mr. Sutherland, who is a man of apparent
+worth. On New-year-day evening I gave him the following prologue,
+which he spouted to his audience with applause.
+
+    No song nor dance I bring from yon great city,
+    That queens it o'er our taste--the more's the pity:
+    Tho', by the bye, abroad why will you roam?
+    Good sense and taste are natives here at home.
+
+I can no more.--If once I was clear of this cursed farm, I should
+respire more at ease.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXXXIII.
+
+
+TO MR. SUTHERLAND,
+
+PLAYER.
+
+ENCLOSING A PROLOGUE.
+
+[When the farm failed, the poet sought pleasure in the playhouse: he
+tried to retire from his own harassing reflections, into a world
+created by other minds.]
+
+_Monday Morning._
+
+I was much disappointed, my dear Sir, in wanting your most agreeable
+company yesterday. However, I heartily pray for good weather next
+Sunday; and whatever aerial Being has the guidance of the elements,
+may take any other half-dozen of Sundays he pleases, and clothe them
+with
+
+    "Vapours and clouds, and storms,
+    Until he terrify himself
+    At combustion of his own raising."
+
+I shall see you on Wednesday forenoon. In the greatest hurry,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXXXIV.
+
+
+TO WILLIAM DUNBAR, W.S.
+
+[This letter was first published by the Ettrick Shepherd, in his
+edition of Burns: it is remarkable for this sentence, "I am resolved
+never to breed up a son of mine to any of the learned professions: I
+know the value of independence, and since I cannot give my sons an
+independent fortune, I shall give them an independent line of life."
+We may look round us and inquire which line of life the poet could
+possibly mean.]
+
+_Ellisland, 14th January, 1790._
+
+Since we are here creatures of a day, since "a few summer days, and a
+few winter nights, and the life of man is at an end," why, my dear
+much-esteem Sir, should you and I let negligent indolence, for I know
+it is nothing worse, step in between us and bar the enjoyment of a
+mutual correspondence? We are not shapen out of the common, heavy,
+methodical clod, the elemental stuff of the plodding selfish race, the
+sons of Arithmetic and Prudence; our feelings and hearts are not
+benumbed and poisoned by the cursed influence of riches, which,
+whatever blessing they may be in other respects, are no friends to the
+nobler qualities of the heart: in the name of random sensibility,
+then, let never the moon change on our silence any more. I have had a
+tract of had health most part of this winter, else you had heard from
+me long ere now. Thank Heaven, I am now got so much better as to be
+able to partake a little in the enjoyments of life.
+
+Our friend Cunningham will, perhaps, have told you of my going into
+the Excise. The truth is, I found it a very convenient business to
+have L50 per annum, nor have I yet felt any of those mortifying
+circumstances in it that I was led to fear.
+
+_Feb. 2._
+
+I have not, for sheer hurry of business, been able to spare five
+minutes to finish my letter. Besides my farm business, I ride on my
+Excise matters at least two hundred miles every week. I have not by
+any means given up the muses. You will see in the 3d vol. of Johnson's
+Scots songs that I have contributed my mite there.
+
+But, my dear Sir, little ones that look up to you for paternal
+protection are an important charge. I have already two fine, healthy,
+stout little fellows, and I wish to throw some light upon them. I have
+a thousand reveries and schemes about them, and their future destiny.
+Not that I am a Utopian projector in these things. I am resolved never
+to breed up a son of mine to any of the learned professions. I know
+the value of independence; and since I cannot give my sons an
+independent fortune, I shall give them an independent line of life.
+What a chaos of hurry, chance, and changes is this world, when one
+sits soberly down to reflect on it! To a father, who himself knows the
+world, the thought that he shall have sons to usher into it must fill
+him with dread; but if he have daughters, the prospect in a thoughtful
+moment is apt to shock him.
+
+I hope Mrs. Fordyce and the two young ladies are well. Do let me
+forget that they are nieces of yours, and let me say that I never saw
+a more interesting, sweeter pair of sisters in my life. I am the fool
+of my feelings and attachments. I often take up a volume of my Spenser
+to realize you to my imagination, and think over the social scenes we
+have had together. God grant that there may be another world more
+congenial to honest fellows beyond this. A world where these rubs and
+plagues of absence, distance, misfortunes, ill-health, &c., shall no
+more damp hilarity and divide friendship. This I know is your throng
+season, but half a page will much oblige,
+
+My dear Sir,
+
+Yours sincerely,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXXXV.
+
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP.
+
+[Falconer, the poet, whom Burns mentions here, perished in the Aurora,
+in which he acted as purser: he was a satirist of no mean power, and
+wrote that useful work, the Marine Dictionary: but his fame depends
+upon "The Shipwreck," one of the most original and mournful poems in
+the language.]
+
+_Ellisland, 25th January, 1790._
+
+It has been owing to unremitting hurry of business that I have not
+written to you, Madam, long ere now. My health is greatly better, and
+I now begin once more to share in satisfaction and enjoyment with the
+rest of my fellow-creatures.
+
+Many thanks, my much-esteemed friend, for your kind letters; but why
+will you make me run the risk of being contemptible and mercenary in
+my own eyes? When I pique myself on my independent spirit, I hope it
+is neither poetic license, nor poetic rant; and I am so flattered with
+the honour you have done me, in making me your compeer in friendship
+and friendly correspondence, that I cannot without pain, and a degree
+of mortification, be reminded of the real inequality between our
+situations.
+
+Most sincerely do I rejoice with you, dear Madam, in the good news of
+Anthony. Not only your anxiety about his fate, but my own esteem for
+such a noble, warm-hearted, manly young fellow, in the little I had of
+his acquaintance, has interested me deeply in his fortunes.
+
+Falconer, the unfortunate author of the "Shipwreck," which you so much
+admire, is no more. After witnessing the dreadful catastrophe he so
+feelingly describes in his poem, and after weathering many hard gales
+of fortune, he went to the bottom with the Aurora frigate!
+
+I forget what part of Scotland had the honour of giving him birth; but
+he was the son of obscurity and misfortune. He was one of those daring
+adventurous spirits, which Scotland, beyond any other country, is
+remarkable for producing. Little does the fond mother think, as she
+hangs delighted over the sweet little leech at her bosom, where the
+poor fellow may hereafter wander, and what may be his fate. I remember
+a stanza in an old Scottish ballad, which, notwithstanding its rude
+simplicity, speaks feelingly to the heart:
+
+    "Little did my mother think,
+      That day she cradled me,
+    What land I was to travel in,
+      Or what death I should die!"[195]
+
+Old Scottish song are, you know, a favourite study and pursuit of
+mine, and now I am on that subject, allow me to give you two stanzas
+of another old simple ballad, which I am sure will please you. The
+catastrophe of the piece is a poor ruined female, lamenting her fate.
+She concludes with this pathetic wish:--
+
+    "O that my father had ne'er on me smil'd;
+      O that my mother had ne'er to me sung!
+    O that my cradle had never been rock'd;
+      But that I had died when I was young!
+
+    "O that the grave it were my bed;
+      My blankets were my winding sheet;
+    The clocks and the worms my bedfellows a';
+      And O sae sound as I should sleep!"
+
+I do not remember in all my reading, to have met with anything more
+truly the language of misery, than the exclamation in the last line.
+Misery is like love; to speak its language truly, the author must have
+felt it.
+
+I am every day expecting the doctor to give your little godson[196]
+the small-pox. They are _rife_ in the country, and I tremble for his
+fate. By the way, I cannot help congratulating you on his looks and
+spirit. Every person who sees him, acknowledges him to be the finest,
+handsomest child he has ever seen. I am myself delighted with the
+manly swell of his little chest, and a certain miniature dignity in
+the carriage of his head, and the glance of his fine black eye, which
+promise the undaunted gallantry of an independent mind.
+
+I thought to have sent you some rhymes, but time forbids. I promise
+you poetry until you are tired of it, next time I have the honour of
+assuring you how truly I am, &c.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 195: The ballad is in the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border,
+ed. 1833, vol. iii. p. 304.]
+
+[Footnote 196: The bard's second son, Francis.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXXXVI.
+
+
+TO MR. PETER HILL,
+
+BOOKSELLER, EDINBURGH.
+
+[The Mademoiselle Burns whom the poet inquires about, was one of the
+"ladies of the Canongate," who desired to introduce free trade in her
+profession into a close borough: this was refused by the magistrates
+of Edinburgh, though advocated with much eloquence and humour in a
+letter by her namesake--it is coloured too strongly with her calling
+to be published.]
+
+_Ellisland, 2d Feb., 1790._
+
+No! I will not say one word about apologies or excuses for not
+writing.--I am a poor, rascally gauger, condemned to gallop at least
+200 miles every week to inspect dirty ponds and yeasty barrels, and
+where can I find time to write to, or importance to interest anybody?
+The upbraidings of my conscience, nay the upbraidings of my wife, have
+persecuted me on your account these two or three months past.--I wish
+to God I was a great man, that my correspondence might throw light
+upon you, to let the world see what you really are: and then I would
+make your fortune without putting my hand in my pocket for you, which,
+like all other great men, I suppose I would avoid as much as possible.
+What are you doing, and how are you doing? Have you lately seen any of
+my few friends? What is become of the BOROUGH REFORM, or how
+is the fate of my poor namesake, Mademoiselle Burns, decided? O man!
+but for thee and thy selfish appetites, and dishonest artifices, that
+beauteous form, and that once innocent and still ingenuous mind, might
+have shone conspicuous and lovely in the faithful wife, and the
+affectionate mother; and shall the unfortunate sacrifice to thy
+pleasures have no claim on thy humanity!
+
+I saw lately in a Review, some extracts from a new poem, called the
+Village Curate; send it me. I want likewise a cheap copy of The World.
+Mr. Armstrong, the young poet, who does me the honour to mention me so
+kindly in his works, please give him my best thanks for the copy of
+his book--I shall write him, my first leisure hour. I like his poetry
+much, but I think his style in prose quite astonishing.
+
+Your book came safe, and I am going to trouble you with further
+commissions. I call it troubling you,--because I want only,
+BOOKS; the cheapest way, the best; so you may have to hunt
+for them in the evening auctions. I want Smollette's works, for the
+sake of his incomparable humour. I have already Roderick Random, and
+Humphrey Clinker.--Peregrine Pickle, Launcelot Greaves, and Ferdinand
+Count Fathom, I still want; but as I said, the veriest ordinary copies
+will serve me. I am nice only in the appearance of my poets. I forget
+the price of Cowper's Poems, but, I believe, I must have them. I saw
+the other day, proposals for a publication, entitled "Banks's new and
+complete Christian's Family Bible," printed for C. Cooke,
+Paternoster-row, London.--He promises at least, to give in the work, I
+think it is three hundred and odd engravings, to which he has put the
+names of the first artists in London.--You will know the character of
+the performance, as some numbers of it are published; and if it is
+really what it pretends to be, set me down as a subscriber, and send
+me the published numbers.
+
+Let me hear from you, your first leisure minute, and trust me you
+shall in future have no reason to complain of my silence. The dazzling
+perplexity of novelty will dissipate and leave me to pursue my course
+in the quiet path of methodical routine.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXXXVII.
+
+
+TO MR. W. NICOL.
+
+[The poet has recorded this unlooked-for death of the Dominie's mare
+in some hasty verses, which are not much superior to the subject.]
+
+_Ellisland, Feb. 9th, 1790._
+
+MY DEAR SIR,
+
+That d--mned mare of yours is dead. I would freely have given her
+price to have saved her; she has vexed me beyond description. Indebted
+as I was to your goodness beyond what I can ever repay, I eagerly
+grasped at your offer to have the mare with me. That I might at least
+show my readiness in wishing to be grateful, I took every care of her
+in my power. She was never crossed for riding above half a score of
+times by me or in my keeping. I drew her in the plough, one of three,
+for one poor week. I refused fifty-five shillings for her, which was
+the highest bode I could squeeze for her. I fed her up and had her in
+fine order for Dumfries fair; when four or five days before the fair,
+she was seized with an unaccountable disorder in the sinews, or
+somewhere in the bones of the neck; with a weakness or total want of
+power in her fillets, and in short the whole vertebrae of her spine
+seemed to be diseased and unhinged, and in eight-and-forty hours, in
+spite of the two best farriers in the country, she died and be d--mned
+to her! The farriers said that she had been quite strained in the
+fillets beyond cure before you had bought her; and that the poor
+devil, though she might keep a little flesh, had been jaded and quite
+worn out with fatigue and oppression. While she was with me, she was
+under my own eye, and I assure you, my much valued friend, everything
+was done for her that could be done; and the accident has vexed me to
+the heart. In fact I could not pluck up spirits to write to you, on
+account of the unfortunate business.
+
+There is little new in this country. Our theatrical company, of which
+you must have heard, leave us this week.--Their merit and character
+are indeed very great, both on the stage and in private life; not a
+worthless creature among them; and their encouragement has been
+accordingly. Their usual run is from eighteen to twenty-five pounds a
+night: seldom less than the one, and the house will hold no more than
+the other. There have been repeated instances of sending away six, and
+eight, and ten pounds a night for want of room. A new theatre is to be
+built by subscription; the first stone is to be laid on Friday first
+to come. Three hundred guineas have been raised by thirty subscribers,
+and thirty more might have been got if wanted. The manager, Mr.
+Sutherland, was introduced to me by a friend from Ayr; and a worthier
+or cleverer fellow I have rarely met with. Some of our clergy have
+slipt in by stealth now and then; but they have got up a farce of
+their own. You must have heard how the Rev. Mr. Lawson of Kirkmahoe,
+seconded by the Rev. Mr. Kirkpatrick of Dunscore, and the rest of that
+faction, have accused in formal process, the unfortunate and Rev. Mr.
+Heron, of Kirkgunzeon, that in ordaining Mr. Nielson to the cure of
+souls in Kirkbean, he, the said Heron, feloniously and treasonably
+bound the said Nielson to the confession of faith, _so far as it was
+agreeable to reason and the word of God_!
+
+Mrs. B. begs to be remembered most gratefully to you. Little Bobby and
+Frank are charmingly well and healthy. I am jaded to death with
+fatigue. For these two or three months, on an average, I have not
+ridden less than two hundred miles per week. I have done little in the
+poetic way. I have given Mr. Sutherland two Prologues; one of which
+was delivered last week. I have likewise strung four or five barbarous
+stanzas, to the tune of Chevy Chase, by way of Elegy on your poor
+unfortunate mare, beginning (the name she got here was Peg Nicholson)
+
+    "Peg Nicholson was a good bay mare,
+      As ever trod on airn;
+    But now she's floating down the Nith,
+      And past the mouth o' Cairn."
+
+My best compliments to Mrs. Nicol, and little Neddy, and all the
+family; I hope Ned is a good scholar, and will come out to gather nuts
+and apples with me next harvest.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXXXVIII.
+
+
+TO MR. CUNNINGHAM.
+
+[Burns looks back with something of regret to the days of rich dinners
+and flowing wine-cups which he experienced in Edinburgh. Alexander
+Cunningham and his unhappy loves are recorded in that fine song, "Had
+I a cave on some wild distant shore."]
+
+_Ellisland, 13th February, 1790._
+
+I beg your pardon, my dear and much valued friend, for writing to you
+on this very unfashionable, unsightly sheet--
+
+     "My poverty but not my will consents."
+
+But to make amends, since of modish post I have none, except one poor
+widowed half-sheet of gilt, which lies in my drawer among my plebeian
+fool's-cap pages, like the widow of a man of fashion, whom that
+unpolite scoundrel, Necessity, has driven from Burgundy and Pineapple,
+to a dish of Bohea, with the scandal-bearing help-mate of a
+village-priest; or a glass of whisky-toddy, with a ruby-nosed
+yoke-fellow of a foot-padding exciseman--I make a vow to enclose this
+sheet-full of epistolary fragments in that my only scrap of gilt
+paper.
+
+I am indeed your unworthy debtor for three friendly letters. I ought
+to have written to you long ere now, but it is a literal fact, I have
+scarcely a spare moment. It is not that I _will not_ write to you;
+Miss Burnet is not more dear to her guardian angel, nor his grace the
+Duke of Queensbury to the powers of darkness, than my friend
+Cunningham to me. It is not that I _cannot_ write to you; should you
+doubt it, take the following fragment, which was intended for you some
+time ago, and be convinced that I can _antithesize_ sentiment, and
+_circumvolute_ periods, as well as any coiner of phrase in the regions
+of philology.
+
+_December, 1789._
+
+MY DEAR CUNNINGHAM,
+
+Where are you? And what are you doing? Can you be that son of levity,
+who takes up a friendship as he takes up a fashion; or are you, like
+some other of the worthiest fellows in the world, the victim of
+indolence, laden with fetters of ever-increasing weight?
+
+What strange beings we are! Since we have a portion of conscious
+existence, equally capable of enjoying pleasure, happiness, and
+rapture, or of suffering pain, wretchedness, and misery, it is surely
+worthy of an inquiry, whether there be not such a thing as a science
+of life; whether method, economy, and fertility of expedients be not
+applicable to enjoyment, and whether there be not a want of dexterity
+in pleasure, which renders our little scantling of happiness still
+less; and a profuseness, an intoxication in bliss, which leads to
+satiety, disgust, and self-abhorrence. There is not a doubt but that
+health, talents, character, decent competency, respectable friends,
+are real substantial blessings; and yet do we not daily see those who
+enjoy many or all of these good things contrive notwithstanding to be
+as unhappy as others to whose lot few of them have fallen? I believe
+one great source of this mistake or misconduct is owing to a certain
+stimulus, with us called ambition, which goads us up the hill of life,
+not as we ascend other eminences, for the laudable curiosity of
+viewing an extended landscape, but rather for the dishonest pride of
+looking down on others of our fellow-creatures, seemingly diminutive
+in humbler stations, &c &c.
+
+_Sunday, 14th February, 1790._
+
+God help me! I am now obliged to
+
+    "Join night to day, and Sunday to the week."[197]
+
+If there be any truth in the orthodox faith of these churches, I am
+d--mned past redemption, and what is worse, d--mned to all eternity. I
+am deeply read in Boston's Four-fold State, Marshal on Sanctification,
+Guthrie's Trial of a Saving Interest, &c.; but "there is no balm in
+Gilead, there is no physician there," for me; so I shall e'en turn
+Arminian, and trust to "sincere though imperfect obedience."
+
+_Tuesday, 16th._
+
+Luckily for me, I was prevented from the discussion of the knotty
+point at which I had just made a full stop. All my fears and care are
+of this world: if there is another, an honest man has nothing to fear
+from it. I hate a man that wishes to be a Deist: but I fear, every
+fair, unprejudiced inquirer must in some degree be a sceptic. It is
+not that there are any very staggering arguments against the
+immortality of man; but like electricity, phlogiston, &c., the subject
+is so involved in darkness, that we want data to go upon. One thing
+frightens me much: that we are to live for ever, seems _too good news
+to be true._ That we are to enter into a new scene of existence,
+where, exempt from want and pain, we shall enjoy ourselves and our
+friends without satiety or separation--how much should I be indebted
+to any one who could fully assure me that this was certain!
+
+My time is once more expired. I will write to Mr. Cleghorn soon. God
+bless him and all his concerns! And may all the powers that preside
+over conviviality and friendship, be present with all their kindest
+influence, when the bearer of this, Mr. Syme, and you meet! I wish I
+could also make one.
+
+Finally, brethren, farewell! Whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever
+things are gentle, whatsoever things are charitable, whatsoever things
+are kind, think on these things, and think on
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 197: Young. _Satire on Women._]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CLXXXIX.
+
+
+TO MR. PETER HILL.
+
+[That Burns turned at this time his thoughts on the drama, this order
+to his bookseller for dramatic works, as well as his attendances at
+the Dumfries theatre, afford proof.]
+
+_Ellisland, 2d March, 1790._
+
+At a late meeting of the Monkland Friendly Society, it was resolved to
+augment their library by the following books, which you are to send us
+as soon as possible:--The Mirror, The Lounger, Man of Feeling, Man of
+the World, (these, for my own sake, I wish to have by the first
+carrier), Knox's History of the Reformation; Rae's History of the
+Rebellion in 1715; any good history of the rebellion in 1745; A
+Display of the Secession Act and Testimony, by Mr. Gibb; Hervey's
+Meditations; Beveridge's Thoughts; and another copy of Watson's Body
+of Divinity.
+
+I wrote to Mr. A. Masterton three or four months ago, to pay some
+money he owed me into your hands, and lately I wrote to you to the
+same purpose, but I have heard from neither one or other of you.
+
+In addition to the books I commissioned in my last, I want very much
+An Index to the Excise Laws, or an Abridgment of all the Statutes now
+in force relative to the Excise, by Jellinger Symons; I want three
+copies of this book: if it is now to be had, cheap or dear, get it for
+me. An honest country neighbour of mine wants too a Family Bible, the
+larger the better; but second-handed, for he does not choose to give
+above ten shillings for the book. I want likewise for myself, as you
+can pick them up, second-handed or cheap, copies of Otway's Dramatic
+Works, Ben Jonson's, Dryden's, Congreve's, Wycherley's, Vanbrugh's,
+Cibber's, or any dramatic works of the more modern, Macklin, Garrick,
+Foote, Colman, or Sheridan. A good copy too of Moliere, in French, I
+much want. Any other good dramatic authors in that language I want
+also; but comic authors, chiefly, though I should wish to have Racine,
+Corneille, and Voltaire too. I am in no hurry for all, or any of
+these, but if you accidentally meet with them very cheap, get them for
+me.
+
+And now to quit the dry walk of business, how do you do, my dear
+friend? and how is Mrs. Hill? I trust, if now and then not so
+_elegantly_ handsome, at least as amiable, and sings as divinely as
+ever. My good wife too has a charming "wood-note wild;" now could we
+four ----.
+
+I am out of all patience with this vile world, for one thing. Mankind
+are by nature benevolent creatures, except in a few scoundrelly
+instances. I do not think that avarice of the good things we chance to
+have, is born with us; but we are placed here amid so much nakedness,
+and hunger, and poverty, and want, that we are under a cursed
+necessity of studying selfishness, in order that we may
+EXIST! Still there are, in every age, a few souls, that all
+the wants and woes of life cannot debase to selfishness, or even to
+the necessary alloy of caution and prudence. If ever I am in danger of
+vanity, it is when I contemplate myself on this side of my disposition
+and character. God knows I am no saint; I have a whole host of follies
+and sin, to answer for; but if I could, and I believe I do it as far
+as I can, I would wipe away all tears from all eyes.
+
+Adieu!
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXC.
+
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP.
+
+[It is not a little singular that Burns says, in this letter, he had
+just met with the Mirror and Lounger for the first time: it will be
+remembered that a few years before a generous article was dedicated by
+Mackenzie, the editor, to the Poems of Burns, and to this the poet
+often alludes in his correspondence.]
+
+_Ellisland, 10th April, 1790._
+
+I have just now, my ever honoured friend, enjoyed a very high luxury,
+in reading a paper of the Lounger. You know my national prejudices. I
+had often read and admired the Spectator, Adventurer, Rambler, and
+World; but still with a certain regret, that they were so thoroughly
+and entirely English. Alas! have I often said to myself, what are all
+the boasted advantages which my country reaps from the union, that can
+counterbalance the annihilation of her independence, and even her very
+name! I often repeat that couplet of my favourite poet, Goldsmith--
+
+    "------ States of native liberty possest,
+     Tho' very poor, may yet be very blest."
+
+Nothing can reconcile me to the common terms, "English ambassador,
+English court," &c. And I am out of all patience to see that equivocal
+character, Hastings, impeached by "the Commons of England." Tell me, my
+friend, is this weak prejudice? I believe in my conscience such ideas as
+"my country; her independence; her honour; the illustrious names that
+mark the history of my native land;" &c.--I believe these, among your
+_men of the world_, men who in fact guide for the most part and govern
+our world, are looked on as so many modifications of wrongheadedness.
+They know the use of bawling out such terms, to rouse or lead THE
+RABBLE; but for their own private use, with almost all the _able
+statesmen_ that ever existed, or now exist, when they talk of right and
+wrong, they only mean proper and improper; and their measure of conduct
+is, not what they OUGHT, but what they DARE. For the truth of this I
+shall not ransack the history of nations, but appeal to one of the
+ablest judges of men that ever lived--the celebrated Earl of
+Chesterfield. In fact, a man who could thoroughly control his vices
+whenever they interfered with his interests, and who could completely
+put on the appearance of every virtue as often as it suited his
+purposes, is, on the Stanhopean plan, the _perfect man_; a man to lead
+nations. But are great abilities, complete without a flaw, and polished
+without a blemish, the standard of human excellence? This is certainly
+the staunch opinion of _men of the world_; but I call on honour, virtue,
+and worth, to give the stygian doctrine a loud negative! However, this
+must be allowed, that, if you abstract from man the idea of an existence
+beyond the grave, _then_ the true measure of human conduct is, _proper_
+and _improper_: virtue and vice, as dispositions of the heart, are, in
+that case, of scarcely the same import and value to the world at large,
+as harmony and discord in the modifications of sound; and a delicate
+sense of honour, like a nice ear for music, though it may sometimes give
+the possessor an ecstasy unknown to the coarser organs of the herd, yet,
+considering the harsh gratings, and inharmonic jars, in this ill-tuned
+state of being, it is odds but the individual would be as happy, and
+certainly would be as much respected by the true judges of society as it
+would then stand, without either a good ear or a good heart.
+
+You must know I have just met with the Mirror and Lounger for the
+first time, and I am quite in raptures with them; I should be glad to
+have your opinion of some of the papers. The one I have just read,
+Lounger, No. 61, has cost me more honest tears than anything I have
+read of a long time. Mackenzie has been called the Addison of the
+Scots, and in my opinion, Addison would not be hurt at the comparison.
+If he has not Addison's exquisite humour, he as certainly outdoes him
+in the tender and the pathetic. His Man of Feeling (but I am not
+counsel learned in the laws of criticism) I estimate as the first
+performance in its kind I ever saw. From what book, moral or even
+pious, will the susceptible young mind receive impressions more
+congenial to humanity and kindness, generosity and benevolence; in
+short, more of all that ennobles the soul to herself, or endears her
+to others--than from the simple affecting tale of poor Harley?
+
+Still, with all my admiration of Mackenzie's writings, I do not know
+if they are the fittest reading for a young man who is about to set
+out, as the phrase is, to make his way into life. Do not you think,
+Madam, that among the few favoured of heaven in the structure of their
+minds (for such there certainly are) there may be a purity, a
+tenderness, a dignity, an elegance of soul, which are of no use, nay,
+in some degree, absolutely disqualifying for the truly important
+business of making a man's way into life? If I am not much mistaken,
+my gallant young friend, A * * * * * *, is very much under these
+disqualifications; and for the young females of a family I could
+mention, well may they excite parental solicitude, for I, a common
+acquaintance, or as my vanity will have it, an humble friend, have
+often trembled for a turn of mind which may render them eminently
+happy--or peculiarly miserable!
+
+I have been manufacturing some verses lately; but when I have got the
+most hurried season of excise business over, I hope to have more
+leisure to transcribe anything that may show how much I have the
+honour to be, Madam,
+
+Yours, &c.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXCI.
+
+
+TO COLLECTOR MITCHELL.
+
+[Collector Mitchell was a kind and considerate gentle man: to his
+grandson, Mr. John Campbell, surgeon, in Aberdeen, I owe this
+characteristic letter.]
+
+_Ellisland, 1790._
+
+SIR,
+
+I shall not fail to wait on Captain Riddel to-night--I wish and pray
+that the goddess of justice herself would appear to-morrow among our
+hon. gentlemen, merely to give them a word in their ear that mercy to
+the thief is injustice to the honest man. For my part I have galloped
+over my ten parishes these four days, until this moment that I am just
+alighted, or rather, that my poor jackass-skeleton of a horse has let
+me down; for the miserable devil has been on his knees half a score of
+times within the last twenty miles, telling me in his own way,
+'Behold, am not I thy faithful jade of a horse, on which thou hast
+ridden these many years!'
+
+In short, Sir, I have broke my horse's wind, and almost broke my own
+neck, besides some injuries in a part that shall be nameless, owing to
+a hard-hearted stone for a saddle. I find that every offender has so
+many great men to espouse his cause, that I shall not be surprised if
+I am committed to the strong hold of the law to-morrow for insolence
+to the dear friends of the gentlemen of the country.
+
+I have the honour to be, Sir,
+
+Your obliged and obedient humble
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXCII.
+
+
+TO DR. MOORE.
+
+[The sonnets alluded to by Burns were those of Charlotte Smith: the
+poet's copy is now before me, with a few marks of his pen on the
+margins.]
+
+_Dumfries, Excise-Office, 14th July, 1790._
+
+SIR,
+
+Coming into town this morning, to attend my duty in this office, it
+being collection-day, I met with a gentleman who tells me he is on his
+way to London; so I take the opportunity of writing to you, as
+franking is at present under a temporary death. I shall have some
+snatches of leisure through the day, amid our horrid business and
+bustle, and I shall improve them as well as I can; but let my letter
+be as stupid as * * * * * * * * *, as miscellaneous as a newspaper, as
+short as a hungry grace-before-meat, or as long as a law-paper in the
+Douglas cause; as ill-spelt as country John's billet-doux, or as
+unsightly a scrawl as Betty Byre-Mucker's answer to it; I hope,
+considering circumstances, you will forgive it; and as it will put you
+to no expense of postage, I shall have the less reflection about it.
+
+I am sadly ungrateful in not returning you my thanks for your most
+valuable present, _Zeluco._ In fact, you are in some degree blameable
+for my neglect. You were pleased to express a wish for my opinion of
+the work, which so flattered me, that nothing less would serve my
+overweening fancy, than a formal criticism on the book. In fact, I
+have gravely planned a comparative view of you, Fielding, Richardson,
+and Smollett, in your different qualities and merits as novel-writers.
+This, I own, betrays my ridiculous vanity, and I may probably never
+bring the business to bear; and I am fond of the spirit young Elihu
+shows in the book of Job--"And I said, I will also declare my
+opinion," I have quite disfigured my copy of the book with my
+annotations. I never take it up without at the same time taking my
+pencil, and marking with asterisms, parentheses, &c., wherever I meet
+with an original thought, a nervous remark on life and manners, a
+remarkable well-turned period, or a character sketched with uncommon
+precision.
+
+Though I should hardly think of fairly writing out my "Comparative
+View," I shall certainly trouble you with my remarks, such as they
+are.
+
+I have just received from my gentleman that horrid summons in the book
+of Revelations--"That time shall be no more!"
+
+The little collection of sonnets have some charming poetry in them. If
+_indeed_ I am indebted to the fair author for the book, and not, as I
+rather suspect, to a celebrated author of the other sex, I should
+certainly have written to the lady, with my grateful acknowledgments,
+and my own ideas of the comparative excellence of her pieces. I would
+do this last, not from any vanity of thinking that my remarks could be
+of much consequence to Mrs. Smith, but merely from my own feelings as
+an author, doing as I would be done by.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXCIII.
+
+
+TO MR. MURDOCH,
+
+TEACHER OF FRENCH, LONDON.
+
+[The account of himself, promised to Murdoch by Burns, was never
+written.]
+
+_Ellisland, July 16, 1790._
+
+MY DEAR SIR,
+
+I received a letter from you a long time ago, but unfortunately, as
+it was in the time of my peregrinations and journeyings through
+Scotland, I mislaid or lost it, and by consequence your direction
+along with it. Luckily my good star brought me acquainted with Mr.
+Kennedy, who, I understand, is an acquaintance of yours: and by his
+means and mediation I hope to replace that link which my unfortunate
+negligence had so unluckily broke in the chain of our correspondence.
+I was the more vexed at the vile accident, as my brother William, a
+journeyman saddler, has been for some time in London; and wished above
+all things for your direction, that he might have paid his respects to
+his father's friend.
+
+His last address he sent me was, "Wm. Burns, at Mr. Barber's, saddler,
+No. 181, Strand." I writ him by Mr. Kennedy, but neglected to ask him
+for your address; so, if you find a spare half-minute, please let my
+brother know by a card where and when he will find you, and the poor
+fellow will joyfully wait on you, as one of the few surviving friends
+of the man whose name, and Christian name too, he has the honour to
+bear.
+
+The next letter I write you shall be a long one. I have much to tell
+you of "hair-breadth 'scapes in th' imminent deadly breach," with all
+the eventful history of a life, the early years of which owed so much
+to your kind tutorage; but this at an hour of leisure. My kindest
+compliments to Mrs. Murdoch and family.
+
+I am ever, my dear Sir,
+
+Your obliged friend,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXCIV.
+
+
+TO MR. M'MURDO.
+
+[This hasty note was accompanied by the splendid elegy on Matthew
+Henderson, and no one could better feel than M'Murdo, to whom it is
+addressed, the difference between the music of verse and the clangour
+of politics.]
+
+_Ellisland, 2d August, 1790._
+
+SIR,
+
+Now that you are over with the sirens of Flattery, the harpies of
+Corruption, and the furies of Ambition, these infernal deities, that
+on all sides, and in all parties, preside over the villanous business
+of politics, permit a rustic muse of your acquaintance to do her best
+to soothe you with a song.--
+
+You knew Henderson--I have not flattered his memory.
+
+I have the honour to be, Sir,
+
+Your obliged humble servant,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXCV.
+
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP.
+
+[Inquiries have been made in vain after the name of Burns's ci-devant
+friend, who had so deeply wounded his feelings.]
+
+_8th August, 1790._
+
+DEAR MADAM,
+
+After a long day's toil, plague, and care, I sit down to write to you.
+Ask me not why I have delayed it so long! It was owing to hurry,
+indolence, and fifty other things; in short to anything--but
+forgetfulness of _la plus aimable de son sexe._ By the bye, you are
+indebted your best courtesy to me for this last compliment; as I pay
+it from my sincere conviction of its truth--a quality rather rare in
+compliments of these grinning, bowing, scraping times.
+
+Well, I hope writing to _you_ will ease a little my troubled soul.
+Sorely has it been bruised to-day! A ci-devant friend of mine, and an
+intimate acquaintance of yours, has given my feelings a wound that I
+perceive will gangrene dangerously ere it cure. He has wounded my
+pride!
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXCVI.
+
+
+TO MR. CUNNINGHAM.
+
+["The strain of invective," says the judicious Currie, of this letter,
+"goes on some time longer in the style in which our bard was too apt
+to indulge, and of which the reader has already seen so much."]
+
+_Ellisland, 8th August, 1790._
+
+Forgive me, my once dear, and ever dear friend, my seeming negligence.
+You cannot sit down and fancy the busy life I lead.
+
+I laid down my goose-feather to beat my brains for an apt simile, and
+had some thoughts of a country grannum at a family christening; a
+bride on the market-day before her marriage; or a tavern-keeper at an
+election-dinner; but the resemblance that hits my fancy best is, that
+blackguard miscreant, Satan, who roams about like a roaring lion,
+seeking, _searching_ whom he may devour. However, tossed about as I
+am, if I choose (and who would not choose) to bind down with the
+crampets of attention the brazen foundation of integrity, I may rear
+up the superstructure of Independence, and from its daring turrets bid
+defiance to the storms of fate. And is not this a "consummation
+devoutly to be wished?"
+
+    "Thy spirit, Independence, let me share;
+      Lord of the lion-heart, and eagle-eye!
+    Thy steps I follow with my bosom bare,
+      Nor heed the storm that howls along the sky!"
+
+Are not these noble verses? They are the introduction of Smollett's
+Ode to Independence: if you have not seen the poem, I will send it to
+you.--How wretched is the man that hangs on by the favours of the
+great! To shrink from every dignity of man, at the approach of a
+lordly piece of self-consequence, who, amid all his tinsel glitter,
+and stately hauteur, is but a creature formed as thou art--and perhaps
+not so well formed as thou art--came into the world a puling infant as
+thou didst, and must go out of it, as all men must, a naked corse.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXCVII.
+
+
+TO DR. ANDERSON.
+
+[The gentleman to whom this imperfect note is addressed was Dr. James
+Anderson, a well-known agricultural and miscellaneous writer, and the
+editor of a weekly miscellany called the Bee.]
+
+SIR,
+
+I am much indebted to my worthy friend, Dr. Blacklock, for introducing
+me to a gentleman of Dr. Anderson's celebrity; but when you do me the
+honour to ask my assistance in your proposed publication, alas, Sir!
+you might as well think to cheapen a little honesty at the sign of an
+advocate's wig, or humility under the Geneva band. I am a miserable
+hurried devil, worn to the marrow in the friction of holding the noses
+of the poor publicans to the grindstone of the excise! and, like
+Milton's Satan, for private reasons, am forced
+
+    "To do what yet though damn'd I would abhor."
+
+--and, except a couplet or two of honest execration  *  *  *  *
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXCVIII.
+
+
+TO WILLIAM TYTLER, ESQ.,
+
+OF WOODHOUSELEE.
+
+[William Tytler was the "revered defender of the beauteous Stuart"--a
+man of genius and a gentleman.]
+
+_Lawn Market, August, 1790._
+
+SIR,
+
+Enclosed I have sent you a sample of the old pieces that are still to
+be found among our peasantry in the west. I had once a great many of
+these fragments, and some of these here, entire; but as I had no idea
+then that anybody cared for them, I have forgotten them. I invariably
+hold it sacrilege to add anything of my own to help out with the
+shattered wrecks of these venerable old compositions; but they have
+many various readings. If you have not seen these before, I know they
+will flatter your true old-style Caledonian feelings; at any rate I am
+truly happy to have an opportunity of assuring you how sincerely I am,
+revered Sir,
+
+Your gratefully indebted humble servant,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CXCIX.
+
+
+TO CRAUFORD TAIT, ESQ.,
+
+EDINBURGH.
+
+[Margaret Chalmers had now, it appears by this letter, become Mrs.
+Lewis Hay: her friend, Charlotte Hamilton, had been for some time Mrs.
+Adair, of Scarborough: Miss Nimmo was the lady who introduced Burns to
+the far-famed Clarinda.]
+
+_Ellisland_, 15th _October, 1790._
+
+DEAR SIR,
+
+Allow me to introduce to your acquaintance the bearer, Mr. Wm. Duncan,
+a friend of mine, whom I have long known and long loved. His father,
+whose only son he is, has a decent little property in Ayrshire, and
+has bred the young man to the law, in which department he comes up an
+adventurer to your good town. I shall give you my friend's character
+in two words: as to his head, he has talents enough, and more than
+enough for common life; as to his heart, when nature had kneaded the
+kindly clay that composes it, she said, "I can no more."
+
+You, my good Sir, were born under kinder stars; but your fraternal
+sympathy, I well know can enter into the feelings of the young man,
+who goes into life with the laudable ambition to _do_ something, and
+to _be_ something among his fellow-creatures; but whom the
+consciousness of friendless obscurity presses to the earth, and wounds
+to the soul!
+
+Even the fairest of his virtues are against him. That independent
+spirit, and that ingenuous modesty, qualities inseparable from a noble
+mind, are, with the million, circumstances not a little disqualifying.
+What pleasure is in the power of the fortunate and the happy, by their
+notice and patronage, to brighten the countenance and glad the heart
+of such depressed youth! I am not so angry with mankind for their deaf
+economy of the purse:--the goods of this world cannot be divided
+without being lessened--but why be a niggard of that which bestows
+bliss on a fellow-creature, yet takes nothing from our own means of
+enjoyment? We wrap ourselves up in the cloak of our own better
+fortune, and turn away our eyes, lest the wants and woes of our
+brother-mortals should disturb the selfish apathy of our souls!
+
+I am the worst hand in the world at asking a favour. That indirect
+address, that insinuating implication, which, without any positive
+request, plainly expresses your wish, is a talent not to be acquired
+at a plough-tail. Tell me then, for you can, in what periphrasis of
+language, in what circumvolution of phrase, I shall envelope, yet not
+conceal this plain story.--"My dear Mr. Tait, my friend Mr. Duncan,
+whom I have the pleasure of introducing to you, is a young lad of your
+own profession, and a gentleman of much modesty, and great worth.
+Perhaps it may be in your power to assist him in the, to him,
+important consideration of getting a place; but at all events, your
+notice and acquaintance will be a very great acquisition to him; and I
+dare pledge myself that he will never disgrace your favour."
+
+You may possibly be surprised, Sir, at such a letter from me; 'tis, I
+own, in the usual way of calculating these matters, more than our
+acquaintance entitles me to; but my answer is short:--Of all the men
+at your time of life, whom I knew in Edinburgh, you are the most
+accessible on the side on which I have assailed you. You are very much
+altered indeed from what you were when I knew you, if generosity point
+the path you will not tread, or humanity call to you in vain.
+
+As to myself, a being to whose interest I believe you are still a
+well-wisher; I am here, breathing at all times, thinking sometimes,
+and rhyming now and then. Every situation has its share of the cares
+and pains of life, and my situation I am persuaded has a full ordinary
+allowance of its pleasures and enjoyments.
+
+My best compliments to your father and Miss Tait. If you have an
+opportunity, please remember me in the solemn league and covenant of
+friendship to Mrs. Lewis Hay. I am a wretch for not writing her; but I
+am so hackneyed with self-accusation in that way, that my conscience
+lies in my bosom with scarce the sensibility of an oyster in its
+shell. Where is Lady M'Kenzie? wherever she is, God bless her! I
+likewise beg leave to trouble you with compliments to Mr. Wm.
+Hamilton; Mrs. Hamilton and family; and Mrs. Chalmers, when you are in
+that country. Should you meet with Miss Nimmo, please remember me
+kindly to her.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CC.
+
+
+TO ----.
+
+[This letter contained the Kirk's Alarm, a satire written to help the
+cause of Dr. M'Gill, who recanted his heresy rather than be removed
+from his kirk.]
+
+_Ellisland, 1790._
+
+DEAR SIR,
+
+Whether in the way of my trade I can be of any service to the Rev.
+Doctor, is I fear very doubtful. Ajax's shield consisted, I think, of
+seven bull-hides and a plate of brass, which altogether set Hector's
+utmost force at defiance. Alas! I am not a Hector, and the worthy
+Doctor's foes are as securely armed as Ajax was. Ignorance,
+superstition, bigotry, stupidity, malevolence, self-conceit, envy--all
+strongly bound in a massy frame of brazen impudence. Good God, Sir! to
+such a shield, humour is the peck of a sparrow, and satire the pop-gun
+of a school-boy. Creation-disgracing scelerats such as they, God only
+can mend, and the devil only can punish. In the comprehending way of
+Caligula, I wish they all had but one neck. I feel impotent as a child
+to the ardour of my wishes! O for a withering curse to blast the
+germins of their wicked machinations! O for a poisonous tornado,
+winged from the torrid zone of Tartarus, to sweep the spreading crop
+of their villainous contrivances to the lowest hell!
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCI.
+
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP.
+
+[The poet wrote out several copies of Tam o' Shanter and sent them to
+his friends, requesting their criticisms: he wrote few poems so
+universally applauded.]
+
+_Ellisland, November, 1790._
+
+"As cold waters to a thirsty soul, so is good news from a far
+country."
+
+Fate has long owed me a letter of good news from you, in return for
+the many tidings of sorrow which I have received. In this instance I
+most cordially obey the apostle--"Rejoice with them that do
+rejoice"--for me, _to sing_ for joy, is no new thing; but _to preach_
+for joy, as I have done in the commencement of this epistle, is a
+pitch of extravagant rapture to which I never rose before.
+
+I read your letter--I literally jumped for joy--How could such a
+mercurial creature as a poet lumpishly keep his seat on the receipt of
+the best news from his best friend. I seized my gilt-headed Wangee
+rod, an instrument indispensably necessary in my left hand, in the
+moment of inspiration and rapture; and stride, stride--quick and
+quicker--out skipt I among the broomy banks of Nith to muse over my
+joy by retail. To keep within the bounds of prose was impossible. Mrs.
+Little's is a more elegant, but not a more sincere compliment to the
+sweet little fellow, than I, extempore almost, poured out to him in
+the following verses:--
+
+    Sweet flow'ret, pledge o' meikle love
+      And ward o' mony a prayer,
+    What heart o' stane wad thou na move,
+      Sae helpless, sweet, an' fair.
+    November hirples o'er the lea
+      Chill on thy lovely form;
+    But gane, alas! the shelt'ring tree
+      Should shield thee frae the storm.
+
+I am much flattered by your approbation of my _Tam o' Shanter_, which
+you express in your former letter; though, by the bye, you load me in
+that said letter with accusations heavy and many; to all which I
+plead, _not guilty_! Your book is, I hear, on the road to reach me. As
+to printing of poetry, when you prepare it for the press, you have
+only to spell it right, and place the capital letters properly: as to
+the punctuation, the printers do that themselves.
+
+I have a copy of _Tam o' Shanter_ ready to send you by the first
+opportunity: it is too heavy to send by post.
+
+I heard of Mr. Corbet lately. He, in consequence of your
+recommendation, is most zealous to serve me. Please favour me soon
+with an account of your good folks; if Mrs. H. is recovering, and the
+young gentleman doing well.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCII.
+
+
+TO LADY W. M. CONSTABLE.
+
+[The present alluded to was a gold snuff-box, with a portrait of Queen
+Mary on the lid.]
+
+_Ellisland, 11th January, 1791._
+
+MY LADY,
+
+Nothing less than the unlucky accident of having lately broken my
+right arm, could have prevented me, the moment I received your
+ladyship's elegant present by Mrs. Miller, from returning you my
+warmest and most grateful acknowledgments. I assure your ladyship, I
+shall set it apart--the symbols of religion shall only be more sacred.
+In the moment of poetic composition, the box shall be my inspiring
+genius. When I would breathe the comprehensive wish of benevolence for
+the happiness of others, I shall recollect your ladyship; when I would
+interest my fancy in the distresses incident to humanity, I shall
+remember the unfortunate Mary.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCIII.
+
+
+TO WILLIAM DUNBAR, W.S.
+
+[This letter was in answer to one from Dunbar, in which the witty
+colonel of the Crochallan Fencibles supposed the poet had been
+translated to Elysium to sing to the immortals, as his voice had not
+been beard of late on earth.]
+
+_Ellisland, 17th January, 1791._
+
+I am not gone to Elysium, most noble colonel, but am still here in
+this sublunary world, serving my God, by propagating his image, and
+honouring my king by begetting him loyal subjects.
+
+Many happy returns of the season await my friend. May the thorns of
+care never beset his path! May peace be an inmate of his bosom, and
+rapture a frequent visitor of his soul! May the blood-hounds of
+misfortune never track his steps, nor the screech-owl of sorrow alarm
+his dwelling! May enjoyment tell thy hours, and pleasure number thy
+days, thou friend of the bard! "Blessed be he that blesseth thee, and
+cursed be he that curseth thee!!!"
+
+As a further proof that I am still in the land of existence, I send
+you a poem, the latest I have composed. I have a particular reason for
+wishing you only to show it to select friends, should you think it
+worthy a friend's perusal; but if, at your first leisure hour, you
+will favour me with your opinion of, and strictures on the
+performance, it will be an additional obligation on, dear Sir, your
+deeply indebted humble servant,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCIV.
+
+
+TO MR. PETER HILL.
+
+[The poet's eloquent apostrophe to poverty has no little feeling in
+it: he beheld the money which his poems brought melt silently away,
+and he looked to the future with more fear than hope.]
+
+_Ellisland, 17th January, 1791._
+
+Take these two guineas, and place them over against that d--mned
+account of yours! which has gagged my mouth these five or six months!
+I can as little write good things as apologies to the man I owe money
+to. O the supreme curse of making three guineas do the business of
+five! Not all the labours of Hercules; not all the Hebrews' three
+centuries of Egyptian bondage, were such an insuperable business, such
+an infernal task!! Poverty! thou half-sister of death, thou
+cousin-german of hell: where shall I find force of execration equal to
+the amplitude of thy demerits? Oppressed by thee, the venerable
+ancient, grown hoary in the practice of every virtue, laden with years
+and wretchedness, implores a little--little aid to support his
+existence, from a stony-hearted son of Mammon, whose sun of prosperity
+never knew a cloud; and is by him denied and insulted. Oppressed by
+thee, the man of sentiment, whose heart glows with independence, and
+melts with sensibility, inly pines under the neglect, or writhes in
+bitterness of soul, under the contumely of arrogant, unfeeling wealth.
+Oppressed by thee, the son of genius, whose ill-starred ambition
+plants him at the tables of the fashionable and polite, must see in
+suffering silence, his remark neglected, and his person despised,
+while shallow greatness in his idiot attempts at wit, shall meet with
+countenance and applause. Nor is it only the family of worth that have
+reason to complain of thee: the children of folly and vice, though in
+common with thee the offspring of evil, smart equally under thy rod.
+Owing to thee, the man of unfortunate disposition and neglected
+education, is condemned as a fool for his dissipation, despised and
+shunned as a needy wretch, when his follies as usual bring him to
+want; and when his unprincipled necessities drive him to dishonest
+practices, he is abhorred as a miscreant, and perishes by the justice
+of his country. But far otherwise is the lot of the man of family and
+fortune. _His_ early follies and extravagance, are spirit and fire;
+_his_ consequent wants are the embarrassments of an honest fellow; and
+when, to remedy the matter, he has gained a legal commission to
+plunder distant provinces, or massacre peaceful nations, he returns,
+perhaps, laden with the spoils of rapine and murder; lives wicked and
+respected, and dies a scoundrel and a lord.--Nay, worst of all, alas
+for helpless woman! the needy prostitute, who has shivered at the
+corner of the street, waiting to earn the wages of casual
+prostitution, is left neglected and insulted, ridden down by the
+chariot wheels of the coroneted RIP, hurrying on to the
+guilty assignation; she who without the same necessities to plead,
+riots nightly in the same guilty trade.
+
+Well! divines may say of it what they please; but execration is to the
+mind what phlebotomy is to the body: the vital sluices of both are
+wonderfully relieved by their respective evacuations.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCV.
+
+
+TO MR. CUNNINGHAM.
+
+[To Alexander Cunningham the poet generally communicated his favourite
+compositions.]
+
+_Ellisland, 23d January, 1791._
+
+Many happy returns of the season to you, my dear friend! As many of
+the good things of this life, as is consistent with the usual mixture
+of good and evil in the cup of being!
+
+I have just finished a poem (Tam o' Shanter) which you will receive
+enclosed. It is my first essay in the way of tales.
+
+I have these several months been hammering at an elegy on the amiable
+and accomplished Miss Burnet. I have got, and can get, no farther than
+the following fragment, on which please give me your strictures. In
+all kinds of poetic composition, I set great store by your opinion;
+but in sentimental verses, in the poetry of the heart, no Roman
+Catholic ever set more value on the infallibility of the Holy Father
+than I do on yours.
+
+I mean the introductory couplets as text verses.
+
+ELEGY
+
+ON THE LATE MISS BURNET, OF MONBODDO.
+
+    Life ne'er exulted in so rich a prize
+    As Burnet lovely from her native skies;
+    Nor envious death so triumph'd in a blow,
+    As that which laid th' accomplish'd Burnet low.
+
+Let me hear from you soon.
+
+Adieu!
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCVI.
+
+
+TO A.F. TYTLER, ESQ.
+
+["I have seldom in my life," says Lord Woodhouselee, "tasted a higher
+enjoyment from any work of genius than I received from Tam o'
+Shanter."]
+
+_Ellisland, February, 1791._
+
+SIR,
+
+Nothing less than the unfortunate accident I have met with, could have
+prevented my grateful acknowledgments for your letter. His own
+favourite poem, and that an essay in the walk of the muses entirely
+new to him, where consequently his hopes and fears were on the most
+anxious alarm for his success in the attempt; to have that poem so
+much applauded by one of the first judges, was the most delicious
+vibration that ever thrilled along the heart-strings of a poor poet.
+However, Providence, to keep up the proper proportion of evil with the
+good, which it seems is necessary in this sublunary state, thought
+proper to check my exultation by a very serious misfortune. A day or
+two after I received your letter, my horse came down with me and broke
+my right arm. As this is the first service my arm has done me since
+its disaster, I find myself unable to do more than just in general
+terms thank you for this additional instance of your patronage and
+friendship. As to the faults you detected in the piece, they are truly
+there: one of them, the hit at the lawyer and priest, I shall cut out;
+as to the falling off in the catastrophe, for the reason you justly
+adduce, it cannot easily be remedied. Your approbation, Sir, has given
+me such additional spirits to persevere in this species of poetic
+composition, that I am already revolving two or three stories in my
+fancy. If I can bring these floating ideas to bear any kind of
+embodied form, it will give me additional opportunity of assuring you
+how much I have the honour to be, &c.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCVII.
+
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP.
+
+[The elegy on the beautiful Miss Burnet, of Monboddo, was laboured
+zealously by Burns, but it never reached the excellence of some of his
+other compositions.]
+
+_Ellisland, 7th Feb. 1791._
+
+When I tell you, Madam, that by a fall, not from my horse, but with my
+horse, I have been a cripple some time, and that this is the first day
+my arm and hand have been able to serve me in writing; you will allow
+that it is too good an apology for my seemingly ungrateful silence. I
+am now getting better, and am able to rhyme a little, which implies
+some tolerable ease, as I cannot think that the most poetic genius is
+able to compose on the rack.
+
+I do not remember if ever I mentioned to you my having an idea of
+composing an elegy on the late Miss Burnet, of Monboddo. I had the
+honour of being pretty well acquainted with her, and have seldom felt
+so much at the loss of an acquaintance, as when I heard that so
+amiable and accomplished a piece of God's work was no more. I have, as
+yet, gone no farther than the following fragment, of which please let
+me have your opinion. You know that elegy is a subject so much
+exhausted, that any new idea on the business is not to be expected:
+'tis well if we can place an old idea in a new light. How far I have
+succeeded as to this last, you will judge from what follows. I have
+proceeded no further.
+
+Your kind letter, with your kind _remembrance_ of your godson, came
+safe. This last, Madam, is scarcely what my pride can bear. As to the
+little fellow, he is, partiality apart, the finest boy I have for a
+long time seen. He is now seventeen months old, has the small-pox and
+measles over, has cut several teeth, and never had a grain of doctor's
+drugs in his bowels.
+
+I am truly happy to hear that the "little floweret" is blooming so
+fresh and fair, and that the "mother plant" is rather recovering her
+drooping head. Soon and well may her "cruel wounds" be healed. I have
+written thus far with a good deal of difficulty. When I get a little
+abler you shall hear farther from,
+
+Madam, yours,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCVIII.
+
+
+TO THE REV. ARCH. ALISON.
+
+[Alison was much gratified it is said, with this recognition of the
+principles laid down in his ingenious and popular work.]
+
+_Ellisland, near Dumfries, 14th Feb. 1791._
+
+SIR,
+
+You must by this time have set me down as one of the most ungrateful
+of men. You did me the honour to present me with a book, which does
+honour to science and the intellectual powers of man, and I have not
+even so much as acknowledged the receipt of it. The fact is, you
+yourself are to blame for it. Flattered as I was by your telling me
+that you wished to have my opinion of the work, the old spiritual
+enemy of mankind, who knows well that vanity is one of the sins that
+most easily beset me, put it into my head to ponder over the
+performance with the look-out of a critic, and to draw up forsooth a
+deep learned digest of strictures on a composition, of which, in fact,
+until I read the book, I did not even know the first principles. I
+own, Sir, that at first glance, several of your propositions startled
+me as paradoxical. That the martial clangour of a trumpet had
+something in it vastly more grand, heroic, and sublime, than the
+twingle twangle of a jew's-harp: that the delicate flexure of a
+rose-twig, when the half-blown flower is heavy with the tears of the
+dawn, was infinitely more beautiful and elegant than the upright stub
+of a burdock; and that from something innate and independent of all
+associations of ideas;--these I had set down as irrefragable, orthodox
+truths, until perusing your book shook my faith.--In short, Sir,
+except Euclid's Elements of Geometry, which I made a shift to unravel
+by my father's fire-side, in the winter evening of the first season I
+held the plough, I never read a book which gave me such a quantum of
+information, and added so much to my stock of ideas, as your "Essays
+on the Principles of Taste." One thing, Sir, you must forgive my
+mentioning as an uncommon merit in the work, I mean the language. To
+clothe abstract philosophy in elegance of style, sounds something like
+a contradiction in terms; but you have convinced me that they are
+quite compatible.
+
+I enclose you some poetic bagatelles of my late composition. The one
+in print[198] is my first essay in the way of telling a tale.
+
+I am, Sir, &c.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 198: Tam O' Shanter]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: A NAVAL BATTLE.]
+
+CCIX.
+
+
+TO DR. MOORE.
+
+[Moore admired but moderately the beautiful ballad on Queen Mary, and
+the Elegy on Captain Matthew Henderson: Tam o' Shanter he thought full
+of poetical beauties.--He again regrets that he writes in the language
+of Scotland.]
+
+_Ellisland, 20th February, 1791._
+
+I do not know, Sir, whether you are a subscriber to _Grose's
+Antiquities of Scotland._ If you are, the enclosed poem will not be
+altogether new to you. Captain Grose did me the favour to send me a
+dozen copies of the proof sheet, of which this is one. Should you have
+read the piece before, still this will answer the principal end I have
+in view: it will give me another opportunity of thanking you for all
+your goodness to the rustic bard; and also of showing you, that the
+abilities you have been pleased to commend and patronize are still
+employed in the way you wish.
+
+The _Elegy on Captain Henderson_, is a tribute to the memory of a man
+I loved much. Poets have in this the same advantage as Roman
+Catholics; they can be of service to their friends after they have
+passed that bourne where all other kindness ceases to be of avail.
+Whether, after all, either the one or the other be of any real service
+to the dead, is, I fear, very problematical; but I am sure they are
+highly gratifying to the living: and as a very orthodox text, I forget
+where in scripture, says, "whatsoever is not of faith is sin;" so say
+I, whatsoever is not detrimental to society, and is of positive
+enjoyment, is of God, the giver of all good things, and ought to be
+received and enjoyed by his creatures with thankful delight. As almost
+all my religious tenets originate from my heart, I am wonderfully
+pleased with the idea, that I can still keep up a tender intercourse
+with the dearly beloved friend, or still more dearly beloved mistress,
+who is gone to the world of spirits.
+
+The ballad on Queen Mary was begun while I was busy with _Percy's
+Reliques of English Poetry._ By the way, how much is every honest
+heart, which has a tincture of Caledonian prejudice, obliged to you
+for your glorious story of Buchanan and Targe! 'Twas an unequivocal
+proof of your loyal gallantry of soul, giving Targe the victory. I
+should have been mortified to the ground if you had not.
+
+I have just read over, once more of many times, your _Zeluco._ I
+marked with my pencil, as I went along, every passage that pleased me
+particularly above the rest; and one or two, I think, which with
+humble deference, I am disposed to think unequal to the merits of the
+book. I have sometimes thought to transcribe these marked passages, or
+at least so much of them as to point where they are, and send them to
+you. Original strokes that strongly depict the human heart, is your
+and Fielding's province beyond any other novelist I have ever perused.
+Richardson indeed might perhaps be excepted; but unhappily, _dramatis
+personae_ are beings of another world; and however they may captivate
+the unexperienced, romantic fancy of a boy or a girl, they will ever,
+in proportion as we have made human nature our study, dissatisfy our
+riper years.
+
+As to my private concerns, I am going on, a mighty tax-gatherer before
+the Lord, and have lately had the interest to get myself ranked on the
+list of excise as a supervisor. I am not yet employed as such, but in
+a few years I shall fall into the file of supervisorship by seniority.
+I have had an immense loss in the death of the Earl of Glencairn; the
+patron from whom all my fame and fortune took its rise. Independent of
+my grateful attachment to him, which was indeed so strong that it
+pervaded my very soul, and was entwined with the thread of my
+existence: so soon as the prince's friends had got in (and every dog
+you know has his day), my getting forward in the excise would have
+been an easier business than otherwise it will be. Though this was a
+consummation devoutly to be wished, yet, thank Heaven, I can live and
+rhyme as I am: and as to my boys, poor little fellows! if I cannot
+place them on as high an elevation in life, as I could wish, I shall,
+if I am favoured so much of the Disposer of events as to see that
+period, fix them on as broad and independent a basis as possible.
+Among the many wise adages which have been treasured up by our
+Scottish ancestors, this is one of the best, _Better be the head o'
+the commonalty, than the tail o' the gentry._
+
+But I am got on a subject, which however interesting to me, is of no
+manner of consequence to you; so I shall give you a short poem on the
+other page, and close this with assuring you how sincerely I have the
+honour to be,
+
+Yours, &c.
+
+R. B.
+
+Written on the blank leaf of a book, which I presented to a very young
+lady, whom I had formerly characterized under the denomination of _The
+Rose Bud._ * * *
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCX.
+
+
+TO MR. CUNNINGHAM.
+
+[Cunningham could tell a merry story, and sing a humorous song; nor
+was he without a feeling for the deep sensibilities of his friend's
+verse.]
+
+_Ellisland, 12th March, 1791._
+
+If the foregoing piece be worth your strictures, let me have them. For
+my own part, a thing that I have just composed always appears through
+a double portion of that partial medium in which an author will ever
+view his own works. I believe in general, novelty has something in it
+that inebriates the fancy, and not unfrequently dissipates and fumes
+away like other intoxication, and leaves the poor patient, as usual,
+with an aching heart. A striking instance of this might be adduced,
+in the revolution of many a hymeneal honeymoon. But lest I sink into
+stupid prose, and so sacrilegiously intrude on the office of my
+parish-priest, I shall fill up the page in my own way, and give you
+another song of my late composition, which will appear perhaps in
+Johnson's work, as well as the former.
+
+You must know a beautiful Jacobite air, _There'll never be peace 'till
+Jamie comes hame._ When political combustion ceases to be the object
+of princes and patriots, it then you know becomes the lawful prey of
+historians and poets.
+
+    By yon castle wa' at the close of the day,
+    I heard a man sing, tho' his head it was grey;
+    And as he was singing, the tears fast down came--
+    There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame.
+
+If you like the air, and if the stanzas hit your fancy, you cannot
+imagine, my dear friend, how much you would oblige me, if by the
+charms of your delightful voice, you would give my honest effusion to
+"the memory of joys that are past," to the few friends whom you
+indulge in that pleasure. But I have scribbled on 'till I hear the
+clock has intimated the near approach of
+
+    That hour, o' night's black arch the key-stane.--
+
+So good night to you! Sound be your sleep, and delectable your dreams!
+Apropos, how do you like this thought in a ballad, I have just now on
+the tapis?
+
+    I look to the west when I gae to rest,
+      That happy my dreams and my slumbers may be;
+    Far, far in the west is he I lo'e best,
+      The lad that is dear to my babie and me!
+
+Good night, once more, and God bless you!
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXI.
+
+
+TO MR. ALEXANDER DALZEL,
+
+FACTOR, FINDLAYSTON.
+
+[Cromek says that Alexander Dalzel introduced the poetry of Burns to
+the notice of the Earl of Glencairn, who carried the Kilmarnock
+edition with him to Edinburgh, and begged that the poet would let him
+know what his views in the world were, that he might further them.]
+
+_Ellisland, 19th March, 1791._
+
+MY DEAR SIR,
+
+I have taken the liberty to frank this letter to you, as it encloses
+an idle poem of mine, which I send you; and God knows you may perhaps
+pay dear enough for it if you read it through. Not that this is my own
+opinion; but the author, by the time he has composed and corrected his
+work, has quite pored away all his powers of critical discrimination.
+
+I can easily guess from my own heart, what you have felt on a late
+most melancholy event. God knows what I have suffered, at the loss of
+my best friend, my first and dearest patron and benefactor; the man to
+whom I owe all that I am and have! I am gone into mourning for him,
+and with more sincerity of grief than I fear some will, who by
+nature's ties ought to feel on the occasion.
+
+I will be exceedingly obliged to you, indeed, to let me know the news
+of the noble family, how the poor mother and the two sisters support
+their loss. I had a packet of poetic bagatelles ready to send to Lady
+Betty, when I saw the fatal tidings in the newspaper. I see by the
+same channel that the honoured REMAINS of my noble patron, are
+designed to be brought to the family burial-place. Dare I trouble you
+to let me know privately before the day of interment, that I may cross
+the country, and steal among the crowd, to pay a tear to the last
+sight of my ever revered benefactor? It will oblige me beyond
+expression.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXII.
+
+
+TO MRS. GRAHAM,
+
+OF FINTRAY.
+
+[Mrs. Graham, of Fintray, felt both as a lady and a Scottish one, the
+tender Lament of the fair and unfortunate princess, which this letter
+contained.]
+
+_Ellisland, 1791._
+
+MADAM,
+
+Whether it is that the story of our Mary Queen of Scots has a peculiar
+effect on the feelings of a poet, or whether I have, in the enclosed
+ballad, succeeded beyond my usual poetic success, I know not; but it
+has pleased me beyond any effort of my muse for a good while past; on
+that account I enclose it particularly to you. It is true, the purity
+of my motives may be suspected. I am already deeply indebted to Mr.
+Graham's goodness; and what, _in the usual ways of men_, is of
+infinitely greater importance, Mr. G. can do me service of the utmost
+importance in time to come. I was born a poor dog; and however I may
+occasionally pick a better bone than I used to do, I know I must live
+and die poor: but I will indulge the flattering faith that my poetry
+will considerably outlive my poverty; and without any fustian
+affectation of spirit, I can promise and affirm, that it must be no
+ordinary craving of the latter shall ever make me do anything
+injurious to the honest fame of the former. Whatever may be my
+failings, for failings are a part of human nature, may they ever be
+those of a generous heart, and an independent mind! It is no fault of
+mine that I was born to dependence; nor is it Mr. Graham's chiefest
+praise that he can command influence; but it is his merit to bestow,
+not only with the kindness of a brother, but with the politeness of a
+gentleman; and I trust it shall be mine, to receive with thankfulness,
+and remember with undiminished gratitude.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXIII.
+
+
+TO MRS. GRAHAM,
+
+OF FINTRAY.
+
+[The following letter was written on the blank leaf of a new edition
+of his poems, presented by the poet, to one whom he regarded, and
+justly, as a patroness.]
+
+It is probable, Madam, that this page may be read, when the hand that
+now writes it shall be mouldering in the dust: may it then bear
+witness, that I present you these volumes as a tribute of gratitude,
+on my part ardent and sincere, as your and Mr. Graham's goodness to me
+has been generous and noble! May every child of yours, in the hour of
+need, find such a friend as I shall teach every child of mine, that
+their father found in you.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXIV.
+
+
+TO THE REV. G. BAIRD.
+
+[It was proposed to publish a new edition of the poems of Michael
+Bruce, by subscription, and give the profits to his mother, a woman
+eighty years old, and poor and helpless, and Burns was asked for a
+poem to give a new impulse to the publication.]
+
+_Ellisland, 1791._
+
+REVEREND SIR,
+
+Why did you, my dear Sir, write to me in such a hesitating style on
+the business of poor Bruce? Don't I know, and have I not felt, the
+many ills, the peculiar ills that poetic flesh is heir to? You shall
+have your choice of all the unpublished poems I have; and had your
+letter had my direction, so as to have reached me sooner (it only came
+to my hand this moment), I should have directly put you out of
+suspense on the subject. I only ask, that some prefatory advertisement
+in the book, as well as the subscription bills, may bear, that the
+publication is solely for the benefit of Bruce's mother. I would not
+put it in the power of ignorance to surmise, or malice to insinuate,
+that I clubbed a share in the work from mercenary motives. Nor need
+you give me credit for any remarkable generosity in my part of the
+business. I have such a host of peccadilloes, failings, follies, and
+backslidings (anybody but myself might perhaps give some of them a
+worse appellation), that by way of some balance, however trifling, in
+the account, I am fain to do any good that occurs in my very limited
+power to a fellow-creature, just for the selfish purpose of clearing a
+little the vista of retrospection.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXV.
+
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP.
+
+[Francis Wallace Burns, the godson of Mrs. Dunlop, to whom this letter
+refers, died at the age of fourteen--he was a fine and a promising
+youth.]
+
+_Ellisland, 11th April, 1791._
+
+I am once more able, my honoured friend, to return you, with my own
+hand, thanks for the many instances of your friendship, and
+particularly for your kind anxiety in this last disaster, that my evil
+genius had in store for me. However, life is chequered--joy and
+sorrow--for on Saturday morning last, Mrs. Burns made me a present of
+a fine boy; rather stouter, but not so handsome as your godson was at
+his time of life. Indeed I look on your little namesake to be my _chef
+d'oeuvre_ in that species of manufacture, as I look on Tam o'
+Shanter to be my standard performance in the poetical line. 'Tis
+true, both the one and the other discover a spice of roguish waggery,
+that might perhaps be as well spared; but then they also show, in my
+opinion, a force of genius and a finishing polish that I despair of
+ever excelling. Mrs. Burns is getting stout again, and laid as lustily
+about her to-day at breakfast, as a reaper from the corn-ridge. That
+is the peculiar privilege and blessing of our hale, sprightly damsels,
+that are bred among the _hay and heather._ We cannot hope for that
+highly polished mind, that charming delicacy of soul, which is found
+among the female world in the more elevated stations of life, and
+which is certainly by far the most bewitching charm in the famous
+cestus of Venus. It is indeed such an inestimable treasure, that where
+it can be had in its native heavenly purity, unstained by some one or
+other of the many shades of affectation, and unalloyed by some one or
+other of the many species of caprice, I declare to Heaven, I should
+think it cheaply purchased at the expense of every other earthly good!
+But as this angelic creature is, I am afraid, extremely rare in any
+station and rank of life, and totally denied to such a humble one as
+mine, we meaner mortals must put up with the next rank of female
+excellence--as fine a figure and face we can produce as any rank of
+life whatever; rustic, native grace; unaffected modesty, and unsullied
+purity; nature's mother-wit, and the rudiments of taste; a simplicity
+of soul, unsuspicious of, because unacquainted with, the crooked ways
+of a selfish, interested, disingenuous world; and the dearest charm of
+all the rest, a yielding sweetness of disposition, and a generous
+warmth of heart, grateful for love on our part, and ardently glowing
+with a more than equal return; these, with a healthy frame, a sound,
+vigorous constitution, which your higher ranks can scarcely ever hope
+to enjoy, are the charms of lovely woman in my humble walk of life.
+
+This is the greatest effort my broken arm has yet made. Do let me
+hear, by first post, how _cher petit Monsieur_ comes on with his
+small-pox. May almighty goodness preserve and restore him!
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXVI.
+
+
+TO ----.
+
+[That his works found their way to the newspapers, need have
+occasioned no surprise: the poet gave copies of his favorite pieces
+freely to his friends, as soon as they were written: who, in their
+turn, spread their fame among their acquaintances.]
+
+_Ellisland, 1791._
+
+DEAR SIR,
+
+I am exceedingly to blame in not writing you long ago; but the truth
+is, that I am the most indolent of all human beings; and when I
+matriculate in the herald's office, I intend that my supporters shall
+be two sloths, my crest a slow-worm, and the motto, "Deil tak the
+foremost." So much by way of apology for not thanking you sooner for
+your kind execution of my commission.
+
+I would have sent you the poem; but somehow or other it found its way
+into the public papers, where you must have seen it.
+
+I am ever, dear Sir,
+
+Yours sincerely,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXVII.
+
+
+TO ----.
+
+[This singular letter was sent by Burns, it is believed, to a critic,
+who had taken him to task about obscure language, and imperfect
+grammar.]
+
+_Ellisland, 1791._
+
+Thou eunuch of language: thou Englishman, who never was south the
+Tweed: thou servile echo of fashionable barbarisms: thou quack,
+vending the nostrums of empirical elocution: thou marriage-maker
+between vowels and consonants, on the Gretna-green of caprice: thou
+cobler, botching the flimsy socks of bombast oratory: thou blacksmith,
+hammering the rivets of absurdity: thou butcher, imbruing thy hands in
+the bowels of orthography: thou arch-heretic in pronunciation: thou
+pitch-pipe of affected emphasis: thou carpenter, mortising the awkward
+joints of jarring sentences: thou squeaking dissonance of cadence:
+thou pimp of gender: thou Lion Herald to silly etymology: thou
+antipode of grammar: thou executioner of construction: thou brood of
+the speech-distracting builders of the Tower of Babel; thou lingual
+confusion worse confounded: thou scape-gallows from the land of
+syntax: thou scavenger of mood and tense: thou murderous accoucheur of
+infant learning; thou _ignis fatuus_, misleading the steps of
+benighted ignorance: thou pickle-herring in the puppet-show of
+nonsense: thou faithful recorder of barbarous idiom: thou persecutor
+of syllabication: thou baleful meteor, foretelling and facilitating
+the rapid approach of Nox and Erebus.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXVIII.
+
+
+TO MR. CUNNINGHAM.
+
+[To Clarke, the Schoolmaster, Burns, it is said, addressed several
+letters, which on his death were put into the fire by his widow,
+because of their license of language.]
+
+_11th June, 1791._
+
+Let me interest you, my dear Cunningham, in behalf of the gentleman
+who waits on you with this. He is a Mr. Clarke, of Moffat, principal
+schoolmaster there, and is at present suffering severely under the
+persecution of one or two powerful individuals of his employers. He is
+accused of harshness to boys that were placed under his care. God help
+the teacher, if a man of sensibility and genius, and such is my friend
+Clarke, when a booby father presents him with his booby son, and
+insists on lighting up the rays of science, in a fellow's head whose
+skull is impervious and inaccessible by any other way than a positive
+fracture with a cudgel: a fellow whom in fact it savours of impiety to
+attempt making a scholar of, as he has been marked a blockhead in the
+book of fate, at the almighty fiat of his Creator.
+
+The patrons of Moffat-school are, the ministers, magistrates, and
+town-council of Edinburgh, and as the business comes now before them,
+let me beg my dearest friend to do everything in his power to serve
+the interests of a man of genius and worth, and a man whom I
+particularly respect and esteem. You know some good fellows among the
+magistracy and council, but particularly you have much to say with a
+reverend gentleman to whom you have the honour of being very nearly
+related, and whom this country and age have had the honour to produce.
+I need not name the historian of Charles V. I tell him through the
+medium of his nephew's influence, that Mr. Clarke is a gentleman who
+will not disgrace even his patronage. I know the merits of the cause
+thoroughly, and say it, that my friend is falling a sacrifice to
+prejudiced ignorance.
+
+God help the children of dependence! Hated and persecuted by their
+enemies, and too often, alas! almost unexceptionably, received by
+their friends with disrespect and reproach, under the thin disguise of
+cold civility and humiliating advice. O! to be a sturdy savage,
+stalking in the pride of his independence, amid the solitary wilds of
+his deserts; rather than in civilized life, helplessly to tremble for
+a subsistence, precarious as the caprice of a fellow-creature! Every
+man has his virtues, and no man is without his failings; and curse on
+that privileged plain-dealing of friendship, which, in the hour of my
+calamity, cannot reach forth the helping hand without at the same time
+pointing out those failings, and apportioning them their share in
+procuring my present distress. My friends, for such the world calls
+ye, and such ye think yourselves to be, pass by my virtues if you
+please, but do, also, spare my follies: the first will witness in my
+breast for themselves, and the last will give pain enough to the
+ingenuous mind without you. And since deviating more or less from the
+paths of propriety and rectitude, must be incident to human nature, do
+thou, Fortune, put it in my power, always from myself, and of myself,
+to bear the consequence of those errors! I do not want to be
+independent that I may sin, but I want to be independent in my
+sinning.
+
+To return in this rambling letter to the subject I set out with, let
+me recommend my friend, Mr. Clarke, to your acquaintance and good
+offices; his worth entitles him to the one, and his gratitude will
+merit the other. I long much to hear from you.
+
+Adieu!
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXIX.
+
+
+TO THE EARL OF BUCHAN.
+
+[Lord Buchan printed this letter in his Essay on the Life of Thomson,
+in 1792. His lordship invited Burns to leave his corn unreaped, walk
+from Ellisland to Dryburgh, and help him to crown Thomson's bust with
+bays, on Ednam Hill, on the 22d of September.]
+
+_Ellisland, August 29th, 1791._
+
+MY LORD,
+
+Language sinks under the ardour of my feelings when I would thank your
+lordship for the honour you have done me in inviting me to make one at
+the coronation of the bust of Thomson. In my first enthusiasm in
+reading the card you did me the honour to write me, I overlooked
+every obstacle, and determined to go; but I fear it will not be in my
+power. A week or two's absence, in the very middle of my harvest, is
+what I much doubt I dare not venture on. I once already made a
+pilgrimage _up_ the whole course of the Tweed, and fondly would I take
+the same delightful journey _down_ the windings of that delightful
+stream.
+
+Your lordship hints at an ode for the occasion: but who would write
+after Collins? I read over his verses to the memory of Thomson, and
+despaired.--I got indeed to the length of three or four stanzas, in
+the way of address to the shade of the bard, on crowning his bust. I
+shall trouble your lordship with the subjoined copy of them, which, I
+am afraid, will be but too convincing a proof how unequal I am to the
+task. However, it affords me an opportunity of approaching your
+lordship, and declaring how sincerely and gratefully I have the honour
+to be, &c.,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXX.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMAS SLOAN.
+
+[Thomas Sloan was a west of Scotland man, and seems, though not much
+in correspondence, to have been on intimate terms with Burns.]
+
+_Ellisland, Sept. 1, 1791._
+
+MY DEAR SLOAN,
+
+Suspense is worse than disappointment, for that reason I hurry to tell
+you that I just now learn that Mr. Ballantyne does not choose to
+interfere more in the business. I am truly sorry for it, but cannot
+help it.
+
+You blame me for not writing you sooner, but you will please to
+recollect that you omitted one little necessary piece of
+information;--your address.
+
+However, you know equally well, my hurried life, indolent temper, and
+strength of attachment. It must be a longer period than the longest
+life "in the world's hale and undegenerate days," that will make me
+forget so dear a friend as Mr. Sloan. I am prodigal enough at times,
+but I will not part with such a treasure as that.
+
+I can easily enter into the _embarras_ of your present situation. You
+know my favourite quotation from Young--
+
+    ---------------"On reason build RESOLVE!
+      That column of true majesty in man;"
+
+and that other favourite one from Thomson's Alfred--
+
+    "What proves the hero truly GREAT,
+    Is never, never to despair."
+
+Or shall I quote you an author of your acquaintance?
+
+    "---- Whether DOING, SUFFERING, OR FORBEARING,
+    You may do miracles by--PERSEVERING."
+
+I have nothing new to tell you. The few friends we have are going on
+in the old way. I sold my crop on this day se'ennight, and sold it
+very well. A guinea an acre, on an average, above value. But such a
+scene of drunkenness was hardly ever seen in this country. After the
+roup was over, about thirty people engaged in a battle, every man for
+his own hand, and fought it out for three hours. Nor was the scene
+much better in the house. No fighting, indeed, but folks lying drunk
+on the floor, and decanting, until both my dogs got so drunk by
+attending them, that they could not stand. You will easily guess how I
+enjoyed the scene; as I was no farther over than you used to see me.
+
+Mrs. B. and family have been in Ayrshire these many weeks.
+
+Farewell; and God bless you, my dear friend!
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXXI.
+
+
+TO LADY E. CUNNINGHAM.
+
+[The poem enclosed was the Lament for James, Earl of Glencairn: it is
+probable that the Earl's sister liked the verses, for they were
+printed soon afterwards.]
+
+MY LADY,
+
+I would, as usual, have availed myself of the privilege your goodness
+has allowed me, of sending you anything I compose in my poetical way;
+but as I had resolved, so soon as the shock of my irreparable loss
+would allow me, to pay a tribute to my late benefactor, I determined
+to make that the first piece I should do myself the honour of sending
+you. Had the wing of my fancy been equal to the ardour of my heart,
+the enclosed had been much more worthy your perusal: as it is, I beg
+leave to lay it at your ladyship's feet. As all the world knows my
+obligations to the late Earl of Glencairn, I would wish to show as
+openly that my heart glows, and will ever glow, with the most grateful
+sense and remembrance of his lordship's goodness. The sables I did
+myself the honour to wear to his lordship's memory, were not the
+"mockery of woe." Nor shall my gratitude perish with me!--if among my
+children I shall have a son that has a heart, he shall hand it down to
+his child as a family honour, and a family debt, that my dearest
+existence I owe to the noble house of Glencairn!
+
+I was about to say, my lady, that if you think the poem may venture to
+see the light, I would, in some way or other, give it to the world.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXXII.
+
+
+TO MR. AINSLIE.
+
+[It has been said that the poet loved to aggravate his follies to his
+friends: but that this tone of aggravation was often ironical, this
+letter, as well as others, might be cited.]
+
+_Ellisland, 1791._
+
+MY DEAR AINSLIE,
+
+Can you minister to a mind diseased? can you, amid the horrors of
+penitence, remorse, head-ache, nausea, and all the rest of the d----d
+hounds of hell, that beset a poor wretch, who has been guilty of the
+sin of drunkenness--can you speak peace to a troubled soul?
+
+_Miserable perdu_ that I am, I have tried everything that used to
+amuse me, but in vain: here must I sit, a monument of the vengeance
+laid up in store for the wicked, slowly counting every chick of the
+clock as it slowly, slowly, numbers over these lazy scoundrels of
+hours, who, d----n them, are ranked up before me, every one at his
+neighbour's backside, and every one with a burthen of anguish on his
+back, to pour on my devoted head--and there is none to pity me. My
+wife scolds me! my business torments me, and my sins come staring me
+in the face, every one telling a more bitter tale than his
+fellow.--When I tell you even * * * has lost its power to please, you
+will guess something of my hell within, and all around me--I begun
+_Elibanks and Elibraes_, but the stanzas fell unenjoyed, and
+unfinished from my listless tongue: at last I luckily thought of
+reading over an old letter of yours, that lay by me in my book-case,
+and I felt something for the first time since I opened my eyes, of
+pleasurable existence. ---- Well--I begin to breathe a little, since I
+began to write to you. How are you, and what are you doing? How goes
+Law? Apropos, for connexion's sake, do not address to me supervisor,
+for that is an honour I cannot pretend to--I am on the list, as we
+call it, for a supervisor, and will be called out by and bye to act as
+one; but at present, I am a simple gauger, tho' t'other day I got an
+appointment to an excise division of 25_l. per annum_ better than the
+rest. My present income, down money, is 70_l. per annum._
+
+I have one or two good fellows here whom you would be glad to know.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXXIII.
+
+
+TO COL. FULLARTON.
+
+OF FULLARTON.
+
+[This letter was first published in the Edinburgh Chronicle.]
+
+_Ellisland, 1791._
+
+SIR,
+
+I have just this minute got the frank, and next minute must send it to
+post, else I purposed to have sent you two or three other bagatelles,
+that might have amused a vacant hour about as well as "Six excellent
+new songs," or, the Aberdeen 'Prognostication for the year to come.' I
+shall probably trouble you soon with another packet. About the gloomy
+month of November, when 'the people of England hang and drown
+themselves,' anything generally is better than one's own thought.
+
+Fond as I may be of my own productions, it is not for their sake that
+I am so anxious to send you them. I am ambitious, covetously ambitious
+of being known to a gentleman whom I am proud to call my countryman; a
+gentleman who was a foreign ambassador as soon as he was a man, and a
+leader of armies as soon as he was a soldier, and that with an eclat
+unknown to the usual minions of a court, men who, with all the
+adventitious advantages of princely connexions and princely fortune,
+must yet, like the caterpillar, labour a whole lifetime before they
+reach the wished height, there to roost a stupid chrysalis, and doze
+out the remaining glimmering existence of old age.
+
+If the gentleman who accompanied you when you did me the honour of
+calling on me, is with you, I beg to be respectfully remembered to
+him.
+
+I have the honour to be,
+
+Sir,
+
+Your highly obliged, and most devoted
+
+Humble servant,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXXIV.
+
+
+TO MISS DAVIES.
+
+[This accomplished lady was the youngest daughter of Dr. Davies, of
+Tenby, in Pembrokeshire: she was related to the Riddels of Friar's
+Carse, and one of her sisters married Captain Adam Gordon, of the
+noble family of Kenmure. She had both taste and skill in verse.]
+
+It is impossible, Madam, that the generous warmth and angelic purity
+of your youthful mind, can have any idea of that moral disease under
+which I unhappily must rank us the chief of sinners; I mean a
+torpitude of the moral powers, that may be called, a lethargy of
+conscience. In vain Remorse rears her horrent crest, and rouses all
+her snakes; beneath the deadly fixed eye and leaden hand of Indolence,
+their wildest ire is charmed into the torpor of the bat, slumbering
+out the rigours of winter, in the chink of a ruined wall. Nothing
+less, Madam, could have made me so long neglect your obliging
+commands. Indeed I had one apology--the bagatelle was not worth
+presenting. Besides, so strongly am I interested in Miss Davies's fate
+and welfare in the serious business of life, amid its chances and
+changes, that to make her the subject of a silly ballad is downright
+mockery of these ardent feelings; 'tis like an impertinent jest to a
+dying friend.
+
+Gracious Heaven! why this disparity between our wishes and our powers?
+Why is the most generous wish to make others blest, impotent and
+ineffectual--as the idle breeze that crosses the pathless desert! In
+my walks of life I have met with a few people to whom how gladly would
+I have said--"Go, be happy! I know that your hearts have been wounded
+by the scorn of the proud, whom accident has placed above you--or
+worse still, in whose hands are, perhaps, placed many of the comforts
+of your life. But there! ascend that rock, Independence, and look
+justly down on their littleness of soul. Make the worthless tremble
+under your indignation, and the foolish sink before your contempt; and
+largely impart that happiness to others, which, I am certain, will
+give yourselves so much pleasure to bestow."
+
+Why, dear Madam, must I wake from this delightful revery, and find it
+all a dream? Why, amid my generous enthusiasm, must I, find myself
+poor and powerless, incapable of wiping one tear from the eye of pity,
+or of adding one comfort to the friend I love!--Out upon the world,
+say I, that its affairs are administered so ill! They talk of
+reform;--good Heaven! what a reform would I make among the sons and
+even the daughters of men!--Down, immediately, should go fools from
+the high places, where misbegotten chance has perked them up, and
+through life should they skulk, ever haunted by their native
+insignificance, as the body marches accompanied by its shadow.--As for
+a much more formidable class, the knaves, I am at a loss what to do
+with them: had I a world, there should not be a knave in it.
+
+But the hand that could give, I would liberally fill: and I would pour
+delight on the heart that could kindly forgive, and generously love.
+
+Still the inequalities of life are, among men, comparatively
+tolerable--but there is a delicacy, a tenderness, accompanying every
+view in which we can place lovely Woman, that are grated and shocked
+at the rude, capricious distinctions of fortune. Woman is the
+blood-royal of life: let there be slight degrees of precedency among
+them--but let them be ALL sacred.--Whether this last sentiment be
+right or wrong, I am not accountable; it is an original component
+feature of my mind.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXXV.
+
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP.
+
+[Burns, says Cromek, acknowledged that a refined and accomplished
+woman was a being all but new to him till he went to Edinburgh, and
+received letters from Mrs. Dunlop.]
+
+_Ellisland, 17th December, 1791._
+
+Many thanks to you, Madam, for your good news respecting the little
+floweret and the mother-plant. I hope my poetic prayers have been
+heard, and will be answered up to the warmest sincerity of their
+fullest extent; and then Mrs. Henri will find her little darling the
+representative of his late parent, in everything but his abridged
+existence.
+
+I have just finished the following song, which to a lady the
+descendant of Wallace--and many heroes of his true illustrious
+line--and herself the mother of several soldiers, needs neither
+preface nor apology.
+
+     _Scene_--_a field of battle_--_time of the day, evening;
+     the wounded and dying of the victorious army are supposed to
+     join in the following_
+
+SONG OF DEATH.
+
+    Farewell, thou fair day, thou green earth, and ye skies
+      Now gay with the bright setting sun;
+    Farewell, loves and friendships, ye dear tender ties--
+      Our race of existence is run!
+
+The circumstance that gave rise to the foregoing verses was, looking
+over with a musical friend M'Donald's collection of Highland airs, I
+was struck with one, an Isle of Skye tune, entitled "Oran and Aoig,
+or, The Song of Death," to the measure of which I have adapted my
+stanzas. I have of late composed two or three other little pieces,
+which, ere yon full-orbed moon, whose broad impudent face now stares
+at old mother earth all night, shall have shrunk into a modest
+crescent, just peeping forth at dewy dawn, I shall find an hour to
+transcribe for you. _A Dieu je vous commende._
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXXVI.
+
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP.
+
+[That the poet spoke mildly concerning the rebuke which he received
+from the Excise, on what he calls his political delinquencies, his
+letter to Erskine of Mar sufficiently proves.]
+
+_5th January, 1792._
+
+You see my hurried life, Madam: I can only command starts of time;
+however, I am glad of one thing; since I finished the other sheet, the
+political blast that threatened my welfare is overblown. I have
+corresponded with Commissioner Graham, for the board had made me the
+subject of their animadversions; and now I have the pleasure of
+informing you, that all is set to rights in that quarter. Now as to
+these informers, may the devil be let loose to ---- but, hold! I was
+praying most fervently in my last sheet, and I must not so soon fall a
+swearing in this.
+
+Alas! how little do the wantonly or idly officious think what mischief
+they do by their malicious insinuations, indirect impertinence, or
+thoughtless blabbings. What a difference there is in intrinsic worth,
+candour, benevolence, generosity, kindness,--in all the charities and
+all the virtues, between one class of human beings and another! For
+instance, the amiable circle I so lately mixed with in the hospitable
+hall of Dunlop, their generous hearts--their uncontaminated dignified
+minds--their informed and polished understandings--what a contrast,
+when compared--if such comparing were not downright sacrilege--with
+the soul of the miscreant who can deliberately plot the destruction of
+an honest man that never offended him, and with a grin of satisfaction
+see the unfortunate being, his faithful wife, and prattling innocents,
+turned over to beggary and ruin!
+
+Your cup, my dear Madam, arrived safe. I had two worthy fellows dining
+with me the other day, when I, with great formality, produced my
+whigmeeleerie cup, and told them that it had been a family-piece among
+the descendants of William Wallace. This roused such an enthusiasm,
+that they insisted on bumpering the punch round in it; and by and by,
+never did your great ancestor lay a _Suthron_ more completely to rest,
+than for a time did your cup my two friends. Apropos, this is the
+season of wishing. My God bless you, my dear friend, and bless me, the
+humblest and sincerest of your friends, by granting you yet many
+returns of the season! May all good things attend you and yours
+wherever they are scattered over the earth!
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXXVII.
+
+
+TO MR. WILLIAM SMELLIE,
+
+PRINTER.
+
+[When Burns sends his warmest wishes to Smellie, and prays that
+fortune may never place his subsistence at the mercy of a knave, or
+set his character on the judgment of a fool, he had his political
+enemies probably in his mind.]
+
+_Dumfries, 22d January, 1792._
+
+I sit down, my dear Sir, to introduce a young lady to you, and a lady
+in the first ranks of fashion too. What a task! to you--who care no
+more for the herd of animals called young ladies, than you do for the
+herd of animals called young gentlemen. To you--who despise and detest
+the groupings and combinations of fashion, as an idiot painter that
+seems industrious to place staring fools and unprincipled knaves in
+the foreground of his picture, while men of sense and honesty are too
+often thrown in the dimmest shades. Mrs. Riddel, who will take this
+letter to town with her, and send it to you, is a character that, even
+in your own way, as a naturalist and a philosopher, would be an
+acquisition to your acquaintance. The lady, too, is a votary to the
+muses; and as I think myself somewhat of a judge in my own trade, I
+assure you that her verses, always correct, and often elegant, are
+much beyond the common run of the _lady-poetesses_ of the day. She is
+a great admirer of your book; and, hearing me say that I was
+acquainted with you, she begged to be known to you, as she is just
+going to pay her first visit to our Caledonian capital. I told her
+that her best way was, to desire her near relation, and your intimate
+friend, Craigdarroch, to have you at his house while she was there;
+and lest you might think of a lively West Indian girl, of eighteen, as
+girls of eighteen too often deserve to be thought of, I should take
+care to remove that prejudice. To be impartial, however, in
+appreciating the lady's merits, she has one unlucky failing: a failing
+which you will easily discover, as she seems rather pleased with
+indulging in it; and a failing that you will easily pardon, as it is a
+sin which very much besets yourself;--where she dislikes, or despises,
+she is apt to make no more a secret of it, than where she esteems and
+respects.
+
+I will not present you with the unmeaning _compliments of the season_,
+but I will send you my warmest wishes and most ardent prayers, that
+Fortune may never throw your subsistence to the mercy of a Knave, or
+set your character on the judgment of a Fool; but that, upright and
+erect, you may walk to an honest grave, where men of letters shall
+say, here lies a man who did honour to science, and men of worth shall
+say, here lies a man who did honour to human nature.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXXVIII.
+
+
+TO MR. W. NICOL.
+
+[This ironical letter was in answer to one from Nicol, containing
+counsel and reproof.]
+
+_20th February, 1792._
+
+O thou, wisest among the wise, meridian blaze of prudence, full-moon
+of discretion, and chief of many counsellors! How infinitely is thy
+puddle-headed, rattle-headed, wrong-headed, round-headed slave
+indebted to thy supereminent goodness, that from the luminous path of
+thy own right-lined rectitude, thou lookest benignly down on an erring
+wretch, of whom the zig-zag wanderings defy all the powers of
+calculation, from the simple copulation of units, up to the hidden
+mysteries of fluxions! May one feeble ray of that light of wisdom
+which darts from thy sensorium, straight as the arrow of heaven, and
+bright as the meteor of inspiration, may it be my portion, so that I
+may be less unworthy of the face and favour of that father of proverbs
+and master of maxims, that antipode of folly, and magnet among the
+sages, the wise and witty Willie Nicol! Amen! Amen! Yea, so be it!
+
+For me! I am a beast, a reptile, and know nothing! From the cave of my
+ignorance, amid the fogs of my dulness, and pestilential fumes of my
+political heresies, I look up to thee, as doth a toad through the
+iron-barred lucerne of a pestiferous dungeon, to the cloudless glory
+of a summer sun! Sorely sighing in bitterness of soul, I say, when
+shall my name be the quotation of the wise, and my countenance be the
+delight of the godly, like the illustrious lord of Laggan's many
+hills? As for him, his works are perfect: never did the pen of calumny
+blur the fair page of his reputation, nor the bolt of hatred fly at
+his dwelling.
+
+Thou mirror of purity, when shall the elfine lamp of my glimmerous
+understanding, purged from sensual appetites and gross desires, shine
+like the constellation of thy intellectual powers!--As for thee, thy
+thoughts are pure, and thy lips are holy. Never did the unhallowed
+breath of the powers of darkness, and the pleasures of darkness,
+pollute the sacred flame of thy sky-descended and heaven-bound
+desires: never did the vapours of impurity stain the unclouded serene
+of thy cerulean imagination. O that like thine were the tenor of my
+life, like thine the tenor of my conversation! then should no friend
+fear for my strength, no enemy rejoice in my weakness! Then should I
+lie down and rise up, and none to make me afraid.--May thy pity and
+thy prayer be exercised for, O thou lamp of wisdom and mirror of
+morality! thy devoted slave.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXXIX.
+
+
+TO FRANCIS GROSE, ESQ., F.S.A.
+
+[Captain Grose was introduced to Burns, by his brother Antiquary, of
+Friar's Carse: he was collecting materials for his work on the
+Antiquities of Scotland.]
+
+_Dumfries, 1792._
+
+SIR,
+
+I believe among all our Scots Literati you have not met with Professor
+Dugald Stewart, who fills the moral philosophy chair in the University
+of Edinburgh. To say that he is a man of the first parts, and what is
+more, a man of the first worth, to a gentleman of your general
+acquaintance, and who so much enjoys the luxury of unencumbered
+freedom and undisturbed privacy, is not perhaps recommendation
+enough:--but when I inform you that Mr. Stewart's principal
+characteristic is your favourite feature; _that_ sterling independence
+of mind, which, though every man's right, so few men have the courage
+to claim, and fewer still, the magnanimity to support:--when I tell
+you that, unseduced by splendour, and undisgusted by wretchedness, he
+appreciates the merits of the various actors in the great drama of
+life, merely as they perform their parts--in short, he is a man after
+your own heart, and I comply with his earnest request in letting you
+know that he wishes above all things to meet with you. His house,
+Catrine, is within less than a mile of Sorn Castle, which you proposed
+visiting; or if you could transmit him the enclosed, he would with the
+greatest pleasure meet you anywhere in the neighbourhood. I write to
+Ayrshire to inform Mr. Stewart that I have acquitted myself of my
+promise. Should your time and spirits permit your meeting with Mr.
+Stewart, 'tis well; if not, I hope you will forgive this liberty, and
+I have at least an opportunity of assuring you with what truth and
+respect,
+
+I am, Sir,
+
+Your great admirer,
+
+And very humble servant,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXXX.
+
+
+TO FRANCIS GROSE, ESQ., F.S.A.
+
+[This letter, interesting to all who desire to see how a poet works
+beauty and regularity out of a vulgar tradition, was first printed by
+Sir Egerton Brydges, in the "Censura Literaria."]
+
+_Dumfries, 1792._
+
+Among the many witch stories I have heard, relating to Alloway kirk, I
+distinctly remember only two or three.
+
+Upon a stormy night, amid whistling squalls of wind, and bitter blasts
+of hail; in short, on such a night as the devil would choose to take
+the air in; a farmer or farmer's servant was plodding and plashing
+homeward with his plough-irons on his shoulder, having been getting
+some repairs on them at a neighbouring smithy. His way lay by the kirk
+of Alloway, and being rather on the anxious look-out in approaching a
+place so well known to be a favourite haunt of the devil and the
+devil's friends and emissaries, he was struck aghast by discovering
+through the horrors of the storm and stormy night, a light, which on
+his nearer approach plainly showed itself to proceed from the haunted
+edifice. Whether he had been fortified from above, on his devout
+supplication, as is customary with people when they suspect the
+immediate presence of Satan; or whether, according to another custom,
+he had got courageously drunk at the smithy, I will not pretend to
+determine; but so it was that he ventured to go up to, nay, into, the
+very kirk. As luck would have it, his temerity came off unpunished.
+
+The members of the infernal junto were all out on some midnight
+business or other, and he saw nothing but a kind of kettle or caldron,
+depending from the roof, over the fire, simmering some heads of
+unchristened children, limbs of executed malefactors, &c., for the
+business of the night.--It was in for a penny in for a pound, with the
+honest ploughman: so without ceremony he unhooked the caldron from off
+the fire, and pouring out the damnable ingredients, inverted it on his
+head, and carried it fairly home, where it remained long in the
+family, a living evidence of the truth of the story.
+
+Another story, which I can prove to be equally authentic, was as
+follows:
+
+On a market day in the town of Ayr, a farmer from Carrick, and
+consequently whose way lay by the very gate of Alloway kirk-yard, in
+order to cross the river Doon at the old bridge, which is about two or
+three hundred yards farther on than the said gate, had been detained
+by his business, till by the time he reached Alloway it was the wizard
+hour, between night and morning.
+
+Though he was terrified with a blaze streaming from the kirk, yet it
+is a well-known fact that to turn back on these occasions is running
+by far the greatest risk of mischief, he prudently advanced on his
+road. When he had reached the gate of the kirk-yard, he was surprised
+and entertained, through the ribs and arches of an old gothic window,
+which still faces the highway, to see a dance of witches merrily
+footing it round their old sooty blackguard master, who was keeping
+them all alive with the power of his bag-pipe. The farmer stopping his
+horse to observe them a little, could plainly descry the faces of many
+old women of his acquaintance and neighbourhood. How the gentleman was
+dressed tradition does not say; but that the ladies were all in their
+smocks: and one of them happening unluckily to have a smock which was
+considerably too short to answer all the purpose of that piece of
+dress, our farmer was so tickled, that he involuntarily burst out,
+with a loud laugh, "Weel luppen, Maggy wi' the short sark!" and
+recollecting himself, instantly spurred his horse to the top of his
+speed. I need not mention the universally known fact, that no
+diabolical power can pursue you beyond the middle of a running stream.
+Lucky it was for the poor farmer that the river Doon was so near, for
+notwithstanding the speed of his horse, which was a good one, against
+he reached the middle of the arch of the bridge, and consequently the
+middle of the stream, the pursuing, vengeful hags, were so close at
+big heels, that one of them actually sprung to seize him; but it was
+too late, nothing was on her side of the stream, but the horse's tail,
+which immediately gave way at her infernal grip, as if blasted by a
+stroke of lightning; but the farmer was beyond her reach. However, the
+unsightly, tailless condition of the vigorous steed was, to the last
+hour of the noble creature's life, an awful warning to the Carrick
+farmers, not to stay too late in Ayr markets.
+
+The last relation I shall give, though equally true, is not so well
+identified as the two former, with regard to the scene; but as the
+best authorities give it for Alloway, I shall relate it.
+
+On a summer's evening, about the time that nature puts on her sables
+to mourn the expiry of the cheerful day, a shepherd boy, belonging to
+a farmer in the immediate neighbourhood of Alloway kirk, had just
+folded his charge, and was returning home. As he passed the kirk, in
+the adjoining field, he fell in with a crew of men and women, who were
+busy pulling stems of the plant Ragwort. He observed that as each
+person pulled a Ragwort, he or she got astride of it, and called out,
+"Up horsie!" on which the Ragwort flew off, like Pegasus, through the
+air with its rider. The foolish boy likewise pulled his Ragwort, and
+cried with the rest, "Up horsie!" and, strange to tell, away he flew
+with the company. The first stage at which the cavalcade stopt, was a
+merchant's wine-cellar in Bordeaux, where, without saying by your
+leave, they quaffed away at the best the cellar could afford, until
+the morning, foe to the imps and works of darkness, threatened to
+throw light on the matter, and frightened them from their carousals.
+
+The poor shepherd lad, being equally a stranger to the scene and the
+liquor, heedlessly got himself drunk; and when the rest took horse, he
+fell asleep, and was found so next day by some of the people belonging
+to the merchant. Somebody that understood Scotch, asking him what he
+was, he said such-a-one's herd in Alloway, and by some means or other
+getting home again, he lived long to tell the world the wondrous tale.
+
+I am, &c.,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXXXI.
+
+
+TO MR. S. CLARKE,
+
+EDINBURGH.
+
+[This introduction of Clarke, the musician, to the M'Murdo's of
+Drumlanrig, brought to two of the ladies the choicest honours of the
+muse.]
+
+_July 1, 1792._
+
+Mr. Burns begs leave to present his most respectful compliments to Mr.
+Clarke.--Mr. B. some time ago did himself the honour of writing to Mr.
+C. respecting coming out to the country, to give a little musical
+instruction in a highly respectable family, where Mr. C. may have his
+own terms, and may be as happy as indolence, the devil, and the gout
+will permit him. Mr. B. knows well how Mr. C. is engaged with another
+family; but cannot Mr. C. find two or three weeks to spare to each of
+them? Mr. B. is deeply impressed with, and awfully conscious of, the
+high importance of Mr. C.'s time, whether in the winged moments of
+symphonious exhibition, at the keys of harmony, while listening
+seraphs cease their own less delightful strains; or in the drowsy
+arms of slumb'rous repose, in the arms of his dearly beloved
+elbowchair, where the frowsy, but potent power of indolence,
+circumfuses her vapours round, and sheds her dews on the head of her
+darling son. But half a line conveying half a meaning from Mr. C.
+would make Mr. B. the happiest of mortals.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXXXII.
+
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP.
+
+[To enthusiastic fits of admiration for the young and the beautiful,
+such as Burns has expressed in this letter, he loved to give way:--we
+owe some of his best songs to these sallies.]
+
+_Annan Water Foot, 22d August, 1792._
+
+Do not blame me for it, Madam;--my own conscience, hackneyed and
+weather-beaten as it is in watching and reproving my vagaries,
+follies, indolence, &c., has continued to punish me sufficiently.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Do you think it possible, my dear and honoured friend, that I could be
+so lost to gratitude for many favours; to esteem for much worth, and
+to the honest, kind, pleasurably tie of, now old acquaintance, and I
+hope and am sure of progressive, increasing friendship--as for a
+single day, not to think of you--to ask the Fates what they are doing
+and about to do with my much-loved friend and her wide-scattered
+connexions, and to beg of them to be as kind to you and yours as they
+possibly can?
+
+Apropos! (though how it is apropos, I have not leisure to explain,) do
+you not know that I am almost in love with an acquaintance of
+yours?--Almost! said I--I am in love, souse! over head and ears, deep
+as the most unfathomable abyss of the boundless ocean; but the word
+Love, owing to the _intermingledoms_ of the good and the bad, the pure
+and the impure, in this world, being rather an equivocal term for
+expressing one's sentiments and sensations, I must do justice to the
+sacred purity of my attachment. Know, then, that the heart-struck awe;
+the distant humble approach; the delight we should have in gazing upon
+and listening to a messenger of heaven, appearing in all the unspotted
+purity of his celestial home, among the coarse, polluted, far inferior
+sons of men, to deliver to them tidings that make their hearts swim in
+joy, and their imaginations soar in transport--such, so delighting and
+so pure, were the emotions of my soul on meeting the other day with
+Miss Lesley Baillie, your neighbour, at M----. Mr. B. with his two
+daughters, accompanied by Mr. H. of G. passing through Dumfries a few
+days ago, on their way to England, did me the honour of calling on me;
+on which I took my horse (though God knows I could ill spare the
+time), and accompanied them fourteen or fifteen miles, and dined and
+spent the day with them. 'Twas about nine, I think, when I left them,
+and riding home, I composed the following ballad, of which you will
+probably think you have a dear bargain, as it will cost you another
+groat of postage. You must know that there is an old ballad beginning
+with--
+
+    "My bonnie Lizzie Baillie
+    I'll rowe thee in my plaidie, &c."
+
+So I parodied it as follows, which is literally the first copy,
+"unanointed, unanneal'd;" as Hamlet says.--
+
+    O saw ye bonny Lesley
+      As she gaed o'er the border?
+    She's gane like Alexander,
+      To spread her conquests farther.
+
+So much for ballads. I regret that you are gone to the east country,
+as I am to be in Ayrshire in about a fortnight. This world of ours,
+notwithstanding it has many good things in it, yet it has ever had
+this curse, that two or three people, who would be the happier the
+oftener they met together, are, almost without exception, always so
+placed as never to meet but once or twice a-year, which, considering
+the few years of a man's life, is a very great "evil under the sun,"
+which I do not recollect that Solomon has mentioned in his catalogue
+of the miseries of man. I hope and believe that there is a state of
+existence beyond the grave, where the worthy of this life will renew
+their former intimacies, with this endearing addition, that, "we meet
+to part no more!"
+
+             . . . . . . . . . . . .
+                      "Tell us, ye dead,
+    Will none of you in pity disclose the secret,
+    What 'tis you are, and we must shortly be?"
+
+BLAIR
+
+A thousand times have I made this apostrophe to the departed sons of
+men, but not one of them has ever thought fit to answer the question.
+"O that some courteous ghost would blab it out!" but it cannot be; you
+and I, my friend, must make the experiment by ourselves and for
+ourselves. However, I am so convinced that an unshaken faith in the
+doctrines of religion is not only necessary, by making us better men,
+but also by making us happier men, that I should take every care that
+your little godson, and every little creature that shall call me
+father, shall be taught them.
+
+So ends this heterogeneous letter, written at this wild place of the
+world, in the intervals of my labour of discharging a vessel of rum
+from Antigua.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXXXIII.
+
+
+TO MR. CUNNINGHAM.
+
+[There is both bitterness and humour in this letter: the poet
+discourses on many matters, and woman is among them--but he places the
+bottle at his elbow as an antidote against the discourtesy of
+scandal.]
+
+_Dumfries, 10th September, 1792._
+
+No! I will not attempt an apology.--Amid all my hurry of business,
+grinding the faces of the publican and the sinner on the merciless
+wheels of the Excise; making ballads, and then drinking, and singing
+them! and, over and above all, the correcting the press-work of two
+different publications; still, still I might have stolen five minutes
+to dedicate to one of the first of my friends and fellow-creatures. I
+might have done as I do at present, snatched an hour near "witching
+time of night," and scrawled a page or two. I might have congratulated
+my friend on his marriage; or I might have thanked the Caledonian
+archers for the honour they have done me (though, to do myself
+justice, I intended to have done both in rhyme, else I had done both
+long ere now). Well, then, here's to your good health! for you must
+know, I have set a nipperkin of toddy by me, just by way of spell, to
+keep away the meikle horned deil, or any of his subaltern imps who may
+be on their nightly rounds.
+
+But what shall I write to you?--"The voice said cry," and I said,
+"what shall I cry?"--O, thou spirit! whatever thou art, or wherever
+thou makest thyself visible! be thou a bogle by the eerie side of an
+auld thorn, in the dreary glen through which the herd-callan maun
+bicker in his gloamin route frae the faulde!--Be thou a brownie, set,
+at dead of night, to thy task by the blazing ingle, or in the solitary
+barn, where the repercussions of thy iron flail half affright thyself
+as thou performest the work of twenty of the sons of men, ere the
+cock-crowing summon thee to thy ample cog of substantial brose--Be
+thou a kelpie, haunting the ford or ferry, in the starless night,
+mixing thy laughing yell with the howling of the storm and the roaring
+of the flood, as thou viewest the perils and miseries of man on the
+foundering horse, or in the tumbling boat!--or, lastly, be thou a
+ghost, paying thy nocturnal visits to the hoary ruins of decayed
+grandeur; or performing thy mystic rites in the shadow of the
+time-worn church, while the moon looks, without a cloud, on the silent
+ghastly dwellings of the dead around thee! or taking thy stand by the
+bedside of the villain, or the murderer, pourtraying on his dreaming
+fancy, pictures, dreadful as the horrors of unveiled hell, and
+terrible as the wrath of incensed Deity!--Come, thou spirit, but not
+in these horrid forms; come with the milder, gentle, easy
+inspirations, which thou breathest round the wig of a prating
+advocate, or the tete of a tea-sipping gossip, while their tongues run
+at the light-horse gallop of clishmaclaver for ever and ever--come
+and assist a poor devil who is quite jaded in the attempt to share
+half an idea among half a hundred words; to fill up four quarto pages,
+while he has not got one single sentence of recollection, information,
+or remark worth putting pen to paper for.
+
+I feel, I feel the presence of supernatural assistance! circled in the
+embrace of my elbowchair, my breast labours, like the bloated Sybil on
+her three-footed stool, and like her, too, labours with
+Nonsense.--Nonsense, suspicious name! Tutor, friend, and finger-post
+in the mystic mazes of law; the cadaverous paths of physic; and
+particularly in the sightless soarings of SCHOOL DIVINITY,
+who, leaving Common Sense confounded at his strength of pinion,
+Reason, delirious with eyeing his giddy flight; and Truth creeping
+back into the bottom of her well, cursing the hour that ever she
+offered her scorned alliance to the wizard power of Theologic
+Vision--raves abroad on all the winds. "On earth Discord! a gloomy
+Heaven above, opening her jealous gates to the nineteenth thousandth
+part of the tithe of mankind; and below, an inescapable and inexorable
+hell, expanding its leviathan jaws for the vast residue of
+mortals!!!"--O doctrine! comfortable and healing to the weary,
+wounded soul of man! Ye sons and daughters of affliction, ye _pauvres
+miserables_, to whom day brings no pleasure, and night yields no rest,
+be comforted! "'Tis but _one_ to nineteen hundred thousand that your
+situation will mend in this world;" so, alas, the experience of the
+poor and the needy too often affirms; and 'tis nineteen hundred
+thousand sand to _one_, by the dogmas of * * * * * * * * that you will be
+damned eternally in the world to come!
+
+But of all nonsense, religious nonsense is the most nonsensical; so
+enough, and more than enough of it. Only, by the by, will you or can
+you tell me, my dear Cunningham, why a sectarian turn of mind has
+always a tendency to narrow and illiberalize the heart? They are
+orderly; they may be just; nay, I have known them merciful: but still
+your children of sanctity move among their fellow-creatures with a
+nostril-snuffing putrescence, and a foot-spurning filth, in short,
+with a conceited dignity that your titled * * * * * * * * or any other
+of your Scottish lordlings of seven centuries standing, display when
+they accidentally mix among the many-aproned sons of mechanical life. I
+remember, in my plough-boy days, I could not conceive it possible that a
+noble lord could be a fool, or a godly man could be a knave--How
+ignorant are plough-boys!--Nay, I have since discovered that a _godly
+woman_ may be a *****!--But hold--Here's t'ye again--this rum is
+generous Antigua, so a very unfit menstruum for scandal.
+
+Apropos, how do you like, I mean _really_ like, the married life? Ah, my
+friend! matrimony is quite a different thing from what your love-sick
+youths and sighing girls take it to be! But marriage, we are told, is
+appointed by God, and I shall never quarrel with any of his
+institutions. I am a husband of older standing than you, and shall give
+you _my_ ideas of the conjugal state, (_en passant_; you know I am no
+Latinist, is not _conjugal_ derived from _jugum_, a yoke?) Well, then,
+the scale of good wifeship I divide into ten parts:--good-nature, four;
+good sense, two; wit, one; personal charms, viz. a sweet face, eloquent
+eyes, fine limbs, graceful carriage (I would add a fine waist too, but
+that is so soon spoilt you know), all these, one; as for the other
+qualities belonging to, or attending on, a wife, such as fortune,
+connexions, education (I mean education extraordinary) family, blood,
+&c., divide the two remaining degrees among them as you please; only,
+remember that all these minor properties must be expressed by
+_fractions_, for there is not any one of them, in the aforesaid scale,
+entitled to the dignity of an _integer._
+
+As for the rest of my fancies and reveries--how I lately met with Miss
+Lesley Baillie, the most beautiful, elegant woman in the world--how I
+accompanied her and her father's family fifteen miles on their
+journey, out of pure devotion, to admire the loveliness of the works
+of God, in such an unequalled display of them--how, in galloping home
+at night, I made a ballad on her, of which these two stanzas make a
+part--
+
+    Thou, bonny Lesley, art a queen,
+      Thy subjects we before thee;
+    Thou, bonny Lesley, art divine,
+      The hearts o' men adore thee.
+
+    The very deil he could na scathe
+      Whatever wad belang thee!
+    He'd look into thy bonnie face
+      And say, "I canna wrang thee."
+
+--behold all these things are written in the chronicles of my
+imaginations, and shall be read by thee, my dear friend, and by thy
+beloved spouse, my other dear friend, at a more convenient season.
+
+Now, to thee, and to thy before-designed _bosom_-companion, be given
+the precious things brought forth by the sun, and the precious things
+brought forth by the moon, and the benignest influences of the stars,
+and the living streams which flow from the fountains of life, and by
+the tree of life, for ever and ever! Amen!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXXXIV.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[George Thomson, of Edinburgh, principal clerk to the trustees for the
+encouraging the manufactures of Scotland, projected a work, entitled,
+"A select Collection of Original Scottish Airs, for the Voice, to
+which are added introductory and concluding Symphonies and
+Accompaniments for the Pianoforte and Violin, by Pleyel and Kozeluch,
+with select and characteristic Verses, by the most admired Scottish
+Poets." To Burns he applied for help in the verse: he could not find a
+truer poet, nor one to whom such a work was more congenial.]
+
+_Dumfries, 16th Sept. 1792._
+
+SIR,
+
+I have just this moment got your letter. As the request you make to me
+will positively add to my enjoyments in complying with it, I shall
+enter into your undertaking with all the small portion of abilities I
+have, strained to their utmost exertion by the impulse of enthusiasm.
+Only, don't hurry me--"Deil tak the hindmost" is by no means the _cri
+de guerre_ of my muse. Will you, as I am inferior to none of you in
+enthusiastic attachment to the poetry and music of old Caledonia, and,
+since you request it, have cheerfully promised my mite of
+assistance--will you let me have a list of your airs with the first
+line of the printed verses you intend for them, that I may have an
+opportunity of suggesting any alteration that may occur to me? You
+know 'tis in the way of my trade; still leaving you, gentlemen, the
+undoubted right of publishers to approve or reject, at your pleasure,
+for your own publication. Apropos, if you are for English verses,
+there is, on my part, an end of the matter. Whether in the simplicity
+of the Ballad, or the pathos of the song, I can only hope to please
+myself in being allowed at least a sprinkling of our native tongue.
+English verses, particularly the works of Scotsmen, that have merit,
+are certainly very eligible. "Tweedside'" "Ah! the poor shepherd's
+mournful fate!" "Ah! Chloris, could I now but sit," &c., you cannot
+mend;[199] but such insipid stuff as "To Fanny fair could I impart,"
+&c., usually set to "The Mill, Mill, O!" is a disgrace to the
+collections in which it has already appeared, and would doubly
+disgrace a collection that will have the very superior merit of yours.
+But more of this in the further prosecution of the business, if I am
+called on for my strictures and amendments--I say amendments, for I
+will not alter except where I myself, at least, think that I amend.
+
+As to any remuneration, you may think my songs either above or below
+price; for they should absolutely be the one or the other. In the
+honest enthusiasm with which I embark in your undertaking, to talk of
+money, wages, fee, hire, &c., would be downright prostitution of soul!
+a proof of each of the song that I compose or amend, I shall receive
+as a favour. In the rustic phrase of the season, "Gude speed the
+wark!"
+
+I am, Sir,
+
+Your very humble servant,
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 199: "Tweedside" is by Crawfurd; "Ah, the poor shepherd," &c.,
+by Hamilton, of Bangour; "Ah! Chloris," &c., by Sir Charles
+Sedley--Burns has attributed it to Sir Peter Halket, of Pitferran.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXXXV.
+
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP.
+
+[One of the daughters of Mrs. Dunlop was married to M. Henri, a French
+gentleman, who died in 1790, at Loudon Castle, in Ayrshire. The widow
+went with her orphan son to France, and lived for awhile amid the
+dangers of the revolution.]
+
+_Dumfries, 24th September, 1792._
+
+I have this moment, my dear Madam, yours of the twenty-third. All your
+other kind reproaches, your news, &c., are out of my head when I read
+and think on Mrs. H----'s situation. Good God! a heart-wounded helpless
+young woman--in a strange, foreign land, and that land convulsed with
+every horror that can harrow the human feelings--sick--looking, longing
+for a comforter, but finding none--a mother's feelings, too:--but it is
+too much: he who wounded (he only can) may He heal!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I wish the farmer great joy of his new acquisition to his family.
+* * * * * I cannot say that I give him joy of his life as a farmer. 'Tis,
+as a farmer paying a dear, unconscionable rent, a _cursed life_! As to a
+laird farming his own property; sowing his own corn in hope; and reaping
+it, in spite of brittle weather, in gladness; knowing that none can say
+unto him, 'what dost thou?'--fattening his herds; shearing his flocks;
+rejoicing at Christmas; and begetting sons and daughters, until he be
+the venerated, gray-haired leader of a little tribe--'tis a heavenly
+life! but devil take the life of reaping the fruits that another must
+eat.
+
+Well, your kind wishes will be gratified, as to seeing me when I make
+my Ayrshire visit. I cannot leave Mrs. B----, until her nine months'
+race is run, which may perhaps be in three or four weeks. She, too,
+seems determined to make me the patriarchal leader of a band. However,
+if Heaven will be so obliging as to let me have them in the proportion
+of three boys to one girl, I shall be so much the more pleased. I
+hope, if I am spared with them, to show a set of boys that will do
+honour to my cares and name; but I am not equal to the task of rearing
+girls. Besides, I am too poor; a girl should always have a fortune.
+Apropos, your little godson is thriving charmingly, but is a very
+devil. He, though two years younger, has completely mastered his
+brother. Robert is indeed the mildest, gentlest creature I ever saw.
+He has a most surprising memory, and is quite the pride of his
+schoolmaster.
+
+You know how readily we get into prattle upon a subject dear to our
+heart: you can excuse it. God bless you and yours!
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXXXVI.
+
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP.
+
+[This letter has no date: it is supposed to have been written on the
+death of her daughter, Mrs. Henri, whose orphan son, deprived of the
+protection of all his relations, was preserved by the affectionate
+kindness of Mademoiselle Susette, one of the family domestics, and
+after the Revolution obtained the estate of his blood and name.]
+
+I had been from home, and did not receive your letter until my return
+the other day. What shall I say to comfort you, my much-valued,
+much-afflicted friend! I can but grieve with you; consolation I have
+none to offer, except that which religion holds out to the children of
+affliction--_children of affliction!_--how just the expression! and
+like every other family they have matters among them which they hear,
+see, and feel in a serious, all-important manner, of which the world
+has not, nor cares to have, any idea. The world looks indifferently
+on, makes the passing remark, and proceeds to the next novel
+occurrence.
+
+Alas, Madam! who would wish for many years? What is it but to drag
+existence until our joys gradually expire, and leave us in a night of
+misery: like the gloom which blots out the stars one by one, from the
+face of night, and leaves us, without a ray of comfort, in the howling
+waste!
+
+I am interrupted, and must leave off. You shall soon hear from me
+again.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXXXVII.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[Thomson had delivered judgment on some old Scottish songs, but the
+poet murmured against George's decree.]
+
+MY DEAR SIR,
+
+Let me tell you, that you are too fastidious in your ideas of songs
+and ballads. I own that your criticisms are just; the songs you
+specify in your list have, all but one, the faults you remark in them;
+but who shall mend the matter? Who shall rise up and say, "Go to! I
+will make a better?" For instance, on reading over "The Lea-rig," I
+immediately set about trying my hand on it, and, after all, I could
+make nothing more of it than the following, which, Heaven knows, is
+poor enough.
+
+    When o'er the hill the eastern star, &c.[200]
+
+Your observation as to the aptitude of Dr. Percy's ballad to the air,
+"Nannie, O!" is just. It is, besides, perhaps, the most beautiful
+ballad in the English language. But let me remark to you, that in the
+sentiment and style of our Scottish airs, there is a pastoral
+simplicity, a something that one may call the Doric style and dialect
+of vocal music, to which a dash of our native tongue and manners is
+particularly, nay peculiarly, apposite. For this reason, and upon my
+honour, for this reason alone, I am of opinion (but, as I told you
+before, my opinion is yours, freely yours, to approve or reject, as
+you please) that my ballad of "Nannie, O!" might perhaps do for one
+set of verses to the tune. Now don't let it enter into your head, that
+you are under any necessity of taking my verses. I have long ago made
+up my mind as to my own reputation in the business of authorship, and
+have nothing to be pleased or offended at, in your adoption or
+rejection of my verses. Though you should reject one half of what I
+give you, I shall be pleased with your adopting the other half, and
+shall continue to serve you with the same assiduity.
+
+In the printed copy of my "Nannie, O!" the name of the river is
+horribly prosaic.[201] I will alter it:
+
+    Behind yon hills where Lugar flows.
+
+Girvan is the name of the river that suits the idea of the stanza
+best, but Lugar is the most agreeable modulation of syllables.
+
+I will soon give you a great many more remarks on this business; but I
+have just now an opportunity of conveying you this scrawl, free of
+postage, an expense that it is ill able to pay: so, with my best
+compliments to honest Allan, Gude be wi' ye, &c.
+
+_Friday Night._
+
+_Saturday Morning._
+
+As I find I have still an hour to spare this morning before my
+conveyance goes away, I will give you "Nannie, O!" at length.
+
+Your remarks on "Ewe-bughts, Marion," are just; still it has obtained
+a place among our more classical Scottish songs; and what with many
+beauties in its composition, and more prejudices in its favour, you
+will not find it easy to supplant it.
+
+In my very early years, when I was thinking of going to the West
+Indies, I took the following farewell of a dear girl. It is quite
+trifling, and has nothing of the merits of "Ewe-bughts;" but it will
+fill up this page. You must know that all my earlier love-songs were
+the breathings of ardent passion, and though it might have been easy
+in aftertimes to have given them a polish, yet that polish, to me,
+whose they were, and who perhaps alone cared for them, would have
+defaced the legend of my heart, which was so faithfully inscribed on
+them. Their uncouth simplicity was, as they say of wines, their race.
+
+    Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary? &c.[202]
+
+"Gala Water" and "Auld Rob Morris" I think, will most probably be the
+next subject of my musings. However, even on my verses, speak out your
+criticisms with equal frankness. My wish is not to stand aloof, the
+uncomplying bigot of _opiniatrete_, but cordially to join issue with
+you in the furtherance of the work.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 200: Song CLXXVII]
+
+[Footnote 201: It is something worse in the Edinburgh edition--"Behind
+yon hills where Stinchar flows."--Poems, p 322.]
+
+[Footnote 202: Song CLXXIX.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXXXVIII.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[The poet loved to describe the influence which the charms of Miss
+Lesley Baillie exercised over his imagination.]
+
+_November 8th, 1792._
+
+If you mean, my dear Sir, that all the songs in your collection shall
+be poetry of the first merit, I am afraid you will find more
+difficulty in the undertaking than you are aware of. There is a
+peculiar rhythmus in many of our airs, and a necessity of adapting
+syllables to the emphasis, or what I would call the feature-notes of
+the tune, that cramp the poet, and lay him under almost insuperable
+difficulties. For instance, in the air, "My wife's a wanton wee
+thing," if a few lines smooth and pretty can be adapted to it, it is
+all you can expect. The following were made extempore to it; and
+though on further study I might give you something more profound, yet
+it might not suit the light-horse gallop of the air so well as this
+random clink:--
+
+    My wife's a winsome wee thing, &c.[203]
+
+I have just been looking over the "Collier's bonny dochter;" and if
+the following rhapsody, which I composed the other day, on a charming
+Ayrshire girl, Miss Lesley Baillie, as she passed through this place
+to England, will suit your taste better than the "Collier Lassie,"
+fall on and welcome:--
+
+    O, saw ye bonny Lesley? &c.[204]
+
+I have hitherto deferred the sublimer, more pathetic airs, until more
+leisure, as they will take, and deserve, a greater effort. However,
+they are all put into your hands, as clay into the hands of the
+potter, to make one vessel to honour, and another to dishonour.
+Farewell, &c.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 203: Song CLXXX.]
+
+[Footnote 204: Song CLXXXI.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXXXIX.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[The story of Mary Campbell's love is related in the notes on the
+songs which the poet wrote in her honour. Thomson says, in his answer,
+"I have heard the sad story of your Mary; you always seem inspired
+when you write of her."]
+
+_14th November, 1792._
+
+MY DEAR SIR,
+
+I agree with you that the song, "Katherine Ogie," is very poor stuff,
+and unworthy, altogether unworthy of so beautiful an air. I tried to
+mend it; but the awkward sound, Ogie, recurring so often in the rhyme,
+spoils every attempt at introducing sentiment into the piece. The
+foregoing song[205] pleases myself; I think it as in my happiest manner:
+you will see at first glance that it suits the air. The subject of the
+song is one of the most interesting passages of my youthful days, and I
+own that I should be much flattered to see the verses set to an air
+which would ensure celebrity. Perhaps, after all, 'tis the still glowing
+prejudice of my heart that throws a borrowed lustre over the merits of
+the composition.
+
+I have partly taken your idea of "Auld Rob Morris." I have adopted the
+two first verses, and am going on with the song on a new plan, which
+promises pretty well. I take up one or another, just as the bee of the
+moment buzzes in my bonnet-lug; and do you, _sans ceremonie_, make
+what use you choose of the productions.
+
+Adieu, &c.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 205:
+
+    Ye banks and braes and streams around
+    The castle o' Montgomery.
+
+Song CLXXXII]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXL.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[The poet approved of several emendations proposed by Thomson, whose
+wish was to make the words flow more readily with the music: he
+refused, however, to adopt others, where he thought too much of the
+sense was sacrificed.]
+
+_Dumfries, 1st December, 1792._
+
+Your alterations of my "Nannie, O!" are perfectly right. So are those
+of "My wife's a winsome wee thing." Your alteration of the second
+stanza is a positive improvement. Now, my dear Sir, with the freedom
+which characterizes our correspondence, I must not, cannot alter
+"Bonnie Lesley." You are right; the word "Alexander" makes the line a
+little uncouth, but I think the thought is pretty. Of Alexander,
+beyond all other heroes, it may be said, in the sublime language of
+Scripture, that "he went forth conquering and to conquer."
+
+    For nature made her what she is,
+    And never made anither. (Such a person as she is.)
+
+This is, in my opinion, more poetical than "Ne'er made sic anither."
+However, it is immaterial: make it either way. "Caledonie," I agree
+with you, is not so good a word as could be wished, though it is
+sanctioned in three or four instances by Allan Ramsay; but I cannot
+help it. In short, that species of stanza is the most difficult that I
+have ever tried.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXLI.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[Duncan Gray, which this letter contained, became a favourite as soon
+as it was published, and the same may be said of Auld Rob Morris.]
+
+_4th December, 1792._
+
+The foregoing ["Auld Rob Morris," and "Duncan Gray,"[206]] I submit, my
+dear Sir, to your better judgment. Acquit them or condemn them, as
+seemeth good in your sight. "Duncan Gray" is that kind of light-horse
+gallop of an air, which precludes sentiment. The ludicrous is its
+ruling feature.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 206: Songs CLXXXIII. and CLXXXIV.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXLII.
+
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP.
+
+[Burns often discourses with Mrs. Dunlop on poetry and poets: the
+dramas of Thomson, to which he alludes, are stiff, cold compositions.]
+
+_Dumfries, 6th December, 1792._
+
+I shall be in Ayrshire, I think, next week; and, if at all possible, I
+shall certainly, my much-esteemed friend, have the pleasure of
+visiting at Dunlop-house.
+
+Alas, Madam! how seldom do we meet in this world, that we have reason
+to congratulate ourselves on accessions of happiness! I have not
+passed half the ordinary term of an old man's life, and yet I scarcely
+look over the obituary of a newspaper, that I do not see some names
+that I have known, and which I, and other acquaintances, little
+thought to meet with there so soon. Every other instance of the
+mortality of our kind, makes us cast an anxious look into the dreadful
+abyss of uncertainty, and shudder with apprehension for our own fate.
+But of how different an importance are the lives of different
+individuals? Nay, of what importance is one period of the same life,
+more than another? A few years ago, I could have laid down in the
+dust, "careless of the voice of the morning;" and now not a few, and
+these most helpless individuals, would, on losing me and my exertions,
+lose both their "staff and shield." By the way, these helpless ones
+have lately got an addition; Mrs. B---- having given me a fine girl
+since I wrote you. There is a charming passage in Thomson's "Edward
+and Eleonora:"
+
+    "The valiant _in himself_, what can he suffer?
+    Or what need he regard his _single_ woes?" &c.
+
+As I am got in the way of quotations, I shall give you another from
+the same piece, peculiarly, alas! too peculiarly apposite, my dear
+Madam, to your present frame of mind:
+
+    "Who so unworthy but may proudly deck him
+    With his fair-weather virtue, that exults
+    Glad o'er the summer main! the tempest comes,
+    The rough winds rage aloud; when from the helm,
+    This virtue shrinks, and in a corner lies
+    Lamenting--Heavens! if privileged from trial,
+    How cheap a thing were virtue?"
+
+I do not remember to have heard you mention Thomson's dramas. I pick
+up favourite quotations, and store them in my mind as ready armour,
+offensive or defensive, amid the struggle of this turbulent existence.
+Of these is one, a very favourite one, from his "Alfred:"
+
+    "Attach thee firmly to the virtuous deeds
+    And offices of life; to life itself,
+    With all its vain and transient joys, sit loose."
+
+Probably I have quoted some of these to you formerly, as indeed when I
+write from the heart, I am apt to be guilty of such repetitions. The
+compass of the heart, in the musical style of expression, is much more
+bounded than that of the imagination; so the notes of the former are
+extremely apt to run into one another; but in return for the paucity
+of its compass, its few notes are much more sweet. I must still give
+you another quotation, which I am almost sure I have given you before,
+but I cannot resist the temptation. The subject is religion--speaking
+of its importance to mankind, the author says,
+
+    "'Tis this, my friend, that streaks our morning bright."
+
+I see you are in for double postage, so I shall e'en scribble out
+t'other sheet. We, in this country here, have many alarms of the
+reforming, or rather the republican spirit, of your part of the
+kingdom. Indeed we are a good deal in commotion ourselves. For me, I
+am a placeman, you know; a very humble one indeed, Heaven knows, but
+still so much as to gag me. What my private sentiments are, you will
+find out without an interpreter.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I have taken up the subject, and the other day, for a pretty actress's
+benefit night, I wrote an address, which I will give on the other
+page, called "The rights of woman:"
+
+    "While Europe's eye is fixed on mighty things."
+
+I shall have the honour of receiving your criticisms in person at
+Dunlop.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXLIII.
+
+
+TO R. GRAHAM, ESQ.,
+
+FINTRAY.
+
+[Graham stood by the bard in the hour of peril recorded in this
+letter: and the Board of Excise had the generosity to permit him to
+eat its "bitter bread" for the remainder of his life.]
+
+_December, 1792._
+
+SIR,
+
+I have been surprised, confounded, and distracted by Mr. Mitchell, the
+collector, telling me that he has received an order from your Board to
+inquire into my political conduct, and blaming me as a person
+disaffected to government.
+
+Sir, you are a husband--and a father.--You know what you would feel,
+to see the much-loved wife of your bosom, and your helpless, prattling
+little ones, turned adrift into the world, degraded and disgraced from
+a situation in which they had been respectable and respected, and left
+almost without the necessary support of a miserable existence. Alas,
+Sir! must I think that such, soon, will be my lot! and from the
+d--mned, dark insinuations of hellish, groundless envy too! I believe,
+Sir, I may aver it, and in the sight of Omniscience, that I would not
+tell a deliberate falsehood, no, not though even worse horrors, if
+worse can be, than those I have mentioned, hung over my head; and I
+say, that the allegation, whatever villain has made it, is a lie! To
+the British constitution on Revolution principles, next after my God,
+I am most devoutly attached; you, Sir, have been much and generously
+my friend.--Heaven knows how warmly I have felt the obligation, and
+how gratefully I have thanked you.--Fortune, Sir, has made you
+powerful, and me impotent; has given you patronage, and me
+dependence.--I would not for my single self, call on your humanity;
+were such my insular, unconnected situation, I would despise the tear
+that now swells in my eye--I could brave misfortune, I could face
+ruin; for at the worst, "Death's thousand doors stand open;" but, good
+God! the tender concerns that I have mentioned, the claims and ties
+that I see at this moment, and feel around me, how they unnerve
+courage, and wither resolution! To your patronage, as a man of some
+genius, you have allowed me a claim; and your esteem, as an honest
+man, I know is my due: to these, Sir, permit me to appeal; by these
+may I adjure you to save me from that misery which threatens to
+overwhelm me, and which, with my latest breath I will say it, I have
+not deserved.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXLIV.
+
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP.
+
+[Burns was ordered, he says, to mind his duties in the Excise, and to
+hold his tongue about politics--the latter part of the injunction was
+hard to obey, for at that time politics were in every mouth.]
+
+_Dumfries, 31st December, 1792._
+
+DEAR MADAM,
+
+A hurry of business, thrown in heaps by my absence, has until now
+prevented my returning my grateful acknowledgments to the good family
+of Dunlop, and you in particular, for that hospitable kindness which
+rendered the four days I spent under that genial roof, four of the
+pleasantest I ever enjoyed.--Alas, my dearest friend! how few and
+fleeting are those things we call pleasures! on my road to Ayrshire, I
+spent a night with a friend whom I much valued; a man whose days
+promised to be many; and on Saturday last we laid him in the dust!
+
+_Jan. 2, 1793._
+
+I have just received yours of the 30th, and feel much for your
+situation. However, I heartily rejoice in your prospect of recovery
+from that vile jaundice. As to myself, I am better, though not quite
+free of my complaint.--You must not think, as you seem to insinuate,
+that in my way of life I want exercise. Of that I have enough; but
+occasional hard drinking is the devil to me. Against this I have again
+and again bent my resolution, and have greatly succeeded. Taverns I
+have totally abandoned: it is the private parties in the family way,
+among the hard-drinking gentlemen of this country, that do me the
+mischief--but even this I have more than half given over.
+
+Mr. Corbet can be of little service to me at present; at least I
+should be shy of applying. I cannot possibly be settled as a
+supervisor, for several years. I must wait the rotation of the list,
+and there are twenty names before mine. I might indeed get a job of
+officiating, where a settled supervisor was ill, or aged; but that
+hauls me from my family, as I could not remove them on such an
+uncertainty. Besides, some envious, malicious devil, has raised a
+little demur on my political principles, and I wish to let that matter
+settle before I offer myself too much in the eye of my supervisors. I
+have set, henceforth, a seal on my lips, as to these unlucky politics;
+but to you I must breathe my sentiments. In this, as in everything
+else, I shall show the undisguised emotions of my soul. War I
+deprecate: misery and ruin to thousands are in the blast that
+announces the destructive demon.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXLV.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[The songs to which the poet alludes were "Poortith Cauld," and "Galla
+Water."]
+
+_Jan. 1793._
+
+Many returns of the season to you, my dear Sir. How comes on your
+publication?--will these two foregoing [Songs CLXXXV. and
+CLXXXVI.] be of any service to you? I should like to know
+what songs you print to each tune, besides the verses to which it is
+set. In short, I would wish to give you my opinion on all the poetry
+you publish. You know it is my trade, and a man in the way of his
+trade may suggest useful hints that escape men of much superior parts
+and endowments in other things.
+
+If you meet with my dear and much-valued Cunningham, greet him, in my
+name, with the compliments of the season.
+
+Yours, &c.,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXLVI.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[Thomson explained more fully than at first the plan of his
+publication, and stated that Dr. Beattie had promised an essay on
+Scottish music, by way of an introduction to the work.]
+
+_26th January, 1793._
+
+I approve greatly, my dear Sir, of your plans. Dr. Beattie's essay
+will, of itself, be a treasure. On my part I mean to draw up an
+appendix to the Doctor's essay, containing my stock of anecdotes, &c.,
+of our Scots songs. All the late Mr. Tytler's anecdotes I have by me,
+taken down in the course of my acquaintance with him, from his own
+mouth. I am such an enthusiast, that in the course of my several
+peregrinations through Scotland, I made a pilgrimage to the individual
+spot from which every song took its rise, "Lochaber" and the "Braes of
+Ballenden" excepted. So far as the locality, either from the title of
+the air, or the tenor of the song, could be ascertained, I have paid
+my devotions at the particular shrine of every Scots muse.
+
+I do not doubt but you might make a very valuable collection of
+Jacobite songs; but would it give no offence? In the meantime, do not
+you think that some of them, particularly "The sow's tail to Geordie,"
+as an air, with other words, might be well worth a place in your
+collection of lively songs?
+
+If it were possible to procure songs of merit, it would be proper to
+have one set of Scots words to every air, and that the set of words to
+which the notes ought to be set. There is a _naviete_, a pastoral
+simplicity, in a slight intermixture of Scots words and phraseology,
+which is more in unison (at least to my taste, and, I will add, to
+every genuine Caledonian taste) with the simple pathos, or rustic
+sprightliness of our native music, than any English verses whatever.
+
+The very name of Peter Pindar is an acquisition to your work. His
+"Gregory" is beautiful. I have tried to give you a set of stanzas in
+Scots, on the same subject, which are at your service. Not that I
+intend to enter the lists with Peter--that would be presumption
+indeed. My song, though much inferior in poetic merit, has, I think,
+more of the ballad simplicity in it.
+
+[Here follows "Lord Gregory." Song CLXXXVII.]
+
+My most respectful compliments to the honourable gentleman who
+favoured me with a postscript in your last. He shall hear from me and
+receive his MSS. soon.
+
+Yours,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXLVII.
+
+
+TO MR. CUNNINGHAM.
+
+[The seal, with the coat-of-arms which the poet invented, is still in
+the family, and regarded as a relique.]
+
+_3d March, 1793._
+
+Since I wrote to you the last lugubrious sheet, I have not had time to
+write you further. When I say that I had not time, that as usual
+means, that the three demons, indolence, business, and ennui, have so
+completely shared my hours among them, as not to leave me a five
+minutes' fragment to take up a pen in.
+
+Thank heaven, I feel my spirits buoying upwards with the renovating
+year. Now I shall in good earnest take up Thomson's songs. I dare say
+he thinks I have used him unkindly, and I must own with too much
+appearance of truth. Apropos, do you know the much admired old
+Highland air called "The Sutor's Dochter?" It is a first-rate
+favourite of mine, and I have written what I reckon one of my best
+songs to it. I will send it to you as it was sung with great applause
+in some fashionable circles by Major Roberston, of Lude, who was here
+with his corps.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There is one commission that I must trouble you with. I lately lost a
+valuable seal, a present from a departed friend which vexes me much.
+
+I have gotten one of your Highland pebbles, which I fancy would make a
+very decent one; and I want to cut my armorial bearing on it; will you
+be so obliging as inquire what will be the expense of such a business?
+I do not know that my name is matriculated, as the heralds call it, at
+all; but I have invented arms for myself, so you know I shall be chief
+of the name; and, by courtesy of Scotland, will likewise be entitled
+to supporters. These, however, I do not intend having on my seal. I am
+a bit of a herald, and shall give you, _secundum artem_, my arms. On a
+field, azure, a holly-bush, seeded, proper, in base; a shepherd's pipe
+and crook, saltier-wise, also proper in chief. On a wreath of the
+colours, a wood lark perching on a sprig of bay-tree, proper, for
+crest. Two mottos; round the top of the crest, _Wood-notes wild_: at
+the bottom of the shield, in the usual place, _Better a wee bush than
+nae bield._ By the shepherd's pipe and crook I do not mean the
+nonsense of painters of Arcadia, but a _stock and horn_, and a _club_,
+such as you see at the head of Allan Ramsay, in Allan's quarto edition
+of the _Gentle Shepherd._ By the bye, do you know Allan? He must be a
+man of very great genius--Why is he not more known?--Has he no
+patrons? or do "Poverty's cold wind and crushing rain beat keen and
+heavy" on him! I once, and but once, got a glance of that noble
+edition of the noblest pastoral in the world; and dear as it was, I
+mean dear as to my pocket, I would have bought it; but I was told
+that it was printed and engraved for subscribers only. He is the
+_only_ artist who has hit _genuine_ pastoral _costume._ What, my dear
+Cunningham, is there in riches, that they narrow and harden the heart
+so? I think, that were I as rich as the sun, I should be as generous
+as the day; but as I have no reason to imagine my soul a nobler one
+than any other man's, I must conclude that wealth imparts a bird-lime
+quality to the possessor, at which the man, in his native poverty,
+would have revolted. What has led me to this, is the idea, of such
+merit as Mr. Allan possesses, and such riches us a nabob or government
+contractor possesses, and why they do not form a mutual league. Let
+wealth shelter and cherish unprotected merit, and the gratitude and
+celebrity of that merit will richly repay it.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXLVIII.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[Burns in these careless words makes us acquainted with one of his
+sweetest songs.]
+
+_20th March, 1793._
+
+MY DEAR SIR,
+
+The song prefixed ["Mary Morison"[207]] is one of my juvenile works. I
+leave it in your hands. I do not think it very remarkable, either for
+its merits or demerits. It is impossible (at least I feel it so in my
+stinted powers) to be always original, entertaining, and witty.
+
+What is become of the list, &c., of your songs? I shall be out of all
+temper with you, by and bye. I have always looked on myself as the
+prince of indolent correspondence, and valued myself accordingly; and
+I will not, cannot, bear rivalship from you, nor anybody else.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 207: Song CLXXXVIII.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXLIX.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[For the "Wandering Willie" of this communication Thomson offered
+several corrections.]
+
+_March, 1793._
+
+    Here awa, there awa, wandering Willie,
+      Now tired with wandering, haud awa hame;
+    Come to my bosom, my ae only dearie,
+      And tell me thou bring'st me my Willie the same.
+
+    Loud blew the cauld winter winds at our parting;
+      It was na the blast brought the tear in my e'e;
+    Now welcome the simmer, and welcome my Willie,
+      The simmer to nature, my Willie to me.
+
+    Ye hurricanes, rest in the cave o' your slumbers!
+      Oh how your wild horrors a lover alarms!
+    Awaken, ye breezes! blow gently, ye billows!
+      And waft my dear laddie ance mair to my arms.
+
+    But if he's forgotten his faithfulest Nannie,
+      O still flow between us, thou wide, roaring main;
+    May I never see it, may I never trow it,
+      But, dying, believe that my Willie's my ain!
+
+I leave it to you, my dear Sir, to determine whether the above, or the
+old "Thro' the lang muir I have followed my Willie," be the best.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCL.
+
+
+TO MISS BENSON.
+
+[Miss Benson, when this letter was written, was on a visit to
+Arbigland, the beautiful seat of Captain Craik; she is now Mrs. Basil
+Montagu.]
+
+_Dumfries, 21st March, 1793._
+
+MADAM,
+
+Among many things for which I envy those hale, long-lived old fellows
+before the flood, is this in particular, that when they met with
+anybody after their own heart, they had a charming long prospect of
+many, many happy meetings with them in after-life.
+
+Now in this short, stormy, winter day of our fleeting existence, when
+you now and then, in the Chapter of Accidents, meet an individual
+whose acquaintance is a real acquisition, there are all the
+probabilities against you, that you shall never meet with that valued
+character more. On the other hand, brief as this miserable being is,
+it is none of the least of the miseries belonging to it, that if there
+is any miscreant whom you hate, or creature whom you despise, the
+ill-run of the chances shall be so against you, that in the
+overtakings, turnings, and jostlings of life, pop, at some unlucky
+corner, eternally comes the wretch upon you, and will not allow your
+indignation or contempt a moment's repose. As I am a sturdy believer
+in the powers of darkness, I take these to be the doings of that old
+author of mischief, the devil. It is well-known that he has some kind
+of short-hand way of taking down our thoughts, and I make no doubt he
+is perfectly acquainted with my sentiments respecting Miss Benson: how
+much I admired her abilities and valued her worth, and how very
+fortunate I thought myself in her acquaintance. For this last reason,
+my dear Madam, I must entertain no hopes of the very great pleasure of
+meeting with you again.
+
+Miss Hamilton tells me that she is sending a packet to you, and I beg
+leave to send you the enclosed sonnet, though, to tell you the real
+truth, the sonnet is a mere pretence, that I may have the opportunity
+of declaring with how much respectful esteem I have the honour to be,
+&c.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLI.
+
+
+TO PATRICK MILLER, ESQ.,
+
+OF DALSWINTON.
+
+[The time to which Burns alludes was the period of his occupation of
+Ellisland.]
+
+_Dumfries, April, 1793._
+
+SIR,
+
+My poems having just come out in another edition, will you do me the
+honour to accept of a copy? A mark of my gratitude to you, as a
+gentleman to whose goodness I have been much indebted; of my respect
+for you, as a patriot who, in a venal, sliding age, stands forth the
+champion of the liberties of my country; and of my veneration for you,
+as a man, whose benevolence of heart does honour to human nature.
+
+There _was_ a time, Sir, when I was your dependent: this language
+_then_ would have been like the vile incense of flattery--I could not
+have used it. Now that connexion is at an end, do me the honour to
+accept this _honest_ tribute of respect from, Sir,
+
+Your much indebted humble servant,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLII.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[This review of our Scottish lyrics is well worth the attention of all
+who write songs, read songs, or sing songs.]
+
+_7th April, 1793._
+
+Thank you, my dear Sir, for your packet. You cannot imagine how much
+this business of composing for your publication has added to my
+enjoyments. What with my early attachment to ballads, your book, &c.,
+ballad-making is now as completely my hobby-horse as ever
+fortification was Uncle Toby's; so I'll e'en canter it away till I
+come to the limit of my race--God grant that I may take the right side
+of the winning post!--and then cheerfully looking back on the honest
+folks with whom I have been happy, I shall say or sing, "Sae merry as
+we a' hae been!" and, raising my last looks to the whole human race,
+the last words of the voice of "Coila"[208] shall be, "Good night, and
+joy be wi' you a'!" So much for my last words: now for a few present
+remarks, as they have occurred at random, on looking over your list.
+
+The first lines of "The last time I came o'er the moor," and several
+other lines in it, are beautiful; but, in my opinion--pardon me,
+revered shade of Ramsay!--the song is unworthy of the divine air. I
+shall try to make or mend.
+
+"For ever, Fortune, wilt thou prove,"[209] is a charming song; but "Logan
+burn and Logan braes" is sweetly susceptible of rural imagery; I'll
+try that likewise, and, if I succeed, the other song may class among
+the English ones. I remember the two last lines of a verse in some of
+the old songs of "Logan Water" (for I know a good many different ones)
+which I think pretty:--
+
+    "Now my dear lad maun faces his faes,
+    Far, far frae me and Logan braes."[210]
+
+"My Patie is a lover gay," is unequal. "His mind is never muddy," is a
+muddy expression indeed.
+
+    "Then I'll resign and marry Pate,
+    And syne my cockernony--"
+
+This is surely far unworthy of Ramsay or your book. My song, "Rigs of
+barley," to the same tune, does not altogether please me; but if I can
+mend it, and thrash a few loose sentiments out of it, I will submit
+it to your consideration. "The lass o' Patie's mill" is one of
+Ramsay's best songs; but there is one loose sentiment in it, which my
+much-valued friend Mr. Erskine will take into his critical
+consideration. In Sir John Sinclair's statistical volumes, are two
+claims--one, I think from Aberdeenshire, and the other from
+Ayrshire--for the honour of this song. The following anecdote, which I
+had from the present Sir William Cunningham of Robertland, who had it
+of the late John, Earl of Loudon, I can, on such authorities, believe:
+
+Allan Ramsay was residing at Loudon-castle with the then Earl, father
+to Earl John; and one forenoon, riding or walking, out together, his
+lordship and Allan passed a sweet romantic spot on Irvine water, still
+called "Patie's mill," where a bonnie lass was "tedding hay,
+bare-headed on the green." My lord observed to Allan, that it would be
+a fine theme for a song. Ramsay took the hint, and, lingering behind,
+he composed the first sketch of it, which he produced at dinner.
+
+"One day I heard Mary say,"[211] is a fine song; but, for consistency's
+sake, alter the name "Adonis." Were there ever such banns published,
+as a purpose of marriage between Adonis and Mary! I agree with you
+that my song, "There's nought but care on every hand," is much
+superior to "Poortith cauld." The original song, "The mill, mill,
+O!"[212] though excellent, is, on account of delicacy, inadmissible;
+still I like the title, and think a Scottish song would suit the notes
+best; and let your chosen song, which is very pretty, follow as an
+English set. "The Banks of the Dee" is, you know, literally
+"Langolee," to slow time. The song is well enough, but has some false
+imagery in it: for instance,
+
+    "And sweetly the nightingale sang from the tree."
+
+In the first place, the nightingale sings in a low bush, but never
+from a tree; and in the second place, there never was a nightingale
+seen or heard on the banks of the Dee, or on the banks of any other
+river in Scotland. Exotic rural imagery is always comparatively
+flat.[213] If I could hit on another stanza, equal to "The small birds
+rejoice," &c., I do myself honestly avow, that I think it a superior
+song.[214] "John Anderson, my jo"--the song to this tune in Johnson's
+Museum, is my composition, and I think it not my worst:[215] if it suit
+you, take it, and welcome. Your collection of sentimental and pathetic
+songs, is, in my opinion, very complete; but not so your comic ones.
+Where are "Tullochgorum," "Lumps o' puddin," "Tibbie Fowler," and
+several others, which, in my humble judgment, are well worthy of
+preservation? There is also one sentimental song of mine in the
+Museum, which never was known out of the immediate neighbourhood,
+until I got it taken down from a country girl's singing. It is called
+"Craigieburn wood," and, in the opinion of Mr. Clarke, is one of the
+sweetest Scottish songs. He is quite an enthusiast about it; and I
+would take his taste in Scottish music against the taste of most
+connoisseurs.
+
+You are quite right in inserting the last five in your list, though
+they are certainly Irish. "Shepherds, I have lost my love!" is to me a
+heavenly air--what would you think of a set of Scottish verses to it?
+I have made one to it a good while ago, which I think * * *, but in
+its original state it is not quite a lady's song. I enclose an
+altered, not amended copy for you,[216] if you choose to set the tune to
+it, and let the Irish verses follow.
+
+Mr. Erskine's songs are all pretty, but his "Lone-vale"[217] is divine.
+
+Yours, &c.
+
+R. B.
+
+Let me know just how you like these random hints.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 208: Burns here calls himself the "Voice of Coila," in
+imitation of Ossian, who denominates himself the "Voice of
+Cona."--CURRIE.]
+
+[Footnote 209: By Thomson, not the musician, but the poet.]
+
+[Footnote 210: This song is not old; its author, the late John Mayne,
+long outlived Burns]
+
+[Footnote 211: By Crawfurd.]
+
+[Footnote 212: By Ramsay.]
+
+[Footnote 213: The author, John Tait, a writer to the Signet and some
+time Judge of the police-court in Edinburgh, assented to this, and
+altered the line to,
+
+    "And sweetly the wood-pigeon cooed from the tree."]
+
+[Footnote 214: Song CXXXIX.]
+
+[Footnote 215: Song LXXX.]
+
+[Footnote 216: Song CLXXVII.]
+
+[Footnote 217:
+
+    "How sweet this lone vale, and how soothing to feeling,
+    Yon nightingale's notes which in melody meet."
+
+The song has found its way into several collections.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLIII.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[The letter to which this is in part an answer, Currie says, contains
+many observations on Scottish songs, and on the manner of adapting the
+words to the music, which at Mr. Thomson's desire are suppressed.]
+
+_April, 1793._
+
+I have yours, my dear Sir, this moment. I shall answer it and your
+former letter, in my desultory way of saying whatever comes
+uppermost.
+
+The business of many of our tunes wanting, at the beginning, what
+fiddlers call a starting-note, is often a rub to us poor rhymers.
+
+    "There's braw, braw lads on Yarrow braes,
+    That wander through the blooming heather,"
+
+you may alter to
+
+    "Braw, braw lads on Yarrow braes,
+    Ye wander," &c.
+
+My song, "Here awa, there awa," as amended by Mr. Erskine, I entirely
+approve of, and return you.
+
+Give me leave to criticise your taste in the only thing in which it
+is, in my opinion, reprehensible. You know I ought to know something
+of my own trade. Of pathos, sentiment, and point, you are a complete
+judge; but there is a quality more necessary than either in a song,
+and which is the very essence of a ballad--I mean simplicity: now, if
+I mistake not, this last feature you are a little apt to sacrifice to
+the foregoing.
+
+Ramsay, as every other poet, has not been always equally happy in his
+pieces; still I cannot approve of taking such liberties with an author
+as Mr. Walker proposes doing with "The last time I came o'er the
+moor." Let a poet, if he choose, take up the idea of another, and work
+it into a piece of his own; but to mangle the works of the poor bard,
+whose tuneful tongue is now mute for ever, in the dark and narrow
+house--by Heaven, 'twould be sacrilege! I grant that Mr. W.'s version
+is an improvement; but I know Mr. W. well, and esteem him much; let
+him mend the song, as the Highlander mended his gun--he gave it a new
+stock, a new lock, and a new barrel.
+
+I do not, by this, object to leaving out improper stanzas, where that
+can be done without spoiling the whole. One stanza in "The lass o'
+Patie's mill" must be left out: the song will be nothing worse for it.
+I am not sure if we can take the same liberty with "Corn rigs are
+bonnie." Perhaps it might want the last stanza, and be the better for
+it. "Cauld kail in Aberdeen," you must leave with me yet awhile. I
+have vowed to have a song to that air, on the lady whom I attempted to
+celebrate in the verses, "Poortith cauld and restless love." At any
+rate, my other song, "Green grow the rashes," will never suit. That
+song is current in Scotland under the old title, and to the merry old
+tune of that name, which, of course, would mar the progress of your
+song to celebrity. Your book will be the standard of Scots songs for
+the future: let this idea ever keep your judgment on the alarm.
+
+I send a song on a celebrated toast in this country, to suit "Bonnie
+Dundee." I send you also a ballad to the "Mill, mill, O!"[218]
+
+"The last time I came o'er the moor," I would fain attempt to make a
+Scots song for, and let Ramsay's be the English set. You shall hear
+from me soon. When you go to London on this business, can you come by
+Dumfries? I have still several MS. Scots airs by me, which I have
+picked up, mostly from the singing of country lasses. They please me
+vastly; but your learned _lugs_ would perhaps be displeased with the
+very feature for which I like them. I call them simple; you would
+pronounce them silly. Do you know a fine air called "Jackie Hume's
+Lament?" I have a song of considerable merit to that air. I'll enclose
+you both the song and tune, as I had them ready to send to Johnson's
+Museum.[219] I send you likewise, to me, a beautiful little air, which I
+had taken down from _viva voce._[220]
+
+Adieu.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 218: Songs CXCII. and CXCIII.]
+
+[Footnote 219: Song CXCIV.]
+
+[Footnote 220: Song CXCVIII.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLIV.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[Thomson, it would appear by his answer to this letter, was at issue
+with Burns on the subject-matter of simplicity: the former seems to
+have desired a sort of diplomatic and varnished style: the latter felt
+that elegance and simplicity were "sisters twin."]
+
+_April, 1793._
+
+MY DEAR SIR,
+
+I had scarcely put my last letter into the post-office, when I took up
+the subject of "The last time I came o'er the moor," and ere I slept
+drew the outlines of the foregoing.[221] How I have succeeded, I leave
+on this, as on every other occasion, to you to decide. I own my vanity
+is flattered, when you give my songs a place in your elegant and superb
+work; but to be of service to the work is my first wish. As I have often
+told you, I do not in a single instance wish you, out of compliment to
+me, to insert anything of mine. One hint let me give you--whatever Mr.
+Pleyel does, let him not alter one iota of the original Scottish airs, I
+mean in the song department, but let our national music preserve its
+native features. They are, I own, frequently wild and irreducible to the
+more modern rules; but on that very eccentricity, perhaps, depends a
+great part of their effect.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 221: Song CCXXXIV.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLV.
+
+
+TO JOHN FRANCIS ERSKINE, ESQ.,
+
+OF M A R.
+
+[This remarkable letter has been of late the subject of some
+controversy: Mr. Findlater, who happened then to be in the Excise, is
+vehement in defence of the "honourable board," and is certain that
+Burns has misrepresented the conduct of his very generous masters. In
+answer to this it has been urged that the word of the poet has in no
+other thing been questioned: that in the last moments of his life, he
+solemnly wrote this letter into his memorandum-book, and that the
+reproof of Mr. Corbet, is given by him either as a quotation from a
+paper or an exact recollection of the words used: the expressions,
+"_not to think_" and be "_silent_ and _obedient_" are underlined.]
+
+_Dumfries, 13th April, 1793._
+
+SIR,
+
+Degenerate as human nature is said to be, and in many instances,
+worthless and unprincipled it is, still there are bright examples to
+the contrary; examples that even in the eyes of superior beings, must
+shed a lustre on the name of man.
+
+Such an example have I now before me, when you, Sir, came forward to
+patronize and befriend a distant, obscure stranger, merely because
+poverty had made him helpless, and his British hardihood of mind had
+provoked the arbitrary wantonness of power. My much esteemed friend,
+Mr. Riddel of Glenriddel, has just read me a paragraph of a letter he
+had from you. Accept, Sir, of the silent throb of gratitude; for words
+would but mock the emotions of my soul.
+
+You have been misinformed as to my final dismission from the Excise; I
+am still in the service.--Indeed, but for the exertions of a gentleman
+who must be known to you, Mr. Graham of Fintray, a gentleman who has
+ever been my warm and generous friend, I had, without so much us a
+hearing, or the slightest previous intimation, been turned adrift,
+with my helpless family, to all the horrors of want. Had I had any
+other resource, probably I might have saved them the trouble of a
+dismission; but the little money I gained by my publication, is almost
+every guinea embarked, to save from ruin an only brother, who, though
+one of the worthiest, is by no means one of the most fortunate of men.
+
+In my defence to their accusations, I said, that whatever might be my
+sentiments of republics, ancient or modern, as to Britain, I abjured the
+idea!--That a CONSTITUTION, which, in its original principles,
+experience had proved to be every way fitted for our happiness in
+society, it would be insanity to sacrifice to an untried visionary
+theory:--that, in consideration of my being situated in a department,
+however humble, immediately in the hands of people in power, I had
+forborne taking any active part, either personally, or as an author, in
+the present business of Reform. But, that, where I must declare my
+sentiments, I would say there existed a system of corruption between the
+executive power and the representative part of the legislature, which
+boded no good to our glorious CONSTITUTION; and which every patriotic
+Briton must wish to see amended.--Some such sentiments as these, I
+stated in a letter to my generous patron, Mr. Graham, which he laid
+before the Board at large; where, it seems, my last remark gave great
+offence; and one of our supervisors-general, a Mr. Corbet, was
+instructed to inquire on the spot, and to document me--"that my business
+was to act, _not to think;_ and that whatever might be men or measures,
+it was for me to be _silent_ and _obedient._"
+
+Mr. Corbet was likewise my steady friend; so between Mr. Graham and
+him, I have been partly forgiven; only I understand that all hopes of
+my getting officially forward, are blasted.
+
+Now, Sir, to the business in which I would more immediately interest
+you. The partiality of my COUNTRYMEN has brought me forward
+as a man of genius, and has given me a character to support. In the
+Poet I have avowed manly and independent sentiments, which I trust
+will be found in the man. Reasons of no less weight than the support
+of a wife and family, have pointed out as the eligible, and, situated
+as I was, the only eligible line of life for me, my present
+occupation. Still my honest fame is my dearest concern; and a
+thousand times have I trembled at the idea of those _degrading_
+epithets that malice or misrepresentation may affix to my name. I have
+often, in blasting anticipation, listened to some future hackney
+scribbler, with the heavy malice of savage stupidity, exulting in his
+hireling paragraphs--"Burns, notwithstanding the _fanfaronade_ of
+independence to be found in his works, and after having been held
+forth to public view and to public estimation as a man of some genius,
+yet quite destitute of resources within himself to support his
+borrowed dignity, he dwindled into a paltry exciseman, and slunk out
+the rest of his insignificant existence in the meanest of pursuits,
+and among the vilest of mankind."
+
+In your illustrious hands, Sir, permit me to lodge my disavowal and
+defiance of these slanderous falsehoods. BURNS was a poor man
+from birth, and an exciseman by necessity: but I _will_ say it! the
+sterling of his honest worth, no poverty could debase, and his
+independent British mind, oppression might bend, but could not subdue.
+Have not I, to me, a more precious stake in my country's welfare than
+the richest dukedom in it?--I have a large family of children, and the
+prospect of many more. I have three sons, who, I see already, have
+brought into the world souls ill qualified to inhabit the bodies of
+SLAVES.--Can I look tamely on, and see any machination to
+wrest from them the birthright of my boys,--the little independent
+BRITONS, in whose veins runs my own blood?--No! I will not!
+should my heart's blood stream around my attempt to defend it!
+
+Does any man tell me, that my full efforts can be of no service; and
+that it does not belong to my humble station to meddle with the
+concern of a nation?
+
+I can tell him, that it is on such individuals as I, that a nation has
+to rest, both for the hand of support, and the eye of intelligence.
+The uninformed mob may swell a nation's bulk; and the titled, tinsel,
+courtly throng, may be its feathered ornament; but the number of those
+who are elevated enough in life to reason and to reflect; yet low
+enough to keep clear of the venal contagion of a court!--these are a
+nation's strength.
+
+I know not how to apologize for the impertinent length of this epistle;
+but one small request I must ask of you further--when you have honoured
+this letter with a perusal, please to commit it to the flames. BURNS, in
+whose behalf you have so generously interested yourself, I have here in
+his native colours drawn _as he is_, but should any of the people in
+whose hands is the very bread he eats, get the least knowledge of the
+picture, _it would ruin the poor_ BARD _for ever_!
+
+My poems having just come out in another edition, I beg leave to
+present you with a copy, as a small mark of that high esteem and
+ardent gratitude, with which I have the honour to be,
+
+Sir,
+
+Your deeply indebted,
+
+And ever devoted humble servant,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLVI.
+
+
+TO ROBERT AINSLIE, ESQ.
+
+["Up tails a', by the light o' the moon," was the name of a Scottish
+air, to which the devil danced with the witches of Fife, on Magus
+Moor, as reported by a warlock, in that credible work, "Satan's
+Invisible World discovered."]
+
+_April 26, 1793._
+
+I am d--mnably out of humour, my dear Ainslie, and that is the reason,
+why I take up the pen to _you_: 'tis the nearest way (_probatum est_)
+to recover my spirits again.
+
+I received your last, and was much entertained with it; but I will not
+at this time, nor at any other time, answer it.--Answer a letter? I
+never could answer a letter in my life!--I have written many a letter
+in return for letters I have received; but then--they were original
+matter--spurt-away! zig here, zag there; as if the devil that, my
+Grannie (an old woman indeed) often told me, rode on will-o'-wisp, or,
+in her more classic phrase, SPUNKIE, were looking over my
+elbow.--Happy thought that idea has engendered in my head!
+SPUNKIE--thou shalt henceforth be my symbol signature, and
+tutelary genius! Like thee, hap-step-and-lowp, here-awa-there-awa,
+higglety-pigglety, pell-mell, hither-and-yon, ram-stam,
+happy-go-lucky, up-tails-a'-by-the-light-o'-the-moon,--has been, is,
+and shall be, my progress through the mosses and moors of this vile,
+bleak, barren wilderness of a life of ours.
+
+Come then, my guardian spirit, like thee may I skip away, amusing
+myself by and at my own light: and if any opaque-souled lubber of
+mankind complain that my elfine, lambent, glim merous wanderings have
+misled his stupid steps over precipices, or into bogs, let the
+thickheaded blunderbuss recollect, that he is not Spunkie:--that
+
+    "SPUNKIE'S wanderings could not copied be:
+    Amid these perils none durst walk but he."--
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I have no doubt but scholar-craft may be caught, as a Scotchman catches
+the itch,--by friction. How else can you account for it, that born
+blockheads, by mere dint of _handling_ books, grow so wise that even
+they themselves are equally convinced of and surprised at their own
+parts? I once carried this philosophy to that degree that in a knot of
+country folks who had a library amongst them, and who, to the honour
+of their good sense, made me factotum in the business; one of our
+members, a little, wise-looking, squat, upright, jabbering body of a
+tailor, I advised him, instead of turning over the leaves, _to bind
+the book on his back._--Johnnie took the hint; and as our meetings
+were every fourth Saturday, and Pricklouse having a good Scots mile to
+walk in coming, and, of course, another in returning, Bodkin was sure
+to lay his hand on some heavy quarto, or ponderous folio, with, and
+under which, wrapt up in his gray plaid, he grew wise, as he grew
+weary, all the way home. He carried this so far, that an old musty
+Hebrew concordance, which we had in a present from a neighbouring
+priest, by mere dint of applying it, as doctors do a blistering
+plaster, between his shoulders, Stitch, in a dozen pilgrimages,
+acquired as much rational theology as the said priest had done by
+forty years perusal of the pages.
+
+Tell me, and tell me truly, what you think of this theory.
+
+Yours,
+
+SPUNKIE.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLVII.
+
+
+TO MISS KENNEDY.
+
+[Miss Kennedy was one of that numerous band of ladies who patronized
+the poet in Edinburgh; she was related to the Hamiltons of Mossgiel.]
+
+MADAM,
+
+Permit me to present you with the enclosed song as a small though
+grateful tribute for the honour of your acquaintance. I have, in these
+verses, attempted some faint sketches of your portrait in the
+unembellished simple manner of descriptive TRUTH.--Flattery,
+I leave to your LOVERS, whose exaggerating fancies may make
+them imagine you still nearer perfection than you really are.
+
+Poets, Madam, of all mankind, feel most forcibly the powers of BEAUTY;
+as, if they are really poets of nature's making, their feelings must be
+finer, and their taste more delicate than most of the world. In the
+cheerful bloom of SPRING, or the pensive mildness of AUTUMN; the
+grandeur of SUMMER, or the hoary majesty of WINTER, the poet feels a
+charm unknown to the rest of his species. Even the sight of a fine
+flower, or the company of a fine woman (by far the finest part of God's
+works below), have sensations for the poetic heart that the HERD of man
+are strangers to.--On this last account, Madam, I am, as in many other
+things, indebted to Mr. Hamilton's kindness in introducing me to you.
+Your lovers may view you with a wish, I look on you with pleasure; their
+hearts, in your presence, may glow with desire, mine rises with
+admiration.
+
+That the arrows of misfortune, however they should, as incident to
+humanity, glance a slight wound, may never reach your _heart_--that
+the snares of villany may never beset you in the road of life--that
+INNOCENCE may hand you by the path of honour to the dwelling
+of PEACE, is the sincere wish of him who has the honour to
+be, &c.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLVIII.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[The name of the friend who fell a sacrifice to those changeable
+times, has not been mentioned: it is believed he was of the west
+country.]
+
+_June, 1793._
+
+When I tell you, my dear Sir, that a friend of mine in whom I am much
+interested, has fallen a sacrifice to these accursed times, you will
+easily allow that it might unhinge me for doing any good among
+ballads. My own loss as to pecuniary matters is trifling; but the
+total ruin of a much-loved friend is a loss indeed. Pardon my seeming
+inattention to your last commands.
+
+I cannot alter the disputed lines in the "Mill Mill, O!"[222] What you
+think a defect, I esteem as a positive beauty; so you see how doctors
+differ. I shall now, with as much alacrity as I can muster, go on with
+your commands.
+
+You know Frazer, the hautboy-player in Edinburgh--he is here,
+instructing a band of music for a fencible corps quartered in this
+county. Among many of his airs that please me, there is one, well
+known as a reel, by the name of "The Quaker's Wife;" and which, I
+remember, a grand-aunt of mine used to sing, by the name of "Liggeram
+Cosh, my bonnie wee lass." Mr. Frazer plays it slow, and with an
+expression that quite charms me. I became such an enthusiast about it,
+that I made a song for it, which I here subjoin, and enclose Frazer's
+set of the tune. If they hit your fancy, they are at your service; if
+not, return me the tune, and I will put it in Johnson's Museum. I
+think the song is not in my worst manner.
+
+    Blythe hae I been on yon hill.[223]
+
+I should wish to hear how this pleases you.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 222: "The lines were the third and fourth:
+
+    'Wi' mony a sweet babe fatherless,
+      And mony a widow mourning.'
+
+As our poet had maintained a long silence, and the first number of Mr.
+Thomson's musical work was in the press, this gentleman ventured, by
+Mr. Erskine's advice, to substitute for them, in that publication.
+
+    'And eyes again with pleasure beam'd
+      That had been blear'd with mourning.'
+
+Though better suited to the music, these lines are inferior to the
+original."--CURRIE.]
+
+[Footnote 223: Song CXV.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLIX.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[Against the mighty oppressors of the earth the poet was ever ready to
+set the sharpest shafts of his wrath: the times in which he wrote were
+sadly out of sorts.]
+
+_June 25th, 1793._
+
+Have you ever, my dear Sir, felt your bosom ready to burst with
+indignation, on reading of those mighty villains who divide kingdoms,
+desolate provinces, and lay nations waste, out of the wantonness of
+ambition, or often from still more ignoble passions? In a mood of this
+kind to-day I recollected the air of "Logan Water," and it occurred to
+me that its querulous melody probably had its origin from the
+plaintive indignation of some swelling, suffering heart, fired at the
+tyrannic strides of some public destroyer, and overwhelmed with
+private distress, the consequence of a country's ruin. If I have done
+anything at all like justice to my feelings, the following song,
+composed in three-quarters of an hour's meditation in my elbow-chair,
+ought to have some merit:--
+
+    O Logan, sweetly didst thou glide.[224]
+
+Do you know the following beautiful little fragment, in Wotherspoon's
+collection of Scots songs?[225]
+
+Air--"_Hughie Graham._"
+
+    "Oh gin my love were yon red rose,
+      That grows upon the castle wa';
+    And I mysel' a drap o' dew,
+      Into her bonnie breast to fa'!
+
+    "Oh there, beyond expression blest,
+      I'd feast on beauty a' the night,
+    Seal'd on her silk-saft faulds to rest,
+      Till fley'd awa by Phoebus light!"
+
+This thought is inexpressibly beautiful; and quite, so far as I know,
+original. It is too short for a song, else I would forswear you
+altogether unless you gave it a place. I have often tried to eke a
+stanza to it, but in vain. After balancing myself for a musing five
+minutes, on the hind legs of my elbow-chair, I produced the following.
+
+The verses are far inferior to the foregoing, I frankly confess: but
+if worthy of insertion at all, they might be first in place; as every
+poet who knows anything of his trade, will husband his best thoughts
+for a concluding stroke.
+
+    Oh were my love yon lilac fair,
+      Wi' purple blossoms to the spring;
+    And I a bird to shelter there,
+      When wearied on my little wing!
+
+    How I wad mourn, when it was torn
+      By autumn wild and winter rude!
+    But I wad sing on wanton wing,
+      When youthfu' May its bloom renewed.[226]
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 224: Song CXCVI.]
+
+[Footnote 225: Better known as Herd's. Wotherspoon was one of the
+publishers.]
+
+[Footnote 226: See Song CXCVII.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLX.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[Thomson, in his reply to the preceding letter, laments that anything
+should untune the feelings of the poet, and begs his acceptance of
+five pounds, as a small mark of his gratitude for his beautiful
+songs.]
+
+_July 2d, 1793._
+
+MY DEAR SIR,
+
+I have just finished the following ballad, and, as I do think it in my
+best style, I send it you. Mr. Clarke, who wrote down the air from
+Mrs. Burns's wood-note wild, is very fond of it, and has given it a
+celebrity by teaching it to some young ladies of the first fashion
+here. If you do not like the air enough to give it a place in your
+collection, please return it. The song you may keep, as I remember it.
+
+    There was a lass, and she was fair.[227]
+
+I have some thoughts of inserting in your index, or in my notes, the
+names of the fair ones, the themes of my songs. I do not mean the name
+at full; but dashes or asterisms, so as ingenuity may find them out.
+
+The heroine of the foregoing is Miss M'Murdo, daughter to Mr. M'Murdo,
+of Drumlanrig, one of your subscribers. I have not painted her in the
+rank which she holds in life, but in the dress and character of a
+cottager.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 227: Song CXCVIII.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLXI.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[Burns in this letter speaks of the pecuniary present which Thomson
+sent him, in a lofty and angry mood: he who published poems by
+subscription might surely have accepted, without any impropriety,
+payment for his songs.]
+
+_July, 1793._
+
+I assure you, my dear Sir, that you truly hurt me with your pecuniary
+parcel. It degrades me in my own eyes. However, to return it would
+savour of affectation; but, as to any more traffic of that debtor and
+creditor kind, I swear by that HONOUR which crowns the upright statue of
+ROBERT BURNS'S INTEGRITY--on the least motion of it, I will indignantly
+spurn the by-past transaction, and from that moment commence entire
+stranger to you! BURNS'S character for generosity of sentiment and
+independence of mind, will, I trust, long outlive any of his wants which
+the cold unfeeling ore can supply; at least, I will take care that such
+a character he shall deserve.
+
+Thank you for my copy of your publication. Never did my eyes behold in
+any musical work such elegance and correctness. Your preface, too, is
+admirably written, only your partiality to me has made you say too
+much: however, it will bind me down to double every effort in the
+future progress of the work. The following are a few remarks on the
+songs in the list you sent me. I never copy what I write to you, so I
+may be often tautological, or perhaps contradictory.
+
+"The Flowers o' the Forest," is charming as a poem, and should be, and
+must be, set to the notes; but, though out of your rule, the three
+stanzas beginning,
+
+    "I've seen the smiling of fortune beguiling,"
+
+are worthy of a place, were it but to immortalize the author of them,
+who is an old lady of my acquaintance, and at this moment living in
+Edinburgh. She is a Mrs. Cockburn, I forget of what place, but from
+Roxburghshire.[228] What a charming apostrophe is
+
+    "O fickle fortune, why this cruel sporting,
+    Why thus perplex us, poor sons of a day?"
+
+The old ballad, "I wish I were where Helen lies," is silly to
+contemptibility. My alteration of it, in Johnson's, is not much
+better. Mr. Pinkerton, in his, what he calls, ancient ballads (many of
+them notorious, though beautiful enough, forgeries), has the best set.
+It is full of his own interpolations--but no matter.
+
+In my next I will suggest to your consideration a few songs which may
+have escaped your hurried notice. In the meantime allow me to
+congratulate you now, as a brother of the quill. You have committed
+your character and fame, which will now be tried, for ages to come, by
+the illustrious jury of the SONS AND DAUGHTERS OF TASTE--all
+whom poesy can please or music charm.
+
+Being a bard of nature, I have some pretensions to second sight; and I
+am warranted by the spirit to foretell and affirm, that your
+great-grand-child will hold up your volumes, and say, with honest
+pride, "This so much admired selection was the work of my ancestor!"
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 228: Miss Rutherford, of Fernilee in Selkirkshire, by marriage
+Mrs. Patrick Cockburn, of Ormiston. She died in 1794, at an advanced
+age.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLXII.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[Stephen Clarke, whose name is at this strange note, was a musician
+and composer; he was a clever man, and had a high opinion of his own
+powers.]
+
+_August_, 1793.
+
+MY DEAR THOMSON,
+
+I hold the pen for our friend Clarke, who at present is studying the
+music of the spheres at my elbow. The Georgium Sidus he thinks is
+rather out of tune; so, until he rectify that matter, he cannot stoop
+to terrestrial affairs.
+
+He sends you six of the _rondeau_ subjects, and if more are wanted, he
+says you shall have them.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Confound your long stairs!
+
+S. CLARKE.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLXIII.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+["Phillis the Fair" endured much at the hands of both Burns and
+Clarke. The young lady had reason to complain, when the poet
+volunteered to sing the imaginary love of that fantastic fiddler.]
+
+_August_, 1793.
+
+Your objection, my dear Sir, to the passages in my song of "Logan
+Water," is right in one instance; but it is difficult to mend it: if I
+can, I will. The other passage you object to does not appear in the
+same light to me.
+
+I have tried my hand on "Robin Adair," and, you will probably think,
+with little success; but it is such a cursed, cramp, out-of-the-way
+measure, that I despair of doing anything better to it.
+
+    While larks with little wing.[229]
+
+So much for namby-pamby. I may, after all, try my hand on it in Scots
+verse. There I always find myself most at home.
+
+I have just put the last hand to the song I meant for "Cauld kail in
+Aberdeen." If it suits you to insert it, I shall be pleased, as the
+heroine is a favourite of mine; if not, I shall also be pleased;
+because I wish, and will be glad, to see you act decidedly on the
+business. 'Tis a tribute as a man of taste, and as an editor, which
+you owe yourself.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 229: Song CXCIX.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLXIV.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[The infusion of Highland airs and north country subjects into the
+music and songs of Scotland, has invigorated both: Burns, who had a
+fine ear as well as a fine taste, was familiar with all, either
+Highland or Lowland.]
+
+_August_, 1793.
+
+That crinkum-crankum tune, "Robin Adair," has run so in my head, and I
+succeeded so ill in my last attempt, that I have ventured, in this
+morning's walk, one essay more. You, my dear Sir, will remember an
+unfortunate part of our worthy friend Cunningham's story, which
+happened about three years ago. That struck my fancy, and I
+endeavoured to do the idea justice as follows:
+
+    Had I a cave on some wild distant shore.[230]
+
+By the way, I have met with a musical Highlander in Breadalbane's
+Fencibles, which are quartered here, who assures me that he well
+remembers his mother singing Gaelic songs to both "Robin Adair," and
+"Grammachree." They certainly have more of the Scotch than Irish taste
+in them.
+
+This man comes from the vicinity of Inverness: so it could not be any
+intercourse with Ireland that could bring them; except, what I
+shrewdly suspect to be the case, the wandering minstrels, harpers, and
+pipers, used to go frequently errant through the wilds both of
+Scotland and Ireland, and so some favourite airs might be common to
+both. A case in point--they have lately, in Ireland, published an
+Irish air, as they say, called "Caun du delish." The fact is, in a
+publication of Corri's, a great while ago, you will find the same air,
+called a Highland one, with a Gaelic song set to it. Its name there, I
+think, is "Oran Gaoil," and a fine air it is. Do ask honest Allan or
+the Rev. Gaelic parson, about these matters.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 230: Song CC.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLXV.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[While Burns composed songs, Thomson got some of the happiest embodied
+by David Allan, the painter, whose illustrations of the Gentle
+Shepherd had been favourably received. But save when an old man was
+admitted to the scene, his designs may be regarded as failures: his
+maidens were coarse and his old wives rigwiddie carlins.]
+
+_August_, 1793.
+
+MY DEAR SIR,
+
+"Let me in this ae night" I will reconsider. I am glad that you are
+pleased with my song, "Had I a cave," &c., as I liked it myself.
+
+I walked out yesterday evening with a volume of the Museum in my hand,
+when turning up "Allan Water," "What numbers shall the muse repeat,"
+&c., as the words appeared to me rather unworthy of so fine an air,
+and recollecting that it is on your list, I sat and raved under the
+shade of an old thorn, till I wrote one to suit the measure. I may be
+wrong; but I think it not in my worst style. You must know, that in
+Ramsay's Tea-table, where the modern song first appeared, the ancient
+name of the tune, Allan says, is "Allan Water," or "My love Annie's
+very bonnie." This last has certainly been a line of the original
+song; so I took up the idea, and, as you will see, have introduced the
+line in its place, which I presume it formerly occupied; though I
+likewise give you a choosing line, if it should not hit the cut of
+your fancy:
+
+    By Allan stream I chanced to rove.[231]
+
+Bravo! say I; it is a good song. Should you think so too (not else)
+you can set the music to it, and let the other follow as English
+verses.
+
+Autumn is my propitious season. I make more verses in it than all the
+year else. God bless you!
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 231: Song CCI.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLXVI.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[Phillis, or Philadelphia M'Murdo, in whose honour Burns composed the
+song beginning "Adown winding Nith I did wander," and several others,
+died September 5th, 1825.]
+
+_August_, 1793.
+
+Is "Whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad," one of your airs? I admire
+it much; and yesterday I set the following verses to it. Urbani, whom
+I have met with here, begged them of me, as he admires the air much;
+but as I understand that he looks with rather an evil eye on your
+work, I did not choose to comply. However, if the song does not suit
+your taste I may possibly send it him. The set of the air which I had
+in my eye, is in Johnson's Museum.
+
+    O whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad.[232]
+
+Another favourite air of mine is, "The muckin' o' Geordie's byre."
+When sung slow, with expression, I have wished that it had had better
+poetry; that I have endeavoured to supply as follows:
+
+    Adown winding Nith I did wander.[233]
+
+Mr. Clarke begs you to give Miss Phillis a corner in your book, as she
+is a particular flame of his, and out of compliment to him I have made
+the song. She is a Miss Phillis M'Murdo, sister to "Bonnie Jean." They
+are both pupils of his. You shall hear from me, the very first grist I
+get from my rhyming-mill.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 232: Song CCII.]
+
+[Footnote 233: Song CCIII.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLXVII.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[Burns was fond of expressive words: "Gloaming, the twilight," says
+Currie, "is a beautiful poetic word, which ought to be adopted in
+England." Burns and Scott have made the Scottish language popular over
+the world.]
+
+_August_, 1793.
+
+That tune, "Cauld kail," is such a favourite of yours, that I once
+more roved out yesterday for a gloamin-shot at the muses; when the
+muse that presides o'er the shores of Nith, or rather my old inspiring
+dearest nymph, Coila, whispered me the following. I have two reasons
+for thinking that it was my early, sweet simple inspirer that was by
+my elbow, "smooth gliding without step," and pouring the song on my
+glowing fancy. In the first place, since I left Coila's native haunts,
+not a fragment of a poet has arisen to cheer her solitary musings, by
+catching inspiration from her, so I more than suspect that she has
+followed me hither, or, at least, makes me occasional visits;
+secondly, the last stanza of this song I send you, is the very words
+that Coila taught me many years ago, and which I set to an old Scots
+reel in Johnson's Museum.
+
+    Come, let me take thee to my breast.[234]
+
+If you think the above will suit your idea of your favourite air, I
+shall be highly pleased. "The last time I came o'er the moor" I cannot
+meddle with, as to mending it; and the musical world have been so long
+accustomed to Ramsay's words, that a different song, though positively
+superior, would not be so well received. I am not fond of choruses to
+songs, so I have not made one for the foregoing.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 234: Song CCIV.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLXVIII.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+["Cauld kail in Aberdeen, and castocks in Strabogie," are words which
+have no connexion with the sentiment of the song which Burns wrote for
+the air.]
+
+_August_, 1793.
+
+SONG.
+
+    Now rosy May comes in wi' flowers.[235]
+
+So much for Davie. The chorus, you know, is to the low part of the
+tune. See Clarke's set of it in the Museum.
+
+N.B. In the Museum they have drawled out the tune to twelve lines of
+poetry, which is ---- nonsense. Four lines of song, and four of chorus,
+is the way.[236]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 235: Song CCV.]
+
+[Footnote 236: See Song LXVII.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLXIX.
+
+
+TO MISS CRAIK.
+
+[Miss Helen Craik of Arbigland, had merit both as a poetess and
+novelist: her ballads may be compared with those of Hector M'Neil: her
+novels had a seasoning of satire in them.]
+
+_Dumfries, August_, 1793.
+
+MADAM,
+
+Some rather unlooked-for accidents have prevented my doing myself the
+honour of a second visit to Arbigland, as I was so hospitably invited,
+and so positively meant to have done.--However, I still hope to have
+that pleasure before the busy months of harvest begin.
+
+I enclose you two of my late pieces, as some kind of return for the
+pleasure I have received in perusing a certain MS. volume of poems in
+the possession of Captain Riddel. To repay one with an _old song_, is
+a proverb, whose force, you, Madam, I know, will not allow. What is
+said of illustrious descent is, I believe, equally true of a talent
+for poetry, none ever despised it who had pretensions to it. The fates
+and characters of the rhyming tribe often employ my thoughts when I am
+disposed to be melancholy. There is not, among all the martyrologies
+that ever were penned, so rueful a narrative as the lives of the
+poets.--In the comparative view of wretches, the criterion is not what
+they are doomed to suffer, but how they are formed to bear. Take a
+being of our kind, give him a stronger imagination and a more delicate
+sensibility, which between them will ever engender a more ungovernable
+set of passions than are the usual lot of man; implant in him an
+irresistible impulse to some idle vagary, such as arranging wild
+flowers in fantastical nosegays, tracing the grasshopper to his haunt
+by his chirping song, watching the frisks of the little minnows in the
+sunny pool, or hunting after the intrigues of butterflies--in short,
+send him adrift after some pursuit which shall eternally mislead him
+from the paths of lucre, and yet curse him with a keener relish than
+any man living for the pleasures that lucre can purchase; lastly, fill
+up the measure of his woes by bestowing on him a spurning sense of his
+own dignity, and you have created a wight nearly as miserable as a
+poet. To you, Madam, I need not recount the fairy pleasures the muse
+bestows to counterbalance this catalogue of evils. Bewitching poetry
+is like bewitching woman; she has in all ages been accused of
+misleading mankind from the councils of wisdom and the paths of
+prudence, involving them in difficulties, baiting them with poverty,
+branding them with infamy, and plunging them in the whirling vortex of
+ruin; yet, where is the man but must own that all our happiness on
+earth is not worthy the name--that even the holy hermit's solitary
+prospect of paradisiacal bliss is but the glitter of a northern sun
+rising over a frozen region, compared with the many pleasures, the
+nameless raptures that we owe to the lovely queen of the heart of man!
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLXX.
+
+
+TO LADY GLENCAIRN.
+
+[Burns, as the concluding paragraph of this letter proves, continued
+to the last years of his life to think of the composition of a
+Scottish drama, which Sir Walter Scott laments he did not write,
+instead of pouring out multitudes of lyrics for Johnson and Thomson.]
+
+MY LADY,
+
+The honour you have done your poor poet, in writing him so very
+obliging a letter, and the pleasure the enclosed beautiful verses have
+given him, came very seasonably to his aid, amid the cheerless gloom
+and sinking despondency of diseased nerves and December weather. As to
+forgetting the family of Glencairn, Heaven is my witness with what
+sincerity I could use those old verses which please me more in their
+rude simplicity than the most elegant lines I ever saw.
+
+    "If thee, Jerusalem, I forget,
+      Skill part from my right hand.
+
+    My tongue to my mouth's roof let cleave,
+      If I do thee forget,
+    Jerusalem, and thee above
+      My chief joy do not set."--
+
+When I am tempted to do anything improper, I dare not, because I look
+on myself as accountable to your ladyship and family. Now and then,
+when I have the honour to be called to the tables of the great, if I
+happen to meet with any mortification from the stately stupidity of
+self-sufficient squires, or the luxurious insolence of upstart nabobs,
+I get above the creatures by calling to remembrance that I am
+patronized by the noble house of Glencairn; and at gala-times, such as
+new-year's day, a christening, or the kirn-night, when my punch-bowl
+is brought from its dusty corner and filled up in honour of the
+occasion, I begin with,--_The Countess of Glencairn!_ My good woman
+with the enthusiasm of a grateful heart, next cries, _My Lord!_ and so
+the toast goes on until I end with _Lady Harriet's little angel!_
+whose epithalamium I have pledged myself to write.
+
+When I received your ladyship's letter, I was just in the act of
+transcribing for you some verses I have lately composed; and meant to
+have sent them my first leisure hour, and acquainted you with my late
+change of life. I mentioned to my lord my fears concerning my farm.
+Those fears were indeed too true; it is a bargain would have ruined
+me, but for the lucky circumstance of my having an excise commission.
+
+People may talk as they please, of the ignominy of the excise; 50_l._
+a year will support my wife and children, and keep me independent of
+the world; and I would much rather have it said that my profession
+borrowed credit from me, than that I borrowed credit from my
+profession. Another advantage I have in this business, is the
+knowledge it gives me of the various shades of human character,
+consequently assisting me vastly in my poetic pursuits. I had the most
+ardent enthusiasm for the muses when nobody knew me, but myself, and
+that ardour is by no means cooled now that my lord Glencairn's
+goodness has introduced me to all the world. Not that I am in haste
+for the press. I have no idea of publishing, else I certainly had
+consulted my noble generous patron; but after acting the part of an
+honest man, and supporting my family, my whole wishes and views are
+directed to poetic pursuits. I am aware that though I were to give
+performances to the world superior to my former works, still if they
+were of the same kind with those, the comparative reception they would
+meet with would mortify me. I have turned my thoughts on the drama. I
+do not mean the stately buskin of the tragic muse.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Does not your ladyship think that an Edinburgh theatre would be more
+amused with affectation, folly, and whim of true Scottish growth, than
+manners which by far the greatest part of the audience can only know
+at second hand?
+
+I have the honour to be,
+
+Your ladyship's ever devoted
+
+And grateful humble servant,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLXXI.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[Peter Pindar, the name under which it was the pleasure of that bitter
+but vulgar satirist, Dr. Wolcot, to write, was a man of little lyrical
+talent. He purchased a good annuity for the remainder of his life, by
+the copyright of his works, and survived his popularity many year.]
+
+_Sept._ 1793.
+
+You may readily trust, my dear Sir, that any exertion in my power is
+heartily at your service. But one thing I must hint to you; the very
+name of Peter Pindar is of great service to your publication, so get a
+verse from him now and then; though I have no objection, as well as I
+can, to bear the burden of the business.
+
+You know that my pretensions to musical taste are merely a few of
+nature's instincts, untaught and untutored by art. For this reason,
+many musical compositions, particularly where much of the merit lies
+in counterpoint, however they may transport and ravish the ears of
+your connoisseurs, affect my simple lug no otherwise than merely as
+melodious din. On the other hand, by way of amends, I am delighted
+with many little melodies, which the learned musician despises as
+silly and insipid. I do not know whether the old air "Hey tuttie
+taitie," may rank among this number; but well I know that, with
+Frazer's haut-boy, it has often filled my eyes with tears. There is a
+tradition, which I have met with in many places in Scotland, that it
+was Robert Bruce's march at the battle of Bannockburn. This thought,
+in yesternight's evening walk, warmed me to a pitch of enthusiasm on
+the theme of liberty and independence, which I threw into a kind of
+Scottish ode, fitted to the air, that one might suppose to be the
+gallant Royal Scot's address to his heroic followers on the eventful
+morning.
+
+    Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled.[237]
+
+So may God ever defend the cause of truth and liberty, as he did that
+day! Amen.
+
+P.S. I showed the air to Urbani, who was highly pleased with it, and
+begged me to make soft verses for it; but I had no idea of giving
+myself any trouble on the subject, till the accidental recollection of
+that glorious struggle for freedom, associated with the glowing ideas
+of some other struggles of the same nature, not quite so ancient,
+roused my rhyming mania. Clarke's set of the tune, with his bass, you
+will find in the Museum, though I am afraid that the air is not what
+will entitle it to a place in your elegant selection.[238]
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 237: Song CCVII.]
+
+[Footnote 238: Song CCVIII.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLXXII.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[This letter contains further proof of the love of Burns for the airs
+of the Highlands.]
+
+_Sept._ 1793.
+
+I dare say, my dear Sir, that you will begin to think my
+correspondence is persecution. No matter, I can't help it; a ballad is
+my hobby-horse, which, though otherwise a simple sort of harmless
+idiotical beast enough, has yet this blessed headstrong property, that
+when once it has fairly made off with a hapless wight, it gets so
+enamoured with the tinkle-gingle, tinkle-gingle of its own bells, that
+it is sure to run poor pilgarlick, the bedlam jockey, quite beyond any
+useful point or post in the common race of men.
+
+The following song I have composed for "Oran-gaoil," the Highland air
+that, you tell me in your last, you have resolved to give a place to
+in your book. I have this moment finished the song, so you have it
+glowing from the mint. If it suit you, well!--If not, 'tis also well!
+
+    Behold the hour, the boat arrive!
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLXXIII.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[This is another of the sagacious letters on Scottish song, which
+poets and musicians would do well to read and consider.]
+
+_Sept._ 1793.
+
+I have received your list, my dear Sir, and here go my observations on
+it.[239]
+
+"Down the burn, Davie." I have this moment tried an alteration,
+leaving out the last half of the third stanza, and the first half of
+the last stanza, thus:
+
+    As down the burn they took their way,
+      And thro' the flowery dale;
+    His cheek to hers he aft did lay,
+      And love was aye the tale.
+    With "Mary, when shall we return,
+      Sic pleasure to renew?"
+    Quoth Mary, "Love, I like the burn,
+      And aye shall follow you."[240]
+
+"Thro' the wood, laddie"--I am decidedly of opinion that both in this,
+and "There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame," the second or
+high part of the tune being a repetition of the first part an octave
+higher, is only for instrumental music, and would be much better
+omitted in singing.
+
+"Cowden-knowes." Remember in your index that the song in pure English
+to this tune, beginning,
+
+    "When summer comes, the swains on Tweed,"
+
+is the production of Crawfurd. Robert was his Christian name.[241]
+
+"Laddie, lie near me," must lie by me for some time. I do not know the
+air; and until I am complete master of a tune, in my own singing (such
+as it is), I can never compose for it. My way is: I consider the
+poetic sentiment correspondent to my idea of the musical expression;
+then choose my theme; begin one stanza: when that is composed, which
+is generally the most difficult part of the business, I walk out, sit
+down now and then, look out for objects of nature around me that are
+in unison and harmony with the cogitations of my fancy, and workings
+of my bosom; humming every now and then the air with the verses I have
+framed. When I feel my muse beginning to jade, I retire to the
+solitary fire-side of my study, and there commit my effusions to
+paper; swinging at intervals on the hind-legs of my elbow-chair, by
+way of calling forth my own critical strictures as my pen goes on.
+Seriously, this, at home, is almost invariably my way.
+
+What cursed egotism!
+
+"Gil Morice" I am for leaving out. It is a plaguy length; the air
+itself is never sung; and its place can well be supplied by one or two
+songs for fine airs that are not in your list--for instance
+"Craigieburn-wood" and "Roy's wife." The first, beside its intrinsic
+merit, has novelty, and the last has high merit as well as great
+celebrity. I have the original words of a song for the last air, in
+the handwriting of the lady who composed it; and they are superior to
+any edition of the song which the public has yet seen.
+
+"Highland laddie." The old set will please a mere Scotch ear best; and
+the new an Italianised one. There is a third, and what Oswald calls
+the old "Highland laddie," which pleases me more than either of them.
+It is sometimes called "Ginglin Johnnie;" it being the air of an old
+humorous tawdry song of that name. You will find it in the Museum, "I
+hae been at Crookieden," &c. I would advise you, in the musical
+quandary, to offer up your prayers to the muses for inspiring
+direction; and in the meantime, waiting for this direction, bestow a
+libation to Bacchus; and there is not a doubt but you will hit on a
+judicious choice. _Probatum est._
+
+"Auld Sir Simon" I must beg you to leave out, and put in its place
+"The Quaker's wife."
+
+"Blythe hae I been on yon hill,"[242] is one of the finest songs ever I
+made in my life, and, besides, is composed on a young lady, positively
+the most beautiful, lovely woman in the world. As I purpose giving you
+the names and designations of all my heroines, to appear in some
+future edition of your work, perhaps half a century hence, you must
+certainly include "The bonniest lass in a' the warld," in your
+collection.
+
+"Dainty Davie" I have heard sung nineteen thousand nine hundred and
+ninety-nine times, and always with the chorus to the low part of the
+tune; and nothing has surprised me so much as your opinion on this
+subject. If it will not suit as I proposed, we will lay two of the
+stanzas together, and then make the chorus follow, exactly as Lucky
+Nancy in the Museum.
+
+"Fee him, father:" I enclose you Frazer's set of this tune when he
+plays it slow: in fact he makes it the language of despair. I shall
+here give you two stanzas, in that style, merely to try if it will be
+any improvement. Were it possible, in singing, to give it half the
+pathos which Frazer gives it in playing, it would make an admirably
+pathetic song. I do not give these verses for any merit they have. I
+composed them at the time in which "Patie Allan's mither died--that
+was about the back o' midnight;" and by the lee-side of a bowl of
+punch, which had overset every mortal in company except the hautbois
+and the muse.
+
+Thou hast left me ever, Jamie.[243]
+
+"Jockie and Jenny" I would discard, and in its place would put
+"There's nae luck about the house,"[244] which has a very pleasant air,
+and which is positively the finest love-ballad in that style in the
+Scottish, or perhaps in any other language. "When she came ben she
+bobbit," as an air is more beautiful than either, and in the _andante_
+way would unite with a charming sentimental ballad.
+
+"Saw ye my father?" is one of my greatest favourites. The evening before
+last, I wandered out, and began a tender song, in what I think is its
+native style. I must premise that the old way, and the way to give most
+effect, is to have no starting note, as the fiddlers call it, but to
+burst at once into the pathos. Every country girl sings "Saw ye my
+father?" &c.
+
+My song is but just begun; and I should like, before I proceed, to
+know your opinion of it. I have sprinkled it with the Scottish
+dialect, but it may be easily turned into correct English.[245]
+
+"Todlin hame." Urbani mentioned an idea of his, which has long been
+mine, that this air is highly susceptible of pathos: accordingly, you
+will soon hear him at your concert try it to a song of mine in the
+Museum, "Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon." One song more and I have
+done; "Auld lang syne." The air is but mediocre; but the following
+song, the old song of the olden times, and which has never been in
+print, nor even in manuscript, until I took it down from an old man's
+singing, is enough to recommend any air.[246]
+
+Now, I suppose, I have tried your patience fairly. You must, after all
+is over, have a number of ballads, properly so called. "Gil Morice,"
+"Tranent Muir," "Macpherson's farewell," "Battle of Sherriff-muir,"
+or, "We ran, and they ran," (I know the author of this charming
+ballad, and his history,) "Hardiknute," "Barbara Allan" (I can furnish
+a finer set of this tune than any that has yet appeared;) and besides
+do you know that I really have the old tune to which "The cherry and
+the slae" was sung, and which is mentioned as a well-known air in
+"Scotland's Complaint," a book published before poor Mary's days?[247]
+It was then called "The banks of Helicon;" an old poem which Pinkerton
+has brought to light. You will see all this in Tytler's history of
+Scottish music. The tune, to a learned ear, may have no great merit;
+but it is a great curiosity. I have a good many original things of
+this kind.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 239: Mr. Thomson's list of songs for his publication.]
+
+[Footnote 240: This is an alteration of one of Crawford's songs.]
+
+[Footnote 241: His Christian name was William.]
+
+[Footnote 242: Song CXCV.]
+
+[Footnote 243: Song CCIX.]
+
+[Footnote 244: By William Julius Mickle.]
+
+[Footnote 245: The song here alluded to is one which the poet afterwards
+sent in an entire form:--
+
+    "Where are the joys I hae met in the morning."]
+
+[Footnote 246: Song CCX.]
+
+[Footnote 247: A curious and rare book, which Leyden afterwards edited.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLXXIV.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[Burns listened too readily to the suggestion of Thomson, to alter
+"Bruce's Address to his troops at Bannockburn:" whatever may be the
+merits of the air of "Louis Gordon," the sublime simplicity of the
+words was injured by the alteration: it is now sung as originally
+written, by all singers of taste.]
+
+_September, 1793._
+
+I am happy, my dear Sir, that my ode pleases you so much. Your idea,
+"honour's bed," is, though a beautiful, a hackneyed idea; so, if you
+please, we will let the line stand as it is. I have altered the song
+as follows:--[248]
+
+N. B. I have borrowed the last stanza from the common stall edition of
+Wallace--
+
+    "A false usurper sinks in every foe,
+    And liberty returns with every blow."
+
+A couplet worthy of Homer. Yesterday you had enough of my
+correspondence. The post goes, and my head aches miserably. One
+comfort! I suffer so much, just now, in this world, for last night's
+joviality, that I shall escape scot-free for it in the world to come.
+Amen.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 248: Song CCVII.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLXXV.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[The poet's good sense rose at last in arms against the criticisms of
+the musician, and he refused to lessen the dignity of his war-ode by
+any more alterations.]
+
+_September, 1793._
+
+"Who shall decide when doctors disagree?" My ode pleases me so much
+that I cannot alter it. Your proposed alterations would, in my
+opinion, make it tame. I am exceedingly obliged to you for putting me
+on reconsidering it, as I think I have much improved it. Instead of
+"sodger! hero!" I will have it "Caledonian, on wi' me!"
+
+I have scrutinized it over and over; and to the world, some way or
+other, it shall go as it is. At the same time it will not in the least
+hurt me, should you leave it out altogether, and adhere to your first
+intention of adopting Logan's verses.
+
+I have finished my song to "Saw ye my father?" and in English, as you
+will see. That there is a syllable too much for the expression of the
+air, is true; but, allow me to say, that the mere dividing of a dotted
+crotchet into a crotchet and a quaver, is not a great matter: however,
+in that I have no pretensions to cope in judgment with you. Of the
+poetry I speak with confidence; but the music is a business where I hint
+my ideas with the utmost diffidence.
+
+The old verses have merit, though unequal, and are popular: my advice
+is to set the air to the old words, and let mine follow as English
+verses. Here they are:--
+
+    Where are the joys I have met in the morning?[249]
+
+Adieu, my dear Sir! the post goes, so I shall defer some other remarks
+until more leisure.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 249: Song CCXI.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLXXVI.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[For "Fy! let us a' to the bridal," and "Fy! gie me my coggie, Sirs,"
+and "There's nae luck about the house," Burns puts in a word of
+praise, from a feeling that Thomson's taste would induce him to
+exclude the first--one of our most original songs--from his
+collection.]
+
+_September, 1793._
+
+I have been turning over some volumes of songs, to find verses whose
+measures would suit the airs for which you have allotted me to find
+English songs.
+
+For "Muirland Willie," you have, in Ramsay's Tea-Table, an excellent
+song beginning, "Ah, why those tears in Nelly's eyes?" As for "The
+Collier's Dochter," take the following old bacchanal:--
+
+    "Deluded swain, the pleasure, &c."[250]
+
+The faulty line in Logan-Water, I mend thus:
+
+    How can your flinty hearts enjoy
+    The widow's tears, the orphan's cry?
+
+The song otherwise will pass. As to "M'Gregoira Rua-Ruth," you will
+see a song of mine to it, with a set of the air superior to yours, in
+the Museum, vol. ii. p. 181. The song begins,
+
+    Raving winds around her blowing.[251]
+
+Your Irish airs are pretty, but they are rank Irish. If they were like
+the "Banks of Banna," for instance, though really Irish, yet in the
+Scottish taste, you might adopt them. Since you are so fond of Irish
+music, what say you to twenty-five of them in an additional number? We
+could easily find this quantity of charming airs; I will take care
+that you shall not want songs; and I assure you that you would find it
+the most saleable of the whole. If you do not approve of "Roy's wife,"
+for the music's sake, we shall not insert it. "Deil tak the wars" is a
+charming song; so is, "Saw ye my Peggy?" "There's nae luck about the
+house" well deserves a place. I cannot say that "O'er the hills and
+far awa" strikes me as equal to your selection. "This is no my ain
+house," is a great favourite air of mine; and if you will send me your
+set of it, I will task my muse to her highest effort. What is your
+opinion of "I hae laid a herrin' in saut?" I like it much. Your
+jacobite airs are pretty, and there are many others of the same kind
+pretty; but you have not room for them. You cannot, I think, insert
+"Fy! let's a' to the bridal," to any other words than its own.
+
+What pleases me, as simple and _naive_, disgusts you as ludicrous and
+low. For this reason, "Fy! gie me my coggie, Sirs," "Fy let's a' to
+the bridal," with several others of that cast, are to me highly
+pleasing; while "Saw ye my father, or saw ye my mother?" delights me
+with its descriptive simple pathos. Thus my song, "Ken ye what Meg o'
+the mill has gotten?" pleases myself so much, that I cannot try my
+hand at another song to the air, so I shall not attempt it. I know you
+will laugh at all this: but "ilka man wears his belt his ain gait."
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 250: Song CCXII.]
+
+[Footnote 251: Song LII.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLXXVII.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[Of the Hon. Andrew Erskine an account was communicated in a letter to
+Burns by Thomson, which the writer has withheld. He was a gentleman of
+talent, and joint projector of Thomson's now celebrated work.]
+
+_October, 1793._
+
+Your last letter, my dear Thomson, was indeed laden with heavy news.
+Alas, poor Erskine![252] The recollection that he was a co-adjutator in
+your publication, has till now scared me from writing to you, or
+turning my thoughts on composing for you.
+
+I am pleased that you are reconciled to the air of the "Quaker's
+wife;" though, by the bye, an old Highland gentleman, and a deep
+antiquarian, tells me it is a Gaelic air, and known by the name of
+"Leiger m' choss." The following verses, I hope, will please you, as
+an English song to the air.
+
+    Thine am I, my faithful fair:[253]
+
+Your objection to the English song I proposed for "John Anderson my
+jo," is certainly just. The following is by an old acquaintance of
+mine, and I think has merit. The song was never in print, which I
+think is so much in your favour. The more original good poetry your
+collection contains, it certainly has so much the more merit.
+
+SONG.--BY GAVIN TURNBULL.[254]
+
+    Oh, condescend, dear charming maid,
+      My wretched state to view;
+    A tender swain, to love betray'd,
+      And sad despair, by you.
+
+    While here, all melancholy,
+      My passion I deplore,
+    Yet, urg'd by stern, resistless fate,
+      I love thee more and more.
+
+    I heard of love, and with disdain
+      The urchin's power denied.
+    I laugh'd at every lover's pain,
+      And mock'd them when they sigh'd.
+
+    But how my state is alter'd!
+      Those happy days are o'er;
+    For all thy unrelenting hate,
+      I love thee more and more.
+
+    Oh, yield, illustrious beauty, yield!
+      No longer let me mourn;
+    And though victorious in the field,
+      Thy captive do not scorn.
+
+    Let generous pity warm thee,
+      My wonted peace restore;
+    And grateful I shall bless thee still,
+      And love thee more and more.
+
+The following address of Turnbull's to the Nightingale will suit as an
+English song to the air "There was a lass, and she was fair." By the
+bye, Turnbull has a great many songs in MS., which I can command, if
+you like his manner. Possibly, as he is an old friend of mine, I may
+be prejudiced in his favour; but I like some of his pieces very much.
+
+THE NIGHTINGALE.
+
+    Thou sweetest minstrel of the grove,
+      That ever tried the plaintive strain,
+    Awake thy tender tale of love,
+      And soothe a poor forsaken swain.
+
+    For though the muses deign to aid
+      And teach him smoothly to complain,
+    Yet Delia, charming, cruel maid,
+      Is deaf to her forsaken swain.
+
+    All day, with fashion's gaudy sons,
+      In sport she wanders o'er the plain:
+    Their tales approves, and still she shuns
+      The notes of her forsaken swain.
+
+    When evening shades obscure the sky,
+      And bring the solemn hours again,
+    Begin, sweet bird, thy melody,
+      And soothe a poor forsaken swain.
+
+I shall just transcribe another of Turnbull's, which would go
+charmingly to "Lewie Gordon."
+
+LAURA.
+
+    Let me wander where I will,
+    By shady wood, or winding rill;
+    Where the sweetest May-born flowers
+    Paint the meadows, deck the bowers;
+    Where the linnet's early song
+    Echoes sweet the woods among:
+    Let me wander where I will,
+    Laura haunts my fancy still.
+
+    If at rosy dawn I choose
+    To indulge the smiling muse;
+    If I court some cool retreat,
+    To avoid the noontide heat;
+    If beneath the moon's pale ray,
+    Thro' unfrequented wilds I stray;
+    Let me wander where I will,
+    Laura haunts my fancy still.
+
+    When at night the drowsy god
+    Waves his sleep-compelling rod,
+    And to fancy's wakeful eyes
+    Bids celestial visions rise,
+    While with boundless joy I rove
+    Thro' the fairy land of love;
+    Let me wander where I will,
+    Laura haunts my fancy still.
+
+The rest of your letter I shall answer at some other opportunity.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 252: "The honorable Andrew Erskine, whose melancholy death Mr.
+Thomson had communicated in an excellent letter, which he has
+suppressed."--CURRIE.]
+
+[Footnote 253: Song CCXIII.]
+
+[Footnote 254: Gavin Turnbull was author of a now forgotten volume,
+published at Glasgow, in 1788, under the title of "Poetical Essays."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLXXVIII.
+
+
+TO JOHN M'MURDO, ESQ.,
+
+WITH A PARCEL.
+
+[The collection of songs alluded to in this letter, are only known to
+the curious in loose lore: they were printed by an obscure
+bookseller, but not before death had secured him from the indignation
+of Burns.]
+
+_Dumfries, [December, 1793.]_
+
+SIR,
+
+'Tis said that we take the greatest liberties with our greatest
+friends, and I pay myself a very high compliment in the manner in
+which I am going to apply the remark. I have owed you money longer
+than ever I owed it to any man. Here is Kerr's account, and here are
+the six guineas; and now I don't owe a shilling to man--or woman
+either. But for these d----d dirty, dog's-ear'd little pages,[255] I
+had done myself the honour to have waited on you long ago. Independent
+of the obligations your hospitality has laid me under, the
+consciousness of your superiority in the rank of man and gentleman, of
+itself was fully as much as I could ever make head against; but to owe
+you money too, was more than I could face.
+
+I think I once mentioned something to you of a collection of Scots
+songs I have for some years been making: I send you a perusal of what
+I have got together. I could not conveniently spare them above five or
+six days, and five or six glances of them will probably more than
+suffice you. When you are tired of them, please leave them with Mr.
+Clint, of the King's Arms. There is not another copy of the collection
+in the world; and I should be sorry that any unfortunate negligence
+should deprive me of what has cost me a good deal of pains.
+
+I have the honour to be, &c.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 255: Scottish Bank notes.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLXXIX.
+
+
+TO JOHN M'MURDO, ESQ.,
+
+DRUMLANRIG.
+
+[These words, thrown into the form of a note, are copied from a blank
+leaf of the poet's works, published in two volumes, small octavo, in
+1793.]
+
+_Dumfries, 1793._
+
+Will Mr. M'Murdo do me the favour to accept of these volumes; a
+trifling but sincere mark of the very high respect I bear for his
+worth as a man, his manners as a gentleman, and his kindness as a
+friend. However inferior now, or afterwards, I may rank as a poet; one
+honest virtue to which few poets can pretend, I trust I shall ever
+claim as mine:--to no man, whatever his station in life, or his power
+to serve me, have I ever paid a compliment at the expense of
+TRUTH.
+
+THE AUTHOR.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLXXX.
+
+
+TO CAPTAIN ----.
+
+[This excellent letter, obtained from Stewart of Dalguise, is copied
+from my kind friend Chambers's collection of Scottish songs.]
+
+_Dumfries, 5th December, 1793._
+
+SIR,
+
+Heated as I was with wine yesternight, I was perhaps rather seemingly
+impertinent in my anxious wish to be honoured with your acquaintance.
+You will forgive it: it was the impulse of heart-felt respect. "He is
+the father of the Scottish county reform, and is a man who does honour
+to the business, at the same time that the business does honour to
+him," said my worthy friend Glenriddel to somebody by me who was
+talking of your coming to this county with your corps. "Then," I said,
+"I have a woman's longing to take him by the hand, and say to him,
+'Sir, I honour you as a man to whom the interests of humanity are
+dear, and as a patriot to whom the rights of your country are
+sacred.'"
+
+In times like these, Sir, when our commoners are barely able by the
+glimmer of their own twilight understandings to scrawl a frank, and
+when lords are what gentlemen would be ashamed to be, to whom shall a
+sinking country call for help? To the independent country gentleman.
+To him who has too deep a stake in his country not to be in earnest
+for her welfare; and who in the honest pride of a man can view with
+equal contempt the insolence of office and the allurements of
+corruption.
+
+I mentioned to you a Scots ode or song I had lately composed, and
+which I think has some merit. Allow me to enclose it. When I fall in
+with you at the theatre, I shall be glad to have your opinion of it.
+Accept it, Sir, as a very humble but most sincere tribute of respect
+from a man, who, dear as he prizes poetic fame, yet holds dearer an
+independent mind.
+
+I have the honour to be,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLXXXI.
+
+
+TO MRS. RIDDEL,
+
+_Who was about to bespeak a Play one evening at the Dumfries Theatre._
+
+[This clever lady, whom Burns so happily applies the words of Thomson,
+died in the year 1820, at Hampton Court.]
+
+I am thinking to send my "Address" to some periodical publication, but
+it has not yet got your sanction, so pray look at it.
+
+As to the Tuesday's play, let me beg of you, my dear madam, to give
+us, "The Wonder, a Woman keeps a Secret!" to which please add, "The
+Spoilt Child"--you will highly oblige me by so doing.
+
+Ah, what an enviable creature you are! There now, this cursed, gloomy,
+blue-devil day, you are going to a party of choice spirits--
+
+                  "To play the shapes
+    Of frolic fancy, and incessant form
+    Those rapid pictures, assembled train
+    Of fleet ideas, never join'd before,
+    Where lively _wit_ excites to gay surprise;
+    Or folly-painting _humour_, grave himself,
+    Calls laughter forth, deep-shaking every nerve."
+
+THOMSON.
+
+But as you rejoice with them that do rejoice, do also remember to weep
+with them that weep, and pity your melancholy friend.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLXXXII.
+
+
+TO A LADY.
+
+IN FAVOUR OF A PLAYER'S BENEFIT.
+
+[The name of the lady to whom this letter is addressed, has not
+transpired.]
+
+_Dumfries, 1794._
+
+MADAM,
+
+You were so very good as to promise me to honour my friend with your
+presence on his benefit night. That night is fixed for Friday first:
+the play a most interesting one! "The Way to Keep Him." I have the
+pleasure to know Mr. G. well. His merit as an actor is generally
+acknowledged. He has genius and worth which would do honour to
+patronage: he is a poor and modest man; claims which from their very
+_silence_ have the more forcible power on the generous heart. Alas,
+for pity! that from the indolence of those who have the good things of
+this life in their gift, too often does brazen-fronted importunity
+snatch that boon, the rightful due of retiring, humble want! Of all
+the qualities we assign to the author and director of nature, by far
+the most enviable is--to be able "to wipe away all tears from all
+eyes." O what insignificant, sordid wretches are they, however chance
+may have loaded them with wealth, who go to their graves, to their
+magnificent _mausoleums_, with hardly the consciousness of having made
+one poor honest heart happy!
+
+But I crave your pardon, Madam; I came to beg, not to preach.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLXXXIII.
+
+
+TO THE EARL OF BUCHAN,
+
+_With a Copy of Bruce's Address to his Troops at Bannockburn._
+
+[This fantastic Earl of Buchan died a few years ago: when he was put
+into the family burial-ground, at Dryburgh, his head was laid the
+wrong way, which Sir Walter Scott said was little matter, as it had
+never been quite right in his lifetime.]
+
+_Dumfries, 12th January, 1794._
+
+MY LORD,
+
+Will your lordship allow me to present you with the enclosed little
+composition of mine, as a small tribute of gratitude for the
+acquaintance with which you have been pleased to honour me?
+Independent of my enthusiasm as a Scotsman, I have rarely met with
+anything in history which interests my feelings as a man, equal with
+the story of Bannockburn. On the one hand, a cruel, but able usurper,
+leading on the finest army in Europe to extinguish the last spark of
+freedom among a greatly-daring and greatly-injured people; on the
+other hand, the desperate relics of a gallant nation, devoting
+themselves to rescue their bleeding country, or perish with her.
+
+Liberty! thou art a prize truly and indeed invaluable! for never canst
+thou be too dearly bought!
+
+If my little ode has the honour of your lordship's approbation, it
+will gratify my highest ambition.
+
+I have the honour to be, &c.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLXXXIV.
+
+
+TO CAPTAIN MILLER,
+
+DALSWINTON.
+
+[Captain Miller, of Dalswinton, sat in the House of Commons for the
+Dumfries district of boroughs. Dalswinton has passed from the family
+to my friend James M'Alpine Leny, Esq.]
+
+DEAR SIR,
+
+The following ode is on a subject which I know you by no means regard
+with indifference. Oh, Liberty,
+
+    "Thou mak'st the gloomy face of nature gay,
+    Giv'st beauty to the sun, and pleasure to the day."
+
+ADDISON.
+
+It does me so much good to meet with a man whose honest bosom glows
+with the generous enthusiasm, the heroic daring of liberty, that I
+could not forbear sending you a composition of my own on the subject,
+which I really think is in my best manner.
+
+I have the honour to be,
+
+Dear Sir, &c.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLXXXV.
+
+
+TO MRS. RIDDEL.
+
+[The dragon guarding the Hesperian fruit, was simply a military
+officer, who, with the courtesy of those whose trade is arms, paid
+attention to the lady.]
+
+DEAR MADAM,
+
+I meant to have called on you yesternight, but as I edged up to your
+box-door, the first object which greeted my view, was one of those
+lobster-coated puppies, sitting like another dragon, guarding the
+Hesperian fruit. On the conditions and capitulations you so obligingly
+offer, I shall certainly make my weather-beaten rustic phiz a part of
+your box-furniture on Tuesday; when we may arrange the business of the
+visit.
+
+Among the profusion of idle compliments, which insidious craft, or
+unmeaning folly, incessantly offer at your shrine--a shrine, how far
+exalted above such adoration--permit me, were it but for rarity's
+sake, to pay you the honest tribute of a warm heart and an independent
+mind; and to assure you, that I am, thou most amiable and most
+accomplished of thy sex, with the most respectful esteem, and fervent
+regard, thine, &c.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLXXXVI.
+
+
+TO MRS. RIDDEL.
+
+[The patient sons of order and prudence seem often to have stirred the
+poet to such invectives as this letter exhibits.]
+
+I will wait on you, my ever-valued friend, but whether in the morning
+I am not sure. Sunday closes a period of our curst revenue business,
+and may probably keep me employed with my pen until noon. Fine
+employment for a poet's pen! There is a species of the human genus
+that I call _the gin-horse class:_ what enviable dogs they are! Round,
+and round, and round they go,--Mundell's ox that drives his
+cotton-mill is their exact prototype--without an idea or wish beyond
+their circle; fat, sleek, stupid, patient, quiet, and contented; while
+here I sit, altogether Novemberish, a d--mn'd melange of fretfulness
+and melancholy; not enough of the one to rouse me to passion, nor of
+the other to repose me in torpor, my soul flouncing and fluttering
+round her tenement, like a wild finch, caught amid the horrors of
+winter, and newly thrust into a cage. Well, I am persuaded that it was
+of me the Hebrew sage prophesied, when he foretold--"And behold, on
+whatsoever this man doth set his heart, it shall not prosper!" If my
+resentment is awaked, it is sure to be where it dare not squeak: and
+if--  *  *  *  *  *
+
+Pray that wisdom and bliss be more frequent visiters of
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLXXXVII.
+
+
+TO MRS. RIDDEL.
+
+[The bard often offended and often appeased this whimsical but very
+clever lady.]
+
+I have this moment got the song from Syme, and I am sorry to see that
+he has spoilt it a good deal. It shall be a lesson to me how I lend
+him anything again.
+
+I have sent you "Werter," truly happy to have any the smallest
+opportunity of obliging you.
+
+'Tis true, Madam, I saw you once since I was at Woodlea; and that once
+froze the very life-blood of my heart. Your reception of me was such,
+that a wretch meeting the eye of his judge, about to pronounce
+sentence of death on him could only have envied my feelings and
+situation. But I hate the theme, and never more shall write or speak
+on it.
+
+One thing I shall proudly say, that I can pay Mrs. R. a higher tribute
+of esteem, and appreciate her amiable worth more truly, than any man
+whom I have seen approach her.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLXXXVIII.
+
+
+TO MRS. RIDDEL.
+
+[Burns often complained in company, and sometimes in his letters, of
+the caprice of Mrs. Riddel.]
+
+I have often told you, my dear friend, that you had a spice of caprice
+in your composition, and you have as often disavowed it; even perhaps
+while your opinions were, at the moment, irrefragably proving it.
+Could _anything_ estrange me from a friend such as you?--No! To-morrow
+I shall have the honour of waiting on you.
+
+Farewell, thou first of friends, and most accomplished of women; even
+with all thy little caprices!
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCLXXXIX.
+
+
+TO MRS. RIDDEL.
+
+[The offended lady was soothed by this submissive letter, and the bard
+was re-established in her good graces.]
+
+MADAM,
+
+I return your common-place book. I have perused it with much pleasure,
+and would have continued my criticisms, but as it seems the critic has
+forfeited your esteem, his strictures must lose their value.
+
+If it is true that "offences come only from the heart," before you I
+am guiltless. To admire, esteem, and prize you as the most
+accomplished of women, and the first of friends--if these are crimes,
+I am the most offending thing alive.
+
+In a face where I used to meet the kind complacency of friendly
+confidence, _now_ to find cold neglect, and contemptuous scorn--is a
+wrench that my heart can ill bear. It is, however, some kind of
+miserable good luck, and while _de haut-en-bas_ rigour may depress an
+unoffending wretch to the ground, it has a tendency to rouse a
+stubborn something in his bosom, which, though it cannot heal the
+wounds of his soul, is at least an opiate to blunt their poignancy.
+
+With the profoundest respect for your abilities; the most sincere
+esteem and ardent regard for your gentle heart and amiable manners;
+and the most fervent wish and prayer for your welfare, peace, and
+bliss, I have the honour to be,
+
+Madam,
+
+Your most devoted humble servant,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXC.
+
+
+TO JOHN SYME, ESQ.
+
+[John Syme, of the stamp-office, was the companion as well as comrade
+in arms, of Burns: he was a well-informed gentleman, loved witty
+company, and sinned in rhyme now and then: his epigrams were often
+happy.]
+
+You know that among other high dignities, you have the honour to be my
+supreme court of critical judicature, from which there is no appeal. I
+enclose you a song which I composed since I saw you, and I am going to
+give you the history of it. Do you know that among much that I admire
+in the characters and manners of those great folks whom I have now the
+honour to call my acquaintances, the Oswald family, there is nothing
+charms me more than Mr. Oswald's unconcealable attachment to that
+incomparable woman. Did you ever, my dear Syme, meet with a man who
+owed more to the Divine Giver of all good things than Mr. O.? A fine
+fortune; a pleasing exterior; self-evident amiable dispositions, and
+an ingenuous upright mind, and that informed, too, much beyond the
+usual run of young fellows of his rank and fortune: and to all this,
+such a woman!--but of her I shall say nothing at all, in despair of
+saying anything adequate: in my song I have endeavoured to do justice
+to what would be his feelings, on seeing, in the scene I have drawn,
+the habitation of his Lucy. As I am a good deal pleased with my
+performance, I, in my first fervour, thought of sending it to Mrs.
+Oswald, but on second thoughts, perhaps what I offer as the honest
+incense of genuine respect, might, from the well-known character of
+poverty and poetry, be construed into some modification or other of
+that servility which my soul abhors.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXCI.
+
+
+TO MISS ----.
+
+[Burns, on other occasions than this, recalled both his letters and
+verses: it is to be regretted that he did not recall more of both.]
+
+_Dumfries, 1794._
+
+MADAM,
+
+Nothing short of a kind of absolute necessity could have made me
+trouble you with this letter. Except my ardent and just esteem for
+your sense, taste, and worth, every sentiment arising in my breast, as
+I put pen to paper to you, is painful. The scenes I have passed with
+the friend of my soul and his amiable connexions! the wrench at my
+heart to think that he is gone, for ever gone from me, never more to
+meet in the wanderings of a weary world! and the cutting reflection of
+all, that I had most unfortunately, though most undeservedly, lost the
+confidence of that soul of worth, ere it took its flight!
+
+These, Madam, are sensations of no ordinary anguish.--However, you
+also may be offended with some _imputed_ improprieties of mine;
+sensibility you know I possess, and sincerity none will deny me.
+
+To oppose those prejudices which have been raised against me, is not
+the business of this letter. Indeed it is a warfare I know not how to
+wage. The powers of positive vice I can in some degree calculate, and
+against direct malevolence I can be on my guard; but who can estimate
+the fatuity of giddy caprice, or ward off the unthinking mischief of
+precipitate folly?
+
+I have a favour to request of you, Madam, and of your sister Mrs. ----,
+through your means. You know that, at the wish of my late friend, I
+made a collection of all my trifles in verse which I had ever written.
+They are many of them local, some of them puerile and silly, and all
+of them unfit for the public eye. As I have some little fame at stake,
+a fame that I trust may live when the hate of those who "watch for my
+halting," and the contumelious sneer of those whom accident has made
+my superiors, will, with themselves, be gone to the regions of
+oblivion; I am uneasy now for the fate of those manuscripts--Will
+Mrs. ---- have the goodness to destroy them, or return them to me? As a
+pledge of friendship they were bestowed; and that circumstance indeed
+was all their merit. Most unhappily for me, that merit they no longer
+possess; and I hope that Mrs. ---- 's goodness, which I well know, and
+ever will revere, will not refuse this favour to a man whom she once
+held in some degree of estimation.
+
+With the sincerest esteem,
+
+I have the honour to be,
+
+Madam, &c.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXCII.
+
+
+TO MR. CUNNINGHAM.
+
+[The religious feeling of Burns was sometimes blunted, but at times it
+burst out, as in this letter, with eloquence and fervour, mingled with
+fear.]
+
+_25th February, 1794._
+
+Canst thou minister to a mind diseased? Canst thou speak peace and
+rest to a soul tost on a sea of troubles, without one friendly star to
+guide her course, and dreading that the next surge may overwhelm her?
+Canst thou give to a frame tremblingly alive as the tortures of
+suspense, the stability and hardihood of the rock that braves the
+blast? If thou canst not do the least of these, why wouldst thou
+disturb me in my miseries, with thy inquiries after me?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+For these two months I have not been able to lift a pen. My
+constitution and frame were, _ab origine_, blasted with a deep
+incurable taint of hypochondria, which poisons my existence. Of late a
+number of domestic vexations, and some pecuniary share in the ruin of
+these cursed times; losses which, though trifling, were yet what I
+could ill bear, have so irritated me, that my feelings at times could
+only be envied by a reprobate spirit listening to the sentence that
+dooms it to perdition.
+
+Are you deep in the language of consolation? I have exhausted in
+reflection every topic of comfort. _A heart at ease_ would have been
+charmed with my sentiments and reasonings; but as to myself I was like
+Judas Iscariot preaching the gospel; he might melt and mould the
+hearts of those around him, but his own kept its native
+incorrigibility.
+
+Still there are two great pillars that bear us up, amid the wreck of
+misfortune and misery. The one is composed of the different
+modifications of a certain noble stubborn something in man, known by
+the names of courage, fortitude, magnanimity. The other is made up of
+those feelings and sentiments, which, however the sceptic may deny
+them, or the enthusiast disfigure them, are yet, I am convinced,
+original and component parts of the human soul; those _senses of the
+mind_, if I may be allowed the expression, which connect us with, and
+link us to, those awful, obscure realities--an all-powerful, and
+equally beneficent God; and a world to come, beyond death and the
+grave. The first gives the nerve of combat, while a ray of hope beams
+on the field: the last pours the balm of comfort into the wounds which
+time can never cure.
+
+I do not remember, my dear Cunningham, that you and I ever talked on
+the subject of religion at all. I know some who laugh at it, as the
+trick of the crafty few, to lead the undiscerning MANY; or at
+most as an uncertain obscurity, which mankind can never know anything
+of, and with which they are fools if they give themselves much to do.
+Nor would I quarrel with a man for his irreligion, any more than I
+would for his want of a musical ear. I would regret that he was shut
+out from what, to me and to others, were such superlative sources of
+enjoyment. It is in this point of view, and for this reason, that I
+will deeply imbue the mind of every child of mine with religion. If my
+son should happen to be a man of feeling, sentiment, and taste, I
+shall thus add largely to his enjoyments. Let me flatter myself that
+this sweet little fellow, who is just now running about my desk, will
+be a man of a melting, ardent, glowing heart; and an imagination,
+delighted with the painter, and rapt with the poet. Let me figure him
+wandering out in a sweet evening, to inhale the balmy gales, and enjoy
+the growing luxuriance of spring; himself the while in the blooming
+youth of life. He looks abroad on all nature, and through nature up to
+nature's God. His soul, by swift delighting degrees, is rapt above
+this sublunary sphere, until he can be silent no longer, and bursts
+out into the glorious enthusiasm of Thomson,
+
+    "These, as they change, Almighty Father, these
+    Are but the varied God.--The rolling year
+    Is full of thee."
+
+And so on, in all the spirit and ardour of that charming hymn. These
+are no ideal pleasures, they are real delights; and I ask what of the
+delights among the sons of men are superior, not to say equal to them?
+And they have this precious, vast addition, that conscious virtue
+stamps them for her own; and lays hold on them to bring herself into
+the presence of a witnessing, judging, and approving God.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXCIII.
+
+
+TO THE EARL OF GLENCAIRN.
+
+[The original letter is in the possession of the Hon. Mrs. Halland, of
+Poynings: it is undated, but from a memorandum on the back it appears
+to have been written in May, 1794.]
+
+_May, 1794._
+
+MY LORD,
+
+When you cast your eye on the name at the bottom of this letter, and
+on the title-page of the book I do myself the honour to send your
+lordship, a more pleasurable feeling than my vanity tells me that it
+must be a name not entirely unknown to you. The generous patronage of
+your late illustrious brother found me in the lowest obscurity: he
+introduced my rustic muse to the partiality of my country; and to him
+I owe all. My sense of his goodness, and the anguish of my soul at
+losing my truly noble protector and friend, I have endeavoured to
+express in a poem to his memory, which I have now published. This
+edition is just from the press; and in my gratitude to the dead, and
+my respect for the living (fame belies you, my lord, if you possess
+not the same dignity of man, which was your noble brother's
+characteristic feature), I had destined a copy for the Earl of
+Glencairn. I learnt just now that you are in town:--allow me to
+present it you.
+
+I know, my lord, such is the vile, venal contagion which pervades the
+world of letters, that professions of respect from an author,
+particularly from a poet, to a lord, are more than suspicious. I claim
+my by-past conduct, and my feelings at this moment, as exceptions to
+the too just conclusion. Exalted as are the honours of your lordship's
+name, and unnoted as is the obscurity of mine; with the uprightness of
+an honest man, I come before your lordship with an offering, however
+humble, 'tis all I have to give, of my grateful respect; and to beg of
+you, my lord,--'tis all I have to ask of you,--that you will do me the
+honour to accept of it.
+
+I have the honour to be,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXCIV.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[The correspondence between the poet and the musician was interrupted
+in spring, but in summer and autumn the song-strains were renewed.]
+
+_May, 1794._
+
+MY DEAR SIR,
+
+I return you the plates, with which I am highly pleased; I would
+humbly propose, instead of the younker knitting stockings, to put a
+stock and horn into his hands. A friend of mine, who is positively the
+ablest judge on the subject I have ever met with, and, though an
+unknown, is yet a superior artist with the burin, is quite charmed
+with Allan's manner. I got him a peep of the "Gentle Shepherd;" and he
+pronounces Allan a most original artist of great excellence.
+
+For my part, I look on Mr. Allan's choosing my favourite poem for his
+subject, to be one of the highest compliments I have ever received.
+
+I am quite vexed at Pleyel's being cooped up in France, as it will put
+an entire stop to our work. Now, and for six or seven months, I shall
+be quite in song, as you shall see by and bye. I got an air, pretty
+enough, composed by Lady Elizabeth Heron, of Heron, which she calls
+"The Banks of Cree." Cree is a beautiful romantic stream; and, as her
+ladyship is a particular friend of mine, I have written the following
+song to it.
+
+    Here is the glen and here the bower.[256]
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 256: Song CCXXIII.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXCV.
+
+
+TO DAVID M'CULLOCH, ESQ.
+
+[The endorsement on the back of the original letter shows in what far
+lands it has travelled:--"Given by David M'Culloch, Penang, 1810. A.
+Fraser." "Received 15th December, 1823, in Calcutta, from Captain
+Frazer's widow, by me, Thomas Rankine." "Transmitted to Archibald
+Hastie, Esq., London, March 27th, 1824, from Bombay."]
+
+_Dumfries, 21st June, 1794._
+
+MY DEAR SIR,
+
+My long-projected journey through your country is at last fixed: and
+on Wednesday next, if you have nothing of more importance to do, take
+a saunter down to Gatehouse about two or three o'clock, I shall be
+happy to take a draught of M'Kune's best with you. Collector Syme will
+be at Glens about that time, and will meet us about dish-of-tea hour.
+Syme goes also to Kerroughtree, and let me remind you of your kind
+promise to accompany me there; I will need all the friends I can
+muster, for I am indeed ill at ease whenever I approach your
+honourables and right honourables.
+
+Yours sincerely,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXCVI.
+
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP.
+
+[Castle Douglas is a thriving Galloway village: it was in other days
+called "The Carlinwark," but accepted its present proud name from an
+opulent family of mercantile Douglasses, well known in Scotland,
+England, and America.]
+
+_Castle Douglas, 25th June, 1794._
+
+Here, in a solitary inn, in a solitary village, am I set by myself, to
+amuse my brooding fancy as I may.--Solitary confinement, you know, is
+Howard's favourite idea of reclaiming sinners; so let me consider by
+what fatality it happens that I have so long been so exceeding sinful
+as to neglect the correspondence of the most valued friend I have on
+earth. To tell you that I have been in poor health will not be excuse
+enough, though it is true. I am afraid that I am about to suffer for
+the follies of my youth. My medical friends threaten me with a flying
+gout; but I trust they are mistaken.
+
+I am just going to trouble your critical patience with the first
+sketch of a stanza I have been framing as I passed along the road. The
+subject is Liberty: you know, my honoured friend, how dear the theme
+is to me. I design it as an irregular ode for General Washington's
+birth-day. After having mentioned the degeneracy of other kingdoms, I
+come to Scotland thus:--
+
+    Thee, Caledonia, thy wild heaths among,
+    Thee, famed for martial deed, and sacred song,
+      To thee I turn with swimming eyes;
+    Where is that soul of freedom fled?
+    Immingled with the mighty dead!
+      Beneath the hallowed turf where Wallace lies!
+    Hear it not, Wallace, in thy bed of death!
+      Ye babbling winds in silence sweep,
+    Disturb not ye the hero's sleep.
+
+with additions of
+
+    That arm which nerved with thundering fate,
+      Braved usurpation's boldest daring!
+    One quenched in darkness like the sinking star,
+      And one the palsied arm of tottering, powerless age.
+
+You will probably have another scrawl from me in a stage or two.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXCVII.
+
+
+TO MR. JAMES JOHNSON.
+
+[The anxiety of Burns about the accuracy of his poetry, while in the
+press, was great: he found full employment for months in correcting a
+new edition of his poems.]
+
+_Dumfries, 1794._
+
+MY DEAR FRIEND,
+
+You should have heard from me long ago; but over and above some
+vexatious share in the pecuniary losses of these accursed times, I
+have all this winter been plagued with low spirits and blue devils, so
+that _I have almost hung my harp on the willow-trees._
+
+I am just now busy correcting a new edition of my poems, and this,
+with my ordinary business, finds me in full employment.
+
+I send you by my friend Mr. Wallace forty-one songs for your fifth
+volume; if we cannot finish it in any other way, what would you think
+of Scots words to some beautiful Irish airs? In the mean time, at your
+leisure, give a copy of the Museum to my worthy friend, Sir. Peter
+Hill, bookseller, to bind for me, interleaved with blank leaves,
+exactly as he did the Laird of Glenriddel's, that I may insert every
+anecdote I can learn, together with my own criticisms and remarks on
+the songs. A copy of this kind I shall leave with you, the editor, to
+publish at some after period, by way of making the Museum a book
+famous to the end of time, and you renowned for ever.
+
+I have got an Highland dirk, for which I have great veneration; as it
+once was the dirk of _Lord Balmerino._ It fell into bad hands, who
+stripped it of the silver mounting, as well as the knife and fork. I
+have some thoughts of sending it to your care, to get it mounted anew.
+
+Thank you for the copies of my Volunteer Ballad.--Our friend Clarke
+has done _indeed_ well! 'tis chaste and beautiful. I have not met with
+anything that has pleased me so much. You know I am no connoisseur:
+but that I am an amateur--will be allowed me.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXCVIII.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[The blank in this letter could be filled up without writing treason:
+but nothing has been omitted of an original nature.]
+
+_July, 1794._
+
+Is there no news yet of Pleyel? Or is your work to be at a dead stop,
+until the allies set our modern Orpheus at liberty from the savage
+thraldom of democrat discords? Alas the day! And woe is me! That
+auspicious period, pregnant with the happiness of millions. * * * *
+
+I have presented a copy of your songs to the daughter of a much-valued
+and much-honoured friend of mine, Mr. Graham of Fintray. I wrote on
+the blank side of the title-page the following address to the young
+lady:
+
+    Here, where the Scottish muse immortal lives, &c.[257]
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 257: Song CCXXIX.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCXCIX.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[Thomson says to Burns, "You have anticipated my opinion of 'O'er the
+seas and far away.'" Yet some of the verses are original and
+touching.]
+
+_30th August, 1794._
+
+The last evening, as I was straying out, and thinking of "O'er the
+hills and far away," I spun the following stanza for it; but whether
+my spinning will deserve to be laid up in store, like the precious
+thread of the silk-worm, or brushed to the devil, like the vile
+manufacture of the spider, I leave, my dear Sir, to your usual candid
+criticism. I was pleased with several lines in it at first, but I own
+that now it appears rather a flimsy business.
+
+This is just a hasty sketch, until I see whether it be worth a
+critique. We have many sailor songs, but as far as I at present
+recollect, they are mostly the effusions of the jovial sailor, not the
+wailings of his love-lorn mistress. I must here make one sweet
+exception--"Sweet Annie frae the sea-beach came." Now for the song:--
+
+    How can my poor heart be glad.[258]
+
+I give you leave to abuse this song, but do it in the spirit of
+Christian meekness.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 258: Song CCXXIV.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCC.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[The stream on the banks of which this song is supposed to be sung, is
+known by three names, Cairn, Dalgonar, and Cluden. It rises under the
+name of Cairn, runs through a wild country, under the name of
+Dalgonar, affording fine trout-fishing as well as fine scenes, and
+under that of Cluden it all but washes the walls of Lincluden College,
+and then unites with the Nith.]
+
+_Sept. 1794._
+
+I shall withdraw my "On the seas and far away" altogether: it is
+unequal, and unworthy the work. Making a poem is like begetting a son:
+you cannot know whether you have a wise man or a fool, until you
+produce him to the world to try him.
+
+For that reason I send you the offspring of my brain, abortions and
+all; and, as such, pray look over them, and forgive them, and burn
+them. I am flattered at your adopting "Ca' the yowes to the knowes,"
+as it was owing to me that ever it saw the light. About seven years
+ago I was well acquainted with a worthy little fellow of a clergyman,
+a Mr. Clunie, who sang it charmingly; and, at my request, Mr. Clarke
+took it down from his singing. When I gave it to Johnson, I added some
+stanzas to the song, and mended others, but still it will not do for
+you. In a solitary stroll which I took to-day, I tried my hand on a
+few pastoral lines, following up the idea of the chorus, which I would
+preserve. Here it is, with all its crudities and imperfections on its
+head.
+
+    Ca' the yowes to the knowes, &c.[259]
+
+I shall give you my opinion of your other newly adopted songs my first
+scribbling fit.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 259: Song CCXXV.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCI.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[Dr. Maxwell, whose skill called forth the praises of the poet, had
+the honour of being named by Burke in the House of Commons: he shared
+in the French revolution, and narrowly escaped the guillotine, like
+many other true friends of liberty.]
+
+_Sept. 1794._
+
+Do you know a blackguard Irish song called "Onagh's Waterfall?" The
+air is charming, and I have often regretted the want of decent verses
+to it. It is too much, at least for my humble rustic muse, to expect
+that every effort of hers shall have merit; still I think that it is
+better to have mediocre verses to a favourite air, than none at all.
+On this principle I have all along proceeded in the Scots Musical
+Museum; and as that publication is at its last volume, I intend the
+following song, to the air above mentioned, for that work.
+
+If it does not suit you as an editor, you may be pleased to have
+verses to it that you can sing in the company of ladies.
+
+    Sae flaxen were her ringlets.[260]
+
+Not to compare small things with great, my taste in music is like the
+mighty Frederick of Prussia's taste in painting: we are told that he
+frequently admired what the connoisseurs decried, and always without
+any hypocrisy confessed his admiration. I am sensible that my taste in
+music must be inelegant and vulgar, because people of undisputed and
+cultivated taste can find no merit in my favourite tunes. Still,
+because I am cheaply pleased, is that any reason why I should deny
+myself that pleasure? Many of our strathspeys, ancient and modern,
+give me most exquisite enjoyment, where you and other judges would
+probably be showing disgust. For instance, I am just now making verses
+for "Rothemurche's rant," an air which puts me in raptures; and, in
+fact, unless I be pleased with the tune, I never can make verses to
+it. Here I have Clarke on my side, who is a judge that I will pit
+against any of you. "Rothemurche," he says, "is an air both original
+and beautiful;" and, on his recommendation, I have taken the first
+part of the tune for a chorus, and the fourth or last part for the
+song. I am but two stanzas deep in the work, and possibly you may
+think, and justly, that the poetry is as little worth your attention
+as the music.
+
+[Here follow two stanzas of the song, beginning "Lassie wi' the
+lint-white locks." Song CCXXXIII.]
+
+I have begun anew, "Let me in this ae night." Do you think that we
+ought to retain the old chorus? I think we must retain both the old
+chorus and the first stanza of the old song. I do not altogether like
+the third line of the first stanza, but cannot alter it to please
+myself. I am just three stanzas deep in it. Would you have the
+_denouement_ to be successful or otherwise?--should she "let him in"
+or not?
+
+Did you not once propose "The sow's tail to Geordie" as an air for
+your work? I am quite delighted with it; but I acknowledge that is no
+mark of its real excellence. I once set about verses for it, which I
+meant to be in the alternate way of a lover and his mistress chanting
+together. I have not the pleasure of knowing Mrs. Thomson's Christian
+name, and yours, I am afraid, is rather burlesque for sentiment, else
+I had meant to have made you the hero and heroine of the little piece.
+
+How do you like the following epigram which I wrote the other day on a
+lovely young girl's recovery from a fever? Doctor Maxwell was the
+physician who seemingly saved her from the grave; and to him I address
+the following:
+
+TO DR. MAXWELL,
+
+ON MISS JESSIE STAIG'S RECOVERY.
+
+    Maxwell, if merit here you crave,
+      That merit I deny:
+    You save fair Jessy from the grave?--
+      An angel could not die!
+
+God grant you patience with this stupid epistle!
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 260: Song CCXXVI.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCII.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[The poet relates the history of several of his best songs in this
+letter: the true old strain of "Andro and his cutty gun" is the first
+of its kind.]
+
+_19th October, 1794._
+
+MY DEAR FRIEND,
+
+By this morning's post I have your list, and, in general, I highly
+approve of it. I shall, at more leisure, give you a critique on the
+whole. Clarke goes to your town by to-day's fly, and I wish you would
+call on him and take his opinion in general: you know his taste is a
+standard. He will return here again in a week or two, so please do not
+miss asking for him. One thing I hope he will do--persuade you to
+adopt my favourite "Craigieburn-wood," in your selection: it is as
+great a favourite of his as of mine. The lady on whom it was made is
+one of the finest women in Scotland; and in fact (_entre nous_) is in
+a manner to me what Sterne's Eliza was to him--a mistress, or friend,
+or what you will, in the guileless simplicity of Platonic love. (Now,
+don't put any of your squinting constructions on this, or have any
+clishmaclaver about it among our acquaintances.) I assure you that to
+my lovely friend you are indebted for many of your best songs of mine.
+Do you think that the sober, gin-horse routine of existence could
+inspire a man with life, and love, and joy--could fire him with
+enthusiasm, or melt him with pathos, equal to the genius of your book?
+No! no! Whenever I want to be more than ordinary in song--to be in
+some degree equal to your diviner airs--do you imagine I fast and pray
+for the celestial emanation? _Tout au contraire!_ I have a glorious
+recipe; the very one that for his own use was invented by the divinity
+of healing and poetry, when erst he piped to the flocks of Admetus. I
+put myself in a regimen of admiring a fine woman; and in proportion to
+the adorability of her charms, in proportion you are delighted with my
+verses. The lightning of her eye is the godhead of Parnassus, and the
+witchery of her smile the divinity of Helicon!
+
+To descend to business: if you like my idea of "When she cam ben she
+bobbit," the following stanzas of mine, altered a little from what
+they were formerly, when set to another air, may perhaps do instead of
+worse stanzas:--
+
+    O saw ye my dear, my Phely.[261]
+
+Now for a few miscellaneous remarks. "The Posie" (in the Museum) is my
+composition; the air was taken down from Mrs. Burns's voice. It is
+well known in the west country, but the old words are trash. By the
+bye, take a look at the tune again, and tell me if you do not think it
+is the original from which "Roslin Castle" is composed. The second
+part in particular, for the first two or three bars, is exactly the
+old air. "Strathallan's Lament" is mine; the music is by our right
+trusty and deservedly well-beloved Allan Masterton. "Donocht-Head" is
+not mine; I would give ten pounds it were. It appeared first in the
+Edinburgh Herald, and came to the editor of that paper with the
+Newcastle post-mark on it "Whistle o'er the lave o't" is mine: the
+music said to be by a John Bruce, a celebrated violin-player in
+Dumfries, about the beginning of this century. This I know, Bruce, who
+was an honest man, though a red-wud Highlandman, constantly claimed
+it; and by all the old musical people here is believed to be the
+author of it.
+
+"Andrew and his cutty gun." The song to which this is set in the
+Museum is mine, and was composed on Miss Euphemia Murray, of Lintrose,
+commonly and deservedly called the Flower of Strathmore.
+
+"How long and dreary is the night!" I met with some such words in a
+collection of songs somewhere, which I altered and enlarged; and to
+please you, and to suit your favourite air, I have taken a stride or
+two across my room, and have arranged it anew, as you will find on the
+other page.
+
+    How long and dreary is the night, &c.[262]
+
+Tell me how you like this. I differ from your idea of the expression
+of the tune. There is, to me, a great deal of tenderness in it. You
+cannot, in my opinion, dispense with a bass to your addenda airs. A
+lady of my acquaintance, a noted performer, plays and sings at the
+same time so charmingly, that I shall never bear to see any of her
+songs sent into the world, as naked as Mr. What-d'ye-call-um has done
+in his London collection.[263]
+
+These English songs gravel me to death. I have not that command of the
+language that I have of my native tongue. I have been at "Duncan
+Gray," to dress it in English, but all I can do is deplorably stupid.
+For instance:--
+
+    Let not woman e'er complain, &c.[264]
+
+Since the above, I have been out in the country, taking a dinner with
+a friend, where I met with a lady whom I mentioned in the second page
+in this odds-and-ends of a letter. As usual, I got into song; and
+returning home I composed the following:
+
+    Sleep'st thou, or wak'st thou, fairest creature
+      &c.[265]
+
+If you honour my verses by setting the air to them, I will vamp up the
+old song, and make it English enough to be understood.
+
+I enclose you a musical curiosity, an East Indian air, which you would
+swear was a Scottish one. I know the authenticity of it, as the
+gentleman who brought it over is a particular acquaintance of mine. Do
+preserve me the copy I send you, as it is the only one I have. Clarke
+has set a bass to it, and I intend putting it into the Musical Museum.
+Here follow the verses I intend for it.
+
+    But lately seen in gladsome green, &c.[266]
+
+I would be obliged to you if you would procure me a sight of Ritson's
+collection of English songs, which you mention in your letter. I will
+thank you for another information, and that as speedily as you please:
+whether this miserable drawling hotch-potch epistle has not completely
+tired you of my correspondence?
+
+VARIATION.
+
+        Now to the streaming fountain,
+        Or up the heathy mountain,
+    The hart, hind, and roe, freely, wildly-wanton stray;
+        In twining hazel bowers,
+        His lay the linnet pours;
+        The lav'rock to the sky
+        Ascends wi' sangs o' joy,
+    While the sun and thou arise to bless the day.
+
+        When frae my Chloris parted,
+        Sad, cheerless, broken-hearted,
+    The night's gloomy shades, cloudy, dark, o'ercast my sky.
+        But when she charms my sight,
+        In pride of beauty's light;
+        When through my very heart
+        Her beaming glories dart;
+    'Tis then, 'tis then I wake to life and joy!
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 261: Song CCXXVII.]
+
+[Footnote 262: Song CCXXVIII.]
+
+[Footnote 263: Mr. Ritson, whose collection of Scottish songs was
+published this year.]
+
+[Footnote 264: Song CCXXIX.]
+
+[Footnote 265: Song CCXXX.]
+
+[Footnote 266: Song CCXVI.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCIII.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[The presents made to the poet were far from numerous: the book for
+which he expresses his thanks, was the work of the waspish Ritson.]
+
+_November, 1794._
+
+Many thanks to you, my dear Sir, for your present; it is a book of the
+utmost importance to me. I have yesterday begun my anecdotes, &c., for
+your work. I intend drawing them up in the form of a letter to you,
+which will save me from the tedious dull business of systematic
+arrangement. Indeed, as all I have to say consists of unconnected
+remarks, anecdotes, scraps of old songs, &c., it would be impossible
+to give the work a beginning, a middle, and an end, which the critics
+insist to be absolutely necessary in a work. In my last, I told you my
+objections to the song you had selected for "My lodging is on the cold
+ground." On my visit the other day to my friend Chloris (that is the
+poetic name of the lovely goddess of my inspiration), she suggested an
+idea, which I, on my return from the visit, wrought into the following
+song.
+
+    My Chloris, mark how green the groves.[267]
+
+How do you like the simplicity and tenderness of this pastoral? I
+think it pretty well.
+
+I like you for entering so candidly and so kindly into the story of
+"_ma chere amie._" I assure you I was never more in earnest in my
+life, than in the account of that affair which I sent you in my last.
+Conjugal love is a passion which I deeply feel, and highly venerate;
+but, somehow, it does not make such a figure in poesy as that other
+species of the passion,
+
+    "Where love is liberty, and nature law."
+
+Musically speaking, the first is an instrument of which the gamut is
+scanty and confined, but the tones inexpressibly sweet, while the last
+has powers equal to all the intellectual modulations of the human
+soul. Still, I am a very poet in my enthusiasm of the passion. The
+welfare and happiness of the beloved object is the first and inviolate
+sentiment that pervades my soul; and whatever pleasures I might wish
+for, or whatever might be the raptures they would give me, yet, if
+they interfere with that first principle, it is having these pleasures
+at a dishonest price; and justice forbids and generosity disdains the
+purchase.
+
+Despairing of my own powers to give you variety enough in English
+songs, I have been turning over old collections, to pick out songs, of
+which the measure is something similar to what I want; and, with a
+little alteration, so as to suit the rhythm of the air exactly, to
+give you them for your work. Where the songs have hitherto been but
+little noticed, nor have ever been set to music, I think the shift a
+fair one. A song, which, under the same first verse, you will find in
+Ramsay's Tea-table Miscellany, I have cut down for an English dress to
+your "Dainty Davie," as follows:--
+
+    It was the charming month of May.[268]
+
+You may think meanly of this, but take a look at the bombast original,
+and you will be surprised that I have made so much of it. I have
+finished my song to "Rothemurche's rant," and you have Clarke to
+consult as to the set of the air for singing.
+
+    Lassie wi' the lint-white locks, &c.[269]
+
+This piece has at least the merit of being a regular pastoral: the
+vernal morn, the summer noon, the autumnal evening, and the winter
+night, are regularly rounded. If you like it, well; if not, I will
+insert it in the Museum.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 267: Song CCXXXI.]
+
+[Footnote 268: Song CCXXXII.]
+
+[Footnote 269: Song CCXXXIII.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCIV.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[Sir Walter Scott remarked, on the lyrics of Burns, "that at last the
+writing a series of songs for large musical collections degenerated
+into a slavish labour which no talents could support."]
+
+I am out of temper that you should set so sweet, so tender an air, as
+"Deil tak the wars," to the foolish old verses. You talk of the
+silliness of "Saw ye my father?"--By heavens! the odds is gold to
+brass! Besides, the old song, though now pretty well modernized into
+the Scottish language, is originally, and in the early editions, a
+bungling low imitation of the Scottish manner, by that genius Tom
+D'Urfey, so has no pretensions to be a Scottish production. There is a
+pretty English song by Sheridan, in the "Duenna," to this air, which
+is out of sight superior to D'Urfey's. It begins,
+
+    "When sable night each drooping plant restoring."
+
+The air, if I understand the expression of it properly, is the very
+native language of simplicity, tenderness, and love. I have again gone
+over my song to the tune.
+
+Now for my English song to "Nancy's to the greenwood," &c.
+
+    Farewell thou stream that winding flows.[270]
+
+There is an air, "The Caledonian Hunt's Delight," to which I wrote a
+song that, you will find in Johnson, "Ye banks and braes o' bonnie
+Doon:" this air I think might find a place among your hundred, as Lear
+says of his knights. Do you know the history of the air? It is curious
+enough. A good many years ago, Mr. James Miller, writer in your good
+town, a gentleman whom possibly you know, was in company with our
+friend Clarke; and talking of Scottish music, Miller expressed an
+ardent ambition to be able to compose a Scots air. Mr. Clarke, partly
+by way of joke, told him to keep to the black keys of the harpsichord,
+and preserve some kind of rhythm, and he would infallibly compose a
+Scots air. Certain it is that, in a few days, Mr. Miller produced the
+rudiments of an air, which Mr. Clarke, with some touches and
+corrections, fashioned into the tune in question. Ritson, you know,
+has the same story of the black keys; but this account which I have
+just given you, Mr. Clarke informed me of several years ago. Now, to
+show you how difficult it is to trace the origin of our airs, I have
+heard it repeatedly asserted that this was an Irish air; nay, I met
+with an Irish gentleman who affirmed he had heard it in Ireland among
+the old women; while, on the other hand, a countess informed me, that
+the first person who introduced the air into this country, was a
+baronet's lady of her acquaintance, who took down the notes from an
+itinerant piper in the Isle of Man. How difficult, then, to ascertain
+the truth respecting our poesy and music! I, myself, have lately seen
+a couple of ballads sung through the streets of Dumfries, with my name
+at the head of them as the author, though it was the first time I had
+ever seen them.
+
+I thank you for admitting "Craigieburn-wood;" and I shall take care to
+furnish you with a new chorus. In fact, the chorus was not my work,
+but a part of some old verses to the air. If I can catch myself in a
+more than ordinarily propitious moment, I shall write a new
+"Craigieburn-wood" altogether. My heart is much in the theme.
+
+I am ashamed, my dear fellow, to make the request; 'tis dunning your
+generosity; but in a moment when I had forgotten whether I was rich or
+poor, I promised Chloris a copy of your songs. It wrings my honest
+pride to write you this; but an ungracious request is doubly so by a
+tedious apology. To make you some amends, as soon as I have extracted
+the necessary information out of them, I will return you Ritson's
+volumes.
+
+The lady is not a little proud that she is to make so distinguished a
+figure in your collection, and I am not a little proud that I have it
+in my power to please her so much. Lucky it is for your patience that
+my paper is done, for when I am in a scribbling humour, I know not
+when to give over.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 270: Song CCXXXIV.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCV.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[Willy and Phely, in one of the lyrics which this letter contained,
+carry on the pleasant bandying of praise till compliments grow scarce,
+and the lovers are reduced to silence.]
+
+_19th November, 1794._
+
+You see, my dear Sir, what a punctual correspondent I am; though,
+indeed, you may thank yourself for the _tedium_ of my letters, as you
+have so flattered me on my horsemanship with my favourite hobby, and
+have praised the grace of his ambling so much, that I am scarcely ever
+off his back. For instance, this morning, though a keen blowing frost,
+in my walk before breakfast, I finished my duet, which you were
+pleased to praise so much. Whether I have uniformly succeeded, I will
+not say; but here it is for you, though it is not an hour old.
+
+    O Philly, happy be the day.[271]
+
+Tell me honestly how you like it, and point out whatever you think
+faulty.
+
+I am much pleased with your idea of singing our songs in alternate
+stanzas, and regret that you did not hint it to me sooner. In those
+that remain, I shall have it in my eye. I remember your objections to
+the name Philly, but it is the common abbreviation of Phillis. Sally,
+the only other name that suits, has to my ear a vulgarity about it,
+which unfits it, for anything except burlesque. The legion of Scottish
+poetasters of the day, whom your brother editor, Mr. Ritson, ranks
+with me as my coevals, have always mistaken vulgarity for simplicity;
+whereas, simplicity is as much _eloignee_ from vulgarity on the one
+hand, as from affected point and puerile conceit on the other.
+
+I agree with you as to the air, "Craigieburn-wood," that a chorus
+would, in some degree, spoil the effect, and shall certainly have
+none in my projected song to it. It is not, however, a case in point
+with "Rothemurche;" there, as in "Roy's Wife of Aldivalloch," a chorus
+goes, to my taste, well enough. As to the chorus going first, that is
+the case with "Roy's Wife," as well as "Rothemurche." In fact, in the
+first part of both tunes, the rhythm is so peculiar and irregular, and
+on that irregularity depends so much of their beauty, that we must
+e'en take them with all their wildness, and humour the verse
+accordingly. Leaving out the starting note in both tunes, has, I
+think, an effect that no regularity could counterbalance the want of.
+
+     Try,         {Oh Roy's wife of Aldivalloch.
+                  {O lassie wi' the lint-white locks.
+
+and
+
+     compare with {Roy's wife of Aldivalloch.
+                  {Lassie wi the lint-white locks.
+
+Does not the lameness of the prefixed syllable strike you? In the last
+case, with the true furor of genius, you strike at once into the wild
+originality of the air; whereas, in the first insipid method, it is
+like the grating screw of the pins before the fiddle is brought into
+tune. This is my taste; if I am wrong, I beg pardon of the
+_cognoscenti._
+
+"The Caledonian Hunt" is so charming, that it would make any subject
+in a song go down; but pathos is certainly its native tongue. Scottish
+bacchanalians we certainly want, though the few we have are excellent.
+For instance, "Todlin hame," is, for wit and humour, an unparalleled
+composition; And "Andrew and his cutty gun" is the work of a master.
+By the way, are you not quite vexed to think that those men of genius,
+for such they certainly were, who composed our fine Scottish lyrics,
+should be unknown? It has given me many a heart-ache. Apropos to
+bacchanalian songs in Scottish, I composed one yesterday, for an air I
+like much--"Lumps o' pudding."
+
+Contented wi' little and cantie wi' mair.[272]
+
+If you do not relish this air, I will send it to Johnson.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 271: Song CCXXXV.]
+
+[Footnote 272: Song CCXXXVI.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCVI.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[The instrument which the poet got from the braes of Athol, seems of
+an order as rude and incapable of fine sounds as the whistles which
+school-boys make in spring from the smaller boughs of the plane-tree.]
+
+Since yesterday's penmanship, I have framed a couple of English
+stanzas, by way of an English song to "Roy's Wife." You will allow me,
+that in this instance my English corresponds in sentiment with the
+Scottish.
+
+    Canst thou leave me thus, my Katy?[273]
+
+Well! I think this, to be done in two or three turns across my room,
+and with two or three pinches of Irish blackguard, is not so far
+amiss. You see I am determined to have my quantum of applause from
+somebody.
+
+Tell my friend Allan (for I am sure that we only want the trifling
+circumstance of being known to one another, to be the best friends on
+earth) that I much suspect he has, in his plates, mistaken the figure
+of the stock and horn. I have, at last, gotten one, but it is a very
+rude instrument. It is comprised of three parts; the stock, which is
+the hinder thigh bone of a sheep, such as you see in a mutton ham; the
+horn, which is a common Highland cow's horn, cut off at the smaller
+end, until the aperture be large enough to admit the stock to be
+pushed up through the horn until it be held by the thicker end of the
+thigh-bone; and lastly, an oaten reed exactly cut and notched like
+that which you see every shepherd boy have, when the corn-stems are
+green and full grown. The reed is not made fast in the bone, but is
+held by the lips, and plays loose in the smaller end of the stock;
+while the stock, with the horn hanging on its larger end, is held by
+the hands in playing. The stock has six or seven ventages on the upper
+side, and one back-ventage, like the common flute. This of mine was
+made by a man from the braes of Athole, and is exactly what the
+shepherds wont to use in that country.
+
+However, either it is not quite properly bored in the holes, or else
+we have not the art of blowing it rightly; for we can make little of
+it. If Mr. Allan chooses, I will send him a sight of mine, as I look
+on myself to be a kind of brother-brush with him. "Pride in poets is
+nae sin;" and I will say it, that I look on Mr. Allan and Mr. Burns to
+be the only genuine and real painters of Scottish costume in the
+world.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 273: Song CCXXXVII.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCVII.
+
+
+TO PETER MILLER, JUN., ESQ.,
+
+OF DALSWINTON.
+
+[In a conversation with James Perry, editor of the Morning Chronicle,
+Mr. Miller, who was then member for the Dumfries boroughs, kindly
+represented the poverty of the poet and the increasing number of his
+family: Perry at once offered fifty pounds a year for any
+contributions he might choose to make to his newspaper: the reasons
+for his refusal are stated in this letter.]
+
+_Dumfries, Nov. 1794._
+
+DEAR SIR,
+
+Your offer is indeed truly generous, and most sincerely do I thank you
+for it; but in my present situation, I find that I dare not accept it.
+You well know my political sentiments; and were I an insular
+individual, unconnected with a wife and a family of children, with the
+most fervid enthusiasm I would have volunteered my services: I then
+could and would have despised all consequences that might have ensued.
+
+My prospect in the Excise is something; at least it is, encumbered as
+I am with the welfare, the very existence, of near half-a-score of
+helpless individuals, what I dare not sport with.
+
+In the mean time, they are most welcome to my Ode; only, let them
+insert it as a thing they have met with by accident and unknown to
+me.--Nay, if Mr. Perry, whose honour, after your character of him, I
+cannot doubt; if he will give me an address and channel by which
+anything will come safe from those spies with which he may be certain
+that his correspondence is beset, I will now and then send him any
+bagatelle that I may write. In the present hurry of Europe, nothing
+but news and politics will be regarded; but against the days of peace,
+which Heaven send soon, my little assistance may perhaps fill up an
+idle column of a newspaper. I have long had it in my head to try my
+hand in the way of little prose essays, which I propose sending into
+the world though the medium of some newspaper; and should these be
+worth his while, to these Mr. Perry shall be welcome; and all my
+reward shall be, his treating me with his paper, which, by the bye, to
+anybody who has the least relish for wit, is a high treat indeed.
+
+With the most grateful esteem I am ever,
+
+Dear Sir,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCVIII.
+
+
+TO MR. SAMUEL CLARKE, JUN.,
+
+DUMFRIES.
+
+[Political animosities troubled society during the days of Burns, as
+much at least as they disturb it now--this letter is an instance of
+it.]
+
+_Sunday Morning._
+
+DEAR SIR,
+
+I was, I know, drunk last night, but I am sober this morning. From the
+expressions Capt. ---- made use of to me, had I had no-body's welfare
+to care for but my own, we should certainly have come, according to
+the manners of the world, to the necessity of murdering one another
+about the business. The words were such as, generally, I believe, end
+in a brace of pistols; but I am still pleased to think that I did not
+ruin the peace and welfare of a wife and a family of children in a
+drunken squabble. Farther, you know that the report of certain
+political opinions being mine, has already once before brought me to
+the brink of destruction. I dread lest last night's business may be
+misrepresented in the same way.--You, I beg, will take care to prevent
+it. I tax your wish for Mr. Burns' welfare with the task of waiting as
+soon as possible, on every gentleman who was present, and state this
+to him, and, as you please, show him this letter. What, after all, was
+the obnoxious toast? "May our success in the present war be equal to
+the justice of our cause."--A toast that the most outrageous frenzy of
+loyalty cannot object to. I request and beg that this morning you will
+wait on the parties present at the foolish dispute. I shall only add,
+that I am truly sorry that a man who stood so high in my estimation as
+Mr. ----, should use me in the manner in which I conceive he has done.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCIX.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[Burns allowed for the songs which Wolcot wrote for Thomson a degree
+of lyric merit which the world has refused to sanction.]
+
+_December, 1794._
+
+It is, I assure you, the pride of my heart to do anything to forward
+or add to the value of your book; and as I agree with you that the
+jacobite song in the Museum to "There'll never be peace till Jamie
+comes hame," would not so well consort with Peter Pindar's excellent
+love-song to that air, I have just framed for you the following:--
+
+    Now in her green mantle, &c.[274]
+
+How does this please you? As to the point of time for the expression,
+in your proposed print from my "Sodger's Return," it must certainly be
+at--"She gaz'd." The interesting dubiety and suspense taking
+possession of her countenance, and the gushing fondness, with a
+mixture of roguish playfulness, in his, strike me as things of which a
+master will make a great deal. In great haste, but in great truth,
+yours,
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 274: Song CCXXXVIII.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCX.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[In this brief and off-hand way Burns bestows on Thompson one of the
+finest songs ever dedicated to the cause of human freedom.]
+
+_January_, 1795.
+
+I fear for my songs; however, a few may please, yet originality is a
+coy feature in composition, and in a multiplicity of efforts in the
+same style, disappears altogether. For these three thousand years, we
+poetic folks have been describing the spring, for instance; and as the
+spring continues the same, there must soon be a sameness in the
+imagery, &c., of these said rhyming folks.
+
+A great critic (Aikin) on songs, says that love and wine are the
+exclusive themes for song-writing. The following is on neither
+subject, and consequently is no song; but will be allowed, I think, to
+be two or three pretty good prose thoughts inverted into rhyme.
+
+    Is there for honest poverty.[275]
+
+I do not give you the foregoing song for your book, but merely by way
+of _vive la bagatelle_; for the piece is not really poetry. How will
+the following do for "Craigieburn-wood?"--
+
+    Sweet fa's the eve on Craigieburn.[276]
+
+Farewell! God bless you!
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 275: Song CCLXIV.]
+
+[Footnote 276: Song CCXLV.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCXI.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[Of this letter, Dr. Currie writes "the poet must have been tipsy
+indeed to abuse sweet Ecclefechan at this rate;" it is one of the
+prettiest of our Annandale villages, and the birth-place of that
+distinguished biographer.]
+
+_Ecclefechan_, 7_th February_, 1795.
+
+MY DEAR THOMSON,
+
+You cannot have any idea of the predicament in which I write to you.
+In the course of my duty as supervisor (in which capacity I have acted
+of late), I came yesternight to this unfortunate, wicked little
+village. I have gone forward, but snows of ten feet deep have impeded
+my progress: I have tried to "gae back the gate I cam again," but the
+same obstacle has shut me up within insuperable bars. To add to my
+misfortune, since dinner, a scraper has been torturing catgut, in
+sounds that would have insulted the dying agonies of a sow under the
+hands of a butcher, and thinks himself, on that very account,
+exceeding good company. In fact, I have been in a dilemma, either to
+get drunk, to forget these miseries; or to hang myself, to get rid of
+them: like a prudent man (a character congenial to my every thought,
+word, and deed), I of two evils have chosen the least, and am very
+drunk, at your service!
+
+I wrote you yesterday from Dumfries. I had not time then to tell you
+all I wanted to say; and, Heaven knows, at present have not capacity.
+
+Do you know an air--I am sure you must know it--"We'll gang nae mair
+to yon town?" I think, in slowish time, it would make an excellent
+song. I am highly delighted with it; and if you should think it worthy
+of your attention, I have a fair dame in my eye to whom I would
+consecrate it.
+
+As I am just going to bed, I wish you a good night.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCXII.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[The song of Caledonia, in honour of Mrs. Burns, was accompanied by
+two others in honour of the poet's mistress: the muse was high in
+song, and used few words in the letter which enclosed them.]
+
+_May, 1795._
+
+    O stay, sweet warbling woodlark, stay![277]
+
+Let me know, your very first leisure, how you like this song.
+
+    Long, long the night.[278]
+
+How do you like the foregoing? The Irish air, "Humours of Glen," is a
+great favourite of mine, and as, except the silly stuff in the "Poor
+Soldier," there are not any decent verses for it, I have written for
+it as follows:--
+
+    Their groves o' sweet myrtle let foreign lands reckon.[279]
+
+Let me hear from you.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 277: Song CCXLIX.]
+
+[Footnote 278: Song CCL.]
+
+[Footnote 279: Song CCLI.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCXIII.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[The poet calls for praise in this letter, a species of coin which is
+always ready.]
+
+      How cruel are the parents.[280]
+
+    Mark yonder pomp of costly fashion.[281]
+
+Well, this is not amiss. You see how I answer your orders--your tailor
+could not be more punctual. I am just now in a high fit for poetizing,
+provided that the strait-jacket of criticism don't cure me. If you
+can, in a post or two, administer a little of the intoxicating potion
+of your applause, it will raise your humble servant's phrensy to any
+height you want. I am at this moment "holding high converse" with the
+muses, and have not a word to throw away on such a prosaic dog as you
+are.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 280: Song CCLIII.]
+
+[Footnote 281: Song CCLIV.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCXIV.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[Thomson at this time sent the drawing to Burns in which David Allan
+sought to embody the "Cotter's Saturday Night:" it displays at once
+the talent and want of taste of the ingenious artist.]
+
+_May, 1795._
+
+Ten thousand thanks for your elegant present--though I am ashamed of
+the value of it, being bestowed on a man who has not, by any means,
+merited such an instance of kindness. I have shown it to two or three
+judges of the first abilities here, and they all agree with me in
+classing it as a first-rate production. My phiz is sae kenspeckle,
+that the very joiner's apprentice, whom Mrs. Burns employed to break
+up the parcel (I was out of town that day) knew it at once. My most
+grateful compliments to Allan, who has honoured my rustic music so
+much with his masterly pencil. One strange coincidence is, that the
+little one who is making the felonious attempt on the cat's tail, is
+the most striking likeness of an ill-deedie, d--n'd, wee,
+rumblegairie urchin of mine, whom from that propensity to witty
+wickedness, and man-fu' mischief, which, even at twa days auld, I
+foresaw would form the striking features of his disposition, I named
+Willie Nicol, after a certain friend of mine, who is one of the
+masters of a grammar-school in a city which shall be nameless.
+
+Give the enclosed epigram to my much-valued friend Cunningham, and
+tell him, that on Wednesday I go to visit a friend of his, to whom his
+friendly partiality in speaking of me in a manner introduced me--I
+mean a well-known military and literary character, Colonel Dirom.
+
+You do not tell me how you liked my two last songs. Are they
+condemned?
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCXV.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[In allusion to the preceding letter, Thomson says to Burns, "You
+really make me blush when you tell me you have not merited the drawing
+from me." The "For a' that and a' that," which went with this letter,
+was, it is believed, the composition of Mrs. Riddel.]
+
+In "Whistle, and I'll come to ye, my lad," the iteration of that line
+is tiresome to my ear. Here goes what I think is an improvement:--
+
+    Oh whistle, and I'll come to ye, my lad;
+    Oh whistle, and I'll come to ye, my lad;
+    Tho' father and mother and a' should gae mad,
+    Thy Jeanie will venture wi' ye, my lad.
+
+In fact, a fair dame, at whose shrine I, the priest of the Nine, offer
+up the incense of Parnassus--a dame whom the Graces have attired in
+witchcraft, and whom the Loves have armed with lightning--a fair one,
+herself the heroine of the song, insists on the amendment, and dispute
+her commands if you dare?
+
+    This is no my ain lassie,[282] &c.
+
+Do you know that you have roused the torpidity of Clarke at last? He
+has requested me to write three or four songs for him, which he is to
+set to music himself. The enclosed sheet contains two songs for him,
+which please to present to my valued friend Cunningham.
+
+I enclose the sheet open, both for your inspection, and that you may
+copy the song "Oh bonnie was yon rosy brier." I do not know whether I
+am right, but that song pleases me; and as it is extremely probable
+that Clarke's newly-roused celestial spark will be soon smothered in
+the fogs of indolence, if you like the song, it may go as Scottish
+verses to the air of "I wish my love was in a mire;" and poor
+Erskine's English lines may follow.
+
+I enclose you a "For a' that and a' that," which was never in print:
+it is a much superior song to mine. I have been told that it was
+composed by a lady, and some lines written on the blank leaf of a copy
+of the last edition of my poems, presented to the lady whom, in so
+many fictitious reveries of passion, but with the most ardent
+sentiments of real friendship, I have so often sung under the name of
+Chloris:--
+
+To Chloris.[283]
+
+    _Une bagatelle de l'amitie._
+
+COILA.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 282: Song CCLV.]
+
+[Footnote 283: Poems, No. CXLVI.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCXVI.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[In the double service of poesy and music the poet had to sing of
+pangs which he never endured, from beauties to whom he had never
+spoken.]
+
+    FORLORN my love, no comfort near, &c.[284]
+
+How do you like the foregoing? I have written it within this hour: so
+much for the speed of my Pegasus; but what say you to his bottom?
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 284: Song CCLVIII.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCXVII.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[The unexampled brevity of Burns's letters, and the extraordinary flow
+and grace of his songs, towards the close of his life, have not now
+for the first time been remarked.]
+
+    LAST May a braw wooer.[285]
+
+    Why, why tell thy lover.[286]
+
+Such is the peculiarity of the rhythm of this air, that I find it
+impossible to make another stanza to suit it.
+
+I am at present quite occupied with the charming sensations of the
+toothache, so have not a word to spare.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 285: Song CCLIX.]
+
+[Footnote 286: Song CCLX.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCXVIII.
+
+
+TO MRS. RIDDEL.
+
+_Supposes himself to be writing from the dead to the living._
+
+[Ill health, poverty, a sense of dependence, with the much he had
+deserved of his country, and the little he had obtained, were all at
+this time pressing on the mind of Burns, and inducing him to forget
+what was due to himself as well as to the courtesies of life.]
+
+MADAM,
+
+I dare say that this is the first epistle you ever received from this
+nether world. I write you from the regions of Hell, amid the horrors
+of the damned. The time and the manner of my leaving your earth I do
+not exactly know, as I took my departure in the heat of a fever of
+intoxication contracted at your too hospitable mansion; but, on my
+arrival here, I was fairly tried, and sentenced to endure the
+purgatorial tortures of this infernal confine for the space of
+ninety-nine years, eleven months, and twenty-nine days, and all on
+account of the impropriety of my conduct yesternight under your roof.
+Here am I, laid on a bed of pitiless furze, with my aching head
+reclined on a pillow of ever-piercing thorn, while an infernal
+tormentor, wrinkled, and old, and cruel, his name I think is
+_Recollection_, with a whip of scorpions, forbids peace or rest to
+approach me, and keeps anguish eternally awake. Still, Madam, if I
+could in any measure be reinstated in the good opinion of the fair
+circle whom my conduct last night so much injured, I think it would
+be an alleviation to my torments. For this reason I trouble you with
+this letter. To the men of the company I will make no apology.--Your
+husband, who insisted on my drinking more than I chose, has no right
+to blame me; and the other gentlemen were partakers of my guilt. But
+to you, Madam, I have much to apologize. Your good opinion I valued as
+one of the greatest acquisitions I had made on earth, and I was truly
+a beast to forfeit it. There was a Miss I----, too, a woman of fine
+sense, gentle and unassuming manners--do make on my part, a miserable
+d--mned wretch's best apology to her. A Mrs. G----, a charming woman,
+did me the honour to be prejudiced in my favour; this makes me hope
+that I have not outraged her beyond all forgiveness.--To all the other
+ladies please present my humblest contrition for my conduct, and my
+petition for their gracious pardon. O all ye powers of decency and
+decorum! whisper to them that my errors, though great, were
+involuntary--that an intoxicated man is the vilest of beasts--that it
+was not in my nature to be brutal to any one--that to be rude to a
+woman, when in my senses, was impossible with me--but--
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Regret! Remorse! Shame! ye three hell-hounds that ever dog my steps
+and bay at my heels, spare me! spare me!
+
+Forgive the offences, and pity the perdition of, Madam, your humble
+slave.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCXIX.
+
+
+TO MRS. RIDDEL.
+
+[Mrs. Riddel, it is said, possessed many more of the poet's letters
+than are printed--she sometimes read them to friends who could feel
+their wit, and, like herself, make allowance for their freedom.]
+
+_Dumfries, 1795._
+
+Mr. Burns's compliments to Mrs. Riddel--is much obliged to her for her
+polite attention in sending him the book. Owing to Mr. B.'s being at
+present acting as supervisor of excise, a department that occupies his
+every hour of the day, he has not that time to spare which is
+necessary for any belle-lettre pursuit; but, as he will, in a week or
+two, again return to his wonted leisure, he will then pay that
+attention to Mrs. R.'s beautiful song, "To thee, loved Nith"--which it
+so well deserves. When "Anacharsis' Travels" come to hand, which Mrs.
+Riddel mentioned as her gift to the public library, Mr. B. will thank
+her for a reading of it previous to her sending it to the library, as
+it is a book Mr. B. has never seen: he wishes to have a longer perusal
+of them than the regulations of the library allow.
+
+_Friday Eve._
+
+P.S. Mr. Burns will be much obliged to Mrs. Riddel if she will favour
+him with a perusal of any of her poetical pieces which he may not have
+seen.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCXX.
+
+
+TO MISS LOUISA FONTENELLE.
+
+[That Miss Fontenelle, as an actress, did not deserve the high praise
+which Burns bestows may be guessed: the lines to which he alludes were
+recited by the lady on her benefit-night, and are printed among his
+Poems.]
+
+_Dumfries, December, 1795._
+
+MADAM,
+
+In such a bad world as ours, those who add to the scanty sum of our
+pleasures, are positively our benefactors. To you, Madam, on our
+humble Dumfries boards, I have been more indebted for entertainment
+than ever I was in prouder theatres. Your charms as a woman would
+insure applause to the most indifferent actress, and your theatrical
+talents would insure admiration to the plainest figure. This, Madam,
+is not the unmeaning or insidious compliment of the frivolous or
+interested; I pay it from the same honest impulse that the sublime of
+nature excites my admiration, or her beauties give me delight.
+
+Will the foregoing lines be of any service to you in your approaching
+benefit-night? If they will I shall be prouder of my muse than ever.
+They are nearly extempore: I know they have no great merit; but though
+they should add but little to the entertainment of the evening, they
+give me the happiness of an opportunity to declare how much I have the
+honour to be, &c.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCXXI.
+
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP.
+
+[Of the sweet girl to whom Burns alludes in this letter he was
+deprived during this year: her death pressed sorely on him.]
+
+_15th December, 1795._
+
+MY DEAR FRIEND,
+
+As I am in a complete Decemberish humour, gloomy, sullen, stupid as
+even the Deity of Dulness herself could wish, I shall not drawl out a
+heavy letter with a number of heavier apologies for my late silence.
+Only one I shall mention, because I know you will sympathize in it:
+these four months, a sweet little girl, my youngest child, has been so
+ill, that every day, a week or less, threatened to terminate her
+existence. There had much need be many pleasures annexed to the states
+of husband and father, for, God knows, they have many peculiar cares.
+I cannot describe to you the anxious, sleepless hours these ties
+frequently give me. I see a train of helpless little folks; me and my
+exertions all their stay: and on what a brittle thread does the life
+of man hang! If I am nipt off at the command of fate! even in all the
+vigour of manhood as I am--such things happen every day--gracious God!
+what would become of my little flock! 'Tis here that I envy your
+people of fortune.--A father on his death-bed, taking an everlasting
+leave of his children, has indeed woe enough; but the man of competent
+fortune leaves his sons and daughters independency and friends; while
+I--but I shall run distracted if I think any longer on the subject!
+
+To leave talking of the matter so gravely, I shall sing with the old
+Scots ballad--
+
+    "O that I had ne'er been married,
+      I would never had nae care;
+    Now I've gotten wife and bairns,
+      They cry crowdie! evermair.
+
+    Crowdie! ance; crowdie! twice;
+      Crowdie! three times in a day;
+    An ye crowdie! ony mair,
+      Ye'll crowdie! a' my meal away."--
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_December 24th._
+
+We have had a brilliant theatre here this season; only, as all other
+business does, it experiences a stagnation of trade from the
+epidemical complaint of the country, _want of cash._ I mentioned our
+theatre merely to lug in an occasional Address which I wrote for the
+benefit-night of one of the actresses, and which is as follows:--
+
+ADDRESS,
+
+SPOKEN BY MISS FONTENELLE ON HER BENEFIT-NIGHT, DEC. 4, 1795, AT
+THE THEATRE, DUMFRIES.
+
+Still anxious to secure your partial favour, &c.
+
+_25th, Christmas-Morning._
+
+This, my much-loved friend, is a morning of wishes--accept mine--so
+heaven hear me as they are sincere! that blessings may attend your
+steps, and affliction know you not! In the charming words of my
+favourite author, "The Man of Feeling," "May the Great Spirit bear up
+the weight of thy gray hairs, and blunt the arrow that brings them
+rest!"
+
+Now that I talk of authors, how do you like Cowper? Is not the "Task"
+a glorious poem? The religion of the "Task," bating a few scraps of
+Calvinistic divinity, is the religion of God and nature; the religion
+that exalts, that ennobles man. Were not you to send me your "Zeluco,"
+in return for mine? Tell me how you like my marks and notes through
+the book. I would not give a farthing for a book, unless I were at
+liberty to blot it with my criticisms.
+
+I have lately collected, for a friend's perusal, all my letters; I
+mean those which I first sketched, in a rough draught, and afterwards
+wrote out fair. On looking over some old musty papers, which, from
+time to time, I had parcelled by, as trash that were scarce worth
+preserving, and which yet at the same time I did not care to destroy;
+I discovered many of these rude sketches, and have written, and am
+writing them out, in a bound MS. for my friend's library. As I wrote
+always to you the rhapsody of the moment, I cannot find a single
+scroll to you, except one about the commencement of our acquaintance.
+If there were any possible conveyance, I would send you a perusal of
+my book.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCXXII.
+
+
+TO MR. ALEXANDER FINDLATER,
+
+SUPERVISOR OF EXCISE, DUMFRIES.
+
+[The person to whom this letter is addressed, is the same who lately
+denied that Burns was harshly used by the Board of Excise: but those,
+and they are many, who believe what the poet wrote to Erskine, of Mar,
+cannot agree with Mr. Findlater.]
+
+SIR,
+
+Enclosed are the two schemes. I would not have troubled you with the
+collector's one, but for suspicion lest it be not right. Mr. Erskine
+promised me to make it right, if you will have the goodness to show him
+how. As I have no copy of the scheme for myself, and the alterations
+being very considerable from what it was formerly, I hope that I shall
+have access to this scheme I send you, when I come to face up my new
+books. _So much for schemes._--And that no scheme to betray a FRIEND, or
+mislead a STRANGER; to seduce a YOUNG GIRL, or rob a HEN-ROOST; to
+subvert LIBERTY, or bribe an EXCISEMAN; to disturb the GENERAL ASSEMBLY,
+or annoy a GOSSIPPING; to overthrow the credit of ORTHODOXY, or the
+authority of OLD SONGS; to oppose _your wishes_, or frustrate _my
+hopes_--MAY PROSPER--is the sincere wish and prayer of
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCXXIII.
+
+
+TO THE EDITOR OF THE MORNING CHRONICLE.
+
+[Cromek says, when a neighbour complained that his copy of the Morning
+Chronicle was not regularly delivered to him from the post-office, the
+poet wrote the following indignant letter to Perry on a leaf of his
+excise-book, but before it went to the post he reflected and recalled
+it.]
+
+_Dumfries, 1795._
+
+SIR,
+
+You will see by your subscribers' list, that I have been about nine
+months of that number.
+
+I am sorry to inform you, that in that time, seven or eight of your
+papers either have never been sent to me, or else have never reached me.
+To be deprived of any one number of the first newspaper in Great Britain
+for information, ability, and independence, is what I can ill brook and
+bear; but to be deprived of that most admirable oration of the Marquis
+of Lansdowne, when he made the great though ineffectual attempt (in the
+language of the poet, I fear too true), "to save a SINKING STATE"--this
+was a loss that I neither can nor will forgive you.--That paper, Sir,
+never reached me; but I demand it of you. I am a BRITON; and must be
+interested in the cause of LIBERTY:--I am a MAN; and the RIGHTS of HUMAN
+NATURE cannot be indifferent to me. However, do not let me mislead you:
+I am not a man in that situation of life, which, as your subscriber, can
+be of any consequence to you, in the eyes of those to whom SITUATION OF
+LIFE ALONE is the criterion of MAN.--I am but a plain tradesman, in this
+distant, obscure country town: but that humble domicile in which I
+shelter my wife and children is the CASTELLUM of a BRITON; and that
+scanty, hard-earned income which supports them is as truly my property,
+as the most magnificent fortune, of the most PUISSANT MEMBER of your
+HOUSE of NOBLES.
+
+These, Sir, are my sentiments; and to them I subscribe my name: and
+were I a man of ability and consequence enough to address the PUBLIC,
+with that name should they appear.
+
+I am, &c.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCXXIV.
+
+
+TO MR. HERON,
+
+OF HERON.
+
+[Of Patrick Heron, of Kerroughtree, something has been said in the
+notes on the Ballads which bear his name.]
+
+_Dumfries, 1794,_ or _1795._
+
+SIR,
+
+I enclose you some copies of a couple of political ballads; one of
+which, I believe, you have never seen. Would to Heaven I could make
+you master of as many votes in the Stewartry--but--
+
+              "Who does the utmost that he can,
+    Does well, acts nobly, angels could no more."
+
+In order to bring my humble efforts to bear with more effect on the
+foe, I have privately printed a good many copies of both ballads, and
+have sent them among friends all about the country.
+
+To pillory on Parnassus the rank reprobation of character, the utter
+dereliction of all principle, in a profligate junto which has not only
+outraged virtue, but violated common decency; which, spurning even
+hypocrisy as paltry iniquity below their daring;--to unmask their
+flagitiousness to the broadest day--to deliver such over to their
+merited fate, is surely not merely innocent, but laudable; is not only
+propriety, but virtue. You have already, as your auxiliary, the sober
+detestation of mankind on the heads or your opponents; and I swear by
+the lyre of Thalia to muster on your side all the votaries of honest
+laughter, and fair, candid ridicule!
+
+I am extremely obliged to you for your kind mention of my interests in
+a letter which Mr. Syme showed me. At present my situation in life
+must be in a great measure stationary, at least for two or three
+years. The statement is this--I am on the supervisors' list, and as we
+come on there by precedency, in two or three years I shall be at the
+head of that list, and be appointed _of course._ _Then_, a
+FRIEND might be of service to me in getting me into a place
+of the kingdom which I would like. A supervisor's income varies from
+about a hundred and twenty to two hundred a year; but the business is
+an incessant drudgery, and would be nearly a complete bar to every
+species of literary pursuit. The moment I am appointed supervisor, in
+the common routine, I may be nominated on the collector's list; and
+this is always a business purely of political patronage. A
+collector-ship varies much, from better than two hundred a year to
+near a thousand. They also come forward by precedency on the list; and
+have, besides a handsome income, a life of complete leisure. A life of
+literary leisure with a decent competency, is the summit of my wishes.
+It would be the prudish affectation of silly pride in me to say that I
+do not need, or would not be indebted to a political friend; at the
+same time, Sir, I by no means lay my affairs before you thus, to hook
+my dependent situation on your benevolence. If, in my progress of
+life, an opening should occur where the good offices of a gentleman of
+your public character and political consequence might bring me
+forward, I shall petition your goodness with the same frankness as I
+now do myself the honour to subscribe myself
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCXXV.
+
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP,
+
+IN LONDON.
+
+[In the correspondence of the poet with Mrs. Dunlop he rarely mentions
+Thomson's Collection of Songs, though his heart was set much upon it:
+in the Dunlop library there are many letters from the poet, it is
+said, which have not been published.]
+
+_Dumfries, 20th December, 1795._
+
+I have been prodigiously disappointed in this London journey of yours.
+In the first place, when your last to me reached Dumfries, I was in
+the country, and did not return until too late to answer your letter;
+in the next place, I thought you would certainly take this route; and
+now I know not what is become of you, or whether this may reach you at
+all. God grant that it may find you and yours in prospering health and
+good spirits! Do let me hear from you the soonest possible.
+
+As I hope to get a frank from my friend Captain Miller, I shall every
+leisure hour, take up the pen, and gossip away whatever comes first,
+prose or poetry, sermon or song. In this last article I have abounded
+of late. I have often mentioned to you a superb publication of
+Scottish songs which is making its appearance in your great
+metropolis, and where I have the honour to preside over the Scottish
+verse, as no less a personage than Peter Pindar does over the English.
+
+_December 29th._
+
+Since I began this letter, I have been appointed to act in the
+capacity of supervisor here, and I assure you, what with the load of
+business, and what with that business being new to me, I could
+scarcely have commanded ten minutes to have spoken to you, had you
+been in town, much less to have written you an epistle. This
+appointment is only temporary, and during the illness of the present
+incumbent; but I look forward to an early period when I shall be
+appointed in full form: a consummation devoutly to be wished! My
+political sins seem to be forgiven me.
+
+This is the season (New-year's-day is now my date) of wishing; and
+mine are most fervently offered up for you! May life to you be a
+positive blessing while it lasts, for your own sake; and that it may
+yet be greatly prolonged, is my wish for my own sake, and for the sake
+of the rest of your friends! What a transient business is life! Very
+lately I was a boy; but t'other day I was a young man; and I already
+begin to feel the rigid fibre and stiffening joints of old age coming
+fast o'er my frame. With all my follies of youth, and I fear, a few
+vices of manhood, still I congratulate myself on having had in early
+days religion strongly impressed on my mind. I have nothing to say to
+any one as to which sect he belongs to, or what creed he believes: but
+I look on the man, who is firmly persuaded of infinite wisdom and
+goodness, superintending and directing every circumstance that can
+happen in his lot--I felicitate such a man as having a solid
+foundation for his mental enjoyment; a firm prop and sure stay, in the
+hour of difficulty, trouble, and distress; and a never-failing anchor
+of hope, when he looks beyond the grave.
+
+_January 12th._
+
+You will have seen our worthy and ingenious friend, the Doctor, long
+ere this. I hope he is well, and beg to be remembered to him. I have
+just been reading over again, I dare say for the hundred and fiftieth
+time, his _View of Society and Manners_; and still I read it with
+delight. His humour is perfectly original--it is neither the humour of
+Addison, nor Swift, nor Sterne, nor of anybody but Dr. Moore. By the
+bye, you have deprived me of _Zeluco_, remember that, when you are
+disposed to rake up the sins of my neglect from among the ashes of my
+laziness.
+
+He has paid me a pretty compliment, by quoting me in his last
+publication.[287]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 287: Edward.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCXXVI.
+
+
+ADDRESS OF THE SCOTCH DISTILLERS
+
+TO THE RIGHT HON. WILLIAM PITT.
+
+[This ironical letter to the prime minister was found among the papers
+of Burns.]
+
+SIR,
+
+While pursy burgesses crowd your gate, sweating under the weight of
+heavy addresses, permit us, the quondam distillers in that part of
+Great Britain called Scotland, to approach you, not with venal
+approbation, but with fraternal condolence; not as what you are just
+now, or for some time have been; but as what, in all probability, you
+will shortly be.--We shall have the merit of not deserting our friends
+in the day of their calamity, and you will have the satisfaction of
+perusing at least one honest address. You are well acquainted with the
+dissection of human nature; nor do you need the assistance of a
+fellow-creature's bosom to inform you, that man is always a selfish,
+often a perfidious being.--This assertion, however the hasty
+conclusions of superficial observation may doubt of it, or the raw
+inexperience of youth may deny it, those who make the fatal experiment
+we have done, will feel.--You are a statesman, and consequently are
+not ignorant of the traffic of these corporation compliments--The
+little great man who drives the borough to market, and the very great
+man who buys the borough in that market, they two do the whole
+business; and you well know they, likewise, have their price. With
+that sullen disdain which you can so well assume, rise, illustrious
+Sir, and spurn these hireling efforts of venal stupidity. At best they
+are the compliments of a man's friends on the morning of his
+execution: they take a decent farewell, resign you to your fate, and
+hurry away from your approaching hour.
+
+If fame say true, and omens be not very much mistaken, you are about
+to make your exit from that world where the sun of gladness gilds the
+paths of prosperous man: permit us, great Sir, with the sympathy of
+fellow-feeling to hail your passage to the realms of ruin.
+
+Whether the sentiment proceed from the selfishness or cowardice of
+mankind is immaterial; but to point out to a child of misfortune those
+who are still more unhappy, is to give him some degree of positive
+enjoyment. In this light, Sir, our downfall may be again useful to
+you:--though not exactly in the same way, it is not perhaps the first
+time it has gratified your feelings. It is true, the triumph of your
+evil star is exceedingly despiteful.--At an age when others are the
+votaries of pleasure, or underlings in business, you had attained the
+highest wish of a British statesman; and with the ordinary date of
+human life, what a prospect was before you! Deeply rooted in _Royal
+favour_, you overshadowed the land. The birds of passage, which follow
+ministerial sunshine through every clime of political faith and
+manners, flocked to your branches; and the beasts of the field (the
+lordly possessors of hills and valleys) crowded under your shade. "But
+behold a watcher, a holy one, came down from heaven, and cried aloud,
+and said thus: Hew down the tree, and cut off his branches; shake off
+his leaves, and scatter his fruit; let the beasts get away from under
+it, and the fowls from his branches!" A blow from an unthought-of
+quarter, one of those terrible accidents which peculiarly mark the
+hand of Omnipotence, overset your career, and laid all your fancied
+honours in the dust. But turn your eyes, Sir, to the tragic scenes of
+our fate:--an ancient nation, that for many ages had gallantly
+maintained the unequal struggle for independence with her much more
+powerful neighbour, at last agrees to a union which should ever after
+make them one people. In consideration of certain circumstances, it
+was covenanted that the former should enjoy a stipulated alleviation
+in her share of the public burdens, particularly in that branch of
+the revenue called the Excise. This just privilege has of late given
+great umbrage to some interested, powerful individuals of the more
+potent part of the empire, and they have spared no wicked pains, under
+insidious pretexts, to subvert what they dared not openly to attack,
+from the dread which they yet entertained of the spirit of their
+ancient enemies.
+
+In this conspiracy we fell; nor did we alone suffer, our country was
+deeply wounded. A number of (we will say) respectable individuals,
+largely engaged in trade, where we were not only useful, but
+absolutely necessary to our country in her dearest interests; we, with
+all that was near and dear to us, were sacrificed without remorse, to
+the infernal deity of political expediency! We fell to gratify the
+wishes of dark envy, and the views of unprincipled ambition! Your
+foes, Sir, were avowed; were too brave to take an ungenerous
+advantage; _you_ fell in the face of day.--On the contrary, our
+enemies, to complete our overthrow, contrived to make their guilt
+appear the villany of a nation.--Your downfall only drags with you
+your private friends and partisans: in our misery are more or less
+involved the most numerous and most valuable part of the
+community--all those who immediately depend on the cultivation of the
+soil, from the landlord of a province, down to his lowest hind.
+
+Allow us, Sir, yet further, just to hint at another rich vein of
+comfort in the dreary regions of adversity;--the gratulations of an
+approving conscience. In a certain great assembly, of which you are a
+distinguished member, panegyrics on your private virtues have so often
+wounded your delicacy, that we shall not distress you with anything on
+the subject. There is, however, one part of your public conduct which
+our feelings will not permit us to pass in silence: our gratitude must
+trespass on your modesty; we mean, worthy Sir, your whole behaviour to
+the Scots Distillers.--In evil hours, when obtrusive recollection
+presses bitterly on the sense, let that, Sir, come like an healing
+angel, and speak the peace to your soul which the world can neither
+give nor take away.
+
+We have the honour to be,
+
+Sir,
+
+Your sympathizing fellow-sufferers,
+
+And grateful humble servants,
+
+JOHN BARLEYCORN--Praeses.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCXXVII.
+
+
+TO THE HON. PROVOST, BAILIES, AND
+
+TOWN COUNCIL OF DUMFRIES.
+
+[The Provost and Bailies complied at once with the modest request of
+the poet: both Jackson and Staig, who were heads of the town by turns,
+were men of taste and feeling.]
+
+GENTLEMEN,
+
+The literary taste and liberal spirit of your good town has so ably
+filled the various departments of your schools, as to make it a very
+great object for a parent to have his children educated in them.
+Still, to me, a stranger, with my large family, and very stinted
+income, to give my young ones that education I wish, at the high fees
+which a stranger pays, will bear hard upon me.
+
+Some years ago your good town did me the honour of making me an
+honorary burgess.--Will you allow me to request that this mark of
+distinction may extend so far, as to put me on a footing of a real
+freeman of the town, in the schools?
+
+If you are so very kind as to grant my request, it will certainly be a
+constant incentive to me to strain every nerve where I can officially
+serve you; and will, if possible, increase that grateful respect with
+which I have the honour to be,
+
+Gentlemen,
+
+Your devoted humble servant,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCXXVIII.
+
+
+TO MRS. RIDDEL.
+
+[Mrs. Riddel was, like Burns, a well-wisher to the great cause of
+human liberty, and lamented with him the excesses of the French
+Revolution.]
+
+_Dumfries, 20th January, 1796._
+
+I cannot express my gratitude to you, for allowing me a longer perusal
+of "Anacharsis." In fact, I never met with a book that bewitched me so
+much; and I, as a member of the library, must warmly feel the
+obligation you have laid us under. Indeed to me the obligation is
+stronger than to any other individual of our society; as "Anacharsis"
+is an indispensable desideratum to a son of the muses.
+
+The health you wished me in your morning's card, is, I think, flown
+from me for ever. I have not been able to leave my bed to-day till
+about an hour ago. These wickedly unlucky advertisements I lent (I did
+wrong) to a friend, and I am ill able to go in quest of him.
+
+The muses have not quite forsaken me. The following detached stanza I
+intend to interweave in some disastrous tale of a shepherd.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCXXIX.
+
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP.
+
+[It seems that Mrs. Dunlop regarded the conduct of Burns, for some
+months, with displeasure, and withheld or delayed her usual kind and
+charming communications.]
+
+_Dumfries, 31st January, 1796._
+
+These many months you have been two packets in my debt--what sin of
+ignorance I have committed against so highly-valued a friend I am
+utterly at a loss to guess. Alas! Madam, ill can I afford, at this
+time, to be deprived of any of the small remnant of my pleasures. I
+have lately drunk deep in the cup of affliction. The autumn robbed me
+of my only daughter and darling child, and that at a distance too, and
+so rapidly, as to put it out of my power to pay the last duties to
+her. I had scarcely begun to recover from that shock, when I became
+myself the victim of a most severe rheumatic fever, and long the die
+spun doubtful; until, after many weeks of a sick bed, it seems to have
+turned up life, and I am beginning to crawl across my room, and once
+indeed have been before my own door in the street.
+
+    "When pleasure fascinates the mental sight,
+      Affliction purifies the visual ray,
+    Religion hails the drear, the untried night,
+      And shuts, for ever shuts! life's doubtful day."
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCXXX.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[Cromek informed me, on the authority of Mrs. Burns, that the
+"handsome, elegant present" mentioned in this letter, was a common
+worsted shawl.]
+
+_February, 1796._
+
+Many thanks, my dear Sir, for your handsome, elegant present to Mrs.
+Burns, and for my remaining volume of P. Pindar. Peter is a delightful
+fellow, and a first favourite of mine. I am much pleased with your
+idea of publishing a collection of our songs in octavo, with etchings.
+I am extremely willing to lend every assistance in my power. The Irish
+airs I shall cheerfully undertake the task of finding verses for.
+
+I have already, you know, equipt three with words, and the other day I
+strung up a kind of rhapsody to another Hibernian melody, which I
+admire much.
+
+    Awa' wi' your witchcraft o' beauty's alarms.[288]
+
+If this will do, you have now four of my Irish engagement. In my
+by-past songs I dislike one thing, the name Chloris--I meant it as the
+fictitious name of a certain lady: but, on second thoughts, it is a
+high incongruity to have a Greek appellation to a Scottish pastoral
+ballad. Of this, and some things else, in my next: I have more
+amendments to propose. What you once mentioned of "flaxen locks" is
+just: they cannot enter into an elegant description of beauty. Of this
+also again--God bless you![289]
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 288: Song CCLXVI.]
+
+[Footnote 289: Our poet never explained what name he would have
+substituted for Chloris.--Mr. Thomson.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCXXXI.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[It is seldom that painting speaks in the spirit of poetry Burns
+perceived some of the blemishes of Allan's illustrations: but at that
+time little nature and less elegance entered into the embellishments
+of books.]
+
+_April, 1796._
+
+Alas! my dear Thomson, I fear it will be some time ere I tune my lyre
+again! "By Babel streams I have sat and wept" almost ever since I
+wrote you last; I have only known existence by the pressure of the
+heavy hand of sickness, and have counted time by the repercussions of
+pain! Rheumatism, cold, and fever have formed to me a terrible
+combination. I close my eyes in misery, and open them without hope. I
+look on the vernal day, and say with poor Fergusson,
+
+    "Say, wherefore has an all-indulgent heaven
+    Light to the comfortless and wretched given?"
+
+This will be delivered to you by Mrs. Hyslop, landlady of the Globe
+Tavern here, which for these many years has been my howff, and where
+our friend Clarke and I have had many a merry squeeze. I am highly
+delighted with Mr. Allan's etchings. "Woo'd an' married an' a'," is
+admirable! The grouping is beyond all praise. The expression of the
+figures, conformable to the story in the ballad, is absolutely
+faultless perfection. I next admire "Turnim-spike." What I like least
+is "Jenny said to Jockey." Besides the female being in her appearance
+* * * *, if you take her stooping into the account, she is at least two
+inches taller than her lover. Poor Cleghorn! I sincerely sympathize
+with him. Happy I am to think that he yet has a well-grounded hope of
+health and enjoyment in this world. As for me--but that is a sad
+subject.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCXXXII.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[The genius of the poet triumphed over pain and want,--his last songs
+are as tender and as true as any of his early compositions.]
+
+MY DEAR SIR,
+
+I once mentioned to you an air which I have long admired--"Here's a
+health to them that's awa, hiney," but I forget if you took any notice
+of it. I have just been trying to suit it with verses, and I beg leave
+to recommend the air to your attention once more. I have only begun
+it.
+
+[Here follow the first three stanzas of the song, beginning,
+
+    Here's a health to ane I loe dear;[290]
+
+the fourth was found among the poet's MSS. after his death.]
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 290: Song CCLXVII.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCXXXIII.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[John Lewars, whom the poet introduces to Thomson, was a brother
+gauger, and a kind, warm-hearted gentleman; Jessie Lewars was his
+sister, and at this time but in her teens.]
+
+This will be delivered by Mr. Lewars, a young fellow of uncommon
+merit. As he will be a day or two in town, you will have leisure, if
+you choose, to write me by him: and if you have a spare half-hour to
+spend with him, I shall place your kindness to my account. I have no
+copies of the songs I have sent you, and I have taken a fancy to
+review them all, and possibly may mend some of them; so when you have
+complete leisure, I will thank you for either the originals or
+copies.[291] I had rather be the author of five well-written songs than
+of ten otherwise. I have great hopes that the genial influence of the
+approaching summer will set me to rights, but as yet I cannot boast of
+returning health. I have now reason to believe that my complaint is a
+flying gout--a sad business!
+
+Do let me know how Cleghorn is, and remember me to him.
+
+This should have been delivered to you a month ago. I am still very
+poorly, but should like much to hear from you.
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 291: "It is needless to say that this revisal Burns did not
+live to perform."--Currie.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCXXXIV.
+
+
+TO MRS. RIDDEL,
+
+_Who had desired him to go to the Birth-Day Assembly on that day to
+show his loyalty._
+
+[This is the last letter which the poet wrote to this accomplished
+lady.]
+
+_Dumfries, 4th June, 1796._
+
+I am in such miserable health as to be utterly incapable of showing my
+loyalty in any way. Rackt as I am with rheumatisms, I meet every face
+with a greeting like that of Balak to Balaam--"Come, curse me Jacob;
+and come, defy me Israel!" So say I--Come, curse me that east wind;
+and come, defy me the north! Would you have me in such circumstances
+copy you out a love-song?
+
+I may perhaps see you on Saturday, but I will not be at the ball.--Why
+should I? "man delights not me, nor woman either!" Can you supply me
+with the song, "Let us all be unhappy together?"--do if you can, and
+oblige, _le pauvre miserable_
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCXXXV.
+
+
+TO MR. CLARKE,
+
+SCHOOLMASTER, FORFAR.
+
+[Who will say, after reading the following distressing letter, lately
+come to light, that Burns did not die in great poverty.]
+
+_Dumfries, 26th June, 1796._
+
+MY DEAR CLARKE,
+
+Still, still the victim of affliction! Were you to see the emaciated
+figure who now holds the pen to you, you would not know your old
+friend. Whether I shall ever get about again, is only known to Him,
+the Great Unknown, whose creature I am. Alas, Clarke! I begin to fear
+the worst.
+
+As to my individual self, I am tranquil, and would despise myself, if
+I were not; but Burns's poor widow, and half-a-dozen of his dear
+little ones--helpless orphans!--_there_ I am weak as a woman's tear.
+Enough of this! 'Tis half of my disease.
+
+I duly received your last, enclosing the note. It came extremely in
+time, and I am much obliged by your punctuality. Again I must request
+you to do me the same kindness. Be so very good, as, by return of
+post, to enclose me _another_ note. I trust you can do it without
+inconvenience, and it will seriously oblige me. If I must go, I shall
+leave a few friends behind me, whom I shall regret while consciousness
+remains. I know I shall live in their remembrance. Adieu, dear Clarke.
+That I shall ever see you again, is, I am afraid, highly improbable.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCXXXVI.
+
+
+TO MR. JAMES JOHNSON,
+
+EDINBURGH.
+
+["In this humble and delicate manner did poor Burns ask for a copy of
+a work of which he was principally the founder, and to which he had
+contributed _gratuitously_ not less than one hundred and eighty-four
+_original, altered, and collected_ songs! The editor has seen one
+hundred and eighty transcribed by his own hand, for the
+'Museum.'"--CROMEK. Will it be believed that this "humble
+request" of Burns was not complied with! The work was intended as a
+present to Jessie Lewars.]
+
+_Dumfries, 4th July, 1796._
+
+How are you, my dear friend, and how comes on your fifth volume? You
+may probably think that for some time past I have neglected you and
+your work; but, alas! the hand of pain, and sorrow, and care, has
+these many months lain heavy on me! Personal and domestic affliction
+have almost entirely banished that alacrity and life with which I used
+to woo the rural muse of Scotia. In the meantime let us finish what we
+have so well begun.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+You are a good, worthy, honest fellow, and have a good right to live
+in this world--because you deserve it. Many a merry meeting this
+publication has given us, and possibly it may give us more, though,
+alas! I fear it. This protracting, slow, consuming illness which hangs
+over me, will, I doubt much, my ever dear friend, arrest my sun before
+he has well reached his middle career, and will turn over the poet to
+other and far more important concerns than studying the brilliancy of
+wit, or the pathos of sentiment! However, _hope_ is the cordial of the
+human heart, and I endeavour to cherish it as well as I can.
+
+Let me hear from you as soon as convenient.--Your work is a great one;
+and now that it is finished, I see, if we were to begin again, two or
+three things that might be mended; yet I will venture to prophesy,
+that to future ages your publication will be the text-book and
+standard of Scottish song and music.
+
+I am ashamed to ask another favour of you, because you have been so
+very good already; but my wife has a very particular friend of hers, a
+young lady who sings well, to whom she wishes to present the "Scots
+Musical Museum." If you have a spare copy, will you be so obliging as
+to send it by the very first _fly_, as I am anxious to have it soon.
+
+The gentleman, Mr. Lewars, a particular friend of mine, will bring out
+any proofs (if they are ready) or any message you may have. I am
+extremely anxious for your work, as indeed I am for everything
+concerning you, and your welfare.
+
+Farewell,
+
+R. B.
+
+P. S. You should have had this when Mr. Lewars called on you, but his
+saddle-bags miscarried.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCXXXVII.
+
+
+TO MR. CUNNINGHAM.
+
+[Few of the last requests of the poet were effectual: Clarke, it is
+believed, did not send the second _note_ he wrote for: Johnson did not
+send the copy of the Museum which he requested, and the Commissioners
+of Excise refused the continuance of his full salary.]
+
+_Brow, Sea-bathing quarters, 7th July, 1796._
+
+MY DEAR CUNNINGHAM,
+
+I received yours here this moment, and am indeed highly flattered with
+the approbation of the literary circle you mention; a literary circle
+inferior to none in the two kingdoms. Alas! my friend, I fear the
+voice of the bard will soon be heard among you no more! For these
+eight or ten months I have been ailing, sometimes bedfast and
+sometimes not; but these last three months I have been tortured with
+an excruciating rheumatism, which has reduced me to nearly the last
+stage. You actually would not know me if you saw me--Pale, emaciated,
+and so feeble, as occasionally to need help from my chair--my spirits
+fled! fled! but I can no more on the subject--only the medical folks
+tell me that my last only chance is bathing and country-quarters, and
+riding.--The deuce of the matter is this; when an exciseman is off
+duty, his salary is reduced to 35_l._ instead of 50_l._--What way, in
+the name of thrift, shall I maintain myself, and keep a horse in
+country quarters--with a wife and five children at home, on 35_l._? I
+mention this, because I had intended to beg your utmost interest, and
+that of all the friends you can muster, to move our commissioners of
+excise to grant me the full salary; I dare say you know them all
+personally. If they do not grant it me, I must lay my account with an
+exit truly _en poete_--if I die not of disease, I must perish with
+hunger.
+
+I have sent you one of the songs; the other my memory does not serve
+me with, and I have no copy here; but I shall be at home soon, when I
+will send it you.--Apropos to being at home, Mrs. Burns threatens, in
+a week or two, to add one more to my paternal charge, which, if of the
+right gender, I intend shall be introduced to the world by the
+respectable designation of _Alexander Cunningham Burns._ My last was
+_James Glencairn_, so you can have no objection to the company of
+nobility. Farewell.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCXXXVIII.
+
+
+TO MR. GILBERT BURNS.
+
+[This letter contained heavy news for Gilbert Burns: the loss of a
+brother whom he dearly loved and admired, was not all, though the
+worst.]
+
+_10th July, 1796._
+
+DEAR BROTHER,
+
+It will be no very pleasing news to you to be told that I am
+dangerously ill, and not likely to get better. An inveterate
+rheumatism has reduced me to such a state of debility, and my appetite
+is so totally gone, that I can scarcely stand on my legs. I have been
+a week at sea-bathing, and I will continue there, or in a friend's
+house in the country, all the summer. God keep my wife and children:
+if I am taken from their head, they will be poor indeed. I have
+contracted one or two serious debts, partly from my illness these many
+months, partly from too much thoughtlessness as to expense, when I
+came to town, that will cut in too much on the little I leave them in
+your hands. Remember me to my mother.
+
+Yours,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCXXXIX.
+
+
+TO MR. JAMES ARMOUR,
+
+MASON, MAUCHLINE.
+
+[The original letter is now in a safe sanctuary, the hands of the
+poet's son, Major James Glencairn Burns.]
+
+_July 10th_ [1796.]
+
+For Heaven's sake, and as you value the we[l]fare of your daughter and
+my wife, do, my dearest Sir, write to Fife, to Mrs. Armour to come if
+possible. My wife thinks she can yet reckon upon a fortnight. The
+medical people order me, _as I value my existence_, to fly to
+sea-bathing and country-quarters, so it is ten thousand chances to one
+that I shall not be within a dozen miles of her when her hour comes.
+What a situation for her, poor girl, without a single friend by her on
+such a serious moment.
+
+I have now been a week at salt-water, and though I think I have got
+some good by it, yet I have some secret fears that this business will
+be dangerous if not fatal.
+
+Your most affectionate son,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCXL.
+
+
+TO MRS. BURNS.
+
+[Sea-bathing, I have heard skilful men say, was injudicious: but it
+was felt that Burns was on his way to the grave, and as he desired to
+try the influence of sea-water, as well as sea-air, his wishes were
+not opposed.]
+
+_Brow, Thursday._
+
+MY DEAREST LOVE,
+
+I delayed writing until I could tell you what effect sea-bathing was
+likely to produce. It would be injustice to deny that it has eased my
+pains, and I think has strengthened me; but my appetite is still
+extremely bad. No flesh nor fish can I swallow: porridge and milk are
+the only things I can taste. I am very happy to hear, by Miss Jess
+Lewars, that you are all well. My very best and kindest compliments to
+her, and to all the children. I will see you on Sunday.
+
+Your affectionate husband,
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCXLI.
+
+
+TO MRS. DUNLOP.
+
+["The poet had the pleasure of receiving a satisfactory explanation of
+this lady's silence," says Currie, "and an assurance of the
+continuance of her friendship to his widow and children."]
+
+_Brow, Saturday, 12th July, 1796._
+
+MADAM,
+
+I have written you so often, without receiving any answer, that I
+would not trouble you again, but for the circumstances in which I am.
+An illness which has long hung about me, in all probability will
+speedily send me beyond that _bourn whence no traveller returns._ Your
+friendship, with which for many years you honoured me, was a
+friendship dearest to my soul. Your conversation, and especially your
+correspondence, were at once highly entertaining and instructive. With
+what pleasure did I use to break up the seal! The remembrance yet adds
+one pulse more to my poor palpitating heart.
+
+Farewell!!!
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCXLII.
+
+
+TO MR. THOMSON.
+
+[Thomson instantly complied with the dying poet's request, and
+transmitted the exact sum which he requested, viz. five pounds, by
+return of post: he was afraid of offending the pride of Burns,
+otherwise he would, he says, have sent a larger sum. He has not,
+however, told us how much he sent to the all but desolate widow and
+children, when death had released him from all dread of the poet's
+indignation.]
+
+_Brow, on the Solway-firth, 12th July, 1796._
+
+After all my boasted independence, curst necessity compels me to
+implore you for five pounds. A cruel wretch of a haberdasher, to whom
+I owe an account, taking it into his head that I am dying, has
+commenced a process, and will infallibly put me into jail. Do, for
+God's sake, send me that sum, and that by return of post. Forgive me
+this earnestness, but the horrors of a jail have made me half
+distracted. I do not ask all this gratuitously; for, upon returning
+health, I hereby promise and engage to furnish you with five pounds'
+worth of the neatest song-genius you have seen. I tried my hand on
+"Rothemurche" this morning. The measure is so difficult that it is
+impossible to infuse much genius into the lines; they are on the other
+side. Forgive, forgive me!
+
+    Fairest maid on Devon's banks.[292]
+
+R. B.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 292: Song CCLXVIII.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCXLIII.
+
+
+TO MR. JAMES BURNESS,
+
+WRITER, MONTROSE.
+
+[The good, the warm-hearted James Burness sent his cousin ten pounds
+on the 29th of July--he sent five pounds afterwards to the family, and
+offered to take one of the boys, and educate him in his own profession
+of a writer. All this was unknown to the world till lately.]
+
+_Brow, 12th July._
+
+MY DEAR COUSIN,
+
+When you offered me money assistance, little did I think I should want
+it so soon. A rascal of a haberdasher, to whom I owe a considerable
+bill, taking it into his head that I am dying, has commenced process
+against me, and will infallibly put my emaciated body into jail. Will
+you be so good as to accommodate me, and that by return of post, with
+ten pounds? O James! did you know the pride of my heart, you would
+feel doubly for me! Alas! I am not used to beg! The worst of it is, my
+health was coming about finely; you know, and my physician assured me,
+that melancholy and low spirits are half my disease; guess then my
+horrors since this business began. If I had it settled, I would be, I
+think, quite well in a manner. How shall I use the language to you, O
+do not disappoint me! but strong necessity's curst command.
+
+I have been thinking over and over my brother's affairs, and I fear I
+must cut him up; but on this I will correspond at another time,
+particularly as I shall [require] your advice.
+
+Forgive me for once more mentioning by return of post;--save me from
+the horrors of a jail!
+
+My compliments to my friend James, and to all the rest. I do not know
+what I have written. The subject is so horrible I dare not look it
+over again.
+
+Farewell.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+CCCXLIV.
+
+
+TO JAMES GRACIE, ESQ.
+
+[James Gracie was, for some time, a banker in Dumfries: his eldest son,
+a fine, high-spirited youth, fell by a rifle-ball in America, when
+leading the troops to the attack on Washington.]
+
+_Brow, Wednesday Morning, 16th July, 1796._
+
+MY DEAR SIR,
+
+It would [be] doing high injustice to this place not to acknowledge
+that my rheumatisms have derived great benefits from it already; but
+alas! my loss of appetite still continues. I shall not need your kind
+offer _this week_, and I return to town the beginning of next week, it
+not being a tide-week. I am detaining a man in a burning hurry.
+
+So God bless you.
+
+R. B.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+REMARKS
+
+ON
+
+SCOTTISH SONGS AND BALLADS.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[The following Strictures on Scottish Song exist in the handwriting of
+Burns, in the interleaved copy of Johnson's Musical Museum, which the
+poet presented to Captain Riddel, of Friars Carse; on the death of
+Mrs. Riddel, these precious volumes passed into the hands of her
+niece, Eliza Bayley, of Manchester, who kindly permitted Mr. Cromek to
+transcribe and publish them in the Reliques.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE HIGHLAND QUEEN.
+
+This Highland Queen, music and poetry, was composed by Mr. M'Vicar,
+purser of the Solebay man-of-war.--This I had from Dr. Blacklock.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+BESS THE GAWKIE.
+
+This song shows that the Scottish muses did not all leave us when we
+lost Ramsay and Oswald, as I have good reason to believe that the
+verses and music are both posterior to the days of these two
+gentlemen. It is a beautiful song, and in the genuine Scots taste. We
+have few pastoral compositions, I mean the pastoral of nature, that
+are equal to this.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+OH, OPEN THE DOOR, LORD GREGORY.
+
+It is somewhat singular, that in Lanark, Renfrew, Ayr, Wigton,
+Kirkudbright, and Dumfries-shires, there is scarcely an old song or
+tune which, from the title, &c., can be guessed to belong to, or be
+the production of these countries. This, I conjecture, is one of these
+very few; as the ballad, which is a long one, is called, both by
+tradition and in printed collections, "The Lass of Lochroyan," which I
+take to be Lochroyan, in Galloway.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE BANKS OF THE TWEED.
+
+This song is one of the many attempts that English composers have made
+to imitate the Scottish manner, and which I shall, in these
+strictures, beg leave to distinguish by the appellation of
+Anglo-Scottish productions. The music is pretty good, but the verses
+are just above contempt.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE BEDS OF SWEET ROSES.
+
+This song, as far as I know, for the first time appears here in
+print.--When I was a boy, it was a very popular song in Ayrshire. I
+remember to have heard those fanatics, the Buchanites, sing some of
+their nonsensical rhymes, which they dignify with the name of hymns,
+to this air.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+ROSLIN CASTLE.
+
+These beautiful verses were the production of a Richard Hewit, a young
+man that Dr. Blacklock, to whom I am indebted for the anecdote, kept
+for some years as amanuensis. I do not know who is the author of
+the second song to the tune. Tytler, in his amusing history of Scots
+music, gives the air to Oswald; but in Oswald's own collection of
+Scots tunes, where he affixes an asterisk to those he himself
+composed, he does not make the least claim to the tune.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+SAW YE JOHNNIE CUMMIN? QUO' SHE.
+
+This song, for genuine humour in the verses, and lively originality in
+the air, is unparalleled. I take it to be very old.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+CLOUT THE CALDRON.
+
+A tradition is mentioned in the "Bee," that the second Bishop
+Chisholm, of Dunblane, used to say, that if he were going to be
+hanged, nothing would soothe his mind so much by the way as to hear
+"Clout the Caldron" played.
+
+I have met with another tradition, that the old song to this tune,
+
+    "Hae ye onie pots or pans,
+    Or onie broken chanlers,"
+
+was composed on one of the Kenmure family, in the cavalier times; and
+alluded to an amour he had, while under hiding, in the disguise of an
+itinerant tinker. The air is also known by the name of
+
+    "The blacksmith and his apron,"
+
+which from the rhythm, seems to have been a line of some old song to
+the tune.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+SAW YE MY PEGGY.
+
+This charming song is much older, and indeed superior to Ramsay's
+verses, "The Toast," as he calls them. There is another set of the
+words, much older still, and which I take to be the original one, but
+though it has a very great deal of merit, it is not quite ladies'
+reading.
+
+The original words, for they can scarcely be called verses, seem to be
+as follows; a song familiar from the cradle to every Scottish ear.
+
+    "Saw ye my Maggie,
+    Saw ye my Maggie,
+    Saw ye my Maggie
+        Linkin o'er the lea?
+
+    High kilted was she,
+    High kilted was she,
+    High kilted was she,
+        Her coat aboon her knee.
+
+    What mark has your Maggie,
+    What mark has your Maggie,
+    What mark has your Maggie,
+            That ane may ken her be?"
+
+Though it by no means follows that the silliest verses to an air must,
+for that reason, be the original song; yet I take this ballad, of
+which I have quoted part, to be old verses. The two songs in Ramsay,
+one of them evidently his own, are never to be met with in the
+fire-side circle of our peasantry; while that which I take to be the
+old song, is in every shepherd's mouth. Ramsay, I suppose, had thought
+the old verses unworthy of a place in his collection.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE FLOWERS OF EDINBURGH.
+
+This song is one of the many effusions of Scots Jacobitism.--The title
+"Flowers of Edinburgh," has no manner of connexion with the present
+verses, so I suspect there has been an older set of words, of which
+the title is all that remains.
+
+By the bye, it is singular enough that the Scottish muses were all
+Jacobites.--I have paid more attention to every description of Scots
+songs than perhaps anybody living has done, and I do not recollect one
+single stanza, or even the title of the most trifling Scots air, which
+has the least panegyrical reference to the families of Nassau or
+Brunswick; while there are hundreds satirizing them.--This may be
+thought no panegyric on the Scots Poets, but I mean it as such. For
+myself, I would always take it as a compliment to have it said, that
+my heart ran before my head,--and surely the gallant though
+unfortunate house of Stewart, the kings of our fathers for so many
+heroic ages, is a theme  *  *  *  *  *  *
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+JAMIE GAY.
+
+Jamie Gay is another and a tolerable Anglo-Scottish piece.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+MY DEAR JOCKIE.
+
+Another Anglo-Scottish production.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+FYE, GAE RUB HER O'ER WI' STRAE.
+
+It is self-evident that the first four lines of this song are part of
+a song more ancient than Ramsay's beautiful verses which are annexed
+to them. As music is the language of nature; and poetry, particularly
+songs, are always less or more localized (if I may be allowed the
+verb) by some of the modifications of time and place, this is the
+reason why so many of our Scots airs have outlived their original, and
+perhaps many subsequent sets of verses; except a single name or
+phrase, or sometimes one or two lines, simply to distinguish the tunes
+by.
+
+To this day among people who know nothing of Ramsay's verses, the
+following is the song, and all the song that ever I heard:
+
+    "Gin ye meet a bonnie lassie,
+      Gie her a kiss and let her gae;
+    But gin ye meet a dirty hizzie,
+      Fye, gae rub her o'er wi' strae.
+
+    Fye, gae rub her, rub her, rub her,
+      Fye, gae rub her o'er wi' strae:
+    An' gin ye meet dirty hizzie,
+      Fye, gae rub her o'er wi' strae."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE LASS O' LIVISTON.
+
+The old song, in three eight-line stanzas, is well known, and has
+merit as to wit and humour; but it is rather unfit for insertion.--It
+begins,
+
+    "The Bonnie lass o' Liviston,
+      Her name ye ken, her name ye ken,
+    And she has written in her contract
+      To lie her lane, to lie her lane."
+                  &c. &c.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE LAST TIME I CAME O'ER THE MOOR.
+
+Ramsay found the first line of this song, which had been preserved as
+the title of the charming air, and then composed the rest of the
+verses to suit that line. This has always a finer effect than
+composing English words, or words with an idea foreign to the spirit
+of the old title. Where old titles of songs convey any idea at all, it
+will generally be found to be quite in the spirit of the air.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+JOCKIE'S GRAY BREEKS.
+
+Though this has certainly every evidence of being a Scottish air, yet
+there is a well-known tune and song in the north of Ireland, called
+"The Weaver and his Shuttle O," which, though sung much quicker, is
+every note the very tune.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE HAPPY MARRIAGE.
+
+Another, but very pretty Anglo-Scottish piece.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE LASS OF PATIE'S MILL.
+
+In Sinclair's Statistical Account of Scotland, this song is localized
+(a verb I must use for want of another to express my idea) somewhere
+in the north of Scotland, and likewise is claimed by Ayrshire.--The
+following anecdote I had from the present Sir William Cunningham, of
+Robertland, who had it from the last John, Earl of Loudon. The then
+Earl of Loudon, and father to Earl John before mentioned, had Ramsay
+at Loudon, and one day walking together by the banks of Irvine water,
+near New-Mills, at a place called Patie's Mill, they were struck with
+the appearance of a beautiful country girl. His lordship observed that
+she would be a fine theme for a song.--Allan lagged behind in
+returning to Loudon Castle, and at dinner produced this identical
+song.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE TURNIMSPIKE.
+
+There is a stanza of this excellent song for local humour, omitted in
+this set.--Where I have placed the asterisms.
+
+    "They tak the horse then by te head,
+       And tere tey mak her stan', man;
+    Me tell tem, me hae seen te day,
+       Tey no had sic comman', man."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+HIGHLAND LADDIE.
+
+As this was a favourite theme with our later Scottish muses, there are
+several airs and songs of that name. That which I take to be the
+oldest, is to be found in the "Musical Museum," beginning, "I hae been
+at Crookieden." One reason for my thinking so is, that Oswald has it
+in his collection, by the name of "The Auld Highland Laddie." It is
+also known by the name of "Jinglan Johnie," which is a well-known song
+of four or five stanzas, and seems to be an earlier song than Jacobite
+times. As a proof of this, it is little known to the peasantry by the
+name of "Highland Laddie;" while everybody knows "Jinglan Johnie." The
+song begins
+
+    "Jinglan John, the meickle man,
+      He met wi' a lass was blythe and bonie."
+
+Another "Highland Laddie" is also in the "Museum," vol. v., which I
+take to be Ramsay's original, as he has borrowed the chorus--"O my
+bonie Highland lad," &c. It consists of three stanzas, besides the
+chorus; and has humour in its composition--it is an excellent, but
+somewhat licentious song.--It begins
+
+    "As I cam o'er Cairney mount,
+    And down among the blooming heather."
+
+This air, and the common "Highland Laddie," seem only to be different
+sets.
+
+Another "Highland Laddie," also in the "Museum," vol. v., is the tune
+of several Jacobite fragments. One of these old songs to it, only
+exists, as far as I know, in these four lines--
+
+    "Where hae ye been a' day,
+      Bonie laddie, Highland laddie?
+    Down the back o' Bell's brae,
+      Courtin Maggie, courtin Maggie."
+
+Another of this name is Dr. Arne's beautiful air, called the new
+"Highland Laddie."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE GENTLE SWAIN.
+
+To sing such a beautiful air to such execrable verses, is downright
+prostitution of common sense! The Scots verses indeed are tolerable.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+HE STOLE MY TENDER HEART AWAY.
+
+This is an Anglo-Scottish production, but by no means a bad one.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+FAIREST OF THE FAIR.
+
+It is too barefaced to take Dr. Percy's charming song, and by means of
+transposing a few English words into Scots, to offer to pass it for a
+Scots song.--I was not acquainted with the editor until the first
+volume was nearly finished, else, had I known in time, I would have
+prevented such an impudent absurdity.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE BLAITHRIE O'T.
+
+The following is a set of this song, which was the earliest song I
+remember to have got by heart. When a child, an old woman sung it to
+me, and I picked it up, every word, at first hearing.
+
+    "O Willy, weel I mind, I lent you my hand
+    To sing you a song which you did me command;
+    But my memory's so bad I had almost forgot
+    That you called it the gear and the blaithrie o't.--
+
+    I'll not sing about confusion, delusion or pride,
+    I'll sing about a laddie was for a virtuous bride;
+    For virtue is an ornament that time will never rot,
+    And preferable to gear and the blaithrie o't.--
+
+    Tho' my lassie hae nae scarlets or silks to put on,
+    We envy not the greatest that sits upon the throne;
+    I wad rather hae my lassie, tho' she cam in her smock,
+    Than a princess wi' the gear and the blaithrie o't.--
+
+    Tho' we hae nae horses or menzies at command,
+    We will toil on our foot, and we'll work wi' our hand;
+    And when wearied without rest, we'll find it sweet in any spot,
+    And we'll value not the gear and the blaithrie o't.--
+
+    If we hae ony babies, we'll count them as lent;
+    Hae we less, hae we mair, we will ay be content;
+    For they say they hae mair pleasure that wins bu groat,
+    Than the miser wi' his gear and the blaithrie o't--
+
+    I'll not meddle wi' th' affairs of the kirk or the queen;
+    They're nae matters for a sang, let them sink, let them swim;
+    On your kirk I'll ne'er encroach, but I'll hold it stil remote,
+    Sae tak this for the gear and the blaithrie o't."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+MAY EVE, OR KATE OF ABERDEEN.
+
+"Kate of Aberdeen" is, I believe, the work of poor Cunningham the
+player; of whom the following anecdote, though told before, deserves a
+recital. A fat dignitary of the church coming past Cunningham one
+_Sunday_, as the poor poet was busy plying a fishing-rod in some
+stream near Durham, his native country, his reverence reprimanded
+Cunningham very severely for such an occupation on such a day. The
+poor poet, with that inoffensive gentleness of manners which was his
+peculiar characteristic, replied, that he hoped God and his reverence
+would forgive his seeming profanity of that sacred day, "_as he had no
+dinner to eat, but what lay at the bottom of that pool_!" This, Mr.
+Woods, the player, who knew Cunningham well, and esteemed him much,
+assured me was true.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+TWEED SIDE.
+
+In Ramsay's Tea-table Miscellany, he tells us that about thirty of the
+songs in that publication were the works of some young gentlemen of
+his acquaintance; which songs are marked with the letters D. C.
+&c.--Old Mr. Tytler of Woodhouselee, the worthy and able defender of
+the beauteous Queen of Scots, told me that the songs marked C, in the
+_Tea-table_, were the composition of a Mr. Crawfurd, of the house of
+Achnames, who was afterwards unfortunately drowned coming from
+France.--As Tytler was most intimately acquainted with Allan Ramsay, I
+think the anecdote may be depended on. Of consequence, the beautiful
+song of Tweed Side is Mr. Crawfurd's, and indeed does great honour to
+his poetical talents. He was a Robert Crawfurd; the Mary he celebrates
+was a Mary Stewart, of the Castle-Milk family, afterwards married to a
+Mr. John Ritchie.
+
+I have seen a song, calling itself the original Tweed Side, and said
+to have been composed by a Lord Yester. It consisted of two stanzas,
+of which I still recollect the first--
+
+    "When Maggy and I was acquaint,
+      I carried my noddle fu' hie;
+    Nae lintwhite on a' the green plain,
+      Nor gowdspink sae happy as me:
+    But I saw her sae fair and I lo'ed:
+      I woo'd, but I came nae great speed;
+    So now I maun wander abroad,
+      And lay my banes far frae the Tweed."--
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE POSY.
+
+It appears evident to me that Oswald composed his _Roslin Castle_ on
+the modulation of this air.--In the second part of Oswald's, in the
+three first bars, he has either hit on a wonderful similarity to, or
+else he has entirely borrowed the three first bars of the old air; and
+the close of both tunes is almost exactly the same. The old verses to
+which it was sung, when I took down the notes from a country girl's
+voice, had no great merit.--The following is a specimen:
+
+    "There was a pretty May, and a milkin she went;
+      Wi' her red rosy cheeks, and her coal black hair;
+    And she has met a young man a comin o'er the bent,
+      With a double and adieu to thee, fair May.
+
+    O where are ye goin, my ain pretty May,
+      Wi' thy red rosy cheeks, and thy coal black hair?
+    Unto the yowes a milkin, kind sir, she says,
+      With a double and adieu to thee, fair May.
+
+    What if I gang alang with thee, my ain pretty May,
+      Wi' thy red rosy cheeks, any thy coal-black hair;
+    Wad I be aught the warse o' that, kind sir, she says,
+      With a double and adieu to thee, fair May."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+MARY'S DREAM.
+
+The Mary here alluded to is generally supposed to be Miss Mary
+Macghie, daughter to the Laird of Airds, in Galloway. The poet was a
+Mr. John Lowe, who likewise wrote another beautiful song, called
+Pompey's Ghost.--I have seen a poetic epistle from him in North
+America, where he now is, or lately was, to a lady in Scotland.--By
+the strain of the verses, it appeared that they allude to some love
+affair.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE MAID THAT TENDS THE GOATS.
+
+BY MR. DUDGEON.
+
+This Dudgeon is a respectable farmer's son in Berwickshire.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+I WISH MY LOVE WERE IN A MIRE.
+
+I never heard more of the words of this old song than the title.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+ALLAN WATER.
+
+This Allan Water, which the composer of the music has honoured with
+the name of the air, I have been told is Allan Water, in Strathallan.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THERE'S NAE LUCK ABOUT THE HOUSE.
+
+This is one of the most beautiful songs in the Scots, or any other
+language.--The two lines,
+
+    "And will I see his face again!
+      And will I hear him speak!"
+
+as well as the two preceding ones, are unequalled almost by anything I
+ever heard or read: and the lines,
+
+    "The present moment is our ain,
+    The neist we never saw,"--
+
+are worthy of the first poet. It is long posterior to Ramsay's days.
+About the year 1771, or 72, it came first on the streets as a ballad;
+and I suppose the composition of the song was not much anterior to
+that period.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+TARRY WOO.
+
+This is a very pretty song; but I fancy that the first half stanza, as
+well as the tune itself, are much older than the rest of the words.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+GRAMACHREE.
+
+The song of Gramachree was composed by a Mr. Poe, a counsellor at law
+in Dublin. This anecdote I had from a gentleman who knew the lady, the
+"Molly," who is the subject of the song, and to whom Mr. Poe sent the
+first manuscript of his most beautiful verses. I do not remember any
+single line that has more true pathos than
+
+    "How can she break that honest heart that wears her in its core!"
+
+But as the song is Irish, it had nothing to do in this collection.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE COLLIER'S BONNIE LASSIE.
+
+The first half stanza is much older than the days of Ramsay.--The old
+words began thus:
+
+    "The collier has a dochter, and, O, she's wonder bonnie!
+      A laird he was that sought her, rich baith in lands and money.
+    She wad na hae a laird, nor wad she be a lady,
+      But she wad hae a collier, the colour o' her daddie."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+MY AIN KIND DEARIE-O.
+
+The old words of this song are omitted here, though much more
+beautiful than these inserted; which were mostly composed by poor
+Fergusson, in one of his merry humours. The old words began thus:
+
+    "I'll rowe thee o'er the lea-rig,
+      My ain kind dearie, O,
+    I'll rowe thee o'er the lea-rig,
+      My ain kind dearie, O,
+    Altho' the night were ne'er sae wat,
+      And I were ne'er sae weary, O;
+    I'll rowe thee o'er the lea-rig,
+      My ain kind dearie, O."--
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+MARY SCOTT, THE FLOWER OF YARROW.
+
+Mr. Robertson, in his statistical account of the parish of Selkirk,
+says, that Mary Scott, the Flower of Yarrow, was descended from the
+Dryhope, and married into the Harden family. Her daughter was married
+to a predecessor of the present Sir Francis Elliot, of Stobbs, and of
+the late Lord Heathfield.
+
+There is a circumstance in their contract of marriage that merits
+attention, and it strongly marks the predatory spirit of the times.
+The father-in-law agrees to keep his daughter for some time after the
+marriage; for which the son-in-law binds himself to give him the
+profits of the first Michaelmas moon!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+DOWN THE BURN, DAVIE.
+
+I have been informed, that the tune of "Down the burn, Davie," was the
+composition of David Maigh, keeper of the blood slough hounds,
+belonging to the Laird of Riddel, in Tweeddale.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+BLINK O'ER THE BURN, SWEET BETTIE.
+
+The old words, all that I remember, are,--
+
+    "Blink over the burn, sweet Betty,
+      It is a cauld winter night:
+    It rains, it hails, it thunders,
+      The moon, she gies nae light:
+    It's a' for the sake o' sweet Betty,
+      That ever I tint my way;
+    Sweet, let me lie beyond thee
+      Until it be break o' day.--
+
+    O, Betty will bake my bread,
+      And Betty will brew my ale,
+    And Betty will be my love,
+      When I come over the dale:
+    Blink over the burn, sweet Betty,
+      Blink over the burn to me,
+    And while I hae life, dear lassie,
+      My ain sweet Betty thou's be."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE BLITHSOME BRIDAL.
+
+I find the "Blithsome Bridal" in James Watson's collection of Scots
+poems, printed at Edinburgh, in 1706. This collection, the publisher
+says, is the first of its nature which has been published in our own
+native Scots dialect--it is now extremely scarce.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+JOHN HAY'S BONNIE LASSIE.
+
+John Hay's "Bonnie Lassie" was daughter of John Hay, Earl or Marquis
+of Tweeddale, and late Countess Dowager of Roxburgh.--She died at
+Broomlands, near Kelso, some time between the years 1720 and 1740.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE BONIE BRUCKET LASSIE.
+
+The two first lines of this song are all of it that is old. The rest
+of the song, as well as those songs in the Museum marked T., are the
+works of an obscure, tippling, but extraordinary body of the name of
+Tytler, commonly known by the name of Balloon Tytler, from his having
+projected a balloon; a mortal, who, though he drudges about Edinburgh
+as a common printer, with leaky shoes, a sky-lighted hat, and
+knee-buckles as unlike as George-by-the-grace-of-God, and
+Solomon-the-son-of-David; yet that same unknown drunken mortal is
+author and compiler of three-fourths of Elliot's pompous Encyclopedia
+Britannica, which he composed at half a guinea a week!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+SAE MERRY AS WE TWA HA'E BEEN.
+
+This song is beautiful.--The chorus in particular is truly pathetic. I
+never could learn anything of its author.
+
+CHORUS.
+
+    "Sae merry as we twa ha'e been,
+      Sae merry as we twa ha'e been;
+    My heart is like for to break,
+      When I think on the days we ha'e seen."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE BANKS OF FORTH.
+
+This air is Oswald's.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE BUSH ABOON TRAQUAIR.
+
+This is another beautiful song of Mr. Crawfurd's composition. In the
+neighbourhood of Traquair, tradition still shows the old "Bush;"
+which, when I saw it, in the year 1787, was composed of eight or nine
+ragged birches. The Earl of Traquair has planted a clump of trees near
+by, which he calls "The New Bush."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+CROMLET'S LILT.
+
+The following interesting account of this plaintive dirge was
+communicated to Mr. Riddel by Alexander Fraser Tytler, Esq., of
+Woodhouselee.
+
+"In the latter end of the sixteenth century, the Chisolms were
+proprietors of the estate of Cromlecks (now possessed by the
+Drummonds). The eldest son of that family was very much attached to a
+daughter of Sterling of Ardoch, commonly known by the name of Fair
+Helen of Ardoch.
+
+"At that time the opportunities of meeting betwixt the sexes were more
+rare, consequently more sought after than now; and the Scottish
+ladies, far from priding themselves on extensive literature, were
+thought sufficiently book-learned if they could make out the
+Scriptures in their mother-tongue. Writing was entirely out of the
+line of female education. At that period the most of our young men of
+family sought a fortune, or found a grave, in France. Cromlus, when he
+went abroad to the war, was obliged to leave the management of his
+correspondence with his mistress to a lay-brother of the monastery of
+Dumblain, in the immediate neighbourhood of Cromleck, and near Ardoch.
+This man, unfortunately, was deeply sensible of Helen's charms. He
+artfully prepossessed her with stories to the disadvantage of Cromlus;
+and, by misinterpreting or keeping up the letters and messages
+intrusted to his care, he entirely irritated both. All connexion was
+broken off betwixt them; Helen was inconsolable, and Cromlus has left
+behind him, in the ballad called 'Cromlet's Lilt,' a proof of the
+elegance of his genius, as well as the steadiness of his love.
+
+"When the artful monk thought time had sufficiently softened Helen's
+sorrow, he proposed himself as a lover: Helen was obdurate: but at
+last, overcome by the persuasions of her brother, with whom she lived,
+and who, having a family of thirty-one children, was probably very
+well pleased to get her off his hands--she submitted, rather than
+consented to the ceremony; but there her compliance ended; and, when
+forcibly put into bed, she started quite frantic from it, screaming
+out, that after three gentle taps on the wainscot, at the bed-head,
+she heard Cromlus's voice, crying, 'Helen, Helen, mind me!' Cromlus
+soon after coming home, the treachery of the confidant was
+discovered,--her marriage disannulled,--and Helen became Lady
+Cromlecks."
+
+N. B. Marg. Murray, mother to these thirty-one children, was daughter
+to Murray of Strewn, one of the seventeen sons of Tullybardine, and
+whose youngest son, commonly called the Tutor of Ardoch, died in the
+year 1715, aged 111 years.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+MY DEARIE, IF THOU DIE.
+
+Another beautiful song of Crawfurd's.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+SHE ROSE AND LOOT ME IN.
+
+The old set of this song, which is still to be found in printed
+collections, is much prettier than this; but somebody, I believe it
+was Ramsay, took it into his head to clear it of some seeming
+indelicacies, and made it at once more chaste and more dull.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+GO TO THE EWE-BUGHTS, MARION.
+
+I am not sure if this old and charming air be of the South, as is
+commonly said, or of the North of Scotland. There is a song,
+apparently as ancient us "Ewe-bughts, Marion," which sings to the same
+tune, and is evidently of the North.--It begins thus:
+
+    "The Lord o' Gordon had three dochters,
+      Mary, Marget, and Jean,
+    They wad na stay at bonie Castle Gordon,
+      But awa to Aberdeen."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+LEWIS GORDON.
+
+This air is a proof how one of our Scots tunes comes to be composed
+out of another. I have one of the earliest copies of the song, and it
+has prefixed,
+
+    "Tune of Tarry Woo."--
+
+Of which tune a different set has insensibly varied into a different
+air.--To a Scots critic, the pathos of the line,
+
+    "'Tho' his back be at the wa',"
+
+--must be very striking. It needs not a Jacobite prejudice to be
+affected with this song.
+
+The supposed author of "Lewis Gordon" was a Mr. Geddes, priest, at
+Shenval, in the Ainzie.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+O HONE A RIE.
+
+Dr. Blacklock informed me that this song was composed on the infamous
+massacre of Glencoe.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+I'LL NEVER LEAVE THEE.
+
+This is another of Crawfurd's songs, but I do not think in his
+happiest manner.--What an absurdity, to join such names as _Adonis_
+and _Mary_ together!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+CORN RIGS ARE BONIE.
+
+All the old words that ever I could meet to this air were the
+following, which seem to have been an old chorus:
+
+    "O corn rigs and rye rigs,
+      O corn rigs are bonie;
+    And where'er you meet a bonie lass,
+      Preen up her cockernony."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE MUCKING OF GEORDIE'S BYRE.
+
+The chorus of this song is old; the rest is the work of Balloon
+Tytler.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+BIDE YE YET.
+
+There is a beautiful song to this tune, beginning,
+
+    "Alas, my son, you little know,"--
+
+which is the composition of Miss Jenny Graham, of Dumfries.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+WAUKIN O' THE FAULD.
+
+There are two stanzas still sung to this tune, which I take to be the
+original song whence Ramsay composed his beautiful song of that name
+in the Gentle Shepherd.--It begins
+
+    "O will ye speak at our town,
+    As ye come frae the fauld."
+
+I regret that, as in many of our old songs, the delicacy of this old
+fragment is not equal to its wit and humour.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+TRANENT-MUIR.
+
+"Tranent-Muir," was composed by a Mr. Skirving, a very worthy
+respectable farmer near Haddington. I have heard the anecdote often,
+that Lieut. Smith, whom he mentions in the ninth stanza, came to
+Haddington after the publication of the song, and sent a challenge to
+Skirving to meet him at Haddington, and answer for the unworthy manner
+in which he had noticed him in his song. "Gang away back," said the
+honest farmer, "and tell Mr. Smith that I hae nae leisure to come to
+Haddington; but tell him to come here, and I'll tak a look o' him, and
+if I think I'm fit to fecht him, I'll fecht him; and if no, I'll do as
+he did--_I'll rin awa."_--
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+TO THE WEAVERS GIN YE GO.
+
+The chorus of this song is old, the rest of it is mine. Here, once for
+all, let me apologize for many silly compositions of mine in this
+work. Many beautiful airs wanted words; in the hurry of other
+avocations, if I could string a parcel of rhymes together anything
+near tolerable, I was fain to let them pass. He must be an excellent
+poet indeed whose every performance is excellent.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+POLWARTH ON THE GREEN.
+
+The author of "Polwarth on the Green" is Capt. John Drummond M'Gregor,
+of the family of Bochaldie.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+STREPHON AND LYDIA.
+
+The following account of this song I had from Dr. Blacklock.
+
+The Strephon and Lydia mentioned in the song were perhaps the
+loveliest couple of their time. The gentleman was commonly known by
+the name of Beau Gibson. The lady was the "Gentle Jean," celebrated
+somewhere in Hamilton of Bangour's poems.--Having frequently met at
+public places, they had formed a reciprocal attachment, which their
+friends thought dangerous, as their resources were by no means
+adequate to their tastes and habits of life. To elude the bad
+consequences of such a connexion, Strephon was sent abroad with a
+commission, and perished in Admiral Vernon's expedition to Carthagena.
+
+The author of this song was William Wallace, Esq. of Cairnhill, in
+Ayrshire.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+I'M O'ER YOUNG TO MARRY YET.
+
+The chorus of this song is old. The rest of it, such as it is, is
+mine.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+M'PHERSON'S FAREWELL.
+
+M'Pherson, a daring robber, in the beginning of this century, was
+condemned to be hanged at the assizes of Inverness. He is said, when
+under sentence of death, to have composed this tune, which he called
+his own lament or farewell.
+
+Gow has published a variation of this fine tune as his own
+composition, which he calls "The Princess Augusta."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+MY JO, JANET.
+
+Johnson, the publisher, with a foolish delicacy, refused to insert the
+last stanza of this humorous ballad.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE SHEPHERD'S COMPLAINT.
+
+The words by a Mr. R. Scott, from the town or neighbourhood of Biggar.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE BIRKS OF ABERFELDY.
+
+I composed these stanzas standing under the falls of Aberfeldy, at or
+near Moness.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE HIGHLAND LASSIE O.
+
+This was a composition of mine in very early life, before I was known
+at all in the world. My Highland lassie was a warm-hearted, charming
+young creature as ever blessed a man with generous love. After a
+pretty long tract of the most ardent reciprocal attachment, we met by
+appointment on the second Sunday of May, in a sequestered spot by the
+banks of Ayr, where we spent the day in taking a farewell before she
+should embark for the West Highlands, to arrange matters among her
+friends for our projected change of life. At the close of autumn
+following she crossed the sea to meet me at Greenock, where she had
+scarce landed when she was seized with a malignant fever, which
+hurried my dear girl to the grave in a few days, before I could even
+hear of her last illness.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+FIFE, AND A' THE LANDS ABOUT IT.
+
+This song is Dr. Blacklock's. He, as well as I, often gave Johnson
+verses, trifling enough perhaps, but they served as a vehicle to the
+music.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+WERE NA MY HEART LIGHT I WAD DIE.
+
+Lord Hailes, in the notes to his collection of ancient Scots poems,
+says that this song was the composition of a Lady Grissel Baillie,
+daughter of the first Earl of Marchmont, and wife of George Baillie,
+of Jerviswood.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE YOUNG MAN'S DREAM.
+
+This song is the composition of Balloon Tytler.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+STRATHALLAN'S LAMENT.
+
+This air in the composition of one of the worthiest and best-hearted
+men living--Allan Masterton, schoolmaster in Edinburgh. As he and I
+were both sprouts of Jacobitism we agreed to dedicate the words and
+air to that cause.
+
+To tell the matter-of-fact, except when my passions were heated by
+some accidental cause, my Jacobitism was merely by way of _vive la
+bagatelle._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+UP IN THE MORNING EARLY.
+
+The chorus of this is old; the two stanzas are mine.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE TEARS OF SCOTLAND.
+
+Dr. Blacklock told me that Smollet, who was at the bottom a great
+Jacobite, composed these beautiful and pathetic verses on the infamous
+depredations of the Duke of Cumberland after the battle of Culloden.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+WHAT WILL I DO GIN MY HOGGIE DIE.
+
+Dr. Walker, who was minister at Moffat in 1772, and is now (1791)
+Professor of Natural History in the University of Edinburgh, told the
+following anecdote concerning this air.--He said, that some gentlemen,
+riding a few years ago through Liddesdale, stopped at a hamlet
+consisting of a few houses, called Moss Platt, when they were struck
+with this tune, which an old woman, spinning on a rock at her door,
+was singing. All she could tell concerning it was, that she was taught
+it when a child, and it was called "What will I do gin my Hoggie die?"
+No person, except a few females at Moss Platt, knew this fine old
+tune, which in all probability would have been lost had not one of the
+gentlemen, who happened to have a flute with him, taken it down.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+I DREAM'D I LAY WHERE FLOWERS WERE SPRINGING.
+
+These two stanzas I composed when I was seventeen, and are among the
+oldest of my printed pieces.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+AH! THE POOR SHEPHERD'S MOURNFUL FATE.
+
+Tune--"Gallashiels."
+
+The old title, "Sour Plums o' Gallashiels," probably was the beginning
+of a song to this air, which is now lost.
+
+The tune of Gallashiels was composed about the beginning of the
+present century by the Laird of Gallashiel's piper.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE BANKS OF THE DEVON.
+
+These verses were composed on a charming girl, a Miss Charlotte
+Hamilton, who is now married to James M'Kitrick Adair, Esq.,
+physician. She is sister to my worthy friend Gavin Hamilton, of
+Mauchline, and was born on the banks of the Ayr, but was, at the time
+I wrote these lines, residing at Herveyston, in Clackmannanshire, on
+the romantic banks of the little river Devon. I first heard the air
+from a lady in Inverness, and got the notes taken down for this work.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+MILL, MILL O.
+
+The original, or at least a song evidently prior to Ramsay's is still
+extant.--It runs thus,
+
+CHORUS.
+
+    "The mill, mill O, and the kill, kill O,
+      And the coggin o' Peggy's wheel, O,
+    The sack and the sieve, and a' she did leave,
+      And danc'd the miller's reel O.--
+
+    As I came down yon waterside,
+      And by yon shellin-hill O,
+    There I spied a bonie bonie lass,
+      And a lass that I lov'd right well O."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+WE RAN AND THEY RAN.
+
+The author of "We ran and they ran"--was a Rev. Mr. Murdoch M'Lennan,
+minister at Crathie, Dee-side.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+WALY, WALY.
+
+In the west country I have heard a different edition of the second
+stanza.--Instead of the four lines, beginning with, "When
+cockle-shells, &c.," the other way ran thus:--
+
+    "O wherefore need I busk my head,
+      Or wherefore need I kame my hair,
+    Sin my fause luve has me forsook,
+      And sys, he'll never luve me mair."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+DUNCAN GRAY.
+
+Dr. Blacklock informed me that he had often heard the tradition, that
+this air was composed by a carman in Glasgow.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+DUMBARTON DRUMS.
+
+This is the last of the West-Highland airs; and from it over the whole
+tract of country to the confines of Tweedside, there is hardly a tune
+or song that one can say has taken its origin from any place or
+transaction in that part of Scotland.--The oldest Ayrshire reel, is
+Stewarton Lasses, which was made by the father of the present Sir
+Walter Montgomery Cunningham, alias Lord Lysle; since which period
+there has indeed been local music in that country in great
+plenty.--Johnie Faa is the only old song which I could ever trace as
+belonging to the extensive county of Ayr.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+CAULD KAIL IN ABERDEEN.
+
+This song is by the Duke of Gordon.--The old verses are,
+
+    "There's cauld kail in Aberdeen,
+      And castocks in Strathbogie;
+    When ilka lad maun hae his lass,
+      Then fye, gie me my coggie.
+
+CHORUS.
+
+    My coggie, Sirs, my coggie, Sirs,
+      I cannot want my coggie;
+    I wadna gie my three-girr'd cap
+      For e'er a quene on Bogie.--
+
+    There's Johnie Smith has got a wife,
+      That scrimps him o' his coggie,
+    If she were mine, upon my life
+      I wad douk her in a bogie."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+FOR LAKE OF GOLD.
+
+The country girls in Ayrshire, instead of the line--
+
+    "She me forsook for a great duke,"
+
+say
+
+    "For Athole's duke she me forsook;"
+
+which I take to be the original reading.
+
+These were composed by the late Dr. Austin, physician at
+Edinburgh.--He had courted a lady, to whom he was shortly to have been
+married; but the Duke of Athole having seen her, became so much in
+love with her, that he made proposals of marriage, which were accepted
+of, and she jilted the doctor.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+HERE'S A HEALTH TO MY TRUE LOVE, &c.
+
+This song is Dr. Blacklock's. He told me that tradition gives the air
+to our James IV. of Scotland.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+HEY TUTTI TAITI.
+
+I Have met the tradition universally over Scotland, and particularly
+about Stirling, in the neighbourhood of the scene, that this air was
+Robert Bruce's march at the battle of Bannockburn.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+RAVING WINDS AROUND HER BLOWING.
+
+I Composed these verses on Miss Isabella M'Leod, of Raza, alluding to
+her feelings on the death of her sister, and the still more melancholy
+death of her sister's husband, the late Earl of Loudon; who shot
+himself out of sheer heart-break at some mortifications he suffered,
+owing to the deranged state of his finances.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+TAK YOUR AULD CLOAK ABOUT YE.
+
+A part of this old song, according to the English set of it, is quoted
+in Shakspeare.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+YE GODS, WAS STREPHON'S PICTURE BLEST?
+
+Tune--"Fourteenth of October."
+
+The title of this air shows that it alludes to the famous king
+Crispian, the patron of the honourable corporation of shoemakers.--St.
+Crispian's day falls on the fourteenth of October old style, as the
+old proverb tells:
+
+    "On the fourteenth of October
+    Was ne'er a sutor sober."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+SINCE ROBB'D OF ALL THAT CHARM'D MY VIEWS.
+
+The old name of this air is, "the Blossom o' the Raspberry." The song
+is Dr. Blacklock's.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+YOUNG DAMON.
+
+This air is by Oswald.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+KIRK WAD LET ME BE.
+
+Tradition in the western parts of Scotland tells that this old song,
+of which there are still three stanzas extant, once saved a
+covenanting clergyman out of a scrape. It was a little prior to the
+revolution, a period when being a Scots covenanter was being a felon,
+that one of their clergy, who was at that very time hunted by the
+merciless soldiery, fell in, by accident, with a party of the
+military. The soldiers were not exactly acquainted with the person of
+the reverend gentleman of whom they were in search; but from
+suspicious circumstances, they fancied that they had got one of that
+cloth and opprobrious persuasion among them in the person of this
+stranger. "Mass John" to extricate himself, assumed a freedom of
+manners, very unlike the gloomy strictness of his sect; and among
+other convivial exhibitions, sung (and some traditions say, composed
+on the spur of the occasion) "Kirk wad let me be," with such effect,
+that the soldiers swore he was a d----d honest fellow, and that it
+was impossible _he_ could belong to those hellish conventicles; and so
+gave him his liberty.
+
+The first stanza of this song, a little altered, is a favourite kind
+of dramatic interlude acted at country weddings, in the south-west
+parts of the kingdom. A young fellow is dressed up like an old beggar;
+a peruke, commonly made of carded tow, represents hoary locks; an old
+bonnet; a ragged plaid, or surtout, bound with a straw rope for a
+girdle; a pair of old shoes, with straw ropes twisted round his
+ankles, as is done by shepherds in snowy weather: his face they
+disguise as like wretched old age as they can: in this plight he is
+brought into the wedding-house, frequently to the astonishment of
+strangers, who are not in the secret, and begins to sing--
+
+    "O, I am a silly auld man,
+      My name it is auld Glenae," &c.
+
+He is asked to drink, and by and bye to dance, which after some
+uncouth excuses he is prevailed on to do, the fiddler playing the
+tune, which here is commonly called "Auld Glenae;" in short he is all
+the time so plied with liquor that he is understood to get
+intoxicated, and with all the ridiculous gesticulations of an old
+drunken beggar, he dances and staggers until he falls on the floor;
+yet still in all his riot, nay, in his rolling and tumbling on the
+floor, with some or other drunken motion of his body, he beats time to
+the music, till at last he is supposed to be carried out dead drunk.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+MUSING ON THE ROARING OCEAN.
+
+I composed these verses out of compliment to a Mrs. M'Lachlan, whose
+husband is an officer in the East Indies.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+BLYTHE WAS SHE.
+
+I composed these verses while I stayed at Ochtertyre with Sir William
+Murray.--The lady, who was also at Ochtertyre at the same time, was
+the well-known toast, Miss Euphemia Murray, of Lentrose; she was
+called, and very justly, "The Flower of Strathmore."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+JOHNNIE FAA, OR THE GYPSIE LADDIE.
+
+The people in Ayrshire begin this song--
+
+    "The gypsies cam to my Lord Cassilis' yett."--
+
+They have a great many more stanzas in this song than I ever yet saw
+in any printed copy.--The castle is still remaining at Maybole, where
+his lordship shut up his wayward spouse, and kept her for life.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+TO DAUNTON ME.
+
+The two following old stanzas to this tune have some merit:
+
+    "To daunton me, to daunton me,
+    O ken ye what it is that'll daunton me?--
+    There's eighty-eight and eighty-nine,
+    And a' that I hae borne sinsyne,
+    There's cess and press and Presbytrie,
+    I think it will do meikle for to daunton me.
+
+    But to wanton me, to wanton me,
+    O ken ye what it is that wad wanton me--
+    To see gude corn upon the rigs,
+    And banishment amang the Whigs,
+    And right restor'd where right sud be,
+    I think it would do meikle for to wanton me."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE BONNIE LASS MADE THE BED TO ME.
+
+"The Bonnie Lass made the Bed to me," was composed on an amour of
+Charles II. when skulking in the North, about Aberdeen, in the time of
+the usurpation. He formed _une petite affaire_ with a daughter of the
+house of Portletham, who was the "lass that made the bed to him:"--two
+verses of it are,
+
+    "I kiss'd her lips sae rosy red,
+      While the tear stood blinkin in her e'e;
+    I said, My lassie, dinna cry,
+      For ye ay shall make the bed to me.
+
+    She took her mither's holland sheets,
+      And made them a' in sarks to me;
+    Blythe and merry may she be,
+      The lass that made the bed to me."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+ABSENCE.
+
+A song in the manner of Shenstone.
+
+This song and air are both by Dr. Blacklock.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+I HAD A HORSE AND I HAD NAE MAIR.
+
+This story is founded on fact. A John Hunter, ancestor to a very
+respectable farming family, who live in a place in the parish, I
+think, of Galston, called Bar-mill, was the luckless hero that "had a
+horse and had nae mair."--For some little youthful follies he found it
+necessary to make a retreat to the West-Highlands, where "he feed
+himself to a _Highland_ Laird," for that is the expression of all the
+oral editions of the song I ever heard.--The present Mr. Hunter, who
+told me the anecdote, is the great-grandchild of our hero.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+UP AND WARN A' WILLIE.
+
+This edition of the song I got from Tom Niel, of facetious fame, in
+Edinburgh. The expression "Up and warn a' Willie," alludes to the
+Crantara, or warning of a Highland clan to arms. Not understanding
+this, the Lowlanders in the west and south say, "Up and _waur_ them
+a'," &c.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+A ROSE-BUD BY MY EARLY WALK.
+
+This song I composed on Miss Jenny Cruikshank, only child of my worthy
+friend Mr. William Cruikshank, of the High-School, Edinburgh. This air
+is by a David Sillar, quondam merchant, and now schoolmaster in
+Irvine. He is the _Davie_ to whom I address my printed poetical
+epistle in the measure of the Cherry and the Slae.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+AULD ROB MORRIS.
+
+It is remark-worthy that the song of "Holy and Fairly," in all the old
+editions of it, is called "The Drunken Wife o' Galloway," which
+localizes it to that country.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+RATTLIN, ROARIN WILLIE.
+
+The last stanza of this song is mine; it was composed out of
+compliment to one of the worthiest fellows in the world, William
+Dunbar, Esq., writer to the signet, Edinburgh, and Colonel of the
+Crochallan Corps, a club of wits who took that title at the time of
+raising the fencible regiments.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+WHERE BRAVING ANGRY WINTER STORMS.
+
+This song I composed on one of the most accomplished of women, Miss
+Peggy Chalmers, that was, now Mrs. Lewis Hay, of Forbes and Co.'s
+bank, Edinburgh.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+TIBBIE, I HAE SEEN THE DAY.
+
+This song I composed about the age of seventeen.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+NANCY'S GHOST.
+
+This song is by Dr. Blacklock.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+TUNE YOUR FIDDLES, ETC.
+
+This song was composed by the Rev. John Skinner, nonjuror clergyman at
+Linshart, near Peterhead. He is likewise author of "Tullochgorum,"
+"Ewie wi' the crooked Horn," "John o' Badenyond," &c., and what is of
+still more consequence, he is one of the worthiest of mankind. He is
+the author of an ecclesiastical history of Scotland. The air is by Mr.
+Marshall, butler to the Duke of Gordon; the first composer of
+strathspeys of the age. I have been told by somebody, who had it of
+Marshall himself, that he took the idea of his three most celebrated
+pieces, "The Marquis of Huntley's Reel," his "Farewell," and "Miss
+Admiral Gordon's Reel," from the old air, "The German Lairdie."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+GILL MORICE.
+
+This plaintive ballad ought to have been called Child Maurice, and not
+Gil Maurice. In its present dress, it has gained immortal honour from
+Mr. Home's taking from it the ground-work of his fine tragedy of
+Douglas. But I am of opinion that the present ballad is a modern
+composition; perhaps not much above the age of the middle of the last
+century; at least I should be glad to see or hear of a copy of the
+present words prior to 1650. That it was taken from an old ballad,
+called "Child Maurice," now lost, I am inclined to believe; but the
+present one may be classed with "Hardyknute," "Kenneth," "Duncan, the
+Laird of Woodhouselie," "Lord Livingston," "Binnorie," "The Death of
+Monteith," and many other modern productions, which have been
+swallowed by many readers as ancient fragments of old poems. This
+beautiful plaintive tune was composed by Mr. M'Gibbon, the selector of
+a collection of Scots tunes. R. B.
+
+In addition to the observations on Gil Morice, I add, that of the songs
+which Captain Riddel mentions, "Kenneth" and "Duncan" are juvenile
+compositions of Mr. M'Kenzie, "The Man of Feeling."--M'Kenzie's father
+showed them in MS. to Dr. Blacklock, as the productions of his son, from
+which the Doctor rightly prognosticated that the young poet would make,
+in his more advanced years, a respectable figure in the world of
+letters.
+
+This I had from Blacklock.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+TIBBIE DUNBAR.
+
+This tune is said to be the composition of John M'Gill, fiddler, in
+Girvan. He called it after his own name.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+WHEN I UPON THY BOSOM LEAN.
+
+This song was the work of a very worthy facetious old fellow, John
+Lapraik, late of Dalfram, near Muirkirk; which little property he was
+obliged to sell in consequence of some connexion as security for some
+persons concerned in that villanous bubble THE AYR BANK. He
+has often told me that he composed this song one day when his wife had
+been fretting o'er their misfortunes.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+MY HARRY WAS A GALLANT GAY.
+
+Tune--"Highlander's Lament."
+
+The oldest title I ever heard to this air, was, "The Highland Watch's
+Farewell to Ireland." The chorus I picked up from an old woman in
+Dumblane; the rest of the song is mine.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE HIGHLAND CHARACTER.
+
+This tune was the composition of Gen. Reid, and called by him "The
+Highland, or 42d Regiment's March." The words are by Sir Harry
+Erskine.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+LEADER-HAUGHS AND YARROW.
+
+There is in several collections, the old song of "Leader-Haughs and
+Yarrow." It seems to have been the work of one of our itinerant
+minstrels, as he calls himself, at the conclusion of his song,
+"Minstrel Burn."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE TAILOR FELL THRO' THE BED, THIMBLE AN' A'.
+
+This air is the march of the corporation of tailors. The second and
+fourth stanzas are mine.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+BEWARE O' BONNIE ANN.
+
+I composed this song out of compliment to Miss Ann Masterton, the
+daughter of my friend Allan Masterton, the author of the air of
+Strathallan's Lament, and two or three others in this work.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THIS IS NO MINE AIN HOUSE.
+
+The first half stanza is old, the rest is Ramsay's. The old words
+are--
+
+    "This is no mine ain house,
+      My ain house, my ain house;
+    This is no mine ain house,
+      I ken by the biggin o't.
+
+    Bread and cheese are my door-cheeks,
+      My door-cheeks, my door-cheeks;
+    Bread and cheese are my door-cheeks,
+      And pancakes the riggin o't.
+
+    This is no my ain wean;
+      My ain wean, my ain wean;
+    This is no my ain wean,
+      I ken by the greetie o't.
+
+    I'll tak the curchie aff my head,
+      Aff my head, aff my head;
+    I'll tak the curchie aff my head,
+      And row't about the feetie o't."
+
+The tune is an old Highland air, called "Shuan truish willighan."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+LADDIE, LIE NEAR ME.
+
+This song is by Blacklock.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE GARDENER AND HIS PAIDLE.
+
+This air is the "Gardener's March." The title of the song only is old;
+the rest is mine.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE DAY RETURNS, MY BOSOM BURNS.
+
+Tune.--"Seventh of November."
+
+I composed this song out of compliment to one of the happiest and
+worthiest married couples in the world, Robert Riddel, Esq., of
+Glenriddel, and his lady. At their fire-side I have enjoyed more
+pleasant evenings than at all the houses of fashionable people in this
+country put together; and to their kindness and hospitality I am
+indebted for many of the happiest hours of my life.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE GABERLUNZIE MAN.
+
+The "Gaberlunzie Man" is supposed to commemorate an intrigue of James
+the Fifth. Mr. Callander, of Craigforth, published some years ago an
+edition of "Christ's Kirk on the Green," and the "Gaberlunzie Man,"
+with notes critical and historical. James the Fifth is said to have
+been fond of Gosford, in Aberlady parish, and that it was suspected by
+his contemporaries, that in his frequent excursions to that part of
+the country, he had other purposes in view besides golfing and
+archery. Three favourite ladies, Sandilands, Weir, and Oliphant (one
+of them resided at Gosford, and the others in the neighbourhood), were
+occasionally visited by their royal and gallant admirer, which gave
+rise to the following advice to his majesty, from Sir David Lindsay,
+of the Mount, Lord Lyon.
+
+    "Sow not your seed on Sandylands,
+      spend not your strength in Weir,
+    And ride not on an Elephant,
+      For gawing o' your gear."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+MY BONNIE MARY.
+
+This air is Oswald's; the first half stanza of the song is old, the
+rest mine.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE BLACK EAGLE.
+
+This song is by Dr. Fordyce, whose merits as a prose writer are well
+known.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+JAMIE, COME TRY ME.
+
+This air is Oswald's; the song mine.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE LAZY MIST.
+
+This song is mine.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+JOHNIE COPE.
+
+This satirical song was composed to commemorate General Cope's defeat
+at Preston Pans, in 1745, when he marched against the Clans.
+
+The air was the tune of an old song, of which I have heard some
+verses, but now only remember the title, which was,
+
+    "Will ye go the coals in the morning."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+I LOVE MY JEAN.
+
+This air is by Marshall; the song I composed out of compliment to Mrs.
+Burns.
+
+N.B. It was during the honeymoon.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+CEASE, CEASE, MY DEAR FRIEND, TO EXPLORE.
+
+The song is by Dr. Blacklock; I believe, but am not quite certain,
+that the air is his too.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+AULD ROBIN GRAY.
+
+This air was formerly called, "The bridegroom greets when the sun
+gangs down." The words are by Lady Ann Lindsay, of the Balcarras
+family.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+DONALD AND FLORA.
+
+This is one of those fine Gaelic tunes, preserved from time immemorial
+in the Hebrides; they seem to be the ground-work of many of our finest
+Scots pastoral tunes. The words of this song were written to
+commemorate the unfortunate expedition of General Burgoyne in America,
+in 1777.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+O WERE I ON PARNASSUS' HILL.
+
+This air is Oswald's; the song I made out of compliment to Mrs. Burns.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE CAPTIVE ROBIN.
+
+This air is called "Robie donna Gorach."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THERE'S A YOUTH IN THIS CITY.
+
+This air is claimed by Neil Gow, who calls it his lament for his
+brother. The first half-stanza of the song is old; the rest mine.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+MY HEART'S IN THE HIGHLANDS.
+
+The first half-stanza of this song is old; the rest is mine.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+CA' THE EWES AND THE KNOWES.
+
+This beautiful song is in true old Scotch taste, yet I do not know
+that either air or words were in print before.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE BRIDAL O'T.
+
+This song is the work of a Mr. Alexander Ross, late schoolmaster at
+Lochlee; and author of a beautiful Scots poem, called "The Fortunate
+Shepherdess."
+
+    "They say that Jockey 'll speed weel o't,
+      They say that Jockey 'll speed weel o't,
+    For he grows brawer ilka day,
+      I hope we'll hae a bridal o't:
+    For yesternight nae farder gane,
+      The backhouse at the side wa' o't,
+    He there wi' Meg was mirden seen,
+      I hope we'll hae a bridal o't.
+
+    An' we had but a bridal o't,
+      An' we had but a bridal o't,
+    We'd leave the rest unto gude luck,
+      Altho' there should betide ill o't:
+    For bridal days are merry times,
+      And young folks like the coming o't,
+    And scribblers they bang up their rhymes,
+      And pipers they the bumming o't.
+
+    The lasses like a bridal o't,
+      The lasses like a bridal o't,
+    Their braws maun be in rank and file,
+      Altho' that they should guide ill o't:
+    The boddom o' the kist is then
+      Turn'd up into the inmost o't,
+    The end that held the kecks sae clean,
+      Is now become the teemest o't.
+
+    The bangster at the threshing o't.
+      The bangster at the threshing o't,
+    Afore it comes is fidgin-fain,
+      And ilka day's a clashing o't:
+    He'll sell his jerkin for a groat,
+      His linder for anither o't,
+    And e'er he want to clear his shot,
+      His sark'll pay the tither o't
+
+    The pipers and the fiddlers o't,
+      The pipers and the fiddlers o't,
+    Can smell a bridal unco' far,
+      And like to be the middlers o't;
+    Fan[293] thick and threefold they convene,
+      Ilk ane envies the tither o't,
+    And wishes nane but him alane
+      May ever see anither o't.
+
+    Fan they hae done wi' eating o't,
+      Fan they hae done wi' eating o't,
+    For dancing they gae to the green,
+      And aiblins to the beating o't:
+    He dances best that dances fast,
+      And loups at ilka reesing o't,
+    And claps his hands frae hough to hough,
+      And furls about the feezings o't."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+TODLEN HAME.
+
+This is perhaps the first bottle song that ever was composed.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE BRAES O' BALLOCHMYLE.
+
+This air is the composition of my friend Allan Masterton, in
+Edinburgh. I composed the verses on the amiable and excellent family
+of Whitefoords leaving Ballochmyle, when Sir John's misfortunes had
+obliged him to sell the estate.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE RANTIN' DOG, THE DADDIE O'T.
+
+I composed this song pretty early in life, and sent it to a young
+girl, a very particular acquaintance of mine, who was at that time
+under a cloud.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE SHEPHERD'S PREFERENCE.
+
+This song is Dr. Blacklock's.--I don't know how it came by the name,
+but the oldest appellation of the air was, "Whistle and I'll come to
+you, my lad."
+
+It has little affinity to the tune commonly known by that name.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE BONIE BANKS OF AYR.
+
+I composed this song as I conveyed my chest so far on the road to
+Greenock, where I was to embark in a few days for Jamaica.
+
+I meant it as my farewell dirge to my native land.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+JOHN O' BADENYON.
+
+This excellent song is the composition of my worthy friend, old
+Skinner, at Linshart.
+
+    "When first I cam to be a man
+      Of twenty years or so,
+    I thought myself a handsome youth,
+      And fain the world would know;
+    In best attire I stept abroad,
+      With spirits brisk and gay,
+    And here and there and everywhere,
+      Was like a morn in May;
+    No care had I nor fear of want,
+      But rambled up and down,
+    And for a beau I might have pass'd
+      In country or in town;
+    I still was pleas'd where'er I went,
+      And when I was alone,
+    I tun'd my pipe and pleas'd myself
+      Wi' John o' Badenyon.
+
+    Now in the days of youthful prime
+      A mistress I must find,
+    For _love_, I heard, gave one an air
+      And ev'n improved the mind:
+    On Phillis fair above the rest
+      Kind fortune fixt my eyes,
+    Her piercing beauty struck my heart,
+      And she became my choice;
+    To Cupid now with hearty prayer
+      I offer'd many a vow;
+    And danc'd, and sung, and sigh'd, and swore,
+      As other lovers do;
+    But, when at last I breath'd my flame,
+      I found her cold as stone;
+    I left the jilt, and tun'd my pipe
+      To John o' Badenyon.
+
+    When _love_ had thus my heart beguil'd
+      With foolish hopes and vain,
+    To _friendship's_ port I steer'd my course,
+      And laugh'd at lover's pain
+    A friend I got by lucky chance
+      'Twas something like divine,
+    An honest friend's a precious gift,
+      And such a gift was mine:
+    And now, whatever might betide,
+      A happy man was I,
+    In any strait I knew to whom
+      I freely might apply;
+    A strait soon came: my friend I try'd;
+      He heard, and spurn'd my moan;
+    I hy'd me home, and tun'd my pipe
+      To John o' Badenyon.
+
+    Methought I should be wiser next,
+      And would a _patriot_ turn,
+    Began to doat on Johnny Wilks,
+      And cry up Parson Horne.
+    Their manly spirit I admir'd,
+      And prais'd their noble zeal,
+    Who had with flaming tongue and pen
+      Maintain'd the public weal;
+    But e'er a month or two had past,
+      I found myself betray'd,
+    'Twas _self_ and _party_ after all,
+      For a' the stir they made;
+    At last I saw the factious knaves
+      Insult the very throne,
+    I curs'd them a', and tun'd my pipe
+      To John o' Badenyon."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+A WAUKRIFE MINNIE.
+
+I picked up this old song and tune from a country girl in
+Nithsdale.--I never met with it elsewhere in Scotland.
+
+    "Whare are you gaun, my bonie lass,
+      Whare are you gaun, my hinnie,
+    She answer'd me right saucilie,
+      An errand for my minnie.
+
+    O whare live ye, my bonnie lass,
+      O whare live ye, my hinnie,
+    By yon burn-side, gin ye maun ken,
+      In a wee house wi' my minnie.
+
+    But I foor up the glen at e'en,
+      To see my bonie lassie;
+    And lang before the gray morn cam,
+      She was na hauf sa sacie.
+
+    O weary fa' the waukrife cock,
+      And the foumart lay his crawin!
+    He wauken'd the auld wife frae her sleep,
+      A wee blink or the dawin.
+
+    An angry wife I wat she raise,
+      And o'er the bed she brought her;
+    And wi' a mickle hazle rung
+      She made her a weel pay'd dochter.
+
+    O fare thee weel, my bonie lass!
+      O fare thee weel, my hinnie!
+    Thou art a gay and a bonie lass,
+      But thou hast a waukrife minnie."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+TULLOCHGORUM.
+
+This first of songs, is the master-piece of my old friend Skinner. He
+was passing the day, at the town of Cullen, I think it was, in a
+friend's house whose name was Montgomery. Mrs. Montgomery observing,
+_en passant_, that the beautiful reel of Tullochgorum wanted words,
+she begged them of Mr. Skinner, who gratified her wishes, and the
+wishes of every Scottish song, in this most excellent ballad.
+
+These particulars I had from the author's son, Bishop Skinner, at
+Aberdeen.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+FOR A' THAT AND A' THAT.
+
+This song is mine, all except the chorus.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+AULD LANG SYNE.
+
+Ramsay here, as usual with him, has taken the idea of the song, and
+the first line, from the old fragment which may be seen in the
+"Museum," vol. v.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+WILLIE BREW'D A PECK O' MAUT.
+
+This air is Masterton's; the song mine.--The occasion of it was
+this:--Mr. W. Nicol, of the High-School, Edinburgh, during the autumn
+vacation being at Moffat, honest Allan, who was at that time on a
+visit to Dalswinton, and I, went to pay Nicol a visit.--We had such a
+joyous meeting that Mr. Masterton and I agreed, each in our own way,
+that we should celebrate the business.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+KILLIECRANKIE.
+
+The battle of Killiecrankie was the last stand made by the clans for
+James, after his abdication. Here the gallant Lord Dundee fell in the
+moment of victory, and with him fell the hopes of the party. General
+Mackay, when he found the Highlanders did not pursue his flying army,
+said, "Dundee must be killed, or he never would have overlooked this
+advantage." A great stone marks the spot where Dundee fell.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE EWIE WI' THE CROOKED HORN.
+
+Another excellent song of old Skinner's.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+CRAIGIE-BURN WOOD.
+
+It is remarkable of this air that it is the confine of that country
+where the greatest part of our Lowland music (so far as from the
+title, words, &c., we can localize it) has been composed. From
+Craigie-burn, near Moffat, until one reaches the West Highlands, we
+have scarcely one slow air of any antiquity.
+
+The song was composed on a passion which a Mr. Gillespie, a particular
+friend of mine, had for a Miss Lorimer, afterwards a Mrs. Whelpdale.
+This young lady was born at Craigie-burn Wood.--The chorus is part of
+an old foolish ballad.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+FRAE THE FRIENDS AND LAND I LOVE.
+
+I added the four last lines, by way of giving a turn to the theme of
+the poem, such as it is.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+HUGHIE GRAHAM
+
+There are several editions of this ballad.--This, here inserted, is
+from oral tradition in Ayrshire, where, when I was a boy, it was a
+popular song.--It originally had a simple old tune, which I have
+forgotten.
+
+    "Our lords are to the mountains gane,
+      A hunting o' the fallow deer,
+    And they have gripet Hughie Graham,
+      For stealing o' the bishop's mare.
+
+    And they have tied him hand and foot,
+      And led him up, thro' Stirling town;
+    The lads and lasses met him there,
+      Cried, Hughie Graham, thou art a loun.
+
+    O lowse my right hand free, he says,
+      And put my braid sword in the same;
+    He's no in Stirling town this day,
+      Dare tell the tale to Hughie Graham.
+
+    Up then bespake the brave Whitefoord,
+      As he sat by the bishop's knee,
+    Five hundred white stots I'll gie you,
+      If ye'll let Hughie Graham gae free.
+
+    O haud your tongue, the bishop says,
+      And wi' your pleading let me be;
+    For tho' ten Grahams were in his coat,
+      Hughie Graham this day shall die.
+
+    Up then bespake the fair Whitefoord,
+      As she sat by the bishop's knee;
+    Five hundred white pence I'll gie you,
+      If ye'll gie Hughie Graham to me.
+
+    O haud your tongue now, lady fair,
+      And wi' your pleading let it be;
+    Altho' ten Grahams were in his coat,
+      It's for my honour he maun die.
+
+    They've ta'en him to the gallows knowe,
+      He looked to the gallows tree,
+    Yet never colour left his cheek,
+      Nor ever did he blink his e'e
+
+    At length he looked around about,
+      To see whatever he could spy:
+    And there he saw his auld father,
+      And he was weeping bitterly.
+
+    O haud your tongue, my father dear,
+      And wi' your weeping let it be;
+    Thy weeping's sairer on my heart,
+      Than a' that they can do to me.
+
+    And ye may gie my brother John
+      My sword that's bent in the middle clear;
+    And let him come at twelve o'clock,
+      And see me pay the bishop's mare.
+
+    And ye may gie my brother James
+      My sword that's bent in the middle brown;
+    And bid him come at four o'clock,
+      And see his brother Hugh cut down.
+
+    Remember me to Maggy my wife,
+      The neist time ye gang o'er the moor,
+    Tell her she staw the bishop's mare,
+      Tell her she was the bishop's whore.
+
+    And ye may tell my kith and kin,
+      I never did disgrace their blood;
+    And when they meet the bishop's cloak,
+      To mak it shorter by the hood."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+A SOUTHLAND JENNY.
+
+This is a popular Ayrshire song, though the notes were never taken
+down before. It, as well as many of the ballad tunes in this
+collection, was written from Mrs. Burns's voice.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+MY TOCHER'S THE JEWEL.
+
+This tune is claimed by Nathaniel Gow.--It is notoriously taken from
+"The muckin o' Gordie's byre."--It is also to be found long prior to
+Nathaniel Gow's era, in Aird's Selection of Airs and Marches, the
+first edition under the name of "The Highway to Edinburgh."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THEN, GUID WIFE, COUNT THE LAWIN'.
+
+The chorus of this is part of an old song, no stanza of which I
+recollect.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THERE'LL NEVER BE PEACE TILL JAMIE COMES HAME.
+
+This tune is sometimes called "There's few gude fellows when Willie's
+awa."--But I never have been able to meet with anything else of the
+song than the title.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+I DO CONFESS THOU ART SAE FAIR.
+
+This song is altered from a poem by Sir Robert Ayton, private
+secretary to Mary and Ann, Queens of Scotland.--The poem is to be
+found in James Watson's Collection of Scots Poems, the earliest
+collection printed in Scotland. I think that I have improved the
+simplicity of the sentiments, by giving them a Scots dress.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE SODGER LADDIE.
+
+The first verse of this is old; the rest is by Ramsay. The tune seems
+to be the same with a slow air, called "Jackey Hume's Lament"--or,
+"The Hollin Buss"--or "Ken ye what Meg o' the Mill has gotten?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+WHERE WAD BONNIE ANNIE LIE.
+
+The old name of this tune is,--
+
+"Whare'll our gudeman lie."
+
+A silly old stanza of it runs thus--
+
+    "O whare'll our gudeman lie,
+      Gudeman lie, gudeman lie,
+    O whare'll our gudeman lie,
+      Till he shute o'er the simmer?
+
+    Up amang the hen-bawks,
+      The hen-bawks, the hen-bawks,
+    Up amang the hen-bawks,
+      Amang the rotten timmer."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+GALLOWAY TAM.
+
+I have seen an interlude (acted at a wedding) to this tune, called
+"The Wooing of the Maiden." These entertainments are now much worn out
+in this part of Scotland. Two are still retained in Nithsdale, viz.
+"Silly Pure Auld Glenae," and this one, "The Wooing of the Maiden."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+AS I CAM DOWN BY YON CASTLE WA.
+
+This is a very popular Ayrshire song.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+LORD RONALD MY SON.
+
+This air, a very favourite one in Ayrshire, is evidently the original
+of Lochaber. In this manner most of our finest more modern airs have
+had their origin. Some early minstrel, or musical shepherd, composed
+the simple, artless original air; which being picked up by the more
+learned musician, took the improved form it bears.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+O'ER THE MOOR AMANG THE HEATHER.
+
+This song is the composition of a Jean Glover, a girl who was not only
+a whore, but also a thief; and in one or other character has visited
+most of the Correction Houses in the West. She was born I believe in
+Kilmarnock,--I took the song down from her singing, as she was
+strolling through the country, with a sleight-of-hand blackguard.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+TO THE ROSE-BUD.
+
+This song is the composition of a ---- Johnson, a joiner in the
+neighbourhood of Belfast. The tune is by Oswald, altered, evidently,
+from "Jockie's Gray Breeks."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+YON WILD MOSSY MOUNTAINS.
+
+This tune is by Oswald. The song alludes to a part of my private
+history, which it is of no consequence to the world to know.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+IT IS NA, JEAN, THY BONNIE FACE.
+
+These were originally English verses:--I gave them the Scots dress.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+EPPIE M'NAB.
+
+The old song with this title has more wit than decency.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+WHA IS THAT AT MY BOWER DOOR.
+
+This tune is also known by the name of "Lass an I come near thee." The
+words are mine.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THOU ART GANE AWA.
+
+This time is the same with "Haud awa frae me, Donald."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE TEARS I SHED MUST EVER FALL.
+
+This song of genius was composed by a Miss Cranston. It wanted four
+lines, to make all the stanzas suit the music, which I added, and are
+the four first of the last stanza.
+
+    "No cold approach, no alter'd mien,
+      Just what would make suspicion start;
+    No pause the dire extremes between,
+      He made me blest--and broke my heart!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE BONIE WEE THING.
+
+Composed on my little idol "the charming, lovely Davies."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE TITHER MORN.
+
+This tune is originally from the Highlands. I have heard a Gaelic song
+to it, which I was told was very clever, but not by any means a lady's
+song.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+A MOTHER'S LAMENT FOR THE DEATH OF HER SON.
+
+This most beautiful tune is, I think, the happiest composition of that
+bard-born genius, John Riddel, of the family of Glencarnock, at Ayr.
+The words were composed to commemorate the much-lamented and premature
+death of James Ferguson, Esq., jun. of Craigdarroch.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+DAINTIE DAVIE.
+
+This song, tradition says, and the composition itself confirms it, was
+composed on the Rev. David Williamson's begetting the daughter of Lady
+Cherrytrees with child, while a party of dragoons were searching her
+house to apprehend him for being an adherent to the solemn league and
+covenant. The pious woman had put a lady's night-cap on him, and had
+laid him a-bed with her own daughter, and passed him to the soldiery
+as a lady, her daughter's bed-fellow. A mutilated stanza or two are to
+be found in Herd's collection, but the original song consists of five
+or six stanzas, and were their _delicacy_ equal to their _wit_ and
+_humour_, they would merit a place in any collection. The first stanza
+is
+
+    "Being pursued by the dragoons,
+    Within my bed he was laid down;
+    And weel I wat he was worth his room,
+      For he was my Daintie Davie."
+
+Ramsay's song, "Luckie Nansy," though he calls it an old song with
+additions, seems to be all his own except the chorus:
+
+    "I was a telling you,
+      Luckie Nansy, Luckie Nansy
+    Auld springs wad ding the new,
+      But ye wad never trow me."
+
+Which I should conjecture to be part of a song prior to the affair of
+Williamson.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+BOB O' DUMBLANE.
+
+RAMSAY, as usual, has modernized this song. The original,
+which I learned on the spot, from my old hostess in the principal inn
+there, is--
+
+    "Lassie, lend me your braw hemp heckle,
+      And I'll lend you my thripplin-kame;
+    My heckle is broken, it canna be gotten,
+      And we'll gae dance the bob o' Dumblane.
+
+    Twa gaed to the wood, to the wood, to the wood.
+      Twa gaed to the wood--three came hame;
+    An' it be na weel bobbit, weel bobbit, weel bobbit
+      An' it be na weel bobbit, we'll bob it again."
+
+I insert this song to introduce the following anecdote, which I have
+heard well authenticated. In the evening of the day of the battle of
+Dumblane, (Sheriff Muir,) when the action was over, a Scots officer in
+Argyll's army, observed to His Grace, that he was afraid the rebels
+would give out to the world that _they_ had gotten the victory.--"Weel,
+weel," returned his Grace, alluding to the foregoing ballad, "if they
+think it be nae weel bobbit, we'll bob it again."
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 293: _Fan_, when--the dialect of Angus.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+THE BORDER TOUR.
+
+
+Left Edinburgh (May 6, 1787)--Lammermuir-hills miserably dreary, but
+at times very picturesque. Lanton-edge, a glorious view of the
+Merse--Reach Berrywell--old Mr. Ainslie an uncommon character;--his
+hobbies, agriculture, natural philosophy, and politics.--In the first
+he is unexceptionably the clearest-headed, best-informed man I ever
+met with; in the other two, very intelligent:--As a man of business he
+has uncommon merit, and by fairly deserving it has made a very decent
+independence. Mrs. Ainslie, an excellent, sensible, cheerful, amiable
+old woman--Miss Ainslie--her person a little _embonpoint_, but
+handsome; her face, particularly her eyes, full of sweetness and good
+humour--she unites three qualities rarely to be found together; keen,
+solid penetration; sly, witty observation and remark; and the
+gentlest, most unaffected female modesty--Douglas, a clever, fine,
+promising young fellow.--The family-meeting with their brother; my
+_compagnon de voyage_, very charming; particularly the sister. The
+whole family remarkably attached to their menials--Mrs. A. full of
+stories of the sagacity and sense of the little girl in the
+kitchen.--Mr. A. high in the praises of an African, his
+house-servant--all his people old in his service--Douglas's old nurse
+came to Berrywell yesterday to remind them of its being his birthday.
+
+A Mr. Dudgeon, a poet at times,[294] a worthy remarkable
+character--natural penetration, a great deal of information, some
+genius, and extreme modesty.
+
+_Sunday._--Went to church at Dunse[295]--Dr. Howmaker a man of strong
+lungs and pretty judicious remark; but ill skilled in propriety, and
+altogether unconscious of his want of it.
+
+_Monday._--Coldstream--went over to England--Cornhill--glorious river
+Tweed--clear and majestic--fine bridge. Dine at Coldstream with Mr.
+Ainslie and Mr. Foreman--beat Mr. F---- in a dispute about Voltaire. Tea
+at Lenel House with Mr. Brydone--Mr. Brydone a most excellent heart,
+kind, joyous, and benevolent; but a good deal of the French
+indiscriminate complaisance--from his situation past and present, an
+admirer of everything that bears a splendid title, or that possesses a
+large estate--Mrs. Brydone a most elegant woman in her person and
+manners; the tones of her voice remarkably sweet--my reception extremely
+flattering--sleep at Coldstream.
+
+_Tuesday._--Breakfast at Kelso--charming situation of Kelso--fine
+bridge over the Tweed--enchanting views and prospects on both sides of
+the river, particularly the Scotch side; introduced to Mr. Scott of
+the Royal Bank--an excellent, modest fellow--fine situation of
+it--ruins of Roxburgh Castle--a holly-bush, growing where James II. of
+Scotland was accidentally killed by the bursting of a cannon. A small
+old religious ruin, and a fine old garden planted by the religious,
+rooted out and destroyed by an English hottentot, a _maitre d'hotel_
+of the duke's, a Mr. Cole--climate and soil of Berwickshire, and even
+Roxburghshire, superior to Ayrshire--bad roads. Turnip and sheep
+husbandry, their great improvements--Mr. M'Dowal, at Caverton Mill, a
+friend of Mr. Ainslie's, with whom I dined to-day, sold his sheep, ewe
+and lamb together, at two guineas a piece--wash their sheep before
+shearing--seven or eight pounds of washen wool in a fleece--low
+markets, consequently low rents--fine lands not above sixteen
+shillings a Scotch acre--magnificence of farmers and farm-houses--come
+up Teviot and up Jed to Jedburgh to lie, and so wish myself a good
+night.
+
+_Wednesday._--Breakfast with Mr. ---- in Jedburgh--a squabble between
+Mrs. ----, a crazed, talkative slattern, and a sister of hers, an old
+maid, respecting a relief minister--Miss gives Madam the lie; and
+Madam, by way of revenge, upbraids her that she laid snares to
+entangle the said minister, then a widower, in the net of
+matrimony--go about two miles out of Jedburgh to a roup of parks--meet
+a polite, soldier-like gentleman, a Captain Rutherford, who had been
+many years through the wilds of America, a prisoner among the
+Indians--charming, romantic situation of Jedburgh, with gardens,
+orchards, &c., intermingled among the houses--fine old ruins--a once
+magnificent cathedral, and strong castle. All the towns here have the
+appearance of old, rude grandeur, but the people extremely idle--Jed a
+fine romantic little river.
+
+Dine with Capt. Rutherford--the Captain a polite fellow, fond of money
+in his farming way; showed a particular respect to my bardship--his
+lady exactly a proper matrimonial second part for him. Miss Rutherford
+a beautiful girl, but too far gone woman to expose so much of a fine
+swelling bosom--her face very fine.
+
+Return to Jedburgh--walk up Jed with some ladies to be shown Love-lane
+and Blackburn, two fairy scenes. Introduced to Mr. Potts, writer, a
+very clever fellow; and Mr. Somerville, the clergyman of the place, a
+man and a gentleman, but sadly addicted to punning.--The walking party
+of ladies, Mrs. ---- and Miss ---- her sister, before mentioned.--N.B.
+These two appear still more comfortably ugly and stupid, and bore me
+most shockingly. Two Miss ----, tolerably agreeable. Miss Hope, a
+tolerably pretty girl, fond of laughing and fun. Miss Lindsay, a
+good-humoured, amiable girl; rather short _et embonpoint_, but
+handsome, and extremely graceful--beautiful hazel eyes, full of
+spirit, and sparkling with delicious moisture--an engaging face--_un
+tout ensemble_ that speaks her of the first order of female minds--her
+sister, a bonnie, strappan, rosy, sonsie lass. Shake myself loose,
+after several unsuccessful efforts, of Mrs. ---- and Miss ----, and
+somehow or other, get hold of Miss Lindsay's arm. My heart is thawed
+into melting pleasure after being so long frozen up in the Greenland
+bay of indifference, amid the noise and nonsense of Edinburgh. Miss
+seems very well pleased with my bardship's distinguishing her, and
+after some slight qualms, which I could easily mark, she sets the
+titter round at defiance, and kindly allows me to keep my hold; and
+when parted by the ceremony of my introduction to Mr. Somerville, she
+met me half, to resume my situation.--Nota Bene--The poet within a
+point and a half of being d--mnably in love--I am afraid my bosom is
+still nearly as much tinder as ever.
+
+The old cross-grained, whiggish, ugly, slanderous Miss ----, with all
+the poisonous spleen of a disappointed, ancient maid, stops me very
+unseasonably to ease her bursting breast, by falling abusively foul
+on the Miss Lindsays, particularly on my Dulcinea;--I hardly refrain
+from cursing her to her face for daring to mouth her calumnious
+slander on one of the finest pieces of the workmanship of Almighty
+Excellence! Sup at Mr. ----'s; vexed that the Miss Lindsays are not of
+the supper-party, as they only are wanting. Mrs. ---- and Miss ----still
+improve infernally on my hands.
+
+Set out next morning for Wauchope, the seat of my correspondent, Mrs.
+Scott--breakfast by the way with Dr. Elliot, an agreeable,
+good-hearted, climate-beaten old veteran, in the medical line; now
+retired to a romantic, but rather moorish place, on the banks of the
+Roole--he accompanies us almost to Wauchope--we traverse the country
+to the top of Bochester, the scene of an old encampment, and Woolee
+Hill.
+
+Wauchope--Mr. Scott exactly the figure and face commonly given to
+Sancho Panca--very shrewd in his farming matters, and not unfrequently
+stumbles on what may be called a strong thing rather than a good
+thing. Mrs. Scott all the sense, taste, intrepidity of face, and bold,
+critical decision, which usually distinguish female authors.--Sup with
+Mr. Potts--agreeable party.--Breakfast next morning with Mr.
+Somerville--the _bruit_ of Miss Lindsay and my bardship, by means of
+the invention and malice of Miss ----. Mr. Somerville sends to Dr.
+Lindsay, begging him and family to breakfast if convenient, but at all
+events to send Miss Lindsay; accordingly Miss Lindsay only comes.--I
+find Miss Lindsay would soon play the devil with me--I met with some
+little flattering attentions from her. Mrs. Somerville an excellent,
+motherly, agreeable woman, and a fine family.--Mr. Ainslie, and Mrs.
+S----, junrs., with Mr. ----, Miss Lindsay, and myself, go to see
+_Esther_, a very remarkable woman for reciting poetry of all kinds,
+and sometimes making Scotch doggerel herself--she can repeat by heart
+almost everything she has ever read, particularly Pope's Homer from
+end to end--has studied Euclid by herself, and in short, is a woman of
+very extraordinary abilities.--On conversing with her I find her fully
+equal to the character given of her.[296]--She is very much flattered
+that I send for her, and that she sees a poet who has _put out a
+book_, as she says.--She is, among other things, a great florist--and
+is rather past the meridian of once celebrated beauty.
+
+I walk in _Esther's_ garden with Miss Lindsay, and after some little
+chit-chat of the tender kind, I presented her with a proof print of my
+Nob, which she accepted with something more tinder than gratitude. She
+told me many little stories which Miss ---- had retailed concerning her
+and me, with prolonging pleasure--God bless her! Was waited on by the
+magistrates, and presented with the freedom of the burgh.
+
+Took farewell of Jedburgh, with some melancholy, disagreeable
+sensations.--Jed, pure be thy crystal streams, and hallowed thy sylvan
+banks! Sweet Isabella Lindsay, may peace dwell in thy bosom,
+uninterrupted, except by the tumultuous throbbings of rapturous love!
+That love-kindling eye must beam on another, not on me; that graceful
+form must bless another's arms; not mine!
+
+Kelso. Dine with the farmers' club--all gentlemen, talking of high
+matters--each of them keeps a hunter from thirty to fifty pounds
+value, and attends the fox-huntings in the country--go out with Mr.
+Ker, one of the club, and a friend of Mr. Ainslie's, to lie--Mr. Ker a
+most gentlemanly, clever, handsome fellow, a widower with some fine
+children--his mind and manner astonishingly like my dear old friend
+Robert Muir, in Kilmarnock--everything in Mr. Ker's most elegant--he
+offers to accompany me in my English tour. Dine with Sir Alexander
+Don--a pretty clever fellow, but far from being a match for his divine
+lady.--A very wet day * * *--Sleep at Stodrig again; and set out for
+Melrose--visit Dryburgh, a fine old ruined abbey--still bad
+weather--cross Leader, and come up Tweed to Melrose--dine there, and
+visit that far-famed, glorious ruin--come to Selkirk, up Ettrick; the
+whole country hereabout, both on Tweed and Ettrick, remarkably stony.
+
+_Monday._--Come to Inverleithing, a famous shaw, and in the vicinity
+of the palace of Traquair, where having dined, and drank some
+Galloway-whey, I hero remain till to-morrow--saw Elibanks and
+Elibraes, on the other side of the Tweed.
+
+_Tuesday._--Drank tea yesternight at Pirn, with Mr.
+Horseburgh.--Breakfasted to-day with Mr. Ballantyne of
+Hollowlee--Proposal for a four-horse team to consist of Mr. Scott of
+Wauchope, Fittieland: Logan of Logan, Fittiefurr: Ballantyne of
+Hollowlee, Forewynd: Horsburgh of Horsburgh.--Dine at a country inn,
+kept by a miller, in Earlston, the birth-place and residence of the
+celebrated Thomas a Rhymer--saw the ruins of his castle--come to
+Berrywell.
+
+_Wednesday._--Dine at Dunse with the farmers' club-company--impossible
+to do them justice--Rev. Mr. Smith a famous punster, and Mr. Meikle a
+celebrated mechanic, and inventor of the threshing-mills.
+
+_Thursday_, breakfast at Berrywell, and walk into Dunse to see a
+famous knife made by a cutler there, and to be presented to an Italian
+prince.--A pleasant ride with my friend Mr. Robert Ainslie, and his
+sister, to Mr. Thomson's, a man who has newly commenced farmer, and
+has married a Miss Patty Grieve, formerly a flame of Mr. Robert
+Ainslie's.--Company--Miss Jacky Grieve, an amiable sister of Mrs.
+Thomson's, and Mr. Hood, an honest, worthy, facetious farmer, in the
+neighbourhood.
+
+_Friday._--Ride to Berwick--An idle town, rudely picturesque.--Meet
+Lord Errol in walking round the walls.--His lordship's flattering
+notice of me.--Dine with Mr. Clunzie, merchant--nothing particular in
+company or conversation--Come up a bold shore, and over a wild country
+to Eyemouth--sup and sleep at Mr. Grieve's.
+
+_Saturday._--Spend the day at Mr. Grieve's--made a royal arch mason of
+St. Abb's Lodge,[297]--Mr. William Grieve, the oldest brother, a joyous,
+warm-hearted, jolly, clever fellow--takes a hearty glass, and sings a
+good song.--Mr. Robert, his brother, and partner in trade, a good
+fellow, but says little. Take a sail after dinner. Fishing of all
+kinds pays tithes at Eyemouth.
+
+_Sunday._--A Mr. Robinson, brewer at Ednam, sets out with us to
+Dunbar.
+
+The Miss Grieves very good girls.--My bardship's heart got a brush
+from Miss Betsey.
+
+Mr. William Grieve's attachment to the family-circle, so fond, that
+when he is out, which by the bye is often the case, he cannot go to
+bed till he see if all his sisters are sleeping well ---- Pass the
+famous Abbey of Coldingham, and Pease-bridge.--Call at Mr. Sheriff's
+where Mr. A. and I dine.--Mr. S. talkative and conceited. I talk of
+love to Nancy the whole evening, while her brother escorts home some
+companions like himself.--Sir James Hall of Dunglass, having heard of
+my being in the neighbourhood, comes to Mr. Sheriff's to
+breakfast--takes me to see his fine scenery on the stream of
+Dunglass--Dunglass the most romantic, sweet place I over saw--Sir
+James and his lady a pleasant happy couple.--He points out a walk for
+which he has an uncommon respect, as it was made by an aunt of his, to
+whom he owes much.
+
+Miss ---- will accompany me to Dunbar, by way of making a parade of me as a
+sweetheart of hers, among her relations. She mounts an old cart-horse, as
+huge and as lean as a house; a rusty old side-saddle without girth, or
+stirrup, but fastened on with an old pillion-girth--herself as fine as
+hands could make her, in cream-coloured riding clothes, hat and feather,
+&c.--I, ashamed of my situation, ride like the devil, and almost shake her
+to pieces on old Jolly--get rid of her by refusing to call at her uncle's
+with her.
+
+Past through the most glorious corn-country I ever saw, till I reach
+Dunbar, a neat little town.--Dine with Provost Fall, an eminent
+merchant, and most respectable character, but undescribable, as he
+exhibits no marked traits. Mrs. Fall, a genius in painting; fully more
+clever in the fine arts and sciences than my friend Lady Wauchope,
+without her consummate assurance of her own abilities.--Call with Mr.
+Robinson (who, by the bye, I find to be a worthy, much respected man,
+very modest; warm, social heart, which with less good sense than his
+would be perhaps with the children of prim precision and pride, rather
+inimical to that respect which is man's due from man) with him I call
+on Miss Clarke, a maiden in the Scotch phrase, "_Guid enough, but no
+brent new_:" a clever woman, with tolerable pretensions to remark and
+wit; while time had blown the blushing bud of bashful modesty into the
+flower of easy confidence. She wanted to see what sort of _raree show_
+an author was; and to let him know, that though Dunbar was but a
+little town, yet it was not destitute of people of parts.
+
+Breakfast next morning at Skateraw, at Mr. Lee's, a farmer of great
+note.--Mr. Lee, an excellent, hospitable, social fellow, rather
+oldish; warm-hearted and chatty--a most judicious, sensible farmer.
+Mr. Lee detains me till next morning.--Company at dinner.--My Rev.
+acquaintance Dr. Bowmaker, a reverend, rattling old fellow.--Two sea
+lieutenants; a cousin of the landlord's, a fellow whose looks are of
+that kind which deceived me in a gentleman at Kelso, and has often
+deceived me: a goodly handsome figure and face, which incline one to
+give them credit for parts which they have not. Mr. Clarke, a much
+cleverer fellow, but whose looks a little cloudy, and his appearance
+rather ungainly, with an every-day observer may prejudice the opinion
+against him.--Dr. Brown, a medical young gentleman from Dunbar, a
+fellow whose face and manners are open and engaging.--Leave Skateraw
+for Dunse next day, along with collector ----, a lad of slender
+abilities and bashfully diffident to an extreme.
+
+Found Miss Ainslie, the amiable, the sensible, the good-humoured, the
+sweet Miss Ainslie, all alone at Berrywell.--Heavenly powers, who know
+the weakness of human hearts, support mine! What happiness must I see
+only to remind me that I cannot enjoy it!
+
+Lammer-muir Hills, from East Lothian to Dunse, very wild.--Dine with
+the farmer's club at Kelso. Sir John Hume and Mr. Lumsden there, but
+nothing worth remembrance when the following circumstance is
+considered--I walk into Dunse before dinner, and out to Berrywell in
+the evening with Miss Ainslie--how well-bred, how frank, how good she
+is! Charming Rachael! may thy bosom never be wrung by the evils of
+this life of sorrows, or by the villany of this world's sons!
+
+_Thursday._--Mr. Ker and I set out to dine at Mr. Hood's on our way to
+England.
+
+I am taken extremely ill with strong feverish symptoms, and take a
+servant of Mr. Hood's to watch me all night--embittering remorse
+scares my fancy at the gloomy forebodings of death.--I am determined
+to live for the future in such a manner as not to be scared at the
+approach of death--I am sure I could meet him with indifference, but
+for "The something beyond the grave."--Mr. Hood agrees to accompany us
+to England if we will wait till Sunday.
+
+_Friday._--I go with Mr. Hood to see a roup of an unfortunate farmer's
+stock--rigid economy, and decent industry, do you preserve me from
+being the principal _dramatis persona_ in such a scene of horror.
+
+Meet my good old friend Mr. Ainslie, who calls on Mr. Hood in the
+evening to take farewell of my bardship. This day I feel myself warm
+with sentiments of gratitude to the Great Preserver of men, who has
+kindly restored me to health and strength once more.
+
+A pleasant walk with my young friend Douglas Ainslie, a sweet, modest,
+clever young fellow.
+
+_Sunday_, 27_th May._--Cross Tweed, and traverse the moors through a
+wild country till I reach Alnwick--Alnwick Castle a seat of the Duke
+of Northumberland, furnished in a most princely manner.--A Mr. Wilkin,
+agent of His Grace's, shows us the house and policies. Mr. Wilkin, a
+discreet, sensible, ingenious man.
+
+_Monday._--Come, still through by-ways, to Warkworth, where we
+dine.--Hermitage and old castle. Warkworth situated very picturesque,
+with Coquet Island, a small rocky spot, the seat of an old monastery,
+facing it a little in the sea; and the small but romantic river
+Coquet, running through it.--Sleep at Morpeth, a pleasant enough
+little town, and on next day to Newcastle.--Meet with a very
+agreeable, sensible fellow, a Mr. Chattox, who shows us a great many
+civilities, and who dines and sups with us.
+
+_Wednesday._--Left Newcastle early in the morning, and rode over a
+fine country to Hexham to breakfast--from Hexham to Wardrue, the
+celebrated Spa, where we slept.
+
+_Thursday_--Reach Longtown to dine, and part there with my good
+friends Messrs. Hood and Ker--A hiring day in Longtown--I am
+uncommonly happy to see so many young folks enjoying life.--I come to
+Carlisle.--(Meet a strange enough romantic adventure by the way, in
+falling in with a girl and her married sister--the girl, after some
+overtures of gallantry on my side, sees me a little cut with the
+bottle, and offers to take me in for a Gretna-Green affair.--I, not
+being such a gull, as she imagines, make an appointment with her, by
+way of _vive la bagatelle_, to hold a conference on it when we reach
+town.--I meet her in town and give her a brush of caressing, and a
+bottle of cider; but finding herself _un peu trompe_ in her man she
+sheers off.) Next day I meet my good friend, Mr. Mitchell, and walk
+with him round the town and its environs, and through his
+printing-works, &c.--four or five hundred people employed, many of
+them women and children.--Dine with Mr. Mitchell, and leave
+Carlisle.--Come by the coast to Annan.--Overtaken on the way by a
+curious old fish of a shoemaker, and miner, from Cumberland mines.
+
+[_Here the manuscript abruptly terminates._]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 294: The author of that fine song, "The Maid that tends the
+Goats."]
+
+[Footnote 295: "During the discourse Burns produced a neat impromptu,
+conveying an elegant compliment to Miss Ainslie. Dr. B. had selected a
+text of Scripture that contained a heavy denunciation against
+obstinate sinners. In the course of the sermon Burns observed the
+young lady turning over the leaves of her Bible, with much
+earnestness, in search of the text. He took out a slip of paper, and
+with a pencil wrote the following lines on it, which he immediately
+presented to her.
+
+    "Fair maid, you need not take the hint,
+      Nor idle texts pursue:--
+    'Twas _guilty sinners_ that he meant,--
+      Not _angels_ such as you."
+
+Cromek.]
+
+[Footnote 296: "This extraordinary woman then moved in a very humble
+walk of life:--the wife of a common working gardener. She is still
+living, and, if I am rightly informed, her time is principally occupied
+in her attentions to a little day-school, which not being sufficient for
+her subsistence, she is obliged to solicit the charily of her benevolent
+neighbours. 'Ah, who would love the lyre!'"--CROMEK.]
+
+[Footnote 297: The entry made on this occasion in the Lodge-books of St
+Abb's is honorable to
+
+     "The brethren of the mystic level."
+
+"_Eyemouth_, 19_th May_, 1787.
+
+"At a general encampment held this day, the following brethren were
+made royal arch masons, viz. Robert Burns, from the Lodge of St.
+James's, Tarbolton, Ayrshire, and Robert Ainslie, from the Lodge of
+St. Luke's, Edinburgh by James Carmichael, Wm. Grieve, Daniel Dow,
+John Clay, Robert Grieve, &c. &c. Robert Ainslie paid one guinea
+admission dues; but on account of R. Burns's remarkable poetical
+genius, the encampment unanimously agreed to admit him gratis, and
+considered themselves honoured by having a man of such shining
+abilities for one of their companions."
+
+Extracted from the Minute Book of the Lodge by THOMAS
+BOWBILL]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+THE HIGHLAND TOUR.
+
+
+25_th August_, 1787.
+
+I leave Edinburgh for a northern tour, in company with my good friend
+Mr. Nicol, whose originality of humour promises me much
+entertainment.--Linlithgow--a fertile improved country--West Lothian.
+The more elegance and luxury among the farmers, I always observe in
+equal proportion, the rudeness and stupidity of the peasantry. This
+remark I have made all over the Lothians, Merse, Roxburgh, &c. For
+this, among other reasons, I think that a man of romantic taste, a
+"Man of Feeling," will be better pleased with the poverty, but
+intelligent minds of the peasantry in Ayrshire (peasantry they are all
+below the justice of peace) than the opulence of a club of Merse
+farmers, when at the same time, he considers the vandalism of their
+plough-folks, &c. I carry this idea so far, that an unenclosed, half
+improven country is to me actually more agreeable, and gives me more
+pleasure as a prospect, than a country cultivated like a garden.--Soil
+about Linlithgow light and thin.--The town carries the appearance of
+rude, decayed grandeur--charmingly rural, retired situation. The old
+royal palace a tolerably fine, but melancholy ruin--sweetly situated
+on a small elevation, by the brink of a loch. Shown the room where the
+beautiful, injured Mary Queen of Scots was born--a pretty good old
+Gothic church. The infamous stool of repentance standing, in the old
+Romish way, on a lofty situation.
+
+What a poor pimping business is a Presbyterian place of worship;
+dirty, narrow, and squalid; stuck in a corner of old popish grandeur
+such as Linlithgow, and much more, Melrose! Ceremony and show, if
+judiciously thrown in, absolutely necessary for the bulk of mankind,
+both in religious and civil matters.--Dine.--Go to my friend
+Smith's at Avon printfield--find nobody but Mrs. Miller, an agreeable,
+sensible, modest, good body; as useful, but not so ornamental as
+Fielding's Miss Western--not rigidly polite _a la Francais_, but easy,
+hospitable, and housewifely.
+
+An old lady from Paisley, a Mrs. Lawson, whom I promised to call for
+in Paisley--like old lady W----, and still more like Mrs. C----, her
+conversation is pregnant with strong sense and just remark, but like
+them, a certain air of self-importance and a _duresse_ in the eye,
+seem to indicate, as the Ayrshire wife observed of her cow, that "she
+had a mind o' her ain."
+
+Pleasant view of Dunfermline and the rest of the fertile coast of
+Fife, as we go down to that dirty, ugly place, Borrowstones--see a
+horse-race and call on a friend of Mr. Nicol's, a Bailie Cowan, of
+whom I know too little to attempt his portrait--Come through the rich
+carse of Falkirk to pass the night. Falkirk nothing remarkable except
+the tomb of Sir John the Graham, over which, in the succession of
+time, four stones have been placed.--Camelon, the ancient metropolis
+of the Picts, now a small village in the neighbourhood of
+Falkirk.--Cross the grand canal to Carron.--Come past Larbert and
+admire a fine monument of cast-iron erected by Mr. Bruce, the African
+traveller, to his wife.
+
+Pass Dunipace, a place laid out with fine taste--a charming
+amphitheatre bounded by Denny village, and pleasant seats down the way
+to Dunnipace.--The Carron running down the bosom of the whole makes it
+one of the most charming little prospects I have seen.
+
+Dine at Auchinbowie--Mr. Monro an excellent, worthy old man--Miss
+Monro an amiable, sensible, sweet young woman, much resembling Mrs.
+Grierson. Come to Bannockburn--Shown the old house where James III.
+finished so tragically his unfortunate life. The field of
+Bannockburn--the hole where glorious Bruce set his standard. Here no
+Scot can pass uninterested.--I fancy to myself that I see my gallant,
+heroic countrymen coming o'er the hill and down upon the plunderers of
+their country, the murderers of their fathers; noble revenge, and just
+hate, glowing in every vein, striding more and more eagerly as they
+approach the oppressive, insulting, blood-thirsty foe! I see them meet
+in gloriously triumphant congratulation on the victorious field,
+exulting in their heroic royal leader, and rescued liberty and
+independence! Come to Stirling.--_Monday_ go to Harvieston. Go to see
+Caudron linn, and Rumbling brig, and Diel's mill. Return in the
+evening. Supper--Messrs. Doig, the schoolmaster; Bell; and Captain
+Forrester of the castle--Doig a queerish figure, and something of a
+pedant--Bell a joyous fellow, who sings a good song.--Forrester a
+merry, swearing kind of man, with a dash of the sodger.
+
+_Tuesday Morning._--Breakfast with Captain Forrester--Ochel
+Hills--Devon River--Forth and Tieth--Allan River--Strathallan, a fine
+country, but little improved--Cross Earn to Crieff--Dine and go to
+Arbruchil--cold reception at Arbruchil--a most romantically pleasant
+ride up Earn, by Auchtertyre and Comrie to Arbruchil--Sup at Crieff.
+
+_Wednesday Morning._--Leave Crieff--Glen Amond--Amond river--Ossian's
+grave--Loch Fruoch--Glenquaich--Landlord and landlady remarkable
+characters--Taymouth described in rhyme--Meet the Hon. Charles
+Townshend.
+
+_Thursday._--Come down Tay to Dunkeld--Glenlyon House--Lyon
+River--Druid's Temple--three circles of stones--the outer-most
+sunk--the second has thirteen stones remaining--the innermost has
+eight--two large detached ones like a gate, to the south-east--Say
+prayers in it--Pass Taybridge--Aberfeldy--described in rhyme--Castle
+Menzies--Inver--Dr. Stewart--sup.
+
+_Friday._--Walk with Mrs. Stewart and Beard to Birnam top--fine
+prospect down Tay--Craigieburn hills--Hermitage on the Branwater, with
+a picture of Ossian--Breakfast with Dr. Stewart--Neil Gow[298] plays--a
+short, stout-built, honest Highland figure, with his grayish hair shed
+on his honest social brow--an interesting face, marking strong sense,
+kind openheartedness, mixed with unmistrusting simplicity--visit his
+house--Marget Gow.
+
+Ride up Tummel River to Blair--Fascally a beautiful romantic
+nest--wild grandeur of the pass of Gilliecrankie--visit the gallant
+Lord Dundee's stone.
+
+Blair--Sup with the Duchess--easy and happy from the manners of the
+family--confirmed in my good opinion of my friend Walker.
+
+_Saturday._--Visit the scenes round Blair--fine, but spoiled with bad
+taste--Tilt and Gairie rivers--Falls on the Tilt--Heather seat--Ride
+in company with Sir William Murray and Mr. Walker, to Loch
+Tummel--meanderings of the Rannach, which runs through quondam Struan
+Robertson's estate from Loch Rannach to Loch Tummel--Dine at
+Blair--Company--General Murray--Captain Murray, an honest tar--Sir
+William Murray, an honest, worthy man, but tormented with the
+hypochondria--Mrs. Graham, _belle et aimable_--Miss Catchcart--Mrs.
+Murray, a painter--Mrs. King--Duchess and fine family, the Marquis,
+Lords James, Edward, and Robert--Ladies Charlotte, Emilia, and
+children dance--Sup--Mr. Graham of Fintray.
+
+Come up the Garrie--Falls of
+Bruar--Daldecairoch--Dalwhinnie--Dine--Snow on the hills 17 feet
+deep--No corn from Loch-Gairie to Dalwhinnie--Cross the Spey, and come
+down the stream to Pitnin--Straths rich--_les environs_
+picturesque--Craigow hill--Ruthven of Badenoch--Barracks--wild and
+magnificent--Rothemurche on the other side, and Glenmore--Grant of
+Rothemurche's poetry--told me by the Duke of Gordon--Strathspey, rich
+and romantic--Breakfast at Aviemore, a wild spot--dine at Sir James
+Grant's--Lady Grant, a sweet, pleasant body--come through mist and
+darkness to Dulsie, to lie.
+
+_Tuesday._--Findhorn river--rocky banks--come on to Castle Cawdor,
+where Macbeth murdered King Duncan--saw the bed in which King Duncan
+was stabbed--dine at Kilravock--Mrs. Rose, sen., a true chieftain's
+wife--Fort George--Inverness.
+
+_Wednesday._--Loch Ness--Braes of Ness--General's hut--Falls of
+Fyers--Urquhart Castle and Strath.
+
+_Thursday._--Come over Culloden Muir--reflections on the field of
+battle--breakfast at Kilravock--old Mrs. Rose, sterling sense, warm
+heart, strong passions, and honest pride, all in an uncommon
+degree--Mrs. Rose, jun., a little milder than the mother--this perhaps
+owing to her being younger--Mr. Grant, minister at Calder, resembles
+Mr. Scott at Inverleithing--Mrs. Rose and Mrs. Grant accompany us to
+Kildrummie--two young ladies--Miss Rose, who sung two Gaelic songs,
+beautiful and lovely--Miss Sophia Brodie, most agreeable and
+amiable--both of them gentle, mild; the sweetest creatures on earth,
+and happiness be with them!--Dine at Nairn--fall in with a pleasant
+enough gentleman, Dr. Stewart, who had been long abroad with his
+father in the forty-five; and Mr. Falconer, a spare, irascible,
+warm-hearted Norland, and a nonjuror--Brodie-house to lie.
+
+_Friday_--Forres--famous stone at Forres--Mr. Brodie tells me that the
+muir where Shakspeare lays Macbeth's witch-meeting is still
+haunted--that the country folks won't pass it by night.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Venerable ruins of Elgin Abbey--A grander effect at first glance than
+Melrose, but not near so beautiful--Cross Spey to Fochabers--fine
+palace, worthy of the generous proprietor--Dine--company, Duke and
+Duchess, Ladies Charlotte and Magdeline, Col. Abercrombie, and Lady,
+Mr. Gordon and Mr.----, a clergyman, a venerable, aged figure--the
+Duke makes me happier than ever great man did--noble, princely; yet
+mild, condescending, and affable; gay and kind--the Duchess witty and
+sensible--God bless them!
+
+Come to Cullen to lie--hitherto the country is sadly poor and
+unimproven.
+
+Come to Aberdeen--meet with Mr. Chalmers, printer, a facetious
+fellow--Mr. Ross a fine fellow, like Professor Tytler,--Mr. Marshal one
+of the _poetae minores_--Mr. Sheriffs, author of "Jamie and Bess," a
+little decrepid body with some abilities--Bishop Skinner, a nonjuror,
+son of the author of "Tullochgorum," a man whose mild, venerable manner
+is the most marked of any in so young a man--Professor Gordon, a
+good-natured, jolly-looking professor--Aberdeen, a lazy town--near
+Stonhive, the coast a good deal romantic--meet my relations--Robert
+Burns, writer, in Stonhive, one of those who love fun, a gill, and a
+punning joke, and have not a bad heart--his wife a sweet hospitable
+body, without any affectation of what is called town-breeding.
+
+_Tuesday._--Breakfast with Mr. Burns--lie at Lawrence Kirk--Album
+library--Mrs. ---- a jolly, frank, sensible, love-inspiring widow--Howe
+of the Mearns, a rich, cultivated, but still unenclosed country.
+
+_Wednesday._--Cross North Esk river and a rich country to Craigow.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Go to Montrose, that finely-situated handsome town--breakfast at Muthie,
+and sail along that wild rocky coast, and see the famous caverns,
+particularly the Gariepot--land and dine at Arbroath--stately ruins of
+Arbroath Abbey--come to Dundee through a fertile country--Dundee a
+low-lying, but pleasant town--old Steeple--Tayfrith--Broughty Castle, a
+finely situated ruin, jutting into the Tay.
+
+_Friday._--Breakfast with the Miss Scotts--Miss Bess Scott like Mrs.
+Greenfield--my bardship almost in love with her--come through the rich
+harvests and fine hedge-rows of the Carse of Gowrie, along the
+romantic margin of the Grampian hills, to Perth--fine, fruitful,
+hilly, woody country round Perth.
+
+_Saturday Morning._--Leave Perth--come up Strathearn to
+Endermay--fine, fruitful, cultivated Strath--the scene of "Bessy Bell,
+and Mary Gray," near Perth--fine scenery on the banks of the May--Mrs.
+Belcher, gawcie, frank, affable, fond of rural sports, hunting,
+&c.--Lie at Kinross--reflections in a fit of the colic.
+
+_Sunday._--Pass through a cold, barren country to
+Queensferry--dine--cross the ferry and on to Edinburgh.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 298: Another northern bard has sketched this eminent
+musician--
+
+    "The blythe Strathspey springs up, reminding some
+    Of nights when Gow's old arm, (nor old the tale,)
+    Unceasing, save when reeking cans went round,
+    Made heart and heel leap light as bounding roe.
+    Alas! no more shall we behold that look
+    So venerable, yet so blent with mirth,
+    And festive joy sedate; that ancient garb
+    Unvaried,--tartan hose, and bonnet blue!
+    No more shall Beauty's partial eye draw forth
+    The full intoxication of his strain.
+    Mellifluous, strong, exuberantly rich!
+    No more, amid the pauses of the dance,
+    Shall he repeat those measures, that in days
+    Of other years, could soothe a falling prince,
+    And light his visage with a transient smile
+    Of melancholy joy,--like autumn sun
+    Gilding a sear tree with a passing beam!
+    Or play to sportive children on the green
+    Dancing at gloamin hour; or willing cheer
+    With strains unbought, the shepherd's bridal day."
+
+_British Georgics, p._ 81]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+THE POET'S ASSIGNMENT OF HIS WORKS.
+
+
+Know all men by these presents that I Robert Burns of Mossgiel:
+whereas I intend to leave Scotland and go abroad, and having
+acknowledged myself the father of a child named Elizabeth, begot upon
+Elizabeth Paton in Largieside: and whereas Gilbert Burns in Mossgiel,
+my brother, has become bound, and hereby binds and obliges himself to
+aliment, clothe, and educate my said natural child in a suitable
+manner as if she was his own, in case her mother chuse to part with
+her, and that until she arrive at the age of fifteen years. Therefore,
+and to enable the said Gilbert Burns to make good his said engagement,
+wit ye me to have assigned, disponed, conveyed and made over to, and
+in favours of, the said Gilbert Burns, his heirs, executors, and
+assignees, who are always to be bound in like manner, with, himself,
+all and sundry goods, gear, corns, cattle, horses, nolt, sheep,
+household furniture, and all other moveable effects of whatever kind
+that I shall leave behind me on my departure from this Kingdom, after
+allowing for my part of the conjunct debts due by the said Gilbert
+Burns and me as joint tacksmen of the farm of Mossgiel. And
+particularly without prejudice of the foresaid generality, the profits
+that may arise from the publication of my poems presently in the
+press. And also, I hereby dispone and convey to him in trust for
+behoof of my said natural daughter, the copyright of said poems in so
+far as I can dispose of the same by law, after she arrives at the
+above age of fifteen years complete. Surrogating and substituting the
+said Gilbert Burns my brother and his foresaids in my full right,
+title, room and place of the whole premises, with power to him to
+intromit with, and dispose upon the same at pleasure, and in general
+to do every other thing in the premises that I could have done myself
+before granting hereof, but always with and under the conditions
+before expressed. And I oblige myself to warrant this disposition and
+assignation from my own proper fact and deed allenarly. Consenting to
+the registration hereof in the books of Council and Session, or any
+other Judges books competent, therein to remain for preservation and
+constitute.
+
+Proculars, &c. In witness whereof I have wrote and signed these
+presents, consisting of this and the preceding page, on stamped paper,
+with my own hand, at the Mossgiel, the twenty-second day of July, one
+thousand seven hundred and eighty-six years.
+
+(Signed) ROBERT BURNS.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Upon the twenty-fourth day of July, one thousand seven hundred and
+eighty-six years, I, William Chalmer, Notary Publick, past to the
+Mercat Cross of Ayr head Burgh of the Sheriffdome thereof, and thereat
+I made due and lawful intimation of the foregoing disposition and
+assignation to his Majesties lieges, that they might not pretend
+ignorance thereof by reading the same over in presence of a number of
+people assembled. Whereupon William Crooks, writer, in Ayr, as
+attorney for the before designed Gilbert Burns, protested that the
+same was lawfully intimated, and asked and took instruments in my
+hands. These things were done betwixt the hours of ten and eleven
+forenoon, before and in presence of William M'Cubbin, and William
+Eaton, apprentices to the Sheriff Clerk of Ayr, witnesses to the
+premises.
+
+(Signed)
+
+WILLIAM CHALMER, N.P.
+
+WILLIAM M'CUBBIN, Witness.
+
+WILLIAM EATON, Witness.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+GLOSSARY.
+
+
+"The _ch_ and _gh_ have always the guttural sound. The sound of the
+English diphthong _oo_ is commonly spelled _ou._ The French _u_, a
+sound which often occurs in the Scottish language, is marked _oo_ or
+_ui._ The _a_, in genuine Scottish words, except when forming a
+diphthong, or followed by an _e_ mute after a single consonant, sounds
+generally like the broad English _a_ in _wall._ The Scottish diphthong
+_ae_ always, and _ea_ very often, sound like the French _e_ masculine.
+The Scottish diphthong _ey_ sounds like the Latin _ei._"
+
+A.
+
+_A'_, all.
+
+_Aback_, away, aloof, backwards.
+
+_Abeigh_, at a shy distance.
+
+_Aboon_, above, up.
+
+_Abread_, abroad, in sight, to publish.
+
+_Abreed_, in breadth.
+
+_Ae_, one.
+
+_Aff_, off.
+
+_Aff-loof_, off-hand, extempore, without premeditation.
+
+_Afore_, before.
+
+_Aft_, oft.
+
+_Aften_, often.
+
+_Agley_, off the right line, wrong, awry.
+
+_Aiblins_, perhaps.
+
+_Ain_, own.
+
+_Airn_, iron, a tool of that metal, a mason's chisel.
+
+_Airles_, earnest money.
+
+_Airl-penny_, a silver penny given as erles or hiring money.
+
+_Airt_, quarter of the heaven, point of the compass.
+
+_Agee_, on one side.
+
+_Attour_, moreover, beyond, besides.
+
+_Aith_, an oath.
+
+_Aits_, oats.
+
+_Aiver_, an old horse.
+
+_Aizle_, a hot cinder, an ember of wood.
+
+_Alake_, alas.
+
+_Alane_, alone.
+
+_Akwart_, awkward, athwart.
+
+_Amaist_, almost.
+
+_Amang_, among.
+
+_An'_, and, if.
+
+_Ance_, once
+
+_Ane_, one.
+
+_Anent_, over-against, concerning, about.
+
+_Anither_, another.
+
+_Ase_, ashes of wood, remains of a hearth fire.
+
+_Asteer_, abroad, stirring in a lively manner.
+
+_Aqueesh_, between.
+
+_Aught_, possession, as "in a' my aught," in all my possession.
+
+_Auld_, old.
+
+_Auld-farran'_, auld farrant, sagacious, prudent, cunning.
+
+_Ava_, at all.
+
+_Awa_, away, begone.
+
+_Awfu'_, awful.
+
+_Auld-shoon_, old shoes literally, a discarded lover metaphorically.
+
+_Aumos_, gift to a beggar.
+
+_Aumos-dish_, a beggar's dish in which the aumos is received.
+
+_Awn_, the beard of barley, oats, &c.
+
+_Awnie_, bearded.
+
+_Ayont_, beyond.
+
+
+B.
+
+_Ba'_, ball.
+
+_Babie-clouts_, child's first clothes.
+
+_Backets_, ash-boards, as pieces of backet for removing ashes.
+
+_Backlins_, comin', coming back, returning.
+
+_Back-yett_, private gate.
+
+_Baide_, endured, did stay.
+
+_Baggie_, the belly.
+
+_Bairn_, a child.
+
+_Bairn-time_, a family of children, a brood.
+
+_Baith_, both.
+
+_Ballets_, _Ballants_, ballads.
+
+_Ban_, to swear.
+
+_Bane_, bone.
+
+_Bang_, to beat, to strive, to excel.
+
+_Bannock_, flat, round, soft cake.
+
+_Bardie_, diminutive of bard.
+
+_Barefit_, barefooted.
+
+_Barley-bree_, barley-broo, blood of barley, malt liquor.
+
+_Barmie_, of, or like barm, yeasty.
+
+_Batch_, a crew, a gang.
+
+_Batts_, botts.
+
+_Bauckie-bird_, the bat.
+
+_Baudrons_, a cat.
+
+_Bauld_, bold.
+
+_Baws'nt_, having a white stripe down the face.
+
+_Be_, to let be, to give over, to cease.
+
+_Beets_, boots.
+
+_Bear_, barley.
+
+_Bearded-bear_, barley with its bristly head.
+
+_Beastie_, diminutive of beast.
+
+_Beet_, _beek_, to add fuel to a fire, to bask.
+
+_Beld_, bald.
+
+_Belyve_, by and by, presently, quickly.
+
+_Ben_, into the spence or parlour.
+
+_Benmost-bore_, the remotest hole, the innermost recess.
+
+_Bethankit_, grace after meat.
+
+_Beuk_, a book.
+
+_Bicker_, a kind of wooden dish, a short rapid race.
+
+_Bickering_, careering, hurrying with quarrelsome intent.
+
+_Birnie_, birnie ground is where thick heath has been burnt, leaving
+          the birns, or unconsumed stalks, standing up sharp and stubley.
+
+_Bie_, or _bield_, shelter, a sheltered place, the sunny nook of a wood.
+
+_Bien_, wealthy, plentiful.
+
+_Big_, to build.
+
+_Biggin_, building, a house.
+
+_Biggit_, built.
+
+_Bill_, a bull.
+
+_Billie_, a brother, a young fellow, a companion.
+
+_Bing_, a heap of grain, potatoes, &c.
+
+_Birdie-cocks_, young cocks, still belonging to the brood.
+
+_Birk_, birch.
+
+_Birkie_, a clever, a forward conceited fellow.
+
+_Birring_, the noise of partridges when they rise.
+
+_Birses_, bristles.
+
+_Bit_, crisis, nick of time, place.
+
+_Bizz_, a bustle, to buzz.
+
+_Black's the grun'_, as black as the ground.
+
+_Blastie_, a shrivelled dwarf, a term of contempt, full of mischief.
+
+_Blastit_, blasted.
+
+_Blate_, bashful, sheepish.
+
+_Blather_, bladder.
+
+_Blaud_, a flat piece of anything, to slap.
+
+_Blaudin-shower_, a heavy driving rain; a blauding signifies a beating.
+
+_Blaw_, to blow, to boast; "blaw i' my lug," to flatter.
+
+_Bleerit_, bedimmed, eyes hurt with weeping.
+
+_Bleer my een_, dim my eyes.
+
+_Bleezing_, _bleeze_, blazing, flame.
+
+_Blellum_, idle talking fellow.
+
+_Blether_, to talk idly.
+
+_Bleth'rin_, talking idly.
+
+_Blink_, a little while, a smiling look, to look kindly, to shine by fits.
+
+_Blinker_, a term of contempt: it means, too, a lively engaging girl.
+
+_Blinkin'_, smirking, smiling with the eyes, looking lovingly.
+
+_Blirt and blearie_, out-burst of grief, with wet eyes.
+
+_Blue-gown_, one of those beggars who get annually, on the king's
+             birth-day, a blue cloak or gown with a badge.
+
+_Bluid_, blood.
+
+_Blype_, a shred, a large piece.
+
+_Bobbit_, the obeisance made by a lady.
+
+_Bock_, to vomit, to gush intermittently.
+
+_Bocked_, gushed, vomited.
+
+_Bodle_, a copper coin of the value of two pennies Scots.
+
+_Bogie_, a small morass.
+
+_Bonnie_, or _bonny_, handsome, beautiful.
+
+_Bonnock_, a kind of thick cake of bread, a small jannock or loaf made
+           of oatmeal. See _Bannock._
+
+_Boord_, a board.
+
+_Bore_, a hole in the wall, a cranny.
+
+_Boortree_, the shrub elder, planted much of old in hedges of barn-yards
+            and gardens.
+
+_Boost_, behoved, must needs, wilfulness.
+
+_Botch_, _blotch_, an angry tumour.
+
+_Bousing_, drinking, making merry with liquor.
+
+_Bowk_, body.
+
+_Bow-kail_, cabbage.
+
+_Bow-hought_, out-kneed, crooked at the knee joint.
+
+_Bowt_, _bowlt_, bended, crooked.
+
+_Brackens_, fern.
+
+_Brae_, a declivity, a precipice, the slope of a hill.
+
+_Braid_, broad.
+
+_Braik_, an instrument for rough-dressing flax.
+
+_Brainge_, to run rashly forward, to churn violently.
+
+_Braing't_, "the horse braing't," plunged end fretted in the harness.
+
+_Brak_, broke, became insolvent.
+
+_Branks_, a kind of wooden curb for horses.
+
+_Brankie_, gaudy.
+
+_Brash_, a sudden illness.
+
+_Brats_, coarse clothes, rags, &c.
+
+_Brattle_, a short race, hurry, fury.
+
+_Braw_, fine, handsome.
+
+_Brawlys_, or _brawlie_, very well, finely, heartily, bravely.
+
+_Braxies_, diseased sheep.
+
+_Breastie_, diminutive of breast.
+
+_Breastit_, did spring up or forward; the act of mounting a horse.
+
+_Brechame_, a horse-collar.
+
+_Breckens_, fern.
+
+_Breef_, an invulnerable or irresistible spell.
+
+_Breeks_, breeches.
+
+_Brent_, bright, clear; "a brent brow," a brow high and smooth.
+
+_Brewin'_, brewing, gathering.
+
+_Bree_, juice, liquid.
+
+_Brig_, a bridge.
+
+_Brunstane_, brimstone.
+
+_Brisket_, the breast, the bosom.
+
+_Brither_, a brother.
+
+_Brock_, a badger.
+
+_Brogue_, a hum, a trick.
+
+_Broo_, broth, liquid, water.
+
+_Broose_, broth, a race at country weddings; he who first reaches the
+          bridegroom's house on returning from church wins the broose.
+
+_Browst_, ale, as much malt liquor as is brewed at a time.
+
+_Brugh_, a burgh.
+
+_Bruilsie_, a broil, combustion.
+
+_Brunt_, did burn, burnt.
+
+_Brust_, to burst, burst.
+
+_Buchan-bullers_, the boiling of the sea among the rocks on the coast
+                  of Buchan.
+
+_Buckskin_, an inhabitant of Virginia.
+
+_Buff our beef_, thrash us soundly, give us a beating behind and before.
+
+_Buff and blue_, the colours of the Whigs.
+
+_Buirdly_, stout made, broad built.
+
+_Bum-clock_, the humming beetle that flies in the summer evenings.
+
+_Bummin_, humming as bees, buzzing.
+
+_Bummle_, to blunder, a drone, an idle fellow.
+
+_Bummler_, a blunderer, one whose noise is greater than his work.
+
+_Bunker_, a window-seat.
+
+_Bure_, did bear.
+
+_Burn_, _burnie_, water, a rivulet, a small stream which is heard as it
+                  runs.
+
+_Burniewin'_, burn this wind, the blacksmith.
+
+_Burr-thistle_, the thistle of Scotland.
+
+_Buskit_, dressed.
+
+_Buskit-nest_, an ornamented residence.
+
+_Busle_, a bustle.
+
+_But_, _bot_, without.
+
+_But and ben_, the country kitchen and parlour.
+
+_By himself_, lunatic, distracted, beside himself.
+
+_Byke_, a bee-hive, a wild bee-nest.
+
+_Byre_, a cow-house, a sheep-pen.
+
+
+C.
+
+_Ca'_, to call, to name, to drive.
+
+_Ca't_, called, driven, calved.
+
+_Cadger_, a carrier.
+
+_Cadie_ or _caddie_, a person, a young fellow, a public messenger.
+
+_Caff_, chaff.
+
+_Caird_, a tinker, a maker of horn spoons and teller of fortunes.
+
+_Cairn_, a loose heap of stones, a rustic monument.
+
+_Calf-ward_, a small enclosure for calves.
+
+_Calimanco_, a certain kind of cotton cloth worn by ladies.
+
+_Callan_, a boy.
+
+_Caller_, fresh.
+
+_Callet_, a loose woman, a follower of a camp.
+
+_Cannie_, gentle, mild, dexterous.
+
+_Cannilie_, dexterously, gently.
+
+_Cantie_, or _canty_, cheerful, merry.
+
+_Cantraip_, a charm, a spell.
+
+_Cap-stane_, cape-stone, topmost stone of the building.
+
+_Car_, a rustic cart with or without wheels.
+
+_Careerin'_, moving cheerfully.
+
+_Castock_, the stalk of a cabbage.
+
+_Carl_, an old man.
+
+_Carl-hemp_, the male stalk of hemp, easily known by its superior strength
+             and stature, and being without seed.
+
+_Carlin_, a stout old woman.
+
+_Cartes_, cards.
+
+_Caudron_, a cauldron.
+
+_Cauk and keel_, chalk and red clay.
+
+_Cauld_, cold.
+
+_Caup_, a wooden drinking vessel, a cup.
+
+_Cavie_, a hen-coop.
+
+_Chanter_, drone of a bagpipe.
+
+_Chap_, a person, a fellow.
+
+_Chaup_, a stroke, a blow.
+
+_Cheek for chow_, close and united, brotherly, side by side.
+
+_Cheekit_, cheeked.
+
+_Cheep_, a chirp, to chirp.
+
+_Chiel_, or _cheal_, a young fellow.
+
+_Chimla_, or _chimlie_, a fire-grate, fire-place.
+
+_Chimla-lug_, the fire-side.
+
+_Chirps_, cries of a young bird.
+
+_Chittering_, shivering, trembling.
+
+_Chockin_, choking.
+
+_Chow_, to chew; a quid of tobacco.
+
+_Chuckie_, a brood-hen.
+
+_Chuffie_, fat-faced.
+
+_Clachan_, a small village about a church, a hamlet.
+
+_Claise_, or _claes_, clothes.
+
+_Claith_, cloth.
+
+_Claithing_, clothing.
+
+_Clavers and havers_, agreeable nonsense, to talk foolishly.
+
+_Clapper-claps_, the clapper of a mill; it is now silenced.
+
+_Clap-clack_, clapper of a mill.
+
+_Clartie_, dirty, filthy.
+
+_Clarkit_, wrote.
+
+_Clash_, an idle tale.
+
+_Clatter_, to tell little idle stories, an idle story.
+
+_Claught_, snatched at, laid hold of.
+
+_Claut_, to clean, to scrape.
+
+_Clauted_, scraped.
+
+_Claw_, to scratch.
+
+_Cleed_, to clothe.
+
+_Cleek_, hook, snatch.
+
+_Cleekin_, a brood of chickens, or ducks.
+
+_Clegs_, the gad flies.
+
+_Clinkin_, "clinking down," sitting down hastily.
+
+_Clinkumbell_, the church bell; he who rings it; a sort of beadle.
+
+_Clips_, wool-shears.
+
+_Clishmaclaver_, idle conversation.
+
+_Clock_, to hatch, a beetle.
+
+_Clockin_, hatching.
+
+_Cloot_, the hoof of a cow, sheep, &c.
+
+_Clootie_, a familiar name for the devil.
+
+_Clour_, a bump, or swelling, after a blow.
+
+_Cloutin_, repairing with cloth.
+
+_Cluds_, clouds.
+
+_Clunk_, the sound in setting down an empty bottle.
+
+_Coaxin_, wheedling.
+
+_Coble_, a fishing-boat.
+
+_Cod_, a pillow.
+
+_Coft_, bought.
+
+_Cog_, and _coggie_, a wooden dish.
+
+_Coila_, from Kyle, a district in Ayrshire, so called, saith tradition,
+         from Coil, or Coilus, a Pictish monarch.
+
+_Collie_, a general, and sometimes a particular name for country curs.
+
+_Collie-shangie_, a quarrel among dogs, an Irish row.
+
+_Commaun_, command.
+
+_Convoyed_, accompanied lovingly.
+
+_Cool'd in her linens_, cool'd in her death-shift.
+
+_Cood_, the cud.
+
+_Coof_, a blockhead, a ninny.
+
+_Cookit_, appeared and disappeared by fits.
+
+_Cooser_, a stallion.
+
+_Coost_, did cast.
+
+_Coot_, the ankle, a species of water-fowl.
+
+_Corbies_, blood crows.
+
+_Cootie_, a wooden dish, rough-legged.
+
+_Core_, corps, party, clan.
+
+_Corn't_, fed with oats.
+
+_Cotter_, the inhabitant of a cot-house, or cottage.
+
+_Couthie_, kind, loving.
+
+_Cove_, a cave.
+
+_Cowe_, to terrify, to keep under, to lop.
+
+_Cowp_, to barter, to tumble over.
+
+_Cowp the cran_, to tumble a full bucket or basket.
+
+_Cowpit_, tumbled.
+
+_Cowrin_, cowering.
+
+_Cowte_, a colt.
+
+_Cosie_, snug.
+
+_Crabbit_, crabbed, fretful.
+
+_Creuks_, a disease of horses.
+
+_Crack_, conversation, to converse, to boast.
+
+_Crackin'_, cracked, conversing, conversed.
+
+_Craft_, or _croft_, a field near a house, in old husbandry.
+
+_Craig_, _craigie_, neck.
+
+_Craiks_, cries or calls incessantly, a bird, the corn-rail.
+
+_Crambo-clink_, or _crambo-jingle_, rhymes, doggerel verses.
+
+_Crank_, the noise of an ungreased wheel--metaphorically inharmonious
+         verse.
+
+_Crankous_, fretful, captious.
+
+_Cranreuch_, the hoar-frost, called in Nithsdale "frost-rhyme."
+
+_Crap_, a crop, to crop.
+
+_Craw_, a crow of a cock, a rook.
+
+_Creel_, a basket, to have one's wits in a creel, to be crazed, to be
+         fascinated.
+
+_Creshie_, greasy.
+
+_Crood_, or _Croud_, to coo as a dove.
+
+_Croon_, a hollow and continued moan; to make a noise like the low roar
+         of a bull; to hum a tune.
+
+_Crooning_, humming.
+
+_Crouchie_, crook-backed.
+
+_Crouse_, cheerful, courageous.
+
+_Crously_, cheerfully, courageously.
+
+_Crowdie_, a composition of oatmeal, boiled water and butter; sometimes
+           made from the broth of beef, mutton, &c. &c.
+
+_Crowdie time_, breakfast time.
+
+_Crowlin_, crawling, a deformed creeping thing.
+
+_Crummie's nicks_, marks on the horns of a cow.
+
+_Crummock_, _Crummet_, a cow with crooked horns.
+
+_Crummock driddle_, walk slowly, leaning on a staff with a crooked head.
+
+_Crump-crumpin_, hard and brittle, spoken of bread; frozen snow yielding
+                 to the foot.
+
+_Crunt_, a blow on the head with a cudgel.
+
+_Cuddle_, to clasp and caress.
+
+_Cummock_, a short staff, with a crooked head.
+
+_Curch_, a covering for the head, a kerchief.
+
+_Curchie_, a curtesy, female obeisance.
+
+_Curler_, a player at a game on the ice, practised in Scotland, called
+          curling.
+
+_Curlie_, curled, whose hair falls naturally in ringlets.
+
+_Curling_, a well-known game on the ice.
+
+_Curmurring_, murmuring, a slight rumbling noise.
+
+_Curpin_, the crupper, the rump.
+
+_Curple_, the rear.
+
+_Cushat_, the dove, or wood-pigeon.
+
+_Cutty_, short, a spoon broken in the middle.
+
+_Cutty Stool_, or, _Creepie Chair_, the seat of shame, stool of repentance.
+
+
+D.
+
+_Daddie_, a father.
+
+_Daffin_, merriment, foolishness.
+
+_Daft_, merry, giddy, foolish; _Daft-buckie_, mad fish.
+
+_Daimen_, rare, now and then; _Daimen icker_, an ear of corn occasionally.
+
+_Dainty_, pleasant, good-humored, agreeable, rare.
+
+_Dandered_, wandered.
+
+_Darklins_, darkling, without light.
+
+_Daud_, to thrash, to abuse; _Daudin-showers_, rain urged by wind.
+
+_Daur_, to dare; _Daurt_, dared.
+
+_Daurg_, or _Daurk_, a day's labour.
+
+_Daur_, _daurna_, dare, dare not.
+
+_Davoc_, diminutive of Davie, as Davie is of David.
+
+_Dawd_, a large piece.
+
+_Dawin_, dawning of the day.
+
+_Dawtit_, _dawtet_, fondled, caressed.
+
+_Dearies_, diminutive of dears, sweethearts.
+
+_Dearthfu'_, dear, expensive.
+
+_Deave_, to deafen.
+
+_Deil-ma-care_, no matter for all that.
+
+_Deleerit_, delirious.
+
+_Descrive_, to describe, to perceive.
+
+_Deuks_, ducks.
+
+_Dight_, to wipe, to clean corn from chaff.
+
+_Ding_, to worst, to push, to surpass, to excel.
+
+_Dink_, neat, lady-like.
+
+_Dinna_, do not.
+
+_Dirl_, a slight tremulous stroke or pain, a tremulous motion.
+
+_Distain_, stain.
+
+_Dizzen_, a dozen.
+
+_Dochter_, daughter.
+
+_Doited_, stupefied, silly from age.
+
+_Dolt_, stupefied, crazed; also a fool.
+
+_Donsie_, unlucky, affectedly neat and trim, pettish.
+
+_Doodle_, to dandle.
+
+_Dool_, sorrow, to lament, to mourn.
+
+_Doos_, doves, pigeons.
+
+_Dorty_, saucy, nice.
+
+_Douse_, or _douce_, sober, wise, prudent.
+
+_Doucely_, soberly, prudently.
+
+_Dought_, was or were able.
+
+_Doup_, backside.
+
+_Doup-skelper_, one that strikes the tail.
+
+_Dour and din_, sullen and sallow
+
+_Douser_, more prudent.
+
+_Dow_, am or are able, can.
+
+_Dowff_, pithless, wanting force.
+
+_Dowie_, worn with grief, fatigue, &c., half asleep.
+
+_Downa_, am or are not able, cannot.
+
+_Doylt_, wearied, exhausted.
+
+_Dozen_, stupified, the effects of age, to dozen, to benumb.
+
+_Drab_, a young female beggar; to spot, to stain.
+
+_Drap_, a drop, to drop.
+
+_Drapping_, dropping.
+
+_Draunting_, drawling, speaking with a sectarian tone.
+
+_Dreep_, to ooze, to drop.
+
+_Dreigh_, tedious, long about it, lingering.
+
+_Dribble_, drizzling, trickling.
+
+_Driddle_, the motion of one who tries to dance but moves the middle only.
+
+_Drift_, a drove, a flight of fowls, snow moved by the wind.
+
+_Droddum_, the breech.
+
+_Drone_, part of a bagpipe, the chanter.
+
+_Droop rumpl't_, that droops at the crupper.
+
+_Droukit_, wet.
+
+_Drouth_, thirst, drought.
+
+_Drucken_, drunken.
+
+_Drumly_, muddy.
+
+_Drummock_ or _Drammock_, meal and water mixed, raw.
+
+_Drunt_, pet, sour humour.
+
+_Dub_, a small pond, a hollow filled with rain water.
+
+_Duds_, rags, clothes.
+
+_Duddie_, ragged.
+
+_Dung-dang_, worsted, pushed, stricken.
+
+_Dunted_, throbbed, beaten.
+
+_Dush-dunsh_, to push, or butt as a ram.
+
+_Dusht_, overcome with superstitious fear, to drop down suddenly.
+
+_Dyvor_, bankrupt, or about to become one.
+
+
+E.
+
+_E'e_, the eye.
+
+_Een_, the eyes, the evening.
+
+_Eebree_, the eyebrow.
+
+_Eenin'_, the evening.
+
+_Eerie_, frighted, haunted, dreading spirits.
+
+_Eild_, old age.
+
+_Elbuck_, the elbow.
+
+_Eldritch_, ghastly, frightful, elvish.
+
+_En'_, end.
+
+_Enbrugh_, Edinburgh.
+
+_Eneugh_, and _aneuch_, enough.
+
+_Especial_, especially.
+
+_Ether-stone_, stone formed by adders, an adder bead.
+
+_Ettle_, to try, attempt, aim.
+
+_Eydent_, diligent.
+
+
+F.
+
+_Fa'_, fall, lot, to fall, fate.
+
+_Fa' that_, to enjoy, to try, to inherit.
+
+_Faddom't_, fathomed, measured with the extended arms.
+
+_Faes_, foes.
+
+_Faem_, foam of the sea.
+
+_Faiket_, forgiven or excused, abated, a demand.
+
+_Fainness_, gladness, overcome with joy.
+
+_Fairin'_, fairing, a present brought from a fair.
+
+_Fallow_, fellow.
+
+_Fand_, did find.
+
+_Farl_, a cake of bread; third part of a cake.
+
+_Fash_, trouble, care, to trouble, to care for.
+
+_Fasheous_, troublesome.
+
+_Fasht_, troubled.
+
+_Fasten e'en_, Fasten's even.
+
+_Faught_, fight.
+
+_Faugh_, a single furrow, out of lea, fallow.
+
+_Fauld_, and _Fald_, a fold for sheep, to fold.
+
+_Faut_, fault.
+
+_Fawsont_, decent, seemly.
+
+_Feal_, loyal, steadfast.
+
+_Fearfu'_, fearful, frightful.
+
+_Fear't_, affrighted.
+
+_Feat_, neat, spruce, clever.
+
+_Fecht_, to fight.
+
+_Fechtin'_, fighting.
+
+_Feck_ and _fek_, number, quantity.
+
+_Fecket_, an under-waistcoat.
+
+_Feckfu'_, large, brawny, stout.
+
+_Feckless_, puny, weak, silly.
+
+_Feckly_, mostly.
+
+_Feg_, a fig.
+
+_Fegs_, faith, an exclamation.
+
+_Feide_, feud, enmity.
+
+_Fell_, keen, biting; the flesh immediately under the skin; level moor.
+
+_Felly_, relentless.
+
+_Fend_, _Fen_, to make a shift, contrive to live.
+
+_Ferlie_ or _ferley_, to wonder, a wonder, a term of contempt.
+
+_Fetch_, to pull by fits.
+
+_Fetch't_, pull'd intermittently.
+
+_Fey_, strange; one marked for death, predestined.
+
+_Fidge_, to fidget, fidgeting.
+
+_Fidgin-fain_, tickled with pleasure.
+
+_Fient_, fiend, a petty oath.
+
+_Fien ma care_, the devil may care.
+
+_Fier_, sound, healthy; a brother, a friend.
+
+_Fierrie_, bustle, activity.
+
+_Fissle_, to make a rustling noise, to fidget, bustle, fuss.
+
+_Fit_, foot.
+
+_Fittie-lan_, the nearer horse of the hindmost pair in the plough.
+
+_Fizz_, to make a hissing noise, fuss, disturbance.
+
+_Flaffen_, the motion of rags in the wind; of wings.
+
+_Flainen_, flannel.
+
+_Flandrekins_, foreign generals, soldiers of Flanders.
+
+_Flang_, threw with violence.
+
+_Fleech_, to supplicate in a flattering manner.
+
+_Fleechin_, supplicating.
+
+_Fleesh_, a fleece.
+
+_Fleg_, a kick, a random blow, a fight.
+
+_Flether_, to decoy by fair words.
+
+_Flethrin_, _flethers_, flattering--smooth wheedling words.
+
+_Fley_, to scare, to frighten.
+
+_Flichter_, _flichtering_, to flutter as young nestlings do when their
+                           dam approaches.
+
+_Flinders_, shreds, broken pieces.
+
+_Flingin-tree_, a piece of timber hung by way of partition between
+                two horses in a stable; a flail.
+
+_Flisk_, _flisky_, to fret at the yoke.
+
+_Flisket_, fretted.
+
+_Flitter_, to vibrate like the wings of small birds.
+
+_Flittering_, fluttering, vibrating, moving tremulously from place to
+              place.
+
+_Flunkie_, a servant in livery.
+
+_Flyte_, _flyting_, scold: flyting, scolding.
+
+_Foor_, hastened.
+
+_Foord_, a ford.
+
+_Forbears_, forefathers.
+
+_Forbye_, besides.
+
+_Forfairn_, distressed, worn out, jaded, forlorn, destitute.
+
+_Forgather_, to meet, to encounter with.
+
+_Forgie_, to forgive.
+
+_Forinawed_, worn out.
+
+_Forjesket_, jaded with fatigue.
+
+_Fou'_, full, drunk.
+
+_Foughten_, _forfoughten_, troubled, fatigued.
+
+_Foul-thief_, the devil, the arch-fiend.
+
+_Fouth_, plenty, enough, or more than enough.
+
+_Fow_, a measure, a bushel: also a pitchfork.
+
+_Frae_, from.
+
+_Freath_, froth, the frothing of ale in the tankard.
+
+_Frien'_, friend.
+
+_Frosty-calker_, the heels and front of a horse-shoe, turned sharply up
+                 for riding on an icy road.
+
+_Fu'_, full.
+
+_Fud_, the scut or tail of the hare, coney, &c.
+
+_Fuff_, to blow intermittently.
+
+_Fu-hant_, full-handed; said of one well to live in the world.
+
+_Funnie_, full of merriment.
+
+_Fur-ahin_, the hindmost horse on the right hand when ploughing.
+
+_Furder_, further, succeed.
+
+_Furm_, a form, a bench.
+
+_Fusionless_, spiritless, without sap or soul.
+
+_Fyke_, trifling cares, to be in a fuss about trifles.
+
+_Fyte_, to soil, to dirty.
+
+_Fylt_, soiled, dirtied.
+
+
+G.
+
+_Gab_, the mouth, to speak boldly or pertly.
+
+_Gaberlunzie_, wallet-man, or tinker.
+
+_Gae_, to go; _gaed_, went; _gane_ or _gaen_, gone; _gaun_, going.
+
+_Gaet_ or _gate_, way, manner, road.
+
+_Gairs_, parts of a lady's gown.
+
+_Gang_, to go, to walk.
+
+_Gangrel_, a wandering person.
+
+_Gar_, to make, to force to; _gar't_, forced to.
+
+_Garten_, a garter.
+
+_Gash_, wise, sagacious, talkative, to converse.
+
+_Gatty_, failing in body.
+
+_Gaucy_, jolly, large, plump.
+
+_Gaud_ and _gad_, a rod or goad.
+
+_Gaudsman_, one who drives the horses at the plough.
+
+_Gaun_, going.
+
+_Gaunted_, yawned, longed.
+
+_Gawkie_, a thoughtless person, and something weak.
+
+_Gaylies_, _gylie_, pretty well.
+
+_Gear_, riches, goods of any kind.
+
+_Geck_, to toss the head in wantonness or scorn.
+
+_Ged_, a pike.
+
+_Gentles_, great folks.
+
+_Genty_, elegant.
+
+_Geordie_, George, a guinea, called Geordie from the head of King George.
+
+_Get_ and _geat_, a child, a young one.
+
+_Ghaist_, _ghaistis_, a ghost.
+
+_Gie_, to give; _gied_, gave; _gien_, given.
+
+_Giftie_, diminutive of gift.
+
+_Giglets_, laughing maidens.
+
+_Gillie_, _gillock_, diminutive of gill.
+
+_Gilpey_, a half-grown, half-informed boy or girl, a romping lad, a hoyden.
+
+_Gimmer_, an ewe two years old, a contemptuous term for a woman.
+
+_Gin_, if, against.
+
+_Gipsey_, a young girl.
+
+_Girdle_, a round iron plate on which oat-cake is fired.
+
+_Girn_, to grin, to twist the features in rage, agony, &c.; grinning.
+
+_Gizz_, a periwig, the face.
+
+_Glaikit_, inattentive, foolish.
+
+_Glaive_, a sword.
+
+_Glaizie_, glittering, smooth, like glass.
+
+_Glaumed_, grasped, snatched at eagerly.
+
+_Girran_, a poutherie girran, a little vigorous animal; a horse rather
+          old, but yet active when heated.
+
+_Gled_, a hawk.
+
+_Gleg_, sharp, ready.
+
+_Gley_, a squint, to squint; _a-gley_, off at the side, wrong.
+
+_Gleyde_, an old horse.
+
+_Glib-gabbit_, that speaks smoothly and readily.
+
+_Glieb o' lan'_, a portion of ground. The ground belonging to a manse is
+                 called "the glieb," or portion.
+
+_Glint_, _glintin'_, to peep.
+
+_Glinted by_, went brightly past.
+
+_Gloamin_, the twilight.
+
+_Gloamin-shot_, twilight musing; a shot in the twilight.
+
+_Glowr_, to stare, to look; a stare, a look.
+
+_Glowran_, amazed, looking suspiciously, gazing.
+
+_Glum_, displeased.
+
+_Gor-cocks_, the red-game, red-cock, or moor-cock.
+
+_Gowan_, the flower of the daisy, dandelion, hawkweed, &c.
+
+_Gowany_, covered with daisies.
+
+_Goavan_, walking as if blind, or without an aim.
+
+_Gowd_, gold.
+
+_Gowl_, to howl.
+
+_Gowff_, a fool; the game of golf, to strike, as the bat does the ball
+         at golf.
+
+_Gowk_, term of contempt, the cuckoo.
+
+_Grane_ or _grain_, a groan, to groan; _graining_, groaning.
+
+_Graip_, a pronged instrument for cleaning cowhouses.
+
+_Graith_, accoutrements, furniture, dress.
+
+_Grannie_, grandmother.
+
+_Grape_, to grope; _grapet_, groped.
+
+_Great_, _grit_, intimate, familiar.
+
+_Gree_, to agree; _to bear the gree_, to be decidedly victor; _gree't_,
+        agreed.
+
+_Green-graff_, green grave,
+
+_Gruesome_, loathsomely, grim.
+
+_Greet_, to shed tears, to weep; _greetin'_, weeping.
+
+_Grey-neck-quill_, a quill unfit for a pen.
+
+_Griens_, longs, desires.
+
+_Grieves_, stewards.
+
+_Grippit_, seized.
+
+_Groanin-Maut_, drink for the cummers at a lying-in.
+
+_Groat_, to get the whistle of one's groat; to play a losing game, to
+         feel the consequences of one's folly.
+
+_Groset_, a gooseberry.
+
+_Grumph_, a grunt, to grunt.
+
+_Grumphie_, _Grumphin_, a sow; the snorting of an angry pig.
+
+_Grun'_, ground.
+
+_Grunstone_, a grindstone.
+
+_Gruntle_, the phiz, the snout, a grunting noise.
+
+_Grunzie_, a mouth which pokes out like that of a pig.
+
+_Grushie_, thick, of thriving growth.
+
+_Gude_, _guid_, _guids_, the Supreme Being, good, goods.
+
+_Gude auld-has-been_, was once excellent.
+
+_Guid-mornin'_, good-morrow.
+
+_Guid-e'en_, good evening.
+
+_Guidfather_ and _guidmother_, father-in-law, and mother-in-law.
+
+_Guidman_ and _guidwife_, the master and mistress of the house;
+                          _young guidman_, a man newly married.
+
+_Gully_ or _Gullie_, a large knife.
+
+_Gulravage_, joyous mischief.
+
+_Gumlie_, muddy.
+
+_Gumption_, discernment, knowledge, talent.
+
+_Gusty_, _gustfu'_, tasteful.
+
+_Gut-scraper_, a fiddler.
+
+_Gutcher_, grandsire.
+
+
+H.
+
+_Ha'_, hall.
+
+_Ha' Bible_, the great Bible that lies in the hall.
+
+_Haddin'_, house, home, dwelling-place, a possession.
+
+_Hae_, to have, to accept.
+
+_Haen_, had, (the participle of hae); haven.
+
+_Haet_, _fient haet_, a petty oath of negation; nothing.
+
+_Haffet_, the temple, the side of the head.
+
+_Hafflins_, nearly half, partly, not fully grown.
+
+_Hag_, a gulf in mosses and moors, moss-ground.
+
+_Haggis_, a kind of pudding, boiled in the stomach of a cow, or sheep.
+
+_Hain_, to spare, to save, to lay out at interest.
+
+_Hain'd_, spared; _hain'd gear_, hoarded money.
+
+_Hairst_, harvest
+
+_Haith_, petty oath.
+
+_Haivers_, nonsense, speaking without thought.
+
+_Hal'_, or _hald_, an abiding place.
+
+_Hale_, or _haill_, whole, tight, healthy.
+
+_Hallan_, a particular partition-wall in a cottage, or more properly a
+          seat of turf at the outside.
+
+_Hallowmass_, Hallow-eve, 31st October.
+
+_Haly_, holy; "haly-pool," holy well with healing properties.
+
+_Hame_, home.
+
+_Hammered_, the noise of feet like the din of hammers.
+
+_Han's breed_, hand's breadth.
+
+_Hanks_, thread as it comes from the measuring reel, quantities, &c.
+
+_Hansel-throne_, throne when first occupied by a king.
+
+_Hap_, an outer garment, mantle, plaid, &c.; to wrap, to cover, to hap.
+
+_Harigals_, heart, liver, and lights of an animal.
+
+_Hap-shackled_, when a fore and hind foot of a ram are fastened together
+                to prevent leaping he is said to be hap-shackled. A wife
+                is called "the kirk's hap-shackle."
+
+_Happer_, a hopper, the hopper of a mill.
+
+_Happing_, hopping.
+
+_Hap-step-an'-loup_, hop, step, and leap.
+
+_Harkit_, hearkened.
+
+_Harn_, very coarse linen.
+
+_Hash_, a fellow who knows not how to act with propriety.
+
+_Hastit_, hastened.
+
+_Haud_, to hold.
+
+_Haughs_, low-lying, rich land, valleys.
+
+_Haurl_, to drag, to pull violently.
+
+_Haurlin_, tearing off, pulling roughly.
+
+_Haver-meal_, oatmeal.
+
+_Haveril_, a half-witted person, half-witted, one who habitually talks
+           in a foolish or incoherent manner.
+
+_Havins_, good manners, decorum, good sense.
+
+_Hawkie_, a cow, properly one with a white face.
+
+_Heapit_, heaped.
+
+_Healsome_ healthful, wholesome.
+
+_Hearse_, hoarse.
+
+_Heather_, heath.
+
+_Hech_, oh strange! an exclamation during heavy work.
+
+_Hecht_, promised, to foretell something that is to be got or given,
+         foretold, the thing foretold, offered.
+
+_Heckle_, a board in which are fixed a number of sharp steel prongs
+          upright for dressing hemp, flax, &c.
+
+_Hee balou_, words used to soothe a child.
+
+_Heels-owre-gowdie_, topsy-turvy, turned the bottom upwards.
+
+_Heeze_, to elevate, to rise, to lift.
+
+_Hellim_, the rudder or helm.
+
+_Herd_, to tend flocks, one who tends flocks.
+
+_Herrin'_, a herring.
+
+_Herry_, to plunder; most properly to plunder birds' nests.
+
+_Herryment_, plundering, devastation.
+
+_Hersel-hirsel_, a flock of sheep, also a herd of cattle of any sort.
+
+_Het_, hot, heated.
+
+_Heugh_, a crag, a ravine; _coal-heugh_, a coal-pit, _lowin heugh_,
+         a blazing pit.
+
+_Hilch_, _hilchin'_, to halt, halting.
+
+_Hiney_, honey.
+
+_Hing_, to hang.
+
+_Hirple_, to walk crazily, to walk lamely, to creep.
+
+_Histie_, dry, chapt, barren.
+
+_Hitcht_, a loop, made a knot.
+
+_Hizzie_, huzzy, a young girl.
+
+_Hoddin_, the motion of a husbandman riding on a cart-horse, humble.
+
+_Hoddin-gray_, woollen cloth of a coarse quality, made by mingling one
+               black fleece with a dozen white ones.
+
+_Hoggie_, a two-year-old sheep.
+
+_Hog-score_, a distance line in curling drawn across the rink. When a
+             stone fails to cross it, a cry is raised of "A hog, a hog!"
+             and it is removed.
+
+_Hog-shouther_, a kind of horse-play by justling with the shoulder; to
+                justle.
+
+_Hoodie-craw_, a blood crow, corbie.
+
+_Hool_, outer skin or case, a nutshell, a pea-husk.
+
+_Hoolie_, slowly, leisurely.
+
+_Hoord_, a hoard, to hoard.
+
+_Hoordit_, hoarded.
+
+_Horn_, a spoon made of horn.
+
+_Hornie_, one of the many names of the devil.
+
+_Host_, or _hoast_, to cough.
+
+_Hostin_, coughing.
+
+_Hotch'd_, turned  topsy-turvy, blended, ruined, moved.
+
+_Houghmagandie_, loose behaviour.
+
+_Howlet_, an owl.
+
+_Housie_, diminutive of house.
+
+_Hove, hoved_, to heave, to swell.
+
+_Howdie_, a midwife.
+
+_Howe_, hollow, a hollow or dell.
+
+_Howebackit_, sunk in the back, spoken of a horse.
+
+_Howff_, a house of resort.
+
+_Howk_, to dig.
+
+_Howkit_, digged.
+
+_Howkin'_, digging deep.
+
+_Hoy, hoy't_, to urge, urged.
+
+_Hoyse_, a pull upwards. "Hoyse a creel," to raise a basket; hence
+         "hoisting creels."
+
+_Hoyte_, to amble crazily.
+
+_Hughoc_, diminutive of Hughie, as Hughie is of Hugh.
+
+_Hums and hankers_, mumbles and seeks to do what he cannot perform.
+
+_Hunkers_, kneeling and falling back on the hams.
+
+_Hurcheon_, a hedgehog.
+
+_Hurdies_, the loins, the crupper.
+
+_Hushion_, a cushion, also a stocking wanting the foot.
+
+_Huchyalled_, to move with a hilch.
+
+
+I.
+
+_Icker_, an ear of corn.
+
+_Ieroe_, a great grandchild.
+
+_Ilk_, or _ilka_, each, every.
+
+_Ill-deedie_, mischievous.
+
+_Ill-willie_, ill-natured, malicious, niggardly.
+
+_Ingine_, genius, ingenuity.
+
+_Ingle_, fire, fire-place.
+
+_Ingle-low_, light from the fire, flame from the hearth.
+
+_I rede ye_, I advise ye, I warn ye.
+
+_I'se_, I shall or will.
+
+_Ither_, other, one another.
+
+
+J.
+
+_Jad_, jade; also a familiar term among country folks for a giddy young
+       girl.
+
+_Jauk_, to dally, to trifle.
+
+_Jaukin'_, trifling, dallying.
+
+_Jauner_, talking, and not always to the purpose.
+
+_Jaup_, a jerk of water; to jerk, as agitated water.
+
+_Jaw_, coarse raillery, to pour out, to shut, to jerk as water.
+
+_Jillet_, a jilt, a giddy girl.
+
+_Jimp_, to jump, slender in the waist, handsome.
+
+_Jink_, to dodge, to turn a corner; a sudden turning, a corner.
+
+_Jink an' diddle_, moving to music, motion of a fiddler's elbow.
+                   Starting here and there with a tremulous movement.
+
+_Jinker_, that turns quickly, a gay sprightly girl.
+
+_Jinkin'_, dodging, the quick motion of the bow on the fiddle.
+
+_Jirt_, a jerk, the emission of water, to squirt.
+
+_Jocteleg_, a kind of knife.
+
+_Jouk_, to stoop, to bow the head, to conceal.
+
+_Jow_, to _jow_, a verb, which includes both the swinging motion and
+                 pealing sound of a large bell; also the undulation of
+                 water.
+
+_Jundie_, to justle, a push with the elbow.
+
+
+K.
+
+_Kae_, a daw.
+
+_Kail_, colewort, a kind of broth.
+
+_Kailrunt_, the stem of colewort.
+
+_Kain_, fowls, &c., paid as rent by a farmer.
+
+_Kebars_, rafters.
+
+_Kebbuck_, a cheese.
+
+_Keckle_, joyous cry; to cackle as a hen.
+
+_Keek_, a keek, to peep.
+
+_Kelpies_, a sort of mischievous water-spirit, said to haunt fords and
+           ferries at night, especially in storms.
+
+_Ken_, to know; _ken'd_ or _ken't_, knew.
+
+_Kennin_, a small matter.
+
+_Ket-Ketty_, matted, a fleece of wool.
+
+_Kiaught_, carking, anxiety, to be in a flutter.
+
+_Kilt_, to truss up the clothes.
+
+_Kimmer_, a young girl, a gossip.
+
+_Kin'_, kindred.
+
+_Kin'_, kind.
+
+_King's-hood_, a certain part of the entrails of an ox.
+
+_Kintra_, _kintrie_, country.
+
+_Kirn_, the harvest supper, a churn.
+
+_Kirsen_, to christen, to baptize.
+
+_Kist_, a shop-counter.
+
+_Kitchen_, anything that eats with bread, to serve for soup, gravy.
+
+_Kittle_, to tickle, ticklish.
+
+_Kittling_, a young cat. The ace of diamonds is called among rustics
+            the kittlin's e'e.
+
+_Knaggie_, like knags, or points of rocks.
+
+_Knappin-hammer_, a hammer for breaking stones; _knap_, to strike or break.
+
+_Knurlin_, crooked but strong, knotty.
+
+_Knowe_, a small, round hillock, a knoll.
+
+_Kuittle_, to cuddle; _kuitlin_, cuddling, fondling.
+
+_Kye_, cows.
+
+_Kyle_, a district in Ayrshire.
+
+_Kyte_, the belly.
+
+_Kythe_, to discover, to show one's self.
+
+
+L.
+
+_Labour_, thrash.
+
+_Laddie_, diminutive of lad.
+
+_Laggen_, the angle between the side and the bottom of a wooden dish.
+
+_Laigh_, low.
+
+_Lairing, lairie_, wading, and sinking in snow, mud &c., miry.
+
+_Laith_, loath, impure.
+
+_Laithfu_', bashful, sheepish, abstemious.
+
+_Lallans_, Scottish dialect, Lowlands.
+
+_Lambie_, diminutive of lamb.
+
+_Lammas moon_, harvest-moon.
+
+_Lampit_, kind of shell-fish, a limpet.
+
+_Lan_', land, estate.
+
+_Lan'-afore_, foremost horse in the plough.
+
+_Lan'-ahin_, hindmost horse in the  plough.
+
+_Lane_, lone; _my lane, thy tune, &c._, myself alone.
+
+_Lanely_, lonely.
+
+_Lang_, long; to _think lang_, to long, to weary.
+
+_Lap_, did leap.
+
+_Late and air_, late and early.
+
+_Lave_, the rest, the remainder, the others.
+
+_Laverock_, the lark.
+
+_Lawlan'_, lowland.
+
+_Lay my dead_, attribute my death.
+
+_Leal_, loyal, true, faithful.
+
+_Lear_, learning, lore.
+
+_Lee-lang_, live-long.
+
+_Leesome luve_, happy, gladsome love.
+
+_Leeze me_, a phrase of congratulatory endearment; I am happy in thee or
+            proud of thee.
+
+_Leister_, a three-pronged and barbed dart for striking fish.
+
+_Leugh_, did laugh.
+
+_Leuk_, a look, to look.
+
+_Libbet_, castrated.
+
+_Lick, licket_, beat, thrashen.
+
+_Lift_, sky, firmament.
+
+_Lightly_, sneeringly, to sneer at, to undervalue.
+
+_Lilt_, a ballad, a tune, to sing.
+
+_Limmer_, a kept mistress, a strumpet.
+
+_Limp't_, limped, hobbled.
+
+_Link_, to trip along; _linkin_, tripping along.
+
+_Linn_, a waterfall, a cascade.
+
+_Lint_, flax; _lint i' the bell_, flax in flower.
+
+_Lint-white_, a linnet, flaxen.
+
+_Loan_, the place of milking.
+
+_Loaning_, lane.
+
+_Loof_, the palm of the hand.
+
+_Loot_, did let.
+
+_Looves_, the plural of loof.
+
+_Losh man_! rustic exclamation modified from Lord man.
+
+_Loun_, a follow, a ragamuffin, a woman of easy virtue.
+
+_Loup_, leap, startled with pain.
+
+_Louper-like_, lan-louper, a stranger of a suspected character.
+
+_Lowe_, a flame.
+
+_Lowin_', flaming; _lowin-drouth_, burning desire for drink.
+
+_Lowrie_, abbreviation of Lawrence.
+
+_Lowse_, to loose.
+
+_Lowsed_, unbound, loosed.
+
+_Lug_, the ear.
+
+_Lug of the law_, at the judgment-seat.
+
+_Lugget_, having a handle.
+
+_Luggie_, a small wooden dish with a handle.
+
+_Lum_, the chimney; _lum-head_, chimney-top.
+
+_Lunch_, a large piece of cheese, flesh, &c.
+
+_Lunt_, a column of smoke, to smoke, to walk quickly.
+
+_Lyart_, of a mixed colour, gray.
+
+
+M.
+
+_Mae_, and _mair_, more.
+
+_Maggot's-meat_, food for the worms.
+
+_Mahoun_, Satan.
+
+_Mailen_, a farm.
+
+_Maist_, most, almost.
+
+_Maistly_, mostly, for the greater part.
+
+_Mak_', to make; _makin_', making.
+
+_Mally_, Molly, Mary.
+
+_Mang_, among.
+
+_Manse_, the house of the parish minister is called "the Manse."
+
+_Manteele_, a mantle.
+
+_Mark_, marks. This and several other nouns which in English require
+        an _s_ to form the plural, are in Scotch, like the words sheep,
+        deer, the same in both numbers.
+
+_Mark, merk_, a Scottish coin, value thirteen shillings and four-pence.
+
+_Marled_, party-coloured.
+
+_Mar's year_, the year 1715. Called Mar's year from the rebellion of
+              Erskine, Earl of Mar.
+
+_Martial chuck,_ the soldier's camp-comrade, female companion.
+
+_Mashlum_, mixed corn.
+
+_Mask_, to mash, as malt, &c., to infuse.
+
+_Maskin-pot_, teapot.
+
+_Maukin_, a hare.
+
+_Maun, mauna_, must, must not.
+
+_Maut_, malt.
+
+_Mavis_, the thrush.
+
+_Maw_, to mow.
+
+_Mawin_, mowing; _maun_, mowed; _maw'd_, mowed.
+
+_Mawn_, a small basket, without a handle.
+
+_Meere_, a mare.
+
+_Melancholious_, mournful.
+
+_Melder_, a load of corn, &c., sent to the mill to be ground.
+
+_Mell_, to be intimate, to meddle, also a mallet for pounding barley in
+        a stone trough.
+
+_Melvie_, to soil with meal.
+
+_Men_', to mend.
+
+_Mense_, good manners, decorum.
+
+_Menseless_, ill-bred, impudent.
+
+_Merle_, the blackbird.
+
+_Messin_, a small dog.
+
+_Middin_, a dunghill.
+
+_Middin-creels_, dung-baskets, panniers in which horses carry manure.
+
+_Midden-hole_, a gutter at the bottom  of a dunghill.
+
+_Milkin-shiel_ a place where cows or ewes are brought to be milked.
+
+_Mim_, prim, affectedly meek.
+
+_Mim-mou'd_, gentle-mouthed.
+
+_Min_', to remember.
+
+_Minawae_, minuet.
+
+_Mind't_, mind it, resolved, intending, remembered.
+
+_Minnie_, mother, dam.
+
+_Mirk_, dark.
+
+_Misca_', to abuse, to call names; _misca'd_, abused.
+
+_Mischanter_, accident.
+
+_Misleard_, mischievous, unmannerly.
+
+_Misteuk_, mistook.
+
+_Mither,_ mother.
+
+_Mixtie-maxtie_, confusedly mixed, mish-mash.
+
+_Moistify_, _moistified_, to moisten, to soak; moistened, soaked.
+
+_Mons-Meg,_ a large piece of ordnance, to be seen at the Castle of
+            Edinburgh, composed of iron bars welded together and then
+            hooped.
+
+_Mools_, earth.
+
+_Mony_, or _monie_, many.
+
+_Moop,_ to nibble as a sheep.
+
+_Moorlan_, of or belonging to moors.
+
+_Morn_, the next day, to-morrow.
+
+_Mou_, the mouth.
+
+_Moudiwort_, a mole.
+
+_Mousie_, diminutive of mouse.
+
+_Muckle_, or _mickle_, great, big, much.
+
+_Muses-stank_, muses-rill, a stank, slow-flowing water.
+
+_Musie_, diminutive of muse.
+
+_Muslin-kail_, broth, composed simply of water, shelled barley, and
+               greens; thin poor broth.
+
+_Mutchkin_, an English pint.
+
+_Mysel_, myself.
+
+
+N.
+
+_Na_', no, not, nor.
+
+_Nae_, or _na_, no, not any.
+
+_Naething_, or _naithing_, nothing.
+
+_Naig_, a horse, a nag.
+
+_Nane_, none.
+
+_Nappy_, ale, to be tipsy.
+
+_Negleckit_, neglected.
+
+_Neebor_, a neighbour.
+
+_Neuk_, nook.
+
+_Neist_, next.
+
+_Nieve, neif_, the fist
+
+_Nievefu'_, handful.
+
+_Niffer_, an exchange, to barter.
+
+_Niger_, a negro.
+
+_Nine-tailed cat_, a hangman's whip.
+
+_Nit_, a nut.
+
+_Norland_, of or belonging to the north.
+
+_Notic't_, noticed.
+
+_Nowte_, black cattle.
+
+
+O.
+
+_O'_, of.
+
+_O'ergang_, overbearingness, to treat with indignity, literally to tread.
+
+_O'erlay_, an upper cravat.
+
+_Ony_, or _onie_, any.
+
+_Or_, is often used for ere, before.
+
+_Orra-duddies_, superfluous rags, old clothes.
+
+_O't_, of it.
+
+_Ourie_, drooping, shivering.
+
+_Oursel, oursels_, ourselves.
+
+_Outlers_, outliers; cattle unhoused.
+
+_Ower, owre_, over.
+
+_Owre-hip_, striking with a forehammer by bringing it with a swing over
+            the hip.
+
+_Owsen_, oxen.
+
+_Oxtered_, carried or supported under the arm.
+
+
+P.
+
+_Pack_, intimate, familiar: twelve stone of wool.
+
+_Paidle, paidlen_, to walk with difficulty, as if in water.
+
+_Painch_, paunch.
+
+_Paitrick_, partridge.
+
+_Pang_, to cram.
+
+_Parle_, courtship.
+
+_Parishen_, parish.
+
+_Parritch_, oatmeal pudding, a well-known Scotch drink.
+
+_Pat_, did put, a pot.
+
+_Pattle_, or _pettle_, a small spades to clean the plough.
+
+_Paughty_, proud, haughty.
+
+_Pauky_, cunning, sly.
+
+_Pay't_, paid, beat.
+
+_Peat-reek_, the smoke of burning turf, a bitter exhalation, whisky.
+
+_Pech_, to fetch the breath shortly, as in an asthma.
+
+_Pechan_, the crop, the stomach.
+
+_Pechin_, respiring with difficulty.
+
+_Pennie_, riches.
+
+_Pet_, a domesticated sheep, &c., a favourite.
+
+_Pettle_, to cherish.
+
+_Philabeg_, the kilt.
+
+_Phraise_, fair speeches, flattery, to flatter.
+
+_Phraisin_, flattering.
+
+_Pibroch_, a martial air.
+
+_Pickle_, a small quantity, one grain of corn.
+
+_Pigmy-scraper_, little fiddler; a term of contempt for a bad player.
+
+_Pint-stomp_, a two-quart measure.
+
+_Pine_, pain, uneasiness.
+
+_Pingle_, a small pan for warming children's sops.
+
+_Plack_, an old Scotch coin, the third part of an English penny.
+
+_Plackless_, pennyless, without money.
+
+_Plaidie_, diminutive of plaid.
+
+_Platie_, diminutive of plate.
+
+_Plew_, or _pleugh_, a plough.
+
+_Pliskie_, a trick.
+
+_Plumrose_, primrose.
+
+_Pock_, a meal-bag.
+
+_Poind_, to seize on cattle, or take the goods as the laws of Scotland
+         allow, for rent, &c.
+
+_Poorteth_, poverty.
+
+_Posie_, a nosegay, a garland.
+
+_Pou, pou'd_, to pull, pulled.
+
+_Pouk_, to pluck.
+
+_Poussie_, a hare or cat.
+
+_Pouse_, to pluck with the hand.
+
+_Pout_, a polt, a chick.
+
+_Pou't_, did pull.
+
+_Poutherey_, fiery, active.
+
+_Pouthery_, like powder.
+
+_Pow_, the head, the skull.
+
+_Pownie_, a little horse, a pony.
+
+_Powther_, or _pouther_, gunpowder.
+
+_Preclair_, supereminent.
+
+_Preen_, a pin.
+
+_Prent_, printing, print.
+
+_Prie_, to taste; _prie'd_, tasted.
+
+_Prief_, proof.
+
+_Prig_, to cheapen, to dispute; _priggin_, cheapening.
+
+_Primsie_, demure, precise.
+
+_Propone_, to lay down, to propose.
+
+_Pund, pund o' tow_, pound, pound weight of the refuse of flax.
+
+_Pyet_, a magpie.
+
+_Pyle, a pyle, o' caff_, a single grain of chaff.
+
+_Pystle_, epistle.
+
+
+Q.
+
+_Quat_, quit
+
+_Quak_, the cry of a duck.
+
+_Quech_, a drinking-cup made of wood with two handles.
+
+_Quey_, a cow from one to two years old, a heifer.
+
+_Quines_, queans.
+
+_Quakin_, quaking.
+
+
+R.
+
+_Ragweed_, herb-ragwort.
+
+_Raible_, to rattle, nonsense.
+
+_Rair_, to roar.
+
+_Raize_, to madden, to inflame.
+
+_Ramfeezled_, fatigued, overpowered.
+
+_Rampin'_, raging.
+
+_Ramstam_, thoughtless, forward.
+
+_Randie_, a scolding sturdy beggar, a shrew.
+
+_Rantin_', joyous.
+
+_Raploch_, properly a coarse cloth, but used for coarse.
+
+_Rarely_, excellently, very well.
+
+_Rash_, a rush; _rash-buss_, a bush of rushes.
+
+_Ratton_, a rat.
+
+_Raucle_, rash, stout, fearless, reckless.
+
+_Raught_, reached.
+
+_Raw_, a row.
+
+_Rax_, to stretch.
+
+_Ream_, cream, to cream.
+
+_Reamin'_, brimful, frothing.
+
+_Reave_, take by force.
+
+_Rebute_, to repulse, rebuke.
+
+_Reck_, to heed.
+
+_Rede_, counsel, to counsel, to discourse.
+
+_Red-peats_, burning turfs.
+
+_Red-wat-shod_, walking in blood over the shoe-tops.
+
+_Red-wud_, stark mad.
+
+_Ree_, half drunk, fuddled; _a ree yaud_, a wild horse.
+
+_Reek_, smoke.
+
+_Reekin'_, smoking.
+
+_Reekit_, smoked, smoky.
+
+_Reestit_, stood restive; stunted, withered.
+
+_Remead_, remedy.
+
+_Requite_, requited.
+
+_Restricked_, restricted.
+
+_Rew_, to smile, look affectionately, tenderly.
+
+_Rickles_, shocks of corn, stooks.
+
+_Riddle_, instrument for purifying corn.
+
+_Rief-randies_, men who take the property of others, accompanied by
+                violence and rude words.
+
+_Rig_, a ridge.
+
+_Rin_, to run, to melt; _rinnin'_, running.
+
+_Rink_, the course of the stones, a term in curling on ice.
+
+_Rip_, a handful of unthreshed corn.
+
+_Ripples_, pains in the back and loins, sounds which usher in death.
+
+_Ripplin-kame_, instrument  for dressing flax.
+
+_Riskit_, a noise like the tearing of roots.
+
+_Rockin'_, a denomination for a friendly visit. In former times young
+           women met with their distaffs during the winter evenings, to
+           sing, and spin, and be merry; these were called "rockings."
+
+_Roke_, distaff.
+
+_Rood_, stands likewise for the plural, roods.
+
+_Roon_, a shred, the selvage of woollen cloth.
+
+_Roose_, to praise, to commend.
+
+_Roun'_, round, in the circle of neighbourhood.
+
+_Roupet_, hoarse, as with a cold.
+
+_Row_, to roll, to rap, to roll as water.
+
+_Row't_, rolled, wrapped.
+
+_Rowte_, to low, to bellow.
+
+_Rowth_, plenty.
+
+_Rowtin'_, lowing.
+
+_Rozet_, rosin.
+
+_Rumble-gumption_, rough commonsense.
+
+_Run-deils_, downright devils.
+
+_Rung_, a cudgel.
+
+_Runt_, the stem of colewort or cabbage.
+
+_Runkled_, wrinkled.
+
+_Ruth_, a woman's name, the book so called, sorrow.
+
+_Ryke_, reach.
+
+
+S.
+
+_Sae_, so.
+
+_Saft_, soft.
+
+_Sair_, to serve, a sore; _sairie_, sorrowful.
+
+_Sairly_, sorely.
+
+_Sair't_, served.
+
+_Sark_, a shirt.
+
+_Sarkit_, provided in shirts.
+
+_Saugh_, willow.
+
+_Saugh-woodies_, withies, made of willows, now supplanted by ropes
+                          and chains.
+
+_Saul_, soul.
+
+_Saumont_, salmon.
+
+_Saunt, sauntet_, saint; to varnish.
+
+_Saut_, salt.
+
+_Saw_, to sow.
+
+_Sawin'_, sowing.
+
+_Sax_, six.
+
+_Scaud_, to scald.
+
+_Scauld_, to scold.
+
+_Scaur_, apt to be scared; a precipitous bank of earth which the stream
+         has washed red.
+
+_Scawl_, scold.
+
+_Scone_, a kind of bread.
+
+_Sconner_, a loathing, to loath.
+
+_Scraich_ and _Scriegh_, to scream, as a hen or partridge.
+
+_Screed_, to tear, a rent; _screeding_, tearing.
+
+_Scrieve, scrieven,_ to glide softly, gleesomely along.
+
+_Scrimp_, to scant.
+
+_Scrimpet_, scant, scanty.
+
+_Scroggie_, covered with underwood, bushy.
+
+_Sculdudrey_, fornication.
+
+_Seizin'_, seizing.
+
+_Sel_, self; _a body's sel'_, one's self alone.
+
+_Sell't_, did sell.
+
+_Sen'_, to send.
+
+_Servan'_, servant.
+
+_Settlin'_, settling; _to get a settlin'_, to be frightened into quietness.
+
+_Sets, sets off_, goes away.
+
+_Shachlet-feet_, ill-shaped.
+
+_Shair'd_, a shred, a shard.
+
+_Shangan_, a stick cleft at one end for pulling the tail of a dog, &c.,
+           by way of mischief, or to frighten him away.
+
+_Shank-it_, walk it; _shanks_, legs.
+
+_Shaul_, shallow.
+
+_Shaver_, a humorous wag, a barber.
+
+_Shavie_, to do an ill turn.
+
+_Shaw_, to show; a small wood in a hollow place.
+
+_Sheep-shank, to think one's self nae sheep-shank_, to be conceited.
+
+_Sherra-muir_, Sheriff-Muir, the famous battle of, 1715.
+
+_Sheugh_, a ditch, a trench, a sluice.
+
+_Shiel, shealing_, a shepherd's cottage.
+
+_Shill_, shrill.
+
+_Shog_, a shock, a push off at one side.
+
+_Shoo_, ill to please, ill to fit.
+
+_Shool_, a shovel.
+
+_Shoon_, shoes.
+
+_Shore_, to offer, to threaten.
+
+_Shor'd_, half offered and threatened.
+
+_Shouther_, the shoulder.
+
+_Shot_, one traverse of the shuttle from side to side of the web.
+
+_Sic_, such.
+
+_Sicker_, sure, steady.
+
+_Sidelins_, sideling, slanting.
+
+_Silken-snood_, a fillet of silk, a token of virginity.
+
+_Siller_, silver, money, white.
+
+_Sin_, a son.
+
+_Sinsyne_, since then.
+
+_Skaith_, to damage, to injure, injury.
+
+_Skeigh_, proud, nice, saucy, mettled.
+
+_Skeigh_, shy, maiden coyness.
+
+_Skellum_, to strike, to slap; to walk with a smart tripping step, a
+           smart stroke.
+
+_Skelpi-limmer_, a technical term in female scolding.
+
+_Skelpin, skelpit_, striking, walking rapidly, literally striking the
+                    ground.
+
+_Skinklin_, thin, gauzy, scaltery.
+
+_Skirling_, shrieking, crying.
+
+_Skirl_, to cry, to shriek shrilly.
+
+_Skirl't_, shrieked.
+
+_Sklent_, slant, to run aslant, to deviate from truth.
+
+_Sklented_, ran, or hit, in an oblique direction.
+
+_Skouth_, vent, free action.
+
+_Skreigh_, a scream, to scream, the first cry uttered by a child.
+
+_Skyte_, a worthless fellow, to slide rapidly off.
+
+_Skyrin_, party-coloured, the checks of the tartan.
+
+_Slae_, sloe.
+
+_Slade_, did slide.
+
+_Slap_, a gate, a breach in a fence.
+
+_Slaw_, slow.
+
+_Slee, sleest_, sly, slyest.
+
+_Sleekit_, sleek, sly.
+
+_Sliddery_, slippery.
+
+_Slip-shod_, smooth shod.
+
+_Sloken_, quench, slake.
+
+_Slype_, to fall over, as a wet furrow from the plough.
+
+_Slypet-o'er_, fell over with a slow reluctant motion.
+
+_Sma'_, small.
+
+_Smeddum_, dust, powder, mettle, sense, sagacity.
+
+_Smiddy_, smithy.
+
+_Smirking_, good-natured, winking.
+
+_Smoor, smoored_, to smother, smothered.
+
+_Smoutie_, smutty, obscene; _smoutie phiz_, sooty aspect.
+
+_Smytrie_, a numerous collection of small individuals.
+
+_Snapper_, mistake.
+
+_Snash_, abuse, Billingsgate, impertinence.
+
+_Snaw_, snow, to snow.
+
+_Snaw-broo_, melted snow.
+
+_Snawie_, snowy.
+
+_Snap_, to lop, to cut off.
+
+_Sned-besoms_, to cut brooms.
+
+_Sneeshin_, snuff.
+
+_Sneeshin-mill_, a snuff-box.
+
+_Snell_ and _snelly_, bitter, biting; _snellest_, bitterest.
+
+_Snick-drawing_, trick, contriving.
+
+_Snick_, the latchet of a door.
+
+_Snirt, snirtle_, concealed laughter, to breathe the nostrils in a
+                  displeased manner.
+
+_Snool_, one whose spirit is broken with oppressive slavery; to submit
+         tamely, to sneak.
+
+_Snoove_, to go smoothly and constantly, to sneak.
+
+_Snowk, snowkit_, to scent or snuff as a dog, scented, snuffed.
+
+_Sodger_, a soldier.
+
+_Sonsie_, having sweet engaging looks, lucky, jolly.
+
+_Soom_, to swim.
+
+_Souk_, to suck, to drink long and enduringly.
+
+_Souple_, flexible, swift.
+
+_Soupled_, suppled.
+
+_Souther_, to solder.
+
+_Souter_, a shoemaker.
+
+_Sowens_, the fine flour remaining among the seeds, of oatmeal made
+          into an agreeable pudding.
+
+_Sowp_, a spoonful, a small quantity of anything liquid.
+
+_Sowth_, to try over a tune with a low whistle.
+
+_Spae_, to prophesy, to divine.
+
+_Spails_, chips, splinters.
+
+_Spaul_, a limb.
+
+_Spairge_, to clash, to soil, as with mire.
+
+_Spates_, sudden floods.
+
+_Spaviet_, having the spavin.
+
+_Speat_, a sweeping torrent after rain or thaw.
+
+_Speel_, to climb.
+
+_Spence_, the parlour of a farmhouse or cottage.
+
+_Spier_, to ask, to inquire; _spiert_, inquired.
+
+_Spinnin-graith_, wheel and roke and lint.
+
+_Splatter_, to splutter, a splutter.
+
+_Spleughan_, a tobacco-pouch.
+
+_Splore_, a frolic, noise, riot.
+
+_Sprachled_, scrambled.
+
+_Sprattle_, to scramble.
+
+_Spreckled_, spotted, speckled.
+
+_Spring_, a quick air in music, a Scottish reel.
+
+_Sprit, spret_, a tough-rooted plant something like rushes, jointed-leaved
+                rush.
+
+_Sprittie_, full of spirits.
+
+_Spunk_, fire, mettle, wit, spark.
+
+_Spunkie_, mettlesome, fiery; will o' the wisp, or ignis fatuus; the devil.
+
+_Spurtle_, a stick used in making oatmeal pudding or porridge, a notable
+           Scottish dish.
+
+_Squad_, a crew or party, a squadron.
+
+_Squatter_, to flutter in water, as a wild-duck, &c.
+
+_Squattle_, to sprawl in the act of hiding.
+
+_Squeel_, a scream, a screech, to scream.
+
+_Stacher_, to stagger.
+
+_Stack_, a rick of corn, hay, peats.
+
+_Staggie_, a stag.
+
+_Staig_, a two year-old horse.
+
+_Stalwart_, stately, strong.
+
+_Stang_, sting, stung.
+
+_Stan't_, to stand; _stan't_, did stand.
+
+_Stane_, stone.
+
+_Stank_, did stink, a pool of standing water, slow-moving water.
+
+_Stap_, stop, stave.
+
+_Stark_, stout, potent.
+
+_Startle_, to run as cattle stung by the gadfly.
+
+_Staukin_, stalking, walking disdainfully, walking without an aim.
+
+_Staumrel_, a blockhead, half-witted.
+
+_Staw_, did steal, to surfeit.
+
+_Stech_, to cram the belly.
+
+_Stechin_, cramming.
+
+_Steek_, to shut, a stitch.
+
+_Steer_, to molest, to stir.
+
+_Steeve_, firm, compacted.
+
+_Stell_, a still.
+
+_Sten_, to rear as a horse, to leap suddenly.
+
+_Stravagin_, wandering without an aim.
+
+_Stents_, tribute, dues of any kind.
+
+_Stey_, steep; _styest_, steepest.
+
+_Stibble_, stubble; _stubble-rig_, the reaper in harvest who takes
+                                   the lead.
+
+_Stick-an'-stow_, totally, altogether.
+
+_Stilt-stilts_, a crutch; to limp, to halt; poles for crossing a river.
+
+_Stimpart_, the eighth part of a Winchester bushel.
+
+_Stirk_, a cow or bullock a year old.
+
+_Stock_, a plant of colewort, cabbages.
+
+_Stockin'_, stocking; _throwing the stockin'_, when the bride and
+              bridegroom are put into bed, the former throws a stocking
+              at random among the company, and the person whom it falls
+              on is the next that will be married.
+
+_Stook, stooked_, a shock of corn, made into shocks.
+
+_Stot_, a young bull or ox.
+
+_Stound_, sudden pang of the heart.
+
+_Stoup_, or _stowp_, a kind of high narrow jug or dish with a handle
+                     for holding liquids.
+
+_Stowre_, dust, more particularly dust in motion; _stowrie_, dusty.
+
+_Stownlins_, by stealth.
+
+_Stown_, stolen.
+
+_Stoyte_, the walking of a drunken man.
+
+_Straek_, did strike.
+
+_Strae_, straw; _to die a fair strae death_, to die in bed.
+
+_Straik_, to stroke; _straiket_, stroked.
+
+_Strappen_, tall, handsome, vigorous.
+
+_Strath_, low alluvial land, a holm.
+
+_Straught_, straight.
+
+_Streek_, stretched, to stretch.
+
+_Striddle_, to straddle.
+
+_Stroan_, to spout, to piss.
+
+_Stroup_, the spout.
+
+_Studdie_, the anvil.
+
+_Stumpie_, diminutive of stump; a grub pen.
+
+_Strunt_, spirituous liquor of any kind; to walk sturdily, to be affronted.
+
+_Stuff_, corn or pulse of any kind.
+
+_Sturt_, trouble; to molest.
+
+_Startin_, frighted.
+
+_Styme_, a glimmer.
+
+_Sucker_, sugar.
+
+_Sud_, should.
+
+_Sugh_, the continued rushing noise of wind or water.
+
+_Sumph_, a pluckless fellow, with little heart or soul.
+
+_Suthron_, Southern, an old name of the English.
+
+_Swaird_, sword.
+
+_Swall'd_, swelled.
+
+_Swank_, stately, jolly.
+
+_Swankie_, or _swanker_, a tight strapping young fellow or girl.
+
+_Swap_, an exchange, to barter.
+
+_Swarfed_, swooned.
+
+_Swat_, did sweat.
+
+_Swatch_, a sample.
+
+_Swats_, drink, good ale, new ale or wort.
+
+_Sweer_, lazy, averse; _dead-sweer_, extremely averse.
+
+_Swoor_, swore, did swear.
+
+_Swinge_, beat, to whip.
+
+_Swinke_, to labour hard.
+
+_Swirlie_, knaggy, full of knots.
+
+_Swirl_, a curve, an eddying blast or pool, a knot in the wood.
+
+_Swith_, get away.
+
+_Swither_, to hesitate in choice, an irresolute wavering in choice.
+
+_Syebow_, a thick-necked onion.
+
+_Syne_, since, ago, then.
+
+
+T.
+
+_Tackets_, broad-headed nails for the heels of shoes.
+
+_Tae_, a toe, _three-taed_, having three prongs.
+
+_Tak_, to take; _takin_, taking.
+
+_Tangle_, a sea-weed used as salad.
+
+_Tap_, the top.
+
+_Tapetless_, heedless, foolish.
+
+_Targe, targe them tightly_, cross-question them severely.
+
+_Tarrow_, to murmur at one's allowance.
+
+_Tarry-breeks_, a sailor.
+
+_Tassie_, a small measure for liquor.
+
+_Tauld_, or _tald_, told.
+
+_Taupie_, a foolish, thoughtless young person.
+
+_Tauted_, or _tautie_, matted together (spoken of hair and wool).
+
+_Tawie_, that allows itself peaceably to be handled (spoken of a cow,
+         horse, &c.)
+
+_Teat_, a small quantity.
+
+_Teethless bawtie_, toothless cur.
+
+_Teethless gab_, a mouth wanting the teeth, an expression of scorn.
+
+_Ten-hours-bite_, a slight feed to the horse while in the yoke in the
+                  forenoon.
+
+_Tent_, a field pulpit, heed, caution; to take heed.
+
+_Tentie_, heedful, cautious.
+
+_Tentless_, heedless, careless.
+
+_Teugh_, tough.
+
+_Thack_, thatch; _thack an' rape_, clothing and necessaries.
+
+_Thae_, these.
+
+_Thairms_, small guts, fiddle-strings.
+
+_Thankit_, thanked.
+
+_Theekit_, thatched.
+
+_Thegither_, together.
+
+_Themsel'_, themselves.
+
+_Thick_, intimate, familiar.
+
+_Thigger_, crowding, make a noise; a seeker of alms.
+
+_Thir_, these.
+
+_Thirl_, to thrill.
+
+_Thirled_, thrilled, vibrated.
+
+_Thole_, to suffer, to endure.
+
+_Thowe_, a thaw, to thaw.
+
+_Thowless_, slack, lazy.
+
+_Thrang_, throng, busy, a crowd.
+
+_Thrapple_, throat, windpipe.
+
+_Thraw_, to sprain, to twist, to contradict.
+
+_Thrawin'_, twisting, &c.
+
+_Thrawn_, sprained, twisted, contradicted, contradiction.
+
+_Threap_, to maintain by dint of assertion.
+
+_Threshin'_, threshing; _threshin'-tree_, a flail.
+
+_Threteen_, thirteen.
+
+_Thristle_, thistle.
+
+_Through_, to go on with, to make out.
+
+_Throuther_, pell-mell, confusedly (through-ither).
+
+_Thrum_, sound of a spinning-wheel in motion, the thread remaining at the
+         end of a web.
+
+_Thud_, to make a loud intermittent noise.
+
+_Thummart_, foumart, polecat
+
+_Thumpit_, thumped.
+
+_Thysel'_, thyself.
+
+_Till't_, to it.
+
+_Timmer_, timber.
+
+_Tine_, to lose; _tint_, lost.
+
+_Tinkler_, a tinker.
+
+_Tip_, a ram.
+
+_Tippence_, twopence, money.
+
+_Tirl_, to make a slight noise, to uncover.
+
+_Tirlin'_, _tirlet_, uncovering.
+
+_Tither_, the other.
+
+_Tittle_, to whisper, to prate idly.
+
+_Tittlin_, whispering.
+
+_Tocher_, marriage portion; _tocher bands_, marriage bonds.
+
+_Tod_, a fox. _"Tod i' the fauld,"_ fox in the fold.
+
+_Toddle_, to totter, like the walk of a child; _todlen-dow_, toddling dove.
+
+_Too-fa'_, "Too fa' o' the nicht," when twilight darkens into night; a
+            building added, a lean-to.
+
+_Toom_, empty.
+
+_Toomed_, emptied.
+
+_Toop_, a ram.
+
+_Toss_, a toast.
+
+_Tosie_, warm and ruddy with warmth, good-looking, intoxicating.
+
+_Toun_, a hamlet, a farmhouse.
+
+_Tout_, the blast of a horn or trumpet, to blow a horn or trumpet.
+
+_Touzles_, _touzling_, romping, ruffling the clothes.
+
+_Tow_, a rope.
+
+_Towmond_, a twelvemonth.
+
+_Towzie_, rough, shaggy.
+
+_Toy_, a very old fashion of female head-dress.
+
+_Toyte_, to totter like old age.
+
+_Trams_, _barrow-trams_, the handles of a barrow.
+
+_Transmugrified_, transmigrated, metamorphosed.
+
+_Trashtrie_, trash, rubbish.
+
+_Trickie_, full of tricks.
+
+_Trig_, spruce, neat.
+
+_Trimly_, cleverly, excellently, in a seemly manner.
+
+_Trinle_, _trintle_, the wheel of a barrow, to roll.
+
+_Trinklin_, trickling.
+
+_Troggers_, _troggin'_, wandering merchants, goods to truck or dispose of.
+
+_Trow_, to believe, to trust to.
+
+_Trowth_, truth, a petty oath.
+
+_Trysts_, appointments, love meetings, cattle shows.
+
+_Tumbler-wheels_, wheels of a kind of low cart.
+
+_Tug_, raw hide, of which in old time plough-traces were frequently made.
+
+_Tug_ or _tow_, either in leather or rope.
+
+_Tulzie_, a quarrel, to quarrel, to fight.
+
+_Twa_, two; _twa-fald_, twofold.
+
+_Twa-three_, a few.
+
+_Twad_, it would.
+
+_Twal_, twelve; _twalpennie worth_, a small quantity, a pennyworth.
+                      --N.B. One penny English is 12d. Scotch.
+
+_Twa faul_, twofold.
+
+_Twin_, to part.
+
+_Twistle_, twisting, the art of making a rope.
+
+_Tyke_, a dog.
+
+_Tysday_, Tuesday.
+
+
+U.
+
+_Unback'd filly_, a young mare hitherto unsaddled.
+
+_Unco_, strange, uncouth, very, very great, prodigious.
+
+_Uncos_, news.
+
+_Unfauld_, unfold.
+
+_Unkenn'd_, unknown.
+
+_Unsicker_, uncertain, wavering, insecure.
+
+_Unskaithed_, undamaged, unhurt.
+
+_Upo'_, upon.
+
+
+V.
+
+_Vap'rin_, vapouring.
+
+_Vauntie_, joyous, delight which cannot contain itself.
+
+_Vera_, very.
+
+_Virl_, a ring round a column, &c.
+
+_Vogie_, vain.
+
+
+W.
+
+_Wa'_, wall; _wa's_, walls.
+
+_Wabster_, a weaver.
+
+_Wad_, would, to bet, a bet, a pledge.
+
+_Wadna_, would not.
+
+_Wadset_, land on which money is lent, a mortgage.
+
+_Wae_, woe; _waefu'_, sorrowful, wailing.
+
+_Waefu'-woodie_, hangman's rope.
+
+_Waesucks! Wae's me!_, Alas! O the pity!
+
+_Wa' flower_, wall-flower.
+
+_Waft_, woof; the cross thread that goes from the shuttle through the web.
+
+_Waifs an' crocks_, stray sheep and old ewes past breeding.
+
+_Wair_, to lay out, to expend.
+
+_Wale_, choice, to choose.
+
+_Wal'd_, chose, chosen.
+
+_Walie_, ample, large, jolly, also an exclamation of distress.
+
+_Wame_, the belly.
+
+_Wamefu'_, a bellyful.
+
+_Wanchansie_, unlucky.
+
+_Wanrest_, _wanrestfu'_, restless, unrestful.
+
+_Wark_, work.
+
+_Wark-lume_, a tool to work with.
+
+_Warld's-worm_, a miser.
+
+_Warle_, or _warld_, world.
+
+_Warlock_, a wizard; _warlock-knowe_, a knoll where warlocks once held
+                                      tryste.
+
+_Warly_, worldly, eager in amassing wealth.
+
+_Warran'_, a warrant, to warrant.
+
+_Warsle_, wrestle.
+
+_Warsl'd_, or _warst'led_, wrestled.
+
+_Wastrie_, prodigality.
+
+_Wat_, wet; _I wat_--_I wot_--I know.
+
+_Wat_, a man's upper dress; a sort of mantle.
+
+_Water-brose_, brose made of meal and water simply, without the addition
+               of milk, butter, &c.
+
+_Wattle_, a twig, a wand.
+
+_Wauble_, to swing, to reel.
+
+_Waukin_, waking, watching.
+
+_Waukit_, thickened as fullers do cloth.
+
+_Waukrife_, not apt to sleep.
+
+_Waur_, worse, to worst.
+
+_Waur't_, worsted.
+
+_Wean_, a child.
+
+_Weary-widdle_, toilsome contest of life.
+
+_Weason_, weasand, windpipe.
+
+_Weaven' the stocking_, to knit stockings.
+
+_Weeder-clips_, instrument for removing weeds.
+
+_Wee_, little; _wee things_, little ones, _wee bits_, a small matter.
+
+_Weel_, well; _weelfare_, welfare.
+
+_Weet_, rain, wetness; to wet.
+
+_We'se_, we shall.
+
+_Wha_, who.
+
+_Whaizle_, to wheeze.
+
+_Whalpit_, whelped.
+
+_Whang_, a leathorn thing, a piece of cheese, bread, &c.
+
+_Whare_, where; _whare'er_, wherever.
+
+_Wheep_, to fly nimbly, to jerk, penny-wheep, small-beer.
+
+_Whase_, _wha's_, whose--who is.
+
+_What reck_, nevertheless.
+
+_Whid_, the motion of a hare running but not frightened.--a lie.
+
+_Whidden_, running as a hare or coney.
+
+_Whigmeleeries_, whims, fancies, crotchets.
+
+_Whilk_, which.
+
+_Whingin'_, crying, complaining, fretting.
+
+_Whirligigums_, useless ornaments, trifling appendages.
+
+_Whissle_, a whistle, to whistle.
+
+_Whisht_, silence; _to hold one's whisht_, to be silent.
+
+_Whisk_, _whisket_, to sweep, to lash.
+
+_Whiskin' beard_, a beard like the whiskers of a cat.
+
+_Whiskit_, lashed, the motion of a horse's tail removing flies.
+
+_Whitter_, a hearty draught of liquor.
+
+_Whittle_, a knife.
+
+_Whunstane_, a whinstone.
+
+_Wi'_, with.
+
+_Wick_, to strike a stone in an oblique direction, a term in curling.
+
+_Widdifu_, twisted like a withy, one who merits hanging.
+
+_Wiel_, a small whirlpool.
+
+_Wifie-wifikie_, a diminutive or endearing name for wife.
+
+_Wight_, stout, enduring.
+
+_Willyart-glower_, a bewildered dismayed stare.
+
+_Wimple-womplet_, to meander, meandered, to enfold.
+
+_Wimplin_, waving, meandering.
+
+_Win_', to wind, to winnow.
+
+_Winnin'-thread_, putting thread into hanks.
+
+_Win't_, winded as a bottom of yarn.
+
+_Win_', wind.
+
+_Win_, live.
+
+_Winna_, will not.
+
+_Winnock_, a window.
+
+_Winsome_, hearty, vaunted, gay.
+
+_Wintle_, a staggering motion, to stagger, to reel.
+
+_Wiss_, to wish.
+
+_Withouten_, without.
+
+_Wizened_, hide-bound, dried, shrunk.
+
+_Winze_, a curse or imprecation.
+
+_Wonner_, a wonder, a contemptuous appellation.
+
+_Woo_', wool.
+
+_Woo_, to court, to make love to.
+
+_Widdie_, a rope, more properly one of withs or willows.
+
+_Woer-bobs_, the garter knitted below the knee with a couple of loops.
+
+_Wordy_, worthy.
+
+_Worset_, worsted.
+
+_Wrack_, to tease, to vex.
+
+_Wud_, wild, mad; _wud-mad_, distracted.
+
+_Wumble_, a wimble.
+
+_Wraith_, a spirit, a ghost, an apparition  exactly like a living person,
+          whose appearance is said to forbode the person's approaching
+          death; also wrath.
+
+_Wrang_, wrong, to wrong.
+
+_Wreeth_, a drifted heap of snow.
+
+_Wyliecoat_, a flannel vest.
+
+_Wyte_, blame, to blame.
+
+
+Y.
+
+_Ye_, this pronoun is frequently used for thou.
+
+_Yearns_, longs much.
+
+_Yealings_, born in the same year, coevals.
+
+_Year_, is used both for singular and plural, years.
+
+_Yell_, barren, that gives no milk.
+
+_Yerk_, to lash, to jerk.
+
+_Yerket_, jerked, lashed.
+
+_Yestreen_, yesternight.
+
+_Yett_, a gate.
+
+_Yeuk's_, itches.
+
+_Yill_, ale.
+
+_Yird, yirded_, earth, earthed, buried.
+
+_Yokin_', yoking.
+
+_Yont_, ayont, beyond.
+
+_Yirr_, lively.
+
+_Yowe_, an ewe.
+
+_Yowie_, diminutive of _yowe._
+
+_Yule_, Christmas.
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Complete Works of Robert Burns:
+Containing his Poems, Songs, and Correspondence., by Robert Burns and Allan Cunningham
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