diff options
Diffstat (limited to '18500.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 18500.txt | 63300 |
1 files changed, 63300 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/18500.txt b/18500.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..88729ee --- /dev/null +++ b/18500.txt @@ -0,0 +1,63300 @@ +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 + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORKS OF ROBERT BURNS *** + +***** This file should be named 18500.txt or 18500.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/5/0/18500/ + +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.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. |