» ■ The Complete Works (Self-Interpreting) ILLUSTRATED WITH SIXTY ETCHINGS And Wood Cuts, Maps and Facsimiles > > , T ' J ' > . VOLUME I iEiinlnirylt iFratrntity Npht Unrk ' O .» J * J > » DOS J J > i J J 3 J J J J J J J J J > J 3 3 J J J J J J ^ * ' .' ^. > J J J J J The Ellisland Edition de Luxe Limited to One Thousand Numbered Copies of which this is Number. ••• .'. C i ( '• ' . ' lie ' COPYRIGHT 1886 BY GEBBIE & COMPANY COPYRIGHT 1908 BY KARL A. ARVIDSON COPYRIGHT 1909 BY JAMES I,. PERKINS & COMPANY t 1 tit t , t t tt . •■ t c t c t ''i p^ v./ PUBLISHERS' PREFACE. ^ In May, 1787, the celebrated Dr. Moore, the author of "Zeluco," ^ in writing to Burns, says, "You ought to deal more sparingly for the future, in the provincial dialect. Why should you by using that, limit the number of your admirers to those who V ' understand the Scottish, when you could extend it to all persons of taste, who understand the English language." (\ A few years later, the poet Cowper, writing from England to a t^ friend in Scotland said, ' ' Bums loses much of his deserved praise • in this country, through our ignorance of his language. I ^ despair of meeting any Englishman who will take the pains that I have taken to understand him. His candle is light, but shut up in a dark lantern. I lent him to a sensible neighbor of mine, but the uncouth dialect spoiled all, and before he had read him through he was quite ' ramfeezled.' " Lord Jeffrey, Edinburgh, writes to Mr. Empson, I^ondon, Nov. nth, 1837 : "In the last week I have read all Burns's life and works, not without many tears for the life especially. * * * You Southern Saxons cannot value him rightly. You miss half ^ the pathos, and more than half his sweetness." ♦N. It has been a matter of regret to all English readers that Burns's " Scottish dialect" is so hard to understand. To rcjnedy this is the chief purpose 0/ Tu-B, selp-interpreting edition of THE COMPI.ETE WORKS OF ROBERT BURNS. The special qualifications for this work of interpretation are referred to in our Editors' preface. Mr. Hunter, we may say en passant, was selected by us as consulting Scotch editor, from our V knowledge of his -general scholarly ability, his long experience as the chief editor of the revised Ogilvie's Imperial Dictionary, as editor of the supplement to "Worcester's Dictionary, and more ^^ especially because of his enthusiastic love for Burns, his thor- ^^JJ^ough knowledge of his author, and last though not least, because the place of his nativity — Ayrshire, (like that of Mr. Gebbie, co-editor and publisher) — made him a?i fait in the language, manners and customs of the "land of Burns." 42r831 ^ Vi PUBLISHERS' PREFACE. The advantage of a dual editorship, in which both the mem- bers are " native and to the manner born," has been manifested at every step in the progress of the work, alike in compilation, interpretation, and elucidation generally. It is for the public to judge the result. We desire to say only one word as to the embellishment and general make-up of our Self-Interpreting edition of The Scottish Bard. The type was specially cast for this edition by The Mac- Kellar Smiths & Jordan Co., of Philadelphia. The Illustrations (over one hundred in all) have for nearly two years engaged the best etchers and engravers in America and some in Europe. The Maps, Facsimiles of MSS., &c., which are reproduced, will be interesting, being mostly copied from original MS. now in Amer- ican collections. In this connection we wish to record our thanks to Messrs. Geo. W. Childs, Ferdinand J. Dreer, and Raymond Claghom, of Philadelphia, and Robert Clarke, of Cin- cinnati, for placing at our disposal their original MSS. of Bums, When we have deemed it desirable, we have reproduced the music for the best songs, and in the George Thompson Corre- spondence we give the original music in full. In conclusion, we have made it our study to combine in this edition of Bums every feature of excellence that has hitherto been developed in connection with his name and fame, and have aimed to make it in all respects su-ch an edition as the truest lover of Bums can take to his home and say, "Now I have an edition of Bums worthy the Poet." GEBBIE AND COMPANY. EDITORS' PREFACE. In offering to the public another edition of the Works of Bums, it appears reasonable that we should state the reasons that led us to undertake the task of preparing it, and the special claims that we believe it to have on public attention. First, then, we say that up to this time the mere English- speaking reader has had no edition of Bums at his disposal enabling him adequately to understand and appreciate this, the greatest of Scottish poets. Bums's poems are, as he him- self phrases it, in the title-page to his Kilmarnock Edition, "chiefly in the Scottish dialect" — a dialect largely "an unknown tongue ' ' to most Americans and Englishmen — and this applies especially to his best and most characteristic pieces. Many editions of the Works of Bums have been published, some with and some without glossaries, and some with foot-notes at the bottom of the page, giving (or professing to give) the English equivalents of a small proportion of the Scottish words, but not one of those editions satisfies in any adequate degree, the requirements of the English reader. For the first time the English-speaking public is put in a position to understand Bums readily, to enjoy his caustic wit, his genial humor, his wondrous power of fancy, and to appreciate his unrivalled richness of diction and felicity of expression. Up to this time the American public have had to receive Burns largely on trust, or to form their estimate of h^iii from the pieces they could understand. He is now made piam in all his fulness and power. Besides the feature of interpretation, on which we largely rely for the favor of the American public in this enterprise, we desire to point out, somewhat in detail, the immense superiority in respect of completeness that the present edition possesses over all other editions of our author. The fact is unique that it has taken nearly a hundred years to gather from their hiding-places more than one-half the letters of Bums, and more than one-third of his poems and songs. There are various causes to account for this singular fact. vii viii EDITORS* PREFACE. Chief amongst them was his early death. Burns died in his thirty-seventh year. He had not only been a prolific poet, but a very active correspondent ; but he was very unsystematic. It has been urged by his early biographers, Currie, Cromek, Lockhart and Cunningham, especially, that Bums never expected that his correspondence would be published. This may be correct up to a certain period, but we are enabled to publish (for the first time) a letter which he wrote to Mr. Peter Hill, book-seller and publisher, Edinburgh (introducing Mr. Findlater),* in which he states that he was collecting (and evidently preparing for publication) some, at least, of his letters. This was in 1794. Shortly after this (in 1796) Bums died, and then it was determined to publish his works, letters and poetry, for the benefit of his family. The editorship was nobly and unselfishly undertaken by Dr. Currie, and the work carefully and successfully accomplished. This was in 1800 ; but Currie was trammeled by three or four draw-backs : First, some of the pieces to which he had access were considered too free in various ways. Second, Bums was full half a century ahead of his time in his ideas on Liberty ; and radicalism, after the commencement of the French revolution, had become unpopular in Europe, therefore, all letters, songs and poems likely to be ofiensive to a conservative government were sup- pressed. This feature will be best understood by reading " The Lincluden Vision and Song of Liberty," now, for the first time, published as a connected poem. Third, the satires and epi- grams affecting people then living were also suppressed. Fourth, the especial reason why Dr. Currie did not have more matter to select from or record, was : — the fame of Bums at the commencement of this century was not so assured as it afterwards became. To quote the words of one of his most intelligent eulogists : — "It took Scotland fully fifty years to arrive at a full appreciation of what a gigantic genius she had held in her bosom." Gradually, however, as his fame increased, people with whom he had corresponded began to look up his letters ; some retained them as precious relics, and some sold them. Then the publishers got them for publication, until when Allan Cunningham, in 1834, published his edition of the poet, he was able to boast that in his " Complete Works of Burns " he had given to the world 150 songs and poems more than Currie had given, and more than 100 more letters. The edition of Cunningham (Virtue & Co.) and Blackie's * This letter is now in the collection of Mr. Ferdinand J. Dreer, of Philadelphia, who kindly lent it to us for publication. editors' preface. IX have bee^ the editions most extensively sold in America, and Americans generally have accepted them as complete. Blackie's was published in 1846, and was a trifle more complete than Cunningham's. Since the publication of Virtue's and Blackie's editions, there have appeared Chambers', Waddell's, Smith's, Gilfillan's and Wm. Scott Douglas's. The public will understand the necessity for a new edition of Burns' s works when we inform them that ours will contain at least 100 pieces in verse and nearly 200 more letters than either Virtue's or Blackie's. Besides this, we have restored to their full text many of the poems and letters abridged by previous editors. The notes of all previous editors we have treated on the freest eclectic prin- ciple ; using only those, however, that are needful for a clearer understanding of the text and the story of the Poet's life. While we have, therefore, laid all the previous editions of Burns under contribution, comparing, weighing and adopting for ours what we thought best in each, we have selected for the basis of this edition, that of Wm. Scott Douglas, of Edin- burgh. Mr. Douglas has undoubtedly, on the principle of using the work of his predecessors, produced the most complete and satisfactory edition of the works of the Bard of Scotland, published till 1880. We have not hesitated, however, to deal freely with his work, collating it constantly with that of other editors, Cunningham, Hogg and Motherwell, Chambers, Gilfillan, Waddell and others, adopting it where we considered it best, but correcting, amplifying, condensing, deleting or otherwise modifying it as the weight of authority or our own judgment and knowledge dictated. The result is, that this is really an Eclectic Edition, comprising the best of all former editions of the works of Bums, to which we add our own commentaries and translations. Our notes and explanations are generally signed with the editor's initials, and the same mode is followed in reference to any original matter added to Mr. Douglas's notes. Where additional matter has been adopted from other editors, credit is given them ; in the case of mere incidental hints or suggestions we have not been so careful to indicate authorship. Where Mr. Douglas's notes have been modified by re-writing a portion for the sake of clearness, condensation, or correction, or by incorporating new matter in the text with the view of enriching and elucidating it, we have not, so long as the main portion of the work is Mr. D.'s, indicated our share. We publish, for the first time, enough of the celebrated and mysterious "Court of Equity" to enable our readers clearly to X editors' preface. understand the nature of this production, so frequently referred to in his correspondence. Our discovery of the connection of "The Lincluden Vision" and "The Ode to Liberty" will be found fully detailed in Vol. V. The long missing Edinburgh Journal will be found complete in Vol. II. One new special feature in this edition, (besides our method of translation) is, that each volume is complete in itself, cover- ing a certain period of the poet's life, and comprising both his rhymed and unrhymed productions, the poetrj' keeping time with the prose and the prose with the poetry ; while the intercalated biography aids in illustrating both and in turn receives illustration from them. The only exceptions to this arrangement are in the cases of his Autobiography, his Clarinda Correspondence and his Correspondence with George Thomson ; and, in each of these cases the intelligent reader will easily appreciate the reason for the distinction. By treat- ing the work in this way the life-history of the Poet helps to elucidate his productions. In our choice of a Biography for the poet, we have had no hesitation in selecting that of Alexander Smith, the author of "City Poems," "A Life Drama," etc., a poet and an Ayrshire man by birth, as being at once the clearest, fullest, most genially sympathetic, and generally interesting. The same freedom of treatment has been applied to it that has been applied to Mr. Douglas's notes ; facts have been verified, opinions and judgments weighed, and every means used to give the public at once, the fullest and fairest biography of Robert Bums. Free use has been made in this connection of the eloquent sketch of his life by Dr. Waddell, and the careful Biography by Robert Chambers. Nor have the Biog- raphies by his brother poets, Cunningham, and Hogg and Motherwell been neglected. GEO. GEBBIE. » ■ PREFACE. {To the Original Edition, Kilmarnock, 1786.) 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 Theocrites or Virgil. To the Authoi of this, these and other celebrated names (their countrymen) are, in their original languages, ' a fountain shut up, and a book sealed.' Unacquainted with the necessary requisites for commencing Poet by rule, he sings the sentiments and man- ners 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 impulses of the softer passions, it was not till very lately that the applause, perhaps the partiality, of Friendship, wakened his vanity so far as to make him think anything of his was worth showing ; and none of the following works were ever composed with a view to the press. To amuse himself with the little creations of his own fancy, amid the toil and fatigues of a laborious life ; to transcribe the various feelings, the l,oves, 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 coiirting 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 imper- tinent blockhead, obtruding his nonsense on the world ; and because he can make a shift to jingle a few doggerel Scotch rhymes together, looks upon himself as a Poet of no small consequence forsooth.' It is an observation of that celebrated Poet* — whose divine Elegies do honor to our language, our nation and our species, * Shenstone. xii ORIGINAL PREFACE. — ^that ' Humility lias 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 cer- tainly looks vipon himself as possest 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 Ferguson, 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 Subscribers, the Author retiirns his most sincere thanks. Not the mercenary bow over a counter, but the heart- throbbing gratitude of the Bard, conscious how much he is indebted 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 honor 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, to contempt and oblivion. » ■ CONTENTS OF VOLUME I. POETRY. PAGE Song — Handsome Nell i Har'ste — A Fragment 3 Song — O Tibbie, I hae seen the day , . . . , 4 Song — I dream'd I lay 7 Song — In the Character of a Ruined Farmer 8 Tragic Fragment — All villain as I am 10 The Tarbolton Lasses 12 Paraphrase of Jeremiah xv. 10 ... 13 Montgomerie's Peggy 14 The Ploughman's Life 15 The Ronalds of the Bennals 16 Song — Here's to thy health, my bonie lass 18 The Lass of Cessnock Banks 20 Song — Bonie Peggy Alison 23 Song — Mary Morison 25 Winter : A Dirge 26 A Prayer under the Pressure of Violent Anguish ..... 28 Paraphrase of the First Psalm 29 The First Six Verses of the Ninetieth Psalm versified . . 30 A Prayer in the Prospect of Death 31 Stanzas on the Same Occasion 32 Fickle Fortune :• A Fragment 34 Song — Raging Fortune : A Fragment 35 I'll go and be a Sodger 35 Song — No Churchman am I 36 My Father was a Farmer : A Ballad 38 John Barleycorn : A Ballad 40 The Death and Dying Words of Poor Mailie 43 Poor Mailie's Elegy 46 Song— The Rigs o'- Barley 48 Song — Composed in August 50 Song — My Nanie, O ! -....,.. 52 Song — Green Grow the Rashes 54 xiii xiv CONTENTS OF VOLUME I PAOB Song— " Indeed will I," quo' Findlay 56 Remorse : A Fragment 57 Epitaph on James Grieve, Laird of Boghead 58 Epitaph on William Hood, Senior 59 Epitaph on William Muir 59 Epitaph on my Ever Honoured Father 60 Ballad on the American W^ar 61 Reply to an Announcement by J. Rankine 64 Epistle to John Rankine 65 A Poet's Welcome to his Love-Begotten Daughter .... 69 Song — O Leave Novels ! 71 The Mauchline Lady : A Fragment 72 My Girl she's airy : A Fragment 73 The Belles of Mauchline -jz Epitaph on a Noisy Polemic 74 Epitaph on a Henpecked Squire 75 Epigram on the said Occasion , . . . . 75 Another do do 75 On Tam the Chapman 76 Epitaph on John Rankine 76 Lines on the Author's Death ']'] Man was made to Mourn : A Dirge 78 The Twa Herds ; or, the Holy Tulyie 81 Epistle to Davie, a Brother Poet 86 Holy Willie's Pra3-er 91 Epitaph on Holy Willie 96 Death and Dr. Hornbook 98 Epistle to J. Lapraik 105 Second Epistle to J. Lapraik iii Epistle to W^illiam Simson 115 One Night as I did Wander 123 Fragment of Song — " My Jean ! " 123 Song — Rantin, Rovin Robin 125 Elegy on the Death of Robert Ruisseaux 128 Epistle to John Goldie, in Kilmarnock 129 Third Epistle to J. Lapraik 132 Epistle to the Rev. John M'Math 134 Second Epistle to Davie 137 Song — Young Peggy Blooms 139 Song — Farewell to Ballochmyle 141 Fragment — Her Flowing Locks 142 Halloween 142 To a Mouse , 153 CONTENTS OF VOLUME I. XV _ » FAGB Epitaph on John Dove, Innkeeper 156 Epitaph for James Smith 157 Adam Armour's Prayer 157 The Jolly Beggars : A Cantata 159 Song — For a' that 178 Song — Kissin my Katie 179 The Cotter's Saturday Night 180 Address to the Deil 188 Scotch Drink 193 The Auld Farmer's New-Year Morning Salutation to nis Auld Mare, Maggie 199 The Twa Dogs 203 The Author's Earnest Cry and Prayer 213 The Ordination 221 Epistle to James Smith 227 The Vision 234 The Rantin Dog, the Daddie o't 248 Here's his Health in Water 249 Address to the Unco Guid 250 The Inventory 253 To John Kennedy, Dumfries House 256 To Mr. M'Adam, of Craigen-Gillan 257 To a Louse 259 Inscribed on a Work of Hannah More's 261 The Holy Fair 262 Song — Composed in Spring 273 To a Mountain Daisy 27^ To Ruin 27li The Lament 279 Despondency : An Ode 282 To Gavin Hamilton, Esq., Mauchline, recommending a . Boy 285 Versified Reply to an Invitation 287 Song — Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary ? 288 My Highland Lassie, O 290 Epistle to a Young Friend 293 Address of Beelzebub 298 A Dream 301 A Dedication to Gavin Hamilton, Esq 306 Versified Note to Dr. Mackenzie, Mauchline 312 The Farewell to the Brethren of St. James's Lodge, Tar- bolton 313 On a Scotch Bard, gone to the West Indies 315 XVI CONTENTS OF VOLUME L PAOB Song— Farewell to Eliza 317 A Bard's Epitaph 3^9 Epitaph for Robert Aiken, Esq 320 Epitaph for Gavin Hamilton, Esq 321 Epitaph on "Wee Johnie" 321 The Lass o' Ballochmyle 322 Motto prefixed to the Author's First Publication 325 The Court of Equity 399 PROSE. PAGB Sale of Kilmarnock Edition 326 Introductory Note .'.... 327 Introduction to Autobiography 328 Autobiography — Letter to Dr. Moore 332 Supplementary Note to Dr. Moore 350 Chrono Manua Letters Letter Letter Letter Letter Letter Letter Letter Letter Letter Letter Letter Letter Letter Letter Letter Letter Letter Letter Letter I^etter ogical Supplement to Autobiography 351 of Religious Belief by Poet's father 354 by Poet's father 358 i) to Ellison Begbie 360 2) to Ellison Begbie 361 ) to Ellison Begbie 363 ) to Ellison Begbie 364 ) to Ellison Begbie 366 the Author's father 368 ) to Sir John Whitefoord, Bart 370 ) to Mr. John Murdock, Schoolmaster, London . . 372 ) to Mr. James Bumess, Writer, Montrose .... 375 ) to Mr. James Burness, Writer, Montrose .... ill ) to Mr. James Bumess, Writer, Montrose .... 378 ) to Mr. Thomas Orr, Park, near Kirkoswald . . 380 ) to ]\Iiss Margaret Kennedy 381 ) to Mr. John Richmond, Edinburgh 382 ) to Jas. Smith, Mauchline 383 ) to Mr. John Kennedy 384 ) to Mr. Robert Muir, Kilmarnock 385 ) to Robert Aiken, Esq., Ayr 385 ) to John Ballantine, Esq., Banker, Ayr ..... 386 ) to Mr. M'Whinnie, Writer, Ayr 388 CONTENTS OF VOLUME I. xvii f » ■ ^ -' PAGE Letter (2) to Mr. John Kennedy 389 Letter (i) to John Arnot, Esq., of Dalquatswood 390 Egotisms from my own sensations 395 Letter (3) to Mr. John Kennedy 396 Letter (i) to Mr. David Brice, Glasgow 396 Letter (4) to Mr. James Bumess, Writer, Montrose .... 397 Letter (2) to Mr. John Richmond, Edinburgh . 398 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. PAINTED BY ENGRAVED BY TAGS Portrait of Burns A. Nasmyth .... J. McGofEn. Frontisp. The Rigs O'Barley Max Rosenthal. . . Max Rosenthal 48 My Nanie, O! John Faed,R.S.A. . .W. Dunbar. . . 52 The Jolly Beggars J. M. Wright J. McGoffin . . 161 The Cotter's Saturday Night.J. O. Brown S. Hollyer. ... 184 The Twa Dogs J. B. Sword .... P. Moran . . . 203 The Vision C. Stanton, A. R.S A. .J. McGoffin . . 240 To a Louse W. Small Teyssonnieres . 259 The Lass O' Ballochmyle. . .J. O. Brown .... P. Moran. . • . 322 The Birthplace of Bums . . .J. Ramage J. Godfrey. . . . 352 WOOD CUTS. Burns's Crest (On Title Page). Fac-Similes of the Inscriptions in the two volumes of the Bible presented by the Poet to " Highland Mary " Pages 292, 29J! Interior of the kitchen Mossgiel " 324 EXPIvANATION. At the head of each Poem, Song, or Letter, will be recorded, where and when it was first published. The Scotch words are printed in Italics'^ and their English meaning, in smaii type, appears at the end of each line. The Chronological Notes of the Douglas Edition, as explained in the Editor's Preface, being here mainly- used, are not signed ; all the other notes are recorded by signature, or credited to their various editors. The date of the compositions, and the age of the Poet at the period, appear at the head of each alter- nate page. it » ■ ■ ' '\ ' ' ' > POEMS AND SONGS. SONG— HANDSOME NELU Tune — " I am a man uumarried." (CURRIE, 1800.) 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 fol^ lowing composition was the first of my performances. It 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. — Common-place Book, August, 1783. O ONCE I lov'd a bonie lass, Aye, and I love her still ; And whilst that virtue warms my breast, I'll love my handsome Nell. As bonie lasses I hae seen. And mony full as braw ; gaily dressed But, for a modest gracefu' mien, The like I never saw. A bonie lass, I will confess, Is pleasant to the e' e ; «y« But, without some better qualities. She's no a lass for me. L A 2 POEMS AND SONGS. [1773. But Nelly's looks are hlythe and sweet, cheerful And .what is best oi a\ au Her feputation is complete, Arid; faii" without a flaw. She dresses ay sae clean and neat, Both decent and genteel ; And then there's something in her gait Gars ony dress look wed. makes well A gaudy dress and gcjitlc air weii-bom May slightly touch the heart ; But it's innocence and modesty That polishes the dart. 'Tis this in Nelly pleases me, 'Tis this enchants my soul ; For absolutely in my breast She reigns without controul. [Dr. Currie transcribed this song very accurately from the poet's Common-place Book, where it stands recorded under date April, 1783. Burns delighted to refer to the incident that gave rise to these . juvenile verses : — Nelly Kirkpatrick, daughter of a black- smith in the neighborhood of Mount Oliphant, inspired the song in the harvest-field, in the autumn of 1773, when he was yet under fifteen, or as some say seventeen, years old. We must refer the reader to the bard's own account of this his first love-experience, contained in the poem addressed to I\Irs. Scott of Wauchope House, and also in his autobiograpln- ; meanwhile let us note how early the power of music seems to have affected Bums. Speaking of "Nell," he says: "Among other love-inspiring qualities, she sang sweetly ; and it was her favourite reel to which I attempted giving an embodied vehicle in rhyme." In his Common-place Book, he has followed the record of it with an elaborate "criti- cism," which shews how carefully he had been training himself for lyric composition. Here is a sample : — In the second couplet of verse first "the expression is a little awkward, and the sentiment too serious." "Stanza the second I am well pleased vrith . . . and I think it conveys a fine idea of a sweet, sonsy lass."* He ' " Sonsy lass," a plump, well-conditioned lass. " Soasiness " implies good-nature. -J. H. ^T. 15.] POEMS AND SONGS. 3 condemns v*ses third aniS. fourth ; but "the thoughts in the fifth stanza come finely up to my favorite idea — a sweet, sonsy lass." He approves also of the sixth verse, "but the second and fourth lines ending with short syllables, hurts 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, and my blood sallies at the remembrance." In 17S6, Burns presented copies of some of his early pieces — and this among the rest — to Mrs. Stewart of Stair, and in that MS. the fourth verse is remodelled thus : — But Nelly's looks are blythe and sweet, Good-humoured, frank, and free ; And still the more I view them o'er. The more they captive me. Verse fifth is wanting in the Stair MS. That the poet was not satisfied with these variations is evident from the fact that he afterwards transmitted the song to Johnson for publication in its original form.] HAR'STE—K FRAGMENT. harvest Tune — "I had a horse, and I had nae mair." (Originai. Common-place Book, 1872.) Another circumstance of my life, which made very consider- able alteration on my mind and manners, was, that I spent my seventeenth* summer a good distance from home, at a noted school on a smuggling coast, to learn mensuration, surveying, dialling, &c. ... I went on with a high hand in my geometry, till the sun entered Virgo, a month which is always a carnival in my bosom; a charming ^//t'//t', who lived next door to the school, overset my trigonometr>% &c. . . . The last two nights of my stay in the country, had sleep been a mortal sin, I was innocent. . . . Song second was the ebullition of that passion which ended the fore-mentioned school hwsmess.— Autobiography. Now breezy wni's and slaughtering guns winds Bring Autumn's pleasant weather, ■' Dr. Currie and succeeding editors of Bums have printed this word " nine- teenth ;" the above extract is made from the original MS. (Dr. Currie made the correction, after due deliberation, on the authority of Gilbert Bums, who affirmed that here and elsewhere the poet had understated his age by two years.— J. H.) 4 POEMS AND SONGS. [1775. And the muircock springs on whirring wings Amang the blooming heather. Now waving crops, with yellow tops, Delight the weary fanner. An' the moon shines bright when I rove at night, To muse . . . * [The school was that of Kirkoswald, and the name of this " charming yilleiie" was Peggy Thomson. Shortly prior to the first publication of our author's poems she became the wife of a Mr. Neilson at Kirkoswald — an "old acquaintance" of Bums, "and a most worthy fellow." When we come to give the song in its fin- ished form (under date 1783), about which time, it seems, Burns experienced a renewed fit of passion for Pegg}', we shall give some particulars regarding her history. See page 50. Here we see that from the very beginning of the poet's attemjDts at song-writing, he must have a tune to promjit his musinsjs. He early laid down this rule, that "to sowth '"'^"■^tlei , . , ,. , , softly/ the tune over and over, is the readiest way to catch the inspiration and raise the bard into that glorious enthusiasm so strongly characteristic of old Scotch poetry."] SONG— O TIBBIE, I HAE SEEN THE DAY. Isabella Tu7ie — " Invercauld's Reel, or Strathspey." {Johnson's Museum, 178S. Compared w^th C.-P. Book, 1872.) Chor. — O Tibbie, I liae seen the day, Ye wadna been sae shy ; would not For laik o' gear ye lightly me, lack cash sUght But, trowth, I care na by. don't care Yestreen I met you on the moor, yester-eve Ye spak na, but gaed by like stoure;t *In the extended version, printed p. 50 this line reads "To muse upon my charmer," but in the Common-place Book, after "To muse," a name, supposed to be Jean Armour, is written in cypher, or short-hand. If this supposition is correct, it only shews what "charmer " was uppermost in the poet's mind when he made the entry in August, 1785. tYou spoke not, but went past like dust driven by the wind. SvT. 17.] POEMS AND SONGS. 5 f \^ geek at me because I'm poor, toss your head But fie7it a hair care I. deuce O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &:c. When comin hame on Sunday last, Upon the road as I cam past. Ye snufft an gae your head a cast — gave But trowth I care' t na by. in truth O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &:c. I doubt na, lass, but ye may think, Because ye hae the name o' clink^ cash That ye can please me at a wink. Whene'er ye like to try. O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &c. But sorrow tak him that's sae mean, Altho' his pouch o' coin were clean, pocket Wha follows ony saucy quean^ wench- That looks sae proud and high. O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &c. Altho' a lad were e'er sae smart. If that he want the yellow dirt^ gold Ye' 11 cast your head anither airt^ direction And answer him fu' dry. O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &c. But if he hae the name o' gear^ money Ye' 11 fasten to him like a brier, Tho' hardly he, for sense or lear^ learning Be better than the kye. kine O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &c. But, Tibbie, lass, tak my advice: Your daddie's gear maks you sae nice; 6 POEMS AND SONGS. [1775- The deil a ane wad spier your price, would ask Were ye as poor as I. O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &c. There lives a lass beside yon park, I'd rather hae her in her sark^ have chemise Than you \vi' a' your thousand mark ; * That gars you look sae high. makes O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &c. [A little controversy has arisen regarding the date of this song. In the poet's Glenriddell notes, he expressly says of it: — "This song I composed about the age of seventeen." Mrs. Begg, on the other hand (who, by the way, was only five years old when her brother was seventeen), insisted that the Tibbie flif the song was Isabella Stein, of Tarbolton Parish. In a note to the present writer, she says: — "Tibbie Stein lived at Little Hill, a farm march- ing with that of Lochlea : that the song was written upon her was well known in the neighborhood, no one doubting it." With all deference, we are inclined to adhere to the poet's direct statement, and regard this as a Mount Oliphant incident, following immediately after the summer he spent at Kirkoswald. We feel greatly strengthened in this opinion by a corresponding record of Burns, the correctness of which has also been much controverted by his brothers and sisters. It is this: — "In my seventeenth year {i. e., 1775, two years before the Lochlea period), to give mj^ man- ners 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 hour I repent, in absolute defiance of his com- mands." t The second stanza and the closing one are both wanting in Johnson's Museum. They are inserted here from the Common- place Book. Dr. Currie's version of the concluding stanza reads thus: — There lives a lass in yonder park, I wadna gie her in her sark For thee, wi' a' thy thousan' mark; Ye needna look sae high.] ♦The mark was a Scottish coin worth 13J. 4^. Scots, or 11. lyid. sterling, or 26% cents. ■f- There is some question regarding the chronology here, and most commenta tors place the school at Tarbolton.— J. H. ,^.17.3 POEMS AND SONGS. 7 SONG— I DREAM' D I LAY. (Johnson's Museum, 17SS.) These two stanzas I composed when I was seventeen, and are among the oldest of my printed pieces. — Glenriddcll Notes in Cromek. I dream' D I lay where flowers were springing Gaily in the sunny beam; lyist'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 anns were warring, O'er the swelling drumlie wave. muddy Such was my life's deceitful morning, Such the pleasures I enjoy' d: But lang or noon, loud tempests storming, ere A my flowery bliss destroy' d. au 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 — many I bear a heart shall support me still. [There can be no doubt that this production was suggested to the young lyrist by his admiration of Mrs. Cockburn's song, "I've seen the smiling of Fortune beguiling," which, about the year 1764, found its way into miscellaneous collections of song. It appeared in one of these published in that year, called The Black- bird ; and also in a like miscellany entitled The Chariner, and in another named The Lark (both of the latter dated 1765). Any one of them may have been that "Select Collection" which, he tells us, was his vade mecutn before the Bumess family removed from Mount Oliphant. The poet again and again reverts to the last four lines of this song, as if the conning them over yielded him some comfort. "At the close of that dreadful period" — his distress at Irvdne— he 8 POEMS AND SONGS. [1776. adopted these lines as the opening of a little "sang to soothe hig misery," only altering line third to suit his altered circiunstances, tbus: of mistress, friends and wealth bereaved me. But the embrj'o minstrel, in composing the jiresent song, had r-(rs. Cockburn's Flowers of the Forest rather too much in liis eye; i'or he not only copied her ideas, but her very expressions. For her "silver streams shining in the sunny beams," we have here the tyro's " crj'stal stream" falling "gaily in the sunny beam." The river Tweed of Mrs. Cockburu "grows drumly an The sun he is sunk in the west, All creatures retired to rest, While here I sit, all sore beset. With sorrow, grief, and woe : And it's O, fickle Fortune, O 1 The prosperous man is asleep, Nor hears how the whirlwinds sweep ; But Misery and I must watch The surly tempest blow ; And it's O. fickle Fortune, O ! ^T. 1 8.] POEMS AND SONGS. » There lies the dear partner of my breast; Her cares for a moment at rest: Must I see thee, my youthful pride, Thus brought so very low! And it's O, fickle Fortune, O! There lie my sweet babies in her arms; No anxious fear their little hearts alanns; But for their sake my heart jioes ache, With many a bitter throe: And it's O, fickle Fortune, O! I once was by Fortune carest: I once could relieve the distrest: Now life's poor support, hardly eam'd, My fate will scarce bestow: And it's O, fickle Fortune, O! No comfort, no comfort I have! How welcome to me were the grave! But then my wife and children dear — O, whither would they go! And it's O, fickle Fortune, 0! * O whither, O whither shall I turn! All friendless, forsaken, forlorn! For, in this world. Rest or Peace I never more shall know! And it's O, fickle Fortune, O! [The original of this early production is in the possession of William Nelson, Esq., Edinburgh. It is a stray leaf from a col- lection formerly known as the Stair MS., now dissevered and scattered abroad. The " ruined farmer " here is undoubtedly meant as a presentment of the author's father bravely struggling to weather out his hard fate at Mount Oliphaut. As a pathetic 10 POEMS AND SONGS. [1777. dirge, it is the best illustration of the following passage in the poet's autobiography : — " The farm proved a ruinous bargain. . . . My father was advanced in life when he married. I was the eldest of seven children, and he, worn out by early hardship, 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 expenses," &c.] TRAGIC FRAGMENT. (From the Poet's MS. in the Monument at Edinburgh, WITH Heading from Cromek, 1808.) In my early years, nothing less would serve tfle than court- ing the Tragic Muse. I was, I think, about eighteen or nine- teen when I sketched the outlines of a tragedy forsooth ; but the bursting of a cloud of family misfortunes, which had for some time threatened us, prevented my farther progress. In those days I never wrote down anything ; so, except a speech or two, the whole has escaped my memory. The following, which I most distinctly remember, was an exclamation from a great character — great in occasional instances of generosity, and daring at times in villanies. He is supposed to meet with a child of misery, and exclaims to himself — All villain as I am — a damned wretch, A hardened, stubborn, unrepenting sinner, Still my heart melts at human wretchedness; And with sincere but unavailing sighs I view the helpless children of distress: With tears indignant I behold the oppressor Rejoicing in the honest man's destruction. Whose unsubmitting heart was all his crime.— Ev'n you, ye hapless crew! I pity you; Ye, whom the seeming good think sin to pity; Ye poor, despised, abandoned vagabonds,, Whom Vice, as usual, has tum'd o'er to ruiiu <^T. 19.] POEMS AND SONGS. It Oh ! but for friends and interposing Heaven, I had been driven forth like you forlorn, The most detested, worthless wretch among- you! O injured God! Thy goodness has endow' d me With talents passing most of my compeers, Which I in just proportion have abused — As far surpassing other common villains As Thou in natural parts has given me more. [Notwithstanding the author's own authority for classing the foregoing with his very earliest efforts in poetical composition, it seems to have undergone revision and amendment at a later period. The copy we print from is perhaps a stray leaf of the Common-place Book, or manuscript collection of his early pieces, referred to by Alexander Smith as having been presented by Burns to Mrs. Dunlop. It varies somewhat from the copy inserted in the original Common-place Book now at Greenock. The version we adopt has the following heading — A Fragment in the Hour of Remorse, on Seeing a Fellow-Creature in Misery, whom I had once known in Better Days. The "human wretchedness" deplored in this pathetic soliloquy was that of the suffering household at Mount Oliphant, which the poet has so touchingly recorded in his autobiography. We have in these lines a glance at the tyrant factor, and his "insolent threatening epistles, which used to set us all in tears," — With 'tears indignant I behold the oppressor Rejoicing in the honest man's destruction, Whose unsubmitting heart was all his crime, in which last line we discern the "stubborn, ungainly integrity" of the poet's noble father. The speaker's sympathy for "poor, de- spised, abandoned vagabonds," corresponds in spirit with that pas- sage in the Common-place Book, of date March, 1784, where he in- troduces this Fragment. Cromek, in 1808. first published the piece ; but his copy wants the five closing lines, which accordingly we infer were added by the poet in 1784. Cromek's version was printed from a copy found among the poet's papers, headed with the introductory narrative prefixed to the text. It is curious to find Burns thus early attempting dramatic composition ; but it is certain that William Bumess had a few of Shakespeare's plays among the books on his shelf at Mount Oliphant.] 12 POEMS AND SONGS. [1778. THE TARBOIvTON LASSES. (Chambers, 1851.) If ye gae up to yon hill-tap^ go hiu-top Ye' 11 there see bonie Peggy; Slie kens her father is a laird^ knows land-ovmer And she forsooth' s a Icddy. ia<^ There Sophy tight, a lassie bright, Besides a handsome fortune: WJia canna win her in a night, ^ who cannot Has little art in courtin. Gae down by Faile,* and taste the ale, And tak a look o' Mysie ; Mana She's dour and din^ a deil within, suiien saiiow But aiblins she may please ye. hapiy If she be shy, her sister try. Ye' 11 may be fancy Jenny; perhaps If ye' 11 dispense wi' want o' sense-— She kens hersel she's bonie. knows As ye gae up by yon hillside, Speer m for bonie Bessy ; caii and inquire She'll gie ye a bcck^ and bid ye light, curtsey And handsomely address ye. There's few sae bonie, nane sa guid^ none so good In a' King George' dominion; If ye should doubt the truth o' this — It's Bessy's ain opinion! own ♦Hamlet of Faile, near Tarbolton. — J. H. 3!rC. 20.] POEMS AND SONGS. 13 [Here we have a little of the "satirical seasoning" referred to by David Sillar, in note to next piece, and of which we have already seen a good sample in his address to "Saucy Tibbie." These verses, however, can hardly be considered as a song, and — as Chambers has observed — they are strikingly inferior to the poet's average efforts. It is rather singular that Chambers does not state where he got these lines, and on what grounds he became satisfied of their authenticity.] AH, WOE IS ME, MY MOTHER DEAR. Paraphrase 0/ Jeremiah, 15th Chap., loth verse. « (G1.ENRIDDELL MSS., 1874.) Ah, woe is me, my Mother dear! A man of strife ye've born me: For sair contention I maun bear : sore must They hate, revile, and scorn me; I ne'er could lend on bill or bajid., bond That five per cent, might blest me ; have biest And borrowing, on the tither hand, other The deHl a ane wad trust me. d— laonewoww Yet I, a corn-denied wight, penniless By Fortune quite discarded; Ye see how I am, day and night, By lad and lass blackguarded! [Bums in 1785 records the remark — " 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 respects Again, referring to his early boyhood, he says in his autobiography: — "At those years, I was by no means a favorite with anybody." David Sillar, speaking of Bums in 1781, says: — "His social disposition easily procured him acquaintances ; but a certain satirical seasoning, while it set the rustic circle in a roar, was not unaccompanied by its kin- dred attendant, — suspicious fear. I recollect hearing his neighbours 14 POEMS AND SONGS. [ijjg, observe he had a great deal to say for himself, but that they suspected his principles. He wore the only tied hair in the parish ; and in the church, his plaid, which was of a particular colour, I think fillcmot* was wrapped in a particular manner round his shoulders." The poet's account of himself in the text has suggested the above quotations ; but we feel rather at a loss to fix the particular period of composition. The verses stand re- corded in the Glenriddell volume at Liverpool, in the poet's autograph, without any indication of date ; but it may be assumed that he would be at least twenty-one years old before he could be concerned in "bills and bonds." A corrupt copy of the verses occurs in the Ettrick Shepherd's Memoir of Burns, 1834, where they are entitled "Stanzas com- posed while sitting between the stilts of the plough." It seems that Burns had inscribed this paraphrase from Jeremiah on the fly-leaf of his own copy of Fergusson's Poems. That relic is now in the possession of J. T. Gibson-Craig, Esq., Edinburgh. Hogg may have seen that production, and quoted the words from memory. The words paraphrased are as follows : — "Woe is me, my mother, thou hast bom me a man of strife, and a man of conten- tion to the whole earth. I have neither lent on usury, nor men have lent to me on usury; yet every one of them doth curse me."] MONTGOMERIE'S PEGGY. (Cromek, 1808.) Altho' my bed were in yon miiir, Amang the heather, in my plaidie; Yet happy, happy would I be, Had I my dear Montgomerie's Peggy. 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 Montgomerie's Peggy. "Were I a Baron proud and high. And horse and servants waiting ready; Then a' "^twad gie o' joy to me, — 'twould giv« oi The sharirCt^'Ca. Montgomerie's Peggy, sharing of it •A yellow-brown colour — irova. feuille morie, a dead leaf. ^T. 21.] . POEMS AND SONGS. 15 • [Speaking of the earlier portion of the seven years he spent in Tarbolton Parish (1777 to 1784), the poet says he felt as much pleasure in being in the secret of half the amours in the parish, as ever did Premier in knowing the intrigues of half the courts in Europe. " Montgomerie's Peggy," he tells us, was a deity of his own for six or eight months. ' ' I began the affair, ' ' he says, "merely in a gaiete de coeur, or, to tell the truth (what would 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." Mrs. Begg, in her notes regarding this affair, says: — "The lady was housekeeper at Coils- field House ; my brother Robert had met her frequently at Tar- both Mill ; they sat in the same church, and contracted an in- timacy together ; but she was engaged to another before ever they met. So, on her part, it was nothing but amusement, and on Burns' part, little more, from the way he speaks of it."] (The Rev. Geo. Gilfillan, in his edition, says she became Mrs. Derbi- shire, and lived in London.— J. H.) THE PLOUGHMAN'S UFE. (Cromek, 1808.) As I was a- wand' ring ae morning in spring, one I heard a young ploughman sae sweetly to sing; sa And as he was singin', thir words he did say, — these There's nae life like the ploughman's in the month o' sweet May. no lark from The lav' rock in the morning she'll rise frae her nest. And mount i' the air wi' the dew on her breast. And wi' the merry ploughman she'll whistle and sing, And at night she'll return to her nest back again. [Gilbert Bums expressed to Cromek a strong doubt regarding his brother's authorship of these lines, as also of some other pieces found in his handwriting, and included with the Reliques of the Poet ; but as the authorship of the " Bonie Muirhen " — one of the pieces referred to — has been since clearly traced to Bums, we do not feel at liberty to reject the lines in the text.] 16 POEMS AND SONGS. I178CX THE RONALDS OF THE BENNALS. (Chambers, 185 i.) In Tarbolton, ye ken^ there are proper young men, know And proper young lasses and a', man; But ken ye the Ronalds that live in the Bennals, They carry the gree frae them a',* man. Their father's a laird^ and weel he can spare' t, land-owner Braid money to tocher them a', man; broad dower To proper young men, he'll clink in the hand count Gowd guineas a hundred or twa, man. gold There's ane they cd' Jean, I'll warrant ye've seen can As bonie a lass or as braw^ man ; finely dressed But for sense and guid taste she'll vie wi' the best, And a conduct that beautifies a', man. The charms o' the min' ^ the langer they shine, mind The mair admiration they draw, man; more While peaches and cherries, and roses and lilies, They fade and they wither awa, man. If ye be for Miss Jean, tak this Jrae a/rien^ fromafnend A hint o' a rival or twa, man; The Laird o' Blackbyre wad gang through the fire. If that wad entice her awa, man. would go The Laird o' Braehead has been on his speed. For mair than a towmond or twa, man; twelvemonths The Laird o' the Ford will straught o7i a board^ be laid out If he canna get her at a', man. cannot ^^^ *Bcar the palm from them alL «T. 22.} POEMS AND SONGS. 17 Then Anna comes in, the pride o' her kin, The boast of our bachelors a', man: Sae sonsy and sweet, sae fully complete, She steals our affections awa, man. buxom If I should detail the pick and the wale O' lasses that live hereawa^ man. The fail' t wad be mine if they didna shine The sweetest and best o' them a , man. choice hereabout fault I lo'e her mysel, but daretia weel tell, dare not well My poverty keeps me in awe, man; For making o' rhymes, and working at times, Does little or naething at a\ man. ^nothing at all Yet I zvadna choose to let her refuse, Nor haeH in her power to say na, man: For though I be poor, unnoticed, obscure, My stomach's as proud as them a', man. would not have it Though I canna ride in weel-booted pride, And flee o'er the hills like a craw^ man, I can haud up my head wi' the best o' the breed, Though fluttering ever so braw^ man. crow hold fine My coat and my vest, they are Scotch o' the best, O' pairs o' guid breeks I hae twa, man; breeches have And stockings and pumps to put on my stumps. And ne'er a wrang steek in them a', man. stitch My sa7'ks they are few, but five o' them new, Twal' hundred,* as white as the snaw, man, A ten-shillings hat, a Holland cravat; There are no mony poets sae braw^ man. shirts fine ♦Woven in a reed of 1200 divisions, and therefore considerably coarser than the " 1700 linen " spoken of in Tarn o' Shunter. L B 18 POEMS AND SONGS. [1780. 1,1/- 7 , 7 •, • friends well sup- | never nad jreens wccL stockit i7i means, pHed with j To leave nie a hundred or twa, man : „ ^ ' ' well- ^ Nae weel-tocher' d aunts, to wait on their drants^ dower-d [• And wish them in hell for it a', man. whims j I never was camtie for hoarding o' money, prudent Or claiightin V together at a', man ; grasping it I've little to spend, and naething to lend, But deevil a shilling I awe^ man. owe [The Bennals is a farm in the western part of the parish of Tar- bolton, near Afton Lodge, about five miles from Lochlea. The two young women spoken of in this piece were the predominant belles of the district; being good-looking, fairly educated, and the children of a man reputed wealthy. Gilbert Burns wooed the elder sister, Jeanie Ronald, who, after a lengthened correspondence, refused him on account of his poverty. She became the wife of'john Reid, a farmer at Langlands, not far from the Bennals. The younger sister, Annie, appears to have taken the poet's fancy a little; but he was too proud to afford her a chance of refusing him. A few years after this period, one of the bard's letters gives us a glimpse of the "ups and downs of life" in connection with the Ronalds of the Bennals. Writing to his brother William in November, 1789, he says: — " The only Ayrshire news that I remem- ber in which I think you will be interested, is that Mr. Ronald is bankrupt. You will easily guess, that from his insolent vanity in his sunshine of life, he will feel a little retaliation from those who thought themselves eclipsed by him." Chambers has neglected to state whence he derived these verses ; he merely indicates that they had appeared fugitively somewhere before he gave them a fixed place among the author's works. The small lairdships referred to in the fifth and sixth verses can- not be found in the Ordnance Map of Tarbolton parish; but more than one "Braehead" appears in the neighbouring parishes. *'Ford" may be a contraction of Failford, near Tarbolton.] SONG— HERE'S TO THY HEAI.TH. (Johnson's Museum, 1796.) Here's to thy health, my bonie lass, Gude night and joy be wi' thee; /ET. 22.] POEMS AND SONGS. 19 » I'll colne 7iae mair to thy bower-door, no more To tell thee that \ lo'e thee. love diiina think, my pretty pink, do not Bnt I can live withont thee: 1 vow and swear I dinna care, How lang ye look about ye. Thon'rt ay sae free informing- me, Thou hast nae mind to marry; I'll be as free informing thee, Nae time Jiae I to tarry: have I ke7i thy freens Vry ilka means know friends every Frac wedlock to delay thee; from Depending on some higher chance, But fortune may betray thee. I ken they scorn my low estate. But that does never grieve me; For I'm as free as any he; man Smd' siller will relieve me. lutie I'll count my health my greatest wealth, Sae lang as I'll enjoy it; I'll fear nae scanty I'll bode nae want, scarcity forbode As lang's as I get employment. But far off fowls hae feathers fair, And, ay until ye try them, Tho' they seem fair, still have a care; They may prove as bad as I am. But at twal at night, when the moon shines bright, My dear, I'll come and see thee; For the man that loves his mistress weel, Nae travel makes him weary. [Against our own instincts, we were at one time disposed to ex- clude this production from Burns' collected pieces, in deference to the dictum of his sister, Mrs. Bcs^.y^, who pronounced it to be one of those familiar ditties connnonly sunj^ at rural firesides before his efforts in that way were known. The poet sent the song, along 20 POEMS AND SONGS. [1780. with its very sprightly melody, to Johnson at some unascertained period; but it did not appear in the Museum till the year of the author's death, and his name is there attached to it. The words are not found in any collection of date prior to their publication in Johnson's work; and as Mrs. Begg would be no more than ten years old when, as we conjecture, this song was composed by her brother, she might naturally, at some after period, mistake it for an old song. It is in every respect characteristic of Burns' manner and sentiments in early manhood; and the strathspey tune to which it is set, suggests his early dancing-school experiences, and the occasional balls of the Tarbolton Bachelors.] THE LASS OF CESSNOCK BANKS.* (A1.DINE Ed., 1839.) On Cessnock banks a lassie dwells,^ Could I describe her shape and mien; Our lasses a' she far excels, An' she has twa sparkling rogneish een, eya She's sweeter than the morning dawn, When rising Phcebus first is seen; And dew-drops twinkle o'er the lawn; An' she has twa sparkling rogueish een. She's stately like yon youthful ash, That grows the cowslip braes between, heighti And drinks the stream with vigour fresh; An' she has twa sparkling rogueish een. She's spotless like the flow' ring thorn, With flow'rs so white and leaves so green, When purest in the dewy mom; An' she has twa sparkling rogueish een. *Cessnock " Water," flows from the southeast, passes close by Mauchline and Mossgiel, and falls into the Irvine about midway between Kilmarnock and Galston.— J. H. ^T. 22.] POEMS AND SONGS. 21 Her looks are like the vernal May, When ev'ning Phoebus shines serene; While birds rejoice on every spray; An' she has twa sparkling rogueish een. 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 rogueish een. Her forehead's like the show'ry bow. When gleaming sunbeams intervene And gild the distant mountain's brow; An' she has twa sparkling rogueish een. Her cheeks are like yon crimson gem, The pride of all the flowery scene, Just opening on its thorny stem; An' she has twa sparkling rogueish een. Her bosom's like the nightly snow, When pale the morning rises keen; While hid the munn'ring streamlets flow; An' she has twa sparkling rogueish een. Her lips are like yon cherries ripe, yondw That sunny walls from Boreas screen; They tempt the taste and chann the sight; An' she has twa sparkling rogueish een. Her teeth are like a flock of sheep, With fleeces newly washen clean; That slowly mount the rising steep; An' she has twa sparkling rogueish een. 22 POEMS AND SONGS. [1780 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 rogueish een. 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 rogueish een. 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 rogueish een. [This must have been composed just before the poet's short sojourn in the town of Irvine. He was passionately in love with the subject of this poem, or "Song of Similes," as it has been called. Her name was Ellison Begbie, her father being a small farmer in Galstou parish, and she herself at that time in service with a family who resided near Cessnock water, about two miles northeast from Lochlea. Burns has made no distinct reference to her in his autobiography, although she seems to have been the heroine of a few of his most admired lyrics. His sister, Mrs. Begg, about thirty years ago, first revealed the fact that the four love-letters to "My dear E." in Currie's first edition (and which were withdrawn from subsequent issues of that work) were addressed to Ellison Begbie, who, after some intimacy and correspondence, rejected his suit, and soon married another lover. Referring to his desponding condition at Irvine, he writes : — ' ' To crown my distress, a belle-fille whom I adored, and who had pledged her soul to meet me in the field of matri- mony, jilted me with peculiar circumstances of mortification." This misleading allusion, viewed in connection with the letters he addressed to her, and with what he had written in his Common- place Book about " Moutgomerie's Peggy," created much confu- sion in the minds of the poet's annotators, until Mrs. Begg set these matters right. As might be predicated of one who could inspire sentiments and imagery like those contained in these verses, the subject of them is described by the poet's sister as having been a superior person, and a general favourite in her neighbourhood. Bums himself, in ^T. 22.] ^ POEMS AND SONGS. 23 one of his letters, thus addresses her : — " 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." Cromek, in 1808, first made the world acquainted with this production, in a somewhat imperfect form. He traced out the subject of it as a married lady resident in Glasgow, and from her own lips noted down the words to the extent of her recol- lection. Pickering's version, here given, was printed from the poet's manuscript, recovered from some other source. A whole stanza is devoted to each of her charms, commencing with her ' ' twa sparkling rogueish een, ' ' and embracing every personal and mental grace. At verse six he comes to her hair, and there- after in succession he descants on her forehead, her cheeks, her bosorn, her lips, her teeth, her breath, her voice, and lastly her ■mind. At verse nine, through an awkward inadvertency in transcribing, he sets down "Her teeth" instead of "Her bosom," to which the similitude used very appropriately applies ; and the teeth of his charmer have full justice done them in stanza eleven. This slip of the pen on the transcriber's part we have here cor- rected. In the MS. the author has directed the words to be sung to the tune of "If he be a butcher neat and trim" — what- ever that air may be ; which confirms his own statement that he could never compose a lyric without croo fling a melody in his mind, to aid his inspiration and regulate the rhythm of his verses.] SONG— BONIE PEGGY ALISON. Tune — "The Braes o' Balquhidder." . (Johnson's Museum, 1788.) CAor. — And I'll kiss thee yet, yet, And I'll kiss thee o'er again; And I'll kiss thee yet, yet, My bonie Peggy Alison. ///& care and fear when thou art near, each I ever mair defy them, O ! 24 POEMS AND SONGS. [1780. Young kings upon their hansel throne * Are no sae blest as I am, O ! And I'll kiss thee yet, yet, &:c. When in my arms, wi' a' thy charms, I clasp my countless treasure, O ! I seek iiac mair o' Heaven to share no more Than sic a moment's pleasure, O ! such And I'll kiss thee yet, yet, &:c. And by thy coi sae bonie blue, eyes so I swear I'm thine for ever, O! And on thy lips I seal my vow, And break it shall I never, O ! And I'll kiss thee yet, yet, &c. fThis and the song whicli immediately follows {Mary JMorison) long went wandering in search of the li\nng originals ; but no fair damsels nor sonsie lasses in the parish of Tarbolton, bearing such names, were ever heard of The poet, in sending the latter song to George Thomson, expressly told him it was "a juvenile produc- tion; " and as he at the same time admitted that all his earlier love-songs were the breathings of real passion — a legend of his heart being inscribed on each of them — a "heroine-hunt" for the inspirers of them was the eventful result. Gilbert Burns was applied to for information regarding Mary Morison, and he replied that she was also the subject of some light verses, beginning, "And I'll kiss thee yet." This clue suggested to the present writer that the poet had simply disguised these juvenile produc- tions by altering the names a little. Mrs. Begg's information re- garding her brother's earnest passion for the Lass of Cessnock Banks — Ellison, or Alison Begbie, by name — started the natural idea that Burns must have attempted to weave her name into some snatch of song. Her surname, however, being so very prosaic and untunable, what was a poor poet to do? His object could be attained only by compromise, and that might be accom- plished to some extent by transposing Alison Begbie into " Peggy Alison." Let us take for granted that such was the case with * "Hansel" means fhe first-fruit of an achievement, or of a particular field, or season ; hence a gift at some particular season, at the New Year, or on some particular oc.-asion, is so called. The term "maiden throue" would explain the poet's phras« bere. — J. H. <^. 22.] ^ POEMvS AND SONGS. 25 the song in our text, and then it follows that Ellison Begbic was also the inspirer of its charming companion-song, Mary Morison. The character of "My dear E," is displayed in every line of it: — A thought ungentle canna be The thought of Peggy KHison. Only the two latter stanzas of the text, with the chorus, are given in Johnson's publication. The opening verse is from Cromek (1808). Stephen Clarke, the musical editor of the Museum, inscribed on the printer's copy of the music his feelings in these words: — "I am charmed with this song almost as much as the lover is with Peggy Alison."] SONG— MARY MORISON. (CURRIE, 1800.) Mary, at thy window be, It is the wish'd, the trystcd hour ! appointed Those smiles and glances let me see, That make the miser's treasure poor : How blythely wad I bide the StOUre^ endure the turmoil A weary slave frae sun to sun, from Could I the rich reward secure. The lovely Mary Morison. Yestreen^ when to the trembling string yester-even The dance gaed thro' the lighted ha', went To thee my fancy took its wing, I sat, but neither heard nor saw: Tho' this was fair, and that was braw^ gay And yon the toast of a' the town, 1 sigh'd, and said amang them a', "Ye are nd Mary Morison." uot Oh, Mary, canst thou wreck his peace, Wha for thy sake wad gladly die ? would Or canst thou break that heart of his, WJiase only faut is loving thee? whose fault 26 POEMS AND SONGS. [1781. If love for love thou wilt na gie^ not give At least be pity to me shown; A thought ungentle canna be cannot The thought o' Mary Morison." [The long note to the preceding song will help to shorten this one, as it is held to apply to the same subject. The "tremb- ling string," and the "I'ghted ha'" of the second stanza could in reality refer only to the earnest efforts of a poor fiddler at a village practising on the sanded floor of some school-room ; yet see how the poet's fancy can "take its wing," and exalt the commonest object. Hazlitt says, in respect to this lyric, — "Of all the productions of Burns, the pathetic and serious love- songs which he has left behind him, in the manner of old ballads, are perhaps those which take the deepest and most lasting hold of the mind. Such are the lines to 'Mary Morison,' those beginning ' Here's a health to ane I loe dear ; ' and the song ' O my love is like a red, red rose.' " The tune to which the poet composed this song was "Duncan Davidson " which is capable of much pathos when performed in slow time. However, that air having been already well-suited with "canty" words, the late John Wilson, vScottish vocalist, conferred an accession of popularity to JMary IlTorisott by wedding her to "The Miller," a beautiful tune of the same character as that selected by Burns.] WINTER: A DIRGE. (K11.MARNOCK Ed., 1786.) As I am what the men of the world, if they knew of such a man, would call a whimsical mortal, I have various sources of pleasure and enjoyment which are in a manner peculiar to myv«elf, 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, favorable to every thing great and noble. There is scarcely any earthly <5;t. 22.] . POEMS AND SONGS. 27 object gives me more — I don't know if I should call it plea- sure, but something which exalts me, something which enrap- tures me, than to walk in the sheltered side of a wood or high plantation in a cloudy winter day, and hear a stonny wind howling among the trees and raving o'er the plain. It is my best season for devotion; my mind is rapt up in a kind of enthusiasm to Him who, in the pompous language of Scripture, ' ' walks on the wings of the wind. ' ' In one of these seasons, just after a tract of misfortunes, I com- posed the following song, — Tune, " M'Pherson's Farewell." — • Commo7i-place Book, April, 178^. The wintry west extends his blast, And hail and rain does blaw; Mow Or, the stonny north sends driving forth The blinding sleet and snaw: snow While, tumbling brown, the burn comes down, rivuiet And roars frae bank to brae; from height And bird and beast in covert rest, And pass the heartless day. "The sweeping blast, the sky o'ercast,"* 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. to be resigrned *Dr. Young.— i?. B. 28 POEMvS AND SONGvS. [1781. [We concur with Chambers in assigning the date of this piece to the time of the poet's residence in Irvine, during the winter of 1781-82. Writing in April, 17S4, the author tells us that he com- posed it at the period referred to in his head-note to the fol- lowing Prayer, "just after a tract of misfortunes." This corre- sponds with the tone of his melancholy letter to his father, written from Irvine, and also with what he narrates in his autobiography, of his partner in trade having robbed him, and his flax-dressing shop, taking fire on New Year's morning, 1782, by which he was left "like a true poet, not worth a sixpence."] A PRAYER UNDER THE PRESSURE OF VIOLENT ANGUISH. (Edinburgh Ed., 1787.) 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 bodj^ too, was attacked by that most dreadful distemper, a hypochondria or confirmed melancholy; in this wretched state, the recollec- tion 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! /5JT. 23.] ^ POEMS AND SONGS. 29 • But, if I must afflicted be, To suit some wise design; Then man my soul with firm resolves, To bear and not repine ! [The composition of these verses must be assigned to the same period as that of the foregoing. Writing in December, 1787, to his Irvine acquaintance, Richard Brown, the poet thus remarked: '—"Do you recollect the 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 de- rived that idea of my own pieces which encouraged me to en- deavour at the character of a poet."] PARAPHRASE OF THE FIRST PSALM. (Edinburgh Ed., 1787.) 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. 30 POEMS AND SONGS. [1781. 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. [This and the Psalm immediately follo^\•ing e^^dently belong to the same period of the author's life as the two preceding pieces.] THE FIRST SIX VERSES OF THE NINETIETH PSAEM VERSIFIED. (Edinburgh Ed., 1787.) 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 says' t, "Ye sons of men, Return ye into nought ! ' ' «;t. 23.] f POEMS AND SONGS. 31 Thou layest tliem, with all their cares, In everlasting sleep ; As with a flood. Thou tak'st them ofif 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. A PRAYER IN THE PROSPECT OF DEATH. (Kilmarnock Ed., 17S6.) 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. 32 POEMS AND SONGS. [1781. Where with intention I have err'd, No other plea I have, But, Thou art good; and Goodness still Delighteth to forgive. [This composition appears, under the date of August, 1784, in the Common-place Book, as "A Prayer when fainting fits and other alarming symptoms of a pleurisy, or some other dangerous disorder, which indeed still threaten me, first put nature on the alarm." These words distinctly point back to a date more or less remote ; consequently those editors who have assumed this Prayer and its relative prose passage to apply to the Mossgiel period of the author's life are at fault in their chronology. The verses are marked by extraordinary vigour, and have been much criticised by those who will be content with no religious poetry, except such as deals in substitutional salvation.] (Chambers gives the date as 17S4. The style of composition is very far superior to and more finished than anything in his Mount Oliphant period. It seems to me to be quite in keeping with his twenty-fifth year. The second and third stanzas es- pecially are not the expressions of a mere youth. It was at Lochlea, says Gilbert Burns, that "the foundation was laid of certain habits in my brother's character, which afterwards became but too prominent." This poem was written, then, at least a considerable time after he went to Lochlea, and quite probably when he was at Mossgiel. — ^J. H.) STANZAS, ON THE SAME OCCASION. (Edinburgh Ed., 1787.) Why am I loth to leave this earthly scene? Have I so found it full of pleasing channs — 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. ^T. 23.] ^ POEMS AND SONGS. 33 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 ! [This composition is set down in the poet's Common-place Book immediately following the preceding, and entitled "Misgivings in the Hour of Despondency and Prospect of Death." He copied it from thence into the Stair manuscript of early pieces (now dis- membered and scattered abroad). It is there headed—" Misgivings of Despondency on the Approach of the Gloomy Monarch of the Grave." It was also inserted in the manuscript book of like pieces presented to Mrs. Dunlop, under the heading — "Stanzas on the same occasion (as the preceding) in the manner of Jicattie's Minstreiy That collection is also cut uj) and scattered; and these verses, apparently once forming part of it are exhibited within the Bums monument at Iv- fjLir years of age, was 1.00 old to learn a trade ; therefore he, li^e many young men in a suailar position, looKed to enlisting in the srmy as a last resource. The Scotch have always been a warlike p'.-..- Iile. The natural resource of every young Scotchman in ditliculty \,a.-; to enlist. G. G. SONG— "NO CHURCHMAN AM I." Tune — " Prepare, my dear Brethren." (Edinburgh Ed., 1787.) 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 a snare, For a big-belly' d bottle's the whole of my care„ 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. !^r. 24.] POEMS AND SONGS. 37 Here passes the squire on his brother — his horse ; There centum per centum, the cit with his purse ; But see you the Crowft * how it waves in the air ? There a big-belly'd bottle still eases my care. 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-belly'd bottle's a cure for all care. I once was persuaded a venture to make ; A letter inform' d me that all was to wreck ; But the pursy old landlord just waddl'd up stairs, With a glorious bottle that ended my cares. "Life's cares they are comforts "f — 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-belly'd bottle's a heav'n of a care. A STANZA ADDED IN A MASON LODGE. Then fill up a b.umper and make it o'erflow. And honors Masonic prepare for to throw ; May ev'ry true Brother of the Compass and Square Have a big-belly'd bottle when harass' d with care. [We are inclined to set this down as a production of 17S2. The Bachelors' Club was instituted at the close of 17S0, and the poet was admitted an apprentice Free Mason in July, 1781, just before he proceeded to Irvine. lie was passed and raised on 1st October following, on which occasion, if he was present at Tarbolton, he must have travelled from Irvine for the purpose. The song in the text has none of the elements of popularity ♦Bums here refers to the sijni of "The Crown Tavern."— J. H. t Young's " Night Thoughts."— >?. A 427831 38 POEMS AND SONGS. [1782. in it, and seems more like an imitation of an English song than a spontaneous outburst of his own genius. Indeed, in the collec- tion of songs which he studied so much during his boyhood there is one that appears to have been his model : the closing line of one of its stanzas being "And a big-belly'd bottle's a mighty good thing."] BALLAD— MY FATHER WAS A FARMER. Tune — "The weaver and his shuttle, O." (Cromek, 1808.) My father was a fanner upon tlie Carrick* border, And carefully he bred me iu decency and order; He bade me act a manly part, though, I had ne'er a farthing; For without an honest manly heart, no man was worth regarding. Then out into the world my course I did determine; Tho' to be rich was not my wish, yet to be great was charming: My talents they were not the worst, nor yet my edu- cation : Resolv'd was I, at least to try, to mend my situation. In many a way, and vain essay, I courted Fortune's favor ; Some cause unseen still stept between, to frustrate each endeavor ; Sometimes by foes I was o'erpower'd, sometimes by friends forsaken; And when my hope was at the top, I still was worst mistaken. • Carrick is the southemmost of the three districts into which Ayrshire is di- vided, and lies between the Boon and the borders of Galloway. Bums' father did not live in Carrick, but in Kyle, close on the Carrick border.— J. H. ^V. 24.] POEMS AND SONGS. 39 Then sore harass' d, and tir'd at last, with Fortune's vain delusion, I dropt my schemes, like idle dreams, and came to this conclusion : The past was bad, and the future hid, its good or ill untried ; But the present hour was in my pow'r, and so I would enjoy it No help, nor hope, nor view had I, nor person to befriend me ; So I must toil, and sweat, and moil, and labour to sustain me ; To plough and sow, to reap and mow, my father bred me early; For one, he said, to labour bred, was a match for Fortune fairly. Thus all obscure, unknown, and poor, thro' life I'm doom'd to wander. Till down my weary bones I lay in everlasting slum- ber ; No view nor care, but shun whate'er might breed me pain or sorrow ; I live to-day as well's I may, regardless of to-morrow. But cheerful still, I am as well as a monarch in his palace, Tho' Fortune's frown still hunts me down, with all her wonted malice : I make indeed my daily bread, but ne'er can make it farther : But as daily bread is all I need, I do not much regard her. When sometimes by my labour, I earn a little money, Some unforeseen misfortune comes gen' rally upon me; 40 POEMS AND SONGS. [1782. Mischance, mistake, or by neglect, or my goodnatur'd folly: But come what will, I've sworn it still, I'll ne'er be melancholy. All you who follow wealth and power with unremitting ardour, The more in this you look for bliss, you leave your view the farther : Had you the wealth Potosi boasts, or nations to adore you, A cheerful, honest-hearted clown I will prefer before you. ■\ [The poet describes the above as "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." At the close of each line of the ballad, the letter "O" is introduced in the Author's MvS. to make it fit the tune to which he composed it. It has a disturbing effect in reading, and there- fore we withdraw it from our text for the present. In an after- part of the work the verses will be given verbathn, as part of the Common -place Book.] JOHN BARLEYCORN: A BALLAD.* (Edinburgh Ed., 1787.) There went three kings into the east, Three kings both great and high, And they hae sworn a solemn oath have John Barleycorn should die. * This is partly composed on the plan of an old song known by the same Bame.— /?. B. - ajT. 24.] ^ POEMS AND SONGS. 4^ • They took a plough and plough' d him down, Put clods upon his head, And they have swoni a solemn oath John Barleycorn was dead. But the cheerful Spring came kindly on, And show'rs began to fall ; John Barleycorn got up again, And sore surprised them all. 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. The sober Autumn enter' d mild, When he grew wan and pale ; His bending joints and drooping head Show'd he began to fail. His colour sicken' d more and more, He faded into age ; And then his enemies began To show their deadly rage. They've taen a weapon, long and sharp, taken And cut him by the knee ; Then ty'd him fast upon a cart, Like a rogue for forgerie. They laid him down upon his back. And cudgell'd him full sore; They hung him up before the storm, And tum'd him o'er and o'er. They filled up a darksome pit With water to the brim, They heaved in John Barleycorn — There, let him sink or swim. 42 POEMS AND SONGS. [1782 They laid him out upon the floor, To work him farther woe ; And still, as signs of life appeared, They toss'd him to and fro. They wasted, o'er a scorching flame, The marrow of his bones ; But a miller us'd him worst of all, For he crush' d him 'tween two stones. And they hae taen his very heart's blood, take* And drank it round and round; And still the more and more they drank, Their joy did more abound. "^ John Barleycorn was a hero bold. Of noble enterprise ; For if you do but taste his blood, 'Twill make your courage rise. '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. Then let us toast John Barleycorn, Each man a glass in hand; And may his great posterity Ne'er fail in old Scotland ! [In the Common-place Book this is set down immediately be- fore Poor Mailie, and all that we know concerning the date of the two poems is that they were written at Lochlea, prior to the year 1784. Gilbert has said, regarding the date of the latter, that his two younger brothers, William and John, then acted as drivers in the ploughing operations of the poet and himself. .^T. 24.] ^ POEMS AND SONGS. 43 John, in 1782, would be thirteen years old — a very likely age for him to commence duties of that kind ; so by this mode of calcula- tion we would arrive at a fair conclusion, were we to hold that John Barleycorn and Poor Mailie were composed shortly after Burns' return from Irvine in the early spring of 1782. It is not likely that the poet ever saw the ancient ballad of "John Barleycorn" in any collection. A copy in the Pepys' library, at Cambridge, furnished the old version included by Robert Jamieson in his col- lection of Ballads, 2 vols., 1S08. In the poet's note to the Ballad he says : — " I once heard the old song that goes by this name sung, and being very fond of it, and remembering only two or three Terses of it, viz., the ist, 2d and 3d, vnth some scraps, I have interwoven them here and there in the following piece." The poet could never be induced to correct the defective gram- mar in the opening line, deeming, we suppose, with Shakespeare, that bad grammar is sometimes a positive beauty. James Hogg had the eame feeling in regard to his favourite song "When the kye comes hame." In another of Burns' most admired Ballads, — "There ivas five Carlines in the south" — evidently composed on the model oi John Barleycorn — he retains the "bad grammar," and directs the song to be sung to the tune of Chezy Chase. We cannot tell whether that air was the same above referred to, which he "once heard sung."] THE DEATH AND DYING WORDS OF POOR MAIUE. rnS AUTHOR'S ONI,Y P;eT YOIVE—Kl^ UNCO MOURNFU' TALE. ewe extremely (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) As Mailie, an' her lambs thegither, Was ae day nibblin on the tether^ haiter Upon her cloot she coost a hitch, hoof cast An' owre she warsTd in the ditch: tumbled struggling There, groanin, dying, she did lie. When Hughoc* he cam doytin by. walking stupidly Wi' glowrift een, and lifted ban's staring eyes Poor Hughoc like a statue stan's ; • A neibour herd-callant, about three-fourths as wise as other folk. — R. B. 44 POEMS AND SONGS. [1782. He saw her days were near-hand ended, But, wae^ s my heart! he could na mend it ! woe is me He gaped wide, but naething spak^ spoke At length poor Mailie silence brak. broke u whose O thou, whase lamentable face Appears to mourn my wofu' 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, an' grow To scores o' lambs, and packs o' woo' ! ' ' Tell him, he was a Master kitC An' ay was guid 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, an' tods^ an' butcher's knives! But gie them guid cow-milk their fill. Till they be fit to fe^id themsel ; An' tent them duly, e'en an' mom, Wi' taetS O' hay an' rippS O' com, small quantities handfuls much cash more drive wool kind give foxes good provide for attend to "An' may they never learn iho. gaets^ Of ither vile, wanrestfii^ pets — To slink thro' slaps^ an' reave an' steal. At stacks o' pease, or stocks o' kail! So may they, like their great forbears^ For nio7iie a year come thro' the sheers : So wives will gie them bits o' bread, An' bairns greet for them when they're dead, ways unrestful gaps rob colewort ancestors many weep -ET. 25.] POEMS AND SONGS. "My poor toop-Iajub^ my son an' heir, O, bid him breed him up wi' care ! An' if he live to be a beast, To put some havins in his breast ! 45 tup-lamb manners "An' warn him — what I winna name To stay content wi' yowcs at hame ; An' no to rin an' wear his cloots^ Like ither menseless^ graceless brutes. will not ewes hoofs other unmannerly ' ' An' niest^ my yoivie^ silly thing, Gude keep thee frae a tether string ! O, may thou ne' er forgather tip^ Wi' ony Mastiff moorland toop ; But ay keep mind to inoop an'' melly Wi' sheep o' credit like thysel ! next little ewe from hold intercourse worthless associate * * And now, my bairns^ wi' my last breath, children X lea^e my blessin wi' you baith : leave both An' when you think upo' your niither, Mind to be kind to ane ajiither. one another "Now, honest Hughoc, dinna fail, To tell my mister a' my tale ; An' bid him burn this cursed tether. An' for thy pains thou'se get my blather" do not bladder This said, poor Mailie tuni'd her head, An' clos'd her een amang the dead! [Carlyle considers this the poet's happiest effort of its peculiar kind : he classes it with the Address to a Mouse, and the An Id Partner 's Mare, but holds that "this has even more of sportive tenderness in it." It was composed — just as we now see it — one afternoon while engaged with his plough on the slopes of Lochlea, his brother Gilbert being at work with his team on another part of the field. The poet's youngest brother, John — of whose early 46 POEMS AND SONGS. [1783. death, by the way, not a syllable has been ever heard — drove the horses, while the musing bard guided his plough in the even rig. Gilbert narrates the incident to this effect : — As they were setting out about noon, with their teams, a curious-looking, awkward boy, named Hugh Wilson, ran up to them in a very excited manner, and with a rueful countenance, announced that poor Mailie had got entangled in her tether and was lying in the ditch. It had never occurred to the terror-stricken "Hughoc " that he might have lent a hand in lifting her up : Mailie, however, was soon rescued from her peril and lived — it is hoped — to see her bairns' bairns. This timely intervention of the half-witted callant was the means of sending down the name of poor Mailie along with his own to distant posterity, for his comical consternation and pathetic interest in her fate suggested the poem to Bums.] POOR MAILIE'S ELEGY. (KlIrl) jjnjiffiA f- later than rwards pub- x)i) that iuosututed the •».-^W( clinT^. weeping- should lose . first place ■'\ obtained h carelesa THE RIGS O' BARLEY— " I set her down, wi' right good will, Amang the rigs o' barley." » ^T. 25.] POEMS AND SONGS. 49 I keji't her heart was a' my ain ; knew I lov'd her most sincerely ; I kiss'd her owre and owre again, over Amang the rigs o' barley. Corn rigs, an' barley rigs, &c. 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. Com rigs, an' barley rigs, &c. I hae been blythe wl' comrades dear ; giad I hae been merry drinking ; I hae been joyfu' gath'rin gear ; money I hae been happy thinking : But a' the pleasures e'er I saw, Tho' three times doubl'd fairly — That happy night was worth them a', Amang the rigs o' barley. Corn rigs, an' barley rigs, &c. [We conceive tliat we cannot be far wrong in setting down this and the four songs which immediately follow as compositions of the period from the summer of 1782 to the close of 1783, when the Burness family was preparing to remove to Mossgiel, and old William Burness, was about to bid them all farewell for ever. Many of the " Annies " of the district have contended for the du1)ious honor of being the heroine of this warndy-colored, 3'et highly popular, lyric. The name of Anne Ronald lias been men- tioned ; but, as we have already seen, the poet was content to ad- mire her at a respectful distance. Anne Rankine, daughter of a farmer at Adamhill, within two miles west of Lochlca, and who afterwards became Mrs. Merry, not only " owned the soft im- peachment," but to her dying day boasted that she was the Annie of the " Rigs o' Barley." If so, then Gilbert was right when he L D 50 POEMS AND SONGS. [i7«3. told Dr. Currie that " there was often a great disparity between the fair captivator and her attributes " as depicted in song by her lover. Our poet is said to have, on more than one occasion in after- life, referred to the closing verse of this song as one of hia happiest strokes of workmanship.] SONG— *' COMPOSED IN AUGUST." (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) Now westlin winds and slaught'ring guns Bring Autumn's pleasant weather ; The moorcock 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. 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. uplanda heron wood-pigeo« 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 ! MT. 25.1 * POEMS AND SONGS. 51 • 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 com, the fruited thorn, And ev'ry happy creiture. We'll gently walk, and sweetly talk, Till the silent moon shine clearly; I'll grasp thy waist, and, fondly press' t. Swear how I love thee dearly: Not vernal show'rs to budding flow'rs. Not Autumn to the fanner, So dear can be as thou to me, My fair, my lovely . channer! [This is "Song Second" (of the author's Edinburgh edition), referred to in his autobiography as " the ebullition of that passion which ended that school business" at Kirkoswald. If the lyric was suggested and partly sketched out when the poet was but in his seventeenth year, we are assured, on the testimony of Mrs. Begg, that at a considerably later period he experienced another love-fit for Kirkoswald Peggy, and corresponded with her, with a view to matrimony. It would be then that he dressed up this finely descriptive composition into its existing form ; but as he soon thereafter fell into grief about the subject of his epistle to Rankine, he was forced to abandon the idea of matrimony with Peggy. We shall again have occasion to advert to this very early in- spirer of the poet's passion, when, under date 1786, we give the verses he inscribed on a presentation copy to her of his first edition. Among the bard's letters also will be given one ad- dressed by him to an early Carrick friend, Mr. Thomas Orr, Park, dated nth Nov., 1784, which throws some light on the pres- ent subject.] 52 POEMS AND SONGS. [1783. SONG— "MY NANNIE, O." (Edinburgh Ed., 1787.) Behind yon hills where Lugar * flows, 'Mang moors an' mosses many, O, The wintry sun the day has clos'd, And I'll awa to Nannie, O. The westlin wind blaws loud an' skill ; The night's baith mirk and rainy, O ; But I'll get my plaid an' out I'U steal, An' owre the hill to Nannie, O. shrill dark over My Name's charming, sweet, an' young; Nae artfu' wiles to win ye, O : May ill befa' the flattering tongue That wad beguile my Nannie, O. Her face is fair, her heart is true ; As spotless as she's bonie, O ; The op'ning goivan^ wat wi' dew, Nae purer is than Nannie, O. daisy wet 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. know * " Stinchar," in all the author's editions, including that of 1794; but George Thomson says the poet sanctioned the change in 1792. (Stinchar has local verity in its favor, but, as Burns says to Thomson, " Lugar is the more agreeable mod- ulation of syllables." Lugar is a stream in Kyle, which, rising in Cumnock and flowing northwest by Ochiltree, falls into the Ayr at Barskimming, about a mile south of Mauchline. The Stinchar is a mere streamlet rising in Kirkoswald parish aad flowing into the Firth of Clyde, nearly opposite Ailsa Craig.)— J-H. .0 .'jinflfiVr o) xiJomojbw rri'I "-0 .jimVlAK YM ovt know MY NANNIE, O— " I'm welcome ay to Nannie, p^.J^^ ^ w^m MT. 25.] f POEMS AND SONGS. 63 • My riches a's my penny-fee,* An' I f/iaim guide it cannie^ O ; must carefully But warPs gear ne'er troubles me, world's wealth My thoughts are a'— my Nannie, O. Our auld guidman delights to view oid His sheep an' kye thrive bonie O ; cows But I'm as blythe that hands \\\s plcugh^ holds plough An' has nae care but Nannie, O. Come weel, come woe, I care na by ; care not I'll tak what Heav'n will sen' me, O : No other care in life have I, But live, an' love my Nannie, O. [The author, in his Common-place Book, directs this song to be sung to the tune of "As I came in by London, O," which no doubt would be the opening line of some then popular, but now unknown English song, set to the old Scotch air, "My Nanie, O." A vast deal has been written and said concerning the heroine- ship of this song. The Rev. Hamilton Paul, who belonged to Ayrshire, and was almost a contemporary of Burns, thus wrote in 1S19: — "In Kilmarnock, Bums first saw 'Nanie,' the subject of one of his most popular ballads. She captivated him as well by the charm of her person as by the melody of her voice. As he devoted much of his spare time to her society, and listened to her singing with the most religious attention, her sister observed to him, that he paid more attention to Nanie's singing than he would do to a preaching ; he retorted with an oath — ' Madam, there's no comparison.'" On the other hand, Gilbert Burns, who was aware that the song was composed before his brother ever spent an hour in Kilmarnock, informed George Thomson, that "Nanie was a farmer's daughter in Tarbolton parish, named Flem- ing, to whom the poet paid some of that roving attention which he was continually devoting to some one. Her charms were indeed mediocre, and what she had were sexual, which indeed was the characteristic of the greater part of his mistresses. He was no Platonic lover, whatever he might pretend or suppose of himself" • My small wages are all my wealth.— J. H. 54 POEMS AND SONGS. [1783. Allan Cunningham and other annotators have, through a mis- conception of the opening lines of the song, run away with the notion that Nauie belonged to Carrick, like the subject of the preceding lyric. But when we have the poet himself confess- ing that Vive V amour, et vive la bagatelle were his " sole principles of action," and that when the labors of each day were over, he "spent the evening in the way after his own heart," we must conclude that his rural divinities were not far to seek. It is by no means requisite that the iuspirer of this picture of rustic purity should have been named " Nanie." Here the poet sets himself to clothe with suitable words one of our most popular native melodies, and unless he had closed each verse with the familiar name — " My Nanie, O," — nothing that he could have composed for it could have answered the purpose so well. The early copy in the Common-place Book does not materially differ from that afterwards published ; but at the end of verse first, and at the close of the song, he gives the following chorus : — " And O tay bonie Nanie, O, My young, my handsome Nanie, O ; Tho' I had the world all at my will, I would give it all for Nanie, O. " SONG— GREEN GROW THE RASHES. (Edinburgh Ed., 17S7.) Chor. — Green grow the rashes, O ; Green grow the rashes, O ; The sweetest hours that e'er I spend, Are spent among the lasses, O. There's nought but care on ev'ry han', In every hour that passes, O : What signifies the life o' man, AtC ''twere na for the lasses, O. if it were not Green grow, &c. ^T. 25.] • POEMS AND SONGS. 55 « ' The warUy race may riches chase, worldly An' riches still may fly them, O ; An' tho' at last they catch them fast, Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, O. Green grow, &c. But gie me a caitnie hour at e'en, quiet My arms about my dearie, O ; An' war'ly cares, an' war'ly men. May a' gae tapsalteerie^ O. topsy-tun^? Green grow, &c. For you sae dotice^ ye sneer at this ; gravely prudent Ye' re nought but senseless asses, O: The wisest man the warP e'er saw, He dearly lov'd the lasses, O. Green grow, &c. 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, &c. [The author has nowhere given an indication of the date of this widely popular song. He entered it among other early pieces in his Common-place Book in August, 1784. It may have been then just composed ; but a Tarbolton contemporary spoke of it to Chambers, as a Lochlea production, in these terms: — "Burns composed a song on almost every tolerable-looking lass in the parish, and finally one in which he embraced them all." It is certain, however, that its crowning stanza — the last one — was not added till a much later date, perhaps not till he brushed up the song to appear in his Edinljurgh volume of 1787. This is proved by the fact that in his early manuscript co])ies that verse is wanting. The poet's son Robert, during the period of his retirement in Dumfries, used, in connection with this song, to repeat a stanza added by himself, which deserves preservation as a happy sequel to his father's idea in the closing verse. It is as follows : — Frae man's ain side the form was made That a' God's wark surpasses, O ; Man only loes his ain heart's bhiid, Wha dearly loves the lasses, O." 56 POEMS AND SONGS. [1783. In all the author's printed copies, except in the Museum, the word spend, in line third of the chorus, is altered to spe^it to the detriment of the poet's grammar. We therefore adhere to the Museum copy in that particular, which corresponds with the MS. of the Common-place Book.] SONG— ''INDEED WIIvL I," QUO' FINDLAY. Tune — " Lass, an I come near thee." (Johnson's Museum, 1792.) '* Wha is that at my bower-door?" who ' O wha is it but Findlay ! ' ht\ 1 go your) *' Then gae your gate^ ye 'se nae be here :" ways J 'Indeed maun /,' quo' Findlay, must i "What make ye^ sae like a thief?" do you ' O come and see, ' quo' Findlay ; "Before the mom ye'll work mischief" — ' Indeed will I, ' quo' Findlay. " Gif I rise and let you in" — « 'Let me in,' quo' Findlay, "Ye'll keep me waiikinWi' your din'''' — awake noise ' Indeed will I, ' quo' Findlay, '* In my bower if ye should stay " — ' Let me stay, ' quo' Findlay ; "I fear ye'll bide till break o' day" — remain ' Indeed will I, ' quo' Findlay. "Here this night if ye remain" — 'I'll remain,' quo' Findlay; "I dread ye'll learn the gate again" — way ' Indeed will I, ' quo' Findlay. "What may pass within this bower" — ' Let it pass, ' quo' Findlay ; "Ye maun conceal till your last hour" — must ' Indeed will I, ' quo' Findlay. MT. 25.] ^ POEMS AND SONGS. 67 [We consider ourselves justifiable in recording this as a produc- tion of the Lochlea period of the author's life. Gilbert Burns assured Cromek that his brother composed it in emulation of a piece iu Ramsay's Tea-table Miscellany, called "The auld man's best argument." An old woman in Tarbolton, named Jean Wilson, used to divert him and his companions by singing it with great effect ; and Gilbert supposed the poet had not then seen Ramsay's song. James Findlay, an Officer of Excise in Tarbolton, who afterwards married one of the "belles of Mauchline," was appointed, in March, 17S8, to train Burns for the duties of an exciseman. It is by no means improbable that this same Mr. Findlay, or a relative of his, was the hero of the foregoing song.] REMORSE : A FRAGMENT. (CURRIE, 1800.) 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 By our own folly, or our guilt brought on : In ev'ry 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 finn, 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 1 .68 POEMS AND SONGS. [1783. [These lines (reminding one of the "Fragment of a Tragedy," at p. 10) are recorded, under date September, 1783, in the poet's first Common-place Book. It is most probable that the poem is set down at its proper date, prompted by keen self-reproaches produced through the effects of immoral indulgence. In his ob- servations which introduce the piece, he seems to take credit to himself for bearing up against his wretchedness with manly firm- ness, because tempered with a penitential sense of his own mis- conduct. This spirit he terms "a glorious effort of self-com- mand."] EPITAPH ON JAMES GRIEVE, LAIRD OF BOG- HEAD, TARBOLTON. proprietor (Orig. Common-place Book, 17S4.) Here lies Boghead amang the dead, In hopes to get salvation; But if such as he, iu Heav'n may be, Theu welcome — hail! damnation. [This is the earliest sample of an extensive crop of like facetiae which the author, to the close of his life, was fond of producing. It is not very complimentary to the poor laird who provoked it; yet, by adopting a very slight variation, the poet, in his Kilmar- nock volume, converted this quatrain into a rich compliment to his friend, Ga\'in Hamilton, thus : — " The poor man weeps — here Ga\'in sleeps. Whom canting wretches blamed ; But with such as he, where'er he be. May I be saved or damned!" Boghead lies upwards of a mile due west from Lochlea, and near Adamhill. This epitaph does not accord very well vdth a gossip- ing anecdote given by Dr. Waddell conveying the allegation of frequent friendly visits paid by Burns to Boghead during this early period. ] ^T. 26.] * POEMS AND SONGS. 59 • EPITAPH ON WM. HOOD, SENR., IN TAR- BOLTON. (Kilmarnock Ed., 17S6.) Here Souter Hood in death does sleep ; shoemaker To hell if he's ganc thither, gone Satan, gie him thy gear to keep ; cash He'll Jiaud it weel thegether. hold together [The poet printed this with the title "On a Celebrated Rul- ing Elder." Every annotator hitherto had held it to apply to one of the elders of Mauchline kirk who aided in the persecution of Gavin Hamilton. It now appears, however, that one of the Tarbolton elders had, at a much earlier period, also provoked the poet's hostility — not certainly by his hypocrisy, but by his ex- treme penuriousness. The epitaph is recorded in the Common- place Book, along with the following, under date April, 1784.] EPITAPH ON MY OWN FRIEND AND MY FATHER'S FRIEND, WM. MUIR, IN TARBOLTON MILE. (CURRIE, 1800.) 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 informed : If there's another world, he lives in bliss ; If there is none, he made the best of this. [We take the title of this from the original Common-place Rook. Currie's heading is sim])ly " Epitajih on a Friend." This has always been regarded as one of the finest of the poet's numerous compliments, paid in a posthumous form, to hale and hearty 60 POEMS AND SONGS. [1784. friends. The subject of it was the tenant of "Willie's Mill" of Death and Dr. Hornbook, and a life-long friend of Biims and his relations. He died in 1793. The opening line reads thus in the early MS.- Here lies a cheerful, honest breast.] EPITAPH ON MY EVER HONOURED FATHER. (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) 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 w^e. The dauntless heart that fear'd no human pride ; The friend of man — to vice alone a foe ; For "ev'en his failings leaned to virtue's side." [It is not likely (although not impossible) that this well-known Epitaph, like the preceding, was composed during the lifetime of the subject of it. We find it recorded on the same page, and under the same date (April, 1784), as that to William Muir in the original Common-place Book. Instead of the opening line, as in the text, he has there written — "O ye who sympathize with virtue's pains;" and apparently not satisfied with that, he suggests, at foot of the page— "O ye whose hearts deceased merit pains." The improvement effected in that line, as afterwards published, is very striking. The death of William Burnes happened at Lochlea, on 13th Februar}', 1784. These lines of the son were engraved on the father's headstone in Alloway kirkyard ; and the reader, in musing over it, is apt to revert to the memorable words of John Murdoch: — "O for a world of men of such dispositions! I have often wished, for the good of mankind, that it were as custom- ary to honor and perpetuate the memory of those who excel in moral rectitude, as it is to extol what are called heroic ac- tions. Then would the mausoleum of the friend of my youth overtop and surpass most of those we see in Westminster Ab- bey !"] jgft. 26.] f POEMS AND SONGS. 61 [The following picture of how the position of affairs during the Colonial struggle was viewed in Scotland, by liberals like Burns, has never been surpassed for graphic force and happy terseness of expression. We do not remember to have seen it heretofore al- luded to ; we presume the oversight is due to its being ' ' chiefly in the Scottish dialect." Now that we have rendered it intelligi- ble to American readers we believe it will be better appreciated.— J.H.] BAIvIyAD ON THE AMERICAN WAR. Tttne — " Killiecrankie." (Edinburgh Ed., 1787.) When Gtiildford «-ood our pilot stood, An' did our hcllun thraiv^ man ; heim twist Ae night, at tea, began a plea, one Within America, man : Then up they gat the maskin-pat^ tea-pot And in the sea did yVrrc, man ; pour An' did nae less, in full congress. Than quite refuse our law, man. Then thro' the lakes Montgomery* takes, I wat he was na slaiv^ man ; wot slow Down Lowrie's Burn f he took a turn, And Carleton did ca', man : But yet, whatreck^ he, at Quebec, of what avail Montgomery-like t did y?z', man, fail Wi' sword in hand, before his l^and, Amang his en'mies a\ man. aii * General Richard Montporaery invaded Canada, autumn 1775, and took Mon- treal, — the British commander, Sir Guy Carleton, retiring before him. In an attack on Quebec he was less fortunate, bcinp killed by a storm of prape-shot in leading on his men at Cape Diamond. t Lowrie's Rurn, a pseudonym for tlie St. T.awreuce. t A passing compliment to the Moutyomeries of Coilsfield, the patrons of the poet. 62 POEMS AND SONGS. [1784. Poor Tammy Gage within a cage Was kept at Boston-lia' , * man; Till Willie Howe took o'er the knowe high grround For Philadelphia, f man ; Wi' sword an' gun he thought a sin Guid christian bluid to draw, man ; good blood But at New- York, wP knife an' fork, with Sir- Loin he hacked sma',| man. Burgoyne gaed up, like spur an' whip, went Till Fraser brave did fa' , man ; fail Then lost his way, ae misty day, on« In Saratoga shazu^ man.§ forests Cornwall is fought as lang's he dmight^ was able An' did the buckskins claw,|| m3n ; But Clinton's glaive frae rust to save, He hung it to the wa\ man. wau Then Montague, an' Guildford too, Began to fear a fa' , man ; And Sackville dour^ wha stood the stoure^ ^^"^d'uTt} The Gennan chief** to thraw^ man: thwart * General Gage, governor of Massachusetts, was cooped up in Boston by Gen- eral Washington during the latter part of 1775 and early part of 1776. In conse- quence of his inefficiency, he was replaced in October of that year by General Howe. t General Howe removed his army from New York to Philadelphia in the summer of 1777. X Alluding to a razzia made by orders of Howe at Peekskill, March, 1777, when a large quantity of cattle belonging to the Americans was destroyed. 2 General Burgoyne surrendered his army to General Gates, at Saratoga, on the Hudson, October, 1776. H Alluding to the active operations of Lord Comwallis in Virginia, in 1780, all of which ended, however, in his surrender of his army at Yorktown, October, 1781, while vainly hoping for reinforcements from General Clinton at New York. ** The German chief was Baron Steuben, a general of the Revolutionary Army. He was a native of Prussia, and adjutant-general in its army. Being in Paris in 1777, he was invited by St. Germain to go to America, and forthwith set out and joined Washington at Valley Forge. In 1780 he held a command in Virginia, and was on the staff of General Lafayette at the siege of Yorktown. Having spent his whole fortune on his men, Congress, in 1790, voted him an annuity ol $2,5cx) and a township of land in the State of New York. — J. H. ST. 26.] ^ POEMS AND SONGS. 63 • For Paddy Burke, * like ony Turk, Nae mercy had at a', man ; An' Charlie Fox threw by the box, aside An' lows' d his tinkler jaw, man. unloosed Then Rockingham took up the game ; Till death did on him ca\ man ; cmii 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 ; thwart For North an' Fox united stocks. An' bore him to the wa,' man.f Then clubs and hearts were Charlie's cartes^ cards 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^ plaudits On Chatham's boy § did ca', man; An' Scotland drew her pipe an' blew, "Up, Willie, waur them a', man ! " || worst Behind the throne then Granville's gone, A secret word or twa, man ; While slee Dundas arous'd the class sij Be-north the Roman wa', man : ♦Edmund Burke advocated a policy of justice and conciliation towards America, jrliich, had it been adopted, would have averted (at least for a time) the War of Independence. — J. II. t lyord North's administration was succeeded by that of the Marquis of Rock- ingham, March, 1782. At the death of the latter in the succeeding July, Lord Shelburne became prime minister, and Mr. Fox resigned his secretaryship. Under his lordship, peace was restored, January, 1783. By the union of Lord North and Mr. Fox, Lord Shelburne was .soon after forced to resigu in favor of his rivals, the heads of the celebrated coalition. t Fox's famous India Bill, by which his ministry was brought to destruction December, 1783. g William Pitt, second son of the Farl of Chatham,— J. H. I A i)opular Scottish song. 64 POEMS AND SONGS. [1784. apparition ) harness / An' Chatham's wraith^ in heav'nly^razV^, (Inspired bardies saw, man), poeta Wi' kindling eyes, cry'd, "Willie, rise! Would I hae fear' d them a' , man ? ' ' But, word an' blow. North, Fox and Co. Gowff' d Willie like a ba', man ; batted Till Suthron raise, an coost their claise ^^^\ "'^^'' \ ' clothes y Behind him in a raw, man : An' Caledon threw by the drone^ bagpipe An' did her whittle draw, man ; sword An' swoor fu' rude, thro' dirt an' bluid, swore To mak it guid in law, man.* ^ [With the exception of a very few expressions in the foregoing piece, it does not seem to have attracted popular attention. It was most likely a production of the spring of 1784, although not published in the author's first edition. He applied to the Earl of Glencairn and to Mr. Erskine, Dean of Faculty, for their opinion as to the policy of including it in his Edinburgh vohime, and they seem to have approved of it. Dr. Blair very characteristically remarked, on reading the ballad, that "Burns' politics smell of the smithy." This may be true, but the poli- tics of the smithy regarding these matters did ultimately pre» vail.] REPLY TO AN ANNOUNCEMENT BY J. RAN- KINE THAT A GIRI, IN HIS NEIGHBORHOOD WAS WITH CHII,D TO TH9 POET. (Stewart, 1801.) I AM a keeper of the law In some smd} points, altho' not a' ; smaii aii *In the new parliament called by Mr. Pitt, after his accession to oflBce in the spring of 1784, amidst the many new members brought in for his support, and that of the king's prerogative, there was an exceeding proportion from Scotland. ^T. 26.] ^ POEMS AND SONGS. 65 • Some people tell me gm I fa\ if fail Ae way or ither, one The breaking of ae point, tho' sma', Breaks a' tlicgither.* together I hae been in for't ance or twice, have once And winna say o'er far for thrice ; win not too Yet never met wi' that surprise That broke my rest ; But now a rumor's like to rise — curlew or I A whailp'S i' the nest ! f screamer/ [The girl Elizabeth Paton, referred to in Rankine's announce- ment, had been a servant at Lochlea about the period of the Poet's father's death, in Feb., 1784. Thereafter, when the Burnes family removed to Mossgiel, the girl went to her own home at Largieside, in Rankine's neighborhood. In the natural course of events, the poet had soon occasion to write his famous "Epistle" to the same correspondent, on the subject of the pre- ceding verses. That production accordingly now follows as a proper sequel.] EPISTI^E TO JOHN RANKINE, FARMER, ADAM- HILL, ENCLOSING SOMIi POEMS. (KlI,MARNOCK Ed., 1786.) O ROUGH, rude, ready-witted Rankine, , . , ' ^ . ' choice of good •> The wale d' cocks for fun an' drinking! feiiowsf There's mony godly folks are thinking, Your dreams % and tricks Will send you Korah-like a-sinkin, Strmight to auld Nick's. straight •James ii. 10. fThe girl is pregiiatit. t A certain humorous dream of his was then making a uolse in the country iide.— /?. B. I. ' S 66 POEMS AND SONGS. [1784. Ye liae sae mony cracks an' cants, * And in your wicked, driicken rants^ drunken froUcs Ye mak a devil o' the saunts^ saints An' fill them fon ; fuu And then their failings, flaws, an' wants, Are a' seen thro'. Hypocrisy, in mercy spare it ! That holy robe, O dhnia tear it ! do not 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 hack, tears it from Think, wicked Sinner, wha ye' re skaitJiing : harming It's just the 'Blue-gown' badge an' claithingf O' saunts ; tak that, ye lea' e them uae thing ^^^^ To ken them by, know Frae ony unregenerate heathen, from lyike you or I. I've sent you here some rhymin ware, A' that I bargained for, an' mair ; aii more Sae^ when ye hae an hour to spare, so I will expect. Yon sang I ye' 11 sen't, wi' cannie care, quiet And 710 neglect. not Tho' faith, sma' heart hae I to sing ! have My muse dow scarcely spread her wing ; can * You have so many stories and merry tales. — J. H. f "Bhie gowns" were an order of licensed beggars in Scotland, wearing a badge and a blue cloak or gown. They were called the king's bedesmen. The prac- tice of appointing "blue gowns" was discontinued in 1833, and the last survivor died in 1863. The Scotch clergy wear black gowns as their "claithing." — J. H. J A song he had promised the author. — R. B. /HI. 26.] ^ POEMS AND SONGS. 67 » I've play'd mysel a do;iie spring., fine tune An' daiic'd my fill!* I'd better gaeu an' sairH the king, sen'cd At Bunker's Hill. 'Twas ae niglit lately, in my fun, I gaed a rovin wi' the gun, f An' brought a paitrick to the gruii' — partridge ground A bonie hen ; And, as the twilight was begun. Thought na7ie wad keft. "°°^ would 1 ^ know J The poor, wee thing was little hurt ; I straikct it a wee for sport, stroked little Ne'er thinkin they ^?A fash me for't ; trouble * But, Deil-ma-care ! Somebody tells the poacher-court., kirk-session The hale affair. whole Some aiild., 21s'' d hands had ta'en a note, old experienced That sic a hen had got a shot ; such I was suspected for the plot ; of I scorn' d to lee ; So gat the whissle o' my groat, % An' pay't the fee. But, by my gun, o' guns the wale., choice An' by my pouther aii' my hail., powder and shot An' by my hen, an' by her tail, I vow an' swear ! The game shall pay, owre moor an' dale, - For this, niest year. next * I have got myself into a nice mess. — J. H. |- A sporting simile for unlicensed courting. X Was mulcted in or ordered to pay the penalty. Before the introduction of poor laws into Scotland, fornicators were fined by the kirk-.session, the money going for behoof of the poor. In very early times the fine was a groat or \d. sterling, whence the word came to be .synonymous with fine. Inair they talk, I'm kent the better, more, known E'en let them clash; taik An auld wife's tongue's 2^ feckless matter weak To gie ane fash. trouble Welcome ! my bonie, sweet, wee dochter^ daughter Tho' ye come here a wee unsought for, uttie bit And tho' your comin' I hae fought for, Baith kirk and queir ; * choir Yet, by my faith, ye'' re no unwrought for, you were not That I shall swear ! * A name for the kirk-sessiou (before which fornicators appeared), from its often holding its meetings in the choir. — ^.J. H. 70 POEMS AND SONGS. [1784. Wee image o' my bonie Betty, As fatherly I kiss and daut thee, fondia As dear, and near my heart I set thee, Wi' as glide will As a) the priests had seen me get thee all That's ont o' h— 11. ■ Sweet fruit o' 7nony a merr}^ dint, mans My funny toil is now a' tint^ losi Sin' thou cam to the warl' asklcnt^ iuegitimateij Which fools may scoff at ; In my last plack thy part's be inU; The better ha'f o't ^ coin Tho' I should be the wmir bestead^ worse off for it Thou's be as braw and bicnly clad, finely and comfortably And thy young years as nicely bred Wi' education, As ony brat o' wedlock's bed, In a' thy station. Lord 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 see thee heir it, Than stOCket ViailenS. well-stocked farms For if thou be what I wad Jiae thee. And tak the counsel I shall gie thee, I'll never rue m}^ trouble wi' thee — The cost nor shame o't. But be a loving father to thee. And brag the name o't. have give boast ^T. 26.] • POEMS AND SONGS. 71 [The heading to the above poem is that in the Glenriddell volume preserved in Liverpool ; but the copy entered there in Burns' autograph differs considerably from that first given to the world by Stewart. The verses are differently arranged, and the poem contains two hitherto unpublished stanzas, besides an entire remodelling of the verse which is last in the Glenriddell copy, and the fifth in Stewart. By some inadvertency, as we suppose. Burns, in transcribing the poem, had omitted vStewart's closing verse (the seventh in our text), which is so fine that it cannot be dispensed with. Through the kindness of Dr. Carruthers, of Inverness, we have been supplied with a copy of this poem which Burns presented to the aged Wm. Tytler, Esq., of Woodhouselee. It corresponds almost entirely with the Glenriddell version, and contains the stanza wanting there. That and other Burns' MSS., to be hereafter noticed, are in the possession of Mr. Tytler's great- grandson. Colonel Fraser-Tytler, of Aldourie. The child — born in Nov., 1784 — was tenderly reared and educated at Mossgiel under the care of the poet's mother and sisters. When "Betty Burns" arrived at the age of twenty-one years, she received ^200 as a marriage-portion out of a fund that had been subscribed for the widow and children of the bard. She bore a striking resemblance to her father, and became the wife of Mr. John Bishop, overseer at Polkemmet, Linlithgowshire, and died in December, 18 16, at the age of thirty-two. We have heard nothing of her offspring or her descendants. The third and sixth stanzas are those that were brought to light in 1S74 from the Glenriddell MSS. The public is now in possession of the complete poem, with the author's last touches.] SONG— O LEAVE NOVEIvS. (Currie;, 1801.) O LEAVE novels,* ye Maiicliline belles, Ye' re safer at your spinning-wheel ; Such witching- books are baited hooks For rakish rooks like Rob Mossgiel ; * The Ayrshire pronunciatioti of novel is (or was) no-veV, beitig, as is the case with many Scotch wdrds, closer to the soiind of the French original than the Knglish prouuuciatiou is.- -J. H. 72 POEMS AND SONGS. [1784. 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. Beware a tongue that's smoothly hung, A heart that wannly seems to feel ; That feeling heart but acts a part — 'Tis rakish art in Rob Mossgiel. The frank address, the soft caress. Are worse than poisoned darts of steel ; The frank address, and politesse, Are all finesse in Rob Mossgiel. -■ [This song contains excellent advice to the young women of Mauchliue. It would have been well for at least one of those "belles" had she acted on the poet's candid warning; but, accord- ing to the philosophy of a reverend biographer of Burns, whose observations are commended by Lockhart — "To warn the young and unsuspecting of their danger, is only to stimulate their curi- osity." The warning, in that case, were better withheld.] FRAGMENT— THE MAUCHLINE lyADY. (Cromek, 1808.) When first I came to Stewart Kyle, My mind it was 7ia steady ; not "Where'er I gaed^ where'er I rade^ went rode A mistress still I had ay ; But when I came roun' by Mauchline toun, Not dreadin anybody. My heart was caught, before I thought. And by a Mauchline lady. [If the Epistle to Davie was composed in January, 1785, then it follows that the poet's first rencontre with Jean Armour was in the summer of 1784. The present fragment, in that case, must apply MT. 26.] I POEMS AND SONGS. 73 to her. It is a free parody of the old song, "I had a horse and I had nae mair," to which tune the author directs it to be set. "Stewart Kyle," or Kyle-Stewart, is that part of the central dis- trict of Ayrshire which lies between the rivers Irvine and Ayr. The poet was originally of "King Kyle," or Kyle-Carrick — the district between the Ayr and the Doon. He shifted to Stewart Kyle on leaving Mount Oliphant for Lochlea, in 1777.] FRAGMENT— MY GIRL SHE'S AIRY. Tune— "Black Jock." (Orig. Common-place Book, 1S72.) [See Introduction to Common-place Book.] My girl she's ain-, she's buxom and gay ; Her breath is as sweet as the blossoms in May ; A touch of her lips it ravishes quite : She's always good natur'd, good humor' d, and free ; She dances, she glances, she smiles upon me ; I never am happy when out of her sight. Her slender neck, her handsome waist, Her hair well curled, her stays well lac'd, Her taper white leg with For her ...... And O for the joys of a long winter night. [The above fragment of a song the poet records in his Com- mon-place Book, under date September, 17S4. The editor of the printed copy of that curious MS. has noted that in the original there is some "defect," where the blanks are filled up with asterisks. Had the fragment been recorded a year later, we might safely assume that Jean Armour was the "airy girl" here sketched out.] THE BELLES OF MAUCHLINE. (CURRIE, 1800.) In Mauchline there dwells six proper young belles, The pride of the place and its neighborhood a' ; Their carriage and dress, a stranger would giiess, In London or Paris, they'd gotten it a'. 74 POEMS AND SONGS. [17S4. Miss Miller is fine. Miss Markland's divine, {gaily dressed There's beauty and fortune to get wi' Miss Morton, But Armour's the jewel for me o' them a'. , [For the sake of the interest involved in whatever interested Burns, the after-history of the "six proper young belles," cata- logued by him in this little piece, has been traced and is here recorded. Miss Helen Miller married Burns' friend, Dr. Macken- zie. The "divine" Miss Markland was married to Mr. James Findlay, an officer of excise, first at Tarbolton, afterwards at Greenock. The witty Miss Jean Smith bestowed herself upon Mr. James Candlish, who, like Findlay, was a friend of Burns. The "braw" Miss Betty Miller became Mrs. Templeton ; she was sister of No. I, and died early in life. Miss Morton gave her " beauty and fortune" to Mr. Paterson, a merchant in Mailthline. Of Ar- mour's history, Immortality has taken charge. The last survivor died in January, 1S54 ; she was mother of the late Rev. Dr. Cand- Msh, of Edinburgh, an eminent minister in the Free Church of Scotland, and latterly Principal of the Free Church College, Edin- burgh, who was laid beside his parents in Old Calton, at Edin- burgh, in October, 1873.] EPITAPH ON A NOISY POLEMIC. (KlI,MARNOCK Ed., 1786.) Below thir stanes lie Jamie's banes ; these O Death, it's my opinion, Thou ne'er took stich a blet/i^rin b-tch biathenng Into thy dark dominion ! [The subject of this versicle was James Humphrey, a jobbing mason, well-known in Mauchline and Tarbolton for his tendency to talk on matters of church doctrine. He used to hint that the poet had satirized him in revenge for being beaten by Humphrey in an argument. He died in 1844 at the advanced age of 86, an inmate of Faile poor's-house ; and many an alms-offering he earned in consequence of Bums' epitaph.] (He used to introduce himself to visitors, from whom he hoped to get a trifle, with: "Please, sir, I'm 'the bleth'rin. bitch.'"—* J. H.) «ET. 26.] I POBMS AND SONGS. 75 EPITAPH ON A HENPECKED SQUIRE. (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) As father Adam first was fool'd, (A case that's still too common,) Here lies a man a woman ruled The devil ruled the woman. EPIGRAM ON THE SAID OCCASION. O Death, had'st thou but spar'd his life, Whom we this day lament ! We freely wad exchanged the wife, wouw have And a'' been weel content. aii Ev'n as he is, caiild in his graff^ cold grave The swap we yet will do't ; exchange Tak thou the carlin's carcass aff^ off Thoii'se get the satil d' boot, you win soui to boot • ANOTHER. One Queen Artemisa, as old stories tell. When deprived of her husband she loved so well, In respect for the love and affection he show'd her, She reduced him to dust and she drank up the powder. But Queen Netherplace, of a dift'rent complexion, When called on to order the fun'ral direction, Would have eat her dead lord, on a slender pretence. Not to show her respect, but — to save the expence ! [The three foregoing epigrams were directed against Mr. Camp- bell, of Netherplace, and his wife, whose house and grounds the poet daily passed on his way between Mossgiel and Mauchline, After publication in his first edition they were withdrawn.] 76 POEMS AND SONGS. [1784, ON TAM THE CHAPMAN. (Ai,DiNE Ed., 1839.) As Tarn the chapman on a day, Wi' Death forgather' d by the way, met accidentally Weel pleas' d, he greets a wight so famous. And Death was na less pleas' d wi' Thomas, no Wha cheerfully lays down his pack, And there blazvs up a hearty crack: begins chat His social, friendly, honest heart Sae tickled Death, they could na part ; so not Sae, after viewing knives and garters. Death taks him hame to gie him quarters, give [Itis was first brought to life by William Cobbett, who printed it in his Magazine. It had been communicated to him by the sub- ject of the epitaph, by name Thomas Kennedy, then an aged person resident in London. He represented himself as having known the poet in very early life, in the neighborhood of Ayr, where both were born and brought up. Kennedy afterwards be- came a travelling agent for a mercantile house in a country town near Mauchline, where he renewed acquaintance with Bums. These lines were composed on Kennedy's recovery from a severe illness. This trifle may have suggested to Bums the idea afterwards work«<} •s)ut in "Death and Dr. Hornbook."] EPITAPH ON JOHN RANKINE. (Stewart, 1801.) Ae day, as Death, that gruesome carl^ grimfeiiow Was driving to the tither warl' the other A mixtie-maxtie motley squad, much mixed And mony a guilt-bespotted lad — Black gowns of each denomination, And thieves of everv' rank and station. j£,r. 26.] I POEMS AND SONGS. 77 From liim that wears the star and garter, To him that wintles in a halter : wriggles Ashamed himself to see the wretches, He mutters, glowrin at the bitches, stanng " Bv G — d I'll not be seen behint them, ■J _ ' corps or^ Nor 'mang the sp' ritual outh ; give They let us ken oursel ; know ourselves They make us see the naked truth — The real giiid and ill : good Tho' losses an' crosses Be lessons right severe, There's wit there, ye'il get there, Ye' 11 find nae other where. But tc7it me^ Davie, ace o' hearts ! attend to me (To say aught less wad wrang the cartes^ cards And flatt'ry I detest) This life has joys for you and I ; An' joys that riches ne'er could buy, An' 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 wanns me, it charms me, To mention but her name : It heats me, it beets me, enkindles An' sets me a' on flame ! 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 ! 90 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. 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 ev'ry care and ill ; And oft a more endearing band — A tie more tender still. It lightens, it brightens The tenebrific scene. To meet with, an' greet witfi My Davie, or my Jean ! O how that Name inspires my style ! The words come skelpin^ rank an' file, hurrying on Aniaist before I ken ! almost know The ready measure rins as fine, As Phoebus an' the famous Nine Were glowrhi owre my pen. staring My spavet Pegasus will limp, spavined Till ance he's fairly het ; ''°t A 11 i»ii7-7j 1 •» \ •• , hobble halt) And then he 11 hilch^ anasmi, arC jimp, jump/ And ri'n an unco Jit ; run uncommon fa*H But least then the beast then Should rue this hasty ride, I'll light now, and dight now wipe down His sweaty, wizen'' d hide. shrunken [The date of this poem is January, 1785, and it is headed by- Bums "An Epistle to Davie, a Brother Poet, Dover, Ploughman and Fiddler." This Davie was David Sillar, one year younger than Burns, and also the son of a small farmer near Tarboltou. He removed to Irvine before the poet published his first edition. Smitten with the spirit of emulation, he also printed a volume of rhyming ware, which appeared in 1789, and Burns, then at Ellisland, helped him to his utmost in procuring subscribers. " Davie " did rot make a fortune by the sale of his book ; but .er. 27.] - ' POEMS AND SONGS. 91 he applied himself earnestly to business, first as a grocer, and thereafter as a schoolmaster. Eventually he became a counciMor, and latterly a magistrate, of Irvine, and survived till 1S30, much respected, and possessed of considerable means. The poem exhibits Burns in the full blossom of attachment to his Jean. It was not the fate of Sillar to obtain the hand of his "Meg" referred to in the Epistle: she was Margaret Orr, a servant at Stair House.] ]B^] HOLY WILLIE'S PRTTYER. "And send the godly in a pet to pray." — Pope. (Stewart and meiki^e's Tracts, 1799.) Argument. — Holy Willie was a rather oldish bachelor elder, in the parish of Mauchline, and much and justly famed for that polemical chattering which ends in tippling orthodoxy, and for that spiritualized bawdry which refines to liquorish devotion. In a sessional process with a gentleman in Mauch- line — a Mr. Gavin Hamilton — Holy Willie and his priest, Father Auld, after full hearing in the presbytery of Ayr, came off but second best, owing partly to the oratorical powers of Mr. Robert Aiken, Mr. Hamilton's counsel ; but chiefly to Mr. Hamilton's being one of the most irreproacha- ble and truly respectable characters in the county. On losing his process, the muse overheard him [Hol}'^ Willie] at his devotions, as follows : — O Thou, who in the heavens does dwell, Who, as it pleases best Thysel, Sends ane to heaven an' ten to hell, A' for Thy glory. And no for 07ty gude or ill any They've done afore Thee!'' '" ^^A . •' ■' sight > ♦It is amusing and instructive to note how differently the respective hiogr.-i- phers of the poet have expressed their sentiments regarding this powerful pro- duction. The Rev. Hamilton Paul and the Rev. Ilately Waddell seem to invite the friends of religion to bless the memory of the poet who took such a judi- cious method of "leading the liberal mind to a rational view of the nature of 92 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. I bless and praise Thy matchless might, When thousands Thou hast left in night, That I am here afore Thy sight, before For gifts an' grace A burning and a shining light To a' this place. What was I, or my generation, That I sl i9}ild get sic exaltation, such I wha des^^ most just damnation who For broken laws, Five thousand years ere my creation. Thro' Adam's cai^se. When frac my mither's womb I fell, from Thou might hae plunged me in hell. To gnash my gums, to weep and wail, In burnin lakes. Where damned devils roar and yell. Chain' d to their stakes. Yet I am here a chosen sample, To show Thy grace is great and ample ; prayer." Dr. Waddell says that the poem "implies no irreverence whatever on the writer's part ; but on the contrary, manifests his own profoundest detestation of, and contempt for, every variety of imposture in the name of religion." His brother divine regards the poem as " merely a metrical version of every prayer that is offered up by those who call themselves of the pure reformed church of Scotland." Motherwell, on the other hand, styles it "by far the most repre- hensible of Burns' pieces, and one which should never have been written." Cunningham timidly shelters himself behind the words of Sir Walter Scott, by calling it a ''too daring poem," and "a piece of satire more exquisitely severe than any which Burns ever afterwards wrote." Chambers describes it as "a satire nominally aimed at Holy Willie, but in reality a burlesque of the extreme doctrinal views of the party to which that hypocrite belonged." Many will agree with Sir Harris Nicolas in saying that "the reverend admirers of the poem appear to have compounded with their consciences for being pleased with a piece showing little veneration for religion itself, because it ridicules the mis- taken zeal of an opposite sect." (However regarded by Burns' biographers, this is one of the best known and most frequently quoted of his poems. — ^J. H.) ^T. 27.] • rOEMS AND SONGS. 93 I'm here a pillar c? Thy temple, of Strong as a rock, A guide, a buckler, and example. To a' thy flock. aii O L — d, Thou kens what zeal I bear, knowest When drinkers drink, an' swearers swear, An' singin' there, an' dancin' here, Wi' great and sma'; For I am keepit by Thy feqj Free frae them a''. from But yet, O L — d ! confess I must, At times I'm fasJi' d wi' fleshly lust : troubled An' sometimes, too, in warldly trust, worldly Vile self gets in ; But Thou remembers we are dust, Defil'd wi' sin. O L — d ! yestreen^ Thou kens, wi' Meg — yester-even Thy pardon I sincerely beg, O ! may't ne'er be a livin plague To my dishonor, An' I'll ne'er lift a lawless leg Again upon her. Besides, I farther mmin allow, must Wi' Leezie's lass, three times I trow — But L — d, that Friday I was foti^ fuu When I came near her ; Or else. Thou kens, Thy servant true Wad never steer her. disturb Maybe Thou lets this fleshly thoni perhaps Buffet Thy servant e'en and morn, Lest he owre proud and high shou'd turn, too That he's sae gifted : If sae. Thy han' maun e'en be borne, Until Thou lift it. 94 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. L — d, bless Thy cliosen in this place, For here Thou hast a chosen race : But G — d confound their stubborn face, An' blast their name, Wha bring Thy elders to disgrace An' public shame. L — d, mind Gaw^7t Hamilton's deserts : Gavin He drinks, an' swears, an' plays at carts^ cards Yet has sae mony takin arts, Wi' great and sma', Frae G — d's ain priest the people's hearts He steals awa. ^ An' when we chasten' d him therefor, . ' outburst of) Thou kens how he bred sic a spiore^ ridicule / As set the warld in a roar O' laughing at us ; — Curse Thou his basket and his store, Kail an' potatoes. L — d, hear my earnest cry and pray'r, Against that Presby t' r}^ o' Ayr ; Thy strong right hand, L — d, make it bare Upo' their heads ; L, — d visit them, an' dinna spare. For their misdeeds. O L — d, my G — d ! that glib-tongu'd Aiken,* My vera heart and flesh are quakin. To think how we stood sweatin, shakin. An' p — 'd wi' dread, • sneering ) While he, wi' hingin lip an' snakin, exuitingiyi Held up his head. *An eloquent Ayr lawyer, who argued his brother practitioner's (Hamilton'si case before the Presbytery See Argument. — J. H. ^T. 27.] • POEMS AND SONGS. 95 L — d, ill Thy day o' vengeance try him, L — d, visit them wha did employ him, And pass not in Thy mercy by them, Nor hear their pray'r. But for Thy people's sake destroy them. An' diiina spare. do not But, Iv — d, remember me an' mine Wi' mercies temporal an' divine, That I for grace an' gear may shine, wealth Excell'd by nane^ none And a' The glory shall be thine. Amen, Amen ! [The "Argument," or introduction, printed at the head of this poem, is from the bard's own pen. It is prefixed to the copy in- serted in the Glenriddell vohime at Liverpool. This enables us with some certainty to decide that the early part of the year 1785 was the date of the composition. The "sessional process" re- ferred to really commenced in August, 17S4, just before the annual celebration of the communion at Mauchline, when the name of Gavin Hamilton, friend and landlord of the poet, was included in a list of members who were threatened to be debarred from the communion table for "habitual neglect of church ordinances." Hamilton, believing that he himself was the party chiefly aimed at, addressed an angry letter to the kirk session, telling them that they had no just grounds of offence against him, and that they must be conscious of proceeding purely on "private pique and ill-nature." Hamilton, finding the kirk session obstinate, and inclined to treat him still more offensively, appealed to the pres- bytery of Ayr for protection, and in January, 1785, he obtained a decree of that court ordering the erasure of the session min- utes complained of. It was at this stage — as we apprehend — that the muse of Burns "overheard Holy IVillie at his devo- tions;" but that personage did not content himself with "prayers" merely, for Auld and his confederates refused to obey the presbyterial order, and made appeal to the Synod. The pro- cess there did not close till July, 1785, when the affair was compromised by Hamilton's acceptance of a certificate from his kirk session, granting him to be "free from all ground of church censure." In the complete "Prayer" there are seventeen stanz&s, the sixth of which is rarely found in the later manuscripts; perhaps 96 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. because Bums felt it to be rather a weak verse, and excluded it in transcribing. It is not in Stewart and Meikle's Tracts, 1799, nor in Stewart's volume, 1801 ; but it appears in his second edition, 1802. It is amusing to notice how the various editors have dealt with the text. The Rev. Hamilton Paul gives it pure and uncastrated, excluding only the sixth verse, of the existence of which he might not be aware. Cunningham omits verses sixth and eighth, and corrupts the fifteenth. Motherwell gives all the seventeen verses, but his fifteenth stanza is the "Dum- fries version," of which we shall presently speak. Chambers omits the sixth, eighth and ninth verses, besides repeating Cun- ningham's corruption of verse fifteenth. The Glenriddell MS. adopts what we have termed the "Dumfries version" of the fifteenth stanza. The poet's friends in that county stumbled at the word "snakin," which, in the text, has a meaning the very op- posite of the English word sneaking. To please them, he altered the structure and effect of the stanza, so that the word objected to has the ordinary meaning of the word "sneaking," but only pro- nounced as an Irishman might — " snahifi'." The following is the altered stanza, and the reader may decide for himself whether it or the Ayrshire version is the better one : — " O L— d, my G — d, that glib-tongued Aiken ! My very heart and flesh are quaking, To think how I sat sweating, shaking, And p — ss'd wi' dread. While Auld, wi' hinging lip, gaed sneaking, And hid his head! " The motto from Pope is found only in MS. of this poem made in Dumfries. The same observation applies to the motto prefixed to the Twa Herds.'] EPITAPH ON HOLY WILLIE. (Stewart, 1801.) Here Holy Willie's sm'r worn clay sore Taks up its last abode ; His saul has /aV« some other way, soui ukeu I fear, the left-hand road. ex. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 97 Stop ! there he is, as siire's a gim, Poor, silly body, see him ; Nae wonder he's as black's the griin^ ground Observe wha's standing wi' him. Your briuistanc devilship, I see, brimstone Has got him there before ye ; But hand your nine-tail cat a zvee^ a Httie Till ance you've heard my story. once Your pity I will not implore, For pity ye have nane ; Justice, alas ! has gV en him o'er, given And mercy's day is gane. past blockhead 1 But hear me. Sir, deil as ye are, Look something to your credit ; A ^(7^ like him wad stain your name, would i" If it were kent ye did it. known [This "Epitaph" is a poor performance, compared with the main poem ; and the author would seem to have been sensible of this when he refrained from transcribing it into the Glen- riddell volume along with the "Prayer." It was not published till two years after the latter made its first appearance, and we are not aware that it now exists in the poet's autograph. The name of the hero of these biting satires was William Fisher, a leading elder in the parish church of Mauchline. Its kirk ses- sion, in 1785, consisted of three active members — Rev. William Auld, Mr. John Sillars, and "Holy Willie." In cases of disci- pline, the reverend incumbent, as moderator, first expre.sscd his opinion, and foreshadowed judgment : William Fisher would ob- sequiously second the minister in the words, "I say wi' you, Mr. Auld— what say you, Mr. Sillars?" The latter might cither agree or dissent, for it made no difference, he being a hopeless minority in a court like that. vSucli is the account of " Daddie Auld's" session given by Dr. Waddell, on the authority of local reminiscences gleaned by him in the district. Burns, in a poem produced in 1789, refers to his aucieut foe, William P'isher, in these words : — " Holy will, holy Will, there was wit in your skull. When ye pilfer'd the alms of the poor." L G 98 POEMS AND SONGS. [178s It appears that the sins of the hoary- hypocrite rapidly found him out. The date of his death we have not ascertained, but his exit was quite in character ; for he died in a ditch by the road- side, into which he had fallen on his way home from a debauch. Father Auld and he repose in Mauchline kirkyard, almost side by side, the inscription on the minister's tablet recording that he died on. 12th December, 1791, in his 8ist year.] DEATH AND DOCTOR HORNBOOK, A TRUE STORY. (Edinburgh Edition, 1787.) Some books are lies frae end to end, from And some great lies were never penn'd : Ev'n ministers they hae been kenn'd^ known In lioly rapture, A rousing whid at times to vend, startling fib And ;/<3:27'/ wi' Scripture, confirm it But this that I am gaun to tell, going Which lately on a night befel, Is just as true's the Deil's in hell Or Dublin city : That e'er he nearer comes oiirsel to ourselves 'S a muckle pity. great The dachan yill had made me catily^ viiiage-aie happy I was na fou^ but just had plenty ; fuii I stacker' d whyles, but yet took tent ay staggered occa-. ' -^ 1 . 1 sionally care ) To free the ditches ; avoid An' hillocks, stanes, an' bushes, kenned ay knew Frae ghaists an' witches. ghosu The rising moon began to glowre stare fixedly The distant Cumnock hills out-owre : over the top of ^T. 27.]. POEMS AND SONGS. 99 To count her horns,* wi' a' my pow'r, I set mysel ; But whether she had three or four, I cou'd na tell. QOt I was come round about the hill, An' todlin down on Willie's mill, f walking tottenngiy Setting my staff wi' a' my skill, To keep me sicker ; steady and safe Tho' leeward whyles^ against my will, nowandthen I took a bicker. made a lurch I there wi' Something did forgather^ encounter That pat me in an eerie swither ; dismal hesitancy An' awfu' scythe, out-owre ae shoiither^ shoulder Clear-dangling, hang ; A three-tae'd leister on the ither saimon-spear 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 ; beiiy ataii And then its shanks. They were as thin, as sharp an' sma' As cheeks O' branks.X wooden bndle * Guid-een^ ' quo' I ; ' Friend ! hae ye been good-evening mawiiiy ' When ither folk are busy sawin ! ' § mowing sowing * Cumnock hills lie southeast from Tarbolton ; and hence, it is argued by Dr. Waddell, the moon could not be seen in crescent from the poet's standpoint. The learned critic has forgot the " clachan yill." t Willie's Mill, a mill near Tarbolton, on the river Failc, occupied by William Muir, a crony of Burns, and whose name appears as a subscriber to the Kdin- burgh edition of his poems.— J. H. t Waddell, on the authority of a local informatit, .says that Death, as well as Hornbook, had a local antitype — Hugh Rcid, of the I,ochlans, "a long ghaist- like body, wi howe chafls and sma' shank-banes, whase deformities were weel seen for he wure short knee-breeks, thin stockings and mucklf shoon." Hums "forgathered" with him that night " abune " Willie's Mill, and kent wha it was fu' brawly."— J. H. 2 This rencontre happened in seed-time, 1785.—/?. B. 100 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785 It seem'd to inak a kind o' stan^'' stand But naething spak ; At length, says I, ' Friend ! whare ye gaun ? going ' Will ye go back ? It spak right howe^ — 'My name is Death, hollo's* 'But be \\2^flefd.' — Quoth I, ' Guid faith, alarmed 'Ye' re may be come to stap my breath; 'But tent me, billie ; attend fnend 'I red ye weel, tak care o' skaitJi^ counsel harm 'See, there's Sl gully/ ciasp-knife 'Gudeman,' quo' he, 'put up your whittle^ knife 'I'm no design' d to try its mettle ; ' But if I did, I wad be kittle dangerously apt 'To be mislear' d ; mischievous * I wad na mind it, no that spittle Out-owre my beard.' * over 'Weel, weel!' says I, 'a bargain be't ; ^ ' Come, gies your hand, an' sae we're ^r^^'// agreed/ 'We'll ease our shanks an' tak a seat — ' Come, gies your news ; give us ' This while ye hae been niony a gate^ many a road ' At mony a house. ' f * Ay, ay ! ' quo' he, an' shook his head, 'It's e'en a lang, lang time indeed ' Sin' I began to tiick the thread, cut ' An' choke the breath : ' Folk maun do something for their bread, must ' An' sae maun Death. so • Burns here commits a solecism in gi^nng the skeleton Death a beard, if we are to accept his words in their literal sense. The poet, however, really makes use of a common Scotch phrase expressive of supreme indifference or contempt, without thinking of its literal meaning. — J. H. t Aji epidemical fever was then raging in that country.— .ff. B. • ■ aJT. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 101 ■^ » > ''Sax thousand years are ncaf-haiici fled „':\^ six * Sin^ I was to the butching br.ed. . since butchering *An' mony a scheme m .yain'.s been laid ■ ' To stap or scar me ; stop scare 'Till ane Hornbook's* ta'en up the trade, 'And faith! he'll waiir rsiO:. beat 'Ye ken Jock Hornbook i' the Clachan — *Deil tnak his kings-hood in a put self-consequence Spieiichail ! tobacco pouch ' He's grown sae weel acquaint wi' Buchan f ' And ither chaps ^ other feiiows ' The weans hand out their fingers laughin, ^^^^^^l"^ ] 'An' pouk my hips. piuck 'See, here's a scythe, an' there's a dart, 'They hae pierc'd mony a gallant heart; ' But Doctor Hornbook wi' his art 'An' cursed skill, * Has made them baith no worth a f — t, not a ) ' D—n'd haet they'll kill ! whit/ • ' 'Twas but yestreen, nae farther gane, ' 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, gave a tremulous stroke - ' But did nae mair. ' Hornbook was by, wi' ready art, 'An' had sae fortify' d the part, ♦This gentleman, Dr. Hornbook, is professionally a brother of the sovereign order of the ferula ; but, by intuition and inspiration, is at once an apothecary, Burgeon, and physician.—^. B. t Buchan's Domestic Medicine. — R. B. Dr. Wm. Buchan died in 1805. His book is still popular in Scotland. 102 POEMS AND SONGS. [178s * That when 1 looked to my dart, ... - . . 'It was sae blunt, *■ Fient Kaet o'f wad-hae pierced the heart bu"ofu} ' Of a kail-rimt, kaie-staik *I drew my scythe in sic a fury, ' I near-hand cowpit wi' my hurry, overbalanced myself ' But yet the bauld Apothecary ' Withstood the shock ; *I might as weel hae try'd a quarry ' O' hard whin rock. *Ev'n them he cajiiia get attended, cannot 'Altho' their face he ne'er had keiid it, known *Just in a kail-blade, an' 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 an' whittles^ instruments} ' Of a' dimensions, shapes, an' mettles, *A' kinds o' boxes, mugs, an' bottles, 'He's sure to hae; have 'Their I^atin 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 an' pease, ' He has't in plenty ; * Aqua-fontis, what you please, ' He can content ye. * For bye some new, uncommon weapons, besides ' Urinus spiritus of capons ; ^T. 27.] ' '' POEMS AND SONGS. 103 ' Or mite-horn shavings, filings, scrapings, 'Distilled per se ; ' Sal-alkali o' midge-tail clippings, 'And mony ^naej* more * Waes me for Johnie Ged's* Hole now,' woe is Quoth I, ' if that thae news be true ! these ' His braw calf- ward f whare gowain grew, daisies ' Sae white and bonie, *Nae doubt they'll rive it wV the plciv ; plough it up 'They'll ruin Johnie!' The creature grain' d an eldritch laugh, Unearthly ) And says, ' Ye needna yoke the pieiigh^ plough 'Kirkyards will soon be till'd eneugh, ' Tak ye nae fear : 'They'll a' be trench' d wi mony a shcitgh^ trench '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^ oath 'That Hornbook's skill *Has clad a score i' their last claith^ cioth ' By drap an' pill. *An honest wabstcr to his trade, weaver * Whase wife's twa nieves were scarce wcel-bred, fisu Gat tippe7tce-v7orih. to mend her head, twopence 'When it was sair ; sore * The wife slade caimie to her bed, slid quietly ' But ne'er spak mair. more • The grave-digger. — R. B. Ged's Hole, the grave, the stomach of the insatiable pike. In Scotland the pike is called the ged. — J. H. t Churchyard, so<5»lled from being used as an enclosure for calves, etc. — J. IL X Death ia bed, wJaich was often of straw. — J. H. 104 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785 ' A country laird had ta'en the batts^ botts * Or some ciirmurring in his guts, disturbance 'His only son for Hornbook sets, ' An' pays him well : *The lad, for twa guid ^z'ww^r-/'^/^, two-year-old ewes ' Was laird himsel. land-owner ' A bonie lass — ye kend her name — ' Some ill-brewn drink had hov^ d her wame ; swelled ^ belly / ' She trusts hersel, to hide the shame, ' In Hornbook's Care ; ' Horn sent her aff to her lang ham^, 'To hide it there. 'That's just a swatch o' Hornbook's way ; sample ' 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— n'd dirt: ' But, hark ! I'll tell you of a plot, 'Tho' dinna ye be speakin o't ; 'I'll nail the self-conceited sot, ' As dead's a herrin ; *" Niest time we meet, I'll wad a groat, next wager ' He gets his fair in ! ' reward But just as he began to tell. The auld kirk-hammer strak the bell Some wee short hour ay out the twal^ beyond twelve Which rais'd us baith .* both I took the way that pleas' d mysel. And sae did Death. » ■ ^T. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 105 [The author himself has fixed the date of this poem, which, like Tam-o'-Shanter, was struck off almost complete at one heat ; for Gilbert has told us that his brother repeated the stanzas to him on the day following the night of the iiff with Wilson at the mason lodge. John Wilson, parish schoolmaster at Tarbolton, had also a small grocery shop where he sold common drugs, and gave occasional medical advice in simple cases, and thus became a person of some importance in the village. According to Mr. Lockhart, he was not merely compelled, through the force and widely-spread popularity of this attractive satire, to close his shop, but to abandon his school-craft also, in consequence of his pupils, one by one, deserting him. " Hornbook " removed to Glasgow, and, by dint of his talents and assiduity, at length obtained the respectable situation of session-clerk of Gorbals parish. He died January 13, 1839. Many a time in his latter days he has been heard, " over a bowl of punch, to bless the lucky hour when the dominie of Tarbolton provoked the castigation of Robert Burns." In the author's earlier editions the word did, in verse sixth, migrammatically reads "does;" and line fifth of the opening stanza reads thus : — " Great lies and nonsense baith to vend."] EPISTLE TO J. LAPRAIK, AN OLD SCOTTISH BARD. — APRIL I, 1 785. (K11.MARNOCK Ed., 1786.) While briers an' woodbines budding green, h.'n' paitricks SCraichin loud at e'en, partridges screeching An' morning poussie whiddin seen, hare scudding Inspire my muse. This freedom, in an unknown frien', I pray excuse. On Fasten-e'en* we had a rockin^ social meeting or bee To CO* the crack and weave our stockin ; to chat •Shrovetide, a festival that used to be religiously observed in Scotland.— J. H- 106 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. And there was miickle fun and jokin, much Ye need na doubt ; At length we had a hearty yokhi^ set-to At ^ sang about.'' song in turns There was ae sang, amang the rest, Aboon them a' it pleas' d me best, above That some kind husband had addrest To some sweet wife ; It thirCd the heart-strings thro' the breast, thniied A' to the life. I've scarce heard ought describ'd sae weel, What gen'rous, manly bosoms feel ; Thought I, ' ' can this be Pope, or Steele, Or Beattie's wark?" They tauld me ' twas an odd kind chiel toid feiiow About Muirkirk.* It pat VHQ^ fidgin-fain to hear't, excitedly eager An' sae about him there I spier' t; enquired Then a' that kent him round declar'd knew He had ingine ; genius {ingenium) 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, quieUy grave Or rhymes an' sangs he'd made himsel, Or witty catches — 'Tween Inverness an' Teviotdale, He had few matches. Then up I gat, an' swoor an aitk^ oath Tho' I should _pawn my pleugh an' graith^ harness * A Httle town amon^ the hills] in the southeast part of Ayrshire.— J. H. » *T. 27.] POEMS AND vSONGS. 107 Or die a cadger pozvnie' s death, hawker pony's At some dyke-back^ back of a fence A pint an' gill I'd gie them baith, To hear your crack. chat But, first an' foremost, I should tell, Amaist as soon as I could spell, I to the crambo-jingle fell, rhj-niing Tho' rude an' rough — Yet crooning to a bodfs Scl^ humming person's self Does Weel Oieilgh. well enough 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 — kno« To mak a sang ? ' ' But, by your leave, my learned foes, Ye' re maybe 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 ? serves Ye'd better taen up spades and shools^ shovels Or knappin-haiumcrs. stone-hammers A set o' dull, conceited hashes Confuse their brains in college classes ! fools 108 POEMS AND SONGS. [178s They gang in stirks^ and come out asses, year-oidj Plain truth to speak ; An' syiie they think to climb Parnassus, thereafter By dint o' Greek ! Gie me ae spark o' nature's fire, give That's a' the learning I desire ; Then tho' I drudge thro' dub an' mire mud At plengh or cart, plough My muse, tho' hamely in attire, May touch the heart. O for a spunk o' Allan's* glee, spark Or Fergusson's, the baidd ait^ slee^ bold and siy Or bright Lapraik's, my friend to be If I can hit it ! That would be lear eneugh for me, learning If I could get it. Now, sir, if ye hae friends enow, have Tho' real friends I b'lieve are few ; Yet, if your catalogue be//^', fuii r se no insist : i wui not But, gif y^ want ae friend that's true, if I'm on your list. I win?ta blaw about mysel, win not brag As ill I like my fauts to tell ; faults But friends, an' folk that wish me well, They sometimes roose me ; praise Tho' I maun own, as mony still must As far abuse me. * Allan Ramsay. » .^,T. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 109 There's ae wee faut thev whiles lav to me, °"^ "*"1 •' ^ -^ ' tie fault/ I like the lasses — Gude forgie me ! For mony a plack they wheedle frae me coax from} At dance or fair ; Maybe some ither thing they gie me, other give They weel can spare. weii But Mauchline Race * or Mauchline Fair, I should be proud to meet you there : We^se s^ie ae night's discharge to care, ^^ ^" \ 00 es J give one) If we forgather ; meet An hae a swap o' rhymin-ware interchange Wi' ane ailither. one another The four-gill chap,t we'se gar him clatter, make An' kirseii him wi' reekin water ; christen Syne we'll sit down an' tak our whitter^ then drink To cheer our heart ; An' faith, we'se be acquainted better Before we part. Awa ye selfish, warly race, woridiy Wha think' that havins^ sense, an' grace, manners Ev'n love an' friendship should give place To Catch-the-piack I money-making I diniia like to see your face, do not Nor hear your crack. chatter But ye whom. social pleasure charms. Whose hearts the tide of kindness warms. Who hold your being on the tenns, ' ' Each aid the others, ' ' Come to my bowl, come to my anns. My friends, my brothers ! *The race-course at Mauchline was on the high road near the poet's farm. tThe mutchkin, or pint, the largest measure for whiskey used in public- houses. — J. H. 110 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. But, to conclude my lang epistle, As my auld pen's worn to the gristle, Twa lines frae you wad gar me fissle,* Who am most fervent, While I can either sing or whistle, Your friend and servant. [We have already seen, in the epistle to Davie, how indulgently Burns regarded the rhyming qualities of his Ayrshire compeers. The song referred to in the third stanza of this poem com- mended itself so much to his sympathies that he took this method of becoming acquainted with its supposed author. We say supposed author ; for in reality it was not "Lapraik's own, but a piece he had found in an old magazine, whidh, by altering its structure a very little, and putting in a vScotch expression here and there, he had the assurance to pass off as his own compo- sition. Burns, who never knew or suspected the plagiarism, afterwards dressed up Lapraik's version and had it printed in Johnson's Museum, where it stands, No. 205, set to an air by Oswald. Lockhart praises the opening verse, but remarks that (this song excepted) "it is not easy to understand Burns' admira- tion of Lapraik's poetry." The reader will find the original poem in the Weekly Magazi7ie, October 14, 1773. John Lapraik was nearly sixty years old when Burns sought acquaintance with him. He had inherited, through a line of ancestors, a small croft near Muirkirk ; but happening to borrow money, by a bond thereon, from the Ayr Bank, he became in- volved in the ruin which soon overtook that unfortunate concern. On the strength of Burns' recorded admiration, the "Old Scottish Bard" ventured to have his poems printed, at the press of John Wilson, Kilmarnock; and these were published in 1788.] (Lapraik's poems had little success, Burns being nearly his sole admirer. Chambers tells us that Burns, when he received Lapraik's letter in reply to this epistle, was sowing ; and, so eagerly did he peruse it, that he let the sheet drop and spilled the seed, and it was not till he had finished reading that he discovered the loss he had sustained. — J. H.) * Would make me fidget with pleasure. » ■ -CT. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. Ill SECOND EPISTLE TO J. LAPRAIK. APRIL 21, 1785. (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) While new-cd'd kye rowte at the stake newiy-caivedj 7-11 ■ COWS low j An' pownies reek m pleugh or braik^ smoke . This hour on e'enin's edge I take, ^^^^^^^ harrow! To own I'm debtor To honest-hearted, auld Lapraik, For his kind letter. Forjcskct sair^ with weary legs, jaded sore Rattlin the corn oiit-owre the rigs^ ridges Or dealing thro' aniang the iiaigs nags Their ten-hours' bite, My awkwart muse sair pleads and begs I would na write. The tapetless, ramfeezl'd hizzie,* She's saft at best an' something lazy : Quo' she, "ye ken we've been sae busy This month an' mair. That trowth, my head is grown right dizzie, An' somethino- sair." '& Her dowff excuses pat me mad ; stupid put "Conscience," says I, "ye tJioivIessy3AQ.\ pithless I'll write, an' that a hearty bland ^ large broad-sheet This vera night ; So dinna ye affront your trade. But rhyme it right. •The silly, tired-out hussy. il2 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. " Shall bmild Lapraik, the king o' hearts, brave Tho' mankind were a pack o' cartes^ cards Roose you sae weel for your deserts, praise In terms sae friendly ; Yet ye' 11 neglect to shaw your parts show An' thank him kindly?" Sae I gat paper in a blmk^ instantly An' down gaed stumpie in the ink : went Quoth I, "before I sleep a wink, I vow I'll close it ; An' if ye winna mak it clink^ win not riiyme By Jove, I'll prose it!'' Sae I've begun to scrawl, but whether In rhyme, or prose, or baitJi thegither ; both Or some hotch-potch that's rightly neither, Let time mak proof; But I shall scribble down some blether nonsense Just clean aff-loof, off-hand My worthy friend, ne'er grudge an' carp, Tho' fortune use you hard an' sharp ; Come, kittle up your moorland harp tickle Wi' gleesome touch ! Ne'er mind how Fortune waft an warp ; She's but a b-tch. She's ^?>;2 me mony a /zW 2X^ fleg^ ^^^" squeeze | Sin' I could striddle owre a rig ; straddle But, by the L — d, tho' I should beg Wi' lyart POW^ grey head I'll laugh an' sing, an' shake my leg, As lang's I dow ! am able *rr. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 113 Now comes the sax-an-twentietli simmer I've seen the bud upo' the timmer, Still persecuted by the limmcr jade Frae year to year ; But yet, despite the kittle kimmer^ skittish wench I, Rob, am here. Do ye envy the city gent, Behint a kist to lie an' sklent ; chest prevaricate Or purse-proud, big wi' cent, per cent. An' VUlckle Wame^ large belly In some bit brugh to represent burgh A bailie'' S Pame? aldennan-s Or is't the panghty feudal thane ^ supercilious peer Wi' mffl'd sark an' glancing cane, shirt Wha thinks himsel 7iae sheep-shank bane^ °j^"° 1 But lordly stalks ; accouutJ While caps and bonnets aff are tae^t^ taken As by he walks? "0 Thou wha gies us each giiid gift ! gives good Gie me o' wit an' sense a lift, Then turn me, if Thou please adrift. Thro' Scotland wide ; Wi' cits nor lairds I zuadna shifty would not change 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 heaven, that's no the gate way We learn our creed. I. H 114 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785 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, And 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 nievefii' of a soul handful May in some future carcase howl. The forest's fright; Or in some day-detesting owl May shun the light Then may Lapraik and Bums 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 ! [Allan Cunningham says, respecting this poem, "I have heard one of our greatest English poets (Wordsworth) recite with com- mendation most of the stanzas, pointing out their all but inim- itable ease and happiness of thought and language. He re- marked, however, that Burns was either fond of out-of-the-way sort of words, or that he made them occasionally in his fits of feeling and fancy. The phrase, ' tapetless, ramfeezled hizzie,' in ♦Motherwell, without a word of comment, altered this reading to "ragged fol- lowers o' the nine," which certainly seems a more consistent one. The change is adopted by GilfiUan. ^T. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 115 particular, he suspected to be new to the Scotch dialect ; but I quoted to him the foUowiug passage from a letter of William Cowper, dated August, 1787: — 'Poor Burns loses much of his de- served praise in this country through our ignorance of his language. I despair of meeting with an}- Englislnnan who will take the pains that I have taken to understand him. His caudle is light, but shut up iu a dark lantern. I lent him to a very sen- sible neighbor of mine ; but the uncouth dialect spoiled all ; and, before he had read him through, he was quite ram/eezled.' "] EPISTLE TO WILLIAM SIMSON, SCHOOLMASTER, OCHILTREE. — MAY, 1 785. (Kilmarnock Ed., 17S6.) I gat your letter, zainsome Willie ; Rot Wi' gratefii' heart I thank you brawlie ; Tho' I matin say't, I wad be silly, And unco vain, Should I believe, my coaxin billie^ Your flatterin strain. must winning heartily would very brother But I'se believe ye kindly meant it : I Slid be laith to think ye hinted should loath Ironic satire, ' sidclins sklented glanced sideways On my poor musie ; Tho' in sic phraisin terms ye've penn'd it, flattering I scarce excuse ye. My senses wad be in a crccl^'^ Should I but dare a hope to speel^ Wi' Allan, t or wi' Gilbertfield,! The braes o' fame ; whirl climb heights *I should have lost my head. In Ayrshire, when a person is unduly excited er confused atiout anything, his sen.ses are said to be "in a creel." t Allan "Ramsay, a celebrated Scotch poet of the beginning of the seventeenth centurv', was a barber in l-^linburgh. llis best known piece is a drama entitled, "The (".entle Sluplurd " J William Hamilton, uf (".ilbcrtfuUl, a Scotch poet and contemporary of Allan Ramsay. 116 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. Or Ferg^sson,* the writer-chiel, A deathless name. (O Fergusson ! thy glorious parts 111 suited law's dr>', musty arts ! My curse upon your ivJmnstane hearts, whinstone Ye E'' JibriigJi gentr}^ ! Edinburgh The t>'the d' what ye waste at cartes of cards Wad stow' d his pantry !) stored Yet when a tale comes i' my head; Or lasses gie my heart a screed — ^ give rent As whiles they're like to be my dead^ sometimes death (O sad disease !) I kittle up my rustic reed ; tickle It gics me ease. gives Auld Coila,t now may fidge fiC fain^ fidget with pride She's gotten poets o' her ain; own Chiels wlia their chanters winna hain. feiiows bag-i pipes spare-* 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 style ; She lay like some unkenii' d-qf \s\q unknown Beside New Holland, Or wliare wild-meeting oceans boil Besouth Magellan. ♦Robert Fergusson, bom 1751, educated at University of St. Andrews, and em- ployed in the office of the Commissary Clerk, Edinburgh, published in 1773 a volume of poems characterized by humor, fancy and purity of language. Bums erected a memorial stone over his grave in Edinburgh. — J. H. fKyle. See note to The Twa Dogs, p. 203. X.t. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 117 Ramsay an' famous Fergusson Gied Forth an' Tay a lift aboon ; gave above Yarrow an' Tweed, to monie a tune, many Owre Scotland rings ; over While Irwin, Lugar, Ayr, an' Doon* Naebody sings. Th' missus, Tiber, Thames, an' Seine, Glide sweet in monie a tunefu' line : But, Willie, set your Jit to mine, f foot An' cock your crest ; erect We'll gar our streams an' bumies shine make Up wi^ the best ! with We'll sing auld Coila's plains an' fells ^ uplands Her moors red-brown wi' heather bells. Her banks an' braes ^ her dens and dells, heights hoiiows Whare glorious Wallace Aft bure the gree^ as story tells, bore the paim Frae Suthron billies, southern) competitors-* At Wallace' name, what vScottish blood But boils up in a spring-tide flood ! Oft have our fearless fathers strode By Wallace' side, Still pressing onward, red-wat-sliod, % Or glorious died ! O sweet are Coila's haiigJis an' woods, hoims When liyitzvhitcs chant amang the buds, linnets And jinkifi hares, in amorous whids^ % piayfui capers Their loves enioy ; J ^ ' wood-pigeon ) While thro' the braes the cushat crocyds coosi" With wailfic' cry ! waiiing * The four principal streams of Ayrshire, all iu, or bordering, Kyle. — J. H. t Unite with me.— J. H. \ Shoes wet with blood. jAdmirably descriptive of the amorous capers of March hares. — J. H. 118 POEMS AND SONGS. Ev'n winter bleak has cliarms for me, When winds rave thro' the naked tree ; Or frosts on hills of Ochiltree * Are hoary gray ; Or blinding drifts wild-furious fiee^ Dark'ning the day ! C1785. fly O Nature ! a' thy shews an' fomis 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 ! have The muse, nae poet ever fand her, found Till by himsel he learn' d to wander, aiiaione Adown some trottin burn's meander, An'' no think la7ig : notfinditduii O sweet to stray, an' pensive ponder A heart-felt sang ! The zvarly race may drudge an' drive, worwiy Hog-shouther, jundie,t stretch, an' strive ; Let me fair Nature's face descrive^ describe And I, wi' pleasure, Shall let the busy, grumbling hive j^^^ Bum owre their treasure, like^ a bee J Fareweel, "my rhyme-composing" brither ! We've been owre lang jinkcuji'd to ither : unknown Now let us lay our heads thegither. In love fraternal : May envy wallop in a tether^ struggle haitej Black fiend, infernal ! *A village on the Lugar some ten miles east of Ayr. — J. H. t Jostle with shoulder and elbow. ^er. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. While Higlilandmen hate tolls an' taxes ; While moorlan herds like guid, fat braxies ; * While terra firma, on her axis, Diurnal turns ; Count on a friend, in faith an' practice, In Robert Burns, f 119 shepherds dead sheep POSTSCRIPT. My memory's no worth o. preen; pin I had amaist forgotten clean, almost Ye bade me write you what they mean By this 'new-light, 'I 'Bout which our herds sae aft hae been pastors Maist like to fight, almost In days when mankind were but callans boys At grammar, logic, an' sic talents. They took nae pains their speech to balance, Or rules to gie ; give But spak their thoughts in plain, braid lallans. I _ parishes > Are mind't, in things they ca' balloons. To tak a flight ; An' stay ae month amang the moons one An' see them right. Guid observation they will gie them ; good give An' when the auld moon's gaun to led'e ^^^"g} them, The hindmost shaird, they'll fetch it wi' them, shred Just i' their pouch ; pocket An' when the "new-light" billies see them, brethren I think they'll crouch ! ♦This stanza tells how the orthodox have been in the habit of persecuting heretics, till the latter fled over the sea, and till the rulers of the State forbade such bloody pranks. — J. H. 122 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. Sae^ ye observe that a' this clatter so idle talk Is naething but a ' ' moonshine matter ; ' ' But tho' dull prose-folk Latin splatter In logic tulyie^ contention I hope we bardies koi some better know Than mind sic brulyie. broii [At the date of this epistle, WilUatn Simson was parish schoolmaster at the small village of Ochiltree, situated on the left bank of the river IvUgar, at a distance of five miles south from the poet's farm. He appears to have introduced himself to Burns by sending him a complimentary letter,^ after having seen some of his poems in manuscript, particularly the "Holy Tul- yie," to which Burns' postscript specially applies. In 1788, Sim- son was appointed parish teacher in the town of Cumnock, four miles farther up the Lugar, where he continued till his death, in 1815. It does not appear from the poet's correspondence, or other- wise, that the acquaintanceship betwixt Burns and Simson, thus so auspiciously begun in 1785, was continued in after-life. He was succeeded as teacher at Ochiltree in 17SS by a brother, Patrick Simson, who had been formerly parish schoolmaster at Straiton, in Carrick. A volume of rhyming-ware, left by William Simson, passed at his death into his brother's possession, and, judging from what has been published of its contents, he seems to have better merixed the distinction — -a "rhyme-composing brother" of Burns — than either Sillar or Lapraik. He had the good sense not to rush into print like them, on the mere strength of the kindly com- pliments paid to them by the Ayrshire Bard in his published epistles. After William Simson's death, his brother Patrick was often visited at Ochiltree by wandering pilgrims, for the sake of the interest conferred by this admired epistle. Allan Cunningham, confounding the one brother with the other, makes reference to William Simson as still surviving in 1834. Through the kind- ness of the Rev. D. Hogg, Kirkmahoe, we have been shewn "Winsome Willie's" signature, which is our authority for drop* ping the letter p from his surname.] ^T. 27.] POEMS AjND songs. 123 ONE NIGHT AS I DID WANDER. A FRAGMENT. — MAY, 1 785. (Cromek, 1808.) One niglit as I did wander, When corn begins to shoot, oats I sat me down to ponder, Upon an mt/d tree-root : old Auld Ayr ran by before me. And bicker' d to the seas ; careered cheerily A cushat croodcd o'er me, wood-pigeon cooed That echoed through the braes. [This fragment seems to have been intended as the opening of a poem similar in style to "Man was made to mourn." It has a descriptive ring about it, like the first verse of the "Holy- Fair;" and the scenery indicated is not unlike that of Balloch- myle or Barskimming, the two nearest points where the poet could reach the river Ayr from Mauchline. The fragment first appeared in company with another little unfinished piece, in which the poet contemplates crossing the ocean, and being severed from his "Jean."*] FRAGMENT OF SONG— "MY JEAN !" (JonN.soN's Museum, 17S8.) Tho' cruel fate should bid us part, Far as the pole and line, * This and the three immediately following pieces are in the very peculiar position, that, while they are inserted in the poet's Glenriddell abridgement of his first Coinmoii-place Hook, between the dates September, 17S4, and June, 17S5, they do not appear in the Common-place Hook itself, now preserved at Greenock. On examining carefully the latter manuscript, one is forced to the conclusion that these four pieces never at any time formed a portion of that book. Kobirt Chambers, who never saw the Greenock MS. referred to, was stumbled at so early a date as May,. 17^5, "being attached to these pieces, especially to the song about 'My Jean,'" which, from internal evidence, would seem to belong to the first half of 17S6. However, as liurns himself inserted these as forming a por- tion of his earliest Common-place Hook, ending in October, 17S5, wc feel bound to place them in the order of time to which he assigned tbem. 124 POEMvS AND vSONGS. [1785. Her dear idea round my heart, Should tenderly entwine. Tho' mountains rise, and deserts howl, And oceans roar between ; Yet, dearer than my deathless soul, I still would love my Jean. [The affection for Jean Armour displayed here is quite in keep- ing with the language and sentiment expressed in the "Epistle to Da\de." Indeed, on comparing these, the reader will naturally conclude that they must have been composed about the same date. In the one, we find the poet-lover thiis expressing him- self— -^ " Her dear idea brings relief and solace to my breast ;" and here he says, almost in the identical words — "Her dear idea round my heart shall tenderly entwine." Again, in the " Epistle," he invokes heaven to witness that — " The life-blood streaming through my heart, Or my more dear immortal part, Is not more fondly dear." And in this little song — ^the first sketch of the world-famous " Of a' the airts," &c. — the same language is employed: — "Yet, dearer than my deathless soul, I still would love my Jean." The complete copy of the "Epistle to Davie," which the poet pre- sented to Aiken in 1786, certainly bears the date "January, 1785," as we have already noticed ; but we must not therefore conclude (as Chambers does) that the ivhole of the poem was completed at so early a date. The references to Jean are thrown in near the close of the poem, and if it were now possible to get a sight of the original, as actually forwarded to Sillar in January, 1785, it would likely shew very different readings in the three closing stanzas, from those in the printed copy. The early date assigned to that poem was a puzzle to L/Ockhart, not only from its wonder- ful perfection in so very intricate and difficult a measure, but also from its glowing celebration of Jean during the very infancy of his acquaintance with her.] ST. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 125 SONG— RANTIN, ROVIN ROBIN. (Cromuk, 1808.) There was a lad was born in Kyle,* But whatna day o' wliatna style, f I doubt it's hardly worth the while To be sae nice wi' Robin. C/ior. — Robin was a rovin boy, Rantin, rovin, rantin, rovin, Robin was a rovin boy, Rantin, rovin Robin ! Our monarch's hindmost year but ane one Was five-and-twenty days begun, | 'Twas then a blast o' Jan war' win' Blew hansel § in on Robin. Robin was, &c. The gossip kcckit in his loof^ peered palm Quo' scJio^ "Wha lives will see the proof, she This ivaly boy will be nae coof: goodly blockhead I think we'll cd^ him Robin." caii Robin was, &:c. (( He'll hae misfortunes great an' sma\ have smaii But ay a heart aboon them n\ ever above aii He'll be a credit //// us a', — to We'll a' be proud o' Robin." Robin was, &c. * The central district of Ayrshire. See note on The Tn'a Dogs, p. 203. t Hut which day of which style. The new style of computing time had been lately introduced, and both styles were used at this time in Scotland. In cities the new style was generally adopted, but people living in remote country dis- tricts still adhered to the old style, as is the case in Russia to this day.— J. H. JJanuary 25, 1759, the date of my hardship's vital existence.— iV. K. 3 A hansel is the first gift given oil any particular occasion or at any particu lar season.— J. H. 126 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. * ' But sure as three times three mak nine, I see by ilka score and line, every This chap will dearly like our kin', So leeze me on* thee ! Robin." Robin was, &c. *' G^2/?^ faith," quo' scho, "I doubt you, sir, ^°°^} Ye gar the lasses lie aspar make But twenty fauts ye may hae waur faults worse So blessins on thee ! Robin." Robin was, &G. [Referring to our notes to the two preceding pieces, we may observe that this song displays a vivid forecast of the author's coming fame. Dr. Waddell, in the mistaken belief that it was composed in 1784, calls it "a perfect prophetic and pictorial idyll, which must be accepted as a very singular and truthful anticipation of his own future greatness." The only variation of the poet's text which we have to note is first found in Cunningham's edition (1834). His reading of the two opening lines of the closing stanza is as follows : — " Gude faith !" quo' scho, "I doubt you gar The bonie lassie lie aspar." The reverend editor above quoted says on this point: — "All attempts to decorate or to enrich this verse with better rhymes and worse sense, not only vitiate its moral integrity, but destroy its pictorial truthfulness ; in a word, vulgarise and debase it. That Cromek's edition is the correct edition, there cannot be a shadow of a doubt ; and it should be restored and preserved accord- ingly." Burns composed this song to the tune of "Dainty Davie," and he has anxiously pointed out that the chorus is set to the low part of the melody. Tempi eton, the eminent vocalist, selected another air — "O gin ye were dead, gudeman " — for his own sing- ing of this song, which necessitated not only an alteration of the words of the chorus to make it fit the music, but a change in other parts of the air to suit it to the words. The tune, "Dainty Davie," is one of our oldest ; it appears in Play ford's collection, ♦ I' " after he had issued bis prospectus to publish the wonderful Kilmarnock volume. It seems highly probable that it was intended to occupy the last page of that volume, but with- drawn when he had composed the far superior "Poet's Epitaph," which so beautifully closes the work. Until the original MS. shall be recovered, from which Cromek printed, in the " Reliques," the poet's own abridged copy of his first Common-place Book, the exact chronological position of the preceding four pieces cannot be definitely fixed.] * Fr. for rivulets, or bums, a play upon his own name. 9 » ■ Mr. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 129 EPISTLE TO JOHN GOLDIE, IN KILMARNOCK, AUTHOR OF THE GOSPEL RECOVERED. — AUGUST, 1 785. (The GlenriddelIv MSS., 1874.) O GOWDIE, terror ie, and were then the property of Professor Dugald Stewart. The fine scenery there is at the distance of about two miles from Mauchline, and was a favorite haunt of Burns while he lived at Mossgiel.] * Bums makes frequent use of the Scotch diminutive in ie with fine effect.— J. IL 142 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785- FRAGMENT— HER FLOWING LOCKS. (Cromek, 1808.) Her flowing locks, the raven's wing, Adown her neck and bosom king ; hang How sweet unto that breast to cling, And round that neck entwine her ! Her lips are roses wat wi' dew, wet O, what a feast, her bonie motiA mouth Her cheeks a 7nair celestial hue, more A crimson still diviner! [This little "artist's sketch" of female loveliness has no certain history attached to it. Cunningham connects it with a Mauchline incident ; and, if he is right in that respect, it seems probable that our poet intended it as a portrait of Miss Whitefoord.] HALLOWEEN.* [Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.] The following poem will, by many readers, be well enough understood ; but for the sake of those who are unacquainted with the manners and traditions of the country where the scene is cast, notes are added, to give some account of the principal charms and spells of that night, so big with prophecy to the peasantry in the west of Scotland. The passion of pry- ing into futurity makes a striking part of the history of human nature in its rude state, in all ages and nations ; and it may be some entertainment to a philosophic mind, if any such honor the author with a perusal, to see the remains of it among the more enlightened in our own. — R. B. * (All Hallow Eve or the eve of All Saints' Day) is thought to be a night when witches, devils, and other mischief-making beings are all abroad on their bane- ful, midnight errands; particularly those aerial people, the fairies, are said, on that night, to hold a grand anniversary.—/?. £. » j£.r. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 143 " 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. Upon that niglit, when fairies light On Cassilis Downans * dance, Or owre the lays^ in splendid blaze, over leaa On sprightly coursers prance ; Or for Colean the rout is ta'en, Beneath the moon's pale beams ; There, up the Cove,t to stray an' rove, Amang the rocks and streams To sport that night : Amang the bonie winding banks. Where Doon ri7ts^ wimplm^ clear ; nms meandering Where Bruce % ancc ruled the martial ranks, once An' shook his Carrick spear ; Some merry, friendly, country-folks Together did convene. To burn their 7iits. an' Pou their stocks. ""*•'' p"" t . ^ ' kale-stalks f An' hand their Halloween hoid FlC blytJlC that night. fuU merry The lasses fcat^ an' cleanly neat, trim A fair braw than when they're fine ; more attractive Their faces blythe, fu' sweetly k'ythi\ appear Hearts leal^ an' warm, an' khi^ : loyai kind ♦Certain little, romantic, rocky, green hills, in the neighborhood of tlie ancient Beat of the Karls of Cassilis.— A'. li. tA noted cavern near Colean House, called the Cove of Colean ; which, ns well as Cassilis Downans, is famed, in the country, for being a favorite luuiiil of the fairies. — A'. /?. t The famous family of that tiamc, the ancestor of R()Iii:kt, the great deliverer of his country, were Karls of Carrick.— A'. B. Carrick is the most southern ot the three divisions of Ayrshire, which are Cunningham, Kyle and Carrick. 144 POEMS AND SONGS. L1785. The lads sae U'ig^ wi' wooer-babs spruce love-knots Weel-knotted on their garteti ; garter Some 2inco blate. an' some ^N'\^ grabs ^^^^^^'^'^^'^y ^'^y\ „ , , ' ^. chatter/ Lrar lasses hearts gang startin make go beating Whyles fast at night. sometimes Then, first an' foremost, thro' the kail^ greens Their ' stocks ' * maiui a' be sought ance ; must They steek their een^ an' grape an' shut eyes grope wale choose For muckle anes, an' straiight^ anes, large straight Poor hav'rel Will fell aff the drift, ^ent'^aUwiong} An' wandered thro' the ' bow-kail, f An' poll' t, for want o' better shift, puued A runt, was like a sow-tail staik Sae boviP t that night. crooked Then, stratight or crooked, yird or nane, They roar an' cry a' throwHher ; The vera wee-things, toddlin, rin, Wi' stocks out owre their shonther : An' p-// the custoJz' s sweet or sour, whether) ^ ■' ' heart of the stalk i Wi' joctelegs % they taste them ; ciasp-knives Syne cosily, aboo7i the door, snugiy above straight earth none confusedly children run 1 totteringlyi stalks over shoulder *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 proper appellation, the •'runts," are placed somewhere above the head of the door; and the Christian names of people whom chance brings into the house are, according to the prior- ity of placing the "runts," the names in question. — R. B. t Cabbage. The cabbage-stalk is a miserable make-shift for the legitimate kale-runt. None but a poor "hav'rel" like Willie would ever draw a cabbage for a kale. This is another of Burns' inimitable minute touches of humor.— J. H. X See note on p. 132. . aET. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 146 Wi' cajinic care, they've plac'd them cunning To lie that night.* The lasses staw frae 'mang them a',t To potc their stalks o' corn ; % pun But Rab slips out, an' jinks about, dodges Behint the muckle thorn : large He grippe t Nelly hard an' fast ; caught Loud skirV d a' the lasses ; screamed But her tap-pickle § maist was lost, nearly Whan kiiUlin in the ' fause-house ' || fondling Wi' him that night. The aiild giiid-wife^ s weel-hoordit nits** Are round an' round divided. An' mony lads' an' lasses' fates Are there that night decided : Some kindle couthie^ side by side. An' burn thegither triml)' ; Some start awa wi' saucy pride, An' jump out owre the cJiiuilie Fu' high that night. old mistress' 1 well-hoarded i lovingly together chimney •They must be placed with such care that it can be easily distinguished under whose " runt" each particular entrant next morning passes — J. H. tThe girls stole out from. amongst them all. t They go to the barnyard, and pull each, at three several times, a stalk o^ oats. If the tliird stalk wants the "top-pickle," that is, the grain at the top ol the stalk, the party in question will come to the niarriagc-bed anytliing but a maid.—/?. B. 'i Maidenhood. The " tap-pickle " is the most valuable grain of the ear. II When the corn is in a doubtful state, by being too green or wet, the stack- builder, by means of old timber, etc.. makes a large apartment in his .stack, with an opening in the ^side which is fairest exposed to the wind: this he calls a " fau.se-liouse." — A', li. ** Burning the nuts is a favorite charm. They name the lad and lass to cacn 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.—/?. B. 146 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. Jean slips in twa, wi' tcntic e^ e ; watchful eye Wlia 'twas, she wadna tell ; would not But this is Jock^ an' this is me, jack She says in to hei^sel : to herself He bleezi d oivre her, an' she owre him, wazed over As they wad never mair part ; would more Till fuflf! he started up the hnn^ chimney And Jean had e'en a sair heart sore To see't that night. Poor Willie, wi' his bow-kail riuit^ cabbage-stock Was brunt wi' primsie Mallie ; prudish Ma^rJ} An' Mai:y', nae doubt, took the druiit^ pet To be compar'd to Willie : Mall's nit lap out, wi' pridefu' fling leapt An' her ain fit^ it brunt it ; own foot bumed While Willie lap, an' swoor by 'jing,' swore 'Twas just the way he wanted To be that night. Nell had the ' fause-house ' in her min', She pits hersel an' Rob in ; puts herseii In loving bleeze they sweetly join, biaze Till white in ase they're sobbin : ashes Nell's heart was dancin at the view; She whisper' d Rob to Iciik for't : Rob, stowlins^ prie' d her bonie stealthily mott^ Fu' cozie in the iieiik for't, enugiy look tasted mouth nook Unseen that night. But Merran sat beliint their backs, Her thoughts on Andrew Bell ; She lea'es them gashiii at their cracks,* An' slips out by hersel : Marion •She leaves them busily engaged in their gossip. ACT. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 147 She thro' the yard the Clearest taks^ An' for the kiln she goes then, An' darklins grapet for the ^ banks ^'' groped And in the 'blue-clue'* throws then, Right y^ vaporing burning cinder worsted through and) through ' dare ♦Whoever would, with success, try this spell, must strictly observe these direc- tions : Steal out, all alone, to the kiln, and, darkling, throw into the "pot" a clue of blue yarn ; wind it in a new clue off the old one ; and, towards the latter end, something will hold the thread : demand, " Wlia bauds?" i. c, who holds? and answer will be returned from the kiln-pot by naming the christian and sur- name of your future spouse. — R. B. fTake 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 j'our shoulder.— A'. li. J She puffed her pipe with such fury that she made its contents red hot, and an ember fell out and burned a hole in her apron. — J. H. 2 A technical term in female scolding.— A", li. 148 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. As seek the foul thief ony place, d— 1 any For him to spae your fortune : foretell Nae doubt but ye may get a sight ! ^^^^^^^^'^^\ Great cause ye hae to fear it ; have For mony a ane has gotten a fright, An' liv'd an' died deleeret^ deiinom On sic a night. such *'Ae hairs t afore the Sherra-moor, * harvest I mind't as weel's yestreen — yester-eve I was a gilpey then, I'm sure ^ young hussy I was na past fyfteen : not The simmer had been caiild afi^ wat^ coid and wet An' stuff was unco' green ; crops uncommonly An' ay a rantin kirn we gClt^ merry harvest-home got An' just on Halloween It fell that night. '* Our ' stibble-rig ' was Rab M'Graen, "^^^^^"^ °^ ^he , ■^ reapers j A clever, sturdy fallow ; feiiow His sin gat Eppie Sim wi' wean^ son Eispeth child That liv'd in Achmacalla : He gat hemp-seed, t I mind it weel, An' he made 2uico light o't ; very But mony a day was by hijnsel^ many out of his mind He was sae sairly frighted so That vera night." * The battle of Sheriffmuir was fought between the Jacobite clans, led by the Earl of Mar, and the Royalists, led by Argyle, in 1715, on the northern slope of the Ochil hills, near Dunblane. — J. H. + 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." — R. B, aJi ;7] POEMS AND SONGS. 140 Then up %2X fcchtin Jamie Fleck, fighting An' he swoor by his conscience, swore That he could saw hemp-seed a peck ; For it was a' but nonsense : The auld guidman raiight down the pock^ reached An' out a handfu' gied him ; gave Syne bad him s\v^ frae 'mang the folk, then from Sometime when nae ane see' d him, observed An' try't that night. He marches thro' amang the stacks, oat-stacks Tho' he was something stitrtin ; nervous The graip he for a harrow taks, three-pronged-fork An' haurls at his ciirpin : drags rear And ev'ry now an' then, he says, ' ' Hemp-seed I saiu thee, sow An' her that is to be my lass Come after me, an' draw thee As fast this night." He whistl'd up 'Lord Lenox' March,'* To keep his courage cheery ; Altho' his hair began to arch, He was sa.& /ley''d an' eerie: frightened dismal Till presently he hears a squeak. An' then a grane an' griintle ; groan gmnt He by his shouther gae a keek, over gave a peep An' tumbled wi' a wintle reel Out-owre that night. right over He roar'd a horrid murder-shout. In dreadfu' desperation ! An' young an' auld come rin7iin out, running An' hear the sad narration : * A popular Scotch tune. 150 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. He sraoor ^twas kzlc/n?t Jean M' Craw, swore limping Or croiidiie Merran Humphie — crook-backed Marion Till stop ! she trotted thro' them a' ; An' wha was it but grumpJiie the pig Asteer that night? stirring Mes: fain wad to the barn zaen, Margaret would. ^ . , , , . have gone/ To Winn three wechts o' naethnig ; * winnow But for to meet the deil her lane^ by herself She pat but little faith in : ^ad not much heart for She gies the herd a pickle nits, ^ cow-herd few An' twa red cheekit apples, two To watch, while for the barn she sets, In hopes to see Ta)n Kipples Tom That vera night. She turns the key wi' canjiie thraw^ cauUous twist An' owre the threshold ventures ; over But first on Sawnie gies a r«', Alexander can Syne bauldly in she enters : boidiy A ration rattl'd up the wa\ rat waii An' she cry'd, L — d preserve her ! An' ran thro' midden-hole an' a', dung-pit An' pray'd wi' zeal and ferv^or, Fii^ fast that night. fuii They hoyH out Will, wi' sair advice ; "'"s^'^ '""^^ They hecht him some fine braw ^«^; pretty girii * 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 w^ill pass through the bam, 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. — R. B. (A wecht is like a riddle, only having leather in place of wire. A small wecht resembles a drum.-head. — J. H.) ■}.■ art. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 151 It chanc'd the stack \^^ faddoniH thrice,* fathomed Was timmer-propt for thrawin : f He taks a swirlie auld moss-oak crooked For some black, grousome carlin ; ugiy old woman An' loot a winze, an' drew a stroke, ""^'■^'^^" \ , ^i.iw-^»_, imprecation J Till skin in blypes cam haitrlin large pieces stripping Aff's nieves that night, off his fists A wanton widow Leezie was, Elizabeth As cafitie as a kittlen ; piayfui kitten But ocli ! that night, amang the shaws, trees She gat a fearfu' scttlin ! She thro' the whins, an' by the cairn, An' owre the hill gaed scrievin ; Whare three lairds'' Ian'' s met at a burn,t To dip her left sark-sleeve in. Was bent that night. setting down heap of stones careering land-owners' ) estates i shirt-sleeve Wliyles owre a linn the burnie plays. As thro' the glen it zvimpP t ; Whyles round a rocky scanr it strays, Whyles in a luicl it dimpl't ; Whyles glitter' d to the nightly rays, Wi' bickcrin, dancin dazzle ; Whyles cookitX underneath the braes. Below the spreading hazle Unseen that night. sometimes) cascade > meandered blufl( eddy luu«ying coquetted •Take an opportunity of goinp unnoticed to a "bear-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 coujuKal yokefellow.— A'. H. t Propped up by timber to keep it erect, or from throwing.— J. H. \ 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.—/?. B. 152 POEMS AND SONGS. [178^ Amang the brackens^ on the brae^ ferns knou Between her an' the moon, The deil, or else an outlcr qtiey^ outlying heifer Gat up an' go' e a croon: gave low Poor Leezie's heart maist lap the leapt from 1 ■^ its case i hool ; Near lav' rock-height she jumpet, lark-high But mist a fit^ an'' in the pool missed a foot and Out-owre the lugs she plumpet, ears Wi' a plunge that night. In order, on the clean hearth-stane, The ' luggies ' * three are ranged ; An' ev'ry time great care is to' en taken To see them duly changed : Aiild uncle John, ivha wedlock's joys old who Sin' 'Mar's-year' t did desire, Because he gat the loom dish thrice, empty He heav'd them on the fire, In wrath that night. Wi' merry sangs, an' friendly cracks, I wat they did na weary ; wot not And unco tales, an' funnie jokes — strange mysterious Their sports were cheap an' checiy : cheerful Till butter' d sow'' ns^ % wi' fragrant fine meai porridge lunt^ steam Set a' their gabs a-stcerin ; mouths agoing ♦Take three dishes, put clean water in one, foul water in another, and leave the third emptj' ; 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 mar- riage at all. It is repeated three times, and every time the arrangement of the dishes is altered. — R. B. (Luggies are wooden mugs with ear-shaped handles. -J. H.) 11715, when the Earl of Mar headed an insurrection. See note on Sherramuir, at Stanza 13. I Sowens, with butter instead of milk to them, is always the Halloween Sup- per.— i?. B. ier. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 153 Syne, wi' a social glass o' striint^ then spirits They parted aff careeriu Fu' blythe that night. [The author's own notes to this long descriptive poem are so complete, that we require to add very little to the information they contain. The poet has selected, as the scene of those old customs and superstitious ceremonies, not the locality of his riper years, but that of his infancy and boyhood. Both in AUoway and at Mount Oliphant, he lived in the close neighborhood of Colzean and Cassilis Downans. (Many of the ceremonies appropriate to Halloween have now fallen into disuse. Meetings of young peo- ple still take place, both in town and country ; but their frolics are usually limited to ducking for apples in tubs of water, burn- ing nuts, the lottery of the "luggies," and pulling kale-stalks. -J. H.) In the sixteenth stanza, the mention of a place is introduced, which the poet names " Achmacalla." We believe there is no such locality in Carrick, or even in Ayrshire ; the rhyme required it, and the name was coined accordingly. The fourth stanza from the close of the poem is generally quoted as the finest descriptive passage, within small compass, to be found in poesy. Respecting this production, Mr. Lockhart says, — "Hallowe'en, a descriptive poem, perhaps even more exquisitely wrought than the ' Holy Fair,' and containing nothing that could offend the feelings of anybody, was produced about the same period. Burns' art had now reached its climax."] TO A MOUSE, ON TURNING HER UP IN HER NE.ST WITH THE PLOUGH NOVEMBER, 1785. (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) Wee, sleeket^ co7vrhi^ tiiii'roiis bcastie, .^leek crouching O, what a panic's in thy breastie ! Thou need na start awa sae hasty, Wi' bicker i)l brattle! scurrying scampei I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee, loatb Wi' nuirderin' pattle ! * •An implement for clearing tlic plow of clods, etc. — J. H. 154 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. 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 ! on OC-) casions ' I doubt na, whyles^ but thou may thieve ; What then? poor beastie, thou maun live ! must A daimen icker in a thrave * twenty-four sheaves 'S a smd' request ; "" smaii I'll get a blessin wi' the lave^ rest An' never miss't! Thy wee bit hoiisie^ \ too, in ruin ! tiny little house It's silly wd' s the ivhi' s are strewin ! waiis winds An' naething, now, to big a new ane^ buiid one O' fos-^age green ! ^''^' ^^^^:^^^^ ] y <^A d & ^ vegetation ) An' bleak December's winds ensuin, Baith snell an' keen ! biting Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste, An' weary winter comin fast, An' cosie here, beneath the blast, snugiy comfortable Thou thought to dwell — Till crash ! the cruel coulter past ploughshare Out thro' thy cell. That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble^ stubbie Has cost thee mony a weary nibble ! Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble, But house or hald^ without hold To thole the winter's sleety dribble, endure An' cranreiich cauld! hoar-frost coid * An occasional ear in a large shock. — J. H. t Note here the extreme felicity of the piled-up diminutives, adjectival and termiuational. The ending ie is the common Scotch diminutive ; oc or ock is also common in Ayrshire, as Hughoc, little Hugh, lassock, a little lass.— J. H. ^T. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 155 But Mousie, thou art no //^y /ane, aione In proving foresight may be vain ; The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men Gaitg aft aglcy^* oft miscarry An' lea^e us nought but grief and pain, leave For promised joy ! Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me ! The present only toucheth thee : But och ! I backward cast my ^V, ^e On prospects drear ! An' forward, tho' I canna see, I guess an' fear ! [We have no variations to note here. The poem seems to have issued perfect from the mint of the author's mind, when he sud- denly stopped the ploughshare's farther progress on observing the tiny creature escape across the rig. This is generally regarded as one of the most faultless of the author's productions, and unmatched even by the "Mountain Daisy" in originality and interest. "It is difficult to decide (writes Currie) whether this 'Address' should be considered as serious or comic. If we smile at the ' bickering brattle ' of this little flying animal, it is a smile of tenderness and pity. The descriptive part is admirable ; the moral reflections beautiful, arising directly out of the occasion ; and in the conclusion there is a deep melancholy, a sentiment of doubt and dread that rises to the sublime."] (Burns ploughed with four horses, and required a "gadsman" to assist in driving, while he held the plough. John Blane, who acted as "gadsman" on this occasion, Chambers tells us, sur- vived Burns sixty years, and had a distinct recollection of turn- ing up the mouse. Boy-like, he ran after the creature to kill it, but was checked and recalled by his master, who, he observed, became tlicrcafter thoughtful and abstracted. Burns soon after read the poem to Blane. — J. H.) •Few, If any, of Burns' inimitably terse and pitliy ajiliorisnis have liecn so fiequently quoted as this. l'"rnu).;lit with wit and wisdom, it has become prover- bial wherever the English language is known.— J. U. 156 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. EPITAPH ON JOHN DOVE, INNKEEPER. (Stewart and Meikle's Tracts, 1799.) Here lies Johnie Pigeon ; What was his religion Whaever desires to ken^ whoever know To some other warV world Maun follow the carl^ must feiiow For here Johnie Pigeon had nane ! none Strong ale was ablution— ^t Small beer — persecution, A dram was ''^ memento 7nori P"* But a full-flowing bowl Was the saving his soul, And port was celestial glory. [The only variation to be noted here is in the last line but one: Chambers has "the joy of his soul;" but the change is no improvement, whatever the authority for it. John Dove, or more familiarly, "Johnie Doo," was mine host of the Whitefoord Arms Inn at Mauchline, in the main street, opposite the church, at the corner of a cross street, named Cowgate. If we mistake not, he was the "Paisley John" of another poem by Burns, which would indicate that he originally hailed from that town. We have Gil- bert Burns' authority for believing that the poet never frequented public houses till he had almost formed the resolution to become an author. Certain it is, before the close of the year 1785, Burns was the leading member of a bachelor's club of a very odd character, which held stated meetings at the "Whitefoord Arms." It was a kind of secret association, the professed object of which was to search out, report, and discuss the merits and demerits of the many scandals that cropped up from time to time in the village. The poet was made perpetual president ; John Richmond, a clerk with Gavin Hamilton, writer, was appointed "Clerk of Court" — for they dignified the mock solemnity of their meetings by adopting judicial styles and forms ; — James Smith, a draper in the village, was named "procurator fiscal," and to William Hunter, shoemaker — " weel skill'd in dead and living leather"^ was assigned the office of " messenger-at-amis. " Having premised tluis much concerning this club of rare fellows, we refer the reader to page 400 for the "Court of Equity."] 9 s,r. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 167 EPITAPH FOR JAMES SMITH. (Stewart, 1801.) Lament him, Mauchline husbands a\ He a/ten did assist ye ; For had ye staid hale weeks awa, Your wives they Jie^er had miss'd ye. all often whole never Ye Mauchline bairns^ as on ye press To school in bands thegither^ O tread ye lightly on his grass, — Perhaps he was your father ! children together [In the above lampoon upon "fiscal Smith," and libel on the matrons of Mauchline, we see the nature of the "cases" that were usually brought before the solemn "Court" assembled iu the Whitefoord Arms. The poet, in his fine " Epistle to J. S.," describes his friend as of "■ scrimp et stature," but of scanty manly configuration and character.] ADAM ARMOUR'S PRAYER. (Hogg and Motherwki.i.'s Ed., 1834.) GuDE pity me; because I'm little ! c-d For though I am an elf o' mettle, An' can, like ony wabsfcr" s shuttle, Jink there or here, Yet, scarce as /^//i^'.v a mide kail-ivhittlc, *''"l , I'm unco queer. uncommon any weaver's move niinhly tall An' now Thou kens our wocfu' case ; For Geordie's "yV/rr" we're in di.sgracc, joumrywoman 158 POEMS AND SONGS. [178s Because we "stang'd" * her through the place, An' hurt her splcuchan ; P"''J^°jf } For whilk we daurna show our face which dare not Within the clachaii. village An' nov7 vfo^r^ dernd in dens and hollows, lying hid And hunted, as was William Wallace, Wi' constables — thae blackguard fallows — these An' sodgers baith ; soldiers also But Gude preserve us frae the gallows, from That shamefu' death ! Auld grim black-bearded Geordie's seV — self O shake him owrc the mouth o' hell ! over There let him hiiig^ an' roar, an' yell hang Wi' hideous din^ noise And if he offers to rebel, Then heave him in. When Death comes in wi' glimmerin blink^ glance An' tips auld driicken Naiise^ the wink, drunken Nancy May Sautan gie her doup a clink bottom hasty set-down Within his yett^ gate An fill her up wi' brimstone drink, Red-reekin het. hot Though Jock an' /^«^/V^/ Jean % are merry — j^^jf ^ff^^^ j Some devil seize them in a hurry, An' waft them in th' infernal wherry Straught through the lake, straight An' gie their hides a noble curry give Wi' oil of aik ! § *" Riding the stang " was a kind of lynch law, executed against obnoxious persons, by carrying them shoulder-high through the village astride a rail.— J. H f Geordie's wife. % Geordie's son and daughter, g Curry their hides with an oak-stick.— J. H. » ■ <«T. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 159 As for the "jurr" — J)u/r worthless body! poor She's got mischief enough already ; Wi' stanget hips, and buttocks bluidy, stang-ridden She's suffer' d sair ; But may she wintle in a woody, * If she wh — e niair ! [This very free production was first printed in the Edinburgh Magazine of January, 1808. Although the poem may not be entitled to rank with the author's higher efforts in the same style, yet few reiiders will be inclined to dispute that it fairly establishes its own paternity. It is certainly one of a group of hasty comic eftusions dashed off by Burns at this period in con- nection with the Whitefoord Arms conventions already spoken of. The parents of Jean Armour lived at the back of the Inn ; but Adam Armour, who is the subject of the present poem, was m no way related to her. The " Geordie " of the piece was another Mauchline innkeeper, whose "jurr," or female servant, had committed some sexual error that caused a kind of "hue and cry" against her among the neighbors. Thus encouraged, a band of reckless young fellows, with Adam Armour for a ringleader, " rade the stang " upon the poor sinner. Geordie, who sympa- thised with his "jurr," resented this lawless outrage, and got criminal proceedings raised against the perpetrators. Adam Armour, who was an ill-mad^ little fellow of some determination, had to abscond, and during his wanderings he happened to fall in with Burns, who, after commiserating the little outlaw, conceived the "Prayer" here put into his lips.] THE JOLLY BEGGARS : A CANTATA. (Stewart and Miciki.e's Tracts, i799-) Recitativo. When lyart leaves bestrow the r/;'(y, withered earth Or wavering like the bauckie-bird,t Bedim cauld Boreas' blast ; siautingi When hailstanes drive wi' bitter skytc\ str^i^e i • Wriggle in a halter, properly in a halter made of witheB. — ^J. H. t The old Scotch uame for the bat.— A'. B. 160 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. And infant frosts begin to bite, In hoary cranreiich drest ; hoar-frost Ae night at e'en a merry core party O' randie^ gangrel bodies^ reckless vagrant folks In Poosie-Nansie's held the splore^ carousal To drink their orra diiddies : superfious rags Wi' quaffing and laughing, They ranted an' they sang, frcUcked noisily Wi' jumping an' thumping. The vera girdle * rang. First, 7tiest the fire, in aiild red rags, next oia Ane sat, weel brac'd wi' mealy bags,t And knapsack a' in order ; His doxy lay within his arm ; mistress Wi' usqucbae an' blankets warm whisky She bliiiket on her sodger : looked amorously An' ay he gies the tosie drab fuddled The tither skeipin kiss, other noisy While she held up her greedy gab^ mouth Just like an aumous dish : % Ilk smack still did crack still, Just like a cadger's § whip ; Then staggering an' swaggering, He roar'd this ditty up — * A circular iron plate used in Scotland for baking oat-raeal cakes and " scones " Dn over the fire ; a griddle. It is by no means sonorous ; so from its ringing one may judge of the riotous character of the "splore." — J. H. + See note following. \ Alms-dish : the Scottish beggars used to carry a large wooden dish for the reception of such alms as they received in the form of cooked food. They still more commonly carried a bag, called a meal-poke, to contain the handfuls of oat- meal which was gfiven them in place of money. — J. H. g The cadger was a hawker, who travelled the country with a horse or ass, carrying two panniers loaded with merchandise. The term came to be applied to any one who drove a cart regularly for hire ; as, a coal-cadger. — J. H. m ni /I'jyd T _ '-1 .itc, hoar-frost IST, frclicked noisily fu<-llJif.> other noi "^'»n di THE JOLLY BEGGARS—" I am a son of Mars who have been in many wars." f x.t. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 161 AIR. ^i^ — < f^- ^^^ 1 am a son of Mars, who have been in ma - ny wars. And show my cuts P^ m^-m- 5i=e: ii-=ti?=t: -^—-^ '^^ -w r r - =t and scars wher - ev - er I come ; This here was for a wench, and that -»■ — l>--t N . T -l P=:=g= oth-er in a trench, When wel - com - ing the French at the sound of the drum. ^^^^^^^^^ii^g^^ ^^^^ -J^-4>^— K- ^- My pren - tice - ship I past where my lead - er breathed his last,When the blood-y die was cast on the heights of A - bram : I serv'd out my trade when the gal - lant game ? :js=db t=l^ M=Mz S wasplay'd, And the Mo - ro low was laid at the sound of the drum: I served out my trade when the gal - lant game was play 'd, I served out my trade when the gal-lantgamewasplay'd, Andthe Mo - ro low was laid at the sound of the drum. Tune.—" Soldier's Joy." I am a son of Mars who have been in many wars, And show my cnts and scars wherever I come ; This here was for a wench, and that other in a trench, When welcoming the French at tlie sound of the drum. Lai de dandle, ike. L K 162 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. My prenticeship I past where my leader breath' d his last, When the bloody die was cast on the heights of Abram : * And I served out my trade when the gallant game was play'd, And the Moro t low was laid at the sound of the drum. 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 Blliot§ to lead me, I'd clatter on my stumps at the sound of a drum. 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^ trull As when I used in scarlet to follow a drum. 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, 1| and the tother bottle tell, I could meet a troop of hell, at the sound of a drum. * The battle-ground in front of Quebec, where Wolfe victoriously fell in Sep- tember, 1759. t El More was the castle that defended the harbor of Santiago, a small island near the southern coast of Cuba. It was taken by the British in 1762, after which Havanna surrendered. — J. H. t The destruction of the famous Spanish floating batteries, during the famous siege in 1782, on which occasion Captain Curtis signalized himself I G. A. Elliot (I^ord Heathfield), who defended Gibraltar during a siege of three years. I Bag of oatmeal collected by begging and sold for whisky. — J. H. ^3T. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 1G3 Recitativo. He ended ; and the kebars sheuk^ rafters shook A boon the chorus roar ; above While frightened rations backward leuk^ rats look An' seek the benrnost bore : innermost hole A fairy fiddler frae the neuk^ nook He skirl' d out, encore ! But up arose the martial cJmck^ hen An' laid the loud uproar. AIR. Lively. ^ ^ ^ ■ LT^^ g ^ ; =i:p^ ^^2 qs=|t -^-wt- ^^3: 3cr=f5r I once was a maid, though 1 can - not tell when. And still my de - light is in i sa ^jgggS^^^^-a M ^^ pro - per young men; Someone of a troop of dra - goons was my dad - die. No -^m-=ffz Sipaips^ii^i^^^^ won - dcr I'm fond of a sod - ger lad - die. Sing lal de dal, &c. f [§--=^5--^ -f*— 1» ~g ^ ^ \ ii^ J — i^ IE —i^ 1 ^ L_^ ^1 — 1^ — ^^^^^i^^^jg ^^^^i^^^^^^p- 7««^. — " Sodger 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 dc dal, &c. The first of my loves was a .swaggering blade. To rattle the thundering drum was his trade ; 164 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. His leg was so tight, and his cheek was so ruddy, Transported I was with my sodger laddie. 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 risket the body, nskee 'Twas then I prov'd false to my sodger laddie. 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 J was ready, I asked no more but a sodger laddie. "fc>^ 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 it rejoic'd at a sodger laddie. And now I have liv'd — I know not how long. And still I can join in a cup and a song ; But whilst with both hands I can hold the glass steady, Here's to thee, my hero, my sodger laddie. Recitativo. [Poor Merry-Andrew, in the neuk^ comer Sat guzzling wi' a tinkler-hizzie ; unker wench They mind't na wha the chorus tetik took Between themselves they were sae busy : At length, wi' drink an' courtin dizzy. He stoiter' d up an' made a face ; staggered Then tum'd, an' laid a smack on Grizzle^ kiss Grace Syne tun'd his pipes wi' grave grimace. • Cunningham fair was held at Stewarton, near Kilmarnock. » ^T. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 16j AIR. Lively. Et#i.Qr=j_. i:Jr=z*r=p=:=pr=5_:r=:p ^ — -J- - »^S ■ . — g— L I ■ Sir Wis-dom'sa fool when he's fou, Sir Knave is a fool in a ses-sion; g^Sg^^^^^^E^^^^^ He's there but a pren-tice, I trow. But I am a fool by pro- fcs -sion. ^^^^^^^^^^^^ -b^ — a*- My gran - nie she bought me a beuk. And I held a - wa to the school ; I §^E^E^S^iHi^ig^^^i=S^^^3=1 fear I my ta - lent mis - teuk. But what will ye hae of a fool? 7««■««*) 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^ ^'^''"'^boo'u } An' I held awa to the school ; I fear I my talent niistcuk^ mistook But what will ye hac of a fool ? have For drink I would venture my neck ; A hizzie' s the half of my craft ; wench But what could ye other expect, Of ane that's avowedly daft? crazy I ance was tyed up like a stirk^\ yearling steer For civilly sweariuji^ and quaffing ; • Apparently, when beinjj tried for some offence. t This refer.s to the punishment of the " Jougs," an iron collar padlocked round a culprit's neck in a public thoroughfare. 166 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785- I ance was abus'd z' the kirk, in For touzlin^ a lass i' my dajfui. ^ ,. ™™p»"g} o J jj frolicsoiueness J Poor Andrew that tumbles for sport, Let naebody name wi' a jeer ; There's even, I'm tauld^ i' the Court toM A tumbler ca'd the Premier. Observ'd ye yon reverend lad Mak faces to tickle the mob ; He rails at our mountebank scjuad, — It's rivalship just i' the job. And now my conclusion I'll tell, For faith Tm confoundedly dry ; The chiel that's a fool for himsel, Guid L— d ! he's far dafter than I.] Recitativo. Then niest outspak a raiicle carlin stout beldam Wha kent fu' weel to cleek the sterlin ; "^i"^!; } For mony a pursie she had hooked. An' had in monv a well been douked : ducked Her love had been a Highland laddie. But weary fa' the waefu' woodie ; gibbet-haiter Wi' sighs an' sobs she thus began To wail her braw John Highlandman. brave AIR. Lively. A High -land lad my love was bom. The Lal-lan' laws he held in scorn, But he still was faith - fu' to his clan, My gal - lant braw John High-land man I J^. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 167 m ?ttE55 ■* — gl— --e=zr- ;=w-'g- Cho.— Sing, hey my braw John High-land-man ! Sing, ho my braw John Hing-land-manI ^ '^^:J 3=|i There's not a lad in a' the Ian', Was match for my John High-land-man. Tune. — "O an ye were dead, Guidman." A Highland lad my love was born, The lallaud laws he held in scorn ; lowiand But he still was faithfn' 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 Ian' Was match for my John Highlandman. With his philibcg an' tartan plaid, An' guid 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 an' ladies gay ; For a lallajid face he feared none, — My gallant, braw John Highlandman. Sing hey, &c. They banish' d him beyond the sea, But ere the bud was on the tree, Adown my cheeks the pearls ran, Bmbracing my John Highlandman. Sing hey, &c. kilt broadsword lowland ♦ Tweed separates Scotland from England ; Spey is a river in Inverness-shir?. The phrase means from South to North of Scotland. — ^J. H. 168 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785, But, och ! they catch' d him at the last, And bound him in a dungeon fast : My curse upon them every one, They've hanged 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, ^^,,^^ ^^^^^^ } I Wha us'd at trystcs an' fairs to driddle^ piay Her strappin limb and gausy middle buxom (He reach' d nae higher) Had holed his heartie like a riddle. An' blawjiUon fire, blown u Wi' hand on hainch^ and upward e'e, haunch He croojt'd his gamut, one, two three, hummed Then in an arioso key, The wee Apollo Set off wi' allegretto glee His giga solo. AIR. Slow. ^E3^ ^^l^=^ ^=^=i= J^*-I3 gE ^^""^gZJ^3!g-j^ -S!*-i* Let me ryks up to dight that tear, And go wi' me and be my dear. i ^E3: ^^ =^^^^=^^^^^E^^ ^- And then your ev - ry care and fear. May whis - tie owre flut lavw «>'». f » ;«T. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 169 Cho. — I am a fid - dler to my trade, And a' the tunes that e'er I played. The sweet -est still to wife or maid, Was whis-tle owre the lave o't Tune — "Whistle owre the lave o't." Let me ryke up to dight that tear reach wipe An' go wi' me an' be my dear ; An' then your every care an' fear May whistle owre the lave *► sore Slow AIR. bSg^^^^ '^~^- I am a bard of no re - gard Wi' gen - tie folks and a' that ; 5^;:?^ -s*^^^- But Homer - like, the glow-rin' byke, Frae town to town I draw that. rp=ffr li^ ^E^^ «=f= -^— Chc— For that, and that. And twice as muc-kle's that, ^3iii f =ff.- E^ '^"^^ -e= ^^d B=3t I've lost but ane, I've twa be-hin', I've wife e - nough for that * Homer is allowed to be the oldest ballad-singer on record. — R. B. \fi. popular Scotch air and song. » ■ ^T. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 173 Tune.— "'For a' that, au' a' that." I am a Bard of no regard, Wi' gentle folks an' a' that ; But Homer-like, the £-/owri/i dy/:c^staring throng I^rae town to town I draw that. from Ckoriis. For a' that an' a' that. An' twice as miickle' s a' that ; much I've lost but ane, I've twa behin', I've wife eneugh for a' that. I never drank the Muses' stank^ pool or fountain Castalia's burn, an' a' that : But there it streams an' 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. thwart For a' that, &c. In raptures sweet, this hour we meet, Wi' mutual love and' a' that ; But for how lang the fiie may sta7iz '^"^^ \ . ^ -^ -^ * may last i lyet inclination law that. For a' that, &c. Their tricks an' craft hae put me daft^ crazy They've taen me in, an' a' that ; taken But clear your decks, an' here's the Sex ! I like the jads for a' that. jades * We must here imagine the singer to pour out his beer with jovial abandon. -J. H. 174 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. For a' that an' a' that, An' twice as muckle's a' that ; My dearest bluid, to do them g^id, They're welcome till't for a' that. Recitativo. So sung the bard — and Nansies wd* s Shook with a thunder of applause, Re-echo' d from each mouth ! They toom'd their pocks,* they pawn'd their walls diids They scarcely left to coor their ficds^r To quench their lowin drouth : Then ozvre again^ the jovial tlirang The poet did request To lowse 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. rags of clothing cover hips flaming once more loose choose AIR. LrvELV. ^=^ =^M^^^^ :=h=i= IWEE^ \^ =it=^— * See the smok-ing bowl be - fore us, mark our jov - ial rag - ged ring! ^i=|S==P^=^: liJZI Round and round take up the cho - rus, And in rap-tures let us sing. i f p?- Cho.— A fig for those, a fig for those by law pro-tect-ed ! Liber-ty's a glor-ious feast, li - ber - ty's a glor-i-ous feast ! Courts for cowards were e-rect-ed. Churches P rg — vz :t the manuscript and handed it to Woodburn. That rejected part had been given to Richmond, who, in 1801, presented it to his nephew, Mr. Stewart, to complete the cantata which that gentle- man had obtained from Mr. Smith, of Greenock. (Naturally, in Mr. Stewart's family, there would be more talk of the present made to him by his uncle than of that by Mr. Smith, and Mr. Stewart's daughter might easily have believed the whole MS. came from her grand-uncle.^. H.) That this is the correct way of reconciling any apparent discrepancies in stating the pedigree of this unique manuscript, is manifest on examining the original : the long dismembered portion is written on one sheet, in a larger character, in a different tint of ink, and apparently on a different quality of paper. It is a remarkable fact that Cromek (who, in iSio, published a copy of the Jolly Beggars from the original MS., lent by Mr. Stewart for the purpose), having heard from Mr. Richmond that a Sailor had originally formed one of the persons in the poet's drama, actually took upon him to introduce a Sailor, at that part of the last rccitativo but one, where the Fiddler relieves the Bard ^l one of his Deborahs, thus, — " But hurchin Cupid shot a shaft, That play'd a dame a shavie ; A Sailor raked her fore and aft," &c. "romek used other liberties with the text which we need not *'-.rther refer to ; but the public is now put in possession of the whole history of this wonderful poem.] SONG— FOR A' THAT. (Johnson's Museum, 1790.) Tho' women's minds, like winter winds, May shift, and turn, an' a' that, The noblest breast adores them maist — most A consequence I draw that. I. L 178 POEMS AND SONGS. Chor. — For a' that an' a' that, [1785. And twice as meikle^s a' that ; much The bonie lass that I loe best love She'll be my ain for a' that own 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 thraiv that. For a' that, &c. Uiwart But there is ane abooji the lave^ Has wit, and sense, an' a' that ; A bonie lass, I like her best. And wlia a crime dare ca' that? For a' that, &c. above rest cfi:i In rapture sweet this hour we meet, Wi' mutual love an' a' that, But for how lang the fiie may slangy f&a<^ r^av last Let inclination law that. For a' that, &c. Their tricks an' craft hae put me daft, have They've taeft me in an' a' that; deceived me But clear your decks, and — here's 'The sex!' I like the jads for a' that hussies For a' that, &:c. [This composition is an altered version of the Bard's first song in the "Jolly Beggars." The first and third stanzas here given are wanting in the other version, and the two opening stanzas of the song in the Jolly Beggars are here omitted. Verse third of the text first appeared in Pickering's ed., 1839. We shall next proceed to give what seems to have been the poet's first intention as a song for the "sturdy caird" in the same cantata, and with- drawn in favor of that already given. J JEr. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 179 SONG— KISSIN MY KATIE. (Johnson's Museum, 1790.) Tune — "The bob o' Dumblane." O MERRY /lae I been teetliin a heckle, \i^v&^ . 1 T 1 1 • flax-dressers' comb J An' merry hae 1 been shapm a spoon ; O merry liae I been chmtin a kettle, mending An' kissin my Katie when a' was done. * O a' the lang day I ca' at my hammer, aii day long drive An' a' the lang day I whistle and sing ; O a' the lang night I cuddle my kimmer, fondle gin An' a' the lang night as happy's a king. Bitter in dool I lickit my whinins earnings! O' marrying Bess, to gie her a slave : t ■^ ^^ ' ^ ' grew cold) Blest be the hour she cooPd in her limiens^ shroud/ And blythe be the bird that sings on her grave ! merry Come to my arms, my Katie, my Katie ; O come to my arms and kiss me again ! Drucken or sober, here's to thee Katie : dmnk An' blest be the day I did it again. [The operations described in the first stanza are all those of the tinker. It is supposed that this song was intended to be made use of in the "Jolly Beggars," and was afterwards thrown aside for the more suitable one put into the caird's lips — "My bonie lass, I work in brass."] * We have here a terse vidimus of the different occupations of a travelling caird. He replaces teeth in a flax- dresser's comb ; he makes spoons from rams' and cows' horns; he tinkers dilapidated kettles and other metal vessels; and in the evening gives himself up to sensual pleasure. — J. H. t In bitter sorrow I expiated my folly in marrying Bess, and thus becoming her slave. — J. H. 180 POEMS AND SONGS. [17^5. THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT. INSCRIBED TO R. AIKEN, ESQ. [Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.] "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." Grat. My lov'd my honor' d, much respected friend ! No mercenary bard his homage pays ; With honest pride, I scorn each selfi.sh ^nd, 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 worth unknown, far happier there 1 ween ! November chill blaws loud wi' angr}' sugh ; sighing sound The short' ning winter-day is near a close ; The miry beasts retreating frae the pleiigh; plough The black' ning trains o' crazvs to their repose : crows The toil-worn Cotter frae his labor goes, — from This night his weekly 77toil is at an end, drudgery Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes. Hoping the mom in ease and rest to spend, And weary, o'er the moor, his course does hameward bend. At length his lonely cot appears in view, Beneath the shelter of an aged tree : Th^ expectant wee-things^ toddliii^ stacker children tottering 1 through ^^^^^^' ^ To meet their ' dad, ' wi' fiichterin' noise fluttering and glee. ^T. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 181 fire glancing? His wee bit ingle^ blinkin bonilie^ cheerfully / His clean hearth-stane, his thrifty wifie's smile. The lisping infant, prattling on his knee, Does a' his weary kiaugh and care^ beguile, carking anxiety And makes him quite forget his labor and his toil. Belyve^ the elder bairns come drapping in, by and by At service out, amang the farmers roun; around Some cd' the pleugh, some herd, some tentie rin drfve) ^ '^ ' ' attentively i A canme errand to a neibor town : easy Their eldest hope, their Jenny ^ woman-grown, janet In youthfu' bloom — love sparkling in her e' e eye Comes hame ; perhaps, to shew a braw new fine gown. Or deposite her sair-^ors. penny-fee^ hard wages To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be. With joy unfeign'd, brothers and sisters meet, And each for other's welfare kindly spiers: enquires The social hours, swift- winged, unnotic'd fleet ; Each tells the iincos that he sees or hears, strange things The parents, partial, eye their hopeful years ; Anticipation forward points the view ; The mother, wi' her needle and her sheers^ scissors Gars auld claes look The sowpe* their only hawkie does afiford, cow That, ''yoiit the hallan snugly chows her beyond partition cood : cud The dame brings forth, in complimental mood, To grace the lad, her zveel-haiii' d kebbiick carefully saved, ^ rjj _ pungent cheese/ And aft he's prest, and aft he ca^ s it guid : caiis The frugal wifie, garrulous, will tell How ' twas a toxvmond auld, sin' lint was i' the bell, f The cheerfu' supper done, wi^ serious face, with They, round the ingle^ form a circle wide ; fireside The sire turns o'er with patriarchal grace. The big hd'-bible^X ance his father's pride : ha.ii-bibie once His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside, His lyart haffets wearin thin and bare ; gray temples Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide. He wales a portion with judicious care ; selects And " lyct us worship God ! " he says with solemn air. • Any liquid supped with a spoon ; here it means milk. The Scotch phrase, "Bite and Sowpe" is equivalent to the English "Bit and Sup." — J. H. fHow it was a twelvemonth old since flax was in bloom. — J. H. \ In every Scotch family there is a large quarto or folio Bible, which comes down as a family-loom from sire to son, and is used besides as a register of births and deaths. The first purchase a young couple makes (if they have not inherited one) is a family Bible.— J. H. 184 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. 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, fan* The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays : Compar'd with these, Italian trills are tame ; The tickl'd ears no heartfelt raptures raise ; Nae unison hae they, with our Creator's praise, no have The priest-like father reads the sacred p'&ge. 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. 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 serv^ants 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' Ion's doom pronounc'd by Heaven's command. Then kneeling down to Heaven's Eternal King, The saint, the father, and the husband prays : Hope "springs exulting on triumphant wing,"t • Names of favorite Scottish psalm tunes. — J. H. t Pope's "Witidsor Forest."—/?. B. '*.iiB nmaJoa riJi Isiov/ s are lyre. man was shed ; . ame. ays THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT—" And ' Let us worship God ! ' he says with solemn air." .u,..HH:-^^^liir^^^Mii.i.ir. » gtt. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 185 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. 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 every grace, except the heart ! The Power, 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 I^ife the inmates poor enroll. * Then homeward all take off their sev'ral way ; The youngling cottagers retire to rest : The 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. 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 ;"t And certes, in fair virtue's heavenly road, * "Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade ; A breath can make them, as a breath has made." Goldsmith's Deserted Village, tPope. Essay on Man. 186 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. The cottage leaves the palace far behind ; What is a lordliug's poiiip? a cumbrous load, Disguising oft the wretch of human kind, Studied in arts of hell, in wickedness refined ! 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. O Thou ! who pour'd the patriotic tide. That stream' d thro' 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 ! [That this poem was composed near the close of 1785, is proved by the author's words in his letter to John Richmond, 17th Feb- ruary, 1786. In that letter, the titles are given of five very important poems, including " The Cotter's Saturday Night," which, "among several others," he had composed since Richmond left Mauchline. Lockhart has well said — "'The Cotter's Saturday Night' is per- haps, of all Burns' pieces, the one whose exclusion from the col- lection, were such things possible now-a-days, would be most injurious, if not to the genius, at least to the character of the man." The MS. copy of this poem, used by the printer of the Kil- marnock edition of his poems, is now at Ir\'ine, carefully preserved by the Bums Club there, along with several other manuscripts. A fac-simile of it was published by Mr. Maxwell Dick, of that town, in 1S40. An earlier copy is that which was presented to ! p » ylJT. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 187 Allan Cunningliam in 1S34 by his publisher, Mr. James Cochrane, and is now in the British Museum, L,ondon. The variations marked Q) and ('^) were- made by the author for his edition of 1 793 : the latter originally read ' ' great, unhappy Wallace' heart," the change having been adopted to please Mrs. Dunlop. The expression " kiaugh and care" (') was at the same time changed to " car king cares," to suit those who objected to the v/ord ' ' kiaugh ' ' as being too antiquated. In our text, we adhere to the original words.] The following is condensed from Allan Cunningham's very inter- esting note on this poem : — When Burns was first invited to dine at Dunlop-house, a westlan dame, who acted as housekeeper, appeared to doubt the propriety of her mistress entertaining a mere ploughman who made rhymes, as if he were a gentleman of old descent. By way of convincing Mrs. M'Guistan, for that was her name, of the bard's right to such distinction, Mrs. Dunlop gave her "The Cotter's Saturday Night" to read. This was soon done : she returned the volume with a strong shaking of the head, saying, "Nae doubt gentlemen and ladies think mickle o' this, but for me it's naething but what I saw i' my father's house every day, and I dinua see how he could hae tauld it ony other way." Of the origin of this poem, Gilbert Burns gives a clear account : — ' ' Robert had frequently remarked to me that he thought there was something peculiarly venerable in the phrase, ' I^et 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.' Robert and I used frequently to walk together, when the weather was favorable, on the Sunday afternoons, and enjoyed such Sundays as would make one regret to see their number abridged. It was in one of these walks that I first heard him repeat 'The Cotter's Saturday Night.' I do not recollect to have read or heard anything by which I was more highly electrified. The fifth and sixth stanzas, and the eighteenth, thrilled with peculiar ecstasy through my soul." The household of the virtuous William Burness was the scene of the poem, and William himself was the saint, and father, and husband of this truly sacred drama. — J. H. 188 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. ADDRESS TO THE DEIL. (K11.MARNOCK Ed., 1786.) " O Prince ! O chief of many throned pow'rs ! That led th' embattl'd seraphim to war — " MlLTOW. O Thou ! whatever title suit thee — Auld "Hornie," "Satan," "Nick," or "Clootie,"* JV/ia in yo?i cavern grim an' sootie, who yonder Clos'd under hatches, Spairges about the brunstane cootie, f^ scatters To scaiid poor wretches ! scaid Hear me, auld ^'' Haiigic^'''' for a wee, hangman An' let poor damned bodies be ; I'm sure S77id' pleasure it can gie^ smaii give Ev'n to a deil, To skelp an' scaud poor dogs like me, spank An' hear us squeel ! Great is thy pow'r an' great thy fame ; Far kenji'd an' noted is thy name ; known An' tho' yon lowin heugli' s thy hame, blazing pit's Thou travels far ; An' faith ! thou's neither lag nor lame, laggard Nor Mate nor scaur. bashful . apt to be scared J Whyles^ raging like a roaring lion, at times For prey, ^' holes an' comers tryin ; aii Whyles, on the strong-wing' d tempest flyin, Tirlin the kirks ; unroofing Whyles, in the human bosom pryin. Unseen thou lurks. * Some of the names given to the D — 1 in Scotland — Homie from his horns ; clootie from his cloven feet or cloots. — J. H. t The poet imagines a foot-pail, called in Scotland a cootie, filled with liquid brimstone, which Satan distributes over his victims.— J. H. J^r. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 189 I've heard my rev' rend grannie say, In lanely glens ye like to stray ; loneiy Or where auld niin'd castles grey Nod to the moon, Ye fright the nightly wand'rer's way, Wi' eldritch croon.* When twilight did my grannie summon, grand-dame To say her pray'rs douce ^ honest woman ! decent Aft ''yont the dyke she's heard you bnmniiny^y^^^ fences lUr-) • A buzziugl Wi eerie drone ; awe-producing Or, rustlin, thro' the boortrecs comin, eider-trees Wi' heavy groan. Ae dreary, windy, winter night, The stars shot down wi' sklcnti?i light, slanting Wi' you mysel, I gat a fright, Ayont the loch ; beyond Ye, like a rash-buss^ stood in sight, msh-bush Wi' Wavin SOUSih d^earj- sighing ^ " sound / The cudgel in my riieve did shake, fist Each bristl'd hair stood like a stake. When wi' an eldritch, f stoor "quaick, quaick," bass Amang the springs, Awa ye squatter'' d like a drake, spluttered On whistlin wings. Let warlocks grim, an' wither'd hags, male witches Tell how wi' you, on ragweed nags, They skim the muirs an' dizzy crags, moors Wi' wicked speed ; And in kirk-yards renew their leagues, Owre howket dead, over resurrected * With mysteriously aweful hum. The word eldritch implies something super- natural and frightful.— J. H tSee note on Stanza 5. 190 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. Thence, coiintra wives, wi' toil an' pain. May plunge an' plunge the kirn in vain ; churn For oh ! the yellow treasures tacn taken away By witchin skill ; An' daivtet^ twal-pint Hawkie' 5 gaJie petted cow gone As yelVs the bill.'' dry buU Thence, mystic knots mak great abuse On yoViT\% guidmcn, fond, keen an' croose ; ^^^^^^^^^^^ When the best wark-lume i' the house, By cantraip wit^ magic slight Is instant made 710 worth a louse, ^ not Just at the bit. When thowes dissolve the snawy hoord^ thaws wreaths An' float the jinglin icy boord, f Then, water-keipies haunt the foord^ water-spiriu ford By your direction, And 'nigh ted trav'llers are allur'd To their destruction. And aft your moss-traversin " Sptinkies'''' ofii Decoy the wight that late an' drunk is :^Uo'">e wisps/ The bleezin^ curst, mischievous monkies blazing Delude his eyes. Till in some miry slough he sunk is. Ne'er 77tair to rise. never more When mason's mystic w^ord an' grip In storms an' tempests raise you up, ♦She gave twelve Scotch pints or twenty-four English quarts a day. The cow is the most esteemed possession of the thrifty, well-doing Scotch peasant. It supplies the " sowpe of kitchen" for his and his family's porridge, and keeps them in butter and cheese. It and its products are therefore the favorite objects of attack by malicious witches, and the good wife is always on the watch against such.--J. H. + The icy board is called jingling in allusion to the sound it gives out when curling-stones pass over it. — J. H. 9 arr. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 191 Some cock or cat your rage maim stop, must Or, strange to tell ! The youngest ' ' britlier ' ' ye wad whip pick up and cany Aflf straught to hell. straight Lang syne in Eden's bonie yard, long ago 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 swatrd^ sward In shady bow'r ; Then you, ye auld, sneck-drawin^ dog ! Ye cam to Paradise incog. An' play'd on man a cursed brogue^ trick (Black be your /2'/) doom An' gied the infant warld a shog^ gave shock ''Maist ruin'd a.' almost D'ye mind that day when in a bi'sz bustle Wi' reeket duds, an' reestet gizz, f Ye did present your s7nootie phiz sooty ^ Mang better folk, among An' sklented on the man of Uzz squinted Your spitefu' joke? J An' how he gat him 2' your thrall, in An' brak him out. o' house an' haV ^ broke hold While scabs an' botches did him gall, blotches Wi' bitter claZV ; scratching An' lows^d his ill-tongu'd wicked scaiil— loosed) 1^ scolding wife ■• Was warst ava ? of aii ♦Sneck-drawin' : drawing the sneck or latch stealthily and with thievish pur. pose ; hence, insidious deceitful, treacherous. See note on " Nick-scraping," p. 285.-J. H. t With smoke stained rags and fire-shrivelled (literally roasted) face.— J. H. J Job 1 : 6-12. 192 POEMS AND SONGS. [17S5. But a' your doings to rehearse, Your wily snares an' fechtin fierce, fighting Sin' that day Michael * did you pierce, since Down to this time, Wad ding a Lallan tongue, or Erse^ surpass lowiand gaeiic In prose or rhyme. An' now, auld " Cloots," I ken ye' re thinkin, know frolicking in a hurry A certain bardie's rantin^ drinkin, Sonic luckless hour will send him linkin^ To your black pit ; But, faith! he'll turn a corner jin kin. ^ An' cheat you yet. dodging But fare-you-weel, auld "Nickie-ben !" O wad ye tak a thought and mend ! Ye aiblins might — I dinna ken — perhaps Still hae a stake l^m wae to think upo' yon den, Ev'n for your sake ! don't know have I am sorry [The only variation we have to record in connection with thi? poem is in the seventh verse from the close, and it is a very significant one. In the letter to John Richmond, of 17th Feb- ruary, 1786, already alluded to in the note to "The Cotter's Saturday Night," the poet hints at something disagreeable having happened with respect to himself. The reference there was to an occurrence which, shortly afterwards, led to a rupture between Jean Armour and him. As the present poem then stood, the verse indicated read as follows : — " Lanfc syne, in Eden's happy scene When strappin Adam's days were green, And Eve was like my bonie Jean — My dearest part, A dancin, sweet, young, handsome qtiean, O guileless heart." long ago girf For that stanza, the one in the text was substituted when he came to prepare the poem for the press. A similar obliteratioc *yide Milton, Book vi.— ^. B. p • - ^T. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 193 of the name of Jean was made in the poem entitled "The Vision." He would have deleted "the adored name" from the "Epistle to Davie" also, we may be very certain, had it been possible to do so without seriously injuring it. This "Address to the Deil" is one of the author's most popular pieces, and has been the theme of unmingled praise by critics. The poet's relenting tenderness, even towards the author and per- petual embodiment of evil, is a fine stroke at the close. "Humoi and tenderness," says Dr. Currie, "are here so happily intermixed, that it is impossible to say which predominates."] SCOTCH DRINK. (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) Gi'e him strong drink until he wink, give That's sinking in despair; An' liquor guid to fire his bluid, good blood That's prest wi' grief an' '^are : There let him bowse, an' deep carouse, drink freely Wi' bumpers flowing o'er, Till he forgets his loves or debts. An' minds his griefs no more. Solomon's Proverbs, xxxl. 6, 7. lyET other poets raise a fracas ' Bout vines, an' wines, an' drucken Bacchus, drunken An' crabbet names an' stories rack us, An' grate our hig : ear I sing the juice Scotch here can mak us, barley In glass or jug.* O thou, my muse ! guid auld Scotch drink ! Whether thro' iviniplin wonns thou y//^/&, winding steal Or, richly brown, reafn owre the brink, cream over In glorious faem,, foam Inspire me, till I lisp an' wink, To sing thy name ! * In the form of whisky or beer. 194 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. Let husky wheat the haughs adorn, holmes Au' aits set up their awnie horn, oau bearded An' pease an' beans, at e'en or mom, Perfume the plain : Leeze me on thee, John Barleycorn, commend me to Thou king o' g^ain ! On thee aft Scotland chows her cood^ chews her cud In souple scones, * the wale o' food ! supple choice Or tumblin in the boilin<>^ flood ! Wi' kail an' beef; t But when thou pours thy strong Heart's blood. There thou shines chief. Food fills the wame^ an' keeps us leevin; beiiy imng Tho' life's a gift no worth receivin, When heavy-dragg' d wi' pine an' grievin ; pain But oil'd by thee. The wheels o' life (^ae down-hill, scrievin. .,. ^° ^ . . gliding Wi' rattlin glee swiitiy } Thou clears the head o' doited Lear ; dazed learning Thou cheers the heart o' drooping Care ; Thou strings the nerves o' Labor sair^ sore At's weary toil ; Thou ev'n brightens dark Despair Wi' gloomy smile. Aft, clad in massy siller weed, J Wi' gentles thou erects thy head ; people of condiUou Yet, humbly kind in time o' need, The poor man's wine ; * Scones are soft cakes of barley-meal, or wheat flour, or oat-meal mixed witb potatoes, baked on the griddle. — J. H. t Broth made from barley boiled with kale and beef, is the national soup of Scotland.— J. H. I Often, in the form of ale, appearing in silver mugs. — ^J. H. * ' .JJT. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 195 His wee drap parritch^ or his bread, oat meai po>ridge Thou kitchens fine.* relish Thou art the life o' public haunts ; But thee, what were our fairs and rants ? without frolics Ev'n godly meetings o' the saunts^ saints By thee inspir'd. When, gaping, they besiege the tents, Are doubly fir'd.f That merry night we get the corn in,t O sweetly, then, thou reams the horn in ! horn 'Tup) Or rcekin on a New-year mornin smoking _ 7 • r wooden mug) In cog or bicker^ bo^ij" An' just a wee drap spiritual burn in, uttie drop whisky An' gusty sucker !\ toothful sugar When Vulcan gies his bellows breath An' ploughman gather wi' their graith^ implements O rare ! to see thee fizz an' freath froth I' th' lugget Caupi eared cup Then Burnewin comes on like death blacksmith At ev'ry chaup. stroke Nae mercy, then, for aim or steel ; iron The brav/nie, bainie^ ploughman chiel^ large-boned lad Brings hard owrehip, wi' sturdy wheel, The strong forehammer, Till block an' studdie ring an' reel, anvii Wi' dinsojne clamor. noisy When skirlin weanies see the light, squalling infants Thou maks the gossips clatter bright, * Brisk small ale or beer is used in Scotland with porridge as well as with bread, in place of milk, when the cow is "yell." — J. H. tSee "The Holy Fair." \ The Kim or Harvest-Home.— J. H. \ Ale-posset with whisky added and sweetened with sugar. — ^J. H. 196 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785- How fumblin ciiifs their dearies slight ; imbecile doits IVae worth the name ! woe be to Nae howdie gets a social night, midwife Or piack frae them, penny from When neibors anger at a pica^ suit An' just as wud as wud can be, mad How easy can the barlcy-brie bariey-juice (^whisky) Cement the quarrel ! It's aye the cheapest lawyer's fee. To taste the, barrel. ■X Alakc! that e'er my muse has reason, aiasi To wyte her countn'men wi' treason ! biame But mony daily zvcct their 7vcason wet throat Wi' liquors nice, An' hardly, in a winter season, E^ cr spier her price, ever ask Wae worth that brandy, burning trash Fell source o' mony a pain and brash! sudden attack Twins mony a poor, doylt, drucken hash,* O' half his days ; An' sends, beside, auld Scotland's cash To her warst faes. worst foes Ye Scots, wha wish auld Scotland well ! who oid Ye chief, to you my tale I tell. Poor, plackless devils like mysel ! penniless It sets you ill^ in becomes you Wi' bitter, dearthfu' wines to viell^ expensive meddie Or foreign gill. May gravels round his blather wrench, bladder An' gouts torment him inch by inch, • Robs many a poor dazed, drunken fool. :* ^T. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 197 Wha twists his gruntle wi' a glunch mouth frown O' sour disdain, Out owre a glass o' whisky-punch over WV honest men ! with O whisky ! soul o' plays and pranks ! Accept a bardie^ s gratefu' thanks ! poet's When wanting thee, what tuneless cranks &^^"ng) sounds y Are my poor verses ! Thou comes — they rattle i' their ranks At ither' s a — s ! other'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 to' €71 awa / from cough taken away Thae curst horse -leeches o' th' Excise, these Wha mak the whisky stells their prize ! stnis Hand up thy han'. Deillf ance, twice, thrice ! worthless ^ There, seize the blinkers ! '^^ ^ An' bake them up in brunstane pies brimstone For poor d — n'd drinkers. Fortune ! if thou' 11 but gie me still ^^oie breeches. Hale breeks^ a scone ^X an' whisky gill, bannock; * Whisky from a privileged distillery in the barony of Ferintosh, in Cromarty- shire, belonging to Forbes of Culloden. The privilege was granted by an act of the Scottish Parliament (i6go), for services rendered by Forbes, and expenses incurred, at the Revolution (i6SS), and was abolished by Parliament in 1785.— J. H. + Hold up your hand, as if offering a bid for them and wanting them —J. H. J See stanza fourth. 198 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. An' rowth o' rhyme to rave at will, abundance Tak a' the rest, takeaii An' deal't about as thy blind skill Directs thee best. [Gilbert Bums, in his narrative of his brother's early life, thus remarks on the subject of this poem: — "Notwithstanding the praise he has bestowed on ' Scotch Drink ' — which seems to have misled his historians — I do not recollect, during these seven years [the Tarbolton period], nor till towards the end of his com- mencing author — when his growing celebrity occasioned his being often in company — to have ever seen him intoxicated, nor was he at all given to drinking." — Currie's Ed., 1801 vol. i., p. 73. Robert Fergusson had composed verses, in the same measure, on the subject of "Caller Water," and Burns, in search of a theme to aid in filling his contemplated volume, took up "Scotch Drink." He has not treated the topic as a temperance lecturer might have done ; but the generous reader will be apt to say with Chambers that "the humane passage in verse seventh redeems much that may otherwise be objectionable in the poem." The following variation occurs in verse twelve, in the first edition : — Wae worth them for't ! While healths gae round to him wha, light, " fit " Gies famous sport.] (Mr. Waddell institutes a comparison between this poem of Burns and Horace's odd Ad Amphora^n, and indicates that the supe- riority in humor and genial humanity lies with the Scottish bard. There is, he says, " an admixture on Burns' side of deep and gentle charity, that makes his humor like a pungent balm to the ronsciences of mankind." — J. H.) « ' «T. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 199 THE AULD FARMER'S NEW- YEAR MORNING SAI.UTATION TO HIS AUIvD MARE, MAGGIE, Ou giving her the accustomed ripp of corn to hansel in the New Year. (Kii^MARNOCK Ed., 1786.) A GUID New-year I wish thee Maggie ! Hae, there's a ripp to thy auld da£-£-te : handful stomach Tho' thou' s/iowe-dach'i now, an' /^/^^^^zV^^^o^-^^^^^^} I've seen the day Thou could hae gaen like ony staggie^ smaiistag Out-owre the lay. over lea Tho, now thou's dowie, stiff an' crazy, spiritless wom out An' thy auld hide as white's a daisie, I've seen thee dappPt, sleek an' ^/^itz'^zl?, dappled glossy A bonie gray : g. He should been ticht that daurH to raize thee, dared I , rousej Ance 111 a day. once on a time Thou ance was 2' the foremost rank, in A filly bidrdly, sleeve an' JZ£/««/^ / stately firm agile An' set weel down a shapely shank, As e'er tread yird ; earth An' could hae flown out-owre a slanky ditch or pool Eike oity bird. any It's now some nine-an' -twenty year, .7^5 father-in-law's^ Sm' thou was vay guid-father s meere ; mare ; He gied me thee, d' locher clear, gave of dowry An' fifty mark ; * Tho' it was sma', 'twas weel-won gear^ money An' thou was slark. strong •A Scotch coin worth 135. ^d. Scotch, or is. ij^rf. English or 26J^ cents.— J. H. 200 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. When first I gaed to woo my Jenny ^ went janet Ye then was trottin wi' your viinnie : dam Tho' ye was trickle', slee^ an' funnie, siy Ye ne'er was do7isie; mischievous But hamely, tawie^ quiet, an' catinie^ tractable gentle An' unco SOnsie. in high condition That day, ye pranc'd wi' muckle pride, much When ye bure hame my bonie bride : bore An' sweet an' gracefu' she did ride, Wi' maiden air! Kyle-Stewart* I could bragget wide,> For sic a pair. such Tho' now ye dow but hoyte and hobble can iimp An' wintle like a saumont-coble^ rock saimon-boat That day, ye was 2. jinker noble, runner For heels an' win' \ speed and. wind / An' ran them till they a' did zuaiible^ reel Far, far behin' I When thou an' I were young an' skiegh^ high-mettied C3.rOllS3.ls \ An' s table-meals '\ at fairs were ^/'zV^^, long-continued} How thou wad prance, an' snore, an' skriegh^ ""^'^ \ An' tak the road ! Town's-bodies ran, an' stood abiegh^ out of the way An' cd' t thee mad. caued When thou was com't, an' I was mellow, J We took the road aye like a swallow : •See note, page 203. t The stable-meal is the " gill " drunk after ordering the horse to be brought out of the stable, and just before setting out homeward. But when one good fellow orders his "gill" or " half-mutchkin," and another his, the "meal" is apt to become "dreigh." — J. H. t When you had got your starting feed of oats, and I was mellow with the " stable-meal " and its accompaniments.— J. H. » ■ «T. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 201 At brooses* thou had ne'er a fellow, ^ross*count^} For pith an' speed ; But ev'ry tail thou paf t them hollow, beat Where'er thou gaed. went The sma', droop-rumpl't, hunter cattle . . . ^ ^ perhaps beat* Might aibli7is waurH thee for a brattle; dash/ But sax Scotch mile, thou try't their mettle. An' ^«r'/ them whaizle :vi&Ae: wheeze Nae whip nor spur, but just a wattle suppie wand O' sangh or hazle. wiuow Thou was a noble *fittie-lan',t As e'er in tuz or tow was drawn ! ^^^^ "p® . eight 1 Aft thee an' I, in aught hours' gaim^ gomgitn plough) \ In guid March-weather, Hae turn' d sax rood beside our han^^ ploughed six roods For days thegither. together Thou never braingU^ an' fetchH^ an' plunged jibbed fiisket ; fretted But thy auld' tail thou wad hae whisket^ have whisked An' spread «^r^^^ thy weel-fill'd brisket^ s.hvo&6. breast Wi' pith an' power ; Till sprittie knowes wad rair't an' risket, An' slypet owre. % When frosts lay lang an' snaws were deep, An' threaten' d labor back to keep, I gied thy cog a wee bit heap feed-dish Aboon the iiinmer: wooden edge * On bringing home a bride from where the marriage was celebrated it was customary to have a race, when he who reached the house first won the prize— a kiss of the bride. — J. H. t The near horse of the hindmost pair in ploughing. X Till knolls tough with roots would roar and crackle as they were torn up, and the clods fall smoothly over. — J. H. 202 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. I ken^d my Maggie wad na sleep, knew For that, or simmer.* before summer In cart or car fhou never reestet ; balked The steyest brae thou wad hae fac' t it ; steepest hiu Thou never /«/, an' steiined^ an' leapt strained breastet^ plunged Then stood to blaw ; But just thy step a wee thing hastet. Thou SnOOvH aw a. smoothly on/ My **pleugh" is now thy bairn-time a*,t Four gallant brutes as e'er did draw ; Forbye sax mae I've sellt awa^ six more sold off That thou hast nurst : They drew me thretteen piind an^ twa^ fifteen pounds The very warsL worst Mony a sair daiirg we twa hae wrought, bard day's work An' wi} the weary zvart fought ! with world An' mony an anxious day, I thought, We wad be beat ! would Yet here to crazy age we're brought, Wi' something yet An^ think ita\ my auld trusty servan', don't twnk That now perhaps thou's less deservin thou art An' thy auld days may end in starvin ; For my \2S\. fow^ bushel A heapet stimpart^X I'll reserve ane j^ of a bushel Laid by for you. * She would repay his kindness by faithful work in Spring.— J. H. + All the four horses now working in my plough are your progeny. — ^J. H. X The old man would reserve a stimpart or good feed from his very last bushe* for his faithful old horse. — J. H. V,-f --ic;' T^- Uapt •mootb' X ..♦ •t W'... don't tbJ less •- 1 t in stai-vin ; THE TWA DOGS. • ■ » ■ ^T. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 203 We've worn to crazy years thegither ; We'll ^oy^e about wi' ane anither; totter, one another Wi' teiitie care I'll fiit thy tether watchfni move To some hain' d rig, ''^''^^l^} Whare ye may nobly rax your leather , stretch your skin Wi' sma' fatigue. [Our poet seems to have "hansel'd" the eventful year 1786 with this poem, which is executed in his very best manner. Professo*' Wilson, in his famed Essay on Burns, declares that, to his knowledge, the recital of it has brought tears of pleasure to the eyes, and "hu- "lanised the heart of a Gilmerton carter."} THE TWA DOGS : A TAXS. (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) 'TwAS in that place o' Scotland's Isle, That bears the name o' auld "King Coil,"* Upon a bonie day in June, When wearin thro' the afternoon, somewhat late in Twa dogs, that were na thraiig at hame, busy Forgather'* d aiice upon a time. encountered once The first I'll name, they ca''d\nm. "Caesar," caiied Was keepet for "his Honor's" pleasure: His hair, his size, his mouth, his lugs, ears Shew'd he was nane o' Scotland's dogs ; But whalpet some place far abroad, wheiped Whare sailors gang to fish for cod.f go * The district of Kyle in Ayrshire, the central di\-ision of the county, and sepa- rated from Carrick on the south by the Doon, and from Cunningham on the nortn by the Irvine. Within this district Burns was bom and lived, except the few months he was at school at Kirkoswald, until he went to reside permanently in Dumfries-shire. The reader will find a poetical outline of this region as de- pictedon the Muse's robe of Coila in the " Vision." Its name is traditionally said to be derived from Coilus, a pre-historic Pictish sovereign entombed, according to popular belief, near the old mansion of Coilsfield. In 1837 careful excavations discovered calcined remains buried here in earthen urns, which represented un- questionably some hero of the primitive race. Coilsfield, the Bloody Burn and the Dead Man's Holm are names still attached to the locality. For the abov^ interesting note we are largely indebted to Waddell. — ^J. H. t Newfoundland. 204 POEMS AND SONGS. [17861 His locked, letter' d, braw brass collar Shew'd him the jjentlemau an' scholar; But though he was o' high degree, The ficnt a pride, nae pride had he ; deuce a particle oi But wad hac spent an hour caressin, would have Ev'n wi' a tinkler-gipsey's mcssan: cur At kirk or market, mill or siniddie^ smithy Nae taivted tykc^ tho' e'er sae duddic^roM^iicMr ragged But he wad stand, as glad to see him. An' stroatt' d on stanes an' hillocks wi' him. urinated The tither was a ploughman's collie — A rhyming, ranting, roving billie^* ^ feiiow Wha for his friend an' comrade had him. And in his freaks had " Luatli " cd^d him, named After some dog in Highland sang,t Was made laiig sync — Lord knows how lang. iongsin WJiyles scour' d awa' in lang excursion, sometimes An' worry 'd Ither in diversion ; each other Till tir'd at last wi' mony a farce. They set them down upon their arse, ♦Bums himself. tCuchullin's dog in Ossian's "Fingal."— /?. B. The reference made to the in- definite antiquity of Highland song seems to indicate Bums' acquaintance with the controversy then going on relative to the genuineness of the Poems of Ossian, and his faith therein. — ^J. H. » m. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 205 An' there began a lang digression About the "lords o' the creation." CJESAR. 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. ataii Our laird gets in his racked rents His coals, his kane, an' 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 ; calls He draws a bonie silken purse, As lang's my tail, whare, thro' the sleeks, stitches The yellow letter' d Geordie f keeks, stamped guinea peeps Frae morn to e'en it's nought but toiling. At baking, roasting, frying, boiling ; An' tho' the gentry first are stechin^ over-feeding I Yet ev'n the hd' folk fill their pechan serv&nts stomach Wi' sauce, ragouts, an' sic like trashtrie^ trash That's little short o' downright was trie. waste Our whipper-in, ivee^ blastet wojtner^ blasted litue sinner Poor, worthless elf, it eats a dinner. Better than ony tenant-man His Honor has in a' the Ian'' : the estate An' what poor cot-folk pit their palnc/i in, put paunch I own it's past my comprehension. - LUATH. Trowth. Caesar, whyles. they're fashH indeed-| ' 5 -^ ) J J sometimes^ eneUgh : perplexed) A cotter howkin in a sheugh^ digging ditch * stents : assessments, especially in labor or produce, imposed on tenants. Be- sides rent, a laird had several claims on his tenants. They had to draw his coals, supply a certain amount of produce (especially fowls) from the farm under the name of " Kane," often to assist in securing his harvest, to furnish a certain amount of turf or peats, etc. — ^J. H. T See p. 68. 206 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. Wi' dirty stanes biggin a dyke^ building fence Baring a quarry, and sic like ; uncovering such Himsel, a wife, he thus sustains, A smytrie o' wee diiddie weans,tTihe ragged children An' nought but his han''-daiirg^ to keep hands labor Them right an' tight in thack an' rape.* ^^^J.^J'^"''} An when they meet wi' sair disasters, Ivike loss o' health or want o' masters. Ye maist wad think, a wee touch langer almost would An' they maun starve o' cauld3.r\A hunger : must coid But how it comes, I never kent yet, knew They're maistly wonderfu' contented An' buirdly chiels^ an' clever hizzies^ stately fellows giris Are bred in sic a way as this is. such Ci^AR. But then to see how ye' re neglecket. How huffd, an' cufif'd, an' disrespecket I L — d man, our gentry care as little For delvers, ditchers, an' sic cattle ; They gang as saucy by poor folk, go past As I wad by a stinking brock. badger I've notic'd on our laird's court-day.^ — rent-day An' mony a time my heart's been wae^ — sad Poor tenant bodies, scant o' cash. How they inaun thole a factor's snash insolence i He'll stamp an' threaten, curse an' swear attach ) He'll apprehend them, poind their gear; property i While they maun stan', wi' aspect humble, An' hear it a' , an' fear an' tremble ! f I see how folk live that hae riches ; But surely poor-folk maun be wretches ! must •"Tight in thack and rape" is a Scottish phrase equivalent to "in propet condition." It dates back to the days when all houses were thatched, and to b« " tight in thack and rape " was the one grand desideratum.— J. H. t Described from his father's experience in Mount Oliphant.— J. H. .^T. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 207 I^UATH. They're no sae wretched' s ane wad onewouw think ; Tho' constantly on poortith) s brink, poverty's They're sae accustom' d wi' the sight, The view o't gies them little fright. gives Then chance and 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, ^\\.€\x grushie weans an'' faithfu' wives; thriving children The prattling things are just their pride, That sweetens a' their fire-side. An' whyles twalpennie * worth o' nappy sometimes aie Can mak the bodies unco happy : good folks wonderfuuy They lay aside their private cares, To mind the Kirk and State affairs ; They'll talk o' patronage an' priests, Wi' kindling fury i' their breasts, f Or tell what new taxation's comin, An' ferlie at the folk in Lon'on. marvel As bleak-fac'd Hallowmas s returns. ''"^^!!'?;^^^l (31st October) •» They get the jovial, rantm kirns^ frolicsome harvest homes When rural life, of ev'ry station. Unite in common recreation; glances from the eye) Love blifiks^ Wit slaps^ an' social Mirth ^^^' Forgets there's Care upo' the earth. • Scotch money was worth just one-twelflh of English money of the same name. Twelvepence Scotch was, therefore, just equal to one penny sterling, or two cents. — J. H. t This is another example of Burns' marvellous power in catching the charac- teristics of the Scottish peasantry and depicting these by brief happy touches. Their fondness for polemical discussion is probably the most prominent feature in their mental character. Their very interest in religion leads them to criticize their ministers freely, often severely, and to denounce what they regard as abuses in the church with bitterness. Patronage, or the right of one land-owner (called the patron) to present a minister to a charge despite the wishes of the people has always been the object of their special abhorrence, and the cause of every disruption in the church. It is now abolished.— J. H. 208 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786 That merry day the year begins, They bar the door on frosty win' s ; winds The nappy reeks wi' mantling^ ^^^^^ strong aie smokes ^ ^-f -^ . . . ^ ' creamy froth/ An' sheds a heart-inspiring steam ; The luntin pipe, an' siieeshin mill^ glowing snuff-muii Are handed round wi' right giiid will ; The cantie auld folks crackin crouse^ conversing gieefu^i^ I The young anes ranting thro' the house — frolicking My heart has been sae fahi to see them, giad That I for joy hae barket wi' them. Still it's owre true that ye hae 5aid, too Sic game is now owre aften play'd jt such There's mony a creditable stock O' decent, honest, fawsont folk, seemly Are riven out baith root an' branch, both Some rascal's pridefu' greed to quench, Wha thinks to knit himsel the faster In favor wi' some gentle master, aristocraUc Wha, aiblins thrang a parliamentin', perhaps busy For Britain's guid his saiil indentin' — soui C^AR. Haith^ lad, ye little ken about it : faith know For Britain's guid ! guid faith ! I doubt it. Say rather, gaun as Premiers lead him : going An' saying aye or no 's they bid him : At operas an' plays parading. Mortgaging, gambling, masquerading, Or maybe, in a frolic daft^ foolish 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 ; * tears up old * The law of entail was one by which the proprietor of an estate was debarred from selling it or any part of it, or even from indebting it beyond his own life- time, so that every new heir received it unburdened and undiminished. This law, and that of primogeniture, were the means by which the great estates of ^T. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 209 Or by Madrid lie takes the route To thrum guitars an' /ir/if lui' 7iowt ; fight with buiia Or down Italian vista startles, Wh-re-hunting amang groves o' myrtles : Then bowses drunilie German water, swiiis muddy To mak himsel look fair an' fatter, An' clear the consequential sorrows, Love-gifts of Carnival signoras. For Britain's guid ! for her destruction ! Wi' dissipation, feud an' faction. IvUATH. Hech man ! dear sirs ! is that the gate aias way They waste sae mony a braw estate ! sne Are we sae foughten an' harass' d so toiled For gear to gang that gate at last ? money go O would they stay aback /r^^-^ courts, from An' please themsels wi' countra sports, It wad for ev'ry ane be better, would The laird^ the tenant, an' the cotter ! land-owner For thae frank, ranting ramblin' these frolicsome billies^ fellows Fient haet d' them's ill-hearted fellows ; not a whit or Except for breakin o' their timmer,* Or speakin lightly o' their limmer^ mistress Or shootin of a hare or moor-cock, f 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 nor hunger e'er can steer them, '^^'^^\ The vera thought o't need na fear them. ""'^^ Britaic were kept entire. There were devices— costly and hard to carry out— by which a proprietor in desperate circumstances might in certain contingencies break the entail, but the doing so was always regarded as a proof of great ex- travagance — generally of dissipation— and unjust to his descendants. The law is now much modified and will probably soon be removed from the Statute Book. -J. H. * Stealing firewood from their plantations.— -J. H. tPoaching. — J. H. I. N 210 POEMS AND SONGS, [1786 ly — d, man, were ye but whyles whare sometimes I am, Tho. gcfitlcs^ ye wad ne'er envy* them ! people of station It's true, they need na starve or sweat, not Thro' winter's catild, or simmer's heat ; coid They've nae sair-wark to craze their hard work) wear out > banes, An' fill auld-age wi' grips an' granes : groans But human bodies are sic fools, creatures such For a' their colleges an' schools, ^ That when nae real ills perplex them, They mak enow themsels to vex them ; An' ay the less they Jiae to sturt them, have distress In like proportion less will hurt them. A country fellow at the pleugh, His acre's till'd, he's right eneugh ; A country girl at her wheel. Her diszeii' s done,t she's iinco weel ; dozen au right But gentlemen, an' ladies zvarst^ worst Wi' ev'n-down want o' wark are curst. They loiter, lounging, lajik an' lazy ; ustiess Tho' deil-haet ails them, yet uneasy : d-i a whit Their days insipid, dull and tasteless ; Their nights unquiet, lang an' restless. An' ev'n their sports, their balls an' races, Their galloping through public places, There's sic parade, sic pomp an' art. The joy can scarcely reach the heart. The men cast-oitt in party matches, quan-ei Then sowther a' in deep debauches. solder Ae night they're mad wi' drink an' wh-ring, one Niest day their life is past enduring. next * Accent on last syllable of envj'. — J. H. f A dozen cuts of one hundred and twenty threads each was the prescribed quantity a country servant lass had to spin after accomplishing her household work.— J. H. » ■ Aft. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS, 211 The ladies arm-in-arm in clllste^s^ As great an' gracious a' as sisters ; But hear their absent thoughts o^ ither^ ofeachothei They're a' run deils* an' jads thegither. jades together Whyles^ owre the wee bit cup an' piatie^ sometimes ^ They sip the scandal-potion pretty ; Or lee-la7ig nights^ wi' crabbet lenks looks} Pore ozejre the devil's pictur'd beuks ;t ovei Stake on a chance a farmer's stackyard^ barnyard An' cheat like ony unhang' d blackguard. There's some exceptions, man an' woman ; But this is gentry's life in common. jBy this, the sun was out o' sight, An' darker gloamitig brought the night ; twilight The bum-clock humm'd wi' lazy drone ; night-beetie The kye stood rowthi i' the loan ; cows lowing lane When up they gat^ an' shook their lugs^ got ears Rejoic'd they were na men, but dogs ; An' each took afF his several way, Resolv'd to meet some ither day. ["The tale of 'Twa Dogs' was composed after the resolution of publishing was nearly taken. Robert had had a dog which he called 'Luath,' that was a great favorite. The dog had been killea by the wanton cruelty of some person the night before my father's death. Robert said to me that he should like to confer such immortality as he could bestow upon his old friend Luath, and that he had a great mind to introduce something into the book under the title of ' Stanzas to the memory of a quadruped friend ; ' but this plan was given up- for the tale as it now stands. 'Ctesar' *D— I's or imps just escaped from their proper home. — J. H. t Cards are called in Scotland the "Deil's picture-books."— J. H. t " The greatest masters of landscape and animal painting," says Waddell, "by their combined efforts could produce no finer representation (of evening) than that which follows in the four succeeding lines. There is not, in the whole com- pass of Shakspeare a more perfect picture, including figure, color, action, time, and sound, with moral sense conjoined, than is here presented in some two-.score words : yet the whole concluding portion of this wonderful work was dashed ofl most probably during an evening's walk or ride from Kilmarnock to Mossgiel, in child-like acquiescence with the suggestions of a printer, and to meet the requirements of the compositor when his operations began." 212 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. was merely the creature of the poet's imagination, created for the purpose of holding chat with his favorite LuathJ" — Letter of Gilbert Burns, vol. iii., Appendix, Currie's Ed. The main object of this poem, Dr. Currie has remarked, "seems to be to inculcate a lesson of contentment on the lower classes of society, by shewing that their superiors are neither much better nor happier than themselves. . . . The dogs of Bums, excepting in their talent for moralizing, are downright dogs, and not, like the horses of Swift, and ' Hind and Panther ' of Dryden, men in the shape of brutes." The first variation we have to notice is in the sixth paragraph of the poem, — some of the poet's more squeamish critics having prevailed on him to change a very simple, natural and graphic couplet to a verj* tame and inexpressive one. Accordingly, in the edition of 1793, instead of the lines in our ttxt, we read as follows : — Until wi' daCBn weary grown, Upon a knowe they sat them down : and from one of his manuscripts of that period, it might be inferred that the alteration cost him some trouble, as the former line there reads thus : — Till tired at last, and weary grown. Some close observer of the canine species has remarked that dogs never choose a "knowe" to sit on. The poet's picture ought not to have been meddled with. The second variation is found in the edition of 1 786, "where, instead of the improved text, we read thus : — "An* purge the bitter ga's an' cankers, O' curat Venetian b— res an' ch— ncrss."! ^T. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 213 THE AUTHOR'S EARNEST CRY AND PRAYER. TO THS SCOTCH REPRESENTATIVES IN THE HOUSE OS COMMONS.* (K11.MARNOCK Ed., 1786.) Dearest of distillation ! last and best How art thou lost! Parodt on Milton. Ye Irish lords, ye knights an' squires, Wha represent our brughs an' shires, An' doucely manage our affairs ,»oberiy In parliament, To you a simple poet's pray'rs Are humbly sent. Alas ! my roopet f muse is hearse ! croupy hoarse Your Honors' hearts wi' grief ' twad pierce, it would To see her sittin on her arse lyow i' the dust, And scriechih out prosaic verse, screeching An' like to brust ! burst Tell them wha hae the chief direction, have Scotland an' me's in great affliction. ♦This was written before the Act anent the Scotch distilleries, of session 17S6, for which Scotland and the Author return their most p;ratcfiil thanks. — R. I>. In 1785 loud complaints were made by the Scotch distillers respecting the vexatious and oppressive manner in which, at the instigation of L,ondon distillers, the ex- cise laws were enforced at their establishments. Many distillers forsook the trade, and the price of barley was affected, while illicit distillation increased alarmingly. In 1786 an act was passed discontinuing the duties on low wines and spirits, and substituting an annual tax on stills according to their capacity. This act gave general satisfaction. This poem is an expression of the poet's feeling in regard to fiscal oppression, and was written end of 1785 or beginning of 1786, during the controversy. — J. H. t Roopit means affected with that peculiar hoarseness, resulting from over, straining the voice, and is from the .same root as the Dutch rofpi-n, to cry aloud, and Scotch roup, an auction. His muse had been " scriechiu " so long that she became " roopit."— J. H. 214 POEMS AND SONGS. E'er sin' tliey laid that curst restriction On aqiia-vitcB ; An' rouse them up to strong conviction, An' move their pity. [1786. whisky Stand forth, an' tell yon Premier youth * The honest, open, naked truth : Tell him o' mine an' Scotland's drouth^ His servants humble : The muckle deevil blaw ye south^ If ye dissemble ! ^ thirst frown trouble swim 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 them ; If honestly they canna come, cannot Far better want them. In gath'rin votes you were na slack ; noi Now stand as tightly by your tack : bargain Ne'er claw your lug^ a.n' Jidge your back, scratch ear) An' hum an' haw ; But raise your arm, an' tell your crack story Before them a'. _,._,,, , ^ . . , weeping o'er\ Faint Scotland greetin owre her thrissle ; thistle i Her mutchin stowp as iooni's a whissle • ^^^sky flagon) , -f ' empty as ' An' a — mn'd excisemen in a bussle, Seizin a slell^ stui Triumphant, crushin't like a mussel, Or limpet shell, f • Mr. Pitt, who was premier at the age of twenty-five. He was boi-n in the same year with Burns— 1759.— J. H. tAt this time Bums had no expectation he was to be an exciseman himself^ and a very inflexible one (except to struggling poverty) at that. — ^J. H. » J^, 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 215 Then, on the h'iker hand, present her — other A blackguard smuggler right behint her, An' cheek- for-chow. a chiiffie vintner, cheek by jown '' ' „ •^. . . ' bloated/ Lolleaguing join. conspiring Pickin' her pouch as bare as winter pocket 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 mitlier's pot oid Thus dung in staves, knocked An' plunder' d o' her hindmost groat,* By gallows knaves ? Alas ! I'm but a nameless wight, Trode i' the mire f out o' sight ! But could I like Montgomeries | fight, Or gab like Boswell, § out / There's some sark-necks I Z£/« Dundas his name :|| Erskine, a spunkie Norland billie ;** '"''"'"'^gelTema"} True Campbells, Frederick and Hay ; ff An' Ivivistone, the baiild Sir Willie ; J| bold An' mony ithers^^ others Whom auld Demosthenes or Tully Might own for brithers. brothers See, sodger Hugh,§§ my watchman soldier stented^ || || bound If bardies e'er are represented ; ,X ken if that your sword were wanted, Ye'd lend a hand ; But when there's ought to say anent it, in regard to Ye' re at a stand, you are at a stand-stiU Arouse, my boys ! exert your mettle, I To get auld Scotland back her kettle; whisky-stin ♦ George Dempster of Dunnichen, M. P. fBlue was the color of the flag borne by the Covenanters when they took the field against Charles II., in his attempt to force episcopacy on Scotland. Hence the phrase: "A true-blue Presbyterian." — J. H. \ Sir Adam Ferguson, M. P. g Marquis of Graham, afterwards Duke of Montrose. 1 Right Hon. Henry Dundas, M. P. ** Thomas, afterwards Lord Erskine. ttLord Frederick Campbell, M. P., brother of the Duke of Argyle, and Hay Campbell, Lord Advocate, afterwards Lord President. %X sir Wm. Augustus Cunningham, Baronet, of Livingston, for some time sat as M. P. for the county of Linlithgow, where he had his estate, which he was after- wards compelled to sell in consequence of incurring electioneering debts. ^Col. Hugh Montgomerie, afterwards Earl of Eglintoun. He was "stented" to be " Bums' watchman," as representing Ayrshire in Parliament, so that Burns, as an Ayrshire man, had a claim on him as his representative, " if bardies e'et are represented." — J. H. 1 1 See note on Stents, p. 205. ^er. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 217 Or faith ! I'll wad my new pleugli-pettle, * wager Ye' 11 see't or lang^ erelong She'll teach you wi' a reekin whittle, ^^°'"'^ smoking. •' ' with blood i Anither sang. This while she's been in crankous mood, ®°™f|™fl ' ticklish J Her lost Militia t fir'd her bluid ; (Deil nor they never mair do guid, Play'd her thaX pliskie f) iii-turn An' now she's like to rin red-wud mad-angry About her whisky. An' L — d ! if ance they pit her tilV /, drive her to it Her tartan petticoat she'll kilt, An' durk an' pistol at her belt, dirk She'll tak the streets, An' rin her whittle to the hilt, sword I' the first she meets ! For G — d-sake, sirs ! then speak her fair, An' straik h^r cannie wi' the hair, stroke gently An' to the Jmcckle house repair, great house (parliament) Wi' instant speed. An' strive, wi' a' your wit an' lear^ learning To get remead. redress Yon ill-tongu'd tinkler, Charlie Fox, May taunt you wi' his jeers an' mocks ; But gie him ' / het, my hearty cocks ! give u him hot E' en cowe the cadie ! % awe feiiow An' send him to his dicing box An' sportin lady. • Implement for cleaning the plough of clods, etc. jThe Scots Militia Bill was burdened with conditions which liberal Members would not accei)t, and it was opposed and lost. t A cadie or caddie was one who gained a livelihood by running messages, espe- cially in the streets of Edinburgh ; hence the word came to be a syuouym for a low fellow. — J. II, 218 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. Tell yon guid bluid o' auld Boconnock's,* good wood I'll be his debt twa mashlum bannocks, f An' drink his health in auld Nanse Tinnock'sJ Nine times a week, If he some scheme, like tea an' winnocks^% windows Wad kindly seek. Could he some commutation broach, I'll pledge my aith in guid braid Scotch, oath broad He needna fear their foul reproach Nor erudition. "^ Yon mixtie-maxtie^ queer hotch-potbh, badly mixed The "Coalition. "II Auld Scotland has a raude tongue ; rough and reckless She's just a devil wi' a rung ; bludgeon An' if she promise auld or young To tak their part, Tho' by the neck she should be strung, She'll no desert. And now, ye chosen Five-and-Forty,** May still your mither's heart support ye ; Then, tho' a minister grow dorty^ sulky An' kick your place, Ye' 11 snap your fingers, poor an' hearty, Before his face. * Pitt was a grandson of Robert Pitt of Boconnock in Cornwall. Pitt (as well as his father, the Earl of Chatham) was a favorite of Bums. Later, we shall see, he changed, and, on one occasion, Pitt's health being given as a toast, Bums, to his own injury, suggested to substitute a health to Washington. — J. H. + Mashlum bannocks or scones are made of a mash of various kinds of grain. t A worthy old hostess of the Author's in Mauchline, where he .sometimes studies politics over a glass of gude auld "Scotch Drink." — R. B. Nine times a week is, of course, a poetical exaggeration, besides it is to be remembered the potations in the old lady's house were generally of home-brewed ale, of which both' lads and lasses were wont to be partakers. The remark made in reference to Bums' temperance in the note to "Scotch Drink" applies equally to this piece. — ^J. IL g Some duty was taken off tea, and the loss made up by a window-tax. I See note p. 63. ** Scotland was allowed by the Act of Union just forty-five representatives in the House of Commons, and sixteen representative peers in the House of I^rds. -J. H. ier. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 219 God bless your Honors, a' your days, Wi' sowps o' kail and brats o' claise,* In spite o' a' the thievish kaes^ jack-daws That haunt SL Jamie's / st^jamet} Your humble poet sings an' prays, While Rab his name is. POSTSCRIPT. Let half-starv'd slaves in wanner skies See future wines, rich-clust'ring, rise ; Their lot auld Scotland ne'er envies, But, biythe and frisky, cheerful She eyes her freeborn, martial boys Tak aff their whisky. take oa What tho' their Phcebus kinder warms. While fragrance blooms and beauty charms, When wretches range, in famish' d swarms, The scented groves ; Or, hounded forth, dishonor arms In hungry droves ! Their gun's a burthen on their slioiitJicr; shoulder ATA1 7 1 • T ^ ' 1 ^ L 7 cannot stand \ 1 hey aowtia bide the stmk o poivther ; powder) Their bauldest thought's a hank'' ring S2ai/ /ler homt-si-t To stand or rin, hesitating doubt) Till ske//> — a shot — they're aff, a' throzv' thcr crack) To save their skin. tbrough-otber/ But bring a Scotchman frac his hill, Clap in his cheek a Highland gill, "tow Say, such is royal George's will. An' there's the foe I He has nae thought l)nt how to kill Twa at a blow. ♦Sups of kalt-broth and duds of clothes.— J. II. 220 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. Nae cauld^ faint-hearted doubtings tease him ; coid Death comes, wi' fearless eye he sees him ; Wi' bluidy hand a welcome gies him ; An' when hey2z'j, fails His latest draught o' breathin led' es him leaves In faint huzzas. Sages their solemn een may sleeky eyes shut An' raise a philosophic reck^ smoke An' physically causes seek, In clime an' seasofi ; But tell me whisky's name in Greek, I'll tell the reason. Scotland, my auld, respected mither ! Tho' zvhiles ye moistify your leather^ sometimes skin Till, wliare ye sit on craps o' heather, bunches Ye tine your dam ; lose Freedom and whisky gang thegither ! go Tak aff your dram ! [In this piece, our poet returns, with increased poetic fervor, to the theme of "Scotch Drink." We of this generation are apt to wonder why, in the opening line, he addresses "Irish lords" instead of those of our own Scotland, when hailing the "Scotch repre- sentatives in the House of Commons : " but the eldest sons of Scottish peers not being eligible for election in Scotland, while the sons of Irish peers were eligible, seems to have been felt by Burns as a national affront. (It is probable that some of this class actually represented Scotch constituencies. We must therefore regard the prominence here given to "Irish lords" as a pointed stroke of satire. The question was tried by Lord Daer, sou of the Earl of Selkirk, during the poet's lifetime, both in the Court of Session and House of Lords, and decided against him. Let it be noted that the poem opens with a compliment to sobriety in the person of the Irish peers and other Scottish representatives. — J. H.) The fifteenth stanza was excluded by the author in published copies, — for what reason Gilbert Burns could not say : but clearly it was to avoid giving offence to the gallant soldier by the allusion to his deficiency as a speaker. The closing verse, which Currie approvingly characterises as a "most laughable, but most irreverent 9 » ■ ^T. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 221 apostrophe," underwent, in the edition of 1794, a change which has been rejected by every editor of the poet. The innovation seems to have been suggested by Mr. Alexander Fraser Tytler. "Till when ye speak, ye ablin's blether, Yet, deil mak matter! Freedom and whisky gang thegither, Tak aff your whitter 1"! THE ORDINATION. (Edinburgh Ed., 1787.) " For sense, they little owe to frugal Heav'n — To please the mob they hide the little giv'n." Kilmarnock wabsters^ fi(^g(^ an' claw^* An' pour your creeshic nations ; greasy tribes An' ye wha leather i^ax an' draw, stretch Of a' denominations ; Swith ! to the Laigh Kirk, ane an' a',t An' there tak up your stations ; Then afF to Begbie'sl in a raw^ row An' pour divine libations For joy this day. Cnrst ' ' Common-sense, ' ' that imp o' h-11, Cam in wi' Maggie Lauder :§ But Oliphant || aft made her yell, All' Russell** sair misca'd her: * Fidget and scratch — signs of pleasant excitement among hand-loom weavers. Kilmarnock was then a town of three or four thousand inhabitants, largely em- ployed in the manufacture of carpets, bonnets, etc., and (Chambers says) in the preparation of leather. — J. H. toff, to the Ivow Church, one and all— JII. \ Hegbie's Inn, in p, small court near the I.aigh Kirk. \ Alhiding to a scoffing ballad which was made on the admission of the late reverend and worthy Mr. Lindsay to the " I.aigh Kirk."— A". R. II Rev. James Oliphant, minister of Cliapel of Kase, Kilmarnock, from 1764 to 1774- ♦♦Rev. John Russell of Kilmarnock, one of the " Twa Herds." He was successor lo Oliphant. See notes pp. 83, 129. 222 POEMS AND SONGS. • [1786. This day Mackinlay * taks the flail, f An' he's the boy will blaud her ! spank He'll clap a sJiangan on her tail, tin kettle An' set the bairns to daiid her bespatter Wi' dirt this day. Mak haste an' turn King David owre^ over An' //// wi' holy clangor ; sing O' double verse come gie us four, an eight line stanza An' skirl up ' ' the Bangor : " | strike up shniiy This day the kirk kicks up a stoure^ dust {disturbance) Nae mair the knaves shall wrans" her : nomore^ T^ XT • • 1 , An' turn a carpet-weaver, Aff-haiid this day. right away Mu'triet and you were just a match, We never had sic twa drones ; Aiild ^'■Hornie'''' did the Laigh Kirk watch. Just like a winkin baudrons^ And ay he catch' d the tithcr wretch, To fry them in his caiidrojis ; But now his Honor maii7i detach^ Wi' a' his brimstone squadrons. Fast, fast this day. the D— 1 1 low church i cat tother caldrons must make oflf See, see auld Orthodoxy's facs foes She's swingein thro' the city ! Hark, how the nine-tail' d cat she plays ! I vow it's U71C0 pretty : uncommonly There, Learning, with his Greekish face, Grunts out some Latin ditty ; • Rev. John Robertson, colleagfue of Dr. Mackinlay, ordained 1765, died 1798. He belonged to the "Common-sense" order of preachers, t A district of Kilmarnock, where carpet weaving was largely carried on. IThe Rev. John Multrie, a "Moderate" whom Mackinlay succeeded. ET. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 225 And "Common-sense" \s gatiu^ she says, going To mak to Jamie Beattie * Her plaint this day. But there's Morality himsel, Embracing all opinions ; Hear, how he gies the lit her yell, gives the other Between his twa companions ! two See, how she peels the skin an' fcll^ hide As ane were peel in onions ! one Now there, they're packed aff to h-U, An' banish' d our dominions, Henceforth this day. O happy day ! rejoice, rejoice ! Come house about the porter ! sit round carousing Morality's demure decoys Shall here nae mair find quarter : no more Mackinlay, Russell, are the boys That heresy can torture ; They'll gie her on a rape a hoyse^ rope hoist And cowe her measure shorter cut By th' head some day. Come, bring the tither nnitcJikiii in, pint of whisky And here's — for a conclusion — To ev'ry " new-light " t niother's son, From this time forth, confusion ! If mair they deave us wi' their diti deafen noise Or patronage intrusion, We'll light a spunky and ev'ry skin, match We'll ri)i tlu'}>i ajf i)i fusion^ mcit them oir Like oil some day. •The poet, and author of an "Essay on Truth," who was reckoned to side with the modcratt? party in church matters. t A cant-phrase in the West of Scotland, for those religious opinions which Dr. Taylor of Norwich has defended so strenuously.— A', li. See p. iiy. I. O 226 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. [The poet's letter to Richmond of 17th February, 17S6, intimates that the present poem had already been composed : but it is a curious fact that Dr. Mackinlay's ordination did not take place till 6th April thereafter. Both in this poem and its companion satire, "The Holy Fair," a personality named " Common-Sense " is introduced. This means the "new light," or Arminian doctrine that began to be observable in the teaching of some Scotch pulpits, about the middle of last century, and which Burns lent all his powers to promote. Here he retraces the history of the " Laigh Kirk" of Kilmarnock so far back as the year 1764, and shows that a series of consecutive appointments of "New lyight" ministers then commenced with the Rev. William Lindsay. He refers to "a scoffing ballad" of that date which more than hinted that the minister obtained that appointment through the influence of his wife, a Miss Margaret Lauder, who had formerly been housekeeper to and in high favor with the patron, the Earl of Glencairn. On the present occasion, however, the Earl yielded to the popular wishes, and the refreshing " old light " again spread its halo around the Laigh Kirk. (Mackinlay survived till 1841 ; into his personal history there is no reason to enter. His son, the Rev. James Mackinlay, died in Edinburgh so recently as June, 1876. "Poeticall3%" says Waddell, "the ordination is remarkable as an illustration of the poet's most caustic style, and of his inimitable gift of discomfiting antagonists by the quiet repro- duction of their own views." Historically, it is interesting as a record of the state of ecclesiastical polity at the time, and of the discussion of questions which resulted in the Disruption of the Church.— J. H.) The following variations on stanzas fourth and fifth are found in an early manuscript of this poem : — Come wale a text, a proper verse, select And touch it aff wi' vigor, How Ham leugh at his father's a — laughed Which made Canaan a nigger ; Or Phineas did fair Cozbie pierce Wi' whore-abhorring rigor ; Or Zipporah, wi' scaulding hearse, &c. There, try his mettle on the creed, Wi' formula and confession ; formula And lay your hands upon his head, And seal his high commission. The holy flock to tent and feed, g^ard And punish each transgression, &c.] ^T. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 227 EPISTLK TO JAMES SMITH. [KlI^MARNOCK Ed., 1786.] " Friendship, mysterious cement of the soul I Sweet'ner of I,ife, and solder of Society 1 I owe thee much " Dear Smith, the slee'st^ pawkie thief, slyest That e'er attempted stealth or rief! Ye surely hae some ^2x\oQ^-breef Ow7^e human hearts ; For ne'er a bosom yet was prief Against your arts. Blair. roguish robbery spell over proof For me, I swear by sun an' moon. An' ev'r}^ star that blutks aboon^ twinkles above Ye've cost me twenty pair o' shooii^ shoes Just ga2i7i to see you ; going An' ev'ry iiher pair that's done, other Mair tacn I'm wi' you. more) captivated > That auld, capricious carlin^ Nature, To mak amends for scrimpct stature, She's turn'd you off, a human-creature On her first plan. And in her freaks, on ev'ry feature She's wrote the Man. dame stinted Just now I've tacn the fit o' rhyme, taken My barmie noddle^ s working prime, yeasty brain is My fancy ycrket up sublime, worked Wi' hasty summon : Hae ye a leisure-moment's time have To hear what's coniiu? 228 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. Some rhyme a ncibor' s name to lash ; neighbor Some rhyme (vain thought !) for needfu' cash : Some rhyme to court the countra clash^ gossip An' raise a din ; make a noise For me, an aim I never fash ; trouble myself about I rhyme for fun. The star that rules my luckless lot, Has fated me the russet coat, An' damn'd my fortune to the p^roat ; smaiicoin) . four-pence J But, m requit. Has blest me with a random-shot O' countra wit. for some time back ) This while my notion's taen a sklent^ ^^^"' To try my fate in guid, black prent; print (to publish) But still the 7?iair I'm that way bent, more Something cries ' ^Hoolie ! softly I r^^ you, honest man, tak tent! counsel be cautious Ye' 11 shaw your folly ; show There's ither poets, much your betters. Far seen in Greek, deep men o' letters, ^^learnedl Hae thought they had ensur' d their debtors, have A' future ages : Now moths deform, in shapeless tatters. Their unknown pages." Then farewell hopes of laurel-boughs, To garland my poetic brows ! Henceforth I'll rove where busy ploughs Are whistlin thrang^ diligently An' teach the lanely heights an' homes vaiieys My rustic sang. I'll wander on, wi' tentlcss heed careless How never-halting moments speed, » ■ .1-T. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 229 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 an' hale ; Then top and maintop crowd the sail. Heave Care o'er-side ! And large, before Enjoyment's gale, I^et's tak the tide. This life, sae far's I understand. Is «' enchanted fairy-land, au Where Pleasure is the magic-wand. That, wielded right, Maks hours like minutes, hand in hand, Dance by fit' light. fuii The magic-wand then let us wield; For, ance that five-an' -forty's spcePd, climbed See, crazy, weary, joyless eild, oidage Wi' wrinkl'd face. Comes hostin^ hirpiiii oivre the field,'^'^"s'^>°8^'"™P'"ffl IjT , . over 1 yvv creepni pace. ^^.^,, When ance life'sday draws near the j^loamin, o,,,.^) Then fareweel vacant, careless roamin ; twiugiui An' fareweel chearfu' tankards foamin, An' social noise : An' fareweel dear, deluding woman. The joy of joys ! O lyife ! how pleasant, in tliy morning, Young Fancy's rays the hills adorning I 230 POEMS AND SONGS. [178& Cold-pausing Caution's lesson scorning, We frisk away, Like school-boys, at th' expected warning, To joy an' 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 gi^ieves.* Some, lucky, find a flow'ry spot. For which they never toil'd nor swat ; sweated They drink the sweet and eat the fat, But care or pain ; without And haply eye the barren hut With hio-h disdain. "t>' With steady aim, some fortune chase ; Keen hope does ev'r}^ sinew brace ; Thro' fair, thro' foul, they urge the race, An' seize the prey : Then cannie^ in some cosie place, quietly snug They close the day. And others, like your humble servan' Poor wights ! nae rules nor roads observin, feUows no To right or left eternal swervin, They zig-zag on ; Till, curst with age, obscure an' starvin. They aften groan. often * " Where can we find a more exhilarating enumeration of the enjoyments of youth contrasted with their successive extinction as age advances, than in the Epistle to James Smith .?"— Professor Walker. ^^- 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 231 Alas ! what bitter toil an' straiuine — But truce with peevish, poor complaining ! Is fortune's fickle Luna waning? E'en let \i&r gano^ f go 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 o'er, In all her climes. Grant me but this, I ask no more. Ay rowih o' rhymes, abundance of *'Gie drecping roasts to coimtra /^/r«^^, country land-owne"!} Till icicles king frae their beards ; hang from Gie fine braw claes to fine life-guards, gay clothes And maids of honor ; An' yill an' whisky gie to cairds^ aie give tinkers Until they SCOIiner. are nauseated *'A title, Dempster* merits it; A garter gie to Willie Pitt ; f give Gie wealth to some be-ledger'd cit, give 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-brosc or vi2islin-kail^ icntcn soup Wi' chearfu' face. As lang's the Muses diuiia fail do not To say the grace." •George Dempster of Dunnichcii, M. P., a distinguished patriot and conspicu- ous orator in Parliament, referred to in " The Autlior's ICarncst Cry," p. 216. tWe have already referred to the poet's partiality at this period for both Pitt and his father, the Ivarl of Chatham.— J. H. 232 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. An anxious e''e 1 never throws Behint my lug^ or by my nose ; * I joiik beneath Misfortune's blows As weel's I may ; Sworn foe to sorrow, care, and prose, I rhyme away. eye ear past dodge quietly decent sod fence O ye douce folk that live by rule, Grave, tideless-blooded, calm an' cool, Compar'd wi' you — O fool ! fool ! fool ! How much unlikts ! Your hearts are just a standing pool. Your lives a dyke I 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 fcrly tho' ye do despise Til : h liriini-scairufn^ ram-stain boys, predpitate^ ^** } The rattling squad : I see ye upward cast your eyes — Y^ ken the road ! know the way | wondei" (lo heaven) Whilst I — but I shall haud me there, Wi' you I'll scarce ^«;;^ ony where — Then, Jamie, I shall say nae inair^ But quat my sang, Content wi' you to mak a pair, Whare'er I gang. hold {stop) go no more quit go * Never cast an eye behind or before : never trouble myself with pastor fuAure. -J. H. t Accent on penult. je,r. 28. POEMS AND SONGS. 233 [James Smith, the person here addressed, was a shopkeeper in Mauchline, short of stature, but vigorous in mind. From what we have said of him (p. 157, supra) as the "wag in Mauchline," celebrated in one of Burns' cleverest epigrams, and as "fiscal" of the "Court of Equity" held at the Wliilefoord Arms Inn, the reader will need little more information regarding him. He stood Burns' friend "through thick and thin," when he got into diffi- culties early in the Spring of 17S6, in relatioji to his love-alliance with Jean Armour. The first intimation of trouble regarding that affair is given in the poet's letter to Richmond, 17th February, 1786, in which he says : "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." Smith afterwards had a calico-printing manufactory at Avon, near Linlithgow, but proved unsuccessful. It was his fate to end life sooner even than our poet, and in the very place where Burns at one time expected to end /lis — the West Indies.] (This is a specimen of these epistles, the style of which was suggested to Burns by the corresponding epistles of Hamilton of Gilbertfield, Allan Ramsay, and his favorite Fergusson. "A type of a much higher kind," says Waddell, "although certainly un- known to Burns, is recognizable in the Odes of Horace. The metre it.self most favorite with him, although not exactly the same, is very similar to that of Burns in his F^pistles ; but the simi- larity of style, in thought, in sententious philosophy, in epigram- matic reflection, in discursive sally, converting themselves insensibly to proverbial utterances, is so remarkable that it could be fairly illustrated only by parallel quotations of entire passages." . Little does "the scholar, engro.ssed with classical lore, . . . ima- gine that all this philosophy (of Horace) has been reproduced and broadened by an Ayrshire ploughman, in a rude northern dialect — diversified by endless variety of observation, enriched with a geni- ality of humor of which Horace was incapable, and sweetened with a tenderness of sympathy absolutely foreign to his selfish Roman nature."— J. II.) 234 POEMS AND SONGS. [178^ THE VISION. (Kn^MARNOCK Ed., 1786.) DUAN FIRST.* The sun had clos'd the winter day, The curlers qiiat their roarin play,t And hunger' d maiikin taeii her way, To kail-yards green, While faithless snaws ilk step betray Whare she has been. quitted hare taken kitchen gardens snows each The thresher's weary fiingin-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. flail whole long eye went There, lanely by the ingle-cheeky fireside I sat and ey'd the spewing reek^ smoke vomiting forth That filPd, wi' /^<9<2^/-provoking smeek^ cough smoke The auld clay biggin; building An' heard the restless rations squeak rats About the riggin. thatched roof All in this mottie^ misty clime. I backward mus'd on wasted time. mucky * Duan, a term of Ossian's for the different divisions of a digressive poem. See his Cath-Ivoda, vol. 2, of M'Pherson's translation. — R. B. \ Not only from the hilarity of the game, but from the roaring sound of the curling-stone along the hollow ice. X In Scotland formerly the ordinary farm-house had but two apartments on the ground floor, the but, or outer apartment or kitchen, and the ben, or inner apart- ment, spence or parlor. The farm-house of Mossgiel was of this description. Ben is here used as a preposition — within. — J. H. Sri. 28.] PC EMS AND SONGS. 235 How I had spent my youthfu' prime, An' done naething, But stringing blethers up in rhyme, nonsense For fools to sin Of. Had I to guid advice but Jiarket^ hearkener I might, by this, hae led a market,* Or strutted in a bank and clarket cierke' Ye need na doubt, I held my zuhisht ; was stiii The infant aith, half-form'd, was cruslit ; oath I glowr'd as eerie's I'd been duslit,t In some wild glen ; When sweet, like modest Worth, she blusht, An' stepped /)eii. iu ♦ Farmers of especial wealth and influence with tlicir class arc said to " lead the markets."— J. H. + Aflcctcd with mysterious awe, I stared as if I were stupefied and speechless with amazement. — ^J. H. 236 POEMvS AND SONGS. [1786. Green, slender, leaf-clad holly-boughs Were twisted, gracefu' , round her brows ; I took her for some Scottish Muse, By that same token ; And come to stop those reckless vows, Would soon been broken. A " hair-brain' d, sentimental trace"* Was strongly marked in her face ; A wildly- witty, rustic grace Shone full upon h^r ; Her eye, ev'n tum'd on empty space, Beam'd keen with honor, f Down flow'd her robe, a tartan sheen, Till half a leg was scrimpiy seen ; barely An' such a leg ! my bonie Jean % Could only peer it ; _j , • 1 » 7 straight > bae straiight, sae taper, tight an cleajt — weii-made Nane else came near it. Her mantel 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. *A quotation from his own words in the preceding epistle to James Smith, page 232. tThis couplet was a great favorite with Dr. Chalmers, who referred to it as the description of an eye too divine for fallen humanity to possess. t'My bonie Jean." About the month of January or February 17S6, when, as *:e conjecture, this poem was composed, these words must have stood as in the text. But when his poems were at the press, the author's irritation on her account caused him to alter the words to " my Bess, I ween," — and so they stand in the Kilmarnock edition : but in 1787, that irritation having subsided, Jean was re- stored to her place of honor in the poem. (When Burns was alienated from Jean Armour he became betrothed to Mary Campbell— his " Highland Mary." Why, then, did he not substitute her name for that of Jean ? Burns' feeling of delicacy prevented this, and the verj' omis- sion furnishes the best evidence of Mary's purity. His Bess and Jean had both compromised themselves ; Mary never. She could not be named in connection with an allusion even suggestive of indelicacy. — J. H.) » ■ ^T. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 237 Here, rivers in the sea were lost ; There, mountains to the skies were toss't: Here, tumbling billows mark'd the coast, With surging foam ; There, distant shone Art's lofty boast, The lordly dome. Here, Doon pourM down his far- fetch' d floods ; There, well-fed Irwine stately thuds ; sounds Auld hennit Ayr staw thro' his woods, stole 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 ;t Still, as in Scottish story read. She boasts a race To ev'ry nobler virtue bred. And polish' d grace. J [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 heroic § wheel. ♦Rums more tlian once complains (see p. 117) that wliilc the Tay, J'orth, VX- trick, Tweeti and other Scottish streams flowed to the sea to the sound of music sweeter than their own, no one had sung the streams of Ayrshire.— J. H. + Ayr, whose charter dates from the be.srinninff of the thirteenth century.— J. W. t Here, in the first edition, Ditan First came to .a close; the additional seven stanzas were appended in the second edition, apparently in compliment to Mr& Dunlop and other influential friends of the author. \ The descendants of Wallace, the Scottish patriot-hero. — J. U. 238 POEMS AND SONGS. [178G. And brandish round the deep-dyed steel, In sturdy blows ; While, back-recoiling, seem'd to reel Their SUthron foes, southern or English His Country's Saviour,* mark him well I Bold Richard ton's heroic swell ;t The chief, on Sark who glorious fell| In high command ; And he whom ruthless fates expel '^ His native land. There, where a sceptr'd Pictish shade Stalk' d round his ashes lowly laid, § I mark'd a martial race, pourtray'd In colors strong : Bold, soldier- featur'd, undismay'd, They strode along. Thro' many a wild, romantic grove, I| Near many a hermit-fancied cove (Fit haunts for friendship or for love, In musing mood), An aged Judge, I saw him rove, Dispensing good. * William Wallace.—/?. B. + Adam Wallace of Richardton, cousin to the immortal preserver of Scottish independence. — R. B. I Wallace, laird of Craigie, who was second in command, under Douglas, Earl of Ormond, at the famous Battle on the banks of Sark, fought in 1448. The glori- ous victory was principally owing to the judicious conduct and intrepid valor of the gallant laird of Craigie, who died of his wounds after the action. — R. B. g 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. — R. B. See note on " Twa Dogs," p. 203. II Barskimming, the seat of the Lord Justice-Clerk.—/?. B. (Sir Thomas Miller of Glenlee, afterwards President of the Court of Session.) 9 » ■ Mt. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 239 With deep-struck, reverential awe, 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. Bry don's brave ward f 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, j DUAN SECOND. With musing-deep, astonish' d stare, I view'd the heavenly-seeming Fair ; A whispering 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 ! * Catrine, the seat of the late Doctor and present Professor Stewart.— J?. B. The father of Dugald Stewart was eminent in Mathematics. t Colonel Fnllarton.— /?. /A He had travelled under the care of Patrick Bry- done, author of a well-known puhlication, "A Tour through Sicily and MalU." The Duke of Portland now owns Kullarton House and broad acres. -40 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. " 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 labors 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 unseen To mend the honest patriot-lore. And orrace the hand. t>' **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, FuUarton, the brave and young; Hence, Dempster's zeal-inspired tongue ; f Hence, sweet, harmonious Beattie sung His ' Minstrel ' lays ; Or tore, with noble ardor stung. The sceptic's bays. *This stanza was added in the second edition (1787). + See note on Epistle to James Smith, see p. 231. ,rvj :. :u /iqffiii auii ui'i this ami ie teach THE VISION— " Down flow'd her robe, a tartan sheen, Till half a leg was scrim ply seen." -' Jl^r. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 2^] *'To lower orders are assign'd The humbler ranks of hiiinan-kind, The rustic bard, the laboring hind, The artisan ; All chuse, 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. cheerfiii *'Some hint the lover's harmless wile ; Some grace the maiden's artless smile ; Some soothe the laborer'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 opening grace, A guide and guard. *'0f these am I — Coila my name:* And this district as mine I claim, Where once the Campbells, f chiefs of fame, Held ruling pow'r : I mark'd thy embryo-tuneful flame, Thy natal hour. * Bums acknowledpres hnvlnpr obtnined the idea of this visionary from (he "Scota" of Alex. Ross, a Meanis poet, and author of a pastoral of some merit entitled '/'///■ Foitiiiiair Slirphi-riliss. Ross must have read Cay to purjjosc.- -J. H. + The Loudou branch of the Campbells is here referred to. I. P 242 POEMS AND SONGS. 1 1786. "With future hope I oft would gaze Fond, on thy little early ways, Thy rudely caroll'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 thro' the sby, I saw grim Nature's visage hoar Struck thy young eye. "Or when the deep green-mantled earth Warm cherish'd ev'ry floweret'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 Call'd forth the reapers' rustling noise, I saw thee leave their ev'ning 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. ** 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 243 *'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 Coiia'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 th' 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 ; • ■ Burns enjoyed local fame even before he ptiblislicd his Kilmarnock edition. He gave copies of his poems freely around. In particular he committed many of them to the care of Jltr. Aiken, Gavin Hamilton's advocate, and also tax collec- tor, Ayr. (See Inventory). Mr. Aiken read them to all whom he thought likely to appreciate them, giving them the benefit of his elocution, which all acknowl- edge to have had a wonderful cfTlct. Hums himself says, "Mr. Aiken read me into fame." We can thus see how hi« fame extended over "all Coiia's wide do- mains."— J. H. 244 POEMS AND SONGS. !.i7bo. 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. [In a letter which Burns addressed to Mrs. Dunlop from Edin- burgh, on 15th January, 17S7, he enclosed the seven concluding stanzas of Duan first, as in the text, and wrote as follows : — " 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 Kyle, of which the additional stanzas are a part, as it originally stood." To another patroness — Mrs. Stewart, of Stair — he had presented a manuscript book of ten leaves, folio, containing, along with several early poems, a copy of the Vision. That copy embraces about twenty stanzas which he cancelled when he came to print the piece in his Kilmarnock volume. Seven of these, as we have seen, he restored in printing his second edition, and the remainder of the suppressed verses we now append. The ten leaves of the poet's handwriting just referred to are generally styled the "Stair manu- script." It was purchased by the late IVIr. Dick, bookseller in Ayr, from the grandson of Mrs. Stewart, of Stair ; and, since Mr. Dick's decease, it has been cut asunder and sold piecemeal by his .•representatives. ^T. 28.] POEMS AND vSONGS. 24') Referring to the suppressed stanzas of the 'Vision,' Chambers thus observes: — "It is a curious and valuable document — valuable for an unexpected reason, namely, its proving what might other- wise be doubted, that Burns was not incapable of writing weakly. The whole of the inedited stanzas are strikingly of this character. Perhaps there is, after all, a second and a greater importance in the document, as showing how, with the capability of writing ineffectively, his taste was so unerring as to prevent him from publishing a single line that was not fitted to command respect ; for every one of the poor stanzas has been thrown out on sending the poem to the press."] SUPPRESSED STANZAS OF "THE VISION." (Chambers, 1852.) After eighteenth stanza of the text : — With secret throes I marked that earth, That cottage, witness of my birth ; Atid near I saw, bold issuing forth In youthful pride, A Lindsay race of noble worth, Famed far and wide. Where, hid behind a spreading wood, An ancient Pict-built mansion stood, I spied, .among an angel brood, A female pair ; Sweet shone their high maternal blood. And father's air.* An ancient tower t to memory brought How Dettingcn's bold hero fought ; Still, far from sinking into nought, It owns a lord Who far in western climates fought, With trusty sword Among the rest I well could spy One gallant, graceful, martial boy, The soldu-r sparkled in his eye, A tliamond water ; I blest that noble badge witli joy That ownetl me ftaUr. J * Sundrum.— ^. B. Hnmilton of Sundrum was married to a sister ol Colonel Montgomeric of Coilsfield. t Stair.— A'. H. That old mansion was then possessed by General Stewart and his lady, to whom the MS. was presented. } Captain James Monlgomerie, Master of St. James' Lodge, Tarbolton, to which the author has the honor to belong. — R. B. 246 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. After twentieth stanza of the text : — Near by arose a mansion fine, * The seat of many a muse divine ; Not rustic muses such as mine, With holly crown'd, But th' ancient, tuneful, laurell'd Nine, From classic ground. I mourn'd the card that Fortune dealt. To see where bonie Whitefoords dwelt ; f But other prospects made me melt. That village near ; J There Nature, Friendship, I,ove, I felt, Fond-mingling dear ! ■^ Hail ! Nature's pang, more strong than Death ! Warm Friendship's glow, like kindling wrath I lyOve, dearer than the parting breath Of dying friend ! Not ev'n with life's wild devious path. Your force shall end t The Pow'r that gave the soft alarms In blooming Whitefoord's rosy charms, Still threats the tiny, feather'd arms. The barbed dart, While lovely Wilhelminia warms The coldest heart, g After twenty-first stanza of the text : — Where Lugar leaves his moorland plaid, | Where lately Want was idly laid, I marked busy, bustling Trade, In fervid flame, Beneath a Patroness's aid, Of noble name. Wild, countless hills I could survey, And countless flocks as wild as they; But other scenes did charms display. That better please, Where polish'd manners dwell with Gray, In rural ease.** Where Cessnock pours with gurgling sound ; ft And Irwine, marking out the bound. * Auchinleck.— ^. B. f Ballochmyle. \ Mauchline. § A compliment to Miss Wilhelmina Alexander as successor, in that locality to f/liss Maria Whitefoord. n Cumnock.—^. B. ** Mr. Farquhar Gray.— .^. B. tt Auchinskieth.— .^. B. ^r. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 247 Enamor'd of the scenes around, Slow runs his race, A name I doubly honor'd found,* With knightly grace. Brydon's brave ward, t I saw him stand, Fame humbly offering her hand. And near, his kinsman's rustic band, \ With one accord, I 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. [This is pre-emiuently one of those poems whose lines become "mottoes of the heart." In all likelihood, the period in Bums' life we have now reached, in the order of our chronology, was the date of its composition : yet it is rather remarkable that he withheld it from publication in his Kilmarnock edition of that year. There is a prose passage inserted in his Common-place Book, under date March, 1784, in which the line of reflection and argument is very similar to that in this poem. The passage being somewhat lengthy, we refer t4ie reader to it in another portion of this work.] ("A more beautiful blending of humor with the purest charity and wisdom is, perhaps, not to be found in any similar composition in any language." Such is the verdict of P. Hately Waddell on this wonderful production, and the great heart of the world answers, Amen !— J. H.) * A modern poetess. Miss Adelaide Proctor, has very elegantly elaborated the Bentiment of these two verses, and in all probability she got the idea from Burns: " Judge not ; the working of his brain And of his heart thou canst not see ; What looks to thy dim eyes a stain, In God's pure light may only be A scar, brought from some well-fought field. Where thou wouldst only faint and yield." » ^T. 28.] POEMvS AND vSONGS. 253 THE INVENTORY ; IN ANSWER TO A MANDATE BY THE SURVEYOR OE THE TAXES. (CURRIE, 1800, COMPD. WITH STEWART, 180I.) Sir, as your mandate did request, I send you here a faithfu' list, O' gudes an' gcar^ an' a' vay graith^ cash substance To which I'm clear to gV e my aith. give oath Imprimis^ then, for carriage cattle, I hae four brutes o' gallant mettle, have As ever drew before a pcttlc. piough-stick My hand-afore' s * 2, guid aiild 'has been,' good old An' wight an' wi/fii* a' his days been ; powerful wiiifui My haiid-ahin'sf a weel gaiui fiUie, weii-going That aft has borne me hame frae Killie^ Kiimamock An' your auld borough mony a time, J In days when riding was nae crime. [But ance^ when in my wooing pride once I, like a blockhead, boost to ride, behoved The wilfu' creature sae I pat to^ pushed (L — d pardon a' my sins, an' that too !) I play'd my fillie sic a shavie^ tnck She's a' bedevil'd wi' the spavie.^ spavin My furr-ahin's§ a ivordy beast, worthy As e'er in tug or torv was traced. trace or rope The fourth's a Highland Donald hastic^ quicktempered A d — n'd red-wud Kilburnie blastie ! || stark-mad imp * Fore horse on the left hand in the plough. t Hindmost on the left hand in the plough. jAyr. g Hindmost on the right hand in the Plough II He had bought it at Kilbiruie fair. 254 POEMvS AND SONGS. [1786. Foreby a coiut o' cowts the walc^ coit choice As ever ran before a tail : Gin he be spar'd to be a beast, He'll draw me fifteen piind at least. pounds sterling Wheel-carriages I ha'e but few, Three carts, an' twa are feckly new ; nearly An auld wheelbarrow, mair for token, Ae leg an' baith the trams are broken ; both handles I made a poker o' the spin'le, An' my auld mither brunt the trhi'le. bumed wheel For men, I've three mischievous boys, Run-deils for ranting an' for noise ; mad caps froUc A gaudsman * ane, a thrasher t' other : Wee Davock hauds the nowt \n father. ^'''^^ /^"^^] -' fodder^ I rule them as I ought, discreetly, An' aften labor them completely ; An' ay on Sundays duly, nightly, I on the ' ' Questions ' ' t tar-ge them tightly ; examine Till, faith! wee Davock' $% grown S2,^ gleg^ Th^i Tho' scarcely langer than your \^^^ taiier He'll screed you «/" Effectual Calling, '■^P^^Jje^tlu°o"n} As fast as ony in the dwalling. I've nane in female servan' station, (L — d keep me ay frae a' temptation !) always from I hae nae wife — and that my bliss is, An' ye have laid nae tax on misses ; An' then, if kirk folks dinna clutch me, do not I ken the deevils darena touch me. dare not Wi' weans I'm mair than weel contented children Heav'n sent me ane mair than I wanted: one more * A driver of the plough team : the name is derived from the practice of using a gaud or goad to incite the animals, especially where oxen are employed.^ J. H. t On the Shorter Catechism of the Westminster Assembly of Divines. Every decent farmer catechized his servants on it each Sabbath evening. " IVhal is Effectual Calling" is one of the questions.— J. H. X The diminutive termination ock or oc is almost peculiar to Ayrshire ; thus, there, a young girl is either lassie or lassock, elsewhere in Scotland it is only lassie. — J. H. ^T. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 255 My sonsic, smirking, dear bought Bess,* plump She stares the daddy in her face,t Enough of ought ye like but grace : But her, my bonie, sweet wee lady, I've paid enough for her already ; An^ gin ye tax her or her mither, and if By the ly— d, ye' se get them «' thegither! you^iin And now, remember, Mr. Aiken, Nae kind of licence out I'm takin : \Frae this time forth, I do declare from Pse ne'er ride horse nor hhzie mair ;] iwiu hussy Thro' dirt and dub for life I'll paidle^ wade Ere I sae dear pay for a saddle, My travel a', on foot I'll shank it^ foot it I've sturdy bearers^ Gude be thankit ! legs [The kirk and you may tak' you that, It puts but little in your pat ; % pot Sae di7tna put me in your bcuk do not tax-book Nor for my ten white shillings leiik.'] look This list, wi' my ain hand I wrote it. The day and date as under noted ; Then know all ye whom it concerns, Subscripsi Imic, Robert Burns. MosSGiei,, February 22, 1786. [In May, 1785, with a view to liquidate teu millions of unfunded debt, Mr. Pitt made a ' large addition to the number of taxed articles, and amongst these were female-servants. It became the duty of Mr. Aiken, as tax-surveyor for the district, to serve the usual notice on Burns, who, on receipt of it, made his return in the verses which form our text. Several passages, here marked with brackets, were omitted by Currie ; these are supplied from Stewart.] *The poet's child, then an inmate of Mossgiel, and about fifteen months old. See note, pape 6g. — J. H. t Resembles her father in every feature ; is the very inmgc of her father.— J. H. JThe Church and you (as tax-gatherer) may both take this threat (or vow) to yourselves ; it promises to put but little iu either of your pots.— J. H. 256 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786 (Mr. Aiken was one of the earliest to recognize Burns' genius, and to lead others to recognize it, even before the publication of the Kilmarnock edition. See note to "Vision," p. 243.— J. H.) TO JOHN KENNEDY, DUMFRIES HOUSE. (Cunningham's Ed., 1834.) Now, Kennedy, if foot or hor§e E'er bring you in by Mauchlin l:orse, market-cross (lyord, man, there's lasses there wad force would A hermit's fancy ; An' down the ^ale in faith they're worse, way An' mair unchancy. \ "lofedan-i •^ ' gerous J But as I'm say in, please step to Dow's, An' taste sic gear as Johnie brews, such stuff Till some bit callan bring me news boy or other That ye are there ; An' if we dinna hae a boiise^ ■ do not have a carousal r se ne'er drink mair. I'^i") more I It's no I like to sit an' swallow, Then like a swine to puke an' wallow ; But gie me just a true good fallow, give Wi' right ingine,, genius ^ ° ° \Latintngenium] And spiinkie ance to make us mellow game for once An' then we'll shine. Now if ye' re ane .'-,rr 'f wTia the bard I ' 1«rapt X i;i abova Thn' ' On my ain leg-s th r we J A. iee f- me. ■■'eable yr auld 1- or on? ^ TO A LOUSE— chekes " O wad some Power the giftie gie us To see oursels as ithers see us! " 9 \ iST. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 259 [About March, 1786, we suppose to have been the date of the above verses. The poet thought so well of this little production that he included it in the Glenriddell collection of his early poems, where he states that it was an extempore composition, "wrote in Nanse Tinnock's, Mauchline." Craigengillan is a con- siderable estate in Carrick. Mr. David Woodburn, factor for its owner, was on such friendly terms with Burns, that he received from him a copy of the celebrated cantata, "The Jolly Beggars" — the same which afterwards passed into the hands of Thomas Stewart, the publisher. (An additional portion was given to Stewart by his uncle, Mr. John Richmond, of Mauchline. See note to "Jolly Beggars."— J. H.] TO A IvOUSE. ON SEEING ONE ON A LADY'S BONNET AT CHURCH. (K11.MARNOCK Ed., 1786.) where are ye going \ Ha! whaur ye gmin^ ye QX2i^X\n ferlie ! wonder/ Your impudence protects you s air lie ; wonderfully I canna say but ye striuit rarely, cannot strut Owre gauze and lace ; over Tho' faith ! I fear, ye dine but sparely Ou sic a place. such Ye ugly, creepin, hlastet wonner^ blasted imp Detested, sliunn'd by saunt an' sinner, saint How daiir ye set your fit upon her — dare foot Sae fine a lady ? .so Gae somewhere else, and seek your dinner go On some poor bodyo Swith ! in some beggar's liaufTct squattle,* WV ither kindred, jumping cattle ; with other • off with you ! and nestle in some beggar's side-locks. 260 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. There ye may creep, an sprawl, and spy at tie scramble In shoals and nations ; Whaur horn nor bane* ne'er daiir unsettle "'^ere. . dare j Your thick plantations, colonies Now haudyou there^ ye' re out o' sight, ^^^^ ^^^''^ y°" | Below \hQ: fatfrcls snug an tight; puckers Na^ faith ye yet / ye'll no be right, no, hang you 1 Till ye've got on it — The vera tapmost, tow'rin height O' Miss's bonftet My sooth ! right bauld ye set your nose out, bold As plump an' grey as ony groset : gooseberry for some rank, mercurial rozet^ ointment Or fell^ red smeddum^ ^^^^^y ) I'd gie you sic a hearty dose o't, give such Wad dress your droddum! breech 1 wad nae been surpris'd to spy You on an auld wife's fiannen toy ; flannel cap Or aiblins some bit diiddie boy, perhaps ragged On's WylieCOat ; under-jacket But Miss's fine Lunardi!\ fye ! balloon-shaped bonnet How daur ye do't? dare O Jeany, dintia toss your head, do not An' set your beauties a' abreid ! abroad Ye little ken what cursed speed know The blastie^s makin : little imp Thae winks an' finger-ends, I dread, these Are notice takin • Small-toothed comb of bone or horn. t Vincent Lunardi, on September 15, 17S4, ascended from London in an air-bal- loon — the earliest attempt in Britain ; and on 5th October, 1785, he performed a like feat from Heriot's Green, at Edinburgh. Being a novelty and, therefore, in the fashion, a particular kind of lady's hat was named after him. — J. H. » ^r. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 261 O wad some Power tlie giftie gie us, would gifi give To see oursels as ithers see us ! ourselves others It wad frae mony a blunder free us, would from An' foolish notion : What airs in dress an' gait wad led' e us, leave An' ev'n devotion ! [The author was fond of selecting the lower animals as subjects for his muse. We have already seen how much he made of the pet-ewe, the disabled mare, the two dogs, the field-mouse ; and now he extracts a moral that can never die from the most con- temptible little animal in nature. Some even of the admirers of Burns have expressed a wish that this poem had never been written ; but the last stanza soon became a world-wide proverbial quotation ; and if poetical merit is to be estimated by such instant and universal recognition, this piece ranks high among his happiest productions. — J. H.] INSCRIBED ON A WORK OF HANNAH MORE'S, PRESENTED TO THE AUTHOR BY A I^ADY. (Cunningham's Ed., 1834.) Thou flatt'ring mark of friendship kind, Still may thy pages call to mind The dear, the beauteous, donor ; Tho' sweetly female ev'ry part, Yet such a head, and more — the heart Does both the sexes honor : She show'd her taste refin'd and just, When she selected thee ; Yet deviating, own I must, For sae approving me : But kind still I'll mind still The giver in the gift ; I'll bless her, an' wiss her A Friend aboon the lift. above sky 262 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. [The poet enclosed a copy of this inscription in a letter to Mr. Robert Aiken, dated 3d April, 1786. His plan of publishing a volume of his poems at Kilmarnock was then completed, for he says to his friend and patron, — "My proposals for publishing I am just going to send to the press." It is very remarkable that no biographer or editor of Burns has ever stated or suggested the name of the lady, " Mrs. C," who showed that mark of early attention to Burns, although he refers to it as "the second flat- tering instance of Mrs. C.'s notice and approbation." Upon no authority beyond reasonable surmise, we venture to say that the lady was Mrs. Cunninghame, of Enterkin, a daughter of Mrs. Stewart, of Stair, and a distant relative of Mr. Aiken. On 20th March, the poet had WTitten to Robert Muir, of Kil- marnock, hoping to have the pleasure of seeing him there, "before we hear the gowk" — i. e., before the cuckoo (the "harbinger of spring") is heard. That was, of course, to arrange about the printing of his poems ; and it is very likely that when he went to Kilmarnock he had his poem of the "Ordination," and per- haps a sketch of the "Holy Fair" also, in his pocket, both of those pieces being closely associated with the clerical history of that town. 3 THE HOLY FAIR.* (Knrrj,"^^P^"^""^;;;;j^^j The laverocks they were chantin larks Fu? sweet that day. fun stared wenclies walking rapidiy mantles of one with gray walked a little As lightsomely I glowr'd abroad To see a scene sae gay, Three Jiizzies^ early at the road, Cam skelpm up the way. Twa had manteeles commandmcnta rent * An upland parish to the east of Kilmarnock.— J. H. 264 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. "My name is Fun — your cronie dear, comrade The nearest friend ye hae ; An' this is Superstition here, An' that's Hypocrisy. VViV gaiin to Mauchline 'holy fair,* going To spend an hour in daffin: frolicking Gin ye' 11 go there, yon runkP d pair, ir wnnkied We will get famous laughin At them this day.'* Quoth I, "Wi' a' my heart, I'll d(J*t; I'll get my Sunday's sark on, sWrt An' meet you on the holy spot ; Faith, we'se hae fine remarkin ! " Then I gaed hame at crowdie-\!\Vi\e.^'^ went breakfast An' soon I made me ready ; For roads were clad, frae side to side, Wi' mony a wearie body, toiUng In droves that day. Here farmers gash, in ridin graith, wise and solemn % Gaed hoddin by their cotters ; went jogging past cottagers There swankies young, in braw braid-claith, f Are springing owre the gutters. over The lasses, skelpin barefit, thrang, % In silks an' scarlets glitter ; Wi' sweet-milk cheese, in 7nony a whaitg many^ _' -^ '^ great slice) An' farls^ bak'd wi' butter, oatmeai cakes Fu' crump that day. crisp When by the 'plate' we set our nose, Weel heaped up wi' ha'pence. •Tue regrular Scotch breakfast of the working classes was oat-meal porridge tnd inilk. Crowdie means any food of the porridge kind. — ^J. H. fThere young strapping fellows in fine broadcloth. — J. H. I The girls hurrying along barefooted in throngs.— j. H. JST. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 265 A greedy glowr ' black-bonnet ' * throws, stare An' we maim draw our tippence. must) ATM ■ 11 twopence j Then m we go to see the show : On ev'ry side they're gath'rin ; Some carryin dails^ some chairs an' stools, pianks An' some are busy blctJi'ri7i talking looseiy Right loud that day. Here stands a shed io fend the show'rs, wardoa An' screen our countra gentry ; f There ' Racer Jess, ' % an' twa- three wh-res, Are blinkin at the entry. Here sits a raw o' tittlhi jads^ tuterfngjades Wi' heavin breasts an' bare neck ; An' there a batch o' wabster lads, group weaver Blackguardin frae Kilmarnock, For fun this day. § Here some are thinkin on their sins, An' some upo' their clacs ; clothes Ane curses feet that fyPd his shins ^ bedaubed ankles Anither sighs an' prays : On this hand sits a chosen szvatch^ sample Wi' screw' d-up, grace-proud faces ; On that a set o' chaps^ at watch, young feiiows Thrang winkin on the lasses busy To chairs that day. * A cant name for the elder who stood at "the plate" on which the offerings were deposited at the entrance to the place of meeting.— J. H. t The communion used to be celebrated out of doors in the church-j'ard or a field near the church, and a temporary- shed was put up to give shelter from the weather to the aristocracy who attended. The whole thing was not unlike an American camp-meeting, excepting that in Scotland the communion was cele- brated, and the out-of-doors services lasted only one day. — J. H. t Kebruan,-, 1813, died at Mauchlinc, Janet Gib.son— the " Racer Jess" of Burns' ' Holy Fair," remarkable for her pedestrian feats. She was a daughter of " Poosie Nansie " who figures in "The Jolly I5eggars." — Ne7vspapcr Obituary. 2 Kilmarnock "wabsters," like their brethren of the loom elsewhere, had 3 peculiar taste for theological polemics. Political polemics was then denied them, so they gave themselves vent on religion. See opening of " Ordination." Kil" marnock people always disliked this allusion.— J. H. 266 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. O happy is that man, an' blest ! Nae wonder that it pride him ! Whase am dear lass, that he likes best, wh^se own Comes clinkiii down beside him ! claps herself Wi' ann repos'd on the chair back, He sweetly does compose him ; Which, by degrees, slips round her neck, Alt's loof yX^On her bosom, andhispalm Unkeiid that day.* as if unconscious Now a' the congregation o'er ^ Is silent expectation ; For Moodie spccls the holy door,t dimbs Wi' tidings o' damnation : % Should Hornie^ as in ancient days, satan "^ Mang sons o' God present him, among The vera sight o' IMoodie's face. To 's ain het hame had sent him own hot home WP fright that day. with Hear how he clears the points o' Faith Wi' rattlin and thumpin ! Now meekly calm, now wild in wrath. He's stampin, an' he's jumpin ! His lengthen' d chin, his tumed-up snout, His eldritch squeel an' gestures, unearthly O how they fire the heart devout, Ivike cantharidian plaisters On sic a day ! But hark ! the tent has chang'd its voice ; There's peace an' rest 7iae langer ; no * " This verse sets boldly out with a line of a psalm. It is the best description CTer was drawn. ' Unkend that day' surpasses ?i\\."— James Hogg. tRev. Alexander Moodie of Riccarton, one of the heroes of the " Twa Herds." His personal appearance and style of oratory are not here caricatured by the poet. Trans, from Culross, 1762. Died February 15, 1799. The "holy door" ia the door giving entrance to the tent whence the ministers preached-^— J. H. {Altered from ' salvation," by suggestion of Dr. Hugh Blair. ^T. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 267 For a' the real judges rise, They cauua sit for anger, caimot Smith * opens out his cauld harangues, On practice and on morals ; An'' aff the godly pour in thrangs^ and off throngs To gie the jars an' barrels jfiv. A lift that day. What signifies his barren shine, Of moral pow'rs an' reason? His English style, an' gesture fine Are «' clean out d* season. aii of I^ike 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 good Against sic poison' d nostrum ; such For Peebles, t frae the water-fit. Ascends the holy rostrum : See, up he's got the word o' God, An' meek an' tni'm has view' d it, aflfectediy demufe *i '■ Rev. George (subsequently Dr.) Smith of Galston, referred to in the " Twa Herds" and also in a different feeling, under the appellation of "Irvine Side" in the "Kirk's Alarm." Ord. 1778. Died 1S23. Burns here meant to compliment him on his rational mode of preaching and refined style, but his friends regarded the stanzas as calculated to injure him, His son, also Rev. Dr. George Smith, succeeded Dr. Guthrie in 1843 in the Old Greyfriars Church, Edinburgh. He mar- ried a daughter of George Hogarth, the musical composer, and art-critic, and grand-daughter of George Thomson, Burns' correspondent, and publisher of so many of his finest songs. Mrs. Dickens was another grand-daughter of Thomson, and sister to Mrs. Smith.— J. H. tRev. Wm. Peebles of "The Water-Fit," or Newton-upon-Ayr (where the river Ayr flows into the sea). _ Ord. 177S, made a D.D. iu 1795, and died in 1825, aged 74. 268 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. While ' Common-sense ' * has taen the road, taken An' aflf, an' up the Cowgate t Fast, fast that day. Wee Miller % m'cst, the Guard relieves, next An' Orthodoxy raiblcs, pours out confusedly Tho' in his heart he weel believes, weu An' thinks it auld wives' fables : But faith ! the birkie wants a manse, smart feiiow So, cannilie he hums them ; knowingly humbugs Altlio' his carnal wit an' sense L/ike hafiins-wise o'ercomes him half At times that day. Now butt an' be7i% the change-house fills, Wi' yill-caiip commentators ; aie-mng Here's cry in out for bakes an' gills^ biscuits whisky An' there the pint-stowp clatters ; pint-measure While thick an' tJirang^ an' loud an' lang, busily Wi' logic an' wi' scripture, They raise a din^ that in the end noUe Is like to breed a rupture O' wrath that day. Leeze vie on drink ! it p-ics us 7na{r commend me to) "=• gives more J 1 lian either school or collesre ; It keiC ICS wit, it WaukeJlS lear^ kindles awakens learning It pangs us foil o' knowledge : crams fuu *We learn from Chambers, who states it on local authority, that Mr. Macken- zie, surgeon of Mauchline, and friend of Burns, had recently written on some topic under the pseudonym^ of Common-sense. He was engaged this day to dine at Dumfries House with the Earl of Dumfries, so, after listening to some of the harangues, he left the meeting and set off along the Cowgate to keep his appoint- ment.— J. H. fA street so called which faces the tent in Mauchline.—.^. B. X Rev. Alex. Miller, afterwards of Kilmaurs, a short, paunchy man, supposed to be at heart a " moderate." " This stanza," says Chambers, " virtually the most depreciatory in the poem, is said to have retarded Miller's advancement." Ord. in Kilmaurs, 1788. Died in 1804. g Kitchen and speuce. See note to "The Vision," p. 234. ^T. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. Be't whisky-gill or penny- wheep, * Or ony stronger potion, It never fails, on drinkin deep, To /^z^tle up our notion. By night or day. 269 any tickle The lads an' lasses, blythely bent cheerily To mind baith saiil an' body, bothsoui Sit round the table, weel content, An' sieer about the toddy : stir hot scotch On this ane^ s dress, an' that ane's leuk^ one's look They're makin observations ; While some are cozie i' the Jieuky snug comer An' forming assignations To meet some day. But now the L — 's ain trumpet touts^ own sounds Till a' the hills are rairin^ roaring with echoes And echoes back-return the shouts ; Black Russell is 11a spairin : f not His piercin words, like highlan' swords, Divide the joints an' marrow ; His talk o' Hell, whare devils dwell. Our vera ^''smils does harrow "J aouu: Wi' fright that day 1 A vast, unbottom'd, boundless pit, Fill'd foil o' lozviji brunstane, Whase ragin flame, an' scorchin heat, Wad melt the hardest luhun-stane I The half-asleep start up wi' fear. An' think they hear it roarin ; full blazing whinstone * Very small ale (sometimes made from molasses) that costs two cents, or a penny a quart bottle.— J. H. tRev. John Russell, one of the "Twa Herds," and "Rumble John" of the Kirk's Alarm. Ordained in Kilmarnock 1774. Called to Stirling 1800. t Shakespeare's " Hamlet."— Ve. B. 270 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. When presently it does appear, 'Twas but some neibor snorin Asleep that day. *Twad be owre lang a tale to tell, too How mony stories past ; An' how they crouded to the yill^ aie When they were a' dismist ; How drink gaed round, in cogs ajC caupSy* went Amang the furins an' benches ; forms An' cheese an' bread, frae women's laps, Was dealt about in lunches^ ^ uberai pieces An' dawds that day. large sikes In comes a gawsie^ gash gllidwife^ portly, sagaclons matron An' sits down by the fire, Syne draws her kebbiick an' her knife ; then cheese The lasses they are shyer : The auld guidmen^ about the grace, heads of families Frae side to side they bother ; f from Till some ane by his bonnet lays, aside scotch cap An' gies them't, like a tether^ gives haiter Fu' lang that day. fuiiiong Waesucks ! for him that gets nae lass, Mas Or lasses that hae naething ! Sma' need has he to say a grace, Or nielvie his braw clai thing ! boIi with crumbs O wives, be mindfu' ance yoursel How bonie lads ye wanted ; •* An' dinna for a kebbiick-heel end of a cheese Let lasses be affronted On sic a day ! such * Vessels, generally of wood, from, which ale was drunk. They were very much, like the small wooden toy pails for children of the present day. — J. H. + It is the custom in Scotland to ask a blessing before eating in any way, and to return thanks after. It is a mark of respect to ask a person to say grace ; generally, he modestly declines and suggests another, who in turn names a third and so on. Thus they " bother about frae side to side," till one gives them it, in length "like a tether." — J. H. » ^T. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 2V1 Now ' Clinkumbell^'^ wi' rattliu iOW^ bell-ringer rope Begins to joiv an' croon ; toil sound Some swagger liame the best they dow^ are able Some wait the afternoon. At slaps the billies halt a blink,* Till lasses strip their shoon : shoes Wi' faith an' hope, an' love an' drink, They're a' in famous tune For crack that day. talk How mony hearts this day converts O' sinners and o' lasses ! Their hearts o' stane, fzVz nmht. are pfane ''^ ^^^ *'"*^ I n ^ • night comes]- As salt as ony flesh is : There's some are foii o' love divine ; fuii There's some are fou o' brandy ; An' mony jobs that day begin. May end in ' houghmagandie' »^«-eak:ng the seventh com-. •' e> & mandment ) Some ither day. other [Mr. Lockhart, after commending the "Cottar's Saturday Night," in eloquent terms, rnakes this observation, — "That the same man should have produced that poem and the ' Holy Fair ' about the same time, will ever continue to move wonder and regret." But the world's "regret" in this matter has been very evanescent; for, although the abuses and absurdities here censured, in con- nection with rural celebrations of the communion, have happily disappeared, it cannot be said that the lessons conveyed in the satire are no longer necessary. Mr. Lockhart has farther observed that had Burns " taken up the subject of this rural- communion in a solemn mood, he might have produced a piece as gravely beautiful as his ' Holy P^air ' is quaint, graphic, and picturesque. Nay," adds the critic, "I can easily .imagine a scene of family worship to have come from his hand as pregnant with the ludicrous as the 'IIolv Fair' itself" In these circumstances, we cannot be too thankful that Burns followed his own instincts in the mode of treating both subjects.] (In another strain Lockhart elsewhere .says: — That the "Holy * At gaps in the fences which offer convenience for sitting down, the young fellows halt a nionicnt till the lasses strip off their shoes. Scotch girls in Hums' days walked more easily barefooted than with shoes ; besides, there was the ques- tion of economy. — ^J. H. 272 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. Fair ' ' was the last and best of that series of satires wherein the same set of persons were lashed. "Here," says that critic, "unlike the others that have been mentioned, satire keeps its own place and is subservient to the poetry of Burns. This is indeed an extraordinary performance ; no partizan of any sect can whisper that malice has formed its principal inspiration, or that its chief attraction lies in the boldness with which individuals, entitled and accustomed to respect, are held up to ridicule. Immediately on its publication, it was acknowledged (amidst the sternest mut- terings of wrath) that national manners were once more in the hands of a National Poet." Dr. Norman Macleod, the highly-gifted and genial minister of the Barony parish, Glasgow, and editor of Good Words, seems to cast doubt on the "Holy Fair" as a picture of life and manners, even in Burns' day. He says: — "It has been the fashion indeed of some people who know nothing about Scotland or her Church to use Burns as an authority for calling such meetings ' Holy Fairs.' What they may have been in the days of the Poet, or how much he may himself have contributed to profane them I know not. But neither in Ayrshire nor anywhere else, have I ever been doomed to behold so irreverent and wicked a spectacle as he portrays." Dr. Macleod was the son of a Highland manse, and came to Ayrshire when the breath of the coming Disruption was beginning to be felt. The " Holy Fair " is a strong, but scarcely an exaggerated, picture of many a sacrament in the southwest of Scotland at which the writer has been present in his youth. The drinking commonly took place in the houses of poor people near the scene, to whom the little profit was an object. Of course they had no license. When farm servants were hired in upper Nithsdale it was common to stipulate for a holiday either on Thornhill race fair or the Brig o' Scaur sacrament ; and the Brig o' Scaur congregation were Cameronians ! Chambers tells us that in Bums' time this poem was much relished by the moderate clergy, Dr. Blair declaring it to be the most masterly satire of its kind in existence. — J. H.) The communion was administered at Mauchline in those days but once a year, namely, on the second Sunday of August ; and Chambers, considering that any portion of the year 1785 was too early a date for this composition, sets it down as being nearly the last piece produced by Bums prior to the publication of his poems in July 1786. The " Ordination " was certainly a pro- duction of February of that year, and we feel bound to regard "The Holy Fair" as a riper performance, composed somewhat farther on in the season. In the opening of the "Holy Fair," Fergusson's " Leith Races" is evidently closely followed as a model ; an imaginary being m:\ 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 273 railed " Mirth " conducts the Edinburgh poet to the scene of enjoyment, exactly as "Fun" in this poem conveys Burns to " Mauchline Holy Fair."] SONG, COMPOSED IN SPRING. Tune — "Johnny's Grey Breeks." (Edinburgh Ed., 1787.) Again rejoicing Nature sees Her robe assume its vernal hues : Her leafy locks wave in the breeze, All freshly steep' d in morning dews. Chorus. — And maiui I still on Menie doat, must And bear the scorn that's in her e^ef ey«. For it's jet, jet-black, an' it's like a hawk, An' it IviuJia let a body be.^ win not person alone In vain to me the cowslips blazif^ bioow In vain to me the vi'lets spring ; In vain to me in glen or shaw, The mavis and the liiitwhite sing, thrush unneJ And maun I still, &c. The merry ploughboy cheers his team, Wi' joy the tentie seedsman stalks ; careful But life to me's a weary dream, A dream of ane that never wanks. awakens And maun I still, &c. The wanton coot the water skims, Amang the reeds the ducklings cry, The stately swan majestic swims, And ev'ry thing is blest but I. And maun I still, &c. ♦This chorus is part of a sonp composed by a pentlcni.-in in l\diiiburph, n pan dcular friend of the author's. Mcuic is the coiniiiou abbreviation of Mariamua —R. B. More correctly, it is the abbreviate of Marion. I. R 274 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. The sheep-herd steeks his faiilding slap^ foid^Tl And o'er the moorlands whistles shill; shriu Wi' wild, unequal, wand' ring step, I meet him on the dewy hill. And maun I still, &c. And when the lark, 'tween light and dark, Blythe waiikens by the daisy's side, awakens And mounts and sings on flittering wings, A woe-worn ghaist I hameward glide. ghost And maun I still, &c. Come winter, with thine angry howl. And raging, bend the naked tree ; Thy gloom wnll soothe my cheerless soul, When nature all is sad like me ! And maun I still, &c. [The author must have had a very special reason for the retention, through all his own editions, of this chorus, apparently so inappropriate to the sentiment of the song. His main purpose was to shew that slighted love was the cause of his mourning ; and he told the truth in his foot-note about the chorus being "part of a song composed by a gentleman in Edinburgh, a par- ticular friend of the author's." This "gentleman in Edinburgh" was none other than the bard himself, who of course was his own " particular friend ; " and the substitution of the name " Menie " for Jeanie was a necessary part of the little ruse he chose here to adopt. In like manner, he poured forth about the same time his " Lament occasioned by the unfortunate issue of a friend's amour." The pride of Burns seems to have been galled to the extreme by the position assumed by Jean and her parents, at the time when the poet's acknowledgment of a private marriage with Jean was formally torn up in scorn. The chorus of this song, however jarring it may seem to the mere reader of the text, has, no such effect when sung in slowish time along with the body of the song, to the tune actually chaunted by the poet when in the act of composing it. Gray's "Elegy" was present in his thoughts, while engaged with this composition, as well as that which immediately follows ; and indeed the poet acknowledges this in his note to Kennedy which enclosed the "Mountain Daisy." The similarity between verse sixth of this song and verse second of the "Daisy," needs no pointing out.] ^•T. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 275 TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY. ON TURNING ONE DOWN WITH THE PLOUGH, IN APRIL 1 786. (KH,MARNOCK Bd., 1 786.) Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flow'r, Thou's met me in an evil hour; For I viaiin crush amang the stoure must dust Thy slender stem : To spare thee now is past my pow'r, Thou bonie gem. Alas ! it's no thy neibor sweet. The bonie lark, companion meet, Bending thee ''maiig the dewy iveet^ among wet Wi' sprcckP d breast ! speckled When upward-springing, blytJie^ to greet giad The purpling east. Catild blew the bitter-biting north coid Upon thy early, humble birth ; Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth gianooj Amid the storm, Scarce rear'd above the parent-earth Thy tender form. The flaunting flow'rs our gardens yield, . . walls) High shelf ring woods and wa) s 7nauH shield ; musti But thou, beneath the random bield shelter O' clod or stane, of Adorns the histie stibblc field, parched stubbie Unseen, alane. There, in thy scanty mantle clad, Thy snawie bosom sun-ward spread, snow^ 276 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. Thou lifts thy unassuming head In humble guise ; But now the share uptears thy bed, And low thou lies I 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 /' the dust.^ m 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 wrench' d of ev'ry 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 plough-share drives elate. Full on thy bloom, Till crush' d beneath the furrow's weight. Shall be thy doom ! * * An intelligent observer of his own courses of action and the causes leading- up to them will often trace these to the pervading tone or color of his mind at the time. Bums when plowing the grass-rigs of Mossgiel on this April morning, was carrying in his bosom the reflection that Jean Armour had renounced him, and that her father was taking steps to unchain on him the sleuthhounds of the law. His whole mental horizon was tinged with gloom, and his exquisitely sym- pathetic nature led him to see a type of his own fate in the destruction of "the meanest flower that blows." He had plowed down a thousand daisies before this, but not one of them all ever roused reflection like this, or tuned his lyre to sing so sweet and sadly sympathetic song. f ^T. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 277 [On 20th April 1786, our poet enclosed this "little gem" to his friend John Kennedy. In that MS. it is called "The Gowan," a title subsequently changed for the English appellation, as above. Regarding this poem, Bums says, "I am a good deal pleased with some of the sentiments, as they are just the native querulous feelings of a heart which (as the elegantly melting Gray says) ' melancholy has marked for her own. ' " It is curious to note that the closing couplet of each of the four concluding verses begins with the same word — "Till." Grahame, the author of "The Sabbath, and other poems," has the following fine apostrophe to the lark, in connection with the text of this and the preceding poem : — "Thou, simple bird Of all the vocal quire, dwell'st in a home The humblest, yet thy morning song ascends Nearest to heaven ;— sweet emblem of his song Who sung thee wakening by the daisy's side !" We have referred to Gray the poet as having furnished some impulse to Burns in these pieces ; and we are indebted to Dr. Car- ruthers for pointing out that the image in the closing verse of the text is derived from Dr. Young : — " stars rush, and final Ruin fiercely drives His plough-share o'er creation." — Night Lx.] (This exquisite piece, like those to "The Mouse" and "The Wounded Hare," shgw us Burns at his best morally and poetically. They disclose his profound sympathy with nature in her simplest forms, his abounding tenderness for the humblest of God's creatures, and his marvellous power to extract lessons of purest morality and wisdom from the simplest texts ; while their perfect natural ease and charm of expression confer on them a beauty almost peculiarly their own. What a commentary does this little piece furnish ou Shakespere's memorable dictum : " One touch of Nature makei the whole world kin ! " Bums' own manifold afflictions call forth his pity for "the meanest flower that grows " in its hour of mis- fortune, even for an upturned Daisy. Wordsworth's sympathies were profoundly moved by this and similar effusions, more csjie- cially as they seemed to foreshadow the bard's own destiny. Allan Cuntiingham tells us that he changed the title of this piece and his manner of spelling his name (from Burness to Burns) about the same time. — J. H.) Had Jean Annour not deserted him, would we ever have had this inimitably tender lyric? To the same cause we have to trace the mournful but charming episode with Highland Mar>', but for which the world would have wanted not only the fine songs addressed to her, but the sublime and pathetic lines dedi- cated to her memory. — J. H. 278 POEMS AND SONGS. Ii78d TO RUIN. (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) 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 stonn no more I dread ; Tho' thick' ning, and black' ning, Round my devoted head. And thou grim Pow'r by life abhorr'd, While life a pleasure can afford, Oh ! hear a wretch's pray'r ! 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 I [Here the tone of the closing stanza of the "Daisy" is taken up, and the theme expanded into a little ode. Allan Cunningham was disposed to see in this piece some reference to apprehended ^T. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 279 ruin through the failure of the poet's farming efforts at Mossgiel; but it was the scornful eye of Jean — "jet, jet-black, and like a hawk," that still haunted him; and he singles out, from the thick- flying darts of destruction around him, the one that . . . . " has cut my dearest tie, And quivers in my heart." In the autobiography, he tells us, in reference to tne occasion of the "Lament," that it nearly cost him the loss of his reason. Gilbert adds that "The 'Lament' was composed after the first distraction of his feelings had a little subsided."] THE LAMENT. OCCASIONED BY THE UNFORTUNATE ISSUE OF A FRIEND'S AMOUR. (K11.MARNOCK Ed., 1786.) " Alas ! how oft does goodness wound itself, And sweet affection prove the spring of woe !" Home. 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 ! 1 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 ! 280 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. 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 ! Encircled in her clasping arms, ^ How have the raptur'd moments flown ! How have I wisli'd for fortune's charms, For her dear sake, and her's 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? Oh ! can she bear so base a heart, So lost to honor, 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? Ye winged hours that o'er us pass'd, 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 ! ^T. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 281 The mom, 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. 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, O thou bright queen, who, o'er th' expanse Now highest reign' st, with boundless sway I 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. Oh ! scenes in strong remembrance set I 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 ! [This highly-finished poem contains passages nearly equal to any iu the Address to "Mary in heaven." The reader will observe, that 282 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. every stanza contains four lines that rhyme together, — a feat in versification which "A Dream" again exhibits in a twofold degree ^a double somersault of rhyme, in short. Dr. Currie has referred to the eighth stanza, describing a sleepless night from anguish of mind, as being of peculiarly striking excellence, nor should the finely minute touch in the third line of the second stanza " I joy- less view thy trevibling horn," be overlooked. The "trembling" could be visible only to an eye filled by a grief-begotten tear. It is scarcely necessary to say that the "Unfortunate Friend" is Burns himself Only dear-bought experience could have enabled him to depict thus truthfully the horrors of auger, shame, remorse, and disappointed love. The mere exercise of producing this and kindred pieces helped to soothe the poet's embittered feelings ; and the wholesome excitement in connection with the printing of his poems completed the cure. — J. H.] DESPONDENCY— AN ODE. (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) 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 through, 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 ! Happy ! ye sons of busy life, Who, equal to the bustling strife, No other view regard ! » - iST. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 283 Ev'n when the wished end's denied, Yet while the busy means are plied, They bring their own reward : Whilst I, a hope-abandon' d wight, Unfitted with an aim, Meet ev'ry sad returning night, And joyless mourn the same ! You, bustling and justling. Forget each grief and pain ; I, listless, yet restless, Find ev'ry prospect vain. 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. 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 ! 284 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786 He needs not, lie heeds not, Or human love or hate ; Whilst I here must cry here At perfidy ingrate ! O 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 ! \ In this poem, the same theme as that pursued through the foviT preceding pieces is exhausted in a very satisfactory manner. Apparently tired himself of stringing mournful rhymes about Jean's "perfidy ingrate," he sets himself to give his youthful compeers the benefit of his dear-bought experience in such words as these :— " Eveu when the wished-for end's denied, Yet, while the busy means is plied, These bring their own reward." With enchanting words of the tenderest wisdom, he — only twenty -seven years old — speaks of his own "enviable early days," and then, as if under the sanction of mature age, addresses his young readers thus : — " Ye tiny elves that guiltless sport, I,ike linnets in the bush ; Ye little know what ills ye court. When manhood is your wish !" &c. Meanwhile, Jean had been sent off to Paisley, to avoid seeing her poet-lover, whose heart, like that of Nature herself, abhorred a » £rt. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 285 vacuum. At this juncture he — all unobserved — consoled himself by cultivating a "reciprocal attachment" with a generous-hearted maiden resident in his neighborhood, whose name he afterwards made immortal by the strength and beauty of his musings over the memory of those stolen interviews.] TO GAVIN HAMILTON, ESQ., MAUCHLINE, RECOMMENDING A BOY. (Cromek, 1808.) Mossgaville, May j, 1786. I HOLD it, sir, my boimden duty To warn you how that ' ' Master Tootie, ' ' Alias, "Laird M'Gaun," Was here to hire yon lad away yonder ' Bout whom ye spak the tithcr day, spoke other An' wad hae ^on' i aff hari' ; viouM\\a.\c right away But lest he learn the callan tricks — boy An' faith I miickle doubt him — much Like scrapin out auld a-iimniic' s nicks,* old cows An' tellin lies about them ; As licvc then, I'd have then, wiiiinKiy Your clerkship he should sair^ serve If sae be ye may be Not fitted otherwhere. Altho' I say't, he's gleg enough, smart An' bout a house that's rude an' rough, The boy might learn to swear ; •Tootie was a nick-name of "Laird McGaun," who lived in Mauchlinc and dealt in cows. The rinj^s on a cow's horn, like the marks of a horse's teeth, show her age. It is the cnstonj of fratidiilent dealers, and even fanners, to scrape out certain of the rings or " nicks " to make her look younger than she is. Such persons are in Scotland, called " nick -scrapers." They correspond nearly to ' sncck-drawers " — see note on " Sneck-drawing," p. 191. We arc not to suppose that Mr. McGaun, though styled a "laird," had any real claim to the title. He 286 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. But then wi' you he'll be sae taught, An' get sic fair example strmight^ such straight I hae na ony fear.* have not any Ye' 11 catechise him, every quirk. An' shore him weel wi' "hell;" frighten An' gar him follow to the kirk — make Ay when ye gang yoursel.f always go If ye then, maiin be then must Frae hame this comin Friday, from Then please sir, to led' e^ sir, leave The orders wi' your lady^ My word of honor I hae gV en^ given In Paisley John's, % that night at e'en. To meet the ''warld's wormr "'"'jt^r"''} To try to get the twa to gree^ come to terms An' name the airles an' the fee^ earnest-money wages In legal mode an' form : I ken he weel a sneck 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. [This ofF-hand production explains itself. The poet was about to part with one of the boys on his farm, whose services were might own a " pendicle" of land of an acre or two in extent, but the title is quite often given, half derisively, to old men of some little prominence in a village or country community. — J. H. * Note the sly caustic humor in the emphasized you in the fourth line of the second Stanza, and compare it with the first two lines of stanza twelfth of " Holy Willie's Prayer."— J. H. t Another hit at Gavin Hamilton. He was threatened with church censures for his neglect of the ordinances as dispensed by " Daddy Auld." See "Holy Willie's Prayer," stanza 13. t John Dow's inn. John was a Paisley man.— J. H. gSee note "sneck-drawing," p. 191. • - ^T. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 287 coveted by "Master Tootie," a dishonest dealer in cows. The boy had also attracted the attention of Gavin Hamilton, and Burns, who much preferred that the boy should serve Hamilton, wrote this note to him by way of warning. In the second verse, the poet has imitated the "Madam Blaize " of Goldsmith — ' Her love was sought, I do aver, by twenty beaux and more : The king himself has followed her— when she has walked before."] VERSIFIED REPI.Y TO AN INVITATION. (Hogg and Mothe;rwe;i,i,, 1834.) Sir, Yours this moment I unseal, And faith I'm gay and hearty ! To tell the truth and shame the deil, I am as /on as Bartie : * fuu But Fborsday, sir, my promise leal, Thursday loyai Expect me o' your partie. If on a beastie I can speel, horse cUmb Or hiirl in a cartie. ride cart Yours, Robert Burns. Machwn, Monday night, 10 o'clock. [From the fact of the poet's name being spelled here with one syllable, we must conclude that it was written after 14th April 1786, when he first ado.pted the contracted form. The original MS. which has been long preserved in the Paisley Library, affords no clue to the name of the person thus addressed.] * Possibly Bartie was some peasant's misnomer for the Baltic, which may have tickled Burns and his friend. "As fu' as the Baltic" is a common Scotch phrase, and "as fu' as Bartie" may be only an ignorant man's travestie of it— J. H. 288 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786, SONG— WILL YE GO TO THE INDIES, MY MARY? Tune. — " Ewe-Eughts, Marion." (CURRIE, 1800.) Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary, And leave auld Scotia's shore? old Will ye go to the Indies, my M3ry, Across th' Atlantic's roar? sweet grows the lime and the orange, And the apple on the pine ; But a' the charms o' the Indies Can never equal thine. 1 hae sworn by the Heavens to my Mary, have I hae sworn by the Heavens to be true ; And sae may the Heavens forget me, so When I forget my vow ! 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. 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 ! [This song, addressed to the living Mary Campbell, was composed at some date apparently from the middle of March to 14th May 1 786. Whether she was then serving as a nurserj'-maid with Gavin Hamilton, in Mauchline, or in service elsewhere, it is impossible to determine. The popular belief is that Mary was feyres-woman ^T. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 289 or dairy-maid at Coilsfield House, wlien Bums set his afTections on her ; but that idea has no foundation that we are aware of, beyond a traditional conjecture, first printed in Chambers's "Scottish Songs," 1829. The tradition naturally took its rise from the fact so tenderly recorded by the poet, that his final tryst with her was in that neighborhood. Besides the song in our text, one or two others, identified with Mary Campbell as their subject, have been preserved. One of these is a Prayer for Mary's protection during the author's wanderings abroad ; and another indicates that the frowns of fortune had determined him to "cross the raging sea," in order "That Indian wealth may lustre throw Around my Highland lassie, O." The poet, in his autobiography, after referring to his distraction caused by Jean's supposed "perfidy," says — "I gave up my part of the farm to my brother, 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." On 20th March, he arranged to meet Robert Muir at Kilmarnock, to forward that object; and on 3d April, he was just "sending his proposals to the press." One would conclude that the work of arranging and preparing his poems for the printer — not to mention his indus- trious composing of fresh poems to fill the volume — was enough to occupy his head, and hands, without the introduction of the Highland Mary episode at such a time. Nevertheless, he did manage, amid all these engagements, to cultivate the "pretty long tract of reciprocal attachment " which preceded the final parting with Mary on Sunday, 14th May. Such were the strange circum- stances under which this song was composed. The inscriptions on the "Highland Mary bible," particularly noticed in connection with the song which follows, are highly suggestive of mystery and secrecy in this rash courtship and inopportune betrothal. In October 1792, the poet offered this lyric to George Thomson as a substitute or companion-song for "The Ewe-Bughts, Marion"; but that gentleman did not adopt it. It is not to be understood from the opening line of the song, that Burns asked Mary to accompany him to the West Indies ; for his words to Thomson are, "I took the {oUowiug /a rewcll of a dear girl."] 290 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. MY HIGHLAND IvASSlE,* O. (Johnson's Museum, 1788.) Nae ^*. This was I'rince William Henry, afterwards King William IV. who in his youth espoused Mrs. Jordan the actress. t German princes are of but small account as husbands for British princesses, they are just better than none.— J. II. 1 To tarrow is to linger over a dish from distaste or satiety. — J. IT. 2 The laggen is the angle between the side and bottom of a wooden dish.— J. H, I. X salted bowl full scraped 306 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. [The poet's letter to Mrs. Dunlop (April 30th, 1787,) gives us a hint of some of the difficulties he had to steer through, in his endeavors to be on good terms with patrons, and yet retain his independence. Allan Cunningham has observed that "the merits of ' The Dream ' are of a high order — the gaity as well as keen- ness of the satire, and the vehement rapidity of the verse, are not its only attractions. Even the prose introduction is sarcastic; his falling asleep over the Laureate's Ode was a likely conse- quence, for the birth-day strains of those times were something of the dullest." Few poetical couplets are oftener quoted than those in verse fourth :~- Facts are chiels that winna ding, An' dowua be disputed. The poem throughout has been long regarded as prophetic] (The closing lines, which seem to prognosticate, oi^ at least hint at, possible changes threatening the Royal Family of England similar to those which were then impending over the Bourbons, were, happily, not verified. Allan Cunningham tells us that Burns was solicited by Mrs. Dunlop and Mrs. Stewart of Stair to omit this piece from his Edinburgh edition, but in vain ; and he says he has heard the neglect shown by the Government to the Poet imputed to "The Dream."— J. H.) A DEDICATION TO GAVIN HAMII^TON, ESQ. (Kilmarnock: Ed., 1786.) Expect na, sir, in this narration, A Jleechin^ fietJt' rin Dedication, begging flattering To roose you up, an' ca' you guid^ praise good An' sprung o' great an' noble bluid^ biood Because ye' re sumam'd like His Grace — * Perhaps related to the race : Then, when I'm tir'd — and sae are ye, so Wi' mony a fulsome, sinfu' lee — lis Set up 2, face how I StOpt short, pretence tnat For fear your modesty be hurt. The Duke of Hamilton, the premier peer of Scotland. — J. H. 'SX. 28.] . ■ POEMS AND SONGS. 307 This may do — maun do, sir, wz^ them must^ ■' ' ' with/ w/ia ^ho Maun please the great-folk for a wamefou; beiiyfui For me ! sae laigh I need na bow, low For, Lord be thanket, I can plough ; And when I downa yoke a naig^ cannot nag Then, Lord be thanket, I can beg ; * Sae I shall say — an' that's nae flatt'rin — not It's just sic poet an' sic patron. such The Poet, some giiid angel help him, good Or else, I fear, some ill ane skelp him ! one spank He may do weel for a' he's done yet, weii But only — he's no just begun yet. The Patron (sir, ye maun forgie me ; I winna lie, come what will d' me), wiUnot of On ev'ry hand it will allow' d be. He's just — nae better than he shou'd be. I readily and freely grant. He downa see a poor man want ; cannot What's no his ain^ he winna tak it ; own win not What ance he says, he winna break it ; once Ought he can lend he'll no refus't. Till aft his giiidness is abus'd ; goodness And rascals whyles that do him M^ang, sometimes Ev'n that, he does na mind it /<7/Z^/ not long remember As master, landlord, husband, father. He does na fail his part in either. But then, nae thanks to him for a' that ; no Nae godly symptom ye can cd' that ; caii It's nae thing but a milder feature Of our poor, sinfu', corrupt nature : * Bums here again refers to begging as a by no means improl)ahle or very dis- tasteful, dernier resort. See Note on the equanimity with which the Scotch peas- antry contemplated this resource : " I^pistle to Davie," p. 87. 308 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. Ye' 11 get the best o' moral works, ^Mang black Gentoos, and pagan Turks, among 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 d-mn-t-n ; It's just a carnal inclination. Morality, thou deadly bane. Thy tens o' thousands thou hast slain ! Vain is his hope, whase stay an' trust is whose In moral mercy, truth, and justice^ No — stretch a point to catch a piack; penny Abuse a brother to his back ; Steal thro' the winnock frae a whore, window from But point the rake that taks the door ; enters by Be to the poor like onie wJmnstane^ anywhinstone And hand their noses to the grimstaiie ; grindstone 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^ an' lang, wry faces ; paims Grunt up a solemn, lengthen' d groan. And damn a' parties but your own ; au I'll warrant then, ye' re nae deceiver, A steady, sturdy, staunch believer. O ye wha leave the springs o' Calvin, For gunilie dubs of your ain delvin ! muddy pools Ye sons of Heresy and Error, Ye' 11 some day squeel in quaking terror. When Vengeance draws the sword in wrath, And in the fire throws the sheath : mx. 28.] ' POEMS AND SONGS. When Ruin, with his sweeping besom, Just frets till Heav'n commission gies him ; While o'er the harp pale Misery moans, And strikes the ever-deep' ning tones. Still louder shrieks, and heavier groans I 309 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. almost So, sir, you see 'twas nae daft vapor ; But I maturely thought it proper, When a' my works L did review, To dedicate them, sir, to you : Because (ye need na tak^ it ill), I thought them something like yoursel. not take Then patronize them wi' your favor, And your petitioner shall ever I had aniaist said, ever pray, almost But that's a word I need na say ; For prayin, I hae little skill o't, I'm baith dcad-sweer, an' wretched ill ^v • much averse . ' ' atit) But I'se repeat each poor man's pray'r. That kens or hears about you, sir knows " 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-honor'd name* Ivang beet his hymeneal flame, fan f ■ . •Mr. Ilaniilton's wife belonged to The Kennedys, an ancient and influential Eamily in Carrick. BIO POEMS Aira SONGS. [1786. Till Hamilton's, at least a dizzen^ dozeq Are frae their nuptial labors risen : Five bonie lasses round their table, And sev'n braw fellows, stout an' able, To serve their king an' 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^ greatgrandchild When ebbing life nae mair shall flow, no The last, sad, mournful rites bestow ! " I will not wind a lang conclusion. With complimentary effusion ; But, whilst your wishes and endeavors Are blest with Fortune's smiles and favors, 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, feUow 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 hopes in Heav'n ! While recollection's pow'r is giv'n — 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 ! » ■ ^X. 28.y POEMS AND SONGS. 311 [In all likelihood, this characteristic effusion was composed with a view to its occupying a place in front of the author's first pub- lication ; but probably its freedom of sentiment and lack of rever- ence for matters orthodox would stagger its cautious and circumspect typographer. It was accordingly slipped into the book near the close, in fellowship with "The Louse," and some subjects less dainty in character than those first presented to the reader. This "dedication" is nevertheless esteemed one of the best poems in the volume ; and none of the author's lines are more frequently on the lips of his readers than some of its pithy sentences. Indeed, the bard's correspondence testifies that he was himself fond of quoting its couplets occasionally. The gentleman to whom it is addressed was, in every respect, a man after Burns' own heart ; and this fact is very quaintly told in the passage where he explains his reason for dedicating the poems to Hamilton : — " Because — ye needna tak it ill — I thought them something like yoursel." According to Mr. Lockhart, "Hamilton's family, though pro- fessedly adhering to the Presbyterian Establishment, had always lain under a strong suspicion of Episcopalianism. Gavin's grand- father had been curate of Kirkoswald in the troublous times that preceded the Revolution, and incurred popular hatred in conse- quence of being supposed to have been instrumental in bringing a thousand of the 'Highland host' into that region in 1677." We rather suspect this was the great-grandfather of the poet's friend, named Claud, who -died in 1699, and whose son John was a writer in Edinburgh. Gavin's father was also a writer in Mauchline, inhabiting the old castellated mansion which still exists near the church. Cromck mentions that the Rev. William Auld had quarrelled with the senior Hamilton, and sought every occasion of revenging himself on the son. Be that as it may, our notes at pp. 95 and 97 sufficiently narrate the annoyances to which Gavin was subjected by the Kirk Session ; and the author's text there, and elsewhere, shews the measure of the reprisal that followed. One of the existing representatives of Mr. Hamilton is Major Wallace Adair, husband of a granddaughter of Gavin, and himself a grandson of Charlotte Hamilton, sister of the subject of the text. Cromek mentions that he had seen a copy of this poem, in which one of Hamilton's great sins, in the eyes of Daddy Auld and Holy Willie, is thus neatly introduced : He .sometimes pallops on a Sunday, An' pricks his beast as it were Monday.) 312 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. VERSIFIED NOTE to Dr. MACKENZIE, MAUCHUNE. (Hogg and Motherwei^i., 1835.) Friday first's the day appointed By the Right Worshipful anointed, To hold our grand procession ; To get a blad o' Johnie's morals, piece And taste a swatch o\ Hanson's barrels sample I' the way of our profession. ^ The Master and the Brotherhood Would a' be glad to see you ; For me I would be mair than proud To share the mercies wi' you. good things If Death, then, wi' skaith^ then, harm Some mortal heart is hechthi^ threatening Inform him, and storm him, buuy That Saturday you'll fecht him. fight Robert Burns. Mossgiely An. M. 5790. [The masonic date appended to the foregoing rhyme, signifies A. D. 1786. Our notes hitherto, (except in connection with the bacchanalian song given at page 37,) have had no occasion to refer to the poet's passion for Free-masonry. He had, in July 1784, been raised to the position of Depute Master of St. James' Lodge, Tarbolton, from which period down to May 1788, he con- tinued frequently to sign the minutes in that capacity. On 24th June 1786, being St. John's Day, a grand procession of the lodge took place by previous arrangement, and the lines forming the text shew the style in which he invited his brother-mason. Dr. Mackenzie, to be present on the occasion. The Lodge held its meetings in a back-room of the principal inn of the village kept by a person named Manson. It is not very clear who was the "Johnie" thus expected to dilate on morals: Professor Walker tells us it was John Mackenzie himself, whose favorite topic was "the origin of Morals."] aer. 28,]' POEMS AND SONGS. 313 THE FAREWELL. TO THE BRETHREN OF ST. JAMES'S LODGE, TARBOLTON. Tune. — "Goodnight, and joy be wi' you a'.^' (Kii^MARNOCK Ed., 1786.) Adieu ! a heart-warm, fond adieu ; Dear brothers of the mystic Tye ! Ye favored, ye enlighten' d few, Companions of my social joy ; Tho' I to foreign lands must hie. Pursuing Fortune's slidcfry ba\- slippery bau With melting heart, and brimful eye, I'll mind you still, tho' far awa. Oft have I met your social band. And spent the cheerful, festive night : Oft, honor' 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. 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 2)ray'r when far awa 314 POBMS AND SONGS. [X786. And YOU, farewell ! whose merits claim Justly that highest badge to wear : Heav'n bless your honor' 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. [An examination of the minute-book of the lodge shews that on 23d June 1786, the poet was present at a meeting preparatory to the grand procession referred to in the last piece. No other lodge-meeting was held till the 29th of July, ^which Burns also attended ; and as the present song formed part of the volume which was put into the hands of the public on the last day of that month, we may assume that the occasion on which the poet repeated or sang the verses to the brethren was on the 23d or 24th of June. He was then full of the intention of sailing before the close of August ; for we find him writing to a friend on 30th July:- "My hour is now come : you and I shall never meet in Britain more. I have orders, within three weeks at furthest, to repair aboard the Nancy, Captain Smith, from Clyde to Jamaica." It would appear that Captain James Montgomery (a younger brother of Col. Hugh Montgomery of Coilsfield) was, about this period. Grandmaster of St. James Lodge ; and Chambers tells us that the first four lines of the closing stanza of this song refer to him. On the other hand, a little work of some pretensions, called "A winter with Robert Burns," asserts that the reference is to William Wallace "of the Tarbolton St. David's," SheriflF of the County of Ayr — a name "to masonry and Scotia dear." A note in the "Aldine" edition tells us that this half-stanza refers to Sir John Whitefoord.] » ■ ^T. 28.] ' ' POEMS AND SONGS. 315 ON A SCOTCH BARD, GONE TO THE WEST INDIES, (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) A' ye wha live by sowps o' drink, sups A' ye wha live by crambo-dink^ versifying A' ye wha live and never think, Come, mourn wi' me \ Our billie's gien us a' a jink,* An' owre the sea ! over Lament him a' ye rantin core^ corps Wha dearly like a random-splore / occasional frolic Nae mair he'll join the merry roar, In social key ; For now he's tae7i anither shore, taken An' owre the sea ! The bonie lasses weel may wiss him, wish And in their dear petitions place him : The widows, wives, an' a' may bless him Wi' tearfii' e'e ; weiiiwot] For weel I wat they'll sairly miss him sorely.' That's owre the sea! O Fortune, . they hae room to grumble ! Hadst thou taen aff some drowsy biwimle^ blunderer Wha can do nought but fyke an' fumble, „omatter^ 'Twad been nae plea; for com- ^ ^ plaint ) But he was gleg as onie wiimble^ sharp gimiet That's owre the sea ! • Our brother has given us all the slip.— J. H. S16 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. Auld, cantie Kyle* may weepers wear,"*°J™'°Jl An' stain them wi' the saiit^ saiit tear : salt 'Twill mak her poor auld heart, I fear, In fiitiders fiee : fragments fly He was her Laureat mony a year, many That's owre the sea 5 He saw Misfortune's cauld nor- west Lang mustering up a bitter blast ; K jillet\ brak his heart at last, jm 111 may she be ! So, took a berth afore the mast. An' owre the sea. To tremble under Fortune's cummock^ rod On scarce a belly fu' O' driinunock^ meal and cold water Wi' his proud, independent stomach, Could ill agree ; So, row^ t his hurdles in a hammock, roUed posteriors An' owre the sea. He ne'er ^2^% gieii to great viisgiiidiii^ given unthnfi Yet coin his pouches wad na bide in ; pockets stay Wi' him it ne'er was under hidin ; 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 : cover snug shelter Ye' 11 find him ay a dainty chiel^ follow An' foil o' glee : fuU He wad na wrang'd the vera deil,7^^'^^g°°'^^^^} That's owre the sea. ♦See p. 203. ^Jcan Armour. iST. 28.] ' POEMS AND SONGS. 317 Fareweel, my rliyme-composing billie ! brother Your native soil was right ill-iuillie ; spiteful But may ye flourish like a lily, Now bonilie ! I'll toast you in my hindmost gillie^ gin of whisky Tho' owre the sea ! [This playful ode shines out cheerfully among the poet's more pathetic leave-takings of the period. He puts it into the mouth of an imaginary "rhyme-composing brother;" but not one of the tribe, except the bard of Kyle himself, could have produced such an original and happy strain. His own picture is painted to the life, in all his "ranting, roving Robin-hood;" and yet, amid his rollicking, he throws in a touch of the true pathetic, just to show his reader how " Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure, Thrill the deepest notes of woe." He who, only a few mouths before, had sung so despairingly in "The Lament," and kindred effusions, concerning "A faithless woman's broken vow," here reverts to the same theme in a strain of smothered bit- terness : — " He saw Misfortune's cauld nor-west I,ang mustering up a bitter blast ; A jillet brak his heart at la.st, 111 may she be \ So, took a birth afore the mast, Au' owre the sea."] SONG— FAREWELL TO ELIZA. 7««^— "Gilderoy." (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) From thee, Eliza, I must go, And from my native shore ; The cruel fates between us throw A boundless ocean's roar : 318 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. But boundless oceans, roaring widcj Between my love and me, They never, never can divide My heart and soul from thee. Farewell, farewell, Eliza dear, The maid that I adore ! A boding voice is in mine ear, We part to meet no more ! But the latest throb that leaves my heart, While Death stands victor by, — That throb, Eliza, is thy part. And thine that latest sigh ! ^ [In the Ode on a Scotch Bard, the author took a general fare- well of the " bonie lasses — widows, wives an' a'," and here he singles out one in particular, from among "the belles of Mauch- line," in whom he seems to have a more special interest. The language is almost identical with that in which he addressed Jean Armour shortly before, "Tho' cruel fate," &c. (see p. 123). That he really had some of "his random fits o' daffin " with a young woman bearing this Christian name, is evident from a few words that dropped from him after his "eclatant return" from Edinburgh to Mauchline. On nth June 1787, in a letter to his friend James Smith, then at Linlithgow, he says — "Your mother, sister, and brother; my quondam Eliza, &c., are all well." Chambers, from a variety of circumstances, came to the conclusion that this "Eliza" was the "braw Miss Betty" of the "six proper young belles," so distin- guished by the poet in his canzonette given at page 73. She was sister to Miss Helen Miller, the wife of Dr. Mackenzie, and died shortly after being married to a Mr. Templeton.] ^. 2aj ' POEMS AND SONGS. 819 A BARD'S EPITAPH. (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) Is there a whim-inspired fool, Owre fast for thought, owre hot for nile, too Owre blate to seek, owre proud to snool, ^^^^^^^\ Let him draw near ; And owre this glassy heap sing dool^ lamentations And drap a tear. Is there a bard of rustic song, Who, noteless, steals the crowds among, That weekly this arena 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, thro' the starting tc-di, Survey this grave. The poor inhabitant below Was quick, to learn and wi.4e to know, And keenly felt the frie'jdly glow, And softer flame; But thoughtless follies laid him low, And stain' d his name! Reader, attend * v/hethcr thy soul Soars fanc/'s flights beyond the pole, 320 POEMS AND SONGii. [1786^ Or darkling grubs this earthly hole. In low pursuit ; Know, prudent, cautious, self-control Is wisdom's root. [The poet's labors to feed the Kilmarnock press of John Wilson with sufficient materials to make up a volume of moderate thick- ness were drawing to a close ; and, having bade farewell to "friends and foes," he had only now to compose his own Epitaph. The Elegy on himself, given at page 128 supra, did not altogether satisfy him ; so he tasked his muse to the utmost, and produced in the text, what, with common consent, is allowed to be equally truthful, pathetic, and sublime. In some extempore verses, dashed off at this Jieriod, he speaks thus lightly of his probable death as the result of his intended expatriation : — And now I must mount on the wave, My voyage perhaps there is death in; But what of a watery grave ? The drowning a poet is naethingQ EPITAPH FOR ROBERT AIKEN, ESQ. (K11.MARNOCK Ed., 1786.) Know thou, O stranger to the fame Of this much lov'd, much honored name ! (Foi none that knew him need be told) A wanner heart death ne'er made cold. [The above is a kindly compliment to his warm friend Mr. Aiken — the "orator Bob" of the ecclesiastical courts, in their proceedings against Gavin Hamilton, and against Dr. M'Gill. To this gentleman, who was a life-long friend of the bard from the date of their first acquaintance, the "Cottar's Saturday Night" is dedicated. He survived the poet, till 24tli March 1807.] 9 * ' m. 28.] ' ' POEMS AND SONGS. 321 EPITAPH FOR GAVIN HAMILTON, ESQ. (Kilmarnock Ee., 1786.) 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 d — d ! [Here is a characteristic turn of the poet's pen in favor of his honest, but greatly maligned, friend and neighbor, Mr. Hamilton, of whom we have already had occasion to say a good deal. He survived till 8th Feb. 1S05, dying at the comparatively early age of fifty-two. A year after his death, his daughter Wilhelmina (referred to in one of the poet's letters) married the Rev. John Tod, a successor of Daddy Auld as parish minister of Mauchline. Mr. Tod died in iSzJ4, and his wife survived till 1858, leaving several descendants.] EPITAPH ON ''WEE JOHNIE." (KlI^MARNOCK Ed., 1786,) Hie Jacet wee Jofmie. Whoe'er thou art, O reader, know That Death has murder' d Johnie ; An' here his body lies fu' low ; For saul he ne'er had ony. [From the day that Eurns came before the world as an author till the day of his death, and seventy jears Ijeyoud that event, the poet's readers had a tacit understanding that these four lines had been waggishly inserted in the last sheet of his book, as a satire — not a very wicked one — on his printer. How that under- standing arose does not appear. The decent little typographer, however, (who was really a master of his own art, although, in the eyes of genius, destitute of the "divine afflatus"), was not a whit the worse of setting up in type his own "Hie jacet." He L U 322 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. prospered in the world, and died at Ayr on 6tti May 1821. By his own instructions, his body was removed to his favorite Kilmar- nock, where his true "Hie jacet" may be read in the High Church burial ground. He bequeathed, under very peculiar restrictions, a small mortification for educational purposes, to his native town, of which he was for sometime a magistrate.] THE LASS O' BALLOCHMYIvE. (CURRIE ISOO.) Tlr/w^.— " Ettrick Banks." ^ 'TwAS even— the dewy fields were green, On every blade the pearls hang ; The zephyr wanton' d ronnd the bean, And bore its fragrant sweets alang : In ev'ry glen the mavis sang, All nature list'ning seem'd the while, Except where greenwood echoes rang, Amang the braes o' Ballochmyle. 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 I'* Fair is the morn in flowery May, And sweet is night in autumn mild ; When roving thro' the garden gay, Ot wand' ring in the lonely wild : . >■. . . in I' THE LASS o' ballochmyle:^' ; • ■ '^■'c^!^^^' I «T. 28.] ^ .- POEMS AND SONGS. 323 But woman, nature's darling child ! There all her charms she does compile ; Even there her other works are foil'd By the bonie lass o' Ballochmyle. 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 bonie lass o' Ballochmyle. Then pride might climb the slipp'ry steep, Where fame and honors 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 bonie lass o' Ballochmyle. [According to the poet's own information, on a lovely evening in July 1786, before the summer's heat had browned the vernal glory of the season, and while the fragrant blossom yet lingered on the hawthorn, the muse suggested this famous lyric. His cor- recting of the press, involving many a journey to and from Kilmarnock, was then accomplished ; and while waiting, no doubt with some anxiety, for publication day, he indulged himself with one of his wonted strolls on the banks of Ayr at Ballochmyle. In these romantic retreats, while his "heart rejoiced in nature's joy," fresh animation was added to the scene by the unexpected approach of Miss Williamina Alexander, the sister of the new proprietor of that estate ; and although she only crossed his path like a vision, the above verses were the result of that incident. In a warmly-composed letter, he enclosed the song to the lady; referring with much animation to the occasion which gave it birth. That communication bears date the i8th of November 1786, when 324 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. the success of his first publication had encouraged him to drop his emigration scheme, and to resolve on a second edition to be pub- lished in Edinburgh. His professed object in addressing the lady was to obtain her consent to the printing of the song in the new edition. It would appear, however, that Miss Alexander judged it prudent not to reply to the poet's request. But a day at length arrived when she was proud to exhibit the letter and the poem together in a glass case. A few years ago, the writer of this note bad the pleasure of examining that interesting production, which now hangs on the wall of the " spence " or back-parlor of the farm of Mossgiel, the place selected about twenty years ago, by the relatives of the heroine of the song, as the fittest for its sxhibition to "all and sundries." The hand- writing is more care- ess than usual, and shews occasionally a mis-spelled word. Our woodcut of the interior of Mossgiel farm-house is from a irawing by Sir Wm. Allan, kindly lent by its possessor, W. F. Watson, Esq., Edinburgh. We have only to add that the " Bonie Lass" herself died un- married in 1843, aged 88. She must thus have been 31 years old in 1786.] ^T. 28.] ^ '* POEMS AND SONGS. 325 MOTTO PREFIXED TO THE AUTHOR'S FIRST PUBLICATION. (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) The simple Bard, unbroke by rules of art, He pours the wild effusions of the heart ; And if inspir'd, 'tis Nature's pow'rs inspire ; Her's all the melting thrill, and her's the kindling fire. [The famous Kilmarnock volume of Bums, with the above motto, (evidently his own composition), on its title-page, was ready for distribution on the same day (30th July 1786) on which he penned an excited letter to his friend Richmond in Edinburgh, from "Old Rome Forest," near Kilmarnock. The father of Jean Armour, having learned that the poet had executed a formal conveyance of his personal effects, including the copyright of his poems, and the profits to arise from their sale, in favor of his brother Gilbert, for the up-bringing of his "dear-bought Bess," obtained a legal warrant to apprehend Burns till he should find security to meet the prospective alimentary claim of his daughter Jean. The poet, through some secret channel, heard of this ; and he thus confided himself to Richmond: — "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. I write in a moment of rage, reflecting on my miserable situation — exiled, abandoned, forlorn." We have no letters of Burns dated from home during the following month of August, which seems to have been spent in secret journeys from one locality to another, gather- ing the fruits of his recent publication.] SALE OF THE KILMARNOCK EDITION. The original of the account of John Wilson of Kil- marnock for the printing of Burns' s Poems, with a list of subscribers, or rather of persons to whom Wilson gave out copies on account of the author, is in posses- sion of Robert Cole, Esq., of 52 Upper Norton Place, London. Wilson's account is as follows : — Mr. Robert Burns, To John Wilson, Dr. £ s. d. Aug. 28, 1786. — Printing 15 sheets at 195 14 5 o 19 Reams 13 quires paper at 17^. . 16 4 o Carriage of the paper ...... o 8 9 Stitching 612 copies in blue papfer at x%d. 493 « , 35 17 o Aug. 19. — By cash 6 3 o " 28.— " " 14 13 o By 70 copies 10 10 o 31 6 o 4 II o By 9 copies i 7 o 340 Oct. 6th. — By cash in full 3 4 o Settled the above account. Kilmarnock. John Wii^on. It appears that Mr. Wilson had here, by an error in his arithmetic, undercharged the poet ten shillings — the second item in the account being properly ;^i6, 145-., instead of ^16, 4^. Six hundred copies, at 35'. each, would produce ^90 ; and if there were no more to be deducted from that sum than the expenses of paper, print, and stitching, there would remain upwards of £^/\ as profit. The poet, however, speaks of realising only £20 by the speculation. 326 * NOTE BY EDITORS. The poetry in the preceding- pages comprises all that appeared in the Kilmarnock edition of Burns' Works, as well as many pieces written anterior to the date of the publication of that volume (August, 1786) but not appearing therein. Several of these were in- serted by the poet himself in the subsequent Edin- burgh editions ; others were recovered after his death by Dr. Currie, Cromek, and subsequent editors, from the Common-place books in which Burns had entered them in holograph, or from friends to whom he had given copies of them. A considerable number of the songs here appearing, though all composed within this period, were printed for the first time in Johnson's Museum, the first volume of which was not issued till 1788. It will be understood then that all the poetical pieces known to have been composed before Aug. 1786 appear in this volume, but none of later date. We now proceed to give the chronologically corres- ponding prose matter, premising merely that the his- torical portion carries us back to a date considerably anterior to the poet's birth, while the Autobiography was not written till August 1787. With this last ex- ception (accounted for hereafter), all the poet's prose compositions (consisting entirely of letters) in this vol- ume are of date not later than the appearance of the Kilmarnock Edition. 327 PROSE WORKS. LIFE AND LETTERS OF ROBERT BURNS. THE POET'S AUTOBIOGRAPHY. INTRODrCTORY. No one can read with full intcllic^cncc the produc- tions of a writer of such intense individuality, and so sensitively susceptible of impressions, as Purns, who has not some acquaintance with the man himself, as well as with his life-history. His works are really a reflex not only of his mental constitution and the occa- sions that called them forth, but also of the conditions under which each of them was produced. Man is lari^ely the creature of his surroundings and to know him thorouj^hly we must know not only the native character of his mind — his mental idiosyncracy, as it is called — but also the circumstances amid which he was cradled and j^ew up, and note to what extent these operated to mould his character and affect his modes of thouij^ht. All this no one can enable us to see so clearly of the Bard of Scotland as Robert Burns himself Xo person of culture and refinement, moving in the higher walks of social life, can realize how a poor, half-educated peasant judges and feels — from what point of view he looks at matters, by what motives he is actuated, and what calls forth his admiration, indig- 328 fl * MAP OF TIIK . AT THe CL0S6 OF LflSTCeflTURY. SPECIALLY Of SIGNED TO ACCOMPANY THE COMPLETE. ED IT ION OF BURNS. lllllllll I I I I f I izEi British Mi Its. .' '' INTRODUCTORY. 329 nation or scorn — unless he get that peasant to speak out openly and frankly for himself. It is under this conviction that we introduce thus early in this edition of the works of Burns, his Auto- biography as communicated by him in a letter to Dr. Moore, written in the summer recess of 1787, betwixt the poet's first and second sojourn in the Scottish capi- tal, thus giving the important document chronological precedence over some of his earlier writings. It would be manifestly unjust to subject a communication not designed for the public to the tests of rigid criticism. We are not to look in it for either studied elegance of expression or complete correctness of composition. But, on the other hand, it displays to us, all the more truthfully, the man himself, portrayed with all his native vigor and all his frank open-hearted sincerity. In this letter, written in the confidence of private friendship, he seems to have forgotten his own maxim : " But aye keep something to yoursel' ye scarcely tell to ony "^ The original manuscript of the autobiography — that, namely, forwarded to Dr. Moore — is now preserved in the British Museum.* The author had retained a verbatim copy, perusal of which he granted to the Duchess of Athole, to ' ' Clarinda ' ' and others. This, in passing through so many hands, got into a tattered condition, and the poet caused it to be transcribed by an amanuensis into one of two MS. volumes of his then unpublished writings collected for and presented to his friend and' neighbor, Robert Riddell of Glen- riddell. That copy was revised and corrected by Burns him- self, and is now preserved in the Library of the Athenaeum Club, Liverpool. A verbatim transcript of *Bib. Eg. 1660.— Purchased at Mr. P. Cunningham's sale (Sotheby's), Feb. 26, 1855, lot 145. 330 INTRODUCTORY. it has been compared with the original in the British Museum and found to correspond exactly. In the fol- lowing text a complete and accurate reproduction of this important document is placed before the reader, and Dr. Currie's divergences from the original, as well as his omissions, will be apparent to any one who closely compares the version appearing in his edition with this now submitted. By aid of the valuable "Notes on his Name and Family" privately printed by the late Dr. James Burnes, Physician General of the Bombay Army, and a descendant from the same ancestral stock as the poet, we record some genealogical detaiis which con- tribute to throw light on the poet's family allusions as well as to account for the strong Jacobitical bias which shows itself occasionally in his earlier productions. The family surname was originally pronounced in two syllables, and was, in accordance with the irregu- larity which then prevailed in the spelling of proper names, sometimes written Burnes and sometimes Bur- ness. * The immediate, as well as the more remote ancestors of Bums were yeomen or small farmers in the Mearns, with cherished family traditions of which they were justly proud, and traces of them are still to be found in Kincardineshire records reaching up to a period two hundred years prior to the era of the Ayr- shire bard. From Dr. Burnes' researches into these records we glean the following fa6ts regarding the poet's more immediate ancestors. * In earlier Scotch every vowel was sounded as a separate syllable, as is still the case in German, so that the name was pronounced in the same way whether written with a single j or with two. Most of the members of the family who retain the old pronunciation now spell it with the double s, though some, as the writer of the "Notes" above referred to, and the late Sir Alexander Burnes, the distinguished Eastern traveller, continued to follow what was probably the origi- nal spelling. As the poet, however, up to the time he changed the spelling of his name to Bums, uniformly -wrote it Burness, we deem it only respectful to him to follow^ his own mode of spelling his own name, and to apply it to other members of the family who have not put themselves on recaatd. as spelling ifc Bumes. — J. H. INTRODUCTORY. 331 The parents of oiir poet's paternal grandfather and namesake, Robert Burness, were James Burness, tenant of Bralinmuir, in the parish of Glenbervie, who died in 1743, aged 87, and Margaret Falconer, who died in 1749, aged 90. Robert, their second son,* was mar- ried to Isabella Keith, of the family of Keith of Craig, and rented the farm of Clochnahill, in the parish of Dunotter. Of him is recorded the honorable fact that, in conjunction with some of his neighbors, he built a school -house on his farm — the first erected in the dis- trict — and shared in the expense of hiring a teacher to instruct the rising generation around. Robert Burness at Ci^ochnahiIvI., and Isabei,i,a Keith, his Spouse, had issue as follows: — 1. James, borniyi?. I ^^"^""^ ^ merchant and Town | j^j^^ -^ ^^^^^ (■ Councillor in Montrose . -* 2. Robert, " 1719. {^^""^ ^""'^ ^ gardener in| .. ^^gg. t England ) 3. William, " 1721. Father oe the Poet ... " 1784. , ,, , ,4 ^„^ (Married Andrew Walker, atl 4. Margaret. 1723. | ^^^^^^ ' | 5. Elspet, " 1725. {^ll^f J''^'' ^'''"^' '"^ ^^""'l , T <« ,— f Married John Burness, and! 6. Jean, 1727. \ ...... ^ . ' Y *. died without issue . . . . * 7. George, " 1729. Died in early life 8. Isabel, " J73„ /Married William Brand, a> C dyer m Auchenblae . . . f 9. Mary, " 1732. Died unmarried The second and third sons of this family, Robert and William, were driven, through some misfortunes that overtook the household of Clochnahill, apparently in 1748,1 to travel southward in quest of employment. * This Robert Burness was, about a.d. 1700, one of five brothers of substantial position in the Mearns, who could shew silver utensils at their tables, with other indications of wealth unusual in that county. — Dr. Burnes's Notes, 1851. t A certificate (now possessed by Mr. Gilbert Burns. Dublin), dated 9th May 1748, granted to William Burness by three landowners in Kincardineshire, testi- fying that the bearer " is the son of an honest Farmer in this neighborhood, and is a very well inclined lad himself;" and recommending him to any Nobleman 332 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. Robert made his way into England, and William found work in Edinburgh and its vicinity for about two years. The latter particularly mentioned in after days to his children, that he had been employed at the laying out of the Meadows on the south side of the city ; and that work was executed chiefly in 1749. In 1750, he accepted a two years' engagement as gar- dener to the Laird of Fairly in the parish of Dun- donald, Ayrshire, from which he removed in 1752 to the banks of the Doon, where he served for sometime as gardener to Mr. Crawford of Doonside. Desiring to settle in life, he took a perpetual lease, of seven acres of ground in the parish of Alloway, fropi Dr. Camp- bell of Ayr, with the view of commencing on his own account as a nurseryman and market-gardener. On this land, close by the roadside leading southward to the ruins of Alloway Kirk, he built with his own hands a cot-house of two apartments, to which, in December 1757, he brought home from Maybole as his bride, Agnes Brown, the mother of our author, who shall now himself take up the narrative at the point where we stop. J. H. TO DR. MOORE.* Sir, — For some time past I have been rambling over the country, partly on account of some little business I have to settle in various places ; but of late I have been confined with some lingering complaints, origi- or pfentleman as a fit servant according to his capabilities, affords strong pre- sumptive evidence that William Bumess had not left his paternal roof prior to that date. * Dr. Moore was a medical man of good standing in London, and author of several works of repute, some professional, others narratives of travels, works of fiction, &c., of which his novel of Zeluco is best known. (See Bums' letter to Dr. Moore, 14th July, 1790, and to Mrs. Dunlop, January 12, 1794). He was a warm- hearted Scotchman (a native of Stirling) and was made acquainted with Bums by Mrs. Dunlop, while he, in turn brought the bard under the notice of the ;^rl of Eglinton.— J. H. , ' AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 333 nating, 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 a small noise in the country ; you have done me the honor 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 at the expence of frequently being laugh' d at ; for I assure you, Sir, I have, like Solomon, whose character, except 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. In the very polite letter Miss Williams did me the honor to write me,* she tells me you have got a complaint in your eyes. I pray God it may be removed ; for, considering that lady and you are my common friends, you will probably employ her Lo read this letter ; and then good-night to that esteem with which she was pleased to honor the Scotch bard ! 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 very twitching qualms of conscience, that, perhaps, 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 pretense to what the pyecoated guardians of Escutcheons call a Gentleman. When at Edinburgh last winter, I got acquainted at the Herald's Office ; and, looking thro' the granary of honors, I there found almost every name in the king- dom; but for me — "My ancient but ignoble blood, Has crept thro' scoundrels since the flood." * This lady, Helen Maria Williams, an authoress of some note in her day, will be hereafter referred to. 334 AUTOBIOGRArHY. Gules, purpure, argent, etc., quite disowned me. My forefathers rented land of the famous, noble Keiths of Marischal, and had the honor to share their fate.* I do not use the word "honor" with any reference to political principles : loyal and disloyal I take to be merely relative terms in that ancient and formidable court known in this country by the name of "club' law." Those who dare welcome Ruin and shake hands with Infamy, for what they believe sincerely to be the cause of their God or their King, are — as Mark An- tony in Shakespcar S3iys of Brutus and Cassius — "hon- orable men." I mention this circumstance because it threw my Father 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 pretensions to Wisdom. I have met with few who understood Men, their manners and their ways, equal to him ; but stub- born, ungainly Integrity, and headlong, ungovernable Irascibility, are disqualifying circumstances ; conse- quently, I was bom 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 neighborhood of Ayr.f Had my Father continued in that situation, I must have marched off to have been one of the little underlings about a fann- house ; but it was his dearest wish and prayer to have it in his power to keep his children under his •The famous Marshal Keith, whose statue adorns the city of Berlin, was of this family, and was attainted along with his elder brother George, for partici- pating in the rising of 1715. The family is now represented by the Earl of Kin- tore. In reference to this Gilbert Bums says : " I do not know how my brother could be misled in the account he has given of the Jacobitism of his ancestors. I believe the Earl Marischal forfeited his estate in 1715, before my father was bom, and among a bundle of parish certificates in his possession, I have found one, stating that the bearer had no concern in the late wicked rebellion. " The state- ments of the two brothers are quite reconcileable. Robert does not say it was his father who shared the fate of the Earl Marischal, but his fore-fathets.—^. H. t William Fergusson, Esq. of Doonholm, then Provost of Ayr. jex. 28.] * AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 335 own eye, till they could discern between good and evil ; so, with the assistance of his generous Master, he ventured on a small farm in that gentleman's estate.* At these years, I was by no means a favor- ite with anybody. I was a good deal noted for a re- tentive memory, a stubborn, sturdy something in my disposition, and an enthusiastic idiot-piety. I say ' ' idiot-piety, ' ' because I was then but a child. Though I cost the schoolmaster some thrashings, I made an excellent English scholar ; and against the years of ten or eleven, I was absolutely a critic in substan- tives, verbs, and particles. In my infant and boyish days, too, I owed much to an old maid of my moth- er's, t remarkable for her ignorance, credulity, and superstition. She had, I suppose, the largest collec- tion in the country, of tales and songs concerning devils, ghosts, fairies, brownies, witches, warlocks, spunkies, kelpies, elf-candles, dead-lights, wraiths, ap- paritions, cantraips, enchanted towers, giants, dragons and other trumpery. This cultivated the latent seeds of Poesy ; but had so strong an effect on my imagina- tion, that to this hour, in my nocturnal rambles, I sometimes keep a sharp look-out in suspicious places ; and though nobody can be more sceptical in these matters than I yet it often takes an effort of philoso- phy to shake off these idle terrors. The earliest thing of 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 ears, — " For though in dreadful whirls we hung High on the broken wave ; " ♦Mount Oliphant, some two miles from the poet's birthplace. tThe " maid" was an old woman named Betty Davidson, widow of a cousin of his mother's, who was maintained in the family and repaid their kindness by doing all the good offices in her power.— J. H. 336 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. I met with these pieces in Mason's English Collection, one of my school-books. The first two books I evei read in private, and which gave me more pleasure than any two books I ever read again, were "The Life of Hannibal," and "The History of Sir Wil- liam Wallace." * Hannibal gave my young ideas such a turn, that I used to strut in raptures up and down after the recruiting dnim and bag-pipe, and wish my- self tall enough that I might be a soldier ; while the story of Wallace poured a Scottish prejudice in my veins, which will boil along there till the flood-gates of life shut in eternal rest. Polemical Divinity about this time ^vas putting the country half-mad, and I, ambitious of shining on Sundays, between sennons, in conversation parties, at funerals, &c. , in a few years more, used 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 liour.f My vicinity to Ayr was of great advantage to me. My social disposition, when not checked by some modification of spited pride, t like our Catechism's definition of Infinitude was "without bounds or limits." I fonned many connexions with other younkers who possessed superior advantages ; the youngling actors who were busy with the rehearsal of parts, in which they were shortly to appear on that stage where, alas ! I was destined to drudge behind the scenes. It is not commonly at these green years that the young Noblesse and Gentr>' have a just sense of the immense distance between them and their * Borrowed respectively from Mr. Murdoch, his early teacher and the black* smith who shod his father's horses. — J. H. tSee Twa Herds, Ordination, Epistles to Gavin Hamilton, &c., &c. — J. 'H. t The Ms. reads "spited pride," and so it reads in Currie's first and second editions. The epithet is changed to "spirited" in the third edition, which expres- sion has been retained in all previous reprints of the letter save Peterson's. "Spited pride "is a common Ayrshire expression for "hurt pride," and we re* store it accordingly.— J. H. AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 337 ragged play-fellows. It takes a few dashes into the world, to give the young Great Man that proper, de- cent, unnoticing disregard for the poor, insignificant, stupid devils, the mechanics and peasantry around him, who perhaps were 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 obser- vations, and one, whose heart I am sure not even the "Munny Begum's" scenes have tainted, helped me to a little French. Parting with these my young friends and benefactors, as they dropped off for 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 bar- gain ; and to clench the curse, we fell into the hands of a Factor, who sat for the picture I have drawn of one in my tale of Two Dogs. My Father was ad- vanced in life when he married ; * I was the eldest of seven children, and he, worn out by early hardship, was unfit for labor. My Father' s spirit was soon irri- tated, but not easily broken. There was a freedom in his lease in two years more, and to weather these, we retrenched expenses. We lived very poorly : I was a dexterous ploughman for my years, and the next eldest to me was a brother, who could drive the plough very well, and help me to thrash. 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 threatening, insolent epistles from the Scoundrel Tyrant, which used to set us all in tears. This kind of life — the cheerless gloom of a hermit, * He was 36 years of age. — ^J. H. V 338 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. with the unceasing toil 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 a woman to- gether as partners in the labors of harvest. In my fifteenth * autumn, my partner was a bewitching creature who just counted an autumn less. My scarcity of English denies me the power of doing her justice in that language, but you know the Scotch idiom : she was a " bonie, sweet, sonsie lass, "f In short, she, altogether unwittingly to herself, initiated me into a certain delicious passion, which, in spite of acid disappointment, gin-horse prudence, and book- worm philosophy, I hold to be the first of human joys, our chiefest pleasure here below. How she caught the contagion I can't say ; you medical folks talk much of infection by breathing the same air, the touch, etc. ; but I never expressly told her that I loved her. Indeed, I did not well know myself why I liked so much to loiter behind with her, when returning in the evening from our labors ; why the tones of her voice made my heart-strings thrill like an ^olian harp ; and particularly why my pulse beat such a furious rantann, when I looked and fingered over her hand to pick out the nettle-stings and thistles. Among her other love-inspiring qualifications, she sung sweetly ; and 'twas her favorite Scotch reel that I attempted to give an embodied vehicle to in rhyme. I was not so presumptive 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 * Gilbert Bums, in this and other episodes of the Mount Oliphant and early Lochlea periods, advances the poet's age two years. — J. H. t Nelly Kirkpatrick by name, and according to Mrs. Begg, daughter of the blacksmith ■who lent him one of the two first books he ever read — " The Ivife ol Wallace," She is the subject of his first song : " My Handsome Nell." — J. H. ' ' AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 339 in love ; and I saw no reason why I might not rhyme as well as he ; for, excepting smearing sheep, and cast- ing peats (his father living in the moors), he had no more scholar-craft than I had. Thus with me began love and poesy ; which at times have been my only, and till within this last twelve months, have been my highest enjoyment. My Father struggled on till he reached a freedom * in his lease, when he entered on a larger farm, about ten miles farther in the country, f The nature of the bargain was such as to throw a little ready money in his hand at the commencement, otherwise the affair would have been impracticable. For four years we lived comfortably here ; but a lawsuit between him and his landlord commencing, after three years' toss- ing and whirling in the vortex of litigation, my Fathei was just saved from absorption in a jail, by a phthisi- cal consumption, which, after two years' promises, kindly stept in, and snatched him away to "where the wicked cease from troubling, and where the weary are at rest." It is during this climacteric that my little story k most eventful. I was, at the beginning of this period, perhaps the most ungainly, awkward being in the parish. No solitaire was less acquainted with the ways of the world. My knowledge of ancient story was gathered from Guthrie's and Salmon's Geographical Grammar ; my knowledge of modern manners, and of literature and criticism, I got from the Spectator. These, with Pope's Works, some Plays of Shakspear, Tull and Dickson on Agriculture, The Pantheon, l/ocke's Essay on the Human Understanding, Stack- house's History of the Bible, Justice's British Gardener, Boyle Lectures, Allan Ramsay's Works, Doctor Tay- ♦Often called "a break"— :'. ^., a period at which he had the option of re- nouncing- the lease. — J. H. t lyOchlea near Tarbolton. — J. H. 340 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. lor's Scripture Doctrine of Orig^inal Sin, A Select Collection of English Songs,* and Hervey's Medita- tions, had been the extent of my reading. The col- lection of songs was my vade mecum. I pored over them, driving my cart, or walking to labor, song by song, verse by verse ; carefully noting the tender or sublime from affectation and fustian. I am convinced I owe much to this for my critic-craft, such as it is. In my seventeenth year, to give my manners a brush, I went to a country dancing-school, f My Father had an unaccountable antipathy against these meetings, and my going was, what to this hour I repent, in absolute defiance of his commands. My Father, as I said before, was the sport of strong passions ; from that instance of rebellion he took a kind of dislike to me, which, I believe, was one cause of that dissipation which marked my future years. % I say dissipation, comparative with the strictness and sobriety of Pres- byterian countr>' life ; for though the \Vill-0'-Wisp meteors of thoughtless whim were almost the sole lights of my path, yet, early ingrained piety and vir- tue never failed to point me out the line of innocence. The great misfortune of my life was never to have an aim. I had felt early some stirrings of ambition, but ♦This select collection of Songs was published by Gordon of Edinburgh 1765, and entitled "The Lark." It consists of 324 pages and comprises some fine old songs and ballads, but a good deal of inferior stuff as well. It was from this source that the poet seems to have picked up such names as Chloris and Chloe, these being the fashion of the time. — J. H. t According to most at Tarbolton, but if this is so, the poet must have been in his nineteenth year. — J. H. X Burns here much exaggerates his father's aversion to him, and he was in no sense a " dissipated " man till after the date of this letter. But the very exaggera- tion proves with what avidity the poet's sensitive heart craved for a father's love. Gilbert Bums says : I wonder how Robert could attribute that lasting resentment of his going to a dancing-school against his will, of which he was incapable. I believe the truth was that he, about this time began to see the dangerous im- petuosity of my brother's passions, as well as his not being amenable to coun.sel, which often irritated my father ; and which he would naturally think a dancing- school was not likely to correct. But he was proud of Robert's genius, and he was greatly delighted with his warmth of heart and his conversational powers.-" J. H. AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 341 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 labor. The only two doors by which I could enter the fields of fortune were — the most niggardly economy, or the little chicaning art of bargain-making. The first is so contracted an aper- ture, I never could squeeze myself into it : the last— I always hated the contamination of its threshold ! Thus abandoned of view or aim in life, with a strong appetite for sociability (as well from native hilarity as from a pride of observation and remark), and a con- stitutional hypochondriac taint which made me fly soli- tude : add to all these incentives to social life — my reputation for bookish knowledge, a certain wild logi- cal talent, and a strength of thought, something like the rudiments of good sense, made me generally a welcome guest. So 'tis no great wonder that always, "where two or three were met together, there was I in the midst of them." But far beyond all the other impulses of my heart, was un penchant a V adorable moitic du genre hnmain. My heart was completely tinder, and was eternally lighted up by some Goddess or other ; and; like every warfare in this world, I was sometimes crowned with success, and sometimes mor- tified with defeat. At the plough, scythe, or reaphook, I feared no competitor, and set want at defiance ; and as I never cared farther for any labors than while I was in actual exercise, I spent the evening in the way after my own heart. A country lad seldom carries on an amour without an assisting confidant. I possessed a curiosity, zeal, and intrepid dexterity in these mat- ters which recommended me as a proper second in duels of that kind ; and I dare say, I felt as much pleasure at being in the secret of half the amours in the parish, as ever did Premier at knowing the in- trigues of half the courts of Europe. The very goose-feather in my hand seems instinct- 342 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. jvely to know tlie well-worn path of my imagination, the favorite theme of my song ; and is with diffi- culty restrained from giving you a couple of paragraphs on the amours of my compeers, the humble inmates of the fann-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 labor 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 part of their enjoyments. Another circumstance in my life which made very considerable alterations on my mind and manners was — I spent my seventeenth summer * a good distance from home, at a noted school on a smuggling coast, to learn mensuration, surveying, dialling, etc. in which I made a pretty good progress, f But I made a greater progress in the knowledge of mankind. The contra- band trade was at this time very successful : scenes of swaggering riot and roaring dissipation were as yet new to me, and I was no enemy to social life. Here, though I learnt to look unconcernedly on a large tav- ern-bill, and mix without fear in a drunken squabble, yet I went on with a high hand in my geometry, till the sun entered Virgo, X a month which is always a carnival in my bosom : a Charming Fillette^ who lived next door to the school, overset my trigonometr>', and sent me off in a tangent from the spheres of my stud- ies. I struggled on with my sines and co-sines for a few days more ; but stepping out to the garden one ♦This is "nineteenth summer" in Ctirrie's edition ; he has noted that the al- teration was suggested by Gilbert Bums. t The School was at Kirkoswald. He lived with Samuel Brown, a brother of his toother's, who owned a cottage in a sweet locality by the roadside about a mile from the village. It was here he became acquainted with the original charact- ers subsequently immortalized in "Tarn O' Shanter." — J. H. X Sun enters Virgo on 23d August. The charming Fillette was Peggy Thomson, the subject of the beautiful "Song composed in August." — ^J. H. .- '' AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 343 charming noon to take the sun's altitude, I met with my angel — "Like Proserpine gathering flowers, Herself a fairer flower ."* It was in vain to think of doing any more good at school. The remaining week I staid I did nothing but craze the faculties of my soul about her, or steal out to meet with her ; and the two last nights of my stay in the country, had sleep been a mortal sin, I was innocent. I returned homef very considerably improved. My reading was enlarged with the very important addition of Thomson's and Shenstone's Works : I had seen mankind in a new phasis ; and I engaged several of my schoolfellows to keep up a literary correspondence with me. 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 correspond- ents flattered my vanity. I carried this whim so far, that though I had not three-farthings' worth of busi- ness in the world, yet every post brought me as many letters as if I had been a broad plodding son of day- book and ledger. My life flowed on much in the same tenor till my twenty-third year. Vive V amour ^ et vive la bagatelle^ were my sole principles of action. The addition of two more authors to my library gave me great pleas- ure ; Sterne and "Mackenzie — "Tristram Shandy" and the "Man of Feeling" — were my bosom favorites. Poesy was still a darling walk for my mind, but 'twas only the humor of the hour. I had usually half a ♦"Paradise Lost," b. iv., 1. 268. The poet must have quoted from memory. Like does not belong to Miltou and should not have been included in the quota- tion.— J. H. fTo Lochlea probably.— J. H. 344 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. dozen or more pieces on hand ; I took up one or other as it suited the momentary tone of the mind, and dis- missed it as it bordered on fatigue. My passions, when once they were lighted up, raged like so many devils till they got vent in rhyme ; and then 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 and dying words of poor Mailie," "John Barleycorn," and Songs first, and 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 sera. Partly through whim, and partly that I wished to set about doing something in life, I joined with a flax- dresser in a neighboring country town,* to learn his trade, and carry on the business of manufacturing and retailing flax. This turned out a sadly unlucky aflair. My partner was a scoundrel of the first water, who made money by the mystery of Thieving, and to finish the whole, while we were giving a welcome carousal to the New Year, our shop, by the drunken careless- ness of my partner's wife, took fire and burned to ashes, and I was left, like a true poet, not worth six- pence. I was obliged to give up business ; the clouds of misfortune were gathering thick round my Father's head ; the darkest of which was — he was visibly far gone in a consumption. To crown all, a belle Jille-\ whom I adored, and who had pledged her soul to meet me in the fields of matrimony, jilted me, with peculiar circumstances of mortification. The finishing evil that brought up the rear of this infernal file, was my hypochondriac complaint being irritated to such a de- gree, that for three months I was in a diseased state of body and mind, scarcely to be envied by the hope- »— — . — — ~~ . — — — ' ♦ Irvine, then the emporium of the flax-dressing trade. — J. H. t Ellison Begbie, to whom he addressed the song, " On Cessnock Banks." — ^J. H. , ' AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 345 less wretches who have just got their sentence, ' ' De- part from me, ye cursed ! etc." From this adventure I learned something of a Town life ; but the principal thing which gave my mind a turn was — I formed a bosom friendship with a young fellow, the first * created being I had ever seen, but a hapless son of misfortune. He was the son of a plain mechanic ; but a great man in the neighborhood taking him under his patronage, gave him a genteel education, with a view to bettering his situation in life. The patron dying, and leaving my friend unpro- vided for, just as he was ready to launch forth into the world, the poor fellow, in despair, went to sea ; where, after a variety of good and bad fortune, he was, a little before I was acquainted with him, set a-shore by an American privateer, on the wild coast of Connaught, stript of everything. I cannot quit this poor fellow's story without adding, that he is at this moment Captain of a large West-Indiaman belonging to the Thames. This gentleman's mind was fraught with courage, independence, and magnanimity, and every noble, manly virtue. I loved him ; I admired him to a degree of enthusiasm, and I strove to imitate him. I in some measure succeeded ; I had the 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 when Woman was the presiding star ; but he spoke of a certain fashion- able failing with levity, 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 enclosed "Welcome." f * So in the MS. meaning- most excellent, a favorite form of expression with Burns. This was Mr. Richard Brown, who afterwards became one of the poet's correspondents. t Burns' sojourn in Irvine did him harm morally as well as financially, the consequence of which was that immediately ou his return to Lochlea he fell 346 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. My reading was only increased by two stray vol- umes of Pamela, and one of Ferdinand Count Fathom, which gave me some idea of novels. Rhyme, except some religious pieces which are in print, I had given up ; but meeting with Fergusson's Scotch Poems, I strung anew my wildly-sounding, rustic lyre with em- ulating vigor.* When my Father died, his all went among the rapacious hell-hounds that growl in the kennel of justice ; but we made a shift to scrape a little money in the family amongst us, with which, (to keep us together) my brother and I took a neigh- boring farm. My brother wanted m)^ hare-brained imagination, as well as my social and amorous mad- ness ; but in good sense, and every sober qualification, he was far my superior, f I entered on this farm with a full resolution "Come, go to, I will be wise !" I read fanning books, I cal^ culated crops ; I attended markets ; and in short, in spite of the devil, the world, and the flesh, I believe I should have been a wise man ; but the first year, from unfortunately buying in bad seed ; the second, from a late harvest, we lost half of both our crops. This overset all my wisdom, snd 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 into his first "mistake." The "Welcome" he refers to is his "Welcome" to his illegitimate daughter, his "dear-bought Bess." See p. 69. — J. H. * Burns .studied Kergusson with absolute veneration, never dreaming that the scholar was infinitely greater than the master. In Fergusson's works it is easy to recognize the models of versification which he followed, and occasionally we discover pieces he imitated. Burns' favorite stanza — that namely he adopted in pieces of such various character as " Holy Willie's Prayer," " Death and Dying Words of Poor Mailie," "Verses to a Mouse " and "To a Mountain Daisy" — is very ancient in Scottish poetry. Fergusson found it in Ramsay — Ramsay found it in Hamilton of Gilbertfield, \rho took as his model Semple of Beltrees to whom It was suggested by earlier rhymers. — J. H. t No one placed a higher value on the prosaic virtues of good sense and pru- dence than our poet, and few had a larger endowment of them or more earnestly inculcated their practice on others (See " Epistle To a Young Friend," p. 293) but their admonitions were too often drowned in the "Siren Voice" of his emotional impulses. For his estimate of his own character, see "A Bard's Epitaph," his l' means of information, how much ground I occupied as a man and as a poet ; I studied assidu- ously Nature's design, where she seemed to have in- tended the various lights and shades in my character. I was pretty sure 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 would 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 ; besides pocketing (all expenses deducted), near twenty pounds. This last came very seasonably, as I was about to indent myself, for want of money to pay my freight. So soon as I was mas- ter of nine guineas, the price of wafting me to the Torrid Zone, I bespoke a passage in the very first Ship that was to sail, for " Hungry ruin had me in the wind." I had for some time been skulking from covert to covert, under all the terrors of a jail ; as some ill-ad- vised, ungrateful people t had uncoupled the merciless legal pack at my heels. I had taken the last farewell of my few friends ; my chest was on the road to * Compare Bums' justifiable self-confidence in himself as expressed here, with liis real modesty when comparing himself with his brother (see page 346). He had already acquired a large measure of the much-desired gift of self-knowl- edge — of " seeing himself as others saw him." — J. H. t Jean Armour's parents. — J. H. AUTOBIOGRAPHY. S49 Greenock ; I had composed a song, "The gloomy night is gathering fast," which was to be the last effort of my muse in Caledonia, when a letter from Dr. Blacklock to a friend of mine * overthrew all my schemes, by rousing my poetic ambition. The Doctor belonged to a class of critics for whose applause I had not even dared to hope. His idea, that I would meet with every encouragement for a second edition, fired me so much that away I posted for Edinburgh with- out a single acquaintance in town, or a single letter of recommendation in my pocket. The baneful star that had so long presided in my Zenith, for once made a revolution to the Nadir ; and the providential care of a good God placed me under the patronage of one of his noblest creatures, the Earl of Glencairn. *' Oubliez nioi^ grand Dieu^ si jamais je V oiibliel'''* 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 manners living as they rise. ' ' You can now, Sir, form a pretty near guess of what sort of a Wight he is, whom for some time you have honored with your correspondence. That Whim and Fancy, keen sensibility and riotous passions, may still make him zig-zag in his future path of life, is very probable ; but, come what will, I shall answer for him — the most determinate integrity and honor [shall ever be his guiding-stars ;] f and though his evil star should again blaze in his meridian with tenfold more direful influence, he may reluctantly tax friendship with pity, but no more. My most respectful compliments to Miss Williams. The very elegant and friendly letter she honored me with a few days ago, I cannot answer at present, as * The Rev. George Lawrie of Loudon. — J. H. t The words within brackets are not in the MS., but the sentence is incomplete Without them or some words of similar import. — J. H. 350 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. my presence is required at Edinburgh for a week oi so, and I set off to-morrow. I enclose you ' ' Holy Willie ' ' for the sake of giving you a little further information of the affair than Mr. Creech could do. An Elegy I composed the other day on Sir James H. Blair, if time allow, I will transcribe. The merit is just mediocre. If you will oblige me so highly and do me so much honor as now and then to drop me a line, please direct to me at Mauchline, Ayrshire. With the most grate- ful respect, I have the honor to be. Sir, your very humble servant, ^ RoBT. Burns. . Mauchi,ine, 2nd August^ 1787. Direct to me at Mauchline, Ayrshire. Edinburgh, 23 ra? September. Sir, — The foregoing letter was unluckily forgot among other papers at Glasgow on my way to Edin- burgh. Soon after I came to Edinburgh I went on a tour through the Highlands, and did not recover the letter till my return to town, which was the other day. My ideas, picked up in my pilgrimage, and some rhymes of my earlier years, I shall soon be at leisure to give you at large — so soon as I hear from you whether you are in I^ondon. I am, again. Sir, yours most gratefully, R. Burns.* The foregoing letter to Dr. Moore, which furnishes such a masterly panoramic view of the writer's early life down to his twenty-ninth year, although abundantly confirming our in- * Foot-note by Dr. Currie, 1800. " There are various copies of this letter in the author's handwriting; and one of these, evidently corrected, is in the book in which he copied several of his letters. This has been used for the press, 'sriti some omissions, and one slight alteration suggested by Gilbert Bums." NOTES TO AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 351 troductory statement that without such a self-portrayal our knowledge of the poet must be incomplete, is yet too concise to satisfy the thirst for every detail in the early career of a man in whom the whole world feels a deep and growing interest. We shall therefore, before presenting the reader with the ear- liest known specimen of the author's prose composition, retrace our steps, with a view of supplying some missing links in the biographic chain of events, and of rendering the story of the bard's earlier years as complete as possible. A1.1.0WAY — Early Nurture — John Murdoch. The record of the poet's birth contained in the session books of the conjoined parishes of Alloway and Ayr is as follows : — ' ' Robert Burns, lawful son of William Burns in Alloway, and Agnes Brown his spouse, was bora in January 25th, 1759 : bap- tised by Mr. William Dalrymple. Witnesses, John Tennant and James Young." * Dr. Currie narrates that the future poet was sent " In his sixth year to a school at Alloway Miln, about a mile distant from the :^ottage, taught by a person named Campbell ; but this teacher being in a few months appointed master of the workhouse at Ayr, William Burness, in conjunction with some other heads of families, engaged John Murdoch in his stead." The latter was a promising student, about eighteen years old, when in May 1765, he was thus incidentally made instnimental in training the mind of Scotland's rational poet. The little house then selected for use as a school still exists on the roadside, directly opposite the cottage in which his celebrated pupil was born. " In that cot- tage," wrote Murdoch in 1799, " of which I myself was at times an inhabitant, I really believe there dwelt a larger portion of con- tent than in any palace in Kurope. . . . My five employers under- took to board me by "turns, and to make up a certain salary at the end of the year, provided my quarterly payments from the dif- * The reader will observe that the family name is not here spelled as if pro- nounced with two syllables, but is in the form into which the poet and his brother Gilbert agreed to contract it in April 17S6. The explanation is that in Ayrshire the compressed mode had been established by familiar nsaRe, while in the North, the old spelling and pronunciation were retained. It is also interest- ing to note that "John Tennant," one of the witnesses of the poet's baptism, was an early Ayrshire friend of William Hurness, afterwards known as "John Tennant in Glenconnor," of which fact we shall aftonvards adduce proof The Rev. William Dalrymple survived to know Hums as a distinguished poet and to be himself a s'sbjcct of panegyric iu his verses. 352 NOTES TO AUTOBIOGR^VPHY. ferent pupils did not amount to that sum." Murdoch conducted this little school for nearly two years and a half ; but consider- ably prior to the close of that engagement, William Burness had removed with his family to Mount Oliphant, above two miles south-eastward, a bleak upland fann of seventy acres, which he leased from his kind employer and patron, Provost Ferguson. Mount Oliphant — Parkntal Training — Early Hardships. The date of the lease, (the original of which is now possessed by Mr. Gilbert Burns, of Dublin) is 1765 ; but Ishe family did not begin to reside on the fann till Whitsunday 1766. That removal interrupted the progress of the poet's education under Murdoch, who records that, in consequence of the distance, the boys could not attend school regularly. Gilbert adds that " there being no school near us, and our little services being useful on the farm, my father undertook to teach us arithmetic in the winter even- ings by candle-light ; and in this way my two elder sisters got all the education they ever received." Another kind of education, which was of much use to Bums in afterlife, and to which he makes special reference in the Auto- biography, was that received from his mother's relative, Betty Davidson, who lived in family with them, and who assisted in implanting in his infantile and boyish mind the latent seeds of poetry. According to Mrs. Begg's remembrance, Betty endeav- ored to requite the kindness of William Bums by her assiduity in .spinning, carding, and doing all kinds of good offices that were in her power, and she was a great favorite with the children. "Nothing," says Gilbert, "could be more retired than our general manner of living at ISIount Oliphant ; we rarely saw any- bod}^ but the members of our own family. There were no boys of our own age or near it in the neighborhood ; indeed my father was for some time almost the only companion we had. He con- versed familiarly on all subjects with us, as if we had been men, and was at great pains, as we accompanied him in the labors of the farm, to lead the conversation to such subjects, as might tend to increase our knowledge, or confirm us in virtuous habits." The devoted parent borrowed books for the instruction of his children, and ' ' Robert read all these with an avidity and industry scarcely to be equalled ; and no book was so voluminous as to slacken his industry, or so antiquated as to damp his researches." During a summer quarter of 1772, according to Gilbert's narra- » 15 A T>T7\' M •ur THE BIRTHPLACE OF BURNS. » NOTES TO AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 353 tive, Robert and he were sent " week about " to the parish school of Dalrymple, distant about three miles, to improve their hand- writing. One of Robert's school exercises there — eight lines of verse on the value of Religion — he retained throughout life and loved to quote to serious correspondents. It was there also that he formed the acquaintanceship of James Candlish, who after- wards married the wittiest of the " Mauchline Belles," became a distinguished lecturer on Medicine in Edinburgh, and the father of a still more distinguished son — the late Principal Candlish of the Free Church College, Edinburgh. Meanwhile, in this same year (1772), the poet's early tutor, John Murdoch, was appointed to succeed David Tennant as teacher of the English School at Ayr. " This was," wrote Gilbert, "a cir- cumstance of considerable importance to us ; the remembrance of my father's former friendship, and his attachment to my brother, made him do everything in his power for our improvement." In particular, Robert went to Ayr a little before the harvest season of 1773, and lodged with Murdoch during a few weeks, for the purpose of revising English Grammar, &c., " that he might be the better qualified to instruct his brothers and sisters at home." A week's study sufficed to make him master of the parts of speech, and the remaining portion of that visit was spent in acquiring a pretty general knowledge of the French language. This worthy schoolmaster, who had so materially con- tributed towards the proper cultivation of his distinguished pupil's mind, thus modestly concludes his description of the manly quali- ties and Christian virtues of William Burness : — "Although I cannot do justice to the character of this worthy man, yet you will perceive from these few particulars ic'//a^ kind of person had the principal part in the education of the Poet. He spoke the Eng- lish language with more propriety, both with respect to diction and pronunciation, than any man I ever knew, with no greatei advantages : this had a very good effect on the boys, who began to talk and reason like men much sooner than their neighbors." It must have been about this period that the venerated parent compiled for the use of his children a little manual of religious belief in the form of a dialogue between a father and his son. That document, carefully transcribed in the hand-writing of John Murdoch, is now in the possession of Mr. Gilbert Burns of Dublin,* who also is custodier of the "big Ila'-Bible " which belonged to William Burness, containing on one of its fly leaves the following Family Register entered by his own hand : — *This interesting relic was first printed at Kilmarnock, 1875, and we here give an accurate reprint of it. Notwithstanding Mr. Murdock's high testimony to the w 354 NOTES rO AUTOBIOGRAPHY, "William Bumess was bom, nth November 1721. Agnes Brown was born, I7tli March 1732. Married together, 15th December 1757. Had a son Robert, 25th January 1759. Had a son Gilbert, 28th September 1760. Had a daughter Agnes, 30th September 1762. Had a daughter Annabella, 14th November 1764. character and attainments of William Bumess, no one who reads the two letters following this " Dialogue " will be inclined to believe that the latter is the worthy man's unaided production. Murdoch, we know, transcribed the copy gfiven him by Mr. Huriiess and made the necessary grammatical corrections on it. It is almost certain he did more for it than this, for it is scarcely credible that the writer of the meagre letter to James Rurness, Montrose, could, without a.ssistance, produce such a coherent and logical compendiuul as this manual. Murdoch was a resident in the family at the date of its compilation, a^d there can be little doubt he helped his friend to put his ideas into shape. Whether these ideas were original or borrowed, more or less, from some other manual of the same kind, or whether they were developed and formulated in the course of conversa- tions and discussions with Murdoch, it is now impossible to say. One thing is clear William Bumess was not satisfied with the rigid Calvinism inculcated in "The Shorter Catechism of the Westminster Assembly of Divines." This compendium of sound doctrine was taught to every Presbyterian child attending school in Scotland, and, when parents did not object, to non-presbyte- rian youngsters as well. Besides, every decent head of a house examined ("tairged") his children, and household generally, on the Westminster Cate- chism ("carritch") each Sunday evening. That Burns' father was in the habit of doing so we learn from the poet's " Letter to Gavin Hamilton" (Vol. i. p. 2S5). Evidently this manual— whether compiled by William Bumess himself or simply in accordance with his wishes and suggestions — was prepared with the view of mitigating to his children the rigid Calvinism of the orthodox Catechism, and after reading it we can the more easily understand how Robert should have from the first, showed a leaning towards the "New Light." — J. H. A M.\NUAL OF Religious Belief, in form of a Dialogue between Father and Son. Compiled by ITm. Bumess, farmer at Mount Oliphant, Ayrshire, and tran- scribed, ivith grammatical corrections, by John Murdoch, Teacher. Son. Dear Father, you have oflen told me, while you were initiating me into the Christian Religion, that you stood bound for me, to give me a Christian edu- cation, and recommended a religious life to me. I would therefore, if you please, ask you a few questions that may tend to confirm my faith, and clear its evi- dence to me. Father. My Dear Child, with gladness I will resolve to you (so far as I am able), any question you shall ask, only with this caution, that you will believe my answers, if they are founded in the Word of God. Question. How shall I evidence to myself that there is a God ? Answer. By the works of creation : for nothing can make itself; and this fabric of Nature demonstrates its Creator to be possessed of all possible perfection, and for that cause we owe all that we have to Him. Question. If God be ijossessed of all possible perfection, ought not we then to love Him as well as fear Him? Answer. Yes; we ought to serve Him out of love, for His perfections give us delightful prospects of His favor and friendship, for if we serve Him out of love, NOTES TO AUTOBIOGRAPHY. ' 855 Had a son William, 3otli July 1767. Had a son John, loth July 1769. Had a daughter Isbal, 27th June 1771." At the Martinmas following the birth of Isabella, the young-, est child of the family, the first break in the lease of Mount We will endeavor to be like Him, and God will love His own image, and if God love us, He will rejoice over us and do us good. Question. Then one would think this were sufficient to determine all men to love God ; but how shall we account for so much wickedness in the world ? Answer. God's Revealed Word teaches us that our first parents brake His Covenant, and deprived us of the influences of His Grace that were to be expected in that state, and introduced Sin into the world ; and the Devil, that great enemy of God and man, laying hold on this instrument, his kingdom has made great progress iu the world. Question. But has God left His own rational offspring thus, to the tyranny ^f His and their enemy ? Answer. No: for God hath addressed His rational creatures, by telling them in His Revealed Word, that the seed of the woman should bruise the head of the Serpent, or Devil, or in time destroy his kingdom ; and in the meantime, evety one oppressed with the tyranny of the Devil, should, through the promised seed, by faith iu Him, and humble supplication, and a strenuous use of their own faculties, receive such measures of Grace, in and through the method of God's conveyance, as should make them able to overcome. Question. But by what shall I know that this is a revelation of God, and not a cunningly devised fable ? Answer. A revelation of God must have these four marks, i. It must be* worthy of God to reveal ; 2. It must answer all the necessities of human nature ; 3. It must be sufficiently attested by miracles ; and 4. It is known by prophecie? and their fulfilment.. That it is worthy of God is plain, by its addressing itself to the reason of men, and plainly laying before them the dangers to which they are liable, with motives and arguments to persuade them to their duty, and promis- ing such rewards as are fitted to promote the happiness of a rational soul. Secondly, it provides for the guilt of human nature, making an atonement by a Mediator ; and for its weakness by promising the assistance of God's Spirit ; and for its happiness, by promising a composure of mind, by the regulation of its faculties, and reducing the appetites and passions of the body unto the subjec- tion of reason enlightened by the Word of God, and by a resurrection of the body, and a glorification of both soul and body in heaven, and that to last through all eternity. Thirdly, as a miracle is a contradiction of known laws of Nature, demonstrating that the worker has the power of Nature in his hands, and con- sequently must be God, or sent by His commission and authority from Him, to do such and such things. That this is the case in our Scriptures is evident both by the prophets, under the Old, and our Saviour under the New Testament. Whenever it served for the glory of God, or for the confirmation of their com- missions, all Nature was obedient to them ; the elements were at their command, also the sun and moon, yea, Ufe and Death. Fourthly, that prophecies were fulfilled at the distance of many hundreds of years is evident by comparing the following texts of Scripture :— Gen. xlix. 10, 11 ; Matt. xxi. 5 ; Isa. vii. 14; Matt. i. 22, 23; Luke i. 34; Isa. xl. i ; Matt. iii. 3; Mark i. 3 ; Luke iii. 4 ; John i. 23; Isa. xlii. I, 2, 3, 4. A description of the character of Messiah in the Old Testament Scriptures is fulfilled in all the Evangelists. In Isa. 1. 5, His sufferings are pro- phesied, and exactly fulfilled in the New Te.stament, Matt. xxvi. 67, and xxvii. 26; and many others, as that Abraham's seed should be strangers iu a strange laud, 556 ' NOTES TO AUTOBIOGRAPHY. Oliphant occurred. Gilbert has recorded that by a stipulation in the lease, his father had a right to throw it up, if he thought proper, at the end of every sixth year. He attempted to fix him- self in a better farm at the end of the first six years, but failing in that attempt, he continued where he v/as for six years moie. Burns himself, immediately after referring to his three weeks' four hundred years, and being brought to Canaan, and its accomplishment in the days of Joseph, Moses, and Joshua. Question. Seeing the Scriptures are proven to be a revelation of God to Hir creatures, am I not indispensably bound to believe and obey them ? Answer. Yes. Question. Am I equally bound to obey all the laws delivered to Moses upon Mount Sinai ? Answer. No : the laws delivered to Moses are of three kinds : first, the Moral I,aw, which is of eternal and indispensable obligation on all ages and nations ; Secondly, the law of Sacrifices and ordinances were only Ordinances in which were couched types and shadows of things to come, and when that dispensation was at an end, this law ended with them, for Christ is the end of the law for righteousness ; Thirdly, laws that respected the Jewish commonwealth can neither be binding on us, w^ho are not of that commonwealth, nor on the Jews, because their commonwealth is at an end. Question. If the Moral Law be of indispensable obligation, I become bound to perfect and perpetual obedience, of which I am incapable, and on that account cannot hope to be justified and accepted with God. Ans7uer. The Moral Law as a rule of life, must be of indispensable obligation, but it is the glory of the Christian religion, that if we be upright in our endeavors to follow it and sincere in our repentance, upon our failing or shortening, we shall be accepted according to what we have, and shall increase in our strength, by the assistance of the Spirit of God co-operating with our honest endeavors. Question. Seeing the assistance of the Spirit of God is absolutely necessary for salvation, hath not God clearly revealed by what means we may obtain this great blessing ? Anstver. Yes: the Scriptures tell us that the Spirit of God is the purchase of Christ's mediatorial office ; and through faith in Him, and our humble prayers to God through Christ, we shall receive such measures thereof as shall answer our wants. Question. What do you understand by Faith ? AnsTfjer. Faith is a firm persuasion of the Divine mission of our Lord Jesus Christ, and that He is made unto us of God, wisdom, righteousness, and complete redemption ; or as He is represented to us under the notion of a root, and we the branches, deriving all from Him ; or as the head, and we the members of His body ; intimating to us that this is the way or channel through which God con- veys His blessings to us, and we are not to expect them but in God's own way. It is therefore a matter of consequence to us, and therefore we ought with diligence to search the Scriptures, had the extent of His commission, or what they declare Him to be, and to receive Him accordingly, and to acquiesce in God's plan of salva- tion. Question. By what shall I know that Jesus Christ is really the person that was prophesied of in the Old Testament ; or that He was that seed of the woman that was to destroy the kingdom of Sin ? Answer. Besides the Scriptures fore-cited, which fully prove Him to be that blessed person, Christ did many miracles : He healed the sick, gave sight to the blind, made the lame to walk, raised the dead, and fed thousands with a few loaves, &c. He foretold His own death and resurrection, and the wonderful pro * NOTES TO AUTOBIOGRAPHY. ^61 abode with Murdoch in 1772, at the Ayr Grammar School, and his distress at parting with some of his fellow-pupils of superior rank in life, as they occasionally went off for the East or West Indies, adds — "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 curse, we fell into the hands of a factor," &c. Gilbert g^ess of His religion, in spite of all the power of the Roman Empire — and that, by means of His disciples, a few poor illiterate fishermen. Question. You speak of repentance as absolutely necessary to salvation — I would like to know what you mean by repentance ? Answer. I not only mean a sorrowing for sin, but a laboring to sec the malig- nant nature of it ; as setting nature at variance with herself, by placing the ani- mal part before the rational, and thereby putting ourselves on a level with the brute beasts, the consequence of which will be an intestine war in the human frame, until the rational part be entirely weakened, which is Spiritual Death, and which in the nature of the thing renders us unfit for the society of God's spirit- ual kingdom, and to see the beauty of holiness. On the contrary, setting the rational part above the animal, though it promote a war in the human frame, every conflict and victory affords us grateful reflection, and tends to compose the mind more and more, not to the utter destruction of the animal part, but to the real and true enjoyment of both, by placing Nature in the order that its Creator designed it, which, in the natural consequences of the thing, promotes Spiritual Life, and renders us more and more fit for Christ's spiritual kingdom ; and not only so, but gives to animal life pleasure and joy that we never could have had without it. Question. I should be glad to hear you at large upon religion, giving pleasure to animal life ; for it is represented as taking up our cross and following "Christ." Answer. Our Lord honestly told His disciples of their danger, and what they were to expect by being His followers, that the world would hate them, and for this reason, because they were not of the world, even as He al.so was not of the world ; but He gives them sufficient comfort, showing that He had overcome the world : as if He had said, " you must arm yourself with a resolution to fight, for if you be resolved to be My disciples, you expo.se the world, by setting their folly in its true light, and therefore every one who is not brought over by your exam- ple, will hate and oppose you as it hath Me ; but as it hath had no advantage against Me, and I have overcome it, if you continue the conflict, you, by My strength, shall overcome likewise ; " so that this declaration of our Lord cannot damp the pleasures of life when rightly considered, but rather enlarges them. The .same revelation tells us, that a religions life hath the promise of the life tliat now is, and that which is to come ; and not only by the well regulated mind de- scribed in my last answer, as tending to give pleasure and quiet, but by a firm trust in the providence of Ood, and by the help of an honest calling industriously pursued, we shall receive such a portion of the comfortable things of this life as shall be fittest for promoting our eternal interest, and that ujider the direction of infinite wisdom and goodness ; and that we shall overcome nil our ^ slow degrees. The weakness of my nerves has so debilitated my mind, that I dare neither review my past wants, nor look forward into futurity ; for the least anxiety in my ^T. 23.] SEVERE IIvIvNESS. 369 breast produces most unhappy efifects 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 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 liome, Rests and expatiates in a life to come." It is for this reason I am more pleased with the I5tli, 1 6th, and 17th verses of the 7th chapter of Revelation,* 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 ob- scurity 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 remem- * ' Therefore are'^they before the throne of God, and serve Him day and night in His temple ; and He that sitteth on the throne shall dwell among them. They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more ; neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat. For the I.amb that is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters ; and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes.' I. X 370 CORRBSPONDENCE. [1782. bered ere it was too late. Present my dutiful respects to my mother, and my compliments to Mr. and Mrs. Muir ; and, with wishing you a merr>' New-year's day I shall conclude. I am, honored Sir, your dutiful son, Robert Burness. P. S. — My meal is nearly out ; but I am going to borrow till I get more.* The Plough and the Lyre Resumed, 1782. Speaking of this period in his AutobiograpJ;iy, the author says — " Rhyme, except some rehgious pieces that are in print, I had given up ; but meeting with Fergusson's Scots Poems, I strung anew my wildly-sounding rustic lyre with emulating vigor." The admirable piece called "The death and dying words of poor Mailie," together with the songs, "My Nanie O," and "The Rigs o' Barley," are the striking compositions which the above remark suggests to the reader's mind ; we gather from Gilbert's account of the production of Poor Mailie that their youngest brother John (bom in 1769) was then alive. That youth was fourteen years old when he died, and conse- quently would be laid in Alloway kirkyard in 1783, just about a year before the patriarchal father was carried thither. TO SIR JOHN WHITEFOORD, Bart. OF Ballochmyle. (DouGI,AS, 1877.) Sir, — We who subscribe this are both members of St James's Lodge, Tarbolton, and one of us in the ofBce of Warden, and as we have the honor of having *This beautifully dutiful and reverential letter goes far to justify what Waddell says of Burns's character even during the Irvine period. " Still (i. e. in spite of questionable fellowships, &c.,) his heart was uncontaminated, and his life, as lives then went, conspicuously pure. His studious habits, the gentleness and wisdom of his converse, his filial reverence and brotherly attachments were themes of admiration everywhere and to this day are spoken of." Read, in connection with this, his epitaph on his father, which carries its own evidence of its sincerity ; and yet more, that portion of the Cotter's Saturday Night where he depicts the " patriarchal sire."— J. H. • Stt. 24.] FREE MASONRY. 371 you for Master of our Lodge, we hope you will ex- cuse this freedom, as you are the proper person to whom we ought to apply. We look on our Mason Lodge to be a serious matter, both with respect to the character of Masonry itself, and likewise as it is a Charitable Society. This last, indeed, does not inter- est you farther than a benevolent heart is interested in the welfare of its fellow-creatures ; but to us, Sir, who are of the lower orders of mankind, to have a fund in view, on which we may with certainty depend to be kept from want should we be in circumstances of distress, or old age, this is a matter of high import- ance. We are sorry to observe that our Lodge's affairs with respect to its finances, have for a good while been in a wretched situation. We have considerable sums in bills which lye by without being paid, or put in ex- ecution, and many of our members never mind their yearly dues, or anything else belonging to the Lodge. And since the separation from St. David's, we are not sure even of our existence as a Lodge. There has been a dispute before the Grand Lodge, but how de- cided, or if decided at all, we know not. For these and other reasons, we humbly beg the favor of you, as soon as convenient, to call a meeting, an(^l let us consider on some means to retrieve our wretched affairs, — We are, &c. The separation between the St. David's and vSt. James's Lodges of Tarbolton, above referred to, happened in June 1782 ; and therefore the latter portion of that year seems to be the date of the foregoing letter. It exists as a scroll in the poet's handwriting on the back of his draft of No. i of the love-letters to Ellison Begbie, given at p. 360, SKpra. The original is in the possession of John Adams, Esq., Greenock. We have already noted that Burns -was admitted an appren- tice in St. David's Tarbolton Lodge (174) on 4th July, and passed and raised on ist October 1781. At the disruption of that Lodge in June 1782, the separating body to which Bums 372 CORRESPONDENCE. [1783. belonged obtained constitution as " St. James's Tarbolton Lodge (178)," and the poet's name occurs in the books of that Lodge as Depute-master, on 27th July 1784. The next letter of the young bard is a very interesting one, addressed to his early preceptor, Murdoch. It not only exhibits the progress of his studies, but (as Motheru'ell has remarked) " affords us an insight into the origin of part of that senti- mentalism and exaggeration of feeling which are occasionally perceptible, especially in his prose writings." The ballad " My father was a farmer upon the Carrick border," given at p. 38, Vol. I, contains many of the characteristic thoughts found in this letter. (') TO MR. JOHN MURDOCH, SCHOOLMASTER, STAPLES INN BUILDINGS, LONDON. (CURRIE, 1800.) LocHLEA, i$th Ja7iuary 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 ill repay, I em- brace it with pleasure, to tell you that I have not for- gotten, nor will ever 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 indul- gent 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 con- duct will not disgrace the education I have gotten ; but, as a man of the world, I am most miserably de- ficient. One would have thought that, bred as I have been under a father who has figured pretty well as un hofmne des affaires^ I might have been what the world calls, a pushing active fellow ; but to tell you .ST. 25.] HIS FAVORITE AUTHORS. 373 the truth, Sir, there is hardly anything more my reverse. I seem to be one sent into the world to see and ob- serve ; and I very easily comj^ound with the knave who tricks me of my money, if there be any thing original about him which shews me human nature in a different light from any thing I have seen before. In short, the joy of my heart is to "study men, their manners, and their ways;" and for this darling sub- ject 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. 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, especially 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 — pos- sibly some pitiful, sordid wretch who in my heart I despise and detest. 'Tis this, and this alone, that en- dears economy to me.f In the matter of books, indeed, I am very profuse. My favorite authors are of the sentimental kind, such as Shenstone, particularly his Elegies ; Thomson ; Man of Feeling (a book I prize * The last shift alluded to here, must be the condition of an itinerant beggar. — CuRRiE. The same sentiment, clothed in fascinating verse, is found in the first " Epistle to Davie." t The reader will recognise in the above passage the materials of one of the most admired stanzas in the " Epistle to a younjj Friend." 374 CORRESPONDENCE. [1783, next to the Bible) ; Man of the World ; Sterne, espe- cially his Se7itimental Journey ; M'Pherson's Ossian^ &c. : these are the glorious models after which I en- deavor 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 the whole human race — he ' ' who can soar above this little scene of tilings" — can he descend to mind the paltry con- cerns 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 l^oor insignifi- cant 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 busi- ness jostle me on every side as an idle incumbrance in their way.f — But I dare say I have by this time tired your patience ; so I shall conclude with begging you to give IMrs. Murdoch — not my compliments, for that is a mere common place stor>' ; but my warmest, kind- est wishes for her welfare ; and accept of the same for yourself, from, — Dear Sir, yours, &c. The reference made in the above letter to the writer's aged father is very slight, but elsewhere he says : — "the clouds of misfortune were gathering thick round my father's head, the darkest of which was, he was visibly far gone in a consump- tion." The two letters which follow — addressed to the son of James, the deceased elder brother of William Bumess, carry that topic to its dark issue, and the first of these is expanded into what Chambers terms, "a sensible this-world-like sketch of the state of country matters at that time in Ayrshire." * Bums was fond of such Latin compounds as " terrjefilial " and " tenebrific," the latter of which he uses in the Epistle to Davie. \ The reader will in this passage be reminded of similar language introduced into some of the poet's epistles in 1785, for instance, The warly race may drudge and drive, Hog-shouther jundie, stretch and strive, Let me fair Nature's face descrive," &c. p. 118. MT. 25.] HIS FATHER'S REI.ATIONS. 375 In strict chronological order we ought here to introduce the opening passages of a very interesting Common-place Book, which the poet commenced in April 1783, and continued from time to time to insert entries therein till he closed it in Octo- ber 1785, with the words — " Let my pupil, as he tenders his own peace, keep up a regular, warm intercourse with the Deity." But we will present that document verbatim and in- tact, from the original manuscript, in its proper place, and therefore defer its introduction until it may be perused with more effect. C) TO MR. JAMES BURNESS, WRITER, MONT- ROSE.* (Gilbert Burns's Ed., 1S20.) Dear Sir, — My father received your favor of the loth curt., and as he has been for some months very poorly in health, and is, in his own opinion — and in- deed in ahnost every body's else — in a dying condi- tion, he has only with great difficulty wrote 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 cor- respondence 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, f I shall only trouble you with a few particulars rela- tive to the present wretched state of this country. Our markets are exceedingly high — oatmeal \']d. and \?)d. per peck, and not to be got even at that price. We have indeed been pretty well supplied with quantities of white peas from England and elsewhere, but that *This gentlemap, a son of James Burness, the deceased brother of William Burness, was, of course, a full cousin of the poet, and his senior by upwards of eight years. t John Caird, as the reader has seen at p. 331 supra, was the husband oi EJlspet. a sister of the poet's father. 376 CORRESPONDENCE. [1783. 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 flourish- ing 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 English, and the Lo- thians, and other rich soils in Scotland, make no al- lowance for the odds of the quality of land, and con- sequently 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 improve- ments 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 misera- ble job of a Douglas, Heron, and Co. 's bank, which no doubt you have 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 favors, is generally even with them at the last ; ^r. 25.] DEATH OF HIS FATHER. 377 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 mother and the rest of the family desire to enclose their kind comp''^^. to you, Mrs. Bur- ness, and the rest of your family, along with, dear Sir, Your affectionate Cousin, ROBT. BURNESS.* LoCHLKA, 215/ June 1783. (2) TO MR. JAMES BURNESS, WRITER, MONTROSE. (Gilbert Burns's Ed., 1820.) D^. Cousin, — I would have returned you my thanks for your kind favor 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, f Though, to be sure, we have had long warning of the * The original MS. of this letter, and of that which immediately foUow.s, is pre- served in the poet's monument at Edinburgh. A comparison of our text with that of other editions will show several nice variations here as the result of the col- lation. t Notwithstanding the poet's (erroneou.s) impression in regard to his father's dislike to him, we see here, as elsewhere, the tender respect with which he cher ished his memory.— J. H. 378 CORRESPONDENCE. [1783. impending stroke ; still the feelings of nature claim tlieir part, and I cannot recollect the tender endear- ments and parental lessons of the best of friends and A. the 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 connection in this place die with him. For my part I shall ever with pleasure — with pride, acknowl- edge my connection with those who were allied by the ties of blood and friendship to a man whose memory I shall ever honor and revere. I expect therefore, my dear Sir, you wiU not neglect any opportunity of letting me hear from you, which will very much oblidge, — My dear Cousin, yours sin- cerely, Robert Burness. LocHLEA, l^th February 1784. OTO MR. JAMES BURNESS, WRITER, MONTROSE. (Cunningham, 1834.) MossGiEL, 3 Aug. 1784. My Dear Sir, — I ought in gratitude to have acknowledged the receipt of your last kind letter before this time ; but, without troubling you with any apology, I shall proceed to inform you that our family are all in good health at present, and we were very happy with the unexpected favor of John Caird's company for nearly two weeks, and I must say it of him that he is one of the most agreeable, facetious, warm-hearted lads I was ever acquainted with. We have been surprised with one of the most extra- ordinary phenomena in the moral world, which, I dare say, has happened in the course of this last century. We have had a party of the ' ' Presbytery Relief, ' ' as -^T. 26.] THE BUCHANITES. 379 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. Buclian from Glasgow came and began to spread some fanatical notions of religion among them, and in a short time made many converts among them, and among others, their Preacher, one Mr. Whyte, who, upon that account, has been sus- pended and formally deposed by his brethren. He continued, however, to preach in private to his party, and was supported, both he and their Spiritual IMother, as they affect to call old Buchan, by the contributions of the rest, several of whom were in good circum- stances ; till in Spring last, the populace rose and mobbed the old leader, 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 bel- lowing at the crib without meat, or any body to mind her, and after several stages they are fixed at present in the neighborhood of Dumfries. Their tenets are a strange jumble of enthusiastic jargon ; among others, she pre- tends to give them the Holy Ghost by breathing on them, which she does with postures and practices tliat are scandalously indecent. They have likewise dis- posed 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, wliere 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 moral 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 in leaving the guidance of sound reason and common sense in matters of religion. Whenever we 380 CORRESrONDENCE. [1784. neglect or despise these sacred monitors, the whimsical notions of a perturbated brain are taken for the imme- diate influences of the Deity, and the wildest fanaticism, and the most inconsistent absurdities, will meet with abettors and converts. Nay, I have often thought, that the more out-of-the-way and ridiculous their fancies are, if once they are sanctified under the sacred name of Religion, the unhappy mistaken votaries are the more firmly glued to them. I expect to hear from \'0U soon, and I beg you will remember me to all friends, and believe me to be, my Dear Sir, your affectionate Cousin^i Robert Burxess. Direct to mc at Mossgiel, parish of Mauchline, near Kilmarnock. The hologfraph of the above letter i.s preser\'ed in the poet's monument at Edinburfjh, from which we supply the opening and conchulinj:: parap;^raphs hitherto omitted, and corrc-ct several inaccuracies in former editions. The following letter is addressed to Thomas Orr, an old associate of the jwet, in his Kirkoswald School days of Autumn 1775, who occasionally came to Lochlea to assist in shearing the harvest grain. Thomas Orr was in Burns's confi- dence regarding his amour with Pegg>' Thomson, which forms the subject of the following note. It is to him that William Bumess addresses the first of the two letters of his here pub- lished. (See page 358.) See fac-simile of a letter to T. Orr, 1782, inserted. 0) TO MR. THOMAS ORR, PARK, NEAR KIRKOSWALD. (D0UGL.\S, 1877.) D"*. Thomas, — I am much obliged to you for your last letter, tho' I assure you the contents of it gave me no manner of concern. I am presently so cursedly taken in with an afifair of gallantr}', that I am very * ^T. 25.] MISS KENNEDY. 381 glad Peggy is off my hands, as I am at present em- barrassed enough without her. I don't choose to enter into particulars in writing, but never was a poor rakish rascal in a more pitiful taking. I should be glad to see you to tell you the ajGfair, meanwhile I am your friend, Robert Burness. MossGiEL, II Nov. 1784. Amid all the wealth of poetry produced by Burns in course of the year 1785, it is curious to note that only one prose letter, known to have been penned by him in that year, is found in his correspondence. It is the one addressed to Miss Peggy Kennedy of Daljarrock, parish of Cohnonell, a young Carrick beauty who in the autumn of that year paid a visit of some weeks' duration to her relative, Mrs. Gavin Hamilton. Bvirns became acquainted with her during his then almost daily intercourse with Mr. Hamilton, and recorded his admira- tion of her person in the poem printed at page 139, Vol. I. His warmest good-wivShes were at same time expressed in the following letter which enclosed the verses. TO MISS MARGARET KENNEDY.* (Cromek, 1808.) [Autumn of 1785-] Madam,— Pennit me to present you with the en- closed song, as a small though grateful tribute for the honor 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 are still nearer perfection than you really are. Poets, Madam, of all mankind, feel most forcibly * Miss Kennedy was the niece of Sir Andrew Cathcart, of Carletou Bart. Burns made her acquaintance at the house of Gavin Hamilton, Mauchline. We win in a future portion of tliis work have to very fuHy treat of her history. She was the " occasion" of " Ye Banks and Braes o' Bonie Doon," and other pieces.— J. H. 382 CORRESPONDENCE. [1784. 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 ma- jesty of Winter, the poet feels a chann unknown to the most 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 men are strangers to. On this last account. Madam, I am, as in many other things, indebted to Mr. Hamilton's kindness in fntroducing 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 ad- miration. 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 villainy may never beset you in the road of life — that Innocence may hand you by the path of Honor to the dwelling of Peace — is the sincere wish of him who has the honor to be, &c. R. B. The first letter that Bums penned in 1786 that has been preserv^ed gives a hint to his correspondent that some impor- tant matter with respect to himself, — not the most agreeable — had occurred. It also gives a list of his more recent poetical compositions which not only furnishes an excellent guide in the chronology of those early poems, but evinces how eagerly the poet then was bent on creating materials to fill a volume of his works to be laid before the public. OTO MR. JOHN RICHMOND, EDINBURGH. (Cromek, 1808.) MosSGiEL, T^th February 1786. My Dear Sir, — I have not time at present to up- braid you for your silence and neglect ; I shall only • I7S6.] FIRST HINT OF DISAGREEABLES. 383 say I received yours with great pleasure. I have en- closed 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 Cot- ter' 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 resj^ect to myself, not the most agreeable — news I am sure you cannot guess, but I shall give you the particulars another time. I am extremely happy with Smith ; f 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 estrange or alter me. Excuse haste, as I got yours but yesterday. I am, my dear Sir, yours, ROBT. BURNESS. TO JAMES SMITH, MAUCHEINE. (LOCKHART, 182S.) .... Against two things I am fixed as fate — stay- ing at home ; and owning her conjugally. The first, by Heaven, I will not do !— the last, by Hell, I will never do ! A good God bless you, and make you * Robert Fergusson's Poems, which Burns had before perused in a borrowed copy. t James Smith, an account of whom has been given at page 233 vol. I. 384 CORRESPONDENCE. [1786^ happy, up to the warmest weeping wish of parting friendship .... If yen see Jean, tell her I will meet her, so help me God, in my hour of need.* R. B. Mr. Lockhart thus explains the above singular fragment :-~ "When Burns was first informed of Miss Armour's condition, the announcement staggered him hke a blow. He saw nothing for it but to fly the country at once ; and in a note to James Smith of Mauchline, the cotifidante of his amour, he wrote as above. ' ' The lovers met accordingly ; and the result of the meeting was what was to be anticipated from the tenderness and the manhness of Bums's feelings. All dread of personal incon- venience yielded at once to the tears of the woman he loved, and ere they parted, he gave into her keeping a written acknowledgment of marriage, which, when produced by a person in Miss Armour's condition, is, according to the Scots law, to be accepted as legal evidence of an irregular marriage .... By what arguments the girl's parents afterwards pre- vailed on her to take so strange and so painful a step we know not ; but the fact is certain, that, at their urgent en- treaty, she destro3'ed the document, which must have been to her the most precious of her possessions — the only evidence of her marriage." TO MR. JOHN KENNEDY, t (Cunningham, 1834.) MossGiBiv, 2>d 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. * 'Tis a pity that the whole of this letter is not eiven.— G. G. t This gentleman, an intimate friend of Gavin Hamilton, was then Factor at Dumfries House, and subsequently Factor to the Farl of Breadalbane. He died in 1812, aged 55 ; so that when he was entrusted with a perusal of the poet's only copy of the Cotter's Saturday Night, he was quite a young man, senior of Burns by only two years. ^T. 28.] PROPOSALS TO PUBLISH. 385 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 E'er bring you in by Mauchline Corse, &c. See p. 256, supra. ROBT. BURNESS. C)TO MR. ROBERT MUIR, KII'^ — perhaps perdition. The story of the letter was this. I had got deeply in love with a young fair one, of which proofs were • 9 Mr. 28.] EGOTISMS. 395 every day arising more and more to view. I would gladly have covered my Inamorata from the darts of calumny with the conjugal shield — nay, I had actually made up some sort of Wedlock ; but I was at that time deep in the guilt of being unfortunate, for which good and lawful objection, the lady's friends broke all our measures and drove me au desespoir. EGOTISMS FROM MY OWN SENSATIONS. (Cromek, i8o8.) 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 uuder- strapping virtue of discretion. ' ' I am so apt to a lapsus lingii£B^ that I sometimes think the character of a cer- tain 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 infinnity, and, if possible, to mend it. The preceding remark.s are followed by these pieces : — 1. Song— " Tho' cruel Fate should bid us part," 2. Fragment— " One night as I did wander," 3. Song— "There was a lad was bom in Kyle," 4. Elegy on the Death of Robert Ruisseaux, pp. 123 to 128, sjipra 396 CORRESPONDENCE. [1786. TO MR. JOHN KENNEDY, ENCI.OSING THE author's "epistle TO JOHN RANKINE," P. 65, SUPRA. (Cunningham, 1834.) MossGiEL, \ith May 1786. 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 Ser- vant, RoBT. Burns. C) TO MR. DAVID BRICE, SHOEMAKER, GLASGOW. (Cromek, 1808,* and Cunningham, 1834.) MossGiEl/, \ith June 1786. , Dear BricE, — I received your message by G. Pat- fcr^on, and as I am 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 * Cromek gave a mere fragment of this letter, which Cunningham afterwards published more completely. .M.r. 28.] DEAR, UNGRATEFUL JEAN. 397 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 per- jury 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 for- get 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, ungrate- ful 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 fasi as possible. Believe me to be, dear Brice, your friend and well- wisher RoBT. Burns. TO MR. JAMES BURNESS, WRITER, MONTROSE. (Douglas, 1877.) My Dear Sir,— I wrote you about three half-twelve months ago by post, and I wrote you about a year 398 CORRESPONDENCE. I1786. ago by a private hand, and I have not had the least return from you. I have just half-a-minute to write you by an Aberdeen gentleman of my acquaintance who promises to wait upon you with this on his arri- val, or soon after : I intend to send you a letter ac- companied with a singular curiosity in about five or six weeks hence. I shall then write you more at large ; meanwhile you are just to look on this as a memento 7ne. I hope all friends are well. — I am ever, my dear Sir, your aflfectionate cousin, ROBT. BURNESS. MosSGiEiy, near Mauchi,ine, 1 July ^ih, 1786. i The poet's holograph of this note is in his monument at Edinburgh. The " singular curiosity " here referred to means a copy of the first edition of the author's poems, then at the press. The reader will notice that although Bums had, some three months previously, ceased to write his name, as in two syllables, he here returns to the old mode of spelling, in def- erence to his correspondent. TO Mr. JOHN RICHMOND, EDINBURGH, (Hogg and Motherwell, 1835.) MOSSGIEL, ^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 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 countryside as witnesses against him. He still stands out steady and denying ; but proof was led yesternight of circum- stances highly suspicious, almost de facto : one of the « ^T. ?8.] THE COURT OF EQUITY. 3U9 girls made oath 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 the least view of reconciliation, but merely to ask for her health, and to you I will confess it, from a foolish hankering fondness, ver>' ill placed in- deed. The mother forbade me the house, nor did Jean show that penitence that might have been expected. However the priest, I am informed, will give me a cer- tificate 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 sackcloth and ashes this day. I am indulged so far as to appear in nu' own seat. Peccavi^ pater^ miserere mei. My book will be ready in a fortnight. If you have any subscribers, return them by Connell. The Lord stand with the righteous ; amen, amen. R. B. Note : — ^We had determined, when we treated of the "Court of Equity" at page 156 supra, to have entirely left out the "min- utes " which exist in Burns's own handwriting in the British Museum, Egerton MSS. 1656, folio 8. We have, however, now determined to present it to the public in such a form as will not be offensive in family circles. We may say for those who are cu- rious in such matters that the whole performance (and cs]iccially the parts left out) is simply silly, and altogether unworlliy tlie genius of Burns ; but as it is frequently referred to in this edition of his works, we think that the abridgement which we here give will be satisfactor>'. It has never before a]ipcared in jmnt in any form, and as it is the only authenticated i)roilucti()n of Burns which would have been lell out had we omitted it, we think this ♦This paragraph Dr. Chambers has fastidiously omitted. Tlu- " lii, suf-ni. John Richmond had formerly acted as "Clerk of Court," and hence the reason txl "godly Bryan's" delinquency being coninninicated to him. 400 THE COURT OF EQUITY. [1786. an additional reason for giving it place in our COMPLETE EDI TION of his works.— J. H. THE COURT OF EQUITY. In Truth and Honor's name, Amen Know all men by these presents plain. This twalt o' May, at Mauchline given ; The year 'tween eighty-five an' seven ; We As per extractum from each Session ; And by our Brethren constituted, A Court of Equity deputed, With special authoris'd direction, To take beneath our strict protection, We take cognisance there anent, The proper Judges competent. First, Poet Bums, he takes the Chair : Allow'd by all, his title's fair ; And past nem. con. without dissension, He has a duplicate pretension. The second Smith, our worthy Fiscal, To cowe each pertinacious rascal ; In this, as ev'ry other state. His merit is conspicuous great. Richmond the third, our trusty Clerk, Our Minutes regular to mark ; And sit dispenser of the law In absence of the former twa. The fourth, our Messenger at arms, When failing all the milder terms, Hunter a hearty willing Brother, Weel skill 'd in dead an' living leather. Without Preamble less or more said, We body politic aforesaid. With legal, due whereas, and wherefore. We are appointed here to care for The int' rests of our Constituents, And punish contraveening truants ; * Eight lines omitted here referring to village gossip and scandaL t Two lines omitted. «T. 28.] THE COURT OF EQUITY. 401 Whereas, Our Fiscal by Petition Informs lis there is strong suspicion You, Coachman Dow, and Clockie Brown Baith residenters in this town, In other words. You, Jock and Sandie Then Brother Dow, if you're asham'd In such a quorum to be named, Your conduct much is to be blam'd ; See ev'n himsel, there's godly Br^^an, The auld whatreck he has been try in', When such as he put to their han', What man on character need stan' ? Then Brother dear lift up your brow, And like 3'oursel, the truth avow ; Erect a dauntless face upon it. An' say, ' ' I am the man has done it ; t Then Brown and Dow above-design' d, For clagsj an' clauses there subjoin'd, We, Court aforesaid, cite & summon, That on the fourth o' June incomin, The hour o' Cause, in our Court-ha' At Whiteford's Arms, Ye answer Law. But, as reluctantly we punish. An' rather, mildly would admonish ; Since Better Punishment prevented, Than Obstinacy fair repented Then, for that ancient Secret's sake, You have the honor to partake ; An' for that noble Badge you wear. You, Sandie Dow our Brother dear, We give you as a Man an' INIason, This private, sober, friendly lesson. I The rope they round the pump shall tak An' tye your hans bchint your back ; * Twenty-five lines omitted, describing the charge against Brown, the clocto maker. t Thirty-one lines omitted, containing charge against Coachman Dow. X Impeachments, a Scotch legal term. \ Two lines omitted. I. z 402 THE COURT OF EQUITY. [1786 \Vi' just an ell o' string allow'd, To jink an' hide you frae th' crowd. There he shall stan', a legal seisure, During said Maggie Mitchel's pleasure; So be, her pleasure dinna pass Seven turnings of a half-hour glass ; Nor shall it in her pleasure be To lowse you out in less than three. This, our futurum esse Decreet, We mean it not to keep a secret : But in Our summons here insert it, And whoso dares, may controvert it, This, mark'd before the date and place is : Subsign : um est per Burns the Preses. L. S. B. This Summons & the Signet mark Extractum est per Richmond, Clerk. Richmond. At Mauchline, twenty-fifth of May, About the twalt hour o' the day. You two, in propria pensona, Before design' d Sandie & Johnie, This summons legally have got, As vide Witness underwrote ; Within the house of John Dow, Vinter Nunc facio hoc — Gullelmus Hunter. END OF VOLUME h f^ • SEP 22 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. K^O'-. Form L9-75m-7,'61(0l437s4)444 PR Burns - 4300' Complete works . " 19©9a BmOERY 5 £P K 1 PR 4300 1909a v.l 3 1158 00785 660 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY AA 000 366 713 6