BURNS MANUSCRIPTS* .WMmm;, ijpAppgv|Nui^in W///////ff/////////. presented to the LIBRARY ^UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA • SAN DIEGO by FRIENDS OF IIIF LIBRARY Dr. Allan D. Rosenblatt donor ^' U/uA/^i^urh^ X^nA^, /fXS^ // HOLOGRAPH MANUSCRIPTS IX TTTE > KILMARNOCK MONUMENT MUSEUM, WITH NOTES. COMPILED AND EDITED P.Y DAVID SXEDDOX. K I L M A n N O f K : 1*IU\1KI> BY D. BROWN h CO., (Successors to .Tamks M'Kie), 2 & KINO STRKKT. 1889. PRINTED BY T). BROWN & CO., (^urrKssoRs to .iamks m'kir), 2 & KING STRKKT, KII.MARNOCK. INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. The folloAving compositions of Eobert Burns, which are reproductions in print, verhatlm d literatim, of the holograph MSS. in the possession of the Burns Monument Museum Committee of Kilmarnock, are not submitted to the public as the best renderings of the text in existence, but simply as authoritative versions under the poet's own sign-manual, and, for that reason, of the greatest value for purposes of study and comparison. The first fifteen pieces formed the contents of the MS. volume referred to in the notes, which the poet began in the Autumn of 1785, as the first page informs us. This collection may therefore be taken as among the first that Burns ever made, prior to the MS. supplied for the 'first edition at Kil- marnock. Before purchase, the documents in every case were submitted to searching proof of their authenticity, and the history of each, so far as ascertained, will be found incorporated with the notes at the end of this volume. Every correction, variation, elision, and substi- tution has been faithfully set down, and the attention of the reader directed to it by italics and foot notes. ( iv. ) Where the text has been rendered incomplete by muti- Litions of the MSS. the ellipses have been supplied from Scott Douglas for the sake of continuity. All such additions are indicated by smaller type. The student of the works of our National Bard will thus readily discover for himself the distinguishing points of the Kilmarnock text, but for the benefit of the general reader we may indicate the chief of these. For ease of reference, the MSS. are mounted in glass, on moveable frames of brass and wood. They may be examined in the order in which they appear in this volume by beginning at the left hand within the museum, and going round the room towards the right. In the "Holy Fair," (No. 1) the variations in the names of the dramatis personm are referred to in the notes. In stanza 12, the line which appears " Wi' tidin's o' salvation" was afterwards, as is well known, changed to " Wi' tidin's o' damnation " on the suggestion of Dr. Blair. In Stanza 14, "Geordie begins " also reads " Smith opens out." In the portion of " Halloween " here preserved, there is no variation of importance from the generally-received version. In stanza 28, however, the third line reads more euphon- iously — "An' unco tales and funny jokes." ( V. ) The third line of the third stanza of the " Address tae the Diel " is usually printed "An' tlio' yon lowin heugh's thy hame." Both forms of stanza 1 1 are given, as also both of stanza 15, the deleted one in the latter containing his reference to Jean Armour before his rupture with her family. In " The Auld Farmer's Salutation" "Might aiblins waur't thee for a brattle," is usually substituted for the more obscure "Hight may be war't thee," &c., in stanza 10 of the text. The concluding stanza, as here printed, is usually inserted next the opening one, as the poet evidently intended by the asterisks. Stanza 18 shows an important variation from the usual version, which runs : — * * * * "I'll flit thy tether Tae some hain'd rig, There you may nobly rax your leather Wi' sma' fatigue." In "John Barleycorn," the opening lines of stanzas 3, 4, and 5, are thus varied : — "But the cheerfu' Spring cam' kindly on." * * Hi * * * * "The sultry suns o' Summer came." * » if * « » * "The sober Autumn entered mild." ( vi. ) 111 "Scotch Drink" the usual readiuti; of stanza 12 is 'O "Wae wortli tlie name, Nae howdie gets a social night Or plack frae them." The deletion of locality in stanza 3 of " Man was made to mourn," is referred to in the notes. The only other variation worthy of remark here is in stanza 8, the popular version being : "If I'm designed yon lordling's slave — By Nature's law designed." — In " The Twa Dogs," successive editors have altered lines 43-44, and 165-66 to "Until wi' daffin' weary grown, Upon a knowe tliey sat them down. «»*«*♦ "And clear the consequential sorrows, Love-gifts of Carnival signoras." The variations in " The Cottar's Saturday Night," arc nearly all verbal. In the last stanza — * * "in great, unhappy Wallace' heart." has been happily altered to * * " thro' Wallace's undaunted heart." ( vii. ) The expunged stanza on " Sodger Hugh," in " The Author's Earnest Cry," appears here. The first stanza of the postscript usually runs "Let half starved slaves in warmer skies See future wines, rich clusterin' rise." The third stanza of the "Address to J. Smith," beginning — "That auld, capricious carlin, Nature," does not appear in the Kilmarnock IMS. The date, be it observed, is 1785, not 1782 as most editions bear. It would seem, however, that 1786 is the proper date, the MS. volume beginning, as we have said, in the autumn of 1785, and having been written straight on to 178G. The month mentioned being January, a slip of the pen is probable. In " Poor ]\Iailie," line 47 is toned down in most editions, and " Our Bardie " substituted for " Poor Ptobin." The deleted stanza, in which appears the reference to "the Fairlie Lambs," is given in situ. " Holy Willie's Prayer" is treated of exhaustively in the notes; the verbal variations are easily noted. The seventh stanza of the " F.pistle to a Young Friend," which is seldom printed, will be found in the text. The variations in "Tam o' Shanter," and the '' Lament of Mary Queen of Scots," are too slight for mention in such a sketch as this. The student, however, will not fail to note, as curiosities, the expunged lines in the former poem. ( viii. ) To facilitate investigation of the text of the works of Burns is the main purpose of this publication, and it is hoped that it may render substantial aid to every earnest student. If the extinction of our native Doric be one of the possible contingencies of the future, all such efforts must be regarded as national labours of love, apart altogether from the fame of Burns. He Avill never die, yet it behoves all patriotic Scotsmen to take surety, by handing down a text intact and pure, that in whatever tongue posterity may read it, his "thoughts that breathe" shall find most fitting expression in " words that burn " like unto the original. Dean Cottage, Ktlmakxock, Ferruary, 1SS9. SCOTCH POEMS BY ROBT BURNESS. THE HOLY FAIR. Composed in Autumn, 1785. 1 Upon a simmer Sunday morn When Nature's face is fair, I walked forth to view the corn An' sniifF the callor air; The rising sun o'er Galston muirs Wi' glorious light was glentin, The hares were hirplan down the furs. The lav'rocks they were chantin Fix' sweet that day. 2 As lightsomely I glowr't abroad To see a scene sae gay, Three hizzies early at the road Cam skelpin up the way; Twa had manteeles o' dolefu' black. But ane wi' lyart linin. The third, that gaed a wee a back. Was in the fashion shinin Fu' gay that day. A ( 2 ) 3 The TWA appear'd like sisters twin In feature, form an' claes, Their visage, wither't lang an' thin. An' sour as ony slaes; The TRIED cam up, hap-step-an'-loup, As light as ony lambie, An' wi' a curchie low did stoop As soon as e'er she saw me Fu' kind that day. 4 Wi' bonnet afF, quoth I, sweet lass I think ye seem to ken me, I'm sure I've seen that bonie face But yet I canna name ye : Quo she, an' laughin as she spak, An' taks me by the hands. Ye for my sake hae gien the feck 0' a' the ten commands A screed some day. 5 My name is FUN, your crony dear, The nearest friend ye hae, An' this is SUPERSTITION here, An' that's HYPOCRISY; I'm gawn to M HOLY FAIR To spend an hour in daffin. Gin ye'll go there, yon runkl't pair We will get famous laughin At them this day. ( 3 ) 6 Quoth I, with a' my heart I'll do't, I'll get my Sunday's sark on, An' meet you on the holy spot, Faith we'se hae fine remarkin' ! Then I gaed hame at crowdie time, An' soon I made me ready, For roads were clad frae side to side Wi' mony a weary body In droves that day. Here farmers gash, in ridin graith, Gaed hoddan bye their cottars ; Their swankies young, in braw braid claith, Are springin o'er the gutters ; The lasses skelpan bare fit, thrang, In silks an' scarlets glitter, Wi' sweet-milk cheese in mony a whang, An' farls bak't wi' butter Fu' crump that day. 8 When bye the plate we set our nose, Weel heapet up wi' hapence, A greedy glowr BLACK BONNET throws An' we maun draw our tipence ; Then in we go to see the show. On ev'ry side they're gath'rin, Some carry in dails, some chairs an' stools. An' some are busy bleth'rin Kight loud that day. ( 4 ) 9 Here stands a shed to fend the show'rs An' screen our countra gentry, Bet Barb — r there, an' twa three wh — 'res, Sit blinkan at the entry ; Here sits a raw o' tittlan jads Wi' heavin breasts an' bare neck, An' there a batch o' wabster brands Blackguarding frae Kilm — rn — ck For fun this day. 10 Here some are thinkin on their sins. An' some upo' their claes, Ane curses feet that fyl'd his shins, Anither sighs an' prays ; On this hand sits an elect swatch Wi' screw't-up, grace-proud faces, On that, a set o' chaps on watch Thrang winkan at the lasses To chairs that day. 11 happy is that man an' blest, Nae wonder that it pride him ! Whase ain dear lass that he likes best Comes clinkan down beside him ! Wi' arm repos'd on the chair-back He sweetly does compose him, Which by degrees slips round her neck An's loof upon her bosom Unken't that day. ( 5 ) 12 Now a' the congregation o'er Is silent expectation, For Sawnie speels the holy door Wi' tidings o' salv — t — n, Should HORNIE, as in ancient days, 'Mang sons o' g — d present him, The very sight o' Sawnie's face To's ain liet hame had sent him Wi' fright that day. 13 Hear how he clears the points o' faith Wi' rattlin an' thumpin, Now meekly calm, now wild in wrath, He's stampin an' he's jumpin ; His lengthen'd chin, his turn't up snout, His eldritch squeel an' gestures, how they fire the heart devout Like Cantharidian plaisters On sic a day ! 14 But hark the tent has chang'd it's voice, Tliere's peace and rest nae langer, For a' the real judges rise Tliey canna sit for anger, Geordie begins his cauld harrangues On practice and on morals, An' aff the godly pour in thrangs To gie the jars an' barrels A lift that day. ( 6 ) 15 What signifies his barren shine Of MORAL POWERS an' REASON", His english style and gesture fine, Are a* clean out o' season; Like SOCRATES, or ANTONINE, Or some auld wicked heathen. The moral man he does define But ne'er a word o' faith in That's right that day. 16 In good time comes an antidote Against sic poison'd nostrum, For sairie Willie-water-fitt Ascends the holy rostrum ; See up he's got the word o' G — d An' meek an' mim has view'd it. While COMMON SENSE has taen the road An' aff, an' up the Cowgate Fast, fast, that day. 17 Wee M r niest the guard relieves An Orthodoxy raibles, The in his heart he weel believes An' thinks it auld wives fables; But faith the birkie wants a manse. So cannily he hums them, Altho his carnal wit an' sense Like hafflins-wise o'ercomes him At times that day. ( 7 ) 18 Now butt an' ben the change-house fills Vii' yill-caup COMMENTATORS, Here's cryin out for baiks an' gills, An' there the pint stoup clatters ; While thick an' thrang, an' loud an' lang, Wi' logic an' wi' scripture. They raise a din that in the end Is like to breed a rupture 0' wrath that day. (The next verse after the following ought to be in here). 20 Leeze me on drink it gies us mair Than either school or Colledge, It kindles wit, it Avakens lear, It pangs us fu o' knowledge. (The foUoicing, pinted in smaller type, has been abstracted from the original M.S. } Be't whisky-gill or penny-wheep, Or ony stronger potion. It never fails, on drinkin deep, To kittle up our notion By night or day. 19 The lads and lasses blythely bent To mind baitli saiil an body, Sit round the table, wecl content, And steer about the toddy. On this ane's dress, an' that ane's leuk. They're makin oliservations ; While some are cozic i' the neuk. An forming assignations To meet some day. ( 8 ) 21 But now the L 's ain trumpet touts, Till a' the hills are rairin, An' echoes back return the shouts ; Black 11 11 is na sparin: His piercin words like Highland swords, Divide the joints and marrow ; He talks o' H — 11, where devils dwell, Our vera " Sauls does harrow" Wi' fright that day. 22 A vast unbottom'd, boundless Pit, Fill'd fou o' lowan bruustane, Whase ragin flame and scorching heat. Wad melt the hardest whun-stane ; The half asleep start up wi' fear An' think they hear it roarin. When presently it does appear, 'Twas but some neebor snorin Asleep that day. 23 'Twad be owre lang a tale to tell, How mony stories past An' how they crowded to the yill, When they were a' dismist : How drink gaed round in cogs an' caups Amang the furms an' benches ; An' cheese an' bread, frae womens laps, Was dealt about in lunches. An' dawds that day. 24 In comes a gawsy, gash Guidwife, An' sits down by the fire, Syne draws her kebbuck an' her knife; The lasses they are shyer. The auld Gudeman, about the grace Frae side to side they bother. Till some ane by his bonnet lays An' gies them't like a tether Fu' lang that day. ( 9 ) 25 "Waesucks ! for him that gets nae lass, Or lasses that hae naething ! Sma' need has he to say a grace, Or melvie his braw claithin ! wives be mindfu' ance yoursel How bonie lads ye wanted, An' dinna, for a kebbuck heel, Let lasses be atironted On sic a day ! 26 Then Robin Gib, wi' weary jow. Begins to clink an croon ; Some swagger hame the best they dow, .Some wait the afternoon. At slaps the billies halt a blink, Till lasses strip their shoon : Wr faith an' hope, an' love an' drink They'e a' in famous tune For crack that day. 27 How many hearts this day converts O' sinners and o' lasses ! Their hearts o' stane, gin nicht are gane As saft as ony flesh is. There's some are fou o' love divine ; There's some are fou o' brandy ; An' mony jobs that day begun May end in Houghmagandie Some ither day. L E FIN ( 10 ) HALLOWE'EN. 1 Upon that night when Fairies light On Cassilis Downans dance, Or ower the lays, in splendid blaze, On sprightly coursers prance ; Or for Colean the rout is taen. Beneath the Moon's pale beams ; There, up the cove to stray and rove Amang the rocks an' streams To sport that night. 2 Amang the bonie winding banks ; Where Doon rins wimplin clear. Where BRUCE ance rul'd the martial ranks, An' shook his Carrick spear. Some merry, friendly countra folks Together did convene To burn their nits an pou their stocks, An' haud their Hallowe'en Fu' blythe that night. The lasses feat an' cleanly neat — Mair braw than when they're fine— Their faces blythe fu' sweetly kythe, Hearts leal an' warm an' kin' : The lads sae trig, wi' wooer — babs, Weel knotted on their garten. Some unco blate, an' some wi gabs, Gar lasses hearts gang startin Whyles fast that night. 4 Then first an' foremost, thro' the kail. Their stocks maun a' be sought ance ; They steek their ecu, an' grajje an' wale For muckle anes an' straught anes. Poor hav'rel Will fell afF the drift, An' wander'd thro' the Bow-Kail, An' pu't, for want o' better shift A runt was like a Sow-tail Sae bow't that night. ( 11 ) Then, straught or crooked, yirtl or nane. They roar an' cry a' throw'ther ; The vera wee-things toddlin rin Wi' stocks out ower their shouther : An gif the ciit STOCKS — the first ceremony of Halloween is pulling, each, a plant, or stock of kail — they go out with eyes shut, hand in hand, pull the first they meet with, according as it big or little, straight or crooked, so is the size or shape of the grand object in question — the HUSBAND or wife, the taste of the heart of the stem, or as it is called, the custock, indicates the disposition, and lastly the stems or runts are placed over the head of the door, and the names of the people whom chance brings into the house, according to the priority of placing the runts, are the najmes in question. STALKS 0' CORN — they go to the barn yard and pull, each, three corn stalks; if they want the top-grain or pickle the party in question wants the maidenhead. FAUSE HOUSE — a large hole the stack-builder makes in the side which is fairest exposed to the wind, if the corn is in a doubtful state for greeness or wetness. ( 19 ) BURNING THE NUTS — this is a favorite charm: they name the lad and lass to each particular nut, and according as they burn quietly together, or start from beside one another, the course and issue of the court- ship will be. BLUE CLEW — they go, all alone and throw into the pot, or bottom of the kiln a clue of blue yarn, they keep the end of the thread in their hand and wind the yarn in a new clue, off the old one which is in the pot, something will hold the thread towards the latter end — ask " Wha hands?" answer is returned by naming the person in question. EAT THE APPLE— they take a candle, and go to a looking-glass, and eat an apple, looking in the glass, the face of the husband or wife to be, is seen in the glass as if peeping over your shoulder. HEMP-SEED — take hemp-seed, steal out unperciev'd, sow it, harrow it, and repeat the words "hemp seed I saw thee, hemp seed I saw thee, and him {or her) who is to be my true-love come after me and povv thee," then look over your left shoulder and you will see the exact figure of the person desired, in the attitude of pulling hemp. THREE AVECHT 0' NAETHING— go out, all alone, to the barn, open both the doors, take them off the hinges, otherwise the aerial being about to appear may shut the doors and do some mischief to you, — take a wecht and go thro all attitudes of letting down corn against the wind, — do this three times, the third time, a being will pass thro the barn, in at the windy door and out at the other, it will have the figure in question, with the dress and retinue marking the station of life. ( 20 ) FATHOM THE STACK— go out and fathom three times round a bear stack, your last fathom, the third time, the desired object will be in your arms. DIPPING THE SHIRT SLIEVE— go out, one or more, to a south-running spring or burn, where, three Laird's lands meet, dip your left shirt slieve, go to bed that night in view of a fire, hang your wet slieve over a stool before the fire to dry, lye awake and sometime in the night the object in question will come and turn the shirt before the fire as if to dry the other side of the slieve. • LUGGIES THEEE— take three dishes, put foul water in one, clean water in another, and the third empty, blindfold a person and lead him to the hearth where the dishes must be placed, he (or she) dips a hand, if in the clean water, the husband or wife to be is a maid, if the foul, a widow, if the empty dish, it foretells no marriage at all, — it is repeated three times. BUTTER'D SO'ENS— sowens, with butter instead of milk to them is always the Halloween Supper. ( 21 ) ADDEESS TO THE DEIL. O thou, whatever title suit thee ! Auld Hornie, Satan, Nick, or Clootie, Wha in yon cavern grim an' sooty, Clos'd under hatches, Spairges about the brunstane cootie To scaud poor wretches. Hear me, auld Hangie, for a wee. An' let poor d mned bodies be ; I'm sure sma' comfort it can gie, Even to a deil, To skelp, an' scaud poor dogs like me An hear us squeel I Great is thy pow'r, an' great thy fame, Far-kend an' noted is thy name, An' tho yon liowe, het hole's thy hame Thou travels far ; An faith thou's neither lag nor lame, Nor blate nor scar. Whiles, ranging like a roaring lion For prey a' holes an' corners tryin ; Whiles on the strong-wing'd tempest flyin Tirlin the kirks ; Whiles in the human bosom pryin Unseen thou lurks. ( 22 ) I've heard my rev'rend Granie say, In lanely glens ye like to stray, Or where auld ruin'd castles, grey. Nod to the moon, Ye fright the nightly wand'rer's way With eldritch croon. When twilight did my granie summon To say her pray'rs, douse, honest woman, Aft yont the dyke she's heard you bummin With eerie drone, Or rustling thro the boortries comin Wi' heavy groan. Ae dreary, dowie winter-night, The stars shot down wi' sklenting light, Wi' you, mysel, I gat a fright Ayont the lough, Ye like a rash-buss stood in sight Wi' waving sugh. The cudgel in my nieve did shake. Ilk bristl'd hair stood like a stake. When with an eldritch, stoor quaick, quaick, Amang the springs, Awa ye squatter'd like a drake, On whislin wings. Let warlock's grim, an' wither'd hags Tell, how wi' you on ragweed nags They skim the moors an' dizzie craigs With wicked speed. And in kirk-yards renew their leagues Owre howket dead. ( 23 ) Thence, countra wives wi' toil an' pain May plunge, an' plunge the kirn in vain, For Och ! the yellow treasure's ta'en By wicket (* cantraip) skill ; An' dautiet, twal-pint Hankie's gane As yell's the bill. t Thence, knots are coosten, spells contriv'd, An' the brisk bridegroom, newly wiv'd Just at the kittle point arrived. Fond, keen, an' croose, Is by some spitefu' jad depriv'd O's warklum's use. When thowes dissolve the snawie hoord, An' float the jinglin, icy boord, Then water-kelpies haunt (* ply) the foord By your direction, An' nightly trav'llers are allur'd To their destruction. An' aft your moss-traversing spunkies Decoy the wight that late an' drunk is, The dancin, curst, mischievous monkeys Delude his eyes, Till in some miry slough he sunk is Ne'er mair to rise. When Mason's mystic word an' grip In storms an' tempests raise you up, Some cock, or cat, your rage maun stop Or, strange to tell ! The youngest brother ye wad whup Aff straught to H— 11. ( 24 ) t Langsyne, in Eden's happy scene, TFJien strappin' {*Adam's)Edie's days were green, An' Eve was like my honie Jean My dearest part^ A dancin, sweet., young, handsome quean, JFi' guileless heart : Then you, ye auld snick-drawin dog, Ye came to paradise incog, An' play'd on man a cursed brogue, Black be your fa', An' gied the infant warl a shog, Maist ruin'd a'. D'ye mind that day, when in a bizz, Wi' reiket duds, an' reestet gizz, Ye did present your ugly phiz Mang better folk, An' sklented on the Man of Uzz Your spitefu' joke. An' how ye gat him i' your thrall, An' brak him out o' house an' hal. While scabs an' botches did him gall Wi' bitter claw, An' lous'd his ill-ton gu'd, wicked scaul, Was warst of a'. But a' your doins to rehearse, Your wily snares an' fighting fierce, Sin that day Michael ** did you pierce Down to this time, Wad ding a' Lallan tongue or Erse, In prose or rhyme. a V. Milton Book 6th ( 25 ) An' now auld Cloots, I ken ye're tliinkin, That Robin's rantin, swearin, drinkin, Some luckless hour'll send him linkin To your black pit ; But faith he'll turn a corner jinkin An' cheat you yet. But fare-you-weel, auld Nickie-ben, wad ye tak a thought an' men' ! Ye aiblins might — I dinna ken — — Still hae a stake — I'm wae to think upo' yon den Even for your sake. Le fin. Langsyne in Eden's bonie yard Where youthfu' Lover's first were pair'd An' all the Soul of Love they shar'd The raptur'd hour, Sweet on the fragrant flow'ry swaird In * shady bow'r. a Vide Milton Thence mystic knots breed great abuse To young guidmen, fond, keen & croose ; « When the best warklum i' the house, By cantaip wit, Is made as useless as a louse, Just at the bit. * The Words set in Italic and within parenthesis, have been struck out by the poet in his M.S. t Tiie.so verses set in Italic are struck out by the poet and those at the end substituted apparently at a later date and at different times, the latter coming before the former, and written with different pens and ink. ( 26 ) THE AULD FAEMER'S New year morning salu- tation to his auld Meere, on givin her the accustom'd ripp o' corn to hansel in the New year A guid New year I wish you Maggie, Hae there's a ripp to thy auld baggie, Tho thou's howe-backet now, an' knaggie, I've seen the day Thou could hae gaen like ony staggie Out ower the lay. Thou ance was i' the foremost rank, A fillie buirdy, stieve, an' swank, An' set weel dow a shapely shank As e'er tread yird, An' could hae flown (* ganej out owre a stank Like ony bird. It's now some nine an' twenty year Sin thou was my guidfather meere ; He gied me thee o' tocher clear An' fifty mark, It was but sma', but weel-win gear. An' thou was stark. ( 27 ) When first I gaed to woo my Jenny Ye then was trottin wi' your minny, The ye was trickie, slee, an' funnie, Ye ne'er was donsie, But ham'ly tawie, quiet, an' canie An' unco sonsie. That day ye pranc'd wi' meikle pride When ye buir hame my bonie Bride ; An' sweet an' gracefu' she did ride Wi' maiden air ! Kyle-Stewart I could bragged wide For sic a pair. The' now ye dow but hoyte an' hobble, An* wintle like a saumont coble, That day ye was a j inker noble For heels an* win', An' ran them till they a' did waubble Far, far behin*. When thou an' I were young an* skiegh, An' stable-meals at fairs were driegh. How thou wad prance, an' snore, an' scricgh, An* tak the road ! Town's bodies ran an' stood abiegh. An' ca'd thee mad. When thou was corn't an' I was mellow, We took the road ay like a swallow : At BROOSES thou had ne'er a fellow For pith an' speed, But ev'ry tail thou pay'd them hollow Whare'er thou gaed. ( 28 ) The sma', droot-rumpl't hunter-cattle Hight may be wart thee for a brattle, But sax Scotch mile, thou try't their mettle, An' gart them whaizle ; Nae whup nor spur, but just a wattle O' saugh or hazle. Thou was a noble Fittie-lan As e'er in tug or tow was drawn ; Aft thee an' I, in aught hours gaun, On guid March-weather, Hae turn't five rood beside our han' For days thegither. Thou never braing't, an' fetch't, an' flisket, But thy auld tail thou would hae whisket, An' spread abreed thy weel-filled brisket Wi' pith an' pow'r, Till sprittie knowes wad rair't an' risket, An' slypet owre. When frosts lay lang, an' snaws were deep, An' threaten't labor back to keep, I gied thy cog a wee bit heap Aboon the timmer ; I ken't my Maggie wadna sleep For that or simmer. In cart, or car, thou never reestet, The steyest brae thou wad hae fac't it ; Thou never lap, an' sten't, an' breastet, Then stood to blaw ; But just thy step a wee-thing hastet, An' snoov't awa. ( 29 ) My pleugh is now thy bairn-time a ; Four gallant brutes as e'er did draw ; Foreby sax mae I've sell'd awa That thou has nurst : They drew me thretteen pund an' twa, The vera warst. Monie a sair daurk we twa hae wrought, An' wi' the weary warl fought ! An' monie an anxious day I thought We wad be beat ! Butf*Fe(j hereto weary age we're brought Wi' somethin yet. An' think na, my auld, trusty servan, That now perhaps, thou's less deservin An' thy auld days may end in starvin, For my last fow, A heapet stimpart, I'll reserve ane Laid by for you. We've worn to crazy years wi' ither. We'll toyte about, wi' ane anither, Wi' tenty care I'll flit thy tether, An' clap thy back, An' mind the days we've haen the gitlier, An' ca' the crack. Le fin. Tho now thou's dowie stiff an' crazy. An' thy auld hide as white's a daizie ; I've seen thee dappel't sleek an' glaizie, A bonic grey ; He should been tight that daur't to raise the. Ance in a day. ( 30 ) JOHN BAELEYCORN.— A BALLAD. There is an old Scotch song known by that name whose st two verses begin the of it runs thro the whole. first two verses begin the following, and the general idea 1 There was three kings into the east, Three kings both great an' high. An' they hae sworn a solemn oath JOHN BARLEYCORN should die. 2 They've taen a plough an' plough'd him down, Put clods upon his head, An' they hae sworn a solemn oath JOHN BARLEYCORN was dead. 3 The Spring-time came with kindly warmth, An' show'rs began to fall, JOHN BARLEYCORN got up again An' sore surpris'd them all. 4 The Summer came with sultry heat, An' he grew thick an' strong, His head well arm'd with pointed spears That no one should him wrong. ( 31 ) 5 The Autumn came with fresh'ning breeze, An' he grew wan an' pale ; His bending joints, an' drooping head, Show'd he began to fail. 6 His color sicken'd more an' more. He faded into age, An' then his ennemies began To show their deadly rage. 7 They took a weapon long an' sharp An' cut him by the knee ; They ty'd him fast ujion a cart Like a rogue for forgery. • 8 They laid him down upon his back, An' cudgel'd him full sore ; They hung him up before the storm, An' turn'd him o'er and o'er. 9 They filled up a darksome pit With water to the brim, They heaved in JOHN BARLEYCORN, There let him sink or swim. 10 They laid him out upon the floor To work him farther woe ; And still as signs of life appear'd They tost him to and fro. ( 32 ) 11 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 between two stones. 12 And they have ta'en his very heart's-blood And drank it round and round ; And still the more and more they drank Their joy did more abound. 13 JOHN BAELEYCOEN was a HERO bold, Of noble enterprize ; For if you do but taste his blood 'Twill make your courage rise. 14 '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. 15 Then let us toast JOHN BARLEYCORN Each one a glass in hand ; And may HIS GREAT POSTERITY NE'ER FAIL IN OLD SCOTLAND. ( 33 ) SCOTCH DKINK. Gie him strong driuk until he wiuk Wha's sinking in DESPAIR ; An' liquor guid, to fire his bluid, Wha's prest wi' grief an' (* or) care : There let (*them) him bowse, an', (*ivi'J deep carouse, Wi' bumpers flowing o'er ; Till he forgets his loves or debts, An' minds his griefs no more. Solomon. Proverbs 31 ch 6, 7. Let ither Poets raise a fracas 'Bout VINES an' wines an' druken bacchus ; An' crabbed names an' stories wrack us, An' grate our lug, I sing the juice SCOTCH BEAR can mak us In glass or jug. thou my Muse, guid, auld SCOTCH DRIXK ! AVhither thro wimplin worms thou jink. Or, richly brown, ream owre the brink In glorious faem, Inspire me till I lisp an' wink To sing thy name ! Let husky WHEAT the haughs adorn. And AITS set up their awnie horn. An' PEASE an' BEANS at een or morn Perfume the plain, Locze mo on thee JOHN BAKLEYCOPX, Thou King o' grain ! ( 34 ) On thee, aft Scotland cho-ws her cood, In soople scones, the wale o' food ; Or tumblina; in the boilins flood "\Vi' kail an' beef ; But when thou pours thy strong heart's-elood. There thou shines chief. Food fills the wame, an' keeps us livin, But life's a gift no worth recei%'in "When heavy-dragg'd vri' pine an' grieviii ; But, oil'd by thee, The wheels o' life sae do^vn-hill scrievin. AVi' rattlin glee. Thou clears the head o' doited LEAR, Thou chears the heart o' droojjing care, Thou strings the nerves o' labor SALR, At's weary toil, Thou even brightens dark DESPAIR Wi' gloomy smile. Aft clad in massy siller-weed AVi' gentles thou erects thy head ; Yet, humbly kind, in time o' need The poor man's vrine, His wee-drap pirratch, or his bread, Thou kitchens fine. Thou art the life o' pltjlic haunts. But thee, what were our fairs an' rants, Even godly meetings o' the saunts By thee inspir'd, AMien gaping they besiege the tents Are doubly fir'd. ( 35 ) That MERRY NIGHT, we get the corn in, O sweetly, then, thou reams the horn in ! Or reekin on a new year mornin In cog or bicker, An' Just a weep-drap sp'ritual burnin. An' gusty sucker ! "When VULCAN gies his bell3^s breath, An' ploughmen gather wi' their graith ; rare, to see thee fizz an' fraetli I' th' lugget cap ! Then BUEXEWIX comes on like death At ev'ry chap. Nae mercy, then, for airn or steel ; The brawny, banie ploughman-chiel. Brings hard owerhip, wi' sturdy wheel The strong forehammer, Till BLOCK an' STUDDIE ring an' reel Wi' dinsome clamour. "When skirlin weanies see the light Thou maks the gossips clatter bright, How fumblin coofs their dearies slight, "NVae worth them for't ! AVhile healths gae round to him wha, tight, Gies famous sport "When neebors anger at a plea, An' just as Avood as Avood can be. How easy can the BAKLF.Y-BREE Cement the quarrel ; It's ay the cheapest LAWYER'S FEE To taste the barrel. ( 36 ) Al:\ke, that e'er my MUSE has reason To \vyte her country men wi' treason ! But mony daily weet their weason "\Vi' liquors nice, An' hardly in a winter season E'er spier her price. Wae worth that BRANDY, burnin trash I Fell source o' mony a pain an' brash ! Twins mony a poor, doil't druken hash 0' half his da3's ; An' sends, beside, auld Scotland's cash To her warst faes. Ye Scots wha wish auld Scotland well. Ye chief, to you my tale I tell, Poor, plackless devils like mysel, It sets you ill TYi' bitter, dearthfu' wines to niell, Or foreign gill. ]\Iay GEAYELS round his blather wrench. An' GOUTS torment him inch by inch, "W'ha twists his gruntle wi' a gluuch 0' sour disdain, Out owre a glass o' WHISKY PUXCH "\Vi' honest men. WHISKY ! soul o' plays an' pranks ! Accept a BARDIE'S gratefu' thanks ; When wanting thee, what tuneless cranks Are my poor verses ! Thou comes, thej- rattle in their ranks At ither's a — ses. ( 37 ) Thee Ferintosh, sadly lost ! Scotland lament frae coast to coast ! Now colic-grips an' barkin lioast May kill us a', For loyal FORBES' CHARTER'D BOAST I ta'en awa ! * A verse vxtnting. A verse forgot in Scotch JDrinJc. Thae curst horse-leeches o' th' Excise, Wha mak the whiskie stills their prize ! Hand up they haun deil — ance, twice, thrice ; There, seize the blinkers, An' bake them up in brunstane pies For poor, damn'd drinkers. Fortune, if thou'll but gie mc still Hale breeks, a scone, an' whisky-gill, An' rowth o' rhyme to rave at will, Tak a' the rest, An' deal't about as thy blind skill Directs thee best. Le fin. " Tlu'se wonls in Italic aro in the Poet's writing on tlio Margin of tin- Ms. The ver.se jilluded to is found in a blank .si)ace at the oml of "Joha Kiirlcycorn," lint is here, for conveni»'nce in reading, properly placed, witU the note also in Italic, as written over it by Uurus. ( 38 ) A BALLAD. When chill November's surly blast Made fields and forests bare, One ev'ning as I Avander'd forth Along the banks of Aire I spy'd a man whose aged steis Seem'd weary, worn Avith care, His face was furrow'd o'er Avith years And hoary was his hair. Young stranger, whither wand'rest thou, Began the rev'rend sage, Does thirst of wealth thy step constrain. Or youthful pleasure's rage ; Or haply, prest with cares and woes, Too soon thou hast began To wander forth with me to mourn The miseries of MAN. ( 39 ) 3 Yon sun that hangs o'er CAERTCK MOOES That spread so far and wide, Where hundreds labor to support The lordly Cassilis pride ; I've seen yon weary winter-sun Twice forty times return, And ev'ry time has added proofs That Man was made to Mourn. Oh man, while in thy early years, How prodigal of time ! Mispending all thy precious hours, Thy glorious youthful prime ! Alternate follies take the sAvay, Licentious passions burn, AMiich tenfold force gives Nature's law, That Man was made to Mourn. Look not alone on youthful prime, Or manhoods active might ; Man then is useful to his kind, Supported is his right : Lut SCO him on the edge of life With cares and labors worn, Then age and want — ill-match'd pair ! Show Man was made to Mourn. ( 40 ) 6 A few seem favorites of fate, In fortune's lap carest ; Yet think not all the rich and great Are likewise truly blest : But ! what crouds in ev'ry land All "wretched and forlorn, Thro weary life this lesson learn That Man was made to Mourn ! Many and sharp the num'rous ills Inwoven with our frame ; More pointed still we make ourselves, Regret, remorse and shame : And man, whose heaven-erected face The smiles of LOVE adorn, Man's inhumanity to Man Makes countless thousands Mourn. See, yonder poor, o'er labor'd wight So abject, mean and vile, AVho begs a brother of the earth To give him leave to toil ; And see his lordly fellow-worm The poor petition spurn, Unmindful tho a Aveeping wife And helpless offspring mourn. ( 41 ) 8 If I am doom'd yon lordling's slave, By nature's hand design'd, Why was an independent Avish E'er planted in my mind ] If not, why am I subject to His cruelty, or scorn 1 Or why has man the will, or pow'r, To make his fellow Mourn t Yet let not this too much, my son, Disturb thy youthful breast ; This partial view of HUMAN KIND Is surely not the last I The poor, oppressed, honest man Had never, sure, been born Had there not been some recompence To comfort those that Mourn. 10 Death, the poor man's dearest friend, The kindest, and the best ! Welcome the hour my aged limbs Are laid with thee at rest ! The great, the wealthy, fear thy blow, From pomp and pleasures torn ; But Oh ! a blest relief for thosa That, weary-laden mourn ! Le fin. ( 42 ) THE TWA DOGS : A TALE. Twas in that place o' Scotland's isle That bears the name of auld King Coil, Upon a bonie day in June AVhen wearing thro the afternoon, TwA Dogs, that were na thrang at liame, Foregather't ance upon a time. The first I'll name, they ca't him Cesai:, Was keepet for His Honor's pleasure ; His hair, his size, his mouth, his lugs, Show'd he was nane o' Scotland's dogs, I>ut whelpet some place far abroad Where Sailors gang to fish for cod. His locket, letter't, braw brass-collar, Show'd him the gentleman an' scholar ; But, tho he was o' high degree, The fient a pride na pride had he. But wad hae spent an hour caressin Even wi' a tinkler-gipsey's messjfn : At Kirk or Market, Mill or Smiddie, Xae tawtiet tyke, tho e'er sac dudie, But he wad stan't, as glad to see him. An' stroan't on stanes an' hillocks wi' him. The tither was a ploughman's collie, A rhymin, rantin, ravin-billie, Wha for his friend an' comrade had him, And in his freaks had LUATH ca'd him : ( 43 ) After some dog in HIGHLAN SANG * Was made lang-syne 1 — d knows how lang. He was a gash an' faithfu' tyke As ever lap a sheugh or dyke ! His honest, sonsie, bawsen't face Ay gat him friends in ilka place : His breast was white, his towzie back AVeel clad wi' coat o' glossy black ; His gaussie tail, wi' upward curl, Hung owre his hurdles wi' a swirl. Nae doubt but they were fain o' ither, An' unco pack an' thick the gither ; Wi' social nose, whyles snuff't an' snowcket ; Whyles mice an' modeworks they howket ; Whyles scow'r't awa, in lang excursion, An' worry't itlier for diversion ; ♦Till tir'd at last wi' monie a farce They set them down upon their a — se, An' there began a lang digression About the LORDS o' \he CKEATIOX. CESAR. I've aften wonder't, honest LUATH, What sort o' life poor dogs like you have ; An' when the gentry's life I saw, What way poor bodies liv'd ava. Our Laird gets in his racket rents, His coals, his kaen 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 ; He draws a bonie, silken purse As lang's my tail, where tliro the stocks ( 44 ) The yellow, letter't Geordie keeks : Frae morn to een it's nought but toilin At bakin, roastin, fryin, boilin ; An' tho the Gentry first are steghin, Yet even the ha'-folk fill their peghin Wi' sauce, ragouts, an' sic like trashtrie, That's little short o' downright wastrie : Our u-hipperin, wee, blasted wouner, Poor worthless elf it eats a dinner Better than onie TENANT-MAN His HONOR has in a' the Ian' : An' what poor cot-folk put their painch in I own it's past my comprehension. LUATH. Trowth Cesar, whiles their fash'd enengh ; A Cotter howkin in a sheugh, Wi' dirty stanes biggin a dyke, Bairin a quarry, an' sic like ; Himsel, a Avife, he thus sustains, A smytrie o' wee, dudie weans. An' nought but his han-daurk to keep Them right an' tight in thack an' raep, An' when thev meet wi' sair disasters Like loss o' health, or want o' masters, Ye maist wad think, — a wee touch langer, An' they maun starve o' cauld an' hunger : But how it comes, I never kent yet, They're maistly wonderfu' contented : An' buirdly chiels, an' clever hizzies Are bred in sic a way as this is. ( 45 ) CESAR. But then to see how ye're negleket, How huff't an' cuff't an' disrespeket ; L d man, our gentry care as little For delvers, ditchers, an' sic cattle, They gang as saucy by poor folk As I would by a stinkin brock. I've notic'd on our LAIRD'S COURT-DAY, An' mony a time my heart's been wae ; Poor Tenant-bodies, scant o' cash, How they maun thole a Factor's snash ; He'll stamp an' threaten, curse an' swear. He'll apprehend them — poind their gear, "While they maun stand wi' aspect humble, An' hear it a' an' fear an' tremble. I see how folk live that hae riches. But surely poor folk maun be wretches. LUATH. There no sae wretched's ane wad think ; Tho constantly on poortith's brink, They're sae accustom't wi' the sight, The view o't gies them little fright. Then chance an' fortune are sae guided, They're ay in less or mair provided ; An' tho fatigu't wi' close employment, A blink o' rest's a sweet enjoyment. The dearest comfort o' their lives Their grushie weans, an' faithfu' wives, ( 46 ) The prattling things are just their pride That sweetens a' their fire-side. An whyles, twalpennie-worth o' nappy- Can mak the bodies unco happy ; They lay aside their j^rivate cares An' mind the kirk an' state affairs, Foretell what new taxation's comin, An' wonder at the folk in Lon'on. As bleak-fac'd Hallowmas returns, They get the jovial, rantin Kirns, When rural-life, in ev'ry station, Unites in common recreation ; Love blinks, Avit slaps, an' social Mirth Forgets there's care upon the earth. That merry day the year begins, They barr the the door on frosty win's ; The nappy reeks, wi' mantling ream. An' sheds a heart-inspiring steam ; The luntin pipe, the snishin mill, Are handed round wi' right good-will ; The cantie auld folk crackin crouse. The young anes rantin thro the house — My heart has been sae fain to see them That I for joy hae barket Avae them. Still it's owre true that ye hae said. Sic game is now owre aften play'd ; There's mony a creditable stock O' decent, honest, fawson't folk Are riven out baith root an' branch Some rascal's pridefu' greed to quench ; Wha thinks to knit himsel' the faster In favour wV some gentle master, Wha' aiblins, thrang a parliamenting For Britain's good his saul indenting — ( 47 ) CESAR. — Haith lad ye little ken about it, For BRITAIN'S GUID ! guid faith I doubt it. Say rather, gaun as PREMIERS lead him, An' saying aye, or noe's they bid him : At Operas an' Plays parading, Mortgaging, gambling, masquerading ; Or may be, in a frolic daft, To Haiiue or Calais takes a waft To make a tour an' take a whirl. To learn bon-ton an' see the work There, at Vienna, or Versailles, He rives his father's auld entails ; Or by Madrid he takes the rout, To play Guittares an' fight wi' nowt ; Or down Italian Vista startles, Whore-hunting amang groves o' myrtles : Then boAvzes drumlie German water To make himsel look fair an' fatter, An' purge the bitter ga's an' cankers O' curst Venetian bores an' shankers. For BRITAIN'S GUID ! for her destruction, Wi' dissipation feud an' faction. LUATH. Hech man ! dear Sirs ! is that the gate They spend sae mony a braw estate ! Are we sae foughten an' harrass't For gear to gan that way at last ! O ! would they stay aback frae Cour.TS An' please themsels wi' countra sports, It would for ev'ry ane be better, ( 48 ) The laird, the tenant, an' the cotter ; For thae frank, rantin, ramblin billies, Fient haet o' them's ill-hearted fellows ; Except for breakin o' their timmer, Or speakin lightly o' their limmer, Or shootin o' a hare or moor-cock, The ne'er a bit they're ill to poor-folk. But mil ye tell me, Master Cesar, Sure great-folk's life's a life o' pleasure ; Nae cauld or hunger e'er can steer them. The vera thought o't need na fear them. CESAR. L — d man, were ye but whyles where I am, The Gentles ye wad ne'er envy them. It's true, they need na starve or sweat Thro winter's cauld, or summer's heat ; They've nae sair wark to craze their banes, An' fill auld age wi' grips an' graens ; But human-bodies are sic fools, For a' their Colledges an' Schools, That when nae real ills perplex them. They make enow themsels to vex them : An' ay the less they hae to sturt them, In like proportion, less will hurt them. A countra fallow at his pleugh, His ACRE'S till'd, (*done) he's right eneugh ; A countra lassie at her wheel. Her DIZZEN'S done, she's unco weel ; But Gentlemen, an' Ladies warst, Wi' even-down WANT 0' WARK they're curst. They loiter, lounging, lank, an' lazy ; Tho deil-haet ails them, they're uneasy; ( 49 ) Their clays insipit, dull, an' tasteless; Their nights unquiet, lang an' restless. An' even their sports, like Balls an' races, An' galloping thro public-places, Ther's sic parade, sic pomp an' art, The joy can scarcely reach the heart. The Men cast out in party-matches. Then sowther a' in deep debauches ; Ae night they're mad wi' drink an' whoring Niest day their life is past enduring. The Ladies arm-in-arm in clusters, As great an' gracious a' as sisters ; But hear their absent thoughts of ither, They're a' run-diels an' jads the gither. Whyles owre the wee bit cup an' platie They sip the scandal-potion pretty ; Or lee-lang nights, wi' crabbed leuks. Pore owre the devil's pictur't beuks ; Stake on a chance a farmer's stackyard, An' cheat like ony unhang'd blackguard. There's some exceptions, man an' woman, But this is gentry's life in common. By this, the sun was out o' sight, An' darker glomin brought the night : The BUM-CLOCK hum'd wi' lazy drone ; The kye stood rowtin in the loan ; When up they gat, an' shook their lugs, Rejoic'd they were na men but dogs ; An' each took aff his sev'ral way, Resolv'd to meet another day. Le fin. ( 50 ) * THE COTTER'S SATURDAY-NIGHT. Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, Their homely joys, and destiny obscure ; Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the Poor. Gray's Elegy. * This Title and Verse from Gray's Elegy are, in the IMS., inserted iii a ppace close after "The Twa Dogs," then on the next page the follownig transcript of THE COTTER'S SATUEDAY-TEEN. Inscribed to Mr ROBERT AITKEN, Ayr. Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, Their homely joys and destiny obscure ; Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the Poor. Gray. My Lov'd, my honor'd, much respected friend, No mercenary Bard his homage pays ; With honest pride I scorn each selfish end, My dearest meed a friend's esteem and praise : To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays, The lowly train in life's sequester'd scene ; The native feelings strong, the guileless ways, What Aitken in a Cottage would have been ; Ah ! tho his worth unknown, far happier there I ween ! ( 51 ) November chill hlaws loud with angry sugh, The short'iiing winter-day is near a close, Tlie miry beasts retreating frae the pleugli, The black'ning flocks o' craws to their repose ; The toil-Avorn Cotter frae his labour goes, This night his weekly moil is at an end, Collects his spades, his mattocks and his hoes, Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend ; And weary o'er the moor his course does hameward bend. At length his lonely Cot appears in view. Beneath the shelter of an aged tree : The expectant wee-things, tottlin, stacher thro To meet their dad wi' flichterin noise an' glee, His wee-bit ingle, blinking bonilie, His clean heart-stane, his thrifty wifie's smile, The lisping infant prattling on his knee, Does a' his weary kiaugh an' care beguile, And makes him quite forget his labor an' his toil. Bclyve the elder bairns come drapping in. At service out amang the farmers roun' ; Some ca' the pleugli, some herd, some tentie rin A canie errand to a neebor toun : Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman-grown, In youthfu' bloom, love sparklin in her e'e. Comes hame perhaps to show a braw new gown, Or deposite her sair-won pcnnic-fee. To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be. (• 52 ) With joy unfeign'd brothers an' sisters meet, And each for other's welfare kindly spiers ; The social hours, swift-wing'd unnotic'd fleet ; Each tells the uncos that he sees an' hears. The parents, partial, eye their hopeful years, Anticipation forward points the view ; The mother, with her needle an' her sheers, Maks auld claes leuk amaist as weel's the new The father mixes a' with admonition due. Their master's and their misstress's command, The youngkers a' are warned to obey ; And mind their labor with an eydent hand. And ne'er tho out o sight, to jauk an' play. "And O, be sure to fear the Lord alway ! "And mind your duty duely, morn an' night ; " Lest in temptation's path ye gang astray, " Implore His counsel, an' asisting might : " They never sought in vain, wha sought the Lord aright !''' But hark, a rap comes gently to the door, Jenny, wha kens the meaning o' the same. Tells how a neebor lad cam o'er the moor To do some errands, an' convoy her hame. The wily mother sees the conscious flame Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, an' flush her cheek, With heart-struck, anxious care enquires his name. While Jenny haflins is afraid to speak ; Weel-pleased the Mother hears, itsnae wild, worthless rake. ( 53 ) With kindly welcome Jenny brings him ben ; A strappin youth, he takes the mother's eye : Blythe Jenny sees the visit's no ill-ta'en ; The father cracks of horses, pleughs an' kye : The youngster's witless heart o'erflows wi' joy, But blate an' laithfu', scarce can weel behave ; The mother, wi' a woman's wiles can spy What makes the youth sae bashfu' an' sae grave ; Weel-pleas'd to think her bairn's respected like the lave. O happy love ! where such en love is found ! heart-felt raptures ! bliss beyond compare ! I've paced long this Aveary mortal-round. And sage Experience bids me this declare. If Heaven a draught of Heavenly pleasure spare. One cordial in this melancholy vale, Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair In other's arms breathe out the tender tale, Beneath the milk-white thorn, that scents the ev'ninggale. 10 Is there in human form that bears a heart — A wretch ! a villain ! lost to LOVE and TEUTH ! That can with studied, sly, ensnaring art Betray sweet Jenny's unsus})ecting youth 1 Curse on his perjur'd arts ! dissembling smooth! Are Virtue, Conscience, Honor, all exil'd ] Is there no pity, no relenting ruth. Points to tlie Parents fondling o'er their child ! Then paints the rui?id maid, and their distraction wild ! ( 5i ) 11 But now the supper crowns their simple board, The healsome porritch, chief of Scotia's food ; The soupe their only IlaicJde does afford, That yont the haDan snugly chows her cood : The dame brings forth, in complimental mood, To grace the lad, her weel-hain'd kebbuck fell ; An' aft he's prest, an' aft he ca's it good, The frugal wifie, garrulous 'II tell How 'twas a towmond auld, sin lint was i' the bell. 12 The chearfu' supper done, with serious face, They round the ingle form a circle wide ; The Sire turns o'er, wi' Patriarchal grace, The big hcC-Uhle, ance his father's pride : His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside, His lyart haffets wearing thin and bare, Those strains that once did sweet in ZION glide, He wales a portion with judicious care ; And "LET US WORSHIP GOD" he says with solemn air. 13 They chant their artless notes in simple guise ; They tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim : Perhaps Dundee's Avild-warbling measures rise, Or plantive Martyrs, Avorthy of the name, Or noble Elgin beets the Heaven-ward flame, The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays : Compar'd with these, Italian trills are tame, The tickled ears no heart-felt raptures raise, Nae unison hae they with our CliEATOR'S praise. ( 55 ) 14 The priest-like father reads the sacred page, How Abram was the friend of God on' high ; Or Moses bade eternal warfare wage With Amalek's ungracious progeny ; Or how the royal Bard did groaning lye Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire ; Or Job's pathetic plaint and Availing cry : Or rapt Isiah's wild, seraphic fire ; Or other Holy Seers that tune the sacred lyre. 15 Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme, How Guiltless blood for guilty man was shed ; How He who bore in Heaven the second name, Had not on Earth " whereon to lay His head : " How His first followers and servants sped ; The precepts sage they wrote to many a land; How he who lone in Patnios banished, SaAV in the sun a mighty angel stand, And heard great Bab'lon's doom pronoune'd by Heaven's command. 16 Then kneeling down to Heaven's Eternal King, The saint, the father, and the husband prays ; Hope springs exulting on triumphant Aving, That thus they all shall meet in future days ; There, ever bask in uncreated rays, Xo more to sigh, nor 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. ( 56 ) 17 Compar'd with this, how poor religion's pride In all the pomp of method and of art, AVhen men display to congregations Avide Devotion's ev'ry grace except the heart ! The POWE, incens'd, the pageant will desert, The pompous strain, the sacredotal stole, But haply in some Cottage far apart May hear, well-pleas'd the language of the soul. And in his book of life, the inmates poor enroll. 18 Then homeward each 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 fiow'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. 19 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 kintrs, "An honest man's the noble work of God," And certes, in fair VIRTUE'S heavenly road. The Cottage leaves the Palace far Ijehind : What is a lordling's pomp ? a cumbrous load, Disguising oft the wretch of human kind, Studied in arts of hell, in wickedness refin'd. ( 57 ) 20 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 ! 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. 21 O thou ! who pour'd the patriotic tide That streamed in great, unhappy Wallace' heart ; Wha 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 ;) never, never SCOTIA'S realm desert, Ijut still the Patriot, and the Patriot-Bard, In bright succession raise her ornament and guard. Le fin. ( 58 ) THE AUTHOE'S EARNEST CRY AND PRAYER TO THE RT. HON^^.^ AND HON^.^^ THE SCOTCH REPRESENT- ATIVES IN THE HOUSE OF COM- MONS. Dearest of Distillation ! last and best ! How art thou lost ! — Milton. Ye Irish lords, ye knights and squires, Wha represent our BURGHS an SHIRES, An' dousely manage our affairs In Parliament, To you, a simple BARDIE'S pray'rs Are humbly sent. Alas ! my roopet Muse is hearse ! Your HONOR'S hearts wi' grief 'twad pierce To see her sitttin on her a — se, Low i' the dust, An' schriechin out prosaic verse. An' like to brust ! Tell them wha hae chief direction, Scotland an' me's in great affliction E'er sin they laid that curst restriction On Aqua-vitae ; An' rouse them up to strong conviction, An' move their pity. ( 59 ) Stand forth an' tell yon Premier Youtli The honest, open, naked truth ; Tell him o' mine an' Scotland's drouth. His Servants humble ; The muckle devil blaw jj^ou south If ye dissemble ! Does ony great man glunch an' gloom. Speak out an' never fash your thumb ; Let posts an' pensions sink or swoom Wi' them wha grant them ; If honestly they canna come, Far better want them. At gath'ring votes ye wasna slack, Now stand as tightly by your tack ; Ne'er claw your lug, an' fidge your back An' hum an' haw, I3ut raise your arm, an' tell your crack. Before them a'. Paint SCOTLAND greetin OAvre her thrisle ! Her mutchkin-stoup as toom's a whisle ; An' d — mn'd Excise-men in a busle Siezin a Still, Triumphant, crushin't like a mussle Or laimitit shell ! Then on the tither hand present her, A blackc-uard Smuu2;ler ri ) EOBT. BURNS. P.S. — A variety of other methods might be pointed out, and will easily occur to your reflection on the subject. E. B. ( 87 ) LASSIE WI' THE LINTWHITE LOCKS. Chorus Lassie wi' the lintwhite locks, Bonie lassie, artless lassie, Wilt thou Avi' me tent the flocks, Wilt thou be my dearie 0. Now Nature deeds the floAvery lea, And a' is young and sweet like thee ; O Avilt thou share its joys wi' me, And say thou'lt be my dearie 0. Lassie &c. The primrose bank, the wimpling burn, The cuckoo on the milkwhitc thorn, The wanton lambs at early morn Shall welcome thee my dearie 0. Lassie «S:c. And when the welcome simmer shower Has chear'd each drooping little flower. We'll to the breathing woodbine bower At sultry noon my dearie 0. Lassie &c. ( 88 ) When Cynthia h'ghts, wi' silver ray, The weary shearer's hameward way, Thro' yellow waving fields we'll stray And talk o* love my dearie 0. Lassie &c. And when the howling wintry blast Disturbs my lassie's midnight rest, Enfaulded to my faithfu' breast, I'll comfort thee my dearie 0. Lassie &c. ( 89 ) A BALLAD. Last May a braw wooer cam doon the lang gleii, And sair wi' his love he did deave me; I said, there was neathing I hated like men, The deuce gae wi'm to believe me, believe me, The deuce gae Avi'm to believe me. He spake o' the darts in my bonie black een, And vow'd for my love he was dying ; I said, he might die when he liked for Jean, The Lord forgie me for lying, for lying, The Lord &c. A weel-stocked mailin, himsel for the luird, And bridal off-hand, were his proffers; I never loot on that I kend it or car'd, But thought I might hae waur offers, waur offers, But thought &c. But what wad ye think I in a fortnight or less, Tlic deil tak his taste to gae near her ! He up the laug loan to my black cousin, Bess, fiuess ye how, the jade! I could bear her, could bear her, Ckiess &c. J>ut a' the neist week as I petted wi' care, I gaed to the tryste o' Dalgarnock, And wha but my fine fickle lover was there, I glowr'd as I'd seen a warlock, a warlock, I glowr'd &c. ( 90 ) But owrc my left shoulder I gae him a blink, Lest neebours might say I was saucy ; My wooer he caper'd as he'd been in drink, And vow'd I was his dear lassie, dear lassie, And &c. I spierd for my cousin fu' couthy and sweet, Gin she had recover'd her hearin, And how her new shoon fit her auld shachl'd feet, But Heavens ! how he fell a swearin, a swearin, But &c. He begged, for Gudesake ! I wad be his wife, Or else I wad kill him wi' sorrow ; So, e'en to preserve the poor body in life, I think I maun wed him tomorrow, tomorrow, I think I maun wed him tomorrow. Note as to Burns Manuscripts. The Letter tuas uritten hj the Poet ivhen he resided in Dumfries, and is addressed on the back to "David Staig, Esq. Provost of Dumfries,^' ivho was J gent for the Bank of Scotland in that Town. That Letter and the Manuscripts beginning "Lassie U'V the lint ivhite locks" and "Last May a brcm icooer cam doon the lang glen," luere delivered by Mr David Staig, liuttevant., Ireland, son of Provost Staig, to my deceased uncle, Edward Murray Dacre, Banker, Fermoy, Ireland, and by the latter bequeathed to me. Mr Dacre served his app'enticesiiip v'ith Provost Staig. WILLIAM D'ACPE ALDEP. Dumfries, 26 Ap-il, 1881. ( 91 ) TO MR EGBERT MUIR, KILMARNOCK. With a copy of " The Calf." (Cunningham, 1834.) My Friend imy Brother. — Warm recollection of an absent Friend presses so hard on my heart, that I send him the prefixed bagatelle, pleased with the thought that it will greet the Man of my bosom, and be a kind of dis- tant Language of Friendship. You will have heard that poor Armour has repaid my amorous mortgages double. A very fine boy and girl have awakened a thought and feelings that thrill, some with tender pressure, and some Avith foreboding anguish, thro' my soul. The poem was nearly an extemporaneous production, on a wager with Mr Hamilton that I would not produce a poem on the subject in a given time. If you think it worth while, read it to Charles [Samson], and Mr Wm. Parker; and if they chuse a copy of it, it is at their service, as they are men whose friendship I shall be proud to claim, both in this world and that which is to come. I believe all hopes of staying at home will be abortive, but more of this when, in the latter end of next week, you shall be troubled with a visit from — my Dr Sir, your most devoted, MossGiEL, Friday Noon. [ EOBT. BURNS. ..} ( 92 ) TO MR ROBERT AINSLIE, EDINBURGH. Ellisland, SOth June, 1788. My dear Sir, — I just now rec'd your brief Epistle ; and to take vengeance on your laziness, I have, you see, taken a long sheet of writing paper, and begun at the top of the page, intending to scribble on to the very last corner. I am vexed at that affair of the girl, but dare not en- large on the subject until you send me your direction, as I suppose that Avill be altered on your late Master and Friend's death. I am concerned for the old fellow's exit, only as I fear it may be to your disadvantage in any respect — for an old man's dying ; except he have been a very benevolent character, or in some particular situation of life, that the Avelfare of the Poor or the Helpless depended on him, I think it an event of the most trifling moment to the world. Man is naturally a kind, benevo- lent animal, but he is dropt into such a daran'd needy situation here in this vexatious world, and has such a whoreson, hungry, growling, multiplying pack of Neces- sities, Appetites, Passions, and Desires about him, ready to devour him for want of other food; that in fact he ynust lay aside his cares for others that he may look properly to himself. Every One, more or less, in the words of the old Scots Proverb "Has his cods in a ( 93 ) cloven stick, and maun wyse them out the best ■way he can." You have been imposed upon in paying Mr Miers for the profile of a Mr Hamilton. I did not mention it in my letter to you, nor did I ever give Mr Miers any such order. I went once, indeed, Avith young Hamilton of B , to shew him some profiles I was getting done for Mrs BLACKLOCK, and he sat to Miers of his own accord to send it as he said to a SAveetheart; but for my own part, I would as soon think of ordering a Profile of Tibby Nairn or Julie Rutherford as of such a contemp- tible puppy as H . I beg you will take the trouble to return the profile to Mr Miers: I have no objection to lose the money, but I won't have any such Profile in my possession. I desired the Carrier to pay you, but as I men- tioned only 15sh. to him, I will rather inclose you a guinea note. I have it not indeed to spare here, as I am only a sojourner in a strange land in this place; but in a day or two I return to Mauchline, and there I have the Bank- notes through the house like salt permits. There is a great degree of folly in talking unnecessarily of one's private affairs. I have just now been interrupted by one of my new neighbours, who has made himself abso- lutely contemptible in my eyes by his silly, garrulous })ruriency. I know it has been a fault of my own too ; but from this moment I abjure it as I would the service of Hell ! Your Poets, spendthrifts, and other fools of that kidney, pretend forsooth to crack their jokes on Prudence; but 'tis a squalid Vagabond glorying in his rags. Still, Imprudence respecting money-matters is much more par- donable than imprudence respecting character. I have no objection to prefer prodigality to avarice, in some few instances ; but I appeal to your observation, if you have not met, and often met, with the same disengenuousness, the same hollow-hearted insincerity, and disintegritive^ ( 94 ) depravity of principle, in the hackneyed victims of Pro- fusion, as in the unfeeling children of Parsimony. I have every possible reverence for the much-talked-of world beyond the Grave, and I wish that which Piety believes, and Virtue deserves may be all matter of fact ; but in things belonging to, and terminating in this present scene of Existence, man has serious and interesting business on hand. Whether a man shall shake hands Avith Welcome in the distinguished elevation of Respect, or shrink from Contempt in the abject corner of Insignificance. Whether he shall wanton under the Tropic of Plenty, at least, enjoy himself in the comfortable latitudes of easy Convenience, or starve in the Arctic circle of dreary Poverty. Whether he shall rise in the manly consciousness of a self-approving mind, or sink beneath a galling load of Regret and Remorse — these are alternatives of the last moment. — You see how I preach, — You used occasionally to sermonize too ; I wish you would, in charity, favor me with a sheet full in your own way. At any rate write me with your convenience, to let me know your direction. I admire the close of a letter Lord Bolingbroke writes to Dean Swift : " Adieu, dear Swift ! with all thy faults I love thee entirely ; make an effort and love me with all mine ! " Humble servt., and all that trumpery, is now such a perversion, such a Sodomy of Language, that Honest Friendship, in her sincere way, must have recourse to her primitive, simple — Farewell ! R. B. P.S. — I am a subscriber to Ainslie's large map of Scotland, if you are in the shop, please ask after the progress ; and when published, secure me one of the earliest Impressions of the Plate. Forgive me for all this trouble. — I seldom see a Newspaper, so do not know the state of Publications, the Stage, «&;c. R. B. ( 95 ) HOLY WILLIE'S PRAYER. And Send the Godly in a pet to pray. — Pope. Thou that in the heavens does dwell ! Wha, as it pleases best Thysel, Sends ane to heaven and ten to h — 11, A' for Thy glory ; And no for ony guid or ill They've done before Thee ! 1 bless and praise Thy matchless might, When thousands Thou has left in night. That I am here before Thy sight, For gifts and grace, A burning and a shining light, To a' this place. "What was I, or my generation, That I should get such exaltation ? I, who deserv'd most just damnation For broken laws, ►Sax thousand years ere my creation Thro' Adam's cause. Yet I am here, a chosen sample. To show Thy grace is great and ample ; I'm here, a pillar o' Thy temple. Strong as a rock ; A guide, a ruler and example To a' Thy flock. ( 96 ) But j^et, L — d, confess I must, At times I'm fash'd wi' fleshly lust ; And sometimes too in Avarldly trust Vile Self gets in : But Thou remembers we are dust, Defil'd wi' sin. O L — d yestreen Thou kens wi' Meg- Thj' pardon I sincerely beg : O, may't ne'er be a livin plague, To my dishonor ! And I'll ne'er lift a lawless leg Again upon her ! Besides, I further maun avow, AVi' Leezie's lass three times 1 trow- But L — d, that Friday I Avas fou When I cam near her ; Or else. Thou kens, Thy servant true Wad never steer her. Maybe Thou lets this fleshly thorn Buffet Thy servant e'en and morn Lest he owre proud and high should turn That he's sae gifted : If sae, Thy hand maun e'en be borne Untill Thou lift it. L — d bless Thy Chosen in this place. For here Thou has a Chosen race ; But G — d confound their stubborn face And blast their name, Wha bring their rulers to disgrace And public shame. ( 97 > L — (1 mind Gaun Hamilton's deserts ; He drinks, and swears, and plaj's at cartes, Yet has sae mony taking arts Wi' Great and Sma', Frae G — d's ain Priest the people's hearts He steals awa. And when we chasten'd him therefore Thou kens how he bred sic a splore, And set the warld in a roar 0' laughin at us : Curse Thou his basket and his store. Kail and potatoes. L — d hear my earnest cry and pray'r Against that Presbytry of Ayr ! Thy strong right hand, L — d mak it bare Upo' their heads ! L — d visit them and 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 I sat, sweatin, shakin, And pish'd wi' dread, While Auld wi' hingin lip gaed sneakin And hid his head. L — d in Thy day o' vengeance try him ! L — d visit him wha did employ him ! And pass not in Thy mercy by them, Nor hear their prayer. But for Thy people's sake destroy them, And dinna spare I a ( 98 ) But L — d remember me and mine AVi' mercies temporal and di\^ne ; That I for grace and gear may shine, Excell'd by nana ! And a' the glory shall be Thine, AMEN! AMEN! ( 99 ) OCCASIONAL ADDRESS, SPOKEN BY MISS FONTENELLE ON HER BENEFIT-NIGHT, DECR. 4th, 1793. — WEITTEX BY MR. BUHXS. DUMPRIES THEATRE. Still anxious to secure your partial favor, And not less anxious sure, this niglit than ever, A Prologue, Epilogue, or some such matter, 'Twould vamp my Bill, thought I, if nothing better j So, sought a Poet, roosted near the skies. Told him, I came to feast my curious eyes ; .Said, nothing like his "works was ever printed, Ai\i\ last, my Prologue-business, slily hinted. Ma'am, let nic tell you, quoth my Man of Eliymes, I know your bent — these are no laughing times ; Can you, but Miss, I own I have my fears, Dissolve in pause — and sentimental tears — AVith laden sighs, and solemn-rounded sentence, Itouse from his sluggish slumbers, fell Repentence ; Paint Vengeance, as he takes his horrid stand, AVaving on high the desolating brand, Calling the storms to bear him o'er a guilty Land ! I could no more — askance the creature eyeing. D'ye think, said I, this face was made for crying 1 I'll laugh, that's pos — nay more, the world shall know it ; And so, your servant, gloomy Master Poet. ( 100 ) Firm as my creed, Sirs, 'tis my fix'd belief, That Misery's another word for Grief : I also think — so may I be a Bride ! That so much laughter, so much life enjoy 'd. Thou man of crazy care, and ceaseless sigh, Still under bleak Misfortune's blasting eye ; Doom'd to that sorest task of man alive — To make three guineas do the work of five ; Lausfh in Misfortune's face — the beldam witch ! O Saj, you'll be merry — tho' you can't be rich. Thou other man of care, the wretch in love, Who long with jiltish arts and airs hast strove ; Who, as the boughs all temptingly project, Measur'st, in desp'rate thought — a rope — thy neck — Or, where the beetling cliffs o'erhang the deep Peerest, to meditate the healing leap : For shame ! for shame ! I tell thee, thou art no man : This for a giddy, vain, capricious woman ? A creature, though I say't, you know, that should not ; Eidiculous with her idiot, " Would and Would not." Wouldst thou be cur'd, thou silly, moping elf? Laugh at her follies ; laugh e'en at thyself : Learn to despise those frowns, now so terrific ; And love a kinder — that's your grand specific I To sum up all — be merry ! I advise ; And as we're merry, may we still be wise. ( 101 ) EPISTLE TO A YOUNG FKIEND. :Mossgiel, loth May, 1786. I LANG liae thought, my youthfu' friend, A something to have sent you, Tho' it should serve nae other end, Than just a kind memento: But how (*ichatj the subject-theme may gang, Let time an' chance determine; Perhaps it may turn out a Sang; Perhaps, turn out a Sermon, Ye'll try the world soon, my lad, An' ANDREW dear believe me, Ye'll find mankind an unco squad, An' muckle they may grieve ye. For care an' trouble set your thought, Ev'n when your view's attained; An' a' your schemes may come to nought Where ev'ry nerve is strained. Yet they wha fa' in Fortune's strife. Their fate we should na censure; For still th' IMPORTANT END o' Life Tliey equally may answer: A man may liac an honest heart, Thu' Poortith hourly stare him; A man may tak a ueebor's part, Yet hae nae Cash to spare him. * Cancelleil in the MS. ( 102 ) I'll no say, men are villains a' ; The real, harden'd wicked, Wlia liae nae check but human law, Are to a few restric'ed : But gen'rally, mankind are weak. An' little to be trusted ; If Self the Avavering balance shake. It's rarely right adjusted. Ay, free, afF-han', your story tell. When wi' a bosom crony ; But still keep something to yoursel, Ye scarcely tell to ony. Conceal yersel as weel's ye can, Frae critical dissection ; But keek thro' ev'ry other man, Wi' sharpen'd, sly inspection. The sacred lowe o' weel-placed LoYE, Luxuriantly indulge it; But never tempt th' illicit rove, Tho' naething should divuldge it. I wave the quantum o' the sin ; The hazard of concealing ; But Och ! it hardens a' within, And petrifies the feeling ! If ye hae made a step aside. Some hap-mistake o'ertaen you, Yet, still keep up a decent pride. An' ne'er owre far demean you. Time comes wi' kind, oblivious shade, An' daily darker sets it ; An', if na-mae mistakes are made, The world soon forgets it. ( loa ) To catch Dame Fortune's golden smile, Assiduous wait upon her ; An' gather gear by ev'ry wile That's justifi'd by Honor. Not for to hide it in a hedge, Nor for a train-attendant, But for the glorious priviledge Of being independant. The fear-o'-Hell's a hangman's whip To haud the wretch in order, But where you feel jour HoNorw grip. Let that ay be your border. The slighest touches, — instant pause^ Debar a' side-pretences. An' resolutely keep its Laws, Uncaring consequences. The Great CEEATOR to revere. Must, sure, become the creature, But still the preaching-cant forbeai', An' ev'n the rigid feature. Yet ne'er with Wits prophanc to range. Be complaisance extended; An atheist-laugh's a poor exchange For Deity offended! When ranting round in Pleasure's ring, lieligion may be blinded; Or if she gic a random-sting, It may be little minded: But when on Life we're tempest-driv'n, A Conscience butt a canker — A Correspondence fix'd wi' Heav'n — Is sure a noble anchor ! ( 104 ) Fareweel ! dear, amiable j'-outli! Your HEART can ne'er be wanting : IMay Prudence, Fortitude an' Truth Erect your brow undaunting ! In ploughman-phrase " GOD send you speed,' Still daily to grow wiser; An' may ye better reck the rede, Than ever did th' Adviser ! KOBt. BUENS. ( 105 ) TAM 0' SHANTEK. A TALE. When chapmen billies leave the street, And drouthy neebors, neebors meet ; As market-days are wearing late, And folk begin to take the gate ; While we sit bowsing at the napp}', And getting fou, and unco happy, "We think na on the lang Scots miles, The mosses, waters, slaps and styles, That lie between us and our hame, "Where sits our sulky sullen dame. Gathering her brows like gathering storm, Xursing her wrath to keep it warm. This truth fand honest Tam o' Siiantek, As he frae Ayr ac night did canter : (Auld Ayr, whom ne'er a town surpasses, For honest men, and bonie lasses.) Tam ! hadst thou but been sae wise, As taen thy ain wife Kate's advice ! .She tauld thee weel thou was a skellum ; A blethrin, blusterin, drunken blellum : ( lOG ) That frae Xovember till October, Ae market-day thou was na sober : That ilka melder, wi' the miller, Thou sat as lang as thou had siller : That every naig was ca'd a shoe on, The smith and thee gat roarin fou on : That at the L — d's house, even on Sunday, Thou drank wi' Kirkton Jean till Monda}". She prophesied, that late or soon. Thou wad be found, deep drown'd in Doon ; Or catch'd wi' warlocks in the mirk, By Aloway's auld, haunted Kirk. Ah, gentle dames ! it gars me greet, To think how mony counsels sweet. How mony lengthen'd, sage advices, The husband frae the wife despises ! But to our tale : ae market night, Tam had got j)lanted unco right ; Fast by an ingle, bleezin finely, AVi' reaming swats that drank divinely : And at his elbow, Souter Johnie, His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony ; Tam lo'ed him like a very brither, The}' had been fou for weeks thegither. The night drave on wi' sangs and clatter, And ay the ale was grooving better : The landlady and Taji grew gracious, Wi' secret favors, sweet and precious : The Souter tauld his queerest stories ; The landlord's laugh was ready chorus : The storm without might rair and rustle, Tam did na (*carej mind the storm a whistle. * Cancelled in the MS. ( 107 ) J Care, mad to see a man sae liappj^, X E'en drown'd himsel amang the nappy : As bees flee liame, ( '^laden ici'J Avi' lades o' treasure, (*llk) The minutes wing'd (*its) their Avay wi' pleasure Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious, O'er a' the ills o' life victorious ! But Pleasures are like poppies spread, You sieze the flower, its bloom is shed ; Or like the snow, falls in the river, A moment white, then melts for ever ; Or like the Borealis' race, That flit ere j- ou can point their place ; Or like the rainbow's lovely form, Evanishing amid the storm : Nae man can tether Time or Tide, The hour approaches Tam maun ride ; That hour, o' Xight's black arch the key-stane, That dreary hour Tam {*taks) mounts his beast in ; And sic a night (*Tam) he took the road in, As ne'er poor Sinner was abroad in. The wind blew as 'tAvould blawn its last, The rattling showers rose on the blast. The speedy gleams the darkness swallowed, Loud, deep, and king, the thunder bellowed : That night, a child might understand The deil had business on his hand. "Weel mounted on his grey meare, JNIeg, A better never lifted leg, Tam skelpit on thro' dub and mire. Despising wind, and rain, and fire ; t Tliesc two lines aio written on the margin of the MS. * Cancelled in the MS. ( 108 ) Whiles liolding fast his gude blue bonnet ; Whiles crooning o'er an aukl Scots sonnet ; Whiles glowring round wi' anxious cares, Lest bogles catch him unawares : Kirk-Aloway was drawing nigh, Where ghaists and houlets nightly cry. By this time he was cross the ford, Where in the snaw the chapman smoor'd ; And past the birks, and meikle stane, Where drunken Charlie brak 's neck-bane ; And thro' the whins, and by the cairn. Where hunters fand the murder'd bairn ; And near the (*tree) thorn, aboon the well, Where Mungo's mither hang'd hersel': — Before him DoON pours all his floods ; The doubling storm roars thro' the Avoods ; The lightnings flash frae pole to pole ; Near, and more near, the thunders roll : When, glimmering thro' the groaning trees, Kirk-Aloway seem'd in a bleeze ; Thro' ilka bore the beams were glancing. And loud resounded mirth and dancing. Inspiring, bold John Barleycorn ! What dangers thou canst make us scorn ! Wi' tippeny, we fear nae evil ; Wi' usquabae, we'll face the devil! The swats sae rcam'd in T^\3IMIe'.s noddle. Fair play, he car'd na deils a boddle ; But Maggy stood, right sair astonish'd, Till, by the heel and hand admonish'd. She ventured forAvard on the light. And, AVOW, Tam saw an unco sight! * Cancelled in the MS. ( 109 ) "Warlocks and witches in a dance, Nae cotillon brent new frae France, But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels, Put life and mettle in their heels. A winnock-bunker in the east, There sat auld Nick in shape o' beast : A towzie tyke, black, grim, and large, To gie them music was his charge : He screw'd the pipes and gart them skirl, Till roof and rafters a' did dirl. — f*The torches clivib around the v:a\ Infernal fires, Uue-Ueezing a' ;) ''Coffins stood round, like open presses, "That shaw'd the Dead in their last dresses ; "And (by some devilish cantraip slight,) "Each in its cauld hand held a light. — By which heroic Tam was able To note upon the haly table ; A murderer's banes, in gibbet-airns ; Twa span-lang, wee, unchristen'd bairns ; A thief, new-cutted frae a rape, Wi' his last gasp his gab did gape ; Five tomahawks wi' blude red-rusted ; Five scymitars wi' murder crusted ; ( *Seven gallons pins ; three hangman's vhifllcs : A raw o' weel seal'd Doctors' Lotties ; ) A garter, which a babe had strangled ; A knife a father's throat had mangled, Whom his ain son of life bereft. The gray-hairs yet stack to the heft : Wi' mair of horrible and awefu', Which even to name wad Ijc unlawfu'. a Tliese four lines are on the margin of tlio MS. anil were substituted by tlie Poet for his precuetliiii; two lines in Italic. * CancuUoil in the MS. ( 110 ) Three Lawj^ers' tongues, tiirn'tl inside out, "Wi' lies seam'd like a beggar's clout ; Three Priests' hearts, rotten black as muck, Lay stinking, vile, in every neuk. As Tam.aite glowr'd, amazed, and curious, The mirth and fun grew fast and furious ; The Piper (*quick arid quicker) loud and louder blew, The Dancers quick and quicker flcAv; They reel'd, they set, they cross'd, they cleekit, Till ilka Carlin swat and reekit, And coost her duddies on the wark. And linket at it in her sark! 'Now Tam ! Tam ! had thae been queans, A' plump and strappin in their teens ! Their sarks, instead o' creeshie flainen, Been snaw- white, seventeen-hunder linnen; Thir breeks o' mine, my only pair, That ance wore plush o' gude blue hair, I wad hae gien them off" my hurdles, For ae blink o' the bonie burdies ! But wither'd beldams, auld and droll, Rigwoodie hags wad spean a foal, Loupin an flingin on a crummock, I wonder did na turn thy stomach. But Tam kend what was what fu' brawlie ; There was ae winsome wench and walie, That night enlisted in the core, (Lang after kend on CAiiRiCK-shore ; For mony a beast to dead she shot, And perish'd mony a bonie boat. And shook baith meikle corn and bear. And kept (held) the Country-side in fear :) * Cancelled in the MS. ( 111 ) Her cutt3^-sark o' Paisley harn, That Avhile a lassie she had worn, In longitude the' sorely scanty, It was her best, and she Avas vauntie. — Ah, little thought thy reverend graunie, That sark she coft for her wee Nannie, Wi' twa pund Scots, ('twas a' her riches,) Should ever grac'd a dance o' witches ! But here, my Muse her wing maun cour, Sic flights are far beyond her power ; To sing, how Nannie lap and flang, (A souple jad she was, and Strang ;) And how Ta^i stood, like ane bewitch'd, And thought his very een enrich'd ; Even Satan glowr'd, and fidg'd fu' fain. And hotch'd and blew wi' might and main : Till, first ae caper, syne anither, Ta:m lost his reason a' thegither, And roars out, — "Weel done, Cutty-sark 1" And in an instant all was dark : And scarcely had he Maggie rallied, When out the hellish legion sallied. As bees bizz out, wi' angry fyke, "When plundering herds assail their bykc ; As open Pussie's mortal foes, When, pop, she starts before their nose ; As eager runs the market-croud, When, "catch the thief! " resounds aloud ; So flaggy runs, the witches follow, Wi' inony an eldritch skriech and hollow. Ah, Ta:^i ! Ah, T.ni ! thou'll get thy fairin ! In hell they'll roast thee like a herrin ! ( 112 ) In vain, thy Kate awaits thy coniin ! Kate soon will be a woefu' woman ! 'Sow, do thy speedy utmost, Meg, And win the key-stane o' the brig ; There, at them thou thy tail may toss, A running stream they dare na cross : But ere the key-stane she could make, The fient a tail she had to shake ! For Xannie, far before the rest, Hard upon noble Maggy prest, And flew at Tam wi' furious ettle, But little (kend) wist she Maggy's mettle ; Ae spring brought off her master hale, But left behind her ain gray tail : The Carlin claught her by the rump, And left poor Maggie scarce a stump. Now, wha this Tale o' truth shall read, Each Man and mother's son take heed : AVhene'er to Drink you are inclin'd, Or Cutty-sarks rin in your mind. Think, ye may buy the joys o'er dear, licmember Tam-o'-Shanter's meare. ( 113 ) LAMENT OF MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS. Now Nature hangs her mantle green, On every (*spreadhig) blooming tree; And spreads her sheets o' daisies white, Out o'er the grassy lea : Now Phebus chears the crystal streams, And glads the azure skies, But nought can glad the weary wight That fast in durance lies. Now laverocks wake the merry morn, Aloft on dewy wing; The merle, in his noontide bower, Makes woodland echoes ring : The mavis mild, wi' mony a note, Sings drowsy day to rest : In love and freedom they rejoice, Wi' care nor thrall opprest. • Cancelled in tbo MS. H ( 114 ) 3 Now blooms the lily by the bank, The primrose down the brae ; The hawthorn's budding in the glen, And milk-white is the slae : The meanest hind in fair Scotland May rove these sweets amang, But I, the Queen of a' Scotland, Maun lie in jDrison strong. I was the Queen o' bonie France, Where happy I hae been; Fu' lightly rose I on the morn, As blythe lay doon at e'en : And I'm the Sovereign of Scotland, And mony a traitor there ; Yet here I lie in foreign bands. And never-ending care. But as for thee, thou false woman. My sister and my Fae, Grim Vengeance yet shall whet a sword That thro' thy soul shall gae! The weeping blood in woman's breast Was never known to thee; Nor th' balm that (* melts at) drops on wounds of woe Frae woman's pitying e'e. * Cancelled in the MS. ( 115 ) 6 My son, My son, may kinder stars Upon thy fortune shine ! And may those pleasures gild thy reign, That ne'er wad blink on mine ! God keep thee frae thy Mother's faes, Or turn their hearts to thee ! And where thou meet'st thy Mother's friend, Kemember him for me ! soon, to me, may summer-suns Nae mair light up the morn ; Nae mair the winds of Autumn wave Across the yellow corn ! And in the narrow house of Death Let ^Yinte^ round me rave ; And the next flowers that deck the spring, Bloom o'er my peaceful grave ! *IIow gracefully Maria leads the dance. She's life itself. I never saw a foot So nimble and so eloquent. — It speaks, And the sweet whispering Poetry it makes Shames the musician. — Adriano, or, The first of June. * Tin's verse in Italic, in tlie poet's lK>lo;rrapli, from Professor ITiinlisV "Adriano," follows iinniecliately after this lieautifiil hallad; Imt wlietlier thelinesworenieantasai-oniiiliiiienttoMrs. C rahiuii of Kin try, Luiy Winifred Maxwell Constalile, or Mrs. Uiddell (whose name w.is Maria), to each of whom Le scut copied of the "Lament," is uot staled by thu iiditoi'K, ( 117 ) CONTENTS. 0>«<00- PAGE. PEEFATORY REMARKS, iii. ( 1 ) THE HOLY FAIR, 1 "The Holy Fair was a common phrase in the west of Scotland for a Sacramental occasioia." — Burns. The scene of this fine poem is the churchyarcl of Manchline, it was composed in the Autumn of 1785, presumably, soon after the communion which was administered at Mauchline in those days but once a year, namely, on the second Sunday of August. "The subject, handled so cleverly and sharply, is the laxity of manners visible in matters so solemn and terrible as the administration of the Sacrament. " — Cunnhujham. "This was, indeed, an extraordinary performance; no partizan of any sect could whisper that malice had formed its principal inspiration, or that its chief attraction lay in the boldness with which individuals, entitled and accustomed to respect, were held up to ridicule : it was acknowledged, amidst the sternest mutterings of wrath, that national maimers were once more in the hands of a national poet." — Lockhart. "It is no doubt, a reckless piece of satire, but is a clever one, and must have cut to the bone." — IIo(jij. ( 118 ) PAGE, "Notwithstanding the daring levity of some of its allusions and incidents, the poet has strictly confined himself to the sayings and doings of the assembled multitude — the sacred rite itself is never once mentioned. " — W. Gunnyon. Persons and Places mentioned in the Poeji. Galston. — The adjoining parish to Mauchline. Blach Bonnet. — "A colloqual appellation bestowed on the Church Elders or Deacons, who in the olden time generally M'or e hlack bonnets on Sundays, when they officiated at the "plate " in making the usual collection for the poor." — Motherwell. BetBarh r. — In the printed editions styled " Racer Jess^' she was Janet Gibson, daughter of " Poosie Nancie" of the ''Jolly Beggars," was remarkable for her pedestrian feats, and died at Mauchline, February, 1813. Sawnie. — Mr. Moodie, minister of Eiccarton, an adjoining parish, and one of the heroes of the " Twa Herds." He was a never-failing assistant at the Mauchline Sacraments. His per- sonal appearance and style of oratory were exactly as described by the poet. He dwelt chiefly on the terrors of the law. On one occasion he told the audience that they would find the text in John viii. , 44, but it was so applicable to their case that there was no need of his reading it to them. The verse begins, ' ' Ye are of your father the devil." Geordie. — Mr. (afterwards Dr.) George Smith, minister of Galston. Willie- Water-Jitt. — Mr. (afterwards Dr.) "Wm. Peebles minister of Newton-upon-Ayr, sometimes named, from its situation, the Water-fit. Common Sense. — Dr. Mackenzie, then of Mauchline, afterwards of Irvine, had recently conducted a controversy under the title of " Common Sense. " Local commentators are of opinion that he, and not the personified abstraction, is meant. Coivgate. — A street which faces the church-yard in Mauchline. ( 119 ) PAGE. jj'ee 31 r. — The Rev. Mr. Miller, afterwards minister of Kilmaurs. This stanza is vir tually the most depreciatory in the whole poem. BlarhR ?Z.— TheRev. John Russell, at this time minister of the chapel of ease, Kilmarnock, afterwards of Stirling— one of the heroes of the "Twa Herds." "He was," says a corre- spondent of Cunningham's, "the most tremendous man I ever saw. Black Hugh jSIacpherson was a beauty in comparison. His voice was like thunder, and his sentiments were such as must have shocked any class of hearers in the least more refined than those whom he usually addressed." ( 2 ) HALLOWE'EN, 10 "This 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 prying 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 should honour the author with a perusal, to see the remains of it among the more unenlightened in our own." — Burn-'i. The notes above alluded to are given in full on pages 18, 19 and 20, exactly as Burns wrote them. "Hallowe'en is thought to be a night when witches, devils, and other mischief-making beings are all abroad on thuir baneful inidniglit errands ; particularly those atrial people, the fairies, are said, on that night, to hold a grand anniversary." — Burns. ( 120 ) PAGE ( 3 ) ADDRESS TO THE DEIL, 21 Composed at the farm of Mossgiel in the winter of 1784, apparently after having carefully read Milton's "Paradise Lost." His brother tells us concerning the composition of this poem — "The curious idea of such an address was suggested to him by running over in his mind the many ludicrous accounts and representations we have from various quarters of this august personage." The obliteration of the fifteenth verse with the compli- mentary reference to "Bonnie Jean" was caused by the Poet's rupture with the Armour family. "The beautiful and relenting spirit in which this fine poem finishes moved the heart of one of the coldest of our critics." — A. Cunningham. "Humour and tenderness are here so happily intermixed, that it is impossible to say which pi'edominates. " — Currie. ( 4 ) THE AULD FARMER'S New-Year Salutatiox TO HIS AULD MEERE, ON GIVING HER THE ACUJS- TOM'D RIPP O' corn to HANSEL IN THE NEW-YEAR, 26 The Ettrick Shepherd says in a note to this poem: — "Burns must have been an exceedingly good and kind-heartsd being ; for whenever he has occasion to address or mention any subordinate being, however mean, even a mouse or a flower, then there is a gentle pathos in his language that awakens the finest feelings of the heart." Allan Cunningham says:— "The Aidd Farmer of Kyle has the spirit of a Knight-errant, and loves his mare according to the rules of chivalry ; and well he might ; she carried him safely homefrommarkets, triumphantly from wedding-booses ; she ploughed the stiifest land; faced the steepest brae, and. ( 121 ) PAGE. moreover, bore home his bonie bride with a consciousness of the loveliness of the load." Professor Wilson, in his famed essay on Burns, declares that to his knowledge, the recital of this poem has brought tears of pleasure to the eyes, and "humanized the heart of a Gilmerton carter." ( 5 ) JOHX BARLEYCORN— A Ballad, 30 This is an improvement of an early song of English origin, a copy of which was obtained by Mr. Robert Jameson from a blackdetter sheet in the Pepy's Library, Cambridge, and first puldished in his " Ballads." David Laing has also given an authentic version m his very curious volume of 'MetricalTales. " Although this Ballad was written prior to 1785, the Poet did not print it in the collection ol forty-four pieces which formed the Kilmarnock edition, published in July, 1786 : but it appeared in the first Edinburgh edition in April, 1787. The poet could never be induced to correct the defective grammar in the opening line, deeming, we suppose, with Shakespeare, that bad gram mar is sometimes a positive beauty. James Hogg hanrns, and has been a popular favourite ever since it made its appearance. The melody selected for it is in every way ( 136 ) PACK. calculated to give effect to the humour and naiveU of the words. Thomson objected to the localities, "Gate-slack" and "Dalgarnock," and the poet explained that Gate-slack is a romantic pass among the Lowther Hills, on the confines of Dumfries-shire, and that Dalgarnoch is an equally romantic spot near the Nith, where still are to be seen a ruined church and burial-ground. He at length yielded to an alteration of the former, thus : — ' He Tip the Gate-slack to my black cousin, Bess.' ' He up the lang loan to my black cousin, Bess.' Dr Currie very properly observed on this point that "It is always a pity to throw out anythmg that gives locality to our poet's verses." The following line, in the last verse but one, has been changed by popular usage, since Burns's days, in order to give it additional pomt, thus : — 'And how my auld shoon fitted her schachl't feet.' This makes it correspond with a common proverbial expression: when a lover deserts one mistress for another, the latter is twitted with wearing the old shoes of her predecessor. "The word 'petted,' in line first of verse fifth stands so in the MS., although in all printed copies we read 'fretted.' — S. Doufjlas. The three preceding MSS. (Nos. 17, 18 & 19) were bought for the Monument Museum Committee on 10th May, 1881, from Mr W. D'Acre Alder, Dumfries, for the sum of thirty five pounds. See also Mr Alder's note on page 90. ( 20 ) LETTER TO ROBERT MUIR, Kilmarnock, ... 91 This letter, although not dated, was written in 1786, and clears up the doubtful language of all the printed editions, in the first sentence of the second paragraph. ( 137 ) PAGE. Burns never tried to conceal either his joys or hissorrows : he sent copies of his favourite pieces, and intimations of much that befel him to his chief friends and comrades — this brief note was made to carry double. This letter was presented to the Monument Committee by the family of the late David Rankin, Esq., Postmaster and Wine Merchant, Kilmarnock. ( 21 ) LETTER TO ROBERT AINSLIE, Edinburgh, 92 (Cromek, 1808). Purchased 29th January, 1884, for the Kilmarnock Monument Museum at the Auction Rooms of Messrs Sotheby, Wilkinson & Hodge, 13 Wellington Street, Strand, London, for the sum of thirteen pounds. It contains several lines omitted in all printed copies. ( 22 ) HOLY WILLIE'S PRAYER, 95 Purchased, 16th January, 1884, for the Kilmarnock Monument Museum, at the Auction Rooms of Messrs Duncan Keith & Buchanan, Glasgow, for the sum of forty pounds. Many of the words in our text are different from all the printed copies, and greatly assist the student of Burns' literature in understanding the Poet's allusions in this scathing satire. " The origin of this terrible satire may be briefly told as follows : — Gavin Hamilton, the si)ecial friend of the poet, had been denied the benefit of the ordinances of the Church, following on a dispute about the poor-rate charged him, because he was alleged to have made a journey on the Sabbath, and to have made one of his servants take in some ( 138 ) PAGE potatoes from the garden on another Sunday— hence the allusion to his ' kail and potatoes ' in the poem. William Fisher, one of Mr Auld's elders, made himself somewhat conspicuous in the case. He was a great pretender to sanctity, and a punctilious stickler of outward observances. Poor man, he unfortunately merited the satire of the poet, as he was a drunkard, and latterly made too free with the Church-money in liis hands. Returning drunk from Mauch- line one night, he fell into a ditch and died from exposure. The fearfully literal exposition of the doctrine of election in the first verse makes the flesh creep." — Gunnyon. "Of this sarcastic and too daring poem many copies in manuscript were circulated while the poet lived, but though not unknown or imfelt by Currie, it continued unpublished till printed by Stewart with the Jolly Beggars, 1799-1801. Holy Willie was a small farmer, leading elder to Auld, a name well known to all lovers of Burns ; austere in speech, scrupulous in all outward observances, and what is known by the name of a 'professing Christian.' He experienced, however, a 'sore fall;' he permitted himself to be 'filled fou', and in a moment when ' self got in ' made free, it is said with the money of the poor of the parish. His name was "\^'illiam Fisher." — Cunmngham. "It is equally amusing and instructive to note how difi"erently the respective biographers of the poet have ex- pressed their sentiments regarding this powerful production. The Rev. Hamilton Paul and the Rev. Hateley Waddell, seem to invite the friends of religion to bless the memory of the poet who took such a judicious method of ' leading the liberal mind to a rational view of the nature of prayer.' Dr Waddell says that the poem ' implies no irreverence what- ever 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 reprehensible of ( 139 ) PAGE. Burns pieces, and one which should never have been ■RTitten. ' 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 reverened admirers of the poem appear to have compounded with their conciences for being pleased with a piece showing little veneration for religion itself, because it ridicules the mistaken zeal of an opposite sect.' The 'Argument,'' or introduction, first printed in Paterson's 6 Vol. Edition, is from the bard's own pen. It is prefixed to the copy inserted in the Glenriddell vohmie at Liverpool. '^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 tipj^ling orthodoxy, and for that spiritualized Ijawdry which refines to liquorish devotion. In a sessional process with a gentle- man in Mauchline — 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 ora- torical powers of Mr Robert Aitken, Mr Hamilton's counsel ; but chiefly to Mr Hamilton's lacing one of the most irre- proachable and truly i-espectable characters in the county. On losing his process, the muse overheard him (Holy Willie) ab his devotions." They were given to the world in the form of the now well known satire ' Holy Willie's Prayer. ' This enables us with some certainty to decide that the early part of the year 1785 (instead of July of that year, according to Chambers) was the date of tlie composition. The ' sessional process ' referred to really commenced in August, 1784, just before the annual celebration of the Communion at Mauchline, when the name of Gavin Hamilton, friend and landlord of tlie poet, was included in a list of members who were threatened to be debarred from the communion table ( 1^0 ) PAGE. 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 presbytery of Ayr for protection, and in January, 1785, he obtained a decree of that court ordering the erasure of the session minutes complained of. It was at this stage — as Ave apprehend— that the muse of Burns 'over- heard Holy Willie, at his devotions ; ' 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 process there did not close till July, 1785, when the affair was compromised by Hamil- ton'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 stanzas; but the copy from which our text is printed contains only fifteen stanzas ; the fourth and sixth stanzas being excluded in transcribing, perhaps because Burns felt them to be rather weak. These two stanzas are given thus in Paterson : — ' When frae my mither's womb I fell, Thou might hae plunged me in hell, To gnash my gums, to weep and wail, In burnin' lakes, ■\Vheie damnfed devils roar and yell, Chain'd to their stakes.' 6 'O L d. Thou kens what zeal I bear, When drinkers drink, an' swearers swear. An singin' there, an' dancin' here, Wi' great and sma' ; For I am keepit by Thy fear. Free frae them a.* ( 141 ) PAGE, "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 evjhth and corrupts the fifteenth. Motherwell gives all the seventeen verses, but his fifteenth stanza is the 'Dumfries version,' of which we shall presently speak. Chambers omits the sixth, eighth and ninth verses, besides repeating Cunningham'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 opposite 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 pronoimced as an Irishman might — 'snakiii'.^ — S. Douglas. The following is the stanza with the word snahin^ meaning exulting and sneering, as given in some of the early versions, and which has quite a different meaning from the thirteenth stanza of our text. 15 'O Lord, my God ! that glib tongii'd Aiken, My vera heart and flesh (sa%d) are qiiakin', To think how we stood sweatin', shakin', An' p 'd wi' dread, While he wi' hingiii' lip an' snakin', Held up his head.' ( 23 ) OCCASIONAL ADDRESS, spoken by Miss FONTENELLE, AT DUMFFvIES ThE.\TKE, 99* Purchased 29th January, 1S84, for the Kilmarnock Monument Museum, at the Auction Rooms of Messrs Sotheby, Wilkinson & Hodge, 1.3 Wellington Street, Strand, London, for the sum of twenty-seven pounds. ( 142 ) PAGE. "This second 'Address,' written by the Bard for his' favourite actress, Miss Fontenelle, has been preserved to the public through the accident of its having been communicated in a letter from Burns to Mrs Dunlop. Dr Currie has been pleased to date that letter *15th Deer., 1795'; but from internal evidence it is proved to have been penned not later than 1793— the date we unhesitatingly assign to it. It was first published by Currie in 1S00."—S. Douglas. From the foregoing note it is evident that Scott Douglas did not know of the existence of the original MS., from which our text is printed, whereon, in the poet's holograph, the date is distinctly stated, 'Deer. 4th, 1793.' The four lines in the second last stanza, beginning Tor shame ! for shame !' have not been previously published. ( 24 ) EPISTLE TO A YOUNG FEIEND, loi This epistle was addressed to Andrew Aiken, the son of the poet's old friend, Robert Aiken, writer, in Ayr. Andrew Aiken afterwards earned distinction in the service of his •country. In all the printed editions the third and fourth sta,nza,s of our text are transposed ; and of the seventh verse Chambers well remarks that "the admirable taste of the poet had doubtless observed this verse to be below the rest in terseness and point, and therefore caused him to omit it in printing." The following interesting note is from Mr James Dickie, Town Clerk, Irvine (Hon. Sec. Irvine Bums Club). "Between the family of Mr Aitken of Ayr, the friend of the poet, and that of Mr John Johnston, Silversmith and Watchmaker, Ayr, a friendsliip and intimacy existed, and it was through Mr Aitken that Mr Johnston became possessed ( 143 ) PAGE. of the MS. 'Epistle to young friend.' At Mr Johnston's death it passed into the hands of his eldest son, Mr George Johnston, who was for many years an Insurance Broker in Liverpool. After his death, the solicitor in charge of his affairs delivered the MS. to a neice of the deceased — Miss Johnston of Rosebank, Irvine, now Mrs Johnstone, The Manse, Leuchars. From her it was obtained by her uncle, l)r Peter Johnston, of Irvine. He died in October, 1877, and by instructions of his executor — Mr David Dickie, Goods Manager, Glasgow and South- Western Railway — I sold the MS. at Kilmarnock by public roup, on 9th Feby., 1878, when it was purchased for the Monixment Committee, for the sum <>l twelve pounds ten shillings. ( 25 ) TAM 0' SHANTER, A Tale, .105 Purchased for the Kilmarnock Monument Museum, from Messrs Kerr and Richardson, Queen Street, Glasgow, 2nd September, 1885, for the sum of two hundred and thirty five pounds, Mr Richardson bought the MS. at a sale in Messrs Sotheby, Wilkinson & Hodge's auction rooms, London, a .short time previously, but the auctioneers declined to give tlie name of the seller. It was not knowni to have been I)ublicly sold before : but a very fine photo-lithographic yb-c- simile of this manuscript was published by Adams & Francis, 59 Fleet Street, London. The following note by Gunnyon gives a very fair account of the origin of the "Tale." "Captain Grose, in the introduction to his "Antiquities of Scotlantl," says "To my inrjenious friend, Mr Robert Buiuis, I have been seriously obligated ; he was not only at the pains of making out what was most worthy of notice in Ayrshire, the country honoured by his birth, but he also wrote, expressly for this work, the pretty (ale annexed to ( 144 ) PAGE, Alloway Church." This pretty tale was " Tarn o' Shanter," certainly the most popvilar of all our poet's works. In a letter to Captain Grose, Burns gives the legend which formed the ground work of the poem : — " On a market day in the town of Ayr, a farmer from Carrick, and consequently whose way lay by the very gate of Alloway kirkyard, in order to cross the river Doon at the old bridge, which is about two or three hundred yards farther on than the said gate, had been detained by his business, till by the time he reached Alloway it was the wizard hour, between night and morning. Though he was terrified with the blaze streaming from the kirk, yet it is a well-known fact that to turn back on these occasions is running by far the greatest risk of mischief, — he prudently advanced on his road. When he had reached the gate of the kirkyard, he was surprised and entertained, through the ribs and arches of an old Gothic window, which still faces the highway, to see a dance of witches merrily footing it round their old sooty blackguard master, who was keeping them all alive with the power of his bagpipe. The farmer, stopping his horse to observe them a little, could plainly descry the faces of many old women of his acquaintance and neighbourhood. How the gentleman was dressed tradition does not say, but that the ladies were all in their smocks : and one of them happening unluckily to have a smock which was considerably too short to answer all the purposes of that piece of dress, our farmer was so tickled that he involuntarily burst out, with a loud laugh, ' Weel luppen, Maggie wi' the short sark ! ' and recol- lecting himself, instantly spurred his horse to the top of his speed. I need not mention the universally-known fact that no diabolical power can pursue you beyond the middle of a running stream. Lucky it was for the poor farmer that the river Doon was so near, for notwithstanding the speed of his horse, which was a good one, against he reached the middle of the arch of the bridge, and consequently the middle of the stream, the pursuing, vengeful hags, were so close at his heels that one of them actually sprung to seize him ; but it was too late, nothing was on her side of the stream but the horse's tail, which immediately gave way at her uifernal grip, as if blasted by a stroke of ( 145 ) PAGE. lightning ; but the farmer was beyond her reach. However, the unsightly, tailless condition of the vigorous steed was, to the last hour of the noble creature's life, an awful warning to the Carrick farmers not to stay too late in Ayr markets." On the authority of Robert Chambers we learn that Douglas Grahame of Shanter, a farmer on the Carrick shore, who was in reality the drunken, careless being the poet depicts him, became the hero of the legend, and several ludicrous stories current about him were woven into it with admirable skill. It is reported of him that one market day being in Ayr he had tied his mare by the bridle to a ring at the door of a public house, and while he was making himself happy with some cronies inside, the idle boys of the neigh- bourhood pulled all the hair out of the mare's tail. This was not noticed until the following morning, when, be- coming bewildered as to the cause of the accident, he could only refer it to the agency of witchcraft. It is further related of Grahame that when a debauch had been prolonged until the dread of the " sulky sullen dame " at home rose up before him, he would frequently continue drinking rather than face her, even although delay would add to the terrors of the inevitable home-going. The poem was composed in one day in the winter of 1790. Mrs Burns informed Cromek that the poet had lingered longer by the river side than his wont, and that, taking the children with her, she went out to join him, but perceiving that her presence was an interruption to him, she lingered behind him : her attention was attracted by his wild gesticulations and ungovernable mirth, while he was reciting the passages of the poem as they arose in his mind." Cunningham says "This is a West-country legend, embellished by genius. No other poem in our language displays such variety of power, in the same number of lines." Scott says *' In the inimitable tale of Tarn o' Shanter, Burns has left us sufficient evidence of his ability to combine K ( 146 ) PAGE the ludicrous with the awful, and even the hori'ible. No poet, with the exception of Shakspeare, ever possessed the power of exciting the most varied and discordant emotions with such rapid transitions." ( 26 ) LAMENT OF MAEY, QUEEN OF SCOTS, ... 113 This poem was part of the purchase made from Messrs Kerr & Richardson, and was included in the sum paid for (No. 25) «'Tam o' Shanter." "The poet communicated this 'Lament' to his friend Dr Moore in February, 1791, but it was composed about the close of the preceding year, at the request of Lady Winifred Maxwell .Constable, of Terreagles, the last in direct descent of this noble and ancient house of Maxwell of Nithsdale. Burns expressed himself more than commonly pleased with this composition ; nor was he unrewarded, for Lady Winifred gave him a valuable snufF-box, with the portrait of the unfor- tunate Mary on the lid. The bed still keeps its place in Terreagles, on which the qiieen slept as she was on her way to take refuge with her cruel and treacherous cousin, Elizabeth ; and a letter from her no less unfortunate grandson, Charles the First, calling the Maxwells to arm in his cause, is preserved in the family archives." — Cunningham. "On 25th April, 1791, as we learned from a hitherto inedited portion of a letter the poet then addressed to Lady Winifred Maxwell Constable, he sent her a copy of this ballad. Allan Cunningham, in his reckless way of dealing out fictions for facts, states that the ballad was written at the request of that lady, and that she 'rewarded the poet with a valuable snuff-box, bearing on the lid a portrait of the unfortunate queen.' Now the facts are that the poet's letter just referred to is one of thanks to that lady for her elegant present, and he concludes with these words 'I enclose our ( H7 ) PAGE. ladyship a poetic compliment I lately paid to the memory of ourgreatlj^ injured, lovely Scottish Queen. I have the honour to be, &c.' " — S. Douglas. In a letter to Mrs Graham of Fintry, enlosing a copy of "The Lament," the poet says: — "Whether it is the story of our Mary Queen of Scots has a peculiar eflfect on the feelings of a poet, or whether I have in the enclosed ballad, succeeded beyond my usual poetic success, I know not, but it has pleased me beyond any effort of my Muse for a good while past." THE END. KILMAUNOCK : I'lU.NTED BY D. DROWN & CO., (.SLCCEijSOIlS TO JAMi:S M'KIK), 2 4 6 KING ST. UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY AA 000 275 013 1 CENTRAL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY University of California, Saji Diego DATE DUE UCSD Libr. 'm w^, '///////, m. m. ■jj^j^/j^ '■- ', ' /" /■::.cJjJ^~iJJJJI:'.