HP-

 
 THE 
 
 COMPLETE WORKS 
 
 OF 
 
 ROBERT BURNS
 
 The Ayrshire Edition de Luxe 
 
 Limited to One Thousand Numbered 
 
 Copies of which this is 
 
 NumberJu./^.
 
 
 
 T BURNS 
 
 
 VO! 
 
 ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 
 GEBBIE & CO., PUBLISH!
 
 THE 
 
 COMPLETE WORKS 
 
 OF 
 
 ROBERT BURNS 
 
 (SBI.F-INTERPRETING) 
 
 ILLUSTRATED WITH SIXTY ETCHINGS 
 
 AND WOOD CUTS, MAPS AND FA 
 
 VOLUME I. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 GEBBIE & CO., PUBLISHERS
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1886, BY 
 
 GEBBIE & COMPANY. 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1908, BY 
 
 KARL. A. ARVIDSON. 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY 
 
 JAMES L. PERKINS & COMPANY. 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 STACK ANNEX 
 
 PUBLISHERS' PREFACR 
 
 IN May, 1787, the celebrated Dr. Moore, the author of "Zeluco," 
 in writing to Burns, says, "You ought to deal more sparingly 
 for the future, in the provincial dialect. Why should you by 
 using that, limit the number of your admirers to those who 
 understand the Scottish, when you could extend it to all persons 
 of taste, who understand the English language." 
 
 A few years later, the poet Cowper, writing from England to a 
 friend in Scotland said, " Burns loses much of his deserved praise 
 in this country, through our ignorance of his language. I 
 despair of meeting any Englishman who will take the pains that 
 I have taken to understand him. His candle is light, but shut 
 up in a dark lantern. I lent him to a sensible neighbor of mine, 
 but the uncouth dialect spoiled all, and before he had read him 
 through he was quite ' ramfeezled.' " 
 
 Lord Jeffrey, Edinburgh, writes to Mr. Empson, London, Nov. 
 nth, 1837 : "In the last week I have read all Burns's life and 
 works, not without many tears for the life especially. * * * 
 You Southern Saxons cannot value him rightly. You miss half 
 the pathos, and more than half his sweetness." 
 
 It has been a matter of regret to all English readers that 
 Burns's " Scottish dialect" is so hard to understand. To remedy 
 this is the chief purpose of THE SELF-INTERPRETING EDITION OF 
 
 THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 The special qualifications for this work of interpretation are 
 referred to in our Editors' preface. Mr. Hunter, we may say en 
 passant, was selected by us as consulting Scotch editor, from our 
 knowledge of his general scholarly ability, his long experience 
 as the chief editor of the revised Ogilvie's Imperial Dictionary, 
 as editor of the supplement to Worcester's Dictionary, and more 
 especially because of his enthusiastic love for Burns, his thor- 
 ough knowledge of his author, and last though not least, because 
 the place of his nativity Ayrshire, (like that of Mr. Gebbie, 
 co-editor and publisher) made him au fait in the language, 
 manners and customs of the "land of Burns." 
 
 2068764
 
 Ti PUBLISHERS' PREFACE. 
 
 The advantage of a dual editorship, in which both the mem- 
 bers are " native and to the manner born," has been manifested 
 at every step in the progress of the work, alike in compilation, 
 interpretation, and elucidation generally. It is for the public to 
 judge the result. 
 
 We desire to say only one word as to the embellishment and 
 general make-up of our Self-Interpreting edition of The Scottish 
 Bard. The type was specially cast for this edition by The Mac- 
 Kellar Smiths & Jordan Co., of Philadelphia. The Illustrations 
 (over one hundred in all) have for nearly two years engaged 
 the best etchers and engravers in America and some in Europe. 
 The Maps, Facsimiles of MSS., &c., which are reproduced, will be 
 interesting, being mostly copied from original MS. now in Amer- 
 ican collections. In this connection we wish to record our 
 thanks to Messrs. Geo. W. Childs, Ferdinand J. Dreer, and 
 Raymond Claghorn, of Philadelphia, and Robert Clarke, of Cin- 
 cinnati, for placing at our disposal their original MSS. of Burns. 
 
 When we have deemed it desirable, we have reproduced the 
 music for the best songs, and in the George Thompson Corre- 
 spondence we give the original music in full. 
 
 In conclusion, we have made it our study to combine in this 
 edition of Burns every feature of excellence that has hitherto 
 been developed in connection with his name and fame, and have 
 aimed to make it in all respects such an edition as the truest 
 lover of Burns can take to his home and say, ' ' Now I have 
 an edition of Burns worthy the Poet." 
 
 GEBBIE AND COMPANY.
 
 EDITORS' PREPACK 
 
 In offering to the public another edition of the Works of 
 Burns, it appears reasonable that we should state the reasons 
 that led us to undertake the task of preparing it, and the 
 special claims that we believe it to have on public attention. 
 First, then, we say that up to this time the mere English- 
 speaking reader has had no edition of Burns at his disposal 
 enabling him adequately to understand and appreciate this, 
 the greatest of Scottish poets. Burns's poems are, as he him- 
 self phrases it, in the title-page to his Kilmarnock Edition, 
 "chiefly in the Scottish dialect" a dialect largely "an 
 unknown tongue ' ' to most Americans and Englishmen and 
 this applies especially to his best and most characteristic 
 pieces. Many editions of the Works of Burns have been 
 published, some with and some without glossaries, and some 
 with foot-notes at the bottom of the page, giving (or professing 
 to give) the English equivalents of a small proportion of the 
 Scottish words, but not one of those editions satisfies in any 
 adequate degree, the requirements of the English reader. For 
 the first time the English-speaking public is put in a position 
 to understand Burns readily, to enjoy his caustic wit, his 
 genial humor, his wondrous power of fancy, and to appreciate 
 his unrivalled richness of diction and felicity of expression. Up 
 to this time the American public have had to receive Burns 
 largely on trust, or to form their estimate of him from the 
 pieces they could understand. He is now made plain in all 
 his fulness and power. 
 
 Besides the feature of interpretation, on which we largely 
 rely for the favor of the American public in this enterprise, 
 we desire to point out, somewhat in detail, the immense 
 superiority in respect of completeness that the present edition 
 possesses over all other editions of our author. The fact is 
 unique that it has taken nearly a hundred years to gather 
 from their hiding-places more than one-half the letters of 
 Burns, and more than one-third of his poems and songs. 
 There are various causes to account for this singular fact. 
 
 vii
 
 yiii EDITORS' PREFACE. 
 
 Chief amongst them was his early death. Burns died in his 
 thirty-seventh year. He had not only been a prolific poet, but 
 a very active correspondent ; but he was very unsystematic. 
 It has been urged by his early biographers, Currie, Cromek, 
 Lockhart and Cunningham, especially, that Burns never 
 expected that his correspondence would be published. This 
 may be correct up to a certain period, but we are enabled to 
 publish (for the first time) a letter which he wrote to Mr. 
 Peter Hill, book-seller and publi.sher, Edinburgh (introducing 
 Mr. Findlater),* in which he states that he was collecting 
 (and evidently preparing for publication) some, at least, of his 
 letters. This was in 1794. Shortly after this (in 1796) Burns 
 died, and then it was determined to publish his works, letters 
 and poetry, for the benefit of his family. The editorship was 
 nobly and unselfishly undertaken by Dr. Currie, and the work 
 carefully and successfully accomplished. This w r as in 1800 ; 
 but Currie was trammeled by three or four draw-backs : First, 
 some of the pieces to which he had access were considered 
 too free in various ways. Second, Burns was full half a century 
 ahead of his time in his ideas on Liberty ; and radicalism, 
 after the commencement of the French revolution, had become 
 unpopular in Europe, therefore, all letters, songs and poems 
 likely to be offensive to a conservative government were sup- 
 pressed. This feature will be best understood by reading ' ' The 
 Lincluden Vision and Song of Liberty," now, for the first time, 
 published as a connected poem. Third, the satires and epi- 
 grams affecting people then living were also suppressed. 
 Fourth, the especial reason why Dr. Currie did not have more 
 matter to select from or record, was : the fame of Burns at 
 the commencement of this century was not so assured as it 
 afterwards became. To quote the words of one of his most 
 intelligent eulogists : "It took Scotland fully fifty years to 
 arrive at a full appreciation of what a gigantic genius she had 
 held in her bosom." Gradually, however, as his fame increased, 
 people with whom he had corresponded began to look up his 
 letters ; some retained them as precious relics, and some sold 
 them. Then the publishers got them for publication, until 
 when Allan Cunningham, in 1834, published his edition of 
 the poet, he was able to boast that in his " Complete Works 
 of Burns " he had given to the world 150 songs and poems 
 more than Currie had given, and more than 100 more letters. 
 The edition of Cunningham (Virtue & Co.) and Blackie's 
 
 * This letter is now in the collection of Mr. Ferdinand J. Dreer, of Philadelphia, 
 who kindly lent it to u for publication.
 
 EDITORS' PREFACE. ix 
 
 have been the editions most extensively sold in America, and 
 Americans generally have accepted them as complete. Blackie's 
 was published in 1846, and was a trifle more complete than 
 Cunningham's. Since the publication of Virtue's and Blackie's 
 editions, thcte have appeared Chambers', Waddell's, Smith's, 
 Gilfillau's and Win. Scott Douglas's. The public will understand 
 the necessity for a new edition of Burns's works when we inform 
 them that ours will contain at least 100 pieces in verse and 
 nearly 200 more letters than either Virtue's or Blackie's. 
 Besides this, we have restored to their full text many of the 
 poems and letters abridged by previous editors. The notes of 
 all previous editors we have treated on the freest eclectic prin- 
 ciple ; using only those, however, that are needful for a clearer 
 understanding of the text and the story of the Poet's life. 
 
 While we have, therefore, laid all the previous editions 
 of Burns under contribution, comparing, weighing and adopting 
 for ours what we thought best in each, we have selected for 
 the basis of this edition, that of Wm. Scott Douglas, of Edin- 
 burgh. Mr. Douglas has undoubtedly, on the principle of 
 using the work of his predecessors, produced the most complete 
 and satisfactory edition of the works of the Bard of Scotland, 
 published till 1880. We have not hesitated, however, to deal 
 freely with his work, collating it constantly with that of 
 other editors, Cunningham, Hogg and Motherwell, Chambers, 
 Gilfillan, Waddell and others, adopting it where we considered 
 it best, but correcting, amplifying, condensing, deleting or 
 otherwise modifying it as the weight of authority or our own 
 judgment and knowledge dictated. The result is, that this is 
 really an ECLECTIC EDITION, comprising the best of all former 
 editions of the works of Burns, to which we add our own 
 commentaries and translations. Our notes and explanations 
 are generally signed with the editor's initials, and the same 
 mode is followed in reference to any original matter added 
 to Mr. Douglas's notes. Where additional matter has been 
 adopted from other editors, credit is given them ; in the case 
 of mere incidental hints or suggestions we have not been so 
 careful to indicate authorship. Where Mr. Douglas's notes 
 have been modified by re-writing a portion for the sake of 
 clearness, condensation, or correction, or by incorporating new 
 matter in the text with the view of enriching and elucidating 
 it, we have not, so long as the main portion of the work is 
 Mr. D.'s, indicated our share. 
 
 We publish, for the first time, enough of the celebrated and 
 mysterious "Court of Equity" to enable our readers clearly to
 
 at EDITORS' PREFACE. 
 
 understand the nature of this production, so frequently referred 
 to in his correspondence. 
 
 Our discovery of the connection of "The Lincluden Vision" 
 and "The Ode to Liberty" will be found fully detailed in 
 Vol. V. The long missing Edinburgh Journal will be found 
 complete in Vol. II. 
 
 One new special feature in this edition, (besides our method 
 of translation) is, that each volume is complete in itself, cover- 
 ing a certain period of the poet's life, and comprising both 
 his rhymed and unrhymed productions, the poetry keeping 
 time with the prose and the prose with the poetry ; wkile 
 the intercalated biography aids in illustrating both and in 
 turn receives illustration from them. The only exceptions to 
 this arrangement are in the cases of his Autobiography, his 
 Clarinda Correspondence and his Correspondence with George 
 Thomson ; and, in each of these cases the intelligent reader 
 will easily appreciate the reason for the distinction. By treat- 
 ing the work in this way the life-history of the Poet helps to 
 elucidate his productions. 
 
 In our choice of a Biography for the poet, we have had no 
 hesitation in selecting that of Alexander Smith, the author of 
 "City Poems," "A Life Drama," etc., a poet and an Ayrshire 
 man by birth, as being at once the clearest, fullest, most 
 genially sympathetic, and generally interesting. The same 
 freedom of treatment has been applied to it that has been 
 applied to Mr. Douglas's notes ; facts have been verified, 
 opinions and judgments weighed, and every means used to 
 give the public at once, the fullest and fairest biography of 
 Robert Burns. Free use has been made in this connection 
 of the eloquent sketch of his life by Dr. Waddell, and the 
 careful Biography by Robert Chambers. Nor have the Biog- 
 raphies by his brother poets, Cunningham, and Hogg and 
 Motherwell been neglected. GEO. GEBBIE.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 (To the Original Edition, Kilmarnock, 1786.) 
 
 following trifles are not the production of the Poet, who, 
 with all the advantages of learned art, and perhaps amid the 
 elegancies and idlenesses of upper life, looks down for a rural 
 theme, with an eye to Theocrites or Virgil. To the Authoi 
 of this, these and other celebrated names (their countrymen) 
 are, in their original languages, ' a fountain shut up, and a 
 book sealed.' Unacquainted with the necessary requisites for 
 commencing Poet by rule, he sings the sentiments and man- 
 ners he felt and saw in himself and his rustic compeers around 
 him, in his and their native language. Though a Rhymer 
 from his earliest years, at least from the earliest impulses of 
 the softer passions, it was not till very lately that the applause, 
 perhaps the partiality, of Friendship, wakened his vanity so 
 far as to make him think anything of his was worth showing ; 
 and none of the following works were ever composed with a 
 view to the press. To amuse himself with the little creations 
 of his own fancy, amid the toil and fatigues of a laborious 
 life ; to transcribe the various feelings, the loves, the griefs, 
 the hopes, the fears, in his own breast ; to find some kind of 
 counterpoise to the struggles of a world, always an alien 
 scene, a task uncouth to the poetical mind ; these were his 
 motives for courting the Muses, and in these he found Poetry 
 to be its own reward. 
 
 Now that he appears in the public character of an Author, 
 he does it with fear and trembling. So dear is fame to the 
 rhyming tribe, that even he, an obscure, nameless Bard, 
 shrinks aghast at the thought of being branded as ' An imper- 
 tinent blockhead, obtruding his nonsense on the world ; and 
 because he can make a shift to jingle a few doggerel Scotch 
 rhymes together, looks upon himself as a Poet of no small 
 consequence forsooth.' 
 
 It is an observation of that celebrated Poet* whose divine 
 Elegies do honor to our language, our nation and our species, 
 
 * Shenstone.
 
 xii ORIGINAL PREFACE. 
 
 that 'Humility has depressed many a genius to a hermit, 
 but never raised one to fame.' If any Critic catches at the 
 word genius, the Author tells him, once for all, that he cer 
 tainly looks upon himself as possest of some poetic abilities, 
 otherwise his publishing in the manner he has done would 
 be a manoeuvre below the worst character which, he hopes his 
 worst enemy will ever give him : but to the genius of a 
 Ramsay, or the glorious dawnings of the poor unfortunate 
 Ferguson, he, with equal unaffected sincerity, declares, that, 
 even in his highest pulse of vanity, he has not the most 
 distant pretensions. These two justly admired Scotch Poets 
 he has often had in his eye in the following pieces ; but 
 rather with a view to kindle at their flame, than for servile 
 imitation. 
 
 To his Subscribers, the Author returns his most sincere 
 thanks. Not the mercenary bow over a counter, but the heart- 
 throbbing gratitude of the Bard, conscious how much he is 
 indebted to Benevolence and Friendship for gratifying him, if 
 he deserves it, in that dearest wish of every poetic bosom to 
 be distinguished. He begs his readers, particularly the Learned 
 and the Polite, who may honor him with a perusal, that they 
 will make every allowance for Education and Circumstances of 
 Life : but if, after a fair, candid, and impartial criticism, he 
 shall stand convicted of Dulness and Nonsense, let him be 
 done by, as he would in that case do by others let him be 
 condemned, without mercy, to contempt and oblivion.
 
 CONTENTS OF VOLUME I. 
 
 POETRY. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Song Handsome Nell i 
 
 Har'ste A Fragment 3 
 
 Song O Tibbie, I hae seen the day 4 
 
 Song I dream'd I lay 7 
 
 Song In the Character of a Ruined Farmer 8 
 
 Tragic Fragment All villain as I am 10 
 
 The Tarbolton Lasses 12 
 
 Paraphrase of Jeremiah xv. 10 13 
 
 Montgomerie's Peggy 14 
 
 The Ploughman's Life 15 
 
 The Ronalds of the Bennals 16 
 
 Song Here's to thy health, my bonie lass 18 
 
 The Lass of Cessnock Banks 20 
 
 Song Bonie Peggy Alison 23 
 
 Song Mary Morison 25 
 
 Winter : A Dirge 26 
 
 A Prayer under the Pressure of Violent Anguish 28 
 
 Paraphrase of the First Psalm 29 
 
 The First Six Verses of the Ninetieth Psalm versified . . 30 
 
 A Prayer in the Prospect of Death 31 
 
 Stanzas on the Same Occasion 32 
 
 Fickle Fortune : A Fragment 34 
 
 Song Raging Fortune : A Fragment 35 
 
 I'll go and be a Sodger 35 
 
 Song No Churchman am I 36 
 
 My Father was a Farmer : A Ballad 38 
 
 John Barleycorn : A Ballad 40 
 
 The Death and Dying Words of Poor Mailie 43 
 
 Poor Mailie's Elegy 46 
 
 Song The Rigs o' Barley 48 
 
 Song Composed in August 50 
 
 Song My Nanie, O ! 52 
 
 Song Green Grow the Rashes 54 
 
 xiii
 
 xiv CONTENTS OF VOLUME I 
 
 MM 
 
 Song "Indeed will I," quo' Findlay 56 
 
 Remorse : A Fragment 57 
 
 Epitaph on James Grieve, Laird of Boghead 58 
 
 Epitaph on William Hood, Senior 59 
 
 Epitaph on William Muir 59 
 
 Epitaph on my Ever Honoured Father 60 
 
 Ballad on the American War 61 
 
 Reply to an Announcement by J. Rankine 64 
 
 Epistle to John Rankine 65 
 
 A Poet's Welcome to his Love-Begotten Daughter .... 69 
 
 Song O Leave Novels ! 71 
 
 The Mauchline Lady : A Fragment 72 
 
 My Girl she's airy : A Fragment 73 
 
 The Belles of Mauchline 73 
 
 Epitaph on a Noisy Polemic 74 
 
 Epitaph on a Henpecked Squire 75 
 
 Epigram on the said Occasion 75 
 
 Another do do 75 
 
 On Tarn the Chapman 76 
 
 Epitaph on John Rankine 76 
 
 Lines on the Author's Death 77 
 
 Man was made to Mourn : A Dirge 78 
 
 The Twa Herds ; or, the Holy Tulyie 81 
 
 Epistle to Davie, a Brother Poet . . 86 
 
 Holy Willie's Prayer 91 
 
 Epitaph on Holy Willie 96 
 
 Death and Dr. Hornbook 98 
 
 Epistle to J. Lapraik 105 
 
 Second Epistle to J. Lapraik in 
 
 Epistle to William Simson 115 
 
 One Night as I did Wander 123 
 
 Fragment of Song " My Jean ! " 123 
 
 Song Rantin, Rovin Robin 125 
 
 Elegy on the Death of Robert Ruisseaux 128 
 
 Epistle to John Goldie, in Kilmarnock 129 
 
 Third Epistle to J. Lapraik 132 
 
 Epistle to the Rev. John M'Math 134 
 
 Second Epistle to Davie 137 
 
 Song Young Peggy Blooms 139 
 
 Song Farewell to Ballochmyle 141 
 
 Fragment Her Flowing Locks 142 
 
 Halloween 142 
 
 To a Mouse 153
 
 CONTENTS OF VOLUME I. XV 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Epitaph on John Dove, Innkeeper 156 
 
 Epitaph for James Smith 157 
 
 Adam Armour's Prayer 157 
 
 The Jolly Beggars : A Cantata 159 
 
 Song For a' that 178 
 
 Song Kissin my Katie 179 
 
 The Cotter's Saturday Night 180 
 
 Address to the Deil 188 
 
 Scotch Drink 193 
 
 The Auld Farmer's New- Year Morning Salutation to nis 
 
 Auld Mare, Maggie 199 
 
 The Twa Dogs 203 
 
 The Author's Earnest Cry and Prayer 213 
 
 The Ordination 221 
 
 Epistle to James Smith 227 
 
 The Vision 234 
 
 The Rantin Dog, the Daddie o't 248 
 
 Here's his Health in Water 249 
 
 Address to the Unco Guid 250 
 
 The Inventory 253 
 
 To John Kennedy, Dumfries House 256 
 
 To Mr. M'Adam, of Craigen-Gillan 257 
 
 To a Louse 259 
 
 Inscribed on a Work of Hannah More's 261 
 
 The Holy Fair 262 
 
 Song Composed in Spring 273 
 
 To a Mountain Daisy 275 
 
 To Ruin 278 
 
 The Lament 279 
 
 Despondency : An Ode 282 
 
 To Gavin Hamilton, Esq., Mauchline, recommending a 
 
 Boy 285 
 
 Versified Reply to an Invitation 287 
 
 Song Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary? 288 
 
 My Highland Lassie, O 290 
 
 Epistle to a Young Friend . __._ 293 
 
 Address of Beelzebub 298 
 
 A Dream . 301 
 
 A Dedication to Gavin Hamilton, Esq 306 
 
 Versified Note to Dr. Mackenzie, Mauchline 312 
 
 The Farewell to the Brethren of St. James's Lodge, Tar- 
 
 bolton 313 
 
 On a Scotch Bard, gone to the West Indies ....... 315
 
 CONTENTS OF VOLUME L 
 
 Song Farewell to Eliza 317 
 
 A Bard's Epitaph 319 
 
 Epitaph for Robert Aiken, Esq 320 
 
 Epitaph for Gavin Hamilton, Esq 321 
 
 Epitaph on "Wee Johnie " 321 
 
 The Lass o' Ballochmyle 322 
 
 Motto prefixed to the Author's First Publication 325 
 
 The Court of Equity 399 
 
 PROSE. 
 
 MOT 
 
 Sale of Kilmarnock Edition 326 
 
 Introductory Note 327 
 
 Introduction to Autobiography 328 
 
 Autobiography Letter to Dr. Moore 332 
 
 Supplementary Note to Dr. Moore 350 
 
 Chronological Supplement to Autobiography 351 
 
 Manual of Religious Belief by Poet's father 354 
 
 Letters by Poet's father 358 
 
 Letter (i) to Ellison Begbie 360 
 
 Letter (2) to Ellison Begbie 361 
 
 Letter (3) to Ellison Begbie 363 
 
 Letter (4) to Ellison Begbie 364 
 
 Letter (5) to Ellison Begbie 366 
 
 Letter to the Author's father 368 
 
 Letter (i) to Sir John Whitefoord, Bart 370 
 
 Letter (i) to Mr. John Murdock, Schoolmaster, London . . 372 
 
 Letter (i) to Mr. James Burness, Writer, Montrose .... 375 
 
 Letter (2) to Mr. James Burness, Writer, Montrose .... 377 
 
 Letter (3) to Mr. James Burness, Writer, Montrose .... 378 
 
 Letter (i) to Mr. Thomas Orr, Park, near Kirkoswald . . 380 
 
 Letter (i) to Miss Margaret Kennedy 381 
 
 Letter (i) to Mr. John Richmond, Edinburgh 382 
 
 Letter (i) to Jas. Smith, Mauchline 383 
 
 Letter (i) to Mr. John Kennedy ' 384 
 
 Letter (i) to Mr. Robert Muir, Kilmarnock 385 
 
 Letter (i) to Robert Aiken, Esq., Ayr 385 
 
 Letter (i) to John Ballantine, Esq., Banker, Ayr 386 
 
 Letter (i) to Mr. M'Whinnie, Writer, Ayr 388
 
 CONTENTS OF VOLUME L xvil 
 
 Letter (2) to Mr. John Kennedy 389 
 
 Letter (i) to John Arnot, Esq., of Dalquatswood 390 
 
 Egotisms from my own sensations 395 
 
 Letter (3) to Mr. John Kennedy 396 
 
 Letter (i) to Mr. David Brice, Glasgow 396 
 
 Letter (4) to Mr. James Burness, Writer, Montrose .... 397 
 
 Letter (2) to Mr. John Richmond, Edinburgh 398 
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 FAINTED BY ENGRAVED BY PAG 
 
 Portrait of Burns A. Nasmyth . . . . J. McGoffin. Frontisp. 
 
 The Rigs O' Barley Max Rosenthal. . . Max Rosenthal 48 
 
 My Nanie, O! John Faed,R.S.A. . .W. Dunbar. . . 52 
 
 The Jolly Beggars . . . . . J. M. Wright. . . . J. McGoffin . . 161 
 
 The Cotter's Saturday Night.J. O. Brown S. Hollyer. ... 184 
 
 The Twa Dogs J. B. Sword .... P. Moran . . . 203 
 
 The Vision C. Stanton,A.R.S.A. J. McGoffin . . 240 
 
 To a Louse W. Small Teyssonnieres . 259 
 
 The Lass O' Ballochmyle. . J. O. Brown .... P. Moran. . . 322 
 
 The Birthplace of Burns . . .J. Ramage .J. Godfrey. . . . 352 
 
 Map of the District of Ayrshire . . . , . facing page 328 
 
 WOOD CUTS. 
 
 Bums's Crest (On Title Page). 
 
 Fac-Similes of the Inscriptions in the two volumes of the 
 
 Bible presented by the Poet to " Highland Mary " Pages 292, 293 
 Interior of the kitchen Mossgiel " 324
 
 EXPLANATION. 
 
 At the head of each Poem, Song, or Letter, will be 
 recorded, where and when it was first published. 
 
 The Scotch words are printed in Italics, and their 
 English meaning, in small type, appears at the end of 
 each line. 
 
 The Chronological Notes of the Douglas Edition, as 
 explained in the Editor's Preface, being here mainly 
 used, are not signed ; all the other notes are recorded 
 by signature, or credited to their various editors. 
 
 The date of the compositions, and the age of the 
 Poet at the period, appear at the head of each alter- 
 nate page.
 
 POEMS AND SONGS. 
 
 SONG HANDSOME NELL. 
 
 Tune " I am a man unmarried." 
 (CURRIE, 1800.) 
 
 I never had the least thought or inclination of turning Poet 
 till I got once heartily in love, and then rhyme and song were, 
 in a manner, the spontaneous language of my heart. The fol- 
 lowing composition was the first of my performances. It is, 
 indeed, very puerile and silly; but I am always pleased with it, 
 as it recalls to my mind those happy days when my heart was 
 yet honest, and my tongue was sincere. Common-place Book, 
 August, 1783. 
 
 O ONCE I lov'd a borne lass, 
 
 Aye, and I love her still ; 
 And whilst that virtue warms my breast, 
 
 I'll love my handsome Nell. 
 
 As bonie lasses I hae seen, 
 
 And mony full as braw ; gaily dressed 
 
 But, for a modest gracefu' mien, 
 
 The like I never saw. 
 
 A bonie lass, I will confess, 
 
 Is pleasant to the e>e; cy* 
 
 But, without some better qualities, 
 
 She's no a lass for me. 
 L A
 
 2 POEMS AND SONGS. [1773, 
 
 But Nelly's looks are blythe and sweet, cheerful 
 And what is best of a\ a u 
 
 Her reputation is complete, 
 And fair without a flaw. 
 
 She dresses ay sae clean and neat, 
 
 Both decent and genteel ; 
 And then there's something in her gait 
 
 Gars ony dress look weel. makes wen 
 
 A gaudy dress and gentle air weii-bom 
 
 May slightly touch the heart ; 
 But it's innocence and modesty 
 
 That polishes the dart. 
 
 'Tis this in Nelly pleases me, 
 
 'Tis this enchants my soul ; 
 For absolutely in my breast 
 
 She reigns without controul. 
 
 [Dr. Currie transcribed this song very accurately from the poet's 
 Common-place Book, where it stands recorded under date April, 
 1783. Burns delighted to refer to the incident that gave rise to 
 these juvenile verses : Nelly Kirkpatrick, daughter of a black- 
 smith in the neighborhood of Mount Oliphant, inspired the song 
 in the harvest-field, in the autumn of 1773, when he was yet under 
 fifteen, or as some say seventeen, years old. We must refer the 
 reader to the bard's own account of this his first love-experience, 
 contained in the poem addressed to Mrs. Scott of Wauchope 
 House, and also in his autobiography ; meanwhile let us note how 
 early the power of music seems to have affected Burns. Speaking 
 of "Nell," he says: "Among other love-inspiring qualities, she 
 sang sweetly ; and it was her favourite reel to which I attempted 
 giving an embodied vehicle in rhyme." In his Common-place 
 Book, he has followed the record of it with an elaborate " criti- 
 cism," which shews how carefully he had been training himself for 
 lyric composition. Here is a sample : In the second couplet of 
 verse first "the expression is a little awkward, and the sentiment 
 too serious." "Stanza the second I am well pleased with 
 and I think it conveys a fine idea of a sweet, sonsy lass."* He 
 
 " Sonsy laas," a plump, well-conditioned lass. " Sonsiness " implies good-nature. 
 
 ~J. H.
 
 /ST. ISO POEMS AND SONGS. 8 
 
 condemns verses third and fourth ; but " the thoughts in the fifth 
 stanza come finely up to my favorite idea a sweet, sonsy lass." 
 He approves also of the sixth verse, " but the second and fourth 
 lines ending with short syllables, hurts the whole." "The seventh 
 stanza has several minute faults ; but I remember I composed it 
 in a wild enthusiasm of passion, and to this hour I never recollect 
 it, but my heart melts, and my blood sallies at the remembrance." 
 In 1786, Burns presented copies of some of his early pieces and 
 this among the rest to Mrs. Stewart of Stair, and in that MS. the 
 fourth verse is remodelled thus : 
 
 But Nelly's looks are blythe and sweet, 
 
 Good-humoured, frank, and free; 
 And still the more I view them o'er, 
 
 The more they captive me. 
 
 Verse fifth is wanting in the Stair MS. That the poet was not 
 satisfied with these variations is evident from the fact that he 
 afterwards transmitted the song to Johnson for publication in its 
 original form.] 
 
 HA&STEK FRAGMENT. harvest 
 
 Tune "I had a horse, and I had nae mair." 
 (ORIGINAL COMMON-PLACE BOOK, 1872.) 
 
 Another circumstance of my life, which made very consider- 
 able alteration on my mind and manners, was, that I spent my 
 seventeenth* summer a good distance from home, at a noted 
 school on a smuggling coast, to learn mensuration, surveying, 
 dialling, &c. ... I went on with a high hand in my geometry, 
 till the sun entered Virgo, a month which is always a carnival 
 in my bosom; a charming fillette, who lived next door to the 
 school, overset my trigonometry, &c. . . . The last two nights 
 of my stay in the country, had sleep been a mortal sin, I was 
 innocent. . . . 
 
 Song second was the ebullition of that passion which ended 
 the fore-mentioned school business. Autobiography. 
 
 Now breezy win's and slaughtering guns winds 
 
 Bring Autumn's pleasant weather, 
 
 : Dr. Currie and succeeding editors of Burns have printed this word " nine- 
 teenth ;" the above extract is made from the original MS. (Dr. Currie made the 
 correction, after due deliberation, on the authority of Gilbert Burns, who affirmed 
 that here and elsewhere the poet had understated his age by two years. J. H.)
 
 4 POEMS AND SONGS. [i775- 
 
 And the muircock springs on whirring wings 
 Amang the blooming heather. 
 
 Now waving crops, with yellow tops, 
 
 Delight the weary farmer, 
 An' the moon shines bright when I rove at night, 
 
 To muse . . . * 
 
 [The school was that of Kirkoswald, and the name of this 
 " charming fillette" was Peggy Thomson. Shortly prior to the first 
 publication of our author's poems she became the wife of a Mr. 
 Neilson at Kirkoswald an "old acquaintance" of Burns, "and a 
 most worthy fellow." When we come to give the song in its fin- 
 ished form (under date 1783), about which time, it seems, Burns 
 experienced a renewed fit of passion for Peggy, we shall give some 
 particulars regarding her history. See page 50. 
 
 Here we see that from the very beginning of the poet's attempts 
 at song-writing, he must have a tune to prompt his 
 musings. He early laid down this rule, that "to sowth w ^j le } 
 the tune over and over, is the readiest way to catch the 
 inspiration and raise the bard into that glorious enthusiasm so 
 strongly characteristic of old Scotch poetry."] 
 
 SONG O TIBBIE, I HAB SEEN THE DAY. 
 
 Isabella 
 Tune "Invercauld's Reel, or Strathspey." 
 
 (JOHNSON'S MUSEUM, 1788. COMPARED WITH C.-P. BOOK, 1872.) 
 
 Chor. O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, 
 
 Ye wadna been sae shy; would not 
 
 For laik o' gear ye lightly me, lack cash slight 
 
 But, trowth, I care na by. don't care 
 
 Yestreen I met you on the moor, yeater-eve 
 
 Ye spak na, but gaed by like stourejf 
 
 la the extended version, printed p. 50 this line reads "To muse upon my 
 charmer," but in the Common-place Book, after "To muse," a name, supposed 
 to be Jean Armour, is written in cypher, or short-hand. If this supposition i 
 correct, it only shews what "charmer " was uppermost in the poet's mind when 
 he made the entry in August, 1785. 
 
 t You spoke not, but went past like dust driven by the wind.
 
 17.] POEMS AND SONGS. 5 
 
 Ye geek at me because I'm poor, toes your head 
 But fient a hair care I. deuce 
 
 O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &c. 
 
 When comin hame on Sunday last, 
 Upon the road as I cam past, 
 Ye snufft an gae your head a cast gave 
 
 But trowth I care't na by. in truth 
 
 O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &c. 
 
 I doubt na, lass, but ye may think, 
 Because ye hae the name o' clink, cash 
 
 That ye can please me at a wink, 
 Whene'er ye like to try. 
 
 O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &c. 
 
 But sorrow tak him that's sae mean, 
 Altho' his pouch o' coin were clean, pocket 
 
 Wha follows ony saucy quean, wench 
 
 That looks sae proud and high. 
 
 O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &c. 
 
 Altho' a lad were e'er sae smart, 
 If that he want the yellow dirt, gold 
 
 Ye' 11 cast your head anither airt, direction 
 
 And answer him fu' dry. 
 
 O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &c. 
 
 But if he hae the name o' gear, money 
 
 Ye' 11 fasten to him like a brier, 
 Tho' hardly he, for sense or lear, learning 
 
 Be better than the kye. kine 
 
 O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &c. 
 
 But, Tibbie, lass, tak my advice: 
 Your daddie's gear maks you sae nice;
 
 POEMS AND SONGS. [1775. 
 
 The deil a ane wad spier your price, would ask 
 Were ye as poor as I. 
 
 O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &c. 
 
 There lives a lass beside yon park, 
 
 I'd rather hae her in her sark, have chemise 
 
 Than you wi' a' your thousand mark; * 
 
 That gars you look sae high. makes 
 
 O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &c. 
 
 [A little controversy has arisen regarding the date of this song. 
 In the poet's Glenriddell notes, he expressly says of it: "This 
 song I composed about the age of seventeen." Mrs. Begg, on the 
 other hand (who, by the way, was only five years old when her 
 brother was seventeen), insisted that the Tibbie of the song was 
 Isabella Stein, of Tarbolton Parish. In a note to the present 
 writer, she says: "Tibbie Stein lived at Little Hill, a farm march- 
 ing with that of L,ochlea : that the song was written upon her was 
 well known in the neighborhood, no one doubting it." 
 
 With all deference, we are inclined to adhere to the poet's direct 
 statement, and regard this as a Mount Oliphant incident, following 
 immediately after the summer he spent at Kirkoswald. We feel 
 greatly strengthened in this opinion by a corresponding record of 
 Burns, the correctness of which has also been much controverted 
 by his brothers and sisters. It is this: "In my seventeenth year 
 (i. e., 1775, two years before the Lochlea period), to give my man- 
 ners a brush, I went to a country dancing-school. My father had 
 an unaccountable antipathy against these meetings ; and my going 
 was, what to this hour I repent, in absolute defiance of his com- 
 mands. ' ' f 
 
 The second stanza and the closing one are both wanting in 
 Johnson's Museum. They are inserted here from the Common- 
 place Book. Dr. Currie's version of the concluding stanza reads 
 thus: 
 
 There lives a lass in yonder park, 
 
 I wadna gie her in her sark 
 For thee, wi' a' thy thousan' mark; 
 
 Ye needna look sae high.] 
 
 * The mark was a Scottish coin worth ly. ifL. Scots, or is. I J^rf. sterling, of 
 a6J4 cents. 
 
 t There is some question regarding the chronology here, and most commenta 
 tors place the school at Tarbolton. J. H.
 
 Sft. 17.3 POEMS AND SONGS. 
 
 SONG I DREAM' D I LAY. 
 
 (JOHNSON'S MUSEUM, 1788.) 
 
 These two stanzas I composed when I was seventeen, and 
 are among the oldest of my printed pieces. Glenriddell Notes 
 in Cromek. 
 
 I DREAM' D I lay where flowers were springing 
 
 Gaily in the sunny beam; 
 L,ist'ning to the wild birds singing, 
 
 By a falling crystal stream: 
 Straight the sky grew black and daring; 
 
 Thro' the woods the whirlwinds rave; 
 Trees with aged arms were warring, 
 
 O'er the swelling drumlie wave. muddy 
 
 Such was my life's deceitful morning, 
 
 Such the pleasures I enjoy' d: 
 But lang or noon, loud tempests storming, ere 
 
 A' my flowery bliss destroy 'd. u 
 
 Tho' fickle fortune has deceiv'd me 
 
 She promis'd fair, and perform' d but ill, 
 Of mony a joy and hope bereav'd me many 
 
 I bear a heart shall support me still. 
 
 [There can be no doubt that this production was suggested to 
 the young lyrist by his admiration of Mrs. Cockburn's song, " I've 
 seen the smiling of Fortune beguiling," which, about the year 
 1764, found its way into miscellaneous collections of song. It 
 appeared in one of these published in that year, called The Black- 
 bird ; and also in a like miscellany entitled The Charmer, and in 
 another named The Lark (both of the latter dated 1765). Any 
 one of them may have been that " Select Collection " which, he 
 tells us, was his vade mecum before the Burness family removed 
 from Mount Oliphant. 
 
 The poet again and again reverts to the last four lines of this 
 song, as if the conning them over yielded him some comfort 
 "At the close of that dreadful period" his distress at Irvine he
 
 8 POEMS AND SONGS. [1776. 
 
 adopted these lines as the opening of a little "sang to soothe hia 
 misery," only altering line third to suit his altered circumstances, 
 thus: 
 
 Of mistress, friends and wealth bereaved me. 
 
 But the embryo minstrel, in composing the present song, had 
 Mrs. Cockburn's Flowers of the Forest rather too much in his eye; 
 for he not only copied her ideas, but her very expressions. For 
 her "silver streams shining in the sunny beams," we have here 
 the tyro's "crystal stream" falling "gaily in the sunny beam." 
 The river Tweed of Mrs. Cockburn "grows drumly and dark," and 
 BO does the streamlet of the young dreamer become a "swelling 
 drumlie wave." The lady hears "loud tempests storming before 
 the mid-day," and so does the boy Burns hear "lang or noon, loud 
 tempests storming." Finally, the authoress is "perplexed" with 
 the "sporting of fickle fortune," and our poet is wretchedly "de- 
 ceived" by the ill-performed promises of the same "fickle for- 
 tune;" and, not to be outdone by the lady's defiance of fortune's 
 frowns, the independent youngster boasts that he "bears a heart 
 shall support him still." Robert Chambers refers to these simili- 
 tudes in his last remarks on this song.] 
 
 SONG IN THE CHARACTER OF A RUINED 
 FARMER. 
 
 Tune " Go from my window, Love, do." 
 (CHAMBERS, 1852, COMPARED WITH THE ORJG. MS.) 
 
 THE sun he is sunk in the west, 
 All creatures retired to rest, 
 While here I sit, all sore beset, 
 
 With sorrow, grief, and woe : 
 And it's O, fickle Fortune, O I 
 
 The prosperous man is asleep, 
 
 Nor hears how the whirlwinds sweep ; 
 
 But Misery and I must watch 
 
 The surly tempest blow ; 
 And it's O, fickle Fortune, O I
 
 18.] POEMS AND SONGS. 
 
 There lies the dear partner of my breast; 
 Her cares for a moment at rest: 
 Must I see thee, my youthful pride, 
 
 Thus brought so very low! 
 And it's O, fickle Fortune, O! 
 
 There lie my sweet babies in her arms; 
 No anxious fear their little hearts alarms; 
 But for their sake my heart does ache, 
 With many a bitter throe: 
 And it's O, fickle Fortune, O! 
 
 I once was by Fortune carest: 
 I once could relieve the distrest: 
 Now life's poor support, hardly earn'd, 
 
 My fate will scarce bestow: 
 And it's O, fickle Fortune, O! 
 
 No comfort, no comfort I have! 
 How welcome to me were the grave! 
 But then my wife and children dear 
 O, whither would they go! 
 And it's O, fickle Fortune, O! 
 
 O whither, O whither shall I turn! 
 All friendless, forsaken, forlorn! 
 For, in this world, Rest or Peace 
 
 I never more shall know! 
 And it's O, fickle Fortune, O! 
 
 [The original of this early production is in the possession of 
 William Nelson, Esq., Edinburgh. It is a stray leaf from a col- 
 lection formerly known as the Stair MS., now dissevered and 
 scattered abroad. The " ruined farmer " here is undoubtedly 
 meant as a presentment of the author's father bravely struggling 
 to weather out his hard fate at Mount Oliphant, As a pathetic
 
 10 POEMS AND SONGS. [1777. 
 
 dirge, it is the best illustration of the following passage in the 
 poet's autobiography : 
 
 " The farm proved a ruinous bargain. . . . My father was 
 advanced in life when he married. I was the eldest of seven 
 children, and he, worn out by early hardship, was unfit for labour. 
 My father's spirit was soon irritated, but not easily broken. 
 There was a freedom in his lease in two years more ; and to 
 weather these two years we retrenched expenses," &c.] 
 
 TRAGIC FRAGMENT. 
 
 (FROM THE POET'S MS. IN THE MONUMENT AT EDINBURGH, 
 WITH HEADING FROM CROMEK, 1808.) 
 
 In my early years, nothing less would serve me than court- 
 ing the Tragic Muse. I was, I think, about eighteen or nine- 
 teen when I sketched the outlines of a tragedy forsooth ; but 
 the bursting of a cloud of family misfortunes, which had for 
 some time threatened us, prevented my farther progress. In 
 those days I never wrote down anything ; so, except a speech 
 or two, the whole has escaped my memory. The following, 
 which I most distinctly remember, was an exclamation from 
 a great character great in occasional instances of generosity, 
 and daring at times in villanies. He is supposed to meet 
 with a child of misery, and exclaims to himself 
 
 villain as I am a damned wretch, 
 A hardened, stubborn, unrepenting sinner, 
 Still my heart melts at human wretchedness; 
 And with sincere but unavailing sighs 
 I view the helpless children of distress: 
 With tears indignant I behold the oppressor 
 Rejoicing in the honest man's destruction, 
 Whose unsubmitting heart was all his crime. 
 Bv'n you, ye hapless crew! I pity you; 
 Ye, whom the seeming good think sin to pity; 
 Ye poor, despised, abandoned vagabonds, 
 Whom Vice, as usual, has turn'd o'er to ruin.
 
 aJT. 19.] POEMS AND SONGS. H 
 
 Oh! but for friends and interposing Heaven, 
 I had been driven forth like you forlorn, 
 The most detested, worthless wretch among you! 
 O injured God! Thy goodness has endow' d me 
 With talents passing most of my compeers, 
 Which I in just proportion have abused 
 As far surpassing other common villains 
 As Thou in natural parts has given me more. 
 
 [Notwithstanding the author's own authority for classing the 
 foregoing with his very earliest efforts in poetical composition, it 
 seems to have undergone revision and amendment at a later 
 period. The copy we print from is perhaps a stray leaf of the 
 Common-place Book, or manuscript collection of his early pieces, 
 referred to by Alexander Smith as having been presented by Burns 
 to Mrs. Dunlop. It varies somewhat from the copy inserted in 
 the original Common-place Book now at Greenock. The version 
 we adopt has the following heading 
 
 A Fragment in the Hour of Remorse, on Seeing a Fellow-Creature in 
 Misery, whom I had once known in Better Days. 
 
 The "human wretchedness" deplored in this pathetic soliloquy 
 was that of the suffering household at Mount Oliphant, which the 
 poet has so touchingly recorded in his autobiography. We have 
 in these lines a glance at the tyrant factor, and his "insolent 
 threatening epistles, which used to set us all in tears," 
 
 With tears indignant I behold the oppressor 
 Rejoicing in the honest man's destruction, 
 Whose unsubmitting heart was all his crime, 
 
 in which last line we discern the "stubborn, ungainly integrity" 
 of the poet's noble father. The speaker's sympathy for "poor, de- 
 spised, abandoned vagabonds," corresponds in spirit with that pas- 
 sage in the Common-place Book, of date March, 1784, where he in- 
 troduces this Fragment. Cromek, in 1808. first published the 
 piece ; but his copy wants the five closing lines, which accordingly 
 we infer were added by the poet in 1784. Cromek's version was 
 printed from a copy found among the poet's papers, headed with 
 the introductory narrative prefixed to the text. It is curious to 
 find Burns thus early attempting dramatic composition ; but it is 
 certain that William Burness had a few of Shakespeare's plays 
 among the books on his shelf at Mount Oliphant.}
 
 12 POEMS AND SONGS. 
 
 THE TARBOLTON LASSES. 
 (CHAMBERS, 1851.) 
 
 IF ye gae up to yon hill-tap, go bin-top 
 
 Ye' 11 there see bonie Peggy; 
 
 She kens her father is a laird, knows land-owner 
 
 And she forsooth' s a leddy. lady 
 
 There Sophy tight, a lassie bright, 
 
 Besides a handsome fortune: 
 Wha canna win her in a night, who cannot 
 
 Has little art in courtin. 
 
 Gae down by Faile,* and taste the ale, ., 
 
 And tak a look o' Mysie ; Maria 
 
 She's dour and din, a deil within, uiien saiiow 
 But aiblins she may please ye. 
 
 If she be shy, her sister try, 
 
 Ye' 11 may be fancy Jenny; po*apa 
 
 If ye' 11 dispense wi' want o' sense-* 
 
 She kens hersel she's bonie. know* 
 
 As ye gae up by yon hillside, 
 
 Speer in for bonie Bessy; caii awUnquire 
 
 She'll gie ye a beck, and bid ye light, curtaey 
 
 And handsomely address ye. 
 
 There's few sae bonie, nane sa guid, none so good 
 
 In a' King George' dominion; 
 If ye should doubt the truth o' this 
 
 It's Bessy's ain opinion! owa 
 
 Hamlet of Faile, near Tarbolton. JT. H.
 
 2BT. 20.] POEMS AND SONGS. 13 
 
 [Here we have a little of the "satirical seasoning" referred to 
 by David Sillar, in note to next piece, and of which we have 
 already seen a good sample in his address to "Saucy Tibbie." 
 These verses, however, can hardly be considered as a song, and 
 as Chambers has observed they are strikingly inferior to the 
 poet's average efforts. It is rather singular that Chambers does 
 not state where he got these lines, and on what grounds he 
 became satisfied of their authenticity.] 
 
 AH, WOE IS ME, MY MOTHER DEAR. 
 
 Paraphrase of Jeremiah, i^th Chap., loth verse. 
 (GI,ENRIDDEI,I, MSS., 1874.) 
 
 AH, woe is me, my Mother dear! 
 
 A man of strife ye've born me: 
 For sair contention I maun bear : sore must 
 
 They hate, revile, and scorn me; 
 
 I ne'er could lend on bill or band, bond 
 
 That five per cent, might blest me ; have west 
 
 And borrowing, on the tither hand, other 
 
 The de'il a ane wad trust me. r> iaonewo*w 
 
 Yet I, a coin-denied wight, penniless 
 
 By Fortune quite discarded; 
 Ye see how I am, day and night, 
 
 By lad and lass blackguarded! 
 
 [Burns in 1785 records the remark "I don't well know what 
 is the reason of it, but somehow or other though I am, when 
 I have a mind, pretty generally beloved ; yet I never could get 
 the art of commanding respect.''' Again, referring to his early 
 boyhood, he says in his autobiography: "At those years, I was 
 by no means a favorite with anybody." David Sillar, speaking 
 of Burns in 1781, says : "His social disposition easily procured 
 him acquaintances ; but a certain satirical seasoning, while it set 
 the rustic circle in a roar, was not unaccompanied by its kin- 
 dred attendant, suspicious fear. I recollect hearing his neighbours
 
 14 POEMS AND SONGS. [77791 
 
 observe he had a great deal to say for himself, but that they 
 suspected his principles. He wore the only tied hair in the 
 parish ; and in the church, his plaid, which was of a particular 
 colour, I think fillcmot* was wrapped in a particular manner 
 round his shoulders." The poet's account of himself in the text 
 has suggested the above quotations ; but we feel rather at a loss 
 to fix the particular period of composition. The verses stand re- 
 corded in the Glenriddell volume at Liverpool, in the poet's 
 autograph, without any indication of date ; but it may be assumed 
 that he would be at least twenty-one years old before he could 
 be concerned in "bills and bonds." 
 
 A corrupt copy of the verses occurs in the Ettrick Shepherd's 
 Memoir of Burns, 1834, where they are entitled "Stanzas com- 
 posed while sitting between the stilts of the plough." It seems 
 that Burns had inscribed this paraphrase from Jeremiah on the 
 fly-leaf of his own copy of Fergusson's Poems. That relic is now 
 in the possession of J. T. Gibson-Craig, Esq., Edinburgh. Hogg 
 may have seen that production, and quoted the words from 
 memory. The words paraphrased are as follows : "Woe is me, my 
 mother, thou hast born me a man of strife, and a man of conten- 
 tion to the whole earth. I have neither lent 011 usury, nor men 
 have lent to me on usury; yet every one of them doth curse me."] 
 
 MONTGOMERIE'S PEGGY. 
 (CROMEK, 1808.) 
 
 AI/THO' my bed were in yon muir, 
 
 Amang the heather, in my plaidie; 
 Yet happy, happy would I be, 
 
 Had I my dear Montgomerie's Peggy. 
 
 When o'er the hill beat surly storms, 
 And winter nights were dark and rainy; 
 
 I'd seek some dell, and in my arms 
 I'd shelter dear Montgomerie's Peggy. 
 
 Were I a Baron proud and high, 
 
 And horse and servants waiting ready; 
 
 Then a' ^twad gie d* joy to me, 'twould give i 
 The sharin V with Montgomerie's Peggy, sharing of it 
 
 A yellow-brown colour from fcuille morte, a dead leaf.
 
 4JT. 21.] POEMS AND SONGS. 15 
 
 [Speaking of the earlier portion of the seven years he spent in 
 Tarbolton Parish (1777 to 1784), the poet says he felt as much 
 pleasure in being in the secret of half the amours in the parish, 
 as ever did Premier in knowing the intrigues of half the courts in 
 Europe. " Moutgomerie's Peggy," he tells us, was a deity of his 
 own for six or eight months. "I began the affair," he says, 
 " merely in a gaiete de caeur, or, to tell the truth (what would 
 scarcely be believed), a vanity of showing my parts in courtship, 
 particularly my abilities at a billet-doux, which I always piqued 
 myself upon, made me lay siege to her." Mrs. Begg, in her notes 
 regarding this affair, says : ' ' The lady was housekeeper at Coils- 
 field House ; my brother Robert had met her frequently at Tar- 
 both Mill ; they sat in the same church, and contracted an in- 
 timacy together ; but she was engaged to another before ever they 
 met. So, on her part, it was nothing but amusement, and on 
 Burns' part, little more, from the way he speaks of it"] (The 
 Rev. Geo. Gilfillan, in his edition, says she became Mrs. Derbi- 
 shire, and lived in London. J. H.) 
 
 THE PLOUGHMAN'S LIFE. 
 (CROMEK, 1808.) 
 
 As I was a- wand' ring ae morning in spring, one 
 
 I heard a young ploughman sae sweetly to sing; s 
 And as he was singin', thir words he did say, these 
 There's nae life like the ploughman's in the month o' 
 sweet May. no 
 
 lark from 
 
 The laverock in the morning she'll rise frae her nest, 
 And mount i' the air wi' the dew on her breast, 
 And wi' the merry ploughman she'll whistle and sing, 
 And at night she'll return to her nest back again. 
 
 [Gilbert Burns expressed to Cromek a strong doubt regarding 
 his brother's authorship of these lines, as also of some other 
 pieces found in his handwriting, and included with the Reliqucs 
 of the Poet ; but as the authorship of the " Bonie Muirhen " one 
 of the pieces referred to has been since clearly traced to Burns, 
 we do not feel at liberty to reject the lines in the text}
 
 18 POEMS AND SONGS. 
 
 THE RONALDS OF THE BENNALS. 
 
 (CHAMBERS, 1851.) 
 
 IN Tarbolton, ye ken, there are proper young men, faun* 
 
 And proper young lasses and a', man; 
 But ken ye the Ronalds that live in the Bennals, 
 
 They carry the gree frae them a',* man. 
 
 Their father's a laird, and weel he can spare' t, land-owner 
 Braid money to tocher them a', man; broad dower 
 
 To proper young men, he'll clink in the hand count 
 Gowd guineas a hundred or twa, man. gold 
 
 There's ane they ca j Jean, I'll warrant ye've seen can 
 As bonie a lass or as braw, man; finely dressed 
 
 But for sense and guid taste she'll vie wi' the best, 
 And a conduct that beautifies a', man. 
 
 The charms o' the mirf, the langer they shine, mind 
 The mair admiration they draw, man; mow 
 
 While peaches and cherries, and roses and lilies, 
 They fade and they wither awa, man. 
 
 If ye be for Miss Jean, tak this frae afrieri* from a Mend 
 
 A hint o' a rival or twa, man; 
 The Laird o' Blackbyre wad gang through the fire, 
 
 If that wad entice her awa, man. would go 
 
 The Laird o' Braehead has been on his speed, 
 
 For mair than a towmond or twa, man; twelvemonths 
 
 The Laird o' the Ford will str aught on a board, be laid out 
 If he canna get her at a', man. cannot 
 
 * Bear the palm from them alL
 
 *JT. 22.] POEMS AND SONGS. 17 
 
 Then Anna comes in, the pride o' her kin, 
 
 The boast of our bachelors a', man: 
 Sae sonsy and sweet, sae fully complete, bnxom 
 
 She steals our affections awa, man. 
 
 If I should detail the pick and the wale choice 
 
 O' lasses that live hereawa^ man, hereabout 
 
 They^wV wad be mine if they didna shine feuit 
 The sweetest and best o' them a', man. 
 
 I lo'e her mysel, but darena weel tell, d not well 
 
 My poverty keeps me in awe, man; 
 For making o' rhymes, and working at times, 
 
 Does little or naething at a\ man. 
 
 Yet I wadna choose to let her refuse, would not 
 
 Nor hae>t in her power to say na, man: have it 
 
 For though I be poor, unnoticed, obscure, 
 My stomach's as proud as them a', man. 
 
 Though I canna ride in weel-booted pride, 
 
 And flee o'er the hills like a craw, man, crow 
 
 I can hand up my head wi' the best o' the breed, hold 
 
 Though fluttering ever so braw^ man. fine 
 
 My coat and my vest, they are Scotch o' the best, 
 O' pairs o' guid breeks I hae twa, man; breeches have 
 
 And stockings and pumps to put on my stumps, 
 And ne'er a wrang steek in them a', man. stitch 
 
 My sarks they are few, but five o' them new, hiru 
 Twal' hundred,* as white as the snaw, man, 
 
 A ten-shillings hat, a Holland cravat; 
 
 There are no mony poets sae braw^ man. fine 
 
 * Woven in a reed of 1200 divisions, and therefore considerably coarser than 
 the " 1700 linen " spoken of in Tarn o' Shanter. 
 
 L B
 
 18 POEMS AND SONGS. 
 
 T -LJ.T 7 j i.'j ' friends well sup- 
 
 I never had freens weel stockit in means, p ii e d with 
 To leave me a hundred or twa, man ; well . 
 
 Nae weel-tocher 1 d aunts, to wait on their drants, dower-d 
 And wish them in hell for it a', man. 
 
 I never was cannie for hoarding o' money, prudent 
 
 Or claughtin V together at a', man; grasping it 
 
 I've little to spend, and naething to lend, 
 
 But deevil a shilling I awe, man. owe 
 
 [The Bennals is a farm in the western part of the parish of Tar- 
 bolton, near Afton Lodge, about five miles from I/ochlea. The two 
 young women spoken of in this piece were the predominant belles 
 of the district; being good-looking, fairly educated, and the children 
 of a man reputed wealthy. Gilbert Burns wooed the elder sister, 
 Jeanie Ronald, who, after a lengthened correspondence, refused him 
 on account of his poverty. She became the wife of John Reid, a 
 farmer at Langlands, not far from the Bennals. The younger 
 sister, Annie, appears to have taken the poet's fancy a little; but 
 he was too proud to afford her a chance of refusing him. 
 
 A few years after this period, one of the bard's letters gives us a 
 glimpse of the "ups and downs of life" in connection with the 
 Ronalds of the Bennals. Writing to his brother William in 
 November, 1789, he says: "The only Ayrshire news that I remem- 
 ber in which I think you will be interested, is that Mr. Ronald is 
 bankrupt. You will easily guess, that from his insolent vanity in 
 his sunshine of life, he will feel a little retaliation from those who 
 thought themselves eclipsed by him." 
 
 Chambers has neglected to state whence he derived these verses ; 
 he merely indicates that they had appeared fugitively somewhere 
 before he gave them a fixed place among the author's works. 
 The small lairdships referred to in the fifth and sixth verses can- 
 not be found in the Ordnance Map of Tarbolton parish; but more 
 than one "Braehead" appears in the neighbouring parishes. 
 "Ford" may be a contraction of Failford, near Tarbolton.] 
 
 SONG HERE'S TO THY HEALTH. 
 (JOHNSON'S MUSEUM, 1796.) 
 
 HERE'S to thy health, my bonie lass, 
 Gude night and j'oy be wi' thee \
 
 T. 22. J POEMS AND SONGS. 19 
 
 I'll come nae mair to thy bower-door, no more 
 
 To tell thee that I Itfe thee. lore 
 
 dinna think, my pretty pink, do not 
 But I can live without thee: 
 
 1 vow and swear I dinna care, 
 How lang ye look about ye. 
 
 Thou'rt ay sae free informing me, 
 
 Thou hast nae mind to marry; 
 I'll be as free informing thee, 
 
 Nae time hae I to tarry: hare 
 
 I ken thy freens try ilka means know Wends every 
 
 Frae wedlock to delay thee; from 
 
 Depending on some higher chance, 
 
 But fortune may betray thee. 
 
 I ken they scorn my low estate, 
 
 But that does never grieve me; 
 For I'm as free as any he; man 
 
 Sma 1 siller will relieve me. littio 
 
 I'll count my health my greatest wealth, 
 
 Sae lang as I'll enjoy it; 
 I'll fear nae scant, I'll bode nae want, scarcity forbode 
 
 As lang's as I get employment. 
 
 But far off fowls hae feathers fair, 
 
 And, ay until ye try them, 
 Tho' they seem fair, still have a care; 
 
 They may prove as bad as I am. 
 But at twal at night, when the moon shines bright, 
 
 My dear, I'll come and see thee; 
 For the man that loves his mistress weel, 
 
 Nae travel makes him weary. 
 
 [Against our own instincts, we were at one time disposed to ex- 
 clude this production from Burns' collected pieces, in deference to 
 the dictum of his sister, Mrs. Begg, who pronounced it to be one 
 of those familiar ditties commonly sung at rural firesides before 
 his efforts in that way were known. The poet sent the song, along
 
 20 POEMS AND SONGS. [1780. 
 
 with its very sprightly melody, to Johnson at some unascertained 
 period; but it did not appear in the Museum till the year of the 
 author's death, and his name is there attached to it. The words 
 are not found in any collection of date prior to their publication 
 in Johnson's work; and as Mrs. Begg would be no more than ten 
 years old when, as we conjecture, this song was composed by hei 
 brother, she might naturally, at some after period, mistake it for 
 an old song. It is in every respect characteristic of Burns' manner 
 and sentiments in early manhood; and the strathspey tune to 
 which it is set, suggests his early dancing-school experiences, and 
 the occasional balls of the Tarbolton Bachelors.] 
 
 THE LASS OF CESSNOCK BANKS.* 
 
 (AI.DINE ED., 1839.) 
 
 ON Cessnock banks a lassie dwells, 
 Could I describe her shape and mien; 
 
 Our lasses a' she far excels, 
 
 An' she has twa sparkling rogueish een. ey 
 
 She's sweeter than the morning dawn, 
 
 When rising Phoebus first is seen; 
 And dew-drops twinkle o'er the lawn; 
 
 An' she has twa sparkling rogueish een. 
 
 She's stately like yon youthful ash, 
 
 That grows the cowslip braes between, height! 
 And drinks the stream with vigour fresh; 
 
 An' she has twa sparkling rogueish een. 
 
 She's spotless like the flow' ring thorn, 
 With flow'rs so white and leaves so green, 
 
 When purest in the dewy morn; 
 
 An' she has twa sparkling rogueish een. 
 
 Cessnock " Water," flows from the southeast, passes close by Mauchline and 
 Mossgiel, and falls into the Irvine about midway between Kilmarnock and 
 Galston. J. H.
 
 22.] POEMS AND SONGS. 21 
 
 Her looks are like the vernal May, 
 When ev'ning Phoebus shines serene; 
 
 While birds rejoice on every spray; 
 
 An' she has twa sparkling rogueish een. 
 
 Her hair is like the curling mist, 
 
 That climbs the mountain-sides at e'en, 
 
 When flow'r-reviving rains are past; 
 
 An' she has twa sparkling rogueish een. 
 
 Her forehead's like the show'ry bow, 
 When gleaming sunbeams intervene 
 
 And gild the distant mountain's brow; 
 An' she has twa sparkling rogueish een. 
 
 Her cheeks are like yon crimson gem, 
 
 The pride of all the flowery scene, 
 Just opening on its thorny stem; 
 
 An' she has twa sparkling rogueish een. 
 
 Her bosom's like the nightly snow, 
 When pale the morning rises keen; 
 
 While hid the murm'ring streamlets flow; 
 An' she has twa sparkling rogueish een. 
 
 Her lips are like yon cherries ripe, 
 That sunny walls from Boreas screen; 
 
 They tempt the taste and charm the sight; 
 An' she has twa sparkling rogueish een. 
 
 Her teeth are like a flock of sheep, 
 With fleeces newly washen clean; 
 
 That slowly mount the rising steep; 
 
 An' she has twa sparkling rogueish een.
 
 22 POEMS AND SONGS. [1780 
 
 Her breath is like the fragrant breeze, 
 That gently stirs the blossom' d bean; 
 
 When Phoebus sinks behind the seas; 
 An' she has twa sparkling rogueish een. 
 
 Her voice is like the ev'ning thrush, 
 That sings on Cessnock banks unseen ; 
 
 While his mate sits nestling in the bush; 
 An' she has twa sparkling rogueish een. 
 
 But it's not her air, her form, her face, 
 Tho' matching beauty's fabled queen; 
 
 'Tis the mind that shines in ev'ry grace, 
 An' chiefly in her rogueish een. 
 
 [This must have been composed just before the poet's short 
 sojourn in the town of Irvine. He was passionately in love 
 with the subject of this poem, or "Song of Similes," as it has 
 been called. Her name was Ellison Begbie, her father being a 
 small farmer in Galston parish, and she herself at that time in 
 service with a family who resided near Cessnock water, about 
 two miles northeast from I^ochlea. Burns has made no distinct 
 reference to her in his autobiography, although she seems to 
 have been the heroine of a few of his most admired lyrics. 
 His sister, Mrs. Begg, about thirty years ago, first revealed the 
 fact that the four love-letters to "My dear E." in Currie's first 
 edition (and which were withdrawn from subsequent issues of 
 that work) were addressed to Ellison Begbie, who, after some 
 intimacy and correspondence, rejected his suit, and soon married 
 another lover. Referring to his desponding condition at Irvine, 
 he writes : " To crown my distress, a belle-fille whom I adored, 
 and who had pledged her soul to meet me in the field of matri- 
 mony, jilted me with peculiar circumstances of mortification." 
 This misleading allusion, viewed in connection with the letters he 
 addressed to her, and with what he had written in his Common- 
 place Book about " Montgomerie's Peggy," created much confu- 
 sion in the minds of the poet's annotators, until Mrs. Begg set 
 these matters right. 
 
 As might be predicated of one who could inspire sentiments and 
 imagery like those contained in these verses, the subject of them 
 is described by the poet's sister as having been a superior person, 
 and a general favourite in her neighbourhood. Burns himself, in
 
 JJT. 22.] POEMS AND SONGS. 23 
 
 one of his letters, thus addresses her : " All these charming 
 qualities, heightened by an education much beyond anything I 
 have ever met in any woman I ever dared to approach, have 
 made an impression on my heart that I do not think the world 
 can ever efface." 
 
 Crouiek, in 1808, first made the world acquainted with this 
 production, in a somewhat imperfect form. He traced out the 
 subject of it as a married lady resident in Glasgow, and from 
 her own lips noted down the words to the extent of her recol- 
 lection. Pickering's version, here given, was printed from the 
 poet's manuscript, recovered from some other source. A whole 
 stanza is devoted to each of her charms, commencing with her 
 "twa sparkling rogueish een," and embracing every personal and 
 mental grace. At verse six he comes to her hair, and there- 
 after in succession he descants on her forehead, her cheeks, her 
 bosom, her lips, her teeth, her breath, her voice, and lastly her 
 mind. At verse nine, through an awkward inadvertency in 
 transcribing, he sets down "Her teeth" instead of "Her bosom," 
 to which the similitude used very appropriately applies ; and the 
 teeth of his charmer have full justice done them in stanza eleven. 
 This slip of the pen on the transcriber's part we have here cor- 
 rected. In the MS. the author has directed the words to be 
 sung to the tune of "If he be a butcher neat and trim " what- 
 ever that air may be ; which confirms his own statement that he 
 could never compose a lyric without crooning a melody in his 
 mind, to aid his inspiration and regulate the rhythm of his 
 Verses.] 
 
 SONG BONIE PEGGY ALISON. 
 
 Tune "The Braes o' Balquhidder." 
 (JOHNSON'S MUSEUM, 1788.) 
 
 Chor. And I'll kiss thee yet, yet, 
 
 And I'll kiss thee o'er again; 
 And I'll kiss thee yet, yet, 
 My bonie Peggy Alison. 
 
 Ilk care and fear when thou art near, 
 I ever mair defy them, O !
 
 24 POEMS AND SONGS. [17801 
 
 Young kings upon their hansel throne * 
 Are no sae blest as I am, O ! 
 
 And I'll kiss thee yet, yet, &c. 
 
 When in my arms, wi' a' thy charms, 
 I clasp my countless treasure, O ! 
 
 I seek nae mair o' Heaven to share no more 
 
 Than sic a moment's pleasure, O! such 
 
 And I'll kiss thee yet, yet, &c. 
 
 And by thy een sae bonie blue, eyes so 
 
 I swear I'm thine for ever, O ! 
 And on thy lips I seal my vow, 
 
 And break it shall I never, O ! 
 
 And I'll kiss thee yet, yet, &c. 
 
 [This and the song which immediately follows {Mary M 'orison) 
 long went wandering in search of the living originals ; but no fair 
 damsels nor sonsie lasses in the parish of Tarbolton, bearing such 
 names, were ever heard of. The poet, in sending the latter song 
 to George Thomson, expressly told him it was "a juvenile produc- 
 tion; " and as he at the same time admitted that all his earlier 
 love-songs were the breathings of real passion a legend of his 
 heart being inscribed on each of them a "heroine-hunt" for the 
 inspirers of them was the eventful result. Gilbert Burns was 
 applied to for information regarding Mary Morison, and he replied 
 that she was also the subject of some light verses, beginning, 
 "And I'll kiss thee yet." This clue suggested to the present 
 writer that the poet had simply disguised these juvenile produc- 
 tions by altering the names a little. Mrs. Begg's information re- 
 garding her brother's earnest passion for the Lass of Cessnock 
 Banks Ellison, or Alison Begbie, by name started the natural 
 idea that Burns must have attempted to weave her name into 
 some snatch of song. Her surname, however, being so very 
 prosaic and un tunable, what was a poor poet to do? His object 
 could be attained only by compromise, and that might be accom- 
 plished to some extent by transposing Alison Begbie into " Peggy 
 Alison." Let us take for granted that such was the case with 
 
 *" Hansel" means the first-fruit of an achievement, or of a particular field, or 
 season ; hence a gift at some particular season, at the New Year, or on some 
 particular occasion, is so called. The term " maiden throne " would explain the 
 poet's phrase here. J. H.
 
 T. 22.] POEMS AND SONGS. 25 
 
 the song in our text, and then it follows that Ellison Begbie was 
 also the inspirer of its charming companion-song, Mary Morison. 
 The character of "My dear E," is displayed in every line of it: 
 
 A thought ungentle canna be 
 The thought of Peggy Ellison. 
 
 Only the two latter stanzas of the text, with the chorus, are 
 .given in Johnson's publication. The opening verse is from 
 Cromek (1808). Stephen Clarke, the musical editor of the 
 Museum, inscribed on the printer's copy of the music his feelings 
 in these words: "I am charmed with this song almost as much 
 as the lover is with Peggy Alison."] 
 
 SONG MARY MORISON. 
 
 (CURRTE, I8OO.) 
 
 O MARY, at thy window be, 
 
 It is the wish'd, the try s ted hour ! appointed 
 
 Those smiles and glances let me see, 
 
 That make the miser's treasure poor : 
 How blythely wad I bide the stoure, endure the turmoil 
 
 A weary slave frae sun to sun, from 
 
 Could I the rich reward secure, 
 
 The lovely Mary Morison. 
 
 Yestreen, when to the trembling string 
 
 The dance gaed thro' the lighted ha', went 
 
 To thee my fancy took its wing, 
 
 I sat, but neither heard nor saw: 
 Tho' this was fair, and that was braw, gay 
 
 And yon the toast of a' the town, 
 I sigh'd, and said amang them a', 
 
 "Ye are na Mary Morison." not 
 
 Oh, Mary, canst thou wreck his peace, 
 
 Wha for thy sake wad gladly die ? would 
 
 Or canst thou break that heart of his, 
 
 Whase only faut is loving thee? whose &uit
 
 26 POEMS AND SONGS. [1781. 
 
 If love for love thou wilt na gie^ not give 
 
 At least be pity to me shown; 
 A thought ungentle canna be cannot 
 
 The thought o' Mary Morison." 
 
 [The long note to the preceding song will help to shorten 
 this one, as it is held to apply to the same subject. The "tremb- 
 ling string," and the "lighted ha'" of the second stanza could 
 in reality refer only to the earnest efforts of a poor fiddler at 
 a village practising on the sanded floor of some school-room ; 
 yet see how the poet's fancy can "take its wing," and exalt 
 the commonest object. Hazlitt says, in respect to this lyric, 
 "Of all the productions of Burns, the pathetic and serious love- 
 songs which he has left behind him, in the manner of old ballads, 
 are perhaps those which take the deepest and most lasting hold of 
 the mind. Such are the lines to 'Mary Morison,' those beginning 
 ' Here's a health to ane I loe dear ; ' and the song ' O my love is 
 like a red, red rose.' " 
 
 The tune to which the poet composed this song was "Duncan 
 Davidson " which is capable of much pathos when performed in slow 
 time. However, that air having been already well-suited with 
 "canty" words, the late John Wilson, Scottish vocalist, conferred 
 an accession of popularity to Mary Morison by wedding her to 
 "The Miller," a beautiful tune of the same character as that 
 selected by Burns.] 
 
 WINTER: A DIRGE. 
 
 (KnjMARNOCK ED., 1786.) 
 
 As I am what the men of the world, if they knew of such 
 a man, would call a whimsical mortal, I have various sources 
 of pleasure and enjoyment which are in a manner peculiar 
 to myself, or some here and there such other out-of-the-way 
 person. Such is the peculiar pleasure I take in the season of 
 Winter more than the rest of the year. This, I believe, 
 may be partly owing to my misfortunes giving my mind a 
 melancholy cast; but there is something even in the 
 
 Mighty tempest and the hoary waste 
 
 Abrupt and detp stretch'd o'er the buried earth, 
 
 which raises the mind to a serious sublimity, favorable to 
 every thing great and noble. There is scarcely any earthly
 
 *JT. 22.] POEMS AND SONGS. 27 
 
 object gives me more I don't know if I should call it plea- 
 sure, but something which exalts me, something which enrap- 
 tures me, than to walk in the sheltered side of a w T ood or 
 high plantation in a cloudy winter day, and hear a stormy 
 wind howling among the trees and raving o'er the plain. 
 It is my best season for devotion; my mind is rapt up in 
 a kind of enthusiasm to Him who, in the pompous language 
 of Scripture, "walks on the wings of the wind." In one 
 of these seasons, just after a tract of misfortunes, I com- 
 posed the following song, Tune, "M'Pherson's Farewell." 
 Common-place Book, April, 1784.. 
 
 THE wintry west extends his blast, 
 
 And hail and rain does blaw; blow 
 
 Or, the stormy north sends driving forth 
 
 The blinding sleet and snaw: snow 
 
 While, tumbling brown, the burn comes down, rivulet 
 
 And roars frae bank to brae; from height 
 
 And bird and beast in covert rest, 
 
 And pass the heartless day. 
 
 "The sweeping blast, the sky o'ercast,"* 
 
 The joyless winter day 
 Let others fear, to me more dear 
 
 Than all the pride of May: 
 The tempest's howl, it soothes my soul, 
 
 My griefs it seems to join ; 
 The leafless trees my fancy please, 
 
 Their fate resembles mine! 
 
 Thou Power Supreme whose mighty scheme 
 
 These woes of mine fulfil, 
 Here, firm I rest; they must be best, 
 
 Because they are Thy will ! 
 Then all I want O do Thou grant 
 
 This one request of mine ! 
 Since to enjoy Thou dost deny, 
 
 Assist me tO resign. to be resigned 
 
 *pr. Young. R. B.
 
 28 POEMS AND SONGS. [1781. 
 
 [We concur with Chambers in assigning the date of this piece 
 to the time of the poet's residence in Irvine, during the winter 
 of 1781-82. Writing in April, 1784, the author tells us that he com- 
 posed it at the period referred to in his head-note to the fol- 
 lowing Prayer, "just after a tract of misfortunes." This corre- 
 sponds with the tone of his melancholy letter to his father, 
 written from Irvine, and also with what he narrates in his 
 autobiography, of his partner in trade having robbed him, and 
 his flax-dressing shop, taking fire on New Year's morning, 1782, 
 by which he was left "like a true poet, not worth a sixpence."] 
 
 A PRAYER UNDER THE PRESSURE OF 
 VIOLENT ANGUISH. 
 
 (EDINBURGH ED., 1787.) 
 
 There was a certain period of my life that my spirit was 
 broke by repeated losses and disasters, which threatened and 
 indeed effected the utter ruin of my fortune. My body, too, 
 was attacked by that most dreadful distemper, a hypochondria 
 or confirmed melancholy; in this wretched state, the recollec- 
 tion of which makes me yet shudder, I hung my harp on 
 the willow trees, except in some lucid intervals, in one of 
 which I composed the following: 
 
 O THOU Great Being! what Thou art, 
 
 Surpasses me to know; 
 Yet sure I am, that known to Thee 
 
 Are all Thy works below. 
 
 Thy creature here before Thee stands, 
 
 All wretched and distrest; 
 Yet sure those ills that wring my soul 
 
 Obey Thy high behest. 
 
 Sure Thou, Almighty, canst not act 
 
 From cruelty or wrath ! 
 O, free my weary eyes from tears, 
 
 Or close them fast in death!
 
 AT. 23.] POEMS AND SONGS. 29 
 
 But, if I must afflicted be, 
 
 To suit some wise design; 
 Then man my soul with firm resolves, 
 
 To bear and not repine ! 
 
 [The composition of these verses must be assigned to the same 
 period as that of the foregoing. Writing in December, 1787, to 
 his Irvine acquaintance, Richard Brown, the poet thus remarked: 
 " Do you recollect the Sunday we spent together in Eglinton 
 woods ? You told me, on my repeating some verses to you, 
 that you wondered I could resist the temptation of sending verses 
 of such merit to a magazine. It was from this remark I de~ 
 rived that idea of my own pieces which encouraged me to en- 
 deavour at the character of a poet."] 
 
 PARAPHRASE OF THE FIRST PSALM. 
 
 (EDINBURGH ED., 1787.) 
 
 THE man in life wherever plac'd, 
 
 Hath happiness in store, 
 Who walks not in the wicked's way, 
 
 Nor learns their guilty lore ! 
 
 Nor from the seat of scornful pride 
 Casts forth his eyes abroad, 
 
 But with humility and awe 
 Still walks before his God. 
 
 That man shall flourish like the trees, 
 Which by the streamlets grow ; 
 
 The fruitful top is spread on high, 
 And firm the root below. 
 
 But he whose blossom buds in guilt 
 Shall to the ground be cast, 
 
 And, like the rootless stubble, tost 
 Before the sweeping blast
 
 30 POEMS AND SONGS. [1781. 
 
 For why ? that God the good adore, 
 Hath giv'n them peace and rest, 
 
 But hath decreed that wicked men 
 Shall ne'er be truly blest. 
 
 [This and the Psalm immediately following evidently belong to 
 the same period of the author's life as the two preceding pieces.] 
 
 THE FIRST SIX VERSES OF THE NINETIETH 
 PSALM VERSIFIED. 
 
 (EDINBURGH ED., 1787.) 
 
 O THOU, the first, the greatest friend 
 
 Of all the human race ! 
 Whose strong right hand has ever been 
 
 Their stay and dwelling-place ! 
 
 Before the mountains heav'd their heads 
 
 Beneath Thy forming hand, 
 Before this ponderous globe itself, 
 
 Arose at Thy command ; 
 
 That Pow'r which rais'd and still upholds 
 
 This universal frame, 
 From countless, unbeginning time 
 
 Was ever still the same. 
 
 Those mighty periods of years 
 
 Which seem to us so vast, 
 Appear no more before thy sight 
 
 Than yesterday that's past. 
 
 Thou giv'st the word : Thy creature, man, 
 
 Is to existence brought ; 
 Again Thou says' t, " Ye sons of men, 
 
 Return ye into nought!"
 
 23.] POEMS AND SONGS. 31 
 
 Thou layest them, with all their cares, 
 
 In everlasting sleep ; 
 As with a flood Thou tak'st them off 
 
 With overwhelming sweep. 
 
 They flourish like the morning flow'r, 
 
 In beauty's pride array 'd ; 
 But long ere night cut down, it lies 
 
 All wither'd and decayed. 
 
 A PRAYER IN THE PROSPECT OF DEATH. 
 
 (KltMARNOCK ED., 1786.) 
 
 O THOU unknown, Almighty Cause 
 
 Of all my hope and fear ! 
 In whose dread presence, ere an hour, 
 
 Perhaps I must appear! 
 
 If I have wander' d in those paths 
 
 Of life I ought to shun 
 As something loudly in my breast, 
 
 Remonstrates I have done 
 
 Thou know'st that Thou hast formed me 
 
 With passions wild and strong; 
 And list'ning to their witching voice 
 
 Has often led me wrong. 
 
 Where human weakness has come short, 
 
 Or frailty stept aside, 
 Do Thou, All-Good for such Thou art 
 
 In shades of darkness hide.
 
 82 POEMS AND SONGS. [1781. 
 
 Where with intention I have err'd, 
 
 No other plea I have, 
 But, Thou art good; and Goodness still 
 
 Delighteth to forgive. 
 
 [This composition appears, under the date of August, 1784, in 
 the Common-place Book, as "A Prayer when fainting fits and 
 other alarming symptoms of a pleurisy, or some other dangerous 
 disorder, which indeed still threaten me, first put nature on the 
 alarm." These words distinctly point back to a date more or 
 less remote ; consequently those editors who have assumed this 
 Prayer and its relative prose passage to apply to the Mossgiel 
 period of the author's life are at fault in their chronology. The 
 verses are marked by extraordinary vigour, and have been much 
 criticised by those who will be content with no religious poetry, 
 except such as deals in substitutional salvation.] 
 
 (Chambers gives the date as 1784. The style of composition 
 is very far superior to and more finished than anything in his 
 Mount Oliphant period. It seems to me to be quite in keeping 
 with his twenty-fifth year. The second and third stanzas es- 
 pecially are not the expressions of a mere youth. It was at 
 Lochlea, says Gilbert Burns, that "the foundation was laid of 
 certain habits in my brother's character, which afterwards became 
 but too prominent." This poem was written, then, at least a 
 considerable time after he went to lyochlea, and quite probably 
 when he was at Mossgiel. J. H.) 
 
 STANZAS, ON THE SAME OCCASION. 
 (EDINBURGH ED., 1787.) 
 
 WHY am I loth to leave this earthly scene? 
 
 Have I so found it full of pleasing charms 
 Some drops of joy with draughts of ill between 
 
 Some gleams of sunshine 'mid renewing storms? 
 Is it departing pangs my soul alarms? 
 
 Or death's unlovely, dreary, dark abode ? 
 For guilt, for guilt, my terrors are in arms: 
 
 I tremble to approach an angry God, 
 And justly smart beneath His sin-avenging rod.
 
 4ST. 23.] POEMS AND SONGS. 33 
 
 Fain would I say, "Forgive my foul offence !" 
 
 Fain promise never more to disobey; 
 But, should my Author health again dispense, 
 
 Again I might desert fair virtue's way; 
 Again in folly's path might go astray; 
 
 Again exalt the brute and sink the man ; 
 Then how should I for heavenly mercy pray, 
 
 Who act so counter heavenly mercy's plan? 
 Who sin so oft have mourn' d, yet to temptation ran? 
 
 O Thou great Governor of all below! 
 
 If I may dare a lifted eye to Thee, 
 Thy nod can make the tempest cease to blow, 
 
 Or still the tumult of the raging sea : 
 With that controlling pow'r assist ev'n me, 
 
 Those headlong furious passions to confine, 
 For all unfit I feel my pow'rs to be, 
 
 To rule their torrent in th' allowed line ; 
 O, aid me with Thy help, Omnipotence Divine! 
 
 [This composition is set down in the poet's Common-place Book 
 immediately following the preceding, and entitled " Misgivings in 
 the Hour of Despondency and Prospect of Death." He copied it 
 from thence into the Stair manuscript of early pieces (now dis- 
 membered and scattered abroad). It is there headed " Misgivings 
 of Despondency on the Approach of the Gloomy Monarch of the 
 Grave." It was also inserted in the manuscript book of like 
 pieces presented to Mrs. Dunlop, under the heading " Stanzas on 
 the same occasion (as the preceding) in the manner of Seattle's 
 Minstrel." That collection is also cut up and scattered; and these 
 verses, apparently once forming part of it are exhibited within the 
 Burns monument at Edinburgh. On comparing the copy in the 
 text with the earlier ones, we find that the versification underwent 
 some polishing in 1787, to fit it for appearance in the author's 
 Edinburgh edition. 
 
 This piece acquires a certain interest from the manner in which 
 Dr. John Brown (author of "Rab and his Friends") has introduced 
 an anecdote concerning it in his little book "Pet Marjorie : a 
 Story of Child Life Fifty Years Ago" (1863).] 
 L C
 
 34 POEMS AND SONGS. 
 
 FICKLE FORTUNE: "A FRAGMENT." 
 (CROMEK, 1808.) 
 
 THOUGH fickle Fortune has deceived me, 
 She promis'd fair and perform' d but ill; 
 
 Of mistress, friends, and wealth bereav'd me, 
 Yet I bear a heart shall support me still. 
 
 I'll act with prudence as far as I'm able, 
 
 But if success I must never find, 
 Then come misfortune, I bid thee welcome, 
 
 I'll meet thee with an undaunted mind. 
 
 [The poet has set this down in his Common-place Book, under 
 date, September, 1785, and thus remarks: "The above was an 
 extempore, under the pressure of a heavy train of misfortunes, 
 which indeed threatened to undo me altogether. It was just at 
 the close of that dreadful period mentioned (when the prayer 
 ' O Thou great Being ' was composed see p. 28), and though the 
 weather has brightened up a little with me, yet there has always 
 been since, a ' tempest brewing round me in the grim sky ' of 
 futurity, which I pretty plainly see will some time or other 
 perhaps ere long overwhelm me, and drive me into some doleful 
 dell to pine in solitary, squalid wretchedness." 
 
 The reader has already seen, at page 7, the four lines which 
 form the first half of the above fragment. The poet here repro- 
 duces them with an important variation in line third, which he 
 appropriately alters from 
 
 " Of many a joy and hope bereav'd me." 
 
 These eight lines altogether read more like rough prose than 
 measured verse ; they have at the same time a certain earnest 
 vigour, and in sentiment are in unison with all he wrote at that 
 period. He says the fragment was constructed " in imitation of 
 an old Scotch song well known among the country ingle-sides," 
 and of that he quotes one verse thus : 
 
 When clouds in skies do come together, 
 
 To hide the brightness of the sun, 
 There will surely be some pleasant weather 
 
 When a' thir storms are spent and gone. these
 
 JGV. 24.] POEMS AND SONGS. 35 
 
 He tells us that he has noted that verse " both to mark the song 
 and tune I mean, and likewise as a debt I owe to the author, 
 as the repeating of that verse has lighted up my flame a thousand 
 times."] 
 
 RAGING FORTUNE: FRAGMENT OF SONG. 
 
 (CROMEK, 1808.) 
 
 O RAGING Fortune's withering blast 
 
 Has laid my leaf full low ! 
 O raging Fortune's withering blast 
 
 Has laid my leaf full low ! 
 
 My stem was fair, my bud was green, 
 
 My blossom sweet did blow ; 
 The dew fell fresh, the sun rose mild, 
 
 And made my branches grow ; 
 
 But luckless Fortune's northern storms 
 I/aid a 1 my blossoms low, *a 
 
 But luckless Fortune's northern storms 
 Laid a' my blossoms .low! 
 
 [This sketch was produced at the same time with the pre- 
 ceding. Our poet records in his Common-place Book that he 
 then " set about composing an air in the old Scotch style. I 
 am (he adds) not musical scholar enough to prick down my 
 tune properly, so it can never see the light, . . . but these 
 were the verses I composed to suit it." As we do with the 
 verses at page 38, we omit the capital letter "O" at the end of 
 every second line, to avoid the unpleasant effect in reading.] 
 
 IMPROMPTU " I'LL GO AND BE A SODGER." 
 
 (CURRIE, 1800.) 
 
 O WHY the deuce should I repine, 
 
 And be an ill foreboder? 
 I'm twenty-three, and five feet nine, 
 
 I'll go and be a sodger!
 
 86 POEMS AND SONGS. [1782. 
 
 I gat some gear wi' mickle care, cash much 
 
 I held it weel thegither; 
 But now iVsgane, and something mair gone more 
 
 I'll go and be a sodger ! 
 
 [This is the sequel to the poet's previous penitential bemoan- 
 ings, and apostrophes to "Fickle Fortune." "Come, stubborn 
 pride and unshrinking resolution ! " he wrote to a lady friend, 
 on receipt of what he deemed ruinous intelligence "accompany 
 me through this, to me, miserable world ! Your friendship I 
 think I can count on though I should date my letters from a 
 marching regiment. Early in life, and all my life, I reckoned 
 on a recruiting drum as my forlorn hope." 
 
 The poet was now at home from Irvine. He reached Lochlea 
 about the end of March ; and Chambers mentions, in 1856, that 
 the stone chimney-piece of the little garret room where Burns 
 slept in his father's house still bore the initials " R. B.," with 
 the date 1782, supposed to have been cut by the poet's own 
 hand. That relic no longer exists.] 
 
 (In Burns' day, and long after, seven years was the time required 
 to serve as an apprentice to any trade. Burns, being now twenty- 
 four years of age, was too old to learn a trade ; therefore he, like 
 many young men in a similar position, looked to enlisting in the 
 army as a last resource. The Scotch have always been a warlike peo- 
 tile. The natural resource of every young Scotchman in difficulty was 
 to enlist. G. G. 
 
 SONG "NO CHURCHMAN AM I." 
 
 Tune " Prepare, my dear Brethren." 
 (EDINBURGH ED., 1787.) 
 
 No churchman am I for to rail and to write, 
 No statesman nor soldier to plot or to fight, 
 No sly man of business contriving a snare, 
 For a big-belly 'd bottle's the whole of my care. 
 
 The peer I don't envy, I give him his bow; 
 
 I scorn not the peasant, tho' ever so low ; 
 
 But a club of good fellows, like those that are here, 
 
 And a bottle like this, are my glory and care.
 
 T. 24.] POEMS AND SONGS. 37 
 
 Here passes the squire on his brother his horse; 
 There centum per centum, the cit with his purse; 
 But see you the Crown * how it waves in the air ? 
 There a big-belly'd bottle still eases my care. 
 
 The wife of my bosom, alas ! she did die ; 
 For sweet consolation to church I did fly; 
 I found that old Solomon proved it fair, 
 That a big-belly'd bottle's a cure for all care. 
 
 I once was persuaded a venture to make ; 
 A letter inform' d me that all was to wreck]; 
 But the pursy old landlord just waddl'd up stairs, 
 With a glorious bottle that ended my cares. 
 
 "Life's cares they are comforts "f a maxim laid 
 
 down 
 By the Bard, what d'ye call him? that wore the black 
 
 gown ; 
 
 And faith I agree with th' old prig to a hair ; 
 For a big-belly'd bottle's a heav'n of a care. 
 
 A STANZA ADDED IN A MASON LODGE. 
 
 Then fill up a bumper and make it o'erflow, 
 And honors Masonic prepare for to throw; 
 May ev'ry true Brother of the Compass and Square 
 Have a big-belly'd bottle when harass' d with care. 
 
 [We are inclined to set this down as a production of 1782. 
 The Bachelors' Club was instituted at the close of 1780, and the 
 poet was admitted an apprentice Free Mason in July, 1781, just 
 before he proceeded to Irvine. He was passed and raised on 
 ist October following, on which occasion, if he was present at 
 Tarbolton, he must have travelled from Irvine for the purpose. 
 
 The song in the text has none of the elements of popularity 
 
 * Burns here refers to the sign of " The Crown Tavern." f . H. 
 t Young's " Night Thoughts." R. B.
 
 38 POEMS AND SONGS. [1782. 
 
 in it, and seems more like an imitation of an English song than 
 a spontaneous outburst of his own genius. Indeed, in the collec- 
 tion of songs which he studied so much during his boyhood, 
 there is one that appears to have been his model: the closing 
 line of one of its stanzas being 
 
 "And a big-belly'd bottle's a mighty good thing."] 
 
 BALLAD MY FATHER WAS A FARMER. 
 
 Tune "The weaver and his shuttle, O." 
 i 
 
 (CROMEK, 1808.) 
 
 MY father was a farmer upon the Carrick* border, 
 
 And carefully he bred me in decency and order; 
 
 He bade me act a manly part, though I had ne'er a 
 
 farthing'; 
 For without an honest manly heart, no man was worth 
 
 regarding. 
 
 Then out into the world my course I did determine; 
 
 Tho' to be rich was not my wish, yet to be great was 
 charming: 
 
 My talents they were not the worst, nor yet my edu- 
 cation: 
 
 Resolv'd was I, at least to try, to mend my situation. 
 
 In many a way, and vain essay, I courted Fortune's 
 
 favor ; 
 Some cause unseen still stept between, to frustrate each 
 
 endeavor ; 
 Sometimes by foes I was o'erpower'd, sometimes by 
 
 friends forsaken; 
 And when my hope was at the top, I still was worst 
 
 mistaken. 
 
 * Carrick is the southernmost of the three districts into which Ayrshire is di- 
 vided, and lies between the Boon and the borders of Galloway. Burns' father did 
 not live in Carrick, but in Kyle, close on the Carrick border. J. H.
 
 jeff. 24.] POEMS AND SONGS. 39 
 
 Then sore harass' d, and tir'd at last, with Fortune's 
 
 vain delusion, 
 I dropt my schemes, like idle dreams, and came to 
 
 this conclusion : 
 The past was bad, and the future hid, its good or ill 
 
 untried ; 
 But the present hour was in my pow'r, and so I would 
 
 enjoy it. 
 
 No help, nor hope, nor view had I, nor person to 
 
 befriend me ; 
 So I must toil, and sweat, and moil, and labour to 
 
 sustain me ; 
 To plough and sow, to reap and mow, my father bred 
 
 me early; 
 For one, he said, to labour bred, was a match for 
 
 Fortune fairly. 
 
 Thus all obscure, unknown, and poor, thro' life I'm 
 
 doom'd to wander, 
 
 Till down my weary bones I lay in everlasting slum- 
 ber ; 
 No view nor care, but shun whate'er might breed me 
 
 pain or sorrow ; 
 I live to-day as well's I may, regardless of to-morrow. 
 
 But cheerful still, I am as well as a monarch in his 
 
 palace, 
 Tho' Fortune's frown still hunts me down, with all 
 
 her wonted malice : 
 I make indeed my daily bread, but ne'er can make it 
 
 farther : 
 But as daily bread is all I need, I do not much regard 
 
 her. 
 
 When sometimes by my labour, I earn a little money, 
 Some unforeseen misfortune comes gen' rally upon me ;
 
 40 POEMS AND SONGS. [1782. 
 
 Mischance, mistake, or by neglect, or my goodnatur'd 
 
 folly: 
 But come what will, I've sworn it still, I'll ne'er be 
 
 melancholy. 
 
 All you who follow wealth and power with unremitting 
 
 ardour, 
 The more in this you look for bliss, you leave your 
 
 view the farther : 
 Had you the wealth Potosi boasts, or nations to adore 
 
 you, 
 A cheerful, honest-hearted clown I will prefer before 
 
 you. 
 
 [The poet describes the above as "a wild rhapsody, miserably 
 deficient in versification, but as the sentiments are the genuine 
 feelings of my heart, for that reason I have a particular pleasure 
 in conning it over." 
 
 At the close of each line of the ballad, the letter " O " is 
 introduced in the Author's MS. to make it fit the tune to which 
 he composed it. It has a disturbing effect in reading, and there- 
 fore we withdraw it from our text for the present. In an after- 
 part of the work the verses will be given verbatim, as part of 
 the Common-place Book.] 
 
 JOHN BARLEYCORN: A BALLAD.* 
 
 (EDINBURGH ED., 1787.) 
 
 THERE went three kings into the east, 
 
 Three kings both great and high, 
 And they hae sworn a solemn oath have 
 
 John Barleycorn should die. 
 
 This is partly composed on the plan of an old song known by the same 
 *me. R. B.
 
 24.] POEMS AND SONGS. 4i 
 
 They took a plough and plough' d him down, 
 
 Put clods upon his head, 
 And they have sworn a solemn oath 
 
 John Barleycorn was dead. 
 
 But the cheerful Spring came kindly on, 
 
 And show'rs began to fall ; 
 John Barleycorn got up again, 
 
 And sore surprised them all. 
 
 The sultry suns of Summer came, 
 
 And he grew thick and strong; 
 His head weel arm'd wi' pointed spears, 
 
 That no one should him wrong. 
 
 The sober Autumn enter' d mild, 
 
 When he grew wan and pale ; 
 His bending joints and drooping head 
 
 Show'd he began to fail. 
 
 His colour sicken' d more and more, 
 
 He faded into age ; 
 And then his enemies began 
 
 To show their deadly rage. 
 
 They've taen a weapon, long and sharp, tken 
 
 And cut him by the knee ; 
 Then ty'd him fast upon a cart, 
 
 Like a rogue for forgerie. 
 
 They laid him down upon his back, 
 
 And cudgel!' d him full sore; 
 They hung him up before the storm, 
 
 And turn'd him o'er and o'er. 
 
 They filled up a darksome pit 
 
 With water to the brim, 
 They heaved in John Barleycorn 
 
 There, let him sink or swim.
 
 42 POEMS AND SONGS. [1784 
 
 They laid him out upon the floor, 
 
 To work him farther woe ; 
 And still, as signs of life appear' d, 
 
 They toss'd him to and fro. 
 
 They wasted, o'er a scorching flame, 
 
 The marrow of his bones ; 
 But a miller us'd him worst of all, 
 
 For he crush' d him 'tween two stones. 
 
 And they hae taen his very heart's blood, take* 
 
 And drank it round and round; 
 And still the more and more they drank, 
 
 Their joy did more abound. 
 
 John Barleycorn was a hero bold, 
 
 Of noble enterprise ; 
 For if you do but taste his blood, 
 
 'Twill make your courage rise. 
 
 'Twill make a man forget his woe ; 
 
 'Twill heighten all his joy : 
 'Twill make the widoVs heart to sing, 
 
 'Tho' the tear were in her eye. 
 
 Then let us toast John Barleycorn, 
 
 Each man a glass in hand; 
 And may his great posterity 
 
 Ne'er fail in old Scotland ! 
 
 [In the Common-place Book this is set down immediately be- 
 fore Poor Mailie, and all that we know concerning the date of 
 the two poems is that they were written at Lochlea, prior to 
 the year 1784. Gilbert has said, regarding the date of the latter, 
 that his two younger brothers, William and John, then acted as 
 drivers in the ploughing operations of the poet and himself.
 
 ajT. 24.] POEMS AND SONGS. 43 
 
 John, in 1782, would be thirteen years old a very likely age for 
 him to commence duties of that kind ; so by this mode of calcula- 
 tion we would arrive at a fair conclusion, were we to hold that John 
 Barleycorn and Poor Mailie were composed shortly after Burns' 
 return from Irvine in the early spring of 1782. It is not likely 
 that the poet ever saw the ancient ballad of "John Barleycorn" 
 in any collection. A copy in the Pepys' library, at Cambridge, 
 furnished the old version included by Robert Jamieson in his col- 
 lection of Ballads, 2 vols., 1808. In the poet's note to the Ballad 
 he says: "I once heard the old song that goes by this name 
 sung, and being very fond of it, and remembering only two or 
 three verses of it, viz., the ist, 2d and 3d, with some scraps, I 
 have interwoven them here and there in the following piece." 
 The poet could never be induced to correct the defective gram- 
 mar in the opening line, deeming, we suppose, with Shakespeare, 
 that bad grammar is sometimes a positive beauty. James Hogg 
 had the same feeling in regard to his favourite song " When the 
 kye comes hame." In another of Burns' most admired Ballads, 
 " There was five Carlines in the south "-evidently composed on 
 the model of John Barleycorn he retains the "bad grammar," 
 and directs the song to be sung to the tune of Chevy Chase. We 
 cannot tell whether that air was the same above referred to, which 
 he " once heard sung."] 
 
 THE DEATH AND DYING WORDS OF POOR 
 MAIUE. 
 
 THE AUTHOR'S ONLY PET YOWE, AN UNCO MOURNFU' TALE. ewe 
 
 extremely 
 (KlLMARNOCK ED., 1786.) 
 
 As Mailie, an' her lambs thegither, 
 
 Was ae day nibblin on the tether, halter 
 
 Upon her cloot she coost a hitch, hoof cast 
 
 An' owre she warsld in the ditch: tumbled struggling 
 
 There, groanin, dying, she did lie, 
 
 When Hughoc* he cam doytin by. walking stupidly 
 
 Wi' glowrin een, and lifted han's staring eye 
 
 Poor Hughoc like a statue stan's; 
 
 * A neibour herd-callant, about three-fourths as wise as other folk. R. B.
 
 44 POEMS AND SONGS. [1782. 
 
 He saw her days were near-hand ended, 
 
 But, wae's my heart! he could na mend it ! woe is me 
 
 He gaped wide, but naething spak, spoke 
 
 At length poor Mailie silence brak. broke 
 
 U O thou, whase lamentable face whose 
 
 Appears to mourn my wofu' case ! 
 My dying words attentive hear, 
 An' bear them to my Master dear. 
 
 "Tell him, if e'er again he keep 
 As muckle gear as buy a sheep much cash 
 
 O, bid him never tie them mair, more 
 
 Wi' wicked strings o' hemp or hair ! 
 But cd 1 them out to park or hill, drive 
 
 An' let them wander at their will : 
 So may his flock increase, an' grow 
 To scores o' lambs, and packs o' woo 1 ! wool 
 
 "Tell him, he was a Master kin 1 kind 
 
 An' ay was guid to me an' mine; 
 An' now my dying charge I gie him, give 
 
 My helpless lambs, I trust them wi' him. 
 
 "O, bid him save their harmless lives, 
 
 Frae dogs, an' tods, an' butcher's knives! foxes 
 
 But gie them guid cow-milk their fill, good 
 
 Till they be fit to fend themsel ; provide for 
 
 An' tent them duly, e'en an' morn, attend to 
 
 Wl' taetS O' hay an' ripps O' COrn. small quantities handfuls 
 
 u An' may they never learn the gaets, w ays 
 
 Of ither vile, wanrestfu? pets unrestfui 
 
 To slink thro' slaps, an' reave an' steal, gaps rob 
 
 At stacks o' pease, or stocks o' kail! coiewort 
 
 So may they, like their great forbears, ancestors 
 
 For monie a year come thro' the sheers : many 
 So wives will gie them bits o' bread, 
 An' bairns greet for them when they're dead, weep
 
 T. 25.] POEMS AND SONGS. 45 
 
 ' ' My poor toop-lamb, my son an' heir, tup-iamb 
 O, bid him breed him up wi' care! 
 An' if he live to be a beast, 
 To put some havins in his breast ! manner* 
 
 ' ' An' warn him what I winna name win not 
 
 To stay content wi' yowes at hame ; ewes 
 
 An' no to rin an' wear his cloots, nn hoofs 
 
 L,ike ither menseless, graceless brutes, other unmannerly 
 
 4 ' An' niest, my yowie, silly thing, next little ewe 
 
 Gude keep thee frae a tether string ! from 
 
 O, may thou no? ex forgather zip, hold intercourse 
 
 Wi' ony blastit, moorland toop ; worthless 
 
 But ay keep mind to moop ari 1 mell, associate 
 Wi' sheep o' credit like thysel ! 
 
 "And now, my bairns, wi' my last breath, children 
 I lea>e my blessin wi' you baith: leave both 
 
 An' when you think upo' your mither, 
 Mind to be kind to ane anither. one another 
 
 " Now, honest Hughoc, dinna fail, do not 
 
 To tell my master a' my tale ; 
 An' bid him burn this cursed tether, 
 An' for thy pains thou'se get my blather" bladder 
 
 This said, poor Mailie turn'd her head, 
 An' clos'd her een amang the dead! 
 
 [Carlyle considers this the poet's happiest effort of its peculiar 
 kind : he classes it with the Address to a Mouse, and the Auld 
 Farmer's Mare, but holds that "this has even more of sportive 
 tenderness in it." It was composed just as we now see it one 
 afternoon while engaged with his plough on the slopes of Lochlea, 
 his brother Gilbert being at work with his team on another part 
 of the field. The poet's youngest brother, John of whose early
 
 46 POEMS AND SONGS. 
 
 death, by the way, not a syllable has been ever heard drove the 
 horses, while the musing bard guided his plough in the even rig. 
 Gilbert narrates the incident to this effect : As they were setting 
 out about noon, with their teams, a curious-looking, awkward boy, 
 named Hugh Wilson, ran up to them in a very excited manner, 
 and with a rueful countenance, announced that poor Mailie had 
 got entangled in her tether and was lying in the ditch. It had 
 never occurred to the terror-stricken " Hughoc " that he might have 
 lent a hand in lifting her up : Mailie, however, was soon rescued 
 from her peril and lived it is hoped to see her bairns' bairns. 
 This timely intervention of the half-witted callant was the means 
 of sending down the name of poor Mailie along with his own 
 to distant posterity, for his comical consternation and pathetic 
 interest in her fate suggested the poem to Burns.] 
 
 POOR MAIUE'S ELEGY. 
 
 (KlLMARNOCK ED., 1786.) 
 
 LAMENT in rhyme, lament in prose, 
 
 Wi' saut tears tricklin down your nose ; salt 
 
 Our bardie's fate is at a close, 
 
 Past a' remead 7 remedy 
 
 The last, sad cape-stane o' his woes cope-stone 
 
 Poor Mailie' s dead! 
 
 It's no the loss o' warVs gear, worldly wealth 
 That could sae bitter draw the tear, 
 Or mak our bardie, dowie, wear melancholy 
 
 The mournin' weed: 
 He's lost a friend an' neebor dear, 
 
 In Mailie dead. 
 
 Thro' a' the town she trotted by him ; 
 A lang half-mile she could descry him ; 
 Wi' kindly bleat, when she did spy him, 
 
 She ran wi' speed : 
 A friend mair faithfu' ne'er cam nigh him, 
 
 Than Mailie dead.
 
 25.] POEMS AND SONGS. 47 
 
 I wat she was a sheep o' sense, wot 
 
 An' could behave hersel wi' mense: good manners 
 I'll say't, she never brak a fence, 
 
 Thro' thievish greed. 
 Our bardie, lanely, keeps the spence* inner room 
 
 Sin' Mailie's dead. 
 
 Or, if he wanders up the howe t 
 Her livin image in her yowe 
 Comes bleatin till him, owre the knowe^ 
 
 For bits o' bread ; 
 An' down the briny pearls rowe n>ii 
 
 For Mailie dead. 
 
 She was nae get o' moorlan tips, offspring 
 
 Wi' tauted ket, an' hairy hips ; matted fleece 
 
 For her forbears were brought in ships, ancestors 
 
 Frae 'yont the Tweed : 
 A bonier fleesh ne'er cross' d the clips fleece shears 
 
 Than Mailie's dead. 
 
 Woe) 
 
 Wae worth that man wha first did shape be to/ 
 That vile, wanchancie thing a raep ! unlucky rope 
 It maks guid fellows girn an' gape, grin 
 
 Wi' chokin dread ; 
 An' Robin's bonnet wave wi' crape 
 
 For Mailie dead. 
 
 O, a* ye bards on bonie Doon! 
 An' wha on Ayr your chanters tune! bagpipes 
 Come, join the melancholious croon chant 
 
 O' Robin's reed! 
 His heart will never get aboon 
 
 His Mailie's dead! 
 
 *The " spence " (retiring-room or parlor) of a farm house, from being originally 
 generally behind the kitchen or "but," was known also as the "ben." Hence, 
 even when not behind the kitchen, but in the other end of the house, it re- 
 tained its name of "ben." J. H.
 
 48 POEMS AND SONGS. [1783. 
 
 [That this poem was composed at a period somewhat later than 
 the "Dying Words," is probable from the fact that the "Elegy" 
 is not inscribed in the poet's Common-place Book, while the 
 main poem is recorded there, almost verbatim as afterwards pub- 
 lished. Dr. Currie informs us (Vol. III., p. 395, Ed. 1801) that 
 in preparing the " Elegy " for the press, the poet substituted the 
 present sixth verse for the following : 
 
 "She was nae get o' coarse, gaunt rams, 
 
 Wi' woo like goats, and legs like trams; wool shafts 
 She was the flower o' Fairlie lambs 
 A famous breed; 
 
 Now Robin, greetin, chews the hams, weeping 
 
 O' Mailie dead." 
 
 The substituted stanza is doubtless a great improvement ; yet 
 we cannot but regret with Currie that "Fairlie lambs" should lose 
 the honor once intended for them. Fairlie was the first place 
 in Ayrshire where the poet's father, in early manhood, obtained 
 employment.] 
 
 SONG THE RIGS O' BARLEY. 
 
 (KlI,MARNOCK ED., 1786.) 
 
 IT was upon a Lammas night, 
 
 When corn rigs are bonie, ridges 
 
 Beneath the moon's unclouded light, 
 
 I held awa to Annie ; 
 The time flew by, w? tentless heed ; with 
 
 Till, 'tween the late and early, 
 Wi' sma' persuasion she agreed 
 To see me thro' the barley. 
 Corn rigs an' barley rigs, 
 
 An' corn rigs are bonie: 
 I'll ne'er forget that happy night, 
 Amang the rigs wi' Annie. 
 
 The sky was blue, the wind was still. 
 
 The moon was shining clearly ; 
 I set her down, wi' right good will, 
 
 Amang the rigs o' barley :
 
 1 
 
 9. ~ 
 
 w 
 
 bo 
 
 c 
 
 rt 
 
 o 
 
 w 
 
 ffi 
 
 H
 
 *ST. 25.] POEMS AND SONGS. 49 
 
 I ken't her heart was a' my ain ; knew 
 
 I lov'd her most sincerely ; 
 I kiss'd her owre and owre again, over 
 
 Amang the rigs o' barley. 
 
 Corn rigs, an' barley rigs, &.C. 
 
 I lock'd her in my fond embrace ; 
 
 Her heart was beating rarely : 
 My blessings on that happy place, 
 
 Amang the rigs o' barley ! 
 But by the moon and stars so bright, 
 
 That shone that hour so clearly! 
 She ay shall bless that happy night 
 
 Amang the rigs o' barley. 
 
 Corn rigs, an' barley rigs, &c. 
 
 I hae been blythe wi' comrades dear ; giad 
 
 I hae been merry drinking ; 
 I hae been joyfu' gath'rin gear ; money 
 
 I hae been happy thinking : 
 But a' the pleasures e'er I saw, 
 
 Tho' three times doubl'd fairly 
 That happy night was worth them a*, 
 
 Amang the rigs o' barley. 
 
 Corn rigs, an' barley rigs, &c, 
 
 [We conceive that we cannot be far wrong in setting down 
 this and the four songs which immediately follow as compositions 
 of the period from the summer of 1782 to the close of 1783, when 
 the Burness family was preparing to remove to Mossgiel, and old 
 William Burness, was about to bid them all farewell for ever. 
 Many of the " Annies " of the district have contended for the 
 dubious honor of being the heroine of this warmly-colored, yet 
 highly popular, lyric. The name of Anne Ronald has been men- 
 tioned ; but, as we have already seen, the poet was content to ad- 
 mire her at a respectful distance. Anne Rankine, daughter of a 
 farmer at Adamhill, within two miles west of Lochlea, and who 
 afterwards became Mrs. Merry, not only " owned the soft im- 
 peachment," but to her dying day boasted that she was the Annie 
 of the " Rigs o' Barley." If so, then Gilbert was right when he 
 I. D
 
 50 POEMS AND SONGS. [1783. 
 
 told Dr. Currie that "there was often a great disparity between 
 the fair captivator and her attributes " as depicted in song by her 
 lover. 
 
 Our poet is said to have, on more than one occasion in after- 
 life, referred to the closing verse of this song as one of his 
 happiest strokes of workmanship.] 
 
 SONG " COMPOSED IN AUGUST." 
 
 (KII.MARNOCK ED., 1786.) 
 
 Now westlin winds and slaughtering guns 
 
 Bring Autumn's pleasant weather ; 
 The moorcock springs on whirring wings, 
 
 Amang the blooming heather: 
 Now waving grain, wide o'er the plain, 
 
 Delights the weary farmer ; 
 And the moon shines bright, when I rove at night, 
 
 To muse upon my charmer. 
 
 The partridge loves the fruitful fells^ uplands 
 
 The plover loves the mountains ; 
 The woodcock haunts the lonely dells, 
 
 The soaring hern the fountains : heron 
 
 Thro' lofty groves the cushat roves, wood-pig eo 
 
 The path of man to shun it ; 
 The hazel bush o'erhangs the thrush, 
 
 The spreading thorn the linnet. 
 
 Thus ev'ry kind their pleasure find, 
 
 The savage and the tender ; 
 Some social join, and leagues combine, 
 
 Some solitary wander : 
 Avaunt, away, the cruel sway ! 
 
 Tyrannic man's dominion ; 
 The sportsman's joy, the murd'ring cry, 
 
 The flutt'ring, gory pinion !
 
 25.3 POEMS AND SONGS. 51 
 
 But, Peggy dear, the ev'ning's clear, 
 
 Thick flies the skimming swallow; 
 The sky is blue, the fields in view, 
 
 All fading-green and yellow: 
 Come let us stray our gladsome way, 
 
 And view the charms of Nature; 
 The rustling corn, the fruited thorn, 
 
 And ev'ry happy creature. 
 
 We'll gently walk, and sweetly talk, 
 
 Till the silent moon shine clearly; 
 I'll grasp thy waist, and, fondly press' t, 
 
 Swear how I love thee dearly: 
 Not vernal show'rs to budding flow'rs, 
 
 Not Autumn to the farmer, 
 So dear can be as thou to me, 
 
 My fair, my lovely charmer! 
 
 [This is "Song Second" (of the author's Edinburgh edition), 
 referred to in his autobiography as "the ebullition of that passion 
 which ended that school business" at Kirkoswald. If the lyric 
 was suggested and partly sketched out when the poet was but 
 in his seventeenth year, we are assured, on the testimony of Mrs. 
 Begg, that at a considerably later period he experienced another 
 love-fit for Kirkoswald Peggy, and corresponded with her, with a 
 view to matrimony. It would be then that he dressed up this 
 finely descriptive composition into its existing form ; but as he 
 soon thereafter fell into grief about the subject of his epistle to 
 Rankine, he was forced to abandon the idea of matrimony with 
 Peggy. 
 
 We shall again have occasion to advert to this very early in- 
 Bpirer of the poet's passion, when, under date 1786, we give the 
 verses he inscribed on a presentation copy to her of his first 
 edition. Among the bard's letters also will be given one ad- 
 dressed by him to an early Carrick friend, Mr. Thomas Orr, 
 Park, dated nth Nov., 1784, which throws some light on the pres- 
 ent subject.}
 
 52 POEMS AND SONGS. [1783. 
 
 SONG "MY NANNIE, O." 
 (EDINBURGH ED., 1787.) 
 
 BEHIND yon hills where Lugar * flows, 
 
 'Mang moors an' mosses many, O, 
 The wintry sun the day has clos'd, 
 
 And I'll awa to Nannie, O. 
 
 The westlin wind blaws loud an' skill; 
 
 The night's baith mirk and rainy, O ; dark 
 
 But I'll get my plaid an' out I'll steal, 
 
 An' owre the hill to Nannie, O. over 
 
 My Nanie's charming, sweet, an' young; 
 
 Nae artfu' wiles to win ye, O : 
 May ill befa' the flattering tongue 
 
 That wad beguile my Nannie, O. 
 
 Her face is fair, her heart is true ; 
 
 As spotless as she's bonie, O ; 
 The op'ning gowan, wat wi' dew, daisy wet 
 
 Nae purer is than Nannie, O. 
 
 A country lad is my degree, 
 An' few there be that ken me, O; 
 
 But what care I how few they be, 
 I'm welcome ay to Nannie, O. 
 
 * " Stinchar," in all the author's editions, including that of 1794 ; but George 
 Thomson says the poet sanctioned the change in 1792. (Stinchar has local verity 
 in its favor, but, as Burns says to Thomson, " Lugar is the more agreeable mod- 
 ulation of syllables." Lugar is a stream in Kyle, which, rising in Cumnock and 
 flowing northwest by Ochiltree, falls into the Ayr at Barskimming, about a mile 
 south of Mauchline. The Stinchar is a mere streamlet rising in Kirkoswald 
 parish and flowing into the Firth of Clyde, nearly opposite Ailsa Craig.) J.H.
 
 MY NANNIE, O " I'm welcome ay to Nannie, O."
 
 J&. 25.] POEMS AND SONGS. 53 
 
 My riches a's my penny-fee,* 
 
 An' I maun guide it cannie, O ; must carefully 
 But warf s gear ne'er troubles me, world's wealth 
 
 My thoughts are a' my Nannie, O. 
 
 Our auld guidman delights to view old 
 
 His sheep an' kye thrive bonie O ; cow* 
 
 But I'm as blythe that hands \\i$, plengh, holds plough 
 An' has nae care but Nannie, O. 
 
 Come weel, come woe, I care na by ; care not 
 
 I'll tak what Heav'n will sen' me, O : 
 
 No other care in life have I, 
 
 But live, an' love my Nannie, O. 
 
 [The author, in his Common-place Book, directs this song to 
 be sung to the tune of "As I came in by Ixmdon, O," which 
 no doubt would be the opening line of some then popular, but 
 now unknown English song, set to the old Scotch air, "My 
 Nanie, O." 
 
 A vast deal has been written and said concerning the heroine- 
 ship of this song. The Rev. Hamilton Paul, who belonged to 
 Ayrshire, and was almost a contemporary of Burns, thus wrote in 
 1819: "In Kilmarnock, Burns first saw 'Nanie,' the subject of 
 one of his most popular ballads. She captivated him as well by 
 the charm of her person as by the melody of her voice. As he 
 devoted much of his spare time to her society, and listened to 
 her singing with the most religious attention, her sister observed 
 to him, that he paid more attention to Nanie's singing than he 
 would do to a preaching ; he retorted with an oath ' Madam, 
 there's no comparison.'" On the other hand, Gilbert Burns, who 
 was aware that the song was composed before his brother ever 
 spent an hour in Kilmarnock, informed George Thomson, that 
 "Nanie was a farmer's daughter in Tarbolton parish, named Flem- 
 ing, to whom the poet paid some of that roving attention which 
 he was continually devoting to some one. Her charms were 
 indeed mediocre, and what she had were sexual, which indeed 
 was the characteristic of the greater part of his mistresses. He 
 was no Platonic lover, whatever he might pretend or suppose of 
 himself." 
 
 * My small wages are all my wealth. J. K
 
 54 POEMS AND SONGS. [1783. 
 
 Allan Cunningham and other annotators have, through a mis- 
 conception of the opening lines of the song, run away with the 
 notion that Nanie belonged to Carrick, like the subject of the 
 preceding lyric. But when we have the poet himself confess- 
 ing that Vive P amour t et vive la bagatelle were his "sole 
 principles of action," and that when the labors of each day 
 were over, he "spent the evening in the way after his own 
 heart," we must conclude that his rural divinities were not 
 far to seek. It is by no means requisite that the inspirer of 
 this picture of rustic purity should have been named "Nanie." 
 Here the poet sets himself to clothe with suitable words one of 
 our most popular native melodies, and unless he had closed each 
 verse with the familiar name " My Nanie, O," nothing that he 
 could have composed for it could have answered the purpose so 
 well. 
 
 The early copy in the Common-place Book does not materially 
 differ from that afterwards published ; but at the end of verse 
 first, and at the close of the song, he gives the following chorus : 
 
 "And O my bonie Nanie, O, 
 
 My young, my handsome Nanie, O ; 
 Tho" I had the world all at my will, 
 I would give it all for Nanie, O. " 
 
 SONG GREEN GROW THE RASHES. 
 (EDINBURGH ED., 1787.) 
 
 Chor. Green grow the rashes, O ; 
 Green grow the rashes, O ; 
 The sweetest hours that e'er I spend, 
 Are spent among the lasses, O. 
 
 THERE'S nought but care on ev'ry han', 
 
 In every hour that passes, O : 
 What signifies the life o' man, 
 
 An* ^twere na for the lasses, O. if it were not 
 Green grow, &c.
 
 <Cr. 25.] POEMS AND SONGS. 55 
 
 The war'ly race may riches chase, worldly 
 
 An' riches still may fly them, O ; 
 
 An' tho' at last they catch them fast, 
 Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, O. 
 Green grow, &c. 
 
 But gie me a cannie hour at e'en, quiet 
 
 My arms about my dearie, O ; 
 An' war'ly cares, an' war'ly men, 
 
 May a' gae tapsalteerie, O. topsy-turvy 
 
 Green grow, &c. 
 
 For you sae douce, ye sneer at this ; gravely prudent 
 Ye' re nought but senseless asses, O: 
 
 The wisest man the warl' e'er saw, 
 He dearly lov'd the lasses, O. 
 
 Green grow, &c. 
 
 Auld Nature swears, the lovely dears 
 Her noblest work she classes, O : 
 
 Her prentice han' she try'd on man, 
 An' then she made the lasses, O. 
 
 Green grow, &c. 
 
 [The author has nowhere given an indication of the date of 
 this widely popular song. He entered it among other early pieces 
 in his Common-place Book in August, 1784. It may have been 
 then just composed ; but a Tarbolton contemporary spoke of it 
 to Chambers, as a Lochlea production, in these terms: "Burns 
 composed a song on almost every tolerable-looking lass in the 
 parish, and finally one in which he embraced them all." It is 
 certain, however, that its crowning stanza the last one was not 
 added till a much later date, perhaps not till he brushed up the 
 song to appear in his Edinburgh volume of 1787. This is proved 
 by the fact that in his early manuscript copies that verse is wanting. 
 
 The poet's son Robert, during the period of his retirement in 
 Dumfries, used, in connection with this song, to repeat a stanza 
 added by himself, which deserves preservation as a happy sequel 
 to his father's idea in the closing verse. It is as follows : 
 
 Frae man's ain side the form was made 
 
 That a 1 God's wark surpasses, O ; 
 Man only Iocs his ain heart's bluid, 
 
 Wha dearly loves the lasses, O."
 
 56 POEMS AND SONGS. 
 
 In all the author's printed copies, except in the Museum, the 
 word spend, in line third of the chorus, is altered to spent to the 
 detriment of the poet's grammar. We therefore adhere to the 
 Museum copy in that particular, which corresponds with the MS. 
 of the Common-place Book.] 
 
 SONG " INDEED WILL I," QUO' FINDLAY. 
 
 Tune " L,ass, an I come near thee." 
 (JOHNSON'S MUSEUM, 1792.) 
 
 " Wha is that at my bower-door?" who 
 
 ' O wha is it but Findlay ! ' 
 
 go your I 
 
 ;( Then gae your gate, ye 'se nae be here :" ways) 
 'Indeed maun /,' quo' Findlay, must i 
 
 "What make ye, sae like a thief?" do you 
 
 ' O come and see, ' quo' Findlay ; 
 
 "Before the morn ye' 11 work mischief" 
 ' Indeed will I, ' quo' Findlay. 
 
 " Gif I rise and let you in" n 
 
 'Let me in,' quo' Findlay, 
 "Ye' 11 keep me waukin^'H your din" awake noise 
 
 'Indeed will I,' quo' Findlay, 
 u In my bower if ye should stay" 
 
 ' Let me stay, ' quo' Findlay ; 
 "I fear ye' 11 bide till break o' day" remain 
 
 'Indeed will I,' quo' Findlay. 
 
 " Here this night if ye remain " 
 
 'I'll remain,' quo' Findlay; 
 "I dread ye' 11 learn the gate again" way 
 
 ' Indeed will I,' quo' Findlay. 
 "What may pass within this bower" 
 
 'Let it pass,' quo' Findlay; 
 "Ye maun conceal till your last hour" must 
 
 'Indeed will I,' quo' Findlay.
 
 JUt. 25.] POEMS AND SONGS. 57 
 
 [We consider ourselves justifiable in recording this as a produc- 
 tion of the Lochlea period of the author's life. Gilbert Burns 
 assured Cromek that his brother composed it in emulation of a 
 piece in Ramsay's Tea-table Miscellany, called "The auld man's 
 best argument." An old woman in Tarbolton, named Jean Wilson, 
 used to divert him and his companions by singing it with great 
 effect ; and Gilbert supposed the poet had not then seen Ramsay's 
 song. 
 
 James Findlay, an Officer of Excise in Tarbolton, who afterwards 
 married one of the "belles of Mauchline," was appointed, in 
 March, 1788, to train Burns for the duties of an exciseman. It is 
 by no means improbable that this same Mr. Findlay, or a relative 
 of his, was the hero of the foregoing song.] 
 
 REMORSE : A FRAGMENT. 
 
 (CURRIE, 1800.) 
 
 OF all the numerous ills that hurt our peace 
 
 That press the soul, or wring the mind with anguish, 
 
 Beyond comparison the worst are those 
 
 By our own folly, or our guilt brought on : 
 
 In ev'ry other circumstance, the mind 
 
 Has this to say, ' It was no deed of mine : ' 
 
 But, when to all the evil of misfortune 
 
 This sting is added, ' blame thy foolish self ! ' 
 
 Or worser far, the pangs of keen remorse, 
 
 The torturing, gnawing consciousness of guilt 
 
 Of guilt, perhaps, where we've involved others, 
 
 The young, the innocent, who fondly lov'd us ; 
 
 Nay more, that very love their cause of ruin ! 
 
 O burning hell ! in all thy store of torments 
 
 There's not a keener lash ! 
 
 Lives there a man so firm, who, while his heart 
 
 Feels all the bitter horrors of his crime, 
 
 Can reason down its agonizing throbs ; 
 
 And, after proper purpose of amendment, 
 
 Can firmly force his jarring thoughts to peace? 
 
 O happy, happy, enviable man ! 
 
 O glorious magnanimity of soul 1
 
 58 POEMS AND SONGS. [1783. 
 
 [These lines (reminding one of the "Fragment of a Tragedy," 
 at p. 10) are recorded, under date September, 1783, in the poet's 
 first Common-place Book. It is most probable that the poem is 
 set down at its proper date, prompted by keen self-reproaches 
 produced through the effects of immoral indulgence. In his ob- 
 servations which introduce the piece, he seems to take credit to 
 himself for bearing up against his wretchedness with manly firm- 
 ness, because tempered with a penitential sense of his own mis- 
 conduct. This spirit he terms "a glorious effort of self-com- 
 mand."] 
 
 EPITAPH ON JAMES GRIEVE, LAIRD OF BOG- 
 HEAD, TARBOI/TON. proprietor 
 
 (ORIG. COMMON-PLACE BOOK, 1784.) 
 
 HERE lies Boghead amang the dead, 
 
 In hopes to get salvation; 
 Bnt if such as he, in Heav'n may be, 
 
 Then welcome hail! damnation. 
 
 [This is the earliest sample of an extensive crop of like facetiae 
 which the author, to the close of his life, was fond of producing. 
 It is not very complimentary to the poor laird who provoked it ; 
 yet, by adopting a very slight variation, the poet, in his Kilmar- 
 nock volume, converted this quatrain into a rich compliment to 
 his friend, Gavin Hamilton, thus: 
 
 " The poor man weeps here Gavin sleeps, 
 
 Whom canting wretches blamed ; 
 But with such as he, where'er he be, 
 May I be saved or damned !" 
 
 Boghead lies upwards of a mile due west from Lochlea, and near 
 Adamhill. This epitaph does not accord very well with a gossip- 
 ing anecdote given by Dr. Waddell conveying the allegation of 
 frequent friendly visits paid by Burns to Boghead during this early 
 periodj
 
 26.] POEMS ANFi SONGS. 59 
 
 EPITAPH ON WM. HOOD, SENR., IN TAR- 
 BOLTON. 
 
 (KlLMARNOCK ED., 1786.) 
 
 HERE Souter Hood in death does sleep ; shoemaker 
 
 To hell if he's gane thither, gone 
 
 Satan, gie him thy gear to keep ; cash 
 
 He'll haud it weel thegether. hold together 
 
 [The poet printed this with the title "ON A CELEBRATED RUL- 
 ING ELDER." Every annotator hitherto had held it to apply to 
 one of the elders of Mauchline kirk who aided in the persecution 
 of Gavin Hamilton. It now appears, however, that one of the. 
 Tarbolton elders had, at a much earlier period, also provoked the 
 poet's hostility not certainly by his hypocrisy, but by his ex- 
 treme penuriousness. The epitaph is recorded in the Common- 
 place Book, along with the following, under date April, 1784.] 
 
 EPITAPH ON MY OWN FRIEND AND MY 
 
 FATHER'S FRIEND, WM. MUIR, IN 
 
 TARBOLTON MILL. 
 
 (CURRIE, 1800.) 
 
 AN honest man here lies at rest, 
 As e'er God with his image blest ; 
 The friend of man, the friend of truth, 
 The friend of age, and guide of youth : 
 Few hearts like his with virtue warm'd, 
 Few heads with knowledge so informed : 
 If there's another world, he lives in bliss ; 
 If there is none, he made the best of this. 
 
 [We take the title of this from the original Common-place Book. 
 Currie's heading is simply "Epitaph on a Friend." This has 
 always been regarded as one of the finest of the poet's numerous 
 compliments, paid in a posthumous form, to hale and hearty
 
 60 POEMS AND SONGS. [1784. 
 
 friends. The subject of it was the tenant of "Willie's Mill" of 
 Death and Dr. Hornbook, and a life-long friend of Burns and his 
 relations. He died in 1793. 
 The opening line reads thus in the early MS.- 
 
 Here lies a cheerful, honest breast.] 
 
 EPITAPH ON MY EVER HONOURED FATHER 
 
 (KlIyMARNOCK ED., 1786.) 
 
 O YE whose cheek the tear of pity stains, 
 
 Draw near with pious rev'rence, and attend ! 
 Here lie the loving husband's dear remains, 
 
 The tender father, and the gen'rous friend ; 
 The pitying heart that felt for human woe, 
 
 The dauntless heart that fear'd no human pride ; 
 The friend of man to vice alone a foe ; 
 
 For "ev'en his failings leaned to virtue's side." 
 
 [It is not likely (although not impossible) that this well-known 
 Epitaph, like the preceding, was composed during the lifetime of 
 the subject of it. We find it recorded on the same page, and 
 under the same date (April, 1784), as that to William Muir in the 
 original Common-place Book. Instead of the opening line, as in 
 the text, he has there written 
 
 " O ye who sympathize -with virtue's pains ;" 
 
 and apparently not satisfied with that, he suggests, at foot of the 
 
 page 
 
 "O ye whose hearts deceased merit pains." 
 
 The improvement effected in that line, as afterwards published, is 
 very striking. The death of William Burnes happened at Lochlea, 
 on 1 3th February, 1784. These lines of the son were engraved on 
 the father's headstone in Alloway kirkyard ; and the reader, in 
 musing over it, is apt to revert to the memorable words of John 
 Murdoch: "O for a world of men of such dispositions! I have 
 often wished, for the good of mankind, that it were as custom- 
 ary to honor and perpetuate the memory of those who excel 
 in moral rectitude, as it is to extol what are called heroic ac- 
 tions. Then would the mausoleum of the friend of my youth 
 overtop and surpass most of those we see in Westminster Ab- 
 bey!"]
 
 . 26.] POEMS AND SONGS. 61 
 
 [The following picture of how the position of affairs during the 
 Colonial struggle was viewed in Scotland, by liberals like Burns, 
 has never been surpassed for graphic force and happy terseness of 
 expression. We do not remember to have seen it heretofore al- 
 luded to ; we presume the oversight is due to its being "chiefly 
 in the Scottish dialect." Now that we have rendered it intelligi- 
 ble to American readers we believe it will be better appreciated. 
 J.H.J 
 
 BALLAD ON THE AMERICAN WAR. 
 
 Tune" Killiecrankie." 
 (EDINBURGH ED., 1787.) 
 
 WHEN Guildford good our pilot stood, 
 
 An' did our hellim thraw, man ; helm twist 
 Ae night, at tea, began a plea, one 
 
 Within America, man : 
 Then up they gat the maskin-pat, tea-pot 
 
 And in the sea did jaw, man ; pour 
 
 An' did nae less, in full congress, 
 
 Than quite refuse our law, man. 
 
 Then thro' the lakes Montgomery* takes, 
 
 I wat he was na slaw, man ; wot slow 
 
 Down Lowrie's Burnf he took a turn, 
 
 And Carleton did ca', man : 
 But yet, whatreck, he, at Quebec, of what avail 
 
 Montgomery-like t didyfr', man, &u 
 
 Wi' sword in hand, before his band, 
 
 Amang his en'mies a\ man. u 
 
 * General Richard Montgomery invaded Canada, autumn 1775, and took Mon- 
 treal, the British commander, Sir Guy Carleton, retiring before him. In an 
 attack on Quebec he was less fortunate, being killed by a storm of grape-shot in 
 leading on his men at Cape Diamond. 
 
 tLowrie's Burn, a pseudonym for the St. Lawrence. 
 
 t A passing compliment to the Montgomeries of Coilsfield. the patrons of tho 
 poet
 
 62 POEMS AND SONGS. [1784. 
 
 Poor Tammy Gage within a cage 
 
 Was kept at Boston-ha',* man ; 
 Till Willie Howe took o'er the knowe high 
 
 For Philadelphia, f man ; 
 Wi' sword an' gun he thought a sin 
 
 Guid Christian bluid to draw, man ; good 
 But at New- York, wi' > knife an' fork, wiu 
 
 Sir-Loin he hacked sma',| man. 
 
 Burgoyne gaed up, like spur an' whip, went 
 
 Till Fraser brave didyfr', man ; fcu 
 
 Then lost his way, ae misty day, one 
 
 In Saratoga shaw, man. forests 
 
 Cornwallis fought as lang's he dought^ was able 
 
 An' did the buckskins claw,|| man; 
 But Clinton's glaive frae rust to save, 
 
 He hung it to the wa\ man. mil 
 
 Then Montague, an' Guildford too, 
 
 Began to fear a fa', man ; 
 And Sackville dour, wha stood the stoure^ 
 
 The German chief ** to thraw, man : thwart 
 
 * General Gage, governor of Massachusetts, was cooped up in Boston by Gen- 
 eral Washington during the latter part of 1775 and early part of 1776. In conse- 
 quence of his inefficiency, he was replaced in October of that year by General 
 Howe. 
 
 t General Howe removed his army from New York to Philadelphia In the 
 summer of 1777. 
 
 {Alluding to a razzia made by orders of Howe at Peekskill, March, 1777, when 
 A large quantity of cattle belonging to the Americans was destroyed. 
 
 \ General Burgoyne surrendered his army to General Gates, at Saratoga, on 
 the Hudson, October, 1776. 
 
 | Alluding to the active operations of Lord Cornwallis in Virginia, in 1780, all 
 of which ended, however, in his surrender of his army at Yorktown, October, 
 1781, while vainly hoping for reinforcements from General Clinton at New York. 
 
 ** The German chief was Baron Steuben, a general of the Revolutionary Army. 
 He was a native of Prussia, and adjutant-general in its army. Being in Paris 
 in 1777, he was invited by St. Germain to go to America, and forthwith set out 
 and joined Washington at Valley Forge. In 1780 he held a command in Virginia, 
 and was on the staff of General Lafayette at the siege of Yorktown. Having 
 spent his whole fortune on his men, Congress, in 1790, voted him an annuity of 
 $3,50) and a township of land in the State of New York. J. H.
 
 T. 26.] POEMS AND SONGS. 63 
 
 For Paddy Burke, * like ony Turk, 
 
 Nae mercy had at a', man ; 
 An' Charlie Fox threw by the box, aside 
 
 An' lows' 1 d his tinkler jaw, man. unloosed 
 
 Then Rockingham took up the game ; 
 
 Till death did on him ca\ man ; call 
 
 When Shelburne meek held up his cheek, 
 
 Conform to gospel law, man: 
 Saint Stephen's boys, wi' jarring noise, 
 
 They did his measures thraw, man ; thwart 
 For North an' Fox united stocks, 
 
 An' bore him to the wa,' man.f 
 
 Then clubs and hearts were Charlie's cartes^ cards 
 
 He swept the stakes awa', man, 
 Till the diamond's ace, of Indian race, 
 
 Led him a sair faux pas, man : J 
 The Saxon lads, wi' loud placads^ plaudits 
 
 On Chatham's boy did ca', man ; 
 An' Scotland drew her pipe an' blew, 
 
 "Up, Willie, waur them a', manl n || worst 
 
 Behind the throne then Granville's gone, 
 
 A secret word or twa, man ; 
 While slee Dundas arous'd the class *y 
 
 Be-north the Roman wa', man : 
 
 Edmund Burke advocated a policy of justice and conciliation towards America, 
 rhich, had it been adopted, would have averted (at least for a time) the War of 
 Independence. J. H. 
 
 fLord North's administration was succeeded by that of the Marquis of Rock- 
 ingham, March, 1782. At the death of the latter in the succeeding July, Lord 
 Shelburne became prime minister, and Mr. Fox resigned his secretaryship. 
 Under his lordship, peace was restored, January, 1783. By the union of Lord 
 North and Mr. Fox, Lord Shelburne was soon after forced to resign in favor of 
 his rivals, the heads of the celebrated coalition. 
 
 J Fox's famous India Bill, by which his ministry was brought to destruction 
 December, 1783. 
 
 g William Pitt, second son of the Earl of Chatham. J. H. 
 
 | A popular Scottish song.
 
 64 POEMS AND SONGS. [1784. 
 
 An' Chatham's wraith, in heav'nly^r^, 
 
 (Inspired bardies saw, man), 
 Wi' kindling eyes, cry'd, "Willie, rise! 
 
 Would I hae fear'd them a', man?" 
 
 But, word an' blow, North, Fox and Co. 
 
 Gowff'd Willie like a ba', man ; batted 
 
 Till Suthron raise, an coost their claise * their i 
 
 clothes / 
 
 Behind him in a raw, man : 
 An' Caledon threw by the drone, Bagpipe 
 
 An' did her whittle draw, man ; sword 
 
 An' swoor fu' rude, thro' dirt an' bluid, wore 
 
 To mak it guid in law, man.* 
 
 [With the exception of a very few expressions in the foregoing 
 piece, it does not seem to have attracted popular attention. It 
 was most likely a production of the spring of 1784, although 
 not published in the author's first edition. He applied to the 
 Earl of Glencairn and to Mr. Erskine, Dean of Facult/, for 
 their opinion as to the policy of including it in his Edinburgh 
 volume, and they seem to have approved of it. Dr. Blair very 
 characteristically remarked, on reading the ballad, that "Burns' 
 politics smell of the smithy." This may be true, but the poli- 
 tics of the smithy regarding these matters did ultimately prr 
 vail.] 
 
 REPLY TO AN ANNOUNCEMENT BY J. RAN- 
 
 KINE 
 
 ?HAT A GIRI, IN HIS NEIGHBORHOOD WAS WITH CHII<D TO THE 
 
 POET. 
 
 (STEWART, 1801.) 
 
 I AM a keeper of the law 
 
 In some sma* points, altho' not #' ; small *n 
 
 *In the new parliament called by Mr. Pitt, after his accession to office in the 
 spring of 1784, amidst the many new members brought in for his support, and 
 that of the king's prerogative, there was an exceeding proportion from Scotland,
 
 x. 26.] POEMS AND SONGS. 65 
 
 Some people tell me gin I fa\ if fail 
 
 Ae way or ither, one 
 
 The breaking of ae point, tho' sma', 
 
 Breaks a' thegither.* together 
 
 I hae been in for't ance or twice, have once 
 And winna say 0Vr far for thrice ; wiiinot to* 
 Yet never met wi' that surprise 
 
 That broke my rest ; 
 But now a rumor's like to rise 
 
 curlew or-i 
 i' the nest ! f screamer/ 
 
 [The girl Elizabeth Paton, referred to in Rankine's announce^ 
 ment, had been a servant at Lochlea about the period of the 
 Poet's father's death, in Feb., 1784. Thereafter, when the Burnes 
 family removed to Mossgiel, the girl went to her own home at 
 Largieside, in Rankine's neighborhood. In the natural course 
 of events, the poet had soon occasion to write his famous 
 " Epistle " to the same correspondent, on the subject of the pre- 
 ceding verses. That production accordingly now follows as a 
 proper sequel.] 
 
 EPISTLE TO JOHN RANKINE, FARMER, ADAM- 
 
 ENCIXJSING SOME POEMS. 
 
 (KII.MARNOCK ED., 1786.) 
 O ROUGH, rude, ready-witted Rankine, 
 
 J ' choice of good 
 
 The wale c? cocks for fun an' drinking ! fellows \ 
 There's mony godly folks are thinking, 
 
 Your dreams | and tricks 
 Will send you Korah-like a-sinkin, 
 
 Sir aught to auld Nick's. straight 
 
 * James ii. 10. 
 fThe girl is pregnant. 
 
 t A certain humorous dream of his was then making a noise in the country 
 iide. R. B. 
 
 I. B
 
 66 POEMS AND SONGS. [1784. 
 
 Ye hae sae mony cracks an' cants, * 
 
 And in your wicked, drucken rants, drunken frolics 
 
 Ye mak a devil o' the saunts, sainu 
 
 An' fill them fou ; full 
 
 And then their failings, flaws, an' wants, 
 
 Are a' seen thro'. 
 
 Hypocrisy, in mercy spare it ! 
 
 That holy robe, O dinna tear it! do not 
 
 Spare' t for their sakes, wha aften wear it 
 
 The lads in black ; 
 But your curst wit, when it comes near it, 
 
 Rives' t off their back, tears it from 
 
 Think, wicked Sinner, wha ye' re skaithing : harming 
 It's just the 'Blue-gown' badge an' claithingf 
 O' saunts; tak that, ye lecte them naething ^} 
 To ken them by, know 
 
 Frae ony unregenerate heathen, from 
 
 you or I. 
 
 I've sent you here some rhymin ware, 
 
 A J that I bargained for, an' mair ; aii more 
 
 Sae, when ye hae an hour to spare, so 
 
 I will expect, 
 
 Yon. sangt ye' 11 sen't, wi' cannie care, quiet 
 
 And no neglect. not 
 
 Tho' faith, sma' heart hae I to sing ! 
 My muse dow scarcely spread her wing ; 
 
 You have so many stories and merry tales. J. H. 
 
 f'Blue gowns" were an order of licensed beggars in Scotland, wearing a badge 
 and a blue cloak or gown. They were called the king's bedesmen. The prac- 
 tice of appointing "blue gowns" was discontinued in 1833, and the last survivoi 
 died in 1863. The Scotch clergy wear black gowns as their " claithing." J. H. 
 
 J A song he had promised the author. R. B.
 
 4JT. 26.] POEMS AND SONGS. 67 
 
 I've play'd mysel a bonie spring, fine tune 
 
 An' danc'd my fill! * 
 
 I'd better gaen an' sair*t the king, served 
 
 At Bunker's Hill. 
 
 'Twas ae night lately, in my fun, 
 
 I gaed a rovin wi' the gun, f 
 
 An' brought a paitrick to the grurt partridge ground 
 
 A bonie hen ; 
 And, as the twilight was begun, 
 
 Thought nane wad ken, none 
 
 know J 
 
 The poor, wee thing was little hurt ; 
 
 I straiket it a wee for sport, stroked little 
 
 Ne'er thinkin they wad fash me for't ; trouble 
 
 But, Deil-ma-care ! 
 Somebody tells the poacher-court, kirk-session 
 
 The hale affair. whole 
 
 Some auld, ns'd hands had ta'en a note, old experienced 
 That sic a hen had got a shot ; such 
 
 I was suspected for the plot ; o< 
 
 I scorn' d to lee ; 
 So gat the whissle o' my groat, % 
 
 An' pay't the fee. 
 
 But, by my gun, o' guns the wale, choice 
 
 An' by my pouther an 1 my hail, powder and shot 
 
 An' by my hen, an' by her tail, 
 
 I vow an' swear ! 
 The game shall pay, owre moor an' dale, 
 
 For this, niest year. next 
 
 * I have got myself into a nice mess. J. H. 
 
 (A sporting simile for unlicensed courting. 
 
 \ Was mulcted in or ordered to pay the penalty. Before the introduction of 
 poor laws into Scotland, fornicators were fined by the kirk-session, the money 
 going for behoof of the poor. In very early times the fine was a groat or 4<f. 
 sterling, whence the word came to be synonymous with fine. Later the fine 
 was a guinea, or higher according to the circumstances of the culprit. J. H.
 
 68 POEMS AND SONGS. [1784. 
 
 As soon's the clockin-time is by, hatching-time 
 
 An' the wee pouts began to cry, puiiets 
 L d, I'se hae sportin by an' by, 
 
 For my gowd guinea ; gold 
 
 Tho' I should herd the buckskin kye cow 
 
 Fort, in Virginia ! * 
 
 Trowth, they had muckle for to blame ! in truth 
 
 'Twas neither broken wing nor limb, 
 
 But twa-three draps about the wame, flank 
 
 Scarce thro' the feathers ; 
 An' baith a "yellow George "f to claim 
 
 An' thole their blethers ! bear abuse 
 
 It pits me ay as mad's a hare ; puts aiway 
 
 So I can rhyme nor write nae mair ; 
 But pennyworths again is fair, 
 
 When time's expedient :J 
 Meanwhile I am, respected Sir, 
 
 Your most obedient 
 
 pt would be interesting indeed to know what were the "poems" 
 which the bard transmitted to Rankine along with this epistle, 
 and even to learn what particular song he had craved from his 
 jolly correspondent. Adamhill is in Craigie parish, although lying 
 within two miles west of I/ochlea, which was a much inferior 
 farm. The special trick referred to in the second stanza was 
 that of filling a sanctimonious professor miserably drunk, by enter- 
 taining him to a jorum of toddy at the farmhouse. The hot- 
 water kettle had, by pre-arrangement, been primed with proof- 
 whisky, so that the more water Rankine's guest added to his 
 toddy for the purpose of diluting it, the more potent the liquor 
 became. 
 
 It was the custom to transport convicts to the "plantations" in Virginia. W 
 have here, probably, the origin of the "poor whites" of that State. J. H. 
 
 fA gold guinea, so-called from bearing the impress of one of the George*, 
 kings of England. J. H. 
 
 t The poet here intimates that he means to " get even " with the Session by 
 taking value for his guinea so soon as opportunity offers. J. H.
 
 Jfff. 26.] POEMS AND SONGS. 69 
 
 Less reprehensible instances of his waggery were his "humor- 
 ous dreams," which the ready-witted farmer of Adamhill had con- 
 veniently at hand to relate whenever he desired to help the 
 progress of his argument, or to administer a rebuke.] 
 
 [A. SEQUEL TO THE TWO FOREGOING.] 
 
 A POET'S WELCOME TO HIS LOVE-BEGOT- 
 TEN DAUGHTER, 
 
 THE FIRST INSTANCE THAT ENTITLED HIM TO THE VEN- 
 ERABLE APPELLATION OF FATHER. 
 
 (STEWART, 1799, COMPARED WITH GLBNRIDDEI,!, MSS., 1874). 
 
 THOU'S welcome, wean ; mishanter fa* me, ^faii } 
 
 If thoughts o' thee, or yet thy mamie, of 
 
 Shall ever daunton me or awe me, daunt 
 
 My bonie lady, 
 
 Or if I blush when thou shalt cd 1 me cmii 
 
 Tyta or daddie. 
 
 Tho' now they ca' me fornicator, 
 
 An' tease my name in kintry clatter, country gossip 
 
 The mair they talk, I'm kent the better, mor known 
 
 E'en let them clash; talk 
 
 An auld wife's tongue's a feckless matter weak 
 
 To gie aney^w^. trouble 
 
 Welcome ! my bonie, sweet, wee dochter, daughter 
 Tho' ye come here a wee unsought for, little bit 
 And tho' your comin' I hae fought for, 
 
 Baith kirk and queir; * choir 
 
 Yet, by my faith, ye 1 re no unwrought for, you were not 
 
 That I shall swear! 
 
 A name for the kirk-session (before which fornicators appeared), from ita 
 often holding its meetings in the choir. J. H.
 
 70 POEMS AND SONGS. [1784. 
 
 Wee image o' my bonie Betty, 
 
 As fatherly I kiss and daut thee, fondi* 
 
 As dear, and near my heart I set thee, 
 
 Wi' as gude will 
 As a 1 the priests had seen me get thee n 
 
 That's out o' h 11. 
 
 Sweet fruit o' many a merry dint, 
 
 My funny toil is now a' tint, iosi 
 
 Sin' thou cam to the war!' asklent, illegitimate!? 
 
 Which fools may scoff at ; 
 In my last plack thy part's be in't coin 
 
 The better ha'f o't 
 
 Tho' I should be the waur bestead, worse off for it 
 Thou's be as braw and bienly clad, finely and comfortably 
 And thy young years as nicely bred 
 
 Wi' education, 
 As ony brat o' wedlock's bed, 
 
 In a' thy station. 
 
 Lord grant that thou may ay inherit 
 Thy mither's person, grace, an' merit, 
 An' thy poor, worthless daddy's spirit, 
 
 Without his failins, 
 'Twill please me mair to see thee heir it, 
 
 Than StOCket mailenS. well-stocked farms 
 
 For if thou be what I wad hae thee, have 
 
 And tak the counsel I shall gie thee, give 
 
 I'll never rue my trouble wi' thee 
 
 The cost nor shame o't, 
 But be a loving father to thee, 
 
 And brag the name o't. boast
 
 JJT. 26.] POEMS AND SONGS. 71 
 
 [The heading to the above poem is that in the Glenriddell 
 volume preserved in Liverpool ; but the copy entered there in 
 Burns' autograph differs considerably from that first given to the 
 world by Stewart. The verses are differently arranged, and the 
 poem contains two hitherto unpublished stanzas, besides an entire 
 remodelling of the verse which is last in the Glenriddell copy, 
 and the fifth in Stewart. By some inadvertency, as we suppose, 
 Burns, in transcribing the poem, had omitted Stewart's closing 
 verse (the seventh in our text), which is so fine that it cannot 
 be dispensed with. Through the kindness of Dr. Carruthers, of 
 Inverness, we have been supplied with a copy of this poem which 
 Burns presented to the aged Wm. Tytler, Esq., of Woodhouselee. 
 It corresponds almost entirely with the Glenriddell version, and 
 contains the stanza wanting there. That and other Burns' MSS., 
 to be hereafter noticed, are in the possession of Mr. Tytler's great- 
 grandson, Colonel Fraser-Tytler, of Aldourie. 
 
 The child born in Nov., 1784 was tenderly reared and educated 
 at Mossgiel under the care of the poet's mother and sisters. 
 When " Betty Burns " arrived at the age of twenty-one years, 
 she received ^"200 as a marriage-portion out of a fund that had 
 been subscribed for the widow and children of the bard. She 
 bore a striking resemblance to her father, and became the wife 
 of Mr. John Bishop, overseer at Polkemmet, Linlithgowshire, and 
 died in December, 1816, at the age of thirty -two. We have heard 
 nothing of her offspring or her descendants. 
 
 The third and sixth stanzas are those that were brought to 
 light in 1874 from the Glenriddell MSS. 
 
 The public is now in possession of the complete poem, with 
 the author's last touches.} 
 
 SONG O LEAVE NOVELS. 
 
 , 1801.) 
 
 O LEAVE novels,* ye Mauchline belles, 
 Ye' re safer at your spinning-wheel ; 
 
 Such witching books are baited hooks 
 For rakish rooks like Rob Mossgiel ; 
 
 * The Ayrshire pronunciation of novel Is (or was) no-veF, being 1 , as is the case 
 with many Scotch words, closer to the sound of the French original than tht 
 English pronunciation is. J. H.
 
 72 POEMS AND SONGS. [1784; 
 
 Your fine Tom Jones and Grandisons, 
 They make your youthful fancies reel ; 
 
 They heat your brains, and fire your veins, 
 And then you're prey for Rob Mossgiel. 
 
 Beware a tongue that's smoothly hung, 
 
 A heart that warmly seems to feel ; 
 That feeling heart but acts a part 
 
 'Tis rakish art in Rob Mossgiel. 
 The frank address, the soft caress, 
 
 Are worse than poisoned darts of sted ; 
 The frank address, and politesse, 
 
 Are all finesse in Rob Mossgiel. 
 
 [This song contains excellent advice to the young women of 
 Mauchline. It would have been well for at least one of those 
 "belles" had she acted on the poet's candid warning; but, accord- 
 ing to the philosophy of a reverend biographer of Burns, whose 
 observations are commended by Lockhart "To warn the young 
 and unsuspecting of their danger, is only to stimulate their curi- 
 osity." The warning, in that case, were better withheld.] 
 
 FRAGMENT THE MAUCHLINE LADY. 
 
 (CROMEK, 1808.) 
 
 WHEN first I came to Stewart Kyle, 
 
 My mind it was na steady ; not 
 
 Where'er I gaed, where'er I rade^ went rode 
 
 A mistress still I had ay : 
 
 But when I came roun' by Mauchline toun, 
 
 Not dreadin anybody, 
 My heart was caught, before I thought, 
 
 And by a Mauchline lady. 
 
 [If the Epistle to Davie was composed in January, 1785, then it 
 follows that the poet's first rencontre with Jean Armour was in the 
 uiuuier of 1784. The present fragment, in that case, must apply
 
 -SJT. 26.] POEMS AND SONGS. 73 
 
 to her. It is a free parody of the old song, " I had a horse and I 
 had nae mair," to which tune the author directs it to be set. 
 
 "Stewart Kyle," or Kyle-Stewart, is that part of the central dis- 
 trict of Ayrshire which lies between the rivers Irvine and Ayr. 
 The poet was originally of "King Kyle," or Kyle-Carrick die 
 district between the Ayr and the Doon. He shifted to Stewart 
 Kyle on leaving Mount Oliphant for Lochlea, in 1777.] 
 
 FRAGMENT MY GIRL SHE'S AIRY. 
 
 Tune "Black Jock." 
 (ORIG. COMMON-PLACE BOOK, 1872.) 
 
 [See Introduction to Common-place Book.] 
 
 MY girl she's airy, she's buxom and gay ; 
 
 Her breath is as sweet as the blossoms in May ; 
 
 A touch of her lips it ravishes quite : 
 She's always good natur'd, good humor' d, and free ; 
 She dances, she glances, she smiles upon me ; 
 
 I never am happy when out of her sight. 
 
 Her slender neck, her handsome waist, 
 Her hair well curled, her stays well lac'd, 
 Her taper white leg with 
 For her ...... 
 
 And O for the joys of a long winter night. 
 
 [The above fragment of a song the poet records in his Com- 
 mon-place Book, under date September, 1784. The editor of the 
 printed copy of that curious MS. has noted that in the original 
 there is some "defect," where the blanks are filled up with 
 asterisks. Had the fragment been recorded a year later, we 
 might safely assume that Jean Armour was the "airy girl" here 
 sketched out] 
 
 THE BELLES OF MAUCHLINE. 
 
 (CURRIE, 1800.) 
 
 IN Mauchline there dwells six proper young belles, 
 The pride of the place and its neighborhood a' ; 
 
 Their carriage and dress, a stranger would guess, 
 In London or Paris, they'd gotten it a'.
 
 74 POEMS AND SONGS. [1784, 
 
 Miss Miller is fine, Miss Markland's divine, 
 
 Miss Smith she has wit, and Miss Betty is braw : { dossed 
 
 There's beauty and fortune to get wi' Miss Morton, 
 But Armour's the jewel for me o' them a'. 
 
 [For the sake of the interest involved in whatever interested 
 Burns, the after-history of the "six proper young belles," cata- 
 logued by him in this little piece, has been traced and is here 
 recorded. Miss Helen Miller married Burns' friend, Dr. Macken- 
 zie. The "divine" Miss Markland was married to Mr. James 
 Findlay, an officer of excise, first at Tarbolton, afterwards at 
 Greenock. The witty Miss Jean Smith bestowed herself upon Mr. 
 James Candlish, who, like Findlay, was a friend of Burns. The 
 "braw" Miss Betty Miller became Mrs. Templeton ; she was sister 
 of No. I, and died early in life. Miss Morton gave her " beauty 
 and fortune " to Mr. Paterson, a merchant in Mauchline. Of Ar- 
 mour's history, Immortality has taken charge. The last survivor 
 died in January, 1854 ; she was mother of the late Rev. Dr. Cand- 
 lish, of Edinburgh, an eminent minister in the Free Church of 
 Scotland, and latterly Principal of the Free Church College, Edin- 
 burgh, who was laid beside his parents in Old Calton, at Edin- 
 burgh, in October, 1873.] 
 
 EPITAPH ON A NOISY POLEMIC. 
 
 (Kl^MARNOCK ED., 1786.) 
 
 BELOW thir stanes lie Jamie's banes ; these 
 
 O Death, it's my opinion, 
 Thou ne'er took such a bletftrin b-tch blathering 
 
 Into thy dark dominion ! 
 
 [The subject of this versicle was James Humphrey, a jobbing 
 mason, well-known in Mauchline and Tarbolton for his tendency 
 to talk on matters of church doctrine. He used to hint that the 
 poet had satirized him in revenge for being beaten by Humphrey 
 in an argument. He died in 1844 at the advanced age of 86, an 
 inmate of Faile poor's-house ; and many an alms-offering he earned 
 in consequence of Burns' epitaph.] 
 
 (He used to introduce himself to visitors, from whom he hoped 
 to get a trifle, with: "Please, sir, I'm 'the bleth'rin bitch.'" 
 J. H.)
 
 . 26.] POEMS AND SONGS. 75 
 
 EPITAPH ON A HENPECKED SQUIRE. 
 
 (KlI,MARNOCK ED., 1786.) 
 
 As father Adam first was fool'd, 
 (A case that's still too common,) 
 
 Here lies a man a woman ruled 
 The devil ruled the woman. 
 
 EPIGRAM ON THE SAID OCCASION. 
 
 O DEATH, had'st thou but spar'd his life, 
 
 Whom we this day lament ! 
 
 We freely wad exchanged the wife, would have 
 
 And a 1 been weel content. an 
 
 Ev'n as he is, cauld in his graff, cold grave 
 
 The swap we yet will do't ; exchange 
 
 Tak thou the carlin's carcass off, off 
 
 Thou' 1 se get the saul d* boot. YOU win soul to boot 
 
 ANOTHER. 
 
 ONE Queen Artemisa, as old stories tell, 
 When deprived of her husband she loved so well, 
 In respect for the love and affection he show'd her, 
 She reduced him to dust and she drank up the powder. 
 But Queen Netherplace, of a dift'rent complexion, 
 When called on to order the fun'ral direction, 
 Would have eat her dead lord, on a slender pretence, 
 Not to show her respect, but to save the expence ! 
 
 [The three foregoing epigrams were directed against Mr. Camp- 
 bell, of Netherplace, and his wife, whose house and grounds the 
 poet daily passed on his way between Mossgiel and Mauchline. 
 After publication in his first edition they were withdrawn. J
 
 76 POEMS AND SONGS. [1784. 
 
 ON TAM THE CHAPMAN. 
 
 (AI,DINE ED., 1839.) 
 
 As Tarn the chapman on a day, 
 
 Wi' Death forgathered by the way, met accidentally 
 
 Weel pleas' d, he greets a wight so famous, 
 
 And Death was na less pleas' d wi' Thomas, no 
 
 Wha cheerfully lays down his pack, 
 
 And there blaws up a hearty crack: begins chat 
 
 His social, friendly, honest heart 
 
 Sae tickled Death, they could na part ; so not 
 
 Sae, after viewing knives and garters, 
 
 Death taks him hame to gie him quarters, give 
 
 [This was first brought to life by William Cobbett, who printed it 
 in his Magazine. It had been communicated to him by the sub- 
 ject of the epitaph, by name Thomas Kennedy, then an aged 
 person resident in London. He represented himself as having 
 known the poet in very early life, in the neighborhood of Ayr, 
 where both were born and brought up. Kennedy afterwards be- 
 came a travelling agent for a mercantile house in a country 
 town near Mauchline, where he renewed acquaintance with Burns. 
 These lines were composed on Kennedy's recovery from a severe 
 illness. 
 
 This trifle may have suggested to Burns the idea afterwards 
 work*d wit in "Death and Dr. Hornbook."] 
 
 EPITAPH ON JOHN RANKINE. 
 
 (STEWART, 1801.) 
 
 AE day, as Death, that gruesome carl, gnmfeiiow 
 Was driving to the tither war!' the other 
 
 A mixtie-maxtie motley squad, much mixed 
 
 And mony a guilt-bespotted lad 
 Black gowns of each denomination, 
 And thieves of every rank and station.
 
 *JT. 26.] POEMS AND SONGS. 77 
 
 From him that wears the star and garter, 
 
 To him that wintles in a halter : wriggles 
 
 Ashamed himself to see the wretches, 
 
 He mutters, glowrin at the bitches, staring 
 
 " By G d I'll not be seen behint them, 
 
 J ' corps OT\ 
 
 Nor 'mang the sp' ritual core present them, company/ 
 Without, at least, ae honest man, one 
 
 To grace this d d infernal clan ! ' ' 
 
 By Adamhill * a glance he threw, 
 U L d God!" quoth he, "I have it now; 
 There's just the man I want, i' faith ! " 
 And quickly stoppit Rankine's breath. 
 
 [This is another in the same vein as the preceding. Cromek 
 has observed that the first idea of the lines seems to have been 
 suggested by Falstaff's account of his ragged recruits : " I'll not 
 march through Coventry with them, that's flat ! ' ' The piece would 
 be as much to Rankine's taste as a similar compliment, some 
 few years thereafter, was relished by Capt. Grose.] 
 
 LINES ON THE AUTHOR'S DEATH, 
 
 WRITTEN WITH THE SUPPOSED VIEW OP BEING HANDED 
 TO RANKINE AFTER THE POET'S INTERMENT. 
 
 (STEWART, 1801.) 
 
 HE who of Rankine sang, lies stiff and dead, 
 And a green grassy hillock hides his head ; 
 Alas ! alas ! a devilish change indeed. 
 
 [These lines must be regarded as a counterpart to the poet's 
 elegy on himself, composed shortly afterwards, beginning, 
 
 " Now Robin lies in his last lair, 
 He'll gabble rhyme and sing nae mair."] 
 
 * The residence of his friend, John Rankiue, to whom he addresses a iamom 
 ." See p. ^. J. H.
 
 78 POEMS AND SONGS. [1784, 
 
 MAN WAS MADE TO MOURN: A DIRGE. 
 
 (KlJ^MARNOCK ED., 1786.) 
 
 WHEN chill November's surly blast 
 
 Made fields and forests bare, 
 One ev'ning, as I wander' d forth 
 
 Along the banks of Ayr, 
 I spied a man, whose aged step 
 
 Seem'd weary, worn with care ; 
 His face was furrow' d o'er with years, 
 
 And hoary was his hair. 
 
 "Young stranger, whither wand' rest thou?" 
 
 Began the rev' rend sage ; 
 " Does thirst of wealth thy step constrain, 
 
 Or youthful pleasure's rage ? 
 Or haply, prest with cares and woes, 
 
 Too soon thou hast began 
 To wander forth, with me to mourn 
 The miseries of man. 
 
 " The sun that overhangs yon moors, 
 
 Out-spreading far and wide, 
 Where hundreds labor to support 
 
 A haughty lordling's 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. 
 
 " O man ! while in thy early years, 
 
 How prodigal of time ! 
 Mis-spending all thy precious hours 
 Thy glorious, youthful prime !
 
 26.] POEMS AND SONGS. 79 
 
 Alternate follies take the sway ; 
 
 Licentious passions burn ; 
 Which tenfold force gives Nature's law, 
 
 That man was made to mourn. 
 
 " Look not alone on youthful prime, 
 Or manhood's active might ; 
 
 Man then is useful to his kind, 
 Supported is his right : 
 
 But see him on the edge of life, 
 With cares and sorrows worn ; 
 
 Then Age and Want oh ! ill-match' d pair- 
 Shew man was made to mourn. 
 
 ** A few seem favorites of fate, 
 
 In pleasure's lap carest ; 
 Yet think not all the rich and great 
 
 Are likewise truly blest : 
 But oh ! what crowds in 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 heav'n-erected face 
 
 The smiles of love adorn, 
 Man's inhumanity to man 
 
 Makes countless thousands mourn ! 
 
 14 See yonder poor, o'erlabor'd wight, 
 
 So abject, mean, and vile, 
 Who begs a brother of the earth 
 To give him leave to toil ;
 
 80 POEMS AND SONGS. 1784 
 
 And see his lordly fellow-worm 
 
 The poor petition spurn, 
 Unmindful, tho' a weeping wife 
 
 And helpless offspring mourn. 
 
 "If I'm design' d yon lordling's slave 
 
 By Nature's law design' d 
 Why was an independent wish 
 
 E'er planted in my mind? 
 If not, why am I subject to 
 
 His cruelty or scorn? 
 Or why has man the will and pow'r 
 
 To make his fellow mourn? 
 
 " Yet, let not this too much, my son, 
 
 Disturb thy youthful breast : 
 This partial view of human-kind 
 
 Is surely not the last ! 
 The poor, oppressed, honest man 
 
 Had never, sure, been born, 
 Had there not been some recompense 
 
 To comfort those that mourn ! 
 
 u O Death ! the poor man's dearest 
 
 The kindest and the best ! 
 Welcome the hour my aged limbs 
 
 Are laid with thee at rest ! 
 The great, the wealthy fear thy blow, 
 
 From pomp and pleasure torn ; 
 But, oh ! 3 blest relief for those 
 
 That weary-laden mourn!" 
 
 [This solemn composition has " chill November " in its * irtrt*. 
 ductory line, but the author's record of it in the Commo&-place 
 Book is dated "August." That document comes to a sudden close 
 in October, 1785, so that we are forced to regard this as a com- 
 position of November, 1784. He there styles it "A SONG," to
 
 SJT. 26.] POEMS AND SONGa 81 
 
 the tune of " Peggy Bawn." The present generation knows some- 
 what of a modern song and tune called "Molly Bawn," but few 
 alive ever heard of the air thus referred to, whose querulous 
 notes lent their impulse to the mind of Burns, while he com- 
 posed those stanzas. A lovely spot called "Haugh," a mile or 
 more below Mauchline, near where the Lugar flows into the river 
 Ayr, is pointed out as the locality indicated by the poet in his 
 opening verse. In one of his letters to Mrs. Dunlop, Burns 
 writes: "I had an old grand-uncle with whom my mother lived 
 in her girlish years ; the good old man was long blind ere he 
 died, during which time his highest enjoyment was to sit down 
 and cry, while my mother would sing the simple old song, ' The 
 Life and Age of Man.' " In Southey's Doctor we find him thus 
 referring to the present poem, and its connection with the above 
 pathetic incident: "It is certain that this old song was in Burns' 
 mind when he composed to the same cadence those well-known 
 stanzas of which the burthen is 'Man was made to mourn.' 
 But the old blind man's tears were tears of piety, not of regret ; 
 while he thus listened and wept, his heart was not so much in 
 the past as his hopes were in the future. Burns must have 
 been conscious in his better hours (and he had many such) that 
 he inherited the feeling if not the sober piety which is so 
 touchingly exemplified in this family anecdote. "3 
 
 THE TWA HERDS; OR, THE HOLY TULYIE. 
 
 pastors quarrel 
 AN UNCO MOURNFU' TAXE. a very 
 
 (STEWART AND MEIKI,E'S TRACTS, 1799.) 
 
 " Blockheads with reason, wicked wits abhor, 
 But fool with fool is barbarous civil war." POPE. 
 
 O a' ye pious godly flocks, 
 Weel fed on pastures orthodox, 
 Wha now will keep you frae the fox, from 
 
 Or worrying tykes? dogs 
 
 Or wha will tent the waifs an' crocks, &"** stragglers) 
 
 A i_ .LI 77 ffl ld ewes / 
 
 About the dykes? fences 
 
 The twa best herds in a' the wast, west (Ayrshire) 
 That e'er ga'e gospel horn a blast gave 
 
 L F
 
 82 POEMS AND SONGS. [1784. 
 
 These five an' twenty simmers past 
 
 Oh, dool to tell 1 sorrow 
 
 Hae had a bitter black out-cast quarrel 
 
 Atween themsel. between 
 
 O, Moodie, man, an' wordy Russell, worthy 
 
 How could you raise so vile a bustle ; 
 
 Ye' 11 see how "new-light" herds* will whistle, 
 
 An' think it fine ! 
 The L 's cause ne'er gat sic a twistle, 
 
 Sin' I hae min\ remember 
 
 O, sirs ! whae'er wad hae expeckit 
 
 Your duty ye wad sae negleckit, 
 
 Ye wha were ne'er by lairds respeckit 
 
 To wear the plaid ; 
 But by the brutes themselves eleckit, 
 
 To be their guide, f 
 
 What flock wi' Hoodie's flock could rank, 
 
 Sae hale and hearty every shank, 
 
 Nae poison' d soor Arminian stank sour pool 
 
 He let them taste ; 
 Frae Calvin's well, ay clear they drank,- 
 
 O, sic a feast ! 
 
 The thummart, willcat, brock, an' tod| 
 
 Weel kend his voice thro' a' the wood, weu knew 
 
 He smell' d their ilka hole an' road, each and every 
 
 Baith out and in ; both 
 
 An' weel he lik'd to shed their bluid, 
 
 An' sell their skin. 
 
 * The new-light herds " were the moderate," i. e. less or more Arminian or 
 rationalistic section of the clergy of the Scottish church ; the "auld light" con- 
 stituted the Evangelical or strongly Calvinistic party. The distinction continues 
 yet under the names Moderate and Evangelical. J. H. 
 
 t Were not appointed by patrons, but chosen by the flock. J, H. 
 
 \ Polecat, wildcat, badger and fox. Thummart is a corruption of foumart Of 
 fou'-tnartin, so called from its smell. J. H.
 
 26.] POEMS AND SONGS. 83 
 
 What herd like Russell tell'd his tale ; 
 
 His voice was heard thro' muir and dale,* 
 
 He kenn'd the I, 's sheep, ilka tail, everj 
 
 Owre a' the height; 
 An' saw gin they were sick or hale, wheth 
 
 At the first sight 
 
 "Re. fine a mangy sheep could scrub, well 
 
 Or nobly fling the gospel club, swing 
 
 And "new-light" herds could nicely drub, 
 
 Or pay their skin ; 
 Could shake them o'er the burning dub> boi 
 
 Or heave them in. 
 
 Sic twa O ! do I live to see't, such two 
 
 Sic famous twa should disagree' t, 
 
 And names, like "villain," "hypocrite," 
 
 Ilk ither gl en^ Each other given 
 
 While "new-light" herds, wi' laughin spite, 
 
 Say neither* s lien I neither Ues 
 
 A* ye wha tent the gospel fauld, guard fold 
 
 There's Duncan t deep, an' Peebles | shaut , shallow 
 But chiefly thou, apostle Auld, 
 
 We trust in thee, 
 That thou wilt work them, hot an' cauld t cow 
 
 Till they agree. 
 
 Consider, sirs, how we're beset ; 
 
 There's scarce a new herd that we get, 
 
 But comes frae 'mang that cursed set from 
 
 I winna name ; win not 
 
 I hope frae heav'n to see them yet 
 
 In fiery flame. 
 
 * Russell's voice could be heard a mile off. 
 t Rev. Dr. Duncan, of Dundonald. 
 jRev. Wm. Peebles, Newton -on -Ayr. 
 gRev. Wm. Auld, of Mauchline.
 
 84 POEMS AND SONGS. [1784, 
 
 Dalrymple* has been lang our fae, foe 
 
 M'Gillf has wrought us meikle wae, much woe 
 
 An' that curs' d rascal cd'd M'Quhae, \ named 
 
 An' baith the Shaws, both 
 That aft hae made us black an' blae y often blue 
 
 Wi' vengefu' paws. 
 
 Auld Wodrow|| lang has hatch' d mischief; 
 We thought ay death wad bring relief, 
 But he has gotten, to our grief, 
 
 Ane to succeed him, ** 
 A chield wha'll soundly buff our beef; drub us 
 
 I meikle dread him. much 
 
 And mony a ane that I could tell, 
 
 Wha fain would openly rebel, 
 
 Forby turn-coats amang oursel, besides 
 
 There's Smith ff for ane; one 
 I doubt he's but a grey nick quill, soft goose qum 
 
 An' that ye^lljln 1 . you win find 
 
 O ! a' ye flocks o'er a' the hills, 
 
 By mosses, meadows, moors, an' fells, uplands 
 
 Come, join your counsel and your skills 
 
 To cowe the lairds, tumble 
 
 An' get the brutes the power themsels 
 
 To chuse their herds. 
 
 Then Orthodoxy yet may prance, 
 
 An' Learning in a woody dance, gibbet-baiter 
 
 * Rev. Dr. Dalrymple, of Ayr. He baptized Burns. 
 
 fRev Dr. M'Gill, colleague of Dr. Dalrymple. 
 
 t Minister of St. Quivox. 
 
 gDr. Andrew Shaw, of Craigie, and Dr. David Shaw, of Coylton. 
 
 | Dr. Peter Woodrow, of Tarbolton. 
 
 ** Rev. John M'Math, a young assistant and successor to Woodrow. 
 tfRev. George Smith, of Galston, here and in "The Holy Fair" claimed 
 friendly to the "new-light" party; but cried down in "The Kirk's Alarm,"
 
 Jff. 26.] POEMS AND SONGS. 85 
 
 An' that fell cur ca'd "common-sense,"* keen 
 That bites sae sair, so sore 
 
 Be banish' d o'er the sea to France : 
 
 Let him bark there, f 
 
 Then Shaw's an' D'rymple's eloquence, 
 M' Gill's close nervous excellence, 
 M'Quhae's pathetic manly sense. 
 
 An' guid M'Math, 
 Wi' Smith, who. thro' the heart can glance, J who 
 
 May a' pack off. off 
 
 [The author, in alluding to this poem in his autobiography, 
 gives it no title such as that by which it is now distinguished. 
 He calls it "a burlesque lamentation on a quarrel between two 
 reverend Calvinists," and tells us that it was the first of his 
 poetic offspring that saw the light. He does not mean the 
 "light of print," but of circulation in manuscript. In our head- 
 ing we give three titles, taken respectively from various printed 
 copies ; for we are not aware that any holograph copy exists 
 except the one in the British Museum, which calls it "The 
 Holy Tulyie." 
 
 In regard to its date, we suspect that Chambers, in placing it 
 under April, 1785, has no authority beyond a fancied connection 
 between this poem and the epistle to Wm. Simson, of May 
 1785. The reader has been already prepared, by the author's 
 outburst against clerical hypocrisy in the Epistle to Rankine, to 
 find him writing shortly thereafter in the same vein. Lockhart 
 tells us as from personal knowledge that Burns personally wit- 
 nessed in open court the unseemly contention between the "twa 
 herds," to wit, the Rev. John Russell of Kilmarnock, and the 
 Rev. Alex. Moodie, of Riccarton. If so, the ecclesiastical court 
 records may throw light upon the date. Meanwhile, we assume 
 that the affair happened prior to the close of 1784.] 
 
 *" Common-sense " was, and is, claimed as the attribute of the "new-light" 
 or rationalistic party. 
 
 t The poem ends here in the MS. 
 
 tin the Tract, 1799, this line reads, " Wha through the heart can brawly 
 glance," and thus the compliment to Smith is dispensed with, and turned in 
 favor of M'Math.
 
 86 
 
 POEMS AND SONGS. 
 
 [1785 
 
 make MS crouch! 
 over the fire J 
 
 EPISTLE TO DA VIE, A BROTHER POET. 
 
 JANUARY. 
 (KlXMARNOCK ED., 1786.) 
 
 WHILE winds frae off Ben-Ix>mond blaw, from 
 An' bar the doors wi' drivin' snaw. 
 
 An' king us owre the ingle, 
 I set me down to pass the time, 
 An' spin a verse or twa o' rhyme, 
 
 In hamely, westlin jingle : west country 
 
 While frosty winds blaw in the drift, 
 
 Ben to the Chimla lug, into chimney corner 
 
 I grudge a wee the great-folk's gift, little 
 
 That live sae bien an' snug : so comfortably 
 
 I tent less, and want less care 
 
 Their roomy fire-side ; 
 
 But hanker, and canker, envy and grudge 
 
 To see their cursed pride. 
 
 It's hardly in a body's pow'r, 
 
 To keep, at times, frae being sour, 
 
 To see how things are shared; distributed 
 
 TT 1- 1 Z. 7 77- g d fellows I 
 
 How best a chtels are whyles in want, sometimes/ 
 While coofs on countless thousands blockheads 
 
 rant, rampage 
 
 And ken na how to ware^t ; know not spend it 
 But Davie, lad, ne'er fash your head, trouble 
 
 Tho' we hae little gear ; wealth 
 
 We're fit to win our daily bread, 
 
 As lang's we're hale and fier : whole and sound 
 
 " Mair spier na, nor fear na,"* more ak not 
 
 Auld age ne'er mind a feg ; fig 
 
 'Ramsay. R. B.
 
 IB*. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 87 
 
 The last o't, the warst 0V, worst of it 
 
 Is only but to beg.* 
 
 To lye in kilns and barns at e'en, 
 
 When banes are craz'd, and bluid is thin, bones wood 
 
 Is, doubtless, great distress ! 
 Yet then content could make us blest ; 
 Ev'n then, sometimes, we'd snatch a taste 
 
 Of truest happiness. 
 The honest heart that's free frae a 1 fromaii 
 
 Intended fraud or guile, 
 
 However Fortune kick the ba\ bail 
 
 Has ay some cause to smile ; 
 An' mind still, you'll find still, 
 
 A comfort this nae sma 1 ; small 
 
 Nae mair then, we'll care then, 
 Nae farther we can fa 1 . we cannot fail iow 
 
 What tho', like commoners of air, 
 We wander out, we know not where, 
 
 But either house or hal', without 
 
 Yet nature's charms, the hills and woods, 
 The sweeping vales, an' foaming floods, 
 
 Are free alike to all. 
 In days when daisies deck the ground, 
 
 And blackbirds whistle clear, 
 With honest joy our hearts will bound, 
 To see the coming year : 
 
 On braes when we please then, heights 
 
 We'll sit an' sowth a tune; whistle softly 
 
 Syne rhyme iilt't. we'll time till't, afterwards) 
 
 ' to it/ 
 
 An' sing't when we hae done. 
 
 * In Burns' time there were no poor-laws in Scotland, and the only resource 
 that old or disabled destitute persons had was beggary. As poor people in gen- 
 eral did not know but that they might come to this themselves, beggars were 
 much more considerately and familiarly treated than they are now. They were 
 regarded simply as beaten in the struggle with the world, not as disgraced. 
 J. H.
 
 88 POEMS AND SONGS- [1785. 
 
 It's no in titles nor in rank ; 
 
 It's no in wealth like Lon'on bank, 
 
 To purchase peace and rest : 
 It's no in makin muckle, mair ; much into more 
 It's no in books, it's no in lear, learning 
 
 To make us truly blest : 
 If happiness hae not her seat 
 
 An' centre in the breast, 
 We may be wise, or rich, or great, 
 But never can be blest ; 
 Nae treasures nor pleasures 
 
 Could make us happy lang ; 
 The heart ay's the part ay 
 
 That makes us right or wrang. 
 
 Think ye, that sic as you and I, such 
 
 Wha drudge an' drive thro' wet and dry, 
 
 Wi' never ceasing toil ; 
 Think ye, are we less blest than they, 
 Wha scarcely tent us in their way, notice 
 
 As hardly worth their while? 
 Alas ! how oft in haughty mood, 
 God's creatures they oppress ! 
 Or else, neglecting a' that's good, 
 They riot in excess ! 
 
 Baith careless and fearless 
 
 Of either heaven or hell ; 
 Esteeming, and deeming 
 
 It a 1 an idle tale ! an 
 
 Then let us cheerfu' acquiesce, 
 Nor make our scanty pleasures less, 
 
 By pining at our state : 
 And, even should misfortunes come, 
 I, here wha sit, hae met wi' some 
 
 Arts thankfu' for them yet, and am
 
 . 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 89 
 
 They gie the wit of age to youth ; give 
 
 They let us ken oursel ; know ourselves 
 
 They make us see the naked truth 
 
 The real guid and ill : good 
 
 Tho' losses an' crosses 
 
 Be lessons right severe, 
 There's wit there, ye'H get there, 
 Ye' 11 find nae other where. 
 
 But tent me, Davie, ace o' hearts ! attend to me 
 (To say aught less wad wrang the cartes, cards 
 
 And flatt'ry I detest) 
 This life has joys for you and I ; 
 An' joys that riches ne'er could buy, 
 
 An' joys the very best. 
 There's a' the pleasures o' the heart, 
 
 The lover an' the frien' ; 
 Ye hae your Meg, your dearest part, 
 And I my darling Jean ! 
 It warms me, it charms me, 
 
 To mention but her name : 
 It heats me, it beets me, enkindles 
 
 An' sets me a' on flame ! 
 
 O all ye Pow'rs who rule above ! 
 O Thou whose very self art love ! 
 
 Thou know'st my words sincere ! 
 The life-blood streaming thro' my heart, 
 Or my more dear immortal part, 
 
 Is not more fondly dear ! 
 When heart-corroding care and grief 
 
 Deprive my soul of rest, 
 Her dear idea brings relief, 
 And solace to my breast. 
 Thou Being, All-seeing, 
 
 O hear my fervent pray'r ; 
 Still take her, and make her 
 Thy most peculiar care !
 
 90 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. 
 
 All hail ; ye tender feelings dear ! 
 The smile of love, the friendly tear, 
 
 The sympathetic glow ! 
 Long since, this world's thorny ways 
 Had number' d out my weary days, 
 
 Had it not been for you ! 
 Fate still has blest me with a friend, 
 
 In ev'ry care and ill ; 
 And oft a more endearing band 
 A tie more tender still. 
 It lightens, it brightens 
 
 The tenebrific scene, 
 To meet with, an' greet with 
 My Davie, or my Jean ! 
 
 O how that Name inspires my style ! 
 
 The words come skelpin, rank an' file, hurrying on 
 
 Amaist before I ken ! almost know 
 The ready measure rins as fine, 
 As Phoebus an' the famous Nine 
 
 Were glowrin owre my pen. staring 
 
 My spavet Pegasus will limp, spavined 
 
 Till ance he's fairly het ; hot 
 
 And then he'll hilch, zndstt/t, art jimp, jump) 
 
 And rin an UnCO fit ; run uncommon faH 
 
 But least then the beast then 
 
 Should rue this hasty ride, 
 I'll light now, and dight now wipe down 
 
 His sweaty, wizened hide. shrunken 
 
 [The date of this poem is January, 1785, and it is headed by 
 Burns "An Epistle to Davie, a Brother Poet, Lover, Ploughman 
 and Fiddler." This Davie was David Sillar, one year younger 
 than Burns, and also the son of a small fanner near Tarbolton. 
 He removed to Irvine before the poet published his first edition. 
 Smitten with the spirit of emulation, he also printed a volume 
 of rhyming ware, which appeared in 1789, and Burns, then at 
 Ellisland, helped him to his utmost in procuring subscribers. 
 "Davie" did rot make a fortune by the sale of his book; but
 
 XX. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 91 
 
 he applied himself earnestly to business, first as a grocer, and 
 thereafter as a schoolmaster. Eventually he became a councillor, 
 and latterly a magistrate, of Irvine, and survived till 1830, much 
 respected, and possessed of considerable means. 
 
 The poem exhibits Burns in the full blossom of attachment to 
 his Jean. It was not the fate of Sillar to obtain the hand of 
 his "Meg" referred to in the Epistle: she was Margaret Orr, 
 a servant at Stair House.] 
 
 HOLY WILLIE'S PRAYER. 
 
 "And send the godly in a pet to pray." POPB. 
 
 (STEWART AND MEIKI.E'S TRACTS, 1799.) 
 
 ARGUMENT. Holy Willie was a rather oldish bachelor elder, 
 in the parish of Mauchline, and much and justly famed for 
 that polemical chattering which ends in tippling orthodoxy, 
 and for that spiritualized bawdry which refines to liquorish 
 devotion. In a sessional process with a gentleman in Mauch- 
 line a Mr. Gavin Hamilton Holy Willie and his priest, 
 Father Auld, after full hearing in the presbytery of Ayr, 
 came off but second best, owing partly to the oratorical 
 powers of Mr. Robert Aiken, Mr. Hamilton's counsel ; but 
 chiefly to Mr. Hamilton's being one of the most irreproacha- 
 ble and truly respectable characters in the county. On losing 
 his process, the muse overheard him [Holy Willie] at his 
 devotions, as follows : 
 
 O THOU, who in the heavens does dwell, 
 Who, as it pleases best Thysel, 
 Sends ane to heaven an' ten to hell, 
 
 A' for Thy glory, 
 And no for ony gude or ill any 
 
 They've done afore Thee!* in thy | 
 
 sight > 
 
 * It is amusing and instructive to note how differently the respective biogra- 
 phers of the poet have expressed their sentiments regarding this powerful pro- 
 duction. The Rev. Hamilton Paul and the Rev. Hately Waddell seem to invite 
 the friends of religion to bless the memory of the poet who took such a judi- 
 cious method of "leading the liberal mind to a rational view pf the nature of
 
 92 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. 
 
 I bless and praise Thy matchless might, 
 When thousands Thou hast left in night, 
 That I am here afore Thy sight, before 
 
 For gifts an' grace 
 A burning and a shining light 
 
 To a' this place. 
 
 What was I, or my generation, 
 
 That I should get sic exaltation, sch 
 
 I wha deserve most just damnation who 
 
 For broken laws, 
 Five thousand years ere my creation, 
 
 Thro' Adam's cause. 
 
 When frae my mither's womb I fell, from 
 
 Thou might hae plunged me in hell, 
 To gnash my gums, to weep and wail, 
 
 In burnin lakes, 
 Where damned devils roar and yell, 
 
 Chain' d to their stakes. 
 
 Yet I am here a chosen sample, 
 
 To show Thy grace is great and ample ; 
 
 prayer." Dr. Waddell says that the poem "implies no irreverence whatever on 
 the writer's part ; but on the contrary, manifests his own profoundest detestation 
 of, and contempt for, every variety of imposture in the name of religion." His 
 brother divine regards the poem as " merely a metrical version of every prayer 
 that is offered up by those who call themselves of the pure reformed church of 
 Scotland." Motherwell, on the other hand, styles it "by far the most repre- 
 hensible of Burns' pieces, and one which should never have been written." 
 Cunningham timidly shelters himself behind the words of Sir Walter Scott, by 
 calling it a " too daring poem," and " a piece of satire more exquisitely severe 
 than any which Burns ever afterwards wrote." Chambers describes it as "a 
 satire nominally aimed at Holy Willie, but in reality a burlesque of the extreme 
 doctrinal views of the party to which that hypocrite belonged." Many will 
 agree with Sir Harris Nicolas in saying that "the reverend admirers of the 
 poem appear to have compounded with their consciences for being pleased -with 
 a piece showing little veneration for religion itself, because it ridicules the mis- 
 taken zeal of an opposite sect." 
 
 (However regarded by Burns' biographers, this is one of the best known and 
 most frequently quoted of his poems. J. H.)
 
 43T. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 93 
 
 I'm here a pillar 0' Thy temple, f 
 
 Strong as a rock, 
 A guide, a buckler, and example, 
 
 To a j thy flock. ii 
 
 O L d, Thou kens what zeal I bear, knowest 
 When drinkers drink, an' swearers swear, 
 An' singin' there, an' dancin' here, 
 
 Wi' great and sma'; 
 For I am keepit by Thy fear 
 
 Free frae them a'. from 
 
 But yet, O L, d ! confess I must, 
 
 At times I'm fasWd wi' fleshly lust : troubled 
 
 An' sometimes, too, in warldly trust, worldly 
 
 Vile self gets in ; 
 But Thou remembers we are dust, 
 
 Defil'd wi' sin. 
 
 O L, d ! yestreen, Thou kens, wi' Meg yester-even 
 
 Thy pardon I sincerely beg, 
 
 O ! may't ne'er be a livin plague 
 
 To my dishonor, 
 An' I'll ne'er lift a lawless leg 
 
 Again upon her. 
 
 Besides, I farther maun allow, mut 
 
 Wi' Leezie's lass, three times I trow s 
 
 But L d, that Friday I was fou, full 
 
 When I came near her ; 
 Or else, Thou kens, Thy servant true 
 
 Wad never steer her. disturb 
 
 Maybe Thou lets this fleshly thorn perhaps 
 
 Buffet Thy servant e'en and morn, 
 
 Lest he owre proud and high shou'd turn, too 
 
 That he's sae gifted : 
 If sae, Thy han' maun e'en be borne, 
 
 Until Thou lift it
 
 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. 
 
 I/ d, bless Thy chosen in this place, 
 For here Thou hast a chosen race : 
 But G d confound their stubborn face, 
 
 An' blast their name, 
 Wha bring Thy elders to disgrace 
 
 An' public shame. 
 
 L d, mind Gairfn Hamilton's deserts: Gavin 
 He drinks, an' swears, an' plays at carts, cards 
 Yet has sae mony takin arts, 
 
 Wi' great and sma', 
 Frae G d's ain priest the people's hearts 
 
 He steals awa. 
 
 An' when we chasten' d him therefor, 
 
 111 i outburst of) 
 
 Thou kens how he bred sic a splore, ridicule / 
 As set the warld in a roar 
 
 O' laughing at us ; 
 Curse Thou his basket and his store, 
 
 Kail an' potatoes. 
 
 I/ d, hear my earnest cry and pray'r, 
 
 Against that Presbyt'ry o' Ayr; 
 
 Thy strong right hand, L d, make it bare 
 
 Upo' their heads ; 
 Ir d visit them, an' dinna spare, 
 
 For their misdeeds. 
 
 O L d, my G d ! that glib-tongu'd Aiken,* 
 My vera heart and flesh are quakin, 
 To think how we stood sweatin, shakin, 
 
 An' p 'd wi' dread, 
 While he, wi' hingin lip an' snakin, exuitingiy) 
 
 Held up his head. 
 
 An eloquent Ayr lawyer, who argiied his brother practitioner's (Hamilton's) 
 case before the Presbytery SEE ARGUMENT. J. H.
 
 j&t. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 95 
 
 L d, in Thy day o' vengeance try him, 
 I/ d, visit them wha did employ him, 
 And pass not in Thy mercy by them, 
 
 Nor hear their pray'r, 
 But for Thy people's sake destroy them, 
 
 An' dinna spare. do not 
 
 But, L d, remember me an' mine 
 
 Wi' mercies temporal an' divine, 
 
 That I for grace an' gear may shine, wealth 
 
 Excell' d by nane, none 
 
 And a' The glory shall be thine, 
 
 Amen, Amen! 
 
 [The "Argument," or introduction, printed at the head of this 
 poem, is from the bard's own pen. It is prefixed to the copy in- 
 serted in the Glenriddell volume at Liverpool. This enables us 
 with some certainty to decide that the early part of the year 1785 
 was the date of the composition. The "sessional process" re- 
 ferred to really commenced in August, 1784, just before the annual 
 celebration of the communion at Mauchline, when the name of 
 Gavin Hamilton, friend and landlord of the poet, was included in 
 a list of members who were threatened to be debarred from the 
 communion table for "habitual neglect of church ordinances." 
 Hamilton, believing that he himself was the party chiefly aimed 
 at, addressed an angry letter to the kirk session, telling them 
 that they had no just grounds of offence against him, and that 
 they must be conscious of proceeding purely on "private pique 
 and ill-nature." Hamilton, finding the kirk session obstinate, and 
 inclined to treat him still more offensively, appealed to the pres- 
 bytery of Ayr for protection, and in January, 1785, he obtained 
 a decree of that court ordering the erasure of the session min- 
 utes complained of. It was at this stage as we apprehend 
 that the muse of Burns " overheard Holy Willie at his devo- 
 tions ; " but that personage did not content himself with 
 "prayers" merely, for Auld and his confederates refused to obey 
 the presbyterial order, and made appeal to the Synod. The pro- 
 cess there did not close till July, 1785, when the affair was 
 compromised by Hamilton's acceptance of a certificate from his 
 kirk session, granting him to be "free from all ground of church 
 censure. ' ' 
 
 In the complete "Prayer" there are seventeen stanzas, the 
 sixth of which is rarely found in the later manuscripts; perhaps
 
 96 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. 
 
 because Burns felt it to be rather a weak verse, and excluded 
 it in transcribing. It is not in Stewart and Meikle's Tracts, 
 1799, nor in Stewart's volume, 1801 ; but it appears in his second 
 edition, 1802. It is amusing to notice how the various editors 
 have dealt with the text. The Rev. Hamilton Paul gives it pure 
 and uncastrated, excluding only the sixth verse, of the existence 
 of which he might not be aware. Cunningham omits verses 
 sixth and eighth, and corrupts the fifteenth. Mothenvell gives 
 all the seventeen verses, but his fifteenth stanza is the "Dum- 
 fries version," of which we shall presently speak. Chambers 
 omits the sixth, eighth and ninth verses, besides repeating Cun- 
 ningham's corruption of verse fifteenth. The Glenriddell MS. 
 adopts what we have termed the "Dumfries version" of the 
 fifteenth stanza. The poet's friends in that county stumbled at 
 the word "snakin," which, in the text, has a meaning the very op- 
 posite of the English word sneaking. To please them, he altered 
 the structure and effect of the stanza, so that the word objected to 
 has the ordinary meaning of the word "sneaking," but only pro- 
 nounced as an Irishman might "sna&tn'." The following is the 
 altered stanza, and the reader may decide for himself whether it 
 or the Ayrshire version is the better one : 
 
 " O L d, my G d, that glib-tongued Aiken ! 
 My very heart and flesh are quaking, 
 To think how I sat sweating, shaking, 
 
 And p ss'd wi' dread, 
 While Auld, wi' hinging lip, gaed sneaking, 
 
 And hid his head ! " 
 
 The motto from Pope is found only in MS. of this poem 
 made in Dumfries. The same observation applies to the motto 
 prefixed to the Twa Herds.] 
 
 EPITAPH ON HOLY WILLIE. 
 (STEWART, 1801.) 
 
 HERE Holy Willie's sair worn clay sore 
 
 Taks up its last abode ; 
 His saul has to? en some other way, *>ui taken 
 
 I fear, the left-hand road.
 
 ST. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 97 
 
 Stop ! there he is, as sure's a gun, 
 
 Poor, silly body, see him ; 
 Nae wonder he's as black's the grun, ground 
 
 Observe wha's standing wi' him. 
 
 Your brunstane devilship, I see, brimstone 
 
 Has got him there before ye ; 
 But baud your nine-tail cat a wee, a little 
 
 Till ance you've heard my story. 
 
 Your pity I will not implore, 
 
 For pity ye have nane ; 
 Justice, alas ! has gi^en him o'er, given 
 
 And mercy's day is gane. past 
 
 But hear me, Sir, deil as ye are, 
 Look something- to your credit : 
 
 / fi i r blockhead) 
 
 A coof like him wad stain your name, would) 
 If it were kent ye did it. known 
 
 [This "Epitaph" is a poor performance, compared with the 
 main poem ; and the author would seem to have been sensible 
 of this when he refrained from transcribing it into the Glen- 
 riddell volume along with the "Prayer." It was not published 
 till two years after the latter made its first appearance, and we 
 are not aware that it now exists in the poet's autograph. The 
 name of the hero of these biting satires was William Fisher, a 
 leading elder in the parish church of Mauchline. Its kirk ses- 
 sion, in 1785, consisted of three active members Rev. William 
 Auld, Mr. John Sillars, and " Holy Willie." In cases of disci- 
 pline, the reverend incumbent, as moderator, first expressed his 
 opinion, and foreshadowed judgment : William Fisher would ob- 
 sequiously second the minister in the words, "I say wi' you, 
 Mr. Auld what say you, Mr. Sillars?" The latter might either 
 agree or dissent, for it made no difference, he being a hopeless 
 minority in a court like that. Such is the account of " Daddie 
 Auld's" session given by Dr. Waddell, on the authority of local 
 reminiscences gleaned by him in the district. 
 
 Burns, in a poem produced in 1789, refers to his ancient foe, 
 William Fisher, in these words : 
 
 " Holy Will, holy Will, there was wit in your skull. 
 When ye pilfer' d the alms of the poor." 
 
 L G
 
 9S POEMS AND SONGS. [i?8s 
 
 It appears that the sins of the hoary hypocrite rapidly found 
 him out. The date of his death we have not ascertained, but his 
 exit was quite in character ; for he died in a ditch by the road- 
 side, into which he had fallen on his way home from a debauch. 
 Father Auld and he repose in Mauchline kirkyard, almost side by 
 side, the inscription on the minister's tablet recording that he 
 died on i2th December, 1791, in his 8ist year.] 
 
 DEATH AND DOCTOR HORNBOOK, 
 
 A TRUE STORY. 
 (EDINBURGH EDITION, 1787.) 
 
 SOME books are lies frae end to end, from 
 
 And some great lies were never penn'd : 
 
 Ev'n ministers they hae been kenrfd, known 
 
 In holy rapture, 
 A rousing whid at times to vend, startling fib 
 
 And naiVt wi' Scripture, confirm it 
 
 But this that I am gaun to tell, going 
 
 Which lately on a night befel, 
 Is just as true's the Deil's in hell 
 
 Or Dublin city: 
 That e'er he nearer comes oursel to ourselves 
 
 'S a muckle pity. great 
 
 The clachan yill had made me canty, viiiage-aie happy 
 I was na fou, but just had plenty ; fuii 
 
 I stacker" d whyles, but yet took tent ay staggered occa^ 
 
 ' y J sionally care; 
 
 To free the ditches ; avoid 
 
 An' hillocks, stanes, an' bushes, kenri 1 d ay knew 
 
 Frae ghaists an' witches. ghou 
 
 The rising moon began to glowre stare fixedly 
 
 The distant Cumnock hills out-owre : over the top oi
 
 27.] 
 
 POEMS AND SONGS. 
 
 To count her horns,* wi' a' my pow'r, 
 
 I set mysel ; 
 But whether she had three or four, 
 
 I cou'd na tell. 
 
 not 
 
 I was come round about the hill, 
 
 An' todlin down on Willie's mill,f walking totteringiy 
 
 Setting my staff wi' a' my skill, 
 
 To keep me sicker ; steady and safe 
 
 Tho' leeward whyles, against my will, now and then 
 
 I took a bicker. made a lurch 
 
 I there wi' Something did forgather, encounter 
 
 That pat me in an eerie swither ; dismal hesitancy 
 An' awfu' scythe, out-owre ae shmither, shoulder 
 
 Clear-dangling, hang ; 
 A three-tae'd leister on the ither saimon-spear 
 
 Lay, large an' lang. 
 
 Its stature seem'd lang Scotch ells twa, 
 
 The queerest shape that e'er I saw, 
 
 For fient a wame it had ova; beiiy ataii 
 
 And then its shanks, 
 They were as thin, as sharp an' sma' 
 
 AS Cheeks O' branks. \ wooden bridle 
 
 ( Guid-een, ' quo' I ; ' Friend ! hae ye been good-evening 
 
 mawin, mowing 
 
 ' When ither folk are busy sawin ! ' sowing 
 
 Cumnock hills lie southeast from Tarbolton ; and hence, it is argued by Dr. 
 Waddell, the moon could not be seen in crescent from the poet's standpoint. 
 The learned critic has forgot the " clachan yill " 
 
 t Willie's Mill, a mill near Tarboiton, on the river Faile, occupied by William 
 Muir, a crony of Burns, and whose name appears as a subscriber to the Edin- 
 burgh edition of his poems. J. H. 
 
 J Waddell, on the authority of a local informant, says that Death, as well as 
 Hornbook, had a local antitype Hugh Reid, of the Lochlans, "a long ghaist- 
 like body, wi howe chafts and sma' shank-banes, whase deformities were weel 
 seen for he wure short knee-breeks, thin stockings and mucklr shoon." Burns 
 "forgathered " with him that night " abune " Willie's Mill, and kent wha it waj 
 fu' brawly." J. H. 
 
 JThis rencontre happened in seed-time, 1785. K. B.
 
 100 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785 
 
 It seem'd to mak a kind o' stan? tan4 
 
 But naething spak ; 
 
 At length, says I, ' Friend ! whare ye gaun f going 
 'Will ye go back? 
 
 It spak right howe, 'My name is Death, 
 
 'But be na' fley>dS Quoth I, ' Guid faith, alarmed 
 
 'Ye' re may be come to stap my breath; 
 
 'But tent me, billie ; attend friend 
 'I red ye weel, tak care o' skaith, counsel harm 
 
 'See, there's a gully! 
 
 'Gudeman,' quo' he, 'put up your whittle, knife 
 'I'm no design' d to try its mettle ; 
 
 ' But if I did, I Wad be kittle dangerously apt 
 
 'To be mislead d; mischievous 
 
 * I wad na mind it, no that spittle 
 
 Out-owre my beard.' * over 
 
 *Weel, weel!' says I, 'a bargain be't ; 
 
 ' Come, gies your hand, an' sae we're gredt ;*&***> 
 
 'We'll ease our shanks an' tak a seat 
 
 ' Come, gies your news ; give us 
 'This while ye hae been mony a gate, many a road 
 
 ' At mony a house. ' f 
 
 ' Ay, ay ! ' quo' he, an' shook his head, 
 
 'It's e'en a lang, lang time indeed 
 
 ' Sin' I began to nick the thread, cot 
 
 ' An' choke the breath : 
 'Folk maun do something for their bread, must 
 
 1 An' sae maun Death. so 
 
 Burns here commits a solecism in giving the skeleton Death a beard, if we 
 re to accept his words in their literal sense. The poet, however, really makes 
 use of A common Scotch phrase expressive of supreme indifference or contempt, 
 without thinking of its literal meaning. J. H. 
 
 f An epidemical fever was then raging in that country. K. B.
 
 . 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 101 
 
 * Sax thousand years are near-hand fled so. 
 ' Sin? I was to the hutching bred, since butchering 
 'An' mony a scheme in vain's been laid 
 
 ' To stap or scar me ; stop scare 
 'Till ane Hornbook's* ta'en up the trade, 
 
 1 And faith ! he'll waur me. be*t 
 
 'Ye ken Jock Hornbook i' the Clachan 
 'Deil mak his kings-hood in a put se 
 
 SpleUChan \ - tobacco pouch 
 
 ' He's grown sae weel acquaint wi' Buchan f 
 
 ' And ither chaps, other fellows 
 
 ' The weans hand out their fingers laughin, ^M* } 
 'An' pouk my hips. pluck 
 
 'See, here's a scythe, an' there's a dart, 
 'They hae pierc'd mony a gallant heart; 
 ' But Doctor Hornbook wi' his art 
 
 'An' cursed skill, 
 ' Has made them baith no worth a f t, 
 
 'Z> W haet they'll kill ! 
 
 ' 'Twas but yestreen, nae farther gane, 
 ' I threw a noble throw at ane ; 
 'Wi' less, I'm sure, I've hundreds slain; 
 ' But deil-ma-care, 
 
 'It just play 1 ] d dirl On the bane, gave a tremulous stroke 
 
 'But did nae mair. 
 
 'Hornbook was by, wi' ready art, 
 'An' had sae fortify 'd the part, 
 
 * This gentleman, Dr. Hornbook, is professionally a brother of the sovereign 
 order of the ferula ; but, by intuition and inspiration, is at once an apothecary, 
 surgeon, and physician. R. B. 
 
 fBuchan's Domestic Medicine. R. B. Dr. Wm. Buchan died in 1805. His book 
 is still popular in Scotland.
 
 102 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785 
 
 'That when I looked to my dart, 
 
 'It was sae blunt, 
 *Fient haet o*t wad hae pierced the heart {""} 
 
 ' Of a kail-runt. kale-stalk 
 
 'I drew my scythe in sic a fury, 
 
 ' I near-hand cowpit wi' my hurry, overbalanced myself 
 
 'But yet the bauld Apothecary 
 
 ' Withstood the shock ; 
 'I might as weel hae try'd a quarry 
 
 'O' hard whin rock. 
 
 'Ev'n them he canna get attended, cannot 
 
 'Altho' their face he ne'er had kend it, known 
 'Just - in a kail-blade, an' send it, 
 
 'As soon's he smells 't, 
 * Baith their disease, and what will mend it, 
 
 'At once he tells 't 
 
 'And then a' doctor's saws an' whittles, 
 ' Of a' dimensions, shapes, an' mettles, 
 'A' kinds o' boxes, mugs, an' bottles, 
 
 'He's sure to hae; have 
 
 'Their Latin names as fast he rattles 
 
 ' As A B C. 
 
 1 Calces o' fossils, earths, and trees ; 
 
 * True sal-marinum o' the seas ; 
 'The farina of beans an' pease, 
 
 ' He has't in plenty ; 
 ' Aqua-fontis, what you please, 
 
 'He can content ye. 
 
 * For bye some new, uncommon weapons, beside? 
 ' Urinus spiritus of capons ;
 
 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 103 
 
 ' Or mite-horn shavings, filings, scrapings, 
 'Distilled per se ; 
 
 * Sal-alkali o' midge-tail clippings, 
 
 ' And mony mae. ' more 
 
 * Waes me for Johnie Ged's* Hole now,* woe is 
 Quoth I, ' if that thae news be true J these 
 
 * His braw calf- ward f whare gowam grew, daisies 
 
 ' Sae white and bonie, 
 
 * Nae doubt they'll rive it wi j the plew ; plough it up 
 
 'They'll ruin Johnie !' 
 
 /TI -ii T i 1 -i ghastly and I 
 
 The creature grain d an eldritch laugh, unearthly J 
 And says, ' Ye needna yoke the pleugh, plough 
 'Kirkyards will soon be till'd eneugh, 
 
 ' Tak ye nae fear : 
 'They'll a' be trench' d wi mony a sheugh, trench 
 
 ' In twa-three year. 
 
 'Whare I kill'd ane, a fair strae death, | 
 
 ' By loss o' blood or want of breath, 
 
 'This night I'm free to tak my aith, oath 
 
 'That Hornbook's skill 
 'Has clad a score i' their last claith, doth 
 
 ' By drap an' pill. 
 
 'An honest ivabster to his trade, weaver 
 
 ' Whase wife's twa nieves were scarce weel-bred, fists 
 
 Gat tippence-vj<ytfa to mend her head, twopence 
 
 'When it was sair ; sore 
 
 'The wife slade cannie to her bed, slid quietly 
 
 ' But ne'er spak mair. more 
 
 * The grave-digger. A". B. Ged's Hole, the grave, the stomach of the insatiable 
 pike. In Scotland the pike is called the ged. J. H. 
 
 t Churchyard, so-called from being- used as an enclosure for calves, etc. J. H. 
 \ Death in bed, which was ofteu of straw. J. H.
 
 104 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785 
 
 'A country laird had ta'en the baits, botts 
 
 * Or some curmurring in his guts, disturbance 
 'His only son for Hornbook sets, 
 
 ' An' pays him well : 
 
 * The lad, for twa guid gimmer-pets, two-year-oid ewes 
 
 'Was laird himsel. land-owner 
 
 'A bonie lass ye kend her name 
 
 'Some ill-brewn drink had hov* d\vzt wame ; swelled > 
 ' She trusts hersel, to hide the shame, 
 
 'In Hornbook's care ; 
 ' Horn sent her aff to her lang hame, 
 
 'To hide it there. 
 
 'That's just a swatch o' Hornbook's way ; sample 
 ' Thus goes he on from day to day, 
 ' Thus does he poison, kill, an 1 slay, 
 
 ' An's weel paid for't ; 
 'Yet stops me o' my lawfu' prey, 
 
 ' Wi' his d n'd dirt : 
 
 ' But, hark ! I'll tell you of a plot, 
 'Tho' dinna ye be speakin o't ; 
 ' I'll nail the self-conceited sot, 
 
 ' As dead's a herrin ; 
 ' Niest time we meet, I'll wad a groat, next wager 
 
 'He gets \ttsfairinr reward 
 
 But just as he began to tell, 
 
 The auld kirk-hammer strak the bell 
 
 Some wee short hour ayont the twal, beyond twelve 
 
 Which rais'd us baith : both 
 
 I took the way that pleas' d mysel, 
 
 And sae did Death.
 
 JJT. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 105 
 
 [The author himself has fixed the date of this poem, which, 
 like Tam-o'-Shanter, was struck off almost complete at one heat ; 
 for Gilbert has told us that his brother repeated the stanzas to 
 him on the day following the night of the tiff with Wilson at 
 the mason lodge. John Wilson, parish schoolmaster at Tarbolton, 
 had also a small grocery shop where he sold common drugs, and 
 gave occasional medical advice in simple cases, and thus became 
 a person of some importance in the village. According to Mr. 
 Lockhart, he was not merely compelled, through the force and 
 widely-spread popularity of this attractive satire, to close his shop, 
 but to abandon his school-craft also, in consequence of his pupils, 
 one by one, deserting him. " Hornbook " removed to Glasgow, 
 and, by dint of his talents and assiduity, at length obtained the 
 respectable situation of session-clerk of Gorbals parish. He died 
 January 13, 1839. Many a time in his latter days he has been 
 heard, " over a bowl of punch, to bless the lucky hour when 
 the dominie of Tarbolton provoked the castigation of Robert 
 Burns." 
 
 In the author's earlier editions the word did, in verse sixth, 
 ungrammatically reads "does;" and line fifth of the opening stanza 
 reads thus : 
 
 " Great lies and nonsense baith to vend."] 
 
 EPISTLE TO J. LAPRAIK, 
 
 AN OLD SCOTTISH BARD. APRIL I, 1785. 
 (KlLMARNOCK ED., 1786.) 
 
 WHILE briers an' woodbines budding green, 
 
 An' paitricks scraichin loud at e'en, partridges screeching 
 
 An' morning poussie whiddin seen, hare scudding 
 
 Inspire my muse, 
 This freedom, in an unknown frien', 
 
 I pray excuse. 
 
 On Fasten-e'en* we had a rockin, social meeting or bee 
 To co? the crack and weave our stockin; to chat 
 
 Shrovetide, a festival that used to be religiously observed in Scotland. J. H-
 
 106 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. 
 
 And there was muckle fun and jokin, much 
 
 Ye need na doubt ; 
 At length we had a hearty yokin, set-to 
 
 At ' Sailg about. 11 song in turns 
 
 There was ae sang, amang the rest, 
 
 Aboon them a' it pleas' d me best, above 
 
 That some kind husband had addrest 
 
 To some sweet wife ; 
 It thirfd the heart-strings thro' the breast, thrilled 
 
 A' to the life. 
 
 I've scarce heard ought describ'd sae weel, 
 What gen'rous, manly bosoms feel ; 
 Thought I, "can this be Pope, or Steele, 
 
 Or Beattie's wark?" 
 They tauld me 'twas an odd kind chiel toid feiiow 
 
 About Muirkirk.* 
 
 It pat me fidgin-fain to hear't, excitedly eager 
 
 An' sae about him there I spier* t; enquired 
 
 Then a' that kent him round declar'd knew 
 
 He had tngtne ; genius (ingenium) 
 
 That nane excell'd it, few cam near't, 
 It was sae fine : 
 
 That, set him to a pint of ale, 
 
 An' either douce or merry tale, quietly grave 
 
 Or rhymes an' sangs he'd made himsel, 
 
 Or witty catches 
 'Tween Inverness an' Teviotdale, 
 
 He had few matches. 
 
 Then up I gat, an' swoor an aith, oath 
 
 Tho' I should pawn my pleugh an' graith, harness 
 
 A little town among the hills in the southeast part of Ayrshire. J. H>
 
 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 107 
 
 Or die a cadger pownie* s death, hawker pony's 
 
 At Some dyke-back, back of a fence 
 
 A pint an' gill I'd gie them baith, 
 
 To hear your crack. chat 
 
 But, first an' foremost, I should tell, 
 Amaist as soon as I could spell, 
 I to the crambo-jingle fell, rhyming 
 
 Tho' rude an' rough 
 
 Yet Crooning tO a body's SCl, humming person's self 
 Does U'CCl C1lC1lgh. well enough 
 
 I am nae poet, in a sense, 
 
 But just a rhymer like by chance, 
 
 An' hae to learning nae pretence ; 
 
 Yet, what the matter? 
 Whene'er my muse does on me glance, 
 
 I jingle at her. 
 
 Your critic-folk may cock their nose, 
 And say, "how can you e'er propose 
 You wha ken hardly verse frae prose 
 
 To mak a sang ? ' ' 
 But, by your leave, my learned foes, 
 
 Ye' re maybe wrang. 
 
 What's a' your jargon o' your schools 
 Your Latin names for horns an' stools ? 
 If honest Nature made you fools, 
 
 What sairs your grammars ? serves 
 Ye'd better taen up spades and shools, shovels 
 
 Or knappin-hammers. stone-hammers 
 
 A set o' dull, conceited hashes foois 
 
 Confuse their brains in college classes !
 
 108 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785 
 
 They sfaner in stirks. and come out asses, y ear - ld j 
 
 J *> . ' ' steers > 
 
 Plain truth to speak ; 
 
 An' syne they think to climb Parnassus, thereafter 
 By dint o' Greek ! 
 
 Gie me ae spark o' nature's fire, tfve 
 
 That's a' the learning I desire ; 
 
 Then tho' I drudge thro' dub an' mire mud 
 
 At pleugh or cart, plough 
 
 My muse, tho' hamely in attire, 
 
 May touch the heart. 
 
 O for a spunk o' Allan's* glee, spark 
 
 Or Fergusson's, the bauld ari 1 slee, bold and si y 
 Or bright Lapraik's, my friend to be 
 
 If I can hit it ! 
 That would be lear eneugh for me, learning 
 
 If I could get it. 
 
 Now, sir, if ye hae friends enow, have 
 
 Tho' real friends I b'lieve are few ; 
 
 Yet, if your catalogue be fu 1 , fail 
 
 7' se no insist : i win not 
 
 But, gif 'ye want ae friend that's true, if 
 
 I'm on your list 
 
 I winna blaw about mysel, win not brag 
 
 As ill I like my fauts to tell ; faults 
 
 But friends, an' folk that wish me well, 
 
 They sometimes roose me ; praise 
 Tho' I maun own, as mony still must 
 
 As far abuse me. 
 
 * Allan Ramsay.
 
 #T. 27.] POEMS AND SOXGS. 109 
 
 There's ae wee faut thev whiles lav to me, one Ht 'l 
 
 ,., 'tie fault > 
 
 I like the lasses Gude forgie me ! 
 
 For mony a plack they wheedle frae me coax from} 
 
 At dance or fair ; 
 Maybe some ither thing they gie me, other give 
 
 They weel can spare. well 
 
 But Mauchline Race * or Mauchline Fair, 
 
 I should be proud to meet you there : 
 
 We"* se gie ae night's discharge to care, Jw^e} 
 
 If we forgather ; meet 
 
 An hae a swap o' rhymin-ware interchange 
 
 Wi' ane anither. one another 
 
 The four-gill chap,f we'se gar him. clatter, make 
 An' kirsen him wi' reekin water ; christen 
 
 Syne we' 11 sit down an' tak our whitter, then drink 
 
 To cheer our heart ; 
 An' faith, we'se be acquainted better 
 
 Before we part. 
 
 Awa ye selfish, warly race, worldly 
 
 Wha think that havins, sense, an' grace, manners 
 Ev'n love an' friendship should give place 
 
 To Catch-tke-plack ! money-making 
 
 I dinna like to see your face, do not 
 
 Nor hear your crack. chatter 
 
 But ye whom social pleasure charms, 
 Whose hearts the tide of kindness warms, 
 Who hold your being on the terms, 
 
 "Each aid the others," 
 Come to my bowl, come to my arms, 
 
 My friends, my brothers ! 
 
 The race-course at Mauchline was on the high road near the poet's farm. 
 fThe mutchkin, or pint, the largest measure for whiskey used in public- 
 houses. J. H.
 
 110 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. 
 
 But, to conclude my lang epistle, 
 
 As my auld pen's worn to the gristle, 
 
 Twa lines frae you wad gar me fissle,* 
 
 Who am most fervent, 
 While I can either sing or whistle, 
 
 Your friend and servant. 
 
 [We have already seen, in the epistle to Davie, how indulgently 
 Burns regarded the rhyming qualities of his Ayrshire compeers. 
 The song referred to in the third stanza of this poem com- 
 mended itself so much to his sympathies that he took this 
 method of becoming acquainted with its supposed author. We 
 say supposed author ; for in reality it was not Lapraik's own, but 
 a piece he had found in an old magazine, which, by altering its 
 structure a very little, and putting in a Scotch expression here 
 and there, he had the assurance to pass off as his own compo- 
 sition. Burns, who never knew or suspected the plagiarism, 
 afterwards dressed up Lapraik's version and had it printed in 
 Johnson's Museum, where it stands, No. 205, set to an air bv 
 Oswald. Lockhart praises the opening verse, but remarks that 
 (this song excepted) "it is not easy to understand Burns' admira- 
 tion of Lapraik's poetry." The reader will find the original poem 
 in the Weekly Magazine, October 14, 1773. 
 
 John Lapraik was nearly sixty years old when Burns sought 
 acquaintance with him. He had inherited, through a line of 
 ancestors, a small croft near Muirkirk ; but happening to borrow 
 money, by a bond thereon, from the Ayr Bank, he became in- 
 volved in the ruin which soon overtook that unfortunate concern. 
 On the strength of Burns' recorded admiration, the "Old Scottish 
 Bard " ventured to have his poems printed, at the press of J'ohn 
 Wilson, Kilmarnock ; and these were published in 1788.] 
 
 (Lapraik's poems had little success, Burns being nearly his sole 
 admirer. Chambers tells us that Burns, when he received Lapraik's 
 letter in reply to this epistle, was sowing ; and, so eagerly did he 
 peruse it, that he let the sheet drop and spilled the seed, and it 
 was not till he had finished reading that he discovered the loss 
 he had sustained. J. H.) 
 
 * Would make me fidget with pleasure.
 
 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. Ill 
 
 SECOND EPISTLE TO J. LAPRAIK. 
 
 APRIL 21, 1785. 
 (KlLMARNOCK ED., 1786.) 
 
 WHILE new-crfd kye rowte at the stake newiy-caived* 
 
 A . . , . cows low J 
 
 An' pownies reek in pleugh or bratk, smoke. 
 This hour on e'enin's edge I take, loadedharr w / 
 
 To own I'm debtor 
 To honest-hearted, auld Lapraik, 
 
 For his kind letter. 
 
 Forjesket sair, with weary legs, jaded sore 
 
 Rattlin the corn out-owre the rigs, ridges 
 
 Or dealing thro' amang the naigs nags 
 
 Their ten-hours' bite, 
 My awkwart muse sair pleads and begs 
 
 I would na write. 
 
 The tapetless, ramfeezl'd hizzie,* 
 She's saft at best an' something lazy : 
 Quo' she, "ye ken we've been sae busy 
 
 This month an' mair, 
 That trowth, my head is grown right dizzie, 
 
 An' something sair." 
 
 Her dowff excuses pat me mad ; stupid put 
 
 " Conscience, " says I, "ye thowless jade! pithless 
 I'll write, an' that a hearty blaud, large broad-sheet 
 
 This vera night ; 
 So dinna ye affront your trade, 
 
 But rhyme it right. 
 
 *The silly, tired-out hussy.
 
 112 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. 
 
 " Shall bauld L,apraik, the king o' hearts, brave 
 
 Tho' mankind were a pack o' cartes, cards 
 
 Roose you sae weel for your deserts, praise 
 
 In terms sae friendly ; 
 
 Yet ye' 11 neglect to shaw your parts show 
 
 An' thank him kindly?" 
 
 Sae I gat paper in a blink, instantly 
 
 An' down gaed stumpie in the ink : went 
 
 Quoth I, "before I sleep a wink, 
 
 I vow I'll close it ; 
 An' if ye winna mak it clink, win not rhyme 
 
 By Jove, I'll prose it!' % 
 
 Sae I've begun to scrawl, but whether 
 
 In rhyme, or prose, or baith thegither ; both 
 
 Or some hotch-potch that's rightly neither, 
 
 Let time mak proof; 
 But I shall scribble down some blether nonsense 
 
 Just clean ajf-loof. off-hand 
 
 My worthy friend, ne'er grudge an' carp, 
 
 Tho' fortune use you hard an' sharp ; 
 
 Come, kittle up your moorland harp tickle 
 
 Wi' gleesome touch ! 
 Ne'er mind how Fortune waft an warp ; 
 
 She's but a b-tch. 
 
 She's gien me mony *. jirt an' Jleg, ^ ven 
 
 Sin' I could striddle owre a rig ; straddle 
 
 But, by the L, d, tho' I should beg 
 
 Wi' lyart POW, grey head 
 
 I'll laugh an' sing, an' shake my leg, 
 
 AS lang'S / dffW ! mable
 
 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 113 
 
 Now comes the sax-an-twentieth simmer 
 
 I've seen the bud upo' the timmer, 
 
 Still persecuted by the limmer jade 
 
 Frae year to year ; 
 But yet, despite the kittle kimmer, skittish wench 
 
 I, Rob, am here. 
 
 Do ye envy the city gent, 
 
 Behint a kist to lie an' sklent ; chest prevaricate 
 
 Or purse-proud, big wi' cent, per cent. 
 
 An' muckle Wame, large belly 
 
 In some bit brugh to represent burgh 
 
 A bailie's name? alderman's 
 
 Or is't the paughty feudal thane, supercilious peer 
 Wi' ruffl'd sark an' glancing cane, shirt 
 
 Wha thinks himsel nae sheep-shank bane, j t e \ 
 
 But lordly stalks ; account) 
 
 While caps and bonnets aff are taen, taken 
 
 As by he walks? 
 
 "O Thou wha gies us each guid gift ! gives goo* 
 Gie me o' wit an' sense a lift, 
 Then turn me, if Thou please adrift, 
 
 Thro' Scotland wide ; 
 Wi' cits nor lairds I wadna shift, would not change 
 
 In a' their pride !" 
 
 Were this the charter of our state, 
 "On pain o' hell be rich an' great," 
 Damnation then would be our fate, 
 
 Beyond remead ; 
 But, thanks to heaven, that's no the gate way 
 
 We learn our creed. 
 I. H
 
 114 POEMS AND SONGS. [178;. 
 
 For thus the royal mandate ran, 
 When first the human race began ; 
 " The social, friendly, honest man, 
 
 Whate'er he be 
 'Tis he fulfils great Nature's plan, 
 
 And none but he." 
 
 O mandate glorious and divine ! 
 The followers o' the ragged nine * 
 Poor, thoughtless devils yet may shine 
 
 In glorious light ; 
 While sordid sons o' Mammon's line 
 
 Are dark as night ! 
 
 Tho' here they scrape, an' squeeze, an' growl, 
 Their worthless nievefii 1 of a soul handfu; 
 
 May in some future carcase howl, 
 
 The forest's fright; 
 Or in some day-detesting owl 
 
 May shun the light 
 
 Then may L,apraik and Burns arise, 
 To reach their native, kindred skies, 
 And sing their pleasures, hopes an' joys, 
 
 In some mild sphere ; 
 Still closer knit in friendship's ties, 
 
 Each passing year ! 
 
 [Allan Cunningham says, respecting this poem, "I have heard 
 one of our greatest English poets (Wordsworth) recite with com- 
 mendation most of the stanzas, pointing out their all but inim- 
 itable ease and happiness of thought and language. He re- 
 marked, however, that Burns was either fond of out-of-the-way 
 sort of words, or that he made them occasionally in his fits of 
 feeling and fancy. The phrase, ' tapetless, ramfeezled hizzie,' in 
 
 * Motherwell, without a word of comment, altered this reading to "ragged fol- 
 lowers o' the nine," which certainly seems a more consistent one. The change 
 is adopted by Gilfillan.
 
 27.] 
 
 POEMS AND SONGS. 
 
 115 
 
 particular, he suspected to be new to the Scotch dialect ; but I 
 quoted to him the following passage from a letter of William 
 Cowper, dated August, 1787 : ' Poor Burns loses much of his de- 
 served praise in this country through our ignorance of his 
 language. I despair of meeting with any Englishman who will 
 take the pains that I have taken to understand him. His candle 
 is light, but shut up in a dark lantern. I lent him to a very sen- 
 sible neighbor of mine ; but the uncouth dialect spoiled all ; and, 
 before he had read him through, he was quite ramfeezled.' 1 "] 
 
 EPISTLE TO WILLIAM SIMSON, 
 
 SCHOOLMASTER, OCHII/TREE. MAY, 1785. 
 ED., 1786.) 
 
 I gat your letter, winsome Willie ; got winning 
 
 Wi' gratefu' heart I thank you brawlie; heartily 
 
 Tho' I maun say't, I wad be silly, must would 
 
 And unco vain, very 
 
 Should I believe, my coaxin billie, brother 
 
 Your flatterin strain. 
 
 But I'se believe ye kindly meant it : 
 
 I sud be laith to think ye hinted should loath 
 
 Ironic satire, sidelins sklented glanced sideways 
 
 On my poor musie ; 
 
 Tho' in sic phraisin terms ye've penn'd it, flattering 
 
 I scarce excuse ye. 
 
 My senses wad be in a creel* whirl 
 
 Should I but dare a hope to speel, ciimb 
 Wi' Allan,! or wi' Gilbertfield,t 
 
 The braes o' fame : heights 
 
 *I should have lost my head. In Ayrshire, when a person is unduly excited 
 or confused about anything, his senses are said to be " in a creel." 
 
 t Allan Ramsay, a celebrated Scotch poet of the beginning f the seventeenth 
 century, was a barber in Edinburgh. His best known piece is a drama entitled, 
 "The Gentle Shepherd." 
 
 \ William Hamilton, of Gilbertfield, a Scotch poet and contemporary of Allan 
 Ramsay.
 
 116 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. 
 
 Or Fergusson,* the writer-chiel, 
 
 A deathless name. 
 
 (O Fergusson ! thy glorious parts 
 111 suited law's dry, musty arts ! 
 My curse upon your whunstane hearts, 
 
 Ye E^nbrugh gentry ! Edinburgh 
 The tythe o 1 what ye waste at cartes of cards 
 
 Wad stowed his pantry !) stored 
 
 Yet when a tale comes i' my head, 
 
 Or lasses gie my heart a screed give rent 
 
 As whiles they're like to be my dead, sometimes death 
 
 (O sad disease !) 
 
 I kittle up my rustic reed ; tickle 
 
 It gies me ease. gives 
 
 Auld Coila, f now may fidge fz? fain, fidget with pride 
 She's gotten poets o' her ain; own 
 
 Chiels wha their chanters winna ham. fellows ba &-| 
 
 ' pipes spare > 
 
 But tune their lays, 
 Till echoes a' resound again 
 
 Her weel-sung praise. 
 
 Nae poet thought her worth his while, 
 
 To set her name in measur'd style ; 
 
 She lay like some unkeni? d-ofis&K. unknown 
 
 Beside New Holland, 
 Or whare wild-meeting oceans boil 
 
 Besouth Magellan. 
 
 * Robert Fergusson, born 1751, educated at University of St. Andrews, and em- 
 ployed in the office of the Commissary Clerk, Edinburgh, published in 1773 a 
 volume of poems characterized by humor, fancy and purity of language. Burns 
 erected a memorial stone over his grave in Edinburgh. J. H. 
 
 fKyle. See note to The Two Dogs, p. 203.
 
 . 27.] 
 
 POEMS AND SONGS. 
 
 117 
 
 gave 
 
 Ramsay an' famous Fergusson 
 Gied Forth an' Tay a lift aboon ; 
 Yarrow an' Tweed, to monie a tune, 
 
 Owre Scotland rings ; 
 While Irwin, I/ugar, Ayr, an' Boon* 
 
 Naebody sings. 
 
 Th' Illissus, Tiber, Thames, an' Seine, 
 Glide sweet in monie a tunefu' line : 
 But, Willie, set your fit to mine, f 
 
 An' cock your crest ; 
 We'll gar our streams an' burnies shine 
 
 Up w? the best ! 
 
 above 
 
 many 
 
 over 
 
 foot 
 erect 
 make 
 with 
 
 We'll sing auld Coila's plains an' fells, uplands 
 
 Her moors red-brown wi' heather bells, 
 
 Her banks an' braes, her den s and dells, heights hoiiows 
 
 Whare glorious Wallace 
 Aft bure the gree, as story tells, bore the paim 
 
 Frae Suthron billies, southern) 
 
 competitors > 
 
 At Wallace' name, what Scottish blood 
 But boils up in a spring-tide flood ! 
 Oft have our fearless fathers strode 
 
 By Wallace' side, 
 Still pressing onward, red-wat-shod, | 
 
 Or glorious died ! 
 
 O sweet are Coila's haughs an' woods, holms 
 
 When lintwhites chant amang the buds, linnets 
 
 And jinkin hares, in amorous whids, playful capers 
 Their loves enjoy ; 
 
 J * wood-pigeon ) 
 
 While thro' the braes the cushat croods coos) 
 
 With wailfi? cry ! 
 
 wailing 
 
 *The four principal streams of Ayrshire, all in, or bordering, Kyle. J. H. 
 
 t Unite with me. J. H. 
 
 \ Shoes wet with blood. 
 
 J Admirably descriptive of the amorous capers of March hares. J. H.
 
 113 POEMS AND SONGS. 1785. 
 
 Ev'n winter bleak has charms for me, 
 When winds rave thro' the naked tree ; 
 Or frosts on hills of Ochiltree * 
 
 Are hoary gray ; 
 Or blinding drifts wild-furious flee, fly 
 
 Dark'ning the day ! 
 
 O Nature ! a' thy shews an' forms 
 
 To feeling, pensive hearts hae charms! have 
 
 Whether the summer kindly warms, 
 
 Wi' life an' light ; 
 Or winter howls, in gusty storms, 
 
 The lang, dark night ! 
 
 The muse, nae poet ever fand her, found 
 
 Till by himsel he learn' d to wander, aiiaione 
 
 Adown some trottin burn's meander, 
 
 An 1 no think lang: not find itduii 
 O sweet to stray, an' pensive ponder 
 
 A heart-felt sang ! 
 
 The warty race may drudge an' drive, worldly 
 
 Hog-shouther, jundie,f stretch, an' strive ; 
 
 Let me fair Nature's face descrive, describe 
 
 And I, wi' pleasure, 
 Shall let the busy, grumbling hive num 
 
 Bum owre their treasure. ^^[ 
 
 Fareweel, " my rhyme-composing" brither ! 
 We've been owre lang unkenri 1 d to ither : unknown 
 Now let us lay our heads thegither, 
 
 In love fraternal : 
 May envy wallop in a tether, struggle haitet 
 
 Black fiend, infernal ! 
 
 A village on the Lugar some ten miles east of Ayr. J. H. 
 f Jostle with shoulder and elbow.
 
 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 119 
 
 While Highlandmen liate tolls an' taxes ; 
 
 While moorlan herds like guid, fat shepherds 
 
 braXlCS ; * dead sheep 
 
 While terra firma, on her axis, 
 
 Diurnal turns ; 
 Count on a friend, in faith an' practice, 
 
 In Robert Burns, f 
 
 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 MY memory's r.o worth a preen; pin 
 
 I had amaist forgotten clean, almost 
 Ye bade me write you what they mean 
 
 By this 'new-light,'! 
 
 'Bout which our herds sae aft hae been pastors 
 
 Maist like to fight. almost 
 
 In days when mankind were but callans boys 
 
 At grammar, logic, an' sic talents, 
 
 They took nae pains their speech to balance, 
 
 Or rules to gie ; give 
 
 But spak their thoughts in plain, 
 
 braid Lallans, i^wiand scotch 
 
 Like you or me. 
 
 In thae auld times, they thought the moon, these 
 Just like a sark, or pair o' shoon, shirt shoes 
 
 * The sheep that die on the hills are the perquisite of the shepherd. J. H. 
 
 fThis is perhaps the solitary instance of the poet writing his name with one 
 syllable prior to April 14, 1786. The closing stanza of the second epistle to 
 Lapraik shows the short spelling, but that verse was so altered after the date 
 referred to. The original MS. of the present poem has not been found. 
 
 J New-Light was the term applied to the approximately rationalistic views held 
 by a section of the Scottish church. The -work of Dr. John Taylor, of Norwich, 
 entitled " The Scripture Doctrine of Original Sin," had been extensively read in 
 Scotland by both clergy ancl laity, and had given rise to a pretty definite form 
 of rationalism. Even the poet's father was inclined to soften the rigid Calvinism 
 of the orthodox or "Auld-Ught" party. Burns himself was in full sympathy 
 with the New Light section. J. H.
 
 120 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. 
 
 Wore by degrees, till her last roon selvage 
 
 Gaed past their viewin ; went 
 
 An' shortly after she was done 
 
 They gat a new ane. got one 
 
 This past for certain, undisputed ; 
 
 It ne'er cam z' their heads to doubt it, . never in 
 
 Till chiels gat up an' wad confute it, fellows would 
 
 An' ca'd it wrang ; called 
 
 An' muckle din there was about it, much noise 
 
 Baith loud an 'lang. both 
 
 Some herds, weel learn' d upo' the beuk, book 
 
 Wad threap auld folk the thing misteuk ; maintain old, 
 
 TA 1 11 1 mistook/ 
 
 For 'twas the auld moon turn'd a neuk comer 
 
 An' out o' sight, 
 
 An' backlinS-COmin, tO the leuk, coming backward view 
 
 She grew mair bright. more 
 
 This was denied, it was affirm' d ; 
 
 The herds and kissels were alarm' d ; pastors and flocks 
 
 The rev' rend gray-beards rav'd an' storm' d, 
 
 That beardless laddies b 0ys 
 Should think they better were inform' d, 
 
 Than their auld daddies, old dads 
 
 Frae less to mair, it gaed to sticks ; from went cudgels 
 Frae words an' aiths, to clours an' nicks; oaths bruises ) 
 An' monie a fallow gat his licks, many got 
 
 Wl' hearty Cmnt; knock on the head 
 
 An' some, to learn them for their tricks, 
 
 Were hang'd an' brunt, burned 
 
 This game was play'd in mony lands, a ostles . 
 
 An' ' ( auld-light ' ' * caddies\ bure sic hands, bore such / 
 
 See note New Light on preceding page. 
 
 t Caddies were properly men who ran errands, etc., in the streets of Edin- 
 burgh ; hence, the word signifies one charged with a message, an apostle. J. H,
 
 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 12* 
 
 That faith, the youngsters took the sands fled tothe \ 
 
 f-, -u i r , seashore J 
 
 Wi nimble shanks ; i egs 
 
 Till lairds forbad, by strict commands, authorities 
 
 Sic bluidy pranks. * bloody sports 
 
 But ' ' new-light ' ' herds gat sic a cowe, humbling 
 Folk thought them ruin' d stick-an-stowe ; stalkand \ 
 
 ' blade (totally)} 
 
 lill now, amaist on ev ry knowe k noii (puipu) 
 
 Ye' 11 find ane plac'd ; 
 
 An' some, their "new-light" fair avow, 
 Just quite barefac'd. 
 
 Nae doubt the "auld-light" flocks are bleatin ; 
 Their zealous herds are vex'd and sweatin ; 
 Mysel, I've even seen them greetin weeping 
 
 Wi' girnin spite, grinning 
 
 To hear the moon sae sadly lied on 
 
 By word an' write. 
 
 But shortly they will cowe the louns! humble rascals 
 
 Some "auld-light" herds in neebor 
 
 . parishes 
 
 Are mind't, in things they ca' balloons, 
 To tak a flight ; 
 
 An' stay ae month amang the moons 
 
 An' see them right. 
 
 Guid observation they will gie them ; good give 
 An' when the auld moon's gaun to led 1 e s in gl 
 
 leave 
 
 them, 
 
 The hindmost shaird, they'll fetch it wi' them, shred 
 Just i' their pouch ; pocket 
 
 An' when the "new-light" billies see them, brethren 
 I think they'll crouch ! 
 
 *This stanza tells how the orthodox have been in the habit of persecuting 
 heretics, till the latter fled over the sea, and till the rulers of the State forbade 
 Buch bloody pranks. J. H.
 
 122 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785, 
 
 Sae, ye observe that a' this clatter so idle talk 
 Is naething but a ' ' moonshine matter ; ' ' 
 But tho' dull prose-folk Latin splatter 
 
 In logic tutyie, contention 
 
 I hope we bardies ken some better know 
 
 Than mind sic brulyie. 
 
 [At the date of this epistle, William Simson was parish 
 schoolmaster at the small village of Ochiltree, situated on the 
 left bank of the river Lugar, at a distance of five miles south 
 from the poet's farm. He appears to have introduced himself to 
 Burns by sending him a complimentary letter, after having seen 
 some of his poems in manuscript, particularly the ' ' Holy Tul- 
 3'ie," to which Burns' postscript specially applies. In 1788, Sim- 
 son was appointed parish teacher in the town of Cumnock, four 
 miles farther up the Lugar, where he continued till his death, in 
 1815. It does not appear from the poet's correspondence, or other- 
 wise, that the acquaintanceship betwixt Burns and Simson, thus so 
 auspiciously begun in 1785, was continued in after-life. He was 
 succeeded as teacher at Ochiltree in 1788 by a brother, Patrick 
 Simson, who had been formerly parish schoolmaster at Straiton, in 
 Carrick. A volume of rhyming-ware, left by William Simson, 
 passed at his death into his brother's possession, and, judging from 
 what has been published of its contents, he seems to have better 
 merited the distinction a "rhyme-composing brother" of Burns 
 than either Sillar or Lapraik. He had the good sense not to 
 rush into print like them, on the mere strength of the kindly com- 
 pliments paid to them by the Ayrshire Bard in his published 
 epistles. 
 
 After William Simson's death, his brother Patrick was often 
 visited at Ochiltree by wandering pilgrims, for the sake of the 
 interest conferred by this admired epistle. Allan Cunningham, 
 confounding the one brother with the other, makes reference to 
 William Simson as still surviving in 1834. Through the kind- 
 ness of the Rev. D. Hogg, Kirkmahoe, we have been shewn 
 "Winsome Willie's" signature, which is our authority for drop- 
 ping the letter p from his surname.]
 
 SJT. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 123 
 
 ONE NIGHT AS I DID WANDER. 
 
 A FRAGMENT. MAY, 1785. 
 
 (CROMEK, 1808.) 
 
 ONE night as I did wander, 
 
 When corn begins to shoot, oats 
 
 I sat me down to ponder, 
 
 Upon an auld tree-root : old 
 
 Anld Ayr ran by before me, 
 
 And bickered tO the SeaS ; careered cheerily 
 
 A cushat croodcd o'er me, wood-pigeon cooed 
 That echoed through the braes. 
 
 [This fragment seems to have been intended as the opening 
 of a poem similar in style to "Man was made to mourn." It 
 has a descriptive ring about it, like the first verse of the ' ' Hoi}' 
 Fair;" and the scenery indicated is not unlike that of Balloch- 
 myle or Barskirnming, the two nearest points where the poet 
 coiild reach the river Ayr from Mauchline. The fragment first 
 appeared in company with another little unfinished piece, in 
 which the poet contemplates crossing the ocean, and being 
 severed from his "Jean."*] 
 
 FRAGMENT OF SONG "MY JEAN !" 
 
 (JOHNSON'S MUSEUM, 1788.) 
 
 THO' cruel fate should bid us part, 
 Far as the pole and line, 
 
 * This and the three immediately following pieces are in the very peculiar 
 position, that, while they are inserted in the poet's Glenriddell abridgement of 
 his first Common-place Book, between the dates September, 1784, and June, 1785, 
 they do not appear in the Common-place Book itself, now preserved at Greenock. 
 On examining carefully the latter manuscript, one is forced to the conclusion 
 that these four pieces never at any time formed a portion of that book. Robert 
 Chambers, who never saw the Greenock MS. referred to, was stumbled at so 
 early a date as May, 1785, "being attached to these pieces, especially to the song 
 about 'My Jean,'" which, from internal evidence, would seem to belong to the 
 first half of 1786. However, as Burns himself inserted these as forming a por- 
 tion of his earliest Common-place Book, ending in October, 1785, we feel bound 
 to place them in the order of time to which he assigned them.
 
 124 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. 
 
 Her dear idea round my heart, 
 
 Should tenderly entwine. 
 Tho' mountains rise, and deserts howl, 
 
 And oceans roar between ; 
 Yet, dearer than my deathless soul, 
 
 I still would love my Jean. 
 
 [The affection for Jean Armour displayed here is quite in keep- 
 ing with the language and sentiment expressed in the "Epistle 
 to Davie." Indeed, on comparing these, the reader will naturally 
 conclude that they must have been composed about the same 
 date. In the one, we find the poet-lover thus expressing him- 
 self 
 
 " Her dear idea brings relief and solace to my breast ;" 
 and here he says, almost in the identical words 
 
 "Her dear idea round my heart shall tenderly entwine." 
 Again, in the " Epistle," he invokes heaven to witness that 
 
 " The life-blood streaming through my heart, 
 Or my more dear immortal part, 
 Is not more fondly dear." 
 
 And in this little song the first sketch of the world-famous " Of 
 a' the airts," &c. the same language is employed : 
 
 "Yet, dearer than my deathless soul, 
 I still would love my Jean." 
 
 The complete copy of the "Epistle to Davie," which the poet pre- 
 sented to Aiken in 1786, certainly bears the date "January, 1785," 
 as we have already noticed ; but we must not therefore conclude 
 (as Chambers does) that the whole of the poem was completed at 
 so early a date. The references to Jean are thrown in near the 
 close of the poem, and if it were now possible to get a sight of 
 the original, as actually forwarded to Sillar in January, 1785, it 
 would likely shew very different readings in the three closing 
 stanzas, from those in the printed copy. The early date assigned 
 to that poem was a puzzle to Lockhart, not only from its wonder- 
 ful perfection in so very intricate and difficult a measure, but also 
 from its glowing celebration of Jean during the very infancy of 
 his acquaintance with her.]
 
 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 125 
 
 SONG RANTIN, ROVIN ROBIN. 
 
 (CROMEK, 1808.) 
 
 THERE was a lad was born in Kyle,* 
 But whatna day o' whatna style, f 
 I doubt it's hardly worth the while 
 
 To be sae nice wi' Robin. 
 Chor. Robin was a rovin boy, 
 
 Rantin, rovin, rantin, rovin, 
 Robin was a rovin boy, 
 Rantin, rovin Robin ! 
 
 Our monarch's hindmost year but ane one 
 
 Was five-and-twenty days begun, \ 
 'Twas then a blast o' Jan war' win' 
 Blew hansel in on Robin. 
 
 Robin was, &c. 
 
 The gOSsip keekit in his loof, peered palm 
 
 Quo' scho, "Wha lives will see the proof, she 
 This waly boy will be nae coof: goodly blockhead 
 I think we'll ca 1 him Robin." can 
 
 Robin was, &c. 
 
 "He'll hae misfortunes great an' sma\ have small 
 But ay a heart aboon them #', ever above an 
 He'll be a credit till us a', to 
 
 We'll a' be proud o' Robin." 
 Robin was, &c. 
 
 * The central district of Ayrshire. See note on The Twa Dogs, p. 203. 
 
 t But which day of which style. The new style of computing time had been 
 lately introduced, and both styles were used at this time in Scotland. In cities 
 the new style was generally adopted, but people living in remote country dis- 
 tricts still adhered to the old style, as is the case in Russia to this day. J. H. 
 
 t January 25, 1759, the date of my hardship's vital existence. R. B. 
 
 A hansel is the first gift given on any particular occasion or at any particu. 
 lar season. J. H.
 
 126 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. 
 
 "But sure as three times three mak nine, 
 I see by ilka score and line, every 
 
 This chap will dearly like our kin', 
 So leeze me on* thee ! Robin." 
 Robin was, &c. 
 
 " Guid faith," quo' scho, "I doubt you, sir, 
 Ye gar the lasses lie aspar make 
 
 But twenty fauts ye may hae waur faults worse 
 So blessins on thee ! Robin." 
 Robin was, &c. 
 
 [Referring to our notes to the two preceding pieces, we may 
 observe that this song displays a vivid forecast of the author's 
 coming fame. Dr. Waddell, in the mistaken belief that it was 
 composed in 1784, calls it "a perfect prophetic and pictorial 
 idyll, which must be accepted as a very singular and truthful 
 anticipation of his own future greatness." 
 
 The only variation of the poet's text which we have to note 
 is first found in Cunningham's edition (1834). His reading of 
 the two opening lines of the closing stanza is as follows : 
 
 " Gude faith ! " quo' scho, " I doubt you gar 
 The bonie lassie lie aspar." 
 
 The reverend editor above quoted says on this point: "All 
 attempts to decorate or to enrich this verse with better rhymes 
 and worse sense, not only vitiate its moral integrity, but destroy 
 its pictorial truthfulness ; in a word, vulgarise and debase it. That 
 Cromek's edition is the correct edition, there cannot be a shadow 
 of a doubt ; and it should be restored and preserved accord- 
 ingly." 
 
 Burns composed this song to the tune of " Dainty Davie," 
 and he has anxiously pointed out that the chorus is set to the 
 low part of the melody. Templeton, the eminent vocalist, selected 
 another air ' ' O gin ye were dead, gudeman ' ' for his own sing- 
 ing of this song, which necessitated not only an alteration of the 
 words of the chorus to make it fit the music, but a change in 
 other parts of the air to suit it to the words. The tune, " Dainty 
 Davie," is one of our oldest ; it appears in Play ford's collection, 
 
 * Ieeze me on : '. e., let me set my heart on.
 
 . 27.] 
 
 POEMS AND SONGS. 
 
 127 
 
 1657 ; and as a proper vocal set of the melody is now nowhere to 
 be found, we here annex it. 
 
 CANTY. 
 
 There was a lad was born in Kyle, But what-na day o* what 
 
 na style, I doubt its hard-ly worth the while To be tae nice wi' 
 
 Ro - bin. Ro - bin was a ro vin boy, Ran - tin, rov - in, ran - tin. 
 
 j, 
 
 TTTJ' If I 
 
 In the MS. of early pieces presented by the poet to Mrs. 
 Dunlop, to which we have referred at pp. n and 33 supra, a 
 remarkable travestie of the foregoing song is inserted thus : 
 
 There was a birkie born in Kyle, 
 But whatna day o' whatna style, 
 I doubt its hardly worth the while 
 To be sae nice wi' Davie. 
 Ieeze me on thy curly pow, 
 Bonie Davie, dainty Davie ! 
 I<eeze me on thy curly pow, 
 Thou'se ay my dainty Davie. 
 
 The name "Davie," instead of Robin, is thus continued through- 
 out the song, and at verse 4, line 3, instead of "He'll be a credit 
 to us a'," we read, " He'll gie his daddie's name a blaw."] 
 
 (According to Chambers, there was some rumor, but upon no 
 very valid authority so far as he could learn, that some wayfaring 
 woman, who chanced to be present at the poet's birth, actually 
 announced some such prophecy respecting the infant placed in 
 her arms. J. H.)
 
 128 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. 
 
 ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF ROBERT RUIS- 
 
 SEAUX.* 
 
 (CROMEK, 1808.) 
 
 Now Robin lies in his last lair, resting-piace 
 
 He'll gabble rhyme, nor sing nae mair ; no more 
 Cauld poverty, wi' hungry stare, cold 
 
 Nae mair shall fear him ; 
 Nor anxious fear, nor cankert care, cankered 
 
 E'er mair come near him. 
 
 To tell the truth, they seldom fasttt him, trouble* 
 Except the moment that they crush' d him ; 
 For sune as chance or fate had hush't 'em soon 
 
 Tho' e'er sae short, 
 Then wi' a rhyme or sang he lash'd 'em, 
 
 And thought it sport 
 
 Tho' he was bred to kintra-wark, work on the farm 
 And counted was baith wight and stark^ou*. strong 
 Yet that was never Robin's mark 
 
 To mak a man ; make 
 
 But tell him, he was learn' d and dark, cierkiy 
 
 Ye rocs' d him than ! extolled 
 
 [We are greatly mistaken if Burns did not compose this 
 " Elegy " after he had issued his prospectus to publish the 
 wonderful Kilmarnock volume. It seems highly probable that it 
 was intended to occupy the last page of that volume, but with- 
 drawn when he had composed the far superior "Poet's Epitaph," 
 which so beautifully closes the work. 
 
 Until the original MS. shall be recovered, from which Cromek 
 printed, in the " Reliques," the poet's own abridged copy of his 
 first Common-place Book, the exact chronological position of the 
 preceding four pieces cannot be definitely fixed.] 
 
 * Fr. for rivulets, or burns, a play upon his own name.
 
 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 129 
 
 EPISTLE TO JOHN GOLDIE, IN KILMARNOCK, 
 
 AUTHOR OF THE GOSPEL RECOVERED. AUGUST, 1785. 
 (THE GLENRIDDEU, MSS., 1874.) 
 
 O GOWDIE, terror c? the whigs, of 
 
 Dread o' blackcoats and reverend wigs ! 
 Sour Bigotry on his last legs 
 
 Girns an' looks back, grins 
 
 Wishing the ten Egyptian plagues 
 
 May seize you quick. 
 
 Poor gapin, glowrin Superstition ! staring amazedly 
 
 IVae^s me, she's in a sad condition: woe is me 
 
 Fye ! bring Black Jock, * her state physician, 
 
 To see her water : 
 Alas, there's ground for great suspicion 
 
 She'll ne'er get better. 
 
 Enthusiasm's past redemption, 
 
 Gane in a gallopin consumption : far gone 
 
 Not #' her quacks, wi' a' their gumption, an smartness 
 
 Can ever mend her ; 
 Her feeble pulse gies strong presumption, gives 
 
 She'll soon surrender. 
 
 Auld Orthodoxy lang did grapple, grope about 
 
 For every hole to get a stapple /f stoppie 
 
 But now she fetches at the thrapple, gasps throat 
 
 An' fights for breath ; 
 Haste, gie her name up in the chapel, | 
 
 Near unto death. 
 
 The Rev. J. Russell, Kilmarnock. R. B. 
 
 t A handful of straw used to stop a hole in a thatched roof is called a stapple. 
 Orthodoxy long tried to stop all sources of error, and to repair all the injury 
 the church received through "New-Light" heresy. J. H. 
 
 t Get her prayed for in Mr. Russell's kirk (known as the chapel) as being at 
 the point of death. J. H. 
 
 I. 1
 
 130 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. 
 
 It's you an' Taylor* are the chief 
 
 To blame for a 1 this black mischief ;f 
 
 But could the L, d's ain folk get leave, own 
 
 A loom tar barrel empty 
 
 An' twa red peats wad bring relief, blazing turfs would 
 
 And end the quarrel. 
 
 For me, my skill's but very sma\ small 
 
 An' skill in prose I've nane ava ; none at an 
 
 But quietlenswise, between us twa, quietly 
 
 Weel may ye speed ! wen 
 
 And tho' they sud you sair miscd 1 , should sore miscaii 
 
 Ne'er fash your head. trouble 
 
 E'en swinge the dogs, and thresh them sicker! soundly 
 The mair they squeel ay chap the thicker ; more lay on 
 And still 'mang hands a hearty bicker beaker 
 
 O' something stout ; 
 It gars an owthor's pulse beat quicker, author's 
 
 And helps his wit. 
 
 There's naething like the honest nappy ; strongdrink 
 Whare'll ye e'er see men sae happy, where win so 
 Or women sonsie, saft and sappy, piump juicy 
 
 'Tween morn and morn, 
 As them wha like to taste the drappie, drop drink 
 
 In glass or horn?J 
 
 I've seen me daez*t upon a time, dazed 
 
 I scarce could wink or see a styme ; glimmer 
 
 Just ae hauf-mutchkiri 1 does me prime, two giiis 
 
 (Ought less, is little,) 
 Then back I rattle on the rhyme, 
 
 As gleg's a Whittle. sharp as knife 
 
 Dr. Taylor, of Norwich. .ff. B. 
 \ Mischief has accent on last syllable. J. H. 
 
 JAle was generally drunk from horn quaichs or wooden caups. Glass was 
 reserved for whisky. J. H.
 
 JET. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 131 
 
 [The person thus addressed was a noteworthy individual. His 
 father was the miller at Craigmill, on Cessnock water, in Galston 
 parish, where the future philosopher was born, in 1717. He 
 showed an early aptitude for science and mechanical skill, and 
 soon became an adept in geometry, architecture and astronomy. 
 While yet a young man, he removed to Kilmarnock, where he 
 carried on business, first as a cabinet-maker, and afterwards as an 
 extensive wine and spirit merchant ; but all his leisure time was 
 devoted to his favorite scientific pursuits and mechanical contriv- 
 ances. In his religious views he was originally orthodox, and 
 joined the Antiburgher congregation at Kilmaurs ; but before he 
 was fifty years old his opinions underwent a radical change. 
 These he carried much beyond the Arminianism of the New Light 
 party. In 1780 he published his opinions in three 8vo volumes, 
 printed at Glasgow, of which a second edition appeared in 1785. 
 These essays were extensively read, and the work was popularly 
 termed " Gowdie's Bible." 
 
 At the date of Burns' epistle to him, Goldie was 68 years old. 
 Whether the poet introduced himself by this means or had pre- 
 viously known him, it is impossible to tell ; but certain it is that 
 the bard relied much on Goldie's friendship and advice during his 
 visits to Kilmaruock while his poems were at the press. We hear 
 nothing of Goldie, however, in the poet's prose correspondence. 
 His son was Lieut. Goldie, R.N., who entered the navy in 1803. 
 The old gentleman himself survived to 1811. 
 
 This poem was first published in a very imperfect form in Stew- 
 art and Meikle's Tracts, 1799. There it has only five stanzas the 
 third and fourth being transposed, and the four concluding ones 
 entirely wanting. The two closing verses of the present complete 
 copy were published by Cromek in 1808, as a stray fragment found 
 in one of the poet's Common-place Books. Allan Cunningham 
 avers that he had seen a copy of the first Epistle to Lapraik, of 
 which they formed a part, and were introduced between the sixth 
 and seventh verses. This may be one of Allan's hap-hazard state- 
 ments. 
 
 The following variation on the fourth verse appears in the 
 Common-place Book, and is adopted by Chambers and Gilfillan : 
 
 But now she's got an unco ripple, 
 Haste, gie her name up i' the chapel 
 
 Nigh unto death ; 
 See how she fetches at the thrapple, 
 
 And gasps for breathj
 
 J32 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. 
 
 THIRD EPISTLE TO J. LAPRAIK. 
 
 (LAPRAIK'S POEMS, 1788.) 
 
 Guid speed and furder to you, Johnie, good prosperity 
 Guid health, hale hart's an' weather bonie ; who | e } 
 
 . . ' hands > 
 
 Now, when ye' re nickin down fu' cannie* 
 The staff" o' bread, f 
 
 May ye ne'er want a stoup o' bran'y flago 
 
 To clear your head. 
 
 May Boreas never thresh your rigs, \ 
 
 Nor kick your rickles aff their legs, ricks oft 
 
 Sendin the stuff" o'er muirs an' haggs mosses 
 
 Like drivin wrack ; 
 But may the tapmost grain that wags 
 
 Come to the sack. 
 
 I'm bizzie, tOO, an Skelpin at it, busy working briskly 
 
 But bitter, daudin showers hae wat it ; beating wet 
 Sae my auld stumpie pen I gat it old got 
 
 Wi' muckle wark, much work 
 An' took my jocteleg an' whatt it, cut or mended 
 
 Like ony dark. cierk 
 
 It's now twa month that I'm your debtor, two 
 For your braw, nameless, dateless letter, fine 
 
 Abusin me for harsh ill-nature 
 
 On holy men, 
 While deil a hair yoursel ye' re better, 
 
 But mair profane. 
 
 * Cutting down with quiet skill. 
 
 fA Bible term for "bread, the staff of life." 
 
 \ May the wind never thrash your ridges of ripe grain. This is a serious loss 
 to a farmer, as the best of the grain (the "tap-pickle") is the most liable to be 
 shaken out.- -J. H. 
 
 \ Knife, so-called after Jacques de Liege, the name of a Flemish cutler. Up to 
 the union of England and Scotland Flanders supplied Scotland with most of her 
 cutlery. J. H.
 
 T. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 133 
 
 But let the kirk-folk ring their bells, 
 
 Let's sing about our noble sePs: selves 
 
 We'll cry nae jads frae heathen hills goddesses from 
 
 To help, or roose us ; inspire 
 But browster wives an' whisky stills, brwer 
 
 They are the muses. 
 
 Your friendship, sir, I winna quat it, win not quit 
 
 An' if ye mak' objections at it, 
 
 Then hand in neive some day we'll knot it, fist 
 
 And witness take, 
 An' when wi' usquabae * we've wat it whiskey wet 
 
 It winna break. 
 
 But if the beast and branks be spar'd horse and bridle 
 
 Till kye be gaun without the herd,f June going 
 
 And a' the vittel in the yard, victual (cmp) 
 
 And theekit right, thatched 
 
 I mean your ingle-side to guard fireside 
 
 Ae winter night. one 
 
 Then muse-inspirin aquaviUe* 
 
 Shall mak' us baith sae blythe and witty, both cheerful 
 
 Till ye forget ye' re auld art gatty, old and paunchy 
 
 And be as canty merry 
 
 As ye were nine year less than thretty thirty 
 
 Sweet ane an' twenty ! 
 
 But stooks are cowpet wi' the blast, overturned 
 
 And now the sinn keeks in the west, sun peeps 
 
 Then I maun rin amang the rest, must 
 
 An' quat my chanter ; bagpipe 
 Sae I subscribe mysel in haste, 
 
 Yours, Rab the Ranter. 
 Sept. 13, 1785. 
 
 * From Gaelic uisgc-beatha, water of life. Usquebaugh is a form of the same 
 word, and whiskey is simply a corruption of uisge. Aquavitce is a Latin trans. 
 lation of usquebaugh. J. H. 
 
 t Till the crops are off the ground and cows can go unherded. J. H.
 
 1C4 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785 
 
 EPISTLE TO THE REV. JOHN M'MATH, 
 
 INCLOSING A COPY OF "HOLY WILLIE'S PRAYER," WHICH 
 HE HAD REQUESTED, SEPT. 17, 1785. 
 
 (CROMEK, 1808.) 
 
 sliock } 
 
 WHILE at the stook the shearers cow>r reapers crouch/ 
 To shun the bitter blaudin show'r, pelting 
 
 Or in gulravage rinnin scowr ; joyous mischief running 
 
 To pass the time, 
 To you I dedicate the hour 
 
 In idle rhyme. 
 
 My music, tir'd wi' mony a sonnet 
 On gown, an' ban\ an' douse black band grava 
 bonnet, * cap 
 
 Is grown right eerie now she's done it, sore afraid 
 
 Lest they shou'd blame her. 
 An' rouse their holy thunder on it 
 
 And anathem her. 
 
 I own 'twas rash, an' rather hardy, 
 
 That I a simple, country bardie, bard 
 
 Shou'd meddle wi' a pack sae sturdy, 
 
 Wha, if they ken me,f 
 Can easy, wi' a single wordie, 
 
 Louse h 11 upon me. loose 
 
 But I gae mad at their grimaces, g 
 
 Their sighin, cantin, grace-proud faces, 
 Their three-mile prayers, an' hauf-mile graces, 
 
 Their raxin conscience, elastic 
 
 Whase greed, revenge, and pride disgraces 
 
 Waur nor their nonsense, worse than 
 
 * Tired of satirizing the clergy. J. H. 
 t Know me to be the author. J. H.
 
 . 2 7] POEMS AND SONGS. 135 
 
 There's Gaw'n,* misca'd waur than a beast, miscalled l 
 
 Wha has mair honor in his breast 
 
 Than many scores as guicTs the priest many good as 
 
 Wha sae abused him : who so 
 
 And may a bard no crack his jest 
 
 What way they've used him? the way 
 
 See him, the poor man's friend in need, f 
 The gentleman in word an' deed 
 An* shall his fame an' honor bleed 
 
 By worthless skellums, scaiiowags 
 An' not a muse erect her head 
 
 To COW6 the blellums f awe blusterers 
 
 O Pope, had I thy satire's darts 
 
 To gie the rascals their deserts, give 
 
 I'd rip their rotten, hollow hearts, 
 
 An' tell aloud 
 Their jugglin hocus-pocus arts 
 
 To cheat the crowd. 
 
 God knows, I'm no the thing I shou'd be, 
 Nor am I even the thing I cou'd be, 
 But twenty times I rather would be 
 
 An atheist clean, 
 Than under gospel colors hid be 
 
 Just for a screen. 
 
 An honest man may like a glass, love 
 
 An honest man may like a lass, 
 
 But mean revenge, an' malice fause false 
 
 He'll still disdain, 
 An' then cry zeal for gospel laws, 
 
 Like some we ken. know 
 
 * Gavin Hamilton. 
 
 f-This couplet was afterwards repeated, in the Dedication to Gavin Hamilton.
 
 136 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. 
 
 They take religion in their mouth ; 
 
 They talk o' mercy, grace, an' truth, 
 
 For what? to gie their malice skouth scope 
 
 On some puir wight, poor feiiow 
 
 An' hunt him down, owre right and ruth, over 
 
 To ruin streicht. straight 
 
 All hail, Religion ! maid divine ! 
 
 Pardon a muse sae mean as mine, so 
 
 Who in her rough imperfect line 
 
 Thus daurs to name thee ; dares 
 To stigmatise false friends of thine 
 
 Can ne'er defame thee. 
 
 Tho' blotch' t and foul wi' many a stain, many 
 
 An' far unworthy of thy train, 
 
 With trembling voice I tune my strain 
 
 To join with those 
 Who boldly dare thy cause maintain 
 
 In spite of foes : 
 
 In spite o' crowds, in spite o' mobs, 
 In spite o' undermining jobs, 
 In spite o' dark banditti stabs 
 
 At worth an' merit, 
 By scoundrels, even wi' holy robes, 
 
 But hellish spirit. 
 
 O Ayr ! my dear, my native ground, 
 Within thy presbyterial bound 
 A candid liberal band is found 
 
 Of public teachers, 
 As men, as Christians too, renown' d, 
 
 An' manly preachers. 
 
 Sir, in that circle you are nam'd ; 
 Sir, in that circle you are fam'd;
 
 a}T. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 137 
 
 An' some, by whom your doctrine's blam'd 
 
 (Which gies ye honor) gives 
 
 Even, sir, by them your heart's esteem' d, 
 An' winning manner. 
 
 Pardon this freedom I have tcfen^ taken 
 
 An' if impertinent I've been, 
 
 Impute it not, good sir, in ane one 
 
 Whase heart ne'er wrang'd ye, whose 
 But to his utmost would befriend 
 
 Ought that belang*dye. related to you 
 
 [The gentleman to whom the above epistle is addressed was 
 assistant and successor to the Rev. Peter Wodrow, minister of 
 Tarbolton, then in declining health through the infirmities of old 
 age. "Auld Wodrow," and his young helper, M'Math, are both 
 complimented in "The Twa Herds," as able preachers, of the 
 liberal or "moderate" stamp. In course of years, Mr. M'Math 
 fell into a morbid condition of mind, and eventually took to hard 
 drinking, and died in the Isle of Mull, in 1825. 
 
 The two preceding epistles, dated within a few days of each 
 other, specially refer to the bad harvest of 1785, which tended to 
 discourage the poet at his farming, and perhaps to drive him to 
 the muse for consolation. The signature to the first of these 
 is a sobriquet borrowed from the popular song of " Maggie 
 Lauder." Chambers tells us that in writing poems, such as the 
 above, reflecting on the religious party to which he was opposed, 
 Burns set at naught the earnest remonstrances of both his mother 
 and his brother. J. H.] 
 
 SECOND EPISTLE TO DAVIE, 
 
 A BROTHER POET. 
 (SHEAR'S POEMS, 1789.) 
 
 A ULD NEIBOR, Old Neighbor 
 
 I'm three times doubly o'er your debtor, 
 
 For your auld-f arrant, frien'ly letter; droiiy cunning 
 
 Tho' I maun say't, I doubt ye flatter, must 
 
 Ye speak sae fair ; so 
 
 For my puir, silly, rhymin clatter poor tattle 
 
 Some less maun sair, must serve
 
 136 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. 
 
 Hale be your heart, hale be your fiddle, sound 
 
 Lang may your elbuckjink an 1 diddle, elbow move merrily 
 To cheer you thro' the weary widdle maze 
 
 O' warily cares ; worldly 
 
 Till bairns' bairns kindly cuddle children ' s <*iidn > 
 
 * fondle j 
 
 Your auld, grey hairs.* 
 
 But Davie, lad, /' m rede ye're glaikit; i fear thoughtless 
 I'm tauld the muse ye hae negleckit ; toid have 
 An' ^^"it's sae, ye sud be licket if should 
 
 Until ye fyke ; wince 
 
 Sic hauns as you sud ne'er be faiket, should ex h c ^} 
 
 Be hain't wha like. spa red 
 
 For me, I'm on Parnassus' brink, 
 
 ' ' tearing make) 
 
 Rivtn the words to gar them clink ; rhyme/ 
 
 Whyles daez*t wi' love, whyles daez't sometimes dazed 
 wi' drink, 
 
 Wi' jads or masons^: wenches > 
 
 i i 1 free-masons/ 
 
 An' whyles, but ay owre late, I think too 
 
 Braw sober lessons. fine 
 
 Of a' the thoughtless sons o 1 man, aii of 
 
 Commen' me to the bardie dan ; poet class 
 
 Except it be some idle plan 
 
 O' rhymin clink, 
 The Aevi\-haet that I sud ban a whit should swear 
 
 They ever think. 
 
 Nae thought, nae view, nae scheme o' livin, no 
 Nae cares to gie us joy or grievin, give 
 
 But just the pouchie put the nieve in, pocket hand 
 
 An' while ought's there, helter . 
 Then, kiltie s kiltie, we gae scrievin, skelter careering/ 
 
 An' fash nae mair. trouble no more 
 
 This verse was repeated almost verbatim in the Epistle to Major Logan, 
 t Burns was at this time an ardent Free-Mason. J. H.
 
 flST. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 139 
 
 Leeze me on rhyme ! it's ay a treasure, commend me to 
 My chief, amaist my only pleasure ; almost 
 
 At hame, a-jiel\ at wark, or leisure, afield 
 
 The muse, poor hizzie / hussy 
 Tho' rough an' raploch be her measure, coarse 
 
 She's seldom lazy. 
 
 Hand to the muse, my dainty Davie : hold 
 
 The warP may play you mony a shavie; ^orid-v 
 But for the muse, she'll never leave ye, trick I 
 
 Tho' e'er sae puir, poor 
 
 Na, even tho' limpin wi 1 the spavie not with spavin 
 
 Frae door to door. from 
 
 [If David Sillar, then a grocer in Irvine, neglected the muses at the 
 date of this epistle (supposed to be about October, 1785), he was soon 
 stimulated to exertion by the success of Burns' first publication, and 
 induced to imitate him, so far as could be done, by typography and 
 stationery. This epistle of Burns he introduced in the early pages of 
 his book ; but, in truth, it was the only valuable thing in the volume. 
 Davie played on the violin a little : hence the reference in the second 
 stanza.] 
 
 SONG YOUNG PEGGY BLOOMS. 
 
 (JOHNSON'S MUSEUM, 1787.) 
 
 YOUNG Peggy blooms our boniest lass, 
 
 Her blush is like the morning, 
 The rosy dawn, the springing grass, 
 
 With early gems adorning. 
 Her eyes outshine the radiant beams 
 
 That gild the passing shower, 
 And glitter o'er the crystal streams, 
 
 And cheer each fresh' ning flower. 
 
 Her lips, more than the cherries bright, 
 A richer dye has graced them ; 
 
 They charm th' admiring gazer's sight, 
 And sweetly tempt to taste them ;
 
 140 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. 
 
 Her smile is as the evening mild, 
 When feather' d pairs are courting-, 
 
 And little lambkins wanton wild, 
 In playful bands disporting. 
 
 Were Fortune lovely Peggy's foe, 
 
 Such sweetness would relent her ; 
 As blooming Spring unbends the brow 
 
 Of surly, savage Winter. 
 Detraction's eye no aim can gain, 
 
 Her winning powers to lessen ; 
 And fretful Envy grins in vaiu 
 
 The poison' d tooth to fasten. 
 
 Ye Pow'rs of Honor, Love, and Truth, 
 
 From ev'ry ill defend her ! 
 Inspire the highly-favor'd youth 
 
 The destinies intend her : 
 Still fan the sweet connubial flame 
 
 Reponsive in each bosom ; 
 And bless the dear parental name 
 
 With many a filial blossom. 
 
 [Burns seems to have taken considerable pains with this fine 
 composition, which, though highly finished, is somewhat too arti- 
 ficial to have been a spontaneous outburst of personal passion. 
 The subject of it was Miss Peggy Kennedy, the daughter of a 
 Carrick laird, and a relative of Mrs. Gavin Hamilton. The poet 
 was introduced to her when she was on a visit to the Hamiltons. 
 She was then a blooming young woman of seventeen, and was 
 understood to be betrothed to McDowall, of Logan, the youthful 
 representative of the oldest and richest family in Galloway ; but, 
 according to Chambers, "a train of circumstances lay in her path, 
 which eventually caused the loss of her good name, and her 
 early death." We shall again have occasion to refer to this lady 
 as the supposed subject of another piece by Burns, " Fragment 
 on Sensibility." The poet enclosed the present verses to Miss 
 Kennedy in a letter, concluding thus: "That the arrows of mis- 
 fortune may never reach your heart that the snares of villany 
 may never beset you in the road of life that INNOCENCE may 
 hand you by the path of HONOR to the dwelling of PEACE, is the 
 sincere wish of him who has the honor to be," &c.]
 
 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 141 
 
 SONG FAREWEU, TO BALLOCHMYLE. 
 
 (JOHNSON'S MUSEUM, 1790.) 
 
 THE Catrine woods were yellow seen, 
 
 The flowers decay 'd on Catrine lee, ia 
 
 Nae laverock sang on hillock green, lark 
 
 But nature sicken' d on the e^e. eye 
 Thro' faded groves Maria sang, 
 
 Her set in beauty's bloom the while; herself 
 
 And ay the wild-wood echoes rang, ever 
 
 Fareweel the braes o' Ballochmyle ! steep banks 
 
 Low in your wintry beds, ye flowers, 
 
 Again ye' 11 flourish fresh and fair ; 
 Ye birdies * dumb, in with' ring bowers, 
 
 Again ye' 11 charm the vocal air. 
 But here, alas ! for me nae mair 
 
 Shall birdie charm, or floweret smile ; 
 Fareweel the bonie banks of Ayr, 
 
 Fareweel, fareweel ! sweet Ballochmyle ! 
 
 [This beautiful lyric was composed about the same time as the 
 preceding song. Ballochmyle had long been the property of the 
 Whitefoord family ; but, about this period, Sir John Whitefoord's 
 misfortunes, arising chiefly through his connections with the Ayr 
 Bank, obliged him to sell his estates. The "Maria" of this song 
 was Miss Whitefoord, who afterwards became Mrs. Cranstoun. The 
 "Catrine Woods," and "Catrine Lea," are in the immediate neigh- 
 borhood of Ballochmyle, and were then the property of Professor 
 Dugald Stewart. The fine scenery there is at the distance of about 
 two miles from Mauchline, and was a favorite haunt of Burns 
 While he lived at Mossgiel.] 
 
 * Burns makes frequent use of the Scotch diminutive in it with fine effect. J. H.
 
 142 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. 
 
 FRAGMENT HER FLOWING LOCKS. 
 (CROMEK, 1808.) 
 
 HER flowing locks, the raven's wing, 
 Adown her neck and bosom king ; hang 
 
 How sweet unto that breast to cling, 
 And round that neck entwine her 1 
 
 Her lips are roses wat wi' dew, wet 
 
 O, what a feast, her bonie mou \ mouth 
 
 Her cheeks a mair celestial hue, more 
 A crimson still diviner! 
 
 [This little " artist's sketch " ot female loveliness has no certain 
 history attached to it. Cunningham connects it with a Mauchline 
 incident ; and, if he is right in that respect, it seems probable 
 that our poet intended it as a portrait of Miss Whitefoord.] 
 
 HALLOWEEN.* 
 
 [KII.MARNOC.K ED., 1786.] 
 
 The following poem will, by many readers, be well enough 
 understood ; but for the sake of those who are unacquainted 
 with the manners and traditions of the country where the 
 scene is cast, notes are added, to give some account of the 
 principal charms and spells of that night, so big with prophecy 
 to the peasantry in the west of Scotland. The passion of pry- 
 ing into futurity makes a striking part of the history of human 
 nature in its rude state, in all ages and nations ; and it may 
 be some entertainment to a philosophic mind, if any such 
 honor the author with a perusal, to see the remains of it 
 among the more enlightened in our own. R. B. 
 
 * (All Hallow Eve or the eve of All Saints' Day) is thought to be a night when 
 witches, devils, and other mischief-making beings are all abroad on their bane 
 ful, midnight errands ; particularly those aerial people, the fairies, are said, o* 
 that night, to hold a grand anniversary. R. B.
 
 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 143 
 
 "Yes! let the rich deride, the proud disdain, 
 The simple pleasures of the lowly train ; 
 To me more dear, congenial to my heart, 
 One native charm, than all the gloss of art." 
 
 GOLDSMITH. 
 
 UPON that night, when fairies light 
 
 On Cassilis Downans * dance, 
 Or owre the lays, in splendid blaze, over leas 
 
 On sprightly coursers prance ; 
 Or for Colean the rout is ta'en, 
 
 Beneath the moon's pale beams ; 
 There, up the Cove,f to stray an' rove, 
 
 Amang the rocks and streams 
 
 To sport that night: 
 
 Amang the bonie winding banks, 
 
 Where Doon rins, wimplin, clear ; runs meandering 
 Where Bruce J ance ruled the martial ranks, once 
 
 An' shook his Carrick spear ; 
 Some merry, friendly, country-folks 
 
 Together did convene, 
 To burn their nits, an' pou their stocks. nuts P UU i 
 
 A > / j A t_ TT 11 kale-stalks r 
 
 An' hand their Halloween hold 
 
 Ftf blythe that night full merry 
 
 The lasses feat, an' cleanly neat, trim 
 
 Mair braw than when they're fine ; more attractive 
 
 Their faces blythe, fu' sweetly kythe, appear 
 
 Hearts leal, an' warm, an' kid : loyai kind 
 
 * Certain little, romantic, rocky, green hills, in the neighborhood of the ancient 
 Beat of the Earls of Cassilis.^. B. 
 
 t A noted cavern near Colean House, called the Cove of Colean ; which, as well 
 as Cassilis Downans, is famed, in the country, for being a favorite haunt of the 
 fairies. R. B. 
 
 \ The famous family of that name, the ancestor of ROBERT, the great deliverer 
 of his country, were Earls of Carrick. R. B. Carrick is the most southern o| 
 the three divisions of Ayrshire, which are Cunningham, Kyle and Carrick.
 
 144 POEMS AND SONGS. ^785. 
 
 The lads sae trig, wi' wooer-babs sprue* love-knots 
 
 Weel-knotted on their garten ; gartei 
 
 Some unco blate, an' some wi' gabs e * ce( ^ingiy shy^ 
 
 _ , , ' *. chatter/ 
 
 Gar lasses hearts gang startin make go beating 
 Whyles fast at night. sometimes 
 
 Then, first an' foremost, thro' the kail, greens 
 
 Their ' stocks ' * maun a' be sought ance ; must 
 
 They steek their een, an' grape an' shut ey es grope 
 
 Wale choose 
 
 For muckle anes, an' straught anes, large straight 
 Poor hatfrel Will fell aff the drift, half -^ed| 
 
 J went all wrong) 
 
 An' wandered thro' the ' bow-kail, f 
 
 An' pou 1 1, for want o' better shift, puiied 
 
 A runt, was like a sow-tail stalk 
 
 Sae bow^t that night crooked 
 
 Then, straught or crooked, yird or straight earth 
 
 nane, none 
 
 They roar an' cry a' throw* ther ; confusedly 
 
 *rw T- r,,. children run) 
 
 The vera wee-thtngs, toddhn, rin, totteringiy) 
 
 Wi' stocks out owre their stalks over 
 
 shouther : shoulder 
 
 An' p7/"the customs sweet or sour, whether) 
 
 ~ J . ' heart of the stalk) 
 
 Wi joctelegs J they taste them ; ciasp-knives 
 
 Syne cozily, aboon the door, snugiy above 
 
 * The first ceremony of Halloween is, pulling each a " stock," or plant of kail 
 They must go out, hand in hand, with eyes shut, and pull the first they meet 
 with : its being big or little, straight or crooked, is prophetic of the size and 
 shape of the grand object of all their spells the husband or wife. If any "yird," 
 or earth, stick to the root, that is " tocher," or fortune ; and the taste of the 
 "custoc," that is, the heart of the stem, is indicative of the natural temper and 
 disposition. Lastly, the stems, or, to give them their proper appellation, the 
 'runts," are placed somewhere above the head of the door: and the Christian 
 names of people whom chance brings into the house are, according to the prior- 
 ity of placing the "runts," the names in question. R. B. 
 
 t Cabbage. The cabbage-stalk is a miserable make-shift for the legitimate 
 kale-runt. None but a poor "hav'rel" like Willie would ever draw a cabbage 
 for a kale. This is another of Burns' inimitable minute touches of humor. 
 J. H. 
 
 J See note on p. 133.
 
 air. 27.] 
 
 POEMS AND SONGS. 
 
 145 
 
 Wi' cannie care, they've plac'd them 
 To lie that night.* 
 
 cunning 
 
 The lasses staw frae 'mang them a',f 
 
 To POU their stalks o' corn ; J pun 
 
 But Rab slips out, an' jinks about, dodges 
 
 Behint the muckle thorn : large 
 
 He grippet Nelly hard an' fast ; caught 
 
 Loud skirPd a' the lasses ; screamed 
 
 But her tap-pickle maist was lost, nearly 
 
 Whan kiutlin in the ' fause-house ' || fondling 
 Wi' him that night 
 
 The auld guid-wife 1 s weel-hoordit 
 nits** 
 
 Are round an' round divided, 
 An' mony lads' an' lasses' fates 
 
 Are there that night decided : 
 Some kindle coiithie, side by side, 
 
 An' burn thegither trimly ; 
 Some start awa wi' saucy pride, 
 
 An' jump out owre the chimlie 
 
 Fu' high that night 
 
 old mistress' \ 
 well-hoarded i 
 
 kmngly 
 together 
 
 chimney 
 
 * They must be placed with such care that it can be easily distinguished under 
 whose " runt" each particular entrant next morning passes J. H. 
 
 tThe girls stole out from amongst them all. 
 
 J They go to the barnyard, and pull each, at three several times, a stalk of 
 oats. If the third stalk wants the "top-pickle," that is, the grain at the top of 
 the stalk, the party in question will come to the marriage-bed anything but a 
 maid. R. B. 
 
 \ Maidenhood. The " tap-pickle " is the most valuable grain of the ear. 
 
 | When the corn is in a doubtful state, by being too green or wet, the stack- 
 builder, by means of old timber, etc., makes a large apartment in his stack, with 
 an opening in the side which is fairest exposed to the wind : this he calls a 
 "fause-house." R. B. 
 
 ** Burning the nuts is a favorite charm. They name the lad and lass to eacn 
 particular nut, as they lay them in the fire ; and according as they burn quietly 
 together, or start from beside one another, the course and issue of the courtship 
 will be./?. B.
 
 146 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. 
 
 Jean slips in twa, wi' tentie e*e; watchful eye 
 
 Wha 'twas, she wadna tell ; would not 
 
 But this is Jock, an' this is me, jack 
 
 She says in to her set : to herself 
 He bleez'd owre her, an' she owre him, blazed over 
 
 As they wad never mair part ; would more 
 
 Till fuff! he started up the lum, chimney 
 
 And Jean had e'en a sair heart ore 
 To see't that night 
 
 Poor Willie, wi' his bow- kail runt, cabbage-stock 
 
 Was brunt wi' primsie Mallie ; pwdbkHtay} 
 An' Mary, nae doubt, took the drunt, pet 
 
 To be compar'd to Willie : 
 Mall's nit lap out, wi' pridefu' fling leapt 
 
 An' her ain Jit, it brunt it ; own foot burned 
 While Willie lap, an' swoor by 'jing,' swore 
 
 'Twas just the way he wanted 
 To be that night. 
 
 Nell had the c fause-house ' in her min', 
 
 She pits hersel an' Rob in ; puts herseii 
 
 In loving bleeze they sweetly join, biaze 
 
 Till white in ase they're sobbin : ashea 
 
 Nell's heart was dancin at the view; 
 
 She whisper' d Rob to leuk for't: look 
 
 Rob, stowlins, prie'd her bonie stealthily tasted 
 
 mOU, mouth 
 
 Fu 1 cozie in the neuk for't, enugiy nook 
 
 Unseen that night. 
 
 But Merran sat behint their backs, Marion 
 
 Her thoughts on Andrew Bell ; 
 She lea'es them gashin at their cracks,* 
 
 An* slips out by hersel : 
 
 She leaves them busily engaged in their gossip.
 
 ^T. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 147 
 
 She thro' the yard the nearest taks. takes the \ 
 
 . , - , , , ., shortest way > 
 
 An' for the kiln she goes then, 
 An' darklins grapet for the ' banks ,' groped raftem 
 And in the 'blue-clue'* throws then, 
 
 Right fear*t that night. afraid 
 
 An' ay she wirtt, an' ay she swat, wound perspired 
 
 I wat she made nae jaukin; wot delay 
 
 Till something held within the pat, pot 
 
 Guid L d ! but she was quaukin ! 
 But whether 'twas the deil himsel, 
 
 Or whether 'twas a bank-erf, end of a rafter 
 
 Or whether it was Andrew Bell, 
 
 She did na wait on talkin not 
 
 TO Spier that night. enquire 
 
 Wee Jenny to her graunie says, grand-dam 
 
 "Will ye go wi" 1 me, graunie? with 
 
 I'll eat the apple at the glass, f 
 
 I gat frae uncle Johnie : " from 
 
 She fufTt her pipe wi } sic a lunt,% puffed i 
 
 J M r c . h with such fury* 
 
 In wrath she was sae vap'nn, vaporing 
 
 She notic't na an aizle brunt burning cinder 
 
 Her braw, new, worset apron worsted 
 
 Out thrc? that night. thr ugh * nd | 
 
 through ) 
 
 "Ye little skelpie-limmer's-face ! 
 
 I daur you try sic sportin, dare 
 
 * Whoever would, with success, try this spell, must strictly observe these direc- 
 tions : Steal out, all alone, to the kiln, and, darkling, throw into the "pot" a 
 clue of blue yarn ; wind it in a new clue off the old one : and, towards the latter 
 end, something will hold the thread : demand, " Wha hauds?" x. e., who holds? 
 and answer will be returned from the kiln-pot by naming the Christian and sur- 
 name of your future spouse. R. B. 
 
 t Take a candle and go alone to a looking-glass ; eat an apple before it, and 
 some traditions say, you should comb your hair all the time ; the face of your 
 conjugal companion, to be, will be seen in the glass, as if peeping over your 
 shoulder./?. B. 
 
 \ She puffed her pipe with such fury that she made its contents red hot, and 
 n ember fell out and burned a hole in her apron. J. H. 
 
 JA technical term in female scolding. .tf. B.
 
 148 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. 
 
 As seek the foul thief ony place, d 
 
 For him to spae your fortune : foretell 
 
 Nae doubt but ye may get a sight ! see something, 
 
 . "uncanny" j 
 
 Great cause ye hae to fear it ; have 
 For mony a ane has gotten a fright, 
 
 An' liv'd an' died deleeret, deimou* 
 
 On sic a night. ucb 
 
 "Ae hairst afore the Sherra-moor, * harvest 
 
 I mind't as weel's yestreen yester-eve 
 
 I was a gilpey then, I'm sure young hussy 
 
 I was na past fyfteen : not 
 
 The simmer had been cauld art wat, cold and wet 
 
 An' Stuff Was UnCO* green ; crops uncommonly 
 
 An' ay a rantin kirn We gat, merry harvest-home got 
 
 An' just on Halloween 
 
 It fell that night 
 
 " Our ' stibble-riz ' was Rab M'Graen, leader of the i 
 
 reapers / 
 
 A clever, sturdy fallow ; feiiow 
 
 His sin gat Eppie Sim wi' wean, son Eispeth child 
 
 That liv'd in Achmacalla : 
 He gat hemp-seed, f I mind it weel, 
 
 An' he made unco light o't ; wry 
 
 But mony a day was by himsel, many out of his mind 
 
 He was sae sairly frighted so 
 
 That vera night." 
 
 * The battle of Sheriffinuir was fought between the Jacobite clans, led by the 
 Earl of Mar, and the Royalists, led by Argyle, in 1715, on the northern slope of 
 the Ochil hills, near Dunblane. J. H. 
 
 t Steal out, unperceived, and sow a handful of hemp-seed, harrowing it with 
 anything you can conveniently draw after you. Repeat, now and then" Hemp- 
 seed I saw thee, hemp-seed I saw thee ; and him (or her) that is to be my true 
 love, come after me and pou thee." Look over your left shoulder, and you will 
 see the appearance of the person invoked, in the attitude of pulling hemp. Some 
 traditions say, "Come after me and shaw thee," that is, show thyself; in which 
 case it simply appears. Others omit the harrowing, and say, "Come after mo 
 and harrow thee." R. B.
 
 ?] POEMS AND SONGS. 149 
 
 Then up gat fechtin Jamie Fleck, fighting 
 
 An' he swoor by his conscience, swore 
 
 That he could saw hemp-seed a peck ; 
 
 For it was a' but nonsense : 
 The auld guidman r aught down the pock, reached / 
 
 An' out a handfu' gied him ; gave 
 
 Syne bad him slip frae 'mang the folk, then from 
 
 Sometime when nae ane see'd him, observed 
 An' try't that night. 
 
 He marches thro' amang the stacks, oat-stacks 
 
 Tho' he was something sturtin ; nervous 
 
 The graip he for a harrow taks, three-pronged-fork 
 
 An' kauris at his curpin : drags rear 
 
 And ev'ry now an' then, he says, 
 
 " Hemp-seed I saw thee, *>* 
 
 An' her that is to be my lass 
 
 Come after me, an' draw thee 
 As fast this night" 
 
 He whistl'd up ' Lord Lenox' March,** 
 
 To keep his courage cheery ; 
 Altho' his hair began to arch, 
 
 He was sae fley^ d an' eerie : frightened dismal 
 Till presently he hears a squeak, 
 
 An' then a grane an' gruntle ; groan grunt 
 He by his shouther gae a keek, over gave a peep 
 
 An' tumbled wi' a wtntle reel 
 
 Out-owre that night right over 
 
 He roar'd a horrid murder-shout, 
 
 In dreadfu' desperation ! 
 An' young an' auld come rinnin out, running 
 
 An' hear the sad narration : 
 
 * A popular Scotch tune.
 
 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. 
 
 He swoor 'twas hilchin Jean M' Craw, swore limping 
 Or crouchie Merran Humphie crook-backed Marion 
 
 Till stop ! she trotted thro' them a' ; 
 
 An' wha was it but grumphie the pig 
 
 Aileer that night? stirring 
 
 Meg fain wad to the barn gaen. Mar K aret would ^ 
 
 2. . have gone j 
 
 To wtnn three wechts o' naethmg ; * winnow 
 But for to meet the deil her lane, by herself 
 
 She Pat but little faith in : had not much heart for 
 
 She gies the herd a pickle nits, cow-herd few 
 
 An' twa red cheekit apples, two 
 
 To watch, while for the barn she sets, 
 
 In hopes to see Tarn Kipples T O 
 
 That vera night 
 
 She turns the key wi' cannie thraw, cautious twist 
 An' owre the threshold ventures : ov 
 
 / 
 
 But first on Sawnie gies a ca\ Alexander can 
 
 Syne bauldly in she enters : boidiy 
 
 A ration rattl'd up the wa\ rat wall 
 An' she cry'd, L d preserve her ! 
 
 An' ran thro' midden-hole an' a', dung-pit 
 An' pray'd wi' zeal and fervor, 
 
 Fu* fast that night fuu 
 
 They hoy*t out Will, wi' sair advice ; *_* 
 They hecht him some fine braw 
 
 * This charm must likewise be performed unperceived and alone. You go to 
 the barn, and open both doors, taking them off the hinges, if possible ; for there 
 is danger that the being about to appear may shut the doors, and do you some 
 mischief. Then take that instrument used in winnowing the corn, which in our 
 country dialect we call a " wee 1 '!," and go through all the attitudes of letting 
 down corn against the wind. Repeat it three times, and the third time an 
 apparition will pass through the barn, in at the windy door, and out at the other, 
 having both the figure in question, and the appearance or retinue, marking the 
 employment or station in life. Jf. B. (A wecht is like a riddle, only having 
 leather in place of wire. A small wecht resembles c drum-head. J. H.)
 
 2 7 .] 
 
 151 
 
 It chanc'd the stack he f addon? 7 thrice,* fathomed 
 
 Was timmer-propt for thrawin : f 
 He taks a swirlie auld moss-oak crooked 
 
 For some black, grousome carlin ; ugly old woman 
 An' loot a winze, an' drew a stroke, JJJU^JIJ 
 
 Till skin in btypes cam haurlin large pieces ' stripping 
 Aff>s nieves that night, 
 
 A wanton widow Leezie was, Elizabeth 
 
 As cantie as a kittlen ; playful kitten 
 
 But och ! that night, amang the shaws, trees 
 She gat a fearfu' settlin ! setting down 
 
 She thro' the whins, an' by the cairn, heap of stones 
 An' owre the hill gaed scrievin ; careering 
 
 Whare three lairds 1 laris met at a land-owners- > 
 
 estates > 
 
 burn,| 
 
 To dip her left sark-sleeve in, shirt-sleeve 
 
 Was bent that night. 
 
 . . . sometimes ) 
 
 Whyles owre a hnn the burnie plays, cascade/ 
 
 As thro' the glen it 
 
 Whyles round a rocky scaur it strays, 
 Whyles in a wiel it dimpl't ; 
 
 Whyles glitter' d to the nightly rays, 
 Wi' bickerin, dancin dazzle ; 
 
 Whyles cookit\ underneath the braes, 
 Below the spreading hazle 
 
 Unseen that night. 
 
 meandered 
 
 <ddy 
 
 hu.ying 
 coquetted 
 
 Take an opportunity of going unnoticed to a "bear-stack," and fathom it 
 three times round. The last fathom of the last time, you will catch in your 
 arms the appearance of your future conjugal yoke-fellow. R. B. 
 
 t Propped up by timber to keep it erect, or from throwing. J. H. 
 
 t You go out, one or more (for this is a social spell), to a south running spring, 
 or rivulet, where "three lairds' lands meet," and dip your left shirt-sleeve. Go 
 to bed in sight of a fire, and hang your wet sleeve before it to dry. Lie awake, 
 and, some time near midnight, an apparition, having the exact figure of the 
 grand object in question, will come and turn the sleeve, as if to dry the other side 
 of it. R. B.
 
 152 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. 
 
 Amang the brachens, on the brae, ferns knon 
 
 Between her an' the moon, 
 
 The deil, or else an outler quey, outlying heifer 
 
 Gat up an' ga?e a croon: gave low 
 
 Poor Leezie's heart maist lap the leapt from i 
 
 its case > 
 
 hoot; 
 Near lav* rock-height she jumpet, lark-high 
 
 But mist a fit, an 1 in the pool missed a foot and 
 
 Out-owre the lugs she plumpet, can 
 
 Wi' a plunge that night. 
 
 In order, on the clean hearth-stane, 
 
 The ' luggies ' * three are ranged ; 
 An' ev'ry time great care is to? en taken 
 
 To see them duly changed : 
 Auld uncle John, wha wedlock's joys old who 
 
 Sin' ' Mar's-year' f did desire, 
 Because he gat the toom dish thrice, empty 
 
 He heav'd them on the fire, 
 
 In wrath that night 
 
 Wi' merry sangs, an' friendly cracks, 
 
 I wat they did na weary ; wot not 
 
 And unco tales, an' funnie jokes strange mysterious 
 Their sports were cheap an' cheery : cheerful 
 
 Till butter' d sow'ns, % wi* fragrant fine meai porridge 
 
 hint, steam 
 
 Set a' their gabs a-steerin ; mouths agoing 
 
 Take three dishes, put clean water in one, foul water in another, and leave 
 the third empty; blindfold a person, and lead him to the hearth where the dishes 
 are ranged ; he (or she) dips the left hand : if by chance in the clean water, the 
 future (husband or) wife will come to the bar of matrimony a maid ; if in the 
 foul, a widow ; if in the empty dish, it foretells, with equal certainty, no mar- 
 riage at all. It is repeated three times, and every time the arrangement of the 
 dishes is altered. R. B. (Luggies are wooden mugs with ear-shaped handles. 
 -J- H.) 
 
 1 1715, when the Earl of Mar headed an insurrection. See note on Sherramuir, 
 at Stanza 13. 
 
 \ Sowens, with butter instead of milk to them, is always the Halloween Sup 
 per.-~.ff. B.
 
 *T. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 153 
 
 Syne, wi' a social glass o' strung then spirits 
 They parted aff careerin 
 
 Fu' blythe that night. 
 
 [The author's own notes to this long descriptive poem are so 
 complete, that we require to add very little to the information 
 they contain. The poet has selected, as the scene of those old 
 customs and superstitious ceremonies, not the locality of his riper 
 years, but that of his infancy and boyhood. Both in Alloway and 
 at Mount Oliphant, he lived in the close neighborhood of Colzean 
 and Cassilis Downans. (Many of the ceremonies appropriate to 
 Halloween have now fallen into disuse. Meetings of young peo- 
 ple still take place, both in town and country ; but their frolics 
 are usually limited to ducking for apples in tubs of water, burn- 
 ing nuts, the lottery of the "luggies," and pulling kale-stalks. 
 -J- H.) 
 
 In the sixteenth stanza, the mention of a place is introduced, 
 which the poet names " Achmacalla. " We believe there is no 
 such locality in Carrick, or even in Ayrshire ; the rhyme required 
 it, and the name was coined accordingly. The fourth stanza from 
 the close of the poem is generally quoted as the finest descriptive 
 passage, within small compass, to be found in poesy. Respecting 
 this production, Mr. Lockhart says, "Hallowe'en, a descriptive 
 poem, perhaps even more exquisitely wrought than the ' Holy 
 Fair,' and containing nothing that could offend the feelings of 
 anybody, was produced about the same period. Burns' art had now 
 reached its climax."] 
 
 TO A MOUSE, 
 
 ON TURNING HER UP IN HER NEST WITH THE PLOUGH 
 NOVEMBER, 1785. 
 
 (KlLMARNOCK ED., 1786.) 
 
 WEE, sleeket, cowrin, tim'rous beastie, sleek crouching 
 O, what a panic's in thy breastie ! 
 Thou need na start awa sae hasty, 
 
 Wi' bickerin brattle ! scurrying scamp 
 I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee, loath 
 
 Wi' murderin' pattle ! * 
 
 An implement for clearing the plow of clods, etc. J. H.
 
 154 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. 
 
 I'm truly sorry man's dominion, 
 Has broken nature's social union, 
 An' justifies that ill opinion, 
 
 Which makes thee startle 
 At me, thy poor earth-born companion, 
 
 An' fellow-mortal ! 
 
 I doubt na, whyles.'bnt thou may thieve ; 
 
 si ' casions* 
 
 What then? poor beastie, thou maun live ! mus t 
 A daimen icker in a thrave * twenty-four sheaves 
 
 'S a sma 1 request ; smaii 
 
 I'll get a blessin wi' the lave^ rest 
 
 An' never miss't! 
 
 Thy wee bit housie,\ too, in ruin! tiny little house 
 It's silly wcSs the win's are strewin ! walls winds 
 An' naething, now, to big a new ane, bund one 
 
 Vfoggage green! 
 An' bleak December's winds ensuin, 
 
 Baith snell an' keen ! biting 
 
 Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste, 
 
 An' weary winter comin fast, 
 
 An' cozie here, beneath the blast, snugiy comfortable 
 
 Thou thought to dwell 
 Till crash ! the cruel coulter past ploughshare 
 
 Out thro' thy cell. 
 
 That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble, stubbie 
 Has cost thee mony a weary nibble ! 
 Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble, 
 
 But house or hald, without hold 
 
 To thole the winter's sleety dribble, endure 
 
 An' cranreuch cauld! hoar-frost cold 
 
 * An occasional ear in a large shock. J. H. 
 
 t Note here the extreme felicity of the piled-up diminutives, adjectival and 
 terminational. The ending ie,\s the common Scotch diminutive ; oc or ock is also 
 common in Ayrshire, as Hughoc, little Hugh, lassocfc, a little lass. J. H.
 
 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 155 
 
 But Mousie, thou art no thy lane, 
 In proving foresight may be vain ; 
 The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men 
 
 Gang aft agley,* oft miscarry 
 
 An' lea'e us nought but grief and pain, leave 
 
 For promised joy ! 
 
 Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me I 
 
 The present only toucheth thee : 
 
 But och ! I backward cast my e*e, eye 
 
 On prospects drear ! 
 An' forward, tho' I canna see, 
 
 I guess an' fear ! 
 
 [We have no variations to note here. The poem seems to have 
 issued perfect from the mint of the author's mind, when he sud- 
 denly stopped the ploughshare's farther progress on observing the 
 tiny creature escape across the rig. This is generally regarded 
 as one of the most faultless of the author's productions, and 
 unmatched even by the "Mountain Daisy" in originality and 
 interest. "It is difficult to decide (writes Currie) whether this 
 ' Address ' should be considered as serious or comic. If we smile 
 at the ' bickering brattle ' of this little flying animal, it is a smile of 
 tenderness and pity. The descriptive part is admirable ; the moral 
 reflections beautiful, arising directly out of the occasion ; and in 
 the conclusion there is a deep melancholy, a sentiment of doubt 
 and dread that rises to the sublime."] 
 
 (Burns ploughed with four horses, and required a "gadsman" to 
 assist in driving, while he held the plough. John Blane, who 
 acted as " gadsman " on this occasion, Chambers tells us, sur- 
 vived Burns sixty years, and had a distinct recollection of turn- 
 ing up the mouse. Boy-like, he ran after the creature to kill 
 it, but was checked and recalled by his master, who, he observed, 
 became thereafter thoughtful and abstracted. Burns soon after 
 read the poem to Blane. J. H.) 
 
 *Few, If any, of Burns' inimitably terse and pithy aphorisms have been so 
 frequently quoted as this. Fraught with wit and wisdom, it has become prover- 
 bial wherever the English language is known. J. H,
 
 156 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. 
 
 EPITAPH ON JOHN DOVE, INNKEEPER. 
 (STEWART AND MEIKI,E'S TRACTS, 1799.) 
 
 HERE lies Johnie Pigeon ; 
 What was his religion 
 
 Whaever desires to ken, whoever know 
 To some other warV world 
 
 Maun follow the carl, must feiiow 
 
 For here Johnie Pigeon had nane \ none 
 
 Strong ale was ablution 
 Small beer persecution, 
 
 A dram was "memento moril" 
 But a full-flowing bowl 
 Was the saving his soul, 
 
 And port was celestial glory. 
 
 [The only variation to be noted here is in the last line but 
 one: Chambers has "the joy of his soul ; " but the change is no 
 improvement, whatever the authority for it. John Dove, or more 
 familiarly, "Johnie Doo," was mine host of the Whitefoord Arms 
 Inn at Mauchline, in the main street, opposite the church, at the 
 corner of a cross street, named Cowgate. If we mistake not, he 
 was the "Paisley John" of another poem by Burns, which would 
 indicate that he originally hailed from that town. We have Gil- 
 bert Burns' authority for believing that the poet never frequented 
 public houses till he had almost formed the resolution to become 
 an author. Certain it is, before the close of the year 1785, Burns 
 was the leading member of a bachelor's club of a very odd 
 character, which held stated meetings at the "Whitefoord Arms." 
 It was a kind of secret association, the professed object of which 
 was to search out, report, and discuss the merits and demerits 
 of the many scandals that cropped up from time to time in the 
 village. The poet was made perpetual president ; John Richmond, 
 a clerk with Gavin Hamilton, writer, was appointed "Clerk of 
 Court" for they dignified the mock solemnity of their meetings 
 by adopting judicial styles and forms ; James Smith, a draper 
 in the village, was named "procurator fiscal," and to William 
 Hunter, shoemaker "weel skill'd in dead and living leather" 
 was assigned the office of " messenger-at-arms. " Having premised 
 thus much concerning this club of rare fellows, we refer the reader 
 to page 400 for the "Court of Equity."]
 
 . 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 157 
 
 EPITAPH FOR JAMES SMITH. 
 (STEWART, 1801.) 
 
 LAMENT him, Mauchline husbands a', u 
 
 He often did assist ye ; often 
 
 For had ye staid hale weeks awa, whole 
 
 Your wives they ne'er had miss'd ye. never 
 
 Ye Mauchline bairns, as on ye press children 
 To school in bands thegither, together 
 
 O tread ye lightly on his grass, 
 Perhaps he was your father ! 
 
 [In the above lampoon upon "fiscal Smith," and libel on the 
 matrons of Mauchline, we see the nature of the "cases" that 
 were usually brought before the solemn "Court" assembled in 
 the Whitefoord Arms. The poet, in his fine " Epistle to 
 J. S.," describes his friend as of " scrimp et stature," but of scanty 
 manly configuration and character.] 
 
 ADAM ARMOUR'S PRAYER. 
 
 (HOGG AND MOTHERWELL'S ED., 1834.) 
 
 GUDE pity me, because I'm little ! c-a 
 
 For though I am an elf o' mettle, 
 An' can, like ony wabster* s shuttle, any weaver's 
 Jink there or here, movenimbiy 
 
 Yet, scarce as lang's a gude kail-whittle. tell l 
 
 <~ kale-knife / 
 
 I m unco queer. uncommon 
 
 An' now Thou kens our woefu' case ; 
 
 For Geordie's u /rr" we're in disgrace, journey-wom*a
 
 15S POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. 
 
 Because we "stang'd" * her through the place, 
 
 An' hurt her spleuchan ; P urse of I 
 
 skin/ 
 
 For whilk we daurna show our face which dare not 
 Within the clachan. village 
 
 An' now we're dernd in dens and hollows, lying hid 
 
 And hunted, as was William Wallace, 
 
 Wi' constables thae blackguard fallows these 
 
 An' sodgers baith ; soldiers also 
 
 But Gude preserve us frae the gallows, from 
 
 That shamefu' death ! 
 
 Auld grim black-bearded Geordie's seV self 
 
 O shake him owre the mouth o' hell ! over 
 
 There let him king, an' roar, an' yell hang 
 
 Wi' hideous din^ noise 
 And if he offers to rebel, 
 
 Then heave him in. 
 
 When Death comes in wi' glimmerin blink, glance 
 An' tips auld drucken Nanse^ the wink, drunken Nancy 
 May Sautan gie her doup a clink bottom hasty set-down 
 
 Within his yett, gate 
 
 An fill her up wi' brimstone drink, 
 
 Red-reekin het. hot 
 
 Though Jock an' ^z/V^/Jean| are merry halfw { t a t ^j} 
 Some devil seize them in a hurry, 
 An' waft them in th' infernal wherry 
 
 Straught through the lake, straight 
 An' gie their hides a noble curry give 
 
 Wi' oil of aik ! 
 
 *" Riding the stang" was a kind of lynch law, executed against obnoxious 
 persons, by carrying them shoulder-high through the village astride a rail. J.H 
 f Geordie's wife. J Geordie's son and daughter, 
 
 g Curry their hides with an oak-stick. J. H.
 
 je.t. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 159 
 
 As for the "jurr "puir worthless body! poor 
 
 She's got mischief enough already ; 
 
 Wi' stanget hips, and buttocks bluidy, stang-ridden 
 
 She's suffer' d sair ; 
 But may she wintle in a woody, * 
 
 If she wh e mair ! 
 
 [This very free production was first printed in the Edinburgh 
 Magazine of January, 1808. Although the poem may not be 
 entitled to rank with the author's higher efforts in the same 
 style, yet few readers will be inclined to dispute that it fairly 
 establishes its own paternity. It is certainly one of a group of 
 hast}' comic eftusions dashed off by Burns at this period in con- 
 nection with the Whitefoord Arms conventions already spoken 
 of. The parents of Jean Armour lived at the back of the Inn ; 
 but Adam Armour, who is the subject of the present poem, was 
 in no way related to her. The " Geordie " of the piece was 
 another Mauchline innkeeper, whose "jurr," or female servant, 
 had committed some sexual error that caused a kind of "hue and 
 cry" against her among the neighbors. Thus encouraged, a band 
 of reckless young fellows, with Adam Armour for a ringleader, 
 " rade the stang " upon the poor sinner. Geordie, who sympa- 
 thised with his "jurr," resented this lawless outrage, and got 
 criminal proceedings raised against the perpetrators. Adam Armour, 
 who was an ill-made little fellow of some determination, had to 
 abscond, and during his wanderings he happened to fall in with 
 Burns, who, after commiserating the little outlaw, conceived the 
 "P*Tr'!r" here put into his lips.] 
 
 THE JOLLY BEGGARS : A CANTATA. 
 
 (STEWART AND MEIKLE'S TRACTS, 1799.) 
 
 Recitative. 
 
 WHEN lyart leaves bestrow the yird, withered earth 
 Or wavering like the bauckie-bird,f 
 
 Bedim cauld Boreas' blast ; slanting) 
 
 When hailstanes drive wi' bitter skyte, stroke / 
 
 Wriggle in a halter, properly in a halter made of withei. J. H. 
 t The old Scotch uame for the bat./?. B.
 
 160 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. 
 
 And infant frosts begin to bite, 
 
 In hoary cranreuch drest ; hoar-frost 
 
 Ae night at e'en a merry core party 
 
 O' randie, gangrel bodies, reckless vagrant folks 
 
 In Poosie-Nansie's held the splore, carousal 
 
 To drink their orra duddies : superflous rags 
 
 Wi' quaffing and laughing, 
 
 They ranted an' they sang, frolicked noisily 
 Wi' jumping an' thumping, 
 The vera girdle * rang. 
 
 First, niest the fire, in auld red rags, next old 
 Ane sat, weel brac'd wi' mealy bags,f 
 
 And knapsack a' in order ; 
 His doxy lay within his arm ; mistress 
 
 Wi' usquebae an' blankets warm whisky 
 
 She blinket on her sodger : looked amorously 
 An' ay he gies the tozie drab fuddled 
 
 The tither skelpin kiss, other noisy 
 
 While she held up her greedy gab, mouth 
 
 Just like an aumous dish : J 
 Ilk smack still did crack still, 
 Just like a cadger's whip ; 
 Then staggering an' swaggering, 
 He roar'd this ditty up 
 
 * A circular iron plate used in Scotland for baking oat-meal cakes and " scones " 
 >n over the fire ; a griddle. It is by no means sonorous ; so from its ringing one 
 may judge of the riotous character of the "splore." J. H. 
 
 t See note following. 
 
 t Alms-dish : the Scottish beggars used to carry a large wooden dish for the 
 reception of such alms as they received in the form of cooked food. They still 
 more commonly carried a bag, called a meal-poke, to contain the handfuls of oat- 
 meal which was given them in place of money. J. H. 
 
 {i The cadger was a hawker, who travelled the country with a horse or ass, 
 carrying two panniers loaded with merchandise. The term came to be applied 
 to any one who drove a cart regularly for hire ; as, a coal-cadger, J. H.
 
 THE JOLLY BEGGARS" I am a son of Mars who have 
 been in many wars."
 
 -aer. 27.] 
 
 POEMS AND SONGS. 
 AIR. 
 
 161 
 
 1 am a son of Mars, who have been in ma - ny wars, And show my cuts 
 
 and scars wher - ev - er I come ; This here was for a wench, and that 
 
 
 oth - er in a trench, When wel - com - ing the French at the sound of the drum. 
 
 My pren - tice - ship I past where my lead - er breathed his last, When the blood-y die 
 
 was cast on the heights of A-bram: I serv'd out my trade when the gal -lant game 
 
 I 
 
 -* m I N" T I N 
 
 )JL J J-^ I J, 
 
 J * * * J j 
 
 was play'd, And the Mo - ro low was laid at the sound of the drum: I 
 
 J J 
 
 served out my trade when the gal - lant game was play'd, I served out my trade when the 
 
 |" ft *- J 1 I _J vtJ JTJt 
 
 J J > * J g . J* I * J 
 
 gal -lant game was play'd, And the Mo - ro low was laid at the sound of the drum. 
 
 Tune." Soldier's Joy." 
 
 I am a son of Mars who have been in many wars, 
 
 And show my cuts and scars wherever I come ; 
 This here was for a wench, and that other in a trench, 
 When welcoming the French at the sound of the drum. 
 
 Lai de daudle, &c. 
 L K
 
 162 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. 
 
 My prenticeship I past where my leader breath 'd his 
 
 last, 
 When the bloody die was cast on the heights of 
 
 Abram : * 
 And I served out my trade when the gallant game 
 
 was play'd, 
 
 And the Morof low was laid at the sound of the 
 drum. 
 
 I lastly was with Curtis among the floating batt'ries,| 
 And there I left for witness an arm and a limb ; 
 
 Yet let my country need me, with Elliot to lead 
 
 me, 
 I'd clatter on my stumps at the sound of a drum. 
 
 And now tho' I must beg, with a wooden arm and 
 
 leg, 
 
 And many a tatter' d rag hanging over my bum, 
 I'm as happy with my wallet, my bottle and my 
 
 callet, truii 
 
 As when I used in scarlet to follow a drum. 
 
 What tho', with hoary locks, I must stand the winter 
 
 shocks, 
 Beneath the woods and rocks, oftentimes for a 
 
 home, 
 When the tother bag I sell, || and the tother bottle 
 
 tell, 
 
 I could meet a troop of hell, at the sound of a 
 drum. 
 
 * The battle-ground in front of Quebec, where Wolfe victoriously fell in Sep- 
 tember, 1759. 
 
 t El Moro was the castle that defended the harbor of Santiago, a small island 
 near the southern coast of Cuba. It was taken by the British in 1762, after which 
 Havanna surrendered. J. H. 
 
 \ The destruction of the famous Spanish floating batteries, during the famous 
 iege in 1782, on which occasion Captain Curtis signalized himself. 
 
 I G. A. Elliot (Lord Heathfield), who defended Gibraltar during a siege of three 
 years. 
 
 | Bag of oatmeal collected by begging and sold for whisky. J. H.
 
 27.] 
 
 POEMS AND SONGS. 
 
 163 
 
 Recitativo. 
 
 He ended ; and the kebars sheuk^ rafters shook 
 
 A boon the chorus roar ; above 
 While frightened rations backward leuk, rats loot 
 
 An' seek the benmost bore: innermost hole 
 
 A fairy fiddler frae the neuk, nook 
 
 He skirl' d out, encore ! 
 
 But up arose the martial chuck, ten 
 
 An' laid the loud uproar. 
 
 LIVELY. 
 
 AIR. 
 
 I once was a maid, though I can - not tell when, And still my de - light is in 
 
 pro - per young men ; Some one of a troop of dra - goons was my dad - die, No 
 
 won - der I'm fond of a sod - ger lad - die. Sing lal de dal, &c. 
 
 xP f !* *-i 
 
 Tune. " Sodger Laddie." 
 
 I once was a maid, tho' I cannot tell when, 
 And still my delight is in proper young men : 
 Some one of a troop of dragoons was my daddie, 
 No wonder I'm fond of a sodger laddie. 
 
 Sing, lal de dal, &c. 
 
 The first of my loves was a swaggering blade. 
 To rattle the thundering drum was his trade ;
 
 164 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. 
 
 His leg was so tight, and his cheek was so ruddy, 
 Transported I was with my sodger laddie. 
 
 But the godly old chaplain left him in the lurch ; 
 The sword I forsook for the sake of the church : 
 He ventur'd the soul, and I risket the body, risked 
 'Twas then I prov'd false to my sodger laddie. 
 
 Full soon I grew sick of my sanctified sot, 
 The regiment at large for a husband I got ; 
 From the gilded spontoon to the fife I was ready, 
 I asked no more but a sodger laddie. 
 
 But the peace it reduc'd me to beg in despair, 
 Till I met my old boy in a Cunningham * fair ; 
 His rags regimental they flutter' d so gaudy, 
 My heart it rejoic'd at a sodger laddie. 
 
 And now I have liv'd I know not how long, 
 
 And still I can join in a cup and a song ; 
 
 But whilst with both hands I can hold the glass 
 
 steady, 
 Here's to thee, my hero, my sodger laddie. 
 
 Recitative. 
 
 [Poor Merry-Andrew, in the neuk, comer 
 
 Sat guzzling wi' a tinkler-hizzie ; tinker wench 
 
 They mind't na wha the chorus teuk took 
 
 Between themselves they were sae busy : 
 At length, wi' drink an' courtin dizzy, 
 
 He stoiter* d up an' made a face ; staggered 
 
 Then turn'd, an' laid a smack on Grizzie, kiss Grace 
 
 Syne tun'd his pipes wi' grave grimace. 
 
 * Cunningham fair was held at Stewarton, near Kilmarnock.
 
 27-] POEMS AND SONGS. 1S5 
 
 AIR. 
 LrvBL*. 
 
 f-e-tB= 
 
 Sir Wis-dom'sa fool when he's fou, Sir Knave is a fool in a ses-sion; 
 
 ^ K i l Ifc 1 
 
 He's there but a pren-tice, I trow. But I am a fool by pro -fes- lion. 
 
 My gran - nie she bought me a beuk, And I held a - wa to the school ; I 
 
 fear I my ta - lent mis - teuk, But what will ye hae of a fool? 
 
 Tune" Auld Sir Symon." 
 
 Sir Wisdom's a fool when he's fou; full (drunk) 
 Sir Knave is a fool in a session ; * 
 
 He's there but a prentice I trow, 
 But I am a fool by profession. 
 
 My grannie she bought me a 
 
 An' I held awa to the school ; 
 I fear I my talent misteuk, mistook 
 
 But what will ye hae of a fool ? 
 
 For drink I would venture my neck ; 
 
 A hizzte^s the half of my craft ; wench 
 
 But what could ye other expect, 
 
 Of ane that's avowedly daft? 
 
 I ance was tyed up like a stirk^ yearling steer 
 For civilly swearing and quaffing ; 
 
 * Apparently, when being tried for some offence. 
 
 t This refers to the punishment of the " Jougs," an iron collar padlocked round 
 a culprit's neck in a public thoroughfare.
 
 166 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. 
 
 I ance was abus'd i 1 the kirk, in 
 
 For touzlinx a lass i' my daffin. , . P lin g} 
 
 J " frolicsomeness > 
 
 Poor Andrew that tumbles for sport, 
 Let naebody name wi' a jeer ; 
 
 There's even, I'm tauld, i' the Court ton 
 A tumbler ca'd the Premier. 
 
 Observ'd ye yon reverend lad 
 
 Mak faces to tickle the mob ; 
 He rails at our mountebank squad, 
 
 It's rivalship just i' the job. 
 
 And now my conclusion I'll tell, 
 For faith I'm confoundedly dry ; 
 
 The chiel that's a fool for himsel, 
 Guid Lr-d ! he's far dafter than I.] 
 
 Recitativo. 
 
 Then niest outspak a raucle carlin stout beldam 
 Wha kent fu' weel to cleek the sterlin ; clutc * } 
 
 7 (steal) 
 
 For mony a pursie she had hooked, 
 
 An' had in mony a well been douked : ducked 
 
 Her love had been a Highland laddie, 
 
 But weary fa' the waefu' woodie ; gibbet-halter 
 
 Wi' sighs an' sobs she thus began 
 
 To wail her braw John Highlandman. brave 
 
 AIR. 
 LIVELY. 
 
 A High - land lad my love was born, The Lal-lan' laws he held in scorn, But he 
 
 fc= . . ^ i , I 2 ^ i f r r-^=r^- -^TFJ=I ==a 
 
 still was faith - fu' to his clan, My gal - lant braw John High-land man,
 
 . 27.] 
 
 POEMS AND SONGS. 
 
 167 
 
 CHO. Sing, hey my braw John High-land-man ! Sing, ho my braw John Hing-land-man I 
 
 U J 
 
 There's not a lad in a" the Ian', Was match for my John High-land-man. 
 
 Tune. "O an ye were dead, Guidman." 
 
 A Highland lad my love was born, 
 The lalland laws he held in scorn ; 
 But he still was faithfu' to his clan, 
 My gallant, braw John Highlandman. 
 
 lowland 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Sing hey my braw John Highlandman ! 
 Sing ho my braw John Highlandman ! 
 There's not a lad in a' the Ian' 
 Was match for my John Highlandman. 
 
 kilt 
 broadsword 
 
 lowland 
 
 With his philibeg an' tartan plaid, 
 An' guid claymore down by his side, 
 The ladies' hearts he did trepan, 
 My gallant, braw John Highlandman. 
 
 Sing hey, &c. 
 
 We ranged a' from Tweed to Spey,* 
 An' liv'd like lords an' ladies gay ; 
 For a lalland face he feared none, 
 My gallant, braw John Highlandman. 
 
 Sing hey, &c. 
 
 They banish' d him beyond the sea, 
 But ere the bud was on the tree, 
 Adown my cheeks the pearls ran, 
 Embracing my John Highlandman. 
 
 Sing hey, &c. 
 
 * Tweed separates Scotland from England : Spey is a river in Inverness-shir;, 
 The phrase means from South to North of Scotland. J. H.
 
 168 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785, 
 
 But, och ! they catch' d him at the last, 
 And bound him in a dungeon fast : 
 My curse upon them every one, 
 They've hanged my braw John Highlandmau! 
 
 Sing hey, &c. 
 
 And now a widow I must mourn 
 The pleasures that will ne'er return ; 
 No comfort but a hearty can, 
 When I think on John Highlandman. 
 
 Sing hey, &c. 
 
 Recitative. 
 A pigmy scraper wi' his fiddle, 
 
 markets , 
 i' 
 
 Wha us'd at trystes an' fairs to driddle, 
 
 Her strappin limb and gausy middle burom 
 
 (He reach' d nae higher) 
 Had holed his heartie like a riddle, 
 
 An' blawrftva. fire, blown it 
 
 Wi' hand on hainch, and upward e'e, haunch 
 He croon 1 d his gamut, one, two three, hummed 
 Then in an arioso key, 
 
 The wee Apollo 
 Set off wi' allegretto glee 
 
 His giga solo. 
 
 AIR. 
 
 SLOW. 
 
 j| j. j j^b 
 
 Let me ryk: up to dight that tear, And go wi' me and be my dear. 
 
 Aod then your er-ry care and fear. May whis-tle owre the lave o't.
 
 ifft. 27-] POEMS AND SONGS. 169 
 
 
 CHO. I am a fid - dler to my trade, And a' the tunes that e'er I played, 
 
 The sweet -est still to wife or maid. Was whis-tle owre the lave o't 
 
 Tune "Whistle owre the lave o't." 
 
 Let me ryke up to dight that tear reach wipe 
 An' go wi' me an' be my dear ; 
 An' then your every care an' fear 
 
 May whistle owre the lave eft.* rest of it 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 I am a fiddler to my trade, 
 An' a' the tunes that e'er I play'd, 
 The sweetesv. still to wife or maid, 
 Was whistle owre the lave o't. 
 
 At kirns an' weddins we^se be there harvest-homes 
 
 we shall/ 
 
 An' O sae nicely 's we will fare ! 
 We'll bowse about till Daddie Care carouse 
 
 Sing whistle owre the lave o't 
 I am, &c. 
 
 Sae merrily 's the banes we'll Pyke, bones pick 
 
 An' SUn OUrsells about the dyke ; earth or stone fence 
 
 An' at our leisure, when ye like, 
 We'll whistle owre the lave o't. 
 I am, &c. 
 
 But bless me wi' your heav'n o' charms, 
 An' while I kittle hair on thairms,t 
 Hunger, cauld, an' a' sic harms, cold 
 
 May whistle owre the lave o'L 
 I am, &c. 
 
 A popular Scotch air. His meaning is : grant my prayer, and then you CM 
 regard all else with indifference. J. H. 
 t Tickle the horse-hair of the bow on catgut.
 
 170 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. 
 
 Recitative. 
 
 Her charms had struck a sturdy caird,* 
 
 As weel as poor gut-scraper ; 
 He taks the fiddler by the beard, 
 
 An' draws a roosty rapier rust* 
 
 He stvoor by a j was swearing worth, swore ail 
 
 To speet him like a pliver, plover for roasting 
 
 Unless he would from that time forth 
 
 Relinquish her for ever. 
 
 Wi' ghastly e*e, poor tweedle-dee eye 
 
 Upon his hunkers bended haunches 
 
 An' pray'd for grace wi' ruefu' face, 
 
 An' so the quarrel ended. 
 But tho' his little heart did grieve 
 
 When round the tinkler prest her, 
 He feign' d to snirtle in his sleeve, laugh furtively 
 
 When thus the caird address' d her: 
 
 AIR. 
 
 LIVELY. 
 
 My bon - nie lass, I work in brass, A link - ler is my sta - tion, 
 
 I've travelled round all Christian ground In this my oc - cu - pa - tion; 
 
 I've ta'en the gold, I've been en -rolled In many a no - ble squad -ron; 
 
 But vain they searched, when off I marched To go and clout the caul - dron. 
 
 * Cairds were travelling tinkers or horn spoon-makers, and generally gipsie* 
 nd thieves. J. U,
 
 . 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 171 
 
 Tune" Clout the Cauldron." 
 
 My bonie lass, I work in brass, 
 
 A tinkler is my station ; 
 I've travel' d round all Christian ground 
 
 In this my occupation ; 
 I've taen the gold, an' been enrolled taken 
 
 In many a noble squadron ; * 
 But vain they search' d when off I march' d 
 
 To go an' clout the cauldron. patch 
 
 I've taen the gold, &c. 
 
 Despise that shrimp, that wither' d imp. 
 
 With a' his noise an' cap'rin ; 
 An' take a share with those that bear 
 
 The budget and the apron ! tool-bag 
 
 And by that stowp! my faith an' houp flagon hope 
 
 And by that dear Kilbagie,f 
 If e'er ye want, or meet wi' scant, short commons 
 
 May I ne'er weet my craigie. throat 
 
 And by that stowp, &c. 
 
 Recitative. 
 
 The caird prevail' d th' unblushing fair 
 
 In his embraces sunk ; 
 Partly wi' love o'ercome sae sair^ so sore 
 
 An' partly she was drunk : 
 Sir Violino, with an air 
 
 That show'd a man o' spunk, mettle 
 
 Wish'd unison between the pair, 
 
 An' made the bottle clunk J 
 
 To their health that night. 
 
 * He was a bounty-jumper. J. H. 
 
 t A peculiar sort of whisky so called, a great favorite with Poosie Nansie'f 
 clubs. A 1 . B, So named from Kilbagie distillery, in Clackmannan-shire. 
 J Onomatopoetic, for the gurgling sound m^de in pouring out liquor. J. H.
 
 172 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785- 
 
 But hurchin Cupid shot a shaft, urchin 
 
 That play'd a dame a shavie trick 
 The fiddler rak'd her, fore and aft, 
 
 Behint the chicken came. hen coop 
 Her lord, a wight of Homer's craft,* 
 
 Tho' limpin wi' the spavie, spavin 
 
 He hirpVd up, an' lap like daft limped as if crazy 
 
 An' sJior* d them Dainty Davie f sang 
 
 (9' boot that night. to boot 
 
 He was a care-defying blade 
 
 As ever Bacchus listed ! 
 Tho' Fortune sair upon him laid ore 
 
 His heart, she ever miss'd it 
 He had no wish but to be glad, 
 
 Nor want but when he thristed ; 
 He hated nought but to be sad, 
 
 An' thus the muse suggested 
 
 His sang that night 
 
 AIR. 
 
 lr g C^^Ig-g r_ J 
 
 I am a bard of no re - gard Wi' gen - tie folks and a' that ; 
 
 But Homer - like, the glow-rin' byke, Frae town to town I draw that. 
 
 _HO. For a' that, and a' that, And twice as muc-kle's a' that, 
 
 
 I've lost but ane, I've twa be-hin', I've wife e-nough for a' that 
 
 * Homer is allowed to be the oldest ballad-singer on record. R. Jl. 
 t A popular Scotch air and song.
 
 . 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 173 
 
 Tune. "For a' that, an' a' that." 
 
 I am a Bard of no regard, 
 Wi' gentle folks an' a' that ; 
 
 But Hoiner-like, the glowrin byke, staring throng 
 Frae town to town I draw that. from 
 
 Chorus, 
 
 For a' that an' a' that, 
 
 An' twice as muckle 1 s a' that ; much 
 I've lost but ane, I've twa behin', 
 
 I've wife eneugh for a' that. 
 
 I never drank the Muses' stank, pool or fountain 
 Castalia's burn, an' a' that : 
 
 But there it streams an' richly reams, 
 My Helicon I ca' that.* 
 
 For a' that, &c. 
 
 Great love I bear to a' the fair, 
 Their humble slave an' a' that ; 
 
 But lordly will, I hold it still 
 
 A mortal sin to thraw that thwart 
 
 For a' that, &c. 
 
 In raptures sweet, this hour we meet, 
 Wi' mutual love and' a' that ; 
 
 But for how lang the flie may stang fanc y \ 
 Let inclination law that. 
 
 For a' that, &c. 
 
 Their tricks an' craft hae put me daft, crazy 
 They've taen me in, an' a' that ; taken 
 
 But clear your decks, an' here's the Sex ! 
 I like the jads for a' that. jades 
 
 We must here imagine the singer to pour out his beer with jovial abandon. 
 -J. H.
 
 174 POEMS AND SONGS. 
 
 For a' that an' a' that, 
 An' twice as muckle's a' that ; 
 
 My dearest bluid, to do them guid, 
 They're welcome till't for a' that. 
 
 Recitativo. 
 
 So sung the bard and Nansies wa j s waiia 
 
 Shook with a thunder of applause, 
 
 Re-echo' d from each mouth ! 
 They toom'd their pocks,* they pawn'd their 
 
 duds rags of clothing 
 
 They scarcely left to coor their fuds, cover hips 
 
 To quench their lowin drouth : flaming 
 
 Then owre again, the jovial thrang once more 
 
 The poet did request 
 
 To lowse his pack an' wale a sang; loose choose 
 A ballad o' the best : 
 He rising, rejoicing, 
 
 Between his twa Deborahs, 
 Looks round him, an' found them 
 Impatient for the chorus. 
 
 AIR. 
 
 LIVELY. . 
 
 ,. g-L4g.-F-^==fag=P 
 
 See the smok - ing bowl be - fore us, mark our jov - ial rag - ged ring ! 
 
 Round and round take up the cho - rus, And in rap-tures let us sing, 
 
 f- . | * ^-^1 * > 
 
 $=p=-\~[ \ ^-w^^mf-jf-f\- ^ ^~ 
 ~ >-=g-g-5r-r- d -fr^ 
 
 CHO. A fig for those, a fig for those by law pro-tect-ed ! Liber-ty's a glor-ious 
 
 y * * + \ ^ "-^ laT^j^ & 
 
 feast, li - ber - ty's a glor-i-ous feast! Courts for cowards were e-rect-ed, Churches 
 
 U I I U *>- cz^zz m 
 
 =c=izr-r_ _ . 
 
 built to please the -priest, chur-ches built, chur - ches built to please the priest. 
 * Emptied their meal-bags for drink. J. H.
 
 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 175 
 
 Tune. "Jolly Mortals fill your Glasses.' 
 
 See the smoking bowl before us, 
 
 Mark our jovial, ragged ring ! 
 Round and round take up the chorus, 
 
 And in raptures let us sing 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 A fig for those by law protected ! 
 
 Liberty's a glorious feast ! 
 Courts for cowards were erected, 
 
 Churches built to please the priest. 
 
 What is title, what is treasure, 
 
 What is reputation's care? 
 If we lead a life of pleasure, 
 
 'Tis no matter how or where ! 
 A fig for, &c. 
 
 With the ready trick and fable, 
 
 Round we wander all the day ; 
 And at night, in barn or stable, 
 
 Hug our doxies on the hay. sweetheart* 
 
 A fig for, &c. 
 
 Does the train-attended carriage 
 
 Thro' the country lighter rove? 
 Does the sober bed of marriage 
 
 Witness brighter scenes of love ? 
 A fig for, &c. 
 
 Life is all a variorum, 
 
 We regard not how it goes ; 
 Let them cant about decorum, 
 
 Who have character to lose. 
 
 A fig for, &c. 
 
 Here's to budgets, bags and wallets ! 
 Here's to all the wandering train,
 
 170 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785 
 
 Here's our ragged brats and callets, children truiu 
 One and all cry out, Amen ! 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 A fig for those by law protected ! 
 
 Liberty's a glorious feast ! 
 Courts for cowards were erected, 
 
 Churches built to please the priest 
 
 [That this extraordinary work of minstrel-art was composed 
 before the close of 1785, is evident from John Richmond's account 
 of it furnished to Robert Chambers. One night after a meeting 
 held at John Dow's, the poet, in the company of James Smith 
 and Richmond, ventured into a very noisy assemblage of vagrants, 
 who were making merry in a "hedge alehouse," kept by a Mrs. 
 Gibson, known by the sobriquet of "Poosie" or "Poosie Nancy." 
 After witnessing a little of the rough jollity there, the three 
 young men left ; and in the course of a few days, Burns recited 
 a part of the poem to Richmond, who reported that, to the best 
 of his recollection, it contained songs by a Sweep and by a Sailor, 
 which do not appear in the finished cantata. About Martinmas, 
 1785, Richmond removed to Edinburgh, taking with him a portion 
 of the cantata, which the poet had presented to him, namely, 
 that part which we have marked off with brackets. 
 
 The "Jolly Beggars" was first published in Stewart and Meikle's 
 Tracts, 1799, without the portion which had thus been given to 
 Richmond. It was republished by Thomas Stewart, of Glasgow, 
 in 1801, and again in 1802, embracing the recitativo and song 
 of " Merry Andrew," which had in the meantime been supplied 
 by Richmond. The manuscript thus completed was published in 
 fac-simile by Lumsden, of Glasgow, in 1823, with consent of Stewart, 
 who was then the owner of it. The preface to that facsimile 
 contains the following statement: "The manuscript was given by 
 the poet himself to Mr. David Woodburn, at that time factor to 
 Mr. M'Adam, of Craigengillan, and by Mr. Woodburn to Mr. Robert 
 M'Limont, merchant in Glasgow, from whom it passed into the 
 possession of Mr. Smith, of Greenock, who gave it to the present 
 possessor. ' ' 
 
 The original MS. is now (1876) the property of Mr. Gilbert Burns, 
 of Knockmaroon Lodge, County Dublin, nephew of the poet, who 
 purchased it (along with some other manuscripts) for fifty guineas. 
 On the fly-leaf of the bound volume is a memorandum by a 
 daughter of Mr. Stewart, residing in the Azores, stating that her 
 father's uncle, Mr. Richmond, the poet's early friend, gave Mr. 
 Stewart the MS. On another leaf is written "This manuscript
 
 /ST. 27.3 POEMS AND SONGS. 177 
 
 belongs to David Crichton, junior, Pictou, Nova Scotia, North 
 America. Purchased at Terceiva, one of the Azores, or Western 
 Islands, I3th January, 1845." 
 
 From the foregoing account, it would appear that, while Wood- 
 burn, in 1786, obtained possession of the main poeni, a small por- 
 tion of it, which is really inferior in quality to the rest, seems to 
 have been purposely omitted by the author, when he stitched up 
 the manuscript and handed it to Woodburn. That rejected part 
 had been given to Richmond, who, in 1801, presented it to his 
 nephew, Mr. Stewart, to complete the cantata which that gentle- 
 man had obtained from Mr. Smith, of Greenock. (Naturally, in 
 Mr. Stewart's family, there would be more talk of the present 
 made to him by his uncle than of that by Mr. Smith, and Mr. 
 Stewart's daughter might easily have believed the whole MS. 
 came from her grand-uncle. J. H.) That this is the correct way 
 of reconciling any apparent discrepancies in stating the pedigree 
 of this unique manuscript, is manifest on examining the original : 
 the long dismembered portion is written on one sheet, in a larger 
 character, in a different tint of ink, and apparently on a different 
 quality of paper. 
 
 It is a remarkable fact that Cromek (who, in 1810, published a 
 copy of the Jolly Beggars from the original MS., lent by Mr. 
 Stewart for the purpose), having heard from Mr. Richmond that 
 a Sailor had originally formed one of the persons in the poet's 
 drama, actually took upon him to introduce a Sailor, at that part 
 of the last recitativo but one, where the Fiddler relieves the Bard 
 *f one of his Deborahs, thus, 
 
 " But hurchin Cupid shot a shaft, 
 That play'd a dame a shavie ; 
 A Sailor raked her fore and aft," &c. 
 
 "Cromek used other liberties with the text which we need not 
 ''arther refer to ; but the public is now put in possession of the 
 whole history of this wonderful poem.] 
 
 SONG FOR A' THAT. 
 
 (JOHNSON'S MUSEUM, 1790.) 
 
 THO' women's minds, like winter winds, 
 
 May shift, and turn, an' a' that, 
 The noblest breast adores them maist most 
 
 A consequence I draw that. 
 L L
 
 178 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. 
 
 Chor. For a' that an' a' that, 
 
 And twice as meikle 1 s a' that j much 
 
 The bonie lass that I loe best love 
 
 She'll be my ain for a' that own 
 
 Great love I bear to a' the fair, 
 
 Their humble slave, an' a' that; 
 But lordly will, I hold it still 
 
 A mortal sin to thrazv that. tawart 
 
 For a' that, &c. 
 
 But there is ane aboon the lave, above rest 
 
 Has wit, and sense, an' a' that ; 
 A bonie lass, I like her best, 
 
 And wha a crime dare ca 1 that? can 
 
 For a' that, &c. 
 
 In rapture sweet this hour we meet, 
 
 Wi' mutual love an' a' that, 
 But for how lang the flie may stang, <ancv may last 
 
 Let inclination law that 
 
 For a' that, &c. 
 
 Their tricks an' craft hae put me daft, have 
 
 They've taen me in an' a' that; deceived me 
 
 But clear your decks, and here's ' The sex ! ' 
 I like the jads for a' that. hussies 
 
 For a' that, &c. 
 
 [This composition is an altered version of the Bard's first song 
 in the "Jolly Beggars." The first and third stanzas here given 
 are wanting in the other version, and the two opening stanzas 
 of the song in the Jolly Beggars are here omitted. Verse third 
 of the text first appeared in Pickering's ed., 1839. We shall next 
 proceed to give what seems to have been the poet's first intention 
 as a song for the "sturdy caird" in the same cantata, and with- 
 drawn in favor of that already given.J
 
 27.3 K)MS AND SONGS. 170 
 
 SONG KISSIN MY KATIE. 
 
 (JOHNSON'S MUSEUM, 1790.) 
 Tune "The bob o' Dumblane." 
 O MERRY hae I been teethin a heckle. have | 
 
 . ' flax-dressers comb > 
 
 An' merry hae I been shapin a spoon ; 
 O merry hae I been cloutin a kettle, mending 
 
 An' kissin my Katie when a' was done.* 
 O ' the lang day I ca 1 at my hammer, an day long drive 
 
 An' a' the lang day I whistle and sing ; 
 O a' the lang night I cuddle my kimmer, fondle girt 
 
 An' a' the lang night as happy 's a king. 
 
 T'i.i j / T / i.-j grief eat fruit of > 
 
 Bitter in dool I hckit my winmns earnings/ 
 
 O' marrying Bess, to gie her a slave : f 
 
 grew cold > 
 
 Blest be the hour she cooVd in her linnens, shroud; 
 
 And blythe be the bird that sings on her grave ! merry 
 Come to my arms, my Katie, my Katie ; 
 
 O come to my arms and kiss me again ! 
 Drucken or sober, here's to thee Katie : drunk 
 
 An' blest be the day I did it again. 
 
 [The operations described in the first stanza are all those of 
 the tinker. It is supposed that this song was intended to be 
 made use of in the "Jolly Beggars," and was afterwards thrown 
 aside for the more suitable one put into the caird's lips " My 
 bonie lass, I work in brass."] 
 
 * We have here a terse vidimus of the different occupations of a travelling 
 caird. He replaces teeth in a flax- dresser's comb ; he makes spoons from rams' 
 and cows' horns ; he tinkers dilapidated kettles and other metal vessels ; and in 
 the evening gives himself up to sensual pleasure. J. H. 
 
 t In bitter sorrow I expiated my folly iu marrying Bess, and thus becoming 
 her slave. J. H.
 
 180 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. 
 
 THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT. 
 
 INSCRIBED TO R. AIKEN, ESQ. 
 [KILMARNOCK ED., 1786.] 
 
 "Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, 
 
 Their homely joys, and destiny obscure ; 
 Nor Grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile, 
 The short and simple annals of the poor." 
 
 GRAT. 
 
 My iov'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 Aiken in a cottage would have been ; 
 Ah ! tho' his worth unknown, far happier there 1 
 ween ! 
 
 November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh ; sighing sound 
 The short' ning winter-day is near a close ; 
 
 The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh; plough 
 
 The black' ning trains o' craws to their repose : crows 
 The toil-worn Cotter frae his labor goes, from 
 
 This night his weekly moil is at an end, drudgery 
 
 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 : 
 Th v expectant wee-things, toddlin, stacker children tottering ) 
 
 through stagger 
 
 To meet their 'dad,' wi' flichteriri* noise fluttering 
 and <rlee.
 
 ajT. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 181 
 
 fire glancing \ 
 
 His wee bit ingle, blinkin bonilie, cheerfully / 
 
 His clean hearth-stane, his thrifty wifie's smile, 
 
 The lisping infant, prattling on his knee, 
 Does a' his weary kiaugh and care 1 beguile, carking anety 
 And makes him quite forget his labor and his toil. 
 
 Belyve, the elder bairns come drapping in, by and by 
 
 At service out, amang the farmers roun; around 
 
 Some ca 1 the pleugfh, some herd, some tentie rin drive) 
 
 * attentively > 
 
 A cannie errand to a neibor town : easy 
 
 Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman-grown, Janet 
 
 In youthfu' bloom love sparkling in her e>e eye 
 
 Comes hame ; perhaps, to shew a braw new fine 
 
 gown, 
 
 Or deposite her sazr-won penny-fee, hard wages 
 To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be. 
 
 With joy unfeign'd, brothers and sisters meet, 
 
 And each for other's welfare kindly spiers : enquires 
 
 The social hours, swift- winged, unnotic'd fleet ; 
 
 Each tells the uncos that he sees or hears, strange things 
 The parents, partial, eye their hopeful years; 
 
 Anticipation forward points the view ; 
 
 The mother, wi' her needle and her sheers, scissors 
 
 Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the makes clothes * 
 new ; almost]> 
 
 The father mixes a' wi' admonition due. 
 
 Their master's and their mistress's command, 
 
 The younkers a' are warned to obey ; youngsters 
 
 And mind their labors wi' an eydent hand, diligent 
 
 And ne'er, tho' out o' sight, to jauk or play ; loaf 
 u And O ! be sure to fear the Lord alway, 
 
 And mind your duty, duly, morn and night ; 
 
 Lest in temptation's path ye gang astray, go 
 
 Implore His counsel and assisting might : 
 
 They never sought in vain that sought the I^ord 
 aright."
 
 182 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. 
 
 But hark ! a rap comes gently to the door ; 
 
 Jenny, wha kens the meaning <?' the same, knows of 
 Tells how a neibor lad came o'er the moor, 
 
 To do some errands, and convoy her hame. 
 
 The wily mother sees the conscious flame 
 Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, and flush her cheek ; eye 
 
 With heart-struck anxious care, enquires his name, 
 While Jenny hafflins is afraid to speak ; half 
 
 Weel-pleas'd the mother hears, it's nae wild, 
 worthless rake. 
 
 Wi' kindly welcome, Jenny brings him ben* in 
 
 A strappin' youth, he takes the mother's eye ; 
 Blythe Jenny sees the visit's no ill td > en;^\sA taken amiss 
 
 The father cracks of horses, pleughs, and chats ploughs 
 kye. cows 
 
 The youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi' joy, 
 But blate an' laithfu" 1 , scarce can weel behave ; bashful timid 
 
 The mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy 
 What makes the youth sae bashfu' and sae grave ; 
 Weel-pleas'd to think her bairn's respected like child 
 
 the lave. others of her sex 
 
 O happy love ! where love like this is found : 
 O heart-felt raptures ! bliss beyond compare ! 
 I've paced much this weary, mortal round, 
 And sage experience bids me this declare, 
 " If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare- 
 One cordial in this melancholy vale, 
 
 'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair 
 In other's arms, breathe out the tender tale, 
 Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening 
 gale.t" 
 
 See p. 47. 
 
 f'lf anything on earth deserves the name of rapture or transport, it is the 
 feeling of green eighteen in the company of the mistress of his heart, when she 
 repays him with an equal return of affection." Common-place Book, April, 1783.
 
 -SJT. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 183 
 
 Is there, in human form, that bears a heart, 
 
 A wretch ! a villain ! lost to love and truth ! 
 That can, with studied, sly, ensnaring art, 
 
 Betray sweet Jenny's unsuspecting youth? 
 
 Curse on his perjur'd arts ! dissembling, smooth ! 
 Are honor, virtue, conscience, all exil'd? 
 
 Is there no pity, no relenting ruth, 
 Points to the parents fondling o'er their child? 
 Then paints the ruin'd maid, and their distraction 
 wild? 
 
 But now the supper crowns their simple board, 
 
 The halesome parritch, chief of Scotia's wholesome oatmeal) 
 
 food ; porridge 
 
 The sowpe* their only hawkie does afford, cow 
 
 That, 'yont the kalian snugly chows her beyond partition 
 cood : cud 
 
 The dame brings forth, in complimental mood, 
 
 To grace the lad, her weel-hairtd kebbuck carefully saved, ^ 
 
 foi] . pungent cheese/ 
 
 And aft he's prest, and aft he cd 1 s it guid : calls 
 The frugal wifie, garrulous, will tell 
 How 'twas a towmond auld, sin' lint was i' the bell, f 
 
 The cheerfu' supper done, wt 1 serious face, with 
 
 They, round the ingle, form a circle wide ; fireside 
 The sire turns o'er with patriarchal grace, 
 
 The big hd 1 -bible, \ ance his father's pride :haii-bibie once 
 
 His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside, 
 His lyart hajfets wearin thin and bare ; gray temples 
 
 Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, 
 He wales a portion with judicious care ; selects 
 
 And " Let us worship God ! " he says with solemn air. 
 
 * Any liquid supped with a spoon ; here it means milk. The Scotch phrase, 
 "Bite and Sowpe" is equivalent to the English "Bit and Sup." J. H. 
 
 fHow it was a twelvemonth old since flax was in bloom. J. H. 
 
 t In every Scotch family there is a large quarto or folio Bible, which comes 
 down as a family-loom from sire to son, and is used besides as a register of births 
 and deaths. The first purchase a young couple makes (if they have not inherited 
 one) is a family Bible. J. H.
 
 184 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. 
 
 They chant their artless notes in simple guise, 
 
 They tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim ; 
 Perhaps 'Dundee's' * wild-warbling measures rise, 
 
 Or plaintive ' Martyrs, ' * worthy of the name ; 
 
 Or noble ' Elgin ' * beets the heaven-ward flame, fan* 
 The sweetest far of Scotia's- holy lays : 
 
 Compar'd with these, Italian trills are tame ; 
 The tickl'd ears no heartfelt raptures raise ; 
 Nae unison hae they, with our Creator's praise, no have 
 
 The priest-like father reads the sacred page, 
 
 How Abram was the friend of God on high ; 
 Or Moses bade eternal warfare wage 
 
 With Amalek's ungracious progeny ; 
 
 Or, how the royal bard did groaning lie 
 Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire ; 
 
 Or Job's pathetic plaint, and wailing cry ; 
 Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire ; 
 Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre. 
 
 Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme, 
 How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed ; 
 
 How He, who bore in Heaven the second name, 
 Had not on earth whereon to lay his head : 
 How His first followers and servants sped ; 
 
 The precepts sage they wrote to many a land : 
 How he, who lone in Patmos banished, 
 
 Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand, 
 
 And heard great Bab' Ion's doom pronounc'd "by 
 Heaven's command. 
 
 Then kneeling down to Heaven's Eternal King, 
 
 The saint, the father, and the husband prays : 
 
 Hope "springs exulting on triumphant wing,"f 
 
 * Names of favorite Scottish psalm tunes. J. H. 
 t Pope's "Windsor Forest." R. B.
 
 a!T. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 185 
 
 That thus they all shall meet in future days, 
 
 There, ever bask in uncreated rays, 
 No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear, 
 
 Together hymning their Creator's praise, 
 In such society, yet still more dear ; 
 While circling Time moves round in an eternal sphere. 
 
 Compar'd with this, how poor Religion's pride, 
 
 In all the pomp of method, and of art ; 
 When men display to congregations wide 
 
 Devotion's every grace, except the heart ! 
 
 The Power, incens'd, the pageant will desert, 
 The pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole ; 
 
 But haply, in some cottage far apart, 
 May hear, well-pleas' d, the language of the soul ; 
 And in His Book of Life the inmates poor enroll. 
 
 Then homeward all take off their sev'ral way ; 
 
 The youngling cottagers retire to rest : 
 The parent-pair their secret homage pay, 
 
 And proffer up to Heaven the warm request, 
 
 That He who stills the raven's clam'rous nest, 
 And decks the lily fair in flow'ry pride, 
 
 Would, in the way His wisdom sees the best, 
 For them and for their little ones provide ; 
 But chiefly in their hearts with grace divine preside. 
 
 From scenes like these, old Scotia's grandeur springs, 
 That makes her lov'd at home, rever'd abroad: 
 
 Princes and lords are but the breath of kings,* 
 
 " An honest man's the noblest work of God ;"f 
 And certes, in fair virtue's heavenly road, 
 
 * " Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade ; 
 A breath can make them, as a breath has made." 
 
 GOLDSMITH'S Deserted Village. 
 fPope. Essay on Man.
 
 186 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785 
 
 The cottage leaves the palace far behind ; 
 
 What is a lordling's pomp? a cumbrous load, 
 Disguising oft the wretch of human kind, 
 Studied in arts of hell, in wickedness refined ! 
 
 O Scotia ! my dear, my native soil ! 
 
 For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent, 
 Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil 
 
 Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content] 
 
 And O ! may Heaven their simple lives prevent 
 From luxury's contagion, weak and vile ! 
 
 Then, howe'er crowns and coronets be rent, 
 A virtuous populace may rise the while, 
 And stand a wall of fire around their much-lov'd isle. 
 
 O Thou ! who pour'd the patriotic tide, 
 
 That stream' d thro' Wallace's undaunted heart, 2 
 
 Who dar'd to, nobly, stem tyrannic pride, 
 Or nobly die, the second glorious part : 
 (The patriot's God, peculiarly thou art, 
 
 His friend, inspirer, guardian, and reward !) 
 O never, never Scotia's realm desert ; 
 
 But still the patriot, and the patriot-bard 
 
 In bright succession raise, her ornament and guard ! 
 
 [That this poem was composed near the close of 1785, is proved 
 by the author's words in his letter to John Richmond, ijth Feb- 
 ruary, 1786. In that letter, the titles are given of five very important 
 poems, including " The Cotter's Saturday Night," which, " among 
 several others," he had composed since Richmond left Mauchline. 
 Lockhart has well said "'The Cotter's Saturday Night' is per- 
 haps, of all Burns' pieces, the one whose exclusion from the col- 
 lection, were such things possible now-a-days, would be most 
 injurious, if not to the genius, at least to the character of the 
 man." 
 
 The MS. copy of this poem, used by the printer of the Kil- 
 marnock edition of his poems, is now at Irvine, carefully preserved 
 by the Burns Club there, along with several other manuscripts. 
 A fac-simile of it was published by Mr. Maxwell Dick, of tha: 
 town, in 1840. An earlier copy is that which was presented to
 
 &t. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 187 
 
 Allan Cunningham in 1834 by his publisher, Mr. James Cochrane, 
 and is now in the British Museum, London. 
 
 The variations marked (*) and ( 2 ) were made by the author for 
 his edition of 1793: the latter originally read "great, unhappy 
 Wallace' heart," the change having been adopted to please Mrs. 
 Dunlop. The expression " kiaugh and care" ( J ) was at the same 
 time changed to "car king cares," to suit those who objected to 
 the word "kiaugh" as being too antiquated. In our text, we 
 adhere to the original words.] 
 
 The following is condensed from Allan Cunningham's very inter- 
 esting note on this poem : 
 
 When Burns was first invited to dine at Dunlop-house, a westlan 
 dame, who acted as housekeeper, appeared to doubt the propriety 
 of her mistress entertaining a mere ploughman who made rhymes, 
 as if he were a gentleman of old descent. By way of convincing 
 Mrs. M'Guistan, for that was her name, of the bard's right to such 
 distinction, Mrs. Dunlop gave her "The Cotter's Saturday Night" 
 to read. This was soon done : she returned the volume with a 
 strong shaking of the head, saying, "Nae doubt gentlemen and 
 ladies think mickle o' this, but for me it's naething but what I 
 saw i' my father's house every day, and I dinna see how he could 
 hae tauld it ony other way." 
 
 Of the origin of this poem, Gilbert Burns gives a clear account : 
 " Robert had frequently remarked to me that he thought there 
 was something peculiarly venerable in the phrase, ' Let us worship 
 God ! ' used by a decent, sober head of a family, introducing family 
 worship. To this sentiment of the Author the world is indebted 
 for 'The Cotter's Saturday Night.' Robert and I used frequently 
 to walk together, when the weather was favorable, on the Sunday 
 afternoons, and enjoyed such Sundays as would make one regret 
 to see their number abridged. It was in one of these walks that 
 I first heard him repeat 'The Cotter's Saturday Night.' I do not 
 recollect to have read or heard anything by which I was more 
 highly electrified. The fifth and sixth stanzas, and the eighteenth, 
 thrilled with peculiar ecstasy through my soul." The household 
 of the virtuous William Burness was the scene of the poem, and 
 William himself was the saint, and father, and husband of this 
 truly sacred drama. J. H.
 
 188 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. 
 
 ADDRESS TO THE DEIL. 
 (KH.MARNOCK ED., 1786.) 
 
 " O Prince ! O chief of many thron&d pow'rs ! 
 That led th 1 embattl'd seraphim to war " 
 
 Mn.TOW. 
 
 O THOU ! whatever title suit thee 
 
 Auld "Hornie," "Satan," "Nick," or "Clootie,"* 
 
 Wha in yon cavern grim an' sootie, who yonder 
 
 Clos'd under hatches, 
 Spairges about the brunstane cootie, f scatters 
 
 To scaud poor wretches ! 
 
 Hear me, auld " Hangie" for a wee, hangman 
 
 An' let poor damned bodies be ; 
 
 I'm sure sma 1 pleasure it can gie, small give 
 
 Ev'n to a deil, 
 To skelp an' scaud poor dogs like me, spank 
 
 An' hear us squeel ! 
 
 Great is thy pow'r an' great thy fame ; 
 
 Far kenn'd an' noted is thy name ; known 
 
 An' tho' yon lowin heugK's thy hame, blazing pit's 
 
 Thou travels far ; 
 
 An' faith ! thou's neither lag nor lame, laggard 
 
 Nor blate nor scaur. bashful. 
 
 apt to be scared/ 
 
 Whyles, raging like a roaring lion, at times 
 
 For prey, #' holes an' corners tryin ; aii 
 
 Whyles, on the strong-wing' d tempest flyin, 
 
 Tirlin the kirks ; unroofing 
 
 Whyles, in the human bosom pryin, 
 
 Unseen thou lurks. 
 
 Some of the names given to the D 1 in Scotland Hornie from his horns ; 
 clootie from his cloven feet or cloots. J. H. 
 
 t The poet imagines a foot-pail, called in Scotland a cootie, filled with liquid 
 brimstone, which Satan distributes over his victims. J. H.
 
 27.] 
 
 POEMS AND SONGS. 
 
 189 
 
 I've heard my rev' rend grannie 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, 
 
 Wi' eldritch croon.* 
 
 lonely 
 
 When twilight did my grannie summon, grand-dame 
 To say her pray'rs douce, honest woman ! decent 
 
 Aft 'yont the dyke she's heard you humming ** fence > 
 
 , .., . , buzzing/ 
 
 Wi eerie drone ; awe-producing 
 
 Or, rustlin, thro' the boortrees comin, eider-trees 
 
 Wi' heavy groan. 
 
 Ae dreary, windy, winter night, 
 
 The stars shot down wi' sklentin light, slanting 
 
 Wi' you mysel, I gat a fright, 
 
 Ayont the loch ; beyond 
 
 Ye, like a rash-buss, stood in sight, rush-bush 
 
 Wi' Wavin SOUgh dreary sighing, 
 sound [ 
 
 The cudgel in my nieve did shake, fiat 
 
 Each bristl'd hair stood like a stake, 
 
 When wi' an eldritch, f stoor "quaick, quaick," bass 
 
 Amang the springs, 
 Awa ye squatter* d like a drake, spluttered 
 
 On whistlin wings. 
 
 Let warlocks grim, an' wither' d hags, male witches 
 
 Tell how wi' you, on ragweed nags, 
 
 They skim the muirs an' dizzy crags, moot* 
 
 Wi' wicked speed ; 
 And in kirk-yards renew their leagues, 
 
 howket dead, over resurrected 
 
 * With mysteriously aweful hum. The word eldritch implies something super- 
 natural and frightful. J. H 
 fSee note on Stanza 5.
 
 190 
 
 POEMS AND SONGS. 
 
 [1785. 
 
 chum 
 taken away 
 
 Thence, countra wives, wi' toil an' pain, 
 May plunge an' plunge the kirn in vain ; 
 For oh ! the yellow treasures taen 
 
 By witchin skill ; 
 An' dawtet, twal-pint Hawkins gane petted cow gone 
 
 As yelPs the bill* dry buii 
 
 Thence, mystic knots mak great abuse 
 On young guidmen, fond, keen an' 
 
 When the best wark-lume i' the house, 
 By cantraip wit, 
 
 Is instant made no worth a louse, 
 
 Just at the bit. 
 
 magic slight 
 not 
 
 When thowes dissolve the snawy hoard, thaws wreaths 
 
 An' float the jinglin icy boord, f 
 
 Then, water-kelpies haunt the foord, water-spirits ford 
 
 By your direction, 
 And 'nighted trav'llers are allur'd 
 
 To their destruction. 
 
 And aft your moss-traversin " Spunkies" 
 Decoy the wight that late an' drunk i s : 
 The bleezin, curst, mischievous monkies 
 
 Delude his eyes, 
 Till in some miry slough he sunk is, 
 
 Ne" 1 er mair to rise. 
 
 oft) 
 iss/ 
 
 '^e wisps 
 biasing 
 
 never mor 
 
 When mason's mystic word an' grip 
 In storms an' tempests raise you up, 
 
 She gave twelve Scotch pints or twenty-four English quarts a day. The cow 
 is the most esteemed possession of the thrifty, well-doing Scotch peasant. It 
 supplies the " sowpe of kitchen" for his and his family's porridge, and keeps 
 them in butter and cheese. It and its products are therefore the favorite objects 
 of attack by malicious witches, and the good wife is always on the watch against 
 such. J. H. 
 
 t The icy board is called jingling in allusion to the sound it gives out when 
 curling-stones pass over it. J. H.
 
 t. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 191 
 
 Some cock or cat your rage maun stop, must 
 
 Or, strange to tell ! 
 
 The youngest "brither" ye wad whip pick up and carry 
 Aff straught to hell. straight 
 
 Lang syne in Eden's bonie yard, long ago 
 
 When youthfu' lovers first were pair'd, 
 An' all the soul of love they shar'd, 
 
 The raptur'd hour, 
 Sweet on the fragrant flow'ry swaird^ wrarf 
 
 In shady bow'r ; 
 
 Then you, ye auld, sneck-drawin* dog ! 
 Ye cam to Paradise incog, 
 
 An' play'd on man a cursed brogue, trick 
 
 (Black be your fc?f) doom 
 
 An' gied the infant warld a shog, gave shock 
 
 ruin'd a.' almost 
 
 D'ye mind that day when in a bizz bustle 
 
 Wi' reeket duds, an' reestet gizz, f 
 
 Ye did present your smootie phiz sooty 
 
 ' Mang better folk, among 
 
 An' sklented on the man of Uzz squinted 
 
 Your spitefu' joke?J 
 
 An' how he gat him z' your thrall, in 
 
 An' brak him out o' house an' haP , broke hold 
 
 While scabs an' botches did him gall, blotches 
 
 Wi' bitter claw ; scratching 
 
 An' lows* d his ill-tongu'd wicked scaul loosed) 
 
 scolding wife > 
 
 Was warst avat O f a ii 
 
 Sneck-drawin': drawing the sneck or latch stealthily and with thievish pur- 
 pose ; hence, insidious deceitful, treacherous. See note on " Nick-scraping " p, 
 2 8 5 .-J. H. 
 
 t With smoke stained rags and fire-shrivelled (literally roasted) face. J. H. 
 JJob x: 6-12.
 
 192 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. 
 
 But a' your doings to rehearse, 
 
 Your wily snares an' fechtin fierce, fighting 
 
 Sin' that day Michael * did you pierce, since 
 
 Down to this time, 
 Wad ding a Lallan tongue, or Erse, surpass lowland gaeik 
 
 In prose or rhyme. 
 
 An' now, auld (< Cloots," I ken ye' re thinkin, know 
 A certain bardie's rantin, drinkin, frolicking 
 
 Some luckless hour will send him linkin, in a hurry 
 
 To your black pit ; 
 But, faith ! he'll turn a corner jinkin. dodging 
 
 An' cheat you yet 
 
 But fare-you-weel, auld u Nickie-ben !" 
 
 O wad ye tak a thought and mend ! 
 
 Ye aiblins might I dinna ken perhaps don't know 
 
 Still hae a stake have 
 
 wae to think upo' yon den, i am sorry 
 
 Ev'n for your sake ! 
 
 [The only variation we have to record in connection with this 
 poem is in the seventh verse from the close, and it is a very 
 significant one. In the letter to John Richmond, of I7th Feb- 
 ruary, 1786, already alluded to in the note to "The Cotter's 
 Saturday Night," the poet hints at something disagreeable having 
 happened with respect to himself. The reference there was to an 
 occurrence which, shortly afterwards, led to a rupture between 
 Jean Armour and him. As the present poem then stood, the 
 verse indicated read as follows : 
 
 "Lang syne, in Eden's happy scene long ago 
 
 When strappin Adam's days were green, 
 And Eve was like my bonie Jean 
 
 My dearest part, 
 A dancin, sweet, young, handsome quean, girt 
 
 O guileless heart." 
 
 For that stanza, the one in the text was substituted when he 
 came to prepare the poem for the press. A similar obliteration 
 
 *Vide Milton, Book vi. R. B.
 
 JJT. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 193 
 
 of the name of Jeaii was made in the poem entitled "The Vision." 
 He would have deleted "the adored name" from the "Epistle to 
 Davie" also, we may be very certain, had it been possible to do 
 so without seriously injuring it. 
 
 This "Address to the Deil" is one of the author's most popular 
 pieces, and has been the theme of unmingled praise by critics. 
 The poet's relenting tenderness, even towards the author and per- 
 petual embodiment of evil, is a fine stroke at the close. "Humor 
 and tenderness," says Dr. Currie, "are here so happily intermixed, 
 that it is impossible to say which predominates."] 
 
 SCOTCH DRINK. 
 
 (KlLMARNOCK ED., 1786.) 
 
 Gie him strong- drink until he wink, give 
 
 That's sinking in despair; 
 An' liquor guid to fire his bluid, good blood 
 
 That's prest wi' grief an' ''are : 
 There let him bowse, an' deep carouse, drink freely 
 
 Wi' bumpers flowing o'er, 
 Till he forgets his loves or debts, 
 
 An* minds his griefs no more. 
 
 SOLOMON'S PROVERBS, -ml. 6, 7. 
 
 LET other poets raise a fracas 
 
 'Bout vines, an' wines, an' drucken Bacchus, drunken 
 
 An' crabbet names an' stories rack us, 
 
 An' grate our lug: ear 
 
 I sing the juice Scotch here can mak us, barley 
 
 In glass or jug.* 
 
 O thou, my muse ! guid auld Scotch drink ! 
 Whether thro' wimplin worms thou jink, winding steal 
 Or, richly brown, ream owre the brink, cream over 
 
 In glorious faem, foam 
 
 Inspire me, till I lisp an' wink, 
 
 To sing thy name ! 
 
 * In the form of whisky or beer. 
 I. M
 
 194 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. 
 
 Let husky wheat the haughs adorn, holme* 
 
 An' aits set up their awnie horn, oats bearded 
 
 An' pease an' beans, at e'en or morn, 
 
 Perfume the plain : 
 Leeze me on thee, John Barleycorn, commend me to 
 
 Thou king o' grain ! 
 
 On thee aft Scotland chows her cood, chews her cud 
 In souple scones,* the wale o' food! supple choice 
 Or tumblin in the boiling flood ! 
 
 Wi' kail an' beefjf 
 But when thou pours thy strong heart's blood, 
 
 There thou shines chie 
 
 Food fills the wame, an' keeps us leevin; beiiy living 
 
 Tho' life's a gift no worth receivin, 
 
 When heavy-dragg'd wi' pine an' grievin ; pain 
 
 But oil'd by thee, 
 The wheels o' life gae down-hill, scrievin, lidin g l 
 
 Wi' rattlin glee swiftly ) 
 
 Thou clears the head o' doited Lear ; dazed learning 
 
 Thou cheers the heart o' drooping Care ; 
 
 Thou strings the nerves o' Labor sair t ore 
 
 At's weary toil ; 
 Thou ev'n brightens dark Despair 
 
 Wi' gloomy smile. 
 
 Aft, clad in massy siller weed,J 
 
 Wi' gentles thou erects thy head ; people of condition 
 
 Yet, humbly kind in time o' need, 
 
 The poor man's wine ; 
 
 * Scones are soft cakes of barley-meal, or wheat flour, or oat-meal mixed with 
 potatoes, baked on the griddle. J. H. 
 
 f Broth made from barley boiled with kale and beef, is the national soup of 
 Scotland.J. H. 
 
 J Often.ia the form of ale, appearing in silver mugs. J. H.
 
 *J*. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 195 
 
 His wee drap parritch, or his bread, oat meai po.ridge 
 Thou kitchens fine.* relish 
 
 Thou art the life o' public haunts ; 
 
 But thee, what were our fairs and rants f without frolics 
 
 Ev'n godly meetings o' the saunts, saints 
 
 By thee inspir'd, 
 When, gaping, they besiege the tents, 
 
 Are doubly fir'd.f 
 
 That merry night we get the corn in,t 
 
 O sweetly, then, thou reams the horn in ! norn up f 
 
 Or reekin on a New-year mornin smoking 
 
 -, F F wooden mug) 
 
 In cog or bicker, bowif 
 
 An' just a wee drap sp 1 ritual burn in, little drop whisky 
 
 An' gUSty SUcker / toothful sugar 
 
 When Vulcan gies his bellows breath 
 
 An' ploughman gather wi' their graith, implement* 
 
 O rare ! to see thee fizz an' freath froth 
 
 I' th' lugget Caup! eared cup 
 
 Then Burnewin comes on like death blacksmith 
 
 At ev'ry chaup. stroke 
 
 Nae mercy, then, for aim or steel ; iron 
 
 The brawnie, bainie, ploughman chiel, large-boned lad 
 Brings hard owrehip, wi' sturdy wheel, 
 
 The strong forehammer, 
 
 Till block an' studdie ring an' reel, anvil 
 
 Wi' dinsome clamor. noisy 
 
 When skirlin weanies see the light, squalling infants 
 Thou maks the gossips clatter bright, 
 
 * Brisk small ale or beer is used in Scotland with porridge as well a* with 
 bread, in place of milk, when the cow is " yell." J. H. 
 fSee "The Holy Fair." 
 \ The Kirn or Harvest-Home. J. H. 
 \ Ale-posset with whisky added and sweetened with sugar. J. H.
 
 196 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. 
 
 How fumblin cuifs their dearies slight ; imbecile doits 
 Wae worth the name ! woe be to 
 
 Nae howdie gets a social night, midwife 
 
 Or plack frae them, penny from 
 
 When neibors anger at a plea, suit 
 
 An' just as wud as wud can be, mad 
 
 How easy can the barley-brie barley-juice (whisky) 
 
 Cement the quarrel ! 
 It's aye the cheapest lawyer's fee, 
 
 To taste the barrel. 
 
 Alake! that e'er my muse has reason, 
 To wyte her countrymen wi' treason ! 
 But mony daily weet their weason wet throat 
 
 Wi' liquors nice, 
 An' hardly, in a winter season, 
 
 E'er spier her price, ever ask 
 
 Wae worth that brandy, burning trash 
 
 Fell source o' mony a pain and brash! sudden attack 
 
 Twins mony a poor, doylt, drucken hash,* 
 
 O' half his days ; 
 An' sends, beside, auld Scotland's cash 
 
 To her warst foes. worst foes 
 
 Ye Scots, wha wish auld Scotland well ! who old 
 
 Ye chief, to you my tale I tell, 
 
 Poor, plackless devils like mysel ! penniless 
 
 It SetS yOU ill, ill becomes you 
 
 Wi' bitter, dearthfu 1 wines to mell, expensive meddle 
 Or foreign gill. 
 
 May gravels round his blather wrench, 
 An' gouts torment him inch by inch, 
 
 * Robs many a poor dazed, drunken fool.
 
 /BT. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 197 
 
 Wha twists his gruntle wi' a glunch mouth frown 
 O' sour disdain, 
 
 Out owre a glass o' whisky-punch over 
 
 Wi' 1 honest men ! with 
 
 O whisky ! soul o' plays and pranks ! 
 
 Accept a bar die" 1 s gratefu' thanks ! poet's 
 
 When wanting: thee, what tuneless cranks 
 
 sounds > 
 
 Are my poor verses ! 
 Thou comes they rattle i' their ranks 
 
 At ither's a s ! other's 
 
 Thee, Ferintosh ! * O sadly lost ! 
 
 Scotland lament frae coast to coast ! from 
 
 Now colic grips, an' barkin hoast congh 
 
 May kill us a'; 
 For loyal Forbes' charter' d boast 
 
 IS to 1 en awa / taken away 
 
 Thae curst horse -leeches o' th' Excise, these 
 
 Wha mak the whisky stells their prize ! stms 
 
 Hand up thy han'. Deil!f ance, twice, 
 thrice ! worthless ^ 
 
 There, seize the blinkers / lot / 
 An' bake them up in brunstane pies brimstone 
 
 For poor d n'd drinkers. 
 
 Fortune ! if thou'll but gie me still whole breech 
 Hale breeks, a scone, | au' whisky gill, bannock \ 
 
 * Whisky from a privileged distillery in the barony of Ferintosh, in Cromarty- 
 shire, belonging to Forbes of Culloden. The privilege was granted by an act of 
 the Scottish Parliament (1690), for services rendered by Forbes, and expenses 
 incurred, at the Revolution (1688), and was abolished by Parliament in 1785. 
 J. H. 
 
 t Hold up your hand, as if offering a bid for them and wanting them J. H. 
 
 J See stanza fourth.
 
 198 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. 
 
 An' rowth o' rhyme to rave at will, abundance 
 
 Tak a* the rest, takeaii 
 
 An' deal't about as thy blind skill 
 
 Directs thee best. 
 
 [Gilbert Burns, in his narrative of his brother's early life, thus 
 remarks on the subject of this poem: "Notwithstanding the 
 praise he has bestowed on ' Scotch Drink ' which seems to have 
 misled his historians I do not recollect, during these seven years 
 [the Tarbolton period], nor till towards the end of his com- 
 mencing author when his growing celebrity occasioned his being 
 often in company ^ to have ever seen him intoxicated, nor was 
 he at all given to drinking." Currie's Ed., 1801, vol. i., p. 73. 
 
 Robert Fergusson had composed verses, in the same measure, 
 on the subject of "Caller Water," and Burns, in search of a theme 
 to aid in filling his contemplated volume, took up "Scotch Drink." 
 He has not treated the topic as a temperance lecturer might have 
 done ; but the generous reader will be apt to say with Chambers 
 that "the humane passage in verse seventh redeems much that 
 may otherwise be objectionable in the poem." 
 
 The following variation occurs in verse twelve, in the first 
 edition : 
 
 Wae worth them for't ! 
 
 While healths gae round to him wha, tight, "fit" 
 
 Gies famous sport.] 
 
 (Mr. Waddell institutes a comparison between this poem of Burns 
 and Horace's odd Ad Amphorant, and indicates that the supe- 
 riority in humor and genial humanity lies with the Scottish bard. 
 There is, he says, " an admixture on Burns' side of deep and 
 gentle charity, that makes his humor like a pungent balm to the 
 ronsciences of mankind." J. H.)
 
 T. S7-J POEMS AND SONGS. 
 
 THE AULD FARMER'S NEW-YEAR MORNING 
 
 SALUTATION TO HIS AULD 
 
 MARE, MAGGIE, 
 
 Ou giving her the accustomed ripp of corn to hansel in the New Year. 
 (KH.MARNOCK ED., 1786.) 
 
 A GUID New-year I wish thee Maggie ! 
 
 Hae, there's a ripp to thy auld baggie: handful stomach 
 
 Tho' thou's&?ze^-&z<:/hVnow, an' knagg 
 
 I've seen the day 
 Thou could hae gaen like ony staggie, 
 
 Out-owre the lay. over lea 
 
 Tho, now thou's dowie, stiff an' crazy, spiritless worn out 
 
 An' thy auld hide as white's a daisie, 
 
 I've seen thee dapp^t, sleek an' glaizie, dappled glossy 
 
 A bonie gray : fit 
 
 He should been ticht that daur>t to raize thee, **"*r 
 
 . rouse.) 
 
 A nee in a day. once on a time 
 
 Thou ance was t* the foremost rank, in 
 
 A filly buirdly, steeve an' swank; stately firm agile 
 An' set weel down a shapely shank, 
 
 As e'er tread yirdf earth 
 An' could hae flown out-owre a stank^ ditch or pool 
 
 Like ony bird. any 
 
 It's now some nine-an' -twenty year, 
 
 -,. , , . - J father-in-laWs 
 
 Sin' thou was is.y gmd-father* s meere ; mare / 
 
 He gied me thee, <?' tocher clear, gave of dowry 
 
 An' fifty mark ; * 
 
 Tho' it was sma', 'twas weel- won gear, money 
 
 An' thou was stark. strong 
 
 A Scotch coin worth 13*. 4^. Scotch, or w. i#rf. English or a6# cent*. J. H,
 
 200 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. 
 
 When first I gaed to woo my Jenny \ went janet 
 Ye then was trottin wi' your minnie : dam 
 
 Tho' ye was trickle', slee, an' funnie, siy 
 
 Ye ne'er was donsze; mischievous 
 But hamely, tawie^ quiet, an' cannie, tractable gentle 
 
 An' UnCO SOnSie. in high condition 
 
 That day, ye pranc'd wi' muckle pride, much 
 
 When ye bure hame my bonie bride : bow 
 
 An' sweet an' gracefu' she did ride, 
 
 Wi' maiden air! 
 Kyle-Stewart* I could bragget wide, 
 
 For sic a pair. 
 
 Tho' now ye dow but hoyte and hobble can limp 
 An' wintle like a saumont-coble^ rock salmon-boat 
 That day, ye was zjinker noble, runner 
 
 For heels an' win' \ prfh 
 
 wind / 
 
 An* ran them till they a' did wauble^ red 
 
 Far, far behin' ! 
 
 When thou an' I were young an' skiegh^ 
 
 An' stable-meals\ at fairs were ^^^ 
 
 How thou wad prance, an' snore, an' skriegh. neigh i 
 
 ' shrilly / 
 
 An' tak the road ! 
 Town's-bodies ran, an' stood abiegh^ out of the way 
 
 An 1 ca't thee mad. caiie<j 
 
 When thou was corn't, an' I was mellow, J 
 We took the road aye like a swallow: 
 
 See note, page 203. 
 
 t The stable-meal is the " gill " drunk after ordering the horse to be brought 
 out of the stable, and just before setting out homeward. But when one good 
 fellow orders his "gill" or " half-mutchkin," and another his, the "meal "is apt 
 to become " dreigh." J. H. 
 
 t When you had got your starting feed of oats, and I was mellow with th 
 " stable-meal " and its accompaniments. J. H.
 
 JCf. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 201 
 
 At brooses* thou had ne'er a fellow, 
 
 For pith an' speed ; 
 
 But ev'ry tail thou pay>t them hollow, beat 
 
 Where'er thou gaed. went 
 
 The sma 1 , droop-rumpl't, hunter cattle 
 
 Might aiblins waur't thee for a brattle; dash} 
 
 But sax Scotch mile, thou try't their mettle, 
 
 An' gar't them whaizle .-made wheeze 
 
 Nae whip nor spur, but just a -wattle supple wand 
 
 O' saugh or hazle. 
 
 Thou was a noble * fittie-lan',f 
 
 As e'er in tug or tow was drawn ! ***** 
 
 Aft thee an' I, in aught hours' gaun^ go i nff (,- plough)} 
 
 In guid March-weather, 
 Hae turned sax rood beside our hanj ploughed six roods 
 
 For days thegither. together 
 
 Thou never braing*^ an' fetcttt^ an' plunged jibbed 
 
 fltsket ; fretted 
 
 But thy auld tail thou wad hae whisket, have whisked 
 An' spread abreed thy weel-fill'd brisket, abroad breast 
 
 Wi' pith an' power ; 
 Till sprittie knowes wad rair't an' risket, 
 
 An' slypet owre. % 
 
 When frosts lay lang an' snaws were deep, 
 An' threaten' d labor back to keep, 
 I gied thy cog a wee bit heap feed-dish 
 
 Aboon the timmer: wooden edge 
 
 On bringing home a bride from where the marriage was celebrated It wmt 
 customary to have a race, when he who reached the house first won the prixe 
 a kiss of the bride. J. H. 
 
 | The near horse of the hindmost pair in ploughing. 
 
 1 Till knolls tough with roots would roar and crackle as they were torn up, cd 
 the clods fall smoothly over. J. H.
 
 202 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. 
 
 I keifd my Maggie wad na sleep, knew 
 
 For that, or simmer.* before summe* 
 
 In cart or car thou never reestet; balked 
 
 The steyest brae thou wad hae fac't it ; steepest hiii 
 
 Thou never lap^ an' stenned^ an' leapt strained 
 
 breasted plunged 
 
 Then stood to blaw ; 
 But just thy step a wee thing hastet, 
 
 ThoU SnOOtft aW a. smoothly on J 
 
 My "pleugh" is now thy bairn-time a',f 
 
 Four gallant brutes as e'er did draw ; 
 
 Forbye sax mae I've sellt awa } six more *>idoflr 
 
 That thou hast nurst : 
 They drew me thretteen pund an* twa^ fifteen pounds 
 
 The very warst. worst 
 
 Mony a sair daurg we twa hae wrought, hard day's work 
 An' wi j the weary wart fought 1 with world 
 
 An' mony an anxious day, I thought, 
 
 We wad be beat ! wouia 
 
 Yet here to crazy age we're brought, 
 
 Wi' something yet 
 
 An* think na\ my auld trusty servan', don't think 
 That now perhaps thotfs less deservin thou art 
 
 An* thy auld days may end in starvin ; 
 
 For my \ask fow^ bushel 
 
 A heapet stimpart^\ I'll reserve ane H of a bushel 
 
 Laid by for you. 
 
 * She would repay his kindness by faithful work In Spring. J. H. 
 t All the four horses now working in my plough are your progeny. J. H. 
 J The old man would reserve a stimpart or good feed from his very last bushel 
 for his faithful old horse. J. H.
 
 CO 
 
 O 
 O 
 
 Q 
 
 W 
 
 ffi 
 H
 
 T. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 203 
 
 We've worn to crazy years thegither j 
 
 We'll toyte about wi' ane anither; totter, oneanothet 
 
 Wi' tentie care I'll flit thy tether watchcm 
 
 To some hairtd rig, 
 Whare ye may nobly rax your leather , stretch your skin 
 
 Wi' sma' fatigue. 
 
 [Our poet seems to have "hansel'd" the eventful year 1786 with 
 this poem, which is executed in his very best manner. Professo* 
 Wilson, in his famed Essay on Burns, declares that, to his knowledge, 
 the recital of it has brought tears of pleasure to the eyes, and "hu- 
 oanised the heart of a Gilmerton carter."] 
 
 THE TWA DOGS : 
 
 A TALK. 
 (KlLMARNOCK ED., 1786.) 
 
 'TwAS in that place o' Scotland's Isle, 
 That bears the name o' auld "King Coil,"* 
 Upon a bonie day in June, 
 
 When wearin thro 1 the afternoon, somewhat late in 
 Twa dogs, that were na thrang at hame, busy 
 Forgathered ance upon a time. encountered once 
 
 The first I' 11 name, they ca 1 d him ' ' Caesar, ' ' called 
 Was keepet for "his Honor's" pleasure: 
 His hair, his size, his mouth, his lugs^ ea 
 
 Shew'd he was nane o' Scotland's dogs; 
 But whalpet some place far abroad, wheipea 
 
 Whare sailors gang to fish for cod.f go 
 
 * The district of Kyle in Ayrshire, the central division of the county, and sepa- 
 rated from Carrick on the south by the Boon, and from Cunningham on the 
 nortn by the Irvine. Within this district Burns was born and lived, except the 
 few months he was at school at Kirkoswald, until he went to reside permanently 
 in Dumfries-shire. The reader will find a poetical outline of this region as de- 
 pictedon the Muse's robe of Coila in the "Vision." Its name is traditionally said 
 to be derived from Coilus, a pre-historic Pictish sovereign entombed, according 
 to popular belief, near the old mansion of Coilsfield. In 1837 careful excavations 
 discovered calcined remains buried here in earthen urns, which represented un- 
 questionably some hero of the primitive race. Coilsfield, the Bloody Burn and 
 the Dead Man's Holm are names still attached to the locality. For the abov* 
 interesting note we are largely indebted to WaddelL J. H. 
 
 t Newfoundland.
 
 204 POEMS AND SONGS. [17861 
 
 His locked, letter' d, braw brass collar 
 Shew'd him the gentleman an' scholar; 
 But though he was o' high degree, 
 The fient a pride, nae pride had he ; deuce a particle ot 
 But wad hae spent an hour caressin, would have 
 Ev'n wi' a tinkler-gipsey's messan: cur 
 
 At kirk or market, mill or smiddie, smithy 
 
 Nae tawted tyke^ tho' e'er sae duddie, *>*.&. cur ragged 
 But he wad stand, as glad to see him, 
 An' stroarfd on stanes an' hillocks wi' him. urinated 
 
 The tither was a ploughman's collie 
 A rhyming, ranting, roving billie^ fellow 
 
 Wha for his friend an' comrade had him, 
 And in his freaks had "L,uath" cd>d him, named 
 After some dog in Highland sang,f 
 Was made lang syne L,ord knows how lang. long sin*; 
 
 He was a gash an' faithfu' tyke> sagacious dog 
 As ever lap a sheugh or dyke. ditch fence 
 
 His honest, sonsie, haws'* nt face happy white-striped 
 Ay gat him friends in ilka place ; every 
 
 His breast was white, his tousie back shaggy 
 
 Weel clad wi' coat o' glossy black ; 
 
 His gaWSie tail, Wi' Upward CUrl, large handsome 
 
 Hung owre his hurdies wi' a swirl. over hips 
 
 Nae doubt but they werey#z 0' ither, eJ^h'erl 
 
 And UnCO Pack an 1 thick theglther ; friendly and intimate 
 Wi' Social nOSe Whyles Snuffed an* sometimes smelled) 
 
 snowket; and poke ^ oles 
 
 Whyles mice an' moudieworts they howket; dug up) 
 Whyles scour' d awa' in lang excursion, sometimes 
 An' worry 'd ither in diversion ; each other 
 
 Till tir'd at last wi' mony a farce, 
 They set them down upon their arse, 
 
 Burns himself. 
 
 t Cnchullin's -dog in Ossian's "Fingal." R. B. The reference made to the in- 
 definite antiquity of Highland song seems to indicate Burns' acquaintance with 
 the controversy then going on relative to the genuineness of the Poems of Ossian, 
 and his faith therein. J. H.
 
 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 205 
 
 An' there began a lang digression 
 About the "lords o' the creation." 
 
 I've aften wonder' d, honest Luath, 
 What sort o' life poor dogs like you have ; 
 An' when the gentry's life I saw, 
 What way poor bodies liv'd ava. atn 
 
 Our laird gets in his racked rents 
 His coals, his kane, an' a' his stents* 
 He rises when he likes himsel ; 
 His flunkies answer at the bell ; 
 He ca> s his coach ; he ca's his horse ; cans 
 
 He draws a bonie silken purse, 
 As lang's my tail, whare, thro' the sleeks, stitches 
 The yellow lettered Geordie\ keeks, stamped guinea peps 
 Frae morn to e'en it's nought but toiling, 
 At baking, roasting, frying, boiling ; 
 
 S ' } & ' panting from) 
 
 An' tho' the gentry first are stechm, over-feeding ) 
 Yet ev'n the ha? folk fill their pechan servants stomach 
 Wi' sauce, ragouts, an' sic like trashtrie, trash 
 That's little short o' downright wastrie, waste 
 
 Our whipper-in, wee, blastet wonner, blasted little sinner 
 Poor, worthless elf, it eats a dinner, 
 Better than ony tenant-man 
 
 His Honor has in a' the Ian* : the estate 
 
 An' what poor cot-folk pit their painch in, put paunch 
 I own it's past my comprehension. 
 
 LUATH. 
 Trowth. Caesar, whyles. they're fasftt indeed-* 
 
 * J sometimes \- 
 
 eneugh : perpied) 
 
 A cotter howkin in a sheugh, digging ditch 
 
 * Stents : assessments, especially in labor or produce, imposed on tenants. Be- 
 sides rent, a laird had several claims on his tenants. They had to draw his coals, 
 supply a certain amount of produce (especially fowls) from the farm under the 
 name of " Kane," often to assist in securing his harvest, to furnish a certain 
 amount of turf or peats, etc. J. H. 
 
 t See p. 68.
 
 206 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. 
 
 Wi' dirty stanes biggin a dyke, bunding fence 
 
 Baring a quarry, and sic like ; uncovering such 
 
 Himsel, a wife, he thus sustains, 
 
 A Smytrie O' Wee duddie WeanS, tribe ragged children 
 
 An' nought but his hari'-daurg, to keep hand's labor 
 Them right an' tight in thack art rape.* uatchandj 
 
 An when they meet wi' sair disasters, 
 Like loss o' health or want o' masters, 
 Ye maist wad think, a wee touch langer almost would 
 An' they maun starve o' cautdand hunger : must cold 
 But how it comes, I never kent yet, knew 
 
 They're maistly wonderfu' contented 
 An' buirdly chiels, an' clever hizsies, stately fellows giria 
 Are bred in sic a way as this is. such 
 
 But then to see how ye' re neglecket, 
 How huffd, an' cuff'd, an' disrespecket I 
 L d man, our gentry care as little 
 For delvers, ditchers, an' sic cattle ; 
 They gang as saucy by poor folk, go past 
 
 As I wad by a stinking brock. badger 
 
 I've notic'd on our laird's court- day, rent-day 
 An' mony a time my heart's been wae^ sad 
 Poor tenant bodies, scant o' cash, 
 How they maun thole a factor's snash insolence/ 
 He'll stamp an' threaten, curse an' swear 
 
 attach \ 
 
 He'll apprehend them, poind their gear; property* 
 While they maun stan', wi' aspect humble, 
 An' hear it a', an' fear an' tremble !f 
 I see how folk live that hae riches; 
 But surely poor-folk maun be wretches ! must 
 
 "Tight in thack and rape" is a Scottish phrase equivalent to "in propet 
 condition." It dates back to the days when all houses were thatched, and to b 
 " tight in thack and rape " was the one grand desideratum. J. H. 
 
 f Described from his father's experience in Mount Oliphant J. H.
 
 ^T. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 207 
 
 UJATH. 
 
 They're no sae wretched' s ane wad one would 
 
 think ; 
 
 Tho' constantly on poor tithes brink, poverty-* 
 
 They're sae accustom' d wi' the sight, 
 The view o't gies them little fright. gives 
 
 Then chance and fortune are sae guided, 
 They're ay in less or mair provided ; 
 An' tho' fatigu'd wi' close employment, 
 A blink o' rest's a sweet enjoyment 
 
 The dearest comfort o' their lives, 
 Their grushie weans an' faithfu' wives ; thriving children 
 The prattling things are just their pride, 
 That sweetens a' their fire-side. 
 
 An' whyles twalpennie * worth o' nappy sometimes ale 
 Can mak the bodies unco happy : good folks wonderfully 
 They lay aside their private cares, 
 To mind the Kirk and State affairs ; 
 They'll talk o' patronage an' priests, 
 Wi' kindling fury i' their breasts, f 
 Or tell what new taxation's comin, 
 An' ferlie at the folk in Lon'on. marvel 
 
 As bleak-fac'd Hallowmass returns. A J^^} 
 They get the jovial, rantin kirns, frolicsome harvest homes 
 When rural life, of ev'ry station, 
 Unite in common recreation ; glances from the eye) 
 
 Love blinks, Wit slaps, an' social Mirth hita ' 
 
 Forgets there's Care upo' the earth. 
 
 * Scotch money was worth just one-twelfth of English money of the same name. 
 Twelvepence Scotch was, therefore, just equal to one penny sterling, or two 
 cents. J. H. 
 
 f-This is another example of Burns' marvellous power in catching the charac- 
 teristics of the Scottish peasantry and depicting these by brief happy touches. 
 Their fondness for polemical discussion is probably the most prominent feature 
 in their mental character. Their very interest in religion leads them to criticize 
 their ministers freely, often severely, and to denounce what they regard as abuses 
 in the church with bitterness. Patronage, or the right of one land-owner (called 
 the patron) to present a minister to a charge despite the wishes of the people 
 has always been the object of their special abhorrence, and the cause of every 
 disruption in the church. It is now abolished. J. H.
 
 208 
 
 POEMS AND SONGS. 
 
 [1786 
 
 winds 
 
 creamy froth 
 
 That merry day the year begins, 
 They bar the door on frosty win's ; 
 The nappy reeks wi' mantling ^0w 
 
 Cf '' ... 
 
 An' sheds a heart-inspiring steam ; 
 
 The luntin pipe, an' sneeshin mill, glowing snuff-muii 
 
 Are handed round wi' right guid will ; 
 
 The cantie auld folks crackin crouse, conve 
 
 The young anes ranting thro' the house 
 
 My heart has been sae fain to see them, 
 
 That I for joy hae barket wi' 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, fawsont folk, 
 Are riven out baith root an' branch, 
 Some rascal's pridefu' greed to quench, 
 Wha thinks to knit himsel the faster 
 In favor wi' some gentle master, 
 Wha, aiblins thrang a parliamentin', 
 For Britain's guid his saul indentin' 
 
 frolicking 
 
 too 
 such 
 
 seemly 
 both 
 
 aristocratic 
 
 perhaps busy 
 
 soul 
 
 C^SSAR. 
 
 Haith, lad, ye little ken about it : faith know 
 For Britain's guid ! guid faith ! I doubt it 
 Say rather, gaun as Premiers lead him : going 
 
 An' saying aye or no 's they bid him : 
 At operas an' plays parading, 
 Mortgaging, gambling, masquerading, 
 Or maybe, in a frolic daft, fooiisb 
 
 To Hague or Calais takes a waft, 
 To mak a tour an' tak a whirl, 
 To learn bon ton, an' see the worl'. 
 
 There, at Vienna or Versailles, 
 He rives his father's auld entails ; * tears p old 
 
 * The law of entail was one by which the proprietor of an estate was debarred 
 from selling it or any part of it, or even from indebting it beyond his own life- 
 time, so that every new heir received it unburdened and undiminished. This 
 law, and that of primogeniture, were the means by which the great estates of
 
 J3T. 28.] POEMS AND SONG& 209 
 
 Or by Madrid lie takes the route 
 
 To thrum guitars an' fecht wl nowt; fight with buiia 
 
 Or down Italian vista startles, 
 
 Wh-re-hunting amang groves o' myrtles : 
 
 Then bowses drumlie German water, swiiis muddy 
 
 To mak himsel look fair an' fatter, 
 
 An' clear the consequential sorrows, 
 
 Love-gifts of Carnival signoras. 
 
 For Britain's guid ! for her destruction I 
 Wi' dissipation, feud an' faction. 
 
 LUATH. 
 
 Hech man ! dear sirs ! is that the gate aias way 
 They waste sae mony a braw estate ! fine 
 
 Are we sae foughten an' harass' d so toiled 
 
 For gear to gang that gate at last? money go 
 
 O would they stay aback frae courts, from 
 
 An' please themsels wi' countra sports, 
 It wad for ev'ry ane be better, would 
 
 The laird, the tenant, an' the cotter ! land-owner 
 For thae frank, rantin\ ramblin' these frolicsome 
 billies, feiiows 
 
 Fient haet o 1 them's ill-hearted fellows ; not a whit of 
 Except for breakin o' their timmer,* 
 Or speakin lightly o' their limmer, mistress 
 
 Or shootin of a hare or moor-cock, f 
 The ne'er-a-bit they're ill to poor folk. 
 
 But will ye tell me, master Caesar, 
 Sure great folk's life 's a life o' pleasure? 
 Nae cauld nor hunger e'er can steer them, ~ ld l 
 
 ' molest) 
 
 The vera thought o't need na fear them. 
 
 Britain were kept entire. There were devices costly and hard to carry out by 
 which a proprietor in desperate circumstances might in certain contingencies 
 break the entail, but the doing so was always regarded as a proof of great ex- 
 travagance generally of dissipation and unjust to his descendants. The law is 
 now much modified and will probably soon be removed from the Statute Book. 
 -I. H. 
 
 * Stealing firewood from their plantations. J. H. 
 
 fPoaching. J. H. 
 
 I. N
 
 210 POEMS AND SONGS, [1786 
 
 C^SAR. 
 
 Iv d, man, were ye but whyles whare sometimes 
 
 I am, 
 The gentles, ye wad ne'er envy* them ! people of station 
 
 It's true, they need na starve or sweat, not 
 
 Thro' winter's cauld, or simmer's heat ; cold 
 
 They've nae sair-wark to erase their hard work) 
 
 * wear out > 
 
 banes, 
 
 An' fill auld-age wi' grips an' granes : groans 
 
 But human bodies are sic fools, creatures such 
 
 For a' their colleges an' schools, 
 That when nae real ills perplex them, 
 They mak enow themsels to vex them ; 
 An' ay the less they hae to sturt them, have distress 
 In like proportion less will hurt them. 
 
 A country fellow at the pleugh, 
 His acre's till'd, he's right eneugh ; 
 A country girl at her wheel, 
 
 Her dizzen 1 s done, f she's uncoweel; dozen au right 
 But gentlemen, an' ladies warst, worst 
 
 Wi' ev'n-down want o' wark are curst 
 They loiter, lounging, lank an' lazy ;' listless 
 
 Tho' deil-haet ails them, yet uneasy : d i a whit 
 Their days insipid, dull and tasteless ; 
 Their nights unquiet, lang an' restless. 
 
 An' ev'n their sports, their balls an' races, 
 Their galloping through public places, 
 There's sic parade, sic pomp an' art, 
 The joy can scarcely reach the heart. 
 
 The men cast-out in party matches, quarrel 
 
 Then sowther a' in deep debauches. solder 
 
 Ae night they're mad wi' drink an' wh-ring, one 
 Niest day their life is past enduring. next 
 
 * Accent on last syllable of envy. J. H. 
 
 f A dozen cuts of one hundred and twenty threads each was the prescribed 
 quantity a country servant lass had to spin after accomplishing her household 
 work. J. H.
 
 ^tT. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 2H 
 
 The ladies arm-in-arm in clustery 
 As great an' gracious a' as sisters ; 
 But hear their absent thoughts d 1 ither, ofeachothet 
 They're a' run deils* an' jads thegither. jades together 
 WJiyles, owre the wee bit cup an' platie, som 2^1 
 They sip the scandal-potion pretty ; 
 
 r^ 7 7 ' J* > UV t 7 1 whole nights long i 
 
 Or lee-lang mghts, wi crabbet leuks looks ; 
 
 Pore owre the devil's pictur'd beuks ;f ovet 
 
 Stake on a chance a farmer's stackyard, barnyard 
 An' cheat like ony unhang' d blackguard. 
 
 There's some exceptions, man an' woman ; 
 But this is gentry's life in common. 
 
 JBy this, the sun was out o' sight, 
 An' darker gloaming brought the night ; twilight 
 The bum-clock humm' d wi' lazy drone ; night-beetie 
 The kye stood rowtin i' the loan ; cows lowing lane 
 When up they gat, an' shook their lugs, got ean 
 Rejoic'd they were na men, but dogs ; 
 An' each took aff his several way, 
 Resolv'd to meet some ither day. 
 
 ["The tale of 'Twa Dogs' was composed after the resolution 
 of publishing was nearly taken. Robert had had a dog which he 
 called 'Luath,' that was a great favorite. The dog had been killed 
 by the wanton cruelty of some person the night before my father's 
 death. Robert said to me that he should like to confer such 
 immortality as he could bestow upon his old friend Luath, and 
 that he had a great mind to introduce something into the book 
 under the title of ' Stanzas to the memory of a quadruped friend ; ' 
 but this plan was given up for the tale as it now stands. 'Caesar' 
 
 *D Ps or imps just escaped from their proper home. J. H. 
 
 t Cards are called in Scotland the " Deil's picture-books." J. H. 
 
 J " The greatest masters of landscape and animal painting," says Waddell, "by 
 their combined efforts could produce no finer representation (of evening) than 
 that which follows in the four succeeding lines. There is not, in the whole coin- 
 pass of Shakspeare a more perfect picture, including figure, color, action, time, 
 and sound, with moral sense conjoined, than is here presented in some two-score 
 words : yet the whole concluding portion of this wonderful work was dashed ofi 
 most probably during an evening's walk or ride from Kilmarnock to Mossgiel, 
 in child-like acquiescence with the suggestions of a printer, and to meet the 
 requirements of the compositor when his operations began."
 
 212 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. 
 
 merely the cieature of the poet's imagination, created for the 
 purpose of holding chat with his favorite LmatkS* Letter of Gilbert 
 ./fonts, voL iiL, Appendix, Clime's Ed, 
 
 The main object of this poem. Dr. Cnrrie has reiru I ;eens 
 to be to inculcate a lesson of cffntnitiiieaL on the lower classes 
 of society, by shewing that their superiors are neither much better 
 nor happier than themselves. ... The dogs of Barns, excepting 
 in th^ir talent lor moralizing, are downright dogs, and not, Klr^ 
 the horses of Swift, and 'Hind and Panther* of Dryden, men in 
 t'np siiape of brutes." 
 
 The first variation we have to notice is in the sixth paragraph 
 of the poem, some of the poefs more squeamish critics having 
 prevailed on him to rhange a very simple, natural and graphic 
 couplet to a very lain** and tiK"ipi cAMf <. one. Accordingly, in the 
 edition of 1793, instead of the lines in our text, we read as 
 follows ; 
 
 U*ffi wF diftm weny grown. 
 Upon a knove they sat them dovoi: 
 
 and. front one of his manuscripts of that period, it *"**'' be 
 inferred that the alteration cost him some trouble, as the 
 line there reads thus: 
 
 Tin tired at tat, *md veuy gravm. 
 
 Some dose observer of the canine species has remarked tha 
 never choose a "knowe" to sit on. The poefs pictnre oogfat not 
 to have been meddled with. 
 
 The second variation is found in the edition of 1786, where, 
 of the improvevi text, we read thu5 :
 
 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 213 
 
 THE AUTHOR'S EARNEST CRY AND PRAYER. 
 
 TO THE SCOTCH REPRESENTATIVES IN THE HOUSE Of 
 
 COMMONS.* 
 
 (KlLMARNOCK ED., 1786.) 
 
 Dearest of distillation ! last and best 
 How art them lost! 
 
 PARODY ON MILTON. 
 
 YE Irish lords, ye knights an' squires, 
 
 Wha represent our brughs an' shires, 
 
 An' daucely manage our affairs soberly 
 
 In parliament, 
 To you a simple poet's pray'rs 
 
 Are humbly sent 
 
 Alas ! my roopet f muse is hearse / cnmpy hoarse 
 Your Honors' hearts wi' grief nwad pierce, it would 
 To see her sittin on her arse 
 
 Low i' the dust, 
 And scriechin out prosaic verse, screeching 
 
 An' like to brust I bunt 
 
 Tell them wha hae the chief direction, 
 Scotland an' me's in great affliction, 
 
 This was written before the Act anent the Scotch distilleries, of session 1786, 
 for which Scotland and the Author return their most grateful thanks. R. B. In 
 1785 loud complaints were made by the Scotch distillers respecting the vexatious 
 and oppressive manner in which, at the instigation of London distillers, the ex- 
 cise laws were enforced at their establishments. Many distillers forsook the 
 trade, and the price of barley was affected, while illicit distillation increased 
 alarmingly. In 1786 an act was passed discontinuing the duties on low wines 
 and spirits, and substituting an annual tax on stills according to their capacity. 
 This act gave general satisfaction. This poem is an expression of the poet's 
 feeling in regard to fiscal oppression, and was written end of 1785 or beginning 
 of 1786, during the controversy. J. H. 
 
 fRoopit means affected with that peculiar hoarseness, resulting from over- 
 straining the voice, and is from the same root as the Dutch roepen, to cry aloud, 
 and Scotch roup, an auction. His muse had been "scriechin" so long that she 
 became " roopit." J. H.
 
 214 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. 
 
 E'er sin' they laid that curst restriction 
 
 On aqua-vita ; whisky 
 
 An' rouse them up to strong conviction, 
 An' move their pity. 
 
 Stand forth, an' tell yon Premier youth * 
 
 The honest, open, naked truth : 
 
 Tell him o' mine an' Scotland's drouth, thirst 
 
 His servants humble : 
 The muckle deevil blaw ye south, 
 
 If ye dissemble I 
 
 Does ony great man glunch an' gloom ? frown 
 
 Speak out, an' never fash your thumb ! trouble 
 Let posts an' pensions sink or soom swim 
 
 Wi' them wha grant them ; 
 If honestly they canna come, cannot 
 
 Far better want them. 
 
 In gath'rin votes you were na slack ; noi 
 
 Now stand as tightly by your tack: bargain 
 
 Ne'er claw your lug. an' fidge your back, scr&te}l ear l 
 
 shrug ) 
 
 An' hum an' haw ; 
 
 But raise your arm, an' tell your crack 
 Before them a'. 
 
 Paint Scotland greetin owre her thrissle ; 
 
 Her mutchin stowp as foam's a whissle ; whiskv fla s n } 
 
 A , j ., . . , , empty as) 
 
 An' d mn d excisemen in a bussle, 
 
 Seizin a stell, tm 
 
 Triumphant, crushin't like a mussel, 
 
 Or limpet shell, f 
 
 Mr. Pitt, who was premier at the age of twenty-five. He was born in the 
 ame year with Burns 1759. J. H. 
 
 tAt this time Burns had no expectation he was to be an exciseman himself, 
 and a ?ery inflexible one (except to struggling poverty) at that J. H.
 
 28.] 
 
 POEMS AND SONGS. 
 
 215 
 
 other 
 
 conspiring 
 pocket 
 
 Then, on the tither hand, present her 
 A blackguard smuggler right behint her, 
 An' cheek-for-choW) a chuffie vintner, 
 
 Colleaguing join. 
 Pickin' her pouch as bare as winter 
 
 Of a' kind coin. 
 
 Is there, that bears the name o' Scot, 
 But feels his heart's bluid rising hot, 
 To see his poor auld mither's pot 
 
 Thus dung in staves, 
 An' plunder' d o' her hindmost groat,* 
 
 By gallows knaves? 
 
 Alas ! I'm but a nameless wight, 
 Trode i' the mire f out o' sight ! 
 But could I like Montgomeries i fight, 
 
 \ VI TJ ^.^ .speak briskly 1 
 
 Or gab like Boswell, oat J 
 There's some sark-necks I wad draw tight, 
 An' tie some hose well. 
 
 knocked 
 
 would 
 
 God bless your Honors ! can ye see't 
 
 The kind, auld, cantie carlin greet^ cheerful oid> 
 
 An' no get warmly to your feet, "** weep ' 
 
 An' gar them hear it. compel them 
 An' tell them wi' a patriot-heat, 
 
 Ye winna bear it? win not 
 
 Some o' you nicely ken the laws, 
 To round the period an' pause, 
 An' with rhetoric clause on clause 
 
 To mak harangues : 
 Then echo thro' Saint Stephens wa?s 
 
 Auld Scotland's wrangs. 
 
 TT ic^ f i 
 
 parliament/ 
 
 A Scotch coin reproduced in the English fourpenny bit J. H. 
 fThe rhythm here demands that this monosyllable be enunciated as two syV- 
 lables. 
 
 t The Montgomeries of Coilsfield. 
 \ Boswell of Auchinleck, an Ayrshire laird, and the biographer of Johnson.
 
 216 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. 
 
 Dempster,* a true bluef Scot I'se warran ; 
 Thee, az/^-detesting, chaste Kilkerran ; | oath 
 
 An' that glib-gabbet Highland baron, ready-tongued 
 
 The Laird o' Graham, 
 An' ane. a chap that's d mn'd auldfarran feiiow) 
 
 j % sagacious) 
 
 Dundas his name : 
 
 Erskine, a spunkie Norland bittie ;** 
 
 True Campbells, Frederick and Hay ; ft 
 
 An' Livistone, the bauld Sir Willie ; \\ bold 
 
 An' mony ithers^ others 
 
 Whom auld Demosthenes or Tully 
 
 Might own for brithers. brothers 
 
 See, sodger Hugh, my watchman soldier 
 
 stented, || || bound 
 
 If bardies e'er are represented ; 
 1 ken if that your sword were wanted, 
 
 Ye'd lend a hand ; 
 But when there's ought to say anent it, in regard to 
 
 Ye* re at a Stand, you are at a stand-still 
 
 Arouse, my boys ! exert your mettle, 
 To get auld Scotland back her kettle; 
 
 * George Dempster of Dunnichen, M. P. 
 
 fBlue was the color of the flag borne by the Covenanters when they took the 
 Held against Charles II., in his attempt to force episcopacy on Scotland. Hence 
 the phrase: "A true-blue Presbyterian." J. H, 
 t Sir Adam Ferguson, M. P. 
 
 2 Marquis of Graham, afterwards Duke of Motitrose. 
 | Right Hon. Henry Dundas, M. P. 
 ** Thomas, afterwards Lord Erskine. 
 
 ttLord Frederick Campbell, M. P., brother of the Duke of Argyle, and Hay 
 Campbell, Lord Advocate, afterwards Lord President. 
 
 ft Sir Wm. Augustus Cunningham, Baronet, of Livingston, for some time sat as 
 M. P. for the county of Linlithgow, where he had his estate, which he was after- 
 wards compelled to sell in consequence of incurring electioneering debts. 
 2 Col. Hugh Montgomerie, afterwards Earl of Eglintoun. He was " stented " 
 to be " Burns' watchman," as representing Ayrshire in Parliament, so that Burns, 
 as an Ayrshire man, had a claim on him as his representative, " if bardies e'et 
 are represented." J. H. 
 1 1 See note on Stunts, p. 205.
 
 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 217 
 
 Or faith ! I'll wad my new pleugh-pettle, * 
 
 Ye' 11 see't or lang, erelong 
 
 She'll teach you wi' a reekin whittle,***^**} 
 
 1 with blood / 
 
 Anither sang. 
 
 This while she's been in crankous mood, 
 Her lost Militia f fir'd her bluid ; 
 (Deil nor they never mair do guid, 
 
 Play'd her that pliskie /) m-tam 
 An' now she's like to rin red-wud mad-angry 
 
 About her whisky. 
 
 An' L d ! if ance they pit her HlPt, drive her to it 
 
 Her tartan petticoat she'll kilt, 
 
 An' durk an' pistol at her belt, dirk 
 
 She'll tak the streets, 
 An' rin her whittle to the hilt, word 
 
 I' the first she meets 1 
 
 For G d-sake, sirs ! then speak her fair, 
 
 An' straik her cannie wi' the hair, stroke gently 
 
 An' to the niUCkle house repair, great house (parliament) 
 
 Wi' instant speed, 
 
 An' strive, wi' a' your wit an' lear^ learning 
 
 To get remead. redress 
 
 Yon ill-tongu'd tinkler, Charlie Fox, 
 May taunt you wi' his jeers an' mocks ; 
 But gie him '/ het, my hearty cocks! give u him hot 
 E'en cowe the cadie\\ awe feiiow 
 An' send him to his dicing box 
 An' sportin lady. 
 
 Implement for cleaning the plough of clods, etc. 
 
 t The Scots Militia Bill was burdened with conditions which liberal Member* 
 would not accept, and it was opposed and lost. 
 
 t A cadie or caddie was one who gained a livelihood by running messages, espe- 
 cially in the streets of Edinburgh ; hence the word came to be a synonym for a 
 low fellow. J. H.
 
 218 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. 
 
 Tell yon guid bluid o' auld Boconnock's,* goodbiood 
 
 I'll be his debt twa mashlum bannocks, f 
 
 An' drink his health in auld Nanse Tinnock'sJ 
 
 Nine times a week, 
 If he some scheme, like tea an' winnocks^ windows 
 
 Wad kindly seek. 
 
 Could he some commutation broach, 
 
 I'll pledge my aith in guid braid Scotch, oath broad 
 
 He needna fear their foul reproach 
 
 Nor erudition. 
 Yon mixtie-maxtie, queer hotch-potch, badly mixed 
 
 The ''Coalition. "|| 
 
 Auld Scotland has a raucle tongue ; rough and reckies* 
 She's just a devil wi' a rung ; bludgeon 
 
 An' if she promise auld or young 
 
 To tak their part, 
 Tho' by the neck she should be strung, 
 
 She'll no desert. 
 
 And now, ye chosen Five-and-Forty,** 
 
 May still your mither's heart support ye ; 
 
 Then, tho' a minister grow dorty, sulky 
 
 An' kick your place, 
 Ye' 11 snap your fingers, poor an' hearty, 
 Before his face. 
 
 Pitt was a grandson of Robert Pitt of Boconnock in Cornwall. Pitt (as well 
 as his father, the Earl of Chatham) was a favorite of Burns. I^ater, we shall see, 
 he changed, and, on one occasion, Pitt's health being given as a toast, Burns, to 
 his own injury, suggested to substitute a health to Washington. J. H. 
 
 t Mashlum bannocks or scones are made of a mash of various kinds of grain. 
 
 t A worthy old hostess of the Author's in Mauchline, where he sometimes studies 
 politics over a glass of gude auld "Scotch Drink." R. B. Nine times a week is, 
 of course, a poetical exaggeration, besides it is to be remembered the potations 
 in the old lady's house were generally of home-brewed ale, of which both' lada 
 and lasses were wont to be partakers. The remark made in reference to Burns* 
 temperance in the note to " Scotch Drink " applies equally to this piece. J. H. 
 
 Some duty was taken off tea, and the loss made up by a window-tax. 
 
 | See note p. 63. 
 
 ** Scotland was allowed by the Act of Union just forty-five representatives in 
 the House of Commons, and sixteen representative peers in tbe House of 
 -J. .
 
 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 219 
 
 God bless your Honors, a' your days, 
 
 Wi' sowps o' kail and brats o' claise,* 
 
 In spite o' a' the thievish kaes, jack-daws 
 
 That haunt St. Jamie^s ! St c u a * e s f } 
 Your humble poet sings an' prays, 
 
 While Rab his name is. 
 
 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 I/ET half-starv'd slaves in wanner skies 
 See future wines, rich-clust'ring, rise ; 
 Their lot auld Scotland ne'er envies, 
 
 But, blythe and frisky, cheerful 
 She eyes her freeborn, martial boys 
 
 Tak off their whisky. take oa 
 
 What tho' their Phoebus kinder warms, 
 While fragrance blooms and beauty charms, 
 When wretches range, in famish' d swarms, 
 
 The scented groves ; 
 Or, hounded forth, dishonor arms 
 
 In hungry droves ! 
 
 Their gun's a burthen on their shouther; shoulder 
 They downa bide the stink o' powther ; an ^o S wd r } 
 Their bauldest thought's a hankering swither boldest) 
 
 To stand or rin, hesitating doubt/ 
 Till skelp a shot they're aflf, a' throw* ther crack) 
 
 To save their skin. 
 
 But bring a Scotchman frae his hill, 
 Clap in his cheek a Highland gill, 
 Say, such is royal George's will, 
 
 An' there's the foe ! 
 He has nae thought but how to kill 
 
 Twa at a blow. 
 
 * Sups of kak -broth and duds of clothes. J. H.
 
 220 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. 
 
 Nae cauld, faint-hearted doubtings tease him ; cold 
 Death comes, wi' fearless eye he sees him ; 
 Wi' bluidy hand a welcome gies him ; 
 
 An' when he fa's, &OM 
 
 His latest draught o' breathin led 1 es him leaves 
 
 In faint huzzas. 
 
 Sages their solemn een may steek y eyes shut 
 
 An' raise a philosophic reek, wnoke 
 
 An' physically causes seek, 
 
 In clime an' season ; 
 But tell me whisky's name in Greek, 
 
 I'll tell the reason. 
 
 Scotland, my auld, respected mither ! 
 
 Tho' whiles ye moistify your leather, sometimes skin 
 
 Till, whare ye sit on craps o' heather, bunches 
 
 Ye tine your dam ; lose 
 
 Freedom and whisky gang thegither ! go 
 
 Tak aff your dram ! 
 
 [In this piece, our poet returns, with increased poetic fervor, to 
 the theme of "Scotch Drink." We of this generation are apt to 
 wonder why, in the opening line, he addresses "Irish lords" instead 
 of those of our own Scotland, when hailing the "Scotch repre- 
 sentatives in the House of Commons :" but the eldest sons of Scottish 
 peers not being eligible for election in Scotland, while the sons of 
 Irish peers were eligible, seems to have been felt by Burns as a 
 national affront. (It is probable that some of this class actually 
 represented Scotch constituencies. We must therefore regard the 
 prominence here given to "Irish lords" as a pointed stroke of 
 satire. The question was tried by Lord Daer, son of the Earl 
 of Selkirk, during the poet's lifetime, both in the Court of Session 
 and House of Lords, and decided against him. Let it be noted 
 that the poem opens with a compliment to sobriety in the person 
 of the Irish peers and other Scottish representatives. J. H.) 
 
 The fifteenth stanza was excluded by the author in published 
 copies, for what reason Gilbert Burns could not say : but clearly 
 it was to avoid giving offence to the gallant soldier by the allusion 
 to his deficiency as a speaker. The closing verse, which Currie 
 approvingly characterises as a " most laughable, but most irreverent
 
 aJT. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 221 
 
 apostrophe," underwent, in the edition of 1794, a change which 
 has been rejected by every editor of the poet. The innovation 
 seems to have been suggested by Mr. Alexander Fraser Tytler. 
 
 "Till when ye speak, ye ablin's blether, 
 Yet, deil mak matter! 
 Freedom and whisky gang thegither, 
 
 Tak aff your whitter 1"] 
 
 THE ORDINATION. 
 (EDINBURGH ED., 1787.) 
 
 * For sense, they little owe to frugal Heav'n 
 To please the mob they hide the little giv*n." 
 
 KILMARNOCK wabsters, fidge an' clawf 
 
 An' pour your creeshie nations ; greasy tribes 
 An' ye wha leather rax an' draw, stretch 
 
 Of a' denominations ; 
 Swith ! to the Laigh Kirk, ane an' a',f 
 
 An' there tak up your stations ; 
 Then aff to Begbie'sJ in a razv t row 
 
 An' pour divine libations 
 
 For joy this day. 
 
 Curst " Common-sense," that imp o' h-U, 
 
 Cam in wi' Maggie Lauder: 
 But Oliphant || aft made her yell, 
 
 An' Russell ** sair misca'd her : 
 
 * Fidget and scratch signs of pleasant excitement among hand-loom weavers. 
 Kilmarnock was then a town of three or lour thousand inhabitants, largely em- 
 ployed in the manufacture of carpets, bonnets, etc., and (Chambers says) in the 
 preparation of leather. J. H. 
 
 toff, to the Low Church, one and all JH. 
 
 J Begbie's Inn, in a small court near the Laigh Kirk. 
 
 \ Alluding to a scoffing ballad which was made on the admission of the late 
 reverend and worthy Mr. Lindsay to the "Laigh Kirk." R. B. 
 
 | Rev. James Oliphant, minister of Chapel of Ease, Kilmarnock, from 1764 to 
 1774- 
 
 ** Rev. John Russell of Kilmarnock, one of the "Twa Herds." He was successor 
 to Oliphaut. See notes pp. 83, 139.
 
 222 POEMS AND SONGS. (1786. 
 
 This day Mackinlay * taks the flail, f 
 
 An' he's the boy will blaud her ! spank 
 
 He'll clap a shangan on her tail, tin kettle 
 
 An' set the bairns to daud her bespatter 
 
 Wi' dirt this day. 
 
 Mak haste an' turn King David owre, over 
 
 An' lilt wi' holy clangor ; sing 
 
 O' double Verse COme gie US four, an eight line stanza 
 
 An' skirl up ' ' the Bangor : " J strike up shriiiy 
 
 This day the kirk kicks up a stoure, dust (disturbance) 
 
 Nae mair the knaves shall wrang her ; no more l 
 
 TA TT 1. i wrong/ 
 
 For Heresy is m her pow r, 
 
 And gloriously she'll whang her, thrash 
 
 Wi' pith this day. 
 
 Come, let a proper text be read, 
 
 An' touch it aff wi' vigor, 
 How graceless Ham leugh at his dad, laughed 
 
 Which made Canaan a nigger ; 
 Or Phineas || drove the murdering blade, 
 
 Wi' whore-abhorring rigor ; 
 Or Zipporah,** the scauldin jad y scolding jade 
 
 Was like a bluidy teeger bloody tigress 
 
 I' th' inn that day. 
 
 There, try his mettle on the creed, 
 And bind him down wi' caution, 
 
 That stipend is a carnal weed 
 He taks but for the fashion ; 
 
 And gie him o'er the flock to feed, give 
 
 And punish each transgression ; 
 
 Rev. James Mackinlay, subject of the present poem, ordained 6th April, IT&X 
 
 s a preacher, he became "a great favorite of the million." 
 
 f Begins to preach and to thrash heresy. 
 
 tA favorite psalm tune. Genesis Lt. 22. R. B. 
 
 \ Numbers xxv. 8.X. B. ** Exodus iv. 25. .#. A
 
 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 223 
 
 Especial, rams that cross the breed, 
 Gie them sufficient threshin ; 
 
 Spare them nae day. 
 
 Now auld Kilmarnock, cock thy tail, old 
 
 An' toss thy horns fu' canty ; merry 
 
 Nae mair thou'lt rowte out-owre the dale low over 
 
 Because thy pasture's scanty ; 
 
 For lapfu's large o' gospel kail greens 
 
 Shall fill thy crib in plenty, 
 An' runts o' grace the pick an' wale kaie-staiks choice 
 
 No glen by way o' dainty, given 
 
 But ilka day.* every 
 
 Nae mair by "Babel's streams" we'll weep, 
 
 To think upon our ' ' Zion ; ' ' 
 And king our fiddles up to sleep, hang 
 
 Like "baby-clouts a-dryin ! cloths 
 
 Come, screw the pegs wi' tunefu' cheep, chirp 
 
 And o'er the thairms be tryin ; strings 
 
 Oh, rare ! to see our elbucks wheep, elbows whip 
 
 And a? like lamb-tails flyin ! an 
 
 Fu 1 fast this day ! right 
 
 Lang, Patronage, f wi' rod o' airn^ iron 
 
 Has shored the Kirk's undoin ; threatened 
 
 As lately Fenwick, sair forfairn, distressed 
 
 Has proven to its ruin : \ 
 
 Our patron, honest man ! Glencairn, 
 He saw mischief was brewin ; 
 
 * Kilmarnock is here represented as an animal of the cow-kind about to be 
 abundantly cared for by her new herd ; and is exhorted to manifest her exulta- 
 tion accordingly. J. H. 
 
 fSee note on Patronage " Twa Dogs," p. 207. 
 
 \ Allusion is here made to the long disputed settlement of Rev. Wm. Boyd, as 
 minister to the parish of Fenwick, against whom the people were prejudiced as 
 being a ''Moderate" or member of the "New Light" party. He was ultimately 
 settle^ n 1782 and became an acceptable minister. J. H. 
 
 Z Sar> <)f Glencairn.
 
 224 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. 
 
 An' like a godly, elect bairn, child of grace 
 
 He's waled us out a true ane, selected 
 And sound this day. 
 
 Now Robertson * harangue nae mair, no more 
 
 But steek your gab for ever ; close mouth 
 
 Or try the wicked town of Ayr, 
 
 For there they'll think you clever : 
 Or, nae reflection on your lear, learning 
 
 Ye may commence a shaver ; 
 Or to the Netherton f repair, 
 
 An' turn a carpet-weaver, 
 
 Aff-hand this day. right away 
 
 Mu'trie | and you were just a match, 
 
 We never had sic twa drones ; 
 Auld "Hornie" did the Laigh Kirk then-n 
 
 low church > 
 
 watch, 
 
 Just like a winkin baudrons, cat 
 
 And ay he catch' d the tither wretch, tother 
 
 To fry them in his caudrons ; caldrons 
 
 But now his Honor maun detach, must make off 
 Wi' a' his brimstone squadrons, 
 Fast, fast this day. 
 
 See, see auld Orthodoxy's faes foes 
 
 She's swingein thro' the city ! 
 Hark, how the nine-tail' d cat she plays ! 
 
 I VOW it's UnCO pretty : uncommonly 
 
 There, Learning, with his Greekish face, 
 Grunts out some Latin ditty ; 
 
 *Rev. John Robertson, colleague of Dr. Mackinlay, ordained 1765, died 17981 
 He belonged to the "Common-sense" order of preachers, 
 t A district of Kilmarnock, where carpet weaving was largely carried on. 
 tThe Rev. John Multrie, a "Moderate" whom Mackinlay succeeded.
 
 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 225 
 
 And ' ' Common-sense ' ' is gaun, she says, going 
 To mak to Jamie Beattie * 
 
 Her plaint this day. 
 
 But there's Morality himsel, 
 
 Embracing all opinions ; 
 Hear, how he gies the tither yell, gives the other 
 
 Between his two, companions ! two 
 
 See, how she peels the skin an' fell, hide 
 
 As ane were peelin onions ! one 
 
 Now there, they're packed aff to h-11, 
 
 An' banish' d our dominions, 
 
 Henceforth this day. 
 
 O happy day ! rejoice, rejoice ! 
 
 Come bouse about the porter ! sit round carousing 
 Morality's demure decoys 
 
 Shall here nae mair find quarter : no more 
 
 Mackinlay, Russell, are the boys 
 
 That heresy can torture ; 
 They'll gie her on a rape a hoyse, rope hoist 
 
 And cowe her measure shorter cut 
 
 By th' head some day. 
 
 Come, bring the tither mutchkin in, pint of whisky 
 
 And here's for a conclusion 
 To ev'ry " new-light "f mother's son, 
 
 From this time forth, confusion ! 
 If mair they deave us wi' their din deafen noise 
 
 Or patronage intrusion, 
 We'll light a spunk, and ev'ry skin, match 
 
 We' 11 rin them aff in fusion, men them off 
 
 Like oil some day. 
 
 The poet, and author of an " Essay on Truth," who was reckoned to side 
 with the moderate party in church matters. 
 
 t A cant-phrase in the West of Scotland, for those religious opinions which Dr. 
 Taylor of Norwich has defended so strenuously.^. B. See p. 119. 
 I. O
 
 226 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. 
 
 [The poet's letter to Richmond of iyth February, 1786, intimates 
 that the present poem had already been composed : but it is a 
 curious fact that Dr. Mackinlay's ordination did not take place 
 till 6th April thereafter. 
 
 Both in this poem and its companion satire, "The Holy Fair," a 
 personality named "Common-Sense" is introduced. This means 
 the "new light," or Arminian doctrine that began to be observable 
 in the teaching of some Scotch pulpits, about the middle of last 
 century, and which Burns lent all his powers to promote. Here 
 he retraces the history of the " Laigh Kirk" of Kilmarnock so 
 far back as the year 1764, and shows that a series of consecutive 
 appointments of "New I/ight" ministers then commenced with the 
 Rev. William Lindsay. He refers to "a scoffing ballad" of that 
 date which more than hinted that the minister obtained that 
 appointment through the influence of his wife, a Miss Margaret 
 Lauder, who had formerly been housekeeper to and in high favor 
 with the patron, the Earl of Glencairn. On the present occasion, 
 however, the Earl yielded to the popular wishes, and the refreshing 
 " old light " again spread its halo around the L/aigh Kirk. (Mackinlay 
 survived till 1841 ; into his personal history there is no reason to 
 enter. His son, the Rev. James Mackinlay, died in Edinburgh so 
 recently as June, 1876. " Poetically, " says Waddell, "the ordination 
 is remarkable as an illustration of the poet's most caustic style, and 
 of his inimitable gift of discomfiting antagonists by the quiet repro- 
 duction of their own views." Historically, it is interesting as a 
 record of the state of ecclesiastical polity at the time, and of the 
 discussion of questions which resulted in the Disruption of the 
 Church. J. H.) 
 
 The following variations on stanzas fourth and fifth are found 
 in an early manuscript of this poem : 
 
 Come wale a text, a proper verse, select 
 
 And touch it aff wi' vigor, 
 How Ham leugh at his father's a laughed 
 
 Which made Canaan a nigger ; 
 Or Phineas did fair Cozbie pierce 
 
 Wi' whore-abhorring rigor ; 
 Or Zipporah, wi' scaulding hearse, &c. 
 
 There, try his mettle on the creed, 
 
 Wi' formula and confession ; formula 
 
 And lay your hands upon his head, 
 
 And seal his high commission, 
 The holy flock to tent and feed, guard 
 
 And punish each transgression, &c.]
 
 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 227 
 
 EPISTLE TO JAMES SMITH. 
 
 [KII.MARNOCK ED., 1786.] 
 
 " Friendship, mysterious cement of the soul ! 
 Sweet'ner of Ivife, and solder of Society 1 
 
 I owe thee much " 
 
 BLAIR. 
 
 DEAR SMITH, the slee>st, pawkie thief, slyest roguish 
 
 That e'er attempted stealth or rief! robbery 
 
 Ye surely hae some warlock- breef speii 
 
 Owre human hearts,; over 
 
 For ne'er a bosom yet was prief proof 
 
 Against your arts. 
 
 For me, I swear by sun an' moon, 
 
 An' ev'ry star that blinks aboon, twinkles above 
 
 Ye've cost me twenty pair o' shoon, shoes 
 
 Just gaun to see you ; going 
 
 An' ev'ry ither pair that's done, other 
 
 Mair taen I'm wi' you. more ) 
 
 captivated / 
 
 That auld, capricious carlin, Nature, dame 
 
 To mak amends for scrimpet stature, stinted 
 
 She's turn'd you off, a human-creature 
 
 On her first plan, 
 And in her freaks, on ev'ry feature 
 
 She's wrote the Man. 
 
 Just now I've taen the fit o' rhyme, taken 
 
 My barmie noddle 1 s working prime, yeasty brain is 
 
 My fancy yerket up sublime, worked 
 
 Wi' hasty summon : 
 
 Hae ye a leisure-moment's time have 
 
 To hear what's comin?
 
 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. 
 
 Some rhyme a neibor* s name to lash ; neighbor 
 
 Some rhyme (vain thought !) for needfu' cash : 
 Some rhyme to court the countra clash, gossip 
 
 An' raise a din; make a noise 
 For me, an aim I never fash ; trouble myself about 
 
 I rhyme for fun. 
 
 The star that rules my luckless lot, 
 
 Has fated me the russet coat, 
 
 An' damn'd my fortune to the groat; smaiicoinj 
 
 four-pence > 
 
 But, in requit, 
 
 Has blest me with a random-shot 
 O' countra wit. 
 
 for some time back ) 
 
 TJtis while my notion's taen a sklent, 
 
 To try my fate in guid, black prent; print (to publish) 
 
 But still the mair I'm that way bent, more 
 
 Something cries ' ^Hoolie \ softly 
 I red you, honest man, tak tent / counsel be cautious 
 
 Ye' 11 shaw your folly ; show 
 
 There's ither poets, much your betters, 
 Far seen in Greek, deep men o' letters, 
 Hae thought they had ensur'd their debtors, have 
 
 A' future ages : 
 Now moths deform, in shapeless tatters, 
 
 Their unknown pages." 
 
 Then farewell hopes of laurel-boughs, 
 To garland my poetic brows ! 
 Henceforth I'll rove where busy ploughs 
 
 Are whistlin thrang, diligently 
 An' teach the lanely heights an' howes vaiieys 
 
 My rustic sang. 
 
 I'll wander on, wi' tentless heed careless 
 
 How never-halting moments speed,
 
 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 229 
 
 Till fate shall snap the brittle thread ; 
 
 Then, all unknown, 
 I'll lay me with th' inglorious dead, 
 
 Forgot and gone ! 
 
 But why o' death begin a tale ? 
 
 Just now we're living sound an' hale ; 
 
 Then top and maintop crowd the sail, 
 
 Heave Care o'er-side ! 
 And large, before Enjoyment's gale, 
 
 Let's tak the tide. 
 
 This life, sae far's I understand, 
 
 Is ' enchanted fairy-land, *n 
 
 Where Pleasure is the magic-wand, 
 
 That, wielded right, 
 Maks hours like minutes, hand in hand, 
 
 Dance by fu? light fail 
 
 The magic-wand then let us wield; 
 
 For, ance that five-an' -forty's speePd, climbed 
 
 See, crazy, weary, joyless eild, oidage 
 
 Wi' wrinkl'd face, 
 Comes kostin, hirplin owre the field, coughing, limping j 
 
 Wt 1 creepin pace. 
 
 When ance life's day draws near the gloamin, once i 
 Then fareweel vacant, careless roamin ; twilight/ 
 An' fareweel chearfu' tankards foamin, 
 
 An' social noise : 
 An' fareweel dear, deluding woman, 
 
 The joy of joys 1 
 
 O Life ! how pleasant, in thy morning, 
 Young Fancy's rays the hills adorning 1
 
 230 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786 
 
 Cold-pausing Caution's lesson scorning, 
 
 We frisk away, 
 Like school-boys, at th' expected warning, 
 
 To joy an' play. 
 
 We wander there, we wander here, 
 We eye the rose upon the brier, 
 Unmindful that the thorn is near, 
 
 Among the leaves ; 
 And tho' the puny wound appear, 
 
 Short while it grieves.* 
 
 Some, lucky, find a flow'ry spot, 
 
 For which they never toil'd nor swat ; sweated 
 
 They drink the sweet and eat the fat, 
 
 But care or pain ; without 
 
 And haply eye the barren hut 
 
 With high disdain. 
 
 With steady aim, some fortune chase ; 
 Keen hope does ev'ry sinew brace ; 
 Thro' fair, thro' foul, they urge the race, 
 
 An' seize the prey : 
 Then cannie, in some cozie place, quietly snug 
 
 They close the day. 
 
 And others, like your humble servan' 
 
 Poor wights ! nae rules nor roads observin, feiiows n 
 
 To right or left eternal swervin, 
 
 They zig-zag on ; 
 Till, curst with age, obscure an' starvin, 
 
 They aften groan. often 
 
 * " Where can we find a more exhilarating enumeration of the enjoyments of 
 youth contrasted with their successive extinction as age advances, than in the 
 Epistle to James Smith f" PROFESSOR WALKER.
 
 . 28.3 
 
 POEMS AND SONGS. 
 
 231 
 
 Alas ! what bitter toil an' straining 
 
 But truce with peevish, poor complaining 1 
 
 Is fortune's fickle Luna waning? 
 
 E'en let \vz.r gang ! go 
 
 Beneath what light she has remaining, 
 
 Let's sing our sang. 
 
 My pen I here fling to the door, 
 And kneel, ye Pow'rs ! and warm implore, 
 "Tho' I should wander Terra o'er, 
 In all her climes, 
 Grant me but this, I ask no more, 
 
 Ay rOWtk <?' rhymes. abundance of 
 
 "Gie dreeping roasts to conntra lairds, co 
 Till icicles king frae their beards ; hang from 
 
 Gie fine braw claes to fine life-guards, gay clothes 
 
 And maids of honor ; 
 An' yill an' whisky gie to cairds, aie give tinkers 
 
 Until they SCOnner. are nauseated 
 
 " A title, Dempster * merits it ; 
 A garter gie to Willie Pitt ; f give 
 
 Gie wealth to some be-ledger'd cit, give 
 
 In cent, per cent. ; 
 But give me real, sterling wit, 
 
 And I'm content. 
 
 "While ye are pleas' d to keep me hale, 
 I'll sit down o'er my scanty meal, 
 Be't water-brose or muslin-kail, lenten soup 
 
 Wi' chearfu' face, 
 As lang's the Muses dinna fail do not 
 
 To say the grace." 
 
 * George Dempster of Dunnichen, M. P., a distinguished patriot and conspicu- 
 ous orator in Parliament, referred to in " The Author's Earnest Cry," p. 216. 
 
 fWe have already referred to the poet's partiality at this period for both Pitt 
 and his father, the Earl of Chatham. J. H.
 
 232 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. 
 
 An anxious e^e I never throws eye 
 
 Behint my lug, or by my nose ; * ear past 
 
 I jouk beneath Misfortune's blows dodge 
 
 As weel's I may ; 
 Sworn foe to sorrow, care, and prose, 
 
 I rhyme away. 
 
 ye douce folk that live by rule, quietly decent 
 Grave, tideless-blooded, calm an' cool, 
 Compar'd wi' you O fool ! fool ! fool ! 
 
 How much unlike ! 
 Your hearts are just a standing pool, 
 
 Your lives a dyke! sod fence 
 
 Nae hair-brain' d, sentimental traces 
 In your unletter'd, nameless faces ! 
 In arioso trills and graces 
 
 Ye never stray ; 
 But gravissimo,t solemn basses 
 
 Ye hum away. 
 
 Ye are sae grave, nae doubt ye' re wise ; 
 
 Nae ferly tho' ye do despise wonder 
 
 Th: luirum-scairum, ram-stam boys, 
 
 The rattling squad : 
 
 1 see ye upward cast your eyes 
 
 Ye ken the road ! 1a>aw the wa ?l 
 
 (to heaven) f 
 
 Whilst I but I shall haud me there, hold (*/<> 
 
 Wi' you I'll scarce gang ony where go 
 
 Then, Jamie, I shall say nae mair, no more 
 
 But quat my sang, quit 
 Content wi' you to mak a pair, 
 
 Whare'er I gang. go 
 
 Never cast an eye behind or before : never trouble myself with past or future. 
 J. H. 
 f Accent on penult.
 
 Xt. 28. POEMS AND SONGS. 233 
 
 [James Smith, the person here addressed, was a shopkeeper in 
 Mauchline, short of stature, but vigorous in mind. From what 
 we have said of him (p. 157, supra) as the "wag in Mauchline," 
 celebrated in one of Burns' cleverest epigrams, and as "fiscal" 
 of the "Court of Equity" held at the Whitefoord Arms Inn, the 
 reader will need little more information regarding him. He stood 
 Burns' friend "through thick and thin," when he got into diffi- 
 culties early in the Spring of 1786, in relation to his love-alliance 
 with Jean Armour. The first intimation of trouble regarding that 
 affair is given in the poet's letter to Richmond, I7th February, 
 1786, in which he says: "I have some very important news with 
 respect to myself, not the most agreeable news that I am sure 
 you cannot guess, but I shall give you the particulars another 
 time. I am extremely happy with Smith ; he is the only friend 
 I have now in Mauchline." Smith afterwards had a calico-printing 
 manufactory at Avon, near L,inlithgtfw, but proved unsuccessful. 
 It was his fate to end life sooner even than our poet, and in the 
 very place where Burns at one time expected to end his the 
 West Indies.] 
 
 (This is a specimen of these epistles, the style of which was 
 suggested to Burns by the corresponding epistles of Hamilton of 
 Gilbertfield, Allan Ramsay, and his favorite Fergusson. "A type 
 of a much higher kind," says Waddell, "although certainly un- 
 known to Burns, is recognizable in the Odes of Horace. The 
 metre itself most favorite with him, although not exactly the same, 
 is very similar to that of Burns in his Epistles ; but the simi- 
 larity of style, in thought, in sententious philosophy, in epigram- 
 matic reflection, in discursive sally, converting themselves insensibly 
 to proverbial utterances, is so remarkable that it could be fairly 
 illustrated only by parallel quotations of entire passages." . . . 
 Little does "the scholar, engrossed with classical lore, . . . ima- 
 gine that all this philosophy (of Horace) has been reproduced and 
 broadened by an Ayrshire ploughman, in a rude northern dialect 
 diversified by endless variety of observation, enriched with a geni- 
 ality of humor of which Horace was incapable, and sweetened with 
 a tenderness of sympathy absolutely foreign to his selfish Roman 
 nature." J. H.)
 
 234 
 
 POEMS AND SONGS. 
 
 THE VISION. 
 
 (KJLMARNOCK ED., 1786.) 
 
 DUAN FIRST.* 
 
 THE sun had clos'd the winter day, 
 
 The curlers quat their roarin play,f quitted 
 
 And hunger' d maukin taen her way, tare taken 
 
 To kail-yards green, kitchen gardens 
 
 While faithless snaws ilk step betray 
 Whare she has been. 
 
 snows cac.i 
 
 The thresher's weary flingin-tree, flaii 
 
 The lee-lang day had tired me ; whole long 
 
 And when the day had closed his e>e eye 
 
 Far i' the west, 
 Ben i' the spence,| right pensivelie, 
 
 I gaed to rest. went 
 
 There, lanely by the ingle-cheek, fireside 
 
 I sat and ey'd the spewing reek, smoke vomiting forth 
 That fill'd, wi' ^0#^-provoking smeek, cough smoke 
 The auld clay biggin; building 
 An' heard the restless rations squeak rats 
 
 About the riggin. thatched roof 
 
 All in this mottie, misty clime. 
 I backward mus'd on wasted time, 
 
 mucky 
 
 * Duan, a term of Ossian's for the different divisions of a digressive poem. See 
 his Cath-Ix>da, vol. 2, of M'Pherson's translation. R. B. 
 
 \ Not only from the hilarity of the game, but from the roaring sound of the 
 curling-stone along the hollow ice. 
 
 t In Scotland formerly the ordinary farm-house had but two apartments on the 
 ground floor, the but, or outer apartment or kitchen, and the ben, or inner apart- 
 ment, spence or parlor. The farm-house of Mossgiel was of this description. 
 Ben is here used as a preposition within. J. H.
 
 28.] PC EMS AND SONGS. 235 
 
 How I had spent my youthfu' prime, 
 
 An' done naething, 
 But stringing blethers up in rhyme, nonsense 
 
 For fools to sing. 
 
 Had I to guid advice but harket, hearkener 
 
 I might, by this, hae led a market,* 
 
 Or strutted in a bank and clarket clerked 
 
 My cash-account ; 
 While here, half-mad, half-fed, \va\t-sarket, shifted 
 
 Is a' th' amount 
 
 I started, mutt' ring "blockhead! coofl" ass 
 
 An' heav' d on high my wauket loof toil-hardened palm 
 To swear by a' you starry roof, 
 
 Or some rash aith, oath 
 
 That I henceforth wad be rhyme-proof would 
 
 Till my last breath 
 
 When click ! the string the snick did draw ; latch 
 
 An' jee ! the door gaed to the wa' ; open went 
 
 An' by my ingle-lowe I saw, flame of my fire 
 
 Now bleezin bright, blazing 
 
 A tight, Outlandish hlZZte, braw foreign-looking female fine 
 
 Come full in sight. 
 
 Ye need na doubt, I held my whisht ; wasstm 
 
 The infant aith, half-form' d, was crusht ; oath 
 
 I glowr'd as eerie' s I'd been dusht,f 
 
 In some wild glen ; 
 When sweet, like modest Worth, she blusht, 
 
 An' stepped ben. ia 
 
 'Farmers of especial wealth and influence with their class are said to "lead 
 the markets." J. H. 
 
 t Affected with mysterious awe, I stared as if I were stupefied and speechless 
 With amazement. J. H.
 
 236 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. 
 
 Green, slender, leaf-clad holly-boughs 
 Were twisted, gracefu' , round her brows ; 
 I took her for some Scottish Muse, 
 
 By that same token ; 
 And come to stop those reckless vows, 
 
 Would soon been broken. 
 
 A " hair-brain' d, sentimental trace"* 
 Was strongly marked in her face ; 
 A wildly-witty, rustic grace 
 
 Shone full upon her; 
 Her eye, ev'n turn'd on empty space, 
 
 Beam'd keen with honor, f 
 
 Down flow'd her robe, a tartan sheen, 
 
 Till half a leg was scrimply seen ; bareij 
 
 An' such a leg ! my bonie Jean \ 
 
 Could only peer it ; 
 
 ctraifflit ^ 
 
 Sae straught, sae taper, tight an' clean we ii-made 
 Nane else came near it 
 
 Her mantel large, of greenish hue, 
 
 My gazing wonder chiefly drew ; 
 
 Deep lights and shades, bold-mingling, threw 
 
 A lustre grand ; 
 And seem'd, to my astonish' d view, 
 
 A well-known land. 
 
 *A quotation from his own words in the preceding epistle to James Smith, 
 page 232. 
 
 tThis couplet was a great favorite with Dr. Chalmers, who referred to it as 
 the description of an eye too divine for fallen humanity to possess. 
 
 | ''My bonie Jean." About the month of January or February 1786, when, as 
 we conjecture, this poem was composed, these words must have stood as in the 
 text. But when his poems were at the press, the author's irritation on her account 
 caused him to alter the words to " my Bess, I ween," and so they stand in the 
 Kilmarnock edition : but in 1787, that irritation having subsided, Jean was re- 
 stored to her place of honor in the poem. 
 
 (When Burns was alienated from Jean Armour he became betrothed to Mary 
 Campbell his " Highland Mary." Why, then, did he not substitute her name 
 rbr that of Jean ? Burns' feeling of delicacy prevented this, and the very omis- 
 sion furnishes the best evidence of Mary's purity. His Bess and Jean had both 
 compromised themselves ; Mary never. She could not be named in connection 
 with an allusion even suggestive of indelicacy. J. H.)
 
 4JT. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 237 
 
 Here, rivers in the sea were lost ; 
 
 There, mountains to the skies were toss't : 
 
 Here, tumbling billows mark'd the coast, 
 
 With surging foam ; 
 There, distant shone Art's lofty boast, 
 
 The lordly dome. 
 
 Here, Doon pour'd down his far-fetch' d floods ; 
 There, well-fed Irwine stately thuds ; sounds 
 
 Auld hermit Ayr staw thro' his woods, stole 
 
 On to the shore ; 
 And many a lesser torrent scuds, 
 
 With seeming roar.* 
 
 Low, in a sandy valley spread, 
 
 An ancient borough rear' d her head ;f 
 
 Still, as in Scottish story read, 
 
 She boasts a race 
 To ev'ry nobler virtue bred, 
 
 And polish' d grace. \ 
 
 [By stately tow'r, or palace fair, 
 
 Or ruins pendent in the air, 
 
 Bold stems of heroes, here and there, 
 
 I could discern ; 
 Some seem'd to muse, some seem'd to dare, 
 
 With feature stern. 
 
 My heart did glowing transport feel, 
 To see a race heroic wheel, 
 
 Burns more than once complains (see p. 117) that while the Tay, Forth, Et 
 trick, Tweed and other Scottish streams flowed to the sea to the sound of music 
 sweeter than their own, no one had sung the streams of Ayrshire. J. H. 
 
 t Ayr, whose charter dates from the beginning of the thirteenth century. J. H. 
 
 \ Here, in the first edition, Duan First came to a close ; the additional seven 
 stanzas were appended in the second edition, apparently in compliment to Mrs. 
 Dunlop and other influential friends of the author. 
 
 \ The descendants of Wallace the Scottish patriot-hero. J. H.
 
 238 POEMS AND SONGS. 1786. 
 
 And brandish round the deep-dyed steel, 
 
 In sturdy blows ; 
 While, back-recoiling, seem'd to reel 
 
 Their SUthron foes. Southern or English 
 
 His Country's Saviour,* mark him well I 
 Bold Richard ton's heroic swell ;f 
 The chief, on Sark who glorious fell| 
 
 In high command ; 
 And he whom ruthless fates expel 
 
 His native land. 
 
 There, where a sceptr'd Pictish shade 
 Stalk' d round his ashes lowly laid, 
 I mark'd a martial race, pourtray'd 
 
 In colors strong : 
 Bold, soldier-featur'd, undismay'd, 
 
 They strode along. 
 
 Thro' many a wild, romantic grove, || 
 Near many a hermit-fancied cove 
 (Fit haunts for friendship or for love, 
 
 In musing mood), 
 An aged Judge, I saw him rove, 
 
 Dispensing good. 
 
 William Wallace. R. B. 
 
 t Adam Wallace of Richardton, cousin to the immortal preserver of Scottish 
 independence. R. B. 
 
 \ Wallace, laird of Craigie, who was second in command, under Douglas, Earl 
 of Ormond, at the famous Battle on the banks of Sark, fought in 1448. The glori- 
 ous victory was principally owing to the judicious conduct and intrepid valor of 
 the gallant laird of Craigie, who died of his wounds after the action. R. B. 
 
 $ Coilus, King of the Picts, from whom the district of Kyle is said to take its 
 name, lies buried, as tradition says, near the family seat of the Montgomeries 
 of Coilsfield, where his burial place is still shown. R. B. See note on " Twa 
 Dogs," p. 203. 
 
 H Barskimming, the seat of the Lord Justice-Clerk. R. B. (Sir Thomas Miller 
 of Gleulee, afterwards President of the Court of Session.)
 
 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 239 
 
 With deep-struck, reverential awe, 
 The learned Sire and Son I saw : * 
 To nature's God, and Nature's law, 
 
 They gave their lore ; 
 This, all its source and end to draw, 
 
 That, to adore. 
 
 Brydon's brave ward f I well could spy, 
 Beneath old Scotia's smiling eye ; 
 Who call'd on Fame, low standing by, 
 
 To hand him on, 
 Where many a patriot-name on high, 
 
 And hero shone.] 
 
 DUAN SECOND. 
 
 With musing-deep, astonish' d stare, 
 I view'd the heavenly-seeming Fair ; 
 A whispering throb did witness bear 
 
 Of kindred sweet, 
 When with an elder sister's air 
 
 She did me greet 
 
 " All hail ! my own inspired bard ! 
 In me thy native Muse regard ; 
 Nor longer mourn thy fate is hard, 
 
 Thus poorly low ; 
 I come to give thee such reward, 
 
 As we bestow ! 
 
 * Catrine, the seat of the late Doctor and present Professor Stewart.^. S. The 
 father of Dugald Stewart was eminent in Mathematics. 
 
 t Colonel Fullarton. R. B. He had travelled under the care of Patrick Bry- 
 done, author of a well-known publication, " A Tour through Sicily and Malta." 
 The Duke of Portland now owns Fullarton House and broad acres.
 
 240 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786 
 
 " Know, the great genius of this land 
 Has many a light aerial band, 
 Who, all beneath his high command, 
 
 Harmoniously, 
 
 As arts or arms they understand, 
 Their labors ply. 
 
 "They Scotia's race among them share : 
 Some fire the soldier on to dare ; 
 Some rouse the patriot up to bare 
 
 Corruption's heart : 
 
 Some teach the bard a darling care 
 The tuneful art. 
 
 " 'Mong swelling floods of reeking gore, 
 They, ardent, kindling spirits pour ; 
 Or, 'mid the venal senate's roar, 
 
 They, sightless, stand unseen 
 
 To mend the honest patriot-lore, 
 
 And grace the hand. 
 
 "And when the bard, or hoary sage, 
 Charm or instruct the future age, 
 They bind the wild poetic rage 
 
 In energy, 
 Or point the inconclusive page 
 
 Full on the eye.* 
 
 "Hence, Fullarton, the brave and young; 
 Hence, Dempster's zeal-inspired tongue ; f 
 Hence, sweet, harmonious Beattie sung 
 
 His ' Minstrel ' lays ; 
 Or tore, with noble ardor stung, 
 
 The sceptic's bays. 
 
 *Tliis stanza was added in the second edition (1787). 
 + See note on Epistle to James Smith, see p. 231.
 
 THE VISION 
 
 " Down flow'd her robe, a tartan sheen, 
 Till half a leg was scrimply seen."
 
 JET. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 241 
 
 "To lower orders are assign' d 
 The humbler ranks of human-kind, 
 The rustic bard, the laboring hind, 
 
 The artisan ; 
 All chuse, as various they're inclin'd 
 
 The various man. 
 
 "When yellow waves the heavy grain, 
 The threat' ning storm some strongly rein j 
 Some teach to meliorate the plain, 
 
 With tillage-skill ; 
 And some instruct the shepherd-train, 
 
 Sly the o'er the hilL cbeerfu 
 
 "Some hint the lover's harmless wile ; 
 Some grace the maiden's artless smile; 
 Some soothe the laborer's weary toil 
 For humble gains, 
 
 And make his cottage-scenes beguile 
 His cares and pains. 
 
 ** Some, bounded to a district-space, 
 Explore at large man's infant race, 
 To mark the embryotic trace 
 
 Of rustic bard ; 
 And careful note each opening grace, 
 
 A guide and guard. 
 
 " Of these am I Coila my name : * 
 And this district as mine I claim, 
 Where once the Campbells,! chiefs of fame, 
 
 Held ruling pow'r : 
 I mark'd thy embryo-tuneful flame, 
 
 Thy natal hour. 
 
 * Burns acknowledges having 1 obtained the idea of this visionary from the 
 "Scota" of Alex. Ross, a Mearns poet, and author of a pastoral of some merit 
 entitled The Fortunate Shepherdess. Ross must have read Gay to purpose.- -J. H. 
 
 \ The Loudon branch of the Campbells is here referred to. 
 
 L P
 
 242 POEMS AND SONGS. 11786 
 
 "With future hope I oft would gaze 
 Fond, on thy little early ways, 
 Thy rudely caroll'd, chiming phrase, 
 
 In uncouth rhymes ; 
 Fir'd at the simple, artless lays 
 
 Of other times. 
 
 "I saw thee seek the sounding shore, 
 Delighted with the dashing roar ; 
 Or when the North his fleecy store 
 
 Drove thro' the sky, 
 I saw grim Nature's visage hoar 
 
 Struck thy young eye. 
 
 "Or when the deep green-mantled earth 
 Warm cherish'd ev'ry floweret's birth, 
 And joy and music pouring forth 
 
 In ev'ry grove ; 
 I saw thee eye the general mirth 
 
 With boundless love. 
 
 "When ripen' d fields and azure skies 
 Call'd forth the reapers' rustling noise, 
 I saw thee leave their ev'ning joys, 
 
 And lonely stalk, 
 To vent thy bosom's swelling rise, 
 
 In pensive walk. 
 
 "When youthful love, warm-blushing, strong, 
 Keen-shivering, shot thy nerves along, 
 Those accents grateful to thy tongue, 
 
 Th' adored Name, 
 I taught thee how to pour in song, 
 
 To soothe thy flame.
 
 . 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 243 
 
 "I saw thy pulse's maddening play, 
 Wild send thee Pleasure's devious way, 
 Misled by Fancy's meteor-ray, 
 
 By passion driven ; 
 But yet the light that led astray 
 
 Was light from Heaven. 
 
 "I taught thy manners-painting strains, 
 The loves, the ways of simple swains, 
 Till now, o'er all my wide domains 
 Thy fame extends ; 
 And some, the pride of Coila's plains, 
 Become thy friends.* 
 
 "Thou canst not learn, nor can I show, 
 To paint with Thomson's landscape glow ; 
 Or wake the bosom-melting throe, 
 
 With Shenstone's art; 
 Or pour, with Gray, the moving flow 
 Warm on the heart 
 
 "Yet, all beneath th' unrivall'd rose, 
 The lowly daisy sweetly blows ; 
 Tho' large the forest's monarch throws 
 
 His army-shade, 
 
 Yet green the juicy hawthorn grows, 
 Adown the glade. 
 
 "Then never murmur nor repine; 
 Strive in thy humble sphere to shine; 
 
 * Burns enjoyed local fame even before he published his Kilmarnock edition. 
 He gave copies of his poems freely around. In particular he committed many of 
 them to the care of Mr. Aiken, Gavin Hamilton's advocate, and also tax collec- 
 tor, Ayr. (See INVENTORY). Mr. Aiken read them to all whom he thought likely 
 to appreciate them, giving them the benefit of his elocution, which all acknowl- 
 edge to have had a wonderful effect. Burns himself says, "Mr. Aiken read me 
 into fame." We can thus see how bis fame extended over "all Coila's wide do 
 mains." J. H.
 
 244 POEMS AND SONGS. [1760. 
 
 And trust me, not Potosi's mine, 
 
 Nor king's regard, 
 Can give a bliss o'ermatching thine, 
 
 A rustic bard. 
 
 "To give my counsels all in one, 
 Thy tuneful flame still careful fan : 
 Preserve the dignity of Man, 
 
 With soul erect ; 
 And trust the Universal Plan 
 
 Will all protect. 
 
 "And wear thou this " she solemn said, 
 And bound the holly round my head : 
 The polish' d leaves and berries red 
 
 Did rustling play ; 
 And, like a passing thought, she fled 
 
 In light away. 
 
 [In a letter which Burns addressed to Mrs. Dunlop from Edin- 
 burgh, on 1 5th January, 1787, he enclosed the seven concluding 
 stanzas of Duan first, as in the text, and wrote as follows: "I 
 have not composed anything on the great Wallace, except what 
 you have seen in print, and the enclosed, which I will print in 
 this edition. You will see I have mentioned some others of the 
 name. When I composed my ' Vision ' long ago, I had attempted 
 a description of Kyle, of which the additional stanzas are a part, 
 as it originally stood." 
 
 To another patroness Mrs. Stewart, of Stair he had presented 
 a manuscript book of ten leaves, folio, containing, along with 
 several early poems, a copy of the Vision. That copy embraces 
 about twenty stanzas which he cancelled when he came to print the 
 piece in his Kilmarnock volume. Seven of these, as we have seen, 
 he restored in printing his second edition, and the remainder of the 
 suppressed verses we now append. The ten leaves of the poet's 
 handwriting just referred to are generally styled the "Stair manu- 
 script." It was purchased by the late Mr. Dick, bookseller in Ayr, 
 from the grandson of Mrs. Stewart, of Stair ; and, since Mr. Dick's 
 decease, it has been cut asunder and sold piecemeal by his 
 Representatives.
 
 JBT. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 245 
 
 Referring to the suppressed stanzas of the 'Vision,' Chambers 
 thus observes : "It is a curious and valuable document valuable 
 for an unexpected reason, namely, its proving what might other- 
 wise be doubted, that Burns was not incapable of writing weakly. 
 The whole of the inedited stanzas are strikingly of this character. 
 Perhaps there is, after all, a second and a greater importance in 
 the document, as showing how, with the capability of writing 
 ineffectively, his taste was so unerring as to prevent him from 
 publishing a single line that was not fitted to command respect ; 
 for every one of the poor stanzas has been thrown out on sending 
 the poem to the press."] 
 
 SUPPRESSED STANZAS OF "THE VISION." 
 (CHAMBERS, 1852.) 
 
 After eighteenth stanza of the text : 
 
 WITH secret throes I marked that earth, 
 That cottage, witness of my birth ; 
 And near I saw, bold issuing forth 
 
 In youthful pride, 
 A Lindsay race of noble worth, 
 
 Famed far and wide. 
 
 Where, hid behind a spreading wood, 
 An ancient Pict-built mansion stood, 
 I spied, among an angel brood, 
 
 A female pair ; 
 Sweet shone their high maternal blood, 
 
 And father's air.* 
 
 An ancient tower f to memory brought 
 How Dettingen's bold hero fought ; 
 Still, far from sinking into nought, 
 
 It owns a lord 
 Who far in western climates fought, 
 
 With trusty sword 
 
 Among the rest I well could spy 
 One gallant, graceful, martial boy, 
 The soldier sparkled in bis eye, 
 
 A diamond water ; 
 I blest that noble badge with joy 
 
 That owned me /rater. \ 
 
 * Sundrum. R. B. Hamilton of Sundrum was married to a sister ol Colonel 
 Montgomerie of Coilsfield. 
 
 t Stair. A". B. That old mansion was then possessed by General Stewart and 
 his lady, to whom the MS. was presented. 
 
 \ Captain James Montgomerie, Master of St. James' Lodge, Tarbolton, to which 
 the author has the honor to belong. R. B.
 
 246 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786 
 
 After twentieth stanza of the text : 
 
 Near by arose a mansion fine,* 
 The seat of many a muse divine ; 
 Not rustic muses such as mine, 
 
 With holly crown'd, 
 But th' ancient, tuneful, laurell'd Nine, 
 
 From classic ground. 
 
 I mourn'd the card that Fortune dealt, 
 To see where bonie Whitefoords dwelt ;f 
 But other prospects made me melt, 
 
 That village near;J 
 There Nature, Friendship, Love, I felt, 
 
 Fond-mingling dear ! 
 
 Hail ! Nature's pang, more strong than Death I 
 Warm Friendship's glow, like kindling wrath I 
 Love, dearer than the parting breath 
 
 Of dying friend ! 
 Not ev'n with life's wild devious path, 
 
 Your force shall end I 
 
 The Pow'r that gave the soft alarms 
 In blooming Whitefoord's rosy charms, 
 Still threats the tiny, feather'd arms, 
 
 The barbed dart, 
 While lovely Wilhelminia warms 
 
 The coldest heart j 
 
 After twenty-first stanza of the text : 
 
 Where Lugar leaves his moorland plaid, | 
 Where lately Want was idly laid, 
 I marked busy, bustling Trade, 
 
 In fervid flame, 
 Beneath a Patroness's aid, 
 
 Of noble name. 
 
 Wild, countless hills I could survey, 
 And countless flocks as wild as they; 
 But other scenes did charms display, 
 
 That better please, 
 Where polish'd manners dwell with Gray, 
 
 In rural ease.** 
 
 Where Cessnock pours with gurgling sound ; ff 
 And Irwine, marking out the bound, 
 
 * Auchinleck. R. B. f Ballochmyle. J Mauchline. 
 
 \ A compliment to Miss Wilhelmina Alexander as successor, in that locality, 
 to Miss Maria Whitefoord. 
 
 | Cumnock. R. B. . ** Mr. Farquhar Gray. R. B. 
 
 ft Auchinskieth. R. B.
 
 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 247 
 
 Enamor'd of the scenes around, 
 
 Slow runs his race, 
 
 A name I doubly honor'd found, * 
 
 With knightly grace. 
 
 Brydon's brave ward, t I saw him stand, 
 Fame humbly offering her hand, 
 And near, his kinsman's rustic band, I 
 
 With one accord, 
 lamenting their late blessed land 
 
 Must change its lord. 
 
 The owner of a pleasant spot, 
 Near sandy wilds, I last did note ; ? 
 A heart too warm, a pulse too hot 
 
 At times, o'erran ; 
 But large in ev'ry feature wrote, 
 
 Appear'd, the Man. 
 
 The greater portion of the MS. of these "suppressed stanzas" is 
 in the possession of Robert Jardine, Esq., of Castlemilk, Dumfries- 
 shire.] 
 
 (The VISION is remarkable in various ways. Irrespective of its 
 being a monument of Burns' creative genius, it shows us that he 
 could already express himself with elegance and ease in pure 
 English, as also that he had a just appreciation of his proper 
 calling, and a modest confidence in his own powers and the place 
 he was destined to occupy in the literature of his country. Be it 
 observed that this poem was produced before the publication of his 
 Kilmarnock edition, and therefore the voice of the general public 
 had not yet endorsed him as the "bard of Caledonia." Stanza 18 
 of Duan 2 has been objected to as a too daring vindication of his 
 errors. It may be so, yet the charge savors of ingratitude ; for 
 undoubtedly those very passions which led him astray contributed 
 much to the vigor and unrivalled richness and sweetness of his 
 songs. His own larks and linnets, thrushes and "merles," sang 
 ever clearest and fullest in the halcyon months of spring, when 
 they warbled to charm their dearies. J. H.) 
 
 * Caprington. R. B. 
 
 t Colonel Fullarton (see note p. 239).^. B. 
 
 JDr. Fullarton. R. B. \ Orangefield. .ff. A
 
 248 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786, 
 
 THE RANTIN DOG, THE DADDIE O'T. 
 
 Tune. " Whare '11 our gudeman lie.' 
 (JOHNSON'S MUSEUM, 1790.) 
 
 O WHA my babie-clouts will buy? baby-cioths) 
 
 J J (infants first dress* 
 
 O wha will tent me when I cry ?* 
 Wha will kiss me where I lie? 
 
 The rantin dog, the daddie eft. frolicking of it 
 
 O wha will own he did the faut f &uit 
 
 O wha will buy the groanin maut ? f child-birth malt 
 O wha will tell me how to cctt? nameit 
 
 The rantin dog, the daddie o't. 
 
 When I mount the creepie-chair, penance-stooi 
 
 Wha will sit beside me there? 
 Gie me Rob, I'll seek nae mair, give no more 
 The rantin dog, the daddie o't. 
 
 Wha will crack to me my lane? chat aione 
 
 Wha will mak vazfidgin fain? eagerly fond 
 
 Wha will kiss me o'er again? 
 The rantin dog, the daddie o't. 
 
 [The poet attached the following note to this production in the 
 copy of the " Museum " which belonged to his friend Mr. Riddell : 
 " I composed this song pretty early in life, and sent it to a young 
 girl, a particular acquaintance of mine, who was at that time under 
 a cloud." 
 
 Although previous annotators have held this to apply to Betty 
 Paton, our conjecture is that the young girl here referred to was 
 Jean Armour, and the period early in 1786, when the state 
 of matters between them could no longer be concealed.] (Lockhart 
 condemns the above song, and says it "exhibits the poet as glory- 
 ing, and only glorying in his shame." Sir Harris Nicolas, on the 
 
 *Who will attend to or nurse me when I am in child-bed? J. H. 
 
 t Refreshments for the " howdie " (midwife) and " kimmers " or gossips. J. H.
 
 &r. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 249 
 
 ther hand, says that both this song and the "Poefs Welcome," 
 inferring to a prior occasion of the same kind, "are remarkable 
 for the tenderness they breathe towards infant and mother alike." 
 Waddell regards the song as "the most perfect specimen of the 
 Scottish tongue ever written by Burns," and as detailing "the cir- 
 cumstances of such a painful situation with absolute pictorial 
 fidelity." J. H.) 
 
 HERE'S HIS HEALTH IN WATER. 
 
 Tune. "The Job of Journey-work." 
 (JOHNSON'S MUSEUM, 1796.) 
 
 AI/THO' my back be at the wa',* 
 
 And tho' he be the fautor ; inner 
 
 1*ho' my back be at the wa', 
 
 Yet, here's his health in water. 
 O wae gae by his wanton sides, woe worth 
 
 Sae brawlie 1 s he could flatter finely 
 
 Till for his sake I'm slighted sair, sore 
 
 And dree the kintra Clatter: endure country scandal 
 
 But tho' my back be at the wa', 
 Yet here's his health in water ! 
 
 [Another verse of this song, although not in the poet's hand- 
 writing, was found among the numerous scraps which were for- 
 warded to the late Mr. Pickering ; but as its genuineness cannot 
 be ascertained, we consign it to small type : 
 
 He follow'd me baith out an' in 
 
 The deil haet could I baffle'm ! deuce a bit 
 
 He follow'd me baith out an" in, 
 
 Thro' a' the neuks o' Mauchlin : corners 
 
 And whan he gat me in his grips, laid hold of me 
 
 Sae brawly did he flatter, finely 
 
 That had a saint been in my stead, 
 
 She'd been as great a fautor : sinner 
 
 But let them say cr let them do, 
 
 Here's Robin's health in water ! 
 
 Although iust now I am under a cloud. J. H.
 
 250 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. 
 
 Stenhouse, in his note to this song, states that Burns threw it 
 off in jocular allusion to his own and Jean Armour's awkward 
 predicament before their marriage. Allan Cunningham, however, 
 denounces the suggestion as barbarous and insulting to both the 
 lovers. For our part, we see no flagrant inaptitude in the conjec- 
 ture of Stenhouse.] 
 
 ADDRESS TO THE UNCO GUID. uncommonly, 
 
 ' good / 
 
 OR THE RIGIDLY RIGHTEOUS. 
 (EDINBURGH ED., 1787.) 
 
 My Son, these maxims make a rule, 
 
 An' lump them ay thegither; 
 The Rigid Righteous is a fool, 
 
 The Rigid Wise anither : 
 The cleanest corn that e'er was dight fanned 
 
 May hae some pyles o' caff in ; particles chaff 
 
 So ne'er a fellow-creature slight 
 
 For random fits o' daffin. frolicking 
 
 SOLOMON Eccles. ch. vii. verse 16. 
 
 O YE wha are sae guid yoursel, so good 
 
 Sae pious and sae holy, 
 Ye've nought to do but mark and tell 
 
 Your neibours' fauts and folly ! faults 
 
 Whase life is like a weel-gaun mill, wen-going 
 
 Supplied wi' store o' water ; 
 The heapet happer's ebbing still, 
 
 An' still the clap plays clatter. 
 
 Hear me, ye venerable core, 
 
 As counsel for poor mortals 
 That frequent pass douce Wisdom's door prudent 
 
 For glaikit Folly's portals : giddy 
 
 I, for their thoughtless, careless sakes, 
 
 Would here propone defences state 
 
 Their donsie tricks, their black mistakes morall y \ 
 
 *rvi r -1 i unlucky/ 
 
 Their failings and mischances.
 
 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 
 
 Ye see your state wi' theirs compared, 
 
 And shudder at the niffer ; 
 But cast a moment's fair regard, 
 
 What maks the mighty differ ? 
 Discount what scant occasion gave, 
 
 That purity ye pride in ; 
 And (what's aft mair than #' the lave] ftm o r e> 
 
 ' all the rest / 
 
 Your better art o' hidm. 
 
 Think, when your castigated pulse 
 
 Gies now and then a wallop ! gives strong beat 
 What ragings must his veins convulse, 
 
 That still eternal gallop ! 
 Wi' wind and tide fair z' your tail, abaft 
 
 Right on ye scud your sea-way ; 
 But in the teeth o' baith to sail, both 
 
 It makes an unco lee- way. very great 
 
 See Social Life and Glee sit down, 
 
 All joyous and unthinking, 
 Till, quite tran smugrify* d, they're grown metan V )r 'j 
 
 Debauchery and Drinking: 
 O would they stay to calculate 
 
 Th' eternal consequences ; 
 Or your more dreaded hell to state, 
 
 Damnation of expenses ! 
 
 Ye high, exalted, virtuous dames, 
 
 Tied up in godly laces, 
 Before ye gie poor Frailty names, miscall poor Frailty 
 
 Suppose a change o' cases ; 
 A dear-lov'd lad, convenience snug, 
 
 A treach'rous inclination ; 
 "Sut, let me whisper i' your lug, ear 
 
 Ye' re aiblins nae temptation, perhaps no
 
 252 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. 
 
 * Then gently scan your brother man, 
 
 Still gentler sister woman ; 
 Tho' they may gang a kennin wrang, slight degree 
 
 To step aside is human : 
 One point must still be greatly dark, 
 
 The moving WHY they do it ; 
 And just as lamely can ye mark, 
 
 How far perhaps they rue it. 
 
 Who made the heart, 'tis He alone 
 
 Decidedly can try us ; 
 He knows each chord, its various tone, 
 
 Each spring, its various bias : 
 Then at the balance let's be mute, 
 
 We never can adjust it ; 
 What's done we partly may compute, 
 
 But know not what's resisted. 
 
 [This is pre-eminently one of those poems whose lines become 
 "mottoes of the heart." In all likelihood, the period in Burns' life 
 we have now reached, in the order of our chronology, was the date 
 of its composition : yet it is rather remarkable that he withheld it 
 from publication in his Kilmarnock edition of that year. There is 
 a prose passage inserted in his Common-place Book, under date 
 March, 1784, in which the line of reflection and argument is very 
 similar to that in this poem. The passage being somewhat lengthy, 
 we refer the reader to it in another portion of this work.] 
 
 ("A more beautiful blending of humor with the purest charity 
 and wisdom is, perhaps, not to be found in any similar composition 
 in any language." Such is the verdict of P. Hately Waddell on 
 this wonderful production, and the great heart of the world answers, 
 Amen ! J. H.) 
 
 A modern poetess. Miss Adelaide Proctor, has very elegantly elaborated the 
 sentiment of these two verses, and in all probability she got the idea from Burns : 
 " Judge not ; the working of his brain 
 
 And of his heart thou canst not see ; 
 What looks to thy dim eyes a stain, 
 
 In God's pure light may only be 
 A scar, brought from some well-fought field, 
 Where thou wouldst only faint and yield."
 
 f. 28.] /OEMS AND SONGS. 253 
 
 THE INVENTORY ; 
 
 IN ANSWER TO A MANDATE BY THE SURVEYOR OF 
 
 THE TAXES. 
 
 (CURRIE, I800, COMPD. WITH STEWART, l8oi.) 
 
 SIR, as your mandate did request, 
 
 I send you here a faithfu' list, 
 
 O' gudes an' gear, an' a' my graith, cash substance 
 
 To which I'm clear to gVe my aith. give oath 
 
 Imprimis, then, for carriage cattle, 
 I hae four brutes o' gallant mettle, have 
 
 As ever drew before a pettle. plough-stick 
 
 My hand-afore' s* a guid auld 'has been,' good old 
 An' wight an' wilfu 1 a' his days been ; powerful wiiifui 
 My hand-ahin'sf a weel gaun fillie, wen-going 
 
 That aft has borne me hame frae Killie, Kiimamock 
 An' your auld borough mony a time,J 
 In days when riding was nae crime. 
 [But ance, when in my wooing pride once 
 
 I, like a blockhead, boost to ride, behoved 
 
 The wilfu' creature sae I pat to, pushed 
 
 (L d pardon a' my sins, an' that too !) 
 I play'd my fillie sic a shavie, trick 
 
 She's a' bedevil' d wi' the spavieJ\ spavin 
 
 My furr-ahin's a wordy beast, worthy 
 
 As e'er in tug or to7t> was traced. trace or rope 
 
 The fourth's a Highland Donald hastie, quicktempered 
 A d n'd red-wud Kilburnie blastie \ || stark-mad imp 
 
 * Fore horse on the left hand in the plough. 
 
 t Hindmost on the left hand in the plough. 
 
 JAyr. 
 
 \ Hindmost on the right hand in the Plough 
 
 | He had bought it at Kilbirnie fair.
 
 254 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. 
 
 Foreby a cowt o' cowts the wale^ coit choice 
 
 As ever ran before a tail : 
 
 Gin he be spar'd to be a beast, 
 
 He'll draw me fifteen pnnd at least. pounds sterling 
 
 Wheel-carriages I ha'e but few, 
 
 Three carts, an' twa are feckly new ; nearly 
 
 An auld wheelbarrow, mair for token, 
 
 Ae leg an' baith the trams are broken ; both bandies 
 
 I made a poker o' the spin'le, 
 
 An' my auld mither brunt the trirtle. burned wheel 
 
 For men, I've three mischievous boys, 
 Run-deils for ranting an' for noise ; mad caps frolic 
 A gaudsman* ane, a thrasher t' other : 
 Wee Davock hands the nowt in father. holds r cattle ) 
 
 fodder ' 
 
 I rule them as I ought, discreetly, 
 
 An' aften labor them completely ; 
 
 An' ay on Sundays duly, nightly, 
 
 I on the ' ' Questions ' ' f targe them tightly ; examine 
 
 Till, faith ! wee Davock* s\ grown sae gleg, ^arp/ 
 
 Tho' scarcely langer than your leg, taiier 
 
 He'll screed you off Effectual Calling, re P eat without i 
 
 , hesitation > 
 
 As fast as ony in the dwallmg. 
 
 I've nane in female servan' station, 
 
 (L d keep me ay frae a' temptation !) always from 
 
 I hae nae wife and that my bliss is, 
 
 An' ye have laid nae tax on misses ; 
 
 An' then, if kirk folks dinna clutch me, do not 
 
 I ken the deevils darena touch me. dare not 
 
 Wi' weans I'm mair than weel contented children 
 
 Heav'n sent me ane mair than I wanted: one more 
 
 * A driver of the plough team : the name is derived from the practice of using 
 a gaud or goad to incite the animals, especially where oxen are employed. 
 J. H. 
 
 t On the Shorter Catechism of the Westminster Assembly of Divines. Every 
 decent farmer catechized his servants on it each Sabbath evening. "What is 
 Effectual Calling" is one of the questions. J. H. 
 
 J The diminutive termination ock or oc is almost peculiar to Ayrshire ; thus, 
 there, a young girl is either lassie or lassock, elsewhere in Scotland it is only 
 lassie. J. H.
 
 . 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 255 
 
 My sonsie, smirking, dear bought Bess,* plump 
 
 She stares the daddy in her face,f 
 
 Enough of ought ye like but grace : 
 
 But her, my bonie, sweet wee lady, 
 
 I've paid enough for her already ; 
 
 Ari 1 gin ye tax her or her mither, and if 
 
 By the Lr- d, ye j se get them ' thegither! you win > 
 
 ' *^ altogether) 
 
 And now, remember, Mr. Aiken, 
 Nae kind of licence out I'm takin : 
 
 [Frae this time forth, I do declare from 
 Pse ne'er ride horse nor hizzie mair ;] iwm hussy 
 
 Thro' dirt and dub for life I'll paidle, wade 
 Ere I sae dear pay for a saddle, 
 
 My travel a', on foot I'll shank it, foot it 
 
 I've sturdy bearers, Gude be thankit ! legs 
 [The kirk and you may tak' you that, 
 
 It puts but little in your pat ; % pot 
 Sae dinna put me in your beuk do not tax-book 
 
 Nor for my ten white shillings leuk.~\ look 
 
 This list, wi' my ain hand I wrote it, 
 The day and date as under noted ; 
 Then know all ye whom it concerns, 
 Subscripsi huic, ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 MOSSGIEL, February 22, 1786. 
 
 [In May, 1785, with a view to liquidate ten millions of unfunded 
 debt, Mr. Pitt made a large addition to the number of taxed 
 articles, and amongst these were female-servants. It became the 
 duty of Mr. Aiken, as tax-surveyor for the district, to serve the 
 usual notice on Burns, who, on receipt of it, made his return in 
 the verses which form our text. Several passages, here marked 
 with brackets, were omitted by Currie ; these are supplied from 
 Stewart.] 
 
 *The poet's child, then an inmate of Mossgiel, and about fifteen months old. 
 See note, page 69. J. H. 
 
 t Resembles her father in every feature ; is the very image of her father. J. H. 
 
 \ The Church and you (as tax-gatherer) may both take this threat (or vow) to 
 yourselves ; it promises to put but little in either of your pots. J. H.
 
 256 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786 
 
 (Mr. Aiken was one of the earliest to recognize Burns' genius, 
 and to lead others to recognize it, even before the publication of 
 the Kilmarnock edition. See note to "VISION," p. 243. J. H.) 
 
 TO JOHN KENNEDY, DUMFRIES HOUSE. 
 
 (CUNNINGHAM'S ED., 1834.) 
 
 Now, Kennedy, if foot or horse 
 
 E'er bring you in by Mauchlin corse, market-cross 
 
 (Lord, man, there's lasses there wad force would 
 
 A hermit's fancy ; 
 An' down the gate in faith they're worse, way 
 
 An' mair unchancy.} more dan-, 
 
 * ' gerous j 
 
 But as I'm sayin, please step to Dow's, 
 An' taste sic gear as Johnie brews, such stuff 
 
 Till some bit callan bring me news boy or other 
 That ye are there; 
 
 An' if We dinna hae a bouze, do not hare a carousal 
 
 Fse ne'er drink mair. Iwin ) 
 
 more/ 
 
 It's no I like to sit an' swallow, 
 Then like a swine to puke an' wallow ; 
 But gie me just a true good fallow, give 
 
 Wi' right ingine,. . & enius > 
 
 j , T . , \Latimngemuml 
 
 And spunkie ance to make us mellow game f or once 
 An' then we'll shine. 
 
 Now if ye' re ane o* warVs folk of the world's 
 
 Wha rate the wearer by the cloak, who 
 
 An' sklent on poverty their joke, aquint 
 
 Wi' bitter sneer, 
 Wi' you nae friendship I will troke, no trade 
 
 Nor cheap nor dear,
 
 &1. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 257 
 
 But if, as I'm informed weel, 
 Ye hate as ill's the vera deil 
 The flinty heart that canna feel cannot 
 
 Come, sir, here's to you 1 
 Hae, there's my haun, I wiss you weel, hand wish 
 
 An' gude be wi } you. J^ 1 ^} 
 
 ROBT. BURNESS. 
 MOSSGIEL, 3rd March, 1786. 
 
 [The above lines, collated with the original MS., obligingly 
 communicated by its present possessor, John Adam, Esq., Greenock, 
 form the concluding portion of a letter addressed to Kennedy, in 
 reply to a request from him to be favored with a perusal of the 
 "Cotter's Saturday Night." The poet immediately complied by 
 sending his only copy of that poem ; merely requesting his cor- 
 respondent to make a copy, and return either the original or the 
 transcript. It appears now to be certain that Kennedy adopted 
 the latter course, and retained the holograph, which, along with 
 several letters addressed by Burns to Kennedy, was purchased, 
 about forty years ago, by Mr. Cochrane, the London publisher, 
 and by him presented to Allan Cunningham. 
 
 Kennedy, in 1786, was factor to Patrick, the last Earl of Dum- 
 fries, resident at Dumfries House, about half-way between Ochiltree 
 and Auchinleck, now the property of the Earl of Bute. In the 
 old Calton burial-ground at Edinburgh, is yet to be seen the 
 grave-stone of Burns' early friend, bearing the following inscrip- 
 tion : "In memory of John Kennedy, who died at Edinburgh 
 1 9th June, 1812, aged 55. He was 13 years Factor to the Earl 
 of Dumfries, and 18 to the Earl of Breadalbine." He would thus 
 be born about two years before our bard.] 
 
 TO MR. M'ADAM, OF CRAIGEN-GILLAN, 
 
 IN ANSWER TO AN OBLIGING LETTER HE SENT IN 
 COMMENCEMENT OF MY POETIC CAREER. 
 
 (CROMEK, 1808.) 
 
 SIR, o'er a gill I gat your card, of whisky got 
 I trow it made me proud ; * assure yon 
 
 Burns' freouent affectation of dissipation might lead to the supposition that 
 be was already a victim to the vice. That this was not the case we have abun- 
 
 L Q
 
 258 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786^ 
 
 ' See wha taks notice o' the bard I ' 
 I lap and cry'd fu' loud. leapt 
 
 Now deil-ma-care about their jaw, coarse talk/ 
 
 The senseless, gawky million ; siiiy 
 
 I'll cock my nose aboon them a', abova 
 
 I'm roos'd by Craigen-Gillan ! * praised 
 
 'Twas noble, sir ; 'twas like yoursel, 
 
 To grant your high protection : 
 A great man's smile ye ken fu' well, know 
 
 Is ay a blest infection. 
 
 Tho', by hisf banes wha in a tub bone* 
 
 Match' d Macedonian Sandy! Alexander the great 
 
 On my ain legs thro' dirt and dub, own 
 
 I independent stand ay, 
 
 And when those legs to gude, warm kail bariey-broth 
 
 Wi' welcome canna bear me, 
 A lee dyke-side, J a sybow-tail, leek 
 
 An' barley-scone shall cheer me. 
 
 Heaven spare you lang to kiss the breath 
 
 O' mony flow'ry simmers ! 
 An' bless your bonie lasses baith^ Votfc 
 
 I'm tauld they're loosome kimmers! loveabie girl* 
 
 An' God bless young Dunaskin's laird, 
 
 The blossom of our gentry 1 
 An' may he wear an auld man's beard, 
 
 A credit to his country. 
 
 dant evidence, in addition to his brother's direct testimony. For one thing, he 
 had at this time no money to spend on drink. J. H. 
 
 *It is the custom in Scotland to name "lairds" after their estates and farmer* 
 after their farms. J. H. 
 
 t Diogenes. 
 
 J The lee side of a dyke. A dyke is a wall of sods or dry stone*. 
 
 | A soft cake of barley-meal.
 
 TO A LOUSE 
 
 " O wad some Power the giftie gie us 
 To see oursels as ithers see us! "
 
 .SJT.. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 259 
 
 [About March, 1786, we suppose to have been the date of the 
 above verses. The poet thought so well of this little production 
 that he included it in the Glenriddell collection of his early 
 poems, where he states that it was an extempore composition, 
 "wrote in Nanse Tinnock's, Mauchline." Craigengillan is a con- 
 siderable estate in Carrick. Mr. David Woodburn, factor for its 
 owner, was on such friendly terms with Burns, that he received 
 from him a copy of the celebrated cantata, "The Jolly Beggars" 
 the same which afterwards passed into the hands of Thomas 
 Stewart, the publisher. (An additional portion was given to Stewart 
 by his uncle, Mr. John Richmond, of Mauchline. See note to 
 "Jolly Beggars." J. H.] 
 
 TO A LOUSE. 
 
 ON SEEING ONE ON A LADY'S BONNET AT CHURCH. 
 
 (KlLMARNOCK ED., 1786.) 
 
 where are ye going j 
 
 HA! whaur ye gaun, ye crawlinyr/z/ wonder/ 
 
 Your impudence protects you sairlie ; wonderfully 
 I canna say but ye strunt rarely, cannot strut 
 
 Owre gauze and lace ; over 
 Tho' faith ! I fear, ye dine but sparely 
 
 On sic a place. such 
 
 Ye ugly, creepin, blastet wonner, blasted imp 
 
 Detested, shunn'd by saunt an' sinner, saint 
 
 How daur ye set your fit upon her dare foot 
 
 Sae fine a lady? so 
 
 Gae somewhere else, and seek your dinner go 
 
 On some poor body. 
 
 Swith ! in some beggar's hauffet squattle,* 
 
 W? ither kindred, jumping cattle ; with other 
 
 Off with you ! and nestle in some beggar's side-locks.
 
 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. 
 
 There ye may creep, an sprawl, and sprattle scramble 
 In shoals and nations ; 
 
 WTiaur horn nor bane * ne' er daur unsettle where I 
 Your thick plantations, colonies 
 
 Now haudyou there, ye' re out o' sight, stay where y u I 
 Below fat fotfreb snug an tight; puckers 
 
 Na, faith ye yet / ye'll no be right, no tang you! 
 
 Till ye've got on it 
 The vera tapmost, tow'rin height 
 
 O' Miss's bonnet 
 
 My sooth ! right bauld ye set your nose out, bold 
 As plump an' grey as ony groset : gooseberry 
 
 for some rank, mercurial rozet, ointment 
 
 Or fell red smeddum. deadl y \ 
 
 TJ -L j I.L powder/ 
 
 I'd gie you sic a hearty dose o't, gi ve such 
 
 Wad dress your droddum! breech 
 
 1 wad nae been surpris'd to spy 
 
 You on an auld wife's flannen toy; flannel cap 
 
 Or aiblins some bit duddie boy, perhaps ragged 
 
 On'S WylieCOat ; under-jacket 
 
 But Miss's fine Lunar di!\ fye ! baiioon-shaped bonnet 
 How daur ye do't? dare 
 
 O Jeany, dinna toss your head, do not 
 
 An' set your beauties a' abreid! abroad 
 
 Ye little ken what cursed speed know 
 
 The blastie^s makin : mtieimp 
 
 Thae winks an' finger-ends, I dread, tnee 
 
 Are notice takin 
 
 Small-toothed comb of bone or horn. 
 
 f Vincent Lunardi, on September 15, 1784, ascended from London in an air-bal- 
 loon the earliest attempt in Britain ; and on sth October, 1785, he performed 
 a like feat from Heriot's Green, at Edinburgh. Being a novelty and, therefore, 
 in the fashion, a particular kind of lady's hat was named after him. J. H.
 
 T. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 261 
 
 O wad some Power the gtftie gie us, would gift give 
 To see oursels as ithers see us ! ourselves others 
 
 It wad frae mony a blunder free us, would from 
 
 An' foolish notion : 
 What airs in dress an' gait wad letfe us, ie*e 
 
 An' ev'n devotion ! 
 
 [The author was fond of selecting the lower animals as subjects 
 for his muse. We have already seen how much he made of the 
 pet-ewe, the disabled mare, the two dogs, the field-mouse ; and 
 now he extracts a moral that can never die from the most con- 
 temptible little animal in nature. Some even of the admirers 
 of Burns have expressed a wish that this poem had never been 
 written ; but the last stanza soon became a world-wide proverbial 
 quotation ; and if poetical merit is to be estimated by such 
 instant and universal recognition, this piece ranks high among 
 his happiest productions. J. H.] 
 
 INSCRIBED ON A WORK OF HANNAH 
 MORE'S, 
 
 PRESENTED TO THE AUTHOR BY A LADY. 
 (CUNNINGHAM'S ED., 1834.) 
 
 THOU flatt'ring mark of friendship kind, 
 Still may thy pages call to mind 
 The dear, the beauteous, donor ; 
 Tho' sweetly female ev'ry part, 
 Yet such a head, and more the heart 
 
 Does both the sexes honor : 
 She show'd her taste refin'd and just, 
 
 When she selected thee ; 
 Yet deviating, own I must, 
 For sae approving me : 
 
 But kind still I'll mind still 
 
 The giver in the gift ; 
 I'll bless her, an' wiss her 
 
 A Friend aboon the lift. above
 
 262 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. 
 
 [The poet enclosed a copy of this inscription in a letter to 
 Mr. Robert Aiken, dated 3d April, 1786. His plan of publishing 
 a volume of his poems at Kilmarnock was then completed, for 
 he says to his friend and patron, " My proposals for publishing 
 I am just going to send to the press." It is very remarkable 
 that no biographer or editor of Burns has ever stated or suggested 
 the name of the lady, "Mrs. C.," who showed that mark of early 
 attention to Burns, although he refers to it as "the second flat- 
 tering instance of Mrs. C.'s notice and approbation." 
 
 Upon no authority beyond reasonable surmise, we venture to say 
 that the lady was Mrs. Cunninghame, of Enterkin, a daughter 
 of Mrs. Stewart, of Stair, and a distant relative of Mr. Aiken. 
 
 On 20th March, the poet had written to Robert Muir, of Kil- 
 marnock, hoping to have the pleasure of seeing him there, "before 
 we hear the gowk" *. e., before the cuckoo (the "harbinger of 
 spring") is heard. That was, of course, to arrange about the 
 printing of his poems ; and it is very likely that when he went 
 to Kilmarnock he had his poem of the "Ordination," and per- 
 haps a sketch of the " Holy Fair " also, in his pocket, both of 
 those pieces being closely associated with the clerical history of 
 that town.] 
 
 THE HOLY FAIR.* 
 
 ED., 1786.) 
 
 A robe of seeming truth and trust 
 
 Hid crafty observation ; 
 And secret hung, with poison'd crust, 
 
 The dirk of defamation : 
 A mask that like the gorget show'd, 
 
 Dye-varying on the pigeon ; 
 And for a mantle large and broad, 
 
 He wrapt him in Religion. 
 
 HYPOCRISY A-LA-MODB. 
 
 UPON a simmer Sunday mom, 
 When Nature's face is fair, 
 
 I walked forth to view the corn, 
 An' snuff the caller air. 
 
 "Holy Fair" is a common phrase in the west of Scotland for a sacramental 
 occasion. R. B. In Scotland the word "sacrament" is popularly limited to the 
 communion or eucharist. J. H.
 
 28.] 
 
 POEMS AND SONGS. 
 
 263 
 
 glancing 
 
 iark 
 fail 
 
 wenches 
 
 walking rapidly 
 
 mantles of 
 
 one with gray 
 
 walked uttte 
 
 The rising sun owre Galston * muirs 
 Wi' glorious light was glintin; 
 
 The hares were hirplin down ih&fur 
 The laverocks they were chantin 
 Fu? sweet that day. 
 
 As lightsomely I glowed abroad 
 
 To see a scene sae gay, 
 Three hizzies^ early at the road, 
 
 Cam skelpin up the way. 
 Twa had manteeles o 1 dolefu' black, 
 
 But ane wl lyart lining ; 
 The third, that gaed a wee a-back, 
 
 Was in the fashion shining, 
 
 Fu' gay that day. 
 
 The twa appear' d like sisters twin, 
 
 In feature, form, an' class ; 
 Their visage wither' d, lang an' thin, 
 
 An' sour as ony slaes : aloe* 
 
 The third cam up, hap-stap-ari* -lowp> hop-step and jump 
 
 As light as ony lambie, 
 An' wi' a curchie low did stoop, 
 
 As soon as e'er she saw me, 
 
 Fu' kind that day. 
 
 Wi* bonnet (iff, qUOth I, " Sweet laSS, with head uncovered 
 
 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, 
 u Ye, for my sake, hae gien the feck 
 
 Of a 
 
 know 
 
 ' the ten Commands 
 
 A screed some day." 
 
 gi^en mo* 
 
 commandment! 
 
 nt 
 
 An upland parish to the east of Kilxnarnock. J. H.
 
 264 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. 
 
 u My name is Fun your cronie dear, comrade 
 
 The nearest friend ye hae ; 
 An' this is Superstition here, 
 
 An' that's Hypocrisy. 
 I'm gaun to Mauchline 'holy fair,* 
 
 To spend an hour in daffin: 
 Gin ye' 11 go there, yon runkf d pair, tf wrinkled 
 We will get famous laughin 
 
 At them this day." 
 
 Quoth I, "Wi' a' my heart, I'll do't; 
 
 I'll get my Sunday's sark on, hirt 
 
 An' meet you on the holy spot ; 
 
 Faith, we'se hae fine remarkin ! " 
 Then I gaed hame at crowdie-imi^ * went breakfast 
 
 An* soon I made me ready ; 
 For roads were clad, frae side to side, 
 
 Wi' mony a wearie body, toiling 
 
 In droves that day. 
 
 Here farmers gash, in ridin graith, wlse and solemn > 
 Gaed hoddin by their cotters ; ^^^ jogging past cottagers 
 
 There swankies young, in braw braid-claith, f 
 Are springing owre the gutters. over 
 
 The lasses, skelpin barefit, thrang, J 
 In silks an' scarlets glitter ; 
 
 Wi' sweet-milk cheese, in mony a whang 
 
 An' farls, bak'd wi' butter, oatmeai cakes 
 
 Fu' crump that day. crisp 
 
 When by the 'plate' we set our nose, 
 Weel heaped up wi' ha'pence, 
 
 Tse regular Scotch breakfast of the working classes was oat-meal porridge 
 ad tailk. Crowdie means any food of the porridge kind. J. H. 
 fThere young strapping fellows in fine broadcloth. J. H. 
 {The girls hurrying along barefooted in throngs. j. H.
 
 38.] POEMS AND SONGS. 265 
 
 A greedy glowr ' black-bonnet ' * throws, stare 
 
 An' we maun draw our tippence. must l 
 
 ** twopence) 
 
 Then in we go to see the show : 
 
 On ev'ry side they're gath'rin ; 
 Some carryin dails, some chairs an' stools, pianks 
 
 An' some are busy bletftrin talking loosely 
 
 Right loud that day. 
 
 Here stands a shed to fend the show'rs, warded 
 
 An' screen our countra gentry ; t 
 There ' Racer Jess, ' | an' twa-three wh-res, 
 
 Are blinkin at the entry. 
 Here sits a raw o' tittlin jads, tittering jades 
 
 Wi' heavin breasts an' bare neck ; 
 An' there a batch o' wabster lads, group weaver 
 
 Blackguardin frae Kilmarnock, 
 
 For fun this day. 
 
 Here some are thinkin on their sins, 
 
 An' some upo' their claes ; clothes 
 
 Ane curses feet that fyPd his shins, bedaubed ankles 
 
 Anither sighs an' prays : 
 On this hand sits a chosen swatch, sample 
 
 Wi' screw' d-up, grace-proud faces ; 
 On that a set o' chaps, at watch, young fellows 
 
 Thrang winkin on the lasses busy 
 
 To chairs that day. 
 
 A cant name for the elder who stood at " the plate " on which the offerings 
 were deposited at the entrance to the place of meeting. J. H. 
 
 f The communion used to be celebrated out of doors in the church-yard or a 
 field near the church, and a temporary shed was put up to give shelter from 
 the weather to the aristocracy who attended. The whole thing was not unlike 
 an American camp-meeting, excepting that in Scotland the communion was cele- 
 brated, and the out-of-doors services lasted only one day. J. H. 
 
 J February, 1813, died at Mauchline, Janet Gibson the " Racer Jess " of Burns' 
 ' Holy Fair," remarkable for her pedestrian feats. She was a daughter of 
 "Poosie Nansie" who figures in "The Jolly Beggars." Newspaper Obituary. 
 
 \ Kilmarnock "wabsters," like their brethren of the loom elsewhere, had a 
 peculiar taste for theological polemics. Political polemics was then denied them, 
 io they gave themselves vent on religion. See opening of " Ordination." Kit 
 marnock people always disliked this allusion. J. H.
 
 266 
 
 POEMS AND SONGS. 
 
 [1786. 
 
 O happy is that man, an' blest ! 
 
 Nae wonder that it pride him ! 
 Whase ain dear lass, that he likes best, whose own 
 
 Comes clinkin down beside him ! daps herself 
 
 Wi' arm repos'd on the chair back, 
 
 He sweetly does compose him ; 
 Which, by degrees, slips round her neck, 
 
 Arts loofnpon her bosom, andhispaim 
 
 Unkend that day.* as if unconscious 
 
 Now a* the congregation o'er 
 
 Is silent expectation ; 
 For Moodie speels the holy door,f 
 
 Wi' tidings o' damnation : J 
 Should Hornie^ as in ancient days, 
 
 ^Mang sons o' God present him, 
 The vera sight o' Moodie' s face, 
 
 To 's ain het hame had sent him 
 W? fright that day. 
 
 satan 
 among 
 
 own hot home 
 -with 
 
 Hear how he clears the points o' Faith 
 
 Wi' rattlin and thumpin ! 
 Now meekly calm, now wild in wrath, 
 
 He's stampin, an' he's jumpin ! 
 His lengthen' d chin, his turned-up snout, 
 
 His eldritch squeel an' gestures, unearthly 
 
 O how they fire the heart devout, 
 
 Like cantharidian plaisters 
 
 On sic a day ! 
 
 But hark ! the tent has chang'd its voice ; 
 There's peace an' rest nae langer ; no 
 
 * " This verse sets boldly out with a line of a psalm. It is the best description 
 erer was drawn. 'Unkend that day' surpasses all." James Hogg. 
 
 fRev. Alexander Moodie of Riccarton, one of the heroes of the "Twa Herds." 
 His personal appearance and style of oratory are not here caricatured by the 
 poet. Trans, from Culross, 1762. Died February 15, 1799. The " holy door " U 
 the door giving entrance to the tent whence the ministers preached. J. H. 
 
 {Altered from ' salvation," by suggestion of Dr. Hugh Blair.
 
 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 267 
 
 For a' the real judges rise, 
 
 They canna sit for anger, cmio 
 
 Smith * opens out his cauld harangues, 
 
 On practice and on morals ; 
 Ari 1 off the godly pour in thrangs, and off throngs 
 
 To gie the jars an' barrels give 
 
 A lift that day. 
 
 What signifies his barren shine, 
 
 Of moral pow'rs an' reason? 
 His English style, an' gesture fine 
 
 Are a* clean out o 1 season. an of 
 
 Like Socrates or Antonine, 
 
 Or some auld pagan heathen, 
 The moral man he does define, 
 
 But ne'er a word o' faith in 
 
 That's right that day. 
 
 In guid time comes an antidote 
 
 Against sic poison' d nostrum ; 
 For Peebles,! frae the water-fit, 
 
 Ascends the holy rostrum : 
 See, up he's got the word o' God, 
 
 An' meek an' mim has view' d it, affectedly demure 
 
 *Rev. George (subsequently Dr.) Smith of Galston, referred to in the "Twa 
 Herds" and also in a different feeling, under the appellation of "Irvine Side" 
 in the " Kirk's Alarm." Ord. 1778. Died 1823. Burns here meant to compliment 
 him on his rational mode of preaching and refined style, but his friends regarded 
 the stanzas as calculated to injure him ; His son, also Rev. Dr. George Smith, 
 succeeded Dr. Guthrie in 1843 in the Old Greyfriars Church, Edinburgh. He mar- 
 ried a daughter of George Hogarth, the musical composer and art-critic, and 
 grand-daughter of George Thomson, Burns' correspondent, and publisher of so 
 many of his finest songs. Mrs. Dickens was another grand-daughter of Thomson, 
 and sister to Mrs. Smith. J. H. 
 
 fRev. Wm. Peebles of "The Water- Fit," or Newton-upon-Ayr (where th river 
 Ayr flows into the sea). Ord. 1778, made a D.D. in 1795, and died in 1825, 
 aged 74.
 
 268 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. 
 
 While ' Common-sense ' * has taen the road, take* 
 An' aff an' up the Cowgate f 
 
 Fast, fast that day. 
 
 Wee Miller | niest, the Guard relieves, next 
 
 An' Orthodoxy raibles, pours out confusedly 
 
 Tho' in his heart he weel believes, weu 
 
 An' thinks it auld wives' fables : 
 But faith ! the birkie wants a manse, smart feiiow 
 
 So, cannilie he hums them ; knowingly humbugs 
 Altho' his carnal wit an' sense 
 
 Like hafflins-wise o'ercomes him half 
 
 At times that day. 
 
 Now butt an' ben\ the change-house fills, 
 
 Wi' yill-caup commentators ; aie-mug 
 
 Here's cryin out for bakes an' gills, biscuits whisky 
 
 An' there the pint-stowp clatters ; pint-measure 
 
 While thick an' thrang, an' loud an' lang, busily 
 
 Wi' logic an' wi' scripture, 
 They raise a din, that in the end not* 
 
 Is like to breed a rupture 
 
 O' wrath that day. 
 
 Leeze me on drink ! it gies us mair >ni ldmet0 } 
 
 gives more > 
 
 Than either school or college ; 
 
 It ken 1 leS wit, it WClukenS lear, kindles awakens learning 
 
 It pangs us fou o' knowledge : crams fun 
 
 *We learn from Chambers, who states it on local authority, that Mr. Macken- 
 zie, surgeon of Mauchline, and friend of Burns, had recently written on some 
 topic under the pseudonym of Common-sense. He was engaged this day to dine 
 at Dumfries House with the Earl of Dumfries, so, after listening to some of the 
 harangues, he left the meeting and set off along the Cowgate to keep his appoint- 
 ment. J. H. 
 
 f A street so called which faces the tent in Mauchline. R. B. 
 
 I Rev. Alex. Miller, afterwards of Kilmaurs, a short, paunchy man, supposed 
 to be at heart a " moderate." " This stanza," says Chambers, " virtually the most 
 depreciatory in the poem, is said to have retarded Miller's advancement." Ord. 
 in Kilmaurs, 1788. Died in 1804. 
 
 {Kitchen and spence. See note to "The Vision," p. 234.
 
 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 269 
 
 Be't whisky-gill or penny-wheep, * 
 
 Or ony stronger potion, any 
 
 It never fails, on drinkin deep, 
 
 To kittle up our notion. tickle 
 
 By night or day. 
 
 The lads an' lasses, blythely bent cheerily 
 
 To mind baith saul an' body, bothsoui 
 
 Sit round the table, weel content, 
 
 An' steer about the toddy: stir hot scotch 
 
 On this ane* s dress, an' that ane's leuk, one's look 
 
 They're makin observations ; 
 While some are cozie i' the neuk, mug comer 
 
 An' forming assignations 
 
 To meet some day. 
 
 But now the L 's ain trumpet touts, own 
 
 Till a' the hills are rairin, roaring with echoes 
 
 And echoes back-return the shouts ; 
 
 Black Russell is na spairin : f o* 
 
 His piercin words, like highlan' swords, 
 
 Divide the joints an' marrow ; 
 His talk o' Hell, whare devils dwell, 
 
 Our vera " sauls does harrow "J KWJ* 
 
 Wi' fright that day ! 
 
 A vast, unbottom'd, boundless pit, 
 
 Fill'd fou o' lowin brunstane, fail blazing 
 
 Whase ragin flame, an' scorchin heat, 
 
 Wad melt the hardest whun-stane I wninstone 
 
 The half-asleep start up wi' fear, 
 
 An' think they hear it roarin ; 
 
 Very small ale (sometimes made from molasses) that costs two cents, or a 
 penny a quart bottle. J. H. 
 
 + Rev. John Russell, one of the "Twa Herds," and "Rumble John" of th 
 Kirk's Alarm. Ordained in Kilmarnock 1774. Called to Stirling 1800. 
 
 J Shakespeare's "Hamlet."^. JS.
 
 270 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. 
 
 When presently it does appear, 
 'Twas but some neibor snorin 
 Asleep that day. 
 
 'Twad be owre lang a tale to tell, too 
 
 How mony stories past ; 
 An' how they crouded to the yill t > 
 
 When they were a' dismist ; 
 How drink gaed round, in cogs ari> caupsf went 
 
 Amang the furms an' benches ; forms 
 
 An' cheese an' bread, frae women's laps, 
 
 Was dealt about in lunches , liberal pieces 
 
 An' dawds that day. large slices 
 
 In COmeS a gaWSie, gash guidwife^ portly, sagacious matron 
 
 An' sits down by the fire, 
 Syne draws her kebbuck an' her knife ; then cheese 
 
 The lasses they are shyer : 
 
 The auld guidmen, about the grace, heads of famines 
 
 Frae side to side they bother ; f from 
 
 Till some ane by his bonnet lays, aside scotch cap 
 
 An' gies them't, like a tether, gives baiter 
 
 Fit 1 lang that day. fail long 
 
 Waesucks / for him that gets nae lass, Aias 
 
 Or lasses that hae naething ! 
 Sma' need has he to say a grace, 
 
 Or melvie his braw claithing ! soil -with crumbs 
 
 O wives, be mindfu' ance yoursel 
 
 How bonie lads ye wanted ; 
 An' dinna for a kebbuck-heel end of a cheese 
 
 IvCt lasses be affronted 
 
 On sic a day ! such 
 
 * Vessels, generally of wood, from, which ale was drunk. They were very much, 
 like the small wooden toy pails for children of the present day. J. H. 
 
 + It is the custom in Scotland to ask a blessing before eating in any way, and 
 to return thanks after. It is a mark of respect to ask a person to say grace ; 
 generally, he modestly declines and suggests another, who in turn names a thir4 
 and so on. Thus they "bother about frae side to side," till one gives them it, 
 in length " like a tether." J. H.
 
 ajT. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 271 
 
 NOW ' ClinkumbellJ Wl' rattlin tOW, bell-ringer rope 
 
 Begins to jow an' croon ; toil sound 
 
 Some swagger hame the best they dow^ are able 
 
 Some wait the afternoon. 
 At slaps the billies halt a blink,* 
 
 Till lasses strip their shoon : shoes 
 
 Wi' faith an' hope, an' love an' drink, 
 
 They're a' in famous tune 
 
 For crack that day. talk 
 
 How mony hearts this day converts 
 
 O' sinners and o' lasses ! 
 Their hearts o' stane, gin night, are gane ^ tte time I 
 
 7 night comes/ 
 
 As saft as ony flesh is : 
 There's some areyZw o' love divine; fail 
 
 There's some are fou o' brandy ; 
 An' mony jobs that day begin, 
 
 May end in ' houghmagandie' 
 
 Some ither day. other 
 
 [Mr. Lockhart, after commending the "Cottar's Saturday Night," 
 in eloquent terms, makes this observation, "That the same man 
 should have produced that poem and the 'Holy Fair' about the 
 same time, will ever continue to move wonder and regret." But 
 the world's "regret" in this matter has been very evanescent; 
 for, although the abuses and absurdities here censured, in con- 
 nection with rural celebrations of the communion, have happily 
 disappeared, it cannot be said that the lessons conveyed in the 
 satire are no longer necessary. 
 
 Mr. Lockhart has farther observed that had Burns " taken up 
 the subject of this rural communion in a solemn mood, he might 
 have produced a piece as gravely beautiful as his ' Holy Fair ' is 
 quaint, graphic, and picturesque. Nay," adds the critic, "I can 
 easily imagine a scene of family worship to have come from his 
 hand as pregnant with the ludicrous as the 'Holy Fair' itself." 
 In these circumstances, we cannot be too thankful that Burns 
 followed his own instincts in the mode of treating both subjects.] 
 
 (In another strain Lockhart elsewhere says : That the "Holy 
 
 * At gaps in the fences which offer convenience for sitting down, the young 
 fellows halt a moment till the lasses strip off their shoes. Scotch girls in Burns' 
 days walked more easily barefooted than with shoes ; besides, there was the ques- 
 tion of economy. J. H.
 
 272 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. 
 
 Fair" was the last and best of that series of satires wherein the 
 same set of persons were lashed. "Here," says that critic, "unlike 
 the others that have been mentioned, satire keeps its own place, 
 and is subservient to the poetry of Burns. This is indeed an 
 extraordinary performance ; no partizan of any sect can whisper 
 that malice has formed its principal inspiration, or that its chief 
 attraction lies in the boldness with which individuals, entitled 
 and accustomed to respect, are held up to ridicule. Immediately 
 on its publication, it was acknowledged (amidst the sternest mut- 
 terings of wrath) that national manners were once more in the 
 hands of a NATIONAL POET." 
 
 Dr. Norman Macleod, the highly-gifted and genial minister of 
 the Barony parish, Glasgow, and editor of Good Words, seems to 
 cast doubt on the " Holy Fair " as a picture of life and manners, 
 even in Burns' day. He says: "It has been the fashion indeed 
 of some people who know nothing about Scotland or her Church 
 to use Burns as an authority for calling such meetings ' Holy 
 Fairs.' What they may have been in the days of the Poet, or 
 how much he may himself have contributed to profane them 1 
 know not. But neither in Ayrshire nor anywhere else, have I 
 ever been doomed to behold so irreverent and wicked a spectacle 
 as he portrays." Dr. Macleod was the son of a Highland manse, 
 and came to Ayrshire when the breath of the coming Disruption 
 was beginning to be felt. The " Holy Fair " is a strong, but scarcely 
 an exaggerated, picture of many a sacrament in the southwest 
 of Scotland at which the writer has been present in his youth. 
 The drinking commonly took place in the houses of poor people 
 near the scene, to whom the little profit was an object. Of course 
 they had no license. When farm servants were hired in upper 
 Nithsdale it was common to stipulate for a holiday either on 
 Thornhill race fair or the Brig o' Scaur sacrament ; and the 
 Brig o' Scaur congregation were Cameronians ! Chambers tells us 
 that in Burns' time this poem was much relished by the moderate 
 clergy, Dr. Blair declaring it to be the most masterly satire of its 
 kind in existence. J. H.) 
 
 The communion was administered at Mauchline in those days 
 but once a year, namely, on the second Sunday of August ; and 
 Chambers, considering that any portion of the year 1785 was too 
 early a date for this composition, sets it down as being nearly 
 the last piece produced by Burns prior to the publication of his 
 poems in July 1786. The "Ordination" was certainly a pro- 
 duction of February of that year, and we feel bound to regard 
 "The Holy Fair" as a riper performance, composed somewhat 
 farther on in the season. 
 
 In the opening of the "Holy Fair," Fergusson's "Leith Races" 
 is evidently closely followed as a model ; an imaginary being
 
 Kt. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 273 
 
 called "Mirth" conducts the Edinburgh poet to the scene of 
 
 enjoyment, exactly as "Fun" in this poem conveys Burns to 
 "Mauchline Holy Fair."] 
 
 SONG, COMPOSED IN SPRING. 
 
 Tune "Johnny's Grey Breeks." 
 (EDINBURGH ED., 1787.) 
 
 AGAIN rejoicing Nature sees 
 
 Her robe assume its vernal hues : 
 
 Her leafy locks wave in the breeze, 
 All freshly steep' d in morning dews. 
 
 Chorus. And maun I still on Menie doat, must 
 And bear the scorn that's in her e>e? ey. 
 
 For it's jet, jet-black, an' it's like a hawk, 
 An' it winna let a body be.* wiiinot person 
 
 In vain to me the cowslips blaw, 
 In vain to me the vi'lets spring ; 
 
 In vain to me in glen or shaw, 
 
 The mavis and the lintwhite sing, thrush iinne* 
 And maun I still, &c. 
 
 The merry ploughboy cheers his team, 
 
 Wi' joy the tentie seedsman stalks ; careful 
 
 But life to me's a weary dream, 
 A dream of ane that never wauks. awaken* 
 And maun I still, &c. 
 
 The wanton coot the water skims, 
 Amang the reeds the ducklings cry, 
 
 The stately swan majestic swims, 
 And ev'ry thing is blest but I. 
 
 And maun I still, &c. 
 
 This chorus Is part of a song- composed by a gentleman in Edinburgh, a par 
 ticular friend of the author's. Menie is the common abbreviation of Mariamne 
 R. B. More correctly, it is the abbreviate of Marion. 
 
 L R
 
 274 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. 
 
 The sheep-herd sleeks his faulding slap, fol ^ huts | 
 And o'er the moorlands whistles skill; S hriu 
 
 WT wild, unequal, wand' ring step, 
 I meet him on the dewy hill. 
 
 And maun I still, &c. 
 
 And when the lark, 'tween light and dark, 
 Ely the waukens by the daisy's side, awakens 
 
 And mounts and sings on flittering wings, 
 A woe-worn ghaist I hameward glide. ghost 
 And maun I still, &c. 
 
 Come winter, with thine angry howl, 
 And raging, bend the naked tree ; 
 
 Thy gloom will soothe my cheerless soul, 
 When nature all is sad like me ! 
 
 And maun I still, &c. 
 
 [The author must have had a very special reason for the 
 retention, through all his own editions, of this chorus, apparently 
 so inappropriate to the sentiment of the song. His main purpose 
 was to shew that slighted love was the cause of his mourning; 
 and he told the truth in his foot-note about the chorus being 
 "part of a song composed by a gentleman in Edinburgh, a par- 
 ticular friend of the author's." This "gentleman in Edinburgh" 
 was none other than the bard himself, who of course was his 
 own " particular friend ; " and the substitution of the name " Menie " 
 for Jeanie was a necessary part of the little ruse he chose here 
 to adopt. In like manner, he poured forth about the same time his 
 "Lament occasioned by the unfortunate issue of a frien&s amour." 
 
 The pride of Burns seems to have been galled to the extreme 
 by the position assumed by Jean and her parents, at the time 
 when the poet's acknowledgment of a private marriage with Jean 
 was formally torn up in scorn. 
 
 The chorus of this song, however jarring it may seem to the 
 mere reader of the text, has, no such effect when sung in slowish 
 time along with the body of the song, to the tune actually chaunted 
 by the poet when in the act of composing it. Gray's "Elegy" 
 was present in his thoughts, while engaged with this composition, 
 as well as that which immediately follows ; and indeed the poet 
 acknowledges this in his note to Kennedy which enclosed the 
 "Mountain Daisy." The similarity between verse sixth of this 
 song and verse second of the "Daisy," needs no pointing out]
 
 . 28.] 
 
 POEMS AND SONGS. 
 
 275 
 
 TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY. 
 
 ON TURNING ONE DOWN WITH THE PLOUGH, I$* APRII, 1786. 
 (KlLMARNOCK ED., 1786.) 
 
 WEE, modest, crimson- tipped flow'r, 
 
 Thou's met me in an evil hour ; 
 
 For I maun crush amang the stoure must dust 
 
 Thy slender stem : 
 To spare thee now is past my pow'r, 
 
 Thou bonie gem. 
 
 Alas ! it's no thy neibor sweet, 
 
 The bonie lark, companion meet, 
 
 Bending thee ''mang the dewy weet y among wet 
 
 Wi' spreckfd breast ! speckled 
 
 When upward-springing, blythe, to greet glad 
 
 The purpling east. 
 
 cold 
 
 Cauld blew the bitter-biting north 
 Upon thy early, humble birth ; 
 Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth 
 
 Amid the storm, 
 Scarce rear'd above the parent-earth 
 
 Thy tender form. 
 
 The flaunting flow'rs our gardens yield, 
 High shelf ring woods and wo 1 s maun shield ; 
 But thou, beneath the random bield shelter 
 
 6>' clod or stane, of 
 
 Adorns the kistie stibble field, parched stubbie 
 
 Unseen, alane. 
 
 There, in thy scanty mantle clad, 
 Thy snawie bosom sun-ward spread, 
 
 nowy
 
 276 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786, 
 
 Thou lifts thy unassuming head 
 
 In humble guise ; 
 But now the share uptears thy bed, 
 
 And low thou liesl 
 
 Such is the fate of artless maid, 
 Sweet flow' ret of the rural shade ! 
 By love's simplicity betray 'd, 
 
 And guileless trust ; 
 Till she, like thee, all soil'd, is laid 
 
 Low *' the dust m 
 
 Such is the fate of simple bard, 
 
 On life's rough ocean luckless starr'd ! 
 
 Unskilful he to note the card 
 
 Of prudent lore, 
 Till billows rage, and gales blow hard, 
 
 And whelm him o'er! 
 
 Such fate to suffering worth is giv'n, 
 Who long with wants and woes has striv'n, 
 By human pride or cunning driv'n 
 
 To mis'ry's brink ; 
 Till wrench' d of ev'ry stay but Heav'n, 
 
 He, ruin'd, sink ! 
 
 Ev'n thou who mourn' st the Daisy's fate, 
 That fate is thine no distant date ; 
 Stern Ruin's plough-share drives elate, 
 
 Full on thy bloom, 
 Till crush' d beneath the furrow's weight, 
 
 Shall be thy doom ! * 
 
 * An intelligent observer of his own courses of action and the causes leading up 
 to them will often trace these to the pervading tone or color of his mind at the 
 time. Burns when plowing the grass-rigs of Mossgiel on this April morning, 
 was carrying in iris ijosom the reflection that Jean Armour had renounced him, 
 and that her father was taking steps to unchain on him the sleuthhounds of the 
 law. His whole mental horizon was tinged with gloom, and his exquisitely sym- 
 pathetic nature led him to see a type of his own fate in the destruction of "the 
 meanest flower that blows." He had plowed down a thousand daisies before this, 
 but not one of them all ever roused reflection like this, or tuned his lyre to sing 
 so sweet and sadly sympathetic song.
 
 JST. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 277 
 
 [On 2oth April 1786, our poet enclosed this "little gem" to his 
 friend John Kennedy. In that MS. it is called "The Gowan," a 
 title subsequently changed for the English appellation, as above. 
 
 Regarding this poem, Burns says, "I am a good deal pleased 
 with some of the sentiments, as they are just the native querulous 
 feelings of a heart which (as the elegantly melting Gray says) 
 ' melancholy has marked for her own. ' " It is curious to note that 
 the closing couplet of each of the four concluding verses begins 
 with the same word "Till." 
 
 Grahame, the author of "The Sabbath, and other poems," has 
 the following fine apostrophe to the lark, in connection with the 
 text of this and the preceding poem : 
 
 "Thou, simple bird 
 
 Of all the vocal quire, dwell'st in a home 
 The humblest, yet thy morning song ascends 
 Nearest to heaven ; sweet emblem of Aw song 
 Who sung thee wakening by the daisy's side !" 
 
 We have referred to Gray the poet as having furnished some 
 impulse to Burns in these pieces ; and we are indebted to Dr. Car- 
 ruthers for pointing out that the image in the closing verse of the 
 text is derived from Dr. Young : 
 
 "Stars rush, and final Ruin fiercely drives 
 His plough-share o'er creation." Night ix.] 
 
 (This exquisite piece, like those to "The Mouse" and "The 
 Wounded Hare," show us Burns at his best morally and poetically. 
 They disclose his profound sympathy with nature in her simplest 
 forms, his abounding tenderness for the humblest of God's creatures, 
 and his marvellous power to extract lessons of purest morality and 
 wisdom from the simplest texts ; while their perfect natural ease 
 and charm of expression confer on them a beauty almost peculiarly 
 their own. What a commentary does this little piece furnish on 
 Shakespere's memorable dictum : " One touch of Nature make? 
 the whole world kin ! " Burns' own manifold afflictions call forth 
 his pity for "the meanest flower that grows " in its hour of mis- 
 fortune, even for an upturned Daisy. Wordsworth's sympathies 
 were profoundly moved by this and similar effusions, more espe- 
 cially as they seemed to foreshadow the bard's own destiny. Allan 
 Cunningham tells us that he changed the title of this piece and 
 his manner of spelling his name (from Burness to Burns) about the 
 same time. J. H.) 
 
 Had Jean Armour not deserted him, would we ever have had this Inimitably 
 tender lyric ? To the same cause we have to trace the mournful but charming 
 episode with Highland Mary, but for which the world would have wanted not 
 only the fine songs addressed to her, but the sublime and pathetic lines dedi- 
 cated to her memory. J. H.
 
 278 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786 
 
 TO RUIN. 
 
 ED., 1786.) 
 
 ALL hail, inexorable lord ! 
 
 At whose destruction-breathing word, 
 
 The mightiest empires fall ! 
 Thy cruel, woe-delighted train, 
 The ministers of grief and pain, 
 
 A sullen welcome, all ! 
 With stern-resolv'd, despairing eye, 
 
 I see each aimed dart ; 
 For one has cut my dearest tie, 
 And quivers in my heart. 
 Then low' ring, and pouring, 
 
 The storm no more I dread ; 
 Tho' thick' ning, and black' ning, 
 Round my devoted head. 
 
 And thou grim Pow'r by life abhorr'd, 
 While life a pleasure can afford, 
 
 Oh ! hear a wretch's pray'r ! 
 No more I shrink appall' d, afraid ; 
 I court, I beg thy friendly aid, 
 To close this scene of care ! 
 When shall my soul, in silent peace, 
 
 Resign life's joyless day 
 My weary heart its throbbings cease, 
 Cold mould' ring in the clay? 
 No fear more, no tear more, 
 To stain my lifeless face, 
 Enclasped, and grasped, 
 Within thy cold embrace I 
 
 [Here the tone of the closing stanza of the " Daisy " is taken 
 up, and the theme expanded into a little ode. Allan Cunningham 
 was disposed to see in this piece some reference to apprehended
 
 ^Jx. 28.] K)EMS AND SONGS. 279 
 
 ruin through the failure of the poet's farming efforts at Mossgiel ; 
 but it was the scornful eye of Jean "jet, jet-black, and like a 
 hawk," that still haunted him; and he singles out, from the thick- 
 flying darts of destruction around him, the one that 
 
 .... "has cut my dearest tie, 
 And quivers in my heart." 
 
 In the autobiography, he tells us, in reference to tne occasion of 
 the "Lament," that it nearly cost him the loss of his reason. 
 Gilbert adds that "The 'Lament' was composed after the first 
 distraction of his feelings had a little subsided."] 
 
 THE LAMENT. 
 
 OCCASIONED BY THE UNFORTUNATE ISSUE OF A FRIEND'S 
 
 AMOUR. 
 
 (KlWHARNOCK ED., 1786.) 
 
 " Alas ! how oft does goodness wound itself, 
 And sweet affection prove the spring of woe I" 
 
 HOMB. 
 
 THOU pale orb that silent shines 
 While care-untroubled mortals sleep I 
 
 Thou seest a wretch who inly pines, 
 And wanders here to wail and weep ! 
 
 With woe I nightly vigils keep, 
 
 Beneath thy wan, unwarming beam ; 
 
 And mourn, in lamentation deep, 
 How life and love are all a dream ! 
 
 1 joyless view thy rays adorn 
 The faintly-marked, distant hill ; 
 
 I joyless view thy trembling horn, 
 
 Reflected in the gurgling rill : 
 My fondly-fluttering heart, be still ! 
 
 Thou busy pow'r, remembrance, cease ! 
 All ! must the agonizing thrill 
 
 For ever bar returning peace !
 
 280 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. 
 
 No idly-feign'd, poetic pains, 
 
 My sad, love-lorn lamentings claim : 
 No shepherd's pipe Arcadian strains ; 
 
 No fabled tortures, quaint and tame. 
 The plighted faith, the mutual flame, 
 
 The oft-attested pow'rs above, 
 The promis'd father's tender name ; 
 
 These were the pledges of my love ! 
 
 Encircled in her clasping arms, 
 
 How have the raptur'd moments flown ! 
 How have I wish'd for fortune's charms, 
 
 For her dear sake, and her's alone ! 
 And, must I think it ! is she gone, 
 
 My secret heart's exulting boast? 
 And does she heedless hear my groan? 
 
 And is she ever, ever lost? 
 
 Oh ! can she bear so base a heart, 
 
 So lost to honor, lost to truth, 
 As from the fondest lover part, 
 
 The plighted husband of her youth ! 
 Alas ! life's path may be unsmooth ! 
 
 Her way may lie thro' rough distress ! 
 Then, who her pangs and pains will soothe, 
 
 Her sorrows share, and make them less? 
 
 Ye winged hours that o'er us pass'd, 
 
 Enraptur'd more, the more enjoy 'd, 
 Your dear remembrance in my breast 
 
 My fondly-treasur'd thoughts employ'd: 
 That breast, how dreary now, and void, 
 
 For her too scanty once of room ! 
 Ev'n ev'ry ray of hope destroy 'd, 
 
 And not a wish to gild the gloom !
 
 aJT. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 281 
 
 The morn, that warns th' approaching day, 
 
 Awakes me up to toil and woe ; 
 I see the hours in long array, 
 
 That I must suffer, lingering slow : 
 Full many a pang, and many a throe, 
 
 Keen recollection's direful train, 
 Must wring my soul, ere Phoebus, low, 
 
 Shall kiss the distant western main. 
 
 And when my nightly couch I try, 
 
 Sore harass' d out with care and grief, 
 My toil-beat nerves, and tear-worn eye, 
 
 Keep watchings with the nightly thief: 
 Or if I slumber, fancy, chief, 
 
 Reigns, haggard- wild, in sore affright : 
 Ev'n day, all-bitter, brings relief 
 
 From such a horror-breathing night 
 
 O thou bright queen, who, o'er th' expanse 
 
 Now highest reign' st, with boundless sway ! 
 Oft has thy silent-marking glance 
 
 Observ'd us, fondly-wand'ring, stray ! 
 The time, unheeded, sped away, 
 
 While love's luxurious pulse beat high, 
 Beneath thy silver-gleaming ray, 
 
 To mark the mutual-kindling eye. 
 
 Oh ! scenes in strong remembrance set! 
 
 Scenes, never, never to return ! 
 Scenes, if in stupor I forget, 
 
 Again I feel, again I burn ! 
 From ev'ry joy and pleasure torn, 
 
 Life's weary vale I'll wander thro'; 
 And hopeless, comfortless, I'll mourn 
 
 A faithless woman's broken vow ! 
 
 [This highly-finished poem contains passages nearly equal to any 
 in the Address to "Mary in heaven," The reader will observe, that
 
 282 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. 
 
 every stanza contains four lines that rhyme together, a feat in 
 versification which "A Dream" again exhibits in a twofold degree 
 a double somersault of rhyme, in short. Dr. Currie has referred 
 to the eighth stanza, describing a sleepless night from anguish of 
 mind, as being of peculiarly striking excellence, nor should the 
 finely minute touch in the third line of the second stanza " I joy- 
 less view thy trembling horn," be overlooked. The "trembling" 
 could be visible only to an eye filled by a grief-begotten tear. 
 
 It is scarcely necessary to say that the "Unfortunate Friend" is 
 Burns himself. Only dear-bought experience could have enabled 
 him to depict thus truthfully the horrors of anger, shame, remorse, 
 and disappointed love. The mere exercise of producing this and 
 kindred pieces helped to soothe the poet's embittered feelings ; and 
 the wholesome excitement in connection with the printing of his 
 poems completed the cure. J. H.] 
 
 DESPONDENCY AN ODE. 
 
 (KlLMARNOCK ED., 1786.) 
 
 OPPRESS' D with grief, oppress' d with care, 
 A burden more than I can bear, 
 
 I set me down and sigh ; 
 O life ! thou art a galling load, 
 Along a rough, a weary road, 
 
 To wretches such as I ! 
 Dim-backward as I cast my view, 
 What sick'ning scenes appear ! 
 What sorrows yet may pierce me through, 
 Too justly I may fear ! 
 Still caring, despairing, 
 
 Must be my bitter doom ; 
 My woes here shall close ne'er 
 But with the closing tomb 1 
 
 Happy ! ye sons of busy life, 
 Who, equal to the bustling strife, 
 No other view regard !
 
 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 283 
 
 Ev'n when the wished end's denied, 
 Yet while the busy means are plied, 
 
 They bring their own reward : 
 Whilst I, a hope-abandon 'd wight, 
 
 Unfitted with an aim, 
 Meet ev'ry sad returning night, 
 And joyless mourn the same ! 
 You, bustling and justling, 
 
 Forget each grief and pain ; 
 I, listless, yet restless, 
 Find ev'ry prospect vain. 
 
 How blest the solitary's lot, 
 Who, all-forgetting, all-forgot, 
 
 Within his humble cell, 
 The cavern, wild with tangling roots- 
 Sits o'er his newly-gather'd fruits, 
 
 Beside his crystal well ! 
 Or haply, to his ev'ning thought, 
 
 By unfrequented stream, 
 The ways of men are distant brought, 
 A faint, collected dream ; 
 While praising, and raising 
 
 His thoughts to heav'n on high, 
 As wand' ring, meand'ring, 
 He views the solemn sky. 
 
 Than I, no lonely hermit plac'd 
 Where never human footstep trac'd, 
 
 Less fit to play the part ; 
 The lucky moment to improve, 
 And just to stop, and just to move, 
 
 With self-respecting art : 
 But ah ! those pleasures, loves, and joys, 
 
 Which I too keenly taste, 
 The solitary can despise 
 
 Can want, and yet be blest !
 
 284 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786 
 
 He needs not, he heeds not, 
 
 Or human love or hate ; 
 Whilst I here must cry here 
 
 At perfidy ingrate ! 
 
 O enviable early days, 
 
 When dancing thoughtless pleasure's maze, 
 
 To care, to guilt unknown ! 
 How ill exchang'd for riper times, 
 To feel the follies, or the crimes, 
 
 Of others, or my own ! 
 Ye tiny elves that guiltless sport, 
 
 Like linnets in the bush, 
 Ye little know the ills ye court, 
 When manhood is your wish ! 
 The losses, the crosses, 
 
 That active man engage ; 
 The fears all, the tears all, 
 Of dim declining Age ! 
 
 | In this poem, the same theme as that pursued through the 
 four preceding pieces is exhausted in a very satisfactory manner. 
 Apparently tired himself of stringing mournful rhymes about Jean's 
 "perfidy ingrate," he sets himself to give his youthful compeers 
 the benefit of his dear-bought experience in such words as 
 these : 
 
 " Even when the wished-for end's denied, 
 Yet, while the busy means is plied, 
 These bring their own reward." 
 
 With enchanting words of the tenderest wisdom, he only 
 twenty-seven years old speaks of his own "enviable early days," 
 and then, as if under the sanction of mature age, addresses his 
 young readers thus : 
 
 " Ye tiny elves that guiltless sport, 
 
 I,ike linnets in the bush ; 
 Ye little know what ills ye court, 
 When manhood is your wish 1" &c. 
 
 Meanwhile, Jean had been sent off to Paisley, to avoid seeing her 
 poet-lover, whose heart, like that of Nature herself, abhorred a
 
 XV. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 285 
 
 vacuum. At this juncture he all unobserved consoled himself by 
 cultivating a "reciprocal attachment" with a generous-hearted 
 maiden resident in his neighborhood, whose name he afterwards 
 made immortal by the strength and beauty of his musings over 
 the memory of those stolen interviews.] 
 
 TO GAVIN HAMILTON, ESQ., MAUCHLINE, 
 
 RECOMMENDING A BOY. 
 
 (CROMEK, 1808.) 
 
 Mossgaville, May j, 1786. 
 
 I HOLD it, sir, my bounden duty 
 
 To warn you how that "Master Tootle," 
 
 Alias, "Laird M'Gaun," 
 
 Was here to hire yon lad away yonder 
 
 'Bout whom ye spak the tither day, spoke other 
 
 An' Wad kae don't Off kan 1 ; would have right away 
 
 But lest he learn the callan tricks boy 
 
 An' faith I muckle doubt him much 
 
 Like scrapin out auld crummies nicks, * old cows 
 An' tellin lies about them ; 
 As lieve then, I'd have then, 
 
 Your clerkship he should sair, 
 If sae be ye may be 
 Not fitted otherwhere. 
 
 Altho' I say't, he's gleg enough, smart 
 
 An' bout a house that's rude an' rough, 
 The boy might learn to swear ; 
 
 Tootie was a nick-name of "Laird McGaun," who lived in Mauchline and 
 dealt in cows. The ring's on a cow's horn, like the marks of a horse's teeth, 
 show her age. It is the custom of fraudulent dealers, and even farmers, to scrape 
 out certain of the rings or " nicks " to make her look younger than she is. Such 
 persons are in Scotland, called " nick-scrapers." They correspond nearly to 
 ' sneck-drawers " see note on "Sneck-drawing," p. 191. We are not to suppose 
 that Mr. McGaun, though styled a "laird," had any real claim to the title. He
 
 286 POEMS AND SONGS. 
 
 But then wi' YOU he'll be sae taught, 
 An' get sic fair example str aught, such straight 
 I hae na ony fear.* have not any 
 
 Ye' 11 catechise him, every quirk, 
 
 An' shore him weel wi' "hell;" frighten 
 
 An' gar him follow to the kirk ake 
 
 Ay when ye gang yoursel.t always go 
 
 If ye then, maun be then must 
 
 Frae hame this comin Friday, from 
 
 Then please sir, to lea? e, sir, leave 
 
 The orders wi' your lady. 
 
 My word of honor I hae gi^en, given 
 
 In Paisley John's, % that night at e'en, 
 
 To meet the "warWs worm;" tc ~%S5g i *'} 
 To try to get the twa to gree, come to terms 
 
 An' name the airles an' the fee, earnest-money wages 
 
 In legal mode an' form : 
 I ken he weel a sneck can draw, 
 When simple bodies let him ; 
 An' if a Devil be at a', 
 
 In faith he's sure to get him. 
 To phrase you an' praise you, 
 Ye ken your I,aureat scorns : 
 The pray'r still, you share still, 
 Of grateful MINSTREL BURNS. 
 
 [This off-hand production explains itself. The poet was about 
 to part with one of the boys on his farm, whose services were 
 
 might own a " pendicle" of land of an acre or two in extent, but the title is quite 
 often given, half derisively, to old men of some little prominence in a village or 
 country community. J. H. 
 
 * Note the sly caustic humor in the emphasized you in the fourth line of the 
 second Stanza, and compare it with the first two lines of stanza twelfth of " Holy 
 Willie's Prayer." J. H. 
 
 t Another hit at Gavin Hamilton. He was threatened with church censures for 
 his neglect of the ordinances as dispensed by " Daddy Auld." See " Holy Willie's 
 Prayer," stanza 13. 
 
 t John Dow's inn. John was a Paisley man. J. H. 
 
 See note " sneck-drawing," p. 191.
 
 aJT. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 287 
 
 coveted by "Master Tootie," a dishonest dealer in cows. The 
 boy had also attracted the attention of Gavin Hamilton, and Burns, 
 who much preferred that the boy should serve Hamilton, wrote 
 this note to him by way of warning. 
 
 In the second verse, the poet has imitated the "Madam Blaize" 
 of Goldsmith 
 
 " Her love was sought, I do aver, by twenty beaux and more : 
 The king himself has followed her when she has walked before."] 
 
 VERSIFIED REPLY TO AN INVITATION. 
 (HOGG AND MOTHERWEU,, 1834.) 
 
 SIR, 
 
 Yours this moment I unseal, 
 
 And faith I'm gay and hearty ! 
 To tell the truth and shame the deil, 
 
 I am as fou as Bartie : * fan 
 
 But Foorsday, sir, my promise leal, Thursday loyai 
 
 Expect me o' your partie, 
 If on a beastie I can speel, horse climb 
 
 Or hurl in a cartie. ride cart 
 
 Yours, 
 
 ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 MACHMN, Monday night, 10 o'clock. 
 
 [From the fact of the poet's name being spelled here with one 
 syllable, we must conclude that it was written after i4th April 
 1786, when he first adopted the contracted form. The original 
 MS. which has been long preserved in the Paisley Library, affords 
 no clue to the name of the person thus addressed.] 
 
 * Possibly Bartie was some peasant's misnomer for the Baltic, which may have 
 tickled Burns and his friend. "As fu' as the Baltic" is a common Scotch phrase 
 and "as fu' as Bartie" may be only an ignorant man's travestie of it J. H.
 
 288 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786 
 
 SONG WILL YE GO TO THE INDIES, 
 MY MARY? 
 
 Tune." Ewe-Bughts, Marion." 
 (CuRRiE, 1800.) 
 
 WILL ye go to the Indies, my Mary, 
 
 And leave auld Scotia's shore? old 
 
 Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary, 
 Across th' Atlantic's roar? 
 
 sweet grows the lime and the orange, 
 And the apple on the pine ; 
 
 But a' the charms o' the Indies 
 Can never equal thine. 
 
 1 hae sworn by the Heavens to my Mary, have 
 I hae sworn by the Heavens to be true ; 
 
 And sae may the Heavens forget me, so 
 
 When I forget my vow ! 
 
 O plight me your faith, my Mary, 
 And plight me your lily-white hand ; 
 
 O plight me your faith, my Mary, 
 Before I leave Scotia's strand. 
 
 We hae plighted our troth, my Mary, 
 
 In mutual affection to join ; 
 And curst be the cause that shall part us ! 
 
 The hour and the moment o' time ! 
 
 [This song, addressed to the living Mary Campbell, was composed 
 at some date apparently from the middle of March to I4th May 
 1 786. Whether she was then serving as a nursery-maid with Gavin 
 Hamilton, in Mauchline, or in service elsewhere, it is impossible 
 to determine. The popular belief is that Mary was byres-woman
 
 JJT. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 289 
 
 or dairy-maid at Coilsfield House, when Burns set his affections 
 on her ; but that idea has no foundation that we are aware of, 
 beyond a traditional conjecture, first printed in Chambers's "Scottish 
 Songs," 1829. The tradition naturally took its rise from the fact 
 so tenderly recorded by the poet, that his final tryst with her was 
 in that neighborhood. Besides the song in our text, one or two 
 others, identified with Mary Campbell as their subject, have been 
 preserved. One of these is a Prayer for Mary's protection during 
 the author's wanderings abroad ; and another indicates that the 
 frowns of fortune had determined him to "cross the raging sea," 
 in order 
 
 "That Indian wealth may lustre throw 
 Around my Highland lassie, O." 
 
 The poet, in his autobiography, after referring to his distraction 
 caused by Jean's supposed "perfidy," says "I gave up my part 
 of the farm to my brother, and made what little preparation was 
 in my power for Jamaica ; but before leaving my native country 
 for ever, I resolved to publish my poems." On 2oth March, he 
 arranged to meet Robert Muir at Kilmarnock, to forward that 
 object; and on $d April, he was just "sending his proposals to 
 the press." One would conclude that the work of arranging and 
 preparing his poems for the printer not to mention his indus- 
 trious composing of fresh poems to fill the volume was enough 
 to occupy his head and hands, without the introduction of the 
 Highland Mary episode at such a time. Nevertheless, he did 
 manage, amid all these engagements, to cultivate the "pretty long 
 tract of reciprocal attachment " which preceded the final parting 
 with Mary on Sunday, i4th May. Such were the strange circum- 
 stances under which this song was composed. The inscriptions on 
 the "Highland Mary bible," particularly noticed in connection 
 with the song which follows, are highly suggestive of mystery and 
 secrecy in this rash courtship and inopportune betrothal. 
 
 In October 1792, the poet offered this lyric to George Thomson as 
 a substitute or companion-song for "The Ewe-Bughts, Marion"; 
 but that gentleman did not adopt it. It is not to be understood 
 from the opening line of the song, that Burns asked Mary to 
 accompany him to the West Indies ; for his words to Thomson 
 are, "I took the following farewell of a dear girl."]
 
 290 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. 
 
 MY HIGHLAND LASSIE,* O. 
 (JOHNSON'S MUSEUM, 1788.) 
 
 NAE gentle dames, tho' ne'er sae fair, high-born e'er 
 
 Shall ever be my muse's care : 
 
 Their titles a' are empty show ; 
 
 Gie me my Highland lassie, O. *" 
 
 Chorus. Within the glen sae bushy, O, 
 Aboon the plain sae rashy, O, above mshy 
 
 I set me down wi' right guid will, good 
 
 To sing my Highland lassie, O. 
 
 were yon hills and vallies mine, 
 Yon palace and yon gardens fine ! f 
 The world then the love should know 
 
 1 bear my Highland lassie, O. 
 
 But fickle fortune frowns on me, 
 
 And I maun cross the raging sea ; mut 
 
 But while my crimson currents flow, 
 
 I'll love my Highland lassie, O. 
 
 Altho' thro' foreign climes I range, 
 I know her heart will never change, 
 For her bosom burns with honor's glow, 
 My faithful Highland lassie, O. 
 
 For her I'll dare the billows' roar, 
 For her I'll trace a distant shore, 
 That Indian wealth may lustre throw 
 Around my Highland lassie, O. 
 
 *We note again the fine musical effect of the Scotch termination ft. It is not 
 merely a diminutive, but it carries with it a feeling of endearment. J. H. 
 t Referring to Coilsfield Mansion House. J. H.
 
 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 291 
 
 She has my heart, she has my hand, 
 By secret troth and honor's band ! 
 'Till the mortal stroke shall lay me low, 
 I'm thine, my Highland lassie, O. 
 
 Farewell the glen sae bushy, O ! 
 Farewell the plain sae rashy, O ! 
 To other lands I now must go, 
 To sing my Highland lassie, O. 
 
 [The cuts at the end of this note, represent very faithfully the 
 inscriptions and symbolic markings on the bible presented by Burns 
 to Mary at their parting. The printer's date on the title-page is 
 1782. When Mary died, in October 1786, the volumes were taken 
 care of by her mother, who survived till August 1828. Several 
 years before that event, she had presented the bible to Mary's 
 surviving sister, Anne, the wife of James Anderson, a stone-mason. 
 That generation had passed away, when the precious relic, together 
 with a lock of Highland Mary^s hair, turned up at Montreal, in 
 Canada, about the year 1840, whither they had been carried by 
 William Anderson, a son of Mary's sister. Several Scottish resi- 
 dents of that city subscribed and purchased the relics from Ander- 
 son, with the object of having them deposited in the poet's 
 monument at Ayr. Accordingly, on ist January 1841, they were 
 formally handed for this purpose to Provost Limont of Ayr. 
 
 So early as 1828, Mr. Lockhart remarked that Cromek's inter- 
 esting details of the parting ceremonials which are supposed to 
 have been transacted between the poet and Mary at their final 
 meeting, ' ' have recently been confirmed very strongly by the 
 accidental discovery of a bible presented by Burns to Mary 
 Campbell, in the possession of her surviving sister." He quotes 
 the inscription from Leviticus and St. Matthew very accurately, 
 and adds, " that on the blank leaf opposite one of these texts is 
 written 'Robert Burns, Mossgiel.' " 
 
 An examination of those sacred relics suggests the probability 
 that poor Mary, on seeing the certain approach of death, had 
 wilfully erased her own name and that of her poet lover, by wetting 
 the writing and drawing her fingers across it, obliterating the 
 surnames to the state in which they now appear. 
 
 On the fly-leaf of Volume I. of the bible, the name, " Mary 
 Campbell," followed by the poet's mason-mark, had been inscribed:
 
 292 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. 
 
 the latter is still nearly entire; but the name has been almost 
 completely erased, thus : 
 
 V 
 
 The corresponding blank-leaf in Volume II. had contained the 
 poet's name and address, with the mason-mark subjoined ; but these 
 also have been subjected to an erasing process ; and now we can 
 only trace as follows : 
 
 (That the love of Burns for Highland Mary was of a deep and 
 lasting character is abundantly proven by the eloquent heart throbs 
 to which he gave utterance in "Mary In Heaven." 
 
 If Mary sunk into the grave without revealing the fact of her 
 betrothal to Burns, it seems equally certain that Burns never whis- 
 pered her name to a living soul till three years after her decease. 
 It was only when the surpassing beauty and pathos of his sublime 
 dirge "To Mary in Heaven" awakened a curiosity which he 
 could not avoid in some degree to satisfy, that he uttered a few 
 vague particulars of her story. It was a mysterious episode in the 
 life of Burns, of which the world can never learn the full facts.
 
 r. 28.] 
 
 POEMS AND SONGS. 
 
 293 
 
 On the whole we incline to give assent to the utterance of his 
 "spiritual biographer," Dr. Waddell : "In connection with this 
 there was neither guilt, nor the shadow of guilt on his con- 
 science." 
 
 n#fy 
 
 %wttrf*$ty 
 
 r x M ^ / 1 / 
 
 /M&*qt&(^ 
 
 <4*>*6 y? '%&*;% 
 
 ^. 
 
 Any Mason will recognise the solemn importance which Burns 
 attached to this record of his vows. J. H.) 
 
 EPISTLE TO A YOUNG FRIEND. 
 
 (KJI,MARNOCK ED., 1786.) 
 
 May , 1786. 
 
 I LANG hae thought, my youthfu' friend, 
 
 A something to have sent you, 
 Tho' it should serve nae ither end no other 
 
 Than just a kind memento :
 
 294 
 
 POEMS AND SONGS. 
 
 [1786. 
 
 But how the subject-theme may gang, 
 Let time and chance determine ; 
 
 Perhaps it may turn out a sang ; 
 Perhaps, turn out a sermon. 
 
 Ye' 11 try the world soon, my lad ; 
 
 And, Andrew dear, believe me, 
 Ye' 11 find mankind an unco squad, 
 
 And muckle they may grieve ye : 
 For care and trouble set your thought, 
 
 Ev'n when your end's attained ; 
 And a* your views may come to nought, 
 
 Where ev'ry nerve is strained. 
 
 I'll no say, men are villains a' ; 
 
 The real, harden' d wicked, 
 Wha hae nae check but human law, 
 
 Are to a few restricket ; 
 But, och ! mankind are unco weak, 
 
 An' little to be trusted ; 
 If SELF the wavering balance shake, 
 
 It's rarely right adjusted ! 
 
 strange 
 much 
 
 all 
 
 Yet they whayfr' in fortune's strife, 
 
 Their fate we shouldna censure ; 
 For still, th' important end of life 
 
 They equally may answer : 
 A man may hae an honest heart, 
 
 Tho' poortith hourly stare him ; 
 A man may tak a neibor's part,* 
 
 Yet hae nae cash to spare him. 
 
 Ay free, aff han\ your story tell, 
 When wi' a bosom crony ; 
 
 But still keep something to yoursel 
 Ye scarcely tell to ony : 
 
 have no 
 
 restricted 
 
 uncommonly 
 
 fall 
 should not 
 
 have 
 poverty 
 
 take 
 have no 
 
 off hand 
 comrade 
 
 any 
 
 Be inclined to befriend and help a neighbor. J. H.
 
 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 295 
 
 Conceal yoursel as weel's ye can 
 
 Frae critical dissection ; 
 But keek thro' ev'ry other man, peer keenly 
 
 Wi' sharpen' d, sly inspection. 
 
 The sacred lowe o 1 weel-plac'd love, flame of 
 
 Luxuriantly indulge it ; 
 But never tempt th' illicit rove, 
 
 Tho' naething should divulge it: 
 I waive the quantum o' the sin, 
 
 The hazard of concealing ; 
 But, och ! it hardens a' within, 
 
 And petrifies the feeling ! 
 
 To catch dame Fortune's golden smile, 
 
 Assiduous wait upon her ; 
 And gather gear by ev'ry wile wealth 
 
 That's justify' d by honor ; 
 Not for to hide it in a hedge, 
 
 Nor for a train attendant ; 
 But for the glorious privilege 
 
 Of being independent 
 
 The fear o 1 hell's a hangman's whip, 
 
 To hand the wretch in order ; hold (t ff ^ 
 
 But where ye feel your honor grip, 
 
 Let that ay be your border : 
 Its slightest touches, instant pause 
 
 Debar a' side-pretences ; 
 And resolutely keep its laws, 
 
 Uncaring consequences. 
 
 The great Creator to revere, 
 
 Must sure become the creature ; 
 But still the preaching cant forbear, 
 
 And ev'n the rigid feature :
 
 296 POEMS AND SONGS. [178^ 
 
 Yet ne'er with wits profane to range, 
 
 Be complaisance extended ; 
 An atheist-laugh's a poor exchange 
 
 For Deity offended ! 
 
 When ranting round in pleasure's ring, 
 
 Religion may be blinded ; 
 Or if she gie a random sting, givt 
 
 It may be little minded ; 
 But when on life we're tempest-driv'n 
 
 A conscience but a canker without 
 
 A correspondence fix'd wi' Heav'n, 
 
 Is sure a noble anchor ! 
 
 Adieu, dear, amiable youth ! 
 
 Your heart can ne'er be wanting! 
 May prudence, fortitude, and truth, 
 
 Erect your brow undaunting ! 
 In ploughman phrase, "God send you speed,'* 
 
 Still daily to grow wiser ; 
 And may ye better reck the rede, attend to the counsel 
 
 Than ever did th' adviser ! 
 
 [The young friend here so sagaciously addressed was Andrew 
 Aikeu, son of the poet's early patron Robert Aiken, to whom the 
 " Cottar's Saturday Night " is inscribed. He afterwards engaged in 
 mercantile pursuits in Liverpool, where he prospered, and was ulti- 
 mately appointed English consul at Riga, at which port he died in 
 1831. Andrew's son, Peter F. Aiken, passed as an advocate in 
 Edinburgh : but instead of practising the law, he became a banker 
 in Bristol, where he still survives in honorable retirement. 
 
 In a holograph copy of this epistle, dated " Mossgiel, May isth 
 1786," the following additional stanza is introduced, immediately 
 after the sixth verse : 
 
 " If ye hae made a step aside 
 
 Some hap mistake o'erta'en you, chance overtaken 
 Yet still keep up a decent pride. 
 And ne'er o'er far demean you ;* 
 
 * Do not lower yourself in the eyes of the world by unnecessary confessions 
 and ostentatious, professions of repentance. J. H.
 
 ajT. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 297 
 
 Time comes wi' kind oblivious shade, 
 
 And daily darker sets it ; 
 And if nae mair mistakes are made, no more 
 
 The warld soon forgets it." 
 
 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 
 latter half of stanza fifth has been the subject of some criticism. 
 In 1851, Chambers thus directed attention to it in a foot-note : 
 "It is not often that the sagacity of Burns is open to challenge ; 
 but here certainly he is not philosophically right. It must always 
 be a questionable maxim which proposes to benefit the individual 
 at the expense of his fellow-creatures, or which, if generally fol- 
 lowed, would neutralise itself as this would do." This objection 
 was not relished by some of the poet's admiring countrymen : in 
 particular, the Scotsman, in reviewing Chambers's labors, remarked 
 that his comments, " when free from platitude, are not always void 
 of offence. The spectacle of Mr. Chambers, or indeed almost any 
 man, lecturing upon Burns as deficient in generosity, frankness, and 
 boldness of spirit, does not harmonise with one's idea of the fitness 
 of things." 
 
 One of the poet's early Carrick associates the late William 
 Niven, of Kilbride, Maybole always asserted that this epistle was 
 originally addressed to him, and shifted to Andrew Aiken as a 
 more profitable investment of his rhyming ware. Niven unfortu- 
 nately could never prove his assertion by production of the original ; 
 and there exists a letter from Burns to Niven dated 3oth August 
 1786 a month after the publication of the poem which is couched 
 in the most friendly terms, and refers to a recent hobnobbing 
 between the poet and him at Maybole, but contains no allusion to 
 this "Epistle." On the other hand, the Rev. Hamilton Paul, in 
 1819, adverts to Niven's assertion as being a well-known fact, and 
 calls it "the sole instance of disingenuousness which we have heard 
 charged against Burns."] 
 
 (This "Advice to a Young Friend" takes rank with Shakespere's 
 Advice to a Son, put in the mouth of Polonius. Together they 
 constitute the two master-pieces of the world as precepts for the 
 guidance of young men. ' ' Stanza 6 on ' The sacred lowe o' weel- 
 placed love,' is," says Waddell, "beyond criticism. . . Let every 
 youth inshrine it, as a most precious golden maxim, in his soul." 
 -J- H.) 
 
 We presume to differ from Chambers in his estimate of this verse. We con- 
 sider it as good as any in the Epistle, and sound, wise and "unco" human. 
 J. H.
 
 298 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. 
 
 ADDRESS OF BEELZEBUB. 
 
 (EDINBURGH MAGAZINE, 1818.) 
 
 To the Right Honorable the Earl of Breadalbane, President 
 of the Right Honorable and Honorable the Highland Society, 
 which met on the 23d of May last, at the Shakspeare, Covent 
 Garden, to concert ways and means to frustrate the designs of 
 five hundred Highlanders who, as the Society were informed by 
 Mr. M'Kenzie of Applecross, were so audacious as to attempt 
 an escape from their lawful lords and masters whose property 
 they are, by emigrating from the lands of Mr. Macdonald of 
 Glengarry to the wilds of Canada, in search of* that fantastic 
 thing LIBERTY. * 
 
 LONG life, my lord, an' health be yours, 
 UnskaitWd by hunger' d Highland boors ; unharmed 
 Lord grant nae duddie, desperate beggar, ragged 
 Wi' dirk, claymore, and rusty trigger, 
 May twin auld Scotland o' a life deprive 
 
 She likes as lambkins like a knife. 
 
 Faith, you and Applecross were right 
 
 To keep the Highland hounds in sight : 
 
 I doubt na ! they wad bid nae better, would purpose no 
 
 Than let them ance out owre the water, once over 
 
 Then up amang thae lakes and seas, these 
 
 They'll mak what rules and laws they please : make 
 
 Some daring Hancock, f or a Franklin, 
 
 May set their Highland bluid a-ranklin ; blood a-boiiing 
 
 Some Washington again may head them, 
 
 Or some Montgomery, fearless, lead them ; 
 
 * The present condition of the colony of Glengarry, Ontario, Canada, is such as 
 must gratify the heart of every philanthropist and loyal Scotsman. The descen- 
 dants of these escaped crofters of Glengarry are now a virtuous, cultured, pros- 
 perous race, as enthusiastically Highland as in the days when they "followed 
 to the field their warlike lord." They have found not only Liberty, but Indepen- 
 dence as well. J. H. 
 
 t John Hancock of Massachusetts whose name stands first among the signa* 
 tures to the Declaration of Independence. J. H.
 
 j.f. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 299 
 
 Till (God knows what may be effected 
 
 When by such heads and hearts directed), 
 
 Poor dunghill sons of dirt and mire 
 
 May to Patrician rights aspire ! 
 
 Nae sage North now, nor sager Sackville, actas % 
 
 To watch and premier o'er the pack vile, premier) 
 
 An' rvhare will ye get Howes and Clintons where 
 
 To bring them to a right repentance 
 
 To cowe the rebel generation, awe 
 
 An' save the honor o' the nation? 
 
 They, an' be d d ! what right hae they have 
 
 To meat, or sleep, or light o' day? 
 
 Far less to riches, pow'r, or freedom, 
 
 But what your lordship likes to gie them ? give 
 
 But hear, my lord ! Glengarry, hear ! 
 
 Your hand's owre light on them, I fear ; tot 
 
 \o\\rfactors, grieves, trustees, and agents } 
 
 bailies, * land-stewards ) 
 
 I canna say but they do gay lies ; tolerably well 
 
 They lay aside a' tender mercies, 
 
 An' tirl the hallions to the birses ; f 
 
 Yet while they're only poind^t and herriet, distrained) 
 
 They'll keep their stubborn Highland spirit : ^^^ 
 
 But smash them ! crash them a' to spails, chips 
 
 An' rot the dyvors i"> the jails ! bankrupts in 
 
 The young dogs, swinge them to the labor ; 
 
 Let wark an' hunger mak them sober ! work 
 
 The hizsies, if they're aughtli 
 
 Let them in Drury-lane be lesson' 
 
 An' if the wives an' dirty brats children 
 
 Come thiggin at your doors an' yetts, begging gates 
 
 * Bailies. The Baron's deputy in his domains. This is not to be confounded 
 with the bailie of a royal burgh. There the term answers to our alderman. J. H. 
 t And strip the ragged rascals to their hairy hides. J. H. 
 \ Drury L,ane was noted for nymphs of the pave. J. H.
 
 300 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. 
 
 Flaffin wi' duds, an' grey wi' beas',* 
 
 Frightin away your ducks an' geese ; frightening 
 
 Get out a horsewhip or a jowler, bulldog 
 
 The langest thong, the fiercest growler, 
 
 An' gar the tatter' d gypsies pack make 
 
 Wi' a' their bastards on their back ! 
 
 Go on, my I<ord ! I lang to meet you, long 
 
 An' in my "house at hame " to greet you; 
 
 Wi' common lords ye shanna mingle, shaiinot 
 
 The benmost neuk beside the ingle, f 
 
 At my right han' assigned your seat, 
 
 'Tween Herod's hip an' Polycrate ; 
 
 Or (if you on your station tarrow), disrelish 
 
 Between Almagro and Pizarro, 
 
 A seat, I'm sure ye' re weel deservin't ; 
 
 An' till ye come your humble servant, 
 
 BEELZEBUB. 
 
 June 1st, Anno Mundi 5790. 
 
 [This curious production must have been a hasty one, and not 
 much regarded by its author. The only known copy was presented 
 to Mr. John Rankine of Adamhill, and through him passed into 
 the hands of a friend who sent it for publication to the editor 
 of the Edinburgh Magazine for February 1818. 
 
 M'Kenzie of Applecross is remembered as a liberal-minded, 
 patriotic man, who strove to improve the condition of his ten- 
 antry. His views and those of the Highland Society must have 
 been misapprehended by the bard when he put this address into 
 the mouth of "Beelzebub." The signature of that august person- 
 age, detached from the poem, is preserved, among other autographs 
 of Burns, in the collection of W. F. Watson, Esq., Edinburgh.] 
 
 (This "Address" is remarkable chiefly as exhibiting the con- 
 densed energy of expression already attained by a ploughman lad 
 who had never been twenty miles from home. The six lines 
 beginning "Then tirl the hallions" are of matchless vigor; and yet 
 with all their wrathful vehemence and fury every word is as accu- 
 rately appropriate as if they had been written by Pope or Addison. 
 -J. H.) 
 
 * Fluttering in rags and grey with beasts (lice). J. H. 
 f The innermost corner beside the fire. J. EL
 
 T. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 301 
 
 A DREAM. 
 
 (KlLMARNOCK ED., 1786.) 
 
 Thoughts, words, and deeds, the Statute blames with reason ; 
 But surely, Dreams were ne'er indicted Treason. 
 
 On reading, in the public papers, the Laureate's Ode, with 
 the other parade of June 4th, 1786, the Author was no sooner 
 dropt asleep, than he imagined himself transported to the 
 Birth-day Levee : and, in his dreaming fancy, made the fol- 
 lowing Address : 
 
 GUID-MORNIN to your Majesty! 
 
 May Heaven augment your blisses 
 On ev'ry new birth-day ye see, 
 
 A humble pcet wishes. 
 My hardship here, at your L/evee 
 
 On sic a day as this is, such 
 
 Is sure an uncouth sight to see, 
 
 Amang thae birth -day dresses these 
 
 Sae fine this day. 
 
 I see ye' re complimented thrang, busily 
 
 By mony a lord an' lady ; 
 "God save the King" 's a cuckoo sang 
 
 That's tinco easy said ay : very 
 
 The poets, too, a venal gang, 
 
 Wi' rhymes weel-turn'd an' ready, 
 Wad gar you trow ye ne'er do wrang, make believe 
 
 But ay unerring steady, 
 
 On sic a day. uch 
 
 For me ! before a monarch's face, 
 
 Ev'n there I winna flatter; win not 
 
 For neither pension, post, nor place, 
 
 Am I your humble debtor :
 
 302 K)EMS AND SONGS. fi 7 86, 
 
 So, nae reflection on your Grace, na 
 
 Your Kingship to bespatter ; 
 There's mony waur been o' the race, worse 
 
 And aiblins ane been better mayhap one 
 
 Than you this day. 
 
 "Tis very true, my sovereign King, 
 
 My skill may weel be doubted ; 
 But facts are chiels that winna ding, 
 
 An' downa be disputed: * 
 Your royal nest, beneath your wing, 
 
 Is e'en right reft an' clouted, riven patched 
 And now the third part o' the string, 
 
 An' less, will gang about it 
 
 Than did ae day.f 
 
 Far "b&tfrae me that I aspire from 
 
 To blame your legislation, 
 Or say, ye wisdom want, or fire 
 
 To rule this mighty nation : 
 But faith ! I muckle doubt, my sire, much 
 
 Ye've trusted ministration 
 To chaps wha in a barn or byre fellows cow-stabie 
 
 Wad better fill'd their station, would 
 
 Than courts yon day. 
 
 And now ye've gien auld Britain peace, given 
 
 Her broken shins to plaister ; piaster 
 
 Your sair taxation does her fleece, sore 
 
 Till she has scarce a tester: sixpence 
 
 * This is one of Burns' apothegms that have become world-wide : Facts are 
 chiels that will not be overthrown and cannot be disputed.- -J. H. 
 
 tThe poet here alludes to the immense curtailment of the British dominions 
 which took place only three years before writing this poem viz. at the close o{ 
 the American War, when, by the treaties of 1783, the independence of the thir- 
 teen United States was acknowledged, and the extensive territory of Louisiana, 
 acquired by the treaty of 1763, was again restored to Spain. Mother-well.
 
 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 303 
 
 For me, thank God, my life's a lease, 
 
 Nae bargain wearin faster, 
 Or faith ! I fear, that, wi' the geese, 
 
 I shortly boost to pasture should behove 
 
 I' the craft* some day. 
 
 I'm no mistrusting Willie Pitt, 
 
 When taxes he enlarges, 
 (An' Will's a true guid fallow's get^ child 
 
 A name not envy spairges}^ asperses 
 
 That he intends to pay your debt, 
 
 An' lessen a' your charges ; 
 But, G d sake ! let nae saving fit 
 
 Abridge your bonie barges 
 
 An' boats this day.J 
 
 Adieu, my Liege ! may Freedom geek exult 
 
 Beneath your high protection ; 
 An' may ye rax Corruption's neck, stretch 
 
 And gie her for dissection ! give 
 
 But since I'm here, I'll no neglect, 
 
 In loyal, true affection, 
 To pay your Queen, wi' due respect, 
 
 My fealty an' subjection 
 
 This great birth-day. 
 
 Hail, Majesty most Excellent ! 
 
 While nobles strive to please ye, 
 Will ye accept a compliment, 
 
 A simple poet gies ye ? give* 
 
 * A small piece of ground adjoining the house. Hence the word crafter or 
 crofter, one who cultivates a craft or croft. J. H. 
 
 t Burns had a high admiration for the Earl of Chatham, father of Pitt. J. H. 
 
 I In the spring of 1786, some discussion arose in parliament about a proposal 
 to give up 64 gun ships, when the navy supplies were being considered. 
 
 I Persons who were hanged were given for dissection. J. H,
 
 804 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. 
 
 Thae bonie bairntime, Heav'n lias lent, children 
 
 Still higher may they heeze ye 
 In bliss, till fate some day is sent, 
 
 For ever to release ye 
 
 Frae care that day. 
 
 For you, young Potentate o' Wales,* 
 
 I tell your Highness fairly, 
 Down Pleasure's stream, wi' swelling sails, 
 
 I'm tauld ye' re driving rarely ; toia 
 
 But some day ye may gnaw your nails, 
 
 An' curse your folly sairly^ 
 That e'er ye brak Diana's pales, 
 
 Or rattl'd dice wi' Charlie f 
 
 By night or day. 
 
 Yet aft a ragged cowfs been known, rough coit 
 
 To mak a noble aiver ; cart-horse 
 
 So, ye may doucely fill a throne, decently 
 
 For a' their clish-ma-claver : gossip and scandal 
 There, him| at Agincourt wha shone, 
 
 Few better were or braver ; 
 And yet, wi' funny, queer Sir John, 
 
 He was an unco shaver 
 
 For mony a day. 
 
 For you, right rev' rend Osnaburg, \ 
 Nane sets the lawn-sleeve sweeter, < 
 
 Altho' a ribban at your lug ear 
 
 Wad been a dress completer: 
 
 As ye disown yon paughty dog, haughty 
 
 That bears the keys of Peter, 
 
 * Afterwards George IV. J. H. 
 
 f Charles James Pox, the distinguished orator and statesman, but a confirmed 
 gambler, &c. J. H. 
 
 J King Henry V. R. B. ? Sir John Falstaff, vid. Shakspeare. R. B. 
 
 | Frederick, first a Bishop, and afterwards Duke of York.
 
 JJT. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 305 
 
 Then smith! an' get a wife to hug, quick 
 
 Or trowthy ye' 11 stain the mitre in truth 
 
 Some luckless day ! 
 
 Young, royal u tarry-breeks" I learn, tarry-breeches 
 
 Ye've lately come athwart her 
 A glorious galley,* stem and stern, 
 
 Weel rigg'd for Venus' barter; 
 But first hang out that she'll discern 
 
 Your hymeneal charter; 
 Then heave aboard your grapple-a/rw, trot 
 
 An', large upon her quarter, 
 
 Come full that day. 
 
 Ye, lastly, bonie blossoms a', 
 
 ^e royal lasses dainty, 
 Heav'n mak you guid as weel as braw, dressed) 
 
 An' gie you lads a-plenty 1 give beaux 
 
 But sneer na British boys awa ! not 
 
 For kings are unco scant ay, very scare* 
 
 An' German gentles are but sma% 
 
 They're better just than want ayf 
 
 On ony day. toy 
 
 God bless you a' ! consider now, 
 
 Ye' re unco muckle dautet ; very much petted 
 
 But ere the course o' life be through, 
 
 It may be bitter sautet: salted 
 
 An' I hae seen their coggie fou^ 
 
 That yet hae tarrow't % at it ; 
 But or the day was done, I trow, 
 
 The laggen they hae dautet 
 
 Fu' clean that day. 
 
 * Alluding to the newspaper account of a certain Royal sailor's amour. R. B, 
 This was Prince William Henry, afterwards King William IV. who in his youtlt 
 espoused Mrs. Jordan the actress. 
 
 t German princes are of but small account as husbands for British princesses, 
 they are just better than none. J. H. 
 
 I To tarrow is to linger over a dish from distaste or satiety. J. H. 
 
 I The laggen is the angle between the side and bottom of a wooden dish. J. & 
 
 I. r
 
 306 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. 
 
 [The poet's letter to Mrs. Dunlop (April 3oth, 1787,) gives us a 
 hint of some of the difficulties he had to steer through, in his 
 endeavors to be on good terms with patrons, and yet retain his 
 independence. Allan Cunningham has observed that "the merits 
 of ' The Dream ' are of a high order the gaity as well as keen- 
 ness of the satire, and the vehement rapidity of the verse, are 
 not its only attractions. Even the prose introduction is sarcastic; 
 his falling asleep over the Laureate's Ode was a likely conse- 
 quence, for the birth-day strains of those times were something 
 of the dullest." Few poetical couplets are oftener quoted than 
 those in verse fourth I- 
 Facts are chiels that winna ding, 
 An' dowua be disputed. 
 
 The poem throughout has been long regarded as prophetic . ] (The 
 closing lines, which seem to prognosticate, or at least hint at, 
 possible changes threatening the Royal Family of England similar 
 to those which were then impending over the Bourbons, were, 
 happily, not verified. Allan Cunningham tells us that Burns was 
 solicited by Mrs. Dunlop and Mrs. Stewart of Stair to omit this 
 piece from his Edinburgh edition, but in vain ; and he says he 
 has heard the neglect shown by the Government to the Poet 
 imputed to "The Dream." J. H.) 
 
 A DEDICATION 
 
 TO GAVIN HAMILTON, ESQ. 
 ED., 1786.) 
 
 EXPECT na, sir, in this narration, 
 A fleechin, fletft rin Dedication, begging flattering 
 To roose you up, an' ca' you guid, praise good 
 An' sprung o' great an' noble bluid, blood 
 
 Because ye' re surnam'd like His Grace* 
 Perhaps related to the race : 
 
 Then, when I'm tir'd and sae are ye, so 
 
 Wi' mony a fulsome, sinfu' lee e 
 
 Set Up a face how I Stopt Short, pretence thai 
 
 For fear your modesty be hurt. 
 
 Xlie Duke of Hamilton, the premier peer of Scotland. J. H.
 
 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 307 
 
 This may do maun do, sir, wl them m ?*H 
 
 * with/ 
 
 Who, who 
 
 Maun please the great-folk for a wamefou; beiiyfui 
 
 For me ! sae laigh I need na bow, low 
 
 For, Lord be thanket, I can plough ; 
 
 And when I downa yoke a naig, cannot nag 
 
 Then, Lord be thanket, I can beg ; * 
 
 Sae I shall say an' that's nae flatt'rin not 
 
 It's just sic poet an' sic patron. such 
 
 The Poet, some guid angel help him, good 
 
 Or else, I fear, some ill ane skelp him ! one spank 
 
 He may do weel for a' he's done yet, well 
 But only he's no just begun yet. 
 
 The Patron (sir, ye maun forgie me ; 
 I winna lie, come what will o* me), wiirnot of 
 On ev'ry hand it will allow' d be, 
 He's just nae better than he shou'd be. 
 
 I readily and freely grant, 
 
 He downa see a poor man want ; cannot 
 
 What's no his ain, he winna tak it ; own will not 
 What ance he says, he winna break it ; once 
 
 Ought he can lend he'll no refus't, 
 Till aft his guidness is abus'd ; goodness 
 
 And rascals whyles that do him wrang, sometimes 
 Ev'n that, he does na mind it la ng ; not long remember 
 As master, landlord, husband, father, 
 He does na fail his part in either. 
 
 But then, nae thanks to him for a' that ; no 
 Nae godly symptom ye can ca> that ; call 
 
 It's nae thing but a milder feature 
 Of our poor, sinfu', corrupt nature : 
 
 * Burns here again refers to begging as a by no means improbable or very dis- 
 tasteful, dernier resort. See Note on the equanimity with which the Scotch peas- 
 antry contemplated this resource: "Epistle to Davie," p. 87.
 
 308 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. 
 
 Ye' 11 get the best o' moral works, 
 
 1 " Mang black Gentoos, and pagan Turks, among 
 
 Or hunters wild on Ponotaxi, 
 
 Wha never heard of orthodoxy. 
 
 That he's the poor man's friend in need, 
 
 The gentleman in word and deed, 
 
 It's no thro' terror of d-mn-t-n ; 
 
 It's just a carnal inclination. 
 
 Morality, thou deadly bane, 
 Thy tens o' thousands thou hast slain ! 
 Vain is his hope, whase stay an' trust is whose 
 In moral mercy, truth, and justice ! 
 
 No stretch a point to catch a plack; penny 
 
 Abuse a brother to his back ; 
 
 Steal thro' the winnock frae a whore, window from 
 But point the rake that taks the door ; enters by 
 Be to the poor like onie whunstane, anywhinstone 
 And haud their noses to the grunstane ; grindstone 
 Ply ev'ry art o' legal thieving ; 
 No matter stick to sound believing. 
 
 Learn three-mile pray'rs, an' half-mile graces, 
 Wi' weel-spread looves, an' lang, wry faces ; paims 
 Grunt up a solemn, lengthen' d groan, 
 And damn cC parties but your own ; ail 
 
 I'll warrant then, ye' re nae deceiver, 
 A steady, sturdy, staunch believer. 
 
 O ye wha leave the springs o' Calvin, 
 For gumlie dubs of your ain delvin ! muddy pools 
 Ye sons of Heresy and Error, 
 Ye' 11 some day squeel in quaking terror, 
 When Vengeance draws the sword in wrath, 
 And in the fire throws the sheath ;
 
 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 309 
 
 When Ruin, with his sweeping besom, 
 Just frets till Heav'n commission gies him ; 
 While o'er the harp pale Misery moans, 
 And strikes the ever-deep' ning tones, 
 Still louder shrieks, and heavier groans 1 
 
 Your pardon, sir, for this digression : 
 I maist forgat my Dedication ; 
 But when divinity comes 'cross me, 
 My readers still are sure to lose me. 
 
 So, sir, you see 'twas nae daft vapor ; 
 But I maturely thought it proper, 
 When a' my works I did review, 
 To dedicate them, sir, to you : 
 Because (ye need na tak> it ill), not take 
 
 I thought them something like yoursel. 
 
 Then patronize them wi' your favor, 
 And your petitioner shall ever - 
 I had amaist said, ever pray, almost 
 
 But that's a word I need na say ; 
 For prayin, I hae little skill o't, 
 I'm baith dead-sweer, an' wretched ill tf '/; muchaverse l 
 
 at it/ 
 
 But I'se repeat each poor man's pray'r, 
 
 That kens or hears about you, sir - knows 
 
 " May ne'er Misfortune's gowling bark, 
 
 Howl thro' the dwelling o' the clerk ! 
 
 May ne'er his gen'rous, honest heart, 
 
 For that same gen'rous spirit smart ! 
 
 May Kennedy's far-honor' d name* 
 
 Lang beet his hymeneal flame, fan 
 
 * Mr. Hamilton's wife belonged to The Kennedys, an ancient and influential 
 family in Carrick.
 
 810 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. 
 
 Till Hamilton's, at least a dizzen, dozen 
 
 Are frae their nuptial labors risen : 
 
 Five bonie lasses round their table, 
 
 And sev'n braw fellows, stout an' able, 
 
 To serve their king an' country weel, 
 
 By word, or pen, or pointed steel ! 
 
 May health and peace, with mutual rays, 
 
 Shine on the ev'ning o' his days ; 
 
 Till his wee, curlie John's ier-oe, greatgrandchild 
 
 When ebbing life nae mair shall flow, no 
 
 The last, sad, mournful rites bestow ! ' ' 
 
 I will not wind a lang conclusion, 
 With complimentary effusion ; 
 But, whilst your wishes and endeavors 
 Are blest with Fortune's smiles and favors, 
 I am, dear sir, with zeal most fervent, 
 Your much indebted, humble servant 
 
 But if (which Pow'rs above prevent) 
 That iron-hearted carl, Want, fellow 
 
 Attended, in his grim advances, 
 By sad mistakes, and black mischances, 
 While hopes, and joys, and pleasures fly him, 
 Make you as poor a dog as I am, 
 Your ' humble servant ' then no more ; 
 For who would humbly serve the poor? 
 But, by a poor man's hopes in Heav'n ! 
 While recollection's pow'r is giv'n 
 If, in the vale of humble life, 
 The victim sad of fortune's strife, 
 I, thro' the tender-gushing tear, 
 Should recognise my master dear; 
 If friendless, low, we meet together, 
 Then, sir, your hand my friend and brother!
 
 SJT. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 311 
 
 [In all likelihood, this characteristic effusion was composed with 
 a view to its occupying a place in front of the author's first pub- 
 lication ; but probably its freedom of sentiment and lack of rever- 
 ence for matters orthodox would stagger its cautious and circumspect 
 typographer. It was accordingly slipped into the book near the 
 close, in fellowship with "The Louse," and some subjects less 
 dainty in character than those first presented to the reader. This 
 "dedication" is nevertheless esteemed one of the best poems in 
 the volume ; and none of the author's lines are more frequently 
 on the lips of his readers than some of its pithy sentences. 
 Indeed, the bard's correspondence testifies that he was himself fond 
 of quoting its couplets occasionally. The gentleman to whom it 
 is addressed was, in every respect, a man after Burns' own heart ; 
 and this fact is very quaintly told in the passage where he explains 
 his reason for dedicating the poems to Hamilton : 
 
 " Because ye needna tak it ill 
 I thought them something like yoursel." 
 
 According to Mr. Lockhart, "Hamilton's family, though pro- 
 fessedly adhering to the Presbyterian Establishment, had always 
 lain under a strong suspicion of Episcopalianisru. Gavin's grand- 
 father had been curate of Kirkoswald in the troublous times that 
 preceded the Revolution, and incurred popular hatred in conse- 
 quence of being supposed to have been instrumental in bringing 
 a thousand of the 'Highland host' into that region in 1677." We 
 rather suspect this was the great-grandfather of the poet's friend, 
 named Claud, who died in 1699, and whose son John was a writer 
 in Edinburgh. 
 
 Gavin's father was also a writer in Mauchline, inhabiting the old 
 castellated mansion which still exists near the church. Cromek 
 mentions that the Rev. William Auld had quarrelled with the senior 
 Hamilton, and sought every occasion of revenging himself on the 
 son. Be that as it may, our notes at pp. 95 and 97 sufficiently 
 narrate the annoyances to which Gavin was subjected by the Kirk 
 Session ; and the author's text there, and elsewhere, shews the 
 measure of the reprisal that followed. 
 
 One of the existing representatives of Mr. Hamilton is Major 
 Wallace Adair, husband of a granddaughter of Gavin, and himself a 
 grandson of Charlotte Hamilton, sister of the subject of the text. 
 
 Cromek mentions that he had seen a copy of this poem, in 
 which one of Hamilton's great sins, in the eyes of Daddy Auld 
 and Holy Willie, is thus neatly introduced : 
 
 He sometimes gallops on a Sunday, 
 
 An* pricks his beast as it were Monday.] , :
 
 312 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. 
 
 VERSIFIED NOTE TO DR. MACKENZIE, 
 MAUCHLINE. 
 
 (HOGG AND MOTHERWEI,!/, 1835.) 
 
 FRIDAY first's the day appointed 
 By the Right Worshipful anointed, 
 
 To hold our grand procession ; 
 To get a blad o' Johnie's morals, piece 
 
 And taste a swatch o' Hanson's barrels sample 
 
 I' the way of our profession. 
 The Master and the Brotherhood 
 Would a' be glad to see you ; 
 For me I would be mair than proud 
 
 To share the mercies wi' you. good things 
 
 If Death, then, wi' skaith, then, harm 
 
 Some mortal heart is hechtin, threatening 
 
 Inform him, and storm him, buiiy 
 
 That Saturday you'll fecht him. fight 
 
 ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Mossgiel, An. M. 5790. 
 
 [The masonic date appended to the foregoing rhyme, signifies 
 A. D. 1786. Our notes hitherto, (except in connection with the 
 bacchanalian song given at page 37,) have had no occasion to 
 refer to the poet's passion for Free-masonry. He had, in July 
 1784, been raised to the position of Depute Master of St. James" 
 Lodge, Tarbolton, from which period down to May 1788, he con- 
 tinued frequently to sign the minutes in that capacity. On 24th 
 June 1786, being St. John's Day, a grand procession of the lodge 
 took place by previous arrangement, and the lines forming the 
 text shew the style in which he invited his brother-mason, Dr. 
 Mackenzie, to be present on the occasion. The Lodge held its 
 meetings in a back-room of the principal inn of the village kept 
 by a person named Manson. It is not very clear who was the 
 "Johnie" thus expected to dilate on morals: Professor Walker 
 tells us it was John Mackenzie himself, whose favorite topic was 
 "the origin of Morals."]
 
 . 28.3 POEMS AND SONGS. 313 
 
 THE FAREWEU,. 
 
 TO THE BRETHREN OF ST. JAMES'S LODGE, TARBOI/TON. 
 
 Tune. "Goodnight, and joy be wi' you a'." 
 
 (KI^MARNOCK ED., 1786.) 
 
 ADIEU ! a heart-warm, fond adieu ; 
 
 Dear brothers of the MYSTIC TYE ! 
 Ye favored, ye ENLIGHTEN' D few, 
 
 Companions of my social joy ; 
 Tho' I to foreign lands must hie, 
 
 Pursuing Fortune's slidd^ry bd 1 ; slippery bail 
 With melting heart, and brimful eye, 
 
 I'll mind you still, tho' far awa. 
 
 Oft have I met your social band, 
 
 And spent the cheerful, festive night : 
 Oft, honor' d with supreme command, 
 
 Presided o'er the SONS OF LIGHT : 
 And by that HIEROGLYPHIC bright, 
 
 Which none but CRAFTSMEN ever saw 
 Strong Mem'ry on my heart shall write 
 
 Those happy scenes, when far awa. 
 
 May Freedom, Harmony, and Love, 
 
 Unite you in the GRAND DESIGN, 
 Beneath th' Omniscient Eye above 
 
 The glorious ARCHITECT Divine, 
 That you may keep th' UNERRING LINE, 
 
 Still rising by the PLUMMET'S LAW, 
 Till ORDER bright completely shine, 
 
 Shall be my pray'r when far awa,
 
 314 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. 
 
 And YOU, farewell ! whose merits claim 
 
 Justly that HIGHEST BADGE to wear : 
 Heav'n bless your honor' d, noble name, 
 
 To MASONRY and SCOTIA dear ! 
 A last request permit me here,- 
 
 When yearly ye assemble a', 
 One round, I ask it with a tear, 
 
 To him, THE BARD THAT'S FAR AWA. 
 
 [An examination of the minute-book of the lodge shews that 
 on 23d June 1786, the poet was present at a meeting preparatory 
 to the grand procession referred to in the last piece. No other 
 lodge-meeting was held till the 2gth of July, which Burns also 
 attended; and as the present song formed part of the volume 
 which was put into the hands of the public on the last day of 
 that month, we may assume that the occasion on which the poet 
 repeated or sang the verses to the brethren was on the 23d or 
 24th of June. He was then full of the intention of sailing before 
 the close of August ; for we find him writing to a friend on 3oth 
 July : 
 
 "My hour is now come : you and I shall never meet in Britain 
 more. I have orders, within three weeks at furthest, to repair 
 aboard the NANCY, Captain Smith, from Clyde to Jamaica." 
 
 It would appear that Captain James Montgomery (a younger 
 brother of Col. Hugh Montgomery of Coilsfield) was, about this 
 period, Grandmaster of St- James Lodge ; and Chambers tells us 
 that the first four lines of the closing stanza of this song refer to 
 him. On the other hand, a little work of some pretensions, called 
 "A winter with Robert Burns," asserts that the reference is to 
 William Wallace "of the Tarbolton St. David's," Sheriff of the 
 County of Ayr a name "to masonry and Scotia dear." A note 
 in the "Aldine" edition tells us that this half-stanza refers to 
 Sir John Whitefoord.]
 
 28.1 POEMS AND SONGS. 315 
 
 ON A SCOTCH BARD, 
 
 GONE TO THE WEST INDIES. 
 (KlLMARNOCK ED., 1786.) 
 
 A' ye wha live by sowps o' drink, sups 
 
 A' ye wha live by crambo-clink, versifying 
 
 A' ye wha live and never think, 
 
 Come, mourn wi' me \ 
 Our billie's gien us a' a jink,* 
 
 An' owre the sea ! over 
 
 Lament him a' ye rantin core, corps 
 
 Wha dearly like a random-splore ; occasional frolic 
 Nae mair he'll join the merry roar, 
 
 In social key ; 
 For now he's taen anither shore, taken 
 
 An' owre the sea 1 
 
 The bonie lasses weel may wiss him, wish 
 
 And in their dear petitions place him : 
 The widows, wives, an' a' may bless him 
 
 Wi' tearfu' e'e ; wcll 
 
 For weel I wat they'll sairly miss him sorely i 
 
 That's owre the sea! 
 
 O Fortune, they hae room to grumble ! 
 
 Hadst thou taen aff some drowsy bummle, blunderer 
 
 Wha can do nought but fyke an' fumble, nomat teri 
 
 'Twad been nae plea ; for com- | 
 But he was gleg as onie wumble, 8 h a rp gimlet 
 
 That's owre the sea ! 
 
 Our brother has given us all the slip. J. H.
 
 816 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. 
 
 Auld, cantie Kyle * may weepers wear, m u n g> 
 
 ., , f badges/ 
 
 An' stain them wi the saut, saut tear : sai t 
 
 'Twill mak her poor auld heart, I fear, 
 
 In flinders flee : fragments fly 
 
 He was her Laureat mony a year, many 
 
 That's owre the sea 1 
 
 He saw Misfortune's cauld nor- west 
 
 L,ang mustering up a bitter blast ; 
 
 A jillet\ brak his heart at last, jut 
 
 111 may she be ! 
 So, took a berth afore the mast, 
 
 An' owre the sea. 
 
 To tremble under Fortune's cummock, rod 
 
 On Scarce a bellyfu' O' drummock, meal and cold water 
 
 Wi' his proud, independent stomach, 
 
 Could ill agree ; 
 So, row' this hurdies in a hammock, roiled posteriors 
 
 An' owre the sea. 
 
 He ne'er vrasgien to great misguidin, given 
 
 Yet coin his pouches wad na bide in ; pockets stay 
 
 Wi' him it ne'er was under hidin ; 
 
 He dealt it free : 
 The Muse was a' that he took pride in, 
 
 That's owre the sea. 
 
 Jamaica bodies, use him weel, 
 
 An' hap him in a cozie biel : cover snugsneitei 
 
 Ye' 11 find him ay a dainty chiel, 
 
 An' fou o' glee : 
 He wad na wrang>d the vera 
 
 That's owre the sea. 
 
 See p. 203. t J ean Armour.
 
 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 317 
 
 Fareweel, my rhyme-composing billie ! brother 
 Your native soil was right ill-willie ; spiteful 
 
 But may ye flourish like a lily, 
 
 Now bonilie ! 
 I'll toast you in my hindmost gillie, gin of whisky 
 
 Tho' owre the sea ! 
 
 [This playful ode shines out cheerfully among the poet's more 
 pathetic leave-takings of the period. He puts it into the mouth 
 of an imaginary "rhyme-composing brother;" but not one of the 
 tribe, except the bard of Kyle himself, could have produced such 
 an original and happy strain. His own picture is painted to the 
 life, in all his "ranting, roving Robin-hood;" and yet, amid his 
 rollicking, he throws in a touch of the true pathetic, just to show 
 his reader how 
 
 "Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure, 
 Thrill the deepest notes of woe." 
 
 He who, only a few months before, had sung so despairingly in 
 "The Lament," and kindred effusions, concerning 
 
 " A faithless woman's broken vow," 
 
 here reverts to the same theme in a strain of smothered bit- 
 terness : 
 
 " He saw Misfortune's cauld nor-west 
 I,ang mustering up a bitter blast ; 
 A jillet brak his heart at last, 
 
 111 may she be \ 
 So, took a birth afore the mast, 
 
 An' owre the sea.") 
 
 SONG FAREWELL TO ELIZA. 
 
 Tune " Gilderoy." 
 
 (KlLMARNOCK ED., 1786.) 
 
 FROM thee, Eliza, I must go, 
 And from my native shore ; 
 
 The cruel fates between us throw 
 A boundless ocean's roar :
 
 318 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785, 
 
 But boundless oceans, roaring wide^ 
 
 Between my love and me, 
 They never, never can divide 
 
 My heart and soul from thee. 
 
 Farewell, farewell, Eliza dear, 
 
 The maid that I adore ! 
 A boding voice is in mine ear, 
 
 We part to meet no more! 
 But the latest throb that leaves my heart, 
 
 While Death stands victor by, 
 That throb, Eliza, is thy part, 
 
 And thine that latest sigh ! 
 
 [In the Ode on a Scotch Bard, the author took a general fare- 
 well of the " bonie lasses widows, wives an' a'," and here he 
 singles out one in particular, from among "the belles of Mauch- 
 line," in whom he seems to have a more special interest. The 
 language is almost identical with that in which he addressed Jean 
 Armour shortly before, "Tho* cruel fate," &c. (see p. 123). That 
 he really had some of "his random fits o' daffin " with a young 
 woman bearing this Christian name, is evident from a few words 
 that dropped from him after his "eclatant return" from Edinburgh 
 to Mauchline. 
 
 On nth June 1787, in a letter to his friend James Smith, then 
 at Linlithgow, he says "Your mother, sister, and brother; my 
 quondam Eliza, &c., are all well." Chambers, from a variety of 
 circumstances, came to the conclusion that this "Eliza" was the 
 "braw Miss Betty" of the "six proper young belles," so distin- 
 guished by the poet in his canzonette given at page 73. She was 
 sister to Miss Helen Miller, the wife of Dr. Mackenzie, and died 
 shortly after being married to a Mr. Templeton.]
 
 a80 POEMS AND SONGS. BIB 
 
 A BARD'S EPITAPH. 
 ED., 1786.) 
 
 Is there a whim-inspired fool, 
 
 Owre fast for thought, owre hot for rule, too 
 
 Owre blate to seek, owre proud to snooL tWiH 
 
 ' . r ' crouch i 
 
 Let him draw near ; 
 
 And owre this grassy heap sing dool, lamentation* 
 And drap a tear. 
 
 Is there a bard of rustic song, 
 
 Who, noteless, steals the crowds among, 
 
 That weekly this arena throng, 
 
 O, pass not byl 
 But, with a frater-feeling strong, 
 
 Here, heave a sigh. 
 
 Is there a man, whose judgment clear 
 Can others teach the course to steer, 
 Yet runs, himself, life's mad career, 
 
 Wild as the wave, 
 Here pause and, thro' the starting ttai, 
 
 Survey this grave. 
 
 The poor inhabitant below 
 
 Was quick to learn and wi*e; to know, 
 
 And keenly felt the friendly glow, 
 
 And softer flame; 
 But thoughtless follies laid him low, 
 
 And stain' d his name! 
 
 Reader, attend ' whether thy soul 
 Soars fancy's flights beyond the pole,
 
 320 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786, 
 
 Or darkling grubs this earthly 
 
 In low pursuit ; 
 
 Know, prudent, cautious, self-control 
 Is wisdom's root 
 
 [The poet's labors to feed the Kilmarnock press of John Wilson 
 with sufficient materials to make up a volume of moderate thick- 
 ness were drawing to a close ; and, having bade farewell to "friends 
 and foes," he had only now to compose his own Epitaph. The 
 Elegy on himself, given at page 128 supra, did not altogether 
 satisfy him ; so he tasked his muse to the utmost, and produced 
 in the text, what, with common consent, is allowed to be equally 
 truthful, pathetic, and sublime. 
 
 In some extempore verses, dashed off at this period, he speaks 
 thus lightly of his probable death as the result of his intended 
 expatriation : 
 
 And now I must mount on the wave, 
 
 My voyage perhaps there is death in; 
 But what of a watery grave ? 
 
 The drowning a poet is naething Q 
 
 EPITAPH FOR ROBERT AIKEN, ESQ. 
 
 (KllyMARNOCK ED., 1786.) 
 
 KNOW thou, O stranger to the fame 
 Of this much lov'd, much honored name ! 
 (For none that knew him need be told) 
 A warmer heart death ne'er made cold. 
 
 [The above is a kindly compliment to his warm friend Mr. 
 Aiken the "orator Bob" of the ecclesiastical courts, in their 
 proceedings against Gavin Hamilton, and against Dr. M'Gill. To 
 this gentleman, who was a life-long friend of the bard from the 
 date of their first acquaintance, the "Cottar's Saturday Night" ifl 
 dedicated. He survived the poet, till 24th March 1807.]
 
 T. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 321 
 
 EPITAPH FOR GAVIN HAMILTON, ESQ. 
 
 (KII.MARNOCK ED., 1786.) 
 
 THE poor man weeps here Gavin sleeps, 
 Whom canting wretches blam'd ; 
 
 But with such as he, where'er he be, 
 May I be sav'd or d d 1 
 
 [Here is a characteristic turn of the poet's pen in favor of his 
 honest, but greatly maligned, friend and neighbor, Mr. Hamilton, 
 of whom we have already had occasion to say a good deal. He 
 survived till 8th Feb. 1805, dying at the comparatively early age 
 of fifty-two. A year after his death, his daughter Wilhelmina 
 (referred to in one of the poet's letters) married the Rev. John 
 Tod, a successor of Daddy Auld as parish minister of Mauchline. 
 Mr. Tod died in 1844, and his wife survived till 1858, leaving 
 several descendants.] 
 
 EPITAPH ON "WEE JOHNIE." 
 
 (KH,MARNOCK ED., 1786.) 
 Hie Jacet wee Johnie. 
 
 WHOE'ER thou art, O reader, know 
 That Death has murder' d Johnie ; 
 
 An' here his body lies fu' low ; 
 For saul he ne'er had ony. 
 
 [From the day that Burns came before the world as an author 
 till the day of his death, and seventy years beyond that event, 
 the poet's readers had a tacit understanding that these four lines 
 had been waggishly inserted in the last sheet of his book, as a 
 satire not a very wicked one on his printer. How that under- 
 standing arose does not appear. The decent little typographer, 
 however, (who was really a master of his own art, although, in 
 the eyes of genius, destitute of the "divine afflatus"), was not a 
 whit the worse of setting up in type his own " Hie jacet." Hfl 
 L U
 
 322 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. 
 
 prospered in the world, and died at Ayr on 6th May 1821. By his 
 own instructions, his body was removed to his favorite Kilmar- 
 nock, where his true "Hie jacet" may be read in the High Church 
 burial ground. He bequeathed, under very peculiar restrictions, a 
 small mortification for educational purposes, to his native town, 
 of which he was for sometime a magistrate.] 
 
 THE LASS O' BALLOCHMYLE. 
 
 (CURRIE l8oo.) 
 Tune. "Ettrick Banks." 
 
 'TwAS even the dewy fields were green, 
 
 On every blade the pearls hang ; 
 The zephyr wan ton' d round the bean, 
 
 And bore its fragrant sweets alang : 
 In ev'ry glen the mavis sang, 
 
 All nature list'ning seem'd the while, 
 Except where greenwood echoes rang, 
 
 Amang the braes o' Ballochmyle. 
 
 With careless step I onward stray 'd, 
 
 My heart rejoic'd in nature's joy, 
 When, musing in a lonely glade, 
 
 A maiden fair I chanc'd to spy : 
 Her look was like the morning's eye, 
 
 Her air like nature's vernal smile ; 
 Perfection whisper' d, passing by, 
 
 " Behold the lass o' Ballochmyle 1" 
 
 Fair is the morn in flowery May, 
 And sweet is night in autumn mild ; 
 
 When roving thro' the garden gay, 
 Oi wand' ring in the lonely wild;
 
 THE LASS O' BALLOCHMYLE.
 
 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 323 
 
 But woman, nature' s darling child ! 
 
 There all her charms she does compile ; 
 Even there her other works are foil'd 
 
 By the bonie lass o' Ballochmyle. 
 
 O had she been a country maid, 
 
 And I the happy country swain, 
 Tho' shelter' d in the lowest shed 
 
 That ever rose on Scotland's plain 1 
 Thro' weary winter's wind and rain, 
 
 With joy, with rapture, I would toil ; 
 And nightly to my bosom strain 
 
 The bonie lass o' Ballochmyle. 
 
 Then pride might climb the slipp'ry steep, 
 
 Where fame and honors lofty shine ; 
 And thirst of gold might tempt the deep, 
 
 Or downward seek the Indian mine : 
 Give me the cot below the pine, 
 
 To tend the flocks or till the soil ; 
 And ev'ry day have joys divine 
 
 With the bonie lass o' Ballochmyle. 
 
 [According to the poet's own information, on a lovely evening 
 in July 1786, before the summer's heat had browned the vernal 
 glory of the season, and while the fragrant blossom yet lingered 
 on the hawthorn, the muse suggested this famous lyric. His cor- 
 recting of the press, involving many a journey to and from 
 Kilmarnock, was then accomplished ; and while waiting, no doubt 
 with some anxiety, for publication day, he indulged himself with 
 one of his wonted strolls on the banks of Ayr at Ballochmyle. In 
 these romantic retreats, while his "heart rejoiced in nature's joy," 
 fresh animation was added to the scene by the unexpected approach 
 of Miss Williamina Alexander, the sister of the new proprietor 
 of that estate ; and although she only crossed his path like a 
 vision, the above verses were the result of that incident. 
 
 In a warmly-composed letter, he enclosed the song to the lady ; 
 referring with much animation to the occasion which gave it birth. 
 That communication bears date the i8th of November 1786, when
 
 324 
 
 POEMS AND SONGS. 
 
 [1786. 
 
 the success or His first publication had encouraged him to drop his 
 emigration scheme, and to resolve on a second edition to be pub- 
 lished in Edinburgh. His professed object in addressing the lady 
 was to obtain her consent to the printing of the song in the new 
 edition. It would appear, however, that Miss Alexander judged it 
 prudent not to reply to the poet's request But a day at length 
 arrived when she was proud to exhibit the letter and the poem 
 together in a glass case. A few years ago, the writer of this note 
 bad the pleasure of examining that interesting production, which 
 ,now hangs on the wall of the " spence " or back-parlor of the 
 farm of Mossgiel, the place selected about twenty years ago, by 
 the relatives of the heroine of the song, as the fittest for its 
 
 Exhibition to "all and sundries." The hand- writing is more care- 
 ess than usual, and shews occasionally a mis-spelled word. 
 
 Our woodcut of the interior of Mossgiel farm-house is from a 
 irawing by Sir Win. Allan, kindly lent by its possessor, W. F. 
 Watson, Esq., Edinburgh. 
 
 We have only to add that the "Bonie Lass" herself died un- 
 married in 1843, a g e( i 88- She must thus have been 31 years 
 old IB 1786.]
 
 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 325 
 
 MOTTO PREFIXED TO THE AUTHOR'S FIRST 
 PUBLICATION. 
 
 (Kn,MARNOCK ED., 1786.) 
 
 THE simple Bard, unbroke by rules of art, 
 He pours the wild effusions of the heart ; 
 And if inspir'd, 'tis Nature's pow'rs inspire ; 
 Her's all the melting thrill, and her's the kindling 
 fire. 
 
 [The famous Kilmarnock volume of Burns, with the above motto, 
 (evidently his own composition), on its title-page, was ready for 
 distribution on the same day (3oth July 1786) on which he penned 
 an excited letter to his friend Richmond in Edinburgh, from 
 "Old Rome Forest," near Kilmarnock. The father of Jean Armour, 
 having learned that the poet had executed a formal conveyance 
 of his personal effects, including the copyright of his poems, and 
 the profits to arise from their sale, in favor of his brother Gilbert, 
 for the up-bringing of his "dear-bought Bess," obtained a legal 
 warrant to apprehend Burns till he should find security to meet 
 the prospective alimentary claim of his daughter Jean. The poet, 
 through some secret channel, heard of this ; and he thus confided 
 himself to Richmond: "I am wandering from one friend's house 
 to another, and, like a true son of the Gospel, have nowhere to 
 lay my head. I know you will pour an execration on her head ; 
 but spare the poor, ill-advised girl, for my sake. I write in a 
 moment of rage, reflecting on my miserable situation exiled, 
 abandoned, forlorn." We have no letters of Burns dated from 
 home during the following month of August, which seems to have 
 been spent in secret journeys from one locality to another, gather- 
 ing the fruits of his recent publication.]
 
 SALE OF THE KILMARNOCK EDITION. 
 
 The original of the account of John Wilson of Kil- 
 marnock for the printing of Burns' s Poems, with a 
 list of subscribers, or rather of persons to whom Wilson 
 gave out copies on account of the author, is in posses- 
 sion of Robert Cole, Esq., of 52 Upper Norton Place, 
 London. Wilson's account is as follows : 
 
 MR. ROBERT BURNS, 
 
 To JOHN WrwoN, Dr. 
 s. d. 
 
 Aug. 28, 1786. Printing 15 sheets at igs 14 5 o 
 
 19 Reams 13 quires paper at 17$. . 16 4 o 
 
 Carriage of the paper o 8 9 
 
 Stitching 612 copies in blue paper 
 
 at i%d. 493 
 
 35 I? o 
 Aug. 19. By cash 6 3 o 
 
 " 28. " " 14 13 o 
 
 By 70 copies 10 10 o 
 
 31 6 o 
 
 4 II o 
 By 9 copies i 7 o 
 
 34o 
 Oct. 6th. By cash in full 3 4 o 
 
 Settled the above account. 
 
 Kilmarnock. JOHN WILSON. 
 
 It appears that Mr. Wilson had here, by an error 
 in his arithmetic, undercharged the poet ten shillings 
 the second item in the account being properly ^"16, 
 14^., instead of ^16, 4^. 
 
 Six hundred copies, at 3.9. each, would produce ^90 ; 
 and if there were no more to be deducted from that 
 sum than the expenses of paper, print, and stitching, 
 there would remain upwards of ^54 as profit. The 
 poet, however, speaks of realising only 20 by the 
 speculation. 
 
 326
 
 NOTE BY EDITORS. 
 
 The poetry in the preceding pages comprises all 
 that appeared in the Kilmarnock edition of Burns 
 Works, as well as many pieces written anterior to the 
 date of the publication of that volume (August, 1786) 
 but not appearing therein. Several of these were in- 
 serted by the poet himself in the subsequent Edin- 
 burgh editions ; others were recovered after his death 
 by Dr. Currie, Cromek, and subsequent editors, from 
 the Common-place books in which Burns had entered 
 them in holograph, or from friends to whom he had 
 given copies of them. A considerable number of the 
 songs here appearing, though all composed within this 
 period, were printed for the first time in Johnson's 
 Museum, the first volume of which was not issued till 
 1788. It will be understood then that all the poetical 
 pieces known to have been composed before Aug. 1786 
 appear in this volume, but none of later date. 
 
 We now proceed to give the chronologically corres- 
 ponding prose matter, premising merely that the his- 
 torical portion carries us back to a date considerably 
 anterior to the poet's birth, while the Autobiography 
 was not written till August 1787. With this last ex- 
 ception (accounted for hereafter), all the poet's prose 
 compositions (consisting entirely of letters) in this vol- 
 ume are of date not later than the appearance of the 
 Kilmarnock Edition. 
 
 327
 
 PROSE WORKS. 
 
 LIFE AND LETTERS OF ROBERT BURNS, 
 
 THE POET'S AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 No one can read with full intelligence the produc- 
 tions of a writer of such intense individuality, and so 
 sensitively susceptible of impressions, as Burns, who 
 has not some acquaintance with the man himself, as 
 well as with his life-history. His works are really a 
 reflex not only of his mental constitution and the occa- 
 sions that called them forth, but also of the conditions 
 under which each of them was produced. Man is 
 largely the creature of his surroundings and to know 
 him thoroughly we must know not only the native 
 character of his mind his mental idiosyncracy, as it 
 is called but also the circumstances amid which he 
 was cradled and grew up, and note to what extent 
 these operated to mould his character and affect his 
 modes of thought. All this no one can enable us to 
 see so clearly of the Bard of Scotland as Robert Burns 
 himself. No person of culture and refinement, moving 
 in the higher walks of social life, can realize how a 
 poor, half-educated peasant judges and feels from what 
 point of view he looks at matters, by what motives he 
 is actuated, and what calls forth his admiration, indig- 
 328
 
 MAP OF" THE 
 
 ;?siairiKs)iflS 
 
 StT THC CLOS6 OF LflST CCnTURY. 
 SPECIALLY DESIGNED TO ACCOMPANY THE COMPLETE EDITION OF BURNS 
 
 Briiith Hiltt.
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 329 
 
 nation or scorn unless he get that peasant to speak 
 out openly and frankly for himself. 
 
 It is under this conviction that we introduce thus 
 early in this edition of the works of Burns, his Auto- 
 biography as communicated by him in a letter to Dr. 
 Moore, written in the summer recess of 1787, betwixt 
 the poet's first and second sojourn in the Scottish capi- 
 tal, thus giving the important document chronological 
 precedence over some of his earlier writings. It would 
 be manifestly unjust to subject a communication not 
 designed for the public to the tests of rigid criticism. 
 We are not to look in it for either studied elegance 
 of expression or complete correctness of composition. 
 But, on the other hand, it displays to us, all the more 
 truthfully, the man himself, portrayed with all his 
 native vigor and all his frank open-hearted sincerity. 
 In this letter, written in the confidence of private 
 friendship, he seems to have forgotten his own maxim : 
 
 " But aye keep something to yoursel' ye scarcely tell to ony " 
 
 The original manuscript of the autobiography that, 
 namely, forwarded to Dr. Moore is now preserved in 
 the British Museum.* The author had retained a 
 verbatim copy, perusal of which he granted to the 
 Duchess of Athole, to ' ' Clarinda ' ' and others. This, 
 in passing through so many hands, got into a tattered 
 condition, and the poet caused it to be transcribed by 
 an amanuensis into one of two MS. volumes of his 
 then unpublished writings collected for and presented 
 to his friend and neighbor, Robert Riddell of Glen- 
 riddell. 
 
 That copy was revised and corrected by Burns him- 
 self, and is now preserved in the Library of the 
 Athenaeum Club, Liverpool. A verbatim transcript of 
 
 *Bib. Eg. 1660. Purchased at Mr. P. Cunningham's sale (Sotheby's), Feb. 
 1855, lot 145.
 
 330 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 it has been compared with the original in the British 
 Museum and found to correspond exactly. In the fol- 
 lowing text a complete and accurate reproduction of 
 this important document is placed before the reader, 
 and Dr. Currie's divergences from the original, as well 
 as his omissions, will be apparent to any one who 
 closely compares the version appearing in his edition 
 with this now submitted. 
 
 By aid of the valuable 4 ' Notes on his Name and 
 Family" privately printed by the late Dr. James 
 Burnes, Physician General of the Bombay Army, and 
 a descendant from the same ancestral stock as the 
 poet, we record some genealogical details which con- 
 tribute to throw light on the poet's family allusions 
 as well as to account for the strong Jacobitical bias 
 which shows itself occasionally in his earlier productions. 
 
 The family surname was originally pronounced in 
 two syllables, and was, in accordance with the irregu- 
 larity which then prevailed in the spelling of proper 
 names, sometimes written Burnes and sometimes Bur- 
 ness.* The immediate, as well as the more remote 
 ancestors of Burns were yeomen or small farmers in 
 the Mearns, with cherished family traditions of which 
 they were justly proud, and traces of them are still to 
 be found in Kincardineshire records reaching up to a 
 period two hundred years prior to the era of the Ayr- 
 shire bard. From Dr. Burnes' researches into these 
 records we glean the following facts regarding the 
 poet's more immediate ancestors. 
 
 * In earlier Scotch every vowel was sounded as a separate syllable, as is still 
 the case in German, so that the name was pronounced in the same way whether 
 written with a single j or with two. Most of the members of the family who 
 retain the old pronunciation now spell it with the double s, though some, as the 
 writer of the "Notes" above referred to, and the late Sir Alexander Burnes, the 
 distinguished Eastern traveller, continued to follow what was probably the origi- 
 nal spelling. As the poet, however, up to the time he changed the spelling of 
 his name to Burns, uniformly wrote it Burness, we deem it only respectful to 
 him to follow his own mode of spelling his own name, and to apply it to other 
 members of the family who have not put themselves on record as spelling it 
 Burnes. J. H.
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 331 
 
 The parents of our poet's paternal grandfather and 
 namesake, Robert Burness, were James Burness, tenant 
 of Bralinrnuir, in the parish of Glenbervie, who died 
 in 1743, aged 87, and Margaret Falconer, who died in 
 1749, aged 90. Robert, their second son,* was mar- 
 ried to Isabella Keith, of the family of Keith of Craig, 
 and rented the farm of Clochnahill, in the parish of 
 Dunotter. Of him is recorded the honorable fact that, 
 in conjunction with some of his neighbors, he built a 
 school-house on his farm the first erected in the dis- 
 trict and shared in the expense of hiring a teacher 
 to instruct the rising generation around. 
 
 ROBERT BURNESS AT CLOCHNAHILL, AND ISABELLA KEITH, HIS 
 SPOUSE, HAD ISSUE AS FOLLOWS: 
 
 1. James, born 1717. I Became a merchant and Town } Died in 1761. 
 
 C Councillor in Montrose . > 
 
 2. Robert, " 1719. { S me time a S ardener in j 1789. 
 
 I England > 
 
 3. WILLIAM, " 1721. FATHER OF THE POET ... " 1784. 
 
 f Married Andrew Walker, at 1 
 
 4. Margaret, 1723. { ^^ > } 
 
 5. Elspet, " 1725. /Married John Caird, in Den-1 
 
 I side / 
 
 f> Tea 1727 / Married J hn Burness, andl 
 
 O. JCdll, J./.4/. 1 ... ,.,,,. t 
 
 I died without issue . . . . > 
 
 7. George, " 1729. Died in early life 
 
 8. Isabel, " 1730. ( Married William Brand, al 
 
 I- dyer in Auchenblae . . . t 
 
 9. Mary, " 1732. Died unmarried 
 
 The second and third sons of this family, Robert 
 and William, were driven, through some misfortunes 
 that overtook the household of Clochnahill, apparently 
 in 1748, f to travel southward in quest of employment. 
 
 * This Robert Burness was, about A.D. 1700, one of five brothers of substantial 
 position in the Mearns, who could shew silver utensils at their tables, with other 
 indications of wealth unusual in that county. Dr. Burnes's Notes, 1851. 
 
 t A certificate (now possessed by Mr. Gilbert Burns. Dublin), dated gth May 
 1748, granted to William Burness by three landowners in Kincardineshire, testi- 
 fying that the bearer " is the son of an honest Fanner in this neighborhood, and 
 is a very well inclined lad himself;" and recommending him to any Nobleman
 
 332 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Robert made his way into England, and William found 
 work in Edinburgh and its vicinity for about two 
 years. The latter particularly mentioned in after days 
 to his children, that he had been employed at the 
 laying out of the Meadows on the south side of the 
 city ; and that work was executed chiefly in 1749. In 
 1750, he accepted a two years' engagement as gar- 
 dener to the Laird of Fairly in the parish of Dun- 
 donald, Ayrshire, from which he removed in 1752 to 
 the banks of the Doon, where he served for sometime 
 as gardener to Mr. Crawford of Doonside. Desiring to 
 settle in life, he took a perpetual lease of seven acres 
 of ground in the parish of Alloway, from Dr. Camp- 
 bell of Ayr, with the view of commencing on his own 
 account as a nurseryman and market-gardener. On 
 this land, close by the roadside leading southward to 
 the ruins of Alloway Kirk, he built with his own 
 hands a cot-house of two apartments, to which, in 
 December 1757, he brought home from Maybole as his 
 bride, Agnes Brown, the mother of our author, who 
 shall now himself take up the narrative at the point 
 where we stop. J. H. 
 
 TO DR. MOORE.* 
 
 SIR, For some time past I have been rambling over 
 the country, partly on account of some little business 
 I have to settle in various places ; but of late I have 
 been confined with some lingering complaints, origi- 
 
 or gentleman as a fit servant according to his capabilities, affords strong pre- 
 sumptive evidence that William Burness had not left his paternal roof prior to 
 that date. 
 
 * Dr. Moore was a medical man of good standing in London, and author of 
 several works of repute, some professional, others narratives of travels, works 
 of fiction, &c., of which his novel of Zeluco is best known. (See Burns' letter to 
 Dr. Moore, i4th July, 1790, and to Mrs. Dunlop, January 12, 1794). He was a warm- 
 hearted Scotchman (a native of Stirling) and was made acquainted with Burns 
 by Mrs. Dunlop, while he, in turn brought the bard under the notice of the Iirt 
 pf Eglinton. J- H.
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 333 
 
 nating, as I take it, in the stomach. To divert my 
 spirits a little in this miserable fog of ennui, I have 
 taken a whim to give you a history of myself. 
 
 My name has made a small noise in the country ; 
 you have done me the honor to interest yourself very 
 warmly in my behalf; and I think a faithful account 
 of what character of a man I am, and how I came by 
 that character, may perhaps amuse you in an idle 
 moment. I will give you an honest narrative, though 
 I know it will be at the expence of frequently being 
 laugh' d at ; for I assure you, Sir, I have, like Solomon, 
 whose character, except in the trifling affair of WISDOM, 
 I sometimes think I resemble, I have, I say, like 
 him "turned my eyes to behold madness and folly," 
 and like him, too frequently shaken hands with their 
 intoxicating friendship. In the very polite letter Miss 
 Williams did me the honor to write me, * she tells me 
 you have got a complaint in your eyes. I pray God 
 it may be removed ; for, considering that lady and you 
 are my common friends, you will probably employ her 
 to read this letter ; and then good-night to that esteem 
 with which she was pleased to honor the Scotch bard ! 
 
 After you have perused these pages, should you think 
 them trifling and impertinent, I only beg leave to tell 
 you, that the poor author wrote them under some very 
 twitching qualms of conscience, that, perhaps, he was 
 doing what he ought not to do ; a predicament he has 
 more than once been in before. 
 
 I have not the most distant pretense to what the 
 pyecoated guardians of Escutcheons call a Gentleman. 
 When at Edinburgh last winter, I got acquainted at 
 the Herald's Office ; and, looking thro' the granary of 
 honors, I there found almost every name in the king- 
 dom; but for me 
 
 "My ancient but ignoble blood, 
 Has crept thro' scoundrels since the flood." 
 
 * This lady, Helen Maria Williams, an authoress of some note in her day, will 
 be hereafter referred to.
 
 334 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Gules, purpure, argent, etc., quite disowned me. My 
 forefathers rented land of the famous, noble Keiths of 
 Marischal, and had the honor to share their fate.* I 
 do not use the word "honor" with any reference to 
 political principles : loyal and disloyal I take to be 
 merely relative terms in that ancient and formidable 
 court known in this country by the name of " club- 
 law. ' ' Those who dare welcome Ruin and shake hands 
 with Infamy, for what they believe sincerely to be the 
 cause of their God or their King, are as Mark An- 
 tony in Shakespear says of Brutus and Cassius "hon- 
 orable men." I mention this circumstance because it 
 threw my Father on the world at large ; where, after 
 many years' wanderings and sojournings, he picked up 
 a pretty large quantity of observation and experience, 
 to which I am indebted for most of my pretensions to 
 WISDOM. I have met with few who understood Men, 
 their manners and their ways, equal to him ; but stub- 
 born, ungainly Integrity, and headlong, ungovernable 
 Irascibility, are disqualifying circumstances ; conse- 
 quently, I was born a very poor man's son. 
 
 For the first six or seven years of my life, my 
 Father was gardener to a worthy gentleman of small 
 estate in the neighborhood of Ayr.f Had my Father 
 continued in that situation, I must have marched of? 
 to have been one of the little underlings about a farm- 
 house ; but it was his dearest wish and prayer to 
 have it in his power to keep his children under his 
 
 The famous Marshal Keith, whose statue adorns the city of Berlin, was of 
 this family, and was attainted along with his elder brother George, for partici- 
 pating in the rising of 1715. The family is now represented by the Earl of Kin- 
 tore. 
 
 In reference to this Gilbert Burns says : " I do not know how my brother 
 could be misled in the account he has given of the Jacobitism of his ancestors. 
 I believe the Earl Marischal forfeited his estate in 1715, before my father was 
 born, and among a bundle of parish certificates in his possession, I have found one, 
 stating that the bearer had no concern in the late wicked rebellion. " The state- 
 ments of the two brothers are quite reconcileable. Robert does not say it was 
 his father who shared the fate of the Earl Marischal, but his fore-fathers. J. H. 
 
 t William Fergusson, Esq. of Doonholm, then Provost of Ayr.
 
 jT. 28.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 335 
 
 own eye, till they could discern between good and 
 evil ; so, with the assistance of his generous Master, 
 he ventured on a small farm in that gentleman's 
 estate.* At these years, I was by no means a favor- 
 ite with anybody. I was a good deal noted for a re- 
 tentive memory, a stubborn, sturdy something in my 
 disposition, and an enthusiastic idiot-piety. I say 
 "idiot-piety," because I was then but a child. Though 
 I cost the schoolmaster some thrashings, I made an 
 excellent English scholar ; and against the years of 
 ten or eleven, I was absolutely a critic in substan- 
 tives, verbs, and particles. In my infant and boyish 
 days, too, I owed much to an old maid of my moth- 
 er's, f remarkable for her ignorance, credulity, and 
 superstition. She had, I suppose, the largest collec- 
 tion in the country, of tales and songs concerning 
 devils, ghosts, fairies, brownies, witches, warlocks, 
 spunkies, kelpies, elf-candles, dead-lights, wraiths, ap- 
 paritions, cantraips, enchanted towers, giants, dragons 
 and other trumpery. This cultivated the latent seeds 
 of Poesy ; but had so strong an effect on my imagina- 
 tion, that to this hour, in my nocturnal rambles, I 
 sometimes keep a sharp look-out in suspicious places ; 
 and though nobody can be more sceptical in these 
 matters than I yet it often takes an effort of philoso- 
 phy to shake off these idle terrors. The earliest thing 
 of composition that I recollect taking pleasure in, was 
 "The Vision of Mirza," and a hymn of Addison's, 
 beginning, ' ' How are thy servants blest, O Lord ! ' ' 
 I particularly remember one half-stanza which was 
 music to my boyish ears, - 
 
 " For though in dreadful whirls we hung 
 High on the broken wave ; " 
 
 * Mount Oliphant, some two miles from the poet's birthplace. 
 
 tThe " maid" was an old woman named Betty Davidson, widow of a cousin of 
 his mother's, who was maintained in the family and repaid their kindness by 
 doing all the good offices in her power. J. H.
 
 336 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 I met with these pieces in Mason's English Collection, 
 one of my school-books. The first two books I evel 
 read in private, and which gave me more pleasure 
 than any two books I ever read again, were "The 
 Life of Hannibal," and "The History of Sir Wil- 
 liam Wallace." * Hannibal gave my young ideas such 
 a turn, that I used to strut in raptures up and down 
 after the recruiting drum and bag-pipe, and wish my- 
 self tall enough that I might be a soldier ; while the 
 story of Wallace poured a Scottish prejudice in my 
 veins, which will boil along there till the flood-gates 
 of life shut in eternal rest. 
 
 Polemical Divinity about this time was putting the 
 country half-mad, and I, ambitious of shining on 
 Sundays, between sermons, in conversation parties, 
 at funerals, &c., in a few years more, used to puzzle 
 Calvinism with so much heat and indiscretion, that I 
 raised a hue and cry of heresy against me, which has 
 not ceased to this hour.f 
 
 My vicinity to Ayr was of great advantage to me. 
 My social disposition, when not checked by some 
 modification of spited pride, | like our Catechism's 
 definition of Infinitude was "without bounds or 
 limits." I formed many connexions with other 
 younkers who possessed superior advantages ; the 
 youngling actors who were busy with the rehearsal of 
 parts, in which they were shortly to appear on that 
 stage where, alas ! I was destined to drudge behind 
 the scenes. It is not commonly at these green years 
 that the young Noblesse and Gentry have a just sense 
 of the immense distance between them and their 
 
 * Borrowed respectively from Mr. Murdoch, his early teacher and the black- 
 smith who shod his father's horses. J. H. 
 
 fSee Two. Herds, Ordination, Epistles to Gavin Hamilton, &c., &c. J. 'H. 
 
 t The MS. reads " spited pride," and so it reads in Currie's first and second 
 editions. The epithet is changed to " spirited" in the third edition, which expres- 
 sion has been retained in all previous reprints of the letter save Peterson's. 
 "Spited pride "is a common Ayrshire expression for "hurt pride," and we re- 
 store it accordingly. J. H.
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 337 
 
 ragged play-fellows. It takes a few dashes into the 
 world, to give the young Great Man that proper, de- 
 cent, unnoticing disregard for the poor, insignificant, 
 stupid devils, the mechanics and peasantry around him, 
 who perhaps were born in the same Village. My young 
 superiors never insulted the clouterly appearance of 
 my plough-boy carcase, the two extremes of which 
 were often exposed to all the inclemencies of all the 
 seasons. They would give me stray volumes of books ; 
 among them, even then, I could pick up some obser- 
 vations, and one, whose heart I am sure not even the 
 "Munny Begum's" scenes have tainted, helped me 
 to a little French. Parting with these my young 
 friends and benefactors, as they dropped off for East 
 or West Indies, was often to me a sore affliction ; but 
 I was soon called to more serious evils. My Father's 
 generous Master died ; the farm proved a ruinous bar- 
 gain ; and to clench the curse, we fell into the hands 
 of a Factor, who sat for the picture I have drawn of 
 one in my tale of Two Dogs. My Father was ad- 
 vanced in life when he married ; * I was the eldest of 
 seven children, and he, worn out by early hardship, 
 was unfit for labor. My Father' s spirit was soon irri- 
 tated, but not easily broken. There was a freedom 
 in his lease in two years more, and to weather these, 
 we retrenched expenses. We lived very poorly : I was 
 a dexterous ploughman for my years, and the next 
 eldest to me was a brother, who could drive the plough 
 very well, and help me to thrash. A novel-writer 
 might perhaps have viewed these scenes with some 
 satisfaction, but so did not I ; my indignation yet 
 boils at [the recollection of] the threatening, insolent 
 epistles from the Scoundrel Tyrant, which used to set 
 us all in tears. 
 
 This kind of life the cheerless gloom of a hermit, 
 
 * He was 36 years of age. J. H. 
 
 V
 
 338 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 with the unceasing toil of a galley-slave brought me 
 to my sixteenth year ; a little before which period I 
 first committed the sin of rhyme. You know our 
 country custom of coupling a man and a woman to- 
 gether as partners in the labors of harvest. In my 
 fifteenth * autumn, my partner was a bewitching 
 creature who just counted an autumn less. My scarcity 
 of English denies me the power of doing her justice 
 in that language, but you know the Scotch idiom : 
 she was a "bonie, sweet, sonsie lass."f In short, 
 she, altogether unwittingly to herself, initiated me 
 into a certain delicious passion, which, in spite of 
 acid disappointment, gin-horse prudence, and book- 
 worm philosophy, I hold to be the first of human 
 joys, our chiefest pleasure here below. How she 
 caught the contagion I can't say ; you medical folks 
 talk much of infection by breathing the same air, the 
 touch, etc. ; but I never expressly told her that I loved 
 her. Indeed, I did not well know myself why I liked 
 so much to Ipiter behind with her, when returning in 
 the evening from our labors ; why the tones of her 
 voice made my heart-strings thrill like an ^olian 
 harp ; and particularly why my pulse beat such a 
 furious rantann, when I looked and fingered over 
 her hand to pick out the nettle-stings and thistles. 
 Among her other love-inspiring qualifications, she sung 
 sweetly ; and 'twas her favorite Scotch reel that I 
 attempted to give an embodied vehicle to in rhyme. 
 I was not so presumptive as to imagine that I could 
 make verses like printed ones, composed by men who 
 had Greek and Latin ; but my girl sung a song which 
 was said to be composed by a small country laird's 
 son, on one of his father's maids, with whom he was 
 
 * Gilbert Burns, in this and other episodes of the Mount Oliphant and early 
 Lochlea periods, advances the poet's age two years. J. H. 
 
 t Nelly Kirkpatrick by name, and according to Mrs. Begg, daughter of the 
 blacksmith who lent him one of the two first books he ever read " The I,ife ol 
 Wallace." She is the subject of his first song : " My Handsome Nell." J. H.
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 339 
 
 in love ; and I saw no reason why I might not rhyme 
 as well as he ; for, excepting smearing sheep, and cast- 
 ing peats (his father living in the moors), he had no 
 more scholar-craft than I had. Thus with me began 
 love and poesy ; which at times have been my only, 
 and till within this last twelve months, have been my 
 highest enjoyment. 
 
 My Father struggled on till he reached a freedom* 
 in his lease, when he entered on a larger farm, about 
 ten miles farther in the country.! The nature of the 
 bargain was such as to throw a little ready money in 
 his hand at the commencement, otherwise the affair 
 would have been impracticable. For four years we 
 lived comfortably here ; but a lawsuit between him 
 and his landlord commencing, after three years' toss- 
 ing and whirling in the vortex of litigation, my Fathei 
 was just saved from absorption in a jail, by a phthisi- 
 cal consumption, which, after two years' promises, 
 kindly stept in, and snatched him away to "where 
 the wicked cease from troubling, and where the weary 
 are at rest." 
 
 It is during this climacteric that my little story u 
 most eventful. I was, at the beginning of this period, 
 perhaps the most ungainly, awkward being in the 
 parish. No solitaire was less acquainted with the ways 
 of the world. My knowledge of ancient story was 
 gathered from Guthrie's and Salmon's Geographical 
 Grammar ; my knowledge of modern manners, and of 
 literature and criticism, I got from the Spectator. 
 These, with Pope's Works, some Plays of Shakspear, 
 Tull and Dickson on Agriculture, The Pantheon, 
 Locke's Essay on the Human Understanding, Stack- 
 house's History of the Bible, Justice's British Gardener, 
 Boyle Lectures, Allan Ramsay's Works, Doctor Tay- 
 
 Often called "a break" i. e., a period at which he had the option of :; 
 Bouncing the lease. J. H. 
 f I<ochlea near Tarbolton. J. H.
 
 840 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 lor's Scripture Doctrine of Original Sin, A Select 
 Collection of English Songs,* and Hervey's Medita- 
 tions, had been the extent of my reading. The col- 
 lection of songs was my vade mecum. I pored over 
 them, driving my cart, or walking to labor, song by 
 song, verse by verse ; carefully noting the tender or 
 sublime from affectation and fustian. I am convinced 
 I owe much to this for my critic-craft, such as it is. 
 
 In my seventeenth year, to give my manners a 
 brush, I went to a country dancing-school, f My Father 
 had an unaccountable antipathy against these meetings, 
 and my going was, what to this hour I repent, in 
 absolute defiance of his commands. My Father, as I 
 said before, was the sport of strong passions ; from that 
 instance of rebellion he took a kind of dislike to me, 
 which, I believe, was one cause of that dissipation 
 which marked my future years. | I say dissipation, 
 comparative with the strictness and sobriety of Pres- 
 byterian country life ; for though the Will-O'-Wisp 
 meteors of thoughtless whim were almost the sole 
 lights of my path, yet, early ingrained piety and vir- 
 tue never failed to point me out the line of innocence. 
 The great misfortune of my life was never to have an 
 aim. I had felt early some stirrings of ambition, but 
 
 * This select collection of Songs was published by Gordon of Edinburgh 1765, 
 and entitled "The I^rk." It consists of 324 pages and comprises some fine old 
 songs and ballads, but a good deal of inferior stuff as well. It was from this 
 source that the poet seems to have picked up such names as Chloris and Chloe, 
 these being the fashion of the time. J. H. 
 
 t According to most at Tarbolton, but if this is so, the poet must have been in 
 his nineteenth year. J. H. 
 
 J Burns here much exaggerates his father's aversion to him, and he was in no 
 sense a " dissipated " man till after the date of this letter. But the very exaggera- 
 tion proves with what avidity the poet's sensitive heart craved for a father's love. 
 Gilbert Burns says : I wonder how Robert could attribute that lasting resentment 
 of his going to a dancing-school against his will, of which he was incapable. I 
 believe the truth was that he, about this time began to see the dangerous im- 
 petuosity of my brother's passions, as well as his not being amenable to counsel, 
 which often irritated my father ; and which he would naturally think a dancing- 
 school was not likely to correct. But he was proud of Robert's genius, and he 
 was greatly delighted with his warmth of heart and his conversational powers. 
 J. H.
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 341 
 
 they were the blind gropings of Homer's Cyclops round 
 the walls of his cave. I saw my father's situation 
 entailed on me perpetual labor. The only two doors 
 by which I could enter the fields of fortune were 
 the most niggardly economy, or the little chicaning art 
 of bargain-making. The first is so contracted an aper- 
 ture, I never could squeeze myself into it : the last 
 I always hated the contamination of its threshold ! 
 Thus abandoned of view or aim in life, with a strong 
 appetite for sociability (as well from native hilarity as 
 from a pride of observation and remark), and a con- 
 stitutional hypochondriac taint which made me fly soli- 
 tude : add to all these incentives to social life my 
 reputation for bookish knowledge, a certain wild logi- 
 cal talent, and a strength of thought, something like 
 the rudiments of good sense, made me generally a 
 welcome guest. So 'tis no great wonder that always, 
 "where two or three were met together, there was I 
 in the midst of them." But far beyond all the other 
 impulses of my heart, was un penchant a r adorable 
 moitie du genre humain. My heart was completely 
 tinder, and was eternally lighted up by some Goddess 
 or other ; and, like every warfare in this world, I was 
 sometimes crowned with success, and sometimes mor- 
 tified with defeat. At the plough, scythe, or reaphook, 
 I feared no competitor, and set want at defiance ; and 
 as I never cared farther for any labors than while I 
 was in actual exercise, I spent the evening in the way 
 after my own heart. A country lad seldom carries on 
 an amour without an assisting confidant. I possessed 
 a curiosity, zeal, and intrepid dexterity in these mat- 
 ters which recommended me as a proper second in 
 duels of that kind ; and I dare say, I felt as much 
 pleasure at being in the secret of half the amours 
 in the parish, as ever did Premier at knowing the in- 
 trigues of half the courts of Europe. 
 
 The very goose-feather in my hand seems instinct-
 
 342 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 jvely to know the well-worn path of my imagination, 
 the favorite theme of my song ; and is with diffi- 
 culty restrained from giving you a couple of paragraphs 
 on the amours of my compeers, the humble inmates 
 of the farm-house and cottage : but the grave sons of 
 science, ambition, or avarice baptize these things by 
 the name of follies. To the sons and daughters of 
 labor and poverty they are matters of the most 
 serious nature : to them the ardent hope, the stolen 
 interview, the tender farewell, are the greatest and 
 most delicious part of their enjoyments. 
 
 Another circumstance in my life which made very 
 considerable alterations on my mind and manners was 
 I spent my seventeenth summer* a good distance 
 from home, at a noted school on a smuggling coast, 
 to learn mensuration, surveying, dialling, etc. in which 
 I made a pretty good progress, f But I made a greater 
 progress in the knowledge of mankind. The contra- 
 band trade was at this time very successful : scenes of 
 swaggering riot and roaring dissipation were as yet 
 new to me, and I was no enemy to social life. Here, 
 though I learnt to look unconcernedly on a large tav- 
 ern-bill, and mix without fear in a drunken squabble, 
 yet I went on with a high hand in my geometry, till 
 the sun entered Virgo, t a month which is always a 
 carnival in my bosom : a Charming Fillette, who lived 
 next door to the school, overset my trigonometry, and 
 sent me off in a tangent from the spheres of my stud- 
 ies. I struggled on with my sines and co-sines for a 
 few days more ; but stepping out to the garden one 
 
 *This is "nineteenth summer" in Currie's edition ; he has noted that the al- 
 teration was suggested by Gilbert Burns. 
 
 t The School was at Kirkoswald. He lived with Samuel Brown, a brother of his 
 toother's, who owned a cottage in a sweet locality by the roadside about a mile 
 from the village. It was here he became acquainted with the original charact- 
 ers subsequently immortalized in " Tarn O' Shanter." J. H. 
 
 JSun enters Virgo on 23d August. The charming Fillette was Peggy Thomson, 
 the subject of the beautiful "Song composed in August." J. H.
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 343 
 
 charming noon to take the sun's altitude, I met with 
 my angel 
 
 "Like Proserpine gathering flowers, 
 Herself a fairer flower ."* 
 
 It was in vain to think of doing any more good at 
 school. The remaining week I staid I did nothing 
 but craze the faculties of my soul about her, or steal 
 out to meet with her ; and the two last nights of my 
 stay in the country, had sleep been a mortal sin, I 
 was innocent. 
 
 I returned homef very considerably improved. My 
 reading was enlarged with the very important addition 
 of Thomson's and Shenstone's Works : I had seen 
 mankind in a new phasis ; and I engaged several of 
 my schoolfellows to keep up a literary correspondence 
 with me. I had met with a collection of letters by 
 the wits of Queen Anne's reign, and I pored over 
 them most devoutly. I kept copies of any of my own 
 letters that pleased me, and a comparison between 
 them and the composition of most of my correspond- 
 ents flattered my vanity. I carried this whim so far, 
 that though I had not three-farthings' worth of busi- 
 ness in the world, yet every post brought me as many 
 letters as if I had been a broad plodding son of day- 
 book and ledger. 
 
 My life flowed on much in the same tenor till my 
 twenty-third year. Vive P amour, et vive la bagatelle, 
 were my sole principles of action. The addition of 
 two more authors to my library gave me great pleas- 
 ure ; Sterne and Mackenzie "Tristram Shandy" and 
 the "Man of Feeling" were my bosom favorites. 
 
 Poesy was still a darling walk for my mind, but 
 'twas only the humor of the hour. I had usually half a 
 
 *" Paradise Lost," b. iv., 1. 268. The poet must have quoted from memory. 
 Like does not belong to Milton and should not have been included in the quota- 
 tion. J. H. 
 
 fTo L,ochlea probably. J. H.
 
 344 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 dozen or more pieces on hand ; I took up one or other 
 as it suited the momentary tone of the mind, and dis- 
 missed it as it bordered on fatigue. My passions, 
 when once they were lighted up, raged like so many 
 devils till they got vent in rhyme ; and then conning 
 over my verses, like a spell, soothed all into quiet ! 
 None of the rhymes of those days are in print, except 
 4 ' Winter, a dirge ' ' (the eldest of my printed pieces), 
 "The Death and dying words of poor Mailie," "John 
 Barleycorn," and Songs first, and second and third. 
 Song second was the ebullition of that passion which 
 ended the forementioned school-business. 
 
 My twenty-third year was to me an important aera. 
 Partly through whim, and partly that I wished to set 
 about doing something in life, I joined with a flax- 
 dresser in a neighboring country town,* to learn his 
 trade, and carry on the business of manufacturing and 
 retailing flax. This turned out a sadly unlucky affair. 
 My partner was a scoundrel of the first water, who 
 made money by the mystery of Thieving, and to finish 
 the whole, while we were giving a welcome carousal 
 to the New Year, our shop, by the drunken careless- 
 ness of my partner's wife, took fire and burned to 
 ashes, and I was left, like a true poet, not worth six- 
 pence. I was obliged to give up business ; the clouds 
 of misfortune were gathering thick round my Father's 
 head ; the darkest of which was he was visibly far 
 gone in a consumption. To crown all, a belle fille f 
 whom I adored, and who had pledged her soul to meet 
 me in the fields of matrimony, jilted me, with peculiar 
 circumstances of mortification. The finishing evil that 
 brought up the rear of this infernal file, was my 
 hypochondriac complaint being irritated to such a de- 
 gree, that for three months I was in a diseased state 
 of body and mind, scarcely to be envied by the hope- 
 
 Irvine, then the emporium of the flax-dressing trade. J. H. 
 
 t EUison Begbie, to whom he addressed the song, " On Cessnock Banks." J. H.
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 345 
 
 less wretches who have just got their sentence, " De- 
 part from me, ye cursed ! etc." 
 
 From this adventure I learned something of a Town 
 life ; but the principal thing which gave my mind a 
 turn was I formed a bosom friendship with a young 
 fellow, the first * created being I had ever seen, but 
 a hapless son of misfortune. He was the son of a 
 plain mechanic ; but a great man in the neighborhood 
 taking him under his patronage, gave him a genteel 
 education, with a view to bettering his situation in 
 life. The patron dying, and leaving my friend unpro- 
 vided for, just as he was ready to launch forth into 
 the world, the poor fellow, in despair, went to sea ; 
 where, after a variety of good and bad fortune, he was, 
 a little before I was acquainted with him, set a-shore by 
 an American privateer, on the wild coast of Connaught, 
 stript of everything. I cannot quit this poor fellow's 
 story without adding, that he is at this moment Captain 
 of a large West-Indiaman belonging to the Thames. 
 
 This gentleman's mind was fraught with courage, 
 independence, and magnanimity, and every noble, manly 
 virtue. I loved him ; I admired him to a degree of 
 enthusiasm, and I strove to imitate him. I in some 
 measure succeeded ; I had the pride before, but he 
 taught it to flow in proper channels. His knowledge 
 of the world was vastly superior to mine, and I was all 
 attention to learn. He was the only man I ever saw 
 who was a greater fool than myself when Woman was 
 the presiding star ; but he spoke of a certain fashion- 
 able failing with levity, which hitherto I had regarded 
 with horror. Here his friendship did me a mischief, 
 and the consequence was that soon after I resumed the 
 plough, I wrote the enclosed " Welcome, "f 
 
 * So in the MS. meaning most excellent, a favorite form of expression with 
 Burns. This was Mr. Richard Brown, who afterwards became one of the poet's 
 correspondents. 
 
 t Burns' sojourn in Irvine did him harm morally as well as financially, the 
 consequence of which was that immediately on his return to Lochlea he fejl
 
 346 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 My reading was only increased by two stray vol 
 times of Pamela, and one of Ferdinand Count Fathom, 
 which gave me some idea of novels. Rhyme, except 
 some religious pieces which are in print, I had given 
 up ; but meeting with Fergusson's Scotch Poems, I 
 strung anew my wildly-sounding, rustic lyre with em- 
 ulating vigor.* When my Father died, his all went 
 among the rapacious hell-hounds that growl in the 
 kennel of justice ; but we made a shift to scrape a 
 little money in the family amongst us, with which, 
 (to keep us together) my brother and I took a neigh- 
 boring farm. My brother wanted my hare-brained 
 imagination, as well as my social and amorous mad- 
 ness ; but in good sense, and every sober qualification, 
 he was far my superior, f 
 
 I entered on this farm with a full resolution "Come, 
 go to, I will be wise !" I read fanning books, I cal- 
 culated crops ; I attended markets ; and in short, in 
 spite of the devil, the world, and the flesh, I believe 
 I should have been a wise man ; but the first year, 
 from unfortunately buying in bad seed ; the second, 
 from a late harvest, we lost half of both our crops. 
 This overset all my wisdom, and I returned, "like 
 the dog to his vomit, and the sow that was washed, 
 to her wallowing in the mire." I now began to be 
 
 into his first "mistake." The "Welcome" he refers to is his "Welcome" to his 
 illegitimate daughter, his " dear-bought Bess." See p. 69. J. H. 
 
 * Burns studied Fergusson with absolute veneration, never dreaming that the 
 scholar was infinitely greater than the master. In Fergusson's works it is easy 
 to recognize the models of versification which he followed, and occasionally we 
 discover pieces he imitated. Burns' favorite stanza that namely he adopted in 
 pieces of such various character as "Holy Willie's Prayer," "Death and Dying 
 Words of Poor Mailie," "Verses to a Mouse " and "To a Mountain Daisy" is 
 very ancient in Scottish poetry. Fergusson found it in Ramsay Ramsay found 
 it in Hamilton of Gilbertfield, who took as his model Semple of Beltrees to whom 
 It was suggested by earlier rhymers. J. H. 
 
 t No one placed a higher value on the prosaic virtues of good sense and pru- 
 dence than our poet, and few had a larger endowment of them or more earnestly 
 inculcated their practice on others (See " Epistle To a Young Friend," p. 293) but 
 their admonitions were too often drowned in the "Siren Voice" of his emotional 
 impulses. For his estimate of his own character, see "A Bard's Epitaph," his 
 tetter to Miss Chalmers, 1793, &c v &c. J. H.
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 347 
 
 known in the neighborhood as a maker of rhymes. 
 The first of my poetic offspring that saw the light, 
 was a burlesque lamentation on a quarrel between two 
 Reverend Calvinists, both of them dramatis personce 
 in my ' ' Holy Fair. ' ' I had an idea myself that the 
 piece had some merits ; but, to prevent the worst, I 
 gave a copy of it to a friend who was very fond of 
 these things, and told him I could not guess who was 
 the author of it, but that I thought it pretty clever. 
 With a certain side of both clergy and laity, it met 
 with a roar of applause. "Holy Willie's Prayer" 
 next made its appearance, and alarmed the kirk-session 
 so much, that they held three several meetings to look 
 over their holy artillery, if any of it was pointed 
 against profane rhymers. Unluckily for me my idle 
 wanderings led me on another side, point-blank, with- 
 in reach of their heaviest metal. This is the unfortu- 
 nate story alluded to in my printed poem, "The La- 
 ment."* 'Twas a shocking affair, which I cannot yet 
 bear to recollect, and it had very nearly given me one 
 or two of the principal qualifications for a place among 
 those who have lost the chart, and mistaken the reck- 
 oning, of rationality. I gave up my part of the farm 
 to my brother ; as in truth it was only nominally 
 mine (for stock I had none to embark in it), and made 
 what little preparation was in my power for Jamaica. 
 Before leaving my native country, however, I resolved 
 to publish my poems. I weighed my productions as 
 impartially as in my power ; I thought they had merit ; 
 and 'twas a delicious idea that I should be called a 
 clever fellow, even tho' it should never reach my ears 
 a poor negro-driver or perhaps gone to the world 
 of spirits, a victim to that inhospitable clime. I can 
 truly say, that pauvre inconnu as I then was, I had 
 pretty nearly as high an idea of myself and my works 
 
 See page 279. "The Lament" bewails the unfortunate issue of his ainour 
 with Jean Armour. J. H.
 
 348 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 as I have at this moment. It was ever my opinion 
 that the great, unhappy mistakes and blunders, both 
 in a rational and religious point of view, of which we 
 see thousands daily guilty, are owing to their ignorance 
 or mistaken notions of themselves. To know myself, 
 had been all along my constant study. I weighed 
 myself, alone ; I balanced myself with others ; I 
 watched every means of information, how much ground 
 I occupied as a man and as a poet ; I studied assidu- 
 ously Nature's design, where she seemed to have in- 
 tended the various lights and shades in my character. 
 I was pretty sure my poems would meet with some 
 applause ; but at the worst, the roar of the Atlantic 
 would deafen the voice of Censure, and the novelty of 
 West Indian scenes would make me forget Neglect.* 
 I threw off six hundred copies, of which I had got 
 subscriptions for about three hundred and fifty. My 
 vanity was highly gratified by the reception I met 
 with from the public ; besides pocketing (all expenses 
 deducted), near twenty pounds. This last came very 
 seasonably, as I was about to indent myself, for want 
 of money to pay my freight. So soon as I was mas- 
 ter of nine guineas, the price of wafting me to the 
 Torrid Zone, I bespoke a passage in the very first Ship 
 that was to sail, for 
 
 " Hungry ruin had me in the wind." 
 
 I had for some time been skulking from covert to 
 covert, under all the terrors of a jail ; as some ill-ad- 
 vised, ungrateful people f had uncoupled the merciless 
 legal pack at my heels. I had taken the last farewell 
 of my few friends ; my chest was on the road to 
 
 * Compare Burns' justifiable self-confidence in himself as expressed here, with 
 Mi real modesty when comparing himself with his brother (see page 346). 
 He had already acquired a large measure of the much-desired gift of self-knowl- 
 edge of " seeing himself as others saw him." J. H. 
 
 f Jean Armour's parents. J. H.
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 349 
 
 Greenock ; I had composed a song, * ' The gloomy 
 night is gathering fast," which was to be the last 
 effort of my muse in Caledonia, when a letter from 
 Dr. Blacklock to a friend of mine * overthrew all my 
 schemes, by rousing my poetic ambition. The Doctor 
 belonged to a class of critics for whose applause I had 
 not even dared to hope. His idea, that I would meet 
 with every encouragement for a second edition, fired 
 me so much that away I posted for Edinburgh with- 
 out a single acquaintance in town, or a single letter 
 of recommendation in my pocket. The baneful star 
 that had so long presided in my Zenith, for once 
 made a revolution to the Nadir ; and the providential 
 care of a good God placed me under the patronage of 
 one of his noblest creatures, the Earl of Glencairn. 
 " Oubliez moi, grand Dieu, si jamais je /' oublie!" 
 
 I need relate no farther. At Edinburgh I was in a 
 new world ; I mingled among many classes of men, 
 but all of them new to me, and I was all attention to 
 4 ' catch the manners living as they rise. ' ' 
 
 You can now, Sir, form a pretty near guess of what 
 sort of a Wight he is, whom for some time you have 
 honored with your correspondence. That Whim and 
 Fancy, keen sensibility and riotous passions, may still 
 make him zig-zag in his future path of life, is very 
 probable ; but, come what will, I shall answer for 
 him the most determinate integrity and honor [shall 
 ever be his guiding-stars ;] f and though his evil star 
 should again blaze in his meridian with tenfold more 
 direful influence, he may reluctantly tax friendship 
 with pity, but no more. 
 
 My most respectful compliments to Miss Williams. 
 The very elegant and friendly letter she honored me 
 with a few days ago, I cannot answer at present, as 
 
 * The Rev. George L,awrie of Loudon. J. H. 
 
 t The words within brackets are not in the MS., but the sentence is incomplete 
 without them or some words of similar import. J. H.
 
 350 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 my presence is required at Edinburgh for a week oi 
 so, and I set off to-morrow. 
 
 I enclose you ' ' Holy Willie ' ' for the sake of giving 
 you a little further information of the affair than Mr. 
 Creech could do. An Elegy I composed the other day 
 on Sir James H. Blair, if time allow, I will transcribe. 
 The merit is just mediocre. 
 
 If you will oblige me so highly and do me so much 
 honor as now and then to drop me a line, please direct 
 to me at Mauchline, Ayrshire. With the most grate- 
 ful respect, I have the honor to be, Sir, your very 
 humble servant, 
 
 ROBT. BURNS. 
 
 MAUCHWNE, wd August, 1787. 
 
 Direct to me at Mauchline, Ayrshire. 
 
 EDINBURGH, z^rd September. 
 
 SIR, The foregoing letter was unluckily forgot 
 among other papers at Glasgow on my way to Edin- 
 burgh. Soon after I came to Edinburgh I went on a 
 tour through the Highlands, and did not recover the 
 letter till my return to town, which was the other day. 
 My ideas, picked up in my pilgrimage, and some 
 rhymes of my earlier years, I shall soon be at leisure 
 to give you at large so soon as I hear from you 
 whether you are in London. I am, again, Sir, yours 
 most gratefully, R. BURNS.* 
 
 The foregoing letter to Dr. Moore, which furnishes such a 
 masterly panoramic view of the writer's early life down to his 
 twenty-ninth year, although abundantly confirming our in- 
 
 * Foot-note by Dr. Currie, 1800. " There are various copies of this letter in the 
 author's handwriting ; and one of these, evidently corrected, is in the book in 
 which he copied several of his letters. This has been used for the press, with 
 ome omissions, and one slight alteration suggested by Gilbert Burns."
 
 NOTES TO AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 351 
 
 troductory statement that without such a self-portrayal our 
 knowledge of the poet must be incomplete, is yet too concise 
 to satisfy the thirst for every detail in the early career of a man 
 in whom the whole world feels a deep and growing interest. 
 We shall therefore, before presenting the reader with the ear- 
 liest known specimen of the author's prose composition, retrace 
 our steps, with a view of supplying some missing links in the 
 biographic chain of events, and of rendering the story of the 
 bard's earlier years as complete as possible. 
 
 AU,OWAY EARLY NURTURE JOHN MURDOCH. 
 
 The record of the poet's birth contained in the session books 
 of the conjoined parishes of Alloway and Ayr is as follows : 
 
 " Robert Burns, lawful son of William Burns in Alloway, and 
 Agnes Brown his spouse, was born in January 25th, 1759 : bap- 
 tised by Mr. William Dalrymple. Witnesses, John Tennant and 
 James Young."* 
 
 Dr. Currie narrates that the future poet was sent " In his sixth 
 year to a school at Alloway Miln, about a mile distant from the 
 cottage, taught by a person named Campbell ; but this teacher 
 being in a few months appointed master of the workhouse at 
 Ayr, William Burness, in conjunction with some other heads of 
 families, engaged John Murdoch in his stead." The latter was a 
 promising student, about eighteen years old, when in May 1765, 
 he was thus incidentally made instrumental in training the mind 
 of Scotland's national poet. The little house then selected for 
 use as a school still exists on the roadside, directly opposite the 
 cottage in which his celebrated pupil was born. ' ' In that cot- 
 tage," wrote Murdoch in 1799, " of which I myself was at times 
 an inhabitant, I really believe there dwelt a larger portion of con- 
 tent than in any palace in Europe. . . . My five employers under- 
 took to board me by turns, and to make up a certain salary at the 
 end of the year, provided my quarterly payments from the dif- 
 
 * The reader will observe that the family name is not here spelled as if pro- 
 nounced with two syllables, but is in the form into which the poet and his 
 brother Gilbert agreed to contract it in April 1786. The explanation is that in 
 Ayrshire the compressed mode had been established by familiar usage, while in 
 the North, the old spelling and pronunciation were retained. It is also interest- 
 ing to note that "John Tennant," one of the witnesses of the poet's baptism, 
 was an early Ayrshire friend of William Burness, afterwards known as "John 
 Tennant in Glenconnor," of which fact we shall afterwards adduce proof. The 
 Rev. William Dalrymple survived to know Burns as a distinguished poet and to 
 be himself a subject of panegyric in his verses.
 
 352 NOTES TO AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 ferent pupils did not amount to that sum." Murdoch conducted 
 this little school for nearly two years and a half ; but consider- 
 ably prior to the close of that engagement, William Burness had 
 removed with his family to Mount Oliphant, above two miles 
 south-eastward, a bleak upland farm of seventy acres, which he 
 leased from his kind employer and patron, Provost Ferguson. 
 
 MOUNT OLIPHANT PARENTAL TRAINING EARLY 
 HARDSHIPS. 
 
 The date of the lease, (the original of which is now possessed 
 by Mr. Gilbert Burns, of Dublin) is 1765 ; but the family did not 
 begin to reside on the farm till Whitsunday 1766. That removal 
 interrupted the progress of the poet's education under Murdoch, 
 who records that, in consequence of the distance, the boys could 
 not attend school regularly. Gilbert adds that " there being no 
 school near us, and our little services being useful on the farm, 
 my father undertook to teach us arithmetic in the winter even- 
 ings by candle-light ; and in this way my two elder sisters got 
 all the education they ever received." 
 
 Another kind of education, which was of much use to Burns in 
 afterlife, and to which he makes special reference in the Auto- 
 biography, was that received from his mother's relative, Betty 
 Davidson, who lived in family with them, and who assisted in 
 implanting in his infantile and boyish mind the latent seeds of 
 poetry. According to Mrs. Begg's remembrance, Betty endeav- 
 ored to requite the kindness of William Burns by her assiduity in 
 spinning, carding, and doing all kinds of good offices that were 
 in her power, and she was a great favorite with the children. 
 
 "Nothing," says Gilbert, "could be more retired than our 
 general manner of living at Mount Oliphant ; we rarely saw any- 
 body but the members of our own family. There were no boys of 
 our own age or near it in the neighborhood ; indeed my father 
 was for some time almost the only companion we had. He con- 
 versed familiarly on all subjects with us, as if we had been men, 
 and was at great pains, as we accompanied him in the labors of 
 the farm, to lead the conversation to such subjects, as might tend 
 to increase our knowledge, or confirm us in virtuous habits." The 
 devoted parent borrowed books for the instruction of his children, 
 and " Robert read all these with an avidity and industry scarcely 
 to be equalled ; and no book was so voluminous as to slacken 
 his industry, or so antiquated as to damp his researches." 
 
 During a summer quarter of 1772, according to Gilbert's narra*
 
 NOTES TO AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 353 
 
 tive, Robert and he were sent " week about " to the parish school 
 of Dalrymple, distant about three miles, to improve their hand- 
 writing. One of Robert's school exercises there eight lines of 
 verse on the value of Religion he retained throughout life and 
 loved to quote to serious correspondents. It was there also that 
 he formed the acquaintanceship of James Candlish, who after- 
 wards married the wittiest of the " Mauchline Belles," became a 
 distinguished lecturer on Medicine in Edinburgh, and the father 
 of a still more distinguished son the late Principal Candlish 
 of the Free Church College, Edinburgh. 
 
 Meanwhile, in this same year (1772), the poet's early tutor, John 
 Murdoch, was appointed to succeed David Tennant as teacher of 
 the English School at Ayr. " This was," wrote Gilbert, "a cir- 
 cumstance of considerable importance to us ; the remembrance of 
 my father's former friendship, and his attachment to my brother, 
 made him do everything in his power for our improvement." 
 In particular, Robert went to Ayr a little before the harvest 
 season of 1773, and lodged with Murdoch during a few weeks, for 
 the purpose of revising English Grammar, &c., " that he might 
 be the better qualified to instruct his brothers and sisters at 
 home." A week's study sufficed to make him master of the 
 parts of speech, and the remaining portion of that visit was 
 spent in acquiring a pretty general knowledge of the French 
 language. This worthy schoolmaster, who had so materially con- 
 tributed towards the proper cultivation of his distinguished pupil's 
 mind, thus modestly concludes his description of the manly quali- 
 ties and Christian virtues of William Burness : " Although I 
 cannot do justice to the character of this worthy man, yet you 
 will perceive from these few particulars what kind of person had 
 the principal part in the education of the Poet. He spoke the Eng- 
 lish language with more propriety, both with respect to diction 
 and pronunciation, than any man I ever knew, with no greater 
 advantages : this had a very good effect on the boys, who began 
 to talk and reason like men much sooner than their neighbors." 
 
 It must have been about this period that the venerated parent 
 compiled for the use of his children a little manual of religious 
 belief in the form of a dialogue between a father and his son. 
 That document, carefully transcribed in the hand- writing of John 
 Murdoch, is now in the possession of Mr. Gilbert Burns of 
 Dublin,* who also is custodier of the "big Ha'-Bible " which 
 belonged to William Burness, containing on one of its fly leaves 
 the following Family Register entered by his own hand : 
 
 This interesting relic was first printed at Kilmarnock, 1875, and we here give 
 8a accurate reprint of it. Notwithstanding Mr. Murdock's high testimony to the 
 
 w
 
 354 NOTES TO AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 "William Burness was born, nth November 1721. 
 Agnes Brown was born, lyth March 1732. Married together, 
 
 I5th December 1757. 
 Had a son Robert, 25th January 1759. 
 Had a son Gilbert, 28th September 1760. 
 Had a daughter Agnes, 3oth September 1762. 
 Had a daughter Annabella, I4th November 1764. 
 
 character and attainments of William Burness, no one who reads the two letters 
 following this " Dialogue" will be inclined to believe that the latter is the worthy 
 man's unaided production. Murdoch, we know, transcribed the copy given him 
 by Mr. Burness and made the necessary grammatical corrections on it. It is 
 almost certain he did more for it than this, for it is scarcely credible that the 
 writer of the meagre letter to James Burness, Montrose, could, without assistance, 
 produce such a coherent and logical compendium as this manual. Murdoch was 
 a resident in the family at the date of its compilation, and there can be little 
 doubt he helped his friend to put his ideas into shape. Whether these ideas 
 were original or borrowed, more or less, from some other manual of the same 
 kind, or whether they were developed and formulated in the course of conversa- 
 tions and discussions with Murdoch, it is now impossible to say. 
 
 One thing is clear William Burness was not satisfied with the rigid Calvinism 
 inculcated in "The Shorter Catechism of the Westminster Assembly of Divines." 
 This compendium of sound doctrine was taught to every Presbyterian child 
 attending school in Scotland, and, when parents did not object, to non-presbyte- 
 rian youngsters as well. Besides, every decent head of a house examined 
 ("tairged") his children, and household generally, on the Westminster Cate- 
 chism ("carritch") each Sunday evening. That Burns' father was in the habit 
 of doing so we learn from the poet's " Letter to Gavin Hamilton" (Vol. i. p. 285). 
 Evidently this manual whether compiled by William Burness himself or simply 
 in accordance with his wishes and suggestions was prepared with the view of 
 mitigating to his children the rigid Calvinism of the orthodox Catechism, and 
 after reading it we can the more easily understand how Robert should have from 
 the first, showed a leaning towards the "New Light. " J. H. 
 
 A MANUAL OF RELIGIOUS BELIEF, IN FORM OF A DIALOGUE BETWEEN 
 FATHER AND SON. 
 
 Compiled by Wm. Burness, farmer at Mount Oliphant, Ayrshire, and tran- 
 scribed, with grammatical corrections, by John Murdoch, Teacher. 
 
 Son. Dear Father, you have often told me, while you were initiating me into 
 the Christian Religion, that you stood bound for me, to give me a Christian edu- 
 cation, and recommended a religious life to me. I would therefore, if you please, 
 ask you a few questions that may tend to confirm my faith, and clear its evi- 
 dence to me. 
 
 Father. My Dear Child, with gladness I will resolve to you (so far as I am 
 able), any question you shall ask, only with this caution, that you will believe 
 my answers, if they are founded in the Word of God. 
 
 Question. How shall I evidence to myself that there is a God? 
 
 Answer. By the works of creation : for nothing can make itself; and this fabric 
 of Nature demonstrates its Creator to be possessed of all possible perfection, and 
 for that cause we owe all that we have to Him. 
 
 Question. If God be possessed of all possible perfection, ought not we then to 
 love Him as well as fear Him? 
 
 Answer. Yes; we ought to serve Him out of love, for His perfections give us 
 delightful prospects of His favor and friendship, for if we serve Him out of love,
 
 NOTES TO AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 365 
 
 Had a son William, 3oth July 1767. 
 
 Had a son John, loth July 1769. 
 
 Had a daughter Isbal, 27th June 1771." 
 
 At the Martinmas following the birth of Isabella, the young. 
 est child of the family, the first break in the lease of Mount 
 
 We will endeavor to be like Him, and God will love His own image, and if God 
 love us, He will rejoice over us and do us good. 
 
 Question. Then one would think this were sufficient to determine all men to 
 love God ; but how shall we account for so much wickedness in the world ? 
 
 Answer. God's Revealed Word teaches us that our first parents brake His 
 Covenant, and deprived us of the influences of His Grace that were to be expected 
 in that state, and introduced Sin into the world ; and the Devil, that great enemy 
 of God and man, laying hold on this instrument, his kingdom has made great 
 progress in the world. 
 
 Question. But has God left His own rational offspring thus, to the tyranny ^f 
 His and their enemy ? 
 
 Answer. No : for God hath addressed His rational creatures, by telling them in 
 His Revealed Word, that the seed of the woman should bruise the head of the 
 Serpent, or Devil, or in time destroy his kingdom ; and in the meantime, every 
 one oppressed with the tyranny of the Devil, should, through the promised seed, 
 by faith in Him, and humble supplication, and a strenuous use of their own 
 faculties, receive such measures of Grace, in and through the method of God's 
 conveyance, as should make them able to overcome. 
 
 Question. But by what shall I know that this is a revelation of God, and not a 
 cunningly devised fable ? 
 
 Answer. A revelation of God must have these four marks, i. It must br 
 worthy of God to reveal ; 2. It must answer all the necessities of human nature . 
 3. It must be sufficiently attested by miracles ; and 4. It is known by prophecies 
 and their fulfilment. That it is worthy of God is plain, by its addressing itself to 
 the reason of men, and plainly laying before them the dangers to which they are 
 liable, with motives and arguments to persuade them to their duty, and promis- 
 ing such rewards as are fitted to promote the happiness of a rational soul. 
 Secondly, it provides for the guilt of human nature, making an atonement by 
 a Mediator ; and for its weakness by promising the assistance of God's Spirit ; 
 and for its happiness, by promising a composure of mind, by the regulation of its 
 faculties, and reducing the appetites and passions of the body unto the subjec- 
 tion of reason enlightened by the Word of God, and by a resurrection of the body, 
 and a glorification of both soul and body in heaven, and that to last through all 
 eternity. Thirdly, as a miracle is a contradiction of known laws of Nature, 
 demonstrating that the worker has the power of Nature in his hands, and con- 
 sequently must be God, or sent by His commission and authority from Him, to 
 do such and such things. That this is the case in our Scriptures is evident both 
 by the prophets, under the Old, and our Saviour under the New Testament. 
 Whenever it served for the glory of God, or for the confirmation of their com- 
 missions, all Nature was obedient to them ; the elements were at their command, 
 also the sun and moon, yea, Life and Death. Fourthly, that prophecies were 
 fulfilled at the distance of many hundreds of years is evident by comparing the 
 following texts of Scripture : Gen. xlix. 10, n ; Matt. xxi. 5 ; Isa. vii. 14; Matt. i. 
 22, 23 ; Luke i. 34; Isa. xl. i ; Matt. iii. 3 ; Mark i. 3 ; Luke iii. 4 ; John i. 23 ; Isa. 
 xlii. i, 2, 3, 4. A description of the character of Messiah in the Old Testament 
 Scriptures is fulfilled in all the Evangelists. In Isa. 1. 5, His sufferings are pro- 
 phesied, and exactly fulfilled in the New Testament, Matt. xxvi. 67, and xxvii. 26; 
 and many others, as that Abraham's seed should be strangers in a strange laud.
 
 556 NOTES TO AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Oliphant occurred. Gilbert has recorded that by a stipulation in 
 the lease, his father had a right to throw it up, if he thought 
 proper, at the end of every sixth year. He attempted to fix him- 
 self in a better farm at the end of the first six years, but failing 
 in that attempt, he continued where he v/as for six years more. 
 Burns himself, immediately after referring to his three weeks' 
 
 four hundred years, and being brought to Canaan, and its accomplishment in the 
 days of Joseph, Moses, and Joshua. 
 
 Question. Seeing the Scriptures are proven to be a revelation of God to Hi? 
 creatures, am I not indispensably bound to believe and obey them ? 
 
 Answer. Yes. 
 
 Question. Am I equally bound to obey all the laws delivered to Moses upon 
 Mount Sinai ? 
 
 Answer. No : the laws delivered to Moses are of three kinds : first, the Moral 
 Law, which is of eternal and indispensable obligation on all ages and nations ; 
 Secondly, the law of Sacrifices and ordinances were only Ordinances in which 
 were couched types and shadows of things to come, and when that dispensation 
 was at an end, this law ended with them, for Christ is the end of the law for 
 righteousness ; Thirdly, laws that respected the Jewish commonwealth can neither 
 be binding on us, who are not of that commonwealth, nor on the Jews, because 
 their commonwealth is at an end. 
 
 Question. If the Moral Law be of indispensable obligation, I become bound to 
 perfect and perpetual obedience, of which I am incapable, and on that account 
 cannot hope to be justified and accepted with God. 
 
 Answer. The Moral Law as a rule of life, must be of indispensable obligation, 
 but it is the glory of the Christian religion, that if we be upright in our endeavors 
 to follow it and sincere in our repentance, upon our failing or shortening, we 
 shall be accepted according to what we have, and shall increase in our strength, 
 by the assistance of the Spirit of God co-operating with our honest endeavors. 
 
 Question. Seeing the assistance of the Spirit of God is absolutely necessary for 
 salvation, hath not God clearly revealed by what means we may obtain this great 
 blessing ? 
 
 Answer. Yes : the Scriptures tell us that the Spirit of God is the purchase of 
 Christ's mediatorial office ; and through faith in Him, and our humble prayers 
 to God through Christ, we shall receive such measures thereof as shall answer 
 our wants. 
 
 Question. What do you understand by Faith ? 
 
 Answer. Faith is a firm persuasion of the Divine mission of our Lord Jesus 
 Christ, and that He is made unto us of God, wisdom, righteousness, and complete 
 redemption ; or as He is represented to us under the notion of a root, and we the 
 branches, deriving all from Him ; or as the head, and we the members of His 
 body ; intimating to us that this is the way or channel through which God con- 
 veys His blessings to us, and we are not to expect them but in God's own way. It is 
 therefore a matter of consequence to us, and therefore we ought with diligence to 
 search the Scriptures, had the extent of His commission, or what they declare Him 
 to be, and to receive Him accordingly, and to acquiesce in God's plan of salva- 
 tion. 
 
 Question. By what shall I know that Jesus Christ is really the person that was 
 prophesied of in the Old Testament ; or that He was that seed of the woman 
 that was to destroy the kingdom of Sin ? 
 
 Answer. Besides the Scriptures fore-cited, which fully prove Him to be that 
 blessed person, Christ did many miracles : He healed the sick, gave sight to the 
 blind, made the lame to walk, raised the dead, and fed thousands with a few 
 loaves, &c. He foretold His own death and resurrection, and the wonderful pro
 
 NOTES TO AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 357 
 
 abode with Murdoch in 1772, at the Ayr Grammar School, and his 
 distress at parting with some of his fellow-pupils of superior rank 
 in life, as they occasionally went off for the East or West Indies, 
 adds " But I was soon called to more serious evils ; my father's 
 generous master died ; the farm proved a ruinous bargain ; and, to 
 clench the curse, we fell into the hands of a factor," &c. Gilbert 
 
 jjress of His religion, in spite of all the power of the Roman Empire and that, 
 by means of His disciples, a few poor illiterate fishermen. 
 
 Question. You speak of repentance as absolutely necessary to salvation I would 
 like to know what you mean by repentance? 
 
 Answer. I not only mean a sorrowing for sin, but a laboring to see the malig- 
 nant nature of it ; as setting nature at variance with herself, by placing the ani- 
 mal part before the rational, and thereby putting ourselves on a level with the 
 brute beasts, the consequence of which will be an intestine war in the human 
 frame, until the rational part be entirely weakened, which is Spiritual Death, and 
 which in the nature of the thing renders us unfit for the society of God's spirit- 
 ual kingdom, and to see the beauty of holiness. On the contrary, setting the 
 rational part above the animal, though it promote a war in the human frame, 
 every conflict and victory affords us grateful reflection, and tends to compose the 
 mind more and more, not to the utter destruction of the animal part, but to the 
 real and true enjoyment of both, by placing Nature in the order that its Creator 
 designed it, which, in the natural consequences of the thing, promotes Spiritual 
 Life, and renders us more and more fit for Christ's spiritual kingdom ; and not 
 only so, but gives to animal life pleasure and joy that we never could have had 
 without it. 
 
 Question. I should be glad to hear you at large upon religion, giving pleasure 
 to animal life ; for it is represented as taking up our cross and following 
 " Christ." 
 
 Answer. Our Lord honestly told His disciples of their danger, and what they 
 were to expect by being His followers, that the world would hate them, and for 
 this reason, because they were not of the world, even as He also was not of the 
 world ; but He gives them sufficient comfort, showing that He had overcome the 
 world : as if He had said, " you must arm yourself with a resolution to fight, for 
 if you be resolved to be My disciples, you expose the world, by setting their folly 
 in its true light, and therefore every one who is not brought over by your exam- 
 ple, will hate and oppose you as it hath Me ; but as it hath had no advantage 
 against Me, and I have overcome it, if you continue the conflict, you, by My 
 strength, shall overcome likewise ; " so that this declaration of our Lord cannot 
 damp the pleasures of life when rightly considered, but rather enlarges them. 
 The same revelation tells us, that a religious life hath the promise of the life that 
 now is, and that which is to come ; and not only by the well regulated mind de- 
 scribed in my last answer, as tending to give pleasure and quiet, but by a firm 
 trust in the providence of God, and by the help of an honest calling industriously 
 pursued, we shall receive such a portion of the comfortable things of this life as 
 shall be fittest for promoting our eternal interest, and that under the direction 
 of infinite wisdom and goodness ; and that we shall overcome all our difficulties 
 by being under the protection of infinite power. These considerations cannfl 
 fail to give a relish to all the pleasures of life. Besides the very nature of the 
 thing giving pleasure to a mind so regular as I have already described, it must 
 exalt the mind above those irregular passions that jar and are contrary one to 
 another, and distract the mind by contrary pursuits, which is described by the 
 Apostle with more strength in his Epistle to the Romans (Chap, i., from 26 to the 
 end) than any words I am capable of framing ; especially if we take our Lord's 
 explanation of the parable of the tares in the field as an improvement of theK
 
 358 NOTES TO AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 also, in his narrative says "My father in consequence Of the 
 wretched soil, soon came into difficulties, which were increased by 
 the loss of several of his cattle by accidents and disease. To the 
 buffetings of misfortune we could only oppose hard labor and the 
 most rigid economy. My brother, at the age of thirteen, assisted 
 in threshing the crop of corn, and at fifteen was the principal 
 
 doctrines, as it is in Matt, xiii., from the 37 to 44 verse ; and Rev. xx., from verse 
 ii to the end. If these Scriptures, seriously considered, can suffer any man to be 
 easy, judge ye, and they will remain truth, whether believed or not. Whereas, 
 on a mind regular, and having 1 the animal part under subjection to the rational, 
 in the very nature of the thing gives uniformity of pursuits. The desires, rectified 
 by the Word of God, must give clearness of judgment, soundness of mind, regu- 
 lar affections, whence will flow peace of conscience, good hope, through grace, 
 that all our interests are under the care of our Heavenly Father. This gives a 
 relish to animal life itself, this joy that no man intermeddleth with, and which 
 is peculiar to a Christian or holy life ; and its comforts and blessings the whole 
 Scripture is a comment upon, especially our ford's sermon upon the Mount, 
 Matt, v., i 13, and its progress in the parable of the Sower in the thirteenth of 
 Matthew. 
 
 Copies of existing letters penned by William Burness, father of the Poet. 
 
 To MR. THOMAS OARE, AT PARK, NEAR KIRKOSWALD. 
 
 (From fac-simile in " Manual," 1873.) 
 
 Thomas,* Wee propose to begin to shear wheat on monday come eight days, 
 being 18 of September, and wee expect [you] here on Saturday, because wee will 
 begin on monday morning. I am, yours, &c., 
 
 WILLIAM BURNESS. 
 
 Locklta, 8 Sept. 1780. 
 
 To MR. JAMES BURNESS, MONTROSE.! 
 (Douglas, 1877.) 
 
 Dear Nephew, I received your affectionate letter by the bearer, who came 5 
 miles with it to my house. I received [it] with the same warmth you wrott it, 
 nd I am extremely glad you express yourself with so warm regard for your 
 parents and friends. I wish much Joy in your wife and child.J I should have 
 been glad had you sent me their names, with the name of your brother-in-law. 
 
 I have a family of four sons and three doutbers : two of my sons and two of 
 my douthers are men and women, and all with me in the farm way : I have the 
 happiness to hope they are virtuously inclined ; my youngest douther is ten years 
 
 * See the Poet's letter to this individual, at page 380. 
 
 t The holograph of this letter is in the Poet's monument at Edinburgh. The 
 reader will observe the peculiar spelling of the word "daughter" which occurs 
 five times in this letter : the first of these is exactly as in our print ; but the four 
 that follow bear marks of clumsy erasure, and a blotted attempt at correction 
 into proper spelling. This would likely be done by Gilbert or one of his sisters 
 in a revisal before despatching the document 
 
 J The reference here is to the birth of James Burness, afterwards provost of 
 Montrose Born April ist. 1780, Died February isth. 1852. The correspondent 
 addressed in the above letter was born in 1750 and died in 1837. His wife was 
 A.nne Greig, whom he married in 1777.
 
 NOTES TO AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 359 
 
 laborer on the farm, for we had no hired servant, male or female. 
 The anguish of mind we felt at our tender years, under the straits 
 and difficulties, was very great. I doubt not but the hard labor 
 and sorrow of this period of his life was in a great measure the 
 cause of that depression of spirits with which Robert was so 
 often afflicted through his whole life afterwards." 
 
 The author's poetical productions of his juvenile years, from 
 1773 to 1777, will be found in this Volume, pp. i to n. 
 
 REMOVAL TO COCHLEA IN TARBOI/TON PARISH. 
 
 The lease of this farm extended from Whitsunday 1777 to Whit- 
 sunday 1784. "For four years we lived comfortably here," the 
 poet writes, "but a lawsuit commencing," &c. Gilbert, in his 
 narrative, thus remarks : ' ' These seven years were not marked 
 by much literary improvement ; but during this time, the founda- 
 tion was laid of certain habits in my brother's character which 
 afterwards became but too prominent, and which malice and envy 
 have taken delight to enlarge on. Though, when young, he was 
 bashful and awkward in his intercourse with women, yet when he 
 approached manhood, his attachment to their society became very 
 strong, and he was constantly the victim of some fair enslaver. 
 As these connections were governed by the strictest rules of virtue 
 and modesty (from which he never deviated till he reached his 
 23rd year), he became anxious to be in a situation to marry. This 
 was not likely to be the case while he remained a farmer, as the 
 stocking of a farm required a sum of money he had no probability 
 of being master of for a great while ; he began therefore to think 
 of trying some other line of life." 
 
 The foregoing biographical notes bring the reader down to the 
 year 1780, at which date the author's correspondence begins. Dr. 
 Currie's first edition includes four letters addressed to " My dear 
 E.," which we are now to present. They were not printed from 
 the original, but from scroll copies found among the poet's manu- 
 scripts. We begin the correspondence with what appears to be 
 the very earliest example extant of Burns's letter-writing. The 
 holograph original is in the possession of John Adam, Esqr., 
 
 of age : my eldest son is named Robert ; the second Gilbert ; the third William ; 
 the fourth John ; my eldest douther is named Agues ; the second Anna Beta ; the 
 third Isbal. 
 
 My Brother lives at Stewarton, by Kilmarnock ; he hath two sons and one 
 douther, named John, William, and Fanny ; their circumstances are very indifferent. 
 
 I shall be happy to hear from you when it is convenient, when I shall writt 
 to you from time to time. Please give my respects to your Brother and Sister 
 in the kindest manner, and to your Wife, which will greatly oblige your affec- 
 tionate Uncle, 
 < Lochlea, 14 April 1781. WILLIAM BURNBSS.
 
 360 CORRESPONDENCE. [1780. 
 
 Greenock, Scotland. It forms number one of the series of letters 
 to E. B., of date 1780-81. 
 
 Lockhart makes the remark concerning these early love letters 
 " They are omitted in the ' General Correspondence ' of Gilbert's 
 edition, for what reason I know not, for they are surely as well 
 worth preserving as many in the collection, particularly when 
 their early date is considered. In such excellent English did 
 Burns woo his country maidens in at most his twenty-second 
 year." Robert Chambers says: "The earliest specimens of 
 Burns's prose composition which we possess are a series of letters 
 to Ellison Begbie, most of them probably written in the winter of 
 1780-81 slightly pedantic in manner, as might be expected of a 
 young genius still walking by the light of " A Vade-mecum of 
 Epistolary Correspondence," and striving to educate his mind in 
 a debating club, yet wonderful as emanating from a youth in such 
 a situation, and as addressed to a rustic serving girl." 
 
 TO ELLISON, OR ALISON BEGBIE. (?) * 
 
 (DOUGLASS, 1877.) 
 
 WHAT you may think of this letter, when you see 
 the name that subscribes it, I cannot know ; and per- 
 haps I ought to make a long preface of apologies for 
 the freedom I am going to take ; but as my heart 
 means no offence, but on the contrary is rather too 
 warmly interested in your favor ; for that reason, I hope 
 you will forgive me when I tell you that I most sin- 
 cerely and affectionately love you. I am a stranger in 
 
 these matters, A , as I assure you that you are the 
 
 first woman to whom I ever made such a declaration ; 
 so I declare I am at a loss how to proceed. 
 
 I have more than once come into your company with 
 a resolution to say what I have just now told you ; 
 but my resolution always failed me, and even now, my 
 heart trembles for the consequence of what I have said. 
 
 I hope my dear A you will not despise me because 
 
 I am ignorant of the nattering arts of courtship : I 
 hope my experience of the world will plead for me. 
 
 *Sec poems vol. i, page 20 to 26.
 
 J&C. 22.] EARLY LOVE LETTERS. 361 
 
 I can only say I sincerely love you, and there is 
 nothing on earth I so ardently wish for, or could pos- 
 sibly give me so much happiness, as one day to see 
 you mine. 
 
 I think you cannot doubt my sincerity, as I am 
 sure that whenever I see you, my very looks betray 
 me : and when once you are convinced I am sincere, 
 I am perfectly certain you have too much goodness 
 and humanity to allow an honest man to languish in 
 suspense, only because he loves you too well. And, 
 I am certain that in such a state of anxiety, as I 
 myself at present feel, an absolute denial would be 
 a much preferable state. 
 
 TO ELLISON, OR ALISON BEGBIE. 
 
 (CURRIE, l8oo.) 
 
 [LOCHLEA, 1780.] 
 
 MY DEAR E., I do not remember, in the course of 
 your acquaintance and mine, ever to have heard your 
 opinion on the ordinary way of falling in love, amongst 
 people of our station of life : I do not mean the per- 
 sons who proceed in the way of bargain, but those 
 whose affection is really placed on the person. 
 
 Though I be, as you know very well, but a very 
 awkward lover myself, yet as I have some opportuni- 
 ties of observing the conduct of others who are much 
 better skilled in the affair of courtship than I am, I 
 often think it is owing to lucky chance more than to 
 good management, that there are not more unhappy 
 marriages than usually are. 
 
 It is natural for a young fellow to like the acquaint- 
 ance of the females, and customary for him to keep 
 their company when occasion serves : some one of them 
 is more agreeable to him than the rest ; there 
 is something he knows not what pleases him he
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. [1780. 
 
 knows not how in her company. This I take to be 
 what is called Love with the greatest part of us, and 
 I must own, my dear B., it is a hard game such a 
 one as you have to play, when you meet with such a 
 lover. You cannot admit but he is sincere, and yet, 
 though you use him ever so favorably, perhaps in a 
 few months, or at farthest a year or two, the same 
 unaccountable fancy may make him as distractedly 
 fond of another, whilst you are quite forgot. I am 
 aware that perhaps the next time I have the pleasure 
 of seeing you, you may bid me take my own lesson 
 home, and tell me that the passion I have professed 
 for you is perhaps one of those transient flashes I have 
 been describing ; but I hope, my dear E. , you will 
 do me the justice to believe me, when I assure you, 
 that the love I have for you is founded on the sacred 
 principles of Virtue and Honor ; and by consequence, 
 so long as you continue possessed of those amiable 
 qualities which first inspired my passion for you, so 
 long must I continue to love you. Believe me, my 
 Dear, it is love like this alone which can render the 
 married state happy. People may talk of flames and 
 raptures as long as they please ; and a warm fancy, 
 with a flow of youthful spirits, may make them feel 
 something like what they describe ; but sure I am, 
 the nobler faculties of the mind, with kindred feelings 
 of the heart, can only be the foundation of friendship ; 
 and it has always been my opinion, that the married 
 life is only Friendship in a more exalted degree. 
 
 If you will be so good as to grant my wishes, and 
 it should please Providence to .spare us to the latest 
 periods of life, I can look forward and see, that even 
 then, though bent down with wrinkled age ; even then, 
 when all other worldly circumstances will be indiffer- 
 ent to me, I will regard my E., with the tenderest 
 affection ; and for this plain reason, because she is 
 still possessed of those noble qualities, improved to a
 
 JJT. 22. J EARLY LOVE LETTERS. 363 
 
 much higher degree, which first inspired my affection 
 for her. 
 
 " O happy state, when souls each other draw, 
 Where love is liberty, and nature law." 
 
 I know, were I to speak in such a style to many a 
 girl who thinks herself possessed of no small share of 
 sense, she would think it ridiculous ; but the language 
 of the heart is my dear E, the only courtship I shall 
 ever use to you. 
 
 When I look over what I have written, I am sensible 
 it is vastly different from the ordinary style of court- 
 ship ; but I shall make no apology. I know your good 
 nature will excuse what your good sense may see amiss. 
 
 TO ELLISON, OR ALISON BEGBIE. 
 
 (CURRIE, l8dO.) 
 
 , 1780.] 
 
 I VERILY believe, my dear E., that the pure, genu- 
 ine feelings of Love are as rare in the world as the 
 pure, genuine principles of Virtue and Piety. This I 
 hope will account for the uncommon style of all my 
 letters to you. By uncommon, I mean, their being 
 written in such a serious manner, which, to tell you 
 the truth, has made me often afraid lest you should 
 take me for some zealous bigot, who conversed with 
 his mistress as he would converse with his minister. 
 I don't know how it is, my Dear; for though, except 
 your company, there is nothing on earth gives me so 
 much pleasure as writing to you, yet it never gives 
 me those giddy raptures so much talked of among 
 lovers. I have often thought that if a well-grounded 
 affection be not really a part of virtue, 'tis something 
 extremely akin to it. Whenever the thought of my 
 E. warms my heart, every feeling of humanity, every
 
 364 CORRESPONDENCE. [1780. 
 
 principle of generosity, kindles in my breast. It ex- 
 tinguishes every dirty spark of malice and envy, 
 which are but too apt to infest me. I grasp every 
 creature in the arms of Universal Benevolence, and 
 equally participate in the pleasures of the happy, and 
 sympathize with the miseries of the unfortunate. I 
 assure you, my Dear, I often look up to the Divine 
 disposer of events, with an eye of gratitude for the 
 blessing which I hope He intends to bestow on me, 
 in bestowing you. I sincerely wish that He may bless 
 my endeavors to make your life as comfortable and 
 happy as possible, both in sweetening the rougher 
 parts of my natural temper, and bettering the unkindly 
 circumstances of my fortune. This, my Dear, is a 
 passion, at least in my view, worthy of a man, and I 
 will add, worthy of a Christian. The sordid earth- 
 worm may profess love to a woman's person, whilst in 
 reality his affection is centered in her pocket ; and 
 the slavish drudge may go a- wooing as he goes to the 
 horse-market, to choose one who is stout and firm, and 
 as we may say of an old horse, one who will be a 
 good drudge and draw kindly. I disdain their dirty, 
 puny ideas. I would be heartily out of humor with 
 myself, if I thought I were capable of having so poor 
 a notion of the Sex which were designed to crown 
 the pleasures of society. Poor devils ! I don't envy 
 them their happiness who have such notions. For my 
 part, I propose quite other pleasures with my dear 
 partner. 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 () TO EUJSON, OR ALISON BEGBIE. 
 
 (CURRIE, 1800.) 
 
 [LOCHI.EA, 1781.] 
 
 MY DEAR E. I have often thought it a peculiarly 
 unlucky circumstance in love, that though in every
 
 4jr. 22.] EARLY LOVE LETTERS. 365 
 
 other situation in life, telling the truth is not only 
 the safest, but actually by far the easiest way of pro- 
 ceeding-, a lyover is never under greater difficulty in 
 acting, or more puzzled for expression, than when his 
 passion is sincere, and his intentions are honorable. 
 I do not think that it is very difficult for a person of 
 ordinary capacity to talk of love and fondness, which 
 are not felt, and to make vows of constancy and fidel- 
 ity which are never intended to be performed, if he 
 be villain enough to practice such detestable conduct : 
 but to a man whose heart glows with the principles 
 of integrity and truth, and who sincerely loves a 
 woman of amiable person, uncommon refinement of 
 sentiment, and purity of manners to such a one, in 
 such circumstances, I can assure you, my Dear, from 
 my own feelings at this present moment, Courtship is 
 a task indeed. There is such a number of foreboding 
 fears, and distrustful anxieties crowd into my mind 
 when I am in your company, or when I sit down to 
 write to you, that what to speak or what to write I 
 am altogether at a loss. 
 
 There is one rule which I have hitherto practised, 
 and which I shall invariably keep with you, and that 
 is, honestly to tell you the plain truth. There is 
 something so mean and unmanly in the arts of dissim- 
 ulation and falsehood, that I am surprised they can 
 be used by any one in so noble, so generous a pas- 
 sion as Virtuous Love. No, my dear E., I shall 
 never endeavor to gain your favor by such detestable 
 practices. If you will be so good and so generous 
 as to admit me for your partner, your companion, your 
 bosom friend through life ; there is nothing on this 
 side of eternity shall give me greater transport ; but I 
 shall never think of purchasing your hand by any arts 
 unworthy of a man, and I will add, of a Christian. 
 There is one thing, my Dear, which I earnestly re- 
 quest of you, and it is this ; that you would soon either
 
 3C6 CORRESPONDENCE. [1781. 
 
 put an end to my hopes by a peremptory refusal, 01 
 cure me of my fears by a generous consent. 
 
 It would oblige me much if you would send me a 
 line or two when convenient. I shall only add further, 
 that if a behavior regulated (though perhaps but very 
 imperfectly) by the rules of Honor and Virtue, if a 
 heart devoted to love and esteem you, and an earnest 
 endeavor to promote your happiness ; if these are 
 qualities you would wish in a friend, in a husband ; 
 I hope you shall ever find them in your real friend 
 and sincere lover. 
 
 ( 6 ) TO ELLISON, OR ALISON BEGBIE. 
 
 (CURRIE, 1800.) 
 
 [LOCHLEA, 1781.] 
 
 I OUGHT in good manners to have acknowledged the 
 receipt of your letter before this time, but my heart 
 was so shocked with the contents of it, that I can 
 scarcely yet collect my thoughts so as to write to you 
 on the subject. I will not attempt to describe what I 
 felt on receiving your letter. I read it over and over, 
 again and again, and though it was in the politest 
 language of refusal, still it was peremptory ; ' you were 
 very sorry you could not make me a return, but you 
 wish me ' what without you I never can obtain, ' you 
 wish me all kind of happiness.' It would be weak 
 and unmanly to say that without you I never can be 
 happy ; but sure I am, that sharing life with you, 
 would have given it a relish, that, wanting you, I 
 never can taste. 
 
 Your uncommon personal advantages, and your 
 superior good sense, do not so much strike me ; these 
 possibly in a few instances may be met with in others ; 
 but that amiable goodness, that tender, feminine soft- 
 ness, that endearing sweetness of disposition, with all
 
 JT. 23.] RESIDENCE IN IRVINE. 367 
 
 the charming offspring of a warm feeling heart these 
 I never again expect to meet with in such a degree 
 in this world. All these charming qualities, height- 
 ened by an education much beyond anything I have 
 ever met with in any woman I ever dared to approach, 
 have made an impression on my heart that I do not 
 think the world can ever efface. My imagination had 
 fondly flattered itself with a wish, I dare not say it ever 
 reached a hope, that possibly I might one day call 
 you mine. I had formed the most delightful images, 
 and my fancy fondly brooded over them ; but now I 
 am wretched for the loss of what I really had no right 
 to expect. I must now think no more of you as a 
 mistress, still I presume to ask to be admitted as a 
 friend. As such I wish to be allowed to wait on you, 
 and as I expect to remove in a few days a little far- 
 ther off, and you, I suppose, will perhaps soon leave 
 this place, I wish to see you or hear from you soon ; 
 and if an expression should perhaps escape me rather 
 too warm for friendship, I hope you will pardon it in, 
 
 my dear Miss , (pardon me the dear expression for 
 
 once). * 
 
 BRIEF SOJOURN IN IRVINE, AND RETURN TO LOCHLEA. 
 
 The last of the foregoing series of love letters closes with 
 a reference to the fact that the writer expected soon to re- 
 move to some distance. Gilbert has explained that Robert 
 and he had been allowed by their father to cultivate flax 
 on their own account on a portion of the ground at Loch- 
 lea ; and that in course of selling it Robert began to think 
 of learning and pursuing the trade of a flax dresser, as 
 
 * We have already quoted Lockhart's and Chambers's opinions of the foregoing 
 letters. Motherwell remarks, that " Burns in these letters moralizes occasionally 
 very happily on love and marriage. They are in fact the only sensible love let- 
 ters we have seen ; yet they have an air of task-work and constraint about them 
 that is far from natural." 
 
 Dr. Hately Waddell's opinion of them is thus briefly expressed: "After such 
 sermonising, the result was by no means wonderful."
 
 368 CORRESPONDENCE. [1781. 
 
 well to tsuit his grand view of settling in life, as to turn the 
 flax-growing on the farm to good account. On nth November 
 1780, he was mainly instrumental in forming a Bachelor de- 
 bating club in the village of Tarbolton, whose glory at length 
 culminated in causing the production of the famous poem 
 "Death and Dr. Hornbook." On the 4th of July 1781, he was 
 admitted an apprentice freemason of St. David's Tarbolton 
 Lodge, No. 174, and immediately thereafter he removed to the 
 seaport town of Irvine, where he entered into partnership with 
 a flax-dresser named Peacock, a distant relative of his mother's ; 
 but the result of that scheme was far from satisfactory. There, 
 however, he formed an intimate friendship with a young sea- 
 man named Richard Brown, of whose talents and manliness of 
 character he formed so high an opinion, that he seems to have 
 adopted him as his model, both in sentiment and deportment. 
 This young man became in course of time one of his most 
 cherished correspondents ; and it appears from one of Burns' s 
 letters to him (3oth December 1787) that Brown was among 
 the first individuals who discerned his latent genius, and en- 
 couraged him to aspire to the character of a poet. 
 
 The following letter addressed by him to his father completes 
 the picture of that distress at Irvine ; he was enabled to leave 
 that town early in the spring of 1782, and return to his rustic 
 occupation at Lochlea. 
 
 TO HIS FATHER. 
 
 (CtJRRlE, I800.) 
 
 IRVINE, Dec. 27, 1781. 
 
 HONORED SIR, I have purposely delayed writing, 
 in the hope that I should have the pleasure of seeing 
 you, on New- Year's day ; but work comes so hard 
 upon us, that I do not choose to be absent on that 
 account, as well as for some other little reasons which 
 I shall tell you at meeting. My health is nearly the 
 same as when you were here, only my sleep is a little 
 sounder, and on the whole I am rather better than 
 otherwise, though I mend by very slow degrees. The 
 weakness of my nerves has so debilitated my mind, 
 that I dare neither review my past wants, nor look 
 forward into futurity ; for the least anxiety in my
 
 ajr. 23.] SEVERE IIANESS. 
 
 breast produces most unhappy effects on my whole 
 frame. Sometimes, indeed, when for an hour or two 
 my spirits are a little lightened, I glimmer a little 
 into futurity ; but my principal, and indeed my only 
 pleasurable, employment is looking backwards and 
 forwards in a moral and religious way. I am quite 
 transported at the thought that ere long, perhaps very 
 soon, I shall bid an eternal adieu to all the pains, and 
 uneasiness, and disquietudes of this weary life ; for I 
 assure you I am heartily tired of it ; and if I do not 
 very much deceive myself, I could contentedly and 
 gladly resign it. 
 
 "The soul, uneasy, and confined at home, 
 Rests and expatiates in a life to come." 
 
 It is for this reason I am more pleased with the 
 1 5th, 1 6th, and i/th verses of the yth chapter of 
 Revelation,* than with any ten times as many verses 
 in the whole Bible, and would not exchange the noble 
 enthusiasm with which they inspire me for all that 
 this world has to offer. As for this world, I despair 
 of ever making a figure in it. I am not formed for 
 the bustle of the busy, nor the flutter of the gay. I 
 shall never again be capable of entering into such 
 scenes. Indeed I am altogether unconcerned at the 
 thoughts of this life. I foresee that poverty and ob- 
 scurity probably await me, and I am in some measure 
 prepared, and daily preparing, to meet them. I have 
 but just time and paper to return you my grateful 
 thanks for the lessons of virtue and piety you have 
 given me, which were too much neglected at the time 
 of giving them, but which, I hope have been remem- 
 
 * ' Therefore are they before the throne of God, and serve Him day and night 
 in His temple ; and He that sitteth on the throne shall dwell among them. 
 They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more ; neither shall the sun 
 light on them, nor any heat. For the Lamb that is in the midst of the throne 
 shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters ; and God 
 shall wipe away all tears from their eyes.' 
 
 I. X
 
 370 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 bered ere it was too late. Present my dutiful respects 
 to my mother, and my compliments to Mr. and Mrs. 
 Muir ; and, with wishing you a merry New-year's day 
 I shall conclude. I am, honored Sir, your dutiful 
 son, ROBERT BURNESS. 
 
 P. S. My meal is nearly out ; but I am going to 
 borrow till I get more.* 
 
 THE PLOUGH AND THE LYRE RESUMED, 1782. 
 
 Speaking of this period in his Autobiography, the author 
 says " Rhyme, except some religious pieces that are in print, 
 I had given up ; but meeting with Fergusson's Scots Poems, I 
 strung anew my wildly-sounding rustic lyre with emulating 
 vigor." The admirable piece called " The death and dying 
 words of poor Mailie," together with the songs, " My Nanie 
 O," and "The Rigs o' Barley," are the striking compositions 
 which the above remark suggests to the reader's mind ; we 
 gather from Gilbert's account of the production of Poor Mailie 
 that their youngest brother John (born in 1769) was then alive. 
 That youth was fourteen years old when he died, and conse- 
 quently would be laid in Alloway kirkyard in 1783, just about 
 a year before the patriarchal father was carried thither. 
 
 TO SIR JOHN WHITEFOORD, BART. 
 OF BALLOCHMYLE. 
 
 (DOUGLAS, 1877.) 
 
 SIR, We who subscribe this are both members of 
 St James's Lodge, Tarbolton, and one of us in the 
 office of Warden, and as we have the honor of having 
 
 This beautifully dutiful and reverential letter goes far to justify what Waddell 
 says of Burns's character even during the Irvine period. " Still (i. e. in spite of 
 questionable fellowships, &c.,) his heart was uncontaminated, and his life, as 
 lives then went, conspicuously pure. His studious habits, the gentleness and 
 wisdom of his converse, his filial reverence and brotherly attachments were themes 
 of admiration everywhere and to this day are spoken of." Read, in connection 
 with this, his epitaph on his father, which carries its own evidence of its sincerity ; 
 and yet more, that portion of the Cotter's Saturday Night where he depicts the 
 " patriarchal sire." J. H.
 
 *T. 24.] FREE MASONRY. 371 
 
 you for Master of our Lodge, we hope you will ex- 
 cuse this freedom, as you are the proper person to 
 whom we ought to apply. We look on our Mason 
 Lodge to be a serious matter, both with respect to 
 the character of Masonry itself, and likewise as it is a 
 Charitable Society. This last, indeed, does not inter- 
 est you farther than a benevolent heart is interested 
 in the welfare of its fellow-creatures ; but to us, Sir, 
 who are of the lower orders of mankind, to have a fund 
 in view, on which we may with certainty depend to 
 be kept from want should we be in circumstances of 
 distress, or old age, this is a matter of high import- 
 ance. 
 
 We are sorry to observe that our Lodge's affairs with 
 respect to its finances, have for a good while been in 
 a wretched situation. We have considerable sums in 
 bills which lye by without being paid, or put in ex- 
 ecution, and many of our members never mind their 
 yearly dues, or anything else belonging to the Lodge. 
 And since the separation from St. David's, we are not 
 sure even of our existence as a Lodge. There has 
 been a dispute before the Grand Lodge, but how de- 
 cided, or if decided at all, we know not. 
 
 For these and other reasons, we humbly beg the favor 
 of you, as soon as convenient, to call a meeting, an<H 
 let us consider on some means to retrieve our wretched 
 affairs, We are, &c. 
 
 The separation between the St. David's and St. James's 
 Lodges of Tarbolton, above referred to, happened in June 1782 ; 
 and therefore the latter portion of that year seems to be the 
 date of the foregoing letter. Tt exists as a scroll in the poet's 
 handwriting on the back of his draft of No. i of the love-letters 
 to Ellison Begbie, given at p. 360, supra. The original is in 
 the possession of John Adams, Esq., Greenock. 
 
 We have already noted that Burns was admitted an appren- 
 tice in St. David's Tarbolton Lodge (174) on 4th July, and 
 passed and raised on ist October 1781. At the disruption of 
 that Lodge in June 1782, the separating body to which Burns
 
 372 CORRESPONDENCE. [1783. 
 
 belonged obtained constitution as " St. James's Tarbolton Lodge 
 (178)," and the poet's name occurs in the books of that Lodge 
 as Depute-master, on 27th July 1784. 
 
 The next letter of the young bard is a very interesting one, 
 addressed to his early preceptor, Murdoch. It not only exhibits 
 the progress of his studies, but (as Motherwell has remarked) 
 " affords us an insight into the origin of part of that senti- 
 mentalism and exaggeration of feeling which are occasionally 
 perceptible, especially in his prose writings." The ballad " My 
 father was a fanner upon the Carrick border," given at p. 38, 
 Vol. i, contains many of the characteristic thoughts found in this 
 letter. 
 
 (') TO MR. JOHN MURDOCH, SCHOOLMASTER, 
 
 STAPLES INN BUILDINGS, LONDON. 
 (CURRIE, 1800.) 
 
 LOCHI^EA, i$th January 1783. 
 
 DEAR SIR, As I have an opportunity of sending 
 you a letter without putting you to that expense, 
 which any production of mine would ill repay, I em- 
 brace it with pleasure, to tell you that I have not for- 
 gotten, nor will ever forget, the many obligations I 
 lie under to your kindness and friendship. 
 
 I do not doubt, Sir, but you will wish to know 
 what has been the result of all the pains of an indul- 
 gent father, and a masterly teacher ; and I wish I 
 could gratify your curiosity with such a recital as you 
 would be pleased with ; but that is what I am afraid 
 will not be the case. I have indeed kept pretty clear 
 of vicious habits, and in this respect, I hope my con- 
 duct will not disgrace the education I have gotten ; 
 but, as a man of the world, I am most miserably de- 
 ficient. One would have thought that, bred as I have 
 been under a father who has figured pretty well as 
 un homme des affaires, I might have been what the 
 world calls, a pushing active fellow ; but to tell you
 
 .aST. 25.] HIS FAVORITE AUTHORS. 373 
 
 the truth, Sir, there is hardly anything more my reverse. 
 I seein to be one sent into the world to see and ob- 
 serve ; and I very easily compound with the knave 
 who tricks me of my money, if there be any thing 
 original about him which shews me human nature in 
 a different light from any thing I have seen before. 
 In short, the joy of my heart is to u study men, their 
 manners, and their ways;" and for this darling sub- 
 ject I cheerfully sacrifice every other consideration. I 
 am quite indolent about those great concerns that set 
 the bustling, busy sons of care agog ; and if I have 
 to answer for the present hour I am very easy with 
 regard to anything further. Even the last, worst shift 
 of the unfortunate and the wretched,* does not much 
 terrify me : I know that even then, my talent for what 
 country folks call "a sensible crack," when once it 
 is sanctified by a hoary head, would procure me so 
 much esteem, that even then I would learn to be 
 happy. However, I am under no apprehensions about 
 that, for though indolent, yet so far as an extremely 
 delicate constitution permits, I am not lazy ; and in 
 many things, especially in tavern matters, I am a 
 strict economist ; not indeed for the sake of the money ; 
 but one of the principal parts in my composition is a 
 kind of pride of stomach, and I scorn to fear the face 
 of any man living ; above everything, I abhor as hell, 
 the idea of sneaking in a corner to avoid a dun pos- 
 sibly some pitiful, sordid wretch who in my heart I 
 despise and detest. 'Tis this, and this alone, that en- 
 dears economy to me.f In the matter of books, indeed, 
 I am very profuse. My favorite authors are of the 
 sentimental kind, such as Shenstone, particularly his 
 Elegies ; Thomson ; Man of Feeling (a book I prize 
 
 * The last shift alluded to here, must be the condition of an itinerant beggar. 
 CURRIE. The same sentiment, clothed in fascinating verse, is found in the first 
 " Epistle to Davie." 
 
 t The reader will recogiiise in the above passage the materials of one of th 
 Most admired stanzas in the " Epistle to a young Friend."
 
 374 CORRESPONDENCE. [1783. 
 
 next to the Bible) ; Man of the World ; Sterne, espe- 
 cially his Sentimental Journey ; M'Pherson's Ossian, 
 &c. : these are the glorious models after which I en- 
 deavor to form my conduct ; and 'tis incongruous, 'tis 
 absurd to suppose that the man whose mind glows with 
 sentiments lighted up at their sacred flame the man 
 whose heart distends with benevolence to the whole 
 human race he ' ' who can soar above this little scene 
 of things" can he descend to mind the paltry con- 
 cerns about which the terraefilial * race fret, and fume, 
 and vex themselves ! O how the glorious triumph 
 swells my heart ! I forget that I am a poor insignifi- 
 cant devil, unnoticed and unknown, stalking up and 
 down fairs and markets, when I happen to be in them 
 reading a page or two of Mankind, and "catching the 
 manners living as they rise," whilst the men of busi- 
 ness jostle me on every side as an idle incumbrance in 
 their way.f But I dare say I have by this time tired 
 your patience ; so I shall conclude with begging you 
 to give Mrs. Murdoch not my compliments, for that 
 is a mere common place story ; but my warmest, kind- 
 est wishes for her welfare ; and accept of the same for 
 yourself, from, Dear Sir, yours, &c. 
 
 The reference made in the above letter to the writer's aged 
 father is very slight, but elsewhere he says : ' ' the clouds of 
 misfortune were gathering thick round my father's head, the 
 darkest of which was, he was visibly far gone in a consump- 
 tion." The two letters which follow addressed to the son of 
 James, the deceased elder brother of William Burness, carry 
 that topic to its dark issue, and the first of these is expanded 
 into what Chambers terms, " a sensible this-world-like sketch 
 of the state of country matters at that time in Ayrshire." 
 
 * Burns was fond of such Latin compounds as " terraefilial " and " tenebrific," 
 the latter of which he uses in the Epistle to Davit. 
 
 f The reader will in this passage be reminded of similar language introduced 
 tnto some of the poet's epistles in 1785, for instance, 
 
 The warly race may drudge and drive, 
 Hog-shouther j undie, stretch and strive, 
 I,et me fair Nature's face descrive," &c. p. 118.
 
 a&. 25.] HIS FATHER'S RELATIONS. 375 
 
 In strict chronological order we ought here to introduce the 
 opening passages of a very interesting Common-place Book, 
 which the poet commenced in April 1783, and continued from 
 time to time to insert entries therein till he closed it in Octo- 
 ber 1785, with the words " Let my pupil, as he tenders his 
 own peace, keep up a regular, warm intercourse with the 
 Deity." But we will present that document verbatim and in- 
 tact, from the original manuscript, in its proper place, and 
 therefore defer its introduction until it may be perused with 
 more effect. 
 
 0)TO MR. JAMES BURNESS, WRITER, MONT- 
 ROSE.* 
 
 (GILBERT BURNS'S ED., 1820.) 
 
 DEAR SIR, My father received your favor of the 
 loth curt, and as he has been for some months very 
 poorly in health, and is, in his own opinion and in- 
 deed in almost every body's else in a dying condi- 
 tion, he has only with great difficulty wrote a few 
 farewell lines to each of his brothers-in-law. For this 
 melancholy reason, I now hold the pen for him to 
 thank you for your kind letter, and to assure you, 
 Sir, that it shall not be my fault if my father's cor- 
 respondence in the north die with him. My brother 
 writes to John Caird, and to him I must refer you for 
 the news of our family, f 
 
 I shall only trouble you with a few particulars rela- 
 tive to the present wretched state of this country. Our 
 markets are exceedingly high oatmeal "L'jd. and i8d. 
 per peck, and not to be got even at that price. We 
 have indeed been pretty well supplied with quantities 
 of white peas from England and elsewhere, but that 
 
 This gentleman, a son of James Burness, the deceased brother of William 
 Burness, was, of course, a full cousin of the poet, and his senior by upwards 
 of eight years. 
 
 t John Caird, as the reader has seen at p. 331 supra, was the husband of 
 Elspet. a sister of the poet's father.
 
 376 CORRESPONDENCE. [1783. 
 
 resource is likely to fail us, and what will become of 
 us then, particularly the very poorest sort, Heaven 
 only knows. This country, till of late, was flourish- 
 ing incredibly in the manufacture of Silk, Lawn, and 
 Carpet-weaving ; and we are still carrying on a good 
 deal in that way, but much reduced from what it was. 
 We had also a fine trade in the Shoe way, but now 
 entirely ruined, and hundreds driven to a starving 
 condition on account of it. Farming is also at a very 
 low ebb with us. Our lands, generally speaking, are 
 mountainous and barren ; and our Landholders, full of 
 ideas of farming gathered from English, and the Lo- 
 thians, and other rich soils in Scotland, make no al- 
 lowance for the odds of the quality of land, and con- 
 sequently stretch us much beyond what, in the event, 
 we will be found able to pay. We are also much at 
 a loss for want of proper methods in our improve- 
 ments of farming. Necessity compels us to leave our 
 old schemes, and few of us have opportunities of being 
 well informed in new ones. In short, my dear Sir, 
 since the unfortunate beginning of this American war, 
 and its as unfortunate conclusion, this country has been, 
 and still is, decaying very fast Even in higher life, 
 a couple of our Ayrshire noblemen, and the major part of 
 our knights and squires, are all insolvent. A misera- 
 ble job of a Douglas, Heron, and Co.'s bank, which 
 no doubt you have heard of, has undone numbers of 
 them ; and imitating English and French, and other 
 foreign luxuries and fopperies, has ruined as many 
 more. There is a great trade of smuggling carried on 
 along our coasts, which, however destructive to the 
 interests of the kingdom at large, certainly enriches 
 this corner of it, but too often at the expense of our 
 morals. However, it enables individuals to make, at 
 least for a time, a splendid appearance ; but Fortune, 
 as is usual with her when she is uncommonly lavish 
 of her favors, is generally even with them at the last ;
 
 a&. 25.] DEATH OF HIS FATHER. 377 
 
 and happy were it for numbers of them if she would 
 leave them no worse than when she found them. 
 
 My mother sends you a small present of a cheese ; 
 'tis but a very little one, as our last year's stock is 
 sold off; but if you could fix on any correspondent 
 in Edinburgh or Glasgow, we would send you a proper 
 one in the season. Mrs Black promises to take the 
 cheese under her care so far, and then to send it to 
 you by the Stirling carrier. 
 
 I shall conclude this long letter with assuring you 
 that I shall be very happy to hear from you, or any 
 of our friends in your country, when opportunity serves. 
 
 My father sends you, probably for the last time in 
 this world, his warmest wishes for your welfare and 
 happiness ; and mother and the rest of the family 
 desire to enclose their kind comp nts . to you, Mrs. Bur- 
 ness, and the rest of your family, along with, dear Sir, 
 Your affectionate Cousin, 
 
 ROBT. BuRNESS.* 
 , 2ist June 1783. 
 
 ( 2 ) TO MR. JAMES BURNESS, WRITER, 
 MONTROSE. 
 
 (GILBERT BURNS'S ED., 1820.) 
 
 D R . COUSIN, I would have returned you my thanks 
 for your kind favor of the i3th of December sooner, 
 had it not been that I waited to give you an account 
 of that melancholy event which for some time past we 
 have from day to day expected. 
 
 On the 1 3th current I lost the best of fathers, f 
 Though, to be sure, we have had long warning of the 
 
 * The original MS. of this letter, and of that which immediately follows, is pre- 
 served in the poet's monument at Edinburgh. A comparison of our text with that 
 of other editions will show several nice variations here as the result of the col- 
 lation. 
 
 t Notwithstanding' the poet's (erroneous) impression in regard to his father's 
 dislike to him, we see here, as elsewhere, the tender respect with which he chei> 
 ished his memory. J. H.
 
 378 CORRESPONDENCE. [1783. 
 
 impending stroke ; still the feelings of nature claim 
 their part, and I cannot recollect the tender endear- 
 ments and parental lessons of the best of friends and 
 the ablest of instructors, without feeling what, perhaps, 
 the calmer dictates of reason would partly condemn. 
 
 I hope my father's friends in your country will not 
 let their connection in this place die with him. For 
 my part I shall ever with pleasure with pride, acknowl- 
 edge my connection with those who were allied by the 
 ties of blood and friendship to a man whose memory 
 I shall ever honor and revere. 
 
 I expect therefore, my dear Sir, you will not neglect 
 any opportunity of letting me hear from you, which 
 will very much oblidge, My dear Cousin, yours sin- 
 cerely, 
 
 ROBERT BURNESS. 
 
 LOCHI,EA, vjth February 1784. 
 
 TO MR. JAMES BURNESS, WRITER, 
 MONTROSE. 
 
 (CUNNINGHAM, 1834.) 
 
 MOSSGIEL, 3 Aug. 1784. 
 
 MY DEAR SIR, I ought in gratitude to have 
 acknowledged the receipt of your last kind letter before 
 this time ; but, without troubling you with any apology, 
 I shall proceed to inform you that our family are all in 
 good health at present, and we were very happy with 
 the unexpected favor of John Caird's company for 
 nearly two weeks, and I must say it of him that he 
 is one of the most agreeable, facetious, warm-hearted 
 lads I was ever acquainted with. 
 
 We have been surprised with one of the most extra- 
 ordinary phenomena in the moral world, which, I dare 
 say, has happened in the course of this last century. 
 We have had a party of the "Presbytery Relief," as
 
 T. 26.] THE BUCHANITES. 379 
 
 they call themselves, for some time in this country. 
 A pretty thriving society of them has been in the 
 burgh of Irvine for some years past, till about two 
 years ago, a Mrs. Buchan from Glasgow came and 
 began to spread some fanatical notions of religion 
 among them, and in a short time made many converts 
 among them, and among others, their Preacher, one 
 Mr. Whyte, who, upon that account, has been sus- 
 pended and formally deposed by his brethren. He 
 continued, however, to preach in private to his party, 
 and was supported, both he and their Spiritual Mother, 
 as they affect to call old Buchan, by the contributions 
 of the rest, several of whom were in good circum- 
 stances ; till in Spring last, the populace rose and 
 mobbed the old leader, Buchan, and put her out of 
 the town ; on which all her followers voluntarily quitted 
 the place likewise, and with such precipitation, that 
 many of them never shut their doors behind them ; 
 one left a washing on the green, another a cow bel- 
 lowing at the crib without meat, or any body to mind 
 her, and after several stages they are fixed at present in 
 the neighborhood of Dumfries. Their tenets are a strange 
 jumble of enthusiastic jargon ; among others, she pre- 
 tends to give them the Holy Ghost by breathing on 
 them, which she does with postures and practices that 
 are scandalously indecent. They have likewise dis- 
 posed of all their effects, and hold a community of 
 goods, and live nearly an idle life, carrying on a great 
 farce of pretended devotion in barns and woods, where 
 they lodge and lie all together, and hold likewise a 
 community of women, as it is another of their tenets 
 that they can commit no moral sin. I am personally 
 acquainted with most of them, and I can assure you 
 the above mentioned are facts. 
 
 This, my dear Sir, is one of the many instances of 
 the folly in leaving the guidance of sound reason and 
 common sense in matters of religion. Whenever we
 
 380 CORRESPONDENCE. [1784. 
 
 neglect or despise these sacred monitors, the whimsical 
 notions of a perturbated brain are taken for the imme- 
 diate influences of the Deity, and the wildest fanaticism, 
 and the most inconsistent absurdities, will meet with 
 abettors and converts. Nay, I have often thought, that 
 the more out-of-the-way and ridiculous their fancies are, 
 if once they are sanctified under the sacred name of 
 Religion, the unhappy mistaken votaries are the more 
 firmly glued to them. 
 
 I expect to hear from you soon, and I beg you 
 will remember me to all friends, and believe me to 
 be, my Dear Sir, your affectionate Cousin, 
 
 ROBERT BURNESS. 
 
 Direct to me at Mossgiel, parish of Mauchline, near 
 Kilmarnock. 
 
 The holograph of the above letter is preserved in the poet's 
 monument at Edinburgh, from which we supply the opening 
 and concluding paragraphs hitherto omitted, and correct several 
 inaccuracies in former editions. 
 
 The following letter is addressed to Thomas Orr, an old 
 associate of the poet, in his Kirkoswald School days of 
 Autumn 1775, who occasionally came to Lochlea to assist in 
 shearing the harvest grain. Thomas Orr was in Burns' s confi- 
 dence regarding his amour with Peggy Thomson, which forms 
 the subject of the following note. It is to him that William 
 Burness addresses the first of the two letters of his here pub- 
 lished. (See page 358.) See fac-simile of a letter to T. Orr, 1782, 
 inserted. 
 
 C) TO MR. THOMAS ORR, 
 
 PARK, NEAR KIRKOSWALD. 
 (DOUGLAS, 1877.) 
 
 D*. THOMAS, I am much obliged to you for your 
 last letter, tho' I assure you the contents of it gave 
 me no manner of concern. I am presently so cursedly 
 taken in with an affair of gallantry, that I am very
 
 at*. 25.] MISS KENNEDY. 381 
 
 glad Peggy is off my hands, as I am at present em- 
 barrassed enough without her. I don't choose to enter 
 into particulars in writing, but never was a poor rakish 
 rascal in a more pitiful taking. I should be glad to 
 see you to tell you the affair, meanwhile I am your 
 friend, 
 
 ROBERT BURNESS. 
 
 MOSSGIEL, ii Nov. 1784. 
 
 Amid all the wealth of poetry produced by Burns in course 
 of the year 1785, it is curious to note that only one prose 
 letter, known to have been penned by him in that year, is 
 found in his correspondence. It is the one addressed to Miss 
 Peggy Kennedy of Daljarrock, parish of Colmonell, a young 
 Carrick beauty who in the autumn of that year paid a visit of 
 some weeks' duration to her relative, Mrs. Gavin Hamilton. 
 Burns became acquainted with her during his then almost 
 daily intercourse with Mr. Hamilton, and recorded his admira- 
 tion of her person in the poem printed at page 139, Vol. I. 
 His warmest good-wishes were at same time expressed in the 
 following letter which enclosed the verses. 
 
 C) TO MISS MARGARET KENNEDY.* 
 
 (CROMEK, 1808.) 
 
 [AUTUMN of 1785.] 
 
 MADAM, Permit me to present you with the en- 
 closed song, as a small though grateful tribute for the 
 honor of your acquaintance. I have in these verses 
 attempted some faint sketches of your portrait in the 
 unembellished, simple manner of descriptive TRUTH. 
 Flattery, I leave to your LOVERS, whose exaggerating 
 fancies may make them imagine you are still nearer 
 perfection than you really are. 
 
 Poets, Madam, of all mankind, feel most forcibly 
 
 * Miss Kennedy was the niece of Sir Andrew Cathcart, of Carleton Bart. Burns 
 made her acquaintance at the house of Gavin Hamilton, Mauchline. We will in 
 a future portion of this work have to very fully treat of her history. She was 
 the " occasion" of " Ye Banks and Braes o' Bonie Doon," and other pieces. J. H.
 
 382 CORRESPONDENCE. [1784. 
 
 the powers of BEAUTY ; as, if they are really POETS of 
 Nature's making, their feelings must be finer, and their 
 taste more delicate than most of the world. In the 
 cheerful bloom of SPRING, or the pensive mildness of 
 AUTUMN, the grandeur of SUMMER, or the hoary ma- 
 jesty of WINTER, the poet feels a charm unknown to 
 the most of his species : even the sight of a fine flower, 
 or the company of a fine woman (by far the finest part 
 of God's works below), have sensations for the poetic 
 heart that the HERD of men are strangers to. On this 
 last account, Madam, I am, as in many other things, 
 indebted to Mr. Hamilton's kindness in introducing 
 me to you. Your lovers may view you with a wish, 
 I look on you with pleasure ; their hearts, in your 
 presence, may glow with desire, mine rises with ad- 
 miration. 
 
 That the arrows of misfortune, however they should, 
 as incident to humanity, glance a slight wound, may 
 never reach your heart that the snares of villainy may 
 never beset you in the road of life that INNOCENCE 
 may hand you by the path of HONOR to the dwelling 
 of PEACE is the sincere wish of him who has the 
 honor to be, &c. R. B. 
 
 The first letter that Burns penned in 1786 that has been 
 preserved gives a hint to his correspondent that some impor- 
 tant matter with respect to himself, not the most agreeable 
 had occurred. It also gives a list of his more recent poetical 
 compositions which not only furnishes an excellent guide in 
 the chronology of those early poems, but evinces how eagerly 
 the poet then was bent on creating materials to fill a volume 
 of his works to be laid before the public. 
 
 O TO MR. JOHN RICHMOND, EDINBURGH. 
 
 (CROMEK, 1808.) 
 
 MOSSGIEL, 17 'th February 1786. 
 
 MY DEAR SIR, I have not time at present to up- 
 braid you for your silence and neglect ; I shall only
 
 1786.] FIRST HINT OP DISAGREEABLES. 383~ 
 
 say I received yours with great pleasure. I have en- 
 closed you a piece of rhyming ware for your perusal. 
 I have been very busy with the Muses since I saw 
 you, and have composed, among several others, "The 
 Ordination," a poem on Mr. M'Kinlay's being called 
 to Kilmarnock ; " Scotch Drink," a poem ; "The Cot- 
 ter's Saturday Night;" an "Address to the Devil," 
 &c. I have likewise completed my poem on the 
 "Dogs," but have not shown it to the world. My 
 chief patron now is Mr. Aiken, in Ayr, who is pleased 
 to express great approbation of my works. Be so good 
 as send me Fergusson,* by Connel, and I will remit 
 you the money. I have no news to acquaint you with 
 about Mauchline, they are just going on in the old 
 way. I have some very important news with respect 
 to myself, not the most agreeable news I am sure 
 you cannot guess, but I shall give you the particulars 
 another time. I am extremely happy with Smith ; f 
 he is the only friend I have now in Mauchline. I can 
 scarcely forgive your long neglect of me, and I beg 
 you will let me hear from you regularly by Connel. 
 If you would act your part as a friend, I am sure 
 neither good nor bad fortune should estrange or alter 
 me. Excuse haste, as I got yours but yesterday. I 
 am, my dear Sir, yours, 
 
 ROBT. BURNESS. 
 
 0) TO JAMES SMITH, MAUCHLINE. 
 
 (LOCKHART, 1828.) 
 
 .... Against two things I am fixed as fate stay- 
 ing at home ; and owning her conjugally. The first, 
 by Heaven, I will not do ! the last, by Hell, I will 
 never do ! A good God bless you, and make you 
 
 * Robert Fergusson's Poems, which Burns had before perused in a borrowed 
 copy. 
 f James Smith, an account of whom has been given at page 253 vol. I.
 
 384 CORRESPONDENCE. [1786 
 
 happy, up to the warmest weeping wish of parting 
 friendship .... 
 
 If you see Jean, tell her I will meet her, so help 
 me God, in my hour of need.* R. B. 
 
 Mr. lyockhart thus explains the above singular fragment : 
 " When Burns was first informed of Miss Armour's condition, 
 the announcement staggered him like a blow. He saw nothing 
 for it but to fly the country at once ; and in a note to James 
 Smith of Mauchline, the confidante of his amour, he wrote as 
 above. 
 
 "The lovers met accordingly ; and the result of the meeting 
 was what was to be anticipated from the tenderness and the 
 manliness of Burns's feelings. All dread of personal incon- 
 venience yielded at once to the tears of the woman he loved, 
 and ere they parted, he gave into her keeping a written 
 acknowledgment of marriage, which, when produced by a 
 person in Miss Armour's condition, is, according to the Scots 
 law, to be accepted as legal evidence of an irregular marriage 
 .... By what arguments the girl's parents afterwards pre- 
 vailed on her to take so strange and so painful a step we 
 know not ; but the fact is certain, that, at their urgent en- 
 treaty, she destroyed the document, which must have been to 
 her the most precious of her possessions the only evidence of 
 her marriage." 
 
 O TO MR. JOHN KENNEDY.f 
 (CUNNINGHAM, 1834.) 
 
 MOSSGIEL, 3</ March 1786. 
 
 SIR, I have done myself the pleasure of complying 
 with your request in sending you my Cottager. If you 
 have a leisure minute I should be glad you would copy 
 it, and return me either the original or the transcript. 
 
 'Tis a pity that the whole of this letter is not Driven. G. G. 
 
 t This gentleman, an intimate friend of Gavin Hamilton, was then Factor at 
 Dumfries House, and subsequently Factor to the Earl of Breadalbane. He died 
 in 1812, aged 55 ; so that when he was entrusted with a perusal of the poet's only 
 copy of the Cotter's Saturday Night, he was quite a young man, senior of Burns 
 by only two years.
 
 ajT. 28.] PROPOSALS TO PUBLISH. 385 
 
 as I have not a copy of it by me, and I have a friend 
 who wishes to see it, 
 
 Now Kennedy, if foot or horse 
 E'er bring you in by Mauchline Corse, &c. 
 
 See p. 256, supra. 
 
 ROB*. BuRNESS. 
 
 QTO MR. ROBERT MUIR, KILMARNOCK.* 
 (CUNNINGHAM, 1834.) 
 
 MOSSGIEI/, zoth March, 1786. 
 
 DEAR SIR, I am heartily sorry I had not the pleas- 
 ure of seeing you as you returned through Mauchline ; 
 but as I was engaged, I could not be in town before 
 the evening. 
 
 I here enclose you my "Scotch Drink," and "may 
 
 the follow with a blessing for your edification." 
 
 I hope, some time before we hear the gowk, to have 
 the pleasure of seeing you in Kilmarnock, when I in- 
 tend to have a gill between us in a mutchkin-stoup, 
 which will be a great comfort and consolation to, 
 Dear Sir, your humble Servant, 
 
 ROBT. BURNES& 
 
 0)TO ROBERT AIKEN, ESQ., AYR. 
 (CUNNINGHAM, 1834.) 
 
 MOSSGIEI,, ^d April 
 
 DEAR SIR, I received your kind letter with doubiv 
 
 pleasure, on account of the second flattering instance 
 
 * This gentleman's name is inserted as a subscriber for forty copies of the first 
 Edinburgh edition of our poet's works. He was a wine-merchant of Kilmarnock, 
 and owner of a small estate there, called Loanfoot, which however was burdened 
 with bonds. He died on 22d April 1788, just six days after the registration of the 
 deed which discharged the property from its debt. Being a bachelor, his only 
 sister, Agnes Muir or Smith, wife of Wm. Smith, merchant, Kilmarnock, suc- 
 ceeded to Ivoanfoot. It was afterwards sold to the Duchess of Portland. 
 
 L Y
 
 386 CORRESPONDENCE. [17% 
 
 of Mrs. C.'s notice and approbation. I assure you, I 
 "Turn out the brunt side o' my shin,' brent or brand 
 
 as the famous Ramsay, of jingling memory, says, of 
 such a patroness. Present her my most grateful ac- 
 knowledgments, in your very best manner of telling 
 truth. I have inscribed the following stanza on the 
 blank-leaf of Miss More's works : 
 
 Thou flattering mark of friendship kind. 
 
 See p. 261, supra. 
 
 My proposals for publishing I am just going to send 
 to the press. I expect to hear from you by the first 
 opportunity. I am ever, Dear Sir, yours, 
 
 ROB*. BURNESS. 
 
 Mr Robert Aiken, writer in Ayr, was the procurator who so 
 ably defended Mr Gavin Hamilton before the Presbytery in the 
 persecuting proceedings against him at instance of the Rev. 
 Wm. Auld and "Holy Willie." (See p. 91, supra.) 
 
 The next letter in order of date is a very important one, as 
 marking a painful crisis in the story of the poet's intercourse 
 with Jean Armour. It was first published by Cunningham, 
 who has noted that the address is wanting on the original 
 letter, and that from internal evidence only it is supposed to 
 have been written to 
 
 OJOHN BALLANTINE, ESQ., BANKER, AYR. 
 (CUNNINGHAM, 1834.) 
 
 [About I4/A April 1786.] 
 
 HONORED SIR, My proposals came to hand last 
 night, and knowing that you would wish to have it 
 in your power to do me a service as early as any body, 
 I enclose you half a sheet of them. I must consult 
 you, first opportunity, on the propriety of sending my 
 quondam friend, Mr. Aiken, a copy. If he is now re-
 
 Jfff. 28.] ORIGINAL PROSPECTUS. 38? 
 
 conciled to my character as an honest man, I would 
 do it with all my soul ; but I would not be beholden 
 to the noblest being ever God created, if he imagined 
 me to be a rascal. Apropos, old Mr. Armour prevailed 
 with him to mutilate that unlucky paper yesterday. 
 Would you believe it? though I had not a hope, nor 
 even a wish to make her mine after her conduct ; yet 
 when he told me the names were cut out of the paper, 
 my heart died within me, and he cut my veins with 
 the news.* Perdition seize her falsehood ! 
 
 ROB*. BURNS. 
 
 One copy of the poet's printed "proposals for publishing," 
 referred to in the foregoing letter, is known to have been pre- 
 served. In 1871, J. B. Greenshields, Esq., of Kerse, Ivesmaha- 
 gow, notified in a Glasgow newspaper that he was the fortu- 
 nate possessor of that unique relic, a copy of which we here 
 annex. Appended to it, in MS. are the signatures of sixteen 
 subscribers, of what district does not appear. The fifteenth 
 name that of " Wm. Lorrimer" is scored through, and the 
 following remark attached " Copy sent per Charles Crichton 
 the blockhead refused it." 
 
 April I4/A, 1786. 
 
 PROPOSALS FOR PUBLISHING BY SUBSCRIPTION, 
 SCOTTISH POEMS BY ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 The work to be elegantly printed, in one volume octavo. Price, stitched, Three 
 Shillings. As the Author has not the most distant mercenary view in publish- 
 ing, as soon as so many Subscribers appear as will defray the necessary expense, 
 the work will be sent to the press. 
 
 " Set out the brunt^ side of your shin, brent 
 
 For pride in poets is nae sin: 
 Glory's the prize for which they tin, 
 
 And Fame's their joe ; 
 And wha blows best his horn shall win, 
 And wherefore no?" 
 
 Allan Ramsay. 
 
 * Mr. Aiken acted as legal agent for Mr. Armour, in the matter between him 
 and the poet. J. H. 
 
 t Brunt (as well as its forms brent and brant) is from the same root as German 
 brennan, to burn, and means primarily burnished like newly-minted coin. Brant 
 new or brent new (English brand new) is a common expression for quite new. 
 Brunt as used here has its secondary meaning of best-looking. J. H,
 
 388 
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 We undersubscribers engage to take the above-mentioned work, on the condi 
 tions specified. 
 
 (Here follow Subscriber's names in manuscript.) 
 
 William Murray, one copy, 
 R. Thomson, i copy, 
 James Hall, one copy, 
 Gavin Stewart, one copy, 
 John Hasting, one copy, 
 William Johnston, 3 coppies, 
 James Ingles, one copy, 
 John Bos well, one coppie, 
 Gavin Geddes, two coppies, 
 Geo. Howitson, one copy. 
 
 Colin M'Dougall, one coppy, 
 Charles Howitson, one copy 
 William M'Call, one copy, 
 
 (Sent per Mr. Dun.) 
 William Temple ton, one coppy, 
 William L,orrimer, (copy sent per 
 
 Charles Crichton the blockhead 
 
 refused it), 
 John Merry, two coppies. 
 
 TO MR. M'WHINNIE, WRITER, AYR. 
 (CROMEK, 1808.) 
 
 [MossGiEL, 17 'th April 1786.] 
 
 It is injuring some hearts, those that elegantly bear 
 the impression of the good Creator, to say to them 
 you give them the trouble of obliging a friend ; for 
 this reason, I only tell you that I gratify my own feel- 
 ings in requesting your friendly offices with respect to 
 the enclosed, because I know it will gratify yours to 
 assist me in it to the utmost of your power. 
 
 I have sent you four copies, as I have no less than 
 eight dozen, which is a great deal more than I shall 
 ever need. 
 
 Be sure to remember a poor poet militant in your 
 prayers. He looks forward with fear and trembling to 
 that, to him, important moment which stamps the die 
 with with with, perhaps the eternal disgrace of, my 
 dear Sir, your humble, afflicted, tormented, 
 
 ROB*. BURNS,
 
 J. 28.1 MR. JOHN KENNEDY. 389 
 
 (*) TO MR. JOHN KENNEDY. 
 
 (CUNNINGHAM, 1834.) 
 
 [MOSSGIEI,, "iioth April 1786.] 
 
 SIR, By some neglect in Mr. Hamilton, I did not 
 hear of your kind request for a subscription paper till 
 this day. I will not attempt any acknowledgement 
 for this, nor the manner in which I see your name in 
 Mr Hamilton's Subscription-list. Allow me only to 
 say, Sir, I feel the weight of the debt. 
 
 I have here likewise enclosed a small piece, the very 
 latest of my productions. I am a good deal pleased 
 with some sentiments myself, as they are just the native 
 querulous feelings of a heart which, as the elegantly 
 melting Gray says "melancholy has marked for her 
 owu." 
 
 Our race comes on apace that much expected scene 
 of revelry and mirth ; but to me it brings no joy equal 
 to that meeting with you with which you last flattered 
 the expectation of, Sir, your indebted Servant, 
 
 ROB*. BURNS. 
 
 Enclosed in this letter was the author's poem " To a Moun- 
 tain Daisy. On turning one down with the plough in April 
 1786;" but here inscribed under the title, "THE Go WAN." 
 
 " Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flower, 
 Thou's met me in an evil hour," &c., see page 275 supra,. 
 
 On the subject of the breach between the poet and his pri- 
 vately espoused ' Bonie Jean,' with its effects upon his mind 
 and sentiments, the reader is referred to the series of poetical 
 pieces in this Volume from p. 273 to p. 290. In the following 
 letter to Mr. John Arnot, which we here present, Burns treats 
 the whole matter in a surprisingly frolicsome humor, approach- 
 ing even to the burlesque.
 
 390 CORRESPONDENCE. [1786. 
 
 (*)TO JOHN ARNOT OF DAI.QUATS- 
 WOOD, ESQ., 
 
 INCITING A SUBSCRIPTION-BIU, FOR MY FIRST EDITION, 
 
 WHICH WAS PRINTED AT KILMARNOCK. 
 
 (DOUGLAS, 1877.) 
 
 [April 1786.] 
 
 SIR, I have long wished for some kind of claim 
 to the honor of your acquaintance, and since it is out 
 of my power to make that claim by the least service 
 of mine to you, I shall do it by asking a friendly 
 office of you to me. I should be much hurt, Sir, if 
 any one should view my poor Parnassian Pegasus in 
 the light of a spur-galled Hack, and think that I wish 
 to make a shilling or two by him. I spurn the 
 thought. 
 
 It may do maun do, Sir, wi* them wha 
 Maun please the great folk for a wame-fou ; 
 For me, sae laigh I need na bow, 
 For, Lord be thank.it ! I can plough : 
 And when I downa yoke a naig, 
 Then, Lord be thankit ! I can beg. 
 
 You will then, I hope Sir, forgive my troubling you 
 with the inclosed, and spare a poor heart-crushed devil 
 a world of apologies a business he is very unfit for 
 at any time ; but at present, widowed as he is of every 
 woman-giving comfort, he is utterly incapable of. Sad 
 and grievous of late, Sir, has been my tribulation, 
 and many and piercing my sorrows ; and had it not 
 been for the loss the world would have sustained in 
 losing so great a poet, I had, ere now, done as a much 
 wiser man, the famous Achitophel of long-headed 
 memory did before me, when "he went home and set 
 his house in order." I have lost, Sir, that dearest 
 earthly treasure, that greatest blessing here below, that
 
 2EJT. 28.] STORY OP JEAN. 391 
 
 last, best gift which completed Adam's happiness in 
 the garden of bliss, I have lost I have lost my 
 trembling hand refuses its office, the frighted ink re- 
 coils up the quill Tell it not in Gath I have lost 
 a a a wife ! 
 
 Fairest of God's creation, last and best ! 
 Now art thou lost. 
 
 You have doubtless, Sir, heard my story, heard it 
 with all its exaggerations ; but as my actions, and my 
 motives for action, are peculiarly like myself, and that 
 is peculiarly like nobody else, I shall just beg a leisure- 
 moment and a spare tear of you, until I tell my own 
 story my own way. 
 
 I have been all my life, Sir, one of the rueful-look- 
 ing, long-visaged sons of Disappointment. A damned 
 star has always kept my zenith, and shed its baleful 
 influence, in that emphatic curse of the Prophet " And 
 behold whatsoever he doth, it shall not prosper!" I 
 rarely hit where I aim : and if I want anything, I am 
 almost sure never to find it where I seek it. For in- 
 stance, if my penknife is needed, I pull out twenty 
 things a plough-wedge, a horse nail, an old letter, or 
 a tattered rhyme, in short everything but my pen- 
 knife ; and that, at last, after a painful, fruitless search, 
 will be found in the unsuspected corner of an unsus- 
 pected pocket, as if on purpose thrust out of the way. 
 Still, Sir, I had long had a wishing eye to that ines- 
 timable blessing, a wife. My mouth watered deli- 
 ciously, to see a young fellow, after a few idle, 
 common-place stories from a gentleman in black, strip 
 and go to bed with a young girl, and no one durst 
 say black was his eye ; while I, for just doing the 
 same thing, only wanting that ceremony, am made a 
 Sunday's laughing stock, and abused like a pick-pocket. 
 I was well aware though, that if my ill-starred fortune
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. [1786. 
 
 got the least hint of my connubial wish, my schemes 
 would go to nothing. To prevent this, I determined 
 to take my measures with such thought and fore- 
 thought, such a caution and precaution, that all the 
 malignant planets in the Hemisphere should be unable 
 to blight my designs. Not content with, to use the 
 words of the celebrated Westminster Divines, "The 
 outward and ordinary means ' ' I left no stone unturned, 
 sounded every unfathomed depth ; stopped up every 
 hole and bore of an objection ; but, how shall I tell 
 it ! notwithstanding all this turning of stones, stopping 
 of bores, etc. whilst I, with secret pleasure, marked 
 my project swelling to the proper crisis, and was 
 singing Te Deum in my own fancy ; or, to change 
 the metaphor, whilst I was vigorously pressing on the 
 siege ; had carried the counter-scarp, and made a prac- 
 ticable breach behind the curtain in the gorge of the 
 very principal bastion ; nay, having mastered the 
 covered way, I had found means to slip a choice 
 detachment into the very citadel ; while I had nothing 
 less in view than displaying my victorious banners on 
 the top of the walls Heaven and Earth must I 
 "remember" ! my damned star wheeled about to the 
 zenith, by whose baleful rays Fortune took the alarm, 
 and pouring in her forces on all quarters, front, flank, 
 and rear, I was utterly routed, my baggage lost, my 
 military chest in the hands of the enemy ; and your 
 poor devil of a humble servant, commander-in-chief 
 forsooth, was obliged to scamper away, without either 
 arms or honors of war, except his bare bayonet and 
 cartridge-pouch ; nor in all probability had he escaped 
 even with them, had he not made a shift to hide 
 them under the lap of his military cloak. 
 
 In short, Pharaoh at the Red Sea, Darius at Arbela, 
 Pompey at Pharsalia, Edward at Bannockburn, Charles 
 at Pultaway, Burgoyne at Saratoga no Prince, Poten- 
 tate, or Commander of ancient or modern unfortunate
 
 T. 28.] STORY OF JEAN. 393 
 
 memory ever got a more shameful or more total 
 
 defeat 
 
 " O horrible ! O horrible ! most horrible ! " 
 
 How I bore this, can only be conceived. All powers 
 of recital labor far, far behind. There is a pretty large 
 portion of bedlam in the composition of a poet at any 
 time ; but on this occasion I was nine parts and nine 
 tenths, out of ten, stark staring mad. At first, I was 
 fixed in stuporific insensibility, silent, sullen, staring 
 like Lot's wife besaltified in the plains of Gomorha. 
 But my second paroxysm chiefly beggars description. 
 The rifted northern ocean when returning suns dissolve 
 the chains of winter, and loosening precipices of long 
 accumulated ice tempest with hideous crash the foam- 
 ing Deep images like these may give some faint 
 shadow of what was the situation of my bosom. My 
 chained faculties broke loose, my maddening passions, 
 roused to tenfold fury, bore over their banks with 
 impetuous, resistless force, carrying every check and 
 principle before them. Counsel, was an unheeded call 
 to the passing hurricane ; Reason, a screaming elk in 
 the vortex of Moskoestrom ; and Religion, a feebly- 
 struggling beaver down the roarings of Niagara. I 
 reprobated the first moment of my existence ; execrated 
 Adam's folly-infatuated wish for that goodly-looking, 
 but poison-breathing gift, which had ruined him, and 
 undone me ; and called on the womb of uncreated 
 night to close over me and all my sorrows. 
 
 A storm naturally overblows itself. My spent pas- 
 sions gradually sank into a lurid calm ; and by 
 degrees I have subsided into the time-settled sorrow of 
 the sable widower, who, wiping away the decent tear, 
 lifts up his grief- worn eye to look for another wife. 
 
 " Such is the state of man ; to-day he buds 
 His tender leaves of hope ; to-morrow blossoms, 
 And bears his blushing honors thick upon him ; 
 The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, 
 And nips his root, and then he falls as I do."
 
 394 CORRESPONDENCE. [1786. 
 
 Such, Sir, has been this fatal era of my life. "And 
 it came to pass, that when I looked for sweet, behold 
 bitter ; and for light, behold darkness. ' ' 
 
 But this is not all. Already the holy beagles, the 
 houghmagandie pack, begin to snuff the scent, and I 
 expect every moment to see them cast off, and hear 
 them after me in full cry ; but as I am an old fox, I 
 shall give them dodging and doubling for it, and by 
 and by, I intend to earth among the mountains of 
 Jamaica. 
 
 I am so struck, on a review, with the impertinent 
 length of this letter, that I shall not increase it with 
 one single word of apology ; but abruptly conclude 
 with assuring you that I am, Sir, Your and Misery's 
 most humble servant, 
 
 ROB T . BURNS. 
 
 The name of the gentleman to whom the foregoing strange 
 epistle is addressed is found in the list of subscribers to the 
 author's edition, Edinburgh 1787. That Burns himself thought 
 well of this voluminous letter is certain from the circumstance 
 that he preserved a copy of it, and several years afterwards 
 was at the pains to transcribe it into the book of his letters 
 collected by him for his friend, Mr. Riddell of Friar's Carse. 
 In that collection it is placed No. 2 in the list, and headed by 
 the following introductory note : 
 
 This was addressed to one of the most accomplished 
 of the sons of men that I ever met with John Arnot 
 of Dalquhatswood in Ayrshire. Alas ! had he been 
 equally prudent ! It is a damning circumstance in hu- 
 man life that prudence, insular and alone, without 
 another virtue, will conduct a man to the most envied 
 eminence in life, while, having every other quality, 
 and wanting that one, which at best is itself but a 
 half virtue, will not save a man from the world's 
 contempt, and real misery perhaps perdition. 
 
 The story of the letter was this. I had got deeply 
 in love with a young fair one, of which proofs were
 
 .T. 28.] EGOTISMS. 395 
 
 every day arising more and more to view. I would 
 gladly have covered my Inamorata from the darts of 
 calumny with the conjugal shield nay, I had actually 
 made up some sort of Wedlock ; but I was at that 
 time deep in the guilt of being unfortunate, for which 
 good and lawful objection, the lady's friends broke all 
 our measures and drove me au desespoir. 
 
 EGOTISMS FROM MY OWN SENSATIONS. 
 
 (CROMEK, 1808.) 
 
 May, 
 
 I don't well know what is the reason of it, but 
 somehow or other though I am, when I have a mind, 
 pretty generally beloved ; yet I never could get the 
 art of commanding respect. I imagine it is owing to 
 my being deficient in what Sterne calls ' ' that under- 
 strapping virtue of discretion. ' ' I am so apt to a lapsus 
 linguce, that I sometimes think the character of a cer- 
 tain great man I have read of somewhere is very much 
 apropos to myself, that he was " a compound of great 
 talents and great folly." 
 
 N.B. To try if I can discover the causes of this 
 wretched infirmity, and, if possible, to mend it 
 
 The preceding remarks are followed by these pieces : 
 
 1. Song " Tho' cruel Fate should bid us part," 
 
 2. Fragment " One night as I did wander," 
 
 3. Song "There was a lad was born in Kyle," 
 
 4. Elegy on the Death of Robert Ruisseaux, 
 
 Pp. 123 to 128, supra
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. [1786 
 
 ( 3 ) TO MR. JOHN KENNEDY, 
 
 ENCIXDSING THE AUTHOR'S "EPISTLE TO JOHN RANKINE," 
 p. 65, SUPRA. 
 
 (CUNNINGHAM, 1834.) 
 
 MOSSGIEL, 17 th May 1786. 
 
 DEAR SIR, I have sent you the above hasty copy as 
 I promised. In about three or four weeks I shall 
 probably set the press a-going. I am much hurried 
 at present, otherwise your diligence, so very friendly 
 in my Subscription, should have a more lengthened 
 acknowledgment from, Dear Sir, your obliged Ser- 
 vant, ROBT. BURNS. 
 
 TO MR. DAVID BRICE, SHOEMAKER, 
 GLASGOW. 
 
 (CROMEK, 1808,* and CUNNINGHAM, 1834.) 
 
 MOSSGIEI,, nth June 1786. 
 
 DEAR BRICE, I received your message by G. Pat- 
 erson, and as I am very throng at present, I just 
 write to let you know that there is such a worthless, 
 rhyming reprobate as your humble servant still in the 
 land of the living, though I can scarcely say in the 
 place of hope. I have no news to tell you that will 
 give me any pleasure to mention, or you to hear. 
 
 Poor ill-advised, ungrateful Armour came home on 
 Friday last. You have heard all the particulars of 
 that affair, and a black affair it is. What she thinks 
 of her conduct now, I don't know ; one thing I do 
 
 * Cromek gave a mere fragment of this letter, which Cunningham afterwards 
 published more completely.
 
 Jfff. 28.] DEAR, UNGRATEFUL JEAN. 397 
 
 know she has made me completely miserable. Never 
 man loved, or rather adored, a woman more than I 
 did her ; and, to confess a truth between you and me, 
 I do still love her to distraction after all, though I 
 won't tell her so if I were to see her, which I don't 
 want to do. My poor dear unfortunate Jean ! how 
 happy have I been in thy arms ! It is not the losing 
 her that makes me so unhappy, but for her sake I 
 feel most severely : I foresee she is in the road to I 
 am afraid eternal ruin. 
 
 May Almighty God forgive her ingratitude and per- 
 jury to me, as I from my very soul forgive her : and 
 may His grace be with her, and bless her in all her 
 future life ! I can have no nearer idea of the place 
 of eternal punishment than what I have felt in my 
 own breast on her account. I have tried often to for- 
 get her : I have run into all kinds of dissipation and 
 riots, mason-meetings, drinking-matches, and other 
 mischief, to drive her out of my head, but all in vain. 
 And now for a grand cure : the ship is on her way 
 home that is to take me out to Jamaica ; and then, 
 farewell dear old Scotland ! and farewell dear, ungrate- 
 ful Jean ! for never, never will I see you more. 
 
 You will have heard that I am going to commence 
 Poet in print ; and to-morrow my works go to the 
 press. I expect it will be a volume of about two 
 hundred pages it is just the last foolish action I intend 
 to do ; and then turn a wise man as fast as possible. 
 Believe me to be, dear Brice, your friend and well- 
 wisher, ROBT. BURNS. 
 
 ( 4 ) TO MR. JAMES BURNESS, WRITER, 
 MONTROSE. 
 (DOUGLAS, 1877.) 
 
 MY DEAR SIR, I wrote you about three half- twelve 
 months ago by post, and I wrote you about a year
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. [1786. 
 
 ago by a private hand, and I have not had the least 
 return from you. I have just half-a-minute to write 
 you by an Aberdeen gentleman of my acquaintance 
 who promises to wait upon you with this on his arri- 
 val, or soon after : I intend to send you a letter ac- 
 companied with a singular curiosity in about five or 
 six weeks hence. I shall then write you more at 
 large ; meanwhile you are just to look on this as a 
 memento me. I hope all friends are well. I am ever, 
 my dear Sir, your affectionate cousin, 
 
 ROBT. BURNESS. 
 MosSGiEio near MAUCHI,INE, \ 
 July 5th, 1786. f 
 
 The poet's holograph of this note is in his monument at 
 Edinburgh. The "singular curiosity " here referred to means 
 a copy of the first edition of the author's poems, then at the 
 press. The reader will notice that although Burns had, some 
 three months previously, ceased to write his name, as in two 
 syllables, he here returns to the old mode of spelling, in def- 
 erence to his correspondent. 
 
 TO MR. JOHN RICHMOND, EDINBURGH. 
 
 (HOGG AND MOTHERWELL, 1835.) 
 
 MOSSGIEL, <)th July 1786. 
 
 MY DEAR FRIEND, With the sincerest grief I read 
 your letter. You are truly a son of misfortune. I 
 shall be extremely anxious to hear from you how your 
 health goes on ; if it is any way re-establishing, or if 
 Leith promises well : in short, how you feel in the 
 inner man. 
 
 No news worth anything ; only godly Bryan was in 
 the Inquisition yesterday, and half the countryside as 
 witnesses against him. He still stands out steady and 
 denying ; but proof was led yesternight of circum- 
 stances highly suspicious, almost de facto : one of the
 
 ^P. -'8.J THE COURT OF EQUITY. 399 
 
 girls made oath that she upon a time rashly entered 
 the house (to speak in your cant) ' ' in the hour of 
 cause." * 
 
 I have waited on Armour since her return home ; 
 not from the least view of reconciliation, but merely 
 to ask for her health, and to you I will confess it, 
 from a foolish hankering fondness, very ill placed in- 
 deed. The mother forbade me the house, nor did Jean 
 show that penitence that might have been expected. 
 However the priest, I am informed, will give me a cer- 
 tificate as a single man, if I comply with the rules 
 of the church, which for that very reason I intend to 
 do. 
 
 I am going to put on sackcloth and ashes this day. 
 I am indulged so far as to appear in my own seat. 
 Peccavi, pater, miserere mei. My book will be ready 
 in a fortnight. If you have any subscribers, return 
 them by Connell. The Lord stand with the righteous ; 
 amen, amen. R. B. 
 
 NOTE : We had determined, when we treated of the "Court of 
 Equity" at page 156 supra, to have entirely left out the "min- 
 utes " which exist in Burns's own handwriting in the British 
 Museum, Egerton MSS. 1656, folio 8. We have, however, now 
 determined to present it to the public in such a form as will not 
 be offensive in family circles. We may say for those who are cu- 
 rious in such matters that the whole performance (and especially 
 the parts left out) is simply silly, and altogether unworthy the 
 genius of Burns ; but as it is frequently referred to in this edition 
 of his works, we think that the abridgement which we here give 
 will be satisfactory. It has never before appeared in print in any 
 form, and as it is the only authenticated production of Burns 
 which would have been left out had we omitted it, we think this 
 
 * This paragraph Dr. Chambers has fastidiously omitted. The " Inquisition " 
 here alluded to was probably the " Court of Equity" held within the house 
 of John Dow, vintner, some account of which is given at p. 156, supra. John 
 Richmond had formerly acted as "Clerk of Court," and hence the reason 
 < "godly Bryan's" delinquency being communicated to him.
 
 400 THE COURT OF EQUITY. [17861 
 
 an additional reason for giving it place in our COMPLETE EDI 
 TION of his works. J. H. 
 
 THE COURT OF EQUITY. 
 
 In Truth and Honor's name, Amen 
 Know all men by these presents plain. 
 
 This twalt o' May, at Mauchline given ; 
 The year 'tween eighty-five an' seven ; 
 We 
 
 As per extractum from each Session ; 
 And by our Brethren constituted, 
 A Court of Equity deputed, 
 With special authoris'd direction, 
 To take beneath our strict protection. 
 
 We take cognisance there anent, 
 
 The proper Judges competent. 
 
 First, Poet Burns, he takes the Chair : 
 
 Allow' d by all, his title's fair; 
 
 And past nem. con. without dissension, 
 
 He has a duplicate pretension. 
 
 The second Smith, our worthy Fiscal, 
 
 To cowe each pertinacious rascal ; 
 
 In this, as ev'ry other state, 
 
 His merit is conspicuous great. 
 
 Richmond the third, our trusty Clerk, 
 
 Our Minutes regular to mark ; 
 
 And sit dispenser of the law 
 
 In absence of the former twa. 
 
 The fourth, our Messenger at arms, 
 
 When failing all the milder terms, 
 
 Hunter a hearty willing Brother, 
 
 Weel skill'd in dead an' living leather. 
 
 Without Preamble less or more said, 
 We body politic aforesaid, 
 With legal, due whereas, and wherefore. 
 We are appointed here to care for 
 The int' rests of our Constituents, 
 And punish contraveening truants ; 
 
 * Eight lines omitted here referring to village gossip and scandaL 
 t Two lines omitted.
 
 28.] THE COURT OF EQUITY. 401 
 
 Whereas, Our Fiscal by Petition 
 Informs us there is strong suspicion 
 You, Coachman Dow, and Clockie Brown 
 Baith resident ers in this town, 
 In other words, You, Jock and Sandie 
 
 Then Brother Dow, if you're asham'd 
 In such a quorum to be named, 
 Your conduct much is to be blam'd ; 
 See ev'n himsel, there's godly Bryan, 
 The auld whatreck he has been tryin'. 
 When such as he put to their han', 
 What man on character need stan' t 
 Then Brother dear lift up your brow, 
 And like yoursel, the truth avow ; 
 Erect a dauntless face upon it, 
 An' say, ' ' I am the man has done it ; 
 
 Then Brown and Dow above-design' d, 
 For clagsj an' clauses there subjoin'd, 
 We, Court aforesaid, cite & summon, 
 That on the fourth o' June incomin, 
 The hour o' Cause, in our Court-ha* 
 At Whiteford's Arms, Ye answer I/aw. 
 
 But, as reluctantly we punish, 
 An' rather, mildly would admonish ; 
 Since Better Punishment prevented, 
 Than Obstinacy fair repented 
 
 Then, for that ancient Secret's sake, 
 You have the honor to partake ; 
 An' for that noble Badge you wear, 
 You, Sandie Dow our Brother dear, 
 We give you as a Man an' Mason, 
 This private, sober, friendly lesson. 
 
 The rope they round the pump shall tak 
 An' tye your hans behint your back ; 
 
 * Twenty-five lines omitted, describing the charge against Brown, the dodo 
 maker. 
 
 t Thirty-one lines omitted, containing charge against Coachman Dow. 
 t Impeachments, a Scotch legal term. 
 I Two lines omitted. 
 
 I. Z
 
 402 THE COURT OF EQUITY. [1786. 
 
 Wi' just an ell o' string allow' d, 
 To jink an' hide you frae th' crowd. 
 There he shall stan', a legal seisure, 
 During said Maggie Mitchel's pleasure; 
 So be, her pleasure dinna pass 
 Seven turnings of a half-hour glass ; 
 Nor shall it in her pleasure be 
 To lowse you out in less than three. 
 
 This, our futurum esse Decreet, 
 We mean it not to keep a secret: 
 But in Our summons here insert it, 
 And whoso dares, may controvert it, 
 
 This, mark'd before the date and place is : 
 Subsign : urn est per Burns the Preses. 
 
 L. S. R 
 
 This Summons & the Signet mark 
 Extractum est per Richmond, Clerk. 
 
 Richmond* 
 
 At Mauchline, twenty-fifth of May, 
 About the twalt hour o' the day, 
 You two, in propria persona, 
 Before design 'd Sandie & Johnie, 
 This summons legally have got, 
 As vide Witness underwrote ; 
 Within the house of John Dow, Vinter 
 Nunc facio hoc 
 
 Gullelmus Hunter, 
 
 END OF VOLUME L
 
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