ECLECTIC ENGLISH CLASSICS 
 
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 SELECTIONS 
 
 FROM THE POEMS OF 
 
 ROBERT BURNS 
 
 { ^RICAN • BOOK • COMPANY 
 YORK- CINCINNATI • CHICAGO 
 
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 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 Chap....'.— Copyright No, 
 
 Shelf.^.\/..ffc: 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
PxOd^A/t (/^^^nj. 
 
ECLECTIC ENGLISH CLASSICS 
 
 SELECTIONS 
 
 FROM THE POEMS OF 
 
 ROBERT BURNS 
 
 EDITED BY W. H. VENABLE, LL.D. 
 
 OF THE WALNUT HILLS HIGH SCHOOL, CINCINNATI 
 
 Tvvo wfies Recti vEt> 
 
 NEW YORK • : • CINCINNATI • : • CHICAGO 
 
 AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY 
 
 1898 
 
 5 
 
V^7\i 
 
 Copyright, 1898, by 
 American Book Company. 
 
 BURNS 
 
 w. p. I 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Introduction 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 . 7 
 
 Chronological Outline. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • 14 
 
 The Scottish Dialect . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • 15 
 
 The Cotter's Saturday Night . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 19 
 
 Tam o' Shanter .... 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • 30 
 
 Man was Made to Mourn . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 40 
 
 Banxockburn 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 45 
 
 Will Ye Go to the Indies, my Mary 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 47 
 
 Highland Mary .... 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 49 
 
 To Mary in Heaven 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 51 
 
 A ETON Water 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 53 
 
 Oh, Wert Thou in the Cauld Blast 
 
 
 
 )* 
 
 
 
 55 
 
 Of a' the Airts 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 56 
 
 Mary Morison .... 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 57 
 
 A Red, Red Rose .... 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 59 
 
 My Nannie's A\va .... 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 60 
 
 The Banks o' Doon 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 61 
 
 John Anderson my Jo . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 62 
 
 My Heart's in the Highlands . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 63 
 
 Duncan Gray 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 64 
 
 Tam Glen 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 66 
 
 AuLD Lang Syne .... 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 68 
 
 Sonnet 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 70 
 
 To A Mouse 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 71 
 
 To A Mountain Daisy . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 73 
 
 5 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
6 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A Winter Night 76 
 
 Contented wi' Little 78 
 
 A Bard's Epitaph 79 
 
 For a' That and a' That 81 
 
 The Plowman Poet 83 
 
 Heart's Ease 84 
 
 BuRNs's Muse 84 
 
 Nature's Fire 84 
 
 Just for Fun 85 
 
 Religion, True and False 85 
 
 Nature's Poet 86 
 
 As Others See Us 86 
 
 Tent It 87 
 
 Mend your Ways . 87 
 
 Judge Kindly 87 
 
 Advice to Youth 88 
 
 Glossary 91 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 In the character of Robert Burns there is much to love and 
 to honor, and much to pity and to blame. His genius was rec- 
 ognized even during his hfe, and it made the Ayrshire farmer 
 welcome in the highest Edinburgh society. But his social dis- 
 position, and the very love in which he was held among the peo- 
 ple, led him into all kinds of excesses and dissipations. 
 
 William Burnes,i the father of the poet, was an honest, hard- 
 working farmer, of an intelHgence superior to the average of his 
 class. He was a man of strong rehgious convictions, and was 
 held in the highest esteem and reverence by his son, who honors 
 his memory in that beautiful picture of ideal domestic peasant life, 
 ''The Cotter's Saturday Night." 
 
 Robert Burns was born in 1759, in a humble two-roomed cot- 
 tage on the banks of the Doon, near the town of Ayr— 
 
 '' Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a town surpasses, 
 For honest men and bonie lasses." 
 
 His mother, and an old woman named Janet Wilson, fed his 
 youthful imagination with Scotch ballads and legends and an 
 
 1 The family name was so spelled until the publication of the poet's first 
 volume in 1786, 
 
 7 
 
8 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 inexhaustible store of tales of the marvelous and supernatural, all 
 of which fired his fancy and lingered in his memory, to furnish 
 material in later years for many of his best poems. WiUiam 
 Wallace was the hero of his childhood, and his story poured a 
 tide of Scottish prejudice into his veins, which, he said, would 
 boil there till the flood gates of life shut in eternal rest. 
 
 The boy received the most meager education, attending school 
 for a few months, sometimes for only a week, at a time. This 
 instruction was supplemented by the teachings of his father at 
 home, and by the reading of whatever books he could lay hands 
 upon. Among these his favorites were a volume of the " Specta- 
 tor," a Hfe of Hannibal and one of Wallace, Locke " On the 
 Human Understanding," Taylor's " Doctrine of Original Sin," 
 Mackenzie's " Man of Feeling," and the poems of Milton, Shake- 
 speare, Pope, Young, and Thomson. 
 
 His very childhood's life was one of toil, and by the time he 
 was fifteen years of age he did the largest portion of the work on 
 the farm. It was about this time that his first love aflPair inspired 
 his first attempt at poetical expression, and he wrote the httle 
 song beginning : 
 
 '^ Oh, once I lov'd a bonie lass." 
 
 From this time on, verse-making and love-making were his con- 
 stant pleasure, his relaxation from drudgery. He said of him- 
 self : " My heart was completely tinder and was eternally hghted 
 up by some goddess or other." 
 
 The hardships of the family ever increased ; the wolf was 
 always howling at the door ; the death of the father, in 1784, was 
 followed by losses ""of the crops. The miseries of the unceasing 
 struggle for mere existence had their almost inevitable effect upon 
 
IN TR OD UC riON. 9 
 
 the mind of the young man. Relief was sought in extreme free- 
 dom of thought and action. ReHgion became a mockery ; sobri- 
 ety gave way to debauchery and sensuah"ty. The genius of the 
 poet, however, shone with most brilUant luster during this period 
 of the man's debasement. The years 1 784-1 786 were the great 
 creative years of his life. 
 
 Taine, the French critic, whose sympathies are so much with 
 Burns that he inclines to extenuate all his shortcomings, thus 
 explains the poet's attitude toward the world : " By night in his 
 cold little room, by day while whistling at the plow, he invented 
 forms and ideas. We must think of this in order to understand 
 his miseries and his revolt. We must think that the man in whom 
 these great ideas were stirring, threshed the corn, cleaned his cows, 
 went out to dig turf, waded in the muddy snow, and dreaded to 
 come home and find the bailiffs to carry him off to prison. We 
 must think also that, with the ideas of a thinker, he had the deU- 
 cacies and reveries of a poet." 
 
 Disgusted with all things. Burns determined to leave forever 
 an unappreciative country and seek new fortunes in Jamaica. 
 Hoping to raise funds to pay his passage, he issued a small vol- 
 ume of poems. " It was a delicious idea," he wrote, " that I 
 should be called a clever fellow, even though it should never 
 reach my ears, — a poor negro-driver, or perhaps a victim of 
 that inhospitable clime, and gone to the world of spirits. I was 
 pretty confident that my poems would meet with some applause ; 
 but at the worst, the roar of the Atlantic would deaden the voice 
 of censure." 
 
 Some copies of this little volume found their way to Edinburgh, 
 and, with impetuous change of plans, Burns decided to try his 
 opportunities there. His ride to the capital was one triumphal 
 
I o INTROD UCTION. 
 
 journey. He found himself famous. Crowds gathered at the 
 farmhouse where he spent the night, and again where he stopped 
 for breakfast, and where he lunched ; and enthusiastic admirers 
 greeted him all along the road. He spent two years in Edin- 
 burgh, the friend of the literary, the pet of society, the inspired 
 and witty guest at the tables of the great. True to his creed, " A 
 man's a man for a' that," the peasant poet bore himself with 
 simple dignity in the company of his worldly superiors, never 
 seeming in the least conscious of the unusual in his position 
 among them. 
 
 In 1788 Burns returned to Ayrshire, where he married Jean 
 Armour, and took up his farm life once more, earning an addi- 
 tional pittance from a government position as exciseman. The 
 duties of this office exposed him more than ever to the tempta- 
 tions of conviviality. His biographer, Lockhart, says : " From 
 the castle to the cottage, every door flew open at his approach ; 
 and the old system of hospitality rendered it difficult for the 
 most soberly inclined guest to rise from any man's board in the 
 same trim that he sat down to it. The farmer, if Burns was seen 
 passing, left his reapers until he could persuade the bard that the 
 day was hot enough to demand an extra libation. If he entered 
 an inn at midnight, after all the inmates were in bed, the news of 
 his arrival circulated from cellar to garret, and ere ten minutes 
 had passed the landlord and all his guests were assembled round 
 the fireside, the largest punch bowl was produced, and ' Be ours 
 to-night— who knows what comes to-morrow,' was the language 
 of every eye in the circle that welcomed him." 
 
 The first four years of his married life were probably the hap- 
 piest he had ever spent. His wife loved him with an unwaver- 
 ing devotion ; his pecuniary circumstances were better than they 
 
IN TROD UC TION. 1 1 
 
 had ever been before ; and his personal habits were more vir- 
 tuous. Added to these causes for content was the idolatry in 
 which he was held by his countrymen. "This enthusiastic re- 
 ception of their native poet is certainly a great glory to Scotch- 
 men," says Rossetti. " And any one who is bent upon remem- 
 bering to their discredit that they left the man Burns to live and 
 die an exciseman should bear in mind also that they had already 
 reposited the poet Burns in their heart of hearts, and that at this 
 minute there are probably ten Scotchmen to whom Burns and his 
 work are a breathing and potent reality, for one Englishman to 
 whom Shakespeare is any more than a name." 
 
 The last four years of Burns's life were so filled with shame 
 and distress of every kind that one would be glad to forget them. 
 His health gradually decHned. When he was but thirty-seven 
 years old, the poet wrote his last song, '' Fairest Maid on Devon 
 Banks." In January, 1796, he contracted a rheumatic fever, but 
 would not allow a doctor to be called. " What business has a phy- 
 sician to waste his time over me? " said he. " I am a poor pigeon 
 not worth plucking." He realized that his end was drawing near. 
 " As to my individual self, I am tranquil," he said. " But Burns's 
 poor widow and half a dozen of his dear little ones, — there I am 
 as weak as a woman's tear." 
 
 When, in July, 1796, it became known that Robert Burns was 
 dying, the grief and anxiety of the whole neighborhood — indeed, 
 of all Scotland— were unbounded. Reports of his condition 
 were eagerly sought and passed from house to house. Men 
 meeting in the street stopped to speak of the beloved poet. And 
 when, on the 21st of the month, he breathed his last, the nation 
 mourned and did him reverence. His friend, Mr. Allan Cun- 
 ningham, who witnessed the poet's funeral, thus describes it : 
 
I 2 INTROD UC TION. 
 
 "The multitude who accompanied Burns to the grave might 
 amount to ten or twelve thousand. Not a word was heard. It 
 was an impressive and mournful sight to see men of all ranks and 
 persuasions and opinions mingling as brothers, and stepping side 
 by side down the streets of Dumfries, with the remains of him 
 who had sung of their loves and joys and domestic endearments 
 with a truth and a tenderness which none, perhaps, have since 
 equaled." 
 
 The personal appearance of Robert Burns, when he was in the 
 full vigor of mind and body, was most attractive. He was nearly 
 six feet tall, and of fine physique. His features were extremely 
 pleasing : a broad brow with dark curly hair upon it ; large black 
 eyes which " literally glowed " with feeling; a good nose, and 
 most expressive mouth. Charles Kingsley pays Burns the trib- 
 ute of saying that in personal, manly beauty he was one of the 
 four men of modern times who represent the highest ideal, — 
 Shakespeare, Raphael, Goethe, Burns. 
 
 The poet's mode of composition is interesting. He thought 
 his poems out as he worked, or as he walked in the woods or by 
 the streams. He usually had on hand five or six poems, which 
 he perfected as the mood was with him, setting them aside when- 
 ever his mind felt any weariness. When they were written out, 
 his wife often sang them to some familiar tune, that he might 
 judge of their musical and metrical qualities. " Tam o' Shanter " 
 was an exception to this method of production, being completed 
 in a single day. This popular tale in verse was always regarded 
 by the poet as his masterpiece. Carlyle gives his critical prefer- 
 ence to " The Jolly Beggars," as the most completely artistic of 
 all Burns's works. " The Cotter's Saturday Night " is given first 
 place in this collection, not because it is considered the best, but 
 
IN 7 'A- OD UC 77 ON. 1 3 
 
 because it is very characteristic of the poet's style, showing his 
 love and sympathy for the humble details of the home life of the 
 peasantry, his manner of thought and of expression, his humor, 
 and his reverence. 
 
 The majority of critics and the people at large regard the 
 songs as the most truly inspired of all his writings. "A Scot- 
 tish peasant's life was the meanest and rudest of all lives until 
 Burns became a poet in it and a poet of it." This is, indeed, 
 one of his greatest gifts to literature : he gave permanent form 
 to Scotch life in its own native dialect. His influence dur- 
 ing his hfe and since was widespread. Carlyle, whose essay on 
 Burns is the best that has ever been written, says in his conclud- 
 ing lines : 
 
 " With our readers in general, with men of right feeling any- 
 where, we are not required to plead for Burns. In pitying 
 admiration he lies enshrined in all our hearts, in a far nobler 
 mausoleum than that one of marble ; neither will his works, even 
 as they are, pass away from the memory of men. While the 
 Shakespeares and Miltons roll on like mighty rivers through the 
 country of Thought, bearing fleets of traffickers and assiduous 
 pearl-fishers on their waves, this little Valclusa fountain will also 
 arrest our eye ; for this also is of Nature's own and most cunning 
 workmanship, bursts from the depths of the earth, with a full 
 gushing torrent, into the light of day, and often will the traveler 
 turn aside to drink of its clear waters and muse among its rocks 
 and pines!" 
 
14 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 CHRONOLOGICAL OUTLINE OF BURNS'S LIFE. 
 
 YEAR EVENT BURNS's AGE 
 
 1759, January 25. Born at Doonholm, AUoway, near Ayr. 
 
 1766. Removes to Oliphant Farm 7 
 
 1773. Writes first published poem, " Handsome Nell " . . 14 
 
 1777. Removes to Tarbolton, Lochlea 18 
 
 1784. The poet's father dies 25 
 
 1785. Burns writes "The Cotter's Saturday Night," "Hal- 
 
 loween," " The Jolly Beggars," etc 26 
 
 1786. First edition of his poems, published at Kilmarnock; 
 
 writes " Twa Dogs," "Brigs of Ayr," etc. . . .27 
 
 1786, November, to 1787, April. First visit to Edinburgh. 
 
 1787. Second edition of poems, issued in Edinburgh ... 28 
 
 1787, October, to 1788, March. In Edinburgh. 
 
 1788, March. Leases farm at Ellisland 29 
 
 1788. August. Marries Jean Armour. 
 
 1789. Appointed an exciseman 30 
 
 1790. Writes "Tam o' Shanter" 31 
 
 1 79 1. Gives up farm and removes to Dumfries as excise 
 
 officer 32 
 
 1793. Second Edinburgh edition of his poems 34 
 
 1794. Fourth edition of poems; writes "For a' That and 
 
 a' That" 35 
 
 1796, July 21. Dies 37 
 
INTRODUCTION, 15 
 
 THE SCOTTISH DIALECT. 
 
 The first or Kilmarnock edition of Burns's poems, issued in 
 1 786, was entitled " Poems, Chiefly Scottish." One of the poet's 
 earliest patrons. Dr. James Currie, who edited his countryman's 
 " Works," prefixed to a glossary of Scottish words the following 
 valuable remarks : 
 
 " The ch and gh have always the guttural sound. The sound 
 of the English diphthong 00 is commonly spelled ou. The 
 French u^ a sound which often occurs in the Scottish language, 
 is marked 00 or ui. The a in genuine Scottish words, except 
 when forming a diphthong or followed by an e mute after a single 
 consonant, sounds generally like the broad English a in 'wall.' 
 The Scottish diphthong ae always, and ea very often, sound like 
 the French e mascuhne. The Scottish diphthong ey sounds like 
 the Latin eiT 
 
 To these helpful suggestions the pupil may add the words of 
 a modern Scotch scholar, John Stuart Blackie, who, in a recent 
 "Life of Burns," says: "The Scottish language,— or rather, as 
 we ought to say, the Scottish dialect of our general English 
 tongue,— besides having more of the breath of sentiment about 
 it, is more musical in a technical sense, and, like the Italian, richer 
 in full vocal sounds than the more highly cultivated sister dia- 
 lect. . . . There is hardly a Scottish song of any popularity in 
 which the broad musical a is not dominant. . . . Scotch . . . 
 
1 6 INTROD UC TION. 
 
 bears exactly the same relation to English that Doric Greek did 
 to Attic Greek, and ought to be cultivated for its lyrical excellence 
 as a branch of musical education," 
 
 The student is advised to avail himself, if possible, of an op- 
 portunity to catch the sound, accent, and spirit of Scottish poetry 
 by hearing passages read or recited by a Scotchman, — and every 
 son of old Scotia likes to say or sing the verses of Burns. To 
 those who have no Scotch friend of poetical tastes, a few direc- 
 tions may be welcome as aids toward acquiring a mastery of the 
 Scottish dialect. 
 
 In the first place, attack the seeming difficulties boldly, and 
 they will soon be overcome. This advice applies as well to the 
 reading of old English authors, like Chaucer, whose verse, it may 
 be observed in passing, bears some resemblance to the Scottish, 
 as several philologists have pointed out. 
 
 Every observant reader will notice that many of the peculiar 
 words employed by Scottish writers differ but slightly from cor- 
 responding words of pure English. Who can fail to understand 
 the meaning of Burns when he uses " snaw " for '* snow," " warld " 
 for " world," " luve " for '' love," " brither " for "brother," "Tam" 
 and "Rab" for "Tom" and "Rob"? Closer inspection will 
 detect familiar English words slightly disguised in such forms as 
 " sae " for " so," " ain " for " own," " baith " for " both," " airn " 
 for "iron," "bane" for "bone," "fause" for "false," " hizzy " 
 for " huzzy," " gat " for " got," " smoored " for " smothered," and 
 "bairn" for "child," that is, one "born." The change in form 
 is usually a variation in the vowel of the stem. In many other 
 instances the consonant present in the English form is elided 
 in the Scotch, its place often being supplied by an apostrophe, 
 which may represent one letter or an entire syllable or more. 
 
INTROD UCTION. 1 7 
 
 The final / is silent or wanting in many words, as "a','' "all;" 
 "ba'," "ball;" " ca'," "call;" "ha'," "hall;" " fu' " or "fou," 
 "full;" "pow," "poll;" "how," "hole." The final ^/ is often 
 omitted, as in " ban'," " han'," " men'," " Win'." Other terminal 
 consonants also are dropped for euphony,— thus, "sel" for "self ;" 
 and the inflection -ijig is commonly shortened to -/;/. A little atten- 
 tion will suffice to separate into their component words such con- 
 densed phrases as " o't " for " of it," " I'se " for " I shall," " isna " 
 for "is not," "till't" for "to it," " wadna " for "would not," 
 "dinna" for "do not," and " downa do" for "do not do," i.e., 
 want of power. The diminutive -?>, in such words as "wifie," 
 "giftie," "mousie," " drappie," "beastie," "burdie," though 
 characteristically Scottish, is not strange to English usage. The 
 same may be said in reference to such well-known words as 
 "wee" and "cannie," — they have become Anglicized. 
 
 There are, however, not a few distinctively Scottish words, 
 some of them provincial, which must be recognized as foreigners, 
 but, on that account, representative and specially interesting to 
 become acquainted with. Of this class are the nouns "jo," 
 "kebbuck," " gowan," "lift," " thrave," "coof;" the adjectives 
 "walie," "raploch," "unco," "muckle;" and the verbs "beet," 
 "snool," "spier," and "maun." These words, and others as 
 " quaint and curious," are defined in the Glossary which is placed 
 at the end of this book advisedly in order that the pupil may 
 study the words apart from the text and learii to remember 
 them. For it is only by the study and comparison of words 
 that a student becomes a scholar and grows to enjoy literature, 
 especially poetry. 
 
THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT/ 
 
 INSCRIBED TO R. AIKEN, ESQ. 
 
 " Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, 
 Their homely joys, and destiny obscure ; 
 Nor Grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile, 
 The short and simple annals of the poor." 
 
 Gray. 
 
 My lov'd, my honor'd, much respected friend I^ 
 No mercenary bard his homage pays:^ 
 
 With honest pride I scorn each selfish end, 
 !j My dearest meed a friend's esteem and praise : 
 
 I To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays,* 5 
 
 1 Written at Mossgiel in the winter of 1785. J. L. Robertson says : " The 
 historical value of the poem is at least equal to its poetical merit ; it faithfully 
 describes a phase of peasant life in Scotland which is fast disappearing." 
 " The hint of the plan and title of the poem were taken from Fergusson's 
 Farmer's Ingle" (Gilbert Burns). 
 
 2 Robert Aiken, of Ayr, a solicitor, was one of Burns's friends and patrons. 
 To him Burns addressed several letters, and for his son, Andrew Aiken, wrote 
 the Lines to a Young Friend. 
 
 3 Burns, like Gray, disdained to 
 
 "... heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride 
 With incense kindled at the Muse's flame." 
 
 * Most of Burns's best poetry is written in the Ayrshire dialect. 
 
 19 
 
o ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 The lowly train in life's sequester'd scene ;i 
 
 The native feelings strong, the guileless ways ; 
 What Aiken in a cottage would have been— 
 Ah! tho' his worth unknown, far happier there, I ween.'-^ 
 
 November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh; lo 
 
 The short'ning winter day is near a close ; 
 
 The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh ; 
 The black'ning trains o' craws to their repose : 
 The toil-worn Cotter ^ frae his labor goes, 
 
 This night his weekly moil is at an end, 15 
 
 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 ; 20 
 
 Th' expectant wee things, toddlin, stacher through 
 
 To meet their dad, wi' flichterin noise an' glee. 
 
 His wee bit ingle, blinkin bonihe. 
 His clean hearth-stane, his thrifty wifie's smile, 
 
 The lisping infant prattling on his knee, 21; 
 
 Does a' his weary carking cares ^ beguile. 
 An' makes him quite forget his labor an' his toil. 
 
 Belyve, the elder bairns come drapping in, 
 At service out, amang the farmers roun' ; 
 
 Some ca' the pleugh, some herd, some tentie rin 30 
 
 A cannie errand to a neebor town :^ 
 Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman grown, 
 
 1 " Along the cool, sequestered vale of life " (Gray's Elegy). 
 
 2 Old form for " think " or " imagine." 
 
 3 One who inhabits a cot or cottage dependent on a farm. 
 
 4 " The plowman homeward plods his weary way" (Gray). 
 
 5 " Carking cares " was originally written " kiaugh and care," the word 
 kiaugh " meaning " anxiety " or " cark." 
 
 6 A farm town in the neighborhood. 
 
THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT. 21 
 
 In youthfu' bloom, love sparkling in her e'e, 
 
 Comes hame, perhaps, to shew a braw new gown, 
 Or deposite ^ her sair-won penny-fee, 35 
 
 To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be. 
 
 With joy unfeign'd brothers and sisters meet, 
 An' each for other's weelfare kindly spiers : 
 
 The social hours, swift-wing'd, unnotic'd fleet; 
 
 Each tells the uncos that he sees or hears ; 40 
 
 The parents, partial, eye their hopeful years ; 
 
 Anticipation forward points the view. 
 
 The mother, wi' her needle an' her sheers, 
 
 Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new; 2 
 The father"^ mixes a' wi' admonition due. 45 
 
 Their master's an' their mistress's command, 
 
 The younkers a' are warned to obey ; 
 An' mind their labors wi' an eydent hand, 
 
 An' ne'er, tho' out o' sight, to jauk or play:* 
 
 An' oh! be sure to fear the Lord alway, 50 
 
 "An' mind your duty,^ duly, morn an' night! 
 
 Lest in temptation's path ye gang astray, 
 Implore His counsel and assisting might : 
 They never sought in vain that sought the Lord aright! " ^ 
 
 1 Observe the accent on the last syllable. 
 A famous line. 
 
 3 " Although the Cotter, in the Saturday Night, is an exact copy of my 
 father in his manners* his family devotion, and his exhortations, yet the other 
 parts of the description do not apply to our family " (Gilbert Burns). 
 
 4 " There are who ask not if thine eye 
 Be on them." 
 
 Wordsworth's Ode to Dtdy. 
 
 5 Duty here means devotion to God. " Fear God, and keep his command- 
 ments : for this is the whole duty of man " (Eccl. xii. 13). 
 
 6 " The ^fth and sixth stanzas, and the eighteenth, thrilled with peculiar 
 pleasure through my soul" (Gilbert Burns). 
 
2 2 ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 But hark! a rap comes gently to the door; 55 
 
 Jenny, wha kens the meaning o' the same, 
 Tells how a neebor lad cam o'er the moor, 
 
 To do some errands, and convoy ^ her hame. 
 
 The wily 2 mother sees the conscious flame ^ 
 Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, and flush her cheek ; 60 
 
 Wi' heart-struck,^ anxious care, inquires his name, 
 While Jenny hafllins is afraid to speak ; 
 Weel pleas'd the mother hears, it's nae wild, worthless rake.^ 
 
 Wi' kindly welcome, Jenny brings him ben;^ 
 
 A strappan^ youth; he takes the mother's eye; 65 
 
 Blythe Jenny sees the visit's no ill ta'en ; 
 
 The father cracks of horses, pleughs, and kye.^ 
 The youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi' joy. 
 
 But blate and laithf u', scarce can weel behave ; ^ 
 
 The mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy 70 
 
 What makes the youth sae bashfu' an' sae grave ; 
 Weel pleased to think her bairn's respected like the lave. 
 
 O happy love! where love like this is found! 
 O heartfelt raptures! bliss beyond compare! 
 
 I've paced much this weary mortal round, 75 
 
 And sage experience bids me this declare — 
 ** If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare, 
 
 One cordial in this melancholy vale, 
 
 1 Not " convey." What is a convoy vessel? 
 
 2 " Wily" in what sense? 
 
 3 What is " the conscious flame"? 
 
 4 Observe the strength of this word. 
 
 5 It seems the mother knew the reputation of the "neebor lad." He 
 bore a good " name." 
 
 6 " Ben " here means " into the parlor." 
 
 ■7 A strapper ; the mother admires his looks. 
 8 Is there any wily intent in the father's talk? 
 
 ^ A good descriptive touch. The stanza is shrewdly suggestive of humor, 
 pathos, and anxiety. 
 
THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT 23 
 
 'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair 
 In other's arms breathe out the tender tale, 80 
 
 Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale." ^ 
 
 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? 85 
 
 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 fondhng o'er their child? 
 Then paints the ruin'd maid, and their distraction wild? 2 go 
 
 But now the supper crowns their simple board. 
 
 The halesome parritch, chief of Scotia's food:^ 
 The soupe their only hawkie does afford, 
 
 That 'yont the hallan snugly chows her cood ; 
 
 The dame brings forth in complimental mood, 95 
 
 To grace the lad, her weel-hain'd kebbuck, fell ; 
 
 An' aft he's prest, an' aft he ca's it guid ; 
 The frugal wifie, garrulous, will tell 
 How 'twas a towmond* auld sin' lint was i' the bell.^ 
 
 1 " The hawthorn bush with seats beneath the shade, 
 For talking age and whispering lovers made." 
 
 Goldsmith's Deserted Village. 
 
 2 See Deserted Village, lines 325-336. 
 
 3 The literature of Scotch oatmeal is a curious study. Sydney Smith 
 proposed as a motto for the Edinburgh Review the line: " Tenui musam 
 meditamur avena " (" We cultivate literature on a little oatmeal "). Carlyle 
 described Macaulay as "an honest, good sort of fellow, made out of oatmeal." 
 The postscript to one of Burns's letters to his father is memorable: " My 
 meal is nearly out, but I am going to borrow till I get more." 
 
 4 A year. 
 
 5 " Sin' lint was i' the bell," a beautiful poetic phrase. When does flax 
 bloom in Scotland? 
 
24 ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face loo 
 
 They round the ingle form a circle wide ; 
 The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace. 
 
 The big ha' Bible,i ance his father's pride : 
 
 His bonnet ^ rev'rently is laid aside, 
 His lyart haffets wearing thin an' bare; 105 
 
 Those strains ^ that once did sweet in Zion glide — 
 He wales a portion with judicious care, 
 And " Let us worship God! " he says with solemn air.* 
 
 They chant their artless notes in simple guise ; 
 
 They tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim: no 
 Perhaps Dundee's ^ wild warbling measures rise. 
 
 Or plaintive Martyrs,^ worthy of the name ; 
 
 Or noble Elgin ^ beets the heav'nward flame. 
 The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays : 
 
 Compar'd with these, Itahan trills are tame; 115 
 
 The tickl'd ears no heartfelt raptures raise ; 
 Nae unison hae they with our Creator's praise.^ 
 
 The priesthke father reads the sacred page, "^ 
 How Abram was the friend of God on high ; 
 
 Or Moses bade eternal warfare wage 120 
 
 With Amalek's ungracious progeny ; 
 
 1 The family Bible. 
 
 2 " Bonnet, in older English, as in Scotch still, denoted a man's head cov- 
 ering" (J. W. Hales). 3 The Psalms. 
 
 4 In a letter from Gilbert Burns to Dr. Currie,. in April, 1798, he says: 
 " 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." 
 
 5 Names of psalm tunes once common in the Scottish churches, and still 
 found in most hymn books. 
 
 6 Was Burns right in judging that Italian music is not adapted to purposes 
 of religious worship? Was he unprejudiced? 
 
 7 This stanza gives a fair synopsis of the Old Testament, especially of the 
 more poetical books. 
 
THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT. 25 
 
 Or how the royal bard did groaning He 
 Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire ; 
 
 Or Job's pathetic plaint, and wailing cry ; 
 Or rapt Isaiah's wild seraphic fire; 125 
 
 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; 130 
 
 How His first followers and servants sped ; 
 
 The precepts sage they wrote to many a land : 
 How he, who lone in Patmos banished, 
 
 Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand, 
 And heard great Bab'lon's doom pronounc'd by Heaven's 
 command. 135 
 
 Then kneeling down, to Heaven's Eternal King, 
 The saint, the father, and the husband prays : 
 
 Hope "springs exulting on triumphant wing," 2 
 That thus they all shall meet in future days : 
 There ever bask in uncreated rays,^ 140 
 
 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, 145 
 
 In all the pomp of method, and of art, 
 
 1 In this stanza the poet suggests the salient features of the New Testa- 
 ment. " The priestlike father " selected the sublimest parts of both " vol- 
 umes," the Hebrew and the Christian. 
 
 2 Burns here meant to quote, from Pope's Windsor Forest, a line describ- 
 ing the pheasant, which " mounts exulting on triumphant wings." 
 
 3 Compare Milton's line: " Bright effluence of bright essence increate " 
 (Paradise Lost, Book III. line 6). 
 
26 ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 When men display to congregations wide 
 Devotion's ev'ry grace, except the heart! 
 The Power, incens'd, the pageant will desert, 
 
 The pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole; 150 
 
 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 younghng cottagers retire to rest: 155 
 
 . The parent pair their secret homage pay. 
 
 And proffer up to Heav'n 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, 160 
 
 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,^ 165 
 
 "An honest man's the noblest work of God:"'* 
 
 1 The devotion of the Cotter's family brings to mind Wordsworth's descrip- 
 tion, in The Excursion, of the Wanderer's religious home " among the hills 
 of Athol," Scotland. His parents and " their numerous offspring composed 
 ' A virtuous household, though exceeding poor! 
 Pure livers were they all, austere and grave, 
 And fearing God ; the very children taught 
 Stern self-respect, a reverence for God's Word, 
 And an habitual piety, maintained 
 With strictness scarcely known on English ground."' 
 2 " A simple scene! yet hence 
 
 Britannia sees her solid grandeur rise." 
 
 Thomson's Seasons. 
 3 " Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade; 
 A breath can make them, as a breath has made." 
 
 Goldsmith's Deserted Village. 
 4 From Pope's Essay on Man, Book IV. line 247. 
 
THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NiGHT. 27 
 
 And certes/ in fair virtue's heavenly road, 
 The cottage leaves the palace far behind ;2 
 
 What is a lordling's pomp? a cumbrous load, 
 Disguising oft the wretch of humankind, 170 
 
 Studied in arts of hell, in wickedness refin'd. 
 
 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! 175 
 
 And oh! 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-loved isle. 180 
 
 O Thou! who pour'd the patriotic tide 
 
 That stream'd thro' Wallace's ^ undaunted heart, 
 
 Who dar'd to nobly stem tyrannic pride, 
 Or nobly die— the second glorious part, 
 (The patriot's God, peculiarly thou art, 185 
 
 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 !5 
 
 1 " Certes," certainly; surely. An Old English form, like " ween " and 
 " meed " in the first stanza. Burns was imitating Spenser, who uses many 
 obsolete words. 
 
 2 Is not this a faulty figure? Do cottages and palaces run races? 
 
 3 "O luxury! thou curst by Heaven's decree" (Deserted Village, line 385). 
 
 4 "The first book I met with in my early years, which I perused with 
 pleasure, was The Life of Hannibal ; the next was The History of Sir William 
 Wallace. For several of my earlier years I had few other authors " (Burns). 
 
 5 Read the last twenty lines of Goldsmith's Deserted Village; also the 
 passage from Thomson's Summer, in The Seasons, beginning : 
 
 " O Thou by whose almighty nod the scale 
 Of empire rises, or alternate falls," etc. 
 
28 ROBERT BURNS, 
 
 QUERIES AND SUGGESTIONS. 
 
 Was the choice of the Spenserian stanza for this poem 
 based on good reasons? For what species of poem is this 
 form best suited? Why? Make a hst of noted pieces written 
 in Spenserian stanzas. What is the so-called "Burns stanza"? 
 Are there samples of it in this book? 
 
 Pick out the archaic words in the poem. Explain why Btyns 
 used them. 
 
 Why are only ten of the stanzas in Scottish dialect, and the 
 rest in almost pure English? 
 
 Observe how much Burns was indebted, both for ideas and 
 for modes of expression used in this poem, to Gray, Goldsmith, 
 Pope, Fergusson, and Thomson. Does this imply lack of origi- 
 nality? Was Burns, as a rule, a "bookish" poet? 
 
 Which stanzas are mainly descriptive? which narrative? which 
 moralizing? which patriotic? 
 
 What importance does the poet give to formal acts of de- 
 votion? 
 
 Does the poem teach that poverty is a blessing? Does it 
 teach that riches and rank are unfavorable to high virtue? Did 
 Burns and Goldsmith think alike regarding these things? Were 
 their circumstances similar? 
 
 Imagine the hardships and privations of the Cotter's family 
 in the bleak Scottish chmate in November. Compare the scenes 
 described in stanzas 2, 3, 4, 5, n, with corresponding scenes in 
 modern farm life in the United States. 
 
 Comment on the several characters: the Cotter, his wife, 
 Jenny, and the "blate" youth, "sae bashfu' an' sae grave." 
 
THE COTTER'S SATURDAY N1GH7\ 29 
 
 What "patriots" has Scotland produced? What "patriot 
 bards" besides Burns? Are patriots and poets indeed the "or- 
 nament and guard " of nations ? 
 
 Is "The Cotter's Saturday Night" a very quotable piece? 
 Cull out a few striking passages or lines. 
 
 " Hard must that man's heart have been, and opaque his in- 
 tellect, who, after reading 'The Cotter's Saturday Night,' could 
 have looked with disdainful eyes upon any cottage. Scotland 
 was the first object of the revelation, but after Scotland, man- 
 kind " (Mrs. Oliphant). 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 A TALE.i 
 
 " Of Brownyis and of Bogilis full is this Buke."— Gawin Douglas. 
 
 When chapman billies ^ leave the street,^ 
 
 And drouthy neebors, neebors meet, 
 
 As market days ^ are wearing late, 
 
 An' folk begin to tak the gate ; 
 
 While we sit bousing at the nappy, 5 
 
 An' getting fou and unco happy, 
 
 We think na on the lang Scots miles,^ 
 
 1 " The story is founded on a traditional tale. The leading circumstances 
 of a man riding home very late from Ayr, in a stormy night, his seeing a 
 light in AUoway Kirk, his having the curiosity to look in, his seeing a dance 
 of witches, with the devil playing on the bagpipe to them, the scanty covering 
 of one of the witches, which made him so far forget himself as to cry, ' Weel 
 loupen, short sark!' with the melancholy catastrophe of the piece,— it is all a 
 true story, that can be well attested by many respectable old people in that 
 neighborhood" (Gilbert Burns, the poet's brother). 
 
 The poem was written in 1790, at Ellisland, and was first published in 
 Captain Grose's Antiquities of Scotland. 
 
 " Shanter is a farm in Ayrshire, and its tenant, Douglas Graham, may 
 have been the prototype of Tarn " (J. L. Robertson). 
 
 2 " Here chapman billies tak their stand" (Fergusson). 
 
 3 Road. 
 
 4 Days fixed by law for holding market in a town. 
 
 5 The old Scottish mile was 1,976 yards, equal to 1.123 English miles. 
 
 30 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 3 1 
 
 The mosses, waters, slaps, and styles, 
 
 That lie between us and our hame, 
 
 Whare sits our sulky sullen dame, lo 
 
 Gathering her brows like gathering storm, 
 
 Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.^ 
 
 This truth fand honest Tarn o' Shanter, 
 As he frae Ayr ^ ae night did canter, 
 (Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a town surpasses, 15 
 
 For honest men and bonie lasses.) 
 
 O Tam! hadst thou but been sae wise, 
 As ta'en thy ain wife Kate's advice!^ 
 She tauld thee weel thou wast a skellum,^ 
 A blethering, blustering, drunken blellum; 20 
 
 That frae November till October, 
 Ae market day thou wasna sober ; 
 That ilka melder, wi' the miller. 
 Thou sat as lang as thou had siller ; 
 That ev'ry naig was ca'd a shoe on, 25 
 
 The smith and thee gat roaring fou on ; 
 That at the Lord's house, ev'n on Sunday, 
 Thou drank wi' Kirkton Jean till Monday.^ 
 She prophesied that, late or soon, 
 Thou would be found deep drown'd in Doon ; 30 
 Or catch'd wi' warlocks in the mirk 
 By AUoway's auld haunted kirk.^ 
 
 Ah, gentle dames! it gars me greet 
 To think how monie counsels sweet, 
 
 1 Like Rip Van Winkle's dame? 
 
 2 Find "auld Ayr" on the map of Scotland. Many of Burns's poems 
 refer to the town and its vicinity. This poem is in Ayrshire dialect. 
 
 3 Kate was something of a virago, but she had abundant provocation. 
 
 4 Compare " skellum " with the German ScJielm. 
 
 5 " In Scotland the village where a parish church is situated is usually called 
 the kirkton. A certain Jean Kennedy, who kept a reputable public house in 
 the village of Kirkaswald, is here alluded to " (Allan Cunningham). 
 
 6 The Scotch and northern English form of the word " church." 
 
32 ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 How monie lengthen'd sage advices, 35 
 
 The husband frae the wife despises! 
 
 But to our tale : Ae market night, 
 Tarn had got planted unco right, 
 Fast by an ingle,i bleezing finely, 
 Wi' reaming swats, that drank divinely ; 40 
 
 And at his elbow, Souter - Johnny, 
 His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony ; 
 Tam lo'ed him hke a vera brither ; 
 They had been fou for weeks thegither. 
 The night drave on wi' sangs and clatter, 45 
 
 And aye the ale was growing better: 
 The landlady and Tam grew gracious, 
 Wi' favors secret, sweet, and precious ; 
 The Souter tauld his queerest stories ; 
 The landlord's laugh was ready chorus: 50 
 
 The storm without might rair and ru'stle, 
 Tam didna mind the storm a whistle. 
 
 Care, mad to see a man sae happy, 
 E'en drown'd himseP amang the nappy. 
 As bees flee hame wi' lades o' treasure, 55 
 
 The minutes wing'd their way wi' pleasure ; 
 Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious. 
 O'er a' the ills o' hfe victorious! 
 
 But pleasures are like poppies spread. 
 You seize the flow'r, its bloom is shed ; 60 
 
 1 Contrast this fine blaze with the Cotter's " wee bit ingle." 
 
 2 What is the Latin for " shoemaker "? 
 
 '^ Robertson compares this with the following lines from Thomson's Sea- 
 sons : 
 
 " Much he talks, 
 And much he laughs, nor recks the storm that blows 
 Without, and rattles on his humble roof." 
 
 The student would find pleasure in comparing Burns's village alehouse with 
 Goldsmith's tavern in The Deserted Village. 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. Z2> 
 
 Or like the snow falls ^ in the river, 
 
 A moment white,— then melts forever; 
 
 Or like the borealis race,^ 
 
 That flit ere you can point their place ; 
 
 Or hke the rainbow's lovely form 65 
 
 Evanishing amid the storm. 
 
 Nae man can tether time or tide ;^ 
 
 The hour approaches Tam maun ride ; 
 
 That hour,* o' night's black arch the keystane,* 
 
 That dreary hour, he mounts his beast in ; 70 
 
 And sic a night he taks the road in, 
 
 As ne'er poor sinner was abroad in. 
 
 The wind blew as 'twad blawn its last ; 
 The rattling show'rs rose on the blast ; 
 The speedy gleams the darkness swallow'd ; 7 5 
 
 Loud, deep, and lang, the thunder bellow'd : 
 That night, a child might understand, 
 The Deil had business on his hand.^ 
 
 Weel mounted on his gray mare, Meg, 
 A better never lifted leg, 80 
 
 Tam skelpit on thro' dub and mire, 
 Despising wind, and rain, and fire ; 
 Whiles holding fast his guid blue bonnet ; 
 Whiles crooning o'er some auld Scots sonnet ; 
 Whiles glow'ring round wi' prudent cares, 85 
 
 Lest bogles catch him unawares. 
 Kirk Alloway was drawing nigh, 
 Whare ghaists and houlets nightly cry. 
 
 1 " Falls " is here a verb. " That " is understood as the subject. 
 
 2 Is the word ' ' race " well chosen ? Which is the best simile of the series ? 
 Why, in this passage, does the poet avoid the Scottish dialect? 
 
 3 " Time and tide wait for no man " (Proverb). 
 
 4 The midnight hour. The word " keystane," used as a metaphor in this 
 line, is used in its literal sense in lines 206 and 209. 
 
 5 According to popular superstition, the Evil One and his minions chose 
 night and storm in which to go abroad on their dark " business." 
 
 3 
 
34 ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 By this time he was cross the ford, 
 Whare in the snaw the chapman smoor'd ; 90 
 
 And past the birks and meikle stane, 
 Where drunken Charhe brak's neck-bane ; 
 And thro' the whins,i and by the cairn, 
 Whare hunters fand the murder'd bairn ; 
 And near the thorn, aboon the well, 95 
 
 Where Mungo's mither hang'd hersel.^ 
 Before him Doon pours all his floods ; 
 The doubling storm roars thro' the woods ; 
 The lightnings flash from pole to pole ; 
 Near and more near the thunders roll: 100 
 
 When, glimmering thro' the groaning trees, 
 Kirk Alloway seem'd in a bleeze ; 
 Thro' ilka bore the beams were glancing ; 
 And loud resounded mirth and dancing. 
 
 Inspiring bold John Barleycorn I^ 105 
 
 What dangers thou canst make us scorn! 
 Wi' tippenny, we fear nae evil ; 
 Wi' usquebae,^ we'll face the Devil! 
 The swats sae ream'd in Tammie's noddle, 
 Fair play, he car'd na Deils a boddle! no 
 
 But Maggie stood right sair astonish'd, 
 Till, by the heel and hand admonish'd, 
 
 1 " Whins " are the same as Goldsmith's " furze unprofltably gay." 
 
 2 An uncanny neighborhood! Imagination must invent a history for the 
 "chapman," for "drunken Charlie," the "murder'd bairn," and Mungo's 
 poor " mither." Tam probably knew Charlie and Mungo. 
 
 3 See Burns 's John Barleycorn : A Ballad. 
 
 " John Barleycorn was a hero bold, 
 Of noble enterprise ; 
 For if you do but taste his blood, 
 'Twill make your courage rise." 
 
 4 An Irish word, meaning whisky; from nisge, "water," and beatha, 
 " life." Compare the Latin, aqua vitce. 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 35 
 
 115 
 
 She ventur'd forward on the Hght ; 
 
 And, vow! Tarn saw an unco sight! 
 
 Warlocks and witches in a dance ; 
 
 Nae cotillon brent new frae France, 
 
 But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels, 
 
 Put life and mettle in their heels. 
 
 A winnock bunker in the east. 
 
 There sat auld Nick, in shape o' beast; 120 
 
 A tousie tyke, black, grim, and large, 
 
 To gie them music was his charge : 
 
 He screw'd the pipes and gart them skirl. 
 
 Till roof and rafters a' did dirl. — 
 
 Coffins stood round like open presses, 125 
 
 That shaw'd the dead in their last dresses ; 
 
 And by some devilish cantraip slight ^ 
 
 Each in its cauld hand held a hght, — 
 
 By which heroic Tam was able 
 
 To note upon the haly table,^ 130 
 
 A murderer's banes in gibbet aims ; 
 
 Twa span-lang, wee, unchristen'd bairns ; 
 
 A thief, new-cutted frae the rape, 
 
 Wi' his last gasp his gab did gape ; 
 
 Five tomahawks, wi' bluid red rusted; 135 
 
 Five scymitars, wi' murder crusted ; 
 
 A garter, which a babe had strangled ; 
 
 A knife, a father's throat had mangled, 
 
 Whom his ain son o' hfe bereft. 
 
 The gray hairs yet stack to the heft; 140 
 
 Wi' mair o' horrible and awfu', 
 
 Which ev'n to name wad be unlawfu'. 
 
 As Tammie glowr'd, amaz'd, and curious. 
 The mirth and fun grew fast and furious : 
 
 1 Jugglery is called " sleight of hand." 
 
 2 With audacious irreverence the witches displayed their horrible trophies 
 on the communion table. 
 
36 ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 The piper loud and louder blew ; 145 
 
 The dancers quick and quicker flew ; 
 
 They reel'd, they set, they cross'd, they cleekit, 
 
 Till ilka carlin swat and reekit, 
 
 And coost her duddies to the wark, 
 
 And Hnket at it in her sark! 150 
 
 Now Tarn, O Tarn! had thae been queans, 
 A' plump and strapping in their teens ; 
 Their sarks, instead o' creeshie flannen, 
 Been snaw- white seventeen hunder hnnenl^ 
 Thir breeks o' mine, my only pair, 155 
 
 That ance were plush, o' guid blue hair, 
 I wad hae gi'en them off my hurdles. 
 For ae blink o' the bonie burdies! 
 
 But wither'd beldams, auld and droll, 
 Rigwooddie hags wad spean a foal, 160 
 
 Lowping and flinging on a crummock, 
 I wonder didna turn thy stomach. 
 
 But Tam kend what was what fu' brawlie. 
 There was ae winsome wench and walie ^ 
 That night enlisted in the core, 165 
 
 Lang after kend on Carrick shore !^ 
 (For monie a beast to dead she shot. 
 And perish'd monie a bonie boat, 
 And shook baith meikle corn and bear, 
 And kept the countryside in fear.*) 170 
 
 1 " The manufacturer's term for a fine linen, woven in a reed of 1,200 di- 
 visions " (Cromek). 
 
 2 " She was a winsome wench and wally, 
 And could put on her claes fu' brawly." 
 
 Allan Ramsay's The Three Bonnets. 
 
 3 The southern part of Ayrshire, bordering the Firth of Clyde. 
 
 4 A woman named Katie Stevens, who bore the reputation of a witch, is 
 thought to have been in Burns 's mind when he celebrated the exploits of 
 Nannie. 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 37 
 
 Her cutty-sark, o' Paisley ^ harn, 
 
 That while a lassie she had worn, 
 
 In longitude tho' sorely scanty, 
 
 It was her best, and she was vauntie. 
 
 Ah ! little kend thy reverend grannie 1 7 5 
 
 That sark she coft for her wee Nannie 
 
 Wi' twa pund - Scots ('twas a' her riches) 
 
 Wad ever grac'd a dance of witches! 
 
 But here my Muse her wing maun cour ; 
 Sic flights are far beyond her pow'r — 180 
 
 To sing how Nannie lap and flang, 
 (A souple jade she was, and Strang;) 
 And how Tarn stood, like ane bewitch'd. 
 And thought his very een enrich'd ; 
 Even Satan glowr'd, and fidg'd fu' fain, 185 
 
 And hotch'd and blew wi' might and main : 
 Till first ae caper, syne anither, 
 Tarn tint his reason a' thegither, 
 And roars out " Weel done, Cutty-sark!" 
 And in an instant all was dark! 190 
 
 And scarcely had he Maggie rallied, 
 When out the hellish legion sallied. 
 
 As bees bizz out wi' angry fyke 
 When plundering herds assail their byke, 
 As open^ pussie's'* mortal foes^ 195 
 
 When pop! she starts before their nose, 
 As eager runs the market crowd. 
 When " Catch the thief! " resounds aloud ;^ 
 
 1 Paisley, Scotland, is noted for its linen and other woven fabrics, espe- 
 cially shawls. 
 
 2 A pound Scots was twenty pence sterling. Nannie's garment cost about 
 eighty cents, all her " grannie's " riches. 
 
 3 To begin to bark on view or scent of the game. 
 * The hare or rabbit. 5 Dogs. 
 
 6 Read in Dickens's Oliver Twist, vol. i., chap, x., the exciting descrip- 
 tion of the hue and cry of a London mob chasing a supposed thief. 
 
38 ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 So Maggie runs, the witches follow, 
 
 Wi' monie an eldritch skreech and hollow. 200 
 
 Ah, Tam! ah, Tarn! thou'll get thy fairin! 
 In hell they'll roast thee like a herrin ! 
 In vain thy Kate awaits thy comin! 
 Kate soon will be a woefu' woman! 
 Now, do thy speedy utmost, Meg, 205 
 
 And win the keystane of the brig : 
 There at them thou thy tail may toss, 
 A running stream they darena cross. ^ 
 But ere the keystane she could make, 
 The fient a tail she had to shake! 210 
 
 For Nannie, far before the rest. 
 Hard upon noble Maggie prest, 
 And flew at Tam wi' furious ettle;^ 
 But little wist she Maggie's mettle — 
 Ae spring brought off her master hale, 2 1 5 
 
 But left behind her ain gray tail : 
 The carlin claught her by the rump. 
 And left poor Maggie scarce a stump. 
 
 Now, wha this tale o' truth shall read, 
 Ilk man and mother's son, take heed; 220 
 
 Whene'er to drink you are inclin'd. 
 Or cutty-sarks run in your mind. 
 Think, ye may buy the joys o'er dear, 
 Remember Tam o' Shanter's mare.^ 
 
 1 " It is a well-known fact that witches, or any evil spirits, have no power 
 to follow a poor wight any farther than the middle of the next running stream. 
 It may be proper likewise to mention to the benighted traveler that when he 
 falls in with bogles (goblins), whatever danger may be in going forward, there 
 is much more hazard in turning back " (Burns). 
 
 2 Tam o' Shanter's ride has exercised the talents of more than one artist as 
 a fit subject for drawing, painting, or sculpture. 
 
 3 The mare has her counterpart in old Gunpowder, the famous steed rid- 
 den by Ichabod Crane. 
 
TAM O' SHANTER. 39 
 
 GENERAL NOTES ON TAM O' SHANTER. 
 
 Bums thought this poem his best. John Campbell Shairp, 
 in his " Life of Burns " (English Men of Letters Series), gives a 
 pleasant account of the creation of the famous "tale." "The 
 poem," he says, " was the work of one day, of which Mrs. Burns 
 retained a vivid recollection. Her husband had spent the most 
 part of the day by the riverside, and in the afternoon she joined 
 him with her two children. He was busily engaged ' crooning to 
 himsel ; ' and Mrs. Burns, perceiving that her presence was an 
 interruption, loitered behind with her little ones among the broom. 
 Her attention was presently attracted by the strange and wild 
 gesticulations of the bard, who was now seen at some distance. 
 He was reciting very loud, and with tears roUing down his cheeks, 
 the animated verses which he had just conceived : 
 
 ' Now Tam, O Tarn ! had thae been queans, 
 A' plump and strapping in their teens.' 
 
 ' I wish ye had seen him,* said his wife. * He was in such ec- 
 stasy that the tears were happing down his cheeks.' . . . The 
 poet, having committed the verses to writing on the top of his sod 
 dike above the water, came into the house and read them imme- 
 diately in high triumph at the fireside." 
 
 The tetrameter in which the poem is written adapts itself 
 readily to the rapid movement which gives such excitement to the 
 whole narrative. 
 
 Notice the effect, both hvely and ludicrous, of the double, 
 and, in two couplets, triple, rimes. 
 
 Compare the witches of Alloway Kirk with those described 
 in " Macbeth " and in " Faust." 
 
 Compare Tam's rapid ride with the galloping made famous 
 in verses by Scott, Browning, T. B. Read, and other poets. 
 
MAN WAS MADE TO MOURN. 
 
 A dirge;^ 
 
 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 spy'd a man, whose aged step 5 
 
 Seem'd weary, worn with care ; 
 His face was furrow'd o'er with years, 
 
 And hoary was his hair.^ 
 
 1 " Much of the situation and sentiment of this poem was suggested by 
 Shenstone's Seventh Elegy " (Robertson). 
 
 2 Is the poem strictly " a dirge "? 
 
 3 " I had an old granduncle, with whom my mother lived awhile in her 
 girlish years. The good old man (for such he was) was long blind ere he 
 died, during which time his enjoyment was to sit down and cry, while my 
 mother would sing the simple old song, The Life and Age of Man. It is 
 this way of thinking, it is these melancholy truths, that make religion so 
 precious to the poor, miserable children of men" (BuRNS's letter to Mrs. 
 Dunlop, August 16, 1788). 
 
 Part of the song to which Burns referred is as follows : 
 
 " On January the sixteenth day, 
 As I did ly alone. 
 With many a sigh and sob did say, 
 Ah! man is made to moan." 
 40 
 
MAN WAS MADE TO MOURN. \\ 
 
 Young stranger, whither wand'rest thou? 
 
 Began the rev'rend Sage; lo 
 
 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 1 5 
 
 The miseries of Man. 
 
 The sun that overhangs yon moors, 
 
 Outspreading far and wide. 
 Where hundreds labor to support 
 
 A haughty lordling's pride ; 20 
 
 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, 25 
 
 How prodigal of time! 
 Misspending all thy precious hours, 
 
 Thy glorious youthful prime! 
 Alternate follies take the sway ; 
 
 Licentious passions burn ; 30 
 
 Which tenfold force give 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, 35 
 
 Supported is his right ; 
 
 1 " Does wealth or power thy weary step constrain? " (Shenstone's Sev- 
 enth Elegy). 
 
 '^ " Not all the force of manhood's active might " (Shenstone). 
 
42 ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 But see him on the edge of Hfe, 
 
 With cares and sorrows worn, 
 Then age and want, O ill-match'd pairl^ 
 
 Show Man was made to mourn. 40 
 
 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 45 
 
 Are 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! 2 50 
 
 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-^ 55 
 
 Makes countless thousands mourn! 
 
 See yonder poor, o'erlabor'd wight,* 
 So abject, mean, and vile, 
 
 1 " Oppressed with two weak evils, Age and Hunger" (Shakespeare's 
 As You Like It, ii. 7). 
 
 2 " By skill divine inwoven in our frame" (Young's Night Thoughts, 
 Book VII.). 
 
 3 " Inhumanity is caught from man " (Night Thoughts, Book V.). 
 
 4 The poem was composed in 1784. Gilbert Burns says : " He [Robert] 
 used to remark to me that he could not well conceive a more mortifying pic- 
 ture of human life than a man seeking work. In casting about in his mind 
 how this sentiment might be brought forward, the elegy, Man was Made to 
 Mourn, was composed." 
 
MAN WAS MADE TO MOURN. 43 
 
 Who begs a brother of the earth 
 
 To give him leave to toil ; 60 
 
 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, 65 
 
 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? 70 
 
 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 humankind 75 
 
 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 ! 80 
 
 O Death ! the poor man's dearest friend, 
 
 The kindest and the best! 
 Welcome the hour my aged limbs 
 
 Are laid with thee at rest! 
 
 1 " Still in thought as free as ever, 
 
 What are England's rights, I ask, 
 Me from my delights to sever, 
 Me to torture, me to task? " 
 
 Cowper's The Negroes Complaint. 
 
44 ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 The great, the wealthy, fear thy blow, 85 
 
 From pomp and pleasure torn ; 
 But, oh! a blest relief to those 
 
 That weary-laden mourn l^ 
 
 >- Compare this melancholy view of old age with Southey's cheerful poem, 
 The Old Man's Comforts, beginning : 
 
 " ' You are old. Father William,' the young man cried; 
 ' The few locks which are left you are gray ; 
 You are hale. Father William, a hearty old man : 
 Now tell me the reason, I pray.' " 
 
BANNOCKBURN/ 
 
 ROBERT BRUCE'S ADDRESS TO HIS ARMY. 
 
 Tune— "jY^j ttittie tattiey^ 
 
 Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, 
 Scots, wham Bruce has aften led ; 
 Welcome to your gory bed, 
 Or to victorie. 
 
 Now's the day, and now's the hour ; 5 
 
 See the front o' battle lour! 
 See approach proud Edward's power — 
 Chains and slaverie! 
 
 1 " This celebrated song was conceived by the poet during a storm of rain 
 and lightning among the wilds of Glenken, in Galloway" (Sir HARRIS 
 Nicolas). 
 
 2 " There is a tradition that the air Hey Tuttie Tattie was Robert Bruce's 
 march at the battle of Bannockburn. This thought, in my yesternight's even- 
 ing walk, warmed me to such a pitch of enthusiasm on the theme of liberty 
 and independence, which I threw into a kind of Scottish ode, fitted to the air, 
 that one might suppose to be the gallant royal Scot's address to his heroic 
 followers on that eventful morning" (BuRNS to Mr. Thomson, September, 
 1793)- At the suggestion of Mr. Thomson, Burns made alterations in the 
 last line of every stanza, to suit the song to the air Lewis Gordon. The sec- 
 ond version is seldom sung. 
 
 45 
 
46 ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Wha will be a traitor knave? 
 Wha can fill a coward's grave? lo 
 
 Wha sae base as be a slave? 
 Let him turn and flee! 
 
 Wha for Scotland's King and Law 
 Freedom's sword will strongly draw, 
 Freeman stand, or freeman fa' ? 15 
 
 Let him follow me! 
 
 By Oppression's woes and pains! 
 By your sons in servile chains! 
 We will drain our dearest veins, 
 
 But they shall be free! 20 
 
 Lay the proud usurpers low ! ^ 
 Tyrants fall in every foe! 
 Liberty's in every blow! 
 Let us do or die! 2 
 
 1 " I have borrowed the last stanza from the common stall edition of Wal- 
 lace: 
 
 ' A false usurper sinks in every foe, 
 And liberty returns with every blow' — 
 
 a couplet worthy of Homer " (Burns). 
 
 2 " So may God ever defend the cause of truth and liberty, as he did that 
 day! Amen " (Burns). 
 
 Note. — See John Pierpont's Warren's Address to the American Soldiers, 
 a spirited parody or imitation of Bannockburn. 
 
WILL YE GO TO THE INDIES, 
 
 MY MARY?' 
 
 Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary, 
 
 And leave auld Scotia's shore? 
 Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary, 
 
 Across th' Atlantic roar? 
 
 sweet grows the lime and the orange, 5 
 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, 
 
 I hae sworn by the Heavens to be true ; 10 
 
 And sae may the Heavens forget me, 
 When I forget my vow! 
 
 1 This and the three following songs were inspired by Mary Campbell, a 
 Highland girl from the neighborhood of Dunoon, on the Clyde, described as 
 " a most sprightly blue-eyed creature of great modesty and self-respect." 
 One of Burns's late biographers, J. S. Blackie, says: " It was agreed be- 
 tween them that she should give up her place" (she was a servant), " go to 
 the Highlands, where her father was a sailor in Campbeltown, and arrange 
 matters there for her formal union with the poet. The poetical union had 
 already been completed in a most sentimental and pious fashion. On the 
 banks of the Ayr the lovers had a meeting on the second Sunday in May, 
 1786, where they made the most solemn vows of faithful adherence. Stand- 
 ing on each side of a slow-running brooklet, and holding a Bible between 
 
 47 
 
48 ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Oh plight me your faith, my Mary, 
 And phght me your hly- white hand! 
 
 Oh pHght 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! 20 
 
 them, the two swore themselves to be one till death." But Burns, faithless, 
 never saw Highland Mary again. She died in the autumn of the same year 
 in which the vows were exchanged. Burns did not go to the Indies, but re- 
 mained in Scotland and married Jean Armour. Of the poem Burns wrote, in 
 1792 : " In my very early years, when I was thinking of going to the West 
 Indies, I took the following farewell of a dear girl." 
 
HIGHLAND MARY. 
 
 Tune— "ATr/Z/^rm^? Ogie^ 
 
 Ye banks and braes and streams around 
 
 The castle o' Montgomery,^ 
 Green be your woods, and fair your flowers, 
 
 Your waters never drumlie! 
 There summer first unfald her robes, 5 
 
 And there the langest tarry ; 
 For there I took the last fareweel 
 
 O' my sweet Highland Mary.^ 
 
 How sweetly bloo^i'd the gay, green birk, 
 
 How rich the hawthorn's blossom, lo 
 
 As underneath their fragrant shade 
 I clasp'd her to my bosom! 
 
 1 " Coilsfield House is meant, occupied in 1786 by a family of the name 
 of Montgomery" (J. LoGiE Robertson). 
 
 2 Burns wrote, in 1792: " The foregoing song pleases myself; I think it 
 is in my happiest manner. The subject of the song is one of the most inter- 
 esting passages of my youthful days ; and I own that I would be much flat- 
 tered to see the verses set to an air which would insure celebrity. Perhaps, 
 after all, 'tis the still glowing prejudice in my heart that throws a borrowed 
 luster over the merits of the composition." How little does such a song de- 
 pend for its " celebrity " on the air Katharine Ogie, or any other tune! Such 
 a song is music. 
 
 4 49 
 
50 ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 The golden hours, on angel wings, 
 
 Flew o'er me and my dearie ; 
 For dear to me, as light and life, 1 5 
 
 Was my sweet Highland Mary. 
 
 Wi' monie a vow, and lock'd embrace, 
 
 Our parting was fu' tender ; 
 And, pledging aft to meet again, 
 
 We tore oursels asunder; 20 
 
 But oh! fell Death's untimely frost, 
 
 That nipt my flower sae early! 
 Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay, 
 
 That wraps my Highland Mary! 
 
 O pale, pale now, those rosy lips, 25 
 
 I aft hae kiss'd sae fondly ; 
 And closed for aye the sparkling glance. 
 
 That dwelt on me sae kindly ; 
 And mold'ring now in silent dust. 
 
 That heart that lo'ed me dearly! 30 
 
 But still within my bosom's core 
 Shall live my Highland Mary.^ 
 
 * 
 1 " Give lettered pomp to teeth of Time, 
 So Bonny Doon but tarry ; 
 Blot out the Epic's stately rhyme, 
 But spare his Highland Mary! " 
 
 J. G. Whittier. 
 
TO MARY IN HEAVEN/ 
 
 Tune — " Aliss Forbes'' s Farewell to Banff.'''' 
 
 Thou ling'ring star, with less'ning ray, 
 
 That lov'st to greet the early morn, 
 Again thou usher'st in the day 
 
 My Mary from my soul was torn. 
 O Mary! dear departed shade! 5 
 
 Where is thy place of blissful rest? 
 See'st thou thy lover lowly laid ? 
 
 Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast? 
 
 That sacred hour can I forget? 
 
 Can I forget the hallow'd grove, 10 
 
 Where by the winding Ayr we met, 
 
 To live one day of parting love? 
 Eternity cannot efface 
 
 Those records dear of transports past ; 
 Thy image at our last embrace ; 1 5 
 
 Ah! little thought we 'twas our last! 
 
 1 "In the beginning of the October of 1789 Burns had been very merry. 
 But as the month drew near a melancholy anniversary, the death of Highland 
 Mary, vi^hom we know so little of, and who had in reality so much less share 
 in his life than many another, he was observed by his wife ' to grow sad about 
 something, and to wander solitary on the banks of the Nith, and about his 
 farmyard, in the extremest agitation of mind nearly the whole night. He 
 
 SI 
 
52 ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Ayr gurgling kiss'd his pebbled shore, 
 
 O'erhung with wild woods, thick'ning green ; 
 The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar 
 
 Twin'd am'rous round the raptur'd scene ; 20 
 
 The flowers sprang wanton to be prest, 
 
 The birds sang love on ev'ry spray, 
 Till too, too soon, the glowing west 
 
 Proclaim'd the speed of winged day. 
 
 Still o'er these scenes my mem'ry wakes, 25 
 
 And fondly broods with miser care! 
 Time but th' impression deeper makes. 
 
 As streams their channels deeper wear. 
 O Mary, dear departed shade! 
 
 Where is thy place of blissful rest? 30 
 
 See'st thou thy lover lowly laid? 
 
 Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast? 
 
 screened himself on the lee side of a cornstack from the cutting edge of the 
 night wind, and lingered till approaching dawn wiped out the stars one by 
 one.' When at last his anxious wife (who, let us hope, was not aware what 
 anniversary it was) persuaded him to come in, he sat down and put upon paper 
 his visionary sorrow, in verses so pathetic that no critic has ever ventured to 
 reckon them otherwise than among the most beautiful that Burns ever wrote " 
 (Mrs. Oliphant). 
 
AFTON WATER.' 
 
 Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes! 
 Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise! 
 My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream,— 
 Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream! 
 
 Thou stock dove whose echo resounds thro' the glen, 5 
 Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den, 
 Thou green-crested lapwing, thy screaming forbear, 
 I charge you, disturb* not my slumbering fair. 
 
 How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighboring hills. 
 
 Far mark'd with the courses of clear, winding rills! 10 
 
 There daily I wander as noon rises high, 
 
 My flocks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eye. 
 
 How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below, 
 Where wild in the woodlands the primroses blow ; 
 There oft as mild ev'ning weeps over the lea, 15 
 
 The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me. 
 
 Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides, 
 And winds by the cot where my Mary resides! 
 
 1 " Afton Water flows into Upper Nith through the inland parish of Cum- 
 nock, Ayrshire " (J. L. Robertson). 
 
 53 
 
54 ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave, 
 
 As gathering sweet flow'rets she stems thy clear wave! 20 
 
 Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes! 
 Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays! 
 My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream, — 
 Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream. 
 
OH, WERT THOU IN THE CAULD 
 BLAST/ 
 
 Tune — " The Lass of Livingstone.'''' 
 
 Oh, WERT thou in the cauld blast, 
 
 On yonder lea, on yonder lea. 
 My plaidie to the angry airt, 
 
 I'd shelter thee, I'd shelter thee. 
 Or did Misfortune's bitter storms 
 
 Around thee blaw, around thee blaw, 
 Thy bield should be my bosom. 
 
 To share it a', to share it a'. 
 
 Or were I in the wildest waste, 
 
 Sae black and bare, sae black and bare, lo 
 
 The desert were a paradise. 
 
 If thou wert there, if thou wert there. 
 Or were I monarch of the globe, 
 
 Wi' thee to reign, wi' thee to reign, 
 The brightest jewel in my crown 15 
 
 Wad be my queen, wad be my queen. 
 
 1 It is said that Mrs. Riddel was the heroine of this song. But it was, in 
 fact, wiitten to Jessie Lewars, who attended the poet in his last illness. It 
 was almost the last piece composed by Burns. It was set to music by the 
 German composer, Felix Mendelssohn. 
 
 55 
 
OF A' THE AIRTS.' 
 
 Of a' the airts the wind can blaw, 
 
 I dearly like the west, 
 For there the bonie lassie lives, 
 
 The lassie I lo'e best : 
 There wild woods grow, and rivers row, 5 
 
 And monie a hill between ; 
 But day and night my fancy's flight 
 
 Is ever wi' my Jean. 
 
 I see her in the dewy flowers, 
 
 I see her sweet and fair: 10 
 
 I hear her in the tunefu' birds, 
 
 I hear her charm the air : 
 There's not a bonie flower that springs 
 
 By fountain, shaw, or green, 
 There's not a bonie bird that sings, 1 5 
 
 But minds me o' my Jean. 
 
 1 This was written at Ellisland, in June, 1788. Burns said of it: " This 
 song I composed out of compliment to Mrs. Burns. N. B. — It was during 
 the honeymoon." 
 
 56 
 
MARY MORISON.' 
 
 Tune— "Bide ye yet. " 
 
 Mary, at thy window be, 
 
 It is the wish'd, the trysted hour! 
 Those smiles and glances let me see. 
 
 That make the miser's treasure poor. 
 How blythely wad I bide the stoure, 5 
 
 A weary slave frae sun to sun, 
 Could I the rich reward secure, 
 
 The lovely Mary Morison! 
 
 Yestreen, when to the trembling string 
 
 The dance gaed thro' the lighted ha', 10 
 
 To thee my fancy took its wing, 
 I sat, but neither heard or saw : 
 
 Tho' this was fair, and that was braw, 
 And yon the toast of a' the town, 
 
 1 sigh'd, and said amang them a', 15 
 
 " Ye are na Mary Morison." 
 
 1 One of the author's early pieces, written in 1780. Of it Burns wrote, in 
 1793 : " I do not think it very remarkable, either for its merits or demerits." 
 Mrs. Oliphant asks : " Could there be a more delicate expression of that su- 
 premacy of one, which is too penetrating, too ethereal, to mean merely a se- 
 lection of the most beautiful? " 
 
 57 
 
58 ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 O Mary, canst thou wreck his peace, 
 
 Wha for thy sake wad gladly die? 
 Or canst thou break that heart of his, 
 
 Whase only faut is loving thee? 20 
 
 If love for love thou wilt na gie, 
 
 At least be pity to me shown : 
 A thought ungentle canna be 
 
 The thought o' Mary M orison. 
 
A RED, RED ROSE. 
 
 Tune — " Wishaw's favorite.'''' 
 
 Oh, my luve is like a red, red rose, 
 
 That's newly sprung in June : 
 Oh, my luve is Hke the melodic 
 
 That's sweetly play'd in tune. 
 
 As fair art thou, my bonie lass, ' 5 
 
 So deep in luve am I : 
 And I will luve thee still, my dear. 
 
 Till a' the seas gang dry. 
 
 Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear, 
 
 And the rocks melt wi' the sun : 10 
 
 And I will luve thee still, my dear, 
 
 While the sands o' life shall run. 
 
 And fare thee weel, my only luve. 
 
 And fare thee weel awhile! 
 And I will come again, my luve, 1 5 
 
 Tho' it were ten thousand mile. 
 
 59 
 
MY NANNIE'S AWAJ 
 
 Tune — " There'll never be peace till Jamie cojnes hajne.^^ 
 
 Now in her green mantle blythe Nature arrays, 
 And listens the lambkins that bleat o'er the braes, 
 While birds warble welcomes in ilka green shaw ; 
 But to me it's delightless — my Nannie's awa. 
 
 The snawdrap and primrose our woodlands adorn, 5 
 
 _ And violets bathe in the weet o' the morn : 
 They pain my sad bosom, sae sweetly they blaw, 
 They mind me o' Nannie — and Nannie's awa. 
 
 Thou lav'rock that springs frae the dews o' the lawn, 
 The shepherd to warn o' the gray-breaking dawn, 10 
 
 And thou, mellow mavis, that hails the nightfa', 
 Gie over for pity — my Nannie's awa. 
 
 Come autumn, sae pensive, in yellow and gray. 
 
 And soothe me wi' tidings o' Nature's decay ; 
 
 The dark, dreary winter, and wild-driving snaw, 15 
 
 Alane can delight me — now Nannie's awa. 
 
 ^ The lady referred to as Nannie was Agnes Craig (Mrs. M'Lehose), 
 known also in Burns 's correspondence under the name of Clarinda. 
 
 60 
 
THE BANKS O' DOON. 
 
 Tune — "The Caledonian Hunfs delight.''' 
 
 Ye banks and braes o' bonie Doon, 
 
 How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair! 
 How can ye chant, ye Httle birds, 
 
 And I sae weary fu' o' care! 
 Thou'lt break my heart, thou warbhng bird, 5 
 
 That wantons thro' the flowering thorn : 
 Thou minds me o' departed joys. 
 
 Departed — never to return. 
 
 Thou'lt break my heart, thou bonie bird. 
 
 That sings beside thy mate, 10 
 
 For sae I sat, and sae I sang. 
 
 And wistna o' my fate. 
 Aft hae I rov'd by bonie Doon, 
 
 To see the rose and woodbine twine ; 
 And ilka bird sang o' its luve, 1 5 
 
 And fondly sae did I o' mine. 
 
 Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose, 
 
 Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree ; 
 And my fause luver stole my rose. 
 
 But ah! he left the thorn wi' me. 20 
 
 Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose 
 
 Upon a morn in June ; 
 And sae I flourish'd on the morn, 
 
 And sae was pu'd on noon. 
 61 
 
JOHN ANDERSON MY JO. 
 
 John Anderson my jo, John, 
 
 When we were first acquent, 
 Your locks were hke the raven, 
 
 Your bonie brow was brent ; 
 But now your brow is beld, John, 5 
 
 Your locks are like the snaw ; 
 But blessings on your frosty pow, 
 
 John Anderson my jo. 
 
 John Anderson my jo, John, 
 
 We clamb the hill thegither ; i c 
 
 And monie a cantie day, John, 
 
 We've had wi' ane anither: 
 Now we maun totter down, John, 
 
 But hand in hand we'll go. 
 And sleep thegither at the foot, 15 
 
 John Anderson my jo. 
 
 62 
 
MY HEART'S IN THE HIGHLANDS. 
 
 My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here ; 
 My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer; 
 A-chasing the wild deer, and following the roe, 
 My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go. 
 
 Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North, 5 
 
 The birthplace of valor, the country of worth ; 
 Wherever I wander, wherever I rove, 
 The hills of the Highlands forever I love. 
 
 Farewell to the mountains high cover'd with snow ; 
 Farewell to the straths and green valleys below; 10 
 
 Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods ; 
 Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods. 
 
 My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here ; 
 My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer ; 
 A-chasing the wild deer, and following the roe, 1 5 
 
 My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go. 
 
 63 
 
DUNCAN GRAY, 
 
 Duncan Gray came here to woo, 
 Ha, ha, the wooing o't, 
 
 On biythe Yule night Vv^hen we were fou, 
 Ha, ha, the wooing o't. 
 
 Maggie coost her head fu' high, 5 
 
 Look'd asklent and unco skeigh, 
 
 Gart poor Duncan stand abeigh ; 
 
 Ha, ha, the wooing o't. 
 
 Duncan fleech'd, and Duncan pray'd. 
 
 Ha, ha, the wooing o't; 10 
 
 Meg was deaf as Ailsa Craig,^ 
 
 Ha, ha, the wooing o't. 
 Duncan sigh'd baith out and in, 
 Grat his een baith bleer't an' bhn', 
 Spak o' lowpin o'er a Hnn ;^ 15 
 
 Ha, ha, the wooing o't. 
 
 Time and chance are but a tide, 
 
 Ha, ha, the wooing o't, 
 
 Slighted love is sair to bide. 
 
 Ha, ha, the wooing o't. 20 
 
 1 " Duncan Gray is that kind of light-horse gallop of an air which precludes 
 sentiment. The ludicrous is its ruling feature " (Burns). 
 
 2 Ailsa Craig is an island rock in the Firth of Clyde, opposite Girvan. 
 
 3 To drown himself. 
 
 64 
 
DUNCAN GRAY. 65 
 
 Shall I, like a fool, quoth he, 
 
 For a haughty hizzie die? 
 
 She may gae to — France for me! 
 
 Ha, ha, the wooing o't. 
 
 How it comes let doctors tell, 25 
 
 Ha, ha, the wooing o't, 
 Meg grew sick as he grew well. 
 
 Ha, ha, the wooing o't. 
 Something in her bosom wrings. 
 For relief a sigh she brings ; 30 
 
 And oh! her een they spak sic things! 
 
 Ha, ha, the wooing o't. 
 
 Duncan was a lad o' grace. 
 
 Ha, ha, the wooing o't, 
 Maggie's was a piteous case, 35 
 
 Ha, ha, the wooing o't. 
 Duncan couldna be her death, 
 Swelhng pity smoor'd his wrath ; 
 Now they're crouse and cantie baitli ' 
 
 Ha, ha, the wooing o't. 40 
 
TAM GLEN. 
 
 My heart is a-breaking, dear Tittie, 
 
 Some counsel unto me come len*, 
 To anger them a' is a pity ; 
 
 But what will I do wi' Tarn Glen? 
 
 I'm thinking, wi' sic a braw fellow, 5 
 
 In poortith I might mak a fen' ; 
 What care I in riches to wallow, 
 
 If I maunna marry Tam Glen? 
 
 There's Lowrie the laird o' Dumeller, 
 
 " Guid day to you, brute! " he comes ben: 10 
 He brags and he blaws o'. his siller, 
 
 But when will he dance like Tam Glen? 
 
 My minnie does constantly deave me, 
 
 And bids me beware o' young men ; 
 They flatter, she says, to deceive me ; 1 5 
 
 But wha can think sae o' Tam Glen? 
 
 My daddie says, gin I'll forsake him, 
 He'll gie me guid hunder marks ten : 
 
 But, if it's ordain'd I maun take him, 
 
 O wha will I get but Tam Glen? 20 
 
 66 
 
TAM GLEN. 67 
 
 Yestreen at the Valentines' dealing, 
 
 My heart to my mou gied a sten : 
 For thrice I drew ane without failing, 
 
 And thrice it was written, Tarn Glen. 
 
 The last Halloween I was waukin 25 
 
 My droukit sark sleeve, as ye ken ; 
 His likeness came up the house staukin— 
 
 And the very gray breeks o' Tarn Glen! 
 
 Come, counsel, dear Tittie, don't tarry ; 
 
 I'll gie you my bonie black hen, 30 
 
 Gif ye will advise me to marry 
 
 The lad I lo'e dearly, Tarn Glen. 
 
AULD LANG SYNE/ 
 
 Should aiild acquaintance be forgot, 
 
 And never brought to min'? 
 Should auld acquaintance be forgot, 
 
 And days o' lang syne? 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 For auld lang syne, my dear, 5 
 
 For auld lang syne, 
 We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet 
 
 For auld lang syne.'^ 
 
 We twa hae run about the braes. 
 
 And pu'd the gowans fine ; i o 
 
 But we've wander'd monie a weary foot 
 
 Sin auld lang syne. 
 For auld, etc. 
 
 We twa hae paidl't i' the burn, 
 
 From mornin sun till dine ; 
 But seas between us braid hae roar'd 1 5 
 
 Sin auld lang syne. 
 For auld, etc. 
 
 1 " This is a reunion song, but almost always sung at parting. Allan 
 Ramsay's song with this title suggested nothing to Burns but the opening 
 line and the title " (J. L. Robertson). 
 
 2 <'Is not the Scotch phrase 'auld lang syne' exceedingly expressive?" 
 (Burns, in a letter to Mrs. Dunlop.) 
 
 68 
 
AULD LANG SYNE. 69 
 
 And here's a hand, my trusty fiere, 
 
 And gie's a hand o' thine ; 
 And we'll tak a right guid willie-waught 
 
 For auld lang'syne. 20 
 
 For auld, etc. 
 
 And surely ye'll be your pint stowp, 
 
 And surely I'll be mine ; 
 And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet 
 
 For auld lang syne. 
 For auld, etc. 
 
• SONNET, 
 
 ON HEARING A THRUSH SING IN A MORNING 
 WALK IN JANUARY, WRITTEN 25TH JANUARY, 
 1793, THE BIRTHDAY OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 Sing on, sweet Thrush, upon the leafless bough ; 
 Sing on, sweet bird, I hsten to thy strain : 
 See aged Winter, 'mid his surly reign, 
 
 At thy blythe carol clears his furrow'd brow. 
 
 So in lone Poverty's dominion drear 
 
 Sits meek Content with light, unanxious heart. 
 Welcomes the rapid moments, bids them part. 
 
 Nor asks if they bring aught to hope or fear. 
 
 I thank thee. Author of this opening day! 
 
 Thou whose bright sun now gilds the orient skies 
 Riches denied, thy boon was purer joys. 
 
 What wealth could never give nor take away ! 
 
 Yet come, thou child of poverty and care ; 
 The mite high Heaven bestow'd, that mite with thee I'll 
 share. 
 
 70 
 
TO A MOUSE, 
 
 ON TURNING HER UP IN HER NEST WITH THE 
 PLOW, NOVEMBER, 1785.1 
 
 Wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie. 
 Oh, what a panic's in thy breastie! 
 Thou needna start awa sae hasty 
 
 Wi' bickering brattle! 
 I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee 5 
 
 Wi' murd'ring pattle! 
 
 I'm truly sorry man's dominion 
 Has broken Nature's social union, 
 An' justifies that ill opinion 
 
 Which makes thee startle 10 
 
 At me, thy poor, earth-born companion 
 
 An' fellow-mortal! 
 
 I doubtna, whiles, but thou may thieve ; 
 
 What then? poor beastie, thou maun live! 
 
 A daimen-icker in a thrave 15 
 
 'S a sma' request : 
 I'll get a blessin wi' the lave, 
 
 And never miss't! 
 
 1 " The occasion of this poem was commonplace enough. The poet was 
 plowing in November, 1785, and the plowshare happened to turn up the nest 
 of a field mouse. The small creature was in haste to escape, when one of 
 
 71 
 
72 ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin! 
 
 Its silly wa's the win's are strewin ! 20 
 
 An' naething, now, to big a new ane, 
 
 O' foggage green! 
 An' bleak December's winds ensuin, 
 
 Baith snell an' keen! 
 
 Thou saw the fields laid bare and waste, 25 
 
 An' weary winter comin fast, 
 An' cozie here, beneath the blast, 
 
 Thou thought to dwell. 
 Till crash! the cruel coulter past 
 
 Out thro' thy cell. 30 
 
 That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble 
 Has cost thee monie a weary nibble! 
 Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble. 
 
 But house or hald. 
 To thole the winter's sleety dribble 35 
 
 An' cranreuch cauld! 
 
 But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane 
 In proving foresight may be vain : 
 The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men 
 
 Gang aft agley, 40 
 
 An' lea'e us naught but grief an' pain 
 
 For promis'd joy. 
 
 Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me! 
 
 The present only toucheth thee : 
 
 But, och! I backward cast my e'e 45 
 
 On prospects drear! 
 An' forward, tho' I canna see, 
 
 I guess an' fear! 
 
 the farm servants, John Blane, made after it with the plow spade, or pattle. 
 Burns called to him to stop, and fell into a pensive mood, in which he composed 
 the piece just as it stands " (J. Logie Robertson). 
 
TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY/ 
 
 ON TURNING ONE DOWN WITH THE PLOW, IN 
 APRIL, 1786. 
 
 Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flow'r, 
 Thou's met me in an evil hour ; 
 For I maun crush amang the stoure 
 
 Thy slender stem. 
 To spare thee now is past my pow'r, 5 
 
 Thou bonie gem. 
 
 Alas! it's no thy neebor sweet, 
 The bonie Lark, companion meet! 
 Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet! 
 
 Wi' spreckl'd breast, 10 
 
 When upward springing, blythe, to greet 
 
 The purpHng east. 
 
 1 Burns sent this poem, with a letter dated April 20, 1786, to his friend, 
 John Kennedy, clerk to the earl of Dumfries, saying: " I have here likewise 
 inclosed a small piece, the very latest of my productions. I am a good deal 
 pleased with some sentiments myself, as they are just the native, querulous 
 feelings of a heart which, as the elegantly melting Gray says, ' melancholy has 
 marked for her own.' " 
 
 73 
 
74 ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Cauld blew the bitter-biting north 
 
 Upon thy early, humble birth ; 
 
 Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth 15 
 
 Amid the storm, 
 Scarce rear'd above the parent earth 
 
 Thy tender form. 
 
 The flaunting flow'rs our gardens yield, 
 
 High shelt'ring woods and wa's maun shield; 20 
 
 But thou, beneath the random bield 
 
 O' clod or stane. 
 Adorns the histie stibble field. 
 
 Unseen, alane. 
 
 There, in thy scanty mantle clad, 25 
 
 Thy snawie bosom sunward spread, 
 Thou lifts thy unassuming head 
 
 In humble guise ; 
 But now the share uptears thy bed, 
 
 And low thou lies! 30 
 
 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, hke thee, all soil'd, is laid 35 
 
 Low i' the dust. 
 
 Such is the fate of simple Bard, 
 
 On life's rough ocean luckless starr'd! 
 
 Unskillful he to note the card 
 
 Of prudent lore, 40 
 
 Till billows rage, and gales blow hard, 
 
 And whelm him o'er! 
 
 1 Cf- Goldsmith's The Deserted Village, lines 329-336. 
 
TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY. 75 
 
 Such fate to suffering worth is giv'n, 
 
 Who long with wants and woes has striv'n, 
 
 By human pride or cunning driv'n 45 
 
 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; 50 
 
 Stern Ruin's plowshare drives, elate,i 
 
 Full on thy bloom. 
 Till crush' d beneath the furrow's weight, 
 
 Shall be thy doom! 
 
 1 Cf. Young's Night Thoughts, Book I'X. : 
 
 " Final Ruin fiercely drives 
 Her plowshare o'er creation." 
 
A WINTER NIGHT.' 
 
 When biting Boreas, fell and doure, 
 Sharp shivers thro' the leafless bow'r; 
 When Phoebus gies a short-liv'd glow'r, 
 
 Far south the lift, 
 Dim-dark'ning thro' the flaky show'r 5 
 
 Or whirling drift ; 
 
 Ae night the storm the steeples rocked, 
 Poor Labor sweet in sleep was locked. 
 While burns, wi' snawy wreeths upchoked, 
 
 Wild-eddying swirl, 10 
 
 Or, thro' the mining outlet booked, 
 
 Down headlong hurl ; 
 
 1 The four stanzas here printed constitute the introduction to a poem of 
 ninety-six lines. Compare the stanza beginning: 
 
 " Blow, blow, ye winds, with heavier gust, 
 And freeze, thou bitter-biting frost," 
 
 with the song in As You Like It, ii. vii., of which it is a paraphrase. 
 
 2 These lines were suggested to Burns by a speech in Shakespeare's King 
 Lear, iii. iv. : 
 
 " Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er ye are. 
 That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm. 
 How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides, 
 Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you 
 From seasons such as these ? " 
 76 
 
A WINTER NIGHT. 77 
 
 List'ning the doors an' winnocks rattle 
 
 I thought me on the ourie cattle, 
 
 Or silly sheep, wha bide this brattle 1 5 
 
 O' winter war, 
 And thro' the drift, deep-lairing, sprattle 
 
 Beneath a scar.^ 
 
 Ilk happing bird, wee, helpless thing! 
 
 That, in the merry months o' spring, 20 
 
 Delighted me to hear thee sing, ^ 
 
 What comes o' thee? 
 Where wilt thou cow'r thy chittering wing, 
 
 An' close thy e'e? 
 
CONTENTED WF LITTLE, 
 
 Tune — " Lut/ips o' pudding. 
 
 Contented wi' little, and cantie wi' mair, 
 
 Whene'er I forgather wi' sorrow and care, 
 
 I gie them a skelp as they're creepin alang, 
 
 Wi' a cog o' guid swats, and an auld Scottish sang. 
 
 I whyles claw the elbow o' troublesome thought ; 5 
 
 But man is a soger, and life is a faught : 
 
 My mirth and guid humor are coin in my pouch. 
 
 And my freedom's my lairdship nae monarch dare touch. 
 
 A towmond o' trouble, should that be my fa', 
 
 A night o' guid fellowship sowthers it a' ; 10 
 
 When at the blythe end of our journey at last, 
 
 Wha the deil ever thinks o' the road he has past? 
 
 BHnd Chance, let her snapper and stoyte on her way, 
 Be't to me, be't frae me, e'en let the jad gae : 
 Come ease, or come travail ; come pleasure or pain, 1 5 
 My warst word is— '' Welcome, and welcome again!" 
 
A BARD'S' EPITAPH. 
 
 Is there a whim-inspired fool, 
 
 Owre fast for thought, owre hot for rule, 
 
 Owre blate to seek, owre proud to snool. 
 
 Let him draw near ; 
 And owre this grassy heap sing dool, 5 
 
 And drap a tear. 
 
 Is there a Bard of rustic song, 
 
 Who, noteless, steals the crowds among, 
 
 That weekly this area throng, 
 
 O, pass not by! 10 
 
 But, with a f rater 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, 15 
 
 Wild as the wave ; 
 Here pause— and, thro' the starting tear. 
 
 Survey this grave. 
 
 The poor inhabitant below 
 
 Was quick to learn and wise to know, 20 
 
 1 The " bard," of course, is Burns himself, who seems to have seen his 
 own character as others saw it. 
 
 79 
 
So ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 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 25 
 
 Soars fancy's flights beyond the pole, 
 Or darkling grubs this earthly hole, 
 
 In low pursuit ; 
 Know, prudent, cautious self-control 1 
 
 Is wisdom's root.^ 30 
 
 1 " He that ruleth his spirit, [is better] than he that taketh a city " (Prov. 
 XVI. 32). 
 
 2 Read A Poet's Epitaph, by Wordsworth ; also Wordsworth's poem, 
 At the Grave of Burns, in which part of the fourth stanza of A Bard's Epitaph 
 is quoted. 
 
FOR A" THAT AND A' THAT, 
 
 Is there, for honest povertj^, 
 
 That hangs his head, and a' that? 
 The coward slave, we pass him by, 
 We dare be poor for a' that! 
 
 For a' that, and a' that, 5 
 
 Our toils obscure, and a* that ; 
 The rank is but the guinea stamp, 
 The man's the gowd for a' that. 
 
 What tho' on hamely fare we dine. 
 
 Wear hodden-gray, and a' that ? lo 
 
 Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine, 
 A man's a man for a' that 1 
 For a' that, and a' that. 
 
 Their tinsel show, and a' that ; 
 The honest man, tho' e'er sae poor, 15 
 
 Is King o' men for a' that. 
 
 Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord, 
 
 Wha struts, and stares, and a' that ! 
 
 1 " A composition which, as giving in a condensed rhythmical form the 
 poetical truth which belongs to one aspect of the famous French shibboleth 
 of ' liberty, equality, and fraternity,' is perhaps unequaled in the literature of 
 the world" (J. Stuart Blackie). "The piece," wrote Burns, "is not 
 really poetry." J. Logic Robertson says : " Much of the sentiment of this 
 poem will be found in Young's Night Thoughts." 
 6 81 
 
82 ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Tho' hundreds worship at his word, 
 
 He's but a coof for a' that : 20 
 
 For a' that, and a' that, 
 
 His riband, star, and a' that, 
 The man of independent mind. 
 He looks and laughs at a' that. 
 
 A prince can mak a belted knight, 25 
 
 A marquis, duke, and a' that ; 
 But an honest man's aboon his might, 
 Guid faith he maunna fa' thatl^ 
 For a' that, and a' that. 
 
 Their dignities, and a' that, 30 
 
 The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth, 
 Are higher rank than a' that. 
 
 Then let us pray that come it may. 
 
 As come it will for a' that ; 
 That sense apd worth, o'er a' the earth, 35 
 
 May bear the gree, and a' that. 
 For a' that, and a' that. 
 
 It's coming yet, for a' that. 
 That man to man, the warld o'er. 
 
 Shall brothers be for a' that. 40 
 
 1 He cannot cause that to happen or befall. 
 
EXTRACTS 
 
 SHOWING THE WIT, WISDOM, AND SENSIBILITY 
 OF THE PLOWMAN POET. 
 
 THE PLOWMAN POET. 
 
 I MIND it weel, in early date, 
 
 When I was beardless, young, and blate, 
 
 An' first could thresh the barn, 
 Or haud a yokin at the pleugh, 
 An' tho' forfoughten sair eneugh, 5 
 
 Yet unco proud to learn, — 
 When first amang the yellow corn 
 
 A man I reckon'd was. 
 And wi' the lave ilk merry morn 
 
 Could rank my rig and lass, 10 
 
 Still shearing, and clearing 
 The tither stooked raw,i 
 Wi' claivers, an' haivers. 
 Wearing the day awa, — 
 
 Ev'n then a wish! (I mind its power) 15 
 
 A wish that to my latest hour 
 
 Shall strongly heave my breast ; 
 That I for poor auld Scotland's sake 
 Some usefu' plan or beuk could make, 
 
 Or sing a sang at least. 20 
 
 From Answer to the Guidwife of Wauchope. 
 1 The other stacked row. 
 83 
 
84 ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 HEART'S EASE. 
 
 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 making muckle, mair ; 
 It's no in books, it's no in lear, 
 
 To make us truly blest : 
 If happiness hae not her seat 
 
 And center 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. 
 Epistle to Davie, a Brother Poet. 
 
 BURNS'S MUSE. 
 
 Leeze me on rhyme! it's ay a treasure. 
 My chief, amaist my only pleasure ; 
 At hame, afiel', at wark, or leisure. 
 
 The Muse, poor hizzie! 
 Tho' rough an' raploch.be her measure. 
 
 She's seldom lazy. 
 
 Second Epistle to Davie. 
 
 NATURE'S FIRE. 
 
 What's a' your jargon o' your schools, 
 Your Latin names for horns an' stools ; 
 If honest Nature made you fools. 
 
 What sairs your grammars? 
 Ye'd better ta'en up spades and shools, 
 
 Or knappin hammers. 
 
EXTRACTS. 85 
 
 A set o' dull conceited hashes 
 Confuse their brains in college classes! 
 They gang in stirks, and come out asses, 
 
 Plain truth to speak ; i o 
 
 An' syne they think to climb Parnassus 
 
 By dint o' Greek! 
 
 Gie me ae spark o' Nature's fire, 
 
 That's a' the learning I desire ; 
 
 Then tho' I drudge thro' dub an' mire 15 
 
 At pleugh or cart, 
 My Muse, though hamely in attire. 
 
 May touch the heart. 
 
 Epistle to John Lapraik. 
 
 JUST FOR FUN. 
 
 Some rhyme a neebor's name to lash ; 
 
 Some rhyme (vain thought!) for needfu' cash; 
 
 Some 'rhyme to court the countra clash. 
 
 An' raise a din ; 
 For me, an aim I never fash : 5 
 
 I rhyme for fun. 
 
 To James Smith. 
 
 RELIGION, TRUE AND FALSE. 
 
 God knows I'm no the thing I should be 
 Nor am I even the thing I could be, 
 But, twenty times, I rather would be 
 
 An atheist clean. 
 Than under gospel colors hid be, 5 
 
 Just for a screen. 
 
 All hail. Religion, maid divine! 
 Pardon a muse sae mean as mine, 
 
86 ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Who in her rough, imperfect line 
 
 Thus daurs to name thee; lo 
 
 To stigmatize false friends of thine 
 
 Can ne'er defame thee. 
 
 They tak religion in their mouth ; 
 
 They talk o* mercy, grace, an' truth, 
 
 For what? to gie their malice skouth 15 
 
 On some puir wight, 
 An' hunt him down, o'er right an' ruth. 
 
 To ruin straight. 
 
 To the Rev. John M'Math. 
 
 NATURE'S POET. 
 
 O Nature! a' thy shews an' forms 
 To feeling, pensive hearts hae charms! 
 Whether the summer kindly warms, 
 
 Wi' life an' light, 
 Or winter howls, in gusty storms, 5 
 
 The lang, dark night! 
 
 The Muse, nae poet ever fand her, 
 Till by himsel he learn'd to wander 
 Adown some trottin burn's meander. 
 
 An' no think lang; 10 
 
 O sweet, to stray an' pensive ponder 
 
 A heartfelt sang! 
 
 To William Simpson. 
 
 AS OTHERS SEE US. 
 
 O wad some Pow'r the giftie gie us 
 To see oursels as others see us! 
 
EXTRACTS. 87 
 
 It wad frae monie a blunder free us, 
 
 And foolish notion : 
 What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us, 5 
 
 And ev'n devotion! 
 
 To a Louse. 
 
 TENT IT. 
 
 Hear, Land o' Cakes, ^ and brither Scots, 
 Frae Maidenkirk to Johnny Groat's; — 
 If there's a hole in a' your coats, 
 I rede you tent it: 
 A chield's amang you taking notes, 5 
 
 And, faith, he'll prent it. 
 On the late Captain Grose's Peregrinations. 
 
 MEND YOUR WAYS. 
 
 But fare you weel, auld Nickie-ben!^ 
 O wad ye tak a thought an' men'! 
 Ye aiblins might— I dinna ken — 
 
 Still hae a stake : 
 I'm wae to think upo' yon den, 5 
 
 Ev'n for your sake! 
 
 Address to the Deil. 
 
 JUDGE KINDLY. 
 
 Then gently scan your brother man, 
 
 Still gentler sister woman ; 
 Tho' they may gang a kennin wrang, 
 
 To step aside is human. 
 
 1 Scotland. 
 
 2 " ' Auld Nick,' for the devil, is as old in Scottish poetry as 1724" (Rob- 
 ertson). 
 
88 ROBERT BURNS. • 
 
 One point must still be greatly dark, 5 
 
 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; 10 
 
 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, 15 
 
 But know not what's resisted. 
 
 Address to the Unco Guid. 
 
 ADVICE TO YOUTH. 
 
 The fear o' hell's a hangman's whip 
 
 To haud the wretch in order ; 
 But where ye feel your honor grip, 
 
 Let that ay be your border : 
 Its slightest touches, instant pause — 5 
 
 Debar a' side pretenses ; 
 And resolutely keep its laws, 
 
 Uncaring consequences. 
 
 The great Creator to revere 
 
 Must sure become the creature; 10 
 
 But still the preaching cant forbear, 
 
 And ev'n the rigid feature : 
 Yet ne'er with wits profane to range 
 
 Be complaisance extended ; 
 An atheist laugh's a poor exchange 15 
 
 For Deity offended. 
 
EXTRACTS. 89 
 
 When ranting round in pleasure's ring, 
 
 Religion may be blinded ; 
 Or, if she gie a random sting, 
 
 It may be little minded ; 20 
 
 But when on life we're tempest-driv'n, 
 
 A conscience but a canker— 
 A correspondence fix'd wi' Heav'n 
 
 Is sure a noble anchor. 
 
 Adieu, dear amiable youth! 25 
 
 Your heart can ne'er be wanting! 
 May prudence, fortitude, and truth 
 
 Erect your brow undaunting. 
 In plowman phrase, God send you speed 
 
 Still daily to grow wiser ; 30 
 
 And may ye better reck the rede 
 
 Than ever did th' adviser! 
 
 Epistle to a Young Friend. 
 
GLOSSARY. 
 
 A', all. 
 
 Abeigh, at bay ; aloof. 
 
 Ahoon, above. 
 
 AcQUENT, acquainted. 
 
 Ae, one ; only. 
 
 Aff, off. 
 
 Affhand, offhand; at once. 
 
 Afiel, afield. 
 
 Aft, aften, often. 
 
 Agley, off the right line : asquint. 
 
 AiBLiNS, perhaps. 
 
 AiN, own. 
 
 AiRN, iron. 
 
 AlRNS, irons. 
 
 AiRT, point or quarter of the earth 
 
 or sky ; to direct. 
 Alane, alone. 
 Alang, along. 
 Amaist, almost. 
 Amang, among. 
 An', and. 
 Ance, once. 
 Ane, one. 
 AxiTHER, another. 
 An's, and is. 
 ASKLENT, obliquely. 
 A'thegither, altogether. 
 AULD, old. 
 AwA, away. 
 AwFU', awful. 
 Ay, always. 
 Ayont, beyond. 
 
 Bairns, children. 
 Baith, both. 
 Banes, bones. 
 
 Bauld, bold. 
 
 Bear, barley. 
 
 BeaS'IIE, dim. of beast. 
 
 Beets, adds fuel to fire ; incites. 
 
 Befa', befall. 
 
 Behint, behind. 
 
 Belang, belong to. 
 
 Beld, bald. 
 
 Beldam, an ugly old woman. 
 
 Belyve, by and by. 
 
 Ben, the inner or best room of a 
 
 cottage ; into the parlor. 
 Be't, be it. 
 Beuk, a book. 
 
 Bicker, a wooden bowl ; a short race. 
 Bickering, quivering. 
 Bide, to stand; to endure. 
 Biel, a habitation. 
 BiELD, shelter. 
 Big,' to build. 
 Biggin, building. 
 Billie, a comrade; good fellow; 
 
 young man. 
 Birk, the birch. 
 BiRKiE, a lively, young, forward 
 
 fellow. 
 Bizz, a bustling haste. 
 Blate, shamefaced ; sheepish. 
 Blaw, to blow ; to brag. 
 Blawn, blown. 
 Bleerit, bleared. 
 Bleeze, a blaze. 
 Bleezin, blazing. 
 Blellum, an idle, talking fellow. 
 Blether, the bladder : nonsense. 
 Bleth'rin, talking idly. 
 
 91 
 
92 
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 Blin', blind. 
 
 Blink, a short time; a look. 
 
 Blinkin, smirking. 
 
 Blinks, looks smilingly. 
 
 Blude, blood. 
 
 Bluid, blood. 
 
 Blythely, cheerfully. 
 
 Boddle, a small coin; a halfpenny. 
 
 Bogles, hobgoblins. 
 
 BoNiE, beautiful. 
 
 Bore, a hole ; a rent. 
 
 Bouses, drinks. 
 
 Brae, the slope of a hill. 
 
 Braid, broad. 
 
 Brak, did break. 
 
 Brak's, broke his. 
 
 Brattle, a short race ; hurry. 
 
 Braw, handsome ; gayly dressed. 
 
 Brawlie, perfectly. 
 
 Breastie, dim. of breast. 
 
 Breeks, breeches. 
 
 Brent, brand ; smooth ; unwrinkled. 
 
 Brig, bridge. 
 
 Brither, brother. 
 
 Buke, book. 
 
 Bunker, a seat in a window ; a chest. 
 
 Burdies, damsels. 
 
 BURNIE, streamlet. 
 
 Burns, streams. 
 
 By, past ; apart. 
 
 Byke, a beehive. 
 
 Byre, cowshed. 
 
 Ca', to drive ; a call. 
 
 Ca'd, named ; driven ; calved. 
 
 Canna, cannot. 
 
 Cannie, carefully; softly; cautious. 
 
 Cantie, cheerful; lively. 
 
 Cantraip, a charm ; a spell. 
 
 Capestane, copestone. 
 
 Carl, a man ; an old man. 
 
 Caret n, an old woman. 
 
 Ca's, calls. 
 
 Cauf, a calf. 
 
 Cauld, cold. 
 
 Chapman, a peddler. 
 
 Chiel, chield, or cheel, young 
 
 fellow ; lad. 
 Chittering, shivering with cold. 
 Chows, chews. 
 Claise, clothes. 
 Claith, cloth. 
 
 Claiver, to talk idly ; foolish talk. 
 
 Clamb, climbed. 
 
 Clap, a clapper. 
 
 Clatter, to talk idly. 
 
 Claught, caught. 
 
 Claw, scratch. 
 
 Cleekit, linked themselves. 
 
 Coft, bought. 
 
 Cog, a wooden dish. 
 
 Collieshangie, an uproar ; a quarrel. 
 
 Coou, the cud. 
 
 CooF, fool ; silly fellow. 
 
 CoosT, did cast. 
 
 Core, corps. 
 
 CouLDNA, could not. 
 
 Coulter, a knife attached to a plow. 
 
 CoUR, cower. 
 
 CowR, cower. 
 
 Cow'rin, cowering. 
 
 CoziE, cozy. 
 
 Crack, a story ; a harangue ; talk. 
 
 Craigs, crags. 
 
 Cranreuch, hoar frost. 
 
 Craw, to crow. 
 
 Creeshie, greasy. 
 
 C RON IE, an intimate comrade. 
 
 Croon, a groaning or murmuring 
 
 sound. 
 Crouse, brisk and bold. 
 Crummock, a staff with a crooked 
 
 head. 
 CuiF, blockhead; ninny. 
 Cutty, short. 
 
 Daddie, father. 
 
 Daimen-icker, an occasional ear of 
 
 corn. 
 Daur, to dare. 
 Daw, to dawn. 
 Deave, to deafen. 
 Deil, devil. 
 Differ, difference. 
 Dine, dinnertime. 
 DiNNA, do not. 
 
 Dirl, a thrilling blow; to vibrate. 
 DoOL, sorrow. 
 Dour, doure, stubborn. 
 Drap, drop; a small quantity. 
 Drapping, dropping. 
 Dribble, drizzle. 
 Droukit, wet, drenched. 
 Drouth, thirst. 
 
GLOSSARY. 
 
 93 
 
 Drouthy, thirsty. 
 Drumlie, muddy. 
 Dubs, a puddle. 
 Buddies, garments. 
 
 E'e, eye ; to watch. 
 
 Een, e'en, even, eyes. 
 
 Eldritch, elfish; strange; wild; 
 
 hideous. 
 Eneugh, enough. 
 Enow, enough. 
 Ettle, design. 
 Eydent, diligent. 
 
 Fa', lot ; also, have as one's lot, 
 olDtain. 
 
 Fa, fall. 
 
 Failins, failings. 
 
 Fairin, a present; a reward. • 
 
 Fand, found. 
 
 Fash, trouble myself. 
 
 Faught, a fight. 
 
 Fauld, a fold. 
 
 Fause, false. 
 
 Faut, fault. 
 
 Fell, keen ; biting; tasty. 
 
 Fen, a successful struggle ; a shift. 
 
 Fidge, to fidget. 
 
 FiDGiN FAIN, fidgeting with eager- 
 ness. 
 
 FiENT, fiend. The fient a, the 
 devil a. 
 
 FiERE, a companion. 
 
 Flang, did fling or caper. 
 
 Flannen, flannel. 
 
 Fleech'd, supplicated ; flattered. 
 
 Flichterin, fluttering. 
 
 Flinging, dancing wildly. 
 
 Flittering, fluttering. 
 
 Foggage, a late growth of grass. 
 
 FORFOUGHTEN, fatigued. 
 
 Forgather, meet; fall in with. 
 
 Fou, full ; tipsy. 
 
 Frae, from. 
 
 Frater-feeling, fellow-feeling. 
 
 Frien', friend. 
 
 Fu', full. 
 
 Fyke, trouble ; fuss. 
 
 Gab, the mouth ; to prate. 
 Gae, go ; gave. 
 Gaed, went. 
 
 Gane, gone. 
 
 Gang, to go. 
 
 Gar, to make. 
 
 Gart, made. 
 
 Gat, got. 
 
 Gate, manner ; way or road. 
 
 Gear, wealth; goods. 
 
 Ghaists, ghosts. 
 
 GiE, give. 
 
 Gied, gave. 
 
 Gi'en, Gien, given. 
 
 GIF, if. 
 
 Giftie, dim. of gift. 
 
 Gin, if. 
 
 Glint, shine ; gleam ; glance. 
 
 Glowr'd, looked earnestly ; stared. 
 
 Glovvrin, staring. 
 
 Gowan, the daisy. 
 
 GowD, gold. 
 
 Grannie, grandmother. 
 
 Grat, wept. 
 
 Gree, a prize ; to agree ; a grade of 
 
 excellence. 
 Greet, to weep. 
 GuDE, good. 
 GuiD, good. 
 Gully, a large knife. 
 
 Ha', hall. 
 
 Ha' Bible, hall Bible. 
 
 Hae, have. 
 
 Haffet locks, locks at the temples. 
 
 Haffets, the temples. 
 
 Hafflins, partly; growing lads. 
 
 Hain, to spare ; to save. 
 
 Hain'd, spared ; saved. 
 
 Haivers, idle talk. 
 
 Hald, an abiding place. 
 
 Hale, whole ; entire. 
 
 Halesome, wholesome. 
 
 H ALLAN, a partition wall in a cottage ; 
 
 hall end. 
 Haly, holy. 
 Hame, home. 
 Hamely, homely. 
 Han', hand. 
 Happing, hopping. 
 Harn, coarse linen. 
 Hash, a soft, useless fellow. 
 Haud, to hold. 
 Hawk IE, a cow, properly one with 
 
 a white face. 
 
94 
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 Heft, haft. 
 
 Hersel, herself. 
 
 HiMSEL, himself. 
 
 HiSTlE, dry; barren. 
 
 HiZZlE, a low word for a young 
 
 woman. 
 HoDDEN-GRAY, a coarse woolen stuflf. 
 HoDDiN, jogging; plodding. 
 Hotch'd, fidgeted. 
 HOULETS, owls. 
 HUNDER, a hundred. 
 HURDIES, hips. 
 
 IcKER, an ear of corn. 
 Ilk, each. 
 Ilka, every. 
 Ingle, the fireplace. 
 Ither, other. 
 Itsel, itself. 
 
 Jad, a jade ; a wild young woman. 
 Jauk, to dally ; to trifle. 
 Jo, sweetheart ; joy. 
 
 Kebbuck, a cheese. 
 
 Ken, know. 
 
 Kend, knew. 
 
 Kennin, a little bit. 
 
 KlAUGH, anxiety ; cark. 
 
 Kirk, church. 
 
 Knappin hammers, hammers for 
 
 breaking stones. 
 Kye, cows. 
 
 Laddie, a lad. 
 Lade, a load. 
 Laird, a landowner. 
 Lairin, sticking in mire or mud. 
 Laith, loth. 
 Laithfu', bashful. 
 Lane, alone. 
 Lang, long. 
 Lap, did leap. 
 
 Lass, lassie, a young girl ; a sweet- 
 heart. 
 Lave, the rest. 
 Lav'rocks, larks. 
 Lea'e, leave. 
 Lear, lore ; learning. 
 Leeze me, lief (or dear) is to me. 
 Len', lend. 
 Lift, heaven ; a large quantity. 
 
 Lilt, sing. 
 
 LiNKET, tripped deftly. 
 
 Linn, a waterfall. 
 
 Lint, flax. 
 
 Lo'e, to love. 
 
 Lon'on, London. 
 
 Loup, to leap. 
 
 LoupiN, lowping, leaping. 
 
 Lour, to lower; to threaten. 
 
 LuvE, love. 
 
 LuvERS, lovers. 
 
 Lyart, gray. 
 
 Mair, more. 
 
 Maist, almost. 
 
 Mak, make. 
 
 Mang, among. 
 
 Mark, a Scotch coin, 133^ pence. 
 
 Maun, must. 
 
 Maunna, must not. 
 
 Mavis, the thrush. 
 
 Meikle, as much. 
 
 M ELDER, corn sent to the mill to be 
 
 ground. 
 Men', mend. 
 Mm', mind. 
 
 Minds me, remembers me. 
 Minnie, mother. 
 Mirk, night; murky. 
 M ITHER, mother. 
 MoNiE, mony, many. 
 Moss, morass. 
 Mou', mouth. 
 MousiE, dim. of mouse. 
 MucKLE, great; big; much. 
 Mysel, myself. 
 
 Na, not ; no. 
 Nae, no. 
 
 Naebody, nobody. 
 Naething, nothing. 
 Naig, a nag. 
 Nane, none. 
 Nappy, strong ale. 
 Neebor, neighbor. 
 Noddle, the head. 
 
 O', of. 
 
 Ony, any. 
 
 O't, of it. 
 
 OURIE, shivering; drooping. 
 
 OwRE, over: too. 
 
GLOSSARY. 
 
 95 
 
 Paidle, to paddle. 
 Parritch, porridge. 
 Pattle, a plow spade. 
 Pickle, a small quantity. 
 Plaiden, plaiding. 
 Plaidie, dim. of plaid. 
 Pleugh, plow. 
 PooRTiTH, poverty. 
 Poussie, a hare. 
 Pow, the head ; the poll. 
 Pu', to pull; to gather. 
 PuiR, poor. 
 PuND, pounds. 
 
 Quean, a young woman. 
 
 Rair, to roar. 
 
 Rantix, noisy ; full of animal spirits. 
 
 Rape, a rope. 
 
 Raploch, coarse cloth. 
 
 Raw, a row. 
 
 Ream, cream. 
 
 Reck, to heed. 
 
 Rede, counsel. 
 
 Reekix, smoking. 
 
 Reekit, smoked ; smoky. 
 
 Rig, a ridge. 
 
 RiGWOODDiE, withered; sapless. 
 
 RiN, run. 
 
 Sae, so. 
 
 Saft, soft. 
 
 Sair, sore ; to serve. 
 
 Sang, song. 
 
 Sark, a shirt. 
 
 SCAITH, hurt. 
 
 Scar, a rock ; cliflf ; steep bank. 
 
 Sel, self. 
 
 Shaw, a wooded dell. 
 
 Shaw'd, showed. 
 
 Sheers, shears. 
 
 Sheuk, shook. 
 
 Shew, show. 
 
 Shiel, a hut. 
 
 Shools, shovels. 
 
 Sic, such. 
 
 Sicker, secure. 
 
 SiDELiNS, sidelong. 
 
 Siller, money; silver. 
 
 Simmer, summer. 
 
 Sin', since. 
 
 Skaith, hurt. 
 
 Skeigh, high-mettled; disdainful; 
 skittish. 
 
 Skei.LUM, a blockhead; a worthless 
 fellow. 
 
 Skelp, a slap ; to run with a slap- 
 ping, vigorous sound of the feet on 
 the ground. 
 
 Skelpit, hurried. 
 
 Skirl, to shriek. 
 
 Sklent, to slope ; to strike obliquely ; 
 to lie. 
 
 Skouth, range ; scope. 
 
 Skreech, scream. 
 
 Slaps, gates ; stiles ; gaps ; breaches. 
 
 Sleekit, sleek. 
 
 Sma', small. 
 
 Smoor'd, smothered. 
 
 Snapper, stumble. 
 
 Snash, abuse ; impertinence. 
 
 Snaw, snow. 
 
 Snell, bitter ; biting. 
 
 Snool, to cringe ; to sneak ; to snub. 
 
 Soger, a soldier. 
 
 Sough, a heavy sigh. 
 
 SOUPE, a spoonful ; a small quantity 
 of anything liquid. 
 
 SouPLE, supple. 
 
 SoUTER, a shoemaker. 
 
 Sowps, spoonfuls. 
 
 SOWTHER, to solder ; to make up. 
 
 Spak, spoke. 
 
 Spean, to wean. 
 
 Spier, to ask or inquire. 
 
 Sprackled, clambered. 
 
 Sprattle, to struggle. 
 
 Stacher, to stagger ; to walk un- 
 steadily. 
 
 Stack, stuck. 
 
 StAxNES, stones. 
 
 Staukin, stalking. 
 
 Sten, a leap ; a bound. 
 
 Stibble, stubble. 
 
 Stibble rig, the reaper in harvest 
 who takes the lead ; a stubble ridge. 
 
 Stirk, a cow or bullock a year or 
 two old. 
 
 Stocked, stacked. 
 
 Stoure, dust; dust blown on the 
 wind ; pressure of circumstances. 
 
 Stowp, cup. 
 
 Stoyte, to stumble. 
 
 Strang, strong. 
 
96 
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 Strappan, strapping. 
 Strathspey, a Scotch dance resem- 
 bling the reel. 
 SuCxH, a rushing sound. 
 Swat, did sweat. 
 Swats, new ale. 
 Swirl, a curve. 
 Syne, since ; then. 
 
 Ta'en, taken. 
 
 Tak, to take. 
 
 Tald, told. 
 
 Tapetless, heedless ; foolish ; pith 
 less. 
 
 Tauld, told. 
 
 Tent, to take heed ; mark. j 
 
 Tentie, heedful. I 
 
 Thae, these. 1 
 
 Thegither, together. j 
 
 Thir, these. 
 
 Thole, to suffer ; to endure. 
 
 Thrang, busy ; a crowd. 
 
 Thrave, twenty-four sheaves of 
 corn, making two shocks. 
 
 Till, to. ., 
 
 Till't, to it. 
 
 Tint, lost. 
 
 Tippenny, twopence. 
 
 Tither, the other. 
 
 Tittie, sister. 
 
 TODDLIN, walking unsteadily or soft- 
 ly, like an infant. 
 
 Toun, a hamlet ; a farmhouse. 
 
 Tousie, rough ; shabby. 
 
 Towmond, a twelvemonth. 
 
 Trottin, trotting. 
 
 TwA, two. 
 
 TwAL, twelve. 
 
 Tyke, a vagrant dog. 
 
 Unco, very ; great ; extreme ; 
 
 strange ; queer ; odd ; excessive. 
 Uncos, strange things ; news of the 
 
 countryside. 
 
 Unfald, unfaud, unfold. 
 Usquebae, whisky. 
 
 Vauntie, proud; in high spirits. 
 Vera, very. 
 
 Vow, an interjection of admiration 
 or surprise. 
 
 Wa', a wall. 
 
 Wad, would; a wager; towed. 
 
 Wae, sorrowful. 
 
 Waefu', woefuk 
 
 Wale, choice. 
 
 Walie, wawlie, ample ; large. 
 
 Wark, work. 
 
 Warld, world. 
 
 Warlock, a wizard. 
 
 Warst, worst. 
 
 Wasna, was not. 
 
 Waukin, awake ; watching. 
 
 Wee, little. 
 
 Weel, well. 
 
 Weet, wet. 
 
 Wha, who. 
 
 Wham, whom. 
 
 Whan, when. 
 
 Whiles, sometimes. 
 
 Whins, furze bushes. 
 
 Wi', with. 
 
 WiFiE, dim. of wife. 
 
 Willie-waught, a hearty draught. 
 
 Win', wind. 
 
 Winnock bunker, a seat in a 
 
 window. 
 Winnocks, windows. 
 Wist, knew. 
 Wow, an exclamation of surprise or 
 
 wonder. 
 Wrang, wrong. 
 Wreeths, wreaths. 
 
 Yestreen, yesternight. 
 
 YoKiN, yoking; about; a set to. 
 
 YoNT, beyond. 
 
 Youngling, youthful. 
 
 Yule, Christmas. 
 
 Note.— This glossary is taken, with some alterations, from the complete 
 edition (London) of Burns's works, edited by J. Logic Robertson, M.A. 
 
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