SCOTTISH LIBERAL CLU THE LIBRARY OF THE OF UNIVERSITY CALIFORNIA RIVERSIDE THE WORKS OF ROBERT BURNS. T[H][£ ©OKTIHllFILAi&E ©IF ©UKKT IA blast o' JaMM'ar'wins Blew ■ha.ns «-£ vri- on, Jfo b in* " THE WORKS OF ROBERT BURNS VOLUME FIRST POETR Y (EMnburgh JAMES THIN, PUBLISHER TO THE UNIVERSITY 1895 THESE VOLUMES ARE TO THOMAS CARLYLE, THE COUNTRYMAN OF ROBERT BURNS, AND THE MOST LUMINOUS ILLUSTRATOR OF HIS LIFE AND WRITINGS. PREFACE. In issuing Volume First of a new Library Edition of the entire works of Robert Burns, the editor desires to point out the peculiar claims on public attention which the present undertaking professes to offer. It seems now to be universally allowed that Burns, as an author, and as a subject of instructive and deeply interesting biographical study — chiefly, as mirrored in his own writings — is entitled to stand in the fore- most rank of British literature. It cannot, however, be alleged that any exhaustive effort has, as yet, been made to collect the whole of his poems and correspond- ence, and present these in the most attractive shape ; — shewing the author's text with critical exactness, un- abridged and untampered with, and recording the numerous and interesting variations in his manuscripts and several authorised editions. To supply that de- sideratum is the chief aim of the present publication. The poems and lyrics are arranged in strictly chrono- logical order ; the date of each composition, and the original channel of publication, are prominently re- corded ; and a very considerable number of the author's undoubted productions now, for the first time, appear in a collective form, several of these having hitherto been excluded from the public eye. The author's prose writings will be similarly arranged ; and these, taken in connection with the information Vlll PREFACE. supplied in the annotations, will afford to the reader two separate rehearsals of his thrilling life-drama told by himself — the one in poetry and song, and the other in the richest prose. The volumes will proclaim for themselves the earnest labour and efforts which have been made by both publisher and editor to obtain the poet's original manuscripts, in order to collate these with the text, and render this edition complete and satisfactory. To those holders of the poet's autograph poems and letters who have kindly lent them to be made use of in the present work, it may suffice in the meantime to state that their favours are specially acknowledged in the editorial notes attached to the respective pieces. An opportunity will be taken in the General Preface, at the completion of the work, to make farther acknowledgments, and more prominently record the names of these and future contributors. The present is not the first time the editor has come before the public as an expounder and arranger of the writings of Burns, and a delineator of submerged and mystified facts in his brief and eccentric career. He has served a long apprenticeship to the business on which he now ventures ; and, without undervaluing the labours of his predecessors, or of cotemporary workers in the same field, he is confident of producing, in these volumes, an Edition of Burns that shall leave little in the shape of new biographical facts, or fresh literary materials, to be gleaned and supplemented by others. WM - SCOTT DOUGLAS. Edinburgh, 19th Feb. 1877. CONTENTS OF VOLUME FIEST. (An asterisk is prefixed to those pieces that, either wholly or in part, are here first embraced in a professedly full edition of the author's works.) PACK I. Song — Handsome Nell, .... 1 *II. Har'ste — A Fragment, .... 3 *III. Song — Tibbie, I hae seen the day, . . 4 IV. Song — I dream'd I lay, .... 7 V. Song — In the Character of a Ruined Farmer, . 8 VI. Tragic Fragment — All villain as I am, . . 10 VII. The Tarbolton Lasses, . . . .12 *VI1I. Paraphrase of Jeremiah xv. 10, ... 13 IX. Montgomery's Peggy, .... 15 X. The Ploughman's Life, .... 16 IX. The Eonalds of the Bennals, . . . 16 XII. Song — Here's to thy health, my bonie lass, . 19 XIII. The Lass of Cessnock Banks, ... 21 XIV. Song — Bonie Peggy Alison, ... 25 XV. Song— Mary Morison, .... 26 XVI. Winter . A Dirge, ..... 28 XVII. A Prayer under the Pressure of Violent Anguish, 29 XVIII. Paraphrase of the First Psalm, . . .31 XIX. The First Six Verses of the Ninetieth Psalm versified, 32 XX. A Prayer in the Prospect of Death, . . 33 XXI. Stanzas on the Same Occasion, ... 34 XXII. Fickle Fortune— A Fragment, ... 36 XXIII. Song — Paging Fortune : A Fragment, . . 37 XXIV. I'll go and be a Sodger, .... 37 XXV. Song— No Churchman am I, ... 38 XXVI. My Father was a Farmer : A Ballad, . . 40 XXVI I. John Barleycorn: A Ballad, ... 42 X XVII I. The Death and Dying Words of Poor Mailie, . 45 I. h X CONTENTS. XXIX. XXX. XXXI. XXXII. XXXIII. XXXIV. XXXV. *XXXVI. XXXVII. XXXVIII. XXXIX. XL. XLI. XLII. *XLIII. XLIV. XLV. *XLVI. XLVII. XLVIII. XLIX. L. LI. LII. LIII. LIV. LV. LVI. LVII. LVIII. LIX. LX. LXI. LXII. LXIII. LXIV. Poor Mailie's Elegy, Song — The Rigs o' Barley, Song — Conqoosed in August, Song — My Nanie, O ! Song — Green grow the Rashes, Song — " Indeed will I," quo' Findlay, Remorse : A Fragment, Epitaph on James Grieve, Laird of Boghead, Epitaph on William Hood, Senior, Epitaph on William Muir, Epitaph on my Ever Honoured Father, . Ballad on the American War, Reply to an Announcement by J. Rankine, EjDistle to John Rankine, A Poet's Welcome to his Love-Begotten Daughter, Song — O Leave Novels ! The Mauchline Lady : A Fragment, My Girl she's airy : A Fragment, The Belles of Mauchline, Epitaph on a Noisy Polemic, Epitaph on a Henpecked Squire, Epigram on the same Occasion, Another do. do., On Tarn the Chapman, Epitaph on John Rankine, Lines on the Author's Death, Man was made to Moum : A Dirge, The Twa Herds ; or, The Holy Tulyie, Epistle to Davie, a Brother Poet, Holy Willie's Prayer, Epitaph on Holy Willie, Death and Dr Hornbook, Epistle to J. Lapraik, Second Epistle to J. Lapraik, Epistle to William Simson, One Night as I did wander, PAGE 49 51 53 55 57 59 CO 61 62 62 63 64 67 68 72 74 75 76 76 77 78 78 78 79 79 80 81 85 90 96 101 103 110 116 121 129 CONTENTS. XI LXV. Fragment of Song—" My Jean ! " LXVI. Song — Rantin, Rovin Robin, LXVII. Elegy on the Death of Robert Ruisseaux *LXVTH. Epistle to John Goldie, in Kilmarnock, LXIX. Third Epistle to J. Lapraik, LXX. Epistle to the Rev. John M'Math, LXXI. Second Epistle to Davie, LXXII. Song — Young Peggy Blooms, LXXIII. Song — Farewell to Ballochmyle, LXX1V. Fragment — Her Flowing Locks, LXXV. Halloween, LXXVI. To a Mouse, LXXVII. Epitaph on John Dove, Innkeepe LXXVIII. Epitaph for James Smith, LXXIX. Adam Armour's Prayer, LXXX The Court of Equity, LXXXI. The Jolly Beggars : A Cantata, LXXXII. Song— For a' that, LXXXIII. Song— Kissin my Katie, LXXXIV. The Cottar's Saturday Night, LXXXV. Address to the Deil, LXXXVI. Scotch Drink, LXXXVII. The Auld Farmer's New- Year Morning tion to his Auld Mare, Maggie, LXXXVIII. The Twa Dogs, . LXXXIX. The Author's Earnest Cry and Prayer, XC. The Ordination, . XCI. Epistle to James Smith, XCII. The Vision, XCTII. The Rantin Dog, the Daddie o't, XCIV. Here's his Health in Water, XCV. Address to the Unco Guid, XCVI. The Inventory, . XCV II. To John Kennedy, Dumfries House, XCVIII. To Mr M'Adam, of Craigen-Gillan, XCIX. To a Louse, Saluta- 130 L31 133 134 138 140 144 146 147 148 149 160 162 163 164 166 167 182 183 184 192 198 204 208 217 226 232 239 253 25 1 2f,. r > 258 261 263 264 Ill CONTENTS. p\r.F. C. Inscribed on a Work of Hannah's More's, 2G7 CI. The Holy Fair, 268 CII. Song — Composed in Spring, 279 CHI. To a Mountain Daisy, . . 281 CIV. To Euin, 283 CV. The Lament, . 285 CVI. Despondency : An Ode, . 288 CVII. To Gavin Hamilton, Esq., Mauchline, recommend- ing a Boy, . 291 CVIII. Versified Eeply to an Invitation, 293 CIX. Song — "Will ye go to the Indies, my Mar)- ? 294 CX. My Highland Lassie, 0, . 296" CXI. Epistle to a Young Friend, 300 CXII. Address to Beelzebub, 304 CXIII. A Dream, ..... 307 CXIV. A Dedication to Gavin Hamilton, Esq., 313 CXV. Versified Note to Dr Mackenzie, Mauchline, 319 CXVI. The Farewell to the Brethren of St James's Lodse Tarbolton, .... 320 CXVII. On a Scotch Bard, gone to the West Indies, 322 CXVIII. Song— Farewell to Eliza, . 325 CXIX. A Bard's Epitaph, 32G CXX. Epitaph for Robert Aiken, Esq., 327 CXXI. Epitaph for Gavin Hamilton, Esq., 328 CXXII. Epitaph on " Wee Johnie," 328 CXXIII. The Lass o' Ballochmyle, . 329 CXXIV. Motto prefixed to the Author's First Publication. 332 CXXV. Lines to Mr John Kennedy, 333 CXXVI. Lines to an Old Sweetheart, 333 CXXVII. Lines written on a Bank-Note, 334 CXXVIII. Stanzas on Naething, 335 CXXIX. The Farewell, .... 337 CXXX. The Calf, 339 CXXXI. Nature's Law : A Poem, . 340 CXXXII. Song— Willie Chalmers, 343 CXXXIII. Eeply to a Trimming Epistle, received fromaTailor 345 1 INDEX TO FIEST LINES. A guid new year I wish thee, Maggie ! . A' ye wha live by sowps o' drink, Adieu ! a heart-warm, fond adieu, Ae day, as Death, that gruesome carl, Again rejoicing, Nature see, A Highland lad my love was born, Ah, woe is me, my mother dear ! All hail, inexorable lord ! All villain as I am — a damned wretch, . Altho' my back be at the wa', Altho' my bed were in yon rnuir, An honest man here lies at rest, And I'll kiss thee yet, yet, As father Adam first was fool'd, As I was a-wand'ring ae morning in spring, As Mailie an' her lambs thegither, As Tarn the chapman on a day, Auld neibor, — I'm three times doubly o'er your debtor, Behind yon hills where Lugar flows, Below thir stanes lie Jamie's banes, Dear Smith, the slee'st pawkie thief, Expect na, sir, in this narration, Farewell, dear friend ! may gude luck hit Friday first's the day appointed, From thee, Eliza, I must go, Green grow the rashes, O, Gude pity me, because I'm little ! Guid-mornin to your Majesty ! Guid speed and furder to you, Johnie, you, 204 322 320 7!) 370 172 13 283 11 254 15 62 25 78 16 45 7!) 144 55 77 232 313 333 319 325 57 1(14 307 1 38 XIV INDEX TO FIRST LINES. Ha! whaur ye gaun, ye crowlin ferlie? He who of Bankine sang, lies stiff and dead, Her flowing locks, the raven's wing, Here Holy Willie's sair worn clay, Here lies Boghead amang the dead, Here lies Johnie Pigeon, Here Souter Hood in death does sleep, Here's to thy health, my bonie lass, I am a bard of no regard, I am a keeper of the law, I am a son of Mars, I dream'd I lay where flowers were springing, I gat your letter, winsome Willie, I hold it, sir, my bounden duty, I lang hae thought, my youthfu' friend, I once was a maid, If ye gae up to yon hill-tap, I'm three times doubly o'er your debtor, In Mauchline there dwells six proper young belles, In Tarbolton, ye ken, there are proper young men, Is there a whim-inspired fool, It was upon a Lammas night, Kilmarnock wabsters fidge and claw, Know thou, O stranger to the fame, Lament him, Mauchline husbands a', Lament in rhyme, lament in prose, Let me ryke up to dight that tear, Let other poets raise a fracas, Long life, my lord, an' health be yours, My bonie lass, I work in brass, . My father was a farmer upon the Carrick border My girl she's airy, she's buxom and gay, My lov'd, my honor'd, much respected friend 1 Nae gentle dames, tho' ne'er sae fair, No churchman am I for to rail and to write, Now breezy win's and slaughtering guns, PA on 264 80 148 101 61 162 62 19 177 67 168 7 121 291 300 169 12 144 76 16 326 51 226 327 163 49 174 198 304 175 40 76 184 296 38 3 INDEX TO FIRST LINES. XV Now, Kennedy, if foot or horse, . Now Robin lies in his last lair, . Now westlin winds and slaughtering guns, O a' ye pious godly flocks, O Death, had'st thou but spar'd his life, O Gowdie, terror, o' the whigs, leave novels, ye Mauchline belles, O Mary, at thy window be, merry hae I been teethin a heckle, O once I lov'd a bonie lass, raging Fortune's withering blast, O rough, rude, ready-witted Rankine, O Thou Great Being ! what Thou art, O thou pale orb that silent shines, O Thou, the first, the greatest friend, O Thou unknown, Almighty cause, O Thou ! whatever title suit thee, O Thou, who in the heavens does dwell, O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, O wha my babie-clouts will buy 1 why the deuce should I repine, O ye wha are sae guid yoursel, O ye whose cheek the tear of pity stains, Of all the numerous ills that hurt our peace — On Cessnock banks a lassie dwells ; Once fondly lov'd, and still remember'd dear, One night as I did wander, One Queen Artemisa, as old stories tell, . Oppress'd with grief, oppress'd with care, See the smoking bowl before us, . Sir, as your mandate did request, Sir, o'er a gill I gat your card, Sir Wisdom's a fool when he's fou, Sir, yours this moment [ unseal, Some books are lies frae end to end, The Catrine woods were yellow seen, The man, in life wherever plac'd, The poor man weeps — here Gavin sleeps, PAQB 261 133 53 85 78 134 74 26 183 1 37 68 30 285 32 33 192 96 4 253 37 255 63 60 21 333 129 78 288 179 258 263 170 ±)?, 103 147 31 328 XVI INDEX TO FIRST LINES. The simple Bard, unbroke by rules of ai*t, The sun had clos'd the winter day, The sun he is sunk in the west, . The wintry west extends his blast, There's nought but care on every hand, . There was a lad was born in Kyle, There was three Kings into the east, Tho' cruel fate should bid us part, Tho' women's minds, like winter winds, Thou flattering mark of friendship kind, Though fickle fortune has deceived me, . Thou's welcome, wean ; mishanter fa' me, To you, sir, this summons I've sent, 'Twas even — the dewy fields were green, 'Twas in that place o' Scotland's Isle, Upon a Simmer Sunday morn, Upon that night, when fairies light, Wae worth thy power, thou cursed leaf, Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flow'r, Wee, sleeket, cowrin, tim'rous beastie, \Vha is that at my bower-door ] . tVhen chill November's surly blast, When first I came to Stewart Kyle, When Guildford good our pilot stood, When lyart leaves bestrow the yird, While at the stook the shearers cow'r, While briers and woodbines budding green, While winds frae off Ben-Lomond blaw, While new-ca'd kye rowte at the stake, . Whoe'er thou art, O reader, know, Why am I loth to leave this earthly scene 1 Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary, Ye Irish lords, ye knights an' squires, Young Peggy blooms our boniest lass, PAGE 332 239 8 28 57 131 42 130 182 207 36 72 335 329 208 268 149 334 281 160 59 81 75 64 167 140 110 90 116 328 34 294 217 146 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. I. Portrait of Burns, engraved by Robert Anderson from the original painting by Alexander Nasmytli — kindly lent for the purpose by Her Majesty's Board of Manufactures for Scotland. Frontispiece. II. Birthplace of the Poet, engraved by "William Forrest from the original drawing by Sam Bough, R.S.A. — in the possession of the Publisher. Vignette to face the Portrait. III. Figure of the " Scottish Muse," as represented in the poem " The Vision," with the wreath of holly in her hand, engraved by Robert Anderson from an original drawing by Clark Stanton, A.R.S.A. Vignette on title page. IV. Map of the district of Ayrshire more intimately associated with the Life and Works of the Poet, as at the close of last century. To face page 1. V. Fac-simile from the original MS. of "A Prayer under the Pressure of Violent Anguish." To face page 30. VI. Fac-simile from the original MS. of " Green Grow the Rashes." To face page 57. VII. Fac-simile from the identical MS. as sent by Burns to Lapraik in 1785, shewing his signature at the close of the poem. To face page 115. VIII. Fac-similes of the Inscriptions in the two volumes of the Bible presented by the Poet to " Highland Mary." Pages 298, 299. IX. Interior of the kitchen of Mossgiel farm-house looking through the passage to the " Spence," alluded to in the " Vision." The foot of the stair, shewn between the two apartments, led up to the Poet's little bedroom and study — engraved from an original drawing by Sir Wm. Allan, P.R.S.A., now in the possession of W. F. Watson, Es" on this point is visible, even in Mr Carlyle's, in many respects, incomparable essay. The poet had at Kirk- oswald and Irvine learned to drink, and he was all his life liable to social excesses, but it is unfair to say that "his character for sobriety was destroyed." Most of his best work was done at Mossgiel, and in- 20 ROBERT BURNS. spired by the country around, or in Mauchline itself. This, the most suggestive of his haunts, has suffered less than most places from railway, or pit, or mine, or the importunity of pro- fessional showmen. A new road has been made through the quiet village, and a new steeple set in the midst of it without doing much to mar its homeliness. The Poet, whose renown beyond the Atlantic brought hither Nathaniel Hawthorne, still haunts the streets. Our eyes may yet rest upon the Priory, and on the Corse, where he found the girl who was his fate hanging up clothes to dry. We have access to the crib in the Back Causeway to which he brought her home, and to the alehouse of Nanse Tinnock. Whence, through the churchyard, by the graves of the twins and the Armours, of Daddy Auld and his " black bonnet," — William Fisher, — of the good Gavin and the ill-fated Margaret Kennedy, between the site of Moodie's tent and the lunching booths of the Holy Pair, we come to that of Johnny Dow's " Arms," with its " roaring trade," and the windows from which the lovers beckoned across the lane. We pass on the other side to Poosie Nansie's howff, where "the vera girdle rang" with the wildest of vagrant revels, on which we can almost see Burns interloping with his cronies Richmond and Smith, or "setting up" the Cowgate with "Common-sense" Mackenzie, or loitering along the main with Lapraik and Kennedy. We picture him taking the east road, and coming over " the drucken steps" to the race-course, where (in April 1784 or '85, v. Vols. I. and IV.) he first met "the jewel " of the "six proper young belles ; " and so back by the upland fields to watch the gloamin' growing grey over the Galston moors ; or the south to Catrine, where he was entertained and recog- nised by Dugald Stewart ; or another to the Whitefoords at Ballochmyle ; or another to Coilsfield, " the Castle o' Mont- gomerie," whose banks and braes yet blossom with his name, to call on his early patron, afterwards the Earl, Sir Hugh. Lastly, we loiter down the Faille till it trickles into the Ayr, by a grove more poetically hallowed than the fountain of Vaucluse or Julie's bosque. There is no spot in Scotland so created for a modern idyll, none leaves us with such A SUMMARY OF HIS CAREER AND GEXIUS. 21 an impression of perfect peace as this, where the river, babbling over a shelf of pebbles to the left, then hushed through " birch and hawthorn," and Narcissus willows, mur- muring on, heedless of the near and noisy world, keeps the memory green of our minstrel and his Mary. Burns's life during the years 1784--SG was mainly con- cerned with three matters — a keen religious controversy, the intimacy that resulted in his marriage, the full blaze and swift recognition of his genius. The poet, brought up like his countrymen in the Calvin- istic theology, was by nature and circumstance soon led to question and " puzzle " the tenets of his ancestors. Proud of his polemic skill, and shining " in conversations between sermons," he at Irvine, if not before, was familiarised with "liberal opinions " in speculation in connection with laxity in life ; he continued to hold them in better com- pany. Ayrshire had been, for some time, the headquarters of a Theological Conservatism, often combined with Radical Politics ; but, during this period, several of the pulpits were occupied by men affected by the wider views prevailing in the literary circles of the capital, where Polite Literature, seldom on close terms with Fanaticism, was represented by Robertson, and Blair, and Beattie, and Mackenzie. The clergymen of the " New Licht," or Moderate party, were, compared with their antagonists, men of "light and leading," learning and mauners. They read more, wrote better, and Studied their fellows from various points of view. Scholars and gentlemen, personally without reproach, they believed not only in good works, but occasionally in good cheer, made allowances for sins of blood, and were inclined to "gently scan t heir brother man, still gentler sister woman." The representa- tives of the " Auld Licht " party, on the other hand, were more potent in the pulpit. M 'Kin lay and Moodie, — Black Jock Russell and Peebles, Father Auld, and Steven "The Calf," never shot over the heads of the people by references to Aris- totle's Ethics or Cicero's Offices: they charmed the mob by the half physical excitement of vehement words and vulgar *22 ROBERT BURNS. action: knotty points of faith, which their opponents were apt to slur, they cleared at once "wi' rattlin' and wi' thumpin'," and when patrons, like Glencairn, being men of culture, began in their appointments to be influenced by the regard of like for like, they raised against them the cry of " Patronage " — " Come join your counsels and your skills To co we the lairds ;" a cry, so well chosen in a democratic country that, despite Bacon's " exceptis rebus divinis," despite Burns's comment — " And get the brutes the power themsels To choose their herds," it has, after a century's fight, with results yet to be seen, carried the day. Few criticisms on the poet have done justice to his friends the Moderates. Liberal conservatives, with excessive " Economy," as is their wont, have passed the question by. The orators and pamphleteers of that off- shoot of the Church, Avhose name is a masterpiece, almost a miracle, of misnomenclature, have been left free to rail at large at a body of men, on the whole, among the best of their age. Maligned as " mundane," because they looked on the round world as a place to live, not merely to die in ; and held to be " coarse-minded " because they did not become hysterical, the historian will give them the credit of helping to keep the country sane. That these men appreciated, esteemed, and invited Burns to their houses has of course been lamented : even the philosopher and guide of John Sterling says the poet learned " more than was good for him " at the tables of the New Licht, but it is unjust to weight them, on the ground of unauthenticated anec- dotes, with the responsibility of his already formed opinions. Accomplished Broad-Church clergymen may have pointed some of the arrows in his quiver, but it was the indecorum of his adversaries and loyalty to his friends that set them flying. By all accounts, his landlord, Gavin Hamilton, was of the salt of the earth, upright, genial, "the puir man's friend," himself in word and deed a gentleman ; but he openly espoused A SUMMARY OF HIS CAREER AND GENIUS. 23 the liberal cause, and the Rev. Mr Auld,a person, says Cromek, "of morose and malicious disposition," having had a feud with Hamilton's father, sought every occasion of venting his spite on the son, whose child he refused to christen, for the follow- ing reasons : — Hamilton was seen on horseback and ordered his gardener to dig a few potatoes (for which the gardener was afterwards ecclesiastically dealt with) on the Lord's Day, he was heard to whistle on a Fast Day, and said " damn it " before Mr Auld's very face. High social posi- tion, stainless life and benevolence were as nothing against the fact that he played at cards, and on Sundays only went once to church ; the straiter sect already regarded him with venomous looks. Robert Aitken, another staunch friend whose acquaintance Burns made at the Castle, and to whom he dedicated " The Cottar's Saturday Night," on similar grounds came in for his share of the same narrow virulence. The poet watching his opportunity, found it on one of the frequent occasions when the practice of those severe censors shamed their precept. Pecuniary differences are touch-stones of religious profession, and two shining Auld Licht divines, being at variance as to their parochial bounds, abused each other in open court, with more than average theological indecency. " Sic twa — O do I live to see't, Sic famous twa should disagree, An' names like villain, hypocrite, Ilk ither ge'en, While new-light herds with laughin' spite Say neither's lee'in." In this wise, Burns struck from the shoulder, and seizing on Pope's lacerating lines — " Blockheads with reason wicked wits abhor, But fool with fool is barbarous civil war," launched at the Pharisees his " Twa Herds, or Holy Tulyie." By this piece, towards the close of 1784, his reputation as a satirist, next to that of a lyrist, his title-deed to fame, was made at a stroke. No wonder the liberals, whose weakness lay in lark of demagogic art, clapped their hands and drank 24 ROBERT BURNS. their claret with added relish "upon that day"! Here was a man of the people, speaking for the people, and making the people hear him, fighting their battle in a manner hitherto unknown among their ranks. The first shot fired, the guns of the battery rattled and rang, volley on volley. " Holy Willie's Prayer," with the Epistles to Goudie, Simp- son, and M/Math, " The Holy Fair," besides " The Jolly Beggars " and the " Address to the Deil," inspired in part at least by the same spirit, were written in 1785. To the next year belong " The Ordination," the " Address to the Unco Guid," " The Calf," and the " Dedication to Hamilton," — a sheaf which some of the admirers of the poet's softer mood would fain pluck out of his volume and cast like tares into the oven. They fail to perceive that, for good or ill, they represent as essential a phase of his genius as the lighter characters of the Canterbury Tales do that of Chaucer. Burns' religious satires are an inalienable part of his work ; though, for some years after his Edinburgh success, the fire which prompted them smouldered, it sends out continual sparks in his letters, and three years later, on the prosecution of his friend M'Gill, it blazed into the fierce blast of " The Kirk's Alarm." " Orthodox, orthodox, wha believe in John Knox, Let me sound an alarm to your conscience ; There's a heretic blast has been blawn in the West, That what is no sense, must be nonsense." A keen adversary and unscrupulous controversialist admits that these lines, once sent abroad, cannot be sup- pressed by Bowdlerism. "Leviathan is not so tamed." No, nor can Michael's flaming sword be so blunted. It is hard to say what the writer might not have done for religious liberty in Scotland, had not the weight of his judgment been lessened, as the cogency of Milton's views on Divorce, by the fact that he was, in part at least, fighting for his own hand. Speculative opinion has less to do with some aspects of morality than is generally supposed ; but it was unfor- tunate for the poet that, when the Kirk-Session of Mauchline A SUMMARY OF HIS CAREER AND GENIUS. 25 met to look over their artillery, they found, by his own con- fession, a weak point in his armour. No biography of Burns can be complete that does not discuss with some detail the delicate matters connected with his relation to the other sex ; but, in the slight survey to which we are confined, it must be enough to glance at the main facts and draw an inference. Philosophical moralists have, with considerable force, asserted that the root of all evil is selfishness ; but in practice this takes two directions so distinct that they mark two distinct types of evil, the one exhibited in various forms of dishonesty, hypocrisy, meanness, or fraud ; the other in incontinence of speech, of diet, or in relations of sex. In the worst type, e.g., that of Richardson's Lovelace, that of the deliberate seducer and deserter, they are combined. The chaste commercial rogue, who gives tithes of his plunder, is, as a rule, too tenderly dealt with by the Church ; the man — unfairly not the woman — who yields to every gust, is perhaps too tenderly de^lt with by the World. Burns, it must be admitted, was in ihis respect emphatically " passion's slave," and yet a na.tioL ostentatiously proud of its morality wears him in its " h?art of hearts." He was more reckless in his loves than Lorl Byron, almost as much so as King David ; but he was neve ■ treacherous, and, in contrast with the sickly sentimentalist Rousseau, he never sought to shirk the consequences of his misdeeds. When accordingly, in November 1784-, his " Dear bought Bess," the result of a liaison during the last days of Lochlea, made her appearance, she was hailed in " The Welcome " with a sincere affection, brought up in the family, and shared their fortunes. This event brought Burns within the range of ecclesiastical censure, which, considering that it was an established custom not to be waived out of respect even for the person of a poet, he too keenly resented. Shortly before or after, he was implicated in another affair with a more serious result. It is dogmatism to pretend certainty as to the date of his first meeting with his Jean, depending as it does on the original presence or interpolation of a stanza in 26 ROBERT BURNS. the Epistle to Davie; but only in the last month of 1785 must their intimacy have culminated. Mr Armour, a well-to-do master mason, and strict " Auld Licht," who hated freedom of thought and speech when com- bined with poverty, from the first set himself against the courtship as a prelude to an undesirable alliance. Burns was accordingly driven to contract a clandestine marriage by acknowledging the girl in writing as his wife ; a form still valid. When, however, their relation was discovered, the incensed parents, with a disregard of her honour which forfeits their claim to our respect, persuaded her to destroy her " lines " and repudiate her bargain. By this step, assigned to April 13, 1786, and the transgressor's second appearance, July 9, on the bad eminence of the stool of repentance, with a view to obtain a certificate of bachelor- ship, both parties — mistakenly as lawyers now maintain — seem to have thought that the irregular alliance was annulled. The poet gave vent to his outraged feelings in " The Lament " and the last stanza of " The Daisy," and finding himself out of friends and favour, holding that " hungry ruin had him in the wind," gave up his share of the Farm, resolved to seek refuge in exile, and accepted a situation as book-keeper to an estate in Jamaica. The Armours, rejecting his overtures of reconciliation and threat- ening him with legal proceedings, put spurs to his intent ; he hurried on the publication of his poems, and with the pro- ceeds bought a steerage passage in a ship to sail from Greenock on the 1st September. Burns expected a wife to go with him or to follow him ; but it was not Jean. Nothing in his career is so startling as the interlineation of his loves ; they played about him like fire-flies ; he seldom remembered to be off with the old before he was on with the new. Allured by two kinds of attraction, those which were mainly sensual seem scarcely to have interfered with others of a higher strain. It is now undoubted that his white rose grew up and bloomed in the midst of his passion-flowers. Of his attachment to Mary Campbell, daughter of a Campbelton A SUMMARY OF HIS CAREER AND GENIUS. 27 sailor, and sometime nurse to the infant son of Gavin Hamilton, he was always chary of speech. There is little record of their intimacy previous to their betrothal on the second Sunday, the 14th of May 1786, when, standing one on either bank of the Faille, they dipped their hands in the brook, and holding between them a Bible, — on the two volumes of which half obliterated inscriptions still remain, — they swore everlasting fidelity. Shortly after she returned to her native town, where " Will you go to the Indies, my Mary ? " and other songs w r ere sent to her. Having bespoken a place in Glasgow for Martinmas, she went in the autumn to Greenock to attend a sick brother, and caught from him a fever which proved fatal at some date before October 12, when her lair was bought in the West Kirkyard, now, on her account, the resort of pilgrims. Mrs Begg's story of Burns receiving the news of her death has been called in question ; but how deep the buried love lay in his heart is known to every reader of his verse. After flowing on in stillness for three years, it broke forth as the inspiration of the most pathetic of his songs — "Thou lingering star with lessening ray," composed in the course of a windy October night, when musing and watching the skies about the corn-ricks at Ellisland. Three years later, it may have been about the same harvest time, even on the same anniversary, the re- ceding past, with a throng of images, sad and sweet, again swept over him, and bodied itself forth in the immortal lyric — " Ye banks and braes and streams around the Castle o' Montgomery," which is the last we hear of Highland Mary. Meanwhile Burns had arrived at the full consciousness of being a poet, and, though speaking with almost unbe- coming modesty of his rank, in comparison with Ramsay and FergUBBon, had, by his own statement, as high an opinion of his work as he ever entertained. His fertility during the years l785-8G,more especially in the period between November l78o and April 178G, lias rarely been 28 ROBERT BURNS. equalled. Among the pieces conceived behind the plough, and transcribed before he went to sleep in his garret over the " but and ben " of the farm-house, in addition to his anti-Calvinistic satires, and Dr Hornbook, of more local interest, were " The Twa Dogs," " The Author's Prayer," "The Vision," and "The Dream," "Halloween," "The Farmer's Address to his Mare," " The Cottar's Saturday Night," The two Epistles to Davie and three to Lapraik, the lines to a Mouse and to a Daisy, "Scotch Drink," "Man was made to Mourn," and " The Jolly Beggars." These, with the exception of the last, along with some of his most popular songs, were included in his first volume. Preparations for publishing it at Kilmarnock began in April; it appeared on July 31st under the auspices of Hamilton, Aitken, and other of his friends. The result was an almost instant success, if not a thorough apprecia- tion. Of an edition of 600, at the end of the month only 41 copies remained unsold. This epitome of a genius, so pronounced and so varied, expressing itself so tersely and yet so clearly — for there was not a word in the volume that any Scotch peasant who could read could fail to understand — took its audience by storm, and set all the shores of the West in a murmur of acclaim. It only brought to the author ,£20 direct return, but it introduced him to the literary world. Mrs Dunlop of Dunlop began with him the correspondence which testifies to a nine years' friendship. Dugald Stewart invited him to his house at Catrine, where he met Lord Daer, and found his first ex- perience of the aristocracy a very pleasant one. Somewhat later H. Mackenzie gave him a favourable review in the Lounger, extracts from which were copied into the London papers. Of Stewart, Burns speaks at all times with affec- tionate respect ; the philosopher bears as emphatic testimony to the favourable impression made by the first appearance of the poet, and to the high qualities of mind which he exhibited in their frequent walks together about the Braid Hills in the subsequent spring — to the inde- pendence of his manners, a consciousness of worth devoid A SUMMARY OF HIS CAREER AND GENIUS. 29 of vanity, and the fluency, precision, and originality of his speech. " He had a very strong sense of religion, and expressed deep regret at the levity with which he had heard it treated in some convivial meetings." " All the faculties of his mind were equally vigorous." " From his conversation I should have pronounced him fitted to excel in whatever walk of ambition he had chosen to exert his abilities. He was fond of remarking on character, shrewd, and often sarcastic, but extravagant in praise of those he loved. Dr Robertson thought his prose, considering his education, more remarkable than his verse." From August till the middle of November, during which time he had written "The Brigs of Ayr," "The Lass of Ballocbmyle,"" Tarn Samson's Elegy," and other minor pieces, preparations for the poet's departure were proceeding. On the 2Gth of September he writes to his Montrose cousin that it will not take place till after harvest ; but, a month later, he is still bent on the Indies. Coming back over Galston Moor from a visit to that excellent Moderate (his friend, Dr Laurie of Loudon), he wrote "The gloomy night is falling fast," ending " Farewell, the bonie banks of Ayr." In the interval, incited by Mr Hamilton to venture on a second edition, he was discouraged by the temerity of the Kilmarnock printer ; but an enthusiastic letter, transmitted by Laurie, from the blind poet, Dr Blacklock, and the pros- pect of the support of the Earl of Glencairn, induced him to stay his steps and try his fortune in the Scotch metropolis. He wlin had sung " Freedom and whisky gang together," was not to be an overseer of slaves, but an exciseman. He left Mauchline on a pony on the 27th, and reached Edinburgh on the 28th November, with passports that promised him a lair start, in the "pastures new," on which he now, in his twenty-ninth year, broke ground. V.— Fifth Period, Edinburgh, Nov. 17SG-J77rv/ 1788. (A 28-;; 0.) In the northern capital of these days there was more of Auld Reekie, less of Modern Athens ; the iron-road had not 30 ROBERT BURNS. replaced the Nor-Loch, the main thoroughfare ran down from the Castle to Holyrood, and the banks of the valley were nndisfigured by domineering hotels or the College towers which have roused Mr Ruskin's wrath. The first sio:ht of a city, moreover, is as attractive to a countryman, as the first glimpse of the sea to an inlander. We can easily imagine that the poet, attracted alike by the picturesque grandeur of the place and its historical associations, spent the first days after his arrival in wandering about the quaint old streets, looking into shop windows, rambling up Arthur Seat, and gazing over the Frith on the Lomonds. We can fancy him taking off his hat at the threshold of Allan Ramsay's barber shop, or seeking out the " narrow house " of Fergusson, in Canongate Kirk, and kneeling to kiss the sod on which he, at his own expense, erected the memorial to his neglected predecessor. But if he kept apart for a time from society, it was from choice not necessity ; armed with introductions to Dr Blacklock and the Earl of Glencairn, the favour of Mr Stewart, and that of his amiable critic, Mr Mackenzie, secured, and the literary world of the place on tip-toe to see him, he soon became acquainted with Drs Blair and Gregory, Mr Fraser Tytler, Henry Erskine, Lord Monboddo (who had vaguely guessed what Mr Darwin is generally held to have proved), and his daughter, the fair theme of several of his minor verses. In short, before a week was over, he found himself, in his own words, suddenly " translated from the veriest shades of life " to the centre of the most distinguished circles. He was by the scholars of that brilliant time, by the bench and the bar, by fashion and by beauty, welcomed, courted, feasted, and admired. "The town," wrote Mrs Cockburn towards the close of the year, " is at present all agog with the ploughman poet. . . He has seen Duchess Gordon and all the gay world. His favourite for looks and manners is Bess Burnett, no bad judge indeed." It has been suggested that the sudden change of life must have been prejudicial to his health ; but no man was ever less spoiled by adulation. When Burns first saw the mental and social aristocracy of the land, and they saw him, they met on equal terms. A SUMMARY OF HIS CAREER AND GENIUS. 31 " In the whole strain of his bearing," we are told, "he mani- fested his belief that in the society of the most eminent men of his nation he was exactly where he was entitled to be ; hardly deigning to flatter them by exhibiting a symptom of being flattered." " I never saw a man," says Scott, " in company with his superiors in station or information more perfectly free from either the reality or the affectation of embarrassment. His address to females was extremely deferential, with a turn either to the pathetic or the humorous, which engaged their attention particularly. . . . He was much caressed in Edinburgh, but the efforts made for his relief were extremely trifling." With all his essential modesty, the poet must have felt a glow of triumph at the impression made by his matchless conversational power, according to Lockhart, who had the reports of auditors, " the most remarkable thing about him." The Duchess of Gordon said he was the only man who ever " carried her off her feet ; " Ramsay of Ochtertyre, " I have been in the com- pany of many men of genius, but never witnessed such flashes of intellectual brightness as from him, the impulse of his moment, sparks of celestial fire ; " and the brilliant Maria Riddell, the best friend of his later days, " I hesitate not to affirm — and in vindication of my opinion I appeal to all who had the advantage of personal acquaintance with him — that poetry was actually not his forte . . . none have ever outshone Burns in the charm — the sorcery I would almost call it — of fascinating conversation. . . . The rapid lightnings of his eye were always the harbingers of some flash of genius. . . . His voice alone could improve upon the magic of his eye." The poet went home from assem- blages of learning, wit, and grace, where he had been posing professors, arguing down lawyers, and turning the heads of reigning beauties, to share with his friend Richmond, then a writer's apprentice, a crib in Baxter's Close, Lawnmarket, J"i which they paid together three shillings a week. Not 'infrequently he dropped in by the way upon gatherings of another sort, knots of boon companions met where the wine went taster and the humour was more akin to that of the 32 ROBERT BURNS. Tarbolton Lodge. For the chief of these free-thouo-hted and loose-worded clubs, nicknamed that of the Crochallan Fencibles, he afterwards compiled the collection of unconven- tional songs* — some amusing, others only rough — known as the "Merry Muses," to which he contributed a few pieces. Like Chaucer, he owed half his power to the touch of Bohemianism that demands now and then a taste of wild life. The English poet did not meet his Host or Miller amoncp his fellow ambassadors, and the Scotch bard must often have left the company of Drs Blair and Robertson with an irresistible impulse to have his fling among the Rattlin' Willies of the capital, whose example possibly led him to form other connections of a kind to be regretted. But it is hard to see how this could have been prevented by any interposition of his high-class friends, or how, desjDite Scott's reproach, they could, at this stage, have done anything for the pecuniary relief of a man at once so wayward and so proud. They did him substantial service in facilitating the publication of his poems, and taking measures to ensure their success. Lord Glencairn introduced him to the publisher Creech, and got the members of the Caledonian Haut to take 100 copies of the second edition. It appeared 21st April 1787, had nearly 3000 subscribers, and ultimately brought the author about £500 ; a sum which enabled him, besides handing over a handsome amount, £200, to his brother, to undertake several excursions, and, when the time came, to stock a new farm. This volume, containing most of the pieces in the Kilmarnock impression, with others, as the " Winter Night " (the sole important product of December 1786), was several times reprinted during his life. In the spring, Burns entered into an agreement to aid the engraver Johnson in his "Museum," to the six volumes of which — the last published shortly after his death — he gave about 180 songs. In September 1792 he was invited by Mr George Thomson to supply material for a similar work, the "Melodies of Scotland." On this undertaking also, he entered with * Bums kept this volume under lock and key, and it was odIv printed, with doubtful propriety, for limited circulation, after his death. A SUMMARY OF HIS CAREER AND GENIUS. 33 alacrity, only stipulating that he should not be required to write in classic English, and contributed in all about 100 songs, wholly original, or so recast from older models as to make them really new. The leisure of the last nine years of the poet's life — i.e., from 1787 to 1796, was almost wholly devoted to these two enterprises ; his other poetic performances being, with one exception, insignificant. Nothing was said about money, and his work was, in the one case entirely, in the other nearly, gratuitous. On the publication of his first half volume, Thomson, with a note of thanks, sent to Burns a shawl for his wife, a picture by Allan representing the " Cottar's Saturday Night," and £5. Such an acknowledg- ment of a treasure " above rubies " has provoked inevitable derision. It has been pleaded for Thomson that he had then only received an instalment of a tenth part of the work, that he was far from affluent, and that he put the whole of the songs at the disjDOsal of Dr Currie, when, on the poet's death, that gentleman was about to edit an edition for the benefit of his family. At all events, Burns indignantly stopped any similar advance : he only forbears returning his corre- spondent's " pecuniary parcel " because " it might savour of affectation ; " if he hears a word more of such " debtor and creditor traffic " he will " spurn the whole transaction ; " his songs are " either below or above price." Whatever the " motif " of this letter — a point which his inconsistency in money matters, for he had not hesitated to dun Creech for his due, and his frequent irony, leaves doubtful — he abode by his determination never again to write for "cold unfeel- ing ore." In 1795, when requested by the editor of a high- s London newspaper to furnish weekly an article for the " poetical department" at a remuneration of £52 a year, he refused the offer. It is calculated that, including the profits of the re-issue of his poems in 1793, he had up to the date of hi- death received for the literary labour of fifteen years •'hut £900 ; less than a third of the sum paid to Moore for " Lallab Rooke," but a hundred times the outcome to Milton of " Paradise Lost." Wisely, in any case, Burns 34 ROBERT BURNS. was never seduced by a popularity he feared to be evanescent, to think of literature as a means of livelihood. He adopted, by anticipation, the advice of Sir Walter Scott — never more apposite than now — " Let your pen be your pastime, your profession your anchor," and, with the idea of an independence at the plough-tail foremost in his mind, was already negotiating with Mr Patrick Miller of Dalswinton for a tenancy of a farm on the banks of the Nith. With a view to explore the ground, he on May 5th started on the Border tour, with his friend Ainslie of the Crochallans, of most of which we have in his journal a sufficient record. From other sources we learn that, on his return, he arrived at Mossgiel on the 8th of June. "0 Robbie," his mother is said to have cried, as she met her son un- announced at the farm-house door. Enough has been said — sometimes rather rhapsodically — of an event so ready for rhe- toric. The prodigal had gone into a far country and returned with a laurel crown. In the old homestead all was sun- shine, no one suspects maternal tenderness or scrutinises fraternal praise ; but the poet did not receive so graciously the civilities of his " plebeian brethren," who, nine months before, had taken the other side of the street, and were ready to hound him into exile. The adulation of success, which follows on insolence to calamity, is sure, on another turn of the wheel, to be again reversed ; and Burns was all through the blare and blaze manfully conscious that his triumph was meteoric. The old Armours were conspicuously deferential, and got the return they deserved in his expression of disgust at their " mean, servile compliance." With the daughter it was different, and he flew, as Professor Wilson naively expresses it, " too fervently to the arms of his Jean." After hovering for a few days about Mauchline, he, driven by a wandering impulse, or lured by the haunts of his lost Mary, rushed off on an expedition to the West Highlands, that has been called mysterious, because we have no record of it, save a few letters and an epigram composed at Inveraray, which shows, as might have been expected, that he did not find A SUMMARY OF HIS CAREER AND GENIUS. 35 the atmosphere of the metropolis of the Argyles congenial. After a month spent, on his return, in Ayrshire, we find him, early in August, back in Edinburgh, where the fame of his volume made him more a lion than ever in the circles of his former friends, and opened to him others. Unmoved by flattery or favour, he, in one respect only, betrayed a morbid self-consciousness. He was suspicious of being stared at, intolerant of condescension, and too nervously on his guard against the claims of learning or of rank. This feeling appears in the " Winter Night " and passages of the Common-place Book, in which he takes notes of the "charac- ters and manners" as they rose around him. These pen and ink sketches are, on the whole, conceived in a spirit of friendli- ness, but they are also coloured by a cynical vein, and it is hardly to be wondered at that when extracts — of course the severest — began to be circulated, people did not feel envious of a place among them. There is little to add of the spring and summer of this year save a few records of the poet's impressionableness, generosity, and patriotic enthusiasm. In January he writes to Hamilton that he has almost persuaded a Lothian farmer's daughter to accompany him. In February he applied for and obtained permission to erect the tomb- stone over Fergusson. In March, answering Mrs Scott of Wauchope, he wrote the famous Epistle, with the well-worn lines beginning, " E'en then a wish, I mind its power," and sent some grateful verses to Glencairn, which, as appears, he did not obtain permission to publish. The memory of that accomplished nobleman rests securely on the stanzas after- wards inspired by the premature close (in 1791) of his generous life, "The bridegroom may forget the bride," than which, there has been no finer tribute of genius to worth, since Simonides and Pindar exalted the fame of the kings of Syracuse. In April, in course of a Prologue for the benefit of the veteran Scotch Roscius (Mr Wood), Burns, after refer- ring to Hume, Robertson, and Reid, as glories of Caledonia, perpetrated his worst criticism — " Here Douglas forms wild Shakspeare into plan," 36 ROBERT BURNS. and in May, writing to Mr Tytler of Woodhouselee on the " Vindication of Mary Stuart," his worst lines — "Though something like moisture conglobes in my eye, Let no one misdeem me disloyal." On the 25th, he started with the schoolmaster Nicol, another Crochallan, on a three months' tour in the Eastern Highlands, in the course of which he visited Queen Mary's birth-room at Linlithgow, the tomb of Sir John the Grieme at Falkirk, the Carron Works, — which he compared to the mouth of the Pit, — Bannockburn, scrawling on the window of the inn at Stirling the dangerous stanza spread abroad to his harm, "The injured Stuart line is gone," &c, Strathallan, suggesting the lament, " Thickest night around me dwelling," Dunkeld, Birnam Hill, Aberfeldy, and the ducal residence at Blair, where he met Mr Graham of Fintry, and gave the toast, " Athole's honest men, and Athole's bonnie lassies." They passed through Rothie- murchus and Aviemore by Strathspey to Findhorn and Castle Cawdor, then over Culloden to Forres and Shake- speare's witch muir. We next find the poet entertained at Castle Gordon, — an event commemorated in some of his most graceful English verses, — and hurried away by the jealous impatience of his companion, then returning by Aberdeen (where he met some of his relatives and Bishop Skinner, son of the author of " Tullcchgorum," which he extravagantly pronounced the best of Scotch songs) : we trace him through Montrose to Perth and up the Almond Water, looking for the scene of " Bessie Bell and Mary Gray," and so by Kinross and Queensferry to Edinburgh. Ere the month was out he made, with Dr Adair, a fourth excursion, the main point of interest in which is his residence at Harvieston, and intimacy with Miss Margaret Chalmers, to whom he in vain offered his hand. On the same occasion he made the acquaintance of Mr Ramsay of Ochtertyre on the Teith, knelt on Bruce's grave in the Cathedral of SCOTTISH LIBERAL CLUB. A SUMMARY OF HIS CAREER AND GENIUS. 37 Dunfermiline, and then, " from grave to gay," having per- suaded Adair to sit on the stool of repentance, administered to him a parody of his own rebuke. At Clackmannan he was knighted by an ancient lady with the sword of her ancestor, the good King Robert, and nothing loath, responded to her toast, " Hoolie uncos" — i.e., " Awa' Whigs, awa'." Burns refers to his Highland trip in particular as "perfectly inspiring," but its only poetic outcome of much consequence was " Macpherson's Lament," the death-song of a freebooter (recalling that of Regnar Lodbrog), on the wild grandeur of which Mr Carlyle has eloquently dwelt The fact that these expeditions yielded so little direct harvest may be explained in part by the business purpose of the first, and the ill-adjusted companionship of the third; more by the prodigious productiveness of the two previous years, and the social excitement of the six preceding months. The soil on which rich crops grow must sometimes lie fallow. Add that the spirit of poetry bloweth where it listeth, that to a mind of emphatically spontaneous power the fact of being expected to write was a bar to inspiration, that Burns, unlike Scott, only took delight in fine scenery as a frame to living interests, and we scarcely require to consider the fatigues of travel in the days when a sturdy lexicographer's journey to the Hebrides was a matter of more adventure than is now that of a lady to the Rocky Mountains or the Sandwich Isles. Back in Edinburgh, the poet shifted to more comfort- able quarters in St James' Square, where he lived with Mr Cruikshank, whose sister is the Rosebud of his Muse. The rest of the year was mainly devoted to negotiations with Johnson, letters about the " Erebean fanatics," who were persecuting Hamilton and M'Gill, and stray verses addressed to Peggy Chalmers. On December 8, thrown from a hackney coach, he sustained an injury serious enough to lay him aside for six weeks, during which he expresses despairing disgust of life, and describes himself as "the sport, the miserable victim of rebellious pride, hypochondriac imagination, agonising sensibility, and Bedlam passions." f 38 EOBEIIT BURNS. Poetic natures are rarely stoical, and a man accustomed to walk the fields in the morning, to blaze in society at night, naturally chafes under confinement with a disabled limb. Burns was besides beginning to smart from the fickleness — none the less that he had anticipated it — of " Fortune be- guiling." His day of "grace, acceptance, and delight" had passed its noon. The town had had its fill of the prodigy, and the sousdi of the Reminiscences made the doors of the great move more slowly on their hinges. The proud poet in later days, when the castle grew cold, sought solace in the " howff," now he frequented the Crochallans, or wandered about the crags. He had been foiled in one love-suit, and was prosecuting another under difficulties. Our space will only permit us to sum the evidence bearing on this strange story. On December 7th, Burns, at the table of a common friend, met Mrs M'Lehose, a lady whose husband had gone to the West Indies and left her with limited means to bring up two children in retirement in Potterrow. Handsome, lively, well read, of easy manners and a ready wit, a writer of verses sentimental and yet ardent, she was born in the same year as Burns, and told him that she shared his dispositions, and would have been his twin-brother had she been a man. Two such beings were obviously made for one another, and they lost no time in finding it out. The above-mentioned accident having prevented their taking tea together, on the following day he received her condolences with rapture. If he was, as lawyers maintain, at this time a married man, he did not know it: she was aware that she was only a grass-widow, and she was virtuous. Their correspondence must therefore be conducted with discretion, and " friendship," not " love," must be their watchword. How to reconcile the pretence with the reality was the trouble. Let them take the names of Clarinda and Sylvander, and exchange their compliments with the pastoral innocence of shepherd and shepherdess in the Golden Age. So it went on, letters flying to and fro, like carrier pigeons, then greetings from windows, visits, risks, recoilings, fresh assignations, reproaches and reconcilia- A SUMMARY OF HIS CAREER AND GENIUS. 39 tions, wearisome to us, alternately tantalising and alluring to the mutually fascinated pair. It is perhaps impossible to get at the absolute truth in this business, and, if conjec- ture errs, it ought to be on the side of charity. One point has been now made plain, it was no case of mere philander- ing. Beneath all Clarinda's verbiage there throbs the pulse of a real passion, afraid of itself, and yet incapable of sur- rendering its object. She knew that she was playing with edge-tools, but she had confidence in the strength of her principles to draw the line. Sylvander writes more like an artist, never with so much apparent affectation as in many of those letters — fustian and bombast they often are, but as to their being falsetto is another matter. On all that Burns wrote there is some stamp of the same strong mind ; but he was capable of moulding his style on that of his correspond- ents, and adapting his sentiments to theirs to such a degree as often to contradict himself. When we compare his letter of the 2nd March to Mrs M'Lehose with that of the 3rd to Ainslie, we are tempted to apply to the former his own line, " Tis a' fin ess in Rob Mossgiel." But this plastic faculty, the actor's power, the weakness of over-sympathetic or electric natures, is wrongly confounded with deliberate deceit ; it is an invariable accompaniment of dramatic genius, which takes its colour from what it works in, " like the dyer's hand." The poet's religious moods were as genuine as those in which he led the chorus of Crochallan : the former were elicited by contact with religious people f but he never, even to them, pretends to be orthodox ; he is constantly fighting with Clarinda's Calvinism, and trying to undermine her confessor, Kemp. It therefore by no means follows that, in his offer to meet her " at the Throne of Grace," he was playing the hypocrite : if he did so, it was the worst thing he ever did. Howbeit, this love-making was his main occupation, till, in February, he had news from Mauchline which naturally distressed and seems less naturally to have surprised him. Jean was again about to become a mother, and this time her father had turned her out of the house. Burns, of course, 40 ROBERT BURNS. rushed to the rescue, established her in the neighbourhood with the comforts essential to her condition, and succeeded in reconciling her to her mother ; but he was at first incapable of shaking off the spell of the syren, and wrote to Clarinda the somewhat heartless letter about the " farthing candle " and " the meridian sun," — the former being the woman who was little more than a month later to become his wife, and to be through good and ill report the faithful and forbeariDg helpmate of the remaining eight years of his life. On February 25th he went to Dumfriesshire and took the farm of Ellisland. " A poet's choice," said Allan Cunningham's father, " Foregirth had better soil ; " and perhaps the views of the Nith had something to do with it. The lease was signed March 1 3th, the day on which Jean's second pair of twins are supposed to have made their appearance. They, however, only survived a few weeks. On the 17th Burns returned to Edinburgh, and on the 2 2nd had a farewell meeting with his " divine poetess." This, says one narrator, " was the last of the serio-comic episode of Clarinda." It is hardly so ; the episode, more serious than comic, had an epilogue ; the correspondence continued intermittently, and the renewal of their intimacy after more than three years of domestic life, resulted in at least one immortal verse. The poet left Edinburgh on the 24th, having arranged with his publisher, and sent, as we have seen, a share of his profits to Gilbert. He had also applied to Mr Graham for a place in the Excise, the duties of which he hoped to com- bine with those of a farmer in the same district. His name being placed on the list, he was afterwards appointed to a post of £50 (raised in course of time to £70) a year, which he congratulates himself on having obtained without any hanging on or mortifying solicitation. On the 26th he was in Glasgow, on the 30th riding over the moors between Gallo- way and Ayrshire. It has been conjectured that he may then have come to the resolve to throw over his poetical grass- widow, and do his duty by the comparatively illiterate girl who for him had given up everything. A letter to Miss Chalmers, April 6th, is however, our first distinct intimation of A SUMMARY OF HIS CAREER AND GENIUS. 41 this resolve. On the 28th he admits to his old friend, James Smith, that he has made another irregular marriage. It was afterwards (May 2nd) solemnised in the house of Gavin Hamilton, as a Justice of the Peace, and on August 2nd solemnly confirmed at the annual communion in Mauchline, when both parties were reprimanded, exj)ressed regret for their conduct, and " Mr Burns," by way of fine, " gave a guinea for the poor." Jean did not sign her name, so her husband did it for her ; but only six weeks later he " acknowledges her letter," so the non-signature must have been due to nervousness. In frequent references to the event (especially that about the Synod in his heart) the poet takes too much credit for his conduct, but he always adds that he expects to have no reason to regret it. " I can fancy how, but I have never seen where, I could have made it better," is his rather ungracious refrain. In a note to Miss Chalmers on the 16th, he says that his wife had read nothing but the Bible and his verses (in singing which he often praises her voice), but that his marriage had taken him "out of villainy." Clarinda, however, was of an opposite opinion, and on the news wrote a furious letter, calling Burns "a villain;" an accusation to which, in a dignified reply of March 1789, he refuses to plead guilty, being " convinced of innocence, though conscious of foil v." There appears, we must confess, more of the latter than the former in the whole extraordinary story, the sum of which is that the poet had entangled himself with two women, and married the one he loved least, but to whom he was far the more deeply bound. VI. — Sixth Period, Ellisland, July 1788-Octuber 1791. {JEL 30-33.) Burns left Edinburgh emphatically for good. His first winter had been, like Byron's one brilliant London year, over roses all the way ; in the second he had to walk on withered leaves. His old temptations had led him into trouble, even threatened to harden his heart, and some "1 his great friends were doing their best to corrupt his taste. 42 ROBERT BURNS. The criticism of the eighteenth century is by no means so contemptible as it is the fashion to represent it; the English of Robertson, even the Latinised style of Blair, was better than the simpleton Anglo-Saxonism of recent antiquarians ; but it was not the manner of writing proper to Burns, and their square and rule were ill-adapted for the measurement of his wood-notes. When a man adopts a style unnatural to him, he adopts its most exaggerated or degenerate forms ; when the author of the " Jolly Beggars " tried to mimic the verse of Pope, the result was a reproduction of Hayley. When he expressed to Clarinda his belief that " the soul is capable of inflammation," he reminds us not of Steele but of the Delia Cruseans ; he deserves a place in the "Loves of the Triangles," when he " conglobes a tear." His metaphors are often laboured; his allegories of "wisdom dwelling with prudence," etc., are lame travesties of the "Vision of Mirza." The dedications, acknowledgments, and other letters of the period have the same taint. In writing to Lords Buchan and Eglinton he is not at his ease, as he would have been in conversation with them. It seems un- necessary to inform the one that he is incapable of mercenary servility, and when he gratefully remembers the honour of a suggestion from the other, which he inly ridiculed, we feel how near affectation may approach to insincerity. Burns only escaped the latter vice by timely rescue from an atmosphere that was becoming unwholesome, and which no high and most probably unsuitable alliance could have made otherwise. Burns had all the '"' honest pride " of which he says too much, and would stoop for neither smile nor favour; but, to humour the great people at their dances, he wore a thin mask, and painfully went through a minuet with hob-nailed shoes. How bad the spoken criticism of his censors must sometimes have been, we may judge by some of the speci- mens which have been printed — e.g., Dr Gregory's rejection of " The Lass of Ballochmyle," and his " swashing blows," beating the last bit of life out of the poet's untimely wounded hare ; Dr Moore's recommendation to avoid the use of the Scotch dialect; Dr Blair's refusal to allow "Tarn o' Shanter" A SUMMARY OF HIS CAREER AND GENIUS. 43 to be printed for the benefit of his family as an appendix to the remains of Michael Bruce ; and George Thomson's suo-o- e s- tion that " Welcome to your gory bed " be softened into " Welcome to your honour's bed," are amongst the most ludicrous in literature. True genius seldom wants advice ; but the habit of offering it is with some as inveterate as that of gambling or drink. Fortunately Burns seldom paid much heed to the cavils of men who " spun their thread so fine that it was neither fit for warp nor woof," aud though, from good nature, he sometimes permitted his verses to be spoiled, on afterthought, a better judgment generally restored them. In his fragment of a Scotch Dunciad, " The Poet's Progress," he calls critics " those cut-throat bandits on the paths of fame," and his reception of Allison's " Essay on Taste," proves that on occasion he could turn and bite the biters. On perusiDg this politely dressed model of conclusive irony, Stewart innocently remarks on the mastery of the laws of association shown by the poet. The lease of Ellisland ran from Whitsunday, but Burns did not take possession till the middle of June. His time till the end of autumn was occupied in getting ready the farm, and rushing backward and forward over a distance of forty-five miles, between Dumfriesshire and Mauchline, where his wife continued to reside. Present or absent, his dominant feelings during this honeymoon, lengthened by interruption, was that which inspires one of his most de- servedly popular songs, " Of a' the airts the wind can blaw." When alone, he was a prey to many moods, for solitude never suited him, and his first impressions of the Nithsdale folk were unfavourable. " Nothing flourishes among them," he exclaims, " but stupidity and canting; they have as much idea of a rhinoceros as of a poet," and " their whisky is rascally." Ere the month was over he had, however, opened up friendly relations, only interrupted near the close of his life, with the Riddells of Glenriddell, and had written 1 In- well-known verses in Friars' Carse Hermitage, conceived in a spirit of Horatian content. About the same time, he was giving an appreciative study to Spenser, and to Dryden's 44 ROBERT BURNS. Georgics of Virgil, criticising amateur verses with which he now began to be pestered, writing a remonstrance to the London Star against the anti-Jacobite demonstrations at the centenary of the " Glorious Revolution," and sending to Blacklock his ideas of a model wife, whose " head is imma- terial in comparison with her heart." In the first week of December he brought Mrs Burns to *' the Isle," a steading a mile down the Nith, where they re- mained for about seven months, till everything was ready to enable them to move up to Ellisland. Now, if ever, were the poet's halcyon days. He had to all appearance found a quiet haven, a good landlord, a promising farm, and a loving helpmate. He could look forward to rearing his own crops, walking over the fields, or loitering by the river banks, en- joying his own thoughts and setting his new words to old tunes. Master of his surroundings, he hoped at last to be master of himself: his elastic temper let him put by the shadows of the past, and he brought into mid-winter the spirit of the spring. His songs of this period are marked by a more genuine buoyancy than either before or after. Beginning with the defiant little lilt, " I hae a wife o' my ain," he quickly followed it by two of his most famous lyrics, " Auld Lang Syne," in which he turned a tame original into the national song of peaceful, as " Scots wha hae " is of warlike, Scotland ; and " The Silver Tassie," be- ginning, " Go fetch to me a pint of wine," a drinking song with the aroma of Lovelace or Herrick. Burns had set be- fore himself a model domestic life, and for a time maintained it. He helped Mr Riddell to establish a public library, had family worship after his fashion, and went to church for example, though he found Mr Kilpatrick rather "drouthy." Respected by his servants, esteemed by his neighbours, beloved at home, his ambition was to act up to his verse, and " make a havjpy fireside clime for weans and wife." The new year 1789 opened brightly : on the first clay he wrote to Mrs Dunlop one of his longest and finest letters. Soon afterwards an angry gust has recorded itself in the A SUMMARY OF HIS CAREER AND GENIUS. 4-3 outbreak of ferocit}', " Dweller in yon dungeon dark," pro- voked by bis being turned out of a roadside inn on a bitter night, to make way for the pompous funeral cortege of Mrs Oswald. Burns was a dangerous person to offend, and the quarrelsome lads of the district did well to hold their peace when he threatened to " hang them up in sang like potato- bogles." He was a good disciplinarian, and, while generally indulgent to his servants, came down heavily on dense stupidity or obvious neglect. About Midsummer his delight in chastising wrong-doers found vent in smiting the Philistines with " The Kirk's Alarm," a ringing blast about which he seems to have taken some trouble, one among numerous comments on his theory of literary work. " I have no great faith in the boastful pretensions to intuitive propriety and unlaboured elegance. The rough material of fine writing is certainly the gift of genius ; but I as firmly be- lieve that the workmanship is the united effort of pains, attention, and repeated trial." It would have been well had this passage been impressed on the minds of his imita- tors, of whom the first of too many crojos had begun to appear. " My success," he complains, "has encouraged such a swarm of ill-spawned monsters to crawl into public note under the title of Scotch poets that the very term Scotch poetry borders on the burlesque." During the whole of this period Burns was actively engaged on the farm, taking his full share of hard work, and maintaining perfect sobriety ; but he found leisure to write several songs, among them, " John Anderson my Jo," and a number of letters from which an anthologia of his wit, wisdom, and tenderness might be constructed. The series addressed to his brother "William would be amusing were it not for its closing in about a year with a record of the poor lad's death among strangers. " Form good habits," and, above all, " learn taci- turnity," is the refrain of advice which this comparatively com- monplace member of the family must have found it as easy as his monitor found it impossible to follow. Towards the close of July the Excise appointment was conferred, and, shortly after, the family left the Isle for Ellisland, where 40 ROBERT BURNS. (August IS) Francis Wallace, the second sou, made his appearance, and about the same time Robert, the eldest, now three years old, was brought from Mauchline. The few notable incidents of the succeeding months are familiar in connection with the verses to which they gave rise. A September meeting with Nicol and Masterton at Moffat was the inspiration of "Willie brewed a peck o' maut;" the "mighty claret shed" at Friars' Carse, in October, of the famous " Whistle." Mr Douglas seems to have made out that Burns on that occasion was present only in spirit, not in body ; but the fact that the verses must have been written five days after "Thou lingering Star" has not failed to evoke comment on the rapidly shifting moods of the Borealis race, of which he was a consummate type. Round the dawn of 1790 clouds began to thicken. Ellis- land was after all proving as profitless in the poet's hands as Lochlea or Mossgiel. Whether it was owin^ to want of skill — want of energy it was not — or a luckless choice of soil and situation, he was, as a farmer, destined to one chagrin after another, and had to fall back on his " second line of defence," the Excise, a defence unfortunately exposed to the attacks of enemies from within. There was undoubtedly some irony in his choice of a profession, of which no one was so sensible as himself. He refers to it fitfully in mock- ing verse and serious prose, now fearing the " Parnassian queans " Avill disdain him, now manfully asserting, " I would rather have it said that my profession borrowed credit from me than I from my profession ; " again complaining that the extent of his ten parishes, compelling him to ride some 200 miles a week, is a strain on his strength. Docu- mentary evidence, especially that recently made public, demonstrates that, during the seven years of his service, he dis- charged his duty to the Crown admirably well, and under trying circumstances, with the utmost possible consideration and humanity. The stale text " Suaviter in modo, fortiter in re " was never more apt. In dealing with poor old women and other retailers on a small scale of " home- brewed," he strained the law in their favour, and sometimes A SUMMARY OF HIS CAREER AND GENIUS. 47 gave them timely warning. On the other hand, he was so severe on hardened offenders that in one year his decreet perquisites reached the maximum known in the district. The evil of his new business was that it led him to spend so much of his time from home, and to mix so much in questionable society. Towards Midsummer he was prone to linger in Dumfries at the Globe Tavern, where a " guid willie waught " was not the sole attraction. The land- lady's niece, a certain Annie Park, was, we are told, thought beautiful by the guests when they were in a state that made them tolerant in matters of taste. With this Annie of " the gowden locks," the poet contracted an intimacy that inspired what he himself regarded as the best love song he ever com- posed, " Yestreen I had a pint of wine," and resulted in the birth (March 31, 1791) of his second Elizabeth. The mother, being no more heard of, is supposed to have died. The child was first sent to Mossgiel, and then brought to Ellisland, to be nursed by the much-enduring Jean along with her third son, William Nicol, born just ten days later. Burns had again broken loose : " the native hue of his re- solution" was blurred over by the red fires of passion, when, in a defiant mood, he threw off the stanzas beGfinninsr, " I murder hate," and ending with a notable proof of his Biblical knowledge. In other directions he was wasting his genius on election ballads, on prologues and addresses for the local theatre, and on furious prose execrations against the Puritans, the Edinburgh police, and things in general. But his genuine inspiration — though he complains of the Muse's visits being " short and far between " — had not deserted him. July gave birth to the elegy and epitaph, among the finest in the lan- guage, on Mathew Henderson. In September Captain Grose, an antiquarian Falstaff to whom he had been introduced at Friars' Carse (the subject of one of the poet's most good- humoured epigrams, and of the lines, " Hear Land o' Cakes and Brither Scots "), having got from him three traditionary stories of Alloway Kirk, recommended Burns to put them into verse. The result was " Tarn o' Shanter " thrown off in one day's walk along the Nith, in an ecstacy, as Mrs. 48 ROBERT BURNS. Earns narrates ; but matured into its published form during the three succeeding months. Of this period there are extant several records of friends or strangers who came to visit him ; among them the pleasant pastoral of Ramsay of Ochtertyre with the quotation, " uxor Sabina qualis," and that of two English gentlemen who found him angling with a fox-skin cap on his head, and a broadsword hanging from his belt.* The next year is marked by little of note, save three instances of the poet's generous sympathy, — his interest in the publication of Bruce's poems, his Ode for the coronation of James Thomson's monument at Ednam, and his interposition in favour of the school- master, Clarke, threatened with dismissal for severity to his boobies — an interference which seems ultimately to have been successful. During the summer Burns had four disabling falls from his horse ; but he produced the elegy on Miss Burnet, the lament for Glencairn, the Banks of Doun, " Bonnie wee thing " in honour of Miss Davies, and began to celebrate, under the name of Chloris, a Miss Jean Lorimer, who from this date till the close of 1795 was his reigning beauty. He wrote besides several letters and some Jacobite songs, the chief of which, " Farewell thou fair day, thou green earth, and ye skies," was a favourite of the poet Campbell. Currie says it is " a hymn worthy of the palmy days of the Grecian muse." At mid- summer, Burns had determined to leave his farm, and, the roup of the stock having been effected in September, the family flitted to the headquarters of the rest of his life, Dumfries. VII. — Seventh Period, Dumfries, 1791-1796. {JEt. 33-37.) a. The Wee Vermel {Bank Street), Oct. IIQI-May 1793 b. The Mill Vennel (Burns Street), May 1793- J/«y 1796. Poets have thriven among the hills, nowhere else could Wordsworth, or amid the turmoil of a city, nowhere else * Mr Carlyle does not credit this story, but it is fairly well authenti- cated. A SUMMARY OF HTS CAREER AND GENIUS. 49 could Pope have found bis inspiration ; the atmosphere of a county town is fatal to them. Dumfries, at the close of last century, was, by all accounts, a bad type of its class : the majority of its industrious inhabitants found relief from the drudgery of their trades in the small gossip of their limited society ; the loungers went " black-guardin " through the streets, or rioting in taverns. In this headquarter of scandal and dissipation Burns's course was almost inevitably down- wards. His whole history was a struggle between the loftiest aspirations, the most refined humanities, and tempta- tions which his will was seldom strong enough to resist. During his last five years, his official duties compelled him constantly to ride in all weathers over moor and vale in search of illicit distilleries, and come into close contact with their contents. His genius opened to him the doors of castle and of cot ; in the latter, he was exposed to rural hospitality ; in the former, to the demands of the company gathered to wonder at his wit, and rejoice to find it flow freer with the wine. " They would not thank me," he said of the squires and lairds, " if I did not drink with them. I have to give them a slice of my constitution." Thousands of professing Christians, leading far worse lives, have found shelter in obscurity; but, when a great man yields, it is pro- claimed on the house-tops and cried in the market. The early records of his residence are full of forebodings. His income was inadequate for his growing family, and he began to have reason to complain of the coldness of patrons. "The rock of independence," of which he was wont to talk, was overhung with clouds lit by the meteors of French revolutionism. In Nov. 1791 he bitterly writes to Ainslie, "My wife scolds me, my business torments mo, and my sins come staring me in the face." It is at this period that Clarinda again flashes with a vivid lustre across the scene. Their inter- mittent correspondence thickened, and, towards the close of November, he went to Edinburgh, and spent a week mainly n her company. To their farewell meeting, on the 6th December, there are several fervent allusions. From Dumfries on his return, we have on the loth : "This is the sixth letter D 50 ROBERT BURNS. that I have written since I left you, my ever beloved." Shortly after, he sends the verses, " Ae fond kiss and then we sever," with the quatrain, " Had we never loved sae kindly, Had we never loved sae blindly, Never met, or never parted, We had ne'er been broken hearted," which, quoted by Byron, admired by Carlyle and Mr Arnold, is the quintessence of passionate regret. More than a y. j ar elapsed, during which Mrs M'Lehose had gone to the Indies, and, finding her husband surrounded byatroop of small mulat- toes, had come back again. Then more letters passed, the final one preserved beiDg from the poet, dated Castle Douglas, 25th June 1794, in which he professes to be perplexed as to the manner in which he is to address her ; " the language of friendship will not suffice," &c. Then he reflects on the fickleness of fame ; " she does not blow her trump now as she did." " Yet," he adds, " I am as proud as ever, and wish in my grave to be stretched to my full length, that I may occupy every inch of ground I have a right to." Here — not in the rendezvous of March 1788 — closes the episode of Clarinda, unless we bring together two later references that originally lay far apart. One is from a letter of the poet to Mary Peacock, the friend in whose house the lovers first met, of date 6th December 1792. "This eventful day recalls to my memory such a scene. Heaven and earth, when I remember a far distant person." Then he gives the song " Ance mair I hail thee thou gloomy December," • •••... " Parting wi' Nancy, Oh, ne'er to meet mair." The other is found in a leaf of an old woman's diary of 1831 on the same anniversary, "This day I can never forget. Parted with Burns in the year 1791 (forty years ago) never more to meet in this world. Oh, may we meet in heaven ! " Me/gov n Kara Bdxpvct. The writer survived till 1 841, reaching the age of 82. A SUMMARY OF HIS CAREER AND GENIUS. 51 In Burns's miscellaneous correspondence of this period there is little of conspicuous interest. The early stage of his intimacy with Maria (wife of Walter Riddell of Woodley Park), a brilliant West Indian of nineteen, at whose house he was for two years a frequent guest, is marked by an intro- duction of her book to his Edinburgh printer. In September 1792, acknowledging to Alexander Cunningham a diploma conferred by the royal archers, he writes one of his half dozen most remarkable letters, brimming with banter like Falstaff's, then growing savage as Timon, in an attack on the " religious nonsense," which he declares to be " of all the most nonsensical," asking, "why has a religious turn of mind always a tendency to narrow and illiberalise the heart," and then putting the whole storm to rest by the exquisite verse inspired by Miss Lyndsay Baillie, " The very deil he couldna' scathe Whatever wad belang thee ; He'd look into thy bonie face And say, ' I canna wrang thee.' * In the same month the Thomson correspondence begins, one of the poet's earliest contributions to their joint under- taking beinlus ultra of Bumbledom has been recently defended * This has been by some dogmatically denied, but the incident is unlikely to have been invented. A SUMMARY OF HIS CAREER AND GENIUS. 59 on the ground that the poet, being " in the public employ," had no right " to dabble in politics " — i.e., he was to be debarred from expressing his regard for two republics, with both of which we were at peace, because the Tories happened to be then in power. Burns was bound, with all good citizens, to abstain from seditious courses, but his office held, we take it, " aut vitam aut culpam," could not bind him always to agree with the Ministry, nor had he sold his soul and body, or his liberty of speech, for <£70 a-year. He ran the risk of eveiy candidate for patronage in offending his possible patrons, but the censure of the Board was an impertinence, and that he felt it to be so the noble close of the letter to Erskine, in which we have the best account of the matter, clearly demonstrates. After this business, the poet's fust resolve was to hold his peace. " I jouk and let the jaw gie o'er:" but he chafed under his chains, and sometimes made a noise in rattling them. To use his own image, he felt sore, like iEsop's lion under an ass's kick. During the spring '93, the bitterness breaks out in occasional letters, notably in his answer to the admonitions of the now respect- able Nicol and the recently published Political Catechism — addressed to Cunningham — items of which have naturally attracted attention. The writer of this and the nearly con- temporaneous lines, "You're welcome to despots, Dumouriez," must have ceased to expect anything from Pitt or Dundas. It is the clenching sarcasm of a man smarting under the sense of neglect, and sick of hope deferred, whose fair- weather friends were treating him as popular people treat everyone under a cloud. Suspected politics, added to doubt- ful religion, were too much to bear, and they looked black upon him and fought shy of him. To be thought bad is apt to make a man bad : to be excluded from the society of equals is to be driven to that of inferiors. Fatigue and de- spondency alternating with fits of restless irritation, Burns, too much impressed with the maxim, " Better be the head of the commonalty than the tail of the gentry," sought relief among the lower ranks, where he found a shallow sympathy and countenance in his now besetting sin. " Occasional 60 ROBERT BURNS. hard drinking," he writes to Mrs Dunlop, " is the devil to me. Against this I have again and again bent my resolu- tion, and have greatly succeeded. Taverns I have totally abandoned : it is the private parties among the hard-drink- ino- gentlemen . . . that do me the mischief." On the morning after this letter was written, when the Rev. Mr M'Morline came to baptise his child, he found that Burns had never been in bed, having sat up all night in his own house, with some boon companions. The next year, 1794, opened with a course of indulgence that twice proved disastrous. On the first occasion, having proposed a toast, " May our success in the war " (the early stages of which he always condemned) " be equal to the justice of our cause," in presence of a fire-eating officer, he narrowly escaped being dragged into a duel. The name of this "lobster" is preserved by the fact of his encounter with the poet, to whom, when the French really became aggressive, it fell to write the most stirring of our challenges of defence. " Does haughty Gaul invasion threat " w r ill survive Captain Dods. On the second occasion, in consequence of his joining in a freak with other over-heated guests, coming from the dinner-table to Maria Eiddell's drawing-room, he lost for a time the esteem of her family, and, what was of more moment, of herself. Kissing, which " goes by favour," should never be public, and her indignation, aggravated, it may be, by a latent sense of the disparity of their ranks, was propor- tioned to her affection for the man to whose genius she has left the finest contemporary tribute. Next morning the poet, duly contrite, addressed the lady in cries of prose and verse that might have melted a stone ; but she remaining obdurate, Burns, who could never brook repulse, suddenly passed from apology to lampoon. This completed the aliena- tion, and made him regarded as beyond the pale, a " mauvais sujet," with whom there was no dealing. The quarrel Avas ultimately made up, but not before his friend, the Laird of Carse, unfortunately involved in it, had died and been lamented in the elegy, "No more ye w^arblers of the wood." The only remaining event of the year worth recording is a visit A SUMMARY OF HIS CAREER AND GENIUS. 61 from his old acquaintance, Josiah Walker, whose sententious comments on the occasion afterwards roused the wrath of Christopher North. Nor is there much in the next, but the gathering of the clouds on the entrance to the Valley of the Shadow. Care, remorse, and embarrassment had done their work in undermining a strong constitution. " What a transient business is life," he writes (January 1) to Mrs Dunlop, " very lately I was a boy ; but t'other day I was a young man, and I already begin to feel the frigid pulse and stiff joints of old age coming fast over my frame." Walking with a friend who proposed to him to join a county ball, he shook his head, saying, " That's all over now," and adding the oft-quoted verse of Lady Grissel Baillie. His prevailing- sen timent was that of his own couplet, characterised as the concentration of many night-thoughts — " The pale moon is setting beyond the white wave, And time is setting wi' me O." Yet, ever and anon, his vitality re-asserted itself, and out of the mirk there flashed the immortal democratic creed — " Is there for honest poverty That hangs his head an a' that?" In March we have a glint of sunshine ; he was reconciled to Maria, again received her letters, criticised her verses, and took heart to make a last appeal to Mr Heron for promotion. In September, the death of his daughter again broke his spirit and accelerated the close. His hand shook, his pulse and appetite failed, and he sunk into an almost uniform gloom : but to the last it was lit with silver streaks. From the very Castle of Despair he wrote, " Contented wi' little and canty wi' mair : " over the dark surface of the rising waters there ripples the music of the lines — " Their groves o' sweet myrtle let foreign lands reckon, While bright beaming summers exalt the perfume, Far dearer to me yon lone glen o' green breckau, With the burn stealing under the lang yellow broom." In January 179 G, the poet, on his return from a gathering at the Globe, fell asleep in the open air, and caught a chill, 62 ROBERT BURNS. developing into a rheumatic fever, with which he was during the early months intermittently prostrate. On his partial recovery, in April he wrote to Thomson, " I fear it will be some time before I tune my lyre again. By Babel's streams I have sat and wept. I have only known existence by the pressure of sickness, and counted time by the repercussions of pain. I close my eyes in misery, and open them without hope. I look on the vernal day, and say with poor Fergus- son — " Say wherefore has an all-indulgent heaven Life to the comfortless and wretched given." May was a month of unusual brightness, but cutting east winds went against him, and, though sometimes appearing in the streets, he was so emaciated as hardly to be recognised. His wife being, from her condition, unable to attend to him, her place was supplied by the affectionate tenderness of Jessie Lewars, who hovered about his couch, like the " little fairy," who long afterwards ministered to the dying hours of the matchless German lyrist, Heinrich Heine. To this girl, the sister of a fellow-exciseman, Burns addressed two of his latest and sweetest son^s with the stanzas — J o" * Here's a health to ane I lo'e dear, Thou art sweet as the smile when fond lovers meet, And sweet as their parting tear, Jessie." • • • " O 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." The poet himself was rapidly passing beyond the need of shelter. On July 4th he was sent for sea air to a watering- place, Brow on the Solway, and there had a last meeting with Mrs Riddell, saluting her with the question, " Well, madam, have you any commands for the other world ? " He spoke without fear of the approaching close, but expressed anxiety for his wife and children, and the possible injury to his fame from the publication of unguarded letters and A SUMMARY OF HIS CAREER AND GENIUS. 63 verses. " He lamented," we quote from the lady, " that he had written man)' epigrams on persons against whom he en- tertained no enmity, and many indifferent poetical pieces, which he feared would be thrust upon the world. . . . The conversation was kept up with great evenness and animation on his side. ... I had seldom seen his mind greater or more collected." On the 10th, when his landlady wished to let down the blinds against the dazzling of the sun, Burns exclaimed, "Oh, let him shine, he will not shine long for me." His peace of mind was unhappily distracted by the inade- quacy of the allowance granted to officers on leave for illness, and by a letter inopportunely arriving from a Dumfries tradesman pressing for the payment of an account. This drew forth two piteous appeals — one to Thomson, the other to his cousin at Montrose — for the loan of small sums to save him " from the horrors of a jail : " with the former he enclosed his last lyrical fragment, " Fairest maid on Devon Banks." The same day he addressed Mrs Dunlop, complain- ing of her long silence, she too having been influenced by the "fama" of the preceding year. On the 14th, he announced to Jean his arrival on the 18th. When brought home, he was so weak that he could not stand ; but he was able to send to his father-in-law his last written lines saying, " Do, for Heaven's sake, send Mrs Armour here immediately." From the 19th to the end he was for the most part speechless, " scarcely himsel' for half-an-hour together," said Mrs Burns afterwards. At one time he was found sitting in a corner of the room, and, on being put back to bed, exclaimed, "Gilbert, Gilbert." Early on the 21st he was in deep delirium, broken only by a few sentences, among them a last flash of humour to an attendant volunteer, "John, don't let the awkward squad fire over me." The practice of lingering over the death-beds of great men, to peer and moralise, is apt to be either foolish or im- pertinent. The last utterances of Madame Roland, Goethe, or Byron may be memorable ; but we can draw no conclusion as to their lives, or the truth of their views of life, from the despairing agonies of Cowper, the celestial vision of Pope, or 64 ROBERT BURNS. the serene composure of Hume. The last moments of Burns were stormy, as his life; an execration on the agent who had sent him the dunning account — and the mighty Spirit passed. On the 25th, his remains were carried through Dumfries amid throngs of people asking, "Who will be our poet now?" and buried with local honours. Shortly after the turf had been laid on the mortal vesture of the immortal power, a young lady with an attendant climbed at nightfall over the kirk-yard stile, and strewed the grave with laurel leaves. It was Maria Riddell, who had forgotten his epigrams and still adored his memory. Burns died poor, but scarcely in debt, owing but a few pounds to his friendly landlord, whose only fault with him was that he did not have enough of his com- pany. A subscription started for his family soon raised for their relief the sum of £700, which enabled them to pre- serve intact his little library and tide over evil days. The poet had a hard struggle for bread, but a tithe of the stones of his monuments would have kept himself and his in affluence through all their lives. Scotland has had sweet singers since his death, one of them (Taunahill) with almost as tuneful a voice in rendering the beauties of external nature ; but only two great writers — Scott and Carlyle. Neither combined his lurid and passionate force with the power of musical expression. In these respects his only heir was the future lord of English verse, the boy who was about to leave the shadows of Lach-na-gair for the groves of Newstead. III. — Retrospect and Summary. If the purpose of these records of the poet has been in any degree fulfilled, there is little need to ask further what manner of man he was, or to add a sermon to the half- triumphant, half- tragic text: triumphant in that it was given him to mature his faculties and achieve enduring work, tragic in that, thinking of his own often defeated struggle, he wrote, " There is not among the martyrologies so rueful a A SUMMARY OF HIS CAREER AND GENIUS. 65 narrative." Reticence is rarely, if ever, found in conjunction with genius. Even Shakespeare "unlocked his heart" iu the sonnets, and Goethe in the "Dichtung und Wahrheit." But Burns is garrulous to excess ; least of all great writers, less than his nearest mate, Byron (who burns blue lights within otherwise transparent windows), did he or could he hide him- self. He parades "the secrets of his prison house," joins a carnival unmasked, and with an approach to indelicacy throws open his chamber door. " I was drunk last night, this forenoon I was polygamic, this evening I am sick and sorry," is the refrain of his confession. Scotch to the core in his perfervid heart, he wears it on his sleeve to be pecked at by innumerable daws, and is, in this respect, — teste Thomas Campbell, — "the most un-Scotch-like of Scotchmen." On the other hand, he had all the ambition often unhappily charac- teristic of his race. " Fate," he exclaims, " had cast my station in the veriest shades of life, but never did a heart pant more ardently than mine to be distinguished." His youthful pride was, by his own account, apt to degenerate into " envy." His career was haunted by a suspicion of being patronised and insulted by rank or wealth, which led him too willingly to associate with his inferiors and to court the company of the wild " merry " rather than the sober " grave." " Calculative creatures" he condemns as inhumane ; for errors of impulse he has superabundant charity ; he has " courted the acquaintance of blackguards, and, though disgraced by follies," has "often found among them the noblest virtues." Burns's affection for the waif's and strays of mankind was the right side of the temperament of which his own recklessness was the wrong. But his practical sense, on occasion, asserted itself, in a manner worthy of the canniest Scot — e.g., his refusal to stand surety lor his brother, his determination never to bring up his sons to any learned profession, all his correspondence with Gilhert and < h. Burns is at his worst where ho is cautious, almost cunning, as in some of the Clarinda letters, a few relating to the Armours, and such passages as that on his return from the West Highland tour, where he balks of E GG ROBERT BURN T S. women as a fowler might do of his game. " Miss flew off in a tangent, like a mounting lark. But I am an old hawk at the sport, and wrote her such a cool, deliber- ate, prudent reply as brought my bird from her aerial towerings, pop clown at my feet like Corporal Trim's hat." Similarly in his toast of " Mrs Mac," at Dumfries dinners, bis want of reserve amounts almost to a want of fine feeling, and justifies the censure that if woman, as a cynic has said, constituted the poet's religion, he ought to have dealt with it more reverently. Equally difficult is it to condone some of his vindictive epigrams. "Judex damnatur," who can ignore those abberrations of "Ayrshire's tutelary saint." The rest of the tragedy, "half witbin and half without," is the commonplace of moralising commentary — tbat of hot blood, weak will, and straitened circumstances dragging down an eagle's flight. When the devil's advocate has done his worst, " the dissonance is lost in the music of a great man's name." Tried in many ways, he was never tempted to do or to think anything mean. The theme of his prevailing sincerity has been ex- hausted by a sharer of many of his mental, exempted from his physical, faults, Mr Carlyle. The " finesse" of the poet's flirtations is at least on the surface. His amiable over- estimates were genuine to the core. His magnanimity amounted to imprudence ; his gratitude to all who ever did him kindness to idolatry. Generosity in almsgiving — a virtue, though an easy one, of the rich, impossible to the poor — was not accessible to Burns ; but he had the harder virtue, rare in our scrambling world, of cordially recognis- ing and extolling the men whom he held to be his peers. His anxiety to push the sale of other people's books, as evinced in his letters to Duncan, Tait, and Creech about Grose, Mylne, and Mrs Riddell, is a reproach to an age when poets are animated by the spirit of monopolists. If he loved praise, he was lavish of it. His benevolence, that overflowed the living world, was, despite his polygamic heats, concentrated in the intense domesticity of a good brother and son, husband and father. His works have been A SUMMARY OF HIS CAREER AND GENIUS. G7 called A Manual of Independence ; and that his homage to the " Lord of the lion heart" is no word boast, is seen in his horror of debt, and almost fanatical dread of oblio;a- tion : they are also models of a charity which goes far to cover his own, as he made it cover the sins of others. Everyone who knew Burns well in private life seems to have loved him ; but he owed none of his popularity to complaisance. Nothing in his character is more con- spicuous than the shining courage that feared neither false man nor false God, his intolerance of the com- promises and impatience of the shifts which are the re- proaches of his nation. Yet no man was ever more proud of his nationality. The excess of patriotism which led Fergusson to assail the Union and detest Dr Johnson, passed on to Burns. Here and there his humour sees a little rant in it, as when he writes to Lord Buchan, "Your much loved Scotia about whom you make such a racket ; " but his pre- vailing tone is that of his letter to Lord Eglintou, " I have all those prejudices. . . . There is scarcely anything to which I am so alive as the honour and welfare of Old Scotia ; and, as a poet, I have no higher enjovment than singing her sons and daughters." Hence, perhaps, the provincialism of his themes, which Mr Arnold with his "damnable iteration" of " Scotch drink, Scotch religion, and Scotch manners " per- versely confounds with provincialism of thought.* Hence, h V. Introduction to Ward's "English Poets," p. xli. After the novel remark, " The Real Burns is of course in his Scotch poems," Mr Arnold proceeds, " Let us boldly say that of much of this poetry, a poetry dealing perpetually with Scotch drink, Scotch religion, and Scotch manners, a Scotchman's estimate is apt to be personal. A Scotchman is used to (his world of Scotch drink, Scotch religion, and Scotch manners ; he has a tenderness for it ; he meets its poet half way. In this tender mood he reads pieces like the Holy Fair or Halloween. Rut this world of Scotch drink, Scotch religion, and Scotch manners is against a poet, not for him, when it is not a partial countryman who reads him ; for in itself, it is not a beautiful world, and no one can deny that it is of advantage to a poet to deal with a beautiful world. Rurns's world of Scotch drink, Scotch religion, and Scotch manners, is often a harsh, a sordid, a repulsive world ; even the world of his Collar's Saturday Night is not a beautiful world." Thereon follow some pages of supercilious patronage of the poet who was, it seems, " a man of vigoious understanding, and (need I eay '!) a master of language," G8 ROBERT BURNS. rather than from his more Catholic qualities, the exagger- ated homage that his countrymen have paid to his name. The Continent champions the cosmopolite Byron, heavily handicapped by his rank, against England ; Scotland has thrown a shield over the errors of her most splendid son, and, lance in rest, dares even her own pulpits to dethrone her " tutelary saint." Seldom has there been a stranger or a more wholesome superstition ; for, on the one hand, Burns is the great censor of our besetting sins, on the other, lie has lifted our best aspirations to a height they never before attained. Puritans with a touch of poetry have dwelt on the undoubted fact that he " purified " our old songs. The commonplace criticism is correct, but so inadequate as to leave the impression that he was an inspired scavenger, whose function was to lengthen the skirts of Scotland's " high-kilted Muse," and clip her " raucle " tongue. His work was nobler, that of elevating and intensifying our northern imagination. He has touched the meanest animal shapes with Ithuriel's wand, and they have sprung up "proudly eminent." His volumes owe their popularity to their being an epitome of melodies, moods, and memories that had belonged for centuries to the national life : but Burns has given them a new dignity, as well as a deeper pathos, by combining an ideal element with the fullest knowledge of common life and the shrewdest judgment on it. He is the unconscious heir of Barbour, distilling the spirit of the old poet's epic into a battle chant, and of Dunbar, as the caustic satirist, the thistle as well as the rose of his land. He is the conscious pupil of Ramsay, but he leaves his master to make a social protest and lead a literary revolt. Contrast the " Gentle Shepherd " with the " Jolly Beggars " — the one is a court pastoral, like a minuet of the ladies of Versailles on the sward of the Swiss village near and mockery of his admirers. If the critic's knowledge of Burns may be gauged by his belief that the Holy Fair is " met half way " in a mood for " tenderness " for " Scotch religion," his criticism is harmless ; but in per- petually playing with paradoxes Mr Arnold runs the risk of spoiling his own "attic style" — the style of "a man of vigorous understanding, and (need I say ?) a master of language." A SUMMARY OF HIS CAREER AND GENIUS. G9 the Trianon, the other is like the march of the Mcenads with Theroigne cle Mericourt. Over all this masterpiece is poured "a flood of liquid harmony:" in the acme of the two-edged satire, aimed alike at laws and law-breakers, the graceless crew are raised above the level of gipsies, footpads, and rogues, and made, like Titans, to launch their thunders of rebellion against the world. Ramsay adds to the rough tunes and words of the ballads the refinement of the wits who, in the "Easy" and "Johnstone" Clubs, talked, over their cups, of Prior and Pope, Addison and Gay. Burns inspires them with a fervour that thrills the most wooden of his race. He has purified "John Anderson my Jo," and brought it from the bothy to the "happy fireside clime:" but the following he has glorified : — 1. Semple (seventeenth century) — rudely — " Should auld acquaintance be forgot And never thought upon, The names of love extinguished And freely past and gone ; Is thy kind heart now grown so cold, In that loving breast of thine, That thou canst never once reflect On old langsyne 1 " 2. Ramsay (eighteenth century) — classically. " Methinks around us on each bough A thousand Cupids play, While through the groves I walk with you Each object makes me gay ; Since your return the sun and moon With brighter beams do shine, Streams murmur soft notes while they run As they did langsyne." 3. Burns — immortally — " We twa ha'e run about the braes, And pou'd the gowana tine, But we've wandered mony a weary foot Sin' auld langsyne. We twa ha'e paidl'd in the burn Frae morning sun till dine, Lut seas between us braid ha'e toar'd mii' auld langsvue." 70 ROBERT BURNS. It is the humanity of this and the like that has made Burns pass into the breath of our nostrils. His " voice is on the rolling air ; " his arrows in every Scottish heart from California to Cathay. He fed on the past literature of his country as Chaucer on the old fields of English thought, and " Still the elements o' sang In formless jumble, richt and wrang, Went floating in his brain." But, though as compared with Douglas, Lyndesay, &c, his great power was brevity, he brought forth an hundred-fold. First of the poets of his nation, he struck the chord where Love and Passion and Reality meet. We had had enough of mere sentiment, enough of mere sense, enough of mere sensuality. He came to pass them through a harmonising alembic. To this solid manhood, to this white heat, to the force of language which has made his words and phrases be compared to cannon balls, add the variety that stretches from " Scots wha hae " to "Mary in Heaven," from " Duncan Gray" to "Auld Lang Syne,"— a lyric distance only exceeded by the greater dramatic distance between Falstaff and Ariel, the Walpurgis Nacht and Jphigenia, — and we can under- stand the tardy fit of enthusiasm in which William Pitt compared Burns to Shakespeare. He who sings alike of Agincourt and Philippi, of Snug the joiner, and the " bank whereon the wild thyme blows," has doubtless no mate in the region of " Scotch drink, Scotch manners, Scotch reli- gion ; " but we have no such testimony to the cloud- compelling social genius of Shakespeare as everywhere meets us in regard to Burns. He walked among men as a god of either region. He had that glamour or fascination which, for want of a better word called electric, gave their influence to Irving, Chalmers, and Wilson, who have left little that is readable behind them. Carlyle alone among his successors, — representing the mixture of German ideal- ism, John Knox morality, and the morbid spirit of our sad critical age — Carlyle alone among great Scotch writers, A SUMMARY OF HIS CAREER AND GENIUS. 71 seems to have Lad this power : but his thunderous prose •wants the softness of his predecessor's verse. Swift, Gibbon, Hume, and Burns are, in our island, the greatest literary fio-nres of the eighteenth, as Scott, Wordsworth, Shelley, and Byron are of the first half of the nineteenth century. POEMS AND SONGS. SONG— HANDSOME NELL. Tune — " I am a man unmarried." (Currie, 1800.) I never had the least thought or inclination of turning Poet till I got once heartily in love, and then rhyme and song were, in a manner, the spontaneous language of my heart. The following composition was the first of my performances. It is, indeed, very puerile and silly ; but I am always pleased with it, as it recalls to my mind those happy days when my heart was yet honest, and my tongue was sincere. — Common- place Book, Aug. 1783. ONCE I lov'd a bonie lass, Aye, and 1 I love her still; And whilst that virtue 2 warms my breast, I'll love my handsome Nell. As bonie lasses I hae seen, And mony full as braw ; a But, for a modest gracefu' mien, The like I never saw. A bonie lass, I will confess, Is pleasant to the e'e ; But, without some better qualities, She's no a 3 lass for me. " handsome. I. A POEMS AND SONGS. [1773. But Nelly's looks are blythe and sweet, And what is best of a', Her reputation is complete, And fair without a flaw. 4 She dresses ay sae clean and neat, Both decent and genteel; And then there's something in her gait Gars b ony dress look weel. 5 A gaudy dress and gentle air May slightly touch the heart; But it's innocence and modesty That polishes the dart. Tis this in Nelly pleases me, Tis this enchants my soul ; For absolutely in my breast She reigns without controul. 'o' [Dr Currie transcribed this song very accurately from the poet's Common-place Book, where it stands recorded under date April 1783. Burns delighted to refer to the incident that gave rise to these juvenile verses : — Nelly Kirkpatrick, daughter of a blacksmith in the neighbour- hood of Mount Oliphant, inspired the song in the harvest-field, in the autumn of 1773, when he was yet under fifteen years old. We must refer the reader to the bard's own account of this his first love-experi- ence, contained in the poem addressed to Mrs Scott of Wauchope House, and also in his autobiography ; meanwhile let us note how early the power of music seems to have affected Burns. Speaking of " Nell," he says: — "Among other love-inspiring qualities, she sang sweetly; and it was her favourite reel to which I attempted giving an embodied vehicle in rhyme." In his Common-place Book, he has followed the record of it with an elaborate " criticism," which shews how carefully he had been training himself for lyric composition. Here is a sample : — In the second couplet of verse first " the expression is a little awkwai'd, and the sentiment too serious." " Stanza the second I am well pleased with . . . and I think it conveys a fine idea of a sweet, sonsy lass." He b makes. *n\ 13.] POEMS AND SONGS. 3 condemns verses MiVc? and fourth; but "the thoughts in the fifth stanza come finely up to my favourite idea — a sweet, sonsy lass." He approves also of the sixth verse, "but the second and fourth lines ending with short syllables, hurts the whole:' "The seventh stanza has several minute faults ; but I remember I composed it in a wild enthusiasm of passion, and to this hour I never recollect it, but my heart melts, and my blood sallies at the remembrance.'' In 1786, Burns presented copies of some of his early pieces — and this among the rest — to Mrs Stewart of Stair, and that MS. exhibits the following variations ; — 1 An' aye. - honour. 3 the. 4 The fourth verse is remodelled thus : — But Nelly's looks are blythe and sweet, Good-humoured, frank, and free ; And still the more I view them o'er, The more they captive me. 5 Verse fifth is wanting in the Stair MS. That the poet was not satisfied with these variations is evident from the fact that he afterwards trans- mitted the song to Johnson for publication in its original form.] HAR'STE.— A FRAGMENT. Tune — " I had a horse, and I had nae mair." (Original Common-place Book, 1872.) Another circumstance of my life, which made very considerable altera- tion on my mind and manners, was, that I spent my seventeenth * summer a good distance from home, at a noted school on a smuggling coast, to learn mensuration, surveying, dialling, &c. ... I went on with a high hand in my geometry, till the sun entered Virgo, a month which is always a carnival in my bosom ; a charming Jillette, who lived next door to the school, overset my trigonometry, &c. . . . The last two nights of my stay in the country, had sleep been a mortal sin, I was innocent. . . . Song second was the ebullition of that passion which ended the fore- nieiitioned school business. — Autobiography. Now breezy win's and slaughtering guns Bring Autumn's pleasant weather, And the muircock springs on whirring wings Amang the blooming heather. * Dr Gurrie and succeeding editors of Burns have printed this word "nineteenth ; " the correction is here made from the original MS. 4 POEMS AND SONGS. [1775. Now waving crops, with yellow tops, Delight the weary farmer, An' the moon shines bright when I rove at night, To muse . . . * [The name of this " charming fillette " was Peggy Thomson ; and shortly prior to the first publication of our author's poems she became the wife of a Mr Neilson at Kirkoswald — an " old acquaintance" of Burns, " and a most worthy fellow." When we come to give the song in its finished form (under date 1783), about which time, it seems, Burns experienced a renewed fit of passion for Peggy, we shall give some par- ticulars regarding her history. See page 53. Here we see that from the very beginning of the poet's attempts at song-writing, he must have a tune to prompt his musings. He early laid down this rule, that "to sowth the tune over and over, is the readiest way to catch the inspiration and raise the bard into that glorious enthusiasm so strongly characteristic of our old Scotch poetry."] SONG— TIBBIE, I HAE SEEN THE DAY. Tune — " Invercauld's Reel, or Strathspey." (Johnson's Museum, 1788. Compared with C. t P. Book, 1872.) Chor. — O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, Ye wadna been sae shy ; For laik o' gear 3, ye lightly me, But, trowth, I care na by. Yestreen I met you on the moor, Ye spak na, but gaed by like stoure ; b Ye geek c at me because I'm poor, But fient d a hair care I. O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &c. a lack of money. b dust in motion. c toss the head. d a petty oath. * In the extended version, printed p. 53, this line reads "To muse upon my charmer," but in the Common-place Book, after "To muse," a name, supposed to be Jean Armour, is written in cypher, or shorthand. If this sup- position is correct it only shews what "charmer" was uppermost in the poet's mind when he made the entry in August 1785. *rr. 17.] POEMS AND SONGS. When comin hame on Sunday last, Upon the road as I cam past, Ye snuff t an gae your head a cast — But trowth I care't na by; Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &c. I doubt na, lass, but ye may think, Because ye hae the name o' clink, e That ye can please me at a wink, Whene'er ye like to try. Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &c. But sorrow tak him that's sae mean, Altho' his pouch o' coin were clean, Wha follows ony saucy quean, That looks sae proud and high. O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &c. Altho' a lad were e'er sae smart, If that he want the yellow dirt, Ye'll cast your head anither airt, f And answer him fu' dr} r . O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &c. But if he hae the name o' gear, Ye'll fasten to him like a brier, Tho' hardly he, for sense or lear,£ Be better than the kye. O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &c. But, Tibbie, lass, tak my advice : Your daddie's gear maks you sae nice ; e cash. ' direction. * education. C POEMS AND SONGS. t 1 "' 5 - The deil a ane wad spier h your price, Were ye as poor as I. O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &c. There lives a lass beside yon park, I'd rather hae her in her sark, Than you wi' a' your thousand mark ; That gars 1 you look sae high. Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &c. [A little controversy lias arisen regarding the date of this song. In the poet's Glenriddell notes, he expressly says of it : — " This song I composed about the age of seventeen." Mrs Begg, on the other hand, (who, by the way, was only five years old when her brother was seventeen,) insisted that the Tibbie of the song was Isabella Stein, of Tarbolton Parish. In a note to the present writer, she says: — " Tibbie Stein lived at Little Hill, a farm marching with that of Lochlie : that the song was written upon her was well known in the neighbourhood, no one doubting it." With all deference, we are inclined to adhere to the poet's direct statement, and regard this as a Mount Oliphant incident, following immediately after the summer he spent at Kirkoswald. We feel greatly strengthened in this opinion by a corresponding record of Burns, the correctness of which has also been much controverted by his brothers and sisters. It is this: — "In my seventeenth year (i.e., 1775, two years before the Lochlie period), to give my manners a brush, I went to a country dancing-school. My father had an unaccountable antipathy against these meetings ; and my going was, what to this hour I repent, in absolute defiance of his commands." We suspect this country dancing-school would be in the village of Dalrymple , and the second verse of the above song seems to refer to the road from Dal- rymple parish church, where, as may be supposed, the Burnes family would occasionally attend. Even the strathspey to which the poet com- posed these words would seem to have some connection with that dancing-school, which it is likely Robert attended alone, and perhaps unknown to the younger members of the family. The second stanza and the closing one are both wanting in John- son's Museum. They are inserted here from the Common-place Book. Dr Carrie's version of the concluding stanza reads thus : — There lives a lass in yonder park, I wadna gie her in her sark For thee, wi' a' thy thousan' mark ; Ye needna look sae high.] h inquire. » makes. *r. 17.] POEMS AND SONGS. 7 SONG— I DREAM'D I LAY. (Johnson's Museum, 1788.) These two stanzas I composed when I was seventeen, and are among the oldest of my printed pieces. — Glenriddell Notes in Cromek. I dream'd T lay where flowers were springing Gaily in the sunny beam ; List'ning to the wild birds sinking, By a falling crystal stream : Straight the sky grew black and daring ; Thro' the woods the whirlwinds rave ; Trees with aged arms were warring, O'er the swelling drumlie wave. Such was my life's deceitful morning, Such the pleasures I enjoy'd: But lang or noon, loud tempests storming, A' my flowery bliss destroy'd. Tho' fickle fortune has deceiv'd me — She promis'd fair, and perform'd but ill, Of mouy a joy and hope bereav'd me — I bear a heart shall support me still. [There can he no douht that this production was suggested to the young lyrist hy his admiration of Mrs Cockburn's song, " I've seen the smiling of Fortune beguiling," which, about the year 1764, found its way into miscellaneous collections of song. It appeared in one of these published in that year, called The Blackbird; and also in a like miscellany entitled The Charmer, and in another named The Lark (both of the latter dated 1765). Any one of them may have been that " Select Collection" which, he tells us, was his vade mecum before the Burnes family removed from Mount Oliphant. The poet again and again reverts to the last four lines of this song, as if tlm conning (hem over yielded him some comfort. "At the close of that dreadful period" — his di.streaa at Irvine — he adopted these lines 8 POEMS AND SONGS. [1776. as the opening of a little " sang to soothe his misery," only altering line third to suit his altered circumstances, thus : — " Of mistress, friends and wealth bereav'd me." But the embryo minstrel, in composing the present song, had Mrs Cockburn's Flowers of the Forest rather too much in his eye ; for he not only copied her ideas, but her very expressions. For her " silver streams shining in the sunny beams," we have here the tyro's " crystal stream" falling "gaily in the sunny beam." The river Tweed of Mrs Cockburn " grows drumly and dark," and so does the streamlet of the young dreamer become a "swelling drumlie wave." The lady hears " loud tempests storming before the mid-day," and so does the boy Burns hear " lang or noon, loud tempests storming." Finally, the authoress is " perplexed " with the " sporting of fickle fortune," and our poet is wretchedly "deceived" by the ill-performed promises of the same " fickle fortune ; " and, not to be outdone by the lady's defiance of fortune's frowns, the independent youngster boasts that he "bears a heart shall support him still." A quarter of a century ago we pointed out those innocent plagiarisms to the late Bobert Chambers, who refers to them in his last remarks on this song.] SONG— IN THE CHARACTER OF A RUINED FARMER. Tune — " Go from my window, Love, do." (Chambers, 1852, Compared with the Orig. MS.) The sun he is sunk in the west, All creatures retired to rest, While here I sit, all sore beset, With sorrow, grief, and woe : And it's 0, fickle Fortune, O ! The prosperous man is asleep, Nor hears how the whirlwinds sweep ; But Misery and I must watch The surly tempest blow : And it's 0, fickle Fortune, O! «*• IS.] POEMS AND SONGS. There lies the dear [partner] of my breast ; Her cares for a moment at rest : Must I see thee, my youthful pride, Thus brought so very low ! And it's O, fickle Fortune, ! 9 [mate] There lie my sweet [babies] in her arms ; [babes] No anxious fear their [little] hearts alarms ; [delete] But for their sake my heart does ache, With many a bitter throe : And it's 0, fickle Fortune, O ! I once was by Fortune carest : I once could relieve the distrest : Now life's poor [support,] hardly earn'd, [pittance,] My fate will scarce bestow: And it's 0, fickle Fortune, ! No comfort, no comfort I have ! How welcome to me were the grave ! But then my wife and children dear — 0, whither would they go ! And it's O, fickle Fortune, O ! O whither, [whither] shall I turn ! All friendless, forsaken, forlorn ! For, in this world, Rest or Peace I never more shall know ! And it's 0, fickle Fortune, O ! [where] [The original of this early production is in the possession of William Nelson, Esq., Edinburgh. It is a stray leaf from a collection formerly known as the Stair MS. now dissevered and scattered abroad. The "ruined farmer" here is undoubtedly meant as a presentment of the author's father bravely struggling to weather out his hard Gate at Mount 10 POEMS AND SONGS. [1777- Oliphant. As a pathetic dirge, it is the best illustration of the fol- lowing passage in the poet's autobiography : — " The farm proved a ruinous bargain My father was advanced in life when he married. I was the eldest of seven children, and he, worn out by early hardship, was unfit for labour. My father's spirit was soon irritated, but not easily broken. There was a freedom in his lease in two years more ; aud to weather these two years we retrenched expenses," &c. But what shall we say regarding the youthful poet's dirge, and the antique, wailing melody to which he fitted the words? He has given us the title of that tune, which fortunately we are enabled to present here to our readers ; for Stenhouse in his notes to Johnson's Museum, records that Burns recovered that old melody, and transmitted it to Johnson. The wonder is — in that sequestered locality, and under eighteen years old—how he acquired, and retained it in his memory. The text is very rough, and in order to fit the melody, the singer will require to substitute the words suggested on the margin for those within brackets in the text. The word " little," in verse fourth, must be omitted.] Slow Time. Air — " Go from my window, love, do ' i 3 SI m »— ±- The — « * B — -g-^- sun he is sunk in the west, W^ All crea - tuxes re- S ^ 3=t 9 5 ■r*, &s6( *j¥*U«fr 4£^6-n /?^^W^/^ ±*^l4 . iET. 23.] POEMS AND SONGS. 31 PARAPHRASE OF THE FIRST PSALM. (Edinburgh Ed., 1787.) The man, in life wherever plac'd, Hath happiness in store, Who walks not in the wickeds' way, Nor learns their guilty lore ! Nor from the seat of scornful pride Casts forth his eyes abroad, But with humility and awe Still walks before his God. That man shall flourish like the trees, Which by the streamlets grow ; The fruitful top is spread on high, And firm the root below. But he whose blossom buds in guilt Shall to the ground be cast, And, like the rootless stubble, tost Before the sweeping blast. For why ? that God the good adore, Hath giv'n them peace and rest, But hath decreed that wicked men Shall ne'er be truly blest. [This and the Psalm immediately following evidently belong to the same period of the author's life as the two preceding pieces.] 32 POEMS AND SONGS. t 17S1 - THE FIRST SIX VERSES OF THE NINETIETH PSALM VERSIFIED. (Edinburgh Ed., 1787.) Thou, the first, the greatest friend Of all the human race ! Whose strong right hand has ever been Their stay and dwelling place ! Before the mountains heav'd their heads Beneath Thy forming hand, Before this ponderous 1 globe itself, Arose at Thy command ; That Pow'r which rais'd and still upholds This universal frame, From countless, unbeginning time Was ever still the same. Those mighty periods of years Which seem to us so vast, Appear no more before Thy sight Than yesterday that's past. Thou giv'st the word : Thy creature, man, Is to existence brought ; Again Thou say'st, " Ye sons of men, Return ye into nought I" Thou lay est them, with 2 all their cares, In everlasting 3 sleep ; As with a flood Thou tak'st them off With overwhelming sweep. «r- 23.] POEMS AND SONGS. S3 They flourish like the morning flow'r, In beauty's pride array'd; But long ere night — cut down, it lies All wither'd and decay'd. [The following variations are found in a copy of this Paraphrase, exhibited on a framed folio sheet, in the poet's early manuscript, within his monument at Edinburgh : — 1 mighty. 2 and 3 never-ending.] A PRAYER IN THE PROSPECT OF DEATH. (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) O Thou unknown, Almighty Cause Of all my hope and fear ! In whose dread presence, ere an hour, Perhaps I must appear ! If I have wander'd in those paths Of life I ought to shun — As something, loudly, in my breast, Remonstrates I have done — Thou know'st that Thou hast formed me With passions wild and strong ; And list'ning to their witching voice Has often led me wrong. Where human weakness has come short, Or frailty stept aside, Do Thou, All-Good — for such Thou art — Tn shades of darkness hide. I. C 34 POEMS AND SONGS. [1781. Where with intention I have err'd, No other plea I have, But, Thou art good ; and Goodness still Delighteth to forgive. [This composition appears, under the date August 1784, in the Common-place Book, as "A Prayer when fainting fits and other alarming symptoms of a pleurisy, or some other dangerous disorder, which indeed still threaten me, first put nature on the alarm." These words distinctly point back to a date more or less remote ; consequently those editors who have assumed this Prayer and its relative prose passage to apply to the Mossgiel period of the author's life are at fault in their chronology. The verses are marked by extraordinary vigour, and have been much criticised by those who will be content with no religious poetry, except such as deals in substitutional salvation. A recent reverend annotator has remarked that "these verses are indication of a contrition for sin, that in the mouth of any other confessor (even St Augustine) would be attributed by the most scrupulous judges to the influence of the Holy Ghost."] STANZAS, ON THE SAME OCCASION. (Edinburgh Ed., 1787.) Why am I loth to leave this earthly scene ? Have I so found it full of pleasing charms — Some drops of joy with draughts of ill between — Some gleams of sunshine 'mid 1 renewing storms ? Is it departing pangs my soul 2 alarms ? Or death's unlovely, dreary, dark abode ? For guilt, for guilt, my terrors are in arms : I tremble to approach an angry God, And justly smart beneath His sin-avenging rod. Fain would I say, " Forgive my foul offence !" Fain promise never more to disobey ; 3 But, should my Author health again dispense, Again I might 4 desert fair virtue's way ; ^ T - 23 -] POEMS AND SONGS. 35 Again in folly's path might go astray ; 5 Again exalt the brute and sink the man ; Then how should 6 I for heavenly mercy pray, Who act so counter heavenly mercy's plan ? Who sin so oft have moum'd, yet 7 to temptation ran ? Thou great Governor of all below ! If I may dare a lifted eye to Thee, 8 Thy nod 9 can make the tempest cease to blow, Or still the tumult of the rao-ino- sea : With that controlling pow'r assist ev'n me, Those headlong furious passions to confine, For all unfit I feel my pow'rs to be, 10 To rule their torrent in th' allowed line ; 0, aid me with Thy help, Omnipotence Divine ! [This composition is set down in the poet's Common-place Book immediately following the preceding, and entitled " Misgivings in the Hour of Despondency and Prospect of Death." He copied it from thence into the Stair manuscript of early pieces (now dismembered and scattered abroad). It is there headed — "Misgivings of Despon- dency on the Approach of the Gloomy Monarch of the Grave." It was also inserted in the manuscript book of like pieces presented to Mrs Dunlop, under the heading — "Stanzas on the same occasion (as the preceding) in the manner. of Beattie's Minstrd." That collection is also cut up and scattered ; and these verses, apparently once forming part of it, are exhibited within the Burns monument at Edinburgh: On comparing the copy in the text with the earlier ones, we find that the versification underwent some polishing in 1787, to fit it for appearance in the author's Edinburgh edition. This piece acquires a certain interest from the manner in which Dr John Brown (author of "Bab and his Friends") lias introduced an anecdote concerning it in his little book — " Pet Marjorie : a Storv <■!' Child Life Fifty Years Ago" (1863). The variations in the early manuscripts are as follow : — 1 midst. 2 heart. 3 Forgive where I so oft have gone astray. 4 would. 6 Again to passions I would fall a I'ruy. 6 with passions would be led astray. 6 can. 7 then. 8 If one so black with crimes dare call on Thee. ° breath . ■ rod. 10 unlit my native powers be. ao feel my pom era be.] 36 POEMS AND SONGS. [17S2. FICKLE FORTUNE.— "A FRAGMENT." (Crohek, 1808.) Though fickle Fortune has deceived me, She promis'd fair and perform'd but ill ; Of mistress, friends, and wealth bereav'd me, Yet I bear a heart shall support me still. — I'll act with prudence as far as I'm able, But if success I must never find, Then come misfortune, I bid thee welcome, I'll meet thee with an undaunted mind. [The poet has set this down in his Common-place Book, under date, September 1785, and thus remarks : — " The above was an extempore, under the pressure of a heavy train of misfortunes, which indeed threatened to undo me altogether. It was just at the close of that dreadful period mentioned, [when the prayer ' O Thou great Being,' was composed — see p. 30,] and though the weather has brightened up a little with me, yet there has always been since, a 'tempest brewing round me in the grim sky' of futurity, which I pretty plainly see will some time or other — perhaps ere long — overwhelm me, and drive me into some doleful dell to pine in solitary, squalid wretchedness." The reader has already seen, at page 7, the four lines which form the first half of the above fragment. The poet here reproduces them with an important variation in line third, which he appropriately alters from " Of many a joy and hope bereav'd me." These eight lines altogether read more like rough prose than measured verse ; they have at the same time a certain earnest vigour, and in sentiment are in unison with all he wrote at that period. He says the fragment was constructed "in imitation of an old Scotch song well known among the country ingle-sides," and of that he quotes one verse thus — " When clouds in skies do come together, To hide the brightness of the sun, There will surely be some pleasant weather When a' thir storms are spent and gone." He tells us that he has noted that verse " both to mark the song and tune I mean, and likewise as a debt I owe to the author, as the repeat- ing of that verse has lighted up my flame a thousand times."] iET. 24] POEMS AND SOXGS. 37 RAGING FORTUNE— FRAGMENT OF SONG. (Cromek, 1808.) O RAGING Fortune's withering blast Has laid my leaf full low ! raging Fortune's withering blast Has laid my leaf full low ! My stem was fair, my bud was green, My blossom sweet did blow ; The dew fell fresh, the sun rose mild, And made my branches grow ; But luckless Fortune's northern storms Laid a' my blossoms low, — But luckless Fortune's northern storms Laid a my blossoms low ! [This sketch was produced at the same time with the preceding Our poet records in his Common-place Book that he then " set about composing an air in the old Scotch style. I am (he adds) not musical scholar enough to prick down my tune properly, so it can never see the light, . . . but these were the verses I composed to suit it." As we do with the verses at page 40, we omit the capital letter " " at the end of every second line, to avoid the unpleasant effect in reading.] IMPROMPTU— " I'LL GO AND BE A SODGER." (Currie, 1800.) why the deuce should I repine, And be an ill foreboder ? I'm twenty-three, and five feet nine, I'll go and be a sodger ! 38 POEMS AND SONGS. [17S2. I gat some gear wi' mickle care, I held it weel thegither ; But now it's gane, and something mair — I'll go and be a sodger ! [Tins is the sequel to the poet's previous penitential bemoanings, and apostrophes to " Fickle Fortune." " Come, stubborn pride and unshrinking resolution !" — he wrote to a lady friend, on receipt of what he deemed ruinous intelligence—" accompany me through this, to me, miserable world ! Your friendship I think I can count on, though I should date my letters from a marching regiment. Early in life, and all my life, I reckoned on a recruiting drum as my forlorn hope." The poet was now at home from Irvine. He reached Lochlie about the end of March ; and Chambers mentions, in 1856, that the stone chimney-piece of the little garret room where Burns slept in his father's house still bore the initials "R. B.," with the date 1782, supposed to have been cut by the poet's own hand. That relic no longer exists.] SONG— "NO CHURCHMAN AM I." Tune — " Prepare, my dear Brethren." (Edinburgh Ed., 1787.) No churchman am I for to rail and to write, No statesman nor soldier to plot or to fight, No sly man of business contriving a snare, For a big-belly'd bottle's the whole of my care. The peer I don't envy, I give him his bow ; I scorn not the peasant, tho' ever so low ; But a club of good fellows, like those that are here, And a bottle like this, are my glory and care. Here passes the squire on his brother — his horse ; There centum per centum, the cit with his purse ; But see you the Crown how it waves in the air ? There a big-belly'd bottle still eases my care. -st. 24.] POEMS AND SONGS. 39 The wife of my bosom, alas ! she did die ; For sweet consolation to church I did fly ; I found that old Solomon proved it fair, That a big-belly 'd bottle 's a cure for all care. I once was persuaded a venture to make ; A letter inform'd me that all was to wreck ; But the pursy old landlord just waddl'd up stairs, With a glorious bottle that ended my cares. " Life's cares they are comforts" * — a maxim laid down By the Bard, what d'ye call him ? that wore the black gown ; And faith I agree with th' old prig to a hair ; For a big-belly'd bottle's a heav'n of a care. A STANZA ADDED IN A MASON LODGE. Then fill up a bumper and make it o'erflow, And honours masonic prepare for to throw ; May ev'ry true Brother of the Compass and Square Have a big-belly'd bottle when harass'd 1 with care. [We are inclined to set this down as a production of 1782. The Bachelors' Club was instituted at the close of 1780, and the poet was admitted an apprentice Free Mason in July 1781, just before he pro- ceeded to Irvine. He was passed and raised on 1st October following, on which occasion, if he was present at Tarbolton, he must have travelled from Irvine for the purpose. The song in the text has none of the elements of popularity in it, and seems more like an imitation of an English song, than a spontaneous outburst of his own genius. Indeed in the collection of songs which he studied so much during his boyhood, there is one that appears to have been his model : the closing line of one of its stanzas being " And a big-belly'd bottlo's a mighty good thing." Var. 1 Pressed, in all editions prior to 1793.] * Young's "Night Thoughts. "—A'. B. 40 POEMS AND SONGS. [HS2. BALLAD— MY FATHER WAS A FARMER. Tune — " The weaver and his shuttle, O." (Cromek, 1808.) My father was a farmer upon the Carrick border, 1 And carefully he bred me in decency and order ; He bade me act a manly part, though I had ne'er a farthing; For without an honest manly heart, no man was worth regarding. Then out into the world my course I did determine ; Tho' to be rich was not my wish, yet to be great was charming : My talents they were not the worst, nor yet my education : Resolv'd was I, at least to try, to mend my situation. In many a way, and vain essay, I courted Fortune's favour; Some cause unseen still stept between, to frustrate each endeavour ; Sometimes by foes I was o'erpower'd, sometimes by friends forsaken ; And when my hope was at the top, I still was worst mistaken. Then sore harass'd, and tir'd at last, with Fortune's vain delusion, I dropt my schemes, like idle dreams, and came to this conclusion : The past was bad, and the future hid, its good or ill untried ; But the present hour was in my pow'r, and so I would enjoy it ^t. 24.] POEMS AND SONGS. 41 Np help, nor hope, nor view had I, nor person to befriend me ; So T must toil, and sweat, and moil, 2 and labour to sustain me ; To plough and sow, to reap and mow, my father bred me early ; For one, he said, to labour bred, was a match for Fortune fairly. Thus all obscure, unknown, and poor, thro' life I'm doom'd to wander, Till down my weary bones I lay in everlasting slumber ; No view nor care, but shun whate'er might breed me pain or sorrow ; I live to-day as well's I may, regardless of to-morrow. But cheerful still, I am as well as a monarch in his palace, Tho' Fortune's frown still hunts me down, with all her wonted malice : I make indeed my daily bread, but ne'er can make it farther : But as daily bread is all I need, I do not much regard her. When sometimes by my labour, I earn a little money, Some unforeseen misfortune comes gen'rally upon me ; Mischance, mistake, or by neglect, or my goodnatur'd folly: But come what will, I've sworn it still, I'll ne'er be melancholy. All you who follow wealth and power with unremitting ardour, The more in this you look for bliss, you leave your view the farther : 42 POEMS AND SONGS, [1782. Had you the wealth Potosi boasts, or nations to adore you, A cheerful honest-hearted clown I will prefer before you. [The poet describes the above as " a wild rhapsody, miserably deficient in versification, but as the sentiments are the genuine feelings of my heart, for that reason I have a particular pleasure in conning it over." 1 Here, and at the close of each line of the ballad, the letter "0 " is in- troduced in the Author's MS. to make it fit the tune to which he composed it. It has a disturbing effect in reading, and therefore we withdraw it from our text for the present. In an after part of the work the verses will be given verbatim, as part of the Common-place Book. 2 "moil" in the MS., but " broil" in Cromek.] JOHN BARLEYCORN : A BALLAD.* (Edinburgh Ed., 1787.) There was three kings into the east, Three kings both great and high, And they hae sworn a solemn oath 1 John Barleycorn should die. They took 2 a plough and plough'd him down, Put clods upon his head, And they hae sworn a solemn oath John Barleycorn was dead. But the cheerful Spring came kindly 3 on, And show'rs began to fall ; John Barleycorn got up again, And sore surpris'd them all. The sultry suns of Summer came, 4 And he grew thick and strong ; His head weel arm'd wi' pointed spears, That no one should him wrong. * This is partly composed on the plan of an old song known by the same name. — B. B. **• 2*-l POEMS AND SONGS. The sober Autumn enter'd mild, 5 When 6 he grew wan and pale ; His bending joints and drooping head Show'd he began to fail. His colour sicken'd more and more, He faded into age ; And then his enemies began To show their deadly rage. They've taen a weapon, 7 long and sharp, And cut him by the knee ; Then ty'd him fast upon a cart, Like a rogue for forgerie. They laid him down upon his back, And cudgell'd him full sore ; They hung him up before the storm, And turn'd him o'er and o'er. They filled up a darksome pit With water to the brim, They heaved in John Barleycorn — There, let him sink or swim. They laid him out 8 upon the floor, To work him farther woe; And still, as signs of life appear'd, They toss'd him to and fro. They wasted, o'er a scorching flame, The marrow of his bones ; But a 9 miller us'd him worst of all, For he crush'd him between two stones. 44 POEMS AND SONGS. [1782. And they hae taen his very heart's blood, And drank it round and round ; And still the more and more they drank, Their joy did more abound. John Barleycorn was a hero bold, Of noble enterprise ; For if you do but taste his blood, 'Twill make your courage rise. 'Twill make a man forget his woe ; 'Twill 10 heighten all his joy : 'Twill make the widow's heart to sing, Tho' the tear were in her eye. Then let us toast John Barleycorn, Each man a glass in hand ; And may his great posterity Ne'er fail in old Scotland ! [In the Common-place Book, this is set down immediately before Poor Mailie, and all that we know concerning the date of the two poems is that they were written at Lochlie, prior to the year 1784. Gilbert has said regarding the date of the latter that his two younger brothers William and John, then acted as drivers in the ploughing operations of the poet and himself. John, in 1782, would be thirteen years old — a very likely age for him to commence duties of that kind ; so by this mode of calculation we arrive at a fair conclusion, were we to hold that John Barleycorn and Poor Mailie were composed shortly after Burns' return from Irvine in the early spring of 1782. It is not likely that the poet ever saw the ancient ballad of " John Barleycorn " in any collection. A copy in the Pepys' library at Cambridge furnished the old version included by Robert Jamieson in his collection of Ballads, 2 vols., 1808. In the poet's note to the Ballad he says : — " I once heard the old song that goes by this name sung, and being very fond of it, and remember- ing only two or three verses of it, viz., the 1st, 2d, and 3d, with some scraps, I have interwoven them here and there in the following piece." The poet could never be induced to correct the defective grammar in the opening line, deeming, we suppose, with Shakespeare, aw. 24.] POEMS AND SONGS. that bad grammar is sometimes a positive beauty. James Hogg had the same feeling in regard to his favourite song " "When the kye comes hanie." In another of Burns' most admired Ballads, — " There was five Carlines in the south " — evidently composed on the model of John Barleycorn — he retains the " bad grammar " and directs the song to be sung to the tune of Chevy Chase. "We cannot tell whether that air was the same above referred to, which he " once heard sung." In our youth we used to hear John Barleycorn sung, and to this day the tune rings in our ears. "We never saw it in print, and lest it should be lost to the world, we here set it down. Slow time. Air from oral tradition. s ±s 3 =^=i^S 5^3 ., — . There was three kings in - to the east, Three kings both great and high; fe^ :K: a ■ ~~ ■— It ~rt- And they hae sworn a so - lerun oath, John Bar - ley - corn should die. The variations from the Common-place Book are as follow : — 1 That John Barleycorn. 2 They've taen. 3 The Spring time it came on. 4 The Summer it came on. 5 The Autumn it came on. 6 And. 7 They took a hook was. 8 They've thrown him out. 9 the miller. ]0 And.] THE DEATH AND DYING WORDS OF POOR MAILIE, THE AUTHOR'S ONLY 1 PET YOWE, AN UNCO MOURNFU' TALK. (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) As Mailie, an' her lambs thegither, Was 2 ae day nibblin on the tether, Upon her cloot a she coost b a hitch, An' owrc she warsl'd c in the ditch : There, groanin, dying, she did lie, When Hughoc* he cam doytin d by. a hoof. b cast. c fell struggling. d walking stupidly. * A neibour hcrd-callaut, about three-fourths as wise as other folk. — Ji. B. 46 POEMS AND SONGS. t 17S3 - Wi' glowrin e een, and lifted han's Poor Hughoc like a statue stan's ; He saw her days were near-hand ended, But, wae's my heart ! he could na mend it ! He gaped wide, but naething spak, At length poor Mailie silence brak. " thou, whase lamentable face Appears to mourn my woefu' case ! My dying words attentive hear, An' bear them to my Master dear. " Tell him, if e'er again he keep As muckle gear f as buy a sheep — O, bid him never tie them mair, Wi' wicked strings o' hemp or hair ! But ca' them out to park or hill, An' let them wander at their will : So may his flock increase, an' grow To scores o' lambs, and packs o' woo' ! " Tell him, he was a Master kin', An' ay was guid to me an' mine ; An' now my dying charge I gie him, My helpless lambs, I trust them wi' him. " 0, bid him save their harmless lives, Frae dogs, an' tods,& an' butchers' knives ! But gie them guid cow-milk 3 their fill, Till they be fit to fend themsel ; An' tent them duly, e'en an' morn, Wi' taets' h o' hay an' ripps 1 o' corn. e staring. ' cash. e foxes. h small quantities. s handfulfs. •* T - 25 -l POEMS AND SONGS. 47 " An' may the}' never learn the gaets,J Of ither vile, wanrestfu' k pets — To slink thro' slaps, an' reave an' steal, At stacks o' pease, or stocks o' kail ! So may they, like their great 4 forbears, For monie a year come thro' the sheers : So wives will gie them bits o' bread, An' bairns greet for them when they're dead. " My poor toop-lamb, my son an' heir, 0, bid him breed him up wi' care ! An' if he live to be a beast, To pit some havins 1 in his breast ! " An' warn him — what I winna name 5 To stay content wi' yowes at hame ; An' no to rin an' wear his cloots, Like ither menseless,™ graceless brutes. "An niest, my yowie, silly thing, Gude keep thee frae a tether string ! O, may thou ne'er forgather up, Wi' ony blastit, moorland toop ; But ay keep mind to moop u an' moll. Wi' sheep o' credit like thysel ! " And now, my bairns, wi' my last breath, I lea'e my blessin wi' you baith : An' when you think upo' 6 your mither, Mind to be kind to ane anither. 1 ways. k restless. ' manners. «° unmannerly. n fondle. ° associate. 48 POEMS AND SONGS. [1784. " Now, honest Hughoc, dinna fail, To tell my master a' my tale ; An' bid him burn this cursed tether, An' for thy pains thou'se get my blather." P This said, poor Mailie turn'd her head, An' clos'd her een amang the dead ! [Carlyle considers this the poet's happiest effort of its peculiar kind : he classes it with the Address to a Mouse, and the Auld Farmer's Mare, but holds that " this has even nore of sportive tenderness in it." It was composed — just as we now see it — one afternoon while engaged with his plough on the slopes of Lochlie, his brother Gilbert being at work with his team on another part of the field. The poet's youngest brother John — of whose early death, by the way, not a syllable has been ever heard — drove the horses, while the musing bard guided his plough in the even rig. Gilbert narrates the incident to this effect : — As they were setting out about noon, with their teams, a curious-looking, awkward boy, named Hugh Wilson, ran up to them in a very excited manner, and with a rueful countenance, announced that poor Mailie had got entangled in her tether and was lying in the ditch. It had never occurred to the terror-stricken " Huoc " that he might have lent a hand in lifting her up : Mailie, however, was soon rescued from her peril and lived — it is hoped — to see her bairns' bairns. This timely intervention of the half-witted callant was the means of sending down the name of poor Mailie along with his own to distant posterity; for his comical consternation and pathetic interest in her fate suggested the poem to Burns. The variations here annexed are from the Common-place Book : — 1 my ain. 2 Wern. 3 net milk. 4 auld. 6 ay at ridin time. 6 ever mind your mither.] p bladder. .et. 25.] POEMS AND SONGS. 49 POOR MAILIE'S ELEGY. (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) Lament in rhyme, lament in prose, Wi' saut tears tricklin down your nose ; Our bardie's fate is at a close, Past a' remead ! The last, sad cape-stane o' his woe's Poor Mailie's dead ! It's no the loss o' warl's gear, That could sae bitter draw the tear, Or mak our bardie, dowie, wear The mournin weed : He's lost a friend an' neebor dear, In Mailie dead. Thro' a' the town she trotted by him ; A lang half-mile she could descry him ; Wi' kindly bleat, when she did spy him, She ran wi' speed : A friend mair faithfu' ne'er cam nigh him, Than Mailie dead. I wat she was a sheep o' sense, An' could behave hersel wi' merjse : a I'll say't, she never brak a fence, Thro' thievish greed. Our bardie, lanely, keeps the spence b Sin' Mailie's dead. a good manners. b inner room. I. D 50 POEMS AND SONGS. [1783. Or, if he wanders up the howe, c Her livin image in her yowe Comes bleatin till him, owre the knowe, d For bits o' bread ; An' down the briny pearls rowe For Mailie dead. She was nae get e o' moorlan tips, f Wi' tauted ket,& an' hairy hips ; For her forbears 11 were brought in ships, Frae 'yont the Tweed : A bonier fleesh ne'er cross'd the clips Than Mailie's — dead. Wae worth that man wha first did shape That vile, wanchancie 1 thing — a raep ! It maks guid fellows girn an' gape, Wi' chokin dread; An' Robin's bonnet wave wi' crape For Mailie dead. 0, a' ye bards on bonie Doon ! An' wha on Ayr your chanters tune ! Come, join the melancholious croon O' Robin's reed ! His heart will never get aboon — His Mailie's dead ! [That this poem was composed at a period somewhat later than the "Dying Words," is probable from the fact that the "Elegy" is not inscribed in the poet's Common-place Book, while the main poem is recorded there, almost verbatim as afterwards published. Dr Currie informs us (Vol. III., p. 395, Ed. 1801), that in preparing the " Elegy" c valley. d knoll. e offspring. rams. b matted fleece. h ancestors. i unlucky. ^et. 25.] POEMS AND SONGS. 51 for the press, the poet substituted the present sixth verse for the fol- lowing : — " She was nae get o' runted rams, Wi' woo like goats, and legs like trams : She was the flower o' Fairlie lambs — A famous breed ; Now Robin, greetin, chews the hams, 0' Mailie dead." The substituted stanza is doubtless a great improvement ; yet we can- not but regret with Currie that " Fairlie lambs " should lose the honour once intended for them. Fairlie was the first place in Ayrshire where the poet's father in early manhood obtained employment.] SONG— THE RIGS 0' BARLEY. (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) It was upon a Lammas night, When corn rigs are bonie, Beneath the moon's unclouded light, I held awa to Annie ; The time flew by, wi' tentless heed ; Till, 'tween the late and early, Wi' sma' persuasion she agreed To see me thro' the barley. Corn rigs, an' barley rigs, An' corn rigs are bonie : I'll ne'er forget that happy night, Amang the rigs wi' Annie. The sky was blue, the wind was still, The moon was shining clearly ; I set her down, wi' right good will, Amang the rigs o' barley : I kon't her heart was a' my ain ; I lov'd her most sincerely ; I kiss'd her owre and owre again, Aiming the rigs o' barley. Corn rigs, an' barley rigs, &c. 5 2 POEMS AND SONGS. [1783. I lock'd her in my fond embrace ; Her heart was beating rarely : My blessings on that happy place, Amang the rigs o' barley ! But by the moon and stars so bright, That shone that hour so clearly ! She ay shall bless that happy night Amang the rigs o' barley. Corn rigs, an' barley rigs, &c. I hae been blythe wi' comrades dear ; I hae been merry drinking ; I hae been joyfu' gath'rin gear; I hae been happy thinking : But a' the pleasures e'er I saw, Tho' three times doubl'd fairly — That happy night was worth them a', Amang the rigs o' barley. Corn rigs, an' barley rigs, &c. [We conceive that we cannot be far wrong in setting down this and the four songs which immediately follow as compositions of the period from the summer of 1782 to the close of 1783, when the Burnes family was preparing to remove to Mossgiel, and old William Burnes was about to bid them all farewell for ever. Many of the "Annies" of the district have contended for the dubious honour of being the heroine of this warmly coloured, yet highly popular, lyric. The name of Anne Bonald has been mentioned ; but, as we have already seen, the poet was content to admire her at a respectful distance. Anne Rankine, daughter of a farmer at Adamhill, within two miles west of Lochlie, and who after- wards became Mrs Merry, not only " owned the soft impeachment," but to her dying day boasted that she was the Annie of the "Bigs o' Barley." If so, then Gilbert was right when he told Dr Currie that " there was often a great disparity between the fair captivator and her attributes " as depicted in song by her lover. Our poet is said to have, on more than one occasion in after-life, referred to the closing verse of this song as one of his happiest strokes of workmanship.] jet. 25.] POEMS AND SONGS. 53 SONG— " COMPOSED IN AUGUST." (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) Now westlin winds and slaughtering guns Bring Autumn's pleasant weather ; The moorcock 1 springs on whirring wings, Amang the blooming heather : Now waving grain, wide o'er the plain, Delights the weary farmer ; And the moon shines bright, when I rove at night, To muse upon my charmer. The partridge loves 2 the fruitful fells, The plover loves 2 the mountains ; The woodcock haunts the lonely dells, The soaring hern the fountains : Thro' lofty groves the cushat roves, The path of man to shun it ; The hazel bush o'erhangs the thrush, The spreading thorn the linnet. Thus ev'ry kind their pleasure find, The savage and the tender ; Some social join, and leagues combine, Some solitary wander : Avaunt, away, the cruel sway ! Tyrannic man's dominion ; The sportsman's joy, the murd'ring cry, The flutt'ring, gory pinion ! But, Peggy dear, the ev'ning's clear, Thick flies the skimming swallow ; 54 POEMS AND SONGS. [1783. The sky is blue, the fields in view, All fading-green and yellow : Come let us stray our gladsome way, And view the charms of Nature ; The rustling corn, the fruited thorn, And ev'ry 3 happy creature. We'll gently walk, and sweetly talk, Till 4 the silent moon shine 5 clearly ; I'll grasp 6 thy waist, and, fondly prest, Swear how I love thee dearly : Not vernal show'rs to budding flow'rs, Not Autumn to the farmer, So dear can be as thou to me, My fair, my lovely charmer ! [This is " Song Second " (of the author's Edinburgh edition), referred to in his autobiography as " the ebullition of that passion which ended the school business" at Kirkoswald. If the lyric was suggested and partly sketched out when the poet was but in his seventeenth year, we are assured, on the testimony of Mrs Begg, that at a considerably later period he experienced another love-fit for Kirkoswald Peggy, and cor- responded with her, with a view to matrimony. It would be then that he dressed up this finely descriptive composition into its existing form ; but as he soon thereafter fell into grief about the subject of his epistle to Eankine, he was forced to abandon the idea of matrimony with Peggy. "We shall again have occasion to advert to this very early inspirer of the poet's passion, when, under date 1786, we give the verses he inscribed on a presentation copy to her of his first edition. Among the bard's letters also will be given one addressed by him to an early Carrick friend, Mr Thomas Orr, Park, dated 11th Nov. 1784, which throws some light on the present subject. The variations in the Common-place Book the reader has already got at page 3. The poet sent the song to Johnson in 1792, with the fol- lowing touches of alteration : — 1 gor-cock. 2 loes. 3 ilka. 4 While. 6 shines. 6 clasp.] jet. 23.] POEMS AND SONGS. 55 SONG— "MY NANIE, 0." (Edinburgh Ed., 1787.) Behind yon hills where Lugar 5 ' flows, 'Mang moors an' mosses many, 0, The wintry 1 sun the day has clos'd, And I'll awa to Nanie, O. The westlin wind blaws loud an' shill ; The night's baith mirk 2 and rainy, ; But I'll get my plaid an' out I'll steal, An' owre the hill to Nanie, O. My Nanie's charming, sweet, an' young ; Nae artfu' wiles to win ye, O : May ill befa' the flattering tongue That wad beguile my Nanie, 0. Her face is fair, her heart is true ; As spotless as she's bonie, O ; The op'ning go wan, wat wi' dew, Nae purer is than Nanie, 0. A country lad is my degree, An' few there be that ken me, ; But what care I how few they be, I'm welcome ay to Nanie, O. My riches a's my penny-fee, An' I maun guide it cannie, ; But warl's gear ne'er troubles me, My thoughts are a' — my 3 Nanie, 0. * " Stinchar," in all the author's editions, including that of 1794 ; but George Thomson says the poet sanctioned the change in 1792, 56 POEMS AND SONGS. [1783. Our auld 4 guidman delights to view His sheep an' kye 5 thrive bonie O ; But I'm as blythe that hauds his pleugh, An' has nae care but Nanie, 0. Come weel, come woe, I care na by ; I'll tak what Heav'n will sen' me, : Nae ither care in life have I, But live, an' love my Nanie, O. [The author, in his Common-place Book, directs this song to be sung to the tune of " As I came in by London, O," which no doubt would be the opening line of some then popular, but now unknown English song, set to the old Scotch air, " My Nanie, O." A vast deal has been written and said concerning the heroineship of this song. The Eev. Hamilton Paul, who belonged to Ayrshire, and was almost a contemporary of Burns, thus wrote in 1819 : — " In Kil- marnock, Burns first saw 'Nanie,' the subject of one of his most popular ballads. She captivated him as well by the charms of her person as by the melody of her voice. As he devoted much of his spare time to her society, and listened to her singing with the most religious attention, her sister observed to him, that he paid more attention to Nanie's singing than he would do to a preaching ; he retorted with an oath — 'Madam, there's no comparison.'" On the other hand, Gilbert Burns, who was aware that the song was composed before his brother ever spent an hour in Kilmarnock, informed George Thomson, that " Nanie was a farmer's daughter in Tarbolton parish, named Fleming, to whom the poet paid some of that roving attention which he was continually devoting to some one. Her charms were indeed mediocre, and what she had were sexual, which indeed was the characteristic of the greater part of his mistresses. He was no Platonic lover, whatever he might pretend or suppose of himself." Allan Cunningham and other annotators have, through a miscon- ception of the opening lines of the song, run away with the notion that Nanie belonged to Carrick, like the subject of the preceding lyric. But when we have the poet himself confessing that Vive V amour, et vive la bagatelle were his " sole principles of action," and that when the labours of each day were over, he " spent the evening in the way after his own heart," we must conclude that his rural divinities were not far to seek. It is by no means requisite that the inspirer of this picture of rustic purity should have been named "Nanie." Here the poet sets himself to clothe with suitable words one of our most popular native melodies, and unless he had closed each verse with the familiar name — " My Nanie, O," nothing that he could have composed for it could have answered the purpose so welL JEr ' 25 -J POEMS AND SONGS. 57 The early copy m the Common-place Book does not materially differ from that afterwards published ; but at the end of verse first, and at the close of the song he gives the following chorus :— "And my bonie Nanie, 0, My young, my handsome Nanie, ; Tho' I had the world all at my will, I would give it all for 6 Nanie, 0." The other variations are : — 1 weary. » dark. 3 about> 4 « auld » omitted- 5 Us kye _ 6 to] SONG— GREEN GROW THE RASHES. (Edinburgh Ed., 1787.) Chor. — Green grow the rashes, ; Green grow the rashes, ; The sweetest hours that e'er I spend, Are spent among the lasses, 0. There's nought but care on ev'ry han', In every hour that passes, : What signifies the life o' man, An' 'twere na for the lasses, 0. Green grow, &c. The war'ly race may riches chase, An' riches still may fly them, ; An' tho' at last they catch them fast, Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, 0. Green grow, &c. But gie me a cannie a hour at e'en, My arms about my dearie, O ; An' war'ly cares, an' war'ly men, May a' gae tapsalteerie, b O ! Green grow, &c. snug. b topsy-turvy. 58 POEMS AND SONGS. [1783. For you sae douce, c ye sneer 1 at this ; Ye' re nought but senseless asses, : The wisest man the warl' e'er 2 saw, He dearly lov'd the lasses, 0. Green grow, &c. Auld Nature swears, the lovely dears Her noblest work she classes, O : Her prentice han' she try'd on man, An' then she made the lasses, O. Green grow, &c. [The author has nowhere given an indication of the date of this widely popular song. He entered it among other early pieces in his Common-place Book in August 1784. It may have been then just composed ; but a Tarbolton contemporary spoke of it to Chambers, as a Lochlie production, in these terms : — " Burns composed a song on almost every tolerable-looking lass in the parish, and finally one in which he embraced them all." It is certain, however, that its crowning stanza — the last one — was not added till a much later date, perhaps not till he brushed up the song to appear in his Edinburgh volume of 1787. This is proved by the fact that in his early manuscript copies that verse is wanting. The poet's son Bobert, during the period of his retirement in Dum- fries, used, in connection with this song, to repeat a stanza added by himself, which deserves preservation as a happy sequel to his father's idea in the closing verse. It is as follows : — " Frae man's ain side the form was made That a' God's wark surpasses, ; Man only loes his ain heart's-hluid Wha dearly loves the lasses, 0." The early variations are only in the fourth verse : — 1 For you that's douse, and sneers at this. 2 the warl' saw. In all the author's printed copies, except in the Museum, the word spend in line third of the chorus is altered to " spent," to the detriment of the poet's grammar. "VVe therefore adhere to the Museum copy in that particular, which corresponds with the MS. of the Common-place Book.] c grave, stolid. *rr. 25.] POEMS AND SONGS. 59 SONG— "INDEED WILL I," QUO' FIND LAY. Tune — " Lass, an I come near thee." (Johnson's Museum, 1792.) " Wha is that at my bower-door ?" ' wha is it but Findlay !' "Then gae your gate, ye 'se nae be here :" 'Indeed maun I,' quo' Findlay, "What make ye, sae like a thief?" ' O come and see,' quo' Findlay ; "Before the morn ye'll work mischief" — ' Indeed will I,' quo' Findlay. " Gif I rise and let you in" — ' Let me in,' quo' Findlay, "Ye'll keep me waukin wi' your din" — ' Indeed will I,' quo' Findlay, " In my bower if ye should stay " — ' Let me stay,' quo' Findlay ; "I fear ye'll bide till break o' day" — ' Indeed will I,' quo' Findlay. " Here this night if ye remain" — ' I'll remain,' quo' Findlay ; "I dread ye'll learn the gaite again" — ■ ' Indeed will I,' quo' Findlay. "What may pass within this bower" — 1 Let it pass,' quo' Findlay ; " Ye maun conceal till your last hour"— ' Indeed will I,' quo' Findlay. [We consider ourselves justifiable in recording this as a production of the Lochlie period of the author's life. Gilbert Burns assured Cromrk that his brother composed it in emulation of a piece in Ramsay's Tea- table Miscellany, called " The auld man's best argument." An old GO POEMS AND SONGS. [1783. woman in Tarbolton, named Jean Wilson, used to divert him and his companions by singing it with great effect j and Gilbert supposed the poet had not then seen Eamsay's song. James Findlay, an Officer of Excise in Tarbolton, who afterwards married one of the " belles of Mauchline," was appointed, in March 1788, to train Burns for the duties of an exciseman. It is by no means improbable that this same Mr Findlay, or a relative of his, was the hero of the foregoing song.] REMORSE— A FRAGMENT. (Currie, 1800.) Of all the numerous ills that hurt our peace — That press the soul, or wring the mind with anguish, Beyond comparison the worst are those By our own folly, or our guilt brought on : x In ev'ry other circumstance, the mind Has this to say, ' it was no deed of mine : J But, when to all the evil of misfortune This sting is added, 'blame thy foolish self!' Or worser far, the pangs of keen remorse, The torturing, gnawing consciousness of guilt — Of guilt, perhaps, where we've involved others, The young, the innocent, who fondly lov'd us ; Nay more, that very love their cause of ruin ! O burning hell ! in all thy store of torments There's not a keener lash ! Lives there a man so firm, who, while his heart Feels all the bitter horrors of his crime, Can reason down its agonizing throbs ; And, after proper purpose of amendment, Can firmly force his jarring thoughts to peace? O happy, happy, enviable man ! O glorious magnanimity of soul ! [These lines (reminding one of the "Fragment of a Tragedy," at p. 11), are recorded, under date September 1783, in the poet's first Com- -«t. 25.] POEMS AND SOXGS. Gl mon-place Book. It is most probable that the poem is set down at its proper date, prompted by keen self-reproaches produced through the effects of immoral indulgence. In his observations which introduce the piece, he seems to take credit to himself for bearing up against his wretchedness with manly firmness, because tempered with a penitential sense of his own misconduct. This spirit he terms " a glorious effort of self-command." 1 Line fourth of this piece shews the only variation in early manuscripts. In the Common-place Book it appears as in our text. Currie gives it thus : That to our folly or our guilt we owe :] EPITAPH ON JAMES GRIEVE, LAIRD OF BOGHEAD, TARBOLTON* (Orig. Common-place Book, 1872 v Here lies Boghead amang the dead, In hopes to get salvation ; But if such as he, in Heav'n may be, Then welcome — hail ! damnation. [This is the earliest sample of an extensive crop of like facetiae which the author, to the close of his life, was fond of producing. It is not very complimentary to the poor laird who provoked it ; yet, by adopting a very slight variation, the poet, in his Kilmarnock volume, converted this quatrain into a rich compliment to his friend, Gavin Hamilton, thus ; — "The poor man weeps — here Gavin sleeps, Whom canting wretches blamed ; But with such as he, where'er he be, May I be saved or damned !" Boghead lies upwards of a mile due west from Lochlie, and near Adam- hill. This epitaph does not accord very well with a gossiping anecdote given by Dr Waddell conveying the allegation of frequent friendly visits paid by Burns to Boghead during this early period.] 02 POEMS AND SONGS. [1784. EPITAPH ON WM. HOOD, SENR., IN TARBOLTON. (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) Here Souter Hood in death does sleep ; To hell if he's gane thither, Satan, gie him thy gear to keep ; He'll haud it weel thegether. [The poet printed this with the title "On a Celebrated Ruling Elder." Every annotator hitherto has held it to apply to one of the elders of Mauchline kirk who aided in the persecution of Gavin Hamilton. It now appears, however, that one of the Tarbolton elders had, at a much earlier period, also provoked the poet's hostility — not certainly by his hypocrisy, but by his extreme penuriousness. The epitaph is recorded in the Common-place Book, along with the following, under date April 1784.] EPITAPH ON MY OWN FRIEND AND MY FATHER'S FRIEND, WM. MUIR IN TARBOLTON MILL. (Currie, 1800.) An honest man here lies at rest, As e'er God with his image blest ; The friend of man, the friend of truth, The friend of age, and guide of youth : Few hearts like his — with virtue warm'd, Few heads with knowledge so informed : If there's another world, he lives in bliss ; If there is none, he made the best of this. [We take the title of this from the original Common-place Book. Currie's heading is simply "Epitaph on a Friend." This has always been regarded as one of the finest of the poet's numerous compliments, paid in a posthumous form, to hale and hearty friends. The subject of it was the tenant of "Willie's Mill" of Death and Dr Hornbook, and a life-long friend of Burns and his relations. He died in 1793. The opening line reads thus in the early MS. — Here lies a cheerful, honest breast.] jet. 26.] POEMS AND SONGS. 03 EPITAPH ON MY EVER HONOURED FATHER. (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) ye whose cheek the tear of pity stains, Draw near with pious rev'rence, and attend ! Here lie the loving husband's dear remains, The tender father, and the gen'rous friend ; The pitying heart that felt for human woe, The dauntless heart that fear'd no human pride ; The friend of man — to vice alone a foe ; For "ev'n his failings lean'd to virtue's side." [It is not likely (although not impossible) that this well-known Epitaph, like the preceding, was composed during the lifetime of the subject of it. We find it recorded on the same page, and under the same date (April 1784) as that to "William Muir, in the original Common-place Book. Instead of the opening line, as in the text, he lias there written — " ye who sympathize with virtue's pains ;" and apparently not satisfied with that, he suggests, at foot of the page— " ye whose hearts deceased merit pains." The improvement effected in that line, as afterwards published, is very striking. The death of William Burnes happened at Lochlie, on 13th February 1784. These lines of the son are engraved on the father's headstone in Alloway kirkyard ; and the reader, in musing over it, is apt to revert to the memorable words of John Murdoch : — " O for a world of men of such dispositions ! I have often wished, for the good of mankind, that it were as customary to honour and perpetuate the memory of those who excel in moral rectitude, as it is to extol what are called heroic actions. Then would the mausoleum of the friend of my youth overtop and surpass most of those we see in Westminster Abbey!"] 64 POEMS AND SONGS. [1784. BALLAD ON THE AMERICAN WAR. Tune.—" Killicrankie." (Edinburgh Ed„ 1787.) When Guildford good our pilot stood, An' did our hellim a thraw, man ; Ae night, at tea, began a plea, Within America, man : Then up they gat the maskin-pat, And in the sea did jaw, b man ; An' did nae less, in full congress, Than quite refuse our law, man. Then thro' the lakes Montgomery* takes, I wat he was na slaw, man ; Down Lowrie's Bumf he took a turn, And Carleton did ca', man : But yet, whatreck, he, at Quebec, Montgomery-like]: did fa', man, Wi' sword in hand, before his band, Amang his en'mies a', man. Poor Tammy Gage within a cage Was kept at Boston-ha', || man ; « helm. b toss. * General Richard Montgomery invaded Canada, autumn 1775, and took Montreal,— the British commander, Sir Guy Carleton, retiring before him. In an attack on Quebec he was less fortunate, being killed by a storm of grape-shot in leading on his men at Cape Diamond. + Lowrie's Burn, a pseudonym for the St Lawrence. % A passing compliment to the Montgomeries of Coilsfield, the patrons of the poet. || General Gage, governor of Massachusetts, was cooped up in Boston by General Washington during the latter part of 1775 and early part of 1776. In consequence of his inefficiency, he was replaced in October of that year by General Howe. -4=t. 26.] POEMS AND SONGS. Co Till Willie Howe took o'er the knowe For Philadelphia,* man ; Wi' sword an' gun he thought a sin Guid christian bluid to draw, man ; But at New-York, wi' knife an' fork, Sir-Loin he hacked sma',*!* man. Burgoyne gaed up, like spur an' whip, Till Fraser brave did fa', man ; Then lost his way, ae misty day, In Saratoga shaw, c man. J Cornwallis fought as lang's he dought, An' did the buckskins claw,§ man ; But Clinton's glaive frae rust to save, He hung it to the wa', man. Then Montague, an' Guilford too, Began to fear a fa', man ; And Sackville dour, wha stood the stoure, d The German chief to thraw, e man : For Paddy Burke, like ony Turk, Nae mercy had at a', man ; An' Charlie Fox threw by the box, An' lows'd his tinkler jaw, man. c wood. d commotion. e thwart. * General Howe removed his army from New York to Philadelphia in the summer of 1777. + Alluding to a razzia made hy orders of Howe at Peekskill, March 1777, when a large quantity of cattle belonging to the Americans was destroyed. £ General Burgoyne surrendered his army to General Gates, at Saratoga, on the Hudson, October 1770. § Alluding to the active operations of Lord Cornwallis in Virginia, in 1780, all of which ended, however, in his surrender of his army at York- town, October 1781, while vainly hoping for reinforcements from General Clinton at New York. I. E G6 POEMS AND SONGS. [1784. Then Rockingham took up the game ; Till death did on him ca', man ; When Shelburne meek held up his cheek, Conform to gospel law, man : Saint Stephen's boys, wi' jarring noise, They did his measures thraw, man ; For North an' Fox united stocks, An' bore him to the wa,' man.* Then clubs an' hearts were Charlie's cartes, He swept the stakes awa', man, Till the diamond's ace, of Indian race, Led him a sair faux pas, man :*f* The Saxon lads, wi' loud placads, f On Chatham's boy did ca', man ; An' Scotland drew her pipe an' blew, " Up, Willie, waurS them a', man ! " Behind the throne then Granville's gone, A secret word or twa, man ; While slee Dundas arous'd the class Be-north the Roman wa', man : An' Chatham's wraith, in heav'nly graith, (Inspired bardies saw, man), Wi' kindling eyes, cry'd, " Willie, rise ! Would I hae fear'd them a', man ? " f cheers. e vanquish. * Lord North's administration was succeeded by that of the Marquis of Eockingham, March 1782. At the death of the latter in the succeeding July, Lord Shelburne became prime minister, and Mr Fox resigned his secretaryship. Under his lordship, peace was restored, January 1783. By the union of Lord North and Mr Fox, Lord Shelburne was soon after forced to resign in favour of his rivals, the heads of the celebrated coalition. + Fox's famous India Bill, by which his ministry was brought to destruc- tion, December 1783. m. 26.] POEMS AND SONGS. 67 But, word an' blow, North, Fox, and Co. Gowff'd 11 Willie like a ba', man ; Till Suthron raise, an coost their claise Behind him in a raw, man : An' Caledon threw by the drone, An' did her whittle* draw, man ; An' swoor fu' rude, thro' dirt an' bluid, To mak it guid in law, man.* [With the exception of a very few expressions in the foregoing piece, it does not seem to have attracted popular attention. It was most likely a production of the spring of 1784, although not published in the author's first edition. He applied to the Earl of Glencairn and to Mr Erskine, Dean of Faculty, for their opinion as to the policy of including it in his Edinburgh volume, and they seem to have approved of it. Dr Blair, very characteristically remarked on reading the ballad that "Burns' politics smell of the smithy." This may be true, but the politics of the smithy regarding these matters did ultimately prevail. The explanatory foot-notes we adopt from Chambers.] REPLY TO AN ANNOUNCEMENT BY J. RANKINE, THAT A GIRL IN HIS NEIGHBOURHOOD WAS WITH CHILD TO THE POET. (Stewart, 1801.) I AM a keeper of the law In some sma' points, altho' not a' ; Some people tell me gin I fa', Ae way or ither, The breaking of ae point, tho' sma', Breaks a' thegither. a h struck. * knife. a James ii. 10. * In the new parliament called by Mr Pitt, after his accession to office in the spring of 1784, amiilst the many new members brought in for his sup- port, and that of the king's prerogative, there was an exceeding proportion from Scotland. 68 POEMS AND SONGS. [1784. I hae been in for't ance or twice, And winna say o'er far for thrice ; Yet never met wi' that surprise That broke my rest ; But now a rumour's like to rise — A whaup's b 'i the nest ! [The girl Elizabeth Paton, referred to in Eankine's announcement, had been a servant at Lochlie about the period of the Poet's father's death in Feb. 1784. Thereafter, when the Burnea family removed to Mossgiel, the girl went to her own home at Largieside in Eankine's neighbourhood. In the natural course of events, the poet had soon occasion to write his famous "Epistle" to the same correspondent, on the subject of the preceding verses. That production accordingly now follows as a proper sequel.] EPISTLE TO JOHN RANKINE, ENCLOSING SOME POEMS. (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) rough, rude, ready-witted Rankine, The wale a o' cocks for fun an' drinking ! There's mony godly folks are thinking, Your dreams* and tricks Will send you Korah-like a-sinkin, Straught to auld Nick's. Ye hae sae mony cracks an' cants, And in your wicked, drucken rants, Ye mak a devil o' the saunts, An' fill them fou ; And then their failings, flaws, an' wants, Are a' seen thro'. b Curlew, a bird that will scream. a choice. * A certain humorous dream of his was then making a noise in the country-side. — R. B. ^T- 26.] POEMS AND SONGS. 69 Hypocrisy, in mercy spare it ! That holy robe, O dinna tear it ! Spare't for their sakes, wha aften wear it — The lads in black ; But your curst wit, when it comes near it, Rives't b aff their back. Think, wicked Sinner, wha ye're skai thing c : It's just the ' Blue-gown ' badge an' claithing O' saunts ; tak that, ye lea'e them naetbing To ken them by, Frae ony unregenerate heathen, Like you or I. I've sent you here some rhymin ware, A' that I bargain'd for, an' mair ; Sae, when ye hae an hour to spare, I will expect, Yon sang* ye'll sent, wi' cannie d care, And no neglect. "O" Tho' faith, sma' heart hae I to sing ! My muse dow e scarcely spread her wing ; I've play'd mysel a bonie spring, An' danc'd my fill ! I'd better gaen an' sair't f the king, At Bunker's Hill. 'Twas ae night lately, in my fun, I gaed a rovin wi' the gun, b tears it. c damaging. d considerate. e can. 'served. A song he had promised the author. — Ii. B. 70 POEMS AND SONGS. [1784. An' brought a paitrick to the gran' — A borne hen ; And, as the twilight was begun, Thought nane wad ken. The poor, wee thing was little hurt ; I straiket it a wee for sport, Ne'er thinkin they wad fash S me for't ; But, Deil-ma-care ! Somebody tells the poacher-court, 11 The hale affair. Some auld, us'd hands had taen a note, That sic a hen had got a shot ; I was suspected for the plot ; I scorn'd to lie ; So gat the whissle o' my groat, An' pay't the fee. But, by my gun, o' guns the wale, 1 An' by my pouther an' my hail, An' by my hen, an' by her tail, I vow an' swear ! The game shall pay, owre moor an' dale, For this, niest year. As soon's the clockin-time is by, An' the wee pouts begun to cry, L — d, I'se hae sportin by an' by, For my gowd guinea ; Tho' I should herd the buckskin kye For't, in Virginia ! e bother. h kirk-session. * choice. xi. 26.] POEMS AND SONGS. 7 I Trowth, they had muckle for to blame ! 'Twas neither broken wing nor limb, But twa-three draps about the wame, Scarce thro' the feathers ; An' baith a " yellow George "J to claim An' thole their blethers ! k It pits me ay as mad's a hare ; So I can rhyme nor write nae mair ; But pennyworths again is fair, When time's expedient : Meanwhile I am, respected Sir, Your most obedient. [It would be interesting indeed to know what were the " poems " which the bard transmitted to Rankine along with this epistle, and even to learn what particular song he had craved from his jolly correspondent. Adamhill is in Craigie parish, although lying within two miles west of Lochlie, which was a much inferior farm. The special trick referred to in the second stanza was that of filling a sanctimonious professor miserably drunk, by entertaining him to a jorum of toddy at the farmhouse. The hot-water kettle had, by pre-arrangement, been primed with proof-whisky, so that the more water Rankine's guest added to his toddy for the purpose of diluting it, the more potent the liquor became. Less reprehensible instances of his waggery were his " humorous dreams," which the ready-witted farmer of Adamhill had conveniently at hand to relate whenever he desired to help the progress of his argument, or to administer a rebuke. Baft Rab Hamilton's dreams were only poor imitations of those originally set forth by the poet's witty neighbour of Adamhill.] J a guinea. k stand their abuse. 72 POEMS AND SONGS. [1784. A POET'S WELCOME TO HIS LOVE-BEGOTTEN DAUGHTER, THE FIRST INSTANCE THAT ENTITLED HIM TO THE VENERABLE APPELLATION OF FATHER. (Stewart, 1799, compared with Glenriddell MSS., 1874.) Thou 's welcome, wean ; mishanter a fa' me, If thoughts 1 o' thee, or yet thy mamie, Shall ever daunton b me or awe me, My bonie 2 lady, Or if I blush when thou shalt ca' me Tyta or daddie. Tho' now 3 they ca' me fornicator, An' tease my name in kintry clatter, The mair they talk, I'm kent the better, E'en let them clash ; An auld wife's tongue's a feckless matter To gie ane fash. Welcome ! my bonie, sweet, wee dochter, Tho' ye come here a wee unsought for, And tho' your comin' I hae fought for, 4 Baith kirk and queir ; 5 Yet, by my faith, ye're 6 no unwrought for, That I shall swear ! Wee image o' my bonie Betty, As fatherly I 7 kiss and daut d thee, As dear, and near my heart I set thee, Wi' as gude will As a' the priests had seen me get thee That 's out o' h — 11. mishap. b discourage. c powerless. d fondle. MX. 26.] POEMS AND SONGS. 73 Sweet fruit o' mony a merry dint, My funny toil is now a' tint, Sin' thou cam to the warl' asklent, e Which fools may scoff at ; In my last plack f thy part 's be in 't The better ha'f o ; t. Tho' I should be the waur bestead, Thou's be as braw and bienly£ clad, 8 And thy young years as nicely bred Wi' education, As ony brat 9 o' wedlock's bed, In a' thy station. Lord grant 10 that thou may ay inherit Thy mither's person, grace, an' merit, 11 An' thy poor, worthless daddy's spirit, Without his failins, 'Twill please me mair to see thee heir it, 12 Than stocket malleus. h For 13 if thou be what I wad hae thee, And tak the counsel I shall gie thee, I'll never rue my trouble wi' thee — The cost nor shame o't, But be a loving father to thee, And bras the name o't. 14 ~o [The heading to the above poem is that in the Glenriddell volume preserved in Liverpool ; hut the copy entered there in Burns' auto- graph differs considerably from that first given to the world by Stewart. The verses are differently arranged, and the poem contains two hitherto unpublished stanzas, besides an entire remodelling of the verse which is last in the Glenriddell copy, and the fifth in Stewart. By some inad- vertency, as we suppose, Bums, in transcribing the poem, had omit led sinisterly. ' the smallest coin. 8 warmly. h farms. 74 POEMS AND SONGS. [1784. Stewart's closing verse (the seventh in our text), which is so fine that it cannot be dispensed with. Through the kindness of Dr Carruthers, of Inverness, we have been supplied with a copy of this poem which Burns presented to the aged Wm. Tytler, Esq. of Woodhouselee. It corresponds almost entirely with the Glenriddell version, and contains the stanza wanting there. That and other Burns' MSS., to be hereafter noticed, are in the possession of Mr Tytler's great-grandson, Colonel Fraser-Tytler of Aldourie. The child — born in Nov. 1784 — was tenderly reared and educated at Mossgiel under the care of the poet's mother and sisters. When "Betty Burns" arrived at the age of twenty-one years, she received £200 as a marriage-portion out of a fund that had been subscribed for the widow and children of the bard. She bore a striking resemblance to her father, and became the wife of Mr John Bishop, overseer at Polkemmet, and died in December 1816, at the age of thirty- two. We have heard nothing of her offspring or her descendants. The third and sixth stanzas are those that were brought to light in 1874 from the Glenriddell MSS. The variations in the Tytler copy and in Stewart are as follow : — 1 ought. 2 Sweet wee. 3 What tho'. 4 bought for. 5 And that right dear. 6 'Twas. 7 I, fatherly, will. 8 as elegantly clad. 9 gett. 10 Gude grant. 11 mother's looks and graceful merit. 12 hear and see it. 13 And if thou be. 14 A lovin father I'll be to thee, If thou be spared ; Thro' a' thy childish years I'll e'e thee, And think't weel-wared. The public is now in possession of the complete poem, with the author's last touches.] SONG— O LEAVE NOVELS. (CURRIE, 1801.) LEAVE novels, ye Mauchline belles, Ye're safer at your spinning-wheel ; Such witching books are baited hooks For rakish rooks like Rob Mossgiel ; Your fine Tom Jones and Grandisons, They make your youthful fancies reel ; They heat your brains, and fire your veins, And then you're prey for Rob Mossgiel. *l *r. 2G.] POEMS AND SONGS. / 5 Beware a tongue that's smoothly hung, A heart that warmly seems to feel ; That feeling heart but acts a part — Tis rakish art in Rob Mossgiel. The frank address, the soft caress, Are worse than poisoned darts of steel ; The frank address, and politesse, Are all finesse in Rob Mossgiel. [This song contains excellent advice to the young women of Mauch- line. It would have been well for at least one of those "belles" had she acted on the poet's candid warning ; but, according to the philo- sophy of a reverend biographer of Burns whose observations are commended by Lockhart — "To warn the young and unsuspecting of their danger, is only to stimulate their curiosity." The warning, in that case, were better withheld.] FRAGMENT— THE MAUCHLINE LADY. (Cromek, 1808.) When first I came to Stewart Kyle, My mind it was na steady ; Where'er I gaed, where'er I rade, A mistress still I had ay : But when I came roun' by Mauchline toun, Not dreadin anybody, My heart was caught, before I thought, And by a Mauchline lady. [If the Ejnstle to Davie was composed in January 1785, then it follows that the poet's first rencontre with Jean Armour was in the summer of 1784. The present fragment, in that case, must apply to her. It is a free parody of the old song, "I had a horse, and I had nae mair," to which tune the author directs it to be set. The reader ought to be informed that " Stewart Kyle," is that part of the central district of Ayrshire which lies between the rivers Irvine and Ayr. The poet was originally of "King Kyle," — the district l.'-tween the Ayr and the Doon. He shifted to Stewart Kyle on leaving Mount Oliphant for Lochlie, in 1777.] 76 POEMS AND SONGS. t 1784 ' FRAGMENT— MY GIRL SHE'S AIRY. Tune.—" Black Jock." (Orig. Common-place Book, 1872.) My girl she's airy, she's buxom and gay; Her breath is as sweet as the blossoms in May ; A touch of her lips it ravishes quite : She's always good natur'd, good humor'd, and free ; She dances, she glances, she smiles upon me ; I never am happy when out of her sight. Her slender neck, her handsome waist, Her hair well curled, her stays well lac'd, Her taper white leg with For her ...... And O for the joys of a long winter night. [The above fragment of song the poet records in his Common-place Book, under date September 1784. The editor of the printed copy of that curious MS. has noted that in the original there is some " defect," where the blanks are filled up with asterisks. Had the fragment been recorded a year later, we might safely assume that Jean Armour was the " airy girl " here sketched out.] THE BELLES OF MAUCHLINE. (Currie, 1803.) In Mauchline there dwells six proper young belles, The pride of the place and its neighbourhood a' ; Their carriage and dress, a stranger would guess, In London or Paris, they'd gotten it a.' at. 26.] POEMS AND SONGS. 77 Miss Miller 1 is fine, Miss Markland's 2 divine, Miss Smith 3 she has wit, and Miss Betty 4 is braw : There's beauty and fortune to get wi' Miss Morton, 5 But Armour's 6 the jewel for me o' them a'. [For the sake of the interest involved in whatever interested Burns, the after-history of the " six proper young belles," catalogued by him in this little piece, has been devoutly traced and recorded. Miss Helen Miller^) married Burns' friend, Dr Mackenzie. The "divine" Miss Markland ( 2 ) was married to Mr James Findlay, an officer of excise, first at Tarbolton, afterwards at Greenock. The witty Miss Jean Smith ( 3 ) bestowed herself upon Mr James Candlish, who, like Findlay, was a friend of Burns. The "braw" Miss Betty Miller ( 4 ) became Mrs Templeton ; she was sister of No. 1, and died early in life. Miss Morton ( 5 ) gave her " beauty and fortune " to Mr Paterson, a merchant in Mauchline. Of Armour's history, Immortality has taken charge. The last survivor ( 3 ) died in January 1854; she was mother of the Piev. Dr Candlish of Edinburgh, who was laid beside his parents in Old Calton, at Edinburgh, in October 1873.] EPITAPH ON A NOISY POLEMIC. (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) Below thir stanes lie Jamie's banes ; O Death, it's my opinion, Thou ne'er took such a bleth'rm b-tch Into thy dark dominion ! [The subject of this not very witty versicle, was James Humphrey, a jobbing mason, well-known in Mauchline and Tarbolton for his tendency to talk on matters of church doctrine. He used to hint that the poet had satirized him in revenge for being beaten by Humphrey in an argument. He died in 1844 at the advanced age of 86, an inmate of Fade poor's-house ; and many an alms-offering he earned in con- sequence of Burns' epitaph."] 78 POEMS AND SONGS. [1784. EPITAPH ON A HENPECKED SQUIRE. (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) As father Adam first was fool'd, (A case that's still too common,) Here lies a man a woman ruled The devil ruled the woman. EPIGRAM ON THE SAID OCCASION. O Death, had'st thou but spar'd his life, Whom we this day lament ! We freely wad exchanged the wife, And a' been weel content. Ev'n as he is, cauld in his graff, The swap we yet will do't ; Tak thou the carlin's carcase aff, Thou'se get the saul o' boot. ANOTHER. One Queen Artemisa, as old stories tell, When deprived of her husband she loved so well, In respect for the love and affection he show'd her, She reduc'd him to dust and she drank up the powder. But Queen Netherplace, of a difFrent complexion, When called on to order the fun'ral direction, Would have eat her dead lord, on a slender pretence, Not to show her respect, but — to save the expence ! [The three foregoing epigrams were directed against Mr Campbell of Netherplace and his wife, whose house and grounds the poet daily passed on his way between Mossgiel and Maucldine. After publication in his first edition they were withdrawn.] jet. 26.] POEMS AND SONGS. 71) ON TAM THE CHAPMAN. (Aldine Ed., 1839.) As Tarn the chapman on a day, Wi' Death forgather'd by the way, Weel pleas'd, he greets a wight so famous, And Death was nae less pleas'd wi' Thomas, Wha cheerfully lays down his pack, And there blaws up a hearty crack : His social, friendly, honest heart Sae tickled Death, they could na part ; Sae, after viewing knives and garters, Death taks him hame to gie him quarters. [This was first brought to light by William Cobbett, who printed it in his Magazine. It had been communicated to him by the subject of the epitaph, by name Thomas Kennedy, then an aged person resident in London. He represented himself as having known the poet in very early life, in the neighbourhood of Ayr, where both were born and brought up. Kennedy afterwards became a travelling agent for a mercantile house in a country town near Mauchline, where he renewed accpiaintance with Burns. These lines were composed on Kennedy's recovery from a severe illness. This trifle may have suggested to Burns the idea afterwards worked out in " Death and Dr Hornbook."] EPITAPH ON JOHN RANKINE. (Stewart, 1801.) Ae day, as Death, that gruesome carl, Was driving to the tither warl' A mixtie-maxtie motley squad, And mony a guilt- bespotted lad — Black gowns of each denomination, And thieves of every rank and station, 80 POEMS AND SONGS. [178-4. From him that wears the star and garter, To him that wintles in a halter : Ashamed himself to see the wretches, He mutters, glowrin at the bitches, " By G — d I'll not be seen behint them, Nor 'mang the sp'ritual core present them, Without, at least, ae honest man, To grace this d d infernal clan !" By Adamhill a glance he threw, " L — d God ! " quoth he, " I have it now ; There's just the man I want, i' faith ! " And quickly stoppit Rankine's breath. [This is another in the same vein as the preceding. Cromek has observed that the first idea of the lines seems to have been suggested by Falstaff 's account of his ragged recruits :— " I'll not march through Coventry with them, that's flat ! " The piece would be as much to Eankine's taste, as a similar compliment, some few years thereafter, was relished by Capt. Grose.] LINES ON THE AUTHOR'S DEATH, WRITTEN WITH THE SUPPOSED VIEW OF BEING HANDED TO EANKINE AFTER THE POET'S INTERMENT. (Stewart, 1801.) He who of Rankine sang, lies stiff and dead, And a green grassy hillock hides his head ; Alas ! alas ! a devilish change indeed. [These lines must be regarded as a counterpart to the poet's elegy on himself, composed shortly afterwards, beginning, — " Now Robin lies in his last lair, He'll gabble rhyme and sing nae mair."] **• 2G.] POEMS AND SONGS. 81 MAN WAS MADE TO MOURN.— A DIRGE. (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786). When chill November's surly blast Made fields and forests bare, One ev'ning, as I wander 'd forth Along the banks of Ayr, I spied a man, whose aged step Seem'd weary, worn with care ; His face was furrow'd o'er with years, And hoary was his hair. " Young stranger, whither wand'rest thou ? " Began the rev'rend sage ; " Does thirst of wealth thy step constrain, Or youthful pleasure's rage ? Or haply, prest with cares and woes, Too soon thou hast besran To wander forth, with me to mourn The miseries of man. " The sun that overhangs yon moors, Out-spreading far and wide, Where hundreds labour to support A haughty lordling's pride ; — x 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 uarly years, How prodigal of time ! Mis-spending till thy precious hours — Thy glorious, youthful prime ! I. p 82 POEMS AND SONGS. [17S4. Alternate follies take the sway ; Licentious passions burn ; Which tenfold force gives Nature's law, That man was made to mourn. " Look not alone on youthful prime, Or manhood's active might ; Man then is useful to his kind, Supported is his right : But see him on the edge of life, 2 With cares and sorrows 3 worn ; Then Age and Want — oh ! ill-match 'd pair — - Shew man was made to mourn. " A few seem favourites of fate, In pleasure's 4 lap carest ; Yet, think not all the rich and great Are likewise truly blest : But oh ! what crowds in ev'ry land, All wretched and forlorn, 5 Thro' weary life this lesson learn, That man was made to mourn. " Many and sharp the num'rous ills Inwoven 6 with our frame ! More pointed still we make ourselves, Regret, remorse, and shame And man, whose heav'n-erected face The smiles of love adorn, — Man's inhumanity to man Makes countless thousands mourn ! : See yonder poor, o'erlabour'd wight, So abject, mean, and vile, •et-26.] POEMS AND SONGS. 83 Who begs a brother of the earth To give him leave to toil ; And see his lordly fellow-worm The poor petition spurn, Unmindful, tho' a weeping wife And helpless offspring 7 mourn. " If I'm design'd 8 yon lordling's slave — By Nature's law 9 design'd — Why was an independent wish E'er planted in my mind ? If not, why am I subject to His cruelty, or scorn ? Or why has man the will and pow'r To make his fellow mourn ? " Yet, let not this too much, my son, Disturb thy youthful breast : This partial view of human-kind Is surely not the last ! The poor, oppressed, honest man 10 Had never, sure, 11 been born, Had there not been some recompense To comfort those that mourn ! " O Death ! the poor man's dearest friend, The kindest and the best ! Welcome the hour my aged limbs Are laid with thee at rest ! The great, the wealthy fear thy blow, From pomp 1 ' 2 and pleasure 13 torn ; But, oh ! a blest relief for those That weary-laden mourn ! " [Tliia solemn composition has "chill November" in its intro- ductory line, but the author's record of it in the Common-place 84 POEMS AND SONGS. [17S4. Book is dated " August." That document comes to a sudden close in October 1785, so that we are forced to regard this as a composi- tion of November 1784. He there styles it "A Song," to the tune of "Peggy Bawn." The present generation knows somewhat of a modern song and tune called " Molly Bawn," but few alive ever heard of the air thus referred to, whose querulous notes lent their impulse to the mind of Burns, while he composed those stanzas. A lovely spot called " Haugh," a mile or more below Mauchline, near where the Lugar flows into the river Ayr, is pointed out as the locality indicated by the poet in his opening verse. In one of his letters to Mrs Dunlop, Burns writes : — "I had an old grand-uncle with whom my mother lived in her girlish years; the good old man was long blind ere he died, during which time, his highest enjoyment was to sit down and cry, while my mother would sing the simple old song, ' The Life and Age of Man.' " In Southey's Doctor, we find him thus referring to the present poem, and its connection with the above pathetic incident : — " It is certain that this old song was in Burns's mind when he composed to the same cadence those well-known stanzas of which the burthen is ' Man was made to mourn.' But the old blind man's tears were tears of piety, not of regret ; while lie thus listened and wejjt, his heart was not so much in the past as his hopes were in the future. Burns must have been conscious in his better hours (and he had many such) that he inherited the feeling — if not the sober piety — which is so touchingly exemplified in this family anecdote." The wild cadences which gave effect to the antique words thus sung by the mother of Burns, could be none other than those of the melody of " Peggy Bawn." We are happy to say it is not lost ; for the poet picked up the tune from his mother's singing, and, through Stephen Clarke, communicated it to Johnson who has preserved it in his Museum. That melody we here annex. In slow time. Air — " Peggy Bawn." * i— ! Is E3 =P=! m ■33 -Q_ *=T- When chill No - vem - ber's sur - ly blast Made fields and for- ests bare, m P3= m m p^ One ev' - ning, as I wan - der'd forth A - long the banks of Ayr, I ■ -■ — - ^+" :fc£: I spied a man whose a - ged step seem'd wea - ry, worn with care ^m 3+i LJ J — E S§ His face was fur - row'd o'er with years, And hoa - ry was his hair. Arr. 26.] POEMS AND SOXGS. 85 The chief variations in the Common-place Book, commence at stanza third, which thus points to a locality with which he was very familiar in his early days : — 1 Yon sun that hangs o'er Carrick moors, That spread so far and wide, Where hundreds labour to support The lordly Cassilis' pride. 3 " on the edge of days." 3 labours. 4 fortune's. 5 To wants and sorrows born. 6 Many the ills that Nature's hand Has woven. 7 children. 8 I am doom'd. 9 hand. 10 heart. u surely ne'er. 12 pomps. 13 pleasures. THE TWA HERDS; OR, THE HOLY TULYIE. a AN UNCO MOURNFU' TALE (Stewart and Meikle's Tracts, 1799.) " Blockheads with reason, wicked wits abhor, But fool with fool is barbarous civil war." — Pope. O a' ye pious godly flocks, Weel fed on pastures orthodox, Wha now will keep you frae the fox, Or worrying tykes ? b Or wha will tent the waifs an' crocks, d About the dvkes ? The twa best herds in a' the wast, That e'er ga'e gospel horn a blast These five an' twenty 1 simmers past — Oh, dool to tell ! Hae had a bitter black out-cast Atween themseL O, Moodie, man, an' wordy Russell, How could you raise so vile a bustle ; a fight. b dogs. c stragglers. a old ewce. 86 POEMS AND SONGS. [1784. Ye'll see how " new-light" herds* will whistle, An' think it fine ! The L — 's cause ne'er gat sic a twistle, Sin' I hae min'. O, sirs ! whae'er wad hae expeckit Your duty ye wad sae negleckit, Ye wha were ne'er 2 by lairds respeckit To wear the plaid ; But by the brutes themselves eleckit, To be their guide. fc>' What flock wi' Moodie's flock could rank, Sae hale and hearty every shank, Nae poison'd soor Arminian stank He let them taste ; Frae Calvin's well, ay clear 3 they drank, — O, sic a feast ! The thummart, e willcat, f brock," an' tod, h Weel kend his voice thro' a' the wood, He smell'd their ilka hole an' road, Baith out and in ; An' weel he lik'd to shed their bluid, An' sell their skin. What herd like Kussell tell'd his tale ; His voice was heard thro' muir and dale,t He kenn'd the L — s sheep, ilka tail, Owre a' the height ; An' saw 4 gin they were sick or hale, At the first sight. e foumart, or pole-cat. ' wild-cat. 8 badger. h fox. * See foot-note, p. 125. t Russell's voice could be heard a mile off. XT. 26.] POEMS AND SONGS. 8' He fine a mangy sheep could scrub, Or nobly fling 5 the gospel club, And " new-light" herds could nicely drub, Or pay their skin ; Could shake them o'er the burning dub, Or heave them in. Sic twa — ! do I live to see't, Sic famous twa should disagree't, And names, like " villain," " hypocrite," Ilk ither gi'en, While " new-light" herds, 6 wi' laughin spite, Say neither's lien ! A' ye wha tent the gospel fauld, There's Duncan* deep, an' Peebles-j- shaul', But 7 chiefly thou, apostle Auld,J We trust in thee, That thou wilt work them, hot an' cauld, Till they agree. 8 Consider, sirs, how we're beset ; There's scarce a new herd that we get, But comes frae 'mang that cursed set I winna name ; I hope frae 9 heav'n to see them yet In fiery flame. Dalrymple § has been lang our fae, M'Gill|| has wrought us meikle wae, * Rev. Dr Duncan of DundonaUl. t Rev. Wm. Peebles, Newtonon-Ayr. % Rev. Wm. Auld of Mauchline. § Rev. Dr Dalrymple of Ayr. || Rev. Dr M'Gill, Colleague of Dr Dalrymple. 88 POEMS AND SONGS. [1781. An' that curs'd rascal ca'd M'Quhae* An' baith the Shaws,*f- That aft hae made us black an' blae, Wi' vengefu' paws. Auld WodrowJ lang has hatch'd 10 mischief; We thought ay 11 death wad bring relief, But he has gotten, to our grief, Ane to succeed him,§ A chield wha'll soundly buff our beef ; I meikle dread him. And mony a ane that I could tell, Wha fain would openly rebel, Forby turn-coats amang oursel, There's Smith || for ane ; I doubt he's but a grey nick quill, 1 An' that ye'll fin'. ! a' ye flocks o'er a' the hills, By mosses, meadows, moors, an' fells, Come, join your counsel and your skills To cowe the lairds, An' get the brutes the power themsels To chuse their herds. Then Orthodoxy yet may prance, An' Learning in a woody J dance, 1 soft, unfit for a pen. > gallows. * Minister of St Quivox. t Dr Andrew Shaw of Craigie, and Dr David Shaw of Coylton. $ Dr Peter Woodrow of Tarbolton. § Rev. John M 'Math, a young assistant and successor to Woodrow. || Rev. George Smith of Galston, here and in "The Holy Fair" claimed as friendly to the "newdight" party; but cried down in "The Kirk's Alarm,'* Jet. 20.] POEMS AND SONGS. P9 An' that fell cur ca'd "common-sense,"* That bites sae sair, Be banish'd o'er the sea to France : Let him bark there. 12 Then Shaw's an' D'rymple's eloquence, M 'Gill's close nervous excellence, M'Quhae's pathetic manly sense, An' guid M'Math, Wi' Smith, wha thro' the heart can glance, 13 May a' pack aff. [The author, in alluding to this poem in his autobiography, gives it no title such as that by which it is now distinguished. He calls it " a bur- lesque lamentation on a quarrel between two reverend Calvinists," and tells us that it was the first of his poetic offspring that saw the light. He does not mean the " light of print," but of circulation in manuscript. In our heading we give three titles, taken respectively from various printed copies ; for we are not aware that any holograph copy exists except the one in the British Museum, which calls it " The Holy Tulyie." In regard to its date, we suspect that Chambers, in placing it under April 1785, has no authority beyond a fancied connection between this poem and the epistle to Wm. Simson, of May 1785. The reader has been already prepared, by the author's outburst against clerical hypo- crisy in the Epistle to Raukine, to find him writing shortly thereafter in the same vein. Lockhart tells us — as from personal knowledge — that Burns personaUy witnessed in open court the unseemly contention be- tween the " twa herds," — to wit, the Rev. John Russell of Kilmarnock, and the Rev. Alex. Moodie of Riccarton. If so, the ecclesiastical court records ought to fix the date precisely, if that be deemed a very im- portant matter. Meanwhile, we assume that the affair happened prior to the close of 1784. Taking the copy in Stewart's volume (1801) for our standard, we note the following variations : — 1 fifty. 2 no. 3 Calvin's fountain-head. 4 tell'd. 6 swing. 6 While enemies. 7 And chiefly gird thee, 'postle Auld. 8 To gar them gree. 9 trust in. 10 wrought. u trusted. 12 The poem ends here in the MS. a3 In the Tract, 1799, this line reads, — "Wha through the heart can brawly glance," and thus the compliment to Smith is dispensed with, and turned in favour of M'Math.] 'Common-senae" is claimed as the attribute of the "new-light" party. 90 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. EPISTLE TO DAVIE, A BROTHER POET. JANUARY. (Kilmarnock Ed., 17S6.) While winds frae off Ben-Lomond blaw, An' bar the doors wi' drivin' snaw, An' hing us owre the ingle, I set me down to pass the time, An' spin a verse or twa o' rhyme, In namely, westlin jingle : While frosty winds blaw in the drift, Ben to the chimla lug, a I grudge a wee the great-folk's gift, That live sae bien b an' snug : I tent less, and want less 1 Their roomy fire-side ; But hanker, and canker, To see their cursed pride. It's hardly in a body's pow'r, To keep, at times, frae being sour, To see how things are shar'd ; How best o' chiels are whyles in want, While coofs 02 on countless thousands rant, And ken na how to ware't ; d But Davie, lad, ne'er fash e your head, Tho' we hae little gear ; f We're fit to win our daily bread, As lang's we're hale and fier :S a inwards to the very fireside. b comfortable. c fools. d spend it. e bother. f wealth. e active. XT. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 91 " Mair spier h na, nor fear na," '"" Auld age ne'er mind a feg ; x The last o't, the warst o't, Is only but to beg. To lye in kilns and barns at e'en, When banes are craz'd, and bluid is thin, Is, doubtless, great distress ! Yet then content could make us blest ; Ev'n then, sometimes, we'd snatch a taste Of truest happiness. The honest heart that's free frae a' Intended fraud or guile, However Fortune kick the ba', Has ay some cause to smile ; An' mind still, you'll find still, A comfort this nae sma' ; Nae mair then, we'll care then, Nae farther we can fa'. What tho', like commoners of air, We wander out, we know not where, But either house or hal',J Yet nature's charms, the hills and woods, The sweeping vales, an' foaming floods, Are free alike to all. In days when daisies deck the ground, And blackbirds whistle clear, With honest joy our hearts will bound, To see the coming year : On braes when we please then, We'll sit an' so\vth k a tune ; h enquire. ' fig. I shelter. k hum. * Ramsay. — It. B. i)2 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. Syne rhyme till't, we'll time till't, An' sing't when we hae done. It's no in titles nor in rank ; It's no in wealth like Lon'on bank, To purchase peace and rest : It's no in makin muckle, mair; It's no in books, it's no in lear, 1 To make us truly blest : If happiness hae not her seat An' centre in the breast, We may be wise, or rich, or great, But never can be blest ; Nae treasures nor pleasures Could make us happy lang ; The heart ay's the part ay That makes us right or wrang. Think ye, that sic as you and I, Wha drudge an' drive thro' wet and dry, Wi' never ceasing toil ; Think ye, are we less blest than they, Wha scarcely tent m us in their way, As hardly worth their while ? Alas ! how oft in haughty mood, God's creatures they oppress ! Or else, neglecting a' that's good, They riot in excess ! Baith careless and fearless Of either heaven or hell ; Esteeming, and deeming It a' 3 an idle tale ! 1 learning. m notice. at. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. Do Then let us cheerfu' acquiesce, Nor make our scanty pleasures less, By pining at our state : And, even should misfortunes come, I, here wha sit, hae 4 met wi' some — An's thank fu' for them yet, They gie the wit of age to youth ; They let us ken oursel ; They make 5 us see the naked truth — The real guid and ill : Tho' losses an' crosses Be lessons right severe, There's wit there, ye'll get there, Ye'll find nae other where. But tent me, Davie, ace o' hearts ! (To say aught less wad wrang the cartes, And flatt'ry I detest) This life has joys for you and I ; An' joys that riches ne'er could buy, An' joys the very best. There's a' the pleasures o' the heart, The lover an' the frien' ; Ye hae your Meg, your dearest part, And I my darling Jean ! It warms me, it charms me, To mention but her name : It heats me, it beets me, An' sets me a' on flame ! O all ye Pow'rs who rule above ! O Thou whoso very self art love ! Thou know'st my words sincere ! ■i; 94 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. The life-blood streaming thro' my heart, Or my more dear immortal part, Is not more fondly dear ! When heart-corroding care and grief Deprive my soul of rest, Her dear idea brings relief, And solace to my breast. Thou Being, All-seeing, hear my fervent pray'r; Still take her, and make her Thy most peculiar care ! * All hail ; ye tender feelings dear ! The smile of love, the friendly tear, The sympathetic glow ! Long since, this world's thorny ways Had number'd out my weary days, Had it not been for you ! Fate still has blest me with a friend, In ev'ry care and ill ; And oft a more endearing band — A tie more tender still. It lightens, it brightens The tenebrific scene, To meet with, an' greet with My Davie, or my Jean ! 0, how that Name inspires my style ! The words come skelpin, rank an' file, Amaist before I ken ! The ready measure rins as fine, As Phoebus an' the famous Nine Were glowrin owre my pen. jf.t. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 95 My spavet Pegasus will limp, Till ance he's fairly het ; And then he'll hilch, n and stilt, an' jimp, And rin an unco fit :° But least then the beast then Should rue this hasty ride, I'll light now, and dightP now His sweaty, wizen'd^ hide. [The variations in a MS. of this poem, possessed by Robert Gibson, Esq., Glasgow, are interesting. The date is " January 1785," and it is headed " An Epistle to Davy, a Brother-Poet, Lover, Ploughman, and Fiddler." 1 want less and tent less. 2 fools. 3 It's a'. 4 Yet here I sit hae. 5 let. 6 In all my share o' care an' grief, Which Fate has largely given, My hope, my comfort, an' relief Are thoughts of Her and Heaven. Thou Being, &c. The " Davie " of the poem was David Sillar, one year younger than Burns, and also the son of a small farmer near Tarbolton. He removed to Irvine before the poet published his first edition. Smitten with the spirit of emulation, he also printed a volume of rhyming ware, which appeared in 1789, and Burns, then at Ellisland, helped him to his utmost in procuring subscribers. " Davie " did not make a fortune by the sale of his book ; but he applied himself earnestly to business, first as a grocer, and thereafter as a schoolmaster. Eventually he became a councillor, and latterly a magistrate, of Irvine, and survived till 1830, much respected, and possessed of considerable means. The j:>oem exhibits Burns in the full blossom of attachment to his Jean. It was not the fate of Sillar to obtain the hand of his "Meg" referred to in the Epistle : she was Margaret Orr, a servant at Stair House.]* n hobble. ° run at an uncommon pace. p wipe down . ^ withered. * For further observations regarding the date of this epistle, see note to song, "Tho' cruel fate should bid us part," p. 130, and also foot-note, p. 129. 96 POEMS AND SONGS. ['"S3. HOLY WILLIE'S PRAYER. "And send the godly in a pet to pray."— Pope. (Stewart and Meikle's Tracts, 1799.) Argument. — Holy "Willie was a rather oldish bachelor elder, in the parish of Mauchline, and much and justly famed for that polemical chattering, which ends in tippling orthodoxy, and for that spiritualized bawdry which refines to liquorish devotion. In a sessional process with a gentleman in Mauchline— a Mr Gavin Hamilton — Holy Willie and his priest, Father Auld, after full hearing in the presbytery of Ayr, came off but second best ; owing partly to the oratorical powers of Mr Kobert Aiken, Mr Hamilton's counsel ; but chiefly to Mr Hamilton's being one of the most irreproachable and truly respectable characters in the county. On losing his process, the muse overheard him [Holy Willie] at his devotions, as follows : — Thoit, who in the heavens does 1 dwell, Who, as it pleases best Thysel, Sends ane to heaven an' ten to hell, A' for Thy glory, And no for ony gude or ill They've done afore 2 Thee ! * 1 bless and praise Thy matchless might, When thousands Thou hast left in night, That I am here afore 2 Thy sight, For gifts an' grace A burning and a shining light To a' this place. * It is equally amusing and instructive to note how differently the re- spective biographers of the poet have expressed their sentiments regarding this powerful production. The Rev. Hamilton Paul and the Rev. Hately Waddell, seem to invite the friends of religion to bless the memory of the poet who took such a judicious method of "leading the liberal mind to a rational view of the nature of prayer." Dr Waddell says that the poem '• implies no irreverence whatever on the writer's part ; but on the con- trary, manifests his own profoundest detestation of, and contempt for, every variety of imposture in the name of religion." His brother divine regards the poem as "merely a metrical version of every prayer that is offered up by those who call themselves of the pure reformed church of xr. 27.] POEMS AND SOXGS. 97 What was I, or my generation, That I should get sic exaltation, I wha deserve most 3 just damnation For broken laws, Five 4 thousand years ere 5 my creation, Thro' Adam's cause. When frae my mither's womb I fell, Thou might hae plunged me in hell, To gnash my gums, to weep and wail, In burnin lakes, 6 Where damned devils roar and yell, Chain'd to their stakes. 7 Yet I am here a chosen sample, To show Thy grace is great and ample ; I'm here a pillar o' 8 Thy temple, Strong as a rock, A guide, a buckler, 9 and example, To a' thy flock. O L — d, Thou kens what zeal I bear, When drinkers drink, an' swearers swear, An' singin' there, an' dancin' here, Wi' great and sma' ; For I am keepit by Thy fear Free frae them a'. Scotland." Motherwell, on the other hand, styles it "by far the most reprehensible of Burns' pieces, and one which should never have been written." Cunningham timidly shelters himself behind the words of Sir Walter Scott, by calling it a "too daring poem," and "a piece of satire more exquisitely severe than any which Burns ever afterwards wrote." Chambers describes it as "a satire nominally aimed at Holy Willie, but in reality a burlesque of the extreme doctrinal views of the party to which tint hypocrite belonged." Many will agree with Sir Harris Nicolas in Baying that "the reverend admirers of the poem appear to have com- pounded with their consciences for being pleased with a piece showing little veneration for religion itself, because it ridicules the mistaken zeal of an opposite sect." 1. C 98 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. But yet, L — d ! confess I must, At times I'm fash'd a wi' fleshly lust : An' sometimes, too, in 10 warld/y trust, Vile self gets in ; But Thou remembers we are dust, Defil'd wi' 11 sin. L — d ! yestreen, Thou kens, wi' Meg — Thy pardon I sincerely beg, O ! may 't ne'er be a livin plague To my dishonour, An' I'll ne'er lift a lawless leg Again upon her. Besides, I farther maun allow, Wi' Leezie's lass, three times I trow — But L — d, that Friday I was fou, When I cam near her; Or else, Thou kens, Thy servant true Wad never steer her. 12 Maybe Thou lets this fleshly thorn Buffet 13 Thy servant e'en and morn, Lest he owre proud and high 14 shou'd turn, That 15 he's sae gifted : If sae, Thy han' maun e'en be borne, Until Thou lift it. L — d, bless Thy chosen in this place, For here Thou hast a chosen race : But G — d confound their stubborn face, An' blast their name, Wha bring Thy elders 16 to disgrace An' public shame. a troubled. **■ 2 ~-l POEMS AND SONGS. 09 L — d, mind Gaw'n Hamilton's deserts ; He drinks, an' swears, an' plays at carts, b Yet has sae mony takin arts, Wi' great 17 and sma', Fiae G — d's ain priest 18 the people's hearts He steals awa. An' when we chasten'd him therefor, Thou kens how he bred sic a splore, c An' 19 set the warld in a roar O' laughing at us ; — Curse Thou his basket and his store, Kail an' potatoes. L — d, hear my earnest cry and pray'r, Against that 20 Presbyt'ry o' Ayr ; Thy strong right hand, L — d, make it bare Upo' their heads ; L — d visit them, 21 an' dinna spare, For their misdeeds. O L — d, my G — d ! that glib-tongu'd Aiken, My vera heart and flesh 22 are quakin, To think how we stood sweatin, shakin, An' p — 'd wi' dread, While he, wi' hingin lip an' snakin, d Held up his head. L — d, in Thy day o' 23 vengeance try him, L — d, visit them 24 wha did employ him, And pass not in Thy mercy by them, Nor hear their pray'r, But for Thy people's sake destroy them, An' dinna spare. h cards. c disturbance. d exulting and .sneering. 100 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. But, L — d, remember me an' mine Wi' mercies temporal an' divine, That I for grace an' gear 25 may shine, Excell'd by nane, And a' The glory shall be thine. Amen, Amen ! [The " Argument," or introduction, now for the first time printed at the head of this poem, is from the bard's own pen. It is prefixed to the copy inserted in the Glenriddell volume at Liverpool. This enables us with some certainty to decide that the early part of the year 1785 (instead of July of that year, according to Chambers) was the date of the composi- tion. The " sessional process " referred to really commenced in August 1784, just before the annual celebration of the communion at Mauch- line, when the name of Gavin Hamilton, friend and landlord of the poet, was included in a list of members who were threatened to be debarred from the communion table for "habitual neglect of church ordinances." Hamilton, believing that he himself was the party chiefly aimed at, addressed an angry letter to the kirk session, telling them that they had no just grounds of offence against him, and that they must be conscious of proceeding purely on " private pique and ill- nature." Hamilton finding the kirk session obstinate, and inclined to treat him still more offensively, appealed to the presbytery of Ayr for protection, and in January 1785, he obtained a decree of that court ordering the erasing of the session minutes complained of. It was at this stage— as we apprehend — that the muse of Burns " overheard Holy Willie at his devotions ;" but that personage did not content himself with " prayers " merely, for Auld and his confederates refused to obey the presbyterial order, and made appeal to the Synod. The process there did not close till July 1 785, when the affair was compromised by Hamilton's acceptance of a certificate from his kirk session granting him to be " free from all ground of church censure." In the complete " Prayer " there are seventeen stanzas, the sixth of which is rarely found in the later manuscripts ; perhaps because Burns felt it to be rather a weak verse, and excluded it in transcribing. It is not in Stewart and Meikle's Tracts, 1799, nor in Stewart's volume, 1801 ; but it appears in his second edition, 1802. It is amusing to notice how the various editors have dealt with the text. The Rev. Hamilton Paul fives it pure and uncastrated, excluding only the sixth verse, of the existence of which he might not be aware. Cunningham omits verses sixth and eighth, and corrupts the fifteenth. Motherwell gives all the seventeen verses, but his fifteenth stanza is the " Dumfries version," of which we shall presently speak. Chambers omits the sixth, eighth, jet. 27.] TOEMS AND SOXGS. 101 and ninth verses, besides repeating Cunningham's corruption of verse fifteenth. The Glenriddell MS. adopts what we have termed the "Dura fries version" of the fifteenth stanza. The poet's friends in that county stumbled at the word " snakin," which, in the text has a meaning the very opposite of the English word sneaking. To please them, he altered the structure and effect of the stanza, so that the word objected to has the ordinary meaning of the word "sneaking," but only pronounced as an Irishman might — " snakin\" The following is the altered stanza, and the reader may decide for himself whether it or the Ayrshire ver- sion is the better one : — "OL — d, my G— d, that glib-tongued Aiken ! My very heart and flesh are quaking, To think how I sat sweating, shaking, And p — ss'd wi' dread, While Auld, wi' hinging lip, gaed sneaking, And hid his head ! " A very fine Dumfries MS. of this poem, possessed by Alex. Young, Esq., Glasgow, has been made use of to enrich our text with some beautiful variations. From Stewart's version and other MS., we note the following changes. Be it remarked, however, that the motto from Pope is found only in Dumfries copies. The same observation applies to the motto prefixed to the Twa Herds. 1 Thou that in the heavens does dwell. 2 before. 3 sic. 4 Sax. 5 'fore. 6 lake. " a stake. 8 in. 9 ruler. 10 wi'. " in. 12 ne'er hae steer'd her. 13 Beset. 14 high and proud. 15 'Cause. 16 rulers. 17 grit. 18 priests. 1! ' As. 20 the. 21 weigh it down. 22 sauL 23 the day of. 24 him- 25 gear and grace.] EPITAPH ON HOLY WILLIE. (Stewart, 1801.) Here Holy Willie's sair worn clay Taks up its last abode ; His saul has ta'en some other way, I fear, the left-hand road. Stop ! there he is, as sure's a gun, Poor, silly body, see him ; Nae wonder he's as black's the grim, Observe wha's standing wi' him. 102 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. Your brun*tane devilship, I see Has got him there before ye ; But haud your nine-tail cat a wee, Till ance you've heard my story. Your pity I will not implore, For pity ye have nane ; Justice, alas ! has gi'en him o'er, And mercy's day is gane. But hear me, Sir, deil as ye are, Look something to your credit ; A coof like him wad stain your name, If it were kent ye did it. [This "Epitaph" is a poor performance, compared with the main poem ; and the author would seem to have been sensible of this when he refrained from transcribing it into the Glenriddell volume along with the " Prayer." It was not published -till two years after the latter made its first appearance, and we are not aware that it now exists in the poet's autograph. The name of the hero of these biting satires was AVilliam Fisher, a leading elder in the parish church of Mauchline. Its kirk-session, in 1785, consisted of three active members — Rev. William Auld, Mr John Sillars, and " Holy Willie." In cases of discipline, the reverend incumbent, as moderator, first expressed his opinion, and fore- shadowed judgment : William Fisher would obsequiously second the minister in the words, "I say wi' you, Mr Auld — what say, you, Mr Sillars?" The latter might either agree or dissent, for it made no difference, he being a hopeless minority in a court like that. Such is the account of " Daddie Auld's " session given by Dr Waddell, on the authority of local rerniniscences gleaned by him in the district. Burns, in a poem produced in 1789, refers to his ancient foe, William Fisher, in these words : — "Holy Will, holy Will, there was wit in your skull, When ye pilfer 'd the alms of the poor." It appears that the sins of the hoary hypocrite rapidly found him out. The date of his death we have not ascertained, but his exit was quite in character ; for he died in a ditch by the road-side, into which he had fallen on his way home from a debauch. Father Auld and he repose in Mauchline kirkyard, almost side by side, the inscription on the minister's tablet recording that he died on 12th December 1791, in his 81st year.] «r. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS- 103 DEATH AND DOCTOR HORNBOOK, A TRUE STORY. (Edinburgh Editions, 1787-1794.) Some books are lies frae end to end, And some great lies were never penn'd : Ev'n ministers they hae been kenn'd, In holy rapture, A rousing whid a at times to vend, 1 And nail't wi' Scripture. But this that I am gaun to tell, Which lately on a night befel, Is just as true's the Deil's in hell Or Dublin city : That e'er he nearer comes oursel 'S a muckle pity. The clachan yill b had made me canty, I was na fou, but just had plenty ; I stacher'd whyles, c but yet took tent ay To free the ditches ; An' hillocks, stanes, an' bushes, keun'd ay Frae ghaists an' witches. The rising moon began to glowre The distant Cumnock hills out-owre : To count her horns,* wi' a' my pow'r, I set mysel ; But whether she had three or four, I cou'd na tell. a fib. b village ale. c staggered at times. * Cumnock hills lie south-east from TarLolton ; and hence, it is argued by Dr Wadded, the moon could not be seen in crescent from the poet's stand- point. The learned critic has forgot the " clachan yill." 104 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. I was come round about the hill, An' todlin down on Willie's mill, Setting my staff wi' a' my skill, To keep me sicker ; d Tho' leeward whyles, e against my will, I took a bicker. I there wi' Something did 2 forgather, That pat me in an eerie swither ; f An' awfu' scythe, out-owre ae shouther, Clear-dangling, hang ; A three-tae'd leister S on the ither Lay, large an' lang. Its stature seem'd lang Scotch ells twa, The queerest shape that e'er I saw, For fient a wame b it had ava ; And then its shanks, They were as thin, as sharp an' sma' As cheeks o' branks. 1 ' Guid-een,' quo' I ; ' Friend ! hae ye been mawin, 'When ither folk are busy sawin !'* It seem'd to mak a kind o' stan,' But naething spak ; At length, says I, ' Friend ! whare ye gaun ? ' Will ye go back V It spak right howe,i — ' My name is Death, 'But be na' fley'd.' k — Quoth I, ' Guid faith, d secure. e at times. f timid hesitation. R fish-spear. h belly. Wooden bridle. J hollow. k afraid. This rencontre happened in seed-time, 1785. — E. B. jet. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 105 ' Yo're may be come to stap my breath ; ' But tent me, billie ; ' I red 1 ye weel, tak care o' skaith/ 11 ' See, there's a gully ! ' n ' Gudeman,' quo' he, 'put up your whittle, ' I'm no design'd to try its mettle ; ' But if I did, I wad be kittle P ' To be mislear'd ;1 ' I wad na mind it, no that spittle ' Out-owre my beard.' r ' Weel, weel !' says J, ' a bargain be't ; ' Come, gies your hand, an' sae we're gree't ; ' We'll ease our shanks an' tak a seat — ' Come, gies your news ; ' This while ye hae been mony a gate, 'At mony a house.'* ' Ay, ay !' quo' he, an' shook his head, ' It's e'en a lang, lang time indeed ' Sin' I began to nick the thread, ' An' choke the breath : ' Folk maun do something for their bread, ' An' sae maun Death. ' Sax thousand years are near-hand fled ' Sin' I was to the hutching bred, 'advise. m harm. n clasp-knife. "knife. I'itchingly apt. 'unmannerly. r chin. An epidemical fever was then raging in that country. — S. B. 106 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. ' An' mony a scheme in vain's been laid, ' To stap or scar me ; 'Till ane Hornbook's* ta'en up the trade, * And faith ! he'll waur me. ' Ye ken Jock Hornbook i' the Clachan 8 — ' Deil mak his king's-hood in a spleuchan !* — 1 He's grown sae weel acquaint wi' Buchan f 'And ither chaps, ' The weans haud out their fingers laughin, 'An' pouk u my hips. ' See, here's a scythe, an' there's a dart, ' They hae pierc'd mony a gallant heart ; ' But Doctor Hornbook wi' his art ' An' cursed skill, ' Has made them baith no worth a f — t, ' D — n'd haet they'll kill ! ''Twas but yestreen, nae farther gane, ' I threw a noble throw at ane ; ' Wi' less, I'm sure, I've hundreds slain ; ' But deil-ma-care, ' It just play'd dirl on the bane, ' But did nae mair. ' Hornbook was by, wi' ready art, ' An' had sae fortify 'd the part, 8 village. l purse or pouch. n pull. * This gentleman, Dr Hornbook, is professionally a brother of the sove- reign order of the ferula ; but, by intuition and inspiration, is at once an apothecary, surgeon, and physician. — B. B. t Buchan's Domestic Medicine. — R. B. Dr. Wm. Buchan died in 1803. xt. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 107 ' That when I looked to my dart, ' It was sae blunt, ' Fient haet o't wad hae pierc'd the heart ' Of a kail-runt. v ' I drew my scythe in sic a fury, ' I near-hand cowpit w wi' my hurry, ' But yet the bauld Apothecary ' Withstood the shock ; • I might as weel hae try'd a quarry ' O' hard whin rock. ' Ev'n them he canna get attended, ' Altho' their face he ne'er had kend it, ' Just in a kail-blade, an' send it, ' As soon's he smells 't, ' Baith their disease, and what will mend it, 'At once he tells 't. 'And then a' doctor's saws an' whittles, ' Of a' dimensions, shapes, an' mettles, ' A' kinds o' boxes, mugs, an' bottles, ' He's sure to hae ; ' Their Latin names as fast he rattles ' As A B C. 'Calces o' fossils, earths, and trees; ' True sal-marinum o' the seas ; ' The farina of beans an' pease, 'He has't in plenty; ' Aqua-fontis, what you please, ' He can content ye. T caLbage-stalk. w overbalanced. 108 POEMS AND SOXGS. [1~S5. ' Forbye some new, uncommon weapons, ' Urinus spiritus of capons ; ' Or mite-horn shavings, filings, scrapings, Distill'd per se ; ' Sal-alkali o' midge-tail-clippings, ' And mony mae.' ' Waes me for Johnie Ged's * Hole now,' Quoth I, ' if that thae news be true ! ' His braw calf-ward x whare gowans^ grew, ' Sae white and bonie, ' Nae doubt they'll rive it wi' the plew ; 'They'll ruin Johnie !' The creature grain'd an eldritch 2 laugh, And says, ' Ye needna yoke the pleugh, ' Kirkyards will soon be till'd eneugh, ' Tak ye nae fear : 'They'll a' be trench'd wi mony a sheugh, a ' In twa-three year. ' Whare I kill'd ane, a fair strae death, b ' By loss o' blood or want of breath, ' This night I'm free to tak my aith, * That Hornbook's skill ' Has clad a score i' their last claith, ' By drap an' pill. ' An honest wabster to his trade, ' Wbase wife's twa nieves were scarce weel-bred, x grazing plot. y daisies. z ghastly. a furrow. b death-bed exit. The grave-digger. — R. B. «t-27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 109 ' Gat tippence-worth to mend her head, When it was sair ; 'The wife slade cannie to her bed, ' But ne'er spak mair. ' A country laird had ta'en the batts, ' Or some curmurrinff in his eruts, ' His only son for Hornbook sets, ' An' pays him well : ' The lad, for twa guid gimmer-pets, c ' Was laird himsel. ' A bonie lass — ye kend her name — ■ ' Some ill-brewn drink had hov'd her wamc ; 'She trusts hersel, to hide the shame, ' In Hornbook's care ; ' Horn sent her aff to her lang hame, ' To hide it there. ' That's just a swatch d o' Hornbook's way ; ' Thus goes he on from day to day, ' Thus does he poison, kill, an' slay, ' An's weel paid for't ; ' Yet stops me o' my lawfu' prey, ' Wi' his d— n'd dirt : ' But, hark ! I'll tell you of a plot, ' Tho' dinna ye be speakin o't ; ' I'll nail the self- conceited sot, ' As dead's a herrin ; ' Niest time wo meet, I'll wad a groat, ' lie gets his fairin !' •young ewes. d sample. 110 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. But just as he began to tell, The auld kirk-hammer strak the bell Some wee short hour ayont the twal, Which rais'd us baith : I took the way that pleas'd mysel, And sae did Death. [The author himself has fixed the date of this poem, which, like Tam-o'-Shauter, was struck off almost comjdete at one heat ; for Gil- bert has told us that his brother repeated the stanzas to him on the day following the night of the tiff with Wilson at the mason lodge. John Wilson, parish schoolmaster at Tarbolton, had also a small grocery shop where he sold common drugs, and gave occasional medical advice in simple cases, and thus became a person of some importance in the village. Accord- ing to Mr Lockhart he was not merely compelled, through the force and widely-spread popularity of this attractive satire, to close his shop, but to abandon his school-craft also, in consequence of his pupils, one by one, deserting him. " Hornbook " removed to Glasgow, and by dint of his talents and assiduity, at length obtained the respectable situation of session-clerk of Gorbals parish. He died January 13, 1839. Many a time in his latter days he has been heard, " over a bowl of punch, to bless the lucky hour when the dominie of Tarbolton provoked the casti- gation of Robert Burns." In the author's earlier editions the word did 2 in verse sixth, ungram- matically reads "does;" and line fifth of the opening stanza reads thus : — " Great lies and nonsense baith to vend."] EPISTLE TO J. LAPRAIK, AN OLD SCOTTISH BARD.— APRIL 1, 1785. (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) While briers an' woodbines budding green, An' paitricks scraichin loud at e'en, An' morning poussie whiddin a seen, Inspire my muse, This freedom, in an unknown frien', I pray excuse. a a hare in quick motion. XT. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 1 1 On Fasten-e'en b we had a rockin, c To ca' the crack d and weave our stock in ; And there was muckle fun and jokin, Ye need na doubt; At length we had a hearty yokin, e At ' sang about.' There was ae sang, amang the rest, Aboon them a' it pleas'd me best, That some kind husband had addrest To some sweet wife ; It thirl'd f the heart-strings thro' 1 the breast, A' to the life. I've scarce heard ought describ'd 2 sae weel, What gen'rous, manly bosoms feel ; 3 Thought I, " can this be Pope, or Steele, Or Beattie's wark ? " They tauld me 'twas an odd kind chiel About Muirkirk. It pat me 4 fidgin-fainS to heart, An' sae about him there 5 I spier't ; n Then a' that kent him round declar'd He had ingine ; * That nane excell'd it, few cam near't, It was sae fine : 6 That, set him to a pint of ale, An' either douce J or merry tale, "° the night before Lent, "gathering. d chat. e set-to. 'thrilled. b excitedly eager. L asked. • genius. J grave. 112 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785» Or rhymes an' sangs he'd made himsel, Or witty catches — 'Tween Inverness an' Teviotdale, He had few matches. Then up I gat, an' swoor an aith, Tho' I should pawn my pleugh an' graith, k Or die a cadger 1 pownie's death, At some dyke-back, A pint an' gill I'd gie them baith, To hear your crack.™ But, first an' foremost, I should tell, Amaist as soon as I could spell, I to the crambo-jingle 11 fell ; 7 Tho' rude an' rough — Yet 8 crooning to a body's sel, 9 Does weel eneusfh. o I am nae poet, in a sense ; But just a rhymer like by chance. An' hae to learning nae pretence ; Yet, what the matter ? Whene'er my muse does on me glance, I jingle at her. Your critic-folk may cock their nose, And say, " how can you e'er propose, You wha ken hardly verse frae 10 prose, To mak a sang ? " But, by your leave, my learned foes, Ye're rnaybe wrang. k harness, 'hawker. tt chat. n rhyming syllables. ° humming. «r. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 113 What's a' your jargon o' your schools — Your Latin names for horns an' stools ? If honest Nature made you fools, What sairsP your grammars ? Ye'd better taen up spades and shools, Or knappin-hammers. A set o' dull, conceited hashes 11 Confuse their brains in college-classes They gang in stirks,l and come out asses, Plain truth 12 to speak; An' syne 13 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 At pleugh or cart, My muse, tho' hamely in attire, May touch the heart. O for a spunk o' Allan's 1 " glee, Or Fergusson's, the bauld an' slee, Or bright 14 Lapraik's, my friend to be, If I can hit it ! That would be lear 8 eneusih for me, If I could get it. Now, sir, if ye hae friends enow, Tho' real friends I b'lieve are few ; Yet, if your catalogue be fu', I'se no insist : But, gif ye want ae friend that's true, I'm on your list. P serves. ( i young bullocks. * Allan liamsay's. 6 learning. H 114 POEMS AND SONGS. [1"S5. I winna blaw about mysel, As ill I like my fauts to tell ; But friends, an' folk that wish me well, They sometimes roose * me ; Tho' I maun own, as mony still As far abuse me. There's ae wee faut they whiles lay to me, I like the lasses — Gude forgie me ! For mony a plack u they wheedle v frae me At dance or fair ; Maybe some ither thing they gie me, They weel can spare. But Mauchline Kace* or Mauchline Fair, I should be proud to meet you there : We'se gie ae night's discharge to care, If we forgather ; An hae a swap w o' rhymin-ware Wi' ane anither. The four-gill chap, we'se gar him clatter, An' kirsen x him wi' reekin water ; Syne we'll sit down an' tak our whitter/ To cheer our heart ; An' faith, we'se be acquainted better Before we part. Awa ye selfish, warly race, Wha think that havins, z sense, an' grace, * encourage. "coin. v coax. w an exchange. x baptise. y refreshment. z manners. * The race-course at Mauchline was on the high road near the poet's farm. 4 to 4 ill ^ *-£ ^ * 4 ■4 <5 % T * V "-r , Burns was the leading member of a bachelor's club of a very < nld character which held stated meetings at the "Whitefoord Arms." It was a kind of secret association, the professed object of which was to search out, report, and discuss the merits and demerits of the many scandals that cropped up from time to time in the village. The poet was made perpetual president ; John Richmond, a clerk with Gavin Hamilton, writer, was appointed " Clerk of Court" — for they dignified the mock solemnity of their meetings by adopting judicial styles and forms ; — James Smith, a draper in the village, was named " pro- curator fiscal," and to William Hunter, shoemaker — "weel skill'd in dead and living leather"- — was assigned the office of "messenger-at-arms." Having premised thus much concerning this club of rare fellows, sonic of its effects on Burns' musings we shall now proceed to give.] EPITAPH FOR JAMES SMITH. (Stewart, 1801.) Lament him, Mauehline husbands a', He aften did assist ye ; For had ye staid hale weeks awn, your wives they ne'er had miss'd ye. 164 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. Ye Mauchliue bairns, as on ye press To school in bands thegither, O tread ye lightly on his grass, — Perhaps he was your father ! [In the above lampoon upon "fiscal Smith," and libel on the matrons of Mauchline, we see the nature of the " cases " that were usually brought before the solemn " Court " assembled in the "Whitefoord Arms. The poet, in his fine " Epistle to J. S.," describes his friend as of " scrimpet stature," but of manly configuration and character.] ADAM ARMOUR'S PRAYER. (Hogg and Motherwell's Ed., 1834.) Gude pity me, because I'm little I For though I am an elf o' mettle, An' can, like ony wabster's a shuttle, Jink there or here, Yet, scarce as lang's a gude kail-whittle, b » I'm unco c queer. An' now Thou kens our woefu' case ; For Geordie's " jurr " d we're in disgrace, Because we " stang'd "* her through the place, An' hurt her spleuchan ; e For whilk we daurna show our face Within the clachan. f a weaver's. b cabbage-knife. c uncommon. d a journeyman, or journeywoman. e a purse of animal's skin. 1 village. * "Riding the stang" was a kind of lynch law, executed against obnoxious persons, by carrying them shoulder-high through the village astride a rantle-tree. jn\ 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 1 Go An now we're derndS in dens and hollows, And hunted, as was William Wallace, ' Wi' constables — thae blackguard fallows, An' sodgers baith ; But Gude preserve us frae the gallows, That shaniefu' death ! Auld grim black-bearded Geordie's sel' — shake him owre the mouth o' hell ! There let him hing, an' roar, an' yell Wi' hideous din, And if he offers to rebel, Then heave him in. When Death comes in wi' glimmerin blink, An' tips auld drucken Nanse* the wink, May Sautan gie her doup a clink Within his yett, An' fill her up wi' brimstone drink, Red-reekin het. Though Jock an' hav'rel n Jeanf are merry — Some devil seize them in a hurry, An' waft them in th' infernal wherry Straught through the lake, An' gie their hides a noble curry Wi' oil of aik !» As for the " jurr " — puir worthless body ! She's got mischief enough already ; b concealed. b silly. ' an oaken stick. Geordie'fi wife. + Geordie's son and daughter. 1G6 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. Wi' stanget hips, and buttocks bluidy, She's suffer'd sair ; But, may she wintle in a woody, 3 If she wh — e mair ! [This very free production was first printed in the Edinburgh Magazine of January 1808. Although the poem may not be entitled to rank with the author's higher efforts in the same style, yet few readers will be inclined to dispute that it fairly establishes its own paternity. It is certainly one of a group of hasty comic effusions dashed off by Burns at this period in connection with the Whitefoord Arms conventions already spoken of. The parents of Jean Armour lived at the back of the Inn ; but her namesake who is the subject of the present poem was in no way related to her. The " Geordie " of the piece was another Mauchline innkeeper, whose "jurr," or female servant, had committed some sexual error that caused a kind of " hue and cry " against her among the neighbours. Thus encouraged, a band of reckless young fellows, with Adam Armour for a ringleader, " rade the stang" upon the poor sinner. Geordie, who sympathised with his "jurr," resented this lawless outrage, and got criminal proceed- ings raised against the perpetrators. Adam Armour, who was an ill- made little fellow of some determination, had to abscond, and during his wanderings he happened to fall in with Burns, who after com- miserating the little outlaw, conceived the "Prayer" here put into his lips.] THE COURT OF EQUITY. (Unpublished Poem.) [About this period should be introduced (had it been presentable) a remarkable production generally known under a coarser title, of which one or more autograph copies are preserved in the British Museum. These are catalogued as " Two Humorous Citations or Summonses to some of his Friends upon the Affairs of Love," &c, dated " Mauchline, 12th May 1786." Various copies of that curious effusion of Burns shew different dates. We have, at page 163, described the nature of the club, out of whose proceedings the production emanated. John Richmond, named in the body of the poem as "Clerk of Court," left Mauchline to reside in Edinburgh about Martinmas 1785 ; so we must infer that the com- position now referred to existed prior to that date. The name of John Richmond is also identified with the history of the famous piece we next present] J spin round on the gallows. .*:t. O" • ] POEMS AND SONGS. 107 THE JOLLY BEGGARS.— A CANTATA. (Stewart and Meikle's Tracts, 1799.) Recitativo. When lyart a leaves bestrow the yird, b Or wavering like the bauckie-bird,* Bedim cauld Boreas', blast ; When hailstanes drive wi' bitter skyte, c And infant frosts begin to bite, In hoary cranreuch d drest ; Ae night at e'en a merry core O' randie, e gangrel f bodies, In Poosie-Nansie's held the splore," To drink their orra duddies : h Wi' quaffing and laughing, They ranted an' they sang, Wi' jumping an' thumping, The vera girdle 1 rang. First, niest the fire, in auld red rags, Ane sat, weel brac'd wi' mealy bags, And knapsack a' in order ; His doxy lay within his arm ; Wi' usquebaeJ an' blankets warm She blinket on her sodger : An' ay he gies the tozie k drab The tither skelpin 1 kiss, withered. b ground. ° slanting stroke. d crisp-rime. e regardless. * vagrant. R spree. h superfluous rags. ' circular plate of iron for baking. I whisky. k muddled. 'noisy. * The old Scotch name for the Bat.—/.'. B. 1G8 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. While she held up her greedy gab, Just like an aumous dish : "" Ilk smack still did crack still, Just like a cadger's™ whip ; Then staggering an' swaggering, He roar'd this ditty up — Air. Tune.—" Soldier's Joy." I am a son of Mars who have been in many wars, And show my cuts and scars wherever I come ; This here was for a wench, and that other in a trench, When welcoming the French at the sound of the drum. Lai de daudle, &c. My prenticeship I past where my leader breath'd his last, When the bloody die was cast on the heights of Abram : f And I served out my trade when the gallant game was play'd, And the MoroJ low was laid at the sound of the drum. I lastly was with Curtis among the floating batt'ries,§ And there I left for witness an arm and a limb ; Yet let my country need me, with Elliot || to head me, I'd clatter on my stumps at the sound of a drum. m a travelling hawker, whose wares were carried by a donkey and creels. * The poet has the irreverence to compare her mouth to a beggar's alms-dish. t The battle-ground in front of Quebec, where Wolfe victoriously fell in September 1759. J El Moro was the castle that defended the harbour of St Iago. § At the siege of Gibraltar in 1762. || G. A. Elliot (Lord Heathfield), who defended Gibraltar during three years. -*t. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 1 09 And now tho' I must beg, with a wooden arm and leg, And many a tatter d rag hanging over my bum, I'm as happy with my wallet, my bottle and my callet, 11 As when I used in scarlet to follow a drum. What tho', with hoary locks, I must stand the winter shocks, Beneath the woods and rocks, oftentimes for a home, When the tother bag I sell, and the tother bottle tell, I could meet a troop of hell, at the sound of a drum. Recitativo. He ended ; and the kebars sheuk, Aboon the chorus roar ; While frighted rattonsP backward leuk, An' seek the benmost bore :<1 A fairy fiddler frae the neuk, r He skirl'd out, encore ! But up arose the martial chuck, An' laid the loud uproar. Air. Tune. — " Sodger Laddie." I once was a maid, tho' I cannot tell when, And still my delight is in proper young men: Some one of a troop of dragoons was my daddie, No wonder I'm fond of a sodger laddie. Sing, lal do dal, &c. The first of my loves was a swaggering blade, To rattle the thundering drum was his trade ; His Leg was so tight, and his check was so ruddy, Transported T was with my sodger laddie. '■trull. "rafters. Prats. i innermost hole. 'corner. 170 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. But the godly old chaplain left him in the lurch ; The sword I forsook for the sake of the church : He ventur'd the soul, and I risket the body, 'Twas theu I prov'd false to my sodger laddie. Full soon I grew sick of my sanctified sot, The regiment at large for a husband I got ; From the gilded spontoon to the fife I was ready, I asked no more but a sodger laddie. o But the peace it reduc'd me to beg in despair, Till I met my old boy in a Cunningham fair ; His rags regimental they flutter'd so gaudy, My heart it rejoic'd at a sodger laddie. And now I have liv'd — I know not how long, And still I can join in a cup and a song ; But whilst with both hands I can hold the glass steady, Here's to thee, my hero, my sodger laddie. Recitativo. [Poor Merry- Andrew, in the neuk, Sat guzzling wi' a tinkler-hizzie ; s They mind't na wha the chorus teuk, Between themselves they were sae busy : At length, wi' drink an' courting dizzy, He stoiter'd up an' made a face ; Then turn'd, an' laid a smack* on Grizzie, Syne tun'd his pipes wi' grave grimace. Air. Tune—' 1 Auld Sir Symon." Sir Wisdom's a fool when he's fou ; Sir Knave is a fool in a session ; u 1 slut. l kiss. u when tried criminally. sst. 27]. POEMS AND SONGS. 171 He's there but a prentice I trow, But I am a fool by profession. My grannie she bought me a beuk, An' I held awa to the school ; I fear I my talent misteuk, But what will ye hae of a fool ? For drink I would venture my neck ; A hizzieV the half of my craft ; But what could ye other expect, Of ane that's avowedly daft ? I ance was tyed up like a stirk, w For civilly swearing and quaffing ; I ance was abus'd i' the kirk, For towsing x a lass i' my daffin.? Poor Andrew that tumbles for sport, Let naebody name wi' a jeer ; There's even, I'm tauld, i' the Court A tumbler ca'd the Premier. Observ'd ye yon reverend lad Mak faces to tickle the mob ; He rails at our mountebank squad, — It's rivalship just i' the job. And now my conclusion I'll tell, For faith I'm confoundedly dry ; The chiel that's a fool for himsel, Guid L — d ! he's far dafter than I.] % loose woman. w bullock: this means the punishment of the "Jougs," rui iron collai i ■ round a culprit's neck in :i public thoroughfare, "rumpling. >fun. 72 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. Mecitativo. Then niest outspak a raucle carlin, z Wha kent fu' weel to cleek a the sterliu ; For mony a pursie she had hooked, An' had in mony a well been douked : Her love had been a Highland laddie, But weary fa' the waefu' woodie ; b Wi' sighs an' sobs she thus began To wail her braw John Highlandman. Air. Time — " an ye were dead, Guidman." A Highland lad my love was born, The lalland laws he held in scorn ; But he still was faithfu' to his clan, My gallant, braw John Highlandman. Chorus. Sing hey my braw John Highlandman ! Sing ho my braw John Highlandman ! There's not a lad in a' the Ian' Was match for my John Highlandman. With his philibeg an' tartan plaid, An' guid claymore d down by his side, The ladies' hearts he did trepan, My gallant, braw John Highlandman. Sing hey, &c. We ranged a' from Tweed to Spey, An' liv'd like lords an' ladies gay ; For a lalland face he feared none, — My gallant, braw John Highlandman. Sing hey, &c, z a tough old woman. a steal with crooked linger. b gallows, c kilt. d broadsword. an- 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. J 73 They banish'd him beyond the sea, But ere the bud was on the tree, Adown my cheeks the pearls ran, Embracing my John Highlandman. Sing hey, &c. But, och ! they catch'd him at the last, And bound him in a dungeon fast : My curse upon them every one, They've hang'd my braw John Highlandman ! Sing hey &c. And now a widow I must mourn The pleasures that will ne'er return ; No comfort but a hearty can, When I think on John Highlandman. Sing hey &c. Mecilativo. A pigmy scraper wi' his fiddle, Wha us'd at trystes an' fairs to driddle, e Her strappin f limb and gausyS middle (He reach'd nae higher) Had hol'd his heartie like a riddle, An' blawn't on fire. Wi' hand on hainch, and upward e'e, He croon 'd his gamut, one, two, three, Then in an arioso key, The wee Apollo Set. off wi' allegretto glee His giga solo. •perform. 'powerful. " buxom. 174 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. Air. Tune—" Whistle owre the lave o't." Let me ryke n up to dight 1 that tear, An' go wi' me an' be my dear ; An' then your every care an' fear May whistle owre the laveJ o't. Chorus. I am a fiddler to my trade, An' a' the tunes that e'er I play'd, The sweetest still to wife or maid, Was whistle owre the lave o't. At kirns an' weddins we'se be there, An' sae nicely's we will fare ! We'll bowse about till Daddie Care Sing whistle owre the lave o't. I am, &c. Sae merrily's the banes we'll pyke, An' sun oursells about the dyke ; An' at our leisure, when ye like, We'll whistle owre the lave o't. I am, &c. But bless me wi' your heav'n o' charms, An' while I kittle hair on thairms, kk Hunger, cauld, an' a' sic harms, May whistle owre the l' hesitating. i rest. r oatmeal porridge. ■ cow. * porch. * "If anything on earth deserves the name of rapture or transport, it is the feeling of green eighteen in the company of the mistress of his heart, when she repays him with an equal return of affection." — Common-place Book, April 1783. 188 POEMS AND SONGS. [1735. To grace the lad, her weel-hain'd u kebbuck, v fell ; w And aft he's prest, and aft he ca's it guid : The frugal wifie, garrulous, will tell How 'twas a twomond x auld, sin' lint was i' the bell. The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face, They, round the ingle, form a circle wide ; The sire turns o'er, with patriarchal grace, The big ha'-bible, ance his father's pride : His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside, His lyart haffetsy wearing thin and bare ; Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, He wales 2 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 ; Perhaps 'Dundee's* wild -warbling measures rise, Or plaintive ' Martyrs,' worthy of the name ; Or noble ' Elgin ' beets the heaven- ward flame, The sweetest 9 far of Scotia's holy lays : Compar'd with these, Italian trills are tame ; The tickl'd ears no heart-felt raptures raise ; Nae unison hae they, with our Creator's praise. The priest-like father reads the sacred page, How Abram was the friend of God on high ; Or, Moses bade eternal warfare wage With Amalek's ungracious progeny ; Or, how the royal bard did groaning lie u saved. v cheese. w pungent. x twelvemonth, y gray side-locks. z selects. ^t. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 189 Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire ; Or Joh's pathetic plaiirt, and wailing cry; Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire; Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre. Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme, How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed ; How He, who bore in Heaven the second name, Had not on earth whereon to lay His head : How His first followers and servants sped ; The precepts sage they wrote to many a land : How he, who lone in Patmos banished, Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand, And heard great Bab'lon's doom pronounc'd by Heaven's command. Then kneeling down to Heaven's Eternal King, The saint, the father, and the husband prays : Hope " springs exulting on triumphant wing," "" That thus they all shall meet in future days, There, ever bask in uncreated rays, No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear, Together hymning their Creator's praise, In such society, yet still more dear ; While circling Time moves round in an eternal sphere. ( '"inpar'd with this, how poor Religion's pride. In all the pomp of method, and of art ; When men display to congregations wide Devotion's ev'ry grace, except the heart ! The Power, incens'd, the pageant will desert, • Pope's "Windsor Forest."—/?. B. 190 POEMS AND SOXGS. [1783. The pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole ; But haply, in some cottage far apart, May hear, well-pleas'd, the language of the soul ; And in His Book of Life the inmates poor enroll. Then homeward all take off their sev'ral way ; The youngling cottagers retire to rest : The parent-pair their secret homage pay, And proffer up to Heaven the warm request, That He who stills the raven's clam'rous nest, And decks the lily fair in flow'ry pride, Would, in the wav His wisdom sees the best, For them and for their little ones provide ; But chiefly, in their hearts with grace divine preside. From scenes like these, old Scotia's grandeur springs, That makes her lov'd at home, rever'd abroad : Princes and lords are but the breath of kings,* "An honest man's the noblest work of God ;" And certes, in fair virtue's heavenly road, The cottage leaves the palace far behind ; What is a lordling's pomp ? a cumbrous load, Disguising oft the wretch of human kind. Studied in arts of hell, in wickedness refin'd ! Scotia ! my dear, my native soil ! For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent, Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content ! And O ! may Heaven their simple lives prevent * "Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade ; A breath can make them, as a breath has made." Goldsmith's Deserted Village. jev. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 191 From luxury's contagion, weak and vile ! Then, howe'er crowns and coronets be rent, A virtuous populace may rise the while, And stand a wall of fire around their much-lov'd isle. Thou ! who pour'd the patriotic tide, That stream'd thro' Wallace's undaunted 10 heart, AVho dar'd to, nobly, stem tyrannic pride, Or nobly die, the second glorious part : (The patriot's God, peculiarly thou art, His friend, inspirer, guardian, and reward !) O never, never Scotia's realm desert ; But still the patriot, and the patriot-bard In bright succession raise, her ornament and guard ! [That this poem was composed near the close of 1785, is proved by the author's words in his letter to John Richmond, 17th February 1786. That young man was then a writer's clerk in Edinburgh, whither lie had gone from Mauchline two or three months previously. In that letter, the titles are given of five very important poems, including " The Cottar's Saturday Night," which, "among several others," he had composed since Richmond left Mauchline. Lockhart has well said — " ' The Cottar's Saturday Night ' is perhaps, of all Bums' pieces, the one whose exclusion from the collection, were such things possible now-a-days, would be most injurious, if not to the genius, at least to the character of the man. In spite of many feeble lines and some heavy stanzas, it appears to me that even his genius would suffer more in estimation by being contemplated in the absence of this poem than of any other single poem he has left us." The fact of this poem having been constructed on the model of I' i -usson's "Farmer's Ingle," takes nothing from its merit, and the rapidity of its execution along with many others, while it surprises us, can be explained only by the conjecture, that almost immediately after the failure of his second year's crop at Mossgiel, he had come to the resolu- tion of abandoning lii.s farm, and of composing a set of poems with a view to publication. The MS. copy of this poem, used by the printer of the Kilmarnock edition of his poems, ia now at Irvine, carefully preserved by the Burn ' I lub there, along with several other manuscripts. A fac-simile of ii, was published by Mr Maxwell Dick, of that town, in 1840. An earlier copy is that which was presented to Allan Cunningham in 192 POEMS AND SONGS. C 1 " 85 - 1 334 by his publisher, Mr James Cochrane, and is now in the British Museum, London. From these sources we are enabled to record the following variations : — 1 flocks. 2 Do. 4 tender. B sucken love. 6 traced long 7 balmy. 8 coward. 9 chiefest. The variations marked ( 3 ) and ( 10 ) were made by the author for his edition of 1793: the latter originally read "great, unhappy Wallace' heart," the change having been adopted to please Mrs Dunlop. The ex- pression " kiaugh and care " ( 3 ) was at the same time changed to " cark- ing cares," to suit those who objected to the word "kiaugh" as being too antiquated. In our text, we adhere to the original words.] ADDRESS TO THE DEIL. (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) " Prince ! O chief of many throned pow'rs ! That led th' embattl'd seraphim to war — " Milton. Thou ! whatever title suit thee — Auld " Homie," " Satan," " Nick," or " Clootie," Wha in yon cavern grim an' sootie, Clos'd under hatches, Spairges a about the brunstane cootie, b To scaud poor wretches ! Hear me, auld " Hangie," for a wee, An' let poor damned bodies be ; I'm sure sma' pleasure it can gie, Ev'n to a deil, To skelp an' scaud poor dogs like me, An' hear us squeel ! Great is thy pow'r an' great thy fame ; Far kenn'd an' noted is thy name ; a scatters. b foot-pail. Art. 27.] POEMS AND SONGS. 193 An' tho' yon lovvin heugh's c thy hame, Thou travels far ; An' faith ! thou 's neither lag d nor lame, Nor blate, e nor scaur. £ Whyles, rangin like a roarin lion, For prey, a' holes an' corners tryin ; Whyles, on the strong- wing'd tempest fly in, Tirlin s the kirks ; Whyles, in the human bosom pryin, Unseen thou lurks. I've heard my rev'rend grannie say, In lanely glens ye like to stray ; Or where auld ruin'd castles grey Nod to the moon, Ye fright the nightly wand'rer's way, Wi' eldritch h croon. When twilight did my grannie summon, To say her pray'rs, douse, honest woman ! Aft 'yont the dyke she's heard you bummin, Wi' eerie * drone ; Or, rustlin, thro' the boortreesJ comin, Wi' heavy groan. Ac dreary, windy, winter night, The stars shot down wi' sklentin k light, Wi' you mysel, I gat a fright, Ayont the lough ; Ye, like a rash-buss, stood in sight, Wi' wavin sough. 1 c pit or hollow. d slow. e bashful. f to be scared. ■ unroofing. h hideous, 'frightful. 1 elder-trees. k slanting. ' sound. I. N 194 POEMS AND SONGS. [1785. The cudgel in my nieve m did shake, Each bristl'd hair stood like a stake, When wi' an eldritch, stoor n " quaick, quaick," Amang the springs, Awa ye squatter 'd like a drake, On whistlin wings. Let warlocks grim, an' wither'd hags, Tell how wi' you, on ragweed nags, They skim the muirs an' dizzy crags, Wi' wicked speed ; And in kirk -yards renew their leagues, Owre howket dead. Thence, countra wives, wi' toil an' pain, May plunge an' plunge the kirn in vain ; For oh ! the yellow treasures taen By witchin skill ; An' dawtet,P twal-pint ' hawkie's ' '. 210 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. An' there began a lang digression About the "lords o' the creation." CESAR. I've aften wonder'd, honest Lnath, What sort o' life poor dogs like you have ; An' when the gentry's life I saw, What way poor bodies liv'd ava. Our laird gets in his racked rents, His coals, his kane,*! an' a' his stents : r He rises when he likes himsel ; His flunkies answer at the bell ; He ca's his coach ; he ca's his horse ; He draws a bonie silken purse, As lang's my tail, whare, thro' the steeks, The yellow letter'd Geordie keeks. Frae morn to e'en it's nought but toiling, At baking, roasting, frying, boiling ; An' tho' the gentry first are stechin, s Yet ev'n the ha' folk t fill their pechan u Wi' sauce, ragouts, an' sic like trashtrie, That's little short o' downright wastrie. Our whipper-in, wee, blastet wonner, v Poor, worthless elf, it eats a dinner, Better than ony tenant-man His Honor has in a' the Ian' : An' what poor cot-folk pit their painch w in, I own it's past my comprehension. LUATH. Trowth, Csesar, whyles they're fash't x eneugh : A cotter howkin in a sheugh/ q rents in farm-produce. r assessments. 8 cramming. * kitchen-people. u bally. T despised indweller. w stomach. x perplexed. y ditch. >et. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 211 Wi' dirty stanes biggin a dyke, Baring z a quarry, an' sic like ; Himsel, a wife, he thus sustains, A smytrie a o' wee duddie weans, An' nought but his ban'-daurg, b to keep Them right an' tight in thack an' raep. c An' when they meet wi' sair disasters, Like loss o' health or want o' masters, Ye maist wad think, a wee touch langer, An' they maun starve o' cauld and hunger : But how it comes, I never kent yet, The}''re maistly wonderfu' contented An' buirdly d chiels, an' clever hizzies, e Are bred in sic a way as this is. CLESAR. But then to see how ye're neglecket, How huff'd, an' cuffd, an' disrespecket ! L — d man, our gentry care as little For delvers, ditchers, an' sic cattle ; They gang as saucy by poor folk, As I wad by a stinking brock. f I've notic'd, on our laird's court-day, — An 5 mony a time my heart's been wae, — Poor tenant bodies, scant o' cash, How they maun thole 6 a factor's snash ; h He'll stamp an' threaten, curse an' swear He'll apprehend them, poind * their gear ; While they maun stan', wi' aspect humble, An' hear it a', an' fear an' tremble ! ■ clearing away the debris from the rock. ■ litter. b hand's labour. c "thack and raep," meaning thatch and straw-rope to hind it, is a sym- bolic term for "household." d stately. • women, 'badger. I endure. '' outburst of spite. ' judicially attach. 212 POEMS AND SONGS. [17S6. I see how folk live that hae riches ; But surely poor-folk maun be wretches ! LUATH. They're no sae wretched 's ane wad think. Tho' constantly on poortith's brink, They're sae accustom'd wi' the sight, The view o't gies them little fright. Then chance and fortune are sae guided, They're ay in less or mair provided ; An' tho' fatigu'd wi' close employment, A blink o' rest's a sweet enjoyment. The dearest comfort o' their lives, Their grushie J weans an' faithfu' wives ; The prattling things are just their pride, That sweetens a' their fire-side. An' whyles twalpennie worth o' nappy k Can mak the bodies unco happy : They lay aside their private cares, To mind the Kirk and State affairs ; They'll talk o' patronage an' priests, Wi' kindling fury i' their breasts, Or tell what new taxation's comin, An' ferlie 1 at the folk in Lon'on. As bleak-fac'd Hallowmass returns, They get the jovial, rantin kirns, m When rural life, of ev'ry station, Unite in common recreation ; Love blinks, Wit slaps, an' social Mirth Forgets there's Care upo' the earth. That merry day the year begins, They bar the door on frosty win's ; J thriving. k ale. ' marvel. m harvest-home rejoicings. jet. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 213 The nappy reeks wi' mantling ream, An sheds a heart-inspiring steam ; The luntin pipe, an' sneeshin mill, 11 Are handed round wi' right guid will ; The cantie auld folks crackin crouse, The young anes ranting thro' the house — ■ My heart has been sae fain to see them, That I for joy hae barket wi' them. Still it's owre true that ye hae said Sic game is now owre aften play'd ; There's mony a creditable stock O' decent, honest, fawsontP folk, Are riven out baith root an' branch, Some rascal's pridefu' greed to quench, Wha thinks to knit himsel the faster In favor wi' some gentle master, Wha, aiblins thrang a parliamentin, For Britain's guid his saul indentin' — (LESAR. Haith, lad, ye little ken about it : For Britain's guid ! guid faith ! I doubt it. Say rather, gaun as Premiers lead him : An' saying aye or no 's they bid him : At operas an' plays parading, Mortgaging, gambling, masquerading : Or maybe, in a frolic daft, To Hague or Calais takes a waft, To mak a tour an' tak a whirl, To learn boil ton, an' see the worl\ There, at Vienna or Versailles, He rives his father's auld entails ; ■ snuff-mull. ° conversing gleefully. '' seemly. 214- POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. Or by Madrid he takes the rout, To thrum guitars an' fecht wi' nowt ; Or down Italian vista startles, Wh- re-hunting amang groves o' n^rtles : Then bowses drumlie German-water, To mak himsel look fair an' fatter, An' clear the consequential sorrows, 2 Love-gifts of Carnival signoras. For Britain's guid ! for her destruction ! Wi' dissipation, feud an' faction. LUATH. Hech man ! dear sirs ! is that the gate They waste sae mony a braw estate ! Are we sae foughten an' harass'd For gear to gang that gate at last ? O would they stay aback frae courts, An' please themsels wi' countra sports, It wad for ev'ry ane be better, The laird, the tenant, an' the cotter ! For thae frank, rantin', ramblin' billies, Fient haet o' them's ill-hearted fellows ; Except for breakin o' their timmer, Or speakin lightly o' their limmer, Or shootin of a hare or moor-cock, The ne'er-a-bit they're ill to poor folk. But will ye tell me, master Csesar, Sure great folk's life 's a life o' pleasure ? Nae cauld nor hunger e'er can steer them, The vera thought o't need na fear them. CiESAR. L — d, man, were ye but whyles whare I am, The gentles, ye wad ne'er envy them ! // *T. 23.] POEMS AXD SONGS. 215 It's true, they need na starve or sweat, Thro' winter's cauld, or simmer's heat ; They've nae sair-wark to craze their banes, An' fill auld-age wi' grips an' granes : But human bodies are sic fools, For a' their colleges an' schools, That when nae real ills perplex them, They mak enow themsels to vex them ; An' ay the less they hae to sturt^ them, In like proportion, less will hurt them. A country fellow at the pleugh, His acre's till'd, he's right eneugh ; A country girl at her wheel, Her dizzen's done, she's unco weel; But gentlemen, an' ladies warst, Wi' ev'n-down want o' wark are curst. They loiter, lounging, lank an' lazy ; Tho' deil-haet ails them, yet uneasy : Their days insipid, dull an' tasteless ; Their nights unquiet, lang an' restless. An' ev'n their sports, their balls an' races, Their galloping through public places, There's sic parade, sic pomp an' art, The joy can scarcely reach the heart. The men cast out in party-matches, Then sowther a' in deep debauches. Ae night they're mad wi' drink an' wh— ring, Niest day their life is past enduring. The ladies arm-in-arm in clusters, As great an' gracious a' as sisters ; But hear their absent thoughts o' ither, They're a' run deils an' jads thegither. q molest. 216 POEMS AND SONGS. [17S6. Whyles, owre the wee bit cup an' platie, They sip the scandal-potion pretty ; Or lee-lang nights, wi' crabbet leuks Pore owre the devil's pictnr'd beuks ; Stake on a chance a farmer's stackyard, An' cheat like ony unhang'd blackguard. There's some exceptions, man an' woman ; But this is gentry's life in common. By this, the sun was out o' sight, An' darker gloamin brought the night ; The bum-clock 1 " humm'd wi' lazy drone ; The kye stood rowtin i' the loan ; When up they gat, an' shook their lugs, Rejoic'd they were na men, but dogs; An' each took aff his several way, Resolv'd to meet some ither day. [" The tale of ' Twa Dogs' was composed after the resolution of publishing was nearly taken. Robert had had a dog which he called •' Luath ' that was a great favourite. The dog had been killed by the wanton cruelty of some person the night before my father's death. Robert said to me that he should like to confer such immortality as he could bestow upon his old friend Luath, and that he had a great mind to introduce something into the book under the title of ' Stanzas to the memory of a quadruped friend ;' but this plan was given up for the tale as it now stands. ' Caesar' was merely the creature of the poet's imagination, created for the purpose of holding chat with his favourite Luath." — Letter of Gilbert Burns, Vol. iii., Appendix, dime's Ed. The main object of this poem, Dr Currie has remarked, " seems to be to inculcate a lesson of contentment on the lower classes of society, by shewing that their superiors are neither much better nor happier than themselves. . . . The dogs of Burns, excepting in their talent for moralizing, are downright dogs, and not, like the horses of Swift, and ' Hind and Panther' of Dryden, men in the shape of brutes." The first variation we have to notice is in the sixth paragraph of the poem, — some of the poet's more squeamish critics having jDrevailed on * beetle. xr. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 217 him to change a very graphic couplet to a very tame and inexpressive one. Accordingly, in the edition of 1794, instead of the lines in our text, we read as follows : — 1 Until wi' daffin weary grown, Upon a knowe they sat them down : and from one of his manuscripts of that period, it might be inferred that the alteration cost him some trouble, as the former line reads thus : — Till tired at last, and weary grown. Some close observer of the canine species has remarked that dogs never choose a " knowe " to sit on. The poet's picture ought not therefore to have been meddled with. The second variation ( 2 ) is found in the edition of 1786, where, instead of the improved text, we read thus : — " An' purge the bitter ga's an' cankers, 0' curst Venetian b — res an' ch— ncres."] THE AUTHOR'S EARNEST CRY AND PRAYER TO 1 THE SCOTCH EEPRESENTATIVES IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS.* (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786). Dearest of distillation ! last and best How art thou lost ! Parody on Milton. Ye Irish lords, ye knights an' squires, Wha represent our brughs an' shires, An' doucely a manage our affairs In parliament, To you a simple poet's 2 pray'rs Are humbly sent. a honestly. * This was written before the Act anent the Scotch distilleries, of session 178G, for which Scotland and the Author return their most grateful thanks. —R B. 218 POEMS AND SONGS. [17SG. Alas ! my roupet b muse is hearse ! Your Honors' hearts wi' grief 'twad pierce, To see her sittin on her arse Low i' the dust, And scriechin out prosaic verse, An' like to brust ! Tell them wha hae the chief direction, Scotland an' me's in great affliction, E'er sin' they laid that curst restriction On aqua-vitae ; An' rouse them up to strong conviction, An' move their pity. Stand forth, an' tell yon Premier youth c The honest, open, naked truth : Tell him o' mine an' Scotland's drouth, His servants humble : The muckle deevil blaw you south, If ye dissemble ! Does ony great man glunch d an' gloom ? Speak out, an' never fash e your thumb ! Let posts an' pensions sink or soom Wi' them wha grant them; If honestly they canna come, Far better want them. In gath'rin votes you were na slack ; Now stand as tightly by your tack : b hoarse with crying. c Mr. Pitt. d grumble. e trouble. jer. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 219 Ne'er claw your lug, f an' fidge & your back, An' hum an' haw ; But raise your arm, an' tell your crack 11 Before them a'. Paint Scotland greetin 1 owre her thrissle ; 3 Her mutchkin stowp as toom's k a whisslc ; An' d — mn'd excisemen in a bussle, Seizin a stell, Triumphant, crushin't like a mussel, Or limpet shell ! Then, on the tither hand, present her — A blackguard smuggler right behint her, An' cheek-for-chow, a chuffie 1 vintner Colleaguing join, Pickin' her pouch as bare as winter Of a' kind coin. Is there, that bears the name o' Scot, But feels his heart's bluid rising hot, To see his poor auld mither's pot Thus dung in staves, An' plunder'd o' her hindmost groat, By gallows knaves ? Alas ! I'm but a nameless wight, Trode i' the mire* out o' sight ! 1 scratch your ear. & shrug. h speech. ' weeping. ' thistle. k empty. Y fat-faced. * The rhythm here demands that this monosyllable he enunciated as two syllables, 220 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. But could I like Montgomeries * fight, Or gab like Boswell,^ There's some sark-necks I wad draw tight, An' tie some hose well. God bless your Honors ! can ye see't — The kind, auld, cantie carlin m greet, An' no get warmly to your feet, An' gar them hear it, An' tell them wi' a patriot-heat, Ye winna bear it ? Some o' you nicely ken the laws, To round the period an' pause, An' with rhetoric clause on clause To mak harangues ; Then echo thro' Saint Stephen's wa's Auld Scotland's wrangs. Dempster,^ a true blue Scot I'se warran ; Thee, aith-detesting, chaste Kilkerran ;§ An' that glib-gabbet n Highland baron, The Laird o' Graham ; j| An' ane, a chap that's d — mn'd auldfarran ° Dundas his name : IT Erskine, a spunkie Norland billie ; ** True Campbells, Frederick and Hay ; *f**f- m cheerful old wife. n ready-tongued. ° sagacious. * The Montgomeries of Coilsfield. t The biographer of Johnson. J George Dempster of Dunnichen, M.P. § Sir Adam Ferguson, M.P. || Marquis of Graham, afterwards Duke of Montrose. If Eight Hon. Henry Dundas, M.P. ** Thomas, afterwards Lord Erskine. ft Lord Frederick Campbell, M.P., brother of the Duke of Argyle, and Hay Campbell, Lord Advocate, afterwards Lord President. XI. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 221 An' Livistone, the bauld Sir Willie ; * An' mony ithers, Whom auld Demosthenes or Tully Might own for brithers. See, sodger Hugh,-f- my watchman stented, If poets e'er are represented ; I ken if that your sword were wanted, Ye'd lend a hand ; But when there's ought to say anent it, Ye're at a stand. 3 Arouse, my boys ! exert your mettle, To get auld Scotland back her kettle ; Or faith ! I'll wad P my new pleugh-pettle, Ye'll see't or . + Numbers xxv. 8. — R. B. X Exodus iv. 25.— A'. B. 228 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786 Now auld Kilmarnock, cock thy tail, An' toss thy horns fu' canty ; J Nae mair thou'lt rowte k out-owre the dale, Because thy pasture's scanty ; For lapfu's large o' gospel kail Shall fill thy crib in plenty, An' runts 1 o' grace the pick an' wale, No gi'en by way o' dainty, But ilka day. Nae mair by " Babel's streams " we'll weep, To think upon our " Zion ;" And hing our fiddles up to sleep, Like baby-clouts a-dryin ! Come, screw the pegs wi' tunefu' cheep, And o'er the thairms m be tryin ; Oh, rare ! to see our elbucks n wheep, Aud a' like lamb-tails flyin, Fu' fast this day ! Lang, Patronage, wi' rod o' aim, Has shor'd ° the Kirk's undoin ; As lately Fenwick, sair forfairn,P Has proven to its ruin : * Our patron, honest man ! Glencairn, He saw mischief was brewin ; An' like a godly, elect bairn, He's waled 1 us out a true ane, And sound this day. 1 merry. k low. ' roots of cabbage. m catgut. n elbows. attempted. p distressed. * selected. * Rev. Wm. Boyd, a "Moderate,'' ordained pastor of Fenwick, June '25, 1782. *t. 28.] TOEMS AND SONGS. 229 Now Robertson * harangue nae mair, But steek r your gab s for ever ; Or try the wicked town of Ayr, For there they'll think you clever : Or, nae reflection on your lear, Ye may commence a shaver ; Or to the Netherton -f- repair, An' turn a carpet-weaver, Aff-hand this day. Mu'trie I and you were just a match, We never had sic twa drones ; Auld " Hornie " did the Laigh Kirk watch, Just like a winkin baudrons,* And ay he catch'd the tither wretch, To fry them in his caudrons ; But now his Honor maun detach, Wi' a' his brimstone squadrons, Fast, fast 3 this day. See, see auld Orthodoxy's faes She's swingein thro' the city ! Hark, how the nine-tail'd cat she plays ! I vow it's unco pretty : There, Learning, with his Greekish face, Grunts out some Latin ditty ; And " Common-sense " is gaun, she says, To mak to Jamie Beattie § Her plaint this day. r shut. B mouth. * cat. * Rev. John Itohertson, colleague of Dr Mackinlay, ordained 17G5, died 1798. He belonged to the "Common-sense " order of preachers, t A district of K ilmarnock, where carpet weaving was largely carried on. £ The Rev. John Multrie, a " Moderate" whom Mackinlay succeeded. g The poet, and author of an " Essay on Truth," who was reckoned to with the moderate party in church matters. 230 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. But there's Morality himsel, Embracing all opinions ; Hear, how he gies the tither yell, Between his twa companions ! See, how she peels the skin an' fell, u As ane were peelin onions ! Now there, they're packed aff to h-11, An' banish'd our dominions, Henceforth this day. happy day ! rejoice, rejoice ! Come bouse about the porter ! Morality's demure decoys 4 Shall here nae mair find quarter : Mackinlay, Russell, are the boys That heresy can torture ; 5 They'll gie her on a rape a hoyse, And cowe v her measure shorter By th' head some day. Come, bring the tither mutchkin in, And here's — for a conclusion — To ev'ry " new-light * " mother's son, From this time forth, confusion! If mair they deave us wi' their din, Or patronage intrusion, We'll light a spunk, w and ev'ry skin, We'll rin them aff in fusion, Like oil some day. [The poet's letter to Kichmond of 17th Feb. 1786 intimates that the present poem had already been composed : but it is a curious fact that Dr Mackinlay's ordination did not take place till 6th April thereafter. u bitter-tasting part. v cut. w a brimstone match. * A cant-phrase in the West of Scotland, for those religious opinions ■which Dr Taylor of Norwich has defended so strenuously. — A'. B. xs. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 231 Chronologists and annotators are thus taught how unsafe it is to dog- matise on any production from internal evidence alone. Thus it is not improbable that even the poem of " The Whistle " was composed in anticipation of the event ; with only a few lines added thereafter to record the triumph of Craigdarroch. Both in this poem and its companion satire, "The Holy Fair," a pei - sonality named " Common-Sense " is introduced. This means the " new light," or Arminian doctrine that crept into the teaching of some Scotch pulpits, about the middle of last century, and which Burns lent all the powers of his pen to promote. Here he retraces the history of the "Laigh Kirk" of Kilmarnock so far back as the year 1764, and shows that a series of consecutive appointments of non-evangelical ministers then commenced with the Rev. Wm. Lindsay. He refers to "a scoffing ballad" of that date which more than hinted that the minister obtained that appointment through the influence of his wife, a Miss Margaret Lauder, who had formerly been in high favour with the patron, the Earl of Glencairn. On the present occasion, however, the Earl yielded to the popular wishes, and the refreshing "old light" again spread its halo around the Laigh Kirk. Mackinlay survived till 1841. His son, the Bev. James Mackinlay, died in Edinburgh so recently as June 1876. The following variations are found in an early manuscript of this poem : — 1 Come wale a text, a proper verse, And touch it aff wi' vigour, How Ham leugh at his father's a , Which made Canaan a nigger ; Or Phineas did fair Cozbie pierce Wi' whore-abhorring rigour ; Or Zipporah, wi' scaulding hearse, &c. 2 There, try his mettle on the creed, Wi' form'la and confession ; And lay your hands upon his head, And seal his high commission, The holy flock to tent and feed, And punish each transgression, &c. 3 Fu' fast. 4 delusive joys. 6 will clap him in the torture.] 232 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. EPISTLE TO JAMES SMITH. (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) " Friendship, mysterious cement of the soul ! Sweet'ner of Life, and solder of Society ! I owe thee much " Blair. Dear Smith, the slee'st, pawkie thief, That e'er attempted stealth or rief ! a Ye surely hae some warlock -breef b Owre human hearts ; For ne'er a bosom yet was prief c Against your arts. For me, I swear by sun an' moon, An' ev'ry star that blinks d aboon, Ye've cost me twenty pair o' shoon, Just gaun to see you ; An' ev'ry ither pair that's done, Mair taen I'm wi' you. That auld, capricious carlin, Nature, To mak amends for scrimpet e stature, She's turn'd you off, a human-creature On her first plan, And in her freaks, on ev'ry feature She's wrote the Man. Just now I've taen the fit o' rhyme, My barmie noddle's f working prime, * robbery. b spell. c proof. d twinkles. e stinted. l excited brain. iET. 2S.] POEMS AND SOXGS. 233 My fancy yerket" up sublime, Wi' hasty summon : Hae ye a leisure-moment's time To hear what's comin ? Some rhyme a neibor's name to lash ; Some rhyme (vain thought !) for needfu' cash ; Some rhyme to court the countra clash, 11 An' raise a din ; For me, an aim I never fash ; I rhyme for fun. The star that rules my luckless lot, Has fated me the russet coat, An' damn'd my fortune to the groat ; But, in requit, Has blest me with a random-shot O' countra wit. This while my notion's taen a sklent, To try my fate in guid, black prent ; But still the mair I'm that way bent, Something cries " Hoolie l l I redJ you, honest man, tak tent ! k Ye'll shaw your folly ; There's ither poets, much your betters, Far seen in Greek, deep men o' letters, Hae thought they had ensur'd their debtors, A' future ages ; Now moths deform, in shapeless tatters, Their unknow n pages." "tightened. h gossip. Softly! J warn. "heed. 234 POEMS AND SONGS. t 1 " 80 - Then farewell hopes of laurel-boughs, To garland my poetic brows ! Henceforth I'll rove where busy ploughs Are whistlin thrang, An' teach the lanely heights an howes My rustic sang. I'll wander on, wi' tentless heed How never-halting moments speed, Till fate shall snap the brittle thread ; Then, all unknown, I'll lay me with th' inglorious dead, Forgot and gone ! But why o' death begin a tale? Just now we're living sound an' hale ; Then top and maintop crowd the sail, Heave Care o'er-side ! And large, before Enjoyment's gale, Let's tak the tide. This life, sae far's I understand, Is a' enchanted fairy-land, Where Pleasure is the magic-wand, That, wielded right, Maks hours like minutes, hand in hand, Dance by fu' light. The magic-wand then let us wield ; For, ance that five-an'-forty's speel'd, See, crazy, weary, joyless eild, Wi' wrinkl'd face, Comes hostin, 1 hirplin m owre the field, Wi' creepin pace. 1 coughing. m limping. att. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 235 When ance life's day draws near the gloaming Then fareweel vacant, careless roamin ; An' fareweel chearfu' tankards foamin, An' social noise : An' fareweel dear, deluding woman, The joy of joys ! Life ! how pleasant, in thy morning, Young Fancy's rays the hills adorning ! Cold-pausing Caution's lesson scorning, We frisk away, Like school-boys, at th' expected warning, To joy an' play. We wander there, we wander here, We eye the rose upon the brier, Unmindful that the thorn is near, Among the leaves ; And tho' the puny wound appear, Short while it grieves. o Some, lucky, find a flow'ry spot, For which they never toil'd nor swat ; They drink the sweet and eat the fat, But care or pain ; And haply eye the barren hut With high disdain With steady aim, some fortune chase ; Keen hope does ev'ry sinew brace ; Thro' fair, thro' foul, they urge the race, An' seize the prey : Then cannie,P in some cozie^ place, They close the day. "twilight. "without. '' quietly. » snug. 236 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786 And others, like your humble servan', Poor wights ! nae rules nor roads observin, To right or left eternal swervin, They zig-zag on ; Till, curst with age, obscure an' starvin, They aften groan. Alas ! what bitter toil an' straining — But truce with peevish, poor complaining ! Is fortune's fickle Luna waning ? E'en let her gang ! Beneath what light she has remaining, Let's sing our sang. My pen I here fling to the door, And kneel, ye Pow'rs ! and warm implore, " Tho' I should wander Terra o'er, In all her climes, Grant me but this, I ask no more, Ay rowth r o' rhymes. " Gie dreeping roasts to countra lairds, Till icicles hing frae their beards ; Gie fine braw claes to fine life-guards, And maids of honor ; An' yill an' whisky gie to cairds, 8 Until they sconner.* " A title, Dempster * merits it ; A garter gie to Willie Pitt ; abundance. 8 tinkers. * are nauseated. * George Dempster of Dunnichen, M. P. , a distinguished patriot referred to in "The Author's Earnest Cry," p. 220. ^r- 28-] POEMS AND SONGS. 237 Gie wealth to some be-ledger'd cit, In cent, per cent. ; But give me real, sterling wit, And I'm content. " While ye are pleas'd to keep me hale, I'll sit down o'er my scanty meal, Be't water-brose or muslin-kail, u Wi' chearfu' face, As lang's the Muses dinna fail To say the grace." An anxious e'e I never throws Behint my lug, or by my nose ; I jouk v beneath Misfortune's blows As weel's I may ; Sworn foe to sorrow, care, and prose, I rhyme away. O ye douce w folk that live by rule, Grave, tideless-blooded, calm an' cool, Compar'd wi' you — O fool ! fool ! fool ! How much unlike ! Your hearts are just a standing pool, Your lives, a dyke ! x Nae hair-brain'd, sentimental traces In your unletter'd, nameless faces ! In arioso trills and graces Ye never stray; But gravissimo, solemn basses Ye hum away. u tliin broth. v escape. w serious. x wall. 238 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. Ye are sae grave, nae doubt ye're wise ; Nae ferly y tho' ye do despise The hairum-scairum, ram-stam boys, The rattling squad : I see ye upward cast your eyes — Ye ken the road ! Whilst I — but I shall baud me there, Wi' you I'll scarce gang ony where — Then, Jamie, I shall say nae mair, But quat my sang, Content wi' you to mak a pair, Whare'er I gang. [The only variation found in this poem is in the last verse but one. The word "rattlin" was introduced in 1787, for "rambling" in the previous edition. James Smith, the person here addressed, was a shop- keeper in Mauchline, short of stature but vigorous in mind. From what we have said of him (p. 163, supra) as the "wag in Mauchline," celebrated in one of Burns' cleverest epigrams, and as " fiscal " of the " Court of Equity" held at the Whiteford Arms Inn, the reader will need little more information regarding him. He stood Burns' friend " through thick and thin," when he got into difficulties early in the Spring of 1786, in relation to his love-alliance with Jean Armour. The first intimation of trouble regarding that affair is given in the poet's letter to Bichmond, 17th Feb. 1786, in which he says: "I have some very important news with respect to myself, not the most agreeable — news that I am sure you cannot guess, but I shall give you the particulars another time. I am extremely happy with Smith ; he is the only friend I have now in Mauchline." Smith afterwards had a calico- printing manufactory at Avon, near Linlithgow, but proved unsuccess- ful. It was his fate to end life sooner even than our poet, and in the very place where Burns at one time expected to end his — the West Indies.] y wonder. jet. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 239 THE VISION. (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) DUAN FIRST.*"" The sun had clos'd the winter day, The curlers quat their roarin play,-f- And hunger d maukin a taen her way, To kail-yards green, While faithless snaws ilk step betray Whare she has been. The thresher's weary flingin-tree, b The lee-lang day had tired me ; And when the day had clos'd his e'e, Far i' the west, Ben i' the spence, c right pensivelie, I gaed to rest. There, lanely by the ingle-cheek, I sat and ey'd the spewing reek, That fill'd, wi' hoast-provoking d smeek, The auld clay biggin , e An' heard the restless rattons squeak About the riggin. OB' All in this mottie, misty clime, I backward mus'd on wasted time, a hare. b flail. c parlour, or inner apartment. d cough exciting. ° building. * Daan, a term of Ossian's for the different divisions of a digrcssivo poem. See his Cath-Loda, vol. 2. of M'Pherson's translation. — R.B. j Not only from the hilarity of the game, but from the roaring sound of tin; curling-stone along the hollow ice. 240 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. How I had spent my youthfu' prime, An' clone naething, But stringing blethers up in rhyme, For fools ^o sing. Had I to guid advice but harket, I might, by this, hae led a market, Or strutted in a bank and clarket My cash-account ; While here, half-mad, half-fed, half-sarket, Is a' th' amount. I started, mu Wring "blockhead ! coof !" f An' heav'd on high my wauket loof,& To swear by a' yon starry roof, Or some rash aith, That I henceforth wad be rhyme-proof Till my last breath — When click ! the string the snick did draw ; An' jee ! the door gaed to the wa' ; An' by my ingle-lowe I saw, Now bleezin bright, A tight, outlandish hizzie, braw, Come full in sight. Ye need na doubt, I held my whisht ; The infant aith, half-form'd, was crusht ; I glowr'd h as eerie 's * I'd been dusht.i In some wild glen ; When sweet, like modest Worth, she blusht, An' stepped ben. f fool. 8 W ork -hardened palm. h stared. 1 frightened. •> awed into stupor. at. 23.] POEMS AND SONGS. 241 Green, slender, leaf-clad holly-boiighs Were twisted, gracefu', round her brows ; I took her for some Scottish Muse, By that same token ; And come to stop those reckless vows, Would soon been broken. A " hair-brain'd, sentimental trace " * Was strongly marked in her face ; A wildly- witty, rustic grace Shone full upon her; Her eye, ev'n turn'd on empty space, Beam'd keen with honor.-f* Down flow'd her robe, a tartan sheen, Till half a leg was scrimply seen ; An' such a leg ! my bonie Jean J Could only peer it ; Sae straught, sae taper, tight an' clean — Nane else came near it. Her mantle large, of greenish hue, My gazing wonder chiefly drew ; Deep lights and shades, bold-mingling, threw A lustre grand ; And seem'd, to my astonish 'd view, A well-known land. * A quotation from his own words in the preceding Epistle to James Smith, page 237. t This couplet was a great favourite with Dr Chalmers, who referred to it as the description of an eye too divine for fallen humanity to possess. His own eye seemed to belie his words as he spoke. X " My bonie Jean." About the month of January or February 17S0, when, as we conjecture, this poem was composed, these words must have Btood as in the text. But when his poems were at the press, the author's irritation on her account caused him to alter the words to " my Bess, I ween," — and so they stand in the Kilmarnock edition : but in 1787, that irri- tation having subsided, Jean was restored to her place of honour in the poem. L Q 242 POEMS AND SONGS. [17SG Here, rivers in the sea were lost ; There, mountains to the skies were toss't : Here, tumbling billows mark'd the coast, With surging foam ; There, distant shone Art's lofty boast, The lordly dome. Here, Doon pour'd down his far-fetch'd floods ; There, well-fed Irwine stately thuds : Auld hermit Ayr staw thro' his woods, On to the shore ; And many a lesser torrent scuds, With seeming roar. Low, in a sandy valley spread, An ancient borough rear'd her head ; Still, as in Scottish story read, She boasts a race To ev'ry nobler virtue bred, And polish'd grace.* [By stately tow'r, or palace fair, Or ruins pendent in the air, Bold stems of heroes, here and there, I could discern ; Some seem'd to muse, some seem'd to dare, With feature stern. My heart did glowing transport feel, To see a race heroic -J* wheel, * Here, in the first edition, Duan First came to a close ; the additional seven stanzas were appended in the second edition, apparently in compli- ment to Mrs Dunlop and other influential friends of the author. + The Wallaces.—^. B. jf-t. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 24-3 And brandish round the deep-dyed steel, In sturdy blows ; While, back-recoiling, seem'd to reel Their suthron foes. His Country's Saviour, * mark him well ! Bold Richardton's heroic swell ; "f The chief, on Sark who glorious fell ^ In high command ; And he whom ruthless fates expel His native land. There, where a sceptr'd Pictish shade Stalk'd round his ashes lowly laid,§ I mark'd a martial race, pourtray'd In colours strong : Bold, soldier-featur'd, undismay'd, They strode 1 along. Thro' many a wild, romantic grove, || Near many a hermit-fancied cove (Fit haunts for friendship or 2 for love, In musing mood), An aged Judge, I saw him rove, Dispensing good. * William Wallace.— R. B. t Adam Wallace of Richardton, cousin to the immortal preserver of Scottish independence. — R. B. X Wallace, laird of Craigie, who was second in command, under Douglas, Earl of Ormond, at the famous hattle on the banks of Sark, fought in 1448. The glorious victory was principally owing to the judicious conduct and intrepid valour of the gallant laird of Craigie, who died of his wounds after the action. — R. B. § (Joilus, King of the Picts, from whom tne district of Kyle is said to take its name, lies buried, as tradition says, near the family seat of the Montgomeries of Coilflfield, where his burial place is still shown. — R. B. II Barskimming, the seat of the Lord Justice-Clerk. — R. B. (Sir Thomas Miller of Glenlee, afterwards President of the Court of Session.) 244 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. With deep-struck, reverential awe, The learned Sire and Son I saw : * To Nature's God, and Nature's law, They gave their lore ; This, 3 all its source and end to draw, That, 4 to adore. Brydon's brave ward *f- I well could spy, Beneath old Scotia's smiling eye ; Who call'd on Fame, low standing by, To hand him on, Where many a patriot-name on high, And hero shone.] DUAN SECOND. With musing-deep, astonish'd stare, I view'd the heavenly-seeming Fair ; A whispering throb did witness bear Of kindred sweet, When with an elder sister's air She did me greet. " All hail ! my own inspired bard ! In me thy native Muse regard; Nor longer mourn thy fate is hard, Thus poorly low ; I come to give thee such reward, As we bestow ! * Catrine, the seat of the late Doctor and present Professor Stewart. — B. B. The father of Dugald Stewart was eminent in Mathematics. f Colonel Fullerton. — B. B. He had travelled under the care of Patrick Brydone, author of a well-known publication, "A Tour through Sicily and Malta." arr. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 2 *5 " Know, the great genius of this land Has many a light aerial band, Who, all beneath his high command, Harmoniously, As arts or arms they understand, Their labours ply. " They Scotia's race among them share : Some fire the soldier on to dare ; Some rouse the patriot up to bare Corruption's heart : Some teach the bard — a darling care — The tuneful art. " 'Mong swelling floods of reeking gore, They, ardent, kindling spirits pour ; Or, 'mid the venal senate's roar, They, sightless, stand, To mend the honest patriot-lore, And grace the hand. " And when the bard, or hoary sage, Charm or instruct the future age, They bind the wild poetic rage In energy, Or point the inconclusive page Full on the eye.* " Hence, Fullarton, the brave and young ; Hence, Dempster's zeal-inspired tongue ; f * This stanza was added in the second edition (1787). + " Truth-pro vailing tongue " in first edition. See note p. 236. 24G POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. Hence, sweet, harmonious Beattie sung His ' Minstrel ' lays ; Or tore, with noble ardour stung, The sceptic's bays. " To lower orders are assign'd The humbler ranks of human-kind, The rustic bard, the laboring hind, The artisan ; All chuse, as various they're inclin'd, The various man. " When yellow waves the heavy grain, The threat'ning storm some strongly rein ; Some teach to meliorate the plain, With tillage-skill ; And some instruct the shepherd-train, Blythe o'er the hill. " Some hint the lover's harmless wile ; Some grace the maiden's artless smile ; Some soothe the laborer's weary toil For humble gains, And make his cottage-scenes beguile His cares and pains. " Some, bounded to a district-space, Explore at large man's infant race, To mark the embryotic trace Of rustic bard ; And careful note each opening grace, A guide and guard. *r. 2S.] POEMS AND SONGS. 247 " Of these am I — Coila my name : And this district as mine I claim, Where once the Campbells,-f- chiefs of fame, Held ruling pow'r : I mark'd thy embryo-tuneful flame, Thy natal hour. " With future hope I oft would gaze Fond, on thy little early ways, Thy rudely caroll'd, chiming phrase, In uncouth rhymes ; Fir'd at the simple, artless lays Of other times. " I saw thee seek the sounding shore, Delighted with the dashing roar ; Or when the North his fleecy store Drove thro' the sky, I saw grim Nature's visage hoar Struck thy young eye. " Or when the deep green-mantled earth Warm cherish'd ev'ry floweret's birth, And joy and music pouring forth In ev'ry grove ; I saw thee eye the general mirth With boundless love. " When ripen'd fields and azure skies Call'd forth the reapers' rustling noise, * Burns obtained the idea of this visionary from the " Scota " of Alex. Ross, in the "Fortunate Shepherdess." f The Loudoun branch of the Campbells is here referred to. 248 POEMS AND SONGS. [17SG- I saw thee leave their ev'ning joys, And lonely stalk, To vent thy bosom's swelling rise, In pensive walk. " When youthful love, warm-blushing, strong, Keen-shivering, shot thy nerves along, Those accents grateful to thy tongue, Th' adored Name, I taught thee how to pour in song, To soothe thy flame. " I saw thy pulse's maddening play, Wild send thee Pleasure's devious way, Misled by Fancy's meteor-ray, By passion driven ; But yet the light that led astray Was light from Heaven. " I taught thy manners-painting strains, The loves, the ways of simple swains, Till now, o'er all my wide domains Thy fame extends ; And some, the pride of Coila's plains, Become thy friends. " Thou canst not learn, nor I can show, To paint with Thomson's landscape glow ; Or wake the bosom-melting throe, With Shenstone's art ; Or pour, with Gray, the moving flow Warm on the heart. ^t-2S.] POEMS AND SONGS. 219 " Yet, all beneath th' unrivall'd rose, The lowly daisy sweetly blows ; Tho' large the forest's monarch throws His army-shade, Yet green the juicy hawthorn grows, Adown the glade. " Then never murmur nor repine ; Strive in thy humble sphere to shme ; And trust me, not Potosi's mine, Nor king's regard, Can give a bliss o'ermatching thine, A rustic bard. " To give my counsels all in one, Thy tuneful flame still careful fan : Preserve the dignity of Man, With soul erect ; And trust the Universal Plan Will all protect. " And wear thou this " — she solemn said, And bound the holly round my head : The polish'd leaves and berries red Did rustling play ; And, like a passing thought, she fled In light away. [When the poet, in his 19th stanza, Duan Second, makes Coila say to him that his fame extends over all her wide domains, he thereby plainly intimates, that several of his effusions had been widely circulated in manuscript prior to 1786 ; and that for some time past he had been cultivating the patronage of the gentry of the district. In a letter which he addressed to Mrs Dunlop from Edinburgh, on 15th January 1787, he enclosed the seven concluding stanzas of .Duan first, as in the text, and wrote as follows : — "I have not composed anything on the great 250 POEMS AND SONGS. [17SG. "Wallace, except what you have seen in print, and the enclosed, which I will print in this edition. You will see I have mentioned some others of the name. "When I composed my 'Vision' long ago, I had attempted a description of Kyle, of which the additional stanzas are a part, as it originally stood." To another patroness — Mrs Stewart of Stair — he had presented a manuscript book of ten leaves, folio, containing, along with several early poems, a copy of the Vision. That copy embraces about twenty stanzas which he cancelled when he came to print the piece in his Kilmarnock volume. Seven of these, as we have seen, he restored in printing his second edition, and the remainder of the suppressed verses we now append. The ten leaves of the poet's handwriting just referred to are generally styled the " Stair manuscript." It was purchased by the late Mr Dick, bookseller in Ayr, from the grandson of Mrs Stewart of Stair ; and, since Mr Dick's decease, it has been cut asunder and sold piecemeal by his representatives. Referring to the suppressed stanzas of the ' Vision,' Chambers thus observes : — " It is a curious and valuable document — valuable for an unexpected reason, namely, its proving what might otherwise be doubted, that Burns was not incapable of writing weakly. The whole of the inedited stanzas are strikingly of this character. Perhaps there is after all, a second and a greater importance in the document, as show- ing how, with the capability of writing ineffectively, his taste was so unerring as to prevent him from publishing a single line that was not fitted to command resj>ect ; for every one of the poor stanzas has been thrown out on sending the poem to the press." SUPPRESSED STANZAS OF "THE VISION." (Chambers, 1852.) After 18th stanza of the text : — With secret throes I marked that earth, That cottage, witness of my birth ; And near I saw, bold issuing forth In youthful pride, A Lindsay race of noble worth, Famed far and wide. Where, hid behind a spreading wood, An ancient Pict-built mansion stood, I spied, among an angel brood, A female pair ; Sweet shone their high maternal blood, And father's air.* * Sundrum. — R. B. Hamilton of Sundrum was married to a sister of Colonel Montgomerie of Coilsfield. irr. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 251 An ancient tower* to memory brought How Dettingen's bold hero fought ; Still, far from sinking into nought, It owns a lord Who far in western climates fought, With trusty sword. Among the rest I well could spy One gallant, graceful, martial boy, The soldier sparkled in his eye, A diamond water ; I blest that noble badge with joy That owned me j 'rater, t After 20th stanza of the text : — Near by arose a mansion fine,J The seat of many a muse divine ; Not rustic muses such as mine, With holly crown'd, But th' ancient, tuneful, laurell'd Nine, From classic ground. I mourn'd the card that Fortune dealt, To see where bonie Whitefoords dwelt ; § But other prospects made me melt, That village near ; || There Nature, Friendship, Love, I felt, Fond -mingling dear ! Hail ! Nature's pang, more strong than death ! Warm Friendship's glow, like kindling wrath ! Love, dearer than the parting breath Of dying friend ! Not ev'n with life's wild devious path, Your force shall end ! The Pow'r that gave the soft alarms In blooming Whiteford's rosy charms, Still threats the tiny, feather'd arms, The barbed dart, While lovely Wilhelminia warms The coldest heart. 1" * Stair. — It. B. That old mansion was then possessed hy General Stewart and his lady, to whom the MS. was presented. + Captain James Montgomerie, Master of St James' Lodge, Tarholton, to which the author has the honour to belong. — It. B. \ Auchinleck.— It. B. § Ballochmyle. || Mauehlino. If A compliment to Miss Wilhelmina Alexander as successor, in that locality, to Miss Maria Whitefoord. 252 POEMS AND SONGS. [17S6 After 21st stanza of the text : — "Where Lugar leaves his moorland plaid,* Where lately Want was idly laid, I marked busy, bustling Trade, In fervid flame, Beneath a Patroness's aid, Of noble name. Wild, countless hills I could survey, And countless flocks as wild as they ; But other scenes did charms display, That better please, Where polish'd manners dwell with Gray, In rural ease.f Where Cessnock pours with gurgling sound ; J And Irwine, marking out the bound, Enamour'd of the scenes around, Slow runs his race, A name I doubly honor'd found,§ With knightly grace. Brydon's brave ward,|| I saw him stand, Fame humbly offering her hand, And near, his kinsman's rustic band,^[ With one accord, Lamenting their late blessed land Must change its lord. The owner of a pleasant spot, Near sandy wilds, I last did note ; ** A heart too warm, a pulse too hot At times, o'erran ; But large in ev'ry feature wrote, Appear'd, the Man. In the Text, two of the verses inqjorted from the stanzas originally suppressed, namely, the 2nd and 4th from the close of Duan First, show minute variations in the MS. : — 1 stalked. 2 and. 3 The words This ( 3 ) and That ( 4 ) are transposed. The greater portion of the MS. of these " suppressed stanzas " is in the possession of Bobert Jardine, Esq. of Castlemilk, who has obliged us with the use of it in collating and correcting the eight concluding * Cumnock. — R. B. + Mr Farqukar Gray.— R. X Auchinskieth. — R. B. § Caprington. — R. B. B Colonel Fullerton (see note, p. 244).— R. B. IT Dr. Fullerton.— R. B. ** Orangefield.— R. B. «t. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 258 verses thereof. In that MS., the verse relating to Catrine (21st of the text) is inserted immediately before that referring to Cumnock and the Lugar.] THE RANTIN DOG, THE DADDIE O'T. Tune. — " Whare '11 our gudeman lie." (Johnson's Museum, 1790.) WHA my babie-clouts will buy ? wha will tent a me when I cry ? Wha will kiss me where I lie ? The rantin dog, the daddie o't. wha will own he did the faut ? wha will buy the 1 groamn maut ? b wha will tell me how to ca't ? The rantin dog, the daddie o't. When I mount the creepie-chair, c Wha will sit beside me there ? Gie me Rob, I'll seek nae mair, The rantin dog, the daddie o't. Wha will crack d to me my lane ? Wha will mak me fidgin fain ? e Wha will kiss me o'er again ? The rantin dog, the daddie o't. [The poet attached the following note to this production in the copy of the " Museum " which belonged to his friend Mr Riddell : — " I composed this song pretty early in life, and sent it to a young girl, a particular acquaintance of mine, who was at that time under a cloud." Although previous annotators have held this to apply to Betty Paton, our conjecture is that the young girl here referred to was Jean Armour, and the period — early in 1786, when the state of matters between them a watch. b refreshments for the nurse and gossips. c the penance-stool in the church. d converse. * eagerly foutL 2 51 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. could uo longer be concealed. By an unusual neglect on Lockliart's part to "verify his quotations," he condemns the above song, and says it " exhibits the poet as glorying, and only glorying in his shame." We quite agree with Sir Harris Nicolas that both this song referring to Jean, and the " Poet's Welcome " referring to a prior occasion of the same kind, "are remarkable for the tenderness they breathe towards infant and mother alike." There can be little doubt that this and a fragment of song which immediately follows, would be penned and sent to Jean by way of consolation when he first ascertained the result of their tender meetings. The only variation in the MS. is — HERE'S HIS HEALTH IN WATER. Tune. — " The Job of Journey-work." (Johnson's Museum, 1796.) Altho' my back be at the wa', And tho' he be the fautor ; a Altho' my back be at the wa', Yet, here's his health in water. O wae gae by his wanton sides, Sae brawlie's he could flatter ; Till for his sake I'm slighted sair, And dree b the kintra clatter : But tho' my back be at the wa,' Yet here's his health in water ! [Another verse of this song, although not in the poet's handwriting, was found among the numerous scraps which were forwarded to the late Mr Pickering ; but as its genuineness cannot be ascertained, we consign it to small type : — He follow'd me baith out an' in — The deil haet could I baffle'm ! He follow'd me baith out an' in, Thro' a' the neuks o' Mauchlin : And whan he gat me in his grips, Sae brawly did he flatter, That had a saint been in my stead, She'd been as great a fautor : But let them say or let them do, Here's Robin's health in water ! a defaulter. b dread. *r. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 255 Stenliouse, in his note to this song, states that Bums threw it off in jocular allusion to his own and Jean Armour's awkward predicament before their marriage. Allan Cunningham, however, denounces the suggestion as barbarous and insulting to both the lovers. For our part, we see no flagrant inaptitude in the conjecture of Stenliouse.] ADDRESS TO THE UNCO GUID, OR THE RIGIDLY RIGHTEOUS. (Edinburgh Ed., 1787.) My Son, these maxims make a rule, An' lump them ay thegither ; The Rigid Righteous is a fool, The Rigid Wise anither : The cleanest corn that e'er was dight May hae some pyles o' caff in ; So ne'er a fellow-creature slight For random fits o' daffin. Solomon. — Eccles. ch. vii. verse 16. YE wha are sae guid yoursel, Sae pious and sae holy, Ye've nought to do but mark and tell Your neibours' fauts and folly ! Whase life is like a weel-gaun mill, Supplied wi' store o' water ; The heapet happer's ebbing still, An' still the clap plays clatter. Hear me, ye venerable core, As counsel for poor mortals That frequent pass douce Wisdom's door For glaikit a Folly's portals : » thoughtless. 25 G POEMS AND SONGS. [17S6. I, for their thoughtless, careless sakes, Would here propone defences — Their donsie b tricks, their black mistakes, Their failings and mischances. Ye see your state wi' theirs compared, And shudder at the niffer ; c But cast a moment's fair regard, What maks the mighty differ ? Discount what scant occasion gave. That purity ye pride in ; And (what's aft mair than a' the lave) d Your better art o' hidin. Think, when your castigated pulse Gies now and then a wallop ! What ragings must his veins convulse, That still eternal gallop ! Wi' wind and tide fair i' your tail, Right on ye scud your sea-way ; But in the teeth o' baith to sail, It maks an unco lee-way. See Social Life and Glee sit down, All joyous and unthinking, Till, quite transmugrify'd, they're grown Debauchery and Drinking : would they stay to calculate Th' eternal consequences ; Or your more dreaded hell to state, Damnation of expenses ! b unlucky. c exchange. d others. •et. 28.] POEMS AND SOXGS. 257 Ye high, exalted, virtuous dames, Tied up in godly laces, Before ye gie poor Frailty names, Suppose a change o' cases ; A dear-lov'd lad, convenience snuof, A treach'rous inclination ; But, let me whisper i' your lug, Ye're aiblins e nae temptation. Then gently scan your brother man, Still gentler sister woman ; Tho' they may gang a kennin f wrang, To step aside is human : One point must still be greatly dark, The moving Why they do it ; And just as lamely can ye mark, How far perhaps they rue it. "Who made the heart, 'tis He alone Decidedly can try us ; He knows each chord, its various tone, Each spring, its various bias : Then at the balance let's be mute, We never can adjust it ; What's done we partly may compute, But know not what's resisted. [This is pre-eminently one of those poems whose lines become " mottoes of the heart." In all likelihood, the period in Burns' life we have now reached, in the order of our chronology, was the date of its composition: yet it is rather remarkable that he withheld it from publication ill his Kilmarnock edition of that year. There is a prose inserted in his Common-place Book, under date March 1784, in which the line of reflection and argument is very similar to thai in this poem. The pasa being Bomewhat lengthy, we refer the reader to it in another portion of this work.] c pel haps. ' admittedly. 1. R 258 POEMS AND SONGS. t 1 " 86 - THE INVENTORY; IN ANSWER TO A MANDATE BY THE SURVEYOR OF THE TAXES. (ClJRRIE, 1800, COMPD. WITH STEWART, 1801.) Sir, as your mandate did request, I send you here a faithfu' list, O' gudes an' gear, a an' a' my 1 graith, b To which I'm clear to gi'e 2 my aith. Imprimis, then, for carriage cattle, I hae four hrutes o' gallant mettle, As ever drew before a pettle. c My hand 3 -afores d a guid auld ' has been,' An' wight an' wilfu' a' his days been : My hand 4 -akin' 's e a weel gaun 5 fillie, That aft has borne me hame frae Killie,* An' your auld borough mony a time, In days when riding was nae crime. [But ance, when in my wooing pride I, like a blockhead, boosts to ride, The wilfu' creature sae I pat to, (L — d pardon a' my sins, an' that too !) I play'd my fillie sic a shavie, She's a' bedevil'd wi' the spavie.] My furr-ahiris* 1 a wordy 6 beast, As e'er in tug or tow was traced. a substantial of any kind. b accoutrements. ° plough-stick. d fore-horse on the left-hand in the plough. — R. B. e hindmost on the left-hand in the plough. — R. B. 1 Kilmarnock. — R. B. s behoved. h hindmost-horse on the right-hand in the plough. — R. B. *t. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 259 The fourth's a Highland Donald hastie, A d — n'd red-wud 1 Kilburnie blastie ! Foreby a cowt,i o' cowts the wale, As ever ran before a tail : Gin he be spar'd to be a beast, He'll draw me fifteen pimd at least. Wheel-carriages I ha'e but few, Three carts, an' twa are feckly k new; An auld wheelbarrow, mair for token, Ae leg an' baith the trams are broken ; I made a poker o' the spin'le, An' my auld mither brunt the trin'le. 1 For men, I've three mischievous boys, Run-deils for ranting an' for noise ; A gaudsman * ane, a thrasher t' other : Wee Davock hauds the nowt m in f other. I rule them as I ought, discreetly, An' aften labour them completely ; An' ay on Sundays duly, nightly, I on the " Questions " targe n them tightly ; Till, faith ! wee Davock's grown 7 sae gleg," Tho' scarcely langer than your leg, He'll screed P you aff Effectual Calling,*! As fast as ony in the dwalling. I've nane in female servan' station, (L— d keep me ay frae a' temptation !) I hae nae wife — and that my bliss is, An' ye have laid nae tax on misses ; ' stark-mad. 1 colt. k hardly. ' wheel. Jn cattle. " cross-question. ° sharp. '' repeat. .1 prominent question and answer in the church catechism. * A driver of the plough team : the name is derived from the practice of using a gaud or prick in some countries where oxen are yoked to the plough. 2 GO POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. An' then, if kirk folks dinna clutch me, I ken the deevils darena touch me. Wi' 8 weans I'm mair than weel contented, Heav'n sent me ane mair than I wanted : My sonsie, 1 " smirking, dear-bought Bess, 3 She stares the daddy in her face, Enough of ought ye like but grace . But her, my bonie, sweet wee lad}-, I've paid enough for her already ; An' gin ye tax her or her mither, By the L — d, ye'se get them a' thegither ! And now, remember, Mr Aiken, Nae kind of licence out I'm takin : [Frae this time forth, I do declare I'se ne'er ride horse nor hizzie mair ;] Thro' dirt and dub for life I'll paidle,* Ere I sae dear pay for a saddle ; My travel a', on foot I'll shank it, I've sturdy bearers, Gude be thankit ! 9 [The kirk and you may tak' you that, It puts but little in your pat ; Sae dinna put me in your beuk, Nor for my ten white shillings leuk.] This list, wi' my ain hand I wrote it, The day and date as under noted ; Then know all ye whom it concerns, Subscvipsi huic, Robert Burns. Mossgiel, February 22, 1786. [In May 1785, with a view to liquidate ten millions of unfunded debt, Mr Pitt made a large addition to the number of taxed articles, and amongst these were female-servants. It became the duty of Mr r plump. 8 see note, page 74. * pick my steps. *t. 28.] rOEMS AND SONGS. 261 Aiken, as tax-surveyor for the district, to serve the usual notice on Burns, who on receipt of it made his return in the verses which form our text. Several passages, here marked with brackets, were omitted by Currie ; these are supplied from Stewart. The other variations are as follows : — 1 My horses, servants, carts, and graith. 2 free to tak. 3 lan'-afore. 4 lan'-ahin'. 5 gude brown. 6 gude grey. 7 turn'd. 8 For. 9 I've sturdy stumps, the Lord be thankit ! And a' my gates, on foot I'll shank it.] TO JOHN KENNEDY, DUMFRIES HOUSE. (Cunningham's Ed., 1834.) Now, Kennedy, if foot or horse E'er bring you in by Mauchlin corse, (Lord, man, there's lasses there wad force A hermit's fancy ; An' down the gate in faith they're worse, An' mair unchancy.) But as I'm sayin, please step to Dow's, An' taste sic gear as Johnie brews, Till some bit callan bring me news That ye are there ; An' if we dinna hae a bouze, I'se ne'er drink mair. It's no I like to sit an' swallow, Then like a swine to puke an' wallow ; But gie me just a true good fallow, Wi' right ingine, And spunkie ance to mak us mellow, An' then we'll shine. Now if ye're ane o' warl's folk, Wha rate the wearer by the cloak, 262 POEMS AND SONGS. [17S6. An' sklent on poverty their joke, Wi' bitter sneer, Wi' you nae friendship I will troke, Nor cheap nor dear. But if, as I'm informed weel, Ye hate as ill's the vera deil The flinty heart that canna feel — Come, sir, here's to you ! Hae, there's my haun, I wiss you weel, An' gude be wi' you. ROBT. BlTRNESS. Mossgiel, 3rd March, 1786. [The above lines, collated with the original MS., obligingly communi- cated by its present possessor, John Adam, Esq., Greenock, form the concluding portion of a letter addressed to Kennedy in reply to a re- quest from him to be favoured with a perusal of the "Cottar's Saturday Night." The poet immediately complied by sending his only copy of that poem ; merely requesting his correspondent to make a copy, and return either the original or the transcript. It appears now to be certain that Kennedy adopted the latter course, and retained the holograph, which, along with several letters addressed by Burns to Kennedy, was purchased, about forty years ago, by Mr Cochrane, the London publisher, and by him pi-esented to Allan Cunningham. Kennedy in 1786 was factor to Patrick, the last Earl of Dumfries, resident at Dumfries House, about half-way between Ochiltree and Auchinleck. In the old Calton burial-ground at Edinburgh, we recently stumbled on the grave-stone of Burns' early friend ; from which we transfer the following inscription ; — " In memory of John Kennedy, who died at Edinburgh 19th June 1812, aged 55. He was 13 years Factor to the Earl of Dumfries, and 18 to the Earl of Breadalbine." He thus would be born about two years before our bard.] ST. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 263 TO Mr M'ADAM, OF CRAIGEN-GILLAN, IN ANSWER TO AN OBLIGING LETTER HE SENT IN THE COMMENCEMENT OF MY POETIC CAREER. (Cromek, 1808.) Sir, o'er a gill I gat your card, I trow it made me proud ; ' See wha taks notice o' the bard ! ' I lap and cry'd fu' loud. Now deil-ma-care about their jaw, The senseless, gawky a million ; I'll cock my nose aboon them a', I'm roos'd b by Craigen-Gillan ! 'Twas noble, sir ; 'twas like yoursel, To grant your high protection : A great man's smile ye ken fu' well, Is ay a blest infection. Tho', by his c banes wha in a tub Match 'd Macedonian Sandy ! On my ain legs thro' dirt and dub, I independent stand ay, — And when those legs to gude, warm kail, Wi' welcome canna bear me, A lee dyke-side, a sy bow- tail/ 1 An' barley-scone shall cheer me. ■ silly. b praised. ° Diogenes. d leek. 204 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. Heaven spare you lang to kiss the breath O' mony flow'ry simmers ! An' bless your bonie lasses baith, I'm tauld they're loosome kimmers ! e An' God bless young Dunaskin's laird, The blossom of our gentry ! An' may he wear an auld man's beard, A credit to his country. [About March 1786 we suppose to have been the date of the above vei'ses. The poet thought so well of this little production, that he included it in the Glenriddell collection of his early poems, where he states that it was an extempore composition, " wrote in Nanse Tinnock's, Mauchline." Craigengillan is a considerable estate in Carrick. Mr David Woodburn, factor for its owner, was on such friendly terms with Burns, that he received from him a copy of the celebrated cantata, " The Jolly Beggars " — the same which afterwards passed into the hands of Thomas Stewart, the publisher. But another account states that Stewart got the copy directly from Mr John Rich- mond of Mauchline, who was his uncle. See note to " Jolly Beggars. - '] TO A LOUSE. ON SEEING ONE ON A LADY'S BONNET AT CHURCH. (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) Ha ! whaur ye gaun, ye crowlin 1 ferlie ? a Your impudence protects you sairlie ; I canna say but ye strunt b rarely, Owre gauze and lace; Tho' faith ! I fear, ye dine 2 but sparely On sic a place. e loveable queans. a wonder. b strut. -* T - 2S -1 POEMS AXD SOXGS. 2 Go Ye ugly, creepin, blastet wonner, c Detested, shunn'd by saunt an' sinner, How daur ye set your 3 fit upon her — Sae fine a lady ? Gae 4 somewhere else, and seek your dinner Ou some poor body. Swith ! d 5 in some beggar's hauffet e squattle, Wi' ither kindred, jumping cattle ; 6 There ye may creep, and sprawl, and sprattle, In shoals and nations ; Whaur horn nor bane f ne'er daur unsettle Your thick plantations. Now haud you there, ye're out o' sight, Below the fatt'rels,§ snug and tight ; Na, faith 7 ye yet ! ye'll no be right, Till ye've got on it — The vera tapmost, tow'rin 8 height 0' Miss's bonnet. My sooth ! right bauld ye set your nose out, As plump an' grey as ony groset : h for some rank, mercurial rozet, Or fell, red smeddum, 1 I'd gie you sic a hearty dose o't, Wad dress your droddum ! J 1 wad na been surpris'd to spy You on an auld wife's flannen toy ; k ' imlweller. ' begone ! e side of the head. ' small-toothed comb. I folds, or puckerings. h gooseberry. ' pungent stuff. ' breech. k old fashioned cap. 266 POEMS AND SONGS. [178G. Or aiblins 19 some bit duddie boy, On's wyliecoat ; m But Miss's fine Lunardi ! n fye ! How daur ye do't ? O Jeany, 10 dinna toss your head, An' set your beauties a' abreid ! Ye little ken what cursed speed The blastie's makin : Thae winks an' finger-ends, I dread, Are notice takin. O wad some Power the giftie gie us To see oursel 11 as ithers see us ! It wad frae mony a blunder free us, An' foolish notion : What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us, An' ev'n devotion ! [The author was fond of selecting the lower animals as subjects for his ruuse. "We have already seen how much he made of the pet-ewe, the disabled mare, the two dogs, the field-mouse ; and now he extracts a wholesome moral from the most hated little animal in nature. Some admirers of Burns have expressed a wish that this poem had never been written ; but the last stanza soon became a world-wide pro- verbial quotation ; and if poetical merit were to be estimated by such notoriety, this piece would rank very high. We have had collated with the author's text a MS. copy in the Bodleian Library, Oxford, and have adopted a few of its readings as better than the usual version. We note the following variations : — The title in the MS. reads, " On seeing a Louse on a young Lady's Bonnet at Church." : blasted. 2 feet. 3 a fit. 4 Swith. 5 Gae, transposed with ( 4 ). 6 Second and third lines transposed. 7 haith. 8 upmost, topmost. 9 Maybe. 10 Jenny, 11 oursels. 1 perhaps. m under-jacket. n balloon-shaped bonnet.* * "Vincent Lunardi, on September 15, 1784, ascended from London in an air-balloon — the earliest attempt in Britain ; and on 5th October 1785, he performed a like feat from Heriot's Green, at Edinburgh. ax 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 267 INSCRIBED ON A WORK OF HANNAH MORE'S, PRESENTED TO THE AUTHOR BY A LADY. (Cunningham's Ed., 1S34.) Thou flatt'ring mark of friendship kind, Still may thy pages call to mind The dear, the beauteous, donor ; Tho' sweetly female ev'ry part, Yet such a head, and more— the heart Does both the sexes honor : She show'd her taste refin'd and just, When she selected thee ; Yet deviating, own I must, For sae approving me : But kind still I'll mind still The giver in the gift ; I'll bless her, an' wiss her A Friend aboon the left. [The poet enclosed a copy of this inscription in a letter to Mr Robert Aiken, dated 3rd April 1786. His plan of publishing a volume of his poems at Kilmarnock was then completed, for he says to his friend and patron, — "My proposals for publishing I am just going to send to the press." It is very remarkable that no biographer or editor of I U i ins has ever stated or suggested the name of the lady, "Mrs C," wlio showed that mark of early attention to Burns, although he refers to ii as " the second flattering instance of Mrs C.'s notice and approbation." Upon no authority beyond reasonable surmise, we venture to say that the lady was Mrs Cuuninghame of Enterkin, a daughter of Mrs Stewart of Stair, and a distant relative of Mr Aiken. On 20th March, the poet had written to Robert Muir of Kilmarnock, hoping to have the pleasure of seeing him there, "before we hear the gowk." That was, of course, to arrange about t lie printing of his poems ; and it is very likely that when he went to K ilmarnock he had his poem of the " Ordination," and perhaps of a sketch of the "Holy Fair" also, in his pocket, both of tliu.se pieces being closely associated with the clerical history of that town. In the face of a chronological line closely linked and well defined, 268 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. v^hicli runs through tins portion of the poet's life and labours, some vain gossipers have had the temerity to assert that Burns, before getting his poems printed in Kilmarnock, had proceeded to Glasgow, and entered into some negotiations with Brash & Beid, printers there. Not a tittle of evidence for this has been adduced ; and it is a pity to see the con- secutive course of the poet's biography disturbed by the introduction of such manifest fables.] THE HOLY FAIR* (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) A robe of seeming truth and trust Hid crafty observation ; And secret hung, with poison'd crust, The dirk of defamation : A mask that like the gorget show'd, Dye-varying on the pigeon ; And for a mantle large and broad, He wrapt him in Religion. Hypocrisy a-la-mode. Upon 1 a simmer Sunday morn, When Nature's face is fair, I walked forth to view the corn, An' snuff the caller a air. The rising sun owre Galston muirs Wi' glorious light was glintin ; The hares were hirplin h down the furrs, The lav'rocks they were chantin Fu' sweet that day. As lightsomely I glowr'd abroad, To see a scene sae gay, Three hizzies, early at the road, Cam skelpin up the way. fresh. b limping. ° wenches. * "Holy Fair" is a common phrase in the west of Scotland for a sacra- mental occasion. — R. B. XT. 28.] POEMS AXD SOSGS. 2G9 Twa had manteeles o' dolefu' black, But aue wi' lyart d lining ; The third, that gaed a wee a-back, Was in the fashion shining, Fu' gay 2 that day. The twa appear'd like sisters twin, In feature, form, an' claes ; Their visage 3 wither'd, lang an' thin, An' sour as ony slaes : The third cam up, hap-stap-an'-lowp, As light as ony lambie, An' wi' a curchie low did stoop, As soon as e'er she saw me, Fu' kind that day. Wi' bonnet aff, quoth I, 4 " Sweet loss, I think ye seem to ken me ; I'm sure I've seen that bonie face, But yet I canna name ye." Quo' she, an' laughin as she spak, An' taks me by the hands, " Ye, for my sake, hae gien 5 the feck e Of a' the ten commands A screed f some day." " My name is Fun — your cronie dear, The nearest friend ye haej An' this is Superstition here, An' that's Hypocrisy. I'm gaun to Mauchline 'holy fair,' To spend an hour in daffin :& (liii ye'll go there, yon runkl'd pair, We will get famous laughin At them this day." d grey. c greater portion, rend. ' Bport. 270 POEMS AND SONGS. [17S6. Quoth I, " Wi' a' my heart, I'll do't ; I'll get my Sunday's sark on, An' meet you on the holy spot ; Faith, we'se hae fine remarkin !" 7 Then I gaed hame at crowdie-time, 11 An' soon I made me ready; For roads were clad, frae side to side, Wi' mony a wearie body, In droves that day. Here farmers gash, 1 in ridin graith,J Gaed hod din k by their cotters ; There swankies 1 young, in braw braid-claith, Are springin 8 ovvre the gutters. The lasses, skelpin m barefit, thrang, In silks an' scai'lets glitter ; Wi' sweet-milk cheese, in mony a whang, n An' farls, bak'd wi' butter, Fu' crump that day. When by the ' plate' we set our nose, Weel heaped up wi' ha'pence, A greedy glowr ' black-bonnet 'P throws, An' we maun draw our tippence. Then in we go to see the show : On ev'ry side they're gath'rin ; Some carryin dails, some chairs an' stools, An' some are busy bletli'rin^ Eight loud that day. Here stands a shed to fend r the show'rs, An' screen our countra gentry ; h breakfast-time. i sagacious. ' attire. k jolting. 1 strapping fellows. m hastening. n thick slice. ° cakes of shortbread. r by-name for an elder. q talking nonsense. r ward off. -*-t. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 271 There 'Racer Jess,' 9 * an' twa-three wh-res, Are blinkin at 10 the entry. Here sits a raw o' tittlin jads, Wi' heavin breasts an' bare neck ; An' there a batch o' wabster lads, 11 Blackguardin frae Kilmarnock, For fun this day. Here some are thinkin on their sins, An' some upo' 12 their claes ; Ane curses feet that fyl'd his shins, Anither sighs an' prays : On this hand sits a chosen 13 swatch, 3 Wi' screw'd-up, grace-proud 14 faces ; On that a set o' chaps, at 15 watch, Thrang winkin on the lasses To chairs that day. happy is that man, an' blest ! Nae wonder that it pride him ! Whase ain dear lass, that he likes 16 best, Comes clinkin down beside him ! Wi 5 arm repos'd on the chair back, He sweetly does compose him ; AYhich, by degrees, slips round her neck, An's loof upon her bosom, Unkend that day.-f* sample. * February 181.3, died at Maucldine, Janet (Jibson — the "Racer Jess" of Burns' "Holy Fair," remarkable for her pedestrian feats. She was a daughter of " Poosie Nansie" who ligures in "The jolly Beggars." — Neios- paper obituary. ■(-"This verse sets boldly out with a line of a psalm. It is the best description ever was drawu. ' Unkeud that day' surpasses all." — James Hogg. 272 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. Now a' 17 the congregation o'er Is silent 18 expectation; For Moodie speels 19 the holy door,* Wi' tidings o' damnation : 20 -f* Should Hornie, as in ancient days, 'Mang sons o' God present him, The vera sight o' Moodie's 21 face, To 's ain het hame 22 had sent him Wi' fright that day. Hear how he clears the points o' Faith Wi' rattlin and thumpin ! Now meekly calm, now wild in wrath, He's stampin, an' he's jumpin ! His lengthen'd chin, his turned-up snout, His eldritch* squeel an' gestures, how they fire the heart devout, Like cautharidian plaisters On sic a day ! But hark ! the tent has chang'd its voice ; There's peace an' rest nae langer ; For a' the real judges rise, They canna sit for anger, Smith I opens out 23 his cauld harangues, On practice and on 24 morals ; * unearthly. * Eev. Alexander Moodie of Kiccarton, one of the heroes of the " Tvva Herds." His personal appearance and style of oratory are not here carica- tured by the poet. Trans, from Culross 1762. Died Feb. 15, 1799. t Altered from "salvation," by suggestion of Dr Hugh Blair. t Rev. George (subsequently Dr) Smith of Galston, referred to in the " Twa Herds " and also in the " Kirk's Alarm." Ord. 1778. Died 1823. asv. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 273 An' aff the godly pour in thrangs, To gie the jars an' barrels A lift that day. What signifies his barren shine, Of mora] pow'rs an' reason ? 25 His English style, an' gesture fine Are a' clean out o' season. Like Socrates or Antonine, Or some auld pagan 26 heathen, The moral man he does define, But ne'er a word o' faith in That's right that day. In guid time comes an antidote Against sic poison'd nostrum ; For Peebles,""" frae the water-fit, 27 Ascends the holy rostrum : See, up he's got the word o' God, An' meek an' mim has view'd it, While ' Common-sense ' u has taen the road, An' aff, an' up the Cowgate j" Fast, fast that day. Wee Miller I niest, the Guard relieves, An' Orthodoxy raibles, v Tho' in his heart he weel believes, An' thinks it auld wives' fables : u See foot-note to "The Ordination." v holds forth in a humdrum way. * Rev. Win. Peebles of "The Water-fit," or Newton-upon-Ayr. Or J. 1778, made a O.D. in 1795, and died in 1825, aged 74. t A street so called which faces the tent in Mauchline. — R. B. * Rev. Alex. Miller, afterwards of Kilmaurs, a short, pauilchy man, supposed to be at heart a "moderate." "This stanza," says Chambers, "virtually the most depreciatory in the poem, is said to have retarded Miller's advancement." Ord. in Kilmaurs 1788. Died in 1804. I. S 274- POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. But faith ! the birkie wants a manse, So, cannilie he hums them ; Altho' his carnal wit an' sense Like hafflins-wise o'ercomes him At times that day. Now butt an' ben the change-house fills, Wi' yill-caup commentators ; Here's cryin out for bakes an' gills, An' there the pint-stowp clatters ; While thick an' thrang, an' loud an' lang, Wi' logic an' wi' scripture, They raise a din, that in the end Is like to breed a rupture 0' wrath that day. Leeze me on drink ! it gies us mair Than either school or college ; It ken'les wit, it waukens lear, w It pangs x us fou o' knowledge : Be't whisky-gill or penny-wheep, Or ony stronger potion, It never fails, on drinkin deep, To kittle up our notion, By night or day. The lads an' lasses, blythely bent To mind baith saul an' body, 23 Sit round the table, weel content, An' steer about the toddy : 29 On this ane's dress, an' that ane's leuk, They're makin observations ; w learning. x crams. jet. 28.] POEMS AND SONU-S. 275 While some are cozie i' the neuk, An' forming assignations To meet some day. But now the L — 's ain trumpet touts, Till a' the hills are rairin/ And echoes back-return the shouts ; Black Russell 30 is na spairin : * His piercin words, like highlan' 31 swords, Divide the joints an' marrow ; His talk o' Hell, whare devils dwell, Our vera " sauls does harrow " *f* Wi' fright that day ! A vast, unbottom'd, boundless pit, Fill'd fou o' lowin brunstane, Whase ragin flame, an' scorch in heat, Wad melt the hardest whun-stane ! The half-asleep start up wi' fear, An' think they hear it roarin ; When presently it does appear, 'Twas but some neibor snorin Asleep that day. 'Twad be owre lang a tale to tell, How mony stories past ; An how they crouded to the yill, When they were a' dismist ; How drink 32 gaed round, in cogs 33 an' caups, Amang the furms an' benches ; y roaring with echo. * Rev. John Russell, one of the " Twa Herds," and " Rumble John " of the Kir/c'x Alarm. Ord. in Kilmarnock 1774. Called to Stirling 1800. + Shakespeare's " Hamlet."— R. B. 276 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. An* cheese an' bread, frae women's laps, Was dealt about in lunches, An' dawds that day. In comes a gawsie, z gash a guidwife, An' sits down by the fire, Syne 34 draws her kebbuck b an' her knife ; The lasses they are shyer : The auld guidmen, about the grace, Frae side to side they bother ; Till some ane by his bonnet lays, An' gies them't, like a tether, Fu' lang that day. Waesucks ! c for him that gets nae lass, Or lasses that hae naething ! Sma' need has he to say a grace, Or melvie d his braw claithing ! wives, be mindfu ' ance yoursel How bonie lads ye wanted ; An' dinna for a kebbuck-heel e Let lasses be affronted On sic a day I Now ' Clinkumbell,' wi' rattlin tow, Begins to jow an' croon ; 35 Some swagger hame the best they dow, Some wait the afternoon. At slaps f the billies halt a blink, Till lasses strip their shoon : Wi' faith an' hope, an' love an' drink, They're a' in famous tune For crack that day. z jolly. a sagacious. b cheese. c Alas. d soil with meal. e end of a cheese. f stiles. JRT. 2S.] POEMS AND SONGS. 277 How mony hearts this day converts O' sinners and o' lasses ! Their hearts o' stane, gin night, are gane As saft as ony flesh is : There's some are fou o' love divine ; There's some are fou o' brandy ; An' mony jobs that day begin, May end in ' hough magandie ' Some ither day. [Mi* Lockhart, after commending the " Cottar's Saturday Night," in eloquent terms, makes this observation, — " That the same man should have produced that poem and the 'Holy Fair' about the same time, will ever continue to move wonder and regret." But the world's "regret" in this matter has been very evanescent; for, although the abuses and absurdities here censured, in connexion with rural celebra- tions of the communion, have happily disappeared, it cannot be said that the lessons conveyed in the satire are no longer necessary. Mr Lockhart has farther observed that had Burns "taken up the subject of this rural communion in a solemn mood, he might have pro- duced a piece as gravely beautiful as his ' Holy Fair' is quaint, graphic, and picturesque. Nay," adds the critic, "I can easily imagine a scene of family worship to have come from his hand as pregnant with the ludicrous as the ' Holy Fair ' itself." In these circumstances, we cannot be too thankful that Burns followed his own instincts in the mode of treating both subjects. The communion was administered at Mauchline in those days but once a year, namely, on the second Sunday of August ; and Chambers, considering that any portion of the year 1785 was too early a date for this composition, sets it down as being nearly the last piece produced by Burns prior to the publication of his poems in July 1786. The " ( )rdi nation" was certainly a production of February of that year, and we feel bound to regard " The Holy Fair " as a riper performance, com- posed somewhat farther on in the season. We must therefore discard, as utterly improbable, the recently promulgated story, that the present poem underwent a formal reading by its author in Nanse Tinnock's pulilielion.se, in the audience, inter alia, of Jean Armour, and the poet's younger brother William. The rupture between Jean and her lover took place about the end of March 1 7Mi,* after which period such a meeting as the story describes * On 15th April, the poet thus wrote regarding Jean — " I had not a hope, nor even a wish, to make her mine after her conduct." 278 POEMS AND SONGS. t 1 " 86 - ■was simply impossible. Another strong presumption that this poem was composed after February 1786 arises from the fact that the poet in his letter to Eichmond on 17th of that month, asks his friend to forward to him from Edinburgh a copy of Fergusson's poems. In the opening of the " Holy Fair," Fergusson's " Leith Eaces " is evidently closely followed as a model ; an imaginary being called " Mirth " conducts the Edinburgh poet to the scene of enjoyment, exactly as "Fun" in this poem conveys Burns to " Mauchline Holy Fair." * The following variations are taken from an early MS. of this poem, now preserved in the British Museum : — 1 'twas on. 2 braw. 3 faces. 4 qothie. 5 broke. 6 By night or clay. 7 Qothie I'll get my tither coat, And on my Sunday's sark ; An' meet ye in the yard without At op'nin o' the wark. 8 spangin. 9 Bet B r. l0 sit blinkin. u brawds. 12 an' ithers. 13 goodey. " an elect (1st Ed. ) 14 wi' mercy-beggin. is on . i« loves. 17 But now. 18 husht in. 19 Sawnie climbs. 20 salvation (1st Ed.) 31 Sawnie's. 22 To Hell wi' speed. 23 Geordie begins. 24 of. 25 It's no nae gospel truth divine, To cant o' sense an' reason. 26 wicked. 27 for Fairy Willy Water-fit. 28 Their lowin' drouth to quench. 29 punch. 30 Black Jock, he. 31 twae-edged. 32 yill. 33 jugs. 34 then. 35 Then Robin Gib, wi' weary jow, Begins to clink and croon. * Lockhart also contends that the " Holy Fair" was the last and best of that series of satires wherein the same set of persons were lashed. "Here," says that critic, "unlike the others that have been mentioned, satire keeps its own place, and is subservient to the poetry of Burns. This is indeed an extraordinary performance ; no partizan of any sect can whisper that malice has formed its principal inspiration, or that its chief attraction lies in the boldness with which individuals, entitled and accustomed to respect, are held up to ridicule. Immediately on its publication, it was acknow- ledged (amidst the sternest mutterings of wrath) that national manners were once more in the hands of a National Poet." *rr. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 279 SONG, COMPOSED IN SPRING. Tune — " Johnny's Grey Breeks." (Edinburgh Ed., 1787.) Again rejoicing Nature sees Her robe assume its vernal hues : Her leafy locks wave in the breeze, All freshly steep'd in morning dews. Chorus. — And maun I still on Menie doat, And bear the scorn that's in her e'e ? For it's jet, jet-black, an' it's like a hawk, An' it winna let a body be.* In vain to me the cowslips blaw, In vain to me the vi'lets spring ; In vain to me in glen or shaw, The mavis and the lintwhite sing. And maun I still, &C. The merry ploughboy cheers his team, Wi' joy the tentie seedsman stalks; But life to me 's a weary dream, A dream of ane that never wauks. And maun I still, &c. The wanton coot the water skims, Amang the reeds the ducklings cry, The stately swan majestic swims, And ev'ry thing is blest but L And maun I still, &c. * This chorus is part of a song composed by a gentleman in Edinburgh, a particular friend of the author's. Menie is the common abbreviation of Mariamne. — It. B. More correctly, it is the abbreviate of Marion. 2 SO POEMS AND SONGS. [178G. The sheep-herd steeks his faulding slap, And o'er the moorlands whistles shill ; Wi' wild, unequal, wand'ring step, I meet him on the dewy hill. And maun I still, &c. And when the lark, 'tween light and dark, Blythe waukens by the daisy's side, And mounts and sings on flittering wings, A woe-worn ghaist I hameward glide. And maun I still, &c. Come winter, with thine angry howl, And raging, bend the naked tree ; Thy gloom will soothe my cheerless soul, When nature all is sad like me ! And maun I still, &c. [The author must have had a very special reason for the retention, through all his own editions, of this chorus, apparently so inappropriate to the sentiment of the song. His main purpose was to shew that slighted love was the cause of his mourning ; and he told the truth in his foot-note about the chorus being " part of a song composed by a gentleman in Edinburgh, a particular friend of the author's." This " gentleman in Edinburgh " was none other than the bard himself, who of course was his own " particular friend ; " and the substitution of the name " Menie " for Jeanie was a necessary part of the little ruse he chose here to adopt. In like manner, he poured forth about the same time his " Lament occasioned by the unfortunate issue of a friend's amour." The pride of Burns seems to have been galled to the extreme by the position assumed by Jean and her parents, at the time when the poet's acknowledgment of a private marriage with Jean was formally torn up in scorn. The chorus of this song, however jarring it may seem to the mere reader of the text, has no such effect when sung in slowish time along with the body of the song, to the tune actually chaunted by the poet when in the act of composing it. Gray's " Elegy " was present in his thoughts, while engaged with this composition, as well as that which immediately follows ; and indeed the poet acknowledges this in his note to Kennedy which enclosed the "Mountain Daisy." The similarity between verse sixth of this song and verse second of the " Daisy," needs no pointing out.] JPT. 25.] POEMS AND SONGS. 281 TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY. ON TURNING ONE DOWN WITH THE PLOUGH, IN APRIL 1780. (Kilmarnock Ed., 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, Thou bonie gem. Alas ! it's no thy neibor sweet, The bonie lark, companion meet, Bending thee 'mang the dewv weet, Wi' spreckl'd breast ! When upward-springing, blythe, to greet The purpling east. Cauld blew the bitter-biting north Upon thy early, humble birth ; Yet cheerfully thou glinted a forth 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 ; But thou, beneath the random bield b O' clod or stane, Adorns the histie c stibble field, Unseen, alane. a sparkled, b shelter. c dry. 282 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. There, in thy scanty mantle clad, Thy snawie bosom sun -ward spread, Thou lifts thy unassuming head In humble guise ; But now the share uptears thy bed, And low thou lies ! Such is the fate of artless maid, Sweet flow'ret of the rural shade ! By love's simplicity betray'd, And guileless trust ; Till she, like thee, all soil'd, is laid Low i' the dust. Such is the fate of simple bard, On life's rough ocean luckless starr'd ! Unskilful he to note the card Of prudent lore, Till billows rage, and gales blow hard, And whelm him o'er ! Such fate to suffering worth is giv'n, Who long with wants and woes has striv'n, By human pride or cunning driv'n To mis'ry's brink ; Till wrench'd of ev'ry stay but Heav'n, He, ruin'd, sink ! Ev'n thou who mourn'st the Daisy's fate, That fate is thine — no distant date ; Stern Ruin's plough-share drives elate, Full on thy bloom, Till crush'd beneath the furrow's weight, Shall be thy doom ! [On 20th April 1786, our poet enclosed this "little gem" to his friend John Kennedy. In that MS. it is called " The Gowan," a title sub- xr. 2S.] POEMS AND SONGS. 283 sequently changed for the English appellation, as above. He thanks Kennedy for having put his name into Mr Hamilton's list of subscribers, and also for requesting a subscription-paper with a view to gather additional names. Regarding this poem, Burns says, " I am a good deal pleased with some of the sentiments, as they are just the native querulous feelings of a heart which (as the elegantly melting Gray says) 'melancholy has marked for her own.' " It is curious to note that the closing couplet of each of the four concluding verses begins with the same word — " Till." Grahame, the author of " The Sabbath, and other poems," has the following fine apostrophe to the lark, in connexion with the text of this and the preceding poem : — "Thou, simple bird Of all the vocal quire, dwell'st in a home The humblest, yet thy morning song ascends Nearest to heaven ; — sweet emblem of his song Who sung thee wakening by the daisy's side !" We have referred to Gray the poet as having furnished some impulse to Burns in these pieces ; and we are indebted to Dr Carruthers for pointing out that the image in the closing verse of the text is derived from Dr Young : — " Stars rush, and final TCuin fiercely drives His plough-share o'er creation." — Night ix.] TO RUIN. (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) All hail, inexorable lord ! At whose destruction-breathing word, The mightiest empires fall ! Thy cruel, woe-delighted train, The ministers of grief and pain, A sullen welcome, all ! With stern-resolv'd, desj^airing eye, I see each aimed dart ; For one has cut my dearest tie, And quivers in my heart. Then low'ring, and pouring, The storm no more I dread ; Tho' thick'ning, and black'ning, Round my devoted head. 284 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. And thou grim Pow'r by life abhorr'd, While life a pleasure can afford, Oh ! hear a wretch's pray'r ! No more I shrink appall' d, afraid ; I court, I beg thy friendly aid, To close this scene of care ! When shall my soul, in silent peace, Resign life's joyless day — My weary heart its throbbings cease, Cold mould'ring in the clay ? No fear more, no tear more, To stain my lifeless face, Enclasped, and grasped, Within thy cold embrace ! [Here the tone of the closing stanza of the " Daisy " is taken up, and the theme expanded into a little ode. Allan Cunninghan was disposed to see in this piece some reference to apprehended ruin through the failure of the poet's farming efforts at Mossgiel ; but it was the scornful eye of Jean — "jet, jet-black, and like a hawk," that still haunted him ; and he singles out, from the thick-flying darts of destruction around him, the one that . . . . " has cut my clearest tie, And quivers in my heart." In the autobiography, he tells us, in reference to the occasion of the " Lament," that it nearly cost him the loss of his reason. Gilbert adds that "The 'Lament' was composed after the first distraction of his feelings had a little subsided."] «r. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 285 THE LAMENT, OCCASIONED BY THE UNFORTUNATE ISSUE OF A FRIEND'S AMOUR. (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) " Alas ! how oft does goodness wound itself, And sweet affection prove the spring of woe ! " Home. THOU pale orb that silent shines While care-untroubled mortals sleep ! Thou seest a wretch who inly pines, And wanders here to wail and weep ! With woe I nightly vigils keep, Beneath thy wan, unwanning beam ; And mourn, in lamentation deep, How life and love are all a dream ! 1 joyless view thy rays adorn The faintly-marked, distant hill ; I joyless view thy trembling horn, Reflected in the gurgling rill : My fondly-fluttering heart, be still ! Thou busy pow'r, remembrance, cease ! Ah ! must the agonizing thrill For ever bar returning peace ! No idly-feign'd, poetic pains, My sad, love-lorn lamentings claim : No shepherd's pipe — Arcadian strains ; No fabled tortures, quaint and tame. 286 POEMS AND SONGS. L17SG. The plighted faith, the mutual flame, The oft-attested pow'rs above, The promis'd father's tender name ; These were the pledges of my love ! Encircled in her clasping arms, How have the raptur'd moments flown ! How have I wish'd for fortune's charms, For her dear sake, and her's alone ! And, must I think it ! is she gone, My secret heart's exulting boast ? And does she heedless hear my groan ? And is she ever, ever lost ? Oh ! can she bear so base a heart, So lost to honour, lost to truth, As from the fondest lover part, The plighted husband of her youth ? Alas ! life's path may be unsmooth ! Her way may lie thro' rough distress ! Then, who her pangs and pains will soothe, Her sorrows share, and make them less ? Ye winged hours that o'er us pass'd, Enraptur'd more, the more enjoy'd, Your dear remembrance in my breast My fondly-treasur'd thoughts employ 'd : That breast, how dreary now, and void, For her too scanty once of room ! Ev'n ev'ry ray of hope destroy'd, And not a wish to gild the gloom ! The morn, that warns th' approaching day, Awakes me up to toil and woe ; st. 25.] POEMS AND SONGS. 2»7 I see the hours in long array, That I must suffer, lingering slow ; Full many a pang, and many a throe, Keen recollection's direful train, Must wring my soul, ere Phoebus, low, Shall kiss the distant western main. And when my nightly couch I try, Sore harass'd out with care and grief, My toil-beat nerves, and tear- worn eye, Keep watchings with the nightly thief: Or if I slumber, fancy, chief, Reigns, haggard- wild, in sore affright : Ev'n day, all-bitter, brings relief From such a horror-breathing night. thou bright queen, who, o'er th' expanse Now highest reign'st, with boundless sway ! Oft has thy silent-marking glance Observ'd us, fondly- wan d'ring, stray ! The time, unheeded, sped away, While love's luxurious pulse beat high, Beneath thy silver- gleaming ray, To mark the mutual-kindling eye. Oh ! scenes in strong remembrance set ! Scenes, never, never to return ! Scenes, if in stupor I forget, Again I feel, again I burn! From ev'ry joy and pleasure torn, Life's weary vale I'll wander thro' ; And hopeless, comfortless, I'll mourn A faithless woman's broken vow ! [This highly-finished poem contains passages nearly equal to the author's Address to " Mary in heaven." The reader will observe, that 288 POEMS AND SONGS. [1780. every stanza contains four lines that rhyme together, — a feat in versifi- cation which the poem called " A Dream " again exhibits in a twofold degree — a double somersault of rhyme, in short. Dr Currie has referred to the eighth stanza, describing a sleepless night from anguish of mind, as being of very striking excellence. The mere exercise of producing such pieces as those we are now considering helped to soothe the poet's embittered feelings ; and the wholesome excitement in connexion with the printing of his poems completed the cure. The simple-minded James Hogg made a blundering note on this production, through regarding the poet's averment in the title as literally true. He gravely commented on the contents as being a vicari- ous bewailment for the distress of Burns' friend, Alexander Cunning- ham, under his celebrated love-disappointment — a circumstance that happened several years after this poem was published.] DESPONDENCY— AN ODE. (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) Opprkss'd with grief, oppress'd with care, A burden more than I can bear, I set me down and sigh ; O life ! thou art a galling load, Along a rough, a weary road, To wretches such as I ! Dim-backward as I cast my view, What sick'ning scenes appear ! What sorrows yet may pierce me through, Too justly I may fear ! Still caring, despairing, Must be my bitter doom; My woes here shall close ne'er But with the closing tomb ! Happy ! ye sons of busy life, Who, equal to the bustling strife, No other view regard ! -*-t. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 289 Ev'n when the wished end's denied, Yet while the busy means are plied, They bring their own reward : "Whilst I, a hope-abandon' d wight, Unfitted with an aim, Meet ev'ry sad returning night, And joyless morn the same ! You, bustling and justling, Forget each grief and pain ; I, listless, yet restless, Find ev'ry prospect vain. How blest the solitary's lot, Who, all-forgetting, all-forgot, Within his humble cell, The cavern, wild with tangling roots — Sits o'er his newly-gather'd fruits, Beside his crystal well ! Or haply, to his ev'ning thought, By unfrequented stream, The ways of men are distant brought, A faint, collected dream ; While praising, and raising His thoughts to heav'n on high, As wand'ring, meand'ring, He views the solemn sky. Than I, no lonely hermit plac'd Where never human footstep trac'd, Less fit to play the part ; The lucky moment to improve, Ami just to stop, and just to move, With self-respecting art : I. T 290 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. But ah ! those pleasures, loves, and joys, Which I too keenly taste, The solitary can despise — Can want, and yet be blest ! He needs not, he heeds not, Or human love or hate ; Whilst I here must cry here At perfidy ingrate ! O enviable early clays, When dancing thoughtless pleasure's maze, To care, to guilt unknown ! How ill exchang'd for riper times, To feel the follies, or the crimes, Of others, or my own ! Ye tiny elves that guiltless sport, Like linnets in the bush, Ye little know the ills ye court, When manhood is your wish ! The losses, the crosses, That active man engage ; The fears all, the tears all, Of dim declining Age ! [In this poem, the same theme as that pursued through the four pre- ceding pieces is exhausted in a very satisfactory manner. Apparently tired himself of stringing mournful rhymes about Jean's "perfidy ingrate," he sets himself to give his youthful compeers the benefit of his dear-bought experience in such words as these : — " Even when the wished-for end's denied, Yet, while the busy means is plied, These bring their own reward." With enchanting words of the tenderest wisdom, he — only twenty- seven years old — speaks of his own " enviable early days," and then, as if under the sanction of mature age, addresses his young readers thus : — "Ye tiny elves that guiltless sport, Like linnets in the bush ; Ye little know what ills ye court, When manhood is your wish ! " &c. -et. 28.] POEMS AND SOXGS. 291 Meanwhile, Jean had been sent off to Paisley, to avoid seeing her poet- lover, whose heart, like that of Nature herself, abhorred a vacuum. At this juncture — all unobserved — he consoled himself by cultivating a "reciprocal attachment" with a generous-hearted maiden resident in his neighbourhood, whose name he afterwards made immortal by the strength and beauty of his musings over the memory of those stolen interviews.] TO GAVIN HAMILTON, ESQ., MAUCHLINE, RECOMMENDING A BOY. (Cromek, 1808.) Mossgaville, May 3, 1786. I HOLD it, sir, my bounden duty To warn you how that " Master Tootie," Alias, " Laird M'Gaun," "Was here to hire yon lad away 'Bout whom ye spak the tither day, An' wad hae don't aff han' ; a But lest he learn the callan b tricks — An' faith I muckle doubt him — Like scrapin out auld Crummie's nicks, c An' tellin lies about them ; As lieve then, d I'd have then, Your clerkship he should sair, e If sae be ye may be Not fitted otherwhere. Altho' I say't, he's gleg f enough, An' bout a house that's rude an' rough, The boy might learn to swear ; But then wi' you he'll be sae taught, An' get sic fair example straught, I hae na ony fear. ' at once. b boy. c natural rings on the cuw's horns. willingly. e serve. ' .sharp. ti 292 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. Ye'll catechise him, every quirk, An' shore & him weel wi' " hell ; " An' gar him follow to the kirk — Ay when ye gang yoursel. If ye then, maun be then Frae hame this comin Friday, Then please sir, to lea'e, sir, The orders wi' your lady. My word of honour I hae gi'en, In Paisley John's,* 1 that night at e'en, To meet the " warld's worm ; " 1 To try to get the twa to gree, An' name the airles J an' the fee, In legal mode an' form : I ken he weel a snick can draw, k When simple bodies let him ; An' if a Devil be at a', In faith he's sure to get him. To phrase you an' praise you, Ye ken your Laureat scorns : The pray'r still, you share still, Of grateful Minstrel Burns. o* [This off-hand production explains itself. The poet was about to part with one of the boys on his farm, whose services were coveted by " Master Tootie," a dishonest dealer in cows. The boy had also attracted the attention of Gavin Hamilton, and Burns, who much preferred that the boy should serve Hamilton, wrote this note to him by way of warning. In the second verse, the poet has imitated the "Madam Blaize" of Goldsmith — " Her love was sought, I do aver, by twenty beaux and more : The king himself has followed her — when she has walked before." R threaten. h Dow's Inn. * avaricious reptile. J earnest of a bargain. k take advantage by fraud. JX 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 293 In the text, the cowdealer is charged with the dishonest practice of scraping off the natural ridges from the horns of cattle to disguise their age. Another definition of " a sneck-drawer" is a thief who will steal imperceptibly into a house by gently drawing the sneck or bar. The poet has termed Satan a " snick-drawing dog " in the " Address to the Deil." It may please the deil to be informed that Dr Chalmers, in his Scripture readings, applies the same term to the patriarch Jacob.] VERSIFIED REPLY TO AN INVITATION. (Hogg and Motherwell, 1834.) Sir, Yours this moment I unseal, And faith I'm gay and hearty ! To tell the truth and shame the deil, I am as fou as Bartie : But Foorsday, sir, my promise leal, Expect me o' your partie, If on a beastie I can speel, Or hurl in a cartie. Yours, Robert Burns. Machlin, Monday night, 10 o'clock. [From the fact of the poet's name being spelled here with one syllable, we must conclude that it was written after 14th April 1786, when lie first adopted the contracted form. The original MS. which has been long preserved in the Paisley Library, affords no clue to the name of the person thus addressed. The English reader may be here informed that Thursday is, in some parts of Scotland, pronounced as written in line fifth of the verses ; and it is necessary to explain that " Bartie" is one of the many names given to the devil by Ayrshire peasants.] 291 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. SONG— WILL YE GO TO THE INDIES, MY MARY ? Tune. — " Ewe-Bughts, Marion." (Currie, 1800.) Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary, And leave auld Scotia's shore ? Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary, Across th' Atlantic's roar ? sweet grows the lime and the orange, And the apple on the pine ; But a' the charms o' the Indies Can never equal thine. 1 hae sworn by the Heavens to my Mary, I hae sworn by the Heavens to be true ; And sae may the Heavens forget me, When I forget my vow ! O plight me your faith, my Mary, And plight me your lily-white hand ; plight me your faith, my Mary, Before I leave Scotia's strand. We hae plighted our troth, my Mary, In mutual affection to join ; And curst be the cause that shall part us ! The hour and the moment o' time ! [This song, addressed to the living Mary Campbell, was composed at some date apparently from the middle of March to 14th May 1786. Whether she was then serving as a nursery-maid with Gavin Hamilton, in Mauchline, or in service elsewhere, it is impossible to determine. The popular belief is that Mary was byres-woman or an. 28.] POEMS AND SOXGS. 295 dairy-maid at Coilsfield House, when Burns set his affections on her ; but that idea has no foundation that we are aware of, beyond a traditional conjecture, first printed in Chambers's " Scottish Songs," 1829. The tradition naturally took its rise from the fact so tenderly recorded by the poet, that his final tryst with her was in that neighbourhood. Besides the song in our text, one or two others, identified with Mary Campbell as their subject, have been preserved. One of these is a Prayer for Mary's protection during the author's wanderings abroad ; and another indicates that the frowns of fortune had determined him to " cross the raging sea," in order " That Indian wealth may lustre throw- Around my Highland lassie, 0." The poet, in his autobiography, after referring to his distraction caused by Jean's supposed "perfidy," says — "I gave up my part of the farm to my brother, and made what little preparation was hi my power for Jamaica ; but before leaving my native country for ever, I resolved to publish my poems." On 20th March, he arranged to meet Robert Muir at Kilmarnock, to forward that object ; and on 3rd April, he was just " sending his proposals to the press." One would conclude that the work of arranging and preparing his poems for the printer — not to meution his industrious composing of fresh poems to fill the volume — was enough to occirpy his head and hands, without the introduction of the Highland Mary episode at such a time. Nevertheless, he did manage, amid all these engagements, to cultivate the " pretty long tract of reciprocal attachment" which preceded the final parting with Mary on Sunday, 14th May. Such were the strange circumstances under which this song was composed. The inscriptions on the "Highland Mary bible," particularly noticed in connection with the song which follows, are highly suggestive of mystery and secrecy in this rash courtship and inopportune betrothal. In October 1792, the poet offered this lyric to George Thomson as a substitute or companion-song for the " The Ewe-Bughts, Marion " ; but that gentleman did not adopt it. It is not to be understood from the opening line of the song, that Burns asked Mary to accompany him to the West Indies ; for his words to Thomson are, " I took the following farewell of a dear girl."] 296 POEMS AND SONGS. [1780. MY HIGHLAND LASSIE, O. (Johnson's Museum, 1788.) NAE gentle a dames, tho' ne'er sae fair, Shall ever be my muse's care : Their titles a' are empty show ; Gie me my Highland lassie, O. Chorus. — Within the glen sae bushy, Aboon the plain sae rashy, O, I set me down wi' right guid will, To sing my Highland lassie, 0. were yon hills and vallies mine, Yon palace and yon gardens fine ! The world then the love should know 1 bear my Highland lassie, O. But fickle fortune frowns on me, And I maun cross the raging sea ; But while my crimson currents flow, I'll love my Highland lassie, O. Altho' thro' foreign climes I range, I know her heart will never change, For her bosom burns with honor's glow, My faithful Highland lassie, 0. For her I'll dare the billows' roar, For her I'll trace a distant shore, That Indian wealth may lustre throw Around my Highland lassie, 0. :t high-born. *n. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 297 She has my heart, she has my hand, By secret troth and honor's band ! 'Till the mortal stroke shall lay me low, I'm thine, my Highland lassie, 0. Farewell the glen sae bushy, ! Farewell the plain sae rashy, O ! To other lands I now must go, To sing my Highland lassie, O. [The accompanying cuts represent very faithfully the inscriptions and symbolic markings on the bible presented by Burns to Mary at their parting. The printer's date on the title-page is 1782. When Mary died, in October 1786, the volumes were taken care of by her mother, who survived till August 1828. Several years before that event, she had presented the bible to Mary's surviving sister, Anne, the wife of James Anderson, a stone-mason. That generation had passed away, when the precious relic, together with a lock of Highland Mary's hair, turned up at Montreal, in Canada, about the year 1840, whither they had been carried by William Anderson, a son of Mary's sister. Several Scottish residents of that city subscribed and purchased the relics from Anderson, with the object of having them deposited in the poet's monument at Ayr. Accordingly, on 1st January 1841, they were formally handed for this purpose to Provost Limont of Ayr. So early as 1828, Mr Lockhart remarked that Cromek's interesting details of the parting ceremonials which are supposed to have been transacted between the poet and Mary at their final meeting, " have recently been confirmed very strongly by the accidental discovery of a bible presented by Burns to Mary Campbell, in the possession of her surviving sister." He quotes the inscription from Leviticus and St Matthew very accurately, and adds, "that on the blank leaf opposite one of these texts is written — ' Robert Burns, Mossgiel.' " An examination of those sacred relics suggests the probability that poor Mary, on seeing the certain approach of death, had wilfully erased her own name and that of her poet lover, by wetting the writing and drawing her fingers across it, obliterating the surnames as they now appear. The likelihood is, thai Bums, in the whirl of excitement which immediately followed the "Second Sunday of May" L786, forgot his vows to poor Mary, ami that she, heartsore at his aeglect, deleted the names from this touching memorial of their secrel betrothment. 298 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. Notwithstanding all the gossip that has been risked on the subject, our impression is, that — " She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, Feed on her damask cheek " — that, in short, she came to the same conclusion as poor Olivia, in the " Vicar of Wakefield," did :— " The only art To give repentance to her lover, And wring his bosom, is to die." On the fly-leaf of Volume I. of the bible, the name, "Mary Campbell," followed by the poet's mason-mark, had been inscribed : the latter is still nearly entire ; but the name has been almost com- pletely erased, thus : — The corresponding blank -leaf in Volume II. had contained the poet's name and address, with the mason-mark subjoined ; but these also have been subjected to an erasing process ; and now we can only trace as follows : — ^r. 2S.] POEMS AND SONGS. 299 If Mary sunk into the grave without revealing the fact of her be- trothal to Burns, it seems equally certain that Burns never whispered her name to a living soul till three years after her decease. It was only when the surpassing beauty and pathos of his sublime dirge — "To Mary in Heaven," awakened a curiosity which he could not avoid in some degree to satisfy, that he uttered a few vague particulars of her story. It was a mysterious episode in the life of Burns, of which the world can never learn the full facts. We incline to give assent to the utterance of his " spiritual biographer," I>r Waddell : — ' In connection with this there was neither guilt, nor the shadow of guilt on his conscience;" but when we find Burns, after eighteen months' experience of loving wedlock with his own Jean, suddenly appealing to the shade of Mary in these words : — " Seest thou thy lover lowly laid ? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast ? " we feel constrained to say, "if this is not the language of remorse, what is it?"] vol. i. yV77 eCit-t /wW/ w&W 01 n - ^7^^/h^Jirfpy^, ■7to»d:d$.3Z%f 300 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. EPISTLE TO A YOUNG FRIEND. (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) May , 1786. I LANG hae thought, my youthfu' friend, A something to have sent you, Tho' it should serve nae ither end Than just a kind memento : But how the subject-theme may gang, Let time and chance determine ; Perhaps it may turn out a sang ; Perhaps, turn out a sermon. Yell try the world soon, my lad ; And, Andrew dear, believe me, Ye'll find mankind an unco squad, And muckle they may grieve ye : For care and trouble set your thought, Ev'n when your end's attained ; And a' your views may come to nought, Where ev'ry nerve is strained. I'll no say, men are villains a' ; The real, harden'd wicked, Wha hae nae check but human law, Are to a few restricket ; But, och ! mankind are unco weak, An' little to be trusted ; If self the wavering balance shake, i It's rarely right adjusted ! «t- 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 301 Yet they wha fa' in fortune's strife, Their fate we shouldna censure ; For still, th' important end of life They equally may answer : A man may hae an honest heart, Tho' poortith a hourly stare him ; A man may tak a neibor's part, Yet hae nae cash to spare him. Ay free, aff han', your story tell, When wi' a bosom crony ; But still keep something to yoursel Ye scarcely tell to ony : Conceal yoursel as weel's ye can Frae critical dissection ; But keek b thro' ev'ry other man, Wi' sharpen'd, sly inspection. The sacred lowe c o' weel-plac'd love, Luxuriantly indulge it ; But never tempt th' illicit rove, Tho' naething should divulge it : I waive the quantum o' the sin, The hazard of concealing ; But, och ! it hardens a' within, And petrifies the feeling ! To catch dame Fortune's golden smile, Assiduous wait upon her; And gather gear by ev'ry wile That's justify 'd by honor ; 1 poverty. b look stealthily. c flame. o 02 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. Not for to hide it in a hedge, Nor for a train attendant ; But for the glorious privilege Of being independent. The fear o' hell's a hangman's whip, To haud the wretch in order ; But where ye feel your honour grip, Let that ay be your border : Its slightest touches, instant pause — Debar a' side-pretences ; And resolutely keep its laws, Uncaring consequences. The great Creator to revere, Must sure become the creature ; But still the preaching cant forbear, And ev'n the rigid feature : Yet ne'er with wits profane to range, Be complaisance extended ; An atheist-laugh's a poor exchange For Deity offended ! When ranting round in pleasure's ring, Religion may be blinded ; Or if she gie a random sting, It may be little minded ; But when on life we're tempest-driv'n — A conscience but a canker — A correspondence fix'd wi' Heav'n, Is sure a noble anchor ! Adieu, dear, amiable youth ! Your heart can ne'er be wanting ! May prudence, fortitude, and truth, Erect your brow undaunting ! jet. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 303 In ploughman phrase, " God send you speed," Still daily to grow wiser ; And may ye better reck the rede, d Than ever did th' adviser ! [The young friend here so sagaciously addressed was Andrew Aiken, son of the poet's early patron Robert Aiken, to whom the " Cottar's Saturday Night" is inscribed. He afterwards engaged in mercantile pursuits in Liverpool, where he prospered, and was ultimately appointed English consul at Riga, at which port he died in 1831. Andrew's son, Peter F. Aiken, passed as an advocate in Edinburgh : but instead of practising the law, he became a banker in Bristol, when he still survives in honorable retirement. In a holograph copy of this epistle, dated " Mossgeil, May 15th 1786," the following additional stanza is introduced, immediately after the sixth verse : — " If ye hae made a step aside — Some hap mistake o'erta'en you, Yet still keep up a decent pride, And ne'er o'er far demean you ; Time comes wi' kind oblivious shade, And daily darker sets it ; And if nae mair mistakes are made, The warld soon forgets it." Chambers well remarks that " the admirable taste of the poet had doubt- less observed this verse to be below the rest in terseness and point, and therefore caused him to omit it in printing." The latter half of stanza fifth has been the subject of some criticism. In 1851, Chambers thus directed attention to it in a foot-note : — " It is not often that the sagacity of Burns is open to challenge ; but here certainly he is not philosophically right. It must always be a questionable maxim which proposes to benefit the individual at the expense of his fellow-creatures, or which, if generally followed, would neutralise itself — as this would do." This honest-like objection was not relished by some of the poet's admiring countrymen : in particular, the Scotsman of April 10th 1851, in reviewing the first volume of Chambers's labours, remarked that his comments, "when free from platitude, are not always void of offence. The spectacle of Mr ( h ambers, or indeed almost any man, lecturing up- on limns as deficient in generosity, frankness, and boldness of spirit, iloes not harmonise with one's idea of the fitness of things." We huniMy think that Burns's practice condemned his own maxim. We cannot conceive of his having ever thus acted on the reserve "when wi' a bosom crony : " on the contrary, he did sometimes unguardedly lay him- d use the lesson. 304 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. self open to "critical dissection" among those who watched for his halting. One of the poet's early Carrick associates — the late "William Niven, of Kilbride, Maybole — always asserted that this epistle was originally addressed to him, and shifted to Andrew Aiken as a more profitable investment of his rhyming ware. Niven unfortunately could never prove his assertion by production of the original ; and there exists a letter from Burns to Niven dated 30th August 1786 — a month after the publication of the poem — which is couched in the most friendly terms, and refers to a recent hobnobbing between the poet and him at Maybole. On the other hand, the Rev. Hamilton Paul, in 1819, adverts to Niven's assertion as being a well-known fact, and calls it " the sole instance of disingenuousness which we have heard charged against Burns."] ADDRESS OF BEELZEBUB. (Edinburgh Magazine, 1818.) To the Bight Honorable -the Earl of Breadalbane, President of the Bight Honorable and Honorable the Highland Society, which met on the 23d of May last, at the Shakspeare, Covent Garden, to concert ways and means to frustrate the designs of five hundred Highlanders who, as the Society were informed by Mr M'Kenzie of Applecross, were so audacious as to attempt an escape from their lawful lords and masters whose property they are, by emigrating from the lands of Mr Mac- donald of Glengary to the wilds of Canada, in search of that fantastic tliirj2 — LIBERTT. J S Long life, my lord, an' health be yours, Vnskaith'd 8, by hunger'd Highland boors ; Lord grant nae duddie, b desperate beggar, Wi' dirk, claymore, and rusty trigger, May twin auld Scotland o' a life She likes — as lambkins 1 like a knife. Faith, you and Applecross were right To keep the Highland hounds in sight : I doubt na ! they wad bid d nae better, Than let them ance out owre the water, a unharmed. b ragged. c deprive. d oflei. «T- 28.] POEMS A^D SILNUS. 505 Then np amang thae lakes and seas, They'll mak what rules and laws they please : Some daring Hancoke, or a Franklin, May set their Highland bluid a-ranklin ; Some Washington again may head them, Or some Montgomery, fearless, lead them ; Till (God knows what may be effected When by such heads and hearts directed), Poor dunghill sons of dirt and mire May to Patrician rights aspire ! Nae sage North now, nor sager Sackville, To watch and premier o'er the pack vile, — An' whare will ye get Howes and Clintons To bring them to a right repentance — To cowe the rebel generation, An' save the honor o' the nation? They, an' be d — d ! what right hae they To meat, or sleep, or light o' day ? Far less — to riches, pow'r, or freedom, But what your lordship likes to gie them ? But hear, my lord ! Glengary, hear ! Your hand's owre light on them, I fear; Your factors, grieves, trustees, and bailies, I canna say but they do gaylies; e They lay aside a' tender mercies, An' tirl f the hallions# to the birses ; h Yet while they're only poind't 1 and herriet,J They'll keep their stubborn Highland spirit : But smash them ! crash them a' to spails, k An' rot the dyvors 1 i' the jails ! ' pretty well, 'strip. * clowiis. b hairy hides, 'distrained. 'robbed. k chips, 'bankrupts. I. U 30G POEMS AND SONGS. [1786 The young dogs, swinge them to the labour ; Let wark an' hunger mak them sober ! The hizzies, m if they're aughtlins fawsont, n Let them in Drury-lane be lesson'd ! An' if the wives an' dirty brats Come thiggin - at your doors an' yetts, Flaffm wi' duds, an' grey wi' beas',P Frightin away your ducks an' geese ; Get out a horsewhip or a jowler,*! The langest thong, the fiercest growler, An' gar the tatter'd gypsies pack Wi' a' their bastards on their back ! Go on, my Lord ! I lang to meet you, An' in my " house at hame" to greet you ; Wi' common lords ye shanna mingle, The benmost neuk 1 ' beside the ingle, At my right han' assigned your seat, 'Tween Herod's hip an' Polycrate ; Or (if you on your station tarrow), 3 Between Almagro and Pizarro, A seat, I'm sure ye're weel deservin't ; An' till ye come — your humble servant, Beelzebub. June 1st, Anno Mundi 5790. [This curious production must have been a hasty one, and not much regarded by its author. The only known copy was presented to Mr John Bankine of Adamhill, and through him passed into the hands of a friend who sent it for publication to the editor of the Edinburgh Magazine for February 1818. M'Kenzie of Applecross is remembered as a liberal-minded, patriotic man, who strove to improve the condition of his tenantry. His views and those of the Highland Society must have been misapprehended by m girls. * good-looking. ° begging. p vermin, i a bull -dog. r innermost corner. B take a disrelish. «r. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 307 the bard when he put this address into the mouth of " Beelzebub." The signature of that august personage, detached from the poem, is preserved, among other autographs of Burns, in the collection of W. F. Watson, Esq., Edinburgh. A curious variation, in line sixth of the poem, must be pointed out. Instead of the word "lambkins," which we adopt from Cunningham and from Pickering, both Motherwell and the Magazine have " butchers." It is difficult to decide which is the proper word : butchers may, while lambs cannot, be supposed to like the knife ; but as the author here seems to mean that Scotland detests Breadalbane for his alleged oppression of her poor Highlanders, we prefer the word in the text, as best suiting the poet's ironical strain.] A DREAM. (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) Thoughts, words, and deeds, the Statute blames with reason ; But surely Dreams were ne'er indicted Treason. On reading, in the public papers, the Laureate's Ode, with the other parade of June 4th, 1786, the Author was no sooner dropt asleep, than he imagined himself transported to the Birth-day Levee : and, in his dreaming fancy, made the following Address : — Guid-mornin to your Majesty ! May Heaven augment your blisses On ev'ry new birth-day ye see, A humble poet wishes. My hardship here, at your Levee On sic a day as this is, Is sure an uncouth sight to see, Amang thae birth-day dresses Sae fine this day. I see ye're complimented thrang, By mony a lord an' lady ; " God save the King " 's a cuckoo sang That's unco easy said ay : 308 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. The poets, too, a venal gang, Wf rhymes weel-turn'd an' ready, Wad gar a you trow b ye ne'er do wrang, But ay unerring steady, On sic a day. For me ! before a monarch's face, Ev'n there I winna flatter ; For neither pension, post, nor place, Am I your humble debtor : So, nae reflection on your Grace, Your Kingship to bespatter ; There's mony waur been o' the race, And aiblins c ane been better Than you this day. 'Tis very true, my sovereign King, My skill may weel be doubted ; Bat facts are chiels that winna ding, d An' downa e be disputed : Your royal nest, beneath your wing, Is e'en right reft f an' clouted,^ And now the third part o' the string, An' less, will gang about it Than did ae day.* Far be 't frae me that I aspire To blame your legislation, Or say, ye wisdom want, or fire To rule this mighty nation: a make. b believe. c perhaps. d be beaten. e cannot. f riven. * patched. * A reference to the loss of the North American Colonies. jet. 2S.] POEMS AND SONGS. 30!) But faith ! I muckle doubt, my sire, Ye've trusted ministration To chaps wha in a bam or byre Wad better fill'd their station, Than courts yon day. And now ye've gien auld Britain peace, Her broken shins to plaister; Your sair taxation does her fleece, Till she has scarce a tester : For me, thank God, my life's a lease, Nae bargain wearin faster, Or faith ! I fear, that, wi' the geese, I shortly boost* 1 to pasture I' the craft 1 some day. I'm no mistrusting Willie Pitt, When taxes he enlarges, (An' Will 's a true guid fallow's get,i A name not envy spairges), k That he intends to pay your debt, An' lessen a' your charges ; But, G — d sake ! let nae saving fit Abridge your bonie barges An' boats this day.* Adieu, my Liege ! may Freedom geek 1 Beneath your high protection ; An' may ye rax m Corruption's neck, And gie her for dissection ! h behoved. ' common-park. J offspring. k disparages. ' exult. '" stretch. * In the spring of 178G, some discussion arose in parliament about a pro pusal to give up 01 gun ships, when the navy supplies were being considered. 3 1 POEMS AND SONGS. EH86. But since I'm here, I'll no neglect, In loyal, true affection, To pay your Queen, wi' due respect, My fealty an' subjection This great birth-day. Hail, Majesty most Excellent ! While nobles strive to please ye, Will ye accept a compliment, A simple poet 2 gies ye ? Thae bonie bairntime, n Heav'n has lent, Still higher may they heeze* ye In bliss, till fate some day is sent, For ever to release ye Frae care that day. For you, young Potentate o' Wales, I tell your Highness fairly, Down Pleasure's stream, wi' swelling sails, I'm tauld ye're driving rarely ; But some day ye may gnaw your nails, An' curse your folly sairly, That e'er ye brak Diana's pales, Or rattl'd dice wi' Charlie P By night or day. Yet aft a ragged cowt's^ been known, To mak a noble aiver ; r So, ye may doucely fill a throne, For a' their clish-ma-claver : n brood of children. ° raise. p C. J. Fox. « colt. * draught-horse. *rr. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 31 1 There, him* at Agincourfc wha shone, Few better were or braver ; And yet, wi' funny, queer Sir John ; t He was an unco shaver For mony a day. For you, right rev'rend Osnaburg,| Nane sets the lawn-sleeve sweeter, Altho' a ribban at your lug Wad been a dress completer : As ye disown yon paughty 8 dog, That bears the keys of Peter, Then swith ! an' get a wife to hug, Or trowth, ye'll stain the mitre Some luckless day ! Young, royal " tarry-breeks," I learn, Ye've lately come athwart her — A glorious galley, § stem and stern, Weel rigg'd for Venus' barter ; But first hang out that she'll discern Your hymeneal charter ; Then heave aboard your grapple-airn, An', large upon her quarter, Come full that day. Ye, lastly, bonie blossoms a', Ye royal lasses dainty, Heav'n mak you guid as weel as braw, An' gie you lads a-plenty ! " puffed lip. * King Henry V.— JR. B. t Sir John Falstaff, vid. Shakspeare.— R. D. X Frederick, first a Bishop, and afterwards Duke of York. § Alluding to the newspaper account of a certain Royal sailor's amour. - /{. B. This was Prince William Henry, iifterwarils King William IV. who in his youth espoused Mrs Jordan the player. 312 POEMS AND SONGS. [17S6. But sneer na British boys awa ! For kings are unco scant ay, An' German gentles are but sma', They're better just than want ay On ony day. God bless you a' ! consider now, Ye're unco muckle dautet ; * But ere the course o' life be through, It may be bitter sautet : u An' I hae seen their coggie fou, v That yet hae tarrow't w at it. But or the day was done, I trow, The laggen x they hae clautet^ Fu' clean that clay. [The poet's letter to Mrs Dunlop (April 30th, 1787,) gives us a hint of some of the difficulties he had to steer through, in his endeavours to be on good terms with patrons, and yet retain his independence. Allan Cunningham has observed that "the merits of 'The Dream' are of a high order — the gaity as well as keenness of the satire, and the vehement rapidity of the verse, are not its only attractions. Even the prose intro- duction is sarcastic ; his falling asleep over the Laureate's Ode was a likely consequence, for the birth-day strains of those times were some- thing of the dullest." Few poetical couplets are oftener quoted than those in verse fourth : — Facts are chiels that wirnia ding, An' downa be disputed. The poem throughout has been long regarded as prophetic. The closing lines, however, which seemed to suggest a warning of probable con- stitutional changes like those which France soon experienced, have happily proved of a different character. The only variations ( x ) ( 2 ) occur where the word "poet" was in the author's later editions substituted for " bardi« " in the earlier ones. The change was probably made at the suggestion of Mr A. F. Tytler.] * petted. u salted. v dish full. w lingered with distaste. x corner of the dish. y scraped. -ET.2S.] POEMS AND SONGS. 313 A DEDICATION TO GAVIN HAMILTON, ESQ. (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) Expect na, sir, in this narration, A fleechin, a fleth'rin b Dedication, To roose c you up, an' ca' you guid, An' sprung o' great an' noble bluid, Because ye're surnam'd like His Grace — Perhaps related to the race : Then, when I'm tir'd — and sae are ye, Wi' mony a fulsome, sinfu' lie, Set up a face d how I stop short, For fear your modesty be hurt. This may do — maun do, sir, wi' them wha Maun please the great-folk for a wamefou ; For me ! sae laigh I need na bow, For, Lord be thanket, I can plough ; And when I downa e yoke a naig, Then, Lord be thanket, I can beg ; Sae I shall say — an' that's nae flatt'rin — It's just sic poet an' sic patron. The Poet, some guid angel help him, Or else, I fear, some ill ane skelp f him ! He may do weel for a' he's done yet, But only — he's no just begun yet. The Patron (sir, ye maun forgic me ; I winna lie, come what will o' me), On ev'ry hand it will allow'd be, He's just — nae better than he shou'd be. begging. u flattering. c praise. a pretence. "cannot. f thrash. 314 POEMS AND SONGS. [1780. I readily and freely grant, He downa see a poor man want ; What's no his ain, he winna tak it ; What ance he says, he winna break it ; Ought he can lend he'll no refus't, Till aft his guidness is abus'd ; And rascals whyles S that do him wrang, Ev'n that, he does na mind it lang ; As master, landlord, husband, father, He does na fail his part in either. But then, nae thanks to him for a' that ; Nae godly symptom ye can ca' that ; It's naething but a milder feature Of our poor, sinfu', corrupt nature : Ye'll get the best o' moral works, 'Mang black Gentoos, and pagan Turks, Or hunters wild on Ponotaxi, Wha never heard of orthodoxy. That he's the poor man's friend in need, The gentleman in word and deed, It's no thro' terror of d-mn-t-n ; It's just a carnal inclination. 1 Morality, thou deadly bane, Thy tens o' thousands thou hast slain ! Vain is his hope, whase stay an' trust is In moral mercy, truth, and justice ! No — stretch a point to catch a plack ; h Abuse a brother to his back ; Steal thro' the winnock 1 frae a whore, But point the rake that taks the door ; 8 occasionally. h farthing. * window. ^t. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 315 Be to the poor like onie whunstane, And haud their noses to the grunstane ; Ply ev'ry art o' legal thieving ; No matter — stick to sound believing. Learn three-mile pray'rs, an' half-mile graces, Wi' weel-spread looves,i an' lang, wry faces ; Grunt up a solemn, lengthen'd groan, And damn a' parties but your own ; I'll warrant then, ye're nae deceiver, A steady, sturdy, staunch believer. ye wha leave the springs o' Calvin, For gumlie k dubs of your ain delviu ! l Ye sons of Heresy and Error, Ye'll some day squeel in quaking terror, When Vengeance draws the sword in wrath, And in the fire throws the sheath ; When Ruin, with his sweeping besom, Just frets till Heav'n commission gies him ; While o'er the harp pale Misery moans, And strikes the ever-deep'ning tones, Still louder shrieks, and heavier groans ! Your pardon, sir, for this digression : I maist forgat my Dedication ; But when divinity comes 'cross me, My readers still are sure to lose me. So, sir, you see 'twas nae daft vapour ; But I maturely thought it proper, When a' my works I did review, To dedicate them, sir, to you : J hands. k muddy. ' digging. 316 POEMS AND SONGS. [17S6. Because (ye need na tak' it ill), I thought them something like yoursel. Then patronize them wi' your favor, And your petitioner shall ever I had amaist said, ever pray, But that's a word I need na say; For prayin, I hae little skill o't, I'm baith dead-sweer, m an' wretched ill o't ; But I'se repeat each poor man's pray'r, That kens or hears about you, sir " May ne'er Misfortune's gowling bark, Howl thro' the dwelling o' the clerk ! n May ne'er his gen'rous, honest heart, For that same gen'rous spirit smart ! May Kennedy's far-honor'd name * Lang beet ° his hymeneal flame, Till Hamiltons, at least a dizzen, Are frae their nuptial labors risen : Five bonie lasses round their table, And sev'n braw fellows, stout an' able, To serve their king an' country weel, By word, or pen, or pointed steel ! May health and peace, with mutual rays, Shine on the ev'ning o' his days ; Till his wee, curlie John's ier-oe,P When ebbing life nae mair shall flow, The last, sad, mournful rites bestow ! " m loath. n attorney. ° fan. p great grandchild. * Mr Hamilton's wife belonged to an ancient and influential family of that name, in Carrick. JRT. 2S.] POEMS AND SONGS. 317 I will Dot wind a lang conclusion, With complimentary effusion ; But, whilst your wishes and endeavours Are blest with Fortune's smiles and favours, I am, dear sir, with zeal most fervent, Your much indebted, humble servant. But if (which Pow'rs above prevent) That iron-hearted carl, Want, Attended, in his grim advances, By sad mistakes, and black mischances, While hopes, and joys, and pleasures fly him, Make you as poor a dog as I am, Your ' humble servant ' then no more ; For who would humbly serve the poor ? But, by a poor man's hopes in Heav'n ! While recollection's pow'r is giv'n — ■ If, in the vale of humble life, The victim sad of fortune's strife, I, thro' the tender-gushing tear, Should recognise my master dear ; If friendless, low, we meet together, Then, sir, your hand — my friend and brother ! [In all likelihood, this characteristic effusion was composed with a view to its occupying a place in front of the author's first publication ; but probably its freedom of sentiment and lack of reverence formatters orthodox would stagger its cautious and circumspect typographer. It was accordingly slipped into the book near the close, in fellowship with " The Louse," and some subjects less dainty in character than those first presented to the reader. This " dedication " is nevertheless esteemed one of the best poems in the volume; and none of the author's lines are more frequently on the lips of his readers than some of its pithy sentences. Indeed, the bard's correspondence testifies that lie was himself fond of quoting its couplets occasionally. The gentleman to whom it is addressed was, in every respect, a man after Burns' own 818 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. heart ; and this fact is very quaintly told in the passage where he explains his reason for dedicating the poems to Hamilton : — " Because — ye needna tak it ill — I thought them something like yoursel.'" According to Mr Lockhart, " Hamilton's family, though professedly adhering to the Presbyterian Establishment, had always lain under a strong suspicion of Episcopalianism. Gavin's grandfather had been curate of Kirkoswald in the troublous times that preceded the Pievolu- tion, and incurred popular hatred in consequence of being supposed to have been instrumental in bringing a thousand of the ' Highland host into that region in 1677." We rather suspect this was the great-grand- father of the poet's friend, named Claud, who died in 1699, and whose son John was a writer in Edinburgh. Gavin's father was also a writer in Mauchline, inhabiting the old castellated mansion which still exists near the church. Cromek mentions that the Rev. "William Auld had quarrelled with the senior Hamilton, and sought every occasion of revenging himself on the son. Be that as it may, our notes at pp. 100 and 102 sufficiently narrate the annoyances to which Gavin was subjected by the Kirk Session ; and the author's text there, and elsewhere, shews the measure of the reprisal that followed. One of the existing representatives of Mr Hamilton is Major Wallace Adair, husband of a granddaughter of Gavin, and himself a grandson of Charlotte Hamilton, sister of the subject of the text. The only variation we can record is at the close of the 6th paragraph. The author, in his second edition, cancelled a line which there appears in his Kilmarnock volume, forming the last line of a triplet, thus : — And och ! that's nae regeneration. Cromek, however, mentions that he had seen a copy of this poem, in which one of Hamilton's great sins, in the eyes of Daddy Auld and Holy Willie, is thus neatly introduced : He sometimes gallops on a Sunday, An' pricks his beast as it were Monday. This looks amazingly like the parody of a couplet in Tarn O'Shanter, and the reader will search the text in vain for a possible corner where it might have stood.] -«■. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 319 VERSIFIED NOTE to Dr MACKENZIE, MAUCHLINE. (Hogg and Motherwell, 1835.) Friday first 's the day appointed By the Right Worshipful anointed, To hold our grand procession ; To get a blad o' Johnie's morals, And taste a swatch a o' Manson's barrels I' the way of our profession. The Master and the Brotherhood Would a' be glad to see you ; For me I would be mair than proud To share the mercies wi' you. If Death, then, wi' skaith, b then, Some mortal heart is hechtin, c Inform him, and storm d him, That Saturday you'll fecht him. Robert Burns. Mossgid, An. M. 5790. [The masonic date appended to the foregoing rhyme, signifies a. d. 1786. Our notes hitherto, (except in connection with the bacchanalian song given at page 38,) have had no occasion to refer to the poet's passion for Free-masonry. He had, in July 1784, been raised to the position of Depute Master of St James' Lodge, Tarbolton, from which period down to May 1788, he continued frequently to sign the minutes in that capacity. On 24th June 178G, being St John's Day, a grand procession of the lodge took place by previous arrangement, and the lines forming the text shew the style in which he invited his brother-mason, Dr Mackenzie, to be present on the occasion. The Lodge held its inn-tings in a back-room of the principal inn of the village kept by a person named Manson, It is not very clear who was the "Johnie" thus expected to dilate on morals: Professor Walker tells us it was John Mackenzie himself, whose favourite topic was "the origin of Morals."] n sample. h harm. ° threatening d bully. S20 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. THE FAREWELL. TO THE BRETHREN OF ST. JAMES'S LODGE, TARBOLTON. Tune — " Goodnight, and joy be wi' you a'." (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786). Adieu ! a heart-warm, fond adieu ; Dear brothers of the mystic tye ! Ye favoured, enlighten] d few, Companions of my social joy ; Tho' I to foreign lands must hie, Pursuing Fortune's slidd'ry ba' ; With melting heart, and brimful eye, I'll mind you still, tho' far awa. Oft have I met your social band, And spent the cheerful, festive night : Oft, honour'd with supreme command, Presided o'er the sons of light : And by that hieroglyphic bright, Which none but Craftsmen ever saw ! Strong Mem'ry on my heart shall write Those happy scenes, when far awa. May Freedom, Harmony, and Love, Unite you in the grand Design, Beneath th' Omniscient Eye above — The glorious Architect Divine, That you may keep th' unerring line, Still rising by the plummet's law, Till Order bright completely shine, Shall be my pray'r when far awa. jet. 28]. POEMS AND SONGS. 321 And you, farewell ! whose merits claim Justly that highest badge to wear : Heav'n bless your honour'd, noble name, To Masonry and Scotia dear ! A last request permit me here, — When yearly ye assemble a', One round, I ask it with a tear, To him, the Bard that's far aiva. [An examination of the minute-book of the lodge shews that on 23d June 1786, the poet was present at a meeting preparatory to the grand procession referred to in the last piece. No other lodge-meeting was held till the 29th of July, which Burns also attended ; and as the pre- sent song formed part of the volume which was put into the hands of the public on the last day of that month, we may assume that the occasion on which the poet repeated or sang the verses to the brethren was on the 23d or 24th of June. He was then full of the intention of sailing before the close of August ; for we find him writing to a friend on 30th July:— " My hour is now come : y^u and I shall never meet in Britain more. I have orders, within three weeks at furthest, to repair aboard the Nancy, Captain Smith, from Clyde to Jamaica." It would appear that Captain James Montgomery (a younger brother of Col. Hugh Montgomery of Coilsfield) was, about this period, Grandmaster of St James Lodge ; and Chambers tells us that the first four lines of the closing stanza of this song refer to him. On the other hand, a little work of some pretentions, called " A winter with Robert Burns," asserts that the reference is to William Wallace " of the Tar- bolton St. David's," Sheriff of the County of Ayr — a name "to masonry and Scotia dear." Strange to say, a note in the " Aldine" edition tells us that this half-stanza refers to Sir John Whitefoord.] I. 322 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. ON A SCOTCH BARD, GONE TO THE WEST INDIES. (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) A' YE wha live by sowps a o' driuk, A' ye wha live by crambo-clink, b A' ye wha live and never think, Come, mourn wi' me ! Our billie's gien us a' a jink, 1 An' owre the sea ! Lament him a' ye rantin core, Wha dearly like a random-splore ; d Nae mair he'll join the merry roar, In social key ; For now he's taen anither shore, 2 An' owre the sea ! The bonie lasses weel may wiss him, And in their dear petitions place him : 3 The widows, wives, an' a' may bless him Wi' tearfu' e'e , For weel I wat they'll sairly miss him That's owre the sea ! Fortune, they hae room to grumble ! Hadst thou taen aff some drowsy bummle, e Wha can do nought but fyke an' fumble, 'Twad been nae plea ; But he was gleg as onie wumble, f That's owre the sea ! ] » — ■ a spoonfuls. b versifying. c brother. d frolic. e blunderer. f joiner's gimlet. as.t. 28] POEMS AND SONGS. 323 Auld, cantie Kyle may weepers^ wear, An' stain them wi' the saut, saut tear : 'Twill mak 4 her poor auld heart, I fear, In flinders 11 flee : He was her Laureat monie a year, That's owre the sea ! He saw Misfortune's cauld nor-west Lang mustering up a bitter blast ; A jillet 1 brak his heart at last, 111 may she be ! So, took a berth afore the mast, An owre the sea. * To tremble under Fortune's cummock,J On 5 scarce a bellyfu' o' drummock, k Wi' his proud, independent stomach, Could ill agree ; So, row't his hurdies 1 in a hammock, An' owre the sea. He ne'er was gien to great misguidiu, Yet coin his pouches wad na bide in ; Wi' him it ne'er was under hidin ; He dealt it free : The Muse was a' that he took pride in, That's owre the sea. Jamaica bodies, use him weel, An' hap him in a cozie biel : m e a stripe of white muslin on the cufl's <>f mourners. h fragments. ' jili • ' cudgel. k meal and water mixed. ' posteriors. ■ comfortable shelter. o 24 POEMS AND SONGS. [1783. Ye'll find him ay a dainty chiel, An' fou o' glee : He wad na wrang'd the vera deil, That's owre the sea. 1 6 Fareweel, my rhyme-composing billie Your native soil was right ill-willie ; But may ye flourish like a lily, Now bonilie ! I'll toast you in my hindmost gillie, n Tho' owre the sea ! [This playful ode shines out cheerfully among the poet's more pathetic leave-takings of the period. He puts it into the mouth of an imaginary "rhyme-composing brother;" but not one of the tribe, except the bard of Kyle himself, could have produced such an original and happy steiin. His own picture is painted to the life, in all his "ranting, roving Eobin-hood;" and yet, amid his rollicking, he throws in a touch of the true pathetic, just to show his reader how " Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure, Thrill the deepest notes of woe. " He who, only a few months before, had sung so despairingly in " The Lament," and kindred effusions, concerning " A faithless woman's broken vow," here reverts to the same theme in a strain of smothered bitterness : — - " He saw Misfortune's cauld nor-west Lang mustering up a bitter blast ; A jillet brak his heart at last, 111 may she be ! So, took a berth afore the mast, An' owre the sea." Tie variations annexed are from a MS. copy, formerly possessed by Mr Pickering of London. 1 Our billie, Rob, has taen a jink. - He's canter'd to anitlier shore. 1 An' pray kind Fortune to redress him. 4 gar. 6 An' • Then fare-ye-weel, my rhymin billie. ] ° gill of whisky. A"i-2S.] POEMS AND SONGS. 32a SONG.— FAREWELL TO ELIZA. Tune—" Gilderoy." (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) From thee, Eliza, I must go, And from my native shore ; The cruel fates between us throw A boundless ocean's roar : But boundless oceans, roaring wide, Between my love and me, They never, never can divide My heart and soul from thee. Farewell, farewell, Eliza dear, The maid that I adore ! A boding voice is in mine ear, We part to meet no more ! But the latest throb that leaves my heart, While Death stands victor by, — That throb, Eliza, is thy part, And thine that latest si«h ! [In the Ode on a Scotch Bard, the author took a general farewell of the "bonie lasses — widows, wives an' a'," and here he singles out one in particular, from among "the belles of Mauchline," in whom he seems to have a more special interest. The language is almost identical with that in which he addressed Jean Armour shortly before, " Tho' cruel fate," &c. (see p. 130). That he really had some of " his random fits o' daffin" with a young woman bearing this Christian name, is evident from a few words that dropped from him after his " eclatant return" from Edinburgh to Mauchline. On lltli June 1787, in a letter to his friend James Smith, then at Linlithgow, he says — " Your mother, sister, and brother ; my quondam Eliza, &c, an- all well." Chambers, from a variety of circumstances, .•nine to the conclusion that this " Eliza" was the "braw Miss Betty" til' the "six proper young belles," ho distinguished by the poet in Ids CanZOnette given at page 7<>. She was sister f<, Miss Helen Miller, the wife of Dr Mackenzie, and died shortly after being married to a Mr Templetou.] 3 20 POEMS AND SONGS. P'8C A BARD'S EPITAPH. (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) Is there a whim-inspired fool, Owre fast for thought, owre hot for rule, Owre blate a to seek, owre proud to snool, b Let him draw near ; And owre this grassy heap sing dool, And drap a tear. Is there a bard of rustic song, Who, noteless, steals the crowds among, That weekly this arena throng, O, pass not by ! But, with a frater-feeling strong, Here, heave a sigh. Is there a man, whose judgment clear Can others teach the course to steer, Yet runs, himself, life's mad career, Wild as the wave, Here pause — and, thro' the starting tear, Survey this grave. The poor inhabitant below Was quick to learn and wise to know, And keenly felt the friendly glow, And softer flame ; But thoughtless follies laid him low, And stain'd his name ! 1 bashful. b submit tamely. xi. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. o'J7 Reader, attend ! whether thy soul Soars fancy's flights beyond the pole, Or darkling grubs this earthly hole, In low pursuit ; Know, prudent, cautious, self-control Is wisdom's root. [The poet's labours to feed the Kilmarnock press of John Wilson with sufficient materials to make up a volume of moderate thickness were drawing to a close ; and, having bade farewell to " friends and foes," he had only now to compose his own Epitaph. The Elegy on himself, given at page 133 supra, did not altogether satisfy him ; so he tasked his muse to the utmost, and produced in the text, what, with common consent, is allowed to be equally truthful, pathetic, and sublime. In some extempore verses, dashed off at this period, he speaks thus lightly of his probable death as the result of his intended expatriation : — And now I must mount on the wave, My voyage perhaps there is death in ; But what of a watery grave ? The drowning a poet is naething ! We have not seen any MS. copy of the " Bard's Epitaph ; " and the text of every edition exactly corresponds.] EPITAPH FOR ROBERT AIKEN, ESQ. (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) Know thou, O stranger to the fame Of this much lov'd, much honoured name ! (For none that knew him need be told) A warmer heart death ne'er made cold. [The above is a kindly compliment to his warm friend Mr Aiken the "orator Bob" of the ecclesiastical courts, in their proceedings against Gavin Eamilton, and against Dr M'Gill. To this gentleman, who was a life-long friend of the bard from the date of their first acquaintance, the " Cottar's Saturday Night" is dedicated. lie survived the poet, till 24th Man-li L807.] 328 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. EPITAPH FOR GAVIN HAMILTON, ESQ. (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) The poor man weeps — here Gavin sleeps, Whom canting wretches blam'd ; But with such as he, where'er he be, May I be sav'd or d — d ! [Here is a characteristic turn of the poet's pen in favour of his honest, but greatly maligned, friend and neighbour, Mr Hamilton, of whom we have already had occasion to say a good deal (see pp. 96, 100, 141, 142). He survived till 8th Feb. 1805, dying at the compara- tively early age of fifty-two. A year after his death, his daughter "Wilhelmina (referred to in one of the poet's letters) mai-ried the Rev. John Tod, a successor of Daddy Auld as parish minister of Mauchline. Mr Tod died in 1844, and his wife survived till 1858, leaving several descendants.] EPITAPH ON "WEE JOHNIE." (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) Hie Jacet ivee Johnie. Whoe'er thou art, reader, know That Death has murder'd Johnie ; An' here his body lies fu' low ; For said he ne'er had ony. [From the day that Burns came before the world as an author till the day of his death, and seventy years beyond that event, the poet's readers had a tacit understanding that these four lines had been waggishly in- serted in the last sheet of his book, as a satire — not a very wicked one — on his printer. How that understanding arose does not appear. The decent little typographer, however, (who was really a master of his own art, although, in the eyes of genius, destitute of the "divine afflatus "), was not a whit the worse of setting up in type his own " Hie jacet." He prospered in the world, and died at Ayr on 6th May 1821. ^ T - 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 329 By his own instructions, his body was removed to his favourite Kilmar- nock, where his true " Hie jacet " may be read in the High Church burial ground. He bequeathed, under very peculiar restrictions, a small mortification for educational purposes, to his native town, of which he was for sometime a magistrate.] THE LASS O' BALLOCHMYLE. (Currie 1800.) Tune—" Ettrick Banks." 'Twas even — the dewy fields were green, On every blade the pearls hang ; * The zephyr wanton'd round the bean, And bore its fragrant sweets alang : In ev'ry glen the mavis sang, All nature list'ning seem'd the while, Except where greenwood echoes rang, Amang the braes o' Ballochmyle. With careless step I onward stray 'd, My heart rejoie'd in nature's joy, When, musing in a lonely glade, A maiden fair I chane'd to spy : Her look was like the morning's eye, Her air like nature's vernal smile ; Perfection whisper'd, passing by, " Behold the lass o' Ballochmyle ! " l Fair is the morn in flowery May, And sweet is night in autumn mild ; When roving thro' the garden gay, Or wand'riug in the lonely wild : * "Hang," a common Scotticism for hung. 330 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. But woman, nature's darling child ! There all her charms she does compile ; Even there her other works are foil'd 2 By the bonie lass o' Ballochmyle. O had she been 3 a county maid, And I the happy country swain, Tho' shelter'd in the lowest shed That ever rose on Scotland's 4 plain ! Thro' weary winter's wind and rain, With joy, with rapture, I would toil ; And nightly to my bosom strain The bonie lass o' Ballochmyle. Then pride might climb the slipp'ry steep, Where fame and honors lofty shine ; And thirst of gold might tempt the deep, Or downward seek the Indian mine : Give me the cot below the pine, To tend the flocks or till the soil ; And ev'ry day have 5 joys divine With the bonie lass o' Ballochmyle. [According to the poet's own information, on a lovely evening in July 1786, before the summer's heat had browned the vernal glory of the season, and while the fragrant blossom yet lingered on the hawthorn, the muse suggested this famous lyric. His correcting of the press, involving many a journey to and from Kilmarnock, was then accom- plished ; and while waiting, no doubt with some anxiety, for publication day, he indulged himself with one of his wonted strolls on the banks of Ayr at Ballochmyle. In these romantic retreats, while his " heart rejoiced in nature's joy," fresh animation was added to the scene by the unexpected approach of Miss Williamina Alexander, the sister of the new proprietor of that estate ; and although she only crossed his path like a vision, the above verses were the result of that incident. In a warmly-composed letter, he enclosed the song to the lady ; referring with much animation to the occasion which gave it birth. iKT. 28.] TOEMS AND SONGS. ool That communication bears date the 18th of November 1786, when the success of his first publication had encouraged him to drop his emigra- tion scheme, and to resolve on a second edition to be published in Edinburgh. His professed object in addressing the lady was to obtain her consent to the printing of the song in the new edition. It would appear, however, that Miss Alexander judged it prudent not to reply to the poet's request. But a day at length arrived when she was proud to exhibit the letter and the poem together in a glass case. A few years ago, the writer of this note had the pleasure of examining that interest- ing production, which now hangs on the wall of the " spence " or back- parlour of the farm of Mossgiel, the place selected about twenty years ago, by the relatives of the heroine of the song, as the fittest for its exhibition to "all and sundries." The hand-writing is more careless than usual, and shews occasionally a mis-spelled word. The billowing are the variations : — 1 The lily's hue, and rose's dye. Bespoke the lass o' Ballochmyle. - And all her other charms arc foil'd. 3 if she were. &c. 4 Scotia's "' has (clearly a clerical error in grammar). Our woodcut of the interior of Mossgiel farm house is from a drawing 332 POEMS AND SONGS. [ITftR. by Sir Wm. Allan, kindly lent by its possessor, W. F. "Watson, Esq., Edinburgh. The name of the present tenant of Mossgiel is James "Wyllie, who entered in 1841. He succeeded James Orr, who entered when the Burns family left in 1798. We have only to add that the " Bonie Lass " herself died unmarried in 1843, aged 88. She must thus have been 31 years old in 1786.] MOTTO PREFIXED TO THE AUTHOR'S FIRST PUBLICATION. (Kilmarnock Ed., 1786.) The simple Bard, unbroke by rules of art, He pours the wild effusious of the heart ; And if inspir'd, 'tis Nature's pow'rs inspire ; Her's all the melting thrill, and her's the kindling fire. [The famous Kilmarnock volume of Burns, with the above motto, (evidently his own composition), on its title-page, was ready for dis- tribution on the same day (30th July 1786) on which he penned an excited letter to his friend Richmond in Edinburgh, from " Old Rome Forest," near Kilmarnock. The father of Jean Armour, having learned that the poet had executed a formal conveyance of his personal effects, including the copyright of his poems, and the profits to arise from their sale, in favour of his brother Gilbert, for the up-bringing of his " dear-bought Bess," obtained a legal warrant to apprehend Burns till he should find security to meet the irrespective alimentary claim of his daughter Jean. The poet, through some secret channel, heard of this ; and he thus confided himself to Richmond : — " I am wandering from one friend's house to another, and, like a true son of the Gospel, have nowhere to lay my head. I know you will pour an execration on her head ; but spare the poor, ill-advised girl, for my sake. I write in a moment of rage, reflecting on my miserable situation — exiled, abandoned, forlorn." We have no letters of Burns dated from home during the following month of August, which seems to have been spent in secret journeys from one locality to another, gathering the fruits of his recent publication.] .4-1. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. Goo LINES TO I.IR JOHN KENNEDY. (Cunningham's Ed., 1834.) Farewell, dear friend ! may gude luck hit you, And 'mang her favorites admit you . If e'er Detraction shore a to smit you, May nane believe him, And ony deil that thinks to get you, Good Lord, deceive him ! [The above forms the concluding part of a letter to the same friend to -whom he addressed the lines given at page 261. The letter was written from Kilmarnock, undated, but evidently early in August, for lie says:— "I have at last made my public appearance, and am solemnly inaugurated into the numerous class. Could I have got a carrier, you should have had a score of vouchers for my authorship."] LINES TO AN OLD SWEETHEART. (Currie, 1800.) Once fondly lov'd, and still remember'd dear, Sweet early object of my youthful vows, Accept this mark of friendship, warm, sincere, Friendship ! 'tis all cold duty now allows. And when you read the simple artless rhymes, One friendly sigh for him — he asks no more, Who, distant, burns in flaming torrid climes, Or haply lies beneath th' Atlantic roar. [These lines appeared in Currie's first edition, but were, along with some other very interesting pieces, withdrawn in future editions of his work, even Gilbert Burns omittingto restore them in L820. The poet » offer. 334 POEMS AND SONGS. 1 1786. gave them a place in his MS. collection made for Captain Eiddell, where we find the following heading and note attached : — " Written on the blank leaf of a copy of the first edition of my Poems, which I presented to an old sweetheart, then married. — Tsvas the' girl I mentioned in my letter to Dr Moore, where I speak of taking the sun's altitude. Poor Peggy ! Her husband is my old acquaintance, and a most worthy fellow. When I was taking leave of my Carrick relations, intending to go to the West Indies, when I took farewell of her, neither she nor I could speak a syllable. Her husband escorted me three miles on my road, and we both parted with tears." See pp. 4 and 54 supra.] LINES WRITTEN ON A BANK-NOTE. (Gilbert Burns' Ed., 1820.) Wae worth thy power, thou cursed leaf, Fell source o' a' my woe and grief; For lack o' thee I've lost my lass, For lack o' thee I scrimp my glass : I see the children of affliction Unaided, through thy curst restriction : I've seen the oppressor's cruel smile Amid his hapless victim's spoil ; And for thy potence vainly wished, To crush the villain in the dust: For lack o' thee, I leave this much-lov'd shore, Never, perhaps, to greet old Scotland more. Kyle. R - B - [The note is for one pound of the Bank of Scotland's issue, 1st March 1780. Internal evidence shows that the lines were written about August 1786. So far as appears, they were first printed in the " Morning Chronicle" of 27th May 1814, from which they were transferred to the " Scots Magazine " for September of same year. The original was then in the possession of Mr James F. Gracie of Dumfries. Both the hand- writing and the composition attest its genuineness as a production of Burns.] *rr. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 335 STANZAS ON NAETHING. EXTEMPORE EPISTLE TO GAVIN HAMILTON, ESQ. (Alex. Smith's Ed., 1865.) To you, sir, this summons I've sent, Pray, whip till the pownie is fraething ; a But if you demand what I want, I honestly answer you — naething. Ne'er scorn a poor Poet like me, For idly just living and breathing, While people of every degree Are busy employed about — naething. Poor Centum-per-centum may fast, And grumble his hurdles* 5 their clai thing, He'll find, when the balance is cast, He's gane to the devil for — naething. The courtier cringes and bows, Ambition has likewise its plaything ; A coronet beams on his brows ; And what is a coronet ? — naethins. *=>• Some quarrel the Presbyter gown, Some quarrel Episcopal giai thing; But every good fellow will own The quarrel is a' about — naething. "frothing. b posteriors. "vestments. S3 6 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786 The lover may sparkle and glow, Approaching his bonie bit gay thing ; But marriage will soon let him know He's gotten — a buskit up naething. The Poet may jingle and rhyme, In hopes of a laureate wreathing, And when he has wasted his time, He's kindly rewarded wi' — naething. The thundering bully may rage, And swagger and swear like a heathen ; But collar him fast, I'll engage, You'll find that his courage is — naething. Last night wi' a feminine whig — A poet she couldna put faith in ; But soon we grew lovingly big, I taught her, her terrors were naething. Her whigship was wonderful pleased, But charmingly tickled wi' ae thing ; Her fingers I lovingly squeezed, And kissed her, and promised her — naething The priest anathemas may threat — Predicament, sir, that we're baith in ; But when honor's reveille" is beat, The holy artillery's naething. * And now I must mount on the wave — My voyage perhaps there is death in ; But what is a watery grave ? The drowning a Poet is naething. jet. 2S.] POEMS AXD SONGS. 33/ And now, as grim death's in my thought, To you, sir, I make this bequeathing; My service as long as ye've ought, And my friendship, by God, when ye've naething. [This piece was recorded by the author in the collection of unpublished poems made by him for his friend Ridded of Glenriddell. Alexander Smith obtained it in one of the mauy manuscript scroll books of the poet which Dr Carrie declined to make use of in compiling his edition and biography. It is supposed to have been presented by Burns to Mrs Dunlop sometime in the year 1788. It seems to have passed through several hands, and at each remove to have been denuded of some of its pages. In a tattered condition it came at last into the hands of Mr Macmillan, the London publisher of Smith's edition of Burns. That editor remarks that "the last stanza is almost identical in thought and expression with the closing lines of the well-known Dedication to Gavin Hamilton." That last stanza, together with the one im- mediately preceding, fixes the date of this characteristic effusion as about August 1786. J THE FAREWELL. (Eev. H. Paul's Ed., 1819.) The valiant, in himself, what can he suffer ? Or what does he regard his single woes i But when, alas ! he multiplies himself, To dearer selves, to the lov'd tender fair, To those whose bliss, whose beings hang upon him, To helpless children,— then, Oh then he feels The point of misery festering in his heart, And weakly weeps his fortunes like a coward : Such, such am I ! — undone ! Thomson's Edward and Eleanor a. FAREWELL, old Scotia's bleak domains, Far dearer than the torrid plains, Where rich ananas blow ! Farewell, a mother's blessing dear ! A brother's sigh ! a sister's tear ! My Jean's heart-rending throe ! T. Y 338 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. Farewell, my Bess ! tho' thou'rt bereft Of my paternal care, A faithful brother I have left, My part in him thou'lt share ! Adieu too, to you too, My Smith, my bosom frien' ; When kindly you mind me, then befriend my Jean ! What bursting anguish tears my heart ; From thee, my Jeany, must I part ! Thou, weeping, answ'rest — ' No ! ' Alas ! misfortune stares my face, And points to ruin and disgrace, I for thy sake must go ! Thee, Hamilton, and Aiken dear, A grateful, warm adieu : I, with a much-mdebted tear, Shall still remember you ! All-hail then, the gale then, Wafts me from thee, dear shore ! It rustles, and whistles I'll never see thee more ! [The author's painful anticipation of " Jean's heart-rending throe " in this effusion, seems to prove that it was composed prior to 3rd September 1786, at which date she was delivered of twins, a boy and a girl. It is observable in the poet's correspondence and other productions after that event, that he seems less disposed to carry out his resolution to go abroad. The admiration everywhere expressed for the lately published poems, began to throw a lustre on the name of Burns, and to point his way to a better fate than exile in a torrid clime. The birth of these children, and the improved prospects of the bard, inclined old Mr Armour to come to honourable terms with him. It was agreed that the Mossgiel family should adopt the boy, while Jean herself took charge of the girl, thus dividing the burden of maintenance on both parties equally. A letter penned by Burns to Bobert Muir shortly after the event, indicates the pleasant turn which matters had taken : — "you will have *t. 28.] POEMS AND SOXGS. 339 heard that Armour has repaid me double. A very fine boy and girl have awakened a thought and feelings that thrill, some with tender pleasure, and some with foreboding anguish, through my soul. I believe all hopes of staying at home will be abortive, but more of this when, in the latter part of next week, we shall meet."] THE CALF. (Edinburgh Ed., 1787.) To the Eev. James Steven, on his text, Malachi, ch. iv. vers. 2. " And ye shall go forth, and grow up, as calves of the stall." Right, sir ! your text I'll prove it true, Tho' heretics may laugh ; For instance, there's yoursel just now, God knows, an unco calf. And should 1 some patron be so kind, As bless you wi' a kirk, I doubt na, sir, but then we'll find, Ye're still as great a dirk. But, if the lover's raptur'd 2 hour, Shall 3 ever be your lot, Forbid it, ev'ry heavenly Power, You e'er should be a slot ! Tho', 4 when some 6 kind connubial dear Your but-an'-ben adorns, The like has been that — you may wear A noble head of horns. And, in your lug, 6 most reverend James, To hear you roar and rowte, Few men o' sense will doubt your claims To rank amang the nowte. 340 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. And when ye're number'd \vi' the dead, Below 7 a grassy hillock, With justice they may mark your head — " Here lies a famous bullock ! " [The eventful Sunday, 3d September 1786, which produced the poet's twins towards evening, brought forth this effusion at the morning service in Mauchline kirk. Burns had called upon Mr Gavin Hamilton in his way thither, expecting his friend might be going there too. Mr Hamilton declined going, but requested the poet to bring him a note of the discourse in not fewer than four stanzas of rhyme. A bet was made between them on this point, and accordingly Burns presented four of the above verses to Hamilton immediately after forenoon service. Dr Mackenzie happened to look in at Mr Hamilton's at the same time, and was so tickled with the performance that he extracted from the poet a promise of a copy, which reached him on the evening of same day. That copy, with two extra verses (the fourth and sixth of the text), is now in possession of his son, John Whitefoord Mackenzie, Esq., Edin- burgh, by whose kindness we are enabled to record a few variations, and publish, for the first time, a note from Burns which accompanied the poem. The Bev. James Steven, a native of Kilmarnock, was at this time the young assistant of the Bev. Bobert Dow, of Ardrossan. On the present occasion he merely interchanged pulpits with Mr Auld. In 1787 he was called to London (Crown Court Chapel), and in 1803 was presented to the parochial charge of Kilwinning. He obtained the degree of D.D., and died of apoplexy in 1817. His second son, Charles, became minister of Stewarton. Var. — x And when some patron shall be kind To bless. 2 mystic. 3 should. 4 And. 6 a. 6 to conclude. 7 Beneath. ] NATURE'S LAW— A POEM. HUMBLY INSCRIBED TO GAVIN HAMILTON, ESQ. (Aldine Ed., 1839.) " Great Nature spoke ; observant man obey'd." — Bope. Let other heroes boast their scars, The marks of sturt and strife j And other poets sing of wars, The plagues oi human life ; xr. -28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 311 Shame fa' the fun ; wi' sword and gun To slap mankind like lumber ! I sing his name, and nobler fame, Wha multiplies our number. Great Nature spoke, with air benign, " Go on, ye human race ; This lower world I you resign ; Be fruitful and increase. The liquid fire of strong desire I've pour'd it in each bosom ; Here, on this hand, does Mankind stand, And there, is Beauty's blossom." The Hero of these artless strains, A lowly bard was he, Who sung his rhymes in Coila's plains, With meikle mirth an' glee ; Kind Nature's care had given his share Large, of the flaming current ; And, all devout, he never sought To stem the sacred torrent. He felt the powerful, high behest Thrill, vital, thro' and thro' ; And sought a correspondent breast, To give obedience due : Propitious Powers screen'd the young flow'rs, From mildews of abortion ; And lo ! the bard — a great reward — Has got a double portion ! Auld cantie Coil may count the day, As annual it returns, 342 POEMS AND SONGS. [1736. The third of Libra's equal sway, That gave another Burns, With future rhymes, an' other times, To emulate his sire ; To sing auld Coil in nobler style, With more poetic fire. Ye Powers of peace, and peaceful song, Look down with gracious eyes ; And bless auld Coila, large and long, With multiplying joys ; Lang may she stand to prop the land, The flow'r of ancient nations ; And Burnses spring, her fame to sing, To endless generations ! [This characteristic effusion is written in the same happy vein as " Willie Chalmers," which immediately follows. It celebrates a ruling quality in the constitutional structure of the body and soul of Burns, and reminds us of the epigram he afterwards inscribed on a window- pane of the Globe Tavern, Dumfries : — " The Deities that I adore Are social Peace and Plenty ! I'm better pleased to make one more, Than be the death of twenty." The reference, in the last stanza but one, is to Robert Burns, junior, who, born on 3d September 1786, died at Dumfries, 14th May 1857, in his 71st year. He was a man of solid acquirements, but without any "poetic fire." Every Scotchman, however, will proudly acknowledge the compliment conveyed in the closing stanza.] *a\ 28-] POEMS AND SOXGS. 343 SONG.— WILLIE CHALMERS. (Lockhart's Life of Burns, 1829.) Mr Chalmers, a gentleman in Ayrshire, a particular friend of mine, asked me to write a poetic epistle to a young lady, his Dulcinea. I had seen her, but was scarcely acquainted with her, and wrote as follows : — Wl' braw new branks a in mickle pride, And eke a braw new brechan, b My Pegasus I'm got astride, And up Parnassus pechin ; c Whiles owre a bush wi' downward crush, The doited d beastie stammers ; Then up he gets, and off he sets, For sake o' Willie Chalmers. I doubt na, lass, that weel kenn'd name May cost a pair o' blushes ; I am nae stranger to your fame. Nor his warm urged wishes. Your bonie face, sae mild and sweet, His honest heart enamours, And faith ye'll no be lost a whit, Tho' wair'd e on Willie Chalmers. Auld Truth hersel might swear ye're fair, And Honour safely back her ; And Modesty assume your air, And ne'er a ane mistak her : And sic twa love-inspiring een Might fire even holy palmers ; Nae wonder then they've fatal been To honest Willie Chalmers. " horse-curbing gear. b horse-collar. c breathing hard. d stupid. ° spent. 3 4 4 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. I doubt na fortune may you shore f Some mim-mou'd » pouther'd priestie, Fu' lifted up wi' Hebrew lore, And band upon his breastie : But oh ! what signifies to you His lexicons and grammars ; The feeling heart's the royal blue, And that's wi' Willie Chalmers. Some gapin', glowrin countra laird May warsle h for your favour ; May claw his lug, and straik his beard, And hoast 1 up some palaver : J My bonie maid, before ye wed Sic clumsy-witted hammers, Seek Heaven for help, and barefit skelp k Awa wi' Willie Chalmers. Forgive the Bard ! my fond regard For ane that shares my bosom, Inspires my Muse to gie 'm his dues, For deil a hair I roose 1 him. May powers aboon unite you soon, And fructify your amours, And every year come in mair dear To you and Willie Chalmers. [This curious piece was obtained by Mr Lockhart from Lady Harriet Don, with the explanation as above prefixed, in the poet's own words. His model for the versification was an old Scottish lyric, entitled "Omnia vincet Amor," which will be found in the " Tea Table Miscellany," and also in Johnson's Museum. The reader will afterwards see an interesting letter, which was addressed by the poet to " Willie Chalmers " from Edinburgh, shortly f proffer. g affectedly modest. h strive. ' cough. J nonsensical speech. k spring. ] flatter. ^r. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 345 after his arrival there. He was a writer and notary public in Ayr, who executed the notarial intimation of the poet's assignation in favour of Gibert Burns, on 24th July 1786. He was also employed under a mock mandate, dated 20th November thereafter, to superintend the public burning of a certain " nefarious, abominable, and wicked song or ballad " enclosed to him by Burns, just before leaving Ayrshire for Edinburgh. Lady Harriet Don was sister of the poet's patron Lord Glencairn. She first met him during his Border tour on 12th May 1787, and his remark is — " Dine with Sir Alexander Don, a pretty clever fellow, but far from being a match for his divine lady."] REPLY TO A TRIMMING EPISTLE RECEIVED FROM A TAILOR. (Stewart and Meikle's Tracts, 1799.) What ails ye now, ye lousie b — h, To thresh my back at sic a pitch ? Losh, man ! hae mercy wi' your natch, Your bodkin's bauld ; I didna suffer half sae much Frae Daddie Auld. What tho' at times, when I grow crouse, I gie their wames a random pouse, Is that enough for you to souse Your servant sae ? Gae mind your seam, ye prick-the-louse, An' jag-the-flae ! King David, o' poetic brief, Wrocht 'mang the lasses sic mischief As fill'd his after-lifu wi' grief, An' bluidly rants, An' yet he's rauk'd amang the chief 0' lang-syne saunts. 346 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. And maybe, Tarn, for a' my cants, My wicked rhymes, an' drucken rants, I'll gie auld cloven Clootie's haunts An unco slip yet, An' snugly sit amang the saunts, At Davie's hip yet ! But, fegs ! the Session says I maun Gae fa' upo' anither plan Than garrin lasses coup the cran, Clean heels owre body, An' sairly thole their mother's ban Afore the howdy. This leads me on to tell for sport, How I did wi' the Session sort ; Auld Clinkum, at the inner port, Cried three times, " Robin ! Come hither lad, and answer for 't, Ye're blam'd for jobbin ! " Wi' pinch I put a Sunday's face on, An' snoov'd awa before the Session : I made an open, fair confession — I scorn'd to lee, An' syne Mess John, beyond expression, Fell foul o' me. A fornicator-lown he call'd me, An' said my faut frae bliss expell'd me; I own'd the tale was true he tell'd me, " But, what the matter ? (Quo' I) I fear unless ye geld me, I'll ne'er be better ! " xt. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 347 " Geld you ! (quo' he) an' what for no ? If that your right hand, leg, or toe Should ever prove your spiritual foe, You should remember To cut it aff — an' what for no ? — Your dearest member ! " " Na, na, (quo' I,) I'm no for that, Gelding's nae better than 'tis cat ; I'd rather suffer for my faut, A hearty flewit, As sair owre hip as ye can draw 't, Tho' I should rue it." " Or, gin ye like to end the bother, To please us a' — I've just ae ither — - When next wi' yon lass I forgather, Whate'er betide it, I'll frankly gie her 't a' thegither, An' let her guide it." But, sir, this pleas'd them warst of a', An' therefore, Tarn, when that I saw, I said " Gude night," an' cam' awa', An' left the Session ; I saw they were resolved a' On my oppression. [This rich performance (of its kind) has been reprinted, in a more or less complete form, in most of the standard editions of Burns' poems, Bince it first appeared. The Aldine, which gave it unmutilated, remarks that Cunningham "very decorously omitted the last five stanzas." As we do not approve of presenting an author's production in a garbled state, we prefer giving this piece entire, rather than to omit it altogether. We come to this conclusion the more readily, that •we may have an opportunity of recording our dissent from a certain 348 POEMS AND SONGS. [1786. class of the poet's annotators, who affect to disbelieve that he had any hand in its composition. The person to whom it is addressed was Thomas "Walker, a tailor resi- dent at Pool, near the village of Ochiltree. He was in terms of intimacy with William Simson, the parish schoolmaster there, to whom Burns addressed the poetical Epistle given at page 121 supra. The tailor was rather an eccentric character, and could string rhymes together as fluently, if not so much to the point, as could his friend the Latin Schoolmaster. Having seen Burns' epistle to Simson, which was extracted from the poet of Mossgiel by way of reply to a complimentary letter addressed to him by the dominie, Walker conceived that he might experience the same good-fortune by sending the poet a brotherly epistle. Accord- ingly he composed and strung together a dreary performance of twenty- six stanzas, in Burns' favourite measure, and despatched it to Mossgiel by a secure hand. Here is a sample of the contents, taken from Tom's own recorded copy in his MS. collection, now lying before us : — " Had I a night o' thee or twa, An' guid tobacco for to blaw, Altho' it was baith frost and snaw, I wadna weary ; The crack thou could sae brawly ca', An' keep me cheery. Or could we meet some Mauchline Fair — I sometimes tak a bottle there— Thou'd be as welcome to a share As thou could'st be ; Wae worth the purse that wadna spare A drink to thee !" As may well be conjectured, Burns was not to be caught by such bait as this : by and by, however, the publication of the Kilmarnock volume, seemed, in Tom's eyes, a fair opportunity for renewing the attempt to extract a reply from the poet. He changed his tactics, however, and tried the experiment of rousing the poet by assuming the character of a moral censor. He fortunately exhibited his performance to Simson before despatching it, by whose advice the epistle was reduced in extent from twenty-one to ten stanzas. This required some re-arrange- nient and alterations, which the schoolmaster managed with so much skill, that Allan Cunningham has suggested that Burns himself may have been the author of the " Trimming epistle " as well as the reply to it. Walker's second performance is also now before us, in his own manu- script, and on comparing the original with the " Epistle from a Tailor," as printed by Stewart, the conviction is forced upon us that Simson had as much to do with its composition as Walker had. Both Simson, who died in 1815, and Walker, who was buried in Sorn a few years earlier, saw Stewart's publication attributing the authorship of the verses in the text to Burns — a fact proclaimed by the sn. 28.] POEMS AND SONGS. 349 verses themselves. During the lifetime of those worthies, and not till a quarter of a century thereafter, did any writer ever venture to deny the authorship of the verses to Burns. An absurd theory respecting them, however, has been since started (and eagerly supported by some innovators) that Burns never answered either of the tailor's epistles ; but that Simson composed the reply attributed to Burns, imitated his hand-writing, and desjiatched it by a circuitous route to Walker. It is asserted that the pious tailor swallowed the ruse, but was so horror- stricken by its blasphemy and bawdry, that he consigned it to the flames. The latter fact we shall not dispute, for the original manuscript has not been recovered. We have already adverted to the fact that John Richmond of Mauchline was cousin to Thomas Stewart, the printer and publisher. This at once suggests that Burns had consigned both the "Tailor's Epistle " and a copy of his own " Reply " to Richmond, the Clerk of the "Court of Equity," and that through this source the documents passed into that publisher's hands. To the kindness of the Rev. David Hogg, Kirkmahoe, we are in- debted for the use of Tom Walker's manuscripts above referred to. In early life, that gentleman acted as assistant to William Simson's brother Patrick, in the parish-school of Ochiltree, and obtained Walker's manuscripts from the tailor's representatives in Pool. Walker appears to have at length come out as an author ; for James Paterson records, in his " Contemporaries of Burns," that he published a pamphlet called " A Picture of the World."] 11'BKBl'I.L AND SPEARS, PltlNTKIIS, KDlNBLK'.ll DATE DUE 1 CAYLOR3 PRINTED IN U.S.A. PR4J00 1895 F.J v.l Burns, Robert, I 739-1796. line works of Robert Jurns UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY AA 000 622 420 8 RIVE" mil ''ivil0 0Vl976410 HHflHIII 1111 It 1 1 I Hill] 1 111 llllllli Hill 11 llll WM II IIHHUnliNre