POEM S, CHIEFLY SCOTTISH

NOTES CRITICAL AND HISTORICAL ADDED. TO THE HEADER.

BEFORE perusal of these wonderful Poems, chiefly in the Scottish Dialect, it may be of importance to the general reader to have some authoritative rule for pronouncing the language. The following directions by the Author himself, although usually reserved for an Appendix, are therefore prefixed the one from the Kilmarnock, the other from the Edinburgh Edition :

The terminations be thus the may known ; participle present, instead of ing, ends, in the Scotch Dialect, in an or in; in an, particularly, when the verb is composed of the participle present, and any of the tenses of the auxiliary, to be. The past time and participle past are usually made by shortening the ed into '.

The ch and gh have always the guttural sound. The sound of the English diphthong oo, is commonly spelled ou. The French u, a sound which often occurs in the Scotch language, is marked oo, or ui. The a in genuine Scotch words, except when forming a diphthong, or followed by an e mute after a single consonant, sounds generally like the broad English a in watt. The Scotch diphthongs, ae always, and ea very often, sound like the French

To these may be added the following other general rules :

1. That ea, ei, ie, diphthongs, = ee, English: 2. That ow, final, in words at least of one syllable, = ou, English :

3. That owe, or ow-e, in like situations, ...... = ow, English : 4. That ch, initial or final, is generally soft, = ch, English; otherwise, or in such syllables as och, ach, aueh, hard, = gh, German : 5. That d, final, after n, although printed, is scarcely ever pronounced, and, when pronounced, has generally an effect = nn, as blind = blinn; in some cases, has the opposite effect of lengthening or opening the preceding vowel, as if = ne, as kind = Jcine;

in a . . be : and very few special instances, is . . = nt, as behind = hint 6. That in every doubtful syllable, a foreign reader should prefer a long, broad, deep, deliberate articulation the the the throat. ; confining sound as much as possible between palate and

Too much attention cannot be paid to the observance of these rules. One might as well persist in reading Dutch or German with the liquid articulation of the Italian, as Scotch with the open symphonies of the English tongue. Its commingled force and beauty, and that peculiar untranslate- able sense which is indissolubly connected with the sound, can only be conveyed together by correct pronunciation; by the neglect or infringement of which, therefore, an immense amount both of meaning and of harmony will be lost to the reader of the language, and the student of Robert Burns. In Burns there are a few to rules but in all such cases the himself, apparent exceptions these very ; reader will find, that the variation in reality amounts to nothing more than the use of an occasional English form, to suit the requirements of a verse where four or five rhymes would be sacrificed together, if such temporary accommodation were denied.

>W/Q/I (?b J PEEFACE.

[FEOM KILMABNOCK EDITION 1786 VEEBATIM.]

THE following trifles are not the production of the Poet, who, with all the advantages of learned for a art, and perhaps amid the elegancies and idlenesses of upper life, looks down rural theme, with an eye to Theocrites or Virgil. To the Author of this, these and other celebrated names ' their countrymen are, in their original languages, A fountain shut up, and a book sealed.' Unacquainted with the necessary requisites for commencing Poet by rule, he sings the sentiments and manners, he felt and saw in himself and his rustic compeers around him, in his and their native language. Though a Rhymer from his earliest years, at least from the earliest impulses of the softer passions, it was not till very lately, that the applause, perhaps the partiality, of Friend- ship, wakened his vanity so far as to make him think any thing of his was worth showing; and none of the following works were ever composed with a view to the press. To amuse himself little creations of his amid the toil of a laborious life to tran- with the own fancy, and fatigues ; scribe the various feelings, the loves, the griefs, the hopes, the fears, in his own breast; to find some kind of counterpoise to the struggles of a world, always an alien scene, a task uncouth to the poetical mind; these were his motives for courting the Muses, and in these he found Poetry to be its own reward. Now that he appears in the public character of an Author, he does it with fear and trembling. So dear is fame to the rhyming tribe, that even he, an obscure, nameless Bard, shrinks aghast at the thought of being branded as 'An impertinent blockhead, obtruding his nonsense on the world; and because he can make a shift to jingle a few doggerel Scotch rhymes together, looks upon himself as a Poet of no small consequence forsooth.' It is an observation of that celebrated Poet,* whose divine Elegies do honor to our language, our nation, and our species, that 'Humility has depressed many a genius to a hermit, but never raised one to fame.' If any Critic catches at the word genius, the Author tells him, once for all, that he certainly looks upon himself as possest of. some poetic abilities, otherwise his publishing in the manner he has done, would be a manoeuvre below the worst character, which, he hopes, his worst enemy will ever give him: but to the genius of a Ramsay, or the glorious dawnings of the poor, unfortunate Ferguson, he, with equal unaffected sincerity, declares, that, even in his highest pulse of vanity, he has not the most distant pretensions. These two justly-admired Scotch Poets he has often had in his in the but rather with a view to eye following pieces ; kindle at their flame, than for servile imitation. To his Subscribers, the Author returns his most sincere thanks. Not the mercenary bow over a counter, but the heart-throbbing gratitude of the Bard, conscious how much he is indebted to

Benevolence and Friendship, for gratifying him, if he deserves it, in that dearest wish of every poetic bosom to be distinguished. He begs his readers, particularly the Learned and the Polite, who may honor him with a perusal, that they will make every allowance for Education and Circumstances of Life : but, if after a fair, candid, and impartial criticism, he shall stand convicted of Dulness and Nonsense, let him be done by as he would in that case do by others let him be condemned, without mercy, to contempt and oblivion.

* Shenstone. DEDICATION.

TO THE NOBLEMEN AND GENTLEMEN OF THE CALEDONIAN HUNT.

[FEOM EDINBURGH EDITION 1787 VEKBATIM.]

MY LORDS AND GENTLEMEN, A SCOTTISH Bard, proud of the name, and whose highest ambition is to sing in his Country's service, where shall he so properly look for patronage as to the illustrious Names of his native the virtues of their ? Land : those who bear the honours and inherit Ancestors The poetic Genius of my country found me, as the prophetic bard Elijah did Elisha at the PLOUGH, and threw her inspiring mantle over me. She bade me sing the loves, the joys, the rural scenes and rural

: I tuned artless as pleasures of my natal soil, in my native tongue my wild, notes, she inspired. She whispered me to come to this ancient metropolis of Caledonia, and lay my Songs under your honoured protection : I now obey her dictates. Though much indebted to your goodness, I do not approach you, my Lords and Gentlemen, in the usual stile of dedication, to thank you for past favours : that path is so hackneyed by prostituted Learning, that honest Rusticity is ashamed of it. Nor do I present this address with the venal soul of a servile author, looking for a continuation of those favours : I was bred to the Plough, and am independent. I come to claim the common Scottish name with you, my illustrious and to tell the world that I in the title. I come to countrymen ; glory congratulate that the blood of her ancient heroes still runs uncontaminated and that from my country ; your courage, knowledge, and public spirit, she may expect protection, wealth, and liberty. In the last place, I come to proffer my warmest wishes to the great Fountain of Honour, the Monarch of the Universe, for your welfare and happiness. When you go forth to waken the Echoes, in the ancient and favourite amusement of your forefathers, may Pleasure ever be of your party; and may Social-joy await your return! When harassed in courts or camps with the justlings of bad men and bad measures, may the honest attend return to native seats consciousness of injured Worth your your ; and may Domestic Happi- ness, with a smiling welcome, meet you at your gates! May Corruption shrink at your kindling indignant glance; and may tyranny in the Ruler, and licentiousness in the People equally find you an inexorable foe ! 1 have the honour to be,

With the siiicerest gratitude and highest respect, MY LORDS AND GENTLEMEN, Your most devoted humble servant, ROBERT BURNS.

EDINBURGH, April 4, 1787. * See Notes Preface and Dedication.

POEMS, CHIEF LY SCOTTISH

But he wad stan't, as glad to see him, An' stroan't on stanes an' hillocks wi' him. A TALE.

The tither was a ploughman's collie, A rhymin, rantin, ravin billie, Wha for his friend an' comrade had him, And in his freaks had Luath ca'd him, 'TWAS in that place o' Scotland's isle, After some dog in Highland sang, That bears the name o' auld king Coil, Was made lang syne Lord knows how lang. Upon a bonie day in June, When wearin thro' the afternoon, He was a gash an' faithfu' tyke, Twa Dogs, that were na thrang at hame, As ever lap a sheugh or dyke. Forgather'd ance upon a time. His honest, sonsie, baws'nt face him friends in ilka Ay gat place ;

The first I'll name, they ca'd him Csesar, His breast was white, his towzie back .

for His Honor's : Weel clad wi' coat o' black Was keepet pleasure glossy ; His hair, his size, his mouth, his lugs, His gawsie tail, wi' upward curl, Shew'd he was nane o' Scotland's owre his hurdies wi' a swirl. dogs ; Hung But whalpet some place far abroad, Whare sailors gang to fish for Cod. Nae doubt but they were fain o' ither, An' unco an' thick pack thegither ; His letter' braw brass collar Wi' social nose snuffd an' locked, d, whyles snowket ;

Shew'd him the an' scholar : mice an' modewurks howket gentleman Whyles they ; But tho' he was o' high degree, Whyles scour'd awa in lang excursion, The fient a nae had he An' ither in diversion pride, pride ; worry'd ; But wad hae spent an hour caressan, Till tir'd at last wi' mony a farce,

Ev'n wi' a tinkler-gipsey's messan : They set them down upon their arse, At kirk or market, mill or smiddie, An' there began a lang digression Nae tawted tyke, tho' e'er sae duddie, About the lords o' the creation. LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS.

An' buirdly chiels, an' clever hizzies, Are bred in sic a way as this is. I've aften wonder' d, honest Luath, What sort o' life like have poor dogs you ; OffiSAR. An' when the gentry's life I saw, What way poor bodies liv'd ava. But then to see how ye're neglecket, How an' an' huff'd, cuff'd, disrespecket ! Our Laird gets in his racked rents, L d man, our gentry care as little His coals, his kane, an' a' his stents : For an' delvers, ditchers, sic cattle ; He rises when he likes himsel ; as They gang saucy by poor folk, His flunkies answer at the bell ; As I wad by a stinkan brock. He ca's his coach ; he ca's his horse ; He draws a borne silken purse, I've notic'd, on our Laird's court-day, As lang's my tail, whare, thro' the steeks, An' mony a time my heart's been wae, The yellow letter' d-Geordie keeks. Poor tenant bodies, scant o' cash, How maun thole a factor's they snash ; Frae morn to e'en it's nought but toilin, He'll stamp an' threaten, curse an' swear, At boilin bakin, roastin, fryin, ; He'll their apprehend them, poind gear ; An' tho' the gentry first are steghan, While they maun stan', wi' aspect humble, Yet ev'n the ha' folk fill their peghan An' hear it a', an' fear an' tremble ! Wi' sauce, ragouts, and sic like trashtrie, That's little short o' wastrie. downright I see how folk live that hae riches ; Our wee blastet whipper-in, wonner, But surely poor-folk maun be wretches ! Poor worthless elf, it eats a dinner, Better than ony Tenant-man

His Honor has in a' the Ian' : LUATH.

An' what poor Cot-folk pit their painch in, They're no sae wretched's ane wad think I own it's past my comprehension. Tho' constantly on poortith's brink, sae accustom'd wi' the LUATII. They're sight, The view o't gies them little fright.

Trowth, Csesar, whyles they're fash't eneugli : A Cotter howkan in a sheugh, Then chance an' fortune are sae guided, Wi' stanes a in less or mair dirty biggan dyke, They're ay provided ; Bairan a an' sic like An' tho' wi' close quarry, ; fatigu'd employment, Himsel, a wife, he thus sustains, A blink o' rest's a sweet enjoyment. A smytrie o' wee duddie weans, An' nought but his han'-daurg, to keep The dearest comfort o' their lives' an' in thack an' Their weans an' faithfu' Them right tight raep. grushie wives ;

The prattling things are just their pride, An' when they meet wi' sair disasters, That sweetens a' their fire-side. Like loss o' health or want o' masters, Ye maist wad think, a wee touch langer, An' whyles twalpennie worth o' nappy

An' they maun starve o' cauld and hunger : Can mak the bodies unco happy : But how it comes, I never kent yet, They lay aside their private cares, wonderfu' contented To mind the Kirk and State affairs They're maistly ; ; FIRST EDITIONS.] OF ROBERT BURNS.

They'll talk o' patronage an' priests, To mak a tour an' tak a whirl, Wi' kindling fury in their breasts, To learn bon ton an' see the worl'. Or tell what new taxation's comin,

An' ferlie at the folk in Lon'on. There, at Vienna or Versailles, He rives his father's auld entails ; As bleak-fac'd Hallowmass returns, Or by Madrid he taks the rout, the rantan To thrum an' fecht wi' nowt They get jovial, kirns, guitars ; Or When rural life, o' ev'ry station, down Italian vista startles,

recreation o' : Unite in common ; Wh-re-hunting amang groves myrtles Love blinks, Wit slaps, an' social Mirth Then bowses drumlie German-water, Forgets there's care upo' the earth. To mak himsel look fair and fatter, An' clear the consequential sorrows, That merry day the year begins, Love-gifts of Carnival Signoras. on win's They bar the door frosty ; The nappy reeks wi' mantling ream, For Britain's guid ! for her destruction ! steam Wi' feud an' faction. An' sheds a heart-inspiring ; dissipation, The luntan pipe, an' sneeshin mill, round wi' will Are handed right good ; LUATH. The cantie auld folks crackan crouse, The young anes rantan thro' the house Hech man ! dear sirs ! is that the gate My heart has been sae fain to see them, They waste sae mony a braw estate ? That I for joy hae barket wi' them. Are we sae foughten an' harass'd For gear to gang that gate at last ? Still it's owre true that ye hae said, Sic game is now owre aften play'd. would they stay aback frae courts, There's mony a creditable stock An' please themsels wi' countra sports, 0' decent, honest, fawsont folk, It wad for every ane be better, Are riven out baith root an' branch, The Laird, the Tenant, an' the Cotter! Some rascal's pridefu' greed to quench, For thae frank, rantan, ramblan billies, Wha thinks to knit himsel the faster Fient haet o' them's ill-hearted fellows ; In favor wi' some gentle Master, Except for breakin o' their timmer, Wha, aiblins thrang a parliamentin, Or speakiii lightly o' their Limmer, For Britain's guid his saul indentin Or shootin o' a hare or moor-cock, The ne'er-a-bit they're ill to poor folk.

C^SAR. But will ye tell me, master Csesar, Sure great folk's life 's a life o' pleasure? Haith, lad, ye little ken about it : Nae cauld nor hunger e'er can steer them, For Britain's guid ! guid faith ! I doubt it. The vera thought o't need na fear them. Say rather, gaun as Premiers lead him,

An' saying aye or no's they bid him : At operas an' plays paradin, CAESAR.

Mortgagin, gamblin, masqueradin : Or may be, in a frolic daft, L d man, were ye but whyles whare I am, To Hague or Calais taks a waft, The gentles ye wad ne'er envy them ! LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS.

It's need na starve or true, they sweat, By this, the sun was out o' sight,

Thro' Winter's or Simmer's heat ; An' darker cauld, gloamin brought the night : nae sair-wark to craze their banes, The bum-clock humm'd wi' They've lazy drone ;

An' fill with and : The stood i' atild-age grips granes kye rowtan the loan ; But human-bodies are sic fools, When up they gat, an' shook their lugs, For a' their an' were na colledges schools, Rejoic'd they men, but dogs ; That when nae real ills perplex them, An' each took aff his several way,

inak enow themsels to vex them ; They Resolv'd to meet some ither day. 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 he's Scotch Brink. tilPd, right eneugh ;

A country girl at her wheel, she's Her dizzen's done, unco weel ; But Gentlemen, an' Ladies warst, Gie him strong Drink, until ho wink, That's in Wi' ev'n down want o' wark are curst. sinking despair ; An' liquor guid to fire his bluid, lank an' loiter, lounging, lazy ; They That's prest wi' grief an' care : Tho' deil-haet ails them, yet uneasy : There let him bowse, an' deep carouse, dull an' tasteless Wi' bumpers flowing o'er, Their days, insipid, ; Till he forgets his loves or debts, Their nights, unquiet, lang an' restless. An' minds his griefs no more. An' ev'n their their balls an' races, sports, SOLOMON'S PROVERBS, xxxi. 6, 7. Their gallopin through public places, There's sic parade, sic pomp an' art, The can scarcely reach the heart. joy LET ither Poets raise a fracas 'Bout vines, an' wines, an' drukken Bacchus, An' crabbet names an' stories wrack The Men cast out in party-matches, us,

An' our : Then sowther a' in deep debauches. grate lug I sing the juice Scotch bear can mak us, Ae night they're mad wi' drink an' wh-rin, In or Niest day their life is past endurin. glass jug. The Ladies arm-in-arm in clusters,

Muse ! auld Scotch Drink ! an' a' as sisters thou, my guid As great gracious ; Whether thro' wimplin worms thou But hear then* absent thoughts o' ither, jink, Or, richly brown, ream owre the brink, They're a' run-deils an' jads thegither. In glorious faem, Whyles, owre the wee bit cup an' platie, the Inspire me, till I lisp an' wink, They sip scandal-potion pretty ; To sing name ! Or lee-lang nights, wi' crabbet leuks thy devil's Pore owre the pictur'd beuks ; Let Wheat the adorn, Stake on a chance a farmer's stackyard, husky haughs An' Aits set their awnie horn, An' cheat like ony unhang'd blackguard. up An' Pease and Beans, at e'en or morn,

Perfume the plain : There's some an' on John exceptions, man woman ; Leeze me thee, Barleycorn, life in But this is Gentry's common. Thou king o' grain ! FIRST EDITIONS.] OF ROBERT BURNS.

On tliee aft Scotland chows her cood, rare ! to see thee fizz an' freath

wale o' food ! I' th' In souple scones, the lugget caup ! Or tumblin in the boilin flood Then Burn-e-win conies 011 like Death

Wi' kail an' beef; At ev'ry chaup. But when thou pours thy strong heart's blood, Nae for airn or steel There thou shines chief. mercy, then, ; The brawnie, bainie, ploughman chiel, hard wi' an' us livin Brings owrehip, sturdy wheel, Food fills the wame, keeps ; The forehammcr strong ; Tho' life's a gift no worth receivin, Till block an' studdie an' wi' an' ring reel, When heavy-dragg'd pine grievin ; Wi' dinsome clamour. But, oil'd by thee, The wheels o' life gae down-hill, scrievin, When skirlin weanies see the light, Wi' rattlin glee. Thou maks the gossips' clatter bright, fumblin cuifs their dearies How slight ; Thou clears the head o' doited Lear ; Wae worth the name ! o' Thou cheers the heart drooping Care ; Nae howdie gets a social night, Thou the nerves o' Labor-sair, strings Or plack frae them. toil At's weary ; Thou even dark brightens Despair When neebors anger at a plea, Wi' smile. gloomy An' just as wud as wud can be, How easy can the barley-bree

Aft, clad in massy siller weed, Cement the quarrel ! erects head It's the Wi' gentles thou thy ; aye cheapest lawyer's fee, Yet humbly kind in time o' need, To taste the barrel. The poor man's wine;

Alake ! that e'er Muse has reason His wee drap parritch, or his bread, my Thou kitchens fine. To wyte her countrymen wi' treason ! But mony daily weet their weason Wi' liquors nice, life o' haunts Thou art the public ; An' hardly, in a winter's season, But thee, what were our fairs and rants 1 E'er spier her price. Ev'n godly meetings o' the saunts, By thee inspir'd, Wae worth that Brandy, burnan trash ! When gaping they besiege the tents, Fell source o' mony a pain an' brash ! Are doubly fir'd. Twins mony a poor, doylt, drukken hash, 0' half his days ; we the corn That merry night get in, An' sends, beside, auld Scotland's cash

horn in ! sweetly, then, thou reams the To her warst faes. Or reekan on a New-year mornin

In cog or bicker, Ye Scots, wha wish auld Scotland well !

burn : An' just a wee drap sp'ritual in, Ye chief, to you my tale I tell An' gusty sucker ! Poor, plackless devils like mysel, It sets you ill, Wi' dearthfu' wines to mell, When Vulcan gies his bellys breath, bitter, Or An' ploughmen gather wi' their graith, foreign gill. LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS.

THE AUTHOR'S May gravels round his blather wrench, An' gouts torment him inch by inch, OTrg atrb Wha twists his gruntle wi' a glunch TO THE EIGHT HONORABLE AND THE SCOTCH 0' sour disdain, HONORABLE, REPRESENTATIVES IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS. Out owre a glass of whisky-punch

Wi' honest men !

Dearest of Distillation ! last and best- an' ! Whisky ! soul o' plays pranks How art thou lost ! Accept a Bardie's gratefu' thanks ! PARODY ON MILTON. When wanting thee, what tuneless cranks

Are my poor verses !

Thou comes rattle i' their ranks they YE Irish lords, ye knights an' squires,

At ither's arses ! Wha represent our Brughs and Shires, An' doucely manage our affairs

Ferintosh ! lost ! Thee, sadly In parliament,

Scotland lament frae coast to coast ! To you a simple Bardie's pray'rs Now colic-grips, an' barkin hoast, Are humbly sent. kill us a' May ; For Forbes' charter'd boast loyal Alas ! my roupet Muse is hearse !

Is taen awa ! Your Honors' hearts wi' grief 'twad pierce, To see her sittan on her arse Thae curst horse-leeches o' th' Excise, Low i' the dust, Wha mak the stells their Whisky prize An' scriechan out prosaic verse,

Haud Deil ! thrice ! up thy han', ance, twice, An' like to brust !

There, seize the blinkers ! An' bake them in brunstane up pies Tell them wha hae the chief direction, For d n'd Drinkers. poor Scotland an' me's in great affliction, E'er sin' they laid that curst restriction Fortune ! if thou'll but gie me still On aqua-vitse ; Hale a an' breeks, scone, whisky gill, An' rouse them up to strong conviction, An' rowth o' to rave at will, rhyme An' move their pity. Tak a' the rest, An' deal't about as blind skill thy Stand forth, an' tell yon Premier Youth Directs thee best. The honest, open, naked truth : Tell him o' mine an' Scotland's drouth,

His servants humble : The muckle devil blaw ye south,

If ye dissemble !

Does ony great man glunch an' gloom?

Speak out, an' never fash your thumb ! Let posts an' pensions sink or soom Wi' them wha grant them If honestly they canna come, Far better want them. FIRST EDITIONS.] OF ROBERT BURNS. 11

na slack An' wi' In gath'rin votes you were ; rhetoric clause on clause

Now stand as tack : To mak tightly by your harangues ; Ne'er claw your lug, an' fidge your back, Then echo thro' Saint Stephen's wa's An' hum an' haw ; Auld Scotland's wrangs. But raise your arm, an' tell your crack a true blue I'se Before them a'. Dempster, Scot warran ; chaste Thee, aith-detesting, Kilkerran ; An' that owre her thrissle glib-gabbet Highland baron, Paint Scotland greetan ; The Laird o' Graham as toom's a whissle ; Her mutchkin-stowp ; An' ane, a that's d-mn'd An' d-mn'd Excisemen in a bussle, chap auldfarran,

Dundas his name : Seizan a stell, Triumphant crushan't like a mussel a billie Erskine, spunkie Norland ; Or lampet shell. True Frederick an' Campbells, Hay ; An' Livistone, the bauld Sir Willie ; Then on the tither hand present her An' mony ithers, A blackguard smuggler right behint her, "Wham auld Demosthenes or Tully An' cheek-for-chow, a chuffie vintner, Might own for blithers : Colleaguing join, Pickin her as bare as winter pouch Arouse, my boys ! exert your mettle, Of a' kind coin. To auld Scotland get back her kettle ;

Or faith ! I'll wad my new pleugh-pettle, Is there, that bears the name o' Scot, Ye'll see't or lang, But feels his heart's bluid rising hot, She'll teach you, wi' a reekan whittle, To see his poor auld Mither's pot Anither sang. Thus dung in staves, This while she's been in crankous An' plunder'd o' her hindmost groat mood, Her lost Militia fir'd her bluid By gallows knaves ? ; (Deil na they never mair do guid, her Play'd that pliskie !) Alas ! I'm but a nameless wight, An' now she's like to lin red-wud Trode i' the mire out o' sight ! About her Whisky. But could I like Montgomeries fight, Or gab like Boswell, An' L d ! if ance they pit her till't, There's some sark-necks I wad draw tight, Her tartan petticoat she'll kilt, An' tie some hose well. An' durk an' pistol at her belt,

She'll tak the streets, God bless your Honors, can ye see't, An' rin her whittle to the hilt, The kind, auld, cantie Carlin greet, I' the first she meets ! An' no get warmly to your feet, An' them hear gar it, For G-d-sake, Sirs ! then speak her fair, An' tell them wi' a patriot-heat, An' straik her cannie wi' the hair, Ye winna bear it ? An' to the muckle house repair, Wi' instant speed, Some o' you nicely ken the laws, An' strive, wi' a' your wit and lear, To round the period an' pause, To get remead. 12 LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS.

Yon ill-tongu'd tinkler, Charlie Fox, taunt wi' his an' mocks May you jeers ;

But gie him't het, my hearty cocks !

E'en cowe the cadie ! An' send him to his dicin-box LET half-starv'd slaves in warmer skies

An' See future rich rise sportin lady. wines, clust'ring, ; Their lot auld Scotland ne'er envies,

Tell yon guid bluid o' auld Boconnock's, But blythe and frisky, I'll be his debt twa mashlum bonnocks, She eyes her freeborn, martial boys An' drink his health in auld Nanse Tinnock's Tak aif their whisky. Nine times a-week, If he some scheme, like tea an' winnocks, What tho' their Phoebus kinder warms, seek. While Wad kindly Fragrance blooms and Beauty charms ! When wretches range, in famish'd swarms, Could he some commutation The scented broach, groves ; I'll pledge my aith in guid braid Scotch, Or hounded forth, Dishonor arms He need na fear their foul reproach In hungry droves ? Nor erudition, Yon mixtie-maxtie Their a burden on their queer hotch-potch, gun's shouther ; The Coalition. downa bide the stink o' They powther ; Their bauldest thought's a hank'rin swither has a raucle Auld Scotland tongue ; To stan' or rin, She's a devil wi' a Till a shot just rung ; skelp they're aff, a' throw'ther, An' if she promise auld or young To save their skin. To tak their part, But a Tho' by the neck she should be strung, bring Scotchman frae his hill, in his She'll no desert. Clap cheek a Highland gill, Say, such is royal George's will, An' now, ye chosen Five-and-Forty, An' 'there's the foe, still Mither's heart He has nae but how to kill May your support ye ; thought Then, tho' a Minister grow dorty, Twa at a blow. An' kick your place, Ye'll snap your fingers, poor an' hearty, Nae cauld, faint-hearted doubtings tease him: Before his Death wi' fearless he sees him face. comes, eye ; Wi' hand a welcome him bluidy gies ;

God bless your Honors a' your days, An' when he fa's, Wi' sowps o' kail and brats o' claise, His latest draught o' breathin lea'es him In spite o' a' the thievish kaes, In faint huzzas.

That haunt St. Jamie's !

Your humble Bardie sings an' prays, Sages their solemn een may steek, While Rab his name is. An' raise a philosophic reek, An' physically causes seek, In clime an' season ; But tell me Whisky's name in Greek, I'll tell the reason. m^

FIRST EDITIONS.] OF ROBERT BURNS.

Scotland, my auld, respected Mither ! III. Tho' whyles ye moistify your leather, The twa appear'd like sisters twin, Till whare ye sit, on craps o' heather, In an' feature, form, claes ; tine dam Ye ; your Their visage wither'd, lang an' thin, Freedom and thegither Whisky gang An' sour as ony slaes : Tak aff dram ! your 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.

Jair. IV. " Wi' bonnet aff, quoth I, Sweet lass, robe of truth and trust I think to ken A seeming ye seem me ; Hid Observation crafty ; I'm sure I've seen that bonie face, And secret hung, with poison'd crust, But I canna name The dirk of Defamation : yet ye." A mask that like the gorget show'd, Quo' she, an' laughan as she spak, on the Dye-varying, pigeon ; An' taks me by the ban's, And for a mantle large and broad, " Ye, for my sake, hae gien the feck He wrapt him in Religion. HYPOCEISY A-LA-MODE. Of a' the Ten Commauns

A screed some day.'

I. V. " UPON a simmer Sunday morn, My name is Fun your cronie dear, Nature's face is When fair, The nearest friend ye hae ; I walked forth to view the corn, An' this is Superstition here, An' snuff the caller air. An' that's Hypocrisy. The rising sun, owre Galston muirs, I'm gaun to [Mauchline] Holy Fair,

Wi' was an hour in daffin : glorious light glintan ; To spend runkl'd The hares were hirplan down the furrs, Gin ye'll go there, yon pair, The lav'rocks they were chantan We will get famous laughiri Fu' sweet that day. At them this day."

II. VI.

" a' I'll As lightsomely I glowr'd abroad, Quoth I, Wi' my heart, do't; To aee a scene sae gay, I'll get my Sunday's sark on, on the Three Hizzies, early at the road, An' meet you holy spot ; Cam skelpan up the way. Faith, we'se hae fine remarkin!" Twa had manteeles o' dolefu' black, Then I gaed hame at crowdie-time,

wi' An' soon I made me ; But ane lyart lining ; ready to The third, that gaed a wee a-back, For roads were clad, frae side side, wearie Was in the fashion shining, Wi' mony a body, In droves that Fu' gay that day. day. [POETICAL WORKS.

VII. XL

Here farmers gash, in ridin graith, happy is that man, an' blest !

hoddan their cotters Nae wonder that it him ! Gaed by ; pride There swankies young, in braw braid-claith, Whase ain dear lass, that he likes best,

Are springan owre the gutters. Comes clinkan down beside him ! The lasses, skelpan barefit, thrang, Wi' arm repos'd on the chair back, silks He does him In an' scarlets glitter ; sweetly compose ; Wi' sweet-milk cheese, in mony a whang, Which, by degrees, slips round her neck, An' farls, bak'd wi' butter, An's loof upon her bosom Fu' crump that day. Unkend that day.

VIII. XII.

a' the o'er When by the 'plate' we set our nose, Now congregation Is silent Weel heaped up wi' ha'pence, expectation ; A greedy glowr 'Black-bonnet' throws, For [Moodie] speels the holy door, An' we maun draw our tippence. Wi' tidings o' salvation. in Then in we go to see the show : Should ffornie, as ancient days, side sons o' God On ev'ry they're gath'ran ; 'Mang present him, Some carryan dails, some chairs an' stools, The vera sight o' [Moodie's] face, An' some are busy bleth'ran To's ain het hame had sent him Right loud that day. Wi' fright that day.

IX. XIII.

Here stands a shed to fend the show'rs, Hear how he clears the points o' Faith

Wi' rattlin and ! An' screen our countra Gentry ; thumpin

' There racer Jess,' an' twathree wh-res, Now meekly calm, now wild in wrath,

Are blinkan at the entry. He's stampan, an' he's jumpan 1 Here sits a raw o' tittlan jads, His lengthen'd chin, his turned-up snout, eldritch an' Wi' heavin breasts an' bare neck ; His squeel gestures, An' there a batch o' wabster lads, how they fire the heart devout, Blackguardin frae Kilmarnock Like cantharidian plaisters

For fun this day. On sic a day !

X. XIV.

! the tent has it's voice Here some are thinkan on their sins, But hark chang'd ;

An' their claes There's an' rest nae ; some upo' ; peace langer real Ane curses feet that fyI'd, his shins, For a' the judges rise, canna sit for Anither sighs an' prays : They anger. On this hand sits an Elect swatch, [Smith] opens out his cauld harangues,

Wi' faces On and on morals ; screw'd-up, grace-proud ; practice On that a set o' chaps, at watch, An' aff the godly pour in thrangs, Thrang winkan on the lasses To gie the jars an' barrels lift that To chairs that day. A day. FIRST EDITIONS.] OF ROBERT BURNS.

XV. XIX.

What signifies his barren shine, Leeze me on Drink I it gies us mair moral an' reason ? Than either Of pow'rs School or Colledge : His English style, an' gesture fine It kendles Wit, it waukens Lear, Are a' clean out o' season. It pangs us fou o' Knowledge. Like Socrates or Antonine, Be't whisky-gill or penny-wheep, Or some auld pagan heathen, Or ony stronger potion, The moral man he does define, It never fails, on drinkin deep, But ne'er a word o' faith in To kittle up our notion, That's light that day. By night or day.

XVI. XX.

In guid time comes an antidote The lads an' lasses, blythely bent sic nostrum To mind baith saul an' Against poosion'd ; body, For [Peebles] frae the water-fit, Sit round the table, weel content,

Ascends the holy rostrum : An' steer about the toddy. he's the word o' On this ane's an' that ane's See, up got G , dress, leuk, an' makin An' meek mim has view'd it, They're observations ; While Common-Sense has taen the road, While some are cozie i' the neuk, An' An' aff, an' up the Cowgate forming assignations Fast, fast that day. To meet some day.

XVII. XXI.

Wee [Miller] niest the Guard relieves, But now the L 's ain trumpet touts, * An' Orthodoxy raibles, Till a' the hills are rairan, An' echos back return the Tho' in his heart he weel believes, shouts ;

An' thinks it auld wives' fables : Black [Russell] is na spairan :

But faith ! the birkie wants a Manse, His piercin words, like Highlan swords, Divide the an' So, cannilie he hums them ; joints marrow ; Altho' his carnal Wit an' Sense His talk o' H-ll, whare devils dwell, " " Like hafflins-wise o'ercomes him Our vera Sauls does harrow

At times that day. Wi' fright that day!

XVIII. XXII.

Now, butt an' ben, the Change-house fills, A vast, unbottom'd, boundless Pit,

Wi' yill-caup Commentators : Fill'd fou o' lowan brunstane,

Here's cryin out for bakes an' gills, Whase ragin flame, an' scorchin heat,

An' there the clatters melt the hardest ! pint-stowp ; Wad whun-stane While thick an' thrang, an' loud an' lang, The half-asleep start up wi' fear, Wi' Logic, an' wi' Scripture, An' think they hear it roaran, They raise a din, that, in the end, When presently it does appear, Is like to breed a rupture 'Twas but some neebor snoran 0' wrath that day. Asleep that day. LIFE AND WORKS [rOETICAL WORKS.

XXIII. XXVII.

'Twad be owre lang a tale to tell, How mony hearts this day converts,

stories 0' sinners and o' lasses ! How mony past ; the Their o' An' how they crouded to yill, hearts stane, gin night, are gane When they were a' dismist : As saft as ony flesh is. an' How drink gaed round, in cogs caups, There's some are fou o' love divine : the furms an' benches There's some are fou o' Amang ; brandy ; An' cheese an' bread, frae women's laps, An' mony jobs that day begin, Was dealt about in lunches, May end in 'Houghmagandie' An' dawds that day. Some ither day.

XXIV.

In comes a gawsie, gash Guidwife, Btath anb Dr. An' sits down by the fire, 3g0ntb00h

draws her kebbuck an' her knife ; Syne A TIIUE STOitY. The lasses they are shyer : The auld Guidmen, about the grace,

Frae side to side they bather ; SOME books are lies frae end to end, Till some ane by his bonnet lays, And some great lies were never penn'd : An' gies them't like a tether, Ev'n Ministers they hae been kenn'd, Fu' lang that day. In holy rapture, Great lies and nonsense baith to vend, XXV. And nail't wi' Scripture.

Waesucks ! for him that gets nae lass, But this that I am to tell, Or lasses that hae naething ! gaun Which on a Sma' need has he to say a grace, lately night befell, Is just as true's the DeiFs in h-11, Or melvie his braw claithing !

Or Dublin : Wives be mindfu', ance yoursel city e'er he nearer lads wanted That comes oursel How bonie ye ; 'S a muckle An' dinna, for a kebbuck-heel, pity. Let lasses be affronted The Clachan yill had made me canty, On sic a day ! I na but had was fou, just plenty ; I stacher'd whyles, but yet took tent ay XXVI. To free the ditches ; Now ' Clinkumbell,' wi' rattlan tow, An' hillocks, stanes, an' bushes kent ay to an' croon Frae an' witches. Begins jow ; ghaists Some swagger name, the best they dow, Some wait the afternoon. The rising moon began to glowr

At slaps the billies halt a blink, The distant Cumnock hills out-owre : wi' a' Till lasses strip their shoon : To count her horns, my pow'r, I set Wi' faith an' hope, an' love an' drink, mysel ; three or They're a' in famous tune But whether she had four, For crack that day. I cou'd na tell. # ' A- - ; w^< FIRST EDITIONS.] OF ROBERT BURNS.

I was come round about the hill, We'll ease our shanks an' tak a seat : An' todlin Willie's down on mill, Come, gie's your news ! Settin my staff wi' a' my skill, This while ye hae been mony a gate, sicker At a To keep me ; mony house." Tho' leeward whyles, against my will, I took a bicker. "Ay, ay!" quo' he, an' shook his head: " It's e'en a lang, lang time indeed Sin' I began to nick the thread, I there wi' Something does forgather, An' choke the breath : That in eerie pat me an swither ; Folk maun do something for their bread, An awfii' scythe out-owre ae shouther, An' sae maun Death. Clear-danglin, hang ; A three-tae'd leister on the ither " Sax thousand years are near-han' fled Lay, large an' lang. Sin' I was to the butchin bred,

An' mony a scheme in vain's been laid, Its stature seem'd lang Scotch ells twa, To or scaur stap me ; The that e'er I saw, queerest shape Till ane Hornbook's ta'en up the trade, For fient a wame it had ava ; An' faith, he'll waur me. And then its shanks, " They were as thin, as sharp an' sma', Ye ken Jock Hornbook i' the Clachan ?

. As cheeks o' branks. Deil his mak king's-hood in a spleuchan ! He's grown sae weel acquant wi' Buchan, An' ither "Guid-een," quo' I; "Frien'I hae ye been mawin, chaps, " The weans haud out their When ither folk are busy sawin ? fingers laughin, An' It seem'd to mak a kind o' stan', pouk my hips. But naething spak ; " " See, here's a scythe, an' there's a dart, At length, says I, Friend, whare ye gaun, hae a heart They pierc'd gallant ; Will ye go back?" mony But Doctor Hornbook, wi' his art An' cursed " skill, It right howe name is Death : spak My Has made them baith no worth a f t: " But be na' fley'd." Quoth I, Quid faith, Dn'dhaet they'll kill! Ye're to breath maybe come stap my ;

But tent me, Billie ! " 'Twas but yestreen, nae farther gaen, I red ye weel, tak care o' skaith: I threw a noble throw at ane ; See, there's a !" gully I'm I've Wi' less, sure, hundreds slain ;

But deil-ma-care I " " whittle Gudeman," quo' he, put up your ; It just play'd dirl on the bane, to its mettle I'm no design'd try ; But did nae mair.

But if I did, I wad be kittle : To be mislear'd, " Hornbook was by, wi' ready art, I wad na' mind no that it, spittle An' had sae fortify' d the part, Out-owre beard." my That when I looket to my dart, It was sae blunt, " " 1" a be't Fient haet o't wad hae the heart Weel, weel says I, bargain ; pierc'd an' sae we're 0' a kail-runt. Come, gie's your hand, gree't ; L LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS.

" I drew my scythe in sic a fury, Kirk-yards will soon be till'd eneugh, I near-han' cowpet wi' my hurry, Tak ye nae fear : But yet the bauld Apothecary They'll a' be trench'd wi' mony a sheugh, In twa-three Withstood the shock ; year. I as weel hae a quarry might try'd " 0' hard whin-rock. Whare I kill'd ane, a fair strae-death, By loss o' blood, or want o' breath, " This night I'm free to tak my aith, E'en them he canna get attended, That Hornbook's skill Altho' their face he ne'er had kend it- Has clad a score i' their last claith, Just sh in a kail-blade and send it ; By drap an' pill. As soon's he smells 't,

Baith their disease, an' what will mend it, " An honest Wabster to his trade, At once he tells 't. Whase wife's twa nieves were scarce weel-bred, Gat to mend her head, " tippence-worth An' then a' doctor's saws an' whittles, When it was sair ; 0' a' an' dimensions, shapes, mettles, The wife slade canine to her bed, A' kinds o' boxes, an' bottles, mugs, But ne'er spak mair.

He's sure to hae ; Their Latin as fast he rattles " names A countra Laird had ta'en the batts, As ABC. Or some curmurrin in his guts, His only son for Hornbook sets, " Calces o' An' him well fossils, earths, and trees ; pays True o' the seas The for twa sal-marinum ; lad, guid gimmer-pets, The farina of beans an' pease, Was Laird himsel. He has't in plenty ; " bonie kend her name Aqua-fontis, what you please, A lass, ye ill-brewn drink had hov'd her He can content ye. Some wame, She trusts hersel, to hide the shame,

" In Hornbook's care ; Forbye, some new uncommon weapons Horn sent her aff to her o' lang hame, Urinus-spiritus capons ; To hide it there. Or mite-horn shaviiis, filins, scrapins, Distill' d se per ; " That's just a swatch o' Hornbook's way : Sal-alkali o' midge-tail clippins, Thus goes he on from day to day, An' mony mae." Thus does he poison, kill, an' slay, for't An's weel pay'd ; " Wae's me for Ged's Hole Johnny now," Yet me o' lawfu' prey, " stops my I, if that thae news be true ! Quoth Wi' his d-mn'd dirt ! His braw calf-ward whare gowans grew,

Sae white an' bonie " o' But hark ! I'll tell you a plot, Nae doubt rive it wi' the they'll plew ; o't Tho' dinna ye be speakin ; ruin Johnie!" They'll I'll nail the self-conceited Sot,

As dead's a herrin :

The creature grain'd an eldritch laugh, Niest time we meet, I'll wad a groat, " " And Ye needna the He his fairin ! says, yoke pleugh , gets 19 FIRST EDITIONS.] OF ROBERT BURNS.

'Twas the stacks their But just as lie began to tell, when get on winter-hap, bell thack secure the toil-won The auld kirk-hammer strak the And and rape crap ; Some wee short hour ayont the twal, Potatoe-bings are snugged up frae skaith

rais'd us baith : Of Winter's breath Which coming biting, frosty ; I took the way that pleas'd mysel, The bees, rejoicing o'er their summer-toils And sae did Death. Unnumber'd buds and flow'rs' delicious spoils,

Seal'd up with frugal care in massive waxen piles, Are doom'd by Man, that tyrant o'er the weak,

The death o' devils, smoor'd wi' brimstone reek : The thund'ring guns are heard on ev'ry side,

The wounded coveys, reeling, scatter wide ; The feather'd field-mates, bound by Nature's tie at Sires, mothers, children in one carnage lie : A POEM. (What warm, poetic heart but inly bleeds, execrates ruthless And man's savage, deeds !) Inscribed to J. Nae mair the flow'r in field or meadow B[ALLANTYXE], Esq., Ayr. springs ; Nae mair the with concert grove airy rings ; Except perhaps the Robin's whistling glee,

Proud o' the height o' some bit half-lang tree : THE simple Bard, rough at the rustic plough, The hoary morns precede the sunny days; his tuneful trade from Learning ev'ry bough ; Mild, calm, serene, wide-spreads the noontide blaze, The chanting linnet, or the mellow thrush, While thick the gossamour waves wanton in the rays. Hailing the setting sun, sweet, in the green thorn bush, 'Twas in that season, when a simple Bard, The soaring lark, the perching red-breast shrill, Unknown and poor (simplicity's reward), Or deep-ton'd plovers, grey, wild-whistling o'er the Ae night, within the ancient brugh of Ayr, hill; By whim inspir'd, or haply prest wi' care Shall he, nurst in the Peasant's lowly shed, He left his bed, and took his wayward rout, To hardy Independence bravely bred, And down by Simpson's wheel'd the left about : By early Poverty to hardship steel'd, (Whether impell'd by all-directing Fate,

And train'd to arms in stern Misfortune's field To witness what I after shall narrate ;

Shall he be guilty of their hireling crimes, Or whether, rapt in meditation high, The servile, mercenary Swiss of rhymes ? He wander'd out he knew not where nor why) Or labour hard the panegyric close, The drowsy Dungeon-clock had number'd two,

With all the venal soul of dedicating Prose ? And Wallace-Tow'r had sworn the fact was true :

No ! though his artless strains he rudely sings, The tide-swoln Firth, with sullen-sounding roar, And throws his hand uncouthly o'er the strings, Through the still night dash'd hoarse along the He glows with all the spirit of the Bard, shore : his his Nature's closed e'e Fame, honest Fame, great, dear reward. All else was Imsh'd as ; if o'er tow'r tree Still, some Patron's gen'rous care he trace, The silent moon shone high and ; Skill' d in the secret to bestow with beneath the silver grace ; The chilly frost, beam, When B[allantyne] befriends his humble name, Crept, gently-crusting, o'er the glittering stream And hands the rustic Stranger up to fame

With heart-felt throes his grateful bosom swells : When, lo ! on either hand the list'ning Bard, The godlike bliss, to give, alone excels. The clanging sugh of whistling wings is heard; [POETICAL WORKS.

AULD BRIG. Two dusky forms dart thro' the midnight air,

hare Conceited d wi' ! Swift as the goss drives on the wheeling ; gowk, puff up windy pride This a I've stood the flood an' tide Ane on th' Auld Brig his airy shape uprears, mony year ;

The ither flutters o'er the rising piers : And tho' wi' crazy eild I'm sair forfairn, I'll be a Our warlock Rhymer instantly descry'd brig when ye're a shapeless cairn ! As little The Sprites that owre the Brigs of Ayr preside. yet ye ken about the matter, (That Bards are second-sighted is nae joke, But twa-three winters will inform ye better. of the folk When rains And ken the lingo sp'ritual ; heavy, dark, continued, a'-day can Wi' o'erflow the Fays, Spunkies, Kelpies, a', they explain them, deepening deluges plains ; And ev'n the vera deils they brawly ken them). When from the hills where springs the brawling Coil, ' ' Pictish Or fountains boil Auld Brig appear'd of ancient race, stately Lugar's mossy ;

The vera wrinkles Gothic in his face : Or where the Greenock winds his moorland course,

He seem'd as he wi' Time had warsl'd lang, Or haunted Garpal draws his feeble source, Yet, teughly doure, he bade an unco bang. Arous'd by blustering winds an' spotting thowes, In a torrent down the snaw-broo rowes 'New Brig' was buskit in a braw new coat, mony ; frae While borne on the That he, at Lon'on, ane Adams got ; crashing ice, roaring spate, as an' an' a' to the In's hand five taper staves smooth's a bead, Sweeps dams, mills, brigs, gate ; Wi' virls an' whirlygigums at the head. And from Glenbuck, down to the Ratton-key, The Goth was stalking round with anxious search, Auld Ayr is just one lengthen'd, tumbling sea the flaws in arch Then down nor never rise Spying time-worn ev'ry ; ye'll hurl, (deil ye !)

dash the to ! It chanc'd his new-come neebor took his e'e, And gumlie jaups up the pouring skies A lesson to And e'en a vex'd and angry heart had he ! sadly teaching, your cost,

Wi' thieveless sneer to see his modish mien, That architecture's noble art is lost !

He, down the water, gies him this guid-een

NEW BRIG. AULD BRIG.

Fine architecture, trowth, I needs must say't o't I doubt na, frien', ye'll think ye're nae sheep-shank, The L d be thankit that we've tint the gate o't ! Ance ye were streekit owre frae bank to bank ! Gaunt, ghastly, ghaist-alluring edifices, But gin ye be a brig as auld as me with like Hanging threat'ning jut precipices ; Tho' faith, that date, I doubt, ye'll never see O'er-arching, mouldy, gloom-inspiring coves, There'll be, if that day come, I'll wad a boddle, Supporting roofs, fantastic, stony groves ; Some fewer whigmaleeries in your noddle. Windows and doors in nameless sculptures drest, With or taste unblest order, symmetry, ; NEW BRIG. Forms like some bedlam Statuary's dream,

! but show little The craz'd creations of Auld Vandal ye your mense, misguided whim ;

Just much about it wi' your scanty sense : (Forms might be worshipp'd on the bended knee, Will your poor, narrow foot-path o' a street, And still the Second dread Command be free Where twa wheel-barrows tremble when they meet, Their likeness is not found on earth, in air, or sea) Your ruin'd, formless bulk o' stane and lime, Mansions that would disgrace the building-taste wi' bonie o' modern time f mason or beast Compare brigs Of any reptile, bird, ; There's men o' taste wou'd tak the Ducat-stream, Fit only for a doited Monkish race, Tho' they should cast the vera sark and swim, Or frosty maids forsworn the dear embrace, E'er they would grate their feelings wi' the view Or cuifs of later times, wha held the notion,

0' sic an ugly Gothic hulk as you. That sullen gloom was sterling true devotion : FIRST EDITIONS.] OF ROBERT BURNS. 21

Fancies that our guid Brugh denies protection, If haply Knowledge, on a random tramp, And soon may they expire, uiiblest with resurrection ! Had shor'd them with a glimmer of his lamp, And would to common-sense for once betray'd them, AULD BRIG. Plain, dull Stupidity stept kindly in to aid them.

ye, my dear-remember'd, ancient yealings, Were ye but here to share my wounded feelings ! What farther clishmaclaver might been said, Ye worthy Proveses, an' mony a Bailie, What bloody wars, if Sprites had blood to shed, in the o' did toil No man can tell all before their Wha paths righteousness ay ; ; but, sight, an' train in Ye dainty Deacons, ye douce Conveeners, A fairy appear'd order bright ; To our moderns are but Adown the stream danc'd whom causey-cleaners ; glittering they featly ;

Ye hae blest this to the their various dresses : godly Councils, wha town ; Bright moon glanc'd Ye godly Brethren o' the sacred gown, They footed o'er the wat'ry glass so neat,

hurdies to the smiters The infant ice scarce their feet : Wha meekly ga'e your ; bent beneath

And (what would now be strange) ye godly Writers : While arts of Minstrelsy among them rung, A' ye douce folk I've borne aboon the broo, And soul-ennobling Bards heroic ditties sung.

Were ye but here, what would ye say or do ! How would your spirits groan in deep vexation, had M'Lauchlan, thairm-inspiring sage, To see each alteration Been there to hear this melancholy ; heavenly band engage, And, agonising, curse the time and place When thro' his dear Strathspeys they bore with

the ! When ye begat base, degen'rate race Highland rage ; their Nae langer Rev'rend Men, country's glory, Or when they struck old Scotia's melting airs, In braid Scots hold forth a braid The lover's or cares plain plain story ; raptur'd joys bleeding ;

Nae langer thrifty Citizens, an' douce, How would his Highland lug been nobler fir'd,

Meet owre a or in the Council-house And ev'n his matchless hand finer ! pint, ; with touch inspir'd But staumrel, corky-headed, graceless Gentry, No guess could tell what instrument appear'd, The and ruin of the But all the soul of Music's self herryment country was heard ; Men, three-parts made by taylors and by barbers Harmonious concert rung in every part, Wha waste your weel-hain'd gear on d d new While simple melody pour'd moving on the heart.

Brigs and Harbours !

The Genius of the Stream in front appears, BRIG. NEW venerable Chief advanc'd in A years ; Now haud you there ! for faith ye've said enough, His hoary head with water-lilies crown'd, And muckle mair than ye can mak to through. His manly leg with garter tangle bound. As for your Priesthood, I shall say but little Next came the lovliest pair in all the ring,

Corbies and are a shot kittle : Female hand in hand with Clergy right Sweet Beauty Spring ; But, under favor o' your langer beard, Then, crown'd with flow'ry hay, came Rural Joy, Abuse o' weel been with his Magistrates might spar'd ; And Summer, fervid-beaming eye ; To liken them to your auld-warld squad All-chearing Plenty, with her flowing horn, I must needs are odd. Led Autumn wreath'd with corn say, comparisons yellow nodding ; In Ayr, wag-wits nae mair can have a handle Then Winter's time-bleach'd locks did hoary show, ' To month A a term o' scandal with cloudless brow. Citizen,' ; By Hospitality Nae mair the Council waddles down the street, Next follow'd Courage with his martial stride, In all the of conceit ; where the Feal coverts hide pomp ignorant From wild-woody ; Men wha wise owre an' grew priggin hops raisins. Benevolence, with mild, benignant air, Or lib'ral gather'd views in Bonds and Seisins : A female form, came from the tow'rs of Stair ; 22 LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS.

Learning and Worth in equal measures trode, This day the Kirk kicks up a stoure, their abode Nae mair the knaves shall her From simple Catrine, long-lov'd ; wrang ; Last, white-rob'd Peace, crown'd with a hazel wreath, For Heresy is in her pow'r, To rustic Agriculture did bequeath And gloriously she'll whang her

The broken, iron instruments of Death : Wi' pith this day. At sight of whom our Sprites forgat their kindling

- wrath. IV.

Come, let a proper text be read, An' touch it aff wi' vigour, How graceless Ham leugh at his Dad, Which made a Canaan niger ; (Drbhtation. Or Phineas drove the murdering blade, Wi' wh-re-abhorring rigour ; Or Zipporah, the scauldin jad, For sense, they little owe to frugal Heav'n Was like a bluidy tiger To please the Mob they hide the little giv'n. I' th' inn that day.

I. V.

his mettle on K[rLMARNOCK] Wabsters, fidge an' claw, There, try the Creed, creeshie nations And bind him down wi' An' pour your ; caution, That is An' ye wha leather rax an' draw, stipend a carnal weed He taks but for the fashion Of a' denominations; ; And him owre the flock to Swith to the Laigh Kirk, ane an' a', gie feed, tak stations And each An' there up your ; punish transgression; Then aff to Begbie's in a raw, Especial, rams that cross the breed Gie sufficient An' pour divine libations them threshin; For joy this day. Spare them nae day.

II. VI.

Curst Common-Sense, that imp o' h-11, Now auld K[ilmarnock], cock thy tail, fu' wi' Lauder An' toss horns ; Cam in Maggie ; thy canty Nae mair thou'lt rowte out-owre the But 0[liphant] aft made her yell, dale, Because An' R[ussell] sair misca'd her : thy pasture's scanty ; For o' This day M'[Kinlay] take the flail, lapfu's large gospel-kail Shall fill crib in An' he's the boy will blaud her I thy plenty, An' runts o' the an' He'llclap a shangan on her tail, grace pick wale, An' set the bairns to daud her No gi'en by way o' dainty, Wi! dirt this day. But ilka day.

III. VII.

' ' Mak haste an' turn King David owre, Nae mair by Babel's streams we'll weep, ' ' wi' To think our Zion ; An' lilt holy clangor ; upon our fiddles to 0' double verse come gie us four, And hing up sleep, An' skirl up the 'Bangor:' Like baby-clouts a-dryin ! ;

o<

I- 1 FIRST EDITIONS.] OF ROBERT BURNS.

tunefu' Come, screw the pegs wi' clieep, There Learning, with his Greekish face,

And owre the thairms be ; Grunts out some Latin tryin ditty ;

rare ! see elbucks Oh, to our wheep, And Common-Sense is gaun, she says, And a' like lamb-tails flyin To mak to Jamie Beattie

Fu' fast this day ! Her plaint this day.

VIII. XII.

Lang, Patronage, wi' rod o' aim, But there's Morality himsel, Has shor'd the Kirk's all undoin; Embracing opinions ; sair As lately Fenwick, forfairn, Hear, how he gies the tither yell,

its : Has proven to ruin Between his twa companions !

Our Patron, honest man! Gl[encairn], See, how she peels the skin an' fell,

brewin As ane were ! He saw mischief was ; peelin onions An' like a godly, elect bairn, Now there, they're packed aff to h-11, He's wal'd us out a true ane, And banish'd our dominions, An' sound this day. Henceforth this day.

XIII.

Now R[obertson] harangue nae mair, happy day ! rejoice, rejoice !

for ever bouse ! But steek your gab ; Come about the porter Or try the wicked town o' Ayr, Morality's demure decoys

clever : For there they'll think you Shall here nae mair find quarter : Or, nae reflection on your lear, M'[Kinlay], R[ussell], are the boys

Ye commence a shaver ; That can torture may Heresy ; Or to the Netherton repair, They'll gie her on a rape a hoyse, An' turn a carpet-weaver And cowe her measure shorter Aff-hand this day. By th' head some day.

X. XIV. a M[ultrie] an' you were just match, Come, bring the tither mutchkin in, sic drones We never had twa ; And here's, for a conclusion, Auld Hornie did the Laigh Kirk watch, To ev'ry New-light mother's son,

baudrc-ns : . Just like a wiiikin From this time forth, Confusion ! And ay he catch'd the tither wretch, If mair they deave us wi' their din, To them in his caudrons fry ; Or Patronage intrusion, But now his Honor maun detach, We'll light a spunk, and, ev'ry skin, Wi' a' his brimstone squadrons, We'll rin them aff in fusion, fast this Fast, day. Like oil, some day.

XL

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 : LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS.

Calf. to tht JBziL

To the Kev. Mr. on his text, O Prince ! [JAMES STEVEN], MALACHI, chief of many throned pow'rs ! ch. iv. vers. 2. "And ye stall go forth, and grow up, That led th'embattl'd Seraphim to war like CALVES of the stall." MILTON.

whatever title suit ! RIGHT, Sir ! your text I'll prove it true, THOU, thee Auld or Tho' Heretics may laugh ; Hornie, Satan, Nick, Clootie, For instance, there's yoursel just now, Wha in yon cavern grim an' sootie, God knows, an unco Calf! Clos'd under hatches, Spairges about the brunstane cootie,

And should some Patron be so kind, To scaud poor wretches ! As bless you wi' a kirk, I doubt na, Sir, but then we'll find, Hear me, auld Hangie, for a wee, Ye're still as a Stirk. An' let damned bodies be great poor ;

I'm sure sma' pleasure it can gie, But, if the Lover's raptur'd hour, Ev'n to a deil, Shall ever be your lot, To skelp an' scaud poor dogs like me,

Forbid it, ev'ry heav'nly Power, An' hear us squeel !

You e'er should be a Stot ! Great is thy pow'r, an' great thy fame; Far kend an' noted is Tho', when some kind connubial Dear thy name ; Your but-and-ben adorns, An' tho' yon lowan heugh's thy hame, like has been that wear Thou travels far The you may ;

A noble head of horns. An' faith ! thou's neither lag nor lame, Nor blate nor scaur.

And, in your lug, most reverend J[arnes], To hear you roar and rowte, Whyles, rangin like a roaran lion, o' For a' holes an' corners Few men sense will doubt your claims prey, tryin ; the To rank amang the Nowte. Whyles, on strong-wing'd Tempest flyin,

Tirlan the kirks ;

And when ye're number'd wi' the dead, Whyles, in the human bosom pryin, Below a grassy hillock, Unseen thou lurks. Wi' justice they may mark your head " Here lies a famous Bullock !" I've heard my rev'rend Graunie say, In like to lanely glens ye stray ; Or whare auld, ruin'd castles, gray, Nod to the moon, Ye fright the nightly wand'rer's way, Wi' eldritch croon.

When twilight did my Graunie summon,

To say her pray'rs, douse, honest woman ! FIRST EDITIONS.] OF ROBERT BURNS. 25

she's heard An' aft Aft 'yoiit the dyke you bummaii, your moss-traversin Spunkies eerie Wi' drone; Decoy the wight that late an' drunk is : Or, rustlin, thro' the boortrees coman, The bleezan, curst, mischievous moiikies

Wi' heavy groan. Delude his eyes, Till in some miry slough he sunk is, Ae dreary, windy, winter night, Ne'er mair to rise. The stars shot down wi' sklentan light,

Wi' you, mysel, I gat a fright, When Masons' mystic word an' grip the Ayont lough ; In storms an' tempests raise you up, Ye, like a rash-buss, stood in sight, Some cock or cat your rage maun stop, Wi' wavin sugh. Or, strange to tell ! The youngest Brither ye wad whip The cudgel in my nieve did shake, Aff straught to H-ll. Each bristl'd hair stood like a stake,

' When wi' an eldritch, stoor quaick, quaick,' Lang syne in Eden's bonie yard, Amang the springs, When youthfu' lovers first were pair'd, Awa ye squatter'd like a drake, An' all the Soul of Love they shar'd, On whistlin wings. The hour raptur'd ; on the Let warlocks grim, an' wither'd hags, Sweet, fragrant flow'ry swaird, In bow'r. Tell how wi' you on ragweed nags, shady They skim the muirs an' dizzy crags,

Wi' wicked speed; Then you, ye auld, snick-drawin dog ! to Paradise And in kirk-yards renew their leagues, Ye cam incog, Owre howket dead. An' play'd on man a cursed brogue, be fa' (Black your !) Thence, countra wives, wi' toil an' pain, An' gied the infant warld a shog, an' the kirn in vain May plunge plunge ; 'Maist ruin'd a'.

For Oh ! the yellow treasure's taen witchin skill By ; D'ye mind that day, when in a bizz, ' ' An' dawtet, twal-pint Hawkie's gane Wi' reeket duds, an' reestet gizz, As yell's the Bill. Ye did present your smoutie phiz, 'Mang better folk, Thence, mystic knots mak great abuse An' sklented on the Man of Uzz, On keen an' croose young-guidmeii, fond, ; Your spitefu' joke ? When the best wark-lume i' the house, By cantraip wit, An' how him i' thrall, Is instant made no worth a louse, ye gat your An' brak him out o' house an' Just at the bit. hal', While scabs an' botches did him gall, Wi' bitter claw When thowes dissolve the snawy hoord, ; An' lows'd his wicked An' float the jinglan icy boord, ill-tongu'd Scawl, Was warst ava ? Then, Water-kelpies haunt the foord, By your direction, An' nighted travelers are allur'd But a' your doings to rehearse, To their destruction. Your wily snares an' fechtin fierce, IP

26 LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS.

Sin' that day Michael did you pierce, My dying words attentive hear, Down to this time, An' bear them to my Master dear. Wad ding a' Lallan tongue, or Erse, In or " prose rhyme. Tell him, if e'er again he keep As muckle gear as buy a sheep An' auld I ken now, Cloots, ye're thinkan, 0, bid him never tye them mair, A certain Bardie's rantan, drinkan, Wi' wicked strings o' hemp or hair ! Some luckless hour will send him linkan, But ca' them out to park or hill, black To your pit ; An' let them wander at their will :

But, faith ! he'll turn a corner jinkan, So, may his flock increase an' grow An' cheat you yet. To scores o' lambs, an' packs o' woo' !

But auld Nickie-ben ! " fare-you-weel, Tell him, he was a Master kin', wad ye tak a thought an' men' ! An' to an' ay was guid me mine ; Ye aiblins I dinna ken might An' now my dying charge I gie him, Still hae a stake : My helpless lambs, I trust them wi' him. I'm wae to think upo' yon den,

Ev'n for your sake ! " 0, bid him save their harmless lives,

Frae dogs, an' tods, an' butchers' knives ! their But gie them guid cow-milk fill, Till be fit to fend themsel they ; An' tent them duely, e'en an' morn, THE DEATH AND DYING WORDS OF Wi' taets o' hay an' ripps o' corn.

00r Jttailie, " An' may they never learn the gaets, 1 THE AUTHOlt'S ONLY PET YOWE : AN UNCO MOURNFU TALE. 0' ither vile, wanrestfu' Pets

To slink thro' slaps, an' reave an' steal,

At stacks o' pease, or stocks o' kail ! As Mailie, an' her lambs thegither, So may they, like their great forbears, Was ae day nibblin on the tether, For mony a year come thro' the sheers : Upon her cloot she coost a hitch, So wives will gie them bits o' bread,

An' owre she warsl'd in the ditch : An' bairns greet for them when they're dead.

There, groanin, dyin, she did ly, When ' he cam " Hughoc' doytan by. My poor toop-lamb, my son an' heir, 0, bid him breed him up wi' care ! Wi' glowrin een, an' lifted han's, An' if he live to be a beast,

Poor like a statue stan's havins in his breast ! Hughoc ; To pit some He saw her days were near-hand ended, An' warn him, what I winna name,

wae's heart ! he it ! wi' at hame But, my could na mend To stay content yowes ; He gaped wide, but naething spak, An' no to rin an' wear his cloots, At length poor Mailie silence brak. Like ither menseless, graceless brutes.

" " thou, whase lamentable face An' niest my yowie, silly thing,

Appears to mourn my woefu' case ! Gude keep thee frae a tether string ! 1 FIRST EDITIONS.] OF ROBERT BURNS.

0, may thou ne'er forgather up, I wat she was a sheep o' sense,

Wi' moorlan An' could behave hersel wi' mense : ony blastet, toop ; But ay keep mind to moop an' mell, I'll say't, she never brak a fence, Wi' sheep o' credit like thysel ! Thro' thievish greed. Our Bardie, lanely, keeps the spence " And now, my bairns, wi' my last breath, Sin' Mailie's dead. I lea'e my blessin wi' you baith : An' when ye think upo' your mither, Or, if he wanders up the howe, Mind to be kind to ane anither. Her livin image in her yowe, Comes bleatin till him, owre the knowe, " dinna For bits o' bread Now, honest Hughoc, fail, ; tell master a' tale An' down the rowe To my my ; briny pearls An' bid him burn this cursed tether, For Mailie dead. An' for thy pains thou'se get my blather."

She was nae get o' moorlan tips, Mailie turn'd her Wi' tauted an' This said, poor head, ket, hairy hips ;

! her An' clos'd her een amang the dead For forbears 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 thing a raep ! It maks guid fellows girn an' gape,

Wi' chokin dread ; in lament in LAMENT rhyme, prose, An' Robin's bonnet wave wi' crape tears tricklin nose Wi' saut down your ; For Mailie dead. Our Bardie's fate is at a close,

Past a' ! remead 0, a' ye Bards on bonie Boon ! The sad o' his woe's last, cap-stane An' wha on Aire your chanters tune !

Mailie's dead ! Poor Come, join the melancholious croon

0' Robin's reed ! It's no the loss o' warl's gear, His heart will never get aboon sae bitter draw the That could tear, His Mailie's dead ! Or mak our Bardie, dowie, wear The mournin weed

He's lost a friend an' neebor dear, In Mailie dead.

a' she trotted Thro' the town by him ; half-mile she could him A lang descry ; Wi' kindly bleat, when she did spy him,

She ran wi' speed : A friend mair faithfu ne'er cam nigh him, Than Mailie dead. -^Wfr

LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS.

An' damn'd fortune to the J. S[mith.] my groat ; But, in requit, Has blest me wi' a random-shot

Friendship, mysterious cement of the soul ! 0' countra wit. Sweet'ner of Life, and solder of Society ! I owe thee much This while notion's taen a sklent, BLAIR. my To fate in black try my guid, prent ; But still the mair I'm that way bent, " DEAR S[MITH], the slee'st, pawkie thief, Something cries Hoolie !

I red I That e'er attempted stealth or rief, you, honest man, tak tent Ye surely hae some warlock-breef Ye'll shaw your folly.

Owre human hearts ; " There's ither much betters, For ne'er a bosom yet was prief poets, your Far seen in men o' Against your arts. Greek, deep letters, Hae thought they had ensur'd their debtors, A' future For me, I swear by sun an' moon, . ages ; Now moths deform in shapeless tatters, An' ev'ry star that blinks aboon, Their unknown Ye've cost me twenty pair o' shoon pages." Just to see gaun you ; Then farewell hopes of laurel-boughs, An' ev'ry ither pair that's done, To garland my poetic brows ! Mair taen I'm wi' you. Henceforth, I'll rove Avhere busy ploughs Are whistlin thrang, That auld, capricious carlin, Nature, An' teach the lanely heights an' howes To mak amends for scrimpet stature, My rustic sang. She's turn'd you aff, a human-creature On her first plan, I'll wander on, wi' tentless heed And in her freaks, on ev'ry feature, How never-halting moments speed, She's wrote the Man. Till fate shall the brittle thread snap ; Then, all unknown, Just now I've taen the fit o' rhyme, I'll lay me with th' inglorious dead, barmie noddle's workin prime, My Forgot and gone ! My fancy yerket up sublime

Wi' summon : hasty But why, o' death, begin a tale ? Hae a leisure-moment's time ye Just now we're livin sound an' hale ;

1 To hear what's comin ? Then top and maintop croud the sail,

Heave Care owre-side !

Some a neebor's name to lash ; rhyme, And large, before Enjoyment's gale, for needfu' cash Some rhyme, (vain thought !) ; Let's tak the tide. Some rhyme to court the countra clash, raise' I An a din ; This life, sae far's understand,

I never fash a' For me, an aim ; Is enchanted fairy-land, I rhyme for fun. Where Pleasure is the magic-wand, That, wielded light, hand in The star that rules my luckless lot, Maks hours like minutes, hand, Has fated me the russet coat, Dance by fu' light.

j(3$&W> OF ROBERT BURNS. FIRST EDITIONS.]

then let us wield To or eternal The magic-wand ; right left, swervin, on For, ance that five-an'-forty's speel'd, They zig-zag ; Till curst with obscure an' See, crazy, weary, joyless Eild, age, starvin, Wi' wrinkl'd face, They aften groan. Comes hostan, hirplan owre the field,

Alas ! what bitter toil an' Wi' creepin pace. straining But truce with peevish, poor complaining ! Is Fortune's fickle Luna waning ? When ance life's day draws near the gloamin, E'en let her gang ! Then fareweel vacant, careless roamin ; Beneath what light she has remaining, An' fareweel chearfu' tankards foamin, Let's sing our sang. An' social noise ;

An' fareweel dear, deluding woman, My pen I here fling to the door, The joy of joys! And kneel, Ye Pow'rs ! and warm implore, " Tho' I should wander Terra o'er,

Life ! how in pleasant thy morning, In all her climes,

the hills ! Young Fancy's rays adorning Grant me but this, I ask no more, Caution's lesson Cold-pausing scorning, Ay rowth o' rhymes. We frisk away, " Like school-boys, at th' expected warning, Gie dreepin roasts to countra lairds, To and Till icicles frae their beards joy play. hing ; Gie fine braw claes to fine Life-Guards, And Maids of Honor We wander there, we wander here, ; an' to We eye the rose upon the brier, And yill whisky gie cairds, Unmindful that the thorn is near, Until they sconner. the leaves Among ; " A merits it ; And tho' the puny wound appear, title, Dempster

A to Willie Pitt ; Short while it grieves. garter gie Gie wealth to some be-ledger'd Cit, In cent cent per ; Some, lucky, find a flow'ry spot, But me real, sterling wit, never toil'd nor swat give For which they ; And I'm content. They drink the sweet and eat the fat, or But care pain ; " While ye are pleas'd to keep me hale, And haply, eye the ban-en hut, I'll sit down owre my scanty meal, With high disdain. Be't water-brose or muslin-kail,

Wi' chearfu' face,

With aim, some Fortune chase ; steady As lang's the Muses dinna fail Keen does sinew brace hope ev'ry ; To say the grace." Thro' fair, thro' foul, they urge the race,

And seize the prey : An anxious e'e I never throws Then in some cozie or nose cannie, place, Behint my lug, by my ; They close the day. I jouk beneath Misfortune's blows

As weel's I may : and And ithevs, like your humble servan', Sworn foe to sorrow, care, prose,

! nae rules nor roads observin I Poor wights ; rhyme away. if

LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS.

ye douce folk that live by rule, My Bardship here, at your Levee,

Grave, tideless-blooded, calm and cool, On sic a day as this is,

Compar'd wi' you fool ! fool ! fool ! Is sure an uncouth sight to see, How much unlike ! Amang thae Birth-day dresses Your hearts are just a standing pool, Sae fine this day. Your lives, a dyke ! II. Nae hair-brain' sentimental traces d, I see ye're complimented thrang, In your unletter'd, nameless faces ! a lord an' By mony lady ; In arioso trills and " graces God save the King" 's a cukoo sang

Ye never ; stray That's unco easy said ay : But solemn basses, gravissimo, The poets, too, a venal gang, Ye hum away. Wi' rhymes weel-turn'd an' ready, Wad gar you trow ye ne'er do wrang, Ye are sae nae doubt wise grave, ye're ; But ay unerring steady, Nae tho' do ferly ye despise On sic a day. The hairum-scairum, ram-stam boys,

The ramblin squad : III. I see ye upward cast your eyes For me ! before a monarch's face, Ye ken the road !

Ev'n there I winna natter ;

For neither pension, post, nor place, Whilst I but I shall haud me there Am I your humble debtor. Wi' you I'll scarce gang ony where So, nae reflection on Your Grace, Then, Jamie, I shall nae mair, say to Your kingship bespatter ; But quat my sang, There's mony waur been o' the race, Content wi' you to mak a pair, And aiblins ane been better Whare'er I gang. Than you this day.

IV.

'Tis very true, my sovereign King, skill weel be doubted My may ; But facts are chiels that winna ding,

An' downa be disputed : the Statute Thoughts, words, and deeds, blames with reason ; Your royal nest, beneath your wing, But surely Dreams were ne'er indicted Treason. Is e'en right reft an' clouted, And now the third part o' the string,

On reading, in the public papers, the Laureate's Ode, with the other parade of An' less, will gang about it June the Author -was no sooner than he 4th, 1786, dropt asleep, imagined Than did ae himself transported to the Birth-day Levee: and, in his dreaming fancy, made day. the following Address.

I. V.

frae that I GUID-MORNIN to your Majesty ! Far be't me aspire May heaven augment your blisses, To blame your legislation, or On ev'ry new Birth-day ye see, Or say, ye wisdom want, fire, A humble Bardie wisses. To rule this mighty nation : & m - FIRST EDITIONS.] OF ROBERT BURNS. 31

faith ! I muckle But doubt, my Sire, Thae bonie bairntime, Heav'n has lent, Ye've trusted 'Ministration Still higher may they heeze ye in a barn or To chaps, wha, byre, In bliss, till fate some day is sent, Wad better fill'd their station For ever to release ye Than courts yon day. Frae care that day.

VI. X.

auld Britain And now ye've gien peace, For you, young Potentate o' W[alesJ, Her broken shins to I tell plaister ; your Highness fairly, her Your sair taxation does fleece, Down Pleasure's stream, wi' swellin sails,

Till she has scarce a tester : I'm tauld drivin ye're rarely ; thank life's a For me, God, my lease, But some day ye may gnaw your nails, wearin - Nae bargain faster, An' curse your folly sairly,

faith I I wi' the Or fear, that, geese, That e'er ye brak Diana's pales, I shortly boost to pasture Or rattl'd dice wi' Charlie I' the craft some day. By night or day.

VII. XI.

I'm no mistrustin Willie Pitt, Yet aft a ragged cowt's been known, taxes he a noble aiver When enlarges To mak ;

5 (An Will's a true guid fallow's get, So, ye may doucely fill a throne,

A name not envy spairges), For a' their clish-ma-claver : That he intends to pay your debt, There, him at Agincourc wha shone, An' lessen a' or braver your charges ; Few better were ;

But, G-d-sake ! let nae saving-fit And yet, wi' funny, queer Sir John, Abridge your bonie barges He was an unco shaver An' boats this day. For mony a day.

VIII. XII.

Adieu, my Liege ! may Freedom geek For you, right rev'rend 0[snaburg], sets the lawn-sleeve Beneath your high protection ; Nane sweeter, An' may ye rax Corruption's neck, Altho' a ribban at your lug

And gie her for dissection ! Wad been a dress .compleater: But since I'm here, I'll no negleck, As ye disown yon paughty dog,

In loyal, true affection, That bears the Keys of Peter,

To pay your Queen, wi' due respeck, Then swith I an' get a wife to hug, stain the Mitre My fealty an' subjection Or trowth, ye'll This great Birth-day. Some luckless day !

IX. XIII.

I Hail, Majesty most excellent ! Young, royal Tarry-breeks, learn, athwart While nobles strive to please ye, Ye've lately come her; and Will ye accept a compliment, A glorious galley, stem stern, for Venus' barter A Bardie Weel rigg'd ; simple gies ye? m LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS.

first she'll discern But hang out that And when the Day had clos'd his e'e, Your hymeneal charter, Far i' the west, Then heave aboard your grapple airn, Ben i' the spence, right pensivelie, An', large upon her quarter, I gaed to rest. Come full that day. There, lanely, by the ingle-cheek, XIV. I sat and ey'd the spewin reek,

That fill'd, wi' hoast-provokin smeek, Ye bonie blossoms a', lastly, The auld, clay biggin ; Ye royal lasses dainty, And heard the restless rattons squeak Heav'n mak you guid as weel as braw, About the riggin. An' gie you lads a' plenty !

But sneer na British-boys awa ; All in this mottie, misty clime, For kings are unco scant ay, I backward mus'd on wasted time, An' German-gentles are but sma', How I had spent my youthfu' prime, They're better just than want ay An' done nae-thing, On ony day. But stringin blethers up in rhyme For fools to XV. sing.

God bless you a' ! Consider now, Had I to guid advice but harket, Ye're unco muckle dautet ; I might, by this, hae led a market, But ere the course o' life be through, Or strutted in a bank and clarket

It be bitter sautet : cash-account may My ; An' I hae seen their coggie fou, While here, half-mad, half-fed, half-sarket,

That yet hae tarrow't at it, Is a' th' amount. But or the day was done, I trow, I mutt'rin "Blockhead! Coof!" The laggen they hae clautet started, And heav'd on wauket Fu' clean that day. high my loof, To swear by a' yon starry roof, Or some rash aith,

That I, henceforth, would be rhyme-proof Till my last breath

When click ! the the snick did string draw ;

! the door to the wa' And jee gaed ; DUAN FIRST. And by my ingle-lowe I saw, Now bleezan bright, THE sun had clos'd the winter-day, A tight, outlandish hizzie, braw, The curlers their rcarin quat play, Come full in sight. And hunger'd Maukin taen her way, To Ye need na I held whisht kail-yards green, doubt, my ; While faithless snaws ilk infant half-form' crusht step betray The aith, d, was ; Whare she has been. I glowr'd as eerie's I'd been dusht, In some wild glen ; The thresher's weary flingin-tree, When sweet, like modest Worth, she blusht, had tir'd me And ben. The lee-larig day ; steppet M

FIRST EDITIONS.] OF ROBERT BURNS.

Green, slender, leaf-clad holly-boughs Still, as in Scottish story read, her brows Were twisted, gracefu', round ; She boasts a race I took her for some Scottish Muse, To ev'ry nobler virtue bred, token By that same ; And polish'd grace. And come to stop those reckless vows, Would soon been broken. [By stately tow'r, or palace fair, Or ruins pendent in the air, " Bold stems of heroes, here and there, A hair-brain' d, sentimental trace" I could discern in her face ; Was strongly marked ; Some seem'd to muse, some seem'd to dare, A wildly-witty, rustic grace full her With feature stern. Shone upon ; Her eye, ev'n turn'd on empty space, heart did Beam'd keen with honor. My glowing transport feel, To see a race heroic wheel, And brandish round the deep-dy'd steel Down floAv'd her a tartan sheen, robe, In blows sturdy ; seen Till half a leg was scrimply ; While back-recoiling seem'd to reel And such a ! bonie Jean] leg [my Their Suthron foes. it Could only peer ; Sae straught, sae taper, tight and clean, His Country's Saviour, mark him well ! Nane else cam near it. Bold Richardton's heroic swell ;

The Chief on Sark who glorious fell, Her mantle of In large, greenish hue, high command ; wonder drew My gazing chiefly ; And He whom ruthless fates expell Deep lights and shades, bold-mingling, threw His native land. lustre A grand ; And seem'd, to my astonish'd view, There, where a sceptr'd Pictish shade A well-known land. Stalk'd round his ashes lowly laid, I mark'd a martial race, pourtray'd

in lost In colours strong : Here, rivers the sea were ; soldier-featur'd, There, mountains to the skies were tost : Bold, undismay'd, strode Here, tumbling billows mark'd the coast, They along.

With surging foam ; Thro' many a wild, romantic grove, There, distant shone, Art's lofty boast, Near many a hermit-fancy'd cove The lordly dome. or (Fit haunts for Friendship for Love, In musing mood), down his far-fetch' d floods Here, Doon pour'd ; An aged Judge, I saw him rove, There, well-fed Irwine stately thuds : Dispensing good. Auld hermit Aire staw thro' his woods, On to the shore ; With deep-struck, reverential awe, And a lesser torrent scuds, many The learned Sire and Son I saw : With seeming roar. To Nature's God and Nature's law their lore They gave ; Low, in a sandy valley spread, This, all its source and end to draw, ancient rear'd her head to adore. An Borough ; That, N

831= LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS.

Brydon's brave Ward I well could spy, [" And when the Bard, or hoary Sage,

Beneath old Scotia's smiling eye ; Charm or instruct the future age, Who call'd on Fame, low standing by, They bind the wild poetic rage To hand him on, In energy, Where many a patriot-name on high Or point the inconclusive page And hero shone.] Full on the eye.J

" the brave and Hence, Fullarton, young ;

Hence, Dempster's truth-prevailing tongue ; DUAN SECOND. Hence, sweet harmonious Beattie sung ' Minstrel' His lays ; With astonish'd musing-deep, stare, Or tore, with noble ardour stung, I view'd the Fair heavenly-seeming ; The Sceptic's bays. A whisp'ring throb did witness bear Of kindred sweet, " To lower orders are assign'd When with an elder sister's air The humbler ranks of human-kind, She did me greet. The rustic Bard, the lab'ring hind, The artisan " ; All hail ! my own inspired Bard ! All chuse, as various they're inclin'd, In me native Muse thy regard ; The various man. Nor longer mourn thy fate is hard, Thus low poorly ; " When yellow waves the heavy grain, I come to give thee such reward, The storm rein threat'ning some strongly ; As We bestow ! Some teach to meliorate the plain, With " tillage-skill ; Know, the great Genius of this land And some instruct the shepherd-train, Has many a light aerial band, Blythe o'er the lull. Who, all beneath his high command, Harmoniously, " r Some hint the lover's harmless w ile As arts or arms they understand, ; the maiden's artless smile Some grace ; Their labours ply. Some soothe the lab'rer's weary toil For humble " Scotia's race them share gains, They among ; And make his cottage-scenes beguile Some fire the soldier on to dare ; His cares and pains. Some rouse the patriot up to bare

Corruption's heart : " bounded to a Some teach the Bard, a darling care, Some, district-space, The tuneful art. Explore at large man's infant race, To mark the embryotic trace " Of rustic Bard 'Mong swelling floods of reeking gore, ; And careful note each op'ning grace, They ardent, kindling spirits pour ; A and Or, mid the venal Senate's roar, guide guard.

They, sightless, stand, " To mend the honest patriot-lore, Of these am I Coila my name : And grace the hand. And this district as mine I claim, FIRST EDITIONS.] OP" ROBERT BURNS.

" Where once the chiefs of I Campbells, fame, taught thy manners-painting strains,

Held : ruling pow'r The loves, the ways of simple swains, I mark'd thy embryo-tuneful flame, Till now, o'er all my wide domains, natal hour. fame extends Thy Thy ; And some, the pride of Coila's " plains, With future I oft would hope, gaze, Become thy friends. Fond, on thy little early ways " Thy rudely-caroll'd, chiming phrase, Thou canst not learn, nor I can show, In uncouth To with Thomson's rhymes paint landscape-glow ; the artless Fir'd at simple lays Or wake the bosom-melting throe, Of other times. With art Shenstone's ; Or pour, with Gray, the flow " moving I saw thee seek the sounding shore, Warm on the heart. the roar Delighted with dashing ; the his store " Or when North fleecy Yet, all beneath th' unrivall'd rose, Drove thro' the The blows sky, lowly daisy sweetly ; I saw grim Nature's visage hoar Tho' large the forest's monarch throws Struck thy young eye. His army shade, Yet green the juicy hawthorn grows, " Or when the deep-green-mantl'd Earth Adown the glade. Warm-cherish'd ev'ry floweret's birth, And and music forth " Then never joy potiring murmur nor repine ;

In ; Strive in humble to shine ev'ry grove thy sphere ; I saw thee eye the gen'ral mirth And trust me, not Potosi's mine, With boundless love. Nor king's regard, Can give a bliss o'ermatching thine, " When ripen'"d fields, and azure skies, A rustic Bard. Call'd forth the reapers' rustling noise, " I saw thee leave their ev'ning joys, To give my counsels all in one, And tuneful flame still careful fan lonely stalk, Thy ; To vent thy bosom's swelling rise, Preserve the dignity of Man, In walk. pensive With soul erect ; And trust the Universal Plan "When Love, youthful warm-blushing, strong, Will all protect. Keen-shivering shot thy nerves along, " " Those accents grateful to thy tongue And wear thou this she solemn said, Th' adored Name And bound the Holly round my head : I taught thee how to pour in song, The polish'd leaves, and berries red, To soothe flame. Did thy rustling play ; And, like a passing thought, she fled, " I saw thy pulse's maddening play In light away. Wild-send thee Pleasure's devious way, Misled by Fancy's meteor-ray, Passion driven By ; But yet the light, that led astray, Was light from Heaven. LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS

tht IV. Think, when your castigated pulse OR THE RIGIDLY RIGHTEOUS. Gies now and then a wallop, What ragings must his veins convulse,

That still eternal gallop ! Wi' wind and tide fair i' your tail, My Son, these maxims make a rule, Right on ye scud your sea-way : And lump them ay thegither ; But in the teeth o' baith to The Rigid Righteous is a fool, sail, The Rigid Wise anither : It maks an unco lee-way. The cleanest corn that e'er was dight some o' caff in May hae pyles ; V. So ne'er a fellow- creature slight For random fits o' daffin. See Social Life and Glee sit down, SOLOMON. Eccles. ch. vii. verse 16. All joyous and unthinking, Till, quite transmugrify'd, they're grown Debauchery and Drinking : would they stay to calculate I. Th' eternal consequences ; YE wha are sae guid yoursel, Or your more dreaded h-11 to state, Sae pious and sae holy, Damnation of expenses! Ye've nought to do but mark and tell VI. Your neebours' fauts and folly ! life is like a Whase weel-gaun mill, Ye high, exalted, virtuous dames,

wi' store o' water ; Supply'd Ty'd up in godly laces, The heapet happer's ebbing still, Before ye gie poor Frailty names, And still the clatter. a o' cases clap plays Suppose change ; A dear-lov'd lad, convenience snug, II. A treacherous inclination Hear venerable me, ye Core, But, let me whisper i' your lug, As counsel for poor mortals, Ye're aiblins nae temptation. That frequent pass douce Wisdom's door VII. For glaikit Folly's portals : for their careless I, thoughtless, sakes, Then gently scan your brother man, Would here defences Still sister woman propone gentler ; donsie their black Their tricks, mistakes, Tho' they may gang a kennin wrang, Their and mischances. failings To step aside is human : One point must still be greatly dark, III. do it The moving Why they ; see state wi' their's Ye your compared, And just as lamely can ye mark, shudder at the niifer And ; How far perhaps they rue it. But cast a moment's fair regard, VIII. What maks the mighty differ ? Discount what scant occasion gave, Who made the heart, 'tis He alone in us That purity ye pride ; Decidedly can try ; And (what's aft mair than a' the lave) He knows each chord its various tone,

Your better art o' hidin. Each spring its various bias : FIRST EDITIONS.] OF ROBERT BURNS.

Then at the balance let's be mute, Or up the rink like Jehu roar, it In time o' We never can adjust ; need ; What's done we partly may compute, But now he lags on Death's 'hog-score' But know not what's resisted. Tarn Samson's dead!

Now safe the stately sawmont sail, And trouts bedropp'd wi' crimson hail,

And eels weel-kend for souple tail, And geds for greed, Since dark in Death's fish-creel we wail

Tarn Samson dead !

a' Rejoice, ye birring paitricks ; An honest man's the noblest work of God. Ye cootie moorcocks, craw; POPE. crousely Ye maukins, cock your fud fu' braw, Withoutten dread; Your mortal fae is now awa HAS auld K[ilmarnock] seen the deil ? Tarn Samson's dead! Or great M'[Kinlay] thrawn his heel ? Or R[obertson] again grown weel, That woefu' morn be ever mourn' To preach an' read? d, " " Saw him in shootin adorn'd, Na, waur than a' ! cries ilka chiel, graith " " While round Tarn Samson's dead ! pointers impatient burn'd, Frae couples free'd;

! and ne'er return'd ! Kplmarnock] lang may grunt an' graen, But Och he gaed

Tarn Samson's dead ! An' sigh, an' sab, an' greet her lane, An' cleed her bairns, man, wife, an' wean,

In vain his batters ; In mournin weed ; auld-age body In vain the his ancles fetters To Death she's dearly pay'd the kane gout ; In vain the burns cam down like Tarn Samson's dead ! waters,

An acre braid !

The Brethren o' the mystic level Now ev'ry auld wife, greetin, clatters May hing their head in woefu' bevel, "Tarn Samson's dead!" While by their nose the tears Avill revel, Like bead Owre a he ony ; mony weary hag limpit, An' the tither shot he Death's gien the Lodge an unco devel ay thumpit, Tarn Samson's dead! Till coward Death behint him jumpit, Wi' feide deadly ; When Winter muffles up his cloak, Now he proclaims wi' tout o' trumpet, " " And binds the mire like a rock ; Tarn Samson's dead !

When to the loughs the curlers flock, When at his heart he felt the Wi' gleesome speid, dagger, ' ' He reel'd his wonted Wha will they station at the cock 1 bottle-swagger, But he drew the mortal Tarn Samson's dead ! yet trigger,

Wi' weel-ainfd heed ; ? " " He was the king o' a the core, L d, five ! he cry'd, an' owre did stagger To guard, or draw, or wick a bore, Tam Samson's dead! LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS.

Ilk brither hoary hunter mourn'd a ; Ilk sportsman-youth bemoan'd a father; Yon auld gray stane, amang the hether, Marks out his head; Whare Burns has wrote, in rhymin blether, "Tarn Samson's dead!" Yes ! let the Eich deride, the Proud disdain, The of train simple pleasures the lowly ; To me more dear, congenial to my heart, low he lies, in rest ; [There lasting One native charm, than all the gloss of art. Perhaps upon his mould'ring breast GOLDSMITH. Some spitefu' muirfowl bigs her nest,

To hatch an' breed :

Alas I nae mair he'll them molest !

Tarn Samson's dead !] I.

UPON that night, when fairies light When August winds the hether wave, On Cassilis Downans dance, And sportsmen wander by yon grave, Or owre the lays, in splendid blaze, Three volleys let his mem'ry crave, On sprightly coursers prance ; 0' pouther an' lead, Or for Colean the route is taen, Till Echo answers frae her cave, Beneath the moon's beams " " pale ; Tarn Samson's dead ! There, up the Cove, to stray an' rove, the rocks an' streams Heav'n rest his saul, whare'er he be ! Amang

To that : Is th' wish o' mony mae than me : sport night He had twa fauts, or maybe three, Yet what remead? II.

Ae honest man want we : social, Amang the bonie winding banks, Tarn Samson's dead ! clear Whare Doon rins, wimplin, ; Whare Bruce ance rul'd the martial ranks,

An' shook his Carrick spear ; THE EPITAPH. Some merry, friendly, countra folks ' Tarn Samson's' weel-worn clay here lies, Together did convene, Ye canting zealots spare him ! To burn their nits, an' pou their stocks, If Honest Worth in Heaven rise, An' haud their Halloween

Yell mend or ye win near him. Fu' blythe that night.

III. PEE CONTEA. The lasses feat, an' cleanly neat, Go, Fame, an' canter like a filly fine Mair braw than when they're ; Thro' a' the streets an' neuks o' Killie ; Their faces blythe fu' sweetly kythe, Tell ev'ry social, honest billie Hearts leal, an' warm, an' kin* : cease his To grievin ; The lads sae trig, wi' wooer-babs For yet, unskaith'd Death's gullie, by gleg their Weel-knotted on garten ; Tarn Samson's livin ! Some unco blate, an' some wi' gabs Gar lasses' hearts gang startin Whyles fast at night.

FIRST EDITIONS.] OF ROBERT BURNS.

IV. VIII.

first an' thro' the Jean in wi' tentie e'e Then, foremost, kail, slips twa, ; Their 'stocks' a' be she tell maun sought ance; Wha 'twas, wadna ; They steek their een, an' grape an' wale But this is Jock, an' this is me, anes. For muckle anes, an' straught She says in to hersel : Poor hav'rel Will fell aff the drift, He bleez'd owre her, an' she owre him, An' wander'd thro' the ' never mair bow-kail,' As they wad part ;

An' pou't, for want o' better shift, Till fuff ! he started up the lum, A runt, was like a sow-tail An' Jean had e'en a sair heart that Sae bow't night. To see't that night.

V. IX.

Then, straught or crooked, yird or nane, Poor Willie, wi' his bow-kail runt, roar an' a' throw'ther brunt wi' Mallie They cry ; Was primsie ; The vera wee-things, toddlan, rin, An' Mary, nae doubt, took the drunt, Wi' stocks out owre their shouther : To be compar'd to Willie :

An' gif the custock's sweet or sour, Mall's nit lap out, wi' pridefu' fling, Wi' taste ain it it joctelegs they them ; An' her fit, brunt ;

Syne coziely, aboon the door, While Willie lap, an' swoor by 'jing,' Wi' cannie care they've plac'd them 'Twas just the way he wanted To lye that night. To be that night.

VI. X.

' ' The lasses staw frae 'mang them a', Nell had the fause-house in her min', To their stalks o' corn hersel an' in pou ; She pits Rab ; But Rab slips out, an' jinks about, In loving bleeze they sweetly join,

Behint the muckle thorn : Till white in ase they're sabbin : hard an' fast dancin at the He grippet Nelly ; Nell's heart was view ;

skirl'd a' the lasses to leuk for't : Loud ; She whisper'd Rab But her tap-pickle maist was lost, Rab, stownlins, prie'd her bonie mou,

' ' When kiutlan in the fause-house Fu' cozie in the neuk for't,

Wi' him that night. Unseen that night.

VII. XI.

The auld guidwife's weel-hoordet nits But Merran sat behint their backs, on Andrew Bell Are round an' round divided, Her thoughts ; An' mony lads an' lasses' fates She lea'es them gashan at their cracks,

hersel : Are there that night decided : An' slips out-by the Some kendle couthie, side by side, She thro' the yard nearest taks, An' burn for the kiln she thegither trimly ; An' goes then, Some start awa wi' saucy pride, An' darklins grapet for the 'bauks,' ' An' jump out owre the chimlie And in the ' blue-clue throws then, Fu' high that night. Right fear't that night. LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS.

XII. XVI.

" ' ' An' ay she wiii't, an' ay she swat Our stibble-rig was Rab M'Graen, I wat she made nae A fallowr jaukin; clever, sturdy ; Till something held within the pat, His sin gat Eppie Sim wi' wean,

Guid L d ! but she was quaukin ! That liv'd in Achmacalla : But whether 'twas the Deil himsel, He gat hemp-seed, I mind it weel, Or whether 'twas a An' he o't bauk-en', made unco light ; Or whether it was Andrew Bell, But mony a day was by himsel, talkin She did na wait on He was sae sairly frighted To spier that night. That vera night."

XIII. XVII.

Wee Jenny to her Graunie says, Then up gat fechtan Jamie Fleck, " Will ye go wi' me, Graunie ? An' he swoor by his conscience,

I'll eat the at the That he could saw a apple glass, hemp-seed peck ; " I gat frae uncle Johnie : For it was a' but nonsense : She fuff't her pipe wi' sic a lunt, The auld guidman raught down the pock, In wrath she was sae An' out a handfu' him vap'rin, gied ; aizle She notic't na an brunt Syne bad him slip frae 'mang the folk, Her braw new worset apron Sometime when nae ane see'd him,

Out thro' that night. An' try't that night.

XIV. XVIII. " Ye little skelpie-limmer's-face ! He marches thro' amang the stacks, I daur sic Tho' he was sturtan you try sportin, something ; As seek the foul Thief ony place, The graip he for a harrow taks,

For him to spae'your fortune : An' haurls at his curpan :

Nae doubt but ye may get a sight ! And ev'ry now an' then, he says, hae to fear it " I Great cause ye ; Hemp-seed saw thee, For mony a ane has gotten a fright, An' her that is to be my lass An' liv'd an' di'd deleeret, Come after me, an' draw thee On sic a night. As fast this night."

XV. XIX.

" ' ' Ae hairst afore the Sherra-moor,' He whistl'd up Lord Lenox' March,' his I mind't as weel's yestreen To keep courage cheary ; I was a gilpey then, I'm sure Altho' his hair began to arch,

I was na past fyfteen : He was sae fley'd an' eerie : The simmer had been cauld an' wat, Till presently he hears a squeak, stuff An' then a an' An' was unco green ; grane gruntle ; a An' ay a rantan kirn we gat, He by his shouther gae keek, An' just on Halloween An' tumbl'd wi' a wintle It fell that night. Out-owre that night. FIRST EDITIOXS.1 OF ROBERT BURNS.

XX. XXIV. He roar'd a horrid murder-shout, A wanton widow Leezie was, In dreadfu' ! As desperation cantie as a kittlen ; An' an' auld come rinnan out, young But Och ! that night, amang the shaws,

An' hear the sad narration : She gat a fearfu' settlin ! He swoor 'twas hilchan Jean M'Craw, She thro' the whins, an' by the cairn, Or crouchie Merran Humphie An' owre the hill gaed scrievin;

Till ! she trotted thro' them a' stop ; Whare three lairds' lan's met at a burn, An' wha was it but Grumphie To dip her left sark-sleeve in, Asteer that night? Was bent that night.

XXL XXV.

fain to the barn Meg wad gaen, Whyles owre a linn the burnie plays,

To winn three wechts o' ; As thro' the it naething glen wimpl't ; for to the Deil her But meet lane, Whyles round a rocky scar it strays, She pat but little faith in : Whyles in a wiel it dimpl't; She gies the herd a pickle nits, Whyles glitter'd to the nightly rays, twa red cheeket dazzle An' apples, Wi' bickerin, dancin ; To watch, while for the barn she sets, Whyles cooket underneath the braes, In hopes to see Tarn Kipples Below the spreading hazle That vera night. Unseen that night.

XXII. XXVI.

She turns the key wi cannie thraw, Amang the brachens, on the brae,

An' owre the threshold ventures ; Between her an' the moon,

But first on Sawnie gies a ca', The Deil, or else an outler quey,

Syne bauldly in she enters : Gat up an' ga'e a croon : Leezie's heart maist the hool A ratton rattl'd up the wa', Poor lap ;

An' she cry'd, L d preserve her ! Near lav'rock-height she jumpet,

An' ran thro' midden-hole an' a', But mist a fit, an' in the pool An' pray'd wi' zeal and fervour, Out-owre the lugs she plumpet, Fu' fast that night. Wi' a plunge that night.

XXIII. XXVII.

They hoy't out Will, wi' sair advice; In order, on the clean hearth-stane, ' ' some fine braw ane The three are ; They hecht him ; luggies ranged It chanc'd the stack he faddom't thrice, An' ev'ry time great care is ta'en

Was timmer-propt for thrawin : To see them duly changed : He taks a swirlie auld moss-oak Auld uncle John, wha wedlock's joys

' carlin Sin' ' did For some black, grousome ; Mar's-year desire, An' loot a winze, an' drew a stroke, Because he gat the toom dish thrice, Till skin in blypes cam haurlin He heav'd them on the fire, AfFs nieves that night. In wrath that night. ^^-

42 LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS.

XXVIII. He gied me thee, o' tocher clear,

An' fifty mark ; Wi' merry sangs, an' friendly cracks, Tho' it was sma', 'twas weel-won gear, I wat they did na weary ; An' thou was stark. And unco tales, an' funnie jokes Their sports were cheap an' cheary : When first I gaed to woo my Jenny, Till butter'd sow'ns, wi' fragrant lurit, Ye then was trottan wi' your minnie : Set a' their gabs a-steerin; Tho' ye was trickie, slee, an' funnie, Syne, wi' a social glass o' strunt, Ye ne'er was donsie ; They parted aff careerin But hamely, tawie, quiet, an' cannie, Fu' blythe that night. An' unco sonsie.

That day ye pranc'd wi' muckle pride, When ye bure name my bonie bride : AULD FARMER'S THE An' sweet an' gracefu' she did ride,

Wi' maiden air ! tonthtg Salittatian Kyle-Stewart I could bragget wide, TO HIS AULD MARE, MAGGIE, For sic a pair.

On her the accustomed of Corn to hansel giving Eipp Tho' now ye dow but hoyte and hoble, in the New-year. An' wintle like a saumont-coble, That day ye was a jinker noble,

For heels an' win' !

GUTD I wish ! A New-year you, Maggie An' ran them till they a' did wauble, there's a to auld : Hae, ripp thy baggie Far, far behin' ! Tho' thou's howe-backit now, an' knaggie, I've seen the day When thou an' I were young an' skiegh, Thou could hae gaen like ony staggie, An' stable-meals at fairs were driegh, Out-owre the lay. How thou wad prance, an' snore, an' skriegh,

An' tak the road !

Tho' now thou's dowie, stiff an' crazy, Town's-bodies ran, an' stood abiegh, An' thy auld hide as white's a daisie, An' ca't thee mad. I've seen thee dappl't, sleek an' glaizie,

A bonie gray : When thou was corn't, an' I was mellow, He should been tight that daur't to raize thee, We took the road ay like a swallow : Ance in a day. At 'brooses' thou had ne'er a fellow, For pith an' speed;

Thou ance was i' the foremost rank, But ev'ry tail thou pay't them hollow, an' swank Whare'er thou A filly buirdly, steeve ; gaed. An' set weel down a shapely shank, e'er tread The hunter cattle As yird ; sma', droop-rumpl't, aibliiis waur't thee for a brattle An' could hae flown out-owre a stank, Might ; Like ony bird. But sax Scotch mile, thou try't their mettle, An' gar't them whaizle : nor but a wattle It's now some nine-an'-twenty year, Nae whip spur, just meere 0' saugh or hazle. Sin' thou was my guid-father's ; V FIRST EDITIONS.] OF ROBERT BURNS.

Thou was a noble ' An' auld end in starvin fittie-lan',' thy days may ; As e'er in tug or tow was drawn ! For my last fow,

Aft thee an' I, in aught hours' gaun, A heapet stimpart, I'll reserve ane On guid March-weather, Laid by for you. Hae turn'd sax rood beside our han', For days thegither. We've worn to crazy years thegither; We'll wi' anither toyte about ane ;

an' flisket Wi' teiitie care I'll flit thy tether Thou never braing't, an fetch't, ; To some hain'd But thy auld tail thou wad hae whisket, rig, Whare rax An' spread abreed thy weel-fill'd brisket, ye may nobly your leather, Wi' sma' Wi' pith an' power; fatigue. rair't an' Till sprittie knowes wad risket, An' slypet owre.

When frosts lay lang, an' snaws were deep, An' threaten'd labor back to keep, CirtU?'* I thy cog a wee bit heap gied INSCRIBED TO R. A[IKEN], ESQ.

Aboon the timmer ; I ken'd my Maggie wad na sleep For that, or Simmer. Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, obscure Their homely joys, and destiny ;

In cart or car thou never reestet ; Nor Grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile, The short and annals of the Poor. The brae thou wad hae fac't it simple steyest ; OKAY. Thou never lap, an' sten't, an' breastet,

Then stood to blaw ;

But just thy step a wee thing hastet, I. Thou snoov't awa. MY lov'd, my honor' d, much respected friend ! his No mercenary Bard homage pays ; is now bairn-time a' My pleugh thy ; With honest pride I scorn each selfish end,

Four brutes as e'er did draw : gallant ; My dearest meed, a friend's esteem and praise sax mae I've sell't Forbye awa, To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays, That thou hast nurst : in life's d scene The lowly train sequester' ; drew me thretteen an' They pund twa, The native feelings strong, the guileless ways, The vera warst. in would have been What A[iken] a cottage ; Ah! tho' his worth unknown, far happier there, I Mony a sair daurg we twa hae wrought, ween

An' wi' the weary warl' fought ! II. An' moriy an anxious day, I thought

wad be beat ! loud wi' We November chill blaws angry sugh ; here to we're is near a close Yet crazy age brought, The short'ning winter-day ; Wi' frae the something yet. The miry beasts retreating pleugh ;

The black'niiig trains o' craws to their repose : labour An' think na', my auld trusty Servan', The toil-worn Cotter frae his goes, moil is at an That now perhaps thou's less deservin, This night his weekly end; LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS.

" Collects his his his ! spades, mattocks, and hoes, And be sure to fear the Lord alway ! the morn in ease rest to Hoping and spend, And mind your duty, duely, morn and night I o'er his hame- And weary, the moor, course does Lest in temptation's path ye gang astray, ward bend. Implore his counsel and assisting might : They never sought in vain that sought the Lord

III. aright."

At length his lonely cot appears in view, Beneath the shelter of an aged tree; VII. Th' expectant wee-things, toddlan, stacher through But hark ! a rap comes gently to the door : To meet their 'Dad,' wi' flichterin noise and glee. Jenny, wha kens the meaning o' the same, His wee bit-ingle blinkan bonilie, Tells how a neebor lad came o'er the moor, His clean hearth-stane, his thrifty wifie's smile, To do some errands and convoy her hame. The lisping infant, prattling on his knee, The wily mother sees the conscious flame Does a' his weary kiaugh and care beguile, in flush her cheek Sparkle Jenny's e'e, and ; And makes him quite forget his labor and his toil. With heart-struck, anxious care, enquires his name, hafflins is afraid to While Jenny speak ; IV. Weel-pleas'd, the mother hears it's nae wild worth- less rake. Belyve, the elder bairns come drappin in, service the farmers roun' At out amang ; Some ca' the pleugh, some herd, some tentie rin VIII. A cannie errand to a neebor town : With him ben Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman-grown, kindly welcome, Jenny brings ; he takes the mother's In youthfu' bloom, love sparkling in her e'e, A strappan youth, eye ; Comes hame, perhaps to shew a braw new gown, Blythe, Jenny sees the visit's no ill ta'en; Or deposite her sair-won penny-fee, The father cracks o' horses, pleughs, and kye. To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be. The youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi' joy,

But blate an' laithfu', scarce can weel behave ; The wi' a woman's can V. mother, wiles, spy What maks the youth sae bashfu' and sae grave; With joy unfeign'd, brothers and sisters meet, Weel-pleas'd to think her bairn's respected like the And each for other's welfare : kindly spiers lave. social unnotic'd fleet The hours, swift-wing' d, ; Each tells the uncos that he sees or hears. their The parents, partial, eye hopeful years; V IX. forward the view Anticipation points ; happy love ! where love like this is found : The mother, wi' her needle and her sheers, heart-felt raptures ! bliss beyond compare ! Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new; I've paced much this weary mortal round, The father mixes a' wi' admonition due. And sage Experience bids me this declare " If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare, VI. vale One cordial in this melancholy ; Their master's and their mistress's command, 'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair, a' are warned to In other's breathe out the tender The youngkers obey ; arms, tale, And mind their labors wi' an eydent hand, Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the ev'n- And tho' out o' to or ne'er, sight, jauk play ; ing gale." FIRST EDITIONS.] OF ROBERT BURNS.

X. XIV.

Is there in human form, that bears a heart The priest-like father reads the sacred page, Abram was the friend of ! truth How on A wretch ! a villain lost to love and God high ; Or Moses bade eternal warfare That can, with studied, sly, ensnaring art, wage ? With Amalek's Betray sweet Jenny's unsuspecting youth ungracious progeny ;

I Or how the Bard did Curse on his perjur'd arts, dissembling smooth royal groaning lye, all exil'd? Beneath the stroke of Heavn's ire Are honor, virtue, conscience, avenging ; Or Job's and Is there no pity, no relenting ruth, pathetic plaint, wailing cry ; their child 1 Or Isaiah's fire Points to the parents fondling o'er rapt wild, seraphic ; distraction Or other Seers that tune the sacred Then paints the ruin'd maid, and their Holy lyre. wild? XV.

XL Perhaps the Christian Volume is the theme, How blood for man was shed But now the supper crowns their simple board, guiltless guilty ;

food : bore in Heaven the second The healsome 'parritch,' chief of Scotia's How He, who name,

* ' Hawkie does afford Had not on Earth whereon to his head : The soupe, their only ; lay her cood. How his first followers and servants That 'yont the hallan snugly chows sped ; The dame brings forth in complimental mood, The precepts sage they wrote to many a land : fell How who lone in Patmos To grace the lad, her weel-hain'd kebbuck, ; he, banished,

it : in the sun a And aft he's prest, and aft he ca's guid Saw mighty angel stand, The frugal wifie, garrulous, will tell And heard great Bab'lon's doom pronounced by How 'twas a towmond auld, sin' lint was i' the bell. Heaven's command.

XII. XVI.

The chearfu' supper done, wi' serious face, Then kneeling down, to Heaven's Eternal King

form a circle wide The the and the Husband : They, round the ingle, ; Saint, Father, prays " The sire turns o'er, with patriarchal grace, Hope springs exulting on triumphant wing,"

: thus all shall meet in future : The big ha'-bible, ance his father's pride That they days His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside, There ever bask in uncreated rays,

thin bare : No more to or shed the bitter tear His lyart haffets wearing and sigh ; Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, Together hymning their Creator's praise, with care In such still more He wales a portion judicious ; society yet dear; And "Let us worship God!" he says with solemn air. While circling Time moves round in an eternal sphere.

XIII. XVII.

They chant their artless notes in simple guise; Compar'd with this, how poor Religion's pride,

far the noblest : In all the of and of art They tune their hearts, by aim pomp method, ; ' ' to wide Perhaps Dundee's wild-warbling measures rise, When men display congregations

Devotion's the heart ! Or plaintive 'Martyrs,' worthy of the name; ev'ry grace, except ' Or noble ' Elgin beets the heaven-ward flame, The Power, incens'd, the pageant will desert

: the sacerdotal stole The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays The pompous strain, ; Italian trills are tame But in some far Compar'd with these, ; haply, cottage apart, raise the of the soul The tickl'd ears no heart-felt raptures ; May hear, well-pleas' d, language ; of Life the inmates enroll. Nae unison hae they with our Creator's praise. And in His Book poor LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS.

XVIII.

Then homeward all take off their sev'ral way ; ON TURNING HER UP IN HER NEST, WITH THE PLOUGH, The youngling cottagers retire to rest : NOVEMBER, 1785. 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, WEE, sleeket, cowran, tim'rous beastie,

what a in breastie ! And decks the lily fair in flow'ry pride, 0, panic's thy Thou iia Would, in the way His wisdom sees the best, need start aiva sae hasty, For them and for their little ones provide; Wi' bickerin brattle ! I wad be laith to rin an' chase But chiefly, in their hearts with grace divine preside. thee, Wi' murd'rin pattle I XIX.

I'm truly sorry man's dominion From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs, Has broken nature's social union, That makes her lov'd at home, rever'd abroad : An' justifies that ill opinion, Princes and lords are but the breath of kings, Which makes thee "An honest man's the noblest work of God:" startle, At me, thy poor, earth-born companion, And certes, in fair virtue's heavenly road, An' fellow-mortal ! The cottage leaves the palace far behind : What is a lordling's ? a cumbrous load, pomp I doubt thieve na, whyles, but thou may ; Disguising oft the wretch of human kind, What then ? poor beastie, thou maun live ! Studied in arts of in wickedness refin'd ! hell, A daimen-ieker in a thrave XX. 'S a sma' request; I'll get a blessin wi' the lave, Scotia ! my dear, my native soil I An' never miss't ! For whom my warmest wish to heaven is sent I sons of rustic toil Long may thy hardy Thy wee bit-housie, too, in ruin ! Be blest with health, and and sweet content! peace, It's silly wa's the win's are strewin ! And 0! heaven their lives may simple prevent An' naething, now, to big a new ane, From luxury's contagion, weak and vile ! 0' foggage green! Then, howe'er crowns and coronets be rent, An' bleak December's winds ensuin, A virtuous rise the populace may while, Baith snell an' keen ! And stand a wall of fire around their much-lov'd Isle. Thou saw the fields laid bare an' wast, XXL An' weary winter comin fast,

Thou ! who pour'd the patriotic tide, An' cozie here, beneath the blast, That stream'd thro' great, unhappy Wallace' heart; Thou thought to dwell

Till ! the cruel coulter Who dar'd to nobly stem tyrannic pride, crash past Out thro' cell. Or nobly die, the second glorious part : thy (The patriot's God peculiarly thou art, His That wee bit-heap o' leaves an' stibble friend, inspirer, guardian, and reward !)

Has cost thee a nibble ! never, never Scotia's realm desert; mony weary Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble, But still the patriot, and the patriot-bard, But house or hald, In bright succession raise, her ornament and guard! To thole the winter's sleety dribble,

An' cranreuch cauld ! FIRST EDITIONS.] OF ROBERT BURNS.

Ilk But, Mousie, thou art no thy-lane, happing bird, wee, helpless thing ! In proving foresight may be vain : That, in the merry months o' spring, The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men Delighted me to hear thee sing, Gang aft a-gley, What comes o' thee? An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain, Whare wilt thou cow'r thy chittering wing,

For promis'd joy ! An' close thy e'e?

Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me I Ev'n you on murd'ring errands toil'd, The present only toucheth thee : Lone from your savage homes exil'd, The blood-stain'd But, och 1 I backward cast my e'e roost, and sheep-cote spoil'd On prospects drear I My heart forgets, An' forward, tho' I canna see, While pityless the tempest wild

I guess an' fear ! Sore on your beats I

Now Phoebe, in her midnight reign, view'd the Dark-muffl'd, dreary plain ; flight. Still crowding thoughts, a pensive train, Rose in my soul, When on my ear this plaintive strain, Poor naked wheresoe'er wretches, you are, Slow-solemn, stole That bide the pelting of this pityless storm ! How shall your houseless heads, and unfed sides, " Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you Blow, blow, ye winds, with heavier gust ! From seasons such as these. And freeze, thou bitter-biting frost ! SHAKESPEARE. Descend, ye chilly, smothering snows ! Not all your rage, as now, united shows WHEN biting Boreas, fell and doure, More hard unkindness unrelenting, Sharp shivers thro' the leafless bow'r; Vengeful malice, unrepenting, When Phoebus gies a short-liv'd glow'r, Than heaven-illumin'd Man on brother Man

Far south the lift, bestows ! Dim-dark'ning thro' the flaky show'r, " Or whirling drift : See stern Oppression's iron grip, Or mad Ambition's gory hand, Ae the storm the rocked like blood-hounds from night steeples ; Sending, the slip,

Poor Labour sweet in ! sleep was locked ; Woe, want, and murder o'er a land While burns, wi' snawy wreeths up-choked, Ev'n in the peaceful rural vale, swirl tells the Wild-eddying ; Truth, weeping, mournful tale, Or, thro' the mining outlet booked, How pamper'd Luxury, Flatt'ry by her side,

Down headlong hurl : The parasite empoisoning her ear, With all the servile wretches in the rear, the doors an' o'er List'ning winnocks rattle, Looks proud Property, extended wide ; I thought me on the ourie cattle, And eyes the simple, rustic hind,

Or silly sheep, wha bide this brattle Whose toil upholds the glitt'ring show 0' winter war, A creature of another kind, And thro' the drift, deep-lairing, sprattle Some coarser substance, unrefm'd,

Beneath a scar. Plac'd for her lordly use thus far, thus vile, below! LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS.

" where is Love's tender throe Where, fond, (Epistle io With lordly Honor's lofty brow A BROTHER POET. The pow'rs you proudly own ? Is there, beneath Love's noble name, Can harbour, dark, the selfish aim, To bless himself alone ? I. Mark maiden-innocence a prey frae aff To love-pretending snares : WHILE winds Ben-Lomond blaw, This boasted Honor turns away, And bar the doors wi' driving snaw, Shunning soft Pity's rising sway, And hing us owre the ingle, Regardless of the tears and unavailing pray'rs ! I set me down to pass the time, Perhaps this hour, in mis'ry's squalid nest, And spin a verse or twa o' rhyme, She strains your infant to her joyless breast, In hamely westlin jingle. And with a mother's fears shrinks at the rocking While frosty winds blaw in the drift, blast ! Ben to the chimla lug, I grudge a wee the great-folk's gift, " Oh ye ! who, sunk in beds of down, That live sae bien an' snug : Feel not a want but what yourselves create, I tent less, and want less for a on his wretched Their fire-side Think, moment, fate, roomy ;

Whom friends and fortune quite disown ! But hanker, and canker,

Ill-satisfy'd keen Nature's clam'rous call, To see their cursed pride. Stretch'd on his straw he lays himself to sleep; While thro' the ragged roof and chinky wall, II.

Chill, o'er his slumbers, piles the driffcy heap ! It's hardly in a body's pow'r, Think on the dungeon's grim confine, To keep, at times, frae being sour, Where Guilt and poor Misfortune pine ! are shar'd To see how things ; Guilt, man, view ! erring relenting How best o' chiels are whyles in want, But shall thy legal rage pursue While coofs on countless thousands rant, The wretch, crushed low already And ken na how to wair't : cruel Fortune's undeserved blow? By But Davie, lad, ne'er fash your head, Affliction's sons are brothers in distress ; Tho' we hae little " gear; A brother to relieve, how exquisite the bliss ! We're fit to win our daily bread,

As lang's we're hale and fier : I heard nae mair, for Chanticleer " Mair spier na, nor fear na," Shook aff the pouthery snaw, Auld-age ne'er mind a feg ; And hail'd the morning with a cheer, The last o't, the warst o't, A cottage-rousing craw. Is only but to beg.

But this truth mind deep impress'd my III. Thro' all His works abroad, To lye in kilns and barns at e'en, The heart benevolent and kind T W hen banes are craz'd and bluid is thin, The most resembles God ! Is doubtless great distress I

Yet then content could make us blest ; Ev'n then, sometimes, we'd snatch a taste Of truest happiness. FIRST EDITIONS.] OF ROBERT BURNS.

The honest heart that's free frae a' Think ye, are we less blest than they, Intended fraud or guile, Wha scarcely tent us in their way, However Fortune kick the ba', As hardly worth their while ?

! in Has ay some cause to smile : Alas how aft, haughty mood,

An' mind still, you'll find still God's creatures they oppress 1 Or a' that's A comfort this na sma' ; else, neglecting guid,

Nae mair then we'll care then, They riot in excess ! Nae farther we can fa'. Baith careless and fearless

Of either heaven or he][ ; IV. Esteeming, and deeming

What tho', like Commoners of air, It's a' an idle tale I We wander out we know not where, But either house or hal' ? VII. Yet Nature's charms, the hills and woods, Then let us chearfu' The sweeping vales, and foaming floods, acquiesce, Are free alike to all. Nor make our scanty pleasures less,

at our : In days when daisies deck the ground, By pining state And blackbirds whistle clear, And, ev'n should misfortunes come, here With honest joy our hearts will bound, I, wha sit, hae met wi' some, An's thankfu' for them To see the coming year : yet. the wit of to Youth On braes when we please then, They gie Age ; let us ken oursel We'll sit and sowth a tune ; They ; make us see the naked Syne rhyme till't, we'll time till't, They truth, And sing't when we hae done. The real guid and ill. Tho' losses and crosses V. Be lessons right severe, There's wit It's no in titles nor in rank ; there, ye'll get there, It's no in wealth like Lon'on Bank, Ye'll find nae other where.

To purchase peace and rest :

It's no in makin muckle, mair ; VIII. It's no in books, it's no in lear,

To make us truly blest : But tent me, Davie, Ace o' Hearts ! If Happiness hae not her seat (To say aught less wad wrang the cartes,

And centre in the breast, And flatt'ry I detest) be or or This life has for and I We may wise, rich, great, joys you ; But never can be blest : And joys that riches ne'er could buy, Nae treasures nor pleasures And joys the very best. Could make us a' the o' the happy lang ; There's pleasures heart, The heart ay's the part ay The lover an' the frien'; That makes us right or wrang. Ye hae your Meg, your dearest part,

And I my darling Jean ! VI. It warms me, it charms me,

Think : ye, that sic as you and I, To mention but her name Wha drudge and drive thro' wet and dry, It heats me, it beets me,

Wi' toil sets a' on flame ! never-ceasing ; And me [POETICAL WORKS.

But least then the beast then

Should rue this hasty ride, all ye Pow'rs who rule above ! I'll light now, and dight now Thou whose very self art love ! His sweaty, wizen'd hide. Thou know'st my words sincere 1 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, OCCASIONED BY THE UNFORTUNATE ISSUE OP A And solace to my breast. FRIEND'S AMOUR. Thou Being, All-seeing,

hear my fervent pray'r ! Still take her, and make her

most care ! ! Thy peculiar Alas ! how oft does Goodness wound itself

And sweet Affection prove the spring of Woe ! HOME X.

AJ1 hail ! ye tender feelings dear ! The smile of love, the friendly tear, I.

The I sympathetic glow THOU pale Orb, that silent shines, since, this world's thorny Long ways While care-untroubled mortals sleep ! Had number'd out weary days, my Thou seest a wretch, who inly pines, Had it not been for you ! And wanders here to wail and weep ! Fate still has blest me with a friend, With Woe I nightly vigils keep, care ill In ev'ry and ; Beneath thy wan, unwarming beam ; And oft a more band, endearing And mourn, in lamentation deep, A tie more tender still. How life and love are all a dream ! It lightens, it brightens tenebrific The scene, II. To meet with, and greet with 1 joyless view thy rays adorn My Davie, or my Jean ! The faintly-marked, distant hill : I joyless view thy trembling horn, XL Reflected in the gurgling rill.

My fondly-fluttering heart, be still I 0, how that Name inspires my style I Thou busy pow'r, Remembrance, cease ! The words come skelpan, rank and file, Ah ! must the agonizing thrill Amaist before I ken ! For ever bar returning peace ! The ready measure rins as fine, As Phoebus and the famous Nine III. Were glowran owre my pen. No My spaviet Pegasus will limp, idly-feign'd, poetic pains he's het love-lorn claim : Till ance fairly ; My sad, lamentings he'll and Arcadian strains And then hilch, and stilt, jimp, No shepherd's pipe ;

And rin an unco fit : No fabled tortures, quaint and tame. Of)-

FIRST EDITIONS.] OF ROBERT BURNS.

The faith plighted ; the mutual flame ; VIII.

The oft-attested Pow'rs above ; And when my nightly couch I try, The promis'd father's tender name ; S ore-harass' d out with care and grief, These were the pledges of love ! my My toil-beat nerves, and tear-worn eye, Keep watchings with the nightly thief: IV. Or if I slumber, Fancy, chief,

Encircled in her clasping arms, Reigns, haggard-wild, in sore affright :

How have the raptur'd moments flown ! Ev'n day, all-bitter, brings relief How have I wish'd for fortune's charms, From such a horror-breathing night.

For her dear sake, and her's alone I

And, must I think it ! is she gone, IX. secret heart's boast ? My exulting thou bright Queen, who, o'er th' expanse, And does she heedless hear groan ? my Now highest reign'st, with boundless sway ! And is she ever lost ? ever, Oft has thy silent-marking glance Observ'd us, fondly-wand'ring, stray I V. The time, unheeded, sped away,

Oh I can she bear so base a heart, While love's luxurious pulse beat high, So lost to Honor, lost to Truth, Beneath thy silver-gleaming ray, As from the fondest lover part, To mark the mutual-kindling eye. The plighted husband of her youth ?

Alas I Life's path may be unsmooth ! X.

Her lie thro' distress ! way may rough ! Oh scenes in strong remembrance set 1 Then, who her and will soothe, pangs pains Scenes, never, never to return I Her sorrows share and make them less ? Scenes, if in stupor I forget,

Again I feel, again I burn ! VI. From ev'ry joy and pleasure torn, Ye Hours that o'er us Life's vale I'll wander thro' winged past, weary ; Enraptur'd more, the more enjoy'd, And hopeless, comfortless, I'll mourn Your dear remembrance in my breast A faithless woman's broken vow!

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 ! AN ODE. VII.

The morn, that warns th' approaching day, I. Awakes me up to toil and woe : I see the hours in long array, OPPRESS'D with grief, oppress'd with care, I That must suffer, lingering slow. A burden more than I can bear, Full a and a I set many pang, many throe, me down and sigh : Keen Recollection's direful train, Life ! thou art a galling load, Must wring my soul, ere Phoebus, low, Along a rough, a weary road, Shall kiss the distant, western main. To wretches such as 1 1 LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS,

Dim-backward as I cast my View, The lucky moment to improve, What sick'ning scenes appear ! And just to stop, and just to move,

What sorrows yet may pierce me thro', With self-respecting art :

Too justly I may fear ! But ah ! those pleasures, loves and joys, Still caring, despairing, Which I too keenly taste, Must be bitter doom The can my ; Solitary despise ; My woes here shall close ne'er, Can want, and yet be blest ! But with the closing tomb I He needs not, he heeds not,

Or human love or hate ; II. Whilst I here must cry here

Happy ! ye sons of busy-life, At perfidy ingrate I Who, equal to the bustling strife, V. No other view regard ! Ev'n when the wished end's deny'd, Oh! enviable, early days, Yet while the busy means are ply'd, When dancing thoughtless Pleasure's maze, They bring their own reward : To care, to guilt unknown ! for Whilst I, a hope-abandon'd wight, How ill exchang'd riper times, Unfitted with an aim, To feel the follies, or the crimes,

Meet ev'ry sad returning night, Of others, or my own !

And joyless morn the same ! Ye tiny elves that guiltless sport, You, bustling and justling, Like linnets in the bush, little know the ills Forget each grief and pain ; Ye ye court,

is wish I I, listless, yet restless, When manhood your Find ev'ry prospect vain. The losses, the crosses, active That man engage ; III. The fears all, the tears all,

How blest the Solitary's lot, Of dim declining Age 1 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 ! Jftabt io to his Or haply, ev'ning thought, A DIEGE. By unfrequented stream, The ways of men are distant brought,

A faint-collected dream : I. While praising, and raising blast His thoughts to heav'n on high, WHEN chill November's surly As wand'ring, meand'ring, Made fields and forests bare, forth He views the solemn sky. One ev'ning, as I wand'red Along the banks of Aire, IV. I spy'd a man, whose aged step

Seem'd worn with care ; Than I, no lonely Hermit plac'd weary, furrow'd o'er with Where never human footstep trac'd, His face was years, And was his hair. Less fit to play the part ; hoary m^-

FIRST EDITIONS.]

II. But oh ! what crowds in ev'ry land, All wretched and "Young stranger, whither wand'rest thou?" forlorn, the rev'rend Thro' weary life this lesson learn, Began Sage ; " That Man was made to mourn. Does thirst of wealth thy step constrain, Or youthful pleasure's rage ? VII. Or haply, prest with cares and woes, " Too soon thou hast began Many and sharp the num'rous ills

To wander forth, with me, to mourn Inwoven with our frame I The miseries of Man. More pointed still we make ourselves,

Regret, remorse, and shame I III. And Man, whose heav'n-erected face " The sun that overhangs yon moors, The smiles of love adorn Out-spreading far and wide, Man's inhumanity to Man Where hundreds labour to support Makes countless thousands mourn!

A haughty lordling's pride ; I've seen yon weary winter-sun VIII. Twice times return " forty ; See yonder poor, o'erlabour'd wight, And ev'ry time has added proofs, So abject, mean, and vile, That Man was made to mourn. Who begs a brother of the earth To him leave toil give to ; IV. And see his fellow-worm " lordly Man ! while in thy early years, The poor petition spurn, How of time ! prodigal Unmindful, tho' a weeping wife Mis-spending all thy precious hours, And helpless offspring mourn. Thy glorious, youthful prime ! Alternate follies take the sway ; . IX. Licentious passions burn ; "If I'm design'd yon lordling's slave, Which tenfold force gives Nature's law, Nature's law design'd, That Man was made to mourn. By Why was an independent wish V. E'er planted in my mind ? If not, why am I subject to "Look not alone on youthful prime, His or scorn? Or manhood's active cruelty, might ; Or has Man the will and pow'r Man then is useful to his kind, why 1 To make his fellow mourn ? Supported is his right :

But see him on the edge of life, X. With cares and sorrows worn ; " let not this too Then Age and Want, oh I ill match'd pair ! Yet, much, my Son, Show Man was made to mourn. Disturb thy youthful breast : This partial view of human-kind VI. Is surely not the last ! " A few seem favourites of Fate, The poor, oppressed, honest man In carest been pleasure's lap ; Had never, sure, born, Yet, think not all the rich and great Had there not been some recompense

Are likeAvise truly blest : To comfort those that mourn ! 54 LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS.

XL Then all I want (Oh, do thou grant " This one of Death ! the poor man's dearest friend, request mine!) Since to Thou dost The kindest and the best ! enjoy deny,

Assist me to ! Welcome the hour my aged limbs resign

Are laid with thee at rest !

The great, the wealthy fear thy blow, torn From pomp and pleasure ;

But, oh I a blest relief for those " That weary-laden mourn ! IN THE PROSPECT OF DEATH.

I.

Winter: THOU unknown, Almighty Cause Of all my hope and fear! A DIKGE. In whose dread presence, ere an hour,

Perhaps I must appear I

I. II.

If I have wander'd in those THE wintry West extends his blast, paths

Of life I to shun ; And hail and rain does blaw ; ought As in Or, the stormy North sends driving forth something, loudly, my breast,

Remonstrates I have done : The blinding sleet and snaw : While, tumbling brown, the burn comes down, III. And roars frae bank to brae ;

And bird and beast in covert rest, Thou know'st that Thou hast formed me

And pass the heartless day. With passions wild and strong; And list'ning to their witching voice II. Has often led me wrong. " The sweeping blast, the sky o'ercast," IV. The joyless winter-day, Let others fear, to me more dear Where human weakness has come short,

Than all the pride of May : Or frailty stept aside,

The tempest's howl, it soothes my soul, Do Thou, All-Good I for such Thou art, it seems to of hide. My griefs join ; In shades darkness The leafless trees my fancy please,

Their fate resembles mine I V.

Where with intention I have err'd, III. No other plea I have Thou Pow'r whose scheme art and Goodness still Supreme, mighty But Thou good ;

These woes of mine fulfill ; Delighteth to forgive.

Here, firm, I rest : they must be best, Because they are Thy will I tr

FIRST EDITIONS.] OF ROBERT BURNS.

ON THE SAME OCCASION. A PRAYER.

LYING AT A REVEREND FRIEND'S HOUSE ONE NIGHT, THE WHY am I loth to leave this earthly scene ? AUTHOR LEFT THE FOLLOWING VERSES IN THE ROOM

WHERE HE SLEPT : Have I so found it full of pleasing charms ? Some drops of joy with draughts of ill between; I. Some gleams of sunshine mid renewing storms. THOU dread who Is it departing pangs my soul alarms? Pow'r, reign'st above, I know Thou wilt me hear; Or Death's unlovely, dreary, dark abode ? for this of For for terrors are in arms When scene peace and love, guilt, guilt, my ; I make sincere. I tremble to approach an angry God, my pray'r And justly smart beneath his sin-avenging rod. II.

The Sire the mortal Fain would I say "Forgive my foul offence 1" hoary stroke, to Long, long be pleas'd spare ; Fain promise never more to disobey : To bless his little filial flock, But, should my Author health again dispense, And show what men are. I desert fair Virtue's good Again might way ; in Again Folly's path might go astray ; III. Again exalt the brute and sink the man : She, who her lovely offspring eyes Then how should I for Heavenly Mercy pray, With tender hopes and fears Who act so counter Heavenly Mercy's plan? bless her with a mother's Who sin so oft have mourn'd, yet to temptation ran? joys, But spare a mother's tears !

Thou, Great Governor of all below I IV. If I may dare a lifted eye to Thee, Their hope, their stay, their Thy nod can make the tempest cease to blow, darling youth, In manhood's dawning blush Or still the tumult of the raging sea : Bless him, Thou God of love and truth, With that controlling pow'r assist ev'n me, to a wish. furious to confine Up parent's Those headlong, passions ; For all unfit I feel my powers be, V.

To rule their torrent in th' allowed line ; The beauteous, seraph Sister-band 0, aid me with Thy help, Omnipotence Divine ! With earnest tears I pray ; Thou know'st the snares on ev'ry hand, Guide Thou their steps alway.

VI.

When soon or late they reach that coast, O'er Life's ocean driven rough ; May they rejoice, no wand'rer lost,

A Family in Heaven I LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS.

Sure Thou, Almighty, canst not act

From cruelty or wrath I 0, free my weary eyes from tears,

THE man, in life where-ever plac'd, Or close them fast in death ! Hath happiness in store, Who walks not in the wicked's way, But if I must afflicted be,

Nor learns their lore I To suit some wise guilty design ; Then, man my soul with firm resolves

Nor from the seat of scornful Pride To bear and not repine I Casts forth his eyes abroad ; But with humility and awe Still walks before his God.

That man shall flourish like the trees Which the streamlets by grow ; TIIE The fruitful top is spread on high, And firm the root below. x oi the |totieth

But he whose blossom buds in guilt Shall to the ground be cast, And, like the rootless stubble, tost Before the blast. sweeping THOU, the first, the greatest friend

Of all the human race !

For why ? that God the good adore Whose strong right hand has ever been

Hath them and rest Their 1 giv'n peace ; stay and dwelling-place But hath decreed that wicked men

Shall ne'er be truly blest. Before the mountains heav'd their heads Beneath Thy forming hand, Before this ponderous globe itself

Arose at Thy command :

& irager, That Pow'r which rais'd and still upholds This universal frame, UNDER THE PRESSURE OF VIOLENT ANGUISH. From countless, unbeginning time Was ever still the same.

THOU great Being ! what Thou art, Those mighty periods of years, to know Surpasses me ; Which seem to us so vast, Yet sure I am, that known to Thee Appear no more before Thy sight Are all Thy works below. Than yesterday that's past.

creature here before Thee Thou the word Thy stands, giv'st ; Thy creature, Man,

All wretched distrest Is to : and ; existence brought " Yet sure those ills that wring my soul Again Thou say'st, Ye sons of men, " Obey Thy high behest. Return ye into nought !

FIRST EDITIONS.] OF ROBERT BURNS.

Thou with all their layest them, cares, There, in thy scanty mantle clad, In snawie everlasting sleep ; Thy bosom sun-ward spread, As with a flood, Thou tak'st them off Thou lifts thy unassuming head With In overwhelming sweep. humble guise ; But now the share uptears thy bed, flourish like the They morning flow'r, Arid low thou lies 1

In beauty's pride array'd ;

But long ere night cut down it lies, Such is the fate of artless Maid, All wither'd and decay'd. Sweet flow'ret of the rural shade ! By Love's simplicity betrayed, trust And guileless ;

Till she, like thee, all soil'd, is laid

Low i' the dust. a Jttountaitt

Such is the fate of simple Bard, OK TURNING ONE DOWN WITH THE PLOUGH IN APRIL, 1786. Life's On rough ocean luckless starr'd ! Unskilful he to note the card Of prudent Lore, Till billows and blow WEE, modest, crimson-tipped flow'r, rage, gales hard,

And whelm him o'er ! Thou's met me in an evil hour ; For I maun crush amang the stoure Such fate to Worth is Thy slender stem : suffering giv'n, Who with wants and woes has To spare thee now is past my pow'r, long striv'n, Thou bonie gem. By human pride or cunning driv'n

To Mis'ry's brink ; Till wrench'd of but Alas ! it's no thy neebor sweet, ev'ry stay Heav'n,

sink ! The bonie lark, companion meet ! He, ruin'd, Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet, thou mourn'st the Wi's spreckl'd breast ! Ev'n who Daisy's fate, That fate is thine no distant date When upward-springing, blythe, to greet ; The purpling East. Stern Rum's plough-share drives, elate, Full on thy bloom, Cauld blew the bitter-biting North Till crush'd beneath the furrow's weight,

birth Shall be ! Upon thy early, humble ; thy doom Yet chearfully thou glinted 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 0' clod or stane,

Adorns the histie stibble-field, Unseen, alane. 58 LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS.

tun. Mis*

WITH BEATTIE'S POEMS FOR A NEW-YEAR'S GIFT.

JAN. 1, 1787. i.

ALL hail, inexorable lord ! At whose destruction-breathing word, AGAIN the silent wheels of time The mightiest empires fall ! Their annual round have driv'n, Thy cruel, woe-delighted train, tho' scarce in maiden The ministers of Grief and Pain, And you, prime, Are so much nearer Heav'n. A sullen welcome, all ! With stern-resolv'd, despairing eye, No have I from Indian coasts I see each aimed dart ; gifts

The infant to hail ; For one has cut my dearest tye, year I send more than India boasts, And quivers in my heart. you In Edwin's tale. Then low'ring, and pouring, simple

The storm no more I dread ; sex with and faithless Tho' thick'ning, and black'ning, Our guile, love, Is too true Round my devoted head. charg'd, perhaps ; But may, dear Maid, each lover prove II. An Edwin still to you.

And thou grim Pow'r, by Life abhorr'd, While life a pleasure can afford,

Oh I hear a wretch's pray'r ! No more I shrink appall'd, afraid; a I court, I beg thy friendly aid, OEpistU to J0mt0, Jrunb.

To close this scene of care ! When shall my soul, in silent peace, life's Resign joyless day? 1786. May , My weary heart its throbbings cease, Cold-mould'ring in the clay ? I. No fear more, no tear more, I LANG hae thought, my youthfu' friend, To stain my lifeless face, A something to have sent you, Enclasped, and grasped, Tho' it should serve nae ither end

Within cold embrace I thy Than just a kind memento : But how the subject theme may gang,

Let time and chance determine ; out a Perhaps it may turn sang ; Perhaps, turn out a sermon.

II.

lad Ye'll try the world soon, my ; And, Andrew dear, believe me, Ye'll find mankind an unco squad, And muckle they may grieve ye : FIRST EDITIONS.] OF ROBERT BURNS.

For care and trouble set your thought, VII. Ev'n when end's attained your ; To catch Dame Fortune's golden smile, And a' your views may come to nought, her Assiduous wait upon ; Where nerve is strained. ev'ry And gather gear by ev'ry wile That's justify'd by Honor : III. Not for to hide it in a hedge, for train I'll no say, men are villains a'; Nor a attendant ; The real, harden'd wicked, But for the glorious privilege Wha hae nae check but human law, Of being independent.

Are to a few restricked : VIII. But, och I mankind are unco weak, The fear o' Hell's a An' little to be trusted ; hangman's whip, To haud the wretch in order If Self the wavering balance shake, ; But where feel Honor It's rarely right adjusted ! ye your grip, Let that ay be your border : IV. Its slightest touches, instant pause- a' Debar side-pretences ; Yet they wha fa' in Fortune's strife, And resolutely keep its laws, Their fate we should na censure, Uncaring consequences. For still th' important end of life

answer : They equally may IX. A man may hae an honest heart, The Creator to revere, Poortith stare great Tho' hourly him ; Must sure become the Creature; A man may tak a neebor's part, But still the cant him. preaching forbear, Yet hae nae cash to spare . And eVn the rigid feature : Yet ne'er with wits to V. profane range, Be complaisance extended; free, aff han', story tell, Ay your An atheist-laugh's a poor exchange wi' a When bosom crony ; For Deity offended ! But still keep something to yoursel Ye scarcely tell to ony. X. Conceal yoursel as weel's ye can When ranting round in Pleasure's ring, Frae critical dissection; be blinded Religion may ; But keek thro' ev'ry other man, Or if she gie a random sting, Wi' sharpen'd, sly inspection. It be little minded may ; But when on Life we're tempest-driv'n, VI. A conscience but a canker The sacred lowe o' weel-plac'd love, A correspondence fix'd wi' Heav'n,

it noble anchor ! Luxuriantly indulge ; Is sure a But never tempt th' illicit rove, XL Tho' naething should divulge it : I the o' the sin wave quantum ; Adieu, dear, amiable Youth!

hazard of ne'er ! The concealing ; Your heart can be wanting

But, och ! it hardens a' within, May Prudence, Fortitude, and Truth, And petrifies the feeling ! Erect your brow undaunting ! LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS.

In " ploughman phrase, God send you speed," 'Twill mak her poor, auld heart, I fear, Still to daily grow wiser; In flinders flee : And may ye better reck the rede, He was her Laureat monie a year,

Than ever did th' Adviser I That's owre the Sea !

He saw Misfortune's cauld Nor-west Lang mustering up a bitter blast;

A Jillet brak his heart at last,

111 may she be I So, took a birth afore the (Dtt a Scateh mast, An' owre the Sea. GONE TO THE WEST INDIES. To tremble under Fortune's cummock,

' On scarce a bellyfu' o' drummock,' Wi' his proud, independent stomach Could ill A' YE wha live by sowps o' drink, agree ; row't his hurdies in a A' ye wha live by crambo-clink, So, hammock, An' owre the Sea. A' ye wha live and never think,

Come, mourn wi' me ! He ne'er was to Our billie's gien us a' a jink, gien great misguidin, Yet coin his wad na bide in An' owre the Sea ! pouches ;

Wi' him it ne'er was under hidin ;

He dealt it free : Lament him a' ye rantan core, The Muse was a' that he took Wha dearly like a random-splore; pride in, That's owre the Sea. Nae mair he'll join the merry roar, In social key ; Jamaica use him For now he's taen anither shore, bodies, weel,

An' him in a cozie biel : An' owre the Sea ! hap Ye'll find him ay a dainty chiel,

An' fou o' : The bonie lasses weel may wiss him, glee He wad na the vera Deil, And in their dear petitions place him : wrang'd That's owre the Sea. The widows, wives, an' a' may bless him

Wi' tearfu' e'e ; Fareweel, rhyme-composing billie I For weel I wat they'll sairly miss him my

Your native soil was ill-willie ; That's owre the Sea ! right like But may ye flourish a lily,

Now bonilie ! Fortune, they hae room to grumble ! I'll toast in hindmost Hadst thou taen aff some drowsy bummle, you my gillie, Tho' owre the Sea ! Wha can do nought but fyke an' fumble, 'Twad been nae plea; But he was gleg as onie wumble,

That's owre the Sea !

Auld, cantie Kyle may weepers wear,

An' stain them wi' the saut, saut tear : ^

FIRST EDITIONS.] OF ROBERT BURNS.

But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,

The trembling earth resounds his tread : Clap in his walie nieve a blade,

He'll mak it whissle ; FAIR fa' sonsie your honest, face, An' legs, an' arms, an' heads will sned,

Great Chieftan o' the Puddin-race I Like taps o' thrissle. Aboon them a' ye tak your place,

or thairm : Painch, tripe, Ye Pow'rs wha mak mankind your care, Weel are o' a ' ye wordy grace' And dish them out their bill o' fare, As arm. lang's my Auld Scotland wants nae [skinking] ware That in jaups luggies ; The trencher there groaning ye fill, But, if ye wish her gratefu' pray'r, Your hurdies like a distant hill, Gie her a haggis ! ' Your pin' wad help to mend a mill In time o' need, While thro' your pores the dews distil Like amber bead.

His knife see Rustic-labour dight, TO G[AVIN] H[AMILTON], ESQ. An' cut you up wi' ready slight, Trenching your gushing entrails bright, Like onie ditch; EXPECT na, Sir, in this narration, And then, what a glorious sight, A fleechan, fleth'ran Dedication, Warm-reekin, rich I To roose you up, an' ca' you guid, An' sprung o' great an' noble bluid; horn for stretch an' Then, horn, they strive Because ye're surnam'd like His Grace,

Deil tak the hindmost I on they drive, Perhaps related to the race : Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve Then, when I'm tir'd and sae are ye, Are bent like drums ; Wi' mony a fulsome, sinfu' lie, auld maist like Then Guidman, to rive, Set up a face, how I stop short, 4 Bethanket !' hums. For fear your modesty be hurt.

Is there that his owre French ragout, This may do maun do, Sir, wi' them wha Or olio that wad staw a Maun the for a sow, please great-folk wamefou ;

Or fricassee wad mak her spew For me ! sae laigh I need na bow, Wi' perfect sconner, For, Lord be thanket, I can plough.; Looks down wi' sneering, scornfu' view And when I downa yoke a naig, On sic a dinner ? Then, Lord be thanket, I can beg; Sae I shall say, an' that's nae flatt'rin,

Poor devil ! see him owre his trash, It's just sic Poet an' sic Patron. As feckless as a wither'd rash, His shank a some him spindle guid whip-lash, The Poet, guid angel help ;

His nieve a nit I ill ! ; Or else, fear, some ane skelp him Thro' bluidy flood or field to dash, He may do weel for a' he's done yet, how unfit ! But only he's no just begun yet. LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS.

The Patron a (Sir, ye maim forgie me ; Grunt up solemn, lengthen'd groan, I winna come what will o' And damn a' Parties but lie, me), your own ; On ev'ry hand it will allow'd be, I'll warrant then, ye're nae deceiver, He's just nae better than he shou'd be. A steady, sturdy, staunch Believer.

wha leave the o' I readily and freely grant, ye springs Calvin, see For gumlie dubs of your ain delvin ! He downa a poor man want ; Ye sons of it Heresy and Error, What's no his ain, he winna tak ;

Ye'll some in terror ! it day squeel quaking What ance he says, he winna break ; When Vengeance draws the sword in wrath, Ought he can lend he'll no refus't, And in the fire throws the sheath Till aft his is abus'd ; guidness ; When Ruin, with his besom, And rascals whyles that do him wrang, sweeping Just frets till Heav'n commission gies him ; Ev'n that, he does na mind it lang : While o'er the harp pale Misery moans, As master, landlord, husband, father, And strikes the ever-deep'ning tones, He does na fail his part in either. Still louder shrieks, and heavier groans !

But then, nae thanks to him for a' that; Your pardon, Sir, for this digression : ca' that Nae ye can ; godly symptom I maist Dedication forgat my ; It's naething but a milder feature But when Divinity comes 'cross me, Of our poor, sinfu', corrupt Nature : My readers still are sure to lose me. Ye'll get the best o' moral works, black Gentoos, and Pagan Turks, 'Mang So, Sir, you see 'twas nae daft vapour : Or .hunters wild on Ponotaxi, But I maturely thought it proper, Wha never heard of Orth-d-xy. When a' my works I did review, That he's the poor man's friend in need, To dedicate them, Sir, to you : The Gentleman in word and deed, it Because (ye need na tak ill)

It's no thro' terror of D-mn-t-n ; I thought them something like yoursel. It's just a carnal inclination.

Then patronize them wi' your favor, thou Morality, deadly bane, And your Petitioner shall ever

tens o' thousands thou hast slain ! Thy I had amaist said, ever pray, Vain is his whase and trust is hope, stay But that's a word I need na say :

In moral Truth and Justice ! Mercy, For prayin, I hae little skill o't :

I'm baith dead-sweer, an' wretched ill o't : stretch a to catch a No point plack ; But I'se repeat each poor man's pray'r, Abuse a brother to his back ; That kens or hears about you, Sir Steal thro' the winnock frae a wh-re, " the rake that taks the door ne'er Misfortune's bark, But point ; May gowling Be to the poor like onie whunstane, Howl thro' the dwelling o' the Clerk I to the ne'er his honest And haud their noses grunstane ; May gen'rous, heart,

art o' For that same smart ! Ply ev'ry legal thieving ; gen'rous spirit No matter stick to sound believing. May K[ennedy]'s far-honor'd name Lang beet his hymeneal flame, at least a Learn three-mile pray'rs, an half-mile graces, Till H[amilton]s, diz'n,

an' faces Are frae their labors risen : Wi' weel-spread looves, lang, wry ; nuptial FIRST EDITIONS.] OF ROBERT BURNS.

Five bonie lasses round their table, And sev'n braw fellows, stout an' able, ON SEEING ONE ON A LADY'S BONNET AT CHURCH. To serve their King an' Country weel,

By word, or pen, or pointed steel ! May Health and Peace, with mutual rays,

o' his HA ! whare crowlan ferlie ? Shine on the ev'ning days ; ye gaun, ye Your sairlie Till his wee, curlie John's ier-oe, impudence protects you ; When ebbing life nae mair shall flow, I canna say but ye strunt rarely, Owre and lace The last, sad, mournful rites bestow!" gauze ; Tho' faith, I fear, ye dine but sparely sic a I will not wind a lang conclusion, On place. With complimentary effusion; Ye blastet But, whilst your wishes and endeavours ugly, creepan, wonner, saunt an' Are blest with Fortune's smiles and favours, Detested, shunn'd, by sinner, How daur set fit her, I am, Dear Sir, with zeal most fervent, ye your upon Sae fine a Your much indebted, humble servant. lady? Gae somewhere else, and seek your dinner On some But if (which Pow'rs above prevent) poor body. That iron-hearted carl, Want, in haffet Swith, some beggar's squattle ; Attended, in his grim advances, There ye may creep, and sprawl, and sprattle By sad mistakes and black mischances, Wi' ither kindred, jumping cattle, While hopes, and joys, and pleasures fly him, In shoals and nations ; Make you as poor a dog as I am,

' ' Whare horn nor bane ne'er daur unsettle Your humble servant then no more ; Your thick For who would humbly serve the poor ? plantations.

But, by a poor man's hopes in Heav'n ! Now haud you there, ye're out o' sight, While recollection's is pow'r giv'n and Below the fatt'rels, snug tight ; If, in the vale of humble life, Na, faith ye yet ! ye'll no be right, The victim sad of Fortune's strife, Till ye've got on it, I, thro' the tender-gushing tear, The vera tow'rin Master dear tapmost, height Should recognise my ; 0' Miss's bonnet. If friendless, low, we meet together,

Then^Sir, your hand my Friend and Brother ! My sooth ! right bauld ye set your nose out, As plump an' gray as onie grozet : for some rank, mercurial rozet,

Or fell, red smeddum

I'd gie you sic a hearty dose o't,

Wad dress your droddum !

I wad na been surpris'd to spy flainen You on an auld wife's toy ; Or aiblins some bit duddie boy, On's wyliecoat;

But Miss's fine Lunardi ! fie ! How dam- ye do't ? LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS.

Jenny, dinna toss your head, Attentive still to Sorrow's wail,

set beauties a' abread ! Or modest Merit's silent An' your claim ;

Ye little ken what cursed speed And never may their sources fail ! The blastie's rnakin! And never envy blot their name ! Thae winks and finger-ends, I dread,

Are notice takin ! IV.

Thy daughters bright thy walks adorn, wad some Pow'r the giftie gie us Gay as the gilded summer sky, To see oursels as others see us ! Sweet as the dewy, milk-white thorn, It wad frae monie a blunder free us Dear as the raptur'd thrill of joy I An' foolish notion : Fair B[urnet] strikes th' adoring eye : airs in dress an' wad lea'e What gait us, Heav'n's beauties shine on my fancy ; And ev'n devotion ! I see the Sire of Love on high,

And own His work indeed divine !

V.

the least to There, watching high alarms, rude fortress afar Thy rough, gleams ; Like some bold vet'ran, gray in arms,

And mark'd with a scar : I. many seamy The pond'rous wall and massy bar, EDINA! Scotia's darling seat! Grim-rising o'er the rugged rock, and tow'rs All hail thy palaces ; Have oft withstood assailing war, Where once, beneath a Monarch's feet, And oft repell'd th' invader's shock. Sat Legislation's sov'reign pow'rs !

From marking wildly-scatt'red flow'rs, VI. of I As on the banks Ayr stray'd ; With awe-struck thought, and pitying tears, And singing, lone, the ling'ring hours, I view that noble, stately dome ; I shelter in thy honor'd shade. Where Scotia's kings of other years,

II. Fam'd heroes ! had their royal home :

Alas, how chang'd the times to come ! Here Wealth still swells the golden tide, Their name low in the dust ! his labours royal As busy Trade plies ; Their hapless race wild-wand'ring roam ! There Architecture's noble pride Tho' rigid Law cries out, "'twas just!" Bids elegance and splendor rise : Here Justice, from her native skies, VII. wields her balance and her rod High ; There Learning, with his eagle eyes, Wild beats my heart to trace your steps, Seeks Science in her coy abode. Whose ancestors, in days of yore, Thro' hostile ranks and ruin'd gaps III. Old Scotia's bloody lion bore : Thy sons, Edina, social, kind, Ev'n 1 who sing in rustic lore, the hail sires have left their With open arms stranger ; Haply my shed, Their views enlarged, their lib'ral mind, And fac'd grim Danger's loudest roar,

fathers led ! Above the narrow, rural vale : Bold-following where your FIRST EDITIONS.] OF ROBERT BURNS.

VIII. It pat me fidgean-fain to hear't,

An' sae about him there I ; Edina ! Scotia's darling seat ! spier't All hail and tow'rs Then a' that kent him round declar'd, thy palaces ; He had Where once, beneath a Monarch's feet, ingine ; That nane excell'd it, few cam near't, Sat Legislation's sov'reign pow'rs ! It was sae fine. From marking wildly-scatt'red flow'rs, As on the banks of Ayr I stray' d, set him to a of And singing, lone, the ling'ring hours, That, pint ale, An' either douce or I shelter in thy honor'd shade. merry tale, Or rhymes an' sangs he'd made himsel, Or witty catches 'Tween Inverness and Teviotdale, He had few matches. to J.

AN OLD SCOTCH BARD. Then up I gat, an' swoor an aith, Tho' I should pawn my pleugh an' graith, Or die a death, April 1, 1785. cadger pownie's At some dyke-back, WHILE briers an' woodbines budding green, A pint an' gill I'd gie them baith, An' scraichan loud at paitricks e'en, To hear your crack. An' morning poossie whiddan seen, Inspire my Muse, But, first an' foremost, I should tell, This freedom, in an unknown frien', Amaist as soon as I could spell, I excuse. pray I to the fell crambo-jingle ; Tho' rude an' rough On Fasten-e'en we had a rockin, Yet croonin to a body's sel, To ca' the erack and weave our stockin; Does weel eneugh. And there was muckle fun and jokin,

Ye need na doubt ; I nae in a am poet, sense ; At length we had a hearty yokin, But a like ' just rhymer by chance, At sang about.' An' hae to nae learning pretence ; Yet, what the matter ? There was ae sang, amang the rest, Whene'er my Muse does on me glance, Aboon them a' it pleas'd me best, I at her. That some kind husband had addrest jingle

To some sweet wife : Your critic-folk cock their It thirl'd the heart-strings thro' the breast, may nose, " A' to the life. And say, How can you e'er propose, You wha ken hardly verse frae prose, To mak a I've scarce heard ought describ'd sae weel, sang?" bosoms feel But, leaves, learned foes, What gen'rous, manly ; by your my " Ye're Thought I, Can this be Pope, or Steele, maybe wrang. Or Beattie's wark?" They tauld me 'twas an odd kind chiel What's a' your jargon o' your Schools, About Muirkirk. Your Latin names for horns an' stools? R sr

60 LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS.

If honest Nature made you fools, But Mauchline Race or Mauchline Fair, I What sairs your Grammars should be proud to meet you there : Ye'd better taen up spades and shools, We'se gie ae night's discharge to care, If Or knappin-hammers. we forgather ; An' hae a swap o' rhymin-ware A set o' dull, conceited hashes Wi' ane anither.

Confuse their brains in Colledge-classes ! in and come out Tliey gang stirks, asses, The four-gill chap, we'se gar him clatter,

Plain truth to ; speak An' kirsen him wi' reekin water ; An' syne they think to climb Parnassus Syne we'll sit down an' tak our whitter,

dint o' Greek ! By To chear our heart ; An' faith, we'se be acquainted better Gie me ae o' Nature's spark fire, Before we part. a' I desire That's the learning ; Then tho' I thro' dub an' mire drudge Awa ye selfish, warly race, At or pleugh cart, Wha think that havins, sense, an' grace, tho' in My Muse, namely attire, Ev'n love an' friendship should give place touch the heart. May To catch-the-plack ! I dinna like to see your face, for a o' Allan's spunk glee, Nor hear your crack. Or Ferguson's, the bauld an' slee, Or friend to be, bright L[aprai]k's, my But ye whom social pleasure charms,

If I can hit it ! Whose hearts the tide of kindness warms, That would be lear for me, eneugh Who hold your being on the terms, If I could it. " get Each aid the others," Come to my bowl, come to my arms, Now, Sir, if ye hae friends enow, My friends, my brothers ! Tho' real Mends I b'lieve are few ; Yet, if be fow, your catalogue But, to conclude my lang epistle, I'se no insist ; As my aiild pen's worn to the grissle, want ae friend that's true, But, gif ye Twa lines frae you wad gar me fissle, I'm on list. your Who am, most fervent, While I can either sing or whissle, 1 winna blaw about mysel, Your friend and servant. ill I fauts to tell As like my ; 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 they wheedle frae me

At dance or fair : Maybe some ither thing they gie me. They weel can spare. xte-

FIRST EDITIONS.] OF ROBERT BURNS. 07

the Same. Sae I've begun to scrawl, but whether In or or baith rhyme, prose, thegither ; Or some hotch-potch that's rightly neither, 1785. April 21, Let time mak proof; But I shall scribble down some blether WHILE new-ca'd kye rowte at the stake, Just clean aff-loof. An' pownies reek in pleugh or braik, This hour on e'enin's edge I take, To own I'm debtor My worthy friend, ne'er grudge an' carp, To auld Tho' Fortune use hard an' honest-hearted, L[aprai]k, you sharp ; For his kind letter. Come, kittle up your moorland harp

Wi' gleesome touch ! with Ne'er mind how Fortune waft an' Forjesket sair, weary legs, warp ;

Rattlin the corn out-owre the rigs, She's but a b-tch. Or dealing thro' amang the naigs Their ten-hours' bite, She's gien me mony a jirt an' fleg, awkart sair My Muse pleads and begs Sin' I could striddle a owre rig ; I would na write. But, by the L d, tho' I should beg Wi' lyart pow, The tapetless, ramfeezl'd hizzie, I'll laugh an' sing, an' shake my leg,

She's saft at best an' : something lazy As I dow ! " lang's Quo' she, Ye ken we've been sae busy This month an' mair, Now comes the sax-an'-twentieth simmer That trowth, my head is grown right dizzie, I've seen the bud upo' the timmer, An' something sair." Still persecuted by the limmer Frae to Her dowff excuses year year ; pat me mad ; " " But yet, despite the kittle kimmer, Conscience," says I, ye thowless jad ! I, Rob, am here. I'll write, an' that a hearty blaud, This vera night ; Do the city gent, So dinna ye affront your trade, ye envy Behint a kist to lie an' sklent; But rhyme it right. Or purse-proud, big wi' cent per cent " An' muckle Shall bauld L[aprai]k, the king o' hearts, wame, In some bit to Tho' mankind were a pack o' cartes, Brugh represent A Bailie's name ? Roose you sae weel for your deserts, In terms sae friendly ; Yet ye'll neglect to shaw your parts Or is't the paughty, feudal Thane, " An' thank him kindly ? Wi' rum'd sark an' glancin cane, Wha thinks himsel nae sheep-shank bane, Sae I in a But stalks gat paper blink, lordly ; An' down gaed stumpie in the ink : While caps and bonnets aff are taen, " Quoth I, Before I sleep a wink, As by he walks ?

I I'll vow close it ;

An' if winna mak it " ye clink, Thou wha gies us each guid gift ! " I'll it ! By Jove, prose Gie me o' wit an' sense a lift, [POETICAL WORKS.

turn if Then me, Thou please, adrift, tt, (Dchiltrec.

Thro' Scotland wide ;

Wi' cits nor lairds I wadna shift, " In a' their ! pride May 1785.

I GAT letter, winsome Willie; Were this the charter of our state, your Wi' heart I thank brawlie " gratefu' you ; On pain o' hell be rich an' great," Tho' I maun say't, I wad be Damnation then would be our fate, silly, remead An' unco vain, Beyond ; Should I believe, coaxin billie, But, thanks to Heav'n, that's no the gate my Your flatterin strain. We learn our creed.

But I'se believe ye kindly meant it : For thus the royal Mandate ran, I sud be laith to think hinted first the human race ye When began ; " Ironic satire, sidelins sklented The social, friendly, honest man, On Musie Whate'er he be my poor ; in Tho' sic phraisin terms ye've penn'd it, 'Tis he fulfils great Nature's plan, I scarce excuse And none but he." ye.

My senses wad be in a creel, Mandate and divine ! glorious ' Should I but dare a hope to speel, The followers o' the ragged Nine, Wi' Allan, or wi' Gilbertfield, Poor, thoughtless devils ! yet may shine The braes o' fame ; In glorious light, Or Ferguson, the writer-chiel, While sordid sons o' Mammon's line A deathless name. Are dark as night !

(0 Ferguson ! thy glorious parts Tho' here they scrape, an' squeeze, an' growl, 111 suited law's dry, arts ! Their worthless nievefu' of a soul musty My curse upon your whunstane hearts, May in some future carcase howl, Ye Enbrugh Gentry ! The forest's fright ; The tythe o' what ye waste at cartes Or in some day-detesting owl his Wad stow'd pantry !) May shun the light.

Yet when a tale comes i' my head, Then may L[aprai]k and B[urns] arise, Or lasses gie my heart a screed To reach their native, kindred skies, As whiles they're like to be my dead, And sing their pleasures, hopes an' joys, (0 sad disease!) In some mild ; sphere I kittle rustic reed up my ; Still closer knit in friendship's ties, It gies me ease. Each passing year !

Auld Coila, now, may fidge fu' fain, o' ain She's gotten Bardies her ; Chiels wha their chanters winna hain, S^o But tune their lays, Till echoes a' resound again Her weel-smig praise.

V: BURNS. FIRST EDITIONS.] OF ROBERT

Nae poet thought her worth his while, Or frosts on hills of Ochiltree Are To set her name in measur'd style ; hoary gray ; She lay like some unkend-of isle Or blinding drifts wild-furious flee, Beside New Holland, Dark'ning the day! Or whare wild-meeting oceans boil

Besouth Magellan. Nature ! a' thy shews an' forms

To feeling, pensive hearts hae charms ! Whether the Summer warms, Ramsay an' famous Ferguson kindly Wi' life an' lift aboon light; Gied Forth an' Tay a ; Or Winter howls, in gusty storms, Yarrow an' Tweed, to monie a tune, The lang, dark night ! wre Scotland rings ; While Irwin, Lugar, Ayr, an' Doon, The Muse, iiae poet ever fand her, Naebody sings. Till by himsel he learn'd to wander, Adown some trottin burn's meander, Th' Illissus, Tiber, Thames, an' Seine, An' no think lang : Glide sweet in monie a tunefu' line : sweet to stray, an' pensive ponder But, Willie, set your fit to mine, A heart-felt sang! crest An' cock your ; We'll gar our streams an' burnies shine The warly race may drudge an' drive, wi' the best. Up an' strive Hog-shouther, jundie, stretch, ; Let me fair Nature's face descrive,

We'll sing auld Coila's plains an' fells, And I, wi' pleasure, Her moors red-brown wi' heather bells, Shall let the busy, grumbling hive Her banks an' braes, her dens an' dells, Bum owre their treasure. Whare glorious Wallace " " Aft bure the gree, as story tells, Fareweel, my rhyme-composing brither ! billies. Frae Suthron We've been owre lang unkenn'd to ither : Now let us lay our heads thegither,

In love fraternal : At Wallace' name, what Scottish blood in a tether, But boils up in a spring-tide flood ! May Envy wallop

Black infernal ! Oft have our fearless fathers strode fiend, By Wallace' side,

While hate tolls an' taxes ; Still pressing onward, red-wat-shod, Highlaiidmen

While moorlan herds like fat braxies ; Or glorious dy'd ! guid, While Terra Firm a, on her axis, Diurnal turns sweet are Coila's haughs an' woods, ; Count on a friend, in faith an' practice, When lintwhites chant amang the buds, In Robert Burns. And jinkin hares, in amorous whids, Their loves enjoy ; While thro' the braes the cushat croods

With wailfu' cry !

Ev'n winter bleak has charms to me,

When winds rave thro' the naked tree ; : %&:r^g<^

70 LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS.

Should think they better were inform'd, Than their auld daddies.

Frae less to it to sticks mair, gaed ; Frae an' to words aiths, clours an' nicks ; MY no worth a memory's preen ; An' monie a fallow gat his licks, I had amaist clean, Wi' crunt forgotten hearty ; Ye bad me write what mean you they An' some, to learn them for their tricks, ' By this New-light,' Were hang'd an' brunt. 'Bout which our herds sae aft hae been Maist like to fight. This game was play'd in monie lands, An' auld-light cadies bure sic hands, In days when mankind were but callans That faith, the youngsters took the sands Wi' nimble shanks At Grammar, Logic, an' sic talents, ; They took nae pains their speech to balance, Till Lairds forbad, by strict commands, Or rules to Sic gie ; bluidy pranks. But spak their thoughts in plain, braid Lallans, Like you or me. But new-light herds gat sic a cowe, ruin'd stick-an-stowe Folk thought them ; Till amaist on knowe In thae auld times, they thought the Moon, now, ev'ry Ye'll find ane Just like a sark, or pair o' shoon, plac'd ; An' their fair Woor by degrees, till her last roon some, new-light avow, their viewin Just barefac'd. Gaed past ; quite An' shortly after she was done a new ane. the flocks are bleatnn They gat Nae doubt auld-light ;

Their zealous herds are vex'd an' sweatan ;

for I've even seen them This past certain, undisputed ; Mysel, greetaii Wi' It ne'er cam i' their heads to doubt it, girnari spite, To hear the Moon sae He'd on Till chiels gat up an' wad confute it, sadly ca'd it word an' write. An' wrang ; By

An' muckle din there was about it,

Baith loud an' lang. But shortly they will cowe the louns ! Some auld-light herds in neebor touns in ca' Some herds, weel learn'd upo' the beuk, Are mind't, things they balloons,

auld folk the misteuk To tak a flight ; Wad threap thing ; For 'twas the auld moon turn'd a neuk An' stay ae month amang the moons An' see them An' out o' sight, right. An' backlins-comin, to the leuk, She mair will grew bright. Guid observation they gie them ; An' when the auld moon's gaim to lea'e them, hindmost fetch it wi' them. This was deny'd, it was affirm'd; The shaird, they'll

Just i' their ; The herds an' hissels Avere alarm'd ; pouch the billies see them, The rev'rend gray-beards rav'd an' storm'd, An' when neAV-light That beardless laddies I think they'll crouch ! FIRST EDITIONS.] OF EGBERT BURNS. 71

Sae, ye observe that a' tins clatter Sae, when ye hae an hour to spare,

r Is naething but a "moonsliiiie matter;" I w ill expect, But tho' dull prose-folk Latin splatter Yon sang ye'll sen't, wi' cannie care, In logic tulzie, And no neglect. I hope we Bardies ken some better, Than mind sic brulzie, Tho' faith, sma' heart hae I toeing !

My Muse dow scarcely spread her wing : I've play'd mysel a bonie spring,

An' danc'd my fill ! I'd better gaen an' sair't the king, (Epistle to J. At Bunker's Hill.

ENCLOSING SOME POEMS. 'Twas ae night lately, in my fun, I gaed a rovin wi' the gun, An' brought a paitrick to the grun', A bonie hen ROUGH, rude, ready-witted R[ankiii], ; And, as the was The wale o' cocks for fun an' drinkin ! twilight begun, nane wad ken. There's mony godly folks are thinkin, Thought Your dreams an' tricks wee little The poor, thing was hurt ; Will send you, Korah-like, a-sinkin, I straiket it a wee for sport, Straught to auld Nick's. Ne'er thinkan fash for't they wad me ;

But, Deil-ma-care ! Ye hae sae mony cracks an' cants, Somebody tells the poacher-court And in your wicked, drukkeu rants, The hale affair. Ye mak a devil o' the saunts,

fill An' them fou ; Some auld, us'd hands had taen a note, And then their flaws, an' failings, wants, That sic a hen had a shot got ; Are a' seen thro'. I was for the suspected plot ;

I scorn'd to lie ; Hypocrisy, in mercy spare it ! So gat the whissle o' my groat, That holy robe, dinna tear it ! An' pay't the fee. Spare't for their sakes, wha aften wear it, The lads in black ; But, by my gun, o' guns the wale, But curst when it comes near your wit, it, An' by my p outlier an' my hail, Rives't aff their back. An' by my hen, an' by her tail,

I vow an' swear ! wicked Sinner, wha. ve're skai ~ Think, ' thing The game shall pay, owre moor an' dail. It's the an' clai just 'Blue-gown' badge thing For this, niest year. 0' saunts; tak that, ye lea'e them naething

' To ken them by, As soon's the clockin-time is by,

Frae ony unregenerate heathen, An' the wee pouts begun to cry, Like you or I. L d, I'se hae sportin by an' by, For my gowd guinea ; I've sent you here some rhymin ware, Tho' I should herd the buckskin kye

A' that I an' mair ! bargain'd for, ; For't, in Virginia LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS.

Trowth, they had muckle for to blame ! V. 'Twas neither broken nor limb, wing The sober Autumn enter'd mild, But twa-three draps about the wame, When he and grew wan pale ; thro' feathers Scarce the ; His bending joints and drooping head ' ' An' baith a yellow to claim, George Show'd he began to fail. An' thole their blethers !

It me as mad's a hare VI. pits ay ; So I can nor mair His colour sicken'd rhyme write nae ; more and more, is He faded into But pennyworths again fair, age ;

When time's expedient : And then his enemies began Meanwhile I am, respected Sir, To show their deadly rage. Your most obedient.

VII.

They've taen a weapon, long and sharp, And cut him the by knee ; Then ty'd him fast upon a cart, A BALLAD. Like a rogue for forgerie.

VIII.

I. They laid him down upon his back, And him full sore THERE was three kings into the east, cudgell'd ; Three kings both great and high, They hung him up before the storm, And they hae sworn a solemn oath And turn'd him o'er and o'er. John Barleycorn should die. IX. II. They filled up a darksome pit took a and him They plough plough'd down, With water to the brim, Put clods his head, upon They heaved in John Barleycorn And hae sworn a solemn oath they There, let him sink or swim. John Barleycorn was dead.

X. III.

They laid him out upon the floor, But the chearful Spring came kindly on, To work him farther woe show'rs to fall ; And began ; And still, as signs of life appear'd, John Barleycorn got up again, They toss'd him to and fro. And sore surpris'd them all.

IV. XI.

The sultry suns of Summer came, They wasted, o'er a scorching flame, And he thick and of his grew strong ; The marrow bones ; weel arm'd wi' His head pointed spears, But a miller us'd him worst of all, That no one should him wrong. For he crush'd him between two stones. FIRST EDITIONS.] OF ROBERT BURNS.

XII. II.

And they hae taen his very heart's blood, Then thro' the lakes Montgomery takes, drank it round and round I wat he was na man And ; slaw, ; And still the more and more they drank, Down Lowrie's burn he took a turn,

Their joy did more abound. And Carleton did ca', man : But yet, whatreck, he, at Quebec,

XIII. Montgomery-like did fa', man, Wi' sword in before his band, John Barleycorn was a hero bold, hand, noble Amang his en'mies a', man. Of enterprise ; For if you do but taste his blood, III. 'Twill make your courage rise. Poor Tammy Gage within a cage Was at man XIV. kept Boston-ha', ; Till Willie Howe took o'er the knowe 'Twill a his make man forget woe ; For Philadelphia, man ; 'Twill heighten all his joy : Wi' sword an' gun he thought a sin 'Twill make the widow's heart to sing, Guid Christian bluid to draw, man ; Tho' the tear were in her eye. But at New-York, wi' knife an' fork, Sir Loin he hacked man. XV. sma',

Then let us toast John Barleycorn, IV. Each man a in hand glass ; Burgoyne gaed up, like spur an' whip, And may his great posterity Till Fraser brave did fa', man ;

Ne'er fail in old Scotland ! Then lost his way, ae misty day, In Saratoga shaw, man. 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.

& Jragment V.

Then Montague, an' Guilford too, Tune ' ' Gillicrankie." fear Began to a fa', man ; And Sackville doure, wha stood the stoure,

The German Chief to thraw, man : For Paddy Burke, like ony Turk, I. had at man Nae mercy a', ; WHEN Guilford good our pilot stood, An' Charlie Fox threw by the box, An' did our hellim man thraw, ; An' lows'd his tinkler jaw, man. Ae night, at tea, began a plea, VI. Within America, man: Then the up they gat maskin-pat, Then Rockingham took up the game ; in the sea did And jaw, man ; Till Death did on him ca', man ; An' did nae less, in full Congress, When Shelburne meek held up his cheek, Than quite refuse our law, man. Conform to Gospel law, man : LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL

Saint Stephen's boys, wi' jarring noise, did his measures man " They thraw, ; Tune Corn Eigs are Bonic." For North an' Fox united stocks, An' bore him to the wa', man. I. IT was a Lammas VII. upon night, When corn rigs are bonie, Then Clubs an' Hearts were Charlie's cartes, Beneath the moon's unclouded light, He swept the stakes awa', man, I held awa to Annie : Till the Diamond's Ace, of Indian race, The time flew by, wi' tentless heed ; Led him a sair faux pas, man : Till, 'tween the late and early, The Saxon lads, wi' loud placads, Wi' sma' persuasion she agreed did man On Chatham's Boy ca', ; To see me thro' the barley. An' Scotland drew her pipe an' blew, " " II. Up, Willie, waur them a', man ! The sky was blue, the wind was still, VIII. The moon was shining clearly; I set her wi' Behind the throne then Granville's gone, down, right good will, the rigs o' barley : A secret word or twa, man ; Amang I ken't her heart was a' ain While slee Dundas arous'd the class my ; I lov'd her most Be-north the Roman wa', man : sincerely; I kiss'd her owre and owre An' Chatham's wraith, in heav'nly graith again, the o' (Inspired Bardies saw, man), Amang rigs barley. " Wi' kindling eyes, cry'd, Willie, rise ! HI. " Would I hae fear'd them a', man ? I her in fond embrace lock'd my ; Her heart was beating rarely : IX. My blessings on that happy place, But, word an' blow, North, Fox, and Co. Amang the rigs o' barley ! Willie like a man the and stars so GowfPd ba', ; But by moon bright, Till Suthron raise, an' coost then" claise That shone that hour so clearly ! Behind him in a raw, man : She ay shall bless that happy night An' Caledon threw by the drone, Amang the rigs o' barley.

An' did her whittle man ; draw, IV. An' swoor fu' rude, thro' dirt an' bluid, I the wi' dear hae been bly comrades ; To mak it guid in law, man. 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. CHORUS.

Corn rigs, an' barley rigs,

An' corn rigs are bonie : I'll ne'er forget that nappy night, Amang the rigs wi' Annie. FIRST EDITIONS.] OF ROBERT BURNS.

V.

We'll and talk, COMPOSED IN AUGUST. gently walk, sweetly Till silent the moon shine clearly ; " Tune I had a Horse, I had nae mair." I'll grasp thy waist, and, fondly prest,

Swear how I love thee dearly : Not vernal show'rs to budding flow'rs, I. Not Autumn to the farmer, Now westlin and winds, slaught'ring guns So dear can be, as thou to me, Autumn's weather Bring pleasant ; My fair, my lovely charmer ! The moorcock springs on whirring wings,

Amang the blooming heather : Now waving grain, wide o'er the plain, the farmer Delights weary ; And the moon shines bright, when I rove at night, Tune "My Name, O." To muse upon my charmer.

II. I.

loves the fruitful fells BEHIND hills where Stinchar The partridge ; yon flows, The loves the moors an' mosses plover mountains ; 'Mang many, 0, dells The sun the has The woodcock haunts the lonely ; wintry day clos'd, I'll to 0. The soaring hern the fountains : And awa Nanie, Thro' lofty groves the cushat roves, II. of to it The path man shun ; The westlin wind blaws loud an' shill The hazel bush o'erhangs the thrush, ; The baith mirk and The spreading thorn the linnet. night's rainy, ; But I'll get my plaid an' out I'll steal, III. An' owre the hill to Nanie, 0.

Thus ev'ry kind their pleasure find, III. The savage and the tender ; Nanie's an' Some social join, and leagues combine ; My charming, sweet, young ;

: artfu' wiles to win : Some solitary wander Nae ye, ill befa' Avaunt, away, the cruel sway ! May the flattering tongue man's dominion That wad 0. Tyrannic ; beguile my Nanie, The sportman's joy, the murd'ring cry, IV. The flutt'ring, gory pinion ! is Her face is fair, her heart true ; IV. as she's As spotless bonie, ; But, Peggy dear, the ev'ning's clear, The op'ning gowan, wat wi' dew, swallow Nae is than 0. Thick flies the skimming ; purer Nanie, The sky is blue, the fields in view, V. All fading-green and yellow : Come let us stray our gladsome way, A country lad is my degree,

And view the charms of Nature ; An' few there be that ken me, ;

The rustling corn, the fruited thorn, But what care I how few they be, And ev'ry happy creature. I'm welcome ay to Nanie, 0. LIFE AND AVORKS [POETICAL WORKS.

VI. III.

My riches a's my penny-fee, But gie me a canny hour at e'en, An' I it arms about maun guide cannie, ; My my dearie, ; But warl's gear ne'er troubles me, An' warly cares, an' warly men, a' My thoughts are a' my Nanie, 0. May gae tapsalteerie, ! Green grow, &c. VII. IV. Our auld guidman delights to view

His an' thrive For sae sneer at this ; sheep kye bonie, ; you douce, ye

Ye're but senseless : But I'm as blythe that hauds his pleugh, nought asses, wisest An' has nae care but Nanie, 0. The man the warF saw, He dearly lo'ed the lasses, 0. YIIL Green grow, &c.

Come weel, come woe, I care na by; V. I'll tak what Heav'n will sen' me, : Auld Nature the dears Nae ither care in life hae I, swears, lovely

Her noblest work she : But live, an' love my Nanie, 0. classes, Her 'prentice han' she try'd on man, An' then she made the lasses, 0. Green grow, &c.

A FRAGMENT.

Tune "Jockey's Gray Breeks."

CHORUS.

the I. Green grow rashes, ; the Green grow rashes, ; AGAIN rejoicing Nature sees The sweetest hours that e'er I spend, Her robe assume its vernal hues : Are spent amang the lasses, O. Her leafy locks wave in the breeze, All freshly steep'd in morning dews.

THERE'S nought but care on ev'ry ban', CHORUS. In ev'ry hour that passes, : And maun I still on Menie doat, What signifies the life o' man, And bear the scorn that's in her e'e ? An' 'twere na for the lasses, 0. For it's jet, jet black, an' it's like a hawk,

Green grow, &c. And it winna let a body be !

II. II.

The warly race may riches chase, In vain to me the cowslips blaw,

riches still In vain to me the vi'lets ; An' may fly them, ; spring to in or An' tho' at last they catch them fast, In vain me, glen shaw, Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, 0. The mavis and the lintwhite sing. Green grow, &c. And maun I still, &c. FIRST EDITIONS.] OF ROBERT BURNS.

III.

The cheers his team, merry ploughboy Tune "Roslin Castle." tentie stalks Wi' joy the seedsman ; But life to me's a weary dream, A dream of ane that never wauks. I.

And maun I still, &c. THE gloomy night is gath'ring fast, Loud roars the inconstant blast IV. wild, ; Yon murky cloud is foul with rain, The wanton coot the water skims, I see it driving o'er the plain : Amang the reeds the ducklings cry, The hunter now has left the moor, The stately swan majestic swims, scatt'red secure The coveys meet ; And ev'ry thing is blest but I. While here I wander, prest with care, And maun I still, &c. Along the lonely banks of Ayr. V. II. The sheep-herd steeks his faulding slap, The Autumn mourns her rip'ning corn And owre the moorlands whistles shill ; torn By early Winter's ravage ; Wi' wild, unequal, wand'ring step, Across her placid, azure sky, I meet him on the dewy hill. She sees the scowling tempest fly : And maun I still, &c. Chill runs blood to hear it rave my ; VI. I think upon the stormy wave, Where many a danger I must dare, And when the lark, 'tween light and dark, Far from the bonie banks of Ayr. Blythe waukens by the daisy's side, mounts and on And sings flittering wings, III. A woe-worn ghaist I hameward glide. 'Tis not the surging billow's roar, And maun I still, &c. 'Tis not that fatal, deadly shore ; VII. Tho' death in ev'ry shape appear,

The wretched have no more to fear : Come Winter, with thine angry howl, But round my heart the ties are bound, And bend the naked tree ; raging That heart with a transpierc'd many wound ; Thy gloom will soothe my chearless soul, These bleed afresh, those ties I tear, When Nature all is sad like me ! To leave the bonie banks of Ayr.

And maun I still on Menie doat, IV. J And bear the scorn that's in her e'e ! it's a For it's jet, jet black, an' like hawk, Farewell, old Coila's hills and dales,

it winna let a be ! And body Her moors and vales heathy winding ; The scenes where wretched Fancy roves,

Pursuing past, unhappy loves !

Farewell, my friends ! farewell, my foes ! My peace with these, my love with those : The bursting tears my heart declare

Farewell, the bonie banks of Avr ! LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS.

II.

" Oft have I met your social Band, Tune Gilderoy." And spent the chearful, festive night : Oft, honour'd with supreme command,

Presided o'er the Sons of : I. light And by that Hieroglyphic bright, FROM thee, Eliza, I must go, Which none but Craftsmen ever saw ! And from my native shore : Strong Mem'ry on my heart shall write The cruel fates between us throw Those happy scenes, when far awa I A boundless ocean's roar :

But boundless oceans, roaring wide, III. Between my love and me May Freedom, Harmony, and Love, They never, never can divide Unite you in the grand Design, My heart and soul from thee. Beneath th' Omniscient Eye above,

The Architect Divine ! II. glorious That you may keep th' unerring line, Farewell, farewell, Eliza dear, Still rising by the plummet's law, The maid that I adore I Till Order bright completely shine, A boding voice is in mine ear, Shall be my Pray'r when far awa. We part to meet no more ! But the latest throb that leaves my heart, IV. While Death stands victor by And You, farewell ! whose merits claim That throb, Eliza, is thy part, Justly that highest badge to wear : And thine that latest sigh ! 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, JaretodL To him, the Bard that's far awa.

TO THE BRETHREN OF ST. JAMES'S LODGE, TARBOLTON.

" Tune Goodnight, and Joy be wi' you a'."

" Tune Prepare, my dear Brethren, to the Tavern

let's fly," &c.

ADIEU ! a heart-warm, fond adieu !

Dear brothers of the mystic tye !

* Ye favored, enlighten'd' Few, I. Companions of my social joy ! Tho' I to foreign lands must hie, No churchman am I for to rail and to write, Fortune's ba' nor soldier to or to Pursuing slidd'ry ; No statesman plot fight, With melting heart and brimful eye, No sly man of business contriving a snare, I'll mind you still, tho' far awa. For a big-belly'd bottle's the whole of my care. FIRST EDITIONS.] OF ROBERT BURNS.

II. (Epitaph*.

I I him his bow The peer don't envy, give ; tho' ever so low I scorn not the peasant, ; But a club of good fellows, like those that are there, ON A CELEBEATED RULING ELDEE. And a bottle like this, are my glory and care.

HERE Sowter [Hood] in death does sleep : III. To H-ll if he's gane thither the on his brother his horse to Here passes squire ; Satan, gie him thy gear keep ; the cit with his There centum per centum, purse ; He'll haud it weel thegither. But see you the Crown how it waves in the air 1 There a big-belly'd bottle still eases my care.

IV. POLEMIC. The wife of alas ! she did die ON A NOISY my bosom, ; I For sweet consolation to church did fly ; BELOW thir stanes lie Jamie's banes ; I found that old Solomon proved it fair, Death, it's my opinion, That a bottle's a cure for all care. big-belly'd Thou ne'er took such a bleth'rin b-tch

Into dark dominion ! V. thy

I a once was persuaded 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. ON WEE JOHNIE.

VI. Hicjacet wee Johnie. " Life's cares they are comforts" a maxim laid down WHOE'ER thou art, reader, know, By the Bard, what d'ye call him? that wore the black That Death has murder'd Johnie 1 gown; An' here his body lies fu' low I th' old to a hair saul he ne'er And faith agree with prig ; For had ony. 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, for to FOE THE AUTHOE'S FATHER And honours masonic prepare throw ; May ev'ry true Brother of the Compass and Square YE whose cheek the tear of pity stains, Have a big-belly'd bottle when pressed with care. Draw near with pious rev'rence, and attend ! Here lie the loving husband's dear remains, The tender father, and the gen'rous friend. felt for The pitying heart that 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." LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS.

FOE E. A., ESQ. Is there a Bard of rustic song, Who, noteless, steals the crowds among, KNOW thou, stranger to the fame That weekly this area throng? Of this much lov'd, much honour'd name ! 0, pass not by ! (For none that knew him need be told) But, with a frater-feeling strong, A warmer heart Death ne'er made cold. 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, FOE G. H., ESQ. Wild as the wave ? Here and, thro' the THE poor man weeps here G[avi]n sleeps, pause starting tear, wretches blam'd Survey this grave. Whom canting ; But with such as he, where'er he be, The Inhabitant below May I be sav'd or d d ! poor 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 ! A BAED'S EPITAPH. his name

Is there a whim-inspired fool, Reader, attend ! Whether thy soul for Owre fast for thought, owre hot rule, Soars fancy's flights beyond the pole, Owre blate to seek, owre proud to snool ? Or darkling grubs this earthly hole, Let him draw In low near; pursuit ; And owre this grassy heap sing dool, Know, prudent, cautious, self-controul And drap a tear. Is Wisdom's root. x?@m

THE

EDITOE TO THE BEADEE AND STUDENT

01' THE TEXT.

BEFORE proceeding to the Annotations required for the cor- literary point of view, the general reader can have but a very rection and elucidation of our Author's Text, a word of expla- slight conception. So great indeed does the difficulty attend- nation is due to the reader, and especially to the student or ing this apparently simple process seem to be, that the best critic of the Text itself : and as two extremely opposite views editions, so far as we are aware, from Currie's time to our own, of editorial authority in general are sometimes advocated, it can make very slight pretensions to absolute reliability or may be necessary in the first place to distinguish these. By perfection in such, or even far more important details. one school, the mere mechanical reproduction of an author's We propose hereafter, in Appendix, to discuss this topic text, irregularities, almost incongruities themselves included, fully, in our remarks upon the language of Burns : but for is insisted upon : by another, not only the revision of the the present, a brief summary of the obstacles to a perfectly letter : that of the text, to correct and regulate it, but the right of accurate text may be given (1) There can be no doubt altering or improving the text itself, by the change, the sup- Burns's own manuscript copies frequently varied; (2) That or the substitution of entire his text did not to his pression, terms and even phrases always perhaps correspond manuscript ; at the editor's discretion, has been claimed, and in the highest (3) That in>the text itself numerous capricious variations from instances, from Bishop Percy downwards, has been acted his own standard of orthography, sometimes on the same page, upon. From both of these extreme views, we equally dissent. sometimes in the same poem, sometimes even in the same

On the one hand, we maintain that a careful and conscientious verse, occur; (4) That there are occasional slight variations revision of the letter is to between his text and his and in indispensable, remedy oversights own own vocabulary ; (5) and errors, whether of the press or of the pen, that the Author addition to all these, many manifest typographical blunders may appear as perfect in his own style as possible; but on appear. In such circumstances, to produce anything like a fair the other hand, all interference beyond this, by alteration and true un iform edition of his original text, the utmost editorial of the text itself where clearly defined, we as conscientiously diligence is required, and some editorial discretion also must disapprove of. With respect to Robert Burns, it has been be permitted. To reproduce mere incongruities or errors alleged that both sorts of editorship are equally required cannot be desirable; yet from the Author's letter to Lord and they have certainly both been applied since his death Woodhouselee, December, 1795, recently published, it is now with unlimited freedom : but to the revision of the letter alone evident how often this may have been the case. If that letter we most scrupulously confine ourselves, believing that neither indeed refers to the Edition of 1794, or the prospective reprint literary, nor moral, nor religious good will ever accrue from of 1797, it is sufficiently plain that the Author himself, from further intermeddling with the original. indifference or painful pre-occupation, had scarcely ever looked In the preceding pages, the reader will find that there are at the text : a fact which explains many things hitherto two distinct intermingled varieties of style and orthography inexplicable. To neither of Burns's original editions was any before him that which characterised table of Errata much in the Kilmarnock, and attached, although required both ; in that which was introduced in the Edinburgh Edition both by consequence of which, the existing errors, in sense or in the Author himself. To present Robert Burns as he was at orthography, had to be rectified by the reader at discretion, * the earliest a be or remain as were. But to his were very date, reprint would indispensable ; which they prefixed glossaries for various reasons could not with propriety be attempted certain very definite instructions, both as to the pronunciation * here. The utmost, therefore, on which we could venture, Some of the misprints, attributable to this source alone, which deface the earlier editions of his and have been in was as close a as of the works, unconsciously reproduced later reproduction possible original forms ; editions of these, or in his glossaries, are almost incredible. As for errors in and of the extreme difficulty and delicacy of this, in a mere punctuation, they are beyond number. LIFE AND WORKS [EDITOR TO READER.

and the spelling of his words, which to a certain extent This we have endeavoured, on the principles above explained, the in These instructions have to do and our readers for supplied deficiency question. ; will easily distinguish themselves already been quoted for the reader's information, and prefixed the poems so characterised, as they successively fall under to the text of his Poems. In revising the text, therefore, two their notice. This rule, it must be observed, refers exclusively of are available either to the mere means attaining comparative accuracy ; spelling of certain forms, and chiefly terminational

and of or in the : diligent conscientious comparison words themselves ; forms, oldest poems not the slightest infringement where their actual form seems doubtful, then strict adherence on words themselves, far less on phraseology, being either to the Author's concluding directions. By both these means thought of, or consciously tolerated by us. As an example, the Editor has done his best not only to correct the errors, but, the following illustration at present may suffice : Among

in a few isolated instances, to restore the orthography : and so terminational forms, in the Kilmarnock Edition, ing, in, to present, as far as possible, a kind of uniformity in the text. and an occur promiscuously, in many cases inconsistently. His object, in addition to this, has been to present a character- Of these, in accordance with the principles already indi- istic and progressive edition to the reader; in which the cated, an has been preserved wherever it appears, and in Author's own style from the first, and in its natural develop- two solitary instances restored, according to the Author's ment or change, from epoch to epoch, may be recognised and rule, where the context seemed to require it. Of the remain- discriminated. In most recent editions, this seems not to have ing forms, in, as being the simplest, most natural, and been thought of. The Author's works themselves have with almost invariable, has been preferred in all Scotch terms or or less in of of course retained in more propriety been arranged the order their compounds ; ing being every English in cases care or in cases the intended to be production, some with exemplary ; but not word, where g was manifestly always as they originally appeared under his own hand, heard against the succeeding letter; whilst in', as being either in order or in orthography. The words have almost absolutely false, has been entirely rejected.* By this simple invariably been 'dressed' anew on the latest model which process of revision, in strict compliance with the Author's own borders most closely on the English; and so Burns from example and authority, something like regularity among the the beginning appears to speak and write under the super- most capricious forms of the language has been attained; vision of Dr. Blair, or the editorial corrections of George without infringing in any degree on the meaning of a single Thomson an idea which is absolutely inconsistent both with word from beginning to end. Where various readings in the nature and with fact. original do occur, we have selected those which, in our humble It may be objected, however, that since these precautions judgment, seemed the best or truest our reasons for selection for mere literal accuracy are applicable chiefly to the earliest being generally very fully appended in the following Notes : edition, and not even to every poem contained in it, so much and that both the text may appear with as little encumbrance anxiety in the way of revision is practically uncalled for, and as possible, and the reader may have the easiest method the few variations or discrepancies which undoubtedly exist, of satisfying himself, all the most important variations made should be quietly adjusted, or passed over in silence, as if they by the Author in his own editions, up till his death, will were not there but on the other hand it be in their ; must remembered, be found arranged proper order, as to time and that in the earliest edition, and in the poems by which it is place, on a distinct page uniform with the text, at the end of we have the last illustration of the Part II. of the Poems all that characterised, grand origi- ; remains beyond that being nal Scottish tongue, and in Bums himself the grand vital link necessarily untouched by him. between the old and the new forms of that if language ; and attach to this it * we any importance fact, becomes our duty It may satisfy the reader's curiosity, m the meantime, to mention, that this form of so common in modern editions of the occurs then to be as solicitous as possible to preserve every fragment particular in\ Poet, only once in the Kilmarriock and Edinburgh Editions, and manifestly hy an error in that that remains of his articulation. original special case; whereas in occurs in the Kilmamock Edition one hundred and As for the mode in which this should be done, there can be eleven times, and in the Edinburgh Edition no fewer than two hundred and twelve times and that, by no means always in the same words a fact which should be no reasonable doubt the simplest and most natural method conclusive on the The truth in is a Scottish form in' a. subject. is, purely ; to being, reproduce such forms where they originally appear. mere typographical corruption from the English language.

*i)

:

NOTE S, CRITICAL AND HISTORICAL,

TO FIRST EDITIONS.

ABBREVIATIONS : c. s. I. p. PAGE ; COLUMN ; STANZA ; LINE.

IN of BURNS edition presenting a revised edition of the Works ROBERT consisted of six hundred and twelve copies, it appears. to the we have without for the at three each three world, adopted, hesitation, shillings ; hundred and fifty were subscribed text of this division, the Poet's own authorised editions, first for, and the remainder disposed of within a few weeks. The of Kilmarnock and then of and where entire sale realised for the Author about At Edinburgh ; they differ, twenty pounds. have carefully collated them. Such collation, of course, could the present moment, a perfect copy, in good condition, may extend only as far as their contents -correspond, but to that be valued, without extravagance, at five guineas. extent it has been interesting and instructive. The Kilmar- The TITLE PAGE stood as follows, with motto doubtless

nock Edition, printed in 1786, contains forty-four pieces; is in from the Author's own hand : the simplest and broadest vernacular, and although disfigured by a few unmistakeable typographical inaccuracies, is incom- F O E M S, parably the finest groundwork for a characteristic edition of CHIEFLY IN THE the great Poet. So far as it goes, with the above exceptions, SCOTTISH DIALECT, it has been almost literally adhered to. The Edinburgh T)Y under Burns's own Edition, by Creech, 1787, superintendence, ROBERT BURNS. contains sixty-three pieces, and presents, besides a few com- mendable alterations in the text, a very extensive revision of orthography. This revision, suggested undoubtedly by THE Simple Bard, uubroke by rules of Art, or critics in the was acceded to publishers metropolis, by He pours the wild effusions of the heart : And if 'tis Nature's Burns in an evil hour, as we think, for the originality and inspir'd, pow'rs inspire ; Her's all the melting thrill, and her's the kindling fire. said to the grandeur of his mother tongue. It may be mark ANONYMOUS. middle era of his authorship : but in the songs and poems which have been recovered since his death, and which were KILMARNOCK: written before his visit to the capital, the grand old simplicity PRINTED BY JOHN WILSO.V. of the native dialect may^-e-appear again to refresh us. This M,DCC,LXXXVI. question of orthography is a curious one in the history, both literary and social, of Eobert Burns. By the mere spelling The PREFACE, which we print in this edition precisely as it of a word he is transported from epoch to epoch; and the appears in the original, has been somewhat vulgarised by reader sees distinctly the transition of his mind, as in a misquotation elsewhere. In a composition like this, which is phonetic gauge, backwards and forwards, by the choice and just balanced on the difficult edge between dignity and the of a collocation of the mere letters as they run. It extends indeed want of it, and in which the youthful hand great master beyond himself to the language of his country, as we have is adjusting itself for work, the misplacing of a single comma, already hinted, and must be more fully treated of hereafter. much more the unwarrantable introduction of a word at the fatal to its credit with the world. Such BJLMARNOCK EDITION : This most wonderful venture in wrong place, may be the annals of literature contained a title page with motto, a liberties, nevertheless, we observe, have been taken in the preface, a table of contents, two hundred and twenty-seven reprint, so early as the days of Currie (who quoted from pages of poetry, and a glossary. It was printed on good strong Gilbert Burns, who transcribed from memory apparently,

: the effect of which corded paper, demy octavo, by John Wilson "Wee Johnie" and without consulting the original) in The and was issued to the world in coarse blue wrappers. The has been to debase this Preface considerably style. LIFE AND WORKS [NOTES CRITICAL

University reader will of course detect an oversight in long and unpleasant discussion that a settlement could bo orthography, and the grammarian a slight misconstruction obtained with Mr. Creech at all. The profits ultimately ac- in syntax neither of which we think it proper to disguise. cruing to Burns amounted to five hundred pounds, of which

- The reference to Theocritus and Virgil is manifestly a ruse nearly one half was allocated by him, in the form of a loan or a sort of pardonable compliance with the way of the world otherwise, for the benefit of his relatives at Mossgiel. The that on the youthful Author's part, who scarcely needs after printing of this edition took place in the establishment of Mr. to inform his educated that the Doric of the distin- at once literateur readers, Smellie, who was printer, philosopher, and ; guished Greek at least was a "sealed book" to him in the one of those characters for which Edinburgh at the time was of original. It is questionable, indeed, if he knew anything remarkable, and which connect that city in our imaginations that author at all either in Greek or English at the time, still with the old literary capitals of Europe. In Smellie' s \inless through some sorrowful misprint, or the medium of an office there were frequent interviews of the most distinguished So a as an e for a u, tells men of their and with one of at as learn ill-spelt dictionary. slight hint, day ; these, least, we curious tales of unnecessary deference to authority, and a from Mr. Chambers, on the authority of Mr. Smellie's son, desire to look well with the world, on the part of an aspirant Burns himself, when revising proofs for this edition, had an to immortality who had room enough under the shadow of his awkward rencontre. Sir John Dalrymple was correcting some hand for a score of writers like Theocritus. essay of his own then in progress of publication, and occupied

EDINBURGH EDITION : This enlarged, and for the time very the stool which Burns was accustomed to sit upon. Burns handsome re-issue of the Author's works, took place under the would sit on no other; Sir John declined to give it up "to " in the of about nine months after fellow but informed who highest auspices spring 1787, yon impudent staring ; upon being

' ' the publication at Kilmarnock. It was undertaken by Creech, the staring fellow was, exclaimed Good gracious ! give him a bibliopole of the first rank; was very liberally subscribed for all the seats in your house!" and immediately withdrew. both by the gentry and nobility of Scotland, and even by many Burns thereupon, in his accustomed seat, proceeded with his colleges or associations of Scotchmen abroad; was enriched corrections. In this office, it is also said, that whilst waiting with a portrait of the Author, engraved con amore by Beugo for proofs, he was accustomed to stride to and fro, among the * was dedicated a which he from the picture by Nasmyth ; by special per- printing presses, occasionally cracking long whip mission to the Caledonian Hunt, and upon the whole was carried in his hand, much to the surprise of the compositors.

' presented to the world as advantageously as possible. It The principal additions in this volume were Death and ' appeared on the 21st of April, and bore upon its title page the Doctor Hornbook,' Brigs of Ayr,' 'Ordination,' 'The Calf,' ' ' ' following words : Address to the Unco Guid,' Tarn Samson's Elegy,' A Winter Night,' 'Address to Edinburgh,' with Stanzas, Prayers, of a few additional &c. of POEMS, Translations Psalms, Songs, ; many these in a most manner the CHIEFLY IN THE indicating singular religious, moral, and social sympathies of the Author. Indeed, with SCOTTISH DIALECT. regard to the contents of this volume, we may even venture to affirm, that although written at various and often distant dates, they have been arranged by the Author in a certain BY sequence, manifestly suggested by his own personal or domestic at the time a in our humble ROBERT BURNS. relationships ; sequence which, opinion, ought never to have been disturbed. With reference event of his as we EDINBURGH: to one special painful indeed, private life, shall hereafter see, that silent but significant arrangement is PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR, worth a hundred commentaries. AND SOLD BY WILLIAM CREECH. The DEDICATION prefixed to this edition, as the occasion perhaps demanded, was a more ambitious performance than M,DCC,LXXXVII. in an the original Kilmarnock Preface; conceived entirely studied and for- The Dedication, for effect, was printed throughout in Italic different style, and expressed with emphasis the characters. The volume, large octavo, presented the whole mality. A sort of acknowledgment of this, by Author and be found in the verses to very long list of subscribers, a table of contents, three hun- himself, will by by introductory ' as if he did not feel satisfied on the dred and thirty-five pages of poetry, and an enlarged glossary The Brigs,' quite subject. list of seems to have been itself, with its letters poetic appended. The subscribers made The typography capital indicating is of much and the of ortho- up at the last moment, and is inserted, with no great taste, abstractions, suggestive ; change the be- between the Dedication and the body of the book, so as to graphy, both in Dedication and throughout volume, also on the Author's in relation to the derange the natural order of the paging. The edition was speaks a change part of at five no less world. He was now to some extent under tutorage, unprecedentedly large; which, shillings, literary to the literati of the metro- than two thousand eight hundred copies were subscribed for. and had been listening deferentially for to the then In his advertisement, Mr. Creech announced that the sale was polis. The original or, example, gives place but it after in Latin derivatives; an place to exclusively for the benefit of the Author; was only fashionable our, gives other * in and et to it; whilst one or perhaps two slight See Appendix Kerry Miniatures. t AND HISTORICAL.] OF ROBERT BURNS.

Until wi' damn variations which, if not by design, are certainly by mistake, weary grown, a knowe sat Upon they them down ; seem to show that, with all the care bestowed by Burns on more but neither so truth- this edition, the text as it left his own hand at that moment polished certainly, descriptive nor ful as the was not by any means free from imperfections. Examples plain original.

c. I. 1. I've aften wonder' of the same sort of inadvertencies, or momentary predilec- p. 6, 1, d, honest Luath, What sort o' life like poor dogs you have ; tions for one form over another, in these two editions, might An' when the gentry's life I saw, but has been said to the easily be multiplied ; enough satisfy What way poor bodies liv'd ava.

for ' reader that absolute accuracy cannot be maintained Burns's ' The exquisite juxta-position here of the poor dogs and the own revisions, and that the utmost diligence is required to ' poor bodies,' and the simplicity of Caesar's observation as a purify the letter of his text from such typographical blemishes. foreigner, require only to be pointed out. This was rural p. 5. THE TWA DOGS: A Tale. This inimitable fable, un- philosophy on the state of our 'populations,' by an unpre- for has set paralleled truthfulness and beauty, been wisely by ' judiced observer about a hundred years ago. The poor body'

Burns himself it is with the ' ' (in compliance, said, original must the and both or either of have poor dog ; how them in front of all his writings. To expatiate printer's advice) contrived to eke out an existence, was the gravest problem for on its excellence before an reader would be a waste intelligent this kind-hearted favourite of fortune. of words. There is wisdom and sagacity in it deeper than 1. 28. Bairan a quarry, an' sic like : most philosophies of life, charity and religion broader than In Edinburgh Edition Baring a quarry, &c. any creed, artistic simplicity and power like the finest painting. It was written in the year 1786, whilst the first edition of his altered, by some typographical oversight doubtless, in Cham- to ' a ' poems was already in the press, and in the midst of the most bers (Ed. 1856), Barring quarry which can only mean humiliating domestic annoyance to which a man could be stopping up the entrance to a quarry, a process almost quite of a subjected. Its immediate object was to commemorate the death unknown in Scotland, except under the operation police act; at the take more than an hour of a favourite dog; its ultimate object, to prophesy to the and which could not, uttermost, i.e. a means the people on the folly of discontent and the sin of selfishness. to do. 'Bairan,' baring quarry, clearing away of soil and rubbish from the face of the rock, to allow the c. 1, /. 1. 'Twas in that place o' Scotland's isle That bears the name o' auld king Coil : quarrymen to begin operations which preliminary process is not but or even Kyle or Coil, the central division of Ayrshire, is separated from only common, indispensable, may occupy days and is the work of the common the Carrick on the south by the river Doon, and from Cunningham weeks, invariably labourer, the or the 'cot-man' of the on the north by the Irvine. Within this district Burns was 'delver,' 'ditcher,' neighbourhood. born and lived, except the few months he was boarded at 1. 31. An' nought but his han-daurg to keep Them right an' tight in thack an' raep. Kirkoswald, until he went to reside permanently in Dumfries- ' or ' what a man with his own hand can shire. The reader will find a poetical outline of this region, Han-daurg,' daurk,' ' to dark a as depicted in the Muse's robe of Coila, in the Vision.' Its do from dark day's work. name is derived traditionally from Coilus a pre-historic The sun ariseth man goeth forth unto his work, and to his until tire evening. Ps. civ. 22, 23. sovereign of the Picts, who was entombed, according to com- labour, ' ' mon belief, somewhere about the old mansion of Coilsfield. Thack and raep thatch and fastening of straw and ropes

' In the year 1837, after laborious excavations on the spot to for a cottage, or stack of corn or hay (see The Brigs,' /. 25) which tradition pointed, calcined remains in ancient earthen used figuratively here for the shelter of roof and clothing, on urns were the conditions certainly discovered ; which represented unquestion- simplest imaginable. some or of ably distinguished hero, heroes, the primitive race. And why take ye thought for raiment ? Mat. vi. 28. Coilsfield, the Bloody Bum, and the Dead Man's are Holm, I. 35. Ye maist wad think a wee touch langer, names attached to the locality still, with which Burns himself, And they maun starve o' cauld and hunger. as we know, was familiar during his residence in that neigh- It is not uncommon to quote from other authors passages or bourhood, and which he has immortalised under the more expressions, which seem to have been models for Burns, or at poetic designation of the Castle of his Montgomery. [See least to have his language. In Ferguson and ' suggested own notes to Edinburgh Edition of the Vision.'] Ramsay both, who were avowedly models in some things, such c. 2, I. G. And in his freaks had Luath ca'd him, no to be found and such we shall have passages are, doubt, ; After some dog in Highland sang, occasion also to ; but it is not allowable on Was made lang syne Lord knows how lang. frequent quote coincidence of to or in- * ' mere phraseology, allege imitation, Cuchullin's dog in Ossian's Fingal.' R. B. debtedness of any kind at all. Innumerable instances of The reference here made to the indefinite of antiquity Highland such coincidence might be discovered, in which no previous song seems to indicate not only Burns's own passing faith in knowledge, on any reasonable ground, could be imagined. the originality of Ossian, but his acquaintance at the time In Dante's description of that dread wood of poverty and exile, with the discussion that had been raised on the subject. for example, in which so much of his own life was lost, and 1. 23. Till tir'd at last wi' mony a farce, so much of his inspiration found, an expression almost identical They set them down upon their ai se, with the above occurs. Inferno: Can. I. I. 7. In the edition of 1793, these two simple, natural, and graphic Tanto e amara, che poco d pia morte. ' ' lines were : superseded, and the two following took their place So dire it was, a touch were almost death LIFE AND WORKS [NOTES CRITICAL

of Instances of such casual correspondence, as they occur from this note; to the general reader we have only to say, that lime to time, we shall note hereafter as we proceed. this explanation is intended, once for all, to illustrate our

p. 6, c. 1, 1. 37. But how it comes, I never kent yet, revision of the text where it appears necessary, and that in

in i future, the results of that revision will be without misprinted Carrie's edition never kend it, given any such c. 2, I. 19. They're no sae wretched's ane wad think : lengthened commentary. Tho' on constantly poortith'a brink, p. 7, c. 1, I. 17. The cantie auld folks ci'ackan crouse. They're sae accustom'd wi' the sight, Ihus, A gray-hair'd knight set up his head, The view o't gies them little fright. Jfaitland. And cracket right crousely ; Auld misprinted also in Currie, and elsewhere, thus Also, And yet for all his cracking crouse Raid o' Reids-wire. no sae wretched's ane wad think, They're (or;) I 19. My heart has been sae fain to see them, Tho' on brink : constantly poortith's That I for joy hae barket wi' them. They're sae, &c. This surely is one of those divine touches of nature that 'make by which reading, both the sense and the authority of the the whole world kin' : original are equally set aside. According to the original, the Because the creature itself also shall be delivered from the bondage of cor- with the second, and on to the end of the metaphor begins goes ruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God ! Rom. vii. 21. line founded on the that the oftener and fourth fact, longer I. 37. Or may be in a frolic daft, we look over a precipice, the safer we feel upon the brink of To Hague or Calais taks a waft, &c. it. the The eyesight adapts itself by degrees to position, and By no means an uncommon complaint in those days : of the sense giddiness diminishes in proportion. Danger But when the young Laird became vain, And went to France and begets daring; daring gradually mellows into self-control and away Spain, Rome raking, wand' ring here and there : till the worst can be confronted with com- security; abyss O then began our bootless care ! posure or indifference. Blessed, indeed, are the poor: for theirs Speech of Fife Laird, Newly Come from the Grave,

! c. I. 11. A fellow at the is that life of faith which is next to the kingdom of heaven p. 8, 1, country pleugh, His acre's till'd he's right eneugh ; Therefore take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall we A country girl at her wheel, drink? or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed? Mat. vi. 31. Her dizzen's done, she's unco weel :

I. 27. The dearest comfort o' their lives' Caesar's sagacious contrast here supplies the deficiency of Their grushie weans and faithfu' wives ; Luath's observation: but by the most singular misappre- these two lines appear, both in the original and other editions, hension, founded on practical ignorance, these lines both in so far as we are aware, with a different punctuation, thus Currie's and several other editions since his, have not only The dearest comfort o' their lives, been altered from the original, but robbed entirely of their faithfu' Their grushie weans and wives ; sense and importance as statistical authority in rural affairs. which leaves the sentence without a conclusion, and is un- His acres he's till'd, right eneugh ; doubtedly a misprint. As this is the first correction of the Her dizzens she's unco kind which occurs, it may be proper to quote what the done, weel, ' Author at so late a date as 1790, and after so much inter- is an edition not only false but meaningless. To till an acre' the In a letter to was a fair for man and horse to ' a dozen vening experience, says upon subject. Mrs. day's work ; spin " Dunlop, November of that year, he casually observes As to cuts,' a fair day's work, among other household concerns, for printing of poetry, when you prepare it for the press, you a girl at the wheel; which being done in either case, the have only to spell it right, and place the capital letters labourer was entitled to credit. To do much more, even in properly : as to the punctuation, the printers do that them- favourable circumstances, was worthy of record : in careful in Aft thee and in hours' selves." He was general very such matters ; in I, aught gaun, On guid March weather, his correspondence, scrupulously so : but that the prose Hae turned sax rood beside our ban' relieved him of that trouble in their own printers occasionally For days thegither : is manifest from several way, sufficiently examples. that is, an acre and a half; but acres and dozens would be In the there can be a doubt that a present instance, hardly illimitable labour, without rest or satisfaction to any one con- comma has been inserted instead of an Another apostrophe. cerned. If an alteration that would more distinctly express instance, about which there can be no doubt at all, occurs the sense of the original could be tolerated, it would be to strike elsewhere. The as we have ventured to lines, print them, 's His acre . Her dizzen out the altogether ; when till'd, done, read not with but with a beautiful only perfect sequence, very would render future mistakes on the subject impossible. antithetic relation, and of numbers, and interchange singular It may be interesting for some of our readers to know the which demonstrates, more than plural alternately; clearly exact proportion of such work expected from peasant girls in else could, the delicate which Robert anything perception Ayrshire: we subjoin accordingly, on the authority of an Burns had of such recondite in The principles language. experienced matron, the following local standards of woollen relative words we now italicise, to out this of point harmony weft : 120 threads = 1 cut : 4 cuts = 1 hank : 12 hanks =

construction to the reader : 1 spindle : 1 spindle and 2 hanks, less or more, according to The dearest cnmfort o' their lives' [is] strength, = 1 pair blankets. To spin 12 cuts a day, in addition weans and faithfu' Their grushie wives ; to other household is excellent to The prattling things are just their pride, work, performance; spin That sweetens a' their fire-side. is to more than that in the circumstances, uncommon ; spin To the grammarian we need offer no apology for the extent twice that quantity would require the uninterrupted labour of KB*

ROBERT BURNS. AND HISTORICAL.] OF

Non ille, Socraticis madct : about quamquam the most accomplished spinster from morning till night Sermonibus, te negliget horridus : at the would be five days therefore, of ordinary work wheel, Narratur et prisci Catonis Saepe mero caluisse virtus. required to furnish thread for one pair of blankets.

Wine kept old Cato's virtue warm ; sun was out o' p. 8, c. 2, I. 1. By this, the sight, This whets the dull, and wit inspires ; The grave with vigour fires, The masters of landscape and animal painting, by sprightly greatest And, by a never-failing charm, no finer combined efforts for weeks, could produce representa- Unlocks the mind, and all its gay desires. Creech. tion than what follows in the three succeeding lines. There is These quotations we give as specimens. The resemblance not in the whole of a more perfect picture, compass Shakspear between the two Scotch and Latin, can be fully and with moral originals, including figure, colour, action, time, sound, appreciated the reader who happens to understand in two only by sense than is here presented to the reader conjoined, them both. No translation in this respect does justice to of this wonder- score words : yet the whole concluding portion is Horace, or could do justice to Burns. The one, in fact, ful work was dashed off most probably during an evening's the best translator of the other unconsciously; but with an walk or ride from Kilmarnock to Mossgiel, in child-like admixture on Burns's side of a deep and gentle charity, that with the of a and to meet the acquiescence suggestions printer, makes his humour like a pungent balm to the consciences of of the compositor when his operations began. requirements mankind. Of this, more hereafter. in the 8. SCOTCH DEINK : Written most probably spring ' p. There is some uncertainty about the date of the Holy Fair,' of at a time when Burns was remarkable for sobriety 1785, which we shall by and by consider. In the meantime, the rather than for excess. Such eulogiums, therefore, as this, above reference to "public haunts," and "fairs and rants," and such lamentations as those of the succeeding poem, are and "godly meetings o' the saunts," "when gaping they no evidence at all of any disorder in the Author's tastes or besiege the tents," seems to indicate that all these topics were the time. are exaggerations habits at They simply poetical associated at the moment in the Poet's mind by rather more in to the of the national tastes and regard cheapest ' feelings, than accidental connection. Was the Holy Fair' already, as and most stimulant then in use. Let those who invigorating a literary sketch, upon the easel ? doubt this observe, that the very first stanza contains a protest p. 9, c. 1 s. 6. An' just a wee drap sp'ritual burn in, that the alcohol, in the shape of against inebriety ; strongest An' gusty sucker ! is denounced with a curse as trash;" and brandy, "burning old Scottish form of that word from French mere. This mix- that the climax of here quoted is the simple very enjoyment ture was a favourite potation among our forefathers in the relish of heated mixed with a little ardent spirits and ale, humbler ranks of life. The intense enjoyment here manifest, sweetened with on a new-year's morning ! The idea of sugar, of so simple a luxury, is proof enough how strongly Burns intoxication does not once appear in the whole composition. could relish the poorest pleasures of life, and how easily he in its reference to Mr. Chambers quotes the seventh stanza, of existence could be contented with the humblest provisions ; "the man's wine," as an indication of humanity which poor how humiliating, therefore, it must have been for him at last atones for much else "that is objectionable in the poem." to accept an office which required him to interfere with these of this kind but We do not consider atonement required ; any humble luxuries of the poor, may be imagined. should if a with that object is to be made at all, we quotation Si 7. When Vulcan gies his bellys breath, stanza prefer to make it from the immediately preceding, And ploughmen gather wi' their graith, O rare ! Thou even brightens dark despair, &c., For anecdotes of Burns's colloquial and story-telling powers which embodies a truth as well known to philosophers like on such occasions, see App. : Orig. Eemin. as to Burns, and that lies at the root of one half Solomon, see c. 2, s. 3. When skirlin weanies the light, excess in which the and the destitute, of the sorrowful hopeless Thou maks the gossips' clatter bright, fumblin cuifs their dearies in most communities, take refuge ! How slight ; Wae worth the name ! We shall have frequent occasion hereafter to compare with Nae howdie gets a social night, in common. Horace, between whom and Burns there was much Or plack frae them. In the let the student read along with 'Scotch meantime, Both in the Kilmarnock and Edinburgh editions, the second Drink' Horace's Ad Car. III. xxi., and judge ' Amphoram, line of this stanza reads as if clatter' were a verb, very much and lies. where the superiority in humour genial humanity of the sense the omission in these editions to the weakening ; ' Thus Thou even brightens dark despair of the apostrophe after gossips,' was no doubt an accident. Wi' smile gloomy In the Kilmarnock edition the concluding lines of the stanza Tu spem reducis mentibus anxiis, stood thus et addis cornua &c. Wae worth them for't ! Viresque ; pauperi, While healths gae round to him wha, tight, cheers Wine with fresh Hope the coward ; Gies famous sport. Revives the wretched and undone, And makes the slave his lord disown -.Creech. on which the change in the Edinburgh edition is unquestion- Again ably an improvement.

o' the c. s. 3. Ferintosh ! O sadly lost ! p. 9, c. 1 *. 5. Even godly meetings saunts, p. 10, 1, Thee, By thee inspired, For Forbes' chartered boast When gaping they besiege the tents, loyal Is ta'en awa ! Are doubly fired. 88 LIFE AND WORKS [NOTES CRITICAL

In an elaborate note on this place, Mr. Chambers details the Scotland to be roopit. The word is not in Jainieson." Cham- particulars of the transaction here referred to. It amounted, bers. This is a correct enough illustration of the secondary in fact, to a monopoly of free distillation granted to the sense of the word, but not at all applicable in the present case. Forbeses of Culloden by Act of Scottish Parliament, 1690, The word signifies originally that peculiar hoarseness which is purchased up by Government, 1785 (shortly before the writing the result of over-straining the voice by loud crying, or ' of this poem), for 21,580 an arrangement which of course scriechan,' and comes directly from the Dutch roepen, roept. would soon of distilled and " very tend to raise the price spirits ; The voice of one die roept, who cries, in the wilderness." which, in connection with Excise impositions immediately It may not be in Jamieson (who overlooks the Dutch deriva- following, inflamed the Scottish people against such fiscal tives occasionally), but is nevertheless authentic Scotch. For enactments to a point that menaced the Government with the explanation of all similar terms, phrases, arid expressions, reference to which the 'Earnest Cry and Prayer' appeared. the reader is respectfully referred in future to the Glossary, in p. 10. EARNEST CRY AND PRAYER: "Was wrote," says which they will be found arranged under distinctive heads. in his ' ' before the Act anent Scotch Burns, Edinburgh edition, p. 11, c, 1, s. 3. And cheek-for-chow, a chuffle vintner, Distilleries, of Session 1786; for which Scotland and the Author Colleaguing join, return their most thanks." The Kilmarnock grateful edition, that is, "join in your representation the chuffie vintner in of the which contained this poem, appeared July 1786; poem (the seller of wines or brandies) colleaguing with the black- must been written in the of that itself, therefore, have spring guard smuggler (the importer of wines or brandies)." / So far as Burns' s moral habits are the year. concerned, c. s. 5. 2, (Ueil na they never mair do guid ) same remarks apply here as have already been made on the So printed, because the expression so stands both in the Kil- foregoing. The poems belong to the same year, most probably marnock and in the Edinburgh editions. But the correct form to the same half-year. The political references with which " is undoubtedly "Deil nor as it occurs subsequently in this abounds were all familiar at the but piece enough time, ' " " The Brigs,' Deil nor ye never rise !" that is, Deil care, are now not of much importance. The number of them, " although ye never rise ! however, and their discriminating point, indicate clearly the c. . 2. Tell bluid o' auld Author's with the and chief p. 12, 1, yon guid Boeonnock's, acquaintance political proceedings I'll be his debt twa mashlum bonnocks, political personages of the hour. It is strange enough to An' drink his health in auld Nanse Tinnock's,* Nine times a reflect on the unhappy influence that one of these, at least week, If he some scheme, like tea and winnocks, Premier Youth" and bluid o' auld Bocon- "yon "yon guid Wad kindly seek. nocks" was at last to exert on his own later destinies. Mr. * A worthy old hostess of the Author's in Mauchline, where he sometimes informs was of the Cornish house of Pitt, as Mr. Chambers us, studies politics over a glass of guid auld Scotch drink. R. B. Boconnocks. The only other parties not distinctly named are "Nine times a week" is of course a mere poetical exaggera- Sir Adam of Kilkerran, Bart., and the of Ferguson Marquis tion. Besides which, the reader must remember that the Graham, the "Highland Baron," afterwards third Duke of usual potations under that old lady's roof were confined to Montrose. In the original manuscript, an additional stanza common home-brewed ale, of which both lads and lasses were is found, quoted by Currie in his Appendix, and inserted by partakers the entire expense of an evening's entertainment Chambers in his text. It stood last in the list of appellations, amounting perhaps to a few coppers ! The reference in this and before the apostrophe, "Arouse, boys! immediately my stanza is to the compromise of the duty on tea by the imposi- Thee, Sodger Hugh, my watchman stented, tion of a tax on windows, introduced by Mr. Pitt, as Chancellor e'er If Bardies are represented ; of in 1784. I ken if that your sword were wanted, Exchequer, Ye'd lend a hand 12. POSTSCRIPT Contains a but truthful contrast ; p. strong But when there's to anent ought say it, between two extreme types of the race, existing under Ye're at a stand. in its extremely different conditions ; and, vigorous concluding The here referred to was Colonel Mont- gentleman Hugh stanzas, touches not incorrectly on the philosophy of much of then of and gomery Coilsfield, representative Ayrshire, that is accepted among ourselves on a higher hypothesis. At twelfth Earl of He served as an subsequently Eglintoune. the same time, it would be both ungenerous and false to officer in the American war. The stanza above quoted was the field of with identify courage in its highest forms, on battle, no doubt, from the of the allusion to omitted, unpleasantness anything approaching to mere alcoholic stimulus. Eecent his defective utterance. A was out to portrait lately pointed events in the history of our own campaigns have demonstrated as that of the individual in It was at us, very question. the very reverse of this. least an original, and represented a very manly aristocratic as one of the most p. 13. HOLY FAIR: On this, important in uniform ; and to with a reflections person antique military strange say, satires on religious indecorum ever written, few a mouth so small, and so curiously indented in the lip, are and all the upper beyond the scope of mere annotation required ; articulation must have been If this that perfect impossible. because its own moral and even truthfulness " more, tendency were the of it was iden- really portrait Sodger Hugh" (and have been seriously questioned. So lately as the year 1863, we as such an old retainer of the then his ' tified by family), speech find the reverend and accomplished editor of Good Words,' been between a a and a must have lisp, whistle, stammer. Dr. Norman Macleod of the Barony Parish, Glasgow, some-

. 2. Alas ! Muse is ! of his p 10, c. 2, my roupet hearse time also a minister in Ayrshire, in the last chapter

' ' ' of a Parish,' after a most A person at the last stage of a cold in the throat is said in Reminiscences Highland edifying

AND HISTORICAL.] OF ROBERT BURNS. 89

account of a similar occasion in the churchyard of lona, addressed to the Church for the remedying of such evil, whilst - the : Burns was in his cradle reference to the Session making following commentary yet ; and by " Books of the It has been the fashion indeed, of some people who know nothing about Scot- Mauchline shows, that the actual attendance at ' ' ' land or her church, to use Burns as an authority for calling such meetings holy tables ranged from twelve to fourteen hundred in these very fairs.' What they may have been in the days of the poet, or how much he may years, whilst the whole of the did not exceed himself have contributed to profane them, I know not. But neither in Ayrshire population parish and wicked a fifteen nor anywhere else, have I ever been doomed to behold so irreverent hundred. What else could such a gathering in one village as he Good Vol. 1863, p. 837. spectacle pourtrays." Words, for from the whole surrounding district be, but a fair? Let a First On the above insinuation, we have to remark, in the single testimony on the subject suffice. The first reading of place, That Burns did not originate such a designation at all. the 'Holy Fair' was over a chair-back in Nanse Tinnock's It was common in his own day, over the West of Scotland (as parlour, in presence of two or three young friends, including he himself expressly declares in a note at the place, in his the Poet's own brother William, with their sweethearts, Jean Edinburgh Edition), as the most descriptive term that could be Armour herself being of the number. That little company found for such and at Mauchline it was himself 'in religious gatherings ; was convulsed with laughter, and Eobert was ' ' ' peculiarly appropriate, in as much as the tent-preachings great glee effects which no patent forgery or falsehood could were held in the open churchyard, on the very spot where ever have produced in him or them. Copies of the poem were the cattle market or common fair at other times was held, very soon distributed, and circulated from hand to hand without with houses of public entertainment on all sides 'Nanse reserve. Among others, the Eev. Mr. Reid of New Cumnock ' ' ' Tinnock's in the rear, Poosie Nansie's,' Johnny Dow's,' (an honest enough man, but sadly afflicted with an orthodox ' ' &c., in front, and the Cowgate facing the Tent. Whatever whine), who had been affectionately warning his parishioners

' may have been the spiritual condition of this neighbourhood against such unsanctified literature as that which "was now at the time in question, we happen to be aware, from the emanating from Mauchline, had nevertheless so much curiosity incontestable evidence of the Session Books, that its physical on this particular subject as to request a perusal of the manu- condition, a few years before the date of the poem, was script. It was accordingly submitted to the rev. gentleman, scandalous, almost revolting. The heritors, who were over- who studied it attentively; and on being asked whether he tured on the subject, for their own credit at last improved it, approved of it, declared in his usual tone of tearful sorrow, by the erection of a substantial wall, 'two ells' in height; which with his hand upon his eyes, "that the warst thing about it seems to have been done shortly before the date of the poem. was, it was Just owre true." From the above facts, which we ' ' In the Second place : Dr. Macleod should bo aware that have on the best authority as to the reading from an eye- Robert Burns' s habits at this time were by no means as he witness, as to the circulation of the manuscript from the son of

here insinuates, or in any other way, such as to increase the a most intimate friend of the Poet's [see App. : Orig. Remin. ' profanation he exposes. On the contrary, it is the notorious Mr. Reid's] we are inclined to believe that the Holy Fair' fact, that Burns was not only comparatively a sober, but an must be dated at least twelve months earlier than is commonly ' as then a attender on ' first exemplary youth, morals went ; devout supposed. The reading in such circumstances, the pre- religious ordinances himself, and a critic of admitted authority sence of Jean Armour on that occasion, and the subsequent on all questions of theology, at that very date and for years circulation of the manuscript, seem to be all incompatible with before. But although he had been the most influential young that supposition, with facts in the history of the parties con- profligate in the three kingdoms, does Dr. Macleod mean to cerned, and with the publication of the poem -itself in the affirm that his solitary presence or example could have so month of July, 1786. If it was not written in that year, debased the morals of an entire region, as to convert a pure therefore, it must have been in the summer of the year and ordinance into a scene of riot and ? a that is consistent holy dissipation The before, supposition with everything ; and Prince of Wales himself of that date, if he had been living in consequently at a time, when Burns himself was still less liable Ayrshire, could not, with all his monstrous indecencies, have to any charge of personal immorality as the author of it. produced an effect like that in three years. Let Dr. Macleod In the Fourth place : The reader will observe that Burns's be well assured of it such indecencies the of is ; were growth description occupied entirely with the scenes which occurred generations, fostered, if not created, by the folly and incapacity out of doors, and were obvious to any passenger on the highway. of the Church herself. With admirable modesty, and with a sense of religion which In the Third place : As to the fact itself, which Dr. Macleod Dr. Macleod does not seem to credit in the author, he avoids seems to question it is surprising to us that a man with such all reference whatever to the administration of the Ordinance an eye for the natural, both in reality and in description, as itself within the House of God; but we could inform the the Rev* Doctor certainly enjoys, should hesitate an instant Rev. Doctor, if necessary, that worse scenes of immorality, about accepting it, even through the haze of a professional than anything Burns describes outside, have been witnessed of meerschaum among the ruins lona. The truth of that at the very Table of the Lord, and among the officiating clergy description is, if possible, more certain than the Doctor's own themselves, in more than one landward parish in the Low- interesting position in the Turkish bath, or on the steps of an lands of Scotland, at a much later date. How such matters ' Egyptian pyramid. The description, in fact, is so indubitably in the last generation might be in that Highland Parish,' real, that it must have been the result of repeated observations. where everything was purity and perfection otherwise, with Mr. Chambers has been at pains to demonstrate the truth a little allowable infusion, perhaps, of couleur du rose for tho of and other of do not but do on it; quotes, among things, part a remonstrance occasion, we know ; we know, testimony as U 90 LIFE AND WORKS [NOTES CRITICAL

unquestionable as that of the Eev. Doctor himself, what the only against any further liberties being taken with the name state of matters was for a generation or two about Burns' s and character, or with the religion of Robert Burns. time, not in but in and Linlith- ' only Ayrshire, Stirlingshire, p. 14, c. 1, s. vii t. When by the 'plate we set our nose, Weel wi' gowshire, and Berwickshire, and generally south of the heaped up ha'pence, A greedy glowr ' Black-bonnet ' throws, Forth ; and take the of that if Dr. Macleod, liberty affirming, And we maun draw our tippence. in the parish of Loudon, or in its neighbourhood, could dis- Then in we go to see the show : &c.

' cover no trace of the recorded in the Fair,' ' ' profanities Holy Black-bonnet a familiar designation of questionable respect he was more indebted to that satire for such blessed very for the officiating elder, whose duty it might be to superin- ' immunity, than to all the sermons that were ever preached tend the ' collection.' The ' was a circular " plate large, flat, the in And now upon subject by any presbytery Ayrshire. pewter dish, usually stamped with the name of the parish, and also the axe is laid unto the root of the trees : tree there- every the date of its own presentation or purchase. On such occasions fore which not forth fruit is hewn and bringeth good down, it was set a chair, or stool, covered with " upon high three-legged cast into the fire." Do men of thorns ? or gather grapes figs a white cloth, at the gate of the churchyard, or outermost of thistles ? Wherefore their fruits shall know them." by ye entrance of the church, to receive the offerings of all who That Burns was indebted for the model of this satire to the might approach the sanctuary. In one Highland parish of ' ' Leith Races of Robert is In the Ferguson, indisputable. fashionable resort, we have seen it outside altogether, on the

stanzas themselves there is considerable resemblance ; opening very street. At Mauchline, it would most probably stand on and the allegorical personage who introduces Ferguson to the the also so after ' very verge of the highway ; that, drawing ' is identical with Burns's at the Races,' imaginary companion their tippence,' the worshippers, as here represented, went ' Fair.' It is remarkable that as soon as the scene ' Holy even, in,' not necessarily to the church itself, where the Communion of action in either case is these reached, imaginary companions was to be administered, but only to the churchyard, where both vanish or with the and the mingle crowd, poets respec- the tent-preachings were conducted. We repeat, there is are left alone. In these however, and in the tively respects, singular religious modesty in this circumstance, that Burns is the in all in versification, only resemblance ; others, style, neither intrudes himself nor introduces his readers into the in in and ; above all, in the details, solemnity importance spirit House of God, nor makes the slightest reference to any religious of wisdom and for the of abuses and the truth, rectifying ceremony conducted there, but confines his observations ex- of the and of the purification morals, superiority originality clusively to what occurs without. ' ' Holy Fair are conspicuous at a single glance. c. 2, s. xi. O happy is that man, an' blest ! &c.

p. 13, c. 1, s. i. Upon a simmer Sunday morn, The naive and truthfulness of this cannot When Nature's face is fair, reality description I walked forth to view the himself from corn, possibly be doubted ; but how far Burns was any An' snuff the caller air. &c. such indulgence, the following anecdote, on unquestionable The celebration of the at Mauchline was in the Communion authority, will prove : On a similar occasion at Tarbolton, or month of but from the of this which a hearer. August ; language stanza, one of the neighbouring parishes, Burns was Two of a earlier is is descriptive much period of the year, one young ladies of good position, and slightly at that time disposed to conclude, either that the terms of description here acquainted with the Poet, were seated on the opposite side of employed were suggested directly by the corresponding stanza the congregation in the open air. A heavy shower passed ' ' ' ' ' in Leith Races,' or that the Holy Fair itself was written, over the audience, when there was no available shed perhaps after and that the ' to many observations, piecemeal ; introductory to screen the countra gentry.' Burns, who happened have stanzas were noted down in anticipation, not later than the an umbrella, rare enough in those days, walked deliberately month of June preceding the veritable occasion: in which round to shelter the ladies, who had none: this he did by case we may also conclude, that in the composition of these standing respectfully behind their chair, and holding the stanzas Burns was actually abroad, enjoying the early sun- umbrella over their heads. When the rain ceased, and a shine and celestial melodies of a Sabbath morn, in sympathy gaping crowd expected to see him take advantage of his situa- and in harmony with all animated nature. tion by remaining in their neighbourhood, he quietly closed and walked round to his c. 2, s. iv. Ye, for my sake, hae gien the feck the umbrella, deliberately again Of a' the Ten Commauns original identical position, where he remained a devout and A screed some day. attentive listener till the conclusion of the service. No What? At the of or under, when age twenty-five your highest-bred chivalry and piety combined could surpass that. friends are all such calum- zealously defending you against The ladies in question were two of the Misses Ronalds, of to make a confession like this ! Of the Fourth Com- nies, Bennals one of them remarkable for her piety, and a subse- which is here under and how mandment, dispute, knowing quent correspondent of Burns himself, on topics connected

matters stand elsewhere, we shall ; but the Fifth, say nothing with religion. [See App. : Orig. Remin. Mr. Reid's.] and the Sixth, and the Seventh, and the Eighth, and the s. xii. Wi' tidings o' salvation. Ninth, surely that was an exaggeration, Robert ? And yet So in Kilmarnock Edition : altered by advice of Dr. Blair to the Ten Commandments, since your day but this is a topic Wi' o' damnation, too delicate perhaps, or sacred, for discussion in these pages. tidings for for the satire of the edition is We gladly resign it, therefore, investigation elsewhere, to unfortunately ; original infinitely ' in is presbyteries and pulpits or religious periodicals; protesting superior. Salvation,' great swelling words, professedly AND HISTORICAL.] OF ROBERT BURNS. 91

tlie therne of such preachers; 'damnation,' the mere con- or quotations so very slight, which occur here and there under his sufficient Burns's sequence of refusing it ! They ascend the pulpit always with own hand, are proofs of scrupulous

of : it with the in all such matters and leave no doubt tidings salvation they quit almost invariably honesty ; whatever, reverse. Burns is said to have accepted this alteration with that where any correspondence of ideas or of language, great readiness; at the same time, he made the significant between him and others, occurs, without such acknowledg- request for leave to publish the Doctor's name, as the author ment, the Author himself was unconscious of it. of the refused. ' it, which Doctor dexterously but decidedly p. 16, c. l,s. xxvi. Now Clinkumbell,' wi' rattlantow, This request has been considered by some of his editors a liberty Begins tojow an' croon; Variation Robin &c. unbecoming on his part. "Why so ? If a distinguished rhetori- NOW Gib, cian and dignitary of the church chooses to suggest expressive The old church-bell of Mauchline was rung originally with a but indecorous to a terms young, and presumably inexperienced rope having a fathom or two of an iron chain at the end of it, to friend, for publication, why should he be ashamed or afraid to prevent its being cut away by the schoolboys. After the the ? Dr. Blair wise in his adopt responsibility was generation. fall of the crazy belfry, it was removed to the cleft of an ash- Both we were almost words, may mention, originally printed tree, at the north-west gable of the church. In this new position, as if the Poet himself did not wish to entirely blank, pronounce as we are informed, two curious accidents befell it: first, the them : and with not to but some other altera- respect only this, tongue dropped out, striking the ringer on the head, and our decided conviction that were in hirn tions, is, they acquiesced almost depriving of life; second, the branch itself on by the Author with great reluctance. "Dr. Gregory," says which it one winter and the " hung gave way stormy night, another of his is a man : but he he, concerning critics, good instrument of parochial summons came to the ground. The crucifies me." old church itself has since been replaced, however, by an edifice

. For frae p. 15, c. 1, xvi. [Peebles] the water-fit, of handsome proportions, in whose tower, the identical bell, still does Indecorums The names of the reverend gentlemen referred to, throughout, surviving so many misfortunes, duty. in are not to occur in were originally suggested only by the appropriate number of public worship, we may presume, likely that but the world will look with asterisks : in the present edition, they have been placed as neighbourhood again; above, in brackets. Of some of the gentlemen themselves, curious, perhaps suspicious interest, on the now celebrated many a curious characteristic anecdote, if it were for edifica- scene, for many a generation to come. tion, could be related. Our space, however, must be otherwise p. 16. DEATH AND DR. HORNBOOK: This wonderful poem, ' occupied. The individual above referred to, subsequently Dr. which was written in the spring, or seed-time,' of 1785, as the Peebles, signalised himself afterwards by reprisals on the Author himself intimates, did not appear in the original Poet in an anonymous pamphlet entitled ' Burnomania,' now edition of his works. It was introduced for the first time to

. notice at rare, and curious for its illiberality and misjudgment. 'Water- public in the edition Edinburgh. The subject of the ' fit was a local designation for the town of Newton-upon-Ayr, satire, as is well known, was John Wilson, parochial teacher where the reverend gentleman was incumbent; but is printed in Tarbolton, and self-constituted administrator of medicine for the district a of excellent in both the early editions with a small letter, as in the text, ; man disposition, and irreproach- manifestly to disguise the reference to an individual. able character, but self-complacent possibly to an extent which the mirth or antipathy of Burns. Notwith- . XVI. While Common-Sense has taen the road, provoked An" aff, an' up the Cowgate standing the strange immortality conferred upon him by this fast that Fast, day. world-famous satire, he was an enthusiastic admirer of its Mr. Chambers mentions, on the authority of intelligent persons author, and has been known, in the very latest years of his in Mauchline, that Mr. Mackenzie, surgeon in the village, and life, to sing Burns's songs or rehearse his poems, with the a friend of Burns, had recently written on some controversial highest sympathetic appreciation of their beauty. Not long ' under the title of hence the after the of this satire left topic Common-Sense,' soubriquet ; appearance he Tarbolton, and

' ' and that on the day in question he was seen to leave the settled as a teacher in Glasgow, where he became Session-Clerk assembly and go off along the Cowgate on his way to Balloch- of the Gorbals, and died at an advanced age in the year 1839. myle, exactly as Peebles ascended the rostrum," and that to this The cause of his removal to Glasgow is said to have been a accident the passage refers. Mr. Chambers himself does not discussion with the heritors of Tarbolton about salary; but homologate this view. Such a thing may possibly have that the satire itself had rendered his continued residence occurred but ' in caricature or in ; Common-Sense,' earnest, there unpleasant, perhaps impossible, need hardly be ques- is an impersonation that Burns elsewhere employs with refer- tioned. Yet his therapeutic services, if modestly and carefully to than one ence more occasion, where Dr. Mackenzie could conducted, might have been of much importance in the village; not be and where his could never be and in the like present, presence imagined ; where, surrounding districts, anything regular it to is quite unnecessary, therefore, restrict the application medical attendance up till that period, and long after, was an of it to any individual whatever. advantage unknown. One gentleman we have heard of in

xxi. His talk o* \vhare devils that at that for H-ll, dwell, , neighbourhood, time, who, twenty years of Our vera " Sauls does harrow "* his life never saw a.physician fortunately did not require to Wi' fright that ! day see one but had no ; other immediate adviser in extremity, * Shakespeare's Hamlet. U. B. than the village shoemaker. Some personal pique at the and a few other distinct This, acknowledgments of obligations Freemasons' Lodge, as Gilbert distinctly tells us, lay, doubt- m "If LIFE AND WORKS [NOTES CRITICAL

c. s. 1. I was come round about the less, at the bottom, of the lampoon. These facts, with respect p. 17, 1, hill, An' todlin down on Willie's mill, &c. to it is Hornbook, are sufficiently notorious ; not, however, we The spot pointed out as the veritable scene of this believe, understood at all, that there was any antitype for imaginary encounter, is about half way between the old ' Danish Camp,' Dtath. By the same authority we are told, that it was one of or Justiciary Mound of Tarbolton, and the Parish Mill on the those floating apparitions that sometimes crossed Burns's banks of the Fail below, to which the descent is still steep, mind : but from a respectable resident in the neighbourhood, and must then have been difficult. The mill at that time was we lately learned, much to our surprise and amusement, that tenanted Mr. William one of Burns's oldest and there was believed to be a real Death as well as a real Horn- by Muir, " kindest friends, anda wonderful of sermons ;" of whom, book. "It was nae Death," said our respected informant, judge " and of his wife, in their friendship for the Poet, several inter- enlarging on the subject; Nae Death, but Hugh Eeid o' the esting reminiscences will be found in the Appendix. The Lochlans, he forgather'd wi' that nicht, abune Willie's Mill." " scene itself is most and in ' ' " admirably faithfully represented our But how do you know that ? How do I know ? The folk Illustration. On the hill in which the a' question, occupies about kent that, as weel's they kent they war leevin ; and middle distance, the open Courts of Justice, or Justice-Aires, Burns himsel kent wha it was fu' brawly. He was na sae fou, were regularly held the judges being seated on the upper- but he kent Hugh Eeid. Hugh was a lang ghaist-like body, most round; the jury and the criminals, and other parties wi' howe chafts, and sina' shank banes ; wha's deformities were the concerned, standing immediately below ; and general weel seen, for he wure short knee-breeks, and thin stockings, public around. The present high road sweeps round that hill and muckle shoon. Burns kent him in the moonlicht fu' brawly, on the opposite side from that on which the Poet would and syne caa'd him Death. We a' kent that." "But what said is in but his compass it, and not visible the picture ; footsteps Hugh?" "Hoot, him? He ne'er heeded!" Burns, if we may almost be traced between the steeple and the tree, in mistake not, had some slight antipathy, for reasons of his our in direction also so that the rencontre of that representation. own, Hugh's ; " " I Frien'! hae been ' ' ; mawin, which he himself notes as a in the Guid-een," quo' ye evening, explicitly reality When ither folk are busy sawin?" * seed time of afforded his satirical an 1785," powers opportunity * This rencounter happened in seed-time, 1785. R. B. of two-fold exercise, at one and the same moment. A curious correspondence in phraseology, to this, occurs in

c. s. 1. lies and nonsense baith to p. 16, 2, Great vend, two most opposite directions; with neither of which, at that Burns could have and with one of altered, in sabsequent editions of much later date, to date, any acquaintance, them, in all human probability, never. Thus A rousing whid at times to vend, ' And round about a' thae castels, a reading which is commonly preferred, and which will be You may baith plow and saw; And on the fifteenth of found in its place hereafter: [see Various Eeadings.] It is day May The meadows they will maw. possibly a little more forcible, but by no means so dignified "O hold your tongue, lady Marg'ret," he said, or All lies' are not " suggestive. 'great necessarily 'nonsense;' For loud I hear you lie ! ' ' ' ' nor all nonsense necessarily a lie : but ministers, in holy " And round about a" thae castels, rapture, have been known occasionally to utter and combine You may baith plow and saw : in both the simple and melancholy truth. Besides, original, But on the fifteenth day of May " The meadows will not maw! Proud Lady the climax rises from 'lies,' through 'great lies,' to 'great Margaret. lies and nonsense,' with addition of scriptural authority. The meadows of the Fail above Willie's Mill, flooded during Much, therefore, may be said on both sides. winter, were drained also, at a certain season in spring, in in June or s. 4. The rising moon began to glowr preparation for the hay-harvest, July. The distant Cumnock hills out-owre : Again, in the old Dutch Version, John iv. 39, To count her horns, wi' a' my pow'r, De een ende de ander : that I,set mysel; saeyt, maeyt is, ane and the ither maweth : But whether she had three or four, The saweth, I cou'd na tell. one of the best illustrations we could desire, of the original The moon, in fact, in that position, could have no horns at intimate connection of the Scottish language with the oldest full moon so that the and ridiculous error the Dutch. nil, being ; complex and simplest forms of of her horns, and not able to settle whether " whittle counting being s. 6. "Gudeman," quo' he, put up your ; d to its she had three or four, when by possibility she could only have I'm no design' try mettle; But if I did, I wad be kittle : two, and in had none, sufficiently indicates the supposed reality To be mislear'd, that Eobert condition of the observer. But whoever imagines I wad na' mind it, no that spittle Out-owre beard." Burns was that night the worse of liquor, must be hopelessly my misled by the vividness of his own description. The truth is, This stanza, in both the original editions, is punctuated thus : no tribute to his can be than this higher genius imagined, per- But if I did, I wad be kittle To be sistent belief in his dissipation, founded entirely on his most mislear'd, I wad na' mind it, &c., graphic but fictitious delineations. He writes in quaintest that to the character, and the world, to his own it on which Mr. Chambers observes, jtistly, according disadvantage, accepts " of the it is To bo all as a reality. The probability is, that that night he was not true meaning words, scarcely intelligible. kittle to be is not not in only sober, but in a temporary fit of very solemn, serious anger. mislear'd," indeed, only intelligible AND HISTORICAL.] OF ROBERT BURNS.

the unlike usual sense of the words, but extremely everything Such speats, or great river floods, seem to have been more else in Burns's syntax. The confusion seems to us to have frequent in the country about that date than now. By a arisen from an in the As we chiselled simply oversight punctuation. memorandum on the rocks at Bothwell Castle, it on to and the sense have ventured, conjecture, amend print it, appears that the Clyde rose in flood to an unprecedented and the syntax are both restored : height, March 12, 1782. Such overflows elsewhere were also

But if I did, I wad be kittle : i.e., dangerous : remarkable. To be mislear'd, i.e., to be rude, Compare Thomson's Winter I. 990. I wad na' mind it, no that spittle [Spits.]

Out-owre my beard ! The frost resolves into a thaw trickling ; Spotted the mountains shine loose sleet On any other supposition, we must not only do violence to the ; descends, And floods the country round. The rivers swell, sense of the terms, but that Death himself, so shrewd suppose Of bonds impatient. Sudden from the hills, O'er rocks and and civil, was no better than a constant slavering idiot. woods, in broad brown cataracts, A thousand " snow-fed torrents shoot at once ; p. 18, c. 1, s. 6. Wae's me for Johnny Ged's Hole now," " And where they rush, the wide resounding plain Quoth I, if that thae news be true ! Is left one slimy waste. &c. Ills braw calf-ward whare gowans grew, Sae white an' bonie It is not at all impossible that Burns's memory was familiar Nae doubt rive it the they'll wi plew ; with this " magnificent sketch ; but on the two They'll ruin Johnie ! examining pas- sages entire, it will be seen that Thomson's accumulated out- 'Johnny Ged's Hole,' the grave; the stomach of the voracious line does not contain one twentieth of the and fish; the inexorable maw of the pike that illacrimabilis Pluto. part activity vital force of Burns's picture. In Thomson, the whole scene The reader will observe the strange variation of orthography ' pauses and delays its action, to be in it between Johnny' and 'Johnie,' in the same stanza, which we described; Burns, breaks loose, and rushes its own carefully preserve. The terms themselves are not here neces- headlong, bearing description with it foaming on the surge, and with multiplicity and sarily applied to the same person; nor do they signify the same variety of desolation overwhelms and deafens the spectator. To one thing, whether so applied or not. Johnny indicates familiarity vehement objurgation in the of the 'Auld our Uni- and possible contempt; Johnie,, familiarity and affectionate lips Brig,' readers versity may remember a also in Horace : regard: without observing which, the exquisite humour and parallel p. c. 1, 1. 22. Nae an' tenderness combined, and yet distinct in a single breath, by 21, langer thrifty Citizens, douce, Meet owre a or in pint, the Council-house ; the mere selection of letters, would be lost. entirely But staumrel, corky-headed, graceless Gentry, The and ruin of the p. 19, c. 1, s. 1. But just as he began to tell, herryment country The auld kirk-hammer strak the bell Men, three-parts made by taylors and by barbers Wha waste weel-hain'd Some wee short hour ayont the twal, your gear on d d new Brigs and

Harbours ! Which rais'd us baith : I took the way that pleas'd mysel, Jam pauca aratro jugera regiae And sae did Death. Moles relinquent ; Per. The bell then beating one, Non ita Romuli

Mar. Peace, break thee off; look, where it comes again I Hamlet, I. i. Praescriptum et intonsi Catonis

Auspiciis, veterumque norma. Car. II., Ode xv. But, no : it will never come again ! What an interruption, Our still our fields and aposiopesis of provoking mystery, on the very verge of squares rise, decrease, And now the ploughs must rust in case ; revelation ! The schemes and the disappointments of Death, henceforth, shall be equally impenetrable. Was this by Romulus allowed '.' Was this the way our fathers showed p. 19. THE BRIGS OF AYR : This brilliant satirical fiction To rise to Empire, and extend our sway ? Creech. was written in the interval between the publication of the The whole in is like an Kilmarnock Edition and the Poet's appearance in Edinburgh. Ode, fact, although brief, antique of denunciation for the hero of the It was intended originally to grace the proposed second edition gem exasperated night. For an additional at Kilmarnock, which, however, was abandoned from want of correspondence, the student is referred to Car. III. xxiv. courage in the publisher. It is dedicated, with elaborate but The two aspirants to architectural still survive affectionate formality, to his friend and patron, Mr. Ballantyne, immortality in each other's but not intact. To the New then Provost of Ayr; and from the style of the dedication, one presence, Bridge, which was erected 1 from can 786-8, Eobert , hardly help surmising that the Author had some slight designs by Adams, Esq. a considerable addition in breadth has since been made and misgivings as to the genuineness, or at least the dignity, of ; the Old now from the of a another more important dedication to higher patrons in the Bridge, degraded dignity highway, has been for some time restricted to the of metropolis to wit., The Noblemen and Gentlemen of the use pedestrians. It both in this and in Caledonian Hunt. The poem itself is remarkable for three corresponds, other respects, very much to Dame over the Nith at Dumfries and things: (1) The beauty of its impersonations, the vividness Devorgoila's Bridge ; if of its and the of its was built also, we do not mistake, the charitable bene- descriptions, humour morals; (2) The by faction of two sister ladies. with Blind considerable intermixture of the English idiom, with the By comparison Harry, richest and most it would seem to have been somewhere between the sites of expressive Scotch; and (3) The singular these two or close in that that the fact, that it finishes without an appropriate close, and dies bridges, neighbourhood, immortal William Wallace was cast out from as away like a dream in nothing. prison dead, and thence rescued his nurse. From which p. 20, c. 2, 1. 13. Arous'd by blustering winds an' spotting thowes, by expressions In a torrent clown the snaw-broo rowes &c. occur in the Auld first it that the mony ; Brig's salutation, appears LIFE AND WORKS [NOTES CRITICAL

poem must have been written whilst the New Bridge was in services were sometimes interrupted and his people disturbed process of erection, and not yet "streekit owre frae bank to by a sudden influx of hearers from the Laigh Kirk, when the bank." We find in some recent editions a few variations on light of that sanctuary was absent, has been known on such the text, from different manuscripts unimportant and de- occasions to stop calmly in the midst of his own address, and " cidedly inferior, which the Author himself did not retain. exclaim Mak way, my Men's, mak way for the fleein host; " His own brief annotations, with a few additional words, follow. the Eidol's no at hame the day ! and then resume his services. The 'Ordination' in before : was written 1786, p. 19, c. 2, 1. 28. And down by Simpson's* wheel' d the left about early possibly * the for A noted tavern at the Auld Brig end. ecclesiastical ceremony itself took place, and appeared the first time in the Edition. The names, I. 33. The drowsy Dungeon-clock + had number'd two, Edinburgh proper

And Wallace-Tower t had sworn the fact was true : as a matter of delicacy, were all supplied by asterisks, and a have since been and one of t The two Steeples. [Both buildings removed, them, few unimportant notes appended by the Author, thus : the Tower, replaced by a handsome modern edifice with the same designation. c. s. ii. Cam in wi' Lauder The original lock and key of the old Dungeon or Jail of Ayr, objects of much p. 22, 1, Maggie ;* * antiquarian interest, are at present (1867) in possession of Thomas Cuthbert, Esq., Alluding to a scoffing ballad which was made on the admission of the late Burnock Holms, Ochiltree.] Reverend and worthy Mr. L to the Laigh Kirk. [Rev. Mr. Lindsay was mar- ried to a Margaret Lauder, by whose influence it was supposed he obtained that p. 20, c. 1, 1. 2. Swift as the gossj drives on the wheeling hare; benefice.] J The or falcon. gos-hawk, ix. vers. 22. c. 2, s. iv. How graceless Ham+ leugh at his Dad, t Genesis, ch. 1. 39. There's men o' taste wou'd tak the Ducat-stream, 5 s. iv. Or Phineasi drove the murdering blade, t Numbers, ch. xxv. vers. 8. ? A noted ford, just above the Auld Brig. s. iv. Or Zipporah,? the scauldin jad, ? Exodus, ch. iv. vers. 25. c. 2, I. 13. Or haunted Garpal|| draws his feeble source, c. s. xiv. To mother's p. 23, 2, ev'ry New-light || son,

|| The banks of Water is one of the few in the West of Scotland Garpal places is a in of for those || New-light cant phrase, the West Scotland, religious opinions ' where those fancy-scaring beings, known the name of Ghaists,' still continue by which Dr. Taylor of Norwich has defended so strenuously. pertinaciously to inhabit. * 24. THE CALF was a satire the ostentatious 1. 18. And from Glenbuck,^ down to the Eatton-key, p. provoked by * of a then and self-sufficient IT The source of the river Ayr. A small landing place above the large key. delivery young possibly preacher ; and was written, it is said, in Gavin Hamilton's at p. 21, c. 2, 1. 15. O had M'Lauchlan,+ thairm-inspiring sage, parlour, the close of the service in answer to a challenge on Mr. + A well-known performer of Scottish music on the violin [who, hi company with Matthew Hall, another great performer, in whose family the gift seems to be Hamilton's part, that such a thing could not be done. The used to travel over the West of Scotland, the con- hereditary, delighting highest reverend gentleman himself seems to have profited by the hint noisseurs with their melody. Montgomery of Coilsfield was about this time his so addressed to him. He tried special patron : with complimentary allusions to whom, to Mrs. Stewart of Stair, unceremoniously subsequently and to Professor Dugald Stewart of Catrine, the poem concludes.] his fortune as a pulpit orator in London, not without some success and let us and was installed p. 22. THE ORDINATION as a literary performance, is of consolation, hope ; finally a in It is curious much interest only in so far as it indicates the liberal tendency as minister of parish Ayrshire. enough, on satire is founded and advanced views of its Author views which are every day that the text which the was incorrectly reads as now receiving an accession of supporters, and are destined quoted by Burns. The verse in Malachi we have in it stands ultimately to obtain supremacy in the Christian world. Let printed it; but Burns's own edition "AndfAey the advocates of such views, in our church-courts to-day, shall go forth," &c. thank Eobert Burns devoutly for having borne the odium p. 24. ADDRESS TO THE DEIL : It is difficult, on so grand bravely of their first publication, and defied their adversaries an effusion as this, in which ridicule, solemnity, humour, to open combat with the only appropriate weapons of ridicule pathos, and philosophy, with the most consummate daring ' and scorn. Historically, the Ordination' is also a document and the purest charity, are all commingled, to say a word. of some interest, as a record of the state of parties at the It sounds like eternal teaching, and will go on to purify and for moment, and of the questions of ecclesiastical polity then liberate the priest-ridden human conscience generations centuries to come. That Burns was not unconscious of beginning to be seriously agitated, which resulted finally in and the disruption of the Established Church, and still provide his own tenderness and true Christian philanthropy, in this in so of and on the Prince topics of scandalous litigation many parishes and presby- marvellous outpouring expostulation pity teries within its bounds. Poetically, it is remarkable as an of Evil, is manifest from what is elsewhere said illustration of the Author's most caustic style, and of his He wad na wrang'd the vera Deil, That's owre the Sea inimitable gift of discomfiting antagonists by the quiet repro- of their views. It is not Eobert Burns so and that faith in the duction own much much less any human being purposely ; who here speaks, as the bigots themselves whose intolerance supreme goodness and infinite love of God was the foundation and the has thus conferred an of all in is as certain as that he the author he exposes ; poem immortality religion Burns, was of judgment on offenders who would have been otherwise of these lines. No more wonderful, or effective, or beneficial doomed to perpetual oblivion. The reverend incumbent, whose treatment of an idea that has engrossed and terrified the world is the theme of the lived to nor on such a installation satire, become a Doctor for ages has ever been vouchsafed ; any sermon of Divinity in much repute as a popular preacher in the "West, subject preached, that has so lightened the gloom of centuries. into whose history there is no occasion at present farther to It is the purest Christian philosophy in the quaintest and the inquire; and was sarcastically known, among some of his grandest fable, attractive, rich, and wholesome. Eor this more accomplished but less favoured brethren, as ' The Eidol.' purpose was the Son of God himself made manifest, that He of a man of much and the of the Devil and however much the One these, learning originality, whose might destroy works ; AND HISTORICAL.] OF ROBERT BURNS.

sense of decorum in some of us may be alarmed, such poetry Miss Aiken's possession, as "an odd, glowran, gapin callan, for the popular ear is the most efficient agency in that God- about three-fourths as wise as other folk." His name was like work of destruction a thousand times more efficient than Hugh Wilson. The poem itself was composed at the plough the loftiest conceptions of a mind like Milton's indicating, in that day, and rehearsed, nearly as it now stands, the same fact, a greater mind, by the very ease and daring with which evening. It is pleasant to reflect that this is one of the it is delivered. The accumulation of details, partly humorous poems which William Burness had the privilege of hearing, and partly superstitious, throughout the piece, is due no doubt ere he left this earthly scene; and that it afforded a worthy to the Author's acquaintance with traditionary lore, of water- foreshadowing of a reputation that was to be distinguished by &c. been tenderness and truth. kelpies, sprites, ; among which may possibly have included a Border ballad referred to Sir Walter Scott : but The in is by poem itself, composition, unequal ; and has more of this there is no evidence. It might as well be affirmed, on than one unfinished passage : but whether this is to be attri- the ground of mere similarity, that Eobert Burns at the age of buted to the Author's early inexperience as a writer, and the twenty-five, in the solitudes of Ayrshire, had been a diligent haste of its composition, or is in simple character, as reporting student of Montaigne. It was written, or composed, in the the speech of a perplexed and breathless dying beast, may in to afternoon of a winter day 1786, and rehearsed by Burns fairly be disputed. We incline to the latter supposition. his brother Gilbert next morning, as they went together with Burns's innate love of all animated helpless beings, and their their carts for coals. Let the reader compare with the two first supposed reciprocal attachment to him, are most beautifully verses of this 'Address,' Cantos XXI. and XXII. entire of interwoven throughout; and these correlative ideas of love Dante's Inferno (in which he will find many figures and and gratitude may be accepted, without hesitation, as the expressions almost identical, but which Burns certainly never characteristic features of his own life from the beginning to saw), and judge how far in tenderness, strength, and humour the end. Nothing but conscious benevolence in himself could these dozen lines surpass them both. Throughout the whole have suggested the idea of so much confidence, attachment, Inferno, in fact, there is scarcely one gleam of humour; and and gratitude towards him on the part of a dumb creature. from to end of that not a to beginning inspired work, thought p. 26, c. 2, 1. 15. O, bid him save their harmless lives be compared with the concluding stanza of this wonderful Frae dogs, an' tods, an' butchers' knives ! ' 'Address: or if a thought, then but the shadow of it An old story this as old as the days of Nathan the Prophet Tuttoche' maladetta questa gente and more than once reiterated in ancient Scottish song : In vera perfezion giammai non vada, There cam a tod to the Di la, pid che di qua, essere aspetta. Infer. Can. vi. bought-door, The like I never saw : Though ne'er to true perfection may arrive And ere he had taen the lamb he did, This race accurst, yet nearer then, than now,* I had lourd he had taen them a'. Cowden Knowes. They shall approach it. Gary. I. 35. An' no to rin an' wear his cloots, p. 25, c. 2, s. 3. Lang syne in Eden's bonie yard, &c. Like ither menseless, graceless brutes. This stanza, it appears, stood originally otherwise, which we See the 'Ordination' also, Stanza V., for the Poet's opinion on quote almost with reluctance on account of its inferiority: but such characters. This whole topic seems to have excited as editorial curiosity from the first has insisted on dragging always the strongest feelings of scorn and. rage in Burns's every concealed line to light, let the world have its reprint the in his self-command mind ; yet was very point which own Lang syne in Eden's happy scene, It When strappin Adam's days were green, was feeblest. was by no premeditation, therefore, we may And Eve was like bonie Jean my be sure of it, that he so sinned. dearest My part ; c. 1. 12. An' for thou'se blather. A dancin, sweet, young, handsome quean p. 27, 1, thy pains get my Wi' guileless heart. Our worthy English friend, who would interpret 'blather' p. 26, c. 1, s. I. Sin' that day Michael* did you pierce, here to be a 'long-winded harangue,' was certainly never * Vide MILTON, Book VI. R. B. [More exactly still, had Burns been aware present at a Martinmas ploy, or the blowing of a country of it, in DANTE, Inferno, Can, VII., football. 'blather' and as he la dove Michele school-boy's Besides, 'blether,' Fe" la vendetta del superbo strupo.] will find, are two distinct and distinguishable words. 27. THE ELEGY which is of a with the ' p. 26. DEATH AND DYING WORDS OF POOR MAILIE : This p. piece Dying Words,' both in and the intermixture of tenderness with charming little domestic idyl and fable, so beautifully humane style no further remark. It and human, is one of the Poet's earliest compositions; and, humour, requires contains, however, two lines which are and a little according to Gilbert's testimony, was written at Lochlea in confessedly imperfect obscure, and which have been not with a different 1782. It originated not in a real, but only an impending printed only punctua- tion in almost edition, but even with an alteration of the catastrophe, from which Hughoc's timely warning was the every text in some. With the utmost and not without means of saving poor Mailie. It appears that the lad's deference, doubt, we have them as here stand awkward look and gestures, in announcing the misfortune printed they to Burns and his brothers, had inspired the Poet with amuse- s. I. The last, sad cap-stane o' his woe's [is]

Poor Mailie's dead ! = violent death : ment as well as anxiety, which accounts for the half-ludicrous turn of the is 'unco mournfu' tale.' He stated by Burns to which we find parallels elsewhere sufficiently clear, thus in a brief note to have been "A herd callan;" neighbour Or lasses gie my heart a screed but is described in another copy of the piece, in the late As whiles they're like to be my dead, &c. LIFE AND WORKS fNOTES CRITICAL

The same sort of reading we venture also to propose in the like our old friends at Auchmleck; or the student over his two last lines midnight lamp, aspiring to degrees and fellowships imagine that all this has His heart will never get aboon philosophy been reproduced and broadened His Mailie's dead ! violent death. by an Ayrshire ploxighman, in a rude northern dialect If any reader, however, should doubt the propriety of this diversified by endless variety of observation, enriched with a punctuation, we respectfully reproduce the originals : geniality of humour of which Horace was utterly incapable,

The last sad, cap-stane o' his woes : sweetened with a tenderness of sympathy absolutely foreign

Poor Mailie's dead ! to his selfish Roman nature, and flooded with a harmony of articulation to which the efforts of his muse His heart will never get aboon ! highest polished His Mailie's dead ! never attained. Yet, in critical verity, the case is even so. Stanza VI. stood in original manuscript, by variation, thus Only where striking coincidences occur, shall we make actual the She was nae get o' runted rams, quotations ; but remarkable similarity referred to seemed Wi' woo like and like trams goats, legs ; to justify an annotation like this, on the subject of the Epistles She was the flower o' Fairlie lambs, and for the benefit of the student A famous breed generally; who may have ; Now Robin, greetin, chows the hams leisure or inclination to prosecute the inquiry farther, we O' Mailie dead. shall indicate the points of correspondence as we proceed. which the Author's even in good taste, however, superseded James Smith, to whom this epistle is addressed, was a his first edition. The only point for which the above is still Mauchline and there a calico man, linendraper ; subsequently worth is the allusion to if it be the preserving, Fairlie, where, printer at Linlithgow, in affectionate correspondence with the same William Burnoss was and in place, originally gardener, Poet still; and finally, after misfortunes at home, an emigrant connection with which the of Mailie and her two pedigree to the West Indies, where he died. The epistle itself, written lambs would a domestic interest for the Poet who have ; pur- in 1785, refers to some unfulfilled intention on the Author's chased the little one in a frolic. fleecy family day part, of immediate publication a subject on which we hope

c. . 4. Wae worth that man wha first did p. 27, 2, shape to throw some new and interesting light hereafter, in the That vile, wanchancie thing a raep ! &c. Appendix. In spirit, it is characterised by more than Horatian In Edinburgh Edition Wae worth the man .... abandon; and in execution, by the most felicitous ease: yet the But between the in its and the original strong emphasis, indifference that seems to prevail throughout was, after all, denunciation of the there is a Anacreon against usurer, but a transitory relaxation of the mind from anxieties and pain. and worth singular vivid correspondence observing: Burns, ere this, had been 'wounded,' as we know; and the

' oi tzuro was him to distraction. AiToXa/ra TT^CUTOS auras H0Xi/E4/, tpfiyai wound, though puny,' secretly driving O Tflv otp'yvpov &t\viffois* To *$i oXl.iifAia'Q s7jv, p. 28, c. 2, . 6. But why, o' death, begin a tale '.' A/a TtuTai oiix A/a Tovrot 01 fyiXovvri livin an' uOiXQos, Just now we're sound hale ; A/a TOVTOV ou rejects' EIS Then top and maintop croud the sail,

Heave Care owre-side ! Which we Scotticise for the occasion, thus may And large, before Enjoyment's gale, Wae worth that man wha siller bright Let's tak the tide.

Did first consider wi' ! delight Thus Horace, Musis amicus, tristitiam et metus His nae brither's to the fore wyte, ; Tradam protervis in mare Creticum folk to the door His wyte, auld gang ; Portare ventis; Car. I. Ode xxvi. murthers the His wyte, wars, [ding law] ; the Muses' And his wyte, what is warst of a', I, I, merry friend, Deliver all busie cares Lovers, like us, maun pine awa! TO LOVE. my

Unto the wanton wind ; Creech. p. 28. To J. S[MITH]: In these Epistles, of which the ! bitter toil an' p. 29, c. 2, *. 2. Alas what straining is the earliest in this the foundation present specimen edition, But truce with peevish, poor complaining ! in the of Is Fortune's fickle Luna waning ? of style is no doubt to be recognised models Hamilton, E'en let her gang ! and others : but a type of a much Ramsay, Ferguson, higher Beneath what light she has remaining-, kind, although certainly unknown to Burns, is recognisable in Let's sing our sang. of Horace. The metre itself most favourite with the Odes him, Of this sentiment numerous variations may be found in Horace : not the is similar to that of Burns although exactly same, very we select the following. Speaking of Fortune, he says in his but the similarity of style, in thought, in Epistles; Laudo manentem : si celcrcs quatit in sententious philosophy, in epigrammatic reflection, discur- Pennas, resigno quae dedit, et mea to Virtute me involve, probamque sive sally, converting themselves insensibly proverbial Pauperiem sine dote quaero. Car. III. Ode xxix. utterances, is so remarkable, that it could be fairly illustrated I her while she's kind can enjoy ; of entire only by parallel quotations passages. Such resem- But when she dances in the wind, And shakes her and will not blance is possibly unknown to ninety-nine in a hundred of the wings, stay, ' I puff the prostitute away : most devoted readers of either author respectively. The The little or the much she gave, is quietly resigned : or who in the Content with soul I arm humble peasant, busy tradesman, rejoices poverty, my ; And virtue, tho' in rags, will keep me warm. wisdom of his darling bard, suspects not that much similar Drt/dcn. wisdom may be found embalmed in the numbers of the Roman In the above, as in many other cases, the superior closeness is still less does the scholar with classic lore between Burns and Horace observable, to that between sa^e ; engrossed and his own most translators. the elderly gentleman at home, among his annotated volumes, Horace accomplished AND HISTORICAL.] OF ROBERT BURNS. 97

p. 29, c. 2, s. 6. While ye are pleas'd to keep me hale, Princess Amelia herself one, and the fairest, of these very I'll sit down owre my scanty meal, " " "blossoms and lasses " Be't water-brose or muslin-kail, royal dainty: Wi' chearfu' face, Unthinking, idle, wild, and young, As lang's the Muses dinna fail I and and and laughed, danced, talked, sung ; To say the grace. And, proud of health, of freedom vam, Dreamed not of sorrow, care, or pain ; Again, Horace to Apollo, as Burns here to the Powers, says Concluding, in those hours of glee, Me pascant olivae, That all the world was made for me. Me &c. Car. I. Ode xxxi. chicorea, levesque malvae, But when the hour of trial came, Me chicory and olives feed, When sickness shook this trembling frame, were Me loos'ning mallows nobly feast ; When folly's gay pursuits o'er, And I could sing and dance no more, Grant this, Apollo, and I ask no more. Creech. It then occurred, how sad 'twould be Were this world only made for me. Finally, of these parallels, take concluding stanza The Author's annotations are subjoined : v. 30, c. I, s. 4. Then, Jamie, I shall say nae mair, p. 31, c. 2, s. xi. There, him at Agincourt wha shone, But quat my sang,

Few better were or braver ; Content wi' you to mak a pair, And yet, wi' funny, queer Sir John,t Whare'er I gang. He was an unco shaver Horace, to Maecenas unwell For mony a day. * King Henry : + Sir John Falstatt' : see Shakspeare. Non ego perfldum s. stem and Dixi sacramentum : ibimus, ibimus, xni. A glorious galley,* stern, Weel for Venus' barter Utcunque proccedes, supremum rigg'd ; iter comites Car. II. Ode xvii. * Carpere parati. Alluding to the newspaper account of a certain royal sailor's amour.

[The same black day shall seize on both ;] p. 32. THE VISION : As this is a poem confessedly of It is a fixt and solemn oath : great We'll I've we both will in but as indicative of the go, sworn, go ; importance many ways, chiefly Tho' first begin the race, you may Author's character and prospects, or rather of his prophetic I'll follow with a nimble pace, instincts, we take the of here, And join you ere you reach the waves below ! Creech. may opportunity observing once for all (1) That Burns in early life, perhaps always, In stanza for The ramblin squad ; immediately before, ' ' was much addicted to passionate adjurations, and to rash Edition has The rattlin Edinburgh squad ; aiths," "by the celestial powers," "by a' yon starry roof," 30. A DREAM: More a is p. truly political prophecy, said, "by a' that's guid," "by heaven and earth," &c. indicating on various to have offence at and the authorities, given Court; not only the vehemence of his constitution, but his habit of Author was to withdraw it, some of his affectionately urged by involuntary devotion, bordering sometimes in his haste on most devoted friends, in vain. How little even Mrs. or Dunlop irreverence indecorum ; but by no means to be confounded or could measure his inheritance of understood his character, with either. This constitutional tendency was one of the fame or a like this from her show. Burns power, request may highest elements of his poetic nature. It brought him into treats His and the with no fami- Majesty Royal Family greater perpetual contact with agencies or principles beyond himself, nor less than he would have treated liarity, with faithfulness, and made the "oft-attested powers" the absolute arbiters of his and the Muses. Did courtiers or under- Apollo misunderstand, destiny. (2) That he was habitually prone to fling himself such a ? Their successors have lived value compliment may for relief on the future, and for satisfaction on possibilities; to comprehend it. Let the reader compare with this Address with or without reason in so doing. In some cases this re- entire Ode Ad Car. I. xiv. The cir- Horace's Rempublicam, sulted in the diviiiest practical prophecy, as in the very poem cumstances of the crisis are no means dissimilar, and the it the less form of by before us ; in others assumed dignified mere his remarkable. The fidelity of speech on part familiarity speculative risks, or calculation of the chances; and engendered ' ' alone is wanting but a reigning Family and an entire Com- the characteristic habit of wagering,' or wadding,' as the monwealth are different, and could not be addressed in ' ' ' &c. precisely case might be, boddles,' groats,' pleugh pettles,' ; a similar at Court in those terms. Nevertheless, gentlemen days, habit which he did not scruple, with the utmost familiarity, such admirers of the have detected who were classics, might to ascribe to Death himself. (3) That he was essentially the which is most and better resemblance, conspicuous ; known most observant and contemplative, and to all mere passing than to to estimate they seem have done, how the fearless indulgence, where passion or where intellect was not concerned, loyalty and courage of a self-constituted and pensionless most self-denied. His observation extended not merely to Laureate. To the poem itself ho adds only two brief notes, all natural and social phenomena to habits, customs, occu- which below. The events alluded to American facts but to and appear public pations, and important ; sounds, sights, and war, proposed reduction of navy, with additional taxation, &c., trivial incidents, to the amusements and the peculiarities of the and the domestic scandals of royal household, so freely and his neighbours in a word, to everything; yet, in none of affectionately handled, are too well known to require elucida- these latter did he take any farther concern, than to note tion here. The Laureate of the day was Thomas Wharton. them as realities in connection with human life, except where to his or touched the p. 32, c. 1, s. xv. God bless you a' ! Consider now, they appealed sympathies, strongest Ye're unco muckle dautet &c. ; passions of his soul. This phase of his character is illustrated A sweet enough unconscious commentary on this sadly pro- everywhere, but nowhere more beautifully than in the opening phetic stanza occurs in the well-known verses attributed to the stanzas of the 'Vision.' Of all imaginable field sports, those X LIFE AND WORKS [NOTES CRITICAL

of curling, and coursing, and fowling, are the most seductive to Campbell. Why, then, should not the compliment rather have of aware been thoroughbred Scotsmen, which Burns was, no doubt, ; transferred to her? Only one sufficient reason can be but these had no attractions at all for him, whatever Pro- assigned that Burns' s love for Mary Campbell was too fessor Wilson, in his celebrated Essay, without the slightest sacred, and Mary's own character too elevated and her fate evidence, may have assumed on the subject. On the contrary, too sad, to suffer him to associate any such publicity with her coursing and fowling, because they implied pain and the loss name. Both Jean and Elizabeth had compromised their own of life to abhorrence and so referred to without offence helpless creatures, he regarded with ; dignity already, and might be ; curling, although the most innocent and exhilarating, as well Mary, never: and Burns' s own sense of moral delicacy, as as scientific of all manly social amusements, seems to have been well as his profoundest love, prohibited the reference. Such a variety of idleness unsuitable to him. He heard (as one may silent omission is more eloquent than a thousand words. hear at the distance of a mile or two, in clear, calm weather) A-kin to this is that exquisite compliment of James the First the ringing noise, with cracks and shouts intermingled, of the of Scotland to the virgin English goddess, and subsequent did see it the other of his "roaring play," although he not ; on hand, Queen, idolatry " " he saw, but could not hear the maukin in her hunger'd And for to walk that fresche " Maye's morowe, raid on and would most Ane buke she had her tissew stealthy kail-yards green," probably upon quhite ; That bad not bene sene to have parted with all his garden stock, rather than disturb her. gudeliar forowe, [heretofore] " As I suppose; and girt she was alight : His all in occupation day had been the weary flingin-tree," Thus lowse for to such " halfling haste, delight, the dusty barn; and his solace now among hoast-provokin It was to see her youth in gudeliheid, That for rudeness to speke thereof I drede ! smeek," under the humble thatch, hearing and seeing all that King's Quair: s. xxx. was going on around him, was to speculate in lofty daring We have farther to note the moral united with mood on a destiny of poverty and renown possible only for a only modesty, the which characterises this remarkable few, and scarcely equalled in one for a thousand years. high prophetic instinct, the fine at so a of his own From expressions which occur at the commencement, it is piece ; discrimination, early date, and the of his his evident, either that this poem was written in the dead of genius probable sphere triumphs ; apprehen- his his choice of and his Christian winter, when frosts were intense and daylight closed "far in sions, regrets, destiny ; lofty on the the west;" or that the vision itself was a sort of real dream faith, and child-like dependence "with soul erect," finer could be which occurred at that season, and was afterwards committed, Universal Plan for protection. No peroration delivered from or from In in more elaborate detail, to writing a view of the matter any professorial chair, any pulpit. the ' Vision ' alone we have a whole which we suggest without hesitation. Such sort of visions, spiritual autobiography included with all the of and or, as the world would call them, hallucinations, were com- ; strange relationships Earth, Air, and Heaven combined with an individual human constitution mon with him. The poem, in its original form, is dated by ; and an forecast of the the and biographers early in 1786. It was written most probably in unerring temptations, sorrows, the achievements that were in store for the individual the spence at Mossgiel (not quite so poor an apartment, how- glorious man. The the the the ever, as here represented), and appeared in the Kilmarnock Morning, Mid-day, Gloaming, Night and the of an existence are Edition, in its simplest and most dignified form. A consider- itself, After-Night unprecedented here. able number of stanzas were subsequently added, with notes all prefigured The critical observations to be before by the Author himself, in his Edinburgh Edition, complimen- only made, subjoining the Author's that the idiom tary to the friends who patronised him there. These stanzas annotations, are, English prevails to a considerable extent in the ' and is with we have enclosed within brackets, and the Author's notes ex- Vision,' employed

wonderful effect in some of the finest ; that some of planatory will be found below. There was also another slight passages the stanzas introduced at seem to be change indicative of much, which we have bracketed also; Edinburgh unnecessary, and that for a fastidious or and, as it seems to us of in a moral or at least redundant; jealous greater importance point " " the the rustic occurs a little of view than all the rest, we shall remark upon it in a word. reader, Bard," Bard," perhaps too frequently throughout. A few additional complimentary p. 33, c. 1, *. 3. And such a leg ! [my bonie Jean] stanzas have since been discovered Mr. Chambers but Could only peer it. by these, most wisely, were omitted by the Poet. In the Kilmarnock Edition the lines stood thus Two curious accidental coincidences remain to be noticed : And such a leg, my Bess, I ween, taen her Could only peer it. p. 32, c. 1, *. 1. And hunger'd Maukin way To kail-yards green, The compliment itself was originally intended, it is said, for While faithless snaws ilk step betray but in of the Whare she has been. Jean Armour ; consequence misunderstanding which occurred with her in the interval, it was transferred to ...... The hare, and Tho" timorous of heart, and hard beset another ; afterwards, upon reconciliation, restored to her By death in various forms, dark snares, and dogs, But who was this other? we again. naturally enquire. And more unpitying men, the garden seeks, Without any direct authority on the subject, we need not Urged on by fearless want. Thomson's Winter: I. 257. hesitate much in saying that it was Elizabeth Paton, mother p. 33, c. 1, s. 1. Green, slender, leaf-clad holly-boughs round her brows of the Poet's illegitimate child. There was, in fact, no other. Were twisted, gracefu', ; But this interval of alienation from Jean during very Armour, There's the picture of a knight, and a ladye bright, Burns, as the world is aware, was solemnly betrothed to Mary And the grene hollin abune their brie. Border Minstrelsy. 3*

AND HISTORICAL.] OF ROBERT BURNS.

Author's annotations : to his pacify alarm, and propitiate his friendship. "Thomas Samson was of p. 32. DUAN FIRST.* one the Poet's Kilrnarnock friends a nursery * and seedsman of Duan, a term of Ossian's for the different divisions of a digressive poem. [Sec good credit, a zealous sportsman, and a good his ' vol. M'Pherson's Cath-Loda,' 2, Translations.] fellow." Chambers. He died, it appears, on the 12th of * c. s. 3. To see a race * heroic The Wallaces. p. 33, 2, wheel, December, 1795, about six months before the Poet himself.

s. 4. mark him well ! + Win. Wallace. His Country's Saviour,t He was then in his and as the seems seventy-third year ; poem Bold Richardton's t heroic swell ; to have been written in the autumn of he would be in The Chief on Sark? who glorious fell, 1786, his at t Adam Wallace of Richardton, cousin to the immortal preserver of Scottish sixty-fourth year the reading of his elegy. The epitaph Independence. has been inscribed on his tombstone in the churchyard of 5 Wallace, Laird of Craigie, who was second in command, under Douglas, Earl Kilmarnock. The stanza enclosed in brackets did not of Ormond, at the famous battle on the banks of Sark, fought anno 1448. That appear in the glorious victory was principally owing to the judicious conduct and intrepid original edition. On this stanza, James Hogg, who valour of the Laird of who died of his wounds after the action. gallant Craigie, speaks of 'Halloween' as a "rather trivial poem," and of the s. 5. There, where a sceptr'd Pictishll shade ' " Cotter's Saturday Night' as a dull, heavy, lifeless poem," II Coilus, King of the Picts, from whom the district of is said to have taken Kyle has a weak misplaced jubilant commentary, concluding with its name, lies buried, as tradition says, near the family seat of the Montgomeries ' "Match this who can?" fact the stanza is no of Coilsfield, where his burial place is still shown. [See Notes on Twa Dogs.'] The is, by means to in s. 6. Thro' many a wild, romantic grove, H equal many others the piece, and seems to have been an H Barskimming, the seat of the Lord Justice Clerk. after-thought altogether, infringing on the continuity of the s.1. With deep-struck, reverential awe,* original composition, and interrupting the quiet repose into Catrine, the seat of the late Doctor, and present Professor Stewart. which the exuberance of the satire was gradually sub-

p. 34, c. 1, s. 1. Brydon's brave Ward-i- I well could spy, + Col. Fullarton. siding. We have inserted it where it now stands, because it has been associated with the others from 1794 at but as p. 36. ADDRESS TO THE UNCO GUID was written probably least; a it be affirmed that what Burns in the spring of 1786, and is one of the most perfect of Burns's general rule, may deliberately omitted from a was and that subse- moral writings, for humour, charity, and truth combined. composition inferior; quent additions, even his own to A more beautiful blending of humour, with the purest charity by masterly hand, any finished were His first and wisdom, is perhaps not to be found in any similar compo- performance, rarely improvements. glance of theme was the and his sition, in any language. The very look of the Author's face any generally right glance, first finished effort was on the To one line may be descried, and the profoundest revelation of his perfection subject. in the we find a coincident elsewhere than in ' Habbie character, in these simple, but grand philosophic stanzas, as poem Simson,' and with which Burns, at the date of they roll along. It is a curious enough coincidence, and not to composition, ' could be familiar : be overlooked, that the 'Address to the Deil and this 'Address hardly

to the c. . 2. : Unco Guid' commence precisely in the same style p. 37, 1, To Death she's dearly paid the kane

Thou ! whatever title suit O wha are sae thee, | ye guid yoursel, I'd paid my kane seven times to hell

Ere been won ! Tamlane. Hear me, auld Hangie, for a wee, Hear me, ye venerable Core, you'd away An' let damned bodies be for poor ; As counsel poor mortals, The identical expression, however, occurs in Ferguson, with In one stanza alone, the sixth, commencing whom Burns certainly was familiar : Ye high, exalted, virtuous dames, Ac., Tho' they should dearly pay the kane, &c.Leith Races. there seems to be a little unnecessary harshness, and a little The Author's annotations follow : unnecessary license: but let none complain. A standard c. 1. TAM authority on such matters, before Burns, in a passage tenfold p. 37, SAMSON'S ELEGY.* * more dangerous and seductive, had the hardihood in his own When this worthy old sportsman went out last muir-fowl season, he supposed " it was to in Ossian's " the last of his be, phrase, fields ; and expressed an ardent polished way to make similar insinuations : wish to die and be buried in the muirs. On this hint, the Author composed his A delicate known to refinement, few, elegy and epitaph. Perplexed his breast and urged him to retire : But love forbade. in *. 1. Or great M'[Kinlay]* thrawn his heel ? Ye prudes virtue, say ; Or Say, ye severest, what would you have done ? R[obertson]t again grown weel, To an' read ? Damon and Musidora : Thomson's Summer. preach * A certain a favourite with the Million. Vide the Ordina- p. 37. TAM SAMSON'S ELEGY. The model of this admir- preacher, great tion,' [p. 22.] able was the ' Life and Death of jest unquestionably Habbie t Another preacher, an equal favourite with the Few, who was at that time For him see also ' stanza ix. Simson, Piper of Kilbarchan' a rude descriptive elegy, by ailing. Ordination,' no means destitute of but deficient in that charac- merit, p. 38. PER CONTRA. teristic vital humour which marks the relaxation of higher Thro' a' the streets and neuks o' Killie,* * genius. A man's epitaph may be thus inscribed with a ten- Killie is a phrase the country-folks sometimes use for the name of a certain town in the west. [Kilmamock.] penny nail on a tombstone, or cut with polished steel on monumental in is the difference granite ; which, fact, between In addition to the above, it may be observed, that although the two. The story of its composition, and of its first recital Burns himself was neither a sportsman nor a curler, he was in presence of the hero himself at some convivial meeting, are manifestly acquainted with all the terms and rules of such well known. During the recital, amidst roars of laughter, amusements, and represents them here with a humorous Samson " ejaculated repeatedly, Ou ay, but I'm no deid yet !" pictorial grace, not to be looked for in any more studied or The ' Per Contra,' in consequence, was produced immediately elaborate description. LIFE AND WORKS [NOTES CRITICAL

c. s. i. On Cassilis Downanst p. 38. HALLOWEEN was written most probably in the p. 38, 1, dance, + Certain in the of the ancient winter of 1785; and a sort of model has been found for it little, romantic, rocky, green hills, neighbourhood seat of the Earls of Cassilis. by Mr. Chambers, in a poem on the same subject, although in s. i. There, up the Cove,J to stray an' rove, different a Mr. John in Ruddiman's versification, by Mayne, called the as well t A noted cavern near Colean-house, Cove of Colean ; which, have Weekly Magazine for 1780. It is possible Burns may as Cassilis Downans, is famed, in country story, for being a favourite haunt of the fairies. in his looked at this composition, pretty much as the highest artist [A spot frequented, youth, by Burns.] s. ii. Whare Bruce ance rul'd the martial at his easel might look for a moment at some school-boy's 5 ranks, ? The famous family of that name, the ancestors of Robert, the great deliverei effort on a slate or drawing-board not otherwise. The scene of his country, were Earls of Carrick. itself is the immediate is in locality ' pre-eminently Ayrshire, c. s. iv. stocks' a' p. 39, 1, Their 11 maun be sought ance ;

most at Mount with a ' Kyle likely Oliphant friendly glance first of or of kail. II The ceremony Halloween is, pulling each a stock,' plant and the along the Carrick shore, in the direction of Turnberry They must go out, hand in hand, with eyes shut, and pull the first they meet

with : its or or is of size and Bruce's with which the ballads he had being big little, straight crooked, prophetic the land; traditionary ' shape of the grand object of all their spells the husband or wife. If any yird,' listened to in his from his mother's and those of infancy, lips or earth, stick to the root, that is 'tocher,' or fortune; and the taste of the his ' that the heart of the is indicative of the natural and the minstrel beggars, connected his imagination and custoc,' is, stem, temper disposition. Lastly, the stems, or, to give them their ordinary appellation, the memory. A whole early lifetime, impregnated and beautified 'runts,' are placed somewhere above the head of the door; and the Christian is at once with the superstitions of the soil, thus illustrated, names of the people whom chance brings into the house are, according to the of the ' the names in revived, and immortalised together. The Author's own notes priority placing runts,' question. s. vi. stalks o' corn 51 To pou their ; on this admirable idyl are sufficient : two correspondences only, IT and at three several a stalk of oats. in we think to They go to the barnyard, pull each, times, addition, proper quote. ' If the third stalk wants the top-pickle,' that is, the gram at the top of the stalk,

c. 2, . i. Upon that night, when fairies light the party in question will come to the marriage-bed anything but a maid.

On Cassilis Downans ' * dance, s. vi. When kiutlan in the fause-house' Or owre the in splendid blaze, lays, * When the corn is in a doubtful state, by being too green or wet, the stack- On sprightly coursers prance ; &c. builder, by means of old timber, &c., makes a large apartment in his stack, with Thus The it is night good Hallowe'en, an opening in the side which is fairest exposed to the wind : this he calls a will ' When fairy-folk ride ; fause-house.' And they, that wad their true love win, s. vn. The auld guidwife's weel-hoorded nitst At Miles Cross they maun hide. Tamlane. t Burning the nuts is a favourite charm. They name the lad and lass to each find this nocturnal more and as in the fire and Elsewhere we array minutely particular nut, they lay them ; according as they burn quietly together, or start from beside one another, the course and issue of the courtship graphically described : will be. of harvest on In the hinder-end All-hallow-e'en, ' s. xi. And in the blue-clue' t throws then, When our Good Neighbours dois ride, if I read right, Some buckled on a Bunewand and some on a Been, Whoever would, with success, try this spell, must strictly observe these

: Steal all to the Ay trottand in troups from the Twilight : directions out, alone, kiln, and, darkling, throw into the 'pot' it in a new clue off the old a clue of blue ; wind one towards the latter Some saidled a shee Ape, all graithed into green, yarn ; and, a hovand to the will hold the thread: "Wha hauds?" i.e. who holds' Some hobland on hemp stalk, hight ; end, something demand, The King of Pharie and his Court, with the Elf Queen, and answer will be returned from the kiln-pot, by naming the Christian and With many elfish Incubus was ridand that night. surname of your future spouse. to Polwart. Montgomery's Reply p. 40, c. 1, s. xiii. I'll eat the apple at the glass,? a alone to a ? Take candle, and go ; eat an before and In Stanza X., we have in the orginal, 'Hob in,' rhyming looking-glass apple it, some traditions should comb hair all the time the face of ' say, you your ; your con- with ' sobbin but the same name both ; appears distinctly jugal companion, to be, will be seen in the glass, as if peeping over your shoulder. before and after, and in the former case applied to the same c. 2, s. xvi. He gat hemp-seed,|| I mind it weel, as 'Eab.' There seems therefore to be an person, oversight Steal and sow a handful of || out, unperceived, hemp-seed, harrowing it with ' ' can draw after somewhere : but as the Author prefers Eab in these two anything you conveniently you. Repeat, now and then" Hemp- I I saw thee and seed saw thee, hemp-seed ; him (or her) that is to be true distinct cases, we have retained it in the present case also, for my love, come after me and pou thee." Look over your left shoulder, and you will reason alone. In Stanza the that XXV., grammarian will see the appearance of the person invoked, in the attitude of pulling hemp. 'Some "Come after me and shaw that observe a curious of different without traditions say, thee," is, show thyself; in which intermingling tenses, " case, it simply appears. Others omit the harrowing, and say, Come after me and and it must be admitted without but as necessity, advantage ; harrow thee." the words stand and so distinctly printed, . three invariably they p. 41, c. 1, xxi. To winn wechts o' naething ;5T remain. The stanza itself, otherwise, is remarkable for its 5! This charm must likewise be performed unperceived and alone. You go to

and both them off the if : great pictorial beauty. the barn, open doors, taking hinges, possible for there is danger, that the being, about to appear, may shut the doors, and do you some [PREFATORY NOTE BY AUTHOR.] mischief. Then take that instrument used in winnowing the corn, which, in our ' dialect, we call a wecht,' and go through all the attitudes of be well country letting The following Poem will, by many readers, enough understood ; but for down corn against the wind. Repeat it three tunes; and the third time, an the sake of those who are unacquainted with the manners and traditions of the apparition will pass through the barn, in at the windy door, and out at the other, country^ where the scene is cast, Notes are added, to give some account of the having both the figure in question, and the appearance or retinue, marking the principal charms and spells of that night, so big with prophecy to the peasantry employment or station in life. in the West of Scotland. The passion of prying into futurity makes a striking of the of Human in its rude in all nations s. xxin. It chanc'd the stack he faddom't thrice,* part history Nature, state, ages and ; and

it be some entertainment to a if such honour the Author * ' may philosophic mind, any Take an opportunity of going, unnoticed, to a bear-stack,' and fathom it with a to see the remains of it the more in our own. perusal, among enlightened three times round. The last fathom of the last tune, you will catch in your arms HALLOWEEN.* the appearance of your future conjugal yoke-fellow.

* c. 2, s. xxiv. Whare three lairds' lan's met at a burn,t Is thought to be a night when witches, devils, and other mischief-making are all abroad on their errands or is social to a beings baneful, midnight ; particularly those aerial t You go out, one more (for this a spell), south-running spring people, the fairies, arc said, on that night, to hold a grand anniversary. or rivulet, where "three lairds' lands meet," and dip your left shirt sleeve. Go to AND HISTORICAL.] OF ROBERT BURNS.

it Lie bed in sight of a fire, and wet sleeve before to dry. awake, and, but an hang your outside glow, with a little heat for chilly fingers on a some time near midnight, an apparition, having the exact figure of the grand winter and idle side of it. night, for idle ears, at the uttermost. object in question, will come and turn the sleeve, as if to dry the other gossip The 'Cotter's is full ' three are Saturday Night' of radiance and warmth, p. 41, c. 2, s. xxvn. The luggies' ranged ; t as the of three dishes clean water in foul water in and leave sanctuary God; where the tenderest sympathies of t Take ; put one, another, the dishes the third empty : blindfold a person, and lead him to the hearth where humanity may take refuge, and the loftiest aspirations of the are he the left hand : if chance in the clean water, the ranged ; (or she) dips by soul rise ; where the double vistas of time and of will to the bar of a maid if in the may eternity future (husband or) wife come matrimony ; foul, if iii it with no and the concerned in the welfare of a widow ; the empty dish, foretells, equal certainty, marriage converge, Deity himself, at all. It is three times and time the of the dishes repeated ; every arrangement his immortal creatures, seems to look in upon their humblest is altered. affairs through the screen of smoke and poverty. To read p. 42, c. 1, s. xxvin. Till butter'd sow'ns,? wi' fragrant lunt, lectures on the Author's morality and religion here, we hold to ? Sowcns, with butter instead of milk to them, is always the Halloween Supper. be utterly out of place and character. The man who coolly 42. THE AITLD FARMER'S NEW-YEAR MORNING SALU- p. questions these, within hearing of such harmony, must be TATION TO HIS. AULD MAGGIE referable to MARE, possibly essentially disqualified, by. some secret imperfection in his own the of is a with beginning 1786, purely imaginative colloquy, nature, for the society of the wise and the good. On one most beautiful touches, and still more beauti- many descriptive point alone we quote an exquisite parallel, with which, in all ful touches of both characteristic of the humanity, equally human probability, Burns had no acquaintance; but which Author's and of his innate benevolence of heart. The genius testifies, better than any argument could, to the inherent occasion of the address is of this : On peculiarly significant generosity and tenderness of both writers the royal and the

human inmate of the household - new-year's morning, every rustic bards : " enjoyed the "hansel bite and soupe" in cog or bicker," and p. 45, c. 1, s. x. Is there in human form that bears a heart s be of the in Burns' household, the dumb brute must partaker A wretch ! a villian ! lost to love and truth That can, with studied, sly, ensnaring art, universal hospitality; all the more* if that dumb brute had Betray sweet Jenny's unsuspecting youth ? been a servan'," or associated in with the "trusty any way Curse on his perjur'd arts, dissembling smooth ! higher joys of his own existence. "A righteous man," says Are honor, virtue, conscience, all exil'd? Is there no pity, no relenting ruth, Solomon, the life of his beast." There are "regardeth many Points to the parents fondling o'er their child? peculiar expressions in this poem, which we could wish much Then paints the ruin'd maid, and their distraction wild 1 to for reader here but for interpret the general ; conciseness' Thus Eobert Burns, the peasant in Ayrshire; and thus James I. sake must refer him to the Glossary. By any one who under- of Scotland, prisoner in the Tower of London, 360 years before : stands the language, a long series of the most perfect illustra- Fy on all such ! fy on thaire doubilnesse ! tions of rural life might be sketched from this poem alone. In Fy on thaire lust, and bestly appetite !

the first Line stands thus : Thaire wolfis in lambis likenesse Edinburgh Edition, hertis, ; Thaire thoughtis blak, hid under wordis : A guid dew-year I wish thee Maggie. quhite Fy on thaire labour ! fy on thaire delyte ! p. 43. THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT, written about the That feynen outward all to her honour, And in thaire hert her would denour. beginning of winter in 1785, and dedicated to his friend Eobert worship King's Quair : s. cxn. Aiken, Esq., is said by Gilbert to have been suggested to his Of Eobert to whom the immortal "is brother Eobert by the solemn invocation, commonly used in Aiken, Esq., performance dedicated who seems to have been of such Scottish households, at the commencement of domestic devotion ; eminently worthy " an honour, and to whom much of the most valued Let us worship God." The scene is manifestly laid in the correspon- dence of the Author was we shall have Cottage at Alloway, where "William Burness and his wife began subsequently addressed; more, and much that is hereafter to housekeeping, and where the Author himself and several other interesting, say. [See of their children were born but other are General Correspondence.] ; circumstances added, 46. To A MOUSE : The field, where the incident occurred to constitute the representation general. On the exquisite p. which occasion to this is still moral and poetical beauties of this immortal work, no criticism gave exquisite monologue, pointed and almost in the same condition as it then to the can any longer be required. Burns is said, by himself, to have out, was, * at written it with tears in his south-east of the steading Mossgiel, between the house arid eyes ; and the man who can read as a the high road from Mauchline to Rilmarnock. Some through it, even critic, without emotion, may safely be story has been current of the Author's or the pronounced unfit for the highest functions of his art. The reading rehearsing ' model of ' ' itself in the to the who was the work itself was The Farmer's Ingle of Ferguson, poem evening boy Blane, gads- ' man at the when the little as which the Ettrick Shepherd, alas ! seems to prefer. The exter- plough catastrophe happened, if for the of his It is certain nal resemblance of versification, and of some figures here and purpose obtaining approbation. be admitted but enough, that Burns did rehearse his there, may frankly ; beyond this, the whole occasionally compositions for the of friends and the scope, object, and execution, to say nothing of the spirit of the gratification ; boy may have heard two him so it that but more. poems, are entirely different. The 'Farmer's Ingle' has rehearsing evening nothing Blane, * in fact, seems to have been addicted somewhat to romance in Conversing with a boy who had read his Poems, Bums asked him which of them he liked best. The boy "liket the 'Twa Dogs' and 'Death and Dr. Horn- these matters; and when strictly catechised on the subject, book' weel; but he liket the 'Cotter's Saturday Night' better; but it made him could not maintain his own either in or " accuracy this, in cer- when his father it greet bade him read to his mother." At'weel, my callant," said " tain other statements to the domestic at Hums, laying his hand on the boy's head, it made me greet whiles mysel, when relating arrangements I was at the writing o't." Not difficult to believe : difficult rather, not to believe. Mossgiel, to which probably far too much importance has been LIFE AND WORKS [NOTES CRITICAL

attached in some quarters. The sweet, almost divine tender- . . . . The early village cock Hath twice done salutation to the morn: Rich. III., v. iii. ness, and prophetic foresight of this wonderful composition p. 48, c. 1, s. 4. But deep this truth impress'd my mind have secured for its author the universal admira- sympathetic Thro' all His works abroad, tion of mankind. Only one weak line The heart benevolent and kind

The most resembles God ! I'm truly sorry man's dominion This, reverend and reverend friends, is it not a sermon for occurs in the whole of it; but the affectionate condescension of right some of us who have been too accustomed to the speaker, as if accommodating his language to the capacity of long perhaps anathematise one another? "The Lord is to all," says his tiny "fellow-mortal," is no doubt the just explanation of it. good ' ' " ' ' David, and his mercies are over all his works : yea, Blessed p. 47, c. 1, s. 2. Still thou art blest, compared wi' me ! are the a still "for shall The present only toucheth thee : merciful," says higher authority, they " och ! I backward cast e'e But, my obtain mercy : which has been rehearsed again in another On prospects drear .' poetical form, not without the consciousness of imitation per- An' forward, tho' I canna see, ' I guess an' fear haps, by one nearer our own time, the man Coleridge He who loveth best How different from the poco-curante, Horatian Epicurean senti- prayeth best, Both man, and bird, and beast. Ancient Mariner. ment in the Epistle to Smith When were these stanzas indited ? In the winter, mid -winter, An anxious e'e I never throws

Behint or nose : &c. most of 1785 : but who where or when? my lug, by my ; likely, cares, Thoughts and words like these are from but let any reflective reader judge for himself which of the two everlasting. 48. EPISTLE TO DAVIE, A BROTHER POET : This declarations, though, in relation to circumstances, they might p. glorious effusion of and which was the both be true at different moments, was most in accordance with melody, wisdom, love, among earliest of Burns's in the winter the man's moral constitution and the sad realities of his antici- epistolary efforts, being written of 1784-5, was addressed to one David Sillars, who in another pated fate. He confided, in fact, to the hearing of a mouse, a of the as Mr. Chambers mentions, is designated deeper secret in his own destiny, than he would to the most copy poem, "A brother Poet, Lover, and Fiddler." He was acceptable and cherished of all his boon companions ! Ploughman, the lover, in fact, of a girl named Orr, in domestic p. 47. A WINTER NIGHT consists of three unequal parts, Margaret service with Mrs. Stewart of Stair; which accident the beginning, the middle, and the end or the strophe, the through Burns himself obtained an introduction to that who antistrophe, and the epode, or conclusion of which the first lady became his own friend and as we shall and the last correspond to one another, representing the Author subsequently patroness, hereafter learn. The epistle itself, so remarkable for the himself directly; and are infinitely superior to the middle part, of its sentiments, and the ease of its com- which is in the English language, and avowedly in imitation dignity surpassing is remarkable also for another circumstance that of Shakspear. The introductory stanzas, although slightly position, solemn for Jean's temporal and eternal happiness; disfigured by some inequalities of syntax, are replete with a prayer which breaks in, like a flood of invocation in a foreign lan- poetic beauty and an almost inexpressible tenderness of feeling, the of before and after, to which we know of no parallel in any language; and the guage, through rapid continuity speech, in the native This so heartfelt and beautiful, concluding stanza alone is worth a hundred homilies on charity tongue. prayer, is followed, in the text of his works at least, a flood of de- and the grace of love. Do not all intelligent men, who can by in the next ' On the Unfortunate Issue read or write on the subject, say the same ? spondency very poem, of a Friend's Amour,' and "faithless woman's broken vow;" c. 2, s. 1. Ilk happing bird, wee, helpless thing ! That, in the merry months o' spring, where the anguish of disappointment seems to deprive him of Delighted me to hear thee sing, all in the world; a feeling which re-appears, but with less What comes o' thee ? hope ' ' is fast : this Whare wilt thou cow'r thy chittering wing, intensity, in The gloomy Night gathering again An' close e'e ? thy gives place, in a few pages, to the language of indifference and God bless thee, Eobert Burns, wheresoever thou now art, for a scorn, with reference to the same personage, in the prospect of thought so exquisitely kind; and for glorifying the Scottish his own self-banishment for her sake, or through her offence such tenderness as this his at language, by embalming among its A Jillet brak heart last, 111 may she be! [p. 60.] rude and solemn accents ! How feeble, after an apostrophe which sentiment of aversion is swallowed in the like this, sounds the eloquent philosophy of Cowper ! finally up of The long protracted rigour of the year very ecstasies music and love, with which he welcomed this Thins all their num'rous flocks. In chinks and holes same mistress of his affections and of his home into Nithsdale : Ten thousand seek an unmolested end, O were I on Parnassus' hill ! &c. As instinct self-buried ere die. prompts ; they Task : Book V., /. 85. Between the despondency and the scorn, however, the solem- c. s. 3. I heard nae for Chanticleer p. 48, 1, mair, nising and purifying influence of Mary Campbell's love occurs, Shook aff the pouthery snaw, of which we have no trace whatever and of which we And hailed the morning with a cheer, here, A cottage-rousing craw. seek in vain for any glimpse in present circumstances. That Beattie, at such an interruption as this, would have been in an effusions at this date dedicated to her were in existence, we ecstasy of horror. Burns had no antipathies in the world but come by and by to learn; but such revelations were not made ' rogues, fools, and tyrants. Shakspear's allusion to the cock, till near his own death, or after it. To Mary in Heaven' was for descriptive beauty, will not bear comparison here the first public avowal of this absorbing grief: for what was AND HISTORICAL.] OF ROBERT BURNS. 103

actually written at the moment concerning it, men must wait. was intended more as a philosophical effusion, than as a per- But in the four epochs now alluded to, all thus distinctly sonal complaint, by its Author. It is, in fact, the result of recorded with their varying sentiments and passions from the constitutional melancholy and of partial observation, not un- to and to fact a modernised metrical edition of the sorrows deepest devotional love, to despondency, scorn, again justified by ;

in reconciliation the silent interlude of unutter- of Job and the semi-discontent of Ecclesiastes : nor need such ecstasy ; with able sorrow we have an involuntary revelation of the Author's authorities complain at all, that their philosophy has been inmost life, so far as the world at that date had any right to thus adopted by a commentator like Robert Burns. know it; and which should satisfy the most inquisitive inquirers p. 54. WINTER: a Dirge is but the reiteration, with de- into that mystery, for the time. It is for this, as we have scriptive adjuncts, of the same oppressive thought; to which already intimated, among other reasons, that we prefer to (p. 54) A PRAYER IN THE PROSPECT OF DEATH: with STAN- as adhere to the Author's own arrangement of his poems they ZAS ON THE SAME OCCASION (p. 55), of a much earlier date, as appear, after such events, in the Edinburgh Edition. far back as 1784, follow by his own arrangement immediately

. in indi- p. 48, c. 2, i. While winds frae aff Ben-Lomond blaw, succession as they stand; and, together with the rest, And bar the doors wi' driving snaw, cate the continued prevalence of anxiety and pain, verging on And hing us owre the ingle, &c. ' distraction, the entire epoch of his youth. Man was Vides ut alta stet nive candidum through made to seems to been an old Soracte, nee jam sustincant onus Mourn' have suggested by ' ' Silvae laborantes : Hor. Car. I. Ode ix. recital of of his mother's, entitled The Life and Age Man ; See how Soracte shines in deep-laid snow, and is stated, on some local authority, to have been composed And labouring woods are bowing low : &c. in the holm at Barskimming Old Bridge on the Ayr a sweet, But let the reader compare, at his leisure, the entire heathen deep shaded spot. 'The Prayer in the prospect of Death' was Ode with this magnificent, almost divine Epistle. extorted by the strong alarm occasioned by nightly palpitation "Mair nor fear R. B. spier na, na," Ilamsay. of the to which he was but which ne'er heart, always subject, Auld-age mind a feg ; after his residence at The last o't, the warst o't, occurred with great violence shortly Is but to only beg. Mossgiel; and the 'Stanzas on the Same Occasion' embodied as the case That is, as an itinerant minstrel, or story-teller, the anguish of his soul for a moral irregularity, the first

this find elsewhere : might be. But higher parallels than we transgression of his life, which could no longer be hidden from

Be careful for nothing; but in everything by prayer and supplication, with the world. Written at a time when the world as yet knew let be made known unto God : and the peace of thanksgiving, your requests God, nothing of the case, these verses are indicative of a contrition which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Jesus for that in the mouth of other or Christ. Phil. iv. 6, 7. sin, any confessor, young old, would be attributed the most to the p. 49, c. 1, s. iv. What tho', like Commoners of air, by scrupulous judges We wander out we know not where, influence of the Holy Ghost: St. Augustine has nothing But either house or hal' 1 finer. We venture to affirm, however, that no reader can fully Jesus said unto birds of the air nests And him, Foxes have holes, and have ; the depth of inward embodied in such lines, but the Son of Man hath not where to lay his head. Luke ix. 58. comprehend agony who has not seen and studied that wonderful likeness of the Let these suffice by way of interpretation. The whole epistle, man himself, when actually approaching death. What the in fact, is but a metrical adaptation, in the simplest and suffering of his lifetime must have been with such a constitu- grandest style, of the loftiest precepts of Christian philosophy. tion, no uninitiated soul can imagine. A perpetual warfare it In its rough draft, it was rehearsed by Burns to his brother was, between the flesh and spirit, and perilous conflict for ever Gilbert in the garden at Mossgiel, and first suggested com- raging between the animal and almost angelic principles of the parison of the Poet's unpublished works with Ramsay's. The man. This is indicated from the beginning in a hundred second Epistle to Davie was published by Sillars himself, in the casual sentences, but nowhere so distinctly or so painfully edition of his poems at Kilmarnock. Like the third Epistle to enunciated as here. As a matter of mere criticism, it may be Lapraik, it will not bear comparison with the first, but will be observed, that in such pieces as prayers and translations, his found among the posthumous works of the Author, in its place. language is not always up to its own highest level; but there p. 50. THE LAMENT refers so manifestly to his own cir- are one or two lines in the 'Stanzas' where certain involu- cumstances after his from Jean and the separation ; expressions tions of thought appear, which indicate the conscious latent which occur in it point so distinctly to the avowed relationship power, and future mastery of the most difficult expression : of marriage between them, that no farther commentary on this for example sad soliloquy is required. In any other view, it were a sham full ? p. 55, c. 1, s. 1. Have I so found it of pleasing charms lamentation, utterly unworthy of its Author.

p. 51. DESPONDENCY: an Ode; and the stanzas addressed s. 3. if I may dare a lifted eye to Thee, &c., To BTJIN: seem to have been written about the same (p. 58) which, in an earlier manuscript, stands thus date, and are characterised the same sentiments of by personal If one so black with crimes dare on thee call. anguish and despair, originating doubtless in the same or In a much later edition the line similar causes; but s.3. For all unfit I feel my powers be, p. 52. MAN WAS MADE TO MOURN: a Dirge which appears a in connection with them, was a much earlier composition, re- was extended and weakened by the addition of syllable^ ferable to a date at least eight or ten months previous; and For all unfit I feel my powers to be, LIFE AND WORKS [NOTES CRITICAL

another instance in which second thoughts by the Author altered in subsequent editions to were no improvement on the first. Wi' spreckl'd breast,

55. : c. s. 3. p. VERSES a Prayer for a reverend friend's house- p. 57, 2, And whelm him o'er ! hold, are in strange and beautiful contrast with such outpour- Corresponding use of a compound term may be found in of ings supplication for himself. In these, the reader will Shakspear :

observe the whole strain of petition, and exercise at the throne Macb Can such things be, And overcome us like a summer's of grace is altered. He intercedes now, not for himself as a cloud, Without our special wonder ? Macbeth, III., v. sinner, but for those who in his humble belief were already p. 58. To Miss WITH BEATTiE's POEMS : Burns children of God. Hence his confidence and boldness on their L[OGAN], seems to have been a sincere admirer of Beattie's genius as a behalf, because he "makes intercession for saints, according poet and as is testified the allusion to him both to the will of God." In most the philosopher, by significant juxta-position, ' ' in the Vision and in the ' to ' the Epistle Lapraik ; compliment, arrangement of his own hand, come the whole of these early although doubtful, which occurs in the 'Ordination,' where devotional pieces: and let us no longer, after reading and Common-Sense is gaun, she on the of Burns. says, reflecting them, question religion Eobert To mak to Jamie Beattie The family here referred to was that of the Rev. George Lawrie, Her plaint this day. of Newmilns from Burns had seems to indicate that his as ; whom enjoyed much beautiful views a theologian also were not and unexpected hospitality. Mr. Lawrie himself, as a literary distasteful. The lady here referred to was a sister of Major man and a critic of discernment, had already been instrumental Logan's the "thairm inspirin, rattlin Willie" to whom an had been in promoting the publication of Ossian, and was now anxiously epistle previously addressed by the Author. engaged in forwarding the prospects of our youthful Author, p. 58. EPISTLE TO A YOUNG FRIEND was addressed to a whose Kilmarnock Edition had attracted his attention. He it son of Mr. Aiken's, the early friend and patron of the Poet, to was who introduced Burns's name to Dr. Blacklock, who in whom the 'Cotter's Saturday Night' was inscribed. Accord- turn communicated, at Lawrie's request on his behalf, with ing to Mr. Chambers, "the late Mr. Niven of Kilbride, the of Dr. Blair. Burns's relation to the family, in consequence of 'Willie' the Kirkoswald anecdotes, alleged that Burns ad- these attentions, assumed the character at once of affectionate dressed this epistle to him." Of this gentleman's connection and with shall find respectful friendship, as may be seen by his subsequent Burns, we more hereafter to say in Appendix. On the occasion It is indeed he a to dis- correspondence. immediately in question (as very likely might urge claim such a learn from it is we Gilbert Burns), the evening had been spent with tinction; but extremely unlikely that Burns would throw much innocent hilarity, in music and dancing, as seems to have away such an epistle on an acquaintance whose own worldly been the wont at Loudon Manse; and Burns is said to have sagacity so little required it. c. s. in. I'll no men are villains heard the sound of a spinnet there for the first time in his p. 59, 1, say a';

I said when I was in All men are liars : shall I life. Next morning, being late for breakfast, Mr. Archibald my haste, what render unto the Lord for all his benefits towards me. Ps. cxvi. 12. Lawrie was sent to for him. 11, inquire He replied affectionately Stanza V. on the of self that he had , propriety -hiding from indiscriminate slept but little, having been engaged during the observation, has been a good deal criticised by some, we think most of the night in prayer; and that his petitions would be undeservedly: but surely stanza VI., on found lying on the table. The manuscript of the 'Verses' The sacred lowe o* weel-placed love, was accordingly found there. The date, by careful com- is criticism. Let reader in which Mr. Chambers beyond every again refer to it; let parison, exerts his usual diligence, every youth inshrine it, as a most precious golden maxim, in seems to have been the 29th or 30th day of August, 1786. his soul. Horace, in very nearly the same terms, as if he had [See Note on Songs.] been epitomising both stanzas, but with what an inferior sense p. 57. To A MOUNTAIN DAISY : Written about six months of moral and religious consequences, says later, but most probably in the same field where the address

' ' Quidquid To the Mouse had been Wordsworth's habes, age, composed. sympathies Depone tutis auribus. Ah miser, seem to have been profoundly excited by this and similar Quanta laborabas Charybdi ! Digne puer meliore flamma. moral effusions of our Author, particularly as foreshadowed they Quae saga, quis te solvere Thessalis the of the writer. Sacred destiny enough, indeed, is the ver- Magus venenis, quis potent Deus ? Vix te triform! dure of the soil that was text for such a prophecy. illigatum Pegasus expediet Chimera. Car. I. Ode xxvii. Man that is bora of a woman is of few days, and full of trouble. He cometh Thus Horace, at a 'bout,' to his friend: of forth like a flower, and is cut down : he fleeth also as a shadow, and continueth drinking young not. Job xiv. 1, 2. which the only tolerable, yet most inadequate translation we can is Francis Allan Cunningham states, on the authority of a manuscript in find, by Then in his hands, that the original title of this poem was 'The Gowan;' safely whisper my ear, For all such truths are sacred here. and that the Author changed both that title and the spelling Ah worthy of a better flame !

of his name about ! is own the same time. Possibly: but there Unhappy youth she the dame ? ! how art thou to be no all Unhappy youth lost, seems connection at between the two facts; and In what a sea of troubles tost ! from 'The Gowan' to the 'Mountain Daisy' was a beautiful What drugs, what witchcraft, or what charms, What God can free ? change at all events. thee from her arms Scarce Pegasus can disengage c. s. 2. p. 57, I, Wi's spreckl'd breast ! heart Thy from this Chimera's rage 1

VCXJS^T x

AND HISTORICAL.] OF ROBERT BURNS.

Such is the of the does this nearest approach illustrious Eoman lyrist commencement show, not only to the wretched to "the but sublime of Eobert Burns." stuff in simple morality We nauseating the shape of begging epistles, full of lies need not pursue this argument farther. If farther, then; in and self-degradation, prefixed to every volume almost of verse Horace at we come on unreadable or in Burns's least, totally ground. prose own day; but to the finer flattery of a higher Andrew Aiken, it appears, after being some time a merchant kind, from the lips of men like Pope and Horace. in was Britannic at Liverpool, appointed Consul Higa, where if Awake my St. John, leave all meaner things

To low ! he enjoyed the highest social distinction, and where he died, ambition and the pride of kings Essay on Alan. October, 1832. His only surviving child, P. F. Aiken, Esq., Maecenas, atavis edite regibus, et O presidium et dulce decus meum ! Car. is now a banker in Bristol. The 'Address' seems to have been Maecenas, born of royal blood, written in May, 1786. The original was gifted Mr. Aiken, by My joy, my guard, my sweetest good I Francis. we are to an intimate friend of in told, personal his Liverpool ; In Kilmarnock Edition, the passage beginning "But then, and is now said to be in of a un- " possession gentleman (name nae thanks to him for a' that concludes with triplet, thus : known) in Ayrshire. A duplicate, in Author's handwriting, c. I. 25. p. 62, 1, It's no thro' terror of D innation : is also in existence which rise to Mr. ; may possibly have given It's just a carnal inclination

And ! Niven's claim. och that's nae regeneration '. both p. 60. ON A SCOTCH BARD, GONE TO THE WEST INDIES : scriptural words being printed almost entirely blank.

this p. 62, c. 1. 30. For I We reserve the discussion of West Indian project, with 2, prayin, hae little skill o't : I'm baith dead-sweer, an' wretched ill previous prospects of publication as already hinted, for the o't; as if it had been Appendix. The reader may also refer, for a moment, to our literally translated from the Latin,

' remarks on the to Parcus deorum cultor et Hor. Car. I. xxxiv. Epistle Davie.' infrequens ; and p. 61. To A HAGGIS needs almost no commentary at all, yet this was a reproach upon himself, which was far from except on the single line, being justified by the fact. His prayers, as the conductor of

Then, horn for horn, they stretch an' strive : family devotion at Mossgiel, were not only the most earnest and but the richest and which is descriptive of the occasional awkward, but exciting heart-felt, most eloquent ever heard the inmates or contest, of supping together with horn spoons from one central by there, by any who were privileged to join with them in such dish on the table. Hence the proverb, pithy and true enough services.

63. To A LOUSE : This He should hae a lang-shankit spune, that sups wi' the Deil. p. immortalisation of an unlucky

' in which no real blame after all p. 61, c. 1, s. 4. Bethanket' hums. incident, might be attachable " " to the fair one (as all must be aware, who have found them- Bethanket," denned in Author's glossary to be grace after " selves in was meat: in reality, it is but the devotional sigh of satisfaction ill-swept churches), solemnly protested against in vain the Poet's most affectionate advisers. The com- after a hearty meal. In concluding stanza, the word in by of it was a little and it brackets was an after-thought, or more probably a correction. position prompted, perhaps, by spleen, was written in Gavin Hamilton's it is In the Edinburgh Edition it reads 'stinking,' which may .parlour, said, during the interval between sermons ; and have been allowed fairly be considered a typographical mistake. The poem, it might to drift : but the Author had a moral appears, was first published in the Scots' Magazine of 1787. away forgotten ingrafted on it that could never die, and he was right to resist all im- where the concluding verse, entirely different, stood thus : its is Ye Powers wha gie us a' that's guid, portunity against publication. There one singular and Still bless auld Caledonia's brood beautiful moral trait in this strange sonnet, which we do not Wi' great John heart's bluid Barleycorn's know has been hitherto remarked that the verses them- or viz., In stoups luggies ; selves are And on our board the King o' food, addressed to the Louse and not to the Lady. A glorious Haggis i 64. p. ON THE ADDRESS TO EDINBURGH his first poetical 61. A DEDICATION TO for p. G[AVIN] H[AMILTON], ESQ., effusion, apparently, after his reception in the metropolis, a and manliness, is of ten times more remark shall here suffice it dignity, honesty, worthy simple ; and is on the curious, but extended notice than our space will afford. Burns was under not unnatural change in his sentiments towards mankind and many obligations to this early friend and benefactor; but the the world, which took place with his altered circumstances. between them does not seem in the In his relationship slighest degree epistle to W. Simpson, which was written about a year to or to been have affected, have intended to affect, the moral and a half before, we have, in allusion to Ferguson's fate of the Author. Burns's independence relationship to the My curse upon your whunstane hearts, Caledonian Hunt, and the formal dedication of his works to Ye Enbrugh gentry ! that doubtless as well as distinguished body, although excusable, are scarcely so sincere, vehement enough. Nor did his admiration for pleasant to contemplate. Ferguson, or the sense of the neglect under

c. I. 1. which that 2, Expect na, Sir, in this narration, gifted youth had suffered, ever decline : but his own A fleechan, fleth'ran Dedication, experience of the world's favour had not yet begun. When To roose you up, an' ca' you guid, that is An' o' an' noble bluid realised, we have naturally a different strain sprung great ; Because ye're surnam'd like His Grace, Thy sons, Edina, social, kind, Perhaps related to the race : With open arms the stranger hail : &c. Gavin in an Hamilton, fact, represented elder branch of the But Burns, even in Ayrshire, should have remembered that race, and did not to so. But what a noble contrast ' ' a scruple say prophet is not without honour, save in his own country Y 10(5 LIFE AND WORKS [NOTES CRITICAL

and in his own house." Burns's situation in Edinburgh, in that is, in harvest, when so much of the labour, as we have fact, and his celebration of its hospitalities and favours with seen, depended on himself, even as a boy. his of the are so similar to in prospects future, Virgil's Eome, p. 67, c. 2, s. 7. O Thou wha gies us each guid gift ! Gie me o' wit an' sense a that one can hardly forbear referring to the well-known lift, from Eclogue in which the rescue of the shepherd from obscurity, Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down the Father of Lights. James i. 17. and the patronage of Augustus are so devoutly sung; p. 68, c. 1, s. 2. Were this the charter of our state, Scotia's " Edina, darling seat, On pain o' hell be rich an' great," All hail thy palaces and tow'rs ! Much otherwise, indeed, is the divine charter; Urbem quam dicunt Romam, &c. Ed. I. /. 20. For the love of is the of all evil while some coveted money root ; which after, The pastoral prosperity foreshadowed in the one case, it is true, they have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many SOITOWS. I. Tim. vi. 10. did not precisely harmonise with the farming speculations and s. 4. The o' the miserable gaugership in the other: but there was an followers the ragged Nine, Augustus on the one hand, and a Caledonian Hunt, and above altered in Blackie's edition, on what authority we know not, to all a on the other the difference Glencairn, great although The ragged followers o' the Nine between them be to of : might whom corresponding vows by which a loss of sense occurs. The idea is not that the Poet gratitude arid- attachment, in almost identical terms, are still and his friends were ragged followers of the Muses, but that before the world. the Muses themselves had never much to boast of in the way p. 65. THE EPISTLE TO J. L[APRAI]K, and that which fol- of worldly wealth, and were sharers together with their most lows, to W. S[IMPSO]N, belong to the period between 1784-86, gifted sons in dilapidation and poverty. remarkable for such a flood of harmony and wisdom of which s. 6. Then may L[aprailk and B[urns] arise, &c., only a portion was as yet revealed to the world. They are of with more and not less instinct fifteen months' later date than that addressed to David Sillars : modesty, certainly prophetic how much earlier or later than that addressed to J. Smith, will than Horace's farewell to mortality Non usitata nee tenui ferar require investigation to determine which we reserve, as for- Penna, &c. Car. II. xx. merly hinted, to the Appendix. But they are distinguished No weak nor common wing shall bear by the same richness, freedom, and beauty; on which farther My rising body through the air, &c. Creech. comment is unnecessary. Lapraik's poetical genius was un- 68. To W. S[IMPSO]N, OCHILTREE : William Simpson, Burns and from the tone of p. questionably overrated by ; general who seems to have introduced himself to Burns, and to whom the third Epistle addressed to him, it may be conjectured that the Epistle in reply is here addressed, was one of three brothers, Burns had begun to discover that. The man himself was the all men of more than average ability and accomplishments. worthy representative of a respectable stock, and proprietor of William, in addition to his other qualifications as a friend and a small freehold estate, called Dalfram, in the moorlands of correspondent, had the gift of versifying at least to such an Ayrshire, near Muirkirk. His circumstances, by repeated extent, as to be acceptable on that ground alone to the Poet. misfortunes through banking speculations, became so seriously He went so far in the indulgence of this faculty, as on one involved, that he was not only forced to relinquish this patri- Burns and an of his in Burns's occasion to personate ; epistle mony, but to suffer the additional hardship of imprisonment ' To a Tailor,' obtained circulation for years as a for debt. So we are informed in a volume entitled 'The name, many genuine production, and may be found at this day in some of Contemporaries of Burns,' by Mr. Hugh Paton, Edin. 1840. the most popular editions of his works. [See App. Note on The song itself, which so much interested Burns, is understood, spurious pieces.] He had been educated for the ministry, but on the same authority, to have been written at that time in abandoned that profession, and at this date was Parochial jail. It appears also that Burns afterwards visited Lapraik, Teacher at Ochiltree. His correspondence with Burns origi- and a cheerful under the old man's roof. spent night hospitable ' ' nated in his accidental perusal of the Twa Herds, the first copy In 1788, he published a small volume of his own poems, con- of which, it appears, or at least an early copy, had been brought taining among other pieces an address to Burns. - by his brother Patrick one night from Mauchline to their father's p. 67. To THE SAME: house at Ochiltree. Simpson, we understand, on a reverend c. 1, s. 2. Forjesket sair, with weary legs, friend's authority, has left a considerable volume of poetry in Rattlin the corn out-owre the rigs, &c. manuscript behind him. The names referred to in the Epistle, Mr. Chambers states that Lapraik's reply to Burns's first as those with whom Simpson had compared the author, are was delivered to Burns when in the act of corn- Hamilton of and from Epistle those of Eamsay, Gilbertfield, Ferguson ; that in his to read sowing at Mossgiel; and eagerness the whom Burns no doubt adopted models of epistolary writing, he to secure the communication, neglected sowing-sheet, so but raised their style by his own originality far beyond its itself the ' that the grain was poured upon ground. The rank or efficiency in their hands. His reference to the Hills messenger who delivered this letter was Lapraik's own son, of Ochiltree,' in writing to a correspondent who lived there, is whose is the on which the fact is stated. full of taste and the to Nature testimony authority great ; succeeding apostrophe with Mr. Chambers' s in the We entirely sympathise delight truly exquisite. Compare Horace's ode Ad Manutlum Plan- of such an anecdote. rehearsal cum, Cur. I. vii., throughout; also the more celebrated Ad xxii. with Sin' I could striddlc owro a Aristium Fuscum, ; particularly $ rig ; >f (3 AND HISTORICAL.] OF ROBERT BURNS. 107

nae ever fand The Muse, poet her, pendix. The Epistle must have been written in the summer Till by himsel he learn' d to wander, of 1784, and about the same time doubtless as the 'Address to Adown some trottin burn's meander, An' no think lang : an Illegitimate Child.' We shall by and by, in our Appendix, sweet to an' pensive ponder stray, see how Burns was accustomed to distribute his poems. On A heart-felt sang ! the present occasion, he seems to have sent a specimen or two Namque me silva lupus in Sabina, to Eankin for his amusement. This the of Dum meam canto Lalagen, et ultra reader, course, Terminum curis vagor expeditus, remembers was at a date when publication had not yet been inermem. Car. I. Ode xxii. Fugit of. thought The notes by the Author are as under : For musing on my lovely maid, p. 71, c. 1, s. 1. Your dreams* an' tricks While careless in the woods I stray' d, * A certain humorous dream of his was then a noise in the A wolf how dreadful ! cross'd my way, making country-side. see Yet fled he fled from his defenceless prey. Francis. [Narrated by Cunningham Appendix.]

c. 2, s. 1. Yon sang ye' 11 wi' cannie Another in the same be sen't,+ care, singular correspondence, style, may And no neglect. found in his Ode Ad Car. IV. iii. Melpamenen, t A song he had promised the Author. Sed quae Tibur aquae fertile prsefluunt, p. 72. JOHN BARLEYCORN: "This is partly composed," Et spissae nemorum comae the " Fingent JEolio carmine nobilem. says Author, on the plan of an old song known by the same and is a of his But him the streams which warbling flow name," very early composition own. The Rich Tibur' s fertile vales along, original on which it is founded (or possibly two originals, for And shady groves, his haunts, shall know there are ideas in each of them separately which are here united The master of th' JEolian song. Francis. by Burns) was an old Northern Ballad Song, preserved from And equally remarkable, perhaps, in the passionate extra- memory by Jamieson, and published by him in the second of as he too wanders disconsolate in love ' ' vagance Petrarch, volume of his Ballads he also Popular ; along with which gives through the forest of Ardenne, solacing himself with song : five other pieces, most of them English apparently, on the same E v6 cantando miei non ' (O pensier' saggi !) subject, but under different designations such as Allan-a- Lei che '1 ciel non porria lontana far me : and 'Master and 'Sir John Parte Prima, Son. cxliii. Maut,' Mault,' Barleycorn.'

c. 1, s. 1. There was three kings into the east, 1 wander on, (O, my distracted thoughts !)

not can hide : Singing her praise whom the heavens has been altered, we observe, in most recent editions to There were three the Of parallels between Petrarch and Burns, more hereafter. kings into east, On the POSTSCRIPT scarcely any remark can be required, but we retain the text as it stands in the Author's own editions,

' beyond the Author's own reference to his note on the Ordina- because it has the Author's own recognition, and is much more tion' for the sense of the cant phraseology about Auld and New in the irregular style of the genuine old ballad. Lights. Dr. Taylor of Norwich, who is there identified with p. 73. THE FRAGMENT, which follows, is but a pasquinade the origin of the New Light, published his first work on the on the political difficulties of the crisis connected with the in a third edition in 1750 and Burns's American for of which must refer the subject 1740 ; appeared ; War; particulars we father is said not only to have been acquainted with, but to reader to the common page of history. From all the dates have imbibed his views. His chief heresy seems to have included, 1784 (in which Pitt's Parliament assembled) being been that he admitted the use of reason in the interpretation the last, we may presume that this was a comparatively of the Bible, and denied the transmission of original sin. We youthful and certainly unfinished production. Mr. Chambers, do not know how far such views are still considered heretical a little too seriously, perhaps, speaks on this occasion of Burns or dangerous. The first experiments of Montgolfier, Lunardi, as being "in a raw and unenlightened state as a politician," and other aeronauts, in France and Great Britain, had just and further quotes with approbation Dr. Blair's remark, that occurred, or were then occurring. his politics "smelt of the Smithy." That may be so, for he p. 71. THE EPISTLE TO J. E[ANKIN], as our readers are was the oracle of the smithy, as well as the delight and orna- is first doubtless aware, the public protest by the Author against ment of the drawing-room : but it appears that the politics of a of which he conceived to be destined to to system religious discipline utterly the Smithy were ultimately triumph ; supersede the of at variance with dignity manhood, and under which he the politics of the Pulpit, and of the Professor's Chair; to intrude had then to brook the scandal of exposure in the neighbour- into Cabinets, and to alter the aspect of the British Constitu- hood. such could effect That procedure have any good on a tion : in which period of progress, not yet concluded by any moral constitution like was to his, impossible ; and that the means, the voice of Robert Burns, quote the words of an forefathers did discernment of our not discover its ruinous intelligent correspondent, "has done more than that of any in well be a matter of tendency every case, may astonishment. other individual man to save the nation itself from slavery,

' Eankin himself, to whom it was addressed, was no doubt and the world from stagnation." The Fragment' appears as a cognisant of all the circumstances, and his own modes of song at the commencement of the second volume of Johnson's ' ' " revenge in similar cases, glanced at in the second stanza, Musical Museum; where it is stated to have been Written

' " Ye mak a devil o' the saunts, for this Work by E. Burns. Tune, M. Friecedan.' The com- An' fill them fou ; pliment here assumed may have been allowed in friendship are only too literally and graphically described in such terms; by Burns; but the Fragment itself had already appeared a for proof of which, the reader may refer hereafter to the Ap- twelvemonth before, in the Edinburgh Edition of his works. 108 LIFE AND WORKS [NOTES CRITICAL

p. 74. Or THE SONGS which follow, only four appeared in in Johnson's Museum, and in Thomson's Collection; but seems to the original Edition viz., 'It was upon a Lammas Night,' have been altered subsequently, and as it appears to us, 'Now Westlin Winds,' 'From thee, Eliza, I must go,' and much weakened, by the addition of a word others 'Earewell to the Brethren of St. James's Lodge.' The The wisest man the warl' e'er saw. appeared for the first time in the Edinburgh Edition, although 'Again Rejoicing Nature,' which follows immediately, ap- several of them, and many others as beautiful, were then, and peared for the first time in Edinburgh Edition although had been for some time, in manuscript; of which the world as when written, is not quite certain and seems to have been this first of Burns' s as a ' yet knew nothing. Of sample genius ' without a heroine. The Menie of the chorus, and the chorus song-writer, we may say briefly now, that it indicates the itself, have no connection with the authorship; and were highest lyric qualities by which he was subsequently distin- admitted by Burns condescendingly at the request of a friend in of In the or nine guished that department poetry. eight in Edinburgh, himself the writer. In the song itself, some of specimens here before us, we find the utmost tenderness, the most beautiful descriptive touches imaginable, conveying, pathos, passion, and delicacy; with touches of descriptive as almost all Burns's pictures do, both sound and figure, occur. eloquence, such as alone are appropriate to songs, and of which Stanza IV., for example, he was so great a master, all illustrated and typified; with p. 77, c. I, s. iv. The wanton coot the water skims, that additional concentrated emphasis in every verse complete, is so entirely Anacreontic (see Ode to the Spring], that one and in the whole transporting, by which such compositions are affirm it had been borrowed the last verse in ' Green discriminated from other. On this we might (as every subject, however, ' Grow the Eashes, is said also to have been borrowed shall have more to say immediately hereafter: for the present, elsewhere), if we did not know the folly of such an assertion. such hint must suffice. For most of his songs Burns had But the 'cry of the ducklings' among the reeds, and the pas- individual heroines or occasions : according to different autho- sage of 'the stately swan,' which are all combined in the rities, there have been several different names and occasions same verse, put Anacreon at discount So also assigned for those now before us Burns's own declarations immediately. the in the next who being sometimes even controverted by those of his friends and shepherd stanza, relations. For the honour of the ' Lammas Night' two Annes steeks his faulding slap, owre And the moorlands whistles shill ; have made claim Anne Eonald; and Anne Blair, the same, no most artistic labour on canvas, the hand, we presume, who was subsequently Mrs. Anne Mirry in by cunningest ' will ever represent that. Shill,' in this verse, has been cor- Cumnock, and who persisted in maintaining to the end of her rupted in some recent editions to 'shrill,' which differs both in life, that she was the true and only inspirer of it. The Peggy sense and orthography from the original. Skill indicates a addressed in the next song, 'Now Westlin Winds,' is, upon clear, continuous, but an acute reverbera- Burns's own declaration, to be identified with Margaret Thom- liquid sound; shrill, ' tion as in The 1. 5 son, whose noonday vision at Kirkoswald interrupted his Brigs,' p. 19, The studies there other names been men- soaring lark, the perching red-breast shrill. mathematical ; but have For a and beautiful in some tioned. This song, as it now appears in Thomson's Collection, strange counterpart, respects almost to the whole of this is reduced to three stanzas the first and two last and has literal, song, but of necessity more sad, let the reader at his leisure turn to Petrarch's been slightly altered in the first and one of the concluding exquisite of lines. The first line stands- Sonnet, XLII. the Second Part, on the death of Laura beginning Now westlin winds and sportsmen's guns, Zeflro torna, e'l bel tempo rimena, &c., and the Other, I'll grasp thy waist, and, fondly prest, Zephyr returns, and fetches the sweet time, &c. reads thus I'll grasp thy waist, and fondly press't, of which composition Burns, in all human probability, was which not only changes the meaning, but interferes with the absolutely ignorant. construction of the verse : a grammatical circumstance which ' The Gloomy Night' speaks for itself, as a heartrending should direct attention to the necessity of careful examination farewell in the of self-banishment an prospect ; event already in all such cases. The ' exquisite lyric which follows, of My referred to elsewhere in connection with his publishing Nanie, 0,' has been assigned, on very reliable evidence, to the prospects. The season of the year at which this song seems praise of Agnes Fleming, a farmer's daughter, or servant in a to have been written has a curious bearing on the whole farmer's household, in the neighbourhood of Tarbolton; and question: but Mr. Chambers, by an elaborate comparison of is one of the early songs which the Author's father lived to facts and dates, has demonstrated that it must have been hear, and which he extolled (no wonder) with admiration written on his way home from London Manse, on 30th August, and ! Nanie it pride herself, is said, was, after all, no great 1786; and that the aspect of the weather is to be accounted beauty. The next, one of the most celebrated of all Burns's for by a terrible thunderstorm, which passed over Ayrshire at productions, was an unfinished fragment in his common-place that very time. To similar circumstances the next song also book, under date, August, 1784; and is as "the given genuine ' refers but the to whom it is has not been of his ; Eliza,' dedicated, language heart," which, beyond the possibility of satisfactorily identified the preponderance of evidence, in doubt, it was. Mr. Chambers's opinion, being in favour of "Miss Betty, one p. 76, c. 2, s. iv. The wisest man the warl' saw, of the Mauchline Belles." The line stands thus both in original Edinburgh Edition, and Such is a brief analysis of dates and personages connected AND HISTORICAL.] OF ROBERT BURNS.

it is a man a little too much addicted with these earliest amatory effusions : But in reality, among them, though perhaps matter of almost absolute indifference to whom they were to the assertion of his own clerical authority, or too much under the influence of and fools. James addressed, or when they were written. They belong to every rogues Humphrey, a the Polemic,' was a well-known native character, the man who loves, and cares to celebrate the praises of beloved; 'Noisy the botheration and of the district. trade he to every man who has failed in loving, and knows agony laughing-stock By in of of to man and woman was a mason, by assumption a doctrinaire, conduct, to say loss, or the anguish betrayal ; every and the least of it, an indiscret. He was afflicted with an endless who sees and sympathises with the beauty, the tenderness, ' of and at the same time a utterance the truth of nature. Of the two which follow, The Farewell,' gift speech, with defective we some malformation of the and 'The Cure for all Care,' little or nothing requires to be occasioned, believe, by upper lip, ' hairsh 'which rendered his more said: They both relate to friendships external to the man resembling oratory perhaps real the irksome than it otherwise have been. ridiculous himself, and are both much more conventional than ; might Many of stories are still related of his In latter of the two, being among the least dignified or worthy complacent monologues. he obtained admission to the of some all his compositions. declining years, privileges charitable institution in the " * a laid down neighbourhood ; and was besides p. 79, c. I, s. vi. Life's cares they are comforts" maxim By the Bard, what d'ye call him, that wore the black gown. gratified with a weekly allowance of the best beer, at the * Young's Night Thoughts. R. B. expense of the late Sir James Boswell, last Baronet of Auchin- fullest editions of his p. 79. EPITAPHS : According to the leck on consideration solely of his identity as the subject of collected works, Burns seems to have written in all no fewer this Epitaph of which, with some symptoms of imbecility, he ' than eighty-four Epitaphs and Epigrams. To this list spurious boasted to the end of his life. Wee Johnie,' the John Wilson additions have been attempted, and it is not impossible that in of Kilmarnock, by whom the first edition of Burns's Poems, in the list itself a few may be found whose authenticity is ques- which the Epitaph appeared, was printed, and who seems to tionable. In this species of composition, in which he indulged have doubted the success of a second, is said never to have is neither not a little and always impromptu, the highest dignity suspected the application of the words to himself simple and

: but as with the aimed at, nor perhaps attainable compared soulless enough, indeed ! It is a coincidence worth mentioning, in other such writings of professed epigrammatists respects that this same tradesman was occasionally employed to print as those of Martial the Epitaphs and Epigrams of Burns will sermons for the Rev. John Russel ' Black Russel ' of the

' be found to have quite as much point, and a great deal less ' Holy Fair who, as our readers have already been informed, indecency. It is a singular fact, indicative of the immense was one of the ministers of Kilmarnock; and still more influence of the Author's name and of the affectionate venera- curious that these sermons should have been printed from the it is that most of the who survived tion in which held, persons identical types, and with the same typographical ornaments, and considered it a such satire were vain of the distinction, which were used in presenting to the world the first edition of honour to have been noticed, even with abuse, by Robert our Author's Poems. Russel's we was lasting aspect, believe, grim ; such then a few Burns. Of compositions extant, only speci- but, according to an esteemed correspondent, he was an able, the Author for Of mens were selected by publication. these, although theologically a narrow-minded man. three The on a Husband' and two 'Epitaph Henpecked 'Epi- Of the subjects of the remaining Epitaphs, scarcely any on the Same which in the Kilmar- grams Occasion,' appeared information is required. That for the Author's father, most nock seem to have been excluded both from Edition, purposely truly descriptive, is now engraved upon his tombstone: the the and editions ; and as Edinburgh succeeding they certainly compliment to R[obert] A[iken], Esq., most richly deserved: of the do not add much to the dignity original publication, we and the vindication of G[avin] H[amilton's] benevolence most retain for insertion ' Minor Pieces.' The remainder them among amply justified. Gavin's chief offence seems to have been

: his entire not are now before us and during lifetime another, a little laxity of Sabbath observance, and the use of such are committed himself to so far as we aware, was by print. emphatic language in presence of the minister, as the printer be on or in Published they might window-panes newspapers, has signalised by a blank in the epitaph. The discipline to to his but not otherwise. On the three own disadvantage ; which these liberties gave rise, ended in a miserable ecclesi- satirical a word of is The astical in as a Epitaphs commentary required. process ; which 'Holy Willie,' defender before Kirk Session of Mauchline at that time consisted of three the Presbytery, to which the case was appealed, appears suit- ruling elders, or co-assessors, with the minister, Rev. William ably enough, as our readers will doubtless remember, who

' Auld. Of these three lay-rulers in that court (which is the have read his celebrated Prayer,' in the character of a of the of much and in which foundation Presbyterian system, capable good quaking partizan ; Gavin himself was ultimately when wisely conducted, and of infinite mischief otherwise), triumphant. one was a mere cipher, another an inquisitorial busybody, As for the concluding Epitaph of all, that epitaph of the third a pharisaical impostor, of suspicious honesty, better epitaphs which in grandeur and pathos rises above anything known to the world afterwards as' 'Holy Willie.' 'Souter of the sort on record, we reverently abstain from saying a

' Hood,' who assumed the office of inquisitor, is the Celebrated word more, than that it should be regarded rather as the Ruling Elder' here recommended to the patronage and con- appropriate and prophetic finale of a magnificent overture to fidence of Satan. The entire court, in a succeeding Epitaph, the world, than as a part of any collection of mere epitaphs or

' is stigmatised as an assembly of canting wretches;' although epigrams whatever. Sophocles alone, so far as we remember, we are bound to believe there was at least one respectable in his exquisite lamentation for the fate of CEdipus, approaches J10 LIFE AND WORKS [NOTES CRITICAL

it with, the obvious of that he there ; advantage, course, speaks have had acquaintance. That he adopted models from Ramsay for and a not for himself:, see and is that he another, royal sufferer, (Edip. Ferguson, known and admitted ; was partially Tyran. Concluding Chorus of which we venture to introduce acquainted with Milton, Shakspear, and Ossian, with Pope here the following, almost literal, translation : and Young, he himself also avows with the frankest acknow- of his to of for Children all of Thebes' old city, ledgment slightest obligation any them, even a

The lot of (Edipus you scan : word ; but it cannot be affirmed that he was at all conversant Who the famed fathom' enigmas d, with noblest Homer, with Anacreon, with Horace, with Dante, with And was our very man ; Who your fortunes never envied, Petrarch, or even with James I. of Scotland. Yet there are he saw rise Smiling when them ; ideas, words, and even lines in most of them, for which To what a depth of dread undoing Burns's own would be the best translation He hath fallen before your eyes ! original language O never mortal then, living ever offered. His resemblance to Horace, in particular, is so Looking still to see the end, striking as to have occasioned universal remark. So as Blessed call, till he hath quitted early the Life's last ledge, to heaven admitted, appearance of his first editions it became manifest : but Wrong' d by neither foe nor friend ! when Dr. Moore, who specially refers to it, compliments him So early then, it appears in his own battle, like CEdipus with on "the Horatian elegance" of his Epistle to J. Smith, he is the Sphinx of Life so early as the year 1786, if not earlier, as far as possible from implying the slightest idea of plagiarism and at the age of twenty-six or twenty-seven, a character was which would have been an insult and not a compliment. thus clearly defined, and a destiny for the Author by himself Our quotations from Horace, to illustrate this unconscious foreseen which more than other character or in ; any destiny, resemblance, have been very numerous; and we could have the this our modern world (that of CEdipus himself, great doubled the number with ease, if it had been necessary. diviner of the old, in its moral aspects not excepted), have From Petrarch and Dante both, we shall produce several excited the wonder and absorbed the sympathies of mankind : hereafter in addition, and have concluded the present division and not more truly does Horace say of his entire works, than of our Notes with a quotation from Sophocles, to ourselves of this alone Burns might say epitaph by far the most affecting and beautiful of all; with which, however, we may safely affirm that Burns, during his entire mormmenhrnt

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