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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFO 
LOS  ANGELES 


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THE     B  IRK  S     OF     ABERFELDY 


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I'l'HLISIIK  D    HV    W    MIl.XEli 


THE 

POETICAL  WORKS 

OP 

ROBERT  BURNS, 

WITH 

A  MEMOIR  OF  THE  AUTHOR'S  LIFE, 

AND 

A  GLOSSARY. 


HALIFAX: 

Wll.NKR,       AND       SOWI'Rut. 


MEMOIR 

OP 

THE  LIFE  OF  ROBERT  BURNS. 


This  celebrated  Bard  was  born  on  the  29tli  of  January,  1759, 
on  the  banks  of  the  Doon,  about  two  miles  from  Ayr,  near 
to  which  stand  the  ruins  of  Alloway  Kirk,  rendered  immortal 
by  his  admirable  Tale  of  "  Tarn,  o'  Shantcr." 

His  father,  William  Burns,  was  a  farmer  in  Ayrshire,  a 
man  of  very  respectable  character,  and  of  more  than  ordinary 
information  and  capacity.  It  is  stated  by  Burns,  that  to 
his  father's  observations  and  experience,  he  was  indebted 
for  most  of  his  little  pretensions  to  wisdom.  From  such  a 
son  this  eulogium  cannot  be  thought  undeserving.  In  1757 
he  married  Agnes  Brown.  Our  Poet  was  the  first  fruit  of 
this  union.  He  was  sent  to  school  wlien  about  six  years  old, 
where  he  was  taught  to  read  English  and  to  write  a  little ; 
and  so  great  was  his  progress,  that  he  became  a  critic  in 
English  Grammar  at  the  age  of  eleven,  and  was  also  remark- 
able for  the  correctness  of  his  pronunciation.  His  rudiments 
of  arithmetic  he  got  from  his  father  in  the  winter  evenings. 
He  says  of  himself,  in  his  letter  to  Doctor  Moore,  "At  those 
years  I  was  by  no  means  a  favourite  with  any  body.  I  was 
a  good  deal  noted  for  a  retentive  memory, astubborn  sturdy 
something  in  my  disposition,  and  an  enthusiastic  idiot  piety. 
I  say,  idiot  piety,  because  I  was  then  but  a  child.      Though 


48815:5 

Free  S«d^-^'^i^»'^^ 


IV  LIl  !•:    OK    ULUNS. 

it  cu»t  tlie  schnolmuster  some  tiirRs1:in(,'R,  I  made  an  excellent 
KiiKlish  scholar;  and  by  the  time  I  was  ten  or  eleven  years 
of  uge,  I  was  a  critic  in  siibstniitives,  verbs,  and  participle.^. 
In  ray  infant  and  my  boyish  days,  too,  I  owed  much  to  an  old 
woman  who  resided  in  the  family,  remarkable  for  her  igno- 
rance, credulity,  and  superstition.  She  had,  I  suppose,  the 
largest  collection  in  the  country,  of  tales  and  songs  con- 
cerning devils,  gliosis,  fairies,  brownies,  witches,  warlocks, 
spunkies,  kelpies,  elf-candies  dead- lights,  wraiths,  appari- 
tions, cantraips,  giants,  enchanted  towers,  dragons,  and  other 
trumpery.  This  cultivated  tli<>  latent  si  eds  of  poetry;  hut 
had  so  strong  an  etiect  on  my  imagination,  that  to  this  hour, 
in  my  nocturnal  rambles,  I  sometimes  keep  a  sharp  look-out 
in  suspicious  plates;  and  though  nobody  can  be  more  scep- 
tical than  I  am  in  such  matters,  yef  it  often  takes  an  effort 
of  philosophy  to  shake  off  these  idle  terrors." 

Before  he  was  nine  years  of  age,  he  had  acquired  a  strong 
propensity  for  reading,  which,  however,  was  greatly  checked 
by  his  want  of  access  to  books.  He  read  the  life  of  Hannibal 
through  with  great  avidity,  and  eagt  rly  perused  every  other 
book  that  came  in  his  way.  Even  at  tliis  early  period,  his 
tensit.ility  was  extraordinary;  yet  he  had  not  discovered 
any  sijins  of  that  striking  ready  wit  for  which  he  was  after- 
wards remarkable,  nor  betrayed  the  smulhst  symptom  of 
his  inclinatian  to  music  and  poetry. 

About  a  twelvemonth  previous  to  the  death  of  his  father. 
Burns,  who  had  then  attained  his  twenty-fourth  year,  became 
anxious  lo  he  Hxed  in  a  situation  to  enable  him  to  marry. 
His  brother  Gilbert  and  he  had  for  several  years  held  a  small 
portion  of  land  from  their  father,  on  which  they  chiefly 
raised  tlax.  In  disposing  of  the  produce  of  their  labour,  our 
Author  took  it  into  his  head  to  commence  flax-drtsser. — 
He  accordingly  continued  at  that  business  for  about  six 
months,  but  it  proved  an  unlucky  concern;  for  the  shop 
Mime  time  after  taking  fire,  was  utterly  destroyed,  and  lie 
was  left  not  worth  a  sixpence. 


LIFE    OF    BURNS.  T 

Immediately  before  the  death  of  their  fnU.^,  P.ains  arid 
his  brother  took  the  farm  at  Mossgiel,  consisting  of  liH 
acres,  at  £90  per  annum.  It  was  stoelied  by  the  )-roptrty 
and  individual  savings  of  the  whole  family,  and  was  a  joint 
concern.  But  the  first  year,  from  buying  bad  seed,  and  the 
second  from  a  late  harvest,  they  lost  half  their  crops. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  he  formed  the  connection  with 
Miss  Jean  Armour,  afterwards  Mrs.  Burns.  When  the  effects 
of  this  intimacy  could  no  longer  be  concealed,  our  Poet,  in 
order  to  screen  his  partner  from  the  consequences  of  their 
imprudence,  agreed  to  make  a  written  acknowledgment  of 
their  marriage,  and  then  endeavour  to  push  his  fortune  in 
Jamaica,  till  Providence  enabled  him  to  support  a  family 
comfortably.  This  was,  however,  strenuously  opposed  by 
her  relations;  and  her  father,  with  whom  she  was  a  great 
favourite,  advised  her  to  renounce  every  idea  of  such  an 
union,  conceiving  that  a  husband  in  Jamaica  was  little  better 
than  none.  She  was  therefore  prevailed  upon  to  cancel  the 
papers,  and  thus  render  the  marriage  null  and  void.  When 
this  was  mentioned  to  Burns,  he  was  in  a  state  bordering  on 
distraction  He  offered  to  stay  at  home,  and  provide  for 
his  family  in  the  best  manner  possible ;  but  even  this  was 
rejected. 

He  then  agreed  with  a  Dr.  Douglas  to  go  to  Jamaica,  as 
an  assistant  overseer  or  clerk,  and  made  every  preparation 
to  cross  the  Atlantic;  liut,  previous  to  his  setting  ofi',  he  was 
advised  to  publish  a  volume  of  his  poems  by  subscription. 
With  the  first  fruits  of  his  poetical  labours,  he  paid  his  pas- 
sage, and  purchased  a  few  articles  of  clothing,  &c.  His 
chest  was  already  on  the  way  to  Greenock,  when  a  letter 
from  Dr.  Blacklock,  signifying  his  approbation  of  the  poems, 
and  an  assurance  that  Burns  would  meet  with  encourage- 
ment in  Edinburgh  for  a  second  edition,  completely  changed 
his  intentions. 

Soon  after  his  arrival  in  Edinburgh,  (early  in  December, 
1766,)  his  poems  procured  him  the  aduiiralion  of  all  condi- 


U  LIKK    OF    BURNS. 

lions.  Ptrwms  of  rank  and  power  were  not  above  taking 
notice  of  him  :  and  in  a  short  time  the  name  of  Burns  was 
celebrated  over  all  the  kingdom.  It  ought  here  to  be  men- 
tioned to  his  honour,  that  he  had  been  in  Edinburgh  only 
a  few  months,  and  was  still  in  the  midst  of  poverty, 
when  he  erected  a  monument  in  Canon -gate  church-yard 
to  the  memory  of  the  celebrated  but  unfortunate  poet, 
FergusBon. 

In  Edinburgh,  Burns  beheld  mankind  in  a  new  light. 
Surrounded  on  all  sides  by  admirers,  his  days  were  spent  in 
the  company  of  the  great,  his  evenings  in  dissipation.  This 
kind  of  life  he  led  nearly  a  twelvemonth,  when  his  friends 
suggested  to  him  the  necessity  of  seeking  a  permanent 
establishment. 

Having  settled  accounts  with  his  publisher  in  February 
1788,  Burns  became  master  of  nearly  £500.  With  this  sum 
he  returned  to  Ayrshire,  where  he  found  his  brother  Gilbert 
struggling  to  support  their  aged  mother,  a  younger  brother, 
and  three  sisters  in  the  farm  of  Mossgiel.  He  immediately 
advanced  £200  to  their  relief.  With  the  remainder,  and 
what  further  profits  might  accrue  to  him  from  his  poems. 
Burns  seriously  resolved  to  settle  for  life,  and  resume  the 
occupation  of  agriculture. 

Mr.  Miller,  of  Dalswinton,  offered  him  the  choice  of  a 
farm  on  his  estate  at  his  own  terms.  Burns  readily  accepted 
this  generous  offer.  He  took  with  him  two  friends  to  value 
the  land,  and  fixed  on  tlie  farm  of  Ellisland,  about  six  miles 
above  Dumfries,  on  the  banks  of  the  river  Nith,  on  which 
he  entered  at  Whitsunday,  1788. 

Previously  to  this  period,  however,  he  had  been  recom- 
mended to  the  Board  of  Excise,  by  Mr.  Graham,  of  Fintra, 
»nd  had  his  name  enrolled  among  the  list  of  candidates  for 
the  humble  office  of  an  exciseman.  Expecting  that  the  Board 
would  appoint  him  to  act  in  the  district  where  his  farm  was 
situated,  he  began  ass'duously  to  qualify  himself  for  the 
proper  exercise  of  the  emi)loynient,    in  the  fond    hopes    of 


L.IFK    OF    BUIINS.  vii 

soon  unitint;  witli  success  the  labours  of  tlie  fanner  with  the 
duties  of  his  new  profession. 

No  sooner  had  he  arranged  the  plan  of  his  future  pur- 
suits, than  liiswliole  thoughts  were  bent  towards  the  object 
who  had  ever  been  nearest  and  dearest  to  his  heart.  Her 
relations  now  endeavoured  to  promote  their  union  with 
more  zeal  than  they  had  formerly  opposed  it;  and  they  were 
immediately  united  by  a  regular  marriage,  thus  legalizing 
their  union,  and  rendering  it  permanent  for  life. 

His  fame  naturally  drew  upon  him  the  attention  of  his 
neighbours,  and  he  soon  formed  a  general  acquaintance  in 
the  district  in  which  he  lived.  Their  social  parties,  how- 
ever, too  often  seduced  him  from  his  rustic  labours  and  his 
rustic  fare,  overthrew  the  unsteady  fabric  of  his  resolutions, 
and  inflamed  those  propensities  which  temperance  might 
have  weakened,  and  prudence  ultimately  suppressed.  It  was 
not  long,  therefore,  before  Burns  began  to  view  his  farm 
with  dislike  and  despondence,  if  not  with  disgust. 

Unfortunately  he  had  for  several  years  looked  to  an  office 
in  the  excise  as  a  certain  means  of  livelihood,  should  his 
other  expectations  fail.  As  has  already  been  mentioned,  he 
had  been  recommended  to  the  Board  of  Excise,  and  had 
received  the  instructions  necessary  for  such  a  situation.  He 
now  applied  to  be  employed;  and,  by  the  interest  of  Mr. 
Graham,  of  Fintra,  was  appointed  to  be  exciseman,  or,  as  it 
is  vulgarly  called,  gauger,  of  the  district  in  which  he  lived. 
The  duties  of  this  disagreeable  situation,  besides  exposing 
him  to  numberless  temptations,  occupied  that  part  of  his 
time  which  ought  to  have  been  bestowed  in  cultivating  iiis 
farm;  which,  after  this,  was  in  a  great  measure  abandoned 
to  servants.  It  is  easy  to  conjecture  the  consequences. 
Notwithstanding  the  moderation  of  the  rent,  and  the  prudent 
management  of  Mrs.  Burns,  he  found  it  convenient,  if  not 
necessary,  to  resign  his  farm  into  the  hands  of  Mr.  Miller, 
after  having  possessed  it  for  the  space  of  three  years  and  « 
half.     The  stock  and  erop  being  afterwards  sold  by  public 


'Ill  LI  IK    f>F    nURNS. 

nitctiun,  he  removed,  with  his  family,  to  a  small  housp  )n 
Dumfries  about  the  end  of  the  year  175)1,  to  devote  lilmscj 
lo  iin  employment  M-hich  siemed  from  the  first  to  afford  but 
little  hopes  of  future  hapjiimss. 

He  resided  four  years  at  Dumfries.  During  this  time  he 
bad  hoped  for  promotion  in  the  excise;  but  an  event  or- 
ourred  which  at  least  delayed  its  fulfilment.  The  events  of 
llie  French  revolution  wi  re  commented  on  by  him  in  a 
manner  very  different  from  what  micht  have  been  expected 
from  an  officer  under  Roveniment.  Information  of  this 
was  given  to  the  Board  of  Excise.  A  superior  officer  in 
that  department  was  authorized  to  eiir|uire  into  his  conduct, 
llnrna  defended  himself  in  a  letter  addressed  to  one  of  the 
Hoard,  written  with  great  independence  of  spirit,  and  with 
more  than  his  accustomed  eloquence.  The  officer  appointed 
to  enquire  into  his  conduct  gave  a  favourable  report.  His 
steady  friend,  Mr.  Graham,  of  Fintra,  interposed  hiu  good 
offices  in  his  behalf;  and  he  was  suffered  to  retain  his  situ- 
ation, but  was  given  to  understand  that  his  promotion  was 
deferred,  and  must  depend  upon  his  future  behaviour. 

In  the  month  of  June,  170G,  he  removed  to  Brow,  in 
Annaiidule,  about  ten  miles  from  Dumfries,  to  try  the  effect 
of  sea-bathing;  a  remedy  that  at  first,  he  imagined,  rMieved 
rheumatic  pains  in  his  limbs,  with  which  he  had  been 
afflicted  for  some  montlis:  but  this  was  immediately  followed 
by  a  new  attack  of  fever.  When  brought  back  to  his  own 
house  in  Dumfries,  on  the  16th  of  July,  he  was  no  longer 
able  to  stand  upright.  The  fever  increased,  attended  with 
delirium  and  debility,  and  on  the  21st  he  expired,  in  the 
thirty-eighth  year  of  his  ago..  He  left  a  widow  and  four 
sons.  The  ceremonial  of  his  interment  was  accompanied 
with  military  honours,  not  only  by  the  corps  of  Dumfries 
volunteers,  of  which  he  was  a  member,  but  by  the  Fencible 
Infantry,  and  a  regiment  of  the  Cinque  Port  Cavalry,  then 
quartered  in  Dumfries. 


DEDICATION. 


TO 

THE  NOBLEMEN  AND  GENTLEMEN 


CALEDONIAN  HUNT. 


51 V    LOKUS    AND    (jENTLEMKN, 

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  land;  those  who  b-nr  the  honours  and  inherit  tlie 
virtues  of  tjieir  ancestors  ?  The  Poetic  Genius  of  my  country 
found  me,  as  the  prophetic  bard  Elijah  did  Elisha — at  the 
plouffh,  and  threw  her  inspiring  inantle  over  me.  Siie 
bade  me  sins:  the  loves,  the  joys,  the  rural  scenes,  and  rural 
pleasures  of  my  native  soil,  in  my  native  tonerue :  I  tnnnd 
my  wild,  artless  notes  as  she  inspired.  She  whispered  me 
to  come  to  this  anciont  Metropolis  of  Caledonia,  and  lay 
my  Songs  under  your  honoured  protection:  I  now  obey  her 
dictates. 

Tiiough  much  indebted  to  your  goodness,  I  do  not  ap- 
proach you,  my  Lords  and  Gentlemen,  in  the  usual  style  of 
dedication,  to  thank  you  for  past  favours;  that   path  is  so 


\  DKD  I  CATION. 

Iiackiioycd  by  prostituted  Lcurning,  thut  liuiitsst  Rusticity  is 
asiiaiiied  of  it.  Nor  do  I  present  tliis  address  with  tiie  venal 
soul  of  a  servile  author,  looi^inp:  for  a  continuation  of  those 
favours :  I  was  bred  to  the  plough,  and  am  independervt.  I 
come  to  claim  the  roiimion  Scottish  name  with  you,  my 
illustrious  Conntryiiicii ;  and  to  ttll  the  world  that  I  glory 
In  the  title.  I  come  to  congratulate  my  country,  that  the 
Mood  of  her  ancient  heroes  still  runs  uncontaminatcd ;  and 
that  from  your  courage,  knowledge,  and  public  spirit,  she 
may  expect  protection,  wealth,  and  liberty.  In  the  last 
place,  I  come  to  prott'er  my  warmest  wishes  to  the  Great 
I'ountain  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  re- 
turn :  when  harassed  in  courts  or  camps,  with  thejostlings 
of  bad  men  and  b;ul  measures,  may  the  honest  consciousness 
of  injured  Worth  attend  your  return  to  your  native  seats; 
and  may  Domestic  Happiness,  with  a  smiling  welijome,  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! 

I  have  the  honour  to  be. 
With  the  sincerest  gratitude,  and  highest  respect. 
My  Lords  and  Gentlemen, 

Your  most  devoted  humble  Servant, 

ROBERT  BURNS. 
K<ltnburij'-,  April  4,  17S7 


CONTENTS. 


PAOII. 

The  Twa  Dogs,  a  Talc  I 

Scotch  Drink 8 

The  Author's  Earnest  Cry  and  Prayer IS 

Tlie  Holy  Fair 19 

Death  and  Doctor  Hornbook  20 

The  Briss  of  Ay r S3 

The  Ordination 40 

The  Calf 44 

Address  to  the  Dell 49 

The  Death  and  dying  words  of  Poor  Alailie 50 

Poor  Maine's  Elegy 52 

To  James  Smith,  Mauchline 54 

A  Dream 60 

The  Vision 64 

Address  to  the  unco  Gude 74 

Tam  Samson's  Elegy 76 

Halloween 80 

The  Farmer's  Salutation  to  his  auld  Mare  Maggie 90 

To  a  Mouse 94 

A  Winter  Night 96 

Epistle  to  Davie,  a  Brother  Poet 99 

Tlie  Lament 103 

Despondency,  an  Ode 106 

Winter,  a  Dirge 108 

The  Cotter's  Saturday  Night 109 

Man  was  made  to  mourn,  a  Dirge 115 

A  Prayer  in  the  Prospect  of  Deatn 118 

Stanzas  on  the  same  Occasion 119 

Verses   eft  at  a  Friend's  House 1  :>0 


CONIENTa. 


Tlie  Firsit  Psalm IJl 

A  Prayer  un()<>r  the  Pipssiiro  of  violent  Anguish ih. 

The  first  Six  Verses  of  the  Nineteenth  Psiilm 1*22 

To  H  Mountain  Daisy 123 

To  Uuin I'iS 

To  Miss  Logan 12P 

Epistle  to  a  Yoiincj  Friend ih. 

On  a  Scotch  Bard  gone  to  the  West  Indies 129 

To  a  Haggis 131 

A  Dedication  to  Gavin  Hamilton,  Esq 133 

To  a  Louse 137 

Addross  to  Edinburgh 138 

Epistle  to  J.  Lapraik,  an  old  Scottish  Bard 141 

To  the  same 145 

To  'William  Simpson,  Ochiltre 149 

Epistle  to  John  Rankin,  enclosing  somei  Poems 165 

Written  in  I'riars-Carse  Hermitage,  on  Nithside JSel 

Ode,  Sacred  to  the  Memory  of  Mrs. of 159 

Elegy  on  Captain  Matthew  Henderson l(il 

Lament  of  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots les 

To  Robert  Graham,  Esq.  of  Fintra I(i7 

Lament  for  James,  Earl  of  (ilencairn 170 

To  Sir  John  Whitefoord,  with  (he  foregoing  Poem 172 

Tarn  o'Shanter,  a  Tale 178 

On  seeing  a  wounded  Hare  limp  by  me 179 

Address  to  the  Shade  of  Thomson   180 

On  the  late  Captain  Grose's  Perigrinations 181 

To  Miss  Cruikshanks,  a  very  young  Lady 183 

On  the  Death  of  John  M'Leod,  6cc. IS* 

The  humble  Petition  of  Bruar  Water 185 

On  scaring  some  Water-Fowl,  in  Loch  Turit 188 

Written  in  the  Inn  at  Kenmnre,  Taymouth 189 

W^ritten  at  the  Fall  of  Fyers.  near  Loch-Ness 190 

On  the  Birth  of  a  Posthumous  Child 191 

Second  Epistle  to  Davie,  a  Brother  Poet ]!]2 

Lines  on  an  Interview  with  Lord  Daer 194 

On  the  Death  of  a  Lap-Dog,  named  Echo 105 

Inscription  to  the  Memory  of  Fergusson 196 

Epistle  to  R.  Graham,  Esq ib. 

Fragment,  inscribed  to  the  Right  Hon.  C.  J.  Fox 199 

To  Dr.  Blacklock 200 

Prologue  spoken  at  the  Theatre,  Dumfries 0')3 

Elegy  on  the  late  Miss  Burnet,  of  Monboddo v04 


i;oNTj.:NTrf. 


The  Rights  of  Woman    jorj 

Address,  spoken  by  Miss  Fontenelle 'JOfi 

Verses,  to  a  Young  Lady  208 

Verses  addressed  to  a  Lady  id. 

Address  to  Mr.  William  Ty tier    209 

To  a  Gentleman  on  receiving  a  Newspaper \>\0 

Poem  on  Pastoral  Poetry -219 

Sketch.— New  Year's  Day 218 

Extempore  on  the  late  Mr.  William  Smtllie  L'lu 

Poetical  Inscription  for  an  Altar  to  Independence    ....  ib. 

Answer  to  a  Mandate 216 

To  a  Young  Lady 1'  1 8 

Extempore ib. 

To  Mr.  S-'e,  with  a  Present  of  Porter ib. 

Poem,  addressed  to  Mr.  Mitchell 219 

Sent  to  a  Gentleman  whom  he  had  offended  220 

Poem  on  Life    ib. 

Address  to  the  Tooth-ache    222 

Holy  Willie's  Prayer 2"i3 

Epitaph  on  Holy  Willie 22« 

The  Kirk's  Alarm 227 

Letter  to  John  Goudie,  Kilmarnock 2J0 

The  Twa  Herds 231 

To  Mrs.  Dunlop,  on  Sensibility   2:U 

Sonnet  on  hearing  a  Thrush 23.5 

To  tlie  Giiidwife  of  Wanchopc  Honse y.'lG 

To  J.  Ranken     2J>8 

Address  to  an  Illegitimate  Child 239 

To  aTailor 2i0 

Lament  of  a  Mdther  for  the  Deatii  of  her  Son    242 

Sonnet  on  the  Death  of  Robert  Riddel,  Esq 2-1.3 

On  the  Death  of  Sir  James  Hnnter  Blair 244 

Letter  to  J sT 1,  of  Gl— nc— r 245 

Verses  on  a  Young  Lady   243 

Lines  presented  to  an  old  Sweetheart,  then  married....  lb. 

Extempore. — The  Invitation 249 

Written  in  a  Lady's  Pocket  Book ib. 

Lines  on  Miss  J.Scott,  of  Ayr ib. 

EPITAPHS,  EPIGRAMS,  &e. 

On  a  celebrated  Ruling  Elder 250 

On  a  noisy  Polemic ib. 

On  Wee  Johnny  ib 


XIV  COMENTS. 

rioa. 

Tor  the  Aiillior's  FalluT    250 

For  RolitTt  Aiken,  Ksq 251 

For  (Ja\  ill  Hamilton,  Es() iiol 

A  Biird's  Kjiitaph ib. 

On  John  Dove  '252 

On  a  Friend   253 

On  a  A\'a^,  in  Mauchline    ib. 

The  Henpeck'd  Husband  ib. 

The  Highland  Welcome 1*54 

A  Grace  before  Dinner  il). 

On  Captain  Grose ib. 

SONGS  AND  BALLADS. 

The  Jolly  Beggars 255 

The  Rigs  o'  Barley 2(57 

Now  Westlin  Winds    268 

Behind  yon  Hills  where  Lugar  flows 270 

Green  grow  the  Rashes 271 

Again  Rejoicing  Nature  sees 272 

The  gloomy  Night  is  gathering  fast    273 

From  thee,  Eliza,  I  must  go 274 

The  Farewell 275 

No  Churchman  am  I 276 

Highland  Mary 277 

Auld  Rob  Morris 273 

Duncan  Gray 279 

Galla  Water 280 

The  Soldier's  Return 281 

Meg  0'  the  Mill 263 

O  Logan,  sweetly  didst  thou  glide ib. 

The  Lea-Rig 285 

Wandering  Willie ib. 

Had  I  a  Cave  on  some  wild  distant  Shore 286 

Whistle  and  I'll  come  to  thee,  my  Lad ib. 

Dainty  Davie 287 

Auld  Lang  Syne 288 

Robert  Bruce's  Address  at  Bannockburn 289 

Ca'  the  Yowes  to  the  Knowes 290 

Slie  says  she  lo'es  me  best  of  a' 291 

Lassie  wi'  the  Lint-white  Locks '292 

For  a'  that  and  a'  that 293 

O  Lassie,  art  thou  sleeping  yet 295 

Her  Answer. — O  tell  na  nie  o'  wind  and  Min ib. 


(M)NTKNT.- 


Their  Groves  o'  sweet  Myrtle *-'9fl 

0  this  is  na  my  ain  Lassie 2!)7 

Scottish  Ballad. — Last  May  a  braw  wooer 208 

Hey  for  a  Lass  wi'  a  Tocher 299 

Here's  a  health  to  ane  I  lo'e  dear 300 

The  Birks  of  Aberfeldy 301 

Blithe  was  she   802 

My  Chloris,  mark  how  green  the  iri'oves  ib. 

1  love  my  Jean. — Of  a'  the  airts  the  wind  can  hlaw 303 

Willie  brew'd  a  Peck  o'  Maut 304 

Tarn  Glen 805 

What  can  a  young  Lassie  do  wi'  an  auld  man  ? 306 

O,  for  ane  and  twenty,  Tarn 807 

The  Banks  o'  Doon ib. 

Sic  a  Wife  as  Willie  had 308 

Wilt  thou  be  my  Dearie ?.' 309 

She's  fair  and  fause ib. 

O  wat  ye  wha's  in  you  Town 810 

The  red,  red  Rose.' 311 

Song  of  Death 812 

Imitation  of  an  old  Jacobite  Song 313 

To  Mary  in  Heaven ib. 

Naebody 814 

To  Mary 316 

Bonnie  Lesley 816 

Mary  Morison 317 

Blithe  hae  I  been  on  yon  hill ib. 

Bonnie  Jean 318 

Tibbie,  I  hae  seen  the  day 320 

Thou  hast  left  me  ever,  Jamie 321 

Fair  Jenny 822 

Husband,  husband,  cease  your  strife ib. 

How  lang  ami  dreary  is  the  night ,324 

It  was  the  charming  month  of  May ib. 

Contented  wi'  little,  and  cantie  wi'  mair 825 

Canst  thou  leave  me  thus,  my  Katy  ? 326 

My  Nannie's  awa ib. 

'Twas  na  her  bonnie  blue  ee  was  my  ruin 327 

Fairest  Maid  on  Devon  banks 328 

The  Young  Highland  Rover ib. 

Where  braving  angry  Winter's  Storms ;VJ9 

The  Braes  o'  Ballochmyle ib. 

Farewell  thou  Stream  that  winding  flows 380 


XVI  CONTKNTS. 

tAna. 

John  Anilerson  my  jo 831 

A  Rose-bud  bv  my  early  walk ib. 

The  joyful  Widower 832 

Fair  Eii/ii SSJi 

The  pai'tint;  Kiss 334 

Musiiij?  on  the  roaring  Ocean ib. 

I^ord  Greirnry 825 

Open  the  Door  to  me,  oh ! 33C 

Clarinda 837 

Craigie-burn ih. 

Isabella. — liaving  Winds  around  her  blowing ;j3S 

The  Whistle.— I  sing  of  a  Whistle 330 

Oujss A  RV ,  34S 


POEMS, 

CHIEFLY  SCOTTISH. 


THE  TWA  DOGS. 

A  TALE. 

TwAS  in  that  place  o'  Scotland's  isle, 
'That  bears  the  name  o'  Auld  King  Coil, 
Upon  a  bonnie  day  in  June, 
When  wearing  through  the  afternoon, 
Twa  dogs,  that  were  na  thrang  at  haine, 
Forgather'd  ance  upon  a  time. 

The  first  I'll  name,  they  ca'd  him  Ccesar^ 
Was  keepit  for  his  honour's  pleasure ; 
His  hair,  his  size,  his  mouth,  liis  lugs, 
Shew'd  he  was  nane  o'  Scotland's  dogs, 
But  whalpit  some  place  far  abroad, 
Where  sailors  gang  to  fish  for  cod. 

His  lockit,  letter'd,  braw  brass  collar, 
Shew'd  him  the  gentleman  and  scholar ; 
But  though  he  was  o'  higli  degree, 
The  fient  a  pride,  nae  pride  had  he  ; 
But  wad  hae  spent  an  hour  caressin 
Wi'  ony  tinkler  gipsy's  messin : 
At  kirk  or  market,  mill  or  smiddie, 
Nae  tawted  tyke,  though  e'er  sae  duddie, 
But  he  wad  stant't  as  glad  to  see  him, 
And  stroan't  on  stanes  and  hillocks  wi'  him 

The  tither  was  a  ploughman's  collie, 
A  rhyming,  ranting,  roving  billie, 
17  B 


BURNS'    POEMS. 

Wlia  for  liis  friend  and  comrade  had  him, 
And  in  his  freaks  had  Luath  ca'd  him, 
After  some  dog  in  Higliland  sang,* 
Was  made  lang  syne— Gude  kens  how  lang. 

He  was  a  gash  an'  faithfu'  tyke, 
As  ever  lap  a  sheugh  or  dyke  ; 
His  honest,  sonsie,  baws'nt  face, 
Aye  gat  him  friends  in  ilka  place. 
His  breast  was  white,  his  towzie  back 
Weel  clad  wi'  coat  o'  glossy  black  ; 
His  gawcie  tail,  wi'  upward  curl, 
Hung  o'er  his  hurdles  wi'  a  swirl. 

Nae  doubt  but  they  were  fain  o'  ither. 
And  unco  pack  and  thick  thegither  ; 
Wi'  social  nose  whyles  snuflPd  and  snowkit ; 
Whiles  mice  and  moudieworts  they  howkit ; 
Whiles  scour'd  awa  in  lang  excursion. 
And  worried  ither  in  diversion  ; 
Until  wi'  daffin  weary  grown, 
Upon  a  knowe  they  sat  them  down, 
And  there  began  a  lang  digression, 
About  the  lords  of  the  creation. 


I've  aften  wonder'd,  honest  Luath, 
What  sort  o'  life  poor  dogs  like  you  liave  : 
An'  when  the  gentry's  life  I  saw, 
What  way  poor  bodies  liv'd  ava. 

Our  Laird  gets  in  his  racked  rents, 
His  coals,  his  kain,  and  a'  his  stents  ; 
He  rises  when  he  likes  himsel' ; 
His  flunkies  answer  at  the  bell : 
He  ca's  his  coach ;  he  ca's  his  horse ; 
He  draws  a  bonny  silken  purse, 


•  Cachullin's  dog  in  Ossian's  Fingal. 


BURNS'    POEMS. 

As  lanof's  my  tail,  whare,  through  the  steeks, 
The  yellow-letter'd  Geordie  keeks. 

Frae  morn  to  e'en  it's  nought  but  toiling, 
At  baking,  roasting,  frying,  boiling  ; 
And  though  the  gentry  first  are  stechin, 
Yet  e'en  the  ha'  folk  fill  their  pechan 
\Vi'  sauce,  ragouts,  and  sic  like  trashtrie, 
That's  little  short  o'  downright  wastrie. 
Our  whipper-in,  wee  blastit  wonner, 
Poor  worthless  elf,  it  eats  a  dinner 
Better  than  ony  tenant  man. 
His  Honour  has  in  a'  the  Ian' ; 
And  what  poor  cot-folk  pit  their  painch  in, 
I  own  it's  past  ray  comprehension. 


Trowth,  Caesar,  whiles  they're  fash't  eneugh 

A  cottar  howkin  in  a  sheugh, 

Wi'  dirty  stanes  biggin  a  dyke, 

Baring  a  quarry,  and  sic  like ; 

Himsel',  a  wife,  he  thus  sustains, 

A  smytrie  o'  wee  duddy  weans. 

And  nought  but  his  han'  darg  to  keep 

Them  right  and  tight  in  thack  and  rape.  ' 

And  when  they  meet  wi'  sair  disasters, 
Like  loss  o'  health,  or  want  of  masters. 
Ye  maist  wad  think,  a  wee  touch  langer 
And  they  maun  starve  o'  cauld  and  hunger  ; 
But  how  it  comes  I  never  kend  yet, 
They're  maistly  wonderfu'  contented  ; 
And  buirdly  chiels,  and  clever  hizzies, 
Are  bred  in  sic  a  way  as  this  is. 


But  then,  to  see  how  ye're  negleckit, 
How  liufF'd,  and  cuff'd,  and  disrespeckit . 


BURNS     POEMS. 

L— d  man  !  our  {gentry  care  sae  little 
For  delvers,  ditchers,  and  sic  cattle  ; 
They  gang:  as  saucy  hy  poor  folk, 
As  i  wad  by  a  stinking  brock. 

Ive  noticed,  on  our  Laird's  court-day 
And  mony  a  time  my  heart's  been  wae, 
Poor  tenant  bodies,  scant  o'  cash, 
How  they  mon  thole  a  factor's  snash  ; 
He'll  stamp  and  threaten,  curse  and  swear, 
He'll  apprehend  them,  poind  their  gear  ; 
While  they  maun  stan',  wi'  aspect  humble 
And  bear  it  a'  and  fear  and  tremble ! 
I  see  how  folk  live  that  hae  riches  ; 
But  surely  poor  folk  maun  be  wretches. 


They're  nae  sae  wretched's  ane  wad  think  ; 
Though  constantly  on  poortith's  brhik  : 
They're  sae  accustom'd  wi'  the  siglit. 
The  view  o't  gi'es  them  little  fright. 

Then  chance  and  fortune  are  sae  guided. 
They're  aye  in  less  or  mair  provided  ; 
And  though  fatigued  wi'  close  employment, 
A  blink  o'  re-t's  a  sweet  enjoyment. 

The  dearest  comfort  o'  their  lives. 
Their  grushie  weans  and  faithfu'  wives ; 
The  prattling  things  are  just  their  pride, 
That  sweetens  a'  their  lire-side. 

And  whiles  twalpenny  w^orth  o'  nappy 
Can  mak  the  bodies  unco  happy  ; 
They  lay  aside  their  private  cares, 
To  mind  the  Kirk  and  State  affairs  : 
They'll  talk  o'  patronage  and  priests, 
Wi'  kindling  fury  in  their  breasts  ; 
Or  tell  what  new  taxation's  comin, 
And  ferlie  at  the  folk  in  Lovlou. 


BURNS      rOKMS. 

As  bleak-faced  Hallowmas  returns, 
They  get  the  jovial,  rantin  kirns, 
When  rural  life  o'  every  station, 
Unite  in  common  recreation  ; 
Love  blinks,  Wit  slaps,  and  social  Mirth 
Forget  there's  Care  upo'  the  earth. 

That  merry  day  the  year  begins 
They  bar  the  door  on  frosty  win's  ; 
The  nappy  reeks  wi'  mantling  ream, 
And  sheds  a  heart-inspiring  stream  ; 
The  hinting  pipe,  and  sneeshing  mill, 
Are  handed  round  wi'  right  gude-will ; 
The  canty  auld  folk  cracking  crouse, 
The  young  anes  ranting  through  the  lious 
My  heart  has  been  sae  fain  to  see  them, 
That  I  for  joy  hae  barkit  wi'  them. 

Still  it's  owre  true  that  ye  hae  said, 
Sic  game  is  now  owre  often  play  d. 
There's  raony  a  creditable  stock 
O'  decent,  honest-fassont  folk, 
Are  riven  out  baith  root  and  branch, 
Some  rascal's  pridefu'  greed  to  quench, 
Wha  thinks  to  knit  himsel  the  faster 
In  favour  wi'  some  gentle  master, 
Wha,  aiblins,  thrang  a-parliamentin, 
For  Britain's  gude  his  saul  indentin. 


Haith,  lad,  ye  little  ken  about  it  -, 

For  Britain's  gtide !  gude  faith  I  doubt  it 

Say  rather,  gaun,  as  Preniiers  lead  him, 

And  saying  ay  or  no's  they  bid  him  ! 

At  operas  and  plays  parading, 

Mortgaging,  gambling,  masquerading. 

Or  maybe,  in  a  frolic  daft, 

To  Hague  or  Calais  take  a  waft. 


HirilN.s'    I'OEMS. 

To  niuk  a  four  and  tak  a  wliirl, 
To  leuni  bon  ton,  arid  sec  the  warl.' 

There,  at  Vienna,  or  Versailles, 
He  rives  his  father's  auld  entails; 
Or  hy  Madnd  he  takes  the  route, 
To  tliruni  miitars  and  fetcht  wi'  nowt ; 
Or  down  Italian  vista  startles, 
Wh-re-huntiu^j  anianp^  groves  o'  mj-rtles  ; 
Then  bouses  drunily  German  water. 
To  inak  hinisel  look  fair  and  fatter, 
And  clear  the  consequential  sorrows, 
Love-uMtts  of  carnival  sip^noras, 
For  Britain's  gude '.  for  her  destruction  ! 
Wi'  dissipation,  feud,  and  faction. 


Ilech,  man  !  dear  sirs  !  is  that  the  prate 
They  waste  sae  monie  a  braw  estate  ? 
Are  we  sae  foutjliten  and  harass'd 
For  gear  to  gang  that  gate  at  last  ? 

O  wad  they  stay  aback  frae  courts, 
And  please  themselves  wi'  country  sports, 
It  wad  fur  every  ane  be  better, 
The  laird,  the  tenant,  and  the  cottar  ! 
For  the  frank,  rantin,  rambling  billies, 
Fient  haet  o'  them's  ill-hearted  fellows, 
Except  for  breaking  o'  their  timnier, 
Or  speaking  lightly' o'  tluir  limmer. 
Or  snooting  o'  a  hare  or  moor-cock, 
The  ne'er  a  bit,  they'r  ill  to  poor  folk. 

But  will  ye  tell  me,  Maister  Casar, 
Sure  great  folk's  life's  a  life  of  pleasure  ! 
>'ac  cauld  nor  hunger  e'er  can  steer  them, 
The  very  thought  o't  needna  fear  them, 


liUUNS      rOEMS. 
CESAR. 

L— d,  man  !  were  ye  but  whiles  where  I  am, 
The  gentles  ye  wad  ne'er  envy  'em. 

It's  true,  they  needna  starve  or  sweat, 
Tliro'  winter's  cauld  or  simmer's  heat ; 
They've  nae  sair  wark  to  craze  their  banes, 
And  fill  auld  age  wi'  grips  and  granes  : 
But  human  bodies  are  sic  fools, 
For  a'  their  colleges  and  schools. 
That  when  nae  real  ills  perplex  them, 
They  mak  enow  themselves  to  vex  them, 
And  aye  the  less  they  hae  to  sturt  them, 
In  like  proportion  less  will  hurt  them  : 
A  country  fellow  at  the  pleugh, 
His  acres  till'd,  he's  right  eneugh  ; 
A  country  lassie  at  her  wheel ; 
Her  dizzens  done,  she's  unco  weel ; 
But  gentlemen,  and  ladies  warst, 
Wi'  evendown  want  o'  wark  are  t arst. 
They  loiter,  lounging,  lank  and  lazy  ; 
Tliough  de'il  huet  ails  them,  yet  uneasy  , 
Their  days  insipid,  dull,  and  tasteless  ; 
Their  nights  unquiet,  lang,  and  restless  ; 
And  e'en  their  sports,  their  balls,  and  races, 
There  galloping  through  public  places ; 
There's  sic  parade,  sic  pomp  and  art. 
The  joy  can  scarcely  reach  the  heart. 
Tlie  men  cast  out  in  party  matches, 
Then  souther  a'  in  deep  debauches  : 
Ae  night  they're  mad  wi'  drink  and  wh-riiig; 
Neist  day  their  life  is  past  enduring. 
The  ladies  arm-in-arm,  in  clusters. 
As  great  and  gracious  a'  as  sisters  ; 
But  hear  their  absent  thoughts  o'  ithcr, 
They're  a'  run  de'ils  and  jades  thegitlier. 
Whiles,  owre  the  wee  bit  cup  and  plaitie, 
They  sip  the  scandal-potioa  pretty  ; 


BURNS     POEMS. 

Or  lee-lang  nights,  wi'  crabbit  leuks, 
Pore  owre  the  devil's  picture  beuks  ; 
Stake  on  a  chance  a  farmer's  stack-yard, 
And  cheat  like  ony  unhang'd  blackguard. 

There's  some  exception,  man  and  woman  ; 
But  this  is  gentry's  life  in  common. 

By  this  the  sun  was  out  o'  sight, 
And  darker  gloamin  brought  the  night ; 
The  bum-clock  humm'd  wi'  lazy  drone. 
The  kye  stood  rqwtin'  i'  the  loan  ; 
When  up  they  gat  and  shook  their  lugs, 
Rejoiced  they  were  na  men  but  dogs ; 
And  each  took  afF  his  several  way," 
Resolved  to  meet  some  ither  day. 


SCOTCH    DRINK. 


Gie  him  strong  drink  until  he  wink, 

That's  sinking:  in  despair; 
And  liqour  gude  to  fire  his  blude, 

That's  prest  wi'  grief  and  care ; 

There  let  him  bouse,  and  deep  carouse. 

Wi'  bumpers  flowing  o'er, 
Till  he  forgets  his  loves  or  debts, 

And  minds  his  griefs  no  more. 

Solo?no7i's  Proverbs,  xxxi.  6,  7 


Let  Other  poets  raise  a  fracas, 

'Bout  vines,  and  wines,  and  drunken  Bacchus, 

And  crabbit  names  and  stories  wrack  us, 

And  grate  our  lug, 
I  sing  the  juice  Scotch  Bear  can  raak  us. 

In  glass  or  jug. 

O  thou,  my  Muse !  gude  auld  Scotch  Drink  \ 
Whether  througli  wimpling  worms  thou  jink, 


BUllMS      POEMS. 

Or,  richly  brown,  ream  owre  the  brink, 
•  In  glorious  iUeni, 

Inspire  me,  till  I  lisp  and  wink, 

To  sing  thy  name  ! 

Let  husky  wheat  the  haughs  adorn, 
And  aits  set  up  their  awnie  horn, 
And  pease  and  beans  at  e'en  or  morn, 

Perfume  the  plain, 
Leeze  me  on  thee,  John  Barleycorn, 

Thou  king  o'  grain ! 

On  thee  aft  Scotland  chows  her  cood, 
In  souple  scones,  the  wale  o'  food  ! 
Or  tumbling  in  the  boiling  flood 

Wi'  kail  an'  beef; 
But  when  thou  pours  thy  strong  heart's  blood, 

There  thou  shines  chief. 

Food  fills  the  wame,  and  keeps  us  livin ; 
Tho'  life's  a  gift  no  worth  receivin, 
When  heavy  dragg'd  wi  pine  and  grievin  ; 

But,  oil'd  by  thee, 
The  wheels  o'  life  gae  down  hill,  scrievin, 

Wi'  rattlin  glee. 

Thou  clears  the  head  o'  doited  Lear  ; 
Thou  cheers  the  heart  o'  drooping  Care  ; 
Thou  strings  the  nerves  o'  Labour  sair, 

At's  weary  toil ; 
Thou  even  briglitens  dark  Despair 

Wi'  gloomy  smile. 

Aft,  clad  in  massy  siller  weed, 
WT  Gentles  thou  erects  thy  head. 
Yet  humbly  kind,  in  time  o'  need, 

Tlie  poor  man's  wine  ; 
His  wee  drap  parritch,  or  his  bread, 

Thou  kitchens  fine. 


10  IJIRNS'    I'OKMS. 

Tliou  art  tlie  life  o'  pul)lic  haunts  ; 

Hut  thee,  vvliat  were  our  fairs  and  rants? 

Ev'n  godly  meetings  o'  the  saints, 

By  thee  ispired, 
When  gaping  they  besiege  the  tents, 

Are  doubly  fired. 

That  merry  night  we  get  the  com  in, 
O  sweetly  then  thou  reams  the  horn  in ! 
Or  reekin  on  a  New-year  morniu 

In  cog  or  bicker, 
An'  just  a  wee  drap  sp'ritual  burn  in. 

And  gusty  sucker ! 

When  Vulcan  gies  his  bellows  breath, 
And  ploughmen  gather  wi'  their  gaith, 
O  rare  !  to  see  thee  fizz  and  freath 

r  the  luiiuit  caup! 
The  Burneicin*  comes  on  like  death 

At  ev'ry  chaup. 

Nae  mercy  then  for  airn  or  steel ; 
The  brawnie,  bainie,  ploughman  chiel, 
Brings  hard  owrehip,  wi'  sturdy  wheel 

The  strong  foreharamer, 
Till  block  and  sfuddie  ring  and  reel 

Wi'  dinsome  clamour. 

When  skirlin  weanies  see  the  light, 
Tiiou  maks  the  gossips  clatter  bright, 
How  fumblin  cuifs  their  dearies  slight ; 

Wae  worth  the  name  ! 
Nae  howdie  gets  a  social  night. 

Or  plack  frae  them. 


Burncn-in— Burn— the— n-iiuJ—x\\Q  Blacksmith. 


burns'  poems.  11 


When  neebors  an<^er  at  a  plea, 
And  just  as  wud  as  wud  can  be, 
How  easy  can  the  barley  hree 

Cement  the  quarrel 
It's  aye  the  cheapest  lawyer's  fee, 

To  taste  the  barrel. 


Alake !  that  e'er  my  Muse  has  reason 
To  wyte  her  countrymen  wi'  treason  ; 
But  monie  daily  weet  their  weason 

*Wi'  liqours  nice, 
And  hardly,  in  a  winter's  season. 

E'en  spier  her  price. 

Wae  worth  that  brandy,  burning  trash  ! 
Fell  source  o'  mony  a  pain  and  brash ! 
Twins  monie  a  poor,  doylt  drucken  hash 

O  hauf  his  days  ; 
An'  sends,  beside,  auld  Scotland's  cash 

To  her  warst  faes. 

Ye  Scots,  wha  wish  auld  Scotland  well ! 
Ye  chief,  to  you  my  tale  I  tell, 
Poor  plackless  deevils  like  mysel ! 

It  sets  you  ill, 
Wi'  bitter,  dearthful  wines  to  mell, 

Of  foreign  gill. 

May  gravels  round  his  blather  wrench, 
And  gouts  torment  them  inch  by  inch, 
Wha  twists  his  gruntle  wi'  a  gluncli 

O'  sour  disdain, 
Out-owre  a  glass  o'  ivhisky -punch. 

Wi'  honest  men. 

O  Whisky  !  soul  of  plays  and  pranks ! 
Acceiit  a  Bardie's  humble  thanks  I 


12  HIJIINS      POKMS. 

Whon  wanting  tliee,  what  tuneless  crank* 
Are  my  poor  verses! 

Thou  comes tliey  rattle  i'  their  ranks 

At  ither's  a— s! 

Thee  Fer'intosh !  O  sadly  lost !     ' 
Scotland,  lament  frae  coai=(t  to  coast! 
Now  colic  grips,  and  barking  hoast, 

]\Iay  kill  us  a'; 
For  loyal  Forbes'  cliarter'd  boast, 

Is  ta'en  awa ! 

Tbae  curst  liorse-leeches  o'  th'  Excise, 
U'ha  mak  the  Wliisk;/  Stells  their  prize  ! 
Uaud  up  thy  ban',  Deil !  ance,  twice,  thrice! 

There,  seize  the  blinkers  ; 
An'  bake  them  up  in  brunstane  pies, 

For  poor  d — n'd  drinkers. 

Fortune !  if  thou'll  but  gie  me  still 
Hale  breeks,  a  sconce,  and  Whisky  gill, 
And  routh  o'  rhyme  to  rave  at  will, 

Tak  a'  the  rest, 
And  deal't  about  as  thy  blind  skill 

Directs  thee  best. 


burns'  poems.  13 

THE  author's 
EARNEST  CRY  AND  PRAYER* 

TO   THE 

SCOTCH  REPRESENTATIVES  IN   THE  HOUSE   OP 
COMMONS. 


Dearest  of  Distillation  ?   last  and  best 

How  art  thou  lost! 

Parody  on  Mitton. 


Ye  Iririh  lords,  ye  knights  and  squires, 
Wlia  represent  our  burghs  and  shires, 
And  doucely  manage  our  affairs 

In  parliament, 
To  you  a  simple  Poet's  prayers 

Are  humbly  sent. 

Alas  !  my  roupet  muse  is  hearse  ! 

Your  Honours'  liearts  \vi'  grief  'twad  pierce, 

To  see  her  sitting  on  her  a— 

Low  i'  the  dust, 
And  scriechia  out  prosaic  verse, 

An'  like  to  brust  ? 

Tell  them  wha  hae  the  chief  direction, 
Scotland  an'  vie's  in  great  affliction. 
E'er  sin'  they  laid  that  curst  restriction 

On  AquaviUe ; 
An'  rouse  them  up  to  strong  conviction, 

Au'  move  their  pity. 

•  This  was  written  before  the  act  anent  the  Scottish  Dls 
tilleries,  of  session  1786;  for  which  Scotland  and  the  autho 
return  their  most  grateful  thanks. 


11  nruNs'  poKMS. 

Stand  forth,  and  tell  yon  Premier  Youth, 

TliP  honest,  open,  naked  truth  ; 

Tell  him  o'  mine  and  Scotland's  drouth, 

His  servants  humble  : 
Tlie  uiuckle  deevil  blaw  ye  south, 

If  ye  dissemble! 

Does  ony  great  man  glunch  an'  gloom  ! 
Speak  out,  and  never  fash  your  thumb  : 
Let  posts  and  pensions  sink  or  soom 

Wi'  them  wha  grant  'em  ; 
If  honestly  they  canna  come, 

Far  better  want  'em. 

In  gatherin  votes  you  were  na  slack ; 
Now  stand  as  tightly  by  your  tack  ; 
Ne'er  claw  your  lug,  and  fidge  your  back, 

And  hum  and  haw  ; 
But  raise  your  arm,  and  tell  your  crack 

Before  them  a'. 

Paint  Scotland  greeting  owre  her  thrissel. 
Her  mutohkin-stoup  as  toom's  a  whissel ; 
And  damm'd  Exciseman  in  a  bussel, 

Seizin  a  Stell, 
Triumphant,  crushin't  like  a  mussel, 

Or  lampit  shell. 

Then,  on  the  tither  hand  present  her, 

A  blackguard  smuggler  right  behint  her. 

And  cheek-for-chow,  a  chuffie  vintner, 

Colleaguing  join. 
Picking  her  pouch  as  bare  as  winter 

Of  a'  kind  coin. 

Is  there  that  bears  the  name  o'  Scot, 
But  feels  his  heart's  blude  rising  hot, 


burns'  poems. 

To  see  his  poor  aulcl  Mitlier'spo^ 

Thus  dung  in  staves, 

An'  plunder'd  o'  her  hindmost  groat 
By  gallows  knaves  ? 

Alas  !  I'm  but  a  nameless  wight, 
Trod  1'  the  mire  clean  out  o'  sight ! 
But  could  I  like  MontgovCrie  fight, 

Or  gab  like  Bosicell, 
There's  some  sark-necks  I  wad  draw  ti'j,ht, 

And  tie  some  hose  well. 

God  bless  your  honours !  can  ye  see't, 
The  kind,  auld,  cantie  carlin  greet, 
An'  no  get  warmly  to  your  feet. 

An'  gar  them  hear  it, 
An'  tell  them  wi'  a  patriot  heat, 

Ye  winnu  bear  it ! 

Some  o'  you  nicely  ken  the  laws, 
To  round  the  period  an'  pause, 
An'  wi'  rhetoric  clause  on  clause 

To  mak  harangues ; 
Then  echo  thro'  St.  Stephen's  wa's, 

Auld  Scotland's  wrangs. 

Dempster,  a  true-blue  Scot  I'se  warran  ; 
Thee,  aith-detesting  chaste  Kilkerran  ;* 
An'  that  glib-gabbet  Hiiihland  baron. 

The  laird  o'  Graham  ;t 
An'  ane,  a  chap  that's  d — n'd  auldfarrau, 

Dundas  his  name. 

JErskine,  a  spunkie  Norland  billie ; 
True  Campbells,  Frederlch,  an'  I  lay ; 

♦  Sir  Adam  Ferguson. 
tThe  present  Duke  of  Montrose.— (1800.'* 


in  niTRNS*    POEMS. 

An'  LirbiQstone,  tlie  bauld  Sir  Willie ; 

An'  niony  ithera, 
Wham  auld  Demosthenes  or  Tully 

Mijfht  own  for  brithers. 

Arouse,  my  boys!  exert  your  mettle, 
To  pet  auhl  Scotland  back  her  kettle; 
Or  faith,  I'll  wad  my  new  pleugh-pettle, 

You'll  see't  or  lani^. 
She'll  teach  you,  wi'  a  reekin  whittle, 

Anither  sang. 

This  while  she's  been  in  cank'rous  mood, 
Her  lost  militia  fired  her  bluid  ; 
(Deil  na  they  never  mair  do  guid, 

Play'd  her  that  pliskie!) 
And  now  she's  like  to  rin  red-wud 

About  her  whiskj'. 

Ah',  L— d,  if  ance  they  pit  her  till't, 
Her  tartan  petticoat  she'll  kilt. 
An'  dark  an'  pistol  at  her  belt. 

She'll  tak  the  streets, 
An'  rin  her  whittle  to  the  hilt 

r  til'  first  she  meets ! 

Tor  God  sake,  sirs  !  then  speak  her  fair, 
An'  straik  her  cannie  wi'  the  hair. 
An'  to  the  muckle  house  repair, 

Wi'  instant  speed. 
An'  strive,  wi'  a'  your  wit  and  lear, 

To  get  remead. 

Yon  ill-tongued  tinkler,  Charlie  Fox^ 
Way  taunt  you  wi'  his  jeers  and  mocks 
But  gie  hini't  het,  my  hearty-cocks  ! 

E'en  cowe  the  caddie, 
AnJ  send  him  to  his  dicing-box 

And  sportin  lady. 


burns'  poems.  17 

Tell  yon  guid  bluid  o'  auld  JJoconnocJts, 
I'll  be  his  debt  twa  niashlum  bannocks, 
An'  drink  his  health  in  anld  Name  Tinnock's* 

Nine  times  a  week, 
If  he  some  scheme,  like  tea  and  winnocks, 

Wad  kindly  seek. 

Could  he  some  convmitation  broach, 
I'll  pledge  my  aith  in  gude  braid  Scotch, 
He  needna  fear  their  foul  reproach. 

Nor  erudition. 
Yon  mixtie-maxtie,  queer  hotch-potch, 

The  Coalition. 

Auld  Scotland  has  a  raucle  tongue ; 
She's  just  a  deevil  wi'  a  rung  ; 
An'  if  she  promised  auld  or  young 

To  tak  their'part, 
Though  by  the  neck  she  should  be  strung, 

She'll  no  desert, 

An'  now,  ye  chosen  Five-and-forty, 
May  still  your  Mither's  heart  support  ye  ; 
Then,  though  a  minister  grow  dorty, 

An'  kick  your  place, 
Ye'll  snap  your  fingers,  poor  and  hearty. 

Before  his  face. 

God  bless  your  Honours  a'  your  days, 
Wi'  soups  o'  kail  and  brats  o'  claise. 
In  spite  o'  a'  the  thievish  kaes 

That  haunt  .S'^.  Jamie's ! 
Your  humble  poet  sings  an'  prays 

While  Rab  his  name  is. 


*  A  worthy  old  hostess  of  the  author's  in  Mauchline,  wiicre 
be  sometimes  studied  politics  over  a  glass  of  gude  auld  Scuicii 
Drink. 

17  c 


18  n urns'   poems. 


POSTSCRIPT. 

Let  hauf-starved  slaves  in  warmer  skies, 
See  future  wines  rich  clust'ring  rise  ; 
Their  lot  auld  Scotland  ne'or  envies, 

But  blythe  and  frisky, 
She  eyes  her  free-born,  martial  boys, 

Tak  afF  their  whisky. 

What  though  their  Phoebus  kinder  warms, 
While  fragrance  blooms  and  beauty  charms  ! 
When  wretches  ran<re  in  famished  swarms 

The  scented  groves, 
Or  bounded  forth,  dishonour  arms 

In  hungry  droves. 

Their  gun's  a  burdon  on  their  shouther  ; 
They  downa  bide  the  stink  o'  powther ; 
Their  bauldest  thought's  a  hankering  swither 

To  stan'  or  run, 
Till  skelp— a  shot — they're  afF,  a'  throwther, 

To  save  their  skin. 

But  bring  a  Scotsman  frae  his  hill, 
Clap  in  his  cheek  a  Highland  gill, 
Say,  sic  is  royal  George's  will,    " 

And  there's  the  foe, 
He  has  nae  thought  but  how  to  kill 

Twa  at  a  blow. 

Nae  cauld,  faint-hearted  doubtings  tease  him  ; 
Death  comes ! — wi'  fearless  ee  he  sees  him  ; 
Wi'  bluidy  hand  a  welcome  gies  him  ; 

And  when  he  fa's. 
Ills  latest  draught  o'  breathin'  lea'es  him 

In  faint  huzzas. 


burns'  roEMs.  19 

Sajres  their  solemn  een  may  steek, 
And  raise  a  philosophic  reek, 
And  physically  causes  seek, 

In  clime  and  season  ; 
But  teli  me  WhlsJ{i/'s  name  in  Greek, 

I'll  tell  the  reason. 

Scotland,  my  auld,  respected  Mither  ! 
Thouirh  whyies  ye  moistify  your  leather, 
Till  whare  ye  sit,  on  craps  o'  heather, 

Ye  tine  your  dam: 
Freedom  and  WhisJfif  gan  thegither, 

Tak  a  IF  your  dram! 


THE  HOLY  FAIR.* 


A  robe  of  secminp;  truth  and  trust 

His  crafty  observation ; 
And  secret  hunp,  with  jjoison'd  crust, 

The  dirk  of  Defamation  : 
A  mask  that  like  the  gorf^et  show'd, 

D.ve-varying  on  the  pigeon; 
And  for  a  mantle  large  and  oroad, 

He  wrapt  him  in  religion. 

H>fpocrisj/-la-Mode. 


Upon  a  simmer  Sunday  morn, 

When  Nature's  face  was  fair, 
I  walked  forth  to  view  the  corn. 

And  snuff  the  caller  air : 
The  rising  sun  o'er  Galston  muirs, 

Wi'  glorious  light  was  glintin  ; 
The  hares  were  hirpling  down  tlie  furs, 

The  lav'rocks  they  were  chantin 
Fu'  sweet  that  day. 

*  Holy  Fair  is  a  common  phrase  in  the  West  of  Scotland 
for  a  Sacramental  occasion. 


20  m  UNs'  roKMS. 

A»  lii^htsomcly  I  j(lo\vr'd  abroad. 

To  see  a  scene  po  iiay, 
Tliree  liizzies,  early  at  the  road, 

Cam  skelpin  up  tlie  way  : 
Twa  Iiad  inanteeles  o'  dolefu'  black, 

But  aiie  vvi'  lyart  lining  ; 
Tlic  third,  that  gaed  a-wee  a-back, 

Was  in  the  fashion  shining, 

Fu'  gay  that  day. 

Tiie  twa  appear'd  like  sisters  twin, 

In  feature,  form,  and  claes  ; 
Their  visage  wither'd,  lang,  and  thin, 

And  sour  as  ony  slac-s  ; 
Tilt!  tliird  cam  up,  hap-stap-andloup, 

As  light  as  ony  lambie, 
And  wi'  a  kutchie  low  did  stoop, 

As  soon  as  e'er  she  saw  me. 

Fu'  kind  that  day. 

Wi'  bonnet  aff,  quoth  I,  "  Sweet  lass, 

I  think  ye  seem  to  ken  me  ; 
I'm  sure  I've  seen  that  bonny  face. 

But  yet  I  canna  name  ye." 
Quo'  she,  and  laughing  as  she  spak, 

An'  taks  me  by  the  hands, 
'*  Ye  for  my  sake,  hae  gi'en  the  feck 

Of  a'  the  Ten  Commands 

A  screed  some  day. 

"  My  name  is  Fun — your  cronie  dear, 

The  nearest  friend  ye  hae  ; 
And  this  is  Superstition  here, 

And  that  Hypocrisij. 
I'm  gaun  to  ********  Holy  Fair, 

To  spend  an  hour  in  daffin  ; 
Gin  ye'll  gae  there,  yon  runkled  pair, 

We  v^iil  get  famous  laughin' 

At  them  this  dav." 


burns'  poems.  21 

Quoth  1, "  W'i'  a'  my  heart,  I'll  do't : 

I'll  get  my  Snnday's  sark  on, 
And  meet  you  on  the  holy  spot ; 

Faith,  we'se  hae  fine  reinarkin  !" 
Then  I  jj^aed  hame  at  crowdie-time, 

And  soon  I  made  me  ready  ; 
For  roads  were  clad  frae  side  to  side, 

Wi'  mony  a  weary  body, 

In  droves  that  day. 

Here  farmers  gash,  in  riding  graith, 

Gaed  hoddin  by  their  cottars  ; 
There,  swankies  young,  in  braw  braid  claith, 

Are  swingin  o'er  the  gutters. 
The  lasses,  skelpin  barefit,  thrang, 

In  silks  and  scarlets  glitter; 
Wi'  sweet  milk-cheese  in  mony  a  whang, 

And  farls  baked  wi'  butter, 

Fu'  crump  that  day. 

Wiien  by  the  plate  we  set  our  nose, 

Weel  heaped  uj)  wi'  ha'pence, 
A  greedy  glowr  Black  Bonnet  throws, 

And  we  maun  draw  our  tippence. 
Then  in  we  go  to  see  the  show. 

On  every  side  they're  gatherin, 
Some  gathering  dales,  some  chairs  and  stools 

And  some  are  busy  blethrin 

Right  loud  that  day. 

I  Here  stands  a  shed  to  fend  the  show'rs, 

An'  screen  our  countra  Gentry, 
1  There  racer  Jess,  an'  twa-three  wh-res. 

Are  blinkin  at  the  entry. 
I  Here  sits  a  raw  of  tittling  jades, 

Wi'  heaving  breast  and  bare  neck. 
And  there  a  batch  o'  wabster  lads, 

Biackguardin  frae  K ck 

Vorfun  this  day. 


2  IIKKNS      r(.)KSIS. 

Here  some  are  think  in  on  their  sins, 

An'  some  upon  their  daes  ; 
Ane  curses  i'cet  tliat  iylM  his  shins, 

Anither  sijjjiis  and  prays  : 
On  tliis  hanrl  sits  a  chosen  swatch, 

Wi'  screw'd  up  tcrace-proud  faces; 
On  that  a  set  o'  cliaps  at  watch, 

Thrang  winkin  on  the  lasses 

To  cha'rs  that  day. 

O  happy  is  that  man  and  blest ! 

Nae  wonder  that  it  pride  him  ! 
"Wha's  ain  dear  lass,  tliat  he  likes  best, 

Comes  clinkin  down  beside  him. 
Wi'  arm  repos'd  on  the  chair  back, 

He  sweetly  does  compose  him, 
Which  by  degrees,  slips  round  her  neck, 

All's  loof  upon  her  bosom, 

Unkenn'd  that  day. 

Now  a'  the  congregation  o'er 

In  silent  expectation  ; 
For  M***ie  speels  the  holy  door, 

Wi'  tidings  o'  d-mn-t— n. 
Should  Ilornie  as  in  ancient  days, 

'Mang  sons  o'  G—  present  him, 
The  vera  sight  o'  M**  *ie's  face, 

To's  ain  het  home  had  sent  him 
Wi'  fright  that  day. 

Hear  how  he  clears  the  points  o'  faith, 

Wi'  rattlin  and  wi'  thumpin ; 
How  meekly  calm,  how  wild  in  wrath, 

He's  stanipin  and  he's  jumpin  ! 
His  lengthen'd  chin,  his  turn'd  up  snout, 

His  eldritch  squeel  and  gestures, 
Oh  !  how  they  fire  the  heart  devout. 

Like  cantharidian  plasters, 
On  ?ic  a  dav. 


BURNS     POEMS.  23 

But  hark !  tlie  teiit  ]ias  changed  its  voice ; 

There's  peace  and  rest  nae  langer  ; 
For  a'  the  real  judges  rise, 

They  canna  sit  for  anf?er. 
S**th"opens  out  his  cauld  harangues 

On  practice  and  on  morals  ; 
And  affthe  godly  pour  in  thrangs, 

To  gie  the  jars  and  barrels 

A  lift  that  day. 

What  signifies  his  barren  sliine 

Of  moral  powers  and  reason  ? 
His  English  style,  and  gestures  fine, 

Are  a'  clean  out  o'  season. 
Like  Socrates  or  Antomine, 

Or  some  auld  pagan  heathen, 
The  moral  man  he  does  define, 

But  near  a  word  o'  faith  in 

That's  right  that  day. 

In  guid  time  comes  an  antidote 

Against  sic  poisoned  nostrum ; 
P**bles,  frae  the  water-fit, 

Ascends  the  holy  rostrum  : 
See,  up  he's  got  the  word  o'  G— , 

And  meek  and  raim  has  view'd  it, 
While  Common  Sense  has  ta'en  the  road, 

And  aff,  and  up  the  Cowgate,* 
Fast,  fast  that  day. 

Wee  M****r,  neist,  the  guard  relieves, 

And  Orthodoxy  raibles, 
Though  in  his  heart  he  weel  believes, 

And  thinks  it  auld  wife's  fables  ; 
But  faith !  the  birkie  wants  a  manse. 

So  cannily  he  hums  them ; 


•  A  street  so  called  wiiich  fac^s  the  tent  in  K . 


t  IJUKNS'    POEMS. 

Althoupli  liis  carnal  wit  and  sense 

Like  haftins-way  oNtcomu'S  liira, 

At  times  that  day. 

Now  butt  and  ben  the  chanp:e-house  fills 

Wi'  yill-caup  commentators ; 
Here's  crying  out  for  bakes  and  gills, 

And  there  the  pint-stoup  clatters ; 
While  thick  and  thrang,  and  loud  and  lang, 

Wi'  Logic  and  wi'  Scripture, 
They  raise  a  din,  that  in  tlie  end 

Is  like  to  breed  a  rupture. 

O'  wrath  that  day. 

Leeze  rae  on  Drink  !  it  gies  us  mair 

Than  either  School  or  College, 
It  kindles  Wit,  it  waukens  Lear, 

It  bangs  us  fu'  o'  Knowledge: 
Be't  whisky-gill,  or  penny  wheep, 

Or  ony  stronger  potion, 
It  never  fails,  on  drinking  deep, 

To  kittle  up  our  notion, 

By  night  or  day. 

The  lads  and  lasses,  blyth^ly  bent 

To  mind  baith  soul  and  body. 
Sit  round  the  table  weel  content. 

And  steer  about  the  toddy. 
On  this  ane's  dress,  and  that  ane's  leuk. 

They're  making  observations  ; 
While  some  are  cozie  i'  the  neuk, 

And  forming  assignations, 

To  meet  some  day. 

But  now  the  L — d's  ain  trumpet  touts, 

Till  a'  the  hills  are  rairin. 
And  echoes  back  return  the  shouts  : 

I'llack  R****l  is  na  spairin  ; 


lllJRiNS      I'OKMS. 

His  piercing  words,  like  Highland  swords, 
Divide  the  joints  and  rnarrow  ; 

His  talk  o'  H-11,  whare  devils  dwell, 
Our  vera  sauls  does  harrow  !* 

Wi'  fright  that  day. 

A  vast  unbottom'd  boundless  pit, 

Fill'd  fu'  o'  lowin  brunstane, 
Wha's  ragin  flame,  and  scorchin  heat, 

Wad  melt  the  liardest  whun-stane  ! 
The  hauf  asleep  start  up  wi'  fear, 

And  think  tiiey  hear  it  roarin, 
When  presently  it  does  appear, 

'Twas  but  some  neighbour  snoria 
Asleep  that  day. 

Twad  be  owre  lang  a  tale  to  tell 

How  mony  stories  past, 
And  how  they  crowded  to  the  yill. 

When  they  were  a'  dismist ; 
How  drink  gaed  round,  in  cogs  and  caups, 

Amang  the  furms  and  benches. 
And  cheese  and  bread,  frae  women's  laps, 

Was  dealt  about  in  lunches. 

An'  dawds  that  day. 

In  comes  a  gaucie,  gasii  Gudewife, 

And  sits  down  by  the  lire, 
Syne  draws  her  kebbuck  and  her  knife  ; 

The  lasses  they  are  shyer. 
Tiie  auld  Gudemen,  about  the  grace, 

From  side  to  side  they  bother, 
Till  some  ane  by  his  bonnet  lays. 

And  gies  tliem't  like  a  tether, 
Fu'  lang  that  day 

•  Sliakspoare's  Miimlot. 


'2Ct  BTUNS      POEMS. 

Waesuck's  for  him  that  frets  nae  lass, 

Or  hisses  that  liae  naethintj ! 
Sma'  need  has  he  to  say  a  a,race, 

Or  uielvle  his  hraw  claithing  ! 
O  wives,  be  niindl'ii',  anco  yoursel, 

How  bonnie  huis  ye  v/anted, 
And  dinna  for  a  kebbuck-heel, 

Let  lasses  be  affronted 

Ou  sic  a  day. 

Now  ClmJtUJnbell,  wi'  rattling  tow 

Begins  to  jow  and  croon  ; 
Some  swau'trer  haine  the  best  they  dow, 

Some  wait  the  afternoon. 
At  slaps  the  billies  halt  a  blink, 

Till  lasses  strip  their  shoon  ; 
Wi'  faith  and  hope,  and  love  and  drink, 

They're  a'  in  famous  tune 

For  crack  that  day. 

IIow  raony  hearts  this  day  converts, 

O'  sinners  and  o'  lasses  ! 
Their  hearts  o'  stane,  giu  night  are  gane 

As  soft  as  ony  flesh  is. 
There's  some  are  fou  o'  love  divine  ; 

There's  some  are  fou  o'  brandy  ; 
An'  mony  jobs  that  day  begin. 

May  end  in  Hougmagandie 
Some  ither  daj'. 

DEATH  AND  DR.  HORNBOOK. 

A   TRUE   STORY. 

Some  books  are  lies  frae  end  to  end, 
Ami  some  great  lies  were  never  penn'd  ; 


burns'  poems,  27 

Ev'n  ministers,  they  hae  been  kenn'd, 

In  holy  rapture, 
A  rousing  whid,  at  times  to  vend. 

And  nail't  wi'  Scripture. 

But  this  that  I  am  gaun  to  tell, 
Which  lately  on  a  night  befell, 
Is  just  as  true's  the  Deil'S  in  hell. 

Or  Dublin  city ; 
That  e'er  he  nearer  comes  oursel 

'S  a  muckle  pity. 

The  Clachan  yill  had  made  me  canty, 

I  was  na  fou,  but  just  had  plenty  ; 

I  stacher'd  whyles,  but  yet  took  tent  ay 

To  free  the  ditches  : 
And  hillocks,  stanes,  and  bushes,  kenn'd  ay 

Frae  ghaists  and  witches. 

The  rising  moon  began  to  glow'r 
The  distant  Cumnock  hills  out-owre  ; 
To  count  her  horns  wi'  a'  my  pow'r 

I  set  raysel ; 
But  whether  sho  had  three  or  four, 

I  cou'dna  tell. 

I  was  come  round  about  the  hill, 
And  todlin  down  on  Willie's  mill, 
Setting  mv  staff  wi'  a'  my  skill. 

To  keep  me  sicker; 
Though  leeward  whyles  against  my  will, 

I  took  a  bicker. 

I  there  wi'  Something  did  forgather, 

That  put  me  in  an  eerie  swither ; 

An  awfu'  scythe,  out-owre  ae  shouther, 

Clear-dangling  hang ; 
A  three  -taed  leister  on  the  ither 

Lay,  large  and  lang. 


»>tt  BIRNS'    I'OEMS. 

Its  stature  secni'd  lanjr  Scotch  ells  twa, 
The  queerest  shaj)e  that  e'er  I  3a\v, 
For  fitiit  a  wanie  it  had  ava ! 

Aud  then  its  shanks, 
They  were  as  thin,  as  sliarp,  as  snia 

As  cheeks  o'  brank,^  ! 

"  Gude-een,"  quo'  I ;  "  Friend  !  hae  ye  been  mawin, 
When  ither  folk  are  busy  sawin  ?"* 
It  seeni'd  to  luak  a  kind  o'  staun, 

But  naethinj?  spak ; 
At  lenjjth,  says  I,  '•  Friend  !  whare  ye  gann  ? 

Will  ye  gae  back  ?" 

It  spak  riffht  howe  : — "  My  name  is  Death  — 
But  be  no^fleyd."— Quoth  I,  "  Gude  faith, 
Ye're  may  be  come  to  stop  my  breath  ; 

But  tent  me,  billie; 
I  red  ye  weel,  tak  care  o'  skaith, 

See,  there's  a  gully !" 

"Gudeman,"  quo'  he,  "  put  up  your  whittle, 
I'm  no  design'd  to  try  its  mettle  ! 
But  if  I  did,  I  wad  be  kittle 

To  be  mislear'd, 
I  wadna  mind  it,  no  that  spittle  ; 

Out-ovvre  my  beard." 

"  Weel,  weel,"  says  I,  "a  bargain  be't; 
Come,  gie's  your  hand,  and  say  we're  greet ; 
We'll  ease  our  shanks  and  tak  a  seat. 

Come,  gie's  your  news ; 
This  whilet  ye  hae  been  mony  a  gate. 

At  mony  a  house." 

•  This  rencounter  hsippened  in   seed-time,   in  1785. 
t  An  epidemical  fever  was  then   raging  in  that  country. 


burns'  vokms.  29 

"  Ay,  ay  !"  quo'  he,  and  shook  his  head, 
"  It's  e'en  a  lang,  lang  time  indeed 
Sin'  I  began  to  nick  the  thread, 

And  choke  the  breath  : 
Folk  maun  do  something  for  their  bread, 

And  sae  maun  Death. 

"  Sax  tliousand  years  are  near  hand  fled. 
Sin'  I  was  to  the  butcli'ring  bred, 
And  raony  a  scheme  in  vain's  been  laid 

To  stap  or  scaur  me  ; 
Till  ane  Hornbook's*  taen  up  the  trade, 

And  faith  he'll  waur  me. 

"  Ye  ken  Jock  Hornbook  V  the  Clachan 
Deil  raak  his  kiiig's-hood  in  a  spleuchan  ! 
He's  grown  sae  weel  acquaint  wi'  Buchan\ 

And  ither  chaps, 
The  weans  baud  out  their  fingers,  laughin 

And  pouk  my  hips. 

"  See,  here's  a  scythe,  afld  there's  a  dart, 
They  hae  pierced  mony  a  gallant  heart : 
But  Doctor  Hornbook,  wi'  his  art 

And  cursed  skill. 
Has  made  them  baith  nae  worth  a  f— t, 

Daran'd  haet  they'll  kill. 

"  'Twas  but  yestreen,  na  farther  gane, 
I  threw  a  noble  dart  at  ane : 
Wi'  less,  I'm  sure,  I've  hundreds  slain  ; 
But  deil-ma-care, 


•  This  gentleman.  Dr.  Hornbook,  is  professionally  a  brother 
of  the  Sovereign  Order  of  tiie  Ferula  ;_but,  by  intuition  and 
inspiration,  is  at  once  an  Apothecary,  Snrgeon,  and  Physician 

t  Buchan's  Domestic  Medicine. 


3)  BUKNS'    POEMS. 

It  just  play'tl  dirl  on  the  bane, 

But  did  nae  niair. 

"  Horuhook  was  by,  wi'  ready  art, 
And  had  sae  fortified  tlie  part, 
That  when  I  looked  to  my  dart. 

It  was  sae  blunt, 
Fient  haet  o't  wad  hae  pierc'd  the  heart 

0'  a  kail-runt. 

"  I  drew  my  scythe  in  sic  a  fury, 
I  near-hand  cowpit  wi'  my  hurry, 
But  yet  the  bauld  Apothecary 

Withstood  the  shock  ; 
I  might  as  weel  hae  tried  a  quarry 

O'  hard  whin-rock. 

"  Ev'n  them  he  canna  get  attended, 
Although  their  face  he  ne'r  had  kenn'd  it, 
Tust in  a  kail-blade  and  send  it ; 

As  soon's  he  smells't, 
Baith  their  disease,  and  what  will  mend  it, 

At  ance  he  tell'st. 

"  And  then  o'  doctor's  saws  and  whittles, 
Of  a'  dimensions,  shapes,  and  mettles, 
A'  kinds  o'  boxes,  mugs,  and  bottles, 

He's  sure  to  hae : 
Their  Latin  names  as  fast  he  rattles 

As  A,  B,  C. 

"  Calces  o'  fossils,  earth,  and  trees  j 
True  sal-marinum  o'  the  seas  ; 
The  farina  o'  beans  and  pease, 

He  has't  in  plenty ; 
Aqua-fontis,  what  you  please, 

He  can  content  ye. 


BUKNS'    POEMS.  31 

"  Forbye  some  new  uncommon  weapons, 

Urinns  spiritus  o'  capons  : 

Or  mite-horn  slmvintrs,  filings,  scrapings, 

Distiird  2}cr  se ; 
Sal-alkali  o'  midge-tail  clippinars, 

And  monie  mae." 

"  Waes  me  for  Johnny  GccVs  Hole*  now," 
Quoth  I,  "  if  that  the'news  be  true  ! 
His  braw  calf-ward,  whare  gowans  grew 

Sae  white  and  bonny, 
Nae  doubt  they'll  rive  it  wi'  the  plew : 

They'll  ruin  Johnny  V 

The  creature  grain 'd  an  eldritch  laugh. 
And  says,  "  Ye  needna  yoke  the  pleugh, 
Kirk-yards  will  soon  be  till'd  eneugh, 

Tak  ye  na  fear  ; 
They'll  a'  be  trench'd  wi'  mony  a  sheugh, 

In  twa-three  year. 

"  Where  I  kili'd  ane  a  fair  strae  death, 
By  loss  o'  bluid,  or  want  o'  breath, 
This  night  I'm  free  to  tak  my  aith, 

That  Hornbook's  skill, 
Has  clad  a  score  i'  their  last  claith, 

By  drap  and  pill. 

"  An  honest  Wabster  to  his  trade, 

Whase  wife's  twa  nieves  were  scarce  weel-bred, 

Gat  tippence-worth  to  mend  her  head, 

When  it  was  sair  ; 
The  wife  slade  cannie  to  her  bed. 

But  ne'er  spak  mair. 


•  The  grave-digger. 


32  uuiiNs'  roEMS. 

**  A  countra  Lainl  liad  ta'eii  the  batts, 
Or  some  curmunins^  in  his  guts  ; 
His  only  son  for  Hornbook  sets, 

And  pays  him  well : 
The  lad,  for  twa  yude  jiimmer  pets, 

Was  Laird  hirasel'. 

"  A  bonny  lass,  ye  kenn'd  her  naine, 

Some  ill-brewn  drink  had  hoved  her  vvame  ; 

She  trusts  hersel,  to  hide  the  shame, 

In  Hornbook's  care ; 
Horn  sent  her  afF  to  lier  lang  hame, 

To  liide  it  tiiere. 

"  That's  just  a  swatch  o'  Hornbook's  way; 
Thus  goes  he  on  from  day  to  day. 
Thus  does  he  poison,  kill^  an'  slay, 

An's  weel  paid  for't ; 
Yet  stops  me  o'  ray  lawfu'  prey 

Wi'  his  d-mn'd  dirt : 

"  But,  hark  !  I'll  tell  you  of  a  plot, 
Tho'  dinna  ye  be  speaking  o't ; 
I'll  nail  the  self-conceited  Scot 

As  dead's  a  herrin  : 
Niest  time  we  meet,  I  wad  a  groat, 

He  gets  his  fairin !" 

But  just  as  he  began  to  tell, 

The  auld  kirk-hammer  strak  the  bell 

Some  wee  short  hour  ayont  the  Uval, 

Which  rais'd  us  baith  : 
I  took  the  way  that  pleas'd  mysel. 

And  sae  did  Death. 


BURNS*    POEMS.  33 


THE  BRIGS  OF  AYR 


Inscribed  to  J.  Ballamttne,  Esq.  Ayr. 

The  simple  Bard,  rouprh  at  the  rustic  plough,         , 

Learning-  his  tuneful  trade  from  every  bougli ; 

The  chanting  linnet,  or  the  mellow  thrush, 

Hailing  the  setting  sun,  sweet,  in  the  green  tliorn  bush  , 

The  soaring  lark,  tlie  perchins:  redbreast  shrill, 

Ordeep-ton'd  plovers,  gray,wildwhistlingo'er  the  hill ; 

Shall  he,  nurs'd  in  the" Peasant's  lowly  slied, 

To  hardy  Independence  bravely  bred,' 

By  early  Poverty  to  hardship  steel'd. 

And  train'd  to  arms  in  stern  jNIisfortune's  field, 

Shall  he  be  guilty  of  their  hireling  crimes, 

The  servile,  mercenary  Swiss  of  rhymes? 

Or  labour  hard  the  panegyric  close. 

With  all  the  venal  soul  of  dedicating  Prose  ? 

No  !  though  his  artless  strains  he  rudely  sings, 

And  throws  his  hand  uncouthly  o'er  the  strings, 

He  glows  with  all  the  spirit  of  the  Bard, 

Fame,  honest  Fame,  his  great,  his  dear  reward. 

Still,  if  some  Patron's  gen'rous  care  he  trace, 

Skill'd  in  the  secret,  to  bestow  v.'ith  grace ; 

When  Ballantyne  befriends  his  humble  name, 

And  hands  the  rustic  stranger  up  to  fame, 

With  heart-felt  throes  his  grateful  bosom  swells 

The  godlike  bliss,  to  give,  alone  excels. 


'Twas  when  the  stacks  get  on  their  winter  hap, 
And  thack  and  rape  secure  the  toil-worn  crap  ; 
Potato-bings  are  snugged  up  frae  skaith 
Of  coming  Winter's  bitivi'i-  frosty  breath  : 
17  D  '  ■ 


34  burns'    I'OK.MS. 

The  bees,  rejoicing  o'er  their  summer  toils, 
IJimiimber'd  buds  and  flow'rs,  delicious  spoils, 
Seal'd  up  witii  fru;,Ml  cure  in  massive  waxen  pile?, 
Are  doom'd  by  man,  that  tyrant  o'er  the  weak, 
The  death  o'  devils,  smoor'il  wi'  brimstone  reek  : 
Tlie  thunderinff  guns  are  heard  on  evey  side. 
The  wounded  coveys,  reeling,  scatter  wide; 
The  leather'd  field  mates,  bound  by  Nature's  tie, 
Sires,  motliers,  children,  in  one  carnage  lie  : 
(What  warm,  poetic  heart,  but  inly  bleeds. 
And  execrates  niari's  savage,  ruthless  deeds  !) 
Nae  mair  the  flow'r  in  tield  or  meadow  springs ; 
Niib  mair  the  grove  witli  airy  concert  rings, 
Except,  perhaps,  the  robin's  whistling  glee. 
Proud  o'  the  height  o'  some  bit  haut-laug  tree ; 
The  hoary  morns  precede  the  sunny  days. 
Mild,  calm,  serene,  wide  spreads  the  noontide  blaze 
While  thick  the  gossamer  waves  wanton  in  the  rays. 
'Twas  in  that  season,  when  a  simple  Burd, 
Unknown  and  poor,  simplicity's  reward, 
Ae  night,  within  the  ancient  brugh  o'  Ayr, 
By  whim  inspir'd,  or  haply  prest  wi'  care, 
lie  left  his  bed,  and  took  his  wayward  route. 
And  down  by  Sl/ttpsou's*  wheel'd  the  left  about ; 
(Wiiether  impell'd  by  all-directiug  Fate, 
To  witness  what  I  after  shall  narrate  ; 
Or  whether  wrapt  in  meditation  high, 
He  wander'd  out  he  knew  not  where  nor  why  :) 
The  drowsy  Danijeon-clocki  had  nuraber'd  two, 
And  Wallace  Toicer\  had  sworn  the  fact  was  tiue  . 
The  tide-swoln  frith,  with  sullen  sounding  roar, 
Through  the  still  night  dash'd  hoarse  along  the  shore; 
All  else  was  hush'd  as  Nature's  closed  ee  ; 
Tlie  silent  moon  shone  high  o'er  tow'r  and  tree  : 


*  A  noted  tavern  at  the  Auld  Brij  end. 
t  Tlie  two  steeples. 


burns'  poems.  3.3 

Tlie  chilly  frost  beneath  the  silver  beam, 

Crept,  gently-crusting,  o'er  the  glittering  stream — 

When  lo  !  on  either  hand  the  list'ning  Bard, 
Tlie  clanging  sugh  of  whistling  winds  he  heard  ; 
Two  dusky  forms  dart  thro'  the  midnight  air, 
Swift  as  the  Goas*  drives  on  the  wheeling  hare ; 
Ane  on  the  Aiild  Brig  his  airy  shape  uprears, 
The  itlier  flutters  o'er  the  rising  piers. 
Our  warlike  Rhymer  instantly  descry'd 
The  Sprites  that  owre  the  Brigs  of  Ayr  preside, 
(That  Bards  are  second-sighted  is  nae  joke. 
And  ken  the  lingo  o'the  sp'ritual  folk  : 
Fays,  Spunkies,  Kelpies,  a'  they  can  explain  them, 
And  ev'n  the  very  deils  they  brawly  ken  them.) 
Auld  Brig  appear'd  of  ancient  Pictish  race. 
The  very  wrinkles  Gotliic  in  his  face  ; 
He  seem'd  as  he  wi'  Time  liad  warsl'd  lang, 
Yet,  teughly  doure,  he  bade  an  unco  bang. 
Neiu  Brig  was  buskit  in  a  braw  new  coat, 
That  he,  at  Lon'ou,  frae  ane  Adams  got ; 
In's  liand  five  taper  staves  as  smooth's  a  bead, 
Wi'  virls  and  whirlygigums  at  the  head. 
The  Goth  was  stauking  round  wi'  anxious  search, 
Spyhig  the  time-worn  flaws  in  every  arch  ; 
[t  chanc'd  his  new  come  neighbour  took  his  ee, 
(V.nd  e'en  a  vex'd  and  angry  heart  had  he ; 
WV  tliieveless  sneer  to  see  his  modish  mien, 
tie,  down  tlie  water,  gies  him  this  gude-e'en — 

AULD    BRIG. 

'  doubt  na,  frien',  ye'Il  think  ye're  nae  sheep-shank, 
Vnce  ye  were  streekit  o'er  frae  bank  to  bank, 
Jut  gin  ye  be  a  brig  as  auld  as  me, 
.^ho'  faitli,  that  day,  I  doubt,  ye'll.never  see  ; 


TIk;  Goss-liuwk,  or  Falcon. 


30  HUKNS'    I'OKMS. 

There'll  bf,  if  l.li;it  day  come,  TU  wad  a  boddjp, 
Suiue  fewer  vvhigmeleerii-s  in  your  noddle. 

NEW   BHIG. 

Auld  Vandal,  ye  but  show  your  little  raense, 
Just  much  al)oi]t  it  wi'  your  scanty  sense  ; 
VVill  your  poor  narrow  loot-path  o'  a  street, 
Wliere  twa  wheelbarrows  tremble  when  they  meet, 
Your  ruin'd,  formless  bulk,  o'  stane  and  lime, 
Compare  wi'  bonny  Brlr/s  o'  modern  time  ? 
There's  men  o'  taste  wad  tak  the  Ducat  stream'* 
Tho'  they  should  cast  the  very  sark  and  swim, 
Ere  they  wad  grate  their  feelings  wi'  the  view 
O'  sic  au  ugly  Gothic  hulk  as  you, 

AULD  BRIG. 

Conceited  gowk  !  pufTd  up  wi'  windy  pride  ! 

This  mony  a  year  I've  stood  the  flood  and  tide ; 

And  tlio'  wi'  crazy  eild  I'm  sair  forlairn, 

I'll  be  a  Brig  when  ye're  a  shapeless  cairn  ! 

As  yet  ye  little  ken  about  the  matter, 

But  twa-three  winters  will  inform  ye  better. 

When  heavy,  dark,  continued  a'-day  rains, 

Wi'  deepening  deluu'es  o'erflow  tiie  plains  ; 

When  from  the  hills,  where  sprintrs  the  brawling  C'oi/, 

Or  stately  Lugar^s  mossy  fountains  boil, 

Or  where  the  Greenock  winds  his  moorland  course, 

Or  haunted  Garpal\  draws  his  feeble  source, 

Arous'd  by  blust'ring  winds  and  spotting  thowes, 

In  mony  a  torrent  down  the  snaw-broo  rowes  ; 

While  crasliing  ice,  born  on  the  roaring  speat. 

Sweeps  dams,  and  milis,  and  brigs,  a'  to  the  gate; 

*  A  Motocl  ford,  just  above  the  Auld  Brig, 
t  The  banks  of  Garpal   Water  is  one  of  the  few  place8' 
\n  the  West  of  Srotliuid,   where  those  fancj-scaririK  beings, 
known  by  the  name  of  Ghmsts,  still  continue  pertinacioii««y 
to  inhabit. 


IJUKiNS'     i'OK.MS.  37 

AvA  from  Glenhuck*  down  lo  tlie  Rdttcn-linj^i 
Auld  Aijr  is  just  one  U^iijitlu-nM  tiunblin*;  scaj 
Then  down  ye'll  linrl— deil  nor  yn  never  rise  !    ~ 
And  dash  tho  junilie  joiips  up  to  the  pouring  skies. 
A  lesson,  sadly  te:ichinp-,  to  your  cost, 
That  Architecture's  noble  art  is  lost. 

NEW   BRIG. 

Fine  Arcldiectitre,  trowth,  I  needs  must  say't  o't ! 
The  L— d  bethankit  that  we've  tint  the  gate  o't' 
Gaunt,  ghastly,  gliaist-alluring  edifices, 
Hanaing,  with  tlireat'ning  jut,  like  precipjces  ; 
O'er-arching,  uiouldy,  jxloom-inspiring  coves, 
Supporting  roofs  fantastic,  stony  groves  ; 
Windows  and  doors  in  nameless  sculpture  drest,. 
"With  order,  symmetry,  or  taste  unhle?t; 
Forms,  like  some  bedlam-statuary's  dream, 
The  craz'd  creations  of  misguided  whim  ; 
Forms  might  be  worsliipp'<l  on  the  bended  knee. 
And  still  the  second  dread  coininand  be  free, 
Their  likeness  is  not  found  on  earth,  in  air  or  sea  ; 
Mansions  that  would  disgrace  the  building  taste 
Of  any  mason,  reptile,  bird,  or  beast ; 
Fit  only  for  a  doited  monkish  race, 
Or  fros'ty  maids  forsworn  the  dear  embrace  ; 
Or  cuifs  of  latter  times,  wha  held  the  notion 
That  sullen  gloom  was  sterling  true  devotion  ; 
Fancies  that  our  good  Bru^h  denies  protection, 
And  soon  may  they  expire,  unblest  with  resurrection  ! 

AULD    BRIG. 

O  ye,  my  dear-remember'd  ancient  yealings. 
Were  ye  but  here  to  share  my  wounded  feelings  ! 


•  The  source  of  the  river  A  jr. 
♦  A  6ninll  landing-pluce  above  the  large  key. 


3S  bUKNS'    I'OEMS. 

Ye  wortliy  Provcses  and  niony  a  Bailie, 
Wlia  in  the  paths  o'  righteousness  did  toil  aye  : 
Ye  dainty  Dcucoiin,  and  ye  douce  Conveners, 
To  whom  our  moderns  are  but  causey-cleaners  ; 
Ye  Godly  Councils  wha  hae  blest  tli.is  town; 
Ye  podiy  Jirithrcn  o'  the  sacred  gown, 
^Vha  meekly  gie  your  hurdies  to  the  sniiters  ; 
(And  what  wad  now  be  stranire)  ye  godlij  Writers! 
A'  ye  douce  folk  I've  born  aboon  the  broo, 
Were  ye  but  here,  what  wad  ye  say  or  do? 
How  would  your  spirits  groan  in  deep  vexation, 
To  see  each  melancholy  alteration  ; 
And,  agonizing,  curse  tiie  time  and  place 
When  ye  begat  the  base  degenerate  race  ! 
Nae  langer  Rev'rend  Men,  their  country's  glory, 
In  plain  braid  Scots  baud  forth  a  plain  braid  story  ! 
Nae  langer  thrifty  Citizens,  and  douce, 
Meet  owre  a  pint,  or  in  the  Council-house  ; 
But  staumrel,  corky-headed,  graceless  Gentry, 
Tlie  herrimeiit  and  ruin  of  the  country  : 
Men,  three-parts  made  by  tailors  and  by  barliers, 
Wha  waste  your  weel-hain'd  gear  on  d — d  new  Brigs 
and  Harbours ! 

NEW   BRIG. 

Now  baud  you  there  !  for  faith  ye've  said  enow, 

And  muckle  mair  than  ye  can  mak  to  through, 

As  for  your  priesthood,  I  shall  say  but  little, 

Corbies  and  Ctergij  are  a  shot  right  kittle  : 

But,  under  favour  o'  your  langer  beard, 

Abuse  o'  Magistrates  might  weel  be  spar'd  ; 

To  liken  them  to  your  auld-warl'  squad, 

I  must  needs  say,  comparisons  are  odd. 

In  Ayr,  Wag-wits  nae  mair  can  hae  a  handle 

To  mouth  '  a  Citizen,'  a  term  o'  scandal : 

Nae  mair  the  Council  waddles  down  the  street. 

In  a'  the  pomp  of  ignorant  conceit ; 

Men  wha  grew  wise  priggin  owre  hops  an'  raisins, 

Or  gather'd  liberal  views  in  bonds  and  seisins. 


i5()ii.\s    roRMs.  39 

If  haply  Knowledge,  on  a  random  tramp, 

Had  shor'd  them  wi'  a  glimmer  o'  his  lamp, 

And  would  to  Common-sense  for  ance  betray 'd  them, 

Plain,  dull  Stupidity  stept  kindly  in  to  aid  them. 


»Miat  farther  clishmaclaver  might  been  said. 
vVhat  bloody  wars,  if  Sprites  had  blood  to  shed, 
Xo  man  can  tell ;  but  all  before  their  sight, 
A  fairy  train  appear'd  in  order  briffht: 
Adown  the  glittering  stream  they  featly  danc'd 
Bright  to  tiie  moon  their  various  dresses  glanc'd  : 
They  footed  o'er  the  wat'ry  glass  so  neat. 
The  infant  ice  scarce  bent  beneath  their  feet ; 
While  arts  of  minstrelsy  among  them  rung, 
And  soul-ennobling  Bards  heroic  ditties  sung. 
O  had  M'  Laiich/an*  thairm-inspiring  Sage, 
Been  there  to  hear  this  heavenly  band  engage. 
When  through  his  dear  Strathspeys  they  bore  with 

Highland  rage, 
Or  when  they  struck  old  Scotia's  melting  airs, 
The  lover's  raptur'd  joys  or  "bleeding  cares  ; 
How  would  his  Hi"jliland  lug  been  nobler  fir'd, 
And  ev'n  his  matcliless  hand  with  finer  touch  inspir'd  I 
No  guess  could  tell  what  instrument  appear'd, 
But  all  the  soul  of  Music's  self  was  heard  ; 
Harmonious  concert  rung  in  every  part, 
While  simple  melody  pour'd  moving  on  the  heart 

The  Genius  of  the  Stream  in  front  appears, 
A  venerable  Chief,  advanc'd  in  years  ; 
His  hoary  head  with  water-lilies  crown'd, 
His  manly  leg  with  garter  tangle  bound. 
Next  came  the  loveliest  pair  in  all  the  ring, 
Sweet  Female  Beauty,  hand  in  hand  with  Spring  ; 


•  A  well-know  performer  of  Scottish  music  on  the  violin. 


40  unU.NS      POEMS. 

'llien  crownM  witli  flow'ry  )iay,  came  Rural  Joy, 
And  SuiiiiMer,  with  his  fiirviil-btvdminjj  eye  : 
All-chetTiiig  Pk-nty,  witli  lier  flowing  horn, 
Led  yellow  Autumn  wreafliM  with  nodding  corn  : 
Then"  Winter's  time-lilfacli'd  locks  did  hoary  show, 
By  Hospitality  witli  cloudless  brow. 
Next  lb  low'd  Coura'j:e  with  his  martial  stride. 
From  where  the  Feal  wild-woody  coverts  hide; 
Benevolence,  with  mild  benignant  air, 
A  fem;ilii  Ibrm,  came  from  the  tow'rs  of  Stair  ;* 
Learning  and  Worth  in  equiil  measures  trode 
From  simple  Oitrine,  their  long-lov'd  abode  : 
Last,  white-rob'd  Peace,  crown'd  witbahazel  wreath, 
To  rustic  Agriculture  did  bequeath 
The  broken  iron  instruments  of  death  ; 
At  sight  of  whom  our  Sprites  forgat  their  kindling 
wrath. 

THE  ORDINATION. 


For  sense,  they  little  owe  to  frugal  Heaven — 
To  please  the  Mob  they  hide  the  little  given. 


Kilmarnock  Wabsters,  fidge  and  claw, 

And  pour  your  creeshie  nations ; 
And  ye  wha  leather  rax  and  draw 

Of  a'  denominations  ; 
Swith  to  the  LaigJi  Kirk,  ane  and  a' 

And  there  tak  up  your  stations  ; 
Then  aft'  to  Berjhie's  in  a  raw, 

And  pour  divine  libations 

For  joy  this  day. 

•  The  poet  here  alludes  to  Mrs.  Stewart  of  Stair.— Stair  wag 
then  in  her  possession.  She  afterwards  removed  to  Afton- 
Lodge,  on  the  banks  of  the  Afton,  a  stream  which  he  after- 
wards celebrated  in  a  song,  entitled  "  Afton  Water." 


BURNS      i'OKMS.  41 

Curst  Coiiiinoii-Sense,  that  imp  o'  liell, 

Cam  ill  \vi'  Muggy  Lauder,* 
But  Oliphaiit  ait  nuule  her  yell, 

And  Russel  sair  luisca'd  her  ; 
Tliis  day  M'  Kiiilay  tales  the  flail, 

And  he's  tiie  boy  -will  blaud  her ! 
He'll  clap  a  aJimigan  on  her  tail, 

And  set  the  bairns  to  daub  hor 
\Vi'  dirt  this  day. 

Mak  haste  and  turn  King  David  owre, 

And  lilt  wi'  holy  clangor  ; 
O'  double  verse  come  gie  us  four, 

And  skirl  up  tiie  Bangor  : 
This  day  the  Kirk  kicks  up  a  stoure. 

Nae  mair  the  knaves  shall  wrang  iier, 
For  Heresy  is  in  her  power, 

And  gloriously  siie'll  whang  her 
Wi'  pith  this  day. 

Come,  let  a  proper  text  be  read, 

And  touch  it  ntf  with  vigour, 
How  graceless  JFnmj  leugli  at  his  dud, 

Which  made  Canaan  a  Niger  ; 
Or  PhineasX  drove  tlie  murdering  blade, 

Wi'  wh-re-abliorriug  rigour ; 
Or  Zlpporah,^  the  scaulding  jade, 

Was  like  a  bluidy  tiger 

1'  th'  inn  that  day. 

There,  try  his  mettle  on  the  creed, 
And  bind  him  down  wi'  caution. 


•  AUudinar  to  a  scoffin?  ballftd  which  was  made  on  the 
admission  of  the  late  Ileverend  and  worthy  Mr.  L.  to  the 
Laigh  Kirk. 

+  Genrsis,  ix.         +  Xiiinbcrs,  xxv.        §  Exodus,  iv. 


4-2  IHIKNS      I'OKMS, 

Tliat  stipend  is  a  carnal  wopA 
Up  taks  but  for  tlie  lasliioii ; 

And  frit'  liiin  o'er  tlie  flock  to  ffed, 
And  punish  each  transcrrcssion  ; 

Especial  rnvis  that  cross  the  breed, 
Gie  them  sufficient  threshin, 

Spare  them  nae  day. 

Now  aiild  KUmnrnoch  cock  thy  tail, 

And  toss  thy  horns  I'u'  scanty  ; 
Nae  mair  thou'lt  rowt  out-owre  the  dale, 

Because  thy  pasture's  scanty  ; 
For  lapfn's  larffe  o'  gnxpel  hail 

Shall  find  thy  crib  in  plenty, 
And  riintx  o'  grace,  the  pick  and  wale. 

No  gien  by  way  o'  dainty, 

But  ilka  day. 

Nae  mair  by  Babel's  streams  we  11  weep, 

To  think  upon  our  Zio7i : 
And  hing  our  fiddles  up  to  sleep. 

Like  baby-clouts  a-drying ; 
Come,  screw  the  pegs  wi'  tuneful  cheep. 

And  o'er  the  thairms  be  trying  ; 
Oh,  rare  !  to  see  our  elbucks  wheep, 

And  a'  like  lamb-tails  fiyin 

Fu'  fast  this  day  ; 

Lang  Patronac/e  wi'  rod  o'  aim, 

Has  shor'n  the  Kirk's  undoin, 
As  lately  Fenwick,  sair  forfairn, 

Has  proven  to  its  ruin  : 
Our  Patron,  honest  man  !  Glencairn, 

He  saw  mischief  was  brewin  ; 
And,  like  a  godly  elect  bairn 

He's  waled  us  out  a  true  ane. 

And  sound  this  day. 


BURiNS     rOKMS.  43 

Now,  lioldnxon,  liarangue  nae  inair, 

But  Steele  your  gab  tor  ever  ; 
Or  try  the  wicked  town  o'  Aj/r, 

For  tliere  they'll  think  you  clever  j 
Or,  nae  reflection  on  your  lear, 

You  may  commence  a  Shaver ; 
Or  to  the  Nethcrtnii  repair, 

An  turn  a  carpet  weaver 

Aff-hand  this  day. 

Mutrie  and  you  were  just  a  match. 

We  never  "had  sic  twa  drones  ; 
And  Hornie  did  the  Lal(j  Kirk  watch, 

Just  like  a  winkin  baudrons  ; 
And  aye  he  catch'd  the  tither  wretch, 

To  fry  them  in  his  caudrons  ; 
But  now  his  honour  maun  detach, 

Wi'  a'  his  brimstone  squadrons. 
Fast,  fast  this  day. 

See,  see  auld  Orthodox 's  faes. 

She's  swingein  through  the  city, 
Hark,  how  the  nine-tail'd  cat  she  plays  ! 

I  vow  its  unco  pretty  : 
There  Learning,  wi'  his  Greekish  face, 

Grunts  out  some  Latin  ditty  ; 
And  Common-Sense  is  gaun,  she  says 

To  mak  to  Jamie  Bcattic 

Her  'plaint  this  day. 

But  there's  Morality  himsel' 

Embracing  a'  opinions  ; 
Hear,  how  he  gies  the  tither  yell, 

Between  his  twa  companions ; 
See  how  she  peels  the  skin  and  fell, 

As  ane  were  peeling  onions ! 
Now  there— they're  packed  aff  to  hell 

And  banish 'd  our  dominions. 

Henceforth  this  day. 


41  BI  UNS'    POKMS. 

O  happy  day  !  rejoice,  rfjoice ! 

Come  bouse  ubout  tlie  porter! 
Morality's  (Knuire  <lecoys 

Shiill  here  iiac  inair  find  quarter: 
M-Kinlm/,  Hiisse/,  are  tlie  boys 

Tliat  lieresy  can  torture  : 
They'll  gie  her  on  a  rape  a  hoj'se, 

And  cow  her  measure  shorter 

By  til'  head  some  day. 

Come  bring  the  tither  mutchkin  in 

And  here's  for  a  conclusion, 
To  every  Neic  Li/jht*  mother's  son, 

From  this  time  Ibrth,  confusion  : 
If  mair  they  deave  us  wi'  their  din. 

Or  Patronage  intrusion. 
We'll  light  a  spunk,  and,  ev'ry  skin, 

We'll  rin  them  afFin  fusion 

Like  oil,  some  day. 


T  II  E    C  A  L  F. 

TO   THE   REV.   MR.  . 

On  his  Text,  Malachi,  chap.  iv.  ver.  2— "And  thny  shall 
go  forth,  and  grow  up  like  calves  of  the  stall." 

Right,  Sir !  your  text  I'll  prove  it  true, 

Though  heretics  may  laugh ; 
For  instance,  there's  yoursel  just  now, 

God  knows,  an  unco  Calf'! 


'  New  Lights  is  a  cant  plirasp  in  the  West  of  Scotlanrl,  for 
those  ri'lijrious  opinions  wiiich  Dr.  Taylor,  of  Norwich,  lias 
deftiided  so  strenuously. 


BUH>R      POKMS.  45 

And  slioukl  some  patron  be  so  kind 

As  bless  you  wi'  a  kirk, 
I  doubt  na,  Sir,  but  then  wo'll  find 

Ye're  still  as  great  a  Stlrk  .' 

But  if  the  Lover's  raptured  hour 

Shall  ever  be  j'our  lot, 
Forbid  it  every  heavenly  Power, 

You  e'er  should  be  a  'Stot! 

Tho'  when  some  kind,  connubial  dear, 

Your  but-and-ben  adorns, 
Tiie  like  has  been,  that  you  may  wear 

A  noble  head  o'  hums  '. 

And  in  your  lug,  most  reverend  James, 

To  hear  you  roar  and  rowt, 
Few  men  o'  sense  will  doubt  your  claims 

To  rank  among  the  Noicte! 

And  when  your  number'd  wi'  the  dead, 

Below  a  grassy  hillock, 
Wi'  justice  they  may  mark  your  head — 

"  Here  lies  a  famous  Bullock .'" 


ADDRESS  TO  THE  DEIL. 


O  Prince!  0  Chief  of  many  throned  pow'rs, 
Thut  led  Ihu  erubuttled  si-raphim  to  war. 

Miltaiu 


O  Thou,  whatever  title  suit  thee, 
Auld  Hornie,  Satan,  Nick,  or  Clootie, 
Wha  in  yon  cavern  grim  and  sootie, 
Clos'd  under  hatches. 


40  burns'   pokms. 

Spairges  about  the  brunstane  cootie, 

To  scaud  poor  wretclies  ; 

Hear  ine,  auld  Hdixjie,  for  a  wee, 
And  let  poor  diimned  bodies  be  ; 
I'm  sure  siua'  pleasure  it  can  gie. 

E'en  to  a  deil, 
To  skelp  and  scaud  poor  dogs  like  me, 

And  hear  us  squeel ! 

Great  is  tby  pow'r,  and  great  thy  fame. 
Far  kend  and  noted  is  thy  name  ; 
And  tho'  yon  lowan  hetigh's  thy  haiue. 

Thou  travels  far  ; 
And  faith,  tliou's  neither  lag  nor  lame, 

Nor  blaie  nor  scaur. 

Whyles,  rangin  like  a  roarin  lion, 
For  prey,  a'  holes  and  corners  tryin ; 
Whyles,  oh  the  strong-wins'd  tempest  flyin, 

Tirling  the  kirks  ; 
VVhyles,  in  the  human  bosom  pryin, 

Unseen  thou  lurks. 

I've  heard  my  rev'rend  Grannie  say, 
In  lanely  glens  ye  like  to  stray, 
Or  where  auld-ruiu'd  castles,  gray, 

Nod  to  the  moon, 
Ye  fright  the  nightly  wand'rer's  way 

Wi'  eldritch  croon. 

When  twilight  did  my  Grannie  summon 
To  say  her  pray'rs,  douce,  honest  woman, 
Aft  yont  the  dyke  she's  heard  you  bumniin, 

Wi'  eerie  drone  ! 
Or,  rustlin,  thro'  the  boortrees  comin, 

Wi'  heavy  groan ! 


burns'  poems.  47 

Ae  dreary,  windy,  winter  niglit, 

Tiie  stars  shot  down  \vi'  sklentiu  light, 

Wi'  you,  luysel,  I  gat  a  friglit, 

Ayoiit  tlie  loch  ; 
Ye,  like  a  rash-bush,  stood  in  sight ; 

Wi'  waving  sugh. 

The  cudgel  in  ray  nieve  did  shake, 

Each  bristled  hair  stood  like  a  stake. 

When  wi'  an  eldritch  stoor,  quaick— quaick— 

Anian<r  the  springs 
Away  ye  squatter 'd,  like  a  drake. 

On  whistling  wings. 

Let  warlocJiS  grim,  and  wither'd  hmjs^ 
Tell  how  wi'  you,  on  ragweed  nags, 
Tliey  skim  the  niuirs  and  dizzy  crags 

Wi'  wicked  speed. 
And  in  kirkyards  renew  tlieir  leagues, 

Owre  howkit  dead. 

Thence  countra  wives,  wi'  toil  and  pain, 
May  plunge  and  plunge  tlie  kirn  in  vain  ; 
For,  oh!  the  yellow  treasure's  taen 

By  witchin  skill  ; 
And  dawtit,  twal-pint  HawJde's  gaen 

As  yell's  the  Bill. 

Thence  mystic  knots  mak  great  abusr> 

On  young  gudenum,  fond,  keen,  and  crousej 

When  the  best  wark-looni  i'  the  house 

By  cantrip  wit. 
Is  instant  made  no  worth  a  louse. 

Just  at  the  bit. 

When  thowes  dissolve  the  snawy  hoord, 
And  float  the  jinglin  icy  boord, 


18  Ul'KNtj'    I'or.MS. 

VVlien  Water-hi'lpk'S  haunt  the  foord 
IJy  your  direction, 

And  'nigh ted  tniv'llers  are  allur'd 

To  their  destruction. 

And  aft  your  moss- traversing  SpunMcs 
Dt'coy  the  wiglit  that  late  and  drunk  is  j 
The  bleezhi,  curst,  mischievous  monkeys 

Delude  his  eyes, 
Till  in  some  miry  slough  he  sunk  is, 
Ne'er  mair  to  rise. 

When  Masofi's  mystic  word  and  g-rtp 
In  storms  and  tempests  raise  ye  up, 
Some  cock  or  cat  your  rage  maun  stop. 

Or,  strange  to  tell ! 
Tiie  youngest  Brither  ye  wad  vvhup 

\tf  str:iight  to  hell ! 

Lang  sjTie,  in  Eden's  bonny  yard, 
When  youthfu'  lovers  first  were  pair'J 
And  a'  the  soul  of  love  they  shar'd, 

The  raptiir'd  hour, 
Sweet  on  the  fragrant,  flow'ry  svvaird, 

In  shady  bow'r : 

Then  you,  ye  auld  sneck-drawin'  do^  ! 

Ye  cam  to  Paradise  incog., 

And  playd  on  man  a  cursed  brogue, 

(Black  be  your  fa'!) 
And  gied  the  infant  warld  a  shog, 

'Maist  ruin'd  a'. 

D'ye  mind  that  day,  when  in  a  bizz, 
Wi'  reekit  duds  and  reestit  gizz, 
Ye  did  present  your  smoutie  phiz 
'Mans:  better  folk. 


burns'  poems.  49 

And  sklented  on  the  man  of  Uz 
Your  spitefu'  joke  ? 

And  how  ye  gat  him  i'  your  thrall, 
And  brak  him  out  o'  house  and  hall 
While  scabs  and  blotches  did  him  gall, 

Wi'  bitter  claw, 
And  lows'd  his  ill-tongued  wicked  scawl, 

Was  warst  ava'. 

But  a'  your  doings  to  rehearse. 
Your  wily  snares  and  feclitin  fierce, 
Sin'  that  day  Michael*  did  you  pierce, 

Down  to  this  time, 
Wad  ding  a  Lallan  tongue,  or  Erse, 
In  prose  or  rhyme. 

/vnd  now,  auld  Cloots,  I  kenye're  think  in, 
A  certain  Bardie's  rantin,  drinkin, 
Some  luckless  hour  will  send  him  linkin 

To  your  black  pit ; 
But,  faith!  he'll  turn  a  corner,  jinkin, 

And  ciieat  you  yet. 

But,  fare  ye  weel,  auld  NicMe-hen  I 

O  wad  ye  tak  a  thought  and  men' ! 

Ye  ail)rins  miglit— I  dinna  ken- 
Still  liae  a  stake — 

I'm  wae  to  think  upo'  yon  den, 

Ev'n  for  your  sake  ! 

•  Vidf  Millon,  Book  VI. 


17 


60  Bl-KNS*    FOKMS 


THE  DEATH  AND  DYING  WORDS  OF 
POOR  MAILIE. 


THE    AUTIIOl.'S    ONLY    PET    YOWE. 

An  iiiuo  inournfxL'  Tide. 

As  Mailie  and  her  lambs,  thegither, 
Were  ae  day  nibbling  on  the  tether 
Upon  the  cloot  she  coost  a  hitch, 
And  owre  she  warsled  in  the  ditch 
There,  trroamng,  dying,  she  did  lie, 
When  Hughoc*  he  carae  doytin  by 

Wi'  plowrin  een,  and  lifted  han's, 
Poor  Hughoc  like  a  statue  Stan's  ; 
He  saw  her  days  were  near-hand  endit, 
By,  waes  my  heart !  he  cou'dna  mend  it  ? 
He  gaped  wide,  but  naething  spak  ! 
At  length  poor  Mailie  silence  brak: 

*'  O  thou,  whase  lamentable  face 
Appears  to  mourn  ray  woefu'  case ! 
My  dying  icorcLs  attentive  hear. 
And  bear  them  to  my  master  dear  : 

"  Tell  him,  if  e'er  again  he  keep 
As  muckle  gear  as  buy  a  sheep, 
O  !  bid  him  never  tie  them  mair 
Wi'  wicked  strings  o'  hemp  or  hai. 
But  ca'  them  out  to  park  or  hill, 
And  let  them  wander  at  their  will ; 
So  may  his  flock  increase,  and  grow 
To  scores  o'  lambs  and  packs  o'  woo. 


•  A  neighbour  lierrl-callan. 


BUJINS'    POKMS.  61 

"  Tell  liini,  lie  w;is  a  Master  kin  , 
And  iiye  was  <j:ii(le  to  me  and  mine  ; 
And  now  my  dyint;  charge  I  gie  him, 
My  helpK'ss  hiuibs  I  trust  tliem  wi'  him, 

"  O,  bid  liim  save  their  harmless  lives, 
Frae  dogs,  and  tods,  and  butcher's  knives ! 
But  gie  them  gude  cow-milk  their  fill, 
Till  they  be  tit  to  fend  themsel : 
And  tent  them  duly,  e'en  and  mom, 
Wi'  teats  o'  hay  and  rips  o'  corn. 

"  And  may  they  never  learn  the  gaets 
Of  ither  vile  wanrestlu'jwc^i'  / 
To  slink  thro'  slaps,  and  reave  and  steal 
At  stacks  o'  pease,  or  stocks  o'  kail. 
So  may  they,  like  their  great  forbears, 
For  moriy  a  year  come  thro'  the  sheers 
So  wives  wiil  gie  them  bits  o'  bread, 
And  bairns  greet  for  them  when  they're  dead. 

"  My  poor  toop-lamh,  my  son  and  heir, 
O,  bid  him  breed  him  up  wi'  care  ! 
And  if  he  live  to  be  a  buast, 
To  pit  some  bavins  in  his  breast ; 
And  warn  him,  what  I  winna  name, 
To  stay  content  wi'  yows  at  hame; 
And  no  to  rin  and  wear  his  cloots, 
Like  ither  nienseless,  graceless  brutes. 

»*  And  neist  my  yoicie,  silly  thing, 
Gude  keep  thee  iVae  a  tether  string  ! 
O,  may  thou  ne'er  forgather  up 
Wi'  ony  blastit,  moorland  toop  ! 
But  aye  keep  mind  to  moop  and  mell 
Wi'  sheep  o'  credit  like  thysel. 

"  And  now,  my  bairns,  wi'  my  last  breath, 
I  leave  my  blessin  wi'  you  baith  ; 
And  when  you  think  upon  your  luither, 
Mind  to  be  kind  to  ane  atiitln^r, 


2  lIUKNiJ      I'OKMS. 

"  Now,  lioiiest  IltdjJioc,  dirma  fail 
To  tell  my  luiistera'  my  tale  ; 
Ami  bid  liiiu  burn  tliis  cursed  tether  ; 
And  for  thy  pains  tiiou's  get  my  blether," 

This  said,  poor  Mailie  tum'd  her  head, 
And  clos'd  her  een  amang  the  dead  ! 


POOR  MAILIE'S  ELEGY- 

Lament  in  rhyme,  lament  in  prose, 
Wi'  saut  tears  trickling  down  your  nose ; 
Our  bardie's  late  is  at  a  close, 

Past  a'  remead ; 
The  last  sad  cape-stane  of  his  woes  ; 

Poor  Mailie' s  dead  ! 

It's  no  the  loss  o'  warld's  gear, 
That  could  sae  bitter  draw  the  tear, 
Or  mak  our  bardie,  dowie,  wear 

The  mourning  weed  ; 
He's  lost  a  friend  and  neebor  dear, 

In  Mailie  dead. 

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

She  ran  wi'  speed  ; 
A  friend  mair  faithfu'  ne'er  cam  nigh  him, 

Than  Mailie  dead. 

I  wat  she  was  a  sheep  o'  sense, 
And  could  behave  herself  wi'  mense  ; 
I'll  say't,  she  ne\er  brak  a  fence 

Thro'  thievish  greed. 
Our  bardie,  lanely,  keeps  the  spence 

Sin'  Mailie^s  dead. 


H!KNS      POKMS. 

Or,  if  lie  wanders  up  the  howe, 
Her  Iivin<,'  iinaLre,  in  her  i/oice. 
Comes  bleating  to  liini,  owre  the  knowe, 

For  l)its  o'  bread  ; 
And  down  the  briny  pearls  rowe 

For  Mailic  dead. 

She  was  nae  pet  o'  muirland  tips, 

Wi'  tawted  ker,  and  hairy  hips  ; 

For  her  forbears  were  brought  in  sliips 

Frae  yont  the  Traced !  - 
A  bonnier  j(?tr5/i  ne'er  cross'd  the  clips 

Than  Mailie  dead. 

Wae  worth  tlie  man  who  first  did  shape 
That  vile  wanchancie  thing— «  rape! 
It  maks  gude  fellows  girn  and  gape 

Wi'  chokin  dread  ; 
An'  Robin's  bonnet  wave  wi'  crape, 

For  Mailie  dead. 

O,  a'  ye  bards  on  bonny  Doon ! 
And  wha  on  Ayr  your  chanters  tune! 
Come,  join  the  inelancholious  croon 

O'  Robin'-s  reed! 
His  lieart  will  never  cret  aboon 

His  Mailie  dead ! 


64  burns'  pokms. 

TO  JAMES  SMITH, 

MAUCHI.INB, 


Friendship!  mysterioiis  ccnipnt  of  the  son)  I 

Sweet'ner  of  lifi-,  and  solder  of  society  I 

I  owe  thee  mucli.  Blair. 


Dear  Smith,  the  sleest,  pawkie  thief, 
That  ere  attempted  stealth  or  rief, 
You  surely  hae  some  warlock-breef 

Owre  human  hearts ; 
For  ne'er  a  bosom  yet  was  prief 

Against  your  arts. 

For  rae,  I  swear  by  sun  and  moon, 
And  every  star  that  blinks  aboon, 
Ye've  cost  me  twenty  pair  o'  shoon. 

Just  gaun  to  see  you, 
And  every  ither  pair  that's  done, 

Mair  ta'en  I'm  wi'  you. 

That  auld  capricious  carlin,  Nature, 
To  mak  amends  for  scrinipit  stature, 
She's  turn'd  you  aff,  a  human  creature 

On  her  first  plan, 
And  in  her  freaks,  on  ev'ry  feature, 

She's  wrote — the  Man. 

Just  now  I've  ta'en  the  fit  of  rhyme, 
My  barmie  noddle's  working  priuje, 
My  fancy  yerkit  up  sublime 

Wi'  hasty  summon : 
Hae  ye  a  leisure-moment's  time 

To  hear  what's  comin? 


BURNS      POKMS.  5d 

Some  rhyme  a  neebor's  name  to  lash  ; 

Some  rliyme  (vain  thought !)  for  needfii'  cash  ; 

Some  rhyme  to  court  the  countru  clash, 

And  raise  a  din  ; 
For  me,  an  aim  I  never  fash— 

I  rhyme  tor  fun. 

The  star  that  rules  my  luckless  lot. 

Has  fated  me  the  russet  coat, 

And  damn'd  my  fortune  to  the  groat  ; 

But,  in  requit. 
Has  blest  me  wi'  a  random  shot 

O'  countra  wit. 

This  while  my  notion's  taen  a  sklent, 
To  try  my  fate  in  gude  black  prent ; 
But  still  the  more  I'm  that  way  bent, 

Something  cries,  "  Hoolie ! 
I  red  you,  honest  man,  tak  tent ! 

Ye'U  shaw  your  folly. 

"  There's  ither  poets,  much  your  betters. 
Far  seen  in  Greek,  deep  men  o'  letters, 
Hae  thought  they  had  ensur'd  their  debtors 

A'  future  ages  ; 
Now  moths  deform,  in  shapeless  tatters, 

Their  unknown  pages." 

Then  fareweel  hopes  o'  laurel-boughs. 
To  garland  my  poetic  brows  ! 
Henceforth  I'll  rove  where  busy  ploughs 

Are  whistling  thrans, 
And  teach  the  lonely  heights  and  liowes 

My  rustic  sang. 

I'll  wander  on,  wi'  teiitless  heed 
How  iiever-haltiiig  moments  spoed, 


56  DLIKNS      PUEMS. 

Till  Fate  shall  snap  the  brittle  thread : 
Then,  all  unknown, 

I'll  lay  nie  with  th'  in^loriou3  dead, 
Forgot  and  gone ! 

But  why  o'  Death  be^rin  a  tale  ? 

Just  now  we're  living,'  sound  and  Imie  ; 

Then  top  and  maintop  crowd  the  sail, 

Heave  Care  o'er  side  ? 
And  large,  before  Enjoyraent's  gale, 

Let's  tak  the  tide. 

This  life,  sae  far's  I  understand, 

Is  a'  enchanted  fairy-land, 

Where  pleasure  is  the  magic  wand, 

Tiiat,  wielded  right, 
Make  hours  like  minutes,  hand  in  hand, 

Dance  by  fu'  light. 

The  magic  wand  then  let  us  wield  : 
For,  ance  that  five-and-forty's  speel'd, 
See  crazy,  weary,  joyless  eild, 

Wi'  wrinkled  face, 
Comes  hoastin,  hirplin  owre  the  field, 

Wi'  creepin  pace. 

When  ance  lifers  day  draws  near  the  gloamin, 
Then  fareweel  vacant  careless  roamin  ; 
And  fareweel  cheerful  tankards  foamin. 

And  social  noise ; 
And  fareweel  dear  deluding  icoman, 

The  joy  o' joys  ! 

O  Life!  how  pleasant  in  thy  morning, 
Young  Fancy's  rays  the  hills  adorning ! 
Cold-pausing  Caution's  lesson  scorning, 
We  frisk  away. 


BL'IINS'    VOKMS.  57 

Like  school-boys  at  th'  expected  warniiiij, 
To  joy  and  play. 

We  wander  there,  we  wander  here. 
We  eye  the  rose  upon  the  brier, 
Unmindful  that  the  thorn  is  near 

Amant,^  the  leaves; 
And  the'  the  puny  wound  appear, 

Short  whiie  it  grieves. 

Some,  lucky,  find  a  flow'ry  spat, 
For  which  they  never  toil'd  nor  swat ; 
They  drink  the  sweet,  and  eat  the  fat, 

But  care  or  pain  ; 
And,  haply,  eye  the  barren  hut 

Wi'  high  disdain. 

\Vi'  steady  aim,  some  Fortune  chase  ; 
Keen  Hope  does  every  sinew  brace ; 
Thro'  fair,  thro'  foul,  they  urge  the  race, 

And  seize  the  prey  : 
Then  cannie,  in  some  cozie  place. 

They  close  the  day. 

And  ithers,  like  your  humble  servan'. 
Per  wights  !  nae  rules  nor  roads  observin  ; 
To  right  or  left,  eternal  swervin. 

They  zigzag  on  ; 
Till  curst  wi'  age,  obscure  and  starvin. 

They  aften  groan. 

Alas  !  what  hitter  toil  and  strainin  I — 
But  truce  wi'  peevish,  poor  complainin  ; 
Is  Fortune's  fickle  Luiui  wanin  ? 

E'en  let  her  gang! 
Beneath  what  light  she  has  remainiu 

Let's  sing  our  sang. 


1  mU>S      lOKMS. 

My  ppH  I  here  flinj?  to  the  door, 

And  kneel,  "  Ye  powers  !  and  warm  unplor«, 

Though  I  should  wander  terra  o'er 

In  all  her  dimes, 
Grant  me  but  this,  I  ask  no  more, 

Aye  rowth  o'  rhymes. 

"  Gie  dreepin?  roasts  to  countra  lairds, 
Till  icicles  hinji  frae  their  beards  ; 
Gie  fine  braw  claes  to  fine  lite-guards. 

And  ninids  of  honour  : 
And  yill  and  wlii-ky  <(ie  to  cairdx 

Until  tiiey  sconner. 

"  A  title,  Dempster  merits  it ; 

^L  garter  pie  to  Willie  Pitt ; 

Gie  wealth  to  some  be-ledger'd  cit. 

In  cent,  per  cent. 
But  gie  me  real,  sterling  wit, 

And  I'm  content- 

"  While  ye  are  pleas'd  to  keep  me  liale, 
I'll  sit  down  owre  my  scanty  meal, 
Be't  water-brose  or  lu.uslin-kail, 

W"i'  ciieerfu'  face, 
As  lang's  the  Muses  diima  fail 

To  say  the  grace." 

An  anxious  ee  I  never  throws 

liehint  my  lue,  or  by  my  nose  ;  • 

I  jouk  beneath  Misfortune's  blows 

As  weel's  I  may  : 
Sworn  foe  to  sorrow,  care,  and  prose, 

I  rhyme  away. 

O  ye  donee  folk,  that  live  by  rule, 
Grave,  tideless -blooded,  calm  and  cool, 


BUllNS'   POK.MS.  /iJI 

Conipar'd  wi'  you  — O  fool!  fool!  foul! 

I  low  much  unlike  ! 
Your  hearts  are  just  a  standing  pool, 

Your  lives  a  dyke  ! 

Nae  harebrain'd  sentimontal  traces 
In  your  unletter'd  nameless  faces  ' 
In  arioso  trills  and  graces, 

Ye  never  stray, 
But,  gi'avissimo,  solemn  basses, 

Ye  hum  away. 

Ye  are  sae  grave,  nae  doubt  ye're  icite, 

Nae  ferly  tho'  ye  do  despise 

The  hairum-scairum,  ram-stara  boys, 

The  rattling  squad  ; 
I  see  you  upward  cast  your  eyes — 

Ye  ken  the  road. — 

Whilst  I — but  I  shall  Imud  me  therf  — 
Wi'  you  I'll  scarce  gang  ony  where — 
Then,  Jamie,  I  shall  say  nae  mair, 

But  quat  my  sang. 
Content,  with  yoii  to  mak  a  pair, 

Whare'er  I  gang. 


()()  nT•H^^     rOEHS. 

A    DREAM. 


Thoiitjlits,  words,  ami  deods,  the  stat'ite  blanius  wiili  reason 
But  hurcly  Dn-Hins  were  ne'er  indited  traason. 


[On  reading  in  thp  publio  papers,  the  LAUREATE'S  OUE, 
with  the  other  PARADE  of  June  4,  1786.  the  Author  was 
no  sooner  dropt  asleep,  than  he  imagined  himself  trans- 
ported to  the  Birth-day  Levee;  and  in  his  dreaming  fancy, 
made  the  following  Address.] 

GuDE-MORNiNG  to  voiir  3IaJestt/, 

May  Ileav'n  autinient  your  blisses, 
On  ev'ry  new  hirth-dny  ye  see, 

A  humhle  poet  wishes  ! 
My  baidsliip  here,  at  your  levee, 

On  sic  a  day  as  this  is. 
Is  sure  an  uncouth  sight  to  se^, 

Ainang  the  birth-day  dresses 
Sae  fine  this  day. 

I  see  ye're  complimented  thrang, 

By  raony  a  lord  and  lady  ! 
'God  save  the  King  !'  's  a  cuckoo  sang 

That's  unco  easy  said  aye  ; 
The  poets,  too,  a  venal  gang, 

Wi'  rhymes  weel  turn'd  and  ready, 
Wrid  gar  you  trow  ye  ne'er  do  wrang, 

But  aye  unerring'steady. 
On  sic  a  day. 

For  me  !  before  a  monarch's  face, 

Ev'n  there  I  winna  flatter  ; 
For  neither  pension,  post,  nor  place, 

Aia  I  )our  humble  debtor; 


BUIlNri'    I'OKMS  01 

Sae,  nae  reflection  on  your  grace, 

Your  kingship  to  bespatter; 
Tlu'i-e's  mony  waur  been  o'  the  race, 

And  aiblius  ane  been  better 

Than  you  this  day. 

'Tis  very  true  my  sov'rei^n  kinsr, 
My  skill  may  weel  be  doubted  ; 
But  facts  are  chiels  that  winna  ding. 

And  downa  be  disputed  ; 
-  Your  royal  nest,  beneatli  your  wing, 

Is  e'en  right  left  and  clouted, 
And  now  the  third  part  o'  the  string, 
And  less,  will  uang  about  it 
Thau  did  ae  day 

Far  be't  frae  me  tliat  I  aspire, 

To  blame  your  legislation, 
Or  say,  ye  wisdom  want,  or  lire. 

To  rule  this  mi-^hty  nation  ! 
But  faith  !  I  muckle  doubt,  my  Sire, 

Y'e've  trusted  'ministration 
To  chaps,  wha'  in  a  barn  or  byre, 

Wad  better  till  their  station 

Than  courts  yon  day. 

And  now  ye've  given  auld  Britain  peace, 

Her  broken  shins  to  plaster  ; 
Your  sair  taxation  does  her  fleece, 

Till  she  has  scarce  a  tester ; 
For  me,  thank  God !  my  life's  a  lease, 

Nae  bargain  wearing  faster, 
Or,  faith !  I  fear  that,  wi'  the  geese, 

I  shortly  boost  to  pasture 

r  the  craft  some  day. 

I'm  no  mistrusting  Willlie  Pitt, 
When  taxes  he  enlarges, 


02  BURNS      I'OKMS. 

(And  Will's  a  true  gude  fallow's  get, 

A  name  not  envy  spairzes), 
Tliiit  he  intends  to*  pay  your  debt. 

And  lessen  a'  your  cliarjes  ; 
But,  G-d  sake  !  "l»^t  na?  saving  fit 

Abridge  your  bonny  barires 

And  boats  this  day. 

Adieu,  ray  Liege  t  may  freedom  geek 

Beneath  your  hish  protection  : 
And  may  ye  rax  Corruption's  neck, 

And  gie  her  for  dissection. 
But  since  I'm  here,  I'll  no  neglect, 

Ii\  loyal,  true  affection. 
To  pay'your  Queen,  with  due  respect, 

My  fealty  and  subjection 

This  great  birth-day. 

Hail,  Majesty  Most  Excellent ! 

Wiiile  noble.s  strive  to  please  ye, 
Will  ye  accept  a  compliment 

A  simple  poet  gies  ye  ? 
Time  bonny  bairntime,  Heav'n  has  lent, 

Still  higher  may  they  heeze  ye? 
Ill  bliss,  till  Fate  some  day  is  sent, 

For  ever  to  release  ye 

Frae  care  that  day. 

For  you,  young  potentate  of  Wales, 

I  tell  your  Highness  fairly, 
Down  Pleasure's  stream,  wi'  swelling  sails, 

Fm  tauld  ye're  driving  rarely  ; 
But  some  day  ye  may  gnaw  your  nails. 

And  curse  your  folly  sairly. 
That  e'er  ye  brak  Diana's  pales, 

Or  rattled  di.'e  wi'  Charlie, 
By  night  or  day. 


KL'UNS"    )'OEMS.  C3 

Yt't  aft  a  ra'pT^'eil  cowte'i  been  known 

To  niak  a  noble  aiver ; 
Sue  ye  may  doncfly  lill  a  throne, 

For  a'  their  clishmaclaver  : 
Tliere,  him*  at  Agincourt  wha  slione, 

Few  better  were  or  braver  ; 
And  yet,  \vi'  funny,  queer  SirJohn,'i 

He  was  an  unco  shaver 

For  inony  a  day. 

For  you,  right  reverend  Osnaburg, 

Nane  sets  tlie  lawn-sleeves  sweeter 
Although  a  ribband  at  your  lug 

Wad  been  adre^s  completer! 
As  ye  disown  yon  paughty  dog 

That  bears  the  keys  of  Peter, 
Then,  switli !  and  get  a  wife  to  hug, 

Or,  troth !  ye'll  stain  the  mitre 
Some  luckless  day. 

Young,  royal  Tarry  Breeks,  I  learn, 

Ye've  lately  come  athwart  her ; 
A  glorious  galley, X  stem  and  stern, 

Weel  rigg'd  tor  Venus'  barter; 
But  first  hang  out,  tliat  she'll  discern 

Your  hymeneal  ci;arter, 
Tlien  heave  aboard  your  grapple-airn. 

And,  large  upo'  her  quarter. 

Come  full  that  day. 

Ye,  lastly,  bonny  blossoms  a', 
Qe  royal  lasses  dainty, 

•Kinsr  Homy  V. 
+  Sir  John  Falstaff.     See  Sliakspeare's  Henry  IV. 
1  Vlludin!;  to  the   newsimjier-account  of  a  certain  Royal 
Sailor's  amour. 


C4  IIUUNS'    rOE.MS. 

Ilrnv'n  niuk  you  Rude  as  weel  as  braw, 
And  ii'ie  you  lads  a-plenty  ! 

Jiiit  Miwr  iia  British  Jioys  awa 
For  kiii|j[s  are  unco  scant  aye  : 

And  German  gentles  are  but  sma' 
They're  better  just  than  icant  aye, 
On  ony  day. 

God  bless  you  a' !  consider  now 

Ye're  unco  muckle  dautit ; 
IJut  ere  the  course  of  life  be  through, 

It  may  be  bitter  sau tit; 
And  I  hae  seen  their  coggie  fou, 

That  yet  hae  tarrow't  at  it ; 
But  or  the  day  w  as  done,  I  trow, 

The  laggan  they  hae  clautit 
Fu'  clean  that  dav. 


THE    VISION. 


DUAN    FIRST.* 

The  sun  had  clos'd  the  winter  day, 
TIjc  curlers  quat  their  roaring  play, 
And  hunger'd  niaukin  ta'en  her  way 

To  kail-yards  green, 
^^'hile  faithless  snaws  ilk  step  betray 

Whare  she  has  been. 

The  thresher's  we&ry  flingin-tree 
The  lee-Iang  day  had  tired  me  ; 


•  Duan,  a  term  of  Ossian's  for  the  different  divisions  of  a 
digressive  poem.  See  iiisCath-Loda,  vol.  ii.of  M'Pherson' 
translation. 


burns'  poems.  60 

And  whan  the  day  had  clos'd  his  oe, 

Far  i'  the  west, 
Ben  i'  the  spence,  right  peusivelie, 

I  gaed  to  rest. 

There,  lanely,  by  the  inwle  cheek 

I  sat,  and  ee'd  the  spewin  reek, 

That  fiU'd,  wi'  lioast-provokinn  sineek, 

Tlie  auld  chiy  bi^^gin  ; 
And  heard  the  n'stless  rattons  squeak 

About  the  riggin. 

A'  in  this  niotty,  misty  cliuie, 

1  backward  uius'd  on  wasted  time, 

How  I  liad  spent  iny  youthfu'  prime, 

And  done  nae  thing, 
But  stringing  blethers  up  in  rhyme, 

For  fools  to  sing. 

Had  I  to  gude  advice  but  iiarkit, 
I  might,  by  this,  liae  led  a  market, 
.Or  struttit  in  a  bank,  and  clarkit 

My  cash-account ; 
Wliile  here,  half-mad,  half-fed,  half-sarkit, 

Is  a'  ih'  amount. 

I  started,  mutt'ring,  Blockijead  !  coof ! 
And  heav'd  on  high  my  waukit  loof, 
To  swear  by  a'  yon  starry  roof, 

Or  some  rash  aiih. 
That  I,  henceforth,  wad  be  rhyme-proof 

Till  my  last  breath— 

When,  click  !  the  string  the  sneck  did  draw  j 
And  jee!  the  door  gaed  to  the  wa', 
And  by  my  ingle-lowe  I  saw, 

New  bleezing  bright, 
17  J.- 


6  BURNS      POEBI8. 

A  tight,  outlandish  hhzie,  braw, 
Come  full  in  sight. 

Ye  needna  doubt,  I  held  my  whisht ; 
The  infant  aith,  half-form'd,  was  crusht : 
I  glow'rd  as  eerie's  I'd  been  dusht 

In  some  wild  8:len  ; 
When  sweet,  like  modest  worth,  she  blusht, 

And  stepped  ben. 

Green,  slender,  leaf-clad  hoUy-hovghx 
Were  twisted,  gracefu',  round  her  brows  ; 
I  took  her  for  some  Scottish  Muse, 

By  that  same  token  ; 
And  come  to  stop  those  reckless  vows 

Wad  soon  been  broken. 

A  '  harebrain'd,  sentimental  trace' 
Was  strongly  marked  in  her  face  ; 
A  wildly-witty,  rustic  grace 

Shone  full  upon  her  ; 
Her  eye,  ev'n  turn'd  on  empty  space, 

Beara'd  keen  wi'  honour. 

Down  flow'd  her  robe,  a  tartan  sheen, 
Till  half  a  leg  was  scrimply  seen  ; 
And  sic  a  leg  !  my  bonny  Jean 

Could  only  peer  it ; 
Sae  straught,  sae  taper,  tight,  and  clean, 

Niiue  else  cam  near  it. 

Her  mantle  large,  o'  greenish  hue, 

My  gazing  wonder  cliiefly  drew  ; 

Deep  lights  and  shades,  bold-mingling,  threw 

A  lustre  grand, 
.Vnd  seem'd,  to  ray  astonish'd  view, 

A  vell-liHOici)  land. 


burns'  pokms.  07 

Ui'Vti,  rivers  in  the  sea  were  lost, 
Tliere,  iuouiit;iins  to  the  skies  were  tost ; 
Here,  tumbling  billows  marked  the  coast, 

Wi'  surgiii?  foam  ; 
There,  distant  shone  Art's  lofty  boast. 

The  lordly  dome. 

Here  Doon  pour'd  down  his  far-fctch'd  flood^^ 
There,  well-fud  Irwlne  stately  thuds: 
Auld  hermit  Atjr  siaw  through  his  woods. 

On  to  the  shore ; 
And  raony  a  lesser  torrent  scuds, 

Wi'  seemin  roar. 

Low,  in  a  sandy  valley  spread, 

An  ancient  borough  rear'd  her  head  ; 

Still,  as  in  Scottish  story  read, 

She  boasts  a  race. 
To  ev'ry  nobler  virtue  bred, 

And  polish'd  grace. 

By  stately  tow'r  or  palace  fair, 

Or  ruins  pendent  in  the  air. 

Bold  stems  of  heroes,  here  and  there, 

I  could  discern; 
Some  seem'd  to  muse,  some  seera'd  to  dare, 

Wi'  feature  stern. 

My  heart  did  glowing  transport  feel. 

To  see  a  race*  heroic  wheel. 

And  brandish  round  the  deep-dyed  steel 

In  sturdy  blows : 
While  back  recoiling  seem'd  to  reel 

Their  soutliron  foes. 


08  BUU.NS'    POKMS. 

His  Countuy's  Saviour,*  mark  liiin  well ; 
Bold  liichardton's\  lieroic  swell  ; 
The  cliietou  Sark,t  who  {glorious  fell, 

In  liiul)  coininaml  ; 
Aud  //(',  whom  riitliless  fates  expel 

His  native  land. 

There,  where  a  scepter'd  Picfislik  shade 
Stalk'd  round  his  ashes  lowly  laid, 
I  inark'd  a  martial  race,  pourtray'd 

In  colonrs  strong  ; 
Bold,  soldier-featur'd,  undismay'd, 

They  strode  along. 

Through  many  a  wild  romantic  grove,|| 
Near  many  a  hermit-fancy'd  cove, 
(Fit  haunts  for  friendship  or  for  love), 

In  musing  mood, 
An  agedjmhje,  I  saw  him  rove. 

Dispensing  good. 

With  deep-struck  reverential  aweH 
The  learned  sire  and  son  I  saw. 


•  William  Wallace. 

t  Adam  Wallace  of  Ricliardton,  cousin  to  the  immortal 
preserver  of  Scottish  independence. 

X  Wallace,  Laird  of  Craigie,  who  was  second  in  command 
under  Douglas,  Earl  of  Orrnond,  at  the  famous  battle  on  the 
banks  of  Sark,  fought  tmno  1448.  That  glorious  victory  was 
principally  owing  to  the  judicious  conduct  and  intrepid  valour 
of  the  gallant  Laird  of  Craigie,  who  died  of  his  wounds  after 
the  action. 

5  Coilus,  Kingof  thePicts,  from  whom  tlie  district  of  Kyle 
is  said  to  take  its  name,  lies  buried,  as  tradition  says,  near  the  ■ 
family  seat  of  the  Montgomuries  of  Coilsfield,  where  hi»' 
burial-place  is  still  shewn. 

II  Barskimming,  the  seat  of  tlie  lute  Lord  Justice  Clerk. 

*"  Catrine,  the  seat  of  the  late  Doctor,  and  present  Professor 
Stewart. 


BURNS     POEMS.  00 

To  Nature's  God  and  Nature's  law 

They  save  their  h)ie  : 
Tliis,  all  its  source  and  end  to  draw, 

That,  to  adore. 

Brydojie's  brave  ward*  I  well  could  spy, 
Beneath  ohl  ScotUi's  sinilinLj  eye  ; 
Who  call'd  on  Fame,  low  standing  by, 

To  liand  liini  on, 
Where  many  a  p:itriot-nanie  on  high, 

And  liero  shone. 


DUAN   SECOND 

With  musing  deep,  astonish'd  stare, 
I  view'd  the  heavenly-seemlng^air  ; 
A  whisp'ring  throb  did  witness  bear 

Of  kindred  sweet. 
When  with  an  elder  sister's  air 

Slie  did  me  greet. 

"  All  hail !  my  own  inspired  Bard, 
In  me  thy  native  Muse  regard  ! 
Nor  longer  mourn  tliy  fate  as  hard, 

Tims  Dooriy  iow! 
I  come  to  give  thee  such  reward 

As  we  bestow. 

"  Know,  the  great  genius  of  this  land 
Has  many  a  litilit,  aerial  band, 
Who,  all  beneath  Iiis  high  command, 

llarnioniously, 
As  arts  and  arms  they  understand, 

Tlieirlabours  ply. 


CdIoiicI  Fiillarton. 


70  UIIK.NS'    I'OKMS. 

"  They  Scotia's  race  anionff  tlieiii  dliare, 
Some  fire  tlie  soldit-r  on  to  dare; 
Some  rouse  the  patriot  up  to  bare 

Corruption's  lieart ; 
Some  teach  the  bard,  a  darlin-i:  care, 

The  tuneful  art. 

"  'Morif?  swellinqr  floods  of  reeking  gore, 
They,  ardent,  kindlin;^  spirits  pour; 
Or,  'mid  the  venal  senate's  roar, 

They,  sightless,  stand, 
To  mend  the  honf^st  patriot-lore, 

And  grace  the  hand. 

"  And  when  the  bard,  or  hoary  sage, 
(^harm  or  instruct  the  future  age, 
They  bind  tiie  wild  poetic  rage 

III  energy, 
Or  point  the  inconclusive  page 

Full  on  the  eye. 

"  Hence  Fidlartun,  the  brave  and  young  ; 
Hence  Dempster's  zeal-inspiring  tongue  ; 
Hence  sweet  harmonious  Beattie  sung 

His  '  Ministrel  lays  ;' 
Or  tore,  with  nobler  ardour  stung, 

The  sceptic's  bays. 

"  To  lower  orders  are  assign'd 
The  humbler  ranks  of  human-kind. 
The  rustic  Bard,  the  lab'ring  Hina, 

The  Artisan  ; 
All  chuse,  as  various  they're  inclin'd 

The  various  man. 

"  When  yellow  waves  the  heavy  crain. 
The  threat'ning  storm  some  strongly  rein  ; 


burns'  roEMS.  71 

Some  teach  to  meliorate  tlie  plain 

With  tillage-skill ; 
And  some  instruct  the  shepherd-train, 

Blythe  o'er  the  hill. 

**  Some  hint  the  lover's  harmless  wile ; 
Some  grace  the  maiden's  artless  sinile  ; 
Some  sooth  the  lab'rer's  weary  toil 

For  humble  gains, 
And  make  his  cottage-scenes  beguile 

His  cares  and  pains. 

"  Some,  bounded  to  a  district-space, 
Explore  at  large  man's  infant  race, 
To  mark  the  embryotic  trace 

Of  rustic  Bard! 
And  careful  note  each  op'ning  grace, 

A  guide  and  guard. 

"  Of  these  ayyi  I—Coila  ray  name  ; 

And  this  district  as  mine  I  claim, 

Where  once  the  CampbcUs,  chiefs  of  fame, 

Held  ruling  pow'r  ; 
I  mark'd  thy  embryo  tuneful  flame, 

Thy  natal  hour. 

"  With  future  hope,  I  oft  would  gaze, 
Fond,  on  thy  little  early  ways, 
Thy  rudely  caroH'd  chiming  piirasc, 

In  uncoutli  rhymes, 
Fir'd  at  the  simple  artless  lays 

Of  other  times. 

"  I  saw  thee  seek  the  sounding  shore. 
Delighted  with  the  dashing  roar  ; 
Or  when  the  north  his  fleecy  store 

Drove  through  the  sky, 


72  BnaNs'   fokms, 

I  saw  grim  Nature's  vis:i<^e  lioar 

Struck  tliy  young  eye. 

"  Or  when  the  deep  frreen- man  tied  earth 
Warm  cheris'd  every  flovv'ret's  birth, 
And  joy  and  music  pouring  forth 

In  ev'ry  grove, 
I  saw  thee  eye  tiie  <ren'ral  mirlh 

With  boundless  love. 

"  When  ripen'd  fields,  and  azure  skies, 
Call'd  forth  the  n  aptrs'  rustling  ^loi^(•, 
I  saw  thee  leave  their  evening  joys, 

And  lonely  stalk, 
To  vent  thy  bosom's  swelling  rise 

In  pensive  walk. 

"When  youthful  Love,  warm-blushing,  strong, 
Keen-shivering  shot  thy  nerves  alonr, 
Those  accents,  grateful  to  thy  tong'.e, 

Th'  adored  Name, 
I  taught  thee  how  to  pour  in  son<r. 

To  soothe  thy  flame. 

"  I  saw  thy  pulse's  maddening  play, 
Wild  send  thee  pleasure's  devious  way. 
Misled  by  fancy's  meteor  ray. 

By  passion  driven ! 
But  yet  the  light  that  led  astray 

Was  light  from  heaven. 

•'  I  taught  thy  manners- painting  strains, 
The  loves,  the  ways  of  simple  swains. 
Till  now,  owre  all  my  wide  domains, 

Tliy  fame  extends  ; 
And  some,  the  pride  of  Collars  plains. 

Become  tliy  friends. 


nrii.Ns'   I'OHMs,  73 

"Tiimi  canst  not  loam,  nor  can  I  sliow, 
To  jmhit  with  ThonisotVs  landscajje-glow, 
Or  wake  the  bosom -meltini?  throo 

\\"\\\\  Shenst one's  art  ; 
Or  pour,  with  Gniif,  the  movintr  flow 

Warm  on  the  heart. 


"  Yi't  all  beneath  th'  nnrivall'd  rose, 
The  lowly  daisy  sweetly  blows  ; 
Thougii  large  tlie  forest  monarch  throws 

His  army  shade, 
Yet  green  the  juicy  liawthorn  (.'rows, 

Adown  the  glade. 

"  Then  never  murmur  nor  repine  ; 
Strive  in  thy  huml)le  sphere  to  shine  ; 
And  trust  me,  not  Potod's  mine, 

Nor  kinji's  regard, 
Can  give  a  bliss  u'ermatching  thine, 

A  rustic  Bard. 

"To  give  my  counsels  all  in  one. 
Thy  tuneful  flame  still  careful  fan  ; 
Preserve  the  dignity  of  Man 

\Vith  soul  erect ! 
And  trust,  the  l/nirersal  Plan 

Will  all  protect. 

"  And  wear  thou  this" — she  solemn  said, 
And  bound  the  Holly  rouml  my  head  ; 
And  polish'd  leaves  and  berries  red 

Did  rustling  play  ; 
And,  like  a  passing  tliouiihr,  she  fled 

In  light  away. 


74  DUKNs'   roEMa. 

A  D  D  R  E  S  9 

TO   THE   UNCO    GUDE,    OR   TJIK    KIGIDLT    RlGHrEOC?. 


My  son,  these  maxims  make  a  rule, 
And  lump  them  aye  thef^ither; 

The  Ristid  Riphttous  is  a  fool, 
The  Rigid  Wise  anithcr: 

The  cleanest  corn  that  e'er  was  dight 
May  hae  some  pilee  o'  caff  in  ; 

Sae  ne'er  a  fellow-creature  slight 
For  random  fits  o'  daffin. 

Solomon. — Eccles. 


O  Ye  wha  are  sae  jjude  >  oursel 

Sae  pious  and  sae  holy, 
Ye've  nought  to  do  but  mark  and  tell 

Your  iicebour's  fauts  and  folly  ! 
Whase  life  is  like  a  weel-gaun  mil], 

Supply'd  wi'  store  o'  water, 
The  heapit  happtr's  ebbing  still, 

And  still  the  clap  plays  clatter. 

Hear  me,  ye  venerable  core, 

As  counsel  for  poor  mortals, 
That  frequent  pass  douce  Wisdom's  door 

For  glaiket  Folly's  portals  ; 
I,  for  their  thouj,4itless,  careless  sakes, 

Wad  here  propone  defences, 
Their  donsie  tricks,  their  black  mistakes, 

Their  failings,  and  mischances. 

Ye  see  your  state  wi'  theirs  compar'd 

And  shudder  at  the  niffer. 
But  cast  a  moment's  fair  regard, 

What  makes  the  mighty  difitr? 


Kniixs'   ?()KMs.  75 

Discount  wliat  scant  occasion  gave, 

Tliat  purity  ye  pride  in, 
And  (what's  afit  mair  than  a'  the  lave) 

Your  better  art  o'  hiding 

Tliink,  when  your  castijratcd  pulse 

(lies  now  and  then  a  wliallop, 
What  ragins  must  liis  veins  convuls;;. 

That  still  eternal  gallop; 
Wi'  wind  and  tide  fair  i'  your  tail, 

Riillit  on  ye  scud  your  sea-way  ; 
Hut  in  the  tottli  o'  baith  to  sail, 

It  maks  au  unco  lee-way. 

See  Social  Life  and  Glee  sit  down, 

A' joyous  and  unthinking. 
Till,  quite  transuiuurify'd,  they're  grown 

Debauchery  and  drinking ; 
O  wad  they  stay  to  calculate 

Th'  eternal  consequences ; 
Or  your  more  dreaded  hell  to  state, 

Damnation  of  expenses  ! 

Ye  high,  exalted,  virtuous  dames, 

Tied  up  in  godly  laces, 
Before  you  gie  poor  frallti/  names, 

Suppose  a  change  o'  cases  ; 
A  dear-lov'd  lad,  conveidence  snug, 

A  treacherous  inclination 

But,  let  me  whisper  i'  your  lug, 

Ye're  aiblius  uae  temptation. 

Then  gently  scan  your  brother  man, 

Still  gentler  sister  woman, 
Tho'  they  may  gang  a  kennin  wrang ; 

To  step  aside  is  liuman  ; 
One  point  must  still  be  greatly  dark, 

The  moving  w/nj  they  do  it  ; 


nriiNs    i'OKjrs. 

And  just  as  lamely  can  ye  mark, 
How  fur  perlia])8  tiny  rue  it. 

Wha  made  the  heart,  'tis  He  alone 

Decidedly  can  try  us, 
He  knows  each  cord,  its  various  tone, 

Each  spring,  its  various  bias  : 
Then  at  the  balance  let's  be  mute, 

We  never  can  adjust  it ; 
What's  done  we  partly  may  compute, 

But  ken  na  wiiat's  resistet. 

TAM  SAMSON'S*  ELEGY. 


All  lioncst  man's  tlie  noblest  work  oi  God.— Pope. 


Has  auld  Kilmarnock  seen  the  Deil  ? 
Or  great  M' K'lnlay'f  tlirawn  his  heel  ? 
Or  RobinxonX  a?ain  grown  weel, 

To  preach  and  read  ? 
"  Na,  waur  than  a' !"  cries  ilka  chiel, 

"  Tani  Samson's  dead." 

Kilmarnock  lang  may  grunt  and  grane. 
And  sigh,  and  sab,  and  i^reet  her  lane, 

•  When  this  worthy  old  sportsman  went  out  hist  muir- fowl 
season,  he  supposed  it  was  to  be,  in  Ossian's  phrase,  "the  last 
of  his  fields,"  and  (?xprossed  an  ardent  wish  to  die  and  be 
buried  in  the  muirs.  On  this  hint  the  author  comi;osed  his 
ele^y  and  epitaph. 

t  A  certain  preacher,  a  great  favourite  with  the  million. 
Vide  the  "Ordination,"  stanza  2, 

J  Another  preaiher,  an  equal  favourite  with  the  few,  who 
was  at  that  time  ailing.  For  him  see  also  the  "Ordination," 
Ktaiiz.i  i). 


BURNS      I'OKMS.  77 

And  deed  her  bairns,  man  wife,  and  wt-aii. 

In  luouriiinji-  weed  ; 
To  death  she's  dearly  paid  the  kane, 

Tani  Samson's  dead. 

The  brethren  o'  the  mystic  level 
May  hing  their  head  in  wofu'  bevel, 
While  by  tiieir  nose  the  tears  will  revel 

Like  ouy  bead; 
Death's  gien  the  L  ^dge  an  unco  deve!, 

Tani  Samson's  dead  ! 


When  Winter  nuitiies  up  his  qloak, 
And  binds  tlie  mire  like  a  rock  ; 
When  to  the  louglis  the  curlers  flock, 

A\'i'  <ileesoine  speed, 
Wha  will  they  station  at  the  cock  ? 

Tani  Samson's  dead  ! 

He  was  the  king  o'  a'  the  core, 
To  guard,  or  draw,  or  wick  a  bore, 
Or  up  the  rink  like  Jehu  roar 

In  time  o'  need  ; 
But  now  he  lags  on  death's  hog-score, 

Tarn  Samson's  dead  ! 

Now  safe  the  stately  saumont  sail. 
And  trouts  bedrop'd  wi'  crimson  hail, 
And  eels,  weel  kenn'd  for  souple  tail. 

And  geds  for  greed, 
Since  dark  in  death's,/z,s7i-c7Y'c^  we  wail 

Tam  Samson's  dead  ! 

Rejoice,  ye  birring  paitricks  a' ; 
Ye  cootie  muirococks,  crousely  craw  ; 
Ye  maukins,  cock  your  fuds  fu'  braw 
Withouten  dread  : 


78  BURNS'    POKMS. 

Vour  morfiil  fae  is  now  awa', 

Tarn  Samson's  dead. 

That  wofu'  morn  he  ever  mourn'd 
Saw  him  in  sliootirifj-fjraith  adoni'd, 
While  pointers  round  impatient  burn'd, 

Frae  coiij)le3  freed ; 
But,  och !  he  gaed,  and  ne'er  return'd 

Tarn  Samson's  dead  ! 

In  vain  auld  age  his  body  batters  ; 
In  vain  tlie  gout  his  ancles  fetters , 
In  vain  the  burns  come  down  like  waters. 

An  acre  braid  ! 
Now  every  auld  wife,  greeting,  clatters, 

Tarn  Samson's  dead ! 

Owre  monie  a  weary  hag  he  limpit, 
And  aye  the  tither  shot  he  thumpit^ 
Till  coward  Death  behint  hira  jumpit, 

Wi'  deadly  feide ; 
Now  he  proclaims,  wi  tout  o'  trumpet, 

Tarn  Samson's  dead ! 

When  at  his  heart  he  felt  the  dagger, 
He  reel'd  his  wonted  bottle-swagger, 
But  yet  he  drew  the  mortal  trigger 

Wi'  weel-aim'd  heed  ; 
"  Lord  five!"  he  cried,  and  owre  did  stagger; 

Tarn  Samson's  dead ! 

Ilk  hoary  hunter  raourn'd  a  brither  ; 
Ilk  sportsman-youth  beraoan'd  a  father  ; 
Yon  auld  gray  stane,  amang  the  heather, 

Marks  out  his  head, 
Whare  Burns  has  wrote  in  rhyming  blether, 

7'a/rt  Samson's  dead.' 


BURNS      I'OEMS.  79 

There  low  he  lies,  in  lasting  rest ; 
Perhaps  upon  his  mouldering:  breast 
Some  spitefu'  mulTibwi  bii^s  her  nest 

To  hatch  and  breed  ; 
Alas  !  nae  mair  he'll  fhem  molest ! 

Tani  Samson's  dead ! 

When  August  winds  the  heather  wave, 
And  sportsmen  wander  by  yon  grave, 
Three  volleys  let  his  niem'ry  entve 

O'  pouther  and  lead  ; 
Till  Echo  answers  frae  her  cave. 

Tarn  Samson's  dead  ! 

Heav'n  rest  his  saul,  whare'er  he  be  ! 
Is  th'  wish  o'  mony  mae  than  me  ; 
He  had  twa  fauts,  or  may  be  tliree, 

Yet  what  remead  ? 
Ae  social  honest  man  want  we  — 

Tam  Samson's  dead  ! 


THE  EPITAPH. 

Tam  Samson's  weel-worn  clay  here  lies, 
Ye  canting  zealots  si)are  him  ! 

If  honest  worth  in  heaven  rise, 
Y'e'U  mend  or  ye  win  near  him. 

TEK  COXTRA. 

Go,  Fame,  and  canter  like  a  filly 

Through  a'  the  streets  and  neuks  o'  Killie,* 

Tell  every  social,  lionest  billie 

To  cease  his  grievin ; 
For  yet,  unscaith'd  by  death's  gleg  gullie, 

Tam  Samson's  livln  ' 

•  Kilmarnock. 


80 


11  A  L  LOWE  EN.* 

Tin;  followintr  r«ioiii  will,  l).v  many  readpis,  be  well  cnoiiKh 
iiniJerstood ;  but  for  the  sake  of  those  who  are  unacquainted 
with  the  manners  and  traditions  of  the  country  where  tlie 
scene  is  cast,  Notes  are  added,  to  pive  some  account  of  the 
principal  Charms  and  Spells  of  that  nipht,  so  big  with 
Propliecy  to  the  Peasantry  in  the  West  of  Scotland.  The 
passion  of  prying  into  futurity  makes  a  striking  part  of  the 
history  of  Human  Nature  in  its  rude  state,  in  all  apes  and 
nations;  and  it  may  be  some  entertainment  in  a  philosophic 
mind,  if  any  such  should  honour  the  author  with  a  perusal, 
to  see  the  remains  of  it  among  the  more  unenlightened  in 
our  own. 


Yes!  let  the  ricli  deride,  tlie  proud  disdain, 
The  simple  pleasures  of  the  lowly  train; 
To  me  more  dear,  congenial  to  my  heart, 
One  native  charm,  than  all  the  gloss  of  art. 

Goldsiiiith. 


ri'OX  that  niulit,  when  fairies  light, 

On  Cassilis  Uotcnunsj  dance, 
Or  owre  the  lays,  in  splendid  blaze, 

On  sprightly  coursei's  prance  : 
Or  for  Colcun  the  rout  is  ta'en, 

Beneath  tiie  moon's  pale  beams  ; 
There,  up  the  Cove,X  to  stray  and  rove 

Amang  the  rot^ks  and  stream.s, 

To  sport  that  night, 

•  Is  thought  to  be  a  night  when  witches,  devils,  and  other 
mischief-making  beings  are  all  abroad  on  their  baneful  mid- 
night errands;  jiarticularly  those  aerial  people,  the  fairies, 
are  said,  on  that  night,  to  hold  a  grand  anniversary. 

+  Certain  little  romantic,  rocky,  green  hills,  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  the  ancient  seat  of  the  Earls  of  Cassilis. 

X  A  noted  cavern  near  Colean-house,  called  the  Cove  of 
Colean,  which,  as  well  as  Cassilis  Downans,  is  famed  in 
country  story  for  being  a  favourite  haunt  of  fairies. 


BURNS'    rOEMS.  81 

Aniang  tlie  bonny  winding:  banks, 

Where  Boon  riiis  wimplin  clear, 
Wliere  Bruce*  ance  rul'd  the  ni:irtial  ranks, 

And  shook  tlie  Can-ich  spear, 
Some  merry,  friendly  contra  folks 

Tofrether  did  convene, 
To  bium  their  nits,  i\m\  pou  their  stocks, 

And  hand  their  Ilnlloircen, 

Fu'  blithe  that  night. 

The  lasses  feat,  and  cleanly  neat, 

Mair  braw  than  when  they're  tine  ; 
Their  faces  blithe,  fii'  sweetly  kytlie, 

Hearts  leal,  and  warm,  and  kin' : 
The  lads  sue  tri.;-,  wi"  wooer-babs. 

Well  knotted  on  their  garten, 
Some  unco  blate,  and  some  wi'  gabs, 

Gar  lasses'  hearts  gang  startin, 

Wliyles  fast  at  night. 

Then  first  and  foremost,  thro'  the  kail. 
Their  sfoch.si  maun  a'  be  soii^'ht  ance; 

They  steek  their  een,  and  graip  and  wale, 
Fur  rauckle  anes,  and  straught  anes. 

•  The  famous  family  of  that  name,  the  ancestors  of  Robert, 
the  great  deliverer  of  his  country,  were  Earls  of  Carrick. 

tThe  first  ceremony  of  Halloween  is  pulling  each  a  stoc/i, 
or  plant  of  kail.  They  must  pro  out,  hand  in  hand,  with  ey<'8 
shut,  and  pull  ihe  first  they  meet  with  ;  its  beins:  bitr  or  little, 
strai;,'ht  or  crooked,  is  proplietic.  of  the  size  and  shape  of  the 
object  of  all  their  spells — the  husband  or  wife.  If  auyyird, 
or  earth,  stick  to  the  root,  that  is  tocher  or  fortune;  and 
the  taste  of  the  cttxtac,  that  is,  the  iieart  of  the  stem,  is 
indicative  of  the  natural  temper  and  disposition.  Lastly, 
the  stems,  or,  to  pive  tiiem  their  ordinary  appellation,  the 
runts,  are  placed  somewhere  above  the  head  of  the  door; 
and  the  Cliristian  names  of  tlie  people  whom  chance  brines 
into  the  hour,e,  are  according  to  the  priority  of  placing  the 
ruut.<!,  the  names  in  question. 
17  (i 


82  UUKNS'    roKM». 

Pour  liav'ivl  Will  fell  aff  tlie  drift. 

And  wander'fl  tliro'  tiie  bow-knit, 
And  pou't,  lor  want  o'  better  shift, 

A  nod  was  likg  a  sow-tail, 

Sae  bow't  that  nizht. 

Tlien,  straught  or  crooked,  yird  or  nane, 

They  roar  and  cry  a'  throu'tiier; 
The  very  wee  tilings,  todlin,  rin 

Wi'  stocks  out-owre  their  shouther  ; 
And  gif  the  custoc's  sweet  or  sour, 

Wi' jfictelegs  tliey  taste  them  ; 
Syne  coziely,  aboon  the  door, 

Wi'  cannie  care  tliey've  phic'd  thcin 
To  lie  that  night. 

The  lasses  staw  frae  'mang  them  a', 

To  pou  their  stalks  o'  corn;* 
But  Rab  slips  out,  and  jinks  about 

Behind  the  mackle  thorn  : 
lie  gri])[)et  Nelly  hard  and  fast ; 

Loud  skirled  a'  the  lasses ; 
But  her  tap-pickle  niaist  was  lost. 

When  kiutlin  i'  the  fause-hou-^et 
Wi'  him  that  night. 

The  auld  gudewife's  weel-hordet  nits,X 
Are  round  and  round  divided, 

•  Tliey  KO  to  tlie  bain-yard  and  pull  each,  at  threp 
several  times,  a  stalk  cf  oais.  If  tlie  tliird  stalk  wants  the 
top-jnclde,  that  is  tlie  grain  at  the  top  of  the  stalk,  the  parly 
in  question  will  come  to  the  mariage-bed  any  thing  but  a 
maid. 

t  When  the  corn  is  in  a  doubtful  state,  by  beiiic  too  green 
or  wtt,  the  stack-builder,  by  means  of  old  timber,  £cc.  makes 
H  larjre  apartment  in  his  stack,  with  an  openiii'^  in  the  side 
which  is  most  exposed  to  the  wind;  this  he  cvWs  &  favse- 
hoiise. 

Z  Burning;  the  nuts  is  a  favourite  charm.  They  n^vn^  the 
•ad  and  lass  to  each  particular  nut,  as  they  lay  lii  ni  in  ih# 


n urns'   pokms.  S3 

And  monie  lads'  and  lasses'  fates 

Are  there  that  nif^ht  decided  : 
Somekindh",  couthie,  side  by  side, 

And  buDi  thcgirlier  trimly  ; 
Some  start  awa'  wi'  saucy  pride. 

And  jump  out-owre  tlie  ohinilie 
Fa'  high  that  night. 

Jean  slips  in  twa,  wi'  tentie  ee; 

Wha  twas,  she  wadna  tell ; 
But  tliis  is  Juck,  and  this  is  tne, 

Slie  says  in  to  hersel : 
He  bleez'd  owre  her,  and  she  owre  him, 

As  they  wad  never  raair  part ; 
'Till  futf !  he  startdi  up  the  lum, 

And  Jean  had  e'en  a  sair  heart, 
To  see't  tiiat  night. 

Poor  Willie,  wi'  his  how-hnl  rimt 

Was  brunt  wi'  priinsie  Mallie  ; 
And  Mallie,  nae  doubt,  took  the  drunt., 

To  be  conipar'd  to  Willie  : 
Mall's  nit  lap  out  wi'  pridel'u'  fiinjr, 

And  her  ain  fit  it  brunt  it ; 
M'hile  Willie  lap,  and  swoor  hyji/ig, 

'Twas  just  the  way  he  wanted 
To  be  that  night 

Nell  had  the  fause-house  in  her  miii', 

She  pits  herself  and  Rob  in  ; 
In  loving  bleeze  they  sweetly  join, 

Till  white  in  ase  they're  solibin  : 
Nell's  heart  was  dancing  at  the  view  ; 

She  whisper'd  Rob  to  leuk  for't : 


flrp;  and  accord  ugly  as  tliey  burn  quietly  fo^ethpr,  or  start 
from  beside  one  inolhor,  the  course  and  issue  of  the  court- 
gbip  will  be. 


84  HL'UNS'    POEMS. 

Rob,  stowlins,  prie'd  her  bonny  inou, 
Fu'  cozic  in  tlie  neuk  fort, 

Unseen  that  night. 

But  IMfTran  sat  hr liint  tlieir  hacks, 

Iler  thoughts  on  Andrew  Bell, 
She  lea'es  tlioin  <rasliiri  at  their  cracks, 

And  slips  out  by  liersel : 
She  thro'  the  yard  tlie  nearest  taks, 

And  to  the  kiln  she  jroes  then, 
And  darkliiis  graipit  for  the  banks. 

And  in  the  bluc-clcir*  throws  them, 
Right  fear't  that  night. 

And  ay  she  win't,  and  aye  she  swat ; 

I  wat  she  made  nae  juiikin  : 
Till  something  held  within  the  pat, 

Gude  L— d  !  but  she  was  quakin  ! 
But  whether  'twas  the  De'il  hiinsel. 

Or  whether  'twas  a  bauk-en', 
Or  whether  it  was  Andrew  Bell, 

She  didna  wait  on  talkin 

To  spier  that  night. 

Wee  Jenny  to  her  Grannie  says, 
"  Will  ye  go  wi'  me,  Grannie  ? 

I'll  eat  the  apple  t  at  the  glass 
I  gat  frae  uncle  Johnnie  : 


•  Whoever  would,  with  success,  try  this  spell,  must  strictly 
observe  these  directions:  Steal  out,  all  alone,  to  the  kiln, 
and,  darkling,  throw  in  the  pot  a  clew  of  blue  vain;  wind 
it  in  a  new  clew  off  the  old  one;  and,  towards  the  latter  end, 
something  will  hold  the  thread;  demand,  Wha  hands?  i.e. 
who  holds?  an  answer  will  be  returned  from  the  kiln-pot, 
by  naming  the  Christian  and  surname  of  your  future  spouse. 

♦  Take  a  candle,  and  go  alone  to  a  looking-glass;  eat  an 
upple  before  it;   and  some  traditions  sa}',  you  should  comb 


BUUNS'    POKMS.  66 


She  iufi"d  her  pipe  \vi'  sic  a  hint, 
In  wrath  slie  was  sae  vap'rin, 

She  iiotic'd  na,  an  aizU;  brunt 
Her  braw  new  worset  apron 

Out  thro'  that  night. 

"  Ye  little  skelpio-limmer's  face  I 

How  dare  you  try  sic  sportin, 
As  seek  the  foul  thief  ony  place, 

For  hiin  to  spae  your  fortune  : 
Nae  doubt  but  ye  may  get  a  si(jlit ! 

Great  cause  ye  hae  to  fear  it ; 
For  niony  a  ane  has  j^otten  a  fright, 

An'  liv'd  and  died  deleeret 
On  ^ic  a  night. 

"  Ae  hairst  afore  the  Sherra-Moor, 

I  mind't  as  weel's  yestreen, 
I  was  a  gilpey  then,  I'm  sure 

I  was  no  past  fyfteen  : 
Tiie  simmer  had  been  cold  and  wat, 

And  stuff  was  unco  green  ; 
And  ay  a  rantin  kirn  we  gat, 

And  just  on  Halloween 

It  fell  that  night. 

"  Our  stibble-rig  was  Rab  M'Graen, 

A  clever  sturdy  fallow  ; 
He's  sin  gat  iljjple  Sim  wi'  wean, 

That  liv'd  in  Achmacalla; 
He  gat  heinp-sccd*  I  mind  it  weel, 

And  he  umde  unco  light  o't ; 


jMiir  huir  all  the  time;  the  face  of  your  coiijuKuI  coin- 
l>itiiion,  to  he,  will  be  seen  in  the  glass,  as  if  peeping  over 
your  shoulder. 

Steal  out,   unperccived,  and  sow  an  handful  of   lictn])- 
Heed,    harrowing    it    with   any    tiling    you    can  conveniently 


80  UUUNS'    1*0  KMH, 

Hut  niony  a  day  was  hij  himsel, 
He  was  sae  snirlv  lri;;lit(^iJ 

Thiit  vera  ui"ht." 


Then  up  gat  fVclitin  Jamie  Fleck, 

And  he  swoor  hy  liis  conscience, 
Tliat  he  could  smc!  hemp-seed  a  peck 

For  it  was  a'  but  nonsense  : 
The  auld  sudi'unin  rau^ht  down  the  pock, 

And  out  a  hiindfu'  \ik'\\  him; 
Syne  bade  him  slip  fnie  'nianj;  the  folk, 

Some  time  win  n  nae  ;ine  seed  him, 
And  try't  that  nigiit. 

He  marches  thro'  araang  the  stacks, 

Tho'  he  was  somctliin<r  sturtin  ; 
The  (jraip  he  for  a  Iim-row  tacks, 

And  haurls  at  his  curpin  : 
And  ev'ry  now  and  then,  he  says, 

"  Hemp-seed,  I  saw  thee. 
And  her  that  is  to  he  my  lass, 

Come  after  me  and  draw  thee, 
As  fast  this  night." 

He  whistled  up  Lord  Lennox'  march, 

To  keep  his  courage  cheery  ; 
Altho'  his  hair  becian  to  arch. 

He  was  sae  fley'd  and  eerie : 


draw  after  you.  Rrpcat,  now  and  then,  "Hemp-seed,  I 
saw  tlice,  lienip-seed,  I  saw  tliee;  and  him  (or  her)  that  is 
to  bo  niy  true-iove,  come  after  me  and  pou  thee."  Look 
over  your  left  slioulder,  ;ind  you  will  see  the  person  invoked, 
in  the  attitude  of  puillnR  hemp.  Some  traditions  say, 
"  Como  after  nie  and  shaw  thee,"  that  is,  show  thyself;  in 
which  case  it  simply  appears.  Others  omit  the  harrowing, 
and  say,  "Come  after  me,  and  harrow  thee." 


IIUKNS'     I'OKMS.  87 

Till  presently  he  luars  a  squeak. 

And  then  a  grane  an'  gruntle: 
He  by  his  shoutiier  gae  a  keek, 

And  tumbled  wi'  a  wintle 

Out-owre  that  ni.;ht. 


He  roar'd  a  horrid  nmrder-shout, 

In  dreadfu'  desperation  ! 
And  younj?  and  unld  cam  rinnln  out, 

To  hear  the  sad  narration  • 
He  swoor  'twas  liilcliin  Jean  M'Craw, 

Or  Croucliie  ]\Ierran  Huniphie, 
Till  stop  !  she  trotfi'd  thro'  tliem  a' 

And  wlia  was  it  but  grumphie 

Asteer  tliat  nighl 

ileg  fain  wad  to  the  l)arn  hae  gane  , 

To  win  three  wechts  d"  iiaet/iing  ;* 
But  for  to  meet  the  deil  her  lane, 

She  put  but  little  faith  in  : 
Site  gies  the  herd  a  pickle  nits, 

And  twi"  rt-d-cheekit  apples, 
To  watch,  while  for  the  burn  she  sets, 

lu  hopes  to  see  Taiu  Kipples 

Tliat  verv  nicht. 


•  This  charm  must  likewise  be  performed,  un perceived  and 
alone.  You  go  to  the  barn,  and  open  both  doors,  taking 
thtni  off  the  liinses  if  possible,  lor  tliere  is  danger  that  the 
being  about  to  ap|)ear  may  shut  lite  doors,  and  do  )'ou  some 
mischief.  Tlien  take- tluit  instrument  used  in  winnowing  the 
corn,  which,  in  our  country  d.alect,  we  call  a  wecht,  and  go 
llirougii  all  the  attitudes  of  letting  down  corn  against  the 
wind.  Repeat  it  three  times:  and  the  tiiird  time  an  appa- 
rition will  pass  througii  the  barn,  in  at  the  windy  door  and 
out  at  tiie  other,  having  both  the  figure  in  question,  and  the 
a|ipearanco  or  retinue  marliing  the  employuuut  or  station 
in  life. 


68  BUHNb'    POKMS. 

She  turns  the  key  wi'  cannie  thrnw, 

An'  owre  tlie  threshold  vt-nfures; 
But  first  on  Sawnie  gies  a  ca', 

Syne  bauhily  in  she  enters  : 
A  ratton  rattled  up  the  \va', 

And  she  cried,  L— d  preserve  her! 
And  ran  thro'  midden-hole  and  a', 

An'  pray'd  wi'  zoal  and  fervour, 
Fu'  fast  that  night. 

They  hoy't  out  Will,  wi'  sair  advice  ; 

Tiiey  liecht  him  some  fine  bravv  ane  ; 
It  chanc'd  the  t^tach  hi\t'uddoin'd  thrice' 

Was  timnier  propt  for  thrawin  : 
He  taks  a  swirlie  auld  mo.ss-oak. 

For  some  black  grousome  carlin  : 
And  loot  a  winze,  and  drew  a  stroke, 

Till  skin  in  blypes  cam  haurlin 

Aif 's  nieves  that  night. 

A  wanton  widow  Leezie  was, 

As  cantie  as  a  kittlin; 
But,  och  !  that  niffht,  amang  the  shaws, 

She  gat  a  fearfu'  settlin  ! 
She  thro'  the  whins,  and  by  the  cairn, 

And  owre  the  hill  gaed  scrieviu, 
Whare  three  lairds'  lamh  met  at  a  burn,\ 

To  dip  her  left  savk  sleeve  in. 

Was  bent  that  niirht. 


•  Tiike  ail  opjiortunity  of  goinp:,  unnoticed,  to  a  bean-stack, 
und  fathom  it  three  times  round.  The  last  fathom  of  the 
hist  time  you  will  catch  in  your  arms  the  appearance  of  your 
future  coiijupal  yoke-fellow. 

t  You  go  out,  one  or  more,  for  this  is  a  social  ppcll,  to  a 
south-running  sprinpr,  or  rivulet,  where  "three  lairds' 
lands  meet,"  and  dip  your  left  shirt  sleeve.  Go  to  bed  in 
sight  of  a  firn,   and  lung   your  wet  sleeve   before   it   to  dry. 


BURiNS'    rOKMS.  bO 


Wliyles  owre  the  linn  tl»e  bnrnie  plays, 

As  tiiro'  the  glen  It  wimpl't ; 
Whyles  round  ;i  rocky  scar  it  stays, 

\\  hyles  in  a  vi^l  it  dinipl't ; 
Wliyles  glitter'd  to  the  nitihtly  rays, 

Wi'  bickering,  dancin;^  dazzle  ; 
\yhyles  coekit  underneath  the  braes, 

Below  tlie  spreading  hazel. 

Unseen  that  night. 


Amang  the  brachens,  on  the  brae, 

Between  her  and  tlie  moon, 
The  deil,  or  else  an  outler  quey, 

Gat  up  and  gae  a  croon ; 
Poor  Leezie's  heart  niaist  hip  the  hool ; 

Near  lavTock-heigiit  she  junipit; 
But  miss'd  a  fir,  and  in  tiie  pnol 

Out-owre  the  Ings  she  plumpit, 

Wi'  a  plunge  that  night. 

In  order,  on  the  clean  hearth-stane, 
The  liujdics  three*  are  ranired, 

And  every  time  great  care  is  ta'en 
To  see  them  duly  chaJiged  ! 


Lie  awake  ;  anrl,  some  time  near  raidnisiht,  an  ai)pavition 
havirii;  tlie  exiiot  fiijure  of  tlie  grantl  object  in  question, 
will  come  and  turn  tlie  sleeve,  as  if  to  dry  the  other  side  of  it. 
•  Take  tliree  dishes;  put  clean  water  in  one,  foul  water  in 
another,  and  have  the  tliird  empty.  Blindfold  a  person, 
and  lead  hiin  to  the  hearth  where  the  dishes  are  ranRed :  he 
(or  she)  dips  the  li  ft  hand:  if  hy  chance  in  the  clean  »vater, 
tlie  future  husband  or  wife  will  come  to  the  bar  of  matri- 
mony a  maid;  if  in  the  foul,  a  widow;  if  in  the  emjity  dish, 
it  furetels,  with  equal  certainty,  no  marriaze  at  all.  It  is 
repeated  three  times;  and  evury  time  *lie  arran^ieuient  A 
the  dishes  is  altered. 


•lO  i;i   ilNs'    I'OKMS. 

Aultl  Uncle  Jolm,  wlm  wpdlock's  joys 
Sin  Mar's  year  did  desire, 

because  he  pfat  the  toom  dish  thrice, 
He  hoav'd  thein  on  tiie  fire, 

III  wrath  that  night. 

Wi'  merry  saii^s,  an'  friendly  cracks, 

I  wat  they  tlidna  weary  ; 
And  luico  tales,  and  fufiny  jokes. 

Their  sports  were  cheap  and  cheery. 
Till  butter'd  so'jis*  wi'  fragrant  luut, 

Sets  a'  their  cabs  a-steerin  ; 
Syne,  wi'  a  social  jilass  o'  strunt, 
*Thev  parted  aff  careerin 

Fii'  blvthe  that  night. 


THE 

AULD    FARMER'S 

NKW-YEAR  MORNING    SALUTATION  TO  IIIS  AULD 
MARE   MAGGIE, 

On  gi\iiio'  her  tlip  accustomed  Ripp  of  Corn  to  hansel  in  the 
New  Year. 

A  Gude  New-Year  I  wish  thee,  Maggie  I 
Hae,  there's  a  ripp  to  thy  auld  baggie  ; 
Tho'  thou's  howe-backit  now,  and  knaggie, 

I've  seen  the  day, 
Thou  could  hae  gaen  like  ony  staggie 

Out-owre  the  lay. 

Tho'  now  thou's  dowie,  stiff,  and  crazy, 
And  thy  auld  hide's  as  white's  a  daisy, 


•  Sowens,  witli  butter  instead  of  milk  to  them,  is  iilways 
the  Halloween  sujipcr. 


r\('  seen  thee  dappl't,  sleek,  and  glaizie, 

A  bonny  gray  : 
He  sliould  been  titrht  that  daur't  to  raize  thee 

Ance  in  a  day. 

Thou  ance  was  i'  tlie  foremost  rank, 
A.JiUii  buirdly,  steeve,  and  swank, 
And  set  weel  down  a  shai)ely  sliank 

As  e'er  tread  yird  ; 
And  could  hae  flown  out-owre  a  stank 

Like  ony  bird, 

It's  now  some  nine-and-twenty  year, 
Sin'  thou  was  my  •jnid  father's  ineere, 
He  gied  me  tlite,  o'  tocher  clear, 

And  fifty  mark  : 
Though  it  was  snia',  'twas  weel-won  {jear. 

And  thou  was  stark. 


When  first  I  gaed  to  woo  my  Jenny, 
Ye  then  was  trottin  wi'  your  minnie  : 
The'  ye  was  trickie,  slee,  and  funny, 

Ye  ne'er  was  donsie  ; 
Hut  hamely  tawie,  quiet,  and  cannie, 

And  unco  sonsie. 

That  day  ye  pranc'd  wi'  muckle  pride. 
When  ye  bure  hame  my  bonnie  bride  : 
And  sweet  and  gracel'u'  slie  did  ride, 

Wi'  maiden  air ! 
Kyle-Steicnrt  I  could  bra.Lrged  wide, 

For  sic  a  pair. 

Tho'  now  ye  dow  but  hoyte  and  hobbm. 
And  wintle  like  a  sauniont-coble, 
That  day  ye  was  a  jinker  noble, 

For  heels  and  win'. 


92  BL'K.NS'    roKMS. 

Alul  ran  them  till  tlicy  a'  did  wauble 
Far,  fur  beliin'. 

When  thou  and  I  were  young  and  skeigh, 

And  stable-meals  at  fairs  were  dreigh, 

How  thou  wad  prance,  and  snort,  and  skreigh, 

And  tak  the  road, 
Town's  bodies  ran,  and  stood  abeigli, 

And  ca't  thee  mad. 

When  thou  was  corn't,  and  I  was  mellow, 
We  took  the  road  ay  like  a  swallow  : 
At  brooscs  thou  had  ne'er  a  fallow, 

For  pith  and  speed  ; 
But  every  tail  thou  puy't  them  hollow, 

^^'hare'er  thou  gaed. 

The  sma'  droop-runipl't  hunter  cattle. 
Might  aiblins  waurt  thee  for  a  brattle  ; 
But  sax  Scotch  miles  tiiou  try't  tlieir  mettle, 

And  gar't  them  whaizle  ; 
Nae  whip  nor  spur,  but  just  a  whattle 

O'  saugh  or  hazel. 

Thou  was  a  noWe^fitlle-lan' 

As  e'er  in  tug  or  tow  w;is  drawn  ; 

Aft  thee  and  I,  in  aught  hours  gaun, 

On  jrude  March  weather, 
Has  turn'd  sax  rood  beside  our  ban', 

For  days  thegither. 

Thou  never  braindg't,  and  fech't,  and  fliskit, 
But  thy  au'd  tail  thou  wad  hae  whiskit. 
And  spread  abreed  thy  weel-fill'd  brisket, 

Wi'  pith  and  power, 
Till  sprirty  knowes  wad  rair't  and  risket, 

An'  slypet  owre. 


burns'  pokms.  03 

When  frosts  lay  lang,  and  snaws  were  deep, 
And  threaten'd  labour  back  to  keep, 
I  gied  thy  co|^  a  wee  bit  heap, 

Aboon  the  timmer ; 
I  kenn'd  my  Mnijij'tc  wad  na  sleep 

For  that,  or  simmer. 

In  cart  or  car  thou  never  reestit ; 

The  steyest  brae  thou  wad  iiae  fac't  it ; 

Thou  never  lap,  and  sten'r,  and  breastit, 

Then  stood  to  blaw  ; 
But  just  thy  step  a  wee  thing  hastit, 

Tiion  suoov't  awa. 

My  plevrjh  is  now  thy  bairn-tinae  a' ; 
Four  gallant  brutes  as  e'er  did  draw; 
Forbye  sax  mae,  I've  sell't  awa, 

That  thou  hast  nurst : 
They  drew  me  tliretteen  pund  and  twa, 

Tlje  very  warst. 

Mony  a  sair  daurk  we  twa  hae  wrought, 
And  wi'  the  weary  warl'  fought ! 
And  mony  an  anxious  day,  I  thought 

We  wad  lie  beat ! 
Yet  here  to  crazy  age  were  brought ! 

Wi'  something  yet. 

And  think  na,  my  auld  trusty  servan', 
That  now,  jierhaps,  thou's  less  deservin, 
And  thy  auld  days  may  end  in  starvin, 

For  my  last./b«, 
A  heapit  stimpart,  I'll  reserve  ane 

Laid  by  lor  you. 

We've  worn  to  crazy  years  thegither  ; 
Wv'll  toyte  about  wi'ane  anither  ; 


114  nUK.Ni'    I'OKMS. 

Wi'  teiitie  cure  I'll  fit  thy  tether 
To  sojTU-  liiiin'd  rig, 

Whare  ye  may  Mol)]y  rax  your  leather, 
Wi'  siiia'  fati^iue. 


TO    A    MOUSE, 

OK    TI'RNIXG    HKR   VP    IN    IIKR    NEST   WITH     THE    PLOCOH. 

November,  ]7do. 

Wee,  sleeklt,  cowrin,  tim'rous  bcastio  I 
O,  what  a  panic's  in  thy  breastie ! 
Thou  need  na  start  awa  sae  hastie, 

Wi'  bickerin.fj  brattle ! 
I  wad  be  laith  to  rin  an'  chase  the?, 

Wi'  murd'rin  pattle. 

I'm  truly  sorry  Man's  dominion, 
Has  broken  Nature's  social  union, 
An' justifies  that  ill  opinion 

Wliich  makes  thee  startle 
At  me,  thy  poor,  earth-born  companion, 

kx)!  feUoic-mortaL 

I  doubt  na,  whiles,  but  thou  may  thieve: 
What  then  ?  poor  beastie,  thou  maun  live 
A  dabnen-icher  in  a  thrave 

'S  a  sma'  request : 
I'll  get  a  bleesing  wi'  the  lave, 

And  never  miss't. 

Thy  wee  bit  hoiisie,  too,  in  ruin  ! 
It's  silly  wa's  the  win's  are  strewin  ! 
An  naethirig  now  to  big  a  new  ar.e 
O'  I'oggage  green  ! 


burns'    I'OKMS.  95 

An'  bleak  December's  winds  en?uiii, 
Baith  snell  and  keen  ! 

Thou  saw  the  fields  laid  bare  and  waste, 
An'  weary  winter  comin-j  fast, 
An'  coziehere,  beneath  the  blast, 

Thon  thought  to  dwell, 
Till  crash  !  the  cruel  coulter  past 

Out  through  tiiy  cell. 

That  wee  bit  heap  o'  leaves  and  stilible. 
Has  cost  thee  mony  a  weary  nihl)le ! 
Now  thou's  tnrii'd  out,  for  a'  thv  troul)lc, 

But  house  or  bald, 
To  thole  the  winter's  sleety  dribble. 

And  cranrench  cauld  I 

But,  Mousie.  thon  art  no  thy  lane, 
In  \iVO\in^,  fores'uiht  may  he  vain: 
Tlie  best-laid  scliemes  o'  n)ice  and  men 

Ganir  afr  a-dey, 
And  lea'e  ns  nonp^ht  but  Cinef  and  pain, 

For  proniis'd  joy. 

Still  thou  art  blest,  compar'd  wi'  me  : 
The  present,  only  touchetii  thee: 
But,  och!  I  backward  cast  my  ee. 

On  prospects  drear  I 
And  forward,  thou'jh  I  canna  nee. 

I  guess  •dw'Je.ar. 


i)(i  burns'  I'OKMS. 

A  WINTKR  NIGHT. 


Poor  naked  wrptchts,  wtioresop'or  jou  are, 
That  bide  tlie  pfltins  of  tliis  pitilces  storm! 
How  sliull  your  houseless  lieads,  and  unfed  sidos. 
Your  loop'd  and  window'd  raggedness,  defend  you 
From  seasons  such  as  <hese  'J— 

SkahsjM'are. 


WiiKN  biting  Borcmi'  fell  find  doure, 
Sharp  sliivers  thro'  the  leafless  bow'r  : 
When  Phoebus  tries  a  shorf-liv'd  jilow'r 

Far  south  the  lift — 
Dhn-dark'iiing  thro'  the  flaky  show'r 

Or  whirling  drift : 

Ac  nifrht  the  storm  the  steeples  rocked, 
Poor  Labour  sweet  in  sleep  was  locked. 
While  burns,  wi'  snawy  wreaths  up -choked 

Wild-eddying  swiri, 
Or  thro'  the  mining  outlet  1)ock'd, 

Down  headlong  hurl. 

List'ning  the  doors  and  winnocks  mttle, 
I  thought  uie  on  the  oiirie  cattle, 
Or  silly  sheep,  wha  bide  this  brattle, 

O'  winter  war, 
.\nd  thro'  the  drift,  deep-lairing,  sprattie 

Beneath  a  scar. 

Ilk  happing  bird,  wee,  helpless  thing ! 
That,  in  the  merry  months  o'  spring. 
Delighted  me  to  hear  thee  sing, 

What  comes  o'  thee  ? 
Whare  wilt  thou  cow'r  thy  chittering  wing, 

And  close  thy  ee  ? 


burns'  I'oi'.M.s.  97 

Ev'n  you  on  niurd'ring  errands  toil'd, 
Lone  from  your  savage  hoinivs  exii'd. 
The  blood-stain'd  roost,  and  sheep-cot  spoil'd, 

i\Iy  heart  forgets, 
While  pitiless  the  tempest  wild 

Sore  on  you  beats. 

Now  Phoehe,  in  her  midiii^^ht  reign, 
Dark  muffl'd,  view'd  the  dreary  phiin. 
Still  crowding  thoughts,  a  pensive  trdiii, 

Rose  in  my  soul. 
When  on  my  ear  this  plaintive  strain, 

Slow,  solemn,  stole 

"  Blow,  blov/,  ye  winds,  with  heavier  gui-t ! 
And  freeze,  tliou  bitter-biting  frost ! 
Dt'scend,  ye  chilly,  smotheriniT  snows  ! 
Not  all  your  ra.re,  as  now  united,  shows 

More  hard  unkindness,  unrelenting, 

Vengeful  malice,  unn-penting, 
Than  heav'n-illumin'd  Man  on  brother  Man  bestows. 

See  stern  Oppression's  iron  grip, 
Or  mad  Ambition's  gory  liand, 

Sending,  like  blood-hounds  from  the  slip, 
Woe,  want,  and  murder,  o'er  a  laiid  I 

Ev'n  in  the  peaceful  rural  vale, 

Truth,  wei'piiig,  tells  tin?  mournful  tale, 
How  pamper'd  Luxury,  Flutt'ry  by  lier  side, 

The  parasite  empoisoning  her  ear, 

With  all  the  servile  wretches  in  the  rear. 
Looks  o'er  proud  Property  extended  wide, 

And  eyes  the  simple,  rustic  Plind, 
Whose  toil  upholds  tlie  jilittering  show, 

A  creature  of  another  kind. 

Some  coarser  substance,  unrefin'd. 
Placed  for  her  lordly  use  thus  far,  thus  vile  below. 

Where,  where  is  Love's  tond,  tender  throe, 

With  lordly  Honour's  lofty  brow, 

Tile  pow'rs  you  proudly  own? 

II 


OS  lU'KNs'    I'OKMS. 

Is  tliere,  beneath  Love's  noble  name, 

Can  harbour,  dark,  the  selfish  aim, 
To  bless  himself  alone  ? 

Mark  maiden- innocence  a  prey 
To  love-pretending  snares ; 

This  boasted  lionour  turns  away, 

Shunning  soft  Pity's  rising  sway, 
Regardless  of  the  tears,  and  unavailing  pray'rs  ! 

Perhaps,  this  hour,  in  Mis'ry's  squalid  nest, 

She  strains  your  infant  to  her  joyless  breast, 
And  with  a  motlier's  fears  shrinks  at  the  rocking  blast ! 
Oh  ye  !  who,  sunk  on  beds  of  down, 

Feel  not  a  want  but  what  yourselves  create, 

Think,  for  a  moment,  on  his  wretched  fate, 
Whom  friends  and  fortune  quite  disown  I 
Ill-satisfyd  keen  Nature's  clam'rous  call, 

Stretch'd  on  his  straw  he  lays  himself  to  sleep, 
While  thro'  tlie  ragged  roof  and  eliinky  wall, 

Chill  o'er  his  slumhers  piles  the  drifty  heap  ! 

Think  on  the  dungeon's  grim  confine, 

Where  Guilt  and  poor  Misfortune  pine ! 

Guilt,  erring  man,  relenting  view! 

But  shall  thy  regal  r<ige  pursue 

The  wretch  already  crushed  low 

By  cruel  Fortune's  undeserved  l)low  ? 
Affliction's  sons  are  brothers  in  distress  ; 
A  brother  to  relieve,  how  exquisite  the  bliss!" 


I  heard  nae  mair,  for  Chnniicleer 
Shook  ofFtlie  ]iouthery  snaw, 

And  hail'd  the  morning  wi'  a  cheer, 
A  cottage-rousing  craw. 

But  deep  this  truth  inipress'd  ray  mind- 
'I'lirough  all  His  works  abroad, 

The  heart  benevolent  and  kind 
Tiie  most  resembles  God. 


BUKNS'     I'UKMS.  y9 

K  IM  S  T  L  E    TO    13  A  V  I  E  ,* 

A   BUOTHUU    POET. 

Janitm-y  . 

While  winds  frae  &ff  BcJi~Lonio7i</  l)hiw, 
And  bar  the  doors  wi'  drivin<^  snaw, 

And  hin;j:  u>  owre  the  in^le, 
I  set  me  down  to  pass  tlie  time, 
And  spin  a  verse  or  twa  o'  rhyme, 

In  haniely  westlin  jin'^le. 
While  frosty  winds  blaw  in  the  drift, 

Ben  to  the  chiinhi-lug, 
I  grudge  a  wee  the  great  folk's  gift, 
That  live  sae  bieii  an'  snug  : 
I  tent  less,  and  want  less, 

Their  roomy  Hre-side; 
But  hanker  and  canker 
To  see  their  cursed  pride. 

It's  hardly  in  a  body's  power 

To  keep,  at  times,  frae  being  sour. 

To  see  how  things  are  shar'd  ; 
How  best  o'  duels  are  whyles  in  want. 
While  coofs  on  countless  tliousands  lant, 

And  ken  na  how  to  wair't ; 
But,  Davie,  lad,  ne'er  fash  your  head, 

Though  we  hae  little  gear, 
We're  tTt  to  win  our  daily  bread, 
As  lang's  we're  hale  and  fier: 
"  Mair  spier  na,  nor  fear  na,"t 
Auld  Age  ne'er  mind  a  feg; 
The  last  o't  the  warst  o't, 
Is  only  for  to  beg. 


'  David  Sillar,  one  of  tlie  club  atTarlmlton,  t!ic  author  at 
fa  Volume  of  Poems  in  the  Scottisli  dialect. 
t  Ruin  say. 


li;0  KUU.NS      l^OKMS. 

To  lie  in  kilns  and  burns  at  e'en 

When  banes  are  crazed,  and  blude  is  thin. 

Is,  doubtless,  great  distress  ! 
Yet  then  content  could  niak  us  blest; 
Ev'n  then  sometimes,  we'd  snatch  a  ta^te 

Of  truest  liappiness. 
The  honest  heart  that's  free  frae  a' 

Intended  fraud  or  guile, 
However  Fortune  kick  the  ba', 
Has  ay  some  c;iuse  to  smile  ; 
And  mind  still,  you'll  tind  still, 

A  comfort  this  nae  sma'; 
Nae  mair  then,  we'll  care  then, 
Nae  farther  can  we  fa'. 

What  tho'  like  commoners  of  air, 
We  wander  out,  we  know  not  where, 

But  either  house  or  hall  ? 
Yet  Nature's  charms,  the  hills  and  woods, 
Tiie  sweeping  vales,  and  foaming  floods, 

Are  free  alike  to  all. 
In  days  when  daisies  deck  the  ground, 

And  blackbirds  whistle  clear, 
Wi'  honest  joy  our  hearts  will  bound, 
To  see  the  coming  year  : 

On  braes  when  we  please,  then. 

We'll  sit  an'  sowth  a  tune; 
Syne  rhyme  till't,  we'll  time  till't, 
And  sing't  when  we  hae  done. 

It's  no  in  titles  nor  in  rank  ; 

It's  no  in  wealth  like  Lon'on  bank, 

To  purchase  peace  and  rest ; 
It's  no  in  makin  uiuckle  mair: 
It's  no  in  books,  its  no  in  lair, 

To  make  us  truly  blest : 
If  Happiness  hae  not  her  seat, 

And  centre  in  the  breast;. 


burns'  ro?:Ms.  101 


\Vf  may  be  wise,  or  rich,  or  great 
But  never  can  be  blest : 
Nae  treasures,  nor  pleasures, 

Could  maUe  us  luippy  lani(  ; 
The  heart  ay's  the  part  ay 
That  makes  us  right  or  wrang. 


Think  ye,  that  sic  as  you  and  I, 

Wha  drudge  and  drive  through  wet  and  dry, 

Wi'  never-ceasing  toil ; 
Think  ye,  are  we  less  blest  than  the}-, 
Wha  scarcely  tent  us  in  their  way,  " 

As  hardly  worth  their  while  ? 

Alas  !  how  aft  in  haughty  mood, 

God's  creatures  they  oppress  ! 

Or  else,  negiecaaij;-  a'  that's  gude, 

They  riot  in  excess  ! 

Baith  careless,  and  fearless 
01'  either  heav'n  or  hell ; 
Esteeming  and  deeming 
It's  a'  an  idle  tale ! 


Then  let  us  cheerfu'  acquiesce, 
Nor  make  our  scanty  pleasures  less, 

By  pining  at  our  state  ; 
And,  even  should  misfortunes  come, 
I,  here  wha  sit,  hae  met  wi'  some, 

An's  thankfu'  for  them  yet. 
They  gie  the  wit  o'  age  to  youth  ; 

They  let  us  ken  oursol  ; 
They  make  us  see  the  naked  trutli, 
The  real  guid  and  ill. 
Tho'  losses  and  crosses 

Be  lessons  right  severe, 
There's  wit  there,  ye'll  get  there, 
Ye'll  find  nae  ither  whtire. 


10-2  BUU.NS'     I'OKMS. 

But  tent  ine,  Da\-ie,  ace  o'  hearts, 

(To  say  au^ht  less  wad  wrang  the  cartes, 

Andflat'ry  I  detest), 
Tliis  life  has  joys  for  you  and  I, 
And  joys  tiiat  riches  ne'er  could  buy, 

And  joys  the  very  best. 
There's  a'  the  pleasures  o'  tJie  heart, 

Tlie  lover  and  the  frien'  ; 
Ye  hae  your  Mep,  your  dearest  part, 
And  i  my  dariing  Jean  : 
It  warms  me,  it  charms  me, 

To  mention  but  her  7ia/ne : 
It  heats  me,  it  beets  me, 
And  sets  me  a'  on  flame. 

O,  all  ye  Pow'rs,  who  rule  above ! 
O,  Thou,  whose  very  self  art  Love-' 
TIiou  know'st  my  words  sincere  I 
The  life-blood  streaming  thro'  my  heart. 
Or  my  more  dear  immortal  part, 

Is  not  more  fondly  dear! 
When  heart-corrodins  care  and  giief 

Deprive  my  soul  of  rest. 
Her  dear  idea  brings  relief, 
And  solace  to  my  breast. 
Thou  Beinrj,  all-seeing, 

O  hear  my  fervent  pray'r! 
Still  take  her,  and  make  her 
Thy  most  peculiar  care ! 

All  hail,  ye  tender  feelinirs  dear! 
The  smile  of  love,  the  friendly  tear. 

The  sympathetic  glow  ; 
Long  since  this  world's  thorny  ways 
Had  number'd  out  my  weary  day:-. 

Had  it  not  been  for  you  I 
Fate  still  has  blest  me  with  a  friem!, 

In  every  care  and  ill : 


BUllNS'    POKMS.  103 

And  oft  a  more  endearing  band, 
A  tie  more  tender  still. 
It  lightens,  it  bri;ilitens, 

The  tonel)rifie  scene, 
To  meet  with,  and  greet  with 
My  Davie  or  my  Jean. 

O,  how  that  name  inspires  my  sty'e ! 
The  words  come  skelpin  rank  and*  tile, 

Amaist  before  I  ken  ! 
The  ready  measure  rins  as  fine 
As  Phoebus  and  the  famous  Nine 

Were  glowriu  owre  my  pen. 
My  spaviet  Pegasus  will  limp, 

Till  ance  he's  fairly  het ; 
And  then  he'll  liilch,  and  stilt,  and  jimp, 
An  rin  an  unco  lit ; 
But  lest  then,  the  beast  then, 
Should  rue  this  hasty  ride, 
I'll  li;,^ht  now,  and  dight  now, 
His  sweaty  wizen'd  hide. 


THE   LAMENT, 

OCCASIONBD  BY  THK   Uyfc'OUTUJf  ATE  ISSUE  OF  A   miKNU'S 


Alas!  Jiow  oft  does  Goodness  wound  itself! 
And  sweet  Affection  prove  the  spring  of  wo. 

Ilunif, 


O  Thou  pale  orb,  that  silent  shines, 
While  care-untroubled  mortals  sleep  ! 

Thou  see'st  a  wretch  tliat  inly  pines, 
And  wanders  here  to  wail  and  weep  ! 


104  burns'  poems. 

With  wo  I  nightly  vi-jils  keep, 
Beneath  tljy  wan,  unwarniing  heani, 

And  mourn,  in  lamentation  deep. 
How  life  and  love  are  all  a  dream. 

I  joyless  view  thy  rays  adorn 

The  faintly-marked  distant  hill ; 
I  joyless  view  thy  trembling  horn 

Reflected  in  tile  gurgling  rill ; 
My  fondly-fluttering  heart,  be  still  ! 

Thou  busy  power,  Remembrance,  cefise  ! 
Ah  !  must  the  agonizing  thrill 

For  ever  bar  returning  peace  ! 

No  idly-feign'd  poetic  pains, 

My  sad,  love-lorn  lamenting  claim  , 
No  shepherd's  pipe— Arcadian  strains  ; 

No  fabled  tortures,  quaint  and  tame  ; 
The  plighted  faith  ;  the  mutual  flame ; 

The  oft-attested  Powers  above; 
The  promised  Father'' s  tender  name ; 

These  were  the  pledges  of  my  love  ! 

Encircled  in  her  clas])ing  arms, 

How  have  the  raptured  moments  flown  ! 
How  have  I  wisli'd  for  fortune's  charms, 

For  her  dear  sake,  and  her's  alone  ! 
And  must  I  think  it!  is  she  gone? 

My  sacred  heart's  exulting  boast  I 
And  does  she  heedless  hear  ray  groan  ? 

And  is  she  ever,  ever  lost? 

O  !  can  she  bear  so  base  a  heart, 
So  lost  to  honour,  lost  to  truth. 

As  from  the  fondest  lover  part. 
The  plighted  husband  of  her  youtli  f 

Alas  !  life's  path  may  be  unsmooth  ! 

Her  way  may  lie  through  rough  distress! 


burns'  poems.  103 

Thpn  who  her  pan^is  and  pains  will  sooth. 
Her  sorrows  share,  and  make  them  less  ! 

Ye  winaed  hours  that  o'er  us  past, 

Enr;iptur'd  more,  the  more  enjoy'd, 
Your  dear  remeinbranfc  in  my  breast, 

My  ibiuUy-treasur'd  thou^'lits  employ'd. 
That  breast,  how  dreary  now,  anrl  void, 

For  her  too  scanty  once  of  room  ! 
Ev'n  every  ray  of  liope  destroy'd, 

And  not  a  loisJi  to  gild  the  -^loom ! 

The  morn  tliat  warms  th'  approaching  day, 

Awakes  me  up  to  toil  and  wo  : 
I  see  tlie  hours  in  lon<;  array. 

That  I  must  suffer,  lingeriii'j:,  slow. 
Full  many  a  pang  and  many  a  throe, 

Keen  Recollection's  direful  train, 
Must  wring  my  soul,  ere  Phoebus,  low, 

Shall  kiss  the  distant  western  main. 

And  when  my  nightly  couch  I  try, 

Sore  harass'd  out  with  care  and  grief, 
My  toil-beat  nerves,  and  tear-worn  eye. 

Keep  watchings  witli  the  nightly  thief: 
Or,  if  I  slumber,  Fancy,  chief, 

Reigns  haggard-wihi,  in  sore  affright : 
Even  day,  all  bitter,  brings  relief, 

From  such  a  horror- breathing  niglit. 

O  thou  bright  queen,  who  o'er  the  expanse. 

Now  highest  reign'st,  with  boundlessi  sway  : 
Oft  has  tiiy  silent-marking  glance 

Observ'd  us,  fondly,  wand'ring,  stray  ; 
The  time,  unheeds-'d,  sped  away. 

While  Love's  luxurious  pulse  beat  high. 
Beneath  tliy  silver-gleaming  ray. 

To  mark  thy  mutual  kindling  eye. 


lOG  IJTJHNS'    rOEMS. 

Oh  !  scenes  in  strong  remeinhraiice  set ! 

Scenes,  never,  never  to  return  j 
Scenes,  if  in  stupor  I  forget, 

Again  I  feel,  again  I  burn ! 
From  every  joy  and  pleasure  torn, 

Life's  weary  vale  I'll  wander  through  ; 
And  hopeless,  comfortless,  I'll  mourn 

A  faithless  woman's  broken  vow. 


DESPONDENCY. 


Oppress'd  with  grief,  oppress'd  with  euro, 
A  burden  more  than  I  can  bear, 

I  set  me  down  and  sigh  : 
O  life  !  thou  art  a  galling  load, 
Along  a  rouuh,  a  weary  road, 

To  wretches  such  as  I ! 
Dim  backward  as  1  cast  my  view, 

What  siek'ning  scenes  appear! 
What  sorrows  yet  may  pierce  me  through, 
Too  justly  I  may  fear  ! 
Still  caring,  despairing, 

Must  be  n>y  bitter  doom  ; 
My  woes  here  shall  close  ne'er. 
But  with  the  closing  tomb !    - 

Happy,  ye  sons  of  busy  life, 
Who,  equal  to  the  bustling  strife, 

No  otlier  view  regard  ; 
Even  wlien  the  wished  encVs  denied, 
Yet  while  the  busy  means  are  plied, 

They  bring  their  own  reward  : 
Whilst  I,  a  hope-abandon'd  wigiit, 

Unfitted  with  an  «i/n, 


burns'  pokms.  107 


Meet  every  sad  returning  night, 
And  joylfss  morn  the  same. 
Yon,  hustling:,  ;ind  justlinir, 

Forget  each  grief  and  pain 
I  listless,  yet  restless, 
Find  every  prospect  vain. 


I  low  blest  the  Solitary's  lot. 
Who,  all-forgetting:,  all  forgot 

Within  his  humble  cell. 
The  cavern  wild,  with  tangling  root', 
Sits  o'er  his  newiy-g.ather'd  fruits. 

Beside  his  crystal  well! 
Or,  haply,  to  his  evening  thought. 

By  unfrequented  stream. 
The  ways  of  men  are  distant  brought, 
A  faint  collected  dream  ; 
While  praising,  and  raising 

His  thoughts  to  heaven  on  high, 
As  wand'ring,  meand'ring, 
He  views  the  solemn  skv. 


Than  I,  no  lonely  hermit  plac'd, 
Where  never  liuman  footstep  traeM, 

Less  fit  to  play  the  part ; 
The  lucky  mmiient  to  improve, 
AvAjiist  to  stop,  and  jn^it  to  move. 

With  self-respecting  art ; 
But,  all !  those  pleasures,  loves,  and  joys, 

W^hich  I  too  keenly  taste, 
The  Soiitanj  can  despise. 
Can  want,  and  yet  be  blest! 
He  needs  not,  he  heeds  not 

Or  human  love  or  hate, 
Whilst  I  here,  must  cry  liere 
At  perfidy  ingrate  ! 


108  burns'  poems. 

Oh  I  enviablp,  early  days, 

When  dancinjj:  thou^litless  pleasure's  maze, 

To  care,  to  ^iiilt,  unknown  ! 
How  ill  exclianir'd  for  riper  times, 
To  feel  the  ibllies  or  tlie  ciimes, 

Of  others,  or  my  own  ! 
Ye  tiny  elves  that  irnilrl(^<s  sport 

Like  linnets  in  tlie  inisli. 
Ye  little  know  the  ills  ye  court, 
When  manliood  is  your  wish  ! 
The  losses,  the  crosses, 

Tliat  active  man  engage ! 
The  fears  all,  the  tears  all, 
Of  dim-decliruDg  age. 


\\  INTER. 


The  wintry  west  extends  his  blast. 

And  hail  and  rain  does  hlaw  ; 
Or  the  stormy  north  sends  driving  forth 

The  blinding  sleet  and  snaw  : 
While  tumbling  brown,  the  burn  comes  down 

And  roars  frae  bank  to  brae ; 
And  bird  and  beast  in  covert  rest, 

And  pass  the  heartless  day. 

*  The  sweeping  blast,  the  sky  o'ercast,** 

The  joyless  winter-day 
Let  others  fear,  to  me  more  dear 

Than  all  the  pride  of  May  : 
The  tempest's  howl,  it  sooths  my  soul. 

My  griefs  it  see)ns  to  join  : 


Dr.  Yoinig. 


ULU.NS'    POiO.MS.  109 

Tli*^  l«;ifless  treos  my  fancy  pleuM*, 
Their  fate  resembles  mine. 

Thou  Potrer  Supreme,  whose  miglity  scheme 

Tliese  woes  of  mine  fulfil, 
Here,  tiriu,  I  rest,  thev  must  be  best, 

Becausij  tliev  are  t/u/  Will ! 
Then  all  I  want,  (O,  do  thou  grant 

Tills  one  r.  qufst  of  mine  I) 
Since  to  enjoj/  Tiiou  must  (h;ny, 

As-^ist  uie  to  risicjii. 


THE 

COTTER'S    SATURDAY    NIGHT. 

IXSCKIBEi)    TO    K.    AITKEN,    ESQ, 


Let  not  ambition  mock  their  useful  toil, 
Their  homely  joys,  and  destiny  obscure; 

Nor  grandeur  liear,  witli  a  disdainful  smiie, 
The  short  but  simple  annals  of  tiie  poor. — Qray, 


My  lov'd,  my  honour'd,  much-respected  friend! 

No  mercenary  I)ard  his  iionuige  pays; 
With  honest  pride,  I  scorn  each  selfish  end, 

My  dearest  meid,  a  friend's  esteem  and  praise  ; 
To  you  I  sing,  in  simple  Scottish  lays, 

The  lowly  train  in  life's  sequester'd  scene  : 
Tlie  native  feelings  strong,  the  guileless  ways, 

What  Aitken  in  a  coitaue  would  have  been  ; 
Ah  !  thouirh  his  worth  unknown,  far  happier  there, 
wten  I 


110  in  U.N s'   roi:MS 

November  diill  blaws  loud  wi'  aiicjry  suixh  ; 

The  shortening  winter-day  is  near  a  close  ; 
Tlie  miry  beasts  retreatin;,'  frae  the  pleu^xh  ; 

The  blackening  train  o'  craws  to  their  repo>e  : 
The  toil-worn  Cotter  frae  his  labour  goes, 

TJih  n'Kjht  his  weekly  moil  is  at  an  end, 
Collects  his  spades,  his  mattocks,  and  his  hoes, 

Moping  the  morn  in  ease  and  rest  to  spend. 
And  weary,  o'er  the  muir,  his  course  does  hauieward 
bend. 

At  length  his  lonely  cot  appears  in  view, 

Beneath  the  shelter  of  an  aged  tree  ; 
Th'  expectant  tcee-thhifls,  todlin,  stacher  thronuh 

To  meet  their  Dad,  wi'  flitcherin  noise  and  ghc 
His  wee-bit  ingle,  blinkin  bonnilie, 

His  clean  heartlistane,  his  thrifty  icijie's  sniil.'. 
The  lisping  infant  prattling  on  his  "knee, 

Does  a'  his  weary  carking  cares  beguile, 
And  makes  him  quite  forget  his  labour  and  his  toil. 

Belyve  the  elder  bairns  come  drapping  in. 

At  service  out  amang  the  farmers  roun'; 
Some  ca'  the  pleutih,  some  herd,  some  tentie  rin 

A  cannie  errand  to  a  ueebor  town : 
Their  eldest  hope,  their  Jenni/,  woman  grown. 

In  youthfu'  bloom,  love  sparklin  in  her  ee, 
Comes  hame,  perhaps,  to  show  a  braw  new  gov.n, 

Or  deposite  her  sair-worn  penny  fee. 
To  help  her  parents  dear,  if  they  in  hardship  be. 

Wi'  joy  unfeiirn'd  brothers  and  sisters  meet. 
And  each  for  other's  weelfare  kindly  spiers  : 

The  social  hours,  swift- wing'd,  unnotic'd  fleet; 
Each  tells  the  uncos  that  he  sees  or  hears  ; 

The  parents,  pairtial,  ee  their  hopefu'  years: 
Anticipation  forward  pohits  the  view: 


BUttiNS      POK.M.S.  1  1  I 

Tlie  M(jt}ier,  wi'  ber  neerile  and  her  siieers, 

Gars  auld  claes  look  ainaist  as  weel's  the  new  ; 
Tlie  Father  mixes  a'  wi'  admonition  due. 

Their  master's  and  tlieir  mistress's  command 

The  younkers  a'  are  warned  to  obey  ; 
And  mind  their  labours  wi'  an  eydent.  band, 

And  ne'er,  though  out  o'  siirht,  to  jauk  and  jtliiy; 
*  And  O  !  be  sure  to  fear  the  Loud  alway  ! 

And  mind  your  duty  duly  morn  and  nii,'ht ! 
Lest  in  temjjtation's  path  ye  cang^  astray, 

Implore  his  counsel  aid  assisting^  might : 
They  never   sought  in  vain  that   sought  the  Louc 
aright.' 

But,  hark  I  a  rap  comes  gently  to  the  door, 

Jenny,  wha  kens  the  nieanins:  o'  the  same, 
Tells  how  a  neebor  lad  came  o'er  the  moor, 

To  do  some  errands,  and  convoy  her  hame. 
The  wily  mother  sees  the  concious  flame 

Sparkle  in  Jenny's  ce,  and  flu^sh  her  cheek : 
With  heart-struck  anxious  care  inquires  bis  name, 

While  Jenny  hatHiiis  is  afraid  to  sp-^ak  : 
Weel-pleas'd  tlie  mother  hears  it's  nae  wiid  worthless 
rake. 

Wi'  kindly  welcome  Jenny  brings  him  ben : 

A  strapjpan  youth  ;  he  taks  the  mothers  eye  : 
iJiithe  Jenny  sees  the   visit's  no  ill-taen  ; 

The  father  cracks  o'  horses,  pleughs,  and  kye. 
Tiie  youngster's  artless  heart  o'erflows  wi' joyj 

But  blate  and  faithfu',  scarce  can  weel  behave; 
The  mother  wi'  a  woman's  wiles,  can  spy 

What  maks  the  youth  sae  bashfu'  and  sae  grave: 
Weel  pleas'd  to  think  her  bairn's  respectit  like  the  lave. 

O  happy  love  !  where  love  like  this  is  found  ! 
U  heartfelt  I'aptures  !  bliss  beyond  compare  . 


112  burns'    I'OKMS. 

I've  paced  much  this  weary,  mortal  round. 
And  s;ip:c  Experience  l»ids  nie  this  declaro — 

*  If  Ileav'n  a  drau.;ht  of  lieavenly  pleasure  s}>are, 
One  cordial  in  tliis  nielanclioly  vale, 

'Tis  when  a  youthful,  loving,  modest  pair, . 
In  other's  arms  breathe  out  the  tejider  tale, 

Beneath  the  milk-white  thorn  that  scents  tiie  evening 
gale.' 

Is  there,  in  human  form,  that  bears  a  heart — 

A  wretch  !  a  villain  !  lost  to  love  and  trutli ! 
That  can,  with  studied,  sly,  ensnaring  art, 

Betray  sweet  Jenm/s  unsuspecting  youth  ? 
Curse  on  his  perjur'd  arts  !  dissembling  smooth  ! 

Are  honour,  virtue,  conscience,  all  exil'd  ? 
Is  there  no  pity,  no  relenting  ruth. 

Points  to  the  parents  fondling  o'er  their  child  ? 
Then  paints  the  ruin'd  maid,  and  their  distraction  wild  ? 

But  now  the  supper  crowns  their  simple  board, 

The  halesome;;«?Ti^cA,  chief  o'  Scotia's  food  ; 
The  soupe  their  only  Haiokie  does  afford. 

That  'yont  the  hallan  snugly  chows  her  cood  : 
The  dame  brings  forth  in  complimental  mood, 

To  grace  the  lad,  her  weel-hain'd  kebbuck,  iell, 
And  aft  he's  prest,  and  aft  he  ca's  it  gude ; 

The  frugal  Avifie,  garrulous,  will  tell. 
How  'twas  a  towmond  auld,  sin'  lint  was  i'  the  bell. 

The  cheerfu'  supper  done,  wi'  serious  face, 

They  round  the  ingle  form  a  circle  wide ; 
The  sire  turns  o'er  wi'  patriarchal  grace, 

The  big  ha'-JBible,  ance  his  father's  pride  : 
Hi*  bonnet  rev'rently  is  laid  aside, 

His  lyart  haffets  wearing  thin  and  bare  ; 
Those  strains  that  once  did  sweet  in  Zion  glide, 

He  wales  a  portion  with  judicious  care, 
And  'Let  ns  worship  God  !'  he  says,  with  solemn  air. 


burns'  roKMS.  113 

They  chant  tneir  artless  notes  in  simple  pulse  ; 

Tiiey  tune  their  hearts,  by  far  the  noblest  aim  ; 
Perpaps  D/nidci-'s  wild  warbling?  measures  rise, 

Or  plaintive  ^Lirfi/rs,  worthy  of  the  name; 
Or  noble  Elyi/i  beets  the  heav'n-ward  flame, 

The  sweetest  far  of  Scotia's  holy  lays : 
Corapar'd  wi'  these,  Italian  trills  are  tame  ; 

The  tickled  ears  no  heartfelt  raptures  raise ; 
Nae  unison  hae  they  \vi'  our  Creator's  praise. 

The  priest-like  father  reads  the  sacred  page. 

How  Abrani  was  the  friend  of  God  on  high  ; 
Or  3foses  bade  eternal  warfare  wage, 

With  Amalelis  ungracious  progeny  ! 
Or  how  the  royal  bard  did  groaning  lie 

Beneath  the" stroke  of  Heaven's  avenging  ire ; 
Or  JoVs  pathetic  plaint,  and  wailing  cry ; 

Or  rapt  Isaiah's  wild,  seraphic  fire  : 
Or  other  holy  seers  that  tune  the  sacred  lyre. 

Perhaps  the  Christian  volume  is  the  theme, 

How  guiltless  blood  for  guilty  man  was  shed  ; 
How  He,  who  bore  in  Heaven  the  second  name, 

Had  not  on  earth  whereon  to  lay  his  head  : 
How  his  first  followers  and  servants  sped. 

The  precepts  sage  they  wrote  to  many  a  land  : 
How  he,  who  lone  in  Patnios  banished, 

Saw  in  the  sun  a  miLihty  an<:el  stand  ; 
And  heard  great  Bah  Ion's  doom  pronounc'd  by 
Heaven's  command. 

Then  kneeling  down  to  Heaven's  Eternal  King 
The  saint,  thefather,  and  the  husband  prays  : 

Hope  *  springs  exulting  on  triumphant  wing,'* 
That  thus  they  all  sliall  meet  in  future  days  ; 


Pope's  Windsor  Forest. 
I 


114  burns'  i'oi::>is. 

There  ever  bask  in  uncreated  rays 

No  more  to  sigh  or  shed  tlie  bitter  tear, 

Together  hymning  their  Creator's  praise, 
In  such  society,  yet  still  more  dear  ; 

Wliile  circling  time  moves  round  in  an  eternal  sphere. 

Compar'd  with  this,  how  poor  religion's  pride, 

In  all  the  pomp  of  method,  and  of  art, 
When  men  display  to  congregations  wide, 

Devotion's  every  trrace,  except  the  heart. 
The  Power,  incens'd,  the  pageant  will  desert, 

The  pompous  strain,  the  sacerdotal  stole; 
But  haply,  in  some  cottage- far  apart. 

May  hear,  well  pleas'd,  the  language  of  the  soul ; 
And  in  his  book  of  life  the  inmates  poor  enrol. 

Then  homeward  all  take  off  their  several  way  ; 

The  youngling  cottagers  retire  to  rest ; 
The  parent  pair  their  .sec)-et  homage  pay. 

And  proffer  up  to  Heav'n  the  warm  request, 
That  He,  who  stills  the  raven's  clamorous  nest, 

And  decks  the  lily  fair  in  flowery  pride, 
Would,  in  the  way  his  wisdom  sees  the  best. 

For  them  and  for  their  little  ones  provide  ; 
But  chiefly  in  their  hearts  with  grace  divine  preside. 

From  scenes  like  these  old  Scotia's  grandeur  spriiigs 

That  makes  her  lov'd  at  home,  rever'd  a])road  : 
Princes  and  lords  are  but  the  breath  of  kings, 

'  An  honest  man's  the  noblest  work  of  God  ;' 
And  certes,  in  fair  virtue's  heavenly  roaai, 

The  cottage  leaves  the  palace  far  behind  ; 
Wliat  is  a  lordling's  pomp  ?  a  cumbrous  load, 

Disguising  oft  the  wretch  of  human  kind. 
Studied  in  arts  of  hell,  in  wickedness  retin'd  ! 

O,  Scotia!  my  dear,  my  native  soil ; 

For  whom  liiv  warmest  wish  to  IIca\en  is  r^cnt  ? 


Long  )n;»y  thy  hardy  sons  of  rustic  toil 

Be  blest  with  health,  and  peace,  and  sweet  content ! 
Anil,  O  !  Tnay  Heaven  their  simple  lives  prevent 

From  luxnry's  contagion,  weak  and  vile  ! 
Tiien,  however  crotnia  and  coronets  he  rent, 

A  virtuous  populace  may  rise  the  while. 
And  stand  a  wall  of  fire  around  their  niuch-lov'd  Lf/c. 

O  Thou  I  who  pour'd  the  patriotic  tide. 

That  streamed  throui^h  Wallace's  undaunted  heart  j 
Who  dared  to  nobly  stem  tyrannic  pride, 

Or  nobly  die,  the  second  glorious  pan, 
(The  patriot's  God  peculiarly  thou  art, 

His  friend,  inspirer,  guardian,  and  reward!) 
O  never,  never  Scot'ui's  realm  desert ; 

But  still  the  patriot,  and  the  pal  riot  bard, 
In  bright  succession  raise,  her  ornament  and  g(i:2  /'     ^ 


MAN  WAS  MADE  TO  MOURX. 

A    DIRGE. 

When  chill  November's  surly  blast 

Made  fields  and  forests  bare, 
One  evening  as  I  wander'd  forth 

Along  the  banks  of  Ai/r, 
I  spy'd  a  man,  whose  aged  step 

Se'iem'd  weai-y,  worn  with  care ; 
His  face  was  furrow'd  o'er  with  year?., 

And  hoary  was  his  hair. 

Young  stranger,  whither  wauderest  thou? 

Began  the  reverend  sage  ; 
Does  thirst  of  wealth  thy  step  constrain. 

Or  youthful  pleasure's  rage  ? 


116  BI'IINS'    I'OKMa. 

Or,  haply,  prest  with  care  and  wi  es, 

To  soon  tlioii  liast  be<,^an 
To  wander  forth,  witli  me,  to  mourn 

The  miseries  of  man  ! 

Tiie  sun  tliat  overlianfrs  yon  moors, 

Out-sprtiidinpf  far  and  wide, 
Wliere  liiindreds  lal)0ur  to  support 

-v.  hauglity  lordliiiLf's  pride; 
I've  seen  yon  weary  winter  sun 

Twice  forty  times  return  ; 
And  every  time  lias  added  proof?*, 

That  man  was  made  to  mourn. 

O  man  !  while  in  thy  early  years. 

How  prodigal  of  time! 
Mis-spending  all  their  precious  hour.s, 

Thy  glorious  youthful  prime  ! 
Alternate  follies  take  the  sway  : 

Licentious  passions  burn ; 
Which  tenfold  force  gives  nature's  laws, 

That  man  was  made  to  mourn. 

Look  not  alone  on  youtliful  prime. 

Or  manhood's  active  niii-ht ; 
ilan  then  is  useful  to  his  kind, 

Supported  is  his  right : 
liut  see  him  on  tlie  edge  of  life, 

With  cares  and  sorrows  worn, 
Then  age  and  want,  oh!  ill-match'd  pair! 

Shew  man  was  made  to  mourn. 

A  few  seem  favourites  of  fate, 

In  pleasure's  lap  carest ; 
Yet  think  not  all  the  rich  and  great 

Are  likewise  truly  blest, 
But,  oh !  what  crowds  in  every  land, 

Are  wretched  and  forlorn  I 


Bril.Ns'    I'OKMS  117 


Tliro'  weary  life  this  lesson  learn, 
Tiiat  man  was  made  to  mourn. 


Many  and  sharp  the  nuin'rous  ills 

Inwoven  witli  our  frame  ! 
More  pointed  still  we  make  onrselves, 

Regret,  remorse,  and  shame  ! 
And  man,  wliose  lieav'ri-erected  face 

The  smiles  of  love  adorn, 
Man's  inliumanity  to  man, 

Makes  countless  thousands  mourn. 

See  yonder  poor,  o'erlabour'd  wight, 

So  abject,  mean,  and  vile, 
\Vlio  begs  a  brother  of  the  earth 

To  give  him  leave  to  toil ; 
And  see  his  lordly  fe/low'ivorm 

The  poor  petition  spurn, 
Unmindful,  though  a  weeping  wife, 

And  helpless  offspring,  mourn. 

If  I'm  yon  haughty  lordling's  slave, 

By  nature's  law  design'd. 
Why  was  an  independent  wish 

E'er  planted  in  my  mind  ? 
If  not,  why  am  I  suhject  to 

His  cruelty  or  scorn  ? 
Or  why  has  man  tiie  will  and  pow'r 

To  make  his  fellow  mourn  ? 


Yet  let  not  this  too  much  my  son, 
Disturb  thy  youthful  breast : 

This  partial  view  of  human  kind 
Is  surely  not  the  last. 

The  poor,  oppressed,  honest  man, 
Had  never,  sure,  been  born. 


118  IJUUNS'    I'OEMS. 

Hatl  there  not  been  BOiiie  recompense 
To  comfort  tlio^^e  that  mourn. 

O,  Death,  the  poor  man's  dearest  friend, 

The  kindest  and  the  best! 
Welcome  tlie  hour  my  aged  limbs 

Are  laid  with  thee  at  rest, 
The  jrreat,  the  wealthy,  fear  thy  blow, 

From  pomp  and  pleasure  torn  ! 
But,  oh  !  a  blf'st  relief  to  tlu)se 

That  weary-laden  mourn ! 


A  PRAYER 

IN   TIIK    PltOSPECT   OF   DEATIi. 

O  Thou  unknown,  Almighty  Cause 

Of  all  my  hope  and  fear, 
In  whose  dread  presence,  ere  an  hour, 

Perhaps  I  must  appear  I 

If  I  have  wander'd  in  those  paths 

Of  life  I  ought  to  shun  ; 
As  somethifig  loudly  in  my  breast 

Remonstrates  I  have  done ; 

Tiiou  know'st  that  thou  hast  formed  nie 
With  passions  wild  and  strong; 

And  list'ning  to  their  witching  voice 
Has  often  led  me  wrong. 

Where  human  weakness  has  come  short, 

Or  frailty  stept  aside, 
Do  thou,  All-Good,  for  such  thou  art. 

In  shades  of  darkress  hide. 


KUIINS'    POEMS.  119 

VVliere  with  intention  I  have  err'd, 

No  other  ph^a  I  have, 
Bur — Thou  art  good ;  and  goodness  still 

Delighteth  to  forgive. 


STANZAS 

ox   THE   s^AME   OCCASION. 

Why  am  I  loth  to  leave  this  earthly  scene  ? 

Have  I  so  found  it  full  of  pleasinir  charms  ? 
Some  drops  of  joy,  with  draughts  of  ill  between . 

Some  gleams  of  sunsliine  'mid  renewing  storms   i 
Is  it  departing  pangs  my  soul  alarms  ? 

Or  death's  unlovely,  dreary,  dark  abode  ? 
For  guilt,  for  guilt,  my  terrors  are  in  arms  ; 

I  tremble  to  approach  an  angry  God, 
And  justly  smart  beneath  his  sin-avenging  rod. 

Fain  would  I  say,  *  Forgive  my  foul  oflfence  !' 

Fain  promise  never  more  to  disobey  ; 
But,  should  my  Autlior  health  again  dispense, 

Again  I  might  desert  fair  virtue's  way  ; 
Again  in  folly's  path  might  go  astray  ! 

Again  exalt  the  brute,  and  sink  the  man  ; 
Then  how  should  I  for  heavenly  mercy  pray, 

Who  act  so  counter  heavenly  mercy's  plan  ? 
Who  sin  so  oft  have  mourn'd,  yet  to  temptation  ran. 

O  Thou,  great  Governor  of  all  below! 

If  I  may  dare  a  lifted  eye  to  Thee, 
Thy  nod  can  make  ihe  tempest  cease  to  blow, 

Or  still  the  tumult  of  the  raging  sea  : 
With  that  controlling  power  assist  e'en  me, 

Tiiose  headlong  furious  passions  to  confine  ; 
For  all  unfit  I  feel  my  pow'rs  to  be, 

To  rule  their  tori'ent  in  th'  allowed  line  : 
O,  aid  me  with  thy  help,  Oninipotence  Divine. 


120  lllIKN;;*    ruKMS. 


VERSES 


LF.PT    AT    A    l-RIKND'S    HOUSE,   WHERE   THE    AUTHDR 
SLEPT    ONE   MGHT. 

O  Thou  dread  Pow'r,  who  reign'st  above, 

I  know  tliou  wilt  me  hear  ; 
Wlien  for  this  scene  of  peace  and  love, 

I  make  mj'^  pray'r  sincere. 

The  hoary  sire — the  mortal  stroke, 

Long-,  long  be  pleas'd  to  spare! 
To  bless  his  little  filial  flock, 

And  show  what  good  men  are. 

She,  who  her  lovely  offspring  eyes 

With  tender  hopes  and  fears, 
O  bless  her  with  a  mother's  joys, 

But  spare  a  mother's  tears ! 

Their  hope,  their  stay,  their  darling  youth, 

In  manhood's  dawning  blush  ; 
Bless  hira,  thou  God  of  love  and  truth, 

Up  to  a  parent's  wish ! 

The  beauteous  seraph  sister-band. 

With  earnest  tears  I  pray, 
Thou  know'st  the  snares  on  every  hand. 

Guide  thou  iheir  steps  alway  ! 

When  soon  or  late  they  reach  that  coust, 

O'er  life's  rough  ocean  driven, 
May  they  rejoice,  no  wand'rer  lost, 

A  fainilv  in  heaven  I 


V.ITRNS'    I'OKMS.  I'Jl 


THE  FIRST  PSALM. 


The  man,  in  life  wherever  placed, 

Hath  happiness  in  store, 
Who  walks  not  in  the  wijked's  wuy, 

Nor  learns  the  guilty  lore  ! 

Nor  from  the  seat  of  scornful  pride. 
Casts  forth  his  eyes  ahroad, 

But  with  humility  and  awe 
Still  walks  before  his  God. 

That  man  shall  flourish  like  the  trees 

Wiiich  by  the  streamlets  grow ; 
The  fruitful  top  is  spread  on  high, 
And  firm  the  root  below. 

But  he  whose  blossom  buds  in  guilt 
Shall  to  the  ground  be  cast. 

And,  like  the  rootless  stubble,  tost 
Before  the  sweejjing  blast. 

For  why  ?  that  God  the  good  adore 
Hath  given  them  peace  and  rest, 

But  hath  decreed  tliat  wicked  men 
Shall  ne'er  be  truly  ble»t. 


A     PRAYER. 

UNDER   THE   PRESSURE   OP   VIOLENT    AN<iUlSH. 

O  Thou  Great  Being  !  what  thou  art 

Surpasses  me  to  know  : 
Yet  sure  I  am,  that  known  to  thee 

^re  all  thv  works  below. 


:  lUJUNS      POEMS. 

Tliy  creature  Iiere  he.low  thee  stands, 
All  wretched  and  distrest; 

Yet  sure  those  ills  that  wring  ray  soul 
Obey  thy  high  behest. 

Sure  thou.  Almighty,  canst  not  act 

From  cruelty  or  wratli ! 
O,  free  my  weary  eyes  from  teajs, 

Or  close  them  fast  in  death ! 

But  if  I  must  afflicted  be, 
To  suit  some  wise  design  ; 

Then  man  my  soul  with  firm  resolves 
To  bear  and  not  repine  ! 


TH  E  FIRST  SIX  VERSES  OF  THE  NINETIETH 
PSALM. 

O  Thou,  the  first,  the  greatest  fj;iend 

Of  all  the  human  race  ! 
Whose  strong  right  hand  has  ever  been 

Their  stay  and  dwelling-place. 

Before  the  mountains  heav'd  their  heads 

Beneath  thy  forming  hand, 
Before  this  pond'rous  globe  itself 

Arose  at  thy  command. 

That  pow'r  which  rais'd  and  still  upholds 

Tliis  universal  frame. 
From  countless,  unbeginning  time 

Was  ever  still  the  same. 

Those  mighty  periods  of  years 
Which  seem  to  us  so  vast, 


BUKNS'    POKMS.  123 

Appear  no  more  before  thy  sight 
Than  yesterday  that's  past.' 

Tliou  giv'st  the  word :  Thy  creature  man, 

Is  to  existence  brought : 
Agahi  thou  say'st,  *  Ye  sons  of  men, 

'  Return  ye  into  nought !' 

Thou  layest  them,  witli  all  their  carets, 

In  everlasting  sleep ; 
As  with  a  flood  thou  tak'st  them  off 

With  overwhelming  sweep. 

They  flourish  like  the  morning  flow'r, 

In  beauty's  pride  array 'd  ; 
But  long  ere  night  cut  down  it  lies 

All  wither'd  and  decay 'd. 


TO  A  MOUNTAIX  DAISY, 

ox   TURNING   ON^  »rJT   WITH  THE  PLOUGH, 

IN    APKIL,   1786. 

Wee,  modest,  crimson-tipped  flow'r, 
Thou's  met  me  in  an  evil  hour  ; 
For  I  maun  crush  amang  the  stoure 

Thy  slender  stem ; 
To  spare  thee  now  is  past  my  pow'r, 

Thou  bonnie  gem ! 

Alas  !  it's  no  thy  neebor  sweet, 
The  bonnie  Lark,  companion  meet ! 
Bending  thee  'niang  tlie  dewy  weet, 

Wi'  speckled  breast, 
When  upward-springing,  blithe,  to  greet 

The  purpling  oast. 


L'4  IMKNS      I'OKMS. 

Oauld  blew  the  bitter-biting  north 
Upon  thy  early,  humble  birth  ; 
Yet  cheerfully  thou  glinted  forth 

Amid  the  storm, 
Scarce  rear'd  above  the  parent  earth 

Thy  teuder  form. 

The  flaunting  flow'rs  our  gardens  yield, 
High  shelteriug  woods  and  wa's  maun  shield  j 
But  thou,  beneath  the  random  bield 

O'  clod  or  stane, 
Adorns  the  histie  stlbble- field, 

Unseen,  alane. 

There,  in  thy  scanty  mantle  clad, 
Thy  snawy  bosom  sun-ward  spread. 
Thou  lifts'thy  unassuming  head 

In  humble  guise: 
But  now  the  share  uptears  thy  bed, 

And  low  thou  lies  ! 

Such  is  the  fate  of  artless  Maid, 
*^weetJioiv'ret  of  the  rural  shade. 
By  love's  simplicity  betrayed, 

And  guileless  trust, 
Till  she,  like  thee,  all  soil'd,  is  laid 

Low  i'  the  dust. 

Such  is  the  fate  of  simple  Bard, 

On  life's  rough  ocean  luckless  starr'd  ! 

Unskilful  he  to  note  the  card 

Of  jyrudent  Lore, 
Till  billows  rage,  and  gales  blew  hard, 

And  whelm  him  o'er  ! 

Such  fate  to  suffering  icorth  is  given, 
Who  long  with  wants  and  woes  has  striven. 


BUUNS'    I'OK.MS.  l-ja 

By  human  pride  or  cunning  drivt>n, 

To  misery's  brink. 
Till,  wrench'd  of  every  stay  but  Heaven, 

He,  ruin'il,  sink  ! 

Ev'n  thou  who  mourn'st  the  Daisy's  fate, 
That  fate  is  thine— no  distant  date  ; 
Stern  'Ruin's  ploughshare  drives  elate, 

Full  on  thy  bloom, 
Till  crush'd  beneath  the  furrow's  weight. 

Shall  be  thy  doom. 


TO  RUIN. 

All  hail !  inrxorahle  lord 

At  whose  destruction-breathing  word 

The  mightiest  empires  fall. 
Thy  cruel,  wo-deliulited  train, 
The  ministers  of  grief  and  pain, 

A  sullen  welcome,  all ! 
With  stern-resolv'd,  despairing  eye, 

I  see  each  aimed  dart ; 
For  one  has  cut  my  dearest  tie, 
And  quivers  in  my  heart, 
Then  low'ring,  and  pouring, 

The  storm  no  more  I  dread  ; 
Tho'  thickening,  and  blackening 
Round  my  devoted  head. 

And  thou,  grim  power,  by  life  abhorr'd, 
While  life  a  pleasure  can  aiford, 

Oh  !  hear  a  wretch's  prayer  ! 
No  more  I  shrink  appall'd  afraid; 
I  court,  I  beg  thy  friendly  aid, 

To  close  tliis  scene  of  care  1 


1:26  L urns'   I'OKMS. 

When  shall  my  soul,  in  silent  peace, 

Resit^n  life's  joy /t%s-  day  ; 
My  weary  heart  in  throhbin^fs  cease, 
Cold  mouldering  in  the  clay  ? 
No  tear  more,  no  tear  more,* 

To  stain  my  lifeless  face  ; 
Enclasped,  and  grasped 
Within  thy  cold  embrace  ! 


TO  MISS  LOGAN, 

WITH  BEATTIE's  poems,  as  a  NEVv^-YEAIl'S  gift, 
JANUARY   1,   17b7. 

Again  the  silent  wheels  of  time 

Their  annual  round  have  driven. 
And  you  though  scarce  in  maiden  prime. 

Are  so  much  nearer  Heaven. 

No  gifts  have  I  from  Indian  coasts 

The  infant  year  to  hail ; 
I  send  you  more  than  India  boasts, 

In  Edivin's  simple  tale. 

Our  sex  with  guile  and  faithless  love 

Is  charged,  perhaps,  too  true  ! 
But  may,  dear  maid,  each  lover  prove 

An  JEdicin  still  to  vou  ! 


EPISTLE  TO  A  YOUNG  FRIEND. 

3Iai/ 1780. 

LANG  hae  thouglit,  my  youthfu'  friend, 
A  something  to  hae  sent  you. 


burns'  roEM.s.  127 

T!i(»'  it  slioukl  serve  nae  other  end 

Than  jusl  a  kind  memento  ; 
But  how  the  subject-theme  may  gang, 

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

Perhaps  turn  out  a  sermon. 

Jfe'll  try  the  world  soon,  my  lad, 

And,  Andrew  dear,  believe  me, 
Ye'U  find  minikind  an  unco  squad, 

And  muckle  they  may  grieve  ye  : 
For  care  and  trouble  set  your  thought, 

Even  when  your  end's  attahied  ; 
And  a'  your  views  may  come  to  nought, 

Where  every  nerve  is  strained. 

I'll  no  say  men  are  villains  a' : 

The  re;il,  harden'd  wicked, 
Wha  hae  nae  check  but  human  law. 

Are  to  a  few  restricted  : 
But,  och  !  mankind  are  unco  weak, 

And  litrle  to  be  trusted  ; 
If  A'e(/'the  wavering  balance  shake, 

It's  rarely  right  adjusted  ! 

Yet  they  who  fa'  in  fortune's  strife, 

Their  f;ite  we  should  na  censure, 
For  still  th'  ioiportant  end  o'  life 

They  equally  may  answer  : 
A  man  may  hae  an  honest  heart, 

Tho'  poortith  liourly  stare  him, 
A  man  may  tak  a  neebor's  part, 

Yet  hae  nae  cask  to  spare  him. 

Aye  free,  aff  ban'  your  story  tell, 

When  wi'  a  bosom -crony  ; 
But  still  keep  something  to  yourscl 

Ye  scarcely  tell  to  ony. 


1-28  burns'  poems. 

Conceal  yoursel  as  weel's  ye  can 

Frae  critical  dissection ; 
But  keel<  thro'  every  otlier  man 

Wi'  sharpen'd  sly 'inspection. 

The  sacred  lowe  o'  weel-plac'd  love 

Luxuriantly  indulge  it; 
But  never  tempt  th'  illicit  rove^ 

Tho'  naetliiuii  sliould  divulge  it, 
I  wave  the  quantum  o'  the  sin, 

The  hazard  of  concealing  : 
But  och?  it  liardens  a'  within, 

And  petrifles  the  feeling. 

To  catch  dame  fortune's  golden  smile, 

Assiduous  wait  upon  her ; 
And  gather  gear  by  every  wile, 

That's  justify'd  by  honour  ; 
Not  for  to  hide  it  in  a  hedge,  ■ 

Nor  for  a  train-attendant ; 
But  for  the  glorious  privilege 

Of  being  indejjendent. 

The  fear  o'  hell's  a  hangman's  whip, 

To  baud  the  wretch  in  order; 
But  where  you  feel  your  honour  grip, 

Let  that  aye  be  your  border  : 
In  slightest  touches,  instant  pause — 

Debar  a'  side  pretences  ; 
And  resolutely  keep  its  laws, 

Uncaring  consequences. 

The  great  Creator  to  revere, 
Must  sure  become  the  creature  ; 

But  still  the  preaching  cant  forbear, 
And  ev'n  the  rigid  feature  : 

Yet  ne'er  with  wits  profane  to  range. 
Be  complaisance  extended ! 


burns'  poems.  1-2U 

And  Atheist's  laugh's  a  poor  exch:iii,q;e 
For  Deity  offended  ! 

When  ranting  round  in  pleasure's  ring, 

Religion  may  be  blinded  ; 
Or  if  she  gie  a  rcvidoni  sting, 

It  may  be  little  minded  ; 
But  when  on  life  we're  terapest-driv'u 

A  conscience  but  a  canker— 
A  correspondence  fix'd  wi'  Heav'n 

Is  sure  a  noble  anchor. 

Adieu,  dear,  amiable  youth  ! 

Your  heart  can  ne'er  be  wanting : 
May  Prudence,  Fortitude,  and  Truth, 

Erect  your  brow  undaunting! 
In  ploughman-phrase,  "  God  send  you  speet!" 

Still  daily  to  grow  wiser  ; 
And  may  ye  better  reck  the  rede, 

Than  ever  did  th'  adviser. 


Ox\  A  SCOTCH  BARD, 

GONE    TO    THE    WEST    I  N  1>  1  fi  S- 

A'  ye  wlia  live  by  soups  o'  drink, 
A'  ye  wha  live  by  crambo-clink, 
A'  ye  wha  live  and  never  think, 

Come,  mourn  wi'  me  ! 
Our  MUie's  gi'en  us  a'  a  jink. 

And  owre  the  sea. 

Lament  him  a'  ye  rantin  core, 
Wha  dearly  like  a  random-splore  : 
Xae  mair  he'll  join  the  merry  roar, 

In  social  key  ; 
17  K 


130  burns'  i'okms. 

For  now  he's  ta'en  anither  shore, 
And  owre  the  seit. 


The  bonny  lasses  weel  may  wiss  Lim, 
And  in  their  dear  petitions  place  him  ; 
The  widows,  wives,  and  a'  may  bless  liim 

Wi'  tearfu'  ee  ; 
For  weel  I  wat  they'll  sairly  miss  him 

That's  owre  the  sea  ! 

O  Fortune,  they  hae  room  to  grumble  ; 
Hadst  thou  ta'en  aff  some  drousy  bummle 
Wha  can  do  nou<?ht  but  fyke  and  fumbU-, 

"Twad  been  nae  plea ; 
But  he  was  gleg  as  ony  wumble, 

That's  owre  the  sea  ! 

Auld,  cantie  Kyle  may  weepers  wear, 
And  stain  them  wi'  the  saut,  saut  tenr  ; 
'Twill  mak  her  poor  auld  heart,  I  fear, 

In  flinders  flee ; 
He  was  her  laureate  mony  a  year, 

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! 
So,  took  a  birth  afore "^the  mast, 

And  owre  tlie  sea! 

To  tremble  under  Fortune's  cummookj. 
Or  sarce  a  bellyfu'  o'  drummock, 
Wi'  his  proud  independent  stomach. 

Could  ill  agree. 
So  row't  his  hurdies  in  a  hanunock, 

And  owre  the  sea. 


BURKS      POEMS.  I;n 

He  ne'er  was  gi'en  to  grear  niisjruidiriir, 
Yet  coin  his  pouches  wad  nac  hide  in  ; 
VVi'  him  it  ne'er  was  under  hiding  ; 

He  dealt  it  free  : 
The  Muse  was  a'  tliat  he  took  pride  in, 

That's  owre  the  sea. 

Jamaica  bodies,  use  liim  weel, 
And  hap  him  in  a  cozie  biel ; 
Ye'll  find  him  aye  a  dainty  chiel, 

And  fu'  o'  glee  ! 
He  wad  na  wrany:'d  the  vera  deil, 

That's  owre  the  sea. 

Farewell,  my  rJnj me- composing  hillie  ! 
Your  native  soil  was  riLfht  ill-willie  ; 
But  may  ye  flourish  hke  a  lily. 

Now  bonnilie ! 
I'll  toast  ye  in  my  hindmost  gillie, 

Tlio'  owre  the  sea. 


TO  A  HAGGIS. 

Fair  fa'  your  honest,  sonsie  face, 
Great  chieftain  o'  the  pudding  race  ! 
Aboon  them  a'  ye  tak  your  place, 

Painch,  tripe,  or  thairm  . 
Weel  are  ye  wordy  of  a  grace 

As  lang's  my  arm. 

The  groaning  trencher  there  ye  fill, 
Your  hurdles  like  a  distant  hill. 
Your  pin  wad  help  to  mend  a  mill 

In  time  o'  need. 
While  thro'  your  pores  the  dews  distil 

Like  amber  bead. 


132  BURN  8'     POEMS. 

His  knife  see  rustic  labour  dijxlit, 
And  cut  you  up  wi'  ready  sleijj:ht, 
Trenching  your  {ru9hin<jc  entrails  bright 

Like  ony  ditch ; 
And  then,  O  wliat  a  glorious  sight, 

Warm-reekin,  rich. 

Then  horn  for  liorn  they  stretch  and  strive, 
Deil  tak  the  hindmost,  on  they  drive, 
Till  a'  their  weel-swall'd  kytes,  belyve, 

And  bent  like  drums  ; 
Then  auld  gudeman,  niaist  like  to  rive, 

Bethankit  hums. 

Is  there  that  o'er  his  French  ragout, 
Or  olio  that  wad  staw  a  sow, 
Or  fricassee  wad  rnak  her  spew 

Wi'  perfect  sconner, 
Looki  down  wi'  sneering,  scornfu'  view, 

On  sic  a  dinner  ? 

Poor  devil !  see  him  owre  his  trash, 

As  feckless  as  a  wither'd  rash, 

His  spindle-shank  a  guid  whip-lash. 

His  neive  a  nit ; 
Thro'  bloody  flood  or  field  to  dash, 

O  how  unfit! 

But  mark  the  rustic,  haggis-fed, 

The  trembling  earth  resounds  his  tread, 

Clap  in  his  walie  nieve  a  blade, 

He'll  mak  it  whissle ; 
And  legs,  and  arms,  and  heads  will  swt-A, 

Like  taps  o'  thrissle. 

Ye  powers,  wha  mak  mankind  your  care, 
Jnd  dish  them  out  thfir  bill  o'  fare, 


BURNS      I'OKMS.  133 

Anld  Scotland  wants  nae  skinklincj  ware 

That  jaups  in  liijjL'ics  ; 
But,  if  ye  wish  her  gratefii'  pray'r, 

Gie  her  a  Haggis ! 


A  DEDICATION 

TO    GAVIN    HAMILTON,     ESQ. 

Expect  na,  sir,  in  this  narration, 
A  fleeciiin,  fletii'rin  dedication, 
To  roose  you  up,  and  ca'  you  ,uuid, 
And  sprunpr  o'  great  and  noble  bluin, 
Because  ye're  sirnanied  like  his  Grace, 
Periiaps  related  to  tlie  race  ; 
Tiien  when  I'm  tird— and  sae  are  ye 
Wi'  raony  a  fulsome  sinfu'  lie. 
Set  up  a' face,  how  I  stop  short. 
For  fear  your  modesty  be  hurt. 

This  may  do— maun  do,  sir,  wi'  them  wha 
May  please  the  great  iblk  for  a  wamefou  ; 
For  me  !  sae  laigb  I  neediia  bow. 
For,  Lord  be  thankit !  /  can  pleugh  ' 
And  ,when  I  downa  yoke  a  naig, 
Then,  Lord  be  tluuikit'  I  can  beg! 
Sae  I  siiall  say,  and  tliat's  nae  flatterin. 
Its  just  sic  poet,  and  sic  patron.  ^ 

The  Poet,  some  guid  angel  Ijelp  liim  ! 
Or  else,  I  fear,  some  ill  aiie  skelp  him; 
He  may  do  weel  for  a'  he's  done  yet, 
But  only  he's  no  just  begun  yet. 

The  Patron  (sir,  ye  maun  forgie  me, 
I  winna  lie,  come  \\  hat  will  o'  me), 
On  ev'ry  hand  it  will  allow'd  be, 
He's  just— nae  better  than  he  should  be. 


134  BUKxN's'    POKIIS. 

I  readily  and  freely  grant, 
He  downa  see  a  poor  man  want ; 
What's  no  Iiis  ain  lie  wiiina  tak  it, 
What  ance  he  says  he  wiiina  break  it ; 
Ought  he  can  lend  he'll  no  refus't, 
Till  aft  his  guidness  is  abused  ; 
And  rascals  whyles  that  do  him  wrang, 
Ev'n  that,  he  does  na  mind  it  lans  : 
As  master,  landlord,  husband,  father. 
He  does  na  fail  his  part  in  either. 

But  then,  nae  thanks  to  him  for  a'  that ; 
Nae  (jodhj  syniptoni  ye  can  ca'  that , 
It's  naething  but  a  milder  feature 
Of  our  poor  sintu'  corrupt  nature  : 
Ye'U  get  the  best  of  moral  works, 
'Mang  black  Gentoos  and  pagan  Turks, 
Or  hunters  wild  on  Ponotaxi, 
Wha  never  heard  of  orthodoxy. 
That  he's  the  poor  man's  friend  in  need, 
The  gentleman  in  word  and  deed. 
It's  no  thro'  terror  oi  d-mn-ti-n  ; 
It's  just  a  carnal  inclination. 

Morality,  thou  deadly  bane. 
Thy  tens  o'  thousands  thou  hast  slain  ; 
Vain  is  his  hope,  whose  stay  and  trust  is 
In  moral  mercy,  truth,  and  justice! 

No — stretch  a  point  to  catch  a  plack ; 
Abuse  a  brother  to  liis  back  ; 
Steal  thro'  a  witmock  frae  a  wh-re, 
But  point  the  rake  that  taks  the  door  ; 
Be  to  the  poor  like  ony  whunstane, 
And  baud  their  noses  to  the  gruustane; 
Ply  ev'ry  art  o'  legal  thieving  ; 
No  matter,  stick  to  sou7id  bcliev'mg. 

Learn  three-mile  pray'rs  and  half-mile  graces, 
Wi'  weel-spread  loove^,  and  lang  wry  faces  ; 


UUKNS      POKMS.  135 

Grunt  up  a  solemn  lenytlien'd  groan, 
And  daniu  a'  parties  but  your  own  ; 
I'll  warrant  tlieri,  ye're  na  deceiver, 
A  steady,  sturdy,  staunch  believer. 

O  ye  w'lia  leave  the  springs  o'  Calvin, 
For  guinlle  dubs  o'  your  ain  delvin  I 
Ye  sons  of  heresy  and  error, 
Ye'll  some  day  squeel  in  quaking  terror ! 
When  Vengeance  draws  the  sword  in  wrath, 
And  in  the  fire  throws  the  sheath  ; 
When  Ruin,  witli  his  sweeping  besom, 
Just  frets  till  Iloav'n  commission  gies  him  : 
While  o'er  the  harp  pale  Mis'ry  moans, 
And  strikes  the  ever-deepening  tones. 
Still  louder  shrieks,  and  heavier  groans  ! 

Your  pardon,  sir,  for  this  digression, 
I  maist  forgat  ray  dedication  ; 
But  when  divinity  comes  cross  me, 
My  readers  still  are  sure  to  lose  me. 

So,  sir,  ye  see,  'twas  nae  daft  vapour ; 
But  I  maturely  thought  it  proper, 
When  a'  my  works  I  did  review. 
To  dedicate  tliem,  sir,  to  You: 
Because  (ye  need  na  tak  it  ill) 
I  thought  them  something  like  yoursel'. 

Then  patronize  them  wi'  your  favour, 

And  your  petitioner  shall  ever 

I  had  amaist  said,  ever  pray, 

But  that's  a  word  I  need  na  say  : 

For  praying  I  hae  little  skill  o't ; 

I'm  baith  dead-sweer,  and  wretched  ill  o't; 

But  I'se  repeat  each  poor  man's  pray'r, 

Tliat  kens  or  hears  about  you,  sir 


130  burns'   poems. 

"  INIay  ne'er  Misfortune's  (rrowlln  bark 
Howl  tliro'  tlie  dwelling;  o'  tiie  Clerk. 
May  ne'er  liis  gen'rous  lionest  heart, 
For  that  same  gen'rous  spirit  smart ! 
May  Kennedy's  far-honour'd  name 
Lang  beet  liis  liymeneal  flame, 
Till  Hamiltons,  at  least  a  dizen, 
Are  fVae  their  nuptial  labours  risen  : 
Five  bonny  lasses  round  their  table, 
And  seven  braw  lellows,  stout  and  able 
To  serve  their  king  and  country  weel, 
By  word,  or  pen,  or  pointed  steel ! 
May  health  and  peace,  wi'  mutual  rays, 
Shine  on  the  ev'ning  o'  his  days ; 
Till  his  wee  curlie  JoJm's  ier-oe, 
When  ebbing  life  nae  raair  shall  flow. 
The  last,  sad,  mournful  rites  bestow  !" 


I  will  not  wind  a  lang  conclusion, 
Wi'  complimentary  etfusion ; 
But  whilst  your  wishes  and  endeavours 
Are  blest  wi'  fortune's  smiles  and  favours, 
I  am,  dear  sir,  with  zeal  most  fervent, 
Your  much  indebted,  humble  servant. 

But  if  (which  Pow'rs  above  prevent !) 
That  iron-hearted  carl,  Want, 
Attended  in  his  grim  advances. 
By  sad  mistakes,  and  black  mischances. 
While  hopes,  and  joys,  and  pleasures  fly  him. 
Make  you  as  poor  a  dog  as  I  am. 
Your  ImnMe  servant  then  no  more  ; 
For  who  would  humbly  serve  the  poor ! 
But,  by  a  poor  man's  hopes  in  Heaven  ! 
While  recollection's  power  is  given, 
If,  in  the  vale  of  humble  life, 
T'le  victim  sad  of  fortune's  strife. 


BUIINS'    POEMS.  I.'J7 

I,  thro  the  tender  irushino;  tear, 

Should  recognize  my  master  dear, 

If  friendless,  low,  we  meet  thetiither, 

Then,  sir,  your  hand — ray  friend  and  brother. 


TO  A  LOUSE, 

ON  SEEING  ONE  ON   A.  LADY'S  BONNET  AT  CHURu'W. 

Ha  !  whare  ye  paun,  ye  crawlin  ferlie  ! 
Your  impudence  protects  you  sairly  ; 
I  canna  say  but  ye  strunt  rarely. 

Owre  irauze  and  lace  ; 
The'  faith,  I  fear  ye  dine  but  sparely 

On  sic  a  place. 

Ye  ugly,  creepin,  blastit  wonner, 
Detested,  shuini'd  by  saunt  and  sinner, 
How  dare  you  set  your  fit  upon  her, 

Sae  fine  a  lady  ! 
Gae  somewhere  else  and  seek  your  dinner 

On  some  poor  body. 

Swith,  in  some  beggar's  haffet  squattle  ! 
There  ye  creep,  and  sprawl,  and  sprattle 
Wi'  ither  kindred  jumpin  cattle. 

In  slioais  and  nations  ; 
Whare  horn  nor  bane  ne'er  dare  unsettle 

Your  thick  plantations. 

Now  haud  you  there,  ye're  out  o'  sight. 
Below  the  fatt'rills,  snug  and  tight ; 
Na,  faith  ye  yet!  ye'll  no  be  right 

Till  ye've  got  on  it, 
The  vera  tapmost,  tow'ring  height 

O*  Miss's  bonnet. 


r:38  bukns'   I'okms. 

My  sooth  I  ii<rht  bauld  ye  set  your  nose  out; 
As  plump  and  trray  as  oiiy  grozet ; 

0  for  some  rank  mercurial  rozet, 

Or  fell,  red  smeddum, 
I'd  gie  you  sic  a  hearty  doze  o't, 

Wad  dress  your  droddum ! 

1  wad  na  been  surprised  to  spy 
You  on  an  auld  wife's  flannen  toy  ; 
Or  aiblins  some  bit  duddie  boy, 

Oil's  wyliecoat ; 
But  Miss's  fine  Lunar dl ;  fie, 

How  dare  you  do't ! 

O,  Jenny,  dinna  toss  your  head, 
And  set  your  beauties  a'  a  bread  ! 
Ye  little'ken  what  cursed  speed 

The  blastie's  makin ! 
Thae  winks  and  fnger-ends,  I  dread, 

Are  notice  lakinl 


O  wad  some  pow'r  the  giftie  gie  us 
To  see  oursels  as  others  see  us ; 
It  wad  frae  raonie  a  blunder  free  its 

And  foolish  notion  : 
What  airs  in  dress  and  gait  wad  lea'e  us, 

And  ev'n  Devotion ! 


ADDRESS  TO  EDINBURGH. 

Edixa  !  Scotia's  darling  seat ! 

All  hail  thy  palaces  and  tow'rs, 
Where  once  beneath  a  monarch's  feet 

Sit  legislation's  sov'reign  pow'rs  ! 


Bi:uNs'   roE.MS.  l:j'J 

From  markini;  wildly-sciitter'd  flow'rs, 

As  on  the  banks  of  Ayr  I  stray  d, 
And  singincT,  lone,  tlie  ling'ring  hours, 

I  shelter  in  thy  honour'd  shade. 

Here  wealth  still  swells  the  golden  tide. 

As  busy  trade  his  labours  plies  ; 
There  architecture's  noble  pride 

Bids  elegance  and  splendour  rise  ; 
Here  justice,  from  her  native  skies, 

High  wields  her  balance  and  her  rod  ; 
There  learning,  witli  his  eagle  eyes, 

Seeks  science  in  her  coy  abode. 

Thy  sons,  Edina,  social,  kind, 

With  open  arms  the  stranger  hail ; 
Tlieir  views  enlarg'd,  their  lib'ral  mind, 

Above  the  narrow  rural  vale ; 
Attentive  still  to  sorrow's  wail, 

Or  modest  merit's  silent  claim  ; 
And  never  may  their  sources  fail ! 

And  never  envy  blot  their  name  ! 

Thy  daughters  bright  thy  walks  adorn! 

Gay  as  the  gilded  summer  sky. 
Sweet  as  the  dewy  milk-white  thorn, 

Dear  as  the  raptur'd  thrill  of  joy  ! 
Fair  Burnet  strikes  th'  adoring  eye, 

Heaven's  beauties  on  my  fancy  shine; 
I  see  the  aire  of  love  on  hl(ih. 

And  own  his  work  indeed  divine. 

There,  watching  high  the  least  alarms, 
Thy  rougl)  rude  fortress  gleams  afar  ; 

Like  some  bold  vet'ran,  gniy  in  arms, 
And  mark'd  with  many  a  seamy  scar ; 

Tlie  pond'rous  wall  and  massy  bar. 
Grim-rising  o'er  the  rugged  rock. 


140  burns'  poems. 

Have  oft  withstood  assailinjsr  war, 
And  oft  repell'd  tli'  invader's  shock. 

With  awe-struck  thoujiht,  and  pitying  te;irs, 

I  view  that  noble,  stately  dome, 
Where  Scotia's  kiims  of  other  years, 

Pam'd  lieroes,  liad  tlieir  royal  home  : 
Alas  !  how  chang'd  tlie  times  to  come  ! 

Their  royal  name  low  in  the  dust! 
Their  hapless  race  wild-vvand'ring  roam 

Tho'  rigid  Jaws  cries  out,  'twas  just ! 

Wild  beats  my  heart  to  trace  your  steps, 

Whose  ancestors,  in  days  of  yore. 
Thro'  hostile  ranks  and  rnia'd  gaps 

Old  Scotia's  bloody  lion  bore  : 
Even  I,  who  sing  in  rustic  lore, 

Happy  my  sires  have  left  their  shed, 
And  fac'd  grim  dangers  loudest  roar, 

Bold-following  where  your  fathers  led  ! 

Edina  !  Scotia's  darling  seat ! 

All  hail  thy  palaces  and  tow'rs, 
Where  once  beneath  a  monarch's  feet 

Sat  legislation's  sov'reign  pow'rs  ! 
From  marking  wildly-scatter'd  flow'rs, 

As  on  the  banks  oi'  Ayr  I  stray'd, 
And  singing,  lone,  the  ling'ring  hours, 

I  shelter  in  thy  honour'd  shade. 


liUHNS'    POKMS.  141 

EPISTLE    TO    J.    LAPRAIK 

AN    OLD   SCOTTISH    BARD. 

April  1,1785. 

While  briers  and  woodbines  budding  green, 
And  paitricks  seraicliinf;-  loud  at  e'en, 
And  moniin  poussie  whiddin  seen, 

Inspire  my  muse, 
This  freedom  in  an  unknown  frien' 

1  pray  excuse. 

On  Fasten-een  we  liad  a  rockin, 

To  ca'  the  crack,  and  weave  our  stoekin  ; 

And  there  was  muckle  fun  and  jokin, 

Ye  need  na  doubt ; 
At  length  we  had  a  liearty  yokin 

At  sang  about. 

There  was  ae  satig  amang  the  rest, 
Aboon  them  a'  it  pleas'd  me  best, 
That  some  kind  husband  had  addrest 

To  some  sweet  wife  : 
It  thirl'd  the  heart-strings  thro'  the  breast, 

A'  to  the  life. 

I've  scarce  heard  ought  described  sae  weel, 
What  gen'rous,  manly  bosoms  feel  ; 
Thought  I,  "  Can  this  be  Pope,  or  Steele, 

Or  Beattie's  wark !" 
They  tauld  me  'twas  an  odd  kind  chiel 

About  Muirkirk. 

It  pat  me  fidgin  fain  to  hear't, 
And  sae  about  liim  there  I  spier't, 


142  burns'  poems. 

Then  a'  that  kcnt  him  round  declar't 

He  liad  ingine. 
That  nane  excell'd  it,  few  cam  neart, 

It  was  sae  fine. 

That,  set  him  to  a  pint  o'  ale. 

And  either  douce  or  merry  tale, 

Or  rhymes  and  sanes  he'd  made  hiinsel, 

Or  witty  catches, 
Tween  Inverness  and  Tiviotdale, 

He  had  few  matches. 

Then  up  I  gat,  and  swore  an  aith, 

Tho'  I  should  ])awn  my  pleugh  and  gruitU 

Or  die  a  cadger  pownie's  death. 

At  some  dyke-back, 
A  pint  and  gill  I'd  gie  them  baith 

To  hear  5  our  crack. 

But,  first  and  foremost,  I  should  tell, 
Amaist  as  soon  as  I  could  spell, 
I  to  the  crambo-jingle  fell, 

Tho'  rude  and  rough. 
Yet  crooning  to  a  body's  sel, 

Does  weel  enough, 

I  am  nae  poet,  in  a  sense. 

But  just  a  rhymer,  like,  by  chance. 

And  hae  to  learning  nae  pretence. 

Yet,  what  the  matter? 
Whene'er  my  muse  does  on  me  glance, 

I  jingle  at  her. 

Your  critic-folk  may  cock  their  nose, 
And  say, '  How  can  you  e'er  propose. 
You,  wha  ken  hardly  verse  frae  prose. 
To  mak  a  sanq  V 


burns'  I'oK.Ms.  11  ;i 

But,  by  your  leaves,  my  loarncd  fo»;8, 
Ye're  maybe  wrang. 

What's  a'  your  jargon  o'  your  schools, 
Your  Latiu  names  tor  horns  and  stools, 
If  honest  nature  made  you  fooJs, 

What  sairs  your  i^rammnrs  ? 
Ye'd  better  taen  up  spades'and  shools, 

Or  knappin-hamraers. 

A  set  o'  dull  conceited  liashes, 
Confuse  their  brains  in  college  classes  ! 
They  ga?ig  in  stirks,  and  come  out  assc><. 

Plain  truth  to  speak  ; 
And  syne  they  think  to  climb  Parnassu3 

By  dint  o'  Greek. 

Gie  me  ae  spark  o'  Nature's  fire, 

That's  a'  the  learning  I  desire  ; 

Then  tho'  I  drudge  thro'  dub  and  mire 

At  pleugh  or  cart, 
My  muse,  tho'  hamely  in  attire, 

May  touch  the  lieart. 

O  for  a  spunk  o'  Allan's  glee, 

Or  Fergusson's,  the  bauld  and  slee, 

Or  bright  Lapraik's,  my  friend  to  be, 

If  I  can  liit  it ; 
That  would  be  lear  eneugh  for  me. 

If  I  could  get  it. 

Now,  sir,  if  ye  hae  friends  enow, 
Tho'  real  friends,  I  believe,  are  few. 
Yet  if  your  catalogue  be  fou, 

I'se  no  insist. 
But  gif  you  want  a  friend  that's  true, 

I'm  on  your  list. 


144  burns'   I'OiiMs. 

I  winna  blaw  about  my  eel  ; 

As  ill  I  like  my  fauts  to  tell  ; 

But  friends,  arid  folk  that  wish  me  well, 

They  sometimes  roo?e  me  ! 
Tlio'  I  maun  own,  as  monie  still 

As  far  abuse  me. 

There's  ae  weejhnt  they  whyles  lay  to  me, 

I  like  the  lasses— Gude  forgie  me  ! 

For  niony  a  plack  they  wheedle  frae  me, 

At  dunce  or  fair  ; 
May  be  some  ither  thing  they  gie  me  ! 

They  weel  can  spare. 

But  MauchJine  race,  or  Mauchline  fair, 
I  should  be  proud  to  meet  you  there  ; 
We'se  gie  ae  night's  discharge  to  care. 

If  we  forgather, 
And  hae  a  swap  o'  rhyniin-icare 

Wi'  ane  anither. 

The  four-gill  chap,  we'se  gar  him  clatter, 
And  kirsen  hira  wi'  reekin  water  ; 
Syne  we'll  sit  down  and  tak  our  whitter, 

To  cheer  our  heart ; 
And  faith  we'se  be  acquainted  better 

Before  we  part. 

Awa,  ye  selfish  warly  race, 

Wha  think  that  bavins,  sense,  an'  grace, 

Ev'n  love  and  friendship,  should  give  place 

To  catch-the-jjlack ! 
I  dlnna  like  to  see  your  face. 

Nor  hear  your  crack. 

But  ye  whom  social  pleasure  charms, 
Whose  hearts  the  tide  of  kindness  warms, 


BURNS      POEMS.  1 -t.i 

Who  hold  your  heiiu/  on  the  terms, 

'Each  aid  the  others,' 
Come  to  my  bowl,  come  to  my  arms, 

Jly  friends,  my  brothers  ! 

But,  to  conclude  my  lang  epistle. 
As  my  auld  pen's  worn  to  the  grissle ! 
Twa  lines  frae  you  wad  gar  me  fissle. 

Who  am,  most  fervent, 
While  I  can  either  sing,  or  whistle. 

Your  friend  and  servant. 


TO  THE  SAME. 

April  21,  1785 

While  new-ca'd  kye  rowte  at  the  stake, 
And  pownies  reek  in  jjleuj^h  or  braik, 
This  hour  on  e'ening's  edge  I  take. 

To  own  I'm  debtor 
To  honest-hearted,  auld  Lapraik, 

For  his  kind  letter. 

Forjesket  sair,  wi'  weary  legs, 
Rattlin  the  corn  out-owre  tiie  riirs, 
Or  dealing  throngh  amang  the  naigs 

Their  ten-hours  bite, 
My  awkward  Muse  sair  pleads  and  begs, 

I  wadna  write. 

The  tapetless  ramfeezl'd  hizzy, 

She's  saft  at  best,  and  sometlihig  lazy, 

Quo'  she, '  Ye  ken,  we've  been  sae  bizzie 

Tliis  month  and  mair. 
That,  trouth,  my  head  is  grown  right  dizzl«, 

And  something  eair.' 
17  L 


146  BLIlNfi'     POEM?. 

Her  dowff  excuses  pat  rae  mad  : 

'  Conscience,'  says  I,  ye  thouwless  jade 

I'll  write,  and  that  a  "hearty  blaud, 

This  vera  night; 
Sae  dinna  ye  afiront  your  trade, 

But  rhyme  it  right. 

*  Shall  hauld  Lapraik,  the  king  o'  hearts, 
Tho'  mankind  were  a  pack  o'  cartes, 
lloose  you  sae  weel  for  your  deserts. 

In  terms  sae  friendly. 
Yet  ye'll  neglect  to  show  your  parts, 

And  thank  him  kindly  ! 

Sae  I  gat  paper  in  a  blink, 

And  down  gaed  shimpie  i'  the  ink  : 

Quoth  I, '  Before  I  sleep  a  wink, 

I  vow  I'll  close  it  J 
And  if  ye  winna  mak  it  clink. 

By  Jove  I'll  prose  it ! 

Sae  I've  begun  to  scrawl,  but  whether 
In  rhyme  or  prose,  or  baith  thegither. 
Or  some  hotch-potch  that's  rightly  neither, 

Let  time  mak  proof ; 
But  I  shall  scribble  down  some  blether 

Just  clean  aff-loof. 

My  worthy  friend,  ne'er  grudge  and  carp, 
Tho'  fortune  use  you  hard  and  sharp  ; 
Come,  kittle  up  your  muirland  harp 

Wi'  gleesorae  touch ! 
Ne'er  mind  how  fortune  waft  and  ivarp  ; 

She's  but  a  b-tch. 

She's  gien  me  mony  a  jirt  and  fleg, 
Sin   I  could  striddle  owre  a  rigj 


BURNS'    POEMS.  147 

But  by  the  L— d,  tho'  I  sliould  beg 

Wi'  lyart  pow, 
I'll  laugh,  and  sing,  and  shake  ray  leg, 

As  lang's  I  dow  ! 

Now  comes  the  sax  and  twentieth  simmer 
I've  seen  the  bud  upo'  the  timraer, 
Still  persecuted  by  the  limmer 

Frae  year  to  year  ; 
But  yet,  despite  tlie  kittle  kimmer, 

/,  Jioh,  am  here. 

Do  ye  envy  the  city  geyit, 

Behint  a  kist  to  lie' and  sklent. 

Or  purse-proud,  big  wi'  cent,  per  cent. 

And  uiuckle  wauie, 
In  some  bit  brugh  to  represent 

A  bailie's  name  ? 

Or  is't  the  paughty,  feudal  Thane, 
Wi'  ruffled  sark  and  glancin  cane, 
Wha  thinks  himsel  nae  sheep-shank  bane. 

But  lordly  stalks, 
While  caps  and  bonnets  aff  are  ta'en. 

As  by  he  walks. 

*  O,  Thou  wha  gies  us  each  gude  gift, 
Gie  me  o'  wit  and  sense  a  lift, 

Then  turn  me,  if  Thou  please,  adrift, 

Tiiro'  Scotland  wide ; 
Wi'  cits  or  lairds  I  wadna  shift. 

In  a'  their  pride.' 

Were  this  the  charter  of  our  state, 

*  On  pain  o'  hell  be  rich  and  great, 
Damnation  then  would  be  our  fate, 

Beyond  remead ; 


l48  burns'  pokms. 

But,  tlianks  to  Ileav'n  !  th.-it's  no  the  gate 
We  learn  our  creed. 

For  tlms  the  royal  inaiulati;  ran, 
Wlien  first  tlie  human  race  began, 
*  The  social,  IrieiKlly,  honest  man, 

Whate'er  he  be, 
Tis  he  fulfils  great  Nature's  plan., 

And  none  but  he  .'* 

O  mandate  ploriousand  divine! 

The  raffled  tollowfrs  o'  the  nine, 

Poor  thoughtle>s  deevils,  yet  may  sliine 

In  izlorious  li'^ht, 
^Vllile  sordid  sons  o'  Mammon's  line 

Are  dark  as  night. 

Tl)o'  here  they  scrape,  and  squeeze,  and  growl, 
Their  wortliless  nievc  t'u'  of  a  soul 
May  in  some  future  carcass  howl. 
The  forest's  fright. 
Or  in  some  day-detesting  owl 

'  May  shun  the  liglit. 

Then  may  Lapraik  and  Burns  arise. 
To  reach  their  native,  kindred  skies, 
And  si/ig  their  pleasures,  hopes,  and  joys 

In  some  mild  sphere. 
Still  closer  knit  in  friendship's  ties. 

Each  passing  year. 


BURNS    roKMs.  MO 

TO  WILLIAM  SIMPSON, 

O  C  II  I  L  T  U  K  E. 

Muy,  1785. 

I  GAT  your  letter,  winsome  Willie  : 
Wi'  grateiu'  heart,  I  thank  you  hrawlie  ; 
Though  I  muuii  suy't  I  wad  be  silly, 

And  unco  vain, 
Should  I  believe,  my  coaxin  billie, 

Your  flutterin  strain. 

But  I'se  believe  ye  kindly  meant  it, 
I  sud  be  laith  to  think  ye  hinted 
Ironic  satire,  sidelins  sklented 

On  my  poor  musie  ; 
Though  in  sic  phrasin  terms  ye've  penn'd  it, 

I  scarce  excuse  ye. 

My  senses  wad  be  in  a  creel, 
Should  I  hut  daur  a  Jwpe  to  speel, 
Wi'  Allan,  or  wi'  Gdhert field, 

Tiie  braes  o'  fame  ; 
Or  Fergussov,  the  writer  chiel, 

A  deathless  name 

(O  Fergusson !  thy  glorious  parts 

111  suited  law's  dry,  musty  arts; 

My  curse  upon  your  wliunstane  hearts, 

Ye  Enbrngh  gentry  ! 
The  tythe  o'  what  ye  wasre  at  cartes 

Wad  stow'd  his  pantry  !) 

Yet  when  a  tale  comes  i'  my  head. 
Or  lassie  gie  ray  heart  a  screed, 


loO  burns'    l'f)T<MS. 

As  wliyles  they're  like  to  bo  my  deiid, 
(O  sad  disease  !) 

I  kittle  up  ray  rustic  reed, 

It  gies  me  ease. 

Auld  Coila  now  may  fidge  fu'  fain, 

She's  gotten  poets  o'  her  ain, 

Chiels  wha  their  clianters  winna  hain, 

But  tune  their  lays, 
Till  echoes  a'  resound  again 

Her  weel-sung  praise. 

Nae  poet  thought  her  worth  his  while, 
To  set  her  name  in  measur'd  style  ; 
She  lay  like  some  unkenn'd-of  isle 

Beside  New  Holland, 
Or  whar  wild-meeting  oceans  boil 

Besouth  Magellan. 

Jiavisny  and  famous  Ferf/iisso7i 
Gied  F(yrth  and  Tay  a  lift  aboon  ; 
Yarrow  and  l^ceed,  to  monie  a  tune, 

Owre  Scotland  rings, 
While  Irxoin,  Lngar,  Ayr,  and  Boon, 

Naebody  sings. 

Th'  Illisms,  Tiber,  Thames,  and  Seine^ 
Glide  sweet  in  monie  a  tunefu'  line ; 
But,  Willie,  set  your  fit  to  mine, 

And  cock  your  crest, 
We'll  gar  our  streams  and  burnies  shine 

Up  wi'  the  best. 

We'll  sing  auld  Coila's  plains  and  fells. 
Her  muirs  red-brown  wi'  heather-bells, 
Her  banks  and  braes,  her  dens  and  dells, 
Whare  glorious  WaUaca 


burns'    I'OKMS.  101 

Aft  bure  the  grce,  as  story  tells, 

Frae  southron  billuJS 

At  Wallace^  name,  what  Scottish  blood 
But  boils  up  in  a  sprin<:-ti(le  flood  ! 
Oft  hae  our  fearless  fathers  strode 

By  Wallace^  side, 
Still  pressuig  onward  red-wet  shod, 

Or  glorious  died. 

O  sweet  are  Coiln''s  hau'^hs  and  woods, 
When  lintwhites  chant  aniang  the  buds, 
And  jinking  hares  in  amorous  winds, 

Their  loves  enjoy, 
While  through  the  braes  the  cushat  croods 

Wi'  wailfu'  cry. 

Ev'n  winter  bleak  has  charms  to  me, 
When  winds  rave  through  the  naked  tree ; 
Or  frosts  on  hills  of  Ochiltree 

Are  hoary  gray  ; 
Or  blinding  drifts  wild-furious  flee, 

Dark'ning  the  day  ! 

O  Nature!  a'  thy  shews  and  forms, 
To  feeling,  pensive  hearts  hae  charms ! 
Whether  the  summer  kindly  warms 

Wi'  life  and  light, 
Or  winter  howls,  in  gusty  storms, 

The  lang  dark  niglit ! 

The  Muse,  nae  poet  ever  fand  her, 
Till  by  himsel  he  learned  to  wander, 
Adown  some  trottin  burn's  meander. 

And  no  think  lang  ; 
O  sweet,  to  stray  and  pensive  ponder 

A  heart-felt  sang  ! 


The  war'ly  race  may  drudge  and  drive, 
IIo'^-sIiouiIht,  juiidle,  stretch,  and  strive, 
Let  nie  luir  Nature's  face  descrive, 

And  I,  wi'  pleusure, 
Shall  let  the  bizzy,  firuinhlin!:;  hive 

Bum  o'er  their  treasure. 

Far.nveel,  "  my  rhyme-composing  hrither," 
We've  been  o\vre  latij^  unkenn'd  to  ithtr : 
Now  let  us  lay  our  heads  ther;ither, 

In  love  fraternal : 
May  Envt/  wallo])  in  a  tetiier, 

Black  fiend,  infernal ! 

While  Ilighlandmen  hate  tolls  and  taxes  ; 
While  Muirian'  herds  like  sfude  fat  braxies  ; 
While  Terra  Firma,  on  her  axis 

I^iurnal  turns, 
Count  on  a  friend,  in  faith  and  practice, 

In  Robert  Burns. 


POSTSCRIPT. 

My  memory's  no  worth  a  preen  ; 

I  had  amaist  forgotten  clean. 

Ye  bade  me  write  you  what  they  mean 

By  this  new-Ufjht,* 
'Bout  which  our  henb  sae  aft  liae  been 

Maist  like  to  fight. 

In  days  when  mankind  were  but  callans 
Mgrammar,  logic,  and  sic  talents, 


•  See  Note,  Pujre  44, 


IIUKNS'     POEMS,  1    ,;J 

Tiiey  took  nae  p:iins  thi-ir  speech  to  halatice, 

Or  rules  to  gie, 
lint  spiik  their  thoiij^lits  in  plain,  braid  lallans, 

Like  you  or  lue. 

In  tliae  auld  times,  they  thou^'ht  the  moon 
Just  like  a  sark,  or  pair  o'  slujon, 
Wore  by  degrees,  till  her  last  rooii 

Gaed  past  their  viewin, 
And  shortly  after  she  was  done, 

They  gat  a  new  ane. 

This  past  for  certain,  undisputed  ; 

It  ne'er  cam  in  their  heads  to  doul)t  it, 

Till  chiels  gat  up  and  wad  confute  it, 

And  ca'd  it  wrang  ; 
And  muckle  din  there  was  about  it, 

Both  loud  and  lang. 

Some  herds,  weel  learn'd  upo'  the  beuk, 
Wad  threap  auld  folk  the  tiling  misteuk  ; 
For  'twas  the  auld  moon  turn'd  a  ueuk, 

And  out  o'  sight, 
And  backlins-comin,  to  the  leuk 

She  grew  mair  bright. 

This  was  deny'd,  it  was  affirm'd  ; 

The  heixh  and  hlrsels  were  alarm'd ; 

The  rev'rend  greybeards  rav'd  and  storm 'd, 

That  beardless  laddies 
Should  think  they  better  were  inform'd 

Than  their  auld  daddies. 

Frae  less  to  mair  it  gaed  to  sticks ; 
Frae  words  and  aiths  to  clours  and  nicks, 
And  mony  a  fallow  gat  his  licks, 
Wi'  heartv  crunt ; 


l/it  burns'    rOEMd. 

And  some,  to  karn  them  for  their  tricks, 
Were  hang'd  and  brunt. 

This  game  was  play'd  in  raony  lands, 
And  auld-lit/ht  caddies  bare  sic  hands,. 
That  faith,  the  vountrKters  took  the  sands 

\Vi'  nimble  shanks, 
Till  lairds  forbade,  by  strict  commands, 

Sic  bluidy  pranks. 

But  new-Vuiht  herds  g'at  sic  a  cowe, 
Folk  thought  them  ruhi'd  stick  and  stowe, 
Till  now  amaist  on  every  knowe, 

Ye'U  find  ane  plac'd  ; 
And  some,  their  7iew-li(/ht  fair  avow, 

Just  quite  barefac'd. 

Nae  doubt  the  aiild-liglit  flocks  are  bleatin : 
Their  zealous  herds  are  vex'd  and  sweatin  ; 
Mysel,  I've  even  seen  them  greetin 

Wi'  girnin  spite, 
To  hear  the  moon  sae  sadly  lied  on 

By  word  and  write. 

But  shortly  they  will  cowe  the  loons, 
Some  auld-light  herds  in  neebor  towns 
Are  mind't,  in  thin;,^s  thev  ca'  halloovs. 

To  tak  a  flight. 
And  stay  ae  month  amang  the  moo7is, 

And  see  them  right. 

Gude  observation  they  will  gie  them  ; 

And  when  the  cnild  7noon's  gaun  to  lea'e  them, 

The  hindmost  shaird,  they'll  fetch  it  wi'  them. 

Just  i'  their  pouch. 
And  when  the  neio-Ught  billies  see  them, 
I  think  they'll  crouch. 


BURNS      rOKMr-'. 

Sae,  ye  observe,  that  a'  tliis  clatter 

Is  naethinor  bat  a  "  moonshine  matter  ;'* 

But  though  dull-prose  folk  Latin  splatter 

In  logic  tulzie, 
I  hope  we  bardies  ken  some  better 

Than  mind  sic  bruilzie. 


EPISTLE  TO  JOHIV  RANKIN, 

E.VCL03IKG  SOME  POEMS. 

O  ROUGH,  rude,  ready-witted  Rankin, 
The  wale  o'  cocks  for  fun  and  drinkin  I 
Tiiere's  mony  godly  folks  are  thinkin 

Your  dreams*  and  tricks 
Will  send  you,  Korah-like,  a-sinkin, 

S Draught  to  auld  Nick's. 

Ye  hae  sae  niony  cracks  and  cants, 
And  in  your  wicked,  drucken  rants, 
Ye  raak  a  deevil  o'  the  saunts, 

And  till  them  fu' ; 
And  then  their  failings,  flaws,  and  wants, 

Are  a'  seen  through. 

Hypocrisy,  in  mercy  spare  it ! 
Tliat  holy  roby,  O  dinna  tear  it ! 
Spare't  for  their  sakes  wha  aften  wear  ii, 

The  lads  in  black ! 
But  your  curst  wit,  when  it  comes  near  it, 

Rives't  aff  their  back. 


*  A  crrtaiii  humorous  dream  of  his  was   then   making  i\ 
noise  in  the  country-side. 


156  BTiiNs'   roi:Ms. 

riiiiik,  wicked  sinner,  wha  ye're  scaitliinsr, 
It's  just  the  bh/e-f/oirn  biidLCe  and  claitiiinpf 
O'  saunts ;  tak  that,  ye  lea'e  tliem  iiaeihii»;r 

To  ken  them  by, 
Frae  ony  unregenerate  lu'ati)eri, 

Like  you  or  I. 

I've  sent  you  here  some  rliyniin^  ware, 
A'  that  I  bargrain'd  for  and  mair  ; 
Sae,  when  ye  hae  an  huur  to  spare, 

1  will  expect 
Yon  satitj  ;*  ye'll  sen't,  wi'  cannie  care, 

And  no  neglect. 

Thou'jfh  faitli,  sma'  heart  hae  I  to  sing ! 
My  Muse  dov/  scarcely  spread  her  wins^ 
I've  play'd   mysel  a  bonnie  spring, 

And  danced  ray  fill ; 
I'd  better  gane  and  sair't  the  king, 

At  Bunker's  Hill. 

'Twas  ae  night  lately,  in  my  fun, 

I  traed  a  roving  wi'  tlie  gun, 

And  brought  a  patrick  to  the  grun, 

A  bonnie  hen. 
And,  as  the  twilight  was  begun, 

Thought  nane  wad  ken. 

The  poor  wee  thing  was  little  hurt ; 

I  straikit  it  a  wee  for  sport. 

Ne'er  thinkin  tiiey  would  fash  rae  for't  ; 

Biit  deil-nia-eare ! 
Somebody  tells  \\ie  poacher- court 

The  hale  affair. 


A  son^;  lie  had  promised  the  Author. 


burns'  roKMs,  157 

Some  auld  usM  hands  hud  ta'eii  a  note, 
Tluit  sic  a  hen  had  got  a  sliot ; 
I  was  suspected  for  the  plot ; 

I  scorn'd  to  lie  ; 
So  gat  the  whissle  o'  my  groat, 

And  pay't  l\iefce. 

But,  my  gun,  o'  guns  the  wale. 
And  by  my  pouther  and  my  hail, 
And  "bV  my  hen,  and  by  her  tall, 

I  vow  and  swear. 
The  game  shall  pay,  o'er  muir  and  dale. 

For  this,  neist  year. 

As  soon's  the  cockin-time  is  by, 
And  the  wee  pouts  begin  to  cry, 
L— d,  I'se  hae  sportin  by  and  by, 

For  my  cowd  guinea, 
Though  I  should  herd  the  buckskin  kye 

For't,  in  Virginia. 

Trowth,  they  had  muckle  for  to  blame  I 
'Twas  neitlier  broken  wing  nor  limb, 
But  twa-three  dnips  al)out  the  wame, 

Sciirre  ihronirh  the  feathers  ; 
And  baith  a  yellow  (ieorge  to  claim, 

And  thole  thc^ir  blethers  ! 

It  pits  me  aye  as  m ad's  a  hare  ; 

So  I  can  rhyme  nor  write  nae  mair  ! 

Wwl  pentuj worths  again  are  fair, 

Wlien  time's  expedient : 
Meanwhile  I  am,  respected  sir. 

Your  most  obedient. 


158  HURNS'    POKMS. 

WRITTEN     IN 

FRIARS-CARSE  HERMITAGE, 

ON    KITIISIDE. 

Thou  whom  chance  may  liither  lead, 
Be  thou  clad  in  russet  weed, 
Be  thou  deck'd  in  silken  stole, 
'Grave  these  counsels  on  thy  soul. 

Life  is  hut  a  day  at  most, 
Sprung  from  nicrht,  in  darkness  lost ; 
Hope  not  sunshine  every  hour. 
Fear  not  clouds  will  always  lower. 

As  youth  and  love,  with  sprightly  dance, 
Beneath  thy  morning  star  advance. 
Pleasure  with  her  siren  air 
May  delude  the  thoughtless  pair  : 
Let  prudence  bless  enjoyment's  cup, 
Then  raptur'd  sip,  and  sip  it  up. 

As  thy  day  grows  warm  and  high. 
Life's  meridian  flaming  nigh, 
Dost  thou  spurn  the  humble  vale  ? 
Life's  proud  summits  would'st  thou  scale  ? 
Check  thy  climbing  step,  elate, 
Evils  lurk  in  felon  wait : 
Dangers,  eagle-pinion'd,  bold. 
Soar  around  each  cliffy  hold. 
While  cheerful  peace,  with  linnet-song. 
Chants  the  lowly  dells  among. 

As  the  shades  of  ev'ning  close, 
Beck'ning  thee  to  long  repose  : 


burns'  poems.  159 

As  life  itself  becomes  disease, 

Seek  the  chimney-nook  of  ease, 

There  ruminate  with  sober  thought. 

On  all  thou'st  seen,  and  heard,  and  wrought 

And  teach  the  sportive  younkers  round, 

Saws  of  experience,  sage  and  sound. 

Say,  man's  true,  genuine,  estimate, 

The  grand  criterion  of  Ins  fate, 

Is  not.  Art  thou  high  or  low  ? 

Did  thy  fortune  ebb  or  flow  ? 

Did  many  talents  gild  thy  span  ! 

Or  frugal  nature  grudge  tliee  one  ? 

Tell  them,  and  press  it  on  their  mind, 

As  thou  tiiyself  must  shortly  find, 

The  smile  or  frown  of  awful  Heav'n, 

To  virtue  or  to  vice  is  giv'n, 

Say,  to  be  just,  and  kind,  and  wise, 

There  solid  self-enjoy  meat  lies  ; 

That  foolish,  selfish,  faithless  ways, 

Lead  to  the  wretched,  vile  and  base. 

Thus  resign'd  and  quiet,  creep 
To  the  bed  of  lasting  sleep  ; 
Sleep,  whence  thou  shalt  ne'er  awake, 
Night,  where  dawn  shall  never  break, 
Till  future  life,  future  no  more. 
Till  light  and  joy  the  good  restore, 
To  light  and  joy  unknown  before. 

Stranger,  go  !  Heav'n  be  thy  guide  ! 
Quod  the  beadsmen  of  Nith-side. 


ODE, 

SACRED   TO    THE    MEMORY    OF    MRS.    --   OP  — . 

Dweller  in  yon  dungeon  dark. 
Hangman  of  creation  mark  I 


lf»0  IIUIJNS'    POEMS. 

W!io  in  widow-weeds,  appears, 
Laden  witli  nniionour'd  years, 
Noosinji  with  care  a  bursfinj;  |)urr;e, 
Baited  with  many  a  deadly  cur&e  ? 

STROPHE. 

View  the  withrr'd  beldam's  face— 
Can  thy  keen  inspection  trace 
Alight  of  humanity's  sweet  melting  grace? 
Note  that  eye,  'tis  rheum  o'erflows, 
Pity's  flood" tliere  never  rose. 
See  those  liands  ne'er  stretch'd  to  save, 
Hands  tliat  took— but  never  gave. 
Keeper  of  Mammon's  iron  chest, 
Lo,  there  she  goes,  unpitied  and  unhlest 
She  goes,  but  not  to  realms  of  everlasting  rest  ? 

AXTISTROPHE. 

Plunderer  of  armies,  lift  thine  eyes, 
(A  while  forbear,  ye  ton'ringr  iiends,) 
Seest  thou  whose  step,  unwilliner,  hither  bends? 

No  fallen  angel,  hurl'd  from  upper  skies: 
'Tis  thy  trusty  qno)idam  mate, 
Doom'd  to  share  thy  fiery  fate. 

She,  tardy,  hellward  plies. 


And  are  they  of  no  more  avail, 

Ten  thousand  glitt'ring  pounds  a-year  ; 
In  other  worlds  can  Mammon  fail, 

Omnipotent  as  he  is  here  ? 
O,  bitter  mockery  of  the  pompous  bier, 

While  down  the  wretched  vital  part  is  driven? 
The  cave-lodg'd  beggar,  with  a  conscience  clear, 

Expires  in  rags,  unknown,  and  goes  to  Heaven. 


U  urns'    I'OKMS.  1(31 


ELKGY  ON  CAPT.  MATTHEW  HENDERSON, 

^NTLEMAN  WHO  HELD  THB  PATKJTT  FOR   HIS  HOXOUn: 
IMMEDIATELV   IJIOM   Al^MlOHTV  (iOD. 


I 


But  now  liis  radiant  course  is  run, 
For  JLitthcw  «  course  was  bright; 

Hi^  so'il  was  like  the  clorious  sun, 
A  matchless,  heav'nly  ligrlit. 


O  Dkatii  !  thou  tyrant  fell  and  bloody  ! 
The  nieikle  deovil  wi'  a  woodie 
Haurl  thee  hanie  to  liis  black  smiddie, 

O'r  hurcheon  hides, 
And  like  stock-lish  come  o'er  his  studdie 

Wi'  tiiy  auld  sides! 

He's  gane  !  he's  gane !  he's  frae  us  torn, 

The  ae  host  fellow  eVr  was  born  ! 

Thee,  Matthew.  Nature's  sel  shall  mourn 

By  wood  and  wild, 
Where,  haply,  pity  strays  ibrlorn, 

Frae  man  exiled. 

Ye  hills,  near  noebors  o'  the  starns, 
Tliat  proudly  cock  your  crestin  cairns  I 
Ye  cliffs,  the  haunt  of  sai.iii;;-  yearns, 

Where  eclio  shimbers ; 
Come  join  ye,  Nature's  sturdiest  bairns, 

My  wailinjj  numbers ! 

Mourn,  ilka  prove  the  cushat  kens ! 
Ye  haz'lly  sbaws  atid  briery  dens  ! 
Ve  burnies,  wiinplin  down  vour  {^leiis, 

Wi'tcdlindin, 
17  M 


1()2  liLUiNs'     POEMS. 

Or  foaniiiig  Strang,  wi'  hasty  stens, 
Frae  linn  to  linn. 

Mourn,  little  harebells  o'er  the  lee  ; 
Ye  stately  foxf^loves,  fair  to  see ! 
Ye  woodbines  hanging  bonnilie. 

In  scented  bow'rs ; 
Ye  roses  on  your  thorny  tree. 

The  first  of  flow'rs. 

At  dawn,  when  ev'ry  grassy  blade 

Droops  with  a  diamond  at  his  head, 

At  e'en,  when  beans  their  fragrance  shed, 

r  the  rustling  gale, 
Ye  maukins  whiddin  thro'  the  glade, 

Come  join  my  wail. 

Mourn,  ye  wee  sono^sters  o'  the  wood ; 
Ye  grouse  that  crap  tlie  heather  bud  ; 
Ye  curlews  calling  through  a  clud  ; 

Ye  whistling  plover ; 
And  mourn,  ye  whirring  paitrick  brood; 

He's  gane  for  ever ! 

Mourn,  sooty  coots  and  speckled  teals ; 
Ye  fisher  herons,  watching  eels ; 
Ye  duck  and  drake,  wi'  airy  wheels 

Circling  the  lake  ; 
Ye  bitterns,  till  the  quagmire  reels, 

Rair  forhis  sake. 

Mourn,  clam'ring  craiks  at  close  o'  day, 
'Mang  fields  o'  flow'ring  clover  gay  ; 
And  when  ye  wing  your  annual  way 

Frae  our  cauld  shore, 
Tell  thae  far  warids,  wha  lies  in  clay, 

Wham  we  deplore. 


BUU.NS'    POEM 8.  1(53 

Ye  howlets,  frae  your  ivy  bow'r, 
In  some  aiild  tree  or  Eldritch  tow'r, 
Wliat  time  the  inoon,  wi'  silent  glow'r, 

Sets  up  her  horn, 
Wail  thro'  the  dreary  midnight  hour 

Till  waukrite  morn  I 

O,  rivers,  forests,  hills,  and  plains ! 
Oft  have  ye  heard  my  canty  strains  : 
Bui  now,  what  <dse  for  me  remains 

But  tales  of  wo  ; 
And  frae  my  een  the  drapping  rains 

Maun  ever  flow. 

Mourn,  spring,  thou  darling  of  the  year  ! 
Ilk  cowslip  cup  shall  kep  a  tear  : 
Tiiou  simmer,  wliile  each  corny  spear 

Slioots  up  its  head, 
Thy  gay,  green,  flow'ry  tresses  shear, 

For  him  that's  dead  I 

Thou,  autumn,  wi'  thy  yellow  hair, 
In  grief  thy  sallow  mantle  tear  ! 
Tliou,  winter,  hurling  thro'  the  air, 

The  roaring  blast, 
Wide  o'er  the  naked  world  declare 

The  worth  we've  lost ! 

Mourn  him,  thou  sun,  great  source  of  light ! 
Mourn,  empress  of  the  silent  night ! 
And  you,  ye  twinklintr  starnies  bright. 

My  JMatthew  mourn  I 
For  through  your  orbs  he's  ta'en  his  flight, 

Ne'er  to  return. 

O  Henderson  I  the  man !  the  brother ! 
And  art  thou  gone,  and  gone  for  ever ! 


104  BUKNS'    POEMS. 

And  hiisl  thou  crost  tliiit  unknown  river. 
Life's  flrcary  hound ! 

Like  tlice,  where  sliail  I  find  another, 
The  world  around ! 

Go  to  your  sculptur'd  tombs,  ye  Great, 
In  a'  the  tinsel  trash  o'  state  ! 
But  by  tliy  honest  turfril  wait, 

Thou  man  of  worth  I 
And  weep  tlie  ae  best  fellow's  fate 

E'er  lav  in  earib. 


THE  EPITAPH. 

Stop,    passenprer !  my  story's  brief, 
And  trutii  1  shall  relate,  man  ; 

I  tell  nae  common  tale  o'  grief. 
For  Matthew  was  a  great  man. 

If  thou  uncommon  merit  hast, 
Yet  spurn'd  at  fortune's  door,  man, 

A  look  of  pity  hither  cast, 
For  Matthew  was  a  poor  man. 

If  thou  a  noble  sodaer  art, 
That  passest  by  tiiis  grave,  man. 

There  moulders  here  a  gallant  heart, 
For  Matthew  was  a  brave  man. 

If  thou  on  men,  their  works  and  ways, 
Canst  throw  uncommon  light,  man, 

Here  lies  wlia  weel  had  won  thy  praise, 
For  Matthew  was  a  bright  man. 

If  thou  at  friendship's  sacred  ca', 
)Vad  life  itself  resign  man ; 


URN's'    POKMS.  lfi.3 


Thy  sympathetic  tear  maun  fa', 
For  Matthew  was  a  kia'  man  ! 

If  thou  art  staunch  without  a  stain, 
Like  the  unciiunging  blue,  man; 

I'iiis  was  a  kinsman  o'  tliy  ain, 
For  Matthew  was  a  true  man. 


If  thou  hast  wit,  and  fun,  and  fire, 
And  ne'er  ^'ude  wine  did  fear,  man  ; 

Tiiis  was  tiiy  billie,  dam,  and  sire, 
For  Matthew  was  a  queer  man. 

If  ony  whig•^i^h  whinjrin  sot, 
To  blame  poor  Mattliew  d;ire,  man, 

May  dool  and  sorrow  be  his  lot, 
For  Mattliew  was  a  rare  man. 


LAMENT  OF  MARY  QUEEN  OF  SC0T3. 

ON   THE   APPUOACU   OF    SI'RING. 

Now  Nature  hangs  her  mantle  green 

On  every  blooming  tree, 
And  spreads  her  sheets  o'  daisies  white 

Out  o'er  the  grassy  lea  : 
Now  Phoebus  clieer:-  the  crystal  streams, 

Anil  glads  the  azure  skies  ; 
But  nought  can  glad  the  weary  wight 

That  fast  in  durance  lies. 

Now  lav'rocks  wake  the  merry  morn, 

Aloft  on  dewy  wiiiir ; 
The  merle,  in  his  noontide  bow'r, 

Makes  woodland  echoes  ring  ; 


lOli  BURNS      POEMS. 

Thp  mavis  wild,  \vi'  many  a  note, 

Sinps  drowsy  day  to  rest ; 
In  love  and  freedom  tliey  rejoice, 

Wi'  care  nor  thrall  opprest. 

Now  blooms  the  lily  by  the  bank, 

The  primroee  down  the  brae  ; 
Tlie  hawthorn's  budding  in  the  gkn, 

And  milk-white  is  the  slae  : 
The  meanest  liind  in  fair  Scotland 

May  rove  their  sweet  araang  ; 
But  I,  the  Queen  of  a'  Scotland, 

Maun  lie  in  prison  Strang. 

I  was  the  Queen  o'  bonnie  France, 

Where  happy  I  hae  been  ; 
Fu'  liglitly  rose  I  in  the  morn, 

As  blithe  lay  down  at  e'en  : 
And  I'm  the  sovereign  of  Scotland, 

And  raony  a  traitor  there  ; 
Yet  here  I  lie  in  foreign  bands, 

And  never-ending  care. 

But  as  for  thee,  thou  false  woman, 

My  sister  and  my  fae, 
Grim  vengeance,  yet  shall  whet  a  sword 

That  through  thy  soul  shall  gae  : 
The  weeping  blood  in  woman's  breast 

Was  never  known  to  thee  ! 
Nor  the  balm  that  draps  on  wounds  of  wo 

Frae  woman's  pitying  e'e. 

My  son  !  my  son  !  may  kinder  stars 

Upon  thy  fortune  shine  ; 
And  may  those  pleasures  gild  thy  reign, 

That  ne'er  wad  blink  on  mine  ; 
God  keep  thee  frae  thy  mother's  faes. 

Or  turn  their  hearts'to  thee  : 


ilLKNS'    POKMS.  \6] 

And  when  tliou  nieet'st  tliy  mother's  f.  iend, 
Remember  him  for  me  ! 

O  !  soon  to  me,  muy  summer-suns 

Nae  raair  lii^ht  up  the  morn  ! 
N;ie  mair,  to  me,  the  autumn  winds 

Wave  o'er  the  yellow  corn  ; 
And  in  the  narrow  house  o'  deatli 

Let  winter  rountl  me  rave  ; 
And  the  next  flowers  that  deck  the  sprinjr, 

Bloom  on  my  peaceful  grave. 


TO  ROBERT  GRAHAM,  ESQ. 

OF    FIXTRA. 

La-TE  crippled  of  an  arm,  and  now  a  leg, 
About  to  beg  a  pass  for  leave  to  beg  ; 
Dull,  listless,  teased,  dejected  and  deprest, 
(Xature  is  adverse  to  a  cripple's  rest;) 
Will  generous  Graham  list  to  his  poet's  wail? 
(It  soothes  poor  misery,  hearkening  to  her  tale,) 
And  hear  him  curse  the  light  he  first  survey'd, 
And  doubly  curse  the  luckless  rhyming  trade. 

Thou,  Nature,  partial  Nature,  T  arraign; 
Of  thy  caprice  maternal  I  complain. 
The  lion  and  the  bull  thy  care  have  found, 
One  shakes  the  forest,  and  one  spurns  the  ground 
Thou  giv'st  the  ass  his  hide,  the  snail  his  shell, 
Th'  cnvenom'd  wasp,  victorious,  guards  his  cell. 
Thy  minions,  kings  defend,  control,  devour. 
In  all  th'  omnipotence  of  rule  and  power. — 
Foxes  and  statesmen,  subtile  wiles  ensure  ; 
The  cit  and  polecat  stink,  and  are  secure. 
Toads  with  their  poison,  doctors  with  their  drug, 
The  priest  and  hedgehog  in  their  robes,  are  snug. 


168  B5:r>6'   poems. 

Ev'n  silly  woman  has  licr  warlike  arts, 

Her  toiiilue  and  eyes,  Iiei-  (dreaded  ^pear  and  darts. 

But  oh  !  thou  bitter  step-motlier  and  liard. 
To  thy  poor,  fenceless,  naked  child— the  Bard  ! 
A  thin*;-  nntejicliahle  in  world's  skill, 
And  Jiali  an  idiot  too,  more  lieljjless  still. 
No  heels  to  bear  him  from  the  opening  dun  ; 
No  claws  to  dig.  his  hated  si^lit  to  shun  ; 
No  horns,  but  those  l-y  luckh'ss  Hymen  worn, 
And  those,  alas  !  not  Amaltliea's  horn  : 
No  nerves  ollactr'y,  Mammoii's  trusty  cur, 
Clad  in  rich  dulness,  comfortable  fur. 
In  naked  feeling,  and  in  achiniz  pride. 
He  bears  th'  unbroken  blast  from  ev'ry  side  ; 
Varapyre  booksellers  drain  him  to  the  heart. 
And  scorpion  critics  cureless  venom  dart. 

Critics — appallM,  I  venture  on  the  name. 
Those  cut-tliroat  bandits  in  the  paths  of  fame  : 
Bloody  dissectors,  worse  than  ten  Monroes- 
He  hacks  to  teach,  they  mangle  to  expose. 

His  heart  by  causeless  wanton  malice  wrui.^% 
By  blockheads'  daring  into  madness  stung; 
His  well-won  bays,  than  life  itself  more  deor, 
By  miscreants  torn,  wlio  ne'er  one  spriy;  mu.^t  \v<-a! 
Foil'd,  i)leeding,  tortur'd,  in  th'  unequal  strife, 
'I'lie  hapless  poet  flounders  on  thro'  life, 
Till  fli'd  eficli  hope  that  once  his  bosom  fir'd, 
And  fled  each  muse  that  glorious  once  inspir'd, 
Low  snidt  in  squalid,  unprotected  age, 
Dead,  even  resentment,  for  his  injur'd  page, 
He  heeds  or  feels  no  more  the  ruthless  critic's  rage. 

So,  by  some  hedge,  the  generous  steed  deceas'd, 
For  half-sf^rv'd  snarling  curs  a  dainty  feast; 


burns'    P0EM3.  I  G.I 

By  toil  and  famine  wore  to  skin  and  bone, 
Lies  senseless  ofeacli  tugging  bitcli's  son. 

0  dulness!  portion  of  the  truly  blest! 
Calni-slielter'd  liaven  of  eternal  Vest ! 

Tliy  sons  ne'er  nuulden  in  the  tierce  extremes 
Of  Fortune's  polar  l'ro-;t,  or  torrid  beams. 
If  mantling  liiy,li  slie  fills  the  golden  cup, 
With  sober  selfish  ease  they  sip  it  up : 
Conscious  the  iiounteous  meed  they  well  deserve, 
They  only  wonder  "some  folks"  do  not  starve. 
The  grave  sa.;e  hern  tiuis  easy  picks  his  frog, 
And  thinks  the  mallard  a  sad  worlliless  dcg. 
When  disappointment  snaps  the  clue  of  hope, 
And  thro'  disastrous  night  they  darkling  grope. 
With  deaf  endurance  sluguishly  they  bear. 
And  just  conclude,  that  "fools  are  fortune's  care." 
So,  heavy,  passive  to  the  tempest's  shocks, 
Strong  on  the  sign-post  stands  the  stupid  ox. 

Not  so  the  idle  muses'  mad-cap  train, 
Not  such  the  workings  of  their  niooa-struck  brjin  ; 
In  equanimity  they  never  dwell. 
By  turns  in  soaring  heav'n,  or  vaunted  hell. 

1  dread  tliee,  Fate,  relentless  and  severe, 
With  all  a  poet's,  husband's,  father's  fear! 
Already  one  strong  hold  of  hope  is  lost, 
Glencairn,  the  truly  noble,  lies  in  dust; 
(Fled,  like  the  sun  eclipt-'d  at  noon  ai)pears, 
And  left  us  darkling  in  a  world  of  tears  :) 
Oh  !  hear  my  ardent,  grateful,  selfish  pray'r! 
Fintra,  my  other  stay,  lonir  bless  and  spare  ! 
Thro'  a  long  life  his  hopes  and  wishes  crown^ 
And  bri<4lit  in  cloudless  skies  his  sun  go  down! 
May  blisis  domestic  smooth  his  private  path. 
Give  energy  to  life,  and  sooth  his  latest  breath 
With  many  a  filial  tear  circling  the  bed  of  death ! 


170  n urns'   I'uKMS. 


LAMExVr  FOR  JAMES,    EARL  OF 
GLENCAIRN. 

The  wind  blew  hollow  frae  the  hills, 

By  fits  the  sun's  departing  beam 
Look'd  on  the  fadinir  .yellow  woods 

That  wav'd  o'er  Lu^ar's  winding  stream  : 
Beneath  a  craigy  steep  a  bard, 

Laden  with  years  and  meikle  pain, 
In  loud  lament  bewail'd  his  lord, 

Whom  death  had  all  untimely  ta'en. 

He  lean'd  him  to  an  ancient  aik, 

Whose  trunk  was  mould'ring  down  wi'  years  ; 
His  locks  were  bleached  white  wi'  time, 

His  hoary  cheek  was  wet  wi'  tears  ; 
And  as  he  touch'd  his  trembling  harp, 

And  as  he  tun'd  his  doleful  sang, 
The  winds,  lamenting  thro'  the  caves 

To  echo  bore  the  notes  alang. 

"  Ye  scatter'd  birds,  tliat  faintly  sing 

The  reliques  of  the  vernal  quire  ! 
Ye  woods,  that  shed  on  a'  the  winds 

The  honours  of  the  aged  year  ! 
A  few  short  months,  and  glad  and  gay. 

Again  ye'U  charm  the  ear  and  ee; 
But  nought  in  all  revolving  time 

Can  gladness  bring  again  to  me. 

"  I  am  a  bending,  aged  tree. 

That  long  has  stood  the  wind  and  rain  ; 
But  now  has  come  a  cruel  blast, 

And  my  last  hold  of  earth  is  gane  : 
Nae  leaf  o'  mine  shall  greet  the  spring, 

Nae  simmer  sun  exalt  my  bloom ; 


burns'  pobms.  171 

But  I  maun  lie  before  the  storm, 
And  ithers  plant  them  in  my  room. 

"  I've  seen  sae  mony  changefu'  years, 

On  earth  I  am  a  stranj^er  grown  ; 
I  wander  in  the  ways  of  men. 

Alike  unknowing'  and  unknown ; 
Unheard,  unpitied,  unreliev'd, 

I  bear  alane  my  lade  o'  care, 
For  silent,  low,  on  beds  of  dust, 

Lie  a'  that  would  my  sorrows  Share. 

'^  And  last,  (the  sum  of  a'  my  griefs  !) 

My  noble  master  lies  in  clay ; 
The  flower  araang  our  barons  bold. 

His  country's  pride,  his  country's  stay  ; 
In  weary  being  now  I  pine, 

For  a'  the  life  of  life  is  dead, 
And  hope  has  left  my  aged  ken, 

On  forward  wing  for  ever  fled. 

*'  Awake  thy  last  sad  voice,  my  harp ! 

The  voice  of  wo  and  wild  despair ! 
Awake,  resound  thy  latest  lay. 

Then  sleep  in  silence  evermair  ! 
And  thou,  ray  last,  best,  only  friend, 

That  fillest  an  untimely  tomb, 
Accept  this  tribute  from  the  banl 

Thou  brought  from  fortune's  mirkest  glooia. 

"  In  poverty's  low  barren  vale, 

Thick  mists,  obscure,  involv'd  me  round  j 
Tliough  oft  I  turned  the  wistful  eye, 

Nae  ray  of  fame  was  to  be  found  :  v 

Thou  found'st  me,  like  tiie  morning  sun 

Tliat  melts  the  fogs  in  limpid  air, 
The  friendless  bard  and  rustic  song, 

Became  alike  thy  fostering  care. 


17-2  mniNs'  POKMS. 

"  O  !  wliy  lias  worth  so  short  a  date, 

While  vilhiiiis  ript^n  {iTi\y  with  time? 
Must  thou,  the  nolile,  ^en'roua,  great. 

Fall  in  bold  maiiliood's  hardy  prime! 
Why  did  I  live  to  ere  That  day  ? 

A  day  to  tiie  so  iiill  of  wo  ! 
O!  had  I  met  ti:e  mortal  shaft 

Which  laid  my  benefactor  low  ! 

*'  The  brideproom  may  forget  the  bride 

Was  made  his  wedded  wife  yestreen  ; 
The  monareh  may  forget  tiie  crown 

That  on  his  head  an  hour  has  been; 
The  mother  may  forget  the  ciiild 

That  smiles  sae  sweetly  on  her  knee; 
But  I'll  remember  tiiee,  Glencairn, 

And  a'  that  thou  hast  done  for  me  I" 


LINES 

e£NT  TO  SIR  JOHN  AVIHTEFOOIID,  OF  WHITEFOOKII,  BART. 
WITH  THE  FOREGOING  POEM. 


rever 


Thou,  who  thy  honour  as  thy  God  .^ , 

Who,   save   thy   mind's  reproach,  nou;^iit  earthly 

fear'st ; 
To  thee  this  votive  ofiering  I  impart, 
The  tearful  tribute  of  a  broken  heart. 
The  friend  thou  valued'st,  I  the  patron  lov'd  ; 
His  worth,  his  honour,  all  the  world  approv'd. 
We'll  mourn  till  we  too  go  as  he  has  gone, 
And  tread  the  dreary  path  to  that  darkworld  unknown. 


BUUNb'    POKMS.  173 

T  A  iM    O'    S  n  A  N  T  E  II , 

A    TALE. 


Of  liiownj-is  and  of  Bogilii  full  is  lliis  Biikc. —  Gajcin  Douglas. 


VVhex  chapman  billies  leave  the  sTreet, 
And  drouthy  neebors,  neebors  meet, 
As  market-days  are  wearin  late, 
And  folk  begin  to  tak  the  jrate  ; 
Wliile  we  sit  bousin  at  the  nappy, 
And  getting  foil  and  uneo  happy, 
We  think  uae  on  the  lung  Scots  miles. 
The  mosses,  waters,  slaps,  and  styles, 
Tliat  lie  between  us  and  our  hanie, 
\V^  hare  sits  our  sulky  sullen  dame, 
Gatherin  her  l)rows  like  gatheriw  storm, 
Nursin  her  wrath  to  keep  it  warm. 

This  truth  fand  honest  Tam  o'  Shanter, 
As  he  frae  Ayr  ae  niuht  did  canter, 
(Auld  Ayr,  whom  ne'er  a  town  supasses 
For  honest  men  and  bonny  lasses.) 

Oh,  Tarn !  liadst  thou  but  been  sac  wise, 
As  ta'en  thy  ain  wife  Kate's  advice  ! 
81ie  tauld  thee  weel  thou  was  a  skellum, 
A  bletherinu',  blustering,  drunken  blellum; 
Tiiat  frae  November  till  October, 
Ae  market-day  tliou  was  na  sobi-.r; 
That  ilka  nielder  wi'  the  miller. 
Thou  sat  as  lang  as  thou  had  siller ; 
That  every  nai^  w.is  cad  a  shoe  on. 
The  smith  and  thee  gat  roarin  fou  on  ; 
Tliatat  the  L— d's  iiouse,  ev'n  on  Sunday, 
Thou  drank  wi'  Kirton  Jean  till  Monday. 


174  burns'  poe.ms. 

She  prophesied  tliat,  l;ite  or  soon, 

Tliou  wad  he  found  dcej)  drown'd  in  Doon  ; 

Or  catch'd  wi  warlocks  in  tlie  mirk, 

By  Alloicay's  auld  haunted  kirk. 

All,  ffentle  dames !  it  pars  me  greet, 
To  think  how  niony  counsels  sweet. 
How  mony  len'^tlieiiVi  saue  advises, 
The  husband  frae  the  wife  despises  ! 

But  to  our  tale  :  Ae  market-night, 
Tain  had  got  planted  unco  right  j 
Fast  by  an  ingle,  bleezing  finely, 
Wi  reaming  swats  that  drank  divinely, 
And  at  his  elbow,  Souter  Johnny, 
His  ancient,  trusty,  drouthy  crony; 
Tarn  lo'ed  him  like  a  very  brither; 
They  had  been  fou  for  weeks  thegither. 
The  night  drave  on  wi'  sangs  and  clatter  ; 
And  aye  the  ale  was  growin  better ; 
The  landlady  and  Tain  grew  gracious, 
Wi'  favours  secret,  sweet,  and  precious  ; 
The  souter  tauld  his  queerest  stories  ; 
The  landlord's  laugh  was  ready  chorus  ; 
The  storm  without  might  rair  and  rustle, 
2'ain  didna  mind  the  storm  a  whistle. 

Care,  mad  to  see  a  man  sae  ha])py, 
E'en  drown'd  himsel'  amang  the  nappy  ; 
As  bees  flee  hame  wi'  lades  o'  treasure. 
The  minutes  wing'd  their  way  wi'  pleasure : 
Kings  may  be  blest,  but  Tain  was  glorious, 
O'er  a'  the  ills  o'  life  victorious  ! 

But  pleasures  are  like  poppies  spread. 
You  seize  the  flower,  its  bloom  is  shed; 
Or  like  the  snow-falls  in  the  river, 
A  moment  white— then  melts  for  ever: 


BUUNS'    POKMS.  J  7.3 

Or  like  the  borealis  race, 

That  flit  ere  you  can  point  their  place  ; 

Or  like  the  rainbow's  lovely  form 

Evanishing  amid  the  storm. — 

Nae  man  can  tether  time  or  tide  ! 

The  hour  approaches  Tani  maun  ride  ! 

That  hqjar,  o'  night's  black  arch  the  key-stane, 

That  dreary  hour  he  mounts  his  beast  in  ; 

And  sic  a  night  he  taks  the  road  in, 

As  ne'er  poor  sinner  was  abroad  in. 

The  wind  blew  as  'twad  blawn  its  last ; 
The  rattling  show'rs  rose  on  the  blast ; 
Tiie  speedy  gleams  the  darkness  swallow'd  ; 
Loud,  deep,  and  lang  the  thunder  bellow'd  : 
That  night  a  cliild  might  understand, 
The  deil  had  bushiess  on  his  hand. 

Weel  mounted  on  his  grey  mare,  Meg, 
A  better  never  lifted  leg, 
I'ain  skelpit  on  thro'  dub  and  mire. 
Despising  wind,  and  rain,  and  fire  ; 
Whiles  handing  fast  his  gude  blue  bonnet ; 
Whiles  crooning  o'er  some  auld  Scots  sonnet ; 
Whiles  glow'ring  round  wi'  prudent  cares, 
Lest  bogles  catch  him  unawares  ; 
Kirk-Alloway  was  drawing  nigh, 
Whare  ghaists  and  houlets  nightly  cry. 

By  this  time  he  was  cross  the  ford, 
Whare  in  the  snaw  the  chapman  smoor'd ; 
And  past  the  birks  and  meikle  staiie, 
Whare  drunken  Charlie  brak's  neck-bane  ; 
And  thro'  the  whins,  and  by  the  cairn, 
Wliare  hunter's  fand  the  murder'd  bairn  ; 
And  near  the  thorn,  aboon  the  well, 
Whare  Mango's  mither  hang'd  hersel. — 


Before  li'un  Doon  pours  all  his  floods; 
The  doubling  storm  roars  tlirough  the  woods 
Tiie  li.:litiiiiigs  flash  from  pole  to  pol'j  ; 
Near  and  more  near  tlie  thunders  roll  ; 
When,  t:Hninierin'_^  thro'  the  uroanin;.'  trees, 
Kirh-AUou'cuj  seem'd  in  a  bleeze  ; 
Thro'  ilka  bore  the  beams  were  ulancing  ; 
And  loud  resounded  mirtii  and  dancing.  — 


Inspiring  bold  Juhn  Barlej/corn  ! 
What  dangers  thou  canst  make  us  scorn  ! 
W^i  tippenny  we  fear  nae  evil ; 
Wi'  usqiiabae  we'll  face  the  devil ! — 
The  swats  sae  ream'd  in  Tninmie's  noddle, 
Fair  play,  he  car'd  nae  deils  a  bodle. 
But  Ma(/f/ie  stood  right  sair  astonish'd, 
Till,  by  the  lieel  and  hand  admonish'd, 
She  ventur'd  forward  on  the  light ; 
And,  wow  !  Tani  saw  an  u"co  sigiit ! 
Warlocks  and  witches  in  a  dance  ; 
Nae  cotillon  brent  new  frae  France, 
But  hornpipes,  jiiTs,  strathspeys,  and  reels, 
Put  life  and  mettle  in  their  heels. 
A  winnock-bunkcr  in  the  east, 
There  sat  auld  Niels  in  shape  o'  beast ; 
A  towzie  tyke,  black,  grim,  and  large, 
To  gie  tliem  music  was  his  charge: 
He  screw'd  the  pipes  and  gart  them  skirl, 
I'ill  roof  and  rafters  a'  did  dirl.— 
Coffins  stood  round  like  open  presses, 
Tiiat  shaw'd  the  dead  in  their  last  dresses  ; 
And  by  some  devilish  cantrip  sleight, 
Each  in  his  cauld  hand  held  a  light.— 
By  which  heroic  Tani  was  able 
To  note  upon  the  haly  table, 
A  murderer's  banes  in  gibbet-aims  ; 
Twa  span-lang,  wee,  unchristea'd  bairns; 


BIIKNS'     I'OEMS.  177 

A  thief,  new-cutted  frae  a  rape, 
Wi'  his  last  gasp  his  gab  did  gape  ; 
Five  tomahawks,  wi'  blude  red  rusted ; 
A  garter,  which  a  babe  had  strangled  ; 
Five  scimitars,  wi'  murder  crusted, 
A  knife,  a  father's  thoat  had  mangled, 
Whom  his  ain  son  o'  life  bereft, 
The  grey  hairs  yet  stack  to  the  heft ; 
Wi'  mair  o'  horrible  and  awfu', 
Which  ev'n  to  name  wad  be  unlawfu', 

As  Tammie  glowr'd,  amaz'd,  and  curious, 
The  mirth  and  fun  grew  fast  and  furious  : 
The  piper  loud  and  louder  blew  : 
The  danct.s  quick  and  quicker  flew  ; 
They  reel'd,  they  set,  they  cross'd,  they  cleekit, 
Till  ilka  carlin  swat  and  reekit, 
And  coost  her  duddies  to  the  wark, 
And  linkit  at  it  in  her  sark  ! 

Now  Tarn,  O  Tarn!  had  thae  been  queans, 
A'  plump  and  strappin'  in  their  teens  ; 
Their  sarks,  instead  o'  creeshie  flannen, 
Been  snaw- white  se'enteen  hunder  linen  ! 
Thir  breeks  o'  mine,  my  only  pair. 
That  ance  were  plush  o'  gude  blue  hair, 
I  wad  hae  gi'en  them  off  my  hurdles, 
For  ae  blink  o'  the  bonnie  burdies  ! 

But  wither'd  beldams,  auld  and  droll, 
Rigwoodie  hags  wad  spean  a  foal, 
Lowping  and  flinging  on  a  crummock, 
I  wonder  didna  turn  thy  stomach. 

But  Tarn  kenn'd  what  was  what  fu'  l)ravvli3, 
There  was  ae  winsome  wench  and  walie, 
Tliat  night  enlisted  in  the  core, 
(Lang  after  kenn'd  on  Carrick  shore  ! 
17  N 


J  78  BL'll.NS'     I'Oli.MS. 

For  mony  a  beast  to  d<'ii(l  she  shot, 
And  perish'd  mony  a  horinie  boat. 
And  shook  baitii  niuckle  eorn  and  lieur, 
And  kept  the  country  side  in  fear ;) 
Her  cutty  sark,  o'  Paisley  harn, 
That  while  a  lassie  she  had  worn, 
In  lonfjitude  tho'  sorely  scanty, 
It  was  her  best,  and  she  Avas  vanntie — 
Ah!  little  kenn'd  thy  reverend  jfrannie, 
That  sark  she  eoft  for  her  wee  Narmii', 
WV  twa  pund  Scots,  (twas  a'  her  riches,) 
Wad  ever  grac'd  a  dance  of  witches! 

But  here  my  muse  her  winct  maun  cour  ; 
Sic  flight  are  far  beyond  her  power  ; 
To  sing  how  Nannie  lap  and  fiang, 
(A  simple  jade  she  was  ajid  Strang,) 
And  how  Tarn  stood,  like  one  bewitch'd, 
And  thought  his  very  een  enrich'd  ; 
Even  Satan  glow'rd  and  fidg'd  fu'  fain, 
And  hotch'd  and  blew  wi'  might  and  main  : 
Till  first  ae  caper,  syne  anither, 
Tavi  tint  his  reason  a'  thegitlier, 
And  roars  out,  "  Weel  dore,  Cutty-sark  !" 
And  in  an  instant  a'  was  dark  : 
And  scarcely  had  he  Maggie  rallied, 
Wlien  out  the  hellish  legion  sallied. 

As  bees  biz  out  wi'  angry  fyke, 
When  plundering  herds  assail  their  byke ; 
As  open  pussie's  mortal  foes, 
When,  pop  !  she  starts  bei'ore  their  nose  ; 
As  eager  runs  the  market-crow'd. 
When  "Catch  the  thief!"  resounds  aloud  ; 
So  Maggie  runs,  the  witches  follow, 
Wi  raonie  an  eldritch  skreech  and  hollow. 

Ah,  Tarn!  ah,  Tarn!  thou'lt  get  thy  fair- 
In  hell  thev'U  roast  thee  like  a  herrin  f 


BKH.NS      I'OKMS.  179 

III  vain  thy  Kate  awaits  thy  coraiii ! 
Kate  soon  will  be  a  waefu'  woman  ! 
Now,  do  thy  speedy  utmost  Meg, 
And  win  the  key  stane*  of  the  brig  ; 
There  at  them  thou  thy  tail  may  toss 
A  rumiino-  stream  tliey  darena  cross. 
But  ere  the  key-stane  she  could  ma]<-', 
Tiie  tient  a  tail  slie  had  to  shake  !  , 

For  Nannie,  far  before  the  rest, 
Hiird  upon  nf)l)le  Maggie  prest, 
And  flew  at  Tani  wi' furious  ettle  ; 
But  little  wist  siie  Maggie's  mettle — 
Ae  spring  brou;:ht  offlier  master  halo, 
But  left  behind  her  ain  yrey  tail : 
The  carlin  elanLrlit  her  by  the  rump, 
And  left  poor  Maggie  scarce  a  stump 

Now,  wha  this  tale  o'  truth  shall  read, 
Ilk  man  and  mother's  son,  take  heed  ; 
Whene'er  to  drink  you  are  inclin'd, 
Or  cutty-sarks  run  in  your  niind, 
Think,  ye  may  buy  the  joys  ower  dear, 
Remember  Tani  o'  Shaniers  mare. 


ON  SEEING  A  WOUNDED  HAIJE  LLA]  P  BY  .ME 
WHICH   A   FELLOW   HAD   JUST   SHOT   AT. 

Inhuman  man!  curse  on  thy  barb'rous  art, 
And  blasted  be  thy  murder-aiming  eye ! 
May  never  pity  soothe  thee  with  a  siuh, 

Nor  ever  pleasure  glad  thy  cruel  heart ! 

•It  is  a  well-known  fact,  that  witches,  or  any  evil  spi- 
its,  liave  no  power  to  follow  a  poor  wight  any  fartlier  tluin 
he  middle  of  the  next  running  stream. — It  may  be  proper 
ikewise  to  mention  to  the  benighted  traveller,  that  when 
e  falls  in  with  bogles,  whatever  danger  may  be  in  his  going 
)rward,  there  is  much  more  hazard  in  turning  back. 


180  HLRNb      rOKMS. 

Go  live,  poor  wanderer  of  the  wood  and  field, 

The  bitter  little  that  of  life  remains  : 

No  more  the  thickening;  brakes  and  verdant  piainj' 
To  thee  shall  home,  or  food,  or  pastime  yield. 

Seek,  mang^led  wretch,  some  place  of  wonted  rest. 
No  more  of  rest,  but  now  thy  dyinjc  bed  ! 
The  sheltering  rushes  whistling  o'er  thy  head, 

The  cold  earth  with  thy  bloody  bosom  prest.  * 

Oft  as  by  winding  Nith,  I,  musing,  wait 
The  sober  eve,  or  hail  the  cheerful  dawn, 
I'll  miss  thee  sporting  o'er  the  dewy  lawn, 

And  curse  the  ruffian's  aim,  and  mourn  fhv  haplesj 
fate. 


ADDRESS  TO  THE  SHADE  OF  THOMSON, 

)N     CROWNING  HIS     BUST     AT    EDXAM,     KOXBr nGIISHIHB, 
WITH  BAYS. 

While  virgin  Spring,  by  Eden's  flood, 

Unfolds  her  tender  mantle  green, 
Or  pranks  the  sod  in  frolic  mood. 

Or  tunes  Eolian  strains  between : 

While  Summer,  with  a  matron  grace. 
'    Retreats  to  Dryburgh's  cooling  shade, 
Yet  oft,  delighted,  stops  to  trace 
The  progress  of  the  spiky  blade  : 

While  Autumn,  benefactor  kind. 

By  Tweed  erects  his  aged  head, 
And  sees,  with  self-approving  mind, 

Each  creature  on  his  bounty  fed  : 


burns'    I'OEMS.  IKl 


While  maniac  Winter  raj^es  o'er 
Tiie  hills  whence  classic  Yarrow  flows, 

Rousing  the  turbid  torrent's  roar, 
Or  sweeping,  wild,  a  waste  of  snows  : 

So  lontr,  sweet  Poet  of  the  year. 

Shall  bloom  that  wreath  thou  well  linst  won 
While  Scotia,  with  exulting  tear, 

Proclaims  that  Thomson  was  her  son. 


ON    THE   LA.TE 

CAPTAIN  GROSE'S  PEREGRINATIOXS 
THROUGH  SCOTLAND, 

COLLECTING   THE    ANTIQUITIES   OP   THAT    KINGDOM. 

Hear,  Land  o'  Cakes,  and  brither  Scots, 
Frae  Maidenkirk  to  Johnny  Groat's  ; 
If  there's  a  hole  in  a'  your  coats, 

I  rede  you  tent  it  : 
A  chield's  amang  you,  taking  notes. 

And,  faith,  he'll  prent  it ! 

If  in  your  bounds  ye  chance  to  light 

Upon  a  fine,  i'at,  fodgel  wight, 

O'  stature  short,  but  genius  bright, 

That's  he,  mark  weel — 
And  now !  he  has  an  unco  slight 

O'  cauk  and  keel. 

Hy  some  auld,  boulet-haunted  biggin,* 
Or  kirk  deserted  by  its  riggin, 


Viile  liis  Aiili(iuitie<  of  Scotland. 


182  burns'     I'OEMS. 

It*d  ten  to  ane  yp'll  find  liim  snufr  in 

Sonic  eldritch  part, 
W'V  deils,  they  say,  L— d  save's  !  colleagniii' 

At  some  black  art.— 

Ilk  p:haist  that  haunts  auld  ha'  or  chaumcr, 

Ye  tripsy-cransj  that  deal  in  ^lainour, 

And  you  deep-read  in  Jieirs  black  gramm;ir, 

Warlocks  and  witches ; 
Ye'll  quake  at  his  conjuring  hammer, 

Ye  midnight  b es. 

It's  tauld  he  was  a  sodger  bred. 
And  ane  wad  rather  fa'n  than  fled  ' 
But  now  he's  quat  the  spurtle  blade. 

And  dog-skin  wallet, 
And  ta'en  i\\e— Antiquarian  trade, 

I  think  they  call  it. 

lie  has  a  fouth  o'  auld  nic-nackets; 
Rusty  aim  caps  avid  jinglin'  jackets,* 
Wad  hand  the  Lothians  tliree  in  tackets, 

A  towniont  guid  ; 
And  parritch-pats.  and  auld  saut-backets, 

Before  the  Flood. 

Of  Eve's  first  fire  he  has  a  cinder ; 
-Auld  Tubalcain's  fire-sliool  and  fender  ; 
Tliat  which  distinguished  the  gender 

O'  Balaam's  ass  ; 
A  broom-stick  o'  the  witch  of  Endor, 

Weel  shod  wi  brass. 

Forbye,  he'll  shape  yon  afF,  fu'  gleg 
Tlie  cut  of  Adam's  piiilibeg; 

•    "^ide  his  Trpatise  on  Ancient  Arnaour  and  Weapons. 


r.UUNS'    i'OE.MS. 

TIu;  knife  that  iiii-ket  Abel's  craig 

He'll  prove  you  fully, 

1 1   WHS  a  fauldiii!^  joe  tele*;. 

Or  lang-kail  gullie. 

l^ut  wad  ye  see  liini  ir.  his  fflee, 
For  meikle  glee  and  fun  has  lie, 
Then  set  him  down,  and  twa  or  three 

Guid  fellows  wi'  him, 
And  i^ort,  O  port !  shine  thou  a  wee, 

And  then  ye'll  see  him  ! 

Now,  by  the  pow'rs  o'  verse  and  prose  I 
Thou  art  a  dainty  chiel,  O  Grose  I 
Whae'er  o'  thee  shall  ill  suppose. 

They  sair  niisea'  thee  ; 
I'd  take  the  rascal  by  the  nose. 

Wad  sav,  Siiame  fa'  tbe< 


TO  MISS  CRUICKSHANKS, 

A   VERY   YOUNG   LADY, 

Written  on  the  Blank  Leaf  of  a  Book,  presented 
to  her  by  the  Author. 

Beauteous  rose-bud,  young  and  ^ay, 

Blooming  in  tliy  early  May, 

Never  may'st  thou,  lovely  flow'r 

Chilly  shrink  in  sleety  show'r  I 

Never  Boreas'  hoary  path, 

Never  Eurus'  jiois'nous  breath, 

Never  baleful  stellar  lights, 

Taint  thee  with  untimely  blights  ! 

Never,  never  reptile  thief  ' 

Riot  on  thy  virgin  leaf! 

Nor  even  Sol  too  fiercely  view 

Thy  bosom  blushing  still  with  dew! 


184  burns'  poems. 

May'st  tliou  \o\vr,  sweet  crimson  (fotn, 
Richly  (leek  thy  native  stem  ; 
Till  some  eveiiinii-,  sober,  calm, 
])ropj)iri<^  (lews,  and  breathinir  balm, 
While  all  aronnd  the  woodland  riiiga, 
And  every  binl  thy  reqniem  sin{,f8 ; 
Thou,  amid  the  dirf^etul  sound, 
Shed  thy  dying  honours  round, 
And  resign  to  jiarent  earth, 
The  loveliest  form  she  e'er  gave  birth. 


ON  HEADING,  IN  A  NEWSI'AI>KH,    TIIK  DKaTII  OH 
JOHN  M'LKOD,    i:s(,. 

lirother  to  a  Yourifi  Lady,  a  particular  Fntiitl 
of  the  Author's. 

Sad  thy  tale,  thou  idle  page, 

And  rueful  thy  alarms: 
Death  tears  the  brother  of  her  love 

From  Isabella's  arms. 

Sweetly  deckt  with  pearly  dew. 

The  morning  rose  may  blow  : 
liut  cold  successive  noontide  blasts 

May  lay  its  beauties  low. 

Fair  on  Isabella's  morn 

The  sun  propitious  smiled  ; 
But,  long  ere  noon,  succeeding  (rlouda 

Succeeding  hopes  beguiled. 

Fate  oft  tears  the  bosom  cords 

That  nature  finest  strung  : 
So  Isabella's  heart  was  form'd 

And  so  that  heart  was  wrung. 


IJUUNS'    POEMS.  18c 

Were  it  in  the  pool's  power, 

Strom;  us  lu!  shares  tlie  urief 
That  pierces  Isahella's  heart, 

To  give  that  heart  relief. 

Dread  Omnipolence,  alone, 

Can  heal  tlie  wound  he  j^ave  : 
(Jan  point  tiu;  briniful  grief-worn  eyes 

To  scenes  beyond  the  grave. 

Virtue's  blossoms  there  shall  blow. 

And  fear  no  witherinjj:  l)last  ; 
There  Isabelhi's  spotless  wortii 

Shall  happy  be  at  last. 


THI::  HUMULE  PETITION  OF  URUAR  WATER, 

TO  THE  NOHLE  DUKE  OF  ATHOLU. 

My  Lord,  I  know,  your  noble  ear 

Woe  ne'er  assails  in  vain  ! 
I  jnboldiMi'd  thus,  I  beg  you'll  hear 

Your  iMinii)le  slave  complain, 
lIowsau(;y  PIiceI)us'  scorching  beams 

In  flyiui  summer-pride, 
Dry-witlu  ring,  waste  my  foamy  streams, 

And  drink  my  crjstal  tide. 

Tlie  lightly-jumping  glow'rin  fronts, 

Tb.at  thro'  my  waters  play, 
If,  in  tlieir  raiulotn,  wanton  spouts, 

They  near  the  margin  stray  ; 


•  Hruar  FulU,  in  Athole,  are  exceedinerly  pirturoaqiie  uml 
Iciiiitiful  J  but  their  ptfoct  Ik  ihiipIi  iinjiaiiHfl  hy  ilio  want  of 
li'ci'H  tiiid  shrubH. 


1,^6  BURNS      POEMS. 

If,  hapless  chance  !  they  linj?er  Ian;:;, 

I'm  scorchiiij^  up  so  -iiallow, 
They're  left  tiie  whifeninfr  stancs  aniang. 

In  gasping  death  to  wallow. 

Last  day  I  ffrat  v.i'  spite  and  teen, 

As  Poet  Burns  came  by, 
That  to  a  bard  J  ?liould  be  seen 

\Vi'  half  my  channel  dry  : 
A  panegyric  rhyme,  I  ween, 

Ev'n  as  I  was  he  shor'd  uie ; 
Put  had  I  in  my  glory  been. 

He,  kneeling,  wad  ador'd  me. 

Here,  foaming  down  the  shelvy  rocks, 

In  twisting  strength  I  rin ; 
There,  high  ray  boiling  torrent  smokes, 

Wild-roaring  o'er  a  linn  : 
Enjoying  large  each  spring  and  well, 

As  nature  gave  them  me, 
I  am,  altho'  I  say't  mysel, 

Worth  gaun  a  mile  to  see. 

Would  then  my  noble  master  please 

To  grant  my  highest  wishes, 
He'll  shade  my  banks  wi'  tow'ring  trees. 

And  bonnie  spreading  bushes; 
Delighted  doubly  then,  my  Lord, 

You'll  wander  on  my  banks, 
And  listen  mony  a  grateful  bird 

Return  you  tuneful  thanks. 

The  sober  laverock,  warbling  wild, 

Sliail  to  the  skies  aspire  ; 
The  gowdspink,  music's  gayest  child, 

Shall  sweetly  join  the  choir: 
The  blackbird  strong,  the  lintwhite  cleaj*, 

The  mavis  mild  and  mellow ; 


burns'   roK.Ms.  187 

The  robin,  pensive  autumn  cheer, 
In  all  her  locks  of  yellow  : 

This,  too,  a  covert  shall  insure, 

To  sliield  tliem  from  the  storm  ; 
And  coward  niaukin  sleep  secure, 

Low  ill  iier  grassy  form  : 
Jli-re  shall  the  shepherd  make  his  scat, 

To  weave  liis  crown  o'  flow'rs  : 
Or  find  a  sheltering  safe  retreat, 

From  prone  descending-  shovv'rs. 

And  here,  by  sweet  endearing  stealth. 

Shall  meet  the  loving  pair, 
Despising  worlds  with  all  their  wealth 

As  empty  idle  care  ; 
The  flowers  shall  vie  in  all  their  charms 

The  hour  of  heaven  to  grace, 
And  birks  extend  their  fragrant  arms 

To  screen  the  dear  embrace. 

Here  haply  too,  at  vernal  dawn. 

Some  musing  bard  may  stray, 
And  eye  the  smoking,  dewy  lawn, 

And  misty  mountain  grey  ; 
Or,  by  the  reaper's  nightly  beam, 

Mild-chequering  thro'  the  trees, 
Itive  to  my  darkly-dashing  stream. 

Hoarse  swelling*  on  the  breeze. 

Let  lofty  firs,  and  ashes  cool, 

My  lowly  banks  o'erspread, 
And  view,  deep-bending  in  the  pool. 

Their  sl;adows'  wat'ry  bed  ! 
Let  fragrant  birks,  in  woodbines  drest, 

My  craggy  clili's  adorn  ; 
And,  for  the  little  songster's  nest, 

The  close  erabow'ring  thorn. 


188  BLTRNS'    POEMS. 

So  may  old  Scotia's  darling  hope, 

Your  little  angel  band, 
Spring,  like  their  futliers,  up  to  prop 

Tljeir  honour'd  native  land  ! 
So  may,  thro'  Albion's  farthest  ken, 

To  social  flowing  glasses, 
The  grace  be — "  Athole's  honest  men, 

And  Athole's  bonnie  lassies!" 


ON 

SCARING  SOME  WATER  FOWL 

In  Loch-  Turit,  a  wild  scene  among  the  Hills  of 
Oughtertyre. 

Why,  ye  tenants  of  the  lake, 
For  me  your  wat'ry  haunt  forsake  ? 
Tell  me,  fellow-creatures,  why 
At  my  presence  thus  you  fly  ? 
Why  disturb  your  social  joys, 
Parent,  filial,  kindred  ties  ? — 
(Jommon  friend  to  you  and  me, 
Nature's  gifts  to  all  are  free  ; 
Peaceful  keep  your  dimpling  wave, 
Busy  feed,  or  wanton  lave  ; 
Or,  beneath  the  sheltering  rock, 
Bide  the  surging  billow's  shock. 

Conscious,  blushing  for  our  race. 
Soon,  too  soon,  your  fears  I  trace. 
Man,  your  proud  usurping  foe. 
Would  be  lord  of  all  below  ; 
Plumes  himself  in  Freedom's  pride, 
Tvrant  stern  to  all  beside. 


The  eagle,  from  the  clifTy  brow, 
Marking  you  his  prey  below. 


BUKNS'    rOKMS.  189 

In  his  breast  no  pity  dwells, 

Strong  necessity  corapels, 

But  man,  to  whom  alone  is  giv'n 

A  ray  direct  from  pitying  Heav'n 

Glories  in  his  heart  humane — 

And  creatures  for  his  pleasure  slain. 

In  these  savage  liquid  plains, 
Only  known  to  wand'ring  swains, 
Where  the  mossy  riv'let  strays, 
Far  from  human  haunts  and  ways  ; 
All  on  Nature  you  depend, 
And  life's  poor  season  peaceful  spend. 

Or,  if  man's  superior  might 
Dare  invade  your  native  right, 
On  the  lofty  etlier  borne, 
Man  with  all  his  pow'rs  you  scorn  ; 
Swiftly  seek,  on  clanging  winus, 
Other  lakes  and  other  springs  j 
And  the  foe  you  cannot  brave. 
Scorn  at  least  to  be  his  slave. 


WRITTEN  WITH  A  PENCIL, 

Over  the  Chimnejf-piece  in  the  parlour  of  the  Inn 
at  Kenmure,  Taymouth. 

Admiring  Nature  in  her  wildest  grace. 
These  northern  scenes  with  weary  feet  I  trace ; 
O'er  many  a  winding  dale  and  painful  steep, 
Th'  abodes  of  covied  grouse  and  timid  sheep, 
My  savage  journey,  curious,  I  pursue, 
Till  fam'd  Breadal'bane  opens  to  my  view, — 
The  meeting  cliffs  each  deep-sunk  glen  divides 
The  woods,  wild-scatter'd,  clothe  their  ample  side?  ; 


]'10  BURNS      roKMS. 

Th'  outslretchiiiK  lake,  enibosoni'd  'iiioncr  the  hills, 
Tlie  pye  with  wonder  and  aniazenienf,  lilis  ; 
The  Tay,  meand'ring  sweet  in  infant  pride, 
Tile  paiace  risinc:  on  its  verdant  side  ; 
The  lawns  wood-iVinti'd  in  Nature's  native  taste ; 
Tlie  Iiillocks  dropt  in  Nature's  careless  h.'iste ; 
The  arches,  stridinf(  o'er  the  new-born  stream  ; 
The  village,  glittering  in  the  noontide  beam — 
****** 

Poetic  ardours  in  my  bosom  swell, 

Lone  wand'ring  by  the  hermit's  mossy  cell : 

Tlie  sweeping  theatre  of  hanging  woods; 

Th'  incessant  roar  of  headlong  tumbling  floods — 

*        *        ^        *'        *        * 

Here  Poesy  might  wake  her  heaven-taught  lyre, 
And  look  through  Nature  with  creative  fire  ; 
Here,  to  the  wrongs  of  fate  half  reconcil'd, 
Misfortune's  lighten'd  steps  might  wander  wild  : 
And  Disappointment,  in  these  lonely  bounds, 
Find  balm  to  soothe  her  bitter,  rankling  wounds: 
Here  heart-struck  Grief  might  heav'nward  stielch 

her  scan, 
And  injur'd  Worth  forget  and  pardon  man. 


WRITTEN  WITH  A  PENCIL. 

Standbig  hij  the  Fall  of  Fijers,  near  Loch-itr.-^a. 

Among  the  heathy  hills  and  ragged  woods. 

The  roaring  Fyers  pours  his  mossy  floods; 

Till  full  he  dashes  on  the  rocky  mounds. 

Where,  thro'  a  shapeless  beach  his  stream  re-ounds, 

As  high  in  air  the  bursting  torrents  flow, 

As  deep-recoiling  surges  foam  below, 

Prone  down  the  rock  the  whitening  sheet  descends, 

And  viewless  Echo's  ear  astonish'd,  rends. 


burns'   rOKM.S.  JOl 

Dim-seen,  through  rising  mists  and  ceaseless  showers, 
The  hoary  cavern,  wide  surrounding,  lowers, 
Still  thro'  the  gap  tlie  strugglinir  river  toils, 
And  still  below,  the  horrid  cauldron  boils — 


OX  THE  BIRTH  OF  A  POSTHUMOUS  CHILD, 

Born  under  peculiar  Circumstances 
of  Family  Distress. 

Sweet  floweret,  pledge  o'  nieikle  love, 

And  ward  o'  niony  a  pray'r, 
What  heart  o'  stane  wad  tfiou  na  move, 

Sae,  helpless,  sweet,  and  fair. 

November  iiirples  o'er  the  lea, 

Chill,  on  thy  lovely  form  ; 
And  gane,  alas  !  the  sheltering  tree, 

Should  shield  thee  frae  the  storm. 


May  He  who  gies  the  rain  to  pour, 
And  wings  the  blast  to  blaw, 

Protect  thee  frae  the  driving  show'r. 
The  bitter  frost  and  snaw  ! 

May  He,  the  friend  of  wo  and  want, 
Who  heals  life's  various  stounds, 

Protect  and  guard  the  mother  plant. 
And  heal  her  cruel  wounds ! 

'But  late  she  flourisli'd,  rooted  fant, 
Fair  on  the  summer  morn  ; 

N()\v  freely  bends  s!ie  in  the  blast, 
Unshelter'd  and  forlorn. 


192  ntiiNs'   roEMs. 

Blest  be  tliy  bloom,  thou  lovely  gem, 
Unsheath'd  by  ruffian  iiand  ! 

And  from  thee  many  a  parent  stem 
Arise  to  deck  our  land. 


SECOND  EPISTLE  TO  DAVIE, 
A  Brother  Poet* 

AULD   NEEBOUR, 

I'm  three  times  doubly  o'er  your  debtor, 
For  your  auld-farrant  frien'Iy  letter; 
Tho'I  maun  say't,  I  doubt  you  flatter, 

Ye  speak  sae  fair ; 
For  my  puir,  silly  rymin'  clatter 

Some  less  maun  sair. 

Hale  be  your  heart,  hale  be  your  fiddle  ; 
Lang  may  your  elbock  jink  and  diddle, 
To  cheer  you  thro'  the  weary  widdle 

O'  war'ly  cares. 
Till  bairns'  bairns  kindly  cuddle 

Your  auld,  grey  hairs. 

liut,  Davie,  lad,  I'm  red  ye're  glaikit; 
I'm  tatild  the  Muse  ye  hae  negleckit : 
And  gif  it's  sae,  ye  sud  be  licket 

Until  ye  fyke ; 
Sic  hauns  as  you  sud  ne'er  be  faiket, 

Be  haint  wha  like. 


•  This  is  prefixed  to  the  poems  of  David  Sillar,  published 
at  Kilmarnock,  1789. 


HL'iiN.s'   poi:ms.  ]'J'.i 

For  mo.  I'm  on  Parniissiis'  brink, 

Rivin'  tlie  words  to  gar  them  clink; 

Wliyles  daez't  wi'  love,  whyles  daez't  wi'  drink, 

Wi' jads  or  masons  ; 
And  whyles,  but  aye  owre  late,  I  think, 

Braw  sober  lessons. 

Of  a'  the  thoughtless  sons  o'  man, 
Cominen'  me  to  tlie  Bardie  clan  ; 
Except  it  be  some  idle  plan 

O'  rhyming'  clink, 
Tlie  deil-haet,  that  I  sud  ban, 

They  ever  think. 

Xae  thought,  nae  view,  nae  scheme  o'  liviii', 
Xae  cares  to  gie  us  joy  or  grievin' ; 
But  just  the  poucliie  put  tlie  nicve  in, 

And  wiiile  ought's  there, 
Tlieu  hiltie  skiltie,  we  gae  scrievin', 

And  fasii  nae  mair. 

Leeze  me  on  rhyme !  it's  aye  a  treasure, 
My  chief,  auiaist  my  only  pleasure, 
At  hame,  a-fiel',  at  wark,  or  leisure, 

Tlie  Muse,  poor  hizzie  ! 
Tho'  rough  and  ruplocli  be  her  measure, 

Sae's  seldom  lazy. 

Haud  to  the  Muse,  my  dainty  Davie; 
The  wail'  may  play  you  monie  a  shavie  ; 
But  for  the  Muse,  she'll  never  leave  ye, 

Tho'  e'er  sae  puir, 
Na,  even  tho'  limpin  wi'  the  spavie 

Frue  door  to  door. 


194  UURNS'    POEMS. 

LINES  ON  AN  INTERVIE\y  WITH 
LORD  DAER. 

This  wot  ye  all  whom  it  concerns, 
I,  Rhymer  Rohhl,  alias  Bums, 

October  twenty-third, 
A  ne'er-to-be-lbro^otten  day, 
Sae  far  I  sprachled  up  the  brae, 

I  diuner'd  wi'  a  Lord. 

I've  been  at  drucken  writers'  feasts, 
Nay,  been  bitch-fou  'mang  godly  priests, 

Wi'  rev'rence  be  it  spoken  ; 
I've  ev'n  join'd  the  honour'd  jorum, 
When  mighty  Squireships  of  the  quorum, 

Their  hydra  drouth  did  slokeii. 

But  wi'  a  Lord— stand  out  my  shin, 
A  Lord— a  Peer— an  earl's  son  ! 

Up  higher  yet  my  bonnet ! 
And  sic  a  Lord— lang  Scotch  ells  twa, 
Our  Peerage  he  o'erlooks  them  a', 

As  I  look  o'er  my  sonnet. 

But,  oh  !  for  Hogarth's  magic  pow'r ! 
To  show  Sir  Bardie's  willyart  glow'r, 

And  how  he  star'd  and  stammer'd, 
When  goavan,  as  if  led  wi'  branks, 
An'  stumpin'  on  his  ploughman  shanks, 

He  in  the  parlour  hammei'd. 


I  sidling  shelter'd  in  a  nook, 
An'  at  his  lordship  steal't  a  look 

Like  some  portentous  omen  ; 


burns'  poems.  105 

Except  good-sense  ami  social  glee, 
An'  (what  surpris'd  me)  modesty, 

I  marked  nought  uncommon. 

I  watch'd  the  symptoms  o'  the  great, 
The  gentle  pride,  the  lordly  state. 

The  arrogant  assuming; 
The  feint  a  pride,  uae  pride  had  he. 
Nor  sauce,  nor  state,  that  I  could  see, 

]\Iair  than  an  honest  ploughman. 

Then  from  his  lordship  I  shall  learn. 
Henceforth  to  meet  with  unconcern 

One  rank  as  weel's  anotlier  ; 
Nae  honest  icorthij  man  need  care, 
To  meet  with  noble  youthful  Daer, 

For  he  but  meets  a  brotht-r. 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  LAP-DOG 
NAMED  ECHO. 

I.v  wood  and  wild,  ye  warbling  throng 

Your  heavy  loss  deplore  : 
Now  half-extinct  your  powers  of  song. 

Sweet  Echo  is  no  more. 

Ye  jarring,  screeching  things  around. 
Scream  your  discordant  joys; 

Now  half  your  din  of  tuneless  sound 
With  Echo  silent  lies. 


loo  11!'P.NS'    POEMS. 

INSCRIPTION  TO  TIIR  MEMORY 
OF  FUllGUSSON. 

HERE   LIES  ROEEUT    FEROUSSON,   POKT. 

Burn,  September  b,  Vito—U led,  October  Ki,  1774. 

No  sculptur'd  marble  here,  nor  pompous  lav, 
"  1:^0  storied  urn  nor  animated  bust," 

Tins  simple  stone  directs  pale  Scotia's  way 
To  pour  her  sorrows  o'er  her  poet's  duai. 


EPISTLE  TO  R.  GRAHAM,  ESQ. 

When  Nature  her  great  masterpiece  design'd. 
And  fram'd  her  last,  best  work,  the  human  miiul. 
Her  eye  intent  on  all  the  mazy  plan, 
She  forra'd  of  various  parts  the  various  man. 

Then  first  she  calls  the  useless  many  forth  ; 
Plain  plodding  industry,  and  sober  worth  : 
Thence  peasants,  farmers,  native  sons  of  earth, 
And  merchandise'  whole  genus  take  their  birili : 
Each  prudent  cit  a  warm  existence  finds, 
And  all  mechanics'  many  apron'd  kinds. 
Some  other  rarer  sorts  are  wanted  yet, 
The  lead  and  buoy  are  needful  to  the  net : 
Tiie  caput  viortuuin  of  gross  desires 
Makes  a  material  for  inere  kni<ihts  and  squirt-s  ; 
The  martial  phot^pliorus  is  tau^lit  to  flow, 
Siie  kneads  the  lumpisii  philosopliic  dough, 
Then  marks  tli'  unyielding  mass  with  grave  designs, 
Law,  physic,  politics,  and  deep  divines  : 
Last,  slie  sublimes  the  Aurora  of  the  poles, 
The  flashing  elements  of  female  souls. 


iJfiiNs     roi-.Ms.  1<J7 

The  oriler'd  syatc-m  fair  before  her  stood. 
Nature,  well-pleas'ti,  pronouiic'd  it  very  good  ; 
But  ere  she  gave  creatiiifr  lal)our  o'er, 
Half-jest,  she  try'd  one  curious  hibour  more. 
Some  spumy,  fiery,  ignis  fatiais  matter  ; 
Such  as  the  lightest  breafh  of  air  might  scatter  ; 
Witli  arch  alacrity  and  conscious  glee 
(Xature  may  have  her  whim  as  well  as  wp. 
Her  Houartii-art  perhaps  slie  meant  to  show  it) 
Siie  forms  the  thiiitr,  and  christens  it— a  port. 
Cieature,  tho'  oft  the  prey  of  care  and  sorrow, 
"When  blest  to-d:iy  unmindful  of  to-morrow. 
A  being  form'd  t'  amuse  his  graver  friends, 
Aduur'd  and  prais'd— and  tliere  the  homage  endu  : 
A  mortal  quite  unlit  for  Fortune's  stril'e, 
Yet  oft  the  sport  of  all  the  ills  of  life  ; 
Prone  to  enjoy  each  i)leasurc  riches  give 
Yet  haply  wanting  wherewitiial  to  live  : 
Longing  to  wipe  each  tear,  to  heal  each  groan, 
Yet  frequent  all  unheeded  in  his  own. 

But  honest  Nature  is  not  quite  a  Turk, 
She  laugh'd  at  first,  tiien  left  for  her  poor  work. 
Pitying  the  propless  cliniher  of  mankind, 
She  cast  about  a  standard  tree  to  find  ; 
And,  to  tupport  his  helpless  woodbine  state, 
AttHch'd  him  to  the  generous  truly  great, 
A  title,  and  tlie  only  one  I  claim, 
To  lay  strong  hold  for  help  on  bounteous  Graham 

Pity  the  tuneful  Muses'  hapless  train, 
Weak,  timid  landmen  on  Lile's  stormy  main! 
Tlieir  hearts  no  selfish  stern  alisorbent  stuff. 
That  never  gives — tho'  humbly  takes  enough  ; 
Tlie  little  fate  allows,  they  share  as  soon. 
Unlike  sage  proverb'd  VVifdom's  hard-wruncr  boon, 
Tiie  world  were  blest  did  bliss  on  them  depend, 
Ah,  that  "  the  frienuly  e'er  should  want  a  friend  I" 


inn  HCKNS      IMJKM.S, 

J,et  prudence  number  o'er  each  sturdy  son, 
Who  life  and  wisdom  at  one  race  begun, 
Who  feel  by  reason,  and  who  give  by  rule, 
(Instinct's  a  brute,  and  sentiment  a  fool !) 
Who  make  poor  will  do  wait  upon  I  sJiould- 
We  own  they're  prudent,  but  who  feels  they're  good  ? 
Ye  wise  ones,  hence  !  ye  hurt  the  social  eye  ! 
(iod's  iniatie  rudely  etch'd  on  base  alloy  ! 
But,  come,  ye  who  the  godlike  pleasure  know, 
Heaven's  attribute  distinguish'd — to  bestow  ! 
Whose  arms  of  love  would  grasp  the  human  race  ; 
Come  thou  who  giv'st  with  all  a  courtier's  grace  ; 
Friend  ofviy  life,  true  patron  of  my  rhymes  ! 
Prop  of  my  dearest  hopes  for  future  times. 
Why  shrinks  my  soul  half  blushing,  half  afraid. 
Backward,  abash'd,  to  ask  thy  friendly  aid? 
I  know  my  need,  I  know  thy  giving  hand, 
I  crave  thy  friendship  at  thy  kind  command  : 
But  there  are  such  who  court  the  tuneful  nine — 
Heavens  !  should  the  branded  character  be  mine  ! 
Whose  verse  in  manhood's  pride  sublimely  flows. 
Yet  vilest  reptiles  in  their  begging  prose. 
Mark,  how  their  lofty  independent  spirit 
Soars  on  the  spurning  wing  of  injur'd  merit! 
Seek  not  the  proofs  in  private  life  to  find  ; 
Pity  the  best  of  words  should  be  but  wind  !  ♦ 
So  to  heaven's  gates  the  lark's  shrill  song  ascends, 
But  grovelling  on  the  earth  the  carol  ends. 
In  all  the  clam'rous  cry  of  starving  want, 
They  dun  benevolence  with  shameless  front ; 
Oblige  them,  patronise  their  tinsel  lays. 
They  persecute  you  all  your  future  days  ! 
Ere  my  poor  soul  such  deep  damnation  stain, 
My  horny  fist  assume  the  plough  again  ; 
The  piebald  jacket  let  me  patch  once  more  , 
On  eighteen-pence  a  week  I've  liv'd  before. 
Tho',  thanks  to  Heaven,  I  dare  even  that  last  shift ! 
I  trust,  meantime,  my  boon  is  in  thy  gift : 


BURNS      POEMS.  l[\[) 

That  plcic'd  by  thee  upon  the  wish'd-for  lieight,        \ 
Where,  Man  and  Nature  fairer  in  her  sight,  f 

My  muse  may  imp    her  wing  for   some  suhlimer/ 

flight.*  y 

FRAGMENT, 

Inscribed  to  the  Right  Hon.  J.  C.  Fox. 

How  wisdom  and  folly  meet,  mix,  and  unite ; 
How  virtue  and  vice  blend  their  black  and  their  white ; 
How  genius,  tli'  illustrious  father  of  fiction, 
Confounds  rule  and  law,  reconciles  contradiction— 
I  sing  :  if  these  mortals,  the  critics,  should  bustle, 
I  care  not,  not  I,  let  the  critics  go  whistle. 

But  now  for  a  Patron,  whose  name  and  whose  glory 
At  once  may  illustrate  and  honour  my  story. 

Thou  first  of  our  orators,  firrt  of  our  wits ; 
Yet  whose  parts  and  acquirements  seem  mere  lucky 

hits; 
With  knowledge  so  vast,  and  with  judgment  so  strong, 
No  man  with  the  half  of  'em  e'er  went  far  wrong  ; 
With  passions  so  potent,  and  fancies  so  bright. 
No  man  with  the  half  'em  ever  went  quite  right  j 
A  sorry,  poor  misbegot  son  of  the  Mu.-^es, 
For  using  thy  name  offers  fifty  excuses. 

Good  L--d,  what  is  man  !  for  as  simple  he  looks, 
Do  but  try  to  develope  his  hooks  and  his  crooks ; 


•  This  is  our  Poet's  first  epistle  to  Graham  of  Fintra.  It  is 
not  equal  to  the  second;  but  it  contains  too  niucli  of  the  cha- 
racteristic vigour  of  its  author  to  be  suppressed.  A  little  more 
knowledge  of  natural  history,  or  of  chemistry,  was  wanted  to 
enable  him  to  execute  the  original  conception  correctly. 


•21)0  liUUNS'    POKMS. 

Witli  liis  depths  aiifl  his  shallows,  his  ^^ood  oi  d  Ills  evil, 
All  in  all  he's  a  problem  must  puzzle  the  devil. 

On  his  one  rulintr  passion  Sir  Pope  huiely  labours, 
That,  like  th'  old  Hebrew  walking  switch,  eats  up  its 

neifrhbours  : 
Mankind  are  his  show-box— a  friend,  would  you  know 

him? 
Pull  tlie  string,  ruling  passion  the  picture  will  shew 

him. 
What  pity,  in  rearing  so  beauteous  a  system. 
One  trifling  particular,  truth,  should  have  miss'd  hiin  ; 
For,  spite  of  Ids  fine  tlieoretic  positions. 
Mankind  is  a  science  defies  definitions. 

Some  sort  all  our  qualities  each  to  its  tribe, 
And  think  human  nature  they  truly  describe; 
Have  you  found  this,  or  t'other  ?  there.'s  more  in  th(» 

wind, 
As  by  one  drunken  fellow  his  comrades  you'll  find. 
Hut  such  is  the  flaw,  or  the  depth  of  the  plan. 
In  the  make  of  that  wonderful  creature  call'd  Man, 
No  two  virtues,  whatever  relation  they  claim, 
Nor  even  two  different  shades  of  the  same, 
Though  like  as  was  ever  twin  brother  to  brother, 
Possessing  the  one  shall  imply  you've  the  other. 

TO  DPt.  BLACKLOCK. 

Ellishind,  21  St  Oct.  178.9. 

Wow,  but  your  letter  made  me  vauntie  ! 
And  are  ye  hale,  and  weel,  and  cantie? 
I  keini'd  it  still  your  wee  bit  jaimtie 

Wad  bring  ye  to  ; 
Lord  send  you  aye  as  weei's  I  want  ye, 

And  then  ve'U  do. 


burns'  roEMs.  -201 


The  ill-thief  blaw  the  Heron  south! 
And  never  drink  he  near  liis  drouth  ! 
He  tuuld  mysel,  by  word  o'  moutli, 

He'd  tak  uiy  letter  ; 
I  lippen'd  to  the  chield  in  trouth, 

And  bade  nae  better. 


But,  uiblins,  honest  Master  Heron 
Had  at  the  time  some  dainty  fair  one 
To  ware  his  theoloji'ic  care  on, 

And  holy  study  ; 
And  tired  o'  sanls  to  waste  bis  lear  o)^, 

E'en  tried  the  body.* 

But  what  d'ye  think,  my  trusty  fier, 
I'm  turn'd  a  gauger — Peace  be  here  ! 
F'arnassian  queans,  I  fear,  I  fear, 

Ye'U  now  disdain  me, 
And  then  my  fifty  pounds  a-year 

Will  little  gain  me. 

Ye  glaiket,  gle  some,  dainty  damies, 
Wha,  by  Castalia's  wimplin'  streainie-?. 
Lowp,  sing,  and  lave  your  pretty  limhies, 

Ye  ken,  ye  ken, 
That  Strang  necessity  supreme  is 

'Mang  sons  o'  men. 

I  hae  a  wife  and  twa  wee  laddies. 
They  maun  hae  brose  and  brats  o'  dnddies  ; 
Ye  ken  yoursels  my  heart  right  }n'oud  is, 
I  med  nae  vaunt. 


•  Mr.  Heron,  author  of  the  History  of  Scotland,  and  of 
various  other  works. 


202  IJIIIN.S'     I'OJOMS. 

But  I'll  sued  besoms— thraw  sauy;h  woodies, 
Before  they  want. 

Lord  help  me  thrc  this  warld  o'  care ! 
I'm  weary  sick  o't  late  and  air! 
Not  but  I  hae  a  richer  share 

Than  niony  ithers  ; 
But  why  should  ae  man  better  fare, 

And  a'  men  brithers  ? 

Come,  Firm  Resolve,  take  thou  the  van, 
Thou  stalk  o'  carl-hemp  in  man  ! 
And  let  us  mind,  faint  heart  ne'er  wan 

A  lady  fair ; 
Wha  does  the  utmost  that  he  can, 

Will  whyles  do  mair. 

But  to  conclude  my  silly  rhyme, 
(I'm  scant  o'  verse,  and  scant  o'  time,) 
To  make  a  happy  fireside  clime 

To  weans  and  wife, 
That's  the  true  pathos  and  sublime 

Of  human  life. 

My  compliments  to  sister  Beckle  ; 
And  eke  the  same  to  honest  Lucky, 
I  wat  she  is  a  dainty  chuckle, 

As  e'er  tread  clay  ! 
And  gratefully,  my  guid  auld  cockie, 

I'm  yours  for  aye, 

Robert  Burxs. 


BURNS      I'UKMS.  203 


PROLOGUE, 

Spoken  at  the  Theatre,  Dumf'ries,  on  New-  Year's- 
Day  Evening. 

No  song  nor  dance  I  bring  from  yon  great  city 
That  queen's  it  o'er  our  taste— the  more's  tlie  pity  : 
The',  by  the  bye,  abroad  why  will  you  roam  ? 
Good  sense  and  taste  are  natives  nearer  home  : 
But  not  for  panegyric  I  appear, 
I  come  to  wish  you  all  a  good  new  year  ! 
Old  Father  Time  deputes  me  here  defore  ye, 
Not  for  to  preach,  but  tell  his  simple  story  : 
The  sage  grave  ancient  cough'd,  and  bade'me  say, 
"  Your  one  year  older  this  important  day." 
If  wiser,  too— he  hinted  some  suggestion, 
.  But  'twould  be  rude,  you  know,  to  ask  the  question  ; 
And  with  a  would-be-roguish  leer  and  wink, 
He  bade  me  on  you  press  this  one  word — "  think  1" 

Ye  sprightly  youths,  quite  flush'd  with  hope  and 
spirit, 
Who  think  to  storm  the  world  by  dint  of  merit, 
To  you  the  dotard  has  a  deal  to  say, 
In  his  sly,  dry,  sententious,  proverb  way  : 
He  bids  you  mind,  amid  your  thoughtless  rattle, 
That  the  first  blow  is  ever  half  the  battle ; 
That  tho'  some  by  the  skirt  may  try  to  snatch  him  ; 
Yet  by  the  forelock  is  the  hold  to  catch  liim  ; 
That  whether  doing,  suffering,  or  forbearing. 
You  may  do  miracles  by  persevering. 

Last,  tho'  not  least  in  love,  ye  youthful  fair, 
Angelic  forms,  high  Heaven's  peculiar  care ! 
To  you  old  Bald-pate  smooths  his  wrinkled  brow. 
And  humbly  begs  you'll  mind  tho  important— now  ! 


^{)l  )UU.\S      I'OE.MS. 

To  crown  your  happinoss  lie  asks  your  Icavf, 
And  offers  l)lis3  to  give  and  to  receive. 

For  our  sincere,  tlio'  liaply  weak  endeavours 
With  pratoful  pride  we  own  your  many  favour; 
And  liowsoe't-r  our  toii<.nies  uuiy  ill  rf^veal  it, 
Believe  our  glowing  bosoms  truly  feel  it. 


ELEGY 

ON    THE    LATE   MtS3   BURNET   OF   MONBODI>y. 

Life  ne'er  exulted  in  so  rich  a  prize 
As  Burnet,  lovely  from  her  native  skies  ; 
Nor  envious  Death  so  triiimph'd  in  a  blow, 
As  that  which  laid  tii'  accomplish'd  Burnet  low. 

Thy  form  and  mind,  sweet  maid,  can  I  forget? 

In  richest  ore  the  brightest  jewel  set ! 

In  tiiee,  high  Heaven  above  was  truest  shown, 

As  by  his  noblest  work  the  Godhead  best  is  known. 

In  vain  ye  flaunt  in  summer's  pride,  ye  groves  ; 

Thou  crystal  streamlet  with  thy  flowery  shore, 
Ye  woodland  choir  that  chant  your  idle  loves, 

Ye  cease  to  charm— Eliza  is  no  more  ! 

Ye  heathy  wastes,  imraix'd  with  reedy  fens  ; 

Ye  mossy  streams,  with  sedge  and  rushes  stord  ; 
Ye  rugged  cliffs,  o'erhan'^ing  dreary  glens, 

To  you  I  fly,  ye  with  my  soul  accord. 

Princes,  whose  cumb'rous  pride  was  all  their  worth, 
Shall  venal  lays  their  pompous  exit  hail? 

And  thou,  sweet  excellence!  forsake  our  earth, 
Aiid  not  a  muse  in  honest  grief  bewaii  ? 


IIUIINS'    I'OEMS.  -200 

We  saw  tliee  shine  in  youtli  and  beauty's  pride, 
And  vjrtui;'s  li^ht,  that  beams  beyond  the  spiiere'sj 

Hut,  like  tlie  sun  eclips'd  at  morning  tide, 
Thou  lefi'st  us  darkling  in  a  world  of  tears. 

Till'  par(Mit's  heart  that  nestled  fond  in  thee, 
That  iieart  how  sunk,  a  prey  to  grief  and  care  : 

So  deckt  the  woodbine  sweet  yon  aged  tree, 
So  from  it  ravish'd,  leaves  it  bleak  and  bare. 


THE  RIGHTS  OF  WOMAN. 

An  occasional  'Addresa  spoTien  hy  Miss  Foiitenelh 
on  her  Benefit- Night. 

While  Europe's  eye  is  ftx'd  on  mighty  things, 
The  fate  of  empires  ;iud  tlie  fall  of  kings  ; 
While  quacks  of  state  must  each  produce  his  plan, 
And  even  children  lisp  the  Rights  of  Man; 
Amid  this  mighty  fuss,  just  let  me  mention, 
The  Rights  of  Woman  merit  some  attention. 

First  in  the  sexes'  interraix'd  connexion, 
One  sacred  Right  of  Woman  is  protection. — 
TThe  tender  flower  that  lifts  its  head,  elate, 
Helpless,  must  fall  before  tiie  blasts  of  fate, 
Sunk  on  the  earth,  defac'd  its  lovely  form, 
Uidess  your  shelter  ward  th'  impending  storm.— 

Our  second  Right  — but  needless  here  to  caution, 
To  keep  that  rigiit  inviolate's  the  fashion, 
Eacli  man  of  sense  has  it  so  full  before  him, 
He'd  die  before  he'd  wrong  it — 'tis  decorum— 
There  was,  indeed,  in  far  less  polish'd  days, 
A  time,  when  rouglj  mie  man  had  naughty  ways  ; 


2O0  nUUNS'    POKMS. 

"Would  swagct^er,  swear,  gp.t  drunk,  kick  up  a  riot, 
Nay,  even  thus  invade  a  lady's  quiet — 
Now,  thank  our  stars  !  these  Gothic  times  are  fled  • 
Now,  well-bred  men — and  you  are  all  well-bred — 
Most  justly  think  (and  we  are  much  the  j?alners) 
Such  conduct  neither  spirit  wit  nor  manners. 

For  Right  the  third,  our  last,  our  best,  our  dearest, 
That  right  to  fluttering  female  hearts  the  nearest. 
Which  ev'n  the  Rights  of  Kings  in  low  prostration 
Most  humbly  own— 'tis  dear,  dear  admiration! 
In  that  blest  spliere  alone  we  live  and  move  ; 
There  t;iste  that  life  of  life— immortal  love.— 
Smiles,  glances,  sighs,  tears,  flts,  flirtations,  airs, 
'Gainst  such  an  host  what  flinty  savage  dares — 
When  awful  Beauty  joins  with  all  her  charms, 
Who  is  so  rasii  as  rise  in  rebel  arras  ? 

But  truce  with  kings,  and  truce  with  constitutions, 
With  bloody  armaments  and  revolutions  ; 
Let  Majesty  your  first  attention  summon. 
Ah!  caira!  the  Mtijesty  of  Woman! 


ADDRESS, 

Spoken  by  Miss  Fontenelle,  on  her  Benefit-Night, 
December  4,  1795,  at  the  Theatre,  DumJ'rie.s. 

Still  anxious  to  secure  your  partial  favour. 
And  not  less  anxious,  sure,  this  night,  than  ever, 
A  Prologue,  Epilogue,  or  some  such  matter, 
'Twould  vamp  ray  bill,  said  I,  if  nothing  better; 
So  sought  a  Poet,  roosted  near  the  skies. 
Told  him  I  came  to  feast  my  curious  eyes 
Said,  nothing  like  his  works  was  every  printed  ; 
And  last,  my  Prologue-business  slily  hinted. 
"  Ma'am,  let  me  t6ll  you,"  quoth  ray  man  of  rhymes, 
"  I  know  your  bent — these  are  no  laughing  times  : 


burns'  poems.  207 

Can  you— but,  Miss,  I  own  I  have  my  fears, 
Dissolve  in  pause— and  sentimental  tears  — 
"With  laden  sighs,  and  solemn  rounded  sentence. 
Rouse  from  his  slunjrgish  slumbers,  fell  Repentance ; 
Paint  Vengeance  as  lie  takes  his  horrid  stand, 
Waving  on  high  the  desolating  brand, 
Calling  the  storms  to  bear  him  o'er  a  guilty  land  ?" 

I  could  no  more— askance  the  creature  eyeing, 
D'ye  think,  said  I,  this  face  was  made  for  crying? 
I'll  laugh,  that's  poz— nay  more  the  world  shall  know 

it; 
And  so  your  servant !  gloomy  Master  Poet ! 

Firm  as  my  creed.  Sirs,  'tis  my  fix'd  belief, 
That  Misery's  another  word  for  Grief : 
I  also  think— so  may  I  be  a  bride  !  — 
That  so  much  laughter,  so  much  life  enjoy'd. 

Thou  man  of  crazy  care  and  ceaseless  sigh, 
Still  under  bleak  Misfortune's  blasting  eye  ; 
Doom'd  to  that  sorest  task  of  man  alive— 
To  make  three  guineas  do  the  work  of  live  : 
Laugh  in  Misfortune's  face — the  beldam  witcii ! 
Say  you'll  be  merry,  tho  you  can't  be  rich. 

Thou  other  man  of  care,  the  wretch  in  love, 
"Who  long  with  jiltish  arts  and  airs  hath  strove  ; 
Who,  as  the  boughs  all  temptingly  project, 
Measur'st  in  desperate  tliought— a  rope — tiiy  neck— 
Or,  where  the  beetling  clitf  o'erhangs  the  deep, 
Peerest  to  meditate  the  liealing  leap  : 
"Would'st  thou  be  cured,  thou  silly,  moping  elf? 
Laugh  at  her  follies — laugh  e'en  at  thyselt : 
Learn  to  despise  those  frowns  now  so  terrific, 
And  love  a  kinder — that's  your  grand  specific. 

To  sum  up  all,  be  merry,  I  advise  ; 
And  as  we're  merry,  may  we  still  be  wise. 


.'08  RUKNS      I'OKMS. 

VERSES  TO  A  YOUNG  LADY. 

WITH    A    I'KESENT   OF   S0N(i8. 

Heke,  wlipre  tlie  Scottish  muse  immortal  lives, 
In  sacred  strains  and  tuneful  numbers  join'd, 

Accept  the  gift ;  tho'  humble  he  who  gives, 
Rich  is  the  tribute  of  the  grateful  mind. 

So  may  no  ruffian-feeling  in  thy  breast. 
Discordant  jar  thy  bosom-cliorils  among  ; 

But  peace  attune  thy  gentle  soul  to  rest, 
Or  love  ecstatic  wake  his  seraph  song. 

Or  pity's  notes  in  luxury  of  tears, 
As  modest  want  the  tale  of  woe  reveals  ; 

While  conscious  virtue  all  the  strain  endears, 
And  heaven-burn  piety  her  sanction  seals. 


WRITTEN  ON  THE  RLANK  LEAF  OF  A 
COPY  OF  HIS  POEMS. 

Presented  to  a  Lad;/,  whom  he  had  often  Cele- 
brated under  the  name  of  Chloris. 

'Tis  friendship's  pledge,  my  young,  fair  friend, 

Nor  thou  the  gift  refuse, 
Nor  with  unwilling  ear  attend 

The  moralizing  muse. 

Since  thou,  in  all  thy  youth  and  charms, 

Must  bid  the  world  adieu, 
(A  world  'gainst  peace  in  constant  arras) 

To  join  the  friendly  few. 


burns'  roKMS.  COJ 

Since,  thy  gay  morn  of  life  o'ercast, 

Chill  came  the  tempest's  lower  ; 
(And  ne'er  misfortune's  eastern  blast 

Did  nip  a  fairer  flow'r). 

Since  life's  gay  scenes  must  charm  no  more, 

Still  much  is  left  behind  ; 
Still  nobler  wealtli  hast  thou  in  store, 

The  comforts  of  the  mind  ! 

Thine  is  the  self-approving  glow, 

On  conscious  honour's  part ; 
And,  dearest  gift  of  Heaven  below, 

Thine  friendship's  truest  heart. 

The  joys  refin'd  of  sense  and  taste. 

With  every  muse  to  rove : 
And  doubly  were  the  poet  blest 

Tliese  joys  could  he  improve. 


COPY  OF  A  POETICAL  ADDRESS  TO 
MR.  WILLIAM  TYTLER. 

With  the  Present  of  the  Bard's  Picture. 

Reverend  defender  of  beauteous  Stuart, 

Of  Stuart,  a  name  once  respected, 
A  name,  which  to  love  was  the  mark  of  a  true  heart, 

But  now  'tis  despised  and  neglected. 

Tho'  something  like  moisture  conglobes  in  my  eye. 

Let  no  one  misdeenj  me  disloyal ; 
A  poor  friendless  wanderer  may  well  claim  a  ligl, 

Still  more,  if  that  wand'rer  were  rovul. 

17  f 


•210  BUllNS      I'OE-MS. 

My  fathers  tliat  name  liave  rever'd  on  a  throne ; 

My  fathers  have  fallen  to  right  it ; 
Those  fatiiers  would  spurn  their  degenerate  son, 

That  name  should  lie  scofhngly  slight  it. 

Still  in  prayers  for  King  George  I  most  heartily  join, 
The  Queen,  and  the  rest  of  the  gentry  ; 

Be  they  wise,  be  they  foolish,  is  nothing  of  mine  ; 
Their  title's  avow'd  by  ray  country. 

But  why  of  this  epocha  make  such  a  fuss, 


But  loyalty  truce  !  we're  on  dangerous  grounrl, 
Who  knows  how  the  fashions  may  alter? 

The  doctrine,  to-day,  that  is  loyalty  sound, 
To-morrow  may  bring  us  a  halter. 

I  send  you  a  trifle,  a  head  of  a  bard, 

A  triflle  scarce  worthy  your  care  ; 
But  accept  it,  good  Sir,  as  a  mark  of  regard, 

Sincere  as  a  saint's  dying  prayer. 

Now  life's  chilly  evening  dim  shades  on  your  eye 

And  ushers  the  long  dreary  night ; 
But  you,  like  the  star  that  athwart  gilds  the  sky, 

Your  course  to  the  latest  is  bright. 


THE  FOLLOWING  POEM 

Was  written  to  a  Gentleman  icho  had  sent  him  a 
Newspaper,  and  offered  to  continue  it,  free 
of  expense. 

Kind  Sir,  I've  read  your  paper  through, 
And,  faith,  to  me,  'twas  really  new  ! 


BUil.N'S'    POEMS.  -J  II 

How  guess'd  ye,  Sir,  what  niai^t  I  wanted? 

This  iiiony  a  day  I've  grain'd  and  gaunted,         , 

To  ken  what  Frencli  mischief  was  brewiii', 

Or  what  tiie  druiiilie  Dutch  were  doiii': 

Tiiat  vile  doup-^kelper.  Emperor  Joseph, 

If  Venus  yet  had  got  his  nose  off; 

Or  liow  the  coUit'sliangie  works 

Atween  the  Russians  and  the  Turks  : 

Or  if  the  Swede,  before  he  lialt, 

Wouhl  play  auither  Charles  the  Twalt : 

If  Denmark,  any  l)ody  spak  o't. : 

Or  Poland,  wha  had  now  the  tak  o't ; 

How  cut-throat  Prussian  blades  wei'e  hingiu' : 

How  libbet  Italy  was  singin': 

If  Spaniard,  Portuguese,  or  Swif.s, 

Were  sayia'  or  tak.n'  aught  amiss  : 

(jr  how  our  merry  lads  at  hann*, 

In  Britain's  court,  kept  up  the  game  : 

How  royal  George,  the  Lord  leuk  o'er  him  ; 

Was  managing  St.  Stephen's  quorum  ; 

If  sleekit  Ciuithara  Will  was  livia', 

Or  glaikit  Charlie  got  his  nieve  in  : 

How  daddie  Burke  the  plea  was  cookin', 

If  Warren  Hastings'  neck  was  yeukiri' : 

How  cesses,  stents,  and  fees  were  rax'd 

Or  if  bare  a — s  yet  were  tax'd  ; 

The  news  o'  princes,  dukes,  and  earls. 

Pimps,  sharpers,  bawds,  and  opera-girls  ; 

If  that  daft  buckie,  Geordie  Wnles, 

Was  threshin'  still  at  hizzie's  tails. 

Or  if  he  was  grown  oughtlius  douser, 

And  no  a  perfect  kintra  cooser. 

A'  this  and  mair  I  never  heard  of; 

And  but  for  you  I  might  despair'd  of; 

So  gratefu',  back  your  news' I  send  you, 

And  pray  a'  guid  things  may  attend  vou  I 

EUislandy  Monday  Mortilny,  17i)0. 


212  burns'    I'OKMS. 


POEM  ON  PASTORAL  POETRY. 

Hail,  Poesie  !  tliou  Nymph  reservM  ! 
In  chase  o'  thee,  what  crowds  liae  swerv'd 
Frae  common  sense,  or  sunk  enerv'd, 

'Mang  heaps  o'  clavers  ; 
And,  och  !  o'er  ait  thy  joes  hae  starvM, 

'Mid  a'  thy  favours  ! 

Say,  Lassie  why  thy  train  anianpr, 
While  loud,  the  trump's  heroic  clang, 
And  sock  or  buskin  skclp  alan;? 

To  deatli  or  marriajre  : 
Scarce  ane  has  tried  the  shepherd-sanj^ 

But  wi'  miscarriage  ? 

In  Homer's  craft  Jock  Milton  thrives  ; 
Eschylus'  pen  Will  Shakspeare  drives  ; 
Wee  Pope,  the  knurlin,  'till  him  rives 

Horatian  fame  : 
In  thy  sweet  sang,  Barbauld,  survives 

Even  Sappho's  flame. 

Rut  thee,  Theocritus,  wha  matches.? 
They're  no  herd's  ballats,  Maro's  catches  : 
Squire  Pope  but  busks  his  skinklin  patclies 

O'  heathen  tatters. 
I  pass  by  hunders,  nameless  wretches, 

That  ape  their  betters. 

In  this  braw  age  o'  wit  and  lear, 
Will  nane  the  shepherd's  whistle  mair 
Blaw  sweetly  in  its  native  air 

And  rural  grace  ; 
And  wi'  the  far-fani'd  Grecian,  siiare 

A  rival  place  ? 


burns'    I'OKMS.  213 

Yes!  there  is  ane  ;  a  Scottish  callan— 
There's  ane  ;  come  Ibrrit,  lioiiest  Allan  ! 
Thou  need  na  jouk  beliint  the  Jiallan, 

A  chiel  sae  clever  ! 
The  teeth  o'  Time  may  gnaw  Tantallan, 

But  thou's  for  ever. 

Thou  paints  aiild  nature  to  the  nines, 

In  thy  sweet  Caledonian  lines  : 

Nae  gowden  stream  thro'  myrtles  twines, 

Where  Philomel, 
While  nightly  brt^ezes  sweep  the  vhies, 

Her  griefs  will  tell ! 

In  gowany  glens  thy  burnie  strays, 
Wliere  bonnie  lasses  bleach  their  claes  ; 
Or  trots  by  hazellv  sliaws  and  braes, 

Wi'  hawthorns  gray, 
Where  blackbirds  join  the  siiepherd's  lays 

At  close  o'  day. 

Thy  rural  loves  are  nature's  sel' ; 
Nae  bombast  spates  o'  nonsense  swell ; 
Nae  snap  conceits,  but  that  sweet  spell 

O'  witchin  love, 
That  charm  that  can  tlie  strongest  quell. 

The  sternest  move. 


SKETCH— NEW  YEAR'S  DAY. 

TO    MRS.    DUNLOP. 

This  day,  Time  winds  th'  exhausted  chain, 
To  run  the  twelvemonth's  length  again  : 
I  see  the  old,  bald-pated  fellow. 
With  ardent  eyes,  complexion  sallow, 


21  I  nini.Ns'   I'OF.MS. 

Adjust  the  imiinpair'il  maciiine. 
To  wl»ee^  the  equal,  dull  routine. 

The  absent  lover,  minor  heir, 
In  vain  assail  him  with  their  prayer  ; 
Deaf  as  my  friend,  he  sees  them  press, 
Nor  makes  the  hour  one  moment  less. 
Will  you  (the  Major's  with  the  hounds, 
The  happy  tenants  share  his  rounds; 
Coila's  fair  Rachel's  care  to-day, 
And  blooming;:  Keitli's  eni^aged  with  Gray) 
From  housewife  cares  a  minute  borrow— 
— Tliat  grandchild's  cap  will  do  to-morrow- 
And  join  with  me  in  moralizing. 
This  day's  f)ropitiou3  to  be  wise  in. 
First,  what  did  yesternight  deliver? 
"  Another  year  is  gone  for  ever." 
•    And  what  is  this  day's  strong  suggestion  ? 
"The  passing  moment's  all  we  rest  on. ' 
Rest  on  ! — for  what  ?  what  do  we  here  .' 
Or  why  regard  the  passing  year? 
Will  Time,  anius'd  with  proverb'd  lore. 
Add  to  our  date  one  minute  more  ? 
A  few  days  may — a  few  years  must — 
Ri'pobe  us  in  the  silent  dust. 
Then  is  it  wise  to  damp  our  bliss  ? 
Yes— all  such  reasonings  are  amiss  ! 
The  voice  of  Nature  loudly  cries, 
And  many  a  message  from  the  skies. 
That  something  iu  us  never  dies  : 
That  on  this  frail,  uncertain  state, 
Hang  matters  of  eternal  weight ; 
Tliat  future  life  in  worlds  unknown. 
Must  take  its  hue  from  this  alone  ; 
Whether  as  heavenly  glory  bright, 
Or  dark  as  misery's  woeful  night, — 
Since,  then,  my  honour'd  first  of  friends, 
On  this  poor  being  all  depends, 


IIURNS'    POKMS,  2\. 

Lf t  US  til'  important  noic  employ, 
And  live  as  those  who  never  die, 
Tho'  you,  with  days  anil  honours  crown'd, 
Witness  that  iilial  circle  round, 
(A  sight,  life's  sorrows  to  repulse, 
A  sitjht,  pale  envy  to  convulse,) 
Others  now  claim  your  chief  regard  ; 
Yourself,  you  wait  your  bright  reward. 


EXTEMPORE  OX  THE  LATE  MR.  W. 
SMELLIE, 

Author  of  the  Phllosophij  of  Natural  History,  and 
Member  of  the  Antiquarian  and  Royal  Societies 
of  Edinbargh. 

To  Crochallan  came 
The  old  cock'd  hat,  the  grey  surtout,  the  same  ; 
His  bristling  beard  just  rishig  in  its  might, 
'Twas  four  long  nights  and  days  to  shaving  night ; 
His  uncomb'd  grizzly  locks  wild  staring,  ihatch'd  ; 
A  head,  for  thought  profound  and  clear,  unmatch'd  ; 
Yet  tho'  his  caustic  wit  was  biting,  rude, 
His  heart  was  warm,  benevolent,  and  good. 


POETICAL  INSCRIPTION 

For  an  Alter  to  Independerice,  at  Kerroughtry, 
the  Seat  of  Mr.  Heron ;  lai-ittcn  in  Summery 
1795. 

Thou  of  an  independent  mind, 

With  soul  resolv'd,  with  soul  resign'd  ; 

Prepar'd  Power's  proudest  frown  to  brave, 

Who  wilt  not  be,  nor  have  a  slave ; 

Virtue  alone  who  dost  revere, 

Thy  own  reproach  alone  dost  fear, 

Approach  this  shrine,  and  wor.sliip  here. 


210  BURXS'    POEMS. 


ANSWER  TO  A  MANDATE 

Sent  hy  the  Surveyor  of  Taxes,  to  each  Farmer^ 
ordering  him  to  send  a  Signed  List  of  his 
Horses,  Servants,  Wheel-Carriages,  ^-c.  ai^d 
whether  he  was  a  Married  Man  or  a'  Bache- 
lor, and  ichat  Children  they  had. 

Sir,  as  your  mandate  did  request, 
I  send  you  here  a  faithfu'  list, 
My  horses,  servants,  carts,  and  ^raith, 
To  which  I'm  free  to  tak  my  aitih. 

Imprimis,  then,  for  carriage  cattle, 
1  hue  four  brutes  o'  gallant  mettle, 
As  ever  drew  before  a  pettle; 
My  hand-a-fore,  a  guid  auld  has-been, 
Aiid  wight  and  wilfu'  a'  his  days  been  ; 
My  han  ahin's  a  weel  gaun  fiily, 
VVha  aft  has  borne  me  harae  frae  Killie, 
And  your  auld  borough  raony  a  time. 
In  days  when  riding  was  nae  crime  : 
My  fur-a-hin  a  guid  grey  beast, 
As  e'er  in  tug  or  tow  was  trac'd : 
The  fourth,  a  Highland  Donald  hasty, 
A  d-mu'd  red-wud  Kilburnie  blastie, 
Forhye  a  cowte,  of  cowtes  the  wale. 
As  ever  ran  before  a  tail ; 
An'  he  be  spar'd  to  be  a  beast, 
He'll  draw  me  lifteen  pund  at  least. 

Wheel-carriages  I  liae  but  few. 
Three  carts,  and  twa  are  feckly  new  ; 
An  auld  wheelbarrow,  mair  for  token, 
Ae  leg  and  baith  the  trams  are  broken  ; 
I  made  a  poker  o'  the  spindle, 
And  my  auld  niither  brunt  the  trundle. 


BUllNS'    POEMS.  217 

For  men,  I've  three  mischievous  boys, 
Run-deils  for  rautin  and  for  noise  ; 
A  gadsnian  ane,  a  thresJier  t'other. 
Woe  Davoc  hauds  tlie  nowte  in  fother. 
I  rule  them,  as  I  ouglit,  discreetly, 
And  often  labour  them  completely ; 
And  aye  on  Sundays  duly  nightly, 
I  on  the  questions  tairge  them  ti'ghtly, 
Till  faith  wee  DaAOc's  grown  sjie  glet>*, 
(Tho'  scarcely  lanfrer  tlian  my  lep:.) 
He'll  screed  you  off  effectual  calihuj 
As  fast  as  ony  in  the  dwalling. 

I've  nane  in  female  servant  station, 

Lord  keep  me  aye  frae  a'  temptation  ! 

I  hae  nae  wife,  and  that  my  bliss  is, 

And  ye  hae  laid  nae  tax  on  misses  ; 

Tor  weans  I'm  mair  than  weel  contented. 

Heaven  sent  me  ane  more  than  I  wanted  ; 

My  sonsie,  smirking,  dear-bought  Bess,  i 

She  stares  the  daddie  in  the  face,  ^- 

Knough  of  ought  ye  like  but  grace.  3 

But  her,  my  bonny,  sweet,  wee  lady, 

I've  said  enough  for  her  already, 

And  if  ye  tax  her  or  her  mitiier, 

By  the  L— d  ye'se  get  them  a'  thegither  ! 

And  now,  remember,  Mr.  Aiken, 
Nae  kind  of  license  out  I'm  taking  ; 
Thro'  dirt  and  dub  for  life  I'll  paidle, 
Ere  I  sae  dear  pay  for  a  saddle  : 
I've  sturdy  stumps,  the  Lord  be  thankit ! 
And  a'  my  gates  on  foot  I'll  shank  it. 
This  list  wi'  my  ain  hand  I've  wrote  it. 
The  day  and  date  as  under  noted  ; 
Then  know  all  ye  whom  it  concerns, 
tiubacripsl  Iiuic 

KoiiKur  Btiun.s. 


lb  TUIUNS'    PUKMS. 

TO  A  YOUx\G  LADY, 

MI83   JBSSy    ,    DUMKKIRS, 

With  Books  which  the  Bard  presented  her. 

Thine  bo  the  volinnfis,  Jessy  fair, 
AikI  witli  tliem  take  the  poet's  prnyer ; 
That  fati;  may  in  her  fairest  page 
With  every  kindliest,  best  presage 
Of  future  bliss,  enrol  thy  name  ; 
With  native  worth,  and  spotless  fame, 
And  wakeful  caution  still  aware 
Of  ill — but  chief,  man's  felon  snare  ; 
All  blameless  joys  on  earth  we  find. 
And  all  the  treasures  of  the  mind — 
These  be  thy  guardian  and  reward  ; 
So  prays  thy  faithful  friend,  the  Bard. 


EXTEMPORE, 

To  Mr.  S**e,  on  refusing  to  Dine  tvith  him,  after 
having  "been  prondsed  the  first  of  Company, 
and  the  first  of  Cookery  ;  17  th  December,  1705. 

No  more  of  your  guests,  be  they  titled  or  not. 
And  cook'ry  the  first  in  the  nation  ; 

Who  is  proof  to  thy  personal  converse  and  wit, 
Is  proof  to  all  other  temptation. 


TO  MR.  S**E,  WITH  A  PRESENT  OF  A 
DOZEN  OF  PORTER. 

O,  HAD  the  malt  thy  strength  of  mind. 

Or  hops  tlie  flavour  of  thy  wit ! 
'T^ere  drink  for  first  of  human  kind, 

A  aift  that  e'en  for  S**e  were  fit. 


ni'RNs'  poE^^rs.  219 


POEM. 


Addressed  to   Mr.  Mitchell,  Colled  or  of  Ej-cixe. 
Dumfries,  1796. 

Friend  of  the  Poet,  tried  and  lerJ, 
Wha  wanting;  tliee,  mi^ht  beg  or  steal  ; 
Alake,  alake,  the  raeikle  deil 

^Yi'  a'  his  witches 
Are  at  it,  skelpin' !  jig  and  reel, 

111  my  poor  pouches. 

I  modestly  fu'  fain  wad  hint  it, 
That  one  pound  one,  I  sairly  wfint  it, 
If  wi'  the  liizzie  down  ye  sent  it, 

It  would  he  kind  ; 
And  while  my  heart  wi'  life-blood  dunted, 

I'd  bear't  in  mind. 

^o  may  the  auld  year  gang  out  moaning 
To  see  the  new  come  laden,  groaning, 
Wi'  double  plenty  o'er  the  loanin' 

To  thee  and  thine  ; 
Domestic  peace  and  comforts  crowning 

The  hale  design. 

POSTCRIPT. 

Ye've  heard  this  while  how  I've  been  licket, 
And  by  fell  death  was  nearly  nicket ; 
Grim  loun  !  he  gat  me  by  the  fecket, 

And  sair  me  slieuk  ; 
But  by  guid  luck  I  lap  a  wicket, 

And  turn'd  a  neuk. 

But  l)y  that  healtli,  I've  got  a  share  o't, 
And  by  ttiat  life,  I'm  promis'd  mair  o'l, 


'2'20  burns'   poems. 

My  hale  and  weel  I'll  take  a  care  o't 
A  tentier  way  : 

Then  fareweel  folly,  hide  and  hair  o't, 
For  auce  and  aye. 


SENT  TO  A  GENTLEMAN  WHOM  flE 
HAD  OFFENDED. 

The  friend  whom  wild  from  wisdom's  way, 
The  fumes  ot  wine  infuriate  send  ; 

(Not  moony  madness  more  astray  ;) 
Who  but  deplores  that  hapless'  friend  ? 

Mine  was  th'  insensate  frienzied  part, 
Ah,  why  should  I  such  scenes  outlive ! 

S(!enes  so  abhorrent  to  ray  heart  ? 
'Tis  thine  to  pity  and  forgive. 


POEM  ON  LIFE. 

Addressed  to  Colonel  de  Peyster^  Dumfries,  1798 

My  honour'd  Colonel,  deep  I  feel 
Your  interest  in  the  Poet's  weal ; 
Ah  !  now  sma'  heart  hae  I  to  speel 

The  steep  Parnassus, 
Surrounded  thus  by  bolus  pill, 

And  potion  glasses. 

O  what  a  canty  warld  were  it, 
Would  pain  and  care,  and  sickness  spare  it ; 
And  fortune  favour  worth  and  merit 
As  thev  det;erve  : 


burns'   pokms.  221 

(And  aye  a  rowtli,  roast  beef  and  claret ; 
Syne,  wha  wad  starve  ?) 

Dame  Life,  tho'  fiction  out  may  trick  lu-r, 
And  in  paste  gems  and  frippery  deck  her, 
Oh  !  flickering,  feeble,  and  unsicker 

I've  found  her  still. 
Aye  wavering  like  the  willow  wicker, 

'Tween  good  and  ill. 

Then  that  curst  carmagnole,  auld  Satan, 
Watches  like.b;iudrans  by  a  rattan, 
Our  sinfu'  saul  to  get  a  claut  on 

Wi'  felon  ire  ; 
Syne,  whip  !  his  tail  ye'll  ne'er  cast  saut  on  — 

He's  afi"  like  fire. 

Ah!  Nick!  ah  Nick  !  it  is  na  fair. 
First  showing  us  the  tempting  ware. 
Bright  wines  and  bonnie  lasses  rare, 

To  put  us  daft : 
Syne  weave,  unseen,  thy  spider  snare 

O'  hell's  daran'd  waft. 

Poor  man,  the  flie  aft  bizzes  by. 
And  aft  as  chance  he  comes  tliee  nigh, 
Thy  auld  daran'd  elbow  yeuks  wi' joy. 

And  hellish  pleasure  ; 
Already  in  thy  fancy's  eye, 

Thy  sicker  treasure. 

Soon  heels-o'er-gowdie !  in  he  gangs, 
And  like  a  sheep-head  on  a  tangs. 
Thy  girning  laugh  enjoys  his  pangs 

And  limrdering  wrestle, 
As,  dangling  in  the  wind,  he  hangs 

A  aibbet's  tassel. 


J--J  llUU.Nb'    ruE.MS. 

But  lest  you  tliiiik  I  a;n  uncivil, 

To  plaguci  you  with  this  draunting  driveJ, 

Abjuring  a'  intentions  evil, 

I  quat  my  pen  : 
The  Lord  preserve  us  frae  the  devil ! 

Amen !  amen ! 


ADDRESS  TO  THE  TOOTH-ACIIfi, 

My  curse'  upon  thy  venom'd  stanfr, 
That  shoots  ray  tortur'd  gums  alang ; 
And  thro'  my  luss  gies  mony  a  twang, 

Wi'  gnawing  vengeance ; 
Tearing  my  nerves  wi'  bitter  pang. 

Like  racking  engines ! 

^Vllen  fevers  burn,  or  ague  freezes, 
lihcumatics  gnaw,  or  cholic  squeezes, 
Our  neighbour's  sympathy  may  ease  us, 

AVi'  pitying  moan ; 
But  thee — thou  hell  o'  a'  diseases, — 

Aye  mocks  our  groan  ! 

Adown  my  beard  the  slavers  trickle! 
I  throw  tlie  wee  stools  o'er  the  niickle, 
As  round  the  fire  the  giirlets  keckle, 

To  see  me  loup  ; 
While,  raving  mad,  I  wish  a  heckle 

Were  in  their  doup. 

O'  a'  the  num'rous  human  dools, 

111  bar's ts,  daft  bargains,  cuit>/  stunJy.^ 

Or  worthy  friends  rak'd  i'  the  uiool^, 

Sad  sight  to  see  ! 
The  tricks  o'  knaves,  or  fash  o'  fools, 

Thour  bear'st  the  gree. 


BUKNS'    POKMS.  223 

Where'er  that  place  be  priests  ca'  htll, 
Whence  a'  the  tones  o'  mis'ry  yell, 
And  ranked  plagues  their  numbers  tell, 

In  dreadfu'  raw. 
Thou,  ToOTii-AciiE,  surely  bear'st  the  bell 

Ainang  them  a' ! 

O  thou  grim  mischief-making  chiel, 
That  gars  the  notes  of  discord  squeel, 
Till  daft  maidvind  aft  dance  a  reel, 

In  <rore  a  ^hoe-thick  :— - 
Gie  a'  the  faes  o'  Scotland's  weal 

A  towmond's  Toothe-ache. 


HOLY  WILLIE'S  PRAYER. 

0  Thou,  wha  in  the  heav'ns  dost  dwell, 
Wha,  as  it  pleases  best  thysd', 

Sends  ane  to  heav'n  and  ten  to  hell, 
A'  for  thy  glory. 

And  no  for  ony  guid  or  ill ' 

They've  done  afore  thee. 

1  bless  and  praise  thy  matchless  might, 
Whan  thousands  thou  hast  left  in  night, 
That  I  am  here  afore  thy  sight, 

For  gifts"  an'  grace, 
A  burning  and  a  shinin'  light, 
To  a'  this  place, 

V/hat  was  I,  or  ray  generation, 
That  I  should  get  such  exaltation  ? 
I,  wha  deserve  sic  just  damnation, 

For  broken  laws, 
Five  thousand  years  'fore  my  creatiou, 

Thro'  Adam's  cause. 


2'2i  HLII.NS'     I'OKMS. 

When  frae  my  raitlier's  womb  I  fell, 
Thou  mi;j;ht  hae  plunged  me  in  hell, 
To  gnash  my  gums,  to  weep  auil  wail, 

In  burnhig  lake, 
Where  damned  Devils  roar  and  yell, 

Chain'd  to  a  stake. 

Yet  I  am  here  a  cliosen  sample, 

To  show  thy  grace  is  great  and  ample  ; 

I'm  here  a  pillar  in  thy  temple, 

Strong  as  a  rock, 
A  guide,  a  buckler,  an'  example 

To  a'  thy  flock. 

O  L— d  thou  kens  what  zeal  I  bear, 
Wiien  drinkers  drink,  and  swearers  swear, 
And  singing  there,  and  dancin  here, 

Wi'  great  an'  sraa', 
For  I  am  keepit  by  thy  fear, 

Free  frae  them  a'. 

But  yet  O  L— d  !  confess  I  must, 
At  times  I'm  fash'd  wi'  fleshly  lust, 
And  sometimes  too,  wi'  wardly  trust, 

Vile  self  gets  in  ; 
But  thou  remembers  we  are  dust, 

Defil'd  in  sin. 


Besides',  I  farther  maun  allow, 

Wi'  Lizzie's  lass,  three  times  I  trow  ; 

But  L— d,  that  Friday  I  was  fou  ; 

When  I  came  near  her, 
Or  else,  thou  kens,  thy  servant  trup 

Wad  ne'er  hae  steer'd  her. 

Maybe  thou  lets  this  fleshly  thoni, 
Beset  thy  servant  e'en  and  morn. 


burns'  roEMS.  225 

Lest  he  owre  hip:li  and  proud  should  turn, 
'Cause  he's  sae  gifted ; 

I  f  Stie,  thy  han'  maun  e'en  be  borne, 

Until  thou  lift  it. 

L— d  bless  thy  chosen  in  this  place, 
For  here  thou  hast  a  chosen  race ; 
But  G-d  confound  tlieir  stubborn  face, 

And  blast  their  name, 
Wha  bring  thy  elders  to  disgrace, 

An'  public  shame. 

L — d,  mind  G — n  H n's  deserts, 

He  drinks,  an'  swears,  an'  plays  at  cartes, 

I I  e  has  sae  monie  takin  arts, 

Wi'  grit  and  sma', 
Trae  G— d's  ain  priest  the  people's  hearts 
He  steals  awa'. 

And  when  we  chasten'd  him  therefore, 
Thou  kens  how  he  bred  sic  a  splore 
As  set  the  warld  all  in  a  roar 

O'  laughin  at  us ; 
Curse  thou  his  basket  and  his  store. 

Kail  an'  potatoes. 

L — d,  hear  my  earnest  cry  an'  pray'r, 

Against  that  presbytery  o'  Ayr ; 

Tliy  strong  riglit  hand,  L — d  make  it  biire, 

Upo'  their  heads, 
L — d,  weigh  it  down,  and  dinna  spare, 

For  their  misdeeds. 

O  L— d,  my  G-d,  that  glib-tongu'd  A n. 

My  vera  heart  an'  saul  are  quakin, 

To  think  how  we  stood  sweatin',  shakin', 

And  p — d  wi'  dread, 
17  (i 


•226  BURNS      POEMS. 

While  he  wV  hangiii'  lip  and  snakin', 
Held  up  his  head. 

L— d,  in  the  day  of  vengeance  try  hitn, 
L — d,  visit  them  whu  did  employ  him, 
An'  pass  not  in  thy  mercy  hy  'em, 

Nor  hear  their  pray'r; 
But,  for  thy  people's  sake,  destroy  'em, 

And  dhma  spare. 

But,  Lord,  remember  me  and  mine 
Wi'  mercies  temp'ral  and  divine, 
That  I  for  gear  and  grace  may  shine, 

Excell'd  by  nana, 
And  a'  the  glory  shall  be  thine. 

Amen,  amen. 


EPITAPH  ON  HOLY  WILLIE. 

Here  Holy  Willie's  sair-worn  clay 

Takes  up  its  last  abode; 
His  saul  has  ta'en  some  other  way, 

I  fear,  the  left-hand  road. 

Stop !  there  he  is  as  sure's  a  gun, 

Poor  silly  body,  see  him  ; 
Nae  wonder  he's  as  black's  the  gran, 

Observe  wha's  standin'  wi'  him. 

Your  brunstane  devilship,  I  see. 
Has  got  him  there  before  ye  ; 

But  baud  your  nine-tail  cat  a  wee, 
Till  ance  you've  heard  my  story. 

Your  pity  I  will  not  implore, 

For  pity  ye  hae  nane  ; 
Justice,  alas  !  has  gi'en  him  o'er, 

And  mercy's  day  is  gaen. 


BL'RNS'    POEMS.  227 

But  hear  me,  Sir,  Deil  as  ye  are, 

Look  something"  to  your  credit 
A  coof  like  liiin  wad  stain  your  name, 

If  it  were  keut  ye  did  it. 


THE   KIRK'S   ALARM,* 


Orthodox,  Orthodox,  wha  believe  in  John  Knox, 
Let  me  sound  an  alarm  to  your  conscience  : 

There's  a  heretic  blast  been  blawn  in  the  wast ; 
That  what  is  no  sense  must  be  nonsense. 

Dr.  Mac,t  Dr.  Mac,  you  should  stretch  on  a  rack, 

To  strike  evil-doers  wi'  terror; 
To  join  faith  and  sense  upon  any  pretence, 

Is  heretic,  damnable  error. 

Towi  of  Ayr,  Town  of  Ayr,  it  was  mad,  I  declare, 

To  meddle  wi'  mischief  a-brewing  ; 
Provost  John  is  still  deaf  to  the  church's  relief, 

And  orator  BobJ  is  its  ruin. 

D'rymple  mild,§  D'rymple  mild,    tho'  your  heart's 
like  a  child, 

And  your  life  like  the  new-driven  snaw, 
Yet  that  winna  save  ye,  auld  satan  must  have  ye, 

For  preaching  that  three's  ane  an'  twa. 

Rumble  John,||  Rumble  John,  mount  the  steps  wi'  a 
groan. 
Cry  the  took  is  with  heresy  cramm'd  ; 


*  This  Poem  was  written  a  short  time  after  the  publica- 
tion of  Mr.  M'Gill's  Essays. 
tDr  M'Gill.    jR-tA-k-n.    ^Mr.D e.     ||  Mr,  R-ss-U. 


228  burns'  poems 

Tlit'ii  lug  out  the  ladle,  di^al  brimstone  like  adle, 
And  roar  every  note  of  the  damn'd. 

Simper  James,*  Sinii)?r  Jamc,  leave  the  fair  Killie 
dames, 

There's  a  holier  chase  in  your  view  ; 
I'll  lay  on  your  head,  that  the  pack  ye'Il  soon  lead, 

For  puppies  like  you  there's  but  few. 

Singet  Sawney,t  Singet  Sawney,  are  ye  huirding  the 
penny. 

Unconscious  what  evils  await ; 
Wi'  a  jump,  yell,  and  howl,  alarm  every  soul, 

For  the  foul  Thief  is  just  at  your  gate. 

D.iddy  Auld,t  D.iddy  Auld,  there's  a  tod  in  the  fauld, 

A  tod  meikle  wuur  than  the  Clerk  ; 
Tiio'  ye  can  do  linle  skaith,  ye'Il  he  in  at  the  death. 

And  gif  ye  cauna  bite  ye  may  bark. 

Davie  Bluster,^  Davie  Bluster,  if  for  a  saint  ye  do 
muster. 

The  corps  is  so  nice  of  recruits : 
Yet  to  worth  let's  be  just,  royal  blood  ye  might  boast, 

If  the  ass  was  the  king  of  the  brutes. 

Jamy  Goose,]]  Jamy  Goose,  ye  hae  made  but  tooni 
roose. 

In  hunting  the  wicked  Lieutenant ; 
But  the  Doctor's  your  murk,  for  the  L— d's  haly  ark, 

He  has  cooper'd  and  ca'd  a  wrang  pin  iii't. 

Poet  Willie,!  Poet  Willie,  gie  the  Doctor  a  volley, 
Wi'  your  Liberty's  Chain  and  your  wit ; 


*  Mr.  M'K— y.    t  Mr,  M y.    J  Mr.  A— d, 

j  iMr.  G 1  )f  Ochiltree.     H  Mr.  Y g  of  ('(iinmock. 

If  Mr.  P— b— s  of  Ayr. 


UUltiNS'    l»OKMS.  Q-20 

OVr  Pegasus'  side  ye  ne'er  laid  astride. 
Ye  but  smelt,  inun,  the  place  where  he  sh-t. 

Andro  Gouk,*  Andro  Gouk,  ye  may  slander  the  hook, 
And  the  book  not  tiie  waur,  let  me  tell  ye  ! 

Ye  are  rich,  and  look  hi^,  but  lay  by  hat  and  \vi'^, 
And  ye'll  hae  a  calf's  liead  o'  sma'  value. 

Barr  Steenie.t  Barr  Steenie,  what  mean  ye  ?  what 
mean  ye  ? 

If  ye'll  meddle  nae  mair  wi'  the  matter, 
\'e  may  hae  some  pretence  to  havlns  and  sense, 

Wi'  people  wha  ken  ye  nae  better. 

Irvine  side,t  Irvine  side,  wi'  your  turkey-cock  pride, 

Of  manhood  but  sma'  is  your  share  ; 
Ye've  the  tiuure,  'tis  true,  even  your  faes  will  allow, 

And  your  friends  they  dare  grant  vou  nae  mair. 

Muirland  Jock,§>   JMuirland   Jock,    when    the    L-il 
makes  a  rock 

To  crush  Common  Sense  for  her  sins. 
If  ill  manners  were  wit,  there's  no  mortal  so  fit 

To  confound  the  poor  Doctor  at  ance. 

Holy  Will,||  Holy  Will,  there  was  wit  i'  your  skull, 
AVhen  ye  pilfer'd  the  alms  o'  the  poor; 

The  timmer  is  scant,  when  ye're  ta'en  for  a  saunt, 
Wha  should  swing  in  a  rape  for  an  hour. 

Calvin's  sons,  Calvin's  sons,  seize  your  spir'tual  guns, 

Ammunition  ye  never  can  need  ; 
Your  hearts  are  the  stuff,  will  be  powther  enough, 

And  vour  skulls  are  storehouses  o'  lead. 


•  Dr.  A.  M II.  t  Mr,  S ii  Y— tr  of  Ban 

X  Mr.  S 1)  of  Guii-ton.     j  Mi.  S  -  il.     ||  .ia  Kiderin  M- 


230  jtruNs'   I'OKMs. 

poet  Burns,   Poet   Bums,  \vi'  your  priest-skelping 
turns. 

Why  desert  ye  your  auld  native  sliire  ?  | 

Your  muse  is  a  gipsie,  e'en  tlio'  she  were  tipsie, 

Slie  cou'd  ca'  us  uae  waur  tlian  we  are. 


LETfER  TO  JOHN  GOUDIE, 

KILMARNOCK, 

On   the  Publication  of  his  EsaaifH. 

O  GouDiE  !  terror  of  the  Whigs, 
Dread  of  black  coats  and  rev'rend  wigs-, 
Sour  bigotry,  on  lier  last  legs, 

Girnin'  looks  back, 
Wishing  the  ten  Egyptian  plagues 

Wad  seize  you  quick. 

Poor  gapin',  glowrin'  Superstition, 
Waes  rae  !  she's  in  a  sod  condition  ; 
Fly  I   bring  Black- Jock,  her  state  physician, 

To  see  her  w-ter  ; 
Alas  !  there's  ground  o'  great  suspicion 

She'll  ne'er  get  better. 

Auld  Orthodoxy  lang  did  grapple 
But  now  she's  got  an  unco  ripple, 
Haste,  gie  her  name  up  i'  the  chapel, 

Nigh  unto  death  ; 
See,  how  she  fetches  at  tlie  thrapple, 

And  gasps  for  breath. 

Enthusiasm's  past  redemption, 
Gaen  in  a  galloping  consumption. 
Not  a'  the  quacks,  wi'  a'  their  gumption, 
Will  ever  mend  lior, 


DIKNS'    I'UK.MS.  231 

Her  feeble  pulse  ffies  strong  presumption 
Death  soon  will  end  lier. 

'Tis  you  and  Taylor*  are  the  chief. 
Wha  are  to  blanie  for  this  mischief; 
But  gin  the  Lord's  ain  fouk  gat  leave, 

A  toom  tar-barrel 
An'  twa  red  peats  wad  send  relief, 

And  end  the  quarrel. 


THE   TWA    IIEHDS.t 

O  a'  ye  pious,  godly  flocks, 
Weel  fed  on  pastures  orthodox, 
Wha  now  will  keep  you  frae  the  fox, 

Or  worrying  tykes. 
Or  wha  will  tent  the  waifs  and  crocks 

About  tlie  dykes  ? 

Tiie  twa  best  Herds  in  a'  the  wast, 
That  e'er  gae  gospel  horn  a  blast, 
These  five-and-twenty  simmers  past, 

Oh !  d'ool  to  tell, 
Ha'e  had  a  bitter,  black  out-cast 

Atween  theiusel. 

O,  M y,  man,  and  wordy  R II, 

How  could  you  raise  so  vile  a  bustle, 
Ye'U  see  how  New-Light  Herds  will  whistle, 
And  think  it  fine  ! 


•  Dr.  Taylor,  of  Norwich, 
t  This  piece  was  among  the  first  of  our  Author's  protluc 
tions  which  he  submitted  to  the  public;  and  was  occasioned 
by  a  dispute  between  two  Clergymen,  near  Kilmarnock. 


232  u urns'  poems. 

Tlie  L — d's  cause  ne'er  fi^ot  sic  a  twiatlc, 
Sin'  1  hii'e  min'. 

O,  Sirs  !  whae'er  would  ha'e  expeckil. 
Your  duty  ye  wad  sae  nejjleckit, 
Ye  wha  were  ne'er  by  laird  respeckit ! 

To  wear  the  plaiu, 
But  by  the  brutes  themselves  eleckit, 

To  be  their  guide. 

What  flock  wi'  M y's  flock  could  rank, 

Sae  hale  and  hearty  every  shank, 
Nae  poison'd  sour  Arminian  stank, 

He  let  them  taste, 
Frae  Calvin's  well,  ay  clear,  they  drank, 

O  sic  a  feast ! 

The  thumraart  wil'-cat,  brock,  and  tod, 
Weel-kenn'd  his  voice  thro'  a'  the  wood, 
He  smelt  tlieir  ilka  hole  and  road, 

Baith  out  and  in, 
And  weel  he  lik'd  to  shed  their  bluid. 

And  sell  their  skin. 

What  Herd  like  R 11  tell'd  his  tah-. 

His  voice  was  heard  thro'  muir  and  dale, 
He  kenn'd  the  Lord's  sheep,  ilka  tail 

O'er  a'  the  hei^ifht, 
And  saw  gin  they  were  sick  or  hale. 

At  the  first  sight. 

He  fine  a  mangy  sheep  could  scrub, 

Or  nobly  fling  the  gospel  club, 

And  New- Light  Herds  could  nicely  drub, 

Or  pay  their  skin. 
Could  shake  them  o'er  the  burning  dub  ; 

Or  heave  them  in. 


buu.Ns'   I'OEMS.  233 

Sic  Iwa  ! — Oil !  do  I  live  to  sec't, 
Sic  famous  twa  should  disagreet, 
An'  names,  like  villain,  hjpocrite, 

Ilk  it  her  gi'eri, 
While  iVew-Light  Herds,  wi'  laughin'  spite 

Say  neither's  liein' ! 

A'  ye  wlia  tent  the  gospel  fauld, 

Tiiere's  D n  deep,  and  P s  shaul, 

But  chiefly  thou,  apostle  A d, 

We  trust  in  thee. 
That  thou  wilt  work  them,  hot  and  can  Id, 

Till  they  agree. 

Consider,  Sirs,  how  we're  beset. 
There's  scarce  a  new  Herd  that  we  gej, 
But  comes  Irae  'mang  that  cursed  set, 

I  winna  name ; 
I  hope  frae  heav'n  to  see  them  yet 

In  fiery  flame. 

D e  has  been  lang  our  fae. 

M'G 11  has  wrought  us  nieikle  wae, 

And  that  curs'd  rascal  ca'd  M'Q e, 

And  baith  the  S 9 

That  aft  liae  made  us  black  and  blae, 

Wi'  vengefu'  paws. 

Auld  W w  lang  has  hatch'd  mii^cliief, 

We  thought  ay  death  would  bring  relief. 
But  he  has  gotten,  to  our  grief, 

Ane  to  succeed  him, 
A  chield  wlia'll  soundly  buff  our  beef  • 

I  meikle  dread  him. 

And  monie  a  ane  that  1  could  tell, 
Wha  fain  would  openly  rebel. 


234  Br  HNS      I'CJKMS. 

Forbye  turn-coats  aniang  oiirsel, 
There  S— h  for  ane, 

I  doubt  he's  but  a  Krey-nick  quill, 
An'  that  ye'U  tin'. 

()  I  a'  ye  flocks,  o'er  a'  the  hills, 

By  mosses,  meadows,  moors,  and  fells, 

Come  join  your  counsel  and  your  skills, 

To  cowe  the  lairds, 
And  get  the  brutes  the  power  themsels, 

To  choose  their  Herds. 

Then  Orthodoxy  yet  may  prance. 
And  Learning  in  a  woody  dance, 
And  that  fell  cur  ca'd  Comraen  Sense, 

That  bites  sae  sair, 
Be  banish'd  o'er  tiie  sea  to  France  : 

Let  him  bark  there. 

Then  Shaw's  and  D'rymple's  eloquence 

M'G H's  close  nervous  excdlencf^, 

M*  Q— 's  pathetic,  manly  sense, 

And  guid  M'M h 

WV  S— h,  wha  thro'  the  heart  can  glance, 

May  a'  pack  aff. 


ON  SENSIBILITY. 

TO    MY   DEAR   AND    MUCH-HONOUKED    Fill  END 
MRS.    DUXLOP,   OF    DUNLOP. 

Sensibility,  how  charmhig. 

Thou,  my  friend,  canst  truly  tell; 

JJut  distress  with  horrors  arming. 
Thou  hast  also  known  too  well  I 


burns'  I'oivMS.  235 

Fairest  flower,  hdinld  the  lily, 

Blooniinj:i:  in  the  sdiiny  ray  ; 
Let  the  blast  sweep  o'er  the" valley, 

See  it  prostrate  on  the  clay. 

Hear  the  wood- lark  charm  the  fprest, 

Telline^  o'er  his  little  joys  ; 
Hapless  bird  !  a  prey  the  surest, 

To  each  pirate  of  the  skies. 

Dearly  hoiifrht  the  hidden  treasure, 

Finer  feeliniis  can  bestow  ; 
Chords  that  vibrate  sweetest  pleasure, 

Thrill  the  deepest  notes  of  woe. 


SONNET, 

Writteyi  0)1  tJte2otk  of  Jammry,  179^,  iJie  Birth- 
day of  the  Author,  on  hearing  a  Thrush  sing  in 
a  Morning  Walk. 

Sing  on,  sweet  thrush,  upon  the  leafless  bough  ; 

Sing  on,  sweet  bird,  I  listen  to  thy  strain  ; 

See  aged  Winter,  'mid  his  surly  reign, 
At  thy  blythe  carol  clears  his  fiirrow'd  brow. 

So  in  lone  Poverty's  dominion  drear. 
Sits  meek  Content  with  light  unanxious  heart, 
Welcomes  the  rai)id  moments,  bids  them  part, 

Nor  asks  if  they  bring  aught  to  hope  or  fear. 

I  thank  thee,  Author  of  this  opening  day  ! 
Thou  whose  brii^ht  sun  now  gilds  yon  orient  skies  I 
Riches  denied,  thy  boon  was  purer  joys, 

What  wealth  could  never  aive  nor  take  away  I 


•j;](3  m;uNs    i-ukms. 

Yet  coino  tlioti  child  of  poverty  and  can* ; 
The  mite  liiiih  Iluixv'n  bestow'd,  that  mite  \\itli  llioe 
I'll  share. 


TO    THK 

GUIDWIFE  OF  WAUCHOPE-HOUSE, 

IN     ANSWER    TO    AN    EPISTLii   WHICH     SHB     HAD 
SENT   THE    AUTHOR. 

GUIDWIFE, 

I  MIND  it  weel  in  early  date, 

Wlien  I  was  beardless,  young,  and  blate, 

And  fii^t  could  thresh  the  barn  j 
Or  baud  a  yokin  at  the  pleugh  ; 
An'  tlio'  ibrfoimhten  sair  enough, 

Yet  unco  proud  to  learn  ; 
Wlien  first  aman.;;  the  yellow  corn 

A  man  I  reckon 'd  was, 
And  wi'  the  lave  ilk  inerry  morn 
Could  rank  my  rig  and  lass. 
Still  shearing  and  clearing 
The  tither  stooked  raw, 
Wi'  claivers,  an'  haivers, 
Wearing  the  day  awa. 

E'en  then,  a  wish,  I  mind  its  pow'r  — 
A  wish  that  to  njy  latest  hour 

Shall  strongly  heave  my  breast  ~ 
That  I  for  poor  auld  Scotland's  sake 
SoMie  usefu'  pl;ni  or  bcnk  could  make, 

Or  sing  a  sang  at  least. 
The  rough  burr-thissle,  spreading  wide 

Amang  the  bearded  bear, 
I  turn'd  the  wceder-clips  aside, 

And  sjjur'd  the  synibol  dear; 


UURNS      POEMS,  2'17 

No  nation,  no  station, 

Mv  envy  ne'er  could  raise, 
A  Scot  still,  but  blot  still, 

I  knew  nae  higher  praise. 

But  still  the  elements  o'  sanp; 

In  formless  jumble,  right  an'  wranf', 

Wild  floated  in  my  brain  ; 
Till  on  that  har'st  I  said  before, 
IMy  partner  in  the  meriy  core, 

She  rous'd  the  forrahig  strain  : 
I  see  her  yet,  the  sonsie  quean, 

That  lif^hted  up  her  jingle, 
Iler  witchin  smile,  her  pauky  e'en 
That  gart  my  heart-strings  tingle  ^ 
I  fired,  uispired, 

At  every  kindling:  keek, 
But  bashing,  and  dasliiug, 
I  feared  ay  to  speak. 

Health  to  the  sex,  ilk  guid  chiel  says, 
Wi'  merry  dance  in  winter-days, 

An'  we  to  share  in  common  : 
The  gust  o' joy,  the  balm  of  woe, 
The  saul  o'  life,  the  heav'n  below, 

Is  rapture-giving  woman. 
Ye  surly  sumphs,  who  hate  the  name, 

Be  mindfu'  o'  your  mither  : 
She,  honest  woman,  may  think  shame 
That  ye're  connected  with  her. 
Ye're  wae  men,  ye're  nae  men, 
That  slight  the  lovely  dears  ; 
To  shame  ye,  disclaim  ye, 
Ilk  honest  birkie  swears. 

For  you  nae  bred  to  barn  or  byre, 
"S\'i, a' sweetly  tune  the  Scottish  lyre, 
Tiianks  to  you  for  your  line : 


23S  BIJIINS'    POKMS. 

The  marled  plaid  ye  kindly  spare, 
By  me  should  '^fratefully  be  ware  ; 

'Twad  please  me  to  tlie  Nine. 
I'd  be  mair  vauntie  o'  my  hap, 

Douce  hin<iinjj:  o'er  my  curple. 
Than  ony  ermine  ever  lap, 
Or  proud  imperial  purple, 

Fareweel  then,  lang  heal  then, 

An'  plenty  be  your  fa' : 
May  losses  and  crosses 
Ne'er  at  vour  hallan  ca'. 
March,  \W.        '  R.  Hr:HNS. 


TO    J.    RANKEN, 

On  Ms  Writiuff  to  the  Author  that  a  Girl  wiis 
with  child  by  him. 

I  AM  a  keeper  of  the  law 

In  some  sma'  points,  altho'  not  a' ; 

Some  people  tell  me  gin  I  fa', 

Ae  way  or  ither. 
The  breaking  of  a  point,  tho'  sma', 

Breaks  a  thegither. 

I  hae  been  in  for't  ance  or  twice, 
And  winna  say,  o'er  far  for  thrice, 
Yet  never  met  witli  that  surprise 

Tliat  broke  my  rest, 
But  now  a  rumour's  like  to  rise, 

A  whaup's  i'  the  nest. 


burns'  poems.  239 


ADDRESS 

TO     AN      ILLEGITIMATE      CHILI). 

Thou's  welcome  wean,  niischanter  fa'  me, 
If  ought  of  thee,  or  of  thy  mammy, 
Shall  ever  danton  me,  or  awe  me. 

My  sweet  wee  lady, 
Or  if  I  blush  when  thou  shalt  ca'  me 

Tit-ta  or  daddy. 

Wee  image  of  my  bonny  Betty, 
I  fatherly  will  kiss  an'  daut  tliee, 
As  dear  an'  near  my  heart  I  set  thee, 

Wi'  as  gude  will 
As  a'  the  priests  had  seen  me  get  thee 

That's  out  o'  hell. 

What  tho'  they  ca'  me  fornicator : 
And  tease  my  name  in  kintry -clatter  : 
The  mair  they  tank  I'ni  kent  the  better, 

K'en  let  them  clash  ; 
An  auld  wife's  tongue's  a  feckless  matter 

To  gie  ane  fash. 

Sweet  fruit  o'  mony  a  merry  dint. 

My  funny  toil  is  now  a'  tint, 

Sin'  thou  came  to  the  warl'  asklent, 

Which  fools  may  scoff  at ; 
In  my  last  plack  thy  part's  be  in't — 

The  better  half  o't. 

An'  if  thou  be  what  I  wad  hae  thee, 
An'  tak  the  counsel  I  shall  gie  thee, 
A  lovin  father  I'll  be  to  thee. 

If  thou  be  spar'd  ; 


10  BURNS      I'OEMS. 

Tliro'  a'  the  cliildish  years  I'll  e'e  tliee, 
An'  thiuk't  weel  ward. 

Gude  grant  that  thou  may  ay  inherit 
Thy  mither's  person,  prace,  an'  merit, 
And  thy  poor  worthless  daddy's  spirit, 

Without  his  failins, 
'Twill  please  me  mair  to  hear  an'  see't, 

Tiian  stocket  mailens. 


TO   A   TAILOR, 

///    Answer  to  an  Ephlle  which  he  had  liptit  the 
Author. 

What  ails  ye  now,  ye  lousie  b— h, 
To  thresh  nay  back  at  sic  a  pitch? 
Losh,  man !  liae  mercy  wi'  your  natcli, 

Your  bodkin's  bauld, 
I  did  nae  suffer  half  sae  much 

Frae  Daddie  Auld. 


What  tho'  at  times  when  I  grow  crouse, 
I  jjrie  their  waraes  a  random  pouse, 
Is  that  enough  for  you  to  souse 

YouV  servant  sae  ? 
Gae  mind  your  seam,  ye  prick  the  louse 

An'  jag  the  flae. 

King  David,  o'  poetic  brief, 

Wrouffht  'mang  the  lasses  sic  mischief 

As  fiU'd  his  after  liie  wi'  grief 

An'  bloody  rants, 
An'  yet  he's  rank'd  amang  the  chief 

O'  lang  svne  saunts. 


burns'  poems.  2-il 

And  inaybp,  Tain,  for  a'  my  cants. 
My  wicked  rliyincs,  an'  drucken  rants, 
I'll  gie  auld  cloven  Clooty's  haunts 

An  unco  sHp  yet. 
An'  snuyly  git  amanp^  the  saunts, 

At  Davie's  hip  yet. 

But  fpgs  the  Session  says  I  raaun 

Gae  fa'  upo'  anitlier  plan. 

Then  garren  lasses  cowp  the  cran 

Clean  heels  owre  body, 
And  sairly  tliole  their  mither's  ban 

Afore  the  howdy. 

This  leads  me  on,  to  tell  for  sport, 
How  I  did  with  the  Session  sort — 
Auld  Clinkum  ;it  the  inner  port 

Cry'd  three  times  "  Robin  ? 
Come  hither  hid.  an'  answer  for't, 

Ye're  blam'd  for  jobbin." 

Wi'  pinch  I  put  a  Sunday's  face  on, 
An'  snoov'd  awa'  before  the  Session— 
I  made  an  open,  fair  confession, 

I  scorn'd  to  lie; 
An'  syne  Mess  John,  beyond  expression, 

Fell  Ibul  o'  me. 

A  fornicator  lonn  he  call'd  me. 

An'  said  my  faut  frae  bliss  expell'd  me  ; 

I  own'd  the  tale  was  true  he  tell'd  me, 

"  But  what  the  matter," 
Quo'  I,  *'  I  fear  unless  ye  eeld  me, 

I'll  ne'er  be  better." 

"  Geld  you,"  quo'  he,  "  and  whatforc  v.o, 
If  that  vour  right  hand,  leg,  or  toe, 
17  "  K 


24'2  BiJUiNS    roEMS. 

Sliould  ever  prove  your  sp'ritual  foe, 
You  sliou'cl  remember 

To  cut  it  atf,  an'  whatfore  no 

Your  dearest  member  ?' 


"  Na,  na,"  quo'  I,  "  I'm  no  for  tliat, 
Gelding's  nae  better  than  'tis  ca't, 
I'd  rather  suffer  for  my  faut, 

A  hearty  flewit, 
As  sair  owre  hip  as  ye  can  draw't ! 

Tlio'  I  should  rue  it. 

"  Or  gin  ye  like  to  end  the  bother, 
To  please  us  a',  I've  just  ae  ither, 
When  next  wi'  yon  lass  I  forgather, 

What'er  betide  it, 
I'll  frankly  gie  her't  a'  thegither. 

All'  let  her  guide  it." 

But,  Sir,  this  pleas'd  them  warst  ava, 
An'  therefore,  Tarn,  when  that  I  saw, 
I  said  ''  Guid  night,"  and  cam  awa'. 

An'  left  the  Session  ; 
I  saw  they  were  resolved  a' 

On  my  oppression. 


LAMENT 

OH   A    MOTIIEU    FOR   THE    DEATH   OF    HER   SON. 

Fate  gave  the  word,  the  arrow  sped, 

And  pierc'd  ray  darling's  heart : 
And  with  him  all  the  joys  are  fled 

Life  can  to  me  impart. 


BURNS      POEMS.  243 


By  cruel  hands  the  sapling  drops, 

In  dust  dislionour'd  hiid  : 
So  fell  the  pride  of  all  my  hopes, 

My  age's  future  shade. 

The  mother-linnet  in  the  brake 
Bewails  her  ravish'd  yountr  ; 

So  I  for  my  lost  darling's  sake, 
Lament  the  live-day  long. 

Death,  oft  I've  fear'd  thy  fatal  blow, 
Now,  fond  I  bare  my  breast, 

O,  do  thou  kinrlly  lay  me  low 
With  him  I  love,  at  rest 


SOXNET, 

ON  THE   DEATH    OF    ROBERT   RIDDEL,    ESQ.    OP 
GLESRIDDEL,    APRIL,    1794. 

No  more,  ye  warblers  of  the  wood— no  more  ! 
Nor  pour  your  descant,  gratincr,  on  my  soul : 
Thou  young-ey'd  Spring,  gay  in  thy  verdant  stole. 

More  welcome  were  to  me  grim  Winter's  wildest  roar. 

How  can  ye  charm,  ye  flow'rs,  with  all  your  dyes  ? 
Ye  blow  upon  tlie  sod  tliat  wraps  my  friend  : 
Mow  can  I  to  tlie  tuneful  strain  attend? 

That  strain  flows  round   th'  untimely  tomb  where 
Riddel  lies. 

Yes,  pour,  ye  warblers,  pour  the  notes  of  woe  ! 
And  soothe  the  Virtues  weeping  on  this  bier  : 
The  M(m  of  Worth,  and  has  not  left  his  peer 

la  in  his  "  narrow  house"  for  ever  darkly  low. 


'244  BURNS     POEMS. 

Thee,  Sprin?,  afjain  with  joy  shall  othtr3  jj;rcet  j 
Me,  inem'ry  of  my  loss  will  only  meet. 


VERSES 

ON    THE  DEATH   OF    SIR   JAMES    IIUNIEB   BLAIR. 

The  lamp  of  day,  with  ill-presaging  glare, 
Dim,  cloudy,  sunk  beneath  the  western  wave  ; 

Til'  inconstant  blast  liowl'd  thro'  the  d;irkening  air, 
And  hollow  whistled  in  the  rocky  cave. 

Lone  as  I  wander'd  by  each  cliff  and  dell. 
Once  the  lov'd  haunts  of  Scotia's  royal  train*  ; 

Or  mus'd  where  limpid  streams,  once'hallow'd  wellt, 
Or  mould'ring  ruins  mark  the  sacred  fanej; 

Th'  increasing  blast  roar'd  round  the  beetling  rocks, 
The  clouds,  swift-wing'd,  flew  o'er  the  starry  skv  ; 

Tlie  groaning  trees  untimely  slied  their  locks. 
And  shooting  meteors  caught  the  startled  eye. 

The  paly  moon  rose  in  the  livid  east. 

And  'moiiff  the  cliffs  disclos'd  a  stately  form, 

In  weeds  of  woe,  that  frantic  beat  her  breast 
And  mix'd  her  vvailings  with  the  raving  storm. 

Wild  to  my  heart  the  filial  pulses  glow, 
'Twas  Caledonia's  trophied  shield  I  view'd  : 

Her  form  majestic  droop'd  in  pensive  woe, 
The  lightning  of  her  eye  in  tears  imbued. 


•  The  King's  Park,  at  Holyrood  House, 
t  St.  Anthony's  Well.         J  S:.  Anthony's  Chapel. 


burns'  roKMS.  245 

ReversM  that  spoar,  redoubtable  in  war, 
Reclin'd  that  banner,  erst  in  fields  unt'url'd, 

That  like  a  dreadful  meteor  gleani'd  afar, 

And  brav'd  the  mighty  monarchs  of  the  world  :— 

"  My  patriot  Son  fills  an  untimely  grave  !" 
Witli  accents  wild,  and  lifted  arms  she  cried — 

"  Low  lies  the  hand  that  oft  was  stretch'd  to  save. 
Low  lies  the  heart  that  swell'd  with  honest  pride  ! 

*'  A  weeping  country  joins  a  widow's  tear, 
The  helpless  poor  niix  with  the  orphan's  cry  ; 

And  drooping  hearts  surround  their  patron's  bier, 
And  grateful  science  heaves  the  heart-felt  sigh, 

"  I  saw  my  sons  resume  their  ancient  firp : 
I  saw  fair  Freedom's  blossoms  richly  blow  ; 

But,  ah  !  our  hope  is  born  but  to  expire  I 
Relentless  fate  has  laid  this  guardian  low. 

*'  My  patriot  falls,  but  shall  ho,  lie  unsung, 

While  empty  greatness  saves  a  worthless  name  ! 

No ;  every  ]\Iuse  shall  join  her  tuneful  tongue, 
And  future  ages  hear  his  growing  fame. 

"  And  I  will  join  a  mother's  tender  cares. 
Thro'  future  times  to  make  his  virtue  last, 

That  distant  years  may  boast  of  other  Blairs  !"— 
She  said,  and  vanisli'd  with  the  sweeping  blast. 


LETTER, 

TO   J S   T T,   GL— NC— R. 

AuLD  comrade  dear  and  l)rither  sinner. 
How's  a'  the  folk  about  Gl— nc— r? 
How  do  you  this  blae  eastlin  wind. 
That's  like  to  blaw  a  body  blind  .' 


246  burns'  pokms. 

For  me  ray  faculties  are  frozen, 
My  dearest  niembL'r  nearly  dozen'd  : 
I've  sent  you  here  by  Johnnie  Simson, 
Twa  sage  philospliers  to  jrlimpse  on  ; 
Smith,  \vi'  his  sympathetic  feeling. 
An'  Reid,  to  common  sense  appealing, 
Philosophers  have  fou'.^ht  an'  wrant^led, 
An'  meikle  Greek  and  Latin  mangled, 
Till  \vi'  their  loirie- jargon  tir'd 
An'  in  the  depths  of  science  mir'd. 
To  common  sense  they  now  appeal. 
What  wives  an'  \val)sters  see  an'  feel ; 
But,  hark  ye,  friend,  I  charge  you  strictly. 
Peruse  them  and  return  them  quickly  I 
For  now  I'm  grown  sae  cursed  douce, 
I  pray  and  ponder  butt  the  house, 
My  shins,  my  lane,  I  there  sit  roastin, 
Perusing  Bunyan,  Brown,  and  Boston  ; 
Till  by  an'  by,"  if  I  hand  on, 
I'll  grunt  a  real  Gospel  groan  : 
Already  I  begin  to  try  it, 
To  cast  my  eeii  up  like  a  pyet, 
When  by  the  gun  she  tumbles  o'er, 
Flutt'ring  an'  gasping  in  her  gore  : 
Sae  shortly  you  shall  see  me  bright, 
A  burning  an'  a  shining  light. 

My  heart-warm  love  to  guid  auld  Glen, 
The  ace  an'  wale  of  honest  men  : 
When  bending  down  with  auld  grey  hairs, 
Beneath  the  load  of  years  and  cares, 
May  he  who  made  him  still  support  him, 
An'  views  beyond  the  grave  comfort  him. 
His  worthy  fam'ly  far  and  near, 
God  bless  them  a'  wi'  grace  and  gear. 

My  auld  school-fellow,  Preaclier  Willie, 
The  manly  tar,  my  mason  Billie, 


burns'  roKMs.  247 

An'  Auchenb.iy,  I  wish  him  joy  ; 

If  he's  a  parent,  lass  or  boy, 

May  he  be  dati,  an'  Meg  the  niither, 

Just  five-an'-forty  years  thetritlier  ! 

An'  no  forgetting;  wabster  Charlie, 

I'm  tauM  lie  offers  very  tairly. 

An'  L — d  remember  singing  Sannock, 

Wi'  hale  breeks,  saxpence,  an'  a  bannock. 

An'  next,  my  auld  acquaintance,  Nancy, 

Snice  she  is  fitted  to  her  fancy  ; 

An'  her  kind  stars  hae  airted  till  her 

A  guid  chiel  wi'  a  pickle  siller. 

My  kindest,  best  respects  I  sen'  it, 

To  cousin  Kate  an'  sister  Janet ; 

Tell  them  frae  ine,  we  chiels  be  cautious, 

For,  faith,  they'll  aiblins  fin'  them  fashious  : 

To  grant  a  heart  is  fairly  civil, 

But  to  grant  a  maidenhead's  the  devil ! 

An'  lastly,  Jamie,  for  yoursel. 

May  guardian  angels  tak  a  spell. 

An'  steer  you  seven  miles  south  o*  hell : 

But  first,  before  you  see  heav'n's  glory, 

May  ye  get  monie  a  merry  story, 

Monie  a  laugh,  and  monie  a  drink. 

An'  ay  enough  o'  needfu'  clink. 

Now  fare  ye  weel,  an'  joy  be  wi'  you, 
For  my  sake  this  I  beg  it  o'  you, 
Assist  poor  Sirason  a'  ye  can, 
Ye'll  fin'  him  just  an  honest  man  ; 
Sae  I  conclude  an'  quat  my  chanter, 
Your's  saint  or  sinner, 

Rob  the  Ranter. 


248  BURNS      POF.MS. 


ON  A  YOUXG  LADY, 

Residiiif/  on  the  Banks  of  the  small  River  Devon, 
in  ClackmannaiisJdre,  bat  ivhose  infant  yean 
mere  spent  in  AijrsJdre. 

How  pleasant  the  banks  of  the  clear-wnulinq:  Devon, 
With  green-spreading  bushes,  and  flow'rs  bloom- 
ing t'iiir : 

But  the  bonniest  flow'r  on  the  banks  of  the  Devon, 
Was  once  a  s.veet  bud  on  the  braes  of  the  Ayr. 

Mild  be  the  sun  on  this  sweet-blushing  flower, 
In  the  gay,  rosy  morn  as  it  bathes  in  the  dew  ! 

And  gentle  tlie  fall  of  the  soft  vernal  shower. 
That  steals  on  the  evening  each  leaf  to  renew. 

0  spare  the  dear  blossom,  ye  orient  breezes, 
With  chill  hoary  wing  as  ye  usher  the  dawn ! 

And  far  be  thou  distant,  thou  reptile  that  seizes 
The  verdure  and  pride  of  the  garden  and  lawn  ! 

Let  Bourbon  exult  in  his  gay  gilded  lilies. 
And  England  triumphant  display  her  proud  rose  ; 

A  fairer  than  either  adorns  the  green  vallies 
Where  Devon,  sweet  Devon,  meandering  flows. 


Written  on  the  Blank  Leaf  of  a  Copy  of  his 
Poems,  Presented  to  an  old  Stceetheaj't,  then 
Married. 

OxcB  fondly  lov'd,  and  still  reraember'd  dear, 
Sweet  early  object  of  my  youthful  vows, 


liUllNS'    POEMS.  249 

Accept  tliis  mark  of  friendsliip,  warm,  siiictTP, 
Friendship  ! — 'tis  all  cold  duty  now  allows  : — 

And  when  you  read  the  simple,   artless  rhymes, 
One  friendly  sigh  for  him,  he  asks  no  more, 

Who  distant  burns  in  flaniinfr,  torrid  climes, 
Or  haply  lies  beneath  th'  Atlantic  roar. 

EXTEMPORE, 

Wj-ltten  in  Atiswei'  to  a  Cai-d  from  an  intimate  of 
Burns,  inviting  him  to  spend  an  hour  at  a 
Tavern. 

The  King's  most  humble  servant  I, 

Can  scarcely  spare  a  minute  ; 
But  I'll  be  wi'  you  by  and  bye, 

Or  else  the  devil's  in  it. 

EXTEMPORE. 

Writicji  in  a  Lady's  PocJwt-Book. 

Grant  me,  indulgent  Ileav'n,  that  I  may  live 
To  see  the  miscreants  feel  the  pains  they  give, 
Deal  freedom's  sacred  treasures  free  as  air, 
Till  slave  and  det^pot  be  but  things  that  were. 


LINES 

ON   MISS   J.    SCOTT,    OF   AYU. 

Oh  !  had  each  Scot  of  ancient  times, 
Been.,  Jeany  Scott,  as  thou  art, 
The  bravest  heart  on  English  ground, 
Had  yielded  like  a  coward. 


2o0  BUilNS'    POEMS. 

EPITAPHS,   EPIGRAMS, 


ox  A  CELEBRATED  RULING  ELDER, 

Here  souter  Will  in  death  does  sleep, 

To  h-U,  if  he's  gane  thither, 
Satan,  gie  him  thy  gear  to  keep. 

He  11  haud  it  weel  thegither. 


ON  A  NOISY  POLEMIC. 

Below  thir  stanes  lie  Jamie's  banes ; 

O  Death,  it's  my  opinion, 
Thou  ne'er  took  such  a  bleth'rin'  b-teh 

Into  thy  dark  domiiiioa  ! 


ON  WEE  JOHNNY. 

HIC  JACKET  WEE  JOHNNY. 

Whoe'er  thou  art,  O  reader,  know, 
That  Death  has  murder'd  Johnny  ! 

And  here  his  body  lies  fu'  low 

For  saul  he  ne'er  had  ony. 


FOR  THE  AUTHOR'S  FATHER. 

O  YE,  whose  cheek  the  tear  of  pity  stains, 
Draw  near  with  pious  reverence  and  attend ! 

Here  lie  the  loving  husband's  dear  remains, 
The  tender  father,  and  the  generous  friend  ; 


BURNS      POEMS,  2'»1 

The  pitying  heart  that  felt  for  liuman  wo  ! 

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."* 


FOR  ROBERT  AIKEX,  Esq. 

Kxow  thou,  O  stranger  to  tlie  fame 
Of  this  much  lov'd,  much  honour'd  name  ! 
(For  none  that  knew  him  need  be  told) 
A  warmer  heart  death  ne'er  made  cold. 


FOR  GAVIN  HAMILTON,  Esq. 

The  poor  man  weeps — here  Gavin  sleeps 
Whom  canting  wretches  blam'd  ; 

But  with  such  as  he,  where'er  he  be, 
May  I  be  sav\l  or  d d ! 


A  BARD'S  EPITAPH. 

Is  there  a  whim-inspired  fool, 

Owre  fast  for  thought,  owre  hot  for  rule, 

Owre  blate  to  seek,  owre  proud  to  snool. 

Let  him  draw  near. 
And  owre  this  grassy  heap  sing  dool, 

And  drap  a  tear. 

Is  there  a  Bard  of  rustic  song, 

Who,  noteless  steals  the  crowds  among, 

That  weekly  this  area  throng, 

O  ])ass  not  by  ! 
But,  with  a  frater-feeling  stronpr, 

Here  heave  a  ?'vAi. 


•  Goldsmith. 


!  BURNS      POEMS. 

Is  there  a  man,  whose  jiu1<,'raent  clear 
Can  others  teach  the  course  to  steer, 
Yet  runs,  himself,  life's  mad  career, 

\yil'l  as  the  wave. 
Here  pause— and  thro'  the  starting  tear, 

Survey  this  grave. 

The  poor  inhabitant  below 

Was  quick  to  learn,  and  wisie  to  know, 

And  keenly  felt  the  friendly  glow, 

A  n  d  softer  flame. 
But  thoughtless  follies  laid  him  low, 

And  stain'd  his  name ! 

Reader,  attend— whether  thy  soul 
Soars  fancy's  flights  beyond  the  pole, 
Or  darkling  grubs  this  earthly  hole 

In  low  pursuit. 
Know,  prudent,  cautious,  se/f  control, 

Is  wisdom's  root. 


ON  JOHN  DOVE, 

INNKEEPER,   MAUCHLINB. 

Here  lies  Johnny  Pidgeon, 
What  was  his  religion  ? 

Whae'er  desires  to  ken. 
To  some  other  warl' 
Maun  follow  the  carl. 

For  here  Johnny  Pidgeon  had  nane ! 

Strong  ale  was  ablution — 
Small  beer  persecution, 

A  dram  was  memento  ?nori ; 
But  a  full  flowing  bowl 
Was  the  joy  of  his  soul. 

And  port  ^vas  celestial  glory. 


burns'  poems.         i'.-jO 


ON  A  FRIEND. 

An  honest  man  here  lies  at.  rest 
As  e'er  God  with  his  image  blest ; 
The  friend  of  man,  the  friend  of  truth  ; 
The  friend  of  age,  and  guide  of  youth  ; 
Few  hearts  like  his,  with  virtue  warm'd, 
Few  hearts  with  knowledge  so  inform'd  : 
If  there's  another  world,  he  lives  in  bliss; 
If  there  is  none,  he  made  the  best  of  this. 


ON  A  WAG  IN  MAUCIILINE. 

Lament  him  Manchline  husbands  a', 

He  aften  did  assist  ye  ; 
For  had  he  staid  whole  weeks  awa, 

Your  wives  they  ne'r  had  miss'd  ye. 
Ye  Mauchliue  bairns,  as  on  ye  press 

To  school  in  bands  thegither, 
O  tread  ye  lightly  on  this  grass, — 

Perhaps  he  was  your  father. 


THE  HENPECK'D  HUSBAND. 

Curs'd  be  the  man,  the  poorest  wretch  in  life, 
The  crouching  vassal  to  the  tyrant  wife! 
Who  has  no  will,  but  by  her  higii  permi^sion  ; 
Who  has  not  sixpence,  but  in  her  possession  : 
Who  must  to  her  his  dear  friend's  secret  tell  ; 
Who  dreads  a  curtain  lecture  worse  than  hell ! 
Where  such  the  wife  had  fallen  to  my  part, 
I'd  break  her  spirit,  or  I'd  break  her  heart  j 
I'd  charm  her  with  the  magic  of  a  switch, 
I'd  kiss  her  rnaids,  and  kick  the  perverse  b— h. 


2.34  burns'    I'OEMS. 


THR  HIGHLAND    WELCOME. 

Composed  and  Repeated  bj/  Burns,  to  the  Master 
of  the  House,  on  taking  leave  at  a  place  in 
the  Highlands,  cohere  he  had  been  hospitably' 
entertained. 

When  death's  dark  stream  I  ferry  o'er, 

A  time  that  surely  shall  come ; 
In  heaven  itself,  I'll  ask  no  more, 

Than  just  a  Highland  welcome. 


GRACE  BEFORE  DINNER. 

O  Tirou,  who  kindly  dost  provide 

For  every  creature's  want ! 
We  bless  tliee,  God  of  Nature  wide. 

For  all  thy  goodness  lent : 
And,  if  it  please  thee,  Heavenly  Guide, 

May  never  worse  be  sent ; 
But,  whether  granted  or  denied. 

Lord,  bless  us  with  content ! 

Amen. 


ON  CAPTAIN  FRANCIS  GROSE. 


The  devil  got  notice  that  Grose  was  a  dying, 

So  whip  !  at  the  summons,  old  Satan  came  flying; 

But  when  he  approach'd   where  poor  Francis  lay; 

moaning, 

And  saw  each  bed-post  with  Its  burden  a-groaning, 
Astonish'd !  confounded  !  cry'd  Satan,  "  By  G-d  ! 
I'll  want  'im,  ere  I  take  such  a  damnable  load  1'' 


BURNS      rOEMS. 


SONGS  AND  BALLADS. 


i 


THE  JOLLY  BEGGARS. 
A  Cantata. 

RECITATIVO. 

When  lyart  leaves  bestrew  the  yird, 
Or,  wavering,  like  the  bauclde*  bird, 

Bedim  cauld  Boreas'  blast: 
When  hailstanes  drive  wi'  hitter  skyfe, 
And  infant  frosts  begin  to  bite. 

In  hoary  cranreugh  drest ; 
Ae  night,  at  e'en,  a  inerry  core 

O'  randie  gan^irel  bodies, 
In  Poosie-Nansie's  held  the  splore, 
To  drink  their  orra  daddies  : 
Wi'  quaffing  and  lauiihing, 

They  ranted  and  they  sang  ; 
Wi'  jumping  and  thumping, 
The  vera  girdle  rang. 

I'irst,  neist  the  fire,  in  auld  red  rags, 
Ane  sat,  weel  braced  wi'  mealy  bags, 

And  knapsack  a'  in  order  ; 
Ilis  doxy  lay  within  his  arm, 
Wi'  usquebae  and  blankets  warm, 

She  blinket  on  her  sodger  ; 
And  aye  he  gies  the  touzie  drab 

The  tither  skelpin  kiss. 
While  she  held  up  her  greedy  gab, 

Just  like  an  aumos  dish  : 

•  The  old  Scottish  name  for  a  but. 


256  iJUUNs'  roKMS. 

Ilk  smack  still,  did  crack  still, 
Just  like  a  cadger's  whup, 

Then  stagtieriiig,  and  swaggering, 
He  roar'd  this  ditty  up— 


Tune—"  Soldier's  Joy.'' 

I  AM  a  son  of  Mars,  who  have  been  in  many  wars. 
And  show  my  cuts  and  scars  wherever  I  come  ; 
Tiiis  here  was  for  a  wonch,  and  that  other  in  a  trench, 
When  welcoming  the  French  at  the  sound  of  the  drum. 
Lai  de  daudle,  &c. 

My  'prenticeship  I  past  where  my  leader  breath'd  his 

last, 
When  the  bloody  dye  was  cast  on  the  heights  of 

Abrara ; 
I  served  out  my  trade  when  the  gallant  game  was 

play'd, 
And  tiie  Moro  low  was  laid  at  the  sound  of  the  drum. 
Lai  de  daudle,  I'fec. 

I  lastly  was  with  Curtis,  among  the  floating  batt'ries, 
And  there  I  left  for  witness  an  arm  and  a  limb ; 
Yet  let  my  country  need  me,  with  Elliot  to  head  mo, 
I'd  clatter  on  my  stumps  at  the  sound  of  the  drum. 
Liil  de  daudle,  &c. 

And  now,  tho'  I  must  beg,  with  a  wooden  arm  and 

leg, 
And  many  a  tatter'd  rag  hanging  over  my  bum, 
I'm  as  happy  with  my  wallet,  my  bottle,  and  my 

callet. 
As  when  I  used  in  scarlet  to  follow  the  drum, 
Lai  de  daudle,  &c. 


BURNS     POEMS.  o;)7 

What  tho'  with  hoary  locks  I  must  stand  the  winter 

shocks, 
Beneath  the  woods  and  rocks,  oftentimes  for  a  liome  ; 
When  the  totlier  bag  I  sell,  and  the  tother  bottle  tell] 
I  could  meet  a  troop  of  hell  at  the  sound  of  the  drum. 
Lai  de  dandle  &c. 

RECITATIVO. 

He  ended  ;  and  the  kebars  sheuk 

Aboon  the  chorus'  roiir  ; 
While  frighted  rattons  backward  leuk. 

And  seek  the  benmost  bore  ; 
A  fairy  fiddler  frae  the  neuk, 

He  skirl'd  out  encore! 
But  up  arose  the  martial    chuck, 

And  laid  the  loud  uproar. 

AIK. 

Tune—*'  Soldier  Laddie" 

I  once  was  a  maid,  tho'  I  cannot  tell  when, 
And  still  my  delight  is  in  proper  young  men  ! 
Some  one  oif  a  troop  of  dragoons  was  my  daddie. 
No  wonder  I'm  fond  of  a  sodger  laddie. 

Sing,  Lai  de  lal,  Sm. 

The  first  of  my  loves  was  a  swaggering  blade, 
To  rattle  the  thundering  drum  was  his  trade  ; 
His  leg  was  so  tight,  and  his  cheek  was  so  ruddy, 
Transported  I  was  with  my  sodger  laddie. 

Sing,  Lal  de  lal,  .^-c. 

But  the  godly  old  chaplain  left  him  in  the  lurch, 
So  the  sword  I  forsook  for  the  sake  of  tlie  church ; 
He  ventur'd  the  soul,  and  risked  the  body, 
'Twas  then  I  prov'd  false  to  mv  sodger  laddie. 

Siii'j:,  Lal  de  lal,  &c. 

n  s 


2o8  BUUNS'    roKMS. 

Full  soon  I  grew  sick  of  my  sanctified  sot, 
riie  regiment  at  large  for  a  liusband  I  got; 
From  the  gilded  spoutoon  to  the  fife  I  was  readv, 
I  asked  no  more  but  a  sodger  laddie. 

Sing,  Lai  de  lal,  Scr. 

But  the  peace  it  reduced  rae  to  beg  in  (U-spair, 
Till  I  met  my  old  boy  at  Cunnhighara  fair, 
His  rags  regimental  they  fluttered  sae  gaudy, 
My  heart  it  rejoiced  at  my  sodger  laddie. 

Sing,  Lal  de  lal,  &c. 

And  now  I  have  lived— I  know  not  how  long, 

And  still  I  can  join  in  a  cup  or  a  song  ; 

But  whilst  with  both  hands   I  can  hold  the  glass 

steady, 
Here's  to  thee,  my  hero,  my  sodser  laddie. 

Shig,  Lal  de  lal,  Sec. 

RECITATIVO. 

Poor  Merry  Andrew,  in  the  neuk, 

Sat  guzzling  wi'  a  tinkler  hizzie  ; 
They  mind't  na  wha  the  chorus  took, 

Between  themselves  they  were  sae  bizzy  ; 
At  length,  wi' drink  and  courting  dizzy. 

He  stoiter'd  up  and  made  a  face  ; 
Then  turn'd  and  laid  a  smack  on  Grizzy, 

Syne  tun'd  his  pipes  wi'  grave  grim.iCH. 


Tune—"  A  uld  Sir  Symon." 

Sir  Wisdom's  a  fool  when  he's  fou, 
Sir  Knave  is  a  fool  in  a  session ; 

He's  there  but  'prentice  I  trow. 
But  I  am  a  fool  by  profession. 


BUllNS      POIC.MS.  t2o9 

?.!>•  arannie  she  hoiiyht  me  a  beiik, 

And  I  held  uwa  to  the  school ; 
I  fvar  I  my  tak>nt  inisteuk  ; 

But  what  will  ye  hae  of  a  fool  ? 

For  drink  I  wad  venture  my  nock  ; 

A  hizzie's  the  hauf  o'  my  craft; 
But  what  could  ye  other  expect 

Of  ane  that's  avowedly  daft  ? 

I  ance  was  tied  up  like  a  stirk, 

For  civilly  swearing-  and  quaffing; 
I  auce  was  abus'd  i'  the  kirk, 

For  towzling  a  lass  i'  my  dafBn. 

Poor  Andrew  th;it  tumbles  fort  sport, 

Let  naebody  name  wi'  a  jeer  ; 
Tliere's  even,  I'm  tauld,  i'  the  court, 

A  tumbler  ca'd  the  Premier. 

Ob?erv'd  ye,  yon  reverend  lad 

Maks  faces"  to  tickle  the  mob  ; 
Me  rails  at  our  mountebank  squdd  ; 

It's  rivalship  just  i'  the  job. 

And  now  my  cojiclusion  I'll  tell. 

For  faith  I'm  confoundedly  dry, 
The  chiel  that's  a  fool  for  himsel', 

Guid  L — d,  is  far  dafter  than  I. 

RKCITATIVO. 

Then  niest  outspak  a  raucle  carlin, 
Wha  kent  fu'  weel  to  cleek  the  stcrliii;^ 
For  monie  a  pursie  she  had  hook'd, 
And  had  in  mony  a  well  beea  duck'd  ; 
Her  dove  had  been  a  Hijrhlaufi  laddii', 
But  wearv  fa'  the  waem'  woodie  I 


2G0  burns'  poems. 


Wi'  si'fflis  and  sabs  slie  thus  be<xan 
To  wail  her  braw  Jolin  Highlandman. 


Tune—"  0,  an  you  were  dead,  GudemanJ 

A  HiGHLANn  lad  my  love  was  born, 
The  Lawlajid  laws  he' held  in  scorn  ; 
But  he  still  was  fairiifu'  to  his  clan. 
My  gallant  braw  John  Highlandraan. 

CHORUS. 

Sinjr,  hey,  my  braw  John  Hi<?hlandman  ! 
Sing,  ho^  my  braw  Jolin  Highlandnian  I 
There's  not  a  lad  in  a'  the  Ian' 
Was  match  for  ray  John  Highlandraan. 

Wi'  his  philibeg  and  tartan  plaid. 
And  gude  claymore  down  by  his  side, 
The  ladies'  hearts  he  did  trepan. 
My  gallant  braw  John  Highlandman, 

Sing,  hey,  ice. 

We  ranged  a'  from  Tweed  to  Spey, 
And  lived  like  lords  and  ladies  gay  ; 
For  a  Lalland  face  he  feared  nane. 
My  gallant  braw  John  Highlandman. 

Sing,  hey,  &;c. 

They  banish"d  him  beyond  the  sea, 
But  ere  the  bud  was  on  the  tree, 
Adown  my  cheeks  the  pearls  ran. 
Embracing  ray  John  Highlandinan. 

Sing,  hey,  &c. 

But  oh  !  they  catch'd  him  at  the  last, 
And  bound  him  in  a  dungeon  fast. 


UTRNS'     I'OK.MS.  'jCtl 

My  curse  upon  tliem  every  one. 
They've  haiig'd  my  braw  John  IIi<:hlan(liiiaii. 
Sing,  hi-y,  &c. 

And  now  a  widow  I  must  mourn 
The  pk^asures  tluit  will  ne'er  return; 
No  comfort  but  a  hearty  can, 
When  I  think  on  John  JHighlandman. 

Sing,  iiey,  &c. 

RECITATIVO. 

A  pigmy  scraper  wi'his  fiddle, 

Wha  us'd  at  trysts  and  fairs  to  driddle, 

Her  strappin  limb  and  gaucy  middle 

(He  reach'd  nae  higher) 
Had  hol'd  his  heartie  like  a  riddle, 

And  blawn't  on  fire. 

Wi'  hand  on  haunch,  and  upward  ee. 
He  croon'd  his  gamut,  ane,  twa,  three, 
Then,  in  an  Arioso  key, 

The  "wee  Apollo 
Set  afF,  wi'  Alligretto  glee, 

His  giga  solo. 

AIR. 

Tune—"  Whistle  o'er  the  Lave  o't.* 

Let  me  ryke  up  to  dight  that  tear, 
And  go  wi'  me  and  be  my  dear, 
And  then  your  every  care  and  fear 
May  whistle  owre  the  lave  o't. 


I  am  a  fiddler  to  my  trade, 

And  a'  the  tunes  that  e'er  I  play'd, 


20*2  BUiiNs'   poe:ms. 

Tlie  sweetest  still  to  wife  and  maid. 
Was  whistle  owre  the  lave  o't. 

At  kirns  and  weddings  we'se  be  there. 
And  O !  sae  nieely's  we  will  fare  ; 
We'll  bouse  aljout,  till  daddie  Care 
Sings  whistle  owre  the  lave  o't. 
I  am,  kc. 

Sae  merrily's  the  banes  we'll  P5'ke, 
And  sun  oursels  about  the  dyke, 
And  at  our  leisure,  when  we  like. 
We'll  whistle  owre  the  lave  o't. 
I  am,  &c. 

But  bless  me  wi'  your  heav'n  o'  charsna^ 
And  while  I  kittle  hair  on  thainns, 
Hunger,  cauld,  and  a'  sic  harms, 
May  whistle  owre  the  lave  o't. 
I  am,  &c. 

RECITATIVO. 

Her  charms  had  struck  a  sturdy  Cain!, 

As  weel  as  poor  Gut-scraper  ; 
He  taks  the  fiddler  by  the  beard, 

And  draws  a  rusty  rapier — 
He  swoor  by  a'  was  swearing  •worth, 

To  split  him  like  a  piiver. 
Unless  he  wad  from  that  time  forth 

Relinquish  her  for  ever. 

Wi'  ghastly  ee,  poor  Tweedle-dee 

Upon  his  hunkers  bended , 
And  pray'd  for  grace  wi'  rueful  face, 

And  sae  the  quarrel  ended. 
Uut  tho'  his  little  heart  did  grieve 

When  round  the  tinker  press'd  her. 


BURNS      POKMh.  2Chi 


he  feign'd  to  snirtle  in  his  sleeve, 
When  thus  the  Cyird  address'd  her  : 


Tune-"  Chid  the  Cauldron:'     ■ 

My  bonny  lass,  I  work  in  brass, 

A  tinker  is  niy  station  ; 
I've  travell'd  round  all  Christian  ground 

In  this  my  occupation  ; 
I've  ta'en  the  gold,  I've  been  enroU'd 

In  many  a  noble  squadron ; 
But  vain  they  search'd,  when  off  I  march'd 

To  go  and  clout  the  cauldron. 

I've  ta'en  the  gold,  &c. 

Df'spise  that  shrimp,  that  wither'd  imp, 

NA'i'  a'  his  noise  and  caprin. 
And  tak  a  share  wi'  those  that  bear 

The  budget  and  the  apron  ; 
And  by  that  stowp,  my  faith  and  hoiip, 

And  by  that  dear  Kilbajjie,* 
If  e'er  ye  waHt,  or  meet  wi'  scant, 

May  I  ne'er  wat  my  craigie. 

And  by  that  stowp,  &c. 

RECITATIVO. 

The  Caird  prevail'd— th'  unblushing  fair 

In  his  embraces  sunk, 
Partly  wi'  love  o'ercon.-e  sae  sair, 

And  partly  she  was  drunk. 
Sir  Violino,  with  an  air 

That  show'd  a  man  o'  spunk. 


•A    peculiar  sort  of  whisky  so  callc'l ;  a  nicRt  favo(irit<» 
with  Poosie-  Nansie's  club. 


264  MLKNS'    I'OKMS. 

VVisli'd  unison  between  tiio  pair, 
And  made  the  bottle  clunk 

To  their  healtli  that  niglit. 

But  hurchin  Cupid  sliot  a  shaft, 

TliHt  play'd  a  dame  a  shavie, 
The  fiddler  rak'd  her  fore  and  aft, 

Behint  the  chicken-cavie, 
Her  lord,  a  wiciht  o'  Homer's  craft,'* 

Tho'  limping  wi'  the  spavie. 
He  hirpl'd  up,  and  lap  like  Daft, 

And  shor'd  them  Dainty  Davie, 

To  boot  that  ni<;!it. 

He  was  a  care-defying-  blade 

As  ever  Bacdius  listed, 
Tho'  Fortune  sair  upon  him  laid, 

His  heart  she  ever  miss'd  it. 
He  had  nae  wish,  but — to  be  glad. 

Nor  want — but  when  he  thirsted  ; 
He  hated  nought  but — to  be  sad, 

And  thus  the  Muse  suggested 

His  sang  that  ni'^ht. 


Tune— "For  cC  that,  and  a'  that.'* 

I  am  a  bard  of  no  regard. 

Wi'  gentlefolks,  and  a'  that 
But  homer-like,  the  glowran  byke 

Frae  town  to  town  I  draw  that. 

CHORUS. 

For  a'  that,  and  a'  that ; 
And  twice  as  meikle's  a'  that ; 

flomer  is  allowed  to  be  the  oldest  ballad  singer  on  record. 


lUU.NS      I'OICMS.  20.) 

I've  lost  but  ane,  I've  twa  hchin,' 
I've  wife  enough  for  ii'  that. 

I  never  drank  the  Muses'  stank, 

Castalia's  hurn,  and  a'  that  ; 
But  tliere  it  streams,  and  riciily  reams, 

My  Helicon  I  ca'  that. 

For  a'  that,  &c. 

Great  love  I  hear  to  a'  the  fair. 

Their  hunilile  slave,  and  a'  that ; 
But  lordly  will,  I  liold  it  still 

A  mortal  sin  to  tiiraw  that. 

For  a'  that,  &:c. 

In  raptures  sweet,  this  hour  we  meet, 

Wi'  mutual  love,  and  a'  that  ; 
But  for  how  lon^  the  flie  may  stang, 

Let  inclination  law  that. 

For  a'  that,  (Sec. 

Their  tricks  and  craft  hae  put  me  daft, 

They've  ta'en  me  in,  and  a'  that ; 
But  clear  your  decks,  and  "  Here's  the  sex  !" 
I  like  the  jads  for  a'  that. 
For  a'  that,  and  a'  that; 

And  twice  as  meikle's  a'  that, 
My  dearest  blude  to  do  them  siude, 
They're  welcome  till't  for  a'  tliut. 

RECITATIVO. 

So  snn^  the  bard— and  Nansie's  wa's 
Shook  with  tiie  thunder  of  applause, 

Re-echoed  from  each  mouth  ; 
They  toom'd  their  pocks,  and  pawn'd  their  duds, 
They  scarcely  left  to  co'er  their  fuds. 

To  quench  their  lowan  drouth. 


2G6  BURNS*    POEMS. 

TlieTi  owre  ajrain  tlie  jovial  thranpr,  I 

Tlie  poet  (iifl  request,  j 

To   loo>e  liis  pack,  and  wale  a  sang, 
A  bullae!  o'  the  best ; 

Up  rising-,  rejoicing, 

Between  his  twa  Deborahs, 
Looks  round  him.  and  round  them 

Impatient  for  the  chorus. 


Tune—"  Jolly  Mortals,  Jill  your  Glassa./' 

See  the  smokinir  l>owl  before  ns, 

Mark  our  jovial  ragged  rin;^  ; 
Round  and  round  take  up  the  ciiorns, 

And  in  raptures  let  us  shig : 


A  fig  for  those  by  law  protected  ! 

Liberty's  a  glorious  feast! 
Courts  for  cowards  were  erected, 

Churches  built  to  please  the  priest. 

What  is  title?  what  is  treasure? 

What  is  reputation's  care  ? 
If  we  lead  a  life  of  pleasure, 

'Tis  no  matter  how  or  where  . 
A  fig,  Sec. 

W'hh  tlie  ready  trick  and  fable, 
Hound  we  wander  nil  tlie  day  ; 

And  at  night,  in  barn  or  stable, 
Hug  our  doxies  on  the  hay. 
A  fig,  Ace. 


BUKxs    roEMS  2G7 


Dops  the  train-attended  carriiipe 
Thro'  the  country  lighter  rove  ? 

Does  the  sober  bed  of  marriace 
Witness  brighter  scenes  of  love  ? 
A  fig,  &c. 

Life  is  all  a  variorum, 
We  regai-d  not  how  it  goes  ; 

Let  tliem  cant  about  decorum 
Who  have  characters  to  lose. 
A  fig,  &c. 

Here's  to  budgets,  bags,  and  wallets 
Here's  to  all  the  wandering  train  ! 

Here's  our  ragged  brats  and  calkts  ! 
One  and  all  cry  out,  Amen ! 


THE  RIGS  O'  BARLEY. 

It  was  upon  a  Lammas  niirlrt, 

When  corn  rigs  are  bonnie, 
Beneath  the  moon's  unclouded  light, 

I  held  awa  to  Annie: 
The  time  flew  by  wi'  tenlless  heed, 

Till  'tweeu  tiie  late  an<l  early ; 
Wi'  sma'  persuasion  s!u;  agreed 

To  see  me  thro'  the  barley. 

The  sky  was  blue,  the  wind  wm«  stiil, 

The  moon  was  shining  clearly  : 
I  set  her  down  wi'  right  good  will, 

Amang  the  rigs  o'  barley  : 
I  ken't  her  heart  was  a'  my  ain  ; 

I  lov'd  her  most  sincerely  ; 
1  kiss'd  her  owre  and  owre  again 

Amang  the  rigs  o'  barley  : 


208  liUHNb'    I'OKMS, 

I  lork'd  lier  in  my  fond  embrace  ; 

Her  heart  was  beating  rarely  : 
My  blessings  on  that  iiapjjv  place, 

Amang  tlie  rigs  o'  barley  ! 
But  by  tlie  moon  and  stars  sae  bright, 

Tliat  shone  tliat  hour  sae  clearly, 
She  aye  shall  bless  that  happy  night, 

A  raang  the  riys  o' barley. 

I  hae  been  blithe  \vi'  comrades  dear ; 

1  hae  been  merry  drinkin' ; 
I  hae  been  joyfu'  gath'rin'  gear; 

I  hae  been  happy  thinkin' : 
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. 


Com  rigs,  and  barley  rigs, 
And  corn  rigs  are  bonnie  : 

I'll  ne'er  forget  that  happy  night, 
Amang  the  rigs  wi'  Annie. 


SONG 

COMPOSED   IN    AUGUST. 

Tune — "  I  had  a  horse,  I  had  rui  more.^' 

Now  westlin'  winds,  and  slaughtering  guns, 

Bring  Autumn's  pleasant  weather  ; 
The  moorcock  sprinus,  on  whirring  wings, 

Amang  tlie  blooming  heather  : 
Xow  waving  grain,  wide  o'er  the  plain, 

Deliglits  the  weary  farmer  ; 
And  the  moon  shines  briglit,  when  I  rove  at  night 

To  muse  upon  my  charmer. 


BURNS      POEMS.  *J()9 

The  partridize  loves  tlie  fruitful  fells; 

The  plover  loves  the  mountains  ; 
The  woodcock  haunts  tlie  lonely  dells  ; 

The  soaring;  hern  the  fountains  ; 
Through  lotty  groves  the  cusliat  roves, 

The  path  of  man  to  shun  it ; 
Tlie  hazel  bush  o'erhangs  the  thrush, 

The  spreading  thorn  the  linnet. 

Thus  ev'ry  kind  their  pleasure  find, 

The  savage  and  the  tender  ; 
Some  social  join,  and  leagues  combine  j 

Some  solitary  wander  : 
Avaunt,  away  !  the  cruel  sway. 

Tyrannic  man's  dominion  ; 
The  sportsman's  joy,  the  murd'ring  cry, 

The  flatt'ring,  gory  pinion  ! 

But,  Peggy,  dear,  the  evening's  clear. 

Thick  flies  the  skimming  swallow  ; 
The  sky  is  blue,  the  fields  in  view. 

All  fading-green  and  yellow  : 
Come  let  us  stray  our  gladsome  way, 

And  view  the  charms  of  nature; 
And  rustling  corn,  the  fruited  thorn, 

And  ev'ry  happy  creature. 

We'll  gently  walk,  and  sweetly  talk, 

Till  the  silent  moon  shine  clearly  ; 
I'll  grasp  thy  waist,  and,  fondly  prest, 

Swear  how  I  love  thee  dearly  : 
Not  vernal  showers  to  budding  flowers. 

Not  autumn  to  tlie  farmer. 
So  dear  can  be  as  thou  to  me. 

My  fair,  and  lovely  charmer  ! 


270  burns'  poems. 

SOi\G. 
Tune—"  My  Nannie  O." 

Behind  yon  hills  where  Ltisfar  flows, 

'Mang  moors  and  mosses  many,  O, 
The  wintry  sun  the  day  has  clos'd, 

And  rifawa  tu  Nanuie,  O. 
Tlie  westlin'  wind  bluws  loud  and  sliill  ; 

The  ni<rht's  baitii  mirk  and  rainy,  O ; 
But  I'll  get  my  plaid,  and  oat  Fll  steal, 

And  owre  the  hills  to  Nannie,  O. 

My  Nannie's  charming,  sweet,  and  younj^ 

Nae  artfu'  wiles  to  win  ye,  O  : 
May  ill  beta'  the  flattering  tongue 

That  wad  beguile  my  Nannie,  O. 
Her  face  is  fair,  her  heart  is  true, 

As  spotless  us  she's  bonnie,  O  ; 
The  opening  gowan,  wet  wi'  dew, 

Nae  purer  is  than  Nannie,  O. 

A  country  lad  is  my  degree. 

And  few  there  be  that  ken  me,  O ; 
But  what  care  I  how  few  they  be, 

I'm  welcome  aye  to  Nannie,  O. 
My  riches  a's  my  penny-fee, 

And  I  maun  guide  it  cannie,  O  ; 
But  warl's  gear  ne'er  troubles  me, 

My  thoughts  are  a'  my  Nannie,  O. 

Our  auld  gudeman  delights  to  view 
His  sheep  and  kye  thrive  bonnie,  O  ; 

But  I'm  as  blythe  that  bauds  his  pleugh, 
And  has  nae  care  but  Nannie,  O. 


BUUN3'    roEMS. 

Cojne  weel,  come  wo,  I  care  nae  by, 
I'll  tak  what  Heav'n  will  sen'  uie,  «.) 

Nile  ither  care  in  life  hae  I, 
But  live,  and  love  my  Nannie,  O. 


GREEN  GROW  THE  RASHES. 

A  FRAGMENT. 

There's  nought  but  care  on  ev'ry  liun', 
In  every  hour  th-it  passes,  O  : 

What  signifies  the  life  o'  man, 
And  'twere  not  for  the  lasses,  O. 

Green  gTow  the  rashes,  O  ; 

Green  grow  the  rashes  O  ; 
The  sweetest  hours  that  e'er  I  spent, 

Were  spent  aranng  the  lasses,  O. 

The  warly  race  may  riches  chace. 
And  riches  still  may  fly  them.  O  ; 

And  though  at  last  tliey  catch  them  fnfft, 
Their  hearts  can  ne'er  enjoy  them,  (). 
Green  grow,  &c. 

But  gie  me  a  canny  hour  at  e'en, 
My  arms  about  my  dearie,  O  ; 

Arid  Wiirly  cares,  ami  warly  men, 
May  a'  gae  tapsalteerie,  O  ! 

Green  grow,  See. 

For  you  sae  douce,  ye  sneer  at  this, 
Ye're  nought  but  senseless  asses,  O  ; 

The  wisest  man  the  warl'  e'er  saw, 
He  dearly  lo'ed  the  lasses,  O. 

Green  grow,  kc. 


27*2  burns'  roKMs. 

AuM  Nature  swears,  tlie  lovely  dears 
Her  noblest,  work  she  classes  O ; 

Her  'prentice  lian'  she  tried  on  man, 
And  then  slie  made  the  lasses,  O. 


SONG. 
Tune— ^^  Johnny's  Grey  Breeks." 

Again  rejoicing  Nature  sees 

Her  robe  assume  its  veri»al  hues, 
Her  leafy  locks  wave  in  the  breeze, 

All  freshly  steep'd  in  morning  dews. 

And  maun  I  still  on  Menie  dote, 
And  bear  tlie  scorn  that's  in  her  ee  ? 

For  it's  jet,  jet  black,  and  it's  like  a  hziwk, 
And  it  winna  let  a  body  be! 

In  vain  to  me  the  cowslips  blaw, 

In  vain  to  me  the  vi'lets  spring; 
In  vain  to  me  the  glen  or  shaw, 

The  mavis  and  the  linthwhite  sing. 

And  maun  I  still,  Sec. 

The  merry  ploughboy  cheers  his  team, 
Wi'  joy  the  tentie  seedsman  stalks  ; 

But  life  to  me's  a  weary  dream, 
A  dream  of  ane  that  never  wauks. 

And  maun  I  still,  fee. 

The  wanton  coot  the  water  s1:ims, 
Amang  the  reeds  the  ducklings  cry, 

The  stately  swan  majestic  swims, 
And  every  thing  is  blest  but  I. 

And  maun  I  still,  &c. 


burns'  pokms.  273 

Tlie  sheep-herd  steeks  his  t'aukliii<T  slap, 
And  owre  the  moorhuids  whistles  shill, 

Wi'  wild,  unequal,  wand'rinp:  step, 
I  meet  him  on  the  dewy  hill. 

And  mauii  I  still,  &c. 

And  when  the  lark,  'tween  light  and  dark, 
Blythe  waukens  by  the  daisy's  side, 

And  mounts  and  sings,  on  fluttering  wings 
A  wae-worn  ghaist  I  hameward  glide, 
And  maun  I  still,  &c. 

Come  Winter,  with  thine  angry  howl. 

And  raging  bend  the  naked  tree  ; 
Thy  gloom  will  sooth  my  cheerless  soul, 

When  Nature  all  is  sad  like  me  ! 

And  maun  I  still,  &c. 


SONG. 

Tune— "i?osZin  Castle." 

The  gloomy  night  is  gathering  fast, 
Loud  roars  the  wild  inconstant  blast. 
Yon  murky  cloud  is  foul  with  rain, 
I  see  it  driving  o'er  the  plain  : 
The  hunter  now  has-left  the  moor. 
The  scattei-'d  coveys  meet  secure, 
Wliile  here  I  wander,  prest  witli  care, 
Along  the  lonely  banks  of  Af/r. 

The  Autumn  mourns  her  rip'niM'jr  corn 
By  early  Winter's  ravage  torn  ; 
Across  her  placid,  azure  sky. 
She  see?  the  scowling  tempest  fly  ; 
Chill  runs  my  blood  to  hear  it  rave, 
I  think  upon  the  stormy  wave, 
17  T 


074  burns'  poe.ms. 

Where  m;iny  a  danj^er  I  must  dq/«^ 
Far  from  the  bonnie  banks  of  Ayr. 

'Tis  not  the  surging  billows'  roar, 
'Tis  not  that  fatal  deadly  shore  ; 
Tho'  death  in  ev'ry  shape  appear, 
The  wretched  have  no  more  to  fear  : 
But  round  my  heart  the  ties  are  hound, 
That  heart  transpierc'd  with  many  a  wound ; 
These  bleed  afresh,  those  ties  I  tear, 
To  leave  the  bonnie  banks  of  Ayr. 

Farewell,  old  Collars  hills  and  dales, 
Her  heathy  moors  and  winding  vales ; 
The  scenes  where  wretched  fancy  roves, 
Pursuing  past,  unhappy  loves  ! 
Farewell,  my  friends  !  farewell,  my  foes  I 
My  peace  with  these,  my  love  with  those—- 
The  bursting  tears  my  heart  declare, 
Farewell  the  bonnie  banks  of  Ayr! 


SONG. 

Tu.xE— "  Gilderoi'." 

From  thee,  Eliza,  I  must  go, 

And  from  thy  native  shore  : 
Tlie  cruel  fates  between  us  throw 

A  boundless  ocean's  roar  ; 
But  boundless  oceans  roaring  widt 

Between  my  love  and  me. 
They  never,  never  can  divide 

My  heart  and  soul  from  thee  ; 

Farewell,  farewell,  Eliza  dear. 

The  maid  that  I  adore  ! 
A  boding  voice  is  in  mine  e;'r, 

We  part  to  meet  no  more  ! 


Buu?js'  roKMs.  275 

But  the  last  throb  that  leaves  my  heart, 

While  death  stands  victor  by, 
That  throb,  Eliza,  is  thy  part. 

And  thine  that  latest  si^-h  ! 


THE  FARE^yELL 

TO   THE    BllETHREN   OF    ST.   JAMEs's    LODGE, 
TARBOLTON. 

Tune—"  Good  Night,  and  Joy  he  tcV  you  a'  /" 

Adieu  !  a  heart-warm  fond  adieu  ! 

Dear  brothers  of  the  mystic  tye  ! 
Ye  favour'd,  ye  enUghiened  few, 

Companions  ol"  my  social  joy  ! 
Tho'  I  to  foreign  lands  must  liie, 

Pursuing  Fortune's  slidd'ry  ba', 
With  melttng  heart  and  brimful  eye, 

I'll  mind  you  still,  the'  far  awu'. 

Oft  have  I  met  your  social  band, 

And  spent  the  cheerful,  festive  night ; 
Oft,  honour'd  with  supreme  command, 

Presided  o'er  tlie  sons  of  light : 
And  by  that  hieroglyphic  brigljt, 

Which  none  but  craftsmen  over  s;nv  ! 
Strong  mera'ry  on  my  heart  shail  write 

Those  happy  scenes  when  far  awa'. 

May  freedom,  harmony,  and  love, 

tfnite  you  in  the  grand  design. 
Beneath  th'  omniscient  Eye  above, 

The  glorious  Architect  divine  ! 
That  you  may  keep  th'  tinerritig  line, 

Still  rising  by  the  plum nicVs  law, 


276  burns'  poems. 

Till  order  bright,  completely  shine, 
Still  be  my  pray'r  when  far  awa'. 

And  you,  farewell !  whose  merits  claims, 

Jnstly,  that  highest  badfje  to  wear! 
Heav'n  bless  your  honour'd,  noble  name, 

To  Masonry  and  Scotia  dear ! 
A  last  request,  permit  me  here, 

Wiien  yearly  ye  assemble  a', 
One  7'ound,  I  ask  it  with  a  tear, 

To  him,  the  Baud,  that's  far  aica'. 


SONG. 


Tune—"  Prepare  viy  dear  Brethren,  to  the 
Tavern  let's  fly." 

No  churchman  am  I  for  to  rail  and  to  write, 
No  statesman  nor  soldier  to  plot  or  to  fiji:ht. 
No  sly  man  of  business  contriving  a  snare. 
For  a  big-belly'd  bottle's  the  whole  of  my  care. 

The  peer  I  don't  envy,  I  give  him  his  bow  ; 

I  scorn  not  the  peasant,  tho'  ever  so  low  ; 

Hut  a  club  of  good  fellows,  like  those  that  are  here. 

And  a  bottle  like  this  are  my  glory  and  care. 

Here  passes  the  squire  on  his  brother — his  horse : 
There  centum  p  r  centum,  the  cit  with  his  purse; 
But  see  you  tlie  crown  how  it  waves  in  the  air, 
There  a  big-belly'd  bottle  still  eases  my  care. 

Tlie  wife  of  my  bosom,  alas  !  she  did  die  ; 
For  sweet  consolation  to  church  I  did  fly  ; 
I  found  that  old  Solomon  proved  it  fair,"^ 
That  a  big-belly'd  bottle's  a  cure  for  all  care. 


BURNS'  POE:\rs.  '277 

I  once  was  persuaded  a  venture  to  iiuiUe  ; 
A  letter  inform'd  itie  tliat  all  was  to  wreck  ; 
But  the  pursy  old  landlord  just  waddled  up  stairs, 
With  a  glorious  bottle  that  ended  my  cares. 

•  Life's  cares  they  are  comforts'* — a  maxim  laid  down 
By  tlie  bard,  what  d'ye  call  him  ?  that  woic  the  black 

gown  ; 
And  faith  I  asree  with  th'  old  prig  to  a  hair ; 
For  a  big-belly'd  bottle's  a  heaven  of  care. 


A  Stanza  added  in  a  Masoii  Lodge. 

Then  fill  up  a  bumper,  and  make  it  o'erflow, 
And  honours  masonic  prepare  for  to  throw  ; 
May  every  true  brother  of  the  compass  aiifl  >;(|uare, 
Have  a  big-belly'd  bottle  when  harass'd  with  cure. 


HIGHLAND  MARY. 
Tv^E—"  Katherine  Ogie." 

Yk  banks,  and  braes,  and  streams  around 

The  castle  o'  Montgomery, 
Green  be  your  woods,  and  fair  your  flowers, 

Your  waters  never  drumlie  ; 
There  simmer  first  unfauld  her  robes, 

And  there  the  langest  tarry  : 
For  there  I  took  the  last  farewoel 

O'  my  sweet  Highland  Mary, 

How  sweetly  bloom'd  the  gay  green  I)irk, 
How  rich  the  hawthorn's  blossom, 


•  Young's  Night  Thoiij.'!ii>. 


7'^  BURNS      rOEMS. 

As  underneath  tlieir  fragrant  sliade, 

I  clasp'd  lier  to  my  bosom  ! 
Tlie  'golden  hours,  on  an^^el-wings, 

Flew  o'er  mu  and  my  dearie  ; 
For  dear  to  rae,  as  light  and  life, 

Was  my  sweet  Highland  Mary  ! 

Wi'  mony  a  vow,  and  lock'd  embrace, 

Our  parting  was  fu'  tender ; 
And,  pledging  aft  to  meet  again, 

We  tore  oursels  asunder ; 
But  oh!  fell  death's  untimely  frost, 

Tliat  nipt  my  flower  sae  early  ! 
Now  green's  the  sod,  and  cauld's  the  clay, 

That  wraps  my  Highland  Mary  ! 

O  pale,  pale  now,  those  rosy  lips, 

I  aft  hae  kiss'd  sae  fondly! 
And  clos'd  for  aye  the  sparkling  glance 

That  dwelt  on  me  sae  kindly  ! 
And  mouldering  now  in  silent  dust 

That  heart  that  lo'ed  me  dearly — 
But  still  within  my  bosom's  core 

Shall  live  my  Highland  Mary  ? 


AULD  ROB  MORRIS. 

Tftere's  auld  Rob  Morris  that  wons  in  yon  glen, 
He's  the  king  o'  guid  fellows  and  wale  of  auld  men  : 
He  has  gowd  in  liis  coffers,  he  has  owsen  and  kine, 
And  ae  bonnie  lassie,  liis  darling  and  mine. 

Siie's  fresh  as  the  morning,  the  fairest  in  May  ; 
She's  sweet  as  the  ev'ning  araang  the  new  hay ; 
As  blithe  and  as  artless  as  the  lamb  on  the  leu, 
And  dear  to  my  heart  as  the  light  to  my  e'e. 


UTRNS     im)k:ms  Q-;i\ 

But,  oh  I  she's  an  heiress,  auld  Kobin  s  a  lainl. 
Anil  my  daddy  has  nought  but  a  cot-house  and  yard  • 
A  wooer  like  me  maunna  hope  to  come  speed  ; ' 
The  wounds  I  must  hide  that  will  soon  be  my  dead. 

The  day  comes  to  me,  hut  deli<j:ht  brinj^s  me  nane  • 
Tiie  ni»ht  comes  to  me,  but  my  rest  it  is  gane  ; 
I  wander  my  lane  like  a  night-troubled  ghaist, 
And  I  sigh  as  my  heart  it  wad  burst  in  my  breast 

0  had  slie  but  been  of  a  lower  degree, 

1  then  might  hae  hop'd  she  wad  smil'd  upon  me  ! 
(),  how  past  descriving  had  then  been  my  bli^s, 
As  now  my  distraction  no  words  can  express! 


DUNCAN  GRAY. 

Duncan  Gray  cam  here  to  woo, 

Ha,  ha,  the  wooing  o't, 
On  blithe  yule-night  when  we  were  fou, 

Ha,  ha,  the  wooing  o't, 
Maggie  coost  her  head  fu'  heigh, 
Look'd  asklent  and  unco  skeigh, 
Gart  poor  Duncan  stand  abeigh  ; 
Ha,  ha,  the  wooing  o't. 

Duncan  fleech'd  and  Duncan  pray'd  ; 

Ha,  ha,  &c. 
Meg  was  deaf  as  Ailsa  Craisr, 

Ha,  ha,  &c. 
Duncan  sigh'd  baith  out  and  in, 
Grat  his  een  baith  bleer't  and  blin'. 
Spak  o'lowpin  o'er  a  linn  ; 

Ha,  ha,  &c. 

Time  and  chance  are  but  a  tide, 

Ha,  ha,  &c. 
Slighted  love  is  sair  to  bide, 

Ha,  ha,  Sec. 


280  burns'  poems. 

Shall  I,  like  a  fool,  quotli  he, 
For  a  hauirhty  hizziu  die  ? 
Slie  may  go  to— France  for  me  ! 
Ila,  ha,  &c. 

How  it  comes  let  doctors  tell. 

Ha,  ha,  &c. 
Meg  grew  sick  as  he  grew  heal, 

Ila,  ha,  Sec. 
Sometliing  in  her  bosom  wrings, 
For  relief  a  sigh  she  brings, 
And  O,  her  een,  they  spak  sic  things ! 

Ha,  ha,  &;c. 

Duncan  was  a  lad  o'  grace. 

Ha,  ha,  &c. 
Maggie's  was  a  piteous  case, 

Ha,  ha,  &c. 
Duncan  could  na  be  her  death. 
Swelling  pity  sinoor'd  his  wrath  ; 
How  they're  crouse  and  canty  baith  ; 

Ha,  ha,  the  wooinf;  o't. 


GALL  A  WATER. 

There's  braw,  braw  lads  on  Yarrow  braes. 
That  wander  thro'  the  blooming  heather  : 

But  Yarrow  braes,  nor  Ettrick  shaws, 
Can  match  the  lads  o'  Galla  water. 

But  there  is  ane,  a  secret  ane, 
Aboon  them  a'  I  lo'e  him  better  ; 

And  I'll  be  his,  and  he'll  be  mine, 
The  bonnic  lad  o'  Galla  water. 

Altho'  his  daddie  was  nae  laird, 
And  tho'  I  hae  nae  raeikle  tocher ; 


BURNS      POKMS.  '281 

Yet  rich  in  kindest,  truest  love, 
We'll  tent  our  flocks  by  Galla  water. 

Ir  ne'er  was  wealth,  it  ne'er  was  wealth, 
Tliat  coft  contentment,  peace,  or  pleasure  : 

The  bands  and  bliss  o'  mutual  love, 
O  that's  the  chiefest  warld's  treasun; ! 


THE   SOLDIER'S    RETURX. 
Tune—"  The  Mill,  Mill  O." 

When  wild  war's  deadly  blast  was  bhnvn, 

And  gentle  peace  returning-, 
Wi'  mony  a  sweet  babe  fatlierless. 

And  mony  a  widow  mourning  ; 
I  left  the  lines  and  tented  field, 

Where  lang  I'd  been  a  lodgei'. 
My  humble  knapsack  a'  my'wealth, 

A  poor  but  honest  sodger. 

A  leal,  light  heart  was  in  my  breast, 

A  hand  unstahi'd  wi'  plunder  ; 
And  for  fair  Scotia,  hame  again, 

I  cheery  on  did  wander. 
I  thought  upon  the  banks  o'  Coil, 

I  thought  upon  my  Nancy  ; 
I  thought  upon  the  witching  smile 

That  caught  my  youthful  fancy. 

At  length  I  reach'd  the  bonnie  glen, 

Where  early  lile  I  sported; 
I  pass'd  the  mill,  and  trysting-thorn, 

Where  Nancy  aft  I  courted  : 
Wha  spied  I  but  my  ain  dear  maid. 

Down  by  her  mother's  dwellin;^  I 
And  turn'd  me  round  to  hide  the  flood 

That  in  mv  een  was  swelling. 


rS2  burns'  I'OEMS 

\Vi'  alter'd  voice,  qiiolli  I,  swoet  lass, 
Sweet  as  yon  liawtlioru's  blossom, 

0  !  liappy,  happy  may  he  he, 
That's  "dearest  to  thy  bosom  I 

IMy  purse  is  light,  I've  far  to  gancr, 
And  fain  would  be  thy  lodger ; 

I've  serv'd  my  kink  and  country  lang— 
Take  pity  on  a  sodger  ; 

Sae  wistfully  she  gaz'd  on  me, 

And  lovelier  grew  than  ever ; 
Quo'  she,  a  sodu'er  ance  I  lo'ed. 

Forget  him  shall  I  never  : 
Our  humble  cot  and  haraely  fare, 

Ye  freely  shall  partake  it; 
That  gallant  badge,  the  dear  cockade, 

Ye're  welcome  for  the  sake  o't. 

She  gaz'd— she  redden  like  a  rose — 
Syne  pale  like  ony  lilly. 

She  sank  within  my  arms  and  cried, 
Art  thou  my  ain  dear  Willie  ? 

By  Him  who  made  yon  sun  and  sky- 
By  whom  true  love's  regarded, 

1  am  the  man  ;  and  thus  may  still 
True  lovers  be  rewarded  ! 

The  wars  are  o'er,  and  I'm  come  hame, 

And  find  thee  still  true-hearted  ! 
Tho'  poor  in  gear,  we're  rich  in  love, 

And  mair  we'se  ne'er  be  parted. 
Quo'  she,  my  grandsire  left  me  gowd, 

A  mailen  plenish'd  fairly  ; 
And  come,  my  faith fu'  sodger  lad, 

Thou'rt  welcome  to  it  dearly. 

For  gold  the  merchant  ploughs  the  main. 
The  farmer  ploughs  the  manor; 


nURNS'    POEMS.  'JSS 


But  glory  is  the  sodper's  prizp, 
The  sodjjer's  wealth  is  honour  : 

Tlio  brave  poor  sodger  ne'er  despise 
Nor  count  him  as  a  stranger, 

Remember  he's  his  country  stay 
In  day  and  hour  of  danger. 


MEG  O'  THE  MILL. 

Tune—"  O  honnie  Lass  loill  ye  lie  in  a  Barraclt  V* 

O  KEN  ye  what  Meg  o'  the  Mill  has  gotten? 
And  ken  ye  what  Meg  o'  the  Mill  has  gotten? 
She  lias  gotten  a  coof  wi'  a  claut  o'  siller, 
And  broken  the  heart  o'  the  barley  Miller. 

The  Miller  was  strappin,  the  Miller  was  ruddy ; 
A  heart  like  a  lord,  and  a  hue  like  a  lady  : 
The  hiird  was  a  widdiefu',  bleerit  knurl : — 
She's  left  the  guid  fellow  and  ta'en  the  churl. 

The  Miller  he  hetcht  her  a  heart  leal  and  loving ; 
She  laird  did  address  her  wi'  matter  more  moving, 
A  fine  pacing-hor?e  wi'  a  clear-chained  bridle, 
A  whip  by  her  side,  and  a  bonnie  side-saddle. 

O  wae  on  the  siller,  it  is  sae  prevailing; 
And  wae  on  tlie  love  that  isfix'd  on  the  mailen! 
A  tocher's  nae  word  on  a  true  lover's  parle, 
But  gie  me  my  love,  and  a  fig  for  the  warl' ! 


SONG. 

Tune—*'  Logan  icate?-." 

O  Logan,  sweetly  didst  thou  glide, 
That  day  I  was  my  Willie's  bride  1 


*284  burns'  poems. 

Ami  years  sinsyne  liae  o'er  us  run, 
Like  Logan  to  the  simmer  sun, 
But  now  thy  flow'ry  banks  appe;ir 
Like  drumlie  winter,  dark  and  drear. 
While  my  dear  lad  maun  face  his  faes, 
Far,  far  frae  me  and  Logan  braes. 

Again  the  merry  month  o'  May 

Has  made  our  hills  and  valleys  gay ; 

Tiie  birds  rejoice  in  leafy  bowers, 

The  bees  hum  round  the  breathing  flowers  ; 

Blithe  raorniiiji-  lifts  his  rosy  eye, 

And  evening's  tears  are  tears  of  joy  ; 

My  soul,  delightless,  a'  surveys. 

While  Willie's  far  frae  Logan'braes. 

Within  yon  milk-white  hawthorn  bush, 
Araang'her  nestlings  sits  the  thrush, 
Her  faithfu'  mate  will  share  her  toil, 
Or  wi,  his  song  her  cares  beguile  : 
]?ut  I  wi'  my  sweet  nurslings  here, 
Nae  mate  to  help,  nae  mate  to  cheer. 
Pass  widow'd  nights  and  joyless  days, 
While  Willie's  far  frae  Logan  braes. 

O,  wae  upon  you,  men  o'  state, 
That  brethren  rouse  to  deadly  hate ! 
As  ye  make  many  a  fond  heart  mourn, 
Sae  may  it  on  your  heads  return  ! 
How  can  your  flinty  hearts  enjoy 
The  widow's  tears,  the  orphan's  cry  ? 
But  soon  may  peace  bring  happy  days, 
And  Willie  hame  to  Logan  braes! 


lUKNS     roKMS.  28o 


THE  LEA-RIG. 

When  o'er  tlie  hill  tlie  eastern  star 

Tells  bughtiii-time  is  near,  iny  jo, 
And  owsen  frae  the  fiirrow'd  field 

Return  sae  dowf  and  weary  O, 
Down  by  the  burn,  where  scented  birk» 

Wi'  dew  are  hansfing  clear,  my  jo, 
I'll  meet  thee  on  the  lea-rig, 

My  ain  kind  dearie  O. 

In  rairkest  glen,  at  midnight  hour, 

I'd  rove,  and  ne'er  be  eerie  O, 
If  thro'  that  glen  I  gaed  to  thee, 

My  ain  kind  dearie  O. 
Altho'  the  night  were  ne'er  sae  wild, 

And  I  were  ne'er  sae  wearie  O, 
I'd  meet  thee  on  the  lea-rig, 

My  ain  kind  dearie  O. 

The  hunter  lo'es  the  morning  sun. 

To  rouse  the  mountain  deer,  my  jo  ; 
At  noon  the  fisher  seeks  the  glen, 

Along  the  burn  to  steer,  my  jo ; 
Gie  me  the  hour  o' gloamin  grey. 

It  raaks  my  heart  sae  cheery  O, 
To  meet  thee  on  the  lea-rig. 

My  ain  kind  dearie  O. 


WANDERIXG  WILLIE. 

Hkre  awa,  there  awa,  wanderhig  Willie, 
Here  awa,  there  awa,  baud  awa  hame  ; 

Come  to  my  bosom  my  ain  only  dearie, 

Tell  me  thou  bring'st  me  ray  Willie  the  same. 


286  BURNS      rOKMS. 

Winter  whirls  blew  loud  and  cauld  at  our  partinj^, 
Fears  for  my  \yillie  brou.rht  tears  in  my  e'e. 

Welcome  now  simmer,  and  welcome  my  Willie, 
The  simmer  to  nature,  my  Willie  to  me. 

Rest,  ye  wild  storms,  in  the  cave  of  your  slumbers, 
How  your  dread  howling  a  lover  alarms  ! 

Wauken,  ye  breezes,  row  gently  ye  billows, 

And  waft  my  dear  laddie  ance  more  to  my  arms. 

But,  oh !  if  he's  faithless,  and  minds  na  his  Nannie, 
Flow  still  between  us,  thou  wide-roaring  main  j 

May  I  never  see  it,  may  I  never  trow  it, 
But,  dying,  believe  that  my  Willie's  my  ain. 


SONG. 

Tune—"  Robin  Adair:' 

Had  I  a  cave  on  some  wild,  distant  shore. 
Where  the  winds  howl  to  the  waves'  dashing  roar; 
There  would  I  weep  ray  woes, 
There  seek  my  lost  repose, 
Till  grief  my  eyes  should  close. 
Ne'er  to  wake  more, 

Falsest  of  womankind  !  canst  thou  declare, 
All  my  fond  plighted  vows— fleeting  as  air  ! 
To  thy  new  lover  hie, 
Laugh  o'er  thy  perjury, 
Then  in  thy  bosom  try' 
What  peace  is  there  ! 


WHISTLE,  AND  I'LL  COME  TO  YOU  MY  LAD. 

O  WHISTLE,  and  I'll  come  to  you,  my  lad  ; 
O  whistle,  and  I'll  come  to  you,  my  lad  : 
Tho'  father  and  raither  and  a'  should  g;ie  mad, 
O  whistle,  and  I'll  coum  taxan.  my  lad. 


BUllNS      I'OEMS.  -Ji^J 

But  warily  tent,  wlion  ye  come  to  court  nie, 
And  come  na  unless  the  back-yett  b(!  a-jee; 
Syne  up  the  back-style,  and  let  nae  body  se*-, 
And  come  as  ye  were"^  na  comiujj  to  me. 
And  come,  &c. 
O  whistle,  &,c. 

At  kirk,  or  at  market,  whene'er  ye  meet  me. 
Gang  by  me  as  tlio'  that  ye  car'd  na  u  flie  ; 
But  steal  me  a  blink  o'  your  bonnie  black  e'e, 
Yet  look  as  ye  were  na  lookin'  at  me, 
Yet  look,  &c. 
O  whistle,  &c. 

Ay  vow  and  protest  that  ye  care  na  for  me. 
And  whyles  ye  may  lightly  my  beauty  a  wee  : 
But  court  na  anither,  tho' jokiu'  ye  be". 
For  fear  that  she  whyle  your  fancy  frae  mo. 
For  fear,  &c. 
O  whistle,  &c. 


DAINTY  DAVIE. 

Now  rosy  May  comes  in  wi'  flowers, 
To  deck  her  gay,  green  spreading  boweraj 
And  now  comes  in  my  happy  houis, 
To  wander  wi'  my  Davie. 

Meet  me  on  the  warlock  knowe ! 

Dainty  Davie,  dainty  Davie, 
There  I'll  spend  the  day  wi'  you. 

My  ain  dear  dainty  Davie. 

The  crystal  waters  round  us  fa,' 
Tlie  merry  birds  are  lovers  a', 
Tlie  scented  breezes  round  ns  bhnv, 
A  wandering  wi'  my  Davie. 
Meet  me,  &c. 


268  iJUUNs'   I'OKMS. 

When  purple  inorniiifr  starts  the  hare, 
To  steal  upon  her  early  fare, 
Tlien  thro'  the  dews  I  will  repair, 
To  meet  my  faithfu'  Davie, 
Meet  me,  &c. 

When  day,  expiring  in  the  west, 
The  curtains  draws  o'  nature's  rest, 
I  flee  to  his  arms  I  lo'e  best, 

And  that's  my  ain  dear  Davie. 


Meet  me  on  the  warlock  knowe, 
Bonnie  Davie,  dainty  Davie. 

There  I'll  spend  the  day  wi'  you, 
My  ain  dear  dainty  Davie. 


AULD  LANG  SYNE. 

Should  auld  acquaintance  be  forgot 
And  never  brought  to  min'  ? 

Should  auld  acquaintance  be  forgot. 
And  days  o'  lang  syne  ? 


For  auld  lane;:  syne,  my  dear. 

For  auld  lang  syne. 
We'll  tak  a  cup  o'  kindness  yet. 

For  auld  lang  syne. 

We  twa  hae  run  about  the  braes, 

And  pu'd  the  gowans  tine  : 
But  we've  wander'd  mony  a  weary  loot 

Sin  auld  lang  syne. 

For  auld,  &c. 


9V 

I 


burns'  pokms.  280 

We  twa  liae  paidl't  i'  the  burn, 

Frae  morning  sun  till  dine  ; 
But  seas  between  us  braid  hue  roar'd 

Sin  auld  lang  syne. 

For  auld,  &c. 

And  here's  a  hand  my  trusty  Here, 

And  gie's  a  hand  o'  thine ; 
And  we'll  tak  a  right  guid  willie-wauglit, 

For  auld  lang  syne. 

For  auld,  &c. 

A  nd  surely  ye'll  be  your  pint-stoup, 

And  surely  I'll  be  mine : 
And  we'll  tak  a  cup  o'  kindness  yet, 

For  auld  lang  syne. 

For  auld,  &c. 


BAXNOCKBURN. 

KOBERT  BUUCES  ADDRESS  TO  HIS  AU.Vl 

Scots,  wha  hae  wi'  Wallace  bled, 
Scots,  wham  bruce  has  af'ten  led; 
Welcome  to  your  gory  bed, 
Or  to  glorious  vietorie ! 

Now's  the  day,  and  now's  the  hour— 
S(  e  the  front V  battle  lower ; 
See  approach  proud  Edward's  power — 
Edward  !  chains  and  slaverie  ! 

Wha  will  be  a  traitor-knave  ? 
Wha  can  fill  a  coward's  grave  ? 
Wlia  sae  base  as  be  a  sl^ve  ? 
Traitor !  coward  !  turn  and  flee  ! 
17  u 


200  burns'    I'OEMS. 

Wha  for  Scotland's  king  and  law 
Freedom's  sword  will  strongly  draw, 
Freeman  stand,  or  freeman  fa', 
Caledonian !  on  wi'  me  ! 

By  oppression's  woes  and  pains  ! 
By  our  sons  in  servile  chains ! 
We  will  drain  our  dearest  veins, 
But  they  shall  be— shall  be  free ! 

Lay  the  proud  usurpers  low  ! 
Tyrants  fall  in  every  foe  ! 
Liberty's  in  every  blow  ! 
Forward  I  let  us  do,  or  die  ! 


SONG. 
Tune—"  Ca'  the  Yowes  to  the  Kfiowea.** 

CUORUS. 

Ca'  the  yowes  to  the  knowes, 
Ca'  them  whare  the  heather  grows, 
Ca'  them  whare  the  bui-nie  rowes, 
My  bonnie  dearie. 

Hark,  the  mavis'  evening  sang 
Sounding  Clouden's  woods  amang ; 
Then  a  faulding  let  us  gang. 
My  bonnie  dearie. 
Ca'  the  yowes,  &c. 

We'll  gae  down  by  Clouden  side, 
Thro'  the  hazels  spreading  wide, 
O'er  the  waves  that  sweetly  glide 
To  the  moon  sae  clearly. 
Ca'  the  yowes,  ^c. 


burns'  roKMs.  291 

Yonder  Clouden's  silent  towers, 
Where  at  moonshine  midniglit  houis, 
O'er  the  dewy  bendin;^  flowers, 
Fairies  dance  sae  cheery. 
Ca'  the  yowes,  &c. 

Ghaist  nor  bogle  shalt  thou  fear  ; 
Thou'rt  to  love  and  heaven  sae  dear, 
Nought  of  ill  may  come  thee  near, 
My  bonnie  dearie. 
Ca'  the  yowes,  &c. 

Fair  and  lovely  as  thou  art, 
Thou  hast  stown  my  very  heart ; 
I  can  die— but  canna  part, 
My  bonnie  dearie. 
Ca'  the  yowes,  &c. 


SHE  SAYS  SHE  LO'ES  ME  BEST  OF  A' 
Tune—"  Onagh's  Water-fnlL" 

Sae  flaxen  were  her  ringlets, 

Her  eye-brows  of  a  darker  hue, 
Bewitchingly  o'er-arching 

Twa  laughing  een  o'  bonnie  blue, 
Her  smiling  sae  wyling, 

Wad  make  a  wretch  forget  his  woe ; 
What  pleasure,  what  treasure, 

Unto  those  rosy  lips  to  grow  : 
Such  was  my  Chloris'  bonnie  face. 

When  first  her  bonnie  face  I  saw, 
And  ay  my  Chloris'  dearest  charm, 

She  says  she  lo'es  me  best  of  a'. 


292  burns'  roEMS. 

Like  harmony  her  raolion  ; 

Her  pretty  ancle  is  a  spy 
lietraying  fair  proportion, 

Wad  make  a  saint  forget  tlie  sky. 
Sae  warming,  s;ie  cliarming, 

Her  faultless  form  and  gracefu'  air  ; 
Ilk  feature — auld  Nature 

Declar'd  that  she  could  do  nae  mair : 
Her's  are  the  willing  chains  o'  love. 

By  conquering:  beauty's  sovereign  law  ; 
And  ay  my  Chloris'  dearest  charm, 

She  says  she  lo'es  me  best  of  a'. 

Let  others  love  the  city, 

And  gaudy  shew  at  sunny  noon ; 
Gie  me  the  lonely  valley, 

The  dewy  eve  and  rising  moon 
Fair  beaming,  and  streaming. 

Her  silver  light  the  boughs  amang  ; 
While  falling,  recalling, 

The  amorous  thrush  concludes  her  sang 
Tliere,  dearest  Cliloris,  wilt  thou  rove 

By  wimpling  burn  and  leafy  shaw, 
And  hear  my  vows  o'  truth  and  love, 

To  say  thou  lo'es  me  best  of  a'  ? 


LASSIE  Wr  THE  LINT-WHITE  LOCKS. 

Tune—" Eotheniurchus  Itcod." 


Lassie  wi'  the  lint-white  locks, 
Bonnie  lassie,  artless  lassie, 

Wilt  thou  tent  wi'  me  the  flock.-;  ? 
Wilt  thou  be  ray  dearie  O  ? 

Now  nature  deeds  the  flowery  lea. 
And  a'  is  young  and  sweet  like  thee  , 


burns'  poems.  2^/3 

0  wilt  thou  share  its  joys  wi'  lur. 
And  say  tliou'lt  be  my  dearie  O  ? 
Lassie  wi',  &;c. 

And  when  the  welcome  simraer-shower 
Has  cheer'd  ilk  droopin<^  little  flower, 
We'll  to  the  breathing  woodbine  bower 
At  sultry  noon,  ray  dearie  O. 
Lassie  wi',  &c. 

When  Cynthia  liglits,  wi'  silver  ray, 
The  weary  shearer's  luuneward  way  ; 
Thro'  yellow  waviusz  lields  we'll  stniv, 
And  talk  o'  love,  my  dearie  O. 
Lassie  wi',  &c. 

And  when  the  howling  wintry  blast 
Disturbs  my  lassie's  midnight  rest ; 
Enclasped  to  my  faithfu'  breast, 
I'll  comfort  thee,  my  dearie  O. 

Lassie  wi'  the  lint-white  locks, 

Bonnie  lassie,  artless  lassie, 
Wilt  thou  wi'  me  tent  the  flocks  ? 

W^ilt  thou  be  ray  dearie  O  ? 


FOR  A'  THAT  AND  A'  THAT. 

Is  there,  for  honest  poverty, 

That  hangs  his  head,  and  a'  that ; 
The  coward-slave,  we  pass  him  by, 

And  dare  be  poor  for  a'  that. 
For  a'  that,  and  a'  that, 

Our  toils  obscure,  and  a'  that, 
Tile  rank  is  but  the  guinea's  stam;>. 

The  man's  the  gowd  for  a'  thau 


294  burns'  pokms. 

What  tlio'  on  liaraely  fare  we  dine, 

Wear  lioddin  ^'rey,  and  a'  that; 
Gie  fools  their  silks,  and  knaves  their  wine, 

A  man's  a  man  for  a'  that ; 
For  a'  that,  and  a'  tliat, 

Their  tinsel  show,  and  a'  that  ; 
An  honest  man,  though  e'er  sae  poor, 

Is  kinj^  o'  men  for  a'  that. 

Ye  see  yon  birkie  ca'd  a  lord, 

Wha  struts,  and  stares,  and  a'  that  ; 
Tho'  hundreds  worship  at  his  word. 

He's  but  a  coof  for  a'  that ; 
For  a'  that,  and  a'  that, 

His  riband)  star,  and  a'  that. 
The  man  of  independent  mind, 

He  loolcs  and  laughs  at  a'  that. 

A  prince  can  make  a  belted  knight, 

A  marquis,  duke,  and  a'  that ; 
But  an  honest  man's  aboon  his  might, 

Guid  faith  he  mauna  fa'  that ! 
For  a'  that,  and  a'  that, 

Their  dignities,  and  a'  that, 
Tlie  pith  o'  sense,  and  pride  o'  worth. 

Are  higher  ranks  than  a'  that. 

Then  let  us  pray,  that  come  it  may 

As  come  it  will  for  a'  that, 
Wiien  sense  and  worth,  o'er  a'  the  eartli, 

Shall  bear  the  gree,  and  a'  that ; 
For  a'  that,  and  a'  that. 

It's  coming  yet,  for  a'  that. 
When  man  and  man,  the  warld  oVr, 

Shall  brothers  be,  and  a'  that. 


H urns'  poems.  2!)o 

SONG. 

TtTNE — "  Let  me  in  this  ae  Nlyht.** 

O  LASSIE,  art  thou  sleepinp:  yet ! 
Or  art  thou  wakin',  I  would  wit  ? 
For  love  has  bound  ine,  hand  and  foot, 
And  I  would  fain  be  in,  jo. 

CHORUS. 

O  let  me  in  this  ae  night, 

This  ae,  ae,  ae  night ; 
For  pity's  sake  this  ae  night, 

O  rise  and  let  me  in,  jo. 

Thou  hear'st  the  winter  wind  and  weet, 
Nae  star  blinks  thro'  tlie  driving  sleet ; 
Tak  pity  on  my  weary  feet, 
And  shield  me  frae  the  rain,  jo. 
O  let  me  in,  &c. 

The  bitter  blast  that  round  me  blaws 
Unheeded  howls,  unheeded  fa's  ; 
The  cauldness  o'  thy  heart's  the  cause. 
Of  a'  my  grief  and  pain,  jo. 
O  let  me  in,  &c. 


HER  ANSWER. 

O  TELL  na  me  o'  wind  and  rain  ! 
Upbraid  na  me  wi'  cauld  disdain  ! 
Gae  back  the  gate  ye  cam  again, 
I  winna  let  you  hi,  jo. 


I  tell  you  now  this  ae  night, 
This  ae,  ae,  ae  niglit : 


206  uuii.Ns'  roKMS. 

And  ance  for  a'  this  ae  night, 
I  wiuna  let  you  in,  jo. 

Tlie  snellest  blast,  at  rairkcst  liours, 
That  rounfi  the  pathless  wand'rer  pours, 
Is  nought  to  what  poor  she  endures, 
That's  trusted  faithless  man,  jo. 
I  tell  you  now,  &cc. 

The  sweetest  flower  that  deck'd  the  mead, 
Now  trodden  like  the  vilest  weed  ; 
Let  simple  maid  the  lesson  read, 
The  weird  may  he  her  ain,  jo. 
I  tell  you  now,  &c. 

The  bird  that  charm'd  the  summer-day, 
Is  now  the  cruel  fowler's  prey ; 
Let  witless,  trusting,  woman,  say 
How  aft  her  fate's  the  same,  jo. 
I  tell  you  now,  &c. 


CALEDONIA. 

Tune—"  Humours  of  GlenJ" 

Their  groves  o'  sweet  myrtle  let  foreign  lands  reckon, 
Where  bright-beaming  summers  exalt  the  perfume, 

Far  dearer  to  me  yon  lone  glen  o'  green  breckan, 
Wi'the  burn  stealing  under  the  lang  yellow  broom. 

Far  dearer  to  me  are  yon  humble  broom  bowers, 
Where  the  blue-bell  and  gowan  lurk  lowly  unseen  : 

For  there,  lightly  tripping  araang  the  wild  flowers, 
A  listening  the  linnet,  aft  wanders  my  Jean. 

Tho'  rich  is  the  breeze  in  their  gay  sunny  valleys. 
And  cauld  Caledonia's  blast  on  the  wave, 


BrilNS'    POKMS.  2(}7 

Their  sweet-scented  woodlands  that  skirt  tlic  proud 
palace, 
^VJ)at  are   they  ?— The   haunt  of  the  tyrant  and 
slave ! 

The  slave's  spicy  forests, and  gold-bubblin-i  fountains, 
The  brave  Caledonian  views  witii  disdain  ; 

He  wanders  as  free  as  the  winds  of  his  mountains. 
Save  love's  willing  fetters,  the  charms  oi  his  Jean. 


SONG. 
Tune— "T/r/s  is  no  my  ain  House." 

CHORUS. 

O  THIS  is  no  my  ain  lassie, 

Fair  tho'  the  lassie  be  ; 
O  weel  ken  I  my  ain  lassie, 

Kind  love  is  in  her  ee. 

I  see  a  form,  I  see  a  face, 
Ye  weel  may  wi'  the  fairest  place  : 
It  wants,  to  me,  tlie  witch in<?  trrace, 
The  kind  love  that's  in  her  ee. 
O  this  is  no,  Sec. 

She's  bonnie,  blooming,  strai<^ht,  and  I  all, 
And  lang  has  had  my  heart  in  tlirall ! 
And  aye  it  charms  my  very  saul, 
The  kind  love  that's  in  her  ee. 
O  this  is  no,  &c. 

A  thief  sae  pawkie  is  my  Jean, 
To  steal  a  blink,  by  a'  unseen  ; 
J}nt  gleg  as  light  as  lovers'  een, 
When  kind  love  is  in  tho  ee. 
O  this  is  no,  kc. 


298  uriiNs'  POEMS. 

It  may  escape  tlie  courtly  sparks, 

It  may  escape  the  learned  clerk?  ; 

But  \veel  the  watching  lover  marks 

The  kind  love  that's  in  her  ee. 

O  this  is  no,  &c. 


SCOTTISH  BALLAD. 
Tune—"  The  Lothian  Lassie." 

Last  May  a  braw  wooer  cam  down  the  lang  glen, 
And  sair  wi'  his  love  he  did  deave  me  ; 

I  said  there  was  naething  I  hated  like  men, 
The  deuce  gae  wi'm,  to  believe  me,  believe  me, 
The  deuce  gae  wi'm,  to  believe  me. 

He  spak  o'  the  darts  in  my  bonnie  black  een. 

And  vow'd  for  ray  love  he  was  dying  ; 
I  said  he  might  die*  when  he  liked,  for  Jean, 

The  Lord  forgie  me  for  lying,  for  lying, 

The  Lord  forgie  me  for  lying  ! 

A  weel-stocked  mailen,  himsel  for  the  laird, 
And  marriage  aff-hand,  were  his  proffers  : 

I  never  loot  on  that  I  kenn'd  it,  or  cared, 

But  thought  I  might  hae  waur  offers,  waur  offers. 
But  thought  I  might  hae  waur  offers, 

But  what  wad  ye  think  ? — in  a  fortnight  or  less, 

The  deil  tak  his  taste  to  gae  near  her  ! 
He  up  the  lang  loan  to  my  black  cousin  Bess, 

Guess  ye  how,  the  jad  !     I  could  bear  her,  could  I 
bear  her, 

Guess  ye  how,  the  jad  !  I  could  bear  her. 

But  a'  the  niest  week  as  I  fretted  wi'  care, 
I  gaed  to  the  tryste  o'  Dalgarnock, 


burns'  poems.  209 

Ami  wlia  but  my  fine  fickle  lover  was  tliore, 
I  glowr'd  as  I'd  seen  a  warlock,  a  warlock, 
I  glowr'd  as  I'd  seen  a  warlock. 

But  owre  my  left  slioutlier  I  <;ae  him  a  blink. 

Lest  neebors  might  say  I  was  saucy  ; 
My  wooer  he  capei'd  as  he'd  been  in  drink, 

And  vow'd  I  was  his  dear  lassie,  dear  lassie, 

And  vow'd  I  was  his  dear  lassie. 

I  spier'd  for  my  cousin  fu'  conthy  and  sweet. 

Gin  she  had  recover'd  her  hcarin'. 
And  how  her  new  slioon  fit  her  auld  shackl't  feet. 

But,  heav'ns  !  how  he  fell  a  swearin',  a  swearin' 

But,  heav'ns  !  how  he  fell  a  swearin'. 

He  hedged,  for  Gudesake  !  I  wad  be  his  wife, 

Or  else  I  wad  kill  him  wi'  sorrow  ; 
So  e'en  to  preserve  the  poor  body  in  life, 

I  tiiink  I  maun  wed  him  to-morrow,  to-morrow, 

I  think  I  maun  wed  him  to-morrow. 


* 


HEY  FOR  A  LASS  WI'  A  TOCHER. 

TuNK— ",i?«/t//r//yio/m  ora." 

AwA  wi'  your  witchcraft  o'  beauty's  alarms, 
The  slender  bit  beauty  you  grasp  in  your  arms  ; 
O,  gie  me  the  lass  that  has  acres  o'  charms, 
O,  gie  me  the  lass  wi'  the  weel-stockit  farms. 


Then  hey,   for  a  lass  wi'  a  tocher,  then  hey,  for  a 

lass  wi'  a  tocher. 
Then  hey,  for  a  lass  wi'  a  tocher;  the  nice  yellow 

guineas  for  me. 


,"00  BURNS     roEMS. 

Your  beauty's  a  flower,  in  tlie  morning  tliat  blows, 
And  withers  tlie  faster,  the  faster  it  ^rows  ; 
]iut  the  rapturous  cliarm  o'  the  bonnie  green  knowes, 
Illc  spring  they're  new  deckit  wi'  bonnie  white  yowes. 
Tlien  hey,  &c. 

And  e'en  wlien  this  beauty  your  bosom  lias  blest, 
Tlie  brightest  o'  beauty  may  cloy  when  possest ; 
But  the  sweet  yellow  darlings  wi'  Geordie  imprest, 
The  langer  ye  hae  them— the  mair  they're  carest. 
Then  hey,  &c. 


SONG. 
Tun  E— "  Here's  a  health  to  them  thaVs  cava,  hiney. 

CHORUS. 

Here's  a  health  to  ane  I  lo'edear, 

Here's  a  health  to  ane  I  lo'e  dear ; 

Tiiou  art  sweet  as  the  smile  when  fond  lovers  meet, 

And  soft  as  their  parting  tear — Jessy  ! 

Altho'  thou  maun  never  be  mine, 

Altho'  even  hope  is  denied, 
'Tis  sweeter  for  thee  despairing, 

Than  aught  in  the  world  beside— Jessy  ! 
Here's  a  health,  &c.        • 

I  mourn  thro'  the  gay,  gaudy  day, 
As,  hopeless,  I  muse  on  thy  charms. 

But  welcome  the  dream  o'  sweet  slumber, 
For  then  I  am  lockt  iu  thy  arms — Jessy ! 
Here's  a  health,  &c. 

I  ecuess  by  the  dear  angel-smile, 

I  guess  by  the  love-rolling  ee ; 
But  why  urge  the  tender  confession, 

'Gainst  fortune's  fell  cruel  decree— Jes-sy  ! 
Here's  a  healtli,  &c. 


nURNS'    POEMS.  301 


THE  BIRKS  OF  ABERFELDY 


Bonnie  lassie,  will  ye  go,  will  ye  go,  will  ye  po, 
Tloiinie  lassie,  will  ye  go  to  the  IBirks  of  Aberfeldy  ? 

Now  simmer  blinks  on  flowery  braes. 
And  o'er  the  crystal  streamlet  plays, 
Come  let  us  spend  liijhtsome  days 
In  the  Birks  of  Aberfeldy. 
Bonnie  lassie,  &c. 

While  o'er  their  heads  the  hazels  hint:, 
'iie  little  birdies  blithely  sing, 
jr  lightly  flit  on  wanton  wing 
In  the  Birks  of  Aberfeldy, 
Bonnie  lassie,  &c. 

The  braes  ascend  like  lofty  wa's, 
The  foaming  stream  deep-roaring  fa's, 
O'erhung  wi'  fragrant  spreading  shaws, 
The  Birks  of  Aberfeldy. 
Bonnie  lassie,  kc. 

The  hoary  cliffs  are  crown'd  wi'  flowers, 
White  o'er  the  linns  the  burnie  pours. 
And  rising  weets  wi'  misty  showers, 
The  Birks  of  Aberfeldy. 
Bonnie  lassie,  &c. 

Let  fortune's  gifts  at  random  flee. 
They  ne'er  shall  draw  a  wish  frae  me, 
Supremely  blest  wi'  love  and  thee, 
In  the  IBirks  of  Aberfeldy. 
Bonnie  lassie,  &c. 


302  burns'  poems. 

BLITHE  WAS  SHE. 

CHOKUS. 

BhiTiiE,  blitlie  and  merry  was  slie» 
Blithe  was  she  but  and  hen  ; 

Blithe  by  the  banks  of  Ern, 
And  blithe  in  Glenturit  glen. 

By  Oushtertyre  prows  the  aik, 
On  Yarrow"  banks,  the  birken  shaw  , 

But  Phemie  was  a  bonnier  lass 
Then  braes  o'  Yarrow  ever  saw. 
Blithe,  &c. 

Her  looks  were  like  a  flower  in  May, 
Her  smile  was  like  a  simmer  morn, 
:e  tripp'd  by  the  banks  of  Ern 
As  light's  a  bird  upon  a  thorn. 
Blithe,  &c. 

Her  bonnie  face  it  was  as  meek 

As  ony  lamb  upon  a  lee  ; 
Tlie  evening?  sun  was  ne'er  sae  sweet 

As  was  the  blink  o'  Phemie's  ee. 
Blithe,  &c. 

The  Highland  hills  I've  wander'd  wide, 
And  o'er  the  Lowlands  I  hae  been  ; 

But  Phemie  was  the  blithest  lass 
Tliat  ever  trod  the  dewy  green. 
Blithe,  &c. 


SONG. 
Tune—"  My  Lodging  is  on  the  cold  ground. 
My  Chloris,  mark  how  green  the  groves, 
The  primrose  banks  how  fair  : 


BURNS'    POEMS.  303 

She  balmy  gales  awake  the  flo\vcri«, 
And  wave  thy  flaxen  hair. 

The  lav'rock  shuns  the  palace  gay, 

And  o'er  the  cottage  sings  ; 
For  nature  smiles  as  sweet,  I  ween, 

To  shepherds  as  to  kings. 

Let  minstrels  sweep  the  skilfu'  string 

In  lordly  lightly  ha' : 
The  shepherd  stops  his  simple  reed, 

Blithe,  in  the  birken  shaw. 

The  princely  revel  may  survey 

Our  rustic  dance  wi'  scorn  ; 
But  are  there  hearts  as  light  as  ours 

Beneath  the  milk-white  thoni  ? 

The  shepherd,  in  the  flowery  glen, 

In  shepherd's  phrase  will  woo  : 
The  courtier  tells  a  finer  tale, 

But  is  his  heart  as  true  ? 

These  wild-wood  flowers  I've  pu'd,  to  deck 

That  spotless  breast  o'  thine  : 
The  courtiers'  gems  may  witness  love — 

But  'tis  na  love  like  mine. 


I  LOVE  MY  JEAN. 
Tune— "  J/iw  Admiral  Gordon's  Stratlispcf/. 
Op  a'  the  airts  the  wind  can  blaw, 

I  dearly  like  the  west. 
For  there  the  bonnie  lassie  lives. 

The  lassie  I  lo'e  best : 
There  wild  woods  crow,  and  rivers  row, 
And  mony  a  hill  between ; 


304  BUlliNS      rOKMS. 

But  day  and  niglit  my  fancy's  fli^'ht 
Is  ever  \vi'  my  Jean. 

I  see  her  in  the  dewy  flowers, 

I  see  her  sweet  and  fair  : 
I  hear  her  in  tlie  tunefu'  birds, 

I  hear  her  charm  the  air  : 
There's  not  a  bonnie  flower  that  spnn:j;s 

By  fountain  shaw,  or  green, 
Tliere's  not  a  bonnie  bird  that  sings, 

But  minds  me  o'  my  Jean. 


WILLIE  BREW'D  A  PECK  O'  MaUTc 

O.  Willie  brew'd  a  peck  o'  maut, 

And  Rob  and  Allan  cam  to  see ; 
Tliree  blither  liearts  that  lee-lang  night 

Ye  wad  na  find  in  Chrlstehdie. 

We  are  na  fou,  we're  na  that  fou, 

But  just  a  drappie  in  our  ee  ; 
The  cock  may  craw,  the  day  may  daw, 

And  aye  we'll  taste  the  barley"  bree. 

Were  are  we  met,  three  merry  boys, 
Tiiree  merry  boys  I  trow  are  we ; 

And  mony  a  night  we've  merry  been, 
And  raony  mae  we  hope  to  be ! 
We  are  na  fou,  &c. 

It  is  the  moon,  I  ken  her  horn. 
That's  blinking  in  the  lift  sae  higli ; 

blip  shines  sae  bright  to  whyle  us  luime.. 
But  by  ray  sooth,  she'll  wait  a  wee ! 
We  are  na  fou,  &c. 

^^'llat  first  shall  rise  to  gang  awa, 
A  cuckold,  coward  loan  is  ho ! 


burns'  poems.  305 


Wlm  last  beside  his  chair  shall  fa'. 
He  is  the  kinix  amang  us  throe  ! 
We  are  na  ton,  &c. 


TAM    GLEN. 

My  heart  is  a  breaking,  dear  Tittie, 
Some  counsel  unto  me  come  len', 

To  anger  them  a'  is  a  pity  ; 

But  what  will  I  do  wi'  Tara  Glen  ? 

I'm  thinking,  wi'  sic  a  braw  fellow, 
In  poortith  I  might  mak  a  fen' ; 

"Wliat  care  I  in  riches  to  wallow, 
If  I  mauna  marry  Tarn  Glen  ? 

There's  Lowrie  the  laird  o'  Drumeller, 
"  Gude  day  to  you,  brute,"  he  comes  ben 

He  brags  and  he  blaws  o'  his  siller. 

But  when  will  he  dance  like  Tarn  Glen  ? 

My  rainnie  does  constantly  deave  me, 
And  bids  me  beware  o'  young  men  ; 

They  flatter,  she  says,  to  deceive  me  ; 
But  wha  can  think  sae  o'  Tam  Glen  ? 

My  daddie  says,  gin  I'll  forsake  him. 
He'll  gie  me  guid  bunder  marks  ten  ; 

But,  if  it's  ordain'd  I  maun  tak  him, 
O  wlia  will  I  get  but  Tam  Glen  ? 

Yestreen  at  the  Valentine's  dealing, 
My  heart  to  my  mou  gied  a  sten  ; 

For  thrice  I  drew  ane  without  failing. 
And  thrice  it  was  written,  Tam  Glen. 

The  last  Halloween  I  was  waukin 
My  droukit  eark-fleeve   as  ye  ken  ; 
17  X 


306  burns'  i'Oi:ms. 

His  likeness  cam  up  the  house  staukin. 
And  the  very  grey  breeks  o'  Tain  Glen 

Corae  counsel,  dear  Tittie,  don't  tarry  ; 

I'll  gie  you  my  bonnie  black  hen, 
Gif  ye  will  advise  me  to  marry 

The  lad  I  lo'e  doarlv,  Tarn  Glen. 


WHAT  CAN  A  YOUNG  LASSIE  DO  WI'  AN 
AULD  MAN? 

What  can  a  young  lassie,  what  shall  a  young  lassie, 
What  can  a  young  lassie  do  wi'  an  auld  man  ? 

Bad  luck  on  the  pennie  that  tempted  my  minnie 
To  sell  her  poor  Jenny  for  siller  an'  Ian' ! 
Bad  luck  on  the  pennie,  &c. 

He's  always  compleenin'  frae  momin'  to  e'enin', 
He  hosts  and  he  liirples  the  weary  day  lang  ; 

He's  doyl't,  and  lie's  dozin,  his  bluid  it  is  frozen, 
O,  dreary's  the  night  wi'  a  crazy  auld  man  ; 

He  hums  and  he  hankers,  he  frets  and  he  cankers, 
I  never  can  please  him,  do  a'  tJiat  I  can  ; 

He's  peevish  and  jealous  of  a'  the  young  fellows  : 
O,  dool  on  the  day  I  met  wi'  an  auld  man ! 

iMy  auld  auntie  Katie  upon  me  takes  pity, 
I'll  do  my  endeavour  to  follow  her  plan  ; 

I'll  cross  him,  and  wrack  him,  until  I  heart-break  him, 
And  then  his  auld  brass  will  buy  me  a  new  pan. 


RUKNS    roi-.MS.  007 

O    roil  ANE  AND  TWENTY,  TAM! 
Tune—"  The  Moudicwortr 

CHORUS. 

An'  O,  for  ane  and  twenty,  Tarn! 

An'  hey,  sweet  ane  and  twenty,  Tarn  ! 
I'll  learniuy  kin  a  rattlin  sang-," 

And  I  saw  ane  and  twenty,  Tam. 

Tliey  snool  me  sair,  and  liaud  me  down, 
And  gar  me  look  like  bl untie,  Tam  , 

But  three  short  years  will  soon  wheel  rnun', 
And  then  comes  ane  and  twenty,  T;ii!i ! 
An*  O,  for  ane,  Sec. 

A  srleib  o'  Ian',  a  claut  o'  gear. 

NV'as  left  me  my  auntie,  Tam  ; 
At  kith  or  kin  I  need  na  spier. 

An'  I  saw  ane  and  twenty,  Tam. 
An'  O,  for  ane,  &c. 

Tiiey'll  hae  me  wed  a  wealthy  coof, 

Tho'  I  mysel'  hae  plenty,  Tain  ; 
But  hear'st  thou,  laddie,  there's  mv  Inof, 

I'm  thine  at  ane  and  twenty.  Tarn  I 
An'  O,  for  ane,  &c. 

THE  BANKS  O'  DOON. 

Ye  banks  and  braes  o'  bonnie  Doon, 
How  can  ye  bloom  sae  fresh  and  fair ; 

How  can  ye  chant,  ye  little  birds. 
And  I  sae  weary,  fu'  o'  care  ! 

Thou'lt  break  my  heart,  thou  warblinir  bird, 
That  wantons 'thro'  the  Howeriii^  thorn: 


308  burns'  poems. 

riiou  nainds  nie  o'  departed  joys, 
Departed  iievor  to  return. 

Oft  hae  I  roved  by  bonnie  Doon, 

To  see  the  rose  and  woodbine  twine  ; 
And  ilka  bird  san-j:  o'  its  love, 

And  fondly  sae  did  I  o'  mine, 
Wi'  li;,'htsoine  heart  I  pu'd  a  rose, 

Fii'  sweet  upon  its  tliorny  tree ; 
And  my  f'auie  lover  stole  my  rose, 

But  ah !  lie  left  ilie  thorn  wi'  me. 


SIC  A  WIFE  AS  WILLIE  HAD. 

Willie  Wastle  dwalt  on  Tweed, 

The  spot  they  ca'd  it  Linlcuradoddie, 
Willie  was  a  wabster  guid, 

Cou'd  stown  a  clue  wi'  onie  bodie; 
He  had  a  wife  was  dour  and  diii, 
O  Tinkler  Maggie  was  her  mither  ; 
Sic  a  wife  as  Willie  had, 
I  wad  na  gie  a  button  for  her. 

She  has  an  ee,  she  has  but  ane. 
The  cat  has  twa  the  very  colour  , 

Five  rusty  teeth,  forbye  a  stump, 

A  clapper  tongue  wad  deave  a  miller  ; 

A  whisk  in'  beard  about  her  mou', 
Her  nose  and  chin  they  threaten  itlier 
Sic  a  wiie.  Sec. 

She's  bow-hough'd,  she's  hein-shinn'd, 
Ae  limpin'  leg  a  hand-breed  shorter  ; 

She's  twisted  right,  siie's  twisted  left. 
To  balance  fair  in  ilka  quarter: 

She  has  a  hump  upon  her  breast, 
The  twin  o'  that  upon  her  shouther ; 
Sic  a  wiie,  &c. 


BURNS      POEMS.  309 

Auld  baudrans  by  tlie  inple  sits, 

An'  wi'  lier  loot"  ber  face  a-wasbin'  ; 
But  Willie's  wife  is  nae  sae  tri;;, 

Sbe  diixbts  ber  pruiizie  wi'  a  Imsbiou  ; 
Her  walie  nieves  like  midden-creels, 
Her  face  wad  fvle  tlie  Lo^au- Water; 
Sic  a  wife  as  Willie  bud, 
I  wad  na  gle  a  button  for  her. 


WILT  THOU  BE  MY  DEARIE? 

Wilt  fbou  be  my  dearie  ? 

Wben  sorrows  wrings  tliy  gentle  heart, 
O  wilt  thou  let  me  elieer  thee? 

By  the  treasure  of  my  soul, 
And  that's  the  love  I  bear  thee  ! 

I  swear  and  vow,  that  only  thou 
Shall    ever  be  my  dearie, 

Only  thou,  I  swear  and  vow, 

Shall  ever  be  my  dearie. 

Lassie,  say  thou  lo'es  me  ; 

Or  if  thou  wilt  na  be  my  ain, 
Say  na  thou'lt  refuse  me  ; 

if  it  winna,  canna  be. 
Thou  for  thine  may  choose  mc  ; 

Let  me  lassie,  quickly  die. 
Trusting  that  thou  lo'es  me. 

Lassie,  let  me  quickly  die, 

Trusting  that  thou  lo'es  rae. 


SHE'S  FAIR  AND  PAUSE. 

She's  fair  and  fause  that  causes  my  smart, 

I  lo'ed  her  nieikle  and  larig  ; 
She's  broken  her  vow,  she's  broken  my  heart, 

Aud  I  may  e'en  gae  hang. 


310  burns'  pgkms. 

A  ooof  cam  in  wi'  rowth  o'  pear, 

And  I  hae  tint  my  dearest  dear, 

But  woman  is  but  warld's  gear, 

Sae  let  the  bonnie  lass  gan^. 

Wliae'or  ye  be  that  woman  love, 

To  this  be  never  blind, 
Nae  ferlie  'tis  tlio'  fickle  she  prove, 

A  woman  has't  by  kind  : 
O  woman  lovely,  woman  fair  ! 
An  aniiel  form's  faun  to  thy  share, 
"Twad  been  o'er  meikle  to  gien  thee  raair, 

I  mean  an  angel  mind. 


O,  WAT  YE  WHA'S  IN  YON  TOWN? 

O,  WAT  ye  wlia's  in  yon  town, 

Ye  see  the  e'euin'  sun  upon  ? 
The  fairf'st  dame's  in  yon  town. 

That  e'enin*  sun  is  shining  on. 

Now  haply  down  yon  gay  green  shaw  : 
She  wanders  by  Von  spreading  tree, 

How  blest  ye  flowers  that  round  her  blaw 
Ye  catch  the  glances  o'  her  ee. 

How  blest  ye  birds  that  round  her  sing, 
And  welcome  in  the  blooming  year, 

And  doul)ly  welcome  be  the  spring, 
The  season  to  ray  Lucy  dear. 

The  sun  blinks  blithe  on  yon  town. 
And  on  yon  bonnie  braes  of  vVyre  ; 

But  my  delight  in  yon  town, 
And  dearest  bliss,  is  Lucy  fair. 


.'ill 


Without  my  love,  not  a'  the  clmrms 
O'  Paradise  could  yield  me  joy  ; 

Hut  pie  me  Lucy  in  my  arms, 
And  welcome  Lapland's  dreary  skv. 

My  cave  wad  be  a  lover's  bower  ; 

Tho'  raging  winter  rent  the  air 
And  she  a  lovely  little  flower. 

That  I  wad  tent  and  shelter  there. 

0  sweet  is  she  in  yon  town. 

Yon  sinking  sun's  gane  down  upon  ; 
A  fairer  than's  in  yon  town 
His  setting  beam  ne'er  shone  upon. 

If  angry  fate  is  sworn  ray  foe, 

And  suffering  I  am  doom'd  to  bear  , 

1  careless  quit  all  else  below, 

But  spare  me,  spare  me  Lucy  dear. 

For  while  life's  dearest  blood  is  warm, 
Ae  thought  frae  her  shall  ue'er  depart, 

And  she— as  fairest  is  her  form  ! 
She  has  the  truest,  kindest  heart. 


THE  RED,  RED  ROSE. 

O,  MY  luve's  like  a  red,  red  rose, 
That'**  newly  sprung  in  June  : 

O,  my  luve's  like  the  melodie 
That's  sweetly  play'd  in  tune. 

As  fair  art  thou,  my  bonnie  lass. 

So  cieep  in  luve  am  I  : 
And  I  will  luve  thee  still,  my  dear. 

Till  a'  the  seas  gang  dry.  * 


312  burns'  pokms. 

Till  a'  the  seas  f^anjr  dry,  my  dear, 
And  the  rocks  melt  \vi'  the  sun  : 

I  will  luve  thee  still,  my  dear, 
While  the  sands  o'  life  shall  run. 

And  fare  thee  weel,  my  only  luve! 

And  fare  thee  weel,  a  while ! 
And  I  will  come  again,  my  luve, 

Tho'  it  were  ten  thousand  mile. 


SONG  OF  DEATH. 

Scene— afield  of  battle ;  time  of  the  day— evening ; 
the  wounded  and  dying  of  the  victorious  army 
are  supjjosed  to  join  in  the  foUoicing  Song. 

Farewell,  thou  fair  day,  thou  green  earth,  and  ye 
skies, 

Now  gay  with  the  bright  setting  sun ; 
Farewell,  loves  and  frieirdships,  ye  dear,  tender  ties, 

Our  race  of  existence  is  run  ! 

TIiou  grim  king  of  terrors,  thou  life's  gloomy  foe. 

Go,  ifrighten  the  coward  and  slave  : 
Go,  teach  them  to  tremble,  fell  tyrant !  but  know, 

No  terrors  hast  thou  to  the  brave ! 

Tiiou  strikes  the  dull  peasant— he  sinks  in  the  dark, 

Nor  saves  e'en  the  wreck  of  a  name  : 
Tliou  strik'st  the  young  hero— a  glorious  mark  ! 

He  falls  in  the  blaze  of  his  fame  ! 

[n   the  field  of  proud  honour — our   swords  in   our 
hands, 

Our  king  and  our  country  to  save— 
Wliile  victory  shines  on  life's  last  ebbing  sands, 

O  !  who  would  not  rest  with  the  brave ! 


burns'  pokms.        .'Jia 


IMITATION  OF  AN  OLD  JACORITK  S0\(;. 

By  yon  castle  wa'  at  the  close  o'  the  day, 
I  heard  a  man  sing:,  Iho'  his  head  it  was  prey  ; 
And  as  he  was  singinf;^,  the  tears  fast  down  came— 
There'll  never  be  peace  till  Jamie  comes  hame. 

The  church  is  in  ruins,  the  state  is  in  jars, 
Delusions,  oppressions,  and  murderous  wars  : 
We  dare  na  weel  say't,  but  we  ken  wha's  to  blame — 
There'll  never  be  peace  till  Jamie  coraes  hame. 

My  seven  braw  sons  for  Jamie  drew  sword. 
And  now  I  greet  round  their  green  bods  in  the  yord 
It  brak  the  sweet  heart  o'  my  faithfu'  auld  dauie- 
There'll  never  be  peace  till  Jamie  comes  hame. 

Now  life  is  a  burden  that  bows  me  down, 
Sin'  I  tint  my  bairns  and  he  tint  his  crown  ; 
But  till  my  last  moments  my  words  are  the  same — 
There'll  never  he  peace  till  Jamie  comes  hame. 


TO  MARY  IN  HEAVEN. 

Thou  linirpring  star,  with  less'ning  ray, 
Thou  lov'st  to  greet  the  early  morn, 

Again  thou  usher'st  in  the  day 
My  Mary  from  my  soul  was  torn. 

O  Mary  !  dear  departed  shade  ! 

Where  is  thy  place  of  blissful  rest? 
See'st  thou  tliy  lover  lowly  laid  ? 

Hear'st  thou  the  groans  tiiat  n  lul  Ids  breast? 

Tliat  sacred  liour  can  I  forcret, 
Can  I  forget  the  hallow'd  -^'rove, 


314  r.rnNS    vokms. 

\VI  ere  by  the  winding  Avr  we  met, 
To  live  one  day  of  parting  love  ! 

E'crnity  will  not  cfFaco, 

Those  records  dear  of  transports  past: 
Tliv  iniatre  at  our  last  embrace; 

Ah  !  little  thought  we  'twas  our  last ! 

Ayr,  gurgling  kiss'd  liis  pebbled  shore, 

O'erliung  with  wild  woods,  thick'ning,  green, 

The  fragrant  birch,  and  hawthorn  hoar, 
Twin'd  am'rous  round  the  raptur'd  scene. 

Tlie  flowers  spranx  wanton  to  be  prest 
Tlip  birds  sung  love  on  every  spray, 

Till  too,  too  soon,  the  glowing  west, 
Proclaira'd  the  speed  of  winged  day. 

Still  o'er  tlipse  scenes  ray  mem'ry  wakes, 
And  fondlv  broods  with  mi-.r  care  ! 

Time  but  th'  imprecision  deeper  makes. 
As  streams  tlieir  channels  deeper  wear. 

My  Mfirv,  dpar  departed  shade  ! 

Where  is  thy  blissful  place  of  rest  ? 
See'st  thou  thy  lover  lowly  laid  ? 

Hear'st  thou  the  groans  that  rend  his  breast? 


N  A  E  B  O  D  Y. 

I  II AE  a  wife  o'  ray  ain, 
I'll  partake  wi'  naebody  : 

I'll  tak  cuckold  frae  nane, 
I'll  gie  cuckold  to  naebody. 

r  hae  a  penny  to  spend. 
There— thanks  to  naebody  ; 


I  liae  nothing  to  lend, 
I'll  borrow  frae  nael)0(ly. 

I  am  naebody's  lord, 
I'll  be  slave  to  naebody  ; 

I  hae  a  p^uid  braid  sword, 
I'll  tak  dunts  frae  naebody  j 

I'll  be  merry  and  free, 
I'll  be  sad  for  naebody  ; 

If  naebody  care  for  me, 
I'll  care  for  naebodv. 


TO  MARY. 

Will  ye  go  to  the  Indies,  my  Mary, 
And  leave  old  Scotia's  shore? 

Will  ye  go  to  tiie  Indies,  my  Mary, 
Across  th' Atlantic's  roar? 

0  sweet  grows  the  lime  ard  the  orange, 
And  the  a])ple  on  tlie  pine  ; 

But  a'  the  cliarms  o'  the  Indies 
Can  never  equal  thine. 

1  hae  sworn  by  the  heavens  to  my  M.'iry, 
I  hae  sworn  by  the  heavi-ns  to  be  tnu- ; 

And  sae  may  the  heavens  forget  me. 
When  I  forget  my  vow  ! 

O  jdiglit  me  your  faith,  my  JIary, 
Antl  plight  me  your  lily-wiiite  hand  ; 

O  'plight  me  your  faith,  my  3Iary, 
Before  I  leave  Scotia's  strand.' 


316  KUHNS'    rOKMS. 

We  hae  plighted  our  troth,  my  Mary 

In  niulual  affection  to  join, 
And  curst  be  the  onuse  tliat  shall  part  us ! 

The  hour,  and  the  moment  o'  time. 


BONxNIE  LESLEY. 

O  SAW  ye  bonnie  Lesley, 
As  she  gaed  o'er  the  border? 

She's  gane,  like  Alexander, 
To  spread  her  conquests  farther. 

To  see  her  is  to  love  her, 
And  love  but  her  for  ever  : 

For  nature  made  iier  what  she  is, 
And  ne'er  made  sic  anither  ; 

Thou  art  a  queen,  fair  Lesley, 
Thy  subjects  we,  before  thee  : 

Thou  art  divine,  fair  Lesley, 
The  hearts  o'  men  adore  thee. 

The  deil  he  could  na  scalth  thee, 
Or  ausht  that  wad  belang  thee  ; . 

He'd  look  into  thy  bonnie  face. 
And  say,  "  I  canna  wrang  thee." 

The  powers  aboon  will  tent  thee, 
Misfortune  sha'na  steer  thee  ; 

Thou'rt  like  themselves  sae  lovely, 
That  ill  they'll  ne'er  let  near  thee. 

Return  again,  fiiir  Lesley, 

Return  to  Caledonie  ! 
Taat  we  may  l)rag,  we  hae  a  lass 

Tiiere's  naue  again  sae  bonnie. 


burns'  poems  1)17 

MARY  MORISOX. 
Tune—"  Bide  ye  yet." 

0  Maky,  at  tliy  window  be, 

It  is  the  wisli'd,  the  trysted  hour, 
Those  smiles  and  prlances  let  me  see, 

That  make  tiie  miser's  treasure  poor  ; 
How  blithely  wad  I  hide  the  stoure, 

A  weery  slave  frae  sun  to  sun  : 
Could  I  tlie  rich  reward  secure, 

The  lovely  Mary  Morison. 

Yestreen  when  to  the  trembling  striiifj. 
The  dance  ^aed  thro'  the  lit^hted  ha', 

To  thee  my  fancy  took  its  wing, 
I  sat,  but  neither  heard  nor  saw  : 

Tho'  this  was  fair,  and  that  was  braw, 
And  yon  the  toast  of  a'  the  town, 

1  sitrh'd,  and  said  amangr  them  a', 
"  Ye  are  na  Mary  Morison." 

O  Mary,  canst  thou  wreck  his  peacp, 

Wha  for  thy  sake  wad  gladly  die  ? 
Or  canst  thou  l)rtak  that  heart  of  his, 

Whase  only  faut  is  loving  thee? 
If  love  for  love  thou  wilt  na  gie. 

At  least  be  pity  to  me  shown  : 
A  thought  ungentle  canna  be 

The  thought  o'  Mary  Morison. 


SONG. 

TvsE—"  Liggeiam  Cosh." 

Blithe  liae  I  been  on  yon  hill, 
As  the  lambs  before  me  ; 


318  15UKNS"   roi:?.:.s. 

Careless  ilka  though f  and  free, 
As  the  breeze  flew  o'er  me  : 

Now  iiae  longer  sport  and  play, 
Mirth  or  sang  can  please  me  ; 

Lesley  is  sae  fair  and  coy, 
Care  and  anguish  seize  me. 

Heavy,  heavy,  is  the  task, 

Hopeless  love  declaring : 
Trembling,  I  dow  rioclit  but  glow'r, 

Sighincr,  dumb,  despairing  .' 
If  she  winna  ease  the  tliraws, 

In  my  bosom  swelling. 
Underneath  the  grass- green  sod, 

Soon  maun  be  my  dwelling. 


BONXIE  JEAN. 

TfiEUE  was  a  lass,  and  she  was  fair, 
At  kirk  and  market  to  be  seen, 

When  a'  the  fairest  maids  were  met, 
The  fairest  maid  was  bonnie  Jean. 

And  aye  she  wrought  her  mammie's  wark, 
And  aye  she  sang  sae  merrilie ; 

Tlie  biitliest  bird  upon  the  bush 
Had  ne'er  a  lighter  heart  tlian  she. 

But  hawks  will  rob  the  tender  joys 
That  bless  the  little  lintwliite's  nest ; 

And  frost  will  blight  the  fairest  flowers, 
And  love  will  break  the  soundest  rest. 

Young  Robie  was  the  brawest  lad, 
The  flower  and  pride  of  a'  the  glen  ; 

And  he  had  owsen,  sheep,  and  kye, 
And  wanton  naigie.s  nine  or  ten. 


nuuNS    I'uKMs.  3)9 

He  jraed  wi'  Jeaiiie  to  tlie  trystc, 
He  danced  wi'  Jeanie  on  tlie  down  ; 

And  lang  ere  witless  Jeanie  wist, 

Her  heart  was  tint,  her  peace  was stoun. 

As  in  the  bosom  o'  the  stream, 
The  moonbeam  dwells  at  dewy  e'en  ; 

So  trembling,  pure,  was  tender  "love, 
Within  the  breast  o'  honnie  Jean. 

And  now  she  works  her  mammie's  wark. 
And  aye  she  sighs  w  i'  care  and  pain  ; 

Yet  wist  na  what  her  ail  might  be, 
Or  what  wad  make  her  weel  again. 

But  did  na  Jeanie's  heart  lonp  light. 

And  did  na  joy  blink  in  her  ee, 
As  Robie  tauld  a  tale  o'  love, 

As  e'eing  on  the  lily  lea  ? 

The  sun  was  sinking  in  tlie  west, 
The  bird  sang  sweet  in  ilka  grove  ; 

His  cheek  to  her's  he  fondly  prest, 
And  whisper'd  thus  Ids  tale  o'  love  : 

"  O  Jeanie  fair,  I  lo'e  thee  dear; 

O  canst  thou  think  to  fancy  me  ? 
Or  wilt  thou  leave  thy  mamniie's  cot, 

And  learn  to  tent  the  farms  wi'  me  .' 

"  At  barn  or  byre  thou  shalt  na  drudge. 

Or  naethius:  else  to  trouble  tliee  ; 
But  stray  amang  the  heather  bells. 

And  tent  the  waving  corn  wi'  me." 

Now  what  could  artless  Jeanie  do? 

She  had  nae  will  to  say  him  na  ; 
At  length  she  blush'd  a  sweet  consent. 

And  love  was  aye  between  them  tsva. 


n20  burns'  poems. 

TIBBIE,  I  HAE  SEEN  THE  DAY. 
Tune—"  InvercauhVs  Reel" 

CHORUS. 

O  Tibbie,  I  hae  seen  the  day, 
Ye  would  na  been  sae  shy  ; 

For  lack  o'  gear  ye  lightly  me, 
But,  trowth,  I  care  na  by. 

Yestreen  I  met  you  on  the  moor, 
Ye  spak  na,  but  gaed  by  like  stoure  ; 
Ye  geek  at  me  because  I'm  poor. 
But  fient  a  hair  care  I, 
O  Tibbie,  I  hae,  &c. 

I  doubt  na,  lass,  but  ye  may  think, 
Because  ye  nae  the  name  o'  clink, 
That  ye  can  please  me  at  a  wink, 
Whene'er  ye  like  to  try. 
O  Tibbie,  I  hae,  &c. 

But  sorrow  tak  him  that's  sae  mean, 
Altlio'  his  pouch  o'  coin  were  clean, 
Wha  follows  ony  saucy  queen, 
Tliat  looks  sae  proud  and  high. 
O  Tibbie,  I  hae,  &c. 

Altho'  a  lad  were  e'er  sae  smart. 
If  that  he  want  the  yellow  dirt, 
Ye'll  cast  your  head  anither  airt. 
And  answer  him  fu'  dry. 
O  Tibbie,  I  hae,  &c. 

But  if  he  hae  the  name  o'  gear, 
Y'e'U  fasten  to  him  like  a  brier, 


BURNS'    POEMS. 

Tlio'  liardly  he  for  sense  or  lear 
Be  better  than  the  kve. 
O  Tibbie,  I  hae,  &c. 

But,  Tibbie,  lass,  tak  my  advice, 
Your  daddie's  gear  maks  you  sae  nice  ! 
The  dell  a  ane  wad  spier  your  price, 
Were  ve  as  poor  as  I. 
O  Tibbie,  I  hae,  Sec. 

Tlicre  lives  a  lass  in  yonder  park, 
I  wad  na  gie  her  in  her  sark, 
For  thee  wi'  a'  thy  thousand  mark  ; 
Ye  need  na  look  sae  high. 
O  Tibbie,  I  hae,  &c. 


SONG. 
Tune—"  Fee  him,  Father." 

Thou  hast  left  me  ever,  Jamie, 

Thou  hast  left  me  ;ver. 
Tiiou  liast  left  me  ever,  Jamie, 

Tliou  hast  left  me  ever. 
Alton  Iiast  thou  vow'd  tliat  dealli 

Only  should  us  sever; 
Now  thou'st  left  tliy  lass  for  aye, 

1  maun  see  thee  never,  Jamie, 
I'll  see  thee  never. 

Tliou  hast  me  forsaken,  Jamie, 

Tiiou  hast  me  forsaken, 
Ti'ou  liast  me  forsaken,  Jamie, 

Thou  hast  me  forsaken. 
Thou  canst  love  anither  jo, 

While  my  heart  is  breaking: 
Soon  my  weary  een  I'll  close. 

Never  mair  to  waken,  Jamie, 
Ne'er  mair  to  waken. 
17  Y 


322  BUKNS'    POEMS, 

FAIR  JENNY. 
Tune—"  Smo  ye  my  Father.'^ 

WriERE  are  the  joys  I  liave  met  in  the  morningf, 
That  danc'd  to  the  lark's  early  song  ? 

Where  is  the  peace  that  awaited  my  wand'rin2f, 
At  evening  the  wild  woods  among? 

No  more  a  windin^j  the  course  of  yon  river, 
And  marking  sweet  flow'rets  so  fair  ; 

No  more  I  trace  tlie  light  footsteps  of  pleasure, 
But  sorrow  and  sad  sighing  care. 

Is  it  that  summer's  forsaken  our  valleys, 

And  grim,  surly  winter  is  near  ? 
No,  no,  the  bees  humming  round  the  gay  roses 

Proclaim  it  the  pride  of  the  year.  • 

Fain  would  I  hide  what  I  fear  to  discover, 
Yet  long,  long  too  well  have  I  known  ; 

All  that  has  caused  this  wreck  in  my  bosom 
Is  Jenny,  fair  Jenny,  alone. 

Time  cannot  aid  me,  my  griefs  are  immortal. 
Nor  hope  dare  a  comfort  bestow  ; 

Come  then,  enamour'd  and  fond  of  my  anguish 
Enjoyment  I'll  seek  in  my  wo. 


SONG. 
Tune—"  To  Janet." 

Husband,  husband,  cease  your  strife, 

Nor  longer  idly  rave,  sir  ;' 
Though  I  am  your  wedded  wife, 

Yet  I  am  not  your  slave,  sir  ! 


burns'  poems.  023 

"  One  of  two  must  still  obey, 

Nancy,  Nancy ; 
Is  it  man  or  woman,  say. 

My  spouse,  Nancy  V' 

If  'tis  still  the  lordly  word, 

Service  and  obedience  ; 
I'll  desert  my  sov'reipfn  lord, 

And  so,  good  bye  allegiance  ! 

''  Sad  will  I  be,  so  bereft, 

Nancy,  Nancy  ; 
Yet  I'll  try  to  make  a  shift, 

My  spouse,  Nancy." 

]\Iy  poor  heart  then  break  it  must. 

My  last  hour  I'm  near  it ; 
When  you  lay  me  in  the  dust, 

Think,  think  how  you  will  bear  it. 

"  I  will  hope  and  trust  in  Heav'n, 

Nancy,  Nancy  ; 
Strength  to  bear  it  will  be  given, 

My  spouse,  Nancy." 

Well,  sir,  from  the  silent  dead, 

Still  I'll  try  to  daunt  you  ; 
Ever  round  your  midnight  bed 

Plorrid  sprites  shall  haunt  yon. 

"  I'll  wed  another,  like  my  dear 

Nancv,  Nancv. 
Then  all  hell  will  fly  for  fear, 

My  spouse  Nancy." 


324  burns'  poems. 

SONG. 
Tune—"  Cauld  hail  in  Aberdeen.'^ 

How  lang  and  dreary  is  the  night 

When  I  am  frae  my  dearie ; 
I  restless  lie  frae  e'en  to  morn, 

Though  I  were  ne'er  sae  weary. 


For,  oh !  her  lanely  nights  are  lang, 
And,  oh  !  her  dreams  are  eerie  ; 

And,  oh!  her  widow'd  heart  is  sair. 
That's  absent  frae  her  dearie. 

When  I  think  on  the  lightsome  days 

1  spent  wi'  thee,  my  dearie, 
And  now  what  seas  between  us  roar, 

How  can  I  be  but  eerie? 
For,  oh !  &c. 

How  slowly  ye  move,  ye  heavy  hours  ! 

The  joyless  day  how  dreary  ! 
It  was  na  sae  ye  glinted  by 

When  I  was  wi'  my  dearie. 
For,  oh !  &e. 


SONG. 

ALTERED  FROM  AN  OLD  ENGLISH  ON] 

It  was  the  charming  month  of  May, 
When  all  the  flow'rs  were  fresh  and  gay, 
One  morning,  by  the  break  of  day. 
The  youthful,  charming  Chloe; 


urUiNs    roK.Ms.  ;j-2.5 


From  peaceful  slumber  she  arnst>. 
Girt  on  her  niantle  and  her  hose, 
And  o't-r  the  flow'ry  mead  she  i^ues, 
The  youthful,  charming  Chloe. 


Lovely  was  she  by  the  dawn, 

Youthful  Ciiloe,  charmiiiff  Chloe, 

Trippiny  o'er  the  pearly  lawn, 
The  youthful,  charming  Chloe. 

The  feather'd  people  you  might  see 
Perch'd  all  around  on  every  tree. 
In  notes  of  sweetest  melody 

They  hail  the  charming  Chloe. 
Till,  painting  gay  the  eastern  skies, 
The  glorious  sun  began  to  rise, 
Out-rivall'd  by  the  radiant  eyes 

Of  youthful,  charming  Chloe. 
Lovely  was  she,  &c. 


SONG. 

TusE—''  Lumps  o'  PuddiiKj." 

Contented  wi'  little,  and  cantie  wi'  mair, 
When'er  I  forgather  wi'  sorrow  and  care, 
I  gie  them  a  skelp  as  they're  creeping  alancf, 
Wi'  a  cog  o'  guid  swats,  and  an  auld  Scottish  sang. 

I  whyles  claw  the  elbow  o'  troublesome  thought; 
But  man  is  a  sodger,  and  life  is  a  fau^ht : 
My  mirth  and  good  liumour  are  coin  in  my  pouch, 
And  my  freedom's  my  laird.ship  nae  monarch  dare 
touch. 

A  towmond  o'  trouble,  should  that  be  my  fa', 
A  night  o'  guid  fellowship  sowthors  it  a' ; 


33G  H  urns'    I'OKMS, 

When  at  the  blithe  end  o'  our  journey  iit  last, 
Wha  the  deil  ever  thinks  o'  the  road  he  has  past ! 

Blind  Chance,  let  her  snapper  and  stoyte  on  her  way ; 
Be't  to  me,  be't  frae  me,  e'en  let  the  jade  gae  : 
Corae  ease,  or  come  travail,  come  pleasure  or  pain, 
My  warst  word  is — "  Welcome,  and  welcome  again  !' 


CANST  THOU  LEAVE  ME  THUS,  MY  KATY? 
Tune-"  Roys  Wife." 

CHORUS. 

Canst  thou  leave  me  thus,  my  Katy  ? 
Canst  thou  leave  me  thus,  my  Katy  ? 
Well  thou  knovv'st  my  aching  heart, 
And  canst  thou  leave  me  thus  for  pity  ? 

Is  this  thy  plighted  fond  regard, 

Thus  cruelly  to  part,  my  Katy  ? 
Is  this  thy  faithful  swain's  reward — 

An  aching,  broken  heart,  my  Katy  ? 
Canst  thou,  &c. 

Farewell !  and  ne'er  such  sorrows  tear 
That  fickle  heart  of  thine,  my  Katy  ! 

Thou  may'st  find  those  will  love  thee  dear — 
But  not  a  love  like  mine,  my  Katy. 
Canst  thou,  &c. 


MY  NANNIE'S  AWA. 

Tune—"  There'll  never  he  peace,  §-c." 

Now  in  her  green  mantle  blithe  Nature  arrays. 
And  listens  the  lambkins  that  bleat  o'er  the  braes  ; 


burns'  roKMs.  acj; 

While  birds  warble  welcome  in  ilka  jrrecn  shaw ; 
But  to  me  it's  delightless — my  Nannie's  awu. 

The  snawdrap  and  primrose  our  woodlands  adorn, 
And  violets  bathe  in  the  weet  o'  the  morn  ; 
They  pain  my  sad  bosom,  sae  sweetly  they  blaw, 
They  mind  me  o'  Nannie — and  Nannie's  awa. 

Tiiou  lav'rock  that  springs  frae  the  dews  of  the  lawn  ; 
The  shepherd  to  warn  o'  the  grey- breaking  dawn, 
And  thon,  mellow  mavis,  that  hails  the  night  la,' 
Give  over  for  pity — my  Nannie's  awa. 

Come,  Autumn,  sae  pensive,  in  yellow  and  grey, 
And  sooth  me  wi'  tidings  o'  Nature's  decay ; 
'J'iie  dark,  dreary  winter,  and  wild-driving  snaw, 
Alane  can  delight  me — now  Nannie's  awa. 


SONG. 

Tune—"  Laddie,  lie  near  inc.'' 

'TwAS  na  her  bonnie  blue  ee  was  my  ruin  ; 
Fair  tho'  she  be,  that  was  ne'er  my  undoing  : 
'Twas  the  dear  smile  when  naebody  did  mind  us, 
'Twas  the  bewitching,  sweet  stown  glance  o'  kindness. 

Sair  do  I  fear  that  to  hope  is  denied  me, 
Sair  do  I  fear  that  despair  maun  abide  me, 
Rut  tho'  fell  fortune  should  fate  us  to  sever. 
Queen  shall  she  be  in  my  bosom  for  ever. 

ISIary,  I'm  thine  wi'  a  passion  sincerest, 
And'thou  hast  plighted  me  love  o'  tlie  rlearest! 
And  thou'rt  the  angel  that  never  can  altar, 
t^ooner  the  sun  in  his  motion  would  falter. 


'^'•^^  BIIUN<5'     POKMS. 

SONG. 

Tune—"  Rothermurche.'^ 

CHOKUS. 

Fairest  maid  on  Devon  banks, 
Crystal  Devon,  winding  Devon, 

Wit  thou  lay  tliat  frown  aside, 

And  smile  as  thou  were  wont  to  do  ? 

Full  well  thou  know'st  I  love  thee,  dear, 
Couldst  thou  to  malice  lend  an  ear  ! 
O,  did  not  love  exclaim,  "  Forbear, 
"  Nor  use  a  faithful  lover  so  1" 
Fairest  maid,  &c. 

Then  come,  thou  fairest  of  the  fair, 
Those  wonted  smiles,  O,  let  me  share  ; 
And,  by  thy  beauteous  self  I  swear. 
No  love  but  thine  my  heart  shall  know. 
Fairest  maid,&c. 


THE  YOUNG  HIGHLAND  ROVER. 

Tune—"  Moray." 

Loud  blaw  the  frosty  breezes, 

The  snaws  the  mountains  cover ; 
Like  winter  on  me  seizes. 

Since  my  young  Highland  Rover 

Far  wanders  nations  over. 
Where'er  he  go,  where'er  he  stray. 

May  Heaven  be  his  warden  ; 
Return  hira  safe  to  fair  Strathspey, 

And  bonnie  Castle-Gordon ! 

The  trees  now  naked  groaning. 
Shall  soon  wi'  leaves  be  hinging. 


iJi:uNS'    I'OKMS.  ;jj9 

The  birdies  tlowie  nioaninjr, 

Sliall  a'  be  blitliely  sinniiii;, 

And  ever}'  flower  be  spriiij^iiif^, 
Sae  I'll  rejoife  the  lee-lang  day, 

When,  by  his  niightly  warden. 
My  youth's  return'd  to* fair  Strathspey, 

And  bonnie  Castle-Gordon. 


WHERE,  BRAVING  ANGRY  WINTER'S  STORMS. 
Tune— "iV.  Gow^s  Lamentation  fur  Abercaimy, 

Where,  braving  angry  winter's  storms, 

The  lofty  Ochels  rise, 
Far  in  their  shade  my  Peggy's  charms 

First  blest  my  wondering  eyes. 
As  one  who,  by  some  savage  stream 

A  lonely  gem  surveys, 
Astonish'd,  doubly  marks  its  beam. 

With  art's  most  polish'd  blaze. 

Blest  be  the  wild  sequester'd  shade, 

And  blest  the  day  and  hour, 
Where  Peggy's  cliarras  I  iirst  survey 'd, 

When  first  I  felt  tlieir  pow'r  I 
The  tyrant  Death,  with  grim  control. 

May  seize  my  fleeting  breath  : 
But  tearing  Peggy  from  my  soul 

Must  be  a  stronger  death. 


THE  BRAES  O'  BALLOCHMYLK. 

The  Catrine  woods  were  yellow  seen, 
The  flowers  decay'd  on  Catrine  lea  ; 

Nae  lav'rock  sang  on  hillock  gnuMi, 
But  nature  sicken'd  ou  the  ee. 


330  BURNS'    I'OKMS. 

Thro'  faded  groves  Maria  sang, 

Ilersel  in  beauty's  bloom  tlie  whyle, 

And  aye  the  wihi-wood  echoes  rang, 
Farevveel  the  braes  o'  Ballochmyle. 

Low  in  your  wintry  beds,  ye  flowers, 

Again  ye'll  flourish  fresh  and  fair  : 
Ye  birdies  dumb,  in  with'ring  bowers, 

A^ain  ye'll  charm  the  vocal  air  ; 
But  liere,  alas  !  for  me  nae  mair 

Shall  birdie  charm,  or  floweret  smile  ; 
Fareweel  the  bouuie  banks  of  Ayr, 

Fareweel,  fareweel !  sweet  Ballochmyle. 


FAREWELL  THOU  STREAM. 

Farewell  thou  stream  that  winding  flow; 
Around  Eliza's  dwelling ! 

0  mem'ry  !  spare  the  cruel  tiiroes 
Within  my  bosom  swelling : 

Ccmdemn'd  to  drag  a  hopeless  chain, 

And  yet  in  secret  languish, 
To  feel  a  fire  in  ev'ry  vein. 

Nor  dare  disclose  my  anguish. 

Love'8  veriest  wretch,  unseen,  unknown, 

I  fain  ray  griefs  would  cover ; 
The  bursting  sigh,  th'  unweeting  groan, 

Betray  the  hapless  lover. 

1  know  thou  doom'st  me  to  despair, 
Nor  wilt,  nor  canst  relieve  me  ; 

But  oh,  Eliza,  hear  one  prayer— 
For  pity's  sake  forgive  me ! 

The  music  of  thy  voice  I  heard. 
Nor  wist  while  it  cnslav'd  me ; 


BURNS    roKMS.  :y,]i 


I  saw  thine  eyes,  yet  nothinc:  fear'd, 
Till  fears  no  more  liad  sav'd  me  ; 

The  unwary  sailor  thus  aghast, 
The  wheeling  torrent  viewing  ; 

'Mid  circlhig  horrors  sinks  at  last 
In  overwhelminu:  ruin. 


JOHN  ANDERSON. 
Tune — "  Jolin  Aiidersoii  viy  io." 

John  Anderson  my  jo,  John, 

When  we  were  first  acquent  ; 
Your  locks  were  like  the  raven, 

Your  bonnie  brow  was  brent ; 
But  now  your  brow  is  beld,  John, 

Your  locks  are  like  the  snaw  : 
But  blessings  on  your  frosty  pow, 

John  Anderson  rny  jo. 

John  Anderson  my  jo,  John, 

We  clamb  the  hill  thegitlier  ; 
And  mony  a  canty  day,  John, 

We've  had  wi'  ane  aniilier  : 
But  we  maun  totter  down,  John, 

But  hand  in  hand  we'll  go  ; 
And  sleep  thegither  at  the  foot, 

John  Anderson  my  jo. 


A  ROSE-BUD  BY  MY  EARLY   WALK. 

Tune—"  The  Rose-bud:' 

A  ROSE-BUD  by  my  early  walk. 
Adown  a  corn-inclosed  hawk, 
Sae  gently  bent  its  tliorny  slalk. 
All  on  "a  dewy  morning. 


3;]'2  B urns'   poems. 

Ere  twice  the  shades  o'  dawn  are  fled, 
In  a'  its  crimson  ^lory  spread, 
And  drooping;  rich  tiie  dewy  head, 
It  scents  tlie  early  morning. 

Within  the  hush,  lier  covert  nest 
A  little  linnet  fondly  prest, 
The  dew  sat  chilly  on  her  breast 

Sae  early  in  the  morning. 
She  soon  sliall  see  her  tender  brood, 
Tlie  pride,  the  pleasure  o'the  wood, 
Amang  the  fresh  green  leaves  bedew'd, 

Awake  the  early  morning. 

So  thou,  dear  bird,  young  Jenny  fair  ! 
On  trembling  string  or  vocal  air, 
Shall  sweetly  pay  the  tender  care 

Tliat  tents  thy  early  morning, 
So  thou  sweet  rose-bud,  young"  and  gay 
Shall  beauteous  blaze  upon  the  day, 
And  bless  the  parent's  evening  ray 

That  watch'd  the  early  morning. 


THE    JOYFUL   W I D  O  W  E 
Tune—"  Maggy  Lauder" 

I  MARRIED  with  a  scolding  wife 

The  fourteenth  of  Novem'ber  ; 
She  made  me  weary  of  my  life. 

By  one  unruly  member. 
Long  did  I  bear  the  heavy  yoke, 

And  many  griefs  attended  ; 
But,  to  my  comfort  be  it  spoke, 

Now,  now  her  life  is  ended. 

We  liv'd  full  one-and-twenty  years 
A  man  and  wZ/e  together : 


BURNS      POF.MS.  0,'):) 

At  leng'th  from  nie  her  course  slie  stcer'i), 

And  gone  I  know  not  wliithor  : 
A\'ould  I  could  ^uess,  I  do  profess, 

I  speak,  and  do  not  flatter, 
Dfali  the  women  in  the  world, 

I  never  could  come  at  her. 

Her  bod}'  is  bestowed  well, 

A  handsome  grave  does  hide  her, 
But  sure  her  soul  is  not  in  hell, 

The  deil  would  ne'er  abide  her, 
I  rather  think  she  is  aloft. 

And  imitating^  thunder ; 
For  why, — methinks  I  hear  her  voice 

Tearing  the  clouds  asunder. 


FAIR    ELIZA. 
A  Gaelic  Air, 

Turn  again,  thou  fair  Eliza  ; 

Ae  kind  blink  before  we  part, 
Rue  on  thy  despairing:  lover! 

Canst  thou  break  his  faithfu'  heart ' 
Turn  aeain,  tiiou  fair  Eliza  ; 

If  to  love  thy  heart  denies, 
For  pity  hide  tlie  cruel  sentence 

Under  friendship's  kind  disguise  \ 

Thee,  dear  maid,  hae  I  offended  ? 

The  offence  is  loving  thee  : 
Canst  thou  wreck  his  peace  for  ever, 

Wha  for  tliine  would  gladly  die  ? 
While  the  life  beats  in  my  bosom, 

Thou  shalt  mix  in  ilka  throe  ; 
Turn  again,  thou  lovely  maiden, 

Ae  swetft  smile  on  me  bcotuw. 


334  burns'  porcMs. 

Not  the  bee  upon  the  blossom, 

In  the  pride  o'  sunny  noon  ; 
Not  the  little  sporting  fairy, 

All  beneath  the  simmer  moon  ; 
Not  the  poet  in  tlie  moment 

Fancy  li'^htens  on  his  e'e, 
Kens  the  pleasure,  feels  the  rapture, 

That  thy  presence  gies  to  me. 


THE  PARTING  KISS. 

Jockey's  ta'en  the  parthig  kiss, 
O'er  the  mountains  he  is  gane  ; 

And  with  him  is  a'  my  bliss, 

Naught  but  griefs  with  me  remain. 

Spare  my  luve,  ye  winds  that  blaw, 
Plashy  sleets  and  beating  rain  ! 

Spare  my  luve,  thou  feathery  snaw, 
Drifting  o'er  the  frozen  plain  ! 

When  the  shades  of  evening  creep 
O'er  the  day's  fair,  gladsome  e'e, 

Sound  and  safely  may  he  sleep. 
Sweetly  blithe  his  waukening  be! 

He  will  think  on  her  he  loves. 
Fondly  he'll  repeat  her  name  ; 

For  where'er  he  distant  roves, 
Jockey's  heart  is  still  at  hame. 


MUSING  ON  THE  ROARING  OCEAN. 

Tune — "  Drubnion  duhh." 

Musing  on  the  roaring  ocean, 
Which  divides  my  love  and  me; 


burns'  poems.  n3.j 

WVarying  Heaven  in  warm  devotion, 
For  liis  weal  where'er  he  be. 

Hope  and  fears  alternate  billow 

Yielding  late  to  Nature's  law  ; 
Wliisp'ring  spirits  round  my  pillow 

Talk  of  him  that's  far  awa. 

Ye  whom  sorrow  never  wounded, 

Ye  who  never  shed  a  tear, 
Care-untroubled,  joy-surrotinded, 

Gaudy  day  to  you  is  dear. 

Gentle  night,  do  thou  befriend  me, 

Downy  sleep,  the  curtain  draw  ; 
Spirits  kind,  again  attend  me. 

Talk  of  him  that's  far  awa  ! 


LORD  GREGORY. 

O  MIRK,  mirk  is  this  midnight  hour, 

And  loud  the  tempest's  roar  ; 
A  waefu'  wanderer  seeks  thy  tow'r, 

Lord  Gregory  ope  thy  door. 

An  exile  frae  her  father's  ha', 

And  a'  for  loving  thee  ; 
At  least  some  pity  on  me  shaw, 

If  love  it  may  na  be. 

Lord  Gregory,  mind'st  thou  not  flie  grove, 

By  bonnie  Irwine  side, 
Where  first  I  own'd  that  virgin  l()\e 

I  lang,  lang  had  denied  ? 

IIow  aften  didst  thou  pledtre  and  vow, 
Thou  wad  for  ave  be  mine  ! 


330  DL'RNS'    POEMS. 

And  my  fond  heart,  itsel  sae  true, 
It  ne'er  mistrusted  thine. 

Hard  is  thy  heart,  Lord  Gregory, 
And  flinty  is  thy  breast : 

Thou  dart  of  heaven  that  flashest  by, 
O  wilt  thou  give  me  rest. 

Ye  mustering  tliunders  from  above, 

Your  willing  victim  see  ! 
But  spare,  and  pardon  my  fause  love, 

His  wrangs  to  heaven  and  me  ! 


OPEN  THE  DOOR  TO  ME,  OH  ' 

WITH    ALTERATIONS. 

Oh,  open  the  door,  some  pity  to  show. 

Oh,  open  the  door  to  rae.  Oh  ! 
Tiin'  thou  liast  been  false,  I'll  ever  prove  true, 

Oh,  open  the  door  to  me,  Oli ! 

Cauld  is  the  blast  upon  my  pale  cheek, 

But  caulder  thy  love  for  me,  Oh  ! 
The  frost  tliat  freezes  the  life  at  my  heart, 

Is  nought  to  my  pains  frae  thee,  Oh  I 

The  wan  moon  is  setting  behind  the  white  wave. 

And  time  is  setting  with  me,  Oh  ! 
False  friends,  false  love,  farewell !  for  mair 

I'll  ne'er  trouble  them,  nor  thee,  Oh  ! 

She  has  open'd  the  door,  she  has  open'd  it  wide ; 

She  sees  his  pale  corse  on  the  plain,  Oh  I 
My  true  love  !  she  cried,  and  sank  down  by  his  side, 

Never  to  rise  again,  Oh  ! 


JITRNS      rOF.MS,  3;]' 


CLARINDA. 


Clauinda,  mistress  of  my  soul, 
Tiie  measnr'd  time  is  run  ! 

The  wretcli  beneath  the  dreary  pole. 
So  marks  his  latest  sun. 


rht 


To  what  dark  cave  of  frozen  ni; 

Sliall  poor  Sylvander  hie  ; 
Depriv'd  of  the(\  his  life  and  li^ht, 

Th€  sun  of  all  his  joy. 

We  part— but  by  these  precious  drops, 

That  fill  thy  lovely  eyes  ! 
No  other  light  shall  guide  my  st«'ps, 

Till  thy  bright  beams  arise. 

She,  the  fair  sun  of  all  her  sex. 
Has  blest  my  glorious  day  : 

And  shall  a  <!limmeriiig  planet  fix 
My  worship  to  its  ray  ? 


CRAIGIE-BURX. 
Tu N li— "  Crnif/ic-huni-wo<i(l.' 

Sweet  fa's  the  eve  on  Craigie-bmn, 
And  blithe  awakes  the  morrow  ; 

But  a'  the  pride  o'  spring's  return 
Can  yield  me  nocht  but  sorrow. 

I  see  the  flowers  and  spreading  trt't-<, 

I  hear  the  wild  birds  singing  ; 
But  what  a  weary  wight  can  please, 
And  care  his  bosom  wringing? 
17  z 


BURNS'    POEMS. 

Fain,  fain  would  I  my  griefs  impart, 

Yet  dare  na  for  your  anger; 
But  secret  love  will  break  ray  heart, 

If  I  conceal  it  langer. 

If  thou  refuse  to  pity  me, 

If  thou  shalt  love  anither, 
When  yon  green  leaves  fade  frae  the  tiee, 

Around  my  grave  they'll  wither. 


ISABELLA. 

Tune—"  McGregor  of  Ruara's  Lament" 

Raying  winds  around  her  blowing, 
Yellow  leaves  the  woodlands  strowing, 
By  a  river  hoarsely  roaring, 
Isabella  stray 'd  deploring— 
"  Farewell,  hours  that  late  did  measure 
Sunshine  days  of  joy  and  pleasure  ; 
Hail  thou  gloomy  night  of  sorrow, 
Cheerless  night  that  knows  no  morrow. 

"  O'er  the  past  too  fondly  wandering, 
On  the  hopeless  future  pondering ; 
Chilly  grief  my  life-blood  freezes. 
Fell  despair  my  fancy  seizes. 
Life,  thou  soul  of  every  blessing, 
Load  to  misery  most  distressing. 
O  how  gladly  I'd  resign  thee, 
And  to  dark  oblivion  join  thee !" 


BURNS    roKMs.  339 


Til  K    \y  III  STLK. 

A    BALLAD, 

As  the  authentic  prose  history  of  the  Wliistle  is  curious,  I 
shall  here  give  it.— In  the  train  of  Anne  of  Denmark,  when 
she  caine  to  Scotland  with  our  James  the  Sixth,  there  came 
over  also  a  Danish  Gentleman  of  gigantic  stature,  and  Kreat 
prowess,  and  a  matchless  champion  of  Bacchus.  He  liad  a 
little  ebony  Whistle,  which,  at  the  commencement  of  tho 
orgies,  he  laid  on  the  table,  and  whoever  was  last  able  to 
blow  it,  every  body  else  btinpr  disabled  by  the  potency  of  the 
bottle,  was  to  carry  off  the  Whistle  as  a  trophy  of  victory. 
The  Dane  produced  credentials  of  liis  victories,  without  a 
single  defeat,  at  the  courts  of  Copeniiasen,  Stockholm,  Mos- 
cow, Warsaw,  and  several  of  the  petty  courts  in  Germany; 
and  challenged  the  Scots  Bacchanalians  to  the  alternative  of 
trying  his  prowess  or  else  of  acknowledging  their  inferiority. 

After  many  overthrows  on  the  part  of  the  Scots,  the  Dane 
was  encountered  by  Sir  Robert  Lawrie,  of  Maxwelton,  an- 
cestorof  the  present  baronet  of  that  name;  who,  after  three 
days  and  three  nights'  hard  contest,  left  the  Scandinavian 
under  the  table, 

And  blew  on  the  Whistle  his  requiem  shrill. 

Sir  Walter,  son  to  Sir  Robert  before-mentioned,  afterwards 
lost  the  Whistle  to  Walter  Riddel,  of  Glenriddel,  who  had 
married  a  sister  of  Sir  Walter's.— On  Friday,  tlie  lOlh  of 
October,  1790,  at  Friars-Carse,  the  Whistle  was  once  more 
contended  for,  as  related  in  the  ballad,  by  the  present  Sir 
Robert  Lawrie,  of  Maxwelton  ;  Robert  Riddel,  Esq.  of  Glen- 
riddel, lineal  descendant  and  representative  of  Walter  Riddel, 
who  won  the  Whistle,  and  in  whose  family  it  liad  continued; 
and  Alexander  Ferguson,  Esq.  of  Craigdurrock,  likewise 
descended  of  the  grtat  Sir  Robert;  which  last  gentleinuii 
carried  otf  the  hard-won  honours  of  the  field. 

I  SING  of  a  Whistle,  a  Whistle  of  wortli, 

I  sinec  of  a  Wliistle,  the  pride  of  the  North, 

Was  brought  to  the  court  of  our  good  Scottish  King 

And  long 'with  this  Whistle  all  Scotland  shall  ring. 


340  burns'  poems. 

Old  Loda*  still  rueing  the  arm  of  Fincfal, 

The  fjod  of  the  bottle  sends  down  from  his  hall- 

"  This  VViiistle's  your  challenge  to  Scotland  p:et  o'er^ 

And  drink  them  to  hell,  Sir  !  or  ne'er  see  me  more  !*' 

Old  poets  have  sung:,  and  old  chronicles  tell, 
What  champions  ventur'd,  wliat  champions  fell ; 
The  son  of  great  Loda  was  conqueror  still, 
And  blew  on  the  Whistle  his  requiem  shrill. 

TUl  Robert,  the  lord  of  the  Cairn  and  the  Scaur, 
Unmatch'd  at  the  bottle,  unconquer'd  in  war, 
He  drank  his  poor  godship  as  deep  as  the  sea, 
No  tide  of  the  Baltic  e'er  drunker  than  he. 

Thus  Kobert,  victorious,  the  trophy  has  gain'd  ; 
Which  now  in  his  house  has  for  ages  remain'd  ; 
Till  three  noble  chieftains,  and  all  of  his  blood, 
The  jovial  contest  again  have  renew'd. 

Three  joyous  good  fellows,  with  hearts  clear  of  flaw  ; 
Craigdarroch,  so  famous  for  wit,  worth,  and  law  ; 
And  trusty  Glenriddel,  so  skili'd  in  old  coins ; 
And  gallant  Sir  Robert,  deep-read  in  old  wines. 

Craigdarroch  began,  with  a  tongue  smooth  as  oil, 
Desiring  Glenriddel  to  yield  up  the  spoil; 
Or  else  he  would  muster  the  heads  of  the  clan, 
And  once  more,  in  claret,  try  which  was  the  man. 

"■  By  the  gods  of  the  ancients  !"  Glenriddel  replies, 
'"  Before  I  surrender  so  glorious  a  prize, 


*  See  Os3ian"s  Cario-fhura. 


UUKNS     I'OKMS.  ;j4| 

I'll  conjure  the  frhost  of  the  areat  Rorie  Morr," 
And  bumper  his  honi  witli  iiim  twenty  times  o'er." 

Sir  Robert,  a  soldier,  no  speech  would  pretond 
But  he  ne'er  turn'd  his  bsick  on  his  foe— or  his  frimd, 
S.iiil.  "Toss  down  the  Wiiistle,  the  prize  of  the  fiehlj 
And  knee-deep  in  claret,  he'd  die  or  lie'd  yield." 

To  the  board  of  Glenriddel  onr  lieroes  repair, 

So  noted  for  drowning'  of  sorrow  and  care  ; 

But  for  wine  and  for  welcome  not  more  known  to 

fame, 
Than  the  sense,  wit,  and  taste,  of  a  sweet,  lovely 

dame. 

A  Bard  was  selected  to  witness  the  fray 
And  tell  future  acres  the  feats  of  tiio  day  ; 
A  Bard  who  detested  all  sadness  and  spleen, 
And  wish'd  that  Parnassus  a  vineyard  had  been. 

The  dinner  beintr  over,  the  claret  they  ply. 
And  every  new  cork  is  a  new  sprino-  of  joy  ; 
In  the  bands  of  old  friendship  and  kindred  so  set, 
And  the  bands  grew  the  tighter  the  more  they  were 
wet. 

jray  pleasure  ran  riot  as  bumpers  ran  o'er  : 
Bright  Phoebus  ne'er  witiies^'d  so  joyous  a  core, 
\nd  vow'd  that  to  leave  them  lie  was  quite  forlorn, 
Pill  Cynthia  hinted  he'd  see  them  next  morn. 

six  bottles  a-piece  had  well  wore  out  the  ni;;ht, 
kVhen  jrallant  Sir  Robert,  to  finish  the  fight, 
Purn'd  o'er  in  one  bunifier  a  bottle  o\'  red, 
\.nd.  swore  'twas  the  wav  that  their  ancestors  did. 


•  Sep  Johnson's  Tour  to  tlic  Hcbridvi. 


34'3  burns'  poems 

Then  worthy  Glenriddel,  so  cautious  and  saofe, 
No  longer  the  warfare  unirodly  would  wage  ! 
A  high-ruling  Elder  to  wallow  in  wine  ! 
He  left  the  foul  business  to  folks  less  divine. 

The  gallant  Sir  Robert  fought  liard  to  the  end ; 
But  who  can  with  fate  and  quart-bumpers  contend  ? 
Tho'  fate  said— a  hero  should  perish  in  lis:ht; 
So  up  rose  bright  Phoebus,  and  down  fell' the  knight. 

Next  up  rose  our  Bard,  like  a  prophet  in  drink  : — 
"  Craigdarioch  thoul't  soar  when  creation  shall  sink  j  : 
But  if  thou  would  flourish  immortal  in  rhyme, 
Come— one  bottle  more — and  have  at  the  sublime  ! 

"  Thy  line  that  have  struggled  for  freedom  with  Bruce, 

Shall  heroes  and  patriots  ever  produce  : 

So  thine  be  the  laurel,  and  mine  be  the  bay  ; 

The  field  thou  hast  won,  by  yon  bright  god  of  day  !" 


GLOSSARY 


The  ch  awAgh  have  always  the  guttural  sound.  The  sound 
of  the  English  diphthons:  oo  is  commonly  spelt  ou.  The 
French  u,  a  sound  which  often  occurs  in  the  Scottish 
language,  is  marked  oo,  or  tti.  Thea  in  genuine  Scottish 
words,  except  when  formins  a  diphthong,  or  followed  by 
an  e  mute  after  a  single  consonant,  sounds  generally  like 
the  broad  English  a  in  ivall.  The  Scottish  diphlhonj;  ut\ 
always,  and  co,  very  bften,  sound  like  the  French  e  mns- 
ouline.  The  Scottish  diphthong  ey  sounds  like  the 
Latin  ei. 


A',  all. 

Aback,  away,  aloof, 

Abeij^h,  at  a  sliy  distance. 

A  boon,  above,  iip. 

-A  bread,  abroad,  in  sight. 

Abreed,  in  breadth. 

Ae,  one. 

AfF,  off;  aff  loof,  unpre- 
meditated. 

Afore,  before. 

Aft,  oft. 

Afteu,  often. 

Agley,  off  the  right  line, 
wrong. 

Ablins,  perhaps. 

Ain,  own. 

Air,  early,  soon  ;  the  oak. 

Airl-penny,  earnest-mo- 
ney. 

Airn,  iron. 

Airt,  quarter  of  the  hea- 
vens ;  to  direct. 


Aith,  an  oath. 

Aits,  oats. 

Aiver,  an  old  horse, 

Aizle,  a  hot  cinder. 

Alake,  alas ! 

.■\lane,  alone. 

Akwart,  awkward. 

Amaist,  almost. 

An',  and,  if. 

Ance,  once. 

Ane,  one,  an. 

Anent,  over  against 

Anitlier,  another. 

Ase,  ashes, 

Asteer,  abroad,  stirring. 

Aught,  poi^scssion  ;  as,  in 

a'  iin/  (iiKjlit,  ill  all  my 

j)ossi'ssion. 
Auldrarr;m,orauldfarraiit, 

cunning,  prudent. 
Ava,  at  all.  w 

Awa,  away. 


344 


GLOSSARY. 


Awfu',  awful. 

A.wn,  the  beard  of  barley, 

oats,  &c. 
Awnie,  bearded. 
Ayont,  beyond. 

B. 
BA',  ball. 

Backets,  ash-boards. 
Backlins  corain',   coming 

back,  returning. 
Bad,  did  bid. 
Baide,  endured,  did  stay. 
Baggie,  the  belly. 
Baine,  large-boned 
Bairn,  a  child. 
Bairn-time,    a   family    of 

children,  a  brood. 
Baith,  both. 
Ban,  to  swear. 
Bane,  bone. 

Bang,  to  beat,  to  strive. 
Bardie,  diminutive  of  bard. 
Barefit,  barefooted. 
Barmie,  of  or  like  barm. 
Batch,  a  crew,  a  gang, 
Batts,  boots. 
Baudrons,  a  cat. 
Bauld,  bold. 
Bawk,  a  ridge,  a  bank. 
Baws'nt,  having  a  white 

stripe  down  the  face. 
Be,  to  let  be,  to  give  over, 

to  cease. 
Bear,  barley. 
Beastie,  dimin.  of  beast. 
Beet,  to  add  fuel  to  fire. 
Belyve,  by  and  by. 


Ben,  in  the  parlour. 

Bethankit,  grace  after 
meat. 

Beuk,  a  book. 

Bicker,  a  kind  of  wooden 
dish,  a  short  race. 

Biel,  or  bield,  shelter. 

Bien,  wealthy,  plentiful. 

Big,  to  build. 

Biggin,  building  a  house. 

Biggit,  built. 

Bill,  a  bull. 

Billie,  a  brother,  a  young 
fellow. 

Bing,  a  heap  of  grain,  pota- 
toes, &c. 

Birk,  birch. 

Birkie,  a  clever  fellow 

Birring,  the  noise  of  par- 
tridges, &c.  when  they 
spring 

Bit,  crisis,  nick  of  time. 

Bizz,  a  bustle,  to  buzz. 

Blastie,  a  shrivelled  dwarf, 
a  terra  of  contempt. 

Blastit,  blasted. 

Blate,  bashful,  sheepish. 

Blather,  bladder. 

Bland,  a  flat  piece  of  any 
thing ;  to  slap. 

Blaw,  to  blaw,  to  boast. 

Bleerit,  bleared,  sore  with 
rheum. 

Bleezing,  blazing. 

Blellum,idletalkingfellow. 

Blether,  to  talk  idly,  non- 
sense. 

Bleth'rin,  talking  idly 


OLOSSAUV. 


;IJ5 


Blink,  a  little  v/liile ;  ni 
smiling  look  ;  to  look 
kindly  ;  to  sliiiie  l)y  tits. 

Blinker,  a  term  of  con- 
tempt. 

Blinkin,  smirkin. 

Blue-gown,  an  authorised 
beggar. 

Bluiii,  blood. 

Blype,a  shred,  alargepiece 

Bock,  to  vomit,  to  gush 
intermittently. 

Bocked,  gusiied,  vomited. 

Bodle,  a  small  copper  coin. 

Bogles,  spirits,  hobgoblins. I 

Bonnie,  or  bonny,  hand- 
some, beautit'uL 

Bounock,  a  kind  of  thick 
cake  ot  bread. 

Boord,  a  board. 

Boortree,  tlie  shrub  elder. 

Boostjbehoved ,  must  needs 

Bore,  a  hole  in  the  wall. 

Botch,  an  angry  tumour. 

Bousing,  drinking. 

Bow- kail,  cabbage. 

Bowt,  bended,  crooked. 

Bracliens,  fern. 

Brae,  a  declivity,  precipice 

Braid,  broad. 

Braindg't,  reeled  forward. 

Braik,  a  kind  of  harrow.  I 

Braindge,  to  rush  ra.>lily.  I 

Brak,  broke,  made  in^iol-' 
vent.  j 

Brank.s,  a  kind  of  wooden! 
curb  for  horses.  I 

Brash,  a  sudden  illness.     ! 


Brats,  coarse  clothes,  rags, 

children,  &e. 
Brattle,     a     short     race, 

hurry,  fury. 
Braw,  tine,  liandsome. 
Brawly,  or  brawlie,  very 

well,  iinely,  heartily. 
Braxie,  a  morbid  sheep. 
Breastie,  diniin.  of  hrt-a.-t. 
Breastit,  did  spring  up  or 

forward. 
Breehan,  fern. 
Breef,  an  irresistible  spell. 
Breeks,  breeches. 
Brent,  smooth. 
Brewi)!,  brewing. 
Brie,  juice,  li(piid. 
Brig,  a  bridge, 
lirunstane,  brimstone, 
Brisket,  the  breast. 
Blither,  a  brotlier. 
Brock,  a  badger. 
Brogue,  a  hum,  a  trick. 
Broo,  broth,  liquid,  water. 
Broose,  a  race  at  country 

weddings. 
Brujh,  a  burgli. 
Bruilzie,  a  broil. 
Brunt,  did  burn,  burnt. 
Brust,  to  burst,  burst. 
Buciian-bullers,  the  boil- 

in<4:    of   the  sea  oa    the 

coast  of  Buohan. 
Buckskin,  a  Virginian. 
]iu'.;lit,  a  pen. 
Bu;:htiu-tiine,  the  time  ot 

collecting  the  sheep   to 

be  milked. 


346 


GLOSSARY. 


Biiirdly,  stout  made. 

Bum-clock,  a  humming 
beetle. 

Bummiri',  liuraming  as 
bees. 

Bummle,  to  blunder. 

Bummler,  a  blunderer. 

Bunker,  a  window-seat. 

Burdies,  dirain.  of  birds. 

Bure,  did  bear. 

Burn,  water,  a  rivulet. 

Burnie,  dirain.  of  burn. 

Buskie,  bushy. 

Buskit,  dressed. 

Busle,  a  bustle,  to  bustle. 

But,  without. 

But  an'  ben,  kitchen  and 
parlour. 

By  himself,  lunatic,  dis- 
tracted. 

Byke,  a  bee-hive. 

Byre,  a  cow-stable. 


CA',  to  call,  to  name,  to 
drive. 

Ca't,  or  ca'd,  called,  dri- 
ven, calved. 

Cadger,  a  carrier. 

CaiF;  chaff. 

Caird,  a  tinker. 

Cairn,  a  heap  of  stones. 

Callan,  a  boy. 

Caller,  fresh,  sound. 

Canie,  or  cannie,  gentle, 
mild,  dexterous. 

Cantie,  or  canty,  cheerful 
merry. 


Cantrip,  a  charm,  a  spell. 

Cap-stane,  key-stone. 

Careerin,  cheerfully. 

Carl,  an  old  man. 

Carlin,  a  stout  old  woman, 

Cartes,  cards. 

Caudron,  a  cauldron. 

Caulk  and  keel,  chalk  and  I 
red  clay. 

Cauld,  cold. 

Caup,  a  wooden  drinking 
vessel. 

Chanter,  a  part  of  a  bag- 
pipe. 

Chap,  a  person,  a  fellow, 
b  blow. 

Chaup,  a  stroke,  a  blow. 

Cheekit,  cheeked. 

Cheep,  a  chirp,  to  chirp. 

Chiel  or  cheel,    a   young 
fellow. 

Chirala  or  chimlie,  a  fire- 
grate, a  fire-place. 

Chimla-lug,  the  fire-side. 

Chittering,    shivering, 
trembling. 

Chokin',  choking 

Chow,  to  chew  ;  cheek  for 
chow,  side  by  side. 

Chuffie,  fat-faced. 

Clachan,    a  small  village 
about  a  church. 

Clais,  or  claes,  clothes. 

Claith,  cloth. 

Claithing,  clothing. 

Claivers,  nonsense. 

Clap,  clapper  of  a  mill. 

Claricit,  wrote. 


OLO.SSAUY. 


.n: 


Clash,an  idle  tale,  the  story 

of  the  day. 
Clatter,  idle  stories. 
Claught,  snatched  at. 
Claut,  to  clean,  to  scrape. 
Clauted, scraped. 
Clavers,  idle  stories. 
Claw,  to  scratch. 
Claw'd  scratched. 
Cleed,  to  clothe. 
Cleekit,  having  caught. 
Clinkiii',  jerking,  clinking. 
Clinkumbell,  who  rings  the 

church  bells. 
Clips,  sheers. 
Clishmaclaver,  idle  talk. 
Clock,  to  hatch,  a  beetle. 
Cloakin',  hatching. 
Cloot,  hoof. 
Clootie,  the  Devil. 
Clour,  a  bump  or  swelling 

after  a  blow. 
Coble,  a  fishuig  boat. 
Cockernony,  a  lock  of  hair 

tied  upon  a  girl's  head  ; 

a  cap. 
Coi't,  bought. 
Cog,  a  wooden  dish. 
Coggie,  dimin.  of  cog. 
Coila,  from  /fi/Ze,  a  district 

of  Ayrshire. 
Collie,  a  name  for  country 

curs. 
CoUieshangic,  qur.rrell 
Comraaun,  couimand. 
Cood,  the  cud. 
Coof,  a  blockhead. 
Coost,  did  cast. 


Cooser,  u  horse  kepi  lor 
marcs. 

Coot,  the  ancle  or  foot. 

Cootie,  a  wooden  kitclu'u 
dish-  fowls  whose  U-irs 
are  clad  wilh  feathersure 
also  said  to  be  cootie. 

Corbies,  ravens. 

Core,  corps,  party,  clan. 

Corn't,  fed  with  oats. 

Cotter,  tlit^  inhabitants  of 
a  cottage. 

Couthie,  kind,  loving. 

Cove,  a  cave. 

Cowe,  to  terrify,  to  keep 
under,  to  lop';  a  fri^lit ; 
a  branch  of  furze,  broom, 
&c. 

Cowp,  to  barter,  to  tumble 
over,  a  gang. 

Cowpit,  tumbled. 

Cowring,  cowering. 

Cowte,  a  colt. 

Cozie,  snug. 

Cozily,  suugly. 

Crabbit,  fretful. 

Crack,  conversation,  tc 
converse. 

Crafr,  or  croft,  a  field. 

Craiks,  cries  or  calls  in- 
cessantly, a  bird. 

Crambo-clink,  or  crambo- 
jingle,  rhyujes,  doggerel 
versea. 

Crank,  the  noise  of  an  un- 
greased  wiieel. 

Crankou3.frctful,captious. 

CranreuclJ,  hoar  frost. 


348 


GLOSSARY. 


Crap,  a  crop,  to  crop. 
Craw,  crow  of  a  cock, 

rook. 
Creel,  a  basket. 
Creesliie,  greasy. 


IDaffin,  merriment,  foolish- 
a|    ness. 
iDaezt,  stupified,  deprived 
I     of  vigour  or  sensibility. 
JDaft,  merry  ,gid(ly,  foolish. 


Crood,  or  croud,  to  coo  as|Daimen,   rare,    now    and 


a  dove 

Croon,  a  continued  moan. 
Crooning,  bumming. 
Croucliie,  crook-backed. 


then  ;  daiinen-icker,  an 
ear  of corn  now  and  then. 
Dainty,    pleasant,    good- 
"  umoured,  agreeable. 


Crouse.  cheerful,  courage-'Dales,  plains,  valleys. 

ous.  iDaud,  to  thrash,  to  abuse. 

Crowdle,  a  composition  of  Daur,  to  dare. 

oatmeal  and  boiled  wa-IDaurg,  a  day's  labour. 

ter,  sometimes  from  thejDdvoe,  David. 

broth  of  beef,  mutton,  &c.jDawd,  a  large  piece. 
Crow(iie-time,    breakfast-lDawtit,  caressed. 


time. 
Crowlin,  crawling. 
Crummock,  a   cow    with 

crooked  horns. 
Cuif,  a  blockhead. 
Cummock,  a  short  staff. 
Curcliie,  a  curtsy. 
Curler,  a  player  at  a  game 

on  the  ice. 
Curlie,  curled. 
Curling,     a    well-known 

game  on  the  ice. 
Curmurring,  murmuring,  a 

slight  rumbling  noise. 
Curpin,  the  crupper. 
Cushat,  the  stock-dove,  or 

wood-pigeon. 
Cutty,  short,  a  spoon. 


DADDIE 


D. 

a  father. 


iDearies,  dimin.  of  dears. 
iDearthfu',  dear. 
Deave,  to  deafen. 
Deil-ma-care  !  no  matter! 
Deleerit,  delirious. 
Descrive,  to  describe. 
Dight,  to  wipe,  to  clean 

corn  from  chaff. 
Ding,  to  worst,  to  push. 
Dinna,  do  not. 
Dirl,  a  slight  stroke  or  pahi. 
Dizzen,  or  diz'n,  a  dozen. 
Doited,  stupified. 
Dolt,  stupified,  crazed  ;  a 

stupid  fellow. 
Donsie,  unlucky, 
Dool,  sorrow. 
Doos,  doves. 
Dorty,  saucy,  nice. 
Douce,    or    douse,  sober 

wise,  prudent. 


c;i,()ssAUV. 


a  19 


Dought,  was  or  were  able. 

Douj),  backside. 

Doure.  stout,  durable,  sul- 
len, stubborn. 

Dow.  ain  or  are  able,  ean. 

Dowff,  wantinr^  force. 

Dowie,    worn  with    grief, 
fatigue,  ifce. 

Doylt,  stupid. 

Drap,  a  drop,  to  drop. 

Dreep,  to  ooze,  to  drop. 

Dribble,  drizzling,  slaver. 

Drift,  a  drove. 

DrodduHi,  tiie  breech. 

Drone,  part  of  a  bagpipe. 

Droukit,  wet. 

Drounting,  drawling. 

Droutli,  thirst,  drought. 

Drumly,  muddy. 

Drumniock,  meal  and  wa- 
ter mixed  raw. 

Drunt,  pet,  sour  humour, 

Dub,  a  small  pond. 

Duds,  rags,  clothes. 

Duddie,  ragged. 

Dung,  worsted  ;  pushed. 

Dunted,  beaten,  boxed. 

Dush,  to  push  as  a  rara, 
&c. 


EE,  the  eye. 
Een,  the  eyes. 
E'enin',  evening. 


Hldritdi,  ghastly. 
En',  end. 

Enbrugli,  Edinburgli. 
Ettie,  to  try,  attempt. 
Eydent,  diligent. 

F. 
FA',  fall,  lot,  to  fall. 
Fa's,  does  fall,  waterfalls. 
Faddom't,  fathomed. 
Fae,  a  foe. 
Faem,  foam. 
Faiket,  unknown. 
Fairin,  a  present. 
Fallow,  fellow. 
Fand,  did  find. 
Farl,  a  cake  of  bread. 
F'ash,     trouble,    care,    to 

trouble,  care  for. 
Fasht,  troubled. 
Fastern-e'en,Fasten8-eveu 
Fauld,  a  fold,  to  fold. 
JFaulding,  folding. 
Faut,  fault. 

Fawsont,  decent,  seemly. 
Feal,  a  field,  smooth. 
Fearfu',  frightful. 
Fear't,  frighted. 
Feat,  neat,  spruce. 
Fecht,  to  tight. 
Fechtin,  fighting. 
Feck,  many,  plenty. 
JFecket,  wa'istcoat. 
JFeckfu',  large,  stout 


Eerie,  frighted,  dreadingj  Feckless,  punv,  weak. 

spirits.  iFecklv,  weakly. 

Eild,  oldage.  iFeg,  fig. 

Elbuck,  the  elbow.  Feid,  feud,  enmity. 


3o0 


GLOSSARY. 


Fell,  keen,  bitipg ;  the 
flesh  immediately  under 
the  skin  ;  a  field  pretty 
level,  on  the  side  or  top 
of  a  hill. 

Fen,  successful  struggle, 
fight. 

Feud,  to  live  comfortably. 

Ferlie,  or  ferley,  to  won- 
der ;  a  wonder  ;  a  term 
of  contempt, 

Fetch,  to  pull  by  fits. 

Fetch't,  pulled  intermit- 
tently. 

Fidge,  to  fidget. 

Fiet,  soft,  smooth. 

Fient,  fiend,  a  petty  oath. 

Fier,  sound,  healthy ;  a 
brother,  a  friend. 

Fisle,  to  make  a  rustling 
noise,  to  fidget,  a  bustle. 

Fit,  a  foot. 

Fittie-lan,  the  nearer  horse 
of  the  hindmost  pair  in 
the  plough. 

Fizz,  to  make  a  hissing 
noise. 

Flainen,  Flannel. 

Fleech,  to  supplicate  in  a 
flattering  manner. 

Fleechd,  supplicated. 

Fleechin,  suppUcating, 

Fleesh,  a  fleece. 

Fleg,  a  random  blow. 

Flether,  to  decoy  by  fair 
words. 

Fletherin,  flattering. 

Flew  it.  a  smart  blow. 


Fley,  to  scare,  to  frighten, 

Flitcher,  to  flutter  as 
young  nestlings,  when 
their  dam  approaches. 

Flickering,  to  meet,  to  en- 
counter with. 

Flinders,  shreds,  broken 
pieces. 

Flmgin-tree,  a  piece  of 
timber  hung  by  way  of 
partition  between  two 
horses  in  a  stable ;  a  flail. 

Flisk,  to  fret  at  the  yoke. 

Fliskit,  fretted. 

Flitter,  to  vibrate  like  the 
wings  of  small  birds. 

Flittering,  fluttering. 

Flunky,  a  servant  in  livery. 

Foord, a  ford. 

Forbears,  forefathers. 

Forbye,  besides. 

Forfairn,  worn  out,  jaded. 

Forfoughten,  fatigued. 

Forgather,  to  meet  with. 

Forgie,  to  forgive. 

Forjasket,  fatigued. 

Pother,  fodder. 

Fou',  full,  drunk. 

Foughten,  troubled,  haras- 
sed. 

Fouth,  plenty,  enough,  or 
more  than  enough. 

Fow,  a  bushel,  &;c. ;  also  a 
pitch-fork. 

Frae,  from. 

Fraeth,  froth. 

Frien',  friend. 

Fu',  full. 


GLOSSARY. 


n.')! 


Fuel,  the  scut  of  the  hare, 

Sec. 
Fnff,to  blow  intermittently 
Fiiff't,  did  blow. 
Funnie,  full  of  merriment, 

mirthful. 
Fur,  a  furrow. 
Furm,  a  form,  bench. 
Fyke,    trifling  cares;    to 

piddle,  to  be  in  a  fuss 

about  trifles. 
Fyle,  to  soil,  to  dirty. 
Fy'lt,  soiled,  dirtied. 

G. 

GAB,  the  mouth;  to  speak 
boldly  or  pertly. 

Gaber-Iaunzie,  an  old  man. 

Gadsman,  ploughboy,  the 
boy  that  drives  the  hor- 
ses in  the  plough. 

Gae,  to  go;  gaed,  went; 
gaen,  gone ;  gaun,  going. 

Gaet,  or  gate,  way,  man- 
ner, road. 

Gang,  to  go,  to  walk. 

Gar,  to  make,  to  force  to. 

Gar't,  forced  to. 

Garten,  a  garter. 

Gash,  wise,  sagacious, 
talkative,  to  converse. 

Gashin',  conversing. 

Gaucy,  jolly,  large. 

Gawky,  half-witted,  fool- 
ish, romping. 

Gear,  riches  of  any  kind. 

Geek,  to  toss  the  head  in 
wantonness  or  scorn. 


Ged,  a  pike. 

(ientles,  great  folk'^. 

{Jeordie,  a  guinea. 

Get,  a  cliild,  a  young  ono. 

Ghaist,  a  ghost. 

Gie,  to  give  ;  gied,  gav«- ; 
gien,  given. 

Giftie,  diniin.  of  gift. 

Giglets,  phivful  uirls. 

Gillie,  diniiil.  of  gill. 

Gilpey,  a  half-grown,  half- 
informed  boy  or  L^irl,  a 
romping  lad,  a  hoidou. 

Gimmer,  an  ewe  from  one 
to  two  years  old. 

Gin,  if,  against. 

Gipsy,  a  young  girl. 

Girning,  grinning. 

Gizz,  a  periwig. 

Glaikit,  inattentive,  fool- 
ish, romping. 

Glaive,  a  sword. 

Glaizie,  glittering,  smootli 
like  a  glass. 

Glaura'd,  aimed, snatched. 

Gleg,  sharp,  ready. 

Gleib,  glebe. 

Glen,  dale,  deep  valley. 

Gley,  a  squint ;  to  squint ; 
a-gley,  otF  at  a  side, 
wrong. 

GUb-gabbet,  that  speaks 
smootiily  and  readily. 

Glint,  to  peep. 

iGlinted,  peeped. 

|Glintin',  peeping. 

dloamin',  the  twiliglit. 

'Glowr,  to  stare,  to  look. 


GLOSSARV. 


Glowred,  looked,  stared 
Gowan,  the  flower  of  the 

daisy,  dandelion,  hawk- 
weed,  &c. 
Gowany,     gowany  glens 

daisied  dales. 
Gowd,  gold. . 
Gowff,  tlie  game  of  golf; 

to  strike  as  the  bat  does 

the  ball  at  golf. 
Gowff'd,  struck. 
Gowk,  a  cuckoo,  a  term  of 

contempt. 
Gowl,  to  howl. 
Granc,  or  grain,  a  groan, 

to  groan. 
Graiu'd      and      gaunted, 

groaned  and  grunted. 
Graining,  groaning. 
Graip,  a  pronged  instru- 
ment for  cleaning  stables 
Graith,       accoutrements, 

furniture,  dress,  gear. 
Grannie,  grandmotlier. 
Grape,  to  grope. 
Grapit,  groped. 
Grat,  wept,  shed  tears. 
Great,  intimate,  familiar 
Gree,  to  agree ;  to  bear  the 

gree,    to    be  decidedly 

victor. 
Gree't,  agreed. 
Greet,  to  shed  tears. 
Greetin',  crying,  weeping. 
Grippet,  catched,  seized. 
Groat,  to  get  the  whistle 

of  one's  groat,  to  play  a 

losing  game. 


Grousome,loathsome,gnm 

Grozet,  a  gooseberry. 

Grum  ph ,  a  grunt,  to  grunt. 

Grumphie,  a  sow. 

Grun',  ground. 

Grunstane,  a  grindstone. 

Gruntle,  the  phiz,  a  grunt- 
ing noise. 

Gruiizie,  month- 

Grushie,  thick,  of  thriving 
growth. 

Gude,  the  Supreme  Being; 
jood. 

Giiid,  good. 

Guid-morning,  good  mor- 
row. 

Guid-e'en,  good  evening. 

Guidman  and  Guidwife, 
the  master  and  mistress 
of  the  house ;  young 
guidman,  a  man  newly 
married. 

Gully,  or  gullie,  a  large 
knife. 

Guidfather,  guidmother, 
father-in-law,  and  mo- 
ther-in-law. 

Gumlie,  muddy. 

Gusty,  tasteful. 
II. 

HA',  hall. 

Ha'-bible,  the  great  bible 
that  lies  in  the  hall. 

Hae,  to  have. 

Haen,  had,  the  participle. 

Haet,  fient  haet,  a  petty 
oath  of  negation ;  no- 
thing. 


(iLOS.SAUV 


:{.>3 


Haflet,  the  tfiuple,  the 
side  of  the  liead. 

HafHins,  nearly  lialf,  partly 

Hag,  a  scar,  or  gulf  in 
mosses  and  moors.  ' 

Haggis,  a  kind  of  pudding] 
boiled  in  the  stomach  of 
a  cow  or  sheep. 

Hain,  to  spare,  to  save. 

Hain'd,  spared. 

Hairst,  harvest. 

Haith,  a  petty  oath. 

Haivers,  ncmsense,  speak- 
ing without  thought. 

Hal',  or  liald,  an  abiding 
place. 

Hale,whole,  tight,healthy, 

Haly,  holy. 

HallanjU  particular  parti- 
tion-wall in  a  cottage,  or 
more  properly  a  seat  of 
turf  at  the  outside. 

Hallowmas,  Hallow-eve, 
the  31st  of  October. 

Hame,  home. 

Hamely,  liomely,  aflfable. 

Hameward,  homeward. 

Han',  or  haun',  hand. 

Hap,  an  outer  garment, 
mantle,  plaid,  &c.  to 
wrap,  to  cover,  to  hap. 

Happer,  a  hopper. 

Happing,  hopping. 

Hap,  step,  an'  loup,  liop 
skip  and  leap. 

Harkit,  hearkened. 

Harn,  very  coarse  linen. 

Hastit,  hastened. 
17  *i  A 


Hash,  a  fellow  that  neillier 
knows  how  to  «ircss  nor 
act  with  proprietv. 

Haud,  to  hold. 

Haiigiis,  low-lying  rich 
lands ;  valleys. 

Haurl,  to  drai,  to  peel. 

Haurlin',  peeling. 

Havcrel,  a  half-witted  per- 
son ;  half-witted. 

Havins,  good  manners, 
decorum,  good  sense. 

Hawkie,  a  cow,  properly 
one  with  a  white  face. 

Heapit,  heaped, 

Healsome,  healthful. 

Hearse,  hoarse. 

Hear't,  hear  it. 

Heather,  heath. 

Hech  !  oh  !  strange  ! 

Heciit,  promised  to  fore- 
tell something  that  is  to 
be  got  or  given  ;  fore- 
told ;  the  thing  foretold  ; 
ottered. 

Heckle,  a  board  in  which 
are  tixed  a  number  of 
sharp  pins,  used  in  dres- 
sing hemp,  ttax,  &c. 

Heeze,  to  elevate. 

Helm,  the  rudder  or  lielm. 

Herd,  to  tend  flocks,  one 
who  tends  flocks. 

Herry,  to  plunder ;  uioht 
properly  to  plunder 
birds'  nests. 

Herryraent,  plundering 
devastation. 


354 


GLOSSARY. 


Hersel,her8elf ;  also  a  herd 
of  cattle  of  any  sort. 

Het,  hot. 

Heugh,acrag,  or  coal-pit. 

Hilch,  a  hobble,  to  halt. 

Hiltie-skiltie,  in  rapid 
succession. 

Himsel',  himself. 

Hinney,  honey. 

Hing,  to  hang. 

Hirple,  to  walk  crazily, 
to  creep. 

liirsel,  so  many  cattle  as 
one  person  can  attend. 

Histie,  dry,  chapt,  barren 

Hitcht,  a  loop,  a  knot. 

Hizzie,hussy,  a  young  girl. 

Hiddin,  humble. 

Hog-score,  a  distance  line, 
in  curling,  drawn  across 
the  rbiTt. 

Ilog-shouther,  justling 
with  the  shoulder ;  to 
justle. 

Hool,  outer  skin  or  case. 

Hoolie,  slowly,  leisurely. 

Hoolie !  take  leisure. 

Hoord,  aboard;  to  hoard 

Hoordit,  hoarded. 

Horn,a  spoon  made  of  horn 

Hornie,  the  devil. 

Host,  or  hoast,  to  cough. 

Hotch'd,  turned  topsy- 
turvy, mixed. 

Houghmagaudie,  fornica- 
tion. 

Houp,  hope. 

Houlct,  an  owl. 


Housie,  dimin.  of  house. 

Hove,  to  heave,  to  swell. 

Howdie,  a  midwife,  i 

Howe,  hollow,  a  hollow.        i 

Howebackit,  sunk  in  tlie    '• 
back.  ' 

Howfl',  a  house  of  resort. 

Howk,  to  dig. 

Hoy,  to  urge. 

Hoyse,  a  pull  upwards. 

Hoyte,  to  amble  crazily. 

Hughoc,  dimin.  of  Hugh. 

Hunkers,  the  ham,the  hin- 
der part  of  the  thigh. 

Hurcheon,  a  hedgehog. 

Hurdles,  the  loins,  the 
crupper. 

Hushion,  a  cushion. 

I. 

r,  in. 

Icker,  an  ear  of  corn, 
ler-oe,  a  great  grandchild 
Ilk,  or  ilka,  each,  every. 
lU-willie,  ill-natured,  ma- 
licious, niggardly. 
Ingine,  genius,  ingenuity. 
Ingle,  fire,  fire-place. 
I'sc,  I  shall  or  will. 
Ither,  other,  one  another. 

J. 

JAD,  jade  ;  also  a  familiar 
term  for  a  giddy  young 
girl. 

Jauk,  to  dally,  to  trifle .      . 

Jaw,  course  raillery,  to 
pour  out  as  water. 


t...Uo.SAUV 


lioO 


Jaup,  a  jerk  of  water. 
Jillet,  a  jilt,  a  giddy  girl. 
Jimp,    to  jump,    slender, 

handsome. 
Jink,  to  dodge,  to  turn  a 

corner,asu(ldeii  turning. 
Jinker,  that  turns  quickly, 

a  sprightly  girl,  a  wag. 
Jirk,  a  jerk. 

Jocteleg,  a  kind  of  knife. 
Jouk,  to  stoop,  to  bow  the 

head. 
Jow,  to  jow,  tlie  swinging 

motion      and      pealing 

sound  of  a  large  bell. 
Jundie,  tojustle. 


Kin,  kindred  ;  Kin',  kind. 
Kinu^'s-hood,  a  ctrtaiii  p.trt 

of  the  entrails  of  an  ox, 

&c. 
Kintra,  country. 
Kintra-cooser,   a  country 

stallion. 
Kirn,  the  harvest  supper, 

a  churn. 
Kirsen,  to  baptize. 
Kist,  a  chest. 
Kitchen,   any  thing   that 

eats  with  bread,  ttj  serve 

for  soup,  gravy,  kc. 
Kitli,  khidred. 
Kittle,  to  tickle,  ticklisii, 

lively. 
Kittlin, 


a  young  oat. 
KAE,  a  daw.  Kuittle,  to  ciulille. 

Kail,  colewort,  a  kind  ot'  Knappin-hammer,  a  hara- 

brnth.  I     mer  for  breaking  stones. 

Kail-runt,    the    stem    ollKnowe,  a  round  hillock. 

colewort.  {Knurl,  a  dwarf. 

Kain,   fowls,  &c.  paid  asiKye,  cows. 

rent  by  a  farmer.  JKyle,  a  district  in  Ayrshire, 

Kebbuck,  a  cheese,  Kyte,  the  liflly. 

Keek,  a  peep,  to  peep.       iKy the,  to  discover,  to  shew 
Kelpies,  mischievous  spi-     one's  self. 

rits,  said  to  haunt  fords 

and  ferries  at  night.  L. 

Ken,  to  know.  LAGGEN,  the  angl 


Kennin,  a  small  matter. 
Kenspeckle,  well  known. 
Ket,  matted,  hairy. 
Kiaugh,  carking  anxiety. 
Kilt,  to  truss  up  the  clothes 


be- 
tween the  sitle  and  l«)t« 
toni  of  a  wooden  di»h. 

Laigh,  low. 

Lairing,  sinking  in  enow, 
mud,  kc 


Kimmer,  a  younj 
gossip. 


irl,  aiLaith,  loath. 

iLaithfu',  bashful. 


356 


GLOSSARY. 


Lallans,  Scottisli  dialect. 

Lambie,  dimin.  of  lamb. 

Lanipit,  a  kind  of  shell  fish. 

Lan',  land,  estate. 

Lane,  lone ;  my  lane,  thy 
lane,  &c.  myself  alone. 

Lanely,  lonely. 

Lang,  long-,  to  weary. 

Lap,  did  leap. 

Lave,  the  rest,  the  remain- 
der. 

Laverock,  the  lark.  i 

Lawin,  reckoning.  ' 

Lawlan',  lowland. 

Lea,  pasture  ground,  un- 
ploughed. 

Lea'e,  to  leave. 

Leal,  loyal,  true. 

Lea-rig,  grassy  ridge. 

Lear,  learning. 

Lee-lang,  live-long. 

Leesome,  pleasant. 

Leeze-me,  a  phrase  of  en- 
dearment, I  am  liappy  or 
proud  of  tliee. 

Leister,  a  three-pronged 
tisli-dart. 

Leugh,  did  laugh. 

Leuk,  a  look,  to  look. 

Libbet,  gelded. 

Lift,  sky. 

Lightly,  sneeringly. 

Lilt,  a  ballad,  a  tune,  to 
sing. 

Limmer,  a  kept  mistress, 
a  strumpet. 

Limp't,  limped,  hobbled. 

Link,  to  trip  along. 


Linn,  a  v/aterfall,  a  pre- 
cipice. 

Lint,  flax  ;  lint  i'  the  bell, 
flax  in  flower. 

Lintwhite,  a  linnet. 

Loan,  or  laanhig,  the  place 
of  milking, 

Loof,  tlie  palm  of  the  hand. 

Loot,  did  let. 

LoQves,  plural  for  loof. 

Loun,  a  fellow,  a  raga- 
muffin, a  woman  of  easy 
virtue. 

Loup,  jump,  leap. 

Lowe,  a  flame. 

Lowrie,  Lawrence. 

Lowse,  to  loose. 

Lug,  the  ear,  a  handle. 

Lugget,  having  a  handle. 

Luggie,  a  small  wooden 
dish  with  a  handle. 

Lura,  the  chimney. 

Lunch,  a  large  piece  of 
cheese,  flesh,  kc. 

Lunt,  a  column  of  smoke  j 
to  smoke. 

Lyart,  grey. 

M.  \ 

JNIAE,  more. 
Mair,  more. 
Maist,  most,  almost. 
Maistly,  mostly. 
Mak,  to  make. 
Mailon,  farm. 
Mailie,  Molly. 
Mang,  among. 
Manse,the  minister's  house 


GI.OSSAllV 


3.-i7 


Manteele,  a  mantle, 

Mark,  marks,  (Tliis  and  so- 
venil  other  nouns  which 
in  English  require  an  s, 
to  form  the  plural,  are 
in  Scotch,  like  the  words 
sheep,  deer,  the  same  in 
both  numbers.) 

Mar's  year,  the  year  1715. 

Mashlum,  Meslin,  mixed 
corn. 

Mask,  to  mash. 

Maskin'-pat,  a  tea-pot. 

Maukin,  a  hare. 

Maun,  must. 

Mavis,  the  thrush. 

Maw,  to  mow. 

Meere,  a  mare. 

Meickle,  or  Meikle,  much. 

Melancholius,  mournful. 

Melder,  corn,  or  grain, 
sent  to  be  ground. 

Mell,  to  mingle,  a  mallet. 

Melvie,  to  soil  with  meal. 

Men',  to  mend. 

Mense,  good  manners. 

Menseless,  ill-bred,  rude. 

Messhi,  a  small  dog. 

Midden,  a  dunghill. 

Midden-creL'ls,'baskcts  for 
lioldiniT  dung. 

Midden-hole,  a  gutter  at 
a  dunghill. 

Mim,prim,afiectedly  meek 

Miu',  mind,  remembranci' 

Miiid't,  mind  it,  resolved 
intending. 

iMinnie,  mother  dam 


Mirk,  dark. 

Misca',  to  abiiso,  to  mil 
names. 

Misleard,  miscliievou"*, 
unmannerly. 

Misteuk,  mistook. 

Mither,  a  mother. 

Mixtie-maxtie,  confusc<lly 
mixed. 

Moil,  labour. 

Moistify,  to  moisten. 

Mony,  or  3Ioine,  many. 

Moop,  to  nil)ble  as  a  sheep. 

Moorlan',  of  or  bi-longinjf 
to  moors. 

Morn,  to  morrow. 

Mou,  the  moutii. 

Moudiwort,  a  mole. 

Mousie,  dimin.  of  mouse. 

Muckle,  or  Mickle,  great, 
h\>i,  much. 

Musie,  dimin.  of  muse. 

Muslin-kail,  broth,  com- 
posed simply  of  water, 
shelled  barley  Si  greens. 

Mutchkin,  an  English  pint. 

Mysel,  myself. 

N. 

NA,  no,  not,  nor. 
Nae,  no.  not  any. 
iVaig,  a  horse. 
Nappy,  ale. 
NegleVkit,  neglected. 
Xeuk,  nook. 
Niest,  liixt. 
Nit've,  the  list. 
NilR-r,  an  excnnngf. 


308 


GLOSSARY. 


Nigger,  a  Negro. 
Nine-tail'd-cat,   a   liang- 

raan's  whip. 
Nit,  a  nut. 
Norland,  north  land. 
Nowte,  black  cattle. 

O. 

O',  of. 

Ochels,name  of  mountains 

t)  haith !  O  faith !  an  oath 

Ony,  or  Ouie,  any. 

Or,  is  often  used  for  ere. 

Ora,  or  Orra,  superfluous, 
unwanted. 

O't,  of  it. 

Oughtlins,  in  tlie  least  de- 
gree. 

Ourie,  shivering,  drooping. 

Oarsel,oroursels,ourselves 

Outlers,  cattle  not  housed. 

Ower,  over,  too. 

Owre-hip,  a  way  of  fetch- 
ing a  blow  with  the 
hammer  over  the  arm. 


PACK,  intimate,  familiar 
twelve  stone  of  wood. 

Painch,  paunch. 

Paitrick,  a  partridge. 

Pang,  to  cram. 

Parle,  speecii. 

Parritch,  oatmeal  pud- 
ding. 

Pat,  did  put,  a  pot. 

Pattle,  or  pettle,  a  plough- 
staff'. 


Paughty,  proud,  hauglity. 

Pauky,  or  Pav/kie,  cun- 
ning, sly. 

Pay't,  paid,  beat. 

Pech,  to  fetch  the  breath 
short,  as  in  an  asthma. 

Pechan,  the  stomach. 

Pet,  a  domesticated  sheep, 
&c. 

Pettle,  to  cherish. 

Phillibegs,  short  petti- 
coats worn  by  the  High- 
landmen. 

Phraise,  fair  speeches, 
flattery,  to  flatter. 

Phraisin,  flattery. 

Pibroch,  a  Highland  war- 
song  adapted  to  the 
bagpipe. 

Pickle,  a  small  quantity. 

Pine,  pain,  uneasiness.* 

Pit,  to  put. 

Placad,  a  public  procla- 
mation. 

Plack,  an  old  Scottish  coin, 
thethirdpartofaScotcli 
penny,  twelve  of  which 
make  an  English  penny. 

Plackless,  pennyless. 

Plaid,  an  outer  loose  gar- 
ment. 

Platie,  dimin.  of  plate. 

PleWjOr  Pleugh,  a  plough. 

Pliskie,  a  trick. 

Pock,  a  bag,  a  small  sack. 

Poind,  to  seize  on  cattle. 

Poortith,  poverty. 

Pou,  to  pull. 


GLOSSARY. 


ooi) 


Pouk,  to  pluck. 

Pouse,  to  push,  to  pene- 
trate. 

Poussie,  a  hare,  a  cat. 

Pout,  a  poult,  a  chick. 

Pou't,  did  pull. 

Pouthery,  like  powder. 

Pow,  the  head,  the  skull. 

Pownie,  a  little  horse. 

Powther,  powder. 

Preen,  a  pin. 

Prent,  Printing. 

Prie,  to  taste. 

Prie'd,  tasted. 

Prief,  proof. 

Prigjto  cheapen,to  dispute. 

Primsie,  demure,  precise. 

Propone,  to  lay  down,  to 
propose. 

Provoses,  provosts. 

Pyle,  a  pyle  o'  calf,  a  sin- 
gle grain  of  chaff. 


QUAK,  to  quake. 
Quat,  to  quit. 
Quey,  a  cow  from  one  to 
two  years  old. 

R. 

RAGWEED,  lierb  rag- 
wort. 

Raible,  to  rattle  nonsense. 

Rair,  to  roar. 

Raize,  to  madden,  to  in- 
flame. 

Ram-feezl'd,  fatigued, 
overspread. 


Ram- s  tarn,  thoughtless, 
forward 

Raploch,  properly  a  coarse 
cloth,  but  u?ed  as  aw 
ad  noun  for  coarse. 

Rarely,  excellently. 

Rash,' a  rush  ;  rash-buss,  a 
bush  of  rushes. 

Ratton,  a  rat. 

Raucle,  stout,  fearless. 

Raught,  reached. 

I  Raw,  a  row. 

I  Rax  to  stretch. 

'Ream,  cream  ;  to  cream. 

iReamin,  brimful,  frothing. 

jReave,  rove. 

I  Reck,  to  heed. 

I  Redo,  counsel,  to  counsel. 

JRed-wat-shod,  walking  in 

j    blood  over  the  shoe-tops. 

Red-wud,  stark  mad. 

Ree,  half-drunk,  fuddled. 

Reek,  smoke. 

Remead,  remedy. 

Rest,  to  stand  restive. 

Restit,  stood  restive,stunt- 
ed,  withered. 

Rew,  repent. 

Rief,  reef,  plenty. 

Rief  randies,  sturdy  beg- 
gars. 

Rig,  a  ridge. 

Riu,  to  run,  to  melt. 

Rink,  the  course  of  the 
stones  in  curling  on  ice. 

|Rip,  a  handful  of  uu- 
thrcshed  corn. 

iRiskit,  made  a  noise. 


300 


GUOSSAKY. 


tlockin',    spinning  on  the 

rock,  or  distaft". 
Roon,  a  slired. 
Roose,  to  praise. 
Roopet,  hoarse. 
Routhie,  plentiful. 
Row,  to  roll,  to  wrap. 
Rowte,  to  low,  to  bellow. 
Rowth,  or  routh,  plenty. 
Rozet,  rosin. 
Rung,  a  cudgel. 
Runkled,  wrinkled. 
Runt,  the  stem  of  colewort 

or  cabbage. 
Ruth,  sorrow. 

S. 
SAE,  so. 
Saft,  soft. 

Sair,  to  serve,  a  sore. 
Sairly,  or  sairlie,  sorely. 
Sair't  served. 
Sark,  a  shirt. 
Saugh,  the  willow. 
Saul,  soul. 
Saumont,  salmon. 
Saunt,  a  saint. 
Saut,  salt. 
Saw,  to  sow. 
Sax,  six. 

Scairh,   or  skaith,  to  da- 
mage, to  injure. 
Scar,  to  scare,  a  scar. 
Scaud,  to  scald. 
Scauld,  to  scold. 
Scaur,  apt  to  be  scared. 
Scawl,  a  scold. 
Scone,  a  kind  of  bread. 


Sconner,    a    loathing,    to 

loathe. 
Scraich,   to    scream  as  a 

hen,  partridge.  Sec. 
Screed,  to  tear,  a  rent. 
Scrieve,   to   glide   swiftly 

along. 
Scrimp,  to  scant. 
See'd,  did  see. 
Sel,   self;    a    body's    sel, 

one's  self  alone. 
Sell't,  did  sell. 
iSen',  to  send. 
iSettlin',  settling  ;  to  get  a 
i     settlin',    to    be  frighted 
{    into  quietness. 
iShaird,  a  shred,  a  shaird. 
;Shangan,  a  stick  cleft  at 
i    one  end  for  putting  the 

tail  of  a  dog,  &c.  into. 
Shaver,  a  humerous  wag, 

a  barber. 
Shaw,   to   shew,   a  small 

wood  in  a  hollow  place. 
Sheen,  bright,  shinhig. 
Sheep-shank,      to     think 

one's    self    nae    sheep- 
shank, to  be  conceited. 
Sheugh,  a  ditch,  a  trench, 

a  sluice. 
Shiel,  a  shed. 
Shill,  shrill. 
Sliog,  a  shock,  a  push  off 

at  one  side. 
'Shool,  a  shovel. 
jSlioon,  shoes. 
{ Shore,  to  offer,  to  threaten. 
'Shouther,  the  shoulder. 


GLOa.SARY 


;3(; 


Sic,  such. 

Sicker,  sure,  steady. 

Sidelins,  sidelong,  slanting 

Siller,  silver,  money. 

Simmer,  summer. 

Sin, a  son. 

Sin',  since. 

Skel  I  u  ra  ,a  worthless  fellow 

Skelp,  to  strike,  to  walk 
with  a  smart  tripping 
step,  a  smart  stroke. 

Skelpi-limmer,  a  teclmical 


Smoother,  to  sniootlh.T. 

Smoor'd,  smothered. 

Sinoiitio,  obscene. 

Sniytrie,  a  numerous  col- 
lection of  small  indivi- 
duals. 

Snapper,  stumble, 

Snasli,  abuse,  Billinnscratu 

Snaw,  snow,  to  snow. 

Snaw-broo,  melted  snow. 

Sneck,  latch  af  a  door. 

Sued,  to  lop,  to  cut  oil'. 


term  in  female  scolding.  Snecshin,  snuii'. 
Skelpin,stepping,walkin'j:.|Siieesliin-niiIl,  a  snuff-box 
Skiegh,  or  Skeiyli,  proud. jSnoll,  bitter,  l)iting. 

nice,  high-mettled.  Snick-drawing, trick-con- 


Skinklin,  a  small  portion. 
Skirl,    to    shriek,   to   cry 

shrilly. 
Skirl't,  shrieked. 
Sklent,  slant,  to  run  aslant, 

to  deviate  from  trutli. 
Skreigh,     a    scream,     to 

scream. 
Slae,  sloe. 
Slade,  did  slide. 
Slap,  a  gate,  a  breach  in  a 

fence. 
Slaw,  slow. 

Slee,  sly  ;  Sleest,  slyest. 
Sleekit,  sleek,  sly. 
Sliddery,  slippery. 
Slype,  to  fall  over. 
Slypet,  fell. 
Sma',  small. 
Smeddum,   dust,  powder 

mettle,  sense. 
Smiddy,  a  smitliy. 


tnvnig. 
Snick,  tlie  latchet  of  a  door 
Snool,  one  whose  spirit  is 

broken  with  oppressive 

slavery ;      to      submit 

tamely,  to  sneak. 
Snoove,  togosmootidyaiid 

constantly,  to  sneak. 
Snowk,  to  scent  or  snuif 

as  a  dog. 
Sonsie,  having  sweet  eri- 

gaiiinglooks, lucky,  jol!y 
Soom,  to  swim. 
Sooth,  trutii,  a  potty  oatli 
Sough,  or  sugii,  a  sigh,  a 

sound  (lyiuir  on  tlie  car. 
Soui)le,  flexible,  .<»wift. 
Souter,  a  shoenmker. 
Sowens,  a  disli  madeof  ti.e 

seeds  of  oatmeal  soured 

and  boiled  uji  to  make 

n  p;j(iding. 


50-2 


GLOSSARY. 


Sowp,  a  spoonful,  a  small  .Squatter,  to  flutter   as  a 
quantity    of  any  thing!     wild-duck,  Sec. 


liquid. 
Sowtli,  to  try  over  a  tune 

with  a  low  whistle. 
Sowther,  solder,  to  solder, 

to  cement. 
Spae,  to  prophesy ,todivine 
Spaul,  the  loin  bone. 
Spairge,  to  dash,  to  spoil. 
Spaviet,  having  the  spavin 
Sueat,  or  spate,  a  sweep- 
ing torrent,  after  rain  or 

thaw. 
Speel,  to  cliral). 
Spence,  the  parlour. 
Spier,  to  ask,  to  inquire. 
Spier't,  inquired. 
Splatter,    a  splutter,    to 

splutter. 
Spleughan,      a      tobacco 

pouch. 
Splorc,  a  frolic,  a  noise. 
Spruttle,  to  scramble 


jSquattle,  to  sprawl. 
Squeel ,  ascreu m ,  a  screech , 

to  scream. 
Stacher,  to  stao-ger. 
Stack,  a  rick  of  corn,  hay^ 

&c. 
Staggie,  dimin.  of  stag. 
Stalwart,  strong,  stout. 
Stan,  to  stand ;  stan't,  did 

stand. 
Stane,  a  stone. 
Stank,  did  stink;  a  pool 

of  standing  water. 
Stap,  stop. 
Stark,  stout. 
Startle,  to  ran  as  cattle 

stung  by  the  gadfly. 
Staurarel,    a    blockhead, 

half-witted. 
Staw,  did  steal,  to  surfeit. 
Stech,  to  cram  the  belly. 
Steek,  to  shut,  a  stitch. 


Spreckled, spotted,  speck-ISteer,  to  molest,  to  stir. 


led. 

Spring,  a  quick  air  in  mu- 
sic, a  Scottish  reel. 

Sprit,  a  plant,  something 
like  rushes. 

Spunk,  tire,  mettle,  wit. 

Spunkie,mettlesome,fiery; 
will-o'-wisp,  or  ignis 
fatuus. 

Spurtle,  a  stick  used  in 
making  pudding  or  por- 
ridge. 

Squad,  a  crew,  a  party. 


Steeve,  firm,  compact. 

Stell,  a  still. 

Sten,  to  rear  as  a  horse. 

Stents,  tribute,  dues  of 
any  khid. 

Stey,  steep. 

Stibble,  stubble ;  stibble- 
rig,  the  reaper  who 
takes  the  lead. 

Stick  an'  stow,  totally,  al- 
together. 

Stilt,  a  crutch  ;  to  halt,  to 
jinij). 


GLOSSARY. 


363 


Stimpart,  the  eighth  of  alStuddie,  ar,  anvil. 


Winchester  bnshel 

Stirk,  a  cow  or  bullock  a 
year  old. 

Stock,  a  plant  or  root  of 
colewort,  cabbage,  &c. 

Stockin',  stocking ;  throw- 
ing the  stockin',  when 
the  brideand  bridegroom 
are  put  into  bed,  and  the 
candle  out,  the  former 
throws  astocking  at  ran- 
dom among  the  compa- 
ny, and  the  personwhom 
it  strikes  is  the  next  that 
will  be  married. 

Stooked,made  up  in  shocks 
as  corn. 

Stoor,    sounding    hollo 
strong  and  hoarse. 


Stot,  an  ox. 


Stumpie,  dimin.  of  stump. 
Strunt,  spirituous   liquor 

of  any  kind  ;    to  walk 

sturdily. 
Sturtin,  frighted. 
Sucker,  sugar. 
Sud,  should, 
Suthron,  southern,  an  old 

name    for   the   English 

nation. 
Swaird,  sward. 
Swall'd,  swelled. 
Swank,  stately,  jolly. 
Swankie,  or  swanker,   a 

tight    strapping  young 

fellow  or  girl. 
Swap,    an    exchange,    to 

barter. 
Swarf,  swoon. 


I  Swat,  did  sweat. 


Stoup,  or  Stowp,  a  kind  ot  Swatch,  a  sarapl 


jug  with  a  handle. 
Stoure,  dust. 
Stowlins,  by  stealth. 
Stowen,  stolen. 
Stoj'te,  stumble. 
Strack,  did  strike. 


Swats,  drink,  good  ale. 
Sweatin',  sweating. 
Sweer,  lazy,  averse ;  dead- 
sweer,  extremely  averse 
Swoor,  swore,  did  swear. 
Swinge,  to  beat,  to  whip. 


Strae,  straw  ;  to  die  a  fair  Swirl,  a  curve,  an  eddying 


strae  death,  to  die  in  bed 

Straik,  did  strike. 

S'traikit,  stroked. 

Strappan,  tall  and  hand- 
some. 

Straught,  straight. 

Streek,  stretched,  to 
stretch. 

Stroan,  to  spout,  to  pi'ss 


blast,  or  pool,  a  knot  hi 
wood. 

Swirlio,  knaggy,  full  of 
knots. 

Swith,  get  away. 

Swither,  to  hesitate  in 
choice,  an  irresolute  wa- 
vering in  choice. 

Syne,  since,  ago,  then. 


304 


GLOSSARY. 


T. 

TACKETS,  akind  ofnails, 
for  driving  into  the  heels 
of  slices. 

Tae,  a  toe ;  three-tae'd 
having  three  prongs. 

Tairge,  tars:et. 

Tak,  to  take ;  takin,taking 

Tangle,  a  sea-weed. 

Tap,  the  top. 

Tapetless,  heedless,  fool- 
ish. 

Tarrow,  to  murmur  at  one's 
allowance, 

Tarrow't,  murmured. 

Tarrv-breeks,  a  sailor. 

Tauld,  or  tald,  told. 

Taupie,  a  foolish  thought- 
less young  person. 

Tauted,  or  tautie,  matted 
together  J  spoken  of  hair 
or  wool. 

Tawie,   that  allows  itself 
peaceably   to   be    han 
died ;  spoken  of  a  horse, 

cow,  iScC. 

Teat,  a  small  quantity. 

Tedding,  spreading  after 
the  mower. 

Ten-hours- bite,  a  slight 
feed  to  the  horses  wiiile 
in  the  yoke,  in  the  fore- 
noon. 

Tent,  a  field  pulpit,  heed 
caution,  take  heed. 

Tentie,  heedful,  cautious. 

Tentless,  heedless. 

Teua^h,  tou'^h. 


Thack,  thatch  ;  thack  an' 
rape,  clothing. 

Thae,  these. 

Thairms,  small-guts,  fid- 
dle strings. 

Thankit,  thanked. 

Theekit,  thatched. 

Thegither,  together. 

Thenisels,  themselves. 

Thick,  intimate,  familiar. 

Thieveless,  cold,  dry,  spit- 
ed ;  spoken  of  a  person's 
demeanour. 

Thir,  these. 

Thirl,  to  thrill. 

Thirled,  thrilled,  vibrated. 

Thole,  to  suffer,  to  endure. 

Tiiowe,  a  thaw,  to  thaw, 

Tiiowless,  slack,  lazy. 

Tiirang,  throng,  a  crowd. 

Thrapple,  throkt,windpipe 

Thraw,  to  sprain,  to  twist, 
to  contradict, 

Thrawin',  twisting,  &;c. 

Thrawn,  sprained,  twisted, 
contradicted,  contradic- 
tion. 

Threap,  to  maintain  by 
dint  of  assertion, 

Threshin',  thrashing. 

Threteen,  thirteen. 

Thristle,  thistle. 

Through,  to  go  on  witli, 
to  make  out. 

Throuther,  pell-mell,  con- 
fusedly. 

Thumpit,  thumped. 

Thysei',  thyself. 


GLOSS  A  ICY 


JiJJO 


Thud,  to  luaku  ii  loud  in- 
termittent uoise ;  a  blow 
producing  a  dull  heavy 
sound. 

Tili't,  to  it. 

Timmer,  timber. 

Timnier-propt,  propped 
with  timber. 

Tine,  to  lose  ;  tint,  lost. 

Tinkler,  a  tinker. 

Tint  tile  gate,  lost  the  way. 

Tip,  a  ram. 

Tippence,  two-pence. 

Tirl,  to  make  a  slight 
noise,  to  uncover. 

Tirlin',  uncovering. 

Tiiher,  the  other. 

Tittle,  to  whisper. 

Tittlin,  whispering. 

Tocher,  marriage  portion. 

Tod,  a  fox. 

Toddle,  to  totter  like  the 
walk  of  a  child. 

foddlin',  tottering. 

Toom,  empty. 

Toop,  a  ram. 

Toun,  a  hamlet,  a  farm- 
house. 

Tout,  the  blast  of  a  horn 
or  trumpet,  to  blow  a 
horn,  &c. 

Tow,  a  rope. 

Towmond,  a  twelvemonth. 

Towzie,  rough,  shaggy. 

Toy,  a  very  old  fashion  of 
female  head-dress. 

Toyte,  to  totter  like  old 
age. 


Traiisnio^rify'd,  traii.'«ini- 
gratcd,  metamorphosed. 

Trashtrie,  trash. 

Trews,  trousers. 

Trickle,  full  of  tricks. 

Trig,  spruce,  neat. 

Trimly,  excellently. 

Trow,  to  believe. 

Trowtli,  trutii,  a  petty  oath 

Trysted,  aj)pointed  ;  to 
tryste,  to  make  an  ap- 
pointment. 

Try't,  tried. 

Tug,  raw  hide,  of  which, 
in  old  times,  plomrli- 
traces  were  frequently 
made. 

Tulzie,  a  quarrel ;  to  quar- 
rel, to  fight. 

Twa,  two. 

Twa-tliree,  a  few. 

'Twad,  it  would. 

Twa,  twelve;  twal-peimie 
worth,  a  small  quantity, 
one  English  pennyworth 

Twin,  to  part. 

Tyke,  a  dog. 

U. 

UNCO,  strange,  nncouHi, 
very,  very  great,  prodi- 
gious. 

Uncos,  news. 

Unfauld,  unfold. 

Unkenn'd,  unknowri, 

Unsicker,  unsure. 

Unskaith'd,  undunaged. 

Uuweeting,  unknowingly. 


3(30 


GLOS.SAilY 


Upo',  upon. 
Urchin,  a  hedgehog. 

V. 

VAP'RING,  vapouring, 
bullying,  bragging. 

Vauntie,  vain,  proud. 

Vera,  very. 

Virl,  a  ring  round  a  co- 
lumn, &c. 

W. 

WA',  wall. 

Wa's,  walls. 

Wabster,  a  weaver. 

Wad,  would,  to  bet,  a  bet, 
to  pledge. 

Wadna,  would  not. 

Wae,  woe,  sorrowi'ul. 

Waesucks!  or  waes  nie! 
alas  !  O  the  pity. 

Waft,  the  cross  thread  that 
goes  from  the  shuttle 
through  the  web ;  woof. 

Waifu,'  wailing. 

Wair,  to  lay  out,  to  ex- 
pend. 

Wale,  choice,  to  choose. 

Wal'd,  chose,  chosen. 

Walie,  ample,  large,  jolly  : 
also  an  interjection  of 
distress. 

Wame,  the  belly. 

Wamefu',  a  belly  full. 

Wanchansie,  unlucky. 

Wanrestfu',  restless. 

Wark,  work. 

Warle,  or  warld,  world 


Wark-lume,  a  tool  to  work 

with. 
Warlock,  a  wizard. 
Warly,  worldly,  eager  on 

amassing  wealth. 
Warran',    a  warrant,  to 

warrant. 
Warst,  worst. 
Warstl'd,      or       warsl'd, 

wrestled. 
Wastrie,  prodigality. 
Wat,  wet ;  I  wat, '  I  wot, 

I  know. 
Water-brose,  brose  made 

of  oatmeal  and  water. 
Wattle,  a  twig,  a  wand. 
Wauble,  to  swing,  to  reel. 
Waught,  draught. 
Waukit,  thickened  as  ful- 
lers do  cloth. 
Waukrife,  not  apt  to  sleep. 
Waur,  worse,  to  worst. 
Waur't,  worsted. 
Wean,  or  weanie,  a  child. 
Wearie,  or  weary  ;  inoiiie 

a  wearie  body,  many  a 

different  person. 
Weason,  weasand. 
Weaving    the     stocking. 

See  throwing  the  stock- 
ing, page  363. 
Wee,  little ;   wee   things, 

little  ones ;   wee   bit,   a 

small  matter. 
Weel,  well. 
Weelfare,  welfare. 
Weet,  rain,  wetness. 
Weird,  fate. 


QLOSSAllV 


rA\7 


^^'c'su,  We  siiuii. 

VViui,  wlio. 
Whaizle,  to  wheeze. 
Whalpit,  whelped. 
Whang,  a  leatlieni  string, 

a  piece  of  cheese,  bread, 

&c. ;  to  give  the  strap- 
pado. 
Whare,  where ;  whare'er, 

wherever. 
Whase,  whose. 
VVhatreck,  nevertheless. 
Whaup,  the  curlew ;  a  kind 

of  water- fowl. 
Wheep,  to  fly  nimbly,  to 

jerk ;         penny-whue]), 

small-beer. 
Whid,    the    motion   of   a 

hare,    running   but  not 

friglited,  a  lie. 
Whiddiu',    running   as   a 

hare  or  coney. 
Whigraeleeries,       whims, 

fancies,  crotchets. 
Whingin',    crying,    com 

plaining,  fretting. 
Whirligigunis,  useless  or 

naments. 
Whirrin',    whirring ;     the 

sound  made  by  tiie  flight 

of  the  partridge,  Sec. 
Whisht,  silence. 
Whisk,  to  sweep,  to  lasl 
Whiskit,  lashed. 
Whissle,    a    whistle ;    to 

whistle. 
Whitter,  a  hearty  draught 

of  liquor. 


WiiuusUuR',  u  wiiiiistone. 

Whyles,  sometimes. 

Wi'  with. 

Wick,  to  strike  a  stone  in 
an  oblique  direction ;  a 
term  in  curling. 

Wicker,  willow,  (the 
smaller  sort). 

Widdi(!ful,wratiirul,angry, 
raging  ;  one  deserving 
the  gallows. 

Wiel,  a  small  whirlpool. 

Witie,  a  dim  in.  or  endear- 
ing term  for  wife. 

Willyart,  bushful,reserve(l, 
timid. 

Wimple,  to  meander. 

Win',  to  wind,  to  wiimow. 

Win't,  winded,  as  a  bobbin 
of  yarn, 

Win'  wind  ;  win's,  winds. 

Winna,  will  not. 

Winnock,  a  window. 

Winsome,  hearty  ,vaimtcd , 
gay. 

Wintie,  a  staggering  mo- 
tion ;  to  stagger,  to  reel. 

Winze,  an  oath. 

Wiss,  to  wish  ;  to  liave  a 
strong  desire. 

Withoutten,  witliout. 

Witless,  simple,  easily 
imposeil  on. 

Wizen'd,  dried,  shrunk. 

Wonner,  a  wonder,  a  con- 
temptuous appellation. 

Wons,  dwells. 

Woo',  wool. 


36S 


GLOSSARY. 


Woo,   to  court,   to  makelWyte,  blamo,  to  blame, 
love  to.  I 

"VVoodie,  a  rope,  more  pro- 1  Y. 

perly  one  made  of  witlis  YE ;  this  pronoun  is  fre- 
er willows.  !    quently  used  for  tliou. 

Wooer-bab,  the  garteriYear,  is  used  both  for  sin- 
knotted  below  the  kneei  gnlar  and  plural,  years, 
with  a  couple  of  loops,  i  Yearlings,  born  in  the  same 

Wordy,  worthy.  I     year,  coevals. 

Worset,  worsted.  lYearns,  longs  much. 

Wew,  an  exclamation  oflYell,  barren,  that  gives  no 
pleasure  or  wonder.         j    milk. 

Wrack,  to  teaze,  to  vex.     Yerk,  to  lash,  to  jerk. 

Wraith,  a  spirit,  a  ghost  ;!Yerkit,  jerked,  lashed. 


an  apparition  exacth 
like  a  living  person 
whose  appearance  is 
said  to  forbode  tlie  per- 
son's approaching  death, 

Wrang,  wrong,  to  wrong. 

Wroath,  drifted  snow. 

Writers,    attorneys 
vers. 


Yestreen,  yesternight,  the 
night  before. 

Yett,  a  gate,  such  as  is 
usually  at  the  entrance 
into  a  farm-yard  or  field. 

Yill,  ale. 

lYird,  earth. 
law-lYokin,  yoking,  about. 

Yont,  beyond. 


Wud,  mad,  distracted.       lYoursel',  yourself. 
Wumble,  a  wimble.  lYowe,  an  ewe. 

Wyle,  beauile.  JYowie,  dirain.  of  ewe. 

Wyliecoat,  a  flannel  vest.' Yule,  Christmas. 


milnj:k  and  sowekbv,  i'rintkrs,  Halifax. 


Rums    - 

185E 
HIS 

The  poetical 
works   of  Robe^rt 

Burns. 

TO  BI 

m:6:.i3m!n 

MINIATURE  (tOIIECTIC'N. 

MiN. 

PR 

4300 
1852 
ELS 


This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last 
date  stamped  below 

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