EDINBURGH ILLUSTRATED EDITION OF THE
POEMS AND SONGS OF ROBERT BURNS
COMPLETE CHRONOLOGICALLY ARRANGED
NOTES, GLOSSARIES, AND INDEX BY W. SCOTT
DOUGLAS AND LIFE BY PROFESSOR NICHOL
WITH TWELVE PHOTOGRAVURES AFTER
DRAWINGS BY MARSHALL BROWN IN
FOUR VOLUMES
ROBERT
BURNS
POEMS AND
SONGS COMPLETE
VOLUME
THIRD
PUBLISHED BY
JAMES THIN w
EDINBURGH 1896
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
YE SEE YON BlRKIE CA 5 ED A LORD
THE LEA RIG
THE BRAW WOOER
Frontispiece
Face page 57
200
CONTENTS OF VOLUME THIRD.
(An asterisk is prefixed to those pieces that, either wholly or in part, are
here first embraced in a popular edition of the author's works.)
A.D. 1791.
PAGE
INTRODUCTORY NOTE .... i
*On Glenriddell's Fox breaking his chain : A Fragment 2
Caledonia A Ballad .... 4
Poem and Pastoral Poetry .... 6
Verses on the destruction of the Woods near Drum-
lanrig ...... 8
Song The Gallant Weaver ... 10
Epigram at Brownhill Inn ... 10
Song You're welcome, Willie Stewart . . 1 1
Song Lovely Polly Stewart . . . 1 1
Song Fragment Damon and Sylvia . . 12
Song Fragment Johnie lad, Cock up your Beaver 12
Song My Eppie Macnab , . . . 13
Song Fragment Altho' he has left me , . 14
Song My Tocher's the Jewel ... 14
Song O for ane an' twenty, Tarn . . . 15
Song Thou Fair Eliza . . . . 16
Song My Bonie Bell . . , . 17
Song Sweet Afton . . . , 17
Address to the shade of Thomson . , . 19
Song Nithdale's Welcome Hame . . 20
Song Frae the friends and land I love . , 20
Song Such a parcel of Rogues in a Nation , 21
Song Ye Jacobites by Name ... 22
Song I hae been at Crookieden ... 23
Song Kenmure's on and awa, Willie . . 24
Epistle to John Maxwell, Esq., of Terraughty . 25
Second Epistle to Robert Graham, Esq., of Fintry 26
III. b
vi Contents.
FAGH
The Song of Death . 29
Poem on Sensibility . . 30
Epigram The Toadeater . 31
Epigram Divine Service at Lamington , 31
Epigram The Keekin Glass 32
A Grace before Dinner .... 32
A Grace after Dinner . 32
THE DUMFRIES PERIOD, Nov. 1791 to July 1796.
Song The Dearest o' the Quorum . . 34
Parting Song to Clarinda " Ae fond Kiss " . 35
Song Behold the Hour, the Boat arrive . , 36
Song Thou Gloomy December . , 37
Song My Native Land sae far awa , , 37
1792.
Lines on Fergusson, the Poet . 3$
gong I do confess thou art sae fair 38
Song The weary Pund o' Tow , . 39
Song When she cam ben she bobbel . 41
Song Scroggam, my dearie . , . 4 1
Song My Collier Laddie . 42
Song Sic a wife as Willie had . . 43
Song Lady Mary Ann .... 45
Song Kellyburn Braes . . > 46
Song The Slave's Lament ... 48
Song O can ye Labor Lea ? . , . 49
Song The Deuk's dang o'er my daddie . . 49
Song The Deil's awa wi' the Exciseman . . 5
Song The Country Lass . 5 2
Song Bessy and her Spinnin Wheel , . 53
Song Fragment No cold approach . , 54
Song Fragment Love for love . . . 55
Fragment on Maria . . . i 55
Song Saw ye Bonie Lesley . . . 56
Song I'll meet thee on the Lea Rig . . 57
Song My Wife's a winsome wee thing , . 58
Contents. vii
PAGE
Song Highland Mary .... 59
The Rights of Women Spoken by Miss Fontenelle 60
Epigram on Miss Fontenelle . . . 61
Extempore on some commemorations of Thomson . 62
Song Auld Rob Morris .... 63
Song Duncan Gray . . . 63
Song A Health to them that's awa . . 65
*A Tippling Ballad When Princes and Prelates, &c. 67
1793-
Epigram on Politics . . : . 68
Song Poortith cauld and restless love . . 69
Song Braw Lads o' Gala Water ... 70
Sonnet on the Author's Birthday ... 72
Lord Gregory, a Ballad .... 73
Song Wandering Willie .... 74
Song Wandering Willie Revised Version . 76
Song Open the door to me, oh . . 76
Song Lovely young Jessie .... 77
gong Meg o' the Mill . 78
Song Meg o' the Mill Another Version . . 79
The Soldier's Return : A Ballad ... 80
Epigram The True Loyal Natives . . 82
Epigram Commissary Goldie's Brains . . 82
Lines Inscribed in a Lady's Pocket Almanack , 83
Epigram Thanks for a national victory . . 83
Commemoration of Rodney's Victory . , 83
Epigram Kirk and State Excisemen . . 84
Epigram The Raptures of Folly ... 84
Extempore reply to an Invitation . . 84
A Grace after Meat .... 84
Grace before and after Meat . , . 85
Impromptu on Dumourier's Desertion of the French
Republican Army .... 85
Song The last time I cam o'er the Moor . . 85
Song Blythe liae I been on yon hill , . !'>7
Song Logan Braes .... 88
Song O were my love yon lilac fair . , 89
viii Contents.
PAGE
Bonie Jean : A Ballad . 9
Lines on John M'Murdo, Esq. . . . 92
Epitaph on a Lap-dog .... 92
Epigrams against the Earl of Galloway , 93
Epigram on the Laird of Laggan ... 94
Song Phillis the Fair .... 94
Song Had I a cave . 95
Song By Allan Stream .... 96
Song Whistle and I'll come to you , 97
Song Phillis the Queen o' the fair ... 98
Song Come let me take thee to my breast 99
Song Dainty Davie .... loo
Robert Bruce's March to Bannockburn . . 101
"Scots wha hae, &c. First Sketch ... 103
Song Behold the hour, &c. Second Version , 104
Song Down the Burn, Davie love . . . 104
Song Thou hast left me ever, Jamie . . 105
Song Where are the Joys I hae met . . 106
Song Deluded swain, the pleasure . . 107
Song Thine am I, my faithful Fair . . 108
Impromptu on Mrs Ricldell's Birthday . , 1 08
Song My Spouse Nancy . . . , 109
Address spoken by Miss Fontenelle . . no
Complimentary Epigram to Mrs Riddell . . 112
1794-
Remorseful Apology . , , . 113
Song Wilt thou be my Dearie . , . 114
Song A Fiddler in the North . . . 115
The Minstrel at Lincluden . . . 115
A Vision ...... 117
Song A red, red Rose . . . . 119
Song Resistless King of Love . . . 119
Song The Flowery banks of Cree . . 120
Monody on a Lady, famed for her Caprice . , 121
Epitaph on the same . . . . 122
Epigram pinned to Mrs Riddell's carriage . , 122
Contents. ix
FAG a.
Epitaph for Mr Walter Riddell . ,122
Epistle from Esopus to Maria . , ; 123
Epitaph on a noted Coxcomb . 126
"Epitaph on Captain Lascelles . . . 126
Epitaph on Wm. Graham, Esq., of Mossknowe . 126
Epitaph on John Busby, Esq., Tin wall Downs . 127
Sonnet on the Death of Robert Riddell . . 127
Song The Lovely Lass o' Inverness . , 128
Song Charlie he's my Darling . . . 128
Song The Bannocks o' Bear Meal . . 129
Song The Highland Balou . , . 130
The Highland Widow's Lament . . . 130
Song It was a' for our rightfu' King . % 131
Ode for General Washington's Birthday . . 133
Inscription to Miss Graham of Fintry . . 135
Song On the Seas and far away . . , 136
Song Ca' the Yowes to the Knowes . . 138
Song She says she loes me best of a' . . 139
Epigram on Jessy Staig's recovery . . . 141
*To the beautiful Miss Eliza J n, on her prin-
ciples of Liberty and Equality ... 141
*On Chloris requesting a sprig of blossom 'd thorn . 141
On seeing Mrs Kemble in Yarico . . . 142
Epigram on a country Laird, (Cardoness) . . 142
* Epigram on the same Laird's Country Seat . . 143
Epigram on Dr Babington's looks . . . 143
Epigram on a Suicide . . . , 143
Epigram on a Swearing Coxcomb . . , 144
Epigram on an Innkeeper, (" The Marquis ") . 144
Epigram on Andrew Turner . . . 144
Song Pretty Peg, my dearie ... 144
Esteem for Chloris ..... 145
Song Saw you my dear, my Philly . . 145
Song How lang and dreary is the night . , 146
Song Inconstancy in love .... 147
The Lover's Morning Salute to his Mistress , 148
Song The Winter of Life . . , . 149
Song Behold my love, how green the groves . 150
K Contents.
PAGE
Song The charming month of May , . 152
Song Lassie wi' the Lint- white Locks . , 153
Dialogue Song Philly and Willy . . . 154
Song Contented wi' little, and cantie wi' mair . 156
Song Farewell thou stream that winding flows . 157
Song Canst thou leave me thus, my Katie 158
Song My Name's awa . . . , 159
Song The Tear-drop" Wae is my heart " . 160
Song For the sake o' Somebody . . . 161
1795-
Song A Man's a man for a' that . . , 161
Song Craigieburn Wood Second Version , 163
The Solemn league and covenant . . . 164
Lines to John Syme, Esq., with a dozen of porter . 165
Inscription on Mr Syme's crystal goblet . . 165
Apology to Mr Syme for not dining with him , 165
Epitaph for Mr Gabriel Richardson, Brewer . 166
Epigram on Mr James Gracie . . . 167
Inscription at Friars Carse Hermitage . . 167
Song Bonie Peg-a- Ramsay . . , 167
Song Fragment Over Sea, over Shore , , 168
Song Fragment Wee Willie Gray . . 168
Song O ay my wife she dang me . . , 169
Song Gude ale keeps the heart aboon , , 170
Song Steer her up and baud her gaun , . 170
Song The Lass o' Ecclefechan . . . 171
Song O Let me in this ae night , . . 1 72
Song I'll ay ca' in by yon town . , 173
Song O wat ye wha's in yon town . , , 175
Ballad on Mr Heron's Election No. I , , 177
Ballad on Mr Heron's Election No. 2 . 179
Ballad on Mr Heron's Election No. 3 , 183
Inscription for an altar of Independence . 186
Song The Cardin o't, the Spinnin o't . , 186
Song The Cooper o' Cuddy . . . 187
Song The lass that made the bed to me . , 188
Contents. xi
PAGE
Song Had I the wyte, she bade me , , 190
Song The Dumfries Volunteers , , , 191
Song Address to the Woodlark , . 193
Song On Chloris being ill . . . , 194
Song How cruel are the parents . , 195
Song Yonder pomp of costly fashion , . 196
'Twas na her bonie blue e'e . . . 197
Song Their groves o' sweet myrtle . . 198
Song Forlorn, my love, no comfort here . . 198
Song Fragment Why tell the lover . . 200
Song The Braw Wooer .... 200
Song This is no my ain lassie . . . 202
Song O bonie was yon rosy Brier . . . 203
Song Now Spring has clad the grove in green . 204
Song O that's the lassie o' my heart . . 205
Inscription to Chloris .... 207
Song Fragment Leezie Lindsay . , 208
Song Fragment The Wren's Nest . . 209
Song News, lassies, news . . . . 210
Song Crowdie ever mair . . . . 211
Song Mally's meek, Mally's sweet . 212
Song Jockie's taen a parting Kiss . , . 213
Verses to Collector Mitchell . . * 214
1796.
The Dean of Faculty A new Ballad . . 215
Epistle to Colonel de Peyster . . 217
Song A lass wi' a tocher . . . . 219
Ballad on Mr Heron's Election No. 4 . 219
Complimentary versicles to Jessie Lewars . . 221
No. I. The Toast .... 221
,, 2. The Menagerie .... 222
,, 3. Jessie's Illness .... 222
,, 4. On her Recovery . . . 222
Song O lay thy loof in mine, lass . . . 223
Song A Health to ane I loe dear . . . 223
xii Contents.
PACK
Song O wert thou in the cauld blast i i 224
Inscription to Jessie Lewars . , 225
Song Fairest Maid on Devon : s Banks , , 226
GLOSSARY .... 229
INDEX OF FIRST LINES FOR VOLS. I , II.. III. . 253
POEMS AND SONGS.
INTRODUCTORY NOTE.
THE close of Volume Second, fragrant with the perfume of wild flowers
gathered by our Author in his charming " Posie," has brought the reader
forward to the spring or early summer of 1791. The poet is still at Ellis-
land, but the last of his cereal harvests there will soon be reaped. No more
is he to drudge at barn or byre ; for the soil of the South has proved to him
as ungrateful as the soil of the West. " If once I was clear of this farm, I
should respire more at ease. It has undone my enjoyment of myself."
Such were his observations a year and more prior to this period ; and after
some further practical experience of the everlasting truth, " A man cannot
serve two masters," he resolved to untie the couplings which fettered him
to the soil, that he might the more resolutely seek advancement in his new
calling. Dr Currie has pictured the "high-minded poet pursuing the
defaulters of the Revenue among the hills and vales of Nithsdale, his rov-
ing eye wandering over the charms of Nature, and ' muttering his wayward
fancies' as he moved along." But "riding two hundred miles every week
through ten moorland parishes" was rough work, and he longed to have
his Excise district changed for that of a seaport town, where the field of his
labours would be less expanded, and perhaps more agreeable, and more
remunerative.
In this closing Volume of the poetical works of Burns, the poems, strictly
so called, must be few and far between, and these comparatively short and
unimportant. That want, however, is fully compensated by a copious flow
of undying song, which he continued to give forth during the remaining five
years of his life ; and not even on his death-bed was his harp silent, some of
its sweetest notes being then emitted. Near the close of 1791 he removed
to Dumfries, where the efforts of his muse were chiefly directed to the self-
imposed labour of supplying songs for Johnson's fourth volume, which
appeared in August 1792. Shortly after that date, the correspondence with
George Thomson commenced, and to him he furnished upwards of sixty
songs, besides supplying Johnson with other lyrics that were published
ter the poet's death in the fifth and sixth volumes of the Musical
III. A
Poems and Songs. [ 1 79 l
ON GLENRIDDELL'S FOX BREAKING HIS
CHAIN.
A FRAGMENT, 1 79 1.
THOU, Liberty, thou art my theme ;
Not such as idle poets dream,
Who trick thee up a heathen goddess
That a fantastic cap and rod has ;
Such stale conceits are poor and silly ;
I paint thee out, a Highland filly,
A sturdy, stubborn, handsome dapple,
As sleek's a mouse, as round's an apple,
That when thou pleasest can do wonders ;
But when thy luckless rider blunders,
Or if thy fancy should demur there,
Wilt break thy neck ere thou go further.
These things premised, I sing a Fox
Was caught among his native rocks,
And to a dirty kennel chained,
How he his liberty regained.
Glenriddell ! a Whig without a stain,
A Whig in principle and grain,
Could'st thou enslave a free-born creature,
A native denizen of Nature ?
How could'st thou, with a heart so good,
(A better ne'er was sluiced with blood)
Nail a poor devil to a tree,
That ne'er did harm to thine or thee ?
The staunchest Whig Glenriddell was,
Quite frantic in his country's cause ;
And oft was Reynard's prison passing,
And with his brother- Whigs canvassing
33'] Poems and Songs.
The Rights of Men, the Powers of Women,
With all the dignity of Freemen.
Sir Reynard daily heard debates
Of Princes', Kings', and Nations' fates,
With many rueful, bloody stories
Of Tyrants, Jacobites, and Tories :
From liberty how angels fell,
That now are galley-slaves in hell ;
How Nimrod first the trade began
Of binding Slavery's chains on Man ;
How fell Semiramis G d d-mn her !
Did first, with sacrilegious hammer,
(All ills till then were trivial matters)
For Man dethron'd forge hen-peck fetters ;
How Xerxes, that abandoned Tory,
Thought cutting throats was reaping glory,
Until the stubborn Whigs of Sparta
Taught him great Nature's Magna Charta ;
How mighty Rome her fiat hurl'd
Resistless o'er a bowing world,
And, kinder than they did desire,
Polish'd mankind with sword and fire :
With much, too tedious to relate,
Of ancient and of modern date,
But ending still, how Billy Pitt
(Unlucky boy !) with wicked wit,
Has gagg'd old Britain, drain'd her coffer.
As butchers bind and bleed a heifer.
Thus wily Reynard, by degrees,
In kennel listening at his ease,
Suck'd in a mighty stock of knowledge,
As much as some folks at a College ;
Knew Britain's rights and constitution,
Her aggrandisement, diminution,
Poem s and Songs. [ 1 79 J
How fortune wrought us good from evil ;
Let no man, then, despise the Devil,
As who should say, ' I ne'er can need him,'
Since we to scoundrels owe our freedom.
* * * *
CALEDONIAA BALLAD.
Tune" Caledonian Hunts' Delight" of Mr Gow.
THERE was once a time, but old Time was then young,
That brave Caledonia, the chief of her line,
From some of your northern deities sprung,
(Who knows not that brave Caledonia's divine ?)
From Tweed to the Orcades was her domain,
To hunt, or to pasture, or do what she would :
Her heav'nly relations there fixed her reign,
And pledg'd her their godheads to warrant it good.
A lambkin in peace, but a lion in war,
The pride of her kindred, the heroine grew :
Her grandsire, old Odin, triumphantly swore,
"Whoe'er shall provoke thee, th' encounter shall rue !'
With tillage or pasture at times she would sport,
To feed her fair flocks by her green rustling corn ;
But chiefly the woods were her fav'rite resort,
Her darling amusement, the hounds and the horn.
Long quiet she reigned ; till thitherward steers
A flight of bold eagles from Adria's strand : l
Repeated, successive, for many long years,
They darken'd the air, and they plunder'd the land :
Their pounces were murder, and terror their cry,
They'd conquer'd and ruin'd a world beside ;
She took to her hills, and her arrows let fly,
The daring invaders, they fled or they died.
1 The Romans.
/ET. 33.] Poems and Songs.
The Cameleon-Savage disturb'd her repose,
With tumult, disquiet, rebellion, and strife ;
Provok'd beyond bearing, at last she arose,
And robb'd him at once of his hopes and his life : l
The Anglian lion, the terror of France,
Oft prowling, ensanguin'd the Tweed's silver flood ;
But, taught by the bright Caledonian lance,
He learned to fear in his own native wood.
The fell Harpy -raven took wing from the north,
The scourge of the seas, and the dread of the shore ; 2
The wild Scandinavian boar issued forth
To wanton in carnage and wallow in gore : 3
O'er countries and kingdoms their fury prevail'd,
No arts could appease them, no arms could repel ;
But brave Caledonia in vain they assail'd,
As Largs well can witness, and Loncartie tell. 4
Thus bold, independent, unconquer'd, and free,
Her bright course of glory for ever shall run :
For brave Caledonia immortal must be ;
I'll prove it from Euclid as clear as the sun :
Rectangle-triangle, the figure we'll chuse :
The upright is Chance, and old Time is the base ;
But brave Caledonia's the hypothenuse ;
Then, ergo, she'll match them, and match them always. 6
[The poet directs this song to be united with Gow's set of the " Caledonian
Hunts' Delight," and hopes the words will be found to " suit the excellent
air they arc designed for."]
1 The Picts. 2 The Saxons. * The Danes.
* Two famous battles in which the Scandinavians were defeated.
6 This singular figure of poetry, taken from the mathematics, refers to
the famous proposition of Pythagoras, the 47th of Euclid. In a right-
angled triangle, the square of the hypothenuse is always equal to the
squares of the two other sides. Currie.
Poems and Songs, [i733-
POEM ON PASTORAL POETRY.
HAIL, Poesie ! thou Nymph reserv'd !
In chase o' thee, what crowds hae swerv'd
Frae common sense, or sunk enerv'd
'Mang heaps o' clavers : *
And och ! o'er aft thy joes hae starv'd,
'Mid a' thy favors !
Say, Lassie, why thy train amang,
While loud the trump's heroic clang,
And sock or buskin skelp t alang
To death or marriage ;
Scarce ane has tried the shepherd-sang
But wi' miscarriage ?
In Homer's craft Jock Milton thrives ;
Eschylus' pen Will Shakespeare drives ;
Wee Pope, the knurlin, J till him rives
Horatian fame ;
In thy sweet sang, Barbauld, survives
Even Sappho's flame.
But thee, Theocritus, wha matches ?
They're no herd's ballats, Maro's catches ;
Squire Pope but busks his skinklin patches
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
* gossip. t move quickly- } of stunted growth.
wishy-washy. || learning.
33-] Poems and Songs.
Blaw sweetly in its native air,
And rural grace ;
And, wi' the far-fam'd Grecian, share
A rival place ?
Yes ! there is ane ; a Scottish callan!*
There's ane ; come forrit,t honest Allan !
Thou need na jouk \ behint the hallan,
A chiel sae clever ;
The teeth o' time may gnaw Tantallan, 1
But thou's for ever.
Thou paints auld Nature to the nines, |{
In thy sweet Caledonian lines ;
Nae gowden stream thro' myrtles twines,
Where Philomel,
While nightly breezes sweep the vines,
Her griefs will tell !
In gowany glens thy burnie strays,
Where bonie lasses bleach their claes,
Or trots by hazelly shaws H and braes,
Wi' hawthorns gray,
Where blackbirds join the shepherd's lays,
At close o' day.
Thy rural loves are Nature's seP ;
Nae bombast spates** o' nonsense swell ;
Nae snap ft conceits, but that sweet spell
O' witchin love,
That charm that can the strongest quell,
The sternest move.
* youth. t forward. t hide. outside porch.
H perfection. H low woods- ** floods. ft smart.
A strong fortress on a high sea-rock in East Lothian.
8 Poems and Songs. [i 79 1.
[The authorship of this poem is involved in some uncertainty. It was
found in the hand-writing of Burns after his decease, and printed by Dr
Currie without remark.
The language and concentrated force of some of the lines in this poem
are quite in Burns' s manner ; yet we feel constrained to observe that in his
earlier epistles he never loses an opportunity, while naming Ramsay and
Fergusson together, of shewing a preference to the latter ; but in this poem,
Fergusson's name is not even hinted at. This fact gives rise to a suspicion
that the poem, if not by Fergusson himself, was composed prior to the era
of that poet ; and we conceive that Wm. Hamilton of Gilbertfield, who
addressed several complimentary Epistles to Ramsay, might have been the
author of this poem.]
VERSES ON THE DESTRUCTION OF THE
WOODS NEAR DRUMLANRIG.
As on the banks of winding Nith,
Ae smiling simmer morn I stray'd,
And traced its bonie holms and haughs,
Where linties sang and lammies play'd,
I sat me down upon a craig,
And drank my fill o' fancy's dream,
When from the eddying deep below,
Up rose the genius of the stream.
Dark, like the frowning rock, his brow,
And troubled, like his wintry wave,
And deep, as sughs the boding wind
Amang his caves, the sigh he gave
" And come ye here, my son," he cried,
" To wander in my birken shade ?
To muse some favourite Scottish theme,
Or sing some favourite Scottish maid ?
" There was a time, it's nae lang syne,
Ye might hae seen me in my pride,
When a' my banks sae bravely saw
Their woody pictures in my tide ;
&f. 33-] Poems and Songs. S
When hanging beech and spreading elm
Shaded my stream sae clear and cool :
And stately oaks their twisted arms
Threw broad and dark across the pool ;
" When, glinting thro' the trees, appeared
The wee white cot aboon the mill,
And peacefu' rose its ingle reek,
That, slowly curling, clamb the hill.
But now the cot is bare and cauld,
Its leafy bield for ever gane,
And scarce a stinted birk is left
To shiver in the blast its lane."
" Alas ! " quoth I, " what ruefu' chance
Has twin'd ye o' your stately trees ?
Has laid your rocky bosom bare
Has stripped the deeding afT your braes ?
Was it the bitter eastern blast,
That scatters blight in early spring ?
Or was J t the wil'fire scorch'd their boughs,
Or canker-worm wi' secret sting ? "
" Nae eastlin blast," the sprite replied ;
" It blaws na here sae fierce and fell,
And on my dry and halesome banks
Nae canker-worms get leave to dwell :
Man ! cruel man ! " the genius sighed
As through the cliffs he sank him down
" The worm that gnaw'd my bonie trees,
That reptile wears a Ducal crown."
[The Duke of Queensberry's object in felling the trees on his beautiful
estates for the woods around Neidpath in Peeblesshire shared the same
fate was to raise money to provide a princely dowry for the Countess of
Yarmouth, his supposed natural daughter.]
io Poems and Songs. [ I 79 I -
THE GALLANT WEAVER.
WHERE Cart rins rowin to the sea,
By mony a flower and spreading tree,
There lives a lad, the lad for me,
He is a gallant Weaver.
O I had wooers aught or nine,
They gied me rings and ribbons fine ;
And I was feaiM my heart wad tine,*
And I gied it to the Weaver.
My daddie sign'd my tocher-band,t
To gie the lad that has the land,
But to my heart I'll add my hand, 1
And give it to the Weaver.
While birds rejoice in leafy bowers,
While bees delight in opening flowers,
While corn grows green in summer showers,
I love my gallant Weaver.
[The poet may have composed this song as a humorous reference to a
portion of Jean Armour's history in 1786, when she was sent to Paisley to
keep her out of his way.]
EPIGRAM AT BROWNHILL INN.
AT Brownhill we always get dainty good cheer,
And plenty of bacon each day in the year ;
We've a' thing that's nice, and mostly in season,
But why always Bacon come tell me the reason ?
[This Inn, in the neighbourhood of Thornhill, was a convenient resting-
place for the poet on his homeward journey in some of his Excise rounds.]
* be lost. t marriage settlement.
1 " And in the lustre of her youth, she gave
Her hand, with her heart in it, to Francesco." Roger s Italy.
- 33-1 Poems and Songs. 1 1
YOU'RE WELCOME, WILLIE STEWART.
Chorus. You're welcome, Willie Stewart,
You're welcome, Willie Stewart,
There's ne'er a flower that blooms in May,
That's half sae welcome's thou art !
COME, bumpers high, express your joy,
The bowl we maun renew it,
The tappet hen, gae bring her ben,
To welcome Willie Stewart,
You're welcome, Willie Stewart, &c.
May foes be strang, and friends be slack,
Ilk action, may he rue it,
May woman on him turn her back
That wrangs thee, Willie Stewart !
You're welcome, Willie Stewart, c.
[The original of this little song was inscribed by the poet himself on a
crystal tumbler. The relic was acquired by Sir Walter Scott, and is still
preserved at Abbotsford The subject of the verses was the factor at Close-
burn. He died in 1812.]
LOVELY POLLY STEWART.
Chorus. Q lovely Polly Stewart,
O charming Polly Stewart,
There's ne'er a flower that blooms in May,
That's half so fair as thou art !
THE flower it blaws, it fades, it fa's,
And art can ne'er renew it ;
But worth and truth, eternal youth
Will gie to Polly Stewart,
O lovely Polly Stewart, &c.
1 2 Poems and Songs. [ 1 7 9 1 .
May he whase arms shall fauld thy charms
Possess a leal and true heart !
To him be given to ken the heaven
He grasps in Polly Stewart !
O lovely Polly Stewart, &c.
[The "charming Polly," daughter of the factor at Closeburn, having been
born in 1775, could be only about sixteen years old when she became a
theme for the Muse of Burns. Her after-career in life was not an enviable
one. She married her cousin, by whom she had three sons: he fell into
some scrape which compelled him to abscond, and "Polly" afterwards
contracted a matrimonial alliance with a man named Welsh, but as she did
not live happily with him, a separation soon took place. In 1806, she
resided in Maxwelltown with her father, who was no longer factor at Close-
burn.]
FRAGMENT, DAMON AND SYLVIA.
Tune "The Tither Morn."
YON wandering rill that marks the hill,
And glances o'er the brae, Sir,
Slides by a bower, where mony a flower
Sheds fragrance on the day, Sir ;
There Damon lay with Sylvia gay,
To love they thought no crime, Sir,
The wild birds sang, the echoes rang,
While Damon's heart beat time, Sir.
[These eight lines form the central portion of a completed production of
Burns, entitled an "Ode to Spring," which appears in a letter addressed to
George Thomson, dated early in January 1795 (the last New year season,
save one, which the bard was fated to see). It appears in the same letter
in which he transcribed his world-famous " A man's a man for a" that."]
JOHNIE LAD, COCK UP YOUR BEAVER.
WHEN first my brave Johnie lad came to the town,
He had a blue bonnet that wanted the crown ;
But now he has gotten a hat and a feather,
Hey, brave Johnie lad, cock up your beaver !
MT. 33.] Poems and Songs. 13
Cock up your beaver, and cock it fu' sprush,
We'll over the border, and gie them a brush ;
There's somebody there we'll teach better behaviour,
Hey, brave Johnie lad, cock up your beaver !
[The second stanza only of this little fragment can be considered as the
work of Burns. The original was a London production framed in ridicule
of the Scottish settlers who made their way into England after James VI.
of Scotland succeeded to the throne of Queen Elizabeth.]
MY EPPIE MACNAB.
O SAW ye my dearie, my Eppie Macnab ?
O saw ye my dearie, my Eppie Macnab ?
She's down in the yard, she's kissin the laird,
She winna come hame to her ain Jock Rab.
O come thy ways to me, my Eppie Macnab ;
O come thy ways to me, my Eppie Macnab ;
Whate'er thou hast dune, be it late, be it sune,
Thou's welcome again to thy ain Jock Rab.
What says she, my dearie, my Eppie Macnab ?
What says she, my dearie, my Eppie Macnab ?
She let's thee to wit that she has thee forgot,
And for ever disowns thee, her ain Jock Rab.
O had I ne'er seen thee, my Eppie Macnab !
O had I ne'er seen thee, my Eppie Macnab !
As light as the air, and as fause as thou's fair,
Thou's broken the heart o' thy ain Jock Rab.
[This was composed as a substitute for old words which, the poet tell us,
1 had more wit than decency." 1
14 Poems and Songs. [I79 1
ALTHO' HE HAS LEFT ME.
ALTHO' he has left me for greed o' the siller,
I dinna envy him the gains he can win ;
I rather wad bear a' the lade o' my sorrow,
Than ever hae acted sae faithless to him.
[These four lines by Burns were added in the process of retouching an old
song for Johnson which first appeared in Herd's Collection, entitled, " I'll
never lay a' my love upon ane."]
MY TOCHER'S THE JEWEL.
O MEIKLE thinks my luve o' my beauty,
And meikle thinks my luve o' my kin ;
But little thinks my luve I ken brawlie
My tocher's the jewel has charms for him.
It's a' for the apple he'll nourish the tree,
It's a' for the hiney he'll cherish the bee,
My laddie's sae meikle in luve wi' the siller,
He canna hae luve to spare for me.
Your proffer o' luve's an airle-penny,
My tocher's the bargain ye wad buy ;
But an ye be crafty, I am cunnin,
Sae ye wi' anither your fortune may try.
Ye're like to the timmer o' yon rotten wood,
Ye're like to the bark o' yon rotten tree,
Ye'll slip frae me like a knotless thread,
And ye'll crack your credit wi' mair nor me.
[The four closing lines and also the fifth and sixth lines of the first stanza
of this song are old ; the remainder is the poet's own. In 1787 he included
the old fragment among several others, chiefly of the ballad kind, which he
transcribed for Mr Wm. Tytler of Woodhouselee, as "samples of the old
pieces that are still to be found among our peasantry in the West."]
. 33.] Poems and Songs. 15
O FOR ANE AN' TWENTY, TAM.
Chorus. An' O for ane an' twenty, Tarn !
And hey, sweet ane an' twenty, Tain !
I'll learn my kin a rattlin sang,
An' I saw ane an' twenty, Tarn.
THEY snool * me sair, and baud t me down,
An' gar J me look like bluntie, Tarn ;
But three short years will soon wheel roun',
An' then comes ane an' twenty, Tarn.
An' O for, &c.
A glieb || o' Ian', a claut "IT o' gear,
Was left me by my Auntie, Tarn j
At kith or kin I need na spier,**
An' I saw ane an' twenty, Tarn,
An' O for, &c.
They'll hae me wed a wealthy coof,tt
Tho' I myseP hae plenty, Tarn ;
But, hear'st thou laddie ! there's my loof,|.J
I'm thine at ane an' twenty, Tarn.
An' O for, &c.
[Here the playful comic genius of Burns is most happily displayed. The
song speaks to the heart of man and woman of every tongue and kindred.
A maiden of eighteen has a handsome tocher waiting for her when she shall
reach her majority : a wealthy suitor asks her hand; but she reserves that
for the lad who has already secured her heart, and the avaricious "coof "
is rejected.
" I'd rather take Tarn, wi 1 his staff in his hand,
Before I'd hae Sandy wi' houses and land."]
* snub, suppress. t hold. t make. a cowed person.
|| a piece of land attached to a mansion. If hoard.
** consult. ft blockhead. U palm of the hand.
Poems and Songs. [I79 1 -
THOU FAIR ELIZA.
TURN again, thou fair Eliza !
Ae kind blink before we part ;
Rew on thy despairing lover,
Can'st thou break his faithfu' heart ?
Turn again, thou fair Eliza !
If to love thy heart denies,
Oh, in pity hide the sentence
Under friendship's kind disguise 1
Thee, sweet maid, hae I offended ?
My offence is loving thee ;
Can'st thou wreck his peace for ever,
Wha for thine would gladly die ?
While the life beats in my bosom,
Thou shalt mix in ilka throe :
Turn again, thou lovely maiden,
Ae sweet smile on me bestow.
Not the bee upon the blossom,
In the pride o' sinny noon ;
Not the little sporting fairy,
All beneath the simmer moon ;
Not the Minstrel, in the moment
Fancy lightens in his e'e,
Kens the pleasure, feels the rapture,
That thy presence gies to me.
[This elegant lyric was composed in fulfilment of a promise made by the
author to Mr James Johnston, the engraver and publisher of the Musical
Museum* In a letter to him, dated isth November 1788, after expressing
himself in a highly complimentary strain regarding that publication, he thus
concludes : " Have you never a fair goddess that leads you a wild-goose
chase of amorous devotion ? Let me know a few of her qualities, such as
whether she be rather black or fair, plump or thin, short or tall, &c. ; and
choose your air, and I shall task my muse to celebrate her."]
33.1 Poems and Songs. 17
MY BONIE BELL.
" In those vernal seasons of the year, when the air is calm and pleasant,
it were an injury and sullenness against Nature not to go out and see her
riches, and partake in her rejoicing with Heaven and Earth."
JOHN MILTON. Letter on Education.
THE smiling Spring comes in rejoicing,
And surly Winter grimly flies ;
Now crystal clear are the falling waters,
And bonie blue are the sunny skies.
Fresh o'er the mountains breaks forth the morning,
The ev'ning gilds the ocean's swell ;
All creatures joy in the sun's returning,
And I rejoice in my Bonie Bell.
The flowery Spring leads sunny Summer,
The yellow Autumn presses near ;
Then in his turn comes gloomy Winter,
Till smiling Spring again appear :
Thus seasons dancing, life advancing,
Old Time and Nature their changes tell ;
But never ranging, still unchanging,
I adore my Bonie Bell.
[No one has ever ventured to suggest the identity of the fair one who in-
spired this exquisite song. In the Museum, it stands on the page opposite
"Afton Water," and it may fairly be assumed that both were composed
about the same period.]
SWEET AFTON.
" I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, that ye stir not, nor awake
my love my dove, my undefined ! The flowers appear on the earth, the
time of the singing of the birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard
in our land."
FLOW gently, sweet Afton ! among thy green braes,
Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise ;
My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream,
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.
III. B
18 Poems and Songs. [I79 1 -
Thou stock dove whose echo resounds thro' the glen,
Ye wild whistling blackbirds, in yon thorny den,
Thou green crested lapwing * thy screaming forbear,
I charge you, disturb not my slumbering Fair.
How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighbouring hills,
Far mark'd with the courses of clear, winding rills ;
There daily I wander as noon rises high,
My flocks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eye.
How pleasant thy banks and green vallies below,
Where, wild in the woodlands, the primroses blow ;
There oft, as mild Ev'ning weeps over the lea,
The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me.
Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides,
And winds by the cot where my Mary resides ;
How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave,
As, gathering sweet flowerets, she stems thy clear wave.
Flow gently, sweet Afton, amang thy green braes,
Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays ;
My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream,
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.
[A kind of holy calm pervades the soul of the reader who peruses, or the
auditor who listens to the music of this unique strain. The "pastoral
melancholy," which Wordsworth felt at St Mary's Loch, steals over his heart,
and laps him in a dreamy Elysium of sympathetic repose.
What can we say in regard to the heroineship of this pastoral song ? Did
the living Mary Campbell inspire it? Or was it composed in 1791, five
years after her death, in a reverie of retrospective admiration of her sleeping
image enshrined "within his bosom's core"? Did he, in that still valley,
amuse his fond fancy by reflecting what might have been his fate had not
Death seized her as his prey ? And did he there, in imagination only,
". . . . wander as noon rises high,
My flocks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eye"?]
peaseweep or pewit.
JET. 33.] Poems and Songs. 19
ADDRESS TO THE SHADE OF THOMSON,
ON CROWNING HIS BUST AT EDNAM, ROXBURGHSHIRE,
WITH A WREATH OF 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 spikey blade.
While Autumn, benefactor kind,
By Tweed erects his aged head,
And sees, with self-approving mind,
Each creature on his bounty fed.
While maniac Winter rages o'er
The hills whence classic Yarrow flows,
Rousing the turbid torrenf s roar,
Or sweeping, wild, a waste of snows.
So long, sweet Poet of the year !
Shall bloom that wreath thou well hast won ;
While Scotia, with exulting tear,
Proclaims that THOMSON is her son.
[In August 1791, Burns received a letter from the Earl of Buchan, inviting
him to be present at Ednam near Kelso on 22nd September, to take part in
the ceremony of inaugurating a monumental erection he had reared there,
to be unveiled on Thomson's birthday.
Burns replied in courteous fashion ; but said that " a week or two's
absence, in the very middle of harvest, is what I much d^ubt I dare not
venture on. Your lordship hints at an Ode for the occasion ; but who would
2O Poems and Songs. [i79i
write aftei Collins? I read over his verses to the memory of Thomson, and
despaired. I got indeed to the length of three or four stanzas, in the way
of address to the shade of the hard, on crowning his bust. I shall trouble
your lordship with the subjoined copy of them, which, I am afraid, will be
but too convincing a proof how unequal I am for the task."]
NITHSDALE'S WELCOME HAME.
THE noble Maxwells and their powers
Are coming o'er the border,
And they'll gae big * Terreagles' towers,
And set them a' in order.
And they declare Terreagles fair,
For their abode they choose it ;
There's no a heart in a' the land
But's lighter at the news o't.
Tho' stars in skies may disappear,
And angry tempests gather ;
The happy hour may soon be near
That brings us pleasant weather :
The weary night o' care and grief
May hae a joyfu' morrow ;
So t dawning day has brought relief,
Fareweel our night o' sorrow.
[The song in the text was composed and presented to Lady Winifred
Maxwell Constable of Terreagles, as an affectionate tribute of respect for an
ancient family in whose fortunes the poet felt a natural interest.]
FRAE THE FRIENDS AND LAND I LOVE.
FRAE the friends and land I love,
Driv'n by Fortune's felly spite ;
Frae my best belov'd I rove,
Never mair to taste delight :
* build. t since.
^T- 33-] Poems and Songs. ai
Never mair maun hope to find
Ease frae toil, relief frae care ;
When Remembrance wracks the mind,
Pleasures but unveil despair.
Brightest climes shall mirk appear,
Desert ilka blooming shore,
Till the Fates, nae mair severe,
Friendship, love, and peace restore.
Till Revenge, wi 3 laurel'd head,
Bring our banished hame again ;
And ilk loyal, bonie lad
Cross the seas, and win his ain.
[The poet in his Glenriddell notes claims only the last four lines of this
song, which he says he added " by way of giving a turn to the theme of the
poem, such as it is."]
SUCH A PARCEL OF ROGUES IN A NATION.
FAREWEEL to a' our Scottish fame,
Fareweel our ancient glory ;
Fareweel ev'n to the Scottish name,
Sae fam'd in martial story.
Now Sark rins over Solway sands,
An' Tweed rins to the ocean,
To mark where England's province stands
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation !
What force or guile could not subdue,
Thro' many warlike ages,
Is wrought now by a coward few,
For hireling traitor's wages.
The English steel we could disdain,
Secure in valour's station ;
But English gold has been our bane-
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation !
22 Poems and Songs. [ 1 7 9 1 .
O would, ere I had seen the day
That Treason thus could sell us,
My auld grey head had lien in clay,
Wi J Bruce and loyal Wallace !
But pith and power, till my last hour,
I'll mak this declaration ;
We're bought and sold for English gold
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation !
[The chief reference in this piece is to the treaty of Union between Eng-
land and Scotland, which was signed on 22nd July 1707. An old-fashioned
prejudice against this measure was long in dying away, among the Jacob-
ites in particular ; and this seems to have been one of several pieces which
were constructed by Burns for the delectation of his friends whose tastes
lay in that direction.]
VE JACOBITES BY NAME.
YE Jacobites by name, give an ear, give an ear,
Ye Jacobites by name, give an ear,
Ye Jacobites by name,
Your fautes I will proclaim,
Your doctrines I maun blame, you shall hear.
What is Right, and what is Wrang, by the law, by the
law?
What is Right, and what is Wrang, by the law ?
What is Right, and what is Wrang ?
A short sword, and a lang,
A weak arm and a strang, for to draw.
What makes heroic strife, famed afar, famed afar ?
What makes heroic strife, famed afar ?
What makes heroic strife ?
To whet th' assassin's knife,
Or hunt a Parent's life, wi' bluidy war ?
JET. 33.] Poems and Songs. 23
Then let your schemes alone, in the state, in the state,
Then let your schemes alone, in the state.
Then let your schemes alone,
Adore the rising sun,
And leave a man undone, to his fate.
[This powerful political satire, in which some of the bard's favourite
sentiments are expressed under the coverture of Jacobitism, might have
been produced for the gratification of his neighbour, Lady Winifred Max-
well.]
I HAE BEEN AT CROOKIEDEN.
1 HAE been at Crookieden,*
My bonie laddie, Highland laddie,
Viewing Willie and his men,
My bonie laddie, Highland laddie.
There our foes that burnt and slew,
My bonie laddie, Highland laddie,
There, at last, they gat their due,
My bonie laddie, Highland laddie.
Satan sits in his black neuk,t
My bonie laddie, Highland laddie,
Breaking sticks to roast the Duke,
My bonie laddie, Highland laddie.
The bloody monster gae a yell,
My bonie laddie, Highland laddie,
And loud the laugh gied round a' hell
My bonie laddie, Highland laddie.
[This familiar ditty is mainly indebted to the hand of Burns for its point
and pith. The original title of the tune is " Jinglin John," and after the
cruelties of William, Duke of Cumberland, at Culloden, it became one of
several quick step tunes known by the title " Bonie laddie, Highland laddie."]
* a cant name for hell. t corner.
24 Poems and Songs. [ 1 79 1 .
O KENMURE'S ON AND AWA, WILLIE.
O KENMURE'S on and awa, Willie,
O Kenmure's on and awa ;
An' Kenmure's lord's the bravest lord
That ever Galloway saw.
Success to Kenmure's band, Willie !
Success to Kenmure's band !
There's no a heart that fears a Whig,
That rides by Kenmure's hand.
Here's Kenmure's health in wine, Willie !
Here's Kenmure's health in wine !
There's ne'er a coward o' Kenmure's blude,
Nor yet o' Gordon's line.
O Kenmure's lads are men, Willie,
O Kenmure's lads are men ;
Their hearts and swords are metal true,
And that their foes shall ken.
They'll live or die wi' fame, Willie,
They'll live or die wi' fame ;
But sune, wi' sounding victorie,
May Kenmure's lord come hame !
Here's him that's far awa, Willie !
Here's him that's far awa !
And here's the flower that I loe best,
The rose that's like the snaw.
[The hand of Burns is very visible here ; but it is impossible to say what
portions of the song are old and what by him.
The Right Hon. William George, Viscount Kenmure, was Commander-
in-chief of the Chevalier's forces in the south-west of Scotland; in 1715. At
the head of two hundred horsemen, he formed a junction with the troops
under General Forster, and they marched into Preston in Lancashire. Here
he was compelled to surrender a prisoner at discretion, on i3th Nov. 1715,
and early on the following month, he and many of his unfortunate followers
were conducted to London, where they were subjected to great indignities.
Lord Kenmure was afterwards tried, and beheaded on Tower-hill, 24th Feb
1716.]
33.] Poems and Son^s. 25
EPISTLE TO JOHN MAXWELL, ESQ. OF
TERRAUGHTY,
ON HIS BIRTH-DAY.
HEALTH to the Maxwell's veteran Chief !
Health, ay unsour'd by care or grief :
Inspired, I turn'd Fate's sibyl leaf,
This natal morn,
I see thy life is stuff o' prief,
Scarce quite half-worn.
This day thou metes threescore eleven,
And I can tell that bounteous Heaven,
(The second-sight, ye ken, is given
To ilka Poet)
On thee a tack o' seven times seven
Will yet bestow it.
If envious buckies view wi' sorrow
Thy lengthen'd days on this blest morrow,
May Desolation's lang-teeth'd harrow,
Nine miles an hour,
Rake them, like Sodom and Gomorrah,
In brunstane stoure.
But for thy friends, and they are mony,
Baith honest men, and lasses bonie,
May couthie Fortune, kind and cannie,
In social glee,
Wi' mornings blythe, and e'enings funny,
Bless them and thee \
Fareweel, auld birkie ! Lord be near ye,
And then the deil, he daurna steer ye :
26 Poems and Songs. [I79 1 -
Your friends ay love, your faes ay fear ye ;
For me, shame fa' me,
If neist my heart I dinna wear ye,
While BURNS they ca' me.
[John Maxwell, of Terraughty and Munches, near Dumfries, was seventy-
one years old when Burns thus addressed him, and although his earthly
pilgrimage was not extended by forty-nine years more, according to the
poet's wish, he eventually reached the age of ninety-four. Chambers
informs us that he was descended, at a comparatively small number of
removes, from the gallant and faithful Lord Merries, who on bended knees
entreated Queen Mary to prosecute Bothwell, as the murderer of Darnley,
and who subsequently fought for her at Langside.
The original MS. of this Epistle is now in th^ Poet's Monument at
Edinburgh, to which it was presented raany years ago by the publisher of
this Edition.]
SECOND EPISTLE TO ROBERT GRAHAM, ESQ.
OF FINTRY.
STH OCTOBER 1791.
LATE crippl'd of an arm, and now a leg,
About to beg a pass for leave to beg ;
Dull, listless, teas'd, dejected, and deprest
(Nature 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, I arraign ;
Of thy caprice maternal I complain :
The lion and the bull thy care have found,
One shakes the forests, and one spurns the ground ;
Thou giv'st the ass his hide, the snail his shell ;
Th' envenom'd wasp, victorious, guards his cell ;
Thy minions kings defend, control, devour,
In all th' omnipotence of rule and power ;
T. 33. J Poems and Songs. 27
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 ;
Ev'n silly woman has her warlike arts,
Her tongue and eyes her dreaded spear and darts.
But Oh ! thou bitter step-mother and hard,
To thy poor, fenceless, naked child the Bard !
A thing unteachable in world's skill,
And half an idiot too, more helpless still :
No heels to bear him from the op'ning dun ;
No claws to dig, his hated sight to shun ;
No horns, but those by luckless Hymen worn,
And those, alas ! not, Amalthea's horn :
No nerves olfact'ry, Mammon's trusty cur,
Clad in rich Dulness' comfortable fur ;
In naked feeling, and in aching pride,
He bears th' unbroken blast from ev'ry side :
Vampyre booksellers drain him to the heart,
And scorpion critics cureless venom dart :
Critics appall'd, I venture on the name ;
Those cut-throat 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 wrung,
By blockheads 3 daring into madness stung ;
His well-won bays, than life itself more dear,
By miscreants torn, who ne'er one sprig must wear ;
Foil'd, bleeding, tortur'd in th' unequal strife,
The hapless Poet flounders on thro' life :
Till, fled each hope that once his bosom fir'd,
And fled each muse that glorious once inspir'cl,
Low sunk in squalid, unprotected age,
Dead even resentment for his injured page,
28 Poems and Songs. [ 1 79 1 .
He heeds or feels no more the ruthless critic's rage !
So, by some hedge, the gen'rous steed deceas'd,
For half-starv'd snarling curs a dainty feast ;
By toil and famine wore to skin and bone,
Lies, senseless of each tugging bitch's son.
Dulness ! portion of the truly blest !
Calm shelter'd haven of eternal rest !
Thy sons ne'er madden in the fierce extremes
Of Fortune's polar frost, or torrid beams.
If mantling high she fills the golden cup,
With sober selfish ease they sip it up ;
Conscious the bounteous meed they well deserve,
They only wonder " some folks " do not starve.
The grave sage hern thus easy picks his frog,
And thinks the mallard a sad worthless dog.
When disappointment snaps the clue of hope,
And thro' disastrous night they darkling grope,
With deaf endurance sluggishly 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 moon-struck brain ;
In equanimity they never dwell,
By turns in soaring heav'n, or vaulted hell.
1 dread thee, 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 eclips'd as noon appears,
And left us darkling in a world of tears) :
O ! hear my ardent, grateful, selfish pray'r !
Fintry, my other stay, long bless and spare !
Thro' a long life his hopes and wishes crown,
^ET. 33.] Poems and Songs. 29
And bright in cloudless skies his sun go down !
May bliss domestic smooth his private path ;
Give energy to life ; and soothe his latest breath,
With many a filial tear circling the bed of death !
[The opening lines refer to the fact that about the end of March 1791, the
poet had the misfortune to come down with his horse, and break his right
arm. He soon recovered from that mishap, but about the close of the fol-
lowing September he experienced a similar accident, by which his leg was
broken or sadly bruised. In sending the poem which forms the text he thus
wrote : " Along with two other pieces, I enclose you a sheetful of groans,
wrung from me in my elbow-chair, with one unlucky leg on a stool before
me."]
THE SONG OF DEATH.
Scene. A Field of Battle Time of the day, evening The wounded and
dying of the victorious army are supposed to join in the following song.
FAREWELL, thou fair day, thou green earth and ye skies,
Now gay with the broad setting sun ;
Farewell, loves and friendships, ye dear tender ties,
Our race of existence is run !
Thou grim King of Terrors ; thou Life's gloomy foe !
Go, frighten the coward and slave ;
Go, teach them to tremble, fell tyrant ! but know
No terrors hast thou to the brave !
Thou strik'st the dull peasant he sinks in the dark,
Nor saves e'en the wreck of a name ;
Thou strik'st the young hero a glorious mark ;
He falls in the blaze of his fame !
In the field of proud honor our swords in our hands,
Our king and our country to save ;
While victory shines on Life's last ebbing sands,
O who would not die with the brave ?
[This appears to be the last composition produced by Burns before leaving
Ellisland to take up his abode in the town of Dumfries.
In sending this piece to Mrs Dunlop he wrote thus : " I have just
finished the following song, which, to a lady the descendant of Wallace, and
many heroes of his illustrious line, and herself the mother of several soldiers,
30 Poems and Songs. [i79 J -
needs neither preface nor apology." And, under the words, he added
" The circumstance that gave rise to it was looking over, with a musical
friend, M'Donald's Collection of Highland airs, I was struck with one, an
Isle of Skye tune, entitled ' Oran an Aoig, or The Song of Death,' to ibe
measure of which I have adapted my stanzas."]
POEM ON SENSIBILITY.
SENSIBILITY, how charming,
Dearest Nancy, thou canst tell ;
But distress, with horrors arming,
Thou alas ! hast known too well !
Fairest flower, behold the lily
Blooming in the sunny ray ;
Let the blast sweep o'er the valley,
See it prostrate in the clay.
Hear the woodlark charm the forest,
Telling o'er his little joys ;
But alas ! a prey the surest
To each pirate of the skies.
Dearly bought the hidden treasure
Finer feelings can bestow :
Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure,
Thrill the deepest notes of woe.
[For some years the correspondence between Burns and Mrs M'Lehose
had entirely ceased ; for she still retained the unforgiving attitude which
broken hopes and wounded pride forced her to assume on hearing of the
poet's marriage to Jean Armour in April or May 1788. In the autumn of
1791, however, she made overtures towards reconciliation by sending him
some verses she had lately composed. In his reply he says : " I have per-
used your most beautiful, but most pathetic poem do not ask me how often,
or with what emotions. You know that 'I dare to sin, but not to lie!'
Your verses wring the confession from my inmost soul, that I will say it,
expose it if you please I have more than once in my life been the victim of
a damning conjuncture of circumstances ; and that to me you must be ever
' Dear as the light that visits those sad eyes.'
I have just, since I had yours, composed the following stanzas ; let me
know your opinion of them.
Sensibility, how charming, &c."]
. 33.] Poems and Songs. 31
ptttlrtttlb })tfot to &M. 1792.
THE TOADEATER.
OF Lordly acquaintance you boast,
And the Dukes that you dined with yestreen ;
Why, an insect's an insect at most,
Tho' it crawl on the curl of a Queen !
[Allan Cunningham, in his Biography of our Poet, tells us that "at the
table of Maxwell of Terraughty, when one of the guests chose to talk of
the Dukes and Earls with whom he had drank or dined, Burns silenced
him with an epigram, thus :
" What of Earls with whom you have supt ?
And of Dukes that you dined with yestreen ?
Lord ! an insect's an insect at most,
Tho' it crawl on the curls of a Queen."
These epigrams are differently quoted by the various editors Thus
Chambers, in 1838, gave the following version of this trifle :
" No more of your titled acquaintances boast,
And what nobles and gentles you've seen ;
An insect is only an insect at most,
Tho' it crawl on the curl of a queen."'
DIVINE SERVICE IN THE KIRK OF
LAMINGTON.
As cauld a wind as ever blew,
A caulder kirk, and in't but few :
A caulder Preacher never spak
Ye'se a' be het or I come back.
[Lamington is in Clydesdale, and the poet occasionally tarried for a day
or two in that neighbourhood.]
32 Poems and Songs. C I 79 I -
THE KEEKIN GLASS.
How daur ye ca' me " H owlet-face" ?
Ye blear-e'ed, withered spectre !
Ye only spied the keekin-glass,
An there ye saw your picture.
["The history of this curious epigram is thus given : Burns one day visited
his landlord, Mr Miller, at Dalswinton house ; and Miss Miller, in answer
to some complimentary remark from the poet about her blooming looks,
told him that she had been much less commended on the previous evening.
One of the Lords of Justiciary from the circuit court at Dumfries happened
to be dining with her father, and the gentlemen sat over their cups a con-
siderable time after dinner. When they joined the ladies in the drawing
room, his lordship's visual organs were so much affected that, pointing to
Miss Miller, he asked her father, "Wha's yon howlet-faced thing i 1 the
corner."
Burns immediately pulled out his pencil and wrote on a slip of paper the
above lines, which he handed to Miss Miller, saying " There is the
answer you should send him."]
A GRACE BEFORE DINNER, EXTEMPORE.
O thou who kindly dost provide
For every creature's want !
We bless Thee, 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 !
A GRACE AFTER DINNER, EXTEMPORE.
O THOU, in whom we live and move
Who made the sea and shore ;
Thy goodness constantly we prove,
And, grateful, would adore :
/ET. 33.] Poems and Songs. 33
And, if it please Thee, Power above !
Still grant us, with such store,
The friend we trust, the fair we love
And we desire no more. Amen !
[Both of these expressions of thankfulness and devotion are happily con-
ceived.
Currie has given us interesting particulars of a visit paid to the poet at
his farm in the summer of 1790, by Mr Ramsay of Ochtertyre, accompanied
by Dr Stuart of Luss. "I was much pleased (related Mr Ramsay) with
his uxor Sabina qualis, and the poet's modest mansion, so unlike the
habitation of ordinary rustics. . . . Such was the force and versatility of the
bard's genius, that he made the teais run down Dr Stuart's cheeks, albeit
unused to melting mood. . . . From that time we met no more, and I was
grieved at the reports of him afterwards : poor Burns ! we shall hardly ever
see his like again ! He was, in truth, a sort of comet in literature, irregular
in its motion, which did net do good proportioned to the blaze of light it
displayed." Fair and softly, Mr Ramsay ! we shall have to " wait a little
longer " say, a century or two before philosophers can measure the
"good " of such a spirit as that of Burns.
" So triumphs the Bard ! he hath pass'd from our sight,
But his thoughts, like the power of the sun,
Shall continue the light of their truth and their might,
Till the aim of their mission be won."
In the summer of 1791 (that which, with our reader, we have just been
passing through,) he was visited at Ellisland " by two English gentlemen ;"
Currie gives the account from the information of one of the party : " He
received them with great cordiality, and asked them to share his humble
dinner an invitation which they accepted. After dinner, he produced his
punch-bowl, made of Inverary marble, and mixing the spirit from the bottle
which Mrs Burns set on the board, with water and sugar, he rilled their
glasses, and invited them to drink. Burns was in his happiest mood, and
the charms of his conversation were altogether fascinating. In the wildest
of his strains of mirth, he threw in touches of melancholy, and spread around
him the electric emotions of his powerful mind. The Highland whisky
improved in its flavour : the marble-bowl was again and again emptied and
replenished : the guests forgot the flight of time and the dictates of prudence :
at the hour of midnight they lost their way in returning to Dumfries, and
could scarcely distinguish the town even when assisted by the morning's
dawn."
Ellisland, with its scaur over the flowing Nith, from the brow of which
the poet used to glower and spell, with a westlin look in the direction of
Corsincone, must now be abandoned. To Dumfries "with darkening or
illusive prospects, and dubious patronage, he must go 1 Multitudinous
temptations, and uncertain footing" await him there: "sycophants, and
III. C
34 Poems and Songs. [ 1 7 9 1
spies, and tale-bearers to government, and to posterity," shall encompass
his path ; but his stay shall be brief not so much as five years in duration.
His genius with its elevating instincts shall bear him through the ordeal,
and the music of his minstrelsy shall not cease to be heard even when the
Bard seems "to know existence only by the pressure of the heavy hand ot
sickness, and to count time by the repercussions of pain."]
iDumfries
(Nov. 1791, TO JULY 1796.)
" George the Third is Defender of something we call ' the Faith ' in those
years ; George the Third is head charioteer of the Destinies of England, to
guide them through the gulph of French Revolutions, American Independ-
encies, &c. ; and Robert Burns is Gauger of ale in Dumfries. It is an Iliad in
a nutshell. We find a Poet, as brave a man as has been made for a hundred
years or so, anywhere under the sun; and do we kindle bonfires, or thank
the gods ? Not at all. We, taking due counsel of it, set the man to gauge
ale-barrels in the Burgh of Dumfries ; and pique ourselves on our ' patron-
age of genius.' "Carlytis " Past and Present" Book 2, Chap. ix.
THE DEAREST O' THE QUORUM.
O MAY, thy morn was ne'er sae sweet
As the mirk night o' December !
For sparkling was the rosy wine,
And private was the chamber :
And dear was she I dare na name.
But I will ay remember :
And dear was she I dare na name,
But I will ay remember.
And here's to them that, like oursel ,
Can push about the jorum !
And here's to them that wish us weel,
May a' that's gude watch o'er 'em !
And here's to them, we dare na tell,
The dearest o' the quorum !
And here's to them, we dare na tell,
The dearest o' the quorum.
^ T - 33-] r<w>:s and Songs. 35
[On 23rd November Burns wrote to Clarinda from Dumfries, informing
her that he would be in Edinburgh on the first Tuesday thereafter. That
lady (as Chambers explains) ' ' was now approaching a critical passage of
her own history. She had resolved, though with much hesitation, to accept
an invitation from her heartless husband, and join him in Jamaica. A part-
ing interview took place between her and Burns in Edinburgh specially on
the 6th of December. That it gave an occasion to an effusion of passionate
feeling, is strongly hinted at in a letter of the poet written a twelvemonth
after. We may also hesitate little in reading as a record of the scene a
series of lyrics, one of which is amongst the most earnest and arresting ex-
pressions of intense feeling ever composed in verse." This remark refers to
the three songs we next proceed to lay before the reader. That which now
forms the text appears to be a dash-off, but warmly coloured, reminiscence
of the same private interview, disrobed of the passionately sentimental
aspect which pervades the lyrics he communicated to the lady herself]
PARTING SONG TO CLARINDA.
AE fond kiss, and then we sever ;
Ae farewell, and then forever !
Deep in heart- wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.
Who shall say that Fortune grieves him,
While the star of hope she leaves him ?
Me, nae cheerful twinkle lights me ;
Dark despair around benights me.
I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy,
Naething could resist my Nancy :
But to see her was to love her ;
Love but her, and love for ever.
Had we never lov'd sae kindly,
Had we never lov'd sae blindly,
Never met or never parted,
We had ne'er been broken-hearted.
Fare-thee-weel, thou first and fairest !
Fare-thee-weel, thou best and dearest !
Thine be ilka joy and treasure,
Peace, Enjoyment, Love and Pleasure !
36 Poems and Songs, [ 1 79 r .
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever !
Ae farewell, alas, for ever !
Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.
[This impassioned lyric was posted to Mrs M'Lehose in a letter from
Dumfries on 27th December 1791, and contained also the two songs which
immediately follow, on the same subject. The latter half of stanza second
was used by Byron as a motto for his " Bride of Abydos." Sir Walter Scott
remarked that these four lines " contain the essence of a thousand love
tales ; " and Mrs Jameson eloquently added that the lines are " in themselves
a complete romance the alpha and omega of feeling, and contain the
essence of an existence of pain and pleasure distilled into one burning
drop."]
BEHOLD THE HOUR, THE BOAT, ARRIVE.
BEHOLD the hour, the boat, arrive !
My dearest Nancy, O fareweel !
Severed frae thee, can I survive,
Frae thee whom I hae lovM sae weel ?
Endless and deep shall be my grief ;
Nae ray of comfort shall I see,
But this most precious, dear belief,
That thou wilt still remember me !
Alang the solitary shore
Where flitting sea-fowl round me cry,
Across the rolling, dashing roar,
I'll westward turn my wishful eye.
* Happy thou Indian grove,' I'll say,
* Where now my Nancy's path shall be !
While thro' your sweets she holds her way,
O tell me, does she muse on me ? '
[These verses, sent on 27th December 1791 to Clarinda, pleased Burns so
much that in September 1793, he subjected them to some farther polishing
to appear in George Thomson's collection set to a Gaelic air, called " Oran
Gaoil."]
- 33J Poems and Songs. 37
THOU GLOOMY DECEMBER.
ANCE mair I hail thee, thou gloomy December !
Ance mair I hail thee wi' sorrow and care ;
Sad was the parting thou makes me remember
Parting wi' Nancy, oh, ne'er to meet mair !
Fond lovers' parting is sweet, painful pleasure,
Hope beaming mild on the soft parting hour ;
But the dire feeling, O farewell for ever !
Anguish unmingled, and agony pure !
Wild as the winter now tearing the forest,
Till the last leaf o' the summer is flown.
Such is the tempest has shaken my bosom,
Till my last hope and last comfort is gone.
Still as I hail thee, thou gloomy December,
Still shall I hail thee wi' sorrow and care ;
For sad was the parting thou makes me remember,
Parting wi' Nancy, oh, ne'er to meet mair.
[Only the two opening stanzas of this song were forwarded to Clarinda in
the poet's letter to her of 2yth December, which closes with these verses,
followed by the words "The rest of this song is on the wheels." The
remainder was added some time after.]
MY NATIVE LAND SAE FAR AWA.
O SAD and heavy, should I part,
But for her sake, sae far awa ;
Unknowing what my way may thwart,
My native land sae far awa.
Thou that of a' things Maker art,
That formed this Fair sae far awa,
Gie body strength, then I'll ne'er start,
At this my way sae far awa.
38 Poems and Songs. [1792.
How true is love to pure desert !
Like mine for her sae far awa ;
And nocht shall heal my bosom's smart,
While, oh, she is sae far awa !
Nane other love, nane other dart,
I feel but her's sae far awa ;
But fairer never touch'd a heart
Than her's, the Fair, sae far awa.
[This song would almost pass for one of the series composed at this period
in reference to the author's parting with Clarinda. Others have been pressed
into the same service by some of the poet's editors, such as " My Nannie's
Awa," "Wandering Willie," &c. ; but the dates of these are considerably
later, as may be ascertained from the Thomson correspondence.]
LINES ON FERGUSSON, THE POET.
ILL-FATED genius ! Heaven-taught Fergusson,
What heart that feels and will not yield a tear,
To think Life's sun did set e'er well begun
To shed its influence on thy bright career.
O why should truest Worth and Genius pine
Beneath the iron grasp of Want and Woe,
While titled knaves and idiot-Greatness shine
In all the splendour Fortune can bestow ?
[Chambers assigns this little effusion to the early portion of 1792, and
informs us that the poet had inscribed the lines on a blank leaf of a publication,
called The World, which we find he ordered from Peter Hill on 2nd
February 1790.]
I DO CONFESS THOU ART SAE FAIR.
ALTERATION OF AN OLD POEM.
I DO confess thou art sae fair,
I wad been o'er the lugs in luve,
Had I na found the slightest prayer
That lips could speak thy heart could muve
/ET. 33.] Poems and Songs. 39
I do confess thee sweet, but find
Thou art so thriftless o' thy sweets,
Thy favours are the silly wind
That kisses ilka thing it meets.
See yonder rosebud, rich in dew,
Amang its native briers sae coy ;
How sune it tines its scent and hue,
When pu'd and worn a common toy ;
Sic fate ere lang shall thee betide,
Tho' thou may gaily bloom awhile ;
And sune thou shalt be thrown aside,
Like ony common weed and vile.
[The poet in his Glenriddell Notes says : " This song is altered from a
poem by Sir Robert Aytoun, private secretary to Mary and Anne, Queens
of Scotland. I do think that I have improved the simplicity of the senti-
ments by giving them a Scots dress."]
THE WEARY FUND O' TOW.
Chorus The weary pund, the weary pund,
The weary pund o' tow ;
I think my wife will end her life,
Before she spin her tow.
I BOUGHT my wife a stane o' lint,
As gude as e'er did grow,
And a j that she has made o' that
Is ae puir pund o' tow,
The weary pund, &c.
There sat a bottle in a bole,
Ayont the ingle low ;
And aye she took the tither souk.
To drouk the stourie tow,
The weary pund, c.
40 Poems and Songs. [i79 2 -
Quoth I, for shame, ye dirty dame,
Gae spin your tap o' tow !
She took the rock, and wi' a knock,
She brake it o'er my pow,
The weary pund, &c.
At last her feet I sang to see't !
Gaed foremost o'er the knowe,
And or I wad anither jad,
I'll wallop in a tow,
The weary pund, &c.
[This was a favourite subject among the old song writers. In a later
edition ot Herd's Collection (1791) we find the following :-
" If my wife and thy wife
Were in a boat thegither,
And yon honest man's wife
Were there to steer the ruther ;
And if the boat was bottomless,
And seven miles to row ;
We ne'er would wish them back again
To spin their taps o' tow."
Burns is undoubtedly the author of the version of the song which forms the
text. The title and music are taken from Oswald's Caledonian Pocket
Companion, Book 8. The tune has been much admired and was selected
to suit Mr Graham of Gartmore's chivalrous words, published by Sir Walter
Scott in the Border Minstrelsy. The first verse will indicate the song.
" If doughty deeds my ladye please,
Right soon I'll mount my steed ;
And strong his arm and fast his seat,
That bears from me the meed,
I'll wear thy colours in my cap,
Thy picture in my heart ;
And he that bends not to thine eye
Shall rue it to his smart,
Chorus. Then tell me how to woo thee, love,
O tell me how to woo thee I
For thy dear sake, nae care I'll take,
Tho" ne'er another trow me."]
JET. 34.] Poems and Songs. 41
WHEN SHE CAM' BEN SHE BOBBET
O WHEN she cam' ben she bobbet fu' low,
O when she cam' ben she bobbet fu' low.
And when she cam' ben, she kiss'd Cockpen,
And syne she denyM she did it ava.
And was na Cockpen right saucy witha'?
And was na Cockpen right saucy witha'?
In leaving the daughter o' a lord,
And kissin' a collier lassie an' a' !
O never look down, my lassie, at a',
O never look down, my lassie, at a',
Thy lips are as sweet, and thy figure complete,
As the finest dame in castle or ha.'
Tho' thou hast nae silk, and holland sae sma',
Tho' thou hast nae silk, and holland sae sma 5 ,
Thy coat and thy sark are thy ain handywark,
And lady Jean was never sae braw.
[This is certainly more of a dressed-up old ballad than an original song.
Such as it is, however, it was destined to give the hint to Lady Nairne, out
of which issued her famous ballad
"The Laird o' Cockpen, he's proud and he's great."
The air of this song is so familiar that it needs not to be given here.]
SCROGGAM, MY DEARIE.
THERE was a wife wonn'd in Cockpen,
Scroggam ;
She brew'd gude ale for gentlemen ;
Sing auld Cowl, lay ye down by me,
Scroggam, my dearie, ruffum.
42 Poems and Songs. [1792
The gudewife's dochter fell in a fever,
Scroggam ;
The priest o' the parish he fell in anither ;
Sing auld Cowl lay ye down by me,
Scroggam, my dearie, ruffum.
They laid them side by side thegither,
Scroggam ;
That the heat o' the taen might cool the tither ;
Sing auld Cowl, lay ye down by me,
Scroggam, my dearie, ruffum.
[This singular song has Burns' s name attached to it in the Museum.
We place it here in consequence of its connection with the preceding song,
so far as locality is concerned. Cockpen is a neat village a few miles south
from Edinburgh, with a parish church, of which Lord Dalhousie is the
patron.]
MY COLLIER LADDIE.
WHARE live ye, my bonie lass ?
And tell me what they ca' ye ;
My name, she says, is mistress Jean,
And I follow the Collier laddie.
My name, she says, &c.
See you not yon hills and dales
The sun shines on sae brawlie ;
They a' are mine, and they shall be thine.
Gin ye'll leave your Collier laddie.
They a' are mine, &c.
Ye shall gang in gay attire,
Weel buskit up sae gaudy ;
And ane to wait on every hand,
Gin ye'll leave your Collier laddie.
And ane to wait, &c.
JET. 34.] Poems and Songs. 43
Tho' ye had a' the sun shines on,
And the earth conceals sae lowly,
I wad turn my back on you and it a',
And embrace my Collier laddie.
I wad turn my back, &c.
I can win my five pennies in a day,
An 3 spend it at night fu' brawlie ;
And make my bed in the collier's neuk,
And lie down wi' my Collier laddie.
And make my bed, &c.
Loove for loove is the bargain for me,
Tho' the wee cot-house should baud me ;
And the warld before me to win my bread,
And fair fa' my Collier laddie !
And the warld before me, &c.
[This is one of those songs never seen or heard in the world before the
poet picked it up, both words and music, "from the singing of a country
Jirl."]
SIC A WIFE AS WILLIE HAD.
WILLIE WASTLE dwalt on Tweed,
The spot they ca'd it Linkumdoddie ;*
Willie was a wabstert gude,
Could stoun \ a clue wi' ony body :
He had a wife was dour and din,||
Tinkler Maidgie was her mither ;
Sic a wife as Willie had,
1 wad na gie a button for her.
She has an e'e, she has but ane,
The cat has twa the very colour ;
* an imaginary locality. t weaver. \ stolen.
I sulky. y ill-colcnred.
44 Poems and Songs. [ 1 79 2 *
Five rusty teeth forbye a stump,
A clapper tongue wad deave* a miller :
A whiskin beard about her mou,t
Her nose and chin they threaten ither ;
Sic a wife as Willie had,
I wad na gie a button for her.
She's bow-hough'd,| she's hen-shin'd,
Ae limpin leg a hand-breed shorter ; ||
She's twisted right, she'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 wife as Willie had,
I wad na gie a button for her.
Auld baudrans "IF by the ingle ** sits
An' wi' her loof tt her face a washin ;
But Willie's wife is nae sae trig,
She dights her grunzie JJ wi' a hushion :
Her walie nieves || || like midden-creels, 1HT
Her face wad fyle *** the Logan Water ;
Sic a wife as Willie had,
I wad na gie a button for her
[Cunningham tells us that the heroine was the wife of a farmer who lived
near Ellisland. Mrs Renwick of New York (the "blue-eyed lassie" of
Burns's song) refers to this matter thus : " Cunningham says, the name of
Willie Wastle's wife is lost ; I could tell him who she was, but there is no
use in opening up old sores."]
* deafen. t mouth. J crooked in the hip-joint.
shot ankles like a hen.
|| one leg shorter than its fellow by a hand-breadth. ^ cat.
** fireside. ft paw. tt pig-shaped mouth.
a stocking leg with the leet cut off, worn over the arms in winter.
|| || powerful fists. UH baskets for removing manure. *** pollute.
/ET 34.] Poems and Songs. 45
LADY MARY ANN.
O LADY Mary Ann looks o'er the Castle wa',
She saw three bonie boys playing at the ba',
The youngest he was the flower amang them a',
My bonie laddie's young, but he's growin' yet.
O father, O father, an ye think it fit,
We'll send him a year to the college yet,
We'll sew a green ribbon round about his hat,
And that will let them ken he's to marry yet.
Lady Mary Ann was a flower in the dew,
Sweet was its smell and bonie was its hue,
And the longer it blossom'd the sweeter it grew,
For the lily in the bud will be bonier yet.
Young Charlie Cochran was the sprout of an aik,
Bonie and bloomin' and straught was its make,
The sun took delight to shine for its sake,
And it will be the brag o' the forest yet.
The simmer is gane when the leaves they were green,
And the days are awa' that we hae seen,
But far better days I trust will come again ;
For my bonie laddie's young, but he's growin' yet.
[This ballad is said to be founded on a real incident dating about 1634.
The young Urquhart of Craigston, who by the death of his parents had fallen
into the guardianship of the laird of Innes, was married, while yet a youth,
to his daughter Elizabeth Innes, with the object of securing his estates.
The closing verse of the original ballad is thus given:
" In his twelfth year, he was a married man,
In his thirteenth year, there he gat a son,
In his fourteenth year, his grave was growing gretii.
And that was the end of his growing."]
46 Poems and Songs. (i79 2
KELLY BURN BRAES.
THERE leevit a carl in Kelly Burn Braes, 1
Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme ;
And he had a wife was the plague o' his days,
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.
Ae day as the carl gaed up the lang glen,
Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme ;
He met wi' the Deil, wha said, " How do you fen ? "
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.
" I've got a bad wife, sir, that's a' my complaint,
Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme ;
For, saving your presence, to her ye're a saint,
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime."
" It's neither your stot nor your staig I shall crave,
Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme ;
But gie me your wife, man, for her I must have,
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.''
" O welcome most kindly ! " the blythe carl said,
''Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme ;
But if ye can match her ye're waur than ye're ca'd,
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime."
The Devil has got the auld wife on his back,
Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme ;
And like a poor pedlar he's carried his pack,
And the thyme it is wither d, and rue is in prime.
1 The Kelly Burn is the northern boundary of Ayrshire, and divides the
parish of Largs from Renfrewshire for upwards of two miles, and flows into
the firth of Clyde at Kelly Bridge. Further east, the boundary is marked
by "the Rowtin Burn," and the locality is called "The Back o' the
Warld."
<ET. 34.] Poems and Songs. 47
He's carried her hame to his ain hallan door,
Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme ;
Syne bade her gae in for a b , and a w ,
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime
Then straight he makes fifty, the pick o' his band,
Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme ;
Turn out on her guard in the clap o' a hand,
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.
The carlin gaed thro' them like ony wud bear,
Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme ;
Whae'er she gat hands on cam' ne'er her nae mair,
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.
A reekit wee deevil looks over the wa',
Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme ;
" O help, maister, help, or she'll ruin us a'!"
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.
The Devil he swore by the edge o' his knife,
Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme :
He pitied the man that was tied to a wife,
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime
The Devil he swore by the kirk and the bell,
Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme ;
He was not in wedlock, thank Heav'n, but in hell,
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.
Then Satan has travell'd again wi' his pack,
Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme ;
And to her auld husband he's carried her back,
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.
" I hae been a Deevil the feck o' my life,
Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme ;
48 Poems and Songs. [i79 2 -
But ne'er was in hell till I met wi' a wife,
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime."
[This ballad displays the genius of Burns, perhaps, as decidedly as his
" Tarn o' Shanter." There is a sort of original ballad which suggested it,
an English production called "The Farmer's old Wife," which is given at
length in No. 62 of the Percy Society's Publications-!
THE SLAVE'S LAMENT.
IT was in sweet Senegal that my foes did me enthral,
For the lands of Virginia, ginia O :
Torn from that lovely shore, and must never see it more ;
And alas ! I am weary, weary O :
Torn from that lovely shore, and must never see it more ;
And alas ! I am weary, weary O.
All on that charming coast is no bitter snow and frost,
Like the lands of Virginia, ginia O :
There streams for ever flow, and the flowers for ever blow,
And alas ! I am weary, weary O :
There streams for ever flow, and flowers for ever blow,
And alas ! I am weary, weary, O.
The burden I must bear, while the cruel scourge I fear,
In the lands of Virginia, ginia O ;
And I think on friends most dear, with the bitter, bitter
tear,
And alas ! I am weary, weary O :
And I think on friends most dear, with the bitter, bitter
tear,
And alas ! I am weary, weary O.
[Both words and melody of this very tender production were communicated
by Burns to Johnson ; the air is supposed to be native African. Mr C. K.
Sharpe gives a stall-copy of a somewhat similar subject called "The
Betrayed Maid, ' which is of the most prosaic character.]
/ET. 34.] Poems and Songs. 49
O CAN YE LABOR LEA?
Chorus O can ye labor lea, young man,
O can ye labor lea ?
It fee nor bountith shall us twine
Gin ye can labor lea.
I FEE'D a man at Michaelmas,
Wi' airle pennies three ;
But a' the faut I had to him,
He could na labor lea,
O can ye labor lea, &c.
O clappin's gude in Febarwar,
An' kissin's sweet in May ;
But my delight's the ploughman lad,
That weel can labor lea,
O can ye labor lea, &c.
O kissin is the key o' luve,
And clappin is the lock ;
An' makin o's the best thing yet,
That e'er a young thing gat.
O can ye labour lea, &c.
[It is explained by farmers that to "labour lea" is to plough soil that has
lain for a considerable time in grass, and the tearing up of the spretty roots is
rather a tough operation. The fine old melody attached to these words was
called "The Miller's Daughter," or " Sir Alexander Don's Strathspey," and
is now familiar over the whole globe as the air of Burns's "Auld Lang
Syne."]
THE DEUK'S DANG O'ER MY DADDIE.
THE bairns gat out wi' an unco * shout,
The deuk's t dang J o'er my daddie, O !
The fien-ma-care, quo' the feirrie|| auld wife,
He was but a paidlin IF body, O !
* uncommon. t duck. \ knocked over. devil-ma-care.
|| hale, active. TJ with shuffling gait.
111. D
50 Poems and Songs. [i79 2 -
He paidles out, and he paidles in,
An' he paidles late and early, O !
This seven lang years I hae lien by his side,
An' he is but a fusionless * carlie,t O.
O haud your tongue, my feirrie auld wife,
O haud your tongue, now Nansie, O :
I've seen the day, and sae hae ye,
Ye wad na been sae donsie,| O.
I've seen the day ye butter'd my brose,
And cuddl'd me late and early, O ;
But downa-do's come o'er me now,
And och, I find it sairly, O !
[This picture of senile frailty has its key-note struck in the opening
couplet by proclaiming the fact that a duck, in running between the feet of
the little old man, has overturned him in the gutter. The tune is old, and
was a favourite in England so early as 1657, when it; was included in Play-
ford's " Dancing Master," under the title of " The Buff Coat."
THE DEIL'S AWA WP TH' EXCISEMAN.
THE deil cam fiddlin thro' the town,
And danc'd awa wi' th' Exciseman,
And ilka wife cries^ " Auld Mahoun,
I wish you luck o' the prize, man."
Chorus The deil's awa, the deil's awa,
The deil's awa wi' th' Exciseman,
He's danc'd awa, he's danc'd awa,
He's danc'd awa wi' th' Exciseman.
* sapless, feckless. t little old man.
t troublesome, wanton. incapacity
JET. 34.] Poems and Songs. 51
We'll mak our maut, and we'll brew our drink,
We'll laugh, sing, and rejoice, man,
And mony braw thanks to the meikle black deil,
That danc'd awa wi' th' Exciseman.
The deil's awa, &c.
There's threesome reels, there's foursome reels,
There's hornpipes and strathspeys, man,
But the ae best dance ere cam to the land
Was the deil's awa wi' th' Exciseman.
The deil's awa, &c.
[Cromek's account of this song is that at a meeting of his brother Excise-
men in Dumfries, Burns being called upon for a song, handed these verses
extempore to the president, written on the back of a letter. That account
(which was earliest given to the public) nearly tallies with the following
passage in a letter of Burns addressed to the General Supervisor of Excise
at Edinburgh : " Mr Mitchell mentioned to you a ballad which I composed
and sung at one of his Excise-court dinners, here it is ' The deil's awa wi'
th' Exciseman,' Tune, Madam. Cossy. .If you honour my ballad by making
it one of your charming bon-vivant effusions, it will secure it undoubted
celebrity" Lockhart's account is very circumstantial, thus: "On 2jth
February 1792, a suspicious-looking brig was discovered in the Sol way Firth,
and Burns was one of the party whom the superintendent conducted to
watch her motions. She got into shallow water, and the officers were
enabled to discover that her crew were numerous, armed, and not likely to
yield without a struggle." The account, which is rather prolix, goes on to
state that Lewars was despatched to Dumfries for a guard of dragoons, and
Burns, getting impatient at Le war's protracted absence, employed himself
by striding among the reeds and shingle humming to himself some ditty,
which afterwards turned out to be the very song in the text that he had
then been in the act of composing. Lewars at length arrived with the
soldiers, and " Burns putting himself at the head of the party, waded,
sword in hand, to the brig, and was the first to board her. The crew lost
heart, and submitted, the vessel was condemned, and with all her arms and
stores, sold by auction next day at Dumfries ; upon which occasion, Burns
thought fit to bid for and secure four carronades, by way of trophy. But
his glee went a step farther : he sent the guns, with a letter, to the French
Assembly, requesting that body to accept of them as a mark of his admira-
tion and respect. The present and its accompaniment were intercepted at
Dover, and this would appear to be the principal circumstance that drew
on Burns the notice of his jealous superiors."]
2 Poems and Songs. H I 79 2 '
THE COUNTRY LASS.
IN simmer, when the hay was mawn,
And corn wav'd green in ilka field,
While claver* blooms white o'er the lea
And roses blaw in ilka bield ! t
Blythe Bessie in the milking shiel,J
Says I'll be wed, come o't what will :
Out spake a dame in wrinkled eild
O' gude advisement comes nae ill.
It's ye hae wooers mony ane,
And lassie, ye're but young ye ken ;
Then wait a wee, and cannie wale||
A routhie butt, a routhie ben ; IT
There's Johnie o' the Buskie-glen,
Fu' is his barn, fu 5 is his byre ;
Tak this frae me, my bonie hen,
It's plenty beets ** the luver's fire.
For Johnie o' the Buskie-glen,
I dinna care a single flie ;
He lo'es sae.weel his craps and kye,
He has nae love to spare for me ;
But blythe's the blink o' Robie's e'e,
And weel I wat he lo'es me dear :
Ae blink o' him I wad na gie
For Buskie-glen and a' his gear.
O thoughtless lassie, life's a faught ;
The canniest gate, the strife is sair ;
But ay fu'-han't is fechtin best, ft
A hungry care's an unco care :
* clover. f sheltered spot. J out-house for keeping milk.
old age. || select. ^f a well-provided house out and in.
' * sustains. tt It is best to fisht with a lull-hand.
/ET. 34.] Poems and Songs. 53
But some will spend and some will spare,
An' wilfu' folk maun hae their will ;
Syne as ye brew, my maiden fair,
Keep mind that ye maun drink the yill.
O gear will buy me rigs o' land,
And gear will buy me sheep and kye ;
But the tender heart o' leesome loove,
The gowd and siller canna buy ;
We may be poor Robie and I
Light is the burden luve lays on ;
Content and loove brings peace and joy
What mair hae Queens upon a throne ?
[The poet has here very successfully adorned his favourite sentiments in
love-matters, and finely contrasted the generous ardour of the young country-
lass with the prudent, yet affectionate counsels of her experienced adviser.]
BESSY AND HER SPINNIN WHEEL.
O LEEZE * me on my spinnin-wheel,
And leeze me on my rock and reel ;
Frae tap to tae that deeds me bien, t
And haps me biel J and warm at e'en,
I'll set me down and sing and spin,
While laigh descends the simmer sun,
Blest wi' content, and milk and meal,
O leeze me on my spinnin-wheel.
On ilka hand the burnies trot,
And meet below my theekit cot ;
The scented birk and hawthorn white,
Across the pool their arms unite,
Alike to screen the birdie's nest,
And little fishes' caller rest ;
* commend me to. t warm. \ comfortable. thatched.
54 Poems and Songs. [1792-
The sun blinks kindly in the biel', *
Where blythe I turn my spinnin-wheel.
On lofty aiks the cushats t wail,
And Echo cons the doolfu' tale ;
The lintwhites % in the hazel braes,
Delighted, rival ither's lays ;
The craik amang the claver|| hay,
The pairtrick whirring o'er the ley,
The swallow jinkin round my shiel,**
Amuse me at my spinnin-wheel.
Wi' sma' to sell and less to buy,
Aboon distress, below envy,
O wha wad leave this humble state,
For a' the pride of a' the great ?
Amid their Hairing, idle toys,
Amid their cumbrous, dinsome joys,
Can they the peace and pleasure feel
Of Bessie at her spinnin-wheel ?
[Comfort, contentment, and industry combined, is here the poet's theme ;
and never was the subject treated with more felicity of expression in
descriptive song.]
FRAGMENTS OF SONG.
No cold approach, no altered mien,
Just what would make suspicion start ;
No pause the dire extremes between,
He made me blest and broke my heart.
[These lines were inserted by Burns to complete the closing stanza of a
song by Miss Cranstoun, who became the second wife of Professor Dugald
Stewart, on 26th July 1790. The title of her song is " The tears I shed
must ever fall."]
* sheltered cot. f wild-pigeons. \ linnets. corncraik.
|| clover. ^T partridge fluttering. ** cottage.
. 34.] Poe.ms and Songs. 55
LOVE FOR LOVE.
ITHERS seek they ken na what,
Features, carriage, and a' that ;
Gie me loove in her I court,
Loove to loove maks a' the sport
Let loove sparkle in her e'e ;
Let her lo'e nae man but me ;
That's the tocher gude I prize,
There the luver's treasure lies.
[Burns has inserted these lines of his own to form the middle portion of a
song in the Tea Table Miscellany, called "Jocky fou and Jenny fain,"
which Johnson has transplanted into the Museum ]
FRAGMENT ON MARIA.
How gracefully Maria leads the dance !
She's life itself : I never saw a foot
So nimble and so elegant. It speaks,
And the sweet whispering Poetry it makes
Shames the musician.
Adriano, or, The first of June.
[This elegant little fragment appears, in the poet's holograph, on the
back of a MS. copy of the "Lament of Mary Queen of Scots" that
apparently had been presented by the author to a lately acquired friend,
Mrs Maria Riddell of Woodley Park, near Dumfries, wife of Mr Walter
Riddell, a younger brother of Captain Riddell of Glenriddell.
The poet seems to have been introduced to this fascinating lady about the
time he came to reside with his family in Dumfries. Her mansion stood
about four miles to the south of Dumfries. She was as yet under twenty
years of age, although a mother, and having a taste for literature and
natural history, she delighted in the society of men of talent. The vivid
genius of Burns soon attracted her attention, and he became a frequent
visitor at Woodley Park.]
56 Poems and Songs. [i79 2 -
SAW YE BONIE LESLEY.
O SAW ye bonie 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 her what she is,
And never made 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 scaith thee,
Or aught that wad belang thee ;
He'd look into thy bonie face,
And say ' I canna wrang thee ! '
The Powers aboon will tent thee,
Misfortune sha'na steer thee ;
Thou'rt like themsel' sae lovely,
That ill they'll ne'er let near thee.
Return again, fair Lesley,
Return to Caledonie !
That we may brag we hae a lass
There's nane again sae bonie.
[The poet communicated the above to his friend and correspondent, Mrs
Dunlop, in a letter dated " Annan Water-foot, 22nd August 1792." He
wrote thus : " Do you know that I am almost in love with an acquaintance
of yours? Almost I said I I am in love, souce over head and ears, deep as
the most unfathomable abyss of the boundless ocean 1
" But let me do justice to the sacred purity of my attachment. The heart-
struck awe, the distant humble approach, the delight we should have in
gazing upon and listening to a messenger of Heaven, appearing in all the
unspotted purity of his celestial home, among the coarse, polluted, far in-
/ET. 34.] Poems and Songs. 57
ferior sons of men, to deliver to them tidings that make their hearts swim in
joy, and their imaginations soar in transport such, so delighting, and so
pure, were the emotions of my soul on meeting the other day with Miss
Lesley Baillie, your neighbour at Mayfield. Mr B., with his two daughters,
accompanied by Mr H. of G., passing through Dumfries a few days ago, on
their way to England, did me the honour of calling on me ; on which I took
my horse though, God knows, I could ill spare the time and accompanied
them fourteen or fifteen miles, and dined and spent the day with theia.
Twas about nine, I think, that I left them, and riding home, I composed the
following ballad, of which you will probably think you have a dear bargain,
as it will cost you another groat of postage. You must know that there is
an old ballad beginning with :
' My bonie Lizzie Baillie, I'll rowe thee in my plaidie,'
so I parodied it as follows, which is literally the first copy."
I'LL MEET THEE ON THE LEA RIG.
WHEN o'er the hill the e'ening star
Tells bughtin time is near, my jo,
And owsen frae the furrow'd field
Return sae dowf and weary O ;
Down by the burn, where birken bucls
Wi' dew are hangin' clear, my jo,
I'll meet thee on the lea-rig,
My ain kind Dearie O.
At midnight hour, in mirkest glen,
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 weary O,
I'll 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 takes the glen
Adown the burn to steer, my jo :
58 Poems and Songs.
Gie me the hour o' gloamiu grey!
It maks my heart sae cheery O,
To meet thee on the lea-rig,
My ain kind Dearie O.
[This song, produced in October 1792, was the first that Burns supplied
for Thomson's Collection. That gentleman had sent him a list of eleven
songs for which he wished to substitute others by Burns, who, in sending
that which forms the text, remarked " Let me tell you that you are too
fastidious in your ideas of songs and ballads : the songs you specify have
all, but one, the faults you remark in them ; but who shall rise and say,
' Go to, I will make a better.' On reading over the Lea-Rig, I immediately
set about trying my hand on it, and after all, I could make nothing more
of it than the following, which, Heaven knows, is poor enough."]
MY WIFE'S A WINSOME WEE THING.
Ayr My Wife's a Wanton Wee Thing."
Chorus She is a winsome wee thing,
She is a handsome wee thing,
She is a lo'esome wee thing,
This dear wee wife o' mine.
I NEVER saw a fairer,
I never lo'ed a dearer,
And neist my heart I'll wear her,
For fear my jewel tine,
She is a winsome, &c.
The warld's wrack we share o't ;
The warstle and the care o't ;
Wi' her I'll blythely bear it,
And think my lot divine.
She is a winsome, &c.
[In communicating those unpretending, yet very pleasing and natural
words, to Thomson, Burns remarked " If a few lines, smooth and pretty,
can be adapted to the tune, it is all you can expect. These were made
extempore to it ; and though, on further study, I might give you something
more profound, yet it might not suit the light-horse gallop of the air so well
as this random clink."]
/ET. 34.] Poems and Songs. 59
HIGHLAND MARY.
Tune " Katherine Ogie."
YE banks and braes and streams around
The castle o' Montgomery !
Green be your woods, and fair your flowers,
Your waters never drumlie :
There Simmer first unfald her robes,
And there the langest tarry ;
For there I took the last Farewell
O' my sweet Highland Mary.
How sweetly bloom'd the gay, green birk,
How rich the hawthorn's blossom,
As underneath their fragrant shade,
I clasp'd her to my bosom !
The golden Hours on angel wings,
Flew o'er me and my Dearie ;
For dear to me, 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,
That nipt my Flower sae early !
Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay.
That wraps my Highland Mary !
O pale, pale now, those rosy lips,
I aft hae kiss'd sae fondly !
And clos'd for ay, the sparkling glance
That dwalt on me sae kindly !
6c Poems and Songs. [i79 2 -
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.
[In sending this to Thomson on i4th November 1792, the bard wrota
thus : " The foregoing song pleases myself, I think it is in my happiest
manner ; you will see at first glance that it suits the air. The subject of
the song is one of the most interesting passages of my youthful days ; and
I own that I would be much flattered to see the verses set to an air which
would insure celebrity. Perhaps, after all, 'tis the still glowing prejudice
of my heart that throws a borrowed lustre over the merits of the
composition."]
THE RIGHTS OF WOMAN.
AN OCCASIONAL ADDRESS
SPOKEN BY MISS FONTENELLE ON HER BENEFIT NIGHT,
NOVEMBER 26, 1792.
WHILE Europe's eye is fix'd on mighty things,
The fate of empires and the 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' intermix'd connection,
One sacred Right of Woman is protection.
The tender flower that lifts its head, elate,
Helpless, must fall before the blasts of fate,
Sunk on the earth, defac'd its lovely form,
Unless your shelter ward th' impending storm.
Our second Right but needless here is caution,
To keep that right inviolate's the fashion ;
Each man of sense has it so full before him,
He'd die before he'd wrong it 'tis decorum,
^ET. 34.] Poems and Songs. 61
There was, indeed, in far less polish'd days,
A time, when rough rude man had naughty ways ;
Would swagger, swear, get 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 gainers)
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 even the Rights of Kings, in low prostration,
Most humbly own 'tis dear, dear admiration !
In that blest sphere alone we live and move ;
There taste that life of life immortal love.
Smiles, glances, sighs, tears, fits, flirtations, airs ;
'Gainst such an host what flinty savage dares,
When awful Beauty joins with all her charms
Who is so rash as rise in rebel arms ?
But truce with kings, and truce with constitutions,
With bloody armaments and revolutions ;
Let Majesty your first attention summon,
Ah ! ca ! ira ! THE MAJESTY OF WOMAN !
[In sending this production the Poet thus wrote : 'To you, madam, on
our humble Dumfries boards, I have been more indebted for entertainment
than ever I was in prouder theatres. Your charms as a woman would insure
applause to the most indifferent actress, and your theatrical talents would
ensure admiration to the plainest figure."]
EPIGRAM ON SEEING MISS FONTENELLE IN
A FAVOURITE CHARACTER.
SWEET na'ivete' of feature,
Simple, wild, enchanting elf,
Not to thee, but thanks to Nature,
Thou art acting but thyself.
62 Poems and Songs. [i?9 2 -
Wert thou awkward, stiff, affected,
Spurning Nature, torturing art ;
Loves and Graces all rejected,
Then indeed thou'd'st act a part.
[The poet added in prose "This, madam, is not the unmeaning or
insidious compliment of the frivolous or interested ; I pay it from the same
honest impulse that the sublime of Nature excites my admiration or her
beauties give me delight."]
EXTEMPORE ON SOME COMMEMORATIONS
OF THOMSON.
DOST thou not rise, indignant shade,
And smile wi' spurning scorn,
When they wha wad hae starved thy life,
Thy senseless turf adorn?
Helpless, alane, thou clamb the brae,
Wi' meikle honest toil,
And claught th' unfading garland there
Thy sair-won, rightful spoil.
And wear it there ! and call aloud
This axiom undoubted
Would thou hae Nobles' patronage?
First learn to live without it !
To whom hae much, more shall be given,
Is every Great man's faith ;
But he, the helpless, needful wretch,
Shall lose the mite he hath.
[This was first published in the Edinburgh Gazetteer in December 179?,
and the poet enclosed a copy of it to Mr Graham of Fintry.]
. 34.] Poems and Songs. 63
AULD ROB MORRIS.
THERE'S Auld Rob Morris that wons in yon glen,
He's the King o' gude fellows, and wale o' auld men ;
He has gowd in his coffers, he has owsen and kine,
And ae bonie lass, his dautie and mine.
She's fresh as the morning, the fairest in May ;
She's sweet as the ev'ning amang the new hay ;
As blythe and as artless as the lambs on the lea,
And dear to my heart as the light to my e'e.
But oh ! she's an Heiress, auld Robin's a laird,
And my daddie 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, but delight brings me nane ;
The night 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.
had she but been of a lower degree,
1 then might hae hop'd she wad smil'd upon me !
O how past descriving had then been my bliss,
As now my distraction nae words can express.
DUNCAN GRAY.
DUNCAN GRAY cam' here to woo,
Ha, ha, the wooing o't,
On blythe Yule-night when we were fou,
Ha, ha, the wooing o't,
Maggie coost her head fu' high,
Look'd asklent and unco skeigh,
Gart poor Duncan stand abeigh ;
Ha, ha, the wooing o't.
64 Poems and Songs, [i79 2 -
Duncan fleech'd* and Duncan pray'd ;
Ha, ha, the wooing o't,
Meg was deaf as Ailsa craig,
Ha, ha, the wooing o't :
Duncan sigh'd baith out and in,
Grat t his e'en baith bleer't \ an' blin',
Spak o' lowpin o'er a linn ;
Ha, ha, the wooing o't.
Time and Chance are but a tide,
Ha, ha, the wooing o't,
Slighted love is sair to bide,
Ha, ha, the wooing o't :
Shall I like a fool, quoth he,
For a haughty hizzie die ?
She may gae to France for ma J
Ha, ha, the wooing o't.
How it comes let doctors tell,
Ha, ha, the wooing o't ;
Meg grew sick, as he grew hale,
Ha, ha, the wooing o't.
Something in her bosom wrings,
For relief a sigh she brings :
And oh ! her een they spak sic things 1
Ha, ha, the wooing o't.
Duncan was a lad o' grace,
Ha, ha, the wooing o't :
Maggie's was a piteous case,
Ha, ha, the wooing o't :
Duncan could na be her death,
Swelling Pity smoor'd his wrath ;
Now they're crouse and canty baith,
Ha, ha, the wooing o't.
* supplicated. t cried. \ red and inflamed.
/ET. 34.] Poems and Songs. 65
[Few of Burns's songs acquired a more rapid popularity than this; it is
so thoroughly pointed and natural throughout ; and the melody is so
familiar to everybody that the very children learned the language of the
ballad. "Spak o' lowpin o'er a linn," wrote the Hon. Andrew Erskineto
the poet, after perusing the song, " is a line of itself that should make you
immortal."]
HERE'S A HEALTH TO THEM THAT'S AWA.
HERE'S a health to them that's awa,
Here's a health to them that's awa ;
And wha winna wish gude luck to our cause,
May never gude luck be their fa' !
It's gude to be merry and wise,
It's gude to be honest and true ;
It's gude to support Caledonia's cause,
And bide by the buff and the blue.
Here's a health to them that's awa,
Here's a health to them that's awa,
Here's a health to Charlie the chief o' the clan,
Altho' that his band be but sma' ! l
May Liberty meet wi' success !
May Prudence protect her frae evil !
May tyrants and tyranny tine i' the mist,
And wander their way to the devil !
Here's a health to them that's awa,
Here's a health to them that's awa ;
Here's a health to Tammie, the Norlan' laddie,
That lives at the lug o' the law 2
Here's freedom to them that wad read,
Here's freedom to them that would write,
1 Charles James Fox. The luff and blue was the Whig livery.
2 Hon. Thos. Erskine, afterwards Lord Erskine.
I'J E
66 Poems and Songs* [i79 2 -
There's nane ever fear'd that the truth should be heard,
But they whom the truth would indite. 1
Here's a health to them that's awa,
An' here's to them that's awa !
Here's to Maitland and Wycombe,let wha does na like ''em
Be built in a hole in the wa, 2
Here's timmer that's red at the heart,
Here's fruit that is sound at the core ;
And may he that wad turn the buff and blue coat
Be turn'd to the back o' the door.
Here's a health to them that's awa,
Here's a health to them that's awa ;
Here's chieftain M'Leod, a chieftain worth gowd,
Tho' bred amang mountains o' snaw, 3
Here's friends on baith sides o' the firth,
And friends on baith sides o' the Tweed ;
And wha wad betray old Albion's right,
May they never eat of her bread !
[This noble, patriotic effusion was composed about the close of 1792, and
forwarded to the Edinburgh Gazetteer for publication.
Captain Wm. Johnstone, the proprietor of the Gazetteer, was imprisoned
by the Government party on Februaiy i6th, 1793, under a treasonable
charge. Burns became a subscriber to that paper on i8th November 1792.
In his letter, he says : " I have just read your prospectus. If you go on in
your paper with the same spirit, it will, beyond all comparison, be the first
composition of the kind in Europe .... Go on, sir 1 Lay bare with un-
daunted heart and steady hand that horrid mass of corruption called politics
and state-craft. Dare to draw in their native colours those 'calm-thinking
villains whom no faith can fire,' whatever be the shibboleth of their
pretended party."]
1 The word has been explained by Chambers as the Scots word " indict,"
to accuse, as by a public prosecutor. On the other hand, we prefer the
common English meaning to dictate or prescribe dogmas which must be
accepted as truth.
3 Maitland and Wycombe were two distinguished Liberals of the day.
This verse is not in Cromek's copy, and first appeared in the Kilmarnock
edition, 1871.
8 M'Leod of Dunvegan, Isle of Skye, M P. for the county of Inverness,
a distinguished Reformer.
MT. 34.] Poems and Songs. 67
A TIPPLING BALLAD
ON THE DUKE OF BRUNSWICK'S BREAKING UP HIS
CAMP, AND THE DEFEAT OF THE AUSTRIANS, BY
DUMOURIER, NOV. I7Q2.
WHEN Princes and Prelates,
And hot-headed zealots,
A' Europe had set in a low, a low,
The poor man lies down,
Nor envies a crown,
And comforts himself as he dow, as he dow,
And comforts himself as he dow.
The black-headed eagle,
As keen as a beagle,
He hunted o'er height and o'er howe, o'er howe,
In the braes o' Gemappe,
He fell in a trap,
E'en let him come out as he dow, dow, dow,
E'en let him come out as he dow.
* * *
But truce with commotions,
And new-fangled notions,
A bumper, I trust you'll allow ;
Here's George our good king,
And Charlotte his queen,
And lang may they ring as they dow, dow, dow,
And lang may they ring as they dow.
[In a letter addressed by the bard to Mr Graham of Fintry on sth
January 1793 reference is thus made to this ballad : "As to France, I was
her enthusiastic votary in the beginning of the business. But when she
came to show her old avidity for conquest, in annexing Savoy, &<x, to her
dominions and invading the rights of Holland, I altered my sentiments. A
tippling ballad, which I made on the Prince of Brunswick's breaking up
his camp, and sung one convivial evening, I shall likewise send you,
scaled up."]
63 Poems and Songs. [i793
A.D. 1793.
IN Politics if thou would'st mix,
And mean thy fortunes be ;
Bear this in mind, be deaf and blind,
Let great folk hear and see.
[The original of this epigram was inscribed on one of the window-panes
of the Globe Inn, Dumfries. On 6th December 1792, the poet had thus
written to his Ayrshire correspondent, Mrs Dunlop : " We in this country
here have many alarms of the Reforming or rather the Republican spirit of
your part of the kingdom. Indeed we are a good deal in commotion our-
selves. For me, I am a placeman, you know ; a very humble one indeed,
Heaven knows, but still so much as to gag me. What my private senti-
ments are, you will find out without an interpreter." He transcribed for
her perusal his recently composed Address on "The Rights of Women,"
and closed his letter thus : " I shall soon have the honour of receiving your
criticisms in person at Dunlop."
Burns accordingly visited Ayrshire in December, and spent four days
with Mrs Dunlop. H also sojourned a night or two with his friends in the
vale of Afton, and at Sanquhar. During his absence at this period " some
envious, malicious devil raised a little demur concerning his political
principles." Such is his own account in a letter addressed to Mrs Dunlop
on 3ist December, which he concludes thus : " I have set henceforth, a
seal on my lips as to these unlucky politics ; although to you I must breathe
my sentiments." In his letter to Mr Erskine of Mar, in April following, he
expressly states that but for the kind intercession of Mr Graham of Fintry
with the Board of Excise, he would have been deprived of his office. He
also added these words, which so well illustrate the satirical lines which
form the present text : " One of our supervisors-general, a Mr Corbet, was
instructed to enquire on the spot, and to document me that my business
was to act, not to think ; and that, whatever might be men and measures, it
was for me to be silent and obedient."
So early as on sth January 1793, his mind was so far relievsd concerning
this "political blast, which threatened his welfare," as to enable him to give
Mrs Dunlop this assurance :" Although the Board had made me the
subject of their animadversions, yet I have the pleasure of informing you
that all is set to rights in that quarter." Not altogether "to rights" we
suspect ; for to Mr Erskine he appended the following qualification ; "only
I understand that all hopes of my getting officially forward are blasted."]
&T. 34-] Poems and Songs. 69
POORTITH CAULD AND RESTLESS LOVE.
Tune " Cauld Kail in Aberdeen."
O POORTITH* cauld, and restless love,
Ye wrack my peace between ye ;
Yet poortith a' I could forgive,
An' 'twere na for my Jeanie.
Chorus O why should Fate sic pleasure have,
Life's dearest bands untwining ?
Or why sae sweet a flower as love
Depend on Fortune's shining ?
The warld's wealth, when I think OP,
It's pride and a' the lave o't ;
O fie on silly coward man,
That he should be the ?lave o't 1
O why, &c.
Her e'en, sae bonie blue betray
How she repays my passion ;
But prudence is her o'erword t ay,
She talks o' rank and fashion.
O why, &c.
O wha can prudence think upon,
And sic a lassie by him ?
wha can prudence think upon,
And sae in love as I am ?
O why, &c.
How blest the simple cotter's fate !
He woo's his artless dearie ;
* poverty. f burden of her talk.
70 Poems and Songs. f 1793.
The silly bogles, wealth and state,
Can never make him eerie.*
O why, &c.
[This fine song, produced early in January 1793, was prompted by the
charms of Jean Lorimer. Her father, as we have seen, was a farmer and
publican at Kemmis Ha!, on Nithside, about two miles below Ellisland,
who for some time bore the reputation of being in affluent circumstances.
He was, however, a practised smuggler of the exciseable commodities he
dealt in, and ultimately became a bankrupt.
Chambers gives what he terms the story of " Chloris " (the poetical name
by which Burns addressed this flaxen-haired syren). He tells us that Miss
Lorimer in March 1793, while yet under eighteen years old, contracted a
hasty run-away marriage with a young wild-rake farmer from the county of
Cumberland, who had taken the farm of Barnhill, near Moffat. He adds
that the pair had not been many weeks united, when her husband (Whelp-
dale, by name) was forced by his debts to leave Scotland and abandon his
wife.
Burns's note to the song " Craigieburn Wood" styles her " Miss Lorimer,
afterwards a Mrs Whelpdale ; " so that the date assigned by Mr Chambers
for her marriage may be correct ; but there exists the most convincing proof
that she was the heroine of the present song, composed two months prior to
her so-called marriage. And moreover, in the month of April following,
the poet tells Thomson that he has vowed to make a song to the tune of
Cauld Kail on the lady he attempted to celebrate in the words " O Poor-
tith Cauld." This he accordingly performed in August thereafter.]
BRAW LADS O' GALLA WATER.
BRAW, braw lads on Yarrow-braes,
. They rove amang 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 loe him better ;
And I'll be his, and he'll be mine,
The bonie lad o' Galla Water.
* dismayed.
&T. 34-1 Poems and Songs. 71
Altho' his daddie was nae laird,
And tho' I hae na meikle tocher,
Yet rich in kindest, truest love,
We'll tent our flocks by Galla Water.
It ne'er was wealth, it ne'er was wealth,
That coft contentment, peace, or pleasure :
The bands and bliss o' mutual love,
O that's the chiefest warld's treasure.
[This favourite lyric was composed in the beginning of January 1793.
The author became acquainted with the pastoral districts therein referred
to, in course of his Border tour in May 1787.
The ancient song, which was supplanted by Burns's version of " Gala
Water," possessed a certain kind of merit, as the following specimen will
shew :
Chorus Braw, braw lads o' Gala Water,
Bonie lads o' Gala Water ;
Louden lads will ne'er compare
Wi' the braw lads o' Gala Water.
Tho 1 barley rigs are fair to see,
Flocks o' sheep are meikle better ;
And oats will shake on a windy day,
When the lambs will play by Gala Waicr,
Braw, braw lads, &c.
Louden lads are black wi' reek,
Tevi'dale lads are little better :
But let them a* say what they will,
The gree gaes ay down Gala Water,
Braw, braw lads, &c.
There's Blindilee, and Torwoodlee,
And Galashiels that rides the water ;
But young Ha'tree, he bears the gree
Of a' the Pringles o' Gala Water,
Braw, braw lads, &c.
What the tourist by the Waverley route now beholds as the extensive
manufacturing town of Galashiels was, in the days referred to in the old
song, only a few straggling thatched houses planted on the Selkirk side of
the water, inhabited by hand-loom weavers, wool-dressers, and dysters.
The Laird of Gala Hill, or " Gudeman of Galashiels " as he was termed,
was, in the time of Mary Queen of Scots, a stubborn papist, who was fre-
q.jcncly under the discipline of the Reforming p.Mthorities. His surname
72 Poems and Songs. [i?93
was Pringle, which was also the name of all the neighbouring lairds
mentioned in the closing stanza of the ancient song ; and it still is the pre-
vailing surname of the natives of Galashiels-l
SONNET WRITTEN ON THE AUTHOR'S
BIRTHDAY,
ON HEARING A THRUSH SING IN HIS MORNING WALK.
" I made the following sonnet the other day, which has been so fortunate
as to obtain the approbation of no ordinary judge our friend Syme."
Letter to Alexander Cunningham, February zoth, 1793.
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 furrowed brow.
So in lone Poverty's dominion drear,
Sits meek Content with light, unanxious heart ;
Welcomes the rapid moments, bids them part,
Nor asks if they bring ought to hope or fear.
I thank thee. Author of this opening day !
Thou whose bright sun now gilds yon orient skies !
Riches denied, thy boon was purer joys
What wealth could never give nor take away !
Yet come, thou child of poverty and care,
The mite high Heav'n bestow'd, that mite with thee I'll
share.
[Amid the surging of the political emotions of that period, Burns, like
the sagacious John o' Badenyon, " tuned his pipe and pleased himsel'"
with a song or a sonnet. In the letter which is partly quoted in our head-
ing, he asks his correspondent, " Are you deeply engaged in the mazes of
jET. 35.] Poems and Songs. 73
the 'law, the mysteries of love, or in the pr '/found wisdom of modern
politics? Curse on the word which ended the period I
" Qrtere. What is Politics? Answer. Politics is a science wherewith, by
means of nefarious cunning and hypocritical pretence, we govern civil
politics for the emolument of ourselves and our adherents.
" Quere. What is a Minister? Answer. A minister is an unprincipled
fellow who, by the influence of hereditary or acquired wealth by superior
abilities, or by a lucky conjuncture of circumstances, obtains a principal
place in the administration of the affairs of government.
"Quere. What is a Patriot ? Answer. A patriot is an individual exactly
of the same description as a minister, only out of place."
In the copy of this sonnet enclosed to Cunningham, now lying before us,
there is not the slightest variation from that printed by Currie.]
LORD GREGORY.
O MIRK, mirk is this midnight hour,
And loud the tempest's roar ;
A waefu' wanderer seeks thy tower.
Lord Gregory, ope thy door.
An' exile frae her father's ha',
And a' for sake o' thee ;
At least some pity on me shaw,
If love it may na be.
Lord Gregory, mind'st thou not the grove
By bonie Irwine side,
Where first I own'd that virgin love
I lang, lang had denied.
How aften didst thou pledge and vow,
Thou wad for ay be mine !
And my fond heart, itse? sae true,
It ne'er mistrusted thine.
Hard is thy heart, Lord Gregory,
And flinty is thy breast :
Thou bolt of Heaven that flashest by,
O, wilt thou bring me rest !
74 Poems and Songs. D793-
Ye mustering thunders from above,
Your willing victim see ;
But spare and pardon my fause Love,
His wrangs to Heaven and me.
[This pathetic ballad (founded on the ancient one called " The Lass of
Lochryan") was transmitted to Thomson on 26th January 1793. The copy
we print from, which shews a few delicate variations, is a touching manu-
script of the bard, written at Brow, on 7th July 1796, exactly fourteen days
before his death. His Edinburgh friend, Alexander Cunningham, had
requested to be favoured with a copy of " Lord Gregory," and accordingly
the obliging poet made an effort to transcribe it in that melancholy letter
which Currie first gave to the public " Alas, my friend, I fear the voice of
the bard will soon be heard among you no more. . . . You actually would
not know me if you saw me. Pale, emaciated, and so feeble as occasionally
to need help from my chair, my spirits fled fled ! . . . What way, in the
name of thrift, shall I maintain myself, and keep a horse in country quarters,
with a wife and five children at home, on 50 ? "
It will be remembered that the ballad in the text was a favourite one with
the author. When he visited Lord Selkirk at St Mary's Isle in July 1793,
in company with Mr Syme that gentleman, in his well-written narrative of
the tour, says : " Urbani, the Italian, sung us many Scottish songs accom-
panied with instrumental music. The two young ladies of Selkirk sung
also. We had the old song of Lord Gregory, which I asked for to have an
opportunity of calling on Burns to recite his ballad to that tune. He did
recite it, and such was the effect, that a dead silence ensued. It was such
a silence as a mind of feeling naturally preserves, when touched with that
enthusiasm which banishes every other thought but the comtemplation of
the sympathy produced. Burns's Lord Gregory is in my opinion a most
beautiful and affecting ballad. The most fastidious critic may perhaps say
some of the sentiments and imagery are of too elevated a kind for such a
style of composition, for instance, ' Thou bolt of heaven that flashes! by,'
and ' ye mustering thunders,' &c., but this is a cold-blooded objection, which
will be said rather than felt"}
WANDERING WILLIE.
First Version.
HERE awa, there awa, wandering Willie,
Now tired with wandering, haud awa hame ;
Come to my bosom, my ae only dearie,
And tell me thou bring'st me my Willie the same.
MT. 35.] Poems and Songs. 7$
Loud blew the cauld winter winds at our parting ;
It was na the blast brought the tear in my e'e :
Now welcome the Simmer, and welcome my Willie,
The Simmer to Nature, my Willie to me.
Ye hurricanes rest in the cave o' your slumbers,
O how your wild horrors a lover alarms !
Awaken ye breezes, row gently ye billows,
And waft my dear laddie ance mair to my arms.
But if he's forgotten his faithfullest Nannie,
O still flow between us, thou wide roaring main ;
May I never see it, may I never trow it,
But, dying, believe that my Willie's my ain !
[This fine lyric was sent to Thomson in March 1793, with the remark :
" I leave it to you, my dear sir, to determine whether the above, or the old
' Thro' the lang muir ' be the best."
There has been a good deal of variegated surmise regarding the heroine-
ship of this effusion, some contending for Clarinda, and others for Mrs
Walter Riddell. We consider that there is not the slightest ground for
connecting the name of the latter with it, and are content to hold that the
old song of Wandering Willie, recorded in Herd's second volume, p. 140,
was quite sufficient in itself to suggest the lines Xn the text to the muse oi
Burns. We here annex the original words :
Here awa, there awa, here awa, Willie,
Here awa, there awa, here awa hame;
Lang have I sought thee, dear I have bought thee,
Now I hae gotten my Willie again.
Thro' the lang muir I have follow'd my Willie,
Thro' the lang muir I have follow'd him hame ;
Whatever betide us, nought shall divide us ;
Love now rewards all my sorrow and pain.
Here awa, there awa, here awa Willie,
Here awa, there awa, here awa hame,
Come love, believe me, nothing can grieve ms,
Ilka thing pleases while Willie's at hame.}
76 Poems and Songs. [i?93
WANDERING WILLIE.
Revised Version.
HERE awa, there awa, wandering Willie,
Here awa, there awa, haud awa hame ;
Come to my bosom, my ain only dearie,
Tell me thou bring'st me my Willie the same.
Winter winds blew loud and cauld at our parting,
Fears for my Willie brought tears to 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 mair to my arms.
But oh, if he's faithless, and minds na his Nannie,
Flow still between us, thou wide roaring main !
May I never see it, may I never trow it.
But, dying, believe that my Willie's my ain.
OPEN THE DOOR TO ME, OH.
IRISH SONG ALTERED BY BURNS.
OH, open the door, some pity to shew,
Oh, open the door to me, oh,
Tho' thou hast been false, I'll ever prove true,
Oh, open the door to me, oh.
Cauld is the blast upon my pale cheek,
But caulder thy love for me, oh :
The frost that freezes the life at my heart,
Is nought to my pains frae thee, oh.
/ET. 35.] Poems ctnd Songs. 77
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 the pale corse on the plain, oh :
" My true love !" she cried, and sank down by his side,
Never to rise again, oh.
[Carlyle refers to one of the couplets of this song thus : " We see that in
this man there was the gentleness, the trembling pity of a woman, with the
deep earnestness, the force and passionate ardour of a hero. Tears lie in
him, and consuming fire ; as lightning lurks in the drops of the summer
cloud. ... It is needless to multiply examples of his graphic power and
clearness of sight. One trait of the finest sort we select from multitudes of
such among his songs. It gives, in a single line, to the saddest feeling, the
saddest environment and local habitation :
" The wan Moon is setting behind the white wave,
A nd Time is setting -with -me, O ;
False friends, false love, farewell ! for mair
I'll ne'er trouble them nor thee, O."]
LOVELY YOUNG JESSIE.
TRUE hearted was he, the sad swain o' the Yarrow,
And fair are the maids on the banks of the Ayr ;
But by the sweet side o' the Nith's winding river,
Are lovers as faithful, and maidens as fair :
To equal young JESSIE seek Scotland all over ;
To equal young JESSIE you seek it in vain,
Grace, beauty, and elegance fetter her lover,
And maidenly modesty fixes the chain.
Fresh is the rose in the gay, dewy morning,
And sweet is the lily, at evening close ;
But in the fair presence o' lovely young JESSIE,
Unseen is the lily, unheeded the rose.
78 Poems and Songs. [J793-
Love sits in her smile, a wizard ensnaring;
Enthron'd in her een he delivers his law :
And still to her charms SHE alone is a stranger ;
Her modest demeanor's the jewel of a'.
[Thomson received this contribution in March 1793, with a note from the
author, thus : " I send a song on a celebrated toast in this country to suit
the tune Bonie Dundee" The lady was Jessie Staig, second daughter of
the Provost of Dumfries, who afterwards married Major William Miller, one
of the sons of the poet's former landlord. About eighteen months after this
song was composed, Burns made her the subject of a complimentary
Epigram, on her recovery from fever. Alas ! after a very brief married life
she sunk into a decline, and was laid in Dumfries Church-yard to sleep after
life's fitful fever, in March 1801, at the untimely age of twenty-six.]
MEG O' THE MILL.
O KEN ye what Meg o' the Mill has gotten,
An ken ye what Meg o' the Mill has gotten ?
She's gotten a coof* wi' a clautet o' siller,
And broken the heart o' the barley Miller.
The Miller was strapping the Miller was ruddy ;
A heart like a lord, and a hue like a lady ;
The laird was a widdifu', bleerit || knurl ; *[f
She's left the gude fellow, and taen the churl.
The Miller he hecht** her a heart leal and loving,
The laird did address her wi' matter mair moving,
A fine pacing-horse wi' a clear chained bridle,
A whip by her side, and a bonie side-saddle.
O wae on the siller, it is sae prevailing
And wae on the love that is fixed on a mailen !
A tocher's nae word in a true lover's parl,
But gie me my love, and a fig for the warl !
* silly person. f hoard. } tall and powerful. twisted,
jj dim-visaged. TJ dwarfed, but strong. ** offered.
^ T - 35-1 Poems and Songs. 79
[The poet, in reply to some of Thomson's objections to this song, thus
wrote: "My song, ' Ken ye what Meg o' the Mill has gotten?' phases
me so much, that I cannot try my hand at another song to the same air; so
I shall not attempt it. I know you will laugh at this ; but ilka man wears
his belt his ain gate." About the same time Burns forwarded to Johnson
a very humorous song bearing the same title, to which we will next
introduce the reader.]
MEG O' THE MILL.
Another Version
O KEN ye what Meg o' the Mill has gotten,
An' ken ye what Meg o' the Mill has gotten ?
A braw new naig wi' the tail o' a rottan,
And that's what Meg o' the Mill has gotten.
O ken ye what Meg o' the Mill loes dearly,
An' ken ye what Meg o' the Mill loes dearly ?
A dram o' gude strunt * in a morning early,
And that's what Meg o' the Mill loes dearly.
O ken ye how Meg o' the Mill was married,
An' ken ye how Meg o' the Mill was married?
The priest he was oxter'd,t the dark he was carried,
And that's how Meg o' the Mill was married.
O ken ye how Meg o' the Mill was bedded,
An ken ye how Meg o' the Mill was bedded ?
The groom gat sae fu' } he fell awald \ beside it,
And that's how Meg o' the Mill was bedded.
[This song presents as graphic a picture of real life as Tenkrs ever
painted.]
strong liquor. t held up by an assistant at each arm-pit.
| doubled up helpless.
8o Poems and Songs. ['793-
THE SOLDIER'S RETURN.
Air "The Mill, mill, O."
WHEN wild war's deadly blast was blawn,
And gentle peace returning,
Wi' mony a sweet babe fatherless,
And mony a widow mourning ;
I left the lines and tented field,
Where lang I'd been a lodger,
My humble knapsack a' my wealth,
A poor and honest sodger.
A leal, light heart was in my breast,
My hand unstain'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 bonie glen,
Where early life 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 dwelling !
And turn'd me round to hide the flood
That in my e'en was swelling.
Wi' alter'd voice, quoth I, Sweet lass,
Sweet as yon hawthorn's blossom,
O ! happy, happy may he be,
That's dearest to thy bosom :
My purse is light, I've far to gang,
And fain would be thy lodger ;
/ET. 35.] Poems and Songs. 8r
I've serv'd my king and country lang
Take pity on a sodger.
Sae wistfully she gaz'd on me,
And lovelier was than ever ;
Quo' she, A sodger ance I lo'ed,
Forget him shall I never :
Our humble cot, and hamely 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'd like a rose-
Syne pale like ony lily ;
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,
I 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 faithfu' sodger lad,
Thou'rt welcome to it dearly !
For gold the merchant ploughs the main,
The farmer ploughs the manor ;
But glory is the sodger's prize,
The sodger's wealth is honor :
The brave poor sodger ne'er despise,
Nor count him as a stranger ;
III. F
82 Poems and Song*. [i793-
Remember he's his country stay,
In day and hour of danger.
[This charming ballad, destined to become so widely popular, was sent to
Thomson early in April 1793, without a remark from the author, so far as
appears in the preserved correspondence.]
3MD, 1793,
THE TRUE LOYAL NATIVES.
" At this period of our poet's life, when private animosity was made the
ground of private quarrel, the following foolish verses were sent as an attack
on Burns and his friends for their political opinions.
THE LOYAL NATIVES' VERSES.
"Ye Sons of Sedition, give ear to my song,
Let Syme, Burns, and Maxwell pervade every throng,
With Cracken the attorney and Mundell the quack,
Send Willie, the monger, to hell with a smack.
" These lines having been handed over the table to Burns, at a convivial
meeting, he instantly indorsed the subjoined reply." Reliques, p. 168.
Ye true " Loyal Natives " attend to my song,
In uproar and riot rejoice the night long ;
From Envy and Hatred your core is exempt,
But where is your shield from the darts of Contempt !
[The " Loyal Native Club " of the Burgh of Dumfries was formed on i8th
January 1793, " for preserving the Peace, Liberty, and Property, and for
supporting the Laws and Constitution of the Country." The president of
the Association was Commissary Goldie ; and Mr Francis Sprott, town-clerk,
acted as its secretary.
ON COMMISSARY GOLDIE'S BRAINS.
LORD, to account who dares thee call,
Or e'er dispute thy pleasure ?
Else why, within so thick a wall,
Enclose so poor a treasure ?
[This sarcasm displays the poet's manner of throwing " the darts of con-
tempt " on the whole core of Loyal Natives. " When the Head is sick, the
whole body is full of troubte."]
. 35.] Poems and Songs. 83
LINES INSCRIBED IN A LADY'S POCKET
ALMANAC.
GRANT me, indulgent Heaven, that I may live,
To see the miscreants feel the pains they give ;
Deal Freedom's sacred treasures free as air,
Till Slave and Despot be but things that were.
THANKSGIVING FOR A NATIONAL VICTORY.
YE hypocrites ! are these your pranks ?
To murder men, and give God thanks !
Desist, for shame ! proceed no further,
God wont accept your thanks for MURTHER !
LINES ON THE COMMEMORATION OF
RODNEY'S VICTORY.
INSTEAD of a song, boys, I'll give you a toast ;
Here's to the memory of those we have lost !
That we lost, did I say? nay, by Heav'n, that vtz found;
For their fame it will last while the world goes round.
The next in succession Pll give you 's THE KING !
Whoe'er would betray him, on high may he swing !
And here's the grand fabric, the free CONSTITUTION,
As built on the base of our great Revolution !
And longer with Politics not to be cramm'd,
Be ANARCHY curs'd, and be TYRANNY damn'd !
And who would to LIBERTY e'er prove disloyal,
May his son be a hangman and himself his first trial !
[Admiral Rodney's great victory over the French fleet, off Dominica, in
the West Indies, was so far back as April 12, 1782, and the Admiral, who
was created a Peer in consequence, died in 1792. It was the custom in
loyal Dumfries and elsewhere to commemorate that victory year after
year, and Burns did not shrink to join in such manifestations, whatever
ucre his real opinions regarding aggressive warfare.]
84 Poems and Songs. [i793-
KIRK AND STATE EXCISEMEN.
YE men of wit and wealth, why all this sneering
'Gainst poor Excisemen ? Give the cause a hearing :
What are your Landlord's rent-rolls ? taxing ledgers !
What Premiers ? what ev'n Monarchs ? mighty
G augers !
Nay, what are Priests ? (those seeming godly wise-men,)
What are they, pray, but Spiritual Excisemen !
THE RAPTURES OF FOLLY.
THOU greybeard, old Wisdom ! may boast of thy treasures ;
Give me with old Folly to live ;
I grant thee thy calm-blooded, time-settled pleasures,
But Folly has raptures to give.
[The first of these Epigrams was inscribed by the poet on a window at
the King's Arms Tavern, Dumfries ; and the latter was similarly inscribed
on a window of the Globe Tavern there. They speak for their own parent-
age, and tell their own story.]
EXTEMPORE REPLY TO AN INVITATION.
THE King's most humble servant, I
Can scarcely spare a minute ;
But I'll be wi' you by an' by ;
Or else the Deil's be in it.
[The above answer to an invitation was written extempore on a leaf
torn from his Excise-book.]
GRACE AFTER MEAT.
L D, we thank, and thee adore,
For temporal gifts we little merit ;
At present we will ask no more
Let William Hislop give the spirit.
ET. 35.] Poems and Songs* 5
GRACE BEFORE AND AFTER MEAT.
O LORD, when hunger pinches sore,
Do thou stand us in stead,
And send us, from thy bounteous store,
A tup or wether head ! Amen.
O LORD, since we have feasted thus,
Which we so little merit,
Let Meg now take away the flesh,
And Jock bring in the spirit ! Amen.
[These " Graces " appear to have been emitted extemporaneously at the
poet's favourite "howff" the Globe Tavern, of which Wm. Hislop was
landlord.]
IMPROMPTU ON GENERAL DUMOURIER'S
DESERTION FROM THE FRENCH
REPUBLICAN ARMY.
YOU'RE welcome to Despots, Dumourier ;
You're welcome to Despots, Dumourier :
How does Dampiere do ?
Aye, and Bournonville too ?
Why did they not come along with you, Dumourier?
I will fight France with you, Dumourier ;
I will fight France with you, Dumourier;
I will fight France with you,
I will take my chance with you
By my soul, I'll dance with you, Dumourier.
Then let us fight about, Dumourier ;
Then let us fight about, Dumourier ;
86 Poems and Songs. [i?93
Then let us fight about,
Till Freedom's spark be out,
Then we'll be d d, no doubt, Dumourier
[Dumourier, after achieving important triumphs as a General in the army
of the French Republic, somewhat unexpectedly veered round in favour of
the interests of Monarchy, and was only prevented by fortuitous circum-
stances from betraying his troops into the enemy's hands. Dampiere and
Bournonville, referred to in the opening stanzas, were respectively a brother
General and an emissary of the Convention, whom he had calculated on per-
suading to follow his example ; but in this he was disappointed. Dumourier
deserted and made his escape from France, on sth April 1793-]
THE LAST TIME I CAME O'ER THE MOOR.
THE last time I came o'er the moor,
And left Maria's dwelling,
What throes, what tortures passing cure,
Were in my bosom swelling :
Condemned to drag a hopeless chain,
And yet in secret languish ;
To feel a fire in every vein,
Yet dare not speak my anguish.
The wretch of love unseen, unknown,
I fain my crime would cover :
The bursting sigh, th' unweeting groan,
Betray the guilty lover.
I know my doom must be despair,
Thou wilt nor canst relieve me ;
But oh, Maria, hear my prayer,
For Pity's sake, forgive me !
The music of thy tongue I heard,
Nor wist while it enslav'd me ;
I saw thine eyes, yet nothing fear'd,
Till fear no more had sav'd me :
^ET 35.] Poems and Songs. 87
The unwary sailor thus, aghast,
The wheeling torrent viewing,
'Mid circling horrors yields at last
To overwhelming ruin.
[This finely expressed but rather daring appeal in lyrical form to Mrs
Walter Riddell, was forwarded to George Thomson in April 1793.
Chambers remarks thus of the present song: "The sentiments are not
pleasing. They hint at a discreditable passion, in which no pure mind could
possibly sympathize ; therefore they must be held as unfitted for song. It
can scarcely be doubted that they were suggested by some roving sensations
of the bard towards the too-witching Mrs Riddell ; though it is equally
probable that these bore no great proportion to the mere metier of the artist
aiming at a certain literary effect."]
BLYTHE HAE I BEEN ON YON HILL.
BLYTHE hae I been on yon hill,
As the lambs before me ;
Careless ilka thought and free,
As the breeze flew o'er me ;
Now nae langer 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 nocht but glow'r.
Sighing, dumb despairing !
If she winna ease the thraws
In my bosom swelling,
Underneath the grass-green sod,
Soon maun be my dwelling.
[The name " Lesley" will lead the reader to understand that Miss Lesley
Baillie, already referred to in connection with the song, " O saw ye bonie
Lesley," is also the subject of these tender verses, which flow so exquisitely
to the melody. Of this young lady and her sister Burns had thus written
88 Poems and Songs. [i793-
In July 1788 : " I declare one day I had the honour of dining at Mr
Baillie's, I was almost in the predicament of the children of Israel, when
they could not look on Moses' face for the glory that shone in it when he
descended from mount Horeb."
LOGAN BRAES.
"25th June 1793. Have you ever, my dear sir, felt your bosom ready to
burst with indignation, on reading of, or seeing how, the mighty villains
who divide kingdom against kingdom, desolate provinces, and lay nations
waste, out of the wantonness of ambition, or often from still more ignoble
passions? In a mood of this kind to-day, I recollected the air of Logan
Water, and it occurred to me that its querulous melody probably had its
origin from the plaintive indignation of some swelling, suffering heart, fired
at the tyrannic strides of some Public Destroyer, and overwhelmed with
private distress the consequence of a country's ruin.
" If I have done anything at all like justice to my feelings, the following
song, composed in three-quarters of an hour's lucubrations in my elbow-
chair, ought to have some merit." (Letter to Thomson.)
O LOGAN, sweetly didst thou glide,
That day I was my Willie's bride,
And years sin syne hae o'er us run,
Like Logan to the simmer sun :
But now thy flowery banks appear
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 of May
Has made our hills and vallies gay ;
The birds rejoice in leafy bowers,
The bees hum round the breathing flowers ;
Blythe Morning lifts his rosy eye,
And Evening's tears are tears o' joy :
My soul, delightless a' surveys,
While Willie's far frae Logan braes.
Within yon milk-white hawthorn bush,
Amang her nestlings sits the thrush ;
35-] Poems and Songs. 89
Her faithfu' mate will share her toil,
Or wi' his song her cares beguile ;
But 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 be to you, Men o' State,
That brethren rouse in deadly hate !
As ye make mony a fond heart mourn,
Sae may it on your heads return !
How can your flinty hearts enjoy
The widow's tear, the orphan's cry ?
But soon may peace bring happy days,
And Willie name to Logan braes !
O WERE MY LOVE YON LILAC FAIR.
Air " Hughie Graham."
O WERE my love yon Lilac fair,
Wi' purple blossoms to the Spring,
And I, a bird to shelter there,
When wearied on my little wing !
How I wad mourn when it was torn
By Autumn wild, and Winter rude !
But I wad sing on wanton wing,
When youthfu' May its bloom renew'd.
O gin my love were yon red rose,
That grows upon the castle wa' ;
And I mysel a drap o' dew,
Into her bonie breast to fa' !
O there, beyond expression blest,
I'd feast on beauty a' the night ;
90 Poems and Songs. [ I 793-
Seal'd on her silk-saft faulds to rest,
Till fley'd awa' by Phoebus' light !
[Only the first double-stanza of this production is by Burns. In June
1793 he forwarded the song to Thomson, asking him if he was acquainted
with the closing eight lines, which had been published as an old fragment in
Herd's collection. The poet observed thus : "The thought in these lines
is inexpressibly beautiful, and, so far as I know, quite original. It is too
short for a song, else I would forswear you altogether except you gave it a
place. I have often tried to eke a stanza to it, but in vain."]
BONIE JEAN. A BALLAD.
To its ain tune-
THERE was a lass, and she was fair,
At kirk and market to be seen ;
When a' our fairest maids were met,
The fairest maid was bonie Jean.
And ay she wrought her mammie's wark,
And ay she sang sae merrilie ;
The blythest bird upon the bush
Had ne'er a lighter heart than she.
But hawks will rob the tender joys
That bless the little lintwhite'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 naigies nine or ten.
He gaed wi' Jeanie to the tryste,
He danc'd wi' Jeanie on the down ;
And, lang ere witless Jeanie wist,
Her heart was tint, her peace was stown !
^ T> 35-1 Poems and Songs. 91
As in the bosom of the stream,
The moon-beam dwells at dewy e'en ;
So trembling, pure, was tender love
Within the breast of bonie Jean.
And now she works her mammie's wark,
And ay she sighs wi' care and pain ;
Ye wist na what her ail might be,
Or what wad make her weel again.
But did na Jeanie's heart loup light,
And did na joy blink in her e'e ;
As Robie tauld a tale o' love :
Ae e'enin on the lily lea ?
The sun was sinking in the west,
The birds sang sweet in ilka grove ;
His cheek to hers he fondly laid,
And whispered thus his tale o' love :
" O Jeanie fair, I lo'e thee dear ;
O canst thou think to fancy me,
Or wilt thou leave thy mammie's cot,
And learn to tent the farms wi' me ?
" At barn or byre thou shalt na drudge,
Or naething else to trouble thee ;
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 ay between them twa.
[The heroine of this ballad was Miss Jean M'Murdo, who was afterwards
married to a Mr Crawford. Her sister Phillis, who was a celebrated beauty,
became the wif of Mr Norman Lockhart of Carnwath. Their brother
Archibald became a Lieut.-Colonel, and died in 1820, aged fifty-four; and the
92 Poems and Songs. [i793-
sons of the latter were i. Col. John M'Murdo of the Scottish Borderers;
2. Admiral Archibald M'Murdo of Cargenholm ; and 3. Col. William Mon-
tague M'Murdo, son-in-law of Sir Charles Napier, the hero of Scinde,
whom he accompanied through his campaigns.]
LINES ON JOHN M'MURDO, ESQ.
BLEST be M'Murdo to his latest day !
No envious cloud o'ercast his evening ray ;
No wrinkle, furrow'd by the hand of care,
Nor ever sorrow add one silver hair !
O may no son the father's honor stain,
Nor ever daughter give the mother pain !
[Mr M'Murdo was Chamberlain to the Duke of Queensberry. We have
not ascertained the date of his death.]
EPITAPH ON A LAP-DOG.
IN 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.
[Mr John Syme, of Ryedale, with whom the poet was in the closest
terms of intimacy throughout the Dumfries period of his life, contributed
a very lively account to Dr Currie, of a tour through Galloway that he had
with Burns for a week or two commencing on ajth July 1793. Arriving at
the house of Mr Gordon of Kenmore in the evening, the excursionists were
hospitably entertained there for three days. " Mrs Gordon's lap-dog Echo
was dead. She would have an epitaph for him. Several had been made.
Burns was asked for one. This was setting Hercules to his distaff. He
disliked the subject, but to please the lady, he would try." The above is
what he produced on the spot.]
T. 35.] Poems and Songs. 93
EPIGRAMS AGAINST THE EARL OF
GALLOWAY.
" From Gatehouse we went next day to Kirkcudbright, through a fine
country. But I must tell you that Burns had got a pair of jemmy boots for
the journey, which had got thoroughly wet, and then dried in such a
manner that it was not possible to get them on again. The brawny poet
tried force, and tore them to shreds. A whiffling vexation of this sort is
more trying to the temper than a serious calamity. We were going to
Saint Mary's Isle, the seat of the Earl of Selkirk, and the forlorn Burns was
discomfited at the thought of his ruined boots. A sick stomach and a head-
ache lent their aid, and the man of verse was quite accable. I attempted
to reason with him. Mercy on us, how he did fume and rage ! Nothing
could re-instate him in temper. I tried various expedients, and at last hit
on one that succeeded. I shewed him the House of Garlics, across the bay
of Wigton. Against the Earl of Galloway, with whom he was offended, he
expectorated his spleen, and regained a most agreeable temper. He was in
a most epigrammatic humour indeed ! " John Syme's Narrative of the
Tour.
WHAT dost thou in that mansion fair ?
Flit, Galloway, and find
Some narrow, dirty, dungeon cave,
The picture of thy mind.
No Stewart art thou, Galloway,
The Stewarts all were brave ;
Besides, the Stewarts were but fools,
Not one of them a knave.
Bright ran thy line, O Galloway,
Thro' many a far-famed sire !
So ran the far-famed Roman way,
And ended in a mire.
On Mr Syme suggesting that the Earl would resent such pasquinaJss,
made public.
Spare me thy vengeance, Galloway !
In quiet let me live :
I ask no kindness at thy hand,
For thou hast none to give.
94 Poems and Songs, [i793-
EPIGRAM ON THE LAIRD OF LAGGAN.
" He was in a most epigrammatic humour indeed 1 Having settled Lord
Galloway, he afterwards fell on humbler game. There is one Morine whom
he does not love. He had a passing blow at him." John Syme s Narrative.
WHEN Morine, deceas'd, to the Devil went down,
'Twas nothing would serve him but Satan's own crown ;
" Thy fool's head," quoth Satan, " that crown shall wear
never,
I grant thou'rt as wicked, but not quite so clever."
SONG. PHILLIS THE FAIR.
Tune" Robin Adair."
WHILE larks, with little wing, fann'd the pure air,
Tasting the breathing Spring, forth I did fare :
Gay the sun's golden eye
Peep'd o'er the mountains high ;
Such thy morn ! did I cry, Phillis the fair.
In each bird's careless song, glad I did share ;
While yon wild-flow'rs among, chance led me there !
Sweet to the op'ning day,
Rosebuds bent the dewy spray ;
Such thy bloom ! did I say, Phillis the fair.
Down in a shady walk, doves cooing were ;
Mark'd I the cruel hawk caught in a snare :
So kind may fortune be,
Such make his destiny,
He who would injure thee, Phillis the fair.
[The reader will perceive that the subject of the above was Miss Phillis
M'Murdo, and that Stephen Clarke was the supposed singer.]
35.] Poems and Song*, 95
SONG. HAD I A CAVE.
Tune" Robin Adair."
" That crinkum-crankum tune Robin Adair, has run so in my head, and
I succeeded so ill in my last attempt, that I have ventured, in this morning's
walk, one essay more. You, my dear sir, will remember an unfortunate
part of our worthy friend Cunningham's story, which happened about three
years ago. That struck my fancy, and I endeavoured to do the idea
istice, as follows."
HAD I a cave on some wild distant shore,
Where the winds howl to the wave's dashing roar :
There would I weep my woes,
There seek my lost repose,
Till grief my eyes should close,
Ne'er to wake more !
Falsest of womankind, can'st thou declare
All thy 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 !
[The poet's lyric success never went beyond this grand result, apparently
reached with so little effort not in Scots verse, but pure English.
Such was the strength of Cunningham's craze for the object of his
blighted love that, long after being jilted, and long after he had married, he
was observed on many an evening stealthily to traverse for hours the
opposite side of Princes Street where she resided, in order that he might
catch a glimpse of her person. He would pause now and again opposite
her windows, and seem gratified even with a passing glance of her shadow
cast on the white screen by the light within then he would burst into tears,
and wend his way slowly home by the most lonely path, absorbed in morbid
contemplation. He survived till 27th January 1812.
His perjured "Anna" had three daughters and one son to her husband,
Dr Dewar ; the son became an Advocate at the Scottish Bar, and her
second daughter Jessie was justly celebrated as the loveliest girl who, at
the period, adorned the Scottish metropolis. A clerk in the Royal Bank
went almost out of his wits through his passion for her, and annoyed her
A ith his addresses. The father of the young man was a woollen draper,
and she looked for some higher connection. At length, Kay the carica-
96 Poems and Songs. [!793-
turist put an extinguisher on the poor pilgrim of love, by publishing an
admirable likeness of the beautiful Jessie Dewar passing up the North
Bridge followed by her imploring tormentor, whose likeness was equally
perfect. A label from his mouth displaj'ed the words, " If it were not for
those d d blankets I would have got her 1 " This fair inspirer afterwards
married the Hon. and Rev. Mr Tournier of London.
In 1838, Robert Chambers thus wrote regarding the widow of Dr Dewar :
" One evening, a very few years ago, a friend of mine, visiting a musical
family who resided in Princes .Street nearly opposite St John's Chapel,
chanced to request one of the young ladies to sing " Had I a cave," &c.
She was about to comply, when it was recollected that the heroine of the
lyric lived in the flat below, an aged widow, who might overhear it. For
that reason the intention of singing the song was laid aside."]
SONG BY ALLAN STREAM.
BY Allan stream I chanc'd to rove,
While Phebus sank beyond Benledi ;
The winds were whispering thro' the grove,
The yellow corn was waving ready :
I listen'd to a lover's sang,
An' thought on youthfu' pleasures mony ;
And ay the wild-wood echoes rang
" O, dearly do I lo'e thee, Annie !
" O, happy be the woodbine bower,
Nae nightly bogle make it eerie ;
Nor ever sorrow stain the hour,
The place and time I met my Dearie !
Her head upon my throbbing breast,
She, sinking, said, ' I'm thine for ever !*
While mony a kiss the seal imprest
The sacred vow we ne'er should sever.''
The haunt o' Spring's the primrose-brae,
The summer joys the flocks to follow j
How cheery thro' her short'ning day,
Is Autumn in her weeds o' yellow ;
^T. 35.] Poems and Songs. 97
But can they melt the glowing heart,
Or chain the soul in speechless pleasure?
Or thro' each nerve the rapture dart,
Like meeting her, our bosom's treasure?
["Autumn is my propitious season, I make more verses in it than in all
the year else. God bless you !" so wrote the exulting poet when he for-
warded the above song to Thomson. August igth. was the date of the
letter which enclosed it. He had performed the Galloway Tour had met
with Clarke at the Globe, where he discovered that " the Georgium Sidus
was out of tune." He had composed and forwarded "Phillis the fair"
followed quickly by the immortal " Had I a cave." Then he sent the song
in the text ; to be followed by " Whistle and I'll come to you my lad 1 "
by "Phillis the Queen of the Fair" after which, by the songs, "Come
let me take thee to my breast" and " Meet me on the Warlock Knowe,"
yet all the while performing his daily Excise routine thoroughly. What
a month of August indeed I A fitting prelude to " Bruce's March" to
Bannockburn " with which he opened September.]
WHISTLE AND I'LL COME TO YOU, MY LAD.
Chorus O WHISTLE an' I'll come to ye, my lad,
O whistle an' I'll come to ye, my lad,
Tho' father an' mother an' a' should gae mad,
O whistle an' I'll come to ye, my lad.
But warily tent when ye come to court me,
And come nae unless the back-yett be a-jee ;
Syne up the back-style, and let naebody see,
And come as ye were na comin to me,
And come as ye were na comin to me.
O whistle an' I'll come, &c.
At kirk, or at market, whene'er ye meet me,
Gang by me as tho' that ye car*d na' a flie ;
But steal me a blink o' your bonie black e'e,
Yet look as ye were na lookin to me,
Yet look as ye were na lookin to me.
O whistle an' I'll come, &c.
III. G
98 Poems and Songs. [ 1 793-
Ay vow and protest that ye care na for me,
And whyles ye may lightly my beauty a-wee ;
But court na anither tho' jokin ye be,
For fear that she wyle your fancy frae me,
For fear that she wyle your fancy frae me.
O whistle and I'll come, c.
[This song was inspired by the charms of Jean Lorimer, although Cunning-
ham and Motherwell held that Mrs Maria Riddell laid claim to be the heroine.
The author of the song ought to have known that matter best, and he
afterwards instructed Thomson to alter the closing line of the chorus to
" Thy Jeanie will venture wi' ye, my lad; " and he added " In fact a fair
dame whom the Graces have attired in witchcraft, and whom the Loves
have armed with lightning a Fair One, herself the heroine of the song,
insists on the amendment, and dispute her commands if you dare." This
latter order was issued on sth August 1795, two years after the song was
composed, but recalled in February 1796, when he had evidently conceived
a disrelish to "Chloris' 1 and her flaxen ringlets.]
PHILLIS THE QUEEN 0' THE FAIR.
Another favourite air of mine is "The muckin o' Geordie's Byre." When
sung slow with expression, I wish that it had better poetry. That I have
endeavoured to supply as follows :
AD OWN winding Nith I did wander,
To mark the sweet flowers as they spring ;
Adown winding Nith I did wander,
Of Phillis to muse and to sing.
Chorus Awa' wi' your Belles and your Beauties,
They never wi' her can compare,
Whaever has met wi' my Phillis,
Has met wi' the queen o' the Fair.
The Daisy amus'd my fond fancy,
So artless, so simple, so wild ;
Thou emblem, said I, o' my Phillis
For she is Simplicity's child,
Awa' wi' your Belles, &c.
/ET. 35.] Poems and Songs. 99
The Rose-bud's the blush o' my charmer,
Her sweet balmy lip when 'tis prest :
How fair and how pure is the Lily !
But fairer and purer her breast,
Awa' wi' your Belles, &c.
Yon knot of gay flowers in the arbour,
They ne'er wi' my Phillis can vie :
Her breath is the breath of the woodbine,
Its dew-drop o' diamond her eye,
Awa' wi' your Belles, &c.
Her voice is the song o' the morning,
That wakes thro' the green-spreading grove,
When. Phebus peeps over the mountains,
On music, and pleasure, and love.
Awa' wi' your Belles, &c.
But, Beauty, how frail and how fleeting !
The bloom of a fine summer's day ;
While Worth in the mind o' my Phillis,
Will flourish without a decay.
Awa' wi' your Belles, &c.
[Miss Philadelphia M'Murdo was the sutject of this elegant song, and
it was produced to gratify Mr Stephen Clarke, the musician.]
COME, LET ME TAKE THEE TO MY BREAST.
That tune, "CauldKail" is such a favourite of yours that I once more
roved out yester evening for a gloamin-shot * at the Muses : when the Muse
that presides o'er the shores of Nith, or rather, my old inspiring, dearest
nymph, Coila, whispered me the following :
COME, let me take thee to my breast,
And pledge we ne'er shall sunder ;
And I shall spurn, as vilest dust,
The world's wealth and grandeur :
* Gloamin twilight. A beautiful Saxon word which ought to be adopted
in England. A " gloamin-shot," a twilight interview with. Currie.
ioo Poems and Songs. [*793-
And do I hear my Jeanie own
That equal transports move her?
I ask for dearest life alone,
That I may live to love her.
Thus, in my arms, wi' a' her charms,
I clasp my countless treasure ;
I'll seek nae mair o' Heav'n to share,
Than sic a moment's pleasure :
And by thy e'en sae bonie blue,
I swear I'm thine for ever !
And on thy lips I seal my vow,
And break it shall I never.
[The inspirer of the song was Jean Lorimer.
Some of our readers may be disposed to conjecture that Mrs Burns was
the "Jeanie" of this song, as well as of " Poortith cauld," and of " Whistle
and I'll come to you ; " but the references to the blue eyes of the charmer,
prove that he did not in these effusions sing of his black-eyed spouse.
" Her een sae bonie blue betray
How she repays my passion."]
DAINTY DAVIE.
Now rosy May comes in wi' flowers,
To deck her gay, green-spreading bowers ;
And now comes in the happy hours,
To wander wi' my Davie.
Chorus 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',
The merry birds are lovers a',
The scented breezes round us blaw,
A wandering wi' my Davie.
Meet me on, &c.
JET. 35.] Poems and Songs. 101
As purple morning starts the hare.
To steal upon her early fare,
Then thro' the dews I will repair,
To meet my faithfu' Davie.
Meet me on, &c.
When day, expiring in the west,
The curtain draws o' Nature's rest,
! flee to his arms I loe the best,
And that's my ain dear Davie.
Meet me on, &c.
[On the same day that the poet had posted to Thomson the preceding
song, to the tune " Cauld Kail," he despatched the one in the text, with
these remarks " I have written you already by to-day's post (28th Aug.
1793), where I hinted of a song of mine (O were I on Parnassus Hill) which
might suit Dainty Davie. I have been looking over another, and a bette r
song of mine in the Museum, which I have altered as follows, and which I
am persuaded will please you. The words "Dainty Davie" glide so
sweetly in the air, that, to a Scots ear, any song to it, without Davie being
the hero, would have a lame effect.
" The chorus, you know, is to the low part of the tune. In the Museum
they have drawled out the tune to twelve lines of poetry, which is nonsense
Four lines of song, and four of chorus, is the way."]
ROBERT BRUCE'S MARCH TO BANNOCK-
BURN.
To its ain tune.
" Independently of my enthusiasm as a Scotsman, I have rarely met with
anything in history which interests my feelings as a man, equal with the
story of Bannockburn. On the one hand, a cruel, but able usurper, leading
on the finest army in Europe, to extinguish the last spark of freedom among
a greatly-daring and greatly-injured people; on the other hand, the des-
perate relics of a gallant nation devoting themselves to rescue their
bleeding country or perish with her. Liberty ! thou art a prize truly and
indeed invaluable, for never canst thou be too dearly bought \"ums to
Lord Buchan, izth Jan. 1794.
SCOTS, wha hae wi' WALLACE bled,
Scots, wham BRUCE has aften led.
Welcome to your gory bed,
Or to VicfMie !
IO2 Poems and Songs. [1793-
Now's the day, and now's the hour ;
See the front o' battle lour ;
See approach proud EDWARD'S power--
Chains and Slaverie !
Wha will be a traitor knave ?
Wha can fill a coward's grave ?
Wha sae base as be a Slave ?
Let him turn and flee !
Wha, for Scotland's King and Law,
Freedom's sword will strongly draw,
FREE-MAN stand, or FREE-MAN fa',
Let him on wi' me !
By Oppression's woes and pains !
By your Sons in servile chains !
We will drain our dearest veins,
But they shall be free !
Lay the proud Usurpers low !
Tyrants fall in every foe !
LIBERTY'S in every blow !
Let us Door Die ! ! !
So may God ever defend the cause of Truth and
Liberty, as He did that day ! Amen ! R. B.
[This appears to have been posted to Thomson on ist Sept. 1793. Burns
thus wrote : " My Dear Sir, You know that my pretentions to musical
taste are merely a few of nature's instincts, untaught or untutored by art.
For this reason, many musical compositions, particularly where much of the
merit lies in counterpoint, however they may transport and ravish the ears
of you connoisseurs, affect my simple lug no otherwise than merely as
melodious Din, On the other hand, by way of amends, I am delighted with
many little melodies which the learned musician despises as silly and insipid.
I do not know whether the old air, ' Hey tutti taitie,' may rank among this
number ; but well I know that, with Eraser's hautboy, it has often filled my
eyes with tears. There is a tradition, which I have met with in many
places in Scotland that it was Robert Bruce's March at the battle of
Bannockburn. This thought in my yesternight's evening-walk, warmed me
&T. 35.] Poems and Songs. 103
to a pitch of enthusiasm on the theme of Liberty and Independence which
I threw into a kind of Scots Ode, fitted to the air, that one might suppose
to be the gallant royal Scot's address to his heroic followers on that eventful
morning."
By the kindness of Frederick Locker, Esq., author of " London Lyrics,"
&c., who is in possession of our poet's first draft of this famous ode, un-
doubtedly penned on sist August 1793, immediately after the "evening
walk " above referred to, we are enabled to furnish the following verbatim
copy of Burns's earliest conception of this heroic effusion. As might be
expected, that MS. shews several readings which he was enabled marvel-
lously to improve after enjoying the refreshment of balmy sleep Nature's
"sweet restorer."]
ROBERT BRUCE'S MARCH TO BANNOCKBURN.
Tune "Hey tutti taitie."
Scots, wha hae wi' WALLACE bled,
Scots, wham BRUCS has aften led,
Welcome to your gory bed,
Or to Victorie.
Now's the day, and now's the hour,
See approach proud Edward's power ;
Sharply maun we bide the stoure
Either they, or we.
Wha will be a traitor knave?
Wha can fill a coward's grave?
Wha sae base as be a slave ?
Let him turn and file I
Wha for Scotland's KING, and LAW,
Freedom's sword will strongly draw,
Free-man stand, or Free-man fa',
Let him follow me!
Do you hear your children cry
"Were we born in chains to lie?"
No 1 Come Death, or Liberty 1
Yes, they shall be free I
Lay the proud Usurpers low 1
Tyrants fall in every foe I
Liberty's in every blow !
Let us Do or Die ! ! !
104- Poems and Songs. [i793-
BEHOLD THE HOUR, THE BOAT ARRIVE,
Version Second-
BEHOLD the hour, the boat arrive ;
Thou goest, the darling of my heart ;
Sever'd from thee, can I survive,
But Fate has will'd and we must part.
I'll often greet the surging swell,
Yon distant Isle will often hail :
" E'en here I took the last farewell ;
There, latest mark'd her vanish'd sail."
Along the solitary shore,
While flitting sea-fowl round me cry,
Across the rolling, dashing roar,
I'll westward turn my wistful eye :
" Happy, thou Indian grove," I'll say,
" Where now my Nancy's path may be !
While thro' thy sweets she loves to stray,
O tell me, does she muse on me ! "
[This is a somewhat altered version of the same song which the poet
enclosed to Clarinda on zjth December 1791.]
DOWN THE BURN, DAVIE.
As down the burn they took their way,
And thro' the flowery dale ;
His cheek to hers he aft did lay,
And love was ay the tale :
With " Mary, when shall we return,
Sic pleasure to renew ? "
Quoth Mary " Love, I like the burn,
And ay shall follow you."
[This was forwarded to Thomson in September 1793, as a closing double
stanza to supersede some rather indelicate verses of a well-known old song
by Robert Crawford. The lines in the text appeared in Thomson's third
yfcT. 35.] Poems and Songs. 105
volume, 1802, in connection with Crawford's song; but Burns's alteration
was subsequently withdrawn to make way for two very puerile double
stanzas by Thomson himself, who considered that our bard " did not bring
the song to the desirable conclusion Jtere given to it."
For the delectation of the reader, we append Thomson's improvement on
Burns.
" As down the burn they took their way, he told his tender tale,
Where all the opening sweets of May adorn'd the flowery dale.
' Not May in all her maiden pride is half sae sweet as thee ;
O say thou'It be my ain dear bride? thou'rt a' the warld to me I*
1 Tho 1 Sandy ca's me sweet and fair, and boasts his sheep and kine ;
In vain he seeks me late and air, my heart is only thine ! '
* Oh ! rapturous sounds 1 my first, best Love, come take my plighted hand ;
My faith and troth I'll fondly prove, in Wedlock's holy band." "
Popular tradition has assigned to David Rizzio the venerable old air,
"Down the Burn, Davie." The old-fashioned people about Edinburgh
point out the very " Burn " in a sequestered dell near " Little France," in
the vicinity of Craigmillar Castle, as that which Queen Mary directed her
" Davie-love" to go down and she would follow.]
THOU HAST LEFT ME EVER, JAMIE.
Tune''' Fee him, father, fee him."
THOU hast left me ever, Jamie,
Thou hast left me ever ;
Thou hast left me ever, Jamie,
Thou hast left me ever :
Aften hast thou vow'cl that Death
Only should us sever ;
Now thou'st left thy lass for ay
I maun see thee never, Jamie,
I'll see thee never.
Thou hast me forsaken, Jamie,
Thou hast me forsaken j
Thou hast me forsaken, Jamie.,
Thou hast me forsaken ;
106 Poems and Songs. [i793-
Than canst love another jo,
While my heart is breaking j
Soon my weary een I'll close,
Never mair to waken, Jamie,
Never mair to waken !
[This song was forwarded to Thomson in September 1793, with these ob-
servations: " I enclose you Eraser's set of this tune. When he plays it
slow, in fact he makes it the language of despair. 1 I shall here give you
two stanzas in that style, merely to try if it will be any improvement. Were
it possible, in singing, to give it half the pathos which Fraser gives it in
playing, it would make an admirably pathetic song. I do not give these
verses for any merit they have. I composed them at the time in which
1 Patie Allan's mother died that was about the back <f midnight J and by
the lee-side of a bowl of punch, which had overset every mortal in company
except the hautbois and the Muse."]
WHERE ARE THE JOYS I HAE MET?
Tune " Saw ye my father."
WHERE are the joys I hae met in the morning,
That danc'd to the lark's early sang ?
Where is the peace that awaited my wand'ring,
At e'ening the wild-woods amang ?
Nae mair a winding the course o' yon river,
And marking sweet flowerets sae fair,
Nae mair I trace the light footsteps o' Pleasure,
But Sorrow and sad-sighing Care.
Is it that Summer's forsaken our vallies,
And grim, surly Winter is near?
No, no, the bees humming round the gay roses
Proclaim it the pride o' the year.
1 "I well recollect, about the year 1824, hearing Fraser play the air on
his benefit night, in the Edinburgh Theatre, ' in the manner in which he
had played it to Burns." It was listened to with breathless attention, as if
the house had felt it to be a medium of communion with the spirit of the
departed bard." Cliambws, 1852.
JET. 35.] Poems and Songs. 107
Fain wad I hide what I fear to discover,
Yet lang, lang, too well hae I known ;
A' that has caused the wreck in my bosom,
Is Jenny, fair Jenny alone.
Time cannot aid me, my griefs are immortal,
Not Hope dare a comfort bestow :
Come then, enamor'd and fond of my anguish,
Enjoyment I'll seek in my woe.
[The "Jenny" of this song is simply the artist's favourite model, placed
with her face in shadow. The words of the old ballad, " Saw ye my
father," are very poetical, although the subject is somewhat objectionable ;
and accordingly these verses of Burns have not had the effect of banishing
from "Love's shining circle," the " Bonie Grey Cock "another title
by which the ballad is known. The melody is very exquisite.]
DELUDED SWAIN, THE PLEASURE,
Tune "The Collier's Dochter."
DELUDED swain, the pleasure
The fickle Fair can give thee,
Is but a fairy treasure,
Thy hopes will soon deceive thee i
The billows on the ocean,
The breezes idly roaming,
The cloud's unceitain motion,
They are but types of Woman.
O art thou not asham'd
To doat upon a feature ?
If Man thou wouldst be nam'd
Despise the silly creature.
Go, find an honest fellow,
Good claret set before thea
Hold on till thou art mellow,
And then to bed in glory !
[This clever Bacchanal, furnished to Thomson in Septembei 1793, is an
improvement on an old English song.]
loS Poems and Songs. [i793-
THINE AM I, MY FAITHFUL FAIR,
Tune "The Quaker's Wife."
THINE am I, my faithful Fair,
Thine, my lovely Nancy ;
Ev'ry pulse along my veins,
Ev'ry roving fancy.
To thy bosom lay my heart,
There to throb and languish ;
Tho' despair had wrung its core,
That would heal its anguish.
Take away those rosy lips,
Rich with balmy treasure ;
Turn away thine eyes of love,
Lest I die with pleasure !
What is life when wanting Love ?
Night without a morning :
Love's the cloudless summer sun,
Nature gay adorning.
ON MRS RIDDELL'S BIRTHDAY.
4TH NOVEMBER 1793.
OLD WINTER, with his frosty beard,
Thus once to Jove his prayer preferred :
" What have I done of all the year,
To bear this hated doom severe ?
My cheerless suns no pleasure know ;
Night's horrid car drags dreary slow ;
My dismal months no joys are crowning,
But spleeny English hanging, drowning.
/ET. 35-] Poems and Songs. 109
" Now Jove, for once be mighty civil,
To counterbalance all this evil ;
Give me, and I've no more to say,
Give me Maria's natal day !
That brilliant gift shall so enrich me,
Spring, Summer, Autumn, cannot match me."
" 'Tis done ! " says Jove ; so ends my story,
And Winter once rejoiced in glory.
MY SPOUSE NANCY.
Tune" My Jo Janet."
" HUSBAND, husband, cease your strife,
Nor longer idly rave, Sir ;
Tho' I am your wedded wife
Yet I am not your slave, Sir."
" One of two must still obey,
Nancy, Nancy ;
Is it Man or Woman, say,
My spouse Nancy ? "
" If 'tis still the lordly word,
Service and obedience ;
I'll desert my sov'reign lord,
And so, good bye, allegiance 1 "
" Sad will I be, so bereft,
Nancy, Nancy ;
Yet I'll try to make a shift,
My spouse Nancy."
" My poor heart, then break it must.
My last hour I am near it :
When you lay me in the dust,
Think how you will bear it."
no Poems and Songs. [i793-
" I will hope and trust in Heaven,
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
Horrid sprites shall haunt you I' 9
" I'll wed another like my dear
Nancy, Nancy ;
Then all hell will fly for fear,
My spouse Nancy."
[This witty dramatic song has been very popular from the day it was first
given to the public. The poet's working sketches of some of the stanzas
are in the British Museum, where the second verse is thus varied :
1 If the word is still obey 1
Always love and fear you ;
I will take myself away,
And never more come near you.'
Sad will I be, &c.
The closing stanza thus begins
' Well, ev'n from the silent dead,
Sir, I'll try to daunt you,' &c.J
ADDRESS,
SPOKEN BY MISS FONTENELLE ON HER BENEFIT NIGHT,
DECEMBER 4TH, 1793, AT THE THEATRE, DUMFRIES.
STILL anxious to secure your partial favor,
And not less anxious, sure, this night than ever,
A Prologue, Epilogue, or some such matter,
'Twould vamp my bill, said I, if nothing better ;
So sought a poet, roosted near the skies,
Told him I came to feast my curious eyes ;
-ET. 35-1 Poems and Songs. in
Said, nothing like his works was ever printed ;
And last, my prologue-business slily hinted.
" Ma'am, let me tell you," quoth my man of rhymes,
" I know your bent these are no laughing times :
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 sluggish slumbers, fell Repentance \
Paint Vengeance as he 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 five :
Laugh in Misfortune's face the beldam witch !
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 hast strove ;
Who, as the boughs all temptingly project,
Measur'st in desperate thought a rope thy neck
Or, where the beetling cliff o'erhangs the deep,
Peerest to meditate the healing leap :
Would'st thou be cur'd, thou silly, moping elf?
Laugh at her follies laugh e'en at thyself:
1 1 2 Poems and Songs. [ 1 793.
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.
[This second Address written by the Bard for his favourite actress, Miss
Fontenelle, has been preserved to the public through the accident of its
having been communicated in a letter from Burns to Mrs Dunlop.]
COMPLIMENTARY EPIGRAM ON
MARIA RIDDELL.
" PRAISE Woman still," his lordship roars,
" Deserv'd or not, no matter !"
But thee, whom all my soul adores,
Ev'n Flattery cannot flatter :
MARIA, all my thought and dream,
Inspires my vocal shell ;
The more I praise my lovely theme,
The more the truth I tell.
[This trifle, a copy of which is inscribed on the back of the poet's first
draft of " Scots wha hae," &c., was bought at the sale of Burns's manu-
scripts which belonged to the late Mr Pickering. An indorsation explains
that some one, in presence of Mrs Riddell, informed the poet that Lord
Buchan, in an argument, vociferated that " Women must be always flattered
grossly, or not praised at all." Whereupon Burns pencilled these lines on
a slip of paper which he handed to the lady. We suspect that our poet was
here only establishing, instead of seeking to rebut, his lordship's argument.
In November 1793, Mrs Riddell, who was then living alone at Woodley
Park during her husband's absence in the West Indies, seems frequently to
have enjoyed the society of Burns by meeting him at her private box in the
Theatre, if she could not, in the circumstances, gratify her sociable nature
by having him as her guest at home. It appears, however, that in course
of December, Mr Riddell returned to this country, and (as Chambers has
remarked) "it was but natural at such a time, that he should wish to have
his friends about him, and the ever-brilliant bard amongst the number.
But unfortunately, at his board the wine flowed in such profusion that his
guests were apt to be deprived of reason and memory alike."
The incident which at length caused a quarrel between Burns and the
Riddells of Woodley Park, has not been very distinctly recorded ; but it
>ET. 35.] Poems and Songs. 113
seems that early in the year 1794, at one of the Bacchanalian meetings
referred to by Chambers, he and the other gentlemen at Riddell's flowing
board (probably the result of a concerted frolic) suddenly invaded, like
a herd of Satyrs, the drawing-room, where Mrs Riddell and the lady-guests
were enjoying themselves, and a sort of miniature "rape of the Sabines'
was suddenly enacted. Burns seized and saluted Mrs Riddell, while the
others secured each a lady in like manner, and kissed her. This outrage,
as might be expected, gave great offence, and next morning Burns addressed
the remorseful apology to Mrs Riddell, written " from the regions of Hell,
amid the horrors of the d d," which is found in his printed corre-
spondence.]
REMORSEFUL APOLOGY.
THE friend whom, wild from Wisdom's way,
The fumes of wine infuriate send,
(Not moony madness more astray)
Who but deplores that hapless friend ?
Mine was th' insensate frenzied part,
Ah ! why should I such scenes outlive ?
Scenes so abhorrent to my heart !
'Tis thine to pity and forgive.
[It is not very certain to whom these lines were addressed, although we
suspect they were addressed to Mrs Riddell.
Chambers tells us that these pleading lines were addressed to Mr Riddell,
the husband of the lady whom he had so rudely treated, as explained in our
last note ; but in his letter to the lady herself, he wrote in a very different
strain, thus : "To the men of the company I make no apology. Your
husband, who insisted on my drinking more than I chose, has no right to
blame me ; and the other gentlemen were partakers of my guilt."
The breach did not, for several weeks after the incident, assume a very
hopeless aspect, but by and by, through the insidious whisperings of back-
biters and slanderers, the current of friendship was arrested, and wounded
pride soon obtained such a mastery over the spirit of Burns, that he at
length considered himself not the sinner, but the sinned against.]
in-
1 1 4 Poems and Songs. [ 1 794-
WILT THOU BE MY DEARIE ?
Tune "The Sutor's Dochter."
WILT thou be my Dearie ?
When Sorrow wrings thy gentle heart,
O wilt thou let me cheer thee !
By the treasure of my soul,
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,
O say na thou'lt refuse me !
If it winna, canna be,
Thou for thine may choose me,
Let me, lassie, quickly die,
Still trusting that thou lo'es me !
Lassie, let me quickly die,
Still trusting that thou lo'es me !
[This is one of the most remarkable of all Burns's lyrics, and one in which
he specially prided himself. We cannot resist coming to the conclusion
that Maria Riddell was its intended heroine. The first mention we have of
it is in the poet's letter to Alexander Cunningham, dated 3rd March 1794,
thus : " Apropos, do you know the much admired Highland air, called
'The Sutor's Dochter?' It is a first-rate favourite of mine, and I have
written what I reckon one of my best songs to it. I will send it to you as
it was sung, with great applause in some fashionable circles, by Major
Robertson of Lude, who was here with his corps."
The correspondence of the poet, prior to the close of 17931 contains re-
peated reference to the " lobster-coated puppies " who associated with Mrs
Riddell at that period; and the lady's grandson, Mr Arthur de Noe
Walker, has now in his possession the poet's holograph copy of this song
which he presented to Mrs Riddell, along with "The last time I came o'er
the muir."]
/ET. 36.] Poems and Songs. 115
A FIDDLER IN THE NORTH.
Tune "The King o" France he rade a race."
AMANG the trees, where humming bees,
At buds and flowers were hinging, O,
Auld Caledon drew out her drone,
And to her pipe was singing, O :
'Tvvas Pibroch, Sang, Strathspeys and Reels,
She dirl'd them aff fu' clearly, O ;
When there cam' a yell o' foreign squeels,
That dang her tapsalteerie, O.
Their capon craws an' queer " ha, ha's,"
They made our lugs grow eerie, O ;
The hungry bike did scrape and fyke,
Till we were wae and weary, O :
But a royal ghaist, wha ance was cas'd,
A prisoner, aughteen year awa',
He fir'd a Fiddler in the North,
That dang them tapsalteerie, O.
[It appears probable from the terms of one of the poet's letters, that Neil
Gow paid a visit to Dumfries about this period, and had several meetings
with Burns ; and it seems reasonable to infer that the present production
was one of the results of those interviews. The poet thus wrote to his
correspondent : " I was much obliged to you for making me acquainted
with Gow. He is a modest, intelligent, worthy fellow, besides his being a
man of genius in his way. I have spent many happy hours with him in the
short while he has been here." The "royal ghaist" referred to is King
James I. of Scotland, who was kept a prisoner in England for eighteen years.]
THE MINSTREL AT LINCLUDEN.
As I stood by yon roofless tower,
Where the wa'flow'r scents the dewy air,
Where the houlet mourns in her ivy bower,
And tells the midnight moon her care.
u6 Poems and Songs. [i?94-
Chorus A lassie all alone, was making her moan,
Lamenting our lads beyond the sea ;
In the bluidy wars they fa', and our honor's
gane an' a',
And broken-hearted we maun die.
The winds were laid, the air was still,
The stars they shot along the sky ;
The tod was howling on the hill,
And the distant-echoing glens reply.
A lassie all alone, &c.
The burn, adown its hazelly path,
Was rushing by the ruin'd wa',
Hasting to join the sweeping Nith,
Whase roarings seem'd to rise and fa*.
A lassie all alone, &c.
The cauld blae North was streaming forth
Her lights, wi' hissing, eerie din,
Athort the lift they start and shift,
Like Fortune's favors, tint as win'.
A lassie all alone, &c.
Now, looking over frith and fauld,
Her horn the pale-faced Cynthia rear'd,
When lo ! in form of Minstrel auld,
A stern and stalwart ghaist appear'd.
A lassie all alone, &c.
And frae his harp sic strains did flow,
Might rous'd the slumbering Dead to hear ;
But oh, it was a tale of woe,
As ever met a Briton's ear !
A lassie all alone, &c.
<ET. 36.] Poems and Songs. 3:7.7
He sang wi' joy his former day,
He, weeping, wail'd his latter times ;
But what he said it was nae play,
I winna ventur't in my rhymes.
A lassie all alone, &c.
[The above is the poet's first version of a sublime lyric, which he ulti-
mately left on record under the title, " A Vision," in which some changes
are made in the text, and the chorus is excluded. Our country was at that
period at war with the French Republic a war which Burns bitterly
deplored, although circumstances compelled him to set " a seal on his lips
as to those unlucky politics." He had been nearly forced into a duel by "an
epauletted puppy," who took mortal offence at a toast which the witty poet
proposed in his presence " May our success in the present war be equal to
the justice of our cause." He had quarrelled with the Riddells, and accord-
ing to his own account, his "soul was tossed on a sea of troubles, without
one friendly star to guide her course." On 25th Feb. 1794, he informed his
Edinburgh friend Cunningham, that for two months back he had not been
able to lift a pen. "My constitution and frame," he added, "were ab
origine blasted with a deep, incurable taint of hypochondria, which poisons
my existence. Of late, a number of domestic vexations, and some pecuniary
share in the ruin of these cursed times losses which, though trifling, were
yet what I could ill bear have so irritated me, that my feelings at times
could only be envied by a reprobate spirit listening to the sentence that
dooms it to perdition."
The main pillar which the poet depended on to bear up his soul amid
such a wreck of misfortune and misery was "a certain noble, stubborn
something in man, known by the names of Courage, Fortitude, Magna-
nimity." Accordingly, about this period (such was the recollection of the
poet's eldest son) he passed most of his musing hours amid the Lincluden
ruins. These occupy a romantic situation on a piece of rising ground in the
angle at the junction of the Cluden water with the Nith, at a short distance
above Dumfries. " Such," says Chambers, " is the locality of this grand
and thrilling ode, in which he hints (for more than a hint could not be
ventured upon) his sense of the degradation of the ancient manly spirit of
his country under the conservative terrors of the passing era."]
A VISION.
As I stood by yon roofless tower,
Where the wa'flower scents the dewy air,
Where the howlet mourns in her ivy bower,
And tells the midnight moon her care.
Ii8 Poems and Songs. [ I 794
The winds were laid, the air was still,
The stars they shot alang the sky ;
The fox was howling on the hill,
And the distant echoing glens reply.
The stream, adown its hazelly path,
Was rushing by the ruin'd wa's,
To join yon river on the Strath,
Whase distant roaring swells and fa's.
The cauld blae North was streaming forth
Her lights, wi' hissing, eerie din ;
Athwart the lift they start and shift,
Like Fortune's favors, tint as win.
By heedless chance I turn'd my eyes,
And, by the moonbeam, shook to see
A stern and stalwart ghaist arise,
Attir'd as Minstrels wont to be.
Had I statue been o' stane,
His daring look had daunted me ;
And on his bonnet grav'd was plain,
The sacred posy" LIBERTIE !"
And frae his harp sic strains did flow,
Might rous'd the slumb'ring Dead to hear ;
But oh, it was a tale of woe,
As ever met a Briton's ear !
He sang wi' joy his former day,
He, weeping, wailed his latter times ;
But what he said it was nae play,
I winna ventur't in my rhymes.
[Dr Currie thus remarks concerning these verses : " Though this posm
has a political bias, yet it may be presumed that no reader of taste, what-
ever his opinions may be, would forgive its being omitted. Our poet's
prudence suppressed the song of ' LIBERTIE,' perhaps fortunately for his
reputation. It may be questioned whether, even in the resources of his
genius, a strain of poetry could have been found worthy of the grandeur
and solemnity of this preparation."]
JET. 36.] Poems and Songs. 119
A RED, RED ROSE.
MY Luve is like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June :
My Luve is like the melodic,
That's sweetly play'd in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonie lass,
So deep in luve am I ;
And I will luve thee still, my Dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry.
Till a' the seas gang dry, my Dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun ;
And I will luve thee still, my Dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.
And fare-thee-well, my only Luve I
And fare-thee-well, a while !
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho' 'twere ten thousand mile !
[This little Love-chant has been a universal favourite since it was first
given to the world. It is one of those lyrics, in imitation of the old minstrels,
which called forth the commendations of Hazlitt in his critical remarks
on Burns's poetry.]
RESISTLESS KING OF LOVE.
YOUNG JAMIE, pride of a' the plain,
Sae gallant and sae gay a swain,
Thro' a' our lasses he did rove,
And reign'd resistless King of Love.
But now, wi' sighs and starting tears,
He strays amang the woods and breers ;
Or in the glens and rocky caves,
His sad complaining dowie raves :
I2O Poems and Songs. [i?94
" I wha sae late did range and rove,
And chang'd with every moon my love,
I little thought the time was near,
Repentance I should buy sae dear.
" The slighted maids my torments see,
And laugh at a' the pangs I dree ;
While she, my cruel, scornful Fair,
Forbids me e'er to see her mair."
[An examination of the words suggests that this song may have been one
of those pastorals which the poet composed with a view to conciliate the
temper, and melt the coldness of Maria Riddell, whose lyrical tastes were
very Arcadian. After the quarrel between that pair of Platonic lovers, to
which we have referred, the chronology of Chambers brings us too suddenly
into the gall of bitterness, and even disregard of decency which affected the
wounded spirit of Burns after the failure of his conciliatory overtures. The
prose correspondence betwixt them plainly exhibits a kind of diplomatic
coquettishness, whose issue might be either reconciliation or open rupture.
Unfortunately, the policy of Mrs Riddell led her to overstretch the haut-
en-bas rigour by which she meant to depress and discipline her offending
lover; and that roused the "stubborn something in his bosom" which
impelled him to adopt the position of an injured man, in whom meekness
would be pusillanimity, and revenge the noblest of virtues.]
THE FLOWERY BANKS OF CREE.
HERE is the glen, and here the bower
All underneath the birchen shade ;
The village-bell has told the hour,
O what can stay my lovely maid ?
'Tis not Maria's whispering call ;
'Tis but the balmy-breathing gale ;
Mixt with some warbler's dying fall,
The dewy star of eve to hail.
It is Maria's voice I hear ;
So calls the woodlark in the grove.
His little, faithful mate to cheer ;
At once 'tis music and 'tis love.
/ET. 36.] Poems and Songs. 12 \
And art thou come ! and art thou true !
O welcome dear to love and me !
And let us all our vows renew,
Along the flowery banks of Cree.
[This song appears to have been composed with the same purpose as
that immediately preceding. The poet forwarded it to Thomson in April
1794, with directions to set it to an air called "The Banks of Cree,"
composed by Lady Elizabeth Heron of Heron. He had sent Thomson no
verses since the month of December preceding, and now he wrote, " For
six or seven months I shall be quite in song, as you shall see by and by."
Meanwhile the original breach between Burns and his intimate friends
at Woodley Park became wide, in spite of all his efforts at reconciliation,
and oy way of accounting for it Chambers blames "the tittle-tattle of
injudicious friends." The poet became at length so deeply incensed against
the once admired Maria and her husband that he stooped to express his
lancour in strains truly unworthy of him ; and these we must now proceed
to give.]
MONODY
ON A LADY FAMED FOR HER CAPRICE.
"TeU me what you think of the following Monody. The subject of it is
a woman of fashion in this country, with whom at one period I was well
acquainted. By some scandalous conduct to me, and two or three other
gentlemen here as well as me, she steered so far to the north of my good
opinion, that I have made her the theme of some ill-natured things. The
epigram appended struck me the other day as I passed her carriage."
Burns to Mrs M'Lehose, 1794-
How cold is that bosom which folly once fired,
How pale is that cheek where the rouge lately glisten'd ;
How silent that tongue which the echoes oft tired,
How dull is that ear which to flatt'ry so listen'd !
If sorrow and anguish their exit await,
From friendship and dearest affection remov'd ;
How doubly severer, Maria, thy fate,
Thou diedst unwept, as thou livedst unlov'd.
Loves. Graces, and Virtues, I call not on you ;
So shy, grave, and distant, ye shed not a tear :
122 Poems and Songs. [ 1 794.
But come, all ye offspring of Folly so true,
And flowers let us cull for Maria's cold bier.
We'll search through the garden for each silly flower,
We'll roam thro' the forest for each idle weed ;
But chiefly the nettle, so typical, shower,
For none e'er approach'd her but rued the rash deed.
We'll sculpture the marble, we'll measure the lay ;
Here Vanity strums on her idiot lyre ;
There keen Indignation shall dart on his prey,
Which spurning Contempt shall redeem from his ire.
THE EPITAPH.
HERE lies, now a prey to insulting neglect,
What once was a butterfly, gay in life's beam :
Want only of wisdom denied her respect,
Want only of goodness denied her esteem.
PINNED TO MRS WALTER RIDDELL'S
CARRIAGE.
IF you rattle along like your Mistress's tongue,
Your speed will outrival the dart ;
But a fly for your load, you'll break down on the road,
If your stuff be as rotten's her heart.
EPITAPH FOR MR WALTER RIDDELL.
Sic a reptile was Wat, sic a miscreant slave,
That the worms ev'n d d him when laid in his grave j
s ln his flesh there's a famine,' a starved reptile cries,
'And his heart is rank poison !' another replies.
[The foregoing productions, all very characteristic of their author, must
be left to speak for themselves. Chambers truly remarks that "to have
given expression to such sentiments regarding a female, even though a
/Ei\ 36.] Poems and Songs. 123
positive wrong had been inflicted, would have been totally indefensible ;
and still more astounding is it to find, that the bard could think of exhibiting
such effusions to another female. Strange that the generous heart which
never failed to have ruth on human woe, which felt even for 'the ourie
cattle and the silly sheep,' which glowed with patriotic fire, and disdained
everything like a sordid or shabby action, should have been capable of
condescending to expressions of coarse and rancorous feelings against a
woman, and one who had shewn him many kindnesses." In Dr Currie's
edition, the name of the victim is sympathisingly changed from Maria to
"Eliza."]
EPISTLE FROM ESOPUS TO MARIA.
" Well ! divines may say of it what they please ; but execration is to the
mind what phlebotomy is to the body ; the vital sluices of both are wonder-
fully relieved by their respective evacuations." Letter to Peter Hill.
FROM those drear solitudes and frowsy cells,
Where Infamy with sad Repentance dwells ;
Where turnkeys make the jealous portal fast,
And deal from iron hands the spare repast ;
Where truant 'prentices, yet young in sin,
Blush at the curious stranger peeping in ;
Where strumpets, relics of the drunken roar,
Resolve to drink, nay half to whore no more ;
Where tiny thieves not destin'd yet to swing,
Beat hemp for others, riper for the string :
From these dire scenes my wretched lines I date,
To tell Maria her Esopus' fate.
"Alas ! I feel I am no actor here !"
'Tis real hangmen real scourges bear !
Prepare, Maria, for a horrid tale
Will turn thy very rouge to deadly pale ;
Will make thy hair, tho' erst from gipsy polTd,
By barber woven, and by barber sold,
Though twisted smooth with Harry's nicest care,
Like hoary bristles to erect and stare.
124 Poems and Songs. [i794<
The hero of the mimic scene, no more
I start in Hamlet, in Othello roar ;
Or, haughty Chieftain, 'mid the din of arms,
In Highland bonnet, woo Malvina's charms ;
While sans-culottes stoop up the mountain high,
And steal from me Maria's prying eye.
Blest Highland bonnet ! once my proudest dress,
Now prouder still, Maria's temples press ;
I see her wave thy towering plumes afar,
And call each coxcomb to the wordy war :
I see her face the first of Ireland's sons,
And even out-Irish his Hibernian bronze ;
The crafty Colonel leaves the tartan'd lines,
For other wars, where he a hero shines :
The hopeful youth, in Scottish senate bred,
Who owns a Bushby's heart without the head,
Comes 'mid a string of coxcombs, to display
That vem> vidi, vici, is his way :
The shrinking Bard adown the alley skulks,
And dreads a meeting worse than Woolwich hulk:
Though there, his heresies in Church and State
Might well award him Muir and Palmer's fate :
Still she undaunted reels and rattles on,
And dares the public like a noontide sun.
What scandal called Maria's jaunty stagger
The ricket reeling of a crooked swagger ?
Whose spleen (e'en worse than Burns's venom, when
He dips in gall unmix'd his eager pen,
And pours his vengeance in the burning line,)
Who christen'd thus Maria's lyre-divine
The idiot strum of Vanity bemus'd,
And even th' abuse of Poesy abus'd ?
Who called her verse a Parish Workhouse, made
For motley foundling Fancies, stolen or strayed ?
A Workhouse ! ah, that sound awakes my woes,
And pillows on the thorn my rack'd repose !
JET. 36.] Poems and Songs. 125
In durance vile here must I wake and \veep,
And all my frowsy couch in sorrow steep ;
That straw where many a rogue has lain of yore,
And verniin'd gipsies litter'd heretofore.
Why, Lonsdale, thus thy wrath on vagrants pour ?
Must earth no rascal save thyself endure ?
Must thou alone in guilt immortal swell,
And make a vast monopoly of hell ?
Thou know'st the Virtues cannot hate thee worse ;
The Vices also, must they club their curse ?
Or must no tiny sin to others fall,
Because thy guilt's supreme enough for all ?
Maria, send me too thy griefs and cares ;
In all of thee sure thy Esopus shares.
As thou at all mankind the flag unfurls,
Who on my fair one Satire's vengeance hurls
Who calls thee, pert, affected, vain coquette,
A wit in folly, and a fool in wit !
Who says that fool alone is not thy due,
And quotes thy treacheries to prove it true !
Our force united on thy foes we'll turn,
And dare the war with all of woman born :
For who can write and speak as thou and I ?
My periods that decyphering defy,
And thy still matchless tongue that conquers all reply !
[The peculiar plan of this final poetical attack on the Maria whom its
author had so recently worshipped, was explained in a communication
made by a well-informed correspondent of the Kendal Mercury, so recently
as in July 1852.
A dramatic company, headed by Mr James Williamson, an actor of
considerable merit, occasionally performed in the little theatre behind the
George Inn of Dumfries. About the close of 1793, Williamson, like Burns,
was frequently admitted into the charmed circle at Woodley Park. In the
following Spring, after the fatal quarrel, the poet happened to hear of a
most extraordinary adventure having befallen Williamson and his associates
126 Poems and Song$ t [i794-
while performing at Whitehaven. The Earl of Lonsdale, a local despot
whose ill-fame was not unknown to Burns, had committed the whole
company to prison as vagrants. Seizing on this incident, Burns conceived
the idea of the foregoing epistle (formed on the model of "Eloisa to
Abelard,") as being penned by Williamson under the name " Esopus," in
prison at Whitehaven, to the lady whose society he had recently enjoyed.
A principal cause of the deep-rooted umbrage which Burns conceived
against the accomplished Maria, lay in the fact that through her capricious
displeasure, he lost the cherished friendship of the Laird of Carse and his
lady ; for they sided with their relatives at Woodley Park in this affair.
Mrs Walter Riddell had the indiscretion to repeat to her brother-in-law
some jocular remarks which Burns had made on the peculiarities of Capt.
Riddell ; and this little instance of womanly spleen the poet resented more
than her unforgiving attitude towards himself, inasmuch as he was thereby
deprived of the esteem of those ancient friends whom he had really
reverenced.]
EPITAPH ON A NOTED COXCOMB,
CAPT. WM. RODDICK, OF CORBISTON.
LIGHT lay the earth on Billy's breast,
His chicken heart so tender ;
But build a castle on his head,
His scull will prop it under.
ON CAPT. LASCELLES.
WHEN Lascelles thought fit from this world to depart,
Some friends warmly thought of embalming his heart ;
A bystander whispers " Pray don't make so much o't,
The subject is poison, no reptile will touch it."
ON WM. GRAHAM, ESQ. OF MOSSKNOWE.
" STOP thief! " dame Nature call'd to Death,
As Willy drew his latest breath ;
How shall I make a fool again ?
My choicest model thou hast ta'en.
<ET. 36.] Poems and Songs. 127
ON JOHN BUSHBY, ESQ., TINWALD DOWNS,
Here lies John Bushby honest man,
Cheat him, Devil if you can !
[The preceding four Epigrams are among the list of those sent by Burns
to Creech, in May 1795 ; and they are also recorded in the author's hand-
writing, in the Glenriddell volume of his poetry, now in the Liverpool
Athenaeum.]
SONNET ON THE DEATH OF ROBERT
RIDDELL,
OF GLENRIDDELL AND FRIARS' CARSE.
No more, ye warblers of the wood ! no more ;
Nor pour your descant grating on my soul ;
Thou young-eyed Spring ! gay in thy verdant stole,
More welcome were to me grim Winter's wildest roar.
How can ye charm, ye flowers, with all your dyes ?
Ye blow upon the sod that wraps my friend !
How can I to the tuneful strain attend ?
That strain flows round the untimely tomb where Riddell
lies.
Yes, pour, ye warblers ! pour the notes of woe,
And soothe the Virtues weeping o'er his bier :
The man of worth and hath not left his peer 1
Is in his "narrow house," for ever darkly low.
Thee, Spring ! again with joy shall others greet ;
Me, memory of my loss will only meet
[Somewhat unexpectedly, the Laird of Carse died on 2ist April 17941
unreconciled to Burns, who remembering only his worth and former kind-
ness, immediately conceived this elegiac sonnet. The recollection of this
magnanimous act of Burns must have touched Maria Riddell's mind with
some compunctuous force, when she performed a kindred act, little more
than two years thereafter, for their author, also laid in his last sleep.]
128 Poems and Songs. 1^794*
THE LOVELY LASS O' INVERNESS.
THE lovely lass o' Inverness,
Nae joy nor pleasure can she see ;
For, e'en to morn she cries "alas !"
And ay the saut tear blin's her e'e.
" Drumossie moor, Drumossie day
A waefu' day it was to me !
For there I lost my father dear,
My father dear, and brethren three.
" Their winding-sheet the bluidy clay,
Their graves are grow in green to see ;
And by them lies the dearest lad
That ever blest a woman's e'e !
" Now wae to thee, thou cruel lord,
A bluidy man I trow thou be ;
For mony a heart thou has made sair,
That ne'er did wrang to thine or thee !"
[The kindly Spring wakened up the chords of song within the bosom cf
our Minstrel, and bestirring himself to produce lyrics for the pages of John-
son and Thomson, he was gradually diverted from the morbid desire to
write lampoons and personal satire.]
CHARLIE, HE'S MY DARLING.
'TWAS on a Monday morning,
Right early in the year,
That Charlie came to our town,
The young Chevalier.
Chorus An' Charlie, he's my darling,
My darling, my darling,
Charlie, he's my darling,
The young Chevalier.
36.] Poems and Songs. 129
As he was walking up the street,
The city for to view,
O there he spied a bonie lass
The window looking through,
An' Charlie, &c.
Sae light's he jumped up the stair,
And tirl'd at the pin ;
And wha sae ready as hersel'
To let the laddie in !
An' Charlie, &c.
He set his Jenny on his knee,
All in his Highland dress ;
For brawly well he ken'd the way
To please a bonie lass,
An Charlie, &c.
It's up yon heathery mountain,
An' down yon scroggie glen,
We daur na gang a milking,
For Charlie and his men,
An' Charlie, &c.
BANNOCKS O' BEAR MEAL,
Chorus Bannocks o' bear meal,
Bannocks o' barley,
Here's to the Highlandman's
Bannocks o' barley 1
WHA, in a brulyie, will
First cry "a parley"?
Never the lads wi' the
Bannocks o' barley,
Bannocks o' bear meal, &c
ill. I
130 Poems and Songs. [i?94-
Wha, in his wae days,
Were loyal to Charlie ?
Wha but the lads wi' the
Bannocks o' barley !
Bannocks o' bear meal, &c.
THE HIGHLAND BALOU.
HEE balou, my sweet wee Donald,
Picture o' the great Clanronald ;
Brawlie kens our wanton Chief
Wha gat my young Highland thief.
Leeze me on thy bonie craigie,
An' thou live, thou'll steal a naigie,
Travel the country thro' and thro',
And bring hame a Carlisle cow.
Thro' the Lawlands, o'er the Border,
Weel, my babie, may thou furder !
Harry the louns o' the laigh Countrie,
Syne to the Highlands hame to me.
THE HIGHLAND WIDOW'S LAMENT
OH I am come to the low Countrie,
Ochon, Ochon, Ochrie !
Without a penny in my purse,
To buy a meal to me.
It was na sae in the Highland hills,
Ochon, Ochon, Ochrie !
Nae woman in the Country wide,
Sae happy was as me.
JET. 36.] Poems and Songs. 131
For then I had a score o' ky3,
Ochon, Ochon, Ochrie !
Feeding on yon hill sae high,
And giving milk to me.
And there I had three score o' yowes,
Ochon, Ochon, Ochrie !
Skipping on yon bonie knowes,
And casting woo to me.
I was the happiest of a' the Clan,
Sair, sair may I repine ;
For Donald was the brawest man,
And Donald he was mine.
Till Charlie Stewart cam at last,
Sae far to set us free ;
My Donald's arm was wanted then,
For Scotland and for me.
Their waefu' fate what need I tell,
Right to the wrang did yield ;
My Donald and his Country fell,
Upon Culloden field.
Ochon ! O Donald, oh !
Ochon, Ochon, Ochrie !
Nae woman in the warld wide,
Sae wretched now as me.
IT WAS A' FOR OUR RIGHTFU' KING.
IT was a' for our rightfu' King
We left fair Scotland's strand ;
It was a' for our rightfu' King
We e'er saw Irish land, my dear,
We e'er saw Irish land.
132 Poems and Songs.
Now a' is done that men can do,
And a' is done in vain ;
My Love and Native Land fareweel,
For I maun cross the main, my dear,
For I maun cross the main.
He turn'd him right and round about,
Upon the Irish shore ;
And gae his bridle reins a shake,
With adieu for evermore, my dear,
And adieu for evermore.
The soger frae the wars returns,
The sailor frae the main ;
But I hae parted frae my Love,
Never to meet again, my dear,
Never to meet again.
When day is gane, and night is come ?
And a' folk bound to sleep ;
I think on him that's far awa,
The lee-lang night and weep, my dear,
The lee-lang night and weep.
[We are informed, both by Lockhart and by Kirkpatrick Sharpe, that Sir
Walter Scott never tired of hearing this admirable ballad sung by his
daughter. Mr Sharpe has pointed to a very poor stall-ballad, called
" Molly Stuart," consisting of eleven verses of disconnected doggerel, in
which occurs, " like a jewel in a swine's snout," the most picturesque stanza
in the text that beginning, " He turned him right and round about," but
we have no doubt that the broadside referred to was printed after 1796.
Sir Walter, under the impression that the stanza in question is ancient,
has made very free use of it, first in " Rokeby " (1813), and then in Elspeth's
Ballad, in " The Antiquary " (1816). In the former, as part of the fine song,
" A weary lot is thine, fair maid," he thus introduces the verse :
11 He turn'd his charger as he spake.
Upon the river shore,
He gave his bridle reins a shake,
Said, ' Adieu for evermore, my love,
And adieu for evermore.' "]
MT. 36.] Poems and Songs. 133
ODE FOR GENERAL WASHINGTON'S
BIRTHDAY.
"I am just going to trouble your critical patience with the first sketch of
a stanza I have been framing as I passed along the road. The subject is
LIBERTY : you know, my honoured friend, how dear the theme is to me. I
design it as an irregular Ode for General Washington's birthday." Letter
to Mrs Dunlop, z^th June 1794.
No Spartan tube, no Attic shell,
No lyre ^olian I awake ;
'Tis liberty's bold note I swell,
Thy harp, Columbia, let me take 1
See gathering thousands, while I sing,
A broken chain exulting bring,
And dash it in a tyrant's face,
And dare him to his very beard,
And tell him he no more is feared
No more the despot of Columbia's race !
A tyrant's proudest insults brav'd,
They shout a People freed ! They hail an Empire saved.
Where is man's godlike form ?
Where is that brow erect and bold
That eye that can unmov'd behold
The wildest rage, the loudest storm
That e'er created fury dared to raise ?
Avaunt ! thou caitiff, servile, base,
That tremblest at a despot's nod,
Yet, crouching under the iron rod,
Canst laud the hand that struck th' insulting blow !
Art thou of man's Imperial line ?
Dost boast that countenance divine ?
Each skulking feature answers, No '
134 Poems and Songs. [i794-
But come, ye sons of Liberty,
Columbia's offspring, brave as free,
In danger's hour still flaming in the van,'
Ye know, and dare maintain, the Royalty of Man !
Alfred ! on thy starry throne,
Surrounded by the tuneful choir,
The bards that erst have struck the patriot lyre,
And rous'd the freeborn Briton's soul of fire,
No more thy England own !
Dare injured nations form the great design,
To make detested tyrants bleed ?
Thy England execrates the glorious deed !
Beneath her hostile banners waving,
Every pang of honour braving,
England in thunder calls, "The tyrant's cause is mine !"
That hour accurst how did the fiends rejoice
And hell, thro' all her confines, raise the exulting voice,
That hour which saw the generous English name
Linkt with such damned deeds of everlasting shame !
Thee, Caledonia ! thy wild heaths among,
Fam'd for the martial deed, the heaven-taught song,
To thee I turn with swimming eyes ;
Where is that soul of Freedom fled ?
Immingled with the mighty dead,
Beneath that hallow'd turf where Wallace lies !
Hear it not, WALLACE ! in thy bed of death.
Ye babbling winds ! in silence sweep,
Disturb not ye the hero's sleep,
Nor give the coward secret breath !
Is this the ancient Caledonian form,
Firm as the rock, resistless as the storm ?
Show me that eye which shot immortal hate,
Blasting the despot's proudest bearing ;
Show me that arm which, nerv'd with thundering fate,
/ET. 36.] Poems and Songs. 135
Crush'd Usurpation's boldest daring !
Dark-quench'd as yonder sinking star,
No more that glance lightens afar ;
That palsied arm no more whirls on the waste of war.
[Dr Josiah Walker, who had been introduced to Burns in 1787, and who
in 1811 published anonymously a memoir of him, visited the poet at
Dumfries in October 1794 (not 1795, as he has in error set down). He says,
" I called upon him early in the forenoon, and found him in a small house
of one story. He was sitting on a window-seat with the doors open, the
family arrangements going on in his presence, and altogether without that
appearance of snugness and seclusion which a student requires. After con-
versing with him for some time, he proposed a walk, and promised to
conduct me through some of his favourite haunts. We accordingly quitted
the town, and wandered a considerable way up the beautiful banks of the
Nith. Here he gave me an account of his latest productions, and repeated
some satirical ballads which he had composed to favour one of the candidates
at the last borough election. These I thought inferior to his other pieces,
though they had some lines in which vigour compensated for coarseness.
He repeated also his fragment of an ' Ode to Liberty ' (the closing portion of
the poem in the text), with marked and peculiar energy, and shewed a dis-
position which, however, was easily repressed to throw out political
remarks, of the same nature with those for which he had been reprehended.
On finishing our walk, he passed some time with me at the inn, and I left
him early in the evening."]
INSCRIPTION TO MISS GRAHAM OF FINTRY.
" I have presented a copy of your book of songs to the daughter of a much-
valued and much-honoured friend of mine Mr Graham of Fintry. I wrote
on the blank side of the title page, the following address to the young
lady." Letter to George Thomson, July 1794.
HERE, where the Scottish Muse immortal lives,
In sacred strains and tuneful numbers joined,
Accept the gift ; though humble he who gives,
Rich is the tribute of the grateful mind.
So may no ruffled feeling in thy breast,
Discordant, jar thy bosom-chords among ;
But Peace attune thy gentle soul to rest,
Or Love ecstatic wake his seraph song,
136 Poems and Songs.
Or Pity's notes, in luxury of tears,
As modest Want the tale of woe reveals ;
While conscious Virtue all the strains endears,
And heaven-born Piety her sanction seals.
ON THE SEAS AND FAR AWAY.
Tune " O'er the hills and far away."
How can my poor heart be glad,
When absent from my sailor lad ;
How can I the thought forego
He's on the seas to meet the foe ?
Let me wander, let me rove,
Still my heart is with my love ;
Nightly dreams, and thoughts by day,
Are with him that's far away.
Chorus. On the seas and far away,
On stormy seas and far away ;
Nightly dreams and thoughts by day,
Are ay with him that's far away.
When in summer noon I faint,
As weary flocks around me pant,
Haply in this scorching sun,
My sailor's thund'ring at his gun ;
Bullets, spare my only joy !
Bullets, spare my darling boy !
Fate, do with me what you may,
Spare but him that's far away.
On the seas and far away,
On stormy seas and far away ;
Fate, do with me what you may,
Spare but him that's far away.
36.] Poems and Son %$. 137
At the starless, midnight hour
When Winter rules with boundless power
As the storms the forests tear,
And thunders rend the howling air,
Listening to the doubling roar,
Surging on the rocky shore,
All I can I weep and pray
For his weal that's far away.
On the seas and far away,
On stormy seas and far away r
All I can I weep and pray,
For his weal that's far away.
Peace, thy olive wand extend,
And bid wild War his ravage end,
Man with brother Man to meet,
And as a brother kindly greet ;
Then may heav'n with prosperous gales,
Fill my sailor's welcome sails ;
To my arms their charge convey,
My dear lad that's far away.
On the seas and far away,
On stormy seas and far away ;
To my arms their charge convey,
My dear lad that's far away.
[This effusion, sent to Thomson on 3oth August 1794, is introduced with
the following passage: "The last evening as I was straying out and think-
ing of ' O'er the Hills and far away,' I spun the following stanzas for it ; but
whether my spinning will deserve to be laid up in stores, like the precious
thread of the silkworm, or brushed to the devil, like the vile manufacture
of the spider, I leave, my dear Sir, to your usual candid criticism. I was
pleased with several lines in it at first, but I own that now it appears rather
a flimsy business."]
i 38 Poems and Songs. [ 1 794.
I
CA ; THE YOWES TO THE KNOWES.
SECOND VERSION.
Chorus. Ca' the yowes to the knowes,
Ca' them where the heather grows,
Ca' them where the burnie rowes,
My bonie Dearie.
HARK the mavis' e'ening sang,
Sounding Clouden's woods amang ;
"hen a-faulding let us gang,
My bonie Dearie.
Ca' the yowes, &c.
We'll gae down by Clouden side,*
Thro' the hazles, spreading wide,
O'er the waves that sweetly glide,
To the moon sae clearly.
Ca' the yowes, &c.
Yonder Clouden's silent towers,t
Where, at moonshine's midnight hours,
O'er the dewy bending flowers,
Fairies dance sae cheery.
Ca' the yowes, &c.
Ghaist nor bogle shalt thou fear,
Thou'rt to Love and Heav'n sae dear,
Nocht of ill may come thee near ;
My bonie Dearie.
Ca' the yowes, &c.
* A little river so called, near Dumfries. R. B.
t An old ruin in a sweet situation at the confluence of the Clouden and
the Nith. R. B.
yfcT. 36.] Poems and Songs. 13$
Fan- and lovely as thou art,
Thou hast stown my very heart ;
I can die but canna part,
My bonie Dearie.
Ca' the yowes, c.
[In sending this to Thomson in September 1704, the poet thus wrote :
" I am flattered at your adopting ' Ca' the yowes,' as it was owing to me
that it ever saw the light. About seven years ago, I was well acquainted
with a worthy little fellow of a clergyman, a Mr Clunie, who sang it charm-
ingly ; and, at my request, Mr Clarke took it down from his singing. When
I gave it to Johnson, I added some stanzas to the song and mended others,
but still it will not do for you. In a solitary stroll which I took to-day, I
tried my hand on a few pastoral lines, following up the idea of the old
chorus, which I would preserve."]
SHE SAYS SHE LOES ME BEST OF A J .
Tune " Oonagh's Waterfall."
SAE flaxen were her ringlets,
Her eyebrows of a darker hue,
Bewitchingly o'er-arcbing
Twa laughing e'en o' lovely blue ;
Her smiling, sae wyling,
Wad make a wretch forget his woe ;
What pleasure, what treasure,
Unto these rosy lips to grow !
Such was my Chloris' bonie face,
When first that bonie face I saw ;
And ay my Chloris' dearest charm-
She says, she lo'es me best of a*.
Like harmony her motion,
Her pretty ancle is a spy,
140 Poems dnd Songs. [i794-
Betraying fair proportion,
Wad make a saint forget the sky :
Sae warming, sae charming,
Her fautless form and gracefu' air ;
Ilk feature auld Nature
Declar'd that she could do nae mair :
Hers are the willing chains o' love,
By conquering Beauty's sovereign la\v \
And still my Chloris' dearest charm
She says, she lo'es me best of a'.
Let others love the city,
And gaudy show, 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 his sang :
There, dearest Chloris, wilt thou rove,
By wimpling burn and leafy shaw,
And hear my vows o' truth and love,
And say, thou lo'es me best of a'.
[This gushing effusion, sent to Thomson in September 1794, is ushered in
with the following remarks : " Do you know, my dear Sir, a blackguard
Irish song called ' Oonagh's Waterfall '? Our friend Cunningham sings it
delightfully. The air is charming, and I have often regretted the want of
decent verses to it. It is too much, at least for my humble rustic Muse, to
expect that every effort of hers must have merit ; still, I think that it is
better to have mediocre verses to a favourite air than none at all. On this
principle I have all along proceeded in the ' Scots Musical Museum ; ' and
as that publication is at its last volume, I intend the following song to the
air above mentioned, for that work."
Thomson in reply said : " She says she Iocs me best of a.' is one of the
pleasantest table-songs I have seen, and henceforth shall be mine when the
song is going round."]
^ET. 36.] Poems and Songs. 141
TO DR MAXWELL,
ON MISS JESSY STAIG'S RECOVERY.
MAXWELL, if here you merit crave,
That merit I deny ;
You save fair Jessie from the grave \
An Angel could not die !
[In September 1794, the poet closed one of his letters to Thomson by in-
troducing this Epigram thus : " How do you like the following epigram,
which I wrote the other day on a lovely young girl's recovery from a fever?
Dr Maxwell the identical Maxwell whom Burke mentioned in the House
of Commons, was the physician who seemingly saved her from the grave."
The reader will understand that Miss Jessy Staig was the heroine of the
song, "Lovely Young Jessie."]
TO THE BEAUTIFUL MISS ELIZA J N,
ON HER PRINCIPLES OF LIBERTY AND EQUALITY.
How, Liberty ! girl, can it be by thee nam'd ?
Equality too ! hussey, art not asham'd ?
Free and Equal indeed, while mankind thou enchainest,
And over their hearts a proud Despot so reignest.
[This is one of the scraps sent by the author to Mr Creech on soth May
1795. We are unable to point out who the lady was.]
ON CHLORIS
REQUESTING ME TO GIVE HER A SPRIG OF BLOSSOMED
THORN.
FROM the white-blossom'd sloe my dear Chloris requested
A sprig, her fair breast to adorn :
No, by Heavens ! I exclaim'd, let me perish, if ever
I plant in that bosom a thorn !
[These lines are included among the seventeen Epigrams forwarded
by the poet to Mr Creech in May 1795. Charles Dibdin added a
142 Poems and Songs. [ I 794-
stanza, lo make the song of reasonable length. The added stanza b as
follows:
" When I shewed her the ring and implor'd her to marry,
She blush'd like the dawning of morn :
Yes, I will 1 she replied, if you'll promise, dear Harry,
No rival shall laugh me to scorn."]
ON SEEING MRS KEMBLE IN YARICO.
KEMBLE, thou cur'st my unbelief
Of Moses and his rod ;
At Yarico's sweet note of grief
The rock with tears had flow'd.
[This lady was the wife of Stephen Kemble, " the Fat," who played
Falstaff without stuffing. Her maiden name was Satchell. Boaden is
enthusiastic in her praise. (See his Life of Mrs Siddons, p. 214, Vol. I.)
" From many fair eyes now shut have we seen her Ophelia, draw tears in
the mad scene : she was a delicious Juliet, and an altogether incomparable
Yarico." Blackwood 's Magazine, 1832. This epigram is one of the seven-
teen sent to Creech. Mrs Kemble made her first appearance in Dumfries,
in the Opera of " Inkle and Yarico," in October 1794-]
EPIGRAM ON A COUNTRY LAIRD,
NOT QUITE SO WISE AS SOLOMON.
BLESS Jesus Christ, O Cardoness,
With grateful, lifted eyes,
Who taught that not the soul alone,
But body too shall rise ;
For had He said " the soul alone
From death I will deliver,"
Alas, alas ! O Cardoness,
Then hadst thou lain for ever.
[Mr David Maxwell of Cardoness was the gentleman thus satirized ; but
we are not aware what personal ground of offence he had given to our poet.
A daughter of this gentleman became the second wife of Wm. Cunninghame,
Esq., of Enterkine, whose first wife, a daughter of Mrs Stewart of Afton
Lodge, died in 1809.
/"ET. 36.] Poems ana Songs. 143
ON BEING SHEWN A BEAUTIFUL COUNTRY
SEAT
BELONGING TO THE SAME LAIRD.
WE grant they're thine, those beauties all,
So lovely in our eye ;
Keep them, thou eunuch, Cardoness,
For others to enjoy !
[This also occurs among the " poetic clinches " sent by Burns to Creech
in May 1795. The satirist here compares to a eunuch possessed of a beautiful
mistress, the landowner who has not the soul to enjoy his own beautiful
estate. This Laird ranked higher in the opinion of some others than in that
of Burns. In 1804 he was made a Baronet. He survived to 1825-]
ON HEARING IT ASSERTED FALSEHOOD
IS EXPRESSED IN THE REV. DR BABINGTON'S VERY
LOOKS.
THAT there is a falsehood in his looks,
I must and will deny :
They tell their Master is a knave,
And sure they do not lie.
[This very severe thing is recorded by Burns himself in the Glenriddell
volume now at Liverpool; and it was also one of the trifles sent to Creech
in May 1795.]
ON A SUICIDE.
EARTH'D up, here lies an imp o' hell,
Planted by Satan's dibble ;
Poor silly wretch, he's damned himsel',
To save the Lord the trouble.
144 Poems and Songs. ['794-
ON A SWEARING COXCOMB.
HERE cursing, swearing Burton lies,
A buck, a beau, or " Dem my eyes !"
Who in his life did little good,
And his last words were, " Dem my blood !
ON AN INNKEEPER NICKNAMED 'THE
MARQUIS. 1
HERE lies a mock Marquis, whose titles were shamm'd,
If ever he rise, it will be to be damn'd.
ON ANDREW TURNER.
IN se'enteen hunder 'n forty-nine,
The deil gat stuff to mak a swine,
An' coost it in a corner ;
But wilily he chang'd his plan,
An' shap'd it something like a man,
An' ca'd it Andrew Turner.
[These four epigrams we have classed together, as requiring little
comment, and as exhausting the trifles of that kind attributed to Burns
which we deem worthy of being reproduced here. Cunningham tells a
circumstantial story of the first of these, which we can scarcely credit ; for
we think the kindly poet would have bestowed a tear of pity rather than
waste his satire on such a forlorn wretch.
Andrew Turner, the hero of the last of them, was a " haveril," who had
the vanity to ask Burns to make an epigram on him : 1749 was the year of
Andrew's birth.]
PRETTY PEG.
As I gaed up by yon gate-end,
When day was waxin weary,
Wha did I meet come down the street,
But pretty Peg, my dearie !
T. 36.] Poems and Songs. 145
Her air sae sweet, an' shape complete,
Wi' nae proportion wanting,
The Queen of Love did never move
Wi' motion mair enchanting.
\Vi' linked hands we took the sands,
Adown yon winding river ;
Oh, that sweet hour and shady bower,
Forget it shall I never !
[These stanzas were first published in the Edinburgh Magazine for 1818
ESTEEM FOR CHLORIS.
AH, Chloris, since it may not be,
That thou of love wilt hear ;
If from the lover thou maun flee,
Yet let the friend be dear.
Altho' I love my Chloris, mair
Than ever tongue could tell ;
My passion I will ne'er declare
I'll say, I wish thee well.
Tho' a' my daily care thou art,
And a' my nightly dream,
I'll hide the struggle in my heart,
And say it is esteem.
[There is considerable elegance in these lines, reminding one of the poet's
manner in his earlier lines to Clarinda.]
SAW YOU MY DEAR, MY PHILLY.
Tune " When she cam' ben she bobbet."
O SAW ye my Dear, my Philly ?
O saw ye my Dear, my Philly,
She's down i' the grove, she's wi' a new Love,
She winna come hame to her Willy.
HI. K
146 Poems and Songs.
What says she my Dear, my Philly ?
What says she my Dear, my Philly ?
She lets thee to wit she has thee forgot,
And for ever disowns thee, her Willy.
O had I ne'er seen thee, my Philly !
O had I ne'er seen thee, my Philly !
As light as the air, and fause as thou's fair,
Thou's broken the heart o' thy Willy.
HOW LANG AND DREARY IS THE NIGHT.
Tune" Cauld Kail in Aberdeen."
How lang and dreary is the night
When I am frae my Dearie ;
I restless lie frae e'en to morn
Tho' I were ne'er sae weary.
Chorus. 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
I spent wi' thee, my Dearie ;
And now what seas between us roar,
How can I be but eerie ?
For oh, &c.
How slow 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, &c.
[The reader will see that this song is merely a new adaptation, without
hcing an improvement, of a fine song already given. This alteration was
made in order to carry out the poet's vow to have a song in honour of
>ET. 36.] Poems and Songs. 147
Chloris to suit the air " Cauld Kail," and Thomson, who declined setting
to that tune two former songs written expressly for it, appears to have been
satisfied with this. Burns says in his next letter, " I am happy that I have
at last pleased you with verses to your right hand tune Cauld Kail"]
INCONSTANCY IN LOVE.
Tune " Duncan Gray."
LET not Woman e'er complain
Of inconstancy in love ;
Let not Woman e'er complain
Fickle Man is apt to rove :
Look abroad thro' Nature's range,
Nature's mighty Law is change,
Ladies, would it not seem strange
Man should then a monster prove !
Mark the winds, and mark the skies,
Ocean's ebb, and ocean's flow,
Sun and moon but set to rise,
Round and round the seasons go.
Why then ask of silly Man
To oppose great nature's plan ?
We'll be constant while we can
You can be no more you know.
[This song, sent on igth October 1794, as English words for the tune
" Duncan Gray," was produced at a time when the Muse of Burns was
more than usually active. He gives Chloris the credit of this; but at the
same time shows that the sentiments of the song in the text are the prevail-
ing ones in his own practice. Poor Clarinda is nowhere now! He recom-
mends Thomson to adapt one of her songs, " Talk not of love, it gives me
pain," to the air " My lodging is on the cold ground." His words are,
"There is a song in the Museum by a ci-devant goddess of mine, which I
think not unworthy of that air." Chambers makes the following philosophi-
cal observations on this matter, which are too valuable to lose sight of:
" It was right, even in these poetico- Platonic affairs, to be ' off with the old
love before he was on with the new.' Yet it was only four months before
that Burns had addressed Mrs M'Lehose as ' My ever dearest Clarindal'
148 Poems and Songs. [i794-
A letter of simple friendship was then too cold to be attempted. O Woman-
kind ! think of that when you are addressed otherwise than in the language
of sober common-sense! So lately as June, 'my ever dearest, 1 and now
only ' a ci-devant goddess 1 ' "]
THE LOVER'S MORNING SALUTE TO HIS
MISTRESS.
Tune "Deil tak the wars."
SLEEP'ST thou, or wak'st thou, fairest creature ?
Rosy morn now lifts his eye,
Numbering ilka bud which Nature
Waters wi' the tears o' joy.
Now, to the streaming fountain,
Or up the heathy mountain,
The hart, hind, and roe, freely, wildly-wanton stray ;
In twining hazel bowers,
Its lay the linnet pours,
The laverock to the sky
Ascends, wi' sangs o' joy ?
While the sun and thou arise to bless the day.
Phoebus gilding the brow of morning,
Banishes ilk darksome shade,
Nature, gladdening and adorning ;
Such to me my lovely maid.
When frae my Chloris parted,
Sad, cheerless, broken-hearted,
The night's gloomy shades, cloudy, dark, o'ercast my sky :
But when she charms my sight,
In pride of Beauty's light
When thro' my very heart
Her burning glories dart ;
Tis then 'tis then I wake to life and joy I
[This song was transmitted with the three preceding effusions on igth
October 1794, and thus he concluded his communication : " Since the above,
I have been out in the country taking dinner with a friend, where I met
jET. 36.] Poems and Songs. 149
with the lady whom I mentioned in the second page of this odds-and-ends
of a letter. As usual, I got into song ; and in returning home composed
the following." He afterwards transcribed the song with some variations,
and added " I could easily throw this into an English mould ; but, to my
taste, in the simple and tender of the Pastoral song, a sprinkling of the old
Scots has an inimitable effect. The air, if I understand the expression of
it properly, is the very native language of Simplicity, Tenderness and
Love/ 1 ]
THE WINTER OF LIFE.
BUT lately seen in gladsome green,
The woods rejoic'd the day,
Thro' gentle showers, the laughing flowers
In double pride were gay :
But now our joys are fled
On winter blasts awa' ;
Yet maiden May, in rich array,
Again shall bring them a'.
But my white pow, nae kindly thowe
Shall melt the snaws of Age ;
My trunk of eild,* but buss or beild } t
Sinks in Time's wintry rage.
Oh, Age has weary days,
And nights o' sleepless pain :
Thou golden time o' Youthfu' prime,
Why comes thou not again !
[It seems very evident that the vigour of the poet's constitution, before
the close of 1794, began to give way under the tear and wear of disappointed
hopes, and the effects of his occasional imprudent course of life. We can
scarcely believe that the brawny farmer and exciseman had exhibited these
symptoms so early as the autumn of 1791, as conceived by the late Sir
Egerton Brydges in his imaginary interview with Burns at Ellisland at that
period, in the following language : " His great Beauty was his manly
strength, and his energy and elevation of thought and feeling. I perceived
in Burns's cheek the symptoms of an energy which had been pushed too
* decayed trunk. t without bush or shelter.
150 Poems and Songs. [i794-
far ; and he had this feeling himself, for every now and then, he spoke of
the grave as soon about to close over him."
The first hint we find in his correspondence of the constitutional declinf
referred to is in his letter to Mrs Dunlop 25th June 1794 where he says ,
" To tell you that I have been in poor health will not be excuse enough for
neglecting your correspondence, though it is true. I am afraid that I am
about to suffer for the follies of my youth. My medical friends threaten me
with a flying gout; but I trust they are mistaken." The reader may
remember the poet's words to Thomson, in May 1796, when he was
approaching his exit from the stage of life " I have now reason to believe
that my complaint is a flying gout, a sad business 1 " On 2$th December
of this year (1794), in writing to Mrs Dunlop, he thus again reverts to his
consciousness of physical decay " I already begin to feel the rigid fibre
and stiffening joints of old age coming fast o'er my frame." These feelings
are freel}' depicted in the little song which forms our text, irresistibly
recalling his prophetic words of warning, delivered to his youthful compeers
in 1786, when the speaker was in the flush of youth and hope :
"Ye tiny elves that guiltless sport,
Like linnets in the bush,
Ye little know the ills ye court,
When manhood is your wish !
The losses, the crosses, that active man engage,
The fears all, the tears all, of dim declining Age !"]
BEHOLD, MY LOVE, HOW GREEN THE
GROVES.
Tune " My lodging is on the cold ground."
November 1794. On my visit the other day to my fair Chloris (that is
the poetic name of the lovely goddess of my inspiration), she suggested
an idea which, on my return from the visit, I wrought into the following
song:
BEHOLD, my love, how green the groves, 1
The primrose banks how fair ;
The balmy gales awake the flowers,
And wave thy flowing hair. 2
1 In the MS. this reads, " My Chloris, mark how green," &c., but in Feb.
1796, the poet sanctioned the change thus : " In my by-past songs I dislike
one thing the name of Chloris."
2 The change from " flaxen ' \.Q flowing hair t is also thus sanctioned by
Burns in the same letter to Thomson (Feb. 1796): "I have more amend-
36.] Poems and Songs. 151
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 lighted ha' :
The Shepherd stops his simple reed,
Blythe in the birken shaw.
The Princely revel may survey
Our rustic dance wi' scorn ;
But are their hearts as light as ours,
Beneath the milk-white thorn !
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.
["How do you like the simplicity and tenderness of this pastoral? 1
think it pretty well. I like you for entering so candidly and so kindly into
the story cf ' ma chere amie." Conjugal love is a passion which I deeply
feel and highly venerate ; but somehow it does not make such a figure in
poesy as that other species of the passion, ' where love is liberty, and nature
law ' Musically speaking, the first is an instrument of which the gamut is
scanty and confined, but the tones inexpressibly sweet, while the last has
powers equal to all the intellectual modulation of the human soul."]
ments to propose. What you once mentioned of ' flaxen locks ' is just : they
cannot enter into an elegant description of beauty. Of this also again
God bless you. R. B."
152 Poems and Songs* [i794-
THE CHARMING MONTH OF MAY.
SONG, ALTERED FROM AN OLD ENGLISH ONE.
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
From peaceful slumber she arose,
Girt on her mantle and her hose,
And o'er the flow'ry mead she goes
The youthful, charming Chloe
Chorus Lovely was she by the dawn,
Youthful Chloe, charming Chloe,
Tripping 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,
Outrival'd by the radiant eyes
Of youthful, charming Chloe.
Lovely was she, &c.
["You may think meanly of this," wrote the poet to Thomson in tians-
mitting it, along with the preceding song, and that which follows, "but
take a look at the bombast original, and you will be surprised that I have
made so much of it." The name "Chloe " will suggest to the reader that
it is a diminutive of " Chloris," and also probably that occasional meetings
between the poet and her took place at sunrise. It is more likely that, after
a moonlight rove adown by Clouden side, the sun might overtake the lovers
on their way home. The " bombast original " of the present song is to be
found in the " Tea Table Miscellany."]
/ET. 36.] Poems and Songs. 153
LASSIE WP THE LINT-WHITE LOCKS
Tune " Rothiemurchie's Rant."
Chorus Lassie wi' the lint-white locks,
Bonie lassie, artless lassie,
Wilt thou \vi } me tent the flocks,
Wilt thou be my Dearie, O ?
Now Nature deeds the flowery lea,
And a' is young and sweet like thee,
O wilt thou share its joys wi' me,
And say thou'lt be my Dearie, O.
Lassie wi' the, &c.
The primrose bank, the wimpling burn,
The cuckoo on the milk-white thorn,
The wanton lambs at early morn,
Shall welcome thee, my Dearie, O.
Lassie wi' the, &c.
And when the welcome simmer shower
Has cheer'd ilk drooping little flower,
We'll to the breathing woodbine-bower,
At sultry noon, my Dearie, O.
Lassie wi' the, &c.
When Cynthia lights, wi' silver ray,
The weary shearer's hameward way,
Thro' yellow waving fields we'll stray,
And talk o' love, my Dearie, O.
Lass wi' the, &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, &c.
fThe poet, in transmitting this fine effusion, thus wrote- regarding it '
"This piece has at least the merit of a regular pastoral : the vernal morn,
1 54 Poems and Songs. [ 1 7 94-
the summer noon, the autumnal evening, and the winter night are regularly
rounded."
Cunningham has the following interesting note attached to this song :
" Those acquainted with the Poet's life and habits of study, will perceive
much of both in the sweet song, ' Lassie wi 1 the lint-white locks.' Dumfries
is a small town ; a few steps carried Burns to green lanes, daisied brae-
sides, and quiet stream banks. Men returning from labour were sure to
meet him ' all under the light of the moon,' sauntering forth as if he had no
aim ; his hands behind his back, his hat turned up a little behind by the
shortness of his neck, and noting all, yet seeming to note nothing. Those
who got near enough to him without being seen, might hear him humming
some old Scots air, and fitting verses to it the scene and the season sup-
plying the imagery, and the Jeans, the Nancies, and Phillises of his admira-
tion, furnishing bright eyes, white hands, and waving tresses, as the turn of
the song required."]
DIALOGUE SONG. PHILLY AND WILLY.
Tune" The Sow's tail to Geordie."
He. O Philly, happy be that day,
When roving thro' the gather'd hay,
My youthfu' heart was stown away,
And by thy charms, my Philly.
She. O Willy, ay I bless the grove
Where first I own'd my maiden love,
Whilst thou did pledge the Powers above,
To be my ain dear Willie.
Both. For a' the joys that gowd can ie,
I dinna care a single flie ;
The J! ad h love's the JI ad [ for me,
( lass 5 (lass)
And that's my ain dear
He. As songsters of the early year,
Are ilka day mair sweet to hear,
So ilka day to me mair dear
And charming is my Philly.
/ET. 36.] Poems and Songs. 155
She. As on the brier the budding rose,
Still richer breathes and fairer blows,
So in my tender bosom grows
The love I bear my Willie,
Both. For a' the joys, c.
He. The milder sun and bluer sky
That crown my harvest cares \vi' joy.
Were ne'er sae welcome to my eye
As is a sight o' Philly.
She. The little swallow's wanton wing,
Tho' wafting o'er the flowery Spring,
Did ne'er to me sic tidings bring,
As meeting o' my Willy,
Both. For a' the joys, &c.
He. The bee that thro 5 the sunny hour
Sips nectar in the op'ning flower,
Compar'd wi' my delight is poor,
Upon the lips o' Philly.
She. The woodbine in the dewy weet,
When ev'ning shades in silence meet,
Is nocht sae fragrant or sae sweet
As is a kiss o' Willy.
Both. For a' the joys, &c.
He. Let fortune's wheel at random rin,
And fools may tyne, and knaves may win ;
My thoughts are a' bound up in ane,
And that's my ain dear Philly.
SJie. What's a' the joys that gowd can gie ?
I dinna care a single flic ;
The lad I love's the lad for me,
And that's my ain dear Willy.
Both. For a' the joys, &c.
[In communicating the above to Thomson, on igth November 1794, the
bard thus wrote : " This morning, though a keen blowing frost, in my walk
156 Poems and Songs. [1794-
before breakfast I finished my duet which you were pleased to praise so
much. (September 1794.) Whether I have uniformly succeeded I will not
say; but here it is to you, though not half an hour old. Tell me honestly
how you like it, and point out whatever you think faulty. I am much
pleased with your idea of singing our songs in alternate stanzas, and regret
that you did not hint it to me sooner. In those that remain, I shall have it
in my eye "
In September the poet suggested the tune as a suitable one for Thomson's
publication, and proposed to compose words for it in the dialogue form, the
hero and heroine of which would be Mr and Mrs George Thomson. But
their names, Geordie and Kirsty, being deemed too burlesque for sentiment,
the song was completed as it appears in the text, and Thomson has given
it a place in his collection. The title of the melody, however, being offen-
sive to the refinement of Mr Thomson, is genteelly styled, in his publication,
11 A Jacobite Air."]
CONTENTED WI' LITTLE AND CANTIE
WI' MAIR.
CONTENTED wi' little, and cantie * wi' mair,
Whene'er I forgather wi' Sorrow and Care,
I gie them a skelp t as they're creepin alang,
Wi' a cog o' gude swats \ and an auld Scottish sang.
Chorus Contented wi' little, &c
I whyles claw || the elbow o' troublesome thought ;
But Man is a soger, and Life is a faught ;
My mirth and gude humour are coin in my pouch,
And my Freedom's my Lairdship nae monarch dare touch.
Contented wi' little, &c.
A towmond IT o' trouble, should that be my fa', **
A night o' gude fellowship sowthers tt it a' :
When at the blythe end o' our journey at last,
Wha the deil ever thinks o' the road he has past ?
Contented wi' little, &c.
* joyful. t dash them aside. t ale. at times.
I scratch. ^ twelvemonth. ** fate. ft solders.
&T. 36.] Poems and Songs. 157
Blind Chance, let her snapper and stoyte * on her way ;
Be't to me, be't frae me, e'en let the jade gae :
Come Ease, or come Travail, come Pleasure or Pain,
My warst word is : ' ' Welcome, and welcome again ! "
Contented wi' little, &c.
[This blythe song derives special interest from the fact that the poet,
while intimating to Thomson that some travelling artist had just executed
a very successful miniature likeness of him (" what I am at this moment"),
added " I have some thoughts of suggesting to you to prefix a vignette
taken from it, to my song, ' Contented wi' little and cantie wi' mair,' in order
that the portrait of my face and the picture of my mind may go down the
stream of time together."]
FAREWELL THOU STREAM.
Air" Nansie's to the greenwood gane."
FAREWELL, thou stream that winding flows
Around Eliza's dwelling ;
mem'ry ! spare the cruel throes
Within my bosom swelling.
Condemn'd to drag a hopeless chain
And yet in secret languish ;
To feel a fire in every vein,
Nor dare disclose my anguish.
Love's veriest wretch, unseen, unknown,
I fain my 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, O Eliza, hear one prayer
For pity's sake forgive me !
stumble and
1 58 Poems and Songs. [ 1 794.
The music of thy voice I heard,
Nor wist while it enslav'd me !
I saw thine eyes, yet nothing fear'd,
Till fears no more had sav'd me :
Th' unwary sailor thus, aghast
The wheeling torrent viewing,
'Mid circling horrors sinks at last,
In overwhelming ruin.
[This is merely an amended version of the song beginning, " The last
time I came o'er the moor." Chambers observes that " the change most
remarkable is the substitution of Eliza for Maria. The alienation of Airs
Riddell, and the poet's resentment against her, must have rendered the
latter name no longer tolerable to him ; one can only wonder that, with his
new and painful associations regarding that lady, he could endure the song
itself, or propose laying it before the world."
CANST THOU LEAVE ME THUS, MY KATIE.
Tune* Roy's Wife."
Chorus Canst thou leave me thus, my Katie ?
Canst thou leave me thus, my Katie ?
Well thou know'st my aching heart,
And canst thou leave me thus, for pity ?
Is this thy plighted, fond regard,
Thus cruelly to part, my Katie ?
Is this thy faithful swain's reward
An aching, broken heart, my Katie !
Canst thou leave me, &c.
Farewell ! and ne'er such sorrows tear
That fickle heart of thine, my Katie !
Thou mayest find those will love thee dear,
But not a love like mine, my Katie.
Canst thou leave me, &c.
[Burns sent the above to Thomson on igth November 1794, as English
verses to appear on the same page with Mrs Grant of Carron's song, " Roy's
wife of Aldivalloch." Dr Currie, in form of a foot-note to the text, printed
/ET. 36.] Poems and Songs. 159
a composition of Mrs Walter Riddell, intended for singing to the same air,
which reads like a reply to Burns's song. It was found among the poet's
papers after his death, in the handwriting of the authoress, and Chambers
accordingly correctly infers that our poet had sent Mrs Riddell a copy of
the present song, as " a poetical expression of the more gentle feeling he
was now beginning to entertain towards her." He conjectures that the
injured lady, regarding that act " as a sort of olive-branch held out to her,
received it in no unkindly spirit," and interchanged compliments by
answering the song in the same strain and sending it to Burns.
MY N ANTE'S AWA.
Tune "There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame."
Now in her green mantle blythe Nature arrays,
And listens the lambkins that bleat o'er her braes
While birds warble welcomes in ilka green shaw ,
But to me it's delightless my Nanie's awa.
The snawdrap and primrose our woodlands adorn,
And violets bathe in the weet o' the morn ;
They pain my sad bosom, sae sweetly they bla\v,
They mind me o' Nanie, and Nanie's awa.
Thou lav'rock that springs frae the dews of the lawn,
The shepherd to warn o' the grey-breaking dawn,
And thou mellow mavis that hails the night-fa',
Give over for pity my Nanie's awa.
Come Autumn, sae pensive, in yellow and grey,
And soothe me wi' tidings o' Nature's decay :
The dark, dreary Winter, and wild-driving snaw
Alane can delight me now Nanie's awa.
[The post-mark of the letter which communicated this admired song to
Thomson is of date December gth, 1794, and the poet says : " I have just
framed for you the following : how does it please you ? " The grandson of
Mrs M'Lehose, who endeavoured to appropriate, as compliments to his
distinguished ancestress, every production of Burns in which the name of
Nancy or Nanie occurs, distinctly states that the present song was com-
160 Poems and Songs. [i?94-
posed in the summer of 1792, during the absence of Clarinda in the West
Indies. Unfortunately the manuscript of it was never seen in the possession
of that lady or her representatives. This lyric certainly reads like an
appropriate sequel in the history of Burns's passion for Clarinda.
In January 1788, the following eloquent pas?age in one of Clarinda's
letters to Burns was justly admired by him ; he said : " I shall certainly
steal it, and set it in some future production, and get immortal fame by it."
He did not forget the hint in his Elegy on Matthew Henderson ; and it is
again adopted in the present song : " Oh, let the scenes of Nature remind
you of Clarinda ! In Winter, remember the dark shades of her fate in
Summer, the warmth of her friendship in Autumn her glowing wishes to
bestow plenty on all and let Spring animate you with the hopes that your
friend may yet surmount the wintry blasts of life, and revive to taste a
spring-time of happiness. At all events, Sylvander, the storms of life will
quickly pass, and ' one unbounded Spring encircle all.' Love there is no
crime. I charge you to meet me there 1"]
THE TEAR-DROP.
WAE is my heart, and the tear's in my e'e ;
Lang, lang has Joy been a stranger to me :
Forsaken and friendless, my burden I bear,
And the sweet voice o' Pity ne'er sounds in my car.
Love thou hast pleasures, and deep hae I luv'd ;
Love, thou hast sorrows, and sair hae I pruv'd ;
But this bruised heart that now bleeds in my breast,
I can feel by its throbbings, will soon be at rest.
Oh, if I were where happy I hae been
Down by yon stream, and yon bonie castle-green ;
For there he is wand'ring and musing on me,
Wha wad soon dry the tear-drop that clings to rny e'e.
[This pathetic little ballad is formed of Burns's very best material in-
deed, he never excelled it. The stanza in Clarinda's Ae fond Kiss "Had
we never lov'd sae kindly," &c , which has been so highly commended as
" the alpha and omega of feeling," is nearly matched by the second verse
oi the present text.]
. 36.] Poems and Songs. 161
FOR THE SAKE O' SOMEBODY.
MY heart is sair I dare na tell,
My heart is sair for Somebody ;
I could wake a winter night
For the sake o' Somebody.
O-hon ! for Somebody !
O-hey ! for Somebody !
I could range the world around,
For the sake o' Somebody.
Ye Powers that smile on virtuous love,
O, sweetly smile on Somebody !
Frae ilka danger keep him free,
And send me safe my Somebody !
O-hon ! for Somebody !
O-hey ! for Somebody !
I wad do what wad I not ?
For the sake o' Somebody.
[The editor of Hamilton's "Select Songs of Scotland" (1848), thus wrote
regarding the present song : " It shows how perfect was Burns's idea of
what was necessary to constitute a lasting and happy union between words
and music. We do not know a single song where the union is so happy.
The sentiment of the music becomes elevated or pathetic just at the proper
places, and seems as if no other medium of expression could ever by any
chance be dreamt of than that which our national poet chose for his fine love
words."]
A MAN'S A MAN FOR A' THAT.
Tune" For a' that."
Is there for honest Poverty
That hings his head, an' a' that ;
The coward slave we pass him by,
We dare be poor for a' that !
III. L
162 Poems and Songs. [ 1 79S-
For a' that, an' a' that,
Our toils obscure an' a' that,
The rank is but the guinea's stamp,
The Man's the gowd for a' that.
What though on namely fare we dine,
Wear hodclin * grey, an' a' that ;
Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine,
A Man's a Man for a' that :
For a' that, an' a' that,
Their tinsel show, an' a' that ;
The honest man, tho' e'er sae poor,
Is king o' men for a' that.
Ye see yon birkie t ca'd " a lord,"
Wha struts, an' stares, an' a' that :
Tho' hundreds worship at his word,
He's but a coof J for a' that :
For a' that, an' a' that,
His ribband, star, an' a' that ;
The man o' independent mind
He looks an' laughs at a' that.
A prince can mak a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, an' a' that ;
But an honest man's aboon his might,
Gude faith, he mauna fa' that !
For a' that, an' a' that,
Their dignities an' a' that ;
The pith o' sense, an' pride o' worth.
Are higher rank than a' that.
Then let us pray that come it may,
(As come it will for a' that,)
That Sense and Worth, o'er a' the earth,
Shall bear the gree,|| an' a' that.
* cloth of coarse wool. t forward fellow. 1 'urainless person.
attempt I! pre-eminence.
y"ET. 36.] Poems and Songs. 163
For a' that, an' a' that,
It's comin yet for a' that,
The Man to Man, the world o'er,
Shall brothers be for a' that.
[This performance was produced on ist January 1795, and is so charac-
teristic of Burns, that of all the poems and songs he ever wrote, it could be
least spared from a collection of his works. Beranger of France, Goethe of
Germany, and indeed, people abroad of every nation, quote its generous
and powerful couplets whenever they speak of Burns. The French Revol-
ution was now emerging from its bloody baptism- On s8th July preceding,
Robespierre, with his chief partisans, perished on the guillotine which they
had so freely and wantonly kept in perpetual motion. In October the
Jacobin Club had been suppressed, and the trials of Home Tooke, of Hardy,
Thelwall, and others, for treason in this country, closely followed. The
sentiments therefore which are embodied in Burns's song found an echo in
many a British heart.]
CRAIGIEBURN WOOD.
SECOND VERSION.
SWEET fa's the eve on Craigieburn,
And blythe awakes the morrow ;
But a' the pride o' Spring's return
Can yield me nocht but sorrow.
I see the flowers and spreading trees,
I hear the wild birds singing ;
I'ut what a weary wight can please,
And Care his bosom wringing !
Fain, fain would I my griefs impart,
Yet dare na for your anger ;
But secret love will break my heart,
If 1 conceal it langer.
If thou refuse to pity me,
If ihou shall love another,
164 Poems and Songs. [i795-
When yon green leaves fade frae the tree,
Around my grave they'll wither.
[This is little else than a smooth abridgement of the song of same title
formerly given. These verses were forwarded to Thomson in the sam
letter that communicated " A man's a man for a' that." The poet was then
engaged in the work of Supervisor of Excise, devolvir^ on him in conse-
sequence of the illness of Mr Findlater, his immediate superior officer, which
extra employment seems to have lasted nearly four months.
About that period the poet thus wrote to one of his patrons, regarding his
prospects of Excise advancement ; " I am on the supervisor's list, and as
we come on by precedency, in two or three years I shall be at the head of
that list, and be appointed of course. Then, a FRIEND might be of
service to me in getting me into a place of the kingdom which I would like.
A supervisor's income varies from about ^120 to ^200 a year ; but the
business is an incessant drudgery, and would be nearly a complete bar to
every species of literary pursuit. The moment I am appointed supervisor,
in the common routine, I may be nominated on the Collector's list ; and
this is always a business of purely political patronage. A collectorship
varies much, from better than ^200 to near .1000 a year. A life of literary
leisure, with a decent competency, is the summit of my wishes." So it
appears that even Burns amused himself at times with " building castles in
the air."]
Fer0iele0 of 1795.
THE SOLEMN LEAGUE AND COVENANT
THE Solemn League and Covenant
Now brings a smile, now brings a tear ;
But sacred Freedom, too, was theirs :
If thou'rt a slave, indulge thy sneer.
[We believe that the public is indebted to Mr William M'Dowall, editor
of the Dumfries Standard, for the discovery of these lines. The books in
the public Library of which Burns was a member are now the property of
the Dumfries and Maxwelltown Mechanics' Institution, and the poet had
evidently borrowed the i3th vol. of Sir John Sinclair's Statistical Account
of Scotland. Under the head " Balmaghie " a notice is given of several
martyred Covenanters belonging to that parish, and the rude yet expressive
lines engraved on their tombstones are quoted at length. The reverend
clergyman who compiled the description, in referring to these rhymed
^ET. 36.] Poems and Songs. 165
inscriptions somewhat sneeringly observes that their authors "no doubt
conceived they were making good poetry."
Burns administered a rebuke to the compiler by pencilling on the opposite
margin the lines which form the text. They are not signed or initialed ; but
the handwriting of the bard is unmistakable.]
COMPLIMENTS TO JOHN SYME OF RYEDALE.
LINES SENT WITH A PRESENT OF A DOZEN OF PORTER.
O HAD the malt thy strength of mind,
Or hops the flavour of thy wit,
'Twere drink for first of human kind,
A gift that ev'n for Syme were fit.
JERUSALEM TAVERN, DUMFRIES.
INSCRIPTION ON A GOBLET.
THERE'S Death in the cup, so beware !
Nay, more there is danger in touching ;
But who can avoid the fell snare,
The man and his wine's so bewitching !
[This is said to have been inscribed by Burns on a crystal goblet in the
house of Mr Syme, when pressed to stay and drink more.]
APOLOGY FOR DECLINING AN INVITATION
TO DINE.
No more of your guests, be they titled or not,
And cookery the first in the nation ;
Who is proof to thy personal converse and wit,
Is proof to all other temptation.
[Dr Currie gives the date of this last Epigram to have been i7th Decem-
ber 1795, when Burns was in ill-health. Mr Syme had invited him to dine,
and held out to him the temptation of the best company and the finest
166 Poems and Songs. [i/95-
cookery. Mr John Syme was distributor of stamps in Dumfries, and had
his office on the ground floor of the tenement in which Burns took up his
residence on first coming to Dumfries. Being a man of literary tastes and
accomplishments, the poet became very intimate with him, and frequently
submitted his productions to the criticism of his friend. Chambers remarks
that "Syme, like many other man of lively temperament, could not boast of
historical accuracy in his narration of events. He most undoubtedly was
carried away by his imagination in his statement regarding the composition
of Bruce's Address to his troops. So also he appears to have been misled in
a less agreeable, though equally picturesque story, about Burns having, in
a moment of passion, drawn a sword-cane against him in his own house."
In 1829 Syme published some observations regarding Burns's personal
appearance, and a portion of his picture we may here give : " His eyes and
lips the first remarkable for fire, and the second for flexibility formed at
all times an index of his mind, and, as sunshine or shade predominated, you
might have told, d priori, whether the company was to be favoured with a
scintillation of wit, or a sentiment of benevolence, or a burst of fiery indig-
nation. In his animated moments, and particularly when his anger was
roused by instances of tergiversation, meanness cr tyranny, they were
actually like coals of living fir*,"]
EPITAPH FOR MR GABRIEL RICHARDSON.
HERE Brewer Gabriel's fire's extinct,
And empty all his barrels :
He's blest if, as he brew'd, he drink,
In upright, honest morals.
[This gentleman was the principal brewer in Dumfries. He was provost
of the burgh in 1802-1803. It appears that the eldest son of the poet and
the eldest son of the brewer entered on the same day as pupils with Mr
Gray, at the Grammar School. The provost's son became a great traveller
and naturalist, and ultimately received the honour of knighthood. The
above epigram was inscribed by the poet on a crystal goblet, which is still
in possession of Lady Richardson.
We do not regard it as one of our poet's most successful efforts in that line.
Its aim is intelligible enough ; but, through some defect of structure, its
verbal obscurity is hopeless. The point turns on the homely proverb, " Just
as ye brew, so shall ye drink."]
/<ET. 37.] Poems and Songs. 167
EPIGRAM ON MR JAMES GRACIE.
GRACIE, thou art a man of worth,
O be thou Dean for ever !
May he be d d to hell henceforth,
Who fauts * thy weight or measure !
[The subject of this compliment was a respected banker in Dumfries and
Dean of Guild for the burgh. Among the last occasions on which Burns
used his pen was that of inscribing a note of thanks addressed to him, for
his kind offer to send a carriage too bring the dying bard from Brow to
Dumfries.]
INSCRIPTION AT FRIARS' CARSE
HERMITAGE,
TO THE MEMORY OF ROBERT RIDDELL.
To RIDDELL, much lamented man,
This ivied cot was dear ;
VVand'rer, dost value matchless worth ?
This ivied cot revere.
[We are told that the first time Burns rode up Nithside after the death of
his friend of Friars' Carse, he dismounted and went into the hermitage, and
engraved thcis lines on one of its window-panes.]
HONIE PEG-A-RAMSAY.
CAULD is the e'enin blast
O 3 Boreas o'er the pool,
An' dawin it is dreary,
When birks are bare at Yule.
challenges, or iinds fault wuh.
1 68 Ptems and Songs, [ I 795-
Cauld blaws the e'enin blast,
When bitter bites the frost,
And, in the mirk and dreary drift,
The hills and glens are lost :
Ne'er sae murky blew the night
That drifted o'er the hill,
But bonie Peg-a-Ramsay
Gat grist to her mill.
[The title of this snatch of song is very ancient, as we may infer from its
being quoted in "Twelfth Night," Act ii. Scene 3. Tom D'Urfey in his
" Pills," gives a rude version of the old song.]
OVER SEA, OVER SHORE.
THERE was a bonie lass, and a bonie, bonie lass,
And she loed her bonie laddie dear ;
Till War's loud alarms tore her laddie frae her arms,
Wi' mony a sigh, and a tear.
Over sea, over shore, where the cannons loudly roar,
He still was a stranger to fear ;
And nocht could him quail, or his bosom assail,
But the bonie lass he loed sae dear.
[There is a nice touch of sentiment about this little song, especially when
united to its music, which Stenhouse informs us is a favourite slow march ]
WEE WILLIE GRAY.
WEE Willie Gray, and his leather wallet,
Peel a willow wand to be him boots and jacket ;
The rose upon the breer will be him trews an' doublet,
The rose upon the breer will be him trews an' doublet,
Wee Willie Gray, and his leather wallet,
Twice a lily-flower will be him sark and cravat ;
/ET. 37.] Poems and Songs. 169
Feathers of a flee wad feather up his bonnet,
Feathers of a flee wad feather up his bonnet.
[This little Nursery chant was furnished by our poet to fit an old air called
" Wee Totum Fogg."]
O AY MY WIFE SHE DANG ME.
Chorus O ay my wife she dang * me,
An' aft my wife she bang'd t me,
If ye gie a woman a' her will,
Gude faith ! she'll soon o'er-gang ye.
ON peace an' rest my mind was bent,
And, fool I was ! I married ;
But never honest man's intent
Sae cursedly miscarried.
O ay my wife, &c.
Some sairie J comfort at the last,
When a' thir days are done, man,
My " pains o' hell " on earth is past,
I'm sure o' bliss aboon, man,
O av my wife, &c.
[This is one of the very few bitter songs Burns has written against woman-
kind. In writing to his friend Alexander Cunningham shortly after his
marriage, he thus moralizes : " I am a marrried man of older standing than
you, and shall give you my ideas of the happiness of the conjugal state,
(En passant you know I am no Latinist, but is not "conjugal" derived
fromjugum, a yoke?) Well then ; the scale of good wifeship I divide into
ten parts : Good-nature, 4 ; Good-sense, 2 ; Wit, i ; Personal charms, viz :
a sweet face, eloquent eyes, fine limbs, graceful carriage, (I would add a
fine waist, too, but that is so soon spoilt, you know) all these, i ; as for the
other qualities belonging to, or attending on, a wife, such as fortune, con-
nexions, education (I mean, more than the ordinary run), family, blood, &c.,
divide the two remaining degrees among them as you please. Only
remember that all these minor properties must be expressed by fractions^
for there is not any one of them, in my aforesaid scale, entitled to the
dignity of an integer."'}
discomfited, t beat, knocked me about. \ poor, sorry.
1 70 Fanis and SOK%S. [ 1 795.
GUDE ALE KEEPS THE HEART ABOON.
Chorus O gude ale comes and gude ale goes ;
Gnde ale gars me sell my hose,
Sell my hose, and pawn my shoon
Gude ale keeps my heart aboon !
I HAD sax owsen in a pleugh,
And they drew a' weel eneugh :
I sell'd them a' just ane by ane
Gude ale keeps the heart aboon j
O gude ale comes, &c.
Gude ale hauds me bare and busy,
Gars me moop wi' the servant hizzio,
Stand i' the stool when I hae dune
Gude ale keeps the heart aboon !
O gude ale comes, &c.
[The bulk of this song is by Burns, although a line here and there
belongs to an older strain of even less delicacy. The closing verse has
reference to the old ecclesiastical mode of punishing a certain class of
offences by placing the culprit on a "cutty stool" before the congregation
in church.]
O STEER HER UP AN' HAUD HER GAUN,
O STEER * her up, an' haud her gaun,t
Her mither's at the mill, jo ;
. An' gin she winna tak a man,
E'en let her tak her will, jo.
First shore J her wi' a gentle kis3>
And ca' anither gill, jo ;
An' gin she tak the thing amiss,
E'en let her flyte her fill, jo.
stir, rouse. t in motion. J offer, entice. scold.
/ET. 37-1 Poems and Songs. 171
O steer her up, an' be na blate, *
An' gin she tak it ill, jo,
Then leave the lassie till her fate.
And time nae longer spill, jo :
Ne'er break your heart for ae rebute,t
But think upon it still, jo :
That gin the lassie winna do't,
Ye'll find anither will, jo.
[Excepting the first four lines, which belong to an ancient song of same
title and subject, the song is by Burns.]
THE LASS O' ECCLEFECHAN.
Tune "Jack o' Latin."
GAT ye me, O gat ye me,
O gat ye me wi' naething ?
Rock an reel, and spinning wheel,
A mickle quarter bason :
Bye attour, J my Gutcher has
A heich house and a laich ane,
A' for bye my bonie sel,
The toss 1 1 o' Ecclefeciian.
haud your tongue now, Lucky Lnng,
haud your tongue and jauner ; ^
1 held the gate till you I met,
Syne I began to wander :
I tint ** my whistle and my sang,
1 tint my peace and pleasure ;
But your green graff,tt now Lucky Lang,
Wad airt \\ me to my treasure.
[The supervising duties which devolved on Burns in consequence of
Findlater's illness, brought him in February 1795 to the village of Eccle-
* backward. t rebuff, repulse. J over and :i!.ovc.
goodsire, grandfather. || toast. *j idle talk.
** lost. ft turf, grave. \\ direct
172 Poems and Songs. [i795-
fechan, in Annandale, where he was storm-stayed by a heavy fall of snow.
In a letter which he penned to Thomson from the Inn, he described it as an
"unfortunate, wicked little village," in which he was forced either to get
drunk to forget his miseries, or to hang himself to get rid of them ; and so
he added, " like a prudent man, of two evils I have chosen the least, and
am very drunk at your service."]
O LET ME IN THIS AE NIGHT.
O LASSIE, are ye sleepin yet,
Or are ye waukin, I wad wit ?
For Love has bound me hand an' fit,
And I would fain be in, jo.
Chorus O let me in this ae night,
This ae, ae, ae night ;
O let me in this ae night,
I'll no come back again, jo !
O hearst thou not the wind an' weet ?
Nae star blinks thro' the 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 care and pine, jo.
O let me in, &c.
HER ANSWER.
O tell na me o' wind an' rain,
Upbraid na me wi' cauld disdain,
Gae back the gate ye cam again,
I winna let ye in, jo.
&T. 37-] Poems and Songs. 173
Chorus I tell you now this ae night,
This ae, ae, ae night ;
And ance for a' this ae night,
I winaa let ye in, jo.
The snellest blast, at mirkest hours,
That round the pathless wand'rer pours
Is nocht to what poor she endures,
That's trusted faithless man, jo.
I tell you now, &c.
The sweetest flower that deck'd the mead,
Now trodden like the vilest weed
Let simple maid the lesson read
The weird may be her ain, jo.
I tell you now, &c.
The bird that charm'd his 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.
[In August 1793, Burns had sent to Thomson a dressed-up version of the
old song, "O let me in this ae night," usually found in the collections of
last century ; but it did not give satisfaction. The present version vas sent
from Ecclefechan on February gth, 1795.
In the MS. the poet suggests the following as an improvement on the
closing verse; but neither Thomson nor Currie adopted it :
The bird that charm'd his summer day,
And now the cruel Fowler's prey
Let that to witless woman say,
" The gratefu' heart of Man," jo ! ]
I'LL AY CA' IN BY YON TOWN.
Air " I'll gang nae mair to yon toun."
Chorus I'll ay ca' in by yon town,
And by yon garden -green again ;
I'll ay ca' in by yon town,
And see my bonie Jean again.
174 Poems and Songs. [i795-
There's nane shall ken, there's nane can guess
What brings me back the gate again,
But she, my fairest faithfu' lass,
And stow'nlins we sail meet again.
I'll ay ca' in, &c.
She'll wander by the aiken tree,
When trystin time draws near again ;
And when her lovely form I see,
O haith ! she's doubly dear again.
I'll ay ca' in, &c.
[This beautiful little lyric, supplied off-hand to Johnson, will perhaps be
more admiried than the laboured version which follows. It may have been
inspired either by his own wife, or by Jean Lorimer ; most likely the latter,
for she was the author's favourite model at this period. He thus wrote from
Ecclefechan on yth Feb. 1795, recommending Thomson to adopt the air :
[f you think it worth y of your attention, I have a fair dame in my eye, to
vhom I would consecrate it. Try it with this doggrel, till I give you a
jetter :
(Chorus O wat ye wha's in yon town
Ye ece the e'enin sun upon ;
The dearest maid's in yon town,
That e'enin sun is shinin on.
O sweet to me yon spreading tree,
Where Jeanie wanders aft her lane ;
The hawthorn flower that shades her bower,
O when shall I behold again !
[The expression " yon town," so frequently repeated, does not necessarily
apply to a town, or small city : a clump of cottages surrounding a country
mansion, or even a farm-steading is so denominated.
The melody, in slowish time, flows finely with the words. It may interest
some readers to be told that the air was a marked favourite of King George
IV. Signor Girolamo Stabilini introduced it as a rondo with variations in
a Violin Concerto which was performed between the play and the after-
piece on the occasion of his Majesty attending the Theatre of Edinburgh
in 1822; and it was observed that the King drummed with his fingers to
the music while sitting in his box.]
AT. 37.] Poems and Songs. 175
O WAT YE WHA'S IN YON TOWN.
Tune " I'll gang nae mair to yon tcv.-n "
Chorus. O wat ye wha's in yon town,
Ye see the e'enin sun upon,
The dearest maid's in yon town,
That e'ening sun is shining on
Now haply down yon gay green sha\v,
She wanders by yon spreading tree ;
How blest ye flowers that round her blaw,
Ye catch the glances o' her e'e !
O wat ye wha's, &c.
How blest ye birds that round her sing,
And welcome in the blooming year ;
And doubly welcome be the Spring,
The ieason to my Jeanie dear.
O wat ye wha's, &c.
The sun blinks blythe in yon town,
Among the broomy braes sae green :
But my delight in yon town,
And dearest pleasure, is my Jean.
O wat ye wha's, &c.
Without my Fair, not a' the charms
O' Paradise could yield me joy ;
But give me Jeanie in my arms
And welcome Lapland's dreary sky !
O wat ye wha's, &c.
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.
O wat ye wha's, c.
176 Poems and Songs. [i795
sweet is she in yon town,
The sinkin Sun's gane down upon ;
A fairer than's in yon town,
His setting beam ne'er shone upon.
O wat ye wha's, &c.
If angry Fate is sworn my foe,
And suff'ring I am doom'd to bear ;
1 careless quit aught else below,
But spare, O spare me Jeanie dear.
O wat ye wha's, c.
For while life's dearest blood is warm,
Ae thought frae her shall ne'er depart,
And she, as fairest is her form,
She has the truest, kindest heart.
O wat ye wha's, &c.
[It was no unusual thing with Burns to shift the devotion of verse from
one person to another. What was composed under the influence of Jean
Lorimer's charms, could easily be made applicable to any other personage
he might desire to compliment. Accordingly, by changing the name
"Jeanie," to Lucy, he made these verses serve as a tributary offering to the
wife of Richard A. Oswald, Esq. of Auchencruive, then residing in Dumfries.
That gentleman had been about two years married to a celebrated beauty,
Miss Lucy Johnston, daughter of Wynne Johnston, Esq. of Hilton, and it
occurred to our poet that the family would be pleased with this dedication.
In a letter to Mr John Syme, enclosing a copy of the song, he explains
thus : " I have endeavoured to do justice to what would be Mr Oswald's
feelings, on seeing, in the scene I have drawn, the habitation of his Lucy.
As I am a good deal pleased with the performance, I, in my first fervour,
thought of sending it to Mrs Oswald, but on second thoughts, perhaps what
I offer as the honest incense of genuine respect, might be construed into
some modification or other of that servility which my soul abhors."]
/ET. 37.] Poems and Songs. 177
on 4Jj)r Heron's (Election, 1795.
" SIR, I enclose you some copies of a couple of political ballads, one of
which, I believe, you have never seen. Would to heaven I could make you
master of as many votes in the Stewartry 1 In order to bring my humble
efforts to bear with more effect on the foe, I have privately printed a good
many copies of both ballads, and have sent them among friends all about
the country." Letter to Mr fferon, of Kcrroughtree.
BALLAD FIRST.
WHOM will you send to London town,
To Parliament and a' that ?
Or wha in a' the country round
The best deserves to fa' that ?
For a' that, and a' that,
Thro' Galloway and a' that,
Where is the Laird or belted Knight
That best deserves to fa' that ?
Wha sees Kerroughtree's open yett,
(And wha is't never saw that ?)
Wha ever wi' Kerroughtree met,
And has a doubt of a' that ?
For a' that, and a' that,
Here's Heron yet for a' that 1
The independent patriot,
The honest man, and a' thnt.
Tho' wit and worth, in either sex,
Saint Mary's Isle can shaw that,
Wi 3 Dukes and Lords let Selkirk mix.
And weel does Selkirk fa' that.
For a' that, and a' that,
Here's Heron yet for a' that !
Ill M
178 Poems and Sengs. [ 1 795
The independent commoner
Shall be the man for a' that.
But why should we to Nobles joule, *
And is't against the law, that ?
For why, a Lord may be a gowk, f
Wi' ribband, star and a' that,
For a' that, and a' that,
Here's Heron yet for a' that !
A Lord may be a lousy loun,
Wi' ribband, star and a' that.
A beardless boy comes o'er the hills,
Wi' uncle's purse and a' that ;
But we'll hae ane frae mang oursels,
A man we ken, and a' that.
For a' that, and a' that,
Here's Heron yet for a' that !
For we're not to be bought and sold,
Like naigs, J and nowte, and a' that.
Then let us drink The Stewartry,
Kerroughtree's laird, and a' that,
Our representative to be,
For weel he's worthy a' that.
P'or a' that, and a' that,
Here's Heron yet for a' that !
A House of Commons such as he,
They wad be blest that saw that.
[The death of General Stewart, M.P. for the Stewartry of Kirkcudbright,
in January 1795, created a vacancy in the representation, and in the course
of February and March a contest for the election caused much local excite-
ment, in which Burns mixed with his customary zeal.]
* crouch. t fool. J horses. cauls.
JET. 37.] Poems and Songs. 179
BALLAD SECOND ELECTION DAY.
Tune" Fy, let us a' to the Bridal. 11
Fv, let us a' to Kirkcudbright,
For there will be bickerin' there ;
For Murray's light horse are to muster,
And O how the heroes will swear !
And there will be Murray, Commander/
And Gordon, 2 the battle to win ;
Like brothers they'll stand by each other,
Sae knit in alliance and kin.
And there will be black-nebbit Johnie*
The tongue o' the trump to them a' ;
An he get na Hell for his haddin,
The Deil gets na justice ava
And there will be Kempletorfs birkie, 4
A boy no sae black at the bane ;
But as to his fine Nabob fortune,
We'll e'en let the subject alane.
And there will be Wigton's new Sheriff ; -
Dame Justice fu' brawly has sped,
She's gotten the heart of a Bushby,
But, Lord ! what's become o' the head ?
And there will be Cardoness, Esquire, 3
iiae mighty in CardonesJ eyes ;
1 Mr Murray of Broughton. This gentleman had left his wife and
i-.Joped with a lady of rank.
1 Thos. Gordon of Balmaghie, the Tory candidate, a nephew of Murray.
3 John Bushby, " honest man."
4 William Bushby of Kempleton, a brother of John, who lost a fortune
by Douglas Heron Co.'s Bank, and retrieved it by going to the East
Indies, and trading there.
6 Mr Bushby Maitland, sou of John, and newly appointed sheriff of
Wigtonshire. He figures in the epistle of Esopus to Marin.
David Maxwell of Cardonsss.
180 Poems and Songs. [i795-
A wight that will weather damnation,
The Devil the prey will despise.
And there will be Douglasses doughty, 1
New christening towns far and near ;
Abjuring their democrat doings,
By kissin' the o' a Peer :
And there will be folk frae Saint Mary's 2
A house o' great merit and note ;
The deil ane but honors them highly
The deil ane will gie them his vote !
And there will be Kenmure sae gen'rous, 3
Whose honor is proof to the storm,
To save them from stark reprobation,
He lent them his name in the Firm,
And there will be lads o' the gospel,
Muirhead wha's as gude as he's true; *
And^there will be Buittle's Apostle?
Wha's mair o' the black than the blue.
And there will be Logan M'Dowall*
Sculdudd'ry an' he will be there,
And also the Wild Scot <t Galloway p ,
Sogering, gunpowder Blair. 1
But we winna mention Redcastle, 8
The body, e'en let him escape !
He'd venture the gallows for siller,
An 'twere na the cost o' the rape.
1 The Messrs Douglas, brothers, of Carlinwark and Orchardton. They
had just obtained a royal warrant to alter the name of Carlinwark to
" Castle Douglas."
2 The Earl of Selkirk's family, with whom the poet was in good terms ;
but in this instance they sided with the Tory interest.
Mr Gordon of Kenmure, with whom Burns was also in good terms.
Rev. Mr Muirhead, of Urr, a proud man, and a high Tory.
Rev. George Maxwell of Buittle, another high Tory.
Colonel M'Dowall of Logan : for Sculduddery, see Glossary.
Mr Blair of Dunskey. 8 Walter Sloan Lawrie, of Redcastle
JET. 37.] Poems and Songs. 181
But where is the Doggerbank hero, 1
That made " Hogan Mogan " to skulk?
Poor Keith's gane to h-11 to be fuel,
The auld rotten wreck of a Hulk.
And where is our King's Lord Lieutenant,
Sae fam'd for his gratefif return ?
The birkie is gettin' his Questions
To say in Saint Stephen's the morn.
But mark ye ! there's trusty Kerroughtrce?
Whose honor was ever his law ;
If the Virtues were pack'd in a parcel,
His worth might be sample for a' ;
And strang an' respectfu's his backing,
The maist o' the lairds wi' him stand ;
Nae gipsy-like nominal barons, 3
Wha's property's paper not land.
And there, frae the Niddisdale borders,
The Maxwells will gather in droves,
Teugh Jockief staunch Geordie? an' Wellwood*
That griens for the fishes and loaves ;
And there will be Heron^ the Major, 7
Wha'll ne'er be forgot in the Greys;
Our flatt'ry we'll keep for some other,
HIM, only it's justice to praise.
1 These four lines, published now for the first time, are from a fragment
of the poet's MS. of this ballad, in the possession of the publisher of these
volumes. A battle between the English and the Dutch was fought at the
Doggerbank on August eth, 1781.
Patrick Heron, of Kerroughtree, the Whig candidate.
This refers to the fictitious electors, so common before the Reform Act
of 1832, popularly called " paper," or " faggot voters."
John Maxwell, Esq. of Terraughty.
George Maxwell of Carruchan.
Mr Wellwood Maxwell.
Major Heron, brother of the Whig candidate.
1 82 Poems and Songs. [i795-
And there will be maiden Kilkerran}-
And also Barskimming's gude Knight, 2
And there will be roarin Birtwhistle?
Yet luckily roars i' the right.
And there'll be Stamp Office Johnief
(Tak tent how ye purchase a dram !)
And there will be gay Cassencarry,
And there'll be gleg Colonel Tarn?
And there'll be wealthy young Richard?
Dame Fortune should hing by the neck,
For prodigal, thriftless bestowing
His merit had won him respect.
And there will be rich brother Nabobs?
(Tho* Nabobs, yet men not the worst,)
And there will be Colliestoris whiskers, 8
And Quintin 9 a lad o' the first.
Then hey ! the chaste Interest o' Broughton,
And hey ! for the blessin's 'twill bring ;
It may send Balmaghie to the Commons,
In Sodom 'twould make him a king ;
And hey ! for the sanctified Murray,
Our land wha wi' chapels has stor'd ;
He founder'd his horse among harlots,
But gied the auld naig to the Lord.
[The various copies of this ballad differ widely in arrangement of the
verses.
After printing this ballad in his last edition, Chambers adds : -" Though
Burns, we may well believe, had no view to his own interest in writing
1 Sir Adam Fergusson of Kilkerran.
2 Sir William Miller of Barskimming, afterwards Lord Glenlee.
" Mr Alex. Birtwhistle of Kirkcudbright.
* John Syme, Esq., Distributor of Stamps for Dumfries.
5 Colonel Goldie, of Goldielea.
* Richard Oswald, Esq. of Auchincrui.e. ' Messrs Hannay.
- Mr Copeland of Collieston.
' Mr Quintin M'AJam, of Craigmgillan.
^ET. 37-1 Poems and Songs. 183
these diatribes, it appears there did result from them some little glimpse of
a hope of promotion. Mr Heron, hearing of them, and having perused on,
wrote to Mr Syme, with some references to the poet, as if it were not
impossible that he might be able to advance his interests."]
BALLAD THIRD.
JO?JN BUSHBY'S LAMENTATION.
Turn" Babes in the Wood."
'TWAS in the seventeen hunder year
O' grace, and ninety-five,
That year I was the wae'est man
Of ony man alive.
In March the three-an'-tvventieth morn,
The sun raise clear an' bright ;
But oh ! I was a waefu' man,
Ere to-fa' o' the night.
Yerl Galloway lang did rule this land,
Wi' equal right and fame,
And thereto was his kinsmen join'd,
The Murray's noble name.
Yerl Galloway's man o' men was I,
And chief o' Broughton's host ;
So twa blind beggars, on a string,
The faithfu' tyke will trust.
But now Yerl Galloway's sceptre's broke,
And Broughton's wi' the slain,
And I my ancient craft may try,
Sin' honesty is gane.
: Twas by the banks o' bonie Dee,
Beside Kirkcudbright's towers,
1 84 Poems and Songs. [i795
The Stewart and the Murray there,
Did muster a' their powers.
Then Murray on the auld grey yaud,
Wi' winged spurs did ride,
That auld grey yaud a' Nidsdale rade,
He staw upon Nidside. 1
An there had na been the Yerl himsel,
O there had been nae play ;
But Garlics was to London gane,
And say the kye might stray.
And there was Balmaghie, I ween,
In front rank he wad shine ;
But Balmaghie had better been
Drinkin' Madeira wine.
And frae Glenkens cam to our aid
A chief o' doughty deed ;
In case that worth should wanted be,
O' Kenmure we had need.
And by our banners march'd Muirhead,
And Buittle was na slack ;
Whase haly priesthood nane could stain,
For wha could dye the black ?
And there was grave squire Cardoness,
Look'd on till a' was done ;
Sae in the tower o' Cardoness
A howlet sits at noon.
1 An allusion to the lady with whom Murray eloped a member 01" the
house of Johnston, whose well-known crest is a winged spur.
37-] Poems and Songs. 185
And there led I the Bushby clan,
My gamesome billie, Will,
And my son Maitland, wise as brave,
My footsteps follow'd still.
The Douglas and the Heron's name,
We set nought to their score ;
The Douglas and the Heron's name,
Had felt our weight before.
But Douglasses o' weight had we,
The pair o' lusty lairds,
For building cot-houses sae fam'd,
And christenin' kail-yards.
And then Redcastle drew his sword,
That ne'er was stain'd wi' gore,
Save on a wand'rer lame and blind,
To drive him frae his door.
And last cam creepin Collieston,
Was mair in fear than wrath ;
Ae knave was constant in his mind--
To keep that knave frae scaith.
[Our readers are likely to agree with us in thinking that Burns appears
to no great advantage in his electioneering verses ; at same time, in an
edition professing to give all his poetical works, it might be considered un-
warrantable to omit these, however obscure their allusions, and purely local
their interest. Mr Lockhart remarks that "after the Excise inquiry, Burns
took care, no doubt, to avoid similar scrapes ; but he had no reluctance to
meddle largely and zealously in the squabbles of county politics and con-
tested elections ; and thus by merely espousing the cause of the Whig
candidates, he kept up very effectually the spleen which the Tories had
originally conceived against him on tolerably legitimate grounds."]
1 86 Poems and Songs. L I 795-
INSCRIPTION FOR AN ALTAR OF
INDEPENDENCE,
AT KERROUGHTREE, THE SEAT OF MR HERON.
THOU of an independent mind,
With soul resolv'd, with soul resign'd ;
Prepaid 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 worship here.
[On aist June of 1794 the poet thus wrote to Mr David M'Culloch of
Ardwell : " My dear sir, mj' long-projected journey through your country
is at last fixed ; and on Wednesday next, if you have nothing of importance
to do, take a saunter down to Gateshouse about two or three o'clock, and I
shall be happy to take a draught of M'Kune's best with you. Collecto*
Syme will be at Glen's about that time, and will meet us at dish-of-tea
hour. Syme goes also to Kerroughtree, and let me remind you of your kind
promise to accompany me there. I will need all my friends I can muster,
for I am indeed ill at ease whenever I approach your honourables and right
honourables."
Chambers notices that the above letter is " valuable as showing that at
least a Whig country gentleman deemed Burns presentable at this time be-
fore good society." We conceive that as the poet never visited Kerrough-
tree after the summer of 1794, the inscription in the text is very likely to
have been a composition of that year.]
THE CARDIN O'T, THE SPINNIN O'T.
I CO FT a stane o' haslock woo,*
To mak a wab t to Johnie, o't ;
For Johnie is my only jo,
I loe him best of onie yet.
* soft wool from the throat of the sheep. t w*b.
/ET. 37-1 Poems and Songs. 187
Chorus The cardin o't, the spinnin o't,
The warpin o't, the winnin o't ;
When ilka ell cost me a groat,
The tailor staw the lynin o't.
For tho' his locks be lyart * grey,
And tho' his brow be beld t aboon ;
Yet I hae seen him on a day,
The pride of a' the parishen. \
The cardin o't, &c.
[The original of this tender little snatch of song is in the British Museum
The word " wab" in the second line has been hitherto misprinted " wat."]
THE COOPER O' CUDDY.
Tune" Bab at the bowster."
Chorus WE'LL hide the Cooper behint the door,
Behint the door, behint the door,
We'll hide the Cooper behint the door,
And cover him under a mawn, O.
The Cooper o' Cuddy came here awa.,
He ca'd the girrs || out o'er us a' ;
An' our gudewife has gotten a ca',
That's anger'd the silly gudeman O.
We'll hide the Cooper, &c.
He sought them out, he sought them i;;,
Wi' deil hae her ! an' deil hae him !
But the body he was sae doited IF and blin,
He rrist na where he was gaun O.
We'll hide the Cooper, &c.
They cooper'd at e'en, they cooper'd at morn,
Till our gudeman has gotten the scorn ;
* mixed black and giey. t bald. \ plural of parish.
basket without lid or handle. [| hor.j>.-- V stupid.
i8S Poems and Songs. [i795-
On ilka brow she's planted a horn,
And swears that there they sail stan' O
We'll hide the Cooper, &c.
[Nothing more need be said regarding this song, than that it is un-
doubtedly by Burns, and his MS. of it is in the British Museum.]
THE LASS THAT MADE THE BED TO ME.
WHEN Januar 5 wind was blawin cauld,
As to the north I took my way,
The mirksome night did me enfauld,
I knew na whare to lodge till day :
By my gude luck a maid I met,
Just in the middle o' my care,
And kindly she did me invite
To walk into a chamber fair.
1 bow'd fu' low unto this maid,
And thank'd her for her courtesie ;
I bow'd fu' low unto this maid,
An' bade her make a bed to me ;
She made the bed baith large and wide,
Wi' twa white hands she spread it doun ;
She put the cup to her rosy lips,
And drank* Young man, now sleep ye soun'.'
Chorus The bonie lass made the bed to me,
The braw lass made the bed to me,
I'll ne'er forget till the day I die,
The lass that made the bed to me.
She snatch'd the candle in her hand,
And frae my chamber went wi' speed ;
But I call'd her quickly back again,
To lay some mair below my head :
JET. 35.] Poems and Songs. 189
A cod she laid below my head,
And served me with due respect,
And, to salute her wi' a kiss,
I put my arms about her neck.
The bonie lass, &c.
" Haud aff your hands, young man!" she said,
" And dinna sae uncivil be ;
Gif ye hae ony luve for me,
wrang na my virginitie."
Her hair was like the links o' gowd,
Her teeth were like the ivorie,
Her cheeks like lilies dipt in wine,
The lass that made the bed to me :
The bonie lass, &c.
Her bosom was the driven snaw,
Twa drifted heaps sae fair to see ;
Her limbs the polish'd marble stane,
The lass that made the bed to me.
I kiss'd her o'er and o'er again,
And ay she wist na what to say :
I laid her 'tween me and the wa' ;
The lassie thocht na lang till day.
The bonie lass, &c.
Upon the morrow when we raise,
1 thank'd her for her courtesie ;
But ay she blush'd and ay she sigh'd,
And said, ' Alas, ye've ruin'd me.'
I clasp'd her waist, and kiss'd her syne,
While the tear stood twinkling in her e'e ;
1 said, my lassie, dinna cry,
For ye ay shall make the bed to me.
The bonie lass, &c.
She took her mither's holland sheets,
An made them a' in sarks to me ;
190 Poems and Songs. [ I 795-
Blythe and merry may she be,
The lass that made the bed to me.
Chorus The bonie lass made the bed to me,
The braw lass made the bed to me ;
I'll ne'er forget till the day I die,
The lass that made the bed to rne.
[The chorus and concluding four lines of the above ballad are pointed out
by Burns in his note thereon, as forming part of the ancient song. He
seems to refer to a common-place production, preserved by Tom D'Urfey,
called "The Cumberland Lass," in which we thus read :
" She took her mother's winding sheet,
And cut it into sarks for me ;
Blythe and merry may she be,
The lass that made the bed to ir.c. '
Burns tells us that the original ballad "was composed on an amour of
Charles II., when skulking in the North about Aberdeen, in the time of the
Usurpation. He formed une petite affaire with a daughter of the House of
Port-Letham, who was " " the lass that made the bed " to him.]
HAD I THE WYTE? SHE BADE ME,
HAD I the wyte,* had I the wyte,
Had I the wyte ? she bade me,
She vvatch'd me by the hie-gate side,
And up the loan she shaw'd me.
And when I wadna venture in,
A coward loon she ca'd me :
Had Kirk an' State been in the gate,
Fd lighted when she bade me.
Sae craftilie she took me ben,
And bade me mak nae clatter ;
4 For our ramgunshoch, t glum J gudeman
Is o'er ayont the water.'
blame. f ram-stam. J suiky.
/ET. 37.] Poems and Songs. 191
Whae'er shall say I wanted grace,
When I did kiss and dawte * her,
Let him be planted in my place,
Syne say, I was the fautor. +
Could I for shame, could I for shame,
Could I for shame refus'd her ;
And wadna manhood been to blame,
Had I unkindly used her !
He claw'd J her \vi' the ripplin-kame,
And blae and bluidy bruis'd her ;
When sic a husband was frae hame,
What wife but wad excus'd her !
I dighted || aye her e'en sae blue,
An' bann'd IF the cruel rand)
And weel I wat, her willin mou
\Vas sweet as sugar-candie.
At gloamin-shot, tt it was I wot,
I lighted on the Monday ;
But I cam thro' the Tyseday's \\ dew,
To wanton Willie's brandy.
[Bordering on indelicacy as this performance does, it is purity itself beside
the old model that suggested it.]
DOES HAUGHTY GAUL INVASION THREAT?
Tune " Push about the Jorum."
DOES haughty Gaul invasion threat ?
Then let the louns beware, Sir ;
There's WOODEN WALLS upon our seas,
And VOLUNTEERS on shore, Sir :
* pet. t defaulter. .lulled.
wool-dresser's comb. H wiped. ^ cursed.
'* blusterer. ft dusk. ft Tuesdays.
1 92 Poems and Songs. [i795-
The Nith shall run to Corsinconj-
And Criffer* 1 sink in Solway,
Ere we permit a Foreign Foe
On British ground to rally !
We'll ne'er permit a Foreign Foe
On British ground to rally !
O let us not, like snarling curs,
In wrangling be divided,
Till, slap ! come in an unco loun t
And wi j a rung decide it !
Be Britain still to Britain true,
Amang ourselves united ;
For never but by British hands
Maun British vurangs be righted !
No ! never but by British hands
Shall British wrangs be righted !
The Kettle o' the Kirk and State,
Perhaps a clout 3 may fail in't ;
But deil a foreign tinkler loun
Shall ever ca' a nail in't.
Our FATHER'S BLUDE the Kettle bought,
And wha wad dare to spoil it ;
By Heav'ns ! the sacrilegious dog
Shall fuel be to boil it !
By Heav'ns ! the sacrilegious dog
Shall fuel be to boil it !
The wretch that would a tyrant own,
And the wretch, his true-born brother,
Who would set the Mob aboon the Throne,
May they be damn'd together !
1 Corsincon, a high hill at the source of the river Nith.
* Criffel, a mountain at the mouth of the same river.
* i<e. t It may require repair, as a tinkler " clouts a broken cauldron."
;ET. 37.] Poems anct Songs. 193
Who will not sing ' God save the King,'
Shall hang as high's the steeple ;
But while we sing ' God save the King,'
We'll ne'er forget THE PEOPLE !
But while we sing ' God save the King,'
We'll ne'er forget THE PEOPLE !
[In the early part of 1795, two companies of volunteers were raised by
Dumfries, as its quota for defending the fatherland, while the bulk of the
regular army was engaged abroad. Many of the liberal residents who had
incurred the suspicion of the government were fain to enrol themselves in
these corps, in order to shew they were well affected towards their country.
Syme, Maxwell, and others of the poet's friends, became volunteers. The
ballad appeared in the Dumfries Journal of 5th May, as well as in the May
number of the Scots Magazine; and printed copies of it, in form of a sheet-
song, set to music by Mr Stephen Clarke, were soon distributed to members
of the corps to which the poet belonged.]
ADDRESS TO THE WOODLARK.
Tune -" Loch Erroch Side."
O STAY, sweet warbling woodlark, stay.
Nor quit for me the trembling spray,
A hapless lover courts thy lay,
Thy soothing, fond complaining.
Again, again that tender part,
That I may catch thy melting art ;
For surely that wad touch her heart
Wha kills me wi' disdaining.
Say, was thy little mate unkind,
And heard thee as the careless wind ?
Oh, nocht but love and sorrow join'd,
Sic notes o' woe could wauken !
Thou tells o' never-ending care ;
O' speechless grief, and dark despair :
For pity's sake, sweet bird, nae mair !
Or my poor heart is broken.
III. N
194 Poems and Songs. [ J 79S-
[This fine lyric appears to have been forwarded to Thomson iu May, 1795,
a month during which he seems to have been more than usually prolific in
song. There is in possession of the publisher of these volumes a pencil
manuscript in the poet's hand, containing what are evidently his first
thoughts while conceiving and executing this pathetic effusion. It reads as
follows :
SONG. COMPOSED ON HEARING A BIRD SING WHILE
MUSING ON CHLORIS.
Sing on, sweet songster o' the brier,
Nae stealthy traitor-foot is near ;
O soothe a hapless Lover's ear,
And dear as life I'll prize thee.
Again, again that tender part,
That I may learn thy melting art,
For surely that would touch the heart,
O' her that still denies me.
Oh was thy mistress, too, unkind,
And heard thee as the careless wind ?
For nocht but Love and Sorrow join'cJ
Sic notes of woe could wauken.
The dosing four lines correspond with the text]
SONG. ON CHLORIS BEING ILL.
Tune "Ay wauken O."
Chorus LONG, long the night,
Heavy comes the morrow
While my soul's delight
Is on her bed of sorrow.
Can I cease to care ?
Can I cease to languish,
While my darling Fair
Is on the couch of anguish ?
Long, long, &c.
Ev'ry hope is fled,
Ev'ry fear is terror ;
^ T - 37-3 Poems and Songs. 195
Slumber ev'n I dread,
Ev'ry dream is horror.
Long, long, &c.
Hear me, Powers Divine !
Oh, in pity, hear me !
Take aught else of mine,
But my Chloris spare me !
Long, long, &c.
[This effusion was sent to Thomson in May 1795. Onward to the close
of August of that year (but no farther), Jean Lorimer (or "Chloris")
continued to be goddess of the poet's lyrical adoration. In the early part
of August, Mr Robert Cleghorn, Farmer, Saughton Mills, near Edinburgh,
accompanied by two other Midlothian farmers, named respectively, John
Allan, and Robert Wight, paid Burns a visit at Dumfries, and were intro-
duced to Chloris, as the following extract from a hitherto inedited letter of
Burns, addressed to the father of that young woman, will show : " Dum-
fries, Tuesday morning. My dear Sir, I called for you yesternight both
at your own house, and at your favourite lady's Mrs Hislop of the Globe,
but could not find you. I want you to dine with me to-day. I have two
honest Midlothian Farmers with me, who have travelled three-score miles
to renew old friendship with the poet, and I promise you a pleasant party,
a plateful of Hotch-Potch, and a bottle of good, sound port. Mrs Burns
desired me yesternight to beg the favour of Jeany to come and partake with
her, and she was so obliging as to promise that she would. If you can come,
I shall take it very kind. Yours, ROBERT BURNS. (Dinner at three.) To
Mr William Lorimer, senior, Farmer."
The above proves the intimacy that existed between the poet's family and
that of the Lorimers, and indicates, moreover, that the tenderness evinced
by Burns for Chloris was of no clandestine kind.]
HOW CRUEL ARE THE PARENTS.
Altered from an old English song,
Tune "John Anderson, my jo."
How cruel are the parents
Who riches only prize,
And to the wealthy booby
Poor Woman sacrifice !
igb Poems and Songs. [i795-
Meanwhile, the hapless Daughter
Has but a choice of strife ;
To shun a tyrant Father's hate
Become a wretched Wife.
The ravening hawk pursuing,
The trembling dove thus flies,
To shun impelling ruin,
Awhile her pinions tries ;
Till, of escape despairing,
No shelter or retreat,
She trusts the ruthless Falconer,
And drops beneath his feet.
[After a pretty extensive search for the original of this and a few other old
English songs which the poet thus paraphrased or adapted for Thomson's
publication, we have been unable to find them. The post-mark shews that
this and the song following were forwarded to Thomson on gth May 1795-]
YONDER POMP OF COSTLY FASHION.
Air" Deil tak the wars."
MARK yonder pomp of costly fashion
Round the wealthy, titled bride :
But when compar'd with real passion,
Poor is all that princely pride.
Mark yonder, &c. {four lines repeated).
What are the showy treasures,
What are the noisy pleasures ?
The gay, gaudy glare of vanity and art :
The polish'd jewel's blaze
May draw the wond'ring gaze ;
And courtly grandeur bright
The fancy may delight,
But never, never can come near the heart.
^T. 37-] Poems and Songs. 197
But did you see my dearest Chloris,
In simplicity's array ;
Lovely as yonder sweet opening flower is,
Shrinking from the gaze of day,
But did you see, &c.
O then, the heart alarming,
And all resistless charming,
In Love's delightful fetters she chains the willing soul !
Ambition would disown
The world's imperial crown,
Ev'n Avarice would deny,
His worshipp'd deity,
And feel thro' every vein Love's raptures roll.
[" Well 1 this is not amiss," said the poet in sending the foregoing. " You
see how I answer your orders. Your tailor could not be more punctual. I
am just now in a high fit of poetising, provided that the strait-jacket of
criticism don't cure me. If you can, in a post or two, administer a little of
the intoxicating potion of your applause, it will raise your humble servant's
frenzy to any height you want. I am at this moment ' holding high con-
verse 'with the Muses, and have not a word to throw away on such a
Prosaic dog as you are. R. B"~\
'TWAS NA HER BON IE BLUE E'E.
Tune " Laddie, lie near me."
'TWAS na her bonie blue e'e was my ruin,
Fair tho' she be', that was ne'er my undoin' ;
'Twas the dear smile when nae body did mind us,
'Twas the bewitching, sweet, stoun glance o' kindness.
'Twas the bewitching, sweet, stoun glance o' kindness.
Sair do I fear that to hope is denied me,
Sair do I fear that despair maun abide me,
But tho' fell fortune should fate us to s^ver,
Queen shall she be in my bosom for ever :
Queen shall she be in my bosom for ever.
198 Poems and Songs. [ 1 795>
Chloris, I'm thine wi' a passion sincerest,
And thou hast plighted me love o' trie dearest !
And thou'rt the angel that never can alter,
Sooner the sun in his motion would falter :
Sooner the sun in his motion would falter.
THEIR GROVES O' SWEET MYRTLE.
Tune "Humours of Glen."
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, among the wild flowers,
A-list'ning the linnet, aft wanders my Jean.
Tho' rich is the breeze in their gay, sunny vallies,
And cauld Caledonia's blast on the wave ;
Their sweet-scented woodlands that skirt the proud palace,
What are they ? the haunt of the Tyrant and Slave.
The Slave's spicy forests, and gold-bubbling fountains,
The brave Caledonian views wi' disdain ;
He wanders as free as the winds of his mountains,
Save Love's willing fetters the chains o' his Jean.
FORLORN, MY LOVE, NO COMFORT NEAR.
Air " Let me in this ae night."
FORLORN, my Love, no comfort near,
Far, far from thee, I wander here ;
Far, far from thee, the fate severe,
At which I most repine, Love.
&T. 37.] Poems and Son%& 199
Chorus O wert thou, Love, but near me 1
But near, near, near me,
How kindly thou would'st cheer me,
And mingle sighs with mine, Love.
Around me scowls a wintry sky,
Blasting each bud of hope and joy ;
And shelter, shade, nor home have I ;
Save in these arms of thine, Love.
O wert thou, &c.
Cold, alter'd friendship's cruel part,
To poison Fortune's ruthless dart
Let me not break thy faithful heart,
And say that fate is mine, Love.
O wert thou, &c.
But, dreary tho' the moments fleet,
O let me think we yet shall meet ;
That only ray of solace sweet,
Can on thy Chloris shine, Love !
O wert thou, &c.
[This pathetic song, put into the lips of Chloris, was, like the six pre-
ceding ones, sent to Thomson in May 1795. In transmitting it the poet
asked, " How do you like the foregoing? I have written it within this
hour, so much for the speed of my Pegasus ; but what say you to his
bottom?" It would appear that Thomson urged objections of some kind to
verse third ; for in his letter of August 3rd, 1795, Burns wrote, " Your
objections are just as to that verse of my song. I hope the following
alteration will please you :
Cold, alter'd friends, with cruel art,
Poisoning fell Misfortune's dart ;
Let me not break thy faithful heart,
And say that fate is mine, Love."]
200 Poems and Songs, [ ! 795
FRAGMENT. WHY, WHY TELL THE LOVER.
Tune " Caledonian Hunt's delight."
WHY, why tell the lover
Bliss he never must enjoy ?
Why, why undeceive him,
And give all his hopes the lie ?
O why, while fancy, raptur'd, slumbers,
" Chloris, Chloris," all the theme,
Why, why would'st thou, cruel-
Wake thy lover from his dream,
THE BRAW WOOER.
Tune" The Lothian Lassie."
LAST May, a braw wooer cam doun the lang glen,
And sair wi 3 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 spake o' the darts in my bonie black e'en,
And vow'd for my love he was diein,
I said, he might die when he liket for Jean
The Lord forgie me for liein, for liein ;
The Lord forgie me for liein !
A weel-stocket mailen, himsel for the laird,
And marriage aff-hand, were his proffers ;
I never loot on that I kenn'd it, or car'd ;
But thought I might hae waur offers, waur offers ;
But thought I might hae waur offers.
JET. 37.] Poems and Songs. 201
But what wad ye think ? in a fortnight or less -
The deil tak his taste to gae near her !
He up the. Gate-slack to my black cousin, Bess
Guess ye how, the jad ! I could bear her, could bear
her;
Guess ye how, the jad ! I could bear her.
But a' the niest week, as I petted wi' card,
I gaed to the tryst o' Dalgarnock ;
And wha but my fine fickle wooer was there,
I glowr'd as I'd seen a warlock, a warlock,
I glowr'd as I'd seen a warlock.
But owre my left shouther I gae him a blink,
Lest neibours might say I was saucy ;
My wooer he capered 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' couthy and sweet,
Gin she had recover'd her hearin,
And how her new shoon fit her auld schachl't feet,
But heavens ! how he fell a swear in, a swearin,
But heavens ! how he fell a swearin.
He begged, 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 think I maun wed him to-morrow, to-morrow ;
I think I maun wed him to-morrow.
[This is a "pearl of great price" among the songs of Burns, and has been
a popular favourite ever since it made its appearance. The melody selected
for it is in every way calculated to give effect to the humour and naivete of
the words. Thomson objected to the localities " CatesJack " and "Dalgar-
nock," and the poet explained that Gate-slack is a romantic pass among the
2O2 Poems and Songs. [i795-
Lowther Hills on the confines of Dumfriesshire, and that Dalgarnock is an
equally romantic spot near the Nith, where still are to be seen a ruined
church and burial-ground. He at length yielded to an alteration of ths
former, thus :
'* He up the lang loan to my black cousin, Bess. '
Dr Currie very properly observed on this point that " It is always a pity to
throw out anything that gives locality to our poet's verses."]
THIS IS NO MY AIN LASSIE.
Tune "This is no my house."
Chorus THIS is no my ain lassie,
Fair tho' the lassie be ;
Weel ken I my ain lassie,
Kind love is in her e'e.
I see a form, I see a face,
Ye weel may wi' the fairest place ;
It wants, to me, the witching grace,
The kind love that's in her e'e.
This is no my ain, &c.
She's bonie, blooming, straight, and tall,
And lang has had my heart in thrall ;
And ay it charms my very saul,
The kind love that's in her e'e.
This is no my ain, &c.
A thief sae pawkie is my Jean,
To steal a blink, by a' unseen ;
But gleg as light are lover's een,
When kind love is in the e'e.
This is no my ain, &c.
mi. 37.] Poems and Songs. 203
It may escape the courtly sparks,
It may escape the learned clerks ;
But well the watching lover marks
The kind love that's in her eye.
This is no my ain, &c.
[This fine song was transmitted to Thomson, along with the two that
immediately follow, on 3rd August, 1795; after which date, there was
silence in the heaven of song for half a year. With exception of a note
addressed to the father of " Chloris " early in August, and a short letter to
Cleghorn, on the 2ist of that month, there does not exist a scrap of the
poet's writing in prose or verse that we can pronounce to have been penned
by him, between 3rd August, and the close of December, 1795.]
O BONIE WAS YON ROSY BRIER.
O BONIE was yon rosy brier,
That blooms sae far frae haunt o' man ;
And bonie she, and ah, how dear !
It shaded frae the e'enin sun.
Yon rosebuds in the morning dew,
How pure, amang the leaves sae green ;
But purer was the lover's vow
They witness'd in their shade yestreen.
All in its rude and prickly bower,
That crimson rose, how sweet and fair ;
But love is far a sweeter flower,
Amid life's thorny path o' care.
The pathless wild, and wimpling burn,
Wi' Chloris in my arms, be mine ;
And I the warld nor wish nor scorn,
Its joys and griefs alike resign.
[This is apparently the last song of Burns which was inspired by the
charms of Jean Lorimer, and he never excelled it in purity of sentiment and
lyric beauty. The bard seems to have intended these as Scottish verses to
the air, " I wish my love was in a mire."]
204 P perns and Songs. fi795
SCOTTISH SONG INSCRIBED TO
ALEXANDER CUNNINGHAM.
Now spring has clad the grove in green,
And strew'd the lea wi' flowers ;
The furrow'd, waving corn is seen
Rejoice in fostering showers.
While ilka thing in nature join
Their sorrows to forego,
O why thus all alone are mine
The weary steps o' woe !
The trout in yonder wimplin burn
That glides, a silver dart,
And, safe beneath the shady thorn,
Defies the angler's art
My life was ance that careless stream,
That wanton trout was I ;
But Love, wi' unrelenting beam,
Has scorch'd my fountains dry.
That little floweret's peaceful lot,
In yonder cliff that grows,
Which, save the linnet's flight, I wot,
Nae ruder visit knows,
Was mine, till Love has o'er me past.
And blighted a' my bloom ;
And now, beneath the withering blast,
My youth and joy consume.
The waken'd laverock warbling springs,
And climbs the early sky,
Winnowing blythe his dewy wings
In morning's rosy eye ;
JET. 37.7 Poems and Songs. 205
As little reck'd I sorrow's power,
Until the flowery snare
0' witching Love, in luckless hour,
Made me the thrall o' care.
O had my fate been Greenland snows,
Or Afric's burning zone,
Wi' man and nature leagu'd my foes,
So Peggy ne'er I'd known !
The wretch whose doom is ' hope nae mair '
What tongue his woes can tell ;
Within whase bosom, save Despair,
Nae kinder spirits dwell.
[These five double stanzas, together with the preceding song and some
verses inscribed to Chloris, form the contents of one sheet transcribed by
the poet for his "very much valued friend Mr Cunningham" on 3rd
August 1795, and signed " COILA." It is addressed at the end thus :
" To Mr Cunningham Une bagatelle de F amitie."
On zoth January thereafter, the poet, as if just wakened out of a trance,
thus addressed Mrs Riddell "The Muses have not quite forsaken me.
The following detached stanzas I intend to interweave in some disastrous
tale of a Shepherd, ' Despairing beside a clear stream.' IS amour, toujours
[amour" He then transcribes the three central verses of the above songt
with variation.]
O THAT'S THE LASSIE O' MY HEART.
Tune " Morag."
O WAT ye wha that lo'es me,
And has my heart a keeping ?
O sweet is she that lo'es me,
As dews o' summer weeping,
In tears the rosebuds steeping !
Chorus O that's the lassie o' my heart,
My lassie ever dearer ;
O she's the queen o' womankind,
And ne'er a ane to peer her.
206 Poems and Songs. [1795
If thou shalt meet a lassie,
In grace and beauty charming,
That e'en thy chosen lassie,
Erewhile thy breast sae warming,
Had ne'er sic power alarming ;
O that's the lassie, c.
If thou hadst heard her talking,
(And thy attention's plighted),
That ilka body talking,
But her, by thee is slighted,
And thou art all-delighted ;
O that's the lassie, &c.
If thou hast met this Fair One,
When frae her thou hast parted,
If every other Fair One
But her, thou hast deserted,
And thou art broken-hearted ;
O that's the lassie o' my heart,
My lassie ever dearer ;
O that's the queen o' womankind,
And ne'er a ane to peer her.
[Thomson, in October 1794, had asked Burns about the authorship of
several songs in the second volume of The Museum, and on the igth of that
month, he thus replied : " The Young Highland Rover (Morag) is also
mine ; but it is not worthy of the fine air." The poet appears to have kept
in his view the desirability of making an effort to compose a superior song
to this melody ; and accordingly there is evidence that about the beginning
of August 1795, he had given birth to the above admirable effusion. About
that time Mr Robert Cleghorn, accompanied by two Midlothian farmers,
paid a visit to the poet in Dumfries, when this song, with other recent pro-
ductions, was submitted to them. Burns entertained these visitors to a set
dinner in his house, on which occasion, besides Dr Maxwell, Dr Mundell,
and other gentlemen, Jean Lorimer, and her father, were present.
Mr Cleghorn, on his return to Edinburgh, sent Burns a handsome copy
of the Poems of Gawin Douglas, and at same time requested to be favoured
with a copy of the song in the text. A sudden and severe illness, of which
the poet became the victim immediately after the loss of his only daughter
in autumn, prevented him from answering Cleghorn till January 1796, when
he transcribed the song and wrote to his friend explaining his hapless
condition.]
AT. 37.] Poems and Songs. 207
INSCRIPTION,
WRITTEN ON THE BLANK LEAF OF A COPY OF THE LAST
EDITION OF MY POEMS, PRESENTED TO THE LADY
WHOM, IN SO MANY FICTITIOUS REVERIES OF
PASSION, BUT WITH THE MOST ARDENT SENTI-
MENTS OF REAL FRIENDSHIP, I HAVE SO OFTEN
SUNG UNDER THE NAME OF " CHLORIS."
'Tis Friendship's pledge, my young, fair Friend,
Nor thou the gift refuse,
Nor with unwilling ear attend
The moralising Muse.
Since thou, in all thy youth and charms,
Must bid the world adieu,
(A world 'gainst Peace in constant arms)
To join the Friendly Few.
Since, thy gay morn of life o'ercast ;
Chill came the tempest's lour ;
(And ne'er Misfortune's eastern blast
Did nip a fairer flower.)
Since life's gay scenes must charm no more,
Still much is left behind,
Still nobler wealth hast thou in store
The comforts of the mind!
Thine is the self-approving glow,
Of conscious Honor's part ;
And (dearest gift of Heaven below)
Thine Friendship's truest heart.
208 Poems and Songs. [i?95-
The joys refin'd of Sense and Taste,
With every Muse to rove :
And doubly were the Poet blest,
These joys could he improve.
R. B.
[These verses to Chloris form the concluding portion of the sheet before
referred to, which the poet addressed to his friend Mr Cunningham on yd
August 1795.
Poor " Chloris " henceforth disappears from the scene. Within twelve
short months after this period, the heart of her minstrel ceased to beat and
his lyre was for ever unstrung. Her father sank into poverty, and she be-
came a cheerless wanderer. The last seven years of her life were passed in
Edinburgh. A few friends turned up for her in that city ; and there still
exists an affecting note in her handwriting, returning thanks for some
little kindnesses bestowed. The words are these : " Burns's Chloris is in-
finitely oblidged to Mrs for her kind attention in sending the
newspapers, and feels pleased and flattered by having so much said and
done in her behalf. Ruth was kind and generously treated by Boaz ; per-
haps Burns's Chloris may enjoy a similar fate in the fields of men of talent
and worth. March znd, 1825."
She died in September 1831, at the age of fifty-six, in a humble lodging
in Middleton's Entry, Potterrow (a locality which does not now exist), and
her remains were interred in Newington burying-ground.]
FRAGMENT. LEEZIE LINDSAY.
WILL ye go to the Hielands, Leezie Lindsay,
Will ye go to the Hielands wi' me ?
Will ye go to the Hielands, Leezie Lindsay,
My pride and my darling to be,
[Leaving the Bard for several months in the oblivious position in which
his first Biographer and Editor placed him, we shall now endeavour to fill
up the intervening blank with gleanings from the fifth and sixth volumes of
Johnson's Musical Museum, for which work Burns continued to send little
snatches of song till near the close of his life. Unfortunately the corres-
pondence between the poet and Mr Johnson has not been preserved in the
connected form in which we have the Thomson correspondence, and there-
fore the dates of our author's contributions to the Museum cannot be fixed
with positive certainty. Such of these as have not already found a place in
this and preceding volumes, we now present in their robable order of
tomposition.
/ET. 37.] Poems and Songs. 209
Of the fragment in the text with its corresponding music, Stenhouse
says : " This beautiful old air was communicated by Burns. The stanza
to which it is adapted was written by him, and he intended to have added
some more verses, as appears from Johnson's memorandum written on the
original MS., ' Mr Burns is to send words.' "
The singing of the late John Wilson, Scottish Vocalist, made this song
very popular. The following are the additional words he adopted for
extending it : we cannot say who manufactured them :
" To gang to the Hielands wi' you, Sir,
I dinna see how that may be ;
For I ken na the gate ye are gangin,
Nor ken I the lad I'm gaun wi'
O Leezie, lass, ye maun ken little,
If sae that ye dinna ken me ;
My name is Lord Ronald Macdonald,
A chieftain o 1 high degree.
She has kilted her coats o' green satin,
She has kilted them up to the knee,
And she's aff wi' Lord Ronald Macdonald
His pride and his darling to be."]
FRAGMENT. THE WREN'S NEST.
THE Robin to the Wren's nest
Cam keekin in, cam keekin in ;
O weel's me on your auld pow,
Wad ye be in, wad ye be in ?
Thou's ne'er get leave to lie without,
And I within, and I within,
Sae lang's I hae an auld clout
To rowe ye in, to rowe ye in.
[This is a little ditty with which Mrs Burns used to divert her children
by singing it over to them. The poet got the melody noted down for the
Museum, where it is given (No. 406), with these words, which appear to
be the introductory portion of a similar fragment published by David Herd,
u.nd re-produced in the Museum (No. 483) as follows :
Air "The Wren, or Lennox's love to Blantyre."
The Wren she lies in Care's bed, in Care's bed, in Care's bed,
The Wren she lies in Care's bed, in meikle dule and pyne, jo
III.
2 TO Poems and Songs. [i795-
When in cam' Robin Redbreast, when in cam' Robin Redbreast,
When in cam' Robin Redbreast, wi' sugar-saps and wine, jo.
Now maiden, will ye taste o' this, taste o' this, taste o' this ?
Now maiden, will ye taste o' this, it's sugar-saps and wine, jo.
Na, ne'er a drap, Robin, Robin, Robin,
Na, ne'er a drap, Robin, tho' it were ne'er sae fine, jo.
Then whare's the ring that I gied ye, that I gied ye, that I gied ye,
Say whare's the ring that I gied ye, ye little cutty queen, jo !
I gied it till a soger, a soger, a soger,
I gied it till a soger, was aijc.^ a love o' mine, jo.
He promis'd to be back in Spring, to wed his little Jenny Wren,
But Spring and Simmer baith are gane, and here am I my lane, jo.
The Winter winds 'ill chill me thro', they'll chill me thro', chill me thro',
Ye'll think upn your broken vow, when I am dead and gane, jo.
Our main inducement for inserting this nursery ballad here, arises out of
a little incident recorded by Chambers on the authority of Mrs Thomson
(the Jessie Lewars who attended Burns so kindly during his fatal illness).
" One morning the poet offered, if she would play him any tune of which
she was fond, and for which she desired new verses, to gratify her in that
wish to the best of his ability. She accordingly played the air called ' The
Wren's Nest,' and as soon as his ear got familiar with the tune, he sat down,
and in a few minutes produced the admired song, ' O wert thou in the cauld
blast.' "
The air played by Jessie Lewars was not "The Wren's Nest" (No. 406)
but "The Wren," No. 483 of Johnson. The fifth volume of the Museum,
where they both appear, was not then published, but the proof sheets may
have been in the poet's possession. On the score of the melody, No. 406,
Clarke has made the following note: "This tune is only a bad set o/
fohny's Gray Breeks"}
NEWS, LASSES, NEWS,
THERE'S news, lasses, news-
Gude news I've to tell !
There's a boatfu' o' lads
Come to our town to selL
Chorus The wean wants a cradle,
And the cradle wants a cod
I'll no gang to my bed,
Until I get a nod.
mi. 37.] Poems and Songs. 211
Father, quo' she, Mither, quo' she,
Do what you can,
I'll no gang to my bed,
Until I get a man.
The wean, &c.
I hae as gude a craft rig
As made o' yird and stane ;
And waly fa' the ley-crap,
For I maun till'd again.
The wean, &c.
[This curious ditty is barely intelligible, even to a Scotsman, unless he
has been bred at the plough-tail. We suspect that the words were written
merely to preserve a pretty little melody which our bard recovered-]
CROWDIE EVER MAIR.
O THAT I had ne'er been married,
I wad never had nae care,
iJow I've gotten wife an' weans,
An' they cry " Crowdie " * evermair.
Chorus Ance crowdie, twice crowdie,
Three times crowdie in a day ;
Gin ye " crowdie " ony mair,
Ye'll crowdie a' my meal away.
Waefu' Want and Hunger fley t me,
Glowrin by the hallan en' J ;
Sair I fecht them at the door,
But ay I'm eerie they come ben.
Ance crowdie, &c.
[In a letter to Mrs Dunlop, dated isth December 1793, the poet, antici-
pating what might be his condition when laid on a death-bed, quotes tha
* oatmeal brose, but used as a general term for food.
t frighten. J cottage doorway. f apprehensive.
212 Poems and Songs. D795-
opening stanza and the chorus of this song, as part of an " old Scots ballad."
"I see," he said, "a train of helpless little folks me and my exertions all
their stay ; (and on what a brittle thread does the life of man hang !) If I
am nipt off at the command of fate, even in all the vigour of manhood, as I
am (such things happen every day), Gracious God ! what would become of
my little flock? . . . But I shall run distracted if I think any longer on the
subject 1" On his death-bed, these fears were all realized "Alas, Clarke,
I begin to fear the worst ! As to my individual self, I am tranquil (I would
despise myself if I were not); but Burns's poor widow, and half a dozen of
dear little ones helpless orphans there I am weak as a woman's tear !
Enough of this 1 'Tis half my disease 1 "]
MALLY'S MEEK, MALLY'S SWEET.
Chorus MALLY'S meek, Mally's sweet,
Mally's modest and discreet ;
Mally's rare, Mally's fair,
Mally's every way complete.
As I was walking up the street,
A barefit maid I chanc'd to meet ;
But O the road was veiy hard
For that fair maiden's tender feet.
Mally's meek, &c.
It were mair meet that those fine feet
Were weel laced up in silken shoon ;
An' 'twere more fit that she should sit
Within yon chariot gilt aboon,
Mally's meek, &c.
Her yellow hair, beyond compare,
Comes trinklin down her swan-like neck.
And her two eyes, like stars in skies,
Would keep a sinking ship frae wreck,
Mally's meek, &c.
/ET. 37.] Poems and Songs. 213
JOCKEY'S TAEN THE PARTING KISS.
Air " Bonie lass tak a man."
JOCKEY'S taen the parting kiss,
O'er the mountains he is gane,
And with him is a' my bliss,
Nought but griefs with me remain,
Spare my Love, ye winds that blaw,
Flashy sleets and beating rain !
Spare my Love, thou feath'ry 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 blythe 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 the same.
[The poet is now languishing on a bed of sore sickness and distress.
Hopelessly barred from participating in the delights of which he so lately
sung:
11 The pathless wild and wimpling burn,
Wi 1 Chloris in my arms be mine,"
he is compelled to regard himself as having taken the parting kiss, and
"gone over the mountains" away from the sight and the society of her
whose smile gave alacrity and vigour to his musings. However, he has not
parted with his "singing robes," and here he indites and puts into the lips
of the absent fair one a song not a glad one but breathing of nature in
every line :
" Sound and safely may he sleep,
Sweetly blythe his waukening be."
He has told us that this beautiful "blessing" was his own mother's
favourite "Good Night" at parting "A sound sleep an" a blythe
waukening;" so it was the very last expression her son was likely to
fornt.
214 Poems and Son%s. t I 795-
VERSES TO COLLECTOR MITCHELL.
FRIEND of the Poet, tried and leal,
Wha, wanting thee, might beg or steal ;
Alake, alake, the meikle deil
Wi' a' his witches
Are at it, skelpin jig and reel,
In my poor pouches ?*
I modestly fu' fain wad hint it,
That One-pound-one, I sairly want it ;
If wi' the hizziet down ye sent it,
It would be kind ;
And while my heart wi' life-blood dunted, t.
I'd bear't in mind.
So may the Auld year gang out moanin
To see the New come laden, groanin,
Wi' double plenty o'er the loanin,
To thee and thine :
Domestic peace and comforts crownin
The hale design.
POSTSCRIPT.
Ye've heard this while how I've been licket,
And by fell Death was nearly nicket ;
Grim loon ! he got me by the fecket,
And sair me sheuk ;
But by gude luck I lap a wicket,
And turn'd a neuk.
But by that health, I've got a share o't,
And by that life, I'm promis'd mair o't,
pockets. t servant girl. I throbbed. vest, under woollen shut
;ET - 37-] Poems and Songs. 215
My hale and weel, I'll tak a care o't,
A tentier * way ;
Then farewell folly, hide and hair o't,
For ance and ay !
[Collector Mitchell, from whom the poet in the foregoing lines modestly
borrows a guinea, was an intelligent person, and Burns was wont to submit
his compositions to the test of his critical acumen. Chambers informs us
that he was well-educated, with a design to follow the profession of a
minister. These verses, from allusions contained in them, must have been
penned at the close of 1795. How long the poet's illness had continued or
what were the characteristics of his trouble can only now be guessed at ; for
no particulars regarding these have been handed down for the information
of posterity. His health was evidently now getting into a convalescent
state ; and from the close of January till the month of April 1796 he seems
to have moved about with some hope of permanent physical improvement.]
THE DEAN OF FACULTY.
A NEW BALLAD.
Tune "The Dragon of Wantley."
DIRE was the hate at old Harlaw,
That Scot to Scot did carry ;
And dire the discord Langside saw
For beauteous, hapless Mary :
But Scot to Scot ne'er met so hot,
Or were more in fury seen, Sir,
Then 'twixt Hal and Bob for the famous job,
Who should be the Faculty's Dean, Sir.
This Hal for genius, wit and lore,
Among the first was number'd ;
But pious Bob, 'mid learning's store,
Commandment the tenth remember'd :
* more guarded.
2 1 6 Poems and Songs. [ 1 796.
Yet simple Bob the victory got,
And wan his heart's desire,
Which shews that heaven can boil the pot,
Tho' the devil piss in the fire.
Squire Hal, besides, had in this case
Pretensions rather brassy ;
For talents, to deserve a place,
Are qualifications saucy.
So their worships of the Faculty,
Quite sick of merit's rudeness,
Chose one who should owe it all, d'ye see,
To their gratis grace and goodness.
As once on Pisgah, purg'd was the sight
Of a son of Circumcision,
So may be, on this Pisgah height,
Bob's purblind mental vision
Nay, Bobby's mouth may be open'd yet,
Till for eloquence you hail him,
And swear that he has the angel met
That met the ass of Balaam.
In your heretic sins may you live and die,
Ye heretic Eight-and-Thirty !
But accept, ye sublime Majority,
My congratulations hearty.
With your honors, as with a certain king,
In your servants this is striking,
The more incapacity they bring,
The more they're to your liking.
[The history of this production seems to be that, towards the close cf
1795, in consequence of bad harvests and other causes, there was manifested
much popular discontent, which gave uneasiness to the ministry. In the
Adelphi Theatre of Edinburgh, a public meeting was convened to discuss
politics and adopt means to alleviate the general distress, at which the Hon.
Henry Erskine, Dean of the Faculty of Advocates, presided. Great oflTenca
/ET. 38.] Poems and Songs. 217
was thereby given to the Conservative majority in the Parliament House,
who resolved to set up an opposition candidate for the office of " Dean" at
the ensuing election. The contest was decided on i2th January 1796, when
Robert Dundas of Arniston, by a large majority, supplanted the Whig
favourite.
Burns, besides having a real respect for Erskine, remembered an old
grudge against Dundas, and vented his feelings in the above verses, which
display the wit and vigour of his best days.]
EPISTLE TO COLONEL DE PEYSTER,
MY honor'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 favor worth and merit
As they deserve ;
And ay rowth t o' roast-beef and claret,
Syne, wha wad starve ?
Dame Life, tho' fiction out may trick her,
And in paste gems and frippery deck her ;
Oh ! flickering, feeble, and unsicker J
I've found her still,
Ay wavering like the willow-wicker,
'Tween good and ill.
Then that curst carmagnole, auld Satan,
Watches like baudrons by a ratton
Our sinfu' saul to get a claut|| on,
Wi' felon ire ;
* climb. t abundance. \ insecure. the cat. |j clutch.
2i8 Poems and Songs. [1796.
Syne, whip ! his tail ye'll ne'er cast saut on,
He's aff like fire.
Ah Nick ! ah Nick ! it is na fair,
First shewing us the tempting ware,
Bright wines, and bonie lasses rare,
To put us daft ;
Syne weave, unseen, thy spider snare
hell's damned waft.
Poor Man, the flie, aft bizzes by,
And aft, as chance he comes thee nigh,
Thy damn'd auld elbow yeuks * wi' joy
And hellish pleasure ;
Already in thy fancy's eye,
Thy sicker t treasure.
Soon, heels o'er gowdie, \ in he gangs,
And, like a sheep-head on a tangs,
Thy girning laugh enjoys his pangs,
And murdering wrestle,
As, dangling in the wind, he hangs
A gibbet's tassle.
But lest you think I am uncivil
To plague you with this draunting drivel,
Abjuring a' intentions evil,
1 quat my pen,
The Lord preserve us frae the devil 1
Amen ! Amen !
[Colonel Arentz Schulyer de Peyster, Major Commandant of the Dum-
friesshire corps of Volunteers, although seventy years of age at this date,
survived Burns upwards of a quarter century. He died and was buried in
Dumfries in November 1822, his age being ninety-six. He was of French
extraction, if not a native of France, but served as a British Officer in Upper
Canada during the American war. On retiring from service, he settled down
in Dumfries, the native place of his wife, who was a daughter of Provost
Blair; the wife of Burns's friend, John M'Murdo of Drumlanrig, was
another of Provost Blair's daughters.]
itches. t secured. \ heels o'er head.
/ET. 38.] Poems and Songs. 2 TO
A LASS WI' A TOCHER.
Tune " Ballinamona Ora."
AVVA 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.
Chorus Then hey, for a lass wi' a tocher,
Then hey, for a lass wi' a tocher ;
Then hey, for a lass wi' a tocher ;
Then nice yellow guineas for me.
Your Beauty's a flower, in the morning that blows,
And withers the faster, the faster it grows :
But the rapturous charm o' the bonie green knowes,
Ilk spring they're new deckit wi' bonie white yowes.
Then hey, for a lass, &c.
And e'en when this Beauty your bosom hath blest
The brightest o' Beauty may cloy when possess'd ;
But the sweet, yellow darlings wi' Geordie impress'd,
The langer ye hae them, the mair they're carest.
Then hey, for a lass, &c.
[After a pause of six months, the Thomson correspondence was resumed
for a brief period in February 1796. Mr Thomson wrote on the sth of that
month intimating his intention to publish an octavo edition of his collection,
and requesting Burns to furnish words for a few Irish airs mentioned. The
song in the text was the first result]
HERON ELECTION BALLAD, NO. IV.
THE TROGGER.
Tune '"Buy Broom Besoms."
WHA will buy my troggin, fine election ware,
Broken trade o' Broughton, a' in high repair?
Chorus Buy braw troggin frae the banks o' Dee :
Wha wants troggin let him come to me.
22O Poems and Songs. [1796.
There's a noble Earl's fame and high renown, 1
For an auld sang it's thought the gudes were stown
Buy braw troggin, &c.
Here's the worth o' Broughton 2 in a needle's e'e ;
Here's a reputation tint by Balmaghie. 3
Buy braw troggin, &c.
Here's its stuff and lining, Cardoness's head, 4
Fine for a soger, a' the wale o' lead.
Buy braw troggin, &c.
Here a little wadset, Buittle's 6 scrap o' truth,
Pawn'd in a gin-shop, quenching holy drouth.
Buy braw troggin, &c.
Here's an honest conscience might a prince adorn ;
Frae the downs o' Tinwald, 6 so was never worn.
Buy braw troggin, &c.
Here's armorial bearings frae the manse o } Urr ;
The crest, a sour crab-apple, rotten at the core. 7
Buy braw troggin, &c.
Here is Satan's picture, like a bizzard gled,
Pouncing poor Redcastle, 8 sprawlin like a taed.
Buy braw troggin, &c.
Here's the font where Douglas 9 stane and mortar names;
Lately used at Caily christening Murray's crimes.
Buy braw troggin, &c.
1 The Earl of Galloway. 2 Mr Murray of Broughton.
3 Gordon of Balmaghie. * Maxwell of Cardoness.
8 Rev. Geo. Maxwell of Buittle. 6 John Bushby of Tinwald.
7 Rev. Jas. Muirhead of Urr, who talked of himself as "The Muirhead,'
and displayed family heraldry.
8 Walter Sloan Lawrie of Redcastle.
9 Douglas of Carlinwark, who changed the name of that town to Castle
Douglas.
SET. 38.] Poems and Songs. 221
Here's the worth and wisdom Coilieston l can boast ;
By a thievish midge they had been nearly lost.
Buy braw troggin, &c.
Here is Murray's fragments o' the ten commands ;
Gifted by black Jock 2 to get them aff his hands.
Buy braw troggin, &c.
Saw ye e'er sic troggin ? if to buy ye're slack,
Hornie's 3 turnin chapman he'll buy a' the pack.
Buy braw troggin, &c.
[This is the fourth of the series of Heron Election Ballads. Mr Heron
gained the Election, but he had scarcely entered on parliamentary duties
when a dissolution occurred. " Troggers " are a set of vagrant traffickers
who travel with a donkey and cart laden with all kinds of wares which they
may gather in their journeys, and which they hawk for money or barter.]
COMPLIMENTARY VERSICLES TO JESSIE
LEWARS.
THE TOAST.
Fill me with the rosy wine,
Call a toast, a toast divine ;
Give the Poet's darling flame,
Lovely Jessie be her name ;
Then thou mayest freely boast,
Thou hast given a peerless toast.
[From about the middle of April, Burns was rarely able to leave his
room ; and during a considerable portion of each day he had to keep his
bed. One day he took up a crystal goblet, and inscribed " The Toast"
upon it with his diamond, and presented it to his kind attendant, Miss
Lewars-]
1 Copland of Coilieston. 2 John Bushby. 3 the Devil.
222 Poems and Songs. [1796.
THE MENAGERIE.
Talk not to me of savages,
From Afric's burning sun ;
No savage e'er could rend my heart,
As, Jessie, thou hast done :
But Jessie's lovely hand in mine,
A mutual faith to plight,
Not even to view the heavenly choir,
Would be so blest a sight.
[Mr Brown, the surgeon, on one of his visits to the poet, brought an
advertising sheet describing the contents of a menagerie of wild beasts then
being exhibited in Dumfries. Burns seeing Miss Lewars occupied in
perusing the bill, asked for a sight of it, and he immediately wrote the
above lines on the back of it, with a red pencil]
JESSIE'S ILLNESS.
Say, sages, what's the charm on earth
Can turn Death's dart aside !
It is not purity and worth,
Else Jessie had not died.
ON HER RECOVERY.
But rarely seen since Nature's birth,
The natives of the sky ;
Yet still one seraph's left on earth,
For Jessie did not die.
[Jessie Lewars, a sister of John Lewars, the poet's fellow-exciseman, was
an amiable young woman, who acted the part of a ministering angel in the
household of Burns during this period of distress. Chambers observes that
" it is curious to find him, even in his present melancholy circumstances,
imagining himself as the lover of his wife's kind-hearted young friend ; as if
the position of the mistress were the most exalted in which his fancy could
place any woman he admired, or towards whom he desired to express
gratitud*."]
/ET. 38.] Poems and Songs. 223
O LAY THY LOOP IN MINE, LASS.
Chorus O LAY thy loof * in mine, lass,
In mine, lass, in mine, lass ;
And swear on thy white hand, lass,
That thou wilt be my ain.
A slave to Love's unbounded sway,
He aft has wrought me meikle wae ;
But now he is my deadly fae, t
Unless thou be my ain.
O lay thy loof, &c.
There's mony a lass has broke my rest,
That for a blink \ I hae lo'ed best ;
But thou art Queen within my breast,
For ever to remain.
O lay thy loof, &c.
[The above little song is so very similar in character to the two popular
lyrics addressed to Jessie Lewars which immediately follow, that we are
disposed to regard it as another of those effusions elicited by the poet's regard
for her at this period.]
A HEALTH TO ANE I LOE DEAR.
Chorus HERE'S a health to ane I loe dear,
Here's a health to ane I loe dear ;
Thou 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 ;
* palm of the hand. t foe. % short period.
224 Poems ami Songs. [1796.
3 Tis sweeter for thee despairing,
Than ought 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 in thine arms Jessy.
Here's a health, &c.
I guess by the dear angel smile,
I guess by the love-rolling e'e ;
But why urge the tender confession,
'Gainst Fortune's fell, cruel decree ? Jessy.
Here's a health, &c.
[This beautiful lyric Currie believed to be " the last finished offspring " of
Burns's Muse. Seldom has Burns excelled this love-song in elegance of ex-
pression, poetic sentiment, and perfect lyrical execution. Jessie Lewars, th"
subject of the verses, was married about three years after this period, to Mr
James Thomson, writer in Dumfries 3rd June 1799 being the date of the
marriage. A family of five sons and two daughters was the result of the
union. She survived her husband, and spent the years of her widowhood
at Maxwelltown near Dumfries. It will be remembered that, at the great
Burns- Festival held near the Ayr Monument on 6th August 1844, Jessie
Lewars and her husband sat next to the relatives of the Poet, on the right
hand of the chairman. In her death she was not far separated from them,
for her tombstone is fixed in the wall, close to the Mausoleum of the Bard.
We there read that her husband died on 5th May 1849, aged 75, and that
she died on 26th May 1855, aged 77.]
O WERT THOU IN THE CAULD BLAST.
O WERT thou in the cauld blast,
On yonder lea, on yonder lea,
My plaidie to the angry airt,
I'd shelter thee, I'd shelter thee ;
Or did Misfortune's bitter storms
Around thee blaw, around thee blaw,
/ET. 38.] Poems and Songs, 225
Thy bield should be my bosom,
To share it a', to share it a'.
Or were I in the wildest waste,
Sae black and bare, sae black and bare,
The desert were a Paradise,
If thou wert there, if thou wert there ;
Or were I Monarch o' the globe,
Wi' thee to reign, wi' thee to reign,
The brightest jewel in my crown
Wad be my Queen, wad be my Queen.
[Mendelssohn composed a melody for the words in the text, which he
arranged as a Duet. It is described by Chambers as " an air of great
pathos, ' such as the meeting soul may pierce," in which the great German
composer seems to have divined the peculiar feeling, beyond all common
love, which Burns breathed into the song."]
INSCRIPTION TO MISS JESSY LEWARS
ON A COPY OF THE SCOTS MUSICAL MUSEUM, IN FOUR
VOLUMES, PRESENTED TO HER BY BURNS.
THINE be the volumes, Jessy fair,
And with them take the Poet's prayer,
That Fate may, in her fairest page,
With ev'ry 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.
DUMFRIES, June z6tk, 1796.
[The first volume of this presentation copy of the Museum (so far as
published in the life-time of Burns) was exhibited, bearing the above
III. P
226 Poems and Songs, [1796.
inscription on its fly-leaf, at Dumfries, on the occasion of the Burns
Centenary in 1859. In the bard's published correspondence is a letter from
him to Johnson, the original of which bears to have been delivered by post
on i7th June 1796. It concludes thus: "My wife has a very particular
friend, a young lady who sings well, to whom she wishes to present the
Scots Musical Museum. If you have a spare copy, will you be so obliging
as to send it by the very first Fly, as I am anxious to have it soon."
Cromek, who first published the letter in 1808, says in a foot-note : " In
this humble and delicate manner did poor Burns ask for the copy of a Work
to which he had gratuitously contributed not less than 184 original, altered,
and collected songs!" Allan Cunningham, who personally knew nothing
of the transaction, thus rashly ventured to remark in his latest edition :
" Will it be believed that this humble request was not complied with 1 "
This calumny was repeated in that biographer's note to a later letter of the
bard, thus : " Few of the last requests of the poet were effectual : Clarke,
it is believed, did not send the second pound-note he wrote for : Johnson
did not send the copy of the Museum which he requested, and the Com-
missioners of Excise refused the continuance of his full salary."
We gladly aid in wiping away the injustice thus done to Johnson, who,
although poor, was known to be a generous man, and greatly esteemed by
Burns. In the Edinburgh Subscription list, which was opened after the
poet's death for the benefit of his family, we find the name of "James
Johnson, engraver," set down for Four pounds; while George Thomson
subscribes no more than Two guineas.]
FAIREST MAID ON DEVON BANKS.
Tune " Rothiemurchie."
Chorus FAIREST maid on Devon banks,
Crystal Devon, winding Devon,
Wilt thou lay that frown aside,
And smile as thou wert 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.'
Fairest maid, &c.
Then come, thou fairest of the fair,
Those wonted smiles, O let me share ;
/ET. 38.] Poems and Songs. 227
And by thy beauteous self I swear,
No love but thine my heart shall know.
Fairest maid, &c.
[This last strain of the great master of lyric eloquence is dated from
" Brow, on the Solway Frith, i2th July 1796," and he died on aistof same
month. There were two fair maids on Devon banks, whose charms he had
celebrated in 1787, namely Charlotte Hamilton, and Peggy Chalmers. We
cannot bring ourselves to conceive that he ever had much love for Charlotte,
although he praised her beauty highly ; whereas, it is manifest from some
observations which dropped from Clarinda, that he did dream of a common-
sense, practical passion for Peggy Chalmers, afterwards Mrs Lewis Hay.
That lady herself, when living in widowhood, at Edinburgh, in the early
part of this century, informed Thomas Campbell, the poet, that Burns had
made her a serious proposal of marriage. 1 He must at one period have
been impressed with the notion that he had declined in her favour through
the slander of tale-bearers, and this ruling thought is strongly expressed in
the above song :
" Could'st thou to malice lend an ear!
O did not love exclaim : ' Forbear,
Nor use a faithful lover so.' "
Burns left Dumfries for Brow on 4th July, and returned home on the i8th.
On the 2ist, early in the day, all was over.]
1 We state this on the information of Dr Carruthers of Inverness, who
had it personally from Campbell.
GLOSSARY.
A\ all.
Aback, backwards.
Abeigh, or abiegh, at a distance.
Aboon, above, up.
Abread, abroad, in sight.
Abreed, in breadth.
Ae, one ; usually pron. yae.
Aff, off.
Aff-loof, off-hand,
Afore, before.
Aft, oft.
A/ten, often.
^^, or #/><?, on one side.
Agley, off the right line.
Aiblins, perhaps.
A in, own.
Airles, hiring money.
Airl-fenny, a silver penny
given as airles.
Aim, iron, a mason's chisel.
Airt, region of the earth or
sky.
A iih, an oath.
Aits, oats.
Aiver, an old horse.
Aizle, a hot cinder.
Alake, alas.
A lane, alone.
Amaist, almost.
Amang, among.
An', and.
An, if. See gif, gin.
A nee, once.
^w<?, one.
Anent, concerning, about.
A nit her, another.
Ase, ashes of wood.
Asteer, stirring.
Attour, moreover, besides.
Atween, between.
Atweel no, by no means.
Aught, eight ; possession.
Auld, old.
Auld-farran* , or att I d-f arrant,
sagacious, prudent, cun-
ning.
Auld-shoon, old shoes.
Aumous, alms.
Ava, at all.
Awa, away, begone.
Awftt', a\vful.
Awn, the beard of corn.
Aivnie, bearded.
Ayont, beyond.
Ba\ ball.
Babie-clouts, child's first
clothes.
Backets, buckets.
Backlins-comin, coming back.
Back-yett, private gate.
Bad, did bid.
Baggie, the belly.
Baide, endured, did stay.
Bainie, with large bones.
Bairin, laying bare.
Bairn, a child.
Baith, both.
Baiveridge, hansel drink.
Ballets, ballants, ballads.
Ban, to swear, or curse.
Bane, bone; banie, see bainie.
Bang, to drive, to excel.
Bannock, flat soft cake.
230
Glossary of Scots Words.
Bardie, diminutive of bard.
Barefit, barefooted.
Barket, barked.
Barkin, barking.
Barley-bree, barley-broo, juice
of barley, malt liquor.
Barmie, like barm.
Batch, a crew, a gang.
Baits, botts, a disease in horses.
Bauckie-bird, the bat.
Baudrons, a cat.
Bank, a cross beam.
Bauks, rafters.
Bauld, bold.
Baws'nt, having a white stripe
down the face of horses,
dogs, and cattle.
Be, or bee, give over, cease.
Bear, barley.
Bearded-bear, barley with its
bristly head.
Beastie, diminutive of beast.
Beet, beek, to add fuel to a fire.
Befa\ to befall or happen.
Beld, bald.
Bellys, bellows.
Belyve, by and by.
Ben, into the parlour.
Benmost-bore, the inmost corner.
Bent, coarse grass.
Bethanket, grace after meat.
Beuk, a book.
Bicker, a wooden dish, a short
rapid race.
Bickering, hurrying, quarrel-
ling.
Biel\ or bield, shelter.
Pien, wealthy, snug.
Big { to build.
Biggin, building, a house.
Biggit, built.
Bill, a bull.
Billie, a brother, a companion.
Bing, a heap of grain, potatoes,
&c.
Birdie-cocks, young cocks.
Birk, birch.
Birkie, a conceited fellow.
Birnie, wiry.
Birring, the noise of par-
tridges, &c., when they
rise.
Birses, bristles.
Bit, nick of time, place.
Bizz, a bustle, to buzz.
Black's the grun, as black as
the ground.
Blastet, worthless.
Blastie, a shrivelled dwarf, a
term of contempt, full of
mischief.
Blate, bashful, sheepish.
Blather, bladder ; nonsense.
Blathrie, idle talk, flattery.
Blaud, to slap.
Blaudin-shower, a heavy rain.
Blaw, to blow, to boast.
Blcer't, eyes dim with weeping.
Bleer my een, dim my eyes.
Bleeze, flame ; bleezin, flaming.
Blellum, nonsense.
Blether, to talk idly.
Blettfrin, talking idly.
Blink, a little while, a smiling
look.
Blinkin, smirking.
Blinker, a term of contempt.
Blirt and blearie, outburst of
grief.
Blue-gown, beggars who got
annually, on the king's
birthday, a blue cloak or
gown with a badge.
Bluid, or blude, blood.
Blype, a shred, a large piece.
Babbit, danced.
Bock, to vomit.
Socket, gushed, vomited.
Bodle, two pennies Scots.
Bogie, a morass.
Bonie, bonnie, bonny, hand-
some.
Glossary of Scots Words.
231
Bonnock, or bannock, a thick
cake of bread.
Board, a board.
Boortree, the shrub elder.
Boost, behoved, must needs.
Bore, a hole in a wall.
Botch, an angry tumour.
Bother, to make a fuss.
Bousing, or bowsing, drinking.
Bouk, body, bulk.
Bow-hougWd, out-kneed.
Bow-kail, cabbage.
Bowd, bended, crooked.
Brackens, or breckens, ferns.
Brae, a declivity.
Braid, broad.
Braik, a harrow to break clods.
Braindge, to run rashly for-
ward.
Braindgt,"thehorsebraindg't"
plunged in the harness.
Brak, broke, became insolent.
Brankie, gaudy, spruce.
Branks, a wooden curb for
horses.
Brash, a sudden illness.
Brats, coarse clothes, children.
Brattle, a short race, hurry.
Braw, gallant, handsome, fine,
expensively dressed.
Brawlys, or brawlyns, very well.
Braxies, diseased sheep.
Breastet, or breastit, sprung up
or forward.
Breastie, diminutive of breast.
Brechame, a horse-collar.
Bree, juice, liquid.
Breef, an irresistible spell.
Breeks, breeches.
Brent, smooth and polished.
Brent-new, brand-new, in fa-
shion.
Brewin, brewing, gathering.
Brig, a bridge.
Brisket, the breast, the bosom.
Brither, a brother.
Brock, a badger.
Brogue, a hum, a trick.
Broo, broth, liquid, water.
Broose, a race at country wed-
dings.
Brose, a dish made of oatmeal
seasoned.
Browst, ale, as much as is
brewed at a time.
Brugh, a burgh ; a lunar halo.
Bruilyie, a broil, combustion.
Brunstane, brimstone.
Brunt, did burn, burnt.
Brust, to burst, burst.
Buchan-bullers, the waves off
the coast of Buchan.
Buckskin, an inhabitant of Vir-
ginia.
Buff our Beef, thrash us sound-
ty-
Buff and blue, the Whig livery.
Buirdly, stout made.
Bum-clock, the humming beetle.
Btimmin, humming as bees.
Bummle, to blunder, to drone.
Bummle, or bttmmler, a blun-
derer.
Bunker, a window - seat, or
chest.
Bure, did bear.
Bitrn, bttrnie, small stream.
Burn-e-win\ the blacksmith.
Burr-thistle, the thistle of
Scotland.
Biiskit, dressed.
Btit, without, void of.
But and ben, the country kit-
chen and parlour.
By, beyond.
Byke, a bee-hive.
Byre, a cow-house.
Ca\ to call, to drive.
Ca't, or ca?d, called, driven,
calved.
Cadger, a carrier.
232
Glossary of Scots Words.
Cadie, or caddie, a message-
goer.
Caff, chaff.
Caird, a tinker.
Cairn, loose heap of stones.
Calf-ward, an enclosure for
calves.
Calimanco, thick cotton cloth
worn by ladies.
Callan, or callant, a boy.
Caller, or cauler, fresh and
cool.
Callet, a follower of a camp.
Caw, came.
Canna, cannot.
Cannie, gentle, mild.
Cannilie, dexterously, gently.
Cantie, or canty, cheerful.
Cantraip, a charm, a spell.
Cap-stane, a cape-stone, key-
stone.
carng, anxous.
Carl, or <r<w/, an old man.
Carl -hemp, male stalk of
hemp.
Carles, cards.
Castock, the stalk of a cabbage.
Caudron, a cauldron.
Ca& flwo' keel, chalk and red
clay.
Cauld, cold.
Caw/, a cup, a quaich.
Cavie, a hen-coop.
Chantin, chanting.
Chanter, drone of a bagpipe.
C^a/, a person, a fellow.
Chaup, a stroke, a blow.
Cheeket, cheeked.
Cheek for chow, side by side.
Cheep, a chirp, to chirp.
CfoV/, chield, or <r^<?/, a young
fellow.
Chimla, or chimlie, fire-place.
Chimla-lug, the fire-side.
Chirps, cries of a young bird.
Chittering, shivering.
Chockin, choking.
Chow, to chew.
Chuckie, a brood-hen.
C>5$*, fat faced.
Clachan, hamlet.
Claise, or does, clothes.
Claith, cloth.
Claithing, clothing.
Clap, clapper, the clapper of a
mill.
Clarkit, wrote.
Clartie, dirty, filthy.
Clash, an idle tale.
Clatter, an idle story.
Claught, snatched at.
Claut, to scrape.
Clauted, scraped clean.
Claver, clover.
Clave_rs and havers, nonsense.
Claw, to scratch.
Cleckin, a brood of chickens.
Cleed, to clothe.
Cleek, hook, snatch.
Clegs, the gad flies.
Chnkin, jerking, clinking.
Clinkin down, sitting down
hastily.
Clinkum bell, the church bell-
ringer.
Clips, wool-shears.
Clishmada-ver, idle conversa-
tion.
Clock, to hatch, a beetle.
Clockin, clucking of a hen.
Cloot, the hoof of a cow, &.C.
Clootie, the devil.
Clour, a contusion.
Clout, to repair.
Cluds, clouds.
Clunk, the sound of drinking
from a bottle.
Coaxin, wheedling.
Coble, a fishing boat.
Cod, a pillow,
Coft, bought.
Cog, a wooden dish.
Glossary of Scots Words.
233
Coila, from Kyle, a district in
Ayrshire, so called, saith
tradition, from Coil, or
Coilus, a Pictish monarch.
Collie, a sheep dog.
Collie-shangie, an Irish row.
Comin, coming.
Commaun, command.
Convoyed, accompanied.
Cood, the cud.
Coof, a blockhead, a ninny.
Cookit, appeared and disap-
peared by fits.
Cooser, a stallion,
Coost, did cast.
Coot, the ancle.
Cootie, a wooden dish.
Corbies, carrion crows.
Core, corps, party.
Corn't, fed with oats.
Cent hie, kind, loving.
Cove, a cave.
Cowe, to keep under.
Coivp, to barter, to tumble over.
Coivpet, tumbled over.
Cowrin, cowering.
Cowte, a colt.
Cozie, cozicly, snug, snugly.
Crabbit, crabbed, fretful.
Crack, conversation, to con-
verse.
Crackin, conversing.
Craig, craigie, a high rock, the
neck.
Craiks, cries, the corn rail.
Crambo-clink, or crambo-jingle,
doggrel verses.
Crank, the noise of an un-
greased wheel.
Crankous, fretful, captious.
Cranreuch, the hoar-frost.
Crap, a crop, to crop.
Craw, a crow of a cock.
Creel, a basket.
Crceshie, greasy.
Cronie, a friend, a gossip.
Crood, or croud, to coo as a
dove.
Croon, a hollow moan.
Crooning, humming.
Crouchie, crooked-backed.
Grouse, cheerful, courageous.
Crousely, cheerfully, courage-
ously.
Crowdie, a brose made of oat-
meal, hot water, and
butte'r.
Crcnvdie-time, meal-time.
Crowlin, crawling hatefully.
Crummie's nicks, marks on
cows' horns.
Crttmmie, or crombie, a cow
with crooked horns.
Cnnnntock, a staff with a
crooked head. See Cum-
mock.
Crump-crumpin t hard and
brittle.
Crunt, a blow on the head
with a cudgel.
Crushin, crushing.
Cuddle, to clasp fondly.
Cuif, see coof.
Cumwock, or crummock, a
staff with a crooked head.
Curch, or curchie, kerchief.
Curchie, a curtsey.
Curler, a player at curling.
Curling, a game on the ice.
Curmurring, murmuring.
Ciirpan, the crupper, the rump.
Curple, the rear of a person or
animal.
Cushat, the dove, or wood-
pigeon.
Cutty, short.
Cutty-stool, or crce pie- chair ^
stool of repentance.
Dadie, or daddie, a father.
Baffin, merriment, foolishness.
Daft, merry, giddy, foolish.
234
Glossary of Scots Words.
Daft-buckie, mad fish.
Daimen, rare, now and then.
Daimen-icker, an ear of corn
occasionally.
Dainty, good-humoured.
Dancin, dancing.
Dandered, wandered.
Dapprt, dappled.
Darklins, darkling, without
light.
Daud, or dawd, a large piece
of bread, &c., to thrash to
abuse.
Daudin-showers, rain urged by
wind.
Daur, to dare ; datir't, dared ;
daurna, dare not.
Daiirg, or daurk, a day's
labour.
Daut, or daivt, to fondle, to
caress.
Dautet, dawtit, fondled, ca-
ressed.
Davoc, diminutive of Davie.
Dawin, dawning of the day.
Dead-sweer, very loath, averse.
Dearies, sweethearts.
Dearthfu', dear, expensive.
Deave, to deafen.
Deil-ma-care t no matter for all
that.
Deleerit, delirious.
Descrive, to describe, to per-
ceive.
Deuks, ducks.
Devle, or devel, a stunning blow.
Dight, to wipe, to clean corn
from chaff.
DimpFt, dimpled.
Ding, to excel.
Dink, neat, lady-like.
Dinna, do not.
Dirl, a sudden tremulous
stroke.
Disrespecket,^ disrespected.
Distain, stain r
the
and
Dizzen or dizz'n, a dozen.
I Dochter, daughter.
Doided, silly from age.
Dolt, stupified, crazed, also a
fool.
Donsie, affectedly neat and
trim.
Doo, dove, pigeon.
Doodle, to dandle.
Dool, sorrow ; to " sing dool,"
to lament, to mourn.
Dorty, saucy, nice.
Douse, or dottce, sober, wise,
prudent.
Doucely, soberly, prudently.
Dought, was or were able.
Doup, backside, end of a
candle.
Doup-skelper, striker on
breech.
Dour and din, sullen
sallow.
Douser, more prudent.
Dow, am or are able, can.
Dowff, pithless, frivolous.
Doivie, worn with grief.
Downa, not able, cannot.
Doylt, mdoylte, wearied.
Dozen, stupified, benumbed.
Drab, a young female beggar,
Drap, a drop, to drop.
Drappin, dropping.
Drauntin, drawling,
Dreep, to ooze, to drop.
Dreigh, tedious.
Dribble, drizzling slaver.
Driddle, the motion of a bad
violinist, or dancer.
Drinkin, drinking.
Droddum, the breech.
Drone, part of a bagpipe.
Droop nimpFt, that droops at
the crupper.
I Droiiket, or droukit, wet.
' Drouth, thirst, drought.
Drucken, druken, drunken.
Glossary of Scots Words.
235
Drumly, muddy.
Drumniock, or drammock, oat
meal and cold water
mixed.
Drunt, pet, sour humour.
Dryin, drying.
Dub> a small pond.
Duds, rags, clothes.
Duddie, ragged.
Dung, worsted, pushed.
Dunsh, a heavy push.
Dunted, throbbed, beaten.
Dusht, overcome with fear.
Dyvor, bankrupt.
Ee, or ee, the eye.
Een, the eyes.
Ee-bree, the eyebrow.
E'en, e'enin, the evening.
E'en, as ; een's even as.
Eerie, frighted, haunted.
Eild, old age.
Elbuck, the elbow.
Eldrich, ghastly, elvish.
En', end.
Enbrugh, or Embrugh, Edin-
burgh.
Eneugh, and eneuch, enough.
Ensuin, ensuing.
Especial, especially.
Ether-stone, stone formed by
adders.
Ettle, to try, attempt, aim.
Eydent, diligent, busy.
Fa\ fall, lot, to fall, fate.
Fa' that, deserve that.
Faddom't, fathomed.
Faes, foes.
Faem, foam of the sea.
Faiket, forgiven or excused.
Fain, desirous of.
Fairin, present from a fair.
Fallow, fellow.
J-'and, did find.
Fareweel, fareweel, adieu.
Farl, a cake of bread.
Fash, trouble, care.
Faskeous, troublesome.
Fasht, troubled.
Fasten e'en, Fasten's even.
Fathrals, or fatfrels, ribbon
ends.
Fought, fight.
Fauld, and fald, a fold for
sheep.
Faut, orfaute, fault.
Fawsont, decent, seemly.
Fearfu', fearful, frightful.
Fear't, affrighted.
Feat, neat, spruce, clever.
Fecht, to fight.
Fecht'n, fighting.
Feck, number, quantity.
Fecket, an under-waistcoat.
Feckfu', large, brawny, stout.
Feckless, puny, weak, silly.
Feckly, mostly.
Feg, a fig.
Pegs, faith, an exclamation.
Feide, feud, enmity.
Fell, keen, biting.
Felly, relentless.
Fend, fen', to make a shift.
Per lie, orferley, to wonder.
Fetch, to pull by fits.
Fetch't, pulled intermittently.
Fey, strange.
Fidge, to fidget ; fidgin, fidget-
ing.
Fidgin-fain, tickled with plea-
sure.
Fien-ma-care, the devil may
care.
Fitnt, fiend, a petty oath.
Fier, sound, healthy.
Fierrie, fiery, bustling active.
Fissle, a bu.^le.
Fit, foot or footstep.
Fittie-lan, the near horse of
the hindmost pair in the
plough.
Glossary of Scots Words.
Fizz, to make a hissing noise,
fuss.
Flaffin, the motion of rags in
the wind ; of wings.
Flaite, did flyte or scold.
Flannen, flannel.
Flang, threw with violence.
Fleech, supplicate ; fleechin,
supplicating.
Fleesh, a fleece.
Fleg, a fright, a random blow.
Plether, to flatter.
Flethrin, flattering.
Fley, to scare, to frighten.
Fley'd, scared, frightened.
Flichter, flichtering, to flutter.
Flinders, shreds, broken pieces.
Flingin-tree, a flail.
Flisk, to fret at the yoke.
Flisket, fretted ; flisky, skittish.
Flittering, fluttering, vibrating.
Flunkie, a servant in livery.
Flyte, fly ting, scold, scolding.
Poor, hastened, progressed.
Foord, a ford.
Foorsday, Thursday.
Forbears, forefathers.
Forby, or forbye, besides.
Forfain, jaded, forlorn.
Forgie, to give.
Forjesket, jaded.
Forniawed, worn out.
Foil, or fit 1 ', full, drunk.
Foiighten, forf ought en, trou-
"bled, fatigued.
Foul-thief, the devil.
Fouth, plenty, enough.
Fow, a bushel, also a pitch-
fork.
Frae, from.
Freath, froth.
Frien\ friend.
Fud, tail of a hare.
Fuff, to blow intermittently.
Fulyie, foul matter.
Funnie, full of merriment.
Fur-ahin, the hindmost horse
on the right hand when
ploughing.
Furder, further, succeed.
Furm, a form, a bench.
Fusionless, spiritless.
Fyfteen, fifteen.
Fyke, trifling cares.
Fyle, to soil, to dirty.
FyVt, soiled, dirtied.
Gab, the mouth ; to speak
pertly.
Caberlunyie, a beggar.
Gae, to go ; gaed, went ; gane
or gaen, gone ; gaun, go-
ing.
Gaet or gate, way, manner,
road.
Gairs, coloured insertions on
wearing apparel.
Gang, to go, to walk.
Gangrel, a wandering person.
Gar, to make, to force to;
gar't, forced to.
Garten, a garter.
Gash, wise, sagacious, talka-
tive.
Gatty, failing in body, swelled.
Gaucy, oigawcie, large, plump.
Gaud, and gad y a rod or goad.
Gaudsman, one who drives the
horses at the plough.
Gaunted, yawned, longed.
Gawkie, a thoughtless person.
Gaylies, and gaylins, pretty
well.
Gear, riches, goods of any
kind.
Geek, to toss the head in scorn.
Ged, a pike.
Ged's hole, the grave.
Gentles, great folks.
Genty, elegant, well-bred.
Geordie, a guinea.
Get t a child, a young one
Glossary of Scots Words.
237
Ghaist, a ghost.
Gie, to give ; gied, gave ; gien,
given.
Gif, if; see gin, also an.
Giftie, diminutive of gift.
Giglets, laughing youths.
Gillie, diminutive of gill; Gaelic
for boy.
Gilpey, a half-grown boy or
girl.
Gimmer, a ewe two years old.
Gin, if ; see gif, also an.
Gipsey, a young girl.
Girdle, a round iron plate on
which cakes are fired.
Gim, to grin, to twist the
features in rage, agony,
&c. ; a snare for birds.
Girnin, grinning.
Girran, a little vigorous
animal.
Gizz, a periwig, the face.
Glaikit, inattentive, foolish.
Glaive, a sword.
Glaizie, smooth, like glass.
Glaiim^d, grasped.
Gled, a species of hawk.
Gleg, sharp, ready.
Gley, a squint, to squint.
Gleyde, an old horse.
Glib - gabbit, that speaks
smoothly and readily.
Glieb, a portion of ground.
Glint, to peep as light, quickly.
Glintin, peeping.
Glinted by, went brightly past.
Gloamin, the twilight.
Gloamin-shot, twilight musing.
GlovJr, to stare.
Gloivrin, gazing.
Glum, displeased.
Glunch, a frown ; to frown.
Goavan, moving vacantly.
Gor-cocks, moor-cocks.
Gowan, the flower of the daisy.
Gowany, covered with daisies.
Gowd, gold.
Gffivff, the game of golf.
Gowk, the cuckoo.
Gowly to howl ;
howling.
Grain^ or grane, to groan.
Graip, a pronged instrument.
Graith, accoutrements, furni-
ture.
Graizle, to move like unoiled
machinery.
Grannie, grandmother.
Grape, to grope ; grapet,
groped.
Grat, did greet, or shed tears.
Great, grit, intimate, familiar.
Gree, to agree.
Green-graff, green grave.
Greet, to shed tears, to weep.
Greetin, weeping.
Grey-nick-quill, a bad quill.
Griens, longs, desires.
Grieve, steward.
Grippet, seized, catched.
Grissle, gristle, or stump.
Groaning-mazit, drink at a
lying-in.
Groset, or grosel, a gooseberry.
Grousome, loathsome, grim.
Grumph, a grunt ; to grunt.
Grumphie, a sow.
Grumphin, grunting.
Grun\ ground.
Grunstane, a grindstone.
Gruntle, the snout, a grunting
noise.
Grunzie, a pig-shaped mouth.
Grushie, thick, of thriving
growth.
Gude> the Supreme Being.
Gude au Id- has -been, once ex-
cellent.
Cude, or guid, good.
Gudes, m guids, commodities.
Gude or guid e'en, good even-
ing.
Glossary of Scots Words.
Gude or guidfather, and gude-
mother, father-in-law, and
mother-in-law.
Gudeman and gudewife, the
master and mistress of the
house.
Gude - ivillie, hearty, with a
will.
Gully, or gullie, a large knife.
Gulravage % running wild with
joy.
Gumlie, muddy, drumly.
Gumption, discernment.
Gusty, gustfu*, tasteful.
Gut-scraper, a fiddler.
Gutcher, grandsire.
Ha\ hall.
Haddin, house, home.
Hoe, to have, to accept.
Haen, had.
Haet, fient haet, a petty oath.
Haffet, the side of the head.
Hafflins, not fully grown.
Hag, a scar, moss ground.
Haggis t an oatmeal pudding.
Hain, to spare, to save;
hain'd, spared.
Hain 'd gear, hoarded money.
Hairst, harvest.
Haith, a petty oath.
Hai-vers, nonsense.
HaF, or hald, an abiding place.
Hale, whole, tight, healthy.
Hallan, a rustic porch.
Haly, holy.
Hame, home ; hamely, familiar.
Han* -afore, see Larf-afore.
Han's breed, hand's breadth.
Hansel-throne, throne when
first occupied.
Hap, an outer garment.
Hap-shackled, bound fore and
hindfoot.
Hap-step-arf-loup, hop, skip,
and leap.
Happer, a hopper, the hopper
of a mill.
Happin, hopping.
Harigals, heart, liver, and
lungs.
Harkit, hearkened.
Harn, a very coarse linen.
Hash, a term of contempt.
Hastit, hastened.
Haud, to hold.
Haughs, low-lying, rich land.
Haurl, to pull violently.
Haurlin, pulling roughly.
Haver-meal, coarsely ground
meal
Haveril, haverel, a quarter-wit.
Havins, good manners.
Hawkie, a cow.
Healsome, healthful, whole-
some.
Heapit, heaped.
Hearst, hear it.
Hearse, hoarse.
Heather, or hether, heath.
Hech, a sigh of weariness.
Hecht, promised.
Heels-owre-gowdie, topsy-turvy.
Heeze, to elevate, to raise, to
lift.
Hellim, the rudder or helm.
Herrin, herring.
Herry, to plunder.
Herryment, devastation.
Hersel, herself.
Het, hot, heated.
Heugh, hollow under a crag;
coal-heugh, a coal-pit;
lowan heugh, a blazing pit.
Hilch, to halt ; hilchin, halting.
Hiney, honey.
Hing, to hang ; hang; hung.
Hirple, to walk with difficulty.
Hirplin, limping.
Hirsel, as many cattle or
sheep as one person can
attend.
Glossary of Scots Words.
239
Histie, dry, chapt, barren.
Hitch, a loop, a stop, a knot
Hizzie, a wild young girl.
Hoddin, hobbling.
Hoddin-grey, woollen cloth of
a coarse quality.
Hoggie, a one-year-old sheep.
Hog-score, the distance-line in
curling.
Ilog-shotither, to justle.
Hoodie-craw, a carrion crow.
Hool, outer skin or husk..
Hoolie, or /fo0/j/, slowly,
leisurely.
Hoard, a hoard, to hoard.
Hoordet, hoarded.
Horn, a drinking tumbler
made of horn.
Hornie, the devil.
Host, or hoast, to cough
roughly.
Hostin, coughing.
Hatch ' d, moved excitedly.
Houghmagandie, fornication.
Hcnvlet, an owl.
Housie, diminutive of house.
Hove, hoved, to heave, swollen.
Howdie, a midwife.
Howe, a hollow or dell.
Howebackit, sunk in the back.
Howff, a house of resort.
Howk, to dig.
Howkin, digging deep.
Howket, digged.
Hoy, hoy't, to urge, urged.
Hoyse, to pull upwards.
Hoyte, motion between a trot
and gallop.
Huchalfd, moving with a
hilch.
Hughoc, diminutive of Hugh.
Hums and hankers, mumbles
and hesitates.
Hunkers, the hams.
Hurcheon, a hedgehog.
Hurdles, the crupper, the hips.
Hushion, a stocking wanting
the foot, worn on the
arm.
/', in.
Icker, an ear of corn.
ler-oe, a great-grandchild.
Ilk, or ilka, each, every.
Ill-deedie, mischievous.
/// o't, awkward at it.
Ill-ivillie, malicious ; opposite
of Gude-ivillie.
Indent in, indenting.
Ingine, genius, ingenuity.
Ingle, fire, fireplace.
Ingle-lotue, light from the fire.
/ rede ye, I advise ye, I warn
ye.
Pse, I shall or will.
Ither, other, one another.
Jad, giddy young woman.
Jauk, to dally at work, to trifle.
| Jaukin, trifling, dallying.
I Jauner, idle talk, slack -jaw.
| Jaup, a jerk of any liquid.
I Jaw, coarse raillery ; jaw -hole,
a sink for foul water.
fillet, a jilt, a giddy girl.
Jimp, slender waisted, hand-
some.
Jinglin, jingling.
Jink, to dodge.
Jinkin, dodging.
\Jink ari diddle, tremulous
movement.
! Jinker, a gay sprightly girl.
\Jirt, a jerk, to squirt.
! Jocteleg, a kind of knife.
j Jokin, joking.
| Jouk, to stoop.
Jow, pealing sound of a bell.
Jumpin, jumping.
Jundie, a push with the elbow.
Kae, a daw.
240
Glossary of Scots Words.
Kail, colewort, a kind of broth.
Kailrunt, the stem of colewort.
Kain, fowls, &c., paid as rent.
Kebars, rafters. See " Banks."
Kebbuck, a cheese.
Keckle, joyous cry.
Keek, a sly look, to peep.
Kennin, knowledge, a small
matter.
Ket, a matted fleece of wool.
Key, a pier or harbour.
Kiaugh, carking anxiety.
Kilt, to truss up the clothes.
Kimmer, a young girl, a gossip.
Kin, or kith, kindred.
Kin\ kind.
Kintra, kintry, country.
Kirn, the harvest supper, a
churn.
Kirsen, to christen, to baptize.
Kist, chest, a shop counter.
Kitchen, anything that is eaten
as a relish with bread.
Kith, or kin, kindred.
Kittle, to tickle, ticklish.
Kittlen, a young cat.
Kiutlin, cuddling, fondling.
Kiutle, to cuddle.
Knaggie, like knags, or points
of rocks.
Knap, to strike or break.
Knappin-hammer, a hammer
for breaking stones.
Knurlin, knotty.
Knowe, a small round hillock.
Kye, cows, kine.
Kyte, the belly.
Kythe y to discover.
Labor, or labour, toil ; to thrash
or plough.
Laddie, diminutive of lad.
Laggen, the angle between the
side and the bottom of a
wooden dish.
Laigh, low.
Lairin, lairie, wading in mud,
&c., miry.
Laith, loath.
Laithfu\ bashful.
Lallans, the Lowlands.
Lambie, diminutive of lamb.
Lammas moon, harvest moon.
Lampit, a limpet.
Lan\ land, estate.
Lan? -afore, or han * -afore, fore-
most horse in the plough.
Lari-ahin, or han'-ahin, the
hindmost horse in the
plough.
Lane, lone ; my lane, thy lane,
myself alone, thyself alone.
Lanely, lonely.
Lan%, long ; to long, to weary.
Langsyne, long ago, time long
past.
Lap, did leap.
Late and air, late and early.
Laughin, laughing.
Lave, the rest.
Lav'rock, the lark.
Latvian', lowland.
Lay my dead, attribute my
death.
Lea, unploughed land.
Lea'e, or lea, to leave.
Leal, loyal, true, faithful.
Lear, learning, lore.
Lee-lang, live-long.
Leesome luve, lawful love.
Leeze me on, a phrase of endear
ment.
Leister, a three-pronged and
barbed dart for striking
fish.
Leugh, did laugh.
Leuk, a look, to look.
Libbet, castrated.
Lick, to beat ; licket, beaten.
Lift, sky, firmament.
Lightly, sneeringly.
Lilt, a ballad, a tune ; to sing,
Glossary of Scots Words.
241
Limmer, a kept mistress.
Limp't) limped, hobbled.
Link, to trip along ; linkm,
tripping along.
Linn, a waterfall, a cascade.
Lint, flax ; lint i' the bell, flax
in flower.
Lintwhite, a linnet ; litit-ivhite,
flaxen.
Livin, living.
Loan, loaning, a narrow way
between hedges, or low
dykes.
Loof, the palm of the hand.
Loot, did let.
Loove, or luve, love ; to Me, to
love.
Losh, man! rustic exclamation.
Loun, or loon, a low fellow.
Louper-like, larf -louper, a
stranger of a suspected
character.
Lout, or loot, to stoop down.
Low in, flaming.
Lowin-drouth, burning desire
for drink.
Lowe, a flame, to flame.
Lowrie, or tod lowrie, the fox.
Lowse, to loose ; lowsed, un-
bound, loosed.
Lug, the ear.
Lug of the law, at the ear of the
judge.
Lugget, having a handle.
Luggie, a small wooden dish
with a handle.
Lum, chimney ; lum-head,
chimney- top.
Lunt, a column of smoke.
Lyart, grey.
Mae, and mair, more.
Maggo? s-mtati food for the
worms.
MaJioun, Satan, false Prophet.
Mailen, a farm.
III. Q
Maist, most, almost.
Maistly, for the greater part.
Mak, to make ; makin, making.
Mally, Molly, Mary.
Mang, among.
Manse, the minister's house.
Manteele, a mantle.
Mark, merk, a Scottish coin.
Marled, party-coloured.
Mar's year, the year 1715.
Martial chuck, soldier's fol-
lower.
Mashlum, mixed corn, messlin.
Mask, to infuse.
Maskin-pat, teapot.
Maukin, a hare.
Maun, must ; maunna, must
not.
Maut, malt.
Mavis, the thrush.
Maw, to mow ; maivin, mow-
ing.
Mawn, a basket without a
handle, used for holding
seed, &c.
Meere, or meare, a mare.
Melder, a load of corn for the
mill.
Mell, to meddle ; also a mal-
let.
Melvie, to soil with meal.
Men\ to mend.
Mense, good manners, de-
corum.
Menseless, ill-bred, rude, im-
pudent.
Merle, the blackbird.
Messan, a small dog, a mong-
rel.
Middin, a dunghill.
Middin-creels, manure pan-
niers.
Milkin-shiel, a place where
cows or ewes are brought
to be milked.
Mini, affectedly meek.
242
Glossary of Scots Words.
Mim-mou'd, gentle-mouthed.
Min\ to remember.
Minawae, minuet.
Minnie, mother, dam.
Mirk, dark ; darkness.
Misca\ to abuse, to call names.
Misca'd, abused, slandered.
Mishanter, misadventure.
Mislead d unmannerly.
Misteuk, mistook.
Mither, mother.
Mixtie - maxtie, confusedly
mixed,
Moudiwort, a mole.
Moistify, to moisten, to soak.
Moots, earth, mould.
Many, or monie, many.
Moop, to nibble.
Moorlari, belonging to moors.
Morn, to-morrow.
Mottie, full of motes.
Mou\ the mouth.
Mottsie, diminutive of mouse.
Muckte, or meikle, great,
much.
Muses' -stank, muses'-rill.
Musie, diminutive of Muse.
Muslin-kail, thin broth.
Mutchkin, an English pint.
Mysel, myself.
Na, no, not, nor.
Nae, or na, no, not any.
Naething, nothing.
Naig, a horse, a nag.
Nane, none.
Nappy, strong ale.
Neglecket, or negleckit, neg-
lected.
Neebor, or neibor, a neighbour.
Neuk, nook.
Niest, nighest, next.
Nieve, nief, the fist.
Nievefit 1 , handful.
Niffer, an exchange, to barter.
Niger, a negro.
Nit, a nut.
Norland, belonging to the
north.
Nottft, noticed.
Nowte, nolt, oxen, black cattle.
0\ of.
O boot, into the bargain.
at, of it.
Ony, or onie, any.
Or, is often used for ere, be-
fore.
Orra-duddies, superfluous rags.
Ourie, shivering, outlying.
Oursel, oursels, ourselves.
Outlers, cattle unhoused.
O'er gang) to tread on.
Overlay, an upper cravat.
Ower, owre, or ow'r, over.
Owsen, oxen.
Oxter d, supported under the
Pack, intimate, familiar ;
twelve stone of wool.
Paidle, paidlin, to walk in
water.
! Paine h, paunch.
! Paitrick, a partridge.
Pang, to cram.
Parle, courtship.
Paris hen, parish.
Parritch, or porritch, oatmeal
pudding.
Pat, did put ; a pot.
Pattle, or pettle, a small spade
to clean the plough.
| Paughty, proud, haughty.
I Paiikie, cunning, sly.
j Pay't, paid, beat.
I Peat-reek, smoke of peats ; a
sort of whisky.
Peek, to breathe short as in
asthma ; pechin, breathing
short.
j Peghan, the crop, the stomach.
Glossary of Scots Words.
243
Finnic, riches; penny fee,
small money wages; penny-
whee.p, small beer.
Fet, a favourite.
Fettle, to cherish.
Philabeg, the Highland kilt.
Phraise, fair speeches.
Phraisin, flattering.
Pibroch, a martial air on the
bagpipe.
Pickle, a grain of corn.
Pigmy-scraper, little fiddler.
Pine, Qrpyne, pain, uneasiness.
Pingle, trouble, difficulty.
Pint-stoiup, a two-quart mea-
sure.
Plack, an old Scotch coin.
Plackless, penny less.
Plaidie, diminutive of plaid.
Platie, diminutive of plate.
Plew, or pleugh, a plough.
Pliskie, a trick.
Pock, a meal-bag.
Poind, to seize cattle, &c., for
debt.
Poortith, poverty.
Paste, a nosegay, a garland.
Pott, to pull ; pottd, pulled.
Pouk, to pluck.
Poussie, a hare or cat.
Pout, a polt, a chick.
Pou't, did pull.
Poutherie, pouthery, like pow-
der.
Pow, the head, the skull.
Pownie, a little horse, a pony.
Powther, or pouther, gunpow-
der.
Preclair, supereminent.
Preen, a pin.
Prent, printing, print.
Prie, to taste.
Prief, proof.
Prig, to cheapen, to dispute.
Priggin, cheapening.
Primsie, demure, precise.
Propone, to lay do\vn, to pro
pose.
Ptmd, pound.
Pyet, a magpie.
Pyle, peel, skin.
'Pystle, epistle.
Quaick, cry of a duck.
Quat, quit ; to quit.
Qiiauk, to quake ; qiuuikin,
quaking.
Qneck, or quaich, a drinking-
cup.
Quey, a young cow.
Quines, queans, young women.
Ragweed, herb, ragwort.
Raible, to rattle nonsense.
Kair, to roar ; rairin, or
roarin, roaring.
Raize, to madden, to inflame.
Ramfeezled, fatigued, over-
powered.
Rainpin, or rampangin, raging.
Ram- slam, thoughtless, for-
ward.
Randie, a shrew.
Rantin, joyous.
Raploch, coarse cloth.
Rarely, excellently, very well.
Rash, a rush ; rash-buss, a bush
of rushes.
Rat ton, a rat.
Rancle, rash, reckless.
Raiight, or rax\l, reached.
Raw, a row.
Rax, to stretch, to reach out.
Ream, cream, froth.
Reamin, brimful, frothing.
Reave, or rieve, take by force.
Rebute, repulse, rebuke, rebuff.
Reck, to heed.
Rede, counsel ; to counsel, to
discourse.
Red-peats, burning turfs.
Red-ivat-shod, wa 1 k in g i n blood .
244
Glossary of Scots Words.
Red-wud, stark mad.
Ree, half drunk, fuddled, wild.
Reek) smoke.
Reekin, smoking ; reekit,
smoked.
Reestit, arrested.
Remead, remedy.
Requite, requited.
Restricket, restricted.
Rew, to smile, to take pity on.
Rickles, shocks of corn, stocks.
Riddle, sieve.
Rief-randies, sturdy thieves.
Rig, a ridge.
Rin, to run, to melt ; rinnin,
running.
Rink, a curling term.
Rif t a handful of unthre-sbed
corn.
Ripplin-kame, instrument for
dressing flax.
Risket, a noise like the tearing
of roots.
Rock, or roke^ the distaff.
Rockin, evening gathering.
Rood, or rude, the cross.
Roon, a shred.
Roose, to praise.
Rouri, round.
Roupet, hoarse with a cold.
Row, to roll, to wrap.
Row't, rolled, wrapped.
Rozvtin, lowing.
Rowte, to low, to bellow.
Rowth, plenty.
Rozet, rosin.
Rumble -gumption, common-
sense.
Run-deils, downright devils.
Rung, a cudgel.
Runkled, wrinkled.
Runt, the stem of colewort.
Ruth, compassion.
Ryke, reach ; raught, reached.
Sae t so.
Soft, soft.
Sair, to serve, a sore ; sairie,
sorrowful.
Sairly, sorely; much.
Sair't, served.
Sang, a song.
Sark, a shirt ; sarket, provided
in shirts.
Saugh, willow.
Saiigh-woodies, willow-wands.
Saul, soul.
Saumont, salmon.
Saunt, saint ; sauntet, dead and
glorified.
Saut, salt ; sautet, salted.
Saw, to sow ; sawin, sowing.
Sax, six ; saxty, sixty.
Scar, to scare ; scaur, apt to be
scared ; a precipitous
bank of rock or earth.
Scaud, to scald.
Scauld, to scold ; scaivl, a scold.
Scone, a kind of bread.
Sconnor, or scunner, a loathing.
Scraich, to scream.
Screed, to tear, a rent.
Scrieve, to glide swiftly.
Scrievin, gleesomely.
Scrimp, scant.
Scrimpet, scanty.
Scroggie, covered with under-
wood.
Sculduddrie, loose talk; forni-
cation.
Seizin, seizing.
Sel, self; a body's sel, one's
self.
Selft, did sell.
Sen', to send.
Servan', servant.
Sets, sets off, goes away ; fits,
becomes.
Settling settling ; to get a sett-
lin\ to be frightened into
quietness.
Shaird, a shred, a shard.
Glossary of Scots Words.
245
Skangin', a stick attached to a j
dog's tail.
Shank it, walk it ; shanks, legs.
Shauchlt-feet, loose, ill-shaped
feet.
Shaul, shallow.
Shaver, a barber, a wag.
Shavie, an ill turn.
Shaw, to show ; a small wood.
Sheen, bright, shining.
Sheep-shank, to think one's self
nae sheep-shank, to be
conceited.
Sherra-muir, Sherriff-Muir.
Sheugh, a ditch, a trench, a
sluice.
Shicl, shealing, a shepherd's
cottage.
Skill, shrill ; clear sharp
sound.
Shog, a push off at one side.
Shool, a shovel.
Shoon, shoes.
Shore, to offer, to threaten.
Shor\i, half offered and threat-
ened.
Shot, one traverse of the shuttle
from side to side of the
web.
Shoulhcr, the shoulder.
Sic, such ; sic-like, such as.
Sicker, sure, steady.
Sidelins, sidelong, slanting.
Silken-snood, a fillet of silk.
Siller, silver, money, white.
Simmer, summer.
Sin, a son.
Sin', since ; sinsync, since
then.
Skaith, injury.
Skellum, a worthless fellow.
Skelp, to slap.
Skelpin, striking, walking ra-
pidly.
Skelpie-limmer, a female scold.
Skiegh, proud, saucy, mettled.
Skinkin, thin, like soup-mea-
gre.
Skirl, to cry, to shriek shrilly.
Skirlin, shrieking, crying.
SkirTt, shrieked.
Sklent, slant.
Sklented, ran, or hit obliquely.
Skouth, vent, free action.
Skreigh, skriegh, a scream.
Skyrin, party-coloured.
Skyte, worthless fellow ; to
slide rapidly off.
Slade, did slide.
Sloe, sloe.
Slap, a gate, a breach in a
fence.
Slaw, slow.
Slee, sly ; slee'st, slyest.
Sleeket, sleek, sly.
Sliddery, slippery.
Slip-shod, loose shod.
Sloken, to quench, to slake.
Slype, a wet furrow from the
plough.
Slypet-o'er, fell over, as above.
Sma\ small.
Smeddum, dust, mettle, sense.
Smiddy, smithy.
Smirking, good-natured, smil-
ing.
Smoor, to smother ; stnoor'd,
smothered.
Smoutie, obscene: smoutie phiz,
sooty aspect.
Smytrie, a small collection.
Snapper, mistake in walking,
&c.
Snash, impertinence.
Snaw, snow, to snow.
Snaw-broo, melted snow.
Snawie, snowy.
Sneck, the latch of a door.
Sned, to lop, to cut off.
Sued besoms, to cut brooms.
Sneeshin, snuff j sneeshin-mill
snuff-box.
246
Glossary of Scots Words.
Snell, and sntlly, bitter, biting.
Snick-drawin, trick-contriving.
Snirf, snirtle, concealed
laughter.
Snool, sneak.
Snoove, to go creepingly.
Snorin, snoring.
Snotvk, to scent or snuff as a dog.
Sntnvket, scented, snuffed.
Sobbin, or sabbin, sobbing.
Sodger, or soger, a soldier.
Sonsie, lucky, jolly.
Soom, to swim.
Souk, to suck.
Souple, flexible, swift.
Soiiter, a shoemaker.
Smvens, or so'ns, a Scots dish.
Soivp, a spoonful.
Sowth, to whistle over a tune.
Sowther, to solder.
Spae, to prophesy, to divine.
Spails, chips, splinters.
Spairin, sparing.
Spairge, to dash with mire.
Spak, did speak.
Spaul, a limb.
Spates, spcats, sudden floods.
Spaviet, having the spavin.
Speel, to climb.
Spence, the country parlour.
Spier, to ask, to inquire.
Spinnin-graith, wheel and roke
and lint.
Splatter, to splutter ; a splutter.
Spleuchan, a tobacco pouch.
Splore, a frolic, noise, riot.
SprachFd, scrambled.
Sprattle, to scramble.
SpreckFd, spotted, speckled.
Spring, quick air in music.
Spret, a tough-rooted plant.
Sprettie, full of sprets.
Spunk, fire, mettle, wit, spark.
Spunkie, mettlesome, fiery.
Spurtle^ a stick used in making
porridge.
Squad, a squadron.
Squatter, to flutter in water.
Squattle, to sprawl.
Squeel, a scream, a screech.
Stacker, to stagger.
Stack, a rick of corn, &c.
Staggie, diminutive of stag.
Staig, a two-year-old horse.
Stalwart, stately, strong.
Stampin^ stamping.
Stane, a stone.
Stang, sting, stung.
Stank, a pool of standing
water.
Stan't, to stand, did stand.
Stap, stop, stave.
Stapple, a plug, or stopper.
Stark, stout, potent.
Staukin, walking with dignity.
Staumrel, a blockhead, half-
witted.
Staw, did steal, to surfeit.
Steek, to shut ; a stitch.
Steer, to molest, to stir.
Steeve, firm, compacted.
Stegh, to cram the belly ; stegh-
in, cramming.
Stdl, a still commonly a smug-
gler's.
Sten, to rear as a horse.
Stents, dues of any kind.
Stey, steep ; steyest, steepest.
Stibble, stubble ; stibble-rtg,
the reaper in harvest who
takes the lead.
Stick - an'- stow, totally, alto-
together.
Stilt, a crutch ; to limp, to
halt.
Stilts, poles for crossing a
river.
Stimpart, eighth part of a
bushel.
Stinkin, foul smelling.
Stirk, a cow or bullock a year
old.
Glossary of Seals Words.
247
Stock, a plant of colewort,
cabbages.
Stockin, stocking.
Stcok, twelve sheaves.
Stoor, hollow sounding, hoarse.
Stot, an ox.
Stound, sudden pang of the
heart.
Stoup, or stowp, narrow jug
with a handle, for hold-
ing liquids.
Stoure, or stotvr, dust in mo-
tion.
Stown, stolen ; stowlins, by
stealth.
Stoyte, the walking of one
drunk.
S track, did strike.
Strae, straw ; to die a fair strae
death, to die in bed.
Straik, to stroke : straiket,
stroked.
Strappin, tall, handsome, vig-
orous.
Strath, low alluvial land, a
holm.
Sir aught, straight.
Stravagin, wandering without
aim.
Streek, to stretch ; streekit,
stretched.
Striddle, to straddle.
Stroarit, spouted, pissed.
Stroup, the spout.
Strunt, spirituous liquor of any
kind ; to walk sturdily, to
be affronted.
Studdie, the anvil.
Stuff, corn or pulse of any
kind.
Stumpie, diminutive of stump.
Sturt, trouble ; sturlin, af-
frighted.
Styme, a glimmer of light.
Sucker, sugar.
Sud, shou'd, should.
Sugh, the continued sighing.
Sumph, a pluckless fellow.
Suthron, an Englishman.
Swaird, sward ; the smooth
grass.
Swalfd, swelled.
Sivank, stately, jolly.
Swankie, or swanker, a strap-
ping youth.
Swap, an exchange ; to barter,
to coup.
Swarf 'd, swooned.
Swat, did sweat.
Swatch, a sample.
Swats, drink, new ale or wort.
Sweer, lazy, averse ; dead-
swcer, extremely averse.
Swinge, to beat, to whip.
Sivirl, a curve, an eddying
blast or pool, a knot in
wood.
Swith, or swith aw a, get
away.
Swither, to hesitate.
Swoor, or swure, swore, did
swear.
Swttrd, a sword.
Sybow, a thick-necked onion.
Syne, since, ago, then.
Tackets, broad-headed nails.
Tae, a toe.
Taet, a small quantity.
Tak, to take ; takin, taking.
Tangle, a sea-weed used as
salad.
Tap, the top ; tap-pickle, ear
of corn.
Tapetless, heedless, foolish.
Targe, a shield; targe them
tightly, cross - question
them severely.
Tarrow, to murmur.
Tarry-breeks, a sailor.
Tassie, a drinking-cup.
Tauld, or tald, told.
248
Glossary of Scots Words.
Taupie, a foolish person.
Tawie, that allows itself peace-
ably to be handled (spoken
of a cow, horse, &c.).
Tawted, or tawtie, matted to-
gether.
Teethless bawtie, toothless cur.
Ten-hours' -bite, a slight feed
to the horse while in the
yoke in the forenoon.
Tent, a field pulpit; heed,
caution ; to tak tent, to
take heed.
Tentie, heedful, cautious.
Tentless, heedless, careless.
Teugh, tough.
Thack, thatch ; thack an raep,
all kinds of necessaries,
particularly clothing.
Thae, those; distinct from
they.
Thairms, small guts, fiddle-
strings.
Thanket, or thankit, thanked.
Theeket, thatched.
Thegither, together.
Themsel, themselves.
Thick, intimate, familiar.
Thigger, a seeker of alms, a
sorner.
Thinkin, thinking.
Thir, these ; opposed to thae,
those.
Thirl, to thrill; to bind to a
bargain.
ThirFd, thrilled, vibrated ;
bound.
Thole, to suffer, to endure.
Thowe, a thaw, to thaw.
Thowless, slack, lazy.
Thrang, throng, busy; a crowd.
Thrapple, throat, windpipe.
Thraw, a twist, a contradic-
tion.
Thraw, to sprain, to twist, to
contradict.
Thrawin, twisting ; tkraivn t
twisted.
| Threap, or threep, to assert.
I Threshin, thrashing ; threshin-
tree, a flail.
Thretteen, thirteen; thretty,
thirty.
Thrissle, thistle.
Through, to go on with, to
make out.
Throuther, or throtigh-iiher,
pell-mell, confusedly.
Thrum, sound of a spinning-
wheel in motion; thread at
end of a web.
Thud, to make a thumping
noise.
Thummart, foumart, pole-
cat.
Thumpit, thumped ; did beat.
Thysel, thyself.
TiWt, to it ; /a' tilPt, begin.
Timmer, timber ; a tree.
Timmer-prop''t, supported by
timber.
Tine, or tyne, to loose ; tint t
lost.
Tinkler, a tinker.
Tip, or toop, a ram.
Tippence, twopence, money.
Tirl, to make a slight noise.
Tirlin, uncovering ; tirlet,
uncovered.
Tither, the other.
Tittlin, whispering and laugh-
ing.
Tittle, to whisper, to prate
idly.
Tocher, marriage portion ;
tocher bands, marriage
bonds.
Tod, a fox ; Tod t the fauld,
fox in the fold.
Toddle, to totter, like the walk
of a child ; todlen-dow,
toddling dove.
Glossary of Scots Words.
249
To-fa\ a building added, a
lean-to, a place of refuge ;
to fa? 0' the nicht, when
twilight darkens into
night ; pron. tu -fa
(French )
Too, also.
Team, empty ; loomed, emptied.
Toop, a ram ; pron. as with
French u.
Toss, a toast.
Tosie, ruddy with strong liquor.
Tout, the blast of a horn.
Touzle, to ruffle in romping.
Tow, a rope.
Toivtnond, a twelvemonth.
Toivsie, rough, shaggy.
Toy, an old fashion of female
head-dress.
Toyte, to totter like old age.
Trams, shafts ; barrow trams,
the handles of a barrow.
Transmugrifi d, metamor-
phosed.
Trashtrie, trash, rubbish.
Trickie, or tricksie, full of
tricks.
Trig, spruce, neat.
Trimly, cleverly, excellently.
Trinle, the wheel of a barrow.
Trintle, to roll, to trundle.
Trinklin, trickling.
Troggers, wandering mer-
chants.
Troggin, goods to truck or
dispose of.
Trow, to believe.
Trowth, truth ; a petty oath.
Trysts or trystes, appointments.
Tumbler-wheels, the wheels of
a low cart.
Tug, raw hide or rope.
Tulyie, a quarrel.
Twa, two.
Twa-three, a few, two or three.
'Tu<ad t it would.
Twal, twelve.
Twine, to twist.
Twin, to part with ; to give up.
Twistle, twisting.
Tyke, a dog.
Tysday, Tuesday.
Unbacked filly, a mare hitherto
unsaddled.
Unco, strange, uncouth, very
great, prodigious.
Unco, as an adverb, very ;
"unco pack an' thick the-
gither" very intimate and
friendly.
Uncos, news ; strange things
or persons.
Undoin, undoing, ruin.
Unfauld, unfold.
Unkenrfd, unknown.
Unsicker, uncertain, insecure.
Unskaittfd, undamaged, un-
hurt.
Dpo\ upon.
Vafirin, vapouring, boasting
idly.
Vauntie, joyous.
Vera, very.
Virl, a ring round a column.
&c.
vain.
Wa\ wall; wa's, walls.
Wabster, a weaver.
W ad, would ; to bet ; a bet,
a pledge.
Wadna, would not.
Wadset, a mortgage.
Wae, woe ; waefu\ sorrowful.
Waefu - woodie, hangman's
rope.
Waesucks! woe's me! alas ! O
the pity !
WcCflower, wallflower.
Waft, woof.
250
Glossary of Scots Words.
Wair, or ware, to expend.
WaWd on, spent upon.
Wale, choice, to choose.
Wai d, chose, chosen.
Walie, ample, large, jolly ;
also an exclamation of
distress.
Wame, the belly.
Wanchansie, unlucky. .
Wanrest, wanrestfu\ restless, |
unrestful.
Wark, work.
Wark-lume, a tool to work
with.
WarV, or war Id, the world.
WarlcCs-ivorm, a miser.
Warlock, a wizard.
Warly, worldly.
Warran\ a warrant; to war- ;
rant.
Warsle, or warstle, to wrestle. ;
Warsid, orwarstFd, wrestled. ;
Warst, worst.
Wastrie, prodigality.
Wat, or weet, wet.
Wat, I wat, I know, I wot.
Wattle, a twig, a wand.
Wauble, to swing, to reel.
Waught, a copious drink.
Wauket, thickened.
Waukin, waking, watching.
Waukrife, not apt to sleep.
Waur, worse, to worst ;
waur't, worsted.
Wean, or weanie, a child.
Wearie, exhausted.
Weary-widdle, toilsome con-
test.
Weason, weasand, windpipe.
Weavin the stockin, to knit
stockings.
Wecht, weight, solidity.
Wee, little j wee bit, a small
matter.
We eder- clips , instrument for
removing weeds.
Weel, well ; weelfare, wel-
fare.
Weet, rain, wetness ; to wet.
WVse, we shall.
Wha, who.
Whaizle, to wheeze.
Whalpet, whelped.
Whang, a leathern thong, a
thick slice of cheese,
bread, &c.
Whar, whare, where ; whar-
eer, wherever.
Whose, whose ; who's, who is.
What-reck, nevertheless.
Wheep, to fly nimbly.
Whid, a lie.
Whiddin, running as a hare.
Whigmaleeries, fancies.
Whilk, which.
Whingin, complaining.
Whirligigums, useless orna-
ments.
Whisht, silence ; to hold one's
whist, to be silent.
Whisk, to sweep, to lash.
Whisket or whiskit, switched.
Whiskin beard, a beard like
the whiskers of a cat.
Whissle, a whistle, to whistle.
Whitter, a hearty draught of
liquor.
Whittle, a knife.
Whunstane, a whinstone.
Whyles, or whiles, sometimes.
W? t with.
Wick, a term in curling.
Widdie, a rope.
Widdifu\ one who merits
hanging.
Wiel, a small whirlpool.
Wifie, wifikic, diminutive for
wife.
Wight, a man, a person.
Wight, stout, enduring.
M7,Vr^ an > wilfu\ strong and
obstinate.
Glossary of Scots Words.
251
Willy art-glower, a bewildered
stare.
Wimple, to meander, wimpft,
meandered.
Wimplin, meandering.
Win\ the wind.
Win', to wind, to winnow.
Win't, winded as a bottom of
yarn.
Winna, will not.
Winnock, a window.
Winsome, gay, hearty, attrac-
tive.
Wintle, a staggering motion.
Winze, a curse or imprecation.
Wiss, to wish.
Withouten, without.
Wizened, dried, shrunk.
Woer-babs, the garter knitted
below the knee with a
couple of loops.
Wanner, a wonder.
Won, to dwell.
Woo, to court, to make love to.
Woo 1 , wool.
Wordy, worthy.
Worset, worsted.
Wrack, to teaze, to vex, to
destroy,
Wraith, a spirit, a ghost.
Wrang, wrong, to wronsj.
Wud, wild, mad ; red wild,
stark, mad.
Wtunble, a wimble, or gimlet.
Wyliecoat, a flannel vest.
Wyle, blame, to blame.
Yaud, an old horse.
Ye, this pronoun is frequently
used for thou.
Yealings, coevals.
Yearns, eagles; otherwise, earns
Yell, barren, that gives no milk.
Yerk, to lash, to jerk, to excite.
Yerket, or yerkit, jerked.
Yestreen, yesternight.
Yett, a gate.
Yeuks, itches.
Yill, ale.
Yirl, earl.
Yince, once ; yin, one.
Yird, earth ; yirded, earthed,
buried.
Yitt-meal, oat meal.
Yokin, yoking.
Yont, ayont, beyond.
Yirr, a quick, startling sound.
Young guidman, a new
married man.
Yowe, a ewe ; yoivie, dimin-
utive of yowe.
Yu1e t Christmas.
INDEX OF FIRST LINES
IN VOLS. I. II. III.
VOL. PAGE
Adieu! a heart- warm fond adieu ! . . i. 256
Admiring Nature in her wildest grace . . ii. 68
Adown winding Nith I did wander . . iii. 98
Ae day as Death, that gruesome carl . i. 56
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever . . iii. 35
Afar th' illustrious exile roams . . ii. 88
Again rejoicing Nature sees i. 223
Again the silent wheels of Time . . ii. 33
A guid new year I wish thee, Maggie . . i. 160
A head, pure, sinless quite of brain and soul . ii. 141
A Highland lad my love was born . . i. 134
Ah, Chloris, since it may not be . . iii. 144
Ah, woe is me, my mother dear . . i.
A lassie, all alone, was making her moan . iii. 116
All hail, inexorable lord . i. 226
All villain as I am a damned wretch i. 6
Altho' he has left me for greed o' the siller . iii. 14
Altho' my back be at the wa' i. 203
Altho' my bed were in yon muir i. 9
Altho' thou maun never be mine . . iii. 223
Amang the trees where humming bees . . iii. 115
Among the heathy hills and ragged woods . ii. 74
Ance crowdie, twice crowd ie . . . iii. 21 1
Ance mair I hail thee, thou gloomy December iii. 37
And Charlie, he's my darling . . . iii. 128
And I'll kiss thee, yet, yet . . i. 15
And O for ane and twenty, Tarn . , iii. 15
And O my Eppie, my jewel, my Eppie . ii. 175
254 Index to Vols. I. II. III.
VOL. PAGH
An honest man here lies at rest , , i. 43
Anna, thy charms my bosom fire . . ii. 119
An somebody were come again . . ii. 173
An ye had been where I hae been .. , ii. 192
A rosebud by my early walk . . ii. 83
As cauld a wind as ever blew . . > iii. 31
As down the burn they took their way . . iii. 104
As father Adam first was fool'd . . i. 54
As I cam by Crochallan . , , ii. 37
As I gaed doun the water side . , . ii. 186
As I gaed up by yon gate end . , , iii. 144
As I stood by yon roofless tower , . iii. 115
As I stood by yon roofless tower . . iii. 117
As I was a-wandering ae morning in spring . i. 9
As I was walking up the street . iii. 212
Ask why God made the gem so small . , ii. 256
As Mailie an' her lambs thegither , . i. 31
A slave to love's unbounded sway . . iii. 223
As on the banks o' winding Nith . , iii. 8
As Tarn the Chapman on a day . i. 55
A' the lads o' Thorniebank . . . ii. 77
At Brownhill we always get dainty good cheer iii. 10
Auld chuckie Reekie's sair distrest . . ii. 55
Auld comrade dear, and brither sinner . ii. 155
Auld neibor, I'm three times doubly o'er . i. 108
Awa, Whigs, awa ii. 193
Awa wi' your belles and your beauties . iii. 98
Awa wi' your witchcraft o' beauty's alarms . iii. 219
A' ye wha live by soups o' drink . . i. 258
Bannocks o' bear meal, bannocks o' barley . iii. 129
Beauteous rosebud, young and gay . . ii. 150
Behind yon hills where Lugar flows . i. 38
Behold, my love, how green the groves . iii. 150
Behold the fatal hour arrives . . . iii. 36
Behold the hour, the boat arrive . . iii. 104
Below thir stanes lie Jamie's banes . . i. 54
Beyond thee, dearie, beyond thee, dearie , ii. 2^4
Index to Vols. I. II. III. 255
VOL. FAGH
Bless Jesus Christ, O Cardoness , . iii. 142
Blest be M'Murdo to his latest day . > iii. 92
Blythe, blythe and merry was she . ii. 82
Blythe hae I been on yon hill . . , iii. 87
Bonnie lassie, will ye go . . . fi. 69
Bonnie wee thing, cannie wee thing . , ii. 255
Braw, braw lads on Yarrow braes . . iii. 7
Bright ran thy line, O Galloway .. . iii. 93
But lately seen in gladsome green . . iii. 149
But rarely seen since Nature's birth . . iii. 222
But warily tent when ye come to court me , iii. 97
By Allan stream I chanc'd to rove . . iii. 96
By all I lov'd, neglected and forgot , , ii. 145
By Oughtertyre grows the aik . . ii. 82
By yon castle wa' at the close of the day . ii. 246
Can I cease to care, can I cease to languish . iii 194
Canst thou leave me thus, my Katie . . iii, 158
Carle, an the king come . . , ii. 173
Ca' the yowes to the knowes . . ii. 186
Ca' the yowes to the knowes . . iii. 138
Cauld blaws the wind frae east to west . .i. 102
Cease, ye prudes, your envious railing . ii. 5 1
Clarinda, mistress of my soul . . ii. 95
Come, bumpers high, express your joy . , iii. II
Come, let me take thee to my breast . . iii. 99
Contented wi' little, and cantie wi' mair , iii. 156
Corn rigs and barley rigs . i. 36
Curs'd be the man, the poorest wretch in life . ii. 140
Curse on ungrateful man that can be pleas'd . ii. 40
Daughter of Chaos' doting years . ii. 1 52
Dear Myra, the captive ribband's mine ii. 195
Dear , I'll gie ye some advice . ii. 49
Dear Sir, at ony time or tide . . ii. 150
Dear Smith, the slee'st, pawkie thief . i. 184
Deluded swain, the pleasure . , iii. 107
Dire was the hate at old Harla\y . , iii. 215
256 Index to Vols. 1. II. III.
VOL. PAGE
Does haughty Gaul invasion threat . , iii. 191
Dost thou not rise, indignant shade . . iii. 62
Duncan Gray cam here to woo . . , iii. 63
Dweller in yon dungeon dark . . ii. 142
Earth'd up, here lies an impV hell . . iii. 143
Edina, Scotia's darling seat . . ii. 31
Expect na, Sir, in this narration . , i. 250
Fairest maid on Devon's banks , , iii. 226
Fair Empress of the poet's soul t . ii. no
Fair fa' your honest, sonsy face . . ii. 33
Fair maid, you need not take the hint . . ii. 54
Fair the face of orient day . . . ii. 163
Fareweell to a' our Scottish fame . . iii. 21
Farewell, dear friend, may gude luck hit you . i. 265
Farewell, old Scotia's bleak domains, . . i. 269
Farewell, thou fair day, thou green earth, and
ye skies ..... iii. 29
Farewell, thou stream, that winding flows . iii. 157
Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the north ii. 195
Farewell, ye dungeons dark and strong . ii. 98
Fate gave the word, the arrow sped . , ii. 126
Fill me with the rosy wine . . . iii. 221
Fintry, my stay in worldly strife . . ii. 222
First when Maggie was my care . . ii. 174
Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes iii. 17
For a' that, and a' that . . . iii. 161
For auld langsyne, my dear . . , ii. 130
For lords or kings I dinna mourn , . ii. 138
Forlorn, my love, no comfort near . , iii. 199
For thee is laughing Nature gay , . ii. 95
Frae the friends and land I love . , iii. 20
Friday first's the day appointed , . i. 255
Friend of the poet, tried and leal . , Hi. 214
From thee, Eliza, I must go . , i. 260
From the white-blossom'd sloe my dear Chloris
requested ..... iii. 141
Index to Vols. 7. II. III. 25?
VOL. PAGE
From those drear solitudes and frowsy cells . iii. 123
Full well thou know'st I love thee dear . iii. 226
Fy, let us a' to Kirkcudbright . . . iii. 179
Gane is the day, and mirk's the night . . ii. 221
Gat ye me, O gat ye me . . . iii. 171
Go, fetch to me a pint o' wine . . . ii. 132
Gracie, thou art a man of worth . . iii. 167
Grant me, indulgent Heaven, that I may live . iii. 83
Green grows the rashes, O . , i. 40
Gude pity me, because I'm little , i. 127
Gude mornin to your Majesty i. 245
Gude speed and furder to you, Johnie . . i. 103
Had I a cave on some wild distant shore . iii. 95
Had I the wyte, had I the wyte . . iii. 190
Hail, Poesie ! thou nymph reserved . . iii. 6
Hail, thairm-inspirin, rattlin Willie . . ii. 21
Ha ! whaur ye gaun, ye crowlin ferlie . . i. 211
Hark, the mavis* e'ening sang . . . iii. 138
Has auld Kilmarnock seen the deil . . ii. 17
Health to the Maxwell's veteran chief . . iii. 25
Hear, Land o' Cakes, and brither Scots . ii. 176
He clenched his pamphlets in his fist . . ii. 38
Hee, balou, my sweet wee Donald . . iii. 130
Her daddie forbad, her minnie forbad . . ii. 105
Here awa, there awa, wandering Willie . iii. 74
Here awa, there awa, wandering Willie . iii. 76
Here, Brewer Gabriel's fires extinct . . iii. 166
Here is the glen, and here the bower . . iii. 120
Here cursing, swearing Burton lies . . iii. 144
Here Holy Willie's sair-worn clay . i. 73
Her flowing locks, the raven's wing . . i. 112
Here lies Boghead among the dead . . i.
Here lies a mock Marquis, whose titles are
shamm'd ..... iii. 144
Here lies John Bushby, honest man . . iii. 127
Here lies Johttie Pigeon . . . i. 126
HI. R
258 Index to Vols. 1. II. Ill,
VOL. PAGE
Here lie Willie Michie's banes . . , ii. 51
Here lies, now a prey to insulting neglect iii. 122
Here's a health to ane I loe dear . , iii. 223
Here's a health to them that's awa . , iii. 65
Here's a bottle and an honest friend . , ii. 50
Here Souter Hood in death does sleep . i, 42
Here Stuarts once in glory reign'd . . ii. 66
Here's to thy health, my bonie lass . . i. 12
Here where the Scottish Muse immortal lives . iii. 135
He who of Rankin sang, lies stiff and dead . i. 56
Hey, ca' thro', ca' thro' ii. 52
Hey, the dusty miller, and his dusty coat . ii. 104
His face with smile eternal drest . . ii. 141
Honest Will to heaven's away . . ii. 84
How can my poor heart be glad . . iii. 136
How cold is that bosom which folly once fired iii. 121
How cruel are the parents . . . iii. 195
How daur ye ca' me " howlet-face " . . iii. 32
How gracefully Maria leads the dance . . iii. 55
How lang and dreary is the night . . iii. 146
How, Liberty ! girl, can it be by thee named . iii. 141
How long and dreary is the night . . ii. 103
How pleasant the banks of the clear winding
Devon . . . . ii. 85
How Wisdom and Folly meet, mix, and unite ii. 160
Humid seal of soft affections . . . ii. 132
Husband, husband, cease your strife . . iii. 109
I am a bard of no regard . i. 139
I am a fiddler to my trade . , . i. 136
I am a keeper of the law . . . i. 47
I am a son of Mars who have been in many wars i. 130
I am my mammy's ae bairn . . . ii. 96
I bought my wife a stane o' lint . . iii. 39
I burn, I burn, as when thro' ripen'd corn . ii. 146
I call no goddess to inspire my strains . ii. 183
I coft a stanc o' haslock woo, . . . iii. 186
I do confess thou art sae fair . . . iii. 38
I dream'd I lay where flowers were springing . i. 4
Index to Vols. I. II. III. 259
VOL, PAGE
I fee'd a man at Michaelmas . . . iii. 49
If thou should ask my love, could I deny thee ii. 167
If ye gae up to yon hill-tap i. 7
If you rattle along like your Mistress's tongue iii. 122
I gaed a waefu' gate yestreen . . . ii. 189
I gned up to Dunse . , ii. 141
I gat your letter, winsome Willie , i. 90
I had sax owsen m a pleugh . , . iii. 170
I hae a wife o' my ain . . ii. 115
I hae been at Crookieden . . iii. 23
I hold it, sir, my bounden duty . , i. 232
I lang hae thought, my youthfu' friend . i. 240
Ilk care and fear when thou art near . . i. 15
I'll ay ca' in by yon town . . . iii. 173
Ill-fated genius, Heav'n-taught Fergusson . iii. 38
I mind it weel in early date . . ii. 40
I'm now arriv'd, thanks to the gods . , ii. 1 1
I'm o'er young, I'm o'er young . , ii. 96
I'm three times doubly o'er your debtor . i. 108
I murder hate by flood or field . . ii. 220
In coming by the brig o' Dye . . ii. 78
I never saw a fairer .... iii. 58
In human man, curse on thy barb'rous art . ii. 162
In Mauchline there dwells six proper young belles i. 53
In Politics if thou would mix . . . iii. 68
In se'enteen hunder an' forty-nine . . iii. 144
In simmer when the hay was mawn . . iii. 52
Instead of a song, boys, I'll give you a toast . iii. 83
In Tarbolton, ye ken, there are proper young
men ..... i. 10
In this strange land, this uncouth clime . ii. in
In vain would prudence with decorous sneer . ii. 145
In wc-od and wild, ye warbling throng . . iii. 92
I once was a maid, tho' I cannot tell when . i. 131
I see a form, I see a face . . . iii. 202
I sing of a whistle, a whistle of worth . . ii. 197
Is there a whim-inspired fool i. 261
Is there for honest poverty . . iii. 161
26o Index to Vols. I. II. III.
VOL. PAGE
Is this thy plighted fond regard , . iii. 158
It is na, Jean, thy bonie face . . ii. 129
Ithers seek they kenna what . * . iii. 55
It was a' for our rightfu' King . . . iii. 131
It was in sweet Senegal that my foes did me
enthral ..... iii. 48
It was the charming month of May . . iii. 152
It was upon a Lammas night . * i. 36
Jamie, come try me , ii. 167
Jockey's taen the parting kLs , , iii. 213
John Anderson, my jo, John . . ii. 170
Kemble, thou curs't my unbelief . iii. 142
Ken ye ought o' Captain Grose . . ii. 233
Kilmarnock wabsters fidge and claw , . i. 179
Kind sir, I've read your paper through ii. 216
Know thou, O stranger to the fame . . i. 262
Lady Onlie, honest lucky . , ii. 78
Lament him, Mauchline husbands a' . . i. 126
Lament in rhyme, lament in prose . i. 34
Lassie wi' the lint- white locks . . . iii. 153
Last May, a braw wooer cam down the lang
glen ..... iii. 200
Late crippled of an arm, and now a leg . lii. 26
Let me ryke up to dight that tear . . i. 136
Let not woman e'er complain . . , iii, 147
Let other heroes boast their scars . , i. 271
Let other poets raise a fracas . , , i. 155
Life ne'er exulted in so rich a prize . , li, 243
Light lay the earth on Billy's breast . . iii. 126
Lone on the bleaky hilk the straying flocks . ii. 90
Long life, my lord, and health be yours . i. 245
Long, long the night .... iii. 194
Lord, to account who dares thee call , . iii. 82
L d, we thank, and thee adore . , iii. 84
Loud blaw the frosty breezes . . ii. 87
Louis, what reck I by the . . , ii. 128
Index to Vols. I. II. III. 261
VOL. PAGE
Mally's meek, and Mally's sweet . iii. 202
Mark yonder pomp of costly fashion , . iii. 196
Maxwell, if here you merit crave . , iii. 141
Meet me on the Warlock knowe . . iii. 100
Mild zephyrs waft thee to life's farthest shore . ii. 45
Musing on the roaring ocean . . . ii. 106
My bonie lass, I work in brass . . . i. 137
My blessings on ye, honest wife . . ii. 49
My blessins upon thy sweet wee lippie ii. 37
My Chloris, mark how green the groves iii. 150
My curse upon your venom'd stang . . ii. 203
My father was a farmer upon the Carrick border i. 26
My girl she's airy, she's buxom and gay . i. 53
My godlike friend nay, do not stare . . ii. 117
My Harry was a gallant gay . ii. 1 88
My heart is sair, I daurna tell . , . iii. 161
My heart is a-breaking, dear Tittie c ii. 171
My heart is wae, and unco wae . . ii. 79
My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here ii. 196
My heart was ance as blythe and free . . ii. 97
My honor'd Colonel, deep I feel . . iii. 217
My lady's gown, there's gairs upon't . , ii. 47
My lord a-hunting he is gane . . ii. 47
My lord, I know your noble ear . . ii. 71
My lov'd, my honor'd, much respected friend . i. 144
My love, she's but a lassie yet . , . ii. 171
My Luve is like a red, red rose . , iii. 119
My Peggy's face, my Peggy's form .- , ii. 86
My Sandy gied to me a ring . ... , ii. 168
Nae gentle dames tho' ne'er sae fair . . i. 236
Kae heathen name shall I prefix . . ii. 65
No churchman am I for to rail or to write . i. 25
No cold approach, no altered mien . . iii. 54
No more of your guests be they titled or not . iii. 165
No more of your titled acquaintances boast . iii. 31
No more, ye warblers of the wood, no more . iii. 127
No song nor dance I bring from yon great city ii. 211
262 Index to Vols. I. II. III.
VOL. PACK
No sculptur'd marble here, nor pompous lay . ii. 39
No Spartan tube, no Attic shell, . . iii. 133
No Stewart art thou, Galloway . , iii. 93
Now breezy win's and slaughtering guns . i. 37
Now haply down yon gay green shaw . iii. 175
Now in her green mantle blythe Nature arrays iii. 159
Now Kennedy, if foot or horse . . i. 209
Now Nature deeds the flowery lea 9 , iii. 1 53
Now Nature hangs her mantle green , ii. 242
Now Robin lies in his last lair . . i. 99
Now Rosy May comes in wi' flowers . , iii. 100
Now simmer blinks on flowery braes . , ii. 69
Now Spring has clad the grove in green . iii. 204
Now westlin win's and slaughtering guns . i. 37
O a' ye pious, godly flocks , , e i. 60
O ay my wife she dang me . c iii. 169
O bonie was yon rosy brier . , . iii. 203
O cam ye here the fight to shun =. t ii. 189
O can ye labor lea, young man , e iii. 49
O could I give thee India's wealth . , ii. 149
O Death ! hadst thou but spar'd his life . i. 55
O Death ! thou tyrant fell and bloody . . ii. 228
Of a' the air ts the wind can blaw . . ii. 113
Of all the numerous ills that hurt our peace . i. 42
Of lordly acquaintance you boast . . iii. 31
O for him back again ! . f , ii. 188
O Gowclie, terror o' the Whigs ,. . i. 100
O gude ale comes and gude ale goes , . iii. 170
O had each Scot of ancient times . . ii. 61
O had the malt thy strength of mind , . iii. 165
O how can I be blythe and glad e ii. 108
O how shall I unskilfu' try . . ii. 256
O I am come to the low countrie . . iii. 130
O Kenmure's on and awa, Willie . . iii. 24
O ken ye what Meg o' the mill has gotten . iii. 78
O ken ye what Meg o' the mill has gotten . iii. 79
O Lady Mary Ann looks o'er the castle wa* . iii. 45
Index to Vols. I. II. III. 263
O lassie, are ye sleepin' yet . . . iii. 172
O lay thy loof in mine, lass . . . iii. 223
O leave novels, ye Mauchline belles , i. 52
O leeze me on my spinnin' wheel iii. 53
O let me in this ae night . . iii. 172
Old winter with his frosty beard . , iii. 108
O Logan, sweetly did'st thou glide . . iii. 88
O Lord, since we have feasted thus . . iii. 85
O Lord, when hunger pinches sore . . iii. 85
O lovely Polly Stewart . . . iii. II
O Luve will venture in where it daurna weel be
seen ..... ii. 259
O Mary at thy window be . . . i. 17
O May, thy morn was ne'er so sweet . . iii. 34
O meikle thanks my luve o' my beauty . iii. 14
O merry hae I been teethin' a heckle . . i. 143
O mirk, mirk is the midnight hour . . iii. 73
O mount and go ! mount and make you ready ii. 169
On a bank of flowers, in a summer day . ii. 265
On Cessnock banks a lassie dwells . . i. 13
Once fondly lov'd, and still remember'd dear . i. 266
One night as I did wander . . . i. 97
One Queen Artemisa, as old stories tell . i. 55
On peace and rest my mind was bent . iii. 169
O once I lov'd a bonie lass . . . i. i
O open the door, some pity to shew . iii. 76
O Philly, happy be the day . . iii. 154
O poortith cauld, and restless love . . iii. 69
Oppressed with grief, oppress'd with care . i. 230
O raging Fortune's withering blast . i. 24
O rough, rude, ready-witted Rankine . . i. 48
Orthodox I orthodox ! wha believe in John Knox ii. 179
O sad and heavy should I part . . iii. 37
O saw ye bonie Lesley, as she gaed o'er the
border ? . . . . . iii. 56
O saw ye my dearie, my Eppie M'Nab ! . iii. 13
O saw ye my dear, my Philly ? . . iii. 145
O sing a new song to the Lord . . ii, 158
264 tndex to Vols. I. II. HI.
VOL. PACK
O stay, sweet warbling woodlark, stay . iii. 193
O steer her up, and haud her gaun . , iii. 170
O that I had ne'er been married ! . . iii. 210
O that's the lassie o' my heart . . iii. 205
O Thou dread Power who reign'st above . ii. 12
O Thou in whom we live and move . . iii. 32
O Thou Great Being ! what Thou art . . i. 19
O thou pale orb that silent shines . , i. 227
O Thou, the first, the greatest friend . . i. 21
O Thou unknown, Almighty Cause . i. 22
O Thou ! whatever title suit Thee . . i. 150
O Thou, who in the heavens does dwell . i. 69
O Thou who kindly dost provide ii. 32
O thou whom poesy abhors . . ii. 50
O Tibbie, I hae seen the day i. 2
Our thrissels flourished fresh and fair . . ii. 193
Out over the Forth, I looked to the north . ii. 247
O wat ye wha's in yon toun ? . . . iii. 175
O wat ye wha that loes me ? . . . iii. 205
O were I on Parnassus hill . . . ii. 127
O were my love yon lilac fair . . iii. 89
O wert thou in the cauld blast . . iii. 224
O wha my baby-clouts will buy . . i. 202
O wha will to St Stephen's House . ii. 1 19
O when she cam ben she bobbit fu' low . iii. 41
O whistle and I'll come to you, my lad . iii. 97
O why should Fate sic pleasure have ! . . iii. 69
O why the deuce should I repine . . i. 25
O Willie brew'd a peck o' maut . . ii. 185
O wilt thou go wi' me, sweet Tibbie Dunbar ii. 169
O ye wha are sae gude yoursel' . . i. 204
O ye whose cheek the tear of pity stains . i. 43
Peg Nicholson was a good bay mare . ii. 128
''Praise Woman still," his Lordship roars . iii. 112
Rash mortal, and slanderous poet . . ii. 68
Raving winds around her blowing . ii. loi
Index to Vols. I. II. III. 265
VOL. PAGE
Revered defender of beauteous Stuart . . ii. 359
Right, Sir, your text I'll prove it true . i. 270
Robin was a rovin boy . . . . }. 98
Robin shure in hairst, I shure wi' him . . ii. 141
Rusticity's ungainly form . . . ii. 25
Sad thy tale, thou idle page . , , ii. 61
Sae flaxen were her ringlets . . . iii. 139
Sae rantingly, sae wantonly . . ii. 98
Say, sages, what's the charm on earth , > iii. 222
Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled . . iii. 101
Searching auld wive's barrels . , . ii. 184
See the smoking bowl before us , i. 140
Sensibility, how charming . . . iii. 30
She mourns, sweet, tuneful youth . , ii. 39
She is a winsome wee thing . . . iii. 58
She's fair and fause that causes my smart , ii. 147
Should auld acquaintance be forgot . . ii. 130
Shrewd Willie Smellie to Crochallan came . ii. 36
Sic a reptile was Wat, sic a miscreant slave . iii. 122
Sing hey, my braw John Highlandman . i, 134
Sing on, sweet songster of the brier . . iii. 194
Sing on, sweet thrush upon the leafless bough . iii. 72
Sir, as your mandate did request . . i. 206
Sir, o'er a gill I gat your card . . . i. 210
Sir Wisdom's a fool when he's fou . , i. 132
Sir, yours this moment I unseal . . i. 234
Sleep'st thou, or wak'st thou, fairest creature . iii. 148
Some books are lies frae end to end . . i. 74
Spare me thy vengeance, Galloway . . iii. 93
Stay, rny charmer, can you leave me . . ii. 99
Still anxious to secure your partial favour . iii. no
" Stop thief?" Dame Nature called to Death . iii. 126
Strait is the spot, and green the sod . . ii. 58
Streams that glide in orient plains . . ii. 76
Sweet are the banks the banks o' Doon . ii. 248
Sweet closes the ev'ning on Craigieburn wood . ii. 254
Sweet fa's the eve on Craigieburn . . iii. 163
266 Index to Vols. I. II. III.
VOL. PAGE
Sweet flow'ret, pledge o 1 meikle love . . i.i 422
Sweet naivete of feature . . . iii. 61
Talk not to me of savages . . . iii. 222
That there is falsehood in his looks . * iii. 143
The bairns gat out wi' an unco shout . . iii. 49
The blude-red rose at Yule may blaw . . ii. 107
The Catrine woods were yellow seen . . i. 112
The Cooper o' Cuddy cam here awa , . iii. 187
The day returns, my bosom burns . . ii. 125
The deil cam fiddlin thro' the toun . . iii. 50
The Devil got notice that Grose was a-dying . ii. 175
The flower it blaws, it fades, it fa's . . iii. 1 1
The friend whom wild Wisdom's way . . iii. 113
The gloomy night is gath'rin fast . . ii. 13
The heather was blooming, the meadows were
mawn . . . . ii. 45
Their groves o' sweet myrtle, let foreign lands
reckon ..... iii. 198
The King's most humble servant, I . . iii. 84
The laddies by the banks o' Nith . . ii. 210
The lamp of day with ill-presaging glare . ii. 63
The lang lad they ca' Jumpin John . . ii. 105
The last time I came o'er the muir . . iii. 87
The lazy mist hangs from the brow of the hill . ii. 128
The lovely lass o' Inverness, . . . iii. 128
The man, in life wherever placed . i. 20
Theniel Menzies' bonie Mary . , ii. 78
The night was still, and o'er the hill . , ii. 1 1
The noble Maxwells and their power , , iii. 20
Then, gudewife, count the lawin , . ii. 221
Then, hey for a lass wi' a tocher . , iii. 219
The poor man weeps- here Gavin sleeps . i. 263
There's auld Rob Morris that wons in yon glen iii. 63
There's nought but care on every hand . i. 40
There's a youth in the city, it were a great pity ii. 173
There's death in the cup, so beware . . iii. 165
There leevit a carle in Kellyburn Braes . iii. 46
There's nane shall ken, there's nane can guess . iii. 174
tmlex to Voh. I. II. III. 267
VOL. PAGE
There's news, lassies, news, gude news I've to tell iii. 168
There was a bonie lass, and a bonie, bonie lass iii. 241
There was a lad was born in Kyle . i. 98
There was a lass and she was fair . , iii. 90
There was a lass they ca'd her Meg . . ii. 104
There was a wife won'd in Cockpen . , iii. 41
There was five carlins in the South . . ii. 206
There was three Kings into the East . i. 28
There was once a time, but old Time was then
young ..... iii. 4
The Robin to the Wren's nest, cam keekin in . iii. 209
The simple bard, rough at the rustic plough . ii. 2
The simple bard, unbroke by rules of art . i. 265
The small birds rejoice in the green leaves
returning . . . . ii. no
The smiling Spring comes in rejoicing . , iii. 17
The solemn league and covenant . . iii. 164
The sun had closed the winter day . . i. 190
The sun he is sunk in the west i. 5
The Thames flows proudly to the sea . . ii. 167
The wean wants a cradle, the cradle wants a cod iii. 210
The weary pund, the weary pund . . iii. 39
The wind blew hollow frae the hills . . ii. 250
The winter it is passed, and the summer's come
at last ..... ii. 708
The wintry west extends his blast . . i. 18
They snool me sair, an' haud me do\v:} . iii. 15
Thickest night, surround my dwelling . . ii. 76
Thine am I, my faithful Fair . . . iii. 108
Thine be the volumes, Jessie fair . . iii. 225
This day Time winds th' exhausted chain . ii. 212
This is no my ain lassie . . . iii. 202
This wot ye all whom it concerns . . ii. 15
Thou flattering mark of friendship kind . i. 213
Thou greybeard, old Wisdom, may boast of thy
treasures ..... iii. 84
Thou hast left me ever, Jamie . c iii. 105
Thou, Liberty, thou art my theme < iii. 2
268 Index to Vols. I. II. III.
VOL. PAGE
Thou ling'ring star, with less'ning ray . . ii. 200
Thou of an independent mind . , , iii. 186
Tho' cruel Fate should bid us part . , i. 97
Tho' fickle Fortune has deceived me . i. 24
Tho' women's minds, like winter winds , i. 142
Th<5u, Nature, partial Nature, I arraign ii. 135
Thou, who thy honor as thy God rever'st . ii. 253
Thou whom Chance may hither lead . . ii. 115
Thou whom Charice may hither lead . . ii. 133
Thoii's welcome, wean, mishanter fa' ni2 . i. 5
Thro' and thro* the inspir'd leaves . . ii. 50
'Tis friendship's pledge, my young, fair friend iii. 207
To the weaver's gin ye go, fair maids . . ii. 97
To daunton me, to daunton me . . ii. 100
To Riddell, much lamented man . . iii. 167
To you, Sir, this summons I've sent . . i. 267
True-hearted was he, the sad swain o' the
Yarrow ..... iii. 77
Turn again, thou fair Eliza . . . iii. 16
'Twas a' for him, our rightfu' King . . iii. 194
'Twas ev'n, the dewy fields were green i. 263
'Twas in the seventeen hunder year . . iii. 181
'Twas in that place o' Scotland's isle . . i. 164
'Twas na her bonie blue e'e was my ruin . fii. 197
'Twas on a Monday morning . . iii 128
Up an waur them a' Jamie . . . ii. 210
Up in the morning's no for me . ii. 102
Up wi' the carles o' Dysart . . rl. 52
Upon a simmer Sunday morn . . i. 214
Upon that night, when fairies light . . i. 113
Wae is my heart, and the tear's in my e'e . iii. 160
Wae worth thy power, thou cursed leaf . i. 266
We are na fou, we're nae that fou . . ii. 185
We cam na here to view your warks . . ii. 66
Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flower . . i. 224
Wee, sleeket, eow'rin, tira'rous beastie . i. 124
Wee Willie Gray and his leather wallet . iii. 1 68
Index to Vols. I. II. III. 269
VOL. PAGE
We grant they're thine, those beauties all . Hi. 143
We'll hide the cooper behint the door . . iii. 187
Wha in a brulyie will first cry "a parley" iii. 129
Wha is that at my bower door ? . i. 41
Whare are ye gaun, my bonie lass ? . , ii. 194
Whare hae ye been sae braw, lad ? . ii. 192
Whare live ye my bonie lass ? . , iii. 42
What ails ye now, ye lousy bitch . . i. 275
What dost thou in that mansion fair ? . , iii. 93
What of Earls with whom you have supt , iii. 31
What can a young lassie do wi' an auld man ? H. 258
What needs this din about the toon o' Lon'on . ii. 214
What will I do gin my hoggie die ? . ii. 100
Wha will buy my troggin, fine election ware ? . iii. 209
When biting Boreas, fell and dour . ii. 26
When by a generous public's kind acclaim . ii. 44
When chapman billies leave the street . ii. 234
When chill November's surly blast . . i. 57
When dear Clarinda, matchless fair . . ii. 92
When Death's dark stream I ferry o'er . ii. 75
When first I came to Stewart Kyle . . i 53
When first my braw Johnie lad cam to the toun iii. 12
When Guildford good our pilot stood i. 44
When Januar' wind was blawing cauld . iii. 188
When Lascellest hought fit from this world to
depart . . . . iii. 126
When lyart leaves bestrew the yird . . i. 129
When Morine deceased to the devil went down iii. 94
When Nature her great master-piece designed ii. 21
When o'er the hill the eastern star . . lii. 57
When Princes and Prelates, and hot-headed
Zealots ..... iii. 67
When rosy May comes in wi' flowers . . ii. 164
When the drums do beat, and the cannons rattle ii. 169
When wild War's deadly blast was blawn . iii. 80
Where are the joys I hae met in the morning ! iii. 106
Where, braving angry winter's storms . . ii. 86
Where Cart rins rowin to the sea . . iii. ro
270 Index to Vols. I. II. III.
VOL.
While at the stock the shearers cower . . i. 105
While briers and woodbines budding green . i. 8 1
While Europe's eye is fix'd on mighty things . iii. 60
While larks, with little wing, fann'd the pure air iii. 94
While virgin Spring by Eden's flood . . iii. 19
While winds frae off Ben Lomond blaw . i. 64
While new-ca'd kye rowte at the stake , i. 86
Whoe'er he be that sojourns here . , ii. 61
Whoe'er thou art, O reader know . i. 263
Whom will you send to London town . , iii. 177
Whose is that noble dauntless brow . . ii. 43
Why am I loth to leave this earthly scene - i. 23
Why, why tell the lover . . . iii. 200
Why, ye tenants of the lake . . ii. 80
Wi* braw new branks in mickle pride . . i. 273
Willie Wastle dwelt on Tweed . . iii. 43
Will ye go to the Hielands, Lizzie Lindsay , iii. 208
Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary . . i. 235
Wilt thou be my dearie . . . iii. 115
Wishfully I look and languish . . . ii. 255
With Esop's lion, Burns says, sore I feel . ii. 67
With Pegasus upon a day . ii. 144
Wow, but your letter made me vauntie . ii. 202
Ye banks and braes and streams around , iii. 59
Ye banks and braes o' bonie Doon , ii. 250
Ye flowery banks o' bonie Doon . . ii. 249
Ye gallants bright, I ride ye right . . ii. 151
Ye hypocrites ! are these your pranks , ^ iii. 83
Ye Irish lords, ye Knights and Squires , i. 172
Ye Jacobites by name, give an ear * . iii. 22
Ye maggots, feed on Nicol's brain . . ii. 51
Ye men of wit and wealth, why all this sneering iii. 84
Ye sons of old Killie, assembled by Willie . ii. 16
Yestreen I had a pint o' wine . . . ii. 219
Yestreen I met you on the moor i. 2
Ye true " Loyal Natives " attend to my song . iii. 82
Yon wandering rill that marks the hill . iii, 12
Index to Vols. L II. III. 271
VOL. PAGE
Yon wild mossy mountains sae lofty and wide ii. 29
Young Jamie, pride of a' the plain . . in. 119
Young Jockie was the blythest lad, . . ii, 166
Young Peggy blooms our boniest las; . , i. no
Your billet, sir, I grant receipt . . ii. 58
Your friendship much can make me blest , ii. 94
Your News and Reviews, Sir . . , ii. , 148
You're welcome to Despots, Dumourier , iii. 85
You're welcome, Willie Stewart , , iii. n
TURNBULL AND SI'EAKS, I'RINTEKS, EDIN HL'l.CIf.
EDINBURGH ILLUSTRATED EDITION OF THE
POEMS AND SONGS OF ROBERT BURNS
COMPLETE CHRONOLOGICALLY ARRANGED
NOTES, GLOSSARIES, AND INDEX BY W. SCOTT
DOUGLAS AND LIFE BY PROFESSOR NICHOL
WITH TWELVE PHOTOGRAVURES AFTER
DRAWINGS BY MARSHALL BROWN IN
FOUR VOLUMES
" They say best men are moulded out of faults,
And, for the most, become much more the better
For being a little bad."
Measure for Measure, Act v. Scene I.
" Salve vetustae vitse imago
Et specimen venientis ^Evi." G, BUCHANAN.
ROBERT
BURN5
A SUMMARY OF HIS
CAREER AND GENIUS
BY THE LATE
JOHN NICHOL, M.A., LL.D.
Professor of English Literature
In the University of Glasgow
PUBLISHED BY
JAMES THIN W
EDINBURGH 1896
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PORTRAIT . Frontispiece
BIRTHPLACE OF BURNS . Face page 13
FUNERAL OF BURNS ,, 120
NOTE
MR NiCHOL's Essay on Burns was first printed
in 1882, for the subscribers to Mr Scott
Douglas's edition of the Works. It is now pub-
lished without any material alteration : some
corrections have been introduced from marginal
notes in the author's copy.
It was Mr Nichol's intention to revise the
essay for a projected volume of literary studies ;
but the original plan was never carried out.
The essay on Carlyle, which was to have come
second in order, was enlarged into an inde-
pendent book for the series of English Men of
Letters, and the revision of the present work
was not completed. Although the essay as it
stands cannot be taken as representing the
author's final judgment, it is published with the
authority of Mr Nichol's representatives, and (it
is believed) in accordance with his wishes.
W. P. KER.
ythjune 1896.
INTRODUCTORY
IN a bibliography, scarcely inferior in variety
to that which has gathered around Shakespeare,
there is a tract with the heading, " Men who
have failed." Its purpose is apparent ; we can
construct the sermon from the text, as Cuvier
reconstructed a monster from the inspection
of a bone : but the title, as applied, is false.
Whatever Burns' merits or demerits as a man,
the vital part of his career was a swift success,
and, what is of more moment, a lasting one.
Every decade in which his presence recedes,
his power grows : his passionate strength has
overleapt the barriers of his dialect. Almost
every British critic, during the last half century,
has pelted or hailed him : everything that
should be said of him, and everything that
should not, has been said, often clumsily, often
disconnectedly, yet on the whole exhaustively ;
4 Robert Burns
so that little remains but to correct conflicting
exaggerations. Burns has suffered from two
sets of assailants. The " unco guid," who
" compound for " social meanness and religious
malice, by damning other things " they have
no mind to," had a score against him, which,
during his life and after, they did their best to
pay : and they believed him to be worse than
he was because they wished it. The "unco"
bad were keen to exaggerate his weakness, that
they might throw over their own vulgar vices
the shield of a great name. On the other
hand, the idolatry of a nation, prone to canonise
its illustrious dead, has oppositely erred. " No
poet, from the blind singer of Troy downwards,
is his peer ; " " What would become of the
civilised world were his writings obliterated ? "
such are the common-places of festival speeches,
of journalists patriotically inspired. He has
been worshipped, shouted about, preached at,
pointed to as a warning, held forth as an
example. " The roar of his drunkards " has
proclaimed him a saint ; the grim moralist, to
the zealot's joy, has denounced him as the
chief of sinners. It is as natural as harmless
that a recent accomplished biographer, selected
A Summary of his Career and Genius 5
on the Heraclitean principle of contrasts, should
sigh over his " Socinian tendencies," and daintily
regret the publication of his quenchless satires :
it is inevitable that a literary censor, whose
writings are sometimes models of style, always
mirrors of complacency, should label his wood-
notes as hardly superfine. He has had plenty
of praise, plenty of blame, enough of " allow-
ances," far more than enough of patronage : he
has rarely had what few men have often
simple justice.
" The work of Burns," says his first editor,
" may be considered as a monument not to
his own name only but to the expiring genius
of an ancient and independent nation." The
antithesis of our chief latinist better represents
the attitude of our chief poet, who was at once
the last of the old and the first of the new.
He came in the autumn or evening of our
northern literature, but around him was the
freshness of the morning and the May. Like
Chaucer, he stood on the edge of two eras,
and was a prophet as well as a recorder, em-
balming and exalting legend and song, affront-
ing and rending inveterate superstitions ; the
chief satirist as well as the lyrist of his race.
6 Robert Burns
A Jacobite and a Jacobin, holding out hands
to " Charlie " over the straits and to Washing-
ton across the Atlantic, the monument of his
verse, "vetustae vitae imago," bears a beacon
"venientis aevi." Pupil of Ramsay, master of
Tannahill, it is natural that Chloris and Damon
should linger in his pages beside Jean and
Gavin and Davie, and the beggars at Nanse's
splore. Everyone of judgment sees that his
most underived and passionate work was his
best, that his fame rests more firmly on the
records of his freest moods ; more on the Songs
and the Satires, and " Tarn O'Shanter," and the
" Jolly Beggars," than on the " Cotter's Satur-
day Night." But to realise his relation to the
thought and music of his country requires a
study of his antecedents.
Burns was an educated, but not a learned
man, and he drew next to nothing from our
early literature. Of the old Ballads, despite
his residence in the border land, he made com-
paratively little use. The seventeenth century
had little to give him ; when the strife of
Covenanter and Cavalier held the hearts and
threatened the lives of men, the northern Muses
were dumb. Poetry was shrivelled under the
A Summary of his Career and Genius J
frown of Presbyteries. The stream of native
song had been flowing, under black weeds, till
it came to light again in the Jacobite min-
strelsy, where the spirit of the hills first makes
itself felt in the voices of the plain, in the
pastorals of Ramsay, the fresh canvass of
Thomson and Beattie, and the sketches of
native life by Fergusson. From these, his
generously acknowledged masters, Burns in-
herited much ; most from the ill-starred genius
of the last. The loves, animosities, and tempta-
tions of the two poets were akin ; they were
both, almost to boasting, devotees of independ-
ence; both keen patriots, they were alike
inspired with hatred of their country's besetting
sin, hypocrisy ; but there is, on a smaller scale,
the same difference between them that there
is between Chaucer and Shakespeare. " The
Farmer's Ingle " is a quaint picture of a rustic
fireside north of the Tweed, but " The Cotter's
Saturday Night " is a store of household words
for every Scottish home in the nineteenth, as
it was in the eighteenth century ; " Plainstaines
and Causey " prattle, with playful humour, of
the freaks and follies of the society that moves
over them; but about the bridges that span
8 Robert Burns
the Ayr there is thrown the moonlight of the
fairies of the " Midsummer Night." In greater
measure, Burns was the heir of the nameless
minstrels, on whose ungraven tombs he throws
a wreath of laurels wet with grateful tears.
But he likewise exalts them, idealising their
plain-spoken pathos or laughter, making their
local interests universal and abiding.
He was enabled to do so by the fact of his
being inspired by the spirit of the Future as
well as of the Past. He lived when the
so-called " Romantic " literary movement had
been initiated by the publication of Percy's
Reliques, Macpherson's Ossian, and the im-
mortal forgeries of the most precocious genius
in our tongue. Burns never names Chatterton,
probably because he could not read his
masterpieces, but they have many points of
contact. Both were emphatically Bards, as
opposed to the poets of culture by whom they
were, in the eighteenth century, almost ex-
clusively preceded ; both were " sleepless souls,"
but their themes lay far apart. The mysteri-
ously stranded child to whose dingy garret
there came visions of armies in the air, the
flapping of ravens' wings, the sound of seas
A Summary of his Career and Genius 9
in a tumult like that of Kubla Khan, is the
ancestor of Coleridge on his magic side : Burns,
of Wordsworth, to whom he bequeathed his
pathetic interpretation of nature ; and of Byron,
the inheritor of his " passions wild and strong."
They are together petrels of the storm that, shak-
ing " thrones, princedoms, powers, dominions,"
converted Versailles into a moral Pompeii, and
drove the classic canons of art into a museum
of antiquities. The " Freedom dreste in blodde
steyned veste " of the one is like the " stalwart
ghaist " with the " sacred-poesie-Libertie " of
the other. But if the Rowley poems had any
influence on Burns, it came indirectly through
Cowper, who may have borrowed the Olney
Hymn, " God moves in a mysterious way,"
from Chatterton's, beginning, " O God, whose
thunder shakes the sky," and handed on the
same devotional mood to the author of the
prayer
" O thou Great Being what Thou art
Surpasses me to know."
The same breath blows through diverse in-
struments that have, as regards religion, the
same note of scorn for insincerity, and beneath
io Robert Burns
it one major key of perplexity, awe, and resig-
nation. The defiance that rises in Queen Mab
and the Revolt of Islam almost to the shrill-
ness of a shriek, the lurid light of the red star
of Cain, belong to a later age.
William Cowper a reed shaken with the
wind, and yet a prophet a terror -stricken
" castaway," and yet the most conspicuous
leader of a revolt, found in Scotland a vice-
gerent greater than himself, a mighty mass of
manhood, who, free from the intellectual fetters
that bound, the ghastly clouds that obscured,
his elder contemporary, struck more ringing
blows, and soared into a higher heaven.
Finally pace Mr Carlyle to the contrary
the condition of our literature at the time was,
on the whole, favourable to the appearance of
our greatest interpreter. It has been the fashion
to talk contemptuously of the men who, though
with different ideas of finish, reared many of
the foundations upon which we build ; but, if
we except Poetry and Physical Science, the
eighteenth century produced most of what the
nineteenth is content to criticise. " In its latter
half," says Mr Charles Scott in a paper display-
ing rare insight and sympathy, " Scotland was
A Summary of his Career and Genius 1 1
at the culmination of its intellectual glory. It
never stood higher relatively to the rest of
Europe." After supporting his assertion by the
names of Hume, Robertson, Reid, Stewart, and
Adam Smith, he proceeds, " The Bench, the
Bar, and the Pulpit were adorned by men
who, sometimes rough and quaint, were always
vigorous and original. We had in those days
the greatest statesmen Britain has seen . . .
the approach of the French Revolution had
stirred the blood of the people . . . their great
poet alone was wanting. The hour struck and
the man appeared."
II
SURVEY OF BURNS' LIFE
I . First Period, A lloway, \ 7 5 9 1 766.
(JSt. 1-7.)
BURNS was qualified to be a national poet by
his start from the meeting of all the waters of
his country's literature, no less so by the circum-
stances of his birth and the grasp of his genius.
Scion of a family on the North-East, members
of which, by his own account, had shared the
fortunes of the Earl Marischal, he was born
and lived in the South-West among the descen-
dants of the Covenanters, He was a peasant
more in virtue of his prevailing themes than by
his actual rank. Addressing every grade from
the Prince of Wales to roadside tramps, the
" annals of the poor " are dearest to the heart
of one who was often by painful experience
familiar with their sorrows. But Burns himself,
save latterly as a government official, never did
14 Robert Burns
a day's work for others than himself and his
family. His father's status as a tenant farmer
in the Lowlands was equivalent to that of an
English yeoman. His own position in society,
in the lower section of the middle class, went
with his education and his free spirit to make
him as much at ease in the reception rooms of
the aristocracy as in the lanes of Mauchline.
Everything conspired to make him what he
was, a national rather than a peasant poet. In
one of the passages in which he almost petu-
lantly resents the claims of rank, he speaks of
his " ancient but ignoble blood." In the same
spirit Beranger, answering those who " criticise
the paltry de" before his name, rejoices in being
" a very scamp of common stamp." But both
were only half in earnest, and neither without
some pride in their ancestors. Those of Burns
can be traced at least to the latter years of the
seventeenth century, when they are found well
settled in the Mearns. It is worthy of note
that the poet's grandfather, inspired by a zeal
which characterised his descendants, built the
first school-house in the district of his farm.
His third son, William, born in 1721, continued
to reside in Kincardineshire till 1748, when he
A Summary of his Career and Genius 15
migrated southwards as a gardener ; in 1749
laying out the Edinburgh meadows, and from
1750 onwards similarly engaged in Ayrshire,
till, having taken a lease of seven acres in
Alloway, he built on them, largely with his own
hands, the " auld clay biggin " of two rooms,
to which, in 1757, at the age of thirty-six, he
brought home his bride, Agnes Brown of May-
bole. In this house now almost a Mecca to
northern patriots Robert, the first offspring of
the marriage, was born on the 25th January
1759-
For the little record left of the cottage life at
Alloway, we are indebted to three sometimes
conflicting authorities : Burns' letter to Dr
Moore (Aug. 2nd, 1787) ; that addressed to
Mrs Dunlop by his brother Gilbert ; and the
reminiscences of his tutor, Mr John Murdoch,
a young man of rare accomplishments and
sagacity, to whom during their childhood, and
much to their profit, the education of the family
was in large measure committed. The auto-
biographic sketch is a strange chequer of fancy,
philosophy, and recklessness, written in the
sunshine of success, crossed by the shade of
afflictions, and of follies which the writer was
1 6 Robert Burns
simultaneously deploring and recommitting. It
is written with great apparent candour, and
with the author's constant force of style ; the
facts, often lighted up by brilliancies of setting,
are sometimes, it may be, magnified in the haze
of imagination. From the blessing or bane of
the excess of this faculty, Gilbert the only
other junior member of the family who in a
rapid sketch calls for comment was, in his
maturity at least, singularly free. An intelli-
gent and canny Scot of enlarged mind, he is
studiously proper, respectable, and orthodox,
speaking in one strain of " an atheist, a dema-
gogue, or any vile thing." He is a more or less
sympathetic apologist for his brother's weak-
nesses : but, in the interests of truth or of
popular feeling, he more than once attempts to
disenchant Robert's narrative of an element
of romance. The poet attributes the family
migration southward to political causes, de-
scribing his ancestors as " renting lands of the
noble Keiths of Marischal," as having had " the
honour of sharing their fate " and " shaking
hands with ruin for what they esteemed the
cause of their King and their country." Else-
where the same assertion reappears in verse :
A Summary of his Career and Genius 17
"My fathers that name have revered on a throne,
My fathers have fallen to right it ;
Those fathers would spurn their degenerate son,
That name should he scoffingly slight it."
Gilbert, on the alleged authority of a parish
certificate, emphatically asserts that his father
had " no concern in the late wicked rebellion."
Between the romance of the elder and the
caution of the younger brother we have, in this
and other instances, no means of deciding. A
variation of more interest appears in their
diverse estimates of the character of William
Burness himself. There is nothing in the
poet's prose inconsistent either with the picture
of the Cotter, or the noble epitaph ending with
Goldsmith's line " For e'en his failings leaned
to Virtue's side." But of these failings Robert
was far from being piously unconscious. " I
have met with few," he says of his father, " who
understood men, their manners and their ways,
equal to him ; but stubborn ungainly integrity
and headlong ungovernable irascibility are dis-
qualifying circumstances, consequently I was
born a very poor man's son." Elsewhere he
complains of being the victim of parental
prejudice. Gilbert, on the other hand, always
1 8 Robert Burns
defends his father, saying, " I bless his character
for almost everything in my disposition or
habits I can approve." " He was proud of
Robert's genius, but the latter was not amen-
able to controul," which indeed appears to have
been the fact. Genius seldom is amenable to
control : nor is dense stupidity. Murdoch,
writing from London in later years, is lavish in
expressions of love and veneration for his old
employer, in whose two-roomed cottage, a
" tabernacle of clay, there dwelt a larger portion
of content than in any palace in Europe."
" He spoke the English language with more
propriety than any man I ever knew with no
greater advantages. This had a very good
effect on the boys, who talked and reasoned
like men long before others. O for a world of
such ... he was worthy of a place in West-
minster Abbey." Allowing for the exaggera-
tions of filial piety and tutorial gratitude, we
gather that William Burness was, on the whole,
as Mr Carlyle describes him, a man worth going
far to meet, of that force of character which rises
into originality, with a thirst for knowledge and
power of communicating it alike remarkable,
but defective in tact ; none farther from Mack-
:;
! r
A Summary of his Career and Genius 19
lin's Scotchman, for instead of " booing " he
was ostentatiously independent, manly to the
core, and religious, with a softened Calvinism,
expressed in his Manual of Belief, fond of
speculation, within limits, and keen in argu-
ment. In person he was above common stature,
thin and bent; in essence honesty incarnate.
The secret of Scotland's greatness, says the
Times, is oatmeal ; a champion of the Free
Church says it is Sabbatarianism ; a zealous
Presbyter, that it is hatred of Prelacy. Does it
not depend as much on the influence of a few
men of such character as we have described ?
Murdoch's remaining recollections of the quiet
household, of the father who bequeathed his
roud, quick temper without his strong con-
oiling will, of the mother from whom Robert
inherited his bright eyes and love of song, of
the precocious boys, the gravity of the future
poet, and the gaiety of the douce farmer, of the
arly love of books, and the integrity common
to them all, are our only reliable records of the
life at Alloway, unless we refer to this period
the " warlock and spunkie " stones of the old
woman, germs of the fancies that afterwards
conjured up an eerie "something" on the Tar-
2O Robert Burns
bolton road, and set the ruined kirk " ableeze "
with the most wonderful witch dance in litera-
ture.
II. Second Period, Mount Oliphant> 1766
1777. (At. 7-iS.J
The happiest days of William Burness went
by in the clay cottage. Henceforth, as before,
he wrought hard, and practised, as he preached,
economy, temperance, and perseverance, but
the winds and tides of adversity were ruthless,
and he played a losing game. Desirous of cul-
tivating land on his own account, he obtained a
lease of Mount Oliphant in 1765, and entered
on residence in the following year. The sad
story of the bad farm, " with the poorest soil
under cultivation," writes Gilbert in 1800, of
the scanty crops, the inclement seasons, the
death of the kind landlord, and the insolent
letters of the tyrannic factor, has been often
told, best of all by Burns himself, whose
character was, during these twelve years, largely
formed under influences partly favourable, partly
the reverse. At home the children continued to
be trained up " in decency and order " by their
A Summary of his Career and Genius 21
father, who, with two exceptions Robert's fort-
nightly study of French under Murdoch at Ayr,
and some lessons in penmanship at Dalrymple
took upon himself the whole duty of their
education. This was conducted by candlelight
in the evenings when they had returned from
their labour in the fields, special attention being
paid to arithmetic as a secular, and exposition
of the Scriptures as a religious basis. To these
lessons was added the stimulating effect of the
"good talk" in leisure hours with the few clever
people of the neighbourhood Mrs Burns,
though much occupied with household matters,
listening appreciatively and the reading aloud
of some play of Shakespeare or other classic.
Books were William Burness' only luxury ; he
never ranked a love of them among the artificial
wants he strove to discourage, and his well-
chosen stock, acquired by the scant savings of
the family or placed at their disposal by the
kindness of friends, was at starting the poet's
greatest advantage. His earliest favourites
were the " Vision of Mirza " and one of
Addison's Hymns. Then followed the life of
Hannibal, lent by Murdoch, and the history of
Sir William Wallace, borrowed from a village
22 Robert Burns
blacksmith. The first sent the boy strutting
up and down the room in an excess of martial
enthusiasm that was far from being one of the
man's prevailing moods, breaking out genuinely
in only three of his later songs. The second,
doubtless the popular chap-book based on
Blind Harry, poured into his veins the " Scotch
prejudice " to which he owes so much of his
hold over the somewhat self-sufficient race
of which he is at once the censor and the
trumpeter. Burns was born as Scott was
born, before the age of the shrivelling
criticism " the spirit that says ' No ' " that
has robbed us of Coriolanus and Tell, and
damped half the fires of national fervour.
" The greatest of the Plantagenets " was to him
a bogie tyrant ; the firer of the Barns of Ayr, a
model of martyred chivalry; and in singleness
of heart he chose a fine Sunday to worship in
the Leglen Wood, visiting the fabled haunts of
his " heroic countryman with as much devout
enthusiasm as ever pilgrim did the shrine of
Loretto." Among other volumes, borrowed or
bought, on the shelves of Loan House were,
besides good manuals and grammars of English
and French (in which language he displayed
A Summary of his Career and Genius 23
remarkable proficiency), Mason's Extracts, a
collection of songs, Stackhouse's History of the
Bible, from which Burns picked up a fair
amount of ancient history, a set of Queen Anne
letters, on the study of which he began to write
his own carefully and to keep copies of them,
the Spectator, Pope's Homer and afterwards
his other works, some of the novels of Richard-
son and Smollett, Allan Ramsay, Hervey's
" Meditations," with some plays of Shakespeare
and essays of Locke. To these were added
at Lochlea, Shenstone, Thomson, Fergusson,
Mackenzie's " Man of Feeling," " Tristram
Shandy," which he devoured at meals, spoon
in hand, with the Mirror, Lounger, &c., and
later Macpherson's " Ossian " and Milton. A
good library for a farm-house even now, and, if
scant for an author, Burns had mastered it.
He drew blood from everything he read ; e.g.,
the style of some of his letters is affected by
Sterne to a degree never enough remarked,
that of others equally by the English essayists.
Above all, he was saturated with the Bible and
the Book of Songs, carrying them with him for
spare moments in the fields, and lingering over
them in his cold little room by night ; " care-
24 Robert Burns
fully noting the true, tender, sublime, or
fustian," and so learning to be a critic, while
stirred by emulation to become himself a lyrist.
His first verses were inspired by a calf-love
innocent prelude to many of various hues for
" Handsome Nell," his partner in the labours of
the harvest during his fifteenth autumn, the
tones of whose voice made his " heart-strings
thrill like an ^Eolian harp." Save the song, " I
dreamed I lay where flowers were springing," he
wrote nothing more of consequence till six, and
little till ten years later. His circumstances
were fatal to precocious authorship. The father
and sons were fighting bravely through their
eleven lean years of struggle, ending in defeat ;
and were, with both physical and moral bad
results, overwrought. Work on land, in the
open air, is in itself more favourable to mental
activity than the routine drudgery of a teacher
or literary hack ; but the labour to which the
young Burnses were inevitably subjected was
both excessive and premature. The poet was
always a good and dexterous workman, " at the
plough, scythe, or reap-hook he feared no com-
petitor : " in the later days at Ellisland we have
testimony to his being able at a push to " heave
A Summary of his Career and Genius 25
a heavier stone " than any of his " hands." But
these early efforts were drawing on his capital
and exhausting his fund of strength. At the
age of thirteen he threshed the corn :
" The thresher's weary flingin'-tree
The lee-lang day had tired me."
The Vision, 1. 7.
At fifteen he was the principal labourer. The
family kept no servant, and for several years
butcher-meat was unknown in the house. Un-
ceasing toil brought Burns to his sixteenth year.
His robust frame overtasked, his patience was
overtried ; despite bursts of buoyancy and the
vague ambition which he pathetically compares
to the groping of the blind Cyclops, his temper
was often exasperated. His shoulders were
bowed, and his nervous system received a fatal
strain ; hence long, dull headaches, palpitations
and sullen fits of hypochondria, with lurid lights
from " the passionate heart," darting at inter-
vals through the cloud. " MeAciyxoAf/co* ct ei/
<r<poSpa opcget." Prosperity has its temptations,
but they are nothing to those of the poetic
temperament goaded by pain within, and chilled
by apathy without. From toils which he asso-
ciates with those of a galley slave, and the
26 Robert Burns
internal fire craving for sympathy in a freer
atmosphere than even that of his home, there
sprung the spirit of revolt which soon made
headway, and passed not only the bars of
formalism, but the limits of rational self-
restraint.
At this period, despite an awkward shyness
and a morbid dread of ridicule, the poet's social
disposition " the hypochondriac taint " he calls
it, that made him fly solitude had led him to
form acquaintance with companions in or near
Ayr, some of whom had superior advantages,
contemplated not without envy. " They did
not know," he bitterly remarks, " enough of
the world to insult the clouterly appearance
of his plough-boy carcase." Two years after
he had committed his first " sin of rhyme,"
Burns, if we accept his own chronology, spent
the summer months at Kirkoswald, studying
mensuration. Here he came in contact with
some of the riotous scenes of that smuggling
coast, took part in them, found himself " no
enemy to social life," and learned " to look
unconcernedly on a large tavern bill." Here
also, when " the sun entered Virgo " (i.e., in
August) he encountered a premonition of his
A Summary of his Career and Genius 27
master spell in " a charming fillette," who,
living next door to the school, set him " off
at a tangent " from his trigonometry. Nothing
came of the affair at the time, but several years
later (1783) Burns renewed his acquaintance
with the girl (Peggy Thomson), and from a
rough former draft rewrote in her honour,
" Now westlin' winds," etc. Following the
same authority (his own) as to date, we must
assign to the early winter of the same year an
event by which the serenity of the domestic
life one phase of which is represented in the
" Cottar's Saturday Night," the other in the
" Twa Dogs " was interrupted. This event
was the poet's persistence, directly against his
father's will, in attending a country dancing-
school. The motive he assigns, a desire to
give his manners a *' brush," seems innocent
enough ; but the action was typical of his
rebellion against the straiter rules of the Scotch
moral creed, and is therefore of more import-
ance than at first appears.
It is admitted that, in reaction from the
levities of later Romanism, the reformed re-
ligion in the north was at first stamped with
an excessive austerity, and that, in after days,
28 Robert Burns
the long fight of Presbyterian Calvinism with
the Episcopalian Hierarchy helped to per-
petuate the spirit in which Knox himself,
though by no means so fanatical as many of
his followers, regarded a ball at Holyrood as
" the dance of the seven deadly sins." The
overstrained moral code of the Puritans, laughed
out by the Restoration, discarded as visionary
by the common sense of the Revolution in
England, survived in Scotland in connection
with the penances of the Kirk, so familiar to
the reader of Burns, and still lingers in police
regulations more socially inquisitorial than
those of any other civilized country. The
attempt to " deal with " every form of human
frailty as a legal offence may be laudable in
design ; in practice it is apt to generate hypoc-
risy, deceit, and even crime, as a means of
escape from exposure. But the stricter party
of the Scotch Kirk, during the eighteenth
century, not content with publicly branding
the sins, set its face against the amusements
of the people ; it tried to keep them not only
sober and chaste, but constantly sombre ; to
close the theatres, to shut the barns, fine the
fiddlers, and set their melodies to psalms.
A Summary of his Career and Genius 29
Under the most depressing circumstances,
Nature will have her way. From the gloom
of a stern creed within, of inclement skies
without, the Scotch peasantry sought relief in
vocal music, cultivated the more eagerly that
instrumental was banished from the kirks, in
whisky, and in dancing. The Reformation for
two centuries in our country stifled the other
arts, but not that of Rizzio. Music triumphed
over the spirit of the creed of Calvin, as it is
now encroaching on the precepts of Penn.
The fire in the heart of the Scotch peasantry,
unextinguished by all the dry ashes of the
Catechism, found vent in love songs many of
those current before the coming of their great
minstrel, of worse than doubtful taste in which
they are tenfold more prolific than the gayer
French; in rural assignations, where passion
too often set at nought the terrors of the cutty-
stool, and in the village " splore," for which
the dancing-school was a preparation. " This
is," says Dr Currie, in his liveliest passage,
worth quoting as a comment on many of
our author's poems, " usually a barn in winter,
and the arena for the performers a clay
floor. The dome is lighted by candles stuck
30 Robert Burns
in one end of a cloven stick, the other
being thrust into the wall. Young men and
women will walk many miles to these country
schools, and the instant the violin sounds,
fatigue seems to vanish, the toil-worn rustic
becomes erect, his features brighten with sym-
pathy, every nerve seems to thrill with sensa-
tion, and every artery to vibrate with life."
Such was the scene from which William Bur-
ness wished to keep back the poet, and from
which the poet would not be kept back. It is
a wise thing to multiply innocent pleasures, the
worst policy to restrict them. Unfortunately
in seeking an innocent pleasure, Burns was
made guilty of a disobedience, and resented
it by a defiance inevitable to his nature. In
taking his first step to be the interpreter of a
nation, he had to cease to be a dutiful son.
He broke the bonds that would not stretch, and
soon revelled in his freedom as a wild colt in a
meadow. From this crisis, he began to find
himself ; his virgin bashfulness was too rapidly
" brushed " away ; his native eloquence gushed
forth like a liberated stream ; in every society
he found himself the light of conversation and
the leader of debate ; and in his hours of leisure
A Summary of his Career and Genius 3 1
beyond the walls of his home, whether by a
dyke-side or in an inn parlour, was surrounded
by admiring or astonished groups who confided
to him their affairs of the heart, and obtained
his assistance in their wooing. At this period,
ere reaching "green eighteen," he himself began
to manifest a precocious "penchant a I'adorable
moitit du genre humain " " My heart was com-
pletely tinder, and was eternally lighted up by
some goddess or other." According to Gilbert,
Robert "idealized his women perpetually : " but
he was as fickle as Sterne, and through life
found it easier to adore a new mistress than to
put on a new coat : a versatility often charac-
teristic of the poetic temperament.
III.- Third Period, Lochlea, 17771784.
. 18-25.)
William Burness attempted to leave Mount
Oliphant at the end of a six years lease, i.e.,
after a residence of five and a-half years, 1771 ;
but, failing, remained five and a-half years
longer, at the expiration of which he con-
trived to reserve means and credit to secure
the tenancy of Lochlea, whither the family re-
32 Robert Burns
moved on Whitsunday 1777, and where, for the
first three years of their occupancy, they seem
to have fairly thriven. Of this space of time
there is little record : to its close belong the
poet's letters to Ellison Begbie a young
woman, understood to be the Mary Morrison
of his song, to whom he paid his addresses with
a view to marriage, but who, after seriously
entertaining them, to his grave discomfiture
rejected his suit. In 1780 the brothers estab-
lished a Bachelors' Club, in which a variety of
social subjects were discussed, though under
some restrictions, with sufficient freedom and
zest to stimulate the ingenuity and sharpen the
wits of the members. It appears that Robert,
always ambitious of shining, prepared himself
beforehand for the debates. The next year of
his life was in more than one respect disastrous.
Having been in the habit of raising flax on a
portion of his father's ground, it occurred to
him to go to Irvine to learn to dress it. For
some time he attacked his new trade with heart
and hope, and, if we may judge by the letter to
his father of Dec. 1781, lived a strictly frugal
and abstinent life : but as they were giving a
welcome carousal to the New- Year (1782), the
!
A Summary of his Career and Genius 33
shop, in which he had combined with one of his
mother's relations, took fire, and Burns was left
" like a true poet, without a sixpence." Smart-
ing under this loss, feeling himself jilted at once
by Ellison and by fortune, he went through the
usual despairs, and resorted to the too common
consolations. Meeting with others of the class
of seafaring men he had encountered at Kirk-
oswald, his eloquence, raised to a feverish heat,
shed a lustre over their wild thoughts and ways.
By one of those, a Mr Richard Brown, whose
romantic adventures captivated his fancy, he
was now for the first time by how many not
the last were hard to tell led to " bound across
the strid " of what is technically called virtue.
We have here no space, had we inclination, to
pry into the details of the story, nor the con-
tinual repetitions of it, which marked and
marred his career. Home again with a
roubled conscience, and a love for company
nworthy of him, he found in the Masonic
Lodge at Tarbolton an institution unhappily
well-suited to his weakness for being first in
ery circle. In the festivals of that guild he
uld defy competition : the brethren, justly
roud of their new deputy-master, joined with a
34 Robert Burns
right good will in the ballad of John Barleycorn,
and shouted till " the kebars sheuk " over the
chorus of " The Big-bellied Bottle." Neverthe-
less these years were not barren. Before going
to Irvine, Burns had written u On Cessnock
Banks " and " My Nannie O " : he brought
back from it his early religious pieces, and the
volume of Fergusson which first fired him with
the definite ambition of being himself a poet.
Between 1781-83 were written the "Lament
for Mailie," " Winter : a Dirge," " Remorse,"
and others in similar strain ; also a number of
songs, the best known being " The Rigs of
Barley " and " Green grow the rashes." These
were addressed to various objects ; some former
flames, as Kirkoswald Peggy, again flit across
the horizon, others may have been imaginary.
One might as well undertake to trace all the
originals of Horace's or Herrick's fancy as those
of Burns', for, when he became famous, even
married women contended to have sat to him
for their portraits. The passion in these songs
is more lively than intense ; their charm is in
the field breeze that blows through them as
freshly as in the days of Chaucer. A love for
the lower forms of social life was the poet's be-
A Summary of his Career and Genius 35
setting sin, Nature his healing power. He was
fortunate in being placed amid the scenes best
suited to nourish a genius which fed on the
meadows and glades round the bends of the
Ayr, as a bee feeds on flowers, and had no
affinity to mountain tops on the one hand, or
to cities on the other. Living in full face of
the Arran hills, he never names them. He
takes refuge from the ridges of Ben Goil and
Ben Gnuiss among the woods of Ballochmyle,
and in the spirit which inspired his " Mouse "
and his " Daisy," turns out of his path, fearing
to "disturb the little songsters of the grove."
Similarly Chaucer, who travelled in Italy, names
neither Alp nor Apennine. Each found his
" cheer in the brightness utterly of the glad
sun." The gloom of Burns was not by lonely
trn or " steep frowning summit," but in the
mow-drift that starves the cattle on the low-
ind moor, and the winter wind that is like
lan's ingratitude. A country life saved him
far as he was saved ; two seasons of a city
tade it stale to him, and he perished in a
:ounty town. With the sweetness of the fields
came the benign influences of Coila, to which
thus refers : " My passions, when once
36 Robert Burns
lighted up, raged like so many devils, till they
got vent in rhyme, and then the conning over
my verses, like a spell, soothed all into quiet."
Here the master-lyrist of the last century antici-
pates the great mosaic-worker of the present
" But for the unquiet heart and brain
A use in measured language lies,
The sad mechanic exercise,'
Like dull narcotics numbing pain."
In 1783 the poet, beginning to realise the chances
of his fame, commenced his first Common-Place
Book, " Observations, hints, songs, scraps of
poetry, &c." it concludes October 1785, with
a warning against his own errors (set. 24-26).
The second, begun April 9, 1787, ends August
1790 (aet. 28-31). They are both of consider-
able biographical and literary interest.
Meanwhile at the farm affairs were kept going
only by strict economy and hard labour, and
when a dispute about the terms of the lease
resulted in an adverse decision it broke the old
man's heart. He died (Feb. 13, 1784, t. 63)
full of sorrows and apprehensions for the gifted
son, who wrote for his tomb in Alloway the
famous epitaph, and afterwards applied to him
the lines of Beattie
A Summary of his Career and Genius 37
" Is it for this fair virtue oft must strive
With disappointment, penury, and pain ? "
Robert and Gilbert lingered at Lochlea for some
time longer, but when the crash came, they were
only able, by claiming arrears of wages on their
father's estate, to rescue enough to start in joint-
tenancy at Mossgiel, about a mile from Mauch-
line, whither about Whitsunday they migrated
with their mother and the rest of the family.
IV. Fourth Period, Mossgiel, 17841788.
(At. 25-29.)
The brothers entered on their new lease
with brave hearts ; Robert, in a resolute mood,
calculating crops, attending markets, and de-
termined, " in spite of the world, the flesh, and
the devil, to be a wise man ; " but the results
of bad seed the first year, and a late harvest
the second, " overset " his " wisdom." The
family seemed to flit from one mound in Ayr-
shire to another : their new abode also lay
high, and the snow during four severe winters
was deep on its cold wet clay : consequently
the outcome was so scanty that they had to
give up part of their bargain, and surrender
38 Robert Burns
some of their stock ; but they had a kind land-
lord, to whom they were probably indebted for
their ability to struggle on, and abandon the
idea of another migration. No one has moral-
ised better on " the uses of adversity " than
Burns ; few so finely as when he says that
misfortunes " let us ken oursel' " : yet none
more prone when the pinch came, to blame
his evil star, and to seek shelter from the
world's censure and his own under " over-
whelming circumstances." We have, however,
the direct testimony of Gilbert to his stead-
fastness in one important respect " His tem-
perance and frugality were everything that
could be desired." The effect of prevalent
misconception on this point is visible, even in
Mr Carlyle's, in many respects, incomparable
essay. The poet had at Kirkoswald and Irvine
learned to drink, and he was all his life liable
to social excesses, but it is unfair to say that
" his character for sobriety was destroyed."
Most of his best work was done at Mossgiel,
and inspired by the country around, or in Mauch-
line itself. This, the most suggestive of his
haunts, has suffered less than most places from
railway, or pit, or mine, or the importunity of
A Summary of his Career and Genius 39
professional showmen. A new road has been
made through the quiet village and a new steeple
set in the midst of it, without doing much to mar
its homeliness. The Poet, whose renown beyond
the Atlantic brought hither Nathaniel Haw-
thorne, still haunts the streets. Our eyes may
yet rest upon the Priory, and on the Corse, where
he found the girl, who was his fate, hanging up
clothes to dry. We have access to the crib in
the Back Causeway to which he brought her
home, and to the alehouse of Nanse Tinnock.
Whence, through the churchyard, by the graves
of the twins and the Armours, of Daddy Auld
and his " black bonnet," William Fisher, of
the good Gavin and the sister of the ill-fated
Peggy Kennedy of Daljarrock, between the
site of Moodie's tent and the lunching booths
of the Holy Fair, we come to that of Johnny
Dow's " Arms," with its " roaring trade," and
the windows from which the lovers beckoned
across the lane. We pass on the other side
to Poosie Nansie's howff, where " the vera girdle
rang " with the wildest of vagrant revels, on
which we can almost see Burns interloping
with his cronies Richmond and Smith, or
"setting up" the Cowgate with "Common-
4O Robert Burns
sense " Mackenzie, or loitering along the main
with Lapraik and Kennedy. We picture him
taking the east road and coming over " the
drucken steps " to the racecourse, where (in
April 1784 or '85) he first met "the jewel" of
the " six proper young belles " ; and so back
by the upland fields to watch the gloamin'
growing grey over the Galston moors ; or the
south road to Catrine, where he was enter-
tained and recognised by Dugald Stewart ; or
another to the Whitefoords at Ballochmyle ;
or another to Coilsfield, " the Castle o' Mont-
gomerie," whose banks and braes yet blossom
with his name, to call on his early patron,
afterwards the Earl, Sir Hugh. Lastly, we
loiter down the Faile till it trickles into the
Ayr, by a grove more poetically hallowed than
the fountain of Vaucluse or Julie's bosque.
There is no spot in Scotland so created for a
modern idyl, none leaves us with such an im-
pression of perfect peace as this, where the
river, babbling over a shelf of pebbles to the
left, then hushed through " birch and hawthorn,"
and Narcissus willows, murmuring on, heedless
of the near and noisy world, keeps the memory
green of our minstrel and his Mary.
A Summary of his Career and Genius 41
Burns' life during the years 1784-86 was
mainly concerned with three matters a keen
religious controversy, the intimacy that resulted
in his marriage, the full blaze and swift recog-
nition of his genius.
The poet, brought up like his countrymen
in the Calvinistic theology, was by nature and
circumstance soon led to question and " puzzle"
the tenets of his ancestors. Proud of his
polemic skill, and shining " in conversations
between sermons," he at Irvine, if not before,
was familiarised with " liberal opinions " in
speculation in connection with laxity in life ;
he continued to hold them in better company.
Ayrshire had been, for some time, the head-
quarters of a Theological Conservatism, often
combined with Radical Politics ; but, during
this period, several of the pulpits were occupied
by men affected by the wider views prevailing
in the literary circles of the capital, where
Polite Literature, seldom on close terms with
Fanaticism, was represented by Robertson, and
Blair, and Beattie, and Mackenzie. The clergy-
men of the " New Licht," or Moderate party,
were, compared with their antagonists, men of
" light and leading," learning and manners.
42 Robert Burns
They read more, wrote better, and studied
their fellows from various points of view.
Scholars and gentlemen, personally without
reproach, they believed not only in good works,
but occasionally in good cheer, made allow-
ances for sins of blood, and were inclined to
" gently scan their brother man, still gentler
sister woman." The representatives of the
" Auld Licht " party, on the other hand, were
more potent in the pulpit. M'Kinlay and
Moodie, Black Jock Russell and Peebles,
Father Auld, and Steven "The Calf," never
shot over the heads of the people by refer-
ences to Aristotle's Ethics or Cicero's Offices :
they charmed the mob by the half physical
excitement of vehement words and vulgar
action : knotty points of faith, which their
opponents were apt to slur, they cleared at
once " wi' rattlin' and wi' thumpin'," and when
patrons, like Glencairn, being men of culture,
began in their appointments to be influenced
by the regard of like for like, they raised against
them the cry of " Patronage"
" Come join your counsels and your skills
To cowe the lairds ;"
a cry, so well chosen in a democratic country
A Summary of his Career and Genius 43
that, despite Bacon's " exceptis rebus divinis"
despite Burns's comment
" And get the brutes the power themsels
To choose their herds,"
it has, after a century's fight, with results yet
to be seen, carried the day. Few criticisms on
the poet have done justice to his friends the
Moderates. Liberal conservatives, with exces-
sive " Economy," as is their wont, have passed
the question by. The orators and pamphleteers
of that offshoot of the Church, whose name is
a masterpiece, almost a miracle, of misnomen-
clature, have been left free to rail at large at a
body of men, on the whole, among the best of
their age. Maligned as " mundane," because
they looked on the round world as a place to
live, not merely to die in ; and held to be
" coarse-minded " because they did not become
hysterical, the historian will give them the
credit of helping to keep the country sane.
That these men appreciated, esteemed, and
invited Burns to their houses has of course
been lamented : even the philosopher and guide
of John Sterling says the poet learned " more
than was good for him " at the tables of the
44 Robert Burns
New Licht, but it is unjust to weight them,
on the ground of unauthenticated anecdotes,
with the responsibility of his already formed
opinions. Accomplished Broad-Church clergy-
men may have pointed some of the arrows
in his quiver, but it was the indecorum of his
adversaries and loyalty to his friends that set
them flying. By all accounts his landlord,
Gavin Hamilton, was of the salt of the earth,
upright, genial, " the puir man's friend," himself
in word and deed a gentleman ; but he openly
espoused the liberal cause, and the Rev. Mr
Auld, a person, says Cromek, " of morose
and malicious disposition," having had a feud
with Hamilton's father, sought every occa-
sion of venting his spite on the son, whose
child he refused to christen, for the following
reasons : Hamilton was seen on horseback
and ordered his gardener to dig a few potatoes
(for which the gardener was afterwards ecclesi-
astically dealt with) on the Lord's Day, he was
heard to whistle on a Fast Day, and said "damn
it " before Mr Auld's very face. High social
position, stainless life, and benevolence were as
nothing against the fact that he played at cards,
and on Sundays only went once to church ; the
A Summary of his Career and Genius 45
straiter sect already regarded him with venomous
looks. Robert Aitken, another staunch friend
whose acquaintance Burns made at the Castle,
and to whom he dedicated "The Cotter's Satur-
day Night," on similar grounds, came in for his
share of the same narrow virulence. The poet
watching his opportunity, found it on one of the
frequent occasions when the practice of those
severe censors shamed their precept. Hard cash
is the touch-stone of religious profession, and
two shining Auld Licht divines, being at vari-
ance as to their parochial bounds, abused each
other, in open court, with more than average
theological indecency.
" Sic twa O do I live to see't
Sic famous twa should disagreet,
An' names like villain, hypocrite,
Ilk ither gi'en,
While new-light herds with laughin' spite
Say neither's lee'in."
In this wise, Burns struck from the shoulder,
and seizing on Pope's lacerating lines
" Blockheads with reason wicked wits abhor,
But fool with fool is barbarous civil war,"
launched at the Pharisees his " Twa Herds, or
Holy Tulzie." By this piece, towards the close
46 Robert Burns
of 1784, his reputation as a satirist, next to that
of a lyrist his title deed to fame, was made at a
stroke. No wonder the liberals, whose weak-
ness lay in lack of demagogic art, clapped their
hands and drank their claret, with added relish
" upon that day ! " Here was a man of the
people, speaking for the people, and making
the people hear him, fighting their battle in a
manner hitherto unknown among their ranks.
The first shot fired, the guns of the battery
rattled and rang, volley on volley. " Holy
Willie's Prayer," with the Epistles to Goudie,
Simpson, and M'Math, "The Holy Fair," be-
sides " The Jolly Beggars " and the " Address
to the Deil," inspired in part at least by the
same spirit, were written in 1785. To the next
year belong " The Ordination," the " Address to
the Unco Guid," " The Calf," and the " Dedica-
tion to Hamilton," a sheaf which some of the
admirers of the poet's softer mood would fain
pluck out of his volume and cast like tares into
the oven. They fail to perceive that, for good
or ill, they represent as essential a phase of his
genius as the lighter characters of the Canter-
bury Tales do that of Chaucer. Burns' religious
satires are an inalienable part of his work ;
A Summary of his Career and Genius 47
though, for some years after his Edinburgh
success, the fire which prompted them smoul-
dered, it sends out continual sparks in his
letters, and three years later, on the prosecution
of his friend M'Gill, it blazed into the fierce
blast of " The Kirk's Alarm."
" Orthodox, orthodox, wha believe in John Knox,
Let me sound an alarm to your conscience ;
There's a heretic blast has been blavvn in the West,
That what is no sense, must be nonsense."
A keen adversary and unscrupulous contro-
versialist admits that these lines, once sent
abroad, cannot be suppressed by Bowdlerism.
" Leviathan is not so tamed." No, nor can
Michael's flaming sword be so blunted. It is
hard to say what the writer might not have
done for religious liberty in Scotland, had not
the weight of his judgment been lessened, as
the cogency of Milton's views on Divorce, by
the fact that he was, in part at least, fighting
for his own hand. Speculative opinion has less
to do with some aspects of morality than is
generally supposed ; but it was unfortunate for
the poet that when the Kirk-Session of Mauch-
line met to look over their artillery they found,
48 Robert Burns
by his own confession, a weak point in his
armour.
No biography of Burns can be complete that
does not discuss with some detail the delicate
matters connected with his relation to the other
sex ; but, in the slight survey to which we are
confined, it must be enough to glance at the
main facts and draw an inference. Philo-
sophical moralists have, with considerable force,
asserted that the root of all evil is selfishness ;
but in practice this takes two directions so dis-
tinct that they mark two distinct types of evil,
the one exhibited in various forms of dishonesty,
hypocrisy, meanness, or fraud ; the other in in-
continence of speech, of diet, or in relations of
sex. In the worst type, e.g., that of Richard-
son's Lovelace, that of the deliberate seducer
and deserter, they are combined. The chaste
commercial rogue, who gives tithes of his
plunder, is, as a rule, too tenderly dealt with by
the Church ; the man unfairly not the woman
who yields to every gust, is perhaps too
tenderly dealt with by the World. Burns, it must
be admitted, was in this respect emphatically
" passion's slave," and yet a nation ostentatiously
proud of its morality wears him in its " heart
A Summary of his Career and Genius 49
of hearts." He was more reckless in his loves
than Lord Byron ; but he was never treacherous,
like King David, and, in contrast with the arch-
sentimentalist Rousseau, he never sought to
shirk the consequences of his misdeeds. When
accordingly, in November 1784, his " Dear
bought Bess," the result of a liaison during the
last days of Lochlea, made her appearance, she
was hailed in " The Welcome " with a sincere
affection, brought up in the family and shared
their fortunes. This event brought Burns within
the range of ecclesiastical censure, which, con-
sidering that it was an established custom, not
to be waived out of respect even for the person
of a poet, he too keenly resented. Shortly before
or after, he was implicated in another affair with
a more serious result. It is dogmatism to pre-
tend certainty as to the date of his first meeting
with his Jean, depending as it does on the original
presence or interpolation of a stanza in the
Epistle to Davie ; but only in the last month
of 1785 must their intimacy have culminated.
Mr Armour, a well-to-do master mason, and
strict "Auld Licht," who hated freedom of
thought and speech when combined with poverty,
from the first set himself against the courtship
5<3 Robert Burns
as a prelude to an undesirable alliance. Burns
was accordingly driven to contract a clandestine
marriage by acknowledging the girl in writing
as his wife ; a form still valid. When, how-
ever, their relation was discovered, the incensed
parents, with a disregard of her honour which
forfeits their claim to our respect, persuaded her
to destroy her " lines " and repudiate her bargain.
By this step, assigned to April 13, 1786, and
the transgressor's second appearance, July 9, on
the bad eminence of the stool of repentance,
with a view to obtain a certificate of bachelor-
ship, both parties mistakenly as lawyers now
maintain seem to have thought that the irregu-
lar alliance was annulled. The poet gave vent
to his outraged feelings in " The Lament " and
the last stanza of " The Daisy," and rinding
himself out of friends and favour, holding that
" hungry ruin had him in the wind," gave up
his share of the farm, resolved to seek refuge in
exile, and accepted a situation as bookkeeper to
an estate in Jamaica. The Armours' rejecting
his overtures of reconciliation and threatening
him with legal proceedings put spurs to his
intent ; he hurried on the publication of his
poems, and with the proceeds bought a steer-
A Summary of his Career and Genius 5 1
age passage in a ship to sail from Greenock on
the 1st September.
Burns expected a wife to go with him or to
follow him ; but it was not Jean. Nothing in
his career is so startling as the interlineation of
his loves ; they played about him like fire-flies ;
he seldom remembered to be off with the old
before he was on with the new. Allured by
two kinds of attraction, those which were mainly
sensual seem scarcely to have interfered with
others of a higher strain. It is now undoubted
that his white rose grew up and bloomed in the
midst of his passion-flowers. Of his attachment
to Mary Campbell, daughter of a Campbelton
sailor, and sometime nurse to the infant son of
Gavin Hamilton, he was always chary of speech.
There is little record of their intimacy previous
to their betrothal on the second Sunday, the
I4th of May 1786, when, standing one on either
bank of the Faille, they dipped their hands in
the brook, and holding between them a Bible,
on the two volumes of which half-obliterated
inscriptions still remain, they swore everlast-
ing fidelity. Shortly after she returned to her
native town, where " Will you go to the Indies,
my Mary ? " and other songs were sent to her.
52 Robert Burns
Having bespoken a place in Glasgow for Martin-
mas, she went in the autumn to Greenock to
attend a sick brother, and caught from him a
fever which proved fatal at some date before
October 12, when her lair was bought in the
West Kirkyard, now, on her account, the resort
of pilgrims. Mrs Begg's story of Burns re-
ceiving the news of her death has been called
in question ; but how deep the buried love lay
in his heart is known to every reader of his
verse. After flowing on in stillness for three
years, it broke forth as the inspiration of the
most pathetic of his songs
" Thou lingering star with lessening ray,"
composed in the course of a windy October
night, when musing and watching the skies
about the corn-ricks at Ellisland. Three years
later, it may have been about the same harvest
time, even on the same anniversary, the reced-
ing past, with a throng of images, sad and
sweet, again swept over him, and bodied itself
forth in the immortal lyric
" Ye banks and braes and streams around the Castle
o' Montgomery,"
which is the last we hear of Highland Mary.
A Summary of his Career and Genius 53
Meanwhile Burns had arrived at the full con-
sciousness of being a poet, and, though speaking
with almost unbecoming modesty of his rank,
in comparison with Ramsay and Fergusson,
had, by his own statement, as high an opinion
of his work as he ever entertained. His fertility
during the years 1785-86, more especially in the
period between November 1785 and April 1786,
has rarely been equalled. Among the pieces
conceived behind the plough, and transcribed
before he went to sleep in his garret over the
" but and ben " of the farm-house, in addition to
his anti-calvinistic satires and " Dr Hornbook "
(of more local interest), were " The Tvva Dogs,"
"The Author's Prayer," " The Vision," and
" The Dream," " Halloween," " The Farmer's
Address to his Mare," " The Cotter's Saturday
Night," the two Epistles to Davie and three to
Lapraik, the lines to a Mouse and to a Daisy,
" Scotch Drink," " Man was made to mourn,"
and " The Jolly Beggars." These, with the
exception of the last, along with some of his
most popular songs, were included in his first
volume. Preparations for publishing it at Kil-
marnock began in April ; it appeared on July
3 ist under the auspices of Hamilton, Aitken,
54 Robert Burns
and other of his friends. The result was an
almost instant success, if not a thorough ap-
preciation. Of an edition of 600, at the end
of the month only 41 copies remained unsold.
This epitome of a genius, so pronounced and
so varied, expressing itself so tersely and yet
so clearly for there was not a word in the
volume that any Scotch peasant who could
read could fail to understand took its audi-
ence by storm, and set all the shores of the
West in a murmur of acclaim. It only brought
to the author ^"20 direct return, but it intro-
duced him to the literary world. Mrs Dunlop
of Dunlop began with him the correspondence
which testifies to a nine years' friendship.
Dugald Stewart invited him to his house at
Catrine, where he met Lord Daer, and found
his first experience of the aristocracy a very
pleasant one. Somewhat later Henry Mackenzie
gave him a favourable review in the Lounger,
extracts from which were copied into the Lon-
don papers. Of Stewart, Burns speaks at all
times with affectionate respect ; the philosopher
bears as emphatic testimony to the favourable
impression made by the first appearance of the
poet, and to the high qualities of mind which
A Summary of Jiis Career and Genius 55
he exhibited in their frequent walks together
about the Braid Hills in the subsequent spring
to the independence of his manners, a con-
sciousness of worth devoid of vanity, and the
fluency, precision, and originality of his speech.
" He had a very strong sense of religion, and
expressed deep regret at the levity with which
he had heard it treated in some convivial
meetings." " All the faculties of his mind
were equally vigorous." " From his conversa-
tion I should have pronounced him fitted to
excel in whatever walk of ambition he had
chosen to exert his abilities. He was fond of
remarking on character, shrewd, and often sar-
castic, but extravagant in praise of those he
loved. Dr Robertson thought his prose, con-
sidering his education, more remarkable than
his verse.
From August till the middle of November,
during which time he had written " The Brigs
of Ayr," " The Lass of Ballochmyle," " Tarn
Samson's Elegy," and other minor pieces, pre-
parations for the poet's departure were pro-
ceeding. On the 26th of September he writes
to his Montrose cousin that it will not take
place till after harvest ; but, a month later,
56 Robert Burns
he is still bent on the Indies. Coming back
over Galston Moor from a visit to that excellent
Moderate, his friend, Dr Laurie of Loudon, he
wrote " The gloomy night is gath'ring fast,"
ending " Farewell, the bonie banks of Ayr."
In the interval, incited by Mr Hamilton to
venture on a second edition, he was discouraged
by the timidity of the Kilmarnock printer ; but
an enthusiastic letter, transmitted by Laurie,
from the blind poet, Dr Blacklock, and the
prospect of the support of the Earl of Glen-
cairn, induced him to stay his steps and try his
fortune in the Scotch metropolis. He who
had sung " Freedom and whisky gang together,"
was not to be an overseer of slaves, but an
exciseman. He left Mauchline on a pony on
the 27th, and reached Edinburgh on the 28th
November, with passports that promised him a
fair start, in the " pastures new," on which he
now, in his twenty-eighth year, broke ground.
V. Fifth Period, Edinburgh, Nov. 1786
May 1788. (ALt. 27-29.)
In the northern capital of these days there
was more of Auld Reekie, less of Modern
A Summary of his Career and Genius 57
Athens ; the iron-road had not displaced the
Nor-Loch, the main thoroughfare ran down
from the Castle to Holyrood, and the banks
of the valley were undisfigured by domineering
hotels or the College towers which have roused
Mr Ruskin's wrath. The first sight of a city,
moreover, is as attractive to a countryman, as
the first glimpse of the sea to an inlander. We
can easily imagine that the poet, affected alike
by the picturesque grandeur of the place and its
historical associations, spent the first days after
his arrival in wandering about the quaint old
streets, looking into shop windows, rambling
up Arthur Seat, and gazing over the Frith on
the Lomonds. We can fancy him taking ofif
his hat at the threshold of Allan Ramsay's
barber shop, or seeking out the " narrow house "
of Fergusson, in Canongate Kirk, and kneeling
to kiss the sod on which he, at his own expense,
erected the memorial to his neglected pre-
decessor. But if he kept apart for a time
from society, it was from choice, not necessity ;
armed with introductions to Dr Blacklock and
the Earl of Glencairn, the favour of Mr Stewart,
and that of his amiable critic, Mr Mackenzie,
secured, and the literary world of the place on
58 Robert Burns
tip-toe to see him, he soon became acquainted
with Drs Blair and Gregory, the Tytlers of
Woodhouselee, father and son, Henry Erskine,
Lord Monboddo (who had vaguely guessed
what Mr Darwin is generally held to have
proved), and his daughter, the fair theme of
several of his minor verses. In short, before
a week was over, he found himself, in his
own words, suddenly " translated from the
veriest shades of life " to the centre of the
most distinguished circles. He was by the
scholars of that brilliant time, by the bench
and the bar, by fashion and by beauty, wel-
comed, courted, feasted, and admired. " The
town," wrote Mrs Cockburn towards the close
of the year, " is at present all agog with the
ploughman poet. . . . He has seen Duchess
Gordon and all the gay world. His favourite
for looks and manners is Bess Burnett, no bad
judge indeed." It has been suggested that the
sudden change of life must have been pre-
judicial to his health ; but no man was ever
less spoiled by adulation.
When Burns first saw the mental and social
aristocracy of the land, and they saw him,
they met on equal terms. " In the whole
strain of his bearing," we are told, " he mani-
A Summary of his Career and Genius 59
Tested his belief that in the society of the most
eminent men of his nation he was exactly where
he was entitled to be; hardly deigning to flatter
them by exhibiting a symptom of being flattered."
" I never saw a man," says Scott, " in company
with his superiors in station or information more
perfectly free from either the reality or the affecta-
tion of embarrassment. His address to females
was extremely deferential, with a turn either
to the pathetic or the humorous, which engaged
their attention particularly. . . . He was much
caressed in Edinburgh, but the efforts made for
his relief were extremely trifling." With all his
essential modesty, the poet must have felt a
glow of triumph at the impression made by his
matchless conversational power; according to
Lockhart, who had the reports of auditors,
" the most remarkable thing about him." The
Duchess of Gordon said he was the only man
who ever " carried her off her feet " ; Ramsay of
Ochtertyre, " I have been in the company of
many men of genius, but never witnessed such
flashes of intellectual brightness as from him,
the impulse of the moment, sparks of celestial
fire ; " and the brilliant Maria Riddell, the best
friend of his later days, "I hesitate not to affirm
and in vindication of my opinion I appeal to
60 Robert Burns
all who had the advantage of personal acquaint-
ance with him that poetry was actually not
his forte . . . none have ever outshone Burns
in the charm the sorcery, I would almost call
it of fascinating conversation. . . . The rapid
lightnings of his eye were always the harbingers
of some flash of genius. . . . His voice alone
could improve upon the magic of his eye." The
poet went home from assemblages of learning,
wit, and grace, where he had been posing pro-
fessors, arguing down lawyers, and turning the
heads of reigning beauties, to share with his
friend Richmond, then a writer's apprentice, a
crib in Baxter's Close, Lawnmarket, for which
they paid together three shillings a week. Not
un frequently he dropped in by the way upon
gatherings of another sort, knots of boon com-
panions met where the wine went faster and the
humour was more akin to that of the Tarbolton
Lodge. For the chief of these free-thoughted
and loose-worded clubs, nicknamed that of the
Crochallan Fencibles, he afterwards compiled
the collection of unconventional songs * some
* Burns kept this volume under lock and key, and it was
only printed, with doubtful propriety, for limited circulation,
after his death.
A Summary of his Career and Genius 61
amusing, others only rough known as the
" Merry Muses," to which he contributed a few
pieces. Like Chaucer, he owed half his power
to the touch of Bohemianism that demands now
and then a taste of wild life. The English poet
did not meet his Host or Miller among his
fellow ambassadors, and the Scotch bard must
often have left the company of Drs Blair and
Robertson with an irresistible impulse to have
his fling among the Rattlin' Willies of the
capital, whose example possibly led him to
form other connections of a kind to be re-
gretted. But it is hard to see how this could
have been prevented by any interposition of
his high-class friends, or how, despite Scott's
reproach, they could, at this stage, have done
anything for the pecuniary relief of a man at
once so wayward and so proud. They did him
substantial service in facilitating the publication
of his poems, and taking measures to ensure
their success. Lord Glencairn introduced him
to the publisher Creech, and got the members
of the Caledonian Hunt to take 100 copies
of the second edition. It appeared, 2ist April
1787, had nearly 3000 subscribers, and ulti-
mately brought the author about 500 ; a sum
62 Robert Burns
which enabled him, besides handing over a
handsome amount, 200, to his brother, to
undertake several excursions, and, when the
time came, to stock a new farm. This volume,
containing most of the pieces in the Kilmarnock
impression, with others, as the " Winter Night "
(the sole important product of December 1786),
was published in the same year, 1787, in London.
In 1793 the two-volume edition appeared. It
was reprinted in 1794, but not again during the
life-time of the poet.
In the spring of 1787, Burns entered into an
agreement to aid the engraver Johnson in his
" Museum," to the six volumes of which the
last published shortly after his death he gave
about i So songs. In September 1792 he was
invited by Mr George Thomson to supply
material for a similar work, the " Melodies of
Scotland." On this undertaking also, he
entered with alacrity, only stipulating that
he should not be required to write in classic
English, and contributed in all about 100 songs,
wholly original, or so recast from older models
as to make them really new.
The leisure of the last nine years of the poet's
life, i.e., from 1787 to 1796, was almost wholly
A Summary of Jiis Career and Genius 63
devoted to these two enterprises ; his other
poetic performances being, with one exception,
insignificant. Nothing was said about money,
and his work was, in the one case entirely, in
the other nearly, gratuitous. On the publi-
cation of his first half volume, Thomson, with a
note of thanks, sent to Burns a shawl for his
wife, a picture by Allan representing the
" Cotter's Saturday Night/' and 5. Such an
acknowledgment of a treasure " above rubies "
has provoked inevitable derision. It has been
pleaded for Thomson that he had then only
received an instalment of a tenth part of the
work, that he was far from affluent, and that he
put the whole of the songs at the disposal of
Dr Currie, when on the poet's death that gentle-
man was about to edit an edition for the benefit
of his family. At all events, Burns indignantly
stopped any similar advance : he only forbears
returning his correspondent's " pecuniary par-
cel " because " it might savour of affectation " ;
if he hears a word more of such " debtor and
creditor traffic " he will "spurn the whole trans-
action " ; his songs are " either below or above
price." Whatever the " motif" of this letter a
point which his inconsistency in money matters
64 Robert Burns
(for he had not hesitated to dun Creech for his
due) and his frequent irony, leave doubtful he
abode by his determination never again to write
for "cold unfeeling ore." In 1795 when requested
by the editor of a high-class London newspaper
to furnish weekly an article for the " poetical
department " at a remuneration of $2 a year,
he refused the offer. It is calculated that, in-
cluding the profits of the reissue of his poems
in 1793, he had up to the date of his death re-
ceived for the literary labour of fifteen years
about 900 ; less than a third of the sum
paid to Moore for "Lalla Rookh," but a hundred
times the outcome to Milton of "Paradise Lost."
Wisely, in any case, Burns was never seduced
by a popularity he feared to be evanescent, to
think of literature as a means of livelihood. He
adopted, by anticipation, the advice of Sir
Walter Scott never more apposite than now
" let your pen be your pastime, your profession
your anchor," and, with the idea of an indepen-
dence at the plough-tail foremost in his mind,
was already negotiating with Mr Patrick Miller
of Dalswinton for a tenancy of a farm on the
banks of the Nith. With a view to explore the
ground, he on May 5th started on the Border
A Summary of his Career and Genius 65
tour, with his friend Ainslie of the Crochallans,
of most of which we have in his journal a
sufficient record. From other sources we learn
that, on his return, he arrived at Mossgiel on
the 8th of June. " O Robbie," his mother is
said to have cried, as she met her son un-
announced at the farm-house door. Enough
has been said sometimes rather rhapsodically
of an event so ready for rhetoric. The prodi-
gal had gone into a far country and returned
with a laurel crown. In the old homestead all
was sunshine; no one suspects maternal tender-
ness or scrutinises fraternal praise ; but the poet
did not receive so graciously the civilities of his
"plebeian brethren," who, nine months before,
had taken the other side of the street, and were
ready to hound him into exile. The adulation
of success which follows on insolence to calamity
is sure, on another turn of the wheel, to be again
reversed ; and Burns was all through the blare
and blaze manfully conscious that his triumph
was meteoric.
The old Armours were conspicuously defer-
ential, and got the return they deserved in his
expression of disgust at their " mean, servile
compliance." With the daughter it was different,
66 Robert Burns
and he flew, as Professor Wilson naively ex-
presses it, " too fervently to the arms of his
Jean." After hovering for a few days about
Mauchline, he, driven by a wandering impulse
or lured by the haunts of his lost Mary, rushed
off on an expedition to the West Highlands,
that has been called mysterious, because we
have no record of it, save a few letters and an
epigram composed at Inverary, which shows, as
might have been expected, that he did not find
the atmosphere of the metropolis of the Argyles
congenial. After a month spent, on his return,
in Ayrshire, we find him, early in August, back
in Edinburgh, where the fame of his volume
made him more a lion than ever in the circles
of his former friends, and opened to him others.
Unmoved by flattery or favour he, in one respect
only, betrayed a morbid self-consciousness. He
was suspicious of being stared at, intolerant of
condescension, and too nervously on his guard
against the claims of learning or of rank. This
feeling appears in the " Winter Night " and
passages of the Common-place Book, in which
he takes notes of the " characters and manners "
as they rose around him. These pen and ink
sketches are, on'the whole, conceived in a spirit
A Summary of his Career and Genius 67
of friendliness, but they are coloured by a cynical
vein, and it is hardly to be wondered at that when
extracts of course the severest began to be
circulated, people did not feel envious of a place
among them. There is little to add of the
spring and summer of this year save a few
records of the poet's impressionableness, gener-
osity, and patriotic enthusiasm. In January he
writes to Hamilton that he has almost persuaded
a Lothian farmer's daughter to accompany him.
In February he applied for and obtained per-
mission to erect the tombstone over Fergusson.
In March, answering Mrs Scott of Wauchope,
he wrote the famous Epistle, with the well-worn
lines beginning, " E'en then a wish, I mind its
power," and sent some grateful verses to Glen-
cairn, which, as appears, he did not obtain
permission to publish. The memory of that
accomplished nobleman rests securely on the
stanzas afterwards inspired by the premature
close (in 1791) of his generous life, " The bride-
groom may forget the bride," than which there
has been no finer tribute of genius to worth,
since Simonides and Pindar exalted the fame of
the kings of Syracuse. In April, in the course of
a Prologue for the benefit of the veteran Scotch
68 Robert Burns
Roscius (Mr Wood), Burns, after referring to
Hume, Robertson, and Reid, as glories of Cale-
donia, perpetrated his worst criticism
" Here Douglas forms wild Shakespeare into plan,"
and in May, writing to Mr Tytler of Wood-
houselee on the " Vindication of Mary Stuart,"
his worst lines
" Though something like moisture conglobes in my eye,
Let no one misdeem me disloyal."
On the 2$th of August he started with the
schoolmaster Nicol, another Crochallan, on a
three weeks' tour in the Eastern Highlands, in
the course of which he visited Queen Mary's
birth-room at Linlithgow, the tomb of Sir John
the Graeme at Falkirk, the Carron Works,
which he compared to the mouth of the Pit,
Bannockburn, scrawling on the window of the
inn at Stirling the dangerous stanza spread
abroad to his harm
" The injured Stuart line is gone," c.,
Strathallan, suggesting the lament, "Thickest
night around me dwelling," Dunkeld, Birnam
Hill, Aberfeldy, and the ducal residence at
Blair, where he met Mr Graham of Fintry
A Summary of his Career and Genius 69
and gave the toast, " Athole's honest men, and
Athole's bonnie lasses." They passed through
Rothiemurchus and Aviemore by Strathspey to
Findhorn and Castle Cawdor, then over Cul-
loden to Forres and Shakespeare's witch muir.
We next find the poet entertained at Castle
Gordon, an event commemorated in some of
his most graceful English verses, and hurried
away by the jealous impatience of his com-
panion, then returning by Aberdeen (where he
met some of his relatives and Bishop Skinner,
son of the author of " Tullochgorum," which he
extravagantly pronounced the best of Scotch
songs) : we trace him through Montrose to
Perth and up the Almond Water, looking for
the scene of " Bessie Bell and Mary Gray," and
so by Kinross and Queensferry to Edinburgh.
Ere the month was out he made (Oct. 1787)
with Dr Adair a fourth excursion, the main
point of interest in which is his residence at
Harvieston, and intimacy with Miss Margaret
Chalmers, to whom he in vain offered his hand.
On the same occasion he made the acquaintance
of Mr Ramsay of Ochtertyre on the Teith, knelt
on Bruce's grave in the Cathedral of Dunferm-
line, and then, " from grave to gay," having
7O Robert Burns
persuaded Adair to sit on the stool of repent-
ance, administered to him a parody of his own
rebuke. At Clackmannan he was knighted by
an ancient lady with the sword of her ancestor,
the good King Robert, and, nothing loath, re-
sponded to her toast, " Hooi uncos !" t.e. t "Awa'
Whigs, awa'."
Burns refers to his Highland trip in particular
as " perfectly inspiring," but its only poetic out-
come of much consequence was " Macpherson's
Lament," the death-song of a freebooter (re-
calling that of Ragnar Lodbrog), on the wild
grandeur of which Mr Carlyle has eloquently
dwelt. The fact that these expeditions yielded
so little direct harvest may be explained in
part by the business purpose of the first, and
the ill-adjusted companionship of the third ;
more by the prodigious productiveness of the
two previous years, and the social excitement
of the six preceding months. The soil on which
rich crops grow must sometimes lie fallow.
Add that the spirit of poetry bloweth where
it listeth, that to a mind of emphatically spon-
taneous power the fact of being expected to
write was a bar to inspiration, that Burns,
unlike Scott, only took delight in fine scenery
A Summary of his Career and Genius 71
as a frame to living interests, and we scarcely
require to consider the fatigues of travel in the
days when a sturdy lexicographer's journey to
the Hebrides was a matter of more adventure
than is now that of a lady to the Rocky
Mountains or the Sandwich Isles.
Back in Edinburgh, the poet shifted to more
comfortable quarters in St James' Square, where
he lived with Mr Cruikshank, whose daughter
is the Rosebud of his Muse. The rest of the
year was mainly devoted to negotiations with
Johnson, letters about the " Erebean fanatics,"
who were persecuting Hamilton and M'Gill,
and stray verses addressed to Peggy Chalmers.
On December 8, thrown from a hackney coach,
he sustained an injury serious enough to lay
him aside for six weeks, during which he ex-
presses despairing disgust of life, and describes
himself as " the sport, the miserable victim of
rebellious pride, hypochondriac imagination,
agonising sensibility, and Bedlam passion."
Poetic natures are rarely stoical, and a man
accustomed to walk the fields in the morning,
to blaze in society at night, naturally chafes
under confinement with a disabled limb. Burns
was besides beginning to smart from the fickle-
72 Robert Burns
ness none the less that he had anticipated it
of " Fortune beguiling." His day of " grace,
acceptance, and delight " had passed its noon.
The town had had its fill of the prodigy, and
the sough of the Reminiscences made the doors
of the great move more slowly on their hinges.
The proud poet in later days, when the castle
grew cold, sought solace in the "howfF"; now
he frequented the Crochallans, or wandered
about the crags. He had been foiled in one
love-suit, and was prosecuting another under
difficulties. Our space will only permit us to
sum the evidence bearing on this strange story.
On December 7th, Burns, at the table of a
common friend, met Mrs M'Lehose, a lady
whose husband had gone to the West Indies
and left her with limited means to bring up two
children in retirement in Potter-row. Hand-
some, lively, well read, of easy manners and a
ready wit, a writer of verses, sentimental and
yet ardent, she was born in the same year as
Burns, and told him that she shared his dis-
positions, and would have been his twin-brother
had she been a man. Two such beings were
obviously made for one another, and they lost
no time in finding it out. The above-mentioned
A Summary of his Career and Genius 73
accident having prevented their taking tea to-
gether, on the following day he received her
condolences with rapture. If he was, as lawyers
maintain, at this time a married man, he did
not know it ; but she was aware that she was
only a grass-widow, and she was virtuous.
Their correspondence must therefore be con-
ducted with discretion, and "friendship," not
" love," must be their watchword. How to re-
concile the pretence with the reality was the
trouble. Let them take the names of Clarinda
and Sylvander, and exchange their compli-
ments with the pastoral innocence of shepherd
and shepherdess in the Golden Age. So it
went on, letters flying to and fro, like carrier
pigeons, then greetings from windows, visits,
risks, recoilings, fresh assignations, reproaches
and reconciliations, wearisome to us, alternately
tantalising and alluring to the mutually fas-
cinated pair. It is perhaps impossible to get
at the absolute truth in this business, and if
conjecture errs, it ought to be on the side of
charity. One point has been now made plain,
it was no case of mere philandering. Beneath
all Clarinda's verbiage there throbs the pulse of
a real passion, afraid of itself, and yet incapable
74 Robert Burns
of surrendering its object. She knew that she
was playing with edge-tools, but she had
confidence in the strength of her principles.
Sylvander writes more like an artist, never
with so much apparent affectation as in
many of those letters ; fustian and bombast
they often are, but as to their being falsetto is
another matter. On all that Burns wrote there
is some stamp of the same strong mind ; but
he was capable of moulding his style on that
of his correspondents, and adapting his senti-
ments to theirs to such a degree as often
to contradict himself. When we compare his
letter of the 2nd March to Mrs M'Lehose with
that of the 3rd to Ainslie, we are tempted to
apply to the former his own line, " Tis a 1
finesse in Rob Mossgiel." But this plastic
faculty, the actor's power, the weakness of over
sympathetic or electric natures, is wrongly con-
founded with deliberate deceit ; it is an invari-
able accompaniment of dramatic genius, which
takes its colour from what it works in, " like
the dyer's hand." The poet's religious moods
were as genuine as those in which he led the
chorus of Crochallan : the former were elicited
by contact with religious people ; but he never
A Summary of his Career and Genius 75
even to them pretends to be orthodox ; he is
constantly fighting with Clarinda's Calvinism,
and trying to undermine her confessor, Kemp.
It therefore by no means follows, that, in his
offer to meet her " at the Throne of Grace," he
was playing the hypocrite : if he did so, it was
the worst thing he ever did.
Howbeit, this love-making was his main
occupation, till, in February, he had news from
Mauchline which naturally distressed and seems
less naturally to have surprised him. Jean was
again about to become a mother, and this time
her father had turned her out of the house.
Burns, of course, rushed to the rescue, estab-
lished her in the neighbourhood with the
comforts essential to her condition, and suc-
ceeded in reconciling her to her mother; but
he was at first incapable of shaking off the
spell of the syren, and wrote to Clarinda the
somewhat heartless letter about the " farthing
candle " and " the meridian sun," the former
being the woman who was little more than a
month later to become his wife, and to be
through good and ill report the faithful and
forbearing helpmate of the remaining eight
years of his life. On February 25th he went
76 Robert Burns
to Dumfriesshire and took the farm of Ellis-
land. " A poet's choice," said Allan Cunning-
ham's father ; " Foregirth had better soil ; "
and perhaps the views of the Nith had some-
thing to do with it. The lease was signed
March I3th, the day on which Jean's second
pair of twins are supposed to have made their
appearance. They, however, only survived a
few weeks. On the i/th Burns returned to
Edinburgh, and on the 22nd had a farewell
meeting with his " divine poetess." This, says
one narrator, " was the last of the serio-comic
episode of Clarinda." It is hardly so ; the
episode, more serious than comic, had an
epilogue; the correspondence continued inter-
mittently, and the renewal of their intimacy,
after more than three years of domestic life,
resulted in at least one immortal verse.
The poet left Edinburgh on the 24th, having
arranged with his publisher, and sent, as we
have seen, a share of his profits to Gilbert. He
had also applied to Mr Graham for a place in
the Excise, the duties of which he hoped to
combine with those of a farmer in the same
district. His name being placed on the list,
he was afterwards appointed to a post of
A Summary of his Career and Genius 77
(raised in course of time to 70) a year, which
he congratulates himself on having obtained
without any hanging on or mortifying solicita-
tion. On the 26th he was in Glasgow, on
the 3Oth riding over the moors between
Galloway and Ayrshire. It has been con-
jectured that he may then have come to
the resolve to throw over his poetical grass-
widow, and do his duty by the comparatively
illiterate girl who for him had given up every-
thing. A letter to Miss Chalmers, April
6th, is however our first distinct intimation of
this resolve. On the 28th he admits to his old
friend James Smith that he has made another
irregular marriage. It was afterwards (May
2nd) solemnised in the house of Gavin Hamilton,
as a Justice of the Peace, and on August 2nd
solemnly confirmed at the annual communion
in Mauchline, when both parties were repri-
manded, expressed regret for their conduct, and
" Mr Burns," by way of fine, " gave a guinea for
the poor." Jean did not sign her name, so her
husband did it for her ; but only six weeks
later he " acknowledges her letter," so the non-
signature must have been due to nervousness.
In frequent references to the event (especially
7$ Robert Burns
that about the Synod in his heart) the poet
takes too much credit for his conduct, but he
always adds that he expects to have no reason
to regret it. " I can fancy how, but I have
never seen where, I could have made it better,"
is his rather ungracious refrain. In a note to
Miss Chalmers on the i6th, he says that his
wife had read nothing but the Bible and his
verses (in singing which he often praises her
voice), but that his marriage had taken him
" out of villainy." Clarinda, however, was of
an opposite opinion, and on the news wrote a
furious letter, calling Burns a " villain " ; an
accusation to which, in a dignified reply of
March 1789, he refuses to plead guilty, being
" convinced of innocence, though conscious of
folly." There appears, we must confess, more
of the latter than the former in the whole extra-
ordinary story, the sum of which is that the
poet had entangled himself with two women,
and married the one he loved least, but to whom
he was far the more deeply bound.
A Summary of his Career and Genius 79
VI, Sixth Period, EllislandJuly 1788
October 1791.
t. 29-32.)
Burns left Edinburgh emphatically for good.
His first winter had been, like Byron's one
brilliant London year, over roses all the way ;
in the second he had to walk on withered
leaves. His old temptations had led him into
trouble, even threatened to harden his heart,
and some of his great friends were doing their
best to corrupt his taste. The criticism of the
eighteenth century is by no means so con-
temptible as it is the fashion to represent it ;
the English of Robertson, even the Latinised
style of Blair, was better than the simpleton
Anglo-Saxonism of recent antiquarians ; but it
was not the manner of writing proper to Burns,
and their square and rule were ill adapted for
the measurement of his wood-notes. When a
man adopts a style unnatural to him, he adopts
its most exaggerated or degenerate forms ;
when the author of the " Jolly Beggars " tried
to mimic the verse of Pope, the result was a
reproduction of Hayley. When he expressed
8o Robert Burns
to Clarinda his belief that " the soul is capable
of inflammation," he reminds us not of Steele
but of the Della-Cruscans ; he deserves a place
in the " Loves of the Triangles," when he " con-
globes a tear." His metaphors are often
laboured ; his allegories of " wisdom dwelling
with prudence," etc., are lame travesties of the
"Vision of Mirza." The dedications, acknow-
ledgments, and other letters of the period have
the same taint. In writing to Lords Buchan
and Eglinton he is not at his ease, as he would
have been in conversation with them. It seems
unnecessary to inform the one that he is incap-
able of mercenary servility, and when he grate-
fully remembers the honour of a suggestion
from the other, which he inly ridiculed, we feel
how near affectation may approach to insin-
cerity. Burns only escaped the latter vice by
timely rescue from an atmosphere that was
becoming unwholesome, and which no high and
most probably unsuitable alliance could have
made otherwise. Burns had all the "honest
pride " of which he says too much, and would
stoop for neither smile nor favour, but to
humour the great people at their dances he
wore a thin mask, and painfully went through
A Summary of his Career and Genius 8 1
a minuet with hob-nailed shoes. How bad the
spoken criticism of his censors must sometimes
have been, we may judge by some of the speci-
mens which have been printed : e.g., Dr
Gregory's rejection of " The Lass of Balloch-
myle," and his "swashing blows," beating the
last bit of life out of the poet's untimely
wounded hare ; Dr Moore's recommendation
to avoid the use of the Scotch dialect ; Dr
Blair's refusal to allow " Tarn o' Shanter "
to be printed for the benefit of his family as an
appendix to the remains of Michael Bruce ; and
George Thomson's suggestion that " Welcome
to your gory bed " be softened into " Welcome
to your honour's bed," are among the most
ludicrous in literature. True genius seldom
wants advice ; but the habit of offering it is
with some as inveterate as that of gambling or
drink. Fortunately Burns seldom paid much
heed to the cavils of men who " spun their
thread so fine that it was neither fit for warp
nor woof," and though, from good-nature, he
sometimes permitted his verses to be spoiled,
on afterthought a better judgment generally
tored them. In his fragment of a Scotch
unciad, " The Poet's Progress," he calls critics
on
z
~
82 Robert Burns
"those cut-throat bandits on the paths of fame,"
and his reception of Alison's " Essay on Taste,"
proves that on occasion he could turn and bite
the biters. On perusing this politely dressed
model of conclusive irony, Stewart innocently
remarks on the mastery of the laws of associa-
tion shown by the poet.
The lease of Ellisland ran from Whitsunday,
but Burns did not take possession till the
middle of June. His time till the end of
autumn was occupied in getting ready the farm,
and rushing backward and forward over a
distance of forty-five miles, between Dumfries-
shire and Mauchline where his wife continued
to reside. Present or absent, his dominant
feeling during this honeymoon, lengthened by
interruption, was that which inspires one of his
most deservedly popular songs, " Of a' the airts
the wind can blaw." When alone he was a
prey to many moods, for solitude never suited
him, and his first impressions of the Nithsdale
folk were unfavourable. " Nothing flourishes
among them," he exclaims, " but stupidity and
canting; they have as much idea of a rhinoceros
as of a poet," and " their whisky is rascally."
Ere the month was over he had, however,
A Summary of his Career and Genius 83
opened up friendly relations, only interrupted
near the close of his life, with the Riddells of
Glenriddell, and had written the well-known
verses in Friars' Carse Hermitage, conceived in
a spirit of Horatian content. About the same
time he was giving an appreciative study to
Spenser, and to Dryden's Georgics of Virgil,
criticising amateur verses with which he now
began to be pestered, writing a remonstrance
to the Star against the Anti-Jacobite demon-
strations at the centenary of the " Glorious
Revolution," and sending to Blacklock his ideas
of a model wife, whose " head is immaterial in
comparison with her heart."
In the first week of December he brought
Mrs Burns to "the Isle," a steading a mile
down the Nith, where they remained for about
seven months, till everything was ready to
enable them to move up to Ellisland. Now, if
ever, were the poet's halcyon days. He had to
all appearance found a quiet haven, a good
landlord, a promising farm, and a loving help-
mate. He could look forward to rearing his
own crops, walking over the fields, or loitering
by the river banks, enjoying his own thoughts
and setting his new words to old tunes. Master
84 Robert Burns
of his surroundings, he hoped at last to be
master of himself: his elastic temper let him
put by the shadows of the past, and he brought
into mid-winter the spirit of the spring. His
songs of this period are marked by a more
genuine buoyancy than either before or after.
Beginning with the defiant little lilt, " I hae a
wife o' my ain," he quickly followed it by two
of his most famous lyrics, " Auld Lang Syne,"
in which he turned a tame original into the
national song of peaceful, as " Scots wha hae "
is of warlike, Scotland ; and " The Silver
Tassie," beginning, " Go fetch to me a pint of
wine," a drinking song with the aroma of Love-
lace or Herrick. Burns had set before himself
a model domestic life, and for a time maintained
it. He helped Mr Riddell to establish a public
library, had family worship after his fashion,
and went to church for example, though he
found Mr Kilpatrick rather " drouthy." Re-
spected by his servants, esteemed by his neigh-
bours, beloved at home, his ambition was to act
up to his verse, and " make a happy fireside
clime for weans and wife."
The new year 1789 opened brightly : on the
first day he wrote to Mrs Dunlop one of his
A Summary of his Career and Genius 85
longest and finest letters. Soon afterwards an
angry gust has recorded itself in the outbreak
of ferocity, " Dweller in yon dungeon dark," pro-
voked by his being turned out of a roadside inn,
on a bitter night, to make way for the pompous
funeral cortege of Mrs Oswald. Burns was a
dangerous person to offend, and the quarrel-
some lads of the district did well to hold their
peace when he threatened to " hang them up in
sang like potato-bogles." He was a good dis-
ciplinarian, and, while generally indulgent to his
servants, came down heavily on dense stupidity
or obvious neglect. About Midsummer his de-
light in chastising wrong-doers found vent in
smiting the Philistines with "The Kirk's Alarm,"
a ringing blast about which he seems to have
taken some trouble, one among numerous com-
ments on his theory of literary work. " I have
no great faith in the boastful pretentions to in-
tuitive propriety and unlaboured elegance. The
rough material of fine writing is certainly the
gift of genius ; but I as firmly believe that the
workmanship is the united effort of pains, atten-
tion, and repeated trial." It would have been
well had this passage been impressed on the
minds of his imitators, of whom the first of too
86 Robert Burns
many crops had begun to appear. " My success,"
he complains, " has encouraged such a swarm of
ill-spawned monsters to crawl into public note
under the title of Scotch poets that the very
term Scotch poetry borders on the burlesque."
During the whole of this period Burns was
actively engaged on the farm, taking his full
share of hard work, and maintaining perfect
sobriety ; but he found leisure to write several
songs, among them, "John Anderson my Jo,"
and a number of letters from which an antho-
logia of his wit, wisdom, and tenderness might
be constructed. The series addressed to his
brother William would be amusing were it not
for its closing in about a year with a record of
the poor lad's death among strangers. " Form
good habits," and above all " learn taciturnity,"
is the refrain of advice which this comparatively
commonplace member of the family must have
found it as easy as his monitor found it im-
possible to follow. Towards the close of July
the Excise appointment was conferred, and
shortly after the family left the Isle for Ellis-
land, where (August 18) Francis Wallace, the
second son, made his appearance; and about the
same time Robert, the eldest, now three years
A Summary of his Career and Genius 87
old, was brought from Mauchline. The few
notable incidents of the succeeding months are
familiar in connection with the verses to which
they gave rise. A September meeting with
Nicol and Masterton at Moffat was the inspira-
tion of " Willie brewed a peck o' maut " ; the
" mighty claret shed " at Friars' Carse, in Octo-
ber, of the famous " Whistle." Mr Douglas
seems to have made out that Burns on that
occasion was present only in spirit, not in body ;
but the fact that the verses must have been
written five days after " Thou lingering Star "
has not failed to evoke comment on the rapidly
shifting moods of the " Borealis race," of which
he was a consummate type.
Round the dawn of 1790 clouds began to
thicken. Ellisland was after all proving as
profitless in the poet's hands as Lochlea or
Mossgiel. Whether it was owing to want of
skill want of energy it was not or a luck-
less choice of soil and situation, he was, as a
farmer, destined to one chagrin after another,
and had to fall back on his " second line of
defence," the Excise, a defence unfortunately
exposed to the attacks of enemies from within.
There was undoubtedly some irony in his choice
88 Robert Burns
of a profession, of which no one was so sensible
as himself. He refers to it fitfully in mocking
verse and serious prose, now fearing the " Par-
nassian queans " will disdain him, now manfully
asserting, " I would rather have it said that my
profession borrowed credit from me than I from
my profession;" again complaining that the
extent of his ten parishes, compelling him to
ride some 200 miles a week, is a strain on his
strength. Documentary evidence, especially
that recently made public, demonstrates that,
during the seven years of his service, he dis-
charged his duty to the Crown admirably well,
and under trying circumstances with the utmost
possible consideration and humanity. The stale
text " suaviter in modo y fortiter in re" was never
more apt. In dealing with poor old women and
other retailers on a small scale of " home-brewed "
he strained the law in their favour, and some-
times gave them timely warning. On the other
hand, he was so severe on hardened offenders
that in one year his decreet perquisites reached
the maximum known in the district. The evil
of his new business was that it led him to
spend so much of his time from home, and to
mix so much in questionable society. Towards
A Summary of his Career and Genius 89
Midsummer he was prone to linger in Dumfries
at the Globe Tavern, where a " guid willie
waught " was not the sole attraction. The
landlady's niece, a certain Annie Park, was,
we are told, thought beautiful by the guests
when they were in a state that made them
tolerant in matters of taste. With this Annie
of " the gowden locks," the poet contracted an
intimacy that inspired what he himself re-
garded as the best love song he ever composed,
" Yestreen I had a pint of wine," and resulted
in the birth (March 31, 1791) of his second
Elizabeth. The mother, being no more heard
of, is supposed to have died. The child was
first sent to Mossgiel, and then brought to
Ellisland, to be nursed by the much enduring
Jean along with her third son, William Nicol,
born just ten days later. Burns had again
broken loose : " the native hue of his resolu-
tion " was blurred over by the red fires of
passion, when in a defiant mood he threw off
the stanzas beginning, " I murder hate," and
ending with a notable proof of his Biblical
knowledge. In other directions he was wast-
ing his genius on election ballads, on prologues
and addresses for the local theatre, and on
90 Robert Burns
furious prose execrations against the Puritans,
the Edinburgh police, and things in general.
But his genuine inspiration though he com-
plains of the Muse's visits being " short and
far between" had not deserted him. July
gave birth to the elegy and epitaph, among
the finest in the language, on Mathew Hender-
son. In September Captain Grose, an anti-
quarian Falstaff to whom he had been intro-
duced at Friars' Carse, (the subject of one of
the poet's most good humoured epigrams, and
of the lines, " Hear Land o' Cakes and Brither
Scots "), having got from him three traditionary
stories of Alloway Kirk, recommended Burns
to put them into verse. The result was " Tarn
o' Shanter," thrown off in one day's walk along
the Nith, in an ecstacy, as Mrs Burns narrates ;
but matured into its published form during the
three succeeding months. Of this period there
are extant several records of friends or strangers
who came to visit him ; among them the
pleasant pastoral of Ramsay of Ochtertyre
with the quotation, " uxor Sabina qnalis? and
that of two English gentlemen who found him
angling with a fox skin cap on his head, and
A Summary of his Career and Genius 91
a broadsword hanging from his belt.* The
next year is marked by little of note, save
three instances of the poet's generous sym-
pathy: his interest in the publication of
Bruce's poems, his Ode for the coronation of
James Thomson's monument at Ednam, and
his interposition in favour of the schoolmaster,
Clarke, threatened with dismissal for severity
to his boobies an interference which seems
ultimately to have been successful. During
the summer Burns had four disabling falls
from his horse ; but he produced the elegy on
Miss Burnet, the lament for Giencairn, the
Banks of Doon, " Bonnie wee thing" in honour
of Miss Davis, and began to celebrate, under
the name of Chloris, a Miss Jean Lorimer, who
from this date till the close of 1795 was ms
reigning beauty. He wrote besides several
letters and some Jacobite songs, the chief of
which, " Farewell thou fair day, thou green
earth, and ye skies," was a favourite of the
poet Campbell. Currie says it is " a hymn
worthy of the palmy days of the Grecian
muse." At midsummer, Burns had determined
* Mr Carlyle does not credit this story, but it is fairly well
authenticated.
92 Robert Burns
to leave his farm, and, the roup of the stock
having been effected in September, the family
flitted to the headquarters of the rest of his life,
Dumfries.
VII. Period, Dumfries, 1791 1796.
&* 33-37-
a. The Wee Vennel (Bank Street\ Oct. 1791 May 1793.
b. The Mill Vennel (Burns Street}, May 1793 --July 1796.
Poets have thriven among the hills, nowhere
else could Wordsworth, or amid the turmoil of
a city, nowhere else could Pope, have found his
inspiration ; the atmosphere of a county town
is fatal to them. Dumfries, at the close of last
century, was by all accounts a bad type of its
class : the majority of its industrious inhabitants
found relief from the drudgery of their trades in
the small gossip of their limited society ; the
loungers went " black-guarding " through the
streets, or rioting in taverns. In this head-
quarter of scandal and dissipation Burns' course
was almost inevitably downwards. His whole
history was a struggle between the loftiest
aspirations, the most refined humanities, and
A Summary of his Career and Genius 93
temptations which his will was seldom strong
enough to resist. During his last five years,
his official duties compelled him constantly to
ride in all weathers over moor and vale in
search of illicit distilleries, and come into close
contact with their contents. His genius opened
to him the doors of castle and of cot ; in the
latter he was exposed to rural hospitality, in
the former to the demands of the company
gathered to wonder at his wit and rejoice to
find it flow freer with the wine. " They would
not thank me," he said of the squires and lairds,
" if I did not drink with them. I have to give
them a slice of my constitution." Thousands
of professing Christians, leading far worse lives,
have found shelter in obscurity ; but when a
great man yields it is proclaimed on the house-
tops and cried in the market.
The early records of his residence are full
>f forebodings. His income was inadequate
for his growing family, and he began to have
reason to complain of the coldness of patrons.
" The rock of independence," of which he was
ront to talk, was overhung with clouds lit by
ic meteors of French Revolutionism. In Nov.
791 he bitterly writes to Ainslie, "My wife
94 Robert Burns
scolds me, my business torments me, and my
sins come staring me in the face." It is at this
period that Clarinda again flashes with a vivid
lustre across the scene. Their intermittent cor-
respondence thickened, and, towards the close
of November, he went to Edinburgh and spent
a week mainly in her company. To their fare-
well meeting, on the 6th December, there are
several fervent allusions. From Dumfries, on
his return, we have on the I5th: "This is
the sixth letter that I have written since I left
you, my ever beloved." Shortly after he sends
the verses, " Ae fond kiss and then we sever,"
with the quatrain,
" Had we never loved sae kindly,
Had we never loved sae blindly,
Never met, or never parted,
We had ne'er been broken hearted,"
which, quoted by Byron, admired by Carlyle
and Mr Arnold, is the quintessence of passion-
ate regret. More than a year elapsed, during
which Mrs M'Lehose had gone to the Indies,
and, finding her husband surrounded by a troop
of small mulattoes, had come back again. Then
more letters passed, the final one preserved
being from the poet, dated Castle Douglas,
A Summary of his Career and Genius 95
25th June 1794, in which he professes to be
perplexed as to the manner in which he is to
address her ; " the language of friendship will
not suffice," &c. Then he reflects on the fickle-
ness of fame ; " she does not blow her trump
now as she did." " Yet," he adds, " I am as
proud as ever, and wish in my grave to be
stretched to my full length, that I may occupy
every inch of ground I have a right to." Here
not in the rendezvous of March 1788 closes
the episode of Clarinda, unless we bring to-
gether two later references that originally lay
far apart. One is from a letter of the poet to
Mary Peacock, companion of the friend in
whose house the lovers first met, of date 6th
December 1792. "This eventful day recalls to
my memory such a scene ! Heaven and earth !
when I remember a far distant person ! " Then
he gives the song
" Ance mair I hail thee, thou gloomy December,"
" Parting wi' Nancy, Oh, ne'er to meet mair."
The other is found in a leaf of an old woman's
liary of 1831 on the same anniversary, " This
day I can never forget. Parted with Burns in
the year 1791 (forty years ago) never more to
96 Robert Burns
meet in this world. O, may we meet in
heaven ! " Merfof rj /caret SaKpva. The writer
survived till 1841, reaching the age of 82.
In Burns's miscellaneous correspondence of
this period there is little of conspicuous interest.
The early stage of his intimacy with Maria (wife
of Walter Riddell of Woodley Park), a brilliant
West Indian of nineteen, at whose house he was
for two years a frequent guest, is marked by
an introduction of her book to his Edinburgh
printer. In September 1792, acknowledging
to Alexander Cunningham a diploma conferred
by the Royal Archers, he writes one of his half
dozen most remarkable letters, brimming with
banter like FalstafFs, then growing savage as
Timon, in an attack on the "religious non-
sense," which he declares to be " of all the most
nonsensical," asking, " why has a religious turn
of mind always a tendency to narrow and
illiberalise the heart?" and then putting the
whole storm to rest by the exquisite verse
inspired by Miss Lesley Baillie,
" The very deil he couldna scathe
Whatever wad belang thee ;
He'd look into thy bonie face
And say, ' I canna wrang thee.' "
A Summary of his Career and Genius 97
In the same month the Thomson correspond-
ence begins, one of the poet's earliest contribu-
tions to their joint undertaking being " Ye
banks and braes and streams around." The
first volume was published in July 1793, an d
shortly afterwards came the refusal of re-
muneration. In March we have an interest-
ing literary link in a letter to Miss Benson of
York, afterwards Mrs Basil Montague, Carlyle's
ill -requited patroness, and a request to the
bailies of Dumfries to be made a freeman of
the town, the granting of which enabled his
sons to be well educated in the grammar school
at small expense. In April 1793 an exuberant
humour overflows in his last letter to his old
friend Ainslie, signed Spunkie, with a notable
satire on pedants, who are advised to go about
with bundles of books bound to their backs.
Towards the close of the year he writes, to Mrs
Dunlop, of Cowper's " Task " " a glorious poem :
bating a few scraps of Calvinistic divinity, it
has the religion which ennobles man."
The subject of Burns's religion might lead
us into deeps beyond the range of the Satires,
nd supply material for a distinct chapter. His
iews, seldom clearly formulated, are not always
G
98 Robert Burns
consistent ; within limits they vary with varying
moods : but they are in the main those of an
anxious sceptic, as opposed to either extreme
of positive or negative dogmatism. His pre-
vailing reverence in treating sacred subjects has
been justly admired : but, while his light words
have been gathered up against him, the extent
to which he deliberately departed from the
" Orthodoxy " of the mass of his countrymen
has been studiously slurred over. Burns knew
his Bible well, and made frequent use of it ; but
we have no reason to believe that, after man-
hood, he ever read it otherwise than, as a great
modern critic has told us to read it, " like any
other book." " This letter," cries his most
recent biographer, " seems to savour of Socini-
anism." The word, often used in Scotland to
conjure up the devil of intolerance, is equally
applicable to almost all the leading writers of
the eighteenth century ; the only conspicuous
exceptions being Cowper and Johnson. Burns
was, as far as he had realised to himself his own
position, a Deist, and held that the mission of
Christ was to redeem man from himself, rather
than from any " wrath to come." " School-
divinity," he in mockery exclaims, " raves
A Summary of his Career and Genius 99
abroad on all the winds." ..." On earth
discord ! a gloomy heaven above, opening her
jealous gates to the nineteen thousandth part
of the tithe of mankind ! and below an inescap-
able and inexorable hell, expanding its levia-
than jaws for the vast residue of mortals. O
doctrine, comfortable and healing to the weary
wounded soul of man!" On points yet more
radical he gives an uncertain sound. E.g. " We
know nothing, or next to nothing, of the sub-
stance and structure of our souls. . . . Are we
a piece of machinery, or do those workings
argue something within us above the trodden
clod ? I own myself partial to such proofs of
those awful and important realities, a God
that's made all things, man's immaterial and
immortal nature." ..." Can it be possible that
when I resign this feverish being I shall still
find myself in conscious existence ? ... If
there is another life, 'tis only for the good.
Would to God I as firmly believed it, as I
ardently wish it." ..." All my fears and cares
are of this world ; if there is another, an honest
man has nothing to fear from it. Every fair,
unprejudiced enquirer must in such degree be
a sceptic. As for immortality, we want data to
ioo Robert Burns
go upon. One thing frightens me much, that
we are to live for ever seems too good news to
be true." " If there be a life beyond the grave,
which I trust there is, and if there be a good
God presiding over nature, which I am sure
there is, thou (Fergusson) art now enjoying
existence in a glorious world."
" < Tell us ye dead,
Will none of you in pity disclose the secret
What 'tis you are and we must shortly be ?'
A thousand times I have made this apostrophe
to the departed sons of men, but not one of
them has ever thought fit to answer the question.
O that some courteous ghost would blab it out !
It cannot be. You and I, my friend, must make
the experiment by ourselves, and for ourselves."
Stretching out his arms to these vast voids,
crying aloud in the wilderness, beating at the
bars of the iron gates, Burns had no care to
pose as a protagonist about a disputed text, or
to ride the whirlwind of a tea-cup storm over
an antiquated ceremonial. His clear, strong
mind none clearer or stronger of his age or
nation tore right through those comparatively
trivial counterscarps of discussion, and battered
A Summary of his Career and Genius 101
about the citadel ; raising the questions of the
existence of a beneficent, omnipotent Being,
and the hopes of a future life. On the last he
is tossed, like a ship at sea : on the first he
seems to find an anchor. His ethical standard
is, in prose and verse alike, explicit. " What-
ever mitigates the woes or increases the happi-
ness of others, this is my criterion of goodness,
and whatever injures society at large, or any
individual in it " (in which category he is care-
ful to include the whole animal creation), "this
is my measure of iniquity." Again, " Of all the
qualities we assign to the author and director of
Nature, by far the most enviable is to be able
to wipe away all tears from all eyes. What
sordid wretches are they who go to their mag-
nificent mausoleums with hardly the conscious-
ness of having made one poor honest heart
happy." Burns's Creed is that of Pope's " Uni-
versal Prayer " ; his Religion is condensed in
the couplet
" The heart benevolent and kind
The most resembles God."
His Millennium was no miraculous cataclysm,
no late fulfilment of the wonderful old dream of
IO2 Robert Burns
deliverance from Nero, but the realisation of the
slowly dawning golden age
" When man to man the warld o'er
Shall brithers be for a' that."
The poet's literary activity during these years
was, with the exception of a few prologues and
epigrams, restricted to his songs, which he con-
tinued to pour forth as from a well of living
waters. He had planned a long poem on a
legend of the Bruce, but never found himself in
a vein or at leisure to accomplish it ; fortun-
ately so, had it led him to blank verse, in which
he always failed. To the years 1792, 1793, be-
long, among others, the lyrics, " The Deil's
awa' wi' the Exciseman," " O saw ye bonnie
Lesley," "Gala Water," " Poortith Cauld," " Lord
Gregory," and " Scots wha hae," the last in-
spired in the course of an excursion to Gallo-
way with Mr Syme a friendly stamp collector,
who occupied the ground floor of the house in
Bank Street. The following year gave birth to
" The Minstrel of Lincluden " expanded into
" The Vision," beginning, " As I stood by yon
roofless tower " (for there are two poems of the
same name), " My Love is like a red, red Rose,"
A Summary of his Career and Genius 103
" It was a' for our rightful King," * which, if it
be Burns', is his noblest contribution to Jacobite
minstrelsy, and about the same date passing
from pole to pole of politics the Ode on Wash-
ington's birthday. In the interval, the family,
increased (November 2ist, 1792) by the addition
of a daughter (who died in the autumn of 1795),
had removed to their second and larger Dum-
fries residence, a self-contained house in the
Mill Vennel, in which were born the fourth
son, James Glencairn (1794), and the fifth,
Maxwell, who came into the world on the day
and at the hour of his father's funeral. Mean-
while during these years the poet had twice
got into trouble, owing to an amiable indis-
cretion in the first instance ; in the second to a
misdemeanour.
Burns' politics are on the surface somewhat
puzzling. He was a Jacobite and a Jacobin,
not in succession but simultaneously, and
attempts have been made to reconcile the
apparent contradiction by asserting that he
was not much in earnest on either side. This
view, based on a note to one of his songs,
* This poem never seems to have been heard of before its
appearance in Johnson's Museum.
IO4 Robert Burns
" except when my passions were heated . . .
my Jacobitism was merely by way of vive la
bagatelle" is adopted by Scott ; and Alexander
Smith denies the genuineness of both political
sentiments, saying the one sprung from his
imagination, the other from his discontent.
The poet's own apologetic expression, how-
ever, loses its force when we remember that
most of his best work was due to passion ; and
his commentators forget that Burns could only
write well on matters on which his heart was
set. He had only contempt for the squabbles
and corruptions of a county election where
" lobster-coated-puppies " were ranged against
well-to-do-tradesmen, with their ragged regi-
ments hooting at each other across the street :
hence his ballads, &c., on all local and practical
affairs might well be dispensed with. His
arrows only stuck when they came from a bow
at full tension ; his bullets only hit the mark
when, as in the German fable, they had been
dipped in the huntsman's blood. No doubt
modern Jacobitism, like devotion to anything
that is past, must draw largely on the feelings,
and the spirit of Jacobinism is whetted by a
sense of injustice. But Burns has written too
A Summary of his Career and Genius 105
much and too well of both to permit his regard
for either to be set down to a love of " fine
phrases." Verses like these
" Great Dundee who smiling victory led,
And fell a martyr in her arms."
" Bold Scrimgeour follows gallant Graham,
Auld Covenanters shiver ;
(Forgive, forgive, much wronged Montrose !
Now death and hell engulf thy foes,
Thou liv'st on high for ever.)"
those with the refrain, " There'll never be peace
till Jamie comes hame," and (if it was his),
" Now a' is done that man can do," are no more
the outcome of shallow sentiment than " Let
us pray that come it may," is of personal pique.
" Politics are not Poetry," said Goethe, and
wrapped in his own classic art, and the prob-
lems of all time, wrote at his Meister and
Xenien with the echoes of Jena about his ears.
But Goethe was a man apart ; his maxim ex-
presses only a half truth ; it may suffice for
calm philosophers, or the gilt gingerbread of
sickly sentimentalism, but poets who are men
of like though fiercer passions than their race,
the class whose souls are " fiery particles," will
be fervid politicians, but of a peculiar, and as
106 Robert Burns
regards their immediate surroundings, perhaps
a useless kind. It is of the essence of poetry
to attach itself to commanding Personalities, to
Romance and to Ideals. The practical govern-
ment of compromising parties has not elicited
a single verse worth reading. The poet looks
over the heads of Whig and Tory to legends
of the setting, or promises of the rising sun, he
celebrates Arthur and Barbarossa, or he heralds
the millennium of Shelley, or he falls, as Byron
did before he enrolled among the Carbonari, at
the feet of a Napoleon. By dint of a sham
audacity, even the sanguinary charlatan who
travestied the last, has enlisted the homage of
our greatest poetess. Over the house of Bruns-
wick it has never been found possible to be
poetically enthusiastic. The very counten-
ances of the Georges were enough to gorgonise
the Muses. In all the arts they deliberately
patronised mediocrity and neglected genius.
The great minister of the first and second, Sir
Robert Walpole, " the poet's foe," grew dunces
faster than Pope could slay them. The great
minister of the third, the elder Pitt, was,
during the noblest part of his career, practi-
cally at war with his sovereign, the obstinate
A Summary of his Career and Genius 107
farmer whose policy had lost to us one con-
tinent and embroiled us with another. The King
was a more hopeless theme for song than his
son, the fribble, in training to become " the first
gentleman in Europe." The poet's letters,
whether of defiance or apology, public or pri-
vate, to the Star newspaper or to Mrs Dunlop,
are full of hardly-suppressed disgust at the self-
complacent "reign of Heavenly Hanoverianism."
No wonder his fancy reverted to the Stuarts,
whose names from that of their glory, the first
James, the great King and good poet whose
assassination retarded for a hundred years the
civilisation of his country, to that of their
shame, the sixth, had been indissolubly linked
with minstrelsy and chivalrous adventure. The
ill-starred enterprises of the exiled race, ap-
pealing at once to the poetic sympathy with
fallen greatness and the poetic love of tradition,
gave birth to the host of stirring or pathetic
ballads on which Burns fed. He grants that
the issue tried at Culloden was decided well, but
it does not hinder him from weeping with the
Highland widow over her slain sons ; he
theoretically admits that " Sacred Freedom's
cause " was that of the Covenanters, but he
io8 Robert Burns
passes over the matters of Episcopacy to cele-
brate " our greatly injured lovely Scottish
Queen," and echo the charge of the Graeme at
Killiecrankie.
The same temperament which led him to
dwell on commanding Personalities and Ro-
mance in the past, also led him to look with
favour on the imposing figures and aspirations
that seemed, in the present, to hold out hopes
for the future. Various estimates have been
made as to the extent to which the revolution
in English verse that marked the close of the
century was affected by French politics ; but
there is no doubt they had points of contact
and affinity ; nor was it possible that Burns
should have remained callous to a movement
to which in his " green unknowing youth," even
Wordsworth designed to offer his aid. He
settled in Dumfries about the date of Mirabeau's
death ; when the most moderate liberals still
looked with favour on the uprising of a people
against centuries of misrule. Somewhat later
Jemappes was still regarded as a triumph of
defensive warfare, and twelve months more
elapsed before Danton had flung down the
head of a king as his gage, and Burke had taken
A Summary of his Career and Genius 109
it up in his paroxysms against the regicides. It
is hard for us after ninety years of disenchanting
history to realize the fascination of " Liberty,
Equality, and Fraternity," before the reign of
terror had shown the dangers of the first, and
experience the unreality of the second. Burns
was not slow to manifest and even to parade
his sympathies. Towards the close of February
1792, we are told that he seized a smuggling
craft, bought four of her guns,* and sent them
as a present to the National Assembly, and
that, on their being intercepted, the incident,
with others, as his proposing the health of
George Washington at a banquet, went against
him. In any case, rumours got abroad that he
not only held but had freely expressed revolu-
tionary opinions. The Government of the day
was nervous and alert ; remembering Wilkes,
alarmed by Paine and the u Friends of the
People," they did not hesitate to employ spies,
and were ready to accept " delations " of " the
t aspect." The Board of Excise, with or with-
ut instigation, ordered an inquiry to be made
ito the conduct of their gauger : hearing of
* This has been by some dogmatically denied, but the in-
cident is unlikely to have been invented.
no Robert Burns
which he, anticipating dismissal, sent off an ex-
cited letter to Mr Graham, giving the lie direct
to the allegations against him. This was fol-
lowed by another, January 1793, somewhat
calmer in tone, but going into painful details
of exculpation, and profuse in professions of
loyalty to the " sacred keystone " of our consti-
tution, the king. As far as pains and penalties
went the storm blew over, but hope of promotion
was at an end, and Burns felt that he had been
through the Valley of Humiliation, no salutary
discipline for a soul like his, and had to submit
to an insolent reprimand. " Mr Corbett," he
writes, in a letter to his generous champion,
Erskine of Mar, " was instructed to enquire on
the spot, and to document me that my business
was to act, not to think, and that whatever
might be men or measures it was for me to be
silent and obedient." Incredible as it may ap-
pear, this ne plus ultra of Bumbledom has been
recently defended on the ground that the poet,
being " in the public employ," had no right " to
dabble in politics," i.e., he was to be debarred
from expressing his regard for two republics,
with both of which we were at peace, because the
Tories happened to be then in power. Burns
A Summary of his Career and Genius 1 1 1
was bound, with all good citizens, to abstain
from seditious courses, but his office, held, we
take it, ad vitam aut culpani, could not bind
him always to agree with the Ministry, nor had
he sold his soul and body, or his liberty of
speech, for ^70 a-year. He ran the risk of
every candidate for patronage in offending his
possible patrons, but the censure of the Board
was an impertinence, and that he felt it to be
so the noble close of the letter to Erskine, in
which we have the best account of the matter,
clearly demonstrates. After this business the
poet's first resolve was to hold his peace, "to
jouk and let the jaw gae by:" but he chafed
under his chains, and sometimes made a noise
in rattling them. To use his own image, he felt
sore, like ^Esop's lion under an ass's kick.
During the spring '93, the bitterness breaks out
in occasional letters, notably in his answer to
the admonitions of the now respectable Nicol,
and the recently published Political Catechism
addressed to Cunningham items of which have
naturally attracted attention. The writer of this
and the nearly contemporaneous lines, " You're
welcome to despots, Dumourier," must have
ceased to expect anything from Pitt or Dundas.
1 1 2 Robert Burns
It is the clenching sarcasm of a man smarting
under the sense of neglect, and sick of hope
deferred, whose fair-weather friends were treat-
ing him as popular people treat everyone under
a cloud. Suspected politics, added to doubtful
religion, were too much to bear, and they looked
black upon him and fought shy of him. To be
thought bad is apt to make a man bad : to be
excluded from the society of equals is to be
driven to that of inferiors. Fatigue and de-
spondency alternating with fits of restless
irritation, Burns, too much impressed with
the maxim, " Better be the head of the com-
monalty than the tail of the gentry," sought
relief among the lower ranks, where he found a
shallow sympathy and countenance in his now
besetting sin. " Occasional hard drinking," he
writes to Mrs Dunlop, "is the devil to me.
Against this I have again and again bent my
resolution, and have greatly succeeded. Taverns
I have totally abandoned: it is the private
parties among the hard-drinking gentlemen . . .
that do me the mischief." On the morning
after this letter was written, when the Rev. Mr
M'Morline came to baptise his child, he found
that Burns had never been in bed, having sat
A Summary of his Career and Genius 113
up all night in his own house, with some boon
companions.
The next year, 1794, opened with a course ot
indulgence that twice proved disastrous. On
the first occasion, having proposed a toast
" May our success in the war " (the early stages
of which he always condemned) " be equal to
the justice of our cause," in presence of a fire-
eating officer, he narrowly escaped being dragged
into a duel. The name of this " lobster " is
preserved by the fact of his encounter with the
poet, to whom, when the French really became
aggressive, it fell to write the most stirring of
our challenges of defence. " Does haughty
Gaul invasion threat " will survive Captain
Dods. On the second occasion, in consequence
of his joining in a freak with other over-heated
guests, coming from the dinner-table to Maria
Riddell's drawing-room, he lost for a time the
esteem of her family, and, what was of more
moment, of herself. Kissing, which "goes by
favour," should never be public, and her indig-
nation, aggravated, it may be, by a latent sense
of the disparity of their ranks, was propor-
tioned to her affection for the man to whose
genius she has left the finest contemporary
i 14 Robert Burns
tribute. Next morning the poet, duly con-
trite, addressed the lady in cries of prose and
verse that might have melted a stone, but
she remaining obdurate, Burns, who could
never brook repulse, suddenly passed from
apology to lampoon. This completed the
alienation, and made him regarded as beyond
the pale, a mauvais sujct, with whom there
was no dealing. The quarrel was ultimately
made up, but not before his friend, the Laird of
Carse, unfortunately involved in it, had died
and been lamented in the elegy, " No more ye
warblers of the wood." The only remaining
event of the year worth recording is a visit
from his old acquaintance, Josiah Walker,
whose sententious comments on the occasion
afterwards roused the wrath of Christopher
North. Nor is there much in the next, but
the gathering of the clouds on the entrance
to the Valley of the Shadow. Care, remorse,
and embarrassment had done their work in
undermining a strong constitution. " What a
transient business is life," he writes (January i)
to Mrs Dunlop, " very lately I was a boy ; but
t'other day I was a young man, and I already
begin to feel the frigid pulse and stiff joints of
A Summary of his Career and Genius T T 5
old age coming fast over my frame." Walking
with a friend who proposed to him to join a
county ball, he shook his head, saying, "that's
all over now," and adding the oft-quoted verse
of Lady Grissel Baillie. His prevailing senti-
ment was that of his own couplet, characterised
as the concentration of many night-thoughts
" The pale moon is setting beyond the white wave
And Time is setting wi' me O."
Yet, ever and anon, his vitality re-asserted
itself, and out of the mirk there flashed the
immortal democratic creed
" Is there for honest poverty
That hangs his head and a' that ? "
In March we have a glint of sunshine; he was
reconciled to Maria, again received her letters,
criticised her verses, and took heart to make a
last appeal to Mr Heron for promotion. In
September, the death of his daughter again
broke his spirit and accelerated the close. His
hand shook, his pulse and appetite failed, and
he sunk into an almost uniform gloom : but to
the last it was lit with silver streaks. From the
very Castle of Despair he wrote, " Contented
wi' little and canty wi' mair : " over the dark
1 1 6 Robert Burns
surface of the rising waters there ripples the
music of the lines
" Their groves o' sweet myrtle let foreign lands reckon,
While bright beaming summers exalt the perfume,
Far dearer to me yon lone glen o' green breckan,
With the burn stealing under the lang yellow broom."
In January 1796, the poet, on his return from
a gathering at the Globe, fell asleep in the open
air and caught a chill, developing into a rheu-
matic fever, with which he was during the early
months intermittently prostrate. On his par-
tial recovery, in April, he wrote to Thomson,
" I fear it will be some time before I tune my
lyre again. By Babel's streams I have sat and
wept. I have only known existence by the
pressure of sickness, and counted time by the
repercussions of pain. I close my eyes in
misery, and open them without hope. I
look on the vernal day, and say with poor
Fergusson
u Say wherefore has an all-indulgent heaven
Life to the comfortless and wretched given."
May was a month of unusual brightness, but
cutting east winds went against him, and,
though sometimes appearing in the streets,
he was so emaciated as hardly to be recog-
A Summary of his Career and Genius 1 17
nised. His wife being, from her condition,
unable to attend to him, her place was supplied
by the affectionate tenderness of Jessie Lewars,
who hovered about his couch, like the " little
fairy," who long afterwards ministered to the
dying hours of the matchless German lyrist,
Heinrich Heine. To this girl, the sister of a
fellow exciseman, Burns addressed two of his
latest and sweetest songs with the stanzas
" Here's a health to ane I lo'e dear,
Thou art sweet as the smile when fond lovers meet,
And sweet as their parting tear, Jessie."
" O wert thou in the cauld blast
On yonder lea, on yonder lea,
My plaidie to the angry airt
I'd shelter thee, I'd shelter thce."
The poet himself was rapidly passing beyond
the need of shelter. On July 4th, he was sent
for sea air to a watering-place, Brow on the
Solway, and there had a last meeting with Mrs
Riddell, saluting her with the question, " Well,
madam, have you any commands for the other
world ? " He spoke without fear of the ap-
proaching close, but expressed anxiety for his
wife and children, and the possible injury to
his fame from the publication of unguarded
Ii8 Robert Burns
letters and verses. " He lamented," we quote
from the lady, "that he had written many
epigrams on persons against whom he enter-
tained no enmity, and many indifferent poetical
pieces which he feared would be thrust upon
the world. . . . The conversation was kept up
with great evenness and animation on his side.
... I had seldom seen his mind greater or
more collected." On the loth, when his land-
lady wished to let down the blinds against the
dazzling of the sun, Burns exclaimed, " O let
him shine, he will not shine long for me." His
peace of mind was unhappily distracted by the
inadequacy of the allowance granted to officers
on leave for illness, and by a letter inoppor-
tunely arriving from a Dumfries tradesman
pressing for the payment of an account. This
drew forth two piteous appeals one to Thom-
son, the other to his cousin at Montrose for
the loan of small sums to save him " from the
horrors of a jail :" with the former he enclosed
his last lyrical fragment, " Fairest maid on
Devon Banks." The same day he addressed
Mrs Dunlop complaining of her long silence,
she too having been influenced by the fama
of the preceding year. On the I4th, he an-
A Summary of his Career and Genius 1 19
nounced to Jean his arrival on the i8th. When
brought home he was so weak that he could not
stand ; but he was able to send to his father-
in-law his last written lines, saying, " Do, for
Heaven's sake, send Mrs Armour here im-
mediately." From the I9th to the end he was
for the most part speechless, " scarcely himsel'
for half-an-hour together," said Mrs Burns after-
wards. At one time he was found sitting in a
corner of the room, and, on being put back to
bed, exclaimed, " Gilbert, Gilbert." Early on
the 2 1st he was in deep delirium, broken only
by a few sentences, among them a last flash of
humour to an attendant volunteer, " John, don't
let the awkward squad fire over me."
The practice of lingering over the death-beds
of great men to peer and moralize is apt to be
either foolish or impertinent. The last utter-
ances of Madame Roland, Goethe, or Byron
may be* memorable ; but we can draw no con-
clusion as to their lives, or the truth of their
views of life, from the despairing agonies of
Cowper, the celestial vision of Pope, or the
serene composure of Hume. The last moments
of Burns were stormy, as his life ; an execration
on the agent who had sent him the dunning
I2O Robert Burns
account and the mighty Spirit passed. On
the 25th, his remains were carried through
Dumfries amid throngs of people asking,
" Who will be our poet now ? " and buried
with local honours. Shortly after the turf had
been laid on the mortal vesture of the immortal
power, a young lady with an attendant climbed
at nightfall over the kirk-yard stile, and strewed
the grave with laurel leaves. It was Maria
Riddell, who had forgotten his epigrams and
still adored his memory. Burns died poor, but
scarcely in debt, owing but a few pounds to his
friendly landlord, whose only fault with him
was that he did not have enough of his com-
pany. A subscription started for his family
soon raised for their relief the sum of ^"700,
which enabled them to preserve intact his little
library and tide over evil days. The poet had
a hard struggle for bread, but a tithe of the
stones of his monuments would have kept him-
self and his in affluence through all their lives.
Scotland has had sweet singers since his death,
one of them (Tannahill) with almost as tuneful
a voice in rendering the beauties of external
nature ; but only two great writers Scott and
Carlyle. Neither combined his lurid and pas-
/ s
A Summary of his Career and Genius 12 1
sionate force with the power of musical expres-
sion. In these respects his only heir was the
future lord of English verse, the boy who was
about to leave the shadows of Lach-na-gair for
the groves of Newstead.
Ill
RETROSPECT AND SUMMARY
IF the purpose of these records of the poet
has been in any degree fulfilled, there is little
need to ask further what manner of man he
was, or to add a sermon to the half-triumphant,
half-tragic text : triumphant in that it was given
him to mature his faculties and achieve endur-
ing work, tragic in that, thinking of his own
often defeated struggle, he wrote, " There is not
among the martyrologies so rueful a narrative."
Reticence is rarely, if ever, found in conjunc-
tion with genius. Even Shakespeare " unlocked
his heart " in the sonnets, and Goethe in the
Dichtung und Wahrheit. But Burns is gar-
rulous to excess ; least of all great writers, less
than his nearest mate, Byron (who burns blue
lights within otherwise transparent windows),
did he or could he hide himself. He parades
" the secrets of his prison house," joins a car-
I3 3
1 24 Robert Burns
nival unmasked, and with an approach to in-
delicacy throws open his chamber door. " I
was drunk last night, this forenoon I was poly-
gamic, this evening I am sick and sorry," is the
refrain of his confession. Scotch to the core in
his perfervid heart, he wears it on his sleeve to
be pecked at by innumerable daws, and is, in
this respect, teste Thomas Campbell, "the
most un-Scotch-like of Scotsmen." On the
other hand, he had all the ambition often un-
happily characteristic of his race. " Fate," he
exclaims, " had cast my station in the veriest
shades of life, but never did a heart pant more
ardently than mine to be distinguished." His
youthful pride was, by his own account, apt
to degenerate into " envy." His career was
haunted by a suspicion of being patronised or
insulted by rank or wealth, which led him too
willingly to associate with his inferiors and to
court the company of the wild " merry " rather
than the sober " grave." " Calculative creatures "
he condemns as inhumane ; for errors of impulse
he has superabundant charity ; he has " courted
the acquaintance of blackguards, and though
disgraced by follies " has " often found among
them the noblest virtues." Burns' affection
A Summary of his Career and Genius 125
for the waifs and strays of mankind was the
right side of the temperament of which his own
recklessness was the wrong. But his practical
sense, on occasion, asserted itself, in a manner
worthy of the canniest Scot, e.g., his refusal to
stand surety for his brother, his determination
never to bring up his sons to any learned pro-
fession, all his correspondence with Gilbert
and Creech. Burns is at his worst, where he
is cautious, almost cunning, as in some of the
Clarinda letters, a few relating to the Armours,
and such passages as that on his return from the
West Highland tour where he talks of women,
as a fowler might do of his game. " Miss
flew off in a tangent, like a mounting lark. But
I am an old hawk at the sport and wrote her
such a cool deliberate prudent reply as brought
my bird from her aerial towerings, pop down at
my feet like Corporal Trim's hat." Similarly
in his toast of " Mrs Mac," at Dumfries dinners,
his want of reserve amounts almost to a want
of fine feeling, and justifies the censure that if
woman, as a cynic has said, constituted the
poet's religion, he ought to have dealt with it
more reverently. Equally difficult is it to con-
done some of his vindicative epigrams. " Judcx
126 Robert Burns
damnatur? who can ignore those aberrations of
" Ayrshire's tutelary saint." The rest of the
tragedy, " half within and half without," is the
commonplace of moralizing commentary that
of hot blood, weak will, and straitened circum-
stances dragging down an eagle's flight. When
the devil's advocate has done his worst, " the
dissonance is lost in the music of a great man's
name." Tried in many ways, he was never
tempted to do or to think anything mean. The
theme of his prevailing sincerity has been ex-
hausted by a sharer of many of his mental,
exempted from his physical, faults, Mr Carlyle.
The finesse of the poet's flirtations is at least
on the surface. His amiable over-estimates
were genuine to the core. His magnanimity
amounted to imprudence ; his gratitude to all
who ever did him kindness to idolatry. Gener-
osity in almsgiving, a virtue though an easy one
of the rich, impossible to the poor, was not
accessible to Burns ; but he had the harder
virtue, rare in our scrambling world, of cordially
recognising and extolling the men whom he held
to be his peers. His anxiety to push the sale of
other people's books, as evinced in his letters to
Duncan, Tait, and Creech about Grose, Mylne,
A Summary of his Career and Genius 127
and Mrs Riddell, is a reproach to an age when
poets are animated by the spirit of monopolists.
If he loved praise, he was lavish of it. His
benevolence that overflowed the living world
was, despite his polygamic heats, concentrated
in the intense domesticity of a good brother and
son, husband and father. His works have been
called a Manual of Independence ; and that his
homage to the " Lord of the lion heart " is no
word boast, is seen in his horror of debt and
almost fanatical dread of obligation : they are
also models of a charity which goes far to cover
his own, as he made it cover the sins of others.
Everyone who knew Burns well in private life
seems to have loved him ; but he owed none of
his popularity to complaisance. Nothing in his
character is more conspicuous than the shining
courage that feared neither false man nor false
God, his intolerance of the compromises and
impatience of the shifts which are the reproaches
of his nation. Yet no man was ever more proud
of his nationality. The excess of patriotism
which led Fergusson to assail the Union and
detest Dr Johnson passed on to Burns. Here
and there his humour sees a little rant in it, as
when he writes to Lord Buchan, " Your much
128 Robert Burns
loved Scotia about whom you make such a
racket ; " but his prevailing tone is that of his
letter to Lord Eglinton, " I have all those pre-
judices. . . . There is scarcely anything to
which I am so alive as the honour and welfare
of old Scotia ; and, as a poet, I have no higher
enjoyment than singing her sons and daughters."
Hence, perhaps, the provincialism of his themes,
which Mr Arnold with his " damnable iteration "
of " Scotch drink, Scotch religion, and Scotch
manners" perversely confounds with provin-
cialism of thought.* Hence, rather than from
* V. Introduction to Ward's " English Poets," p. xli.
After the remark, "the real Burns is of course in his Scotch
poems," Mr Arnold proceeds, " Let us boldly say that of much
of this poetry, a poetry dealing perpetually with Scotch drink,
Scotch religion, and Scotch manners, a Scotchman's estimate
is apt to be personal. A Scotchman is used to this world
of Scotch drink, Scotch religion, and Scotch manners ; he
has a tenderness for it ; he meets its poet half way. In this
tender mood he reads pieces like the Holy Fair or Halloween.
But this world of Scotch drink, Scotch religion, and Scotch
manners is against a poet, not for him, when it is not a
partial countryman who reads him ; for in itself, it is not a
beautiful world, and no one can deny that it is of advantage
to a poet to deal with a beautiful world. Burns' world of
Scotch drink, Scotch religion, and Scotch manners, is often
a harsh, a sordid, a repulsive world ; even the world of his
Cotter's Saturday Night is not a beautiful world." Thereon
follow some pages of supercilious patronage of the poet who
was, it seems, "a man of vigorous understanding, and (need
A Summary of his Career and Genius 129
his more catholic qualities, the exaggerated hom-
age that his countrymen have paid to his name.
The Continent champions the cosmopolite
Byron, heavily handicapped by his rank, against
England ; Scotland has thrown a shield over
the errors of her most splendid son, and, lance
in rest, dares even her own pulpits to dethrone
her " tutelary saint." Seldom has there been a
stranger or a more wholesome superstition, for
on the one hand Burns is the great censor of
our besetting sins, on the other he has lifted our
best aspirations to a height they never before
attained. Puritans with a touch of poetry have
dwelt on the undoubted fact that he " purified "
our old songs. The commonplace criticism is
correct, but so inadequate as to leave the im-
pression that he was an inspired scavenger,
whose function was to lengthen the skirts of
Scotland's " high-kilted Muse," and clip her
" raucle" tongue. His work was nobler, that of
I say ?) a master of language," and mockery of his admirers.
If the critic's knowledge of Burns may be gauged by his be-
lief that the Holy Fair is "met half way" in a mood of
"tenderness" for "Scotch religion," his criticism is harm-
less ; but in perpetually playing with paradoxes Mr Arnold runs
the risk of spoiling his own " attic style "the style of " a man
of vigorous understanding, and (need I say ?) a master of
language."
1 30 Robert Burns
elevating and intensifying our northern imagi-
nation. He has touched the meanest animal
shapes with Ithuriel's wand, and they have
sprung up " proudly eminent." His volumes
owe their popularity to their being an epitome of
melodies, moods and memories that had belonged
for centuries to the national life : but Burns has
given them a new dignity, as well as a deeper
pathos, by combining an ideal element with
the fullest knowledge of common life and the
shrewdest judgment on it. He is the uncon-
scious heir of Barbour, distilling the spirit of
the old poet's epic into a battle chant, and of
Dunbar, as the caustic satirist, the thistle as
well as the rose of his land. He is the conscious
pupil of Ramsay, but he leaves his master, to
make a social protest and lead a literary revolt.
Contrast the " Gentle Shepherd " with the
" Jolly Beggars " the one is a court pas-
toral, like a minuet of the ladies of Ver-
sailles on the sward of the Swiss village near
the Trianon, the other is like the march of the
Maenads with Theroigne de Mericourt. Over
all this masterpiece is poured " a flood of liquid
harmony " : in the acme of the two-edged
satire, aimed alike at laws and law-breakers,
A Summary of his Career and Genius 131
the graceless crew are raised above the level
of gipsies, footpads, and rogues, and made,
like Titans, to launch their thunders of re-
bellion against the world. Ramsay adds to
the rough tunes and words of the ballads the
refinement of the wits who, in the "Easy"
and " Johnstone " Clubs, talked, over their
cups, of Prior and Pope, Addison and Gay.
Burns inspires them with a fervour that thrills
the most wooden of his race. He has purified
" John Anderson, my Jo," and brought it from
the bothie to the " happy fireside clime " : but
the following he has glorified :
1. Semple (seventeenth century) rudely
" Should old acquaintance be forgot
And never thought upon,
The flames of love extinguished
And freely past and gone,
Is thy kind heart now grown so cold,
In that loving breast of thine,
That thou canst never once reflect
On old langsyne."
2. Ramsay (eighteenth century) classically
" Methinks around us on each bough
A thousand Cupids play,
While through the groves I walk with you
Each object makes me gay ;
132 Robert Burns
Since your return the sun and moon
With brighter beams do shine,
Streams murmur soft notes while they run
As they did langsyne."
3. Burns immortally
" We twa ha'e run about the braes,
And pou'd the gowans fine,
But we've wandered mony a weary foot
Sin' auld langsyne.
We twa ha'e paidl'd in the burn
Frae morning sun till dine,
But seas between us braid ha'e roar'd
Sin' auld langsyne."
It is the humanity of this and the like that has
made Burns pass into the breath of our nostrils.
His " voice is on the rolling air " ; his arrows in
every Scottish heart from California to Cathay.
He fed on the past literature of his country as
Chaucer on the old fields of English thought,
and
" Still the elements o' sang
In formless jumble, richt and wrang,
Went floating in his brain."
But, though as compared with Douglas, Lynde-
say, &c., his great power was brevity, he brought
forth an hundred-fold. First of the poets of his
nation he struck the chord where Love and
Passion and reality meet. We had had enough
A Summary of his Career and Genius 133
of mere sentiment, enough of mere sense,
enough of mere sensuality. He came to pass
them through a harmonising alembic. To this
solid manhood, to this white heat, to the force
of language which has made his words and
phrases be compared to cannon balls, add the
variety that stretches from " Scots wha hae "
to " Mary in Heaven," from " Duncan Gray "
to "Auld Lang Syne" a lyric distance only
exceeded by the greater dramatic distance
between Falstaff and Ariel, the Walpurgis
Nacht and Iphigenia, and we can understand
the tardy fit of enthusiasm in which William
Pitt compared Burns to Shakespeare. He who
sings alike of Agincourt and Philippi, of Snug
the joiner, and the " bank whereon the wild
thyme blows," has doubtless no mate in the
region of " Scotch drink, Scotch manners,
Scotch religion " ; but we have no such testi-
mony to the cloud-compelling social genius of
Shakespeare as everywhere meets us in regard
to Burns. He walked among men as a god
of either region. He had that glamour or
fascination which, for want of a better word,
called electric, gave their influence to Irving,
Chalmers, and Wilson, who have left little that
1 34 Robert Burns
is readable behind them. Carlyle alone among
his successors, representing the mixture of
German idealism, John Knox morality, and the
morbid spirit of our sad critical age Carlyle
alone among great Scotch writers, seems to have
had this power : but his thunderous prose wants
the softness of his predecessor's verse. Swift,
Gibbon, Hume, and Burns are, in our island,
the greatest literary figures of the eighteenth ;
as Scott, Wordsworth, Shelley, and Byron are
of the first half of the nineteenth century.
I
TURNBULL AND SPEARS, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.
bert
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