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Full text of "Robert Burns in other tongues; a critical review of the translations of the songs & poems of Robert Burns"

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ROBERT BURNS IN OTHER TONGUES 




JAMES MACLEHOSE AND SONS. GLASGOW, 
pnblUhfn to t\u BnlBctiilg. 



Ftlimhirrk, ■ Daiiglai and Fmlii 




m^M/Ky 



ROBERT BURNS 









yf 



Jan»c? MacLehose ajicl Sons 

i;iDblt«hii* Id Ifti fI«iMa*i|) - 

'*96 f .... 




V 



ROBERT BURNS 

IN OTHER TONGUES 

A Critical Review of the Translations of the 
Songs & Poems of Robert Bums 



WILLIAM JACKS 

AUTHOR OF A TRANSLATION OF "NATHAN THE WISE** 
ETC. 



Glasgow 
James MacLehose and Sons 

^Bbliehcrs to tht Bntbtisilj! 



All rigtli riuntd 



^ 



^^^^^^^^^^^t 



Jlingsl pllUckl' ich einen WitK-nsirauss, 
Trug ihn ijLtlajikenvoU n.ich Haus ; 
D.-i hallcn, von tier warmcn Hand, 
Die Kronen sich alle lur Erde BCwnndL 
Ich selEic sle in frisches Gins, 
Und welch ein Wundcr war niir das! 
Die KOpfchrn hobcn sich enipor. 
Die Blatterslengel tm grllnen Klor. 
Und alliusanimen so jjesund, 
Als ilUmlcn sie noch auf Mullergnmd. 

So war niir's. als ich wundersani 
Metn Lied in frenider Sprache vcinahm. 



I WAS led into the present task by seeing now and 
again in newspapers, reviews of foreign translations 
of the works of Robert Bums, and by occasionally 
meeting with specimens of these translations in my 
wanderings on the Continent. 

From remarks in these reviews, the great bulk 
of the translations seemed to be unknown or unre- 
garded in this country, and I thought it might be 
useful to students of languages, and gratifying to 
admirers of the poet, were the various translations, 
so far as they are known, dealt with in one volume, 
and thus brought more directly into notice: 

I have taken generally the same songs and poems 
throughout, with a view to making a comparison 
of the power of the different languages in expressing 
those works. I found, however, that this would lead 
me far beyond the bounds which I had set myself, 
and therefore have left that interesting study for 
some other time, or for some other pen than mine. 



viii PREFACE 

It would be hypocritical pedantry to leave it to 
be assumed that I knew all the various languages 
which appear here, sufficiently well to enable me to 
criticize these translations as I have done ; indeed 
some of them I do not know at all. In such cases 
I had each retranslated literally into a language 
which I did understand, and the retranslation was 
sent to a native of the particular country for con- 
firmation and comment, and in this way I was able 
to make my remarks. 

On one of my fishing expeditions I met a 
man who was anxious to do away with all pride 
of birth, "occasions of excess," and generally to 
" reform the world " as he termed it He had a 
bee, or maybe two, in his bonnet, and I was rather 
taken with his odd ideas. One day this worthy 
came upon me as I was reading Angellier's work 
on our poet. " What's that .= " he asked. " The 
works of Burns in French, with a very fine 
criticism," I replied. " Hum ! what dae they ken 
aboot Bums, and what's the use of reading the 
works in a foreign langige when ye can read them 
in yer ain ? " was the rejoinder. Precisely so ; I 
felt this was a criticism very likely to be used by 
more cultured minds than his. 

My task, however, is not very difficult to defend. 
It is interesting to show how widely the influence 
of Burns has spread, and surely it is gratifying to 



P&EFACS. U 

know that in so many tongues the prayer is said 
or sung : — 

"Then let us pray that come it may. 
As come it will for a', that ; 
That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth, 
May bear the gree, and a' that 
For a' that, and a' that, 

It's coming yet, for a' that, 

That man to man the warld o'er, 

Shall brothers be for a' thaL" 

Then it may be useful to students of foreign 
languages. In learning such myself I always com- 
mitted to memory a good deal of prose and poetry 
in order to impress the spirit and idiom of the 
language on my mind. A piece from Bums well 
translated will be a great aid to the student in this 
respect. 

Personally, the study has been to me, as I hope 
it will be to others, profitable as well as pleasant, 
for we are forced to acquire a clear insight into the 
thought and meaning of the poet in order to judge 
of the fidelity of the translation, and we gain much 
in this way. Let me give a single example. Take 
the line, 

"Courts for cowards were erected." 
Four out of every five readers of Bums to whom I 
put the question, " Does this mean Royal Courts or 
Courts of Law ? " replied " Royal Courts, of courfe" 
An eminent German translator uses the word 



X ■ PREFACE 

" Gericht," not " Hof." This suggested the ques- 
tion to me; and I discovered he was right, as the 
context shows. 

" A fig for those by Livio protected ! 
Courtt for cowards were erected, . . . 
When I pointed this out, my friends admitted that 
they had not thought of it so closely. 

There are other instances which appear in this 
work, but this one will show my meaning. With 
the substitution of the word Dichter for Doctor, 1 
may faithfully use the words of Wagner to Faust 
and say — 

"Mit Euch, Herr Dichter, zu spaiieren 
1st Ehrenvoll, und ist Gewina"' 

I thought it would be interesting to add photo- 
graphs of the chief translators, and this 1 have 
done, so far as I was able to obtain them. 

Two indices — one, of the translators, the other, 
of the poems and songs, are added at the end of 
the volume. 

WILLIAM JACKS. 

Glasgow, JamMry, 189& 



' Goethe's Famt, Act l, Scene 11. 



CONTENTS. 



German, i 

Swiss German, 156 

Danish and Norwegian, - - - 170 

Swedish, ------ 185 

Dutch and Flemish, - - ■ 198 

African Dutch, 342 

Frisian, 250 

Bohemian or Czech,- - - - 354 

Hungarian, 390 

Russian, - ■ - - ■ - 327 

French, 359 

Italian, 435 

Scottish Gaeuc, . . - . 486 

Irish Gaelic, 499 

Welsh, 502 

Latin, 531 



^SBammmmm 



PORTRAITS. 



Robert Burns, - 
Adolf Laun, 
Edmund Ruete, - 

A. V. WlNTERFELD, - 

GusTAv Leceblotz, ■ 
Ferdinand Freiligrath, - 
Otto Baisch, 
August Corrodi, 
Frans de Cort, 
Pol de Mont, • 
Jos. V. SlAdek, - 
Joseph L£vav, - 

AUGUSTE ANr.EI.LlER, - 

Alexander Whamond, 
William Jacks, - 



Fronfispita 
to face page % 



INTRODUCTION. 



In estimating the power and excellencies, and, it is 
to be feared in many instances, the weaknesses and 
defects in the various translations of the works of 
our national Scottish poet, it is well to state the 
point of view from which they have been considered. 
In this consideration full weight is given to the 
warning words of Dante, that " No work bound 
together by the muse can be transferred from its 
own language to another without losing its sweet- 
ness and euphony."' This is undoubtedly true to a 
large extent, but, like many of the sayings of great 
thinkers, it is not true absolutely. There are, of 
course, works which are the glory of their native 
language, and which it is impossible to convey 
through the imagery of another tongue without 
losing the charm which makes them what they are ; 



But, on the other hand, there are some brilliant 
examples of an opposite result, such as Schlegel's 
Shakespeare, King John of Saxony's Dante, the 
Spanish translation of Gil Bias, Sir Theodore 
Martin's version of Horace, and a few others ; 
whilst Sotheby's translation of Wieland's Oberon 
'// Couvito, 1. 7. 



xvi INTRODUCTION 

has the reputation of even surpassing the original 
itself. 

Great minds are the common property of all 
nations, and it would bring an eclipse on literature 
did translations cease. The world of thought would 
lose its grandeur, and man become poorer in all his 
being. 

Emerson almost exhausts this part of the sub- 
ject in a few well-chosen lines in his Essay on 
Books : " I do not hesitate to read . all 

good books in translations. What is really best in 
any book is translatable — any real insight or broad 
humane sentiment. Nay, I observ^e that in our 
Bible and other books of lofty moral tone it seems 
easy and inevitable to render the rhyme and music 
of the original into phrases of equal melody. The 
Italians have a fling at translators, * I traditori, 
traduttori,' but I thank them — I rarely read any 
Latin, Greek, German, Italian — sometimes not a 
French book — in the original, which I can procure 
in a good version. I like to be beholden to the 
great metropolitan English speech, the sea which 
receives tributaries from every region under heaven. 
I should as soon think of swimming across Charles 
River when I wish to go to Boston as of reading all 
my books in originals when I have them rendered 
for me in my mother tongue." 

These eloquent words form a strong plea in favour 
of such works as those of Burns being rendered into 
the languages of other nations, so that every one 
may enjoy in his own tongue the privilege which 
Emerson describes. 

It has struck me during this study that there 
are two classes of translation — the strictly accurate 
and the artistic. It is like travelling in a new 



INTRODUCTION xvii 

country and giving descriptions. The accurate 
delineator will present things correctly in their 
natural character and vividness, but the true artist 
will clothe them with a grace and loveliness which 
only the eye trained to look into " the heart of 
things " can appreciate and portray. So with 
translators ; the accurate one is honest and reliable. 
We learn the thoughts of the author put plainly 
— it may be bluntly, but nevertheless truthfully — 
whilst with the artistic one we are disposed to for- 
give some slight breaches of strict accuracy for the 
sake of the grace, the charm, and beauty of a 
melodious and pleasing rendering. Fortunately a 
combination of these gifts is not impossible — indeed 
is sometimes attained. 1 am aware it is rare : 
it requires a mind equally at home in both lan- 
guages — a mind that can feel the spirit and full 
inspiration of the original. 1 1 requires a poetic 
instinct, with perfect insight and sympathy with the 
writer sought to be translated. Matthew Arnold, 
confirming Dante's words, says, " the verse of the 
Greek poets no translation can adequately repro- 
duce " ; and if the difficulty be great with the poets 
of antiquity, how much greater is it, with a poet 
like Burns, to give the foreigner a true idea of 
his peculiar humour, his tenderness, his wit, his 
pathos, his lyrical flow and varied creations — all 
being the rich development and true mirror of his 
life, throwing, and usually intended to throw, a 
light on the tumultuous emotions of his passionate 
soul ; and the difficulty is further increased by so 
many of his masterpieces being written in a rough, 
though terse and expressive language — often in a 
local dialect, the use of which is confined to the 
peasantry of a small portion of the British Isles. 



xviii INTRODUCTION 

Into what language can such phrases as the 
following be adequately translated? 

"We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet 
For auld lang syne " ; 

" Even Satan glowr*d, and fidg'd fu* fain, 
And hotch'd and blew wi' might and main " ; 

" She fufTt her pipe wi' sic a lunt " ; 

" Rob, stownlins, prie'd her bonnie mou* 
Fu' cozie in the neuk for't." 

Hundreds of other examples could be given of 
the highest power and vigour in their original, but 
which seem absolutely impossible of translation. 

It is therefore all the more creditable to those 
who have made these attempts, that some repre- 
sentative pieces at least, are rendered, with reason- 
able fidelity and poetic flow, into the various 
tongues reproduced in this volume. Whilst it is 
pleasing to find that the stalwart figure of Bums 
in these various costumes stands " colossal seen in 
every land," and that his lofty genius, his force, 
his tenderness, his deep sympathetic nature, and 
the music of his verse are strongly felt, even through 
languages so essentially different from his own 
powerful and pathetic Doric. 



GERMAN TRANSLATIONS. 



From the numerous translations into German, the 
renderings by the following authors have been 



Otto Baisch. Roben Burns' Werke, Lieder und Balladen. 

mit einer Einleicung und in neuer Uebersetzung, von 

Otto Baisch. Verlag von W. Spemann, Stuttgart 
K. Bartsch. Lieder und Balladen von Robert Burns, aus 

dem Englischen, von K. Bartsch. Bibltographisches 

Institut, Leipzig und Wien. 
Ferdinand Freiligrath. Gedichte von Ferdinand Freilig- 

ratb. Verlag der J. G. Cotta'schen Buchhandlung 

Nachf, Stuttgart, 1890. 
Adolf Laun. Lieder und Balladen von Robert Rums, 

Deutsch von Adolf Laun. Verlag von Robert Oppeti- 

heim, Berlin, 1869. 
GUSTAV Legerlotz, Robert Bums' Gedichte, in Auswaht, 

Deutsch von Gustav Legerlotz. Dnick und Verlag 

von Otto Spamer, Leipzig, 1889. 
Edmund Ruete, Gedichte von Robert Bums, Uebersetzt 

von Edmund Ruete. Verlag von M. Heinsius Nach- 

folger, Bremen, 1890. 
L. G. SILBERGLFIT. Robert Bums' Lieder und Balladen, 

Tiir deutsche Leser, ausgewahlt und frei bearbeitet von 

L. G. Silber^leit. Druqk und Verlag von Philipp 

Keclam, Jr., Leipzig. 
A. v. WiNTERFELD. Lieder und Balladen von Robeit 

Bums aus dem Englischen, Schottischer Mundart, 

von A. v. Winterfeld. Verlag von A. Hofmann & 

Comp., Berlin, 1S60. 



POEMS. 

I TAKE first the translations in the Teutonic and kindred 
tongues. As they bear such a close resemblance to the 
English, and especially to the Scottish language, one would 
expect these translations to be, more than any others, in 
unison with the spirit, rhythm, and melody of the original. 
More numerous these translators are, there being over 
twenty of them, and their number seems to be increasing 
daily, but the number of separate pieces translated is 
strikingly small, and in many cases even those selected 
are by no means representative. 

Mr. Frederick Notter, the author of an excellent trans- 
lation of Dante into German, complains of that language 
being raw and poor in rhyme " Rauhe und reimarme 
Sprache." Few wilt agree with him in this, as, owing to 
the diversified forms of expression, and the poetical 
license allowed in the use of words, there seem few 
languages which lend themselves more readily to rhyme, 
and especially to the rhyme and rhythm of Scottish 
poetry, than the German, and indeed alt the translator 
give their rendering in verse, which is, as we will see, 
seldom even attempted by French writers. 

Edmund Ruete, one of our translators, says : " Mein 
Ziel war Metram, Ausdnicksweise — Ton und Stimmung des 



2 BURNS IN GERMAN 

Originals getreu wiederzugeben, doch so, dass die Ueber- 
setzung sich wie ein deutsches Gedicht liest."^ 

But in many of these points even the best of the 
translations fail There are indeed, as will be seen, 
some very fine versions, but some of the authors may 
almost be dismissed in the words which Albert Triigers 
used towards Ph. Kaufniann's translation : '* Eine ent- 
sprechende Fortsetzung der Misshandlungen mit denen der 
arme Bums bei Lebzeiten gepeinigt wurde."* 

Let us look at one or two of the best translations of 
some of the most representative poems. 

^he (lottar*0 <§;atttrba|) ^ifiht 

seems only to have been attempted by two translators, 
Adolf Laun and L. G. Silbergleit, neither effort being very 
successful In both cases leading sentiments are omitted \ 
indeed, Silbergleit leaves out entirely the quotation from 
Gray's " Elegy " which is prefixed to the poem, as well as 
the first verse of the poem itself, containing the touching 
dedication to Robert Aiken. 

Mr. Laun gives a complete translation, but he does not 
attempt to render the idiomatic phrases to which so much 
of the pathos and power of the original is due ; as, for 
instance, 

" November chill blaws loud wi* angry sough," 
is rendered not amiss by 

" Kalt blast November in den kahlen Waldern "; ' 

^ My aim was to reproduce the metre, form of expression, euphony, 
-and spirit of fhe original, but so that it might read like a German poem. 

'A corresponding continuation of the ill-usage with which poor 
Bums was tormented during his lifetime. 

*CoId blows November in the bare forests. 



THE COTTAR'S SATURDAY NIGHT 



but 



" At length his lonely cot appears in view, 
Beneath the shelter of an agM tree ; 
Th' expectant wee-things, toddlin', stacher through 
To meet their Dad, wi' flichterin' noise an' glee," 
can scarcely be reci^nized in 

" Durchschritien hat er schon den kleinen Garten 
Und tritt in seine Hiittenwofanung ein, 
Die Kinder, die scbon iang des Vaters warten, 
Empfangen ihn mit Jauchien und mit Schrei'n,'" 
This is perhaps pemnissible, if not indeed necessary, 
for it is difficult to find equivalent expressions for the 
Scottish phrases; but there are cases in which, I think, 
the original might have been reproduced more literally 
and more powerfully, whilst the transposition of Bums's 
nine-tine verse into ten-Hne verse has led the translator 
into a wordy dilTuseness, destroying the precision and 
beauty of the originaL 

" The lisping infant prattUng on his knee. 
Does a' his weary carking cares beguile, 
An' makes him quite forget his labour an' his toil," 
is both weakly and with unnecessary difTuseness rendered 
in the following four straggling lines — 

" Der kleinste Knabe, krauetnd ihm zu Filssen, 
Der stamineind sich um seine Kniee schUngt, 
Das Alles fiillt sein Hen mit mehr Behagen, 
Als Arbeit, Miih und Last er Wochen Iang getragen';* 

* He hu already crossed the little garden. 
And enters inio his cottagC'd welling ; 
The children, who have already long expected him. 
Receive him with shouts and cries. 

'The smallest boy, crawling at bis feet 
And lisping, clings about his knee- 
All thai litis his heart with more pleasure 
Than the work, care, and trouble be has borne the week long. 



.-^ 



4 BURNS IN GERMAN 

whilst the next verse fails completely in bringing out the 
intention and meaning of the original — 

^ £s nahn sich nach und nach die alt'ren Kinder ; 
Der eine kommt vom Dienst im Pachtergut, 
Der andre rief vom Pflug herbei die Kinder, 
Ein dritter bringt sie in des Stalles Hut"^ 

These lines show not only a perhaps pardonable omis- 
sion of the idioms, such as " Belyve . . . come 
drapping in," "Some herd," "Some tenlie rin a cannie 
errand," but convey an altogether different picture from 
that of Bums — 

"Belyve, the elder bairns come drapping in, 
At service out, amang the farmers roun'. 
Some ca' the pleugh, some herd, some tentie rin 
A cannie errand to a neebor town," 

Burns tells us that all "the elder bairns" are at ser- 
vice, the work they are engaged in indicating their ages; 
and he draws a familiar picture of humble country life, all 
of which is lost in Mr. Laun's rendering ; whilst he shows 
his entire misconception of the natural and well-known ex- 
pression of Burns, " Some ca' the pleugh," which, as every 
Scotsman knows, and every student of Burns should know, 
means "Some drive or guide the plough," by rendering 

"Der andre rief vom Pflug herbei die Kinder."* 

"Ca'" he stumbles over, as he, and indeed others do in 
"Ca' the Yowes to the Knowes." The French, with 
some exceptions, render it "appeler," as we will see in 
dealing with the French versions; the Germans "rufen," 

^ Then arrive by and by the older children ; 
One comes from service in the farm, 
The other calls {sic) home the oxen from the plough, 
A third brings them to the shelter of the stable (or stall). 

'The other called the oxen from the plough. 



THE COTTAR'S SATURDAY NIGHT 5 

as if it meant call (summon), instead of drive or guide. 
A simple reference to Jamieson's Dictionaiy, however, 
would have put them right. Baillie, in his account of the 
General Assembly in Glasgow, 1638, says "The last day 
the nail was called (driven) to the head," whilst evciy 
Scots laddie looking after sheep, horses, or cattle of any 
kind, knows what the expression, *'Ca' them on, ma man \ 
ca' them on," means ; indeed, the well-known Scotch 
proverb, "Ca' yer ain gurr," gives also the same current 
interpretation. Mr. Legerlotz renders it correctly in "Ca' 
the Yowes to the Knowes," "Treib zum Btihl dei Schof- 
gewuhl," which he puts with the former title, " Horch, 
die Droschel." This word will also be found correctly 
translated in Heintze's version of the same song, "Treib 
die Schafe nach dem Ried." 

In the seventh verse Laun loses the naive and true 
picture which Bums draws in the words, 

"While Jenny bafflins is afraid to speak," 
and dismisses it with 

"Von Jenny zu vemehtnen."' 

More grating still is it to hear the grand word-picture 
so true to life, so pathetic, and so solemn, 

"And 'Let us worship God 1' he says, with solemn air," 
transformed into the diffusive exhorution which ukes two 
lines to express — 

" Dann spricht er : 'Lasset Eure Stimm' erkltngen, 
Wir wollen Gott, dem Heim, ein Dank- und Lablied,5ingen"'* 



'To learn fitom Jenny. 
'Then uys he, "Let your voices lound. 
We irill ung to God the Lord a tong of t)i«nkt and praite." 



6 BURNS IN GERMAN 

— phraseology, I venture to say, never used in a cottager's 
family worship. 

The eighteenth verse, and indeed a considerable part of 
the poem, are rendered with great force and on the whole 
with fidelity, and it is to be regretted that such imperfec- 
tions as I have pointed out should have crept into it ; 
whilst it seems as if the translator had scarcely attempted 
with any degree of seriousness to reproduce by 

"Aus solchem Geist ist Schottlands Gross' entsprungen, 
Das ist*s was Lieb und Ehrfurcht ihm gewann. 
Die Grossen hat das Schicksal bald verschlungen, 
Der SchOpfung Bestes ist ein braver Mann " 1 ^ 

the well-known lines of this famous poem — 

"From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs, 
That makes her loved at home, revered abroad : 
Princes and lords are but the breath of kings, 
*An honest man's the noblest work of God.*" 

"The breath of kings" has always seemed to me one 
of the most pregnant phrases in the whole range of 
poetry, yet it and the whole splendid imagery of the verse 
are entirely omitted. 

The last instance I give is very ludicrous,, and would 
**set the table in a roar" at any rustic meal to hear the 
"halesome parritch, chief o* Scotia's food," described as 
a partridge. 

" Mit einem Rebhuhn wie's dem Schotten frommt"' 

As a facetious friend exclaimed on my reading this to 

^ From such a spirit is Scotland's greatness sprung ; 
It is that which has won love and reverence for her ; 
The Great are soon devoured by Fate, 
Creation's best is an honest man. 

' A partridge as is pleasing to the Scotch. 



THE COTTAR'S SATURDAY NIGHT j 

him, " Gracious goodness 1 if they dae this wi' ' Parritch,' 
what'U they dae wi' 'a Haggis'?" 

Mr. L. G. Silbergleit heads his traoslation by an- 
incorrect title, nhich does not awaken the associatioDS 
of the original, and, even to readers ignorant of the 
original, cannot have the same homely influence. He 
entitles it " Samstag Abend Jm Dorfe." ^ 

Mr. Silbergleit is less happy in some of his expressions 
than Mr. Laun, although in many others he is more faithful 
and more musical, whilst his adoption of the nine-line 
verse of the original protects him from the dliTuseness 
which so often mars Mr. Laun's productions. 

The opening of the poem, to which I referred In Mr. 
Laun's verse — 

" November chill blaws loud wi' angry sough : 
The shori'ning winter-day is near a close;" 
Mr. Silbergleit renders even less faithfully thftn Mr. 
Laun — 

"Es weht ein schneidend kalter Abendwind. 

Wie bald lu End' ist ein Novembertag."* 
Then 

"The mother, wi' her needle an' her shears, 

Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new;" 

is made to read rather comically, 

t Scheer und Nadel schfin 
heinen schier wie neu."' 



* Saturday evening in the vitiage. 

'A cuning, cold evening wind is blowing: 

How soon a November day comes lo an end. 
'The mother works with shears and needle pretty, 

Make* antiquities look quite like new. 



S BURNS IN GERMAN 

Mr. Laun, although naturally unable to reproduce the 
force of "Gars," is much happier with 

"Die Mutter wirkt mit Nadel und mit Scheere, 
Und macht das Alte neu, mit klugem Sinn."^ 

The first part of the ninth verse is more faithful and 
happier than Laun's, but the last three lines read little 
better than a burlesque. How can 

"Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair, 
In other's arms breathe out the tender tale. 
Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale,*' 

be seriously rendered by 

"Geschah es, wo ein gliicklich liebend Paar 
In wunderbar endlosen Plauderein 
Sich sittsam freute an das Herdes trautem Schein."?' 

This may be a very pleasant and desirable situation 
and experience, but it is^a pity, to see it represented to 
the German public as a reproduction of- Borns's immortal 
picture. 

Then the scene of the Family. Wonhipi no beautiful in 
the original, and so accurate a reptodttctiofi of that pious 
•custom which hallowed (I fear I must say, in other days) 
-so many a hun^ble Scottish hearth, is not veiy creditable 
to Mr. Silberg^t 

" How He, who bore in Heaven the second name. 
Had not on earth whereon to lay His head," 

is rendered 



*The mother works with needle and with shears. 
And makes the old like new with proper taste. 

'It happened where a happy, loving pair, 
In wondrous, endless Chattings 
Enjoyed itself with propriety at the dear glow of the hearth. 



THE COTTAR'S SATURDAY NIGHT 9 

** Wie hier auf Erden, keine Statte wo, 
Sein Haupt zu bergen, hab'ein Menschenkind."' 

The reference in the original to "the second name" is 
obscured, if indeed intended to be made, and the trans- 
lation is as unsatisfactory to the poetical critic as to the 
orthodox Scottish Christian. Other lines in this noble 
picture are equally unworthy of it 

There are two lines — one at the end of the seventh, 
■and the other at the end of the eighth verse — which 
have always seemed to me to draw two of the most 
touching pictures in this beautiful poem, and Mr. Laun 
fails utterly to appreciate either the pathetic solicitude of 
the maternal breast in the one or the mother's becoming 
pride in the other. 

^ Weel pleas'd the mother hears, it's nae wild, worthless rake," 
he renders 

" Man brauche, da er brav, sich seiner nicht zu schSmen" ;* 
and the other — 

" Weel-pleas'd to think her bairn's respected like the lave," 
he renders diffusely again to fill up his ten lines — 
'" Und dann, wie thut's ihr wohl, dabei zu sehen, 

Dass aucb lu Jenny's Reit der Manner Wunsche gehen."' 
Wae's me 1 this is poor, poor stuff indeed I Mr. Silbergleit 
is more fortunate in the first picture — 

" Und freut sicb, dass ihr Kind an keinem Wildling hang " !• 

' How here on earth no places where 
To hide his head, mighl have a child of man. 

'One need not — as he is honest — be ashamed of him. 

' And then it does her good to leatn [hereby 
That also to Jenny's charms men's desires go. 

*And rejoices 'tis to no rake that her child is aluched. 



lo BURNS IN GERMAN 

In the second case, although, as usual, less diffuse, he 
is as little happy as Mr. Laun. 

" Sie freut sich, dass er liebt und ehret auch ihr Kind." * 

is poor indeed for Bums's expressive line — 

" Weel-pleas'd to think her bairn's respected like the lave.*' 

The only other instance to which I will refer as seem- 
ingly carelessly given is the rendering of 

" The youngling cottagers retire to rest : " 

which is very obscure in Mr Silbergleit's version — 

"Bald schlaft erfrischend tief das junge Blut,"' 

and is much inferior to Mr. Laun's faithful and pretty 
rendering — 

"Zur Ruhe geht der jungen Kinder Schaar."' 

On the other hand, many of Mr. Silbergleit's renderings 
are more faithful than those of Mr. Laun. The picture 
drawn in the fourth verse, beginning 

"Belyve, the elder bairns come drapping in," 

is much more truly and pleasingly reproduced, and the 
picture in the nineteenth verse, especially the two lines 

" Princes and lords are but the breath of kings, 
*An honest man's the noblest work of God,'" 

is more effective and true in 

"Ein Konigswort nur ist ein Furst, ein Lord, 
Des Schopfers Meisterwerk ein Ehrenmann,** * 

^She rejoices that he loves and respects her child also. 

'Soon the young blood sleeps refreshingly deep. 

•The young children band go (now) to rest. 

*A king's word only is a prince, a lord, 
The Creator's masterpiece— an honest man. 



THE COTTAR'S SATURDAY NIGHT n 

than ID (hose lines we complained of above, and indeed 
are, like some of this translator's work, difficult to surpass. 
Many of the verses in both translations are very fine, 
and to enable the reader to compare them, they are both 
given here. 

SAMSTAG ABEND IM DORFE. 

L. G. SlLBEBCLElT. 

Es wcht ein schneidend kaher Abendwind. 

Wie balJ lu End' \%\ ein Novembertag. 

Vom Acker kommen mude Gaul und Rind, 

Der Krahen schwarzer Zug fliegt bin lura Haag. 

Der mijde Dorller helmwaits eilen mag. 

Auf seiner Schulicr licgt des Werkieugs Lasi 

Nacb einer Woche Miih', nach manchem Schlag, 

Denn Morgen ist des Herren Tag, ist Rast, 

Drum heimwans durch den Moor mil froh bedacbt'ger HasL 

Bald isl er an der Hiittc angelangt, 

Don nah dem alten, schattenreichen Baum, 

Kleinvolk erwartungsvoU schon rennt und wankt 

Enigegen, kann ihn ja erwarten kaum, 

Bald zerret es an seines Rockes Saum. 

Das Haus so heimlich, lieber Frauenblick, 

Der ff erd, bellrSthend all' den kteinen Raum, 

Das ist sein Wochenlobn, das ist sein Gliick. 

Kaum denkt er an die Miih', die Sor^en all' zuruck. 

Einkehren auch die alt'ren Kinder bald 

Im Dienst auf andren Hofen nocb zur Zeit, 

Am Pfiuge, auf der Weide und im Wald, 

Zu einem Gauge immer dienstbereit. 

Die alteste ist Jenny, eine Maid 

Zur holden Jungfrau aufgewachsen schon. 

Sie zeigt vielleicht ein nagelneues Kleid, 

Gicbt gem den schwer verdienten Wochenlohn 

Fiir ihre Eltern ber, wenn schlimme Tage drohn. 

Man griisset sich mit Bnider-Schwestergruss, 

Befragt sich freundlich nacb dem Wohlergebn. 



1^ BURNS IN GERMAN 

Die Zeit entweicht auf schnellem, frohem Fuss; 

Denn man erzahlt, was Neues ist geschehn. 

Der Eltern Aug* wahnt suss getauscht zu sehn, 

Was wol den Kindem einst beschieden sei. 

Die Mutter schafft mit Scheer und Nadel schon, 

Macht Alterthiimer scheinen schier wie neu. 

Der Vater mahnt. Man lauscht mit achtungsvoller Scheu. 

Die jungen Burschen lehrt er alle Zeit : 

Dem Herm, der Herrin folgt von Herzen gem. 

Mit Kopf und Hand frisch bei der Arbeit seid 

Und tandelt nie, ist auch der Meister fern. 

Denkt immer auch, ihr dient dem ew'gen Herm 

Und achtet Tag und Nacht auf Ehr' und Pflicht, 

Dass der Versucher stets euch bleibe fern, 

Erflehet euch vom Himmel Gnad' und Licht 

Wer Gott nur suchet recht, der sucht vergebens nicht 

Nun horch ein leises Klopfen an dem Thor. 

Wer's ist, hat Jenny schon voraus gewusst. 

Ein Nachbarbursch kam mit ihr durch den Moor, 

Begleitete auf einem Gang sie just. 

So spricht sie, und die Mutter sieht mit Lust 

Und Leid den Glanz in Jenny's Aug* und Wang ; 

Fragt, wie er heiss', mit sorgenvoller Brust, 

H6rt Einen nennen dann, verschamt und bang, 

Und freut sich, dass ihr Kind an keinem Wildling hang*. 

Mit liebem Willkomm lasst ihn Jenny ein, 

Der Mutter auch der schmucke Bursch gefallt 

Willkommen scheint er Allen hier zu sein. 

Der Vater spricht mit ihm von Vieh und Feld. 

Das junge Herz vor Freude sich kaum halt, 

Von stiller Seligkeit schier iiberrinnt. 

Langst weiss die kluge Mutter, wem es gelt, 

Warum der Bursche zaget so und sinnt. 

Sie freut sich, dass er liebt und ehret auch ihr Kind. 



i 



solche Liebe, seltner goldner Fund. 
O Herzenslust, Schatz unberechenbar, 



THE COTTAR'S SATURDAY NIGHT 

Der schi3iiste Segen auf dem Erdennind 

Erfahrung und Gewissen lebren klar : 

Wenn je ein Himinelstrank gegOnnt wo war, 

Als Herzenslabe in der Erdenpein, 

Geschah es, wo ein gliicklich liebend Paar 

In ivunderbar endlosen Plauderein 

Sich sittsam freuie an des Herdes trautem Scbein. 



Wer, dessen Auge auch nach oben schaut, 

Wer, der nicht bar ist allcr Ehr' und Lieb', 

Wer kann mit list'ger Lockung Scblangenlaut 

Der Unschuld nahen wie ein nacht'ger Dieb. 

Flucb uber Eitelkeit und wiisten Trieb. 

Fluch iiber jeden Gecken ohne Scbam, 

Den Gecken, dem Verstand genug nicht blieb, 

Dass er sich jemab tief lu Herzen nabm 

Der Jungfrau Uniergang, der Eltern berben Gram. 

Nun kriint den schlichten Tisch ein Abendmabl. 

Man liebet bier heilsamen Haferbrei, 

Vnd Mtlcb dazu. Gering wol ist die Wahl, 

Gesundheit, Frohsinn Wiirze sind dabet. 

Die Hausfrau bringt berzu beut Mancherlei, 

Auch langgesparten schonen Kase schau. 

Der Bursch gedrangt riibmt oft, wie gut er sei. 

Und es erzablt die wirthlich muntre Frau : 

Ein Jahr alt war der Kas', als noch der Flachs war blan. 

Der Landmann speist gemessen still und froh. 
Der Kreis hat sich dem Herde zugekehrt. 
Der Patriarch mit WUrde Offnet wo 
Die Bibel, die dem Vater schon gebSrt. 
Zu preisen Gott, der seine Kinder nabrt, 
Die alte tiefgefurchte Stirn entblOsst, 
Mit Worten, die einst Zion hat gehiirt, 
Mit einem Psalme, der da siatk' und trost'. 
Nun lobet Gott, raft er, in Andacht aufgelQst 

Der priestergleiche Vater liest die Schrift, 
Wie Abraham von Gott geliebet war, 



14 



BURNS IN GERMAN 

Wie Moses Heldenschlachtruf ewig trifft 

Verworfener Amalekiter Schaar. 

Wie einst ein Konig Held und Sanger war, 

Der Gott geklaget reuevoU und bang ; 

Wie Hiob elend war und trostlos gar ; 

lesajahs mahnenden Prophetensang, 

Und andre Seher viel mit hohem heil'gen Klang. 

Er liest vielleicht der Christen Botschaft froh, 

Wie schuldlos Blut fiir schuld'ge Seelen rinnt ; 

Wie bier auf Erden keine Statte wo, 

Sein Haupt zu bergen, hab' ein Menschenkind. 

Wie jene J linger heldengleich gesinnt 

Die Botschaft tragen iiber See und Land ; 

Wie er, der sich gebannt auf Patmos find*, 

Den Engel sah, der in der Sonne stand, 

Und Babels Spruch vernehm' von Gott herabgesandt 

Zum ew'gen Himmelskonig auf den Knie'n 
Der Priester, Vater und der Gatte fleht. 
Auf Schwingen froher Hoffnung tragt es ihn 
Zum Licht, das einst auf ewig ihm aufgeht. 
Wo er die Seinen finde friih und spat, 
Da wo kein Klagen ist, kein Kummer mehr, 
Wo aller Wahrheit selig Banner weht, 
Fiir immer fallt des Knechtes Kette schwer, 
Und ewig walten Fried' und Freiheit, Liebe hehr. 

Wie arm dagegen ist der Kirchen Pracht, 

Wo man nach Kunst und Brauch den Schopfer preist. 

Wo laut wird von der Menge dargebracht 

Der Andacht Angesicht und nicht ihr Geist 

Solch Beten Gott erziirnet von sich weist, 

Trotz hellem Sang und langen Litanei'n. 

In Seelen schlicht, in niedre Hiitten meist 

Kehrt wahre Andacht gottgefallig ein 

Und in des Lebens Buch schreibt Gott die Armen ein. 

Dann heimwarts Jeder seines Weges geht 
Bald schlaft erfrischend tief das junge Blut 



) 



THE COTTAR'S SATURDAY NIGHT 

Das Eltempaar zuvor noch einmal fleht, 
Dass ihre Kinder gliicldich sei'n und guL 
Dass Er, der giitig speist der Raben Brut, 
Die Lilien hullt in Pracht und Herrlichkeit, 
Dass Er, wie es am Besten ihnen thut, 
Die Kinder stets allgiitig speis' und kleid', 
Und thnen Hera und Sinn erlcuchte alle Zeit 

Solcb niedres Dach birgt unsrcs Landes Hon, 
Den Fleiss, die Sitte und den Heeresbann. 
Etn KSnigswort nur ist ein Fiirst, ein Lord ; 
Des Scbopfers Meisterwerk ein Ehrenmann. 
In dem, was Kraft und Tugend wirken kann, 
Der Niedre manchen Sieg davon schon trug. 
Wer sieht fur Gold, was gleisset, heut noch an. 
Manch Ehrenkleid hiiilt Sehande ein und Trug, 
Stark fiir das Base nur, in HQIIenkiiiisien klug. 

Mein Vaterland, mein theures Heimathsland, 
Dir sei mein heissestes Gebei geweiht : 
Dass deines Samanns, deines Pflilgers Hand 
Erstark' in Frieden und Zufriedenheil, 
Geschiilzt vor feiger, schwacher Ueppigkeit, 
Dass deine Niedren, stark und edel all, 
Wann Kron' und Kriinlein enden ihre Zeit, 
Lang scbirmen noch nach jenem jahen Fall 
Dies vtelgeUebte Land wol wie ein FeuerwalL 

Der du des Landes Streiter stahlst mit Muth, 
Wie Helden furchtlos, was auch sturmt und droht, 
Zum frohen Siegen gegen Drangerwuth, 
Zum frohen Sterben in dem Sch lac hten roth. 
Dich nennet seinen Colt der Patriot, 
Bcgeistrer, Freund und Schinnherr lur und fiir. 
Schtitz' unsre Heimath in Gefahr und Noth, 
Gieb sel'ge Sanger, hohe Helden ihr, 
Ein lichtes Diadem, des Hauptes Hort und Zier. 



1 6 BURNS IN GERMAN 

DBS HUTTENBEWOHNERS SAMSTAG ABEND. 

Adolf Laun. 

Verehrter Freund, den Alles liebt und achtet, 

Ich bringe Dir kein feiles Loblied dar, 

Nach Gunst und Vortheil hab' ich nie getrachtet, 

Wenn nur mein Lohn des Freundes Achtung war ; 

Lass singen mich in einfach schott'schen Weisen 

Den niedren Pfad im engen Lebensthal, 

Auf dem das Landvolk wallt in ebnen Gleisen 

Mit festem Sinn und frei von Siind' und Qual ; 

War Aiken unter'm Hiittendach geboren, 

Ihm war*, ob unberiihmt, ein schoner Loos erkoren. — 

Kalt blast November in den kahlen Waldern, 

Der kurze Wintertag geht friih zur Ruh, 

Das Vieh kommt langsam, blokend von den Feldem, 

Die schwarzen Krahen fliehn dem Holze zu, 

Der Landmann schnt sich nach des Heerdes Flammen, 

Er hat der Wochei miihsam Werk vollbracht, 

Er stellet Harke, Schaufel, Karst zusammen, 

Gar froh, dass ihm der Samstag-Abend lacht 

Dem Sonntag-Morgen sieht er gem entgegen 

And wandelt miide heim durch's Moor auf dunklen Wegen 

Durchschritten hat er schon den kleinen Garten 

Und tritt in seine Huttenwohnung ein, 

Die Kinder, die schon lang des Vaters warten, 

Empfangen ihn mit Jauchzen und mit Schrei'n, 

Der Hausfrau Lacheln und ihr trautes Griissen, 

Das lust'ge Feuer, das vom Heerde blinkt, 

Der kleinste Knabe, krauelnd ihm zu Fiissen, 

Der stammelnd sich um seine Kniee schlingt, 

Das Alles fiillt sein Herz mit mehr Behagen, 

Als Arbeit, Miih' und Last er Wochen lang getragen* 

Es nahn sich nach und nach die altVen Kinder, 
Der eine kommt vom Dienst im Pachtergut, 
Der andre rief vom Pflug herbei die Kinder, 
Ein dritter bringt sie in des Stalles Hut 



THE COTTAR'S SATURDAY NIGHT tj 

Auch Jenny kommt, der Eliem Augenweide, 

In ihrer Jugend voll erbltibter Pracht ; 

Sic stellt sicb dar in einem neuen Kleide, 

Das sie mit ctg'ner, fleiss'ger Hand gemacht, 

And isc bereil, mit dem, was sie ersparet, 

Treu anszuhelfen, wo sie ii^end Nolh gewahret. 

Wie froh sind die Geschwister, sich lu sehen, 

Wie fragt ma.n nach des and'ren Wohl und Leid, 

Man spricht von dem und jenem, was geschehen, 

Und leicbten Fluges rauscht dabin die Zeit. 

Die Ellern schaun, als ob's schon heute ware, 

Voll HofTnung auf der Kinder Zukunft bin. 

Die Mutter wirkt mit Nadel und mit Scbeere 

Und macht das Alte neu mit klugem Sinn, 

Der Vater borcht dem Plaudern voll Vergniigen 

Und weiss mancb ernstes Wort der Lehre ein/ufugcn. 

Et mahm die Kinder, treu das auszufuhren, 

Was nach der Herrschaft Willen muss geschehn, 

Im Dienst behend lu sein und sicb zu riihren, 

Und nicht zerstreut und miissig dazustehn : 

" Ihr Kinder, fiircbtct Goit mitt frommem Sinne, 

Gedenket Eurer Pflichten Tag und Nacht, 

Daroit Verfuhning nicbt den Sieg gewinne, 

Die manchen scbon vom recbten Pfad gebracht, 

Blickl bin auf ibn lu jeder Zeit des Lebens, 

Denn wer ibn redlicb sucbt, der sucht ibn nicbt vei^ebens.* 

Docb horch ! ein leises Klopfen wird veraommen, 

Wer's ist, gar bald bat Jenny das gesehn : 

Ein Nachbarssohn, der liber's Moor gekoimnen, 

Der zuT Begleitung mit ibr helm will gebn. 

Die Mutter sieht die Glutb auf Jenny's Wangen, 

Der Liebe Funken, der im Auge brennt, 

Und fragt ihr Kind mit sorgenvollem Bangen, 

Woher der fremde Burscb, wie er sich nennt, 

Und lieb ist ihr's, von Jenny zu vernehmen, 

Man brauche, da er brav, sicb seiner nicht zu schMmen. 

Die fiibrt daraufihn zu den andren alien, 
Ein Jiingling ist's mit frischem Angesicbt, 



i8 BURNS IN GERMAN 

Sie weiss gewiss, er werde nicht misfallen. — 

Dieweil von Pfcrd und Kuh dcr Vater spricht, 

Tritt schiichtem er heran, das Hen voll Bangen, 

Den Busen von der Liebe Gluth entfacht, 

Der Mutter Klugheit ist es nicht entgangen 

Was ihn so angstlich und so schiichtem macht, 

Und dann, wie thut's ihr wohl, dabei zu sehen, 

Dass auch zu Jenny's Reiz der Manner Wiinsche gehcn.— 

GliickseePge Liebe, siisses Herzensbangen, 

O Wonne, welcher keine andre gleicht, 

Schon manchen Lebenspfad bin ich gegangen, 

Doch immer hat Erfahrung mir gezeigt : 

Wenn in des Himmels gnadenreicher Schaale 

£s einen Trank der reinsten Freude giebt, 

So beut er sie im dunklen Erdenthale 

Dem jungen Paar, das sich herzinnig liebt, 

Das ruhet unter'm bliihnden Weissdomstrauche, 

Vom Abendwind umwallt mit leisem duft'gem Hauche. 

Kann's einen Sterblichen hienieden geben, 

Der so verderbt und der so ruchlos ist, 

Um der Verfiihrung kunstlich Netz zu weben 

Fiir Jenny's reines Herz mit arger List ? 

Fluch ihm, der voll von siindlichem Verlangen 

Den Eid der Lieb* und Treue brechen kann. 

Sind Ehr* und Tugend ganz dahin gegangen, 

Nimmt sich der Unschuld kein Erbarmer an, 

Weiss er der Eltern Blindheit nicht zu warnen, 

Vor schlimmen Kiinsten, die der Tochter Herz umgamen?- 

Schon ladt die Tafel ein zum kleinen Mahle 

Mit einem Rebhuhn, wie's dem Schotten fronimt, 

Und siisser Milch in einer irdnen Schaale, 

Die von der einz'gen Kuh im Stalle kommt 

Die Mutter, die des Hauses Ehre wahret, 

Bringt, dass er ihrem Gast zur Labung sei, 

Den Kase, den sie sorgsam aufbewahret, 

Indem sie sich dabei vemeigt, herbei, 

Er schmeckt ihm, weil sie so in ihn gedrungen, 

Und muss gestehn, ihr Werk sei trefHich ihr gelungen. 



THE COTTAR'S SATURDAY NIGHT 19 

Wie nun das Mahl zu Ende, reiht im Kreise 

Sich um den blanken Heerd die kleine Schaar, 

Der Hausherr greift in Patriarchen Weise 

Zur Bibel, die der Stolz des Vatcrs war. 

Andachtig legt er seine Mutze nieder 

Und beugt sein Haupt, vom Silberhaar umwallt, 

Er wShlet soi^sam aus die Spriich' und Lieder, 

Die einst durch Zions Tcmpel schon gehallt, 

Dann spricht er : " Lasset Eure Stimm' erkHngen, 

Wir woUen Gott, dem Herm, ein Dank- und Loblled singen." 

Sie heben an mit kunstlosem Gesange, 
Der aus des Herzens innerm Drang entstcht, 
Vielleicht ist's Dundies Weis' in heUem Klange, 
Der "Hartrcr Lied" vielleicht, das klagt und flehi, 
Vielleicht auch Etgins Sang, der ohne gleichen 
Der schQnste, den das fromnic Scbottland singt 
Italiens Triller werden nie erreichen. 
Was hier so tief in unsre Seele dringt, 
M^ auch das Hera dabei vor Lust erbeben, 
Sie werden nimmer uns zum Ewigen erheben. 

Der Vater liest der Bibel heil'gc Sagen, 

Wie Abraham der Liebling Gottes war, 

Wie Moses rief, den hell'gen Kampf zu wagen 

Mit Amalecks gottlos vcrruchier Schaar, 

Wie, als des Himmels Rachestiahl er fijhlte, 

Im Staub der konigliChe Sanger rang, 

Wie Hiobs Bnst ein wilder Schmera durchwiihlie 

Und sein ergreifend Kiagelied er sang. 

Er liest Jesaias boch prophei'sche Wone 

Und andrer Scher Spiuch und Psalm am heil'gen Orte. 

Darauf im Testament des Christen thumes, 

Wie Jesus dort fur uns am Kreuze starl^ 

Wie der im Hitninel thront voll ew'gen Ruhmes 

Hienieden kelne Ruhestatt erwarb, 

Wie seine Jiinger rings er ausgesendet, 

Zu kiinden seine Lehre jedem Land, 

Wie vor dem Engel lag im Staub, geblendet, 

£r, der nacb Patmos Kiiste war verbannt. 



, BUR.VS /A' GERMAN 

Und wie er dort des Himmels Sptuch v 

Dcm grossen Babel sei der letite Tag gekommen. 

Dann knien sie vor dcm eVgen Kfinig nieder 
Und flehn und beten m ihm andachtsvoU, 

Sie sehn— denn Hoffnung hebet ihr Gefieder — 

Den Tag schon, der sie all' vereinen soil. 

Einsl werden sie im ew'gen Lieht sich sonnen, 

Wo man nicht weint, nicht seufzet scbwer und bang, 

Dort singen sie, durchbebi von ew'gen Wonnen, 

Des Scbopfers heilig hohen Lobgesang, 

In Liebe wtrd sich AUes dort verklaren, 

Dieweil der Zeiten Lauf durcbrollt die ew'gen Spharen. 

Wie arm dagegen ist das Scbaugeprange, 

Wo Religion beruht auf Kunst und Pracbt, 

Wohl tfinen heil'ge Won' in's Ohr der Menge, 

Doch an das Herz wird nie dabei gedacht, 

Der Priester Glanz und Macht ist bald geschwunden 

Mit allem, was ihr hohes Ansehn leihi. 

In armen Hiitten nur wird noch gefunden 

Des Henens einfach wahre Frdmmigkeit, 

Und ihr Gebet wird unerhort nicht bleiben, 

Denn in des Lebcns Buch wird Gott die Armen schreiben.- 

Dann lenken Alle heimwarts ihre Schrittc, 

Zur Ruhe geht der jungen Kinder Scbaar, 

Doch auf zu Gott mit Wunsch und stiller Uitte 

Erhebt noch einmal sich das Eltempaar, 

Dass, der die kleinen Raben niihrt im Neste, 

Und der die Lilien kleidet auf dem Feld, 

In seiner Weisheit wahlen mog" das Beste 

Fiir ihre Kinder in dem Lauf der Welt, 

Vor allem doch, dass ihr Gemuth er lenke 

Und mit dem ew'gen Schatz der Gnade sie beschenke. — 

Aus solchem Geist ist Schottbinds Gross' enisprangen 
Das ist's was Lieb' und Ehrfurcht ihm gewann. 
Die Grossen hat das Schicksal bald verschlungen, 
Der Schdpfung Bestes ist ein braver Mann ! 



THE COTTAR'S SATURDAY NIGHT 21 

Oft auf der Tugend rcinen, hoben Pfaden 

Bleibl vor der Hiilte der Pallast zuriick, 

Wie hat mic schwcrer Last sich der beladen, 

Der in dem Glanz der Hoheit sucht sein Cliick, 

Wie miiht er sich umsonst, ein nlchtig Leben 

Mit der Verfeinning Kunst und Tauschung zu umweben. 

O Schottland, theures Land, wo ich geboren, 

Zum Himmel geht fur Dicb mein heisses Flebn, 

Dein Volk, zur Arbeit auf dem Feld erkoren, 

O melt's noch lang' in Fried' und Gliick besiehn, 

Es woUe Gott Dein einfach Leben schonen 

Und es bewahren vor der Ueppigkeit, 

Dann falle nur in Staub der Glanz der Kronen, 

Du bleibst doch fest und stark im Sturm der Zett, 

Du wirst in Tugend immer Dich erheben 

Dein theures Inselland, ein Festungswall, umgebcn. 

O Gott, der Wallace HeldenhcR entflammte 

Zum Kampf fur Frciheit und fur's Vaterland, 

O Du, von dem der Todesmuth entstammte, 

Der jeder fremden Knechtschaft widerstand, 

Der Patrioten Gott, Begeistrung senken 

Woir in ihr Herz, dass sie auf Dich stets baun, 

WoU' ihnen don den Lohn der Tapfren schenkcn, 

Und nie und nte verlasse Schottlands Aun, 

Dann werden Sanger, Krieger stets erscheinen. 

Die sich zu Schutz und Ruhm auf seinem Boden einen. 



The second poem I propose to notice is " Man was 
Made to Moum." This, again, has been attempted by 
three translators, A. Laun, Robert Baitsch, and L. G. 
SilbergleiL Whether it be that the tone and spirit of this 
sad and thoughtful poem are more in unison with the cast 
of thought current with the translators, or that they are 



aa BURNS IN GERMAN 

more at home with it than with a subject like "The 
Cottar's Saturday Night," or that it is written entirely in 
that pure English which Bums could command with such 
effect, or whether it perhaps be the result of all these, I 
cannot of course say, but these efforts seem the most 
successful of all the Poems. Indeed Bartsch seems to 
have attained Ruete's ideal : " Metrum, Ausdrucksweise — 
Ton und Stimmung des Originals getreu wiederzugeben, 
doch so, dass die Uebersetzung sich wie ein deutsches 
Gedicht liesL" 

Laun's translation, as a whole, is very good, but 
unfortunately he spoils the effect, as he frequently does, 
by a few weak lines. For instance, the vigorous lines of 
Bums, 

"Too soon thou hast began 

To wander forth, with me, to mourn 

The miseries of man ! " 
rendered 

"Schon in so friiher Zeit 

Und wanderst Du, und weinst wie ich 

Schon iim der Menschen Leid," 

are weakened, and indeed the consonance of the whole 
picture is spoiled by the introduction of the words, " And 
weepest," as it is felt the old man's pathos is tmly one 
"too deep for tears"; whilst the two "schons" (alreadys) 
weaken the euphony. 

Bartsch is much more faithful and striking — 

** Beginnst du schon so frilh 
Gleich mir zu wandem, und beklagst 



'Already in soch early time 
And wonderest thou and weepeat like me 
Already on account of man's suflerines. 



MAN WAS MADE TO MOVRN aj 

Dcs Menschen Los voll Miib'."* 
Then 

" Um Brod und Arbeit fleht " * 
is weak compared with 

"To give him leave to toil," 
which his brother translator renders with almost literal 
correctness — 

"Arbeit lu geben fleht";* 
and the last two pathetic and powerful lines — 
" But, oh 1 a blest relief to those 
That weary-laden mourn 1" 
ate very feebly rendered by Laun in 

"Docb, segnet Dicb, wer immer weint 
Um unser Trauerloos,"* 
and arc inferior to Bartsch's reproduction — 
"Doch, selige HiKe bist du dcm, 
Der bier zum Leid bestimmL"* 
Bartsch's translation is almost perfect^ although such 
lines as 

"Und eines Abends wandemd, ich 
Zog bin am Strand des Ayr,"' 

'Already, too soon ihou art beguo 

Like me to wander, and dost moum 

Man's &te full of misery. 
*Begs foT bread and work. 
* Begs to give him work. 
*But be blesses thee, who alwajrs w«ept 

On account of out lot of moutning. 
' But a blessed help art thoa to him 

Who here appointed ii to luffering. 
*Aod one evening, wandering, I 

Went along the banks of Ayr. 



"4 



BURNS IN GERMAN 



could have attained to the literal precision of the original 
by being rendered 

" Und eines Abends wandert' ich 
Allein, am Strand des Ayr." 

Mr. Silberglcit's version is more of an imitation than 
a translation. 

"When chill November's surly blast 

Made fields and forests bare, 

One evening as I wandered forth 

Along the banks of Ayr," 
he renders 

"Einst ging ich an dem Bache hin 

Am Abend trtib' und kalt, 

Im spaten Herbst, wann iide ist 

Die Wiese und der Wald."' 
The following well-known verse is a fair example of 
the freedom of this author's translation. 

" Look not alone on youthful prime, 

Or manhood's active might ; 

Man then is useful to his kind, 

Supported is his right : 

But see him on the edge of life, 

With cares and sorrows worn. 

Then age and want— Oh ! ili-match'd pair ! 

Show Man was made to mourn. 



" Die Jugend hat wol frohen Sinn, 
Die Mannheit ungescbwacht, 
Sie freuet niitzlich und geehrt 
An Wiirde sich und Kecht, 



'Once I went along ihe brook 
On a dull, cold evening 
In late Autumn, when barren ii 
The meadow and the forest. 



MAN WAS MADE TO MOURN 25 

Am Lebensabend aber b5rf 
Ihr Itinen ein Geliiut 
Das ballet malt, das ballet bang 
Dies Erdenloos ist Leid."* 
This is poor enough, but, on the .other hand, some verses 
are well rendered, such as the last — 

"O Deatb ! the poor man's dearest friend, 
Tbe kindest and the best t 
Welcome the hour my aged limbs 
Are laid with thee at rest ! 
The great, the wealthy, fear thy blow. 
From pomp and pleasure torn j 
But, oh ! a blest relief to those 
That weary-laden mourn." 
He gives 

"O Tod, der Armen sichrer Freund, 
Der liebste, besie du, 
Willkommen, wenn dem miiden Leib 
Du bringcst ew'ge Ruh'. 
Dich fiircbtet, wer durch's Leben fliegt 
In Fiille und in Freud', 
Ersehnet nahst du ihm, der mud' 
Erliegt dem Erdcnleid."* 

Though this is somewhat better, the defects of the whole 

' Youlh his its joyful feeling, unweakened manhood 

Rejoice*, being useful and honoured, in dignity and right. 

Bal in the evening of life you hear a peal sound 

That clangs languidly, that clangs anxiously — the Ikte of earth ii 
Bunering. 
* O Death I the sure friend of the poor. 

The dearest, besi, art thou ; 

Welcome when to the weary body 

Thou bring'st eternal rest. 

He feais thee, who flies through life 

In fulness vaA in joy ; 

Longed for, thou approachest him, who weary, 

Sunendert to life's suflering. 



36 BURNS IN GERMAN 

are too Dumerous and serious to allow the version to be 
classed as a good translation. 

The defects, however, of Bartsch's and Laun's transla- 
tions are small, and the reader can compare their relative 
beauties. 

traubrn 1st der menschen loos. 
Adolf Lavn, 

Als des Novembers rauher Wind 

EntblSsste Flur und Hain, 

Ging ich hinab des Air Strand 

Am Abend gam allein ; 

Da ward ich einen miiden Greis 

Mit schwankem Schritt gewahr, 

Vom Alter war die Stim gefiircht, 

Und weiss sein waJlend Haar. 

Fremdling, wohin wanderst Du? 

So klang des Greisen Wort, 

Treibt Dich dcr Jugend heisser Drang, 

Der Durst nach Gold Dich fort? 

Vielleicht bedriickt Dich Sorg und Gram 

Schon in so frijher Zeit, 

Und wanderst Du und weinst wie ich 

Schon um der Menschen Leid. 

Die Sonne, welche dort das Moor 

Bestrahlt mit blasserm Schein, 

Wo Tausende im Herrendienst 

Sich harter Arbeit weihn, 

Sie tauchte achtzig Mai ftir mich 

Schon aus der Fluthen Schooss, 

Und immer hat sie mir gezelgt, 

Dass Trauer unser Loos. 

So lang des Lebens Leni Dir bliiht 

Vergeudesi Du die Zeit, 

Und nuttest nicbl die friscbe Kraft, 

Die Dir die Jugend leihL 



MAN WAS MADE TO MOURN 

Wie ist in Dir der Thorbeit Macbt. 
Det Leidenschaft so gross, 
Und kiindet als Naturgeseti, 
Dass Trauer unser Loos. 

Blick nicht nur auf die Jugend bin 

Und auf des Mannes Kraft, 

Er kann der Menschbeit niitzlkh sein. 

So lang er wirkt und schafTi, 

Biick .nuf den Greis am Lebensiiel, 

Der elend, arm und bloss. 

Die Noth zeigt und das Alter Dir, 

Dass Trauer unser Loos. 

Zwar hier und don durcb Scbicksals GuDSt 

Lebt einer sorgenfrei, 

Doch glaube nicbt, wie gross und rdcb, 

Dass er auch gliicklich sei. 

In jcdem Lande ist die Zabl 

Der Schwerbedrangten gross. 

Die Last des Lebens lebret Dicb, 

Dass Trauer unser Loos. 

Schlimm sind die Uebel, die der Mensch 

Von der Natur empfangt, 

Docb schlimmer, die er selbst sich schafTt, 

Von Reu und Angst bedrangt. 

Der Mensch, auf den der Himmel blickl, 

So liebevoU und gross, 

Verschuldet durch Unmenschlichkeit, 

Dass Trauer unser Loos. 

Sieh, wie der Arme dort in Noth 

Und Kummer fast vergeht, 

Und zu dem ird'schen Bruder heiss 

Um Brod und Arbeit fJebt, 

Und wie ibn dieser, ist auch er 

Doch nur ein Erdenkloss, 

Mit Weib und Kind verstosst und leigt, 

Dass Trauer unser LoOS. 



BC/XJVS IN GERMAN 

Bin ich von der Natur bestimmt, 

Der Knecbl des Herm lu sein, 

Warum denn goss der Fretheit Trieb 

Sie in mein Hen hinein? 

Wo nicht, warum denn stellt sie mich 

Dem Hohn des Grossen btoss. 

Wie hat er Will' und Macht daw, 

Dass Trauer unser Loos ? 

Doch lasse niche Dein junges Hen 

Zu sehr dem Schmeiz sich weihn, 

Denn dies wird nicht der letzte Spruch 

Des Menschenschicksals sein. 

Gott liesse nicht den braven Mann 

Hienieden arm und bloss, 

War ihm nicht ein Ersatz bestimmt 

Fiir dieses Trauerloos. 

O Tod, des Arcnen leizter Trost, 

Sein bester Freund bist Du, 

Willkommne Stunde, wo Du micb, 

Den Alten, fiihrst zur Ruh ! 

Der Reiche sieht besiilrzt Dich nahn 

Und bebt im Frcudenschooss, 

Docb segnet Dich, wer immer weint 

Um unser Trauerloos. 



Als des Novembers kaiter Wind 

Macht' Au'n und Walder leer, 
Und eines Abends wandemd ich 

Zog bin am Strand des Ayr, 
Sah ich, von Sorgen tiefgebeugt. 

Mild' schreitend einen Greis, 
Gefurcbt von Jahren seine Stim, 

Sein Haar wie Silber weiss. 
" Wohin, o Jiingling, wanderst du ? " 

Begann der wUrdige Mann, 



MAN WAS MADE TO MOURN 

" Lenkt deinen Schritt der Jugend Lust, 
Tr«ibt Durst nacb Geld ihn an? 

Wie, Oder schmeti- und sorgenvoll 
Beginnst du schon so friih 

Gleicb mir lu wandem, und bekt^^st 
Des Menschen Los vol! Miih'? 

" Die Sonne, die ob jenem Moor 

So weit entstrahit ihr Glubn, 
Wo in dem Dienst des slolzen Herni 

Sich liundert HSnde miibn, 
Icb sah sie acbuig Jahre lang, 

Wie sie die Hobn erklimmt, 
Und jedes lehrte mich aufs neu' : 

Wir sind zum Leid bestimmL 

" O Mann, solang* du Jung, wie sebr 

Veigeudest du das Heut', 
Missbrauchst kostbare Stunden, die 

Der Leni der Jugend beut 
Tliorheiten lenken wechselnd dicb, 

Manch wilder Trieb entglimmt, 
Bekraftigend das Naturgeseti : 

Wir sind zuro Leid beslimmt 

" Sieh nicht nur auf der Jugend Leni, 

Des Mannes th^tige Kraft, 
Die dem Geschlecht der Menscben niitit, 

Indem sie tiichtig schafTt ; 
Nein 1 wenn er miid' und sorgenschwer 

Des Lebens Rand erklimmt. 
Alter und Mangel lehren dich : 

Wir sind zum Leid bestimmL 

"Zwar wenigc Gunstlinge des Gliicks 
Hegt in dem Schoss die Lust ; 

Docb jeder Reiche, glaub' es, tragt 
Nicht Gluck in seiner BrusL 

Docb wieviel sind in jedem Land, 
VoD Sorg* und Gram gekriimmt I 



BURNS IN GERMAN 



"Zahllos in unsern Kfirper wob 

Natur scbon StofTiuni Gram, 
Und tausend andem gibt uns Reu', 

Gewissensbiss und Scham. 
Den Menschen, des erhoben Aug* 

Im Glani der Liebe scbwimmt, 
Hat, menschenqualend, Menschensinn 

Endlosem Leid bestimmt. 

" Sieh jenen a.l^eb3rmten Wicht, 

Verstossen und vcrschmabt, 
Der einen Erdenbnider ihm 

Arbeit zu geben fleht, 
Und seinen stolzen Mitwurm, der 

Mit Hohn das Flehn vernimmt, 
Nicbt denkend, dass ihm Weib und Kind 

Daheim in Thranen scbwimmt 

" Hat mich lu seinem Knecht bestimmt 

Natur, die alles lenkt, 
Warum ward dann ein freier Will' 

In meine Brust gesenkt ? 
Wenn nicht, wamm muss dulden ich, 

Wenn cr im Hohn ergiimmt f 
Dass Mensch den Menschen leiden macbt, 

Warum ward das bestimmt ? 

*' Doch grab' in deine junge Bmst 

Dies nicht tu tief sicb ein ; 
Denn dieser Blick aufs Menschenlos 

Wird nicbt der letzte sein. 
Der arme, vielgequalie Mann 

War" nicht rum Sein bestimmt. 
Gab's lum Ersati nicht einen Trost, 

Den auch sein i 



THE JOLLY BEGGARS 

Gegriisst die Stunde, wo du mich 
Bejahrten fiihrst lur Ruh' I 

Der Reiche fiircble deinen Schlag, 
Der Gluck und Lust ibm nimmt ; 

Doch selige Hilfe bist du dem, 
Der hier zum Leid bestimmt I " 



This work shows most strongly the poefs versatility, 
power, and keenness of observation. We find ourselves 
indeed in a new atmosphere ; we have here the one 
dramatic production which Bums accomplished, and it 
is perhaps the only work which would justify one in 
venturing to compare him with Shakespeare. It is there- 
fore a matter of regret that it seems to have been really 
sttempted by only one German translator, E. Ruete, 
whose version upon the whole is a very faithful repro- 
duction, although it is marred by a few weak renderings, 
and by some instances where the tran^ator has clearly 
missed the meaning, as well as the na'ivet^ and force of 
the poet ; for instance, 

" He ended j and the kcbars sheuk 

Aboon the chorus roar ; 

While frighted rations backward leuk, 

And seek the benmost bore," 
is feebly interpreted by 

" Laut schrie der Chor, wie*! Liedlein aus, 

Dass bebie jede Wand, 

'Ne Ratte hier und dort 'ne Maus 

Erschrocken flugs verschwand." ' 

■Load ihouted the chonis, as (he diity ended, 
So that eacli wall shook j 
And here b ra,t, and there a mouse, 
Frighlened, vanished quickly. 



32 BURNS IN GERMAN 

Instances where he misses the point and meaning of 
Burns occur more frequently. 

" Mein Alter, der war ein Husar seiner Zeit," * 

fails to convey the naive meaning of the original — 

^^ Some one of a troop of dragoons was my daddie." 

Then in 

"Mit Spassen mocht* ein wiird'ger Herr"* 
he misses the sarcasm on the clergy which Bums con- 
veys in 

" Observed ye yon reverend lad 
Male' faces to tickle the mob?'' 
whilst 

" Und jeden Kniff and Pfiff verstand »» 
serves but as an admission by the translator that the 
original, 

" And had in mony a well been douked," 
is beyond his power. 

One can forgive him for translating 

"With his philibeg an' tartan plaid" 
by 

" Wenn er im Plaid, dem bunten, ging " ; * 

for making " A raucle carlin " " Ein strammes Weib," * and 
" lowan drouth " " Durstiger Schlund," * because German 
equivalents to the expressive Scottish words could not be 
found ; but it is scarcely worthy of Mr. Ruete to render 



^ My father, who was an Hussar in his day. 
'With jokes a worthy gentleman would like. 
'And understood every trick and knack. 
^When he went in checkered plaid. 
•A sturdy quean. 
®A thirsty throat 




^:^^i*t-*^-»*c3^^yt^^-«,e--i^ 



THE JOLLY BEGGARS 

" And now a widow, I must mourn 
The pleasures that will ne'er return ; 
No comfort but a hearty can, 
When I think on my John Highlandman," 

" Nun traur* ich arme Wittwe sehr ; 
Und kommt kein siisser Schati daher, 
Dann ist tnir alle Freud' entfiob'n 

■x schmucken Hochlandsohn."' 



Mr. Ruete leaves this worthy widow without any com- 
fort whatever; according to Bums, she positively avers 
she has one at least. Then he gives ao entirely inconcct 
translation of 

" We rangM a' from Tweed to Spey," 
by 

"Am Tweed war unser HeimatorL" ' 
This is the very reverse of what Bums says, and of 
what every one knows to be the habits of such wanderers. 
These, however, are matters which could easily be cor- 
rected in another edition, and I only refer to them as 
small defects of a really good translation, considering the 
enormous difficulty of reproducing such a piece, with its 
general versatility, changing metre, rapid transition of 
ideas, and powerful idiom smacking so strongly of the 
soil and of the time ; all of which Mr. Ruete has tried 
faithfully to follow. 

' Now, ft poor widow, I mount tore. 
And if there comes no sweet treasure (iweetheait), 
Then all joy is fled from me 
With my small Highlandman. 

* Bj Tweed was our home. 



BURNS IN GERMAN 



Wenn fahles Laub am Boden liegt. 
Das dunkelnd durch die Liifte flicgC, 

So oft der Nordsturm pfeifl 
Wenn dichCer Hagel klatschend fallt, 
Im jungen Frost erslant die Welt, 

Weis^litzemd und bereift ; 
Dann fand tax Nacht mit lautem Schrei'n 

Ein fahrend Volk von Schachem 
In Poosie Nansies Krug sich ein, 
Den Bettel zu verbechem. 
Sie lechten und lachten, 
lAin Larmen war verwehrt, 
Sie sprangen, dass klangen 
Die Pfannen auf dem Herd. 
In roten Lumpen sass am Feuer 
Ein Kerl, dem war der Brotsack heuet 

Und Scbnappsack wohlgespickt \ 
Von Branntwein und von Decken warm 
Lag seine Liebste ihm im Ann, 

Die ihrem Krieger nickt 
Und immer gab er ihr lur Scund' 

'nen Kuss als Liebespfand, 
Sie hielt ihm bin den (.'ier'gen Mund 
Just wic 'ne hohle Hand. 

Er schmatzte, als klatschta 
Ein Peitschenhieb herab, 
Dann stolpernd und poltemd 
Schrie er dies Liedlein ab : 



Icb bin halt ein Soldat, der manchen Kriegsdienst that 
Und viele Narben hat, so breit und so lang : 
Die kriegt' ich fiir 'nen Kuss, vom Ftanzmann jenen Schuss 
Als lust'gen Willkommgniss, da die Trommel erklang. 



THE JOLLY BEGGARS 35 

Noch wusst* ich nicht gar viel vom bluc'gen Wiirfelspiel, 
AIs Wolfe, mein Feldherr, fiel und Quebeck errang ; 
Die Vestc Moro dann als ausgedicnter Mann 
Im Sturm ich mi^ewann, da die Trommel erklang. 

Bei Gibraltar zuletzt bab' die Spanier ich gehetzt. 
Da ward mein Bein zerfetzt, da verlor ich den Arm ; 
Doch bniucht mein Konig mich und fiibrt Elliot uns zum Sieg, 
Dann folg' als Steizfuss ich der Trommel im Schwami, 

Ein Kriippel anzuseh'n muss ich jetit betteln geh'n, 
Im Wind die Lumpen weh'n und warmcn nicht mehr ; 
Hab' doch zum Gliick genug ; 'nen Sack,'ne Dim und'nen Krug, 
Bin froh wie da ich schlug die Trommel im Heer. 

Oft ward mein Harr zerzaust vom Sturm, der mich umbraust, 

Wenn einsam ich gehaust zwischen Felsen im Wald ; 
Ist bin auch aller Tand, den Becher in der Hand 
Halt* ich der Hblle stand, wenn die Trommel erschallt ! 



RECITATIV. 

Laut schrie der Chor, wie's Liedlein aua 
Dass bebte jede Wand, 
'ne Ratce hier und dort 'ne Maus 
Erschrocken Hugs verschwand. 

Ein kleiner Fiedler rief Hurra ! 
Da capo ! immenu ; 
Aufsprang des Kriegers Taubchen da 
Und scbaffte wieder Ruh'. 



Einst war ich 'ne Jungfer, doch weiss ich nicht wann 
Und noch immer ergbtzt mich ein artigcr Mann ; 
Mein Alter, der war ein Husar seiner Zeit, 
Drum bab' ich am Krieger noch stets meine Freud'. 

Mein Erster war einer, der prahlte nicht schlecht, 
Die Trommel, die schlug er mit Macht im Gefecht; 
Sein Bein war so stnunm, seine Backe so rot, 
Ich liebie den Krieger aufLeben und Tod. 



36 BURNS IN GERMAN 

Doch als dann der fromme Kaplan mich begehrt, 
Verliess ich aus Liebe zur Kirche das Schwert ; 
£r wagte die Seele und ich nur den Leib, 
Da verriet dich, mein Krieger, dein treuloses Weib. 

Bald ward mir zuwider der heilige Mann, 

Das Heer insgesamt ich zum Eh'mann gewann ; 

Ob hoch Oder niedrig, ich liess ihn herein, 

Doch ein Krieger, ein Krieger, das musst' er halt sein. 

Doch der Friede, der zwang mich zu betteln um Brot, 
Da traf mich mein erster und half aus der Not ; 
Seine Lumpen, die bunten, die flatterten frohlich, 
Mein Krieger, der machte mein Herz wieder selig. 

Nun hab' ich gelebt, ich weiss nicbt wie lang* ; 
Hab' immer noch Krafte zum Trunk und zum Sang ; 
Doch solang* ich den Becher noch festhalten kann, 
Bring' dir ich ein Hoch, du mein Kriegsheld und Mann ! 

RECITATIV. 

Hanswurst sass mit 'ner Klempnermaid 

Abseits vergniigt beim Zechen, 
Zum Singen hatten die nicht Zeit, 

So viel gab's da zu sprechen. 

Zuletzt sprang taumeind er vom Platz, 

Von Bier und Liebe trunken. 
Gab seinem Madel noch 'nen Schmatz, 

Hat ernsthaft dann gesungen : 

ARIE. 

Herr Schlaukopf ist bezecht ein Narr, 
Herr Spitzbub' ein Narr vor Gericht ; 

Doch ich bin von Beruf ein Narr, 
Ein Pfuscher wie die bin ich nicht 

Grossmutter kaufte mir ein Buch, 

Da trollt' ich zur Schule mich hin ; 
Der Streich war wahrlich dunmi genug, 

Ich war halt der Narr, der ich bin. 



THE JOLLY BEGGARS 

Mein Leben Hess' ich fiir 'nen Trunk, 
Steta lauf ich den M^delein niich ; 

Verdieni das wohl Verwunderung, 
Da Klugheit von jemir gebrach? 

Einst band man micb wie 'nen wilden Stier, 
Weil ich mich beim Zechen erboste ; 

Einst wies man mir die Kirchenthiir, 
Nur weil ich ein Madel liebkoste. 

Hanswurst, der spielt und springt fur Geld, 
Der werdc von niemand verlacht ; 

Ein Spieler, hat man mir erzahlc, 
Ward ja zum Minister gemacht 

Mit Spassen mOcht' ein wiird'ger HetT 
Den Beifall der Menge erwerben, 

Der ziimt uns lust'gen Gauklern schwer, 
Weil wir das Geschaft ihm verderben. 

Und nun komm' ich zum Schluss fiirwahr 

Ich hab' einen riesigen Durst : 
Der Kerl, der fiir sich selbsi ein Narr, 

1st narrischer noch als Hanswurst I 

RECITATIV, 

Dann kam ein strammes Weih zum Worte, 
Das scbon manch Geldstiick sich erschnorrte, 
Schon manche BSrse schlau entwand 
Undjeden Kniff und Pfiff verstand. 
Ihr Liebstcr war ein Hochlandsohn, 
Doch baumell' er am Galgen schon ! 
Mit Seulien, Schluchzen, Handeringen 
Begann sie so ihn za besingen : 

ARIE. 

Vom Hochland kam mein Leibster her, 
Des Tiefiands Satzung spottet' er, 
Treu seinem Clan als Knabe schon, 
Mein tapfrer, scfamucker Hochlandsohn, 



38 BURNS IN GERMAN 

CHOR. 

Singt : Hei mcin schmucker Hochlandsohn I 
Singt : Ha mein schmucker Hochlandsohn ! 
Jedwedem Burschen sprach er Hohn 
Und hielt er stand, mein Hochlandsohn. 

Wenn er im Plaid, dem bunten, ging 
Und ihm scin Schwert zur Seite hing, 
Ward mancher Liebesblick zum Lohn 
Dem tapfem, schmucken Hochlandsohn. 

Am Tweed war unser Heimatort, 
Wir lebten froh wie Fiirsten dort ; 
Nie schreckte eines Feindes Droh*n 
Den tapfem, schmucken Hochlandsohn. 

Sie bannten weit ihn iibers Meer, 
Doch eh' der Baum von Knospen schwer, 
Vergoss ich Freudenthranen schon 
Und kiisste meinen Hochlandsohn. 

Doch ach 1 er ward gefasst zuletzt 
Und in dem Kerker festgesetzt ; 
Fluch iiber sie und Schimpf und Hohn ! 
Sie hangten meinen Hochlandsohn. 

Nun traur* ich arme Witwe sehr ; 
Und kommt kein siisser Schatz daher, 
Dann ist mir alle Freud' entfloh'n 
Mit meinem schmucken Hochlandsohn. 

RECITATIV. 

Da schaut* ein kleiner Fiedelmann, 
Der wandernd sich sein Brot gewann, 
Der Dame voile Hiifte an — 

Er war nicht hoh*r — 
Zu hammem ihm das Herz begann, 

Er seufzte schwer. 

Er leg^ aufs Herz die kleine Hand, 
Leis summend blickt er unverwandt 



■MR 



THE JOLL y BEGGARS 39 

Empor, bis er ein Liedlein fand, 

Der ZwergapoUo, 
Dann hub er an, von Licb* entbrannt, 

Sein Geigensolo : 



ARIE. 

Lass trocknen mich die Thrane dir 
Und folge mir, du schonste Zier, 
Und sing* trotz Lcid und Not mit mir : 
Nun freuet euch des Lebens ! 

CHOR. 

Ich bin ein lust*ger Fiedclmann, 
Der Madchen Gunst ich stets gewann, 
Hub ich einmal zu spielen an : 
Nun freuet euch des Lebens t 

Auf Markten und beim Hochzeitsschmaus, 
Da leben wir in Saus und Braus 
Und lachen Not und Tod selbst aus 
Und freuen uns des Lebens. 

So selig woU'n wir beide sein 
Und dehnen uns im Sonnenschein 
Und singen, wann du willst, zu zwei'n : 
Nun freuet euch des Lebens ! 

Wenn ich als dein gluckserger Mann 
Auf meiner Geige kratzen kann, 
Ficht Hunger mich und Frost nicht an, 
Dann freu' ich mich des Lebens ? 

RECITATIV. 

Von ihrem Reiz bezaubert ward 
Ein Klempner, wie der Fiedler, 

Der packt den Spielmann derb am Bart, 
'nen rost'gen Degen zieht er 

Und schwart mit einem grimmen Eid : 
" Durchs Schwert sollst du yerscheiden, 



40 



BURNS IN GERMAN 

Bist du nicht alsogleich bereit, 
Auf ewig sie zu meiden ! " 

Der arme Gauch, mit starrem Aug*, 

Fiel auf die Kniee nieder, 
Bereut die That und fieht um Gnad* — 

Da kehrt der Friede wieder. 
Doch schmerzt ihn auch sein kleines Herz, 

Als sie der Klempner kiisste, 
So lacht* er doch, als sei's ein Scherz, 

Wie der sie so begriisste : 

ARIE. 

Mein liebes Herz, ich klopfe Erz, 

Zerbroch'ne Kessel flick* ich, 
Und weit und breit die Christenheit 

Kennt mich als sehr geschicklich. 
Fur blankes Geld zog ich ins Feld 

Und suchte Ruhm und Ehre — 
Doch rief mich wer zum Flicken her, 

Entlief ich aus dem Heere. 

Dem Knirps und Wicht, dem folge nicht, 

Lass dudeln ihn und tanzen, 
Such' einen aus im groben Flaus, 

Mit Schiirze und mit Ranzen ! 
Mein Bibelbuch ist dieser Krug, 

Drauf schwor* ich treu und bieder : 
Bist je in Not du ohne Brot, 

Trink' ich kein Schlucklein weider ! 

RECITATIV. 

Der Klempner siegt : die Sch5ne sank 

In seinen Arm zum Lohn, 
Aus Liebe teils, und teils auch trank 

Sie einen Rausch sich schon. 
Herr Violino zeigte sich 

Als ein gescheiter Mann, 
Wiinscht' ihnen Gliick und neigte sich 

Und stiess mit ihnen an 

Auf ihr Wohl heut Nacht 






THE JOLLY BEGGARS 41 

Doch Kobold Amor zielte jetzt 

'ner Dam' ins Herz hinein : 
Der Fiedler hat sich bass ergetzt 

Abseits mit ihr allein. 
Ihr Herr, vom Zipperlein geplagt, 

Ein fahrender Sangersmann, 
Kam humpelnd an, hat toll gelacht 

Und bot ein Liebesstandchen an 
Dem Paar heut Nacht. 

Der ward der Sorgen allzeit Herr, 

That manchen tiefen Trunk, 
Und driickt' ihn auch das Schicksal schwer, 

Sein Herz blieb immer jung. 
Er wiinschte nichts als — froh zu sein, 
Ihn qualte nur — der Durst allein, 
Er hasste nichts als — traurig sein, 
Und so gab ihm die Muse ein 
Dies Lied heut Nacht : 

ARIE. 

Es hort mich nicht, es ehrt mich nicht 

Die feine Welt, trotz alledem, 
Das Volk jedoch, das halt mich hoch 

Und lauft mir nach, trotz alledem. 

CHOR. 

Trotz alledem und alledem 

Und noch einmal : trotz alledem ; 
1st eine fort, steh'n zwei schon dort, 

Hab' Madels genug trotz alledem. 

Nie war ich dort am Musenort, 

Am Helikon, trotz alledem : 
Hier strSmt er hell, hier schaumt mein Quell, 

Hier trink* ich mit, trotz alledem. 

Mein Herz gehort den Frauen wert, 

Ich bin ihr Sklav, trotz alledem ; 
Doch folg* ich gem dem Wort des Herm 

Und bin ihr Herr, trotz alledem. 



42 



BURNS IN GERMAN 

In siisser Lust und Brust an Brust 
Ruh*n heut wir hier, trotz alledem ; 

Doch ward, wie's Brauch, die Glut zu Rauch, 
Dann heisst's Ade, trotz alledem. 

Gar fein und schlau hat manche Frau 

Mich angefiihrt, trotz alledem 
Die SchOnen hoch I Ich lieb* sie doch, 

Die Madels all' trotz alledem ! 

CHOR. 

Trotz alledem und alledem 

Und noch einmal : trotz alledem, 

Mein bestes Blut mit frohem Mut 
Lass' ich fur sie, trotz alledem ! 

RECITATIV. 

So sang der Barde, und im Haus 
Erscholl ein donnernder Applaus 
Und ging von Mund zu Mund ; 
Sie gaben Geld und Lumpen her, 
Kaum blieb was fur die Blosse mehr 

Und fiir den durst'gen Schlund. 
Dann wieder rief der lust'ge Chor, 

Und ward zu schrei'n nicht miid' : 
Zum Danke such' uns nun hervor 
Dein allerschonstes Lied ! 
Und frohlich und selig, 

Ein Weib in jedem Arme, 
Aufsprang er und sang er, 

Und still ward's rings im Schwarme. 

ARIE. 

Lustig im zerlumpten Kreise 
Steigt des Punsches Dampf empor, 

Singet rings die tolle Weise 
Jubelnd alle mit im Chor t 



THE JOLLY BEGGARS 43 

CHOR. 

Ich pfeife auf die Tugendwichte I 

Freihcit ist mein Feldgeschrei ! 
Fiir Memmen schuf man die Gerichte, 

Kirchen fiir die Kierisei. 

Was sind Titel ? Was sind Schatze ? 

Macht ein guter Ruf mich froh ? 
Wenn ich leb* und mich ergetze, 

Frag* ich nimmer wie ? und wo ? 

Keck erheucheln Leid und Schmerzen 

Wir am Tage sender Scheu, 
Und zur Nacht in Scheunen herzen 

Wir die Liebste auf dem Heu. 

Fahren Reiche in Karossen 

Leichter wohl als wir durchs Land ? 
Hat ein Eh'bett je umschlossen, 

Wonnen, die wir nicht gekannt ? 

Kunterbunt ist dieses Leben, 

Wie ihr's treibt, was liegt daran ? 
Der mag zimpem, zagen, beben, 

Der 'nen Ruf verlieren kann. 

Hoch der Schnappsack ! Hoch der Bettel ? 

Hoch der ganze Wandertross ! 
Kind und Kegel, Dirn' und Vettel ! 

Amen schreie Klein und Gross ? 

CHOR. 

Ich pfeife auf die Tugendwichte I 

Freiheit ist mein Feldgeschrei ! 
Fiir Memmen schuf man die Gerichte, 

Kirchen fiir die Kierisei 1 



44 



BURNS IN GERMAN 



^am o' Chanter. 

Let us turn to "Tam o* Shanter." This master- 
piece shows Burns in one of his very finest veins. He 
has put into it so much of himself, so much of contem- 
porary rustic life and feeh'ng, such a happy hovering 
between the world of reality and the world of fancy, that 
we naturally look for the translator at his best, and expect 
him to put forth his highest efforts. The poem has only 
attracted three of our German translators : L. G. Silber- 
gleit, A, V. Winterfeld, and E. Ruete — if indeed 
Silbergleit*s can be called a translation. This writer pre- 
serves little of the meanings or characteristics of the 
piece; but prefers, instead of a translation, to offer what 
is really a weak imitation, although here and there it 
appears as if a translation were meant I give a few 
verses as a fair example of the translation idea. 

" Inspiring, bold John Barleycorn ! 
What dangers thou canst make us scorn ! 
Wi' tippenny, we fear nae evil ; 
Wi' usquebae, we*ll face the devil ! — 
The swats sae ream'd in Tammie's noddle, 
Fair play, he car'd na deils a boddle. 
But Maggie stood right sair astonished, 
Till, by the heel and hand admonish'd, 
She ventured forward on the light ; 
And, wow ! Tam saw an unco sight ! 
Warlocks and witches in a dance ; 
Nae cotillon brent new frae France, 
But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels 
Put life and mettle in their heels. 
At winnock-bunker in the east, 
There sat Auld Nick, in shape o' beast; 
A towzie tyke, black, grim, and large, 
To gi'e them music was his charge : 
He screwed the pipes and gart them skirl. 
Till roof and rafters a' did dirl 1 " 



TAM ff SHANTEK 4. 

He offers — 

" Hcil Gcrstensaft ! Heil dir Hans Gerstenkorn, 
D«r SSttigung, der Kraft, des Muthes Born. 
So machtig schaumt der Muth dem Tarn im Kopfe, 
Dass er den Bdsen packen kiinnt' am Schopfe. 
Doch sie, die Nichts getrunken hatte, Meg 
Ward scheu, als hatt' sie einen grossen Schreck, 
Bis sie von Tarn ermahnt mit Faust und Fuss, 
Doch endlich hin zur hellcn Kirchc muss. 
Der Reiter stieg von seines Rosses Riicken, 
Um besser in die Kirche hin zu blicken. 
Da sab er einen Ball von grimraen Geistem, 
Von alten Hexen, und von Hexenmeistem. 
Es war kein Modetanz aus Frankreich, neu, 
Nur Springen, vaterlandisch, mancherlei. 
Der Teufel sass auf einem Brelt am Fenster 
Und machte die Musik fur die Gespcnster, 
Als Ziegenbock gekleidet und im Fracfc, 
So spielte er auf einem Dudelsack 
Viel Varialionen und Etiiden, 

1 der Hiircr zu enniiden."' 



' Hail, Bailey juice 1 Hail to Ihee, John Baileycorn ! 
The fountain of satiety, of power, of courage 1 
So mightily foamed the courage in Tain's head 
That he could have seized the Evil One by the nape of the neck ; 
But she — Meg — who had drunk nothing, 
Was tirooTous, as if she were greatly frightened. 
Until she was admonished by Tarn with fist and foot. 
And forced at last foiward to Ihe church. 
The rider alighted from his horse's back 
Id order to see better into the church. 
There he saw a Ball of grini ghosts, 
Of old witches and wizards. 
It was no lashionable dance new from France: 
Only leaps — fatherland ish, and of various kinds. 
The Devil sat on a board by Ihe window 
And made music for the ghosts. 
As a he-goal clothed, and in a dress coat. 
He played upon the bagpipe 
Many variations and studies. 
To tire the most lively of the hearers. 



46 BURNS IN GERMAN 

This is the very acme of absurdity if meant in earnest for 
a translation of the actual poem, only exceeded perhaps by a 
number of outrages committed on some of the other verses \ 
but indeed it is evidently not intended as a serious attempt 
at translation. The author makes Tam ride to instead of 
from Ayr (although he has him sitting in Ayr before the 
ride). He makes Kate foretell that Tam would be fished 
out of a pond. The genial picture portrayed by Bums, 

"The landlord's laugh was ready chorus," 

is omitted, and instead of his jovial laugh there is substi- 
tuted the vulgar remark that " the landlady laughed herself 
nearly dead." He makes Tam dismount to look into the 
church. He departs from the metre and distorts every 
picture so inimitably drawn in the original, and finally adds 
five doggerel verses at the end explaining that the foregoing 
poem was Tam's tale, but that the real fact was, that, whilst 
Tam was lingering at his cups, a band of boys had pulled 
out Meg's tail, hair by hair, which Tam never missed until 
he got home, and then invented the story to screen his 
own delinquencies. Well 1 he might have told Tam's story 
properly; or, if he wished to turn it into a weak, waggish 
burlesque, he ought to have indicated this in some way, 
and not have led those unacquainted with the poem 
in the original, or through other translations, to take his 
jocular production for a translation of this matchless piece. 
VVinterfeld attempts at least to treat his original seriously. 
He adheres to the metre, and in many cases reproduces the 
work with considerable fidelity, but the general result is 
completely spoiled by many weak lines, and by errors which 
the least care might have avoided. For instance, 
"Und trinkt sich eine rothe Nase,**^ 

' And drinks himself a red nose. 



TAM ff SHANTER 4; 

is a miserable rendering of 

"An' getting fou and unco happy." 
Then 

" Tarn lo'ed him like a vera bricher ; 
They had been fou for weeks thegither. 
The night drave on wi' sangs and clatter; 
And aye the ale was growing better," 

is not only weakly, but quite incorrectly rendered. The 

last line has a totally wrong construction put upon it ; 

and, indeed, this remark might be applied to all the four 

lines. 

"Tarn liebte ihn mit glijhn'den Flammen, 
Acht Tage war'n sie schon beisammen, 
Steis durstig wie zwei alte Fasser, 
Und taglich ward das Ale noch besser." ' 

Even worse, and not in good taste, does he render 

" The landlady and Tarn grew gracious, 
Wi' favours, secret, sweet, and precious: 
The Souter tauld his queerest stories ; 
The landlord's laugh was ready chorus," 
by 

"Tam und die Wirthin wurden warm, 
£r schlang um ihren Leib den Arm, 
John Souter wurde immer witi'ger, 
Tam und die Wirthin immer hiti'ger."* 



'Tam loved him wilh a glowing flame; 
They were atieady eight days logethei; 
Always thirsty like two old casks, 
And daily the ale got better, 

*TBm and the landlady grew waim. 
Around her walsl he threw his aim ; 
John Souter became ever wittier ; 
Tam and the landlady ever hotter. 



48 



BURNS IN GERMAN 



The landlOTd is again banished from the picture, and 
his characteristic laugh is lost 
The pungent lines 

"Care, mad to see a man sae happy, 
E'en drown'd himsel' amang the nappy," 
aie not recognisable in 

"Wohl sellen war ctn Mann so selig 
Am Wirthshaustisch so froh und wahlich." ' 
This shows both weakness and carelessness as com- 
pared with & Ruete's literal rendering — 
"Die Sorge sah's und rasend schier 
Ersaufte sic sich flugs im Bier."' 
Then 

"The deil had business on his hand," 
is wretchedly rendered by 

" Dass Hexen auf den Beinen sind." * 
Whilst 

" The ^wats sae ream'd in Tammie's noddle "■ 
can only by sheer carelessness be rendered 

"Der Schweii rann schon von Tammie's StitiL"' 
Equally careless and more absurd is 

"And coost her duddies to the wark, 
And linkel at it in her sark I" 
rendered by 

" Und warfen ihre Hemdeii Sstt, — 
Nun geht's daohnc— auf mein Wort" I* 

'A man was indeed seldom to happy 

. At the table of on Inn, so gUd and Jovial. 

'Cace «avr it, and perfectly mar^ 

Drowned herself quickly in the beet. 
'That witches are on Iheir legs. 
•The perspiraiion already ran from Tammie's brow, 
'And cast away their shifts. 

And went on at it without them — upon my word I 



^ 




-w ■♦ — ■•' 



TAM (f SHANTER 



49 



No ! Mr. Winterfeld, we don't take your word ! for it 
does not agree with that of Burns. He makes the witches 
show a little more decency, and you also contradict 
yourself in the following third line by telling the quality 
of that particular garment which they wore. 

Mr. Ruete renders this quite literally, without difficulty, 

"Da rissen sie vom Leib die Kleider 
Und tanzten bloss im Hemde waiter"!* 

Mr. Winterfeld lays upon poor Nannie a crime which 
Bums does not add to her many delinquencies, nor even 
hint at, viz., 

** Macht Manchem untreu seine Frau " ; ' 
but towards the end he seems to get helplessly mbced, 
and renders 

"Ah, little kenn'd thy reverend grannie," 
by the inane line — 

"Ah! Guten Morgen, Mutter Grannie"!^ 

and then mixes up Auld Nick, Nannie, and her Grannie 
in hopeless confusion. Instead of Tam's well-known 
exclamation, " Weel done, Cutty-sark ! " which brought 
about the denouement, Mr. Winterfeld makes him cry 
out, " Brav, alter Nick " ! (Bravo ! Auld Nick), carefully 
explaining by a foot note that "Auld Nick" means 
the Devil. It is, according to this translation, not 
Nannie but her dead old grandmother who pursues Tam, 
and pulls off Maggie's tail, which, even to those who do 
not know the original, cannot but seem ridiculous. I 
cannot on account of these grave defects and proofs of 

^Then tore off their clothes from their bodies 

And danced on only in "their sarks." 
'Makes to many a one his wife unfaithfuL 

'Ah I good morning — Mother Grannie. 

D 



50 BURNS IN GERMAN 

carelessness insert this version, especially as Mr. Ruete 
has succeeded in giving a really good rendering of this 
difficult poem. He fails somewhat in one or two places. 

"Und nah beim Gotteshaus, am Sonntag 
Lagst du im Wirthshaus bis zum Montag"!^ 

loses the activity of Bums's picture — 

"That at the Lord's house, ev'n on Sunday, 
Thou drank wi' Kirkton Jean till Monday." 

It is remarkable that not one of the translators 
renders correctly the line 

"Thou drank wi' Kirkton Jean till Monday." 
Mr. Silbergleit gives it 

" Auch mit dem Kiister trinke bis zum Montag " ; ' 
Mr. Winterfeld falls into the same error, 

" Du trankst mit Kiister-Jamie bis zum Montag," ^ 

whilst Mr. Ruete throws overboard the whole of this 
aggravated offence, and, as we have seen, lays Tam drunk 
in the ale house. In the French translations the affair 
is even more ludicrously treated. 

It is rather surprising to see an evidently keen 
observer like Ruete fall into the same error as Silbergleit 
and Winterfeld, and represent Tarn as having dismounted 
at the Auld Kirkj indeed, the ending of one or two 
lines and other indications seem to show that Mr. Ruete 
must have read at least Mr. Silbergleit*s work before 
printing his own, and been misled accordingly. Then 
his line in the closing moral, 

'And near to God's house on the Sunday 
You lay in the beerhouse until Monday. 
^Also with the sexton drinks till Monday. 
' Thou drankest with Sexton Jamie till Monday. 



TAM a SHANTER 



5' 



"Dem rat' ich, wenn's ihn nicht verdriesst," * 
is too weak for 

"Ilk man and mother's son, take heed." 
However, these are small defects in a really good trans- 
lation. 

TAM a SHANTER, 

E. RUKTE. 

Wenn sich gemach die Laden schliessen 
Und Nachbam diirstig sich begriissen — 
Die Sonne sank, der Markt ist aus, 
Die Menge wandert miid' nach Haus — 
Dieweil wir um den Biertisch sitzen 
Und seelenfroh uns sacht bespitzen, 
Wer denkt da an die Meilenstrecken, 
Die Moore, Briiche, Knicke, Hecken, 
Durch die es heimzukommen gilt. 
Wo uns're Alte sitzt und schilt, 
Die Stirne zieht in finst're Falten 
Und ihren Groll nicht lasst erkalten ! 

Das war's, was Tarn o* Shanter dachte, 
Als er von Ayr spat heimwarts jagte : 
Alt-Ayr ! Es hat kein zweites Stadtchen 
So wack're Manner, schdne Madchen ! 

O Tarn ! Das war nicht wohlgethan I 
Was nahmst du guten Rat nicht an ? 
Oft sprach dein Weib, du seist zu locker, 
Ein Schwatzer, Tagdieb, Kneipenhocker, 
Hattst Scham fiir einen Heller nicht, 
Hattst jeden Markttag dich bepicht, 
Hattst du mal Korn zu Geld gemacht, 
Vertrankest du's dieselbe Nacht, 
Und wenn der Schmied dein Pferd beschliige, 
Gleich leertet ihr ein Dutzend Kriige, 
Und nah beim Gotteshaus, am Sonntag, 
Lagst du im Wirtshaus bis zum Montag ! 

^ I advise him if he won't take it amiss. 



52 BUNNS IN GERMAN 

Sie prophezeite, dass man bald 
Dich fand' im Doon ganz steif und kalt, 
Auch holt' ein Spuk dich wohl bei Nacht 
Dort, wo die Geisterkirche ragt. 

Ach, zarte Datnen, 's ist ein Jammer, 
Wie an den Rat in stiller Kammer, 
Wie an die langsten weisen Lehren 
Der Frau'n die Manner sich nicht kehren ! 

Zuriick zu Tarn 1 In einer Nacht 
Hat ihm sein Platz so recht behagt 
Dicht an dem Feu'r, das Funken spriihte, 
Bei schaum'gem Bier von selt'ner Giite 
Und ihm zur Seite Schuster Jan, 
Sein alter, durstiger Kumpan : 
Tarn war er wie ein Bruder teuer, 
Seit Wochen zechten sie schon heuer. 
Die Nacht flog hin bei Sang und Toben, 
Das Bier war immer mehr zu loben : 
Die Wirtin that an Tam sich schmiegen, 
Da gab es Wonnen, siiss, verschwiegen. 
Jan tischte auf die tollsten Sachen, 
Laut scholl dazu des Wirtes Lachen, 
Wild liess der Sturm sich draussen horen, 
Doch Tam vermocht* er nicht zu storen. 

Die Sorge sah's, und rasend schier 
Ersaufte sie sich flugs im Bier. 
Wie Bienen heim mit Schatzen fliegen, 
Floh'n die Minuten vol! Vergniigen : 
Tam schlug als Sieger aus dem Feld 
Die tj bei alle dieser Welt ! 

Doch ach ! Die Lust ist wie ein Mohn, 
Gepfliickt kaum, welkt die Blute schon ; 
Und wie im Strom der weisse Schimmer 
Des Schnees : er fallt und schmilzt fiir immer ; 
Und wie der Nordlichtstrahlen Pracht, 
Die flammend zucken durch die Nacht; 



TAM O' SHANTER 

Wie Regenbogens Farbenglut, 
HiDscbwindend vor der Stiirme WuL 
Wer bringt den Strom der Zeit lum Steh'n ? 
Es naht die Siunde: Tam muss geh'n ! 
Just um die finsi're Mitternacht 
Ward ihm sein Gaul vors Thor gcbracht, 
Und eine Nacht war's, wo lum Haus 
Sich keine Seele wagt hinaus. 

Es blies der Wind wie toll vor Wut, 
Vera Himmel stiinte Flut auf Flut ; 
Den iliicht'gen Blitz die Nacht verschlang, 
Der Donner krachte laut und lang ; 
In dieser Nacht, ein Kind sah's ein, 
Musst* unterwegs der Teufel sein. 

Auf Crete, seiner grauen Mahr — 
'ne bess're find'st du nimmermehr — 
Hintrabie Tam durch Kot und Pfiitzen 
Und liess es regnen, weh'n und blitien ; 
Bald dnickt' er fest die Mviti" aufs Ohr, 
Bald summt* er sich ein Liedlein vor. 
Bald spahi' er um sich scharfen Blicks, 
Dass ihn kein GeisC pack' hinterriicks. 
Die Kirche war nicht fern, wo Eulen 
Allnachtlich und Gespenster heulen. 

Schon hatte Tam den Sumpf im RiJcken, 
Darin der Kramer musst' ersticken. 
Den Steinblock auch im Birkenhag, 
Wo Peter Schnaps dcn Hals sich bracfa; 
Und duTch das Dickicht ritt er mutig. 
Wo man das Kind fand tot und blutigi 
Am Baum ist er vorbeigesprengt, 
Dran Mungos Mutter sich erbangt 
Dort vor sich htirt den Doon er brausen 
Und durcfa den Wald den Sturmwind sausen. 

Die Blitze zucken jahlings, lohend. 
Die Donner grollen unheildrohend : 



54 



BC/RNS IN GERMAN 

Da schimmert aus der Baume Kranz 
Die Kirche her in hellem Glanz, 
Aus jeder Ritze drang der Schein, 
Der Schall von Tanzen, Jubeln, Schrei'n. 

Wen du beseelst, o Gerstensaft, 
Der fiihlt zu jedem Wagnis Kraft ! 
Ein Glaschen Bier — weg sind die Zweifel ; 
Ein echter Korn— du trotzt dem Teufel ! 
Wild schaumt' in Tammies Kopf das Bier, 
Die Teufel all verlacht' er schier. 
Erstaunt war Grete steh'n geblieben, 
Bis sie, von Fuss und Hand getrieben, 
Dem Lichte nach sich setzt in Trab : 
Ei, was es da zu schauen gab ! 

Da tanzten Hexen sonder Scheu, 
Kein welscher Tanz war's, funkelneu, 
Nein Rutscher-, Landler-, Walzerweise, 
So drehten sie sich froh im Kreise. 
Dort sass in Tiergestalt am Fenster 
Der Fiirst der Geister und Gespenster, 
Ein grosser, zott'ger, schwarzer Koter 
Und spielte auf, der Schwerenoter : 
Es bebte bei dem schrillen Schalle 
Des Dudelsacks die Kirchenhalle. 
Rings sah man Sarg an Sarg gereiht 
Und Tote drin im Sterbekleid, 
In deren kalter Knochenhand 
Hat — H511enspuk !— ein Licht gebrannt ! 

So kam's, dass Tam, den nichts erschreckte, 
Alsbald auf dem Altar entdeckte : 
'nen M5rder, schwer behiingt mit Eisen, 
Nebst ungetauften kleinen Waisen, 
'nen Dieb, geschnitten frisch vom S trick, 
Mit ofTnem Mund, verglastem Blick, 
Fiinf Aexte auch, die Blut gekostet, 
Fiinf Sabel, die vom Mord verrostet, 
Ein Strumpfband, das ein Kind erstickt, 
Ein Messer, das ein Sohn geziickt 



TAM SHANTER 

Auf seines Vaiers Haupt und Leben, 
Noch sah am Heft man Haare kleben — 
Und vieles andre, grasslich, greulich, 
Ei nuT zu nennen, war' abscbeulich I 

Lang starrte Tarn dies Schauspiel an, 
Als wilder noch der Tani begann : 
Die Pfeifen kreischten hell und heller, 
Die Paare flogen scbnell und schneller, 
Sie sprangen, jagten, drangten, stampflen, 
Bis alle scbier vor Hitze dampften : 
Da rissen sie vom Leib die Kleider 
Und tanzten bloss im Hemde weiter 1 

Ja, waren's Madel. Tammie, niedlich 
Und frtsch und drall und appetltlich, 
Die Hemden statt aus schmulz'gem graiien 
Sackleineti schneeweiss anzuschauen — 
Die Hosen hier, mein einz'gea Paar, 
Schon blau einst und von Sammet gar, 
Die giib' ich flugs mit frohem Sinn 
Fur eineti Blick der Schtinen bin 1 
Doch spindeldiitTC alte Weiber, 
Verdammier Hexen ekle Leiber, 
Hinsausend auf dem Besenstiel : 
Ward's deinecn Magen nicht zu viel ? 

Doch Tarn war keineswe^js voo Sinnen ; 

Er sah ein hiibsches Dirnlein drinnen, 

Heut Nacht erst war sie eingereiht. 

Bald kannte man sie weit und breit : 

Denn Kuh' und Pferde schoss sie tot 

Und bohrt' in C-rund gar manches Boot, 

Verdarb das Korn auf weite Strecken 

Und hielt das Land in Furcht und Schrecken. 

Ihi kurzes Hemd, ich muss es sagen, 

Das sie als kleines Kind getragen, 

Mic dessen Lange war's so so, 

Sie aber trug es keck und frob. 

Nicht traumt' es Hannchens Miitterlein, 

Als sie dies Hemdchen kaufie ein. 



56 BUIiNS IN GERMAN 

Dass auf dem Hexenball ihr Kind 
Drin tanzen wiirde wie der Wind ! 

Hier senkt mein Pegasus die Schwingen, 
Wie kbnnt* ihm solch ein Flug gelingen, 
Zu singen, wie schon Hannchen sprang, 
— Geschmeidig war sie, nicht zu lang — 
Wie Tam, versunken in Entziicken, 
Sie fast verschlang mit seinen Blicken ! 
Auch Satan schielte gem nach ihr 
Und blies aus Leibeskraften schier. 
Ein Luftsprung jetzt, ein zweiter dann, 
Nun war's um Tarn's Verstand gethan, 
Er schrie ihr : " Bravo Kurzhemd I " zu, 
Da — all der Glanz verlosch im Nu ; 
Kaum hat sich Tam aufs Pferd geschwungen. 
So kam das Hollenheer gesprungen. 

Wie Bienen aus dem Stocke brechen, 
Den frechen Rauber zu zerstechen ; 
Und wie entflieht der bange Hase 
Den Jagem grade vor der Nase ; 
Und wie vom Markt die Menge rennt, 
Sobald der Ruf ertSnt : es brennt ! — 
So rennt die Crete, und mit Schrei'n 
Die Hexen alle hinterdrein. 

O Tam, zum Lohn fiir deine Thaten 
Wirst bald du in der Holle braten ! 
Vergebens harret Kathe dein, 
Dein Weib wird bald 'ne Wittib sein ! 
Nun, Crete, lauf, so schnell du kannst, 
Wenn du die Briicke nur gewannst, 
Dann hebe stolz den Schweif empor, 
Weil dort der Spuk die Macht verlor. 
Doch eh' die Briicke sie genommen, 
War sie um ihren Schweif gekommen. 
Denn Hannchen, die voraus der Schar 
Und hart auf Gretes Fersen war, 
Verfolgte Tam mit wilder Wut, 
Doch wilder noch war Gretes Mut : 



TAM a SHANTER 

Ein letzter Sprung — und Tarn war frei ; 
Doch sie verlor den Schneif dabei : 
Die Hexe packt' ihn dicht am Kumpf 
Und liess der Grete kaum 'nen Stumpf. 

Wer dieses wahrc Marlein licst, 
Dem rat' ich, wenn's ihn nicht verdriesst : 
Zieht's dich einmal zum Biere bin, 
Fahrt dir ein Kurzhemd durch den Sinn, 
Denk' : ist die Lust des Preises wert ? 
Vergiss nicht Tarn o Shanters Herd 1 



"Death and Dr. Hornbook" has only been attempted 
by Silbergleit, under the title of "Tod und Quacksalber " 
(Death and the Quack), and a poor performance it is. 
or the thirty-one verses of which the poem consists, 
eleven of the most important are omitted, and the plot, 
meaning, and intention, indeed everything that char- 
acterizes Burns's work, are lost in the twenty verses which 
are supposed to be translated, but of which one may 
say to Silbergleit as Macpherson said to the old man 

who repeated Ossian, "D n you, this is yersel, it's 

not Ossian." For instance, the inimitable verse — 
" The Clachan yill bad made nie canty, 
I was na fou, but just had plenty ; 
1 stacher'd whyles, but yet took tent aye 

To free the ditches ; 
An' hillocks, slanes, an' bushes kenn'd aye 
Frae ghaists an' witches, 

is transformed into the following phantasmagoria of the 
translator's own imagination — 

"Einst batt' im Krug ich einen Zwist 
Mit dem Magister Organist, 



58 BURNS IN GERMAN 

Der nebenbei ein Artzt auch ist, 
Dieweil der Lehrstand 
Ihnif sagt er, kaum das Leben frist\ 
Ein schlechter Nahrstand. 

''Vom Krug ging ich nach Haus alleine 
Erfrischt, nicht allzusehr, ich meine, 
Ob wankend auch, doch meiner Beine 
Noch immer Meister. 
Ich hielt die Berge, Biische, Steine 
Noch nicht fur Geister."* 

This is a sample of the manner in which the rest is 
treated, whilst the utter absurdity of the work is shown 
by the following two verses tacked on by the translator — 

** Sein Trug ihn selbst zum Narren macht, 
Und— eben da schlug's Mitternacht. 
Ich, plotzlich aus dem Traum erwacht, 
Die Augen rieb. 

Dann ging ich meiner Wege sacht 
Der Tod verblieb. 

" Und was er mir gesagt im Traum 
Ist eitel Bosheit, Liigenscbaum, 
Man spricht so vieL Ich glaub' es kaunL 
Die bose Mahr 



^Once in the alehouse I had a quarrel 
With the Master Organist, 
Who besides was also Doctor, 
Because the teaching profession 
He said scarcely gave him a livelihood, 
A bad working-man's position. 

From the alehouse I went home alone, 

Refreshed, not too much ; I think, 

If even reeling— yet of my legs 

Was still always master. 

I did not take the mountains, bushes, and stones 

As yet for ghosts. 



DEATH AND DR. HORNBOOK 59 

Gewinnet leicht bei Menschen Raum, 
Die gute schwer."^ 

I daresay the reader also '* Die Augen rieb " on reading 
such a rigmarole offered as a translation of Bums. Mr. 
Silbergleit had every right, of course, to publish such 
stuff if he chose, but it is not creditable to send it forth 
as a pretended translation of Burns. It is dishonouring 
alike to the poet and to the German public. 



^he ^tD2t ^og0. 

** The Twa Dogs " seems only to have tempted two of 
our authors, which is rather to be regretted, seeing it is 
so thoroughly representative of Bums in one of his best 
styles. Mr. Ruete's version, though, as will be seen, very 
good, is marred by the translator having missed some of 
the finest touches in the poem. Take, for instance, 

" Our Whipper-in, wee blastit wonner. 
Poor worthless elf, it eats a dinner 
Better than ony tenant man." 

The concentrated essence of contempt and dislike com- 

^ His imposture makes a fool of himself, 
And — ^just then it struck midnight. 
I suddenly awoke from my dream, 
Rubbed my eyes. 
I then went quietly my own way, 
Death remained. 

And what he told me in a dream 

Is vain, lying foam of spite ; 

So much is said, I scarce believe it. 

The wicked tale 

Gains place easily with men, 

The good one with difficulty. 



6o BURNS IN GERMAN 

prised in these first two lines — crowned by the **it" 
instead of ** he " — is a miracle of weakness rendered by 

"Der Hundttjung; der Jammerwicht, 
Kriegt taglich solch ein fein Gericht,"^ 

and the picture of the relationship between the dogs and 
the Whipper-in is to this extent entirely lost And for 

** Love blinks, Wit slaps, an' social Mirth 
Forgets there's care upo' the earth," 

he is not very happy in reproducing Bums's terse descrip- 
tion, nor does he give quite the idea by 

" Man jubelt laut und lacht und liebt 
Und weiss nicht, dass es Sorge giebt."' 

He leaves out " Thrang a-parliamentinV' which destroys 
the clearness of Bums's picture, and the following few lines 
as to the weak-kneedness of the M.P.s, 

" Dem Wohl des Landes ? Dem Verderben 
Weiht er sich selbst und seine Erben ! ** ^ 

are a feeble and quite incorrect rendering of 

" For Britain's guid ! — for her destruction ! 
Wi' dissipation, feud, and faction." 

Then in rendering 

" Except for breaking o* their timmer. 
Or speaking lightly o* their limmer," 

he entirely misses the poet's meaning — 

" So einer lasst wohl Baume fallen, 
Und schilt die Riiden, wenn sie bellen."* 

^The dog-boy, miserable wretch, 

Gets daily such a splendid meal. 
'They shout loudly, laugh, and love, 

And know not there's such a thing as care. 
'His country's good? To destruction 

He dedicates himself and his heirs. 
* If one may let trees be felled. 

And scolds the bitches when they bark. 



THE TWA DOGS 61 

There are a few instances where the renderings, possibly 
for the sake of making the meaning more in accordance 
with Gennan customs or clearer to Germans, are com- 
pletely changed, such as 

"An' whyles twalpennie wonh o' nappy" 
and 

" The nappy reeks wi' mantling ream," 

which lose their peculiar charm in 

" Und giebt's einmal ein Schtippchen Bier"' 
and 

"Ein wannes Bier dampft auf dem Tisch";' 
whilst 

" Haith, lad, ye little ken about it," 

is badly translated by 

"Holla, mein Freund, was falh dir ein?"* 
and 

"Hech man! dear sirs!" 
by 

"f, was Ihr sagt"?* 

Weaknesses such as the above seem unavoidable, as 
these expressions, like so many, are untranslatable in 
meaning or power; and if in these cases the translator 
seems to have failed, there are other portions which are 
rendered with fidelity and beauty. 

Mr. Silbergleit's rendering displays the characteristics 
of his attempt at the "Holy Fair" and "Death and Dr. 
Hornbook." A few verses are faithful and really very 
good; otJiers are mote like burlesques of the original, 
whilst every now and again he interpolates verses of his 
own, which completely change the meaning of the piece, 
and then again he omits important lines essential to the full 

'And sometimes there is > small tankard of beer. 
'Mulled beer steams on the table. 
'Hullo! my friend, what is the matter 7 
* Aye, what are you saying? 



62 BURNS IN GERMAN 

and proper meaning of the poem. I give a few of his 

renderings to show these defects — 

'* Im Schottenlande, wo und wann, 
Es kommt hier wenig darauf an."^ 

Perhaps it is of little consequence to him. Burns did 

not seem to think so, and it is abusing the license of a 

translator to give this forth as the German equivalent for 

"Twas in that place o* Scotland's isle 
That bears the name o' Auld King Coil," 

and which Ruete renders so correctly. Then 

"Aus Neufundland, da stammte er, 
Da wo der Stockfisch auch kommt her.'^^ 

is really too tautological and weak for 

"Whalpit some place far abroad, 
Where sailors gang to fish for cod/ 

Whilst 

" Und dann und wann geplaudert gem. 

So von den Freunden und den Herren •* 

completely destroys the idea and meaning of 

"An* there began a lang digression 
About the lords o' the creation." 

Indeed, the translator by these lines entirely ignores the 

particular incident he has already introduced and is about 

to describe. Then he utterly departs from Burns's powerful 

picture — 

"An' whyles twalpennie worth o' nappy 

Can mak* the bodies unco happy ; 

They lay aside their private cares. 

To mind the Kirk and State affairs : 

^ In Scotland, where and when, 

Is of litde consequence here. 
• From Newfoundland he is descended, 

There, where codfish also come from. 
'And now and then gladly chatted 

About their friends and masters. 



THE TWA DOGS 63 

They'll talk o' patronage an' priests, 
Wi' kindling fury i' their breasts, 
Or tell what new taxation's comin, 
An' ferlie at the folk in Lon'on. 

"As bleak-fac'd Hallowmas returns. 
They get the jovial, ranting kirns. 
When rural life o' ev'ry station, 
Unite in common recreation ; 
Love blinks. Wit slaps, an' social Mirth 
Forgets there's Care upo' the earth." 

Or, if he does not entirely depart from Burns, he at least 
makes him utterly unrecognizable in 

" Der Trank ist billig und erquicklich, 
Fiir Wenig wird man ijberglucklich. 
Dabei vergisst man seinen Harm, 
Man wird so weise, wird so warm. 
Man spricht von Kirche und von Staat, 
Von Schultheis, Alderman, und Rath. 
Warum wohl ist das Brod so theuer, 
Wozu wohl die, und jene Steuer. 

" Und kommt es dann um Allerseelen, 
Dann darf der Ernteschmaus nicht fehlen, 
Dann ist das Landvolk jeder Art 
Zu Lustbarkeiten froh gepaart"^ 

I have made the translation as literal and true as possible, 



*The drink is cheap, and so refreshing, 
For little one becomes extra happy, 
By it one forgets his ills : 
He becomes so wise, and so warm, 
He speaks of Church and of State, 
Of magistrates, aldermen, and councillors ; 
Why, indeed, bread is so dear ; 
The purpose of this and that tax. 

And when it comes to Hallowmas, 

Then the harvest meal must not be wanting, 

Then the country folk of every kind 

Are paired for rejoicings. 



64 BURNS IN GERMAN 

and it seems more like a travesty than a translation of 
Bums's faithful picture of country life. 

"Lasst man in Ruh nur ihren Stolz, 
Ihr Feld, ihr Wild, ihr Gras, ihr Holz, 
Verfehlt man nicht den Zins zu geben, 
So lasst sich schon mit ihnen leben,"^ 

is what is offered for a translation of 

"Except for breaking o' their timmer, 
Or speaking lightly o' their limmer, 
Or shootin' o' a hare or moor-cock, 
The ne'er a bit they're ill to poor folk." 

Whilst 

** Dann sagten sie sich gute Nacht."^ 

is the commonplace, puerile composition offered for 

"An' each took aff his several way, 
Resolved to meet some ither day." 

A few of his renderings are, however, good. 

" Nach einem Hund im Hochlandsang 
Gedichtet, vor, wer weiss wie lang,** 

is a true reproduction of 

"After some dog in Highland sang, 
Was made lang syne — Lord knows how lang " ; 

and one or two others are equally commendable, but they 
are few, and the grave errors, weaknesses, and carelessnesses 
referred to above make it "hardly worth the while" to 
print the professed translation. I insert, however, Mr. £. 
Ruete's version, so that the reader may have an enjoyable 
reproduction of this fine poem. 

* If only one leaves in peace their pride, 
Their field, their game, their grass, their wood ; 
If one does not fail to pay the rent, 
Then it is indeed possible to live with them. 

'Then they bade each other good>night. 






THE TWA DOGS 65 

DIE BE/DEN HUNDE. 

E. RUETE. 

An einem Platz im schott'schen Land — 
Nach Konig Coil ist er benannt — 
Da trafen, frei von Muh* und Plage, 
An einem schonen Junitage, 
Nicht lange nach der Mittagstunde, 
Sich auf der Strasse einst zvvei Hunde. 
Als "Seiner Gnaden" Lieblingstier 
Nenn' ich zuerst den Casar hier, 
Der nach Statur und Schnauz* und Haar 
Klarlich nicht schott'schen Ursprungs war, 
Aus fernem Lande stammt' er her, 
Wo's Kabeljaue giebt im Meer. 

Am Hals das schmucke Messingband 
Zeigt' ihn als Herrn von Rang und Stand ; 
Doch ob er auch hochst vornehm war, 
So macht' er drum sich doch nicht rar 
Und schenkte gern ein Kosestiindchen 
Selbst einem Kesselflickerhiindchen. 
Ja, jeder noch so strupp'ge Hund 
War ihm ein hochwillkomm'ner Fund : 
Er lief mit ihm manch liebe Strecke 
Und machte Halt an jeder Ecke. 

Den andern hatt' ein Bauersmann, 
Ein lust'ger Reimschmied, zum Kumpan. 
Luath, so nannt' ihn einst, man staune ! 
Sein narr'scher Herr in Dichterlaune, 
Weil ihm aus ahem Hochlandsang 
Der Name traut im Ohre klang. 

An Treu' und Klugheit kam im Reich 

Dem K6ter kaum ein zweiter gleich. 

£r sah gar froh und bieder drein 

Und hatte Freunde, gross und klein. 

W^iss war die Brust, der Riicken war 

Bedeckt mit glanzend schwarzem Haar; 

Um seine Lenden hing gar machtig 

Ein Lockenschweif und ziert' ihn prachtig. 

£ 



66 BURNS IN GERMAN 

Die beiden liebten sich und waren 

Die dicksten Freunde schon seit Jahren. 

Sie fanden schnnppernd manchen Schmaus 

Und trieben Maus und Maulwurf aus. 

Auch zausten sie nach Hundeweise 

Sich manches Mai auf ihrer Keise, 

Bis ihnen, da sie miid' vom Spiel 

Im Sonnenschein zu ruh'n gefieL 

Vom Herrn der Schopfung hub alsdann 

Casar zu diskurieren an. 

CXSAR. 

Ich hab' eSf Luath, oft beklagt, 

Wie schwer ein Hund wie du sich plagt ; 

Und schau* ich mir den Adel an, 

Dann dauert mich der armg Mann. 

Mein Gutshcrr streicht das Pachtgeld ein, 

ZinsUiihner, Steuern obendrein, 

Steht auf, wann es ihm just gefallt, 

Lakaien springen, wenn er schellt ; 

Er fahrt zu Wagen, reitet aus, 

Hat eine Borse, ei der Daus ! 

Lang wie mein Schweif, draus schaut hervor 

Manch gelber blanker Louisd'or. 

Der Koch muss friih und spat sich placken 
Mit Schmoren, Braten, Sieden, Backen. 
Damit die Herrschaft bass sich maste ; 
Die Dienerschaft verschlingt die Reste : 
Ragouts, Gefliigel, Lachs, Salat — 
Verschwendung ist es in der That I 
Der Hundejung', der Jammerwicht, 
Kriegt taglich solch ein fein Gericht, 
Wie's nicht ein einz'ger Pachtersmann 
Im ganzen Land sich zahmen kann ; 
Und wie ein Hausler gar den Magen 
Sich stopft, das weiss ich nicht zu sagen. 

LUATH. 

Ja, so ein Hausler kennt die Not : 
Bald schaufelt er ums liebe Brot, 



THE TWA DOGS 67 

Bald hackt und grabt und leant er fleissig, 
Bald klopft er Steine und — was weiss ich I 
So nahrt sein Weib er und nicht minder 
'ne Stube voll zerlumpter Kinder, 
Und dankt doch alles, was er schafft 
Nur seiner beiden Hande Kraft. 

Und trifTt sie mal das Schicksal schwer, 
debt's Krankheit oder stirbt ihr Herr, 
Dann meint Ihr wohl, sie miissen sterben 
Vor Frost und Hunger und verderben : 
Ei, weit gefehlt ! Sie sind hienieden 
Fast immer wunderbar zufrieden, 
Und in der Hiitte wachst heran 
Manch fixe Maid, manch strammer Mann. 

CASAR. 

Ganz schon ; doch hab' ich oft geseh'n, 
Man pufft und knufft und lasst euch steh'n; 
Der Adel schiert sich, Gott im Himmel 1 
Um keinen Tagelohnerliimmel. 
Die Armen sind ihm solch ein Scheuel, 
VVie mir ein ekler Dachs ein Greuel. 

Bei unserm Herrn sah ich's mit an — 

Mein Herz, das hat mir weh gethan — 

VVie jeden, dem's an Gelde fehlt, 

Um Zahltag der Verwalter schmahlt. 

Und wie er flucht, vor Ingrimm rot, 

Und stampft und gleich mit Pfandung droht 

Demiitig horen sie das an 

Und bleich und zitternd, Mann fiir Mann 1 

Wie Reiche leben seh' ich taglich, 

Den Armen geht's doch sicher klaglich.'^ 

LUATH. 

So kliiglich, wie Ihr meint, doch nicht 
Sie schau'n ja stets ins Angesicht 
Der Armut und sind so vertraut 
Mit ihr, dass keinem davor graut 



68 BUKXS IN GERMAN 

Das Gliick hat auch die Hand im Spiel 
Und wenig ist fiir sie schon viel. 
Da*s Arbeit giebt im Ueberfluss, 
Ist kurze Rast ein Hochgenuss. 
Ihr schonstes Gliick bleibt immerdar 
Ein liebes Weib, der Kleinen Schar, 
Die durch ihr Plappem, Spielen, Lachen 
Das Haus vergniigt und traulich machen. 

Und giebt's einmal ein Schoppchen Bier, 
Dann ist man aus dem Hauschen schier, 
Halt iiber Kirch' und Staat Gericht 
Und denkt der eig'nen Sorgen nicht. 
Da reden hitzig sie und frei 
Von Patronat und Klerisei 
Und schelten auf das Par lament, 
Das nichts als neue Steuern kennt. 

Am lieben Allerseelentag 
Giebt's Kirmeslust und Trinkgelag, 
Dann sind die Grossen wie die Kleinen 
Im ganzen Kirchspiel auf den Beinen : 
Man jubelt laut und lacht und liebt 
Und weiss nicht, dass es Sorge giebt. 

Und wenn das neue Jahr beginnt, 
Schliesst man die Thiire vor dem Wind, 
Ein warmes Bier dampft auf dem Tisch, 
Das macht die Herzen froh und frisch. 
Manch Prieschen nimmt man stillbedachtig, 
Die Pfeife schmeckt den Alten prachtig 
Und geht beim Plaudem nimmer aus, 
Die Jugend larmt und tollt durchs Haus — 
Der Anblick hat mein Herz geschwellt : 
Vor Freude hab' ich mitgebellt. 

Doch habt Ihr leider nur zu recht, 
Zu oft nur geht's den Leutchen schlecht: 
Manch wack'rer Stamm von guter Art, 
Ansehnlich, fest und wetterhart, 
Ward ausgerottet, Stumpf und Stiel, 
Weil's einem Buben so gefiel. 



THE TWA DOGS 

Der meint, dass er durch solche Kunst 
Sich schleicht in seines Freiherrn Gunst, 
Der doch die beste Kraft und Zeit 
Dem Wohl des Vaterlandes weiht— 



Holla, mein Freund, was fallt dir ein, 

Dem Wohl des Vaterlandes ? Nein ! 

Was der Minister will, das thut er, 

Sagt Ja, sagt Nein auf Wunsch, mein GutCT) 

Besucht Thealer und Parade 

Und spielt und geht zur Maskerade. 

Auch fiihrt er wohl im Handumdreh'n 

Zutn Kontinent, die Welt zu seh'n, 

Auf dass Paris und Wien ihn lehrt 

Bon ton und was dam gehort. 

Schnell werden dort bei Tag und Nacht 

Des Vaters Giiter durchgebrachL 

Den Stierkampf und das Spiel der Ziiher 

Lernt in Madrid der edle Ritler, 

Und wo llaliens Hiramel lacht, 

Da geht er auf die Madchenjagd. 

Und ward von all dem schwach und blass ta, 

Dann schluckt er triibes deutsches Wasser 

Und schwbrt, er wolle nie mehr minnen 

Die scbonen Italienerinnen. 

Dem Wohl des Landes ? Dem Verdcrben 
Weiht er sich selbst und seine Erben 1 



I, was Ihr sagt! Und geht das an, 
Wird so manch schones Gut verthanf 
Sind wir denn so urn Geld verlegen, 
Dass man uns trifTt auf solcben Wegenf 
O blieben sie von Hiifen fort 
Und freuten sich am heim'schen Sport 1 
Es stande sich dabei nicht schlechter 
Der Herr, der Hausler und der Pachter. 



BVKNS IN GERMAN 

Denn uns're lusl'gen Junker sind 
Von Hcracn frank und wohlgesinnL 
So einer lasst wohl Biiume fallen 
Und schilt die Ruden, wenn sie bellen, 
Und schiesst die Hasen weit und breit, 
Sonst thut er keinem was zu leid. 

Darf ich, Herr Casar, eins noch fragen : 
Sind nicht die Grossen frei von Plagen? 
1st ein Vergniigen nichi ihr Leben ? 
Macht ie sie Frost und Hunger beben? 

CASAR. 

Freund, kOnntesC du, wie ich, sie sch'n, 
Dir ivijrde bald der Neid vergeh'n ! 
Vor Frost und Hunger bangen sie 
Zwar selbst im kalt'sten Winter nie, 
Noch werden ihre Glieder schwach 
Durch Arbeit, Not und Ungeniach. 
Doch Narren sind die Menschen mcisl. 
So hoch man ihre Weisheit prcist ; 
Denn habcn sie nicht Grund zu klagen, 
So schaffen sie sich selber Plagen, 
Und wem ein reines Gliick beschieden. 
Der ist erst recht mit nichts zufrieden. 

Der Bauer, der den Acker pfliigt, 
Ist nach der Arbeit hellvergntigt ; 
D.is Madel, das tagsiiber spinnt, 
Ist abends ein gar lustig Kind. 
Doch Herr'n und Damen leiden, ach I 
An Arbeitsmangel Tag fiir Tag. 
SchlafT, miissig, triige lungcrn sie 
Und linden ihr Behagen nie. 
Der Tag wird fade hingebraclit 
Und schlummerlos die lange Nacht. 
Und wenn sie auf die Balle geh'n, 
Wetirennen und Koinodien seh'n, 
Danii konnen sie vor Pomp und Schein 
Doch nicht von Herien frOhlich sein. 



THE TWA DOGS jj 

Die Manner frShnen sonder Scheu 

Der Sinnenlust und Vollerei : 

Nachts wird gekost und toll gezecht 

Und morgens — fiihlt der Herr sich schlecht 

Die Damen geh'n in dichtem Schwann 
Wie Sch western traulich Arm in Arm ; 
Doch boslich insgeheim verlastern 
Einander gern die holden Schwestern, 
Und schliirfen gierig ein beim Schalchcn 
Thee so Skandale wie Skandalchen. 
Auch opfern sie der Nachte viele 
Dem hollentsprung'nen Kartenspiele 
Und prellen dabei unverfroren, 
Manch ein Gehoft geht so verloren. 

Ausnahmen giebt's, doch so erscheinen 
Die Grossen mir im allgemeinen. 

Inzwischen sank in roter Pracht 
Die Sonne, und es kam die Nacht ; 
Die Kafer summten leise nur, 
Die Kiihe briillten auf der Flur ; 
Da wiinschten recht aus Herzensgrunde 
Sich Gliick die beiden, dass sie Hunde, 
Nicht Menschen seien, sprangen auf, 
Und heimwarts ging's in schnellem Lauf. 



This poem has attracted many translators, but the task 
has been too difficult. Some succeed with certain verses, 
some with others ; but even the best fail to preser\'e the 
delicate perfume of this, perhaps the most tender-hearted 
of all Bums's poems, in transposing it from its native to 
a foreign soil. Mr. Silbergleit begins so badly that the 
undoubtedly creditable lines which follow do not remove 
the unfavourable impression. 



72 



BURNS IN GERMAN 



" Wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie, 
Oh, what a panic's in thy breastie ! '* 

can even scarcely be said to be reproduced at all by 

''Du kleine Maus, du graue Maus du, 
Was eilest so aus deinem Haus du,"^ 

indeed, these are mere doggerel-verses, and there are too 
many of a similar character. On the other hand, the 
following is an example of his best, being his rendering 
of the well-known seventh verse — 

" But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane. 
In proving foresight may be vain : 
The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men 

Gang aft a-gley, 
An' lea'e us nought but grief and pain 

For promised joy." 

"Doch Maus, du zeigest nicht allein, 
Wie Vorsicht kann vergeblich sein, 
Der Miius' und Menschen Plane fein, 

So fein gesponnen, 
Sie enden oft mit Noth und Pein 

Anstatt mit Wonnen."" 

This, it will be seen, though he avoids " gang aft a-gley,*' 
is as near the original as could be desired. 

Mr. R. Bartsch is open to the same criticism ; he is most 
unequal. He entirely misses the thoughtful observation in 
Burns's lines — 



^ Thou small mouse, thou grey mouse thou, 

Why hurriest so out of thy house thou. 
'But mouse, thou showest not alone, 
How foresight can be in vain ; 
The finest plans of mice and men 

Aye finely spun, 
They often end with want and pain 

Instead of joy. 



TO A MOUSE 



a.nd makes the commonplace and self-evident observation — 

" Ich fiirchtc, menschtiche Gewalt 
Brach deinen Friedensaufcntbalt" • 
The gentle, kindly admission which Burns so apologetically 
makes, 

*' I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve," 
loses its virtue completely in 

" Ich weiss es zwar, du bist ein Dieb"!* 
This misapprehension alone would spoil any translation. 
At the same time the following — 

" Thou saw the fields laid bare and waste, 
An' weary winter comin' fast, 
An' cozie here, beneath the blast. 
Thou thought to dwell, 
Till, crash 1 the cruel coulter past 
Out thro' thy cell," 
is well and sympathetically given in 

" Du sahst der Felder wiist und leer, 
Der base Winter kam daher, 
Du dachtest warm und ohn' Beschwer 

Zu wohnen hier ; 
Da, krach ! lerbricht die Ptiugschar schwer 
Dein Hauschen dir."' 

' I fear human power 
Broke thy abode of peace. 
' I know, indeed, thou ut a thief. 
•Thou sawest the fields bare and emply. 
And cniel winter coming therefore ; 
Thou thoughtest waim and without trouble 

To dwell here. 
Then, crash I The heavy ploughshare breaks 
Thy housie an thee. 



74 



BURNS IN GERMAN 



E. Ruete. — That his translation should contain some 
good lines is only to say it is Mr. Ruete's, but still I fear 
the weak predominate. Take the famous seventh verse 
beginning 

"But, mousie, thou art no th^ lane.' 
Here is what Ruete says — 

" Doch, Mauschen, du bist nicht allein : 
Nicht jede Miihe triigt was ein ; 
Was wir erdacht so schlau und feln, 

Trifft oft nicht lu 
Und lasst uns eitel Cram und Pein 
Stalt Freud' und Ruh'."' 

The sentiment in the above is good, but the verse is 
not that of Bums. All the verses, indeed, are good, but 
the same remark must apply. Mr. Ruete has in this 
instance allowed himself too much license, though, I 
repeat, the poem bristles with difficulty to a foreign reader. 

Mr. I^un seems to have caught the inspiration or 
meaning of the piece. Allowing for such words as 
"cozie," "bickering brattle," etc., which are untranslat- 
able, he makes scarcely a single slip, and gives a most 
excellent translation, the last two verses being peculiarly 
beautiful and faithful to the original. 

AS EINE StAUS. 

AUOLF LaUH. 

Du schiichiern, kleines, schlacikes Thicr, 
Mit welcher Angst fliehst Du von hier, 

' But, Mouse, Ihoii art not alone. 
Not every labour brings somelhinE in ; 
What we've Ihoughl out so sly anJ smartly 

Does not take place. 
And leaves us merely grief and |)ain 

Instead of joy anil peace. 



TO A MOUSE 75 

Du brauchst vor meiner Pflugschar Dich 

Ja nicht zu scheun. 
That* ich Dir weh, es wiirde mich 

Gar sehr gereun ! 

Wie oft zerreisst des Menschen Hand 
Der Schopfung briiderliches Band ; 
Zur Flucht vor mir hast Du ein Recht, 

Mein kleines Thier ; 
Aus staubgeborenem Geschlecht 

Bin ich gleich Dir. 

Ein kleiner Diebstahl ist Gebrauch 
Bei Euch, denn leben miisst Ihr auch ; 
Der Raub vom oden Stoppelfeld 

War ja nur klein, 
Wenn Gott das andre mir erhalt, 

So mag*s drum sein I 

Zertriimmert liegt Dein Hauslein dort ; 
Was blieb, das treibt der Sturm nun fort, 
Du hast, um Dir es neu zu bau'n, 

Nicht Moos, noch Gras, 
Und Dein harrt des Decembers Graun, 

So kalt und nass. 

Du sahst, wie ode das Gefild, 
Der Winter nahte rauh und wild, 
Du glaubtest, hier im Nest genug 

Geschiitzt zu sein. 
Da krach ! brach ich mit meinem Pflug 

Auf Dich herein. 

Geknuspert hast Du Tag und Nacht 
Am Stroh, und Dir Dein Bett gemacht, 
Und dafiir treib ich jetzt Dich fort 

Von Hof und Haus, 
In's ode Feld, durchstiirmt vom Nord, 

Musst Du hinaus. 

Doch, Mauschen, Du zeigst nicht allein, 
Dass Vorsicht kann vergeblich sein, 



BUJiNS IN GERMAN 

Der beste Plan von Maus und Mann 

Gelingt oft nicht, 
Und Leid und Kummer bringt uns dann, 

Was Lust verspricht. 

Nur bist Du gliickljcher als Jch, 
Das beut allein bekiimmert Dich, 
Ich, wend' ich riickwarls mein Gesicht, 

Find, ach, nur Schmeri, 
Und seh ich auch die Zukunft nicht, 

Bangt doch mein Hen ! 



This, in so many respects like the Address "To a 
Mouse," has received the attention of several translators, 
and with similar results- 
Mr. Stlbergleit adopts the same methods as he did 
with the previous piece, and so renders his version almost 
absurd as a translation. I Ukc the first two lines and the 
last verse but one. 

" Wee, modest, crimson -tipped floVr, 
Thou's met me in an evil hour"; 



he gives 



" O Bliimlein, meine Augenweide, 
Es muss geschehn zu meineni Leide." ' 

" Such fate to suflering worth is giv'n, 
Who long with wants and woes has stri' 
By human pride or cunning driv'n 

To mis'r/s brink. 

Till wrench'd of cv'ry stay but HeaVn, 

He, niin'd, sink." 



TO A DAISY 77 

This is a fine picture of a brave man struggling with 
adversity, "like some strong swimmer in his agony," but 
Mr. Silbergleit sketches for us a different character, and 
a different spirit pervades his verse — 

" So duldet mancher Dulder brav, 
Des Mangels und der Miihen Sclav*, 
Den Trug und Stoltz ins Herze traf 

Mit gift*gen Pfeilen, 
Bis ihm in friihen ew'gen Schlaf 

Die Wunden heilen.'*^ 

These are by no means the least happy of his 
renderings, and although there are some good lines, such 
licenses and weaknesses spoil the translation as a whole. 

Mr. E. Ruete offers again a pretty poem, but though 

containing many beautiful verses and many lines which 

are faithful translations, it shows too many instances where 

the beauty and power of the original are wanting. Thus 

for the first few lines, 

"Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flow'r, 
Thou's met me in an evil hour ; 
For I maun crush amang the stoure 
Thy slender stem," 



he gives 



" Bescheid'nes weisses Bliimelein, 
Im Staub, geknickt, liegst du am Rain 
Und wird gar bald zertreten sein,"^ 

* So endures many a brave sufferer, 
The slave of want and care, 
Which deceit and pride stuck into his heart 

With poisoned arrows, 
Until for him in early eternal sleep 

The wounds heal. 

•Modest, white flow'ret. 
In dust, crushed, thou Hest on the ridge. 
And will'st all too soon be trodden under. 



BURNS JN GERMAN 



Bescheidnes Bliimchen, weiss und rotb, 

Ein bciser Tag bringt Dir den Tod, 

Bei meiner Pflugschar Stich lerbricht 

Dein Stiel so fein, 

Ach, Dicfa verschonen kann Jch nichi, 

Du Edelstein ! 

Die Lerche, Deine Nachbarin, 

Die bei Dir weilt mit frohem Sinn, 

Nicht sie ist's, die Dicb niederbiegt, 

Beneizi vom Thau, 

Wcnn sie an Dir voriiberfliegt 

Zur Himmelsau. 

Dcr Nordwind blast oft bitter kalt 

In Deinen niedren AufenCfaalt, 

Doch an der Erde Mutterbmat 

Keimst Du heri'or, 

Und hebst mit ungetriibter Lust 

Dein Haupt empor. 

Der Gartenblumen Pracht und Stoli 

Beschiitzt die Wand von Stein und Hoi* ; 

Du bist deni Zufall bloss gestellt 

In Erd und Stein, 

Und docb schmiickst Du das Stoppelfeld 

Noch gam allein. 

Du hobst im Mantel knapp und klein 

Den Busen zu der Sonne Schcin 

Und warst so hold und anspruchslo; ; 

Ich, der's nicht sah, 

Riss fort Dich aus der Mutter Schooss, 

Nun liegst Du da! 

So geht es mancher jungen Maid 

Voll Unschuld und Naiiirlichkeit, 

Die siisser Liebe Wahn beriickt, 

Bis sie besiegt 

Und so, wie Du, beschmutit, zerpfliickt 

Im Staube lie^ ! 



TO A DAISY 81 

So geht^s dem Barden, den das Meer 
Des Lebens schleudert bin und her, 
Der steuerlos mit Wind und Fluth 
Vergeblich ringt, 

Bis ihn erg^ift des Sturmes Wuth, 
Und er versinkt I 

So geht es manchem braven Mann, 

Der unter schwerer Leiden Bann 

In Noth und Qual, bei Hohn und Spott 

Stets aufrecht steht 

Bis vol! Vertraun auf seinen Gott 

Er untergeht. — 

Vielleicht fallt solch ein Loos auch Dir, 
Der Du beklagst das Blumchen bier ; 
Des Ungliicks Pflugscbar dringt herein 
Wuchtig und gross ; 
Zertreten und zermaUnt zu sein 
1st dann Dein Loos 1 



SONGS AND BALLADS. 

In coming to this class of the poet's work, there is a 
larger number of translators to select from ; for, whilst 
all but two or three have shrunk from the longer poems, 
all have tried some of the songs and ballads. I will give 
what to my mind appear the best, endeavouring at the 
same time to give examples from as many different authors 
as the " passableness *' of their productions will allow. 

Jl Jttan a JHan tot a* that 

The first example I take is that "Marseillaise" of 
humanity, **A Man's a Man for a' that" This stirring 



8x BURNS IN GERMAN 

ode has attracted some half-dozen translators, but most 
of the results are poor and weak. Mr. Gustav Leger- 
lotz, however, gives a fairly good version in colloquial 
German, whilst Mr. E. Ruete gives an almost perfect 
reproduction, catching much of the spirit and fire of the 
oiigioaL 

TROTZ ALLDESI. 
Gustav Lecerlotz. 

Wer arm isch, aber richt und recht, 

Und hSngt den Kopf Crotz alldein, 
Kommt, lasst ihn stohn, den feile Knecht 1 

Wagt arm le sein trou alldem I 
Trot! alldem und alldem, 

Trotz niederm Piack und alldem 1 
Der Rang isch nur der Miinz Gepr^g, 

Der Mann isch's Gold troti alldem. 

Mag armli unsre Kost au sein 

Und grob der Flausch, troti alldem I 
G6nnt Tropf und Schelmen Samt und Wein t 

£ Mann isch Mann trotz alldem, 
Trotz alldem und alldem, 

Trotz Flitterprunk und alldem. 
Der allcr5rmste Biedermann 

Isch Kunig doch, trotz alldem. 

Do schaut den Gimpel— heisst e Lord — 

£r glotzt und protzt mit alldem, 
Doch fbrchte taused au sei Wort, 

Er isch e Dalk trotz alldem, 
Troiz alldem und alldem, 

Trotz Stern und Band und alldem. 
Der Mann vo frciem, gradem Sinn, 

Er sieht's und lacht ob alldem. 

Wohl Ritter, Grofe, Fiirste schafft 
Des Klinigs Wort, samt alldem ; 



J* MAN'S A MAN FOR A' THAT 

Zutn Ehremann Inngt nit sei Kraft, 

Er lasst's biweg, trotz alldem. 
TroU alldem und alldem, 

Trotz St^nd und Wiird und alldem, 
Vemunft und GeisI, Verdienst und Stoli 

Stobn hoch ob Rang und alldem. 
Drum jeder fleh, uf dass gescheh, 

— Und's wird gcschehn, trotz alldem — 
Dass in der Welt den Preis erhait 

Vemunft und Wert, troti alldem. 
Troti alldem und alldem, 

Jo, einst geschieht's trotz alldem, 
Dass rings uf Erden Mann und Mann 

Sich Bruder beisst, trou alldem. 

trotz alledem. 
Edmund Buete. 

1st einer arm, doch schlecht und recht, 

Und hangt den Kopf samt allcdem, 

Wirgeli'n vorbei dem feigen Knecht, 

In Armut stolz Irotz alledem. 

Trotz alledem und alledem, 

Trotz dunkler Not und alledem, 

Der Rang ist das Gepr^e nur, 

Der Mann das Gold trotz alledem. 

1st unsre Kost auch schmal und schlicht, 

Grob unser Flaus samt alledem, 

Und prunkt ein Narr und schwelgt ein Wicht, 

Der Mann bleibt Mann trotz alledem. 

Trotz alledem und alledem, 

Trotz Fliiterpracht und alledem, 

Ein bettelarmer Ehrenmann 

Sieht obenan trotz alledem, 

Der Geek, der dort stolziert, heisst Lord, 

Er starrt und scbnarrt samt alledem, 

Und schworen Hundert auf sein Won, 

Er ist ein Tropr troiz alledem. 



84 BURNS IN GERMAN 

Trotz alledem und alledem, 

Trocz Band und Stem und alledem, 

Der Mann von festem, freiem Sinn, 

Der lacht nur laut bei alledem. 

Ein Fiirst zum Ritter schlagen kann, 

Zum Grafen, Lord und alledem, 

Doch nje zu ein em Ehrenmann, 

Dran scheitert er troti alledem. 

Trotz alledem und alledem, 

Trotz Rang und Stand und alledem, 

Der Mutterwitz und cchter Wert 

Sind hoh'rer Rang troU alledem. 

Fleht, dass der Tag einst kommen ma^ — 

Er koramt I er kammt ! trotz alledem — 

Da auf der Welt den Preis erbalt 

Vcrstand und Wert trot; alledem. 

Trotz alledem und alledem, 

Es kommt der Tag trotz alledem. 

Da Mann und Mann alliiberall 

Nur Briider sind trotz alledem. 

^tots, taiha hue loi' iffiallarc bleb. 

Our great National War Ode has been tried by several 
writers, and it is really difficult to conceive how any 
literary men can offer such productions as representing 
the original, as scarcely a single trait is reproduced. I 
give an example from three of these writers. 
In Mr. Legerlotz's version we find 

"Trefft die Schergen Mann fur Mann 1 
Jedem Streich sinkt ein Tyrann ! 
Jeder Hieb schafft freie Clan ! 
Ruft der Tod— es sei !"' 

'Strike Ihe crew, Ihen. man for man, 
A tyrant sink! at eveiy blow ; 
Every stroke creates a free clan ; 
Death calls— be it so. 



■Je^^iT-.' 



SCOTS, IVHA HAE WP WALLACE BLED 85 

Mr. Legerlotz is evidently unacquainted with the odds at 
Bannockburn, otherwise he would hardly have put such 
nonsense into the mouth of King Robert. And this is 
seriously given as a translation of 

" Lay the proud usurpers low I 
Tyrants fall in every foe ! 
Liberty's in every blow ! 
Let us do or die ! " 

Mr. Otto Baisch gives 

"Auf! ins Heldengrab geschritten 

Oder in ein Morgenrot " ! ^ 
for 

"Welcome to your gory bed, 

Or to victory''; 

and even Mr. Laun renders these same lines, 

" Komm zum Sieg mit Mann und Ross, 
Komm zu Ruhm und Tod herbei ! " * 

and concludes the ode with the lines — 

" Bei der Herrschaft Druck und Wuth, 
Die auf unsern Sohnen ruht, 
Opfert jeden Tropfen Blut 
Vorwarts, todt sein oder frei " ! ' 

and these he offers as a translation of the magnificent and 
martial lines — 

^ By oppression's woes and pains ! 
By our sons in servile chains ! 
We will drain our dearest veins, 
But they shall be free ! 

^ Up ! stept into a hero's grave 

Or into a morning dawn. 
' Come to the victory with man and horse, 

Hither come to Fame and Death. 
'By the oppression and rage of power, 

AMiich rests upon our sons, 

Sacrifice each drop of blood; 

Forward, to be dead or free ! 



g6 Bl/X/iTS IN GERMAN 

" Lay the proud usurpers low I 

Tyranis fall in every foe 1 

Liberty's in every blow ! 
Let us do or die ! " 
It is really waesome that such noble lines should be 
presented to the world in the twaddle we have quoted 
above, and their perusal adds the more to our appiecia- 
tion of Ructc's comparatively faithful and stirring trans- 
lation, the excellence of which is, however, maned by the 
weak rendering of four lines. 

" Uiiser Herzblut macht sie frei, 

Enden soil die Not ! 

" Vorwarts, wem die Heimat lieb i 

Nieder mil dem Landerdieb !"' 

he gives as a rendering of Bums's stirring lines — 

« We will drain our dearest veins. 

But they shall be free ! 
" Lay the proud usurpers low ! 
Tyrants fall in every foe \ " 
The above, however, seem the only defects in this really 
good version. 

ROBEKT BRUCE- ANSPRACHE 
AN SEIN HeER BEl BaNKOCKBURH. 

Edmund Ruetb. 
Schotten, Wallace' tapfre Macht, 
Bruce getreu in mancher Schlacht, 
Heute winkt euch Grabesnacbt 
Oder ew'ger Ruhm ! 

' Our heart's blood makes them free. 
The misery shall be ended. 
Forward, he to whom home is d«ir, 
Down wiih the Lands- robber. 






SCOTS, WHA HA*£ IVV WALLACE BLED 87 

Heute Oder nimmermehr ! 
Seht ihr blitzen Speer an Speer, 
Nah'n des stolzen Edward Heer, 
Schmach und Sklaventum ? 

Wer hier, cin Verrater, schleicht, 
Wer vorm Tode feig erbleicht, 
Wer ins Joch den Nacken neigt, 
Lasst den Buben fiieh'n ! 

Wer fiir Konig, Land und Herd 
Mutig ziickt der Freiheit Scbwert, 
Freiheit mehr als Leben ehrt, 
Der soil mit mir zieh'n 1 

Bei der Qual der Tyrannei I 
Bei der Sohne Sklaverei ! 
Unser Herzblut macht sie frei, 
Enden soil die Not 1 

Vorwarts, wem die Heimat lieb I 
Nieder mit dem Landerdieb ! 
Freiheit ist in jedem Hieb 1 
Sieg gilt's Oder Tod I 



^ulb Sang ^gttc, 

which wakens so many memories in the Scottish heart, 
has been so attractive to our Teutonic brethren that 
many have tried it, but hardly in a single instance has 
a really good version been produced. The idioms are 
so telling, and so pregnant with pathos and meaning that 
the translators, one and all, have been unable to under- 
stand them, or, if they have, fail to give expression to them. 
The very title defies them. Otto Baisch renders it, "Die 
liebe alte Zeit"; K. Bartsch, "Auf gute alte Zeit"; L. 
G. Silbeigleit, " 'S ist lange her " ; A. v. Winterfeld, " Gute 
alte Zeit"; Adolf Laun, "Die gute alte Zeit." Legerlot^ 



SB BUHNS IN GERMAN 

does not translate it, and £. Ruete confines himself 
for a title to the original "Auld Lang Syne," using for 
these expressive words of the poem the German " Lang', 
lang' ist's her." 

It is not worth while going into an analysis, as the 
weak lines and those which do not at all convey the 
spirit and meaning of the original quite outnumber the 
few here and there which approach it. I give the two 
which seem to me the least far removed from the originaL 



AUF CUTE ALTE ZEIT, 
K. Bartsch. 

Sollt' alte Freundschaft untergehn 

Ganz in Vergessenheit ? 
SoUt* alte Freundschaft untergehn 

Und gute alte Zeit ? 

Auf gute alte Zeit, main Freund, 

Auf gute alte Zeit ! 
Ihr sei ein Becher noch gebracht — 

Auf gute alte Zeit ! 

Wir liefen iiber Berg und Thai 
Und pfliickten Blumen beid*, 

Und gingen manchen schweren Weg 
Seit jener alten Zeit. 

Wir platscherten von friih bis spat 
Im Bach voU Frohlichkeit ; 

Doch wilde Meere trennten uns 
Seit jener alten Zeit. 

Gib mir die Hand, mein treuer Freund, 

Die mein' ist hier bereit ; 
Wir bringen einen tiichtigen Schluck 

Der guten alten Zeit 

Du thust mir wohl mit vollcm Krug, 
Und ich thu' dir Bescheid ; 



AULD LANG SYNE 89 

Hier dieser Becher sei gebracht 
Der guten alten Zeit ! 

Auf gute alte Zeit, mein Freund, 

Auf gute alte Zeit ! 
Ihr sei ein Becher noch gebracht — 

Auf gute alte Zeit ! 



LANCP, LANG' /ST*S HER, 
Edmund Ruete. 

Und sollten alter Freundschaft wir 
Gedenken nimmermehr ? 
Gedenken alter Freundschaft nicht ? 
Lang*, lang' ist's her. 

Chor, Lang*, lang* ist's her, mein Schatz, 
Lang*, lang* ist's her, 
Drum trinken wir von Herzen eins, 
Lang*, lang* ist*s her. 

Dein Masskrug, der bleibt nimmer voll, 
Und rasch wird meiner leer, 
Wir trinken recht von Herzen eins, 
Lang*, lang* ist*s her. 

Einst rupften wir die Blumen ab 
Und rannten kreuz und quer — 
Nun sind die alten FUsse miid', 
Lang', lang* ist's her. 

Einst patschten wir durch Pfiitz' und Bach, 
Hei, das gefiel uns sehr ! 
Dann brausten Meere zwischen uns — 
Lang*, lang* ist's her. 

Reich* mir die Hand, mein alter Freund, 
Nun lass* ich dich nicht mehr ! 
Wir trinken heute herzhaft eins, 
Lang*, lang* ist*s her. 



90 



BURNS IN GERMAN 



We will now look at some of his songs of social glee 
and boon companionship. 

(D, WAMxt breto'It a $eck 0' jRant. 

"O, Willie brew'd a Peck o' Maut" has attracted 
a goodly array of translators. Most of the results, it 
must be confessed, are weak. It is amusing to see the 
attempts made to render 

"We are na fou, we*re no that fou, 
But just a drappie in our e'e." 

The twinkle which comes into the eye of one indulging 
in the nappy is described here to perfection, "Na fou, 
but just a drappie in our e'e," a description which is 
undoubtedly one of Burns's happiest hits. 

Otto Baisch, in a generally poor translation, "Das 
lustige Kleeblatt," a funny far-fetched title, gives it 

"Wir sind nicht voll, noch lang nicht voll, 
Nur eben aus der Sorgen Haft.* 

Winterfeld's effort is as unsuccessful as that of Baisch; 
the rendering of the above two lines not being even so 
good, and a specimen of the character of his translation 
of the song — 

"Wir sind nicht schief, wir sind nicht schrag, 
Der Kopf ist uns noch frisch und frei." 

Laun and K. Bartsch are both a little better, though by 
no means good. The former renders the two lines in 
question. 



*We are not full, far from being full, 
Only just out of the grip of care. 



O, WILLIE BREWD A PECK a MAUT 91 

"Wir sind nicht voll, wir sind nicht voll, 
Ein Tropflein hat uns kaum bethaut"^ 

Bartsch reproduces them equally unsuccessfully 

" Wir sind nicht voll, wir sind nicht voll ; 
Ein Tropfchen erst — das gibt uns Kraft."' 

It is difficult to choose between these two mediocre 
renderings, but I will give Bartsch's, along with that of 
E. Ruete, who seems to have better caught the spirit 
and felt the characteristics of this inimitable social song. 
The rendering even of the two lines already quoted shows 
the improvement — 

" Wir sind nicht voll — ei, gar nicht voll ; 
Im Auge nur ein Flammenschein."^ 

Indeed the whole song is rendered with wonderful fidelity 
and spirit. One wonders why he renders 

**A cuckold, coward loan is he," 
by 

" Der muss 'ne rechte Memme sein,"* 
when 

"Muss ein Hahnrei und Memme sein" 

would have given him this line also, almost literally. 



O, WILLIE BEAUT EIN FASSCHEN BIER. 

K. Bartsch. 

O, Willie braut* ein Fasschen Bier, 
Und Rob und Allan kam daher; 

^ We are not full, we are not full ; 
A wee drap has scarcely bedewed us. 

• We are not full, we are not full ; 
Only a wee drap, it gives us strength. 

• We are not full — ay, far from full ; 
But just a sparkle in our eye. 

^ He must be a thorough coward. 



92 



BUHNS IN GERMAN 

Drei frohere Bursch', die lange Nacht, 
Gibt's in der Christenheit nicht mehr. 

Wir sind nicht voll, wir sind nicht voll, 
Ein Tropfchen erst — das gibt uns Kraft ; 

Der Hahn mag krahn, die Nacht vergehn, 
Probieren wir den Gerstensaft ! 

Drei lustige Burschen sind wir hier, 
Drei lustige Burschen im Verein ; 

Wir waren lustig manche Nacht 
Und hoffen's manche noch zu sein. 

Das ist der Mond, das ist sein Horn, 
Das glitzert von des Himmels Blau' ; 

Nach Hause leuchten will er uns, 
Doch der kann warten, meiner Treu' ! 

Der erste, der nach Hause will, 
Der soil ein Lump und Schurke sein ; 

Doch wer zuletzt vom Stuhle fallt, 
Der sei der Konig von uns drei'n. 

Wir sind nicht voll, wir sind nicht voll, 
Ein Tropfchen erst — das gibt uns Kraft ; 

Der Hahn mag krahn, die Nacht vergehn, 
Probieren wir den Gerstensaft ! 



DER WILLY BRAUV *NEN SCHEFFEL MALZ, 

Edmund Ruete. 

Der Willy braut' 'nen Scheffel Malz, 
Und Rob und Allan fand sich ein ; 
W^er war wohl in der Christenheit 
So selig je, wie die zu drei'n ? 

Chor, Wir sind nicht voll, ei, gar nicht voll, 
Im Auge nur ein Flammenschein ! 
Der Hahn mag krah'n, die Nacht vergeh'n, 
Wir kosten doch den Gerstenwein ! 



O, WILLIE BREWD A PECK a MAUT 93 

Drei lust'ge Burschen sind wir hier, 
Drei lust'ge Burschen, wie ich mein', 
Und waren lustig manche Nacht, 
Und hoffen's manche noch zu sein. 

Der Mond, ich kenn' ihn an dem Horn, 
Blink t hoch vom Himmel hier herein 
£r scheint so hell, er lockt uns heim, 
Doch, meiner Treu, er warte fein, 

Wer sich zuerst zum Geh*n erhebt, 
Der muss 'ne rechte Memme sein, 
Doch wer zuletzt vom Stuhle sinkt, 
Der ist der Konig von uns drei'n I 

Wir sind nicht voll, ei, gar nicht voll, 
Im Auge nur ein Flammenschein ! 
Der Hahn mag krah'n, die Nacht vergeh*n, 
Wir kosten doch den Gerstenwein ! 



John ^atleprorn. 

This well-known ballad has also found many translators, 
most of whom have accomplished their task with con- 
siderable success. O. Baisch, K. Bartsch, A. Laun, and 
Winterfeld have given fairly good translations, but in each 
case the work is marred by weak and too frequently 
by incorrect and unfaithful renderings. Silbergleit again 
prefers his oimi views to those of Bums, and opens the 
ballad thus — 

"Drei Konige im Abendland, 
Hoch in dem durst'gen Norden, 
Die schworen einen grossen Eid 
Hans Gerstenkorn zu morden " ; 

and we are asked to accept this for 

"There were three kings into the East, 
Three kings both great and high. 



94 BURNS 2N GERMAN 

And they hae sworn a solemn oath 
John Barleycorn should die."* 

He places his kings in the wat ; Burns, and, of course, 
the other translators, have them in the east. Then he 
translates " in old Scotland " by " zu unserm Zecherlande " 
(in our drinking land) — not very complimentary to "puir 
auld Scotland!" These are, it will be seen, absolutely 
gratuitous departures from the original, the first verse, 
given above, being by no means the worst example. 
These, along with the insertion of so many droll notions 
of his own, make it uncertain whether he means his 
version to be taken seriously or as a mere parody. It 
would have been a delicate matter to decide which 
rendering of the four other writers should be given as 
the truest, but fortunately E. Ruete has again produced 
upon the whole such a true and faithful version, that 
I have no hesitation in giving it as the best of this 
famous ballad. 

HANS GERSTENKORN. 
Edmund Ruete. 

Drei Kon'ge aus dem Morgenland, 
Drei Kon'ge hochgebor'n, 
Die schwuren einen heil'gen Eid : 
Es sterb' Hans Gerstenkom ! 

Sie pfliigten ihn wohl mit 'nam Pflug 
Und streuten Erde drauf, 
Und schwuren einen heiPgen Eid : 
Aus sei sein Lebenslauf. 

* Three kings in the west, 
High in the thirsty north, 
Swore a great oath 
To murder John Barleycorn. 



JOHN BARLEYCORN 95 

Doch als der liebe Friihling kam 
Und Regen niederfloss, 
Stand wieder auf Hans Gerstenkom, 
Da war das Staunen gross. 

Die Sommersonne schien so heiss, 
Da ward er stark und dick, 
Von spitzen Specren starrt sein Haupt, 
Scheucht jedermann zuriick. 

Der ernste Herbst kam mild heran, 
Wie bleich ward er, und ach I 
Er beugt sein Knie, er senkt sein Haupt : 
Der Starke wurde schwach ! 

Und immer kranker schaut' er aus 
Und wurde welk und alt, 
Da thaten ihm die Feinde an 
Gar schreckliche Gewalt 

Mit einer Waffe, lang und scharf, 
Das Knie man ihm zerhieb, 
Man band ihn auf 'nem Karren fest 
Wie einen Schelm und Dieb. 

Man legt* ihn auf den Riicken hin 
Und priigelt' ihn gar schwer, 
Man hing ihn vor dem Winde auf 
Und dreht* ihn hin und her. 

Dann fullte man ein finstres Loch 
Zum Rand mit Wasser an 
Und warf hinein Hans Gerstenkorn : 
Dort schwimm' er, wenn er kann I 

Nun ward er auf die Diele hin 
Zu neuer Pein gelegt, 
Man warf ihn hin, man warf ihn her 
So oft er nur sich regt. 

An einer Flamme ward alsdann 
Gedorrt sein Knochenmark, 
Und mit zwei Steinen mahlte gar 
Ein Miiller ihn zu Quark. 



96 



BURNS IN GERMAN 

Sein Herzblut selber nahnien sie 
Und tranken's aus in Ruh', 
Je mehr sie tranken, desto mehr 
Nahm ihre Freude zu. 

Hans Gerstenkorn, der war ein Held 
Von edler Wagelust : 
Denn kostest du sein Blut nur, wachst 
Der Mut dir in der Brust. 

£s macht, dass du dein Weh vergisst, 
Verdoppelt Freud* und Scherz, 
Macht jung, ob sie auch Thranen weint, 
Der armen Witwe Herz. 

Drum lebe hoch Hans Gerstenkorn ! — 
Die Glaser nehmt zur Hand — 
Und nie verschwinde sein Geschlecht 
Im alten Schottenland ! 



I will now examine the translations of some of these 
marvellous love songs, in which the great powers of 
Bums chiefly appear. He sang of love in all its aspects, 
phases, and conditions. It was his love of woman that 
first awoke his poetic genius and kindled the sweetest 
sensibilities of his nature, and it was this love which 
kept the flame of his genius at its brightest glow through 
life. To him **the lightening of her eye was the god- 
head of Parnassus, and the witchery of her smile the 
divinity of Helicon," and so we find his imperial fancy 
laid all nature under tribute, and collected riches from 
every field for imagery sufficiently expressive to portray 
the beauty and purity of her character, and the graces 
and charms of her person. 






MY NANNIE, O 97 

JRg ^^attttie, (D. 

I take first "the perfection of a rustic love song," 
" My Nannie, O." Otto Baisch has some very good lines 
faithfully rendered, but there are so many defects in his 
work that it cannot be regarded as successful. For 
instance, 

"Wenn Kiih und Schafe wohlgedeihn. 
Das freut den Gutstyrannen ; 
Doch ich, der Pfluger, lache fein, 
Ich sorge nur fur Annen,"^ 

is too unfaithful and pointless for 

"Our auld guidman delights to view 
His sheep an' kye thrive bonnie, O ; 
But I'm as blythe that bauds his pleugh, 
An' has nae care but Nannie, O." 

K. Bartsch is open to the same objection, and he spoils 
the character of the song by using the imagery of the 
rose instead of "My Nannie" — entitling his version, 
"Nanny, meine Rose" (Nanny, my rose). He in many 
lines entirely misses their meaning and charm. For 
example — 

" Ihr Herz ist treu, ihr Auge blau. 
So siiss ist ihr Gekose; 
Dem Masslieb gleich, genetzt vom Tau, 
Ist Nanny meine Rose"* 

^ When cows and sheep are thriving 

That pleases the Land Tyrant ; 

But I, the ploughman, laugh finely, 

I only care for Nannie. 
' Her heart is true, her eye is blue, 

So sweet is her caressing, 

And like the Daisy, wet with dew. 

Is Nanny, my rose. 

O 



98 BURNS IN GERMAN 

is quite unworthy of 

** Her face is fair, her heart is true, 
As spotless as she's bonnie, O ; 
The opening gowan, wat wi' dew, 
Nae purer is than Nannie, O." 

A. Laun gives a truer rendering than either of the above, 
his first verse being very good. 

"Am Hugel dort, wo Logan fliesst. 
In Sumpf und Moor die Rohre stehen, 
Und Wintersonn ihr Auge schliesst, 
Will ich zu meiner Nanny gehen. 
Der Westwind blast mit kaltem Graus, 
Die Nacht ist schaurig anzusehen. 
Ich nehm mein Plaid und schleich hinaus, 
Zu Nanny iiber'n Berg zu gehen." ^ 

It is to be regretted that the other verses are spoiled by 
several incorrect renderings, whilst the effect is entirely 
destroyed by the total omission of the first half of the 
last verse, viz., 

" Our auld guidman delights to view 
His sheep an' kye thrive bonnie, O ; 
But I'm as blythe that bauds his pleugh, 
An* has nae care but Nannie, O." 

And then the familiar rhythm is lost in all the transla- 
tions by the omissions of the O, which make the lines 
sound somewhat hard and abrupt This is felt even in 

^ There at the hill, where Logan [sic] flows. 
In marsh and moor the reeds stand ; 
The winter sun closes his eye, 
And I will go to my Nanny. 
The west wind blows with cold shiver. 
The night is dreadful to behold ; 
I take my plaid, and out I slip. 
To go over the hill to Nanny. 



.S. y- . E.T. 



MY NANNIE, O 99 

E. Ruete's version, which seems nearest to the original, 
though many lines are weak and incorrect — indeed, he 
does not appear to have caught the spirit and beauty of 
this song, as he has done with some others, and the 
general effect is diminished not only by the omission of 
the O, but by the frequent omission also of the proper 
name. For instance, 

*'Dort hinterm Berg im Lugarthal, 
In Mooren und in Briichen, 
Versank der letzte Sonnenstrahl, 
Da bin ich fortgeschlichen." ^ 

From this it will be seen that though the meaning is 
given with reasonable correctness, the swing and rhythm 
of the original are destroyed by these two defects; 
besides he does not say why he is " fortgeschlichen." 

** Behind yon hills where Lugar flows, 
'Mang moors an' mosses many, O ; 
The wintry sun the day has clos'd. 
And ril awa' to Nannie, O." 

I add his full version of the song, but have supplied 
the O at the end of the second and fourth lines, which 
improves the melody of the piece, though it is only fair to 
add that such use of the O is not common in German. 

DORT HINTERM BERG, 
Edmund Ruete. 

Dort hinterm Berg im Lugarthal, 
In Mooren und in Briichen, O ! 

* There behind the Hill in Lugar- Vale, 
In moors and in marshes, 
The last ray of the sun is sunk> 
And I have slipped away. 



lOO BURNS IN GERMAN 

Versank der letzte Sonnenstrahl, 
Da bin ich fortgeschlichen, O ! 

Die Nacht war regnicht, schwarz und kalt, 
Mein Mantel fiog im Winde, O ! 
Als ich mich stahl hin durch den Wald 
Zu meinem Lieb geschwinde, O ! 

Mein Annchen ist ein reizend Kind, 
Ohn* Arg und sender Tiicken, O ! 
Gott strafe den, der falschgesinnt 
Mein Annchen will beriicken, O 1 

Schmuck ist ihr Antlitz, ihr Gemiit 
So treu, wie schon die Kleine, O ! 
Massliebchen, frisch im Tau erbliiht, 
Gleicht Annchen mein an Keine, O 1 

Ein Bauembursch, das ist mein Stand, 
Wer hat von mir vemommen, O ? 
Bin ich auch wenigen nur bekannt, 
Ihr bin ich stets willkommen, O I 

Mein Taglohn ist mein ganzes Gut, 
Hab* wenig zu verschenken, O ! 
Doch nicht nach Schatzen steht mein Mul, 
Mein Lieb' ist all mein Denken, O ! 

Mein alter Brotherr schmunzelt froh, 
Weil Schaf ' und Kuh' gedeihen, O I 
Ich hinterm Pflug mach's ebenso, 
Weil Annchen mich will freien, O ! 

Kommt Gliick, kommt Leid, was kiimmert's mich ? 
Ich nehm', was Gott will geben, O ! 
Nur einen einz'gen Wunsch hab' ich : 
Mit meinem Lieb zu leben, O ! 

This, one of the most exquisite songs of Bums, has 
several translators. 

Mr. Silbergleit's version has many beautiful lines, but 



MARY MORISON lOl 

he spoils the effect of his work as a translation by entirely 
omitting the name Mary Morison and using only "Marie"; 
and in some cases he changes the tender touches, as, for 
instance, in the last verse, where Burns causes the lover — 
even while despairing of her love, and only asking her 
sympathetic pity — still to believe in her gentleness and 
true womanly nobility 

"A thought ungentle canna be 
The thought o' Mary Morison." 
Mr. Silbergleit puts 

" Wenn solch Erbarmen du nicht iibst, 
Dann bist du's niche, bist nicht Marie."* 
which is pitched in a much lower key than the beautiful 
thought which the lines of Bums convey. 

Mr. Laun's translation has also much to recommend 
it, but he now and again loses some of the most touching 
traits of the original, for instance — 

" Manch' Midchen schien der ScbSnheit Preis, 

Wohl wiirdig fiir des K5nigs Thron ; 

Doch keine war im ganien Kreis 

So schiin wie Mary Morison,"' 
where it will be seen the whole point is lost 

A witty writer tells a story of a young officer who 
admitted that his sweetheart was not particularly beautiful, 
nor endowed with a perfectly graceful figure; " but take her 
all in all," said he, "and who is so winsome and winning?" 
Precisely ! this is the feeling Bums expresses — 

' If Mich pii]F ihou dost not practice, 

Then thou'rt not she, art not Maiy. 
' Many a maid seemed the prize of beauty. 

Well worthy of the king's ibrone ; 

But none in the whole drcle wu 

So beaulifol u Muy Moiisoo. 



I02 BURNS IN GERMAN 

"Tho' this was fair, and that was braw, 
And yon the toast of a* the town/* 

yet she "was na Mary Morison." 

It would be difficult to find the concentration of the 
whole thought upon one person, the absolute supremacy 
of true love, so perfectly expressed as in these four wofds, 
and it is in the rendering of such concentrated expres- 
sions, as well as of the naive and pathetic traits, that so 
many of our translators fail. 

Mr. Otto Baisch gives a pretty song, but it does not 
contain the charming characteristics of the original. I 
take, for brevity's sake, the same verse as a test — 

•* Errang auch manche Wohlgefallen, 
Hiess eine gar des Stadtchens Sonn', 
Stillseufzend sagt' ich doch bei alien : 
Ihr gleicht nicht Mary Morison."^ 

It will be seen that the magic and tenderness of the 
original are absent from these lines. 

Mr. Winterfeld produces a good song, and in some 
respects a fair translation, but it is also spoiled as a 
rendering of Bums by such lines as 

" Flog doch zu dir die Phantasie, 
Denn alles AndVe schien mir schaal,"' 

which fail entirely in conveying the original — 

"To thee my fancy took its wing — 
I sat, but neither heard nor saw"; 



^Tho' many succeeded in obtaining favour, 
And one, indeed, was called the Sun of the town, 
Gently sighing, I yet said about them all. 
You do not equal Mary Morison. 

' My fancy flew to thee, 
For all else seemed insipid. 



^ . -fr" 



MARY MORISON 103 

and 

"Oy kannst den Frieden rauben Du 
Dem Manne, der Dich nie betriibt?"* 

is far, far from meaning 

" O Mary, canst thou wreck his peace, 
Wha for thy sake would gladly die?" 

K. Bartsch gives a version, very faithfully rendered, and 
with fewer departures from the original. I therefore give 
it, as also that of G. Legerlotz, which is likewise fairly 
well translated, although it shows many of the defects of 
the four first named writers. 



MARY MORI SON. 
K. Bartsch. 

O Mary, komm ans Fensterlein, 

£s naht die langersehnte Stund', 
Und lass mich sehn das Lacheln dein 

Das kranke Herzen macht gesund. 
Wie triig* ich willig jedes Joch, 

£in milder Sklav* im Brand der Sonn', 
Erwiirb' ich dich am Ziele noch, 

Du holde Mary Morison ! 

Als gestem durch den Saal der Tanz 

Hinwogt im Glanz des Kerzenlichts, 
Bei dir war meine Seele ganz, 

Ich sass, doch sah und hdrt' ich nichts. 
War diese schon und jene drall 

Und die des ganzen Stadtchens Kron', 
Ich seufzt' und sprach : " Wer seid ihr all ? 

Ihr seid nicht Mary Morison." 



*0, canst thou rob the peace 
Of the man who never saddened thee ? 



I ©4 BURNS IN GERMAN 

O warum schaffst du solchen Schmerz 

Ihm, dem du mehr als Leben bist? 
Kannst, Mary, brechen du ein Herz, 

Des einzige Schuld die Liebe ist ? 
Kannst du nicht Lieb' um Liebe weihn, 

O so sei Mitleid doch mein Lohn ; 
Ein grausam Herz kann nimmer sein 

Das Herz von Mary M orison. 



MARY MORI SON. 
GusTAV Legerlotz; 

O Mary, komm ans Fenster nu ! 

's isch die ersehnte Stund, du weisst 
Dei sonnigs Lacheln neig mir zu, 

Das den Geiz sei Gold vergesse heisst 
Froh triig au*s schwerste Joch mei Geist, 

£ treuer Sklav, vo Sonn ze Sonn, 
Wann 's ihm e susses Gllick verheisst : 

Die holde Mary M orison. 

Als heint beim Klang der Saiten dort 

Der Tanz gewogt durch's Hallenlicht, 
Do stahl mei Geist zu dir sich fort ; 

I sass, doch h6rt und sach i nicht. 
Do war meng hiibsch, meng hold Gesicht, 

£ dritts trug Lob uf Lob dervon. 
O geht ! Mei Herzli seufzt und spricht : 

" Keins isch kei Mary M orison I " 

Der gern sei Herzblut fiir di giebt, 

O Mary, hast flir den nur Pein ? 
Des Schuld nur isch, dass er di liebt, 

Kannst den der Todesmarter weihn ? 
Und kann's denn Lieb um Lieb nit sein, 

£s labt au schon des Mitleids Bronn. 
O hart isch nimmermeh, o nein I 

Der Sinn vo Mary Morison. 




^./■^-^^ 



V--- 



MV NANNIE'S AWA 



105 



Mr. Laun, although true in many beautiful lines, does 
not give a happy version; his metre wants a syllable in 
the second line, and this gives it a stilted character, and 
some lines are poor, such as 

"Sie machen mich traurig und sind mir verdorrt, 
Sie mahnen an Nanny — doch Nanny ist fort"' 

These words have the very opposite meaning to the 
original, for Bums shows his pain by the contrast — 

"They pain my sad bosom, sae sweetly they blaw, 
They mind me o* Nannie, and Nannie's awa." 

Otto Baisch spoils a very fair translation by inaccuracies 
which, with a little care, might have been avoided, for 
example, 

"While birds warble welcome in ilka green shaw," 
he renders 

"Nun singt es und klingt es bald bier und bald dort."^ 

K. Bartsch and Winterfeld give very similar renderings, 
indeed the first two lines are word for word. It is 
difficult to decide which to give here. As being nearer 
the original I give Bartsch's version, though possibly 
Winterfeld's may be preferred by some. 

NANNY IST FORT. 
K. Bartsch. 

Nun hiillt sich Natur in ihr griines Gewand 
Und lauschet den Lammchen am blumigen Strand ; 
£s zwitschern die Vogel am schattigen Ort ; 
Mich kann es nicht freuen — denn Nanny ist fort 

' They make me sad and are withered to me; 
They mind me of Nanny, but Nanny is away. 

'Now there's singing and sounding, now here and now there. 



Io6 BURNS IN GERMAN 

Schneegldckchen und Primel, sie schmlicken die Au', 
£s baden die Veilchen sich morgans im Tau ; 
Sie machen mich traurig, mich mahnt immerfort 
Ihr Bliihen an Nanny—und Nanny ist fort 

Du Lcrche, die flattemd vom tauigen Plan 
Verkiindet dem Schafer des Morgenrots Nahn, 
Du Drossel, du abendbegriissende, dort, 
O schweigt aus Erbarmen — denn Nanny ist fort 

Komra, sinnender Herbst, denn in Gelb und in Grau, 
Dass ich die Natur, die verwelkende, schau' ; 
Der eisige Winter, wenn alles verdorrt, 
Kann einzig mich freuen — denn Nanny ist fort 

The following, an arrangement from various writers, 
presents the piece^ I think, more faithfully. 



MEIN ANNCHEN IST FORT, 

Nun schmiickt sich Natur in ihr griines Gewand ; 
Nun hiipfen die Lammlein durch bliihendes Land; 
Willkommen singt's Voglein am griinenden Ort : 
Ich aber bin freudlos, mein Annchen ist fort 

Schneegldckchen und Primeln versch6nen die Au*, 
Die Veilchen sich baden friihmorgens im Thau ; 
Es schmerzt meine Seele euer duftendes Wort, 

• • • • 

Ihr mahnet an Annchen, und Annchen ist fort 

Du Lerche, die aufspringt aus thauiger Saat 
Dem Schafer zu melden : die Sonne, sie naht, 
Und du trunk'ne Drossel im Abendglanz dort, 
Verstumme aus Mitleid, mein Annchen ist fort 

Komm Herbst denn schwermiithig in Gelb und in Grau, 
Und tr6ste mich mit dem Verwelken der Au' : 
Nur schwarz 6der Winter und Schneesturm hinfort, 
Erfreuen mich fiirder, mein Annchen ist fort 



FLOW GENTLY, SWEET AFTON 107 

JlotD gentig, ^toeet Jlfion. 



i< 



Flow gently, Sweet Afton," one of the most melodious 
of the songs of Bums, might have been expected to have 
been rendered with fidelity, whilst preserving its original 
musical ring, especially as it is devoid of many of the 
idioms and strong Scotch expressions conveying thoughts 
and meanings which are so difficult to clothe in a foreign 
garb. It is therefore all the more disappointing to find 
that so few attain even a moderate measure of success. 

Otto Baisch's version, though pretty enough as a song, 
entirely loses the charm and meaning the original pos- 
sesses, whilst the substitution of "mein Bachlein" (my 
streamlet) for "sweet Afton," tends much to hush the 
music of the verse* These two words, "sweet Afton," 
have a musical ring, the absence of which spoils any 
translation. Take Mr. Baisch*s first verse — 

" Fliess' leise, mein Bachlein am griinenden Rain, 
Fliess* leise, so will ich ein Liedchen dir weihn ; 
Hier schlummert Marie mein Leben, mein Licht ; 
Fliess* leise, du Bachlein, and store sie nicht 1 " * 

This is weak and unmusical compared with 

" Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes, 
Flow gently, Pll sing thee a song in thy praise ; 
My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream, — 
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream." 

Mr. A. Laun's version is spoiled by somewhat hard 
reading lines and feeble expressions, as, for instance, his 
rendering of the second four lines and others — 

* Flow gently, my streamlet, through your green-growing bank, 
Flow gently, Til dedicate a ditty to thee ; 
Here slumbers Mary, my life, my light, 
Flow gently, thou streamlet, and disturb her not. 



lo8 BURNS IN GERMAN 

**Du Taubchen, das gurrend das Holz durchstreift, 
Du Amsel, die schrillend in Dornbusch pfeift, 
Griinkopfige Kiebitz*, ich bitte Euch sehr, 
Die schlummemde Schone, die st6rt mir nicht mehr." * 

The first line creates quite a discord : " ich bitte Euch 
sehr," is colloquial prose, and indeed the whole four lines 
are much too unmusical and strained for 

" Thou stock-dove, whose echo resounds through 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." 

Mr. L. G. Silbergleit writes a pretty song on the subject, 
but, as is so often the case with this erratic writer, he 
does not seem to trouble himself as to the original. 
According to his version the chief thing he desires of 
the streamlet (as he calls it) is, not to refrain from disturb- 
ing the dream, but to listen to the lullaby (Wiegengesang). 

" Strom* leise, du Bachlein am griinenden Hang. 
Strom* leise und lausche dem Wiegengesang^^ * 

certainly conveys a different sound and meaning from 

" Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes. 
Flow gently, Til sing thee a song in thy praise." 

Some of the lines are almost comically weak as compared 
with the original, thus — 

" Der Gliickliche hat ja den Fuss ihr umspiilt, 
Der Gliickliche hat ja den Leib ihr gekiihlL"' 

^Thou little dove which, cooing, sweeps through the wood, 
Thou blackbird, which shrilly sings in the thornbush. 
Green-headed lapwing, I beg you much, 
The slumbering fair don*t disturb for me more. 

'Flow gently, thou streamlet, by the green-growing slope. 
Flow gently, and listen to the lullaby. 

•The happy one has indeed laved her foot, 
The happy one has cooled her body. 



, zjiao- _-. :; .-..xj t ^ _ ■v£_ c 



/ZC?fr GENTLY, SWEET AFTON 109 

Doubtless the streamlet ought to be considered happy, but 
this sickly rhapsody is a poor exchange for the poetical 
picture of Bums — 

" How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave, 
As gathering sweet flowerets she stems thy clear wave." 

Then he not only also omits the soft words, "Sweet 
Afton," but the name of the "slumbering fair" as well, 
which removes the song further from the charm and 
musical flow of the original 

K. Bartsch and A. v. Winterfeld. The versions bear 
a strong resemblance to one another, and the use of the 
very same lines to which I have already referred occurs 
here in every verse, thus Bartsch has 

1. "Es schlaft meine Mary am murmelnden Saum — 

Zieh* leis*, holder Afton, nicht st6r ihren Traum.*' 

2. " Griinbuschiger Kiebitz, dir mach' ich's zur Pflicht, 

O st6re den Schlummer der Liebsten mir nicht." 

3. " Dort wander* ich taglich zu Mittag hinaus, 

Den Blick auf die Herd* und der Lieblichen Haus." 

4. " Oft, wenn auf die Wiese der Abendtau weint, 

Beschattet die Birke uns beide vereint" 

5. "Wie kost deine Well* ihr den schneeigen Fuss, 

Wenn, Blumen sich pfliickend, sie nahet dem Fluss ! ** 

Winterfeld has 

1. "Es schlummert Maria am duftigen Saum — 

Zieh' leis, holder Afton, st6r* nicht ihren Traum." 

2. " Griinbrustiger Kibitz, ich mach* dir*s zur Pflicht ! 

O store den Schlaf meines Liebchens mir nicht ** — 

3. " Dort wandVe ich jeglichen Mittag hinaus. 

Den Blick auf die Heerd* und der Lieblichen Haus." 

4- "So oft dort der Abend in Thautropfen weint, 
Beschattet die Birke uns Beide vereint" 

5. "Wie kos*t deine Well' um ihr schneeiges Bein, 
Wenn Blumen sie suchet, zu nahe am Rain 1 *' — 



no BURNS IN GERMAN 

The sixth verse is of course merely a repetition of the 
first. It is not very easy to say which of the two in 
the remaining lines is nearer the original; personally I 
prefer K. Bartsch's, and therefore append his version. 

E. Ruete, whose ear seems generally more ready to 
catch the music and rhythm of Burns's works, is not 
quite so successful here as I would have expected. He 
somewhat mars the melody by using the words, '^Mein 
Afton," "Mein Strom." I give his version also. 

ZIEH LEIS*, HOLDER AFTON 
K. Bartsch. 

Zieh leis*, holder Afton, am griinenden Ried, 
Zieh leis', und zum Preis lass dir singen ein Lied j 
Es schlaft meine Mary am murmelnden Saum — 
Zieh leis*, holder Afton, nicht stor ihren Traum. 

Du Taubchen, des Echo im Walde dort kling^ 
Du Amsel, die frohlich im Dornbusche singt, 
Grunbuschiger Kiebitz, dir mach* ich's zur Pflicht, 
O store den Schlummer der Liebsten mir nicht. 

Hoch ragen die Hiigel am Afton empor, 

Draus quillt manch geschlangeltes Bachlein hervor ; 

Dort wander* ich taglich zu Mittag hinaus, 

Den Blick auf die Herd' und der Lieblichen Haus. 

Wie sch6n deine Ufer, die Thaler wie griin, 
Wo wild in dem Walde die Primeln erbliihn ! 
Oft, wenn auf die Wiese der Abendtau weint, 
Beschattet die Birke uns beide vereint. 

Dein helles Gewasser, wie lieblich es fliesst, 
Die Hiitte von Mary geschlangelt umschliesst I 
Wie kost deine Well* ihr den schneeigen Fuss, 
Wenn, Blumen sich pfluckend, sie nahet dem Fluss ! 

Zieh leis', holder Afton, am griinenden Ried ! 
Zieh leis', holdes Bachlein, dir sing* ich dies Lied ! 



ri& iiiBfii 



FLOW GENTL K, SWEET A ETON 1 1 1 

Es schlaft meine Mary am murmelnden Saum — 
Zieh leis\ holder Afton, nicht stor ihren Traum. 

ME IN A ETON, 
Edmund Ruete. 

Fliess' leise, mein Afton, das Waldthal entlang, 
Fliess' leise, ich sing' dir zum Preis einen Sang, 
Mein Madchen hast murmelnd in Schlaf du gewiegt, 
Fliess' leise, mein Strom, wo suss traumend sie liegt ! 

Holztaube, die girrend die Schluchten durchschweift, 
Du Amsel, die hell in depi Dorngebiisch pfeift, 
Schwarzhaubiger Kibitz, nun schweige geschwind ! 
Ich*bitt' euch, o stort nicht mein schlummerndes Kind ! 

Hoch ragen, mein Strom, deine Hohen empor, 
£s blitzt aus dem Dickicht manch Bachlein hervor, 
Dort weid' ich die Herden und schau' nach dem Haus 
Der Liebsten tagtaglich die Augen mir aus. 

Wie lieblich die Ufer, die Thaler so griin, 
Wo wild in den Waldern die Primeln erbluh*n, 
Wo oft, wenn der Abend sanftweinend sich senkt, 
Uns schattend die duftende Birke umfangt ! 

Krystallhell, mein Strom, deine Welle enteilt. 
Am Hiittchen vorbei, wo die Liebste mir weilt, 
Wie badest du froh ihren schneeigen Fuss, 
Pfliickt hurtig sie Blumen im rauschenden Fluss ! 

Fliess' leise, mein Afton, das Waldthal entlang, 
Fliess' leise, du Lieber, und lausche dem Sang ! 
Mein Madchen hast murmelnd in Schlaf du gewiegt, 
Fliess' leise, mein Strom, wo siiss traumend sie liegt ! 



®, iDert tli0u in the daulb $la0t, 

though attempted by five translators, exists only in two 
versions which are good; that by Mr. Freiligrath is really 
excellent — perhaps one of the best translations made into 



1 1 2 BURNS IN GERM A N 

German. The second one I give, which almost equals 
it, is by Otto Baisch. 

O, SAH ICH AUP DER HAIDB DORT, 
Ferdinand Freiligrath. 

O, sah' ich auf der Haide dort 
Im Sturme dich, im Sturme dich, 
Mit meinem Mantel vor dem Sturm 
Beschutzt* ich dich, beschiitzt' ich dich ! 
O, war* mit seinen Sturmen dir 
Das Ungliick nah, das Ungliick nah, 
Dann war* dies Herz dein Zufluchtsort, 
Gem theilt' ich ja, gern theilt* ich ja ! 

O, war* ich in der Wuste, die 

So braun und diirr, so braun und diirr, 

Zum Paradiese wiirde sie, 

Warst du bei mir, warst du bei mir ! 

Und war* ein K6nig ich, und war* 

Die Erde mein, die Erde mein, 

Du warst an meiner Krone doch 

Der schonste Stein, der schonste Stein. 

O WARST DU AUF DER HEIDE DORT. 

Otto Baisch. 

O warst du auf der Heide dort, 

Im rauhen Wind, im rauhen Wind, 

Ich schlange meinen Mantel warm 

Um dich, mein Kind, um dich, mein Kind ; 

Und brauste ungestum auf dich 

Das Ungliick ein, das Ungliick ein, 

Dann sollte meine treue Brust 

Dir Zuflucht sein, dir Zuflucht sein. 

Und sah* ich 6de Wildnis nur, 

Wohl fern und nah, wohl fern und nah, 

Zum Paradiese wiirde sie, 

Warst du nur da, warst du nur da ; 



A RED, RED ROSE 113 

Und fiele mir der Herrscherthron 
Des Reiches zu, des Reiches zu, 
Der schonste Stein in meiner Kron', 
Der warest du, der warest du. 



Here, of several translations, those of K. Bartsch, Otto 
Baisch, G. Legerlotz, and F. Freiligrath are really so good 
that it is difficult to express a preference. There is one 
poetic touch which, however, they all miss, and that is the 
repetition of the word " red " ; try the two expressions, 
" My love is like a red rose," and " My love is like a 
red, red rose,'' and the magic of this touch is felt. 
Freiligrath introduces it into the third line at the expense 
of fidelity ; his first verse reads — 

"Mein Lieb ist eine rothe Ros*, 
Die frisch am Stocke gliiht ; 
Eine rothe, rothe Res' ! mein Lieb 
Ist wie ein siisses Lied ! " ^ 

instead of 

"O, my luve is like a red, red rose, 
That's newly sprung in June ; 
O, my luve is like a melodic 
That's sweetly played in tune." 

I give the two following versions, without even hinting 
that those of Baisch and Legerlotz are not quite equal to 
them. 



* My love is a red rose, 
That fresh blooms on the stem ; 
A red, red rosel my love 
Is like a sweet song. 

H 



114 



BURNS IN GERMAN 

MEIN LIEB 1ST WIE DIE ROSE ROT. 

K. Bartsch. 

Mein Lieb ist wie die Rose rot, 
Die neu im Mai entsprang ; 

Mein Lieb ist wie die Melodie, 
Die siiss im Lied erklang. 

So schdn du bist, du holde Maid, 

So tief bin ich besiegt ; 
Und lieben werd' ich dicb, mein Lieb, 

Bis dass das Meer versiegt 

Bis dass das Meer versiegt, mein Lieb, 
Den Fels die Sonn' erweicht : 

So lange lieb* ich dich, mein Lieb, 
So weit mein Leben reicht 

Nun lebe wohl, mein einzig Lieb, 

Leb wohl auf kurze Zeit ; 
Ich komme wieder, war' ich auch 

Zehntausend Meilen weit 

MEIN LIEB IST EINE ROTHE ROS. 
Ferdinand Freiligrath. 

Mein Lieb ist eine rothe Ros', 
Die frisch am Stocke gliiht ; 
Eine rothe, rothe Ros' ! mein Lieb 
Ist wie ein siisses Lied ! 

Mein Lieb, so schmuck und schon du bist, 
So sehr auch lieb' ich dich ; 
Bis dass die See verlaufen ist, 
Siisse Dime, lieb* ich dich ! 

Bis dass die See verlaufen ist, 
Und der Fels zerschmilzt, mein Kind, 
Und stets, mein Lieb, so lang mein Blut 
In meinen Adem rinnt ! 

Leb' wohl, leb' wohl, mein einzig Lieb ! 
Leb' wohl auf kurze Zeit ! 
Leb' wohl ! ich kehr', und war* ich auch 
Zehntausend Meilen weit 



GAE FETCH TO ME A PINT O' WINE 113 

(S« fetch to nu H i^int a' SBttu. 

(my BONNIE MARY.) 

There are some fairly good translations of this popular 
soDg, but Mr. I^un has so caught the spirit, metre, and 
tone of the original that I content myself with giving his, 
without dealing with the defects of the others. 

GEH; hoc MIR EINEN KRUG, Etc. 



Geh", hoi' mir einen Krug voll Wein 
Und giess ibn in die Silbenasse ; 
Zum Abschied soil's getrunken sein, 
Eh' ich mejn susses Lieb' verlasse. 
Das Boot liegt an dem Pfahl von Leith, 
Der Wind streicht durch des Ufers Weiden, 
Bei Berwick sticht das SchifT in See, 
Und von Marieen muss ich scheiden. 
Das Banner fliegt, man rufi lur Schlacht 
Und schwingt die Sffcerc kiihn und muthig. 
Horch \ wie es kracht mit Donners Macht, 
Der wilde Kampf wird heiss und blutig. 
Nicht Stunngesaus, nicht Meergebraus 
Macbt mir es schwar, von bier lu scheiden, 
Nicht lahmt den Muth des Kampfes Gluth. 
Nein, dass ich Dich, Marie, soil meiden. 



^l It' the Jlttte the BBini) can ^latn 

has attracted few translators. Mr. K. Bartsch gives a 
fairly good version, and though not without defects, it 
conveys a good idea of the original. He gives the song 
in forty-eight lines. Whilst it is certain that only the first 
sixteen lines are really by the poet, the second sixteen 
lines in this version are said to have been written by 



1 1 6 BUHNS IN GERMAN 

William Reid, of Brash & Reid, Booksellers, Glasgow, 
beginning by 

" Upon the banks o' flowing Clyde." 

I venture to insert them, although they seldom appear in 
any good edition of the poet's works. The last sixteen I 
also give, though they are ascribed to John Hamilton, 
Musicseller, Edinburgh. 

VON ALLEN WINDEN, DIE DA WEHN. 

K. Bartsch. 

Von alien Winden, die da wehn, 

Lieb' ich zumeist den West, 
Im Westen lebt die holde Maid, 

Von der mein Herz nicht lasst 
Das Laub entspriesst, das Bachlein fliesst. 

Von Hiigeln rings umlacht ; 
Zu Jeannie hin fliegt all mein Sinn 

Und Traumen Tag und Nacht. 

Sie seh' ich in der Blumen Tau, 

Sie seh' ich siiss und schon, 
Sie hor* ich in der Voglein Sang 

Herab von lustigen H6hn. 
Kein holdes Bliimchen, das entspringt, 

Am Quell, im Busch, im Thai, 
Kein holdes V6glein, das da singt — 

An sie mahnt's allzumal. 

Die Madchen an dem Strand der Clyde 

Sind schon geputzt und drall ; 
Doch tragen sie ihr bestes Zeug, 

Meine Jeannie schlagt sie all. 
Im schlichten Kleid besiegt sie weit 

Die Schonste von der Stadt ; 
So jung wie alt gesteht das bald, 

Wer sie geseben hat 









OF A' THE A/RTS THE WIND CAN BLAW 117 

Das Lamm voll Lust an Mutterbnist 

Kann nicht unschuldiger sein : 
Ihr einziger Fehl, bei meiner Seel', 

War* ihre Lieb* allem. 
Ihr Augenpaar, so hell und klar 

Wie Tau, an Glanze reich ; 
An Huldgestalt ist niemand halt 

Der siissen Jeannie gleich. 

O wehe, Westwind, wehe sanft 

Im schattenreichen Hain ; 
Im Abendstrahl bring aus dem Thai 

Das fleissige Bienchen heim, 
Und bring mein Madchen mir zuriick, 

Mein Madchen schmuck und drall ; 
Ihr Lacheln weich bannt Sorge gleich, 

Ihr Zauber wirkt das all. 

Der Hligel dort manch Liebeswort 

Von mir und ihr vernahm ! 
Wie that uns weh das letzt' Ade, 

Ach ! als der Abschied kam. 
Dem Herrn allein kann kundig sein, 

Der Hohn und Tiefen misst, 
Dass nichts so wert mir auf der Erd' 

Als meine Jeannie ist 

||e |Bank0 anb |BrHe0 0' ^Bonnie ^Qtrx. 

This song has attracted several translators, but they 
nearly all miss its minor musical note and pathetic 
charm. Without reviewing the various versions I give Mr. 
A. Laun's, as it seems to me the best 

AM UFER DBS DOON, 
Adolf Laun. 

O Feld und Au am schonen Doon, 
Wie ihr so frisch und frohlich bliiht, 
Wie, V6gel, k6nnt Ihr singen jetzt, 
Da triib' und traurig mein Gemiith ? 



1 1 8 BURNS IN GERMAN 

Du brichst, o Vogel, mir das Herz, 
Der wirbelnd dort im Dornbusch singt 
Du mahnst mich an vergang'ne Lust, 
Die Niemand, Niemand, wiederbringt I 

Oft wallt' ich hier am schonen Doon, 
Wo Lilien stehn beim Rosenstrauch, 
Der Vogel sang von seiner Lieb*, 
Und von der meinen sang ich auch. 
Mit frohem Herzen pfliickt' ich da 
Vom Rosenstrauch die schonste Zier^ 
Die Rose stahl der falsche Freund, 
Den Dorn, den Dom, ach I liess er mir. 



John Jlnb^r0on, mg Jo. 

The pictures drawn in the "Cottar's Saturday Night" 
are often quoted, and very properly quoted, as amongst 
the highest ideals of happy, well-lived, rustic married life 
and love, and there are ftw readers who will not readily 
join in the poet's words — 

"From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs, 
That makes her loved at home, revered abroad : 
Princes and lords are but the breath of kings, 
*An honest man's the noblest work of God."' 

It has always seemed to me to be the natural develop- 
ment of that charming picture of youthful love — a picture 
not surpassed, if indeed equalled, in the splendid gallery 
of Bums's creation — 

"If heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare. 

One cordial in this melancholy vale, 
Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair. 

In other's arms breathe out the tender tale. 
Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale"; 

but in " John Anderson " I have often felt that he touches 
a still tenderer chord than those which are struck even 



—.' -I.*.— 



JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO 119 

in the "Saturday Night" What can surpass the "flood 
of great remembrance " and memories that crowd around 
the words, 

" We clamb the hill thegither ; 
And mony a canty day, John, 
WeVe had wi' ane anither."? 

The closing lines are also unequalled in their deep 
pathos and unchanging and eternal love. The "shadow 
feared by man" has no terrors for this true wife's faith 
and feeling. She is ready to "totter doon" life's hill, 
whilst "hand in hand they go," and, beautiful in their 
lives, they will not in death be divided — 

"And sleep thegither at the foot, 
John Anderson, my jo." 

Now, though all the authors to whom we have hitherto 
referred — except Legerlotz — have been drawn to try and 
clothe this sweetest song with German drapery, the 
magic is not there. We are told that Sir Joshua Reynolds 
was taken by a friend to see a picture. He was anxious 
to admire it, and examined it with a keen and careful, 
but favourable eye. " Capital composition, correct drawing, 
the colour, tone, chiaroscuro excellent; but, but, it 
wants — hang it, it wants * That I* " snapping his fingers. 
So these translations want " That ! " Some, indeed, want 
more. 

Winterfeld, for instance, so changes the sentiments that 
the canty dame, who from the original, one feels is " bom 
to be loved" and to cheer her guidman through life and 
even at its close, is transformed into a grumbling shadow, 
recalling not the " canty " but the cloudy days of the past. 

"Wir gingen Beid' bergauf, 
Und mancher triibe Tag, John, 



120 BURNS IN GERMAN 

Erschwerte unser'n Lauf. 

Jetzt stackeln, Hand in Hand, John, 

Wir miide neiderwarts, 

Und nicken zusammen ein dann.'^' 

Can anything be more unlike the spirit and feeling of 
the original — pleasant in past memories, and cheery and 
hopeful for the future? 

"We clamb the hill thegither; 
And mony a canty day, John, 

We*ve had wi* ane anither : 
Now we maun totter down, John, 

But hand in hand we'll go ; 
And sleep thegither at the foot, 

John Anderson, my jo." 

A. Laun's version is rendered very fairly as to the 

literal meaning, but it is hard and unmusical. Try how 

the second verse sounds, and it is not the most 

offending — 

"Jetzt ist so kahl Dein Haupt, John, 
Jetzt sind die Locken weiss, 
Doch segne Gott Dich, Greis ! 
John Anderson, mein Lieb, John," 

then try the music of the original — 

" But now your brow is held, John, 
Your locks are like the snow ; 
But blessings on your frosty pow, 
John Anderson, my jo," 

K. Bartsch gives a somewhat kindlier rendering, 
" Das Haar wie Schnee im Mars," 

*We both went^p the hill, 
And many a cloudy day, John, 
Made our path more difficult ; 
Now we stagger, hand in hand, John, 
Tired downwards, 
And fidi asleep tc^ether then. 



JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO 121 

and other lines being again identical with Winterfeld's 
rendering. And in the second verse it wants the touching 
pathos of the word "thegither," which Bums uses with 
such effect in the second and seventh lines of the last 
verse — 

"John Anderson, my jo, John, 

We clamb the hill thegither\ 
And mony a canty day, John, 

We've had wi* ane anither : 
Now we maun totter down, John, 

But hand in hand we'll go ; 
And sleep ihegither at the foot, 

John Anderson, my jo." 

The charm is lost by the omission of this touch, in 

"John Anderson, mein Herz, John, 

Wir klommen Hiigel au£i 
Und manchen frohen Tag, John, 

Bracht' uns des Lebens Lauf ; 
Nun wackeln Hand in Hand, John, 

Wir beide niederwarts, 
Und schlafen an des Hugels Fuss, 

John Anderson, mein Herz." 

Otto Baisch spoils a good rendering by a change in the 
second verse, and the last four lines are poorly done. 

■ 

" But now your brow is held " 

he omits, and substitutes 

" Dein Auge matt und triib." ^ 

Now, Burns makes no such reference, knowing that 
such men at John's age usually retain one of the char- 
acteristics of the Jewish leader, " His eye is not dim." 
And the last four lines, 

' Thine eye weary and dim. 



laa BURNS IN GERMAN 

" Und mag es nun hinabgehn, 
Wenn Hand in Hand nur blieb, 
Dann schlafen wir vereint am Fuss, 
John Anderson, mein Lieb,"' 

by such doublings and vagueness never, never convey 
even an echo of the original — 

" Now we maun totter down, John, 
But hand in hand weV go ; 
And sleep thegither at the foot, 
John Anderson, my jo." 

Silbergleit also spoils a somewhat pretty rendenng by 
repeated references to John's age. Now it is a loving touch 
that the references are made in the original simply to the 
marks of time upon his appearance ; such words as " my 
old John," and "thy old head," spoil the pathetic charm 
of the original With this exception it is not without 
merit, though somewhat cold. 

HANS ANDERSEN, MEIN MANS. 

L. G. Silbergleit. 

Hans Andersen, mein alter Hans, 
Zuerst, als ich dich hatt", 
Da war dein Haar noch rabenschwan 
Und deine Stime glatt. 

Die Stim, die ist geninzelt jetzL 
Dein Haar ist schneeig gani. 
Gesegnet sei dein alter Kopf, 
Hans Andersen, mein Hans. 



' And may it be now lo go down, 
// hand ia hand only lemains ; 
Then we sleep uniled at the foot, 
John Anderson, my dear. 



'. .-a- '^aUtf^L^mmamrttt^' 



-re--5'. 



.-»— — rrir- 



JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO 123 

So g^ngen wir, mein alter Hans, 
Bergan, bergan selbander. 
Wir lebten manchen Tag, mein Hans, 
Recht frdhlich mit einander. 

Bergab nun geht's, mein alter Hans, 
Im Abendsonnenglanz. 
Zusammen schlafen unten wir, 
Hans Andersen, mein Hans. 

£. Ruete catches, as is usual with this author, the spirit 
of the song, but takes greatly away from the beauty of 
the rendering, indeed, spoils it altogether, by weak and 
harsh lines. 

"Die Stirn so glatt nicht blieb"' 
is much too weak for 

" But now your brow is held, John,*' 
and 

"Selbander ruh*n wir drunten" 

is too unharmonious for such a melodious song. 

F. Freiligrath. This accomplished writer gives an easy, 
flowing translation, though it is not without some of the 
defects noticed above. " Triib dein Aug* " (dim thine eye) 
is an unwelcome addition, and 

" Doch Hand in Hand I komm, gib' 
Sie mir ! in einem Grab ruhn wir, " * 

though passable in an ordinary writer, is hardly what one 
would have expected from Mr. Freiligrath as a rendering of 

" But hand in hand we'll go 
And sleep thegither at the foot" 

The complete translation runs as follows : — 



^ The brow did not remsdn so smooth. 
'But hand in hand, come, give 
It me ! we rest in one grave. 



1 24 BURNS IN GERMAN 

JOHN ANDERSON, MEIN LIEB, JOHN 
Ferdinand Freiligrath. 

John Anderson, mein Lieb, John, 

Als ich zuerst dich sah, 

Wie dunkel war dein Haar, und 

Wie glatt dein Antlitz da ! 

Doch jetzt ist kahl dein Haupt, John, 

Schneeweiss dein Haar, und triib 

Dein Aug* ; doch Heil und Segen dir, 

John Anderson, mein Lieb ! 

John Anderson, mein Lieb, John, 
Bergauf stiegst du mit mir ; 
Und manchen lust'gen Tag, John, 
Zusammen hatten wir. 
Nun geht's den Berg hinab, John, 
Doch Hand in Hand ! komm, gib 
Sie mir ! in einem Grab ruhn wir, 
John Anderson, mein Lieb I 

^Q clttarp in ^eaben. 

Before leaving the pathetic love songs of Burns I would 
like to consider the translations of what may be called his 
song of ' Idealized Love,' entitled "To Mary in Heaven.** 
It is astonishing that a language so rich in love lyrics has 
not been employed with more effect in reproducing this 
matchless song into German. 

L. G. Silbergleit's version can only be read with pain 
if intended to be a serious effort at translation. The 
quotation of the first four lines is sufficient — 

" Du Morgenstern, so spat, so bleich. 
So schienst du auch vor einem Jahr, 
Als, weh mir, noch in Todtenreich 
Marie nicht hingegangen war."^ 

^ Thou morning star, so late, so pale, 
So thou appearedest also, one year ago, 



TO MARY IN HEAVEN 



"5 



It is difficult to believe that this is meant to express the 
origiDal in any sense, and one is tempted to wonder if 
the author has read 

" Thou lingering star, with lessening ray, 
That lov'st to greet the early mom, 
Again thou usher'st in the day 
My Mary from my soul was torn." 

The remaining verses are generally only too true to this 
beginning. 

A. V. Winterfeld's rendering is very good, but is spoiled 
by the first four lines, 

" Du Stern im miiden Morgenstrahl, 
Du flohst nicht mit der Finstemiss ; 
Du bliebst, zu schau'n des Tages Qual, 
Der Mary mir vom Herzen riss."^ 

This is poor enough. It is, however, only fair to say that 
the remaining verses are much better, and, but for the 
above, would have formed a passable translation. 

£. Ruete has not succeeded here; indeed he is below 
the average of excellence to an extent unusual in his gener- 
ally commendable translations. There are too many weak 
lines; for instance, 

"Du spater Stem, der bleich und fahl,"' 

is not rendered with his usual happiness, for 

" Thou lingering star, with lessening ray " ; 
and he misses the true meaning of the marvellous picture 

When, woe's me, into the kingdom of the dead 

Mary had not yet entered. 
^ Thou star in the weary morning ray. 

Thou fled'st not with the darkness; 

Thou did'st remain to see the anguish of the day, 

Which tore Mary from my heart. 
'Thou late star, which pale and faint. 



1 26 BURNS IN GERAfAN 

in the third verse — a picture which shows the all-absorbing 
strength of the love portrayed by Bums. The poet there 
shows not only that he feels that love with every throb 
of his own heart, but images every object in nature, by 
which he and his loved one are surrounded, as filled with 
the same ecstatic passion. Just look at the imagery in the 
original for a moment, — at this marvellous scene of love — 

" Ayr, gurgling, kissed his pebbled shore, 

O'erhung with wild woods' thickening green ; 

The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar. 
Twined anurous round the raptured scene ; 

The flowers sprang wanton to be firest^ 
The birds sang love on ev^ry spray." 

He changes in this magic picture all these objects of 
nature from their ordinary character, and transforms 
them, as it were, into ethereal beings, wafting love 
messages from their own tumultuous ecstasy. Now see 
how all this is overlooked and unfelt, or, if felt, un- 
expressed. 

" Du kiisstest, Ayr, den blum'gen Rain, 
Dicht iiber dir die Waldnacht hing. 

Von Birk und Hagedorn ein Hain' 
Zartlich den seFgen Ort umfing. 

Ein Lager winkle, weich und griin, 
Und Liebe sang der Vogel Lied,"* 

This is a very loving picture in itself, it would scarcely 
be Ruete's if it were not, but it misses that personifica- 
tion of the objects and the enjoyment of these 

^ Thou, Ayr, kissed the flowery bank, 
Thick over thee the forest night hung ; 

A grove of birk and hawthorn 
Tenderly encircled the happy place, 

A couch invited, soft and green, 
And the song of the birds was love. 



i*'L'^ ' ~*-^ 



TO MARY IN HEAVEN 127 

feelings of love wherein the charm of the original con- 
sists. 

Adolf Laun sins here to a much greater extent; for 
Ruete does sound a note of the music which fills this 
third verse, but Mr. Laun seems ignorant of its existence. 

"Der Air rollte murmelnd bei uns nieder, 
Von Gras umsaumt, durch glatters Kiesgestein, 
Und Birkenreis, verwebt mit Dorn und Flieder, 
Schloss unsres Gliickes stillen Schauplatz ein, 
Die Blumen hatten ihren Kelch erschlossen, 
Auf alien Zweigen froher Liederklang.'*^ 

This, it will be observed, can scarcely be called a trans- 
lation of the original, and the same remark applies to the 
greater part of Laun's version. It is a charming song 
in itself, but it is not Burns's "To Mary in Heaven." 
The metre of the original is departed from entirely, which 
also affects the work as a translation. A peculiarity of 
some of these translators is that they, with not the 
poetical precision of Bums, but with a kind of foot-rule 
would-be exactness, or in order to form a rhyme, state 
how long it was after *^Mary from his soul was torn,'' 
before Bums wrote this touching and pathetic melody. 
Imagine Burns guilty of such an inartistic touch I But 
Laun says it was the second year — 

** Verkundest Du mir schon zum zweiten Male " ; ' 

Silbergleit says it was within the year — 

* Ajnr rolled down murmuring by us, 
Hemmed in by grass, through smooth pebble stones, 
And birchen sprays, interwoven with thorn and elder. 
Enclosed the quiet scene of our happiness. 
The flowers had opened their cups. 
On all branches joyful sound of song. 

' Thou dost announce to me already for the second time. 



1 28 BURNS IN GERMAN 

" So schient's, du auch vor einem Jahr " ; * 
but Legerlotz takes a much greater latitude, like his 
" Weltgeschicht " in "Robin," and makes it the third 
year — 

"Du bringst den Tag zum drittenmal." * 

Legerlotz's version fails also to echo the charm of 
this song, as may be inferred from this "drittenmal" 
indication. The third verse is as far from the original 
as is possible ; he seems only to think that a pretty place 
is to be described, without even hinting at the features 
which give its charms to the original He says 

"Du kostest, Ayr, mit Kies und Grand 
In dichter Walder griiner Schluft ; 
Hold um die sePge Szene wand 
Sich Weissdornschnee und Birkenduft 
O, Girren schoU aus Zweig und Nest, 
Zum Pfiihl bot Blumenschmelz sich froh/' 

One is forced to transcribe the original figain to feel how 
the melody of its love-music is upechoed in this purely 
material description — 

"Ayr, gurgling, kissed bis pebbled shore, 

O'erhung with wild woods' thickening green ; 

The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar, 
Twined amorous round the raptured scene ; 

The powers sprang wanton to be prest, 
The birds sang love on ev^ry spray." 

Otto Baisch gives a beautiful rendering of this verse, 
which is refreshing to meet after the above disappoint- 
ments — 

"Die Wellen kiissten weich den Strand, 
Von griinen Zweigen iiberhaiigen, 

^ So appeared thou also one year ago. 

' Thou bringest the day for the third time. 




^^^, 



TO MARY IN HEAVEN lag 

Die, trie von Leidenschaft entbrannt, 
Sich zartlich ineinander schlangen. 
Die Knospen lechiten aufiubliihn, 
Die Vogcl sangcn liebestmnken," ' 
He fails in 

"The flowers sprang wanion lo be prest," 
as his 

" Die Knospen leclizten aufzubliihn " 
conveys a weaker meaning and less impassioned feeling. 
Notwithstanding this and one or two weak renderings, it is 
a good translation, though I think it is excelled by K. 
Bartsch. This writer seems to have caught the inspira- 
tion of the song in a high degree— and the crucial third 
verse is given with essential fidelity. He makes one slip 
which might easily have been avoided. 

"The birds sang love on every spray" 
he renders by 

" Dcr Vogel sang von Lieb' in Nest"* 
Few birds, .in Scotland at least, sing in iluir nests. 
Bums knew this, and, according to him, they sing on 
every spray. 

AN HARY IN HIMMEU 

K. Bartsch. 
Noch sSumst du. Stem, mit mattem Stiabl, 
Dem Morgenrot voraniuiiehen, 

* The waves softly kissed the strand. 
Overhung bjr green spiays, 
Which, as if aflsme with puitoo. 
Entwined themselves tecdecly. 

The buds panted lo burst into blossom; 
The birds sang, intorioted wilh lov«. 

* The bird ung of love in the nesL 



130 BURNS IN GERMAN 

Bringst wieder mir den Tag einmal, 
Der mir vom Herzen riss Marien. 

O teurer Schatten, o Marie, 
Wo weilst du jetzt in seliger Lust ? 

Siehst du den Liebsten trauem hie ? 
Horst du die Seufzer seiner Brust ? 

Den Tag vergess* ich nimmermehr, 

Den heiligen Hain, ach ! wie wir beiden 
Uns trafen am gewundnen Ayr, 

Ein Tag zu lieben— und zu scheiden. 
Nein ! keine Ewigkeit erstickt 

Mir der Erinnrung Hochgenuss, 
Wie sic beim letzten Kuss geblickt — 

Wer dacht', es war* ein letzter Kuss ? 

Der Fiuss sein Ufer kiisste leis', 

Den wilde Walder dicht umbliihen, 
Und Birk' und Hagdom bliitenweiss 

Umschlangen sich in Liebesgliihen. 
Die Knospe schwoll vor Lieb' im Hag, 

Der Vogel sang von Lieb' im Nest, 
Bis, ach ! zu bald den fliichtigen Tag 

Zum Schlummer rief der gliihnde West 1 

Auf jenem Tag voll Lust und Leid 

Weilt stets mein Geist in triibem Sinnen. 
Nur tiefer macht den Gram die Zeit, 

Gleich wie der Strom die Wasserrinnen. 
O teurer Schatten, o Marie, 

Wo weilst du jetzt in seliger Lust ? 
Siehst du den Liebsten trauem hie ? 

Horst du die Seufzer seiner Brust? 



^nncan (Stag. 

I will now examine the translations of one or two of 
the humorous love songs which Bums has expressed with 
so much naivete and real humour, and the first I take is 
" Duncan Gray." 



DUNCAN GRAY 



131 



L. G. Silbergleit This writer commences his translation 
very well, but, as is too often the case with him, leaves the 
original for weak notions of his own. One of his super- 
stitions seems to be that one can only be drowned in a 
pond. Thus in "Tam o* Shanter" he renders 

"Thou would be found deep drown*d in Doon" 
by 

" Man dich heraus werd* fischen aus dem Tcich." * 

He must have his "Teich" even in "Auld Lang Syne," 
rendering 

"We twa hae paid'lt in the bum," 
" Zusammen fuhren wir im Teich " ; 

and here again Duncan "Spak* o' lowpin' o'er a linn" is 
similarly dealt with. The highest tragedy which lovelorn 
swains, portrayed by former poets, threatened to enact was 
to 'hang themselves with the apron-strings of their cruel 
mistresses.' Burns raised humour to the highest pitch 
by putting the threat of a more tragic end into Duncan's 
lips, and to have it suddenly reduced to 

"In den Teich zu springen droht"* 

is almost humiliating, and sufficient to ruin any translation. 
Then again 

" Duncan was a lad o* grace," 

rendered by 

" Dunkan, der war schmuck und schlank," ' 

wae's me, is intolerable. Whatever has the fact of Duncan 
being "trim and slender" to do with the explanation of 
his kindly behaviour after Meg has come to her senses? 



^ They would fish thee out of the pond. 
'Threatens to leap into the pond. 
'Duncan who was trim and slender. 



13^ 
Then 



for 



BURNS IN GERMAN 



'^Dunkan es erbarmte, dass 
Alte Lieb' erwarmte, dass 
Sich als Paar umarmte,"* 



** Duncan could na be her death, 
Swelling pity smoor'd his wrath ; 
Now they're crouse and canty baith,** 

is quite absurd. 

"Croose and canty" is, of course, untranslatable, but 
the rendering of the above lines by "Sich als Paar 
umarmte," exceeds all license, and such a departure from 
the graphic and expressive description of the dknoue- 
tnent in the original entirely robs this production of any 
claim to be considered a reasonably acceptable translation. 

O. Baisch gives a fairly good version, but spoils it by 
a few weak lines, and especially by changing the features 
of some of the pictures. Thus he gives 

**Denkt an Teich und Todesgraus," * 
which is much too weak for 

" Spak* o* lowpin' o'er a linn," 

and then 

"Aus der schweren Brust gemach 

Loste sich manch leises Ach, 

Aus dem Aug* ein Thranenbach ; " ' 

is unbearable. 

There is no poet who refers so often to the effects of 
the eye in love scenes as does Bums. The " Blinks o' the 

* Duncan took pity, that 
Old love warmed, that 
They as a pair embraced. 

'Thinks of the pond and death-horror. 

* Gently from her sad breast 
Escapes many a soft Ah ! 
From her eye a stream of tears. 



»^,*-" 



DUNCAN GRAY 



"^ZZ 



bonnie black e'en," which occur ever and anon in his love 
songs, are as truthful as they are faithfully expressed, and 
here we have one of his happiest hits — 

"And O, her e'en, they spak' sic things," 
which K. Bartsch renders so happily, 

" Und, ach, was ihr Auge sprach," 
transformed into 

" From her eyes a brook of tears,'* 

showing that the writer has missed not only the beauty of 
the original, but also Bums's unique power in his descrip- 
tion of such love episodes. 

K. Bartsch has caught the spirit of the piece, and 
renders it with more than moderate fidelity.^ 

G. Legerlotz. This writer's version is somewhat dis- 
appointing. It contains many of the lines of the other 
translators transposed into the dialect in which he writes. 
He rather interferes with the smoothness of the lines by 
adopting, like Otto Baisch and L. G. Silbergleit, Gretchen 
and Gret for Maggie and Meg. 

I observe the following line from Silbergleit — 

"Zeit und Cluck sind Ebb und Flut": 

which Legerlotz gives unchanged. 
From Otto Baisch, 

" Denkt an Teich und Todesgraus " 

is rendered 

" Schwatzt von Unketeich und Tod," 
and 

"Aus dem Aug* ein Thrancnbach" 

is rendered 

"Und lug, ihr Aug rinnt wie e Bach." 

^ See page 134. 



i 



'34 



BURNS IN GERMAN 



From K. Bartsch, 

"Von der stolzen Maid behext 
Bleib du, wo der Pfeffer wachst," 

is rendered 

"Von eim stolze Ding verhext 
Geh sie, wo der Pfeffer wachst." 

This is poor for 

"Shall I, like a fool, quoth he, 
For a haughty hizzie dee ? 
She may gae to — France for me." 

It almost looks as if Legerlotz had adopted the above 
from these writers, which opinion I am the more drawn 
to, as they are weaker and less faithful to the original 
than his other lines. 

DUNCAN GRAY. 
K. Bartsch. 

Duncan kam als Freier her, 

Haha, die Freierei ; 
Wir waren all betrunken schwer, 

Haha, die Freierei ! 
Maggie warf den Kopf empor, 
Sah ihn schief an iibers Ohr, 
Dass er ganz den Mut verlor ; 

Haha, die Freierei ! 

Duncan bat und Duncan fleht', 

Haha, die Freierei ! 
Sie that, als wenn sie nichts versteht, 

Haha, die Freierei ! 
Duncan seufzte fiirchterlich, 
Weinte blind die Augen sich, 
Sprach : ich stiirz* ins Wasser mich— 

Haha, die Freierei ! 

Doch die Zeit geht ihren Gang, 
Haha, die Freierei ; 



DUNCAN GRAY 

Verschmahte Liebe wahrt nicht lang* ; 

Haha, die Freierei 1 
Bin ich, las er sich den Text, 
Von der stolzen Maid behext ? 
Bleib du, wo der Pfeffer wachst ! 

Haha, die Freierei ! 

Thu' der Arzt das Weitre kund, 

Haha, die Freierei ; 
Meg ward krank und er gesund, 

Haha, die Freierei ! 
Liebe wird im Herzen wach, 
Trost ersehnend seufzt sie ach I 
Und, ach ! was ihr Auge sprach 1 

Haha, die Freierei ! 

Duncan hat ein gutes Herz, 

Haha, die Freierei ; 
Und ihn dauert Maggies Schmerz, 

Haha, die Freierei ! 
Wollt* er ihren Tod ? ci wo ! 
Mitleid siegt, der Zom entfloh — 
Nun sind beide frei und froh ! 

Haha, die Freierei ! 



DUNCAN, 
GUSTAV Legerlotz. 

Der Duncan kamm zer Freit doher, 

— Haha, dos nenn i frein ! — 
Wir ware grad vom Jultrank schwer. 

— Haha, d6s nenn i frein ! — 
Schau, der Greti schwoll der Kropf, 
Sie blinzt verquer und reckt den Kopf, 
Trumpft ihn ab, den arme Tropf. 
— Haha, dos nenn i frein 1 — 

Duncan barmt und Duncan fleht ; 

— Haha, dos nenn i frein 1 — 
Taub wie Eichholz bleibt die Gret. 

— Haha, dds nenn i frein 1 — 



135 



136 BURNS IN GERMAN 

Duncan seufzt sei schwerste Not, 
Greint sei Augen ritzerot, 
Schwatzt von Unketeich und Tod. 
— Haha, d6s nenn i frein ! — 

Zeit und Gliick sind Ebb und Flut : 

— Haha, dos nenn i frein ! — 
Verschmahte Lieb schafft arge Mut 

— Haha, dos nenn i frein ! — 
" Blix 1 dos war e neuer Text, 
Von eim stolze Ding verhext I 
Geh sic, wo der Pfeffer wachst ! " 

— Haha, dos nenn i frein ! — 

Gelt, d5s isch e Doktersfrag : 

— Haha, dos nenn i frein 1 — 
£r wird heil, sie krank und zag. 

— Haha, dos nenn i frein ! — 
Ihr Herzle druckt e bose Sach, 
Lindrung sucht's in mengem Ach ; 
Und lug, ihr Aug rinnt wie e Bach. 

— Haha, dos nenn i frein I — 

Duncan war kei Isegrimm, 

— Haha, d6s nenn i frein — 
Und Gretis Fall isch gar ze schlimm, 

— Haha, dos nenn i frein ! — 
" Willst warte, bis der Tod sie hoi ? 
Herz, vergiss den alte Kohl ! " — 
Jetz sind beid gar wieselswohl. 

— Haha, dos nenn i frein I — 

It is disappointing that the very few translators who 
have tried this song do not seem to realize the perfection 
of its humour or the simplicity of the drama, and how 
true it is to country life. A. v. Winterfeld actually sends 
the maiden instead of the wooer to her " black cousin's *' 
house, and he calls the rival her Tante Bessie (her Aunt 



LAST MAY A BRA W WOOER 



137 



Bessie), whilst the naive queries he represents the heroine 
as putting to the said aunt direct, instead of to her fickle 
wooer — 

"Wie wurdc mir bang, als er wirklich nun fort — 
Ich musst' meine Tante 'mal sehen ; 
Ich fand meinen Freier naturlich noch dort''^ 

And again, the lines 

" Ich fragte der Tante gar lieblich und sUss, 
Wie's ware mit ihrem Schwerhoren," 2 

are intended to represent the well-known pictures 

" But a* the neist week, as I fretted wi* care, 
I gacd to the tryste o' Dalgarnock, 
And wha but my fine fickle lover was there I '' 

" I spier'd for my cousin, fu' couthy and sweet, 
Gin she had recovered her hearin*/* 

We are told by Mr. Winterfeld how the loon fell a-swearin*. 
From the manner in which he paints the scene one 
would have expected some forcible language to have 
come from other lips as well. 

The above will show that this version cannot possibly 
be taken as a reproduction of the original song. It is to 
be regretted that the translator did not follow up the 
spirit and manner of the first three verses, which are 
very good. I do not give them, as the first two verses 
are, word for word, the same as K. Bartsch's version 
(another instance of the exact similarity of words so often 
used by these two writers). I give this version as it comes 
nearer to the original, so that the reader may judge of its 

^ How uneasy I was when he really was off. 

I must really see my aunt. 

I found my wooer, of course, still there. 
^ I asked my aunt quite kindly and sweet, 

How her deafness was. 



138 BURNS IN GERMAN 

merit. In some lines it is inferior to VVinterfeld's ; for 
instance, Bartsch gives 

" Eine Kiste veil Geld, und sich selbst als den Herrn," * 
instead of 

"A weel-stockM mailin — himseP for the laird,*' 

which Winterfeld renders much more correctly and, indeed, 
almost literally, 

"Ein freundliches Gut, und er selber der Herr." 

Such cases are rare, and Bartsch's last few verses are 
exceedingly good. 

G. Legerlotz's reproduction is also fairly good through- 
out, though here and there it is marred by such a line as 

"Do ging i ufs Amt in den Flecken," 

which does away with the movement of the song suggested 
by the words, 

" I gacd to the Tryste o* Dalgarnock," 

and by one or two others which I need not specially 
notice, as I give the version itself. 

L\f AfAI KAM EIN FREIER, 
K. Bartsch. 

Im Mai kam ein Freier herunter das Thai 
Und woUte die Ruhe mir rauben, 

Ich sagt' ihm, ich hasste die Manner zumal, 
Das mOcht* cr, zum Teufel ! mir glauben, mir glauben, 
Das mocht' er, zum Teufel ! mir glauben ! 

Er sprach, dass mein Aug* ihn genommen zum Ziel, 

Er stiirbe fiir mich mit Vergniigen ; 
Ich sprach, dass er's thun soUte, wann*s ihm gefier ; 

O Himmel, verzeih mir das Liigen, das Liigen, 

O Himmel, verzeih mir das Liigen ! 



^ A chest full of money, and himself for the laird. 



9-1 



LAST MAY A BRAJV WOOER 139 

Eine Kiste vol! Geld und sich selbst als den Herm 

Bot er, seine Glut zu erharten ; 
Ich that zwar, als hort' ich das alles nicht gem, 

Doch dacht' : es gfibt schlimmre Offerten, Offerten, 

Doch dacht' : es g^bt schlimmre Offerten. 

Was meint ihr ? zwei Wochen kaum waren noch um, 

Zum Teufel mit seinem Geschmacke ! 
Scharwenzt' er um Bessy, mein Baschen, herum, 

Ich konnt' ihr die Augen aushacken, aushacken, 

Ich konnt' ihr die Augen aushacken. 

Ich schleppt' eine Woche den Aerger wohl fort, 

Da muss nach Dalgamock ich gehen : 
Wen sonst als den Treulosen fand ich wohl dort ? 

Ich guckt', als ob Spuk ich gesehen, gesehen, 

Ich guckt', als ob Spuk ich gesehen. 

Doch iiber die Schulter sah hold ich ihn an, 
Dass niemand es merkt' in dem Stadtchen ; 

Mein Freier der hlipfte, als war* er im Thran, 
Und schwur, ich sei wieder sein Madchen, sein Madchen, 
Und schwur, ich sei wieder sein Madchen. 

Ich fragte die Base gar freundlich und siiss, 

Wie's stande mit ihrem Schwerhoren, 
Und ob ihr noch immer rheumatisch die Fiiss' — 

Herr Gott, fing er da an zu schworen, zu schworen, 

Herr Gott, fing er da an zu schworen ! 

Er bat mich, beim Himmel, zu werden sein Weib, 

Sonst wiirden ihn t5ten die Sorgen ; 
Und, um zu erhalten den Armen bei Leib, 

Ich denke, so nehm' ich ihn morgen, ihn morgen, 

Ich denke, so nehm* ich ihn morgen. 

DER FREIER, 
GUSTAV Lf.gerlotz. 

Im Mai kam e stattlicher Freier ze Thai, 

Sei Geplausch that die Sinne mir raube ; 
Doch i sagt ihm, i hasste die Manner zemal. 

Zum Teuxel, wer hiess es ihn glaube, ihn glaube, 

Zum Teuxel, wer hiess es ihn glaube ! 



I40 



BURNS IN GERMAN 

Er sprach vo meim Aug, vo meim siisse Gesicht, 

Und ohne mi konn er nit lebe. 
Doch i sagt im : So sterbt ! Bess kiimmert das nicht. 

Gott mag mir mei Liige vergebe, vergebe, 

Gott mag mir mei Liige vergebe. 

Sci Gebot war c Giitle mit reichlicher Sach. 
Und e Heirat ohne Verzieben ; 

I zuckte die Achseln, as frogt i nit nach, 
Doch i dacht : Es hat schlechtre Partieen, Partieen, 
Doch i dacht : Es hat schlechtre Partieen. 

Was meint ihr ? Zwei Wochen nur mochten es sein, 

Do nimmt ihn der Teuxel beim Wickel 1 
Er schwanzlet im Pferch um mei Basle Kathrein. 

Der sollt ich ihn gonne, dem Nickel, dem Nickel, 

Der sollt ich ihn gonne, dem N ickel ? 

Am Samstig, zermartert vo mennigem Plan, 

Do ging i ufs Amt in den Flecken. 
Wen treff i ? Mein lustige, feine Kumpan. 

Wie e Spuk so that's mi verschrecke, verschrecke, 

Wie e Spuk so that's mi verschrecke. 

Still blinz ich ihm uber die Schulter eins zu, 
Sust belfern die Weibsen im Platzle. 

Als hatt er eins trunke, so stolpert mei Bu 

Und flUstert : Du bleibst do mei Schatzle, mei Schatzle, 
Und fliistert : Du bleibst do mei Schatzle 1 

I frogt ihn : Wie schaut*s mit der giitige Bas ? 

Und kann sie vo neuem scho hore ? 
Und hupft nu das Storchbein so frisch wie der Has ? 

Doch Himmel, wie fiel er ufs Schwore, ufs Schwore^ 

Doch Himmel, wie fiel er ufs Schwore I 

Er bettelt : Bi Gott, nu werde mei Weib, 

Sust muss i ze Tod mi no grame ! 
I mein, 's war halter doch schad um sein Leib, 

Drum will ich ihn morge nur nehnie, nur nehme, 

Drum will ich ihn morge nur nehme 1 



/ HAE A WIFE a MY AIN 



141 



3E hae a SDife si mg aiu 

is rendered pretty equally, and fairly well, by various 
translators. A. Laun docs not quite catch the measure, 
and rather spoils the rhythm, of the original by using 
the word "keiner" instead of "Niemand." G. Legerlotz 
gives the correct metre, and perhaps renders the poem 
most literally. Bartsch's and Winterfeld's are very similar, 
having again many lines identical. I give Bartsch's, merely 
saying that the line, 

" Ich dank's auf Erden Niemand" 
would be better rendered, I think, by 

" Fiir Dieses dank' ich Niemand." 

ICH HAB* EIN WEIB FUR MICH ALLEIS. 

K. Bartsch. 

Ich hab' ein Weib fiir mich allein 

Und teile das mit niemand, 
Ich will von niemand Hahnrei sein 

Und Hahnrei sein fiir niemand. 
Das bisschen Geld, das ich noch haV, 

Ich dank's auf Erden niemand ; 
Auf Borg ich niemals etwas gab, 

Doch borg' ich auch von niemand. 

Bin niemands Herr, zu keiner Zeit, 

Und bin ein Knecht von niemand ; 
Ich hab' ein Schwert, ist gut und breit. 

Drum darf mich schlagen niemand. 
Frob will ich sein und lustiglich 

Und traurig sein um niemand, 
Und kiimmert niemand sich um mich, 

So kiimmr' ich mich um niemand. 

fflhidtle otore the '^t^st 0't 

has only tempted Legerlotz and K. Bartsch. The 
former has so many lines unhappily rendered that it is 



142 



BURNS IN GERMAN 



scarcely worth while to examine it or give it at length. 
Bartsch's version is a little better, but far from perfect, 
as the reader may see. 

AUF DAS ANDRE PFEIP ICH 
K. Bartsch. 

Als nach Meg ich seufzte schwer, 

Schien sie mir ein Engel hehr ; 

Seit der Hochzeit — fragt nicht mehr — 

Auf das andre pfeif ich. 
Meg war weich und sanft gesinnt, 
Meg war ein natiirlich Kind ; 
Kliigre schon betrogen sind — 

Auf das andre pfeif ich. 

Wie wir leben, Meg und ich, 

Wie wir lieben inniglich, 

Wenn man's weiss, was kiimmert's mich ? 

Auf das andre pfeif ich. 
Wiinsch' den Maden ein Gericht, 
In Megs Leinen angericht't ; 
Schreiben konnt* ich's — sah* sie's nicht — 

Auf das andre pfeif' ich. 

This humorous piece is so full of "by ord'nar'" expres- 
sions that it would be the sheerest hypercriticism to deal 
with the defects which characterize the attempts of the 
" dauntless three " who have been bold enough to attempt 
its rendering into another tongue ; indeed, we wonder how 
anyone can muster courage to face some of the lines which 
to most English, and even some Scottish readers, are as 
hidden as if clothed with hieroglyphic obscurity. I will 
therefore point out rather the success than the failure 
with this song. 



^" -~ . »-f .>..-».w-. itm m • 



WILLIE WASTLE 



M3 



O. Baisch and G. Legerlotz get lost amongst the 

obscurities of 

" She's bow-houghed, she's hein-shinned ; 
Ae limpin' leg a hand-breed shorter; 
She's twisted right, she's twisted left, 
To balance fair in ilka quarter." 

They don't attempt to translate this verse, and they 
substitute other images and ideas in much simpler lines. 
As a specimen of their work, I give the rendering by 
each, of the second verse, which in both cases is com- 
mendable, although Baisch leaves the facial portrait incom- 
plete by omitting all reference to her "whiskin* beard," 
and Legerlotz evidently does not quite realize the power 
of the phrase ** a clapper tongue wad deave a miller." 

" She has an e'e — she has but ane. 

The cat has twa the very colour; 
Five rusty teeth, forbye a stump, 

A clapper- tongue wad deave a miller; 
A whiskin' beard about her mou'. 

Her nose and chin they threaten ither — 
Sic a wife as Willie had, 

I wadna gi'e a button for her," 

Otto Baisch renders 

" Sie hat ein einzig Aug* das blickt 

Wie Katzen falsch und grimm wie Drachen ; 
Fiinf schwarze Zahn' und einen Stump ; 

Ein Mundsttick, Miiller taub zu machen. 
Die Nase und das spitze Kinn, 

Die drohn einander taglich greller. 
Fur solch ein Weib, wie Willie hat 
Da geb ich keinen roten Heller."* 

^ She has a single eye, that looks 
Like cats' false, and fierce as dragons'; 
Five black teeth and a stump, 
A mouth to make a miller deaf; 
The nose and the pointed chin 
They threaten each other daily shriller — 



144 



BURNS IN GERMAN 



and Legerlotz gives 

"Sie hot en Aug, nur eines hot s', 

Die Katz hot zwei vo gleichem Schiller; 
Fiinf schwarze Zahn, dozu en Stumpf, 

E Plappmaul, des ertriig kei Miller ; 
£ Biirstelbartle ziert den Mund, 

Und Krieg hot's Kinn der Nas geschwore. 
Solch e Weib, wie Willy hot, 

Des kauft i fiir kei Hoseknopfle." ^ 

" I wad na gi'e a button for her " 
has certainly its best rendering in Legerlotz's 

" Des kauft i fiir kei Hoseknopfle." 
K. Bartsch makes the boldest attempt to grapple with 
the peculiarities of this difficult piece, and though far from 
successful it is moderately good. 

SOLCH EIN WE IB, WIE WILLIE HAT. 

K. Bartsch. 

Willie Wastle wohnt' am Tweed, 

Ja ! Linkumdoddie heisst die Statte ; 
Willie war ein Weber gut, 

Der's sonst so gut wie einer hatte. 
AUein er hatt* ein boses Weib, 

Die Mutter Tinkler Maidgie hiess ; 
Solch ein Weib, wie Willie hat, 

Ich gabe nicht ein £i fiir dies. 

For such a wife as Willie has 
I would not give a red farthing. 

' She has an eye, but one has she, 
The cat has two of the same glitter ; 
Five black teeth, therewith a stump, 
A babble-jaw which no miller could endure; 
A bristle-beard adorns the mouth. 
And the chin has sworn war against the nose, 
Such a wife as Willie has 
I would not buy her for a trouser-button. 



WILLIE WASTLE 

Sie hat ein Aug* — sie hat nur eins, 

Die Katz' hat zwei von solchem Schiller ; 
Fiinf gelbe Zahn und einen Stumpf, 

Ihr Klappermaul betaubt den Miiller. 
Ein borstiger Bart um ihren Mund, 

Die Nase fast am Kinn sich stiess : 
Solch ein Weib, wie Willie hat, 

Ich gabe nicht ein £i fiir dies. 

Kniekehr und Schienbein hat sie krumm 

Und hinkt dazu auf einem Beine ; 
Sie wackelt rechts, sie wackelt links 

Und balanciert dabei wie eine. 
Sie hat 'nen H6cker auf der Brust, 

Ihr Riicken seinen Zwilling wies : 
Solch ein Weib, wie Willie hat, 

Ich gabe nicht ein £i fiir dies 

Am Ofen sitzt und putzt sich stets 

Mit ihrem Pfbtchen rein die Katze : 
So reinlich ist nicht Willies Weib, 

Sie wischt ihr Maul am schmutzigen Latze. 
Die grobe Faust dem Mistkorb gleich, 

Riihrt' sie im Wasser, triibte sie's : 
Solch ein Weib, wie Willie hat, 

Ich gabe nicht ein £i fiir dies. 



145 



(Srten (groto the l^a^hee, 0. 

This rollicking song, which one can scarcely listen to 
without exclaiming, " O rare Rob Bums ! " seems to offer 
greater difficulties to the translators than one would have 
expected. One and all of them increase the distance 
by which they fall short from the original, and greatly 
interfere with the rhythm by omitting the three Os in 
the chorus and the O in the second and fourth line of 
the verses, whilst A. Laun's rendering is all through very 

K 



146 BURNS IN GERMAN 

rough and irregular in its metre, and closes with four 
lines almost like verse transprosed, thus — 

"Das schdnste, was je geschafTen Natur, 
£s sind und bleiben die Madchen, 
Sie schuf die Manner als Probestiick nur, 
Als Meisterstiick schuf sie die Madchen." ^ 

In addition to the hardness and prosaic character of these 
four lines, the first two are intrinsically weak, and this 
remark applies to others in this version. 

K. Bartsch spoils his reproduction by his chorus, which 
in this song has such a prominent position. 

"Es griint im Schilfe, 
£s griint im Schilfe ! 
Ich lebte manchen lieben Tag, 
Mit junger Madchen Hilfe I " * 

scarcely conveys an echo of 

"The sweetest hours that e'er I spent, 
Were spent among the lasses, O." 

In many of the lines the rendering is fairly faithful, and 
in some instances very good indeed. His verse 

" Gebt mir ein Stiindchen Abendzeit, 
Im Arm mein Liebchen munter (O), 
Dann, weldich Weh und weltlich Leid, 
Geh driiber und geh drunter (O)," 



^The most beautiful which nature ever created 
Are, and remain the lasses; 
She created the men only as a trial-piece. 
As masterpiece she created the lasses. 

' It grows green on the rashes, 
It grows green on the rashes; 
I lived many a dear day 
With the help of young lasses. 



t"*:ii^* M 



GREEN GROW THE RASHES, O 147 

is perhaps the best of any efforts to reproduce 

" But gi'e me a canny hour at e*en, 
My arms about my dearie, O ; 
And warFly cares, and warFly men, 
May a' gae tapsalteerie, O." 

E. Ruete catches the spirit and lilt of the piece fairly 
well, but with a little care might have avoided some 
blemishes; thus 

"Wer hierzu spottisch blicken kann, 
Dem mag ein Narr vertrauen (O) ; 
Geliebt hat jeder weise Mann 
Herzinniglich die Frauen (O),"^ 

does not render Bums's lines, and altogether misses the 
reference to Solomon — 

" For you sae douse, ye sneer at this, 
Ye're nought but senseless asses, O ; 
The wisest man the warP e*er saw. 
He dearly loved the lasses, O." 

The following would have rendered the original better, 

and his version would then have been pretty faithful. 

"Ein Fromme der hier spotten kann 
Soil blode — Disteln kauen, O ; 
In aller Welt, der weis'ste Mann 
Hat sehr geliebt die Frauen, O." 

L. G. Silbergleit gives a very good rendering, but has 

one or two weak lines, thus 

" O bleibet mir vom Leibe," ' 
is very poor for 

" May a' gae tapsalteerie, O ; " 

^AMio sneeringly can look at this 
A fool may trust him ; 
Every wise man loves 
Heartily the women. 

^O remain far from me. 



148 BURNS IN GERMAN 

and 

" Der weise Konig Salomon, 
Der Uebte vide Frauen^^"^ 

is too "narrow" for 

"The wisest man the warl' e'er saw, 
He dearly loved the lasses^ O" 

I give both these versions complete, but have taken 
the liberty to restore the neglected Os which will make 
the songs more congenial, at least to those who know 
them in the original. 

grOn sind die auen, 

Edmund Ruete. 

Chor, Griin sind die Auen, O, 
Griin sind die Auen, O ! 
Am frohsten bin ich immerdar 
Bei euch, ihr holden Frauen, O I 

Wer mag in diesem Sorgenthal 
Noch heiter um sich schauen, O ! 
Traun ! Dieses Leben ware schal, 
Gab's keine lieben Frauen, O ! 

Lasst jagen nur das Kind der Welt 
Nach eitlen, fliicht'gen Schatzen, O ! 
£s kann an allem Gut und Geld 
Das Herz sich nimmer letzen, O ! 

Doch darf im trauten Dammerlicht 
Ich froh mein Liebchen herzen, O 1 
Dann lach' ich hell ins Angesicht 
Der Welt und ihren Schmerzen, O 1 

Wer hierzu spottisch blicken kann, 
Dem mag ein Narr veiirauen, O ! 
Geliebt hat jeder weise Mann 
Herzinniglich die Frauen, O I 

*The wise King Solomon, 
He loved many women. 



"• vt" , ; ^ . .. 



GREEN GROW THE RASHES, O 149 

£s lasst, was du vermagst, Natur, 
Das Weib am schonsten schauen, O ! 
Die Manner schufst du tastend nur, 
Mit Meisterhand die Frauen, O ! 

Griin sind die Auen, O, 
Griin sind die Auen, O ! 
Am frohsten bin ich immerdar 
Bei euch, ihr holden Frauen, O ! 



OR UN SIND DIE AUEN, 

L. G. SlLBERGLEIT. 

Griin sind die Auen, O, 

Griin sind die Auen, O ! 

Die schonste Zeit, die je ich halt', 

Verlebt* ich mit den Frauen, O ! 

Nur Sorge giebt es iiberall ; 
Die Zukunft ist voll Grauen, O ! 
Das Leben ware eine Qual 
Wol ohne liebe Frauen, O ! 

Ihr klugen Leut' sucht Gold gescheidt, 
Das stets vor euch wegfliesset, O ! 
Und wenn am End' ihr's fasst behend, 
Eu*r Herz es nicht geniesset, O ! 

Nur eine kos'ge Abendstund' 
Bei dem geliebten Weibe, O ! 
Und schlaue Sorge, schlaue Leut', 
O bleibet mir vom Lcibe, O 1 

Ihr, die so stolz ihr mich verhdhnt, 
Seid doch nur dumme Pfauen, O ! 
Der weise Konig Salomon 
Der liebte viele Frauen, O ! 

Mein Bestes schwur einst Frau Natur, 
Im Weibe m5gt ihr's schauen, O ! 
Mit Lehrlingshand schuf ich den Mann, 
Mit Meisterhand die Frauen, O ! 



150 BURNS IN GERMAN 

Griin sind die Auen, O, 

Griin sind die Auen, O ! 

Die schonste Zeit, die je ich hatt', 

Verlebt* ich mit den Frauen, O 1 

Any selection of representative pieces from the songs 
of Bums would be incomplete without one or two examples 
displaying his power of humour and fun, apart from those 
given amongst the love songs. The first we take is 

^hete toa0 a |pab toad hcnox in l^ple. 

The first verse and the chorus seem too difficult for the 
translators, though by a little inquiry as to the meaning 
of the words **o' what'n a style," this difficulty would 
have been lightened. " Obscure writing means obscure 
thinking," says R. Waldo Emerson, and certainly, obscure 
understanding of an author means obscure translating. 
As is known by most readers of Burns, the old and 
new styles of date were in use in Scotland up to within 
a few years of the birth of Bums. I remember, when a 
boy, seeing some documents with the days inserted in 
both styles, as is done in Russia to this day; and, not- 
withstanding the contents of the second verse where the 
poet seems to have repented of the indifference expressed 
in the first, there can be little doubt that this is his 
meaning. This is a natural construction, and with a 
writer of such precision it can have no other, as Bums 
does not deal in obscure and implied meanings. But 
the manner in which it has been dealt with by translators 
is in some cases very amusing. 

G. Legerlotz avoids the difficulty by giving it a very 

universal rendering, 

" Doch welches Tags der Weltgeschicht," * 

^ But on what day of the world's history. 




^ST'S.lw m>^ ' 



■^^ 



THERE WAS A LAD WAS BORN IN KYLE 



'5' 



which is certainly wide enough to include year, style, and 
everything. This writer is not so successful with his trans- 
lation of this song as with many others, whilst his chorus 
savours more of the rough and vulgar than of the naivete 
and roguishness which characterize the original, 

"Robin was a rovin* boy, 

Ran tin' rovin', rantin* rovin* ; 
Robin was a rovin' boy, 
Rantin' rovin' Robin." 

For this we cannot accept Legerlotz's 

"Robin war e loser Ruch, 
Los und locker, los und locker; 
Robin war e loser Ruch, 
E lockrer Teufelshocker." 

As will be seen in Laun's version, a much more faith- 
ful and at the same time more pleasing rendering is not 
surrounded with any great difficulties. Indeed, Legerlotz 
does not seem to have got a right grip of these humorous 
verses. 

£. Ruete. In rendering the first verse this writer falls 
into the same error as do many translatqrs in his own 
and other tongues. 

" But what*n a day o* wbat'n a style," 
he gives 

"An welchem Tag? auf welche Art?"^ 

as if there were a hundred ways by which a small specimen 
of humanity can be brought into the world. His version 
is, upon the whole, very good, and contains one or two 
really good verses, but is spoiled by a few incorrect 

^ On what day, in what way or manner. 



A 



^52 



BURNS IN GERMAN 



renderings, besides being rather cold. The chorus is very 
well done, though not quite so strong as the original — 

"Robin war ein freier Bursch, 
Frei and frohlich, frei und frohlich, 
Robin war ein feier Bursch, 
Froher, freier Robin." 

K. Bartsch's version has also some good verses, 

"Manch Ungliick bringt sein Lebenslauf, 
Doch bleibt sein Mut stets obenauf, 
£r macht uns Ehre noch voUauf, 
Wir werden stolz auf Robin." ^ 

being as good a rendering as could be wished for, of 

" He*ll ha'e misfortunes g^eat and sma\ 
But aye a heart aboon them a' ; 
He'll be a credit to us a*, 
We'U a' be proud o' Robin." 

But the piece is roost unequal, and his chorus of 

" Robin flunkert gem herum : 
Wie ich froh bin, wie ich froh bin ! 
Robin flunkert gem herum, 
Lust*ger Bursch, der Robin," 

is recognizable, but nothing more. 

Otto Baisch's version, though also containing some well- 
rendered lines, is spoiled completely by the first verse and 
the chorus, 

" Es war ein Knabe jung und zart ; — 
Von welchem Stand? Von welcher Art? — 
Die Miihe bliebt mit Fug erspart, 
So einzugehn auf Robert. 



^ His career will bring many misfortunes, 
But yet his courage will always be above them. 
He'll be an honour to us, 
We will be proud o* Robin. 



THERE WAS A LAD WAS BORN IN KYLE 153 

Robert war ein Ruhedieb ; 
Rasch erobert, rasch erobert 1 
Robert war ein Ruhedieb ; 
Rasch erobert Robert"^ 

This is merely a burlesque when offered for 

• 

"There was a lad was bom in Kyle, 
But what'n a day o* what'n a style, 
I doubt it's hardly worth the while 
To be sae nice wi* Robin. 

Robin was a rovin* boy, 
Rantin' rovin*, ran tin' rovin'; 

Robin' was a rovin' boy, 
Rantin' rovin* Robin." 

Mr. A. Laun gives a very readable translation, though 
it also is marred by several lines, such as 

"Und weiss ich auch das Datum nicht,"' 
which he gives for the oft-quoted 

" But what'n a day o' what'n a style " ; 
and in the last verse, 

" Und das wird nicht Dein Schlimmstes sein," • 
are the words in which he expresses 

"But twenty fau'ts ye may ha'e waur." 
Of course Mr. Laun has clearly misunderstood the original. 



'There was a boy young and tender, 
Of what position in life ? of what manners ? 
The trouble is, with right spared, 
To go so into details about Robert. 
Robert was a thief of peace. 
Quickly conquered, quickly conquered, 
Robert was a thief of peace. 
Quickly conquered, Robert 
'And I don't even know the date. 
'And that will not be your worst. 



154 



BURNS IN GERMAN 



and so conveys a totally different meaning. I give this 
version in full so that the reader can judge its merits. 

ROBIN. 
Adolf Laun. 

In Kyle, da kam ein Bursch an's Licht, 
Und weiss ich auch das Datum nicht, 
So leist* ich game drauf Verzicht, 
Genau zu sein bei Robin. 

Robin war ein flotter Bursch, 
Frisch und frei war Robin, 
Robin war ein flotter Bursch, 
Frisch und frei war Robin. 

Als kaum ein Mond verflossen war 
Von unsres Konigs letztem Jahr, 
Da blies der Wind im Januar 
Schon auf den kleinen Robin. 

Zur Hand guckt' ihm die Muhm' hinein 
Und sprach : Ihr lieben Leut', ich mein', 
Der Robin wird kein Dummkopf sein, 
Ich denk, er heisse Robin. 

Zwar Boses wird ihm viel geschehn, 
Doch er wird immer driiber stehn, 
Er bringt Euch Ehr', Ihr werdet's sehn. 
Drum seid nur stolz auf Robin. 

Gewiss, wie zweimal zwei sind vier. 

In jeder Linie zeigt sich*s mir : [ 

Die Madchen einst behagen Dir, I 

Dess freu ich mich, mein Robin. ' 

Und meiner Treu, sprach sie, ich mein* 
Du fangst manch holdes Kind Dir ein, 
Und das wird nicht Dein Schlimmstes sein. 
Gesegniet seist Du, Robin. 

Robin war ein flotter Bursch, | 

Frisch und frei war Robin, 
Robin war ein flotter Bursch, 
Frisch und frei war Robin. 






r^i? EXCISEMAN/ 155 

^he (Excietman 

is another indication that the Germans either do not 
appreciate or cannot express these humorous songs. 
There are four writers who have attempted this song, 
and that of only one of them, Mr. G. Legerlotz, is worth 
reproducing; the others are more like burlesques of the 
original. 

TEUXEL UND ZOLLMANN. 
GusTAv Legerlotz. 

Der Teuxel fidelte durch die Stadt 

Und tanzte furt mit dem Zollmann. 
Des Weibsvolk schrie : " Herr Urian, 

Viel Cluck zu dem feiste Knoll, Mann ! " 

Der Teuxel isch furt, der Teuxel isch furt, 
Der Teuxel isch furt mit dem Zollmann ! 

£r isch furtgetanzt, er isch furtgetanzt, 
£r isch furtgetanzt mit dem Zollmann ! 

Nu brenne wir Malz, nu braue wir Bier, 
Und singe und springe wie toll, Mann ! 

Dem schwarze Bengel gar schmucke Dank, 
Der furtgetanzt mit dem Zollmann ! 

Do isch Zweitritt, hopp ! do isch Dreitritt, bopp ! 

Do isch meng Geschleif und Geroll, Mann ; 
Doch der feinste Tanz, den wir je gesehn. 

War des Teuxels Tanz mit dem Zollmann. 

Der Teuxel isch furt, der Teuxel isch furt, 
Der Teuxel isch furt mit dem Zollmann 1 

£r isch furtgetanzt, er isch furtgetanzt, 
£r isch furtgetanzt mit dem Zollmann ! 



SWISS GERMAN. 

I WILL now examine some of the foregoing songs 
translated into Swiss German (or Zurich dialect), which 
has been done, so far as I know, only by Mr. Corrodi.^ 
It is claimed that this language or dialect bears a stronger 
resemblance to broad Scotch than almost any other foreign 
tongue. A Swiss friend, in dealing with this claim, writes 
me: "It was on my first tour in Scotland — from Loch 
Lomond, through Hell's Glen, Inveraray and Loch Awe 
to Oban — that I was for the first time struck with the 
sometimes very close resemblance between my own and 
the Scottish dialect, and it was interesting to find, on 
getting meals at the farmhouses, I had so much greater 
facilities in understanding the Scotch than had my 
friend, a professor of philosophy, who was with me, but 
was from the French part of Switzerland." My friend 
goes on to give instances of many words and sentences 
very similar in both languages, with which I need not 
trouble the reader; and Mr. Corrodi himself, in his 
interesting preface, repeats the claim, and maintains that 
even the English cannot read many things in Bums with 
the same pleasure as the Swiss; and, further, that very 
much can only be translated into Swiss German, or, as 

^ LietUr von /Robert Burns^ In das Schweizerdeutsche Ubertragen 
von August Corrodi. Winterthur, BleuIer-IIausheer & Co. 1870. 

156 



INTRODUCTORY 



157 



he says, to be more precise, into Zurich German, whilst 
such pieces would lose their charm if attempted in the 
pure German tongue.^ He also gives a list of words as 
instances. Without following his very interesting arguments, 
any one reading the following pieces will meet with lines 
which are almost identical in both tongues, but any 
general identity is more than questionable. I remember 
a ''brither Scot'' telling me that on visiting one of the 
great battlefields of the Franco-German War in Alsace, 
he wished to ask his driver where the fighting took place, 
but, as his Jehu did not understand English, he tried 
him with his best French, without a satisfactory result. 
Learning that the driver was a German, and having heard 
of the close resemblance between broad Scotch and the 
Teutonic dialects, he said, " Whar was the fecht ? " " Ah, 
das Gefechtl" said the amused driver, "War dort"; but 
my friend soon found this medium of conversation ex- 
tremely limited, an experience made by many others under 
similar circumstances. Even my Swiss friend quoted 
above, who knows Bums, writing me without the trans- 
lation before him, says, " * Speir nae mair * is pronounced 
the same and written almost the same in our Eastern 
Cantons, *Spiir nod mehr.'" Very likely, but the trans- 
lator writes, "Frag nid nah," which certainly does not 
sound like "speir nae mair"; so that we may conclude, 
whilst there is a resemblance in many words, this does 
not seem to exist to any much greater extent than in the 

^**Ich behaupte Ihnen hier frohlich in's Gesicht: sogar ihr Eng* 
lander konnt an vielen Sachen von ihm nicht diese rechte Freudc 
haben wie wir Schweizer. Ferner, nicht das Meiste, aber Vieles bei 
ihm lasst sich nur in's Schweizerdeutsche, pniciser, nur in's ZUrcher- 
deutsche unbeschadigt Ubertragen, wird, in hochdeutscher Kilche 
zubereitet, manchmal geradezu ungeniessbar." 



158 BURNS IN SWISS GERMAN 

Other dialects of German or in those of the Scandinavian 
tongues. 

None of the poems have been attempted in this inter- 
esting collection, the translator confining himself to thirty- 
four of the songs. Following the order I have already 
adopted, I take first 

Jl Jftan'0 t, Jftan for a' that. 

This translation is almost perfect; the first line is rather 
stilted, and two lines seem weak. 

"Die fiine tiiecher trinked wii " * 

is weak for 

*' Gi'e fools their silks, and knaves their wine " ; 
and 

"Trotz uhr und gschmeid und alldem"* 

may be expressive enough to the Swiss with his simple 
tastes and habits, but to British minds it lacks the 
force of 

" His riband, star, and a' that," 

These are but two very small defects in what is perhaps 
the best translation into any language of this magnificent 
ode; and it is but fair to point out some lines where the 
language seems even more expressive than in the original, 
which is a bold thing to say of any of Bums's master- 
pieces ; but such as 

"E fiigi chnechtseel lomer gah"' 

is more contemptuous than 

"The coward slave, we pass him by," 

'The finer people drink wine. 

'In spite of watch and trinket, and all that. 

'The cowardly, slavish soul we pass by. 






A MAN'S A MAN FOR A' THAT 

and 



159 



'* Drum batt, alltag dass 's so cho mag ^^ 

is more powerful than 

"Then let us pray that come it may." 

It seems appropriate that what I have called this 
Marseillaise of humanity, the production of Scotland, 
should be so well clothed in the drapery of the lan- 
guage of that country which so much resembles her in 
efforts brave and bold for Liberty — social, political, and 
religious. 

WAS, sou. EN ARMEN EHREMA. 

Was, soil en armen ehrema 

Sin chopf la hange wege dem? 
£ fiigi chnechtseel lomer gah, 

Arm d5rfma sy, trotz alldem ! 
Trotz alldem und alldem, 

Werchedmer unbriiehmt, trotz dem ; 
De rang ist nu*s giprag vum geld, 

De ma ist's gold trotz alldem ! 

Mir essed chost, und trinked most 

Und gond im zwilch und alldem. 
Die fiine tiiecher trinked wii, 

En ma ist ma trotz alldem. 
Trotz alldem und alldem, 

Trotz ibrem gstaat und alldem. 
En ehrema, und na so arm. 

Da staht vora, trotz alldem. 

Da purst, ma seitem *' herr ", lueg a, 

Wott vornehm thue mit alldem ; 
Mag hunderte z'bifelle ha, 

Ist doch en tropf trotz alldem. 

^Then daily pray that come it may. 



l6o BURNS IN SfV/SS GERMAN 

Trotz alldem und alldem, 

Trotz uhr und gscbmeid und alldem, 
£n ma vo unabhangigem sinn, 

Lacheten us trotz alldem. 

£n kiinig cha zum ritter schla, 

Zum grafe machen und zu dem ; 
£r macb emal en ehrema, 

Da febltem ebe's ziiiig zu dem ! 
Trotz alldem und alldem, 

Trotz rang und stand und alldem, 
Chembafti stolzi biderkeit 

Stabt iiber rang und alldem. 

Drum batt alltag, dass 's so cho mag, 

Und *s wird so cbo trotz alldem, 
Dass wiit und breit nu d'biderkeit, 

DVemunft nu herrscht trotz alldem. 
Trotz alldem und alldem, 

£s wird so cho trotz alldem, 
Dass ma dem ma, wohi d'magst gah, 

Wird briieder sy trotz alldem I 



Jlttlb Ipang §^\\t 

is a little more faithful than in the German, though this 
translation fails to render *'auld acquaintance" any better 
than by '* alte Friindschaft," as the best German translators 
do, or " Auld Lang Syne," than by " Vor alter Ziit." The 
words simply cannot be translated, but an amusing error 
is made in translating 

" We twa ha'e paidl't i» the burn," 
which is made 

** Weischt, wiemer kothlet hand im bach." * 
The translator has evidently mistaken the word " paidl't " 

' Do you remember how we dabbled (literally mudded) in the bum. 



AULD LANG SYNE 



for " puddled," and suggests " mud-pie making " rather than 
the refreshing equivalent for "paidling." 



VOR ALTER ZIIT. 

Soil alti friindschcft gstorbe sy 
Und alls verschwunde wilt? 
Soli alli friindscheft gstorbe sy 
Und d'tag us alter ziil? 

Der alte ziit, min frUnd, 
Der alte z::t ! 

En guete brave treue schluck 
Der alte ziit t 

Weischt, wiemer lamme klettered sind, 

In ber^en umme wiit ? 
Wol mangmal bats miied fuess gga, friind, 

Sid alter liit. 

Weischt, wiemer Ictiihlet band im bach 
Bis spat zur suppeziit, 

Dann battis 's grusam wcltmecr tiennc 
Sid langer ziiL 

Da bast mi hand, du alte friind, 

Gib dini, her demit ! 
Und iez en guele Teste schluck 

Der alte ziit. 

1 glaub du magst din stifel na, 

Mir ister au nid I'wiit ; 
So chumm, mer piitsched frfihli a : 

Der alte ziit t 

Mr. Corrodi translates none of the songs of the pathos, 
as they may be called, of youthful love. " Maty Morison," 
"My Nannie O," "My Nannie's awa'," "Sweet Afton," 
and others are all absent The only one of this class is the 



1 62 BURNS IN SfV/SS GERMAN 

He also misses entirely — even worse than the German 
— the poetic power of the repetition of the adjective in 
"red, red rose," and merely says, "roseli," which is poor. 

Af/N SCHATZ 1ST WIENBS ROSEU. 

Min schatz ist wienes rdseli, 

Wo frisch in summer bliieht, 
Min schatz ist wiene guets schons lied, 

Won ein so recht durgluebt 

So herzig d'bist, herzliebste schatz, 

So herzli liebi di : 
Und lieb ha willi di, min schatz. 

Bis trochen ist de RhL 

De Rhi mag trochne, de Rigi mag 

I heisser sunn vergah : 
Ich ha min schatz lieb bis emal 

Mi letzti stund wird schla. 

Und bhiietdi Gott, min liebste schatz, 

£s wiili bhiietdi Gott ! 
I chumme wieder wanni scho 

Zehetusig stund wiit sott 



^nnran (Srag 

he calls Stoffi Schwarz, Stoffi being the endearing diminu- 
tive of Stephen, sometimes a nick-name only; but why 
Duncan is transformed to Stephen or Gray to Black is not 
clear, nor why Meg is rendered Grite like the German. 
The translation as a translation has no pretence to fidelity, 
though the first part of the story is told very well Still 
it is to be regretted that a language which the translator 






DUNCAN GRA Y 1 63 

urges to be so similar to broad Scotch could not yield 
better imagery than the following. 

** Meg was deaf as Ailsa Craig/' 

is rendered by 

"D'Griten ist chalt wie de ma im mo";* 

" Spak' o* lowpin' o'er a linn," 
by 

** Draut, er schiiiiss si dur de grind";* 
and 

" Now they're crouse and canty baith," 
by 

"Gand do gli drufs bochsig a,"' 

and so on. There are, on the other hand, some well 
rendered poetical lines, faithful to the original, as the 
reader may see. 

STOFFI SCHWARZ, 

De Stoffi Schwarz hett d'Grite gem, 

Losmer iez da buiiret, 
Er seitere's a der Wienecht fern, 

Losmer iez da hiiiiret 
D'Grite luegten usod a, 
Seit : " I chadi nid verstah ; 
Chonntist ehner wieder gah ; " 

Losmer iez da hiiiiret 

De Stoffi leit si uf s bitte do, 

Losmer iez da hiiiiret, 
D'Griten ist chalt wie de ma im mo, 

Losmer iez da hiiuret 
St5f!i zannet wienes cbind, 
Griinet si na d'auge blind, 
Draut, er schiiiiss si dur de grind, 

Losmer iez da hiiiiret. 

^Grite is cold as the man in the moon. 
' Threatens to shoot himself thro' the head. 
' Soon thereafter they announce a wedding. 



1 64 BURNS IN SWISS GERMAN 

Ziit und gliick gdnd ab und zue, 

Losmer iez da hiiiiret, 
Verscbmahti liebi lat kei rueh, 

Losmer iez da huiiret 
Endtli seiter : bin e chueb, 
Ase wegeme hudi z'thue, 
Lauf da nar dem tiifel zue 1 
Losmer iez da hiiiiret 

Frag de dokter wie's na chunnt, 

Losmer iez da hiiiiret, 
Do wird sie chrank, er wird gsund. 

Losmer iez da hiiiiret 
'S mottet inere, chunnt nid drus, 
'S ziindtere zun augen us, 
Siifzger lat sie, 's ist en grus, 
Losmer iez da hiiiiret 

'S Stoffis herz ist nid vu stei, 
Losmer iez da hiiiiret, 

Der Grite gahts dur marg und bei, 
Losmer iez da hiiiiret. 

Wott nid, dass sie sterbi dra, 

Denkt, er well verbarmket ha ; 

Gand do gli druf s hochsig a, 
Gall, das ist en huiiret ! 



aShidtle o'n the Ipabe tfi 

IS very faithfully and well rendered, though Mr. Corrodi 
evidently will have none of " Meg," and so again tran- 
scribes it d'Grite. 

PFllFEN UF DIE GANZ GSCHICHT. 

D'Grite hani welle ha, 
Ha ja gmeint in himmel z'cha ; 
Nachem hochsig — frag nid nah — 
Pfiifen uf die ganz gschicht 



WHISTLE O'ER THE LAVE ffT 165 

1st SO sanft und artig gsy, 

Wienes butichindeli ; 

'S hett na gschiider ^a as mi — 

Pfiifen uf die gani gschicht 
Wieni mit der Grite lab, 
Ob im friden, ob im chlab, 
Mira magma's wiisse sab ; 

Pfiifen uf die ganz gscbicbL 
Sie im todtehampli ha 
Und de wiiime z'brOsele la — 
Weustbti's — so erfiehr sie's na — 

Pfiifen uf die gaoz gschicht 

ComitiQ ihrtr" the 3Pae. 
He misukcs the rye, and transforms it into a streamlet 
(as the Geiman translators have done), and renders 

" Coming thro' the rye, poor body," 
by 

" Meiteli ist dur's b^bli ggange."' 

Mr. Corrodi scarcely attempts to make his translation 
literal; even in the verse which one would have thought 
easy enough he avoids doing so. Possibly the stream 
transformation made the correct rendering too ridiculous, 
for whilst " a body kissing a body coming through the rye," 
is intelligible, probably common, the pleasant occupation 
could scarcely be so comfortably engaged in, "coming 
through the stream." So he renders 
" Gin a body meet a body 
Coming through the rye," 



by 



" Nu, triffl Spper Spper a 
Sppen am bach bim mabe."* 

'A maiden is gone through the bnm. 
* Now, if somebody meet somebody 
AUng tkt tirtam 6y mawmg. 



1 66 BURNS IN SfV/SS GERMAN 

The song, however, apart from the departure from the 
original, is exceedingly pretty and harmonious in its Swiss 
dress. 

MEITELI 1ST DUE'S BACHLI GGANGE, 

Meiteli ist dor's bacbli ggange, 

Bittedi deddoch a — 
Lat de rock is wasser hange, 
Wird em numme troche. 
Meiteli, meiteli, wie bist nass, 

Bittedi deddoch a — 
'S underrockli tropfig^ass, 
Wird der niimme troche ! 

Nu, trifft opper opper a 

Oppen am bach bim mahe, 
Opper wott es chiissli ha, 

Bruucht dann dpper z'chrahe ? 

Opper wott dor's thali gah, 

Opper opper chiisse — 
Gaht das 5pper dppis a, 
Bruucht das dpper z'wusse ? 
Meiteli, meiteli, wie bist nass, 

Bittedi deddoch a ! 
'S underrockli tropfignass — 
Wird der niimme troche ! 



J0hn Jlnbereon, mg J0 

shows very few defects in a really excellent translation. 
" Mi freud " is very nearly the equivalent of •* my jo," 
and therefore shows us this cozy loving scene better than 
is done in most of the translations, but 

" Und gruehned z'letzt in eim grab," ^ 
^ And we'll rest at the last in one grave. 



JOHN ANDERSON^ MY JO 167 

though the same as adopted by Mr. Freih'grath» is too 
weak and unpathetic for the compact line, 

"And sleep thegither at the foot" 



HANS ANDERES, MIN SCHATZ. 

Hans Anderes, min schatz, Hans, 

Weischt, i der ersti na, 
Da hast e schwarzes rollebaar, 

£ frdblis gsichtli gha. 
Jez ist di stime chahl, Hans, 

Und's haar wie schnee druf gstreut; 
Doch sege Gottes uf dis haupt, 

Hans Anderes, mi freud. 

Hans Anderes, min schatz, Hans, 

Sind mitenand berguf, 
Und mange lustige tag, Hans, 

Hamer verlebt duruf. 
Jez hotteredmer durab, Hans, 

Doch gommer hand in hand, 
Und gruehned z'letzt in eim grab, 

Hans Anderes, binenand. 



^xr JRatB in ^eaben. 

This, in its Swiss mould, is a simple and beautiful 
song, and the first two verses are rendered with tolerable 
fidelity; but, like so many of the others, Corrodi misses 
the touching trait of the third verse. 

" Dur miesfiiecht felse ruuscht de bach, 
Und d'bueche tauched d'bletter dri ; 
D'waldrose w5lbt e heimeligs dach 
Und schliiiisst is wienes hiittli L 
Waldbluemen aller arte bliiehnd 
Drininne, saged: 'gniehn wann dVittI' 



i68 BURNS IN SIVISS GERMAN 

Bis d^sunne meint : * iez, chinde, miiend 
£r wager hei, 's ist hocbi ziitl'"^ 

It is really surprising that Mr. Corrbdi, with such a lan- 
guage as the Swiss German, should pen the above lines, 
however simple and beautiful they may be, when he had 
before him the original song so full of the charm of 
absolute and all-absorbing love, and which he even prints 
alongside of his translation. 

" Ayr, gurgling, kis^d his pebbled shore. 

Overhung with wildwoods* thick'ning green; 
The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar, 

Twined anurous round the raptured scene ; 
The flowers sprang wanton to be prest, 

The birds sang loife on ev'ry spray — 
Till soon, too soon, the glowing west 

Proclaimed the speed of winged day." 

This is a grander strain, and of deeper music, though 
perhaps the homely Swiss enjoys Mr. Corrodi's simpler 
and less profound melody just as well. 



A MIS MARY IM HIMMEL. 

Du bleiche spate morgestem, 
Ziehst wieder still dur's morgcroth 

Und winkst dem tag, ach, grad wie fern, 
Wo mir mis Mary nimmt de tod. — 



^The rivulet rushes thro* moss-damp rocks, 
The beech trees dip their leaves therein ; 
The woodbine arches a homely roof 
And locks us in as in a cot ; 
Forest flowers of all sorts blossom therein 
And say : Rest here if so you will 
Until the sun calls; now, children, I regret 
You must go home — it is high time. 






TO MARY IN HEAVEN 169 

Du liebi seel im stemefeld, 

Wo wandlist iez i duft und glanz ? 
Gsehst du mi da uf chalt^ welt 

Im herzeleid versunke ganz ? 

Und denki nid mirlebtig dra ? 

Am chlare bach, im chiiehle thai 
Da hamer stillen abschied gnah, 

Und handis kiisst zum letztemal. 
Das bliibtmer bis i ebikeit — 

I gsehnedi na vormer stab, 
Du lieblis bild .... wer hettis gseit, 

£s gait f iir's leben abschied da "i 

Dur miesfiiecht felse niuscht de bach, 

Und d'bueche tauched d'bletter dri : 
D'waldrose wolbt e beimeligs dach 

Und schliiiisst is wienes hiittli L 
Waldbluemen aller arte bliiehnd 

Drininne, saged : " gruehn wann d'witt I " 
Bis d'sunne meint : " iez, chinde, miiend 

Er wager hei, 's ist hochi ziit ! " 

I weiss na ieders bliiemli, ach, 

Es istmer, 's sei erst gester gsy .... 
Wie allwiil tiiiifer wiiehlt de bach, 

Grabt si's dem herz au tiiiifer i. 
Du liebi seel im stemefeld. 

Wo wandlist iez i duft und glanz ? 
Gsehst du mi da uf chalter welt 

I herzeleid verlore ganz ? 



DANISH. NORWEGIAN. 

So far as I know, there is no edition of translations of 
Bums published in a separate volume, but several appear 
in two volumes of translations from British and American 
poets, viz., Poems and Songs from the English^ by Caralis, 
and Hundred Poems from the English^ by Caralis.^ 

In Poems and Songs the only poem taken from Bums 
is 

This is the best of all Mr. Caralis's renderings. The 
piece is faithfully reproduced, only very few weaknesses 
appearing. 

"Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flow'r,'* 

seems to puzzle him, as it did the other translators, so 
like some of them he renders it 

"Du lille Blomst saa rod og rund."' 
Then 

"Till billows rage and gales blow hard, 
And whelm him o'er," 



^ Digte og Sange^ ved Caralis. Hundrede DigU^ ved Caralis. 
Kjoebenhavn: Chr. Steen & Sons, Forlag, 1867. 

'Thou little flower, so red and round. 

170 



-J.. .."3»_. .;,wf --_ 



*l. '2i' — .1 ~ . ■^^.Ci 111 



TO A DAISY 



111 



is strangely rendered 

"Og under gaaer bans raske Seiler 
Med Mand og Muus."* 

I give the piece at length — 



TIL EN TUSINDFR YD. 

Du lille Blomst saa r^^d og rund I 
Vi m0dtes en usalig Stund ; 
Der ligger knust nu midt i St^vet 

Din fine Stub — 
Til Skaansel Evnen er mig r^vet; 

Du faure Knop ! 

Du lille Stakkel troede vist, 
Det Laerken var, din Nabo hist, 
Han, som i Duggen tidt Dig b^ied, 

Med spaettet Bryst, 
Naar han mod Dagen opslog 0iet 

Og sprang af Lyst 

Den bitterkolde Nordenvind 

Alt vied Dig ved F^dslen ind ; 

Dog stod Du glad, trods Storm og Kulde, 

Og titted op, 
Knap haevede sig over Mulde 

Din Blomstertop. 

Bag Skjaerm af Muur og Buske groer 
I Haven stolt en Blomsterflor, 
Du voxer ubemaerkt og ene, 

I Ny og Nae, 
Blandt Stubbe, hvor bag nj^gne Stene 

Du fandt lidt Lae. 

DeVy i din simple Dragt sv^bt ind, 
Med sneehvidt Bryst i Solens Skin, 



^And perishes his trim sailer, 
With man and mouse. 



172 



BURNS IN DANISH AND NORWEGIAN 

Beskedent Du dit Hoved neied 

I Ydmyghed — 
Da Ploven, ak ! Dig rev fra Leiet 

Paa Jorden ned I 

Saadan en M^ i U sky Ids Vaar 
En yndig Blomst i Skyggen staaer, 
I skyldfri Lyst hun troer sig sikker, 

Indtil forraadt, 
Besudlet, knust som Du, hun ligger 

I St^vet traadt. 

Saadan en Skjald, af Skjaebnens Harm 
Henslaengt i Li vets Bf5lgelarm, 
Uvant med Kl^gt, af Cursen feiler 

I Vindens Suus, 
Og under gaaer bans raske Seiler 

Med Mand og Muus. 

Saa kaemper tidt med Modgang her 
Den, der en bedre Lod var vaerd, 
Indtil, fra Sted til Sted fordreven 

Af List og Nag, 
Tilsidst kun Himlen tro er bleven 

Hans knuste Vrag. 

Selv Du, som ynker Blomsten her, 
See Dig i Speil ! din Tid er naer ; 
Ulykkens Plov vil fage knsekke 

Din Blomst saa fiin — 
Da ligger under Muldens Daekke 

Du knust som hiin. 



£ hat a Wait 0' nts ain ( J^aebobg). 

In this song Mr. Caralis gives the same rendering 
as some other translators, of the two lines — 

"I hae a penny to spend, 
There — thanks to naebody," 



/ HAE A WIFE O' MY AIN 173 

and makes them 

" Et Par Skilling, om Du vil, 
Kan Du faae, men tak Ingen/'^ 

although in the very next line Burns sa3rs, 

"I hae naething to lend." 

With this exception the song is very well rendered. 

INGEN. 

Min er Konen, jeg har, 

Og jeg deler med Ingen ; 
Ingen har mig til Nar, 

Selv fomaermer jeg Ingen ; 
Et Par Skilling, om Du vil, 

Kan Du faae, men tak Ingen ; 
Ingen laaner jeg til, 

Selv jeg laaner af Ingen. 

Ingen lyder mit Bud, 

Selv jeg lystre vil Ingen : 
Mens mit Svaerd holder ud. 

Taer mod Knubs jeg af Ingen. 
Fri og munter er jeg 

Og bekymres for Ingen — 
Bryder Ingen sig om mig, 

Bryder jeg mig om Ingen ! 



(Df a' the Jlirte (Jttu Jean). 

Here Mr. Caralis leaves Bums entirely; indeed, one 
scarcely recognizes the song at first. The name of the 
heroine who inspired it, and which so melodiously 
terminates the refrain in the original, " My Jean,*' is 

^ A couple of shillings if thou will'st 
Canst thou have, but thank nobody. 



174 



BURNS IN DANISH AND NORWEGIAN 



not once mentioned. It is a mere imitation, not a 

translation. Indeed it is only on internal evidence and 

from a few quotations, and the fact that it is given as 

by Robert Bums, that one sees it is meant for the 

poet's celebrated song. Mr. Caralis seems to have been 

conscious of that, and so he changes the title also, 

and calls it "Laengsel" (Longing). I quote the first 

verse — 

" I hvor jeg end, slaaer 0iet hen, 
Det s^ger heist mod Vest : 
Der er det jo den Glut mon boe, 

Jeg lider allerbedst 
Bag Hybenhaek den vilde Baek 
Slaaer der saaroangen Bugt, 
Men Dag og Nat Ikkun min Skat 
Omsnoer min Laengsels Flugt."^ 

This has not the continuity of thought or the appropriate- 
ness of the imagery in the original. It is a pretty ditty; 
it is not the witching song of Burns, as a glance at this 
verse in the original shows — 

"Of a' the airts the wind can blaw, 

I dearly like the west, 
Fur there the bonnie lassie lives, 

The lassie I lo'e best; 
There wild-woods grow, and rivers row, 

And mony a hill between ; 
But day and night my fancy's flight 

Is ever wi* my Jean." 

* In whatever direction I cast my eyes, 
They like to seek the west ; 
It is there the little one dwells 
Whom I love best of all. 
Behind the hawthorn hedge, the wild brook 
Makes many a winding turn, 
But day and night my treasure alone 
Entwines (enslaves) my longing's flight. 






OF A' THE AIRTS 



175 



The first is a fair specimen of the remaining verses, so 
I quote them without further analysis, and, as will be 
seen, they cannot be called a translation. 

L^NGSEL, 

I hvor jeg end slaaer 0iet hen, 

Det s0ger heist mod Vest : 
Der er det jo den Glut mon boe, 

Jeg lider allerbedst 
Bag Hybenhaek den vilde Baek 

Slaaer der saamangen Bugt, 
Men Dag og Nat Ikkun min Skat 

Omsnoer min X^aengsels Flugt 

I Vindens Suk, I Blomstens Dug 

Hun for min Tanke staaer, 
I Fuglens Sang bag Buskens Hang 

Mig hendes Stemme naaer. 
Hver Dal saa g^0n, hvor taus il^n 

Skovbaekken lister sig, 
Hver Sky i Qveld, hvert Kildevaeld 

En Hilsen bringer mig. 

Blandt H^i og Dal, I Skovens Sal, 

Bruus, milde Zeyhyr, frem ! 
Blandt Foraarsl^v, med Blomsterst^v 

Bring Bien til sit Hjem ! 
Og bring mig s0d og hvid og rj^d 

Herhid igjen min Brud ! 
Mod hendes Smiil er mat hver Piil, 

Som Skjaebnen sender ud. 

Hvad Suk og Eed vi vexled, veed 

Kun Himlens Stjemehaer ; 
Vi skiltes ad — ak ! mon vi glad 

Skal atter m^des meer ? 
Den hf5ie Magt, som saae vor Pagt, 

Som Hjertets L0ndom veed, 
Kan vidne kun, at ene hun 

Har al min Kjaerlighed. 



176 BURNS IN DANISH AND NORWEGIAN 

In " Hundred Poems " Mr. Caralis gives what may be 
considered the companion poem to the "Daisy/' the 
address 

^0 a Jftottee. 

This poem is also fairly well rendered, though certain 
weaknesses spoil the effect. The first line, for instance, 

"Wee, sleekit, cow'rin', tim'rous beastie," 
entirely loses its individuality when rendered 

" Du lille Krae, saa vims og snu ; " * 

and the famous seventh verse, 

"But, mousie, thou art no thy lane, 
In proving foresight may be vain ; 
The best-laid schemes o' mice an* men 

Gang aft a-gley, 
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain 
For promised joy," 
is rendered 

" Men saadan det i Verden gaaer, 
Saa saare lidt vor Klogt formaaer. 
Ak ! Muus og Maend de laegge Planer, 

En stakket Lyst ! 
Hvor Glaedens Frug^er alt vi aner, 

Er Sorg vor Host."* 

This entirely fails to give the moral which Bums so 
tersely puts, and is feeble at the best. The other verses, 

^Thou little mouse, so nimble and sharp. 

' But so in the world it goes ; 
So very little does our sagacity help us. 
Ah, mice and men, they lay plans, 

A short-lived desire ! 
When the fruit of gladness already we anticipate, 

Sorrow is our harvest. 



^r^:^:r. 



TO A MOUSE 177 

as will be seen, are more vigorous and faithful to the 
meaning of the original. 



TIL EN MUUS, 

Du lille Krae, saa vims og snu, 
Hvi banker saa dit Hjerte nu ? 
£i bar Du n^ig strax at saette 

Afsted din Kaas, 
Frygt ei, at med dit Blod jeg plette 

Vil Piovens Aas I 

Hvor tungt, at Mandens Herskermagt 
Har brudt Naturens Eenhedspagt, 
Og al den stygge Fordom styrket, 

Du naerer nu, 
Mod mig, der, ff5dt som Du i M^^rket, 

£r St0v som Du. 

Du stjaeler sag^ens lidt iblandt — 
Du skai jo leve, ikke sandt ? 
Hvad er saa det ! — af hele Kaerven 

Et enkelt Ax — 
Jeg har jo nok, og Dig er Skjerven 

En Velstand strax. 

Nu er din Hytte lagt i Gruus, 
Paa Muren holder Vinden Huus, 
Ei til en ny lidt Mos Du laenger 

Har i Behold, 
Og frem Decembervinden traenger 

Saa barsk og kold. 

Du Marken saae staae bar og torn, 
Du vidste, Vintren hastig kom. 
Her Du i Ly for Blaesten taenkte 

At finde Ro — 
Da, vee ! det grumme Plovjem traengte 

Ned til din Bo. 

Det lille Skjul af L^v og Straa 
Din hele Konst Du offred paa : 

M 



{ 



178 BURNS IN DANISH AND NORWEGIAN 

Ft2l Huus og Hjem for al din M0ie 

J^ jog Dig ud, 
Den kolde Riim og Rusk at d0ie 

Og Regn og Slud. 

Men saadan det i Verden gaaer, 
Saa saare lidt vor Kl0gt formaaer : 
Ak ! Muus og Maend de laegge Planer, 

En stakket Lyst ! 
Hvor Glaedens Frugter alt vi aner, 

Er sorg vor H0st 

Dog, lykkelig er Du mod mig, 
Kun 0ieblikket r^rer Dig ; 
Men kaster jeg mit Blik tilbage, 

I Mulm j^ staaer, 
Og Taagen over Fremtids Dage 

Det Vaerste spaaer. 



John IparUstortt 

This ballad lends itself easily to translation, and Mr. 
Caralis also gives a good version. The substitution 
of "De stolteste under 0"^ for "Three kings both 
great and high," and similar changes, are variations for 
the sake of the metre which do not interfere with the 
meaning or swing of the piece, or even with the fidelity 
of its rendering. 

J£NS BYGKORN. 

Det var tre Konger i 0sterland, 

De stolteste under 0, 
De havde svoret h^it og dyrt, 

Jens Bygkom skulde dpe. 

De tog en Plov og pitied ned 
Ham dybt i Jordens Skj0d, 

^ The proudest in the isle. 



JOHN BARLE YCORN 1 7 9 

Saa svore de da h^it og dyrt, 
Nu var Jens Bygkorn djki. 

Men milde Foraarsbyger faldt, 

Og Himlen blev saa blaa : 
Da kom Jens Bygkorn op igjen — 

De undred stort derpaa. 

Og Sommersolen skinned varm, 

Og ban blev tyk og svaer ; 
Hans Hoved vaebnet var med Spyd, 

Kom Nogen ham for naer. 

Sig Hasten naermed alvorsfuld. 

Da blev ban tynd og bleg, 
Han sank i Knae, bans Hoved hang, 

Og Ungdomskraften veg. 

Og meer og meer ban sygned nu, 

SkjVndt i sin Manddom end : — 
Da p0nsed strax paa Haevn og Had 

Hans fule Avindsmaend. 

De tog et Vaaben, lang^ og skarpt, 

Og vog ham i bans Knse, 
Og surred som en Erkeskjelm 

Ham til en Kaerres Trae. 

Saa lagde de ham paa bans Bag 

Og prygled bam ei blidt, 
Og hang ham op i Vind og Veir 

Og vendte ham saa tidt. 

Og i en Grube dyb og m0rk. 

Til Randen fyldt med Vand, 
De slyngede Jens Bygkorn ned, 

At sv0mme om ban kan. 

Nu strakte de paa Tillie ham. 

Til endnu st^rre Spee, 
Og kastede bam bid og did, 

Naar Tegn til Liv de see. 

£n maegtig lid fortaere lod 
De Marven i bans Been, 



i8o BURNS IN DANISH AND NORWEGIAN 

Men M^Ueren var allervaerst — 
Han knuste ham paa Steen. 

Tilsidst de drak hans Hjerteblod 

Ved Lystighed og Leg, 
Og see ! jo meer de drak deraf, 

Desmere Glseden steg. 

Jens Bygkorn var en Helt saa bold, 

Han randt af aedel Rod, 
Og smager Du hans Blod engang, 

Da voxer strax dit Mod. 

Da glemmer Manden al sin Vee, 
Hans Lyst blier dobbelt s^d, 

Da kommer Smiil paa Enkens Kind, 
Hvor f0r kun Taarer fl0d. 

Jens Bygkorn leve skal ! — hans Skaal 1 
Tag Alle Glas i Haand 1— 

Gid altid trives i vort Land 
Hans Afkom og hans Aand ! 



<ilIotD gentli), ^toeet Jlfton 

Mr. Caralis renders very prettily upon the whole, and 
gives a very faithful translation ; but, like some of the 
German translators, he greatly lessens the effect of his 
work, at least to Scottish readers, by leaving out the 
name "Afton" and substituting, I think quite unneces- 
sarily, "woodland brook." Of course, to a Danish reader 
the alteration is immaterial. The effect is further lessened 
by changing the adjective in the first two lines. Burns 
uses "gently" in both verses with much effect. 

" Flyd sagtelig, Skovbaek, bland t Buskenes Riis ! 
Flyd mildt, mens jeg synger en Sang til din Priis!"* 

^ B'low softly, woodland brook, amongst rows of bushes. 
Flow gently whilst I sing a song to thy praise. 



FLOIV GENTLY, SWEET AFTON i8i 

has not from the above incidents the charm and music of 

"Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes, 
Flow gently, TU sing thee a song in thy praise." 

Then 

"Skovduer, som kurre i eensomme Dal, 
Du Solsort, som bygger i Haekken saa sval,"^ 

is not a very happy rendering of 

" Thou stockdove whose echo resounds through the glen ; 
Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den." 

These defects are, however, not very serious in an other- 
wise good translation. 

SKOVByEKKEN. 

Flyd sag^elig, Skovbaek, blandt Buskenes Riis ! 
Flyd mildt, mens jeg synger en Sang til din Priis ! 
Min Mary Du lulled i Blund ved din Str0m, 
Flyd sagte, forstyr ikke, Baek, hendes Dr0m 1 

Skovduer, som kurre i eensomme Dal, 
Du Solsort, som bygger i Haekken saa sval, 
Du skrigende Vibe med krusede Top — 
O 1 vaek ei min Elskte af Slummeren op 1 

Hvor stolt, i det Fjeme, fra H^ienes Ring 
At see, hvordan Kildeme snoe sig i Sving ; 
Der vandrer jeg daglig i Middagens Skjaer, 
Min Hjord og min Elskedes Hytte saa naer. 

Blandt Bakker sig skjuler den gr^nklaedte Dal, 
Hvor Primuler blomstre paa Skovbunden sval ; 
Der sad mangen Aften med Mary jeg glad, 
Beskygget af Birkens s^dtduftende Blad 

Krystalklare Baek ! hvor Du yndigt Dig snoer 
Om Hytten, hvor Mary, min Elskede boer ! 
Mens Blomster hun plukker, din s^lveme Flod 
Saa listelig vaeder den sneehvide Fod. 

^ Wood pigeons, who coo in the lonely dale, 
Thou blackbird that buildest in the hedge so cooU 



1 82 BURNS IN DANISH AND NORWEGIAN 

Flyd sagtelig, Baek, under Grenenes Hang ! 
Flyd sagte, Du yndige Maal for min Sang ! 
Min Mary Du lulled i Blund ved din Str^m, 
Flyd sagte, forstyr ikke, Baek, hendes Dr^m 1 



®, toett thott in the Citnlb |pla0t, 

is also very well given, but 

"Her i mit Bryst Du har et Hjem 
I Liv og D0d,"i 

is neither so natural and simple, nor so in accord with 
the spirit of the song, as 

"Thy bield should be my bosom, 
To share it a\ to share it a'." 

Then Bums repeats with much beauty and effect the 
same sentiment and words in each alternate line — 

" On yonder lea, on yonder lea " ; 

" I'd shelter thee, Td shelter thee," etc 

This touch Mr. Caralis entirely ignores, using the sentence 
in each case only once, and so changes the metre, 

"Paa Marken der," 
" Det vilde Veir," etc. 

I have taken the liberty of following the composition 
of the original, and have repeated the words in the follow- 
ing copy: 

0/ VAR DU I DEN KOLDE BLUEST. 

O ! var Du i den kolde Blaest 

Paa Marken der, paa Marken der, 
Min Kappe slog jeg om Dig mod 

Det vilde Veir, det vilde Veir ; 



^ Here in my breast thou hast a home 
In life and death. 



^ _^^ :.^j- 



O, WERT THOU IN THE CAULD BLAST 183 

Og dersom Skjaebnens Uveirsstonn 

Imod Dig br0d, imod Dig br^, 
Her i mit Bryst Du bar et Hjem 

I Liv og D0d, i Liv og Djffd. 

Og stod jeg i den vilde 0rk, 

Saa sort som Nat, saa sort som Nat, 
Dens 0de var et Paradis 

Med Dig, min Skat ! med Dig, min Skat I 
Og var jeg hele Verdens Drot, 

Og vi et Par, og vi et Par, 
Min Krones skj^^nneste Juvel 

Min Dronning var, min Dronning var. 



John <^nbtr00n, ms Jf^- 

With the warm appreciation I have of this most pathetic 
and matchless song, I may be over critical, but it seems 
to me that Mr. Caralis fails here, as he seems not to 
realize the peculiar love-charm which so pervades it 

"John Anderson, Du Kjaere,"^ 

is too common-place for 

"John Anderson, my jo^ \ 
and 

"Din Kind af Solen braendt"* 

is a feeble, feeble picture compared with 

"Your bonnie brow was brent" 
Then 

"Men vi vil f0lges ned"* 

is also very poor and terseless for 

"But hand in hand we'll go"; 

^John Anderson, thou dear. 

'Your cheek tanned by the sun. 

'But we will go down together (accompany each other down). 



1 84 BURNS IN DANISH AND NORWEGIAN 

but "stolpre hjem" ("totter home") is a pretty alteration 
from "totter down," in the original — 

"Na maae vi stolpre hjem, John."^ 

JOHN ANDERSON 

John Anderson, Du Kjaere ! 

Da vi blev f^rst bekjendt, 
Din Lok var sort som Ravnen, 

Din Kind af Solan braendt. 
Nu er din Pande bar, John ! 

Om Issen Sneen staaer, 
Men Himlen vaere, gamie John ! 

Med dine hvide Haar ! 

John Anderson ! ad H0ien 

Vi klavred op til Randen, 
Og mangen lystig Dag, John ! 

Vi havde med hinanden. 
Nu maae vi stolpre hjem, John ! 

Men vi vil friges ned, 
Og sove sammen ved dens Fod, 

John Anderson ! i Fred. 

I have given all the pieces included in the list selected ; 
indeed, there are only some nine more in Mr. Caralis's 
collections, and none of the humorous pieces have a place 
there. 

^ Now we mubt totter home, John. 



SWEDISH. 

The only translations I have been able to find are in a 
collection of some forty songs, published anonymously 
at Stockholm in 187 a.' The author does not attempt 
any of the poems. 

Jlot x' thst axib »' thnt 
This song has inspired the author with its spirit and 
ring, and it is very literally rendered. 
" Ldt narrar sturskt i sidea gS,"* 
instead of 

" Gi'e fools their silks and knaves their wine," 
spoils the second verse, as the author seems to have 
missed the fine stroke which Bums makes in comparing 
the "hamely fare" and "hodden gray" with the "wine" 
and the "silks" respectively. 

TROTS ALLT DET. 

£j hofs det redligt annod v^ 
Sli blicken ned— och allt det; 
Vi gi ftirbi en sidan tral, 
• Vi trotsa armod— allt det I 

Oct) allt det och allt det 
V&rt stind ar Ugt, och allt det ; 

' Nagra Di/Oir at Robert Burns. Stockholm 1 Klcmmingi Aiid- 
^ivariit, 1S73. 

' Let fool* h&ughtily go in silk. 



BU/tXS IN SWEDISH 

Men rang ar myntets prag«l blott, 
Och nunnen guld, trots allt det 

VAr dragt, den ar af vadmal gii, 
Och grof v^ kost, och allt del ; 
Lftt nairar sturskt i siden gA, 
En man ar man, trots allt det ! 
Trots allt det och allt det, 
Blolt glitter ar dock allt det ; 
£n redhg man, bur fattig an, 
kx kung bland man, trots allt det ! 

Fast lord ban kallas, spratten der, 
Som yfs sA stolt, och altt del, 
Hvars blotta rink ju lydas plar, 
Elt nijt ar ban, trots allt det, 
Trots allt det och allt det, 
Hans stjernor, band och allt det — 
Sjelfstandig man, ban set derpA 
Och ler derit och allt det 1 

Monarken skapar riddersman, 
Markis och bertig, allt det ; 
En redlig man ej skapar ban, 
Ej i bans makt ar allt det, 
Och allt det och allt det. 
Trots granna titlar, allt det, 
Har karnfiillt vett, bar manlig dygd 
Dock hogre rang, an allt det 

Si bedjom dA, att komma mA — 
Hvad komma skall, trots allt det — 
Att vett och dygd IrAn bygd till bygd 
MA segra dock, trots allt det. 
Trots allt det och allt det 
Det blir en tid, trots allt det, 
DA bvarje man i verlden vid 
Vdr broder namns, trots allt det I 



_ i «> . ^ w I I 1^1* am I i" III 11—^ «*~w~*~''*" ""^"~' ~^~~"^ ■»— ^— — 



SCOTS, WHA HAE 187 

lacks the precision and martial tread of the original, and 

is done rather loosely, as the first verse will show. 

*'Skottar, som med Wallace blodt 
Som med Bruce ha faran m5tt, 
Som fbr aran stadse glodt, 
FramM, seger eller dod ! " * 

are unworthy, especially the last two lines, to do duty 
for the stirring words — 

^' Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled ; 
Scots, wham Brace has aften led ; 
Welcome to your gory bed, 
Or to glorious victory 1 " 

This writer also adopts the second and less popular 
version of the original 

SKOTTAR, SOM MED WALLACE BLODT. 

Skottar, som med Wallace bl5dt 
Som med Brace ha faran mott, 
Som fbr aran stadse glodt, 
Framiit, seger eller d5d ! 

Nu ar stridens timme nar 
Se, i slutna leder der 
Nalkas stolte Edwards har — 
Edward, slafveri och ndd ! 

Den, som bar fbrradarns glaf, 
Den, som fegt vill bli en slaf, 
Ar ej vard de tappres graf. 
Gripe han till flykten sndd ! 

^ Scots, who with Wallace have bled; 
Who with Bruce have £iced danger; 
Who for honour always have glowed : 
Forward, victory or death t 



l88 BURNS IN SWEDISH 

Den for frihet, kung och lag 
Kampa vill i blodigt slag, 
Fri ar, foil ban ock i dag. 
Hjeltar, framAt, Bruce det bdd! 

Se, hvad sorg fortryckarn bragt, 
Edra bam i bojor lagt, 
Att dem losa ur bans makt 
Offre vi vkr bjertblod rod ! 

SUn tyrannens skaror ner! 
Vaidet skall ej riida mer, 
Fribct bvarje svardsbugg ger, 
FnunAt, seger eller dod ! 



^^ttlb S««« ^H"^ 

Though the touching and pathetic words of this song, 
the best known perhaps of all the songs of Bums, are 
so difficult, indeed are impossible to reproduce, still the 
heart-moving feeling is more or less preserved by all who 
have translated the words. In Swedish, as in other 
languages, " auld acquaintance " is " old friendship," *' auld 
lang syne" is "for old glad days." The fourth line of the 
first verse is rather changed, with a somewhat weakening 
effect, from 

"And days o' lang syne" 
into 

" Och glada barndomsdar,^ ^ 

whilst the last verse of the poem, beginning 

"And surely ye*ll be your pint stoup, 
And surely Til be mine," etc., 

is entirely omitted; with these exceptions the piece is 
faithfully and prettily rendered. 

^ And glad childhood's days. 



^ ^ -j. 



AULD LANG SYNE 189 

f6r FORDNA DAR, 

Skall ganimal vanskap glommas bort, 

Skall den ej droja qvar? 
Skall g^ammal vanskap gl5mmas bort, 

Och glada bamdomsdar? 

For fordna glada dar, min van, 

F6r fordna dar, 
£n hiigkomstskM vi dricka mk 

For fordna dar ! 

Vi plockat blommor gladt, vi tv&, 

Kring hojd och dald det bar; 
Men m&nga trdtta fjat vi gkit 

Se'n fordna dar. 

I backen plaskade vi tv^ 

Tills sent pi qvalPn det var — 
Men vida haf ha skiljt oss kt 

Se'n fordna dar. 

Rack mig din hand, min gamle van, 

Se har min hand du har, 
Och hjertligt dricka vi derpil 

F6r fordna dar ! 

For fordna glada dar, min van, 

F5r fordna dar. 
En hiigkomstskdl vi dricka mk 

For fordna dar ! 



This unknown author not only renders the songs with 
such a nicety of metre that they could be sung to their 
music, but shows in his version of this song how fully 
he catches the echo of the voice which Bums gives to 
nature. He puts the phrase, " My Nannie's Awa," rather 
oddly, though at the same time, when one feels its force, 



IQO 



BURNS IN SWEDISH 



very pathetically — " No Nanny is here." To the last two 
lines of the fourth verse he gives a different reading from 
that of the original — 

" Du trast, som din hyllning M qvallen hembar, 
O, klagenmed mig — ty cj Nanny ar har/'* 

which, though not without pathos, lacks the simple 
beauty and naturalness of the original lines — 

"And thou mellow mavis that hails the nightfa\ 
Give over for pity, my Nannie's awa*." 

EJ NANNY AR HAR. 

Naturen sig ikladt sin gronskande dragt, 
Sm& lammen^ de braka pit angen s& tackt, 
Och foglarne drilla i lundema der ; 
Mig gor det ej gladje — ej Nanny ar harl 

Snodroppen, gullvifvan, de smycka hvar dal, 
Violen, den badar i morgondagg sval ; 
De smarta mitt sinne, den fagring sk skar 
Erinrar om Nanny — ej Nanny ar har ! 

Du larka, som svingar fr&n faltet sk yr 
Och b&dar for herden, att morgonen g^ryr, 
Du trast, som din hyllning kx. qvallen hembar, 
O, klagen med mig — ty cj Nanny ar har ! 

Allvarliga host, kom i vissnande skrud, 
Om sommarens d5d gif mig tr5stande bud ; 
Blott vintem, den dystra, och snon ar mig kar 
Och gladja mig nu — d^ cj Nanny ar har ! 

JlotD Qnttlp, S^tDeei ^fton. 

This song is also rendered with much fidelity, though 
in the last two lines of the third verse, 

^ Thou thrush who pays thy homage to the evening, 
O, grieve with me, for no Nanny is here. 



FLO IV GENTLY, SIVEET AFTON 



191 



*' Har vallar jag hjorden frdn morgon till qvall, 
Ty bar kan jag sk&da min alskades tjall,''^ 

is not quite happy for 

''There daily I wander as noon rises high, 
My flocks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eye.* 

One or two words might have been rendered a little 
more closely to the original, but the song reads very well — 

FLYT SAKTA, O AFTON, 

Flyt sakta, o Afton, langs gronskande stig, 
Flyt sakta— en lofsiing jag egnar it dig ; 
Der slumrar nu Mary vid sorlande strdm : 
Flyt sakta och st5r ej min alskades drom ! 

Du dufva, som kuttrar i skog och p& fait, 
Du koltrast, som piper i tornbusken gallt, 
Grontofsade vipa, o tystnen, jag ber, 
Och stdren den slumrande skona ej mer! 

Af hojder, o Afton, omgifves din strand, 
Fr^n dem gk smk rannilars sling^nde band ; 
Har vallar jag hjorden irka morgon till qvall, 
Ty har kan jag skdda min alskades tjall. 

Har ar det sk skont i hvar leende dal, 
Har gullvifvor blomma i skogsdungen sval ; 
Har ofta, nar qvalldaggen giuter sitt regn, 
Hos Mary jag sitter i bjorkarnes hagn. 

Min Afton, din vdg flyter klar som kristall 
Forbi hennes hydda i lekande sval ; 
Nar blommor att plocka hon g&r p^ din strand, 
Skalmskt vater du snohvita foten ibland. 

Flyt sakta, o Afton, langs gronskande stig, 
Flyt sakta — min lofs&ng den galler ju dig ! 
Der slumrar nu Mary vid sorlande str5m, 
Flyt sakta och st3r ej min alskades drom ! 

^Here I watch the flock from morning till night, 
For here I can see the cot of my beloved. 



192 BURNS IN SWEDISH 

(!}, toert thon in the (ihnlb |pla0i 

Here our author fails to keep up the standard he has 
reached in the above translations. 

" Pd enslig stig " » 
is not only feeble, but does not give the meaning of 

" On yonder lea," 

Then he follows Mr. Caralis's rendering of the close of 

the first verse. 

^ Du fann en fristad i min famn 
I lif och dod/' 2 

is unworthy of this author when offered for 

"Thy bield should be my bosom 

To share it a', to share it a'." 
Then 

" Och stod jag pit den vildaste 

Och storsta hed,"» 

lacks the precision and simple power of 

"Or were I in the wildest waste, 

Sae black and bare, sae black and bare." 

Like Mr. Caralis, this writer also overlooks the fine touch 

of Bums in repeating the alternate lines. I suppose the 

explanation is, the translators were unacquainted with the 

tunes and did not know that the melody demanded it, 

though they should have observed the touch was required 

by the full tone of Bums's rhythm. I have therefore 

taken the liberty of repeating them in the song, so that 

" Pa enslig stig " reads " Pa enslig stig, pa enslig stig." etc. 



^ In lonely path. 

^Thou found a shelter in my bosom. 

In life and death. 
'And stood I on the wildest 

And largest heath. 



<?, WERT THOU IN THE CAULD BLAST 193 

STODE DU I KYLIG BLAST. 

O stode du i kylig blAst 

P& enslig stig, pd enslig stig, 
S& dmt jag skulle med min plaid 

Dd skydda dig, d^ skydda dig. 
Om olycksodens bittra storm 

Ikring dig Ijdd, ikring dig lj5d, 
Du fann en fristad i min famn 

1 lif och dod, i lif och dod. 

Och stod jag p^ den vildaste 

Och storsta bed, och storsta bed, 
Den beden blef ett paradis, 

Blott du var med, blott du var med. 
Ocb vore jag all verldens kung, 

Ocb vi ett par, ocb vi ett par, 
Min kronas skonaste juvel 

Min drottning var, min drottning var. 

Tbe translator in tbis song catcbes tbe poetic toucb, 
wbicb so many miss, by repeating tbe word "red" in 
tbe first line; but strangely, in tbis and in otber songs, 
be avoids tbe words " my love," " lover," etc., and uses 
tbat of "friend." So bere we bave 

*^0 my luve is like a red, red rose" 

rendered 

"Min van ar lik en r6d, rod ros,"» 
and 

"And fare tbee wecl, my only luve" 

rendered 

" Och far nu val, min cnda van, " • 

^ My friend is like a red, red rose. 

'And &re now well, my only friend. 

N 



1 94 BURNS IN S WEDISH 

which considerably changes the spirit and character of 
the song. 

EN ROD, r6D ROS. 

Min van ar lik en r6d, rod ros, 
Som vackts af juni-dag; 
Lik Ijufva visors xnelodi 
I innerligt behag. 

S& huld som du min fagra mO, 
Ar varm den tro jag gaf ; 
Och jag skall alska dig, till dess 
£j droppe fins i haf. 

Till dess ej droppe fins i haf, 
Tills sol smalt klippans hall ; 
Och jag skall alska dig, min van, 
Alit in i lifvets qvalL 

Och far nu val, min enda van, 
Farval, farval en tid ! 
Jag kommer dter snart, om an 
Oss skiljde verlden vid. 



®£ a' the Jltrt0 the SBinb ran Iplato. 

Our author has taken a little more liberty with this song 
than with those we have hitherto considered. 

" Fast ULngt jag ar fr^n henne skiljd, 
Min tanke Ayr dock han, 
Utofver skog och berg och flod, 
Bestandigt till min Jane."^ 



^Tho' long from her I am separated, 
My thoughts still fly away. 
O'er wood, and mountain, and river. 
Always to my Jane. 



.iMa 



OF A' THE AIRTS THE WIND CAN BLAW 



195 



This is a wide latitude from 

"There wild-woods grow and rivers row, 
And mony a hill between; 
But day and night my fancy's flight 
Is ever wi' my Jean." 

But even with a few departures from his usual fidelity 
to the original, he gives a very touching song. 

AF ALLA VINDAR, 

Af alia vindar vestanvind 
Ar den jag mest har kar ; 
I vaster bor den fagra mdn, 
Hon, som min alskling ar. 
Fast lAngt jag ar triin henne skiljd, 
Min tanke flyr dock han 
Ut5fver skog och berg och flod 
Bestandigt till min Jane. 

Jag henne ser i daggstankt ros, 
Ser hennes skdna bild ; 
Jag henne hor i fogelns siing, 
Hor henne, Ijuf och mild. 
Vid kalians rand, p^ ang, i dal 
Hvarenda blomma van, 
Hvar fogel, som i lunden slAr, 
Erinrar om min Jane. 

O flagta, vestan, flagta blid 
Igenom lofrik land, 
De tragna bin fr&n hojd och dald 
F5r hem i qvallens stund ! 
Och for till mig den hulda mon, 
Som ar s^ fin och van ! 
Vid hennes loje sorgen flyr, 
Sii alsklig ar min Jane. 



1 96 BURNS IN SWEDISH 

Jfoktt Jlttber00tt. 

Like so many translators this one also misses the mean- 
ing of the words " my jo," and renders it, like them, •* my 
friend " (min van), which sadly mars the homely loveliness 
of the song, but with this regrettable defect, it is rendered 
with fidelity, and possesses much of the pathos of the 
original 

JOHN ANDERSON 

John Anderson, min van John, 
Den g^g jag forst dig s^g, 
Ditt h^r i svarta lockar 
Kring vackra pannan l&g. 
Nu ar din panna kal, John, 
Din lock, som sno ar den, 
Men signe Gud din hjessas sno, 
John Anderson, min van. 

John Anderson, min van John, 

Vi uppfbr kullen gitt, 

Och mingen frojdfull dag, John, 

Vi med hvarandra fitt. 

Nu m^ vi stappla ned, John, 

Men hand i hand dock an 

Till kuUens fot att slumra fdi, 

John Anderson, min van. 

Without knowing anything about this writer one would 

almost believe he were an old disappointed bachelor who 

had forsworn the very use of such words, not only as 

" my love," " my jo," " my dearie," but even " wife," since 

he persists in putting all such under the list of friends, 

and so 

"Jag bar en van, och hon ar min"* 

^ I have a friend, and she is mine. 



I ■ ■■ ^m 



n ■ I I'^f .1 



NAEBODY 197 

is made to do duty for 

" I hae a wife o' my ain." 
This spoils the meaning of the first part of the song, 
which otherwise is rendered with the felicity and charm 
which this writer displays in so many of his efforts. 

INGEN, 

Jag bar en van, och hon ar min — 

Dela vill jag med ingen ; 
I ingens alskog jag tranger in, 

Slikt jag tdl ock af ingen. 
Jag har en fyrk, som sjclf jag vann — 

Derfbr tackar jag ingen ; 
Val jag &t ingen Una kan, 

Ldnar heller af ingen. 

Jag ingens herre vara vill — 

Tral jag blif^rer At ingen ; 
Ett svard jag har, som kan sld till, 

Vill ta stryk utaf ingen. 
Jag vill %k fri och glad min stig, 

Grama mig ofver ingen — 
Och bryr s& ingen sig om mig, 

Bryr ock jag mig om ingen. 

As my collection is necessarily limited I cannot extend 
this portion of my task, and part with pleasant memories 
from our unknown friend, as he evidently has the poetic 
and musical gift indispensable to a translator of poetry, 
especially of lyrical poetry; and I much regret that he 
has given us no example of his power in the poems, and 
especially in some of the humorous pieces of Bums. 



DUTCH. FLEMISH. 

I TREAT the Dutch and Flemish languages as one, 
the base and construction being the same, and any 
differences in certain words and idioms not being of 
sufficient importance to justify a foreigner in treating 
them separately. 

There is no complete translation of Bums in this 
language, nor indeed any great number of pieces translated 
by one writer, but difibrent writers have published render- 
ings of certain pieces. The first with which I deal are 
those by the Flemish poet, Frans de Cort^ His collec- 
tion contains undoubtedly the best translations into the 
Dutch language, though it is to be regretted their number 
is so limited, there being only fifty pieces in all. One 
has no right to complain of this, as by the title the 
translator only professes to give the most beautiful songs, 
though we might differ as to the fifty given being the 
most beautiful. 

I take the representative pieces already dealt with in 
other languages, so far as contained in this collection, and 



^De Schoonste Liederen van Robert Bums^ uit het Schotsch 

vertaald, door Frans de Cort. Bnissel, Dnikkerij, Van L. Tniyts. 

1862. 

198 



^^^^^^^^^^ "^ 




A MAN'S A MAN FOR A' THAT 



199 



fortunately there is in it an example of nearly every 
class, the first being 

Jl jEan'0 a JRan iot a' that 

F. de Cort's song can hardly be called a translation, and 
is rather a poor copy. Take a few examples; the first 
verse is a fair specimen. 

** Wie eerlijk is, al is hij arm, 

Mag elk in de oogen kijken. 
Wij heffen 't hoofd, al zijn wij arm. 

Zoo hoog op als de rijken. 
In vorstenhuis en tempel 

Te schittren zij ons niet vergund... 
De rang is maar de stempel, 

De mensch, het goud der munt ! " * 

The last two lines are quite right; indeed, they could 
hardly lend themselves to incorrect rendering, but the rest 
are poor for 

"Is there, for honest poverty. 

That hangs his head, and a' that ; 
The coward slave, we pass him by. 

We dare be poor for a' that 
For a' that, and a' that, 

Our toils obscure and a' that, 
The rank is but the guinea stamp, 

The man's the gowd for a' that.*' 

^Who honest is, though he be poor, 
May look anyone in the &ce; 
We lift our head, though we are poor, 
As high as do the rich. 
In princely house and temple 
To shine may not be granted us ; 
The rank is but the stamp, 
Man the gold of the mint. 



20O BURNS IN DUTCH AND FLEMISH 

Similar liberties are taken with the other verses. The 
characteristic and suggestive "For a' that and a' that," 
which gives such force and swing to this stirring song, he 
ignores, and so is led into diffliseness both of matter and 
expression. 

" For a* that, and a' that. 

Their tinsel show, and a' that ; 
The honest man, though e'er sae poor, 
Is king o' men for a' that," 

he renders 

"Al spoke in zijne woning 

De naakte ellende te alien kant, 
£en eerlijk man is koning, 
Is de eerste van zijn land ! " ^ 

This escapes, though it barely escapes, being doggerel as 
compared with the noble original song. The last two 
lines are about the best rendered in this version, 

** Dat alle menschen vrinden 
En broeders zuUen zijn,"' 

and, though weak, at all events convey the meaning, 

"That man to man, the warld o*er, 
Shall brothers be for a* that"; 

but the beginning of the verse has little attempt at 
translation. 

"Then let us pray that come it may, 
As come it will for a' that," 

* Though naked poverty on all sides 
Haunts his dwelling, 
The honest man is king — 
Is the first in all his land. 

'That all mankind friends 
And brothers may become. 



■~i<iH5!^3 



A MAN'S A MAN FOR A' THAT 20 1 

is replaced by a philosophical reflection that a day of 
happiness and peace will come, 

"Het denkbeeld trooste ons bij het wee, 
Dat wij gelaten dragen."* 

The above may be powerful enough to rouse the Flemish 
spirit. It would fall flat on the Scottish — the light beer 
of Flanders compared with the more exciting national 
beverage of the Scot. 

W/E EERLIJK IS, AL IS HIJ ARM, 
Frans de Cort. 

Wie eerlijk is, al is hij arm, 

Mag elk in de oogen kijken. 
Wij heffen 't hoofd, al zijn wij arm. 

Zoo hoog op als de rijken. 

In vorstenhuis en tempel 
Te schittren zij ons niet vergund... 

De rang is maar de stempel, 
De mensch, het goud der muntl 

Zijn onze spijzen niet zoo fijn, 

Zijn 't lompen, die ons dekken, 
£i ! laat den dommerikken wijn 

En zij' tot vreugde strekken I 

Al spoke in zijne woning 
De naakte ellende te alien kant, 

£en eerlijk man is koning. 
Is de eerste van zijn land ! 

Hoe statig stapt, van knechts omringd, 

Daar ginds die fiere jonker... 
^t Is slechts zijn goud, dat helder blinkt, 

Want in zijn hoofd is 't donker. 

Als op zijne eermetalen 
Des denkers oog onwillig stuit, 

^ May the thought comfort us in our sorrow, 
That we resignedly endure. 



202 BURNS IN DUTCH AND FLEMISH 

Ziet hij den pronker pralen 
£n lacht hem hartlijk uiti 

De vorst kan ridders maken, ja, 
Dat ligt in zijn vermogen ; 

Maar eerelijke lieden...ha ! 
Hij zou het vruchtloos pogen 1 
Het schoonst blazoen der aarde, 

Al schittre 't niet het allermeest, 
Is innerlijke waarde, 
Een eedle, wakkre geest ! 

Het denkbeeld trooste ons bij het wee, 

Dat wij gelaten dragen, 
Dat eens een dag van heil en vrc^ 

Voor alien op zal dagen ; 

Dat rijken loon zal vinden 
De ware deugd en niet haar schijn ; 

Dat alle menschen vrinden 
En broeders zuUen zijn 1 



Jfxrhn IparleBrom 

is the only drinking song in this collection. The render- 
ing of this popular ballad is as perfect as " A Man's a 
Man for a' that" is faulty. It is not only given with 
rare verbal fidelity, but the lightsome trot of the verse 
and the rollicking humour are faithfully reproduced. Any 
slight departures from strict verbal accuracy are rather of 
the nature of improvements than otherwise, — such as 
"Like a rogue for forgerie," which Mr. de Cort gives 
"Gelijk eenen moordenaar " ; ^ 

**They fiUM up a darksome pit 
With water to the brim,** 

^ Like a murderer. 



n : ■ 






JOHN BARLEYCORN 203 

is given 

" Met water vulden zij *nen put, 
Zoo duister als hun zin";^ 

which I think rather an improvement, as the old ballads 
always had moral hints interwoven in their narrations ; but 
such departures are few, as the reader may see. 

JAN GERSTEKOORN, 
Frans db Cort. 

Drie koningen waren er in den oost, 

Drie koningen hoog en groot ; 
En ze hebben gezworen bij plechtigen eed 

Jan Gerstekoom den dood. 

Ze vatt'en 'nen ploeg en ploegden hem 

Diep in der aarde schoot ; 
En ze hebben gezworen bij plechtigen eed— 

Jan Gerstekoom was dood. 

Maar vrolijk keerde de lente we^r. 

En regen drenkte 't veld ; 
Jan Gerstekoom verrees uit zijn graf. 

En alien waren ontsteld. 

Des zomers stond hij, dik en sterk, 

Te pronken in de zon, 
Zoo wel voorzien van speer en punt, 

Dat niemand hem deren kon. 

Doch als de herfst gekomen was, 

Toen werd hij geel en bleek ; 
Zijn plooiend lijf en waggelend hoofd 

Bewezen, dat hij bezweek. 

En ach ! zijne frissche gezonde kleur 

Verschoot al meer en meer ; 
En nu ontvlamde de doodlijke haat 

Der booze vijanden we6r. 

1 With water filled they a pit 
As dark as their mind. 



204 



BURNS IN DUTCH AND FLEMISH 

Ze namen een wapen lang en scherp — 
Zoo weerloos stond hij daar !... 

En hieuwen hem ne6r, en bonden hem vast 
Gelijk eenen moordenaar. 

Ze legden hem nu op den rug 
£n sloegen hem scheef en krom, 

En hingen hem op in wind en storm, 
En draaiden hem om en om. 

Met water vulden zij 'nen put, 

Zoo duister als hun zin, 
En wierpen, opdat hij zwomme of zonk*, 

Jan Gerstekoom er in. 

Dan smeten zij hem op den vloer 

Tot verdere marteling ne6r, 
En rukten, daar hij nog levend was. 

Hem rusteloos he6n en we£r. 

Ze droogden over een vlammend vuur 

Zijner beendren merg en vet ; 
Wreedaardig heeft een mulder dan 

Hem tusschen twee steenen verplet 

En ze hebben genomen zijn hartebloed 

En gedronken in bet rond ; 
En hoe meer ze dronken, hoe meer genot 

Er iedereen bij vond. 

Jan Gerstekoorn was een stoute held, 

Verrichtend edel werk, 
Want drinkt ge van zijn hartebloed. 

Zoo wordt ge moedig en sterk. 

Verdrijven kan het alle smart, 

Verhoogen alle geneugt, 
Het kan ja zelfs een weduwenhart 

Doen poppelen van vreugd. 

Ter eere van Jan Gerstekoorn 
Neem ieder een glas in de hand, 

En bloeie steeds zijn nageslacht 
In 't lieve vaderland 1 



....^_^_ > :^ . J^^ 



^ ^J5A ^^-^ -^0.5^ 205 

The love songs have naturally, and I would add, pro- 
perly, attracted the most of Mr. de Cort*s attention. 



Jl l^eb, l^b l^o0e 

is naturally and gracefully reproduced, though two of the 
lines are departed from, I think with disadvantage to the 
song. 

"As fair art thou, my bonnie lass. 
So deep in love am I," 



is given 



** Ik min u met mijn hart, schoon lief, 
Zoo te^r als met mijne oogen ; " ^ 



(i 



and he, like most of the other translators, as remarked 
elsewhere, does not observe the deep poetic touch in the 
redy red rose,*' and merely renders it " red rose." 

MIJN LIEF IS ALS DE ROODE ROOS, 
Frans de Cort. 

Mijn lief is als de roode roos 
Den knoppe versch ontsprongen ; 

Mijn lief is als de melodie 
Bij snarenspel gezongen. 

Ik min u met mijn hart, schoon lief. 

Zoo te^r als met mijne oogen : 
Ge blijft mij duur tot dat de zon 

De zeeen zal verdroogen. 

Tot dat de rotsen smelten in 

Den gloed der zonnestralen 
Beminnen zal ik u zoo lang 

Als ik zal ademhalen. 

^ I love you with my heart, dear love. 
As tenderly as with my eyes. 



2o6 BURNS IN DUTCH AND FLEMISH 

Vaarwel, zoet lief, mijn eenig lief 1 
Nu moet ik henen ijlen — 

Ik keere we^r, al scheidden ons 
Tien duizend lange mijlen ! 



§onxdt JRarg 

is fairly well rendered. The local names, Pier o' Leith 
and Berwick Law, compel him to alter the imagery 
somewhat, which he does very well. The first two lines 
of the second verse, rendered 

" De Wimpel waait, de trommel dreunt, 
Ten kampe rust zich ieder moedig,"^ 

are not quite so stirring as 

"The trumpet sounds, the banners fly. 
The glittering spears are ranked ready," 

but the others are well and tersely rendered, and the 
song as a whole is excellent. 

O RE lie MU NU DEN ZIL VREN KEUC. 
Frans de Cort. 

O reik mij nu den zilvren kelk, 
Waarin het sap der druive blinke, 

Opdat ik, v66r ik henen ga, 
Ter eere mijner liefste drinke. 

Het onwe^r zweept de broze boot, 
Waarin de makkers mij verbeiden ; 

Het oorlogschip ligt klaar ter re^ — 
Ik moet, o Mary, van u scheiden ! 

De wimpel waait, de trommel dreunt. 
Ten kampe rust zich ieder moedig ; 

^The banner waves, the drum beats; 
For the fight all equip themselves courageously. 



BONNIE MARY 207 

Men hoort van ver het krijgsgehuil, 
De strijd is hevig, beet en bloedig... 

Maar 't is het onwe^r noch 't gevecht, 
Wat ramp ze mij 00k voorbereiden — 

O Mary, wat mij aarzlen doet, 
Dat is, dat ik van u moet scheiden 1 



<!)£ a' the ,^irt0 tht 8Rinb can hiatal. 

Mr. de Cort translates only the first two verses, which 
are said to be the only two actually composed by Bums. 
Here again the translation is almost perfect. There is a 
graceful touch in one departure which he makes from 
the original. He renders 



by 



"There's not a bonnie flower that springs 
By fountain, shaw, or green," 

'* In ieder bloempjen, dat er spruit, 
Wil ik haar hulde bi^n." ^ 

JEAN, 
Frans de Cort. 

Van alle vier de streken, waar 

De wind uit suist of bniischt, 
Min ik vooral het westen, daar 

Mijn meisje in 't westen huist. 
Ons scheiden bosschen, stroomen, ach f 

£n bergen bovendien, 
Maar mijne ziel is nacht en dag 

Bij mijne lieve Jean ! 

In 't dauwbepereld bloemekijn 

Zie ik ze zoet en schoon ; 
In 't lustig kwelend vogellijn 

Hoor ik haars liedjens toon. 

^In every floweret that blooms 
I wish to offer her homage. 



2o8 BURNS IN DUTCH AND FLEMISH 

In ieder bloempjen, dat er spruit, 
Wil ik haar hulde bi6n, 

En ieder vooglijn, dat er fluit, 
Herinnert mij aan Jean ! 



John ^nber00n, mg Jfxr. 

The muse seems to have left Mr. de Cort as he took this 
pathetic song in hand, the charm with which he renders 
the love songs just mentioned, as well as the tender 
touches of Bums, being to a great extent absent. In 
such passages as the following — 

"Your bonnie brow was brent," 
he makes 

" Toen was uw aanzicht rozerood " ; * 
and 

" But now your brow is beld," 
he gives 

" Uw voorhoofd niet meer glad" — * 

entirely spoiling the continuity of thought and feeling 
which Burns shows; and that finest touch of all, 

"And sleep thegither at the foot," 

he entirely misses, and gives 

"En rusten dra aan 's heuvels voet."' 

lOHN ANDERSON, MIIN SCHAT. 
Frans de Cort. 

John Anderson, mijn schat, John ! 
Als gij mijn vrijer waart, 
Toen was uw aanzicht rozerood 
En ravenzwart uw baard. 

^Your face was rosy-red." 

'Your forehead no longer smooth. 

'And soon shall rest at the hilFs foot. 



JOHN ANDERSON. MY JO aoi» 

Sneeuwblank is thans uw haar, John 1 
Uw voorhoofd niet meer glad... 
God z^ene uwen ouden dag, 
John Anderson, mijn schat ! 

John Anderson, mijn schat, John ! 
Wij klommen blij te mocd' 
Des levens steilen heuvet op, 
Trouw deelend zuur en 2oet. 
Nu gaan wij band aan band, John I 
At stromplend over 't pad, 
En Tusten dra aan 's heuvels voet, 
John Anderson, mijn schat \ 

Id the humorous love songs Mr. de Cort is evidently 
less at home than in the pathetic. 



Making every allowance for the difficulty in translation of 
this song, such errors as the following might surely have 
been avoided. Thus Mr. de Cort omits entirely the line, 

" On blythe yule night when we were fou," 
and substitutes 

"Schuchter sprak bij Maggie aan."' 
Perhaps being " fou " is so unknown in Belgium that he 
does not wish to hint at such a thing for fear of con- 
taminating his countrymen's morals, though his excellent 
translation of "John Barleycorn" makes this excuse more 
than doubtful. But there is no such excuse for the 
following. To see 

" Maggie coosi her head fu' heigh, 
Look'd asldent and unco skeigh, 
Gart poor Duncan stand abeigb," 

' Timid); he spoke (o Maggie. 



210 BURNS IN DUTCH AND FLEMISH 

rendered 

" Maggie hief den trotschen kop, 
Net gelijk 'ne houten pop, 
Haalde fier de schouders op..."^ 

is to recognize that Mr. de Cort fails to catch this perfect 

picture of a country coquette; as unfortunate is he with 

Duncan — . 

''Duncan sighed baith out and in, 
Grat his een baith bleert and blin', 
Spak' o' lowpin' o'er a linn." 

What a picture I — one of the most thrilling humorous love 
scenes ever written — hardly falling behind the "fair scene 
at Dalgarnock'' — Maggie, with her head in the air look- 
ing asklent and skeigh at poor Duncan, whom she un- 
ceremoniously puts out of her way, and the poor luckless 
wight, sighing out and in, his eyes bleert and blind 
with weeping, or rather greeting (it is more violent than 
weeping), and in his desperation speaking of " lowpin' o'er 
a linn" — the most heroic touch in humorous love song 
writing. To see this graphic description of poor Duncan 
rendered 

" Duncan sidderde als een riet, 
Werd als zinloos van verdriet, 
Wilde springen in den vliet..."' 

makes one feel it is beyond criticism. A friend of mine, 
who is a keen observer of the character and habits of 
animals and men, tells of a carter he knew who was the 

^ Maggie tossed her haughty head, 
Just like a wooden doll : 
Proudly shrugged her shoulders. 

^ Duncan trembled as a reed, 
Went almost mad with grief, 
Wished to jump into the stream, 



■.'S--1 



DUNCAN CRAY 2ii 

most inveterate and powerful user of profane language 
he ever met. The school-boys used to run to hear his 
outbursts when they saw anything go wrong with him. 
One day he was driving a cartload of sugar, when some 
of the bags got torn in turning past some wood, and 
the bulk of the sugar poured out amongst the mud. 
The boys rushed up to hear the explosion, but Jock 
looked at the results of the catastrophe with consterna- 
tion for a few minutes, scratched his shock-head, and 
muttering "It's nae use," commenced saving as much of 
the sugar as he could. He confessed to my friend after- 
wards that he could not find language equal to the great- 
ness of the occasion. Like this worthy carter I say as to 
any criticism of the above burlesque, " It's nae use." 
The only other line I refer to is the last 

"Now they're crouse and canty baith," 

he simply does not attempt, but substitutes 

"En — daarme^ is 't liedjen uit";^ 
and 

"Hal ha! die liefde!"' 
instead of 

" Ha, ha, the wooing o't," 

interferes sadly also with the flow of the translation. 

HA I HA! DIE UEFDEI 
Frans de Cort. 

Duncan wilde uit vrijen gaan. 

Ha ! ha ! die liefde ! 
Schuchter sprak hij Maggie aan. 

Ha ! ha ! die liefde ! 

^ With that my ditty is ended. 
^ Ha, ha, that love. 



BURli/S IN DUTCH AND FLEMISH 

f^^Sgie hjef den trotschen kop 
Net gelijk 'ne lioiiicn pop, 
Haalde tier de schouders op... 

Ha ! ba ! die liefde 1 

Duncan bad en smeekte voort. 

Ha ! ha 1 die liefde ! 
Ma^e lei geen enkcl woord. 

Ha 1 ha ! die liefde ! 
Duncan sidderde als een riet, 
Werd als linloos van verdrict, 
Wilde springen in den vliet... 

Ha I ha 1 die liefde I 

Snel verandrcn we^r en wind. 

Ha I ha! die liefde \ 
Minnesmart vei^aat geiwind. 

Ha ! ha \ die liefde ! 
Duncan zei : te sterven waar' 
Al te dom en al te naar — 
Dat ze vrij naar... Frankrijk vaar* I 

Ha 1 ha ! die liefde ! 

Hoe het kwam, me zegt het mij ? 

Ha ! ha ! die liefde ! 
Hij gcnas, maar ziek werd zij. 

Ha ! ha ! die liefde I 
En ter stilling barer pijn 
Baatte er gcenc medecijn ; 
Duncan moest baar doctor zijn... 

Ha ! ba ! die liefde ! 

Duncan was niet boos van aard. 

Ha ! ha I die liefde t 
Ma^e was ine^lijdenswaard. 

Ha 1 ha [ die liefde I 
Spoedig nam bij zijn besluit, 
Noemde Maggie lijne bniid, 
En — daarmte is 't liedjen uit. 

Ha I ha ! die liefde \ 



THE BRA W WOOER 2 1 3 

"Iht IpratD SRoxrer. 

Here also F. de Cort to a great extent fails, as, apart 
altogether from his infidelity to the language and imagery 
of the original, he misses so many naive points in this 
great drama of humour. 

*' He spak* o' the darts in my bonnie black een, 
And vowed for my love he was dying," 

is entirely lost when rendered, indeed transprosed, into 

^ Hij zeide, dat hij, van me geerne te zien, 
Zou sterven eer 't jaar was vervlogen.** * 

Then 

" Guess ye how, the jad 1 I could bear her," 

is even more absurdly changed into 

" Ei I nichtjen, dat zoudt ge bekoopen, bekoopen ! " ' 

Indeed, F. de Cort's translation goes on the very reverse 
scale to the spirit of the piece which, like some great 
play, rises to the very hilltops of humour — that deftest 
stroke of humour which Burns draws with such a master- 
hand in the gently sarcastic and sweetly spiteful inquiry — 

" I spiered for my cousin, fu* couthy and sweet. 
Gin she had recovered her hearin'. 
And how her new shoon fit her auld shachl't feet," 

or, as some versions give it, 

"And how my auld shoon suited her shachl't feet, 
But, heavens I how he fell a-swearin', a-swearin*," 

and which he entirely spoils. 

^ He said that he for love of me 
Would die ere the year was out. 

*0 cousin, ni make you repent it, repent it. 



2 1 4 BURNS IN DUTCH AND FLEMISH 

" Ik vroeg hem : ziet nichtjen nog immer zoo scheel? 
Hoe is 't met hare ooren en tanden? 
£n lijdt zij, och heer ! aan de voeten nog veel ? 
Hij sloot mij den mond met de handen, de handen !"* 

This is quite unworthy of Mr. de Cort ; it not only misses 
the naive points but borders on the commonplace, in- 
deed, on the vulgar. He misses the power Bums shows 
in his questions by making them such as the heroine 
could ask couthily and sweetly ; the deafness and the effect 
of the shoon on the feet might be temporary troubles, 
but squinting, false teeth, etc., are defeats which this 
evidently talented young woman with all her proved tact 
could not possibly have inquired about couthily and 
sweetly. " He closed my mouth with his hand " is an 
action which others attribute to this fickle Lothario ; 
Burns's view of the matter, though less polite, is more 
likely. These are the worst blots on this translation, some 
smaller blurs being counterbalanced by some very good 
lines. 

MIJN VRIJER. 
Frans de Cort. 

In meie verscheen er in 't dal een gezel. 

Die poogde mijn harte te rooven — 
De mannen ! zoo zei ik, niets haat ik zoo fel!... 

Verbeeld u, dat wou hij gelooven, gelooven ! 

Verbeeld u, dat wou hij gelooven ! 

Hij zeide, dat hij, van me geeme te zien, 
Zou sterven eer 't jaar was vervlogen — 

£i 1 riep ik, zoo sterf dan uit liefde voor... Jean !..• 
De hemel vergeev* mij de logen, de logen ! 
De hemel vergeev* mij de logen ! 

^ I asked, does my cousin squint as much as ever? 
How are her ears and teeth? 
Do her feet trouble her as much as they did? 
He closed my mouth with his hand, with his hand. 



-P'^^sf^rfi^r^r-. 



THE BRA IV WOOER 215 

Hij sprak van zijn goed, van het geld, dat hij won 
En zwoer, dat hij seffens zou trouwen — 

Ik hield mij, als of 't mij niet schelen en kon^ 

Maar peinsde, het mochte mij rouwen, mij rouwen I 
Maar peinsde, het mochte mij rouwen ! 

Hij trok er van door, maar wat doet me de boef ! 

£r was geene weke verloopen, 
Daar zag ik hem sluipen bij Bess, in de hoev'... 
* Ei ! nichtjen, dat zoudt ge bekoopen, bekoopen ! 

Ei ! nichtjen, dat zoudt ge bekoopen ! 

Aldra was het kermis ; ik ging naar het feest, 

Daar moest hij zich stellig bevinden. 
Ik zag hem en keek, voor de grap, zoo bedeesd, 

Als wou me de duivel verslinden, verslinden I 

Als wou me de duivel verslinden ! 

Maar tederlijk zag ik hem aan — van ter zij', 

Uit vrees, dat de buren het zagen — 
Toen kwam hij, als dronken, gewaggeld naar mij. 

En smeekte : laat af me te plagen, te plagen ! 

En smeekte : laat af me te plagen ! 

Ik vroeg hem : ziet nichtjen nog immer zoo scheel ? 

Hoe is 't met hare ooren en tanden? 
En lijdt zij, och heer ! aan de voeten nog veel ?... 

Hij sloot mij den mond met de handen, de handen ! 

Hij sloot mij den mond met de handen ! 

Hij bad me zoo vurig : och, wordt mijne vrouw ! 
'k Wil anders niet langer meer leven 1 — 

Opdat hij van kommer niet sterven en zou, 

Heb ik hem mijn woord maar gegeven, gegeven 1 
Heb ik hem mijn woord maar gegeven t 

S hae a 8Rife 0" mg ain 
(naebody) 

is better. Mr. de Cort seems " from home " in dealing with 
the humorous feats of Bums. Even here, where that 



2i6 BURNS IN DUTCH AND FLEMISH 

humour is not so naive as in the last two pieces, he is 

very unequal. 

^ I hae a wife o' my ain, 
111 partake wi' naebody/' 

loses its simple power in 

'* Mijn wijQe is kuisch en net, 
Mij mint ze, en anders niemand!"^ 

The other parts of the song are very well given, except 
that he evidently misunderstands 

" I hae a penny to spend, 

There — thanks to naebody " ; 

when he renders it 

" Ofschoon mij de armo^ kwelt, 
Daar, beedlaar,...dank het niemand!"' 



NIEMAND. 
Frans dk Cort. 

Mijn wijfje is kuisch en net, 
Mij mint ze, en anders niemand ! 

'k Onteere niemands bed, 
Mijn bed bezoedelt niemand ! 

Ofschoon mij de armo^ kwelt, 
Daar, beedlaar,... dank het niemand I 

'k Ontleen van niemand geld, 
Maar leen er ook aan niemand ! 

£n ben ik niemands heer, 
Ik ben de knecht van niemand ! 

Ik heb een zwaard tot weer. 
En laat me slaan door niemand ! 

^ My wife is pretty and chaste, 
She loves me and nobody else. 

' Although I am troubled with poverty, 
There, beggar... thank nobody for it. 



/ HAE A WIFE a MY AIN 217 

'k Wil vrolijk zijn en vrij, 
Zal treurig zijn om niemand ! 

'k Bekreun om niemand mij, 
Om mij bekreun' zich niemand ! 



^0 JRatg i^ S^^^"- 

Here again, as we get back to the pathetic love song, 
F. de Cort is more fortunate in his efforts. Sometimes an 
unnecessary license is taken. 

"Seest thou thy lover lowly laid?" 

is not improved in 

"Ziet gfij me v66r uw graf gebukt"^ 

Then the beautiful love-revelation of the third verse ^ is 

only partially appreciated and partly depicted in this 

version. 

"Er steeg een lied uit ieder nest, 
Er bloeiden bloempjens v66r den voet,"' 

given as a rendering of 

"The flowers sprang wanton to be prest, 
The birds sang love on every spray," 

somewhat mar the unique beauty of this marvellous love 
scene. 

A AN MARY IN DEN HEMEU 
Fkans db Cort. 

Nog toeft ge, al is uw glans vergaan, 
O star, die geem den morgen groet, 



^ Seest thou me kneeling at thy grave. 
^ See page 126. 

• There rose a song out of every nest. 
And flowers bloomed at our feet. 



2 1 8 BURNS IN DUTCH AND FLEMISH 

En kondigt Marys sterfdag aan, 
Die mijne wond we6r bloeden doet 
O Mary, mijner ziele ontrukt, 
Waar, lieve schim, verwijlt ge nu? 
Ziet g^j me v66r uw graf gebukt ? 
Hoort gij mijn bang gezucht om u ? 

Kan ik wel ooit den heilgen stond, 

't Gewijde bosch vergeten, ach ! 

Waar, hart aan hart en mond aan mond, 

We elkander liefden 6dnen dag? 

O neen ! de tijd moog* wondren doen, 

't Herdenken bare nieuwe pijn, 

Ic Vergeet toch nooit den laatsten zoen... 

Wie dacht, het zou de laatste zijn ! 

De Ayr kuste murmlend, keer op keer, 

De keien des beboschten zooms, 

Des dorens loof vennengde te^r 

Zich met het groen des berkenbooms ; 

£r steeg een lied uit ieder nest, 

Er bloeiden bloempjens v66r den voet — 

Helaas ! daar glom de zon in 't west, 

De schoone dag was he^ngespoed. 

O niets vergat ik, niets en week 
Uit mijn geheugen, sinds dien stond... 
Gelijk de bedding eener beek 
Wordt dieper steeds mijns harten wond 
O Mary, mijner ziele ontrukt, 
Waar, lieve schim, verwijlt ge nu? 
Ziet gij me v66r uw graf gebukt ? 
Hoort g^j mijn bang gezucht om u 7 

There are other pieces in his collection which are also 
excellently translated, and I regret that the limits of 
my work will not admit of my inserting a few more 
examples of the work of this accomplished writer. I 



O PHILLY, HAPPY BE THAT DAY 219 

cannot refrain, however, from adding his version of 

® IPhUlii, hatrps be that Pag, 

as it is perhaps the very best translation in the whole 
collection. 

WILL Y EN PHILL K 
Frans de Cort. 

HIJ. 

Gezegend zij de schoone stond, 
Toen ik bij 't geurig hooi u vond, 
£n, zoo als gij mijn harte wont, 
Het uwe won, o Philly ! 

Zij. 

Gezegend zij het plechtige uur, 
Toen ik beleed, ge waart mij duur, 
£n gij mij zwoert, vol liefdevuur, 
Aan mij te zijn, o Willy I 

Hij. 

Zoo als mijn oor het lentaccoord, 
Der vooglen daaglijks liever hoort, 
Wordt langs zoo meer mijn oog bekoord, 
Als 't u beschouwt, o Philly I 

Zij. 

Zoo als de roze heller gloeit 
£n frisscher geurt hoe meer ze bloeit, 
Ook in mijn hart de liefde groeit. 
Die ik u wijdde, o Willy ! 

Hi J. 

Verg^ldt de zon mijn rijpend graan, 
Dan ben ik blijde en aangedaan ; 
Maar u te zien, naast u te gaan, 
Vcmikt me meer, o Philly ! 



220 BURNS IN DUTCH AND FLEMISH 

ZlJ. 

De zwaluw vocrt van over zee 
Met zich de lieve lente mee ; 
Maar hartelust en zielevre^ 

Brengt gpj mij aan, o Willy ! 

Hi J. 

De bij zuigt eedlen honing uit 
De bloem, die haar den kelk ontsluit ; 
Maar ambrozijn is wat ik buit 
Op uwen mond, o Philly ! 

Zlj. 

Zoet geurt, als de avond lavend daalt, 
Het geitenblad van dauw bestraald ; 
Maar welke geur, wat zoetheid haalt 
Bij uwen kus, o Willy ! 

HiJ. 

Fortunas wieltjen draaie vrij ! 
Wat geeft het hoe mijn nummer zij ! 
Ik min u, liefde schenkt ge mij : 
Ik wensch niets meer, o Philly 1 

Zij. 

Wat vreugden ook het goud bescheer*, 
Gelukkig ben ik, wie is 't meer : 
Ik heb u lief, gfij mint me we6r? 
Meer wensch ik niet, o Willy ! 

I now take 

^he (fTottar'e <§;atQrba5 ^tght, 

by Pol de Mont^ 

Mr. Pol de Mont says it is '* translated freely from Robeit 
Bums " ; and this frank description of his work naturally 

^ Zaterdagavond op het Land, door Pol de Mont. 



"rg.g J B » ^ '''^^^ ;. •-^--^- .^j:.;,: - 



r//E COTTAR'S SATURDAY NIGHT 221 

not only disarms any criticism as to its fidelity, but 
would render any such criticism pedantic. The high 
tone and spirit, the deep pathos which characterize 
that noble poem in the original, are to a great extent 
preserved in its Netherland garb. What Bums in 
Holland might have done ! Pol de Mont all through the 
poem applies it to his own country, though oddly enough 
the faces of the cottar, his wife, and children, and the 
breed of the dog in the illustrations with which the 
work is beautifully adorned, are all distinctly Scottish. 
The following examples show the manner in which the 
original is departed from — 

" Na gansch een week van eerzaam veldwerk, treedt 
de landman huiswaarts met verhaaste schre^, 
en, staat hem nog op 't voorhoofd 't edel zweet, 

— *t is morgen Zondag, tijd van troost en vre^ ; — 
gereinigd hark en schop I Hij is ter rust gereed ! " ^ 

''Quick'' step is not happy, as the labourer is generally 
too tired to go otherwise than as Bums so aptly puts it — 
"weary, o*er the moor." The picture is, however, not 
an unworthy copy of 

"The toil-worn cottar frae his labour goes. 
This night his weekly moil is at an end, 
Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes, 
Hoping the mom in ease and rest to spend. 
And weary, o'er the moor his course does homeward bend." 

In the father's advice to the children we have the same 



^ After a whole week of honest field work, 
The labourer homeward goes with quick step; 
And the honest sweat still lies on his forehead. 
To-morrow is Sunday, time of comfort and peace, 
Let rake and spade be cleaned. He is ready for rest 



222 BURNS IN DUTCH AND FLEMISH 

departure from the form, though the spirit is there — 

'* Zoo gaame geeft hij hun den wijsten raad ! 

' £en heiFge wet weze u des meesters woord ; 
zorgt, dat gij steeds uw' man bij d'arbeid staat; 

wien gij ook dagdief weet, doet gij stil voort... 
Vergeet hct nooit: gij dient den eeuw'gen Heer; 

blijft dag en nacht getrouw aan recht en plicht ; 
drukt steeds vol moed het enge pad der eer, 

en smeekt den Hemel om zijn' steun en licht... 
Wie Gode ootmoedig vraagt, vindt altijd hulp en weer V**^ 

The translator does not attempt to reproduce in the sense 
of the original — 

"An* mind your duty duly, mom and night" 

This advice from a Scottish parent to his child needs 
no explanation, as referring to their evening and morning 
devotions; but here again the whole picture is no mean 
copy of the original — 

"Their mastets' and their mistresses' command, 

The younkers a' are warned to obey ; 
An' mind their labours wi' an eydent hand, 

An' ne'er, though out o' sight, to jauk or play : 
An* O ! be sure to fear the Lord alway ! 

An' mind your duty duly, morn and night ! 
Lest in temptation's path ye gang astray, 

Implore His counsel and assisting might : 
They never sought in vain that sought the Lord aright** 

^So gladly he gives them his wisest counsel — 
' Let your master's word be a sacred law to you ; 
Take care you be behind no one at your work... 
Whom you know to be an idler, do you persevere quietly, 
Never forget, you serve the eternal Lord. 
Continue day and night faithful to your duty. 
Tread always full of courage the narrow path of honour. 
And pray to Heaven for help and light ; 
Who humbly asks of God finds always help and protection.' 



THE COTTAR'S SATURDAY NIGHT 



323 



These are fair examples of this excellent translition or 
rather copy, and so I refrain from reviewing the other 
verses. Some expressions which give point and power to 
the original, for instance, 
" A strappan youth, he tafs the mother's eye," 
rendered 

" Ecn' flinkeii knaap, — ziSo had lij hem gedroomd, 
de moeder, voor hare oudste ! " ' 

lack the vigorous touch of Bums, but they are not 
numerous. The family worship scene is reproduced with 
great beauty and simplicity, though one important verse is 
unhappily omined. 

It is, however, much to be regretted that Mr. Pol de 
Mont does not attempt even the adaptation of another of 
the finest verses in the poem, viz., 

" Then homeward all take off their several way ; 

The youngling cottagers retire to rest : 
The parent pair their secret homage pay, 

And proffer up to Heaven the warm request, 
That He who stills the raven's clam'rous nest. 

And decks the lily fair in fiow'ry pride, 
Would, in the way His wisdom sees the best, 

For them and for their little ones provide ; 
But chiefly, in their hearts with grace divine preside." 

Instead of this he introduces what is a completely new 
verse, 

" Sne) vliedt de tijd . . . Met uur der ruste slaat — 
Het 'blakertje' in de linker, brengt de vrouw 
naar 't net vertrekje, waar hun leger staat, 
de beide kleinsten, dekt en kust le trouw. 



224 



BURNS IN DUTCH AND FLEMISH 



Dan, 'wijl de vader, bij de deur op wacht, 
den bond terugroept, die naar buiten springt, 

verzelt blond Antje, fluist'rend, o zoo zacht, 
— zacht, als het vinkje, dat in *t haagje zingt, — 

den liev'ling tot de baan, blank kronk'lend door den 
nacht..."! 

The scene is a pretty one, but it is a poor substitute 
for the sublime picture of Burns. 
The verse with which Bums concludes this poem, * 

" O Thou ! who poured the patriotic tide. 

That stream'd through Wallace's undaunted heart," 

Mr. Pol de Mont entirely omits, perhaps owing to its 
strong Scottish flavour, but the preceding two verses with 
which he closes his version of the poem are, allowing 
for their transplanting to Dutch soil and associations, very 
creditably copied. 

** Zoet Nederland, — mijn land, *t zij Zuid of Noord, 

aan 't need'rig lot des landmans hangt uw lot. 
Baronnen, prinsen schept— een koningswoord, 

een eerlijk man is 't edelst werk — ^van God ! 
In stille dorpen, onder 't strooien 'dak 

des veldlings, wonen zede en eenvoud nog. 
In hellekunsten sterk, in deugden zwak, 

hult menig in fiuweel schande en bedrog! 
Doch hecht en recht is 't hert, dat klopt in 't werkmanspak ! 

* The time flies rapidly . . . now sounds the hour of rest ; 
The brass candlestick in her left, the wife brings 
The two. youngest to the neat little room, where stand their beds. 
Covers them, up and kisses them fondly ; 
Then wliilst the father, on guaid at the door. 
Calls back -the dog» which bounds, outside, 
Fair Annie whispering — oh, so softly, 
Softly as the finch that sings on the hedge. 

Accompanies her sweetheart on to the road, winding white through 
the night. 




oC de/ifoK^-^ 



E-J8'>^bCSfrff^ 



THE COTTAR'S SATURDA Y NIGHT 



225 



" Mijn Vaderland, van alien dierbaarst pand, 

voor u zend ik tot God mijn' vuur'ge bc^, 
dat lang nog, in des bouwmans kloeke hand, 

de spade blink' bij 't eenzaam werk der vred ! 
'van vreemde smetten 'blijf zijn volksaard rein, 

van wulpschheid en bederf zijn kuische haerd 1 
Wat kroon of schepter 00k in rook verdwijn' ! 

vrees niets, zoo lang, fier op uV grens geschaard, 
uw kloeke boerenstand uw schild, en zwaard mag zijn ! ^ ^ 

To see 

'* From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs. 
That makes her loved at home, revered abroad," 

so completely changed into 

"Zoet Nederland,— mijn land, 't zij Zuid of Noord, 
aan 't need'rig lot des landmans hangt uw lot," 

is another departure which grates upon one's sensibilities 
on reading the poem. Pope's well-known line is ren- 
dered with literal fidelity, and one regrets that some of 

* Sweet Netherland, my country, whether south or north, 
Upon the husbandman's humble fate depends your destiny. 
Barons and princes are created by a king's word, 
An honest man is the noblest work of God. 
In quiet villages under the thatched roof 
Of the peasant, still modesty and simplicity dwell ; 
Strong in hellish tricks, feeble in virtues, 
Many envelop in velvet shame and deceit ; 
But strong and right is the heart that beats under the workman's coat. 

My Fatherland, dearest treasure of all, 
For you I send to God my fervent prayer, 
That long in the peasant's ready hand 
May the spade still shine at the lonely work of peace. 
From foreign taints may the national character continue pure, 
From voluptuousness and corruption his chaste hearth. 
Whatever crowns or sceptres may vanish in smoke. 
Fear nothing, so long as proudly ranged on your frontier. 
Your brave peasantry may be your shield and sword. 

P 



A 



^«w* 



326 BURNS IN DUTCH AND FLEMISH 

the strong lines of Bums, such as "Luxury's contagion, 
weak and vile/' and "stand a wall of fire around their 
much-loved Isle," are not similarly dealt with, still, even 
with these and other drawbacks, the picture will compare 
favourably with others whose authors do not so frankly 
confess to a " free translation," though it also is naturally 
weaker than Bums's powerful drawing — 

"From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs, 

That makes her loved at home, revered abroad ; 
Princes and lords are but the breath of kings, 

' An honest man's the noblest work of God ' : 
And certes, in fair virtue's heavenly road, 

The cottage leaves the palace far behind ; 
What is the lordling's pomp ! a cumbrous load, 

Disguising oft the wretch of human kind, 
Studied in arts of hell, in wickedness refined I 

" O Scotia, my dear, my native soil I 

For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent ! 
Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil 

Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content ! 
And, O ! may Heaven their simple lives prevent 

From Luxury's contagion, weak and vile 1 
Then, howe'er crowns and coronets be rent, 

A virtuous populace may rise the while, 
And stand a wall of fire around their much-loved Isle." 

I now give the poem as rendered by this sympathetic 
translator. 

ZA TERDAGA VOND OP HET LAND, 
Pol de Mont. 

Hoe koud en snerpend toch de herfstwind loeit ! 

Hoe snel verzwonden een Novemberdag I 
Van de akkers keeren guil en os, vermoeid, 

de kraai scheert nestwaarts, traag, met loomen slag. 



THE COTTAR'S SATURDAY NIGHT 327 

Na gansch een week van eeriaam veldwerk, ireedt 
de landman huiswaaits met verhaaste schre£, 

en, staat hem nog op 't voorhoofd 't edel zweet, 
— 't is tnorgen Zondag, tijd van troost en vre* ; — 

gereinigd harlc en schop ! Hij is ter rust gerecd I 

Daar krijgt hij dra, door d'ouden lindeboom 

gansch overschaduwd, 't lieflijk huisje in 't zicht, 
waar 't kleine volkje, wachtend, dat hij koom', 

verlangende oogen op het veldpad richt 
Zijn' warme haerdsteS, blinkend als niet een', 

de guUe lach op vrouwtjes lief gelaat, 
rijn' lieve blozaards, hupplend om hem been ; 

geen loon ter waereld, dat daarboven gaat ! 
Aan zwoegen denkt hij niet, aan huislijk hnl alleeni 

Dan, 'wijl het jongste, op vaders knie te paerd, 

"naar Hoorn of Schagen of naar Marken" rijdt, 
100 keeren, van des buurmans land of waard, 

00k de oudsten weer, om 't wcdenicn verblijd. 
Hun eerst'ling, maagdeken van twintig jaar, 

—een meisje als melk en bioed, Antje is haar naam, — 
licht kocht zij 't nieuwe jurkje thans, waamaar 

lij lang veilangde, of— dat de nood soms praam', 
schenkt zij haar ganscbe loon, verbeugd, aan 't oudrenpaar. 

Hoe hart'lijk klinlen groet en wedergroet t 

Was geen daar ziek, die ganscbe lange week? 
En — opdat de avond sneller henenspoed', 

verbaalt m' elkander al het nieuws der streek. 
De moeder, naaiend, mazend, wat zij mag, 

maakl de oude spullen weer als nieuw zoo goed, 
en wenscht, in stilt', dat ze in een droombeeld zag, 

wat eens het lot haar* kind'ren brengen moeL... 
Dan, Vader spreekt !— En alien luist'ren vol onlzag 1 

Zoo gaeme geeft hij hun den wijsten raad 1 
"Een heil'ge wet weze u des meestera woord; 

zoigt, dat gij steeds uw* man bij d'arbeid staat ; 
wien gij 00k dagdief weet, doet gij stil voort... 



228 BURNS IN DUTCH AND FLEMISH 

Vergeet het nooit : gij dient den ceuw*gen Heer ; 

blijft dag en nacht getrouw aan recht en plicht ; 
drukt steeds vol moed het enge pad der eer, 

en smeekt den Hemel om zijn' steun en licht... 
Wie Gode ootmoedig vraagt, vindt altijd hulp en weer !" 

Doch hoor, daar tikt men aan het deurtje, zacht — 

Wie dat mag wezen? Vraag het Antje maar.... 
— Een jong'ling uit de buurt.... Een toeval bracht 

straks, op den thuisweg, beiden tot elka^.... 
Zoo spreekt zij, aarz'lend ! Doch, met lust en leed, 

ziet moeder 't vuur, dat uit hare oogen straalt, 
vraagt naar zijn ambacht, hoe zijn vader heet, 

en denkt met vreugd, Vijl *t meisje 't al verhaalt, 
dat zij een* braven borst, Goddank, te kiezen weet ! 

Met fluist'rend " welkom ** brengt hem Antje bin : 

een* flinken knaap,— z6o had zij hem gedroomd, 
de moeder, voor hare oudste ! En 't gansch gezin 

vemeemt met vreugd, dat hij wat praten koomtv 
En Vader spreekt terstond van wind en we^r ; 

bang zwijgt de knaap, weet nauw'lijks, wat geschiedt.... 
Hem loopt het langs het hert, zoo warm, zoo teer.... 

Wat hem den mond sluit, moeder heelt hij 't niet... 
"Een' brave ziel," denkt zij ; "dat gaat in deugd en eer!" 

— O zoete liefde, zalig, wie u vond ! 

Leert niet den mensch de hoogste wijsheid, dat 
geen zeeg'ning op het gansche waereldrond 

zulk heil kan schenken als deze dene schat ! 
Ach, zoo daar ooit, in *s levens wrange pijn, 

een goede geest den sterv'ling laafnis bood, 
dan was zitlks, waar, in eerbaar samenzijn, 

een lievend paar elkaar in de armen sloot, 
bij bloeiend meidoomloof en lentezonneschijn ! 

Is daar wel den, die in den boezem nog 
een herte kloppen voelt voor eer en trouw, 

die, listig als een' slang, met snood bedrog, 
't onschuldig maagdenhert bestoken zou ? 






TWiff COTTAR'S SATURDAY NIGHT 229 

Vloek, wie aan deugd, geweten, eerbaarheid 

verzakend, laffe prooi der wulpsche lust, 
de onwetende, die hij naar d'afgrond leidt^ 

als een verrader op de lippen kust, 
en met den val des kinds der oud'ren schand bereidt I 

— Nu dampt volgeurig op den avonddisch, 

waarrond zich elk genoeg'lijk nederzet, 
de warme gort Geen koningsmaal, gewis ! 

— maar goede luim en e^tlust kruiden bet. 
Dan brengt de vrouw — waar of zij 't baalde of vond ? 

want beden dient 00k 't beste niet gespaard ! — 
den kaas, als honig smeltend in den mond, 

en noodt elkeen tot proeven, en verklaart : 
een jaar reeds was bij oud^ als 't vlas in bloesem stond ! 

£n, stil genoten, eindt bet maal alras. 

Dan scbaren alien zicb den baerd nabij ; 
in 't Bijbelboek, waaruit reeds Grootva&r las, 

zoekt Vader, "waar men 't lest gebleven zij....* 
Het boofd ontbloot, met emstvol, kalm gelaat, 

leest bij, zeer traag en luid, bet beilig Woord, 
boe God bet goede loont en straft bet kwaad, 

of Psalmen, die eens Sion beeft geboord.... 
Luid klinkt bet : " Vreest den Heer, en prijst Hem vroeg 
en laat !" 

En, als een priester, plecbtig leest de Va&r, 

boe Abrabam geni vond v6or den Heer, 
boe Mozes' bede Jozua's zwakke scbaar 

deed zegepralen op des vijands beir; 
boe Koning David, dicbter beide en beld, 

aan God in lied bij lied zijn' zonden kloeg; 
boe Job, door ramp bij rampen neergeveld, 

den scboot vervloekte, die als kind bem droeg ; 
boe 't scbrikk'lijk zienerswoord des tempels val voorspelt... 

Soms leest bij, boe, voor Adams scbuld en.zond', 
't onscbuldig Offer bloed en leven scbonk ; 

boe 's Menscben Zoon geen naakten steenklomp vond, 
waarop zijn boofd ter ruste nederzonk ; 



230 BUKf/S m DUTCH AND FLEMISH 

hoe slechts een handvol jong'ren, iwak aan kracht 
maar groot aan beldenmoed, ter zee, te land, 

de Blijde Boodschap aan de menschheid bracbt, 
hoe Gods Prophcei, op Pathmos' heimvol strand, 

des Eeuw'gen vloelc vernam, voortdond'rend door den nacht 1 

Daar knielt hij, priester, vader, echtgenoot, 

v6or d'EeuVgen Vorst, wiens troon de hemel schraagt, 
Vijl toete hoop, ver boven 's waerelds nood, 

op nclite wiek zijn' ziel ten hemel draagt ; 
daar liAn zij na den dood elkander weer, 

voor steeds vereend in 't ongeschapen licht ; 
daar vloeit geen traan, daar lucht geen boezem meer : 

volmaakt genot straalt van Gods aangezicht, 
en eindloos, eindloos kteitst de Tijd door de eeuw'ge spheer. 

—Hoc bleek, hierbij, der kerken majesteit ! 

Kunst vindt men daar, en slenter nog wel \ meest, 
waar men, met luide plecht, v6or oa^^en spreidt 

der vroombeid schoonen schijn, maar niet haat' geest. 
Voor lulk een Indden blijft gij doof, o Heer ! 

Doch waar, in 't stof geknield, in 't kleed der smert, 
U de armen smeeken, eenvoudvol en teer, 

genadig hoort gij naar de taal van 't hert, 
en in des Levens Boek schrijft gij hunn' namen neer. — 

Snel vliedt de tijd.... Het uur der ruste slaaL— 

Het "blakertje" in de linker, brengt de vrouw 
naar 't net vertrekje, waar bun leger staat, 

de beide kleinsten, dekt en kust ze trouw. 
Dan, 'wijl de vader, bij de deur op wacbt, 

den bond tenigroept, die naar buiten springt, 
verzelt blond Antje, fluist'rend, o zoo zacht, 

— lacht, ab bet vinkje, dat in 't haagje zingt, — 
den liev'ling tot de baan, blank kronk'lend door den nacht... 

Zoet Nederland, — mijn land, *t zij Zuid of Noord 
aan 't need'rig lot des landmans bangt uw lot. 

Baroenen, prinsen schept— een koningswoord, 
een eerljjk man is 't edelst werk — van God ! 



THE COTTAR'S SATURDAY NIGHT 



2Zl 



In stille dorpen, onder 't strooien dak 
des veldlings, wonen zede en eenvoud nog. 

In hellekunsten sterk, in deugden zwak, 
hult menig in fluweel schande en bedrog 1 

Doch hecht en recht is 't hert, dat klopt in 't werkmanspak I 

Mijn Vaderland, van alien dierbaarst pand, 

voor u zend ik tot God mijn' vuur*ge befi, 
dat lang nog, in des bouwmans kloeke hand, 

de spade blink' bij 't eenzaam werk der vred I 
* Van vreemde smetten ** blijf zijn volksaard rein, 

van wulpschheid en bederf zijn kuische haerd ! 
Wat kroon of schepter ook in rook verdwijn' 1 

vrees niets, zoo lang, fier op uw* grens geschaard, 
uw kloeke boerenstand uw schild, en zwaerd mag zijn 1 

E. J. Potgieter has translated only four pieces from 
Burns, on the whole very well done.^ In 

the spirit and tenderness of the original are faithfully 
preserved, though one or two lines are a little unhappy. 
For instance, 

**Toen gij uw best deedt om mijn hart,"* 

fails to reproduce the homely tenderness of 

•*When we were first acquent"; 
and 

"En slapen ginder niet alleen"' 

misses entirely the deep pathos of 

" And sleep thegither at the foot" 

I give this, upon the whole, excellent translation. 

^ PoetUf van £. J. Potgieter. Uitgave van Zimmermann, Haarlem. 
1886. 
'When you tried your best to gain my hearL 
'And yonder will not sleep alone. 



232 BURNS IN DUTCH AND FLEMISH 

CLAES HENDRIKSZEN 

E. J. POTGIETER. 

Toen gij uw best deedt om mijn hart, 

Claes Hendrikszen, mijn schat ! 
Toen was uw haar als git zoo zwart, 

Uw voorhoofd spiegelglad ; 
Gerimpeld is dat voorhoofd nu ; 

Zoo wit als sneeuw dat haar, 
£n toch de Hemel zegene u, 

Claes Hendriksz, beste va6r 1 

Wij klommen zaim den heuvel op, 

Claes Hendrikszen, mijn schat 1 
£n hebben op zijn groenen top 

Veel vreugde en heils gehad ; 
Wij strompUen nu vast naar benedn, 

Maar helpen d'een den a^r, 
En slapen ginder niet alleen, 

Claes Hendriksz, beste va^r ! 

The effort with 

Jl iRan'0 a ^an for a' that 

is not so successful. The translator has evidently not 
caught the spirit and swing of the poem. The first four 
lines are a fair specimen — 

" Heet eerlijke armod al geen schand, 
Toch beeft en bloost ze om wat niet ? 
Maar wien ze ook sla in slaafschen band, 
Wij schamen ze ons zie dat niet 1 " ^ 

The last verse is, however, very well done, and the work, 
though sadly inferior to the original in terseness and bold- 
ness, forms even in this garb a fine example of inde- 
pendent manliness. 



^Although honest poverty is not called shame, 
Still it trembles and blushes for what not? 
But whoever it may put in slavish bonds, 
We feel ashamed for that not 1 



A MAN'S A MAN FOR A' THAT 

EERUJKE ARMOk. 
E. J. POTCIBTEK. 

Heet eerlijke armoS al geen schand, 

Toch beeft en bloost ze om wat niet^ 
Maar wien ze ook sla in slaafschcn band, 

Wjj scbamen ze ons zie dai niec I 
Trots elk beklag, trots elk betwaar 

Om ons geloof, verbeeld je : 
De rang, da.t is de stempel maar, 

De man is 't goud van 't geeltje 1 

Ons maal moog' slecht of sober zijn 

En kaal ons buis en wat niet? 
Geef dwazen fulp en dart'len wijn, 

't Ontberen schaadt zie dat niet. 
Spijt al 't verguld, spijt al 't vemis, 

WaarmeS zij klaat'rend prijken, 
Wie bij doodarm doodcerlijk is, 

Schat vorsten maar 's gelijken \ 

Zie ginds dien dwaas uit oud geslacfat, 

Lid van 't bestuur van wat niet ? 
Zijn naam gelijke een tooverkracht, 

Zijn brein begrijpt zie dat niet I 
Schoon ster bij ster verdoolde en viel 

Op 't borstpand van de botbeld, 
2kK> ge onafbanklijk zijt van ziel, 

Gij schateit om de zotheid I 

Een koning kan tot ridder slaan 

En aadlen wien en wat niet ? 
Maar eerlijkbeid waait niemand aan, 

Gunst, voorspraak baat zie dat niet I 
Trots al 't gezag, trots al "t gewigt, 

Waar ampten me£ bekleeden, 
Een hart vol liefde, een hoofd vol licht 

Zijn hoc^r waardigbeden t 
Zoo laat ons bidden om den tijd, 

Die komen zal, trots wat iiiei? 



234 BURNS IN DUTCH AND FLEMISH 

Waarin zal gelden wijd en zijd 
Geboorte of goud ? zie dat niet ! 

Waarin verdienst, waarin verstand 
Gevierd worde en geprezen, 

En alle li^n uit alle land 
Als breeders zullen wezen. 

The only other specimen I give of Potgieter's work is 

<|RAts JEort00n, 
which is a very excellent rendering of this touching song. 

MAR II MOR/SON, 

E. J. POTGIETER. 

O 1 laat mij niet aan 't venster beijen, 

Daar sloeg het uur door u bepaald ! — 
Laat me in die blikken mij vermeijen, 

Waarbij geen goud in luister haalt ! 
He Zou 't Zand der woestenij niet vreezen, 

Noch 't hevig blaak'ren van de zon, 
Wanneer gij 't loon des togts woudt wezen, 

Beminde Marij M orison. 

Wie gist'ren door *t geluid der snaren 

Zich ook ten dans verlokken liet, 
He Zat d^r, — maar zag de blijde paren, 

Maar hoorde 't kozend fiuist'ren niet ! 
Schoon deze lief, die schoon mogt heeten, 

En gene 't nog van beide won, 
Mijn hart sprak (zou 't u ooit vergeten?) 

" Ge zit geen Marij Morison ! " 

Kunt gij hem dan de zielrust rooven, 

Die gaame voor u stierf, schoon kind ! 
Den levenslust in 't harte dooven, 

Welks feil is, dat het u bemint? 
Wekt niet zijn liefde uw wederliefde 

Laaf hem voor 't minst uit me^lij's bron ; 
Want scherts of blik, die kwetste of griefde, 

Viel nooit in Marij Morison. 



THE COTTA/eS SATURDAY NIGHT 



335 



J. Van Lennep,' who, like Sir Walter Scott, was both 
poet and novelist, and also, like him, gained most celebrity 
in the latter capacity, has translated some twenty pieces. 
They are very well done, though perhaps they do not 
attain the standard of Potgieter. Whilst presenting the 
meaning and tone, he does not always adopt the imageiy 
of the original. They give the Dutch reader an enjoyable 
version of the songs and poems translated by this writer. 
I give the following three examples : 

"^ht fflj)ttar'« ^atattas Hiflht 

DB SATUSDAG-AVOND IN DB HUT. 

]. Van Lehnep. 

De najaarsstorm huilt snerpend rond : reeds vroeg 

Spreidt de avondslond lijn scfaaaQw de velden over : 
Het runddicr keert, bemodderd, van de pioeg ; 

Karkouw en kraai zoekt rust in 't dorrend lover. 
De landman staakt zijn werk, en raapt in 't rond 
Kouweel en spade en gaRel van den grond. 

Deze avond heefl het werk der week beslaten 

En morgen wordt de zoete rust genoien. 
Hij neemt in 't end, langs welbekende paSn 
Met zware schreSn de lange huisreis aan. 

Hij zict lijn stulp in't groene dal gelegen, 

Bcschaduwd door een olm, dien eeuwen beugt. 

Daar wa.gg'len reeds de kleintjens vader tegen, 
Met blij gejoel en kinderlijke vreugd. 

Het knappend vuur, de haardsteen, glad gewreven, 
De welkomstgroet, die 't wijfjen hem komt bitn, 
Het zoet gesnap van 't jongsken op zijn kniSn, 

't Heeft al zijn zorg en matheid ras verdreven. 

Inmiddels, me& van 't wekelijkscb werk gekeerd, 
Trefin, blij te mofl, njn ouder knapcn binnen, 

IJ. Van Lennep, IHtng^fieety. Leiden : A. W. SjHhoff. 



-4. 



236 BURNS IN DUTCH AND FLEMISH 

Die, vroeg reeds tot arbeidzaamheid geleerd, 
Bij herder, boer, of bouwman 't weekgeld winnen. 

Zijn oudste hoop, zijn Jansjen, frisch en schoon, 
In d' eersten bloei der beste levensjaren, 

Breng^ mede in huis het zuur verworven loon, 
Al wat zij reeds voor.de ouders wist te sparen. 

En toont meteen aan moeder 't nieuwe jak. 

Voor morgen, waar zij laatst haar over sprak. 

Met luide vreugd, aan 't hart ontweld, beg^oeten 
Ze elkander bij het langgewenscht ontmoeten : 

Men snapt en schertst en lacht met blij geluid : 

£en iedert kraamt om 't hardst zijn nieuwtjens uit 
De tijd snelt voort, op vluggen wiek vervlogen. 
Het oud'renpaar ziet, met partijdige oogen, 

De toekomst in, die 't lief gezin verbeidt, 
Wijl moeder 't goed der kind*ren zit te lappen. 
En 't oude, puur of 't nieuw waar*, op te knappen, 

En vader soms een woord tot stichting zeit 

Hij leert hun dan, oplettend na te komen 
Al wat de baas of juffrouw hun gebiedt, 

Hun werk te doen, voor d'arbeid niet te schroomen. 
— "Wilt (regt hij) schoon geen sterveling u ziet, 

Den werkenstijd met beuz'len, nooit verkwisten. 
Eert God vooral ! en zorgt dat gij uw plicht, 
Naar Zijn gebod, bij dag en nacht verricht. 

Bidt dat Zijn raad uw schreden moog* geleiden, 
Opdat gij in verzoeking niet verwart 

Niet vruchteloos zult gij God's hulp verbeiden, 
Zoo gij die zoekt met recht geloovig hart" 

Maar hoor! men klopt, doch zachtjens. Wie mag 't wezen? 

Lief Jansjen, die 't bezoek wel heeft verwacht, 
Vertelt alsnu, en O ! niet zonder vreezen : 

Het is de knaap, die haar heeft t* huis gebracht. 
De moeder ziet, hoe liefde, slecht verborgen, 

In 't vonk'Iend oog van Jansjen, op 't inkarnaat, 

Dat eike wang ontgloeit, geschreven staat 
Zij vraagt den naam des vrijers, 't hart vol zorgen, 



THE COTTAR'S SATURDAY NIGHT 



237 



En staamlend klinkt het antwoord; doch met vreugd 
Hoort moeder, 't is geen lichtmis, die niets deugt 

En Jansjen doet den jong'ling binnenkomen : 
Ken fiksche borst, die moeder wel bebaagt, — 
£n recht te vre^n is nu de jonge maagd, 
Dat 's minnaars komst niet slecht werd opgenomen. 

De vader praat van vee en akkerbouw ; 
De jong'ling zwijgt : want hoe zou hij vermogen 
Te spreken, dus van blijdschap opgetogen ! — 

Zijn blooheid, zijn verwarring valt der vrouw 
Weldra in 't oog en O ! zij schept behagen 
In d' eerbied, dus haar dochter toegedragen. 

Men spreidt den disch : de meelkoek lacht bun toe : 
't Is Scbotlands spijs : wie, dien zij niet zoQ lusten ? 

Ook melksoep, vnicht der bontgevlekte koe, 
Die in den hoek lig^ achter 't schot te rusten. 

En moeder heeft, ter eere van den gast, 

Het huisgezin op oude kaas verrast, 
Door haar gemaakt, nu Mei een jaar geleden : 

£n meer dan eens wordt voor den jongen bloed, 
Uit vriendlijkheid, een groote homp gesneden, 

En meer dan eens zegt hij : " Wat smaakt dat goed." 

Het blijde maal heeft uit. Met emstig wezen, 
Vormt heel 't gezin een wijden kring om 't vuur. 
De vader rijst en slaat in 't plechtig uur 

Den bijbel op, zijns vaders roem voordezen. 
Hij licht de muts eerbiedig af en toont 
't Eerwaardig hoofd met graauwend hair bekroond. 

Nu kiest hij ikn van Davids psalmgezangen 

Met oordeel uit om de eerdienst aan te vangen. 
Hij zegt : ** Aan God zij lof en dank gebracht ! " 
£n 't heilig lied klinkt statig in de nacht 

Nu wordt op nieuw het zware boek doorbladerd. 
Met eerbied en aartsvaderlijken klem 
Leest de oude man, hoe, op des Heeren stem 

In de ark 't gezin des vroomen werd vergaderd, 



238 BURNS IN DUTCH AND FLEMISH 

Hoe Abraham de vriend van God genoemd. 

Of Amalek ter straife werd gedoemd, 
Hoe Jesses zoon, aan booze zonde schuldig, 

Door diep berouw die zonde heeft geboet, 
Of wel hoe Job, in tegenspoed geduldig, 

Den Heer verhief als immer wijs en goed ; 
Of 't hemelsch lied van heil'gen Esaias, 
Dien wraakheraut en bode des Messias. 

Wellicht ook toont zijn text, in 't Nieuw Verbond, 
Hoe schuld'loos bloed de strafschuld moest verzoenen, 
Hoe de Opperheer van 's hemels legioenen 

Geen enkUe piek om 't hoofd te rusten vond. 
Hoe op deze aard Zijn jongeren verkeerden, 
En wijd en zijd de blijde boodschap leerden, 

Wat schouwspel 't oog van Patmos balling trof, 

Door 's Almachts wil ontheven aan dit stof, 
Of hoe de vloek hem vreeslijk dreunde in de ooren, 
Van 't droevig wee aan Babylon beschoren. 

Nu knielen zij : en, tot den Hemelheer, 
Opdat Zijn hulp het huisgezin beveilige, 
Bidt de echtgenoot, de vader en de heilige, 

Van hoop vervuld, dat ze eens, in hooger sfeer, 
Op de eigen wijs elkander wedervinden, 
Waar de eigen band hen vaster zaam zal binden, 

En waar, vereend tot eindeloos genot, 

Zij 't heilig lied, tot lof van hunnen God, 
Met heel het koor der zaal'ge hemellingen, 
Eeuw uit, eeuw in, aanleiddend zullen zingen. 

En nu gaat elk zijn eigen weg in vred : 
Men zoekt de rust : geen leed zal die verhind'ren \ 

Maar 't oud'renpaar zendt rog een stille bed 
Ten hemel op voor 't welzijn van hun kind'ren : 

Gerust dat Hij, wiens zorg de raven spijst, 
Die 't blank gewaad der lelie heeft geweven, 

Die 't menschdom door beproeving onderwijst, 
Hun en hun kroost het daaglijksch brood zal geven. 

Hen hoeden in 't gevaar ; maar bovenal 

Hen Zijn genad deelachtig maken zaL 



'TT*S**tr>5^<*" 



MY NANNIE, O 239 



DE SCHADUW DEKT DER HEUJTLEN KRUIN, 

J. Van Lennep. 

De schaduw dekt der heuv^en kruin, 

En zelfs den top der linde : 
De winterzon dook achter 't duin, 

£n ik ga naar Selinde. 

't Is duister en de wind blaast fel ; 

Doch ik weet in den blinde 
Den weg langs bosch en bergen wel, 

Den weg naar mijn Selinde. 

Selinde is lieflijk, minzaam, jong, 

£n vlug gelijk een hinde. 
Verstijf 's verleiders gladde tong, 

Die schertste met Selinde ! 

Bevallig, zonder erg of list, 

En trouw is mijn beminde : 
Geen boterbloem, van dauw verfrischt, 

Is reiner dan Selinde. 

Een veldknaap ben ik en niet meer, 

Die geen beschermers vinde ; 
Maar 'k lach om gunst van Vorst of Heer ; 

Ic Ben welkom bij Selinde. 

Ik leef van 't geen mijn werk mij biedt : 

Nooit had ik voile spinde ; 
Maar ik ben even wel te vred, 

Ik slaagde bij Selinde. 

't Loop med, 't loop tegen, heil of druk, 

Ik neem bet als ik 't vinde ; 
Want Ic weet op aard slechts een geluk, 

Te leven met Selinde. 



BURNS Ilf DUTCH AND FLEMISH 



NIEMAND. 
J. Van Lennep. 

Mijn wijfje is mij trouw, 

Ik dee) haar met niemand : 
Ik Inis niemands vrouw 

En mijn vrouw kust niemand. 
'k Heb daaglijks mijn brood 

En dank daarvoor niemand : 
"k Vraag nooit iets uit nood, 

En leen ook aan niemand. 
Ik ben niemands heer 

£n dienstknecht van niemand : 
Tc Heb t' huis mijn geweer 

En vrees ook voor niemand. 
Ik stel mij noch blij 

Nocb droef aan vi>or iemand : 
Geeft n emand om mij, 

Ik geef ook om niemand. 

Mr. H. ToUens has translated three or four of the 
smaller pieces, but they do not call for any special 
criticism. 1 give 

SBantitnnii SSillic 
as a specimen of his work, none of the pieces adopted 
in my task having been selected by him. 

ZWERVBNDE WIM. 
H. TOLLKNS. 

Hier niet en daar niet ! Waar stiert gij den Steven, 
Zwervende Wim I ik roep altoos om niet ! 

Kom aan miJR boezem, gij lust van mijn leven ! 
Keer zoo getrouw als gij laatst mij verUet 



WANDERING WILLIE 

k Heb u met schrik door de baren zien stuiven : 
Ruw blies de winter uw kiel naar de kim ; 

'k Dacht met natuur nu bet welkom te wuiven, 
Zij aan den zomer en ik aan mijn Wim. 

Huilende stormen ! ligt stil in de toomen ; 

Kleurt mij den bemel niet treurig en zwart 
Lispelt, gij koeltjes ! en kabbelt, gij stroomen ! 

Rolt uit uw schoot weer mijn Wim aan mijn hart 

Maar had hij trouwioos zijn Nanni vergeten, 
Houdt, holle zeeen I hem ver van mij af : 

'k Wil van zijn schuld en zijn meineed niet weten ; 
'k Necm mijn geloof aan zijn trouw mefi in 't graf. 



241 



AFRICAN DUTCH. 

In a collection of fifty selected poems in African Dutch,^ 
made by Mr. F. W. Reitz, President of the Orange Free 
State, published 1888, there are three pieces from Bums. 
As they do not profess to be complete or literal trans- 
lations, it would serve no good purpose to examine 
them critically at any length, but I reproduce them here 
as a matter of interest and curiosity. The language is 
nearly similar to what was spoken by the peasants in 
Holland two centuries ago. The first is from 

A number of the best verses are omitted, but the story 
is told pleasantly and simply. 

SATERDAY-AANT IN W BOEREWONING, 

Dis somer, en die oestijd die is daar, 
Nog warmer dage kom nou skielik aan ; 
Die week sijn werk, die het hul eindlik klaar 
En meer as een keer, met na huis toe gaan 
Seg iedereen : " Nou lean ons m6rre rus, 
" Die sekels weg, en alles is op sij ; 
" Dan snij ons Maandag weer met nuwe lus, 
"Die volk en Kleinbaas langs diciclfde rij." 



^ ^iift^S Uitgesogte Afrikaame Gedigte^ versameld deur F. W. 
Reitz, Hoofrcgter in d'Oranje Vrijstaat 

242 



' '^.'.'^m:ii\ * ^ — 



THE COTTAR'S SATURDAY NIGHT 

Soos vader tuis kom loop die kleintjies bij, 
En maak lawaai totdat sijn ore dreun, 
£n moeder soen die ou nes hul nog vrij, 
'^Naant va'er, naant moeder," seg die ondste seun, 
" Naant va'er, naant moeder," met 'n fijner stem, 
Volg oek die kleintjies. Op die ou sijn skoot 
Daar leg en speul die jongste kind met hem, 
En al sijn sorg verdwijn, en al sijn nood. 

Die broers en susters sit rondom opsij, 
Elk wil die ander met iets nuuts verstom ; 
Die tijd die vlieg so ongemerk verbij, 
Totdat op laas die Voet-wasbalie kom ; 
Die ouwers sit, bekijk die kinders veel, 
En wens dat alles goeds in hul mag blijk. 
Die moeder lap en maak ou klere heel, 
Dis wonderlik hoe nuut en mooi dit lijk. 

Die honde blaf, daar klop een an die deur, 
Elsie weet goed wie of dit is wat klop ; 
Sij bloos met eens, en Maatjie siet haar kleur, 
" Wie is die jonkman ? " seg sij toen daarop, 
Toen hij ver Oom, ver Tante en Niggie groet 
Moeder was blij ; hij was gen wilde klant, 
Mar reg geskik. Toen Elsie hom ontmoet 
Was sij so skaam, knap geef sij hom die hant, 
Verblijt dat hul haar vrijer goed ontvang. 

Die Ou gesels oer perde, skaap' en vee, 
Die kereltjie is nou gen stuk meer bang ; 
Die Opsit 's maatjie oek tevrede mee. 
Dis waar geluk, seg ek ; ja glo ver mij 1 
Ek het die wereld ver en wijd deurkruis, 
Mar waar jij sulke reine vrijers krij, 
Daar is nog seker balsem in sodn huis. 

Is daar 'n mens, 'n siel so diep verlaag, 
Hij word vervloek die so sijn God vermei 
En die met valse slinkse streke waag 
Soo'n liewe kind as Elsie te verlei. 



243 



244 



BURNS IN AFRICAN DUTCH 

Die oordeel volg, en d 'ewig jammerpoel I 

Is Godsdiens, deug, en skaamte so op 'n ent? 

Het hij gen stuk gewete, gen gevoel 

Ver 'n ouwers hart en ver hul kinds ellend? 

Sul dek nou tafel, daar word opgedis 

Rijs, kerrie, kluitjies, en wit brood 

En hotter waar die vrou op trotsig is, 

'n Kom vol melk. " Help maar jouself, neef Koot" 

Wat g6 Koot om al was dit koek of tert, 

Hij kijk meer na sijn Elsie as na KOS. 

Haar lie we oogies is horn meerder werd, 

Sij lijk so fraai, en tog nie uitgedos. 

Die maaltijd 's klaar, sit iedereen nou aan 

Die vader nes 'n Patriarg — hij vat 

Die Bijbel waar die doopregisters staan, 

Die selfde Boek, wat al sijn voorouers had ; 

Sijn breerand hoed eerbiedig afgehaal 

(Sijn baart die is al grijs, sijn hare ijl,) 

Hij lees 'n Sions lied in d' ouwe taal ; 

" Laat ons God dienen— Hem sij eeuwig heil." 

Hul sing die lied eenvoudig maar met gees 
Met hart en stem — die beste reinsie taal, 
En hoor andagtig as die ou man lees 
Hoe Abraham Gods vrind was hecltemaal, 
Hoe Moses oek ver Amelek het lat vlug 
En sijn geslag verniel het uit hul land. 
Of hoe die Koning-Digter het gesug 
Onder Gods toorn en kastijdend hand ; 

Die ramp van Job, sijn voorspoed en geduld, 

Of uit Jesaia, die beroemd profeet. 

Dan oek misskien van Hom wat mense skuld 

Gedra het an die Kruis met bloedrig sweet. 

Hoe Hij die hier gen rusplaas had op aard, 

Daar Bowe tog die twede naam besit ; 

So kniel hul voor Gods troon. Stil en bedaard 

Spreek toen die Gristen-vader, en hij bid : 



=_» _- ■ -— . 



THE COTTAR'S SATURDAY NIGHT 245 

"Dat Hij, wat selfs die vooltjies wil behoed 
"£n wat met prag die lelies kan beklee, 
Sijn wijse raad, so nuttig en so goed 
An huUe nakroos altijd oek mag gee ! 
Op segepralende vleuels rijs die wens 
Dat almal eens hiemamaals tog mag staan 
Voor God en voor Sijn Seun, die broedermens 
Om daar te ruste sender sonde of traan." 

Hoe nietig is hierbij die Priester-praal 
Met siersels wat die Opperwese tart, 
Waar mense in groote skare menigmaal 
An God 'n diens betoon, nie uit die hart ; 
Hij sal in toorn die huiglaars oek verjaa, 
Terwijl uit so 'n stille needrig hoek, • 
Hoor hij die reine sieletaal met welbehaa 
£n skrijf dit in Sijn ewig lewensboek. 

The second is from 

^am 0' <§kanter. 

He entitles it "Klaas geswint en sijn P^rt."^ It is a mere 
outline of Burns's famous poem, and is the weakest of the 
three efforts. Here, for example, 

" Die drank is tog 'n snaakse goed ; 
Hij %€ die bangste kirel moed. « 

Al is 'n Hotnot nog so olik, 
£en sopie maak horn net nou vrolik; 
Steek hij maar net 'n dop of drie, 
Dan stuit hij ver g^n duiwel nie,"* 

^ The smart Nicholas and his Horse. 

^ Drink is really a droll stuff; 
It gives the greatest coward courage. 
A Hottentot may be ever so mischievous, 
A drink makes him jolly ; 
If he has taken about three glasses. 
Then he never fears the devil. 



246 BURNS IN AFRICAN DUTCH 

is offered as the translation of 

" Inspiring, bold John Barleycorn ! 
What dangers thou canst make us scorn I 
Wi' tippenny, we fear nae evil ; 
Wi' usquebae, we'll face the devil 1 " 

ICLAAS GESWINT EN S//N PERT. 

As jij miskien nog, met jou maat, 
Bd in die dorp sit lag en praat, 
Vergeet jij, jij moet huis toe gaan, 
Anders sal Elsie ver jou slaan ; 
Sij sit al bij die vuur en brom 
"Ek krij horn soo*s hij huis-toe kom." 

Jammer dat mans so selde hoor 
As huUe vrouens, ver huV knor ; 
Dit is maar so — hul' kan maar praat, 
Ons luister tog nie na hul' raad. 
Dat dit so is, het Klaas Geswint 
Een donker nag oek uitgevind ; 
Hij *t leelik in die knijp geraak 
Toen hij terug rij van die Braak. 

Had Klaas geluister na sijn vrou 
Dan had dit hom nog nooit berou, 
G^n dag gaat om of sij vertel hem 
" Mar Klaas jij is tog alte skellem, 
" Nog nooit is jij van huis gewees 
" Of jij gedrai jou nes 'n bees, 
"En loop Koos Tities met jou med, 
" Dan gaat dit woes met julle twee." 

E6n aint, in plaas van huis toe gaan, 
Blij Klaas nog in die dorp in staan. 
" Nou ! moet Jul mij 'n slag trakteer : — 
Kom, kerels, gooi mar nog een keer." 
Hul g6 00m Klaas oek nog een dop, 
Toen was hij net mooi hoenderkop. 



TAM 0' SHANTEB 

Nou skeel dit niks, at wort dit nag, 
Hij blij mar daar gesels en lag ; 
As Klaasie eers begin te slinger, 
Dan kan jij glo, bij sal mallinger 

Plesier is nes 'n jong komkommer. 
As jij horn pluk, verlep hij sommer ; 
Of nes 'n skulpad in sijn dop in, 
Soos jij hom vat, dan trtk hij kop in. 

As Klaas van na&nt sijn buis wil baal, 
Dan wort dit cijd om op te saal. 
So klim hij "Kol" mar sanies op, 
En dnik sijn hoet vas op sijn kop, 

t'N fluksc merrie was ou Kol, 
Al was haar mg 'n bietjie hoi ;) 
Eers fluit die ou— want hij was bang — 
Die neen-en-neentigstc gesang, 
Dan kijk hij weer 'n slaggie om 
Of daar miskien g^n spook ankom. 
Voor hij van naint sijn huis kan krij, 
Moel hij die kerkhof nc^ verbij. 

Die drank is tog 'n snaakse goed ; 
Hij g£ die bangste k^rel moed. 
Al is 'n Hotnot nog so olik, 
Een sopie maak hom net nou vrolik ; 
Steek bij maar net 'n dop of drie, 
Dan stuil hij ver g6n duiwel nie. 

Mat Klaas bet daarom naar gelijk, 

Toen hij daar in die kerkhof kijk; 

Sijn bloed het wonderlik gekook, 

Toen hij gewaar hoe dit daar spook. 

Daar speul die duiwel op 'n tromp, 

Ver veertig spoke in *n klomp ; 

Hul dans daar rond, dat dit so gons, 

GSn ouderwetsc coliiljons. 

Maar eers "Alexander Klip Salmander" 

Trap hulle algaar met malkander, 



248 BURNS IN AFRICAN DUTCH 

Tocn was dit weer die "honde krap," 
Tot dat die sweet so van hul tap. 

Die goed was bijna poedel kaal, 
En kijk die vrouens was te skraal, 
Mar een daarvan, 'n bietjie dikker, 
Maak so 'n uitgehaalde dikker, 
Dat Klaas plaas van sijn bek te hou, 
Skr^ " Arrie ! dit was fluks van jou.*' 

Soos hy dit s^, toe moet hij ja, 
Die heel boel set horn agterna ; 
** Kol, loop nou dat die stof so staan, 
Anders is Klaas vannaant gedaan ; 
Kom jij mar net die drif verbij, 
Dan dalkies raak jou baas nog vrij ; 
Een spook is nes 'n bok-kapater, 
Hij loop nie sommar in die water. 

Toe, Kol, die duiwel snij jou spoor." 
Hier leg die drif; "^/Vr//" sij's daaro'cr. 
Haar stert het hul glad uitgeruk ; 
Mar Klaas is los, dis 66n geluk. 

Ver die wat lus het om te draai, 
Wil ek mar net ^^n woortjie raai : 
Gedenk aan Klaas Geswint sijn p6rt. 
En vraag jou selve : waar 's haar stert ? 

And the third is 

This is really a good and faithful rendering, and much 
the best of the three pieces. 

DAANTIE GOUIVS. 

Daantjie kom hier om te vrij, 

Ja, met vrijers gaat dit soo ; 
Sondagsadnts het hij v^r moet rij, 

Ja, met vrijers gaat dit soo. 



DUNCAN GRA Y 

Martjie steek haar kop in die luch, 
Kijk soo skeef en trek lerug, 
Sit ver Daantjie glat op vlug ; 
Ja, met vrijers gaat dit soo. 

Daantjie smeek en Daantjie bid, 
Martjie's doof en blij maar sit ; 

J a, met vrijers gaat dit soo. 
Daantjie such vir ure lang, 
V^ die trane van sijn wang, 
Praat van hetnselve op te hang ; 

Ja, met vrijers gaat dit soo. 

Die tijd vcrsach maar ons gevoel 
Verachte liefde word ook koel ; 

Ja, met vrijers gaat dit soo. 
"Sal ik," seg hij, "nets een gek, 
"Om een laffe meisie vrekf 
"Sij kan naar die boenders trek", 

Ja, met vrijers gaat dit soa 

Hoe dit kom lat dokters vertel, 
Martjie word siek en hij word wel ; 

Ja, met vrijers gaat dit soo. 
Daar 's iets wat an haar borsie knaa, 
En bartjie-seer begin haar plaa, 
Haar oogies glinster ook mar braa ; 

Ja, met vrijers gaat dit soo, 

Daantjie was een sachte man, 
En Marijie trek haar dit soo an ; 

Ja, met vrijers gaat dit soo, 
Daantjie krij jammer in sijn hart, 
De liefde groei weer an sijn part 
Nou leef sulle same sonder smart ; 

Ja, met vrijers gaat dit soo. 



FRISIAN. 

There is no published translation of any of Bums's 
works in this old and expressive dialect, but Mr. M. 
Miedema, of Rauwerd, Province of Friesland, Holland, 
has very courteously translated two pieces specially for 
this book. Under such circumstances any severe criticism 
would be out of place, though this Frisian version of 
the first song can challenge it Of this first piece, 

John ^nicrson, mv Jfo, 

one line, indeed, 

" Do 't ik Jy joech myn hert,"^ 

is the same rendering as given by Potgieter, and like 

it, also misses the coziness and expressiveness which the 

original, 

" When we were first acquent," 

conveys ; and in the line, 

"Do wie Jy hier sa swart as roet,"* 

^ When I gave you my heart. 

-Then wa«4 your hair as black as soot. 

250 



JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO 251 

Mr. Miedema's muse has nodded in so rendering 

" Your locks were like the raven," 

but the other lines are given with considerable fidelity 
and grace, the well-known line, 

" But hand in hand we'll go," 
being rendered with peculiar pathos, 

" Dochs klamm' w* lis oan en-oar."^ 
The song reads in Frisian — 

SJOERD FRIEZEMA, MY LJEAF, 

Sjoerd Friezema, ho Ijeaf hie 'k Jo, 

Do 't ik Jy joech myn hert ; 
Do wie Jy hier sa swart as roet, 

Jy foarholle sa glM ; 
Mar nou 't Jy troanje Aldsk wirdt, Sjoerd, 

Jy hier sa wyt as snie ; 
Nou Ijeavje ik Jo yette mear, 

Myn Sjoerd, myn ried-en die. 

Sjoerd Friezema, sa djierber my, 

Do 't wy de berg bikleauw'n ; 
En manage blide en fleur'ge dei, 

Mei swiet-en sfir fordreauw'n ; 
Mar skien 't it nou berg del giet, Sjoerd, 

Dochs klamm* w* ds oan en-oar; 
En slomje strak d^r oan de foet, 
' Myn Sjoerd, swiet neist elkoar. 

The second piece, 

^ JHan'0 a JRaii for a' that, 

compares most unfavourably with the first; indeed, it 
cannot be called a translation, but rather an imitation, 

^ Still we cling to each other. 



252 



BURNS IN FRISIAN 



and even as an imitation it is not very forcible. The 
first verse is sufficient to quote in order to show this : — 

" Dyt earlik earm * in skande ' neamt, 

Dy handelt tige dom. 
Mar 'n slaef is Hy, dy 't biigt for goud, 

Priis stelt op wrildske rom ; 
Wy achtsje heger, Him, de man, 

Mei 'n edel, gouden hart ; 
Hwant rang-en stimpel is mar foarm I 

Mar 'n earlik herte net"^ 

which is given for 

"Is there, for honest poverty, 

That hangs his head, and a' that? 
The coward-slave, we pass him by, 
We dare be poor for a* that, 
For a* that, and a' that, 

Our toils obscure, and a' that; ' 
The rank is but the guinea stamp; 
The man's the gowd for a* that." 

The last verse is perhaps a little better, and I give the 
whole song as a curiosity. 

EARLIKE EARMOED, 

Dyt earlik earm "in skande" neamt, 

Dy handelt tige dom. 
Mar 'n slaef is Hy, dy 't bfigt for goud, 

Priis stelt op wrdldske rom ; 

^Ile who calls honest poverty a shame 
Acts very stupidly, 
But a slave is he who bows to gold, 
Appreciates worldly glory ; 
We more esteem, him, the man 
With a noble, golden heart ; 
The rank and stamp are but form, 
But not an honest heart. 



A MAN'S A MAN FOR A* THAT 

Wy achtsje heger, Him, de man, 

Mei 'n edel, gouden hert ; 
Hwant rang-en stimpel is mar foann! 

Mar 'n earlik herte net. 

Al is us miel ek noch sa skriel, 

Us baitsje noch sa keal ; 
In earlik 4)erte dat is ryk, 

Is m' earm allyk in Sweal. 
Klaei dwazen yn forwiel, en jow 

Hjarr'n mar de fynste wyn, 
En foerje hjarr'n mei swietekou, 

Hjar rykdom is mar skyn. 

Sj^n d^r dy kwast ut 'n did geslacht, 

Hy sit oeral mei yn, 
Hy baeit Him yn syn rykdom, en 

Hy slacht in hopen wyn ; 
Mar Och, syn harsens fetsje net, 

Dat al dat swiid gejei 
Net opweacht tsjin in edel hert, 

Yn 'n bidler oan 'e wei. 

In Kening jout rju ampten wei, 

Biklaeit mei ear-en rom, 
Slacht Ridder en skonk mannichien 

It Hege adeldom. 
Mar al dat oansjen, al dy macht, 

Is oan in damp gelyk; 
't Fordwynt as reek for 'n twirke, by 

In hert oan deugden ryk. 

Lit us den hoopje op de tiid, 

Dat alle skyn forfljQcht, 
En dat it wiere Adeldom, 

De ierde-en folken rjiicht' ; 
J a, mei de dei hast daegje, dat 

Gjin rang noch stimpel bynt ; 
Mar alle folken, op de wrdld, 

As broerr*n forien'ge fynt 



253 



BOHEMIAN OR CZECH. 

I NOW come to the translation into the Bohemian or Czech 
language by Mr. Jos. v. Slddek.^ 

The short preface to his work is sufficient to show how 
thoroughly the translator appreciates the charm and spirit 
of the poems he translates. After giving a short sketch 
of the poet's life, he reviews the character of his poems 
in a masterly and loving spirit. The following extracts will 
serve the double purpose of showing how thoroughly he 
is at home with his subject, and of serving as a reason 
why I have not found it necessary or even justifiable to 
criticise his excellent renderings at any great length. 

"... In him his fatherland found the Singer of 
Freedom. In him Man revealed himself in the fullest 
power of Manhood, which felt responsible, and wished to 
be responsible, only to himself and to his Creator for his 
thoughts, his aspirations, and actions."' 

"... Although he never set foot across the 

* Robert Bums : vybor z Pisni a Ballad^ pf eloXil Jos. V. 
Slddek. Nakladatelstvf, J. Otto, Knihtiskdma, v Praze. 

*"V nSm naSla jeho vlast p^vce svobody, v nSm ozval se 
^lov^k V cel^ sfle muine povahy, zodpovSdny ze svych mySl^nek, 
skutkA a snah pouze sob6 a svdmu Bohu." 

254 




^_ /:/% 



INTRODUCTION 255 

border of his native land, he swept in spirit through the 
universe He sang about and for those amongst wliom 
he Uved as one of them, but also as one who had seen 
deep into their hearts. 

"With the penetrating power of a spiritual observation, 
of which they never dreamed, he gave expression to their 
aspirations, fonn to their dreams, and gave a language to 
their joys and also to their sorrows, which still to-day, 
after more than a hundred years, has lost nothing of its 
magic, of its freshness, or of its compelling power; for it 
is the echo and expression of the penetrating feeling of 
the human heart. And therefore is it that the songs of 
Bums, since their appearance, have resounded through 
all Scotland — on her fields, in her towns and villages, as 
welt as in her cottages and palaces ; they are sung by old 
and young, and the name of Burns is the key with which 
to open every Scottish heart 

"Like a mountain spring his poetry bubbles forth, 
refreshing every wayfarer in this age as it did in the 
times gone by. In Burns's poems the love songs reveal 
themselves the most conspicuously at the first, but it is 
not through these erotic melodies that he became the 
darting of his people. His love of truth, his manliness, 
his love of freedom, are the foundation pillars upon which 
(being also native to the Scottish nation) is built by that 
nation a monument of love and veneration in every 
feeling heart. And, even if the whole inhabitants of 
Scotland disappeared from the earth, and only the works 
of Bums remained, this nation would for ever live; for 
every power of the soul, every special movement, every 
aspiration of theirs are interwoven in his poetry. . ■ ."^ 

' " Zpfval o tScb a za ty, meii nimii ill jako jeden 1 nich, ale 



256 BURNS IN BOHEMIAN OR CZECH 

Mr. Slddek translates sixty poems in all, and has been 
most judicious in his selection. 



Here the first verse is omitted; otherwise the poem is 
beautifully rendered. A few, but very few, liberties, are 
taken with the imagery, and these never important. •* In 
youthful bloom" is rendered "A birch in May," and 
** This weary mortal round " reads ** The blossom and dust 
of human ways." 

SVATVECER, 

Dech listopadu mrazn^ zadul v luh, 
den smrdkd se^nad zoranymi liny, 

spfeS ubrocena» odstaven je pluh, 
a V hejnech na noc odl^tajl vrdny. 

tak^ jako n^kdo, jen2 dfvd se do hlubin jejich srdcf s pronika- 
vostf badatele a s vy§e, o nil nikdo z nich nem^l tuSenf. 
Vyslovil touhy jejich, dal tvar jejich mlhovitym mySl^nkim a 
a srdci jejich v smutku i jdsotu fe£, kterd dnes, po stu rokO 
neztratila ni^eho na sv^ horoucnosti, sile a svSXesti, nebot* jest 
pFirozen^'m hlasem srdce lidsk^ho. Po cel^ stoletf ozyvajl se 
p(sn§ Burnsovy Skotskem. Na polfch, na statcfch, v chatr^fch 
i zimcfch zpfvajf je sta?{ i mladf, a jm^no Burnsovo jest klf<5, 
kterym se otevfe snad ka2d^ srdce Skotsk^. Jako horsky pra- 
men proudf jeho poesie a osv62uje stejn^ poutnfka dneSnfho 
jako toho, jeni tudy §el pfed vSkem. 

" V bdsnfch Burnsovych na prvnl pohled oz^vd se nejzvuin^ji 
poesie Idsky, ale ne svymi pfsn^mi erotick^mi stal se mild^kem 
sv^ho lidu. Opravdovost, muXnost a Idska k svobod^ jsou 
zdkladnfmi rysy povahy Skotsk^ho ndroda, a Burns jest proto- 
typem tSchto vlastnostf. Kdyby cely Skotsky ndrod zmizel s 
povrchu zemS a zOstaly jen bdsn^ Burnsovy, 2il by v nich jeho 
lid V cel^ sfle duSe sv^ v kaid^m hnutl sv^ho iitf a bytf." 



THE COTTAFtS SATURDAY NIGHT 

Jde ari-i, ddy pracf uondfiny : 
dnes vefer t£iky tyden ukonJ^n ; 

Tjt sbfrd, motyky a skUdi brdoy 
a V oddcch doufi na zejtfejSf den 

a domQ sktinou se vrad unaven. 

Tarn kond^nS svou vid( ch^iku sUt 

od koSat^bo stromu lasttDSnou, 
malifk^ robil batoU se i vrat 

a jini s jdsotem se vstHc mu lenou. 
Ten mil;? koutek s jiibou vybflenou, 

krb £isty, ieny dsmSv ronnil]?, 
to iveholfct dScko na kolenou 

hoed vSecky jebo strasti Tozpt;?lf ; 
a klopot zapomn^ i trampot za chvfli. 

Ted' starSf dCtky, jedjo po dtuh^m, 

se vracf domtl ; po okolnfm kraji 
ten pase, drub;? cbodf la pluhem 

a jinde do mfsta je posylajf. 
Jich, nadfje, jich Jenny, bflzka v mdji, 

dorostli panna, — Idsku plipolat 
ii vidJt V iraku, — -nCN^ v polotaji 

$at ukazuje, nebo tydne plat 
svym divd rodi£flm, pro chvfli nouie snad. 

Jest nelff enj radost v licfch vSech 

a bratfi, sescry laskav! se idravf, 
ub(hi veiJer, co kde kterj? slech' 

neb vidSl, tCm zas nynf druh6 bavf, 
a rodiid jen pohled usmfvavjF 

T^st V kaid^ vidl jinou nadSjL 
U krbu matka lije bez dnavy, 

by star? Sat las koukal noviji, 
a V tvdfi otcovS se vSickni shlffejL 

On napomini, aby pint sv^Fch 
a panE rozkaifl vidy poslouchali, 

a i kdyi sami jsou, ni na polfcb, 
ni V jiibC, v stiji nice nesklidali ; 



258 BURNS IN BOHEMIAN OH CZECH 

a pfedevSfm by Hospodina dbali 
a nejv^S kladli povinnost a ^est, 

V zl^ pokuSenf nikdy nepadali 

vSech bo2(ch rad vidy dbajfce a cest, 
neb t^m, kdo hledajf, 2e Pdn v2dy bllzk^ jest 

Fed' nSkdo klepd !— kdo by to byt raoh', 

vf Jenny hned a pravf bez rozpaki^, 
jda se vzkazem, 2e sousedtliv dnes hoch 

ji provodil a2 domO za soumraku. 
Cte matka v jejlra zaplanuvSim zraku 

a v§e j( prozrazuje v Ifci nach, 
i tlzkostliv^ ptd se po jundku ; — 

dcef jm^no Fekne, s matky padd strach, 
2e hlavu nepoplet' j( HAxij v^troplach. 

Jej chvdtd Jenny vlfdnf uvftat, 

hoch jako Ifpa, matc^in zrak jej stfe2{, 
jest Jenny St'astna, 2e je vid6n rdd ; — 

o kravdch mluvf otec, pluhu, spfeSi, 
•hoch radost v srdci udriuje s t^2(, 

le^ zara2en je, nevf kam, ni jak, 
vSak matka, — 2ena, — hned vf, ot tu b52f, 

pro^ wHtv} tak ten hoch a klopf zrak, 
a t£§f se, jich rod 2e vSude v^en tak. 

6 StSstf Idsky, jako zde, kde jest ! 

6 bla2enosti, jak^ rovno nenf ! 
jd chodil kv^tem, prachem lidskych cest 

a ze vSeho mi zbylo nau^enf : 
nebe-li dalo na t^ pouti denn( 

sflfcl douSek v slzav^ ten dot, 
to2 pijou jej, kdyi v lisky rozechvSnf 

dv£ mlad^ du§e radost svou i bol 
si sdflf pod hlohem, jfmS ve(^er vonf koL 

V podob^ lidsk^ kde je srdce, cit, — 
zda2 bfdnfk Idsce, pravd^ odcizeny, 

jen2 moh' by Istf a ndstrahami chtft 
nevinnou mladost zradit sli^n^ Jenny? 



THE COTTAieS SATURDAY NIGHT j 

Bud' klet V sv]/ch l^£kich svddce zakukleo^ 1 
Talc svfdomf-li, cti a ctnosti prost, 

le soustrast nemi, kvftek pokosenjF 
kdyl cbfadne, rodifUm jenl k l££e rost' 

a d{vka ubobi se vrhi v zoufalost 

V^k nynf ve&fet se zaEfnd \ — 

to iivny porritcb, prvnf z fkotskri stravy; 
a ml^o dala kravka jedind, 

jei la pHsifinkem vonntf Iv^ki trSvy ; 
pak hospodyn£ na hostovo zdravf 

pKndif sfi, jenl dobfe uSetfen \ 
poblzt bocba, on, le dobr?, pravf, 

hovom^ iena pfikyvuje jen 
a dt, ie syr byl stir u£ rok, kdylE kvetl lea 

Pak u ohniStS v kruhu usedli 

a kald^ vdiEn^ na otce se dfval ; 
po listu list obracel lahnfdl^, 

to V bibli, na nil dikl tak py£en b^val; 
i klobouk sjal a na skrdng mu spl^val 

jui proHdl}^ a ziediv^iy vlas, 
i volil Xalm, jenl na Zionu infvaJ, 

a pro sebe jej <^tl zas a zas, 
pak " Hospodina chval l" fek' viinj? jeho bias. 

Jich prosty ^piv tak ibc^nS laznfvd, 

jich srdce k nejvySSfmu naladina, 
tu " Dundee," zaznl pfsefi ohnivi, 

neb " Mu£enn[ci," bodnf tobo jm^na, 
neb " Elgin," hymna vclki, povzneiend, 

la nejslad£[ ze £kotskycb hymen vSecb. 
Ty 5ly$fs-li, jak maid zdd se cena 

lahodnycb, prJUdn^ch jiinfch zpSvQ tScb, 
jel k TvCrci nenesou se zboinjicb na IdPtdlech. 

Posvitn^ strdnky kneisk^ otec fet*, 
jak milov^ byl Abram velkym Bohem, 

jak Mojifi vilku s beib(rf!n;?mi vcd', 
i Amaleck^ srazil v boji mnob^m; 



26o BURNS IN BOHEMIAN OR CZECH 

neb on, jen2 krdlovskyra pSl Xalmy slohem, 
jak pro sv^ hHchy mdlem upad' v zmar, 

neb o Jobovi ^etl pfeubohdm, — 
pak z Isaia, v n£m2 jest nebes 2ir, 

a z v^StcO p^mnohych, }\1 zpSvu mSIi dar. 

Snad Novy zdkon ^et*, krev nevinnd 

jak prolita za hH§n^ lidsk^ davy, 
jak On, jej2 v nebi Bt!ih m61 za syna, 

na zemi nemSl, kara by sloiil hlavy, 
jak u^ennfci po n£m obce sprdvy 

se ujali a psali v mnohou zem, 
jak na Pathrau se and61 piny sldvy 

objevil tomu, jeni byl mild^kera, 
i spatHl Babylon, jak padd v pychu svem. 

Pak zboSnS kleknuv, Nebes ku krdli 

se rnodH svStec, otec, man2el vFele: 
jak nadSj' vft6z, vzl^td do ddli, 

2e po t^ 2itf pouti osam^le 
se op^t sejdou v rajsk^ zdfi skv^l^, 

kde horkych slz u2 nenf, ani sten ; — 
tarn chvdliti 2e budou StvoHtele 

ve sboru tSch, jimi sldvy svitne den, 
a ^s 2e pAjde ddl u2 jimi netuSen. — 

S tfm porovndn, jak chudy v^r je Hd 

V sv6 nddhefe a um^lostech, pySe, 
kde £lov£k zboSnost jme se vyklddat 

a jenom srdce nepovznese vySe ! 
BAh nechce chrdm, jen2 od kadidla d^§e, 

ni kn£2skd roucha, ani skvostny ryt, 
vSak snad 2e n^kde z osam£l(S ch>^§e 

rdd usIySf bias pravy z du§e zn(t 
a V knihu 2ivota svQj chud}^ vp(§e lid. 

Pak obracf se kaSd]^ k domovu, 
hned na lo2e se drobot' odebfrd, 

vSak rodi^e se modlf poznovu 
a vroucn^ prosf Pdna vSehomfra, 



THE COTTAR'S SATURDAY NIGHT 

by On, jeniE hladn^ pti£e nepfezfrd 

a nddherni tak Satf point kvSt, 
i na nfi vzpomnSl, kdyi je nouze svfrf, 

a sim jak rdf[, na jich dfiky shied', 
vSak nejdffv milostf jim svatou srdce ved'. 

Hie, tak Skot starych velkost poiSata, 

k nim liska doma, v svjite £e$t se nini^ I 
jsout' jenom dechcm krilOv kntiata, 

mul poctiv^ je nejvyiSi tvoi tx^ I 
6 jistS, af jde k ctnostem drahou z hIo«, 

diyi stojf v^S nei palic velmoiny, — 
Co panskl nidliera a sldva, zboiC. 

kdyl kriSlf se jIm b(dik beibdEn^, 
jeni pcklu laprodal svQj iivot mitoin^f • 

6, .Skotie t md vlasti mileDi, 

la niH md nice nejvroucnij' jsou spjaty, 
k& syn tv^ch brdzd na vSkQv kolcna 

mA spokojenost, zdravf, poklid svat^ ! 
A nebesa \.€t chrdnC prost<! chaty 

od ndkaz, pfepycbu a ndstrah zl^cb ! — 
Pak at' se l^me korun vfnek ilatj', 

lid zvednc se, jeji neposkvmil hFfcta, 
jak hradba obnivi kol drah^ch prahA sv^cb ! 

6 Ty, jenl krev jsi vlasti odddnu 

lit proudem ftavym ve Wallace Jifly, 
jeni velK muidm felit tyranu, 

neb slavnS umMt, osud porau£t-li, 
Ty, Bole vern^cb vlasti, Boie sfly, 

Ty, vfldce, striice, ridcc, Stftc ndS 1 
6 neopust* sv£ Skotsko v tfik^ cbvlli, 

vidy bojovnflcu, p£vci vzejit kaiC, 
by vlasti na v£ky byl ozdoba i strdi I 



'Sam a' ^hanttr 
be is equally successful. He, indeed, also atumbles at 



j62 BURNS IN BOHEMIAN OR CZECH 

"Kirkton Jean," making it "Kirktonskym Johnym"; but 
the fact of 



given 



** But withered beldams, auld and droll, 
Rigwoodie hags, wad spean a foaV 

"VSak babky jako zvadly trs, 
im nevzalo by hHb£ prs,"^ 



being the least faithful rendering, is abundant evidence 
of the excellency of the translation of this versatile and 
difficult poem. 

TAAf a SIIANTER. 

KdyS I ulice se kramdf zved' 

a kmotr 2fzniv s kmotrem sed\ 

jak po trhu se pozdf den 

a domA jde wl ten i ten ; 

jak sedfme tu u korbele, 

]m1 nasdkH a §t'astn( cele, 

kdo2 dbdvd Skotsk^ch mflf t£ch 

a vod a ba2in, srdzA vSech, 

je2 od domova d^K nds, 

kde zlobnd 2ena, — vem to d*as, — 

Ifc vraStf jako mrdkava 

a hn^v SYd] topf do ihava ! 

To Tarn O' Shanter ctny znal vSru, 

kdy2 jednou v noci bral se z Ayru, 

(to star^ Ayr, nad m^sto jin^ 

jen2 muSQ ctf, d£v krdsou slyne). 

6 Tame I k^ byl's tentokrdt 
sv^ 2eny Kdty poslech' rad ! 
VXdyt* fekla ti, ie*s darmo§lap 
a bldboliv^, i^\if chlap, 



^ But old witches, dry as the bark of trees, 
At which a foal even would not suck. 



TAM a SHAlfTER 

jenlE do Hjna od listopadn 
dbal I mokii £tvrt£ kamaridA ; 
CO mletf, ndE by hlcdJ^l koSe, 
pil s mlyndfem, al nem£l grote ; 
le kdykoliv jsi klisnu koval, 

5 kov&fem chmdil's povykoval, 
ba % ned£le jste na pondilf 

B Kirktonsk;^m Johnym popljeli ; 
i vSiStila, ie pozdSj", spfS' 
se nSkde v Doodu utopS, 
neb tmou u chrdmu r AUoway 
sc V 6arod£jii vpleleS rej. 

6 dobrd ifnky ! jest mi iel, 
kdy{ pomyslfm, co pravidel 
2 moudry'cb rad a £ebo vice 
mulE nedbd od 5v^ polovke I 

Viak rid^j' dale.— V onu noc 
Tarn lasedl si pcvni moc 
loi u krbu, jen! praskal tnilo, 
a pivo dnes tak bolskd bylo ; 
$vec Johay sed' po jeho boku, 
drub stary, vSm^, pevny v loku ; 
jak bratra Tarn jej rid mil vfele. 
neb spolu pili t^dny cel£... 

I zpfvalo se, pilo dile 
a pivo bylo lepSl stile ; 
Tarn 9 hospodskou se k sobC mili, 
— lert tajny byl a sladk]Fi skvjl^, — 
5vec nejh«£( dnes pepfil klepy, 
snifch Senkyfilv byl velkolep<^ : 
at" boul^ venku bu£f pUnf, 
Tarn ani la mlk nedbal na ni. 

Strast, idvidfc jim, zoufanlivS 
se utipila sama v pivf 1 
Jak domil s medem letf v£e1y, 
tak minuty dil v slasli spSly ; 



BURNS IN BOHEMIAN OR CZECH 

kril vafsS b#t blalen, Tarn byl slavn^, 
nad sv£ta ily jak vft£i divn^ ! 

VSalc slast je v]£fch mSkd kvCt, 

jen dolkni se, list sprcboe hned ; 

jak sntb, kdyl padne do vin feky, 

mlik bfl^,— taje na vie v€ky ; 

lif na seven) t£kavd, 

ne£ ukdieS k n{, pFestivi ; 

neb oblouk duhy pFekrdsnd, 

jeni V prostfed boufc uhasne. — 

Cas, pHliv nelze udrfet ; 

jde hodina, Tarn musf jeL 

Noc Eeini byla jako smola 

3. pfRemd, kdyi kon£ void ; 

ba V takou noc, jak on ted' kluSe, 

nevyila nikdy hffSnd duie. 

Dul vftr jako pekla micb, 
dtie dout se vEtni na kNdlech, 
Svih bleskfl hltdn tetnna tQnl, 
hrom dlouze, duti hhnf a dunf : 
V tu noc, to mohlo dicko zniU, 
!e fert si bude price dbdt. 

Na v£m^ klisne, ied^ Meg, 
~xi lepSf nemSl iidn^ rek,— 
pfes kalul, bidto klusal Tam, 
at* d£Sf a vftr, hrom a pldm ; 
svflj modr^ Sirik pfidrfuje 
a starou pfseA poip£vuje ; 
v£ak ostraiit se ohlCtl, 
zda na nfm co se nepldf, 
neb k Allowayi bifie sp41, 
kde sov je moc a straSidel. 

Tim fasem brod jii pominul, 
kde kramjf v sn£hu zahynul, 
a shrbl^ bHiy, skaln^ scdi, 
kde ipity Charlie ilomil vaz, 



TAM Cf SHANTER 

a mohylu, v chrdst ukryt^ 

kde naSli tUcko laUtfe, 

a studnu, Mungova kde tdAH 

K povSsila na oprat^. 

Doon proudf plfed nlm jeden vol 

a V boufi huif Icsy v dUl, 

blesk poltf nebe kfH a kfS 

a hrom se valf bIGE a blO, 

kdyi, hie, skiz kvfln^ch stromd Fad 

chrim Allowayskj vidtt pUt ; 

CO puklina, jen hofet zdi se 

a rej a checht z n£j xoA&A sc 



Je£iii[Dku Jene, smil^ reku ! 

jak chiabrost budf! ve £lovSku ! 

Tvou iackou krev kdy v iiUch mjim^ 

ni z dibla si nic ned£1ime ! 

Tak Tarn, v n^ini hrd to vSemi Sfdly, 

dnes byl by pral se se straSidly, 

v£a,k Meg tu stdla hrdiou tknuta, 

al patou, nikou pobfdnuta 

se k pfedu, k sveUOm hnula pfec, 

a. hie, Tarn spatFil divnou v£c ! 

To farodijek divj? shon 

ide tanff, v£ak ne cotillion, 

le£ V krok a skok a hcj a rej 

se £ kaldou toff Earodfj ; 

na Hmse v oknS chlupalj 

siro 6dbel sedei rohat^, 

pes ferny, velk]?, v offah rud 

a z pekelD^cb jim braje dud ; 

I tfcb pfskd to a vffsk^l v chrdm, 

ie OtFds^ se kald^ trdm. — 

Kol rakve stlly jako skflaf, 

V nich mrtvf v nibdSfch a hlfnS, 

a kaidy, jak to d'jbel sved', 

mSl svfci V nice jako led. — 

Tam bohatyrsky v t^ zdfi, 

hie, vidf Idtet na olulH 



SU/im m BOHEMIAN OR CZECH 

vrabovu kostru, v poutu hnit, 
jak p(d' dvtf mal^cb nekftfinat, 
pak ilodfj tu je s provaiem 
a a umfrdnf vyrazem, 
p£t tomahawks treiav£l;fch, 
pSt me£a vraldou zkrvav€l]?ch, 
ddl podvazek, jeni dScko rdousil, 
a nOi, jeji syn na otce brousil, 
krk podFuav mu v sam^ vai, 
na stfence 5cdf visel vlas, 
ba hrQt tu je£t£ maobo zff se, 
jei! jmenovati neslulf se. — 

NiS Tarn jak bledSI, lasna, chtiv^, 
hluk rost* a imibal smfcb se div^, 
vFesk dud znfl bla^nSj' da t£ch vfav 
a rychlej', rychlej' kfepfil dav ; 
a tof[ se a bo<!I, bouH, 
al 1 kald^ho se leje, kouK, 
a V posled ciry sbodili 
a lanfili jen v koSiii 1 

6 Tame ! ted' to holky b#t 
tak buclai^ a do let j(t 
a mfslo Serky za koSile 
mCt plitynko tak sn£hobCl^,— 
sv^ spodky, a<5 jen jedny mim, 
a plyl kdys' cbv^il krejfff sdm, 
Je s t£la dat bycb dost byl slab^ 
la jeden pobled na ty fiby 1 

VSak babky jako zvadiy trs, 
le nevialo by hHb4 pre, 
a S berif, krokem skotafivym : — 
jd laludku se tv^mu divhn. 

VSak pi^ mil Tarn jen i pekla Stfotl : 
Hie, hezoui!k& tarn kdstka jesti, 
dnes ponejprv tu akotaf fc, 
(ji pozd£j' Cartick zndval vfc. 



TAM ff SHANTER 

neb uhranula mnoho krar 
a potopila lad( dav 
a posn^tila mnoho lit, 
tik ie se bit j( viechen lid) i 
koSilka hniba,— NknSm hned 
V nt chodila ui 2 dStsk^ch let, 
sic krdtki trochu, kaidy uznd, 
vSak lepSt nemi a je nuind. — 
Ach, ni^o dobri miti znala, 
kdy{ Nannince ji kupovala 
za dspory svi prdce chud^ 
ie s farod^ji tanfit bude ! 

Viak zde mi Musa couvi zpSt, 

nad jejt moc je tak^ let ; 

mk Nannie v pat^h oheA dud 

(ta sojka, mrStni jako prut) i 

Tam stojf jako kouzlem jat, 

Irak hiedl jako na poklad, 

sdm Saian Hilhd likosem 

a s boufliv^m hrd pathosem 

ai, — krQiek v pfed a knliek stranou, 

Tam itratil roium jednou ranou 

a vikfiknul: "Sliva, KoSiIko 1"— 

V milk ihaslo kaldi svftyiko, 

a sotva Meg mob' obrititi, 

ven pekelnj se smefka Nt[ 1 

Jak vyraif roj bnSvnj'ch vCel, 
kdyt k litu vpadne nepFitel, 
jak za kofkou pes pidf s psem, 
kdyi vyskoil jim pfed nosem, 
jak V trhu lid se roibfihne, 
kdyi "Chyt'te hoi" se roilehne, 
tak letl Meg a v paidcb za nl 
skfek £arod6jek tn( a Idnf 1 

Acii, Tame, Tame, ted' je chyba; 
ted' pe&n budei jako ryba 1 
Ul mam€ <^ekd Kita b^dn.-t, 
af vdovskt Saty sobi jednd I 



268 BURNS IN BOHEMIAN OR CZECH 

6 Maggie, cvdlej, h€l a let*, 
at* V prostFed mostu jsi u2 ted*, 
tarn zvednout mQ2e§ na nS chvost — 
p?es feku nesmf pekel host. 
VSak d?iv neX pfe§la ^drfl hrdz, 
sdm Ddbel hrdl j{ o ocas ; 
neb Nannie, vedouc ryk a skfek, 
ju3f V patdch by la Svam^ Meg 
a po Tamu se vztekle hnala, 
v§ak mdlo Megin oheii znala, 
jen skok a pdn ul spasen, sdm, 
vSak jej( §edy chvost ten tarn : 
svQj d*ablice si vzala dfl 
a Maggie sotva pah>'l zbyl. 

Ted*, pravdivy kdo ^te§ ten d6j, 
syn otce, matky, pozor dej, 
at* na sklenku si na chvilku, 
neb krdtkou myslfi ko§ilku, 
jak drahj^ iert je takovy, 
ber pffklad s klisny Tamovy. 



The 



and 



^bl)re60 to s JRimet 



^ JS;0untain gateg 



are literal and efifective, and need no comment though in 
the latter 

"Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flower,** 

is too difficult for Mr. SIddek, as it has been for all the 
other translators; so he gives it — 



"Ty nSinj^ kvltku rudobfl^. 



', " 1 



^Thou tender flowret, red and white. 



ADDRESS TO A MOUSE 

polnI MvicB, 

kdyX j( bisnCk vyoraJ hnbdo. 

Ty plachi, Sed4 myiko maU, 
6, jak jsi ty se polekala I 
Ne, netfeba, bys utfkala 

uk o sv^ litf ! 
VMy^ taiif jen otka neurvaU 

ti ublQitL 

MnC iel, He £lov£k vlddou svojf 
rvc pisku, kterd tvorstvo pojf 
a V pfirodS se v5e ho bojf, — 

a zmfriS v stracbu 
ly, jei jsi rodem drulkou mojt 

a sestTOu V prachu 1 

Ji vtm, le kradeS nSkdy z Kt, 

aj co!!, chud&ko — nulno i[t ! 

Z dvoi) mandelA si klisek vz[t,-~ 

nu, bud' mQj boat : 
bych mob' si chleba umfsit, 

nin£ zbylo dost 1 

I I tv^ho domku strh' jsem krovy 
a I vetchych stSn si vftr lovl, 
a i Seho nynt stavft nov# 

nel I ostfice? — 
Je la dvehni sntb pcosincov^ 

a vichKcc 

Kdyi pustia pole a co kde, 
ty's vidSIa, jak zima jde 
a myslila, it budeS ide 

EC heiky mft — 
Tu tl^skt pluh knit^ projede 

tvHj tepl]? byt 

Ta mali brstka trivy, stlan^ 
%i stila kni$n£ namib&nL — 



BURNS IN BOHEMIAN OR CZECH 

Ted' vypuzena 1 la vSe ani 

ti nezbyl kout, 
bys mohla pfeb^t snibu vint 

a neimnnout I 

VSak, myiko, tak^ my to zndme, 
jak ostraiitost £asto klame ;— 
plin nejlepS^ jimi hlavu \ixat 

si flov£k, myS— 
CO I vScbo ibude ?^strasli sam^ 

a bol a ICE. 

A pfec tvQj osud pfeSt'asten i 
Ty pouze vfi, <!fni zranf den ; 
zrak inAj vSak zpitky obricen, 

6, teskno tain I 
A pFede mnou ? — ji hidim jen 

a hritzu indm ! 

hosskA chudobce. 

Ty nSin^' kvUku nidobfl^, 
my potkali se ve zlou chvfli, 
mOj plub a hroudy rozkniSily 

tv^ li'stky prostd ; 
ti uSetfit jest nad mi sCly, 

ty drobn^ skvoslc I 

O iel mi toho zaordnf ! 

To nenf skfivan, jeni t6 sklint, 

— tvij mil;? soused, — v rose rannt, 

svou pestrou hnidC, 
kdyi vesel vzldine za sv(Cdjt( 

a pole budL 

Boul' od severu jeSli vyla 
V ten luta, kde jsi se narodila 
a smavl o£ka otvoFila, 

ty mali snliko, 
a£ nod zem sotva's povstyfila 

sv£ litlri trika 



A MOUNTAIN DAISY 

KvSt, lahrada jfmi! vyzdobena, 
bud' kfovl cbrini nebo stina, 
vSak tpod broiidy neb zpod kamena, 

ty kvttko mal^ 
nim pole zdobS nechrinina 

a sama sl^e. 

Zde, ad£na v sv^m chud^m iatu, 
hrud' sn£Enou houpil v slunce zlatit 
a z tobo vSebo iid cbvatu 

tak m£Uo iiAi& I 
Viak pfiSel plub a na obratu 

ted' V brSidu padiS ! 

Tak osud j^ekfl na dfv£inu, 
j^ jako kvftek rostla v sttnu 
a V prost£ lisce nezni ninu 

jsouc beze stracbu, 
a V mJEik, jak ty ted' padEli v blfnu, 

se octne r pracbu 1 

To takd osud pivce b'jyi, 
kdyi mofem iitf lod' mu splj?vi 
a nezni nika nedbanliv^ 

CO moudH kiif,— 
al rdzem vskoff vlna div£ 

a V bloub jej ardlf. 

To tak£ los je trpitele, 
jeni a nouzl vl1£il {iti celd, 
af lest a p^cha nepfftele 

jej V bfdu skldly 
a nezb^vj mu nad«j dile, 

krom nebes— ¥ dilL 

I k tobi, jenl! tu nad tfm kvStem 
se rmoutB, osud chvSxi. letem ; 
plub zmaru v poll neosetein 

V tvQj kvSt se blQf, 
ai skrulen lehneS, zbrzen svEtem 

pod brdidy tQi 



272 



BURNS IN BOHEMIAN OR CZECH 



The same success attends Mr. SMdek's treatment of 
the songs, with the exception of some of the social and 
humorous songs, wheie he does not maintain the same 
high standard. 

For instance, in 

® SBiUie f reto'b, 

the chorus reads — 

*'Ndm 2{zeii hrdlo potrhd 
a proto tfeba pivo ctft, 
i at* si kohout kokrhd 
a den se dnf, my budem pft 1 ** ' 

I cannot understand how Mr. Slidek has given this 

for 

" We are na fou, we're no that fou, 
But just a drappie in our e'e : 
The cock may craw, the day may daw. 
And aye we'll taste the barley bree," 

it is so unlike his faithful work, and below his rendering 
of the rest of the song. 

veselA troiice. 

6 Willie na6al soude^k 

a Rob i Allan byl tu hned, 
V tu noc po cel^m Idfest'anstvu 

Set* lepSfch brachA nevidSt 

Nim 2(zefi hrdlo potrhd 

a proto tfeba pivo ct{t, 
i at' si kohout kokrhd 

a den se dnl, my budem pft ! 

^As thirst tears our throat 
Therefore we must do honour to beer, 
Let the cock crow 
And the day break, we still shall drink. 



O WILLIE BREWED 

My jsme tfi hoii veselE, 
tfi siatnf hoii i Mokrovic, 

my probili tak mnohou hoc 
a douffEme jich probit vie. 

Hie, misfEek je vysoko, 
ji inim ten jeho bflj? roh, 

chce na mou <fest nds domA v&t, 
to by si jeStS po£kat moh'. 

Zvin lotr bud' a dareba, 
kdo od karbele prvnf vstal ; 

kdo poslednf pad' pod lidli, 
ten trojice je naSf krii ! 

N&m lUe^ hrdlo ptitrhi 

a proto tfeba pivo ctft, 
i at' si kohout kokrhd 
a den $e dn(, my budem p(tl 
He ahnost spoils his version of 

'She $tatv SBooci: 
by such a rendering as 

"Bobaty statck, bohatSI stryc,"' 
for 

" A weel-stockM mailin, himsel' for the laird," 

which is very poor; whilst 

" Co d'ibel nechtSl, la dvandct dni 
doSel k mfe sestfence Bessy, 
ta Cernd straka 1 — vodil se s ni ; 
6, potkat jen sama ji kdesi, d, kdesi, 
d, potkat jen sama ji kdesi!"' 

' Himself, a rich estate, a richer ancle UilL 
'And (he devil, if he didn't in twelve day* 

Go to my cousin Bessy — 
That black magpie, and went about with her ; 

Oh ! if I ever should meet her alone, oh, ever! 

Oh ! ir I evei should meet her alone. 



J74 BVRf/S IN BOHEmAtf OR CZECH 

is Still worse as a substitute for 

"But what wad ye think? in a fortnight or less — 
The deil tak' his taste to gae near her ! 
He up the Gateslack to my black cousin Bess : 
Guess ye bow, the jade ! I could bear her, could 

bear her. 
Guess ye how, the jade ! 1 could bear her." 

These are all the more taDtalizing as they are so weak, 
and are the only defects in an otherwise cxcelleot trans- 
lation. 

Ibnich. 
Minule v miji ienich £el k n^m 

a velkou svou lisku na lokie ui£fil, 
jii fekta, k mulflm idltf ie mdm, 

a d'as ho vem, on mi to rSfil, on viSfil, 

d'as ho vem, on mi to vCFil ! 
On i^k", fe V oitch na sta mim stfel, 

ie Idska v rov by jej skMla ; 
jd fekla, aby si pro Jeany mfel, 

a pin BAh mi odpust*, jd Ihala, ji Ihala, 

pdn BQh mi odpusf, jd Ihalu. 
Bohat^ statek, bohaiSt stryc, 

bned svatba, kdyby se Ifbii, — 
jd na vie Jako bych nedbala nic, 

9.1 jiny ixAsA mi slfbil, mi slfbtl, 

a£ jin^ m^ni^ mi slIbiL 
Co d'dbel nechtSI, za dvandci dnj 

doSel k m^ sestfcncc Bessy, 
ta <^emd straka l^vodil se s nf; 

d, potkat Jen sama ji kdesi, o, kdesi, 

6, potkat jen sama ji kdesi 1 
S nedSle cestu do m£sta mdm, 

idrmutkem slepd a hluchd, 
a kd(^ tarn nebyl nclti on sam, 

mn£ iddlo se, ie vidfm ducha, ba ducha, 

zdilo se, le vidfm ducha. 



THE BRAW WOOER 

Jit jenom pro Itdi pahledla naA, 
— muslme v^sti si skroniDg, — 

mOj lenich klop^nul, hoff mu slcrdn, 
a fekl, ie b'.dien Je do m*, je do mfi, 
fekl, le bifben je do m£. 

Jd na svou sestfenku ptala se hned, 
sluch-li j( slouil V torn fasti, 

s jeji-li noikou £vec-li to sved' — 
klel, noie, jako sto d'asil sto d'asfl, 
klel. Dole, jako sto d'asd 1 

Oych si ho vzala, prosi), co moh', 

ie vyrvu srdce mu z nitra ;— 
tak abji neumi^I, uboh)f hocb, 

snad bude svatba ul zftra, uf iftra, 
snad bude svatba uiE riira. 



he succeeds better, though 

" hej, to bylo smfchu," ' 
entirely misses the drollery of 

" Ha, ha, the wooing o't" ; 
and 

"Malta hluchd jako dub"* 

seems an unhappy substitute for 

" Meg was deaf as Ailsa Craig," 
and scatters to the wind all poetical associations with the 
"whispering oak" and "the spirit in the wood," Other- 
wise the translation is most felicitous. 



276 BURNS IN BOHEMIAN OR CZECH 

DUSKAN. 

Na ndmluvy Dunkan §el, 

hej, to bylo smfchu ; 
z nds u2 kaidy v hlav£ in61, 

hej, to bylo smfchu; 
Marta, — ach to Idsky hrob, — 
zvedla nosejk v samy strop, 
Dunkan st^l tu jako snop, 
hej, to bylo k smfchu ! 

Dunkan prosil, Dunkan cup\ 

hej, to bylo smfchu ; 
Marta hluchd jako dub, 

hej, to bylo smfchu. 
Dunkan vzdychal zle a zle, 
o^i m^l jak promokle, 
fek\ 2c sko^f do rokle, 
hej, to bylo k smfchu ! 

Ale pfejdou den i noc, 
hej, to bylo smfchu, 

marnd Uska trdpf moc, 
hej, to bylo smfchu. 

Rek' si Dunkan : Bldzen jsem, 

abych umfel k smfchu v§em ? 

PySnd husa, d'as ji vem ! 
hej, to bylo smfchu. 

Jak se stalo, — doktor sprav ; 

hej, to bylo k smfchu : 
Marta stAnS, Dunkan zdrdv, 

hej, to bylo smfchu. 
N^co bodd ve iiadrech, 
za vzdechem se dere vzdech, 
a ty o6i, — CO je v tftch ! 

hej, to bylo smfchu. 

Dunkan, — nu, byl m€kk]^' hoch, 
hej, to bylo k smfchu, 

jak by Marti nepomoh'? 
hej, to bylo smfchu. 



DUNCAN GRAY 37; 

Nemoh' jejf smrti chift ;— 
tak se smffil rad£j' hned, 
ted* je oba tSSt svSt, 
hej, to byla smfchu ! 

One of the humorous songs, hovever, is rendered in 
he same faultless style as the pathetic songs, and that 



3he Sxctstman. 

CBRT PO VSI HHAL. 

Cert po vsi hrll a tancoval 

a odift' 3 akcisikem, 
a iCeny vzkfikly : " Robat^, 

jen chytni si ho bikem 1 

Ted' budetn vaFit, plvo pft 

a zainem se saumrakem, 
a vSech nis dfk m£j pekelnfk, 

ie odlll' s akcisdkem ! 

Je dupflk, straSdk, obkrofik 

a skofnd s rejdovflkem, 
viak le vSecH tancQ nejlepl^ 

d'as tan£il s akcisdkem.— 

Cert po vsi hi^l a tancoval 

a odilf s akcisElkem ; 
a leny vikfikly : " Rohat^, 

jen chytni si ho h jkem ! " 

But when we come to the pathetic songs, Mr. Sl^ek's 
efforts are so perfect that any criticism would be mere 
pedantry. They are almost matchless translations. I give 
some examples of the various classes of songs without 
further 



BURNS M' BOllEMlAX OR CZECH 



5, Jttsn'a « ^au for a' that. 

/f VSEMU V/.DnK-A I'HF.CII 

Ze mit se cbudi poctivost 

se svislou hiavou vUci ? — 
To sketa dC !— My smflf dost 

byt chudymi jsme pFeci ! 
Vidor klopotf, jei dusf nda 

a pFes ty vSechny vici : 
je vzneSenost jen mince r.-tz, 

a muX je zlatem pFeci. 

At" sta£l ndm jen na chlebn 

a Serku a ty v6ci, — 
kment bloud mij, vino dareba, 

jen mul je Clovik pfeci. 
Pres pozlAtkovd pavu£(, 

ty cetky a ty v6ci 
niui! poitii-j', at' ncjchiidSi. 

jest krilem lidf pfeci. 

Jak Cepyfi se hejsek ten : 

mi erb a tak ty vfici 1 
sta klekl jich, kdyl htesne jen, 

a on Je hlupdk pFect. 
I'fei v£echen Icsk, jlmi oplyvd, 

ty Mdy, sluhy, vici 
tiiui volny se nafi podivU 

a usmSje se pFeci. 

Krdl knilecf mfli' titui ddt 

a ierpu mansk^ pi eel, 
vjak ctndho muie ud^lat, 

to nedokdie pfeci ! 
PFes dAsiojenscvt kaidy' druh, 

a Slechtick6 ty v£ci : 
tvdF poctivd a siln^ duch 

t(m neJvySSim jsou pi^i. 



A MAN'S A MAN FOR A' THAT 

Toi modlem se, af stane se 

a stane sc to pfcci, — 
by icst a duch si zemi knih 

Sv6 podmanily vilci. 
Ba viemu vzdor, iet* jedenlcrdt 

po Sir&n svit£ pFeci 
mui podle muie bude stdt 

jak bracr pled k pleci ! 



Scots, tohs hai 
the publisher adds the patriotic prayer — 

" And so may Cod always protect the cause ol 
as He did on that day \ Amen." 

P&ED BITVOU U BANNOCKBURNU. 

Skoti, ktci* WalUce ved', 
SkotI, s nimil Bruce Sfil v pfed, 
vftejte mi naposled 

V hn>b, neb vftizstvl ! 
Ted' je den a ted' je mJEik ; 
viite £ery vrabd Sik, 
hie, to Edward, nisilntk, — 

pouta, otroctvf I 

Kdo ie chce tu iradit vlast ? 
Kdo jak sketa v hrob se kldst? 
Kdo Jak podly rob se tfist? 

couvni, prchni hned I 
Za krdle a skotsky lid, 
za volnost kdo chce se bit, 
voln^ stit a voln^ tnHt, 

PH dtiskil bMich, zlech, 
vaiicb synech v okovech 1 
vycedfme krev ill v3ech, — 
volnj? vSak bud' syn 1 



BURNS Iff BOHEMIAN OR CZECH 

S niulnflcy dalD dnes! 
V kaid^m vrahu tyran kles'! 
Volnost ina£f kaid^ tes I— 
k v(tiz$tv{, neb v zhyn I 

A tak cbranif Bflh vfc pravdy a volnosti, 
jak •aSavA to v oncn den ! Amen. 
Poin. Ulsnlkovo. 



^nlb Sxng S'S'"- 

DAY NO Jli. 

Jak, — stard Idsky zapomnft, 
kde dnihu drub sl^ blfl ?~ 

jak, — star^ lisky lapoinnft, 
■nad, le to divno Jil ? 

Tak divno, bracbt) m£tj, 

tak divno jii, — 
viak srdefni si pFipijem 

na "ddvno jil I" 

My kvfty spolu trhali 
pfes mnobj? dol a v}'£ ; 

tak ddvno ji£. 

My Splouchaii sc v potoce, 

ida je5t6 o torn vfi? 
pak lauj^ila nfls mofsktt hloub 

tak d^vno jil 

Zde ruka, viErn^ pfiteli, 
a k mdmu srdft bIQ ! 

tak hluby dou$ek nepili 
jsme ddvno jii ! 

Ty jisl£ do dna dopijeS 
a jd svou do dna £B : 

bud' idriivo vSe, jakbyvalo 
tak dflvno jii t 



AULD LANG SYNE 381 

Tak ddvno, brachu mAj, 

talc divno jil, — 
v$ak srddfni si pFipijem 

na — " Divna jil I" 

The excellence of Mr. Slidek's translation is most 
conspicuous in the love songs ; indeed, they are generally 
faultless. He, like so many other translators, omits the 
O in 

|KB ^annit, 03. 

mA NANNIE. 

Tarn la horami, ze slatin 

kde Lugar teie v liny, 
den zimnf zapad' v noci kUn 

a \A. jdu za svou Nannie. 

Noc tmavd jest a d^St' a chlad 

jdou od idpadnf Strang, 
vSak veimu plaid a podfvat 

se pQjdu ke svri Nannie. 

Tak roztomild, mladi jest 

V t^ prost6 krdse panny ; 
ten jaiyk stihni bolf trest, 

jeni klamal by mou Nannie. 

Tou krisau srdce prosv(td 

bei poskvmy a hany, 
Jen chudobka ted' roiviti 

je £ista jak mi Nannie. 

Ji venkovsk^ jsem, prosty hoch 

a mila lidmi many, 
le<i CO mi vSech je po lidecb, 

jsemt* vltin vldy sv^ Nannia 

Mtf bohatstvf je mojc nuda,— 

sic nemiiffm se s p^Uiy, 
vSak nikdo mi nic nepfid^ 

mOj poklad jest md Nannie. 



282 BURNS IN BOHEMIAN OR CZECH 

Nd§ sedl^k rdd se dfvd v luh 

na ovce, konS, I^ny, 
jd rdd mdm v nice jeho pluh 

a na srdci svou Nannie. 

A V dobru, zlu mni dostac^i 

los nebesy mi dany, 
mne 2ddnd starost netla2( 

a 2iju jen sv^ Nannie. 



MARY MOR/SON. 

O, Mary, pHstup, k oknu bl(2, 

to ^as, kdy vfddm t£ tarn stdt — 
at' spatHm tism^v, pohled jiS, 

mn6 dra2§{ kaid^ nad poklad. 
Jak pracoval bych v poll rdd' 

od dsvitu a2 v slunka sklon, 
kdyX V odm6nu bych svoji zvdt 

moh' sli^nou Mary Morison 

Kdy2 v^era hudba za^la zn^t 

a tancem hluc^el sv6tly sdl, 
m€ mySl^nky Sly k tobd v let, 

jd neslySel a ned>'chal, 
ten krdskou tu, ten onu zval 

a po jin^ byl vSechnSch shon. — 
" O, nenf," jd si zavzdychal, 

"z vds iddnd Mary Morison 1" 

(^, Mary, tolik strojfS muk, 

a jd bych za t6 umfel tich, 
a stavi§ m^o srdce tluk, 

V n£m2 pouze Idska k tob^ hHch. 
Kdy2 Idsky nenf v prsou tvych, 

pfej soucitny mi aspoft ston, — 
neb mySl^nek mft nemA2' zlych 

V sv^ duSi Mary Morison. 



AFTON WATER 283 

In 

JUton raster 

he again, like so many other translators, omits the 
adjective which renders the original so melodious, and 
says simply, 

" PlyS zvolna, Aftonc." ' 
In the Czech version, however, this omission does not inter- 
fere with the melody. 

NA AFTONU. 

PlyA zvolna, Aftonc, pfes luhy a vfes, 
plyf) zvolna, k Iv^ chvdie jfl zaipfv^ dnes ; 
mj Mary tu dfime u ieveln^ch p£n, 
plyA zvolna, Aftone, a neru£ j{ sen. 

Tarn V dalu mi usiafi, ty hrdlifko, jil., 
ty hvlzdavy kose tarn v tm[ se ztiS, 
juf pfcstail, ty fejko, mi volat a Ikiit, 
mou dfvku, vds lUdim, ted' nechte mi spflt 

Jak pnou se, Aftonc, \\€ pahorky kni, 
jak Jisti klikatf se bysti^n* v dol, 
tam kaid]? den bloudlir, kdyi slunce jde v^S, 
m^m pfed sebou st^da i Marynu chyi. 

Jak mily tv^ch zelen^ch dolin je vzhled, 
kde V lesinich divok^ch petrklfC zkvet', 
tam £asto, kdyl vlahj? ul soumrak je dne, 
bhz vonn^ch kmcn stfnl mou Mary j mne. 

Jak Cistj?, Aftonc, tv^ch proudO je tfpyt, 
kdyl vinou sc kolem, kde Maryn je byt, 
jak la£kuj( vody kol noiek jak snfh, 
kdyi stavfc je trhj kv£t na bi^'ch tvjfcL 

Plyft zvolna, Aftone, pfes luhy a vFes, 
plyfi zvolna, mi feko, \&. zpfvdm ti dnes ; 
md Mary tu dHme u £cveln)!ch p£n, 
plyti ivolna, Aftonc, a nerul j[ sen. 

' Flow gently, AAod. 



284 



BURNS IN BOHEMIAN OH CZECH 



O, KDYBYS MRAZNOU VICHRlcl . . . 

6, kdybys mraznou vichHcf 

§la po pUni, §la po plini, 
mAj Sat pFed divou v^nicf 

\,h ochr^nf, \,h ochrdnL 

A kdyby sudby krut^ los 

Xk bouH stih', t6 bouH stih', 
md prsa tebe ukryjou 

pfed kaldou z nich, pfed kaSdou z nich. 

A kdybych byl kdes v pusting 

a sv^ta kraj, a sv^ta kraj, 
kdy2 ty tarn budeS, divd pouSt* 

inn£ bude rdj, mn6 bude r^j. 

A kdybych s tebou, sv£ta krdl, 

byl na triin^, byl na tr&n^ 
ty bude§ skvostem nejdraSSfm 

V m^ korun^, v m^ korunS ! 



In 



Jl ileb, SUb ll00e 



he omits the colour entirely, and simply says — 

" Mi mild jest jak riiXi^ka." * 

This does not mar the music in the Czech as it does in 
the English language, but I think it would have been 
better had Mr. SMdek retained the O in this song, 

"O my love's like a red, red rose," 
as he did with "O wert thou in the cauld blast." 



' My love is like a rose. 



A RED, RED ROSE 285 

mA milA jest JAK ROhi^KA. 
M£ mtlj jest jak rdiij^ka, 

kdyi V iervnu vypuiHf, 
mj mili jest jak pfsai^ka, 

kdyl sladce laivuiH. 
A jak jsi krdsnd, dfvko mi, 

tak z duSe mdni t6 rdd, 
spB' mofe vyschnou, ndE bych jil 

t£ pFestal milovat 
Sp{l' mofe vyschnDu, miU£ku, 

a ze skal bude troud, — 
a k vroucfmu tJ!, mildfku, 

chci srdci pFivinout 
A s bobem bud', mi mileni, 

bud' idriva, Bah tC sil,— 
vSak pFijdu zas, at' vidaleni 

jsi deset tisCc roil! 

iDf a' the JLirts the Winb can ^Eato. 

Here, exceptionally, Mr. Slidek misses one of Burns's 

poetical touches, in which he gives, or at least indicates, 

the same individual character to the wind as is given in 

the "Dowie Dens o' Yarrow" — 

" Ob, gentle wind that bloweth south 
From where my love repairetfa. 
Convey a kiss from his dear mouth 
To tell me how be faretb." 
This touch Mr. Slidek misses, and merely says, 
"VSech ihlil svita nejradJEj* 
ten zdpadov]? mim," * 
The remainder of the translation, however, maintains the 
uniform high standard. 



286 BC/^NS IN BOHEMIAN OR CZECH 

VSECH UHLO SVETA. 

VSech uhlA sv^ta nejrad^j' 

ten zdpadovy mdm, 
neb moje zlat^ srde^o 

dlf za horami tain. 
Tarn hvozdy jsou a feky jdou 

a roste vfes a mech 
a V noc i den tarn toulim jen 

k sv^ nejniilejSf z vSech. 

Ji vidim v kaidd kvStinS 

tak milou, sli^nou tak, 
ji slySfm, v doubrav tiSind 

kdy2 mflo zpfvi ptdk. 
Ba tolik nemd kv^tinek, 

ni louka, les a bfeh, 
ni ptd^at, jd CO vzpomfnek 

na nejmilejSf z vSech. 

NIfCOMU, 
Mdm 2enu svou a mdm ji r^d 

a neberu ji nikomu ; 
]i, parohy si nedim dit 

a neddvdm je nikomu. 

]i. mdm svAj gro§ a nechci vfc, 
ade !— dfky za nic nikomu ; 

]i, k pAj^ovdni nemdm nic 
a nejsem dlu2en nikomu. 

Jd nevedu si panskou ife^, 
v§ak neukfivdfm nikomu, 

j^ mam svAj dobi^, plosky me2 
a nevyhnu se nikomu. 

Chci vesely a volny byt 
a neSadonfm nikomu, 

kdyl nikdo nechce ke mn6 jft, 
vSak nepAjdu jd k nikomu I 



COMING THKO' THE RYE 



(CtnmiMi thio' the %^t 

Mr. SIddek avoids the "brook" erroT of so many trans- 
lators, and renders it faithfiilly to the originaL 

JAK Ila ilTEM. 
Jak ila litem Jenny mali, 

jak Sla pfes tu mez, 
suknifku si urousala 

uboitttko dnes. 

Uboiidtko, Jenny mali, 

JSasto jako dnes 
sukni£ku si urousala, 

jak Ila pfes tu lne^ 

N6koho-li potki nfikdo, 

jak jde litem kdns, 
nfkobo-li zl^uhifkuji:, 

naf by n£kdo hles'7 

Nikoho-li potkj nfkdo, 

jak jde skrze les, 
nSkoho-li zhubiSkuic, 

mi to zv<5dit ves? 

Uboiitko, Jenny maid, 

£asto jako dnes 
suknifku si urousala, 

jak 31a pfes tu mei. 



Jfahit Jlnbetsoii, ins <|c. 

JAN ANDERSEN. 

Mflj Jene Andersene, 
kde jsou ty mlad^ Easy ! 
mil's felo jako mMko 
a bavrani mil's vlasy. 



BURNS IN BOHEMIAN OR CZECH 

Tetl' felo mdS tak lyse, 

a vlasy |>osn£len^, 

vSak iehncj BQh tu surou leb, 

ttit] Jene Andersene. 

MOj Jene Andersene, 
my do vrcbu Sli spolu 
a proiili dem mnoh^ 
i V radosti i v bolu ;— 
ted' vr^vardme Aa\t, 
vSak ruku v nice, Jene, 
a dole budein spolu spdt, 
mflj Jene Andersene 1 



•iTo iBats in ^tnbfn. 

MAHII y NEBEsicfi. 
Ty hvf zdo, hasnoud tak zvolna, 

vitdy prvnftn jitrem vttina,— 
zas den mi hUls^S, acb tak bolnd, 

kdy Marie mi vyrv^na. 
O Marie, ty drahj? stfne, 

kde nyni v mfru blaze dlfS? 
ida vidfS toho, jeni zde hyne, 

fi knity bol mflj neslySii? 

Jak zapomnft na chvfl[ n£hu 

a na posviltny hiijek ten, 
kde na klikaitfm Ayni bFehu 

jsme 3!ili krdtk^ Idsky den P 
6 nevyhladi vSinost ccli 

ty vzpomfnky t£ch zailych dni, 
tvflj obraz, jak's mi v loktecb diela, 

to objetf, ach {>osledn(I 

Ayr sniv£ bublal pfes oblizky, 
les, husty palit spljh'al v niz ; 

vie kolem jaly v niruJ Msky, 
tu hloh, tam vonn^ v£tve bh'i. 



TO MARY IN HEAVEN 

Kvit pukal piDy rosn^ vljhy, 
na sDJEti Uskou zpfval ptdk, 

aJ znidnul zdpad, ach tak zjhy I 
a den se cbjflil ve soumrak. 

Ty vzpomfnky mi iijou d^e 

a ducb se nemCtf odtrhnout ! 
fas vSe, CO bylo, hloubf stile, 

jak FefiStC si fariidf proud. 
6 Marie, ty zaily stlne, 

kde nynf v mfru blaze dlB ? 
ida vidfS toho, jenl zde hyne, 

neb krut^ bol maj neslySB? 



HUNGARIAN. 

In the Hungarian there are, in a translation by Joseph 
L^vay, published in Budapest in 1892,^ the same terse 
and faithful rendering, and the same sympathetic spirit 
displayed as in the Bohemian version. This volume is 
neat and chaste, and contains nearly 270 pieces, with a 
full and appreciative preface. 

^he (lottar*0 <§atnrbas ^tght 

Mr. L^vay has evidently drunk in the spirit of this piece. 
He gives it complete, including the extract from Gray's 
*' Elegy " and the " Dedication to Robert Aiken," and 
renders it with so much beauty and fidelity that it would 
only be captious to pick out any small defects ; but, indeed, 
these are few, the chief one being that he represents the 
children as working with their father instead of being at 
service with neighbouring farmers, as was formerly so much 
the custom in Scotland. So he renders 



«i 



Belyve, the elder bairns come dnipping in, 
At service out, amang the farmers roun' ; 

Some ca' the pleugh, some herd, some tentie rin 
A cannie errand to a neebor town,'* 

^ Bums RSbcrt Kolteminyei^ forditotta Levay Jozj^f, kiadja a 
Kisfaludy-Tirsasag. Budapest : Frank 1 in -Tarsulat, Magyar Ircxl. 
Intezet cs Konyvnyomda. 

290 



i^K.'^&V 






> 




THE COTTAR'S SATUKDAY NIGHT 



" K^sObb beHpnek a korosb fiak. 

Seg{tfii a gazdagsdgba' mir, 

Ek^D^I ez, a nydjndl az forog, 

A harmadik raeg' a virosba jir."' 

As well as being incorrect in meaning, this is the feeblest 
verse in the translation, though there arc few verses which 
merit this adjective. Jenny does not seem to be a common 
name in Hungarian, as Mr. L^vay changes the daughter's 
name to Elizabeth (Erzsike'^Erzsi). I give the whole 
piece. 

S7.0MBAT ESTVE A KUNYh6bAN. 

Igen tisztelt bar^tom, kedvesem '. 

Ez a dal nem bjrencz k&ltfi dala; 

Becsiilet vonz, nem a konciot tesem, 

Dfjam cgy \6 bardt tctsid siava. 

^neklem egyszerU skit hangokon 

Ai egyiigyii £lec sordt neked, 

S 6s ^rzet^t, mely bQnnel nem rokon ... 

Oh, ha kunyh6ban folyna dieted, 

Tin nSvtelen volnil, de boldogabb, lehet 1 

Novcmberi %i€\ zlig az ugaron, 
A t^Ii kurta nap vig^re jdr, 
Megt^r ekdbfil a csiiggedt barom, 
Nyugodni szill a varjak serge mir. 
V^ge a gazda flradalminak, 
Egy hix baj Jnak v^get vet az (!j ; 
Xs6t, kapit, gereblydc fissze ral^ 
A holnapt61 enybet, nyugtot rem^l 
S a raezfirSl haza lankadtan mendeg^l. 

' Laier on the older »on» come in, 
Who alieadj assisl him in the (ann. 
This one at (he plough, the other at the thec|s 
The third goes to the Iovq. 



292 



BCTRNS IN HUNGARIAN 

Feltfln el6tte magdnos laka, 
A mcly fblott egy v^n fa v6dve 411 ; 
Csendiil a vdr6 kisdedek zaja, 
Apjok el6 szalad mind, szinte szdll 
Viddman csillog6 kis tflzhelye, 
Cscvcgd gyermek (tdrd^n rengeti) 
Rei mosolyg6 szorgalmas neje, 
Nyoinaszt6 gondjain kdnnyft neki, 
S tdrdd^set, bajdt mind elfeledteti. 

K^s6bb bel^pnek a korosb fiak. 

Segftdi a gazdagsdgba' mar, 

Ek^nel ez, a nydjndl az forog, 

A harmadik meg' a vdrosba ykx, 

A legid6sb remdnyok, Erzsike 

Szint^n bej6, kit ifju tdz hevit, 

Taldn cgy uj oltonyt mutatni be, 

Vagy megtakargatott filldreit, 

Melyekkel szul6in majd szliks^gben segit 

Ldny es fitestvdr ekk^nt egy be gyfil, 
S egymds hogyan l^t^t k^rdezgeti ; 
A nydjas 6ra gyors szdmyon repiil, 
Ki mit hallott s Idtott, besz61geti. 
£s rajtok ligy merengnek a sziil6k, 
Mintha remdnyok b^telt volna mdr. 
Az anyjok tdvel, oll6val siirog, 
Ocska ruhdt foltoz s ujjd csindl 
S m^ldznak az apjok int6 szavaindL 

Inti, hogy gazda, gazdasszony szavdt 
A legdnyeknek teljesftni kell ; 
Dolgozni kell ser^nyen, igazdn 
Ott is, hoi rdjok senki nem figyel. 
" S oh I fflj6tek mindenha az urat, 
£jjel-nappal h{in munkdlkodjatok ; 
Megdllni a kis^rt^sek alatt, 
Az 6 seg^ly^hez forddljatok : 
A ki 6t keresi, csal6dni sohse fog." 



THE COTTAR'S SA TURDA Y NIGHT 

De csitt ! az ajtio ime csendesen 

Kopugnak : Ensi mir j61 tudja ki : 

A szoinszM fia jdrt a r^Ieken 

S baza kisdrte tft, most valija ki ; 

A sziiii lingra, mely Erzsi siem^t 

S arciit elSnti, anyja fdlfigyel, 

Tfiprengve Wrdi a fiH nevct,— 

S Klig szepegve mondja Ensi cl, 

Oriil ai anyjok, hogy nem hitvdny siheder. 

Biltran veiet be Erzsi egy der^ 

Ifjat, kit anyjok viisgin n&eget ; 

Oriil Erzsi, hogy nem rossnll vev^k... 

Apjok lovat, ek^t mit emieget. 

OrtJm gydl a leg^ny jimbor sziv^n, 

De oly szem6nne5, dgy tartdzkodik ; 

Az anya-szem kik^inli kdnnyed^n, 

Mi^ pinil, mi^rt komolykodik 

S Orvend, hogy sziildtce mix nagylednykodik. 

Oh ! boldog szerelem, ha ilyelin I 

Oh [ Mes dbrdnd i p^ratlan gyiinydt ! 

Sokat pr6biiltam, jinam-keltetn ^n, 

S tapasztal^som ily siavakba tiir : 

"Ha a menyorszig egy csepp iidve vdr 

Jutalmiul e fSld keservinek, 

Ei az, ba egy szerehnes ifju pdr 

Egymis karjiba olvadtan piheg 

S bokrok k&it illatos szelld legyinti meg." 

Van-^ ember, ki siivvel bir, van-^ 

Oly hitviny, gai, szeretni k^elen, 

Alutakon ki tdrbc ejten^ 

Az ifju siep Erzsit k6nydrtelen? 

M&es szavdt, bfln^t elitkozom I ... 

Erdny, becsiilet, szfv mind semmi hat? 

Nines irgalom, nines gyiing&l szinalom 

A gyeimeket Kltd snilA irdnt ? 

K^pzeld bdsz ktnjokat > a megrontott leiinyt ) 



294 



BUHNS IN HUNGARIAN 

De fme itt hozzik a vacsordt : 
Skotok f6 6tke, j6 pudding kerul ; 
Tejet hozzd az az egy boczi ^d, 
Mely farkcs6vdlva k^rddzik kivdl. 
A n6 egy megkfm^lt sajtot teszen 
Kedvesked^sul a leg6ny ele ... 
Megfzli az, dics^ri is, hiszem, 
S a takar^kos n6 ter^l-fer^l : 
Egy ^ves lesz a sajt lenvirdgzds feld. 

Hogy a viddm vacsora veget ^r, 

Tdg k5rt formdlnak a tdzhely koriil; 

A gazda a nagy biblidra t^r, 

Az, szolgdlt egykor apja dfszeiil. 

Ahftattal veszi le siiv^^t 

Fej6r61, melyet 6sz, gy^r haj fedez, 

Kivdlasztja egyik szdp ^nek^t, 

A szent Sionban hangzott rdgen ez ; 

S " dics^rjiik az Urat I " ihletve zcngedez, 

Eneklik az ^yiigyd ^neket, 
Mely szivoket mdly^ben hatja ix ; 
Tin a fellengz6 " Dundee "-verseket, 
Vagy himeves " Martyrok " biis daldt ; 
Vagy ajkukon "Elgin" Idngverse ^g, 
A legszentebb, legszebb-dal Sk6czidn : 
Olasz-trilla ezekhez semmis^g, 
Fillet csikldnd az, de meg nem hat dm, 
I stent dics6itni kdpes se volna tdn. 

A szent konyvbdl olvasgat az apa : 

Isten bardtja mint 16n Abrahdm, 

Orok harczot M6zes mint folytata 

S mint gydzdtt Amelek gonosz haddn. 

Vagy a kirdlyi biiszke dalnokot 

Az €% haragja mikdnt verte le; 

J6b mint kesergett, mint panaszkodott, 

Ezsaidst mint ragadta Idng-heve, 

Vagy mds szent pr6feta hogy lantjdn mit veie. 



THE COTTAR'S SATURDAY NIGHT 

Az Ujszoveis^ben buvdrkodik : 
A biintelen v^r Mn^ mint iimolt, 
S hogy anrak, ki ai ^ben mdsodik, 
Nyugvii hdyet sem adhaiott a ftild 1 
Tanitvinyi bolyongvin sok batdn, 
Tandt n^y messze hirdetgetA! 
S annak, ki Patmoszbao sitofiive jirt, 
F^nyben egy angyal mint jelentkezfk, 
S Babilon ve»t<l mint jelent^ ki at ^ t 

LetA'del s az <ir6k kii^ly el6tt 
Imidkozik a stent, a frirj s apa ; 
t.% a rem^ny gyfizelmi sidrnyat tilt: 
Hogy fgy lewnek mind cgyiitt valaha, 
Ott, hoi Srdk r^nyirban Tiirdenek, 
Hoi ttibb^ kOny nem hull, sohaj se stdll, 
Teremtdjoknek egyiitt zengenek 
Dics^neket, s ott egy kedves ktir ^11, 
Mfg az ida orfik sKr^kban folydogiL 

A vallds fifnye mily szeg^ny ehbei I 

Muv^siet^t, pompijit imc n^id : 

El^be tdrul a lomegnek ez ; 

Mit ^r, ha a szlv nem vest bennc rfstt ! 

Kiilf<£nyt az IJr nem is lit kedvesen, 

Sem czifra sziSt, sem papi dfszrahit ; 

De egy rejtett kunyhdba' szivesen 

Halija a Idlek egysienl stavdt 

S helyt a sieg^nynek az ^let ktfnyi'^ben id. 

Haza indulnak attfEn utjokon ... 
Az ifjii n^ps^ nyugalomra t^r ; 
A sziile-pir kdny6i^ maginosan, 
S ai ^Sl mig kcgyelmet esdve k^r, 
Hogy az, ki tiplil ^h' hoUd fiat 
t.% liljomot 61tejztet ^kesen, 
Teijessze btilcsen a legjobbakat 
Rijok s kicsfnyeikre sziintelen, 
De fSk^p szivfiket dvja kegyelmesen. 



296 BURNS IN HUNGARIAN 

Ily mddokon lett nagygy^ Sk6czia, 
Igy 16x1 tisztelve kiinn, szeretve bent ... 
Urrd tesz a kirdlynak egy szava, 
Der^k embert csupdn isten teremt : 
S bizony az er^ny ^gi utain 
Palota a kunyh6 mdgott marad ! 
Mi a nagydri pompa? n^ha kin, 
Teher s nyomor f^nyes fbddl alatt 
S pokolmesters^ggel gonoszs^gban halad. 

Oh ! Sk6czia, ^es sz^ild haz^m ! 

Kidrt legh6bb imdm az 6gre szill, 

Legyen foldmives gyermekid nyomin 

Eg^szs^g s bdke, mely szil^rdan ^11. 

A ft^nyiiz^s rag^lydt61 az €% 

Orizze egyszerO sz^p ^Itoket ; 

Bdr a korona porba omlan^k. 

Erinyes ndp nem vcszt crfit, hitet, 

S tdzfalkdnt dll kdriil, t^ged, kedves sziget .' 

Oh 1 Te, kitai a honfi Idng fakadt, 
Mely a Wallace bdtor sziv^be szdllt, 
Hogy t6rni merjen zsamok Idnczokat, 
Awagy ha nem : haljon dics6 haUIt, — 
Te, honfiak kiilon v^distene, 
Bardtja, iidve oh mindannyinak : 
Soha ne hagyd el Sk6czidt Te, ne ! 
Hogy hodfidalnokok, hii honfiak, 
Diszefll, 6re{il folyv^st timadjanak ! 



is also well translated, though owing, no doubt, to the 
peculiar nature of the poem the standard is not quite so 
high as in "The Cottar's Saturday Night." Mr. L^vay 
falls into the error into which so many other translators 
fall, with worthy " Kirkton Jean," changing the poor 
body's sex into "Kirkton Johnny" (Kirkton Jankdval). 



TAM 0' SIIA.VTER 



297 



He makes the conduct of Tarn and his cronie more 
rational than in the original by describing them eating 
as well as drinking, and so he gives ;he expressive and 
suggestive lines — 

" Tarn lo'ed him like a vera brither ; 
Tbey bad been fou far weeks thegither." 
by 

"Tamds 6t tcstvdrk^nt szerette, 
Hft szdmra itatta, etettc" ' 
He misses the point of comparison between " the kings 
being blest " and " Tarn glorious." 

" Nagy a kirily 1 hanem Tamds Am 
Gydzott a Idt minden csapjsjn,"* 
and thus fails to reproduce the jovial picture — 

" Kings may be blest, but Tarn was glorious. 
O'er a' the ills o' life victorious." 
He gets confiised as to that pan of the poet's clothing 
which under certain circumstances he would have bartered, 
and renders 

" Thir breeks o* mine, my only pair," 
by " MelMnyem." ' 

These are, however, not grave defects in what upon the 
whole is a felicitous translation, and I therefore give it 
in full 

k6bok TAMAS. 

(ELBESZ^LiS.) 

Ha ai utciik elcsendesCtnek 

S siomjas siomsz^dok 6s5ieg>ainek, 

A mint vdsiri nap' sxokds 

S kapiikban a talilkozds ; 

■ Tam loved like a btoiher, 

Th«y all and drank for weeks tO|^ther. 
- Great ii the king, buE Thomiu 

Wss viclorioBs ovei eveiy ill orexutettce. 
• My « 



\ 



298 BURNS IN HUNGARIAN 

Mig mi s5r mellett iildog^liink, 
S elizunk ^s kedviinkre ^liink : 
Nem gondolunk hosszu m^rfoldrc, 
Mocsdrra, vizre, zord id6re, 
Mely koztiink s hdzunk kozt teriil, 
Hoi komor n6nk tdprengve iil, 
S 5sszehdzvdn szemolddkdt, 
Szftja haragja nagy tiiz^t. 
K6bor Tamds is ilyet ^rt el, 
A mint Ayrbfil lovagla ^jjel ... 
(Ven vdros Ayr, de nincsen pdrja, 
J6 emberekre, sz^p lednyra) 

Oh Tamds ! Mr lett voln' eszed, 
S Kat6d tandcsdt beveszed ! 
Megmondta 6, hogy naplop6 vagy, 
Szdjas, rdszeges, m^g pedig nagy ; 
Hogy ^venkint tizenk^t h6ban 
Vdsdr napjdn sohse vagy j6zan, — 
S firldskor a molndrral egyben 
D6zs5lsz m(g p^nz akad zsebedben, — 
Hogy mindenik 16vasaldssal 
R^szeg vagy ^gyiitt a kovdcscsal ; 
£s hogy Kirkton Jankdval is mdr 
Vasdrnapt61 h^tffiig ittdl. 
Megj6sld, hogy ha nem javulsz, 
£16bb-ut6bb a Doonba fiilsz, 
Vagy Alloway romja k6zt djjel 
A boszorkdnyok t^pnek sz^llyel. 

Oh drdga n6k ! rdstellem dn, 
Hogy annyi szdp sz6 fiistbe m^n 
S bdlcs tandcsit a n6 ha adja, 
A f^rj megvetdssel fogadja. 

De kezdjiik! Egy vdsdri djen 
Nyakalt Tamds kedvdre mdlyen. 
A lobog6 kandal16 mellett 
A habz6 ser pompdsan izlett; 
Csiszlik Jank6 vdrt ott redja, 
R^ hd, szomjas czimbordja; 
Tamds fit testvdrkdnt szerette, 
Hdt szdmra itatta, etette. 



TAM a SHANTEk 

Da] s fccsegds ttilt^ az <!jet, 
A ser tnindjobbnak jobbnak ^nett. 
Titkos, Mes nydjaskodSssal 
Jdtsiott a gazdasszony Tam^sal, 
Csiszljk meg' vad tnesdket monda 
S kaczagta lelkesen a gazda; 
Kiinn zdghatoit a v^sz riadva, 
Tam^s fiittyei hdnyc a viharra. 

A gond is, Mtva, hogyan miSlat 
E boldog ember : sorbe fuladt ! — 
Mint a mdhek kincscsel rakottan, 
Szdlltak a vidim perczek ottan, 
Nagy a kir^ly \ hanem Tanids itm 
Cy6!5tt a let ininden csapAsdn ! 

De olyan a k^j, mint a m;ik : 
^rintsd meg,— s elhull a vjrSg ; 
Vagy mint h6 a patak viziibe 
Pcrciig feh6r — s 6r5kre vege ; 
Vagy mint szi^l, mcly elszdll el^bb, 
Mintsem bely^t kik^mlenM, 
Vagy mint az a pompfls siivSrvdny, 
Mely eltilnik a vihar szjrnyfln... 
Az jdot ki sem tartja fet : 
Tamis <Sr^ja mdr kcjzel ; 
A gjilsz ^j zdrkijve ei 6ra, 
E lord drdban big fi Mra 
S ily ^jszakiln kel Otra mindjdrt, 
Minfin szegdny bOnbs sohsem jdrt. — 
Ziig a sz^l, mintha vt^fit zugna, 
Szaltad a zipor tdrve, iilzva ; 
Gyors Kny lavell ix a. siit^ten, 
Diir5g hosszan, harsdnyan, md1>'en : 
A gyennek is meg^rthet^, 
Hogy most e» €i az Ordogi. 

Olt SA szurke kanczija, Mtg, 
Kiilonbon m^g nem iiltenek. 
Sdron, pocsoly^n ittiiget, 
Megvet esat s villimtiitet 
Kijk stivegdt tartja szililrdan 
S egy v^n sk6l dalt dudol mag^ban ... 



300 



BURNS IN HUNGARIAN 

Ova n^z sz^t, hogy el ne kapja 
Vdetlen a man6k csapatja ... 
K5zel mir Alloway-egyh^ 
Hoi kis^rtet s bagoly tanydz. 

A g^l6n mdr ^tal vonult, 
Hoi egy hajtsdr a h6ba fult ; 
Elhagyta a nyirfdt s gddort, 
Hoi a Kdroly nyaka kitort ; 
£1 a berket s sziklds helyet, 
Hoi egy meggyilkolt g>'ermeket 
Lelt a vaddsz ; ds elhaladt 
Az drn^l a tiisk^ alatt 
Hoi magdt a bokrok kdz^, 
A Mungo anyja felkot^. 
Ott Idtja a Doon folyamdt ... 
Vihar zt!ig az erd6k5n dt, 
Az i% sarkdn villdm l5vel, 
Bug a ddrg^s k5zel-kozel ; 
S a fdkon mix dtcsillana 
Alloway puszta temploma, 
Minden fiilk^je f^nybe Idngol 
S viszhangzik tincz, orom zajdtol. 

H6s Arpa Jank6 ! te segitsz, 
V^szszel daczolni lelkesitsz ; 
Ha k^t garaskdnk van, helyt dllunk 
S az drddggel is szembe szdllunk... 
Igy forrt a s6r Tamds fejdben 
S az 5rddg nem forgott esz^ben ... 
De Meg megdllt s hdkkenve dmult, 
Mig sarkantyuzva neki szdguld, 
A f(fny fel^ ugy vdgtatott... 
S huh 1 Tamds szomydt Idta ott 
Boszorkinyok, biiv-szellemek 
Nem dj frank tdnczot lejtenek, 
De ugnSst, billeg6t, bokdz6t, 
]£lt6k, szivdk sarkokba szdllott... 
Fent ill egy ablak sz6giben 
A vdn Sdtdn eb kdpiben, 
Sz6re kondor, sdrii, setet, 
O szolgdltatja a zen^L 



TAM ff SHANTEJi 

Ugy sipol, dudiU, hegediil, 
Ht^y fal s tetfi majd (isszedUl ... 
Nyilt kopors61c ^Itak soijiban 
S bennSk holtak hatottniMban, 
£s nAni biivOlet gyanint 
Hideg keztikben gyertyaUng, 
Mely meUett bOs Tarn siabadon 
Ldthatja a szent asztalon : 
Gyisiban egy gyilkos tetem^l ; 
Poginyul halt k^ csecsemdt ; 
Tolvajl a bit6r61 levdgva, 
A s&ija iJgy maradt kititva ; 
(it baltlc, vdrvQrSs rozsdival ; 
Ot gtirbe kardot gyilkos minal ; 
T^rd-kotfit, mely gyenneket vesiie ; 
K^st, mely egy apa torkElt metszle, 
Kiv^gt^ dt sajdt lia, 
A k^-nyelen van dsihaja... 
S tebb siSmyfl dolgot swrte M6rva, 
Mit megnevemem Is bfln volna. 

Tamis dmult, bdmult, lesclgctt ; 
Kedv s tr^fa mindig tiizesebb lett 
A sipos hangosban dudilt, 
A tincz gyorsabb, gyorsabbra vilt ... 
Szdltnak, lengnek, si&kr^n, ugorvdn 
Inad, pdrolg mindcn bosiork^ny ; 
Ledobj^k a nihdzatot 
S egy %zi.\ ingben hancziJznak ott 1 

Oh Tam \ oh Tarn ! ha sz^p Unykik 
Egyiitt ifjan, iid^n j^rndk, 
Az ingfik nem siennyes Ran^, 
De finom v^ion, h6feh^r : 
Itt a melUnyem hamarjdban, 
— J6 fajta kdk pliis hajdandban— 
Od' adnim ei egyetlcn kinCMm, 
Hogy fiket egysier megtekintsem : 

De rinczos kdpJl agg-anyik, 
Csik6t riasztd v^n banydk, 
SiSkdfeselve boton ugr£llva : 
Csudilom, a gyomrod bogy* dUja I 



302 BURNS IN HUNGARIAN 

Hej ! tudta ^m Tamis, mi a sz^p : 
"Volt ott egy sz^p suld6-ledny-k^p " 
A czdhbe ez ^jjel vev^, 
(Ismerte aztin a viddk : 
Mert sok j6 barmot veszte el, 
Sok sz^p haj6t siilyeszte el, 
£s sz^tzildlt vet^t, mez6t, 
Eg^sz vid^k rettegte 6t) 
Az inge kurta, durva viszon 
Viselte mix kicsi kordban, 
Hosszdban az nagyon hiinyos, 
Annyija volt s abban 6 bdjos. 

Ah ! nem tudta j6 nagymamdja, 
Hogy az ing, mit kis Nannijira 
V^gs6 p^nz^n akaszta hajdan, 
Boszorkatdnczra szolgdl majdan ! 

De itt muzsim szirnya pihen, 
Itt mdr repOlni keptelen : 
Hogy Nanni mint lengett, hajolt ! 
CEr6s, hajMkony Idnyka volt) 
Mint dlla biivdlten Tamds ! 
Mint izgatta a Idtomds! 
A Sdtin is melegedett 
S ugrdndva fujta szerfelett... 
Mdg egy bakugrds s iijra mds : 
Aztdn esz^t vesztd Tamds 
"J61 van, kurta ing!" felkidlt... 
S rogton minden sot^tre vdlt, 
Alig kaphatott Meg lovdra, 
A b6sz csapat kiomla rdja. 

Mint a merges dardzs, mid6n 
Fdszk^t romboljdk a mez6n ; 
Mint eb, ha eskiitt ellens^ge, 
Macska toppan orra el^be ; 
Mint vdsdri tomeg rohan, 
Ha "tolvaj ! fogd meg !" szd harsan : 
Ugy rohant Meg s utina nyomba 
A boszorkdnyok csivajogva. 
Oh Tarn ! Tarn ! most nem menekiilsz meg ! 
Mint ^y hering, pokolba* siilsz megi 



TAM <y Sf/ANTEK 

Kat6d hidba vir, bogy ^rkeu, 
Katiid immir biis ftivegygy^ lesz ; 
Most iramodj', Meg/ most gji fel ! 
A hid kdldbdt drni el ; 
Ott farkat cs6vdlhatsi fel^jek : 
Foly6 viien i.i dk nem ^mek... 
De a hidUbig nem haladt, 
Egyik a fark^ba ragadt [ 
Men Nanni a t5bbi el^be 
Oda nyomult Meg koicl^be 
S TamSsra kdsifllt ontni m^rget, 
De Mrg tiizf t nem ismer^ m^g : 
NagyoC sifikott ura alatt, 
S bajh I siiirke farka ott maradi, 
A boszor tSben i^pte ki, 
Egy csutakot hagyvdn neki. 
Ki e reg^t olvassa, bdt 
Mindenki Srizze magdl : 
Ha Bsztonbd ivSsra int 
S eszedbe jut a kuria ing, 
— Drflga lehet az (JrOm dia, — 
Gondolj Tamis kancia lovdra ! 



^he 'tCtDS ^OQS 

is translated in Mr. L^vay's best style, and leaves little 
to be desiied. Naturally one or two slips occur, such as 
" Peczdr-fiunk, egy t&tpe, lomba, 
Kiiltinb eb^et kap naponla, 
Mint egy b<rI6 rirdemlene, 
Kinek otlhon lir a neve . . . " ' 
This fails, as other translations to which I have referred 
fail, in giving the keen sarcastic touch of " wee blastit 

' Oui dog-keepei boy, > iluggiiih dwaif, 
G«» bcLicT food every day 
Than whal a tenant would deserve. 
Who ii B master at home. 



304 BURNS IN HUNGARIAN 

wonner, // eats a dinner/' It does not do justice to 
Caesar's feelings, so tersely expressed in 

" Our Whipper-in, wee blastit wonner. 
Conceited elf, it eats a dinner 
Better than ony tenant man 
His Honour has in a' the Ian.'" 

He is completely beaten by "ferlie," and therefore 

'* Vagy emHtik az dj ad6kat 
S a Londonban vigadoz6kat" ^ 

is rather an amusing substitute for 

" Or tell what new taxation's comin. 
An' ferlie at the folk in Lon'on.'' 

But he succeeds with the 

" Hech man ! dear sirs ! is that the gate," 
where we saw so many others fail, and says — 

" Tyfl ! j6 urak, hit ekk^pen." » 
The translation well deserves reproducing in full. 

A KET KB, 
(ELBESZ^LES.) 

Azon helydn a sk6t szigetnck, 
Melyet Coil kir^yr61 neveznek, 
£g>' szdp juniusi napon, 
Ugy d^lutin, mdr szabadon, 
Nem levdn otthon dolga t5bb, 
Egymdssal k^t eb 6sszejott 

Egyiket Caesamak neveztdk 
Csak ugy mulatsdgul nevelt^k: 
Sz6r, termet, orr, fill a min6, 
Mutatta, hogy nem sk6t eb 6, 

^ And speak of the new taxes 

And the merrymakers in London. 
' Ah, dear sirs, is that the way. 



THE TWA DOGS 

De meisie tij^t kfilyke, hoi 
HaMsi zsdkminya tfike-hal. 

Finyes, finom nyakl6-lakatja, 
Nemes, tanult voltdc mutaija ; 
De h&r fd-f6 ercdeCe, 
Netn nagy voU az Sn^rzete; 
drdic nyijasan ttilt^ el 
£gy iistfoldii citgdny eb^vel ; 
Ucczin, kovjcs, molnir elSlt, 
Bdnnily kuvaszszal 6s£tejf>tt, 
Czirogatta, magdval vitle, 

5 dombot, kovet megnedves{te. 

A m£(sik egy parasit kutydja, 

Ki nagy bo1yg<5, s rim^t csinEltja , 

6 azt tirsul s baritul birta 

S egyszerQn csak Luathnak bftta. 
Mint a Felfold regdj^ben, 
Ncveztek egy cbet rdgen, 

Okos, hu eb volt sierfelett, 
N^ kiildnb mir nem lehet 
Csinos, feh^r-sdvos feje, 
Mindjflrt mindenkit megnyere ; 
Melle fehdr, de egyebiitt, 
F^nycs fekete siSr fekiidL 
Sz^p bojios farkit fClfeld 
G&rbiilt gyilrllben viscid — 

M4r 5ket egyiiv^ fSIStte 
Szoros baritkozds kolAtte. 
Kcizos orral egyiitt szagMsitak, 
Egeret, vak&ndot egyiitt ibt^ 
Olykor messze futkdrozis&al 
Versengve k5t6(ltek cgyroflssal, 
Mig bele fdradva nagy on, 
Leiillek egy dombotdalon 
S iradozva best^lgetdnek 
Urair<il a teremtdsuek. 



3o6 BURNS IN HUNGARIAN 

CiESAR. 

Gyakran csoddltam, Luath ! szinte, 
Hogy' ^1 az ily szeg^ny eb, mint te; 
S hogy' ^1 az lir ? ha Idttam azt : 
K^rddm : hdt a szeg^ny paraszt ? 
A mi unink konnyen beszed 
P^nzt, apr6 marhdt, k6szenet; 
Fdlkel, mikor tetszik neki, 
Csel^jeit becsdngeti. 
Rendel kocsit, rendel lovat, 
Sz^p selyem erszdnyt huzogat, 
Olyan hosszilt, mint a farkam, 
Sdrga arany csillog abban. 

Reggelt61 estig siitnek, f6znck, 
Nines vdge, hossza fiistnek, gdznek 
S bdr ^tkit az ur eldbb kolti, 
De gyomrdt a cseldd is tolti 
Mdrtds, vagdal(Sk s ily egy^bbcl, 
Pazarldsig telv^n az ^tel. 
Peczc^r-fiunk, egy torpe, lomha, 
Kiilonb eb^det kap naponta, 
Mint egy bcrl6 ^rdemlene, 
Kinek otthon ur a neve ... 
S hogy a szeg^ny mit rak g>'omr4ba, 
Meg nem foghatom val6jdba' ! 

Luath. 

Bizony, Caesar, tOr dm sokat! 
Kunyh6t a fdldben dsogat, 
Sdros k6b61 gdtat emel, 
Szirtet t6r s mds ily est mivel; 
Igy tartja fen magdt s nejdt 
S egy sereg apr6 gyermek<St, 
Er6s munkdn, kinnal vehet 
Testi ruhdt ds egyebet. 

S ha verni kezdi oszt* az isten : 
Se eg^szs^, se munka nincsen; 



THE TWA BOGS 

Gondolhatod, minfi ez ins^, 
Elgyoiri a bideg s ai 6\t&6g ... 
i.s m^gis, in nem drthetem meg, 
Hogy ttibbnyire el^gedettek 
S der^k leg^ny, csinos leinylca 
Hogy" teremliet iiyen viUgba' I 

CfSAR. 

Aztdn l£sd, mennytre becsmjrlik, 
Megvetik, ^s giinyalva sdrtik ! 
Urainknak nines semmi gondja, 
Kapis, kep^ s mis ily baromra I 
Undorral n^iik a szegdnyt 
Mint egy rossi bdiU Krget in. 
Litiam ^n egy torv^ny-napon 
S a szfvem is fijt mondhatom, 
A p^nztelen szeg^ny bdrl6ket 
A b^rsiedfi mik^p gyOtr^ meg : 
Sajtolta, szidta, fenyegette. 
Testi ruhiikat lesTcdte .,, 
S fik szem-Iesiitve ^ICak att, 
Mind ii\l s reszketve hallgatott ... 

Ldtom ^n, mint dlnek a di^sak ; 

Oh a szeg^ny n^p nyomorult csak. 

LUATH. 

Nem oly nyomorult, mint te hinn^ 
Bir a nyomor si^lin iUl mind^, 
De oly szokott mdr az neki, 
Hogy ha Wtja, nem rettegi. 
A mint a sors v£[ltozva Torga, 
Hoi jiil, bol rosszul megy a dolga ; 
TbrOdik bir, OrOmte vdrja 
A nyugalomnak egy sugira : 

Elt^nek driga vfga^za : 
HQ neje, sok szdp magzata, 
Busikes^ge a fecsegfi T\ip, 
Mely vele a tOibely k6r^ l^p. 



3o8 BURNS IN HUNGARIAN 

S mfg egy pir filler ix?L sertOL 
Benn5k a v^r iidGlve serdCL 
On gondjokat fflre teszik, 
Orsz^g s templom dolgdt iizik; 
Sz61nak patr6nusr61, papokr61 
S sziv6kben egy-eg^' kis harag sz61 ; 
Vagy emlftik az tij ad6kat 
S a Londonban vigadoz6kat 

Ha j6 Mindszent, a d^rlepett, 
Ulnek vfg 6szi iinnepet : 
A fbldmives minden felfil 
Egy k5zos mulatsdgra gydl ... 
Vigadnak, tr^filnak, szeretnek, 
S minden foldi gondot felednek 

6rv^n viddm dj ^v napot, 
Hidegt61 ajt6t zdrnak ott. 
Pdrolg a til ^s ithat6 
Fiist5t filj a pipdzgat6, 
A burn6t-szelenczdt pedig 
K^zr61-kdzre kerengetik. 
A v^nje nagy Mtran cseveg, 
Az ifja Idrmizik, fecseg... 
Ezt Idtva ^n is j61 mulattam 
S dr6momben vel5k ugattam. 

De azt nagy igazdn mondod, 
Hogy dgy n^zik, mint bolondot 
Sok ember van becsiiletes, 
Hfis^ges, jdmbor, ^rdemes, 
A ki n^lkiiloz— semmi^rt, 
Egy alacsony gaz kedvi^rt, 
Mert azt hiszi, hogy n^mi j6t hoz, 
Csatlakozni eg^ olyas-urhoz, 
Ki a parlamentben kivdn 
Segfteni Britannidn. 

CiESAR. 

Pajtis 1 nem ismered te a bajt ; 
Britanniin segit? ... no majd ! majd I 



THE TWA DOGS 

Mondd inkjbb : megy a ministerrcl 
Szavazni nemmel vagy igennel ; 
Virja szinhdza, fdnyes bilja, 
Kjityjzik s a kblcsQnt csindlja -, 
Avvagy ha kedve tartja ip: hit 
Calaisba, vagy Hadgiba l^p ix, 
Korutat tesi s tovjbb voniil, 
Viligot lit, bon tottl tanilL 

Majd B^sbe, vagy Versaillcsba m^ 
S tiiltesi 33. apja br&k^n, — 
Vagy Madridba vesii ai dtat, 
Guitirt jJtszik, bik^kon mlUaL 
LeszlU Italiiba onnan, 
K^jt vaddszva myrtus bokorban. 
Majd germ^n vizet inni m^gyen, 
Hogy kiss^ szebb s kOv^rebb l^yen, 
S karneval kisasszony okozta 
Bajait fgy tisztdba hozza... 
Britanniin segft ? vesi^lylycl I 
Fiilig adds pazar szest^ylyel. 

LUATH. 

Tytl ! j6 urak, hdt ekk^pen 
Adtok ti tai sok ^n^kenl? 
Minket az^it szfttok, szoplok, 
H(^ legyen mit pusztitnotok ? 

Oh 1 bdr a£ udvart abba' hagyndk 
S magokat itt falun mulaindk; 
Az UT, a b^rlA €% a szolga, 
M^Utnd, bogy jobb Icnne dolga ! 
Sok itt a nyers, bevcs, vagy ^rdes, 
De ^y sines rossz szivl], vesitiyes ; 
A ki fij^t nem tdrdeli 
S kedves^t nem becsm^reli 
S nyullt, foglyit kim^lve IStja, 
A szeg^ny nfp azt sohse bdntja. 
De Csesar mester, monddsia, k^lek, 
Csalcugyan oly gyfinyfirben ^Inek 7 



3 1 o BURNS IN HUNGARIAN 

Nem kinoiza hideg, vagy dhs^g 
S nilok annak fi^lelme sines m^? 



C/ESAR. 

Volndl csak ott, h^ ! hoi magam la ! 
Nem irigyelkednd az urakra. 
6hvel, h6vel nem gyStri meg 
Nydri meleg, t^li hideg, — 
Nem is t6r6dnek zord munkdval 
^s a v^nkor aggodalmdval : 
De hdt az ember oly bolond, 
B61csess^e aldlrmit mond, 
Hogy ha bajok red nem hdgnak, 
Maga csindl 6 bajt magdnak 
S ha valami csek^lys^ ^ri, 
Mdr azt mindjdrt kett6zve m^ri. 

Paraszt fiu, eke mellett, 
FSldj^t szintva, el^gedett ; 
Paraszt leiny, rokkdjdndl 
Bizony boldog 6xiX szdmldl : 
Amde az ur s az uri n6 
Kinja heverve eg>'re n6. 
L^zengenek, fdradtan, csiigg^e, 
Mintha szdmyok a foldre fiiggne. 
Nappalok unott, rest, izetlen, 
itjjelok hosszu, zord, kietlen ... 
Jdtdk, bdl ^s verseny-lovaglds, 
F^ny, pompa, kincs semmit sem ^r: 
Orom szivokhoz alig €x, 

A f^rfiak ki-kirdndulva 
Tobz6dnak szdmyen, szinte di!ilva, 
^jente isznak, k^jelegnek, 
Mdsnap pedig fetrengve ny6gnek. 

A holgyek meg* kardltve jdmak, 
Mintha mind testv^rek volndnak: 
De halld csak, kiilon mit besz^lget, 
Oket akdr sdtinnak v^lhedd. 



The 



THE TWA DOGS 

Mikor nyelvQk megeredt miir jdl, 
Isinak a botrdny poharibiSl, 
Vagy ^jjel mind merSn tiit be 
Ai 6rd6g festeit konyvftje, 
Koczkdra nagy ^rt^ket raknak 
S fel nem kOtOtt gonoszkdnt csalnak. 
Van kiv^tel nfl, Krii cgy-egy, 
De az urak ^ete igy megy. 
Akkor taix a nap is leszillt, 
S az ^j mindig bamdbbra vdlt 
Lassan liimmcjgdtt a bog^r, 
Tch^n ai 61ban bfige mir... 
Fiil'rizva keltek zz ebek, 
Srijlv^n, hogy ncm cmberek. 
Mindenik azzal ment utjdra, 
Talilkoznak majd nem sok^ra ! 



^b)re00 to s JRimee. 



is very well done, and requires no criticism. The veise 
beginning " But, mousie, thou art no thy lane," which 
so many translators spoil, is rendered with singular terse- 
ness and fidelity. 

EGY EGERHEZ, 

melyet f^szk^b^l az ekevas kifordftott, novembcr 17E5. 
F^Mnk, rejtezfi kis bohd, 
Szivecskfd most mint rctteg ! i5h 
Nc riadj meg ily kSnnyedin, 
Ne fuss m^g el, 
Nem Uzlek, meg nem Click ta 
0szt5k^meL 

A term^zet kStelAit 
Az cmberek sz^tt^ptA itti 
Ez^rt kerlllsz tc engemet, 
Csak e miatt, 



312 BURNS IN HUNGARIAN 

Szeg^ny foldi testv^redet, 
Por-tirsadaL 

Tolvajka vagy, tudom, mivel 
Ten^ked is csak €\n\ kell : 
Egy-k^t kaldsz a k^vdb61 
Nem nagy hidny, 

« 

El^ marad nekem m^ fol 
Annak hiin ! 

Kis hajl^od romban hever, 
Sz^tddlt faldt sz^l sopri el. 
S bogy djat ^p(ts, mix ahoz 
Nines zold fCiszdl : 
Fagyot Deczember napja hoz, 
Viharja szdll. 

Littad, bogy puszta a mez6 
S a t^l is gyorsan erkcz6 ; 
Itt remdlt^l biztos helyet, 
Hoi megnyughass ; 
S recscs ! osszezuzta fi^szkedet 
Az ekevas. 

Gazb61 k^sziilt kis rejteked 
Sok rdgcsdldsba van neked : 
Most vdge mdr! dult fedel^t 
fm' elhagydd, 

Hogy tCird a td havas szel^t, 
Rideg fagydt 

Nem csak magad vagy, j6 eg^r ! 
Kin^l eszdly, gond mit sem ^r: 
Ember s eg^r legszebb terve 
Gyakran csaI6 

S 6r6m helyett biit, keservet 
Nyujt a vald. 

S jobb enyimn^ a te v^ged ; 
Csak a jelen gy6t6r t<5ged : 



ADDRESS TO A MOUSE 313 

De ob I siemem a multakon 
Gyiszt siemt^ in 
S a jtivfi, bir nem lithatotn, 
Aggasit, r^miL 

Mr. L^vay is equally successful with the songs and 
ballads, though he does not adhere so ikithfully to the 
original as in the poems. 

Jl JRitn'0 X JRsn tax a' that. 

All through, this translation creates an unfavourable 
impression, caused by the very faulty rendering of 
" Our toils obscure and a' that ; 
The rank is but the guinea's stamp, 
The man's the gowd for a' that," 
which is made to read — 

" Bdr sorsunk dtka terhel ... 
Rang a p^ninek czifrija csak, 
De eiiistje ai ember." ' 

There are other lines showing that Mr. L^vay has been 
far from being in his best mood when translating this 
piece. We can only hope that the spirit which is fairly 
retained may in its new embodiment make itself felt 
among his countrymen. 

CSAK AzisTlS... 
Hit a sieg^ny m4r, mert swg^ny, 
Az^rt gSrnyedve jirjon P 
Hagyjuk az ily hitviny leg^nyt 
S legyiink sieg^yek bdtran... 

' Although the curse of our bte oppresiei ns. 
The isnk ii only the gold's embeUiihment, 
But the lilvcr ii the msn. 



3^4 



BUKNS IN HUNGARIAN 

Am az^rt is, csak az^rt is ! 
Bdr sorsunk dtka terhel ... 
Rang a p^nznek czifrdja csak, 
De eziistje az ember. 

HaMr az asztalunk kopdr 
S ruhdnk sok foltot ismer ... 
Tartsa meg mds selym^t, bordt, 
Az ember m6gis ember. 
Am az6rt is, csak az^rt is ! 
Mindhasztalan csilldmlasz, 
A ki der^k, ha szeg^ny is, 
Csak az^rt is kirdly az. 

Im ndzd ! az a f^nyes nagy ur 
Mi biiszk^n, g6gdsen l^p ; 
Hajlong el6tte a tomeg, 
Pedig bang6, iires k^p. 
Am azdrt is, csak az^rt is, 
Rendjelei daczdra, 
A fiiggetlen derdk ember 
Kaczagva n^z redja. 

Hitvdny szolgdt a fejdelem, 
Herczegg^ is emelhet : 
De embert dm, becsiiletest, 
Hatalma sem teremthet 
Am az^rt is, csak az^rt is, 
F^ny, m^It6sdg daczdra, 
£16bb val6 a szfv, az ^sz, 
Nagyobb annak az dra. 

Imddkozzunk, hogy jdjj5n cl, 
£1 is jon m^g a jobb kor... 
Jdll^t s kitiintet^sre majd 
Sztv 6s ^rdem jut akkor. 
Am az^rt is, csak az^rt is, 
Az isten m^g megadja, 
Hogy embertdrsdt az ember 
Testver gyandnt fogadja ! 



^ 



SCOrS, WJiA HAE 



Scais, mhn hat- 
He alters the iirst two lines, 

" Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, 
Scots, wham Bruce has aften led," 
into 

" Skfttok, kiknek v&e mi.z 
Bruce- s Wallace-sia] omle Mr" j' 

thereby somewhat weakening their strength. And the 
last verse is not equal to the others, and departs too far 
from the original : 

" Vessien a gfigfis bitor 

S a zsarnok, ki rdnk tipor ; 

A szabads^ ^rja forr 

S ^1, vagy hal velem ! " * 
lacks altogether the precision and vigour of 

" Lay the proud usurpers low I 
Tyrants fall in every foe ! 
Liberty's in every blow I 
Let us do or die," 

BRUCE SzSzATA. 

Skdtok, kiknek v^re mir 
Bruce- s Wallace-szal 5mle bir; 
Fbl ! fen a vdr igya v4r, 
Vagy a gyfiielem. 
Itt az iSra, itt a nap... 
Csatarend dll ott alatt, 

' Scots, whose blood already 

With Bruce and Wallace hai freely flowed. 
* Annihilate the ran usniper 

And the tyianl who treads upon u ; 

The stTcam of freedom U tcaitering (or ipreading), 

And live or die with me. 



3 1 6 BURNS IN HUNGARIAN 

G6g6s Edvdrd j6, halad— 
Rabldncz s gyotrelem. 

Ki lenne gaz drul6? 
Ki lenne gyivdn hal6? 
Hitvdny rab s alival6? 
Az el innen ! el. 

A ki hon- s kirdlyra ad 
S ^rett5k kardot ragad. 
All vagy, elhull mint szabad: 
Az jfijjon velem 1 

Gydsz rabiga kinjai, 
Fiaitok Idnczai 
Hivnak itt v^rt ontani — 
Int a g^'6zelem ! 

Vesszen a g6gos bitor 
S a zsarnok, ki rink tipor; 
A szabad sdg irja forr 
S ^1, vagy hal velem ! 

^ttlb S«"9 <SB^' 
This title is too much for Mr. L^vay, as for the other 
translators, and so he renders it " The Long Past Time." 
However, with the exception of "We twa hae paidl't i* 
the bum," and ** Surely ye'll be your pint stoup," and one 
or two other instances of a strong Scottish flavour, the 
translation is very creditable. 

A rAgi m6lt id6... 

Feledjiik-^ a r^gi j6t 
S ne emlegessiik 6t 1 
Feledjiik-^ a r^gi j6t, 
A r^gi mdlt id6t? 

A mult id6re, kedvesem, 

A r^ mijlt id6re, 

Emeljiink viddm poharat 

A r^ miSlt id6re ! 



AULD LANG SYNE 

Egyiitt bolyonglunk a mezOn, 
Vir^ait szeddk ; 
De terhes utunk is vala... 
Elmuluk az idfik 1 

Egyiitt locsolt rdnk a patak, 
Ax estig hdsilO ; 

Majd egy tenger nyomult kOidnk... 
R^ elmlilt ai idS I 

Itt a kezem, adsza ce is, 
Egyiitt dlljunk eld... 
Egy kociczantSst mcg^rdemel 
A r^gi mult id6. 

Te sem riadsz meg, tn sem Am, 
A telt kancsi} elfitt, 
Viddm pohirral ^Itessiik 
A idgi mOlt iddL 

A mdlt iddre, kedvesem, 

A r^ millt iddre, 

Emeljiink viddm pohaiat, 

A r^ tniilt idfire ! 



Jtts jtannu's stna'. 
This is a line translation, being given " My Nannie is 
not with me." 

NINCS NANNI VELEM ... 

A term^zet im^ mir zOld mezet 61t, 
S bSrSnysereg ^11 vigan a mezAt... 
Madarak idvezIA daldt tigyelem ; 
Engem nem udlt az — nines Nanni vclem 1 

Sz^ tarka virdg nyiEt erddnk pagony^ 
Reggeli harmat reng a friss ibolyin; 
Ah ! illatokon csak v^rztk kebelem, 
Nannim jut etaembe — nines Nanni velem. 



3 1 8 BURNS IN HUNGARIAN 

Pacsirta, ki faldr6l felszdllva korin, 
Zenged a juhisznak, hogy itt a kordny, — 
S bama ng6, kivel az estve jelen, 
Ah 1 hallgassatok el — nines Nanni velem. 

Jer, bds-komoly 6sz, te ! jer sdrga level ! 
S enyhfts az eny^szet biis k^peivel ; 
Zord, ndma, havas t^l — most azt kegyelem. 
Most mdr az iidit csak — nines Nanni velem. 



is exquisitely rendered. The fine touch in the second 
verse, so often missed by translators, is felt by Mr. L^vay, 

" I sigh'd, and said amang them a', 
* Ye are na Mary Morison.' " 

being given — 

" Sohajtva sz61tam : nem, nem ! ez 
Egyik se Morison Mari 1 " * 

MORISON MARI, 

Jer ablakodhoz, oh Mari, 
Im' a bizalmas 6ra k^r ; 
Mosolygva rdd pillantani 
A diSs kines^n^l tdbbet ^r. 
Orommel tilm^k bdrmi bajt, 
Neh(^z rabsdgot h6 napon, 
Ha tudndm, hogy dijdba majd 
Sz^p Morison Marit kapom. 

Minap, hogy zendiilt a zene 
S tdnezt61 rengettek a falak, 
Lelkem esak hozzAd r6ppene, 
Csak t^ged, t^ged Uttalak... 

^ Sighing, I said, No, no ; none 
Of these is Mary Morison. 



MARY MORISQN 

Bdr sz^p ez, ai meg kellemcs, 
Ezt eg^sz viros ismeri, 
Sohajtva sz61tam ; nem, nem ! ei 
Egyik se Morison Mari 1 

Oh I Mari, mtfrt gyStSrai hilt 
Ez drted balni k^ szivet, 
Melyben nem Uthatsz mis hiMt, 
Csak azl : hogy tdgedet szeret? 
Sterelmem^rt szereimedet. 
Ha meg nem osithatod vclem ; 
Szinj legallbb \ hlsz nem lehet 
Morison Mati azivtelen ! 



Jlot) fitntlg, ^toMt Jlftim 

is rendered with equal beauty and fidelity, though slightly 
marred by " sweet " being omitted and " Afton " only 
used. 

FOLVJ CSENDESEN, AFTON. 

Folyj csendesen, Aflon, zbld partok SMn, 
FolyJ csendesen ; e dalt zengem neked ^n. 
Ldsd, Marim itt szenderg ; mfg szendere tart, 
Folyj csendesen, Afton ! ... iXmkX. ne zavard. 

Vad gerle, ne biigjon a volgybe' szavad ; 
FiittyCis baroa rig6 a bokrok alatt 
S l>6bds bibicz, a mely visit, felesel : 
Mig kedvesem alszik, hallgassatok eL 

Melletted, oh Aflon, halmot balom ^r, 
S tdvolra kitetszfin lejt rajta ax ^r ... 
Itt d^lben a tijat nyakamba veszem, 
Nydjam', s Mari h&tix bdmulja siemem. 

Mell^ked oly Aes, a vQlgy iide zSId, 
ErdAn kikiricstdl tarkdUik a iSiA \ 
Gyakran ha a langy est a t^t f^i xd&x, 
Engem s Marit itt a nytr illata six. 



320 BURNS IN HUNGARIAN 

Kristdly habod, Afton, kedvtelve keriil 
S kigy6zva Marimnak kis hdza koriil: 
H61dbdt mi k^jjel fur5szti vized, 
Mfg tarka virdgot bijos keze szed. 

Folyj csendesen, Afton, zdld partok dl^n, 
Folyj csendesen ; e dalt zengem neked €n ; 
Ldsd Marim itt szenderg : mfg szendere tart : 
Folyj csendesen, Afton s dlmdt ne zavard ! 



Oh, aSnt ^hxm in the Canlb l^laet. 

In some lines the translator has here allowed himself 

a little more licence, and is accordingly not quite so 

felicitous in his rendering. 

" My plaidie to the angry airt, 
Pd shelter thee, Td shelter thee." 

is rather prosaically given — 

" Betakamdlak ^n t^li 
Nagy kend6mmel, nagy kend6mmeL"* 

Then " sae black and bare," referring to the " wildest 
waste," he renders " elhagyottan " (forsaken), referring 
not to the "waste," but to the individual. With these 
exceptions, it is very well given. 

OH HA JARNAL OTT A PUSZtAn ... 

Oh ha jdmdl ott a pusztdn, 
Zord id6vel, zord iddvel, 
Betakarnilak ^n t^li 
Nagy kend6mmel, nagy kendfimmeL 
Vegy ha balsors b6sz viharja 
6rne teged, drne t^ged, 
M^rge ellen keblem adna 
Meneddket, mened^et 

^ I would cover thee 
With my large winter cloak, with my large winter cloak. 



OH, WERT THOU IN THE CAULD BLAST 

Voln^k bdi' vad kietlenben 
Elhagyottan, elhagyottan. 
Ha. Dtt voln^l, paradicsom 
Lenne ottan, lenne otian ; 
Vagy ha veled ura volndk 
A vilignak, a vilignak, 
Legsiebb gybngye csak te lenn^l 
Koronlmnak, koron^mnak. 



^ Sri, Urb Host. 
Like so many others, Mr. L^vay misses the poetic touch 
of the repetition of the adjective "red." Otherwise the 
translation is fairly good. 

SZERELMEM, MINT PISOS ROZSA ... 

.Sicrelmem mint piros rdtsa, 

Mely mitjusban fakad ; 

Sjerelmem, mint egy lengem^ny, 

Mely ^des hangot ad. 

A mily sz^p vagy, si^p kedveseui, 

Oly h6n szereilek ^n, 

Szeretiek, mig ki nem sidrad 

A tenger, fenek^n. 

Mig a tenger ki nem sz^rad 

S a btircz nem olvad el ; 

Szeretiek, mig csak ^letem 

Utolsdt nem leheL 

Isien bozzid, egyetlenem, 

£lj boldogul, remdlj ! 

Szdz mdrfdldrdl is megjiiv<jk 

Hozidd, kedves, ne f^lj ! 



John ^itlttTSOn 

is rendered with much fidelity and pathos, but he also 
will drag in the "eye," and thereby almost spoils the 



322 BURNS TN HUNGARIAN 

character of the song : as I have already pointed out, such 
references are quite incorrect, and not in the originaL 
Thus we have 

" Your bonnie brow was brent ; 
But now your brow is held, John," 

entirely left out, and the following undesirable lines 
substituted — 

" Szdp szemed csupa Idng. 
Most bdgyadt a szemed, John." ^ 

JOHN ANDERSON 

John Anderson, szivem John, 
Mid6n taldlkoz^nk, 
Hajad hoUdszinti volt, 
Sz^p szemed csupa Idng. 
Most bdgyadt a szemed, John, 
Hajad meg* h6feh^r: 
De dldis 6sz fejedre, 
John Anderson, az^r' ! 

Egyiitt jSvdnk, szivem John, 

A hegytetfire fel, 

S vig napjainkat is, John, 

Egyutt t5lt5ttuk el. 

Most lefeld meg^nk, John, 

De k^zfogvdst, hiven ; 

S ott lent egyutt is alszunk, 

John Anderson, szivem ! 

^0 JRarg in Igmben. 

Mr. L^vay, as is to be expected, produces a very read- 
able ballad, but in several instances he greatly lacks 
in it fidelity to the originaL 



^ Thy beautiful eye all aflame, 
Now thine eye is dim, John. 



TO MARY /.V HEAVEN 



" Thou lingering star, with less'ning ray, 
That lov'sl to greet the early morn," 



is very feebly rendered by 



whilst 
rendered 



" Halvjny csitlag, mely reszketfi 
Sugdrt vetsz a hajnalra, Im'," ' 

" Seest thou thy lover lo*Iy laid ? 
Heai'st thou the groitns that rend his breast .' ' 

" Merengsi-e hfvcd bdnatdn ? 
Hallod>e ^rted mint eped ? " ' 



is rather absurd, and hearing one pining or longing is a 
mixed figure of speech quite beneath Mr. L^vay's usual 



MARWOZ A7. EGBBN. 

Halvjny csiltag, mely reszketd 
Sugirt veisz a hajnalra, (m' 
Veled megint az a nap jd, 
Mely tdlem clrabli Marim. 
Oh Man ! eltijnt kedves irny. 
Hoi van dicsdiilt lakhelyed? 
Merengsz'C hfved bdnatan ? 
Hallod-e ertcd mint eped? 

Mik^t, mikijnt feledhctnem 
Ama sienteli 6rrit s meziit, 
Hoi a csavarg6 Ayr menten 
Szerelmunk bucsu-napja t61t? 
Az oroM^t ahoz keves ■■• 
Emldkben i\ a r^gi l^ng, 
Kdped s a v^g-61elkez^s— 
Ah ! hogy v^gsd, nem gondnldnk ! 

' Thou pale star, that ihrows a tremblint; ny 

Upon the dawn o( day. 
* Dost thou muK upon thy lover's lorrow ? 

Heikjeat thou how he pinet (ur longt) Ua lh«e ? 



314 BUftNS m HUNGARIAN 

Aa Ayr csSrtigve csdkoM 
Kavicspa.rtjjt z6ld fik QMn, 
Szerelmesen csiiggfitt aid 
lUatos nyfr s feh^r kSWny. 
KrfjtSl virult ki a virig, 
Madir szerelmct ^nekett, 
Mfg piros alkony inte nbik, 
Hogy a rSvid si^ nap leielt, 

Leikem viraszl e k^peken, 
S a bu-gond uiintelen gyotfir, 
Mint a folyd, mcly medriben 
Idfivel mind m^lyebbre tOr, 
Oh Mari, elliint kedves drny. 
Hoi van dicsfiult Ukhclyed? 
Merengsz-e hived bdnatdn? 
Hallod-e, ^rted mint eped ? 

I close the examination of Mr. L^vay's work with \ 
example of a humorous piece : 



This is exceedingly well done. Any slips are trifling. 

" Gart poor Duncan stand abeigb," 
he oddly renders — 

" Sieg^ny Duncan, jaj neki ..."' 
which greatly interferes with the complete picture of Meg's 
behaviour on that occasion ; and to read 

" Margit stiket, mint a rbg," ' 
for 

" Meg was deaf as Ailsa Craig," 

is rather comical to those who know what Ailsa Craig is. 
The above defects, it will be seen, are seldom serious, 

' Poor Duncan, >las for him 1 

* Margaret b deaf ai a clod of earth. 



DUNCAN GRAY 325 

and I only point them out as slight blemishes in an 
excellent version of Burns. Mr. L^vay has evidently a 
strong poetic nature, and deserves well of his countiymen 
for having added such a contribution to their literature. 
I part from him with regret I should like to have 
added a larger number of pieces, but space prevents 
me, especially having regard to the necessarily limited 
number of Englishmen and Scotsmen acquainted with 
the Hungarian language. 

DUNCAN GRAY. 

Duncan Gray linyWmi m^n, 

K^rdben, ha, ha 1 
Vig kardcsony 6jje)tfn, 

K6r6ben, ha, ha I 
Margit fejft folveti, 
F^l vjllrdl n^zegeti, 
Szegfny Duncan, jaj neki ... 

K^rdben, ha, ha! 

Duncan kSr ^s konyfirCg, 

K^rdben, ha, ha I 
Margit siiket, mint a rbg, 

K^rdben, ha, ha ! 
Duncan sohajl, mint a sz^l, 
Kft szemfbcn kdnyje k^l ; 
Vizbe ugrik, ilgy besz^l, 

K^rSben, ha, ha 1 

Sors, idfi csak ilr-apiUy ... 

K^rdben, ha, ha ! 
Megvetett szfv fijva fflj, 

K6r«ben, ha, ha ! 
Majd, ligymond, bolond teszek, 
S egy gfigdsdrt elveszek,! 
Hadd sialadjon — mist vesiek, 

K^ben, ha, ha 1 



BVKNS IN HUNGARIAN 

Alt az orvos fejtse meg : 

K^rAben, ha, ha \ 
Duncan dp, Margit beteg, 

KrirAben, ha, ha i 
Uciai ^rez n^mi bajt, 
Oly megbindlag sobajt, 
Szeme mdr olyan kihalt... 

K^r^ben, ha, ha i 

Duncan jd siit'Q &&; 

KdrSbcn, ha, ha ! 
M argil sorsa szomoru, 

Kdrdben, ha, ha ! 
Hogy ne l^yen halni ok, 
Duncan siCve ieXAobog 
S most mindketien boldogok, 

KA-Aben, ha, ha 1 



RUSSIAN. 

There is no separate volume of the works of Bums pub- 
lished in this laDguage, but with the aid of Russian friends 
I have discovered no fewer than nine magazines and 
books in which appear snatches of translations of songs 
and poems, translations of criticisms and sketches, in- 
cluding one by Thomas Carlyle. The best and greatest 
number of pieces is in a volume entitled "English Poets 
in Biographies and Examples," collected by Nk. V. 
Gerbel, published in St. Petersburg, 1875.1 

This work contains a short notice of the poet's life, and 
eleven translations of some by no means representative 
pieces. Amongst them, however, is 

%ht dottat's Siatniliss ^tsht,* 

by V. KostomarolT. He omits five out of the twenty-one 
verses, and though he works out a pretty picture, it is 
rather a work inspired by Bums than a version of his 



'Arn'mHcRie Iloani m, Biorpaifinn. h 06pasttaxi. Cocrasiurb 
Hhr. Bac rep6aii>. CaHRTnneptSrprb, Taoori^ifl A. M. KoroKaaa, 
1875- 

'CTMoTHiS Beqepb IIocMfiHHBa. 



328 BUFJifS IN HVSSIAN 

poem. I take two of the verses which arc renderet 
most literally — 

BcTf^ZTb 3ft OTunin>. no.T!&co!rb .iiiiub noajHhe, 
n cHHOBsa npiiio.inrb nai rem ; 
O^Bin. naiarii; Apj'roit, nocxuui.ieaHtP. 
Ha apxapiA yoaatHBaxb ;i&i&. 
HoTDin n Jlaieiri wn, ropo;ia npHiiLia: 
Kam lie npiurn, Konia aa ael! o6Hoiial 
Ho «uiii fn. Ahcohi ceHUD Vb nyiia-fc iiaiiua, 
nortpbTB Hat, no, ae cicaaaMiin ciona, 
TpfJtom xoduToe cettqoci ot;i!iti> roiuEia.' 

and the eighteenth verse, with which he closes the poem— 

Toraa c* atTwin iTapnKtHjreai. nponw-im, 
II na noKoli im bc^h G;iarociaKurJn> ; 
Konta-xui 03nin> et »ci 
Oin> ciioBa Bn> nparb r.iaaj choh 
Ilpexb Ttm., Kro nrflai. corptrt 
H Bb (kiecKi oat-Tb ttabru iiopphhiiii an.iift. 
ItoCtIi Oetl nn Bctn HacyuiKufI uMb nuci 
liofrb Bct Era CoaaRCii n JtnGn.in 
II viA Era 3aB^TE> ai cepjuiarL eitoitxit ipanii.in.- 



' Behind the filhei, scarcely hult'Sn-bour laler. 

The sons come from the village: 

The one has been at [he plough, (he other cleverly 

Did bit business at the fair. 

Then Jetui from the town came in, 

Why should she not come, when she has a new iliess. 

But if Jean had found the family in need, 

Believe me, that not sayine a word, 
.She would have been ready to give that which she had acquired 
with labour. 
'Then ibe bther to the children said good-night, 

And blessed ihem all for their nightly rest ; 

And when alone with his wife 

He again in prayer Ixnl his head 



THE COTTARS SATURDAY NIGHT 319 

These are given for 

" Belyve, the elder bairns come drapping in. 

At service out, amang the fanners roun' ; 
Some ca' the pleugh, some herd, some tentie rin 

A cannie errand to a neebor town : 
T^eir eldest hope, their Jenny, worn an -grown. 

In youthfu' bloom, love sparkling in her e'e, 
Comes hame, perhaps to shew a braw new gown. 

Or deposit her sair-won penny-fee, 
To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be." 

" Then homeward all take off their sev'ral way ; 

The youngling cottagers retire to rest ; 
The parent-pair their secret homage pay. 

And proffer up to heaven the wann request, 
That He who stills the raven's clam'rous nest, 

And decks the lily fair in flow'ry pride, 
Would, in the way His wisdom sees the best. 

For them and for their little ones provide. 
But chiefly, in their hearts with grace divine preside." 

and will convey to the reader an idea of what the less 
literal renderings are like. 

In one or two instances Russian ideas are introduced 
for Scottish. It is the father, not the mother, who is 
anxious about Jenny. And it is the mother, not the 
father, who conducts their family worship. In these 
respects this reproduction is unfaithful to the great 
picture of Bums. 



Before Him who warmi aud feeds the birds 
And cloihei the spring lilies with glory. 
That He would send them all their duly bread. 
That ill might lore >ih1 feat Him, 
And that they all might keep His law in theit heaiti. 



33© 



BUKA'S IN RUSSIAN 



..." n B,ipyrL 
BcH BcnuxHYja . . . JlK)6Bn pyxHHem* a.iuil 
Orua BcrpeBoacHTB ; ho ero ncnyn> 
npomojTb cett^iacb se: rocib htb sano^saauft 
(Oin> 3Hajn> ero AaBHo) 6fiLTb cKpoBfHutt, HecTuuit niiiufl.^ 

does duty for 

" The wily mother sees the conscious flame 

Wi' heart-struck, anxious care inquires his name, 

While Jenny hafflins is afraid to speak. 

Weel pieas'd the mother hears, it's nae wild, worthless rake." 



and 



A Maib „noMoxnMCH!" TopiKecTBeHHo cKasaja.* 



is how 



"*And let us worship God/ he says with solemn air." 
is given as more congenial to Russian custom. 



^he JfoUp Ipeggaw, 

by P. Weinberg. This piece resembles the original much 
more than does the "Cottar's Saturday Night," but no 
attempt is made to get the exact equivalent for the Scottish 
expressions. The songs are well rendered, though there 
are one or two odd exceptions. In telling of the soldier's 



^All transpires, the purple ray of love 
Made htx father restless, bat his fear 
Passed away immediately — their recent guest 
(He has known him some time) is a modest, honest man. 

■And the mother solemnly says, "Let us pray." 



THE fOLL Y liEGCARS 33 1 

"scars" he indicates that wives or women (the words 
will bear either interpretation) can hold their own in 
Russia as elsewhere, and wilfully or uDwittiaglj' mis- 
interprets 

"This here was for a wench," 
mpan BpfOiUft 6b(>b irat,' 

The Meny Andrew's song is very well done, but the 
translator is rather unhappy with the last two lines — 

" The chiel that's a fool for himsel', 
Gude Lord, is far dafter than I." 

which he renders 

rjiynult n<™ ce6» lama, jibiho, 

These being the least faithful parts of the translation, 
however, indicate the fidelity with which the rest of the 
song is given. 

The song "Whistle owre the Lave o't" he alters most 
absurdly, by the reference to an Eastern habit indicative 
of contempt, 

..rbeBarii ua BrP."' 

Then the well-known chorus — 

" A tig for those by law protected I 
Liberty's a glorious feast! 
Courts for cowards were erected, 
Churches built to please the priest," 

'The scar I got Iroin my wife (er ■ woman). 
'A blockhead who is stupid only for himtelf, 

Ii a hundred times mote itupid than L 
*Sfii on all. 



332 



BURNS IN RUSSIAN 



he gives in true Russian imagery and phraseology — 

jjIIpo^B Bcik, KOMy saKoiTb no BKycyl 
CBo6oAa— CB^TJOid npaa^HHicB nairb! 
Cyau npiflTHM tojibko ipycy, 
MoHacTupH— OAHHirb xanacaii'L!"^ 

There are several other small defects : the above are 
the most prominent, and will show their character. 

BECEJIUE HHmiE. 

YlKh SSLCZhSl XCOJITUfl (Tb B'^TSeft 

JleTnrb na seiuno h Eopett 
AepeBbfl rojiuH Kanaen*, 
Jlyra oji^jn> noKpoBi> c^olk 
H yxcb MoposevL MOJioAoft 
IIopflAOHHO KycaeTB. 

BoTB BT. 9Ty nopy, BeHepKOirt, 
KpyacoKi Becejiott 6paTbH nnmcit 
CoCpajicfl Kb Ilyan HaHcn Brb aoui* 
IIoaHpoBaTb 3a cKy^Hoft niimcn 
PI Becejio nponHTb CBoe 
nocji'fe;^Hee ipanbe. 

Xoxoiyrb ohh n ropjianjiTb, 
H ntcHH noioTb, h cBHcnirb, 
H TaiTb no cTOJiaiTb 6apa6aHHTb, 
HtO CTJ^HU zapHeBHH Apo3Rarb. 

y ne^KH Bi> joxMOTbflX'b 6arpoBaro UBtra 

CoJiAarb nouicTHJicfl ; Ha Heirb 
KoTOMKa, Ha6HTafl z:rb6oMi>, Ha^^xa . . . 

CHAHTb 0H1», 06HflBniHCb, BABOCUl 

Ob cBoeio Jiio6e3Hoft icpacoTKoft. 
Corptiaa njiaxbeirb h boakoA, 

^Away with all who have a taste for law, 
Freedom is for us a bright feast. 
Courts are only pleasant to the coward, 
Monasteries only to the hypocrites {or bigots). 



THE JOLL Y BEGGARS 

C* BOBTMiH tuasn. He cnyeBaen. oua. 
H, »wino ocRuiRBnni ayCu, 
Ben ycraan rpnaaiiui r;6u 

Jtp7:Knf nosc»BjiHen>, iciini lapKy bbhs 
H Hb ineKH, H Bi ryCu apyaioKb 
Beai jrcrauB Qapumun— woirL! 
H SBjiBU, Kam rnoaaHbe meiH, 



H BOTb OHH MH3yE)TCH, 
FopJiaHHTi B ItWyiDTCH, 

H ntcmo, HaROBein>i 
Operfc HB&rii MOJlOfleiCb: 

..Hapci KeBH Ha CB^n. pOAB-n.; a bi. c:psifceHi.i»i iiHorHn. ISlui.; 
Borii, cuoTpBTe, mpam 6<uujnoB, son. itapaBBsa n p&aa 1 
IDpurfc BpfOitJia GaSa HBt, paey ^o'^uJi^ Hi Tofl ptsrt, 
Fxib taxsxni jipaHiifscKnrL r bctp^tb.t£ sbtkoitii QapaGana. 

,. Bi. nepBud pa3i> a nofli> pywi>eirb Cijjn> bx tcpoBason j^aib Tom, 
Fa^ ynajTL noS reaepajrb y ACIpuicKaro KyprnHa. 
KoHUTb atyxfiy it cbod bi Tom. ^yxecHtttmeirL Sob, 
Fa^ Uopo CHec-iB coBctiTL Mu Dpn SByiean 6apa6aHa 

„ BuTii B ci KypTiicoiTb, elt-eB, j njioByiHi'L Catapefl ! 
Besi pyRH H fie3% Horn BUmen a wsv, Bpaxcbn nana ; 
Ho ofliiTb crpoHa soBen,— h dobSxii eact DmiioTb, 
H QiKTb BasoBbUflJn a noji sByRo SapaCaBa. 

„HuH^B uuiHwc^b no sexJit, Gen pyiiB, na Kocrujrb, 
Becb Bi, aoiHOTum h rpnaa ; bo itb BycTuin. csoHin BapuaBoui^ 
Bb qapKolt. cTi xfiBoiRoB Hoell. Taioto cHacniHBi- n, eS-«B, 
KaKB ffb rt XHX, Ronta iOAim>, secB bi mBTfat, sa fiapaCaHoirb ! 

„Xon> Hurejib n BfeTepi 3;iolt i^semyrb <itJiiiilt Boio<n> moH, 
Xon. npinn Hoft hbcto— atirt Bat mBpoRan noMHa, 
Ho Boraa, nponavb TpenbH. vaxam Aii6putl iinofniKB b. 
He Somcb, xon> n^nult k^ BCTaBb ops 3&yKaxi> 6apa(>BBa! " 



Ohii KOBqn.Ti,— b ct^hu TpHcytca: 
Tam. Bocn. BeacioBO xopit— 
H Bpaqyrca tcpucu bi. acnyii 
Bi yr.TH DoraSRUue Hopi>. 



334 BUKAS IN KUSS/AN 

„ Encore I " nai. yrna BocidimacTb 
CKpima^it-iiaioA^HHa — n botb 
no;Q)yra BonTe.iH saiBo 
BcKOHnja— n utciiio nocrb: 

„fl 6iiUia KOPAa-TO AtBoit, a Kor;ia— yncb n cana 
no3a6iiua; otl KpacaeucBrb n Tcnepb cxoacy CLyua. 
PoAnaacb h bi> CaiajbOHi^y 6iiIji> Aparynoirb Mott OTem>, 
^t6 HCb 3a jqiBo, eciu Aopon* mh^ cojiAaTnicL-Moao;;cm> ? 

„ IlepBuit Moit ;Q)y:KOKL cepAc^muft BeccihuajcL-MyHcnnHa 6£Lti», 
OiTB TOFAa Fb naiKy ;q>aryHCKOin> 6apa6aiimnKoin> cay^uurb ; 
lUi'KH KpacHUH TaniH, iio»cKa crpoitHaH . . . Bi* KOHem» 
CBcai> ucufl CL yMa uoft Mn.iEiitt, Mott co.xiaTnirb-Maio,icin>. 

,,Uo cxtiuui} coJAaTa cicopo Ao6pbift iiacTopi>-CTapn^eivi>, 
H Ha .pncy npoirbHHja h BoeiiHutt TecanOicb ; 
T-fejioMT. fl pncKiiy.ia, ;tyray bt. xojl nycnurb cBorott otcol — 
H o6iiaHyTLi>rL ocrancfl iioit cojuaTnicb-uojoAevB. 

,,/lo.iro, BiiponoM'L, Cuxh co muok) iie npiiiiLiocb n crapuKy; 
Ha^olkTb oifb— H noiujia a Brb skohu icb utjoMy uojucy. 
BapaGammiKb-Jin, Tpy6aTb-an, crapbiit bohhi> ii.ib nreHevb — 
Bcrt^ji) cayaoLia, .iiniib 6bi tojuco 6bLrb cca;iiaTiiirb-iio;ioAom> ! 

„ Ho Boitna cM-biiiuacb mipoMi) - lyrb » no Mipy iiouLia 
n Ha pbiHJct, no6npaiicb, uapnn 3Toro namaa. 
Bi} uo.iKOBbix'b CBoiix'b JiozMOTbax'b KpacoBaicfl yAaJieui* . . . 
Axi., KaKb n6 cepAuy npiimcicji 3urb caTAaraicb-MCioAeiVb : 

,,IIo;KnJia fl— MHoro-.ib, Ma.io-.ib, n casia ne jhuio a; 

/I^ifl iieHfl orpa^a— n1>cHH u.in MapoHKa mou, 

11 uoiMi aepacaib xy uapicy ciuiy MHt aai.Tb T»oponi», 

IIl.lO 1IJT> Heft TBOO 3;^0p0Bbe, Mott C0.1AaTHKT.-MuJuAei;T» '. * 

Ob fltsnoHKott myrb Aiwpio ciiAli.ib 
Bi> >T.iy; uxi> Ma.10 3aHnMa.io 

Bee TO, HTO XOpi> D'I^Bi;OBI> peHt.Ti>; 

y uuxi> H CBoero He Ma.io. 
Ho, HaK0Heu:b, oui> iiuTb ycTitrb, 
ycraJTb TO^iTb (Tb KpacoTKott Jiflcu; 
II BOTb oni> <!rh Mikra Gbicrpo B(rra.ii> 

II, CKOpUHHl) ABt CMtinHUXl> rpUMUCLl, 



THE JOLLY BEGGARS 

A^wQKf HHOiaiyj^ noanNiKuyjb 
H cb BaamoU poaieft utSHyxi: 

..MppOCTb Bl. lU>BHOin> BH^ft— ffyp», 

UxyTb— aypEurb nepen cjAon., 
A Nena cuu Baryps 
CoTBopHJU ;i;puioin>. 

„Ba(iKa HBt KyiiBJis KOHKicr; 
Ho j^eme Hmcara 
He Honio pUBBTb MfuEnuiucT: 
Ho npipa<sb a ;iy]iain>. 

.,3a BHBO piicKn; a meeD, 
Cb 6a6ott assBb MOH aersa. . . 
JI> wro u wiaTb yintf^ 
On. TBKoro ;(yp«Kii ? 

„3a Kfrean., kucl DopocoBOKi, 
fl ojuu^W csasaHi Gun, 
A cBBiueaHBKb sa AtnoHom. 
noKanHbe huombju. 

.,HaAo HBotl He cmMkci. cTpon: 
P^Ui myTKii a laKODi; 
A 7 HsiTb SI nuATb HHoro 
II cepi^nuTb ATpaBOBb. 

,.A nactopi Haiin? Doy^aen. 
Ci> BawBofl poKen itwoB ; 
Han>, mjTOBb, Bopan, pyriBn.— 
Bee n3i> aaBHcni oanoll 

.,Hy, <noG^ Kouiimi Bcii DpHinno — 
Bunun lo^etca ciwpifl, 
Tayaua wb. <WSfl SBiin. suno, 
B6 cto paai Heiia r^yotB." 

Bcjititi. sa myrdn crapyia eciaaa. 

Oaa OMUHHO a 

Kam. oil 

ysBaiB Vb xtii BCi Dpieyu 

H Cuao eft bi xlhcan 3bbkoi(u 

JlopoHum Dcb B jroiKB. 



336 BURNS IN RUSSIAN 

Eh ApyncoiTb 6i>un> ropem» 6paButt; 
Ho 0H% HamaTb Roeei^ KpoBasuit: 
na.iaTB— yau— KasHiuB ero! 

H BOTB, Fb CJICSOTb, B3AUXa« TJ^'IO, 

3antJia n-i^ceHKy crapyxa 
IIpo JIi»coRa, ropua caoero: 

,,Mott UHJiult 6iiurb ropem» n ropueirB pox^ein*; 
CuoTptjrb na saKOHU cl npeaptmeiTB oitb, 
Ho iciaay po^noMy Cujrb npeAaffb Aymott, 
Moit jfl^iKOHTb HeHarviflAHutt, Mott ropein» jmxofl! 

Xof -[>. 

HoftTe upo xpa6paro A>KOHa! 
Hofire npo xpa6paro AsKoaa! 
HtTB na seM-it ^ejioa^Ka, 
JIio6.iecTHtft xpa6paro .H^oHa! 

„Brh TapTaH0B0Mi> njie;i1>, crb crajibHuirb KymaROBTb, 
Bcer^a onoHcaHHLiit ;^o6pbiirB mbhoitb, 
Bctxi> »ceHmHHi> Ha cBtft njriiHiurb oin> co6oft, 
Mott Jl>K0Hi> HeHar.iHAHuft, Mott ropem> .iHXoit! 

„Mfa[ 3KI1JIU, KO'iyn orb TBHAa ao Cnett, 
KaKb jiopAaiTb n .la^n He marth Becejribil; 
Ob BparaMH 6oH3Hn ne snarb HHRaKott 
Mott Jl^Kowh HeHarJuiAHbitt, Mott ropein> Jmxoft. 

,,H3rua.iH ero n3i> poAHHott seMJin; 
Ho upeag^e, ni^irb CHoaa i^b^^tli sauatjiH, 
H luiaKajia ciajuco: 6burb CHoaa co smott 
Mott J^OHi) HeHar.iHjqibitt, Mott ropeub Jinxoitf 

„Ho, rope! ncAo-iro ryjumocb eny: 
CBHsajm ero ; noca^HJia Fb TiopbMy . . . 
ByAb npoKJiHTLi, Hbeio noBi^meirb pyKoft 
Mott Jl'/KOHb HPnar.THAHbitt, Mott ropevb jiHXottl 

,,Touepb fl BAOBOK) AOJDKHa ropeBaxb, 

^TO paAocrett npeacHHxi> yxcb Mat ae aaAarb — 

H rpycTb paaroaHK) a Hapxott OAHott, 

Mott J1>R0HT> aeaarJinAautt, Mott ropei^b jmxott!^* 



THE JOLL y BEGGARS 



noQie npo xpaCporo ]iyeoYa,\ 
nottre npo ipa6p&ro Jl^am^X 
Elin. Ha s^ui ^mobIuu, 
AoCuiecTH^ ipalSparo J^oHa! 

8a Heft Bcraen. CRpBnaTb-iiosriHini— 

BucoidA -^ocTb noApyiH J^aaa 
(OiTi eft TjTb-iyit H« ao Konfan.) 
H nunoBHa safiptun Tn, la^ai, 
Cep;tiiniiKO Kajuu-AnojooHa. 
Vxh oieBb KpoBbK) 6ujn> ri)pa<[h 
CKprnumi. 

CXBaTHBUIH CKpHDiCy MOIOOTOVli 

H fipaso OMHaucb Kpyrom, 
Ciia^aaa B3ajn> BKRop;[b 6paB7pHuH, 
IIpoASpHym. aoBKO roHiiy oht. 
n, aepeflAH nh HUBopHult torn, 
Hanrb Aii(ki.ioirb imHiaTiopiiiiilt 
SairbiTL CO CKpnDO<ncoa bi. mx^sin, 
PoiiaHin>: 

„IIo3BOJU> Mirb caeabi wsk creperii oh tbohxi oi 

lIoft.TU 33 NBOft BO Oriijb, tjSJi HKIOn MOflfl; 

Toraa bb 67Ae>i>i> sHan. sh crpaia, hh cKopCeft- 
H luwft-ce&b Ha ecu! 



CKpnnaTb — npoi^ecdfl von; 
Ilrpan iraoro ntceirt h — 
H Bctrb npiiniiM jtxi GaGbs 
PoHaHci: i.rUeean. aa ace." 

„no csaAiiCiairb GfAen mu luAuib cii loOoS 
n yTfcl BSKb Be(>!:iD, Kain> caaBHO aasEBom! 
SaSora-naiRTa cryiticb, noacaaylt, Jti, noxh— 
Hun> HsoaeBaTii ha bcc! 

.,Ce» ropH, tSeai ht»au, xoBoabaue cjAbdofl, 
BcB Cfjifim. rptTbcn uii sa cojiHinmA <n> T060H: 



338 BURA-S /X A-C'SSUy 

Ot uycruwh ftflpuaHOMT. jui, ct irnOiiTOD 3b cjuolt — 

.Til vohEO KpoooTolt Beeemon eBOtIi 
M^iin (darocioaa— n Tucfl^n ^pprcn. 
Q TOJ'^XB, H Mopoai He crpaiuuu nut, eH-elt ! 
Haoaion a hu nci5!" 



CspmaTt— npo4>OCris uoa; 
Hrpaw MHoro utcciTb n — 
n Bi;krb npiarnttt ;iiui tiaCbR 

FouaHd: ..lUemiTb sa nee!" 

Oht> oxoimurb, no crapyiii Kparorntt 
BjpTTb KysHein. mttiQ.-iCH jioxilt u jKxnit; 
IIa.ieTkni cl cuoelf pniiiipolt cropKia 
II 3a 6opo3f cxnaTiij'b oiii. CKfiiua'r^ 

tl pyraercH b icistTBU oin> 3aC<Ti>, 
'Im panupoK RacKBoat ero npoTiiKen., 
Er.TU DBii cm Kelt, ocraBH b:ntdH coopi>, 
I iiaKiKii (n>-aTiii'i>-a<ip'i>. 



IToHfpTB^&Tii conciiu'L on. crpaia Apn.uoirb 
H ipHuSicH BBct., Kma. in. ;i(iKopii.iidi om, 
II noQUuni npocHn cb isaaofiHUtrb .iHunm. . . . 
TaKb Bca ccopa nn. u Kuii-iiLiaci. Ra T.)in.. 

Ho, lUTH Kb cepjtsiituKi Biipijosi. crpasa-TK, 
Taujui, Kaift Ryam'in. KpacoiKj oSiiiiMiLTL — 

CA't'lUI. BnjL, PaKBKO, 1T0 lIOUetl'.llLll., 

C.iyiiuui, KAKb nbcHH) oil Kpiieip. 3iuit>Tb: 

..KpacaBHUA una, ktjo we.iliao h. 

Do peMeMy — KyaHOUT.; 
II Bb 3Toin> pcHocrb npouion. no scclt wu.it 

S Ban. Koma in> KOHem. 
il ucro seBUR Gpan. b bi> niMKb 3a Hutt> Bcrfaa-n; 

Ho sepcat ana, rpH ana. 
Kaia XBBbTB noayny, cediact «o yicaiy : 

HdIB BOTOITb ueuHl 



THE JOLL Y BEGGARS 

(Son noamapjienn nocjntiditie leitaipa cmuts.) 
„ 0, xtos-Rpacora ! Gpocb sroro mjrra 

Ol KpnBJUHbHua em! 
SCejiso Kto K^Urb, njcn. npyrosn. ciaaen. ion. 

JifiH cepstu THOero ! 
Bern Biolt KpjWKOtt H K3HBych, TS^m& HOD, 

KOOB lOIb p»7b CO HHOlt 

Tu Gy^ieoib roioxiu, mjoi bdakb JuuueaB, 
JlauKii H3(^0IBH HoQ ! '' 

{XoPT. m)«Bio)i;M))tt noeAHidiiit •Kenu.vpe cmiusa.) 
RjaaeKt noCtan-Ti.- ii ynajia 
Hi. o(ri,aTi>fl crapyxA-KpitcoTKa; 
OrwcTH JDoOoBs B^ Hefl nrpaaa, 
Onscm pacuapBia voija. 
CKpvata.'O; noAHiirHyirb ocrpoyiiHO, 
Cor.ucbH n iiiipa weaserb 
OOiiflBmeltcn napt, a ujhuo 
Ori Kpjacny cboio ocymaen 

Bo s^ipoBbe im ua Hoib! 

Tyrb KpomKa-AMypi paaurpucii : 
MpTHjai offb crpfeiow CBoen^ 
Kb 3aM7»He(t CKpiiDHTb Dn;io6ptuicn 
II Haiarb auypuBq&Ti. <n, ucn. 
CynpyrL, coCecfciHiiifb ToKepa, 

SuttTETb — ■ rp03iioiD XtiBbK 

Ifieity n eH Kaeuepa 
PaaB&rt ohi> d Kpyanoio CpanMO 
Hrb Bupyraji h& aotb'. 

Ohi — napenb hsi cjiuuxt eeceauxii, 
KoKie BCrptiajmcb e,TBa-nn 

Ho 3i[a.-n. oin, ua-ibltiiicR nda-iH. 
Xu.ia3i> OAHoro— BecciRtbOi, 

TdHII.ICH— SHUIIi SKOaCTOn B^IHUJt, 

Ojjui ueiioHiul^ni - KpymmbCH . . . 
H HUTb, BaoxnoBGUBult, 6e3ncHHO 



340 



BURNS IN KVSSfAN 



„n%BeitL He unpult ii, n irtreBBii hoh 
Bb iipeapiHUt y eeauioaib n npoiam taKoro: 
Ho iraoiu iHvitijii as uiinn B<>.i.Th 3cnrn> To.7noft, 
KuA HHAJUicb no cafoQin. Fniiopa aupororo." 



Hf, a npaiaro Bcero, 

IIoTppiLTi OAuy n, 

JlHyrt j-pirh.Ti> H i!oxp.iiniTi.— 

He;iacTaTua, CTOJO-ehiTb, 

Bi> CaCaxT. ha aslUy n 

;i,Tji Toro n xa (t'lv 

II xoi upoiaro ftwro. 

„He annrt n iiiiKor.'ia, qto anaiitn. Myai bojh, 
KanaoiiRKic kjio'ih h npoiee tukop; 
Ho uoA BCToinnmi hpcj.. kubh, prpyirtcH ajtci.: 
napiinpo nocro a.it.'i. mIictu aoporiM'. 

,.Ki< [.'[ini-aiiniiain, a ciii6i. : Kiiirb iicuaut.itiiun pa 

JI ^ly iin. npi'.iPCTH ii niwu'ti raKW. 

Ho jain. <-nHinc)Diutt Mutt— k Fxiry (Iutf. iMvroll; 

Of.irtitaTtiCfl £ru— n rptxi, n aio Gojunoa. 

,. CsHAaHui u.iaiKitt inni! Kamj th ^iipyrnib nan 

BoCToprsHn .irCBn u njKi^ro MKoro! 

Ho cwiobKo jiiott awCuui. ii:9.ii]]iH0 rplam. KpoBt— 

Fiinaitn^ eKioiinnmi Toro ii.iii .ipyroro." 



„An., lacTO, iSi 


CTO Kam. BBOJILllI MIIPT. 1 


Hn. iiityKii .lOHf 
Ho jwnte aniuh 
JlvO.-im II tm< 3Ji 


Bima— n Csfia noltMnnnl 
i-To, 3(1 Bre n sa ,ipynio 



XOPT.. 

Ilnrsa BToro, Toro, 
Hy, II npoiaro Bcero, 

HoTcpiui o;[iiy n, 
JIsyxL ycnl-Ti h iMXpniinrb — 
HoAOCTsma, cTa.io-fitjn,. 

Bb GaSan ne Knn.iy n 



THE JOLL Y BEGGARS 

Ann TPro, D ASH cero, 
H AiB opo^aro BCero. 

TsKii n^^TL ntsemi-n crtau 30UH 
TpiIcaIIC^ on> 6%[iieHara rpoua 
AnioxRCHeiiTOBi cdtbb pytTb; 

HeHCTOBO HHli BtOpBTl niOTKB — 

H, IT0&I1 na6un> no6a3iiiiie Bo;(Rn, 
OAKiTb cHDMaen cenfl cnprytni. 
Ton o<iBui3on Bcb Kapuanu, 
Aprroft pualucH ao ™cia . . . 
CKBosBTb noBcwxT HaroTa, 
Ho Bci SOTO uepTseuKa nuinu. 
H HOT* OHH m ntBuy onim. 
Bci CTun invMHO npHinaBaTf., 

■"iTO&b JrO(TIB.Tt Oirt HTI. CKopitI, 

OrikipBoit ntcemtofl CBoeft. 
Obi> CTa.TL HeiKb jeyxb CBrmi, ^LfAfspt, 
OSxi'-n KpyroiTb BectiJiufl Bsopi, 
KfApKMn Bccc.io ipnxiiy.Tb 

H BtLTHRySl: 

„KBiiirn>, inyuflTii npexb nam ?auiu, 
7 Hruuelt Gpan.n napi. ropott; 
PacKpoltTe-HU> jipywHD tjotkb iiaiuB 

H DOllTe Be<X^O 3B MHOlt : 

„npov. B(4, koh; aaKDifb no sKycy! 
CsofiOAa — CBimuA npa3iuinKi> Hain>! 
Cyjiu nputTBU tmiiKo Tpycy, 
MoBacTupH— osHDiTb xaHocain. ! 

„ BoraiCTBO, uoiecrn, Twryau — 
Jlxi aaci iicS »io njciaKB, 
Ham aantb-fiu spyiKBue aaryau - 
n BCa i»6y;jyn> ro.iRKH! 

Becb ABHb Hu D& GBiTy maupaeu'ii, 

n Ba][yBaein>, H lutpBin., 

A Boib Ha c^A, nojTb uapaeirii 

Hn Bl CTOftjUXIi CIi MIUUHB ACOtDHV 



343 BURiVS IX RUSSIAN 

„KoH5nni 6i)iCTpiiiMn Rc.Tr>uoHc^ 
Bt* Kaperb nacB He oCoraaxi.! 
Ha 6j[aroHpaBHOXT> 6pa^H0irb jio;id^ 
BocToproBi» Haan> no 3aHTnfaTi>! 

.,nyon. aai3Hr> Gtaciin. Bo;^OBopoT•>3i^> — 
Mu qyaH^H arott cyoTM; 
IIycTi> TOTb crpeMirrcH aa no^oxoirb, 
Kto iioaceTb pyxiiyib ci> bucotiiL 

„ KpiIHHTe-3KI> Bcb, noAHHBmH KppicRn: 

BlIBUTL— KOTOMKII, KOUieJIhKII, 

TpHiibo, .loXMOTbH, Hamn ^yui" 
II Miiif 6po;uirH-ro:iflKu ! 

„npoiL Bcti, Kony naKoiTb no iiKvcy! 

CBOCo^a— CBtT.lUtt lipa3AHIIICL IIUMT.! 

CyAU npiHTUbi xo-ihico T]>ycy, 
MonacTupn -OAHiiSTb xaiuKaii-b!" 

^am 0* <§hauter. 

Mr. Kostomaroff is much less successful with this poem 

than his brother translator is with the " Jolly Beggars," and 

often departs from the original even to a greater extent 

than he does in the "Cottar's Saturday Night." In 

rendering 

" Ah, gentle dames ! it gars me greet 
To think how mony counsels sweet, 
How mony lengthen'd, sage advices. 
The husband frae the wife despises!" 

he is more gallant than Burns, and gives it — 
MncTpiicrb! Mut Kaaceicn, hto, npaoo, 
Bet «OHU cy;;Hrr> o»iein» n,ipaBO, 
H HTO yiia Bi> TosTb Kan.Tii u^tl, 
Kto npeanpaerb hx-l coBtTLp 

' Ladies, it seems to me that indeed 
All wives have a fair judgment, 
And that there is no sense in the fool 
Who despises their advice. 



TAM SHANTEH 343 

but that is nothing to 

OaRaRO, Kb jAs%: Dl 917 OOlb 

HauTb Tarn KoBeiRO fiun h« np<n&, 
TIpoxaBiun Buroaiio CKonmy, 
nosfknfc Kb BecosoN? KaHREy,' 
This is rather circumstantially put for 

" But to our ule : Ae market night 
Tarn had got planted unco right. 
Fast by an ingle, bleezing finely, 
Wi' reaming swats that drank divinely." 

Bums in no way suggests that the attachment between 
the two heroes was not reciprocal, but it is difficult to 
understand why 

"Tarn lo'ed him like a vera brither ; 
They had been fou for weeks thegither." 

should be changed into 

A Tsua J^oifb SKifmxh, Kain> Cpnrb, 

H BCflldll XeHb <TI> HIUTb lUtTb CUJII. pVtb.' 

This is little better than a commonplace travesty, and 

TaiTL octwiU'Tb KpuByio Mai-ii, 

{Ha BCft OHT> ^.Tll.TI. Wie'U CRolt sfiKL) 

H, BecHOTpii Ba upain. h rpnab, 
nycin;[ca Bb nyrh 6.iamc.ioHHCb. 
Aoporott oin. to pacntBajTb, 
To manKJ ai floOi. HaajJHraal,' 

' But to the subject : On this night 

Our Tam naturally wis not averse. 

Having sold his cattle vilh proRl, 

To sit down ut Ihe meiiy fireside. 
'But John loved Tam like « brother. 

And was glad every day to drink with hiin. 
'Tam saddled the awkward M^; 

He rode on her all his lifetime, 



344 



BURNS IN RUSSIAN 



is still worse, for besides containing a libel upon Maggie, 
than whom "a better never lifted leg," it is a poor pro- 
duction, and is clearly the effect of Russian associations, 
and not a translation of 

"Weel mounted on his grey mare Meg — 
A better never lifted leg— 
Tam skelpit on tliro' dub and mire, 
Despising wind, and rain, and fire ; 
Whiles holding fast his guid blue bonnet; 
Whiles crooning o'er some auld Scots sonnet." 

The above are absurd enough, and there are too many 
instances in similar strains; but towards the end Mr. 
Kostomaroff becomes more reckless, he throws Burns over- 
board, and indulges in his own fancy and ill-informed 
notions. The "twa pund Scots" he puts down at a 
shilling. He tells us the linen was bought at Welborough ; 
accuses poor Nannie of "shamelessly throwing out her 
leg," whereas Bums only says she "lap and flang," a 
vigorous style of dancing much in vogue before dancing 
masters were so plentiful in country districts; and finally 
describes "Mister" Satan as jumping and turning over and 
over, and Tam crying out, " Well done, old Nick," instead 
of the classic " Weel done, Cutty-sark I " 

He SHSuia to crapy uiKa Fpeimn, 
KorAa OHa jiflsi KponncH UeHHH 
3a nnuLTHHTB — bco ea flo6po — 
XojicTa KynHJia kl Biijn>6op6. 



And notwithstanding the darkness and the dirt 
Got on the way blessing himself. 
On the road he was singing out slowly; 
Drew his cap over his brow. 



TAM ff SMANTER 



345 



Sxbcb, Mysa, hu xdjochu paacrarbva : 
Te6i BtAb B^pHO HB VA&cTcn 
Bucutab, KaKi> Harjio craaa Heaiin 
Teueph ButMipTUBsTh Koa^u. 
Hanrb Tsirb croajn., xam Su npnicoMii'ii, 

E^COGnCOit OIHCKOtt OiapOBftHT., 

Khkl BSpyn. cavb iiHCKpii CaTatm 

Cnpuniyiiii ci BucoKaru oima, 

TsKb cTan> KyBupitatMM, nocrptjn., 

'Hto TaHifB Hoit He yrepntai 

H xpBKRyJTb: „CJiaBHO, crapufl Hmiil"' 
This is really a ridiculous travesty on the powerful lines 
of the original — 

"Ah! little kcnn'd thy reverend grannie, 
That sark she coft for her wee Nannie, 
Wi' twa pund Scots ('twas a' ber riches). 
Wad ever grac'd a dance of witches 1 

But here my muse her wing maun CDur, 
Sic flights are far beyond her pow'rj 
To sing how Nannie tap and flang 
(A souple jade she was, and Strang), 
And how Tarn stood, like ane bewitch'd, 
And thought his very e'en enrich'd ; 

'The old granny-wife did nol know this 
When she foi Jitlle Naniiie, 
For a. shilling — her all — 
The linen bought in Welhorough. 
Here, my muse, we must part ; 
Thou wilt surely not succeed 
To sing how shamelessly Nannie 
Began to throw out her leg. 
Oui Tarn stood like one rivetted to the ground, 
Enchanted by the liendish dince ; 
When all of a sudden, Mister Satnn, 
Jumping down from the high window, 
Began to cut copers, turning heels over head, the scamp t 
That Tarn coold not stand it any longer. 
AtKl cried out, "Well done. Old Nick I" 



346 BURNS IN RUSSIAN 

Even Satan glowr'd, and fidg'd fu' fain, 

And hotch'd and blew wi' might and main ; 

Till first ae caper, syne anither, 

Tam tint his reason a' thegither. 

And roars out, * Weel done, Cutty-sark ! * " 

I give the piece in full. I am told the poem is 
popular with the Russians: what would it be if they had 
it rendered as it has been done for the Bohemians and 
the Hungarians? 

T3]yrL O'lnSHTEFB. 

KynUOBT* flEBHO pKb H-ferB H cjrfiAy, 
^asHO samojTB coefejB kb cocfeJ^y, 
Hapo;a> Ki» sacTaB-fe noTflHy.Tb — 
H cmrb 6a3apa niyirb h ryjn>. 

H BOTB — AOBOJILHU H CTaCTJIIBM — 

Yctrincb Mu 3a KpysKRott nima, 
3a6i>iBi» A^inny morjaiu^cKHrB uHJih, 
PyHtn, H Morb 6aiOTb, h ntuifc 

Jl(>pon>, HTO HaCL AOMOtt BGAyTB, 

r,iii HcoHU HacB AaBBO, ^att, HayrL, 
r^t rfffeBHo 6.iemyTi> htb raaaa, 
Ha .i6y c6HpaeTCH rposa . . . 

TasTB CTymnrb HaMT> jkhbumt, npHMifepoirB, 
Hto nyjKHo ah6mt> npoiuaTbCH <n> 3poMT>. 
(CTapmniMit Dpi> naiirb BcrharB nsB'krreirb: 
„3pL, r^t HapojB KpacHBT. n HecreiTB*'). 

Th, TasTB, r,Tynte bcAxt, na cB*Tfe: 
Tm npoHeCperb coB-feTOui* Kstth! 
He roBopnja-.Tn ona, 
Hto tu — niiBHoft KOToJTb 6e3T» ana, 
^TO TM — HeroAHincB, nycTOMe.Tfl, 
ni>ffHi> BnJiOTB OTB MaH j^o anptjui ! 
Be3oinb-.iH KB Me.ii>HnKy sepno, 
HpoiDboinb H KyjB cl hhmi* aa o;ino! 
noft;^eiiib-.TH BT, KysHio 3a no;;KOBoit, 
Otl Kysneua npiu«inb ct> oOHOBott, 



TAM a SffAATEJt 

H flaate— npocTO rptrt ii opaui.— 
noflAiimb Bb cyCCory bi Boadlt xpasTL— 
Ob nwiiKOMi. Hani^uibca n.-iKairyiit 
Cbhtoto JBiH . . . yTOBeuH. in. flyiii, 
Hab— Gyayrb hotkh DoreuHtit— 
yiaDurrb Bt^bua wh 3a;ii>Belt. 

UncrpHCCTi! Hai KajKeicn, ito, npaBO, 
Be* KOHU cyaart OHCRb ajpano. 
n Tto yita sb ToiTb Kaii.-in Htn., 
Kto npesnpaen. an. cuutn.1 

O.-mBRO, Kb atjy; bi ary iioib 

Haitn. TaiTb xouoino Cu.ti. no npoib, 

IIpoaaBnni butojiio CKOTimy, 

HoactcTb Kb Bed-'-TOwy Kuuiiiiy, 

r^b crapuft npyn. Haiirt JtHtoHn Copiepi. 

JIfiBHO ywb ii1>HiLTb anCpult nopTopT>. 

A TsuB ^oirb JDoGiiTb, KUKb Gparb, 

U BcniEin at>Hi> cb Jiiivb niiTb Cu.ti> ps^n. 

TcUHeUbKO CTXID. ^D ilUOpB 

Ouo aaHHO 6u j-AO, Bopa, 

^ 3.11. Taicb XMlvioiTb craHonibicH, 

'Itu Tdbt. Ml loawflKy DApyrb aaioCnacn. 

A JliKOKh 110.10.111 fliTb pasiiult Baaopip 

II loiora-Tb, KaKb i|t.ibitt lopi. 

BoTb ."[oatXb noinoaii, rpoaa Oymyorb ; 

A Taut n m, yci. ceO't bo ayorb. 

Safiora ci. saBncra BaOt.Pir.iiicb 

H BT. jqir.KKt. CI. a.ifin, yTviidi.iaPl.. 

TilKb BpeBH paiOCTl. J-HCCf^! 

KaKli qapb, Hanrb IIl3BTcpi> 
Hto Moe rope uoOfcur.n.. 

Ill) pajocn. — MBKb : UTri.TrTii — Ci« 
Ci'imi'iub — H BiiuiHKb ofi.iCTim.; 
na.uTb-.iH cRt.rb Ha auOi. iipy^a — 
RicoHPn. — a raerb n.iBTpr.tJi ; 
Tbki. Bb Be6i racnyrb iiereopu. 
Ha mm ope.D.inaH Hamn luopu; 



At^S: 



<K^>-** 



348 BURNS IN RUSSIAN 

TaiTb He6a hchvio Jiaaypb 
MpaHHTb ;^iixaHi>e anMimrb 6ypi>. 
Ho Bpeiifl MHirrcsi: Mesfoy-rbirb, 
IIoRa AOMoft co6pajicH Tain*, 
IIpo6HJio nojiHo^b. Bi> aroTb nacB, 
KorAa nocjiiAHitt CBtn* noracb, 
He Aaft FocnoAb KorAa-HH6yAb 
HaiTb, rpi^niHHKairb, nycKaxbCH fl nyrb! 

A Bi^Tepi* CBHiueTb, bobtl, croHerb 
n o6jiaKa no neCy roHim>. 
TaKB fipKo hojihIh 6.iecTHTB, 
IIpoTHHCHo r.iyxo rpoiTb rpeiiDTL, 
Ahth — H TOTb 6u Aora^aacH, 
Hto Bi^pHO Ai>Hno.Tb paaiiirpajicsi. 

TasTb ocibA'ia.Tb KpnByio Marb, 
(Ha Heft oiTL '&3An.Tb secb CBoft b^icb) 
H, HecMOTpfl Ha upaicb n rpH3b, 
nycTHJicsi BTb nyrb Cjiaroc-ioBflCb. 
Aoporott oiTb TO pacn^BajTb, 
To uianKy iia .106'b uaABHra.Tb, 
He TO cMOTplvTb no cToponairb, 
Hto6t» He nonacTbCH KO.TAyHain»: 
Vacb CKopo Cyflerb 3.TJioBett, 
^lunaue cobi>, npuTOHi> Mepteit. 

Ho BOTb yjKb oirb h 6poA'b MHiiyjrt, 

Fa^ 6iAHLitt ^aniiaHb yroHyjTb. 

A BOTb H ABt cyxiH e.iii, 

Tj^ pacTHHyjicH ni>flHbi(t Hop.in; 

A zjs^^hj He;itJin AB'b cnyciH, 

HanuDi y6nToe ahth; 

A Tyrb— HCAaBHo yjKb cjiy^iaaocb — 

y McHra TOTKa yTonnnacb; 

A TaiTb n AyHi> ysKb aacBepKarb . . . 

Bapyrb rpoMHe rpoxorb 6ypH cTajii>. 

PacKaTbi rpoMa nan^e, 6.iii3Ke, 

H sir^H MO.iuiit BbioTCH HiuKe: 

To cKBosb CepeaoBbucb BtTBett 

Hbhjich CTpauiHuft D.iJioBen, 



7'AAI ff SHANTER 

CsepRHyBi lyiDiTb b31> saa^iofl ineiB . . , 

BflfTpQ dtucaiE, BUJiB, nimii. 

U, Ji^iXh H^iieHHuc-ScpRO, 

Kami Tu OTsaxuio n cii.ibKO I 

Mu cb BOAKii TaiTb-TO xpaGpu cranen., 

^to lopry npfliio HI xap» lur.liiKeirb I 

A Tamr-Kain. Tain. Dcti s.ib niHy.Tb, 

To ^opra jvhpHO-frb Re (rTp¥iHy;n., 

BjpfTJi Marb, KaKb BTtoDaHuaH croau : 

TsHii cfl KvsaKL — oua sapauja 

n MiHTcn npaHO na onin. 

HiOKb Tairii yuiut-iH ouir? 

Ilpn (i-iecKb (wt^ein. ii nyuu 

nJuicaJto ^epm, KtKayiibi — 

Jla He ^paHiiyacfdH KaApii-m. 

A npocro— awHTb, ropiinallDi> aa pioni. 

Ha noj^oKoinmK^ bi> npuxoxien 

CD;i^in< 0:iu:i>-Hiiin> ci> 3uf>pimofl poaceli— 

KocMarufl nuci.— n irt pcBojn., eBiintmt 

(Ohi y wprelt Ctun. Cauaypiicroirt) 

J^asiuii B03UHRy, iro octi> ciuu : 

Tpacjmcfc noxniHBuio crponiuibi. 

y cr^Hi cTOwm ravb ;uia rpoCa, 

OKpymsHU ^epniMU o€a; 

A cam. iiepTBent, bi. ".lOHtlt Gtaofl, 

Bi pyicb io.io;(Bi>-Docniit.ii>it 

Jtep8uun> CBi^ ... Ho eute Tovm 

yB&;i'krb Tan aanrb Ha npecraTh? 

Tam, Mewl. npecrvDHBKOBi. KaaiiuHKurL. 

E XBTXt luaACHticBii HeKpcuii^uiiiiiK'b, 

3jaa:tn aaptoaHHbifl ssKa-Tb 

U, poTL paaHHfBi, nuuKa-n. 

noTon iimaxi. nuaiut KponaHuIl, 

ToiiaraTKit h iio»uuni pxauult, 

KoTopmn. — jawe rpfcti CKaaaTi. — 

3apfe]a.Ti. cURb poAUTD Haib . . . 

n BUAHO. KBKIi Kli RpOBSBOlt CTajUI 

C^ue BDjocu npnOTASD. 

A Tan — rpn rpyna lABORaTOR^ 

KaKB iuan>H nniuaro, bii saiuaTarb, 



350 



BU/^NS IN RUSSIAN 

H CTOJibRo pa3HbixT> xapb n posicb, 
Hto Hirb H pHOin»^ro He HaiiAouu». 
Hann, Tain, ctoiitb nojyacHBoft. 
A TaiTb Bce rpoM^o cBHCTb n Boii ; 
PeBOTb, TpyCixTB B:Ia;^lIKa A;;a, 
H ^epTH njflinyTB J^o yna^a, 
A cb Hnsfn crapuH ath, 
Kto 6e3i> pyKn, kto 6c3i> Hora, 
mBLipuyFb 3aca.ieHHLifl majin, 
Bi» OAHHXi> py6aniKaxT> TauuoBa.in. 

Hy, T3Mi», cKaxra Met 603^ ii3At>BKn, 
Hto Qcsan-ffh TaMi> Bce Clloh ;ii>BKn, 
J(a He Bi> (|)JiaHejieBOMi> TpHnbt, 

A Bl> ^HCTOlTb TOHCHLKOSTb Glklbt ? 

H npo3aKJia;;uBaTb roTOBi 

Bce, HTO TU xonerab, hto mraHOB^ 

Ho no»cajii>jrb craiunTb 6u cb JiHineirb, 

Hto6i> xoTb B3r.iflHyTb Ha sthxi* nrameirb 

Ho H HTH H KO.T;iyHM 

TaiTb Cbi.in Apn6.ibi h c^niHH 

n xaicb BcpTiwiHCb Ha KjnoKaxi, 

Hto xoTb Koro 6hi npouAJTb crparb. 

Ho TajTb xntopi,: Mexcb raj^KiixT) posRefi 

Coftqacrb oAuy nauiojb MO.ioa;e. 

(Ona 6bLia a^itcb bi> nepBbiii pa3i>, 

XoTb MHoro c^tJiajia npoKa3i> 

Ha B3Mopbi> KappuKa. FjuiAnmb, 

To noArpbi3CTb fliMCHb, Kaicb Mumi>, 

To CO ;^Bopa 6HHKa CBOAerb, 

To JiojtKy BT> meiTKH pa3o6berL.) 

Efl xy;^aa py6atuouKa, 

Kaicb y TpexjrfeTHflro po66HKa, 

BbiJia H Kyua h TOJicra— 

Hy, H3rb nattaiettcKaro xojcra. 

He 3Hajia to crapynnca FpeHHU, 
Kor^a OHa ajih KpomKH HeuHu 
3a nin.ijninrb — Bce en Ao6po — 
Xojicra Kymuia srb BHJ[b6op6. 



TAAt SHANTER 

Sa^Oi, Myaa, hu ;id.'ukhiii pu3(Tan.cii : 

TeOt Btjb Btpso Be yAscrea 

fiucdtTL, Kami Hario crajia HoKicn 

Teaepb BUBEpiuBBTb Kaitau. 

Ilaun. Tairb croH^n, Kairb Ou npttRODairb, 

EbN>i!CKnn lunriiott oiaponairb, 

ICam B;3pyni cam uncrepii Carasa 

CnpurHjKb ci BucoKaro OKua, 

Taicii CTa;n> nyBUpKaTbcn, uocrp^Ti, 

4Tn Tauifii uuil He yrcpiifcrt 

II KpnKiiy.ii : „ C^iohho. crnpult HnKi> ! " 

Tyn. Bco noiyuo m. ton. aw Mictx, 

H Man. tie c.iii.ia.'ia ii luara, 

KaKii Bcn GtroBCKan uniura 

3a Belt nycnuHCb, Khki, nopoft 

JImitTb, iKynma, n'[e.iuHufl puA, 

\\9Sh HuiDKy Kuril BOrinctH'raerii, 

II— uanv-napam. : an iioct uuiTaeTL, 

ILiu Toaiia C^uKirrti, khk^ ncopo 

SacouisHrL Kpuirfc : „ ,i,c)i»»iTe Bopa ! " 

Tain> Man. nyLTii.iacTi, a 3a Belt 

Biirara Jituiiixi. ii 4(i|iTefi. 

Art, TaiTb! axi>, Tatrb! nona-Tb m> fltsf— 

IIo3»capim. ^opn. tp6h bt. aay ! 

II Kmt. ti'Oh pKi, i!c aoatlLTiaj — 

JtiiTT. Bjonitt leminn. oiirn. npii;i&rcH. 

MiDCb, Mdl-L. QOIia KO viiajt^uii' — 

Tu ciacTbe lUuiiTcpa seevmii! 

Cbiopta na uDcn,, ue to Tatn, tn> fiposy: 

^Iiipn. He neraen. <icpc3i BOjy, 

II.1H n'dt TBoft xHocn. BO wm. ? 

IIo. an, ! iBOCTB q cil^rb npocrujrb. 

OiiepeaHKi Bcio HcpioBUumy, 

Elt HcBHii npuTHv.ia ua cqubj, 

11 yaa. y iMKoro Moura — 

y M^rm BO GUiiD xeocra. 

Huui'i' Tasrii, lyrh cn'pua lyn Hcnnon, 

lIpi-fexa-Tb Ki, yrpy ywt noHott. 

Ho Mriirn . . . axT., Boon.iaicMi. My-jal 

Hn Kf.KH CA^ajaci. Kypryaa. 



352 BURNS IN RUSSIAN 

Hy, a TenepirTO ho nopa-jiH 

HaiTB npiicryinrn. VHCb h ki> Mopajm? 

Kto Jiio6irn> JiHiimee zJie6HyTb, 

JIa Kb RyiQJirb io6Kairb sarjumyrb— 

CMorpif, HTo6i> ch HHin» Toro-xcb He 611U0, 

^TO Ch T3in> o*ineHTpoBoft KoCliLlOit. 

It is a pleasure to turn to this poem, which is very 
well rendered indeed, by an anonymous writer. The 

"Wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie," 

is scantily described by 

TpyC.TTIBHtt ci^peHLRoft 3Blipftn.!» 

and the well-known verse — 

" But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane, 
In proving foresight may be vain : 
The best laid schemes o' mice an* men 

Gang aft a-gley, 
An' lea'e us nought but grief and pain, 

For promised joy." 

is not at all equal to the rest, for the translator misses 
its meaning and moral. 

IIo H6 CL To(5oft OAimifk, airhpoKii, 
TaioH rayncH mynm, poKi.! 

Ho BtpOITB S^r^bCb HH HOft paCHCTL ; 
CnOKOftHO ^KlXfiWh 

Mu c»iacTbH, a cy^bCa hoccti> 
HeB3ro,iy Bt jtoMi*.- 



^ Timid grey bcastie. 

'But not only with thee, little beast, 
Fate plays such pranks, 
No one's calculations are here correct. 

Quietly we wait 
For happiness, but fate brings misfortune 

' To the house. 



ADDRESS TO A MOUSE ; 

KL nojiEBOfi Hbmm, pasofeheoB Momn> 

ILJIFrOlfft. 
TpycaHButt ctpeHiiiEot sB^pfitnl 
BejiBKi. Ke Tsojt Hcnyrb ; m Hon 
He uumHnib, ObomB, no;Ti. co6ott. 

noKeHbine ipycb! 
B^Ab fl Be aojTb — H sa toCwA 

He n 



FbU ! CIi OpHpOAOlt BftlUft CBHSb 

A^BBO aa sbn> pasopsaaacb . . . 
EIth, SB^poiriil XoTb a, va.vn, to, 

Htnjiei^ seiuH 
yOoiifl : cain> tepnoio fibiu, 

yBpy Fb nujm. 
BopmoKS Tu; ho iuun> »e 6UTb? 

HefSTO KoaocB He Batnb 
Ta6t Bit saiiuTb, 

KonW TOKAH CiiajVSBTb 

Bi> noiHTi. ; Hocb? 
TboH 6£ahiii9 noKBKb paaopiHL; 
IIoiTH Cb aeiuigfl cpaBanjica osi . . . 
n BO HaltAemb tu bl DOai hiobi 

Ha BOBufl Aon ; 
A Bfttepi> — rpoaesb h cypoBi— 

UlyHBTb BpyTOirb. 
Tu BHA^JTii — fiJieRHjiH noaa 

n SHHHHTfi SHefi WJIIUS SBIUH ; 

Tu AyM(un>: „tiyaerb Hot leoio, 

npHBOHiHO TJTbl" 

H no-we ? — luyrb Moit HAHeuo 

Ha TBoB opiuTb. 
A CKOibKnn. <:tobjio uonon 

CaUDtHTb Wib XOpHB 9T0Tb CBOJlbl 

Hponaio see — h Tpyxb, h Kposi; 

Hh nrb BOKpyrb 
npima Htn on. xtofmeb. 

Orb fitiurb Bburb. 



354 BURNS TN RUSSIAN 

Hu He CB TO(5oft OAHHMT), 3Btp5lCby 

Taicifl myiKH myrHTb poKi>! 

He Bi^peHi s^i^b nn Hott pacnerb; 

CnoKoftHO vs;^}Sh 
Mu c^acTbH, a C7Ai>6a Hccerb 

HeB3roAy BTb AOin>. 

H AOJra ropecTHtft moh: 

Bcfl vih HacTOHiueirb skhshb TBon; 

A MHt H Fb nponuioirb BcnoMUHaib 

PhJTB TOMHHX'L jrfiTb 

n CB co;iporaHi>ein> osiciuaTB 
rpsiAyimixB 6t;i>. 



^0 a ^aidg. 

This IS very beautifully translated (also anonymously), 
preserving the grace and pathetic melody of the original^ 
and although 

" Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flowV," 

beats the writer, as it does nearly all the other translators, 
and is rendered 

I^B^ToicB cMnpeuHLilt, nojieeoit!' 

the substitution is not unpoetical, and scarcely interferes 
with the charm of the translation. 

ICL CPMAHHOft lUiyrOiyrL MAPrAPIITKB. 

I^B'bTORb CMnpemmft, nojieBoit! 

He BTB Ao6pi>iit HacL tli BcrptHeirb MHott: 

Kaicb BQjTb fl njyrb, tbo^ CTe6eJieRB 

BbUTB Ha nyiH. 
Kpaca AOJnmu, a hc mofb 

To6fl cnacrn. 



^ Peaceful flower of the field. 



TO A DAISY 

He Bysemb nraioRH tu wnsolt, 

Caoefl coduwH HOio^ott. 

no yrpj, TOihKo Apamerb i^Hb, 

Bb poci RavkTb, 
ICois» oua pyiisBUfi neiu. 

Jlemn Bcrptiait. 

Biicn. Bt.iepB diBcpBufl stectoKi, 
Koi^ nncpDue TBolt pociom 
PojtByx) doib; npoGnsajTb ; 

B'b iiajiOrb ipoai 
Tu QoiRy paBHwn cnobhjh, 

Ilcijtb Oypcit Bspocrb. 

Otb Denoro;ib lurbiairb cajoErb 
Sauunofl citiuj, rliHb xopiiBi.. 
dyianiioQ koikoH Glui. ipaniun. 

TboK CTe6t'.iGicb ; 
Bi iiarrm nainxii lu uetoi Heapiiirfc 

II OJIIIIOKI- 
Tu rKpOHlID B1> 3&:ieHn He.TbKSJIb 

rMObKoll CHt»iiroio ; TU Huaxii 
JIpnutTa i.-a3iiuiiiwi — u H.ipyrb, 

Bo unirt onrb, 
Te6n iiacmrb uoft ocrpuU luyn. — 

H DuryGiLTih 

TaKOin yjlwri) uiitrKa ce-ia — 

HCBltHHOlt stliyiQKlC : CBt.TSa 

AyinoA nonl.piJEiion, wuKiirb 

Ho 'lyic Ctrl.; 
Ho saoCa cptHterf. a comhStb 

HpeKpacnult t[Btn. 

TsBOBT. yatJL ntaiw DoseB: 
CpeoH o(>H3H<!nBiuii auCefl 
Ho Mopn KiisiiH uffb B?;iwrb 

CboK ipynKJIl MOiirb, 
IIoKa nn.ti. 6ypi'ft iic aaaSn 

Aofiuqcll Boam^ 



356 BURNS IN RUSSIAN 

TaROFB 77^:krb fl 6opi>6t cb Hyaq^oft 
Bc&CB Ao6purb: ropAocruo jnoAGBolt 
H 3][oin> Ha dieprb ocyaweHLi, 

Ohh HecyTB — 
OAHHTb He6eci> ho jramoHiii— 

KpoBasutt Tpy^. 

HajTb MaprapHTKoft iLia^ a... 

Ho 9T0 AOJIfl H MOfl! 

ILiyrB CMepTH eajio MHoft npofiA^rb 

MeHH no;iq)'kiceTb— H saMporb 
Moit cjia6utt cjit;n>. 

John Ipatlesomt. 

Only in Russian is the original not adhered to with 
this piece. I fancy this is due more to the translator 
than to the peculiarities of the language. In the first 
verse he leaves out the dwelling-place of the kings " into 
the East" and 

"They filled up a darksome pit 
With water to the brim, 
They heaved in John Barleycorn, 
There let him sink or swim." 

he somewhat absurdly renders 

TyTL FB AMY OHT> HOnaJTB GTb BO^Oft 

H yroAHJTB Ha sho . . . 
„nonpo6yft, BunjiUBn-Ka, JlpROHb 
flHMeHHoe-3epHO ! "* 



^Then he fell into a pit full of water 
And went to the bottom. 
Try to get out of it 

John Barleycorn. 



JOHN BARLEYCORN 35; 

This is opposed to the meaning and movement of the 
ballad, whilst 

TiacBTe ao, lopon.: „n]rcn> bo Bbn 
Ha coiaen vb RpjiKicarb xho, 

n BilCIi nOETfc HaCfc KpOBUO JIJBOBfc 

HsHeBHoe-SepHO ! " • 

besides being unfaithrul to the origina!, very strongly, 
shall I say selfishly, desires the pleasure of Barleycorn's 
blood for the translator and his friends and countrymen, 
and passes over in utter silence the wish which the 
poet expresses in favour of his native Scotland — 

"Then let us toast John Barleycorn, 
Each man a glass in hand ; 
And may his great posterity 
Ne'er fail in old Scotland!" 



Jlohn ^nlieteon. 

This song is exquisitely translated, and gives the Russian 
public a true and beautiful version of one of the most 
touching of Buras's songs; this is also translated anony- 
mously — indeed the best translations are all given in this 
way. 

^ptOHy AHJlEPCOHy. 
JI^KOBii AoAepcoifb, cepABimill apttlI 

Ku(^ Hu conuDCb cii toGoH, 

Biufc raaAOKL aot^ noB e Ravb chou 

Buvb TOpem Boawrb tboA. 

'Sii% out in chorus, let ih« bottom 
Of out tankardi never be dry for agea. 
And let ui for ever drink the blood ol 
John Barleycorn. 



BURKS m HVSSIAN 
Teccpb MopninHU no nnny 

Bii TBonrt. Ry:ipnxi>; no — Bort xpann 

Tc6)!, cepAoqiiLilt apynl 
Jl»oifb A^opcoirb, ccpscTHufl .tpTn>! 

Hu BMicrb BTi ropy nL-rn. 
II ciMuuco HU c^aiTTjniiiiiri. nHeA 

}lpjrb crb npyrom npoue.iii ! 
renepb Ham. doji. ropy inerrnci.; 

Ho HU, pvEUi oil ppcoli, 
IlollftBin. — II Birtcrb no;n> roiiolt 

SacuoHii, cep;[e^iiuil noil! 



In coming to the French versions, we find a diflerent 
mode of translation. Most of those I have already 
noticed are cast, or are attempted to be cast, in the metre 
which Bums adopted, and a departure from it, as will be 
seen in the French and Italian translations, shows how 
much the beauty of the original is lost by the want of 
the original mould. Nor is this to be wondered at, for 
Burns himself shows how much the music to which he 
generally wrote his songs moulded the words and versi- 
fication. " Until I am complete master," he says, " of a 
tune in my own singing (such as it is), I can never 
compose for it"; and this sentiment was evidently in 
Carlyle's mind when, writing of Mr. Heintze's translation, 
he said, " Perhaps the one counsel I would venture to 
give Herr Heintze were this, in all cases to learn the 
tune first." Naturally, more than this is wanted — the ap- 
preciation of the force of the words, the spirit of the 
piece; but the "not having learned the tune " b painfully 
apparent in the French and Italian versions. 

There are several translations and imitations of Bums 
in French — "Moreeaux Choiut de Robert Burnt, traduction 
par MM. J. Aytoun et J. B. Mesnard, edition Ferra du 
Paris, 1826"; another by L&tn de Wailly, published in two 
editions simultaneously in 1S43 ^f ^- Delahuys (Paris) and 
359 



360 BURNS IN FRENCH 

Charpentier (Paris) ; and a prose version by Richard de la 
Madelaine, printed by Cagniard at Rouen, in 1874. 
M. L^on Valadi has published a few translations and 
imitations, some, such as **John Anderson," being not 
without merit; and Leconte de Lisle's imitations are well 
known. They are all more imitations than translations. 
I give as an example the 

ANNIE, 
Leconte de Lisle. 

La lune n'^tait pas ternie, 

Le ciel ^tait tout dtoild, 
Et moi, j'allai trouver Annie 

Dans les sillons d'orge et de bl^ 

Oh ! les sillons d'orge et de bl^ 1 

Le coeur de ma ch^re maitresse 

Etait ^trangement trouble, 
Je baisai le bout de sa tresse, 

Dans les sillons d'orge et de bl6, 

Oh ! les sillons d'orge et de bid 

Que sa chevelure etait fine ! 

Qu'un baiser est vite envois I 
Je la pressai sur ma poitrine, 

Dans les sillons d'orge et de bid, 

Oh ! les sillons d'orge et de bid I 

Notre ivresse dtait infinie, 

Et nul de nous n'avait parld, 
Oh ! la douce nuit, ch^re Annie, 

Dans les sillons d'orge et de bid 

Oh I les sillons d'orge et de bid. 

This piece is perhaps nearer to the original than any of 
this writer's other efforts. They lack the suppleness and 
precision of Bums ; the freshness and charm of life which 



INTRODUCTORY 361 

are so characteristic of Burns's songs seem to have escaped 
M. Leconte de Lisle, and their absence is not compen- 
sated for by the beautiful literary mosaics of coloured ad- 
jectives with which his pieces are adorned. In addition to 
these, M. Louis Demonceaux published at Paris, in 1865, 
Poities imitia de Robert Bums, but as they neither are, 
nor pretend to be, translations, I do not further notice 
them. 

Another work appeared in 1893 from the pen of the 
well-known Professor Auguste Angellier of Lille, on the 
life and works of Robert Bums,^ but it would be almost 
a slander to call this splendid masterpiece of literary work- 
manship merely a translation. 

Of the above translations the best — as it is the most 
complete — is that of de Wailly. It is now over half a 
century since this work appeared, and it would therefore 
be out of place at this time of day to criticise it too 
closely. Indeed, M. de Wailly disarms criticism by the 
frank remark with which he closes his most interesting 
preface : — * 

" Le matheur est que ces poesies sont de nature k perdre beau- 
coup dans une traduction. D'une part, elles olTreni peu d'int^rSt 
dramatique, et, de I'autrc, Ics grlces nalves du patois ^cossais 
n'ont pas d'^quivalent dans notre langue. On peut dire d'elles 
ce que Bums dit des plaisirs : 



" M6content de la prose, j'ai voulu essayer des vers, et en voici 
quelques-uns que je souniets au lecteur. Mais, vers ou prose, 

' R^trt Bums, ta fit a la (Zia/ra, par Auguste Angdliei, 
a tomes. Puis: Hacbette, 1893. 
» Sm de Wailly, p. xxxiii. 



362 BURNS IN FRENCH 

s'il n'est point satisfait, je I'engage, sans la moindre hypocrisie, k 
ne point s'en prendre au po^te, mais k I'insuffisance du traduc- 
teur ou de la traduction.'' ^ 

The two pieces he gives in verse are 

« 

John Iparlescom 

and "Tam o' Shanter." The former is very happily 
rendered thus — 

JEAN GRAIND'ORGE. 
Lkon de Wailly. 

II dtait une fois trois rois 

A rOrient, puissants tous trois : 

lis avaient jurd par la gorge 

Qu'ils feraient mourir Jean Grain-d'Orge. 

Dans un sillon bien laboure, 
Tout vivant, ils Tont enterr^ ; 
Puis ils ont jur^ par la gorge 
Qu'ils avaient tue Jean Grain-d'Orge. 

Mais le printemps revient joyeux, 
La pluie k flots tombe des cieux : 



* "The misfortune is that these poems are of a kind that lose 
much in a translation ; on the one hand they offer little dramatic 
interest, and on the other the na!ve graces of the Scottish tongue 
have not their equivalent in our language. One may say of them 
what Burns said of pleasure — 

***But pleasures are like poppies spread; 
You seize the flow'r, its bloom is shed,' 

** Dissatisfied with prose, I wished to try verse, and here are some 
specimens which I submit to the reader. But, verse or prose, if he 
is not satisfied, I beg of him, without the least hypocrisy, on no 
account to ascribe it to the poet, but to the insufficiency of the 
translator or the translation." 



J0H17 BARLEYCORN 

Jean Grain-d'Orge alors se reldve ; 
C'est bien lui I ce n'est point un rfive I 

Les soleils itouffants d'Afe 
Lui rendent vigueur et sanU : 
Sa t€te de dards se couronne: 
Grain-d'Orge ne craint plus personne. 

Le grave Automne succddant, 
Grain-d'Orge pAlit cependant ; 
Son corps se courbe vers la terre, 
Sa t£te penche ; il ddg^ntre. 

Ses couleurs se fanent ; h^las I 
C'est rSge qui vient i grands pas 1 
Ses ennemis prennent courage, 
lis voni done assouvir leur rage. 

Aiguisant un long coulelas, 

D'un seul coup ils font mis k bas, 

Et lid sur une charreiie 

Comme un faussaire qu'on arrfte. 

Sur le dos il est ren verse, 

II est bAtonn^, fracass^ ; 

Puis \ tous les vents on t'expose, 

Toumant, tournant sans nuUe pause. 

Pauvre Grain-d'Orge ! il faut les voir 
Remplir d'eau froide un grand trou noir, 
Et, sans nul respect de son Age, 
L'y Jeter — enfonce ou surnage 1 

Voilk qu'on I'a tird de I'eau 
Pour le torturer de rouveau. 
11 donne encor signe de viel 
On le secoue avec furie ! 

Sur la flamme alors ses bourreaux 
BrOlent la moelle de ses os ; 
Puis un meunier en fait sa proie, 
Entre deux pierres il le broie. 



364 BUIiNS IN FRENCH 

lis ont pris le sang de son cceur, 

lis Font bu, chantant tous en choeur ! 

£t plus ils boivent k la ronde, 

Plus dans leurs yeux la joie abonde. 

Jean Grain-d'Orge avail, il le faut, 
Un sang bien gdn^reux, bien chaud ; 
Car, prenez-en la moindre goutte. 
Son ardeur en vous passe toute. 

L'homme oublie alors son chagrin. 
Son bonheur m^me est plus serein ; 
La larme aux yeux encor brillante, 
La veuve entend son cccur qui chante. 

A Jean Grain-d'Orge une sant^ ! 
Buvons ^ sa post6rit^ ! 
Qu'elle soit fdconde et prdcoce 
A jamais dans la vieille Ecosse ! 



With 



^am 0* <§hantcr 



he is not quite so successful. He changes the metre, and 
the rhyme and rhythm are sometimes not at all musical 
Like so many other translators, he entirely misunderstands 
the line, 

"Thou drank wi* Kirkton Jean till Monday," 

and renders it — 

" Jusqu'au lundi tu bois avec Kirkton," 

and he loses the point of the line — 

" Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious," 

rendering it rather weakly — 

" Sans 6tre roi, Tam ^tait glorieux." 

He mistakes the instrument in translating, 

" He screwed his pipes^^ 

by 

" De ses tuyaux chassant des voix captives." 



Tj1.V a SHANTER 363 

These and one or two similar defects are, however, small 
matters in a translation in which many of the scenes 
are rendered with great power and fidelity. 

TAM a SHANTER. 
L£on de Waillt. 

Quand les chalands abandonnent la me, 

Que le voisin ofTre k boire au voisin, 

Que du march^ ie Jour tire k sa tin. 

Que part ta foule k la ville accoiime ; 

Tout en sablani I'ale des cabarets 

A pleine panse, heureux comme k U noce, 

Qui de nous songe aux longs milles d'Ecosse, 

Que de foss^ barri^res et marais 

Sont entrc nous et notre humble demcure. 

Oil la bourgeoise est sombre, et compte I'heure, 

Ses noirs sourcils amassant un couiroux 

Qu'elle mitonne et maintient chaud pour nous. 

Tarn O'Shanter en fit I'expSrience, 
Lorsque la nuit il revint une fois 
D'Ayr, la vieille Ayr, ville par excellence 
Des braves gens et des jolis minois. 

O brave Tam, Cathos, ta femme, est sage : 
Pourquoi ne pas I'^couler davantage? 
Elle t'a dit que tu n'es qu'un bavard, 
Un faineant, un vaurien, un so&lard ; 
Qu'au grand jamais, de novembrc en octobre, 
Jour de march 6 ne t'a vu rester sobre ; 
Qu'k chaquc grain que te moud le meunier, 
Vous y buvez tant qu'il reste un denier ; 
Que pour un fer si tu vas k la forge, 
Ce sont des cris d'ivrogne k pleine gorge ; 
Et qu'au saint lieu, les dtmanches, dit-on, 
Jusqu'au iundi tu bois avec Kirkton. 
Elle a prWit qu'au fond de la rivitre, 
Un jour ou I'autrc, on tc saurait noy6 ; 
Ou, vers minuit, pris par quelque sorci6re 
Hantant la vieille ^lise d'Alloway. 



SUXNS IN FRENCH 

Ah ! malgr^ moi je pleure, chores dames, 
A r^fl^hir que de conseils si bons, 
De doux avis et suflisamment longs 
Nous m^prisons nous venant dc nos fenimes. 

Mais k mon conte: un soir, son march^ ^t. 
Tarn se carrait comme vous pouvez croire, 
Au coin d'un feu flambant clair, et faumait 
Maints pots mousseux, et qui se laissaient boire 
Divinement ; %, son coude, un ami. 
Son alct^r^, son fidMe Johnny 
Le eordonnier (souvent comme deux fr^res 
lis se grisaient des semaines entiSres). 

La nuit passait en babil, chants joyeux ; 
Les cruches d'ale ^laient plus savoureuses ; 
L'h6tesse et Tam devenaient gracieujc : 
Faveurs suivaient secretes, pri^cieuses ; 
Johnny contait ses plus plaisants r^bus ; 
L'h6te en riant & tout faisait chorus : 
Qu'autour le vent mugisse et se ddm^ne, 
C'est un sifflet que Tam ^coute k peine. 

Le Souci, fou de voir des gens beureux, 
Au fond des pots se noyait avec eux ; 
£t s'envolaient, comme un essaim d'abnlles 
Lourd de Irtsors, les minutes vermeilles : 
Sans 6tre roi, Tam ^calt gtorieux, 
£t de tous maux enRn victorieux. 

Mais les plaisirs sont des pavots qu'on cueiUe, 
Vous salsissez la fleur, elle s'effeuille ; 
Ou bien encor flocons de neige au Hot, 
Un instant blanche— et fondant aussii6t ; 
Ou bien aussi I'aurore bor^ale 
Qu'on veui montrer et qui s'enfuit avant ; 
Ou I'arc-en-ciel k I'orage rendant 
Sa forme aimable, et qui dans I'air s'exbale.- 
Nul bras mortel ne saurait retenir 
Temps ni marde : il faut s'en revenir. 
C'est I'heure, 6 nuit, clef de ta sombre voflte, 
Heure d'effroi I Tam trotte sut la rouie, 
Et par un temps tel que p&heur jamais 
Ne fut dehors sous un del si mauvais. 



TAM SliANTER 

Le vent soufilait k tout briser sur terre; 
La pluie \ flots en sifflant fouettait I'air; 
L'ombre a.vaJait chaque rapide Eclair ; 
Haut, creux et long, mugissait le tonnerre : 
Un enfant mSme cQt compris que sous main 
Le Diable avait quelque besogne en train. 

Tarn bien montd sur Meg, sa jument grise 
(Jambe meilleure, il ne s'en l^ve pas), 
Bronche, s'embourbe, et glisse % chaque pas, 
A travers vent, pluie et feux qu'it m^ prise ; 
Tantdt tenant son bleu, son beau bonnet, 
Et fredonnant quelque bon vieux sonnet, 
Tantfit guettant s'il ne voit point parahre 
Un noir esprit pour le happer en traitre. 
Kirk-Alloway s'approche, ou, chaque nuii. 
Spectres, hiboux s'asscmblent i grand btuiL — 

II traversal! le gu^ (Dieu le protege I) 
Oil le chaland s'engloutit sous la neige ; 
Pass^ le tremble et la grosse pierre, oil 
Charlie un jour, ivte, rompii son cou ; 
Entre les houx et le mur en mine 
Ou les chasseurs virent ^tendu U 
Un enfant mort ; pres le puits et I'^pine 
Oil de Mungo la m^re s'^trangla :^ 
Devant ses pas le Doon r^pand son onde ; 
L'orage double et dans la forSt gronde ; 
D'un p6le ^ I'autre ^clatent les Eclairs ; 
La foudre approche ; et voilh qu'au travers 
Du bois plaintif, Kirk-Alloway brillante 
Frappe sa vue : elle semblait en feux ; 
Des rayons d'or sortaient de chaque fentc, 
Et r^sonnaient gait^, danses et jeux. — 

O Jean Grain-d'Orge, inspirateur d'audace, 
Comme aux dangers tu nous excites tous I 
De I'ale & quatre, et quels maux craignons-nou 
Ue I'usquebaugb vienne le Diable en face : — 

Tarn, son cerveau fume tant de boisson 
Qu'k chance 6gale il battrait un d^mon ! 
Mais lout court Meg s'arrCte ^pouvanide \ — 
Enlin des pieds, des mains admonest^, 



368 BURNS IN FRENCH 

Elle ose aller jusqu'au point lumineux ; 

Et que voit Tam ? en croira-t-il ses yeux ? 

Magiciens et sorci^res en danse ; 

Non ces pas froids, nouveaux venus de France, 

Mais strathspeys, reels, au lieu des cotillons, 

Mettant la vie et la flamme aux talons. 

A rOrient, sur un bord de fen^tre, 

Nick, le vieux Nick, sous la forme d'un chien, 

Un grand chien noir, velu, hargneux, Pair tndtre, 

Se tenait Ik comme musicien. 

De ses tuyaux chassant des voix captives, 

Faisant crier la vofite et les solives. — 

Comme une armoire ouverte, tout autour 

De la muraille et debout, mainte bi^re, 

Montrait un mort dans son dernier atour, 

A sa main froide ayant une lumi^re. — 

A la clart^, Tammy, notre h6ros, 

Put, sur I'autel, apercevoir les os 

D'un assassin, tout charges de leur chaine ; 

Deux nouveau-n^s, morts sans un sacrement ; 

Un malfaiteur d^croch^ r^cemment, 

Biillant encor comme en perdant haleine ; 

Cinq tomahawks, au fer rouge et rouilld ; 

Cinq sabres turcs, 6pais de sang caill^ ; 

Un cou d'enfant dans une jarreti^re ; 

Un coutelas qui dans la main du fils 

A ddchird la gorge d'un vieux p^re, 

Ou sont encor collds des cheveux gris ; 

Uenvers dehors, de mensonges cousues 

Comme un haillon, trois langues d'avocats ; 

Et tout pourris, de vils coeurs de pr^lats 

Puants et noirs, comme ordure des rues : 

Et mille objets horribles k nommer, 

Et que citer c'est d^jk blasph6mer. 

Tandis que Tam regardait, Toeil stupide, 
La f^te allait furibonde et rapide ; 
Le vieux fldteur k plus grand bruit soufflait ; 
D'un pied plus prompt la danse s'envolait ; 
Chaque comm^re k I'entour de I'^glise 
Si bien tournait, passait et repassait, 



TAM (f SHANTER 

Que, de sueur fumante, elle lan;ait 
Tous ses baillons, et restait en chemise I 

Ob ! si c'^taient des fiUes de quinie ans, 
Tam, mon cher Tarn, grasses, grandes et belles, 
Portant, au lieu de crasseuses Aanelles, 
Linge de neige, aux fils tins et bien blancs ! 
Cette culotte, en panne jadis forte 
Et de poll bleu, c'est ma seule ; n'importe : 
Vite, elle irait bien loin de mes talons 
Pour un regard de ces beani oisillons ! 

Mais de vieux corps, sees, pliss^s, dont la vuc 
S^vrerait seule un poulaln plein d'ardeur 
Sautant auiour d'unc vac he cornue. 
Comment peux-tu les voir sans mal de cceur? 

Tam avait fait certaine d^couverte, 
Le connaisseur ! lillc avenante, alerte. 
Que cette nuit enr6;ait le vieux Nick 
(Longtemps depuis trop connue ^ CarrirJt ! 
Car sous ses coups tomba plus d'une bSte, 
Maint beau bateau p^rit dans la tempfte, 
Et, renversant beaucoup d'orge et de bl6. 
Tout ce cfltd par elle fut trouble). 
A sa chemise en tolle de Paisley, 
Qu'elle portait quand elle ^tait lillette, 
Quoiqu'en longueur il manque au moins un Id, 
C'est sa meilleure, elle en est satisfaite.— 
Ta grand'maman n'eQt gu&re pu prdvoir, 
Nanny, le jour qu'elle en fit la ddpense 
Pour deux l<cus (c'^taic tout son avoir), 
Que des sorciers elle ornerait la danse I 

Ma muse ici doit suspend re son vol ; 
Un tel essor n'est point fait pour son aile ; 
Comment chanter Nanny battant le sol 
{Elle dtait souple ct forte, la donzelle), 
Tam restant droit et com me ensorcel6 j 
Jamais ses yeux n'avaient vu telle ftte ; 
Satan lui-mf me admirait es souffle. 
Cabriolant et soufflant k tue-tfite. 
De saut en saut, et de culbutc en bond, 
Tam acheva de perdre la raison, 

3A 



370 BURNS IN FRENCH 

Et s*6cria : " Bravo, courte chemise ! " 
£t tout fut noir k Finstant dans I'^glise ; 
Et Tarn sur Meg s'^tait k peine enfui, 
Que le sabbat sMlan^ait apr^s lui. 
Comme Tabeille en bourdonnant s'envole 
De sa maison qu*un pitre attaque et vole ; 
Comme les chiens, du li^vre ennemis n^ 
Jappent apr^s, crac ! s'il leur part au nez ; 
Comme la foule avec ardeur se me, 
Quand, " au voleur ! " retentit dans la rue ; 
Ainsi Maggie ventre k terre s'enfuit, 
Et tout Penfer en hurlant la poursuit 

Tam, mon cher Tam ! ah ! quel cadeau de foire ! 
Au feu d'enfer griller comme un hareng I 
C'est bien en vain que ta Cathos attend ! 
La pauvre femme ! avant peu quel ddboire 1 
Va de ton mieux, Maggie, avance done ! 
Quand tu seras plus d'k moitid du pont, 
Remue alors la queue : une sorcidre 
N*a pas le droit de passer la rividre ! 
Mais k son but avant qu'elle atteignit, 
Ce fut le diable k mouvoir que sa queue ! 
Car sur le reste en avant d*une lieue. 
De ses dix doigts il/anny vous Pdtreignit, 
Et jusqu'k Tam s'allongeait avec rage ! — 
Mais de Maggie que ne peut le courage ? 
Un 61an met son maitre et sdretd ! 
Oui, mais sa queue est laissde en arri^re, 
Et du croupion que tenait la sorci^re 
Le tronc k peine k Maggie est restd 

Vous qui lirez cette sincere histoire, 
Enfants de p^re et m^re, il faut me croire : 
Si vous sentez quelque penchant k boire, 
Chemise courte en t^te vous trotter, 
Songez qu*on paye un plaisir souvent cher, 
Rappelez-vous Meg de Tam O'Shanter. 

These are the only two attempts de Wailly makes at 
rhyme; the other poems and songs he renders in literal 



MISCELLANEOUS 



371 



blank verse. He also adopts the same method with a 
second rendeiing of "Tarn o' Shanter," which naturally 
is the much closer translatioa This makes the work 
of the translator much easier, but it completely does away 
with the musical metre of the original in which so much 
of the charm of Bunis's poetry consists. For this, and 
the reasons already given, it is unnecessary to examine 
each piece separately ; it will be sufficient to give a few 
examples of misunderstandings and defects, and then to 
quote his versions of representative poems and songs 
without special comment on each. 

The first is a mistranslation, to which I have already 
referred, of the word " Ca'." De Wailly falls into the 
general error in 

" Ca' the yowes to the knowes," 
and renders it — 

" Appelle les brebis sur les hauteurs," 
which is the more remarkable, seeing that in the " Death 
and Dying Words of Poor Mailie " he renders 

" But ca' them out to park or hill," 
quite accurately — 

" Mais dc les mener au pare ou & la montagne" ; 
and in " The CotUr's Saturday Night " 

" Some ca' the pleugh," 
is rendered with equal accuracy — 

" Les uns m^nent la charrue." 
A seemingly very absurd rendering of a compound of 
" ca' " is found in " The Second Epistle to Lapraik." 

" While new-ca'd kye rowte at the stake,' 
is given — 

" Tandis que les vaches qui viennent de vAler mugissent 

au poieau." ' 



' WhiUl the o 



s which have just calved low at the tfake. 



372 BURNS IN FRENCH 

I remember, indeed, seeing this interpretation in one glos- 
sary, but it is clearly wrong. Those who have resided with 
the country people in the south of Scotland know that 
it is the tendency to harden the pronunciation of " calf," 
indeed so much so that "calves" is often pronounced 
"caffs," and "the coo has caffed" is the expression used 
for "the cow has calved," so that had Bums meant 
"new-calved" he could, and no doubt would, have done 
so, by using the rustic expression " new-caffed," as it 
would still have retained the metre. The meaning is 
therefore clearly "cows newly driven to the byre," — a 
feature in one of those scenes of evening and morning, 
in this case of evening, which Burns so perfectly drew. 
Here he takes the "hour on e'enin's edge" to write to 
" honest-hearted auld Lapraik," when the kye newly driven 
home " rowte at the stake," and " pownies reek in plough 
or braik" — all having performed their daily work. The 
calving of the cows is clearly not in the picture. 

In "Scotch Drink," "Thou kitchens fine" takes quite 

a formidable shape in — 

" Tu lui tiens lieu de toute une cuisine." ^ 
Of course it should be rendered something like — 

" Avec toi a vraiment bon goiit" 
In the same piece, " chartered boast " rendered " le bateau 
fr^t^ " is pure carelessness. 

In " Death and Dr. Hornbook," 

" To stap or scaur me," 
he mistakes the meaning of "scaur" (to frighten), and 

renders it — 

" Pour m'arr^ter ou vcCestropierP * 

It should, of course, be " ou m'effrayer." 

^ Thou takest for him the place of a whole kitchen. 
' To stop or wound me. 



MISCELLANEOUS 



373 



Then "Qu'il attrappe son affaire" is not the nieaning 
of "He gets his fairin'," which should be more like "II 
aura sa r&ompense " {or " son dQ "). 

In the "Holy Fair," referring to "Racer Jess," he says 
"le courcur Jess," mistaking the sex, and thus has 
evidently not seized the meaning. Then "Se pressent 
en f^sant I'ceil aax filles," does not translate " Thrang 
winkin' on the lasses." He confounds "thrang" (busy) 
with to throng. 

In " Mary Morison " he translates " bide the stour " 
"endurerai la paussiire" which of course conveys no 
meaning. And "Surely ye'll be your pint stoup" in 
" Auld Lang Syne," is unhappily given by " Et k coup 
slir vous tiendrez voire pinte." 

And again, in "The Cottar's Saturday Night," 
"The soupe their only hawkie does afford" 
is misunderstood by de Wailly, who renders it 
" La soupe que foumit leur seule vache." 

Of course, the meaning of Burns's word is well known 
to those who have so often used the expression "bite 
and soupe" — a moment's reference to Jamieson's Dic- 
tionary would have kept him right; whilst occasionally 
one meets with very careless misprints. In "Tarn o' 
Shanter," " Manny " stands for " Nanny," and in " Willie 
Wastle," "Une femme corame celle de Madgie," instead 
of " de Willie." 

The above are the most serious errors which I have 
detected. There are naturally others which I did not 
think it necessary to notice; and upon the whole the 
translation, assisted by the literal, unrhymed verse, however 
undesirable it may be, is ^rly accurate. When reading 



374 



BURNS IN FRENCH 



this version, I am reminded of an incident that I noticed 
some time ago. I was in an old German church, when the 
" Te Deum " was sung in the course of the service. It feh 
strange and unhomely to hear a well-known tune sung to 
other than the accustomed words, and as I was musing 
on the sympathy and association of words with music, 
the choir burst forth with F. Killer's well-known hymn, 
''Singet Gott, denn Gott ist Liebe," to one of the old 
German melodies in a strain which kindled the deepest 
emotions. So with de Wailly; he has moulded the music 
of Burns's poetry into a form which displays neither its 
grace nor charm, however faithfully its meaning may be 
preserved; but if we turn to some of his native poetry, 
our discontent will disappear. 

I now give a few representative pieces from each of the 
classifications I have adopted in the other translations. 

^he (lottar'0 ^aturbag llight 

LE SAMEDI SOIR DANS LA CHAUAflERE, 
Leon de Wailly. 

Vous que je ch6ris, que j'honore et que je respecte, 6 mon ami f 

Ce n'est point un barde mercenaire qui vous fait son hommage t 
Avec un honn6te orgueil, je meprise toute vue ^goiste ; 

Ma plus chdre r&ompense, c'est Testime et la louange d*un ami. 
Pour vous je chante en simples lais ^cossais, 

L'humble classe Isolde de la sc6ne du monde ; 
Les sentiments naturals dans leur force, les voies innocentes ; 

Ce qu'aurait 6t6 Aiken dans une chaumi^re ; 
Ah ! quoique son mdrite efit (5td inconnu, il y eiit €i6 bien plus 
heureux, je crois 1 

Le froid Novembre souffle Jl grand bruit et avec colore ; 

La courte joumce d'hiver touche k son terme, 
Les betes fangeuses sont retires de la charrue, 

Les noires troupes de corbeaux songent au repos. 



THE COTTAR'S SATURDAY NIGHT 375 

Le paysan exc^d^ de fatigue quitte son travail : 

Ce soir sa scmaine dc labeur est finie ; 
11 rassemble ses baches, ses hoyaux ct ses houes, 

Esp^nint go&ter k I'aise le repos du matin, 
Et fatigu6, sur la bmyftre, il dirige sa course vers son \a^. 

Enfin sa chaumi^re isol6e apparait % sa vue, 

Abritfe sous un vieil arbre ; 
Ses petits enfants qui I'attendent accourent en trtbuchant 

Au-devant de leur p^re avec un tr^oussement et des cris de 

Son tout petit feu k la mine rianie, 

La proprete de son foyer, le sourire de sa femme tkonome, 
Le babil de I'enfant qui balbutie sur son genou, 

Trotnpeni tous ses soucis et son anxidt^ cuisante, 
Et lui font oublier enti6rement sa fatigue et sa peine. 

Bientot entrent les fils ain^s, 

En service au dehors, chez les fermiers d'alentour : 
Les uns m^nenl la charrue, d'autres les troupeaux, d'autres pru- 
dents vont faire 

line affaire avantageuse k la ville voisine. 
Leur premiere esp&rance, leur Jenny, devenue une femme, 

Dans la fleur de la jeunesse, I'ceil dtincelant d'amour, 
Arrive, peut-fitre pour monirer une belle robe neuve, 

Ou pour d^poscr ses gages pdniblement gagnds, 
Afin d'aider ses chers parents, s'ils sont dans la g6ne. 

Fr^res et soiurs vont au-devant avec une joie franche 
Et se demandent r^ciproquement avec bienveillance s'ils pros- 
p4rent 
Ainsi r^unis, les heures fuient d'une aile rapide sans qu'on s'en 
aper^oive ; 
Chacun raconie les nouvelles qu'il voit ou entend ; 
Les parents contemplent d'un ceil partial leurs ann^es pleines 
d'espoir j 
L'anticipation guide au loin la vue. 
La m^re, avec son aiguille et ses ciseaux. 

Fait paraitre les vieux habits prcsque comme neufs ; — 
Le pire entremde le tout d'admonitions convenables. 



376 BURNS IN FRENCH 

Tous les enfants sont avertis d'obdir 

Aux ordres de leur maitre et maitresse, 
£t de s'occuper de leurs travaux d'une main diligente, 

Et de ne jamais, quoique hors de vue, s'amuser ni jouer : 
" Et surtout, ne manquez pas de craindre toujours le Seigneur \ 

Et rendez-lui vos devoirs, comme il convient, matin et soir I 
De peur de vous ^garer dans la voie de la tentation, 

Implorez son conseil et sa puissante assistance : 
lis n'ont jamais cherch^ en vain, ceux qui ont bien cherch^ le 
Seigneur ! " 

Mais, chut ! on frappe doucement k la porte ; 

Jenny, qui sait ce que pareil coup veut dire, 
Raconte comme quoi un jeune gar^on voisin a traverse la bruy^re, 

Pour faire des commissions, et I'escorter jusqu'au logis. 
La m^re rus^e voit la conscience allumer une flamme 

Dans Poeil de Jenny et rougir sa joue ; 
La coeur p^n^trd de sollicitude inquiete, elle s'informe du nom, 

Tandis que Jenny est k demi eftVayde de parler; 
La m^re est bien contente d'apprendre que ce n*est point im 
mauvais sujet, un libcrtin. 

Avec une obligeante bienvenue, Jenny I'introduit. 

Un grand et beau gar^on ; il donne dans I'oeil k la mdre ; 
Jenny voit avec bonheur que la visite n'est pas mal prise ; 

Le p^re cause chevaux, charrues et vaches, 
Le coeur candide de jeune homme ddborde de joie, 

Mais, embarrass^ et honteux,il a peine k faire bonne contenance. 
La m^re, avec une ruse de femme, sait ddcouvrir 

Ce qui rend le gar^on si timide et si sdrieux ; 
Bien contente de penser que sa fille est respect^ comme une 
autre. 

O heureux amour ! quand un tel amour se trouve ! 

O ravissements du coeur ! — bonheur sans 6gal 1 
J*ai fait bien du chemin sur ce pdnible globe mortel, 

Et une sage experience m'ordonne de declarer ceci — 
" Si le ciel nous garde une coupe de plaisir celeste, 

Un cordial dans cette triste valine, 
C'est quand un couple jeune, amoureux et modeste, 



THE COTTAlfS SATURDAY NIGHT 3^7 

Les bras entnlac^s exhale son tendrc secret, 
Sous la blanche aub^pine qui parfume la brise du soir." 

Est-il sous forme humaine et porlant un cceur — 

Un miserable ! un sc^Wrat ! mort i I'amour et fk la v^riti ! 

Qui puisse, avec un art ^tudi£, pertide et insidieux, 
Trahir la confiante jeunesse de la chamiante Jenn)' ! 

Malddiction sur ses parjures artiftcieux ! sur ses flatteries men- 

L'honneur, la vertu, la conscience, sont-ils tous exil& 7 
N'est-il ui piii^, ni tendre commiseration 

Qui lui monire les parents idolitres de leur enfant ? 
Puis lui peigne la fille perdue, et I'^garement de leur d^sespoir 7 

Mais voici le souper qui couronne leur simple table, 

Le salubre parritch, la principale nourriture de TEcosse, 
La soupe que foumit leur seule vac he 

Qui, derri^re la cloison, nimine commod^menL 
La maitresse apporte, dans une intention civile, 

En faveur du jeune homme, son fromage conserve avec soin, 
et piquant, 
Et elle lui en offre souvent, et souvent il le d&Jare bon. 

La bonne m^nagire, qui aime \ jaser, raconte 
Comme quoi il ^tait vieux de douie mois quand le lin dtait dans 
la clochette. 

Le joyeux souper lini, d'un air s<£rieux 

lis formenl un grand cercle autour du foyer; 
Le p6re feuill^te avec la grilce d'un patriarche 

La grosse Bible de famille, jadis I'orgueil de son p^re ; 
Sa toque, respectueusemeni mise k I'^cart, 

Montre ses tempes grises qui se d^garnissent et se d^pouillent 1 
Ces chants qui jadis se r^pandaient si doux dans Sion, 

II en choisit une partie avec un soin judicieux, 
Et " Adorons Dieu I" dit-il d'un air solcnneL 

Us chantent leurs notes sans art d'une maniire simple ; 

lis accordent leurs cceurs, but bien autrement noble. 
Peut-^tie les melodies agrestes de Dundee se font entendre, 

Ou les Martyrs plaintifs, dignes de ce nom; 



378 BURNS IN FRENCH 

Ou le noble Elgin attise la flamme qui monte au ciel, 
Le plus doux, et de beaucoup, des chants sacr^s de TEcosse. 

Compares ^ ceux-lk, les fredons italiens sont sans d.ine ; 
Uoreille chatouill6e n'feveille au coeur aucun transport, 

lis ne sont pas k Tunisson de la louange de notre Cr6ateur. 

Le p^re, semblable k un prdtre, lit la sainte page. 

Comment Abraham ^tait I'ami de Dieu, qui est Ik-haut, 
Ou conmient Moise ordonna de faire une guerre ^temelle 

A la race perverse d^Amalec ; 
Ou comment le barde royal tomba en g^missant 

Sous le coup de Tire vengeresse du ciel ; 
Ou la plainte path^tique de Job, et son cri lamentable ; 

Ou Pardent feu seraphique d' I safe enlev^ ; 
Ou les autres saints voyants qui touchaient la lyre sacr^ 

Peut-^tre le volume chrdtien sert de th^me, 

Comment le sang innocent fut vers6 pour rhomme coupable ; 
Comment celui qui portait dans le ciel le second nom 

N'eut pas sur la terre de quoi reposer sa t6te : 
Comment ses premiers sectateurs et serviteurs prosp^r^rent, 

Les sages pr^ceptes qu'ils ^crivirent pour maint pays ; 
Conmient celui qui solitaire etait banni dans Pathmos 

Vit un ange puissant debout dans le soleil, 
Et entendit I'arr^t de la grande Babylone prononc6 par Tordre 
du ciel. 

Puis, s'agenouillant devant I'^ERNEL ROI DU CIEL, 

Le saint, le p^re et le mari prie : 
" L'Espoir s'elance ravi sur une aile triomphante " 

A I'idce de se retrouver tous ainsi aux jours k venir ; 
De se baigner k jamais dans des rayons incrd^s ; 

De ne plus soupirer ni verser de larme am^re, 
Chantant ensemble des hymnes k la louange de leur crdateur. 

En pareille soci^t^, mais encore plus ch^re, 
Tandis que le Temps d^crira un cercle dans une sphere ^temelle. 

Compart k ceci, combien pauvrc est Porgueil de la religion 

Dans toute la pompe de la m^thode et de Tart, 
Quand les hommes deploient dans de vastes assemblies 

Toutes les graces de la devotion, exceptd le coeur ! 



THE COTTAiPS SATURDAY NIGHT 379 

La Puissance suprSme, irritdc, di5sertera le spectacle, 

Le chant pompeux, 1'^tole sacerdotale ; 
Mais peut-£tre, bien loin dans quelque chaumi^re k part, 

Elle pourra entendre avec plaisir le langage de Time, 
Et en inscrire les pauvres babltancs dans son livre de vie. 
Alors chacun s'en retourne chei soi ; 

Les pelits pay sans vont se reposer ; 
Les deux 6poux rendent leur secret hommage, 

Et adressent au ciel la fervente prifere 
Que Celui qui apaise le nid bruyant du corbcau, 

Et pare le beau lis d'un ^clat fastueux, 
Veuille, de la maniire que sa sagesse juge la meilleurc, 

Pourvoir & leur existence el i celle de leurs petits enfants, 
Mais surtout r^ner sur leurs cosurs par la gr^ce divine. 
La grandeur de la vieille Ecosse prcnd sa source dans des seines 
cotnme celles-ci. 

Qui la font aimer au dedans et respecter au dehors : 
Les princes et les lords nc sont que I'dmanation des rois, 

" Un honn^te homtne est I'oeuvre la plus noble de Dieu" ; 
Et certes, sur la route celeste de la belle vertu, 

La cbaumiire laisse le palais bien loin derri^re. 
Qu'est-ce que la potnpe d'un chftif lord .' un fardeau incommode, 

D<£gutsant souvent la bassesse de I'esp^ce humaine, 
Vers^ dans les arts de I'enfer, et raffing en [Krversiid. 
O Ecosse I mon cher sol natal, 

Pour qui mon vceu le plus fervent est adress^ au ciel 1 
Puissenc longtemps tes robustes enfants, adonnds aux travaux 
rustiques, 

Jouir de la santd, de la paix et du doux contentement I 
Puisse le ciel preserver leur simple vie 

De la contagion du luxe, faible et vil ! 
Alors, quoique les couronnes et les fleurons soient bris6s, 

Une vertueuse populace peui s'^Iever cependant. 
El dresser un mur de feu autour de son He bien-aimte 
O toi, qui versas le torrent patriotique 

Qui coulait dans le coeur indompt^ de Wallace, 
Lequel osa noblement tenir ttte & I'orgueil tyrannique, 

Ou noblement mourir, second rflle glorieux 



380 BURNS IN FRENCH 

(Tu es particuli^rement le dieu du patriotc, 

Son ami, son inspiratcur, son tuteur et sa recompense ! } 
Oh 1 jamais, jamais n'abandonne le royaume d'Ecosse ; 

Mais que toujours les patriotes ou les bardes patriotes 
Se succ^dent avec ^clat pour son omement et sa defense ! 

^he JfoUg Ipegeaw. 

LES JOYEUX MENDIANTS, 
Leon de Wailly. 

CANTATE. 

Quand les feuilles grisonnantes jonchent la cour, 
Ou, voltigeant comme la chauve-souris, 

Obscurcissent le souffle du froid Bor6e ; 
Quand la gr^le fouette avec une violence cruelle, 
Et que les gel^es naissanies commencent k pincer 

Encore v6tues de blanc ; 
Un soir, k la brune, une bande joyeuse 

De gens errants et vagabonds 
Tinrent leur f^te chez Poosie Nancy 
Pour boir le superflu de leurs nippes : 
A trinquer et Jl rire 

lis s'amusaient et ils chantaient ; 
A force de sauier et de se donner des coups de poing, 
Ils faisaient vibrer Tassiette aux r6ties. 

Le premier pr^s du feu, en vieux haillons rouges, 

Un d'eux dtait assis, bien garni de besaces pleines de provisions, 

Et son havresac en ordre ; 
Sa catin couch^e sur son bras, 
EchaufTi^e par Tusquebaugh et des couvertures — 

Elle regardait en clignotant son soldat ; 
Et toujours il r^pondait aux baisers de la rude mediante 

Par un gros baiser, 
Tandis qu'elle levait sa bouche goulue 
Juste comme une ^cuelle k aum6ne. 
Chaque baiser claquait toujours 

Juste comme le fouet d'un cbarretier. 
Puis, chancelant et faisant le rodomont, 
II hurla cette chanson. 



THE JOLLY BBGCAKS 



Je suis un 61s de Mars, j'ai ^t^ k bien des guerres, 
Et je montre mes blessures et cicatrices partout oii /arrive ; 
CeUe-ci, je I'ai eue pour une tille, et cetce autre dans une traachde, 
En allani recevoir les Frangais au son du tambour. 

Lai de daudle, etc. 
Je lis mon apprentissage oEi mon g^nferal rendit !e demier soupir, 
Quand le Ai sanglant fut jetd sur les hauteurs d'Abram ; 
J'ai quittd le service quand la vaillante partie eut ^t^ jou^e, 
Et le Moro abaitu au son du tambour. 

Lai de daudle, etc 
Enfin j'^tais avec Curtis, au milieu des batteries flottantes ; 
Et, pour preuve, j'y laissai un bras et une jambe ; 
Mais, si mon paysavait besoin de moi, et qu'EUiot mc cominandSt, 
Je marquerais le pas, de mes moignons, au son du tambour. 

Lai de daudle, etc. 



;, quoique je doive mendicr 
jambe de bois, 
Et bien des haillons pendant sur mes fesses, 
Je suis aussi heureux avec ma besace, ma bouteille et ma catin, 
Que lorsqu'en ^arlate je suivais un tambour. 

Lai de daudle, etc. 
Quoique je doive en cbeveux blancs souienjr les chocs de I'hiver, 
N'ayant pour logis souvent que les bois et les rochers, 
Quand je vends mon second sac et que j'en suis \ ma seconde 

bouteille, 
Je pourrais affronter un escadron de I'enfer au son du tambour. 
Lai de daudle, etc 

BiCITATJF. 

II cessa, et les poutres trembl&rent 

Au'dessus du chceur nigissant, 
Tandis que les rats ^pouvant^s regardaient en atri^ 

Et gagnaient le fin-fond de leurs trous; 
Un divin joueur de violon, de son coin, 

Cria bis I 
Mais la belliqueuse poulette se leva, 

Et apaisa le bruyant tumalte. 



382 BURNS IN FRENCH 

AIR. 

Je fus jadis pucelle, quoique je ne puisse dire quand, 
£t toujours je me plais avec les jeunes gens bien fails. 
Mon p^re faisait partie d'un regiment de dragons, 
II n'est pas dtonnant que je sois Uprise d'un soldat. 
Chantez, lal de lal, etc. 

Le premier de mes amants dtait un franc tapageur ; 
Battre le tambour retentissant dtait son mdtier ; 
Son jarret dtait si ferme et sa joue si rubiconde, 
Que j'dtais ravie de mon soldat 
Chantez, lal de lal, etc. 

Mais le digne vieux aum6nier lui joua un mauvais tour, 
Et j'abandonnai I'dpde pour I'amour de I'Eglise ; 
II aventura Time et je risquai le corps : 
Ce fut alors que je devins in fiddle k mon soldat 
Chantez, lal de lal, etc. 

Je me ddgoOtai bientot de mon sot sanctifid, 
Je pris pour moi le regiment en masse ; 
Depuis Tesponton dord jusqu'au fifre, j'dtais pr^te ; 
Tout ce que je demandais, c'etait qu'on fdt soldat 
Chantez, lal de lal, etc. 

Mais la paix m'a rdduite k mendier de ddsespoir, 

Jusqu*k ce que j'aie rencontrd mon vieux gargon k la foire de 

Cunningham ; 
Ses lambeaux d'uniforme voltigeaient si splendides ! 
Mon coeur se rdjouit de voir un soldat. 
Chantez, lal de lal, etc. 

Et maintenant j'ai vdcu — ^je fle sais pas combien de temps, 
Et je puis toujours prendre ma part d'un pot ou d'une chanson ; 
Mais tant que des deux mains je pourrai tenir ferme mon verre, 
A ta santd, mon hdros, mon soldat I 
Chantez, lal de lal, etc 

R^CITATIF. 

Le pauvre paillasse dans un coin 
Etait assis goinfrant avec une chaudronni^re ; 



THE JOLLY BEGGARS 

Peu lui importait qui entonnait le chceur, 

Tant ils ^talent occupds entre cux 
Enfin, ^tourdj dc boire et dc faire Tamour, 

II chancela ei fit une grimace ; 
Ensuite il se tourna, et donna un gros baiser k Grinie, 

Puis pr^para sa cornemuse avec une gravity grotesque. 



Sir Jugement est une bfite quand il est ivre. 
Sir Coquin est une b£te aux assises ; 

II n'est Ik qu'un apprenti, je pense ; 
Mais, moi, je suis une bfte de profession. 

Ma grand'mainan m'a achet^ un livre 

Et j'ai i\.€ \ I'^ole ; 
Je crains d'avoir m^onnu mon talent, 

Mais que pouvez-vous esp^rer d'une bete ? 
Pour la boisson je risquerais mon cou, 

Une fille est la moiti^ de mon occupation ; 
Mais quelle autre chose pouvez-vous attendre 

D'un homme qui est aver^ stupide ? 

Une fois je fus attach^ comme un jeune taureau 

Pour avoir bu et jure civilcmeni ! 
Une fois je fus censur^ dans T^glisc 

Pour avoir houspilld une lille dans ma gaietd 

Le pavivre paillasse qui saute pour amuser. 

Que personne nc le nomme en se moquant ; 
II y a k la cour mfme, m'a-t-on dtt, 

Un sauteur appeW le Premier ministre. 
Voyei-vous ce jeune rdvdrend 

Faire des grimaces pour emoustiller la populace ? 
II rit de notre bandc de charlatans — 

C'est une rivalit^ de metier. 



ais tirer ma conclusion, 
Car, ma foi 1 j'ai le gosier diablement sec ; 
Celui qui est bfite pour lui-m£me, 
Bon Dieu ! celui-lk est bien plus stupide que moi. 



384 BURNS IN FRENCH 

R^CITATIF. 

Ensuite prit la parole une vigoureuse matrone 

Qui savait tr^s-bien attraper I'argent, 

Car elle avait accrochd plus d'une bourse, 

£t avait ^t^ plong^ dans plus d'un cachot 

Son tourtereau avait €x.€ un homme des Hautes-Terres ; 

Mais que de gens ont pour lot la corde fatale ! 

Avec des soupirs et des sanglots elle commen^a ainsi 

A pleurer son beau John le montagnard. 

AIR. 

Mon amant ^tait n6 dans les Hautes-Terres, 
II tenait en m^pris les lois des Basses-Terres ; 
Mais toujours il fut fldMe k son clan, 
Mon brave et beau John le montagnard. 

CHCEUR. 

Chantez, oh I mon John le montagnard ! 
Chantez, oh ! mon John le montagnard ! 
II n'y a pas un gargon dans tout le pays 
Egal k mon John le montagnard. 

Avec sa jupe courte et son plaid de tartan, 
Et sa bonne claymore \ son c6t^, 
II attrapait le cceur des dames, 
Mon brave et beau John le montagnard. 
Chantez, etc. 

Nous battions tous le pays de la Tweed k la Spey, 
Et nous vivions gaiement comme des lords et des ladies ; 
Car il ne craignait pas une figure des Basses-Terres, 
Mon brave et beau John le montagnard. 
Chantez, etc. 

lis le bannirent au delk des mers ; 
Mais, avant que le bourgeon fOt sur Tarbre, 
Le long de mes joues couraient des perles 
En embrassant mon John le montagnard. 
Chantez, etc. 

Mais, h^las ! ils ont fini par le prendre, 
Et Pont attach^ ferme dans un cachot ; 



THE JOLLY BEGGARS 

MalMiction sur cux tous \ 

lis ont pendu mon beau John Ic montagnard. 

Chantez, eic. 
Et, veuve maincenant, il me faut pleurer 
Les plaisirs qui nc revtendront plus ; 
Rien ne me console qu'un grand pot it botre 
Quand je pense & John le montagnard. 

Chantez, etc. 

r£c[tatif. 
Un pygm6e de radeur, qui avec son violon 
Avait coutume de sa dandiner aux marches et au. 
Cette jambe vigoureusc et cette ^paisse taille 

(II n'atteignait pas plus baut) 
Avaient perc^ son cceur comme un crible, 

Et I'avaient mis en feu, 
La main sur la hanche, et I'Deil en I'air, 
II fredonna sa gamme, une, deux, trob, 
Puis sur un ton arioso, 

Le petit Apollon 
Orna d'un joyeux allegretto 

Son solo. 

AIR. 

Laissez-moi me lever pour essuyer cette lanne, 
Et veoei avec moi et soyei ma chtfrie, 

Pourront siffler sur le re 



Je suis violon de mon metier ; 
Et, de tous les airs que j'ai jamais joucs, 
Le plus ^rtfable k femme ou fille, 
Put toujours, sifHez sur le reste. 
Nous serons aux soupers de la moisson et aux nc 
Et comme nous nous y r^alerons bien \ 
Nous trinquerons jusqu'Ji ce que Papa Souci 
Chante, sifllez sur le reste. 



386 BURNS IN FRENCH 

Nous rongerons si gaiement les os, 
£t nous nous chaufferons contre le mur, 
£t, k notre loisir, quand nous voudrons, 
Nous sifflerons sur le reste. 
Je suis, etc. 

Mais Guvre-moi le ciel de tes charmes, 
Et, tant que je chatouillerai le crin sur les cordes k boyau, 
La faim, le froid et tous les maux semblables 
Pourront siffler sur le reste. 
Je suis, etc. 

RlfeCITATIF. 

Ses charmes avaient frapp^ un vigoureux drouineur 
En m^me temps que le pauvre racleur de cordes ; 

II prend le violon par la barbe, 
Et tire une rapi^re rouillde — 

II jura par tout ce qui ^tait digne d'un jurement 

De Fexp^dier comme un pluvier, 
A moins qu'il ne vouKit, k dater de ce jour, 

Renoncer k elle pour jamais. 

L'ceil effar^, le pauvre crin-crin 

Se mit k deux genoux 
Et demanda grice d'un air piteux ; 

Et ainsi finit la querelle. 

Mais, quoique son petit coeur souffrit 

Quand le chaudronnier la serra contre lui, 
II feignit de rire dans sa manche 

Quand le drouineur s'adressa k elle ainsi : 

AIR. 

Ma belle fille, je travaille dans le cuivre : 

Chaudronnier, voilk ma condition ; 
J'ai voyag^ par toute la chr^tient^ 

En exergant ce metier. 
J*ai pris Fargent, j'ai ix€ enrdld 

Dans maint noble escadron ; 
Mais lis cherch^rent en vain, quand je d^ampai 

Pour aller rapi^er le chaudron. 
J'ai pris For, etc. 



THE JOLL Y BEGGARS 3 

DMalgncz cet avorton, ce magoi fanv, 

Avec (out son bniit et ses cabrioles, 
Et associei-vous Ji ceux qui portent 

La bougette et le sac de cuir. 
Et par cette tasse, ma foi et man esperance, 

Et par ce chcr Kilbagie, 
Si jamais vous manquei, ou que vous ayei peu, 

Puiss^je ne jamais humecter mon gosier. 
Et par cette tasse, etc. 

RECITATIF. 

Le drouineur Temporta — la belle sans rougir 

Tomba dans ses bras, 
Compleiement vaincue, moitie par I'amour, 

Moiti^ par I'ivrease. 

Sir Violino, d'un air 

Qui montrait un homme d'esprii, 
Souhaita au couple un bon accord, 

Et tit sonner creux la bouteille 
A leur sant^ cette nuit. 

Mais ce gamement de Cupidon d&ocha une flicht 

Qui joua un mauvais tour k une dame ; 
Le violon I'atiaqua de I'avant i I'arri^re 

Derri^re la cage ^ poulets. 
Son mattre et seigneur, qui suivait la profession d'Homfre, 

Quoique boitant des eparvins, 
Se leva cabin caba, et sauta comme en ddire 

Et les mena^a du chatmant Davie, 
Cette nuit 

C'^tait un gaillard narguant le cbagrin. 

Si jamais Bacchus en a enroll 1 
Quoique la Fortune pesit crucllement sur lul, 

EUe n'atteignait jamais son coeur. 
11 n'avait d'autre vccu que— d'etre gai, 

D'autre besoin que— la soif ; 
11 ne haissait que— d'Strc tristc, 

Et la muse lui inspira 

La cbanson suivante cette nuit 



388 BURNS m FRENCH 

AIR. 

Je suis un barde sans consideration 
Aux yeux des gens comme il faut, et tout cela ; 

Mais, comme Hom^re, I'essaim ^merveill^ 
De ville en ville me suit qk ct Ik. 

CHCEUR. 

Apr^s tout cela, apr^s tout cela, 

£t deux fois autant que cela ; 
Je n'en ai perdu qu'une, il m'en reste deux : 

J'ai assez de femmes apr^s tout cela. 

Je n'ai jamais bu k I'^tang des muses, 

Au ruisseau de Castalie, et tout cela ; 
Mais voyez ceci qui ruisselle et qui ^cume abondamment, 

C'est mon Helicon, \ moi, cela. 
Apr^s tout cela, etc. 

J'ai un grand amour pour toutes les belles, 

Je suis leur humble esclave, et tout cela ; 
Mais la volont^ du mattre, je n'en regarde pas moins 

Conune un p^cb^ mortel d'enfreindre cela. 
Apr^s tout cela, etc. 

Dans de doux transports nous ^changeons k cette heure 

Un amour mutuel, et tout cela ; 
Mais combien de temps la puce pourra piquer. 

Que I'inclination r^gle cela. 
Apr^s tout cela, etc. 

Leurs tours et leur ruse m'ont rendu fou, 

EUes m'ont mis dedans, et tout cela. 
Mais ^vacuez le pont, et voici — le sexe 1 

J'aime les coquines, apr^s tout cela. 

CHCEUR. 

Apr^s tout cela, apr^s tout cela, 

£t deux fois autant que cela, 
Mon sang le plus prdcieux, pour leur bien. 

Est k leur service, apr^s tout cela. 



THE JOLLY BEGGARS 
R^CITATIF, 

Ainsi chanta le barde— ct ks mure dc Nansie 
Furent dbranlds par un tonnerre d'applaudissemenu 

R^pd^s par chaque boucbe ; 
lis vidSrent leurs bissacs, et mircnt leurs nippes en ga 
lis gard^rent k peine de ijuoi couvrir leurs derri^res, 

Pour dtancher leur soif btdlante. 
Alors de nouveau le joviale assemble 

Demanda au poite 
De d^faire son ballot et de choisir une chanson, 
Une ballade des meilleures \ 
Lui, se levant, joyeux, 

Entre scs deux Ddbora, 
Regarda autour de lui, et les vit 
Impatienls d'entonner le choeur. 



Voyez ! le pot fumant devant nous, 
Observez notre cercle jovial en guenilles 1 

Reprenez le cteur \ la ronde, 
Et chantons avec transport 

CH(EUR. 

Foin dc ceux que la loi prot^e ! 

La liberty est un splendide festin \ 
Les COUrs furent ^rig^s pour les lichcs, 

Les eglises bities pour plaire aux pr£tre 

Qu'est'Ce qu'un tjtre ? qu'est-ce qu'un tr^sor ? 

Qu'esi-ce que le soin de ia r^utation ? 
Si nous menons une vie de plaisir, 

Qu'importe oii et comment ! 

Un tour et un conte toujours pr£ts. 

Nous errons toute la joumde ; 
Et la nuit, dans la grange ou I'^table, 

Nous cai^ssons nos catins sur le foin. 
Foin, etc 



390 



BURNS IN FRENCH 



Le carrosse suivi d'une escorte 

Parcourt-il plus \€%tx la campagne ? 
Le sage lit du manage 

Voit-il de plus brillantes scenes d'amour ? 
Foin, etc. 

La vie n'est que bigamires, 

Nous ne nous inqui^tons pas comment elle va ; 
Qu'ils fassent de ITiypocrisie sur le decorum, 

Ceux qui ont des reputations k perdre. 
Foin, etc. 

Je bois aux bougettes, aux bissacs et aux besaces ! 

Je bois k toute la bande vagabonde ! 
Je bois \ nos catins et k nos babouins en guenilles ' 
D'une seule et m^me voix criez — Amen I 
Foin de ceux que la loi protege ! 

La liberty est un splendide festin ! 
Les cours furent drig^s pour les licbes, 
Les dglises bities pour plaire aux prStres. 

^C0t0, toha hae. 

BANNOCKBURN, Leon de Wailly. 

Ecossais, qui avez saign^ sous Wallace, 
Ecossais, que Bruce a souvent conduits, 
Soyez les bienvenus k votre lit sanglant 
Ou k la victoire glorieuse. 

Voici le jour et voici I'heure, 
Voyez le front de la bataille se rembrunir ; 
Voyez approcher les forces de Torgueilleux Edouard- 
Edouard ! les chaines et I'esclavage 1 

Qui sera un inf&me traitre ? 
Qui peut remplir sa tombe d'un liche ? 
Qui assez bas pour dtre esclave ? 
Traitre ! liche 1 toume et fuis ! 

Qui pour le roi et la loi de PEcosse 
Veut tirer avec vigueur Pdp^ de la liberty, 
Vivre homme libre, ou p^rir homme libre ? 
Cal^donien, allons, avec moi ! 



SCOTS. WHA HAE 



Nous tariroDs nos plus pr^ieuses vcines, 

Mais ils seront — ils seront libres ! 
Jetons k bas ces fiers usurpateurs I 
Un tyran tombe dans chaque ennemi I 
La. liberty est dans chaque coup 1 
En avant 1 vaincre ou mourir ! 



Jlnlb Jpanfl ^s"*- 

LE BON flEUX TEMPS. LEON DB WaILLY. 

Est-ce que notre ancienne liaison s'oublierait, 

£t ne nous reviendrait plus i I'esprit? 

Est-ce que notre ancienne liaison s'oublierait, 

Et aussi les jours du bon vieux temps? 

CHa:uR. 

Pour te bon vieux lemps, mon cbcr, 

Pour le bon vieux temps 
Nous boirons encore un coup de bonne amiti^. 
Four le bon vieux temps. 
Nous avons tous deux couni sur les coieaux 

Et cueilli les belles marguerites ; 
Mais nous avons plus d'une fois tra!n^ nos pieds fatigues : 
Depuis le bon vieux temps. 
Pour le bon vieux temps, etc 
Nous avons tous deux pataug^ dans le niisseau, 

Depuis le lever du soleil jusqu'au diner; 
Mais les vastes mcrs ont nigi entre nous, 
Depuis !e bon vieux temps. 
Pour le bon vieux temps, etc 
El voici ma main, mon fiddle ami, 

Et donne-moi la tienne, 
Et nous boirons un coup de tout cceur 
Pour le bon vieux temps. 
Pour le bon vieux temps, etc. 



392 BUHNS IN FRENCH 

£t k coup sQr vous tiendrez votre pinte, 
£t k coup sdr je tiendrai la mienne, 

£t nous boirons un coup de bonne amiti^ 
Pour le bon vieux temps. 
Pour le bon vieux temps, etc 

MARY MORI SON, I.KON de Wailly. 

O Mary, sois k ta fen^tre, 

Cest I'heure souhait^ Tbeure convenue ! 
Laisse-moi voir ces sourires et ces regards 

Qui rendent pauvre le tr^sor de Favare : 
Avec quelle joie j'endurerais la poussi^re, 

Esclave fatigud, de soleil en soleil. 
Si je pouvais m'assurer cette riche r^comj>ensc. 

La charmante Mary Morison ! 

Hier, lorsqu'au son de la corde tremblante 

La danse traversait la salle illuminee, 
Ma pensde prit son vol vers toi, 

J'^tais assis mais je n'entendais ni ne voyais ; 
Quoique celle-ci f(it jolie, et que celle-lk fut belle, 

£t celle Ik-bas la coqueluche de toute la ville, 
Je soupirai, et dis au milieu d'elles toutes : 

" Vous n'^tes pas Mary Morison." 

O Mary, peux-tu ddtruire la paix de celui 

Qui serait heureux de mourir pour toi ? 
Ou peux-tu briser le cceur de celui 

Dont la seule faute est de t'aimer ? 
Si tu ne veux pas donner amour pour amour, 

Au moins montre moi de la piti^ ! 
Une dure pens^ ne peut 6tre 

La pens^ de Mary Morison. 

MA NANNIE EST PARTIE, Leon de Wailly. 

Voici que la Nature joyeuse se pare de son vert manteau 
£t ^coute les agpieaux qui b^lent sur les coUines^ 



MY NANNIE'S AlVA' 



393 



Tandis que les oiseaux \a saluent de leur gazouillement dans 

chaque bois vert ; 
Mais pour moi tout cela est sans chaime — ma Nannie est pajtie. 
Le perce-neige et la primevire ornent nos bois, 
El les violettes se baignent dans lliumidil^ du matin ; 
Ellcs font mal k man triste coeur, de fleurir si cbannantes, 
Elles me rappcUent Nannie— ma Nannie qui est partie. 
Alouette qui t'dlances de la rus^ de la prairie 
Pour avertir le berger des grises lueurs de I'aube, 
Et toi, m^todieuK mauvU, qui salues le tomber de la nuit, 
Cessei par piti6 — ma Nannie est partie. 
Viens, Automne, si pensive, v£tue de jaune et de gris, 
Et calme-moi avec les nouvelles de la nature en decadence, 
Le sombre et lugubre hiver, la neige qui fond avec violence 
Seuls peuvent me plaire — maintenant que Nannie est paitie. 



Sast ^aji a flralD SBooet. 

BALLADE ACOSSAJSE. LfcoK DE Watli.v, 

En mai dernier un beau galant descendit la longue vall^ 

Et m'assaurdit cruellement de son amour : 
Je dis qu'il n'y avait rien que je ddtestasse autant que les hommes. 

Le diable I'emporte de m'avoir cm, de m'avoir cru, 

Le diable I'emporte de m'avoir era t 
11 parla de dards dans mes beaux yeux noirs, 

Et jura qu'il mourait d'amour pour moi ; 
Je dis qu'il pouvait mourir tant qu'il voudrait pour Jeanne, 

Dieu me pardonne d'avoir menti, d'avoir menii, 

Dleu me paidonne d'avoir menti i 
Une ferine bien mont^, dont lui-mSme ^tait le laird, 

Et le mariage sur-le -champ, dtaient ses propositions ; 
Je ne laissai pas voir que je le savais, ou m'en souciais, 

Mais je pensais que je pouvais avoir des ofTres pires, des 
olfres pires, 

Mais je pensais que je pouvais avoir des ofires pires. 
Mais, que croyei-vous ! au bout de quinie jours, ou moins, 

Le diable lui donna I'envie d'aller pr^ d'elle. 



394 



BURNS IN FRENCH 



II monta par Gateslack chez ma cousine Bessy ! 
Jugez si, cette p^ore, je pus la souffrir, la souffrir, 
Jugez si, cette p^core, je pus la souffrir ! 

Mais, toute la semaine suivante 6tant d^vor^ de soucis, 

J'allai k la foire de Dalgamock, 
£t ne voilk-t-il pas que mon beau volage ^tait Ik ! 

J'ouvris de grands yeux comme si j'avais vu un sorcier, un 
sorcier, 

J'ouvris de grands yeux comme si j'avais vu un sorcier. 

Mais par-dessus mon ^paule gauche je lui lan^ai une oeiUade, 
De peur que les voisins ne pussent dire que j'^tais effront^ ; 

Mon galant cabriola comme s'il ^tait pris de boisson, 
£t jura que j'^tais sa bien-aim^, sa bien-aim6e, 
Et jura que j'^tais sa bien-aim^e. 

Je demandai des nouvelles de ma cousine, dun ton doux ct 
affectueux, 
Si elle avait recouvr^ I'ouie, 
£t comment ses souliers neufs allaient k ses vieux pieds contre- 
faits — 
Mais, 6 ciel ! comme il se mit k jurer, k jurer, 
Mais, 6 ciel ! comme il se mit k jurer ! 

II me conjura, pour I'amour de Dieu, de vouloir bien ^tre sa femme, 

Sans quoi le chagrin le tuerait : 
Si bien que, pour conserver la vie au pauvre h^re, 

Je pense que je dois I'^pouser demain, demain, 

Je pense que je dois I'^pouser demain. 



^nncan (Stag. 

DUNCAN GRA Y, Leon de Wailly. 

Duncan Gray vint ici faire sa cour, 

Ah ! ah ! quelle cour I 
Le joyeux soir de Noel que nous ^tions gris 

Ah ! ah ! quelle cour ! 
Maggie leva bien haut la tete, 
Regarda de travers et tr^s-fi^rement, 
Et forga le pauvre Duncan de se tenir k distance. 

Ah ! ah ! quelle cour ! 



DUNCAN GRA Y 395 

DuDcan supptia, et Duncan pria, 

Ah ! ah ! etc. 
Meg fut aussi sourde qu'Ailsa Craig, 

Ah ! ab I etc. 
Duncan soupira en dehors et en dedans, 
Pleura k se troubler et k se perdre la vue, 
Paria de sauter dans une chute d'eau \ 

Ah ] ah I etc. 
Le temps et la chance ne sont qu'une inar6e, 

Ah 1 ah ! etc. 
L'amour d^daign^ est dur k supporter. 

Ah ! ah 1 etc. 
Imi-je, comnie un sot, dit-il, 
Mourir pour une p^ore hautaine? 
EUc peui allcr— en France poor moi ! 

Ah ! ah I etc. 
Comment cela se fait, que les docteurs le disent, 

Ah 1 ab I etc. 
Meg devint tnalade — \ mesure qu'il devint bien portant, 

Ah ! ah 1 etc. 
Quelque chose la blesse au cceur. 
Pour se soulager elle pousse un soupir, 
Et, Dieu ! ses yeux, Us disaient tant de choses ! 

Ah 1 ah 1 etc. 
Duncan dtait un garqon compatissant ; 

Ah 1 ah 1 etc. 
L'^tat de Maggie ritait piteux, 

Ab I ab ! etc. 
Duncan ne pouvait pas la tuer, 
La piti^ grandissant ^touffa sa rancune ; 
Mainlenant lis sont contents et joyeux tous les deux. 

Ah I ah 1 quelle cour I 



Gf s' the Jliitff. 

J'AIME MA JEANNE. Lkon dB Waill». 

Entre tous les points d'oii le vent souffle, 
Je priftre beaucoup I'ouesi ( 



396 BU/^NS IN FRENCH 

Car Ik demeure la jolie fille, 

La fille que j'aime le mieux : 
Lk croissent des bois sauvages, et roulent des rivieres, 

£t plus d'une montagne est entre nous ; 
Mais jour et nuit le vol de ma pens^ 

Me ram^ne aupr^s de ma Jeanne. 

Je la vois dans Ics fleurs couvertes de ros^e, 

Je la vois belle et suave ; 
Je I'entends dans les oiseaux m^lodieux, 

Je I'entends charmer I'air : 
II n'est pas une jolie fleur qui pousse 

Pr^s d'une source, dans un bois ou un prd ; 
II n'est pas un bel oiseau qui chante 

Qui ne me rappelle ma Jeanne. 

^0 a Jttouee. 

A UNE SOUR/S, 
DONT J'aVAIS DfiTRUIT LE NID AVEC MA CHAR RUE 

en novembre 1 785. 
Leon de Wailly. 

Petite b^te lisse, farouche ct craintive, 
Oh, quelle panique dans ton sein ! 
Tu n'as pas besoin de te sauver si vite 

Et d'un pas si pr^cipite ! 
II me rdpugnerait de courir apr^s toi 

Avec le curoir meurtrier ! 

Je suis vraiment fich^ que la domination de Thomme 
Ait rompu le pacte social de la nature, 
Et qu'elle justice cette mauvaise opinion 

Qui te fait fuir 
Devant moi, ton pauvre compagnon sur la terre, 

Et mortel comme toi ! 

Je sais bien que parfois tu voles ! 

Mais quoi ? Pauvre petite b^te, il faut que tu vivcs ! 

De temps k autre un ^pi de h\€ sur deux douzaines 

Est une faible requite : 
Cela portera bonheur au reste 

Et ne me fera jamais faute ! 



TO A MOUSE 39 

Ta toule petite maisonnette aussi, en mines ! 
Les vents en ^parpillent les mis^rables murs I 
Et rien, ^ present, -pour en bAtir une nouvelle 

De mousse vene 1 
Et les vents du froid d^cembre qui arrivent, 

Apres et mordants ! 
Tu voyais les champs nus et dfpouillds, 
Et rhiver rigoureux accourir, 
Et chaudcment ici, i I'abri de son halelne, 

Ta croyais demeurer, 
Lorsque, crac ! le soc cruei a pass^ 

A travers ta cellule ! 
Ce tout petit tas de feuilles et de chaume 
T'a co(it6 bien des grignotements ! 
Maintenant tu es exputs^e, pour fmit de toute ta peme, 

Sans maisott ni logis, 
Pour supporter les oeiges fondues de I'hiver, 

Et les froides gel^es blanches. 
Mais, petite souris, tu n'es pas la seule 
A iprouver que la pr^voyance peut dire vaine : 
Les plans les mieux combines des souris et des hommes 

Toument sou vent de traversi 
Et ne nous laissent que chagrin et peine 

Au lieu de la joie promise. 
Tu es encore beureuse, compart ^ moi ! 
Le present seul te touche ; 
Mais, h^las ! je jette I'oeil en arri^re 

Sur de lugubres perspectives, 
Et ce qui est devant, quoique je ae puisse pas le vwr, 

Jc le devine et le crains I 

'So a ^aunttttn SlAicg. 

i UNE MARGUERITE. 
TOMBfis SOUS MA CHAKKIIB BN AVft[L I7S6. 

L£ok UB Waillv. 
Modeste petite fleur bord^ de rouge, 
Tu m'as rencontr^ dans une heure fatale ; 



398 BURNS IN FRENCH 

Car il faut que j'6:rase dans la poussi^re 

Ta mince tige ; 
T'^pargner k present d^passe mon pouvoir, 

Joli joyau des champs. 

H^las ! ce n'est pas ta douce voisine, 

La gentille alouette, compagne convenable, 

Qui te courbe dans Fhumide ros^. 

La gorge tachet^e, 
Lorsqu'elle s'(51ance dans les airs, joyeuse de saluer 

L'orient qui s'empourpre. 

Le nord, k I'dpre morsure, souffla froid 
Sur ta naissance humble et pr^coce ; 
Pourtant tu pergas gaiement le sol 

Au milieu de la temp^te, 
Elevant k peine au-dessus de la terre matemelle 

Ta forme delicate. 

Les fleurs 6clatantes que nos jardins produisent, 

II faut qu'un haut rempart d'arbres et de murs les protege; 

Mais toi, sous Taccidentel abri 

D'une motte ou d'une pierre, 
Tu ornes Taride champ d'^teule, 

Inaper^ue, solitaire. 

Lk, envelopp^e de ton ^troit manteau, 
Ton sein de neige ^tal^ au soleil, 
Tu l^ves ta t€te sans pretention 

D*une humble mani^re ; 
Mais maintenant le soc ddtruit ton lit, 

Et tu gis k terre ! 

Tel est le sort de la tille naive, 

Douce fleurette du champdtre ombrage, 

Trahie par la simplicity de Tamour 

Et par son innocente confiance, 
Jusqu'k ce que, comme toi, toute souillde, elle soit gisante 

A terre dans la poudre. 

Tel est le sort du simple Barde, 

Lance sous une mauvaise ^toile dans la mer agit^ de la vie ! 
Inhabile qu*il est k observer la carte 
De rhabile prudence. 



TO A MOUNTAIN DAIS Y 39 

Jusqu'k ce que les vagues se courroucent, et que les venl 
soufHent violemment 

Et le fassent succomber \ 
Tel est le sort r^serv^ au m^riie malheureux, 
Qui longtemps a 1utt£ contre les besoins et les peincs, 
Poussri par I'orgueil ou I'astuce des hommes 

Au bord de la mis^re, 
Jusqu'k ce que, d^possM^ de tout autre appui que le ciel, 

II s'afTaisse, niin^ ! 
Toi-m£me, qui pleins le sort de cette marguerite, 
Ce sort est le tien ;— k une dpoque peu ^loign^ 
Le soc de la cnielle Destruction passe fitrement 

En plein sur ta lleur, 
Jusqu'^ ce que d'etre dcras^ sous le poids du gueret 

Soit ta destin^ '. 



la rose rouge, rouge. 

Leon ub Waillv. 

Oh I mon amour est comme la rose rouge, rouge, 

Qui est nouvellement ^close en juin. 
Oh ! mnn amour est comme la mdlodie 

Qui est harmonieusemcnt chants en parties 
Autant tu es jolie, ma loute betle, 

Autant jc suis amoureux ; 
Et je continuerai de t'aimer, ma chirc, 

Jusqu'k ce que les mers soieni k sea 
Jusqu'k ce que ies mers soient ^ sec, ma chirc, 

Et que les rochers fondent au soleil ; 
Je continuerai de t'aimer, ma ch^re, 

Tant que coulera le sable de la vie. 
Et adieu, mon seul amour 1 

Et adieu pour quelque temps I 
Et je reviendrai, mon amour. 

Quand je serais ^ dix mille lieues. 



400 BURXS IX FRENCH 

® tDtrt ^hoQ in the Caulb ^laet 

A USE DAME, L^s DE Wailly. 

Oh ! si tu ^tais en butte au froid ouragan, 

Sur la prairie Ui-bas, sur la prairie Ik-bas, 
Opposant mon plaid k son courroux, 

Je t'abriterais, je t'abriterais ; 
Ou si les cruelles temp^tes de Tinfortune 

Soufflaient autour de toi, soufflaient autour de toi, 
Mon sein serait ton asile, 

£t pour toi seule, et poi^r toi seule. 

Ou si j'^tais dans le lieu le plus sauvage, 

Le plus sombre et le plus nu, le plus sombre et le plus nu, 
Ce desert serait un paradis 

Si tu y ^tais, si tu y etais ; 
Ou si j'^tais monarque de ce globe, 

Regnant avec toi, r^nant avec toi, 
Le plus brillant joyau de ma couronne 

Ce serait ma reine, ce serait ma reine. 

Burns: Traduit de TEcossais avec Preface 
par Richard de la Madelaine.^ 

This little volume looks so chaste and classical that the 
disappointment is all the greater when one comes to 
examine its contents. The preface is enthusiastic, but 
superficial ; for instance, '' Glamis " is mentioned as the 
manor where Lady Macbeth stabbed King Malcolm,^ 
Shakespeare's account being that it was Macbeth who 
murdered King Duncan. 

" Scots, who hae with Wallace bled," 
instead of 

" Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled," 

' Burns, translated from the Scotch, with Preface, by Richard de la 
MadelaiDe. 
' Glamis od Lady Macbeth poignarda le roi Malcolm. 



THE COTTAR'S SATURDAY NIGHT 401 

is another of the specimens of superficiality, indeed of 
carelessness, that are to be found in it There is more 
imagination than accuracy in saying that the cabmen in 
Edinbui^h have all an edition of Burns in their pockets.* 
Examples of careless lenderings are so abundant, and 
de Wailly's version is so much more accurate that one 
nonders why M. de la Madelaine did not select some 
pieces from this older collection ; for, indeed, in many 
cases he gives verses word for word from de Wailly, and 
it is a pity he did not do this with all I give a few 
specimens which call forth the above criticism. 

'Cht (tottat's ^attttbaj! ^tgKt. 
" The saint, the father, and the husband prays," 
he gives 

" Lc p6re et I'^poux prient avec ferveur."* 
This is sheer carelessness in substituting the plural for the 
singular, and the rendering is miserably weak, and all the 
more unpardonable with de Wailly's correct version 
before him — 

" Le saint, le p<ire, el I'^poux prie." 
Then, 

" Le villageois, accabl^ de fatigue, 
Vient ce soir de terminer sa semaine de travail, 
II rassemble ses tteches, ses hoyaux, 
Et se dirige vers sa demeure k travers les bruy^res 
En se prometlant de go(iter le lendemain les douceurs du 

with no rhyme or rhythm to observe, is offered as a 
literal translation of 

' Dont les ccichers de fiacre d'Edimboui^ eux-mfmcs onl lous une 
Mil ion dans leur poche. 

* The father sod the husband /nty with fervonr. 



402 



BURNS IN FRENCff 



" The toil-worn Cottar frae his labour ^oes, 
This night his weekly moil is at an end ; 
Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes. 
Hoping the mom in ease and rest to spend. 
And, weary, o'er the moor, his course does homeward bend.' 

" Villageois " should be ** paysan." The fine touch, " wtary^ 
o*er the moor," is entirely lost in the bald *• h. travers Ics 
bruy^res." Two lines are needlessly transposed, and again 
one asks why such an abortive attempt, with de Wailly 
before him where these various errors are absent? 

** Le paysan exc^d^ de fatigue quitte son travail, 
Ce soir sa semaine de labeur est finie ; 
II rassemble ses baches, ses hoyaux et ses houes, 
Esp^rant goOter k I'aise le repos du matin, 
Et fatigu^, sur la bruy^re, il dirige sa course vers son Ipgis.*" 

This, with the exception of rendering "the mom" by 
** matin " instead of " lenderaain," is a fair translation, 
and a pleasing contrast to de la Madelaine's medley; 
and the same may be said of nearly all the other portions 
where de la Madelaine does not adopt de Wailly's 
version word for word, a practice to which, fortunately, 
he very frequently resorts. 



^am ti <Sttanter. 

Here he follows de Wailly's metrical version, rather 
than the more literal one, translating 

** While we sit bousing at the nappy. 
An' getting fou and unco happy," 
by 

" Tout en sablant I'ale de cabarets 

A pleins verres, heureux comme k la noce." 

It is a pity he did not adopt the almost perfect rendering 
of de Wailly*s second version. 



TAAf a SHANTER 403 

" Tandjs que nous sommes k sabler I'ale 
Devenant gris et tout heureux." 

There are unfortunately loo many such iustances. " Kirk- 
ton Jean " he, like de Wailly, entirely misunderstands, and 
makes " Jean Kirkton," changing the sex and turning 
the name of a place into that of a man ; but such minor 
slips pale before the graver errors which are so plentiful. 



'€he '^IDS ^oge. 

" Twa dogs that were na thrang at hame, 
FoTgather'd ance upon a time." 
These two lines are transformed into 

" Deux chiens, fatigues du logis, $e donnirent 
Rendei-vous pour passer leur apris-midi,' 
changing, of course, the whole meaning. This pi 
full of such misrenderings. In 



^cxth anb doctor ^(mtbtrob. 

" That e'er ho nearer comes oursel 

's a muckle pity," 
he renders precisely in the reverse sense, and says, 
" II est & regretter qu'il ni vienne/nj plus 
Souvent pr^s de nous."* 
This is a matter of taste and opinion. M. de la Madelaine 
ought to have spoken for himself; perhaps, indeed, he 
did not translate Bums's remark. But enough of this 

1 Two dogs, tired with home, gave themielves 
A rendeivout in order 10 pui ihe afternoon. 
' It is to be Tcsretted that h« does not come oftener nesi nt. 



404 



BCRXS IN FRENCf/ 



weary work; I could have given only too many similar 
specimens, but the above will show the manner in which 
this author has translated the poems, and with the songs 
he is equally unsuccessful. 

ji^rot0, tDha hat. 

Let us take the first and last verses. Both de la 
Madelaine and de Wailly use the second version. 

" Scots, wha hac wi' Wallace bled, 
Scots, wham Bruce has aften led. 
Welcome to your gory bed 
Or to glorious victory." 

M. de la Madelaine renders — 

" Ecossais qui avez combattu sous Wallace, 
Ecossais que Bruce a souvent conduits, 
Soyez les bienvenus k votre lit sanglant 
Ou aux trophies de la victoire.'* 

It will be seen that " combattu sous Wallace " is substituted 
for ** wi* Wallace bled," and " trophies de la victoire ** for 
•'glorious victory"; both conceptions as weak as they 
are needless, and which de Wailly renders quite literally — 

" Ecossais, qui avez saign^ sous Wallace, 
Ecossais, que Bruce a souvent conduits 
Soyez les bienvenus k votre lit sanglant 
Ou k la victoire glorieuse." 

And the last verse, 

" Lay the proud usurpers low, 
Tyrants fall in every foe ! 
Liberty's in every blow ! 
Forward 1 let us do or die I ** 

de la Madelaine goes out of his way to corrupt, changing 
not only the language, but with it the power and vigour 
of the great ode — 



SCOTS, IVNA HAE 405 

" Renversons ces tiers usurpa.teuTs, 
Que la mort dc chaque ennemi soit la mort d'un tyran, 
La. liberty est dans chacun de no$ coups, 
En avant, il faut vaincre ou mourir." 
Not one single line is faithfully translated, and why 

" Tyrants fall in every foe " 
should be made to read in such lumbering length — 

" Que la mort dc chaque ennemi soit ia mort d'un tyran," 
or 

" Let us do or die" 

feebly transformed into 

" II faut vaincre ou mourir," 
is quite incomprehensible, especially with de Wailly before 
him, 

" Jetons \ bas ces fiers usurpateurs, 
Un tyran tombe dans chaque ennemi, 
La liberty est dans chaque coup. 

This is not quite literal, but much nearer the original, 
and terser than the former inexact version. 



JiflU) gentlB, ^towt Jlfton. 

In this song I prefer de la Madelaine's rendering 
of the words " sweet Alton " to that of M. de Wailly, 
the former being " gentil Afton," the latter " bel Afton," 
though I see no reason why, like Angellier, they did 
not translate it literally — " doux Afton." Compare the 
first verses. De la Madelaine's reads— 

" Coule doucement, geniil Afton, entre les nves vertes, 
Coule doucement, je vais chanter \ ta touange unc chanson. 
Ma Marie est endotmie pr^s de ton eau munnurante, 
Coule doucement, gentil Afton, ne trouble pas son rfive." 



4o6 BURNS IN FRENCH 

and de Wailly's version, as will be remembered, reads— 

" Coule doucement, bel Afton, entre les vertes rives, 
Coule doucement, je te chanterai une chanson k ta louange, 
Ma Mary est endormie pr^s de ton eau murmurante, 
Coule doucement, bel Afton, iie trouble pas son r^e." 

I give no further verses, as in the others the newer author 
falls behind the older, and both show how much the want 
of rhyme interferes with the music of the onginal. 

" Flow gendy, sweet Afton, among thy green braes. 
Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise ; 
My Mar>''s asleep by thy murmuring stream. 
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.** 

The translation of the word " gate " (meaning, of course, 
''way," or "manner,") leads both these French authois 
into trouble; they generally, not always, translate the 
word by "porte." Thus de Wailly gives, and de la 
Madelaine accepts his version in "Death and Doctor 
Hornbook," — 

" Ces temps-ci, vous avez frapp6 k la porte 

De bien des maisons." * 
for 

** This while ye hae been mony a gate. 

At mony a house." 
The same occurs in " The Twa Dogs." 

•* . . . Is that the gate 
They waste sae mony a braw estate," 

is given by de Wailly, not without unintentional suggest- 

iveness — 

"... Est-ce par cette porte 

Que passent tant de beaux domaines." 

^ These times you have (de la Madelaine says, must have) knocked 
at the door of many houses. 



MISCELLANEOUS 407 

But de la Madelaine gets into a helpless muddle with 
this word in 

" 1 gaed a waefu' gate yestreen." 

and sends the poor fellow stumbling in at the door, and 
then commences to philosophize — 

" J'ai pass£ bier par une porte, 
Dont jc n'aurais, je crois, jamais dCl connaitre I'entrde." ' 

Shade of Bums ! this is keeping up the ill-usage of thy 
earthly life upon thee with a vengeance, when such can 
be offered for 

" I gaed a waefu' gate yestreen, 
A gate I fear I'll dearly rue." 

De Wailly is better— 

" J'ai pris bier une route malencontreiise, 
Une route dont je me repentirai cruellement, j'ai peur." * 

The French language, more than the author, is to blame 
for any want of precision here. Both authors give the 
translation of 

"A daimen icker in a thraive," 
by 

" Un epi de bW sur douie," 

(de ^Vailly says, "deux douzaines "). As is known, 
"a daiinen icker" is the smaller of the two grains in a 
husk of oats, the larger one being the daimen. This error 
is, however, quite excusable, as I dare say few English- 



* I have passed last night by s dooc, 

or which I ought never, 1 believe, to have known th« eotruice. 
' I took yesterday a regrettable road, 

A road of which I ihall cruelly repent, 1 fear. 



4o8 BURNS IN FRENCH 

men, and not many Scotsmen, could exactly tell its 
meaning. Not so excusable is de la Madelaine in 

<< Nous avons couru le long du ruisseau," ' 

as meaning 

" We twa hae paidl'd in the bum,** 

and which, we have seen, de Wailly renders pretty 
accurately. 

M. de la Madelaine has only twenty-six pieces in his 
work ; those in it belonging to the selection I have made 
are all found in the examples of de Wailly's translations; 
and from the comparisons made above, the reader will feel 
he loses nothing by my refraining from reproducing any 
of them here. 



AUGUSTE AnGELLIER. 

I have some hesitation in dealing with the production 
of this distinguished author, as my work is merely to 
put before English and Scottish readers a review and 
examples of translations of Robert Bums. Now with 
Angellier the translations are of mere secondary import- 
ance, and seem chiefly employed to illustrate his ex- 
haustive examination and criticism of the life and works 
of the poet. The first volume of about 600 pages deals 
with the life, and this is naturally beyond the scope of 
my task. I may be permitted to remark, however, that 
the volume is written in a strictly impartial yet also in 
a human and sympathetic manner, and " nothing is ex- 
tenuated or aught set down in malice." 

The second volume of over 400 pages is devoted to 

* We have run along the burn. 




^_^^^^^^ c-^-^^i^f^^^J^^^S^ 



I 



ANGELL/ER'S WORK 409 

the poet's works. Whether one agrees or not wiili the 
author's views or conclusions, one cannot but admire the 
enonnous preparation and extraordinary abundance of 
material with which he has equipped himself for his 
undertaking. The entire Aeld of English and Scottish 
literature is laid before the reader In almost bewildering 
immensity. Nearly every English and Scottish writer, 
obscure and eminent, as well as many foreign authors, 
are brought into evidence, and quoted with an appro- 
priateness and precision wliich show that they have not 
been superficially glanced at, but carefully studied. His 
visits to the various parts of the country where Bums 
lived, sojourned, or even only visited have been made, 
not after the manner of the proverbial American or Cook's 
tourist, but with the open eye and penetrating intelligence 
which have enabled the author to absorb to a marvellous 
extent the local colour of the places, the spirit of the scenes, 
and the lives of the inhabitants. He divides this volume 
into four chapters, each dealing with a separate develop- 
ment of the poet's works, in which his astute arguments, 
and the extremely minute and intelligent analyses of the 
pieces he takes as illustrations, indicate a knowledge of 
the manners and customs of the country and of the spirit 
and character of the time in which they were written, 
such as is not too widely possessed by Scotsmen them- 
selves. 

In Chapter 1. he reviews with great thoroughness the 
old ballads and songs, bringing his disquisition up to the 
time of the poet, showing the influence which, in his 
opinion, was exercised upon Burns by Ramsay, Fergus- 
son, and their predecessors. The poetic current having 
gathered and accumulated from age to age, and froib 
poet to poet, "one sees then," he says, "that the work 



4IO BURNS IN FRENCH 

of Buras is a continuation, and, as it were, the prolonga- 
tion of the popular poetry of Scotland." ^ 

In Chapter II. he deals with human life in Bums.* 
Here, amongst other points, he discusses the humour 
of Bums, his tendency to dramatic writing, the influence 
of the French Revolution upon him, Bums as the poet of 
Liberty and Equality, the poet of the humble, etc One 
is not quite disposed to agree, perhaps, with all our author 
says, but here, as elsewhere, the various pieces he cites 
as illustrations are described with such a minute and 
graphic pen that it is sometimes to be regretted the 
author did not content himself with his analysis without 
adding a translation. It would lead too far to quote many 
of these studies. I cannot refrain from giving one or two 
in the course of this brief examination. 

His dissections of "Death and Dr. Hornbook," "The 
Jolly Beggars," " Tam o* Shanter," and the other important 
pieces are too long to quote. Here is how he introduces 
"The Cottar's Saturday Night":— 

" Ce rel^vement de la vie des pauvres a trouv6 son expression 
la plus grande et la plus ^mouvante dans le c^^bre morceau 
du Samedi soir du Villageois. EUe y est ennoblie, touch^e 
de beaut^, car elle prend une telle ^Mvation que, lout en 
gardant ses traits fatigues, elle s'embellit d'une lumi^re sup^ri- 
eure. Jamais on n'avait rdpandu tant de dignity sur Texistence 
des indigents. C'est une consdcration de ce qu'il y a de pi^^ 
naturelle, d'amour familial, de resignation, et d'honndtet^ sous 
des toits misdrables ; un hommage solennel aux vertus humbles. 
Et ce qu'il y a d'admirable dans ce tableau, c'est que cette 
noblesse sort peu k peu de la rdalitd, la surmonte, la conquiert 
et finit par la vaincre, par I'entrainer dans son triomphe. La 

* On voit done que Toeuvre de Burns est une continuation et comme 
le prolongement de la jxxSsie populaire de TEcosse (p. 80. ) 

* La vie humaine dans Burns. 



ANGELLIER'S WORK 41, 

pitte, qui s'ouvre par unc peinture presque sombre de travail 
ext^nu^, aboucil & unc id^e glarieuse. Les mis^res, le labeur, 
les sueurs, la. rudesse des details disparaissent Elle atteint 
les sommets de la dignity humaine, 1^ oil toutes les distinctions 
sociales sont tombfes, ou I'lme seule paratt, oi ce qu'il y a 
d'absolu dans la vertu delate et rayonne, en faisant fondre 
autour de soi, comme de vaines cires, le rang, la richesse et 

" C'est un morceau qu'il faut connaitre, car il marque, dans 
une direction, un des points exirfmes du g^nie de Hums." ' 

Then follows an analysis and explanation of the piece, 
with illustration and amplification, which prove how 
thoroughly the author has drunk in its spirit 

In Chapter III. he deals with Bums as the poet of love,* 
dividing his iheme into the Poetry of Love, the Comedy 
of Love, concluding with a risumi of his views. Again 
the same minuteness and care, again the thorough criticism 

■This account of ihe life of (he poor has found its grandesl and 
most moving expression in the bmous pieCE, "The CotUr's Saturday 
Night." It is iheiein ennobled, touched with beauly, for il lakes 
such a lofty tone, that, while conserving its weary features, it makes 
Ihem lovely with a higher light. Never has so much dignily been 
shed on the life of the poor. It is a consecration of all there is of 
natural piety, family love, lexignalion, and honesty under miserable 
roofs; a solemn homage to humble virtues. And what there is admir- 
able in this picture is that this nobility emerges gradually from the 
reality, surmounts il, conquers it, and finally subdues it by bearing it 
along in its triumph. The piece, which opens with an almost sombre 
picture of wearied toil, ends in a glorious idea. The misery, labour, 
sweats, the harshness of the details disappear. It reaches the heights 
of human dignity there, where all social distinctions are levelled, where 
the soul alone appears, where what there is absolute in virtue bursts 
forth and beams, causing rank, riches, and birth to melt round it like 

It is ■ piece that must be known, for it marks in one direction 
one of Ihe extreme points of Buins's genius. 
'Burns comme poite de I'amour. 



412 



BURNS IN FRENCH 



and apt illustration, taken from the poet's most popular 
and appropriate songs, and in the rlsumi he says: — 

"Aussi, le trait qui le distingue pax-dessus tous, desX qull 
est Tainour le plus franc, le plus impersonnel, le plus g^ndral 
qui ait jamais exists. II est fait d'^motion pure, de passion 
sans melange. C'est par la pens^ qu'ils contiennent que les 
amours sont particuliers et portent I'empreinte de tel ou td 
esprit. Ici, la pens^e n'apparait pas. C'est I'amour simple, 
I'amour en soi, Tamour ^Idmentaire, ddbarrass^ de tout ; c'est 
le fonds commun de d^sir, ce qu'il y a de primordial, de 
primitif, d'essentiel dans tous les amours ; c'est de la puit 
passion, sans idee, sans nuage, nue comme un baiser. Jamais 
I'amour ne s'est manifest^ sous une forme aussi d^pouill^ 
C'est de I'amour terrestre sans doute, peu langoureux, mais 
fort, et substantiel. C'est I'amour de tout le monde, accessible 
^ tous, et le plus universel qu'un po^te ait encore exprimd 

**Cela sufBt pour faire de Bums un po^te d'amour original 
et unique."^ 



In the fourth chapter he treats of the sentiment of 
Nature in Burns,^ discusses what Bums has seen in Nature, 
his tenderness for animals, and concludes by showing how 
the sentiment of Nature in Burns is far removed from the 



1 The trait, also, which distinguishes it above all, is that it is the 
frankest, the most impersonal, the most general love that has ever 
existed. It is made up of pure emotion, of unmixed passion. It is 
by the thought which they contain that loves are peculiar and bear 
the impress of such or such a mind. Here, thought does not appear. 
It is simple love, love in itself, elementary love, disencumbered of 
everything ; it is the common foundation of desire, what there is that 
is primordial, primitive, essential in all loves ; it is pure passion, 
without idea, without cloud, naked as a kiss. Never has love shown 
itself in so bare a form. It is earthly love, without doubt, little 
languorous, but strong and substantial. It is the love of everybody, 
accessible to all, and the most universal that a poet has ever yet 
expressed. 

This is sufficient to make Burns an original and unique poet of love. 

' Le sentiment de la Nature. 



ANGELLIER'S fVORJC 



413 



sentiment or Nature in modern poetry. AH these points 
are discussed with much nicety and acumen, and are not 
the least interesting part of the book, comparisons being 
made with the poems of Theocritus and Aristophanes, 
and many intervening poets, down to those of Shelley and 
Wordsworth. I refrain from giving extracts from this 
chapter, as no single passage would indicate the wideness 
of the field of research or the closeness with which the 
author pursues his subject. 

In Chapter V. (Conclusion) he draws together the 
threads of his preceding study, and also briefly refers to 
the place of Bums in hterature and the influence he 
exercises, closing with the following suggestive and withal 
modest words: — 

1 terme, ceite ^tude, quelque longue e 



e qu'elle ait di^ a la 
dit. Nous n'^puisons jamais ur 
ce que nous pouvons pour ni 
nourriture personnelle, et nous 
rentes selon nos temperaments 
la critique varie 
^poques ; elle n'( 



de n 



r point tout 
euvre d'art ; nous en prenons 
I cons om mat ion, pour notre 
assimilons des parties diflif- 
nos besoins. C'est pourquoi 
; renouvelle avec les individus, avec les 
5 achev(!e, jamais fermde. Une ceuvre 
urce itemelle ; des hommes de cieux 
cnnent en longs pfilerinages. Chacun 
; qu'il y apporte, I'un avec un gobelet 
inc coupe de cristal, I'autre avec une Jarre 
un riehe calice d'Smail, I'autre avec une 
Chacun en bait une quantity difT^renie 
et la gollte diversement ; mais elle tes refrakhit tous et met 
sa douceur sor leurs ISvres. A travers les temps, par milliers, 
lis se succ^dent ; et jamais deux d'entre eux n'en prendront 
la mcme quantity et n'y trouveront la m&me saveur. Cette 
pensde donne k tout travail de critique une amertume, ia con- 
naissance qu'il est incomplet, provisoire, iphSmfere. Mfme i. 
cette petite fontaine reiir^, qui a itk pour nous un lieu de 
predilection, dont nous avons go&t^ la fratcheur longuement, 



et de si&cles divers y 

d'argent, I'i 
de gr6s, I'i 

pauvre ^cuelle d'argilc. 



414 BURNS IN FRENCH 

trop longuement peut-Stre, et dont nous avons essay^ de dire 
le charme, d'autres hommes viendront k qui notre &90Q de 
sentir parattra insuffisante, qui trouveront que nous I'avons nol 
comprise. Mais, apr^s tout, nous y aurons bu une eau saine 
et claire ; et peut-^tre aussi en aurons-nous montr^ le sentier 
k ceux dont les pas recouvriront les ndtres."^ 

And now I come to what is the chief object of this 
work, viz., to examine the translations themselves. And 
here again although M. Angellier seems to have had no 
difficulty in rendering the sentiments of the poet, even 
his careful unmetrical stanzas rob them of their charm and 
hush their music. Few of the poems are given at length, 
certain verses only being used to illustrate his criticism 
or afford the text for some argument or remark. The 



' In reaching its close, this study, however long and painstakii^ 
it may have been, is conscious of not having said all. We never 
exhaust a work of art ; we take of it what we can for our use, for 
our personal nourishment, and we assimilate diflferent parts of it 
according to our temperaments and our needs. This is why criticism 
varies and is renewed with individuals, with epochs; it is never com- 
pleted, never closed. A work of art is like an eternal spring, men 
of different skies and different centuries make long pilgrimages to it. 
Each one draws from it with the vessel he brings, one i^ith a silver 
goblet, another with a crystal cup, another with a jar of stoneware, 
another with a rich enamelled chalice, another with a poor dish of 
clay. Each drinks a different quantity, and with a different relish, 
but it refreshes them all, and leaves its sweetness on every lip. 
Through the ages they succeed one another in thousands, and never 
two of them will drink the same measure nor find in it the ^m f 
savour. This thought gives a bitterness to all criticism, the know- 
ledge that it is incomplete, provisional, ephemeral. Even at this little 
sequestered fountain, which has been for us a chosen place, whose 
freshness we have long, perhaps too long, tasted, and whose charm 
we have tried to describe, other men will come, to whom our way of 
feeling will seem insufficient, who will find that we have badly under- 
stood it. But, after all, we shall have drunk there of clear and 
wholesome water, and perhaps we shall also have shown the pathway 
to those whose steps will cover ours. 



ANGELUER'S WORK 415 

second verse of the "Cottar's Saturday Night" he gives 

thus :— 

"Ailleurs, le paysage prend plus de grandeur, de r^alismect 
de tristesse. On e^t en face de la veritable vie des champs, 
avec ses fatigues et la po^sie qui, rnalgr^ tout, flotte autour 
d'elle. Un bet exemple est le retour du laboureur, le samedi 
soir, apr^s la semaine de dur achamement contre le sol, avec 
la perspective du repos du lendemain. 

" Lorsque novembre souffle bruyamment avec un siBlenieot 
irric^, 
Le jour dltiver difcroissant est pris de sa An ; 
Les bStes boueuses reviennent de la charrue ; 
Les bandes noircissantes de comeilles vont !k leur repos ; 
Le laboureur, us^ de fatigue, s'en va de son travail ; 
Ce soir, son labeur de la semaine est termini ; 
II rassemble ses baches, ses pioches et ses houes, 
Esp^rant passer le lendemain dans I'aise et le repos, 
Et las, ^ travcrs le moor, il dirige ses pas vers la maison." ' 

And then from this he cuts out in a fev words one 
of those cameos which add so much to the charm and 
interest of his book. 



' EWwherc (he landscape assumes more grandeur, realUm, and 
sadness. One is fece lo face with the true life of the field*, with 
its fatigues, and with Che poetry which, in spile of all, floats around 
it. A fine example is the lelum of the collar on the Swurday 
evening, after the week of hard struggle with the soil, having before 
him the prospect of the moriow's resL 

When November blowi angrily with irrilaled blast ; 

The dying winter day is neat its end ; 

The miry beasts return from Ihe plough ; 

The blackening IuukIs of crows go to (heir rest ; 

The labourer, worn with fatigue, goes away fiom his work ; 

This evening hii labour of the week is finished ; 

He collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes. 

Hoping to pass Ihe morrow in ease and repose, 

And lired, across the moor he directs hit steps towards the house. 



4i6 BURNS lAT FREA^CII 

"On dirait un de ces poignants dessins dc Millet, oades 
formes de paysans, anoblies par le cr^puscule ct toatetoe 
trainant le poids du labeur, reviennent dans la m^lancolie des 
soirs." ^ 



Here is another example of his criticism and transktion- 

** 11 y a une description qui est bien jolie ; les strophes soot 
toutes trdbuchantes de verbes qui indiquent des mouveroenis 
vacillants, et le tableau de Tivrogne qui s'applique k compter 
les comes de la lune, sans y r6ussir, est charmant II hesitc 
avec bonhomie entre trois et quatre. 

" L'ale du village m'avait mis de belle humeur 
Je n'etais pas gris, mais j'en avais juste assez • 
Je chancelais par instants, mais j'avais encore soin 

De passer au large des fosses ; 
Et les monts, les pierres et les buissons, je les distin<n]ais 

Des spectres et des sorciers. [encore 

" La lune montante commenga k regarder, 
Par-dessus les distantes collines de Cumnock • 
A compter ses comes, de toutes mes forces, 

Je m'appliquai ; 
Mais, si elle en avait trois ou quatre, 

Je ne pourrais pas le dire. 

"J'avais tourn^ pr6s de la colline, 
Et je descendais vers le moulin de Willie, 
Plagant mon baton tr^s habilement 

Pour me tenir ferme ; 
Mais, parfois, au large, malgr^ mon vouloir 

Je tirais une bord^e." * 



* One would say it was one of those striking drawings of Millet 
where the peasant forms, touched with dignity by the twilight and 
all the time dragging the burden of labour, are retumng in the 
melancholy of the evening. 

* There is a description which is very fine ; the lines stagger 
with verbs descriptive of vacillating motions, and the picture of the 



DEATH AND DR. HORNBOOK 417 

These three verses, it will be seen, convey the spirit and 
meaning of the original exceedingly well — 

" The Clacban yill had made me canty, 
[ wasna fou, but just had plent)- ; 
! stacher'd whylcs, but yet took tent ay 

To free the ditches ; 
An' hillocks, stanes, an' bushes, kenn'd ay 

Frae ghaists an' witches. 

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

I set mysel ) 
Rut whether she had three or four, 

I cou'd na tell. 



dronkanl who attempts in vain to count the moon's horns is charming 
He hesitates Benially between three and four. 

The village ale had pul me in good humour, 
I was not drunk, but I had just enough ; 
I sta^fcred sometimes, but I bad slill care 

To pass wide from the ditches, 
And the hillocks, stones, and bushes I still distinguished 

From ghosts and sorcerers. 
The rising moon commenced to look 
Over (he distant Cumnock hills ; 
To count her horns, with all my strength 

I applied myself; 
But whether she had three or (our 

I could not (cIL 
I had turned near the hill. 
And I went down towards Willie's mill; 
Placing my ilick »ery cleverly. 

To hold me Rnn ; 
i, against my will, 

I made > wide tack. 



41 8 BURNS IN FRENCH 

Setting my staff, wi' a' my skill. 

To keep me sicker ; 

Tho' leeward whyles, against my will, 

I took a bicker.* 

Some of the other verses are unequal, and not successful, 
and indeed the line 

" We'll ease our shanks an' tak a seat " 
is more than tamely rendered by 

" Nous allons nous reposer et nous asseoir ^ ; 

and with 

"Ye hae been mony a gate" 

M. Angellier very strangely falls into the same ^lisinte^ 
pretation as others — 

" Tu as ^t^ k plus d'une porte '' 
but, as might be expected from him, he avoids the mis- 
translation of "He gets his fairin^^ and properly refen 
to it as "son d{i." I do not give the other verses he 
translates; he omits several, and supplies their places by 
clear and comprehensive explanations, so that it would 
be unfair to the author's most creditable reproduction to 
give merely his verses without his other matter, which the 
limits of this book prevent 

Equally felicitous is his disquisition on 

and it would almost seem as if the French language lent 

itself better to the humorous and satirical in Bums than 

to the pathetic — but he strangely misunderstands the 

lines — 

"Better than ony tenant man 

His Honour has in a' the Ian'." 
and conveys the entirely wrong meaning, that as the laird 



THE TWA DOGS 419 

possesses everything in the land, Caesar cannot understand 
what the poor folk can get to eat — 

" Son Honneur possMe tout dans le pays : 
Ce que les pauvres gens des cottages peuvent se mettre 

dans le ventre, 
J'avoue que cela passe ma comprehension." 
Here again in the line, 

" Cc que les pauvres gens des cottages peuvent se mettre 
dans le ventre," 
we see the impossibility of rendering Burns's diction 
into French. How unlike is this long, cumbersome, 
indeed vulgar line to the original, 

"An' what poor cot-folk pit their painch in"; 
then, "quatre sous de bonne bifere" is a feeble con- 
veyance of " twalpennie worth o' nappy." 

" An' worried ither in diversion " 
is another instance of cumbrousness and misconception. 
M. Angellier renders it 

" Et s'extdnuaient & lour de rfilc jKiur se distraire." 
This is fearful! and "s'exl^nuaient" does not mean 
" worried " as applied to the habit of dogs at play ; per- 
haps "se mordaient" would have expressed the meaning 
better. The verses are scattered over the book from pages 
210 to 345, and again it is the keen criticism they are used 
to illustrate, and not the character of the translation, in 
which theii interest centres. The same remarks apply to 



%&m 0' §hantnr, 

which extends from page 129 to page 333. Angellier 
greatly appreciates this piece, the different parts of which 
he describes so graphically and eloquently that one almost 



420 



BURNS IN FRBATCH 



regrets he gives a translation at all ; I give the followi 
as an instance. Thus he describes the opening scene: 

** La sc^ne qui suit est vivantc C'est unc sc^ne dc cabai 
Tarn a trouv^ un bon coin, pr^ d*un bon feu, ct s'y est instt 
II a rencontr^ un vieux compagnon d'ivrognerie. Unc am 
attendrie les lie ; ils ont eu si souvent soif ensemble. La i 
s'avancc. On devnent bruyant, on chante, on frappe les ^ 
sur la table. II y a dans Tarn un grain de galanterie et 
gaillardise. Le voici qui devient aimable avec la cabareti 
Elle s'y pr6te ; alors Tint^rieur est complet ; le savetier race 
scs histoires dr61cs ; le cabaretier, qui ne voit rien ou f 
de ne rien voir, est tout oreilles. Tout cela vivement indi 

" Mais \ notre histoirc ! Un soir dc marchd, 
Tarn s*etait plants bien ferme, 
Au coin d'un bon feu qui flambait joliment, 
Avec de Tale mousseuse qui se buvait divinement ; 
A son coude, le savetier Johnny, 
Son camarade ancien, fidcle, et toujours alt^r^ ; 
Tarn I'aimait comme un vrai fr^re ! 
lis s'^taient grises ensemble pendant des semaines ! 
La nuit s'avan^ait dans les chansons et le bruit ; 
Et toujours I'ale devenait meilleurc ; 
Uhotesse et Tarn se faisaient des gracieuset^s, 

j Avec des faveurs secretes, douces, et precieuses ; 

!• Le savetier disait ses plus drdles histoires, 

Le rire de rh6te ^tait un choeur tout pr^t 
Dehors, I'orage pouvait rugir et bruire, 
Tam se moquait de Torage comme d'un sifflet. 

" Le Souci, furieux de voir un homme si heureux, 
S'6lait noy^ dans la bi^re ! 

Comme les abeilles s'envolent charges de tr^sors, 
Les minutes passaient charges de plaisir. 
Les Rois peuvent etre heureux, mais Tam ^tait glorieu 
De tous les maux de la vie il dtait victorieux." * 

*The scene which follows is living. It is a tavern scene. T 
has found a good comer by a good fire, and has installed him: 
there. He has met an old drinking companion. A tender friends' 



TAM a SHANTER 4:1 

The same remark applies to the other descriptions, and 
to the illustrating translations. He is rather too severe 
on poor Soutar Johnny — Bums calls him Tarn's "ancient, 
trusty, droutky crony," but Angellier translates it, "son 
camarade, ancien, fidfele, et loujours altiri" \ "toujours 
alt^T^ " I ! no, no, not so bad as that, only " fou for weeks 
thegither." In his faithful rendering of the description of 
pleasure he seems to fall into a slight misconception; "or 
like the borealis race," he translates, "ou comme les 

unites them; they have been 10 oflen thirsty together. The night i« 
advancing. They become noisy, Ihey sing, Ihey strike the glasses on 
tbe table. There is in Tarn a vein of gallantry and merriness. Here 
he is becoming friendly with the landlady. She is not unwilling ; 
then the interior is complete; the cobbler tells droll stories; the 
landlord who sees nothing, or pretends to see nothing, is all tan. 
All that is strikinEly indicated. 

But to our story : One market evening 

Tarn was very firmly planted 

At the corner of a good tire which flamed finely. 

With foamy ale which tasted divinely } 

At his elbow, the cobbler Johnny, 

His comrade, ancient, faithful, and always thirsty ; 

Tajn loved him like a true brother ; 

They had been drunk together for weeks. 

The night went on with songs and noise i 

The ale always became better: 

Tbe landlady and Tarn were gracious to each other 

With secret favours, sweet, and precious : 

The cobbler told his funniest stories ; 

The landlord's laughter was an ever-ready chorus: 

Outside, the storm might roar and rage, 

Tarn laughed at the storm as at a whistle. 
Care, furious at seeing a man so happy, 

Had drowned himseif in the beer : 

As bees fly off laden with treasures. 

The pleasure-laden moments passed ; 

Kings may be happy, but Tarn was glorious. 

Over all the ills of life he was victorious J 



422 



BUKNS IN FRENCH 



^ph^m^res des regions bordales." This evidently refers 
to the ephemerides of the North, creatures of a day; 
whereas Bums refers to the aurora borealis or Northern 
lights. 

In his prettily rendered address 

there is a slip, " Teik est le sort de la jeune fille," this 
should of course be Tei, This is undoubtedly only a 
printer's error. The misconceptions are few with such a 
keen and accurate observer as Angellier, who is such a 
master of his subject, and I have noticed most of then^ 
above. A very droll one occurs in the 

§eath anb §stng SBarbd oi foot JBailie, 

where the poor ewe sends her dying message to her 
"poor toop lamb," to warn him not to "rin an' wear his 
cloots" on certain reprehensible errands. Angellier has 
misunderstood the word "cloots," and translates it — 
" Et de ne pas courir et porter partout son tablier." ^ 

Of course " cloots " here means " hoofs," which M. Angellier 
should have seen from the meaning of the line, and 
which he recognizes in 

^he Jlibres0 ia the geil, 

** O, thou ! whatever title suit thee, 
Auld Homie, Satan, Nick, or Clootie," 

where " auld Homie " refers to the homs, and " Clootie **■ 
to the hoofs, which according to all conceptions of the 

^And not to run and wear everywhere his aprofi. 



ADDRESS TO THE DEIL 413 

"Scotch deil" this personage possesses, and which 
Angellier renders 

" toi, quelque sort de titre, qui te convient, 
Vieux Comu, Satan, Nick, ou Fourchu."' 

In this Address to the Deil there is another exceedingly 
comical rendering which will remind readers of translations 
of Sir Walter Scotfs novels, of the comicalities of "Mon- 
sieur Flibbertigibbet" and "Madame Meg Mernlees," and 
which equal the effon of the translator of Shakespeare who 
rendered the Witches' salutation to Macbeth, " All hail ! 
Macbeth " by " Bonjour, Monsieur Macbeth 1 " In the 
last verse of this one of the masterpieces of Burns, where 
even io his happiest humorous vein, his deep sympathy 
bursts in, and, like the good old Scottish divine who used 
to shock the more high and dry orthodox of his hearers 
by including in his prayer, "and Lord, if it please Thee, 
hae mercy on the puir deil," so Bums closes his piece 
on this august personage with the well-known words — 

"But,fareyou wfel, auld Nickie-ben 1 
O wad ye tak a thought an' men' ! 
Ye aiblins might — 1 dinna ken — 

Still hae a stake— 
I'm wae to think upo' yon den, 

"Zi^n for your sake I " 

Here it is, even in Angellier's French — 

"... AlloKS, boasoir vieux Nick.'* 

Je desire que tu rdfl&Jiisses et que tu t'amendes 1 



It Ctoven. 

'"niis ii tomewhit better tendered bf de Wailljr, who nyt;— 
"Mail, mdieu, cher Tienx Nickie." 



424 BURNS IN FRENCff 

Tu pourrais peut-^tre — Je n'en sais rien — 

Avoir encore une chance — 

Cela me fait chagrin de penser ^ ce trou, 

M6me pour toi ! " 

Criticism of such lines fails entirely. It will be felt, 
however, that these "comicalities" of translation are due 
to the language, not to the author, for he seldom fails 
to reach the high standard of criticism and dissection of 
the pieces which his marvellous knowledge, research, and 
penetration have enabled him to set up. 

The other principal poems are treated in the same 
masterly manner, and the songs are reviewed in a way 
to leave little to be desired. Some of these translations 
are complete, and read fairly well. 

JflotD gentlp, SltDtet ^tiow. 

COULE, DOUCEMENT, DOUX AFTON. 

AUGUSTE ANGELLIEK. 

Coule, doucement, doux Afton, entre tes rives vertes, 
Coule doucement, je vais chanter une chanson k ta louange ; 
Ma Mary est endormie pr^s de ton flot murmurant, 
Coule doucement, doux Afton, ne trouble pas son r6ve. 

Toi, ramier, dont I'dcho r^sonne dans le vallon, 

Vous, merles, qui sifflez foUement, dans cette gorge pleine 

d'^pines, 
Toi, vanneau k la crete verte, retiens ton cri per9ant, 
Je vous en conjure, ne troublez pas ma bien-aim^ qui dort. 

Qu'elles sont hautes, doux Afton, les collines voisines, 
Marquees au loin par le cours des clairs ruisseaux sinueux ; 
C'est Ik que, tous les jours, j'erre quand midi monte au ciel, 
Contemplant mes troupeaux et la douce chaumi^re de ma Mary. 

Qu'ils sont agr^ables tes bords, et les vertes valines qui son 

plus bas, 
Ou les primevdres sauvages ^closent dans les bois ; 



FLCW GENTLY, SIVBET AFTON 



4*5 



Lk souvent, quand le doux cr^puscule pkure sur la pclouse, 
Les bouleaux parfum^s nous ombragent, ma Mary et moi. 
Qu'elle gljsse amoureusement, Afton, ton onde de crista], 
Quand tu contoumes la chaumi^re ou ma Mary demeure j 
Que joyeusetnent tes eaux baignent ses pieds neigeux, 
Quand cueillant de douces ileurs, elle suit tes Hots clairs 1 
Coule doucement, doux Afton, entre tes rives vertes, 
Coule doucement, douce riviSrc, sujet de ma chanson, 
Ma Mary est endormie pr&s de ton flot munnurant, 
Coule doucement, doux Afton, ne trouble pas son rdve. 

Of this bewitching song he feelingly remark; — 

" 11 est impossible de rendre, dans une traduction, la strophe 
caressante et fluide, qui coule ai-ec la douceur et presque avec 
la musique d'une eau pure. C'est une de ses plus chastes, et 
de ses plus podtiques inspirations."' 

Of 

Jlohn JLtibcteon, mg Jlo, 
he says, 

" 11 fallait que son imagination eOt vraiment explore toutes 
les situntions de I'amour pour I'avoir conduit jusqu'^ celle qu'il 
^Cait le plus incapable de connaitre par lui-mdme."* 

JOHN ANDERSON, MON AMOUSEUX. 

AUGUSTE AnCELLIER. 

John Anderson, mon amoureux, John, 
Quand nous nous connfimes d'abord, 
Vos cheveux 6taient noirs conune le corbeau, 
Et votre beau front ^lait poli ; 

' It is imporaible to lendei tn a translation Ihe caressing and ftoid 
strophe, which nras with the iweeiness and almost with the music ol 
a pure stTcam. This is one of his most chule and most poetic 
inspiiatiunx. 

'His imagination must truly have explored every siluatioo of lore 
to have conducted him to that with which he was of himself the 
most incapable to be acquainted. 



426 /iU/i^A'S AV FRENCH 

Mais main tenant votre front est chauve, Johiiy 
Vos cheveux sont pareils k la neige ; 
Mais b^nie soit votre tCte blanche, 
John Anderson, mon amoureux. 

John Anderson, mon amoureux, John, 

Nous avons gravi la colline ensemble ; 

£t maint jour de bonheur, John, 

Nous avons eu I'un avec I'autre ; 

Maintenant il nous faut redescendre, John, 

Nous nous en irons la main dans la main, 

£t nous dormirons ensemble au pied de la coUinc, 

John Anderson, mon amoureux. 

Here will be seen one of those grave defects, however, 
which is sufficient to mar any translation — 

"John Anderson, mon amoureux, John," 

is intolerable for "John Anderson, my jo." Angellier 
calls this "une petite chanson exquise d'^motion vraie et 
simple," and indeed it merits even higher praise, but it 
will be felt that the telling, touching language of the 
original is lost here. In truth, one is often tempted to 
ask if it be not useless even to attempt to translate 
Bums — or at least his more characteristic pieces — into 
French. One feels this in reading his work when quota- 
tions from French and British writers are given together; 
and with Burns there is this further difficulty that they 
were all written to airs which he had already mastered 
with a completeness which his true and keen ear for 
music assured, indeed no one feels this more than our 
author, who says (page 104) — 

"... mais il avait aussi cette invention de language 
nccessaire pour donner le trait essentiel, dominant, qui groupe 
tous les autres et en est comme la clef de la voOte. Tout 
essai pour transporter cette marque de maitrise est inutile. 
D^s qu on y touche, ellc dchappe. 11 est aussi impossible k 



JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO 417 

une traduction de rendre ces vigueurs qu'!k une gravure de 
rendre les touches de couleur. 11 faut, dans les deux »5, 
avoir recours k I'original." ' 

His remarks on the genesis of the songs, pages 38 and 
onwards (which are too long to quote), confirm his con- 
sciousness of this difRcuIty. One can find only too many 
quotations to bear this out Take his rendering of 
" Robin " — 



'tThere toss a %*ii. 



AUGUSTE AHGELUER. 

II y cut un garjon qui naquit en Kyle, 
Mais en quel jour et de quelle fa;on, 
Je me demande si ceta vaut la peine 
D'etre si minucieux pour Robin- 
Robin fut un vagabond, 
Un joyeux gars, un vagabond, un joyeux gars, 
un vagabond ; 
Robin fut un vagabond, 
\3ti joyeux gars, un vagabond, Robin ! 
L'avant-demiSre annfe de notre monarque 
Etait de vingt-cinq jours commence e, 
Ce fut alors qu'unc rafale du vent de Janvier 

Entra et commenca k soufder sur Robin. 
La commSre regarda dans sa main, 
Elle dit : " Qui vivra, vcrra la preuve 

' . . . bul he had also that invention of language necessary to 
give (he «sieiiti>I, domioBting tioit which groops ill the others, and 
is as the key-stone of the >icb. Alt attempt at conveying this mark of 
dominance is useless. As soon as one touches it, it escapes. It is 
as impassible for a lianslnlion to render these forcible touches, as 
for an engraving to reproduce colour. We must in both cases have 
recourse to the original. 



428 BURNS IN FRENCH 

Que ce gros gar^on ne sera pas un sot, 
Je crois que nous Tappellerons Robin. 

" II aura des malheurs, grands et petits, 
Mais toujours un coeur au dessus d'eux, 
II nous fera honneur k nous tous, 
Nous serons fiers de Robin. 

" Mais aussi sdr que trois fois trois font neuf, 
Je vois par toutes les marques et toutes les lignes 
Que le vaurien aimera ch^rement not re sexe, 
Aussi sois notre ch^ri, Robin." 

The above chorus is really cruel for 

" Robin was a rovin* boy, 

Rantin' rovin*, rantin* rovin* ; 
Robin was a rovin' boy, 
Rantin* rovin' Robin.*' 
and to see 

" Blew hansel in on Robin," 

rendered by such a master as Angellier — 

"Entra et commenga k souffler sur Robin,"* 

shows the difficulty to be absolute, especially when 
accompanied by so many others. 

In "Whistle and Til come to you, my Lad," 

"And come na unless the back yett be ajee," 

rendered 

*' £t ne vient pas k moi k moins que la porte de derri^re 
ne soit entr*ouverte,** 

is simply excruciating. Song after song proves how 

Angellier is handicapped by the intractability of his native 

tongue. Try 

aBillic bretoTi a ^eck o' iHaut. 

O! WILIE A BRASsk 
AuGusTE Angellier. 

O ! Wilie a brass^ un demi boisseau de malt, 
£t Rob et Allan vinrent le godter : 



WILLIE BREW'D A PECK 0' MAUT 419 

Pendant toute cette nuit, trois cceurs plus joyeux 
Vous ne les auri« pas trouv^s dans la chrftieni^. 
Nous n'^tions pas gris, nous n'itions pas trta gria, 
Nous avions juste une petite goutte dans I'oeil ; 
Le coq peut chanter, le jour peut se montrer, 
Toujours noos gotltons la liqueur d'orge. 
Nous voici r^unis, trois joyeux gars, 
Trois joyeux gare sommes-nous ; 
F.t mainte nuit nous avons iiji gais, 

£t mainte encore nous esp^rons I'Stre. 
C'est la lune, je reconnais sa come. 

Qui luit li-haut dans le del ; 
EUe brille si clair pour nous conduire chei nous ; 

Mais, ma parole, elle attendra un peu ! 
Celui qui se l^ve le premier pour s'en aller, 

C'est un cocu, un Uche, un maroufie ! 
Celui qui le premier tombera pr^s de sa chaise 
Celui -1^ eet le roi de nous trois ! 

Nous n'Stions pas gris, nous n'itions pas tris gris. 
Nous avions juste une petite goutte dans I'oeil ; 

Le coq peut chanter, le jour peut se montrer, 
Toujours nous goQlons la liqueur d'orge. 

Several of Burns's fine touches, amongst ihem the "drappie 
in oor e'e," noticed at length elsewhere, are lost, and 
"to wyle us hame" given "pour nous conduire chez 
notis" is uncontrollably funny. Such instances of cum- 
brousncss and unmusical diction might be added to 
almost indefinitely, and if this can be compensated for, 
which I greatly doubt, it is only by the extreme accuracy 
with which the meanitig is given in almost every case. 
Of course Angellier makes some slips, but they are 
few. Most of these we have noticed in the other French 
versions. 

" How blythely would I bide the stoure," 



430 



BUR.VS IN FUENCn 



in Maty Morison — "stoure" meaning stress or turmoil, 
and not dust — is vulgarized by the misconceptioD — 
" Avec quelle joie je supponerais la poussiftrc" 

Ctt' the liotntB to the pnotoes 
rendered "Appelle les moutons sur la colline"; "gate" 
rendered "porte" are misconceptions with which I have 
already dealt. Angellier falls into a strange error in 

l^oot itlailie's Clegp, 
where he renders 

" Better fleesh ne'er crossed the clips," 
by 

" Meilleure chair ne passa jamais sous les ciseaux," * 
Of course "fleece" not "flesh" is meant, and it should 
have been rendered by some such word as "toison." 
Sometimes a slip spoils a song, such as in 

Comini) thcongh the Sijt, 
where "poor body" is rendered "pauvre quelqu'un," which 
bears a difl^erent meaning altogether. "Pauvxe petite" oi 
" pauvre fille " would have better conveyed the meaning 
of the original. 

^.V REVENANT PAR I.F.S ORGES. 

AUCL'STE AnCEI.LIKR. 

En revcnant par les orges, pauvre quelqu'un, 
En revcnant par les orges, 

Elle a sali tout son jupon. 
En revcnant par les orges. 

' BeUer ^sk never passed ui:der ihe scissors. 



COMING THROUGH THE RYE 

Ob I Jenny es 

Jenny est n 
Elle a sali tout son jupon, 

En revenant par les orges. 
Si quelqu'un rencontre quelqu'iin, 

En revenant par les orges ; 
Si quelqu'un embrasse quelqu'un, 

Faut-il que quelqu'un crie? 
Si quelqu'un rencontre quelqu'un, 

En revenant par le vallon, 
Si quelqu'un embrasse quelqu'un, 

Faut-il qu'on le sache ? 

Many of his songs, if one could dismiss the memory 
and music of the original from one's mind, read veiy 
well 



^ ^an'» ■& ^an for a' that. 

MALGRE TOUT CA. 
AUCUSTE Angblller. 
Faut-il que I'honnfte pauvret^ 

Courbe la tSte, et tout 5a,' 
Le Uche esclave, nous le m^prisons. 

Nous osons €tre pauvres, malgr^ tout 9a 1 
Malgr^ tout 5a, malgrtf tout ;a, 

Nos labeurs obscurs, et tout ;a, 
Le rang n'est que rempreiiite de la guin^e, 
C'est rhomme qui est I'or, malgr^ tout i;^. 
Qu'importe que nous dtnions de mets grossiers, 

Que nous portions de la bure grise, et tout (a ; 
Dontiez aux sots leur soie, aux gredins leur vin, 
Un homme est un homme, malgr6 tout <;a I 
MalgT^ tout 9a, malgrd tout ;a, 

Malgr^ leur clinquant, et tout 9a, 
L'honnfte homme, si pauvre soit-il, 
Est le roi des bommes, malgrd tout ca t 



432 nUJRXS IN FRENCH 

Voyez cc belldtre qu'on nomme un lord. 

Qui se pavane, se rengorge, et tout 9a ? 
Bien que des centaines d'^tres s'inclinent k sa voix, 
Ce n'est qu'un bdlitre malgr^ tout 9a ; 
Malgr^ tout Qa, malgr^ tout 9a, 

Son cordon, sa croix et tout 9a, 
Ubomme d'esprit ind6pendant 
Regarde et se rit de tout 9a ! 

Le roi peut faire un chevalier, 

Un marquis, un due et tout 9a ; 
Mais un honn^te homme est plus qu'il ne peut. 
Par ma foi qu'il n'essaye pas 9a ! 
Malgrd tout 9a, malgr^ tout 9a, 

Leur dignit6 et tout 9a, 
La sdve du bon sens, la fiert^ de la vertu 
Sont de plus hauts rangs que tout 9a ! 

Prions done qu'il puisse advenir, 

Comme il adviendra malgr^ tout 9a I 
Que le bon sens et la vertu, sur toute la terre, 
L'emportent un jour sur tout 9a. 
Malgrd tout 9a, malgr^ tout 9a, 

II adviendra malg^^ tout 9a 
Que rhomme et I'homme, par tout le monde 
Seront fr^res, malgr^ tout 9a ! 



JHars in |geaben 

almost preserves the beauty of the original, though lacking 
the music of its verse. 



A MARY DANS LE CI EL. 
AUGUSTE ANGELLIER. 

O ^toile tardive, qui d'un rayon diminu^ 
Aimes k saluer la premiere aube, 

Voici que tu ram^nes le jour 

Ou ma Mary fut arrach^ k mon dme 



!HARY IN HEAVEN 



433 



O Mary, ch^re ombre dispanie ! 

Oil est ta place de repos bienheureux ? 
Vois-tu ton amant ici-bas prosterni? 

Eotends-tu Ics g^misscments qui d^birent sa poitrine ? 

Puis-je oublier cettc heure sacrfe, 

Puis-je oublier ce bosquet sanctiti^, 
Ou, sur les bords de I'Ayr sinoeuK, nous nous Tcncontrimes, 

Pour vivrc un jour d'adieux et d'amour ! 
L'^ternitrf n'effacera pias 

La ch&re souvenance des transports passes, 
Ni ton image dans notre derniJre ilreintc, 

Ah \ nous pensions p>eu que c'tftall la dernifere ! 

L'Ayr, murmurant, baisait sa rive caillouteuse, 
Sur lui se penchaient dcs bois sauvages, des verdures 
ipaisses ; 

Le bouleau parfumf et Taub^pine blanche 
S'cniaqaient amoureusement autour de ceite scfene de 



Les tlcurs jailliss.iienl d^sireuses d'etre pressdes, 
Les oise:iux chantaieni I'amour sur chaque rameau, 

Jusqu'k ce que trop, trop tfli, I'ouest en feu 
Proclama la fuiic du jour ailt 

Sur ces sc&nes ma m^moire rcste eveillSe, 

EC les chdrit tendrement avec un soin avare ; 
Lc Temps n'en rend que plus forte I'eropreinie, 

Comme les ruisseaux creusent plus profond leur liL 
Mary, chJre ombre disparuc ! 

O^ est ta place de repos bienheureux ? 
Vois-Iu ton amant ici-bas prostem^ ? 

Eniends-tu les g^missements qui ddchirent sa poitrine ? 

In spite of the difficulties which I have so fully noted, 
this work is a monument alike to poet and translator. 
It shows that Bums's works, even although deprived of the 
music of their lyrical flow, in which so much of their 
charm consists, are sufflciently powerful and penetrating 




434 



BURNS IN FRENCH 



to make their teodeiness, sympathy, and human oatore 
felt, even when clothed in a language so littl<: suitable 
to their reproduction. And M. Angellier has laid all 
students of British literature, and especially all lovers of 
the works of Bums, under a deep obligation to him fot 
his two scholarly volumes, which are, so Tar as I knoar, 
the best and roost complete treatise on our national poet 
that has appeared in any language. 



From the French versions one naturally turns to the 
other families of the Latin race — Spanish, Portuguese, 
and Italian. I have been unable, either by direct re- 
search, or by the painstaking searching of Spanish and 
Portuguese friends, to find a single translation of any 
piece of Bums in these two languages, even in the pages 
of a magazine. It is therefore a source of the greater 
gratification to find a translation into the "courtly lan- 
guage" of Italy, and this task has been performed by 
Ulisse Ortensi, published 1893, in Modena.> This feeling 
of gratification draws one to it in a sympathetic and 
somewhat partial spirit ; but a glance over the notice 
of the poet's life which precedes the translation changes 
the feeling of gratification into a feeling "akin to pain." 
The carelessness — if not worse— as to facts, in meaning, 
in ordinary spelling even, indicates only too clearly what 
may be expected in the book itself. It would take up 
too much space to give anything like a fiill list of the 
defects; I wilt offer therefore only one or two specimens. 
Ortensi's very first sentence is a revelation, and, had his 
statement only been true, additional lustre would have been 
added to the many glories of the city of St Mungo. He 

' Poesie di Robeito Bums, Ulisse Oitenu: Modem, E. Saruioo, 



436 JiC'RNS IN ITALIAl^ 

tells us Bums was born under the severe sky of Glasgow, 
in the miserable hut of a jjoor fanner of the county of 
Ayr.* 

" Farewcl, false friends ! false lover, farewel 1 
I'll nae mair trouble then nor thee O ! " 

contains thrte misspellings in two lines. 

" A man is a man for a' iliat," 
and 

" Begs a brother of the eaith 
To give himself leave to toil," 
are two further specimens. 

" Churches built to please the priest " 
is here given: 

" Le chiese erette per sci~i'ire ai pretl." * 
Of course they were built to serve the priests. Bums 
says it was to please them, and Oriensi renders it cor- 
rectly in the poem itself, "piacere a! preti," which shows 
this slip at least is due to carelessness rather than to 
ignorance. In turning to the translations, these un- 
desirable features, I fear, increase somewhat in number. 
The first characteristic that suggests itself to a student 
of the translations of Burns is, that this version has not 
been taken direct from any edition of the poet himself, 
but has been interpreted chiefly from de Wailly's French 
rendering, for it contains nearly every error and slip 
made by de Wailly, and many by Ortensi himself besides. 



'QuanHo alia fine del XVIII. secolo, sotio il rigidocielo di Gliuguw, 
nella misera capann.t d'un povcio fitlaiuolo della Contea d'Ayr, venne 
nlla luce Kobcrlo Burns. 

'The churches erected to itnt the priests. 



THE COTTAR'S SATURDAY NIGHT 



is one of his most acceptable renderings. "His clean 
hearlh-stane" is given "La sua casetta polita (printed 
pulita).^ Like de Wailly, he stumbles over "a cannie 
errand," and makes it "delle commissioni diflicili,"' giving 
in this case the opposite meaning from dc Wailly, who 
renders it "une affaire avantageuse." * The "halesome 
parri^ch" he half italianizes and half anglicizes into "il 
sano porridge " ; " the soupe " supplied by their only cow, 
meaning, of course, " milk," he translates literally into " the 
soup," which gives a quality to Scottish cows hitherto 
unknown, though in this he slavishly follows de Wailly : 

"Le salubre pariitch, la principale nourriture de I'Ecosse ; 
La soupe qui fournit leur seule vachc," 
except that Ortensi anglities parritch into porridge, and 
de Wailly gives a foot-noie to say that parritch is " pudding 
dc gniau."* In describing the cheese, which Burns tells 
us "'twas a towmond auld, sin' lint was i' the bell," 
Ortensi leaves de Wailly, but falls into a sad mistake 
in his independent course, for he says : 

"E un anno che fu messo sotto la canipana,"* 
which shows both that he misunderstands Bums, and is 
unacquainted with the process of cheese-making. In the 
pathetic line, 

"The saint, the father, and the husband prays," 
he again, like de la Madelaine in French, leaves de 

' His clean little house (iv cottage). 

*DifIicuU business (ttr commissions). 

'A ptofiiible business. 'Pudiling of oatmeal. 

* It is a year ^nce it was pul under the bell. 



438 BURNS IN ITALIAN 

Wailly, and like de la Madelaine, falls into the strange 
error of transforming one into three persons, and says: 

"II santo, il padre ed il marito pregano,"* 

and the last line in the tenth verse, 

"Then paints the ruin'd maid, and their distraction wild,' 

unlike de Wailly, he, for some unaccountable reason, en- 
tirely omits. These are defects which a little thoroughness 
would have easily avoided, and which greatly mar an 
otherwise creditable version. 



IL SABA TO SERA NELLA CAP ANNA. 

Mio amato, mio onorato, molto rispettato amico ! 

Non un mercenario bardo rende questo omaggrio ; 

con onesto orgoglio io sprezzo ogni fine personale : 

il mio piu caro onore h. lo stimare e Telogiare un amico : 

per voi io canto, in semplice accento scozzese, 

Tumile classe della societk in un canto solitario della terra; 

i nidi naturali sentimenti, le maniere franche ; 

ci6 che sarebbe stato Aiken in una capanna ; 

ah ! il suo valore ignorato ; ma molto piu felice Ik, io credo ! 

II freddo vento di Novembre soffia forte c con furioso umore ; 

la giomata d'inverno raccorciantesi 6 vicina alia fine ; 

i buoi fangosi tornano dagli arati campi ; 

le lunghe nere file di corvi tornano al loro nido ; 

il campagnuolo stracco lascia il suo lavoro. 

Questa sera la sua settimana h compiuta ; 

raduna la sua vanga, la sua zappa, la sua marra, 

sperando di passare il mattino a bell'agio e riposo, 

e stanco per la pianura riprende il suo cammino verso casa. 

Al fine appare alia sua vista la sua solitaria casetta, 
sotto Tombra di un albero antico ; 



^The saint, the father, and the husband /r<7y. 



THE COTTAlfS SATURDAY NIGHT 439 

I piccini che I'aspettano ma] fermi nel piede accorrano 

a inconirare il loro babbo con gridlo allegro e interrotto. 

II suo piccolo focolare, che brilla gaiamente, 

la sua casetta puliia, il sorriso della sua donna economica, 

il suo ultimo nato arrampicantesi alle sue ginocchia 

allontanano tutte 1e sue divoranti cure 

e gli fanno dimenticare tuito il suo lavoro e le sue pene. 

Piii tardi, gli aduiti cominciano a rientrare ; 

essi sono al servizio delle fattorie circostanti 1 

alcuni guidano la carrctta, alcuni il gregge ed altri 

fanno delle commission) difficili alia vicina cittiu 

La loro piii grande speranza, la loro Jenny, gj^ donna, 

in fiorente gioventii, con I'amore vivo nei suoi occhi 

toma a casa, forse, per mostrare la sua veste nuova 

o per lasciare il suo poco salario guadagnato a stento 

per aiutarc i suoi cari, se essi sono nel bisogno. 

Con sinccra gioia fratelli e sorelle s'incontrano, 

I'interessa amabilmente delle sort! deH'altro; 
li compagnia, dalle all le^ere, inosservate volano : 
i dice ci6 che ha visto ed inteso di nuovo ; 
i genitori content! guardano le loro giovanili speranic 
anticipandone col pensiero I'av venire. 
La inadre, con I'ago e con le forbici, 
di agli abiti veccbi I'apparenza dei nuovi; 
il padre mischia a lutto i suoi awertimenti. 
Agli ordini dei loro padroni e delle loro padrone 
i giovani sono esortati di ubbidire : 
e fare il loro lavoro con diligentc mano 
e mai, bencbft fuori di vista, giocare od oziarc. 
" E sopraiutto abbiate scmpre timore di Dio ! 
c soddisfate il vostro dovere vestro di lui convencvolmente 

giorno e notte : 
guardandovi di perdervi in lentazionc, 
implorando il suo consiglio e la sua assistenia : 
che mai pregarono in vano il Signore quelli che lo fecero 



Ma, silenzio ! Un leggiero colpo s'ode alia porta ; 
Jennjf, che conosce il significaio di esso, 



440 BUR//S IN ITALIAN 

dice come un vicino k venuto per la. bmghiera, 

per fare alcuni commissioni ed accompagnarla a casa 

L'esperta madre vede la consapevol fiamma 

brillare nell'occhio di Jenny e la sua gota arrossire ; 

con carezzevole toccante cura domaada il suo nome 

mentre Jenny osa appena articolarlo ; 

con piacere la madre apprende che non k un cattivo giovane. 

Con amabile benvenuto, jenny lo fa entrare ; 

un bel giovanotio ; egli conquista I'occhio della mamma ; 

Jenny allegra i-ede che la visita non h dispreizata. : 

il padre parla dl cavalli, aratri e bestiame. 

II cuore sincere del giovane strabocca di gioia, 

ma timido e vergognoso sa appena contenersi ; 

la madre, con I'arte d'una donna, scopre 

ci6 che rende il giovane cosl timido e cosi grave ; 

ella £ contenta di vedere sua figlia stimata come le altrc 

O fonunato amore ! quando si trova un simile amore ! 

O estasi profonde pel cuore ! felicith. senza I'uguale ! 

lo ho molio viaggiato in questa irisie rotonda mortale macchina 

e saggia esperienza mi fa dichiarare questo : 

" Se 11 Cielo lascia sfuggire una goccia di celeste feliciii 

e dk un cordoglio in questa melanconica valle, 

egli 6 quindo una giovane coppia amoroso, modesta, 

I'uno nelle braccia dell'altro, sospira tenere parole 

sotto il latleo biancospino che profuma la brezza della sera, 

V'fi sotto forma umana e dotato d'un cuore, 

un miserabile, uno scellerato sordo ad amore e veriti, 

che possa, sludiatamente, perfido ed insidioso, 

tradire la confidente giovinezza della bella Jenny ? 

Maledizione ai suoi falsi spergiuri ! alle sue tristi meniogne ! 

L'onore, la virtii, la coscien2a son tutti banditi ? 

Non v'ha pieti^, n^ lenera commiscrazione 

che gli mostrino i genilori idolatri ilclla loro faticiulla ? 

Ma ecco che il pranzo orna ta loro parca tavola, 

il sano porridge, primo piatto della Scoiia : 

la zuppa che ioro d^ I'unica loro vacca 

che dall'altra parte dell'assito rumina tranquillamenie. 



THE COTTAR'S SATURDAY NIGHT 441 

La madre porto, con maniere complimentose, 

per fare onore al giovane, il suo formaggiu ben tenuto. 

Lo premurano di prendeme ; egli lo trova squisito ; 

la frugale padrona, ciarlona, racconu 

come t un anno che fu messo sotto ia campana. 

L'allegra tavola (inita, con aria seria 

essi fanno un gran circolo intorno al fuoco ; 

il padre sfoglia, con gcsto patriarcale, 

la grossa Bibbia, gik orgoglio del padre suo ; 

egli si leva rispetiosamenie il berretto 

mostrando i suoi capelli grigi e ran : 

di quei canti, che dolccmente un tempo risuonarono in Sion, 

egli sceglie un brano con diligente cura ; 

e "Preghiamo Iddio" egli dice con solenne voce. 

Essi canuno le loro note senz'arte, semplicementc : 

accordano i loro cuori ; fine mollo nobile, 

Forse le melodie agresti di Dundee si fan sentire, 

o i Martiri piangenti degni di questo nome ; 

o il nobile Elgin aicizza la fianuna che monta al cielo, 

il pill dolce, e di molto, dei canti sacri della Scozia. 

Paragonati a questi i gorgbeggi iCaliani sono senz'anima ; 

I'orecchio accarezzato non sveglia in cuore alcun sentimento 

essi non sono fatti per le laudi del nostro Creatore. 

H padre come un sacerdote legge il sacro teslo, 

come Abram era I'amico del Dio celeste 

o come M05& dicblarii una guerra etema 

alia ingrata progenie di Amalek 

O come il real bardo cadde gemendo 

sotto il colpo dcUa irala vendetta del cielo, 

o il patetico pianto di Giobbe e il suo grido doloroso, 

o I'ardente isplrazione e il serafico fuoco d'Isaia, 

e gli altri profeti che cantarono sulla sacra lira. 

Furse il volume cristiano serve di tema : 
come il sangue innocente fu versato pel colpevole ; 
come Efili, che porta il secondo nome nel Cielo, 
non trov6 sulla terra dove riposare il suo capo : 
come prosperarono i suoi primi seguaci e i servitori. 



442 



BURNS IN ITALIA/^ 



i precetti saggi ch'essi dettero a molti paesi : 
come colui, che solitario fu relegato in Patmos, 
vide apparire nel sole un angelo potente ; 
e udi pronunciare per decreto del cielo la caduta della grande 
Babilonia. 

Poi sMnginocchia innanzi all'Etemo Re del Cielo : 
11 santo, il padre ed il marito pregano. 
S'invola esultante sulla trionfante ala la speranza 
che essi tutti si ritroveranno cosi nel fuluro, 
per bagnarsi Ik nella luce soprannaturale 
senza piil sospirare o versare lacrime crude! i, 
inneggiando insieme alia gloria del Creatore, 
in tale comunione ma ancora piu dolce : 
mentre il tempo gira in una etema sfera. 

Comparato a tutto questo, quanto misero h Torgoglio della 

Religione, 
in tutta la pompa del metodo e dell'arte, 
quando gli uomini aprono nelle congregazioni 
tutte le grazie della devozione, meno il cuore I 
L'onni potente, irritato, lascerk la processione, 
i canti pomposi, le stole sacerdotali : 
ma, forse, in qualche solitaria capanna, 
udrk, soddisfatto, il linguaggio dell'anima : 
e nel suo libro della vita ne inscriverk i poveri abitatori. 

Alia fine ciascuno torna al suo posto ; 

i piccoli si ritirano per dormire, 

i genitori rendono il loro segreto omaggio 

ed inviano al Cielo una ardente preghiera, 

perch^ Egli che calma il nido chiassoso del corvo 

e para il giglio puro di fastoso orgoglio, 

dia, nel miglior modo che il Suo potere pu6, 

ad essi ed ai loro bimbi la provvidenza ; 

ma sopratutto presieda nei loro cuori con la grazia divina. 

Da scene come questa scaturisce la grandezza delFantica Scozia, 
che la fa amata dentro e rispettata al di fuori. 
I principi ed i signori non sono che Temanazione de're. 
" Un uomo onesto h la piCl nobile opera di Dio ! " 



THE COTTAR'S SA TURDA Y NIGHT 443 

e certo nel sentiero celeste dell a bella Virtti, 

i<t capanna h molto piti avanti del palazzo. 

Che cosa 6 la pompa d'un signore) Un lordo fardello 

celando spesso rinfamia della razza umana, 

lo studio nelle arti infemali, e 1 vizii rafRnati ! 

O Scozia, mio caro, mio native suolo I 

per cui s'alza la mia piil ardente preghiera al Cielo I 

Possano iungamente i bravi figli delle rusticbe fatiche 

essere benedetii con salute, pace e dolce contcnteiu \ 

Ed oh \ possa 11 Cielo guardare la loro vita semptice 

dal contagio del lusso debole e vile ! 

Allora comunque si frangano corone e tiloli 

un virtuoso popolo pub sempre prospierare 

e alzare come una muraglia di fuoco intomo alia sua isola 

O tu, che versasti I'onda di patrioccismo 

che scorreva neirindomito cuore di Wallace, 

il quale oa6 opporsi all'orgoglio dei tiranni 

o morirc nobilmente — cosa non men gloriosa, 

(Uio del patriota — tu sei particolarmente 

ed il suo amico, I'ispiratore, ii guardiano e la sua ricompensa) 

o mai, mai non abbondonare il reame di Scozia ; 

e che i patrioli ed i poeti pacrioti 

si succedano con lustra a sua omamento e difesa \ 



^an toas ^abt to ^onrn 

seems to accord with Ortensi's cast of thought, as it b 
rendered with a fidelity and ap])reciatioii of meaning 
which — all things considered — leave little to be desired. 

L'VOMO E NATO PER GEMERE. 

Quando il triste soffio del freddo Novembre 

spogliava i campi e le foreste, 
una sera, mentre crrava lungo 

le rive dell'Ayr, 



444 



BURNS IN ITALIAN 



io vidi un uomo dal pi^ inveccbiato 

stanco, usato dagli afTanni : 
la sua faccia era solcata dagli anni, 

i suoi capelli erano bianchi. 

O Giovane straniero ove vai tu? 

(mi disse il veccbio venerando) 
rl la sete della riccbezza cbe spinge il tuo pi^ 

o i piaceri deiretk giovanile? 
O forse, vinto da cure e dolori, 

tu bai cominciato anzi tempo 
ad errare, come io fo, per gemere 

suUe miserie degli uomini? 

Quel sole alto suUa brugbiera laggiil, 

cbe spande i suoi raggi dappertutto 
dove centinaia di braccia lavorano per nutrire 

I'orgoglio di qualche alto lord\ 
io bo visto questo fiacco sole 

ritornare due volte quaranta invemi, 
e volta per volta m'ha dato nuove prove 

cbe I'uomo 6 nato per gemere. 

O uomo, nei tuoi anni giovanili 

come tu sei prodigo del tempo ! 
Scialacquando le tue ore preziose, 

il brillante iiore della tua giovinezza i 
Le follle regnano volta a volta in te, 

le passioni licenziose ti bruciano; 
ci6 dk una forza decupla a questa legge di natura 

cbe I'uomo h nato per gemere. 

Non considerare solo il fiorir dell'etk 

o I'attiva potenza della virilitk ; 
I'uomo allora e utile alia sua specie, 

il suo dritto trova un appoggio ; 
ma guardalo sul confine della vita, 

usato dai dolori e dagli affanni. 
Allora la vecchiaia ed il bisogno — ob ! coppia funesta ! 

mostrano cbe I'uomo e nato per gemere. 



MAN WAS MADE TO MOURN 441 

Alcuni sembrano i ravoriti del Destino, 

carezzati nelle braccia del Piacere \ 
peri) non pen sate che luni i ricchi ed i grand! 

Ma, ahi !, quanti uomini in ogni terra 

sono miserabili e sventurati 
nella penosa vila apprendete quesia iezionc, 

cbe I'uomo fi nato per ^mete. 

Numerosi ed acuti sono i ma]i 

intessuti nella vostra trama 1 
Noi stessi ci rendiamo piii inrelici 

coi rimpianto, col rimarso e I'onta 
E I'uoino, che levato il viso al cielo 

I'abbcllisce del sorriso dell'amore, 
I'uomo, per la sua inumanilL verso I'uonio, 

condanna miriadi d'essi a gemere. 

Guarda laggiii quel pover'uomo prostrato, 

COS! abbietto, infimo e basso, 
cbe domanda a un altro tiglio della terra 

di dargli il permesso di lavcirare : 
e vedi, vedi I'altiero verme, il suo fratcUo, 

rigettare 1'umile supplica, 
indiflerente ad una donna che pian^e 

ed ai dgli sventurati che gemono ! 

Se io sono destinato ad essere lo schiavo di questo lord 

destinato per la legge della natura 
perchS un desiderio d'indipendeiiia 

h Stato sempre radicato ncl mio cuore ? 
S'io nol sono, perch^ vedermi prcda 

della sua crudelti e del suo odiot 
O perchi: I'uomo ^ la volontk e il potere 

di far gemere il suo simile ! 

Pure figliuol mio tutto questo non turbi 

troppo i! luo giovanc cuore : 
questa vtduta parti colare della specie umana 

non d certamente I'ultima \ 



446 BUKNS IN ITALIA J^ 

L'onesto uomo, povero ed oppresso 

non sarebbe certo mai nato 
se non vi fosse qualche ricompensa 

per consolare quelli che gemono. 

Morte ! la piCl cara arnica deiruomo povero 

La piit tenera, la migliore ! 
Benvenuta sia Tora quando le mie vecchie meinbra 
si stenderanno con te nel riposo ! 

1 grandi, i ricchi temono i tuoi colpi 

che li strappano alia pompa ed ai piaceri ; 
ma, ahi!, qual supremo conforto per quelli 

che, vinti dal disgusto della vita, gemono ! 



^lu J0UB JpCflQaw. 

For reasons already given, one cannot criticize too 
keenly this versatile piece, but surely such errors as the 
following ought not to have occurred. "Kebars sheuk" 
is not "Tassito tremb;"^ it should be "le trave." 

" I once was a maidy the* I cannot tell when " 

loses its naivete, and indeed its entire meaning, when 
rendered 

" lo una volta era una ragazza, bench^ non possa dirvi 
quando ; " ^ 

it ought of course to have been "vergine." 

" My grannie she bought me a beuk, 
And I held awa' to the school." 

Ortensi gives precisely the reverse meaning from that of 
the original : 



'The partition shook. 

' I once was a girl^ though I cannot tell you when. 



THE JOLL Y BEGGARS 
"Mia 

"And had in mony a well been docked," 
he gives, without the slightest regard to the meaning of 
the original, 

" Ed era stata geitata in piii d'un carcere." ' 
Such defects are absolutely inexcusable, as a very mode- 
rate exercise of care would have prevented theiu. 

GU ALLEGE! PEZZENTL 



Recitative. 
Quando le foglie grigie coprono la terra, 
o fluttuando come i pipistrelli 
annebbiano il soflio dd freddo Borea ; 
quando la grandine precipita con crudele violenza 
e le prime brinate cominciano a pizzicare, 
abbigliate di bianco gelo ; 
una notte, sul tardi, un'allegra coinpagnia 
di gente errante e vagabonda 
faceva baccano da Poosie Nansie, 
per bere il superfluo del loro cenci : 
e bevendo e ridendo 

essi declamavano stravagantemente e cantavano ; 
e saltan do ed urtandosi 
faceva no risuonare il piatto dell'arrosti). 

In primo posto accanto al focolare, in vecchi stracci r 
sedeva una ben fornito di bisacce piene di tozzi 
ed il suo zaino tutto in ordine : 
la sua amica giaceva tra le sue braccia 
riscaldata dalX'usguebaugk e da coperte — 
uo soldato, 

' My grannie bought me ■ book. 
But I kept /a»- /rem the school. 
'And bad been Ihrown into more than one jaiL 



448 BURNS IN ITALIAN 

che con sonori baci rispondeva ai baci della ^ovane men- 

dicante ; 
mentre questa appressava a lui la sua avida bocca, 
proprio come una scodella da elemosina. 
Ciascun bacio sempre suonava 
proprio come la frusta d'un carrettiere ; 
(inch^ dimenandosi ed agitandosi come un rodomonte, 
ruggl questa canzone : 

Aria, 

10 sono un figlio di Marte ; sono stato a molte guerre 
e mostro le mie ferite e le cicatrici dovunque arrivo ; 
questa qui I'ebbi per una ragazza e quest'altra in una trincea, 
quando andai a ricevere i Francesi a suono di tamburo. 

Lai de daudle, ecc. 

11 mio periodo da coscritto io lo feci dove ii mio maestro 

esal6 il suo ultimo respiro, 
quando il dado sanguinante fu gettato sulle colline d'Abram ; 
e terminai il mio servizio quando la galante partita fu finita 
ed il Moro battuto fu messo a suono di tamburo. 
Lai de daudle, ecc. 

Ultimamente fui con Curtis, in mezzo alle batterie galeg 

gianti 
e ci lasciai per prova un braccio ed una gamba ; 
ma se il mio paese avesse bisogno di me, con Elliot alia mia 

testa, 
io mi trascinerei sulla mia gruccia al suono di un tamburo. 
Lai de daudle, ecc. 

Ed ora sebbene io debba mendicare con un braccio ed una 

gamba di legno, 
e con molti cenci pendenti dalle mie natiche; 
io sono cosl felice con la mia bisaccia, la mia bottiglia e la 

mia ganza, 
come quando io era solito, vestito in scarlatto, seguire il 

tamburo. 

Lai de daudle, ecc. 



THE JOLLY BEGGARS 44(» 

E quantunque coi capelli biancbi, io debba sopportare i colpi 

deH'inverno, 
avendo i boscht e le rupi 5f>esse volte per casa, 
pure quando io vendo il mio secondo sacco e bevo la inia 

seconda bottiglia, 
io potrei aflVontare uno squadrone dell'Infenio al suono del 

tajnburo. 

Recitative, 
Egli Anl e I'assito trem6 
sopra il niggito del COto; 
mentre i topi spaventati guardavano indietro, 
cercando i bucbi piu profondi ; 
un valente suonatore di violino dal sud cantuccio 
gridb "bis !" 

Ma si alz6 la marziale donna 
e fece cessare il gran fracasso. 

Io una volta era una ragnzza, bench£ non possa dirvi quando, 
e tuttora il mio piacerc. k nei giovanotti belli ; 
mio padre d'uno squadrone di dragon! faceva parte ; 
nessuna meraviglia cb'io sia presa d'un soldato. 
Cantate, Lai de lal, ecc. 



famoso fanfar 



II primo dei miei amanti era un 
battere il niUanie tamburo era il 
il sue garetto era cosi fermo e li 
cbe io era innamorata pazza del 
Cantate, Ul de lal, ecc. 



Ma il vecchio degno cappellano gli fece un bnitto tiro ; 
e abbandonai la spada per la chiesa : 
egli avventurb I'aniina ed io misi a rischio il mio corpo ; 
e fu allora cbe io detti prova della mia infedeltk al i 
soldata 

Cantate, Lal de lal, ecc 

Mi disgustai presto del mio stupido sanlificato, 
il reggimento in massa io prcsi per niarito, 



45© BURJ^S IN ITALIAN 

dal dorato sperone al piflero io era pronta ; 
altio non domandava fuorch^ fosse un soldato. 
Canute, Lai de lal, ecc. 

La Pace per6 mi ridusse a domandare Telemosina per di- 
sperazione, 

finch^ non ritrovai il mio vecchio garzone alia fiera di Cun- 
ningham ; 

i suoi stracci del reggimento peniolavano cosi allegri, 

che il mio cuore si rallegr6 atla vista di un soldato. 
Cantate, Lal de lal, ecc. 

E cosi io son vissuta— io non so quanio tempo, 
e posso ancora far baccano col bicchiere e con la canzone; 
ma finchi con ambo le man! potr6 stringere un bicchiere, 
alU lua salure, io beirb, o mio eroe e mio soldato I 
Canlatc, Lal de lal, ecc. 

Recitalivo. 
Un povero pagliaccio in un canto 
sedeva crapulando con una calderaia ; 
essi non curavano affatto chi conducesse il coro, 
tanto cssi erano occupati tra loro ; 
inline stordito dal bere e dal fare I'amore, 
si levo vacillando e fece una smorfia ; 
poi si volto e pos6 un bacio suUa Griziie ; 
posci-i accordo le canne della sua comamusa con grave smorfia. 



La si[;nora Saggena i una pazza quando i ubbriaca ; 
il signor liriccone h una bestia in una sessions della c 
ei non t 1.^ che un allievo io credo; 
ma io sono una bestia di professione. 

Mia nonna mi comprb un libro, 

ma io mi tcnni lontano dalla scuola ; 

io temo di aver tradito il mio talento, 

ma che i.osa v'.ispetteresie da una bestia? 

Per bere io riscbicrci il mio collo ; 

una doniia c la mcth della mia occupazione ; 



THE JOLL Y BEGGARS 

ma che cosa altro vi potete voi aspettarc 

da uno che apertamenie £ stupido? 

lo una volta fui legato come un vitello 

per aver bevuto copiosamente e giurato civilmente ; 

un'altra volta fui rimproverato in cliiesa 

per avere maltrattato una fanciulla nella mia allegrez: 

Povero Pagliaccio che salti per far lidere, 

che nessuno ti chiami con ironia : 

vi h ancbe, mi dicono, in Corte 

un Pagliaccio chiamato Primo Ministro. 

Osservate voi quel giovane revcrendo 

cbe fa delle smortie per soUeticare la folia? 

Egli beffeggia la nostra squadra di ciarlatani— 

i una rivalitk di ) 



E ora io dir6 la mia conclusions, 

perchft vcrameniG io sono furiosamente sitibondo : 

colui che k bestia per sft stesso, 

buon Dio, egli £ assai ptu stupido di me t 

Recitativ9. 
Poscia parib una intrepida matrona 
che conodceva bene I'arte di irappolare la sterlina ; 
ell a aveva uncinato piu d'una borsa 
ed era stata gettala in piii d'un carcere. 
II suo Colombo eia stato un giovane delle Terre-Altc, 
ma la corda del boia toccb a lui in sorte 1 
Con sospiri e singhioiii ella cosi comincib 
a piangere il suo bravo Giovanni il Montanaro. 

Nelle Alte-Terre era nato il mio amore ; 

le leggi delle Terrc-Basse egli teneva in dispregio ; 

ma egli sempre fu fedele alia sua tribu, 

il mio valente e bravo Giovanni il Montanaro. 

Cantate, oh J il mio bravo Giovanni il Montanaro I 
Cantate, oh I il mio bravo Giovanni il Montanaro ! 



452 



BURNS IN ITALIAN 



Non vi 6 un giovane in tutto il pacsc. 
simile al mio Giovanni il Montanaro. 

Aria {contin.). 

Col suo giuppone ed il suo plaid di tartan 
e la buona spada al suo (ianco, 
egli feriva il cuore delle donne, 
il mio valente e bravo Giovanni il Montanaro. 
Cantate, oh ! ecc. 

Noi battevamo tutta la contrada da Tweed a Spey^ 
e vivevamo allegri come signori e signore : 
perch 6 egli non temeva nessuno delle Terre- Basse, 
il mio valente e bravo Giovanni il Montanaro. 
Cantate, oh ! ecc. 

Fu bandito al di Ik del mare; 
ma, prima che la gemma fosse suU'albero, 
lungo le mie gote scorrevano le perle, 
abbracciando il mio Giovanni il Montanaro. 
Cantate, oh ! ecc. 

Ma, ahi ! essi finirono col prenderlo 
e lo relegarono in una prigione : 
maledizione a tutti coloro 

che hanno impiccato il mio bravo Giovanni il Montanaro. 
Cantate, oh ! ecc. 

Ed ora vedova io devo piangere 
i piaceri che non tomeranno mai piu ; 
nessun conforto fuori d'una sincera fiaschetta, 
quando io penso a Giovanni il Montanaro. 
Cantate, oh ! ecc. 

Recitativo, 

Un pigmeo di strimpellatore, che, col suo violino, 

era costumato di suonare nei mercati e nelle fiere, 

quella gamba vigorosa e quella grossa taglia (egli non toe- 

cava piu alto) 
avevano forato il suo cuore come un crivello 



THE JOLL Y BEGGARS 

e gettato nel fuoco. 

Con la mano siill'anca e I'occbio in alto 

trasse la sua gamma come un gemito, uno, du 

poi in un tuono arioso, 

il piccolo Apolto 

orob con un gaio allcgreito 

il suo A solo. 

Lasciatemi levare per tergere questa lacrima 
e venite can me e slate la mia cara, 
ed allora i vosCri affanni ed i vostri timori 
potranno fischiare al resto. 



e di tutte le arie, che iu ho sempre 
a donna od a fanciulla, la piii dolce 
fa sempre " Fischiate sul resto." 

Noi sareino alle feste della mietitura ed alle nozze, 
ed oh ! come noi vivremo piacevolmente ; 
noi beveremo tanto lino a che papk Affanno 
camerk "Fischiate sul resto." 
lo sono, ecc. 

Noi tanto allegramente rosicchieremo le ossa 
e ci scalderemo contro il muro 
ed a nosiro bell'agio, quando ci piaceri, 
noi fischieremo sul resto. 
lo sono, ecc. 

Ma schiudetemi II cielo dci vostri incanti 
e finch^ io solleticher6 il crine suUe corde di budello, 
la fame, il freddo e simili mali 
potranno fischiare sul resto. 
lo sono, ecc. 

Reciiativo. 
Le sue lagrime avevaoo colpito un vlgoroso calderaio, 
nel tempo stesso che il povero strimpellatore di corde ; 



454 



BURNS AV ITALIAN 



egli prese il suonatore di violino per la barba 
e tir6 fuori uno spadone amigginito. 

Giur6, per tutto ci6 che h degpio di giuramento, 
di trafiggerlo come un piviere; 

a meno che egli avesse voluto (in da quel momento 
abbandonargliela per semprc. 

Con I'occhio spaventato il povero diavolo 
cadde in ginocchio 
cd implor6 grazia con faccia pictosa 
e cosl la querela fin). 

Ma sebbene il suo piccolo cuore soAVisse 
quando il calderaio se la stringeva al petto, 
egli fingeva di ridere distrattamente, 
quando il calderaio cosl a lei si volse : 

Aria. 
Mia bella fanciulla, io lavoro in rame ; 
calderaio 6 il mio mestiere : 
io ho viaggiato per tutte le terre cristiane 
con questo mio mestiere. 

10 ho guadagnato dell'oro ; sono stato amiolato 
in molti nobili squadroni ; 

ma invano essi mi ricercarono, quando io disertai 
per andare a rappezzare la caldaia. 
Io ho guadagnato, ecc. 

Disprczzate questo nanetto, questo a\'vizzito mostricciattolo 
ed associatevi a questi che portano 
la valigia ed il sacco di cuoio 
e per questo bicchiere, mia fede e mia speranza, 
e per questo caro Kilbagie, 

se mai voi aveste bisogno o v'incontraste con poco, 
che io non possa mai piu bagnare la mia gola. 
E per questo bicchiere, ecc. 

Recitativo, 

11 calderaio prevalse— la bella senza arrossire 
cadde ncllc sue braccia 



THE JOLLY BEGGARS 

vinta completamente, parte per amore, 

parte perch^ ella era ubbriaca. 

Sir Violino, con una aria 

Che mosCrava un uomo di spirito, 

fece voti al buon accordo con i compagni 

e fece goi^ogliare la botliglia 

alia loro salute quella notte. 

Ma Cupfdo btsbetico lanci6 una freccia 

che fece cattivo gioco ad una dama ; 

il suonatore di violino I'attacci dall'avanti all'indictro 

dietro la gabbia dei polli. 

II auo signore, un individuo del campo d'Omero, 

sebbene zoppicante per malattia 

si levb alia meglio e salt6 sCi come un pazio 

e li minaccib del profitto del bel Davide quella notte, 

Egli era un giovane sprezzante ogni cuia 

come mai Bacco artuol6, 

sebbene la Fortuna crudele pesb su lui, 

il suo cuore ella mai conquisi6. 

Egli non aveva aitro desiderio — che di essere allegro; 

n4 altro bisogno — che la sete; 

egli non odiava altro che I'essere triste, 

e cosl la musa gli suggert 

queslo canto quella notte. 

lo sono un bardo di nessun conto 

innanzi a gente di alta condiiione e questo 6 tutto : 

ma come Omero la moltiCudine meravigliata 

da citt^ a cittk io atcira 

Coro. 
Dopo tutto questo e dopo tutto questo 
e due volte quanto h tutto questo ; 
io ne ho perduto una, me ne restano due : 
io bo donne abbas tan z a dopo tutto cio. 

lo niai be\'et(i alio stagno delle Muse, 
al ruscello di Castalia e questo h tutto ; 



456 BURNS IN ITALIAN 

ma questo che scorre, che riccamente spumeggia^ 
io chiamo 11 mio Elicona. 

Dopo tutto questo, ecc. 

Grande am ore io nutro per le belle, 
io sono il loro umile schiavo e questo h tutto ; 
ma la volontk del signore io la riguardo ancora 
un peccato mortale I'infrangerla. 
Dopo tutto questo, ecc. 

In dolce estasi questa ora noi passiamo 

nel mutuo amore e questo h tutto ; 

ma quanto lungamente la pulce possa mordere, 

I'inclinazione regoli questo. 

Dopo tutto questo, ecc 

I loro giri e le loro astuzie mi hanno reso pazzo, 
esse mi hanno scacciato e questo h tutto ; 
ma sbarazzate il ponte ed ecco— il Sesso I 
Io amo le pettegole dopo tutto. 
Dopo tutto questo, ecc 

Recitativo, 
Cos) cant6 il Bardo e le mura di Nansie 
tremarono sotto un tuono di applausi, 
da ciascuna bocca echeggiati ; 

essi vuotarono le loro tasche ed impegnarono i loro cenci, 
appena lasciandosene di che coprirsi il di dietro, 
per calmare la loro ardente sete. 
Allora per la seconda volta Tallegra campagnia 
richiese il poeta 

di aprire la sua balletta e di scegliervi una canzone, 
una ballata delle migliori. 
£i si lev6 e rallegrandosi 
fra i suoi due Debora 
guardossi intomo e vide tutti 
impazienti d'intuonare il Coro. 

AricL 
Ecco ! il vaso fumante innanzi a noi, 
osservate il nostro circolo g^oviale in cenci ! 



THE fOLLY BEGGARS 

Riprendete il coro al ritomello 
e con lrasi>orto cantiamo. 

Coro. 
Al diavolo quelli protetti dalla legge 1 
La liberU k uno splendido festino I 
Lc corti furono erette per i codardi, 
le chiese fabbricate per piacere ai preti ! 
Che cosa i un titolo? che cosa 6 un tesoro? 
Che cosa h la cura delta riputazione ? 
PuTchi noi passiamo una vita di piacere, 
ch'importa come e dove? 
Al diavolo, ecc. 

Un giuoco ed una favola sempre pronti 
noi vagabond) erriamo tutto il giomo 
e la notte ; nelle capanne o nelle stalle 
accarezziamo le nostre femmine sul lieno. 

Al diavolo, ecc. 
La carrozza segulta dalla. scorta 
viaggia piti leggiera per la campagna? 
II saggio letto da matrimonio 
assiste alle piii brillanti scene d'amore? 

Al diavolo, ecc. 
La vita ^ tutta una babilonia, 
non ci curiamo aiTatto di saper come va 
facciano della ipocrisia circa il decoro 
quelli che hanno reputation! da perdere. 

Al diavolo, ecc. 
Bevo alle valigie, alle bisacce ed ai sacchi ; 
Bevo a tutta la compagnia vagabonda \ 
Bevo alle nostre femmine ed ai nosiri marmocchi 1 
Tutti unanimi gridate — Amen ! 

Al diavolo quelli che la legge protegge ! 
La liberty ^ una festa gloriosa 1 
Le corti furono ereite per i codardi, 
le chiese fabbricate per piacere al prete ! 



458 BURNS IN ITALIAN 

^am o' <§hantcr. 

In this poem there are a great many departures from 
the original. "To tak* the gate" is again absurdly 
rendered "a prendere le porte della citt^;" ^ "gettin* fou" 
he leaves out, it may be in the interest of propriety, 
but not to the improvement of Bums*s unique picture. 
Kirkton Jean, as with de Wailly, gets her sex changed, 
and is transformed into "Giovanni il sacrestano."- 

"Thou sat as lang as thou had siller" 

is rendered at such length that one almost loses one's 
breath in reading it — 

"Tu restavi lungamente a here fino a che ti restavano soldi 
in tasca."^ 

This is terrible ! — as a translation of the poet's concise 
hne. "Mungo's mither" is rendered "Madre Mungo** 
instead of "madre di Mungo." Then "guid blue bonnet '* 
is rendered " bel barretto blu " ; " blti " belongs to no 
language with which I am acquainted, perhaps it is in- 
tended for the French word "bleu," as he uses this word 
in describing the immortal Tam*s breeks " That ance were 
plush, o' guid blue hair," as "Che una volta erano pelose, 
di un bel pelo bieu,^^ Why he goes out of his way for 
these words, and despises the "azzuro" of his own lan- 
guage I cannot tell; it certainly cannot be on account 
of interfering with the rhythm, for the instances we have 
before us show that any rule upon which this is made 
must be of a most elastic character. There are other 
defects which I do not cite ; the above are fair examples. 

^To take the gates of the city. 'John the sacristan. 

' Thou remained as long drinking as there remained with thee pence 
in thy purse. 



TAM a SHANrBR 45^ 

TAM a SHANTER. 
RACCONTO. 

Quando i merciaiuoli incominciano a sgombra.re le vie 

e i vicini assetati s'incontrano aU'osteria; 

quando i giomi di mercato volgono alia tarda ora 

e la gente comincia a prendere le porte della citti ; 

mentre noi sediamo innanii ai bicchieri di birra, 

e ci seniiamo veramente mollo felici ; 

noi non pensiamo alle lunghe miglia della Scozia, 

alle paludi, alte acque, allc barriere ed alle siepi 

che si frappongono tra noi e la nostra casa, 

dove sta la nostra burbera e torva Signora, 

che aggroiia le sue ciglia, come per imminente lempesta 

careizando la sua coUera per tenerla ben calda. 

Questa veritk prov6 I'onesto Tarn o' Shanter 

una sera che egli uscl galoppando da Ayr, 

(antjca Ayr che mai cittk sorpassei^ 

per onesti uomini e belle femmine). 

O Tam ! tu fossi siato cos! saggio 

da seguire il consiglio della tua moglie Caterina ; 

essa ti aveva ben detio che tu eri un buono a niente, 

uno scervellato, un ciarlone, un ubbriacone; 

che dal Novembre fino aU'Oltobre 

non un sol giomo di mercalo tu fosti sobrio ; 

che ad ogni sacco di grano da macinare col mugnaio 

tu restavi lungamente a bere fino a che ti resiavano soldi in tasca; 

che ixgd\ volta che fu messo un ferro di cavallo, 

il maniscaico e tu andaste gridando ubbriacbi ; 

che in chiesa ancora la domenica. 

tu restavi a bere con Giovanni i! sacrestano fino al Liinedl. 

Ella profetizz6, che presto o tardi, 

tu saresti stato trovato annegato in Ibndo al Doon I 

O preso di notte dagli stregoni 

presso I'antica chiesa di Alloway abitata dagli spriti. 

Ah ! gentili signore I m'addolora 

it pensare quanti teneri consigli, 

quanti saggi avvenimenti lungamente ripetuii, 

il marito dispregia, quando essi vengono dalla sua donna \ 



46o BURNS IN ITALIAN 

Ma al nostro racconto : — Una notte di mercato. 

Tarn aveva trovato proprio un bel cantuccio ; 

presso un focolare chc brillava alleg^amente, 

con una magnifica birra, che ubbriacava divinamente \ 

ed al suo fianco, Giovanni il calzolaio, 

suo antico, fedele, assetato compagno. 

Tarn lo amava proprio come un fratello ; 

essi s'erano ubbriacati insieme per delle settimane intere ! 

S'inoltrava la notte tra i canti ed i baccani ; 

e la birra loro sembrava diventasse migliore. 

Tam e Postessa facevano i g^aziosi : 

con favori scg^eti, dolci, e prcziosi; 

il calzolaio raccontava le sue storie le piu curiose ; 

faceva coro ad esse il pronto riso delFoste : 

fuori la tempesta poteva urlare e fiscbiare a suo comodo 

che Tam si curava tan to della tempesta quanto d'un fischio. 

La Cura, irata di vedere un uomo cosl felice, 

si annegava essa stessa tra i bicchieri di birra ! 

Come farfalle volanti verso Talveare cariche di tesoro, 

cosl i minuti alati fuggivano nel piacere : 

i re possono essere felici, ma Tam era piu glorioso, 

vincitore di tutte le miserie della vita ! 

Ma i piaceri sono come i papaveri aperti : 
voi ne cogliete il fiore, le sue foglie si perdono ! 
O come la neve cadente sul flume, 
bianca un momento — poi liquefatta per sempre ; 
o come I'aurora boreale 

che scompare prima che voi possiate fissame il luogo ; 
o come I'amabile forma delParcobaleno, 
che scompare in mezzo alia tempesta. 
Nessun uomo pu6 fermare n^ il tempo, n^ il mare ; 
s'approssima Fora che Tam deve montare a cavallo ; 
questa ora h la pietra angolare della fabbrica nera della Notte : 
in questa critica ora egli mont6 sulla sua bestia; 
e fu nella via con una notte tale, 
che mai povero pescatore affront6 Puguale. 
II vento soffiava come se avesse voluto dare I'ultimo respiro; 
risuonavano le ondate di pioggia sbattute quk e Ik dalla 
tempesta ; 



TAM ff SHANTBR 461 

la tenebra ignhiottiva i rapidi baleni : 

alto, profondo, prolungato muggiva il tuono ; 

in quella nolle anche un fanciullo avrebbe capito 

che il diavolo aveva qualche affare per le manL 

Ben montato sulla sua giumenta giigia, Meg, 

che una migliare mai fu vista per Crottare, 

Tarn se ne andava a traverse 11 fango e la grandine, 

incurante della pioggia, del vento e del lampi ; 

ora tenendo fermo il sua bel berretto blii, 

ora caniicchiando qualche vecchia canzone di Scozia, 

ora guardandosi attorno con prudente cum 

per timore d'essere assalito all'impensata dagli spiriti ; 

$i awicinava intanto alia cbiesa d'Alloway, 

dove tutta la notte gridano i fantasmi e le civette. 

In questa momento aveva Uaversato il guado, 

dove il procaccio era perito nella neve ; 

ed aveva oltrepassato gli alberi e la grossa pietra 

dove quell'ubbriacone di CbaHie si ruppe I'osso del collo ; 

ed aveva traversato i cespugli spinosi cd il mucchio di pietre 

dove i cacciatori trovarono il fanciullo assassinate, 

e lungi dal cespugli spinosi, il pouo 

dove la madre Mungo s'era impiccata. 

Innanzi a lui il Doon precipitava le sue onde ; 

la bufera muggiva con piu violenza attraverso i boschi ; 

i baleni fiammeggiavano da polo a polo ; 

vicino, sempre piii vicino i tuoni ranioreggiavano ; 

quando, luccicante fra gli alberi muggenti, 

tutta in fiamme apparve la chiesa d'Alloway ; 

da c%n\ apertura uscivano bagliori di luce, 

e di lontano s'udivano allegria e danze. 

O bravo inspiratore Giovanni Grano d'Oizo, 

quali danni tu ci puoi Tare disprezzare ! 

Con la birra nello stomaco, noi non temiamo alciin male ; 

ingoiato I'usquebaug noi terremmo testa al Diavolo 1 

Enlrambi fermentavano tanto nella lucca di Tam, 

che in veriti egli non avrebbe apprezzaco i diavoli un baiocco. 

A un tratto Maggie s'arrestJ) tanto spaventata 

che solo per la chiamata delle redini e degli jproni 



462 BURNS IN ITALIA/sr 

ella s'avventur6 verso la luce ; 

«d allora ! Tarn vide uno strano spettacolo ! 

Stregoni e spettri in una danza; 

non cotillon di recente venuto dalla Franc ia, 

ma vivaci e strane danze Scozzesi 

davano loro vita e I'argento vivo ai piedi: 

sul davanzale d'un flnestrone verso Test 

stava seduto il vecchio Nick nella forma d'una bestia, 

di un canaccio orribile, nero, peloso ed enorme ; 

far della musica era il suo mestiere; 

egli soffiava nella cornamusa e la faceva urlare 

tan to che il tetto e le mura tutti ne tremavana 

Bare stavano intorno come armadii aperti 

che mostravano i morti nelle loro ultime vesti : 

e per qualche forza magica e diabolica 

ciascuno nella sua fredda mano teneva una candela ; 

per essa Feroico Tarn 

pot^ vedere sulPaltare consacrato 

le ossa di un assassino nei ferri del suo supplizio ; 

due fanciulli non battezzati, lunghi due palmi ; 

un ladro la corda del quale da poco era stata tagliata, 

con la bocca che dava ancora I'ultimo rantolo ; 

cinque tomahawks dal sangue arruginiti, 

cinque scimitarre insozzate dalPassassinio ; 

un cappio che aveva strangolato un neonato; 

un coltello che aveva aperto la gola di un padre 

che il figliuolo aveva privato della vita, 

i capelli grigi del quale erano ancora appiccicati al manico; 

tre lingue di avvocati contorte 

cucite di menzogne come il pastrano d'un pezzente 

e cuori di preti, putrefatti, neri come il camino 

giacevano pestiferi, orribili in ogni luogo 

con altre cose atroci e spaventevoli, 

che il nominarle soltanto sarebbe delitto. 

Mentre Tarn guardava stupito e curioso, 

I'allegrezza e la gioia crescevano in enormitk ed in furore ; 

il pitferaio soffiava sempre con piii forza 

e quelli che danzavano raddoppiavano di rap'ditk ; 

saltavano, s*abbassavano, s'attraversavano, s'incrociavano, 



TAM ff SHANTBH 



tinchd ciascuna Strega sudata c fumicante, 
gett6 via Ic vesli e rientri 
nella danza con la sola c 



Ora Tarn ! O Tarn ! se fossero esse state delle fanciullc 

rotonde e ben tagliate, con tutte le loro attraiiivci 

e le loro camicie, invece di flaneUa sporca, 

fossero state di lino piu candido della neve ! 

Queste mie brache, unico paid, 

che una volta erano pelose, di un bel pelo bleu; 

io me le avrei tolte dalle mie anche 

per darle loro, per uno sguardo di queUe belle fanciulle ! 

Ma delle vecchie rugose, mufKte e grottescbc ; 

delle stregbe senza polpe, che avrebbero slattato una pule 

saltanti e capriolanti sopra una vacca cortiuta, 

mi meraviglio che non t'abbiano mosso lo stomaco. 

Ma Tam sapeva perfettamente quello che faceva. 

Vera una bella fanciulla ed allegra, 

aggregata quella notle nel coro delle streghe; 

molto nota sulle sponde di Carrick ; 

per molte besiie cui deite la morte, 

e perche fece affondare molti belli battelli, 

c danneggib niolti grani e molto orzo 

e tenne in spavento tutta la contrada. 

La sua corta camicia, di tela di Paisley, 

che ella aveva usato quando era piccolina, 

sebbene in lungheiza molto scarsa, 

era la mlgUore ch'ella avesse e n'andava altera. 

Ah 1 che poteva sapcre ia tua reverenda Nonna, 

che quella camicia comperata per la sua piccola Nannie 

per due lire scozzesi (esse erano luite le sue economie) 

avrebbe ornato una danza di stregoni? 

Ma qui la mia Musa deve abbassare la sua ala ; 

tal volo 4 troppo alto per le sue forie ; 

can la re caitie Nannie saltava e volava 

(la civettuola agile essa era e robusta), 

e come Tarn riniase, come udo stregato, 

pensando d'avere anicchito la sua vista ; 

Satana stesso se ne gloriava e si ditnenava per piaccre, 



464 BURNS IN ITAL/AAT 

e saltava e suonava con tutta la sua possa : 

iinch^ dopo un primo salto, ed un secondo, 

Tarn fini con lo smarrire la ragionc 

e grid6 : " Benissimo la Camicia-corta ! " 

Aliora in un istante tutto si fece oscuro : 

ed appena era ripartita Maggie, 

che tutta la legione infemale si slanci6 dietro i suoi passi. 

Come api stizzate ronzanti 

quando i pastori per predarle assaliscono il loro alveare ; 

come nemici mortali della lepre, inseguenti essa 

quando, pop ! ella sbuca sotto il loro naso ; 

come folia precipitantesi nei mercati, 

quando " Al ladro, al ladro " risuonano le voci ; 

cosl Maggie corre, e le streghe la inseguono 

con molte grida spaventevoli e demoniache. 

Ah, Tam ! Ah, Tam 1 Tu avrai il tuo regale ! 

Neirinferno esse ti arrostiranno come una aring^ ! 

In vano la tua Caterina attenderk il tuo ritorno ! 

Caterina sark presto una povera vedova ! 

Ora, corri il piu che puoi, Meg, 

e guadagna la pietra del centro del ponte 

Ik potrai dimenare la tua coda, 

esse non potranno traversare la corrente del fiume. 

Ma prima che ella riuscisse a toccare il centro del ponte 

essa dovette lasciare le sua coda al diavolo, 

perch^ Nannie, molto piu innanzi delle altre, 

stava sulla brava Maggie 

e s'afferrb a Tam con un furioso sforzo; 

ma essa poco conosceva il valore di Maggie — 

con un slancio ella mise in salvo il padrone, 

ma si lasci6 dietro la sua coda grigia : 

la Strega Pavea presa per i crini 

e aveva lasciato alia povera Maggie un moncherino. 

Ora chiunque di voi leggerk questo racconto verissimo, 
figli d'uomo e di femmina, fate attenzione : 
tutte le volte che vi sentite trasportato a here, 
o che le camicie corte ronzeranno nel vostro capo, 
pensate ! che voi potete pagarne la gioia troppo caramente 
ricordatevi della giumenta di Tam o' Shanter. 



DEATH AND DR. HORNBOOK 



465 



grath anb gt. ^pomDooli. 

The errors of de WaiUy are again copied by Ortensi. 
"Tostaporscaurme''isgivea"Per fennarmi o storpiarmi.*" 
Here, like de Wailty, he misunderstands " scaur," as meao- 
ing to "wound" instead of "scare"; and in "pouk my hips" 
he again follows de Wailly, giving "e mi lardellano i fianchi"* 
instead of "mi strappiano"*; "self-conceited sot" he ren- 
ders "saccente scozzese"*; "he gets his fairin'" he renders 
"ch' egli si buscherk il suo affare!"* These two latter 
are translations of de Wailly's corruptions, "suffisant 
Ecossais" and "qu'il attrape son aflaire" respectively, 
and are, as nearly as may be, the reverse of Bums's mean- 
ing, showing further, however, that it is a translation of de 
Wailly's version which Ortensi gives, and not an original 
translation of Bums. Enough of these proofs of careless- 
ness or ignorance, or both. The reader will no doubt 
detect the others for himself. 

LA MOSTE ED IL DOTTOR HORNBOOK. 
STORIA VERA. 

Certi libri non sono che menzogne da capo a fondo, 
e ceite grandi menzogne non fiirono mai scritte ; 
ancbe i ministri, essi sono stati riconosciuti 

spacciare una enormc meniogna 

ed appt^giarla alia Scrittura. 
Ma questo che io sono per dire, 
che ultimamente awenne di notte, 
i cosl vero come il diavolo nell'infemo 

o nella citt& di Uublino ; 
che mai pi& vicino ei viene a noi 

h una grande misericordia- 

■ To stop or maim me. * To lud (or stuff with bacon) my hips. 

' Pouk me. ' Sa^nt Seel. ' He will seek after his busiuesi. 



466 BURNS IN ITALIAN 

La birra del casale mi aveva fatto allegro 

io non era ubbriaco, ma ne aveva gik abbastanza; 

io barcoUava talvolta, ma pertanto mi guardava 

d'evitare i fossi ; 
e monti colli pietre e cespugli io li distingueva ancora 

da fantasmi e streghe. 

La luna cbe saliva cominci6 a dar luce 

sopra le lontane colline di Cumnock ; 

a contare i suoi comi, con ogni mia possa, 

io mi misi, 
ma se essa n'avesse tre o quattro 

io non posso dirlo. 

Io aveva girato la montagna 

e vacillando giungeva al mulino di Willie, 

appoggiandomi sul bastone con ogni mia cura 

per esser piu sicuro : 
pure di tanto in tanto contro mia voglia 

io traballava. 

lA io trovai qualche cosa 

che mi gett6 in una spaventevole imsoluzione ; 

una freccia imponente al di sopra d'una spalla 

vacillante pendeva; 
una forca a tre denti era posata sulUaltra 

grossa e lunga. 

La sua statura pareva lunga due aune Scozzesi ; 
la sua forma la piu singolare che io mai vidi, 
perch^, pel diavolo, ell'era senza ventre ! 

£ poi le sue gambe, 
esse erano cosl meschine, cosl affilate e piccole 

come barbazzali di legno. 

" Buona sera *' diss'io : " Amico, siete stato voi a falciare 
mentre gli altri intendono a seminare?" 
Egli parve facesse una specie di fermata, 

ma non parl6 ; 
alia fine, io dissi : " Amico, dove andate voi, 

volete ritornare?" 



DEATH AND DOCTOR HORNBOOK 4< 

Egli parlb profondamcnte ; " II mio nome h Morte, 
ma non aver paura." lo dissi : " Per la inia ffi, 
voi siete venuta forse per troncare la mia vita 

ma ascoltatemi, cara mia, 
10 vi consiglio bene ; guardatevi dal farvi male, 

vedcte, ecco un coltellol" 

"Buon uomo" ella disse, "chiudete il vostro coltello, 
o non ho voglta di provare il suo valore ; 
ma se cos) fosse, io sarei pronta 



"Bene, bene" diss'io "vadaj 

venite, datemi la vostra mano, e cosi siamo d'accordo ; 

noi riposeremo le nostre gambe e ci sederemo; 

Venice, datemi le vostrc notijie \ 
durante questo tempo voi avete bussato alia porta 

di molte case?" 

" Si, si " diss'ella, c scosse il suo capo, 
"e da gran tempo, da gran tempo infatti 
che bo cominciato a tagliare il Alo, 

ed a troncare il respiro : 
gli uomini devono fare qualche cosa per buscare il pane 

e cost fa la Morte. 

" Sei mila anni sono quasi passati 

da che fo il mio mcstiere di scannatore, 

ed invano furono studiati molti piani 

per fermarmi o sCorpiarmi ; 
finchfe un certo Hornbook i preso la cosa a sS 

e pel vero egli mi vincerk. 

"Voi conoscete lack Hornbook nel casale, 

il diavolo cangi la sua pancia in un sacco di tabacco : 

egli ha cosi ben fatto conoscenia con Buchan 

cd altri coUeghi, 
cbe i fanciulli mi fanno le tica ridendo 

e mi lardellano i fiaudiL 



468 BURNS IN ITALIAN 

"Guardate, ecco una freccia ed ecco un dardo, 
essi hanno ferito piil d*un cuore gagliardo ; 
ma il Dottore Hornbook con I'artc sua 

e la sua maledetta abilitk, 
ha fatto cos) che essi insieme non valgono un fico— 

al diavolo s'essi riescono ad uccidere ! 

"Ei fu proprio jeri, senza andar piu lontano, 

io lanciai un bel colpo ad uno; 

con minori, certo, io n^ho ucciso centinaia ; 

e ci6 non ostante, 
io ho toccato solo suU'osso, 

ma non dippiu. 

" Hornbook era vicino, pronto con Parte sua, 
ed aveva cosl bene fortificata la parte, 
che quando io guardai il mio dardo 

esso era cosl smussato, 
che, accidenti, s*esso avrebbe forato il cuore 

d*un cavolo verde ! 

"Io tirai la mia freccia con tal furia 
che quasi caddi per Io slancio ; 
ma appunto Tardito speziale 

sostenne il colpo; 
io avrei potuto cosl bene attaccarmi ad una cava 

di roccia viva. 

"Quelli stessi che egli non pu6 accudire, 
quantunque egli non avesse mai visto il ioro viso, 
purch^...in una foglia di cavolo e glie la mandino 

che appena egli la fiuta, 
la Ioro malattia e ci6 che la guarirk 

ei dice in una volta. 

"E poi le seghe d'un dottore, ed i coltelli 

d'ogni grandezza, forma e resistenza ; 

tutte le specie di scatole, di vasi e di bottiglie 

egli h sicuro d'averle ; 
i Ioro nomi latini egli li ripete cosl presto 

come FA, B, C. 



DEATH AND DOCTOR HORNBOOK 469 

"Calce di fossili, di terre e di piante; 
vero sd marino dei man ; 
farina di fave e di piselli ; 

e tutto in quantiti; 
acquaforK, qualunque cosa. volete, 

egli pu6 contentarvi. 

" Dippiu, nuovi e non comuni sCrumenti ; 

spiritus-urinus di capponi ; 

raschiature, limature, tritature dt coma di bachi 

distillati per si; 
sale alcalino di ritagli di code di lanzaie, 

e molte altre cose." 

"Tanto pcggio ora per le fosse del becchino Johnie Ged" 

diss'io: "sc quests notwie sono vere! 

II suo bel recinto dove crescevano le margherite 

bianche e belle, 
nessun dubbio cbe saranno solcate daU'aratro; 

Johnie sari rovinalo ! " 

La creatura gett6 un grido feroce, 

e disse : "Voi non avrete bisc^no dell'aratro, 

i cimiteri saranno presto abbastanza lavorati, 

non abbiate timore : 
essi saranno presto rotti da molte fosse 

" Per un uomo che ho ucciso di natural morte, 

per perdita di sangue o mancanza di respiro, 

questa notte io sono libera di prendere il mio giuramento 

che la sapienza di Hornbook 
ne ha vestiti una ventina deH'ultima loro veste 

con le sue gocce e le sue pillolc; 

"Un onesto tessitore di suo mestiere, 

la moglie del quale non aveva le mani atte al bisogno, 

comprb quattro soldi d'una mistura per guarirle la testa 

che era malata : 
la donna si pose dolcemente nel suo letto 

e pib non par]6. 



470 BURNS IN ITALIA^/ 

"Un proprietario di compagna s'era buscato dei vernu 

o dei borborigmi nel suo intestine ; 

il suo unico figlio and6 pel dottor Hornbook 

e lo pag6 bene. 
II giovane, per due buone giovani agnella 

divenne egli stesso proprietario- 

"Una bella ragazza (voi conoscete il suo nome) 

s'era gonfiato il ventre con una bevanda mal febbricata; 

essa s'af!id6 per nascondere il disonore, 

alle cure di Hornbook; 
Horn la spedl alia sua ultima dimora, 

per nasconderlo Ik. 

" Ecco un saggio della condotta di Hornbook ; 
cosl egli va avanti di giomo in giomo ; 
cosl egli awelena, uccide e sgozza 

e ben pagato per questo ; 
ma egli mi priva della mia preda legale 

con la sua dannata viltk. 

" Ma, ascoltate ! lo vi dir6 d'un progetto, 
per6 a nessuno voi dbvete palesarlo ; 
io inchioderb morto il saccente scozzese 

come una aringa ; 
appena ci incontreremo io scommetto un g^oat 

che egli si buscherk il suo affare ! * 

Ma proprio allora cominciava a raccontarlo, 

quando il vecchio martello della chiesa batt^ suUe campane 

una ora piccola dopo la mezzanotte : 

ci levammo entrambi : 
io presi la via che meglio mi piacque, 

e cosl fece la Morte. 



^0 a <|ttott0e. 

De Waill/s rendering is here again slavishly followed, 
even in its most palpable errors. "Cow'rin" is **sei- 



TO A MOUSE 471 

vaggia," and " silly wa's " are " misere mura," being respect- 
ively renderings of the "farouche" and "mis^rables murs" 
of de Wailly, without reference to the meaning of Bums. 
The same remark applies all through the poem. 

AD UN TOPO 

AL QUALE 10 AVEVA DISTRUTTO IL SIDO COL MIO ARATRO 
NEL NOVEMBRE DEL I785. 

Bestiolina liscia, selvaggia, timorosa, 

oh i qual panico nel tuo seno ! 

Non bai bisogno di fuggire cosl presiamente 

e d'un passo cosl precipitato ! 
Mi ripugnerebbe di correre dietro a te 

col niicidiale n 



e dolente che !a dominaiione deiru< 
ha rotto il patto sociale del la natura, 
e ch'essa giustifica questa cattiva opinione 

che ti fa fuggire 
innanzi a me, tuo povero compagno sulla terra 

e mortal come te I 

So bene che talvolta tu rubi ] 

Ma che cosa? Povera bestiolina, tu devi vivere'. 

Di tanto in tanto una spica di grano su due dozzine 

£ una debole domanda : 
ci6 porter^ feliciii al resto 

e non mi far^ mai difetto ! 

Tutta la tua piccola casetta in rovina ! 
I venti ne disperdono le misere mura 1 
E nulla, al presenie, per fabbricanie un'altra 

di muschio verde ! 
Ed i vcnti del freddo dicembre che anivano 

Bspri e mordent! ! 

Tu vedevi i campi nudi c spogliati 
e il rigoroso invemo venin, 



472 BURNS IN ITALIA AT 

e ben caldo qui, al riparo del suo soffio, 

tu credevi di dimorare, 
quando, crac 1 il vomero crudele h passato 

attraverso la tua cella ! 

Questo piccolo ammasso di foglie e di canapa 

chi sa quanti rosicchiamenti t'^ costato ! 

Ora tu sei stato espulso, in premio del tuoi lavori; 

senza casa n^ rifugio 
per sopportare le nevi liquefatte deirinvemo 

e le fredde bianche brinate. 

Ma tu, o topolino, non sei il solo 

a provare che la preveggenza soventi pu6 riuscir vana : 

i piani meglio combinati dei topi e degli uomini 

spesso riescono alia rovescia 
e non ci lasciano che dolore e pena 

in luogo della promessa gioia. 

Tu sei ancora felice comparato a me ! 

il solo presente ti riguarda; 

ma ahim^, io getto Tocchio indietro 

sopra lugubri prospettive 
e cio che h innanzi, bench^ io non possa vederci, 

io Pindovino o Io temo ! 

The remarks made above on the poems apply equally 
to the songs. 

§toi9, toha hae. 
is translated literally from de Wailly, not from Bums. 

BANNOCH BURN, 
ARRINGA DI ROBERTO BRUCE ALLA SUA ARMATA. 

Scozzesi che avete sanguinato sotto Wallace, 
Scozzesi che Bruce k sovente condotti, 
siate i benvenuti nel vostro letto sanguinolento 
o nella vittoria gloriosa ! 



SCOTS, WHA HAE 4 

Ecco il giomo ed ecco Tora, 
vedete la fronte della battaglia oscurarsi, 
vedete appressarsi le forie dell'orgoglioso Edoardo — 
Edoardo ! le catene e la schiavitii ! 

Chi sa:^ un infame traditore? 

Cbi riempirk la sua tomba d'una vigliaccheria ? 

Chi 6 cosl basso da essere schiavo? 

Traditore I Vile 1 Volgi le spalle e fuggi I 

Chi p«l Re e pel Diritto della Scoiia 

vuol menare con ardore la spada della libertk, 

vivere Ubero o morire libero? 

Caledoniano, avanti, con me ! 

Per i mail e le pene della oppressione t 

Per voi figli incatenali in schiavitii I 

Noi seccheremo le nostre piii preziose vene. 

liberi! 



Rovesciamo questi fieri usurpatorit 

La Libertll £ in ogni colpo? 

Avanti ! Vincere o morire I 



3luib SanB ^gnf. 



So painfully closely is de Wailly copied, and not Btiras, 
that even 

" Should auld acquaintance be forgot," 
where there was an opportunity of showii^ some small shred 
of independent following of the original by using the word 
"friendship" or such, is neglected, and de Wailly's 

"Est-ce que notre ancienoe liaison s'oublierait?" 
is slavishly reproduced by Ortensi, 

"La nostra antica relatione h obliata?" 
Indeed, he follows de Wailly so slavishly that he even 



474 BURNS IN ITALIAN^ 

exaggerates his errors. "A cup of kindness'' de Waillj 
renders "un coup de bonne amiti^." Ortensi translates 
this into the literal "un colpo di buona amicizia," 
forgetting that "colpo" has not the double meaning in 
Italian that "coup" has in French, and he is therefore 
either ignorant of or indifferent to the original ; and so 
on throughout 

IL BUON TEMPO ANDATO. 

La nostra antica relazione h obliata? 

Non si ridesterk piii nel nostro spirito? 

La nostra antica relazione h obliata? 

£ con essa i giomi del buon tempo andato? 

Coro, 

Per il buon tempo andato, mio caro, 

per il buon tempo andato, 

noi bevercmo anc6ra un colpo di buona amicizia, 

per il buon tempo andato. 

Noi siamo stati a correre insieme sulle colline 
e abbiam colto le belle margherite ; 
ma piu d'una volta abbiamo trascinato i piedi stanchi 

dopo il buon tempo andato. 

Noi ci siamo tutti due infangati nel ruscello 
dal levare del sole fino a mczzodl ; 
ma i vasti marl han ruggito tra noi 

dupo il buon tempo andato. 

Ed ecco la mia mano, mio fedele amico, 

e dammi la tua, 

e noi beveremo un colpo di tutto cuore 

per il buon tempo andato. 

E sicuramente voi terrete la vostra pinta 

e sicuramente io terr6 la mia, 

e noi berremo un colpo di buona amicizia 

per il buon tempo andata 



JOHN BARLEYCORN 475 

John ^iirlescorn- 

This piece lends itself so easily to translation that an 
error is not easy. Ortensi makes a mistake however in 
the line — 

"And sore surpris'd them all," 
which he renders — 

"E sorprese tutti con dispiacere." ' 
He misreads "sore," which has the meaning here of the 
Gennan "sehr," and would, I think, have been more 
correctly rendered by "smisuralamente." 

GIOVANNI GRAN IfORZO. 
BALL ATA. 

Vi erano in Oriente tre re, 

tre re grandi ed orgogliosi ; 

ed essi avevano solennementc giurato 

clie Giovanni Grand'orzo morirebbe. 

Essi presero un aratro e fatto un solco e gettatovelo 

licoprirono di zolle il suo capo ; 

ed essi ban giurato solennementc 

che Giovanni Grand'orzo h morto. 

Ma la gaia primavera tom6 amabilmente, 

e le pioggie caddero ; 

Giovanni Grand'orzo ricomparve 

e sorprese tutti con dispiacere. 

Venne I'ardenie sole d'estale 

ed egli divenne grande e forie ; 

il suo capo ben amiato di puntute spiche 

che nessuno poteva ledcrlo. 

Il grigio autunno arrivb dokemente 

ed egli si fece scialbo e pallida ; 

i suoi tremanti nodi, il suo capo abbatluto 

mostravanlo prossimo a cadere. 

'And lurpriied all with displnsure. 



476 BC//^A'S IN ITALIAIsr 

II suo colore impallidiva sempre piu^ 
egli cadde per maturity ; 
e allora i suoi nemici cominciarono 
a dimostrargli la loro furiosa rabbia. 

Essi prendono un'arma lunga e tagliente 

e lo tagliano al ginocchio : 

poi lo legano sopra una carretta 

come un malfattore falsario. 

Lo stendono a terra e sul dorso 
lo caricano di bastonate : 
lo levano innanzi alia tempesta 
e lo girano e rigirano. 

Riempiono una nera fossa 

di acqua fino agli orli : 

ci affogano Giovanni Grand*orzo; 

vi affondi o vi galleggi. 

Poi lo stendono sul suolo, 
per dargli maggior dolore. 
£ finch^ dk un segno di vita 
essi lo sbalzano avanti e indietro. 

Essi consumano su devorante fiamma 
il midollo delle sue ossa ; 
ma il mugnaio lo tratta peggio di tutti — 
egli lo schiaccia fra due pietre. 

Ed essi prendon il sangue del suo cuore, 
e lo bevono girando la coppa : 
e finch^ piu e piii ne bevono 
la loro gioia sempre piu cresce. 

Giovanni Grand'orzo era un coraggioso eroe 
di nobile impresa ; 

e se voi non fate che saggiare il suo sangue 
esso rinfrancherk il vostro coraggio. 

Esso fa che I'uomo dimentica il suo dolore; 
innalza tutte le sue gioie ; 
esso fa cantare il cuore della vedova 
sebbene la lacrima stagni nel suo occhio. 



JOHN BARLEYCORN 

Dunque inneggiamo a Giovanni Grand'o 

ciascuno il bicchicre nelU mano 

e che la sua grande posterity 

mai venga meno nell'antica Scozia t 



JBsra ^( 

With "bide the stour" he follows de Wailly with 
"tollererei la polvere," and again generally copies the 
French rendering instead of the original. 

^^AI<Y MORISON. 

O Mary, vieni alia finestra, 

6 I'ora desiata, I'ora convenuta 1 

Lasciami vedere quel sorriso e quello sguarda 

cfae rendono povero il tesoro dell'avaro : 

con qual gioia io tollererei la polvere, 

povero schiavo, di sole in sole, 

se io piolessi assicuranni questa ricca ricompensa, 

la bella Mary Morison t 

leri quando al suon de la tremante corda 
la danza Ira versa va la sala illuminata, 
il mio pensiero vol6 a te ; 
io sedeva, ma senza intendere wk vedere : 
abbench^ questa fosse graziosa, e quella bella, 
e quella laggiii la simpatica di tutta la cittk, 
io sospirai e dissi innanzj a tutte : 
" Voi non siete per5 Mary Morison." 

O Mary puoi tu fugare la oace 
di colui che sarebbe felice di morire per te? 
puoi In spezzare il cuore di colui 
che ha una sola colpa, quella d'amarti ? 
Se tu non vuoi rendere amore per amore, 
abbi fier Io meno pietk di me I 
Un pensiero crudele non pu6 essere 
pensiero di Mary Morison. 



478 BURNS IN ITALIAN/ 

is rendered fairly as to the meaning, but the song is 
difficult to recognize in its Italian drapery. 

" How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair " 

dressed up into 

"Come potetc vol fiorire cosi freschi e incantevoli,"* 

seems to show by its lumbering length, though giving the 
meaning, that the songs of Bums cannot be presented to 
the Italian world in a form even approaching the beauty 
and charm of the original. 

LE RIVE DEL DOON, 

O coUine c poggi del bel Doon 

come potete vol fiorire cosl freschi e incantevoli? 

Come potete voi can tare, o uccelletti, 

quando io sono cosi affranto, cosl carco di pene? 

Tu spezzerai il mio cuore, o uccello saltellante 

e foUeggiante sul biancospino fiorito : 

tu mi ricordi le finite gioie, 

Ic gioie partite che non tornan piu. 

Sovente ho errato presso il bel Doon 

per vedere le rose e i caprifogli intrecciati ; 

ed ogni uccello cantava il suo amore 

ed io stesso cantavo il mio : 

col cuore leggiero, io colsi una rosa 

tanto bella sopra un albero spinoso : 

e il mio perfido amante mi rub6 la rosa, 

ma, ahim^ !, ei mi lasci6 la spina. 

^(T ^Ittarg in ^gcaben. 

Ortensi makes a pretty poem of it, with some occa- 
sional liberties, one of them a very strange one 

"Vedi tu il tuo amante errante sulla terra'** 



^How can you bloom so fresh and enchantingly ? 
'See'st thou thy lover wandering upon the earth. 



TO MARY IN HEA VEN 



479 



is given for 

"Sec'st thou (by lover lowly laid," 
This rendering is rather inexplicable, and " amante enrante " 
is not very melodious. The piece is not unenjoyabl^ if 
we could forget the musical flow of the original. 

A MARIA IN CIELO. 

O mattulina Stella, dal ragglo pallida, 

che ami salutare I'alba niattinate, 
tu annunci di nuovo il giorno 

nel quale Maria fu strappata dal mio cuore 

Maria I cara ombra fuggita 1 
DoV^ il luogo del tuo felice riptose ? 

Vedi tu il tuo amante erranle suUa terra? 

Ne ascolti tu gli straiianti sospiri ? 
Dimenticher6 io quest'ora sacrosanta? 

Dimenticherb io il bosco santilicato 
presso il sinuoso Ayr dove noi c'incontramino, 

per vivere un giorno d'amore caduco ? 
L'eierniti non potri cancellare 

questi cari ricordi dcH'estasi passate, 
e la tua immagine nel nostro ultimo ampksso : 

Ah 1 noi non sognavamo ch'era I'uhimo I 
Baciava I'Ayr mormorante i sassi delle sue rive 

ombrose di boschi selvaggi e verdi ; 
le betulle odoranti ed il pallido biancospino 

s'allacciavano amorosamenle in questa scena incantevole. 

1 fiori germogliavano lascivi per essere c6Ui, 
gli uccelli cantavano I'amore suUe piante, 

tinchi ami tempo il sole in un tramonto di fuoco 

proclanib la fuga del giorno alato. 
Sempre quest! ricordi vegliano nella mia mente, 

che li custodisce con tenera ed avara cura : 
il tempo non fa che rendcrne I'impressione piu profonda, 

come i ruscelli che si scavano sempre piii profondo il 
loro letto. 



48o BURNS IN ITALIAN/ 

O Maria, cara ombra fuggita ! 

Dov'6 il luogo del tuo felice riposo? 
Vedi di Ik tu il tuo amante errante ancora in terra? 

Ascolti tu i miei disperati sospiri ? 

In his humorous pieces Ortensi still follows de Wailly. 
The renderings are creditable in so far as de Wailly's 
are, though, as always, the garb makes the piece look 
strange. 



^nnran drat). 

DUNCAN GRAY, 

Duncan Gray vcnne qui per corteggriare 

ah ! ah ! qual corte ! 
Tallegra notte del Natale quando no! siamo ebbri 

ah ! ah 1 qual corte ! 

Maggie lev6 ben alta la testa 
lo guard6 di sbieco e sdegnosamente 
e tenne il povero Duncan a rispettosa distanza. 
ah ! ah ! qual corte ! 

Duncano supplic6 e Duncano preg6, 

ah ! ah ! qual corte ! 
Meg fii sorda come Ailsa Craig 

ah I ah I qual corte ! 

Duncano sospir6 dentro e fuori, 
pianse da impazzire e da perdere gli occhi, 
parl6 di gettarsi in una cascata ; 
ah ! ah ! qual corte ! 

Tempo e caso non sono che una marea, 

ah ! ah ! qual corte ! 
L'amor spregiato h duro a supportarsi 

ah ! ah 1 qual corte 1 



k 



DUNCAN GRAY 

MorirA io come un paizo 
diss'egli, per una suberba donna? 
Ella pu6 andare in Francia per me I 
ah ! ab 1 qual corte ! 

Come ci6 arriv6, dite o dottori, 

ab ! ah ! qual corte ! 
Meg cadde malata— mentrc egli guariva 

ab ! ah I qual corte I 

Qualche cosa la torturava nel cuore ; 
per sollevarsi elle dette un sospiro, 
ed, ahi I, i suoi occhl dicevano tante cose 
ab ! ab ! qual corte I 

Duncan era un fanciullo di grazia 

ab 1 ab ! qual corte ! 
Lo stato di Maggie era pietoso 

ah ! ah I qual corte I 

Duncan non poteva esser la sua morte; 
la pietii Irjonfante sofTocb la sua collera : 
ora essi sono allegri e felici 
ah ! ab ! qual corte I 



The chorus of this song baffles Onensi, as itideed it 
has baffled many others. He stumbles also over "O' 
what'n a style," which he renders "od in qual' anno"' 
instead of "de qual stile," ^ and he makes sad havoc 
with the line 

" This chap will dearly like our kin'," 
which be renders in such a way as to make one wonder 



' Or in what year. 
'See page 150. 



482 BURNS IN ITAL/A.V 

what meaning he attaches to the song, and ii he attaches 
any definite meaning to the line in question, as he 
gives it 

" Che questo giovane sark caramente come nostro re," * 

a fearful and wonderful concoction for the pithy line of 
Bums. 

ROBIN. 

Vi era un garzone ch*era nato a Kyle, 
ma in qual giorno od in qual' anno ? 

10 penso che non val la pena 
d'essere cosi precisi con Robin. 

Robin era un corridore 

corridore buontempone, corridore buontempone; 

Robin era un corridore 

corridore buontempone, corridore buontempone. 

11 penultimo anno del nostro monarca 
era cominciato da venticinque giorni : 

fu allora che un colpo di vento di Gennaio 
mand6 la sua strenna a Robin. 

La commare gli guard6 nel palmo dclla mane • 

chi vivrk vedrk, dess'ella, 

questo fanciullone non sark uno sciocco, 

io penso che noi lo chiameremo Robin. 

Egli avrk grandi e piccoli infortunii 
ma sempre un cuore al disopra d'essi : 
egli sark sempre un cuore per noi, 
noi saremo orgogliosi di Robin. 

Ma sicuro come tre volte tre fan nove, 

io vedo in ogni tratto e linea 

che questo giovane sark caramente come nostro re, 

ed io mi rallegro con te, Robin. 



* That this youth will be dearly as our king. 



HI^^BHH^^^^^^^^ 



ROBIN 483 

Buona fede, diss' ella, ed io dubito 
che voi metterete discordia tra le fanciuUe ; 
ma voi potete avere venti difetti, peggiori, 
cosl la Benedizione ^ su voi, Robin. 

Robin era un corridore 

corridore buontempone, corridore buontempone ; 

Robin era un corridore 

corridore buontempone, corridore buontempone. 

Some of the enors in the other pieces are too ridiculous. 
"The auld guidwife's weel hoardit nits" 
becomes 

"II bel mucchio de noci della vecehia megera" ;* 
this should of course be "massaja." In "Auld Rob 
Morris," 

" His darling and mine," 
he goes out of his way to corrupt, in an incomprehensible 
way, into 

" la sua cara c beniamiiia" 
btniamina being the feminine for Benjamin, whatever he 
means by that. "Riding graith" in "Holy Fair" is "atto 
da cavalcare"' instead of "abito"': and finally, in the 
" Poem of Life " occurs an instance of carelessness, which 
makes his rendering exceedingly funny. Referring to 
"auld Satan" Bums says 

"Syne, whip I his tail ye'U ne'er cast saut on." 
This de Wailly translates with almost verbal accuracy — 
" Et, courez sus I vous ne lui mettrei jamais de set sur la queue." 

' The line heap of nuts of the old threw, 

" Act (or way) of riding. 

»Dre»». 



484 BURNS IN ITALIAN^ 

Ortensi seems carelessly to have read "sel** (salt) as 
"selle" (saddle) and so we have the comical reading 

" e correte su ! voi non gli mettcrete ma la sella sulla coda."* 

One would have thought that the ludicrous picture of 
"auld Satan" careering about with "a saddle ** on his 
tail might have warned him that there was something 
wrong in his "uptak'." 

Perhaps it is only fair to say that possibly some of the 
blunders may be due to misprints, for the book so 
abounds in printer's errors as to show that any correction 
of proofs that may have taken place must have been of 
the most superficial nature. Superficiality, unfortunately, 
is only too painfully charactenstic of the translations 
themselves. 

The writer of an English preface to this work says he 
advised the author "to throw his translation of Bums 
into a metrical form," and adds, "it is not enough that 
a translator reproduces his author's meaning, he must 
also strive to convey to the reader of the translation, as 
near as possible, the same impression as the original con- 
veys to those conversant with it. This is what Signor 
Ortensi has aimed at." The characteristics of a good 
translation are exceedingly well stated in these words, 
but whilst fully appreciating the time and labour spent, 
and no doubt the kindly intention, no one will consider 
for a moment that Signor Ortensi has achieved his pur- 
pose, whatever he may have aimed at. I see the present 
volume is called "Parte Prima," and so infer that 
further translations will appear. If so, Signor Ortensi 
must become better acquainted with the original; avoid 



* And, quick ! you wiU never put the saddle on his tail. 



MISCELLANEOUS 485 

the abject, slavish following of other translators; avoid 
the long, lumbering lines which are so abundant; try to 
write the songs so that they can be sung to the music 
to which the original songs are set; then he may accom- 
plish the desirable achievement so fittingly described by 
the amiable writer of this English preface. 



1 



SCOTTISH GAELIC. 

In coming to the ancient languages of our own countiy 
I have had more difficulty in discovering translations than 
I had even with the Russian version ; neither in Scottish 
Gaelic, Irish Gaelic, nor Welsh has any volume of Bums's 
translations been published. I have succeeded in getting 
a few from magazines, and otherwise, rendered into each 
of these tongues, which I now place before the reader. 

Scottish Gaelic. — Not knowing Gaelic, at least to an 
extent to be of the slightest use in this task, and being 
unable to carry out the plan indicated in the preface, 
I had recourse to a valued friend of high intellectual 
endowments and scholarly attainments, equally at home 
in deep thought and lofty expression in both the English 
and Gaelic languages, to assist me in my dilemma. With 
that kindness which an old and valued friendship alone 
can inspire, he writes me : — 

"To translate Lowland Scotch into the ancient Celtic 

tongue of the Highlander is quite as difficult as to turn 

Bums's poetry into Greek or Latin. The languages are 

fundamentally distinct Highland poets and scholars have 

made repeated attempts, but with no such success as to 

justify us in saying that any of his songs or poems are 

sung or recited in any of their social gatherings. The 

translations, though interesting as scholarly exercises, have 

4S6 



INTRODUCTORY 487 

not melted into the Celtic mind and mixed with their 
native poetry. Burns io Gaelic is a David in annour. 
His movements lack freedom, grace, and vivacity. The 
mental atmosphere in which the Highland poet Hves, makes 
him into another type of man. Nature, for her own sake, is 
passionately loved by him and minutely described ; here are 
no vague and languid descriptions like Thomson's ' Seasons,' 
but vivid and glowing sketches of nature seen face to face, 
and her magic felt in intense emotions of awe and rapture 
by the poet. There is little humour in Celtic poetry, and 
very little of the typical varieties of men and women, and 
scarcely a trace of that mental and moral anatomy of the 
soul so common in modem poetry. Love songs abound 
— form and features described in full — but of the inner 
and true woman, next to nothing. In Bums, nature, which 
he loves with such boundless love, is yet subordinate to 
the human interest Every type of man and woman he 
sees ; the reckless and rollicking crew at Poosie Nansie's 
is sculptured out into individual forms by an art and power 
of character-reading altogether foreign to the Celtic Muse. 
Bums's unseen world — of ghosts and witches (including 
poor old Nicky Ben himself, whom he makes us love 
rather than fear) all belong to another mode of conception, 
vitally distinct from that of the Celts. In Bums it is 
humour, fancy, fun ; the Celtic poet would represent them 
as awful powers that rule in the Spirit world. *Tam o' 
Shanter' could hardly have been written in the Highlands. 
"The heroic element in Bums — his life-long devotion 
and enthusiasm for Bruce and Wallace and all things 
Scottish — would touch a kindred chord in the Highland 
nature : loyalty, devotion, (and courage) to a cause or a 
chief is the essence of the Celtic nature. This Celtic 
strain Bums undoubtedly possessed. Id 



488 BURNS IN SCOTTISH GAELIC 

this feeling has found its expression — fierce, abrupt, cod- 
densed, every line an appeal to the heroic in man, or 
infamy to the coward, traitor, and slave." 

The Rev. Angus Maclntyre's translation is aboat as 
faithful as it well could be. It is ingenious and eoo- 
getic, but one cannot help feeling that the loud beat <tf 
Burns's war-drum, and the marvellous ** Ca prosneach"^ 
fire that fills every line in its original Scottish verse, are 
largely lost by being turned into a smoother language. 

BROSNACHADH BHRUCE. 

[Translated by the late Rev. Angus Maclnt)rre, Kinlochspelvie, MnlL 
Extracted from Filidh nam Btann (" The Mountain Songster"). 
Glasgow, Archibald Sinclair.] 

*Threun', le Wallace^ dh* fhuiling creuchd ! 
'S le Bruce chaidh dkn' gu kr nan euchd 1 
Nis iarraibh bks am blkr nam beum, 

No buaidh gu treun 'san strlch I 

So latha 'chruais — an uair tha Ikth'ir ! 
Feuch feuchd fo'n cruaidh air cluan an kir ! 
A teachd le'n uaill gu buaireas blkir I 
A dheanamh trkillean dhlbh I 

C(5 'thig do'n strtth neo-dhileas, claon ? 
C6 'dh' ianadh uaigh ach cluan an raoin ? 
C6 'striocadh sios gu dlblidh faoin 

Air cul nan claon-fhear clith ? 

C6 'n cks an righ, a riogh'chd 'sa reachd, 
Bheir beum nan geur-lann treun an gleachd, 
Gu buaidh a'm blhr, no bJls *na bheachd, 
An gaisgeach leanadh mi. 



* War incitement. 



■ i.-jr- 



SCOTS, WffA HAE 489 

Ar truaighe 's teinn, ar n-ainneirt chruaidhy 
'Sar sliochd an sks na'n traillibh truagh' ; 
O'r cuislibh trkight' air sgkth ar sluaigh, 
Thig saorsa bhuan le sith ! 

Biodh uaibhrich sleucht' fo'r beuma bkis ; 
Fear ainneirt dh'eug 'nuair gh^illeas nkmh, 
Tha saorsa fh^in a'm beum 'ur Ikmh 

'Nis buaidh no bks 'san strlth I 



Mr. Mackechnie has attempted two very different pieces — 

QBtUie bretD'b a $eck 0' JEaut, 

and "Mary in Heaven." The first at least faik in one 
of the most characteristic lines to be found in all Burns's 
jovial songs : " We're nae that fou, But just a drappie in 
our ^V It is surely a taming down to the lowest, to 
translate these words thus : " There is nothing in our 
head that a living man need be ashamed of'M 

ORAN OIU 

[Translated by Mr. Angus Mackechnie, reprinted in Celtic Monthly 

for October, 1894.] 

Chuir Uilleam briuthas beag air d6igh 
'S chaidh t6ir air Ailein 's Rob gun dMl, 

Cha robh ri fhaotuinn 'san Roinn-£6rp', 
Triuir cho ce6Imhor ris na skir. 

Cha 'n 'eil na'r ceann de f hear mo ghrkidh. 

Na chuireadh nMr^ air duine be6, 
'S ged ghoireas coileach 's 'bhristeas \\ 

Bidh sinn a ghnkth a' traoghadh stop ! 

Tha sinn a' so a nis na'r triuir — 

An triuir is sunndaiche 'san tlr, 
'S ged 's trie bha sinn an caidreamh dluth, 

Cho trie tha siiil againn 'bhi rls. 



490 BURNS IN SCOTTISH GAELIC 

O I chl mi 'n r^ le h-adhairc liath 
Gu s^imh a' triall air feadh a' cheo ; 

Ar tkladh dhachaidh 'sea miann 
Ach ^irigh grian mu 'n sgaoil na seoid 1 

A cheud fhear 'chuireas cul ri 'chuaich, 
Bidh esan suarach leinn ri 'bhe6 ; 

Am fear is luaithe 'bhios gun tuar, 
Is esan uaill na tha mu 'n bhord ! 



JRarg in %tdi\^tx^ 

Mr. Mackechnie has succeeded in giving a translation 
of one of Burns's raost passionate wails, in language almost 
as tender as that of the original. 

MAIRI AM PARRAS. 
Angus Mackechnie. 

O ! thusa reul le d' dhealradh ciuin, 

Le 'n run bhi fkilteachadh nan tr^th ; 
Tha thus' a ris a' luaidh ds ur, 

An sgeul a dh' fhhg mi tuirseach crkit' ; 
O ! Mhkiri, 'm faileas grkidh chaidh 'dhlth ! 

C kit' a nis bheil t' ionad tkimh ? 
Am faic thu 'n trkth 's t' fhear-grkidh gun chlith .^ 

An cluinn thu osna 'chridhe sgkinnt' ? 

Am fkg an uair ud m* aigne 'chaoidh, 

A ch6mhlaich sinn *s an doire chiuin ? 
A mhealtuinn aon Ik 'n gaol nach pill, 

Aig taobh sruth binn nan ioma lub ; 
Aon ni cha sgar gu brkth o'm chridh', 

Na s61ais fhior bha 'n Ik ud saor ; 
O I t' iomhaigh grkidh, le d' laimh dhomh slnnt*, 

Cha dich'nich mi gu crich mo shaogh'l. 

Le bhorbhan binn an sruth dol seach', 

'Sa ghorm-choill dhosrach ciir' ar sgki!, 
Am beithe krd *san droighionn glas, 

Ag iadh gu pailt mu 'n t-sealladh kigh ; 



MAKY IN HEAVEN 491 

Na flCirain mhaotb a' f^s gach taobh — 
Am bkrr gach craoibh na h-e6in air ghlcus, 

Gus,— tuillidh 's trhth,— na ciar-ne6il dh'aom, 

'San tatha aobhach thriall air sg<!ith. 
Ach in' aigne duisgidh suas gach trlith 

Na seallaidh kghmhor fhuair ar sCiil, 
'Us mar tha m' aois a' teachd gach IS, 

Is ann is Ikidir' dhoibh mo rim ; 
Mo Mhkiri, 'm faileas gHkidh chaidh dhith, 

C ^it' a nis bheil t' ionad tkimh 7 
Am faic thu 'n trath 's t' fhear-griidh gun chlUb? 

An cluinn thu osna 'chridhe sgiiinnt'? 

Abrach's ' rendering of 

gjighlrtnb ^itrg 

is felicitous in expression, and retains much of the real 
pathos of Bums's own favourite song. 

MAIRI AI.UINN BHOIDHEACH, 
[From a colleciion of Gaelic songs and iranslalions, comFdled by Ibe 
lale James Munro (.lulhor of a Gaelic Grammar and other works), 
called Am Filidk, and puUished by Oliver & Boyd, Ediobuigh, 
1840,] 

A bhruachan, uilld 's a thulaichean, 

Mu chaisteal lanar-16chaidh ! 
Gur taitneach learn ur s ruth a nan, 
'S ur brulhaichean fo ne6inean ! 
Mu 'r cuairt biodh samhradh luiseanach 

A' tuineachadh 'an conaigb 1 
Oir 's ann a ghabh mi cead gu brith 

Dc m' Mhktri Muinn bhbidhich I 
Bu dosrach ciabh a' bharraich ghuirm, 
Bu chubhraidh 'n sgitheach bl?tth'or, 

'"Abrach" is a Ham dt fluiu of the Ule Rev. Dr. Maclntyre 
of Kilmonevaig, 



492 BURNS IN SCOTTISH GAELIC 

Is mi r a fhasgadh boltrach iir, 

'S mo run ruim dluth 'g a ckradh. 
Na h-uairean 6ir, air aingeal sg^ith 

Grad, tharainn chaidh 'nar s6Ias ; 
Oir b'annsa learn na beatha grkdh 

Mo Mhkiri Muinn bh6idhich 1 

Le ioma b6id 'us mknran blkth 

Mo ghrkdh do rinn mi phogadh ; 
'Sa gealltainn trie a c6mhlachadh 

Ar dealachadh bha br6nach ; 
Ach O ! mo chreach, an reodiadh-bkis 

A mheath mo ghrkdh na h-6gan 1 
Gur fuar an uaigh, an t-Mte-taimh 

Tha nis aig Mkiri bh6idhich ! 

Ge fuar 's a' bhks am beulan grkidh 

A's trie a bha mi 'pbgadh, 
Ge diiint' gu brkth a' mhlog-shuil bhlkth 

Bha daonnan ekirdeil dh6mhsa ; 
*S an uir ged tha an eridh' a' crkmh 

A thug dhomh grkdh le de6thas ; 
O I *n ertdh' mo ehuim bi'dh Bith gu brktb 

Aig Mkiri kluinn bh6idhich ! 

Bums's humour may be incapable of translation into 
Gaelic, but some of the love-songs seem naturally to have 
been cast in a Celtic mould. 



by Dugald Macphail, has tl^e music and tender feeling 
of a Gaelic love-song, and nature too in her varied 
forms is here summoned to silence, lest the dream of 
the beloved be disturbed. This song is almost perfectly 
rendered, and an enthusiastic Celt might be excused for 
preferring to sing it in Gaelic rather than in Bums*s 
best English. 



AFTON WATER 



UISGE AFTOIN. 



493 



[Translated by the late Dugald MacPhail, a native of Mull. Appeared 

originally in the Gael,} 

Siubhail s^imh feadh do ghlacan, a chaoin Aftoin nan lub, 
Agus seinneam dhuit duanag gu bhith luaidh air do chliii ; 
Ri do thaobh tha mo Mhkiri an cadal tlkth-fhoisneach^ ciuin ; 
Siubhail s^imh 's is a bruadar na gluais i 's na duisg. 

Thusa, smudain, d' am freagair ath-fhuaim chreag nan gleann f^s 
'S thusa, londuibh 's glan feadag anns na preasan fo sgkil, — 
'Adharcain chlis a chinn uaine, cum do chruaidh-sgread 'n a tkmh, 
Na cuiribh buaireas no bruaillean air suain-ihois mo ghrkidh. 

'Aftoin chubhraidh, cia dillidh na beanntaibh krd 'tha dhuit dluth, 
Le an caochanaibh meara, glan, fallain, gun ghruid ; 
Far am b\ mi gach \k *n uair tha ghrian aig kird' a buan-churs', 
Bothag bhoidheach mo Mhkiri 's mo thr^ud-^laich fo m' shuil. 

Cia taitneach do bhruachan 's do chluanagan caoin ; 

Ann do fhrith-choill cha *n ainmig an t-s6bhrach gheal-bhui' 

ghlan, mhaoth ; 
*N uair bhios braon-dhruchd an f heasgair a' dealtradh nan raon, 
Bidh mise 's Mkiri ri sugradh fo bharrach cubhraidh nan craobh. 

A chaoin Aftoin, cia soilleir do shruithean criostail, gun maim, 
'Ruith 'n an luban mu *n kiridh 'm bheil mo Mhkiri *cur suas ; 
Cia mear iad ri failceadh casan sneachd-geal mo luaidh, 
'N uair bhios i Huidrich feadh d' kthaibh 'tional bhlkthan mu d' 
bhruaich. 

Siubhail s^imh feadh do ghlacan, a chaoin Aftoin nan lub, 
'Abhainn chubhraidh gun fh6tas, cuspair m' 6rain 's mo chiuil ; 
Ri do thaobh tha mo Mhkiri an cadal tl^th-fhoisneach, ciuin, 
Siubhail s^imh, 's ds a bruadar na gluais i 's na duisg. 



©f a' the ^irte, 

by William Livingston, is well rendered, especially the 
second stanza — " I see her in the dewy flowers " has 
the flow and sentiment of Bums himself. 



I 



494 BUKNS IN SCOTTIS// GAELIC 

SINE BHOIDHEACH, 

[Translated by the late William Livingston, the Islay Baid, i8o8-i87a 
Extracted from a collection of his Gaelic songs and poems, edited 
by Rev. R. Blair, D.D., and published by Archibald Sinclair, 
Glasgow, 1882.] 

Ged 'shdideas soirbheas ds gach kird, 

'Si 's fccirr learn fh^in an iar, 
Tha'n ribhinn mhaiseach an sud be6. 

An oigh do m6 mo mhinn, 
Tha coilltean fiadhain ann a' flls, 

Uillt 's iomadh mkm 'ga *n roinn, 
Tha m' uidh le Sine a dh'oidhch' 'sa Ik, 

'S bbi Ihmh rithe gun mhoill. 

'S na lusan druchdach chi mi 'cruth, 

'Snuadh Mllidh 's urail sg^imh 
Tha guth mar cheileir e6in an kird, 

An de6than blath nan speur, 
Cha *n 'eil flur a dh'fh^sas ds an f honn 

Aig fuaran, torn, no raon, 
Na eun a ghleusas pongan ciuil, 

Nach uraich dhomh a gaoL 

Sdid thusa lar-ghaoth — tlkthmhor s^id 

Air duilleach geugan chrann 
Thoir leat am beach* le d' anail chiuin, 

Le 16d ihar stiic is gleann, 
Thoir dhomhs* an ainnir air a h-ais, 

Is cuimir glan gach uair, 
Aon aiteal eile dhi mar bha, 

A sganradh m' fhadail bhuam. 

Le comh-bhoidean naisg sinne gaol, 

Air taobh nan cnoc ud thall, 
Far 'm b'ait leinn tachairt air a ch^il*, 

*S b'i ar n-^igin sgaradh ann ; 
'S ann Duits amhkin da'n e61 gach ni 

'S da'n l^ir an crldh* gach km, 
Gur h-ann air Sine 's m6 mo riin, 

'S gur durachd fior a th' ann. 



JOHN BARLEYCORN 495 

John ^acUsconi, 

which as usual lends itself to a faithrul translation and 
proves a humorous song in any language. 

IAIN EORNA. 



Bha tri Righrean anns an eat 

Tri Righrean, m6rail Jtrd, 
Is tbug iad mionnan gu'm bu choir, 

Iain E&rna 'chur gu b^. 
Ghabb iad crann is threabh iad sios c 

Fo na sgri^ban garbb, 
Is bboidich iad le mionnan mor 

Gu'n robh Iain Ebrna marbh. 
Th^inig an t-earrach beo a steach, 

Tbuit frasan air o'n hird 
'S gbabh iad iongantaa gu m6r, 

Gu'n robh lain E6m' a' f is. 
Th&inig grianaibh teith an I-samhraidh bhliith 

Is chinn e I^idir garbh, 
Bha cheann fo arm le sleaghaibh geur, 

'S cd dh'fheudadh beud dha thairgs'. 
Thkinig am foghat Mgh a steach 

Is chinn e toracb glas, 
Thug altaibh seachi' air giorra shaogh'il, 

Is chaochail e gu grad. 
Bha dhreach ro choltach ris an aog, 

'N uair thug an aois air searg, 
A naimhdean 'thiisich 'n sin gu Idir, 

Ri cur an c^ill am fearg. 
Ghabh iad arm bha fada geur 

A ghehiT mu'n ghliin e slos 
Is cheangaii iad e air feun gu dlilth, 
Mar shamblar cuineadh Rlgh. 



496 BURNS IN SCOTTISH GAELIC 

'Sin leag iad e air a dhruim gu luath, 

Is bhuail iad e gu goirt, 
Is croch iad e 'san doinionn gharbh, 

Ga thionndadh thall 'sa bhos. 

An sin lion iad sloe bha ogluidh dorch* 

Le h-uisg* gu ruig am beul, 
'S chuir iad Iain E6ma 'sios gun dkil, 

'Se shnkmh ann na dol eug. 

Leag iad e air urlar cniaidh 
'S b'e sud an truaigh bu mh6, 

'S luaisg iad e a slos 'sa suas, 
Oir b'fhuath le6 e bhi be6. 

Le laisir loisgich smior a chnkmh 
Air uachdar kith gu*n d' loisg, 

'S bha muillear an-iochdmhor thar chkich, 
Rinn smal dheth le dk chloich. 

Fior fhuil a chridhe ghabh na se6id, 
'Ga h-61 m'an cuairt's m*an cuairt. 

Is mar bu mh6 a rinn iad 61 
Chaidh cainnt am be6il an cruadh's. 

Iain E6ma tha na laoch ro dhkn', 
Neo-sgkthach Ikn do dh'uails', 

Ma dh'fheuchas tu ach fhuil le d* bhlas, 
Cha ghealtair thu 'san uair. 

Bheir e air duine truagh gun sgoinn, 
A bhi gu h-aoibhneach gasd', 

'S bheir e air bantrach a* bhr6in, 
'Bhi seinn gu ce61mhor ait 

Bithidh sliochd an Alba shean gu buan, 
Aig Iain E6ma nan cruaidh ghleachd^ 

Is olaidh sinn mu'n cuairt a shlkint', 
Is cuach an laimh gach neach. 



WHISTLE AND I'LL COME TO YOU, MY LAD 497 

SBhielle anl) J'U came to son, inj{ |pati. 

DEAN FEAD US THIG MISE. 

[Transloted by "Fionn," in his CtUie Gariami.'i 

Dean Tead 'us thig mise ga d' ionnsaidh a luaidh, 

Dean fead 'us th^ mise ga d' ionnsaidh a luaidh, 

Biodh m' athair 's mo mh^thair 's na c&irdean an gruaim. 

Dean fead 'us thig mise ga d' ionnsaidb a luaidh. 

A'tamiing ga m' fhaicinn bi faicilleach ciuin, 

'S na tig 'n u.iir a chi thu a chachleith dfiint', 

Gabh nios am frith-rath'd, 'us ceil air gach s&il 

Gu bheil thu a' tighinn ga m' fbaicinn-se 'riiin. 

Aig Kill, no 's a' chlachan ged 'chi thu mi ann, — 

Na seas ruim a bhruidhinn, 's na crom rium do cheann, 

Thoir sLiil thar do ghualainn 's each seacbad le deann 

'S na gabh ort gu'n d'aithnich thu idle co bh'ann. 

Gu'r d6cha leat mise, slor kicheadh gu dlutb 

'S ma's fheudar e, labhair gu tkireil mu m' gbniiis, 

Ach feuch ri t^ eile nach tog tbu do shEiil, — 

Air eagal 's gu'n t&laidb i thusa a thin. 



^ulb ICanfl §jine 

of course has been put into Gaelic, and though ably and 
honestly done, it is doubtful if any Highlander would 
like to sing it in his native tongue. The genial good- 
fellowship and far-off memories of youth do not come 
to us with the wann flow of the original "Auld Lang 
Syne." 

A'A LAITHEAN A THREIG. 
[Tranjialed by "Kionn" (Henty Whyle, Glasgow), and eiiracted from 
bis CtUic Garland, published by Archibald Sinclair, GiasEOW, i8Sr. 
(Second edition, 1S85)} 

'N coir seann Iuchd-e61ais 'chur air chiil, 
'S gun suil a thoirt na'n d^lgh, 



498- BURNS IN SCOTTISH GAELIC 

Air dhi-chuimhn' am bi cuspair g^r^idh 
Na gl6ir nan Ikith'n a thr^ig ? 

Seisd. 

Air sgkth nan Ikith'n a dh'aom, a ghr^dh. 
Air sgkth nan lkith*n a dh'aom ; 

Le bkigh g^'n 61 sinn cuach fo strkc 
Air sgkth nan lkith*n a dh'aom. 

Le ch^ile ruith sinn feadh nam bruach, 

'Us bhuain sinn bl^th nan raon, 
Air allaban thriall sinn ceum no dhk, 

'O km nan Udth'n a dh'aom. 

Le ch^il' o mhaduinn mhoich gu oidhch' 

'S na h-uillt n plubairt fhaoin, 
Ach sgarradh sinn le tonnan krd 

'O km nan Ikith'n a dh'aom. 

So dhuit mo Ikmh a charaid kigb, 

'Us sin do Ikmh gu faoil, 
'S le bkigh gu'n 61 sinn cuach fo strkc. 

Air sgkth nan Ikith'n a dh'aonu 



:^!?9ee 



IRISH GAELIC. 



I HAVE succeeded in discovering only two songs trans- 
lated into this romantic old tongue, the first being 

Slcot0, toha hat. 

The stirring music and martial ring of this song are not 
impaired by the change of language, whilst some expres- 
sions show the power and the reflection of nature which 
characterize this ancient tongue. 

" F^ach air dhbhtichan aghaidh an chath '' ^ 
is the almost Ossianic rendering of 

" See the front of battle lour " ; 
and 

" Luain Alban liom go luath " • 

give, in the same strain, 

" Caledonians, on wi* me 1 " 

These Celtic touches appear all through the piece, and 

add much to its charm. 

SCOIT A CHATH. 

Scoit a chath faoi Uallas treun, 
Scoit a threor' an Bhnisai d^an, 
Fdilte romhaibh chum casgairt fein, 
No chum lannair' bhuaidh' ! 



^ See the black iajct of battle. 
' Champions of Scotland, swiftly with me. 

499 



500 BURNS IN IRISH GAELIC 

Nois an uair 's anois an Xi. ! 

F^ach air dhubhchan aghaidh an chath' ! 

Feuch cbumhaehd Eadbhaird ann san bh-^th 

Slabhraidhe 's daoirse chxnadh ! 

Cia a bheidhear 'nn a bhrath' doir t^ir ? 
Cia ann uaimh fann-chladhair air Idr ? 
Cia 'nn a sgldbhaidh f huar gan ndir' ? 
Bhrath' doir uainn le uadh ! 

Cia 'r son Alban thaimeoghas lann 
Na saoirse diP go luthmhor teann ? 
Le saoirse seas' no luidhe 'sa n-dreann 
Luain Alban liom go luath ! 

Dar dubh-amhghair ann-bhriog trom I 
Dar do chlann faoi g^ar-chuing crom ! 
Beidh ar bh-f^itheach' falamh« lorn. 
No beidhid saor gan bhr^ag. 

Fuibh air lir an sladth6ir sfn' ! 
'S tfordn shfor gach ndmhad faon ! 
Ta saoirse ann gach buille dian ! 

Libh ! chum buaidh no ^ag' 1 

The second song is 

<^ttlb Ipaug ^^Dtte. 

In some lines the translator is less happy than with his 
rendering of " Scots, wha hae," such as 

" Bhiodh mise a 's tu 'baint n6ininidh 
'S aig imirt d' oidhch' 's dhe to " ^ 

which is rather poor for 

" We twa hae run about the braes, 
And pu'd the gowans fine." 

Such lines are exceptional, for, as a whole, the sone is 
reproduced with much feeling and pathos. 



^ You and I were accustomed to plucking daisies 
And playing from morning till night. 



AVLD LANG SYNE 



AN T-AN FAD O. 



Ar choir sean-cMirde 'leigean uainn 
Gan cuimhniughadh 'rra go deo ? 
Ar choir sean-chiirde 'leigean uainn, 
'S an t-am bb^ ann fad 6 1 

Air son an am' fad 6, a ghrddh, 

Air son an am' fad 6 ; 
A' s olfamiud deoch mhuinteardha 
Air son an am' fad 6. 

Bfaiodh mise a' s tu 'baint noininidh 
'S aig imirt d' oidbch' 's dhe 16, 

Acht is iomdha cos a shiubhiamar 
6 d' imthigh an t-am fad 6. 

Air son an am' fad 6, a ghrddh, etc 

O d' ^irigheadb grian bhidhmir araon 

Ag rith san smth le gleo, 
Acbt bh^ tonna treuna eadrainn 

O d' imthigh 'n t-am fad 6. 

A 's so mo limb dhuit, chara dhil, 
A 's labhair dham Mmh go beo, 

A 's 6lamuir aon gbloine mhaith 
Air son an am' fad 6. 
Air son, etc. 



WELSH. 

It cannot be pleasing to Scottish sensibilities, nor is 
it very creditable to the intellectual activity of Wales, 
that I experienced so much difficulty in procuring any 
translations of Burns in the Welsh language. The best 
Welsh booksellers were under the impression such existed, 
but could not obtain them. Private friends were long 
equally unsuccessful, but at last I obtained a version of 
"The Cottar's Saturday Night" in the periodical, Cymrt^r 
Plant} I also got " A Man's a Man for a' that," " Scots, 
wha hae," "To a Mountain Daisy," "Highland Mary" 
and an adaptation of "Tam o' Shanter," from a small 
volume entitled Tlysau Barddoniaeth Seisnig tuedi eu 
Cyfieithu Vr Gymraeg^ published by William Spurrell, 
Carmarthen, 1853. The editor introduces 

by the following information: "Bums is the chief poet 
of Scotland, and this is one of his best pieces. It was 
translated by Robert Owen, a poet who died in the 
flower of his days, but he did not die before writing 



» The Children's Wales. 

*Gems of English verse with translations into Welsh. 

502 



THE COTTAR'S SATURDAY NIGHT 503 

some immortal songs. I am very grateful to the kind 
sister who sent this poem from among Robert Owen's 
papers to Cymrtir Plants ^ 

I can well believe that Robert Owen was a poet, for 
it would require not only a true poet, but one possessing 
a perfect insight into and sympathy with the spirit and 
meaning of this great work of Bums to succeed with a 
translation as he has done. There is scarcely a defect 
to weaken this production; there is scarcely a beauty or 
pathetic touch that is not reproduced. It is rendered 
with almost literal fidelity, though here and there Mr. 
Owen has slightly altered the details in some of the 
pictures, but only when the Scottish expressions are 
almost untranslatable. The departure is in the well-known 
description of the cottar's home-coming — 

"At length his lonely cot appears in view, 

Beneath the shelter of an aged tree ; 
Th' expectant wee things, toddlin', stacher through 

To meet their Dad, wi' flichterin' noise an' glee. 
His wee bit ingle, blinkin' bonilie, 

His clean hearth-stane, his thrifty wifie's smile, 
The lisping infant prattling on his knee, 

Does a' his weary carking cares beguile. 
An' makes him quite forget his labour an' his toil" 

He renders this — 

"Ond dacw'i fwth unigaidd draw, dan gysgod 
Hen goeden frigog ; yno'i blantos glin 
Ymlwybrant am y cyntaf i'w gyfarfod, 
Yn lion eu dwndwr megys adar niin. 

* Prif fardd yr Alban yw Bums, a dyma un o'i ddamau 
goreu. Robert Owen a'i cyfieithodd ; bardd fu farw ym mlodau 
ei ddyddiau oedd ef, ond ni fu farw cyn canu rhai damau 
anfarwol. Yr wyf yn ddiolchgar iawn i'r chwaer garedig an- 
fonodd hwn o fysg papurau Robert Owen i Cymn^r Plant, 



504 BURNS IN WELSH 

Yr aelwyd ddel, ei gadair ger y tSn, 

Y baban ar ei lin, a darf yn l&n 
£i flin ofalon ymaith, nes y gad 

Dros gof ei ludded oil, yn llawnder ei fwynhad." * 

It is no disparagement to Mr. Owen to say that this 
picture, pleasingly drawn as it is, is far inferior to that 
in the original; but the other pictures in the poem, 
especially those of the father's admonition, the introduc- 
tion of Jenny's sweetheart, and, above all, the scene of 
the family worship, are given with a fidelity, a power, 
and a beauty which leave nothing to be desired. In one 
line Mr. Owen shows his nationality rather curiously. As 
is known, it b the custom in Wales to count the "year 
current" in giving the age of a man or the date of an 
incident A man between twenty-five and twenty-six is 
said to be twenty-six. And so, 

" How 'twas a towmond auld, sM lint was i' the bell," 
is rendered in Welsh phraseology, 

" Dwy flwydd pan y bo*r llin yn ei lawn fiodau eto." * 
I now give it in full. 

NOS SADWRN Y GWEITHIWR, 
Robert Owen. 

Aiken, fy nghyfaill anwyl a pharchedig, 
Nid un bardd cyflog s/n dy warog di ; 



^But yonder is his lonely cot under the shade 

Of an old branching tree ; there his lovely little children 

Make their way to meet him for the first, 

With joyful chirpings, just like little birds. 

The clean, bright hearth, his chair near the (ire, 

The baby on his lap, drives quite away 

His anxious cares, till he forgets 
. AH his £sitigue in the fulness of his joy. 
^ Tkvo years when the flax will again be in full bloom. 



THE COTTAtrS SATURDAY NIGHT j 

Elwa ar g3.n, ni fyii fy ngonest ddirmyg, 
A cMod fy ngh&r yw'm hoflaf wobr i. 

Mewn syml gred y canai'n awr i ti 
Am feib dinodedd yn cu hisel ryw. 

Am arwedd bur, a. grym teimladau cu — 
Am beth fai'm cyfaill pe mewn bxvth yn byw, 

Mwy dedwydd yno er o barch y byd a'i glyw. 

Tachwedd a'i oerwynt yn brochniddfan sydd, 
A'r dydd byrbaus sydd bellach ar ddibennu, 

Y wedd o'r cwysau Ucidiog adrc drydd, 
A'r brain yn heidiau duol ^nt i'w gwclyi 

Y llesg fythynwr ddychwel at ei deulu — 
Ei ludded wythnos heno gwblha — 

Cynnull ei gaib, a'i raw, a'i gribyn chwynnu, 

A thros y rhos tua'i gartre'n flin yr a 
Gan feddwl am y saib a'r llonydd yno ga. 

Ond dacw*! fwlh unigaidd draw, dan gysgod 

Hen goeden frigog ; yno'i blantos gl^n 
Vmlwybranl am y cyntaf i'w gyfarfod, 

Yn lion eu dwndwr megys adar m&n. 
Yr aelwyd ddel, ei gadair ger y tin, 

Y baban ar ei iin, a darf yn lin 
Ei flin ofalon ymaitb, nes y gad 

Dros gof ei ludded oil, yn llawnder ei fwynhad. 

Toe daw'r plant hynal mewn, sy'n awr ar gyflog 

Mewn ffermydd ogjlch — un yn bwsmon sydd, 
Arall yn fugail, arall, ffel a bywiog. 

Red ar negesau'n chwym i'r dre bob dydd, 
A'u hynaf anwes Jenny deg ei grudd, 

Yn miodau'i bri, a'i threm gan serch yn fyw, 
Ddwg ei gown Sul i'w ddangos, neu a rydd 

I'w mam ei dygn ennill mis, os yw 
Ei rhiaint anwyl trwy galedi'n methu byw. 

Yn frawd a chwaer llongalon y cydgwrddir, 
A mawr yr holi am eu ffawd bob un ; 

Dont bawb a'u newydd allan, ac mor ddifyr, 
Nad ystyr neb ehedfa'r awr ddihun. 



506 BURNS IN WELSH 

Hoff sylla'u rhiaint arnynt, ac ar lun 
£u byw obeithion yn eu Uygaid dedwydd ; 

Y fam a'i siswrn chwim a*i nodwydd, sy^n 
Gwneyd i hen ddillad edrych bron fel newydd; 

Y tad eneinia'r oil, S. chyngor dwys neu rybydd. 

Rhybuddia hwynt i wneyd beth bynnag bair 

Meistr neu feistres iddynt, ac heb duchan ; 
Ac edrych at eu gorchwyl yn ddiwair, 

Ac, er o'r golwg, beidio byth ystelcian, — 
"Ac O ! gofalwch ofni Duw ym mhobman, 

A gwnewch yn iawn eich dyled nos a dydd, 
Rhag cyfeiliomi*ch traed yn Uwybrau Satan ; 

Ond deisyf ganddo, pwyll a nodded rydd— 
Ni ddychwel neb yn wag a'i ceisia Ef trwy ffydd." 

Ond ust ! mae rhywun wrth y drws — da g^yr 
Jenny pwy yw — llanc o gymydog iddi 

Ddaeth tros y waen ar neges braidd yn hwyr, 
Ac o gymwynas eilw'n awr Tw chyrchu. 

Y fam gyfrwysgall wel yn llygaid Jenny 
Din serch yn perlio, ac yn twymo'i g^rudd. 

Gofynna'i enw, a chalon ddw>'S a difri — 

Ofna'r fun ateb, ond anadla'n rhydd 
Pan glywa'i mham nad yw lane ofer a difudd. 

Dwg Jenny ef i mewn, S. chroesaw mwyngu ; 

Llathraidd y llanc, d^n fryd y fam heb air. 
(Mor Ion yw'r eneth nad oes neb yn gwgu !) 

Ymgomia'r tad am wartheg, meirch, a gwair ; 
Gorlifa gan lawenydd galon aur 

Y bachgen, fel nas gwyr i ble y try, 
Ond gw^l y fam o'r goreu beth a bair 

£i fod mor swil a sobr ; boddlawn hi 
Wrth feddwl fod ei merch fel eraill yn cael bri. 

O ddedwydd serch, man caffer serch fel hwn 1 
O wynfyd calon ! mwyniant heb ei ail ! 

'Nol troedio'n hir gylch einioes dan fy mhwn, 
Myn Profiad imi ddatgan — "Os oes cael 



THE COTTAies SATURDAY NIGHT 



507 



Un drachi o fwynder Gnrynfa is yr haul, 

Un llynuid byw, yn nhristyd anial dir, 
Ceir hyn pan fo p^r ieuanc, ael wrth ael, 

Yn gwylaidd sibrwd ncrth eu cariad gwir. 
Is blodau'r ddraenen wen, wna'n bfir yr hwyr-wynt !r.' 

A oes ar ddelw dyn, i chalon dyn, 

Adyn ddyhiryn, mor ddi-wir, mor greulon 
All a'i ddichellion hudoledig cas, i'w wjn, 

Fradychu diniweidrwydd Jenny dirioa ? 
Melldith byth ar ei stryw a'i anwir Iwon ! 

Ai nid oes rhinwedd na chydwybod mwy ? 
Na dim tusluri, bwyntia'r ferch yng nghalon 

Ei mham a'i ihad — ddynoetha wedyn glwy 

Y f&n ddifwynivyd, a'u dyryswch enaid hwy ? 

Ond wele'r swper ar y bwrdd yn gweitied, — 

Yr iachus uwd, pen ymburth Alban in, 
A llaeth y frithen sydd tuhwnt i'r pared 

Yn diddos gnoi ei chil; y rhian fyn 
Ddwyn a) Ian heno'i dam o gosyn phn 

O barcb i'r llanc ; a mawr ei chymell amo, 
A mawr ei ganmol yntau j nes, ar hyn, 

Nas gall hi dewi oed y cosyn wnho,— 
' Dwy flwydd pan y bo'r Uin yn ei lawn flodau eto.' 

Eu swper Uon ar ben, yn ddwys eu gweddau 

Eisteddant: ol! yn gylcfa oddeutu'r tin 1 

V tad, 4g urddas patriarch, dry ddalennau 
Y BeibI mawr, hoff lyfr ei dad o'i flaen ; 

Yn wylaidd dod o'r neilltu'i fonet wlin ; 

Llwm gwallt ei arlais mwy, a llwyd 1 gyd ; 
O'r odlau gen id gynt yn Seion lin, 

Dewisa ran yn bwyllog, ac, a^i fryd 
Yn llawn difrifwch, medd, — "Addolwn Dduw ynghyd." 

Eu syml fowl a gathlant, dad a phlant, 
A'u calon gweiriant uwcb y byd a'i ferw ; 

Gall mai Dundee ymddyrcha'n wyllt ei thant, 

Neu'r ddwys gwynfannus Martyrs, gwerth yr enw, 



5o8 BURNS IN WELSH 

Neu Elgin bortha fflam y nefol ulw, — 

Y fwynaf o fawl-odlau Alban dir, 

Ger hon, chwibganau'r Eidal ynt ond salw, 

Ond goglais clust, nid llesmair calon wir, — 
Ni chynghaneddant hwy d chlod ein Crewr pur. 

Y tad-offeiriad draetha'r Gair dilyth, — 

Fel ydoedd Abram gdr ei Arglwydd rhad ; 
NeuV archodd Moses ryfel brwd dros byth 

Yn erbyn Amalec a*i greulawn had ; 
Neu fel bu'r bardd brenhinol, am ei frad, 

Yn ochain is dymodiau dial Duw ; 
Neu g^n deimladwy Job, a'i waew-ndd ; 

Neu ddn seraffaidd Esay derch, neu ryw 
Lin broffwyd arall dantia'r sanctaidd delyn wiw. 

Ef all mai cyfrol Crist yw'r testun mawr, — 

Fel collwyd, tros yr euog, waed y gwirion ; 
Fel nad oedd yma le i roi' ben i lawr, 

Gan Un fawrygid Ail gan lu*r nefolion ; 
Ffyniant ei weision gynt, a*r doeth hyfforddion 

Yrasant hwy i lawer gwlad a thref ; 
Neu fel y gwelodd alltud Patmos aflon 

Gryf angel yn yr haul, a chlywodd lef 
Uwch bryntni Babilon fawr, yn datgan barn y ncf. 

flaen yr orsedd wen ar ddeulin, yna 

Y sant, y gwr, a'r tad mewn gweddi ddaw ; 
Gobaith, ar orfoleddus edyn, wela 

Ddydd pan gant oil gydgwrddyd etc draw, 
Yn llewyrch gwyneb Duw, heb mwyach fraw, 

Nac ochain mwy, na cholli'r chwerw ddeigryn ; 
Ond yno'n gwmni, hotfach fyth rhagllaw, 

Tw Crewr mawr gydganu eu moliant dillyn, 
Tra Amser yn ei rod yn troelli mwy heb derfyn. 

Wrth ochor hyn, mor salw balchder cred, 
A'i chelfydd rwysg i gyd. He dengj's dynion 

1 r lliaws cynulleidfa, ar lawn led. 

Bob cain ddyhewyd ond dyhewyd calon ; 



THE COTTAIfS SATURDAY NIGHT 50 

Duw yn ei lid a edy eu rhiib ddefodion, 
£u canu coeg, a'u Kwisgoedd hyd y llawr ; 

Ond odid fawr y clyw— a'i fryd '"O'' foddlon 1— 
Meum bwthyn kith yr enaid lawer awr, 

A'u henwau gwael yn Llyfr y Bywyd ddod i lawr. 

Pawb yna'u llwybr adref a gymerant, 
A'r bwtbiaid bycbain &nt i'w gordwys le \ 

Y rhiant-b^r eu dtrgel warog dalant, 

A chynnes iawn eu cais am iddo £', 
S/n gosceg beonydd ryth y gigfran gre"; 

S/n barddu eirian wisg y lili wen, — 
Yn ol fel gw@l E'n oreu, ddarbod lie 

A lluniaedi iddynt hwy a'u plant dis£n, 
Ac yn eu mynwes bych trwy ras deyrnasu'n ben. 

Mawredd hen Alban dardda o'r ffynhonnau hyn, 

A serch ei pblant, a phaich yr estron ati, — 
"Dyn gonest yw gorchesiwaitb Duw ei bun ;" 

Ond brenin all & chwythiad greu arglwyddi. 
Yn llwybr Rhinwedd dlos diau y gedy 

Y Bwthyn draw o'i ol y Palas gwiw, 
Rhwysg pwt o arglwydd—beth ond baich i'w boeni? 

Baich %k\ yn ami warthyn dynolryw, 
Ystig a Uwyr ei ddysg ymhob ufTernawl 'stryw. 

O Alban anwyl, bro fy ngenedigaeih, 

Fy nhaeraf gais i Dduw sydd erot ti ; 
Bendithier fyth dy lewion feibion amaeth 

Ag iechyd, faeddwch, a boddlondeb cu ; 
A'u syml fuchedd, O gwarchoder hi 

Rbag haint andwyol gioddest,— yna aed 
Yn deilchion mSn bob coron, urdd, a bri ; 

Ymgyfyd uniawn werin eto'n g^d, 
A saif fel mur o d^n o gylch eu bynys ^d. 

Tydi arllwysaist gyni y gwladgar lif 
Trwy eon galon Wallace, pan gyhyd 

Y baidd yn deg wrth ymladd gormes hyf, 
Neu &rio'n deg ei nesaf gyfran ddrud 



5 1 o BURNS IN WELSH 

fDuw agos y gwladgarwr Di bob pryd, — 
£i fTrynd, ei nawdd, ei annpg, ei foddh&dX 

Rhag Alban byth, O, byth na chilia'th ftyd, 
Ond cyfod fwy y gwladgar iVr diwdd, 

A'r gwladgar fardd i fod, — addum a grym eu gwlad. 



has not been translated, but has been ''adapted" bjr 
Talhaiam, in his day one of the chief literaiy men in 
Wales. It is to be regretted that it appears as a transla- 
tion, as no Welsh reader unacquainted with* the Scottish 
text can realize from it the spirit and power of Butds's 
work. This adaptation is entitled — 

"Concerning Ghosts; 
Or, Hugh the Big Weaver, and Little John Evan." 

The "freeness" of the title indicates the style of the 
work. Tam is the big weaver Hugh. Kate is changed 
to Jane, Ayr to Denbigh in North Wales, and numerous 
Welsh towns and places are introduced instead of the 
environs of Ayr. A long, diffuse production, spun out 
into eighteen lines, takes the place of the first twelve 
lines of the original. There is not the least attempt 
at translation, as may be seen by the following two 
examples : 

" When chapman billies leave the street. 
And drouthy neebors neebors meet, 
As market-days are wearing late, 
An' folk begin to tak the gate"; 

for this we have 

'^ Pan fydd cymhedrol, ddoniol ddynion, 
Yn teithio tuag adre'n hylon ; 



TAM a SHANTER 

A'r rhai a hoffant felus dwrw, 
Yn troi i'r dafam i gael cwrw.*'* 



S" 



Still worse is the following — 

"This truth fand honest Tarn o' Shanter 
As he frae Ayr ae night did canter, 
(Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a town surpasses 
For honest men and bonnie lasses)," 

when wearily drawn out into 

" Cidd Huw hyll brawf o'r gwir a ddywedais, 
Wrth deithio adre' yn ddifalais 
O fiarchnad Dinbych, yn bur feddw, 
'Rol gwario'i arian am hen gwrw : 
Nodedig yw hen Ddinbych dirion, 
Am ferched heirdd, a dynion dewrion."' 

These two examples are sufficient to show the treatment 
to which poor "Tam o' Shanter" has been subjected by 
this translator — with change of name, stale beer, etc. : 
neither Nannie nor Kate used him half so ill ; and I add 
the piece not as a translation, but as a curiosity, and 
as an instance of the way in which even an able man 
may be tempted to make "heaven's gate a lock to his 
own key." 



^When temperate and jovial men 
Travel homeward in high glee, 
And those who are fond of pleasant fiiss 
Turn to the tavern to get ale. 

' Hugh had an ugly proof of the truth I told 
Whilst journeying home without malice 
From Denbigh market, rather drunken. 
After spending his money for stale beer: 
Noted is kind old Denbigh 
For beautiful daughters and brave men. 



512 BURNS IiV WELSH 



SON AM YSBRYDION ; 
NEU HUW'R GWEHYDD MAWR, A SION I FAN BACH 

"TALHAIARN." 

Pan fydd cymhedrol, ddoniol ddynion, 
Yn teithio tuag adre'n hylon ; 
A'r rhai a hofTant felus dwrw, 
Yn troi i'r dafarn i gael cwrw, 
Ar ol bod yn y ffair neu farchnad, 
Yn gwerthu ^d, neu farch, neu ddafad ; 

Y byddwn hefo'r pot a'r bibell, 
Os bydd arian yn y llogell, 
Yn yfed, rafio, ac yn canu, 
Mewn da fwriad yn difyru ; 

Heb feddwl fawr am gychwyn adre*, 
Heb hidio syrthio, rholio'n rhywle ; 
Heb feddwl am ein gwragedd druain, 

Y rhai a faent yn uchel ochain 
Neu 'fallai'n sori, drwynau surion, 
Gan ddwfn-fyfyrio gwers i'r dynion ; 
Neu 'fallai'n cuchio yn anghynes, 
With borthi Hid i'w gadw'n gynhes. 

C&dd Huw hyll brawf o'r gwir a ddywedais 
Wrth deitbio adre' yn ddifalais 
O farchnad Dinbych, yn bur feddw, 
'Rol gwario'i arian am hen gwrw : 
Nodedig yw hen Ddinbych dirion, 
Am ferched heirdd, a dynion dewrion. 

O Huw, ped fuasit mor synhwyrol, 
A chym'ryd cynghor doeth, rhagorol, 
Gan Siin dy wraig, yr hon fai'n arfer 
Dy alw'n rafiwr, yfwr ofer, 
Na fedrit pe caet bunt yn wobr, 
Ddim dyfod adre o'r ffair yn sobr ; 
Na fedrit fyn'd i felin Dafydd, 
Heb feddw i gyda*r hen felinydd ; 
Na fedrit fyn'd a'r march i'r efel, 
A phrin ei rwymo o dan yr hofel, 



TAM a SHANTER 

Na byddai'r gof a thithau'n meddwi 
Yn cbwils, heb feddw] am bedoli ; 
Ac y'Dgbwmpeini yfwyr llawen, 
O Lanelwy i Lyn Alwen, 
Hefo pob lelo y byddi'n lolian, 
Tra per/r pres, yr aur, a'r arian. 

Prophwydai Siftn mewn ysbryd blio, 
" Os yfi gwrw, gin, a gwin, 
Ti gei dy losgi, neu dy lusgo, 
Can dylwyth teg ; cci dy chwirlio, 
Drwy'r drain, a'r drysni, a'r miiiri, 
Drw/r ffosydd, gwrychoedd, llynocdd, llwyni : 
Er it) gropian, cei dy gripio, 
A'th wneud yn wylltgi ac yn wallgo'; 
Neu boddi wnei mewn Ilif rhyfertbwy, 
Yn Aled neu yn afon Elwy." 

O ferched mwynion, tirion, taer, 
Cyngborion mam, neu wralg, neu chwaer, 
Ni chint wrandawiad gan y dynion ; 
A gresyn fod y gwfr mor groesion 
A myn'd i feddwi yn anynad, 
Yn He mud-wrando cerydd cariad. 

Decbreuwn : — Ar rhyw noswaith marcbnad, 
Pan oedd y nos heb scr na lleuad, 
'Roedd Huw yn yfed yn ei afiaeth, 
Ac yn dilyn gwag hudoliaeth, 
Ac yn potio ar y pentan, 
A Uon'd ei bwrs o aur ac arian ; 
Ac wrth ei glun yr oedd SiOn Ifan, 
Yn pyncio, dwcio, ac yn cleclan. 
'Roedd Huw yn cam Sidn yn Trawdol, 
A meddwi byddynt yn wytbnosol. 
Y chwart yn llawn o gwrw goreu, 
A'r tin yn rhuo yn y simneu j 
Pa beth mor hyfryd dan y wybren, 
A tbf , a tMn, a theulu llawen ? 
'Roedd Huw a Si&n yn nofio'n ofer, 
Yn y blasus fclus bleser ; 
Yn dawnsio, canu, ac yn rafio — 



SM 



BURNS IN WELSH 

"Ni hidiwn, de'wch ag un chwart eto" — 

'Roedd Sidn yn traethu chwedlau digri', 

Yn fedrus, gampus i'r cwmpeini ; 

A g^ y t^ yn heini' hynod, 

Yn chwerthin nes ysgwyd bol a g^asgod. 

Y storm chwibiana o'r tu allan, 

A'r gwyntoedd g^wylltion yn goroian : 

Ond Huw a Si6n ni hidiant lychyn. 

Am stormydd certh, nac chwaith am gychwyn. 

Gofalon dylion byd helbulus, 
Wrth wel'd y ddeuddyn hyn mor hapus, 
Ymfoddynt yn y cwrw a*r gwirod, 
Ar ol ymwylltio wrth eu malldod. 
Yr oriau hedynt gyda phleser, 
Fel y gwenyn gyda'u trysor : 
MSI yw maswedd am yr amser, 
Fel y gwiria gw^r pob goror. 
Geill brenin fod yn anrhydeddus, 
Ond yr oedd Huw yn orfoleddus ; 
Yn llawn o afiaeth am yr enyd — 
Tu hwnt i hoU ofidion bywyd. 
Pleserau Jnt fel blodau ceinber, 

Mwynhewch hwynt — gwywo wnant ar fyrder 

Neu fel yr eira ar yr afon, 

Am fynyd yn wyn — 
Yna ciliant fel cysgodion, 

Cymylau ar fryn — 
Fel y gogleddawl oleuadon, 

Y gwibiant : 
Cyn ichwi braidd droi eich golygon, 

Diflanant ; 
Neu fel lion liwiau'r enfys loew-lin, 
Yn ymddiflanu y*nghanol dryghin. 
Er hyn nid dyn a lywodraetha 
Ymdreigliad amser yn ei yrfa, 
Na llanw'r mor, na g^wynt y mynydd, 
Na'r awel yn y tawel dywydd. 
Pan ddaeth yr awr i gychwyn adre, 
Yr awr s/n rhanu'r nos a*r bore', 



TAM SHANTER 

Y drytnaf awr o dramwjf oriau, 
I ymlwybra hyd hyll Iwybrau, 
Rbocd Huw ar gefn ei gaseg wineu, 
Ocb t gwell oedd cornel glyd y simneu, 
Na myn'd ar gefn ei farch yn flbrchog, 
Ar nos mor dywell a dr^hinog. 

Corwyntoedd niant yn yr awyr, 
Gwlawt^ydd ^ecJant hyd y gwydr, 
A chyflym foUtau mellt ymwylltiant, 
Taranau trymion a dramwyant ; 
Milain y rbwygant y cymylau, 
Yn weis cetbrin eu y^ythrau : 
Gallasai blentyn wybod heno, 
Fod dieifl yn gweithio yn ddiflino. 

Ond Huw ar gefn ei gaseg goeswen, 
Ni bu ei gwell o Gaer i Gorwen, 
Oedd yn gwyllt yru, a charlamu, 
Yn cicio, cbwipio, a spardynu, 
Heb hidio'r gwlaw, na'r baw, na'r rhwbal, 
Yn hyf heb ofn — mewn nwyf, heb ofal ; 
Yn canu "Marged mwyn ferch Ifan," 
"At hyd y nos," a "Hyd y wlithan;" 
Ac weithiau'n edrych odd ei ddeutu, 
Rhag ofn i 'sbrydion ei ferthyru ; 
Fel hyn carlamai drwy Ian Henllan, 
Ac oddiyno i gefn Beran ; 
Ac beibio gallt y Boli lol, 
Lie Ufiodd Ned yr Eli'r drol ; 
Crocsodd r nant He boddodd Sicrlyn, 

Y meddw mawr — y meddwaf feddwyn ; 
Ac heibio'T ceubren ellyll, erch, 

Lie treisitryd tirion, dyner ferch ; 
A thros yr rhos, lie caid, O resyn \ 
Gwynwridog gorfT mwrdredig blentyn ; 
A thrwy Lanefydd yn ei nwyfiant, 
Ac at Bias Hari, heb un soriant ; 
I lawr i'r allt yr ii yn walllgo'. 
A Darby liwus yn cbwirho, 
A lluchio'r cerre i bob cyrau — 
Taniant yn cbwym o dan ei tJiamau : 



5l6 BURNS /// WELSH 

Wei, bravo Darby bach ! buaned 
Ar hynt yr 61 dros bont yx Aled. 

Ac afon Alen oedd yn llifo, 
Yn wyn-bost allan dan bistyllio ; 
Ac yn dyrwygo dros y creigiau, 
Nes siglo'r bont a'i dwfn bentanau. 
Y stormydd 'sgrechiant yn y coedydd, 
A milain fellt yn llamu'r moelydd, 
A chanwaith uwch oedd twrMr'r daran, 
Na'r corwyntoedd yn gorchwiban. 
A Huw yn gym nerth y camau, 
Nes myn'd i'r man lie gynt bum inau , 
Rhyw erchyll nant anynad anial. 
Lie bydd tylwythi sosi'n sisial ; 
A'r ladi wen, 
Heb yr un pen, 
Yn neidio fel wiwair o bren i bren • 
A chores o wrach, 
Yn nyddu troell bach, 
A'r edaif cyn ffyrfed a llinyn sach : 
Un arall fel cath, 
Ni welid ei bath 
Am neidio, hi neidiai driugain Uath ? 
Ar noswaith ddu, 
Y byddynt yn hy*, 
Yn ddychryn i bawb ddaent allan o d^ : 
Mi glywais gan fil, 
Rhyw hanes am hil 
Tylwythion a 'sbrydion sy'n Nant-y-chwil. 
Beth welai Huw dan ledu ei geg« 
Ond haid o fin dylwythion teg ; 
A witches fil yn dawnsio red^ 
Hefo ysbrydion Nant-y-chwil ; 
O dan eu rapiau, tin yn gwibio, 
A Jack y Lentym yn helyntio; 
A dieifl yn chwerthin rhwng y coedydd, 
AV coed yn dadsain eu llawenydd, 
A thanbaid din yn Uenwi'r llwyni, 
A'r gwrych yn enyn a gwreichioni. 



TAM 0' SMANTER 

Ond dewr yw Si6ii yr Heidden fwyn, 
Nid hidia niad llew y llwyn : 
Ni hidia glonci^ am ddu bail 
Y gelyn, na chweithinad diaA. 

'Roedd Huw, I'r cwrw yn ei goryn, 
Yn gryf fel cawr, yn hyf fel coryn ; 
Am chwarae teg i bob dyhiryn — 
Nis bradai ddiafl nac un ysbrydyn. 

Ond Darby grychai mwng fel gwrychyn, 
Dechreuai gilio'n ol mewn dychryn ; 
A Huw yn cbwipio a sparduno, 
A ffwrdd & Darby'n mlaen ag efo ; 
Gan fentni'n agos i'r golcuni — 
O gwared ni rhag fath gwcipeini. 
Ysbrydion hyllion, gwylltion gwallgo', 
Yn dawnsio, jiggio, a chwirli'o — 
Tylwytbion teg yn ysgafn drocdio. 
Is y banciau dan ysboncio ; 
Pob math o hyll ysgymun luniau, 
Yn gwau drwy'u gilydd hyd yr ochrau ; 
Dewinod — gwiachod, croenau crycbion, 
A lloffion diafl, a llyffaint duon ; 
Rha: hyllion, manrion yn ymwrio, 
Yn neidio, crecian, ac yn crowcio ; 
Draenogod, cbwilod, Uygod liegach, 
Ffwlbartiaid aflan — baban bwbacb ; 
Gwiberod — nadroedd llysnafeddawl, 
A llawer ffyrnig gyw uffemawl, 
Pob gwrtbun ac ysgymun gaid, 
Yn dawnsio "mhlith y ddieflig bald. 

Belpbegor oedd yn canu'r sturmant, 
Mewn ceubren eLyll yn y ddunant ; 
A'i gym yn fTorcbi uwch ei ben, 
Ac ar bob un ddylluan wen ; 
A tw-hw-hw y dylluanod, 
Oedd chorus certh y pwU diwaelod. 
A Bel oedd nerth ei geg a'i ddwylaw, 
Yn chwarae— a'r nentydd yn dadseiniaw; 
A'i lygaid tanllyd yn gwreichioni, 



5i8 BU/^NS IN WELSH 

A'i gamau'n cydio yn y gwerni ; 
A'i g^nffon oedd yn droion draw, 
Y'mhlith y ceryg, pridd a baw ; 
Oddeutu hon 'roedd seirff plethiedig, 
Yn gwau yn hynod a gwenwynig ; 
Yn gwylio'n unol i*u colynau — 
Rhag i rhyw gaswyr drin ei goesau. 

'Roedd eirch, a chyrff yn farwol ynddynt, 
Mewn amdo — a phob un o honynt, 
Yn dal hir ganwyll, dan oer-g^ynaw, 
Ar y ddu-elawr rhwng ei ddwylaw — 
A gwelai Huw tu hwnt i'r ceubren, 
Ysgerbwd mwrdrwr ar y crogbren, 
A chyllyll hirion, Uymion, hyll*ddu, 
A g^^'aed llofruddion yn ei rhydu ; 
A gwaedlyd ddam o linyn sach, 
A hwn y tagwyd baban bach ; 
A dam o dwca mab y frad, 
A hwn y lladdodd mab ei dad ; 
'Roedd gwaed yr henddyn hyd y darn, 
A'r gwallt yn glynu wrth y cam — 
A 11a wer o wrthrychau hyllion, 
£u benwi fyddai'n angbyfreithlon. 

A thra 'roedd Huw yn llygadr>'thu, 
Mewn syndod ac yn pensyfrdanu, 
Gwylltach a gwylltach y digrifwch, 
Llawnach a llonach y llawenwch : 
Chwareuai'r diafi hyd eitha'i allu, 
A hwythau'n dawnsio odd ei ddeutu ; 
Yn chwym a bywiog — a chom neu bawen 
Yn nwylaw pawb, a phawb yn llawen ; 
Chwymach a chwyrnach, wrth edrych amynt, 
Y dawnsiant — Uamant fcl y llym-wynt ; 
Yn picio, reelio, ac yn rholiaw, 
Nes chwysu cu cyrff, eu traed, a'u dwylaw ; 
Nes colli eu peisiau yn eu brys, 
A dawnsio'n noethion — ond y crys. 

O Huw, Huw I ped fuasai'r rhai'n 
Yn Idn lodesi cynhes cain ; 



TAM 0' SHANTER 

Gennbod beirdd dan ugain oed, 

Pob un yn wi^ ar ei throed ; 

A gwisg o liain main lUw mftn-od, 

Mewn urdd yn hilio pob hardd aelod : 

Rboddaswn lon'd fy mhvrra o arian 

Am im' gael gweled lluniau gwiwlan, 

Aelodau beirdd pob siriol suen 

Yn dannsio wrth eu bodd yn llawen— 

Ond gwiuchod hyllion, crychion, crachog 1 

Digon i'th yru yn gynddeiriog, 

A pheisiau gwlanen am eu cluniau, 

Vn neidio, sponcio is y banciau— 

'Rw/n synu yn fawr na wnaelbant iti, 

Glwyfo o iasau a glafoesi. 

Er hyn 'roedd Huw a bendith iddo, 
Y rholyn praff, yn graff ac effro : 
'Roedd un yn mhlith y gwracbod crychion, 
Sef merch i witch a Sir Gaemarfon, 
Wedi ymlistio'r noswaith bono, 
Gan dylwyth teg hi g&dd ei hudo — 
Bu son am Cadi drwy'r boll gwmwd, 
Hi gurai pob rhyw vn'UA yn siwrwd : 
Pan fyddai morwyn Ion neu lances, 
Yn codi'n foreu i odro'r fiicbes, 
Mi fyddai Cadi i'i draenogod 
Wedi godro'r boreu'n barod : 
Hi fyddai'n rhwystro'r llaetb i gotddi, 
Er i'r llancesi gorddi o ddifri', 
Ni chaed ddim 'menyn yn y pum-awr, 
A byn a berai boenau dirfawr : 
Hi fyddai weitbiau'n suro'r cwtw, 
Ac weithiau'n witsio y llaetb cadw : 
Waitb arall y byddai'n newid planios, 
Er poen a gofid i'r gwrageddos; 
A'u ffeirio am blant tylwythion teg, 
Pob un o'r rhai'n fai'n lledu ei geg, 
I grlo ddydd a nos heb beidio — 
Och t Dcb I fel byddai'n wichi-wacblo. 
Hi fedrai droi ei bun yn ddntenog. 



520 BURNS IN WELSH 

Ac weithiau ereill yn 'sgyfamog ; 
A llawer gwaith y cidd ei hela, 
Ond curai'r c^n bob tro yn dipia': 
Pan heliwyd hi iV bwthyn bach, 
Mi fyddai wedi troi yn wrach ; 
A phawb yn ofni mentro yno, 
Rhag byddai iddynt gael eu witsio. 

Ond pan oedd Cadi'n dawnsio reei^ 
Hcfo ysbrydion Nant-y-chwil ; 
Yr oedd fel geneth ddeunaw oed, 
Yn hardd, ac ysgafn ar ei throed, 
Yn lodes hoew, loew o lun, 
Yn ddigon i fToli diafl a dyn : 
A'i phais o wlanen gwta prin 
Yn cyrhaedd i lawr at ben ei glin : 
'Roedd Huw yn ffoli ac yn synu, 
A Satan ei hun yn llygadrythu ; 
Gan chwarae nerth ei geg a'i ddwylaw^ 
A Chadi'n dinsyth yno'n dawnsiaw ; 
Heb stopio funud yn ei stepiau, 
Ond dawnsiai nerth ei thraed a^i choesau . 
Nes darfii i Huw wirioni'n hoUol, 
Gan floeddio nerth ei %it% yn wrol ; 
" Well done y bais gwta ! " — 

Ar winciad llygad y diffoddwyd 

Y tin — a Huw mewn perygl bywyd ; 
A phrin mewn dychryn cychwyn gaid, 
Nes oedd y felldigedig haid, 

Yn rhedeg ar ei ol yn brysur 

" O gyra Huw ! neu byddi'n rhywyr.** 

Os dygwydd ini ddigio gwenyn, 
Colynant bawb ddaw'n agos atyn'; 
Pan floeddir " Lleidr" yn y farchnad, 
Ac yntau'n rhedeg hefo'i ladrad ; 
Bydd pawb yn rhedeg i ddal lleidr, 
Fel ag y byddynt i ladd neidr. 
Fel milgwn chwym ar ol 'sgyfamog, 

Y rhedai'r 'sbrydion yn gynddeiriog ; 
Yn chwim a Uym — a Huw yn gyru. 



TAM O- SHAJfTEK 

A Darby hithau yn carianu. 

'Rocdd Huw yn chvripio ac yn decian, 

A hwythau'n 'sgythni ac yn 'sgrechian. 

Huw ! yn uflem byddi heno, 
Fel pcnog coch y gvraiant dy rostio ; 
Ac er fod SUin yn gweitia amad, 

Ni chaiff ond gwrando ar dy farwnad. 

Hwi I Hwi 1 Huw bach ; Hwi I Darby anwyl, 
Y mae'r ysbrydion yn dy ymyl ; 
Carlama'n fuan fcl y gwynt— 
Hvri! Darby bach ! y'nghynt, /nghynt— 
Nes cyrhaedd maen-cla Pont yr Aled, 
Mae pawb yn gwybod am y dynged ; 
Nad eill na witches nac ysbrydion, 
Na thylwyth teg ddim croesi afon. 
Cyrhaeddodd Darby glo y bont ; 
Ond we]e Cadi, fenyw front, 
Yr hon a redai'n fuan, fuan, 
Y'nghynt na'r llcill — yrwan ! 'rwan ! 
Mae Cadi'n neidio at Vi chynfTon, 
Gan ei gwasgaru yn ysgytion ; 
Ond saliwyd Huw o'i 'winedd creulon, 
A Darby hefyd — ond ei chynfTon. 

1 ffordd a Huw dros Bont y Gwyddyl, 
Dan sisia], " Darby, Darby anwyl, 

Os cawn ni unvraith gyrhaedd Llanfair, 
Ni fyddwn ddiwyd ac yn ddiwair : 
Nid awn i byth i blith ysbrydion, 
Nac chwaith i faeddu hefo meddwon." 

Ac erbyn hyn ar ol y dycbryn, 
A chad ymddianc o baA y gelyn ; 
'Roedd Huw yn sobr, Iwydion focbau, 
A chwys fel perlau hyd ei ruddiau : 
A Darby'n crynu bob yn fodfedd, 
A ffoam a baw, chwys a llysnafedd, 
I'w hilio o'i pben, i'r lie bu'r gynfTon. 
A'i llygaid yn melltenu'n wylltion. 

O ddeutu pump o'r gloch y bore', 
Cyrhaeddodd Huw a Darby adre'; 



522 BURNS IN WEI^H 

Aeth Huw i'w wel/n sil am wythnos, 

A rhai a ddywedant am bymthengnos : 

A'i holl gym'dogion ddaethant yno, 

I edrych ac i holi am dano ; 

£r mwyn cael clywed son am 'sbrydion, 

Dan wir ryfeddu mewn amryw foddion ; 

Roedd rhai yn credu'r chwedl oil. 

Am bob rhyw ellyll, hyllig, coll ; 

Ac ereill haerent, amryw oriau, 

Mai meddw fawr oedd Huw, yn ddiau ; 

Ac iddo g^sgu, a breuddwydio 

Yr hyn a draethais ichi heno. 

Ond pa fodd bynag, gwir yw hyn, 
Mae cyfnewidiad yn y dyn: 
Y mae ef eilwaith wrth ei alwad, 
Yn myn'd i'r dref i ffair a marchnad : 
Ond byth ar ol yr helynt hwnw, 
Ni welodd neb mo Huw yn feddw. 

The beautiful examples of alliteration to which, by its 
fluidity and flow, the Welsh language lends itself, and 
which are so numerous in this piece, produce a most 
agreeable effect; but it is to be regretted that Talhaiam 
did not employ his own language throughout, as the 
introduction of the words "witches," "reel," "chorus," 
"Well done," etc., which I have put in italics, must 
grate upon the ear of a Welsh reader — ^indeed, the sowid 
represented by " tch," as in "witch," does not exist in the 
Welsh tongue. 



^0 a Jftottntain pates. 

This, in marked contrast to the foregoing piece, is an 
excellent translation, by J. C. Davies. Exception might 
be taken to the first two lines, as 



TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY 

"Wee, modest, crimson-tippM flow'r, 
Thou's met me in an evil hour"; 



523 



are evidently too difficult for Mr. Davies. Indeed, it is 
curious that " crimson-tippM " has not been rendered in 
a single instance in any language. Here we have 

"Bachigyn wylaidd freilw mwyn-gu, 
Drwg yw dy gwrdd pan wyf yn am."* 

The rest of the poem is well rendered, the verse be- 
ginning, 

" Such is the fate of artless maid," 
"Mai hyn yw tynged didwyll feinir," 

being especially beautiful ; but indeed the verses are all 
exceedingly good. 

LLYGAD Y DYDD, 

WRTH EI DROI I LAWR DAN GWYS YR ARADR. 

J. C. Davies. 

Bachigyn wylaidd freilw mwyn-gu, 
Drwg yw dy gwrdd pan wyf yn am ; 
O dan y briddell y rhaid baeddu 

Dy baladr main ; 
Dy arbed sydd uwch law fy ngallu, 

Flodeuyn cain 1 

Och ! nid dy gymmydog dedwydd, 
Dy fwyn gydymaith, yr ehedydd, 
A'th blyga g^da gwlith boreuddydd, 

A'i ddwyfron flydd, 
Pan esgyn i groesawu'n ufydd 

Wawr y dydd. 

* Wee, modest daisy, gentle, lovable, 
Evil it is to meet thee while I am ploughing. 



524 



BURNS IN WELSH 

Yn oer y chwythai gwynt gorllewin. 
Pan darddaist yn y gauaf gerwin ; 
Ond codaist yn dy wylltedd iesin 

I oddef hin ; 
A phrin ymddangos cyn i'r ddryghin 

Fod yn flin. 

fewn ein gerddi y cawn flodau, 
Ac iV cysgodi goed a muriau : 

1 ti nid oes ond antur gaerau 

O bridd neu faen, 
Tra yr addurni ein mynyddau, 

A'th ddail ar daen. 

Ac yn dy fantell brin ymdrwsi 
Dy wenfron dyner a ledaeni, 
Dy wylaidd egwan ben ddyrchefi 

Mewn symledd glwys ; 
Ond gan yr aradr y suddi 

dan y gwys. 

Mai hyn yw tynged didwyll feinir, 
Mewn gwledig fwth a dyner fegir, 
Gan symledd cariad a fradycbir, 

A hudol wedd, 
Ac yna'n ddifwynedig gleddir 

Yn y bedd. 

Mai hyn yw tynged syml brydydd, 
Ar eigion bywyd yn anhylwydd ! 
I droion amser yn anghelfydd, 

Heb ddysg na dawn ; 
Ac i'r dygyfor cwymp yn cbrwydd, 

Cyn gwel ei nawn ! 

Mai hyn y teilwng a ddyoddefa, 
Mewn gwae ac eisiau yr ymdrecha, 
Tra dichell balchder a'i herlyna 

1 ofyd dwys ; 
Heb obaith ond y Nef, ymsudda 

O dan ei bwys ! 



TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY 525 

A thi, s/n cwyno uwch y breilw, 
Dy dynged tithau fydd y cyfryw ; 
Hen aradr Adfall fydd dy ddystryw 

Yn eiddil wan ; 
A dy falurio yn y rhelyw 

Fydd dy ran ! 

The songs are unequal, being by different translators. 
The two first are anonymous. 



^ JttHn'0 a JRan iax a' that 

is very well given, but it is rather spoiled by the well- 
known lines, 

** The rank is but the guinea stamp ; 
The man's the gowd for a' that,'' 

being rendered 

" Nid ydyw urdd end argraff aur, 
Y dyn yw*r pwnc er hyn oil."* 

This is a slight defect, and, on the other hand, many 
of the lines are given with terseness and vigour, so that 
the Welsh reader can realize the power of this " immortal 
manifesto of the superiority of manhood." 

MAE DYN YN DDYN, ER HYN OLL, 
O'R "Wawr." 

A oes, am dlodi gonest bwn, 

Yn gwyro'i ben, a hyn oil? 
Y caethwas llwfr, awn heibio hwn, 

A meiddiwn fyw er hyn oil ! 

^ The rank is but the gold's impression, 
The man is the point, for all this. 



526 BVRyS IN WELSH 

£r hyn oil, a hyn oil, 
£in lludded cudd, a hyn oil, 

Nid ydyw urdd ond argraif aur, 
Y dyn yw'r pwnc cr hyn oil. 

Pa waeth os cinio prin, yn flin, 
A siaced Iwyd, a hyn oil ; 

Caed ifol ei sidan, cnaf ei win, 
Mae dyn yn ddyn er hyn oil ; 

£r hyn oil, a hyn oil, 

Eu heurwe fTug, a hyn oil ; 

Y gonest ddyn, er pa mor dlawd, 
Yw brenin pawb er hyn olL 

Chwi welwch draw'r ysgog^yn balch, 
Yn syth ei drem, a hyn oil ; 

Er cryma rhai wrth air y gwalch, 
Nid yw ond coeg, er hyn oil : 

Er hyn holl, a hyn oil, 
Ysnoden, aur, a hyn oil, 

Y dyn ag annibynol fryd, 

A syll a chwardd ar hyn oil. 

Geill brenin wneuthur marchog llawn, 
Ardalydd, Dug, a hyn oil ; 

Ond gonest ddyn, & chalon lawn, 
Sy fwy nas gall, er hyn oil ! 

£r hyn oil, a hyn oil, 
Eu hurddas gwych, a hyn oil 

Y synwyr cryf, a'r meddwl teg, 
Sy raddau uwch na hyn oil. 

Rho'wn lef y'nghyd, am ddod y pryd — 

A dod a wna, er hyn oil — 
Bydd synwyr clyd, tros wyneb byd, 

Yn dwyn y parch, a hyn oil ; 
Er hyn oil, a hyn oil, 

Yn dod y mae, er hyn oil. 
Pan dros y byd, bydd dyn a dyn, 

Yn frawdol un, er hyn olL 



SCOTS. IVNA HAE 527 

is not so well done. Tlie first line, 

" Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled," 
loses its distinctive chann by the omission or any reference 
to the nationality— 

"Chwi, fu'n gwaedu ag Wallace fad,'" 

and the last verse, 

" Lay the proud usurpers low 1 
Tyrants fall in every foe ! 
Liberty's in every blow \~ 
Forward ! let us do or die !" 

is too narrow and feeble in 

" Rhowch dan draed y balch a'i drais I 
Gormes syrth pan syrtbio Sais ! 
Rbyddid, clywch, sydd yn mhob clais 1— 
Gwnawn yn lew, neu farWn Uu !"* 
The line 

"Gormes syrth pan syrtbio Sais!"^ 

is more indicative of the intense patriotism of the trans- 
lator than flattering to the English reputation. It is only 
&UI to say, however, that the other verses are more 
worthy of the original. 



' Vou who have bled with heroic Wallace. 

* Pul under feel the ptoud and his oppreuion ; 
Tyranny falls when the Enelisbmaa Calls, 
Liberty 1 bark I ii in every blow — 

Let ui do bravely, or die in troops. 

* Tyranny falls when the Englishman falli 1 



528 BURNS IN WELSH 

ANERCH BRUCE 
I*W FYDDIN, Y'MRWYDR BANNOCKBURN 

D. L. P. 

Chwi, fu*n gwaedu ag Wallace fad, 
Ami arweiniodd Bruce i'r gad ; 
Croesaw, 'ngMr^r, i'ch gwely gwa'd, 
Neu i fuddugoliaeth gu ! 

Hwn yw'r dydd, a hon yw'r awr ; 
Blaen y gad gymyla'i gwawr ; 
A'r balch Edwart nesa 'nawr — 
Edwart, tidau, caethder du I 

Pw/n ddyhiryn bradus f ai ? 
Pwy i fedd y Uwfryn ii? 
Pwy yn gaetbwas sil a sa'i? 
Cilied— cilied, ffoed i'w d^ ! 

Pwy dros deym a deddf ei dir 
Rymus dyn gledd rhyddid pur, 
Saif neu syrth yn rhyddwr gwir, 
Deued, a dilyned fi ! 

Myn gruddfanau — poenau prudd 
Myn eich plant yn gaethion sydd ! 
Gwag ein gwythi hoffaf fydd, 
Ond c&nt fod yn rhyddion hy* ! 

Rhowch dan draed y balch a'i drais ! 
Gormes syrth pan syrthio Sais ! 
Rhyddid, clywch, sydd yn mhob dais ! — 
Gwnawn yn lew, neu farw'n llu I 



This song, though not in the selection of representative 
pieces I have chosen, is so exquisitely translated by Mr. 
Daniel Ddu that its insertion requires no apology. 



HIGHLAND MART gig 

MARL 
Daniel Ddu. 
Chwi fryniau glwys a choed o gylch 

HofT gasiell gUn Montgom'ri, 
Yn bardd bo'cb gwawr, yn wyrdd bo'cb dail, 

Mewn glendid yn rhaf^ori ; 
Byth yno 'nghynta' gweler haf, 

Ac yno'n ola'n gwetiu. 
Can's yno'r ymadewais i 

A'm banwyl, anwyl Fan. 
Mor hardd oedd clog y fedwen las, 

A blodait'r drain mor wynion. 
Pan dan cu cudd y gwasgwn i 

F' angyles al fy nghalon ! 
Yr oriau'n bfr aent dros y bardd, 

A'r un ag oedd e'n hoFli ; 
Can's hoff i mi fel bywyd oedd 

Fy anwyl, anwyl Fari. 
Trwy lawer llw, a'n breichiau 'nghio, 

Bu dyner ein gwahaniad ; 
Can addunedu mynycb gwrdd, 

Torasom ein cofleidiad ; 
Ond O ! rhew angau deifio wnaeth 

Fy rhosyn bardd — fy liti ; 
Gwyrdd yw'r dywarchen, oer yVr clai, 

Sy'n cloi fy anwyl Fari. 
O ! gwelw yw'r gwefusau pfir, 
Mar swynol gawn gusanu ; 
A chwedi caead amynt byth 

Mae'r llygaid oedd mor llon-gu ; 
Mae'n llwch a lludw'r galon lin 

Mor dyner fu'n fy ngharu 1 
Ond yn fy nghof a'm serch caiff fyw 
Fy anwyl, anwyl Fari. 

It is really a matter of wonder and disappointment that 
language which the author of Gems of English Verse 



S30 



BURNS IN WELSH 



claims — and no doubt properly so — to possess so much 
"strength and flexibility," and so many other character- 
istics which make it eminently suitable for a poetical 
expression of thought, should not possess a complete 
version of the poems of Bums. It is to be hoped that 
some of the men of poetical instinct, of which Wales 
seems to be the rich possessor, may render this ser\'ice 
to their country. 



LATIN. 

I NOW leave the ** living" languages, and conclude my 
work by looking at these poems in the dead tongues, 
though, indeed, so far as I have been able to learn, the 
specimens are confined to the most generally known of these 
languages — the Latin. I have found several renderings, 
but have dealt only with two : one by Mr. Alex. Leighton, 
published in Edinburgh, 1862,^ and the other, some 
translations in a collection of Scottish songs, by Mr. 
Alex. Whamond, published in Hamilton, 1892.^ 

It can hardly be considered a reproach to either of 
these gentlemen to say that their attempts to render Bums 
into intelligible, smooth Latin have not been thoroughly 
successful. We have found some of the difficulties, and 
have seen examples of failure in translating these poems 
even into living languages — when the authors transpose a 
language which they understand into what is their own, and 
a part of their very nature. How much greater must these 
difficulties be when the attempt is made to translate into 

' The Principal Songs of Robert Bums, translated into Mediaeval 
Latin verse by Alex. Leighton. Edinburgh : William P. Ninimo. 
1862. 

' Cantica Scotica e vulgari sermone in I^tinum conversa. Inter- 
prete Alexandro Whamond. Hamiltoni : Excudebat Gulielmus Nais- 
mith. 1892. 

531 



532 



BURNS IN LATIN 



a language acquired — not used in the moulding form of 
conversation, and therefore mechanical, artificial, and 
somewhat rigid ! These difficulties are still more in- 
tensified when the metre employed is one which has no 
parallel in that language, and to which the words do not 
naturally lend themselves. Notwithstanding these diffi- 
culties, both writers have in many cases overcome them 
to a remarkable degree. Mr. Leighton's work should be 
examined in the light of mediaeval rules and models. This 
would lead me much too far. I rather consider how 
the spirit and meaning of the original are given in these 
renderings. A Latin scholar in Glasgow, whose assistance 
has been kindly given me, writes somewhat severely: — 
** Mediaeval Latin poetry in the hands of Adam of St. Victor 
has a lightness, an airy grace, a melodic variety worthy of 
Burns. Mr. Leighton has not made good use of his models 
in this regard. His sense of rhythm is poor. Again and 
again do we find lines utterly destitute of melody. They 
cannot be made, even with forcing, to read smoothly. 
Nor can he always keep to the metrical system with 
which he starts a given piece" — the rendering of "I am 
a Son of Mars " being given as an instance, together with 
the " et omne quid " and the strange refrain of " Nihilo- 
minus, Nihilominus," etc., in " A Man's a Man," and 
other instances which the Latin scholar will easily perceive. 
In addition to the above, the first line in 

Jfor a' that 

is not happy, and " Notatum aurum Ordo est " too forced 
for "Signatum aurum signitas." Still the piece with a 
little trimming reads not amiss. Of course the task is 
made easier by the departure from the original version. 



FOR A' THAT 

PEtl OJ/XE QUID. 
Alex. Lkiguton. 

Estne pro pauperiem 

Qui langueat — et omne quid I 
Te limide 1 dimittimus 

Egeni nos — et omne quid. 
Nihilominus, nihilominus, 

Angus tix — et omne quid. 
Notatum aurum Ordo est, 

Aurum vir — per omne quid. 

Licet nobis olera, 

Pannique, aqua — omne quid ; 
Da stultis vinum, sericas, 

Vir est vir— per omne quid. 
Nihilominus, nihilominus, 

Pompx, nugx — omne quid ; 
Honeslus licet pauper vir 

Rex hominuni — per omne quid. 

Homuncio ecce dominus I 

Qui lurgeat — et omne quid ; 
Adore nt licet sexcenti 

Stultus est— per omne quid, 
Nihilominus, nihilominus, 

Slellx, vitlic — omne quid ; 
En vir subjectus nemini 

Arridet ille — omne quid. 

Rex facere posset equilem, 

Marchionem, duceni — omne quid ; 
Sed vir honestus superal ; 

Mehercle ] non consummet id. 
Nihilominus, nihilominus, 

Et Ordines — et omne quid ; 
Mens Sana recti conscia 

Excelsior est quam omne quid. 

Oremus ergo accidat, 
Et accidet per omne quid; 



534 BURNS IN LATIN 

Ut probitasque bonitas 
Sint principes — per omne quid. 

Nihilominus, nihilominus, 
Venturum est — per omne quid, 

Ut homines hominibus 
Fratres sint — per omne quid. 



§toiz, toha hat 

compares somewhat unfavourably with Whamond's stirring 
and expressive translation. " Erimus liberi " — the rhythm 
adopted would require the impossible "erimus." Other 
unhappinesses in rhythm are apparent, but I attach more 
importance to the rendering of the meaning. 

"We will drain our dearest veins" 

— What a power there is in these half-dozen words, what 
resistless action ! Teeth set fast, hands clenched, every 
nerve strained, are all vividly suggested by Bums; and 
how vapidly are they reproduced by 

"Expertes simus sanguinis";^ 
and 

" Forward ! let us do or die ! " 

is unworthily rendered by 

" Est Scotis vincere ! " 

which, I fear, would be called claptrap in ordinary writing. 

COMMILITES WALLACIO, 
Alex. Leighton. 

Commilites Wallacio; 
Scoti ducti Bnicio ; 
Cruento grati lectulo ! 
Mors aut victoria ! 



* May we be devoid of blood. 



SCOTS, WHA HAE 535 

Nunc hora est nunc dies, 
£n ! prima proelii acies ! 
Nunc accedunt Saxones 
Edwardus, vincula ! 

Quisne erit perfidus ? 
Quis morietur pavidus? 
Servus quis ignobilis? 
Ignave ! fugito ! 

Legem et qui regem amat, 
£t pro iis ensem trahat 
Liber vivat, liber cadat : 
Instetis vos cum me. 

Poenas per tyrannidis, 
Per filios in vinculis, 
Expertes simus sanguinis, 
Erimus liberi ! 

Sternite tyrannos hos 
Pemumeratos ictibus ; 
In omni plaga libertas ! 
Est Scotis vincere ! 

Here Mr. Leighton fails somewhat in several lines. 

" Gulielmus potum coxit, 
Robert' ergo et Allani,"i 

is rather ambiguous for 

"Willie brew'd a peck o* maut, 

And Rob and Allan cam' to pree.** 

In worse taste is 

"Joviales tres sedemus 
Tres sedemus ebrii,"' 

^ William cooked a draught, 

Robert therefore and Allan. 
" We three merry ones sit down* 

We sit down three tipsy ones. 



536 BURNS IN LA TIN 

which should never have been offered for 

" Here are we met, three merry boys. 
Three merry boys, I trow, are wc." 

Mr. Leighton's rendering is opposed to Bums, who causes 
his heroes to say expressly that they were " na fou." Surely 
Mr. Leighton does not wish to suggest that because they 
were merry they must therefore have been " tipsy," and 
tipsy even before they sat down ; but this is really his 
version. There are, however, some good lines, as the 
reader will see. 

GUL/ELMUS POTUM COXIT. 
Alex. Leighton. 

Gulielmus potum coxit, 

Robert* ergo et Allani : 
Noctu tres hilariores, 
Fuerunt non in Christandie. 
Non inebriamur nos. 

Scintilla tan turn oculo : 
Canat gallus — luceat : 
Laetabimur in pocula 

Joviales tres sedemus 

Tres sedemus ebrii, 
Beatas noctes vidimus, 

Speramus pluribus fnii. 
Nos inebriamur, etc 

Ecce cornua lunellae, 

Nitentis illuc quantulum ! 
Tentat trahere ad domum, 

Pol ! restabit tantulum. 
Nos inebriamur, etc 

lUe primus qui exsurget, 

Cuccurra timidissime ! 
Qui sub sella primus cadet, 

Trium nostrum rex ille. 
Nos inebriamur, etc 



GREEN GROW THE RASHES 537 

Srtcn (StotD the |[Uehe0 
ingles very well in its Latin trappings, if you forget 
hat it is Latin, but when one remembers that a final 
'O" as given in this song is in that language absolutely 
neanmgless, it makes the rendering rather absurd 

CSBSCANT JUNCILU, O. 
Alex. Leighton. 
Crescant juncilli, O ; 

Crescant juncilli, O ; 
Nulla vita dulcior 

Quam vita cum puellis, O. 
Est nil ni cura undique, 

In unaquaque bora, O ; 
Quid pretii 1 vita hominis 

Absente duici corcul-O. 

Avari rem venati sint, 

Divitize efiugiuni, O ; 
El forte si arreptx sint, 

Corda non delectant, 0. 
Crescant, etc. 
Da mihi boram vesperam, 

Cum meo desidcri-O ; 
Mundana: curs, homines, 

Vadant in tapsalteerie, O. 
Crescant, etc 
Prudentes irridetis vos, 

Exanimi aselli t O ; 
Salomo sapient ior 

Has amavit belle ! O. 

Crescant, etc. 

Natura jurat "femina I 

Supremo anticellis, O 1" 
Tironis manus hominem 

Formavit tunc puellas, O. 
Crescant, etc. 



538 BURNS m LATIN 

^ Duncanus Canus venit nobis " 
is hardly 

" Duncan Gray cam' here to woo " : 

and 

"Et moriturum praedicabat " ^ 

is a really painful rendering of the dramatic sketch • 

Burns — 

" Spak' o* lowpin' o'er a linn." 

This is tragedy compared with the " moriturum prset 
cabat " platitude. 

DUNCANUS CANUS. 
Alex. Leighton*. 

Duncanus Canus venit nobis. 

Ha ! ha ! amores hi ! 
Festu quum inebriabamus. 

Ha ! ha ! amores hi ! 
Caput Maggea jactabat, 
Oculos et obliquabat, 
Duncanum fastu pertractabat, 

Ha ! ha ! amores hi ! 

Duncanus videns et orabat, 

Ha ! ha ! amores hi ! 
Maggea surdula fiebat, 

Ha ! ha ! amores hi I 
Duncanus miser suspirabat, 
In csecitatem lacrymabat, 
£t moriturum praedicabat, 

Ha ! ha ! amores hi ! 

Fluit tempus, fluit casus, 

Ha ! ha ! amores hi I 
iCstuat contemptus amor, 

Ha ! ha ! amores hi ! 



' Declared he was about to die. 



DUNCAN GRA Y 539 

" Moriar ? " dicit sibi, 
" Partem ludens fatui 
" Galliam abeat — pro me ! " 
Ha ! ha ! amores hi ! 

Qua evenit — dum valebat, 

Ha ! ha ! amores hi ! 
Maggea sequens xgrotabat, 

Ha ! ha ! amores hi ! 
Aliquid in corde radit, 
Lenis gemitus evadit, 
Lacryma per genas cadit, 

Ha ! ha ! amores hi I 

Duncanus vir est lepidus, 

Ha ! ha ! amores hi ! 
Maggese erant male res, 

Ha ! ha ! amores hi I 
I lie non occideret, 
Ejus ilium miseret, 
Nuptias quisque dixerit, 

Ha ! ha ! amores hi I 



This is the last song in Mr. Leighton's version to which 
I will refer from a critical standpoint, and I must confess 
I am disappointed that a writer of his reputation misses 
so many of the beautiful touches of the original. 

"Quo mea obiit Maria"* 

is the baldest and most commonplace rendering possible 

for 

"My Mary from my soul was torn" ; 

and he does not seem to grasp the perfection of that 
marvellous love scene, where all nature is on fire with 
passion. 

* On which my Mary died. 



54© BURNS IN LA TIN' 

*' Cantillant aves lepid^ " * 

fails to render 

" The birds san^ love on every spray," 

and completely spoils the charm of the great love picture 
of Bums. There are not wanting, however, some beauti- 
ful lines, though in his choice of verse one r^;rets the 
absence of a rhythm more approaching to the melody of 
the original. 

MARIA IN CjELO, 
Alex. Leighton. 

Tu Stella tarda cujus radius, 

Salutem indicat Aurorae, 
Iterum introducis diem 

Quo mea obiit Maria. 
Oh Mari' ! umbra lapsa cara I 

Ubi beatse locus pacis? 
An vides amatorem tuum? 

An audis ejus gemitus? 

An sanctae horae obliviscar. 

An obliviscar sylvulae 
Ad rivum ubi convenimus, 

Amoris diem ducere ! 
Nunquam aeternitas delebit 

Vestigia haec impetuum 
Qukm minimum heu ! censui 

Amplexum ilium ultimum. 

Ayr strepens osculavit ripas. 

Pendente dum sub sylvula, 
£t spinula et betula 

Ramos intertexuerunt 
Flores compremi exsultant, 

Cantillant aves lepid^, 
Donee cito nimium sol 

Dedit locum vesperi. 



' Birds warble sweetly. 



MARY IN HEAVEN 541 

Has scenas supervigilo, 

£t curse incubo mex : 
Vestigfia tempus excSvat 

iCque ac ripas rivuli. 
Oh Mari' ! umbra lapsa cara ) 

Ubi beatae locus pacis ? 
An vides amatorem tuum? 

An audis ejus gemitus? 



i am E ^lyx of JRar0, 
from "The Jolly Beggars." 

EN Y ALU FILIUS IN MULT IS FUl PRCELHS, 

Alex. Leighton. 

Enyalii filius in multis fui proeliis, 
Ostendo mea vulnera quocunque veniam 

Hoc fero pro ancilla, et illud ex fossula 
Cum Gallos gratularer — ad tonans tympanum. 

Duxi tirocinium cum ductor meus obiit 
Et jactae essent aleae per colles de Abram, 

Ejus agmina sequebar cum ludus luderetur 
Et Moro sterneretur— ad tonans tympanum. 

Ultimo cum Curti, inter nantia pugnacula, 
Reliqui qua pro testibus et cms et brachium ; 

Si oporteat armare, et sub Elliot pugnare, 
Super truncos strepitabo — ad tonans tympanum. 

Licet me mendicare cum tibia lignari', 
Pendentibus panniculis super dorsum ; 

Beatus crumenella et utre et puella, 
Ut solet in coccineo sectari tympanum. 

Etiamsi sit mi ferre procellas super terra 
Per scopulos et sylvulas tanquam domum ; 

Cum vendam meum sacculum et alterum utriculum, 
Diabolis obstarem — ad tonans t>'mpanum. 



542 BURNS IN LA TIN 

The final "O" comes under the remarks on "Grw 
Grow the Rashes, O." 

ANNA. 
Alex. Leighton. 

Post colles ubi interfluit, 

Lugar paludes multas, O, 
Brumalis sol fert vesperum, 

£t ibo ad me' Amiam, O. 
Canorus ventus perstrepit, 

Nox ater pluvialis, O, 
Mi sumam meum gausape, 

£t ibo ad me' Annam, O. 

Me' Anna pulchra juvenis, 

In ilia nuUus dolus, O ; 
Infelix ille ! lingua qui 

Deciperet me' Annam, O. 
Facies suavis, verum cor, 

Quam pura ac est bella, O ; 
Dispandens rosa roscida, 

Non pulchrior est quam Anna, O. 

Sum puer pauper rusticus, 

£t pauci noscitant me, O ; 
Quid mea refert quam pauci. 

Si gratus apud Annam, O. 
Merces denarii res me' est, 

Oportet sim perparcus, O ; 
Mundanae res non angunt me, 

Me' cura est me' Anna, O, 

Seni nostro libeat 

Videre oves multas, O ; 
Bcatior Ego qui aro, 

Nil cura nisi Anna, O. 
Adsit bonum adsit malum, 

Accipi' quae dant coeli, O ; 
In vita nulla cura mi, 

Ni vivere cum Anna, O. 



LAST MAY A BRAW WOOER 



MAtO, AMATOS VENIT. 
Alex. LetnHTON. 
Maio, amator venii per vallem, 
Et amore me muito pertusit, 
Hominibus, dixi, odisse nil pejus ! 
Sed malum ! ut ille mi crederet crederet 
Sed malum I ut ille mi crederet 
De telis, et dixit, oculorum 



Moreretur, respond!, si placet pro me, 

Absolvite, dii ! mendacem mendacem 

Absolvite, dii ! mendacem. 
Praedium instructum, ipse dominus, 

Et nuptix conditiones \ 
Non ci impertivi ut curaverim, 

Sed censui essent pejores pejores 

Sed censui essent pejores. 
Quid sentias nunc ? ille paulo post haec, 

Sensum mal' 1 ut appropinquareret, 
Inconstans ad Betham direct' abiit, 

Conjice ! quim illam paterer paterer 

Conjice 1 qukm illam pnterer. 
Hebdomada, anxi me ex animo, 

Trinundini ludos adibam ; 
Et quis ni amator obstaret mlhi ? 

Vidit I ac si viderit magiam magiam 

Vidit 1 ac si viderit magiam. 
Sed lente recedens connixi illi, 

Ne quis me putaret procervam : 
Exsultat amaior, ac si ebrius, 

Et vovit me suam puellam puetlam 

Et vovit me suam puellam. 
De Betha rogavi adeo suaviter, 

Si auditus recuperaretur, 



544 BURNS IN LATIN 

Quam aptarint me' soleas loripedi. 
Dii ! qukm ille imprecaretur-cajnetur 
Dii ! qukm ille imprecaretur. 

Oravit, per Deum, ut essem uxor 
Enecarem vel eum dolore ; 

£t tantum tenere in illo vitam 
Mane proximo nubi me volo me volo 
Mane proximo nubi me volo. 



£ hat a SBife o' ms ain. 

EST hfULtBR UN/CO MI. 
Alex. Leighton. 



f t 



Est mulier un;cQ^i, 
Participa cum nemine, 

Ciimicam nemini sumam, 
Dabo curniqiin neminL 

Mihi denarius est ;.. ^ .* . 

Ecce ! gr^tias ninpini ; 
Ad foeiius habeonil, .;[ 

Sum^m nifaHum aficui. 



Dominus neminis.sum, 

Servus ero nemini, 
Gladius longus mi, 

Patiar plagas neminis. 

Liber et ero hil&ris, 

Tristis propter neminem, 
Si nemo curet me, 

Ego curabo neminem. 

Mr. Alex. Whamond's work is not so ambitious, and 
he has had the advantage of thirty years' "progress in 
literature" since Mr. Leighton's book appeared. It is to 
be regretted that in his collection of Scotch songs only 
some half-a-dozen are from Burns. 




^.^^^^m^^/^^^^^'^^^ 



SCOTS, WHA HAE 545 

^cat0, toha hat. 

He opens with a really excellent and stirring version 
of this song, which seems to be in better Latin and 
to render itself more perfectly to the music than Mr. 
Leighton's corresponding rendering. 

" Nunc dies, nunc hora est," 
is more literal and freer for 

" Now's the day, and noVs the hour," 
than Mr. Leighton's 

" Nunc hora est, nunc dies." 
The same applies to other lines, such as — 

** Freedom's sword will strongly draw," 
which is more powerful in 

" Ut gladium pro his siringat^^ 



than in 



"Et pro iis ensem trahat." 



CUM VALLA. SCOTL 
Alex. Whamond. 

Cum Valla, Scoti, qui vicistis, 
£t sub Brussio pugnavistis, 
Macti, ad mortem venistis, 
Aut victoriam. 

Nunc dies, nunc hora est, 
Minax acies adest, 
Edwardi vis haud longe abest, 
Vincla et servitus. 

Siquis patriam prodat, 
Siquis mortem timeat, 
Et tyranno serviat, 
Hinc aufugito. 

2 M 



546 BUHNS IN LA TIN 

Qui regem, legem ita amat, 
Ut gladium pro his stringat, 
Ut liber vivat aut cadat, 
Is sequatur me. 

Ob oppresses filios, 
Servituti traditos, 
Sanguinem fundemus nos,. 
Ut sint liberi. 

Superbus facite ut cadat, 
Tyrannus humum mordeat, 
Libertas omnes impellat, 
Vincere aut mori. 



^ SifiWaw^ Sab. 

Like Mr. Leighton, whilst not attempting the "Jolly 
Beggars/' he goes there for this song, which is one of 
his happiest efforts. 

MONTANUS VIR. 
Alex. Whamond. 

Montanus vir, amans mei 
Cui lex erat contemptui, 
Sed genti erat fidissimus 
Montanus Johanniculus. 

Montanus Johanniculus, 
Montanus Johanniculus, 
In omni terr& par nemo, 
Montano Johanniculo. 

Versicolori tunic^, 
Aptique lateri sici, 
Puellis carus omnibus, 
Formosus Johanniculus. 

Montanus Johanniculus, etc. 

A Tweed vagati ad Speium, 
Sumus modo nobilium, 



A HIGHLAND LAD 547 

Nemo unquam fecit timidum, 
Montanum Johanniculum. 

Montanus Johanniculus, etc. 
Eum fecemnt exulem ; 
Sed ante aeslatem florentein, 
Flevi ego, gaudiis amens, 
Johannem meum complectens. 

Montanus Johanniculus, etc. 
Ceperunt eum, et, captum 
Jecenint in eigastulum ; 
Sit mala cnix nunc omnibus, 
Suspensus Johanniculus. 

Montanus Johanniculus, etc 
Lugendae mihi, nunc orbae, 
Voluptates praeterltae, 
Nil mi praebet solatium 
Ni Bacchi plenum poculum. 

Montanus Johanniculus, etc. 

^ntiran tliia^. 
Mr. Whamond is not quite so pleasing in this song ; 
the half-Latin, half-English of "Duncanus Gray" is highly 
comical ; then 

" Spak' o' loupin' o'er a linn " 
beats him almost as completely as it does Mr. Leighton, 
for 

"Mortem sibi intentabai" 

is little more than a weak apology for the original. 

"Grat bis e'en haith bleer't and blin'" 
loses its power in 

" Flensque oculos foedabaL"' 
Still, these are not un[>ardonabte defects in this really 
good rendering. 

I And weeping he disfigured his eyes. 



548 BUKNS rx I.AT/Ar 

DUNCANUS GRA Y, 
Alex. Whamond. 

Hue, Duncanus Gray, procus 

O amores lepidi ! 
Venit Satumalibus, 

O amores lepidi ! 
Alte caput Meg tollebat 
Limis oculis ridebat, 
Et Duncanum repellebat, 
O amores lepidi ! 

Duncanus blandiens petebat, 

O amores lepidi ! 
Ut Ailsa, surda Meg fiebat, 

O amores lepidi ! 
Duncanus valde suspirabat 
Flensque oculos foedabat. 
Mortem sibi intentabat, 
O amores lepidi ! 

Tempus, casus, absorbendus, 
O amores lepidi ! 

Amor spretus, vix ferendus, 
O amores lepidi ! 

" Mene fatuum mori 

Pro \\\k cui sum risui ! 

In Galliam eat; Quidni?" 
O amores lepidi ! 

Docti dicant, qui fiat, 

O amores lepidi ! 
Is valet, Meg aegrotat, 

O amores lepidi ! 
Dolor angit animum, 
Flet ilia ut levet malum. 
Ocelli angoris dant signum, 
O amores lepidi I 



DUNCAN GRAY 



549 



Mens Dunca.ni, bona, blanda, 

O amores lepidi ! 
Meg puella miseranda, 

O amores lepidi 1 
Ei sit morii noluit 
Clement em sese praebuii, 
Hymenque laetos reddidit, 
O amores lepidi I 
Mt. Whamond gives the rhythm, upon the whole, in a 
very flowing and pleasing manner, though now and again 
an unmanageable word tike " modistissima " checks the 
flow; and he utilizes sufHciently the license claimed in 
the preface, of eliding the letter m before a vowel, 
though by no means does he do so to an undue extent, 
as will be seen on reading the remaining pieces. 

John ^nhcreon, mg Jo. 

JOANNES ANDERSONE Ml, 

Ar.KX. Wl[AMt>ND. 

Joannes Andcrsonc mi, 
Quum primum cognilus, 
Crines nigra colore erant 
Vultusque nitidus ; 
Sed nunc Joannes calvus es 

Beatum sit canum caput, 

Joannes care mi. 

Joannes Andersone mi, 

Montem un4 scandimus, 

Et felices multos dies 

Simul nos egimus. 

Per pronum titubandum est, 

Sed manibus junctis ; 

Ad montis inlimam partem 

yuies erit nobis. 



550 



BURNS IN LA TIN 



RIPAE CLIVIQUE PULCHRl DOON, 
Alex. Whauond. 

Ripae clivique pulchri Doon, 

Cur vos floretis hoc modo ? 
Et cur, aves, potestis vos 

Can tare quum tarn doleo ? 
Angetis me, aviculae, 

Volantes sponte in silvis ; 
De gaudiis monetis me 

De gaudiis praeteritis. 

Ad pulchrum Doon vagata sum 

Ut rosas clymeno mixtas 
Viderem ; mecum volucres 

Cantarunt turn delicias 
£ senticeto, hilaris 

Decerpsi rosam sed, hei ! 
Amator falsus abstulit 

Rosam et spina est mihi. 

I also add, as his collection is so small, 

(D, mhidtU anb £'11 come ia gou, mg |Pab, 

though it is not in the list of pieces selected for com- 
parison in this work. 

SIBILO SIGNUM DA. 
Alex. Whamonu. 

Sibilo signum da, care puer mi ; 
Sibilo signum da, adveniam te ; 
Omnes furant, et mater paterque, 
Sibilo signum da, adveniam te. 

Cave quum ad me petendam ades, 
Ni fores aperti, domum ne in tres ; 
Per portam posticam hue veni ad me 
Et cave ne videat aliquis te, 
Et cave ne videat aliquis te. 
Sibilo signum da, etc. 



O, WHISTLE AND VLL COME TO YOU, MY LAD 551 

Ad templum, mercatum, si convenis me, 
Praetereas quasi sim nihil ad te ; 
Sed furtive fac ut micent oculi, 
£t adspice quasi non videas me, 
£t adspice quasi non videas me. 
Sibilo signum da, etc. 

Nega semper me esse caram tibi, 
Et formam meam te habere fiocci ; 
Ne alteram pete ; nam timeo ne 
Amorem per dolum avertat a me, 
Amorem per dolum avertat a me. 
Sibilo signum da, etc. 

Of the other versions, "Willie brew'd," by Lindsay 
Alexander; "John Anderson," by Father Prout and by 
Benj. Hall Kennedy ; and ** Scots, wha hae," by Francis 
W. Newman, are all very interesting productions; but as 
they are rather classical imitations than actual transla- 
tions, I do not think it necessary to reproduce them 
here. Indeed, the utility, or even the very raison d'Hre^ 
of these Latin translations may be questioned. Mr. 
Whamond seems to hope they may be sung in this classic 
tongue. Doubtless this might be useful to students, and 
the songs would rank higher than many which are popular 
at their gatherings. Mr. Leighton, in an interesting pre- 
face, points out how they may be useful in many ways. 
Be all that as it may, the versions which these two 
gentlemen have given, in spite of the slight defects I 
have made free to suggest, are creditable to their learning 
and to their patriotic feeling, and must prove gratifying 
alike to the lover of Burns and to the classical student 



POST SCRIPTUM. 

I CANNOT conclude my work without most sincerely 
thanking the numerous friends, both at home and abroad, 
for the kind and enthusiastic manner in which they have 
afforded me their valuable assistance. 

Without their aid in securing translations which were 
difiicult to obtain, in assisting me with the translations of 
tongues with which I am not sufficiently conversant, and 
in unwearied revisions of proofs, the book could not have 
appeared in so complete a form. I can sincerely employ 
the words which Wordsworth used in one of his most 
popular pieces — 

** . . . Half of it was theirs ^ and one half of it was mine." 

This aid having been given me by friends from St Peters- 
burg and Moscow in the east to Glasgow and Edinburgh 
in the west, and from Christiania and Stockholm in the 
north to Rome and Barcelona in the south, their number 
is too great to permit me expressing my thanks to each 
by name; I can only assure one and all of my deep 
appreciation of their kindness, and that should any 
occasion arise it will gratify me exceedingly to be allowed 
the opportunity of reciprocating their courtesy. 

WILLIAM JACKS. 
Glasgow, January^ 1896. 



552 



INDEX OF TRANSLATORS. 



Angelliek. Auguste (French) — 
361, 408 to 424, 430. 
A man's a man for a' that, 431. 
Coming through the rye, 430. 
Flow gently, sweet Afton, 434. 
John Anderson, my jo, 425. 
TTiere was a lad, 427. 
To Mary in heaven, 432. 
Willie brew*d a peck o' maut, 428. 

Anonymous (Irish Gaelic)— 
Auld lang syne, 50a 
Scots, wba hac, 499. 

Anonymous (Russian) — 

356. 
John Anderson, 357. 

To a daisy, 354. 

To a mouse. 352. 

Anonymous (Stoedishy- 

A man's a man for a' that, 185. 

A red, red rose, 193. 

Auld lang syne, 188. 

Flow gently, sweet Afton, 190. 

lohn Anderson, my jo, 196. 

My Nannie's awa, 189. 

Naebody, 196. 

Ofa' the airts the wind can blaw, 194. 

O wert thou in the cauld blast, 192. 

Scots, wha hae, 187. 

Anonymous ( Welsh)— 

A man's a man for a' that, 525. 
Scots, wha hae, 528. 

BaisCH, Otto (Gertnan}— 

85. 87. 90, 93. 97. loa. 105. 107. 
113, 121, 128, 132, 143, 152. 

O wert thou in the cauld blast, 1 12. 

Bartsch, K. (German) — 

72, 79, 87, 90, 97, 120, 133. 146, 

A red, red rose, 114. 
Auld L'mg syne, 88. 



I Bartsch, K. — Continued, 
Duncan Gray, 134. 
Flow gentlv, sweet Afton, iia 
I hae a wife o' my ain, 141. 
Last May a braw wooer, 138. 
Man was made to mourn, 28. 
Mary Morison, 103. 
My Nannie's awa, 105. 
Of a' the airts the wind can blaw, 

X16. 
To Mary in heaven, 129. 
Whistle owre the lave o't, 142. 
Willie brew'd a peck o' maut. 91. 
Willie WasUe. 144. 

Caralis, Mr. (Danish and Nor- 
wegian)r- 
Flow gently, sweet Afton, 180. 
I hae a wife o' my ain (Naebody), 

172. 
John Anderson, my jo, 183. 
John Barleycorn, 178. 
Of a' the airts (My Jean), 173. 
O wert thou in the cauld blast, 182. 
To a daisy, 170. 
To a mouse. 176. 

CoKRODi, August (Swiss-German)— 
A man's a man for a* that, 158. 
A red, red rose, i6a. 
Auld lang syne. i6a 
Coming through the rye, 165. 
Duncan Gray, 162. 
John Anderson, my jo, 166. 
To Mary in heaven, 167. y 

Whistle owre the lave o't, 164. 

Davies, J. C. ( Welsh)- 
To a mountain daisy, 52a. 

Ddu, Daniel ( Welsh)— 
Highland Mary, 528. 

Dk Cort. F. (Dutch and Flemish)— 
A man's a man for a' that, 199. 
A red, red rose, 205. 

553 




554 



INDEX OF TRANSLATORS 



De Cort, F. — Continued, 
Bonnie Mary. 206. 
Duncan Grav, 209. 
I haeawifeo myain (Naebody),2i5 
John Anderson, my jo, 208. 
John Barleycorn, 203. 
Of a'theairts the wind can blaw, 207. 
O Philly, happy be that day, 219. 
The braw wooer, 213. 
To Mary in heaven, 2x7. 

De la Madelaine, R. {Fren^A)— 
Miscellaneous, 400 to 408. 

De Lisle, Leconte [French) — 
Rigs o' barley, 360. 

De Mont, P. {DuUh and FUmish)— 
The cottar's Saturday night, 330. 

De Wailly, Leon [French)— 

361. 371. 37a. 373. 374. 402, 436, 

437. 438. 458. 465. 470. 472, 

473. 477. 480, 483. 
A red, red rose, 399. 
Auld lang syne, 391. - 
Duncan Gray, 394. 
John Barleycorn, 362. 
Last May a braw wooer, 393. 
Marv Morison, 392. 
Mv Nannie's awa', 393. 
Of a' the airts, 395. 
O wert thou in the cauld blast, 40a 
Scots, wha hae, 39a 
Tam o' Shanter, 365. 
The cottar's Saturday night, 374. 
The jolly beggars, 38a 
To a mountain daisy, 397. 
To a mouse, 396. 

Fkkiligrath, Fekd. {German) — 
A red, red rose, 114. 
John Anderson, my jo, 124. 
O wert thou in the cauld blast, 113. 

KOSTOMAROFF, V. {Russian)— 

327- 
Tam o Shanter, 342. 

Laun, Adolf {German) — 

3, 22, 79. 85. 87. 90, 93. 98. lOI, 
105. 107, 120, 127, 141. 145. 
Gae fetch to me a pint o' wine. 115. 
Man was made to mourn. 26. 
The cottar's Saturday night, 16. 
There was a lad was bom in Kyle, 

154. 
To a daisy, 80. 

To a mouse, 74. 

Ye banks and braes o' bonnie 
Doon, 117. 



Legerlotz, Gustav {Germun)— 
78. 84, 113, 128, 133. 138. u 

143. 150- 
A man's a man for a* that, 82. 

Duncan Gray. 135. 

Last May a braw wooer. 139. 

Mary Morison, 104. 

The exciseman, 155. 

Leighton, Alexander [ImUm)-- 
A man's a man for a' that, 532. 
Duncan Gray, 538. 
Green grow the rashes. O, 537. 
I am a son of Mars. 541. 
I hae a wife o' my ain, 544. 
Last May a braw wooer. 543. 
My Nannie, O, 542. 
Scots, wha hae, 534. 
To Marv in heaven. 5^9. 
Willie brew'd a pc^dc o* maui 

535. 
LfevAY, Jozsep [Hungarian)— 

A man's a man for a' that, 3x3. 

A red, red rose, 331. 
^^Auld lang syne, 316. 

Duncan Gray, 324. 

Flow gently, sweet Afton, 319. 

John Anderson, 321. 

Marv Morison, 3x8. 

My Nannie's awa. 317. 

O wert thou in the cauld bias 

320. 
Scots, wha hae, 3x5. 
Tam o' Shanter, 396. 
The cottar's Saturday night, 39a 
The twa dogs, 303. 
To a mouse. 311. 
To Mary in heaven, 323. 

Livingstone, W. [Scoitisk Gaelicy 
John Barleycorn. 495. 
Of a'theairts, 493. 

MacIntyre, Rev. Angus {Scotti 
Gaeli4:)- 
Scots, wha hae, 488. 

MacIntyre. Rev. Dr. ("Abrach 
[Scottish Gaelic)— 
Highland Mary. 491. 

Mackechnie, a. (Scotiisk Garlic) 
To Mary in heaven. 490. 
Willie brew'd a peck o* maut, 481 

Macphail, D. [Scottish Gaelic)— 
Afton Water, 493. 

MlBDEMA, M. [Frisian) — 

A man's a man for a* that. 251. 
John Anderson, ray jo. 350. 



INDEX OF TRANSLATORS 



555 



Ortensi, Ulisse {/taiian)— 
Auld lang syne, 473. 
Death and Doctor Hornbook, 465. 
Duncan Gray, 480. 
John Barleycorn, 475. 
Man was made to mourn, 443. 
Mary Morison, 477. 
Scots, wha hae, 473. 
Tarn o' Shanter. 458. 
The cottar's Saturday nij^ht. 437. 
The jolly b^gars, 446. 
There was a lad was bom in Kyle 

(Robin), 481. 
To a mouse, 470. 
To Mary in heaven, 478. 
Ye banlcs and braes, 478. 

OwKN, Robert ( Welsh)— 

The cottar's Saturday night, 50a. 

POTGIETER, E. J. (Dutch and FUm- 
ish}— 
A man's a man for a' that. 232. 

iohn Anderson, my jo, 231. 
ifary Morison, 234. 

Reitz, F. W. {African Dutch)— 
Duncan Gray, 248. 
Tani o' Shanter, 245. 
The cottar's Saturday night. 242. 

RUETE. Edmund {German)— 

I. 32. 59. 74. 77 > 91. "o. 123, 
125, 147, 151. 
A man's a man for a' that, 83. 
Auld lang S3me, 89. 
Flow gently, sweet Afton. in. 
Green grow the rashes, O. 148. 
John Barleycorn, 94. 
My Nannie, O, 99. 
O Willie brew'd a peck o' maut, 92. 
Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, 86. 
Tam o* Shanter, 51. 
The jolly beggars, 34. 
The twa dogs, 65. 

SILBERGLEIT, L. G. {Gertnan)— 

a, 7, 21, 24, 44, 57, 61, 71, 76. 

87. 93. lO". 108. 124, 131, 

X33. »47. 
Green grow the rashes, O, 149. 

John Anderson, my jo, 122. 

The cottar's Saturday night, ix. 

SlXdek, Jos. V. {Bohemian or Czech)^ 
Afton Water, 283. 
A man's a man (or a' that, 378. 



Sladek, Jos. v,^ContiMved, 
A mountain daisy, 270. 
A red, red rose, 384. 
Auld lang syne, 280. 
Coming through the rye. 287. 
Duncan Gray, 275, 

John Anderson, my jo, 287. 
iarv Morison, 282. 
My Nannie, O. 381. 
Naebody. 286. 
Of a' the airts the wind can blaw, 

28^. 
O Willie brew'd a peck o' maut, 

272. 
Scots, wha hae, 379. 
Tam o' Shanter, 261. 
The braw wooer, 273. 
The cauld blast. 284. 
The cottar's Saturday night, 256. 
The exciseman, 277. 
To a mouse. 269. 
To Mary in heaven, 288. 

Talhaiarn ( Welsh) — 
Tam o' Shanter, 510. 

Tollens. H. {Dutch and Flemish) — 
Wandering Willie, 340. 

Van Lennep, J. {Dutch and 
Flemish)- 
My Nannie. O, 239. 
Naebody. 340. 
The cotuir's Saturday night. 335. 

Weinberg. P. {Russian) — 
The jolly beggars, 333. 

Whamond, Alex. {Latin)— 
A Highland lad. 546. 
Duncan Gray, 547. 
John Anderson, my jo, 549. 
O whistle and I'll come to you, my 

lad. 550. 
Scots, wha hae, 545. 
Ye banks and braes o'bonnieDoon, 

550. 

Whyte. Henry (" Fionn") (Scottish 
Gaelic) — 
Auld lang sync, 498. 
Whistle and 111 come to you, my 
lad, 497. 

Winter feld, A. v. {German)— 

46, 87, 90, 93, 102, 109, 119, 
121, 125, 136, 138, 141. 



A^<y//.— Pages ai, a8, 73, 79, for "Robert Bartsch" read " K. Bartich.' 
Page 78, for " L. Legcrlotz " read " G. Legcrlou." 



INDEX OF POEMS AND SONGS. 



Address to the Deil. 422. 

Afton water: see under Flow gently, 
sweet Afton. 

Auld lang syne, 87. 

Bohemian or Czeck^ Sladek, 280. 
French, de Wailly, 391. 
German, Bartsch, 88. 

Ruete, 89. 
Hungarian^ L^vay, 316. 
Irish Gaelic, Anonymous, 500. 
Italian, Ortensi, 473. 
Scottish Gaelic, Whyte(" Fionn"), 

498. 
Swedish, Anonymous, 188. 
Svnss German, Corrodi, i6a 

Bonnie Mary : see under Gae fetch to 
me a pint o' wine. 

Braw wooer. The : see under Last 
May a braw wooer, 

Ca' the yowes to the knowes, 430. 

Cauld blast, The: see under O wert 
thou in the cauld blast. 

Coming through the rye. 

Bohemian or Czech, SlAdek, 287. 
French, Angel Her, 430. 
Swiss German, Corrodi, 165, 

Cottar's Saturday Night. The, 2, 327, 
401, 415. 
African Dutch, Reitz, 242. 
Bohemian or Czech, Slddek, 256. 
Dutch and Flemish, de Mont, 220. 

van I^nncp, 235. 
French, Angellier, 415. 
de Wailly, 374. 
German, Laun, 16. 



Cottar's Saturday Night, The. -Con, 
German, Silbergleit, 11. 
H unitarian, L^vay, 29a 
Italian, Ortensi, 437. 
Welsh, Owen, 504. 

Death and Doctor Hornbook, 57, 37a, 
403, 416. 
Italian, Ortensi, 465. 

Death and dying words of poor Mailie, 
422, 430. 

Duncan Gray, 130. 

African Dutch, Reitz, 248. 
Bohemian or Czech, Slddek, 275. 
Dutch and Flemish, de Cort, 209. 
French, de Wailly, 394. 
German, Bartsch, 134. 

Legerlotz, 135. 
Hungarian, L^vay, 324, 
Italian, Ortensi, 480. 
Latin, Leighton, 538. 

Whamond, 547. 
Swiss German, Coixodi, 16a. 

Exciseman, The. 

Bohemian or Czech, Slddek, 277. 
German, Legerlotz, 155. 

Flow gently, sweet Afton, 107, 405. 
Bohemian or Czech, Sldddc, 283. 
Danish and Norwegian, Caralis, 

180. 
French, Angellier, 424. 
German, Baurtsch, iia 

Ruete, III. 
Hungarian, lj6vsiy, 319. 
Scottish Gaelic, MacPlwil, 492. 
Swedish, Anonymous, 190. 

For a' that : su under A man's a man 
for a' that. 



557 



558 



INDEX OF POEMS AND SONGS 



Ciae fetch to me a pint o' wine (My 
bonnie Maiy). 
Dutch and Flemish, de Cort, 206. 
German^ Laun, 115. 

Green grow the rashes. O, 145, 
German^ Ruete, 148. 

Silbergleit, 149. 
Latin t Lcighton, 537. 

Highland lad, A. 

Latin^ Whaniond, 546. 

Highland Mary. 

Scottish Gaelic, Maclntyre 

("Abrach"), 491. 
Welsh, Ddu, 528. 

I am a son of Mars {from The jolly 
beggars). 
Latin, Leighton, 541. 

I hae a wife o' my ain (Naebody), 
141. 
Bohemian or Czech, SIddek, 286. 
Danish and Norwegian, Caralis, 

172. 
Dutch and Flemish, de Cort, 215. 
van Lennep, 24a 
German, Bartsch, 141. 
iMtin, Leighton, 544. 
Swedish, Anonymous, 197, 

John Anderson, my jo, 118. 

Bohemian or Czech, S14dek, 287. 
Danish and Norwegian, Caralis, 

183. 
Dutch and Flemish, de Cort, 208. 

Potgieter, 231. 
French, Angellier, 425. 
Frisian, Miedema. 25a 
German, l>ilbergleit, 122. 
Freiligralh, 124. 
Hungarian, L^vay, 321. 
Latin, Whamond, 549. 
Russian, Anonymous, 357. 
Swedish, Anonymous, 196. 
Swiss German, Corrodi, 165. 

John Barleycorn, 93, 356. 

Danish and Norwegian, Caralis, 

178. 
Dutch and Flemish, de Cort, 

202. 
French, de Wailly, 362. 
German, Ruete, 94. 
Italian, Ortensi, 47^. 
Scottish Gaelic, Livmgstone, 495. 



Jolly beggars. The. 31, S4i. 
French, de Wailly, 380^ 
German, Ruete. 34. 
Italian, Ortensi, 446. 
Russian, Weinberg, 33a 

Last May a braw wooer, 136^ 

Bohemian or Czech, Sl^dek, 273. 
Dutch and Flemish, de Cort, 213 
French, de Wailly, 393. 
German, Bartsch, 138. 

Legerlotz, 139. 
Latin, Leighton, 543. 

Man's a man for a* that, A. 

Bohemian or Czech, SIddek. 278. 
Dutch and Flemish, de Cort, 199. 

Potgieter, 23: 
French, Angellier, 431. 
Frisian, Miedema, 251. 
German, Legerlotz, 82. 

Ruete. 83. 
Hungarian. L^vay, 313. 
Latin, leighton, 532. 
Swedish, Anonymous. 185. 
Swiss German, Corrodi, 158. 
Welsh, Anonymous, 525. 

Man was made to mourn, 21. 
German, Laun, 26. 

Bartsch. 28. 
Italian, Ortensi, 443. 

Mary Morison, 100, 373. 

Bohemian or Czech, S14dek, 262. 
Dutch and Flemish. Potgieter, 234 
French^ de Wailly, 39a. 
German, Bartsch. 103. 

L^erlotz, 104. 
Hungarian, L^vay, 318. 
Italian, Ortensi, 477. 

Mountain daisy, A : see under To ; 
daisy. 

My Nannie's awa, 115. 
French, de Wailly, 39a. 
German, Bartsch, 105. 

Various writers, 106. 
Hungarian, Levay, 317. 
Swedish, Anonymous. 189. 

My Nannie, O, 97. 

Bohemian or Czech, Sl&dek, 381. 
Dutch and Flemish, van Lennej 

239. 
German, Ruete, 99. 

Latin, leighton, 543. 



INDEX OF POEMS AND SONGS 



559 



Naebody: see under I hae a wife o' 
my ain. 

O Philly, happy be that day. 

Dutch and Flemish^ de Cort. 319. 

O wert thou in the cauld blast, iii. 
Bohemian or Czechs Slddek, 384. 
Danish and Norwegian, Caralis, 

183. 
French, de Wailly, 40a 
German, Freilierath, 113. 

Baiscn, 113. 
Hungarian, Levay, 320. 
Swedish, Anonymous, 193. 

O Willie brew'd a peck o' maut, 90. 
Bohemian or Czech, Slddek, 373. 
French, Angellier, 438. 
German, Bautsch, 91. 

Ruete, 93. 
Latin, I^ighton, 535. 
Scottish Gaelic, Mackechnie, 489. 

Of a' the airts the wind can blaw, 115. 
Bohemian or Czech, SlAdek, 385. 
Danish and Norwegian, Caralis, 

173. 
Dutch and Flemish, de Cort, 307. 

French, de Wailly, 395. 

German, Bartsch, 116. 

Scottish Gaelic, Livingstone, 493. 

Swedish, Anonymous, 194. 

Red, red rose. A, 113. 

Bohemian or Czech, Slddek, 384. 
Dutch and Flemish, de Cort, 305. 
French, de Wailly, 399. 
German, Bartsch, 114. 

Freiligrath, 114. 
Hungarian, Levay, 331. 
Swedish, Anonymous, 193. 
Swiss German, Corrodi, 163. 

Rigs o' barley. 

French, de Lisle, 360. 

Robin : see under There was a lad 
was bom in Kyle. 

Scots, wha hae wi* Wallace bled, 84, 

ADA. 

Bohemian or Czech, Slddek, 279. 
French^ de Wailly, 390. 

de la Madelaine, 404. 
German, Ruete, 86. 
Hun^arian^ L^vay, 315. 
Irish Gaelic^ Anonymous, 499. 



Scots, wha hae wi* Wallace bled. — Con, 
Italian, Ortensi, 473. 
Latin^ Leighton, 534. 

Whamond, 545. 
Scottish Gaelic, Maclntyre, 488. 
Swedish, Anonymous, 187. 
Welsh, Anonymous, 537, 

Tam o' Shanter, 44, 403, 419. 
African Dutch, Reitz, 345. 
Bohemian or Czech, Slddek, 361. 
French, de Wailly, 364. 
German, Ruete, 51. 
Hungarian, L^vay, 396. 
Italian, Ortensi, 458. 
Russian, Kostomaroff, 343. 
Welsh, Talhaiam, 51a 

There was a lad was bom in Kyle 
(Robin), iTO. 
French, Angellier, 437. 
Gertnan, Laun, 154. 
Italian, Ortensi, 481. 

To a daisy, 76, 433. 

Bohemian or Czech, Slddek, 370. 
Danish and Norwegian, Caralis, 

17a 
French, de Wailly, 397. 
German, Laim. 80. 
Russian, Anonymous, 354. 
Welsh, Davies, 533. 

To a mouse, 71. 

Bohemian or Czech, Slddek, 369. 
Danish and Norwegian, Caralis. 

176. 
French, de Wailly, 396. 
German, Laun, 74. 
Hungarian, L^vay, 311. 
Italian, Ortensi, 47a 
Russian, Anonymous. 353, 

To Mary in heaven, 134. 

Bohemian or Czech, Slddek. 388. 
Dutch and Flemish, de Cort, 

317. 
French, Angellier, 433. 
German, Bartsch. 139. 
Hungarian, L^vay. 333. 
Italian, Ortensi, 479. 
Latin, Leighton, 539. 
Scottish Gaelic, Mackechnie, 490. 
Siuiss German, Corrodi, 167. 

Twa dogs. The, w, 403, 418. 
French, Angellier, 418, 

de la Madelaine, 403. 



56o 



INDEX OF POEMS AND SONGS 



Twa dogs, 'Wnt.—ConHnuetL. 
GermoM, Ruete, 65. 

Silbo^leit, 61. 
Humgariam, \jtwf, 303. 

Wandering Willie. 

DuUh and Flemish, ToUens. 
24a 

Whistle owre the lave o't, 331. 
German, Bartsch, 142. 
Swiss German, Corrodi, 164. 



Whistle and 111 cooie to tdu. iht hd. 
Latin, Wbainoad, cyx 
ScoitisA Gaelic, Whyte (** Fionn ). 
497. 

WiDie WasUe. 142. 

Gerwutn, Bartsch. 144. 

Ye banks and braes o* bonnie I>ooo. 
German, Laun. 117. 
Italian^ Ortensi. 478. 
Latin, Wliamond. 5501 



GLASGOW! PRINTED AT THB UNIVERSITY PRKSS BY ROBERT MACI.BIfOSE AHO COw 



WORK BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 

Lessing's Nathan the Wise. Translated by 

William Jacks. With an Introduction by Arch- 
deacon Farrar, and Eight Etchings by William 
Strang. Fcap. Svo. Price 53. net. 

OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 

The Scots Magazine — "The whole work is well done, and 
once more one of the most popular of Lessing's works is put 
within reach of the ordinary reader in a style which is sure to 
arrest and sustain the most interested attention." 

The Bookieller — " He has caught the spirit of the drama, 
and his English in certain passages attains real dignity of 
expression and depth of feeling." 

Fairplay — " Mr. William Jacks has many friends, and to 
many of them it has been a matter of surprise thai he should 
ever have taken the trouble to go into Parliament— the murder 
is out — the object, beyond of course voting according to bis 
conscience, was to tind time to carry out an important literary 
work on which for vears he had set his mina. . . . Un- 
doubtedly Nathan the Win is a great work, and Mr. Jacks, by 
means of his translation, has presented it to his countrymen in a 
form that will be acceptable everywhere." 

Tht Scotsman — "Turning 10 this translation, Archdeacon 
Farrar's praise of it as 'vigorous and lucid' can be ftiUy endorsed. 
Many passages have been rendered with great freedom, spirit, 
and even grace." 

Glasgotv HiralH—" Nathan the Wise has found in William 
Jacks, M. P., its first Scots renderer into English. Archdeacon 



Farrar, who contributes a biographical and critical introduction, 
remarks that * if, as some have said, there is a marked affinity 
between the Scots and the German intellect, perhaps it may 
reveal itself in Mr. Jacks* version.' The reader of this transla- 
tion of Lessing's famous work may therefore rest pretty well 
assured that he is getting the mind of the author, not that of the 
translator. It is rather interesting to find that we owe Mr. 
Jacks* work, partly at least, to one of the weaknesses — some 
would say follies— of our Parliamentary system. Mr. Jacks had 
formed the intention of translating the book, but it was only 
after re-entering Parliament that he found time to tackle the 
work. Like many other business men in the House, he suffered 
from the ^nnui of listening to the repetition of arguments in 
debates already practically concluded, and he found reliei* in 
pursuing his literary scheme. From this it may be inferred that 
the * bores ' in the House of Commons are not entirely unproht- 
able. Of course Mr. Jacks did not carry on the process of 
translation in Parliament, but the windbags deserve a vote of 
thanks for enabling him to give us so striking a piece of literary 
work, which is more valuable than many Acts of Parliament 
It is more than a hundred years since Nathan the Wise was 
first published ; there have been several English versions ; so 
that among those who care for the higher drama its plot and 
moral purpose must be pretty well known in this country. 
Anything, therefore, like a sketch is really unnecessary. But 
if it were possible to condense the spirit of a drama into a single 
sentence, it would be that expressed by an appreciative modem 
critic to the effect that Nathan the Wise is * one of the noblest 
pleas for tolerant humanity ever penned.' That is a true saying; 
and those who may have the privilege of making a careful study 
of Mr. Jacks' translation will understand how true it is. One 
of the passages in which Mr. Jacks has been most successful is 
Nathan's Apologue of the Rings. Nothing could be finer. The 
work is adorned with a portrait of Lessing, and by a series of 
characteristic illustrations by William Strang. Aplart from its 
literary value the volume is a handsome one." 

North British Daily Mail-^^'Ur, William Jacks, M.P., has 
given us in this volume a fine translation of Lessing's noble 
drama. A Parliamentary career has often made men lay aside 
literary work they would otherwise have accomplished. It is 
pleasant to find that for once the duty of attending the House 
of Commons has actually assisted at least in the production of 
a good book. The member for Stirlingshire tells us that some 
years ago he formed the intention of translating this work of 
Lessing s whenever he had sufficient leisure. * After re-entering 
Parliament, and experiencing what so many business men do 
experience— the ennui of listening to the repetition of arguments 
in debates already practically concluded — I found relief in 



employing some of thai lime and other spare moments in 

carrying out my purpose.' We have tlie result in this volume, 
for which Mr, William Slrang has designed a number of 
etchings, and Archdeacon Farrar has written an essay on 
Lessing and his work. This, it may be said, is an admirable 
introduction, giving in brief compass a highly appreciative 
notice of the man and of this dramatic poem of his old age. 
It is hardly necessary to say that Nathantke Wise is a poweiful 

Elea for religious toleration, and that lime has proved that its 
igh qualities as a work of art, as well as ' the solemn and 
quiet beauty' which marks it, will continue to secure to It the 
position it holds as one of the masterpieces of German litera- 
ture. Of Nathan himself Archdeacon Farrar happily remarks 
that he is a ' Marcus Aurelius without the overwhelming sadness 
of a saintly Emperor.' The translation which Mr. Jacks has 
executed, not the first by any means, is certainly one of the most 
spirited and most pleasant to read. After all, the best test In 
such a case will be found in the power of any version to sustain 
the reader's interest as if he were reading an original poem, 
and not a rendering into another language. It is not too much 
to say that this version has that power in a high degree. No 
one who reads it, and thus for the tirst time makes acquaintance 
with Lessing's work, will fail to carry away with him an abiding 
impression of its fine tone and artistic beauty. ... A 
comparison of this with other versions (we have taken as the 
first to hand those of Taylor and Willis) would show that this 
latest one is not the least vigorous. Mr. Jacks deserves to 
have the thanks of many readers for the pleasure to be had 
from his pages." 

Evening Times—'' Many excellent books have been written 
by n on -professional lilleraieurs, and one other has now to be 
added to the list. This is a new translation of Lessing's Nalkitrt 
the Wise, by William Jacks, M.P. The announcement will 
come as a surprise to the general public ; and probably only 
a few of Mr. Jacks' more intimate acquaintances were aware 
of the character of the work with which he was relieving the 
monotony of a most tn'ing session of Parli.iment, Of course, 
while Mr. Jacks is not a professional maker of books, he has 
not been a fruitless student of literature in its larger areas; 
and this fine translation of Lessing's masteipiece is an example 
of literary industry which might well be taken as an example 
by a few other members of Parliament with profit to themselves, 
if not to their special constituencies, and the whole country. 
Mr. Jacks is to be congratulated on the completion of his 
labour, which is altogetlicr creditable to his judgment and 
scholarly taste." 

h'ortk-Easlcrn Daily (7iir/tt-—" Mr. Jacks' achievement is a 



telling protest against the wasteful and shameful obstruction and 
waste of public time that prevail at Westminster, where wc 
need more men of the Nehemiah-like temperament, with one 
hand grasping the sword, and with the other building the wall 
It is, however, entitled to commendation on literary as well as 
on political grounds. To a practical man, accustomed to do his 
daily work honestly and with all his might, yet in love with 
literature, such as the member for Stirlingshire is known to 
be, the translation of Nathan the Wise in the circumstances 
described, must have been a most pleasing task : 

' Absence of occupation is not rest, 
A mind quite vacant is a mind distrest.' 

And in translating the poem for English readers he must have 
experienced the double satisfaction that comes from the employ- 
ment of leisure spent in a way agreeable to one's own tastes, 
yet productive of pleasure to others. For Nathan the Wise is a 
noble literary work, and its beautiful impressive plea for religious 
toleration has not yet lost either its power or its need. . . . 
Mr. Jacks has been attracted by an mspiring and an elevating 
theme, and the presentation of that theme in its English dress 
is worthy of the pen of a master of letters. Archdeacon 
Farrar, in an introductory essay, remarks that ' if, as some have 
said, there is a marked affinity between the Scots and the 
German intellect, perhaps it may reveal itself in Mr. Jacks* 
version.' Mr. Jacks' translation exhibits a higher quality than 
that suggested by Dr. Farrar. It tells of a remarkable command 
of English as well as of German. It combines a graceful effect- 
iveness with accuracy, and is well fitted to assist the great 
German poet and critic to a sympathetic and appreciative hear- 
ing in England." 

Glasgow Weekly Citizen— ^^ The book is remarkable in many 
ways, . . . above all it is a faithful and honest translation 
of a remarkable work which created no small stir in the world 
somewhere about a century ago. . . . Lessing's subtle 
thoughts flit rapidly ; they are expressed in terse and epigram- 
matic terms, as when he makes the Dervish talk of men who 
play the rich man's r6le : 

' Or were as quickly to be changed 
From richest beggar to a poor rich man.' 

A still better example of the author and the style adopted by 
the translator is found in the lines, again of an epigrammatic 
turn : 

' The case is bad indeed 

When princes are like vultures amongst carcases, 
But when they're carcases amongst the vultures 
The case is ten times worse,' 



As a formulation of pure theology, freed from dogmatism, the 
teaching of Lessing is invaluable, and while it might impair the 
digestions of the theologians who existed in Germany while its 
author lived, it will be cherished in the wider sphere of thought 
which prevails amongst those who are now aadressed by Mr. 
Jacks." 

TMe Kilmarrwck Htrald—" It is greatly to the credit of Mr. 
Jacks that be devoted great and loving industry to the work of 
interpreting Nathan the Wise. He says in a preface that 'after 
re-entering Parliament, and experiencing what so many business 
men do experience, the ennui of listening to the repetition of 
amiments in debates already practically concludea, I found 
relief in employing some of that time and other spare moments 
in carrving out my purpose.' All who are unable to read the 
original will find much pleasure in a perusal of this translation. 
A faithful reflek of Lessing's meaning has been given, and the 
translator has wisely freed himself from the rigid rules erf 
dramatic versification. We should advise all to secure a copy 
of the work. The letterpress and general gel-up of the volume 
are excellent, and it contains a number of clever illustrations." 

The Stirling Sentinel— ^^ No small meed of praise is due to 
Mr. Jacks' perfbrmance. It is an admirable effort, a work, as 
Archdeacon Farrar in his introduction justly says, of loving and 
faithful industry. Close criticism of the merits of the version 
would be misplaced, considering the circumstances under which 
it was written ; but although the translation is often rugged, and 
no attempt is made to imitate the elegant five-footed Iambics of 
the original, it must be pronounced a laudable and successful 
reproduction of a great piece." 

Liverpool Merairy — "Nathan (he Wise, a dramatic poem in 
five acts, by G. E. Lessing. Translated by William Jacks. 
Introduction by Archdeacon Farrar. Etchings by William 



render into classic English this German classic is a distinct 
gain to our literature, and all praise is due to Mr. William 
Jacks, who has so skilfully done this work. The introduction, 
while giving an interesting sketch of the life of the illustrious 
Lessing, also materially assists the reader in more perfectly 
understanding the deep theological discussion which is the 
central idea of the drama. Of the theology there will of course 
be different opinions, but the principal character is undoubtedly 
almost perfectly conceived, and re()resents a supremely noble 
Jew. The beauty of the construction and the literary merit 
of the play are too well known to need further comment. 
Etchings of a very artistic order are scattered throughout the 



Berwickshire News — "Talk as people may, the really busy 
man is the man who can find time for anything — perhaps the 
busy Border Man more than any other. Take for instance 
Mr. William Jacks, M.P. for Stirlingshire. Mr. Jacks is a 
typical Border Man, he has been included in the Berwickshire 
News series of Border Men, and the readers of the recent 
sketch of the gentleman in the county newspaper know well 
what a really busy man he is. From his earliest days he kept 
a strict eye on Time, and he has certainly made the most of 
that fickle old party. Mr. Jacks, thanks to his unwearied 
industry and patient study, has developed such intellectual 
power as has put him in the forefront of Britain's men of 
business, and which now bids fair to place him on an exalted 
rung on the dangerous ladder of literature. Only literary men 
know what a strange taskmaster literature is, and it is vastiy 
to the credit of Mr. Jacks that he has come out of the fray so 
grandly. As we have said he is among the leading merchants 
of Great Britain, he is also a worthy commoner of the land, 
and many men could be spared from St. Stephens before 
William Jacks. Merchant and commoner, he is now a man 
of letters. Some time ago we announced to the public that 
Mr. Jacks was busy on a translation of Nathan the IVise, the 
famous German work of G. E. Lessing. This pure and elevating 
dramatic poem, in five acts, finds in Mr. Jacks the first Border 
Man, indeed the first Scotsman, who has rendered into English 
what is justly described as * one of the noblest pleas for tolerant 
humanity ever penned.' It will repay our readers to make 
a careful study of Mr. Jacks' labours ; few Border people will 
fail to do so." 

Dai/jf Free Press — " 'After re-entering Parliament,' says the 
author, * and experiencing what so many business men do 
experience — the ennui of listening to the repetition of arguments 
in debates already practically concluded — I found relief in 
employing some of that time, and other spare moments, in 
carrying out this work.' Such is the genesis of this latest 
version of Lessing's great poem. The translation is in verse, 
and the member for Stirlingshire is to be congratulated on 
having used so well the odd hours that are so easily frittered 
away. The drama itself is a mighty plea for religious toleration. 
Nathan, a noble Jew ; Saladin, a noble Mahomedan ; and the 
Templar, a faulty Christian, are the chief characters. By their 
several actions the dramatist aims at showing that goodness is not 
the monopoly of any religious body. The key-note of the whole 
play is, * Religion is a good heart and a good life.* Mr. Jacks 
has aimed at giving a faithful reflex of the author's meaning 
rather than at binding himself by the rig^d rules of dramatic 
versification. In this the * business man ' is again apparent 
The test of a good translation is its readableness in its new 



dress. Mr. Jacks finds little difRculty in passing his test. His 
lines are sometimes rough, sometimes bald, and sometimes 
barely poetry, but other parts a^ain arrest us by their terse 
vigour and bappy expression. Tbe book, in short, is a piece 
of honest work, and forms a pleasant rendering of a poem 
which is literature, and intrinsically valuable. Archdeacon 
Farrar writes a lucid and valuable introduction. The general 
gct-up of the volume is a credit to a Scots publishing bouse." 

Greenock Herald—" In his translation Mr. Jacks has not 
wandered from the original, and, in the words of Archdeacon 
Karrar, he will be found a pleasant and faithful inceipreier." 

The following from Professor Ruete is chosen from various 
foreign criticisms : 

" Welch ein slattlicher und vornehm ausgeslalteter Band ist 
Ihr Nathan lier IVeise.' Und wie getreu haben Sie das Original 
wiedergegeben ! 

" Man merkt bei der Lecture durchaus nicht, dass man eine 
Uebersetzung vor sich hat. Ueberall zeigt sich die UebevoUste 
Veniefung in die deutsehe Dichtung. 

" Hatten Sie Cewichl darauf gelegt den iambischen Vers, der 
Ihnen manchmal vorireffllch gelungen ist, iiberall wlederiu- 
geben, so wiirde man nach melnem Urtheil Ihr Werk den 
hcichsten Anforderungen gerechi werden. Vieileicht aber 
wiirden sich dann Worle and Gedanken nicht gam so getreu 
haben wiedereeben lassen. Es isl in der That ein ganz eigener 
(lenuss eine deutsehe Dichtung, die einem lieb und vertraut ist, 
einmal in einem treffllch siizenden fremden Gewande kennen lu 



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