They charm th' admiring gazer's sight, And sweetly tempt to taste them: Were Fortune lovely Peggy's foe, Ye powers of Honour, Love, and Truth, The destinies intend her: Still fan, the sweet connubial flame 1 A letter to Miss Kappeared, without date, in Cromek's volume; the song of Young Peggy, in Stewart's edition of Burns's Poems. Their connection and date, and the manner of the poet's acquaintance with the lady, are given on the authority of his sister, who has a tolerably clear recol lection of the circumstances. - The bard could little imagine the sad fate which was in reality in store for Young Peggy While this blooming creature of seventeen for she was no SCOTCH DRINK. "Gie him strong drink, until he wink, And liquor guid, to fire his bluid, That's prest wi' grief and care; Till he forgets his loves or debts, And minds his griefs no more." SOLOMON'S PROVERBS, xxxi. 6, 7. We have now to see Burns in a different mood. He was no lover of drink, but his social spirit had invested it with many interesting associations in his mind. Looking round for subjects, the poem of Fergusson, entitled Caller Water, seems to have suggested to him a similar strain on the artificial beverages of his native country. LET other poets raise a fracas 'Bout vines, and wines, and drucken Bacchus, And crabbit names and stories wrack us, And grate our lug: I sing the juice Scotch beare can mak us, In glass or jug. vex ear older - appeared to be followed and wooed by a most eligible lover the youthful representative of the oldest and richest family in Galloway-and thus in the fair way to a dignified position in life, the powers of Honour, Love, and Truth had already been outraged, and a train of circunstances commenced, which was to end in the loss of her good na ne and ber early death. LOX O thou, my Muse! guid auld Scotch drink, jink, Or, richly brown, ream o'er the brink, Inspire me, till I lisp and wink, To sing thy name! curling steal cream Let husky wheat the haughs adorn, valleys bearded And peas and beans, at e'en or morn, Perfume the plain, Leeze me on thee, John Barley My delight is in Or tumblin' in the boilin' flood Wi' kail and beef; But when thou pours thy strong heart's blood, There thou shines chief. Food fills the wame, and keeps us livin'; belly When heavy dragged wi' pine and grievin'; The wheels o' life gae down-hill scrievin', gliding Thou clears the head o' doited Lear; stupid Lors Thou even brightens dark Despair 1 Aft clad in massy siller weed, His wee drap parritch, or his bread, Thou art the life o' public haunts; relishest But thee, what were our fairs and rants? Without Even godly meetings o' the saunts, By thee inspired, When gaping they besiege the tents, That merry night we get the corn in, 1 As ale in silver mugs, at the tables of the wealthy 2 Brisk small beer is a favorite relish to porridge in Scot land. This humane passage redeems much that is objectionable in the poem. 8 Sitting round the movable pulpits erected in the open air at parochial celebrations of the communion Holy Fair. See notes to In cog or bicker, wooden vessels And just a wee drap sp'ritual burn in, And gusty sucker! When Vulcan gies his bellows breath, savory sugar froth And ploughmen gather wi' their graith, implements Then Burnewin comes on like death Nae mercy, then, for airn or steel; Till block and studdie ring and reel esred cup Blacksmith anvil When skirlin' weanies see the screaming infants light, Thou maks the gossips clatter bright, Wae worth the name! Nae howdie gets a social night, Or plack frae them. When neebors anger at a plea, And just as wud as wud can be, Cement the quarrel! fools midwife coin mad |