As soon's the clockin-time is by, For my gowd guinea; Tho' I should herd the buckskin kye For't, in Virginia. Trowth, they had muckle for to blame! 'Twas neither broken wing nor limb, But twa-three draps about the wame Scarce thro' the feathers; An' baith a yellow George to claim, An' thole their blethers! It pits me ay as mad's a hare; When time's expedient: Meanwhile I am, respected Sir, Your most obedient. L. ON A SCOTCH BARD, GONE TO THE WEST INDIES. [Burns in this Poem, as well as in others, speaks openly of his tastes and passions: his own fortunes are dwelt on with painful minuteness, and his errors are recorded with the accuracy, but not the seriousness of the confessional. He seems to have been fond of taking himself to task. It was written when "Hungry ruin had him.in the wind," and emigration to the West Indies was the only refuge which he could think of, or his friends suggest, from the persecutions of fortune.] A' YE wha live by sowps o' drink, Come, mourn wi' me! An' owre the sea. Lament him a' ye rantin' core, For now he's taen anither shore, An' owre the sea! The bonnie lasses weel may wiss him, And in their dear petitions place him; The widows, wives, an' a' may bless him, Wi' tearfu' e'e; For weel I wat they'll sairly miss him. That's owre the sea! O Fortune, they hae room to grumble! But he was gleg as onie wumble, That's owre the sea! Auld, cantie Kyle may weepers wear, He saw Misfortune's cauld nor-west Ill may she be! So, took a birth afore the mast, An' owre the sea. To tremble under fortune's cummock, So, row't his hurdies in a hammock, He ne'er was gien to great misguiding, The muse was a' that he took pride in, Jamaica bodies, use him weel, He wad na wrang'd the vera deil, Fareweel, my rhyme-composing billie! LII. WRITTEN ON THE BLANK LEAF OF A COPY OF MY POEMS, PRESENTED TO AN OLD SWEETHEART, THEN MARRIED. [This is another of the poet's lamentations, at the prospect of "torrid climes" and the roars of the Atlantic To Burns, Scotland was the land of promise, the west of Scotland his paradise; and the land of dread, Jamaica! I found these lines copied by the poet into a volume which he presented to Dr. Geddes: they were addressed, it is thought, to the "Dear E." of his earliest correspondence.] ONCE fondly lov'd and still remember'd dear; Sweet early object of my youthful vows! place of peril, and on the West Indies as a charnel-house.] Accept this mark of friendship, warm, sincere,— I. FAREWELL, old Scotia's bleak domains, Far dearer than the torrid plains Where rich ananas blow! Farewell, a mother's blessing dear! A brother's sigh! a sister's tear! My Jean's heart-rending throe! Farewell, my Bess! tho' thou'rt bereft Of my parental care, A faithful brother I have left, My Smith, my bosom frien'; O then befriend my Jean! Friendship! 'tis all cold duty now allows. And when you read the simple artless rhymes, II. What bursting anguish tears my heart! It rustles, and whistles I'll never see thee more! LIII. A DEDICATION то GAVIN HAMILTON, ESQ. [The gentleman to whom these manly lines are addressed, was of good birth, and of an open and generous nature: he was one of the first of the gentry of the west to encourage the muse of Coila to stretch her wings at full length. His free life, and free speech, exposed him to the censures of that stern divine, Daddie Auld, who charged him with the sin of absenting himself from church for three successive days; for having, without the fear of God's servant before him, profanely said damn it, in his presence, and for having gallopped on Sunday. These charges were contemptuously dismissed by the presbyterial court. Hamilton was the brother of the Charlotte to whose charms, on the banks of Devon, Burns, it is said, paid the homage of a lover, as well as of a poet. The poem had a place in the Kilmarnock edition, but not as an express dedication.] EXPECT na, Sir, in this narration, Then when I'm tir'd—and sae are ye, Five bonnie lasses round their table, I will not wind a lang conclusion, But whilst your wishes and endeavours But if (which pow'rs above prevent) By sad mistakes and black mischances, The victim sad of fortune's strife, I, thro' the tender gushing tear, LIV. ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF ROBERT RUISSEAUX. [Cromek found these verses among the loose papers of Burns, and printed them in the Reliques. They contain a portion of the character of the poet, record his habitual carelessness in worldly affairs, and his desire to be distinguished.] Now Robin lies in his last lair, He'll gabble rhyme, nor sing nae mair, Nae mair shall fear him; Nor anxious fear, nor cankert care, E'er mair come near him. To tell the truth, they seldom fash't him, Except the moment that they crush't him; For sune as chance or fate had hush't 'em, Tho' e'er sae short, Then wi' a rhyme or song he lash't 'em, And thought it sport. Tho' he was bred to kintra wark, But tell him he was learned and clark, LV. LETTER TO JAMES TENNANT, OF GLENCONNER. [The west country farmer to whom this letter was sent, was a social man. The poet depended on his judg ment in the choice of a farm, when he resolved to quit the harp for the plough: but as Ellisland was his choice, his skill may be questioned.] AULD Comrade dear, and brither sinner, How do you this blae eastlin wind, To common sense they now appeal, What wives and wabsters see and feel. I pray and ponder butt the house, To cast my e'en up like a pyet, Sae shortly you shall see me bright, A burning and a shining light. LVI. My heart-warm love to guid auld Glen, My auld schoolfellow, preacher Willie, May he be dad, and Meg the mither, An' Lord, remember singing Sannock, An' her kind stars hae airted till her A good chiel wi' a pickle siller. Tell them, frae me, wi' chiels be cautious, Now fare ye weel, an' joy be wi' you, Sae I conclude, and quat my chanter, ROB THE RANTER. ON THE BIRTH OF A POSTHUMOUS CHILD. [From letters addressed by Burns to Mrs. Dunlop, it would appear that this "Sweet Flow'ret, pledge o’meik e love," was the only son of her daughter, Mrs. Henri, who had married a French gentleman. The mother soor for lowed the father to the grave: she died in the south of France, whither she had gone in search of health.] SWEET flow'ret, pledge o' meikle love, November hirples o'er the lea, Chill on thy lovely form; And gane, alas! the shelt'ring tree, Should shield thee frae the storm. May He who gives the rain to pour, And wings the blast to blaw, Protect thee frae the driving show'r, The bitter frost and snaw! May He, the friend of woe and want, Who heals life's various stounds, Protect and guard the mother-plant, And heal her cruel wounds! But late she flourish'd, rooted fast, Blest be thy bloom, thou lovely gem, Unscath'd by ruffian hand! And from thee many a parent stem Arise to deck our land! LVII. TO MISS CRUIKSHANK, A VERY YOUNG LADY. WRITTEN ON THE BLANK LEAF OF A BOOK, PRESENTED TO HER BY THE AUTHOR. [The beauteous rose-bud of this poem was one of the daughters of Mr. Cruikshank, a master in the High School of Edinburgh, at whose table Burns was a frequent guest during the year of hope which he spent in the northern metropolis.] |