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Burns Poems & Songs of Robert Burns PG

Burns Poems & Songs of Robert Burns PG

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Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns

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Project Gutenberg's Poems And Songs Of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns Title: Poems And Songs Of Robert Burns Author: Robert Burns Produced by David Widger and an Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer

POEMS AND SONGS OF ROBERT BURNS by Robert Burns

1771 - 1779 1780 1781 1782 1783 1784 1785 1786 1787

1788 1789 1790 1791 1792 1793 1794 1795 1796

CONTENTS
Glossary
Preface 1771 - 1779 Song—Handsome Nell^1 Song—O Tibbie, I Hae Seen The Day Song—I Dream'd I Lay Song—In The Character Of A Ruined Farmer Tragic Fragment Tarbolton Lasses, The

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns Montgomerie's Peggy Ploughman's Life, The 1780 Ronalds Of The Bennals, The Song—Here's To Thy Health Lass Of Cessnock Banks, The^1 Song—Bonie Peggy Alison Song—Mary Morison 1781 Winter: A Dirge Prayer, Under The Pressure Of Violent Anguish Paraphrase Of The First Psalm First Six Verses Of The Ninetieth Psalm Versified, The Prayer, In The Prospect Of Death Stanzas, On The Same Occasion 1782 Fickle Fortune: A Fragment Raging Fortune—Fragment Of Song Impromptu—"I'll Go And Be A Sodger" Song—"No Churchman Am I" A Stanza Added In A Mason Lodge My Father Was A Farmer John Barleycorn: A Ballad

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1783 Death And Dying Words Of Poor Mailie, The Author's Only Pet Yowe., The Poor Mailie's Elegy Song—The Rigs O' Barley Song Composed In August Song Song—Green Grow The Rashes Song—Wha Is That At My Bower-Door 1784 Remorse: A Fragment Epitaph On Wm. Hood, Senr., In Tarbolton Epitaph On James Grieve, Laird Of Boghead, Tarbolton Epitaph On My Own Friend And My Father's Friend, Wm. Muir In Tarbolton Mill Epitaph On My Ever Honoured Father Ballad On The American War Reply To An Announcement By J. Rankine On His Writing To The Poet, Epistle To John Rankine A Poet's Welcome To His Love-Begotten Daughter^1 Song—O Leave Novels^1 Fragment—The Mauchline Lady Fragment—My Girl She's Airy The Belles Of Mauchline Epitaph On A Noisy Polemic Epitaph On A Henpecked Country Squire Epigram On The Said Occasion

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns Another On Tam The Chapman Epitaph On John Rankine Lines On The Author's Death Man Was Made To Mourn: A Dirge The Twa Herds; Or, The Holy Tulyie

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1785 Epistle To Davie, A Brother Poet Holy Willie's Prayer Epitaph On Holy Willie Death and Doctor Hornbook Epistle To J. Lapraik, An Old Scottish Bard Second Epistle To J. Lapraik Epistle To William Simson Postcript One Night As I Did Wander Tho' Cruel Fate Should Bid Us Part Song—Rantin', Rovin' Robin^1 Elegy On The Death Of Robert Ruisseaux^1 Epistle To John Goldie, In Kilmarnock The Holy Fair^1 Third Epistle To J. Lapraik Epistle To The Rev. John M'math Second Epistle to Davie Song—Young Peggy Blooms Song—Farewell To Ballochmyle Fragment—Her Flowing Locks Halloween^1 To A Mouse, On Turning Her Up In Her Nest With The Plough, November, 1785 Epitaph On John Dove, Innkeeper Epitaph For James Smith Adam Armour's Prayer The Jolly Beggars: A Cantata^1 Song—For A' That^1 Song—Merry Hae I Been Teethin A Heckle The Cotter's Saturday Night Address To The Deil Scotch Drink 1786 The Auld Farmer's New-Year-Morning Salutation To His Auld Mare, Maggie The Twa Dogs^1 The Author's Earnest Cry And Prayer The Ordination Epistle To James Smith The Vision Suppressed Stanza's Of "The Vision" Address To The Unco Guid, Or The Rigidly Righteous The Inventory^1 To John Kennedy, Dumfries House To Mr. M'Adam, Of Craigen-Gillan To A Louse, On Seeing One On A Lady's Bonnet, At Church

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns Inscribed On A Work Of Hannah More's Song, Composed In Spring To A Mountain Daisy, To Ruin The Lament Despondency: An Ode To Gavin Hamilton, Esq., Mauchline, Versified Reply To An Invitation Song—Will Ye Go To The Indies, My Mary? Song—My Highland Lassie, O Epistle To A Young Friend Address Of Beelzebub A Dream A Dedication Versified Note To Dr. Mackenzie, Mauchline The Farewell To the Brethren of St. James' Lodge, Tarbolton. On A Scotch Bard, Gone To The West Indies Song—Farewell To Eliza A Bard's Epitaph Epitaph On "Wee Johnie" The Lass O' Ballochmyle Lines To An Old Sweetheart Motto Prefixed To The Author's First Publication Lines To Mr. John Kennedy Lines Written On A Banknote Stanzas On Naething The Farewell Thomson's Edward and Eleanora. The Calf Nature's Law—A Poem Song—Willie Chalmers Reply To A Trimming Epistle Received From A Tailor The Brigs Of Ayr Fragment Of Song Epigram On Rough Roads Prayer—O Thou Dread Power Farewell Song To The Banks Of Ayr Address To The Toothache Lines On Meeting With Lord Daer^1 Masonic Song Tam Samson's Elegy The Epitaph Per Contra Epistle To Major Logan Fragment On Sensibility A Winter Night Song—Yon Wild Mossy Mountains Address To Edinburgh Address To A Haggis

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1787 To Miss Logan, With Beattie's Poems, For A New-Year's Gift, Jan. 1, 1787. Mr. William Smellie—A Sketch Song—Bonie Dundee

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns Extempore In The Court Of Session Inscription For The Headstone Of Fergusson The Poet^1 Epistle To Mrs. Scott Verses Intended To Be Written Below A Noble Earl's Picture^1 Prologue The Bonie Moor-Hen Song—My Lord A-Hunting Epigram At Roslin Inn Epigram Addressed To An Artist The Book-Worms On Elphinstone's Translation Of Martial's Epigrams Song—A Bottle And Friend Epitaph For William Nicol, Of The High School, Edinburgh Epitaph For Mr. William Michie Address To Wm. Tytler, Esq., Of Woodhouselee Epigram To Miss Ainslie In Church Burlesque Lament For The Absence Of William Creech, Publisher Note to Mr. Renton Elegy On "Stella" The Bard At Inverary Epigram To Miss Jean Scott On The Death Of John M'Leod, Esq, Elegy On The Death Of Sir James Hunter Blair Impromptu On Carron Iron Works To Miss Ferrier Written By Somebody On The Window The Poet's Reply To The Threat Of A Censorious Critic The Libeller's Self-Reproof^1 Verses Written With A Pencil Song—The Birks Of Aberfeldy The Humble Petition Of Bruar Water Lines On The Fall Of Fyers Near Loch-Ness. Epigram On Parting With A Kind Host In The Highlands Strathallan's Lament^1 Castle Gordon Song—Lady Onlie, Honest Lucky Theniel Menzies' Bonie Mary The Bonie Lass Of Albany^1 On Scaring Some Water-Fowl In Loch-Turit Blythe Was She^1 A Rose-Bud By My Early Walk Song—The Banks of the Devon Epitaph For Mr. W. Cruikshank^1 Braving Angry Winter's Storms Song—My Peggy's Charms The Young Highland Rover Birthday Ode For 31st December, 1787^1 On The Death Of Robert Dundas, Esq., Of Arniston, Sylvander To Clarinda^1 1788 Love In The Guise Of Friendship Go On, Sweet Bird, And Sooth My Care Clarinda, Mistress Of My Soul

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Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns I'm O'er Young To Marry Yet To The Weavers Gin Ye Go M'Pherson's Farewell Stay My Charmer Song—My Hoggie Raving Winds Around Her Blowing Up In The Morning Early Hey, The Dusty Miller Duncan Davison The Lad They Ca'Jumpin John Talk Of Him That's Far Awa To Daunton Me The Winter It Is Past The Bonie Lad That's Far Awa Verses To Clarinda The Chevalier's Lament Epistle To Hugh Parker Of A' The Airts The Wind Can Blaw^1 Song—I Hae a Wife O' My Ain Lines Written In Friars'-Carse Hermitage To Alex. Cunningham, ESQ., Writer Song.—Anna, Thy Charms The Fete Champetre Epistle To Robert Graham, Esq., Of Fintry Song.—The Day Returns Song.—O, Were I On Parnassus Hill A Mother's Lament The Fall Of The Leaf I Reign In Jeanie's Bosom Auld Lang Syne My Bonie Mary The Parting Kiss Written In Friar's-Carse Hermitage The Poet's Progress Elegy On The Year 1788 The Henpecked Husband Versicles On Sign-Posts 1789 Robin Shure In Hairst Ode, Sacred To The Memory Of Mrs. Oswald Of Auchencruive Pegasus At Wanlockhead Sappho Redivivus—A Fragment Song—She's Fair And Fause Impromptu Lines To Captain Riddell Lines To John M'Murdo, Esq. Of Drumlanrig Rhyming Reply To A Note From Captain Riddell Caledonia—A Ballad To Miss Cruickshank Beware O' Bonie Ann Ode On The Departed Regency Bill Epistle To James Tennant Of Glenconner A New Psalm For The Chapel Of Kilmarnock Sketch In Verse

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Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns The Wounded Hare Delia, An Ode The Gard'ner Wi' His Paidle On A Bank Of Flowers Young Jockie Was The Blythest Lad The Banks Of Nith Jamie, Come Try Me I Love My Love In Secret Sweet Tibbie Dunbar The Captain's Lady John Anderson, My Jo My Love, She's But A Lassie Yet Song—Tam Glen Carle, An The King Come The Laddie's Dear Sel' Whistle O'er The Lave O't My Eppie Adair On The Late Captain Grose's Peregrinations Thro' Scotland Epigram On Francis Grose The Antiquary The Kirk Of Scotland's Alarm Presentation Stanzas To Correspondents Sonnet On Receiving A Favour Extemporaneous Effusion Song—Willie Brew'd A Peck O' Maut^1 Ca' The Yowes To The Knowes I Gaed A Waefu' Gate Yestreen Highland Harry Back Again The Battle Of Sherramuir The Braes O' Killiecrankie Awa' Whigs, Awa' A Waukrife Minnie The Captive Ribband My Heart's In The Highlands The Whistle—A Ballad To Mary In Heaven Epistle To Dr. Blacklock The Five Carlins Election Ballad For Westerha' Prologue Spoken At The Theatre Of Dumfries 1790 Sketch—New Year's Day [1790] Scots' Prologue For Mr. Sutherland Lines To A Gentleman, Elegy On Willie Nicol's Mare The Gowden Locks Of Anna Postscript Song—I Murder Hate Gudewife, Count The Lawin Election Ballad Elegy On Captain Matthew Henderson The Epitaph Verses On Captain Grose Tam O' Shanter

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Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns On The Birth Of A Posthumous Child Elegy On The Late Miss Burnet Of Monboddo 1791 Lament Of Mary, Queen Of Scots, On The Approach Of Spring There'll Never Be Peace Till Jamie Comes Hame Song—Out Over The Forth The Banks O' Doon—First Version The Banks O' Doon—Second Version The Banks O' Doon—Third Version Lament For James, Earl Of Glencairn Lines Sent To Sir John Whiteford, Bart Craigieburn Wood Epigram On Miss Davies The Charms Of Lovely Davies What Can A Young Lassie Do Wi' An Auld Man The Posie On Glenriddell's Fox Breaking His Chain Poem On Pastoral Poetry Verses On The Destruction Of The Woods Near Drumlanrig The Gallant Weaver Epigram At Brownhill Inn^1 Lovely Polly Stewart Fragment,—Damon And Sylvia Johnie Lad, Cock Up Your Beaver My Eppie Macnab Altho' He Has Left Me My Tocher's The Jewel O For Ane An' Twenty, Tam Thou Fair Eliza My Bonie Bell Sweet Afton Address To The Shade Of Thomson Nithsdale's Welcome Hame Frae The Friends And Land I Love Such A Parcel Of Rogues In A Nation Ye Jacobites By Name I Hae Been At Crookieden O Kenmure's On And Awa, Willie Epistle To John Maxwell, ESQ., Of Terraughty Second Epistle To Robert Graham, ESQ., Of Fintry The Song Of Death Poem On Sensibility The Toadeater Divine Service In The Kirk Of Lamington The Keekin'-Glass A Grace Before Dinner, Extempore A Grace After Dinner, Extempore O May, Thy Morn Ae Fond Kiss, And Then We Sever Behold The Hour, The Boat, Arrive Thou Gloomy December My Native Land Sae Far Awa

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Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns 1792 I do Confess Thou Art Sae Fair Lines On Fergusson, The Poet The Weary Pund O' Tow When She Cam' Ben She Bobbed Scroggam, My Dearie My Collier Laddie Sic A Wife As Willie Had Lady Mary Ann Kellyburn Braes The Slave's Lament O Can Ye Labour Lea? The Deuks Dang O'er My Daddie The Deil's Awa Wi' The Exciseman The Country Lass Bessy And Her Spinnin' Wheel Love For Love Saw Ye Bonie Lesley Fragment Of Song I'll Meet Thee On The Lea Rig My Wife's A Winsome Wee Thing Highland Mary Auld Rob Morris The Rights Of Woman Epigram On Seeing Miss Fontenelle In A Favourite Character Extempore On Some Commemorations Of Thomson Duncan Gray Here's A Health To Them That's Awa A Tippling Ballad 1793 Poortith Cauld And Restless Love On Politics Braw Lads O' Galla Water Sonnet Written On The Author's Birthday, Wandering Willie—First Version Wandering Willie—Revised Version Lord Gregory Open The Door To Me, Oh Lovely Young Jessie Meg O' The Mill Meg O' The Mill—Another Version The Soldier's Return Versicles, A.D. 1793 The True Loyal Natives On Commissary Goldie's Brains Lines Inscribed In A Lady's Pocket Almanac Thanksgiving For A National Victory Lines On The Commemoration Of Rodney's Victory The Raptures Of Folly Kirk and State Excisemen Extempore Reply To An Invitation Grace After Meat Grace Before And After Meat

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Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns

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Impromptu On General Dumourier's Desertion From The French Republican Army The Last Time I Came O'er The Moor Logan Braes Blythe Hae I been On Yon Hill O Were My Love Yon Lilac Fair Bonie Jean—A Ballad Lines On John M'Murdo, ESQ. Epitaph On A Lap-Dog Epigrams Against The Earl Of Galloway Epigram On The Laird Of Laggan Song—Phillis The Fair Song—Had I A Cave Song—By Allan Stream Whistle, And I'll Come To You, My Lad Phillis The Queen O' The Fair Come, Let Me Take Thee To My Breast Dainty Davie Robert Bruce's March To Bannockburn Behold The Hour, The Boat Arrive Down The Burn, Davie Thou Hast Left Me Ever, Jamie Where Are The Joys I have Met? Deluded Swain, The Pleasure Thine Am I, My Faithful Fair On Mrs. Riddell's Birthday My Spouse Nancy Address Complimentary Epigram On Maria Riddell 1794 Remorseful Apology Wilt Thou Be My Dearie? A Fiddler In The North The Minstrel At Lincluden A Vision A Red, Red Rose Young Jamie, Pride Of A' The Plain The Flowery Banks Of Cree Monody The Epitaph Pinned To Mrs. Walter Riddell's Carriage Epitaph For Mr. Walter Riddell Epistle From Esopus To Maria Epitaph On A Noted Coxcomb On Capt. Lascelles On Wm. Graham, Esq., Of Mossknowe On John Bushby, Esq., Tinwald Downs Sonnet On The Death Of Robert Riddell The Lovely Lass O' Inverness Charlie, He's My Darling Bannocks O' Bear Meal The Highland Balou The Highland Widow's Lament

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns It Was A' For Our Rightfu' King Ode For General Washington's Birthday Inscription To Miss Graham Of Fintry On The Seas And Far Away Ca' The Yowes To The Knowes—Second Version She Says She Loes Me Best Of A' To Dr. Maxwell To The Beautiful Miss Eliza J—N On Chloris On Seeing Mrs. Kemble In Yarico Epigram On A Country Laird, On Being Shewn A Beautiful Country Seat On Hearing It Asserted Falsehood On A Suicide On A Swearing Coxcomb On An Innkeeper Nicknamed "The Marquis" On Andrew Turner Pretty Peg Esteem For Chloris Saw Ye My Dear, My Philly How Lang And Dreary Is The Night Inconstancy In Love The Lover's Morning Salute To His Mistress The Winter Of Life Behold, My Love, How Green The Groves The Charming Month Of May Lassie Wi' The Lint-White Locks Dialogue song—Philly And Willy Contented Wi' Little And Cantie Wi' Mair Farewell Thou Stream Canst Thou Leave Me Thus, My Katie My Nanie's Awa The Tear-Drop For The Sake O' Somebody 1795 A Man's A Man For A' That Craigieburn Wood Versicles of 1795 The Solemn League And Covenant Lines sent with a Present of a Dozen of Porter. Inscription On A Goblet Apology For Declining An Invitation To Dine Epitaph For Mr. Gabriel Richardson Epigram On Mr. James Gracie Bonie Peg-a-Ramsay Inscription At Friars' Carse Hermitage There Was A Bonie Lass Wee Willie Gray O Aye My Wife She Dang Me Gude Ale Keeps The Heart Aboon O Steer Her Up An' Haud Her Gaun The Lass O' Ecclefechan O Let Me In Thes Ae Night

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Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns Her Answer I'll Aye Ca' In By Yon Town O Wat Ye Wha's In Yon Town Ballads on Mr. Heron's Election, 1795 Inscription For An Altar Of Independence The Cardin O't, The Spinnin O't The Cooper O' Cuddy The Lass That Made The Bed To Me Had I The Wyte? She Bade Me Does Haughty Gaul Invasion Threat? Address To The Woodlark Song.—On Chloris Being Ill How Cruel Are The Parents Mark Yonder Pomp Of Costly Fashion 'Twas Na Her Bonie Blue E'e Their Groves O'Sweet Myrtle Forlorn, My Love, No Comfort Near Fragment,—Why, Why Tell The Lover The Braw Wooer This Is No My Ain Lassie O Bonie Was Yon Rosy Brier Song Inscribed To Alexander Cunningham O That's The Lassie O' My Heart Inscription Fragment.—Leezie Lindsay Fragment.—The Wren's Nest News, Lassies, News Crowdie Ever Mair Mally's Meek, Mally's Sweet Jockey's Taen The Parting Kiss Verses To Collector Mitchell Postscript 1796 The Dean Of Faculty Epistle To Colonel De Peyster A Lass Wi' A Tocher Heron Election Ballad, No. IV. Complimentary Versicles To Jessie Lewars O Lay Thy Loof In Mine, Lass A Health To Ane I Loe Dear O Wert Thou In The Cauld Blast Inscription To Miss Jessy Lewars Fairest Maid On Devon Banks

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Glossary

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns

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Preface
Robert Burns was born near Ayr, Scotland, 25th of January, 1759. He was the son of William Burnes, or Burness, at the time of the poet's birth a nurseryman on the banks of the Doon in Ayrshire. His father, though always extremely poor, attempted to give his children a fair education, and Robert, who was the eldest, went to school for three years in a neighboring village, and later, for shorter periods, to three other schools in the vicinity. But it was to his father and to his own reading that he owed the more important part of his education; and by the time that he had reached manhood he had a good knowledge of English, a reading knowledge of French, and a fairly wide acquaintance with the masterpieces of English literature from the time of Shakespeare to his own day. In 1766 William Burness rented on borrowed money the farm of Mount Oliphant, and in taking his share in the effort to make this undertaking succeed, the future poet seems to have seriously overstrained his physique. In 1771 the family move to Lochlea, and Burns went to the neighboring town of Irvine to learn flax-dressing. The only result of this experiment, however, was the formation of an acquaintance with a dissipated sailor, whom he afterward blamed as the prompter of his first licentious adventures. His father died in 1784, and with his brother Gilbert the poet rented the farm of Mossgiel; but this venture was as unsuccessful as the others. He had meantime formed an irregular intimacy with Jean Armour, for which he was censured by the Kirk-session. As a result of his farming misfortunes, and the attempts of his father-in-law to overthrow his irregular marriage with Jean, he resolved to emigrate; and in order to raise money for the passage he published (Kilmarnock, 1786) a volume of the poems which he had been composing from time to time for some years. This volume was unexpectedly successful, so that, instead of sailing for the West Indies, he went up to Edinburgh, and during that winter he was the chief literary celebrity of the season. An enlarged edition of his poems was published there in 1787, and the money derived from this enabled him to aid his brother in Mossgiel, and to take and stock for himself the farm of Ellisland in Dumfriesshire. His fame as poet had reconciled the Armours to the connection, and having now regularly married Jean, he brought her to Ellisland, and once more tried farming for three years. Continued ill-success, however, led him, in 1791, to abandon Ellisland, and he moved to Dumfries, where he had obtained a position in the Excise. But he was now thoroughly discouraged; his work was mere drudgery; his tendency to take his relaxation in debauchery increased the weakness of a constitution early undermined; and he died at Dumfries in his thirty-eighth year. It is not necessary here to attempt to disentangle or explain away the numerous amours in which he was engaged through the greater part of his life. It is evident that Burns was a man of extremely passionate nature and fond of conviviality; and the misfortunes of his lot combined with his natural tendencies to drive him to frequent excesses of self-indulgence. He was often remorseful, and he strove painfully, if intermittently, after better things. But the story of his life must be admitted to be in its externals a painful and somewhat sordid chronicle. That it contained, however, many moments of joy and exaltation is proved by the poems here printed. Burns' poetry falls into two main groups: English and Scottish. His English poems are, for the most part, inferior specimens of conventional eighteenth-century verse. But in Scottish poetry he achieved triumphs of a quite extraordinary kind. Since the time of the Reformation and the union of the crowns of England and Scotland, the Scots dialect had largely fallen into disuse as a medium for dignified writing. Shortly before Burns' time, however, Allan Ramsay and Robert Fergusson had been the leading figures in a revival of the vernacular, and Burns received from them a national tradition which he succeeded in carrying to its highest pitch, becoming thereby, to an almost unique degree, the poet of his people. He first showed complete mastery of verse in the field of satire. In "The Twa Herds," "Holy Willie's Prayer," "Address to the Unco Guid," "The Holy Fair," and others, he manifested sympathy with the protest of the so-called "New Light" party, which had sprung up in opposition to the extreme Calvinism and intolerance of the dominant "Auld Lichts." The fact that Burns had personally suffered from the discipline of the Kirk probably added fire to his attacks, but the satires show more than personal animus. The force of the invective, the keenness of the wit, and the fervor of the imagination which they displayed, rendered them an important force in the theological liberation of Scotland.

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns

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The Kilmarnock volume contained, besides satire, a number of poems like "The Twa Dogs" and "The Cotter's Saturday Night," which are vividly descriptive of the Scots peasant life with which he was most familiar; and a group like "Puir Mailie" and "To a Mouse," which, in the tenderness of their treatment of animals, revealed one of the most attractive sides of Burns' personality. Many of his poems were never printed during his lifetime, the most remarkable of these being "The Jolly Beggars," a piece in which, by the intensity of his imaginative sympathy and the brilliance of his technique, he renders a picture of the lowest dregs of society in such a way as to raise it into the realm of great poetry. But the real national importance of Burns is due chiefly to his songs. The Puritan austerity of the centuries following the Reformation had discouraged secular music, like other forms of art, in Scotland; and as a result Scottish song had become hopelessly degraded in point both of decency and literary quality. From youth Burns had been interested in collecting the fragments he had heard sung or found printed, and he came to regard the rescuing of this almost lost national inheritance in the light of a vocation. About his song-making, two points are especially noteworthy: first, that the greater number of his lyrics sprang from actual emotional experiences; second, that almost all were composed to old melodies. While in Edinburgh he undertook to supply material for Johnson's "Musical Museum," and as few of the traditional songs could appear in a respectable collection, Burns found it necessary to make them over. Sometimes he kept a stanza or two; sometimes only a line or chorus; sometimes merely the name of the air; the rest was his own. His method, as he has told us himself, was to become familiar with the traditional melody, to catch a suggestion from some fragment of the old song, to fix upon an idea or situation for the new poem; then, humming or whistling the tune as he went about his work, he wrought out the new verses, going into the house to write them down when the inspiration began to flag. In this process is to be found the explanation of much of the peculiar quality of the songs of Burns. Scarcely any known author has succeeded so brilliantly in combining his work with folk material, or in carrying on with such continuity of spirit the tradition of popular song. For George Thomson's collection of Scottish airs he performed a function similar to that which he had had in the "Museum"; and his poetical activity during the last eight or nine years of his life was chiefly devoted to these two publications. In spite of the fact that he was constantly in severe financial straits, he refused to accept any recompense for this work, preferring to regard it as a patriotic service. And it was, indeed, a patriotic service of no small magnitude. By birth and temperament he was singularly fitted for the task, and this fitness is proved by the unique extent to which his productions were accepted by his countrymen, and have passed into the life and feeling of his race.

1771 - 1779

Song—Handsome Nell^1
Tune—"I am a man unmarried." [Footnote 1: The first of my performances.—R. B.] Once I lov'd a bonie lass,

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
Ay, and I love her still; And whilst that virtue warms my breast, I'll love my handsome Nell. As bonie lasses I hae seen, And mony full as braw; But, for a modest gracefu' mein, The like I never saw. A bonie lass, I will confess, Is pleasant to the e'e; But, without some better qualities, She's no a lass for me. But Nelly's looks are blythe and sweet, And what is best of a', Her reputation is complete, And fair without a flaw. She dresses aye sae clean and neat, Both decent and genteel; And then there's something in her gait Gars ony dress look weel. A gaudy dress and gentle air May slightly touch the heart; But it's innocence and modesty That polishes the dart. 'Tis this in Nelly pleases me, 'Tis this enchants my soul; For absolutely in my breast She reigns without control.

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But sorrow tak' him that's sae mean. or Strathspey. I doubt na. But fient a hair care I. . I care na by. Ye snufft and ga'e your head a cast— But trowth I care't na by. That looks sae proud and high. I hae seen the day. Altho' a lad were e'er sae smart. &c. O Tibbie. If that he want the yellow dirt. O Tibbie. When coming hame on Sunday last. I Hae Seen The Day Tune—"Invercauld's Reel. Altho' his pouch o' coin were clean.—O Tibbie. but gaed by like stour." Choir. Whene'er ye like to try. Ye geck at me because I'm poor. trowth. That ye can please me at a wink. I hae seen the day. Upon the road as I cam past. I hae seen the day. &c. &c. by Robert Burns 16 Song—O Tibbie. O Tibbie. lass.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Because ye hae the name o' clink. but ye may think. Wha follows ony saucy quean. &c. Yestreen I met you on the moor. Ye'll cast your head anither airt. For laik o' gear ye lightly me. O Tibbie. I hae seen the day. I hae seen the day. Ye spak na. But. Ye wadna been sae shy.

&c. for sense or lear. There lives a lass beside yon park. But. tak' my advice: Your daddie's gear maks you sae nice. Tress with aged arms were warring. I'd rather hae her in her sark. O Tibbie. O Tibbie. 17 Song—I Dream'd I Lay I dream'd I lay where flowers were springing Gaily in the sunny beam. I hae seen the day. O Tibbie. Such was my life's deceitful morning. I hae seen the day. List'ning to the wild birds singing. I hae seen the day. Tho' hardly he. Tibbie. by Robert Burns And answer him fu' dry. &c. Ye'll fasten to him like a brier. &c. I hae seen the day. By a falling crystal stream: Straight the sky grew black and daring. O'er the swelling drumlie wave. Be better than the kye. The deil a ane wad speir your price. &c. But. Than you wi' a' your thousand mark. lass. Were ye as poor as I. . Thro' the woods the whirlwinds rave.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. That gars you look sae high. if he hae the name o' gear. O Tibbie.

O! There lie my sweet babies in her arms. fickle Fortune. All creatures retired to rest. But for their sake my heart does ache. and woe: And it's O. But Misery and I must watch The surly tempest blow: And it's O. Love. Tho' fickle fortune has deceiv'd me— She promis'd fair. all sore beset. my youthful pride. and perform'd but ill. Her cares for a moment at rest: Must I see thee. Thus brought so very low! And it's O. grief. Of mony a joy and hope bereav'd me— I bear a heart shall support me still. Nor hears how the whirlwinds sweep. O! There lies the dear partner of my breast.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. . While here I sit. by Robert Burns Such the pleasures I enjoyed: But lang or noon. With sorrow." The sun he is sunk in the west. do. fickle Fortune. 18 Song—In The Character Of A Ruined Farmer Tune—"Go from my window. No anxious fear their little hearts alarms. fickle Fortune. loud tempests storming A' my flowery bliss destroy'd. O! The prosperous man is asleep.

ye hapless crew! I pity you. O! No comfort. O whither shall I turn! All friendless. Still my heart melts at human wretchedness. O! I once was by Fortune carest: I once could relieve the distrest: Now life's poor support. fickle Fortune. hardly earn'd My fate will scarce bestow: And it's O. stubborn. no comfort I have! How welcome to me were the grave! But then my wife and children dear— O. forlorn! For.— Ev'n you. by Robert Burns With many a bitter throe: And it's O. Rest or Peace I never more shall know! And it's O. O! O whither. in this world. A hardened. fickle Fortune. Whose unsubmitting heart was all his crime. fickle Fortune. And with sincere but unavailing sighs I view the helpless children of distress: With tears indignant I behold the oppressor Rejoicing in the honest man's destruction. wither would they go! And it's O. O! 19 Tragic Fragment All devil as I am—a damned wretch. . forsaken.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. unrepenting villain. fickle Fortune.

If ye'll dispense wi' want o' sense— . despised. Besides a handsome fortune: Wha canna win her in a night. Ye'll maybe fancy Jenny.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. a deil within. worthless wretch among you! O injured God! Thy goodness has endow'd me With talents passing most of my compeers. and taste the ale. abandoned vagabonds. She kens her father is a laird. And tak a look o' Mysie. Has little art in courtin'. If she be shy. Gae down by Faile. a lassie bright. whom the seeming good think sin to pity. 20 Tarbolton Lasses. Ye'll there see bonie Peggy. The most detested. Oh! but for friends and interposing Heaven. her sister try. I had been driven forth like you forlorn. The If ye gae up to yon hill-tap. And she forsooth's a leddy. Ye poor. Whom Vice. has turn'd o'er to ruin. as usual. Which I in just proportion have abused— As far surpassing other common villains As Thou in natural parts has given me more. by Robert Burns Ye. She's dour and din. But aiblins she may please ye. There Sophy tight.

and scorn me. She'll gie ye a beck. my mother dear! A man of strife ye've born me: For sair contention I maun bear. And handsomely address ye. That five per cent. and bid ye light. day and night. on the tither hand. 10th verse. Ah. There's few sae bonie. by Robert Burns She kens hersel she's bonie.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. By lad and lass blackguarded! 21 Montgomerie's Peggy Tune—"Galla Water. Woe Is Me. In a' King George' dominion. . If ye should doubt the truth o' this— It's Bessy's ain opinion! Ah.. a coin-denied wight. revile. As ye gae up by yon hillside. Amang the heather. nane sae guid. The deil a ane wad trust me." Altho' my bed were in yon muir. They hate. Yet I. woe is me. Speir in for bonie Bessy. I ne'er could lend on bill or band. might blest me. 15th Chap. And borrowing. in my plaidie. My Mother Dear Paraphrase of Jeremiah. By Fortune quite discarded. Ye see how I am.

And as he was singin'. . The As I was a-wand'ring ae morning in spring.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. I'd seek some dell. The In Tarbolton. there are proper young men. by Robert Burns Yet happy. Then a' 'twad gie o' joy to me. And horse and servants waiting ready. 22 Ploughman's Life. thir words he did say. The lav'rock in the morning she'll rise frae her nest. happy would I be. And at night she'll return to her nest back again. And winter nights were dark and rainy. And wi' the merry ploughman she'll whistle and sing. And mount i' the air wi' the dew on her breast. man. When o'er the hill beat surly storms. Had I my dear Montgomerie's Peggy. 1780 Ronalds Of The Bennals. and in my arms I'd shelter dear Montgomerie's Peggy. I heard a young ploughman sae sweetly to sing.— There's nae life like the ploughman's in the month o' sweet May. Were I a baron proud and high. And proper young lasses and a'.— The sharin't with Montgomerie's Peggy. ye ken.

man. man. man. They fade and they wither awa. They carry the gree frae them a'. man. A hint o' a rival or twa. the pride o' her kin. The Laird o' Braehead has been on his speed. She steals our affections awa. 23 .Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. I'll warrant ye've seen As bonie a lass or as braw. Then Anna comes in. If ye be for Miss Jean. sae fully complete. man. The Laird o' Blackbyre wad gang through the fire. The mair admiration they draw. The Laird o' the Ford will straught on a board. man. the langer they shine. But for sense and guid taste she'll vie wi' the best. man. man. The charms o' the min'. While peaches and cherries. and weel he can spare't. man. If that wad entice her awa. and roses and lilies. Their father's laird. man: Sae sonsy and sweet. man. he'll clink in the hand Gowd guineas a hunder or twa. tak this frae a frien'. Braid money to tocher them a'. If he canna get her at a'. by Robert Burns But ken ye the Ronalds that live in the Bennals. For mair than a towmond or twa. And a conduct that beautifies a'. If I should detail the pick and the wale O' lasses that live here awa. man. man. man. The fau't wad be mine if they didna shine The sweetest and best o' them a'. To proper young men. There's ane they ca' Jean. man. The boast of our bachelors a'.

man. man: For though I be poor. man. Nae weel-tocher'd aunts. man. but five o' them new. I've little to spend. O'pairs o' guid breeks I hae twa. There are no mony poets sae braw. A ten-shillings hat. Yet I wadna choose to let her refuse. And stockings and pumps to put on my stumps. man. Or claughtin't together at a'. And ne'er a wrang steek in them a'. I never had frien's weel stockit in means. I never was cannie for hoarding o' money. man. Does little or naething at a'. and naething to lend. Though I canna ride in weel-booted pride. man. as white as the snaw. man. And wish them in hell for it a'. man. by Robert Burns I lo'e her mysel. My sarks they are few. Though fluttering ever so braw. unnoticed. My coat and my vest. Twal' hundred. For making o' rhymes. man. I can haud up my head wi' the best o' the breed. To leave me a hundred or twa. My poverty keeps me in awe. But deevil a shilling I awe. man. man. a Holland cravat. man. My stomach's as proud as them a'. but darena weel tell. Nor hae't in her power to say na. to wait on their drants. 24 . and working at times.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. And flee o'er the hills like a craw. they are Scotch o' the best. man. obscure.

I'll fear nae scant. Sma' siller will relieve me. But far off fowls hae feathers fair. Thou'rt aye sae free informing me. I'll bode nae want. I'll count my health my greatest wealth. Tho' they seem fair. Sae lang as I'll enjoy it. To tell thee that I lo'e thee. How lang ye look about ye. Gude nicht and joy be wi' thee. my bonie lass. But I can live without thee: I vow and swear I dinna care. I ken they scorn my low estate. Nae time hae I to tarry: I ken thy frien's try ilka means Frae wedlock to delay thee. And. I'll come nae mair to thy bower-door. O dinna think. my pretty pink. still have a care. Thou hast nae mind to marry. But that does never grieve me. For I'm as free as any he. . aye until ye try them. Depending on some higher chance. by Robert Burns 25 Song—Here's To Thy Health Tune—"Laggan Burn. As lang's I get employment.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns." Here's to thy health. But fortune may betray thee. I'll be as free informing thee.

She's sweeter than the morning dawn. An' she has twa sparkling roguish een. by Robert Burns They may prove waur than I am.] A Song of Similes Tune—"If he be a Butcher neat and trim." On Cessnock banks a lassie dwells. I'll come and see thee. When purest in the dewy morn. My dear.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. 26 Lass Of Cessnock Banks. . And dew-drops twinkle o'er the lawn. But at twal' at night. She's stately like yon youthful ash. daughter of a "Farmer Lang". And drinks the stream with vigour fresh. An' she has twa sparkling roguish een. The^1 [Footnote 1: The lass is identified as Ellison Begbie. Could I describe her shape and mein. Our lasses a' she far excels. She's spotless like the flow'ring thorn. When rising Phoebus first is seen. when the moon shines bright. a servant wench. An' she has twa sparkling roguish een. Nae travel makes him weary. Her looks are like the vernal May. For the man that loves his mistress weel. That grows the cowslip braes between. With flow'rs so white and leaves so green. An' she has twa sparkling roguish een.

Her bosom's like the nightly snow. Just opening on its thorny stem. That sunny walls from Boreas screen. While hid the murm'ring streamlets flow. An' she has twa sparkling roguish een. That slowly mount the rising steep. When Phoebus sinks behind the seas. With fleeces newly washen clean. An' she has twa sparkling roguish een. They tempt the taste and charm the sight.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Her teeth are like a flock of sheep. When gleaming sunbeams intervene And gild the distant mountain's brow. The pride of all the flowery scene. An' she has twa sparkling roguish een. An' she has twa sparkling roguish een. That gently stirs the blossom'd bean. An' she has twa sparkling roguish een. That climbs the mountain-sides at e'en. Her hair is like the curling mist. When flow'r-reviving rains are past. While birds rejoice on every spray. Her lips are like yon cherries ripe. Her cheeks are like yon crimson gem. An' she has twa sparkling roguish een. An' she has twa sparkling roguish een. When pale the morning rises keen. Her breath is like the fragrant breeze. Her forehead's like the show'ry bow. 27 . by Robert Burns When ev'ning Phoebus shines serene.

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. O! . by Robert Burns An' she has twa sparkling roguish een. 28 Song—Bonie Peggy Alison Tune—"The Braes o' Balquhidder. While his mate sits nestling in the bush. yet. I clasp my countless treasure. O! I seek nae mair o' Heaven to share Than sic a moment's pleasure. An' she has twa sparkling roguish een. wi' a' thy charms. yet. Ilk care and fear. My bonie Peggy Alison. I swear I'm thine for ever. her face.—And I'll kiss thee yet. O! And I'll kiss thee yet. But it's not her air. Tho' matching beauty's fabled queen. An' chiefly in her roguish een. her form. O! And I'll kiss thee yet. Her voice is like the ev'ning thrush. &c. And by thy een sae bonie blue. yet." Chor. 'Tis the mind that shines in ev'ry grace. O! Young kings upon their hansel throne Are no sae blest as I am. That sings on Cessnock banks unseen. When in my arms. yet. And I'll kiss thee o'er again: And I'll kiss thee yet. &c. when thou art near I evermair defy them.

"Ye are na Mary Morison. but neither heard nor saw: Tho' this was fair.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. I sigh'd. Mary. and said among them a'. O! And I'll kiss thee yet. The lovely Mary Morison. Yestreen. It is the wish'd. at thy window be. That make the miser's treasure poor: How blythely was I bide the stour. by Robert Burns And on thy lips I seal my vow. and that was braw. canst thou wreck his peace. And yon the toast of a' the town. Could I the rich reward secure." Oh. To thee my fancy took its wing. Wha for thy sake wad gladly die? Or canst thou break that heart of his. &c. And break it shall I never. the trysted hour! Those smiles and glances let me see. Whase only faut is loving thee? If love for love thou wilt na gie. when to the trembling string The dance gaed thro' the lighted ha'. I sat." O Mary. . At least be pity to me shown. 29 Song—Mary Morison Tune—"Bide ye yet. yet. A weary slave frae sun to sun.

And roars frae bank to brae. The leafless trees my fancy please. tumbling brown." The joyless winter day Let others fear. they must be best. Their fate resembles mine! Thou Power Supreme. the burn comes down. by Robert Burns A thought ungentle canna be The thought o' Mary Morison. And bird and beast in covert rest. "The sweeping blast. Or the stormy north sends driving forth The blinding sleet and snaw: While. And hail and rain does blaw. Because they are Thy will! Then all I want—O do Thou grant . the sky o'ercast. to me more dear Than all the pride of May: The tempest's howl.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. it soothes my soul. My griefs it seems to join. whose mighty scheme These woes of mine fulfil. Here firm I rest. 30 1781 Winter: A Dirge The wintry west extends his blast. And pass the heartless day.

To bear and not repine! Paraphrase Of The First Psalm The man. All wretched and distrest.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Nor learns their guilty lore! . canst not act From cruelty or wrath! O. Then man my soul with firm resolves. Thy creature here before Thee stands. that known to Thee Are all Thy works below. if I must afflicted be. Or close them fast in death! But. Sure. Under The Pressure Of Violent Anguish O Thou Great Being! what Thou art. by Robert Burns This one request of mine!— Since to enjoy Thou dost deny. Almighty. To suit some wise design. 31 Prayer. Yet sure those ills that wring my soul Obey Thy high behest. in life wherever plac'd. Thou. free my weary eyes from tears. Hath happiness in store. Surpasses me to know. Who walks not in the wicked's way. Assist me to resign. Yet sure I am.

And. like the rootless stubble. . For why? that God the good adore. And firm the root below. the first. Which by the streamlets grow. the greatest friend Of all the human race! Whose strong right hand has ever been Their stay and dwelling place! Before the mountains heav'd their heads Beneath Thy forming hand. Hath giv'n them peace and rest. But with humility and awe Still walks before his God. But hath decreed that wicked men Shall ne'er be truly blest. That Pow'r which rais'd and still upholds This universal frame. tost Before the sweeping blast. The O Thou. Before this ponderous globe itself Arose at Thy command. 32 First Six Verses Of The Ninetieth Psalm Versified. The fruitful top is spread on high. But he whose blossom buds in guilt Shall to the ground be cast. by Robert Burns Nor from the seat of scornful pride Casts forth his eyes abroad.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. That man shall flourish like the trees.

Is to existence brought. They flourish like the morning flow'r. man. In everlasting sleep. As with a flood Thou tak'st them off With overwhelming sweep. In The Prospect Of Death O Thou unknown. unbeginning time Was ever still the same.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Thou giv'st the word: Thy creature. loudly. with all their cares. "Ye sons of men. Appear no more before Thy sight Than yesterday that's past. Return ye into nought!" Thou layest them. As something. In beauty's pride array'd. Remonstrates I have done. by Robert Burns From countless. But long ere night cut down it lies All wither'd and decay'd. Perhaps I must appear! If I have wander'd in those paths Of life I ought to shun. Almighty Cause Of all my hope and fear! In whose dread presence. Those mighty periods of years Which seem to us so vast. . in my breast. 33 Prayer. ere an hour. Again Thou say'st.

No other plea I have. by Robert Burns Thou know'st that Thou hast formed me With passions wild and strong. for guilt. dreary. "Forgive my foul offence. But. And justly smart beneath His sin-avenging rod. . Where human weakness has come short. All-Good—for such Thou art— In shades of darkness hide. Again in folly's part might go astray. Is it departing pangs my soul alarms? Or death's unlovely." Fain promise never more to disobey. Fain would I say. 34 Stanzas. But. should my Author health again dispense. On The Same Occasion Why am I loth to leave this earthly scene? Have I so found it full of pleasing charms? Some drops of joy with draughts of ill between— Some gleams of sunshine 'mid renewing storms. Where with intention I have err'd. And list'ning to their witching voice Has often led me wrong. Thou art good. Or frailty stept aside.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Again I might desert fair virtue's way. my terrors are in arms: I tremble to approach an angry God. Do Thou. and Goodness still Delighteth to forgive. dark abode? For guilt.

aid me with Thy help. She pormis'd fair and perform'd but ill. and wealth bereav'd me. Of mistress. I bid thee welcome. Those headlong furious passions to confine. Yet I bear a heart shall support me still. To rule their torrent in th' allowed line.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. yet to temptation ran? O Thou. Thy nod can make the tempest cease to blow. . For all unfit I feel my pow'rs to be. great Governor of all below! If I may dare a lifted eye to Thee. by Robert Burns Again exalt the brute and sink the man. Omnipotence Divine! 35 1782 Fickle Fortune: A Fragment Though fickle Fortune has deceived me. Then come misfortune. O. friends. Then how should I for heavenly mercy pray Who act so counter heavenly mercy's plan? Who sin so oft have mourn'd. I'll meet thee with an undaunted mind. But if success I must never find. Or still the tumult of the raging sea: With that controlling pow'r assist ev'n me. I'll act with prudence as far 's I'm able.

But now it's gane. O! But luckless Fortune's northern storms Laid a' my blossoms low. O! But luckless Fortune's northern storms Laid a' my blossoms low. the sun rose mild.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. my bud was green. and five feet nine. . O! Impromptu—"I'll Go And Be A Sodger" O why the deuce should I repine. to the tavern let's fly. I held it weel thegither. O! The dew fell fresh. my dear Brethren. and something mair— I'll go and be a sodger! Song—"No Churchman Am I" Tune—"Prepare." No churchman am I for to rail and to write. And made my branches grow. O! O raging Fortune's withering blast Has laid my leaf full low. And be an ill foreboder? I'm twenty-three. My blossom sweet did blow. O! My stem was fair. by Robert Burns 36 Raging Fortune—Fragment Of Song O raging Fortune's withering blast Has laid my leaf full low. I'll go and be a sodger! I gat some gear wi' mickle care.

The wife of my bosom. With a glorious bottle that ended my cares. And honours masonic prepare for to throw. that wore the black gown. by Robert Burns No statesman nor soldier to plot or to fight. are my glory and care. But see you the Crown how it waves in the air? There a big-belly'd bottle still eases my care. I once was persuaded a venture to make. There centum per centum. what d'ye call him. The peer I don't envy. the cit with his purse. Here passes the squire on his brother—his horse. like those that are here. For a big-belly'd bottle's a heav'n of a care. I found that old Solomon proved it fair. though ever so low. 37 A Stanza Added In A Mason Lodge Then fill up a bumper and make it o'erflow.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. And a bottle like this. But the pursy old landlord just waddl'd upstairs. A letter inform'd me that all was to wreck. And faith I agree with th' old prig to a hair. for sweet consolation to church I did fly. I give him his bow. No sly man of business contriving a snare. That a big-belly'd bottle's a cure for all care. For a big-belly'd bottle's the whole of my care. alas! she did die. May ev'ry true Brother of the Compass and Square . I scorn not the peasant. But a club of good fellows. "Life's cares they are comforts"—a maxim laid down By the Bard.

O. O. O. I still was worst mistaken. and so I would enjoy it. O. nor hope. sometimes by friends forsaken. Tho' to be rich was not my wish. O. O. and sweat. and came to this conclusion. but shun whate'er might breed me pain or sorrow. and vain essay. and the future hid. O. O. O. and labour to sustain me. to reap and mow. And when my hope was at the top. nor view had I. to frustrate each endeavour. my father bred me early. Some cause unseen still stept between. No help. nor yet my education. O. by Robert Burns Have a big-belly'd bottle when harass'd with care. I courted Fortune's favour. He bade me act a manly part. O. O. thro' life I'm doom'd to wander. O. So I must toil. no man was worth regarding. Sometimes by foes I was o'erpower'd. its good or ill untried." My father was a farmer upon the Carrick border. with Fortune's vain delusion. Thus all obscure. For without an honest manly heart. 38 My Father Was A Farmer Tune—"The weaver and his shuttle. though I had ne'er a farthing. and poor. O: Resolv'd was I at least to try to mend my situation. Then out into the world my course I did determine. For one. O. O. O. The past was bad. I dropt my schemes. and moil. O. O. O. My talents they were not the worst. nor person to befriend me. . Then sore harass'd and tir'd at last. But the present hour was in my pow'r. he said. like idle dreams. In many a way. O. yet to be great was charming. regardless of to-morrow. O. And carefully he bred me in decency and order. unknown. to labour bred. To plough and sow. O: No view nor care. I live to-day as well's I may.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Till down my weary bones I lay in everlasting slumber. was a match for Fortune fairly. O. O.

And show'rs began to fall. O. O. A cheerful honest-hearted clown I will prefer before you. O. or my goodnatur'd folly. . The sultry suns of Summer came. O. O. I am as well as a monarch in his palace. O. by Robert Burns But cheerful still. you leave your view the farther.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Mischance. And they hae sworn a solemn oath John Barleycorn should die. or by neglect. They took a plough and plough'd him down. but ne'er can make it farther. or nations to adore you. Some unforeseen misfortune comes gen'rally upon me. Three kings both great and high. 39 Tho' Fortune's frown still hunts me down. I'll ne'er be melancholy. John Barleycorn got up again. Put clods upon his head. When sometimes by my labour. But the cheerful Spring came kindly on. O: But come what will. And he grew thick and strong. O: But as daily bread is all I need. I earn a little money. I do not much regard her. with all her wonted malice. mistake. I've sworn it still. O: I make indeed my daily bread. O. All you who follow wealth and power with unremitting ardour. The more in this you look for bliss. O: Had you the wealth Potosi boasts. John Barleycorn: A Ballad There was three kings into the east. And they hae sworn a solemn oath John Barleycorn was dead. O. And sore surpris'd them all.

They hung him up before the storm. They've taen a weapon. And still. Like a rogue for forgerie. The sober Autumn enter'd mild. When he grew wan and pale. To work him farther woe. And turned him o'er and o'er. There let him sink or swim. For he crush'd him between two stones. long and sharp. They laid him down upon his back. He faded into age. by Robert Burns His head weel arm'd wi' pointed spears. o'er a scorching flame. And cudgell'd him full sore. 40 . They filled up a darksome pit With water to the brim. And cut him by the knee. But a miller us'd him worst of all. And then his enemies began To show their deadly rage. His colour sicken'd more and more. Then tied him fast upon a cart.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. They laid him out upon the floor. That no one should him wrong. His bending joints and drooping head Show'd he began to fail. They toss'd him to and fro. They wasted. as signs of life appear'd. They heaved in John Barleycorn. The marrow of his bones.

'Twill make the widow's heart to sing. Upon her cloot she coost a hitch. The An Unco Mournfu' Tale As Mailie. by Robert Burns And they hae taen his very heart's blood. Each man a glass in hand. 'Twill make your courage rise. And drank it round and round. And may his great posterity Ne'er fail in old Scotland! 41 1783 Death And Dying Words Of Poor Mailie. Of noble enterprise. 'Twill heighten all his joy. Tho' the tear were in her eye. Then let us toast John Barleycorn. Was ae day nibbling on the tether. An' owre she warsl'd in the ditch: . 'Twill make a man forget his woe. Their joy did more abound.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. For if you do but taste his blood. And still the more and more they drank. an' her lambs thegither. The Author's Only Pet Yowe. John Barleycorn was a hero bold..

wae's my heart! he could na mend it! He gaped wide. He saw her days were near-hand ended. an' grow To scores o' lambs. bid him never tie them mair. but naething spak. and lifted han's Poor Hughoc like a statue stan's. an' butcher's knives! But gie them guid cow-milk their fill. My helpless lambs. Till they be fit to fend themsel'. An' aye was guid to me an' mine.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. But. an' tods. bid him save their harmless lives. 42 . she did lie. an' packs o' woo'! "Tell him. whase lamentable face Appears to mourn my woefu' case! My dying words attentive hear. by Robert Burns There. "Tell him. An' bear them to my Master dear. Wi' wicked strings o' hemp or hair! But ca' them out to park or hill. An' let them wander at their will: So may his flock increase. dying. At langth poor Mailie silence brak. Frae dogs. e'en an' morn. "O. he was a Master kin'. I trust them wi' him. Wi' glowrin een. Wi' taets o' hay an' ripps o' corn. groaning. if e'er again he keep As muckle gear as buy a sheep— O. An' tent them duly. When Hughoc he cam doytin by. An' now my dying charge I gie him. "O thou.

"An' neist. my son an' heir. But aye keep mind to moop an' mell. An' bairns greet for them when they're dead. An' no to rin an' wear his cloots.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Gude keep thee frae a tether string! O. An' bid him burn this cursed tether. I lea'e my blessin wi' you baith: An' when you think upo' your mither. my yowie. An' for thy pains thou'se get my blather. "Now. like their great forbears. wanrestfu' pets— To slink thro' slaps. To pit some havins in his breast! "An' warn him—what I winna name— To stay content wi' yowes at hame. dinna fail. Wi' ony blastit. O. Wi' sheep o' credit like thysel'! "And now. moorland toop. To tell my master a' my tale. my bairns. silly thing. Of ither vile. wi' my last breath." 43 . honest Hughoc. may thou ne'er forgather up. "My poor toop-lamb. For mony a year come thro the shears: So wives will gie them bits o' bread. graceless brutes. or stocks o' kail! So may they. an' reave an' steal At stacks o' pease. bid him breed him up wi' care! An' if he live to be a beast. Mind to be kind to ane anither. Like ither menseless. by Robert Burns "An' may they never learn the gaets.

Thro' thievish greed. A lang half-mile she could descry him. keeps the spence Sin' Mailie's dead. Or mak our bardie. And clos'd her een amang the dead! 44 Poor Mailie's Elegy Lament in rhyme. Our bardie. when she did spy him. Poor Mailie's dead! It's no the loss o' warl's gear. poor Mailie turn'd her head. Our bardie's fate is at a close. Thro' a' the town she trotted by him. . She ran wi' speed: A friend mair faithfu' ne'er cam nigh him. Wi' saut tears trickling down your nose. Past a' remead! The last. by Robert Burns This said. wear The mourning weed: He's lost a friend an' neebor dear In Mailie dead. dowie. Wi' kindly bleat. sad cape-stane o' his woes. An' could behave hersel' wi' mense: I'll say't. she never brak a fence. Than Mailie dead. lanely.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. That could sae bitter draw the tear. lament in prose. I wat she was a sheep o' sense.

She was nae get o' moorland tips. An' down the briny pearls rowe For Mailie dead. wanchancie thing—a raip! It maks guid fellows girn an' gape. join the melancholious croon O' Robin's reed! His heart will never get aboon— His Mailie's dead! 45 Song—The Rigs O' Barley Tune—"Corn Rigs are bonie. by Robert Burns Or.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Frae 'yont the Tweed. owre the knowe. a' ye bards on bonie Doon! An' wha on Ayr your chanters tune! Come. A bonier fleesh ne'er cross'd the clips Than Mailie's dead. an' hairy hips. if he wanders up the howe. For her forbears were brought in ships. . An' Robin's bonnet wave wi' crape For Mailie dead. For bits o' bread. Her living image in her yowe Comes bleating till him. Wae worth the man wha first did shape That vile. O." It was upon a Lammas night. Wi' tauted ket. Wi' chokin dread.

wi' tentless heed. Beneath the moon's unclouded light. &c. I kiss'd her owre and owre again. Corn rigs. The time flew by. an' barley rigs. I held awa to Annie. That shone that hour so clearly! She aye shall bless that happy night Amang the rigs o' barley. Wi' sma' persuasion she agreed To see me thro' the barley. An' corn rigs are bonie: I'll ne'er forget that happy night. Amang the rigs wi' Annie. The sky was blue. an' barley rigs. Her heart was beating rarely: My blessings on that happy place. 46 . I set her down. by Robert Burns When corn rigs are bonie. Amang the rigs o' barley. I lov'd her most sincerely. I hae been blythe wi' comrades dear. Corn rigs. Corn rigs. I lock'd her in my fond embrace. the wind was still. Till.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. 'tween the late and early. an' barley rigs. The moon was shining clearly. &c. Amang the rigs o' barley: I ken't her heart was a' my ain. Amang the rigs o' barley! But by the moon and stars so bright. wi' right good will.

" Now westlin winds and slaught'ring guns Bring Autumn's pleasant weather. when I rove at night. The plover loves the mountains. wide o'er the plain. Delights the weary farmer. That happy night was worth them a'. I hae been joyfu' gath'rin gear. Amang the rigs o' barley. The path of man to shun it. &c. . The woodcock haunts the lonely dells. To muse upon my charmer. The partridge loves the fruitful fells.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. And the moon shines bright. Tho' three times doubl'd fairly. The moorcock springs on whirring wings Amang the blooming heather: Now waving grain. I had nae mair. an' barley rigs. Corn rigs. I hae been happy thinking: But a' the pleasures e'er I saw. The spreading thorn the linnet. 47 Song Composed In August Tune—"I had a horse. by Robert Burns I hae been merry drinking. The hazel bush o'erhangs the thrush. The soaring hern the fountains: Thro' lofty groves the cushat roves. Thus ev'ry kind their pleasure find.

'Mang moors an' mosses many. And view the charms of Nature. the fruited thorn. gory pinion! But. So dear can be as thou to me. My fair." Behind yon hills where Lugar flows. the fields in view. . Tyrannic man's dominion. Peggy dear. O. And ev'ry happy creature. Till the silent moon shine clearly. Not Autumn to the farmer. The rustling corn. All fading-green and yellow: Come let us stray our gladsome way. the ev'ning's clear. fondly prest. Swear how I love thee dearly: Not vernal show'rs to budding flow'rs. my lovely charmer! 48 Song Tune—"My Nanie. and leagues combine. I'll grasp thy waist. The sportsman's joy. and sweetly talk.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. The flutt'ring. Thick flies the skimming swallow. Some solitary wander: Avaunt. the murd'ring cry. and. away! the cruel sway. by Robert Burns The savage and the tender. Some social join. We'll gently walk. O. The sky is blue.

O. The night's baith mirk and rainy. My Nanie's charming. O. But I'm as blythe that hands his pleugh. I care na by. And I'll awa to Nanie. But live. O: The op'ning gowan. sweet. wat wi' dew. But what care I how few they be. An' has nae care but Nanie. My thoughts are a' my Nanie. As spotless as she's bonie. O. An' owre the hill to Nanie. An' I maun guide it cannie. an' love my Nanie. come woe. I'll tak what Heav'n will sen' me. A country lad is my degree. O. O. My riches a's my penny-fee. I'm welcome aye to Nanie. O. The westlin wind blaws loud an' shill. her heart is true.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. O: Nae ither care in life have I. O. O. But warl's gear ne'er troubles me. 49 . O. Nae artfu' wiles to win ye. O: May ill befa' the flattering tongue That wad beguile my Nanie. Nae purer is than Nanie. O. But I'll get my plaid an' out I'll steal. by Robert Burns The wintry sun the day has clos'd. O. O. Come weel. An' few there be that ken me. Our auld guidman delights to view His sheep an' kye thrive bonie. Her face is fair. an' young.

an' war'ly men. Green grow. Green grow. But gie me a cannie hour at e'en. An' 'twere na for the lasses. O. Ye're nought but senseless asses. Green grow. O. O! Green grow. The sweetest hours that e'er I spend. May a' gae tapsalteerie. An' tho' at last they catch them fast. ye sneer at this. An' war'ly cares. &c. Green grow the rashes. O. My arms about my dearie. O: What signifies the life o' man. He dearly lov'd the lasses. O: The wisest man the warl' e'er saw. &c.—Green grow the rashes. Are spent amang the lasses. &c. For you sae douce. An' riches still may fly them. O. Auld Nature swears. Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them. O. the lovely dears . There's nought but care on ev'ry han'. by Robert Burns 50 Song—Green Grow The Rashes A Fragment Chor. &c.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. The war'ly race may riches chase. O. O. O. In ev'ry hour that passes.

An' then she made the lasses. &c." quo' Findlay." "Indeed will I. an I come near thee." "Indeed will I. "Here this night if ye remain"— "I'll remain. "Gif I rise and let you in"— "Let me in. O." quo' Findlay. O: Her prentice han' she try'd on man." quo' Findlay. Green grow. "What mak' ye." quo' Findlay." quo' Findlay. "I fear ye'll bide till break o' day. ye'se nae be here:" "Indeed maun I. "What may pass within this bower"— . "In my bower if ye should stay"— "Let me stay. "I dread ye'll learn the gate again.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. 51 Song—Wha Is That At My Bower-Door Tune—"Lass." "Indeed will I." quo' Findlay." quo' Findlay." quo' Findlay. by Robert Burns Her noblest work she classes." "Wha is that at my bower-door?" "O wha is it but Findlay!" "Then gae your gate. sae like a thief?" "O come and see." quo' Findlay. "Before the morn ye'll work mischief:" "Indeed will I. "Ye'll keep me waukin wi' your din.

who fondly lov'd us. who. by Robert Burns "Let it pass. perhaps. The young.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Nay more. when we've involved others. Can reason down its agonizing throbs." quo' Findlay. when to all the evil of misfortune This sting is added. or our guilt brought on: In ev'ry other circumstance. the innocent. the pangs of keen remorse." quo' Findlay. after proper purpose of amendment. while his heart Feels all the bitter horrors of his crime. or wring the mind with anguish Beyond comparison the worst are those By our own folly. The torturing. that very love their cause of ruin! O burning hell! in all thy store of torments There's not a keener lash! Lives there a man so firm. gnawing consciousness of guilt— Of guilt. Can firmly force his jarring thoughts to peace? . And. "Blame thy foolish self!" Or worser far. That press the soul. "It was no deed of mine:" But. the mind Has this to say. "Ye maun conceal till your last hour:" "Indeed will I. 52 1784 Remorse: A Fragment Of all the numerous ills that hurt our peace.

Satan. To hell if he's gane thither. Hood. Muir In Tarbolton Mill An honest man here lies at rest As e'er God with his image blest. he made the best of this. The friend of man. He'll haud it weel thegither. and guide of youth: Few hearts like his. In Tarbolton Here Souter Hood in death does sleep.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Few heads with knowledge so informed: If there's another world. enviable man! O glorious magnanimity of soul! 53 Epitaph On Wm. Epitaph On James Grieve. Wm. by Robert Burns O happy. he lives in bliss. Then welcome. If there is none. . The friend of age. gie him thy gear to keep. Senr.. the friend of truth. Epitaph On My Own Friend And My Father's Friend. hail! damnation. Laird Of Boghead. happy. Tarbolton Here lies Boghead amang the dead In hopes to get salvation. But if such as he in Heav'n may be. with virtue warm'd.

Down Lowrie's Burn he took a turn. whatreck. The tender father. man. and attend! Here lie the loving husband's dear remains. The friend of man—to vice alone a foe. began a plea. And in the sea did jaw. at Quebec. man." When Guilford good our pilot stood An' did our hellim thraw. An' did nae less.—R. man. man: Then up they gat the maskin-pat. man. For "ev'n his failings lean'd to virtue's side. in full congress.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. he. by Robert Burns 54 Epitaph On My Ever Honoured Father O ye whose cheek the tear of pity stains. and the gen'rous friend. . Within America. at tea. The dauntless heart that fear'd no human pride. Then thro' the lakes Montgomery takes.B. Ae night. The pitying heart that felt for human woe. Draw near with pious rev'rence. And Carleton did ca'. man: But yet.] Ballad On The American War Tune—"Killiecrankie. I wat he was na slaw."^1 [Footnote 1: Goldsmith. Than quite refuse our law.

man. ae misty day. wi' knife an' fork. An' Charlie Fox threw by the box. before his band. Nae mercy had at a'. man. Burgoyne gaed up. wha stood the stour. Poor Tammy Gage within a cage Was kept at Boston—ha'. Wi' sword in hand. And Sackville dour. Amang his en'mies a'. Began to fear. Then Rockingham took up the game. man. like ony Turk. Cornwallis fought as lang's he dought. He hung it to the wa'. Then Montague. man. man. The German chief to thraw. 55 . man. When Shelburne meek held up his cheek. man. Wi' sword an' gun he thought a sin Guid Christian bluid to draw. In Saratoga shaw. Sir-Loin he hacked sma'. like spur an' whip. An' did the Buckskins claw. man: For Paddy Burke. man. by Robert Burns Montgomery-like did fa'. Till death did on him ca'. Then lost his way. Till Willie Howe took o'er the knowe For Philadelphia. But Clinton's glaive frae rust to save. man. But at New York. a fa'. man. man. man. an' Guilford too.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. man. An' lows'd his tinkler jaw. man. Till Fraser brave did fa'.

man: An' Caledon threw by the drone. man: Saint Stephen's boys. Wi' kindling eyes. An' swoor fu' rude. man). man: An' Chatham's wraith. man. 56 . Willie. wi' jarring noise. man. Till Suthron raise. Fox. He swept the stakes awa'. word an' blow. and Co. man. rise! Would I hae fear'd them a'. "Up. man. For North an' Fox united stocks. thro' dirt an' bluid. To mak it guid in law. cry'd. man!" Behind the throne then Granville's gone. in heav'nly graith. waur them a'. man: The Saxon lads. An' bore him to the wa'. Till the diamond's ace. an' coost their claise Behind him in a raw. They did his measures thraw. North. Gowff'd Willie like a ba'. "Willie. While slee Dundas arous'd the class Be-north the Roman wa'. of Indian race.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. wi' loud placads. An' did her whittle draw. by Robert Burns Conform to gospel law. An' Scotland drew her pipe an' blew. man. (Inspired bardies saw. Then clubs an' hearts were Charlie's cartes. On Chatham's boy did ca'. man. A secret word or twa. man. Led him a sair faux pas. man?" But. man.

And in your wicked. And winna say o'er far for thrice. drucken rants. Korah-like. tho' sma'. Breaks a' thegither. rude. Yet never met wi' that surprise That broke my rest. An' fill them fou. Your dreams and tricks Will send you. That A Girl In That Part Of The Country Was With A Child To Him. ready-witted Rankine. a-sinkin Straught to auld Nick's. Rankine On His Writing To The Poet. Ye mak a devil o' the saunts. by Robert Burns 57 Reply To An Announcement By J. The breaking of ae point. I hae been in for't ance or twice. The wale o' cocks for fun an' drinkin! There's mony godly folks are thinkin. Ae way or ither.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. . I am a keeper of the law In some sma' points. Some people tell me gin I fa'. But now a rumour's like to rise— A whaup's i' the nest! Epistle To John Rankine Enclosing Some Poems O Rough. Ye hae saw mony cracks an' cants. altho' not a'.

in mercy spare it! That holy robe. when ye hae an hour to spare. Tho' faith. A' that I bargain'd for. At Bunkjer's Hill. in my fun. Think. Rives't aff their back. when it comes near it. Like you or I. wha ye're skaithing: It's just the Blue-gown badge an' claithing O' saunts. wicked Sinner. an' wants. tak that. ye lea'e them naething To ken them by Frae ony unregenerate heathen. An' brought a paitrick to the grun'— 58 .Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. wha aften wear it— The lads in black. Hypocrisy. an' mair. But your curst wit. wi' cannie care. 'Twas ae night lately. Yon sang ye'll sen't. I will expect. And then their failings. And no neglect. O dinna tear it! Spare't for their sakes. I've play'd mysel a bonie spring. flaws. I've sent you here some rhyming ware. I gaed a rovin' wi' the gun. Are a' seen thro'. sma' heart hae I to sing! My muse dow scarcely spread her wing. An' danc'd my fill! I'd better gaen an' sair't the king. Sae. by Robert Burns An' fill them fou.

That sic a hen had got a shot. An' the wee pouts begun to cry. For this. wee thing was little hurt. But. Some auld. I was suspected for the plot. Deil-ma-care! Somebody tells the poacher-court The hale affair. 59 . Tho' I should herd the buckskin kye For't in Virginia. An' by my hen. The poor. o' guns the wale. And. I vow an' swear! The game shall pay. o'er muir an' dale. by Robert Burns A bonie hen. As soon's the clockin-time is by. us'd hands had taen a note. Ne'er thinkin they wad fash me for't. Trowth. So gat the whissle o' my groat. I straikit it a wee for sport. Lord. I'se hae sporting by an' by For my gowd guinea.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. But by my gun. as the twilight was begun. But twa-three draps about the wame. an' by her tail. they had muckle for to blame! 'Twas neither broken wing nor limb. niest year. I scorn'd to lie. Thought nane wad ken. An' by my pouther an' my hail. An' pay't the fee.

sweet. If thoughts o' thee. An' thole their blethers! It pits me aye as mad's a hare. My bonie lady. Tho' ye come here a wee unsought for. or yet thy mamie. E'en let them clash. Your most obedient. mishanter fa' me. Welcome! my bonie. . wee dochter. When time's expedient: Meanwhile I am. 60 A Poet's Welcome To His Love-Begotten Daughter^1 [Footnote 1: Burns never published this poem.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. The mair they talk. Tho' now they ca' me fornicator. But pennyworths again is fair.] The First Instance That Entitled Him To The Venerable Appellation Of Father Thou's welcome. Shall ever daunton me or awe me. respected Sir. Or if I blush when thou shalt ca' me Tyta or daddie. So I can rhyme nor write nae mair. by Robert Burns Scarce thro' the feathers. wean. I'm kent the better. An' tease my name in kintry clatter. An' baith a yellow George to claim. An auld wife's tongue's a feckless matter To gie ane fash.

Thou's be as braw and bienly clad. That I shall swear! Wee image o' my bonie Betty. And tak the counsel I shall gie thee. and near my heart I set thee Wi' as gude will As a' the priests had seen me get thee That's out o' hell. An' thy poor.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. by my faith. by Robert Burns And tho' your comin' I hae fought for. Yet. an' merit. As dear. worthless daddy's spirit. 61 . Baith kirk and queir. Tho' I should be the waur bestead. Without his failins. As fatherly I kiss and daut thee. 'Twill please me mair to see thee heir it. Sweet fruit o' mony a merry dint. ye're no unwrought for. As ony brat o' wedlock's bed. Lord grant that thou may aye inherit Thy mither's person. My funny toil is now a' tint. For if thou be what I wad hae thee. In a' thy station. Sin' thou came to the warl' asklent. grace. And thy young years as nicely bred Wi' education. In my last plack thy part's be in't The better ha'f o't. Which fools may scoff at. Than stockit mailens.

Fragment—The Mauchline Lady Tune—"I had a horse. And brag the name o't. The cost nor shame o't. And then you're prey for Rob Mossgiel. Beware a tongue that's smoothly hung. like Rob Mossgiel. Such witching books are baited hooks For rakish rooks. ye Mauchline belles. The frank address. Your fine Tom Jones and Grandisons. They heat your brains. Are worse than poisoned darts of steel. and fire your veins. 62 Song—O Leave Novels^1 [Footnote 1: Burns never published this poem. A heart that warmly seems to feel. . and politesse. But be a loving father to thee. Ye're safer at your spinning-wheel. That feeling heart but acts a part— 'Tis rakish art in Rob Mossgiel.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns.] O leave novels. Are all finesse in Rob Mossgiel. The frank address. I had nae mair. the soft caress. by Robert Burns I'll never rue my trouble wi' thee." When first I came to Stewart Kyle. They make your youthful fancies reel.

But when I came roun' by Mauchline toun. A mistress still I had aye. But Armour's the jewel for me o' them a'. where'er I rade. she smiles upon me.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. I never am happy when out of her sight. she's buxom and gay. And by a Mauchline lady. and free. by Robert Burns My mind it was na steady. Miss Markland's divine. . My heart was caught. Miss Smith she has wit. She dances. A touch of her lips it ravishes quite: She's always good natur'd. before I thought. they'd gotten it a'. and Miss Betty is braw: There's beauty and fortune to get wi' Miss Morton. good humour'd. The pride of the place and its neighbourhood a'. The Belles Of Mauchline In Mauchline there dwells six proper young belles." My girl she's airy. Their carriage and dress. Where'er I gaed. 63 Fragment—My Girl She's Airy Tune—"Black Jock. a stranger would guess. Her breath is as sweet as the blossoms in May. In Lon'on or Paris. she glances. Not dreadin anybody. Miss Miller is fine.

as old stories tell. Thou ne'er took such a bleth'rin bitch Into thy dark dominion! Epitaph On A Henpecked Country Squire As father Adam first was fool'd. O Death. had'st thou but spar'd his life. We freely wad exchanged the wife. it's my opinion.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. When deprived of her husband she loved so well. Thou'se get the saul o'boot. Tak thou the carlin's carcase aff.) Here lies man a woman ruled. Epigram On The Said Occasion O Death. (A case that's still too common. by Robert Burns 64 Epitaph On A Noisy Polemic Below thir stanes lie Jamie's banes. . Ev'n as he is. And a' been weel content. Whom we this day lament. cauld in his graff. Another One Queen Artemisia. The devil ruled the woman. The swap we yet will do't.

Wi'Death forgather'd by the way. Was driving to the tither warl' A mixtie—maxtie motley squad. Sae. Would have eat her dead lord. friendly. Epitaph On John Rankine Ae day. honest heart Sae tickled Death. But Queen Netherplace. on a slender pretence. In respect for the love and affection he show'd her. . they could na part. after viewing knives and garters. but—to save the expense! 65 On Tam The Chapman As Tam the chapman on a day. Wha cheerfully lays down his pack. Weel pleas'd. he greets a wight so famous. Not to show her respect.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. And mony a guilt-bespotted lad— Black gowns of each denomination. And thieves of every rank and station. And there blaws up a hearty crack: His social. She reduc'd him to dust and she drank up the powder. that gruesome carl. When called on to order the fun'ral direction. of a diff'rent complexion. And Death was nae less pleas'd wi' Thomas. by Robert Burns When deprived of her husband she loved so well. Death taks him hame to gie him quarters. as Death.

There's just the man I want. Nor 'mang the sp'ritual core present them. worn with care. Alas! alas! a devilish change indeed.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. And a green grassy hillock hides his head. ae honest man. i' faith!" And quickly stoppit Rankine's breath. To him that wintles in a halter: Ashamed himself to see the wretches. Without. To grace this damn'd infernal clan!" By Adamhill a glance he threw. "Lord God!" quoth he. He mutters. 66 Lines On The Author's Death Written With The Supposed View Of Being Handed To Rankine After The Poet's Interment He who of Rankine sang. glowrin at the bitches. at least. "I have it now. One ev'ning. Man Was Made To Mourn: A Dirge When chill November's surly blast Made fields and forests bare. "By God I'll not be seen behint them. I spied a man. whose aged step Seem'd weary. by Robert Burns From him that wears the star and garter. as I wander'd forth Along the banks of Ayr. lies stiff and dead. .

— I've seen yon weary winter-sun Twice forty times return. Where hundreds labour to support A haughty lordling's pride. Or manhood's active might. Which tenfold force gives Nature's law. And ev'ry time has added proofs. whither wand'rest thou?" Began the rev'rend sage. "Does thirst of wealth thy step constrain. prest with cares and woes. Or youthful pleasure's rage? Or haply. Licentious passions burn. by Robert Burns His face furrow'd o'er with years. Supported in his right: 67 . "O man! while in thy early years.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Out-spreading far and wide. youthful prime! Alternate follies take the sway. And hoary was his hair. That man was made to mourn. "The sun that overhangs yon moors. How prodigal of time! Mis-spending all thy precious hours— Thy glorious. with me to mourn The miseries of man. "Look not alone on youthful prime. That man was made to mourn. Man then is useful to his kind. "Young stranger. Too soon thou hast began To wander forth.

Regret. mean. and vile. o'erlabour'd wight. By Nature's law design'd. "A few seem favourites of fate. "If I'm design'd yon lordling's slave. think not all the rich and great Are likewise truly blest: But oh! what crowds in ev'ry land. In pleasure's lap carest. That man was made to mourn. Unmindful. Then Age and Want—oh! ill-match'd pair— Shew man was made to mourn. All wretched and forlorn. remorse. And see his lordly fellow-worm The poor petition spurn. Yet. Thro' weary life this lesson learn. With cares and sorrows worn. and shame! And man. So abject. Who begs a brother of the earth To give him leave to toil.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. 68 . "Many and sharp the num'rous ills Inwoven with our frame! More pointed still we make ourselves. by Robert Burns But see him on the edge of life.— Man's inhumanity to man Makes countless thousands mourn! "See yonder poor. tho' a weeping wife And helpless offspring mourn. whose heav'n-erected face The smiles of love adorn.

why am I subject to His cruelty."—Pope. But. O a' ye pious godly flocks. Or. let not this too much. Had there not been some recompense To comfort those that mourn! "O Death! the poor man's dearest friend. sure. the wealthy fear thy blow From pomp and pleasure torn. honest man Had never.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. been born. . The kindest and the best! Welcome the hour my aged limbs Are laid with thee at rest! The great. But fool with fool is barbarous civil war. Disturb thy youthful breast: This partial view of human-kind Is surely not the last! The poor. oh! a blest relief for those That weary-laden mourn!" 69 The Twa Herds. The Holy Tulyie An Unco Mournfu' Tale "Blockheads with reason wicked wits abhor. oppressed. my son. or scorn? Or why has man the will and pow'r To make his fellow mourn? "Yet. by Robert Burns Why was an independent wish E'er planted in my mind? If not.

Or worrying tykes? Or wha will tent the waifs an' crocks. drank. Ye'll see how New-Light herds will whistle. O. An' think it fine! The Lord's cause ne'er gat sic a twistle. aye clear. Moddie. Wha now will keep you frae the fox. an' wordy Russell. O. Frae Calvin's well. The e'er ga'e gospel horn a blast These five an' twenty simmers past— Oh. But by the brutes themselves eleckit. dool to tell! Hae had a bitter black out-cast Atween themsel'.— O.^1 man.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. What flock wi' Moodie's flock could rank?— Sae hale and hearty every shank! Nae poison'd soor Arminian stank He let them taste. by Robert Burns Weel fed on pastures orthodox. Moodie of Riccarton. About the dykes? The twa best herds in a' the wast. Ye wha were ne'er by lairds respeckit To wear the plaid. Mr. Sin' I hae min'.] 70 . sic a feast! [Footnote 1: Rev.^2 How could you raise so vile a bustle. sirs! whae'er wad hae expeckit Your duty ye wad sae negleckit. To be their guide.

There's Duncan^3 deep." "hypocrite. And New-Light herds could nicely drub Or pay their skin. Weel kend his voice thro' a' the wood. But chiefly thou. John Russell of Kilmarnock.^5 We trust in thee. Or nobly fling the gospel club. What herd like Russell tell'd his tale. His voice was heard thro' muir and dale. He fine a mangy sheep could scrub. At the first sight. An' sell their skin. an' Peebles^4 shaul. apostle Auld. He kenn'd the Lord's sheep.] The thummart. ilka tail. an' tod. Could shake them o'er the burning dub. Say neither's liein! A' ye wha tent the gospel fauld. het an' cauld. like "villain. Or heave them in.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. And names." Ilk ither gi'en. willcat. He smell'd their ilka hole an' road. wi' laughin spite. 71 . While New-Light herds. Owre a' the height. Sic twa—O! do I live to see't?— Sic famous twa should disagree't. An' saw gin they were sick or hale. brock. That thou wilt work them. by Robert Burns [Footnote 2: Rev. An' weel he lik'd to shed their bluid. Baith out an in.

] [Footnote 4: Rev. I winna name. We thought aye death wad bring relief. An' that curs'd rascal ca'd M'Quhae. 72 . O! a' ye flocks o'er a. Auld of Mauchline. to our grief. the hills. I hope frae heav'n to see them yet In fiery flame. Wi' vengefu' paws. And mony a ane that I could tell. [Footnote 3: Dr. Wm. Ane to succeed him. Wha fain wad openly rebel. by Robert Burns Till they agree. Consider. I doubt he's but a grey nick quill.^8 And baith the Shaws. There's Smith^12 for ane. Wm. But he has gotten. and fells. An' that ye'll fin'.^9 That aft hae made us black an' blae. Auld Wodrow^10 lang has hatch'd mischief. I meikle dread him. M'Gill^7 has wrought us meikle wae. moors. sirs. Peebles of Newton-on-Ayr. how we're beset. Robert Duncan of Dundonald.] [Footnote 5: Rev.] Dalrymple^6 has been lang our fae. By mosses. meadows. There's scarce a new herd that we get.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. But comes frae 'mang that cursed set. Forby turn-coats amang oursel'.^11 A chield wha'll soundly buff our beef.

An' that fell cur ca'd Common Sense.] [Footnote 10: Dr.] [Footnote 8: Minister of St. a young assistant and successor to Wodrow. join your counsel and your skills To cowe the lairds. Dalrymple.] M'Quhae's pathetic manly sense.] [Footnote 11: Rev. John M'Math. Dr. Wi' Smith.] [Footnote 12: Rev. wha thro' the heart can glance. An' get the brutes the power themsel's To choose their herds. M'Gill. An' guid M'Math.] [Footnote 7: Rev. George Smith of Galston. Be banished o'er the sea to France: Let him bark there. and Dr. Peter Wodrow of Tarbolton.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Andrew Shaw of Craigie. Wm. Then Shaw's an' D'rymple's eloquence. Dalrymple of Ayr. Then Orthodoxy yet may prance. An' Learning in a woody dance. Quivox. 73 1785 .] [Footnote 9: Dr. That bites sae sair. May a' pack aff. David Shaw of Coylton. colleague of Dr. M'Gill's close nervous excellence [Footnote 6: Rev. by Robert Burns Come.

"^1 Auld age ne'er mind a feg. I set me down to pass the time. To see how things are shar'd. lad. That live sae bien an' snug: I tent less. at times. and want less Their roomy fire-side. As lang's we're hale and fier: "Mair spier na. frae being sour. Ben to the chimla lug. And ken na how to wair't. Davie. How best o' chiels are whiles in want. westlin jingle. The last o't. and canker. While frosty winds blaw in the drift. But hanker. In hamely. An' bar the doors wi' driving snaw.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. To see their cursed pride. nor fear na. ne'er fash your head. An' spin a verse or twa o' rhyme. While coofs on countless thousands rant. It's hardly in a body's pow'r To keep. by Robert Burns 74 Epistle To Davie. We're fit to win our daily bread. the warst o't . An' hing us owre the ingle. I grudge a wee the great-folk's gift. But. A Brother Poet January While winds frae aff Ben-Lomond blaw. Tho' we hae little gear.

However Fortune kick the ba'. Nae mair then we'll care then. We'll sit an' sowth a tune. What tho'. the hills and woods. To see the coming year: On braes when we please.] Yet then content could make us blest. And blackbirds whistle clear. Nae farther can we fa'. you'll find still. An' sing't when we hae done. we'd snatch a taste Of truest happiness. by Robert Burns Is only but to beg. Has aye some cause to smile. The sweeping vales. sometimes. But either house or hal'. A comfort this nae sma'. In days when daisies deck the ground. Syne rhyme till't we'll time till't. With honest joy our hearts will bound.—R. great distress! [Footnote 1: Ramsay. we know not where. Ev'n then. like commoners of air. 75 . The honest heart that's free frae a' Intended fraud or guile. Are free alike to all. An' mind still. B. and foaming floods.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Is doubtless. To lie in kilns and barns at e'en. When banes are craz'd. then. Yet nature's charms. and bluid is thin. We wander out.

Nor make our scanty pleasures less. neglecting a' that's guid. by Robert Burns It's no in titles nor in rank. They riot in excess! Baith careless and fearless Of either heaven or hell. Esteeming and deeming It's a' an idle tale! Then let us cheerfu' acquiesce. God's creatures they oppress! Or else. it's no in lear. mair. or great. Nae treasures. nor pleasures Could make us happy lang. that sic as you and I. are we less blest than they. Wha scarcely tent us in their way. Wha drudge an' drive thro' wet and dry. We may be wise. 76 . or rich. As hardly worth their while? Alas! how aft in haughty mood. The heart aye's the part aye That makes us right or wrang.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. It's no in books. To purchase peace and rest: It's no in makin' muckle. To make us truly blest: If happiness hae not her seat An' centre in the breast. Wi' never-ceasing toil. It's no in wealth like Lon'on bank. Think ye. Think ye. But never can be blest.

The real guid and ill: Tho' losses an' crosses Be lessons right severe. 77 . your dearest part. And I my darling Jean! It warms me. There's wit there.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. it charms me. even should misfortunes come. ye'll get there. Davie. To mention but her name: It heats me. But tent me. by Robert Burns By pining at our state: And. They let us ken oursel'. There's a' the pleasures o' the heart. hae met wi' some— An's thankfu' for them yet. ace o' hearts! (To say aught less wad wrang the cartes. Ye'll find nae other where. here wha sit. They gie the wit of age to youth. The lover an' the frien'. An' joys the very best. it beets me. They make us see the naked truth. I. An' sets me a' on flame! O all ye Pow'rs who rule above! O Thou whose very self art love! Thou know'st my words sincere! The life-blood streaming thro' my heart. An' joys that riches ne'er could buy. And flatt'ry I detest) This life has joys for you and I. Ye hae your Meg.

O hear my fervent pray'r. how that name inspires my style! The words come skelpin. Thou Being. Had it not been for you! Fate still has blest me with a friend. and greet with My Davie. or my Jean! O. And oft a more endearing band— A tie more tender still. it brightens The tenebrific scene. To meet with. this world's thorny ways Had number'd out my weary days. And solace to my breast. Her dear idea brings relief. Is not more fondly dear! When heart-corroding care and grief Deprive my soul of rest. 78 . All-seeing. the friendly tear.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. It lightens. In ev'ry care and ill. by Robert Burns Or my more dear immortal part. As Phoebus an' the famous Nine Were glowrin owre my pen. and make her Thy most peculiar care! All hail! ye tender feelings dear! The smile of love. Still take her. The sympathetic glow! Long since. rank an' file. Amaist before I ken! The ready measure rins as fine.

Hamilton's being one of the most irreproachable and truly respectable characters in the county. I'll light now. came off but second best. Sends ane to heaven an' ten to hell. wizen'd hide. Robert Aiken. And no for ony gude or ill They've done afore Thee! I bless and praise Thy matchless might. And then he'll hilch. as it pleases best Thysel'. For gifts an' grace A burning and a shining light To a' this place. That I am here afore Thy sight.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. 79 Holy Willie's Prayer "And send the godly in a pet to pray. Gavin Hamilton—Holy Willie and his priest. the muse overheard him [Holy Willie] at his devotions. In a sessional process with a gentleman in Mauchline—a Mr. Till ance he's fairly het. When thousands Thou hast left in night. Holy Willie was a rather oldish bachelor elder. and much and justly famed for that polemical chattering. On losing the process. owing partly to the oratorical powers of Mr. and stilt. but chiefly to Mr. an' jimp. which ends in tippling orthodoxy. by Robert Burns My spaviet Pegasus will limp. Hamilton's counsel. as follows:— O Thou. in the parish of Mauchline. And rin an unco fit: But least then the beast then Should rue this hasty ride. Father Auld. A' for Thy glory. Argument."—Pope. Mr. Who. . after full hearing in the presbytery of Ayr. and dight now His sweaty. who in the heavens does dwell. and for that spiritualized bawdry which refines to liquorish devotion.

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. in wardly trust. Defil'd wi' sin. O Lord. In burnin lakes. Where damned devils roar and yell. a buckler. an' swearers swear. At times I'm fash'd wi' fleshly lust: An' sometimes. too. an' dancin here. by Robert Burns What was I. Vile self gets in: But Thou remembers we are dust. That I should get sic exaltation. Chain'd to their stakes. Thou kens what zeal I bear. An' singin there. and example. O Lord! confess I must. But yet. To a' Thy flock. When drinkers drink. to weep and wail. I'm here a pillar o' Thy temple. To show thy grace is great and ample. 80 . I wha deserve most just damnation For broken laws. Thro' Adam's cause? When frae my mither's womb I fell. Five thousand years ere my creation. Strong as a rock. Yet I am here a chosen sample. For I am keepit by Thy fear Free frae them a'. Thou might hae plunged me in hell. A guide. Wi' great and sma'. or my generation. To gnash my gums.

bless Thy chosen in this place. For here Thou hast a chosen race: But God confound their stubborn face. Or else. Lord. Thy han' maun e'en be borne. wi' Meg— Thy pardon I sincerely beg. Maybe Thou lets this fleshly thorn Buffet Thy servant e'en and morn. An' blast their name. mind Gaw'n Hamilton's deserts. Frae God's ain priest the people's hearts He steals awa. That he's sae gifted: If sae. that Friday I was fou. When I cam near her. an' swears. three times I trow— But Lord. Thou kens. by Robert Burns O Lord! yestreen. an' plays at cartes. He drinks. Lord. Yet has sae mony takin arts. I farther maun allow. O! may't ne'er be a livin plague To my dishonour. An' I'll ne'er lift a lawless leg Again upon her. Lest he owre proud and high shou'd turn. Wi' great and sma'. Besides. Thou kens. Wha bring Thy elders to disgrace An' public shame.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Thy servant true Wad never steer her. Wi' Leezie's lass. 81 . Until Thou lift it.

Lord visit them. Held up his head. by Robert Burns An' when we chasten'd him therefor. an' dinna spare. But. Lord. shakin. An' p-'d wi' dread. Against that Presbyt'ry o' Ayr. Kail an' potatoes. Lord. Thou kens how he bred sic a splore. That I for grace an' gear may shine. Amen. Amen! 82 . For their misdeeds. While he. Lord. in Thy day o' vengeance try him. visit them wha did employ him. But for Thy people's sake.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. And pass not in Thy mercy by 'em. O Lord. Lord. And a' the glory shall be thine. Nor hear their pray'r. Lord. Thy strong right hand. remember me an' mine Wi' mercies temp'ral an' divine. my God! that glib-tongu'd Aiken. An' dinna spare. hear my earnest cry and pray'r. wi' hingin lip an' snakin. destroy 'em. make it bare Upo' their heads. To think how we stood sweatin'.— Curse Thou his basket and his store. Excell'd by nane. My vera heart and flesh are quakin. An' set the warld in a roar O' laughing at us.

alas! has gi'en him o'er. Justice. Sir.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. I fear. Nae wonder he's as black's the grun. I see. Poor. the left-hand road. For pity ye have nane. But hear me. And some great lies were never penn'd: . Look something to your credit. Your pity I will not implore. A coof like him wad stain your name. as sure's a gun. see him. His saul has ta'en some other way. Death and Doctor Hornbook A True Story Some books are lies frae end to end. Your brunstane devilship. Stop! there he is. Has got him there before ye. deil as ye are. silly body. But haud your nine-tail cat a wee. Till ance you've heard my story. If it were kent ye did it. by Robert Burns 83 Epitaph On Holy Willie Here Holy Willie's sair worn clay Taks up its last abode. Observe wha's standing wi' him. And mercy's day is gane.

The rising moon began to glowre The distant Cumnock hills out-owre: To count her horns. but just had plenty. Which lately on a night befell. I set mysel'. stanes. 84 . That pat me in an eerie swither. I took a bicker. kenn'd eye Frae ghaists an' witches. In holy rapture. I cou'd na tell. by Robert Burns Ev'n ministers they hae been kenn'd. an' bushes. I was na fou. I stacher'd whiles. Tho' leeward whiles. against my will. wi' a my pow'r. To keep me sicker. I was come round about the hill. An' hillocks. But whether she had three or four. The clachan yill had made me canty.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. And nail't wi' Scripture. Setting my staff wi' a' my skill. I there wi' Something did forgather. but yet too tent aye To free the ditches. A rousing whid at times to vend. An' todlin down on Willie's mill. But this that I am gaun to tell. Is just as true's the Deil's in hell Or Dublin city: That e'er he nearer comes oursel' 'S a muckle pity.

The queerest shape that e'er I saw. "Guid-een. At length. gie's your hand." quo' he. They were as thin. Ye're maybe come to stap my breath. says I. there's a gully!" "Gudeman. tak care o' skaith See. by Robert Burns An' awfu' scythe. I red ye weel. Its stature seem'd lang Scotch ells twa. as sharp an' sma' As cheeks o' branks. I'm no designed to try its mettle. weel!" says I. "Friend! whare ye gaun? Will ye go back?" It spak right howe. And then its shanks. an' sae we're gree't. billie. But be na fley'd. Clear-dangling. A three-tae'd leister on the ither Lay. I wad na mind it. "put up your whittle." quo' I. out-owre ae shouther. But tent me. "Friend! hae ye been mawin. hang. large an' lang." "Weel. "a bargain be't. no that spittle Out-owre my beard. For fient a wame it had ava. When ither folk are busy sawin!"^1 I seem'd to make a kind o' stan' But naething spak. "Guid faith."—Quoth I. Come.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. I wad be kittle To be mislear'd. 85 . But if I did.—"My name is Death.

lang time indeed Sin' I began to nick the thread.—R. gie's your news. To stap or scar me. The weans haud out their fingers laughin."^2 [Footnote 1: This recontre happened in seed-time.] [Footnote 2: An epidemical fever was then raging in that country. Till ane Hornbook's^3 ta'en up the trade. An' sae maun Death. 86 .] "Ay.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns.—R. ay!" quo' he. At mony a house. Has made them baith no worth a f-t. They hae pierc'd mony a gallant heart. 1785.B. an' shook his head.B. by Robert Burns We'll ease our shanks an tak a seat— Come. "Ye ken Hornbook i' the clachan. But Doctor Hornbook. An' pouk my hips. This while ye hae been mony a gate. An' choke the breath: Folk maun do something for their bread. "Sax thousand years are near-hand fled Sin' I was to the butching bred. here's a scythe. An' mony a scheme in vain's been laid. And faith! he'll waur me. wi' his art An' cursed skill. "It's e'en a lang. Deil mak his king's-hood in spleuchan! He's grown sae weel acquaint wi' Buchan^4 And ither chaps. an' there's dart. "See.

nae farther gane. An' had sae fortify'd the part. Hornbook. is professionally a brother of the sovereign Order of the Ferula. Fient haet o't wad hae pierc'd the heart Of a kail-runt. Wi' less. Altho' their face he ne'er had kend it. I threw a noble throw at ane. But did nae mair. But yet the bauld Apothecary Withstood the shock.] [Footnote 4: Burchan's Domestic Medicine. It just play'd dirl on the bane. is at once an apothecary. But deil-ma-care.—R.B. Dr. an' sent it. "Hornbook was by. As soon's he smells 't. by Robert Burns Damn'd haet they'll kill! "'Twas but yestreen. Baith their disease. I might as weel hae tried a quarry O' hard whin rock.—R. I've hundreds slain. by intuition and inspiration. wi' ready art. and physician. but. It was sae blunt. and what will mend it. "I drew my scythe in sic a fury.B. I'm sure.] That when I looked to my dart.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Just—in a kail-blade. At once he tells 't. "Ev'n them he canna get attended. I near-hand cowpit wi' my hurry. [Footnote 3: This gentleman. 87 . surgeon.

In twa-three year. what you please. mugs. Or mite-horn shavings. Their Latin names as fast he rattles as A B C. He can content ye. 88 . Sal-alkali o' midge-tail clippings. a' doctor's saws an' whittles. and trees. scrapings. Tak ye nae fear: They'll be trench'd wi' mony a sheugh. "if that thae news be true! His braw calf-ward whare gowans grew. Aqua-fontis. The farina of beans an' pease. Distill'd per se. filings. by Robert Burns "And then." "Waes me for Johnie Ged's^5 Hole now. an' bottles. True sal-marinum o' the seas." Quoth I. A' kind o' boxes. And mony mae. Of a' dimensions. Kirkyards will soon be till'd eneugh.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. uncommon weapons. earths. They'll ruin Johnie!" The creature grain'd an eldritch laugh. an' mettles. "Forbye some new. Urinus spiritus of capons. shapes. Sae white and bonie. He has't in plenty. And says "Ye needna yoke the pleugh. "Calces o' fossils. He's sure to hae. Nae doubt they'll rive it wi' the plew.

In Hornbook's care. Thus does he poison. a fair strae-death. an' slay. That Hornbook's skill Has clad a score i' their last claith. By loss o' blood or want of breath This night I'm free to tak my aith. Thus goes he on from day to day. Horn sent her aff to her lang hame. Yet stops me o' my lawfu' prey. When it was sair. Or some curmurring in his guts. [Footnote 5: The grave-digger.] "That's just a swatch o' Hornbook's way. But ne'er spak mair. To hide it there. Whase wife's twa nieves were scarce weel-bred Gat tippence-worth to mend her head. His only son for Hornbook sets. Was laird himsel'. "A country laird had ta'en the batts. The wife slade cannie to her bed. An' pays him well: The lad.B.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. 89 .—R. to hide the shame. "An honest wabster to his trade. An's weel paid for't. "A bonie lass—ye kend her name— Some ill-brewn drink had hov'd her wame. kill. by Robert Burns "Whare I kill'd ane. She trusts hersel'. By drap an' pill. for twa guid gimmer-pets.

He gets his fairin!" But just as he began to tell. At length we had a hearty yokin At sang about. Tho' dinna ye be speakin o't. An' morning poussie whiddin seen. And sae did Death. Lapraik. And there was muckle fun and jokin. I'll wad a groat. Inspire my muse. Neist time we meet. in an unknown frien'. This freedom. Ye need na doubt. hark! I'll tell you of a plot.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. The auld kirk-hammer strak the bell Some wee short hour ayont the twal'. On Fasten—e'en we had a rockin. As dead's a herrin. An' paitricks scraichin loud at e'en. . Which rais'd us baith: I took the way that pleas'd mysel'. 1785 While briers an' woodbines budding green. An Old Scottish Bard April 1. I'll nail the self-conceited sot. by Robert Burns Wi' his damn'd dirt: "But. 90 Epistle To J. To ca' the crack and weave our stockin. I pray excuse.

An' either douce or merry tale. He had few matches. Thought I "Can this be Pope. Or Beattie's wark?" They tauld me 'twas an odd kind chiel About Muirkirk. It was sae fine: That. Tho' I should pawn my pleugh an' graith. amang the rest. Aboon them a' it pleas'd me best. It thirl'd the heart-strings thro' the breast. A pint an' gill I'd gie them baith. It pat me fidgin-fain to hear't. an' swoor an aith. A' to the life. manly bosoms feel. Or witty catches— 'Tween Inverness an' Teviotdale. I've scarce heard ought describ'd sae weel. few cam near't. Or rhymes an' sangs he'd made himsel. 91 . or Steele. That nane excell'd it. To hear your crack. At some dyke-back. Then up I gat. by Robert Burns There was ae sang. set him to a pint of ale. What gen'rous. Or die a cadger pownie's death.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Then a' that kent him round declar'd He had ingine. An' sae about him there I speir't. That some kind husband had addrest To some sweet wife.

what the matter? Whene'er my muse does on me glance. Your critic-folk may cock their nose. I should tell. and come out asses. An' hae to learning nae pretence. And say. But just a rhymer like by chance. What sairs your grammars? Ye'd better taen up spades and shools. by Robert Burns But. Amaist as soon as I could spell. You wha ken hardly verse frae prose. by your leaves. Tho' rude an' rough— Yet crooning to a body's sel' Does weel eneugh. A set o' dull. What's a' your jargon o' your schools— Your Latin names for horns an' stools? If honest Nature made you fools. Plain truth to speak. first an' foremost. To mak a sang?" But. conceited hashes Confuse their brains in college classes! They gang in stirks. Yet. in a sense. Or knappin-hammers. my learned foes. "How can you e'er propose. I to the crambo-jingle fell.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. I am nae poet. An' syne they think to climb Parnassus By dint o' Greek! 92 . I jingle at her. Ye're maybe wrang.

if your catalogue be fu'. But friends. an' folk that wish me well. if ye hae friends enow. They sometimes roose me. as mony still As far abuse me. I'm on your list. sir. 93 . by Robert Burns Gie me ae spark o' nature's fire. I winna blaw about mysel. Then tho' I drudge thro' dub an' mire At pleugh or cart.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. tho' hamely in attire. Or Fergusson's the bauld an' slee. Tho' I maun own. There's ae wee faut they whiles lay to me. O for a spunk o' Allan's glee. Maybe some ither thing they gie me. are few. my friend to be. That's a' the learning I desire. Or bright Lapraik's. Yet. I'se no insist: But. May touch the heart. As ill I like my fauts to tell. I like the lasses—Gude forgie me! For mony a plack they wheedle frae me At dance or fair. Now. If I could get it. If I can hit it! That would be lear eneugh for me. They weel can spare. gif ye want ae friend that's true. Tho' real friends. My muse. I b'lieve.

Awa ye selfish. we'se gar him clatter. An' hae a swap o' rhymin-ware Wi' ane anither.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. An' kirsen him wi' reekin water. To cheer our heart. come to my arms. to conclude my lang epistle. I should be proud to meet you there. Who hold your being on the terms. Who am. While I can either sing or whistle. war'ly race. 94 . Your friend and servant. My friends." Come to my bowl. "Each aid the others. If we forgather. We'se gie ae night's discharge to care. sense. by Robert Burns But Mauchline Race. Wha think that havins. most fervent. Ev'n love an' friendship should give place To catch—the—plack! I dinna like to see your face. Twa lines frae you wad gar me fissle. Syne we'll sit down an' tak our whitter. we'se be acquainted better Before we part. But ye whom social pleasure charms Whose hearts the tide of kindness warms. Nor hear your crack. An' faith. or Mauchline Fair. The four-gill chap. my brothers! But. an' grace. As my auld pen's worn to the gristle.

This vera night. Forjesket sair. . So dinna ye affront your trade. by Robert Burns 95 Second Epistle To J. Lapraik April 21." says I. auld Lapraik.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. the king o' hearts. But rhyme it right. For his kind letter. That trowth. To own I'm debtor To honest-hearted. An' something sair. "Ye ken we've been sae busy This month an' mair. My awkart Muse sair pleads and begs I would na write. The tapetless. She's saft at best an' something lazy: Quo' she. This hour on e'enin's edge I take. with weary legs. my head is grown right dizzie. 1785 While new-ca'd kye rowte at the stake An' pownies reek in pleugh or braik." Her dowff excuses pat me mad. an' that a hearty blaud. "Shall bauld Lapraik. ramfeezl'd hizzie. Or dealing thro' amang the naigs Their ten-hours' bite. "Conscience. Rattlin the corn out-owre the rigs. "ye thowless jade! I'll write.

But. I'll laugh an' sing. She 's gien me mony a jirt an' fleg.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Tho' fortune use you hard an' sharp. Yet ye'll neglect to shaw your parts An' thank him kindly?" Sae I gat paper in a blink. I vow I'll close it. "Before I sleep a wink. I'll prose it!" Sae I've begun to scrawl. An' if ye winna mak it clink. Or some hotch-potch that's rightly neither. As lang's I dow! Now comes the sax-an'-twentieth simmer 96 . Sin' I could striddle owre a rig. Let time mak proof. ne'er grudge an' carp. kittle up your moorland harp Wi' gleesome touch! Ne'er mind how Fortune waft and warp. An' down gaed stumpie in the ink: Quoth I. She's but a bitch. Come. But I shall scribble down some blether Just clean aff-loof. an' shake my leg. by Robert Burns Tho' mankind were a pack o' cartes. but whether In rhyme. My worthy friend. Roose you sae weel for your deserts. or baith thegither. or prose. In terms sae friendly. By Jove. tho' I should beg Wi' lyart pow. by the Lord.

big wi' cent. Thro' Scotland wide. adrift. As by he walks? "O Thou wha gies us each guid gift! Gie me o' wit an' sense a lift. Behint a kist to lie an' sklent. But. While caps and bonnets aff are taen. by Robert Burns I've seen the bud upon the timmer. But yet. An' muckle wame. Still persecuted by the limmer Frae year to year. Wha thinks himsel nae sheep-shank bane." Damnation then would be our fate. that's no the gate We learn our creed. per cent. Or pursue-proud. Beyond remead. Wi' cits nor lairds I wadna shift. despite the kittle kimmer. am here. But lordly stalks. feudal thane. Then turn me. thanks to heaven. In some bit brugh to represent A bailie's name? Or is't the paughty. Rob. 97 . Do ye envy the city gent. "On pain o' hell be rich an' great. In a' their pride!" Were this the charter of our state. For thus the royal mandate ran. I. Wi' ruffl'd sark an' glancing cane. if thou please.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns.

The forest's fright.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Poor. Wi' gratefu' heart I thank you brawlie. While sordid sons o' Mammon's line Are dark as night! Tho' here they scrape. Or in some day-detesting owl May shun the light. . Ochiltree. winsome Willie. "The social. To reach their native. Still closer knit in friendship's ties. friendly. hopes an' joys. Their worthless nievefu' of a soul May in some future carcase howl." O mandate glorious and divine! The ragged followers o' the Nine. And none but he. an' growl. In some mild sphere. by Robert Burns When first the human race began. thoughtless devils! yet may shine In glorious light.—May. Then may Lapraik and Burns arise. honest man. Each passing year! 98 Epistle To William Simson Schoolmaster. kindred skies. Whate'er he be— 'Tis he fulfils great Nature's plan. And sing their pleasures. an' squeeze. 1785 I gat your letter.

(O sad disease!) I kittle up my rustic reed. A deathless name. Should I but dare a hope to speel Wi' Allan. But I'se believe ye kindly meant it: I sud be laith to think ye hinted Ironic satire. 99 . sidelins sklented On my poor Musie.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. She's gotten poets o' her ain. My senses wad be in a creel. Auld Coila now may fidge fu' fain. Should I believe. I scarce excuse ye. musty arts! My curse upon your whunstane hearts. the writer-chiel. The braes o' fame. Tho' in sic phraisin terms ye've penn'd it. by Robert Burns Tho' I maun say't. It gies me ease. Ye E'nbrugh gentry! The tithe o' what ye waste at cartes Wad stow'd his pantry!) Yet when a tale comes i' my head. (O Fergusson! thy glorious parts Ill suited law's dry. I wad be silly. Or lassies gie my heart a screed— As whiles they're like to be my dead. And unco vain. or wi' Gilbertfield. my coaxin billie Your flatterin strain. Or Fergusson.

as story tells. Nae poet thought her worth his while. At Wallace' name. But tune their lays. set your fit to mine. Till echoes a' resound again Her weel-sung praise. An' cock your crest. Lugar. Whare glorious Wallace Aft bure the gree. While Irwin. an' Doon Naebody sings. an' Seine.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Frae Suthron billies. Owre Scotland rings. Ayr. She lay like some unkenn'd-of-isle Beside New Holland. to monie a tune. Thames. Her moors red-brown wi' heather bells. what Scottish blood But boils up in a spring-tide flood! 100 . by Robert Burns Chiels wha their chanters winna hain. Or whare wild-meeting oceans boil Besouth Magellan. Glide sweet in monie a tunefu' line: But Willie. Yarrow an' Tweed. Th' Illissus. her dens and dells. We'll gar our streams an' burnies shine Up wi' the best! We'll sing auld Coila's plains an' fells. To set her name in measur'd style. Ramsay an' famous Fergusson Gied Forth an' Tay a lift aboon. Her banks an' braes. Tiber.

nae poet ever fand her. And jinkin hares. An' no think lang: O sweet to stray. While thro' the braes the cushat croods With wailfu' cry! Ev'n winter bleak has charms to me. Or glorious died! O. The lang. an' pensive ponder A heart-felt sang! The war'ly race may drudge an' drive. Hog-shouther. jundie. in amorous whids. When winds rave thro' the naked tree. Still pressing onward. Their loves enjoy. an' strive. dark night! The muse. Wi' life an light. Or frosts on hills of Ochiltree Are hoary gray. sweet are Coila's haughs an' woods. When lintwhites chant amang the buds. in gusty storms. Dark'ning the day! O Nature! a' thy shews an' forms To feeling. stretch. red-wat-shod. 101 . Adown some trottin burn's meander. Or blinding drifts wild-furious flee. by Robert Burns Oft have our fearless fathers strode By Wallace' side. Till by himsel he learn'd to wander. pensive hearts hae charms! Whether the summer kindly warms. Or winter howls.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns.

Black fiend. "my rhyme-composing" brither! We've been owre lang unkenn'd to ither: Now let us lay our heads thegither. And I. In Robert Burns. They took nae pains their speech to balance.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. infernal! While Highlandmen hate tools an' taxes. wi' pleasure. In days when mankind were but callans At grammar. I had amaist forgotten clean. Count on a friend. grumbling hive Bum owre their treasure. 102 Postcript My memory's no worth a preen. fat braxies. on her axis. . by Robert Burns Let me fair Nature's face descrive. Shall let the busy. logic. While moorlan's herds like guid. Or rules to gie. While terra firma. Fareweel. In love fraternal: May envy wallop in a tether. Diurnal turns. an' sic talents." 'Bout which our herds sae aft hae been Maist like to fight. in faith an' practice. Ye bade me write you what they mean By this "new-light.

In thae auld times. An' muckle din there was about it. braid lallans. it gaed to sticks. An' shortly after she was done They gat a new ane. Some herds. This passed for certain. Than their auld daddies. weel learn'd upo' the beuk. or pair o' shoon. An' backlins-comin to the leuk She grew mair bright. An monie a fallow gat his licks. undisputed. An' ca'd it wrang. Till chiels gat up an' wad confute it. Wi' hearty crunt. Just like a sark. Wad threap auld folk the thing misteuk. they thought the moon. Wore by degrees.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. 103 . Frae words an' aiths to clours an' nicks. It ne'er cam i' their heads to doubt it. For 'twas the auld moon turn'd a neuk An' out of' sight. That beardless laddies Should think they better wer inform'd. Frae less to mair. This was deny'd. by Robert Burns But spak their thoughts in plain. Like you or me. it was affirm'd. Baith loud an' lang. The herds and hissels were alarm'd The rev'rend gray-beards rav'd an' storm'd. till her last roon Gaed past their viewin.

Were hang'd an' brunt. But new-light herds gat sic a cowe. But shortly they will cowe the louns! Some auld-light herds in neebor touns Are mind't. That faith. they'll fetch it wi' them Just i' their pouch. An' stay ae month amang the moons An' see them right. An' auld-light caddies bure sic hands. An' some their new-light fair avow. An' when the auld moon's gaun to lea'e them. Sic bluidy pranks. Guid observation they will gie them. To tak a flight. I've even seen them greetin Wi' girnin spite. by strict commands. Mysel'. This game was play'd in mony lands. Till now. Folk thought them ruin'd stick-an-stowe. The hindmaist shaird. To hear the moon sae sadly lied on By word an' write. Their zealous herds are vex'd an' sweatin. Just quite barefac'd. Till lairds forbad. amaist on ev'ry knowe Ye'll find ane plac'd. Nae doubt the auld-light flocks are bleatin.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. the youngsters took the sands Wi' nimble shanks. in things they ca' balloons. by Robert Burns An' some. 104 . to learn them for their tricks.

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Auld Ayr ran by before me. 105 One Night As I Did Wander Tune—"John Anderson. ." Tho' cruel fate should bid us part. When corn begins to shoot. I sat me down to ponder Upon an auld tree root. . Far as the pole and line. ." One night as I did wander. . Her dear idea round my heart. A cushat crooded o'er me. . I think they'll crouch! Sae. ye observe that a' this clatter Is naething but a "moonshine matter". And bicker'd to the seas. . by Robert Burns An' when the new-light billies see them. my jo. But tho' dull prose-folk Latin splatter In logic tulyie. Tho' Cruel Fate Should Bid Us Part Tune—"The Northern Lass. That echoed through the braes . . I hope we bardies ken some better Than mind sic brulyie. Should tenderly entwine.

. Robin! Our monarch's hindmost year but ane Was five-and-twenty days begun^2. "Wha lives will see the proof.—R. I still would love my Jean. dearer than my deathless soul. rise. Quo' scho. rovin'. I doubt it's hardly worth the while To be sae nice wi' Robin. &c. . Yet. rovin'. Robin was. 'Twas then a blast o' Janwar' win' Blew hansel in on Robin." There was a lad was born in Kyle. 1759.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. .] Tune—"Daintie Davie. Rantin'. rantin'. 106 Song—Rantin'." . And oceans roar between. Rovin' Robin^1 [Footnote 1: Not published by Burns. This waly boy will be nae coof: I think we'll ca' him Robin.—Robin was a rovin' boy. .] The gossip keekit in his loof. But whatna day o' whatna style. rovin'. . Chor. the date of my bardship's vital existence.B. Rantin'. by Robert Burns Tho' mountains. [Footnote 2: January 25. . . Robin was a rovin' boy. and deserts howl.

nor cankert care.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. wi' hungry stare. Nor anxious fear. But aye a heart aboon them a'. they seldom fash'd him." quo'." Robin was. E'er mair come near him. 107 Elegy On The Death Of Robert Ruisseaux^1 Now Robin lies in his last lair. "But sure as three times three mak nine." Robin was. For sune as chance or fate had hush'd 'em Tho' e'er sae short. scho. To tell the truth. Cauld poverty. Except the moment that they crush'd him. He'll be a credit till us a'— We'll a' be proud o' Robin. "He'll hae misfortunes great an' sma'. nor sing nae mair. "Guid faith." Robin was. But twenty fauts ye may hae waur So blessins on thee! Robin. "I doubt you gar The bonie lasses lie aspar. &c. Nae mair shall fear him. &c. He'll gabble rhyme. by Robert Burns Robin was. . I see by ilka score and line. This chap will dearly like our kin'. So leeze me on thee! Robin. &c. &c.

[Footnote 1: Ruisseaux is French for rivulets or "burns.—August. glowrin' Superstition! Wae's me. she's in a sad condition: Fye: bring Black Jock. To see her water. Girns an' looks back. Dread o' blackcoats and rev'rend wigs! Sour Bigotry.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Gane in a gallopin' consumption: Not a' her quacks. there's ground for great suspicion She'll ne'er get better. Enthusiasm's past redemption. And counted was baith wight and stark. 1785 O Gowdie. by Robert Burns Then wi' a rhyme or sang he lash'd 'em. terror o' the whigs. And thought it sport. .] Tho'he was bred to kintra-wark. But tell him.^1 her state physician." a translation of his name. Yet that was never Robin's mark To mak a man. on her last legs. In Kilmarnock Author Of The Gospel Recovered. Alas. Wishing the ten Egyptian plagues May seize you quick. Poor gapin'. wi' a' their gumption. he was learn'd and clark. Ye roos'd him then! 108 Epistle To John Goldie.

could the Lord's ain folk get leave. And end the quarrel. Russell. 109 . my skill's but very sma'. and thresh them sicker! The mair they squeel aye chap the thicker. Weel may you speed! And tho' they sud your sair misca'. B.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Russell's Kirk. Ne'er fash your head. For me.—R.] But. B. between us twa.] [Footnote 2: Mr. For every hole to get a stapple. E'en swinge the dogs. And helps his wit.] [Footnote 3: Dr. Her feeble pulse gies strong presumption. And still 'mang hands a hearty bicker O' something stout. J. A toom tar barrel An' twa red peats wad bring relief. gie her name up in the chapel. It's you an' Taylor^3 are the chief To blame for a' this black mischief. She'll soon surrender. B. But now she fetches at the thrapple. An' fights for breath.—R. by Robert Burns Can ever mend her.—R. But quietlins-wise. Haste. [Footnote 1: The Rev. An' skill in prose I've nane ava'. It gars an owthor's pulse beat quicker. Taylor of Norwich. Auld Orthodoxy lang did grapple. Kilmarnock.^2 Near unto death.

B. The dirk of Defamation: [Footnote 1: "Holy Fair" is a common phrase in the west of Scotland for a sacramental occasion. In glass or horn? I've seen me dazed upon a time. by Robert Burns There's naething like the honest nappy. with poison'd crust. I walked forth to view the corn. And for a mantle large and broad.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. He wrapt him in Religion. And secret hung. I scarce could wink or see a styme. Hypocrisy A-La-Mode Upon a simmer Sunday morn When Nature's face is fair.—R. Dye-varying on the pigeon. As gleg's a whittle.— Ought less is little— Then back I rattle on the rhyme. 110 The Holy Fair^1 A robe of seeming truth and trust Hid crafty Observation. 'Tween morn and morn. Just ae half-mutchkin does me prime.] A mask that like the gorget show'd. saft an' sappy. As them wha like to taste the drappie. Whare'll ye e'er see men sae happy. Or women sonsie. .

An' taks me by the han's. form. Twa had manteeles o' dolefu' black. I think ye seem to ken me. that gaed a wee a-back. by Robert Burns An' snuff the caller air. As soon as e'er she saw me. In feature. 111 . Fu' kind that day.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. an' claes. As light as ony lambie. The twa appear'd like sisters twin. The hares were hirplin down the furrs." Quo' she. An' wi'a curchie low did stoop. The third. hap-stap-an'-lowp. But ane wi' lyart lining. early at the road. The rising sun owre Galston muirs Wi' glorious light was glintin. Was in the fashion shining Fu' gay that day. As lightsomely I glowr'd abroad. Wi' bonnet aff. An' sour as only slaes: The third cam up. Three hizzies. lang an' thin. an' laughin as she spak. To see a scene sae gay. I'm sure I've seen that bonie face But yet I canna name ye. Their visage wither'd. The lav'rocks they were chantin Fu' sweet that day. "Sweet lass. Cam skelpin up the way. quoth I.

skelpin barefit. The nearest friend ye hae. 112 . in ridin graith. Wi' sweet-milk cheese. in braw braid-claith. For roads were clad. An' farls. An' meet you on the holy spot. in mony a whang." "My name is Fun—your cronie dear. We will get famous laughin At them this day. bak'd wi' butter. An' this is Superstitution here. In silks an' scarlets glitter. Here farmers gash. frae side to side. The lasses." Quoth I. by Robert Burns "Ye. yon runkl'd pair. An' soon I made me ready. Wi' mony a weary body In droves that day. Fu' crump that day. thrang. An' that's Hypocrisy. I'll get my Sunday's sark on. we'se hae fine remarkin!" Then I gaed hame at crowdie-time.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Gaed hoddin by their cotters. I'll do't. "Wi' a' my heart. There swankies young. I'm gaun to Mauchline Holy Fair. Faith. for my sake. hae gien the feck Of a' the ten comman's A screed some day. To spend an hour in daffin: Gin ye'll go there. Are springing owre the gutters.

Here. An' we maun draw our tippence. Weel heaped up wi' ha'pence. Wi' heaving breast an' bare neck.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. that he likes best. Thrang winkin on the lasses To chairs that day. Are blinkin at the entry. an' blest! Nae wonder that it pride him! Whase ain dear lass. Ane curses feet that fyl'd his shins. some are thinkin on their sins. Blackguarding frae Kilmarnock. Then in we go to see the show: On ev'ry side they're gath'rin. An' some are busy bleth'rin Right loud that day. A greedy glowr black-bonnet throws. On that a set o' chaps. grace-proud faces. at watch. O happy is that man.^2 an' twa-three whores. An' some upo' their claes. There Racer Jess. An' there a batch o' wabster lads. some chairs an' stools. An' screen our countra gentry. by Robert Burns When by the plate we set our nose. Wi' screwed-up. Here sits a raw o' tittlin jads. Here stands a shed to fend the show'rs. Anither sighs an' prays: On this hand sits a chosen swatch. 113 . For fun this day. Some carrying dails.

by degrees.] [Footnote 3: Rev. his turned-up snout. She was a great pedestrian. His eldritch squeel an' gestures. 1813) was a half-witted daughter of Possie Nansie. 114 . Wi' tidings o' damnation: [Footnote 2: Racer Jess (d. now wild in wrath. O how they fire the heart devout. An's loof upon her bosom. He's stampin. Which. Alexander Moodie of Riccarton.] Should Hornie. To 's ain het hame had sent him Wi' fright that day. Hear how he clears the point o' faith Wi' rattlin and wi' thumpin! Now meekly calm. by Robert Burns Comes clinkin down beside him! Wi' arms repos'd on the chair back. slips round her neck. For a' the real judges rise.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. There's peace an' rest nae langer. The vera sight o' Moodie's face. an' he's jumpin! His lengthen'd chin. He sweetly does compose him. For Moodie^3 speels the holy door. Like cantharidian plaisters On sic a day! But hark! the tent has chang'd its voice. Unkend that day. 'Mang sons o' God present him. as in ancient days. Now a' the congregation o'er Is silent expectation.

Wee Miller^7 neist the guard relieves.] See. Peebles of Newton-upon-Ayr. What signifies his barren shine. George Smith of Galston. an' up the Cowgate^6 Fast. Of moral powers an' reason? His English style. Smith^4 opens out his cauld harangues. An' Orthodoxy raibles. an' gesture fine Are a' clean out o' season. An' aff the godly pour in thrangs. An' aff. Ascends the holy rostrum: [Footnote 4: Rev. On practice and on morals. An' meek an' mim has view'd it. fast that day. In guid time comes an antidote Against sic poison'd nostrum. While Common-sense has taen the road. by Robert Burns They canna sit for anger.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. To gie the jars an' barrels A lift that day. The moral man he does define.^5 frae the water-fit. Tho' in his heart he weel believes. An' thinks it auld wives' fables: 115 . For Peebles. Like Socrates or Antonine.] [Footnote 5: Rev. But ne'er a word o' faith in That's right that day. the word o' God. Or some auld pagan heathen. up he's got. Wm.

Now. Alex. the change-house fills. An' there the pint-stowp clatters. Wi' logic an' wi' scripture. To kittle up our notion. An' steer about the toddy: [Footnote 6: A street so called which faces the tent in Mauchline. By night or day. Here 's cryin out for bakes and gills. it waukens lear. Sit round the table. an' loud an' lang. or drinkin deep. It kindles wit. Altho' his carnal wit an' sense Like hafflins-wise o'ercomes him At times that day. Or ony stronger potion. that in the end Is like to breed a rupture O' wrath that day. The lads an' lasses.] 116 . Wi' yill-caup commentators. Leeze me on drink! it gies us mair Than either school or college. weel content. It pangs us fou o' knowledge: Be't whisky-gill or penny wheep. Miller. While thick an' thrang. by Robert Burns But faith! the birkie wants a manse. B.—R. blythely bent To mind baith saul an' body.] [Footnote 7: Rev. cannilie he hums them. afterward of Kilmaurs. So. butt an' ben.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. It never fails. They raise a din.

an' scorching heat. 'Twas but some neibor snorin Asleep that day. Whase raging flame. in cogs an' caups. 117 . His talk o' Hell. boundless pit. When presently it does appear. While some are cozie i' the neuk. An' think they hear it roarin. 'Twad be owre lang a tale to tell. But now the Lord's ain trumpet touts. whare devils dwell. How mony stories past. They're makin observations. frae women's laps. Divide the joints an' marrow. Till a' the hills are rairin. An' forming assignations To meet some day. an' that ane's leuk. And echoes back return the shouts. Amang the furms an' benches.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. An' how they crouded to the yill. When they were a' dismist. Our vera "sauls does harrow" Wi' fright that day! A vast. How drink gaed round. by Robert Burns On this ane's dress. unbottom'd. An' cheese an' bread. like Highlan' swords. Fill'd fou o' lowin brunstane. Black Russell is na sparin: His piercin words. Wad melt the hardest whun-stane! The half-asleep start up wi' fear.

be mindfu' ance yoursel' How bonie lads ye wanted. Or melvie his braw claithing! O wives. They're a' in famous tune For crack that day. Till lasses strip their shoon: Wi' faith an' hope. about the grace Frae side to side they bother. How mony hearts this day converts 118 . by Robert Burns Was dealt about in lunches An' dawds that day. an' love an' drink.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Syne draws her kebbuck an' her knife. gash guidwife. Fu' lang that day. Some wait the afternoon. An' gies them't like a tether. Waesucks! for him that gets nae lass. In comes a gawsie. Begins to jow an' croon. Till some ane by his bonnet lays. wi' rattlin tow. An' dinna for a kebbuck-heel Let lasses be affronted On sic a day! Now Clinkumbell. At slaps the billies halt a blink. Or lasses that hae naething! Sma' need has he to say a grace. An' sits down by the fire. Some swagger hame the best they dow. The lasses they are shyer: The auld guidmen.

daudin showers hae wat it. Guid health. by Robert Burns O' sinners and o' lasses! Their hearts o' stane. An' took my jocteleg an whatt it. But may the tapmost grain that wags Come to the sack. There's some are fou o' brandy. an' skelpin at it.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Johnie. 119 Third Epistle To J. May ye ne'er want a stoup o' bran'y To clear your head. gin night. I'm bizzie. Like ony clark. when ye're nickin down fu' cannie The staff o' bread. May Boreas never thresh your rigs. Nor kick your rickles aff their legs. hale han's. An' mony jobs that day begin. Sendin the stuff o'er muirs an' haggs Like drivin wrack. an' weather bonie. Lapraik Guid speed and furder to you. are gane As saft as ony flesh is: There's some are fou o' love divine. May end in houghmagandie Some ither day. Sae my auld stumpie pen I gat it Wi' muckle wark. Now. . too. But bitter.

I mean your ingle-side to guard Ae winter night. Your friendship. I winna quat it. Till ye forget ye're auld an' gatty. But let the kirk-folk ring their bells. But mair profane. They are the muses. But if the beast an' branks be spar'd Till kye be gaun without the herd. An' witness take. But browster wives an' whisky stills. Sir. While deil a hair yoursel' ye're better. nameless. Then hand in neive some day we'll knot it. Then muse-inspirin' aqua-vitae Shall make us baith sae blythe and witty. An' when wi' usquabae we've wat it It winna break. Let's sing about our noble sel's: We'll cry nae jads frae heathen hills To help. dateless letter. by Robert Burns It's now twa month that I'm your debtor. An' if ye mak' objections at it. Abusin me for harsh ill-nature On holy men.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. For your braw. An' be as canty As ye were nine years less than thretty— Sweet ane an' twenty! 120 . An' theekit right. And a' the vittel in the yard. or roose us.

Wha. wi' a single wordie. Sept. by Robert Burns But stooks are cowpit wi' the blast. Should meddle wi' a pack sae sturdy.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. An' rouse their holy thunder on it An anathem her. 121 Epistle To The Rev. Or in gulravage rinnin scowr To pass the time. an' ban'. Can easy. I own 'twas rash. Then I maun rin amang the rest. country bardie. John M'math Sept. Rab the Ranter. 1785 While at the stook the shearers cow'r To shun the bitter blaudin' show'r. Yours. Lest they should blame her. An' quat my chanter. ." Which He Had Requested. That I. tir'd wi' mony a sonnet On gown. if they ken me. 13. 1785. To you I dedicate the hour In idle rhyme. My musie. Is grown right eerie now she's done it. a simple. 17. an' douse black bonnet. And now the sinn keeks in the west. an' rather hardy. Sae I subscribe myself' in haste. Inclosing A Copy Of "Holy Willie's Prayer.

An' tell aloud Their jugglin hocus-pocus arts To cheat the crowd.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. The gentleman in word an' deed— An' shall his fame an' honour bleed By worthless. hollow hearts. by Robert Burns Lowse hell upon me. But I gae mad at their grimaces. grace-proud faces. Their three-mile prayers. Than under gospel colours hid be 122 . An' not a muse erect her head To cowe the blellums? O Pope. revenge. Nor am I even the thing I could be. an' half-mile graces. I'm no the thing I should be. I'd rip their rotten. the poor man's friend in need. skellums. But twenty times I rather would be An atheist clean. an' pride disgraces Waur nor their nonsense. God knows. Their raxin conscience. Their sighin. There's Gaw'n. Whase greed. cantin. misca'd waur than a beast. Wha has mair honour in his breast Than mony scores as guid's the priest Wha sae abus'd him: And may a bard no crack his jest What way they've us'd him? See him. had I thy satire's darts To gie the rascals their deserts.

By scoundrels. To stigmatise false friends of thine Can ne'er defame thee. They talk o' mercy. 123 . grace. by Robert Burns Just for a screen. Like some we ken. To join with those Who boldly dare thy cause maintain In spite of foes: In spite o' crowds. With trembling voice I tune my strain. Religion! maid divine! Pardon a muse sae mean as mine. An honest man may like a glass. Tho' blotch't and foul wi' mony a stain. An' far unworthy of thy train. in spite o' mobs. owre right and ruth. An honest man may like a lass. In spite o' dark banditti stabs At worth an' merit. But mean revenge. An' then cry zeal for gospel laws. In spite o' undermining jobs. even wi' holy robes. They take religion in their mouth. Who in her rough imperfect line Thus daurs to name thee.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. For what?—to gie their malice skouth On some puir wight. All hail. an' malice fause He'll still disdain. To ruin straight. An' hunt him down. an' truth.

good Sir. An' winning manner. Ye speak sae fair. I'm three times doubly o'er your debtor. An' if impertinent I've been. my native ground. For my puir. 124 Second Epistle to Davie A Brother Poet Auld Neibour. An' some. as Christians too. renown'd. silly. frien'ly letter. by them your heart's esteem'd. As men. Within thy presbyterial bound A candid liberal band is found Of public teachers. O Ayr! my dear. in that circle you are fam'd. Tho' I maun say't I doubt ye flatter. Sir. by Robert Burns But hellish spirit. sir. in that circle you are nam'd.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. by whom your doctrine's blam'd (Which gies you honour) Even. Pardon this freedom I have ta'en. in ane Whase heart ne'er wrang'd ye. An' manly preachers. rhymin clatter . Sir. Impute it not. But to his utmost would befriend Ought that belang'd ye. For your auld-farrant.

Then. by Robert Burns Some less maun sair. nae scheme o' livin. An' while ought's there. But Davie. Till barins' barins kindly cuddle Your auld grey hairs. I'm tauld the muse ye hae negleckit. lad. hale be your fiddle. Whiles dazed wi' love. ye sud by lickit Until ye fyke.—that I sud ban— They ever think. Sic haun's as you sud ne'er be faikit. Wi' jads or masons. To cheer you thro' the weary widdle O' war'ly cares. but aye owre late. 125 . I think Braw sober lessons. An' whiles. whiles dazed wi' drink. we gae scrievin'. The devil haet. hiltie. Hale be your heart. But just the pouchie put the neive in. nae view. Commen' to me the bardie clan. gif it's sae. skiltie. Of a' the thoughtless sons o' man. Nae cares to gie us joy or grievin. Rivin the words to gar them clink. Nae thought. I'm red ye're glaikit. An. Except it be some idle plan O' rhymin clink. Lang may your elbuck jink diddle. I'm on Parnassus' brink. Be hain't wha like. For me.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns.

poor hizzie! Tho' rough an' raploch be her measure. Her blush is like the morning. And sweetly tempt to taste them. by Robert Burns An' fash nae mair. Tho' e'er sae puir. The rosy dawn. even tho' limpin wi' the spavie Frae door tae door. But for the Muse. Her eyes outshine the radiant beams That gild the passing shower. Her lips. my daintie Davie: The warl' may play you mony a shavie. With early gems adorning. Na. at wark. the springing grass. Leeze me on rhyme! it's aye a treasure. A richer dye has graced them. The Muse. 126 Song—Young Peggy Blooms Tune—"Loch Eroch-side. she'll never leave ye." Young Peggy blooms our boniest lass. And glitter o'er the crystal streams. She's seldom lazy. And cheer each fresh'ning flower. more than the cherries bright.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. . Haud to the Muse. At hame. They charm th' admiring gazer's sight. or leisure. My chief. amaist my only pleasure. a-fiel'.

Ye Pow'rs of Honour. savage Winter. As blooming spring unbends the brow Of surly. And little lambkins wanton wild. Love. The flowers decay'd on Catrine lee. And bless the dear parental name With many a filial blossom. And fretful Envy grins in vain The poison'd tooth to fasten. 127 Song—Farewell To Ballochmyle Tune—"Miss Forbe's farewell to Banff." The Catrine woods were yellow seen. But nature sicken'd on the e'e. In playful bands disporting. Her winning pow'rs to lessen. Thro' faded groves Maria sang.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. From ev'ry ill defend her! Inspire the highly-favour'd youth The destinies intend her: Still fan the sweet connubial flame Responsive in each bosom. by Robert Burns Her smile is as the evening mild. and Truth. . Were Fortune lovely Peggy's foe. Nae lav'rock sang on hillock green. Detraction's eye no aim can gain. When feather'd pairs are courting. Such sweetness would relent her.

Fareweel the bonie banks of Ayr. How sweet unto that breast to cling. And aye the wild-wood ehoes rang. Fareweel. particularly those aerial people. by Robert Burns Hersel' in beauty's bloom the while.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. the raven's wing. O' what a feast her bonie mou'! Her cheeks a mair celestial hue. But here. and other mischief-making beings are abroad on their baneful midnight errands. Fareweel the braes o' Ballochmyle! Low in your wintry beds. the fairies. And round that neck entwine her! Her lips are roses wat wi' dew. or floweret smile. devils. are said on that night to hold a grand . ye flowers. Adown her neck and bosom hing. Again ye'll charm the vocal air. alas! for me nae mair Shall birdie charm. Again ye'll flourish fresh and fair. in with'ring bowers. fareweel! sweet Ballochmyle! 128 Fragment—Her Flowing Locks Her flowing locks. Ye birdies dumb. A crimson still diviner! Halloween^1 [Footnote 1: Is thought to be a night when witches.

—R.—Goldsmith.B. and it may be some entertainment to a philosophic mind. as well as Cassilis Downans.—R.^3 to stray an' rove. romantic. in all ages and nations. is famed. On sprightly coursers prance.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Amang the rocks and streams To sport that night. Beneath the moon's pale beams. up the Cove.. Or for Colean the rout is ta'en. Or owre the lays.—R. to see the remains of it among the more unenlightened in our own. which. in the neighbourhood of the ancient seat of the Earls of Cassilis. Yes! let the rich deride. for being a favorite haunt of fairies.—R. in splendid blaze. called the Cove of Colean. Where Doon rins.B. by Robert Burns anniversary. when fairies light On Cassilis Downans^2 dance. if any such honour the author with a perusal. clear. Where Bruce^4 ance rul'd the martial ranks. An' shook his Carrick spear. so big with prophecy to the peasantry in the west of Scotland. green hills. One native charm. To me more dear. wimplin. be well enough understood.] 129 The following poem will.] [Footnote 3: A noted cavern near Colean house. than all the gloss of art. .B. Upon that night.] Amang the bonie winding banks. the proud disdain. by many readers. The simple pleasure of the lowly train. [Footnote 2: Certain little. in country story. notes are added to give some account of the principal charms and spells of that night. rocky. but for the sake of those who are unacquainted with the manners and traditions of the country where the scene is cast. The passion of prying into futurity makes a striking part of the history of human nature in its rude state. congenial to my heart. There.B.

friendly. hand in hand. the great deliverer of his country. first an' foremost. If any "yird. Then. countra-folks Together did convene. straight or crooked. and the taste of the "custock.B." or plant of kail. that is "tocher. the ancestors of Robert.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. stick to the root. Mair braw than when they're fine. [Footnote 5: The first ceremony of Halloween is pulling each a "stock. Hearts leal. is prophetic of the size and shape of the grand object of all their spells—the husband or wife. were Earls of Carrick. and pull the first they meet with: its being big or little. An' haud their Halloween Fu' blythe that night. and the 130 . Their faces blythe. an' kin': The lads sae trig." that is. Some unco blate.] The lasses feat. thro' the kail. Their stocks^5 maun a' be sought ance. Lastly.—R. [Footnote 4: The famous family of that name. an' pou their stocks. the "runts. an' cleanly neat." are placed somewhere above the head of the door. is indicative of the natural temper and disposition. the stems. or. an' some wi' gabs Gar lasses' hearts gang startin Whiles fast at night. They must go out. an' warm. wi' wooer-babs Weel-knotted on their garten. to give them their ordinary appellation. To burn their nits. fu' sweetly kythe. with eyes shut. by Robert Burns Some merry." or earth. the heart of the stem." or fortune.

To pou their stalks o' corn. and grape an' wale For muckle anes. The vera wee-things. rin. straught or crooked. [Footnote 6: They go to the barnyard. aboon the door.] They steek their een. If the third stalk 131 . B. They roar an' cry a' throu'ther. An' pou't for want o' better shift A runt was like a sow-tail Sae bow't that night. Wi' joctelegs they taste them. an' straught anes. they've plac'd them To lie that night. an' jinks about.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Wi' stocks out owre their shouther: An' gif the custock's sweet or sour.—R. by Robert Burns Christian names of the people whom chance brings into the house are. toddlin. Poor hav'rel Will fell aff the drift. at three different times. a stalk of oats. Whan kiutlin in the fause-house^7 Wi' him that night. yird or nane. But her tap-pickle maist was lost. Syne coziely. An' wandered thro' the bow-kail. Then.^6 But Rab slips out. Behint the muckle thorn: He grippit Nelly hard and fast: Loud skirl'd a' the lasses." the names in question. Wi' cannie care. The lassies staw frae 'mang them a'. and pull each. according to the priority of placing the "runts.

] The auld guid-wife's weel-hoordit nits^8 Are round an' round dividend. the stack-builder. An' jump out owre the chimlie Fu' high that night.] Jean slips in twa. the course and issue of the courtship will be. by Robert Burns wants the "top-pickle.—R. An' mony lads an' lasses' fates Are there that night decided: Some kindle couthie side by side."—R. She says in to hersel': He bleez'd owre her. the party in question will come to the marriage-bed anything but a maid. she wadna tell." that is. an' she owre him.] [Footnote 7: When the corn is in a doubtful state. Wha 'twas. They name the lad and lass to each particular nut.B. makes a large apartment in his stack. an' this is me. by being too green or wet.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. by means of old timber. with an opening in the side which is fairest exposed to the wind: this he calls a "fause-house. wi' tentie e'e.—R..B. But this is Jock. or start from beside one another. the grain at the top of the stalk. An' Jean had e'en a sair heart 132 . [Footnote 8: Burning the nuts is a favorite charm. Some start awa wi' saucy pride. As they wad never mair part: Till fuff! he started up the lum. as they lay them in the fire. and according as they burn quietly together. etc.B. And burn thegither trimly.

An' her ain fit. wi' his bow-kail runt. But Merran sat behint their backs. To be compar'd to Willie: Mall's nit lap out. stownlins. Right fear't that night. She whisper'd Rob to leuk for't: Rob.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. An' slips out—by hersel'. and swore by jing. wi' pridefu' fling. And in the blue-clue^9 throws then. try this spell. Her thoughts on Andrew Bell: She lea'es them gashin at their cracks. She thro' the yard the nearest taks. Poor Willie. took the drunt. must strictly observe these directions: Steal out. it brunt it. 'Twas just the way he wanted To be that night. [Footnote 9: Whoever would. by Robert Burns To see't that night. Till white in ase they're sobbin: Nell's heart was dancin at the view. An' for the kiln she goes then. An' darklins grapit for the bauks. An' Mary. with success. In loving bleeze they sweetly join. While Willie lap. Was brunt wi' primsie Mallie. Fu' cozie in the neuk for't. nae doubt. Nell had the fause-house in her min'. Unseen that night. prie'd her bonie mou'. She pits hersel an' Rob in. all 133 .

Wee Jenny to her graunie says. by naming the Christian and surname of your future spouse.] An' ay she win't. She notic't na an aizle brunt Her braw.^10 I gat frae uncle Johnie:" She fuff't her pipe wi' sic a lunt. [Footnote 10: Take a candle and go alone to a looking-glass.. She did na wait on talkin To spier that night. wind it in a new clue off the old one. will be seen in the glass. In wrath she was sae vap'rin. to be. worset apron Out thro' that night. and.B. Or whether 'twas a bauk-en'. an' ay she swat— I wat she made nae jaukin.e. "Will ye go wi' me.—R. to the kiln. something will hold the thread: demand. "Wha hauds?" i. the face of your conjungal companion.] "Ye little skelpie-limmer's face! 134 . as if peeping over your shoulder. Good Lord! but she was quaukin! But whether 'twas the deil himsel. graunie? I'll eat the apple at the glass. new.—R. throw into the "pot" a clue of blue yarn. eat an apple before it.B. toward the latter end. Or whether it was Andrew Bell.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. by Robert Burns alone. and some traditions say you should comb your hair all the time. who holds? and answer will be returned from the kiln-pot. Till something held within the pat. and darkling.

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. by Robert Burns I daur you try sic sportin. On sic a night. An' stuff was unco green. "Ae hairst afore the Sherra-moor. I saw thee. His sin gat Eppie Sim wi' wean. An' eye a rantin kirn we gat. For mony a ane has gotten a fright. An'he made unco light o't. An' liv'd an' died deleerit. hemp-seed. For him to spae your fortune: Nae doubt but ye may get a sight! Great cause ye hae to fear it. harrowing it with anything you can conveniently draw after you. I saw thee. and him (or her) that is to be my 135 . unperceived. sturdy fallow.^11 I mind it weel. I'm sure I was na past fyfteen: The simmer had been cauld an' wat. As seek the foul thief ony place. He was sae sairly frighted That vera night." [Footnote 11: Steal out. and sow a handful of hemp-seed. Repeat now and then: "Hemp-seed. But mony a day was by himsel'. An' just on Halloween It fell that night. A clever. "Our stibble-rig was Rab M'Graen. That lived in Achmacalla: He gat hemp-seed. I mind't as weel's yestreen— I was a gilpey then.

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. "Come after me and shaw thee." He wistl'd up Lord Lennox' March To keep his courage cherry. That he could saw hemp-seed a peck. An' try't that night. in which case. An' he swoor by his conscience. He was sae fley'd an' eerie: Till presently he hears a squeak. show thyself. 136 . Others omit the harrowing. Syne bad him slip frae' mang the folk.] Then up gat fechtin Jamie Fleck."—R. it simply appears. and you will see the appearance of the person invoked. An' her that is to be my lass Come after me. in the attitude of pulling hemp. and say: "Come after me and harrow thee." Look over your left shoulder. An' then a grane an' gruntle. an' draw thee As fast this night. He marches thro' amang the stacks. The graip he for a harrow taks. An' out a handfu' gied him.B. Sometime when nae ane see'd him. "Hemp-seed I saw thee. Tho' he was something sturtin. he says." that is. by Robert Burns true love. Altho' his hair began to arch. come after me and pou thee. An' haurls at his curpin: And ev'ry now an' then. Some traditions say. For it was a' but nonsense: The auld guidman raught down the pock.

He roar'd a horrid murder-shout. by Robert Burns He by his shouther gae a keek. An' hear the sad narration: He swoor 'twas hilchin Jean M'Craw. Or crouchie Merran Humphie— Till stop! she trotted thro' them a'.B. in at the windy door and out at the other. and the appearance or retinue. She pat but little faith in: [Footnote 12: This charm must likewise be performed unperceived and alone." and go through all the attitudes of letting down corn against the wind.—R.^12 But for to meet the deil her lane. for there is danger that the being about to appear may shut the doors. and the third time an apparition will pass through the barn. Then take that instrument used in winnowing the corn. An' tumbled wi' a wintle Out-owre that night. An' twa red cheekit apples. and open both doors. To winn three wechts o' naething. Repeat it three times. having both the figure in question. marking the employment or station in life. And wha was it but grumphie Asteer that night! Meg fain wad to the barn gaen. taking them off the hinges. 137 .Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. and do you some mischief. You go to the barn. if possible.] She gies the herd a pickle nits. which in our country dialect we call a "wecht. In dreadfu' desperation! An' young an' auld come rinnin out.

In hopes to see Tam Kipples That vera night. amang the shaws. They hecht him some fine braw ane. grousome carlin.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. an' drew a stroke. The last fathom of the last time you will catch in your arms the appearance of your future conjugal yoke-fellow. while for the barn she sets. But och! that night.] A wanton widow Leezie was. by Robert Burns To watch. As cantie as a kittlen. An'owre the threshold ventures. But first on Sawnie gies a ca'. An' she cry'd Lord preserve her! An' ran thro' midden-hole an' a'. [Footnote 13: Take an opportunity of going unnoticed to a "bear-stack. She turns the key wi' cannie thraw. an' by the cairn. It chanc'd the stack he faddom't thrice^13 Was timmer-propt for thrawin: He taks a swirlie auld moss-oak For some black. Till skin in blypes cam haurlin Aff's nieves that night. wi' sair advice. Fu' fast that night. They hoy't out Will. Syne baudly in she enters: A ratton rattl'd up the wa'. An' loot a winze. She gat a fearfu' settlin! She thro' the whins.—R. 138 . An' pray'd wi' zeal and fervour.B." and fathom it three times round.

] Whiles owre a linn the burnie plays. Go to bed in sight of a fire.—R. some time near midnight. or rivulet. Gat up an' ga'e a croon: Poor Leezie's heart maist lap the hool. Was bent that night. Between her an' the moon. 139 . Lie awake. will come and turn the sleeve. But mist a fit. Amang the brachens. Whiles in a wiel it dimpl't. as if to dry the other side of it. [Footnote 14: You go out. and. As thro' the glen it wimpl't. Whiles round a rocky scar it strays.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. or else an outler quey. Wi' a plunge that night. one or more (for this is a social spell). where "three lairds' lands meet." and dip your left shirt sleeve. Wi' bickerin'. The deil. having the exact figure of the grand object in question. Whiles glitter'd to the nightly rays. an' in the pool Out-owre the lugs she plumpit. Whare three lairds' lan's met at a burn. on the brae. Below the spreading hazel Unseen that night. an apparition. dancin' dazzle. Whiles cookit undeneath the braes.^14 To dip her left sark-sleeve in. to a south running spring.B. and hang your wet sleeve before it to dry. Near lav'rock-height she jumpit. by Robert Burns An' owre the hill gaed scrievin.

is always the Halloween Supper. foul water in another. it foretells. on the clean hearth-stane. Syne. Because he gat the toom dish thrice. blindfold a person and lead him to the hearth where the dishes are ranged.^16 wi' fragrant lunt. [Footnote 15: Take three dishes. with equal certainty. and every time the arrangement of the dishes is altered. if in the empty dish. and leave the third empty. if by chance in the clean water. an' friendly cracks. wha wedlock's joys Sin' Mar's-year did desire. he (or she) dips the left hand. no marriage at all. if in the foul. an' funnie jokes— Their sports were cheap an' cheery: Till butter'd sowens. It is repeated three times. a widow. [Footnote 16: Sowens.—R.B. And unco tales.B. The luggies^15 three are ranged. An' ev'ry time great care is ta'en To see them duly changed: Auld uncle John.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. 140 . wi' a social glass o' strunt.] Set a' their gabs a-steerin. put clean water in one. with butter instead of milk to them.—R. He heav'd them on the fire In wrath that night. They parted aff careerin Fu' blythe that night.] Wi' merry sangs. by Robert Burns In order. I wat they did na weary. the future (husband or) wife will come to the bar of matrimony a maid.

An' weary winter comin fast. O' foggage green! An' bleak December's winds ensuin. sleekit. Has broken nature's social union. in ruin! It's silly wa's the win's are strewin! An' naething. by Robert Burns 141 To A Mouse. thou maun live! A daimen icker in a thrave 'S a sma' request. to big a new ane. whiles. Wi' murd'ring pattle! I'm truly sorry man's dominion. November. O. I'll get a blessin wi' the lave. What then? poor beastie. tim'rous beastie. 1785 Wee. Wi' bickering brattle! I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee. but thou may thieve. cow'rin. what a panic's in thy breastie! Thou need na start awa sae hasty. Thou thought to dwell— . On Turning Her Up In Her Nest With The Plough. An' never miss't! Thy wee bit housie. thy poor. beneath the blast. An' justifies that ill opinion. An' fellow-mortal! I doubt na.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. earth-born companion. Baith snell an' keen! Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste. too. Which makes thee startle At me. now. An' cozie here.

To some other warl' Maun follow the carl. compar'd wi' me The present only toucheth thee: But. Innkeeper Here lies Johnie Pigeon. Mousie. On prospects drear! An' forward. The best-laid schemes o' mice an 'men Gang aft agley. But house or hald. I guess an' fear! 142 Epitaph On John Dove. What was his religion? Whae'er desires to ken. by Robert Burns Till crash! the cruel coulter past Out thro' thy cell. That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble. Och! I backward cast my e'e. An' cranreuch cauld! But. thou art no thy lane. For here Johnie Pigeon had nane! . To thole the winter's sleety dribble. For promis'd joy! Still thou art blest.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. An'lea'e us nought but grief an' pain. tho' I canna see. In proving foresight may be vain. for a' thy trouble. Has cost thee mony a weary nibble! Now thou's turn'd out.

Ye Mauchline bairns. An' now Thou kens our waefu' case. Yet. like ony wabster's shuttle.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. by Robert Burns Maun follow the carl. Your wives they ne'er had miss'd ye. . because I'm little! For though I am an elf o' mettle. An' can. I'm unco queer. And port was celestial glory. For here Johnie Pigeon had nane! Strong ale was ablution.— Perhaps he was your father! Adam Armour's Prayer Gude pity me. scarce as lang's a gude kail-whittle. A dram was memento mori. O tread ye lightly on his grass. For had ye staid hale weeks awa. Mauchline husbands a'. He aften did assist ye. Small beer persecution. But a full-flowing bowl Was the saving his soul. as on ye press To school in bands thegither. Jink there or here. 143 Epitaph For James Smith Lament him.

An' tips auld drucken Nanse the wink. For whilk we daurna show our face Within the clachan. An' hurt her spleuchan. An' fill her up wi' brimstone drink. That shamefu' death! Auld grim black-bearded Geordie's sel'— O shake him owre the mouth o' hell! There let him hing. An' gie their hides a noble curry Wi' oil of aik! As for the jurr-puir worthless body! 144 . But Gude preserve us frae the gallows. May Sautan gie her doup a clink Within his yett. Though Jock an' hav'rel Jean are merry— Some devil seize them in a hurry. Then heave him in. by Robert Burns For Geordie's jurr we're in disgrace. When Death comes in wi' glimmerin blink. An' waft them in th' infernal wherry Straught through the lake. An' sodgers baith. Red-reekin het. An' now we're dern'd in dens and hollows. And if he offers to rebel. Because we stang'd her through the place. as was William Wallace.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Wi' constables-thae blackguard fallows. And hunted. an' roar. an' yell Wi' hideous din.

And infant frosts begin to bite. Wi' jumping an' thumping. weel brac'd wi' mealy bags. neist the fire. Wi' stanged hips. by Robert Burns She's got mischief enough already. If she wh-e mair! 145 The Jolly Beggars: A Cantata^1 [Footnote 1: Not published by Burns. Ane sat. Ae night at e'en a merry core O' randie. In Poosie-Nansie's held the splore.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. But. Bedim cauld Boreas' blast. in auld red rags. and buttocks bluidy She's suffer'd sair.] Recitativo When lyart leaves bestrow the yird. They ranted an' they sang. may she wintle in a woody. In hoary cranreuch drest. Wi' usquebae an' blankets warm . The vera girdle rang. To drink their orra duddies. When hailstanes drive wi' bitter skyte. Or wavering like the bauckie-bird. His doxy lay within his arm. And knapsack a' in order. Wi' quaffing an' laughing. gangrel bodies. First.

Then staggering an' swaggering He roar'd this ditty up— Air Tune—"Soldier's Joy. Lal de daudle. And show my cuts and scars wherever I come. And now tho' I must beg. What tho' with hoary locks. and my callet." I am a son of Mars who have been in many wars. My 'prenticeship I past where my leader breath'd his last. 146 . An' aye he gies the tozie drab The tither skelpin' kiss. &c. my bottle. by Robert Burns She blinkit on her sodger. with a wooden arm and leg. When the bloody die was cast on the heights of Abram: and I served out my trade when the gallant game was play'd. While she held up her greedy gab. When welcoming the French at the sound of the drum. did crack still. And many a tatter'd rag hanging over my bum. I lastly was with Curtis among the floating batt'ries. Just like a cadger's whip. I'm as happy with my wallet. Ilk smack still. This here was for a wench. I must stand the winter shocks. Just like an aumous dish. and that other in a trench. As when I used in scarlet to follow a drum. And the Morro low was laid at the sound of the drum. Beneath the woods and rocks oftentimes for a home.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. And there I left for witness an arm and a limb. I'd clatter on my stumps at the sound of a drum. Yet let my country need me. with Elliot to head me.

&c. An' seek the benmost bore: A fairy fiddler frae the neuk. The regiment at large for a husband I got. And still my delight is in proper young men. 147 . Some one of a troop of dragoons was my daddie. 'Twas then I proved false to my sodger laddie. and I risked the body. Air Tune—"Sodger Laddie. From the gilded spontoon to the fife I was ready. and his cheek was so ruddy. and the t'other bottle tell. tho' I cannot tell when. The first of my loves was a swaggering blade. at the sound of a drum. I asked no more but a sodger laddie. But the godly old chaplain left him in the lurch. Aboon the chorus roar.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. An' laid the loud uproar." I once was a maid. He skirl'd out. I could meet a troop of hell. by Robert Burns When the t'other bag I sell. and the kebars sheuk. Transported I was with my sodger laddie. encore! But up arose the martial chuck. While frighted rattons backward leuk. Sing. Recitativo He ended. No wonder I'm fond of a sodger laddie. The sword I forsook for the sake of the church: He ventur'd the soul. Full soon I grew sick of my sanctified sot. His leg was so tight. To rattle the thundering drum was his trade. lal de lal.

Syne tun'd his pipes wi' grave grimace. Sat guzzling wi' a tinkler-hizzie. my hero. my sodger laddie. And still I can join in a cup and a song. But what will ye hae of a fool? For drink I would venture my neck. Till I met old boy in a Cunningham fair. Sir Knave is a fool in a session." Sir Wisdom's a fool when he's fou. they flutter'd so gaudy. I fear I my talent misteuk. Then turn'd an' laid a smack on Grizzie. Between themselves they were sae busy: At length. They mind't na wha the chorus teuk. His rags regimental. Here's to thee. wi' drink an' courting dizzy. But whilst with both hands I can hold the glass steady. My grannie she bought me a beuk. He stoiter'd up an' made a face. But what could ye other expect 148 . And now I have liv'd—I know not how long. A hizzie's the half of my craft. An' I held awa to the school.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Recitativo Poor Merry-Andrew. by Robert Burns But the peace it reduc'd me to beg in despair. Air Tune—"Auld Sir Symon. He's there but a 'prentice I trow. But I am a fool by profession. in the neuk. My heart it rejoic'd at a sodger laddie.

an ye were dead. But weary fa' the waefu' woodie! Wi' sighs an' sobs she thus began To wail her braw John Highlandman. An' had in mony a well been douked. i' the Court A tumbler ca'd the Premier. And now my conclusion I'll tell. For faith I'm confoundedly dry. The chiel that's a fool for himsel'. For mony a pursie she had hooked. Let naebody name wi' a jeer. I ance was abus'd i' the kirk. Poor Andrew that tumbles for sport. by Robert Burns Of ane that's avowedly daft? I ance was tied up like a stirk. There's even. Air Tune—"O." A Highland lad my love was born. 149 . Guid Lord! he's far dafter than I. Wha kent fu' weel to cleek the sterlin.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. He rails at our mountebank squad. Recitativo Then niest outspak a raucle carlin.— It's rivalship just i' the job. For towsing a lass i' my daffin. I'm tauld. For civilly swearing and quaffin. Her love had been a Highland laddie. Guidman. The Lalland laws he held in scorn. Observ'd ye yon reverend lad Mak faces to tickle the mob.

An' guid claymore down by his side. &c. Embracing my John Highlandman. Sing hey. &c. Chorus Sing hey my braw John Highlandman! Sing ho my braw John Highlandman! There's not a lad in a' the lan' Was match for my John Highlandman. With his philibeg an' tartan plaid. 150 . braw John Highlandman. And bound him in a dungeon fast: My curse upon them every one.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. But. Adown my cheeks the pearls ran. But ere the bud was on the tree. by Robert Burns But he still was faithfu' to his clan. My gallant. The ladies' hearts he did trepan. An' liv'd like lords an' ladies gay. Sing hey. They've hang'd my braw John Highlandman! Sing hey.— My gallant. och! they catch'd him at the last. I must mourn The pleasures that will ne'er return: The comfort but a hearty can. &c. For a Lalland face he feared none. My gallant. braw John Highlandman. They banish'd him beyond the sea. We ranged a' from Tweed to Spey. braw John Highlandman. Sing hey. And now a widow. &c.

three. At kirns an' weddins we'se be there. Air Tune—"Whistle owre the lave o't. An' then your every care an' fear May whistle owre the lave o't. He croon'd his gamut. Her strappin limb and gausy middle (He reach'd nae higher) Had hol'd his heartie like a riddle. Wi' hand on hainch. Chorus I am a fiddler to my trade. one. An' O sae nicely's we will fare! We'll bowse about till Daddie Care Sing whistle owre the lave o't. The wee Apoll Set off wi' allegretto glee His giga solo. Was whistle owre the lave o't.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Then in an arioso key. and upward e'e. Sing hey. Recitativo A pigmy scraper wi' his fiddle. An' go wi' me an' be my dear. &c. An' a' the tunes that e'er I played. two. An' blawn't on fire. The sweetest still to wife or maid. Wha us'd at trystes an' fairs to driddle. by Robert Burns When I think on John Highlandman. 151 ." Let me ryke up to dight that tear.

An' draws a roosty rapier— He swoor. May whistle owre the lave o't. an' a' sic harms. &c. &c. by a' was swearing worth." 152 . Sae merrily's the banes we'll pyke. Hunger. Wi' ghastly e'e poor tweedle-dee Upon his hunkers bended. To speet him like a pliver. I am. An' at our leisure. I am. But tho' his little heart did grieve When round the tinkler prest her. An' so the quarrel ended. Recitativo Her charms had struck a sturdy caird. But bless me wi' your heav'n o' charms.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. An' while I kittle hair on thairms. cauld. When thus the caird address'd her: Air Tune—"Clout the Cauldron. by Robert Burns I am. An' pray'd for grace wi' ruefu' face. As weel as poor gut-scraper. He feign'd to snirtle in his sleeve. He taks the fiddler by the beard. &c. Unless he would from that time forth Relinquish her for ever. We'll whistle owre the lave o't. when ye like. An' sun oursel's about the dyke.

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. that wither'd imp. Partly wi' love o'ercome sae sair. I work in brass. &c. [Footnote 1: A peculiar sort of whisky so called. May I ne'er weet my craigie. Wish'd unison between the pair. An' take a share with those that bear The budget and the apron! And by that stowp! my faith an' houp.B. I've taen the gold. And by that dear Kilbaigie. with an air That show'd a man o' spunk. But vain they search'd when off I march'd To go an' clout the cauldron. an' been enrolled In many a noble squadron. And by that stowp. A tinkler is my station: I've travell'd round all Christian ground In this my occupation. An' made the bottle clunk To their health that night.] Recitativo The caird prevail'd—th' unblushing fair In his embraces sunk. Despise that shrimp. by Robert Burns My bonie lass. &c. or meet wi' scant. 153 . An' partly she was drunk: Sir Violino. With a' his noise an' cap'rin. a great favorite with Poosie Nansie's clubs.—R.^1 If e'er ye want. I've taen the gold.

An' thus the muse suggested His sang that night. an' lap like daft. Air Tune—"For a' that. But Homer-like. I've wife eneugh for a' that. His heart. That play'd a dame a shavie— The fiddler rak'd her. I've twa behin'. O' boot that night. Nor want but—when he thirsted. [Footnote 2: Homer is allowed to be the 154 . He had no wish but—to be glad. Her lord. by Robert Burns But hurchin Cupid shot a shaft. Behint the chicken cavie." I am a Bard of no regard. an' a' that. she ever miss'd it. a wight of Homer's craft. the glowrin byke. Frae town to town I draw that. Chorus For a' that. He hirpl'd up. An' twice as muckle's a' that.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. An' shor'd them Dainty Davie. I've lost but ane. an' a' that. Wi' gentle folks an' a' that.^2 Tho' limpin wi' the spavie. He was a care-defying blade As ever Bacchus listed! Tho' Fortune sair upon him laid. He hated nought but—to be sad. fore and aft.

They've taen me in. &c. Re-echo'd from each mouth! They toom'd their pocks. For a' that. For a' that. Their humble slave an' a' that. But there it streams an' richly reams. an' a' that. by Robert Burns oldest ballad-singer on record. Great love Idbear to a' the fair. My Helicon I ca' that. An' twice as muckle's a' that. In raptures sweet. 155 . Chorus For a' that. But lordly will. an' a' that. and here's—"The Sex!" I like the jads for a' that.—R. Castalia's burn. For a' that. They're welcome till't for a' that.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. But for how lang the flie may stang.B. they pawn'd their duds. this hour we meet. My dearest bluid. Recitativo So sang the bard—and Nansie's wa's Shook with a thunder of applause. Let inclination law that.] I never drank the Muses' stank. an' a' that. But clear your decks. &c. to do them guid. I hold it still A mortal sin to thraw that. Wi' mutual love an' a' that. Their tricks an' craft hae put me daft. &c.

And in raptures let us sing— Chorus A fig for those by law protected! Liberty's a glorious feast! Courts for cowards were erected." See the smoking bowl before us. what is treasure. What is reputation's care? If we lead a life of pleasure. He rising. rejoicing. by Robert Burns They scarcely left to co'er their fuds. And at night in barn or stable. fill your Glasses. 156 . 'Tis no matter how or where! A fig for. What is title. Churches built to please the priest. an' found them Impatient for the chorus. A ballad o' the best. With the ready trick and fable. Between his twa Deborahs. To quench their lowin drouth: Then owre again. Hug our doxies on the hay. Looks round him. Mark our jovial ragged ring! Round and round take up the chorus. &c.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Round we wander all the day. the jovial thrang The poet did request To lowse his pack an' wale a sang. Air Tune—"Jolly Mortals.

and turn." Tho' women's minds. Churches built to please the priest. The noblest breast adores them maist— A consequence I draw that. A fig for. Let them cant about decorum. Amen! Chorus A fig for those by law protected! Liberty's a glorious feast! Courts for cowards were erected. an' a' that. &c. Here's our ragged brats and callets. May shift. Chorus . We regard not how it goes. 157 Song—For A' That^1 Tune—"For a' that. Here's to budgets. bags and wallets! Here's to all the wandering train. &c. &c. Who have character to lose. One and all cry out.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. by Robert Burns A fig for. Life is al a variorum. like winter winds. Does the train-attended carriage Thro' the country lighter rove? Does the sober bed of marriage Witness brighter scenes of love? A fig for.

an' a' that. an' a' that. In rapture sweet this hour we meet. Great love I bear to a' the fair. I hold it still A mortal sin to thraw that. For a' that. Wi' mutual love an' a' that. an' a' that. by Robert Burns For a' that. But clear your decks.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. &c. Let inclination law that. 158 ."] But for how lang the flie may stang. And wha a crime dare ca' that? For a' that. &c. They've taen me in. I like her best. [Footnote 1: A later version of "I am a bard of no regard" in "The Jolly Beggars. and sense. But lordly will. A bonie lass. For a' that. an' a' that. For a' that. &c. Their tricks an' craft hae put me daft. Their humble slave. &c. But there is ane aboon the lave. And twice as meikle's a' that. Has wit. The bonie lass that I loe best She'll be my ain for a' that. and here's—"The Sex!" I like the jads for a' that.

My lov'd. An' a' the lang night as happy's a king. O a' the lang day I ca' at my hammer. Aiken." O Merry hae I been teethin' a heckle.. . much respected friend! No mercenary bard his homage pays. my Katie. Bitter in idol I lickit my winnins O' marrying Bess. to gie her a slave: Blest be the hour she cool'd in her linnens. The short and simple annals of the Poor. An' kissin' my Katie when a' was done. And blythe be the bird that sings on her grave! Come to my arms. An' a' the lang day I whistle and sing. my Katie. An' merry hae I been shapin' a spoon. and destiny obscure.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. O come to my arms and kiss me again! Drucken or sober. Esq. O a' the lang night I cuddle my kimmer. by Robert Burns 159 Song—Merry Hae I Been Teethin A Heckle Tune—"The bob O' Dumblane. of Ayr. Gray. Their homely joys. The Cotter's Saturday Night Inscribed to R. Katie! An' blest be the day I did it again. here's to thee. with a disdainful smile. Let not Ambition mock their useful toil. my honour'd. O merry hae I been cloutin' a kettle. Nor Grandeur hear.

And makes him quite forget his labour and his toil. Ah! tho' his worth unknown. The native feelings strong. The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh. Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend. The lowly train in life's sequester'd scene. the elder bairns come drapping in. o'er the moor. their Jenny. Collects his spades. some herd. His clean hearth-stane. Does a' his weary kiaugh and care beguile. far happier there I ween! November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh. wi' flichterin noise and glee. Some ca' the pleugh. My dearest meed. I scorn each selfish end. toddlin. And weary. in simple Scottish lays. by Robert Burns With honest pride. 160 . The lisping infant. stacher through To meet their dead. Th' expectant wee-things. What Aiken in a cottage would have been. Belyve. At length his lonely cot appears in view. blinkin bonilie. prattling on his knee.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. woman-grown. The short'ning winter-day is near a close. his course does hameward bend. His wee bit ingle. some tentie rin A cannie errand to a neibor town: Their eldest hope. his thrifty wifie's smile. Beneath the shelter of an aged tree. and his hoes. the guileless ways. his mattocks. a friend's esteem and praise: To you I sing. At service out. amang the farmers roun'.— This night his weekly moil is at an end. The black'ning trains o' craws to their repose: The toil-worn Cotter frae his labour goes.

by Robert Burns In youthfu' bloom-love sparkling in her e'e— Comes hame. Anticipation forward points the view. duly. The mother. Lest in temptation's path ye gang astray. Jenny." But hark! a rap comes gently to the door. unnotic'd fleet: Each tells the uncos that he sees or hears. enquires his name. With joy unfeign'd. The younkers a' are warned to obey. Their master's and their mistress' command. brothers and sisters meet. and convoy her hame. The parents. tho' out o' sight.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new. wha kens the meaning o' the same. morn and night. To help her parents dear. The father mixes a' wi' admonition due. and flush her cheek. Or deposite her sair-won penny-fee. "And O! be sure to fear the Lord alway. wi' her needle and her shears. With heart-struck anxious care. to jauk or play. eye their hopeful years. perhaps to shew a braw new gown. And mind their labours wi' an eydent hand. And each for other's weelfare kindly speirs: The social hours. And ne'er. While Jenny hafflins is afraid to speak. partial. Implore His counsel and assisting might: They never sought in vain that sought the Lord aright. And mind your duty. if they in hardship be. Tells how a neibor lad came o'er the moor. swift-wing'd. 161 . To do some errands. The wily mother sees the conscious flame Sparkle in Jenny's e'e.

The father cracks of horses. and their distraction wild? But now the supper crowns their simple board. loving. A strappin youth. But blate an' laithfu'. scarce can weel behave. sly. mortal round. Blythe Jenny sees the visit's no ill ta'en. and kye. Wi' kindly welcome. chief of Scotia's food. by Robert Burns Weel-pleased the mother hears. The mother. modest pair In other'sarms. Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale." Is there. can spy What makes the youth sae bashfu' and sae grave. that bears a heart. ensnaring art. Weel-pleas'd to think her bairn's respected like the lave. he takes the mother's eye. virtue.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. O happy love! where love like this is found: O heart-felt raptures! bliss beyond compare! I've paced much this weary. with studied.— "If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare— One cordial in this melancholy vale. Points to the parents fondling o'er their child? Then paints the ruin'd maid. A wretch! a villain! lost to love and truth! That can. And sage experience bids me this declare. worthless rake. in human form. The youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi' joy. Betray sweet Jenny's unsuspecting youth? Curse on his perjur'd arts! dissembling smooth! Are honour. it's nae wild. conscience. 'Tis when a youthful. breathe out the tender tale. 162 . pleughs. all exil'd? Is there no pity. Jenny brings him ben. no relenting ruth. The halesome parritch. wi' a woman's wiles.

Nae unison hae they with our Creator's praise. They tune their hearts. Or noble Elgin beets the heaven-ward flame. fell. worthy of the name. To grace the lad. 'yont the hallan snugly chows her cood: The dame brings forth. The cheerfu' supper done. Italian trills are tame. will tell How t'was a towmond auld. His lyart haffets wearing thin and bare. They. round the ingle. Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide. and aft he ca's it guid: The frugal wifie. Or Moses bade eternal warfare wage With Amalek's ungracious progeny. her weel-hain'd kebbuck.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. The sire turns o'er. with patriarchal grace. How Abram was the friend of God on high. Or how the royal bard did groaning lie 163 . garrulous. wi' serious face. by Robert Burns The sowp their only hawkie does afford. That. Perhaps Dundee's wild-warbling measures rise. The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays: Compar'd with these. The big ha'bible. He wales a portion with judicious care. The priest-like father reads the sacred page. The tickl'd ears no heart-felt raptures raise. Or plaintive Martyrs. by far the noblest aim. in complimental mood. They chant their artless notes in simple guise. And aft he's prest. And "Let us worship God!" he says with solemn air. form a circle wide. sin' lint was i' the bell. ance his father's pride: His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside.

the pageant will desert. No more to sigh. The pompous strain. except the heart! The Power. In such society. How He. While circling Time moves round in an eternal sphere Compar'd with this. by Robert Burns Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire.] Devotion's ev'ry grace. or shed the bitter tear. But haply. in some cottage far apart."^1 That thus they all shall meet in future days. seraphic fire. In all the pomp of method. How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed. The precepts sage they wrote to many a land: How he. And heard great Bab'lon's doom pronounc'd by Heaven's command. yet still more dear.B. Or Job's pathetic plaint. Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme. and the husband prays: Hope "springs exulting on triumphant wing. Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre. The saint. 164 . There.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. who lone in Patmos banished. how poor Religion's pride. the sacerdotal stole. kneeling down to Heaven's Eternal King."—R. Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand. and wailing cry. Together hymning their Creator's praise. Then. Had not on earth whereon to lay His head: How His first followers and servants sped. incens'd. and of art. Or rapt Isaiah's wild. the father. who bore in Heaven the second name. When men display to congregations wide [Footnote 1: Pope's "Windsor Forest. ever bask in uncreated rays.

The cottage leaves the palace far behind. in their hearts with grace divine preside. Disguising oft the wretch of human kind. the language of the soul. Studied in arts of hell. And in His Book of Life the inmates poor enroll. Then homeward all take off their sev'ral way. That he who stills the raven's clam'rous nest. rever'd abroad: Princes and lords are but the breath of kings. O Thou! who pour'd the patriotic tide. Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil Be blest with health. and sweet content! And O! may Heaven their simple lives prevent From luxury's contagion. What is a lordling's pomp? a cumbrous load. That makes her lov'd at home. "An honest man's the noblest work of God. But chiefly. And decks the lily fair in flow'ry pride. well-pleas'd. 165 . For them and for their little ones provide. in the way His wisdom sees the best. by Robert Burns May hear. Would. in fair virtue's heavenly road. And proffer up to Heaven the warm request. The youngling cottagers retire to rest: The parent-pair their secret homage pay. old Scotia's grandeur springs. A virtuous populace may rise the while. And stand a wall of fire around their much-lov'd isle. and peace.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. my native soil! For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent." And certes. From scenes like these. in wickedness refin'd! O Scotia! my dear. weak and vile! Then howe'er crowns and coronets be rent.

To skelp an' scaud poor dogs like me. But still the patriot. and the patriot-bard In bright succession raise. Nick. An' let poor damned bodies be. His friend. Wha in yon cavern grim an' sootie. never Scotia's realm desert. To scaud poor wretches! Hear me. her ornament and guard! 166 Address To The Deil O Prince! O chief of many throned Pow'rs That led th' embattl'd Seraphim to war— Milton. and reward!) O never. Who dar'd to nobly stem tyrannic pride. An' tho' yon lowin' heuch's thy hame. Satan. O Thou! whatever title suit thee— Auld Hornie. Or nobly die. for a wee.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. the second glorious part: (The patriot's God peculiarly thou art. guardian. inspirer. auld Hangie. Ev'n to a deil. or Clootie. Far ken'd an' noted is thy name. . Spairges about the brunstane cootie. I'm sure sma' pleasure it can gie. by Robert Burns That stream'd thro' Wallace's undaunted heart. Clos'd under hatches. An' hear us squeel! Great is thy pow'r an' great thy fame.

in the human bosom pryin. Wi' wavin' sough. a' holes and corners tryin. Wi' you. by Robert Burns Thou travels far. ranging like a roarin lion. When wi' an eldritch.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. stood in sight. Whiles. windy. like a rash-buss." 167 . Ye. Ae dreary. When twilight did my graunie summon. Ayont the lough. douse. For prey. nor scaur. The stars shot down wi' sklentin light. quaick. Wi' eldritch croon. Whiles. mysel' I gat a fright. Tirlin the kirks. An' faith! thou's neither lag nor lame. I've heard my rev'rend graunie say. Unseen thou lurks. stoor "quaick. Nor blate. Whiles. Ye fright the nightly wand'rer's way. The cudgel in my nieve did shake. thro' the boortrees comin. Or. Each brist'ld hair stood like a stake. To say her pray'rs. winter night. honest woman! Aft'yont the dyke she's heard you bummin. In lanely glens ye like to stray. Wi' heavy groan. Or where auld ruin'd castles grey Nod to the moon. rustlin. Wi' eerie drone. on the strong-wind'd tempest flyin.

Thence mystic knots mak great abuse On young guidmen. Awa ye squatter'd like a drake. By cantrip wit. by Robert Burns Amang the springs. an' wither'd hags. mischievous monkies 168 . When the best wark-lume i' the house. Thence countra wives. Then water-kelpies haunt the foord. fond. twal-pint hawkie's gane As yell's the bill. Owre howkit dead. Is instant made no worth a louse. And in kirk-yards renew their leagues. keen an' crouse. Tell how wi' you. An' float the jinglin' icy boord. curst. on ragweed nags. An' dawtit. When thowes dissolve the snawy hoord. Let warlocks grim. And 'nighted trav'llers are allur'd To their destruction. Just at the bit. On whistlin' wings. By your direction. And aft your moss-traversin Spunkies Decoy the wight that late an' drunk is: The bleezin. Wi' wicked speed. For oh! the yellow treasure's ta'en By witchin' skill. wi' toil and pain. May plunge an' plunge the kirn in vain. They skim the muirs an' dizzy crags.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns.

Till in some miry slough he sunk is. Ne'er mair to rise. The raptur'd hour. by Robert Burns Delude his eyes. And Eve was like my bonie Jean. ye auld. strange to tell! The youngest brither ye wad whip Aff straught to hell. Sweet on the fragrant flow'ry swaird. My dearest part.^1 Then you. young handsome quean. In shady bower. Ye did present your smoutie phiz 'Mang better folk. D'ye mind that day when in a bizz Wi' reekit duds. [Footnote 1: The verse originally ran: "Lang syne.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. An' sklented on the man of Uzz 169 . an' reestit gizz. When masons' mystic word an' grip In storms an' tempests raise you up. O' guileless heart. snick-drawing dog! Ye cam to Paradise incog. When youthfu' lovers first were pair'd. A dancin. Lang syne in Eden's bonie yard. An' all the soul of love they shar'd. Or. in Eden's happy scene When strappin Adam's days were green. sweet. (Black be your fa'!) An' gied the infant warld a shog."] An' play'd on man a cursed brogue. 'Maist rui'd a'. Some cock or cat your rage maun stop.

In prose or rhyme. Your wily snares an' fechtin fierce.—R. by Robert Burns Your spitefu' joke? An' how ye gat him i' your thrall. But faith! he'll turn a corner jinkin. An' brak him out o' house an hal'. auld Nickie-ben! O wad ye tak a thought an' men'! Ye aiblins might—I dinna ken— Stil hae a stake: I'm wae to think up' yon den. Down to this time. But fare-you-weel. While scabs and botches did him gall. Book vi.] 170 . An' now. An' lows'd his ill-tongu'd wicked scaul'. Wi' bitter claw. Ev'n for your sake! [Footnote 2: Vide Milton. B. An' cheat you yet. Wad ding a Lallan tounge. Sin' that day Michael^2 did you pierce. auld Cloots. Was warst ava? But a' your doings to rehearse. A certain bardie's rantin. Some luckless hour will send him linkin To your black pit. drinkin.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. or Erse. I ken ye're thinkin.

In glass or jug. An' aits set up their awnie horn. 6. 7. (Solomon's Proverbs. richly brown.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. An' minds his griefs no more. Till he forgets his loves or debts. an' wines. That's sinking in despair. ream owre the brink. xxxi. till I lisp an' wink. John Barleycorn. In glorious faem. An' liquor guid to fire his bluid.) Let other poets raise a fracas 'Bout vines. An' grate our lug: I sing the juice Scotch bear can mak us. an' drucken Bacchus. Wi' bumpers flowing o'er. . That's prest wi' grief and care: There let him bouse. Inspire me. An' pease and beans. Or. my muse! guid auld Scotch drink! Whether thro' wimplin worms thou jink. at e'en or morn. Perfume the plain: Leeze me on thee. Thou king o' grain! On thee aft Scotland chows her cood. To sing thy name! Let husky wheat the haughs adorn. O thou. by Robert Burns 171 Scotch Drink Gie him strong drink until he wink. An' crabbit names an'stories wrack us. an' deep carouse.

what were our fairs and rants? Ev'n godly meetings o' the saunts. Thou strings the nerves o' Labour sair. But when thou pours thy strong heart's blood. an' keeps us leevin. Wi' rattlin glee. But. Thou clears the head o'doited Lear. By thee inspired. by Robert Burns In souple scones. or his bread. Wi' gentles thou erects thy head. The wheels o' life gae down-hill. When heavy-dragg'd wi' pine an' grievin. There thou shines chief. 172 . Yet. At's weary toil. His weep drap parritch. That merry night we get the corn in. Tho' life's a gift no worth receivin. the wale o'food! Or tumblin in the boiling flood Wi' kail an' beef. Are doubly fir'd. But thee. Though even brightens dark Despair Wi' gloomy smile. scrievin. The poor man's wine. Thou kitchens fine. humbly kind in time o' need. oil'd by thee. Food fills the wame.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Aft. Thou art the life o' public haunts. When gaping they besiege the tents. Thou cheers ahe heart o' drooping Care. clad in massy siller weed.

Brings hard owrehip. When skirling weanies see the light. Wae worth the name! Nae howdie gets a social night. for airn or steel. wi' sturdy wheel. How easy can the barley brie Cement the quarrel! It's aye the cheapest lawyer's fee. 173 . An' just as wud as wud can be. Nae mercy then. How fumblin' cuiffs their dearies slight. To taste the barrel. Wi' dinsome clamour.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. then. ploughman chiel. An' just a wee drap sp'ritual burn in. O rare! to see thee fizz an freath I' th' luggit caup! Then Burnewin comes on like death At every chap. The strong forehammer. Though maks the gossips clatter bright. banie. thou reams the horn in! Or reekin on a New-year mornin In cog or bicker. by Robert Burns O sweetly. Till block an' studdie ring an reel. When neibors anger at a plea. Alake! that e'er my muse has reason. An' gusty sucker! When Vulcan gies his bellows breath. An' ploughmen gather wi' their graith. Or plack frae them. The brawnie.

Ye Scots. plackless devils like mysel'! It sets you ill. burnin trash! Fell source o' mony a pain an' brash! Twins mony a poor. Wae worth that brandy. O' half his days. Or foreign gill. drucken hash. Poor. doylt. in a winter season. dearthfu' wines to mell. May gravels round his blather wrench. wha wish auld Scotland well! Ye chief. Wi' bitter. An' hardly. to you my tale I tell. by Robert Burns To wyte her countrymen wi' treason! But mony daily weet their weason Wi' liquors nice. Ferintosh! O sadly lost! 174 . What twists his gruntle wi' a glunch O' sour disdain. what tuneless cranks Are my poor verses! Thou comes—they rattle in their ranks. An' sends. An' gouts torment him. inch by inch. E'er Spier her price. auld Scotland's cash To her warst faes. At ither's a-s! Thee. Out owre a glass o' whisky-punch Wi' honest men! O Whisky! soul o' plays and pranks! Accept a bardie's gratfu' thanks! When wanting thee.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. beside.

175 1786 The Auld Farmer's New-Year-Morning Salutation To His Auld Mare. there's a ripp to thy auld baggie: Tho' thou's howe-backit now. thrice! There. an' knaggie. Wha mak the whisky stells their prize! Haud up thy han'. Fortune! if thou'll but gie me still Hale breeks. Maggie On giving her the accustomed ripp of corn to hansel in the New Year. a scone. seize the blinkers! An' bake them up in brunstane pies For poor damn'd drinkers. An' rowth o' rhyme to rave at will. twice. A Guid New-year I wish thee. an' whisky gill. For loyal Forbes' charter'd boast Is ta'en awa? Thae curst horse-leeches o' the' Excise. an' barkin hoast May kill us a'. by Robert Burns Scotland lament frae coast to coast! Now colic grips. Maggie! Hae. Tak a' the rest. Deil! ance.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. An' deal't about as thy blind skill Directs thee best. I've seen the day .

by Robert Burns Thou could hae gaen like ony staggie. A bonie gray: He should been tight that daur't to raize thee. quiet. an' swank. I've seen thee dappl't. Out-owre the lay. sleek an' glaizie. That day. tawie. Ye then was trotting wi' your minnie: Tho' ye was trickie. Wi' maiden air! 176 . When ye bure hame my bonie bride: An' sweet an' gracefu' she did ride. An' unco sonsie. an' crazy. Ance in a day. an' cannie. stiff. 'twas weel-won gear. ye pranc'd wi' muckle pride. As e'er tread yird. slee. steeve. Tho' now thou's dowie.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. An' thy auld hide as white's a daisie. Ye ne'er was donsie. An' fifty mark. A filly buirdly. An' could hae flown out-owre a stank. Sin' thou was my guid-father's mear. Tho' it was sma'. It's now some nine-an'-twenty year. o' tocher clear. Like ony bird. But hamely. Thou ance was i' the foremost rank. an' funnie. An' thou was stark. When first I gaed to woo my Jenny. He gied me thee. An' set weel down a shapely shank.

in aught hours' gaun. by Robert Burns Kyle-Stewart I could bragged wide For sic a pair. but just a wattle O' saugh or hazel. An' gar't them whaizle: Nae whip nor spur. As e'er in tug or tow was drawn! Aft thee an' I. But sax Scotch mile. 177 . We took the road aye like a swallow: At brooses thou had ne'er a fellow. Far. behin'! When thou an' I were young an' skeigh. An' stable-meals at fairs were dreigh. and snore. An' wintle like a saumont coble. far. An' ca't thee mad. When thou was corn't. For pith an' speed. Thou was a noble fittie-lan'. The sma'.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. an' skreigh An' tak the road! Town's-bodies ran. an' I was mellow. droop-rumpl't. an' stood abeigh. ye was a jinker noble. But ev'ry tail thou pay't them hollowm Whare'er thou gaed. For heels an' win'! An' ran them till they a' did wauble. How thou wad prance. In guid March-weather. That day. Tho' now ye dow but hoyte and hobble. thou try't their mettle. hunter cattle Might aiblins waur't thee for a brattle.

But thy auld tail thou wad hae whiskit.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Thou never braing't. Then stood to blaw. An' wi' the weary warl' fought! An' mony an anxious day. For that. That thou hast nurst: They drew me thretteen pund an' twa. I thought We wad be beat! 178 . and breastit. Thou never lap. My pleugh is now thy bairn-time a'. An' spread abreed thy weel-fill'd brisket. Thou snoov't awa. Till sprittie knowes wad rair't an' riskit An' slypet owre. an' fetch't. Forbye sax mae I've sell't awa. or simmer. In cart or car thou never reestit. When frosts lay lang. I gied thy cog a wee bit heap Aboon the timmer: I ken'd my Maggie wad na sleep. The steyest brae thou wad hae fac't it. Mony a sair daurk we twa hae wrought. An' threaten'd labour back to keep. an' fliskit. Wi' pith an' power. For days thegither. The vera warst. by Robert Burns Hae turn'd sax rood beside our han'. an' snaws were deep. an' sten't. But just thy step a wee thing hastit. Four gallant brutes as e'er did draw.

his mouth. But whalpit some place far abroad. An' thy auld days may end in starvin. Twa dogs. they ca'd him Caesar. Wi' tentie care I'll flit thy tether To some hain'd rig.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Was keepit for His Honor's pleasure: His hair. When wearin' thro' the afternoon. 179 The Twa Dogs^1 A Tale 'Twas in that place o' Scotland's isle. his lugs. that were na thrang at hame. We'll toyte about wi' ane anither. That now perhaps thou's less deservin. Whare ye may nobly rax your leather. his size. The first I'll name. Forgather'd ance upon a time. Wi' something yet. A heapit stimpart. We've worn to crazy years thegither. Wi' sma' fatigue. I'll reserve ane Laid by for you. . That bears the name o' auld King Coil. An' think na'. For my last fow. Shew'd he was nane o' Scotland's dogs. by Robert Burns Yet here to crazy age we're brought. Upon a bonie day in June. my auld trusty servan'.

"—R. But wad hae spent an hour caressin. The fient a pride.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. He was a gash an' faithfu' tyke. Hung owre his hurdie's wi' a swirl.^2 Was made lang syne. Wha for his friend an' comrade had him. his touzie back Weel clad wi' coat o' glossy black. 180 . But though he was o' high degree. Cuchullin's dog in Ossian's "Fingal. His gawsie tail. raving billie. As ever lap a sheugh or dyke. tho' e'er sae duddie. And in freak had Luath ca'd him. An' stroan't on stanes an' hillocks wi' him. Ev'n wi' al tinkler-gipsy's messin: At kirk or market. baws'nt face Aye gat him friends in ilka place. [Footnote 1: Luath was Burns' own dog. But he wad stan't. His locked. ranting. Wi' social nose whiles snuff'd an' snowkit. mill or smiddie. His breast was white. The tither was a ploughman's collie— A rhyming. sonsie.—Lord knows how lang. His honest.] [Footnote 2: Luath. Nae tawted tyke. B. nae pride had he. as glad to see him. letter'd. braw brass collar Shew'd him the gentleman an' scholar. wi' upward curl. After some dog in Highland Sang.] Nae doubt but they were fain o' ither. And unco pack an' thick thegither. by Robert Burns Whare sailors gang to fish for cod.

An' there began a lang digression. it's nought but toiling At baking. an' sic like trashtrie. Our whipper-in. Frae morn to e'en. Until wi' daffin' weary grown Upon a knowe they set them down. Our laird gets in his racked rents. Whiles scour'd awa' in lang excursion." Caesar I've aften wonder'd. He ca's his coach. frying. The yellow letter'd Geordie keeks. an' a' his stents: He rises when he likes himsel'. wee. blasted wonner. As lang's my tail. About the "lords o' the creation. thro' the steeks. where. An' worry'd ither in diversion. What sort o' life poor dogs like you have. by Robert Burns Whiles mice an' moudieworts they howkit. roasting. An' tho' the gentry first are stechin.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Yet ev'n the ha' folk fill their pechan Wi' sauce. Poor. That's little short o' downright wastrie. Better than ony tenant-man His Honour has in a' the lan': 181 . worthless elf. ragouts. He draws a bonie silken purse. His flunkies answer at the bell. honest Luath. boiling. What way poor bodies liv'd ava. it eats a dinner. His coals. he ca's his horse. An' when the gentry's life I saw. his kane.

he thus sustains. How they maun thole a factor's snash. ditchers. an' sic like. Himsel'. I've notic'd. an' disrespeckit! Lord man. Wi' dirty stanes biggin a dyke. Like loss o' health or want o' masters. Ye maist wad think. As I wad by a stinkin brock. A smytrie o' wee duddie weans. An' they maun starve o' cauld an' hunger: But how it comes. to keep Them right an' tight in thack an' rape. whiles they're fash't eneugh: A cottar howkin in a sheugh. an' clever hizzies. scant o'cash. an' cuff'd. an' sic cattle. An' when they meet wi' sair disasters. Luath Trowth. by Robert Burns An' what poor cot-folk pit their painch in.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Caesar.— Poor tenant bodies. a wife. They're maistly wonderfu' contented. How huff'd. Baring a quarry.— An' mony a time my heart's been wae. 182 . Are bred in sic a way as this is. An' nought but his han'-daurk. An' buirdly chiels. our gentry care as little For delvers. Caesar But then to see how ye're negleckit. I never kent yet. on our laird's court-day. I own it's past my comprehension. a wee touch langer. They gang as saucy by poor folk.

But surely poor-folk maun be wretches! Luath They're no sae wretched's ane wad think. When rural life. 183 . Wi' kindling fury i' their breasts. an' fear an' tremble! I see how folk live that hae riches. To mind the Kirk and State affairs. An' whiles twalpennie worth o' nappy Can mak the bodies unco happy: They lay aside their private cares. Their grushie weans an' faithfu' wives. curse an' swear He'll apprehend them. Tho' constantly on poortith's brink. Or tell what new taxation's comin. wi' aspect humble. They're aye in less or mair provided: An' tho' fatigued wi' close employment. They're sae accustom'd wi' the sight. A blink o' rest's a sweet enjoyment. They get the jovial. of ev'ry station.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Then chance and fortune are sae guided. They'll talk o' patronage an' priests. As bleak-fac'd Hallowmass returns. An' ferlie at the folk in Lon'on. That sweetens a' their fire-side. by Robert Burns He'll stamp an' threaten. An' hear it a'. The prattling things are just their pride. While they maun stan'. The view o't gives them little fright. poind their gear. rantin kirns. The dearest comfort o' their lives.

Some rascal's pridefu' greed to quench. The young anes rantin thro' the house— My heart has been sae fain to see them. An' sheds a heart-inspiring steam. The luntin pipe. an' social Mirth Forgets there's Care upo' the earth. Are handed round wi' right guid will. For Britain's guid his saul indentin— Caesar Haith. That merry day the year begins. Are riven out baith root an' branch. by Robert Burns Unite in common recreation. Wha thinks to knit himsel the faster In favour wi' some gentle master. Sic game is now owre aften play'd. The cantie auld folks crackin crouse. Still it's owre true that ye hae said. Love blinks. ye little ken about it: For Britain's guid! guid faith! I doubt it. Mortgaging. They bar the door on frosty win's. lad. masquerading: 184 . There's mony a creditable stock O' decent. That I for joy hae barkit wi' them. Wit slaps. The nappy reeks wi' mantling ream. an' sneeshin mill. Say rather.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. aiblins. thrang a parliamentin. gaun as Premiers lead him: An' saying ay or no's they bid him: At operas an' plays parading. honest. Wha. gambling. fawsont folk.

an' faction. or Versailles. Or by Madrid he takes the rout. He rives his father's auld entails. Feint haet o' them's ill-hearted fellows.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. an' see the worl'. the tenant. Except for breakin o' their timmer. The laird. feud. For Britain's guid! for her destruction! Wi' dissipation. 185 . Or down Italian vista startles. An' clear the consequential sorrows. Love-gifts of Carnival signoras. Or speakin lightly o' their limmer. ramblin billies. An' please themsels wi' country sports. To thrum guitars an' fecht wi' nowt. There. To Hague or Calais takes a waft. Whore-hunting amang groves o' myrtles: Then bowses drumlie German-water. at Vienna. an' the cotter! For thae frank. To mak himsel look fair an' fatter. rantin. in a frolic daft. Or shootin of a hare or moor-cock. To mak a tour an' tak a whirl. man! dear sirs! is that the gate They waste sae mony a braw estate! Are we sae foughten an' harass'd For gear to gang that gate at last? O would they stay aback frae courts. To learn bon ton. by Robert Burns Or maybe. It wad for ev'ry ane be better. Luath Hech.

A country girl at her wheel. Caesar Lord. The very thought o't need na fear them. by Robert Burns The ne'er-a-bit they're ill to poor folk. ye wad ne'er envy them! It's true. she's unco weel. 186 . Her dizzen's dune. Sure great folk's life's a life o' pleasure? Nae cauld nor hunger e'er can steer them. For a' their colleges an' schools.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. In like proportion. Their nights unquiet. less will hurt them. An' fill auld age wi' grips an' granes: But human bodies are sic fools. dull. That when nae real ills perplex them. But will ye tell me. an' ladies warst. Their days insipid. yet uneasy. They mak enow themsel's to vex them. The gentles. His acre's till'd. an' restless. Thro' winter's cauld. were ye but whiles whare I am. man. Tho' deil-haet ails them. they need na starve or sweat. lank an' lazy. But gentlemen. An' aye the less they hae to sturt them. Master Caesar. lang. or simmer's heat: They've nae sair wark to craze their banes. An'ev'n their sports. They loiter. their balls an' races. A country fellow at the pleugh. Wi' ev'n-down want o' wark are curst. an' tasteless. he's right eneugh. lounging. Their galloping through public places.

Then sowther a' in deep debauches. man an' woman. Whiles. Niest day their life is past enduring. An' darker gloamin brought the night. By this. owre the wee bit cup an' platie. Ae night they're mad wi' drink an' whoring. Or lee-lang nights. Stake on a chance a farmer's stackyard. The ladies arm-in-arm in clusters. Rejoic'd they werena men but dogs. by Robert Burns There's sic parade. An' cheat like ony unhanged blackguard. An' each took aff his several way.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. There's some exceptions. As great an' gracious a' as sisters. The men cast out in party-matches. They're a' run-deils an' jads thegither. 187 . the sun was out of sight. But hear their absent thoughts o' ither. Resolv'd to meet some ither day. sic pomp. The joy can scarcely reach the heart. The kye stood rowtin i' the loan. They sip the scandal-potion pretty. The bum-clock humm'd wi' lazy drone. But this is gentry's life in common. an' art. When up they gat an' shook their lugs. wi' crabbit leuks Pore owre the devil's pictur'd beuks.

An' doucely manage our affairs In parliament.—R. by Robert Burns 188 The Author's Earnest Cry And Prayer To the Right Honourable and Honourable Scotch Representatives in the House of Commons. of session 1786. An like to brust! [Footnote 1: This was written before the Act anent the Scotch distilleries. Wha represent our brughs an' shires. Alas! my roupit Muse is hearse! Your Honours' hearts wi' grief 'twad pierce. ye knights an' squires. Ye Irish lords. open. To you a simple poet's pray'rs Are humbly sent.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. for which Scotland and the author return their most grateful thanks. E'er sin' they laid that curst restriction On aqua-vitae. An' move their pity. An' rouse them up to strong conviction. To see her sittin on her arse Low i' the dust. And scriechinhout prosaic verse. Scotland an' me's in great affliction. Stand forth an' tell yon Premier youth The honest.] Tell them wha hae the chief direction. naked truth: .^1 Dearest of distillation! last and best— —How art thou lost!— Parody on Milton.B.

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. an' never fash your thumb! Let posts an' pensions sink or soom Wi' them wha grant them. Her mutchkin stowp as toom's a whissle. In gath'rin votes you were na slack. An' cheek-for-chow. Triumphant crushin't like a mussel. by Robert Burns Tell him o' mine an' Scotland's drouth. But raise your arm. a chuffie vintner Colleaguing join. Picking her pouch as bare as winter Of a' kind coin. An' hum an' haw. Paint Scotland greetin owre her thrissle. 189 . Seizin a stell. Or limpet shell! Then. Now stand as tightly by your tack: Ne'er claw your lug. Far better want them. that bears the name o' Scot. Is there. His servants humble: The muckle deevil blaw you south If ye dissemble! Does ony great man glunch an' gloom? Speak out. If honestly they canna come. But feels his heart's bluid rising hot. on the tither hand present her— A blackguard smuggler right behint her. An' damn'd excisemen in a bussle. an' fidge your back. an' tell your crack Before them a'.

Frederick and Ilay. Dundas his name:^6 Erskine. An' tell them wi'a patriot-heat Ye winna bear it? Some o' you nicely ken the laws.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. by Robert Burns To see his poor auld mither's pot Thus dung in staves. The Laird o' Graham. An' gar them hear it.^7 True Campbells. auld cantie carlin greet. Trode i' the mire out o' sight? But could I like Montgomeries fight. An' no get warmly to your feet. Dempster.^3 a true blue Scot I'se warran'. Or gab like Boswell.^8 190 . a chap that's damn'd aulfarran'.^2 There's some sark-necks I wad draw tight. God bless your Honours! can ye see't— The kind. An' plunder'd o' her hindmost groat By gallows knaves? Alas! I'm but a nameless wight. Thee.^5 An' ane. Then echo thro' Saint Stephen's wa's Auld Scotland's wrangs. chaste Kilkerran. To round the period an' pause. aith-detesting. a spunkie Norland billie.^4 An' that glib-gabbit Highland baron. An' with rhetoric clause on clause To mak harangues. An' tie some hose well.

the bauld Sir Willie. wi' a reekin whittle.^10 my watchman stented. Henry Dundas.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. my boys! exert your mettle. Lord Advocate for Scotland. Ye'd lend a hand. See sodger Hugh. Play'd her that pliskie!) . afterward Lord Erskine. the biographer of Johnson. I ken if that your sword were wanted. But when there's ought to say anent it. and Ilay Campbell. M. Or faith! I'll wad my new pleugh-pettle.^9 An' mony ithers. Whom auld Demosthenes or Tully Might own for brithers.] [Footnote 6: Right Hon. If poets e'er are represented. by Robert Burns 191 [Footnote 2: James Boswell of Auchinleck.] [Footnote 8: Lord Frederick Campbell. eldest son of the Duke of Montrose.] An' Livistone. Her lost Militia fir'd her bluid. To get auld Scotland back her kettle. P. second brother of the Duke of Argyll. This while she's been in crankous mood.] [Footnote 4: Sir Adam Ferguson of Kilkerran. (Deil na they never mair do guid. Bart. afterward President of the Court of Session. Ye'll see't or lang.] [Footnote 3: George Dempster of Dunnichen.] [Footnote 7: Probably Thomas. Anither sang. She'll teach you.] [Footnote 5: The Marquis of Graham. Ye're at a stand. Arouse.

An' to the muckle house repair. I'll pledge my aith in guid braid Scotch. afterward Earl of Eglinton. An' rin her whittle to the hilt. Was kindly seek.] Yon ill-tongu'd tinkler. Charlie Fox. An' strive. of Livingstone. Wi' instant speed. An' drink his health in auld Nance Tinnock's ^12 Nine times a-week. An'durk an' pistol at her belt. wi' a' your wit an' lear. my hearty cocks! E'en cowe the cadie! An' send him to his dicing box An' sportin' lady. May taunt you wi' his jeers and mocks. Tell you guid bluid o' auld Boconnock's. To get remead. An' straik her cannie wi' the hair. sirs! then speak her fair. An' Lord! if ance they pit her till't. Baronet. 192 [Footnote 9: Sir Wm. Her tartan petticoat she'll kilt. If he some scheme. like tea an' winnocks.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Could he some commutation broach. But gie him't het. by Robert Burns An' now she's like to rin red-wud About her whisky. ^11 I'll be his debt twa mashlum bonnocks. I' the first she meets! For God sake. Augustus Cunningham.] [Footnote 10: Col. . She'll tak the streets. Hugh Montgomery.

Then. Their lot auld Scotland ne're envies. Auld Scotland has a raucle tongue. rich-clust'ring.] In spite o' a' the thievish kaes. a' your days. Jamie's! Your humble poet sings an' prays. Before his face. tho'a minister grow dorty. May still you mither's heart support ye. Ye'll snap your gingers. She'll no desert. An' if she promise auld or young To tak their part. ye chosen Five-and-Forty. Postscript Let half-starv'd slaves in warmer skies See future wines. where he sometimes studies politics over a glass of gude auld Scotch Drink.] [Footnote 12: A worthy old hostess of the author's in Mauchline. An' kick your place. Wi' sowps o' kail and brats o' claise. poor an' hearty. While Rab his name is. rise. queer hotch-potch. by Robert Burns He needna fear their foul reproach Nor erudition. . whose grandfather was of Boconnock in Cornwall. Yon mixtie-maxtie.—R. She's just a devil wi' a rung. Tho' by the neck she should be strung. And now.B. The Coalition. God bless your Honours. 193 [Footnote 11: Pitt. That haunt St.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns.

by Robert Burns But. An' there's the foe! He has nae thought but how to kill Twa at a blow. wi' fearless eye he sees him. 194 . Till skelp—a shot—they're aff. What tho' their Phoebus kinder warms. An' physically causes seek. An' raise a philosophic reek. They downa bide the stink o' powther. Wi'bluidy hand a welcome gies him. dishonour arms In hungry droves! Their gun's a burden on their shouther. a'throw'ther. To save their skin.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Death comes. While fragrance blooms and beauty charms. Their bauldest thought's a hank'ring swither To stan' or rin. hounded forth. such is royal George's will. blythe and frisky. But bring a Scotchman frae his hill. faint-hearted doubtings tease him. His latest draught o' breathin lea'es him In faint huzzas. When wretches range. An' when he fa's. Nae cauld. Sages their solemn een may steek. The scented groves. She eyes her freeborn. Say. martial boys Tak aff their whisky. in famish'd swarms. Or. Clap in his cheek a Highland gill.

respected mither! Tho' whiles ye moistify your leather. Scotland. An' ye wha leather rax an' draw. An' pour divine libations For joy this day. Kilmarnock wabsters. An' pour your creeshie nations. that imp o' hell. Freedom an' whisky gang thegither! Take aff your dram! 195 The Ordination For sense they little owe to frugal Heav'n— To please the mob. whare ye sit on craps o' heather. by Robert Burns In clime an' season. Till. ane an' a' An' there tak up your stations. Of a' denominations. Cam in wi' Maggie Lauder. Swith to the Ligh Kirk. Then aff to Begbie's in a raw. Ye tine your dam. An' Russell^3 sair misca'd her: This day Mackinlay^4 taks the flail. fidge an' claw. Curst Common-sense. they hide the little giv'n.^1 But Oliphant^2 aft made her yell. An' he's the boy will blaud her! . But tell me whisky's name in Greek I'll tell the reason.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. my auld.

"—R. Which made Canaan a nigger. James Oliphant.] Mak haste an' turn King David owre. And gloriously she'll whang her Wi' pith this day.] [Footnote 4: Rev. For Heresy is in her pow'r.] [Footnote 3: Rev. try his mettle on the creed. There. James Mackinlay. Kilmarnock. An' touch it aff wi' vigour. How graceless Ham^5 leugh at his dad.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. An' set the bairns to daud her Wi' dirt this day.^7 the scauldin jad. minister of Chapel of Ease. O' double verse come gie us four. Nae mair the knaves shall wrang her. John Russell of Kilmarnock. An' bind him down wi' caution.B. let a proper text be read. Was like a bluidy tiger I' th' inn that day. [Footnote 1: Alluding to a scoffing ballad which was made on the admission of the late reverend and worthy Mr. Come. Wi' whore-abhorring rigour. Or Zipporah. Lihdsay to the "Laigh Kirk. 196 .] [Footnote 2: Rev. An' skirl up the Bangor: This day the kirk kicks up a stoure. And lilt wi' holy clangor. by Robert Burns He'll clap a shangan on her tail. Or Phineas^6 drove the murdering blade.

And o'er the thairms be tryin. 52. Because thy pasture's scanty. To think upon our Zion. auld Kilmarnock. B. rare to see our elbucks wheep. B. B] Nae mair by Babel's streams we'll weep. Nae mair thou'lt rowt out-owre the dale. screw the pegs wi' tunefu' cheep. But ilka day. 197 . cock thy tail. 8. Spare them nae day.—R. An' toss thy horns fu' canty. Especial.] [Footnote : Numbers xxv. Lang.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns.—R. Like baby-clouts a-dryin! Come. Gie them sufficient threshin. And a' like lamb-tails flyin Fu' fast this day. Patronage. Has shor'd the Kirk's undoin. Now. No gi'en by way o' dainty. by Robert Burns That stipend is a carnal weed He taks by for the fashion. with rod o' airn. to feed. And hing our fiddles up to sleep. rams that cross the breed.] [Footnote 7: Exodus iv. And gie him o'er the flock. An' runts o' grace the pick an' wale. For lapfu's large o' gospel kail Shall fill thy crib in plenty. [Footnote 5: Genesis ix. And punish each transgression.—R. Oh. 22.

] 198 . Or try the wicked town of Ayr. And sound. John Robertson. nae reflection on your lear. Or to the Netherton^10 repair. Fast. But steek your gab for ever. Boyd. Has proven to its ruin:^8 Our patron.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns.] [Footnote 11: The Rev. by Robert Burns As lately Fenwick. To fry them in his caudrons. this day. For there they'll think you clever. a "Moderate. [Footnote 8: Rev. Now Robertson^9 harangue nae mair. And aye he catch'd the tither wretch. We never had sic twa drones. honest man! Glencairn. elect bairn.] [Footnote 10: A district of Kilmarnock. Or. Auld Hornie did the Laigh Kirk watch. An' turn a carpet weaver Aff-hand this day. Just like a winkin baudrons. pastor of Fenwick. He saw mischief was brewin. He's waled us out a true ane." whom Mackinlay succeeded. Wm. John Multrie.] [Footnote 9: Rev. sair forfairn. But now his Honour maun detach. Ye may commence a shaver. An' like a godly. Wi' a' his brimstone squadrons. fast this day. Mu'trie^11 and you were just a match.

see auld Orthodoxy's faes She's swingein thro' the city! Hark.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. how the nine-tail'd cat she plays! I vow it's unco pretty: There. with his Greekish face. They'll gie her on a rape a hoyse. bring the tither mutchkin in. how he gies the tither yell. An' banish'd our dominions. they're packed aff to hell. are the boys That heresy can torture. Embracing all opinions. Come. To mak to Jamie Beattie Her plaint this day. by Robert Burns See. But there's Morality himsel'. And Common-sense is gaun. Hear. how she peels the skin an' fell. And cowe her measure shorter By th' head some day. Learning. Russell. And here's—for a conclusion— To ev'ry New Light^12 mother's son. O happy day! rejoice. rejoice! Come bouse about the porter! Morality's demure decoys Shall here nae mair find quarter: Mackinlay. 199 . she says. As ane were peelin onions! Now there. Grunts out some Latin ditty. Henceforth this day. Between his twa companions! See.

some day.—R.] 200 Epistle To James Smith Friendship. Just gaun to see you. Or Patronage intrusion. Ye've cost me twenty pair o' shoon. For me. mysterious cement of the soul! Sweet'ner of Life. An' ev'ry ither pair that's done. and ev'ry skin. An' ev'ry star that blinks aboon. We'll light a spunk. That auld. That e'er attempted stealth or rief! Ye surely hae some warlock-brief Owre human hearts. I swear by sun an' moon. For ne'er a bosom yet was prief Against your arts.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Nature. the slee'st. Mair taen I'm wi' you. B. and solder of Society! I owe thee much—Blair. pawkie thief. We'll rin them aff in fusion Like oil. [Footnote 12: "New Light" is a cant phrase in the west of Scotland for those religious opinions which Dr. by Robert Burns From this time forth. Taylor of Norwich has so strenuously defended. To mak amends for scrimpit stature. Dear Smith. capricious carlin. Confusion! If mair they deave us wi' their din. .

Far seen in Greek. deep men o' letters. Wi' hasty summon. "There's ither poets. honest man. tak tent? Ye'll shaw your folly. Just now I've ta'en the fit o' rhyme. My barmie noddle's working prime. Has fated me the russet coat. Some rhyme (vain thought!) for needfu' cash. This while my notion's taen a sklent. by Robert Burns She's turn'd you off. on ev'ry feature She's wrote the Man. For me. But. Something cries "Hooklie!" I red you. Has blest me with a random-shot O'countra wit. My fancy yerkit up sublime. a human creature On her first plan. black prent. 201 . an aim I never fash. Hae ye a leisure-moment's time To hear what's comin? Some rhyme a neibor's name to lash. much your betters. in requit. An' raise a din.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. To try my fate in guid. But still the mair I'm that way bent. Some rhyme to court the countra clash. I rhyme for fun. And in her freaks. The star that rules my luckless lot. An' damn'd my fortune to the groat.

To garland my poetic brows! Henceforth I'll rove where busy ploughs Are whistlin' thrang. A' future ages. hand in hand. Their unknown pages. Maks hours like minutes. by Robert Burns Hae thought they had ensur'd their debtors. Is a' enchanted fairy-land. all unknown. Where Pleasure is the magic-wand. sae far's I understand. Now moths deform. The magic-wand then let us wield. That. wi' tentless heed How never-halting moments speed. This life. I'll wander on.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. I'll lay me with th' inglorious dead Forgot and gone! But why o' death being a tale? Just now we're living sound and hale. in shapeless tatters. Till fate shall snap the brittle thread. Then top and maintop crowd the sail. For ance that five-an'-forty's speel'd. wielded right." Then farewell hopes of laurel-boughs. An' teach the lanely heights an' howes My rustic sang. before Enjoyment's gale. Let's tak the tide. Then. Dance by fu' light. 202 . Heave Care o'er-side! And large.

find a flow'ry spot. Keen hope does ev'ry sinew brace. We frisk away. To joy an' play. careless roamin. in thy morning. We eye the rose upon the brier. And tho' the puny wound appear. deluding woman. And haply eye the barren hut With high disdain. Young Fancy's rays the hills adorning! Cold-pausing Caution's lesson scorning. 203 . at th' expected warning. We' creepin pace. Then fareweel vacant. But care or pain. They drink the sweet and eat the fat. Some. joyless eild. With steady aim. The Joy of joys! O Life! how pleasant. we wander here. lucky. Short while it grieves. Like school-boys. Wi' wrinkl'd face. When ance life's day draws near the gloamin. We wander there. Comes hostin. Among the leaves. crazy. hirplin owre the field. An' social noise: An' fareweel dear. weary.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. by Robert Burns See. some Fortune chase. Unmindful that the thorn is near. An' fareweel cheerfu' tankards foamin. For which they never toil'd nor swat.

Until they sconner. Aye rowth o' rhymes. To right or left eternal swervin. by Robert Burns Thro' fair. like your humble servan'. And kneel. In all her climes. They zig-zag on. thro' foul. Till. "Gie dreepin roasts to countra lairds. "Tho' I should wander Terra o'er. Dempster^1 merits it. Gie fine braw claes to fine life-guards. An' seize the prey: Then cannie. Let's sing our sang. They aften groan. Poor wights! nae rules nor roads observin. And maids of honour. And others. they urge the race. ye Pow'rs! and warm implore. They close the day. Grant me but this. obscure an' starvin. curst with age. in some cozie place. A garter gie to Willie Pitt. My pen I here fling to the door. poor complaining! Is fortune's fickle Luna waning? E'n let her gang! Beneath what light she has remaining. Alas! what bitter toil an' straining— But truce with peevish. 204 . I ask no more.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. "A title. An' yill an' whisky gie to cairds. Till icicles hing frae their beards.

calm an'cool. I rhyme away. 205 . [Footnote 1: George Dempster of Dunnichen. I jouk beneath Misfortune's blows As weel's I may.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Grave." An anxious e'e I never throws Behint my lug. As lang's the Muses dinna fail To say the grace. sentimental traces In your unletter'd.. nae doubt ye're wise. a dyke! Nae hair-brain'd. care. tideless-blooded. Ye are sae grave. But gravissimo. Be't water-brose or muslin-kail. And I'm content. Wi' cheerfu' face.] "While ye are pleas'd to keep me hale. Sworn foe to sorrow. Compar'd wi' you—O fool! fool! fool! How much unlike! Your hearts are just a standing pool. per cent. sterling wit. M. and prose. Your lives. But give me real. I'll sit down o'er my scanty meal. solemn basses Ye hum away. or by my nose. by Robert Burns Gie wealth to some be-ledger'd cit. In cent. nameless faces! In arioso trills and graces Ye never stray. O ye douce folk that live by rule.P.

There. Jamie. While faithless snaws ilk step betray Whare she has been. The rattling squad: I see ye upward cast your eyes— Ye ken the road! Whilst I—but I shall haud me there. Ben i' the spence. ram-stam boys. The lee-lang day had tired me. right pensivelie. I gaed to rest. Far i' the west. And when the day had clos'd his e'e.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Content wi' you to mak a pair. And hunger'd maukin taen her way. . I sat and ey'd the spewing reek. To kail-yards green. Whare'er I gang. lanely by the ingle-cheek. 206 The Vision Duan First^1 The sun had clos'd the winter day. by Robert Burns Nae ferly tho' ye do despise The hairum-scairum. The curless quat their roarin play. But quat my sang. Wi' you I'll scarce gang ony where— Then. I shall say nae mair. The thresher's weary flingin-tree.

I might. misty clime. The auld clay biggin. B. half-fed. half-mad. Or strutted in a bank and clarkit My cash-account. [Footnote 1: Duan.—R. All in this mottie. An' done nae thing. a term of Ossian's for the different divisions of a digressive poem. Had I to guid advice but harkit. braw. While here.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. by Robert Burns That fill'd. An' heard the restless rattons squeak About the riggin. An' by my ingle-lowe I saw. hae led a market. A tight. I backward mus'd on wasted time. "blockhead! coof!" And heav'd on high my waukit loof. Now bleezin bright. See his Cath-Loda. wi' hoast-provoking smeek. Is a' th' amount.] I started. 2 of M'Pherson's translation. outlandish hizzie. But stringing blethers up in rhyme. mutt'ring. Or some rash aith. by this. For fools to sing. half-sarkit. How I had spent my youthfu' prime. 207 . An' jee! the door gaed to the wa'. That I henceforth wad be rhyme-proof Till my last breath— When click! the string the snick did draw. To swear by a' yon starry roof. vol.

rustic grace Shone full upon her. Ye need na doubt.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. leaf-clad holly-boughs Were twisted. And come to stop those reckless vows. Down flow'd her robe. And seem'd. round her brows. I held my whisht. Green. My gazing wonder chiefly drew: Deep lights and shades. she blusht. like honest Worth. of greenish hue. A "hair-brain'd. Beam'd keen with honour. I took her for some Scottish Muse. An' such a leg! my bonie Jean Could only peer it. A wildly-witty. bold-mingling. Would soon been broken. Her eye. sae taper. to my astonish'd view. When sweet. a tartan sheen. Till half a leg was scrimply seen. threw A lustre grand. gracefu'. sentimental trace" Was strongly marked in her face. was crusht I glowr'd as eerie's I'd been dusht In some wild glen. Her mantle large. tight an' clean— Nane else came near it. The infant aith. By that same token. 208 . An' stepped ben. ev'n turn'd on empty space. half-form'd. slender. Sae straught. by Robert Burns Come full in sight.

Here. Low. Doon pour'd down his far-fetch'd floods. An ancient borough rear'd her head. With surging foam. by Robert Burns A well-known land. The lordly dome. There.] 209 . Still. in a sandy valley spread. 1787. 180. Or ruins pendent in the air. Here. There. Other stanzas. rivers in the sea were lost. On to the shore. There. or palace fair. I could discern. And many a lesser torrent scuds. distant shone Art's lofty boast. mountains to the skies were toss't: Here.^2 By stately tow'r. With feature stern. Bold stems of heroes. here and there. And polish'd grace. tumbling billows mark'd the coast. well-fed Irwine stately thuds: Auld hermit Ayr staw thro' his woods. With seeming roar. never published by Burns himself. some seem'd to dare. as in Scottish story read. Some seem'd to muse. [Footnote 2: The seven stanzas following this were first printed in the Edinburgh edition. are given on p. To see a race heroic^3 wheel. She boasts a race To ev'ry nobler virtue bred. My heart did glowing transport feel.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns.

^5 The chief. back-recoiling. An aged Judge.—R.^8 Near many a hermit-fancied cove (Fit haunts for friendship or for love. by Robert Burns [Footnote 3: The Wallaces. on Sark who glorious fell. Dispensing good. B.^7 I mark'd a martial race.^6 In high command. And he whom ruthless fates expel His native land. They gave their lore. all its source and end to draw. [Footnote 4: William Wallace. pourtray'd In colours strong: Bold. to adore. where a sceptr'd Pictish shade Stalk'd round his ashes lowly laid. His Country's Saviour. In sturdy blows.] 210 .^4 mark him well! Bold Richardton's heroic swell. soldier-featur'd. That. The learned Sire and Son I saw:^9 To Nature's God. They strode along. There. Thro' many a wild. romantic grove. and Nature's law. In musing mood). I saw him rove.—R.B. This. undismay'd.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. reverential awe.] And brandish round the deep-dyed steel. With deep-struck. While. seem'd to reel Their Suthron foes.

near the family seat of the Montgomeries of Coilsfield.—R. by Robert Burns [Footnote 5: Adam Wallace of Richardton.—R.] [Footnote 7: Coilus. who was second in command under Douglas.—R. astonish'd stare.B.B. where his burial—place is still shown.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns.—R. I view'd the heavenly-seeming Fair. King of the Picts.] [Footnote 8: Barskimming. When with an elder sister's air She did me greet. Earl of Ormond. Where many a patriot-name on high. That glorious victory was principally owing to the judicious conduct and intrepid valour of the gallant laird of Craigie. "All hail! my own inspired bard! 211 . laird of Craigie. cousin to the immortal preserver of Scottish independence.] Brydon's brave ward^10 I well could spy.] [Footnote 9: Catrine. fought anno 1448.—R.B. the seat of the late Doctor and present Professor Stewart. who died of his wounds after the action. the seat of the Lord Justice— Clerk. as tradition says. lies buried. Duan Second With musing-deep. And hero shone. at the famous battle on the banks of Sark. low standing by. Beneath old Scotia's smiling eye: Who call'd on Fame. To hand him on.] [Footnote 6: Wallace.B. A whispering throb did witness bear Of kindred sweet.B. from whom the district of Kyle is said to take its name.

the great genius of this land Has many a light aerial band. Thus poorly low. Harmoniously. [Footnote 10: Colonel Fullarton. kindling spirits pour. And grace the hand. "They Scotia's race among them share: Some fire the soldier on to dare. "'Mong swelling floods of reeking gore. Charm or instruct the future age. They.—R. Their labours ply. 212 . or hoary sage. They. stand. by Robert Burns In me thy native Muse regard. As we bestow! "Know. As arts or arms they understand. To mend the honest patriot-lore. 'mid the venal senate's roar. Who."] Or. all beneath his high command.B. author of a well-known "Tour Through Sicily and Malta. Nor longer mourn thy fate is hard. "And when the bard. ardent.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. This gentleman had travelled under the care of Patrick Brydone. They bind the wild poetric rage In energy. Some rouse the patriot up to bare Corruption's heart: Some teach the bard—a darling care— The tuneful art. I come to give thee such reward. sightless.

Fullarton. And some instruct the shepherd-train. with noble ardour stung. To mark the embryotic trace Of rustic bard. Some soothe the lab'rer's weary toil For humble gains. sweet. bounded to a district-space Explore at large man's infant race. The artisan. The sceptic's bays. as various they're inclin'd. harmonious Beattie sung His 'Minstrel lays'. Some grace the maiden's artless smile. All choose. The threat'ning storm some strongly rein. the lab'ring hind.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. The rustic bard. The various man. And make his cottage-scenes beguile His cares and pains. 213 . Or tore. Hence. "To lower orders are assign'd The humbler ranks of human-kind. Some teach to meliorate the plain With tillage-skill. the brave and young. "Hence. Blythe o'er the hill. Dempster's zeal-inspired tongue. "Some. by Robert Burns Or point the inconclusive page Full on the eye. Hence. "When yellow waves the heavy grain. "Some hint the lover's harmless wile.

"With future hope I oft would gaze Fond. Thy rudely. I saw grim Nature's visage hoar Struck thy young eye. artless lays Of other times. And joy and music pouring forth In ev'ry grove. Where once the Campbells. Delighted with the dashing roar. "When ripen'd fields and azure skies Call'd forth the reapers' rustling noise. Thy natal hour. by Robert Burns And careful note each opening grace. Held ruling power: I mark'd thy embryo-tuneful flame.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. In uncouth rhymes. I saw thee leave their ev'ning joys. chiefs of fame. "I saw thee seek the sounding shore. And lonely stalk. caroll'd. "Of these am I—Coila my name: And this district as mine I claim. on thy little early ways. Or when the North his fleecy store Drove thro' the sky. "Or when the deep green-mantled earth Warm cherish'd ev'ry floweret's birth. chiming phrase. Fir'd at the simple. I saw thee eye the general mirth With boundless love. A guide and guard. 214 .

Keen-shivering. all beneath th' unrivall'd rose. Till now. with Gray. the moving flow Warm on the heart. By passion driven. In pensive walk. Misled by Fancy's meteor-ray. T e lowly daisy sweetly blows. "Thou canst not learn. To soothe thy flame. Th' adored Name. I taught thee how to pour in song. The loves. And some. the pride of Coila's plains. Those accents grateful to thy tongue. Become thy friends. nor I can show. shot thy nerves along. "I saw thy pulse's maddening play. Or pour. "Yet.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. "I taught thy manners-painting strains. the ways of simple swains. warm-blushing. strong. "When youthful love. But yet the light that led astray Was light from Heaven. Wild send thee Pleasure's devious way. To paint with Thomson's landscape glow. With Shenstone's art. by Robert Burns To vent thy bosom's swelling rise. Tho' large the forest's monarch throws His army shade. 215 . Or wake the bosom-melting throe. o'er all my wide domains Thy fame extends.

Thy tuneful flame still careful fan: Preserve the dignity of Man. That copy embraces about twenty stanzas at the end of Duan First. Can give a bliss o'ermatching thine. Seven of these he restored in printing his second edition. as noted on p. A rustic bard. Stewart of Stair. And trust the Universal Plan Will all protect. "To give my counsels all in one. Adown the glade. Strive in thy humble sphere to shine. which he cancelled when he came to print the price in his Kilmarnock volume. "Then never murmur nor repine. Burns presented a manuscript copy of the Vision. like a passing thought. not Potosi's mine.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. "And wear thou this"—she solemn said. And. [To Mrs.] 216 . And bound the holly round my head: The polish'd leaves and berries red Did rustling play. The following are the verses which he left unpublished. And trust me. Nor king's regard. With soul erect. 174. by Robert Burns Yet green the juicy hawthorn grows. she fled In light away.

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns.B. Still. That owned me frater. The soldier sparkled in his eye. It owns a lord Who far in western climates fought. [Footnote 1: Sundrum. martial boy. among an angel brood. bold issuing forth In youthful pride.^1 An ancient tower^2 to memory brought How Dettingen's bold hero fought. That cottage. With trusty sword.B.] [Footnote 2: Stair. I spied. witness of my birth.—R. hid behind a spreading wood. I blest that noble badge with joy. Where. far from sinking into nought.^3 After 20th stanza of the text (at "Dispensing good"):— .] Among the rest I well could spy One gallant. Sweet shone their high maternal blood. And near I saw. A Lindsay race of noble worth.—R. A female pair. Famed far and wide. And father's air. An ancient Pict-built mansion stood. A diamond water. by Robert Burns 217 Suppressed Stanza's Of "The Vision" After 18th stanza of the text (at "His native land"):— With secret throes I marked that earth. graceful.

That village near. laurell'd Nine. The barbed dart. Still threats the tiny. by Robert Burns Near by arose a mansion fine^4 The seat of many a muse divine. Master of St. Not rustic muses such as mine. But th' ancient. Fond-mingling. James' Lodge.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. to adore"):— Where Lugar leaves his moorland plaid. With holly crown'd. To see where bonie Whitefoords dwelt. I mourn'd the card that Fortune dealt.^6 There Nature. From classic ground. feather'd arms. dear! Hail! Nature's pang. dearer than the parting breath Of dying friend! Not ev'n with life's wild devious path.^8 Where lately Want was idly laid. While lovely Wilhelmina warms The coldest heart. Tarbolton. like kindling wrath! Love. Love.^5 But other prospects made me melt. tuneful.B. Friendship. I felt. more strong than death! Warm Friendship's glow.] 218 .—R. [Footnote 3: Captain James Montgomerie. to which the author has the honour to belong. Your force shall end! The Power that gave the soft alarms In blooming Whitefoord's rosy charms.^7 After 21st stanza of the text (at "That.

In fervid flame.—R.] I marked busy. In rural ease.^10 And Irwine.] [Footnote 8: Cumnock. by Robert Burns [Footnote 4: Auchinleck. Brydon's brave ward.^9 Where Cessnock pours with gurgling sound. Enamour'd of the scenes around. Lamenting their late blessed land Must change its lord.^12 I saw him stand.^13 With one accord.] [Footnote 6: Mauchline. of noble name.B.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Where polish'd manners dwell with Gray.—R. bustling Trade. A name I doubly honour'd found. Near and sandy wilds. And countless flocks as wild as they. his kinsman's rustic band. And near.B. Fame humbly offering her hand. Beneath a Patroness' aid.] [Footnote 7: Miss Wilhelmina Alexander. But other scenes did charms display.^11 With knightly grace. I last did note. marking out the bound. countless hills I could survey.^14 A heart too warm.] [Footnote 5: Ballochmyle. That better please. a pulse too hot 219 . The owner of a pleasant spot. Slow runs his race. Wild.

Appear'd the Man. [Footnote 9: Mr.B. Wha will sit beside me there? Gie me Rob. When I mount the creepie-chair.] [Footnote 10: Auchinskieth. Here's His Health In Water Tune—"The Job of Journey-work.—R. 220 .—R.] [Footnote 13: Dr. the daddie o't. o'erran: But large in ev'ry feature wrote." Altho' my back be at the wa'.] O wha will own he did the faut? O wha will buy the groanin maut? O wha will tell me how to ca't? The rantin' dog.B.—R. The Rantin' Dog.] [Footnote 14: Orangefield.—R.B. the daddie o't. the daddie o't.—R. by Robert Burns At times.] [Footnote 12: Colonel Fullerton. I'll seek nae mair. Fullerton.B." O wha my babie-clouts will buy? O wha will tent me when I cry? Wha will kiss me where I lie? The rantin' dog.—R. Wha will crack to me my lane? Wha will mak me fidgin' fain? Wha will kiss me o'er again? The rantin' dog. The Daddie O't Tune—"Whare'll our guidman lie.] [Footnote 11: Caprington.B. Farquhar Gray. The rantin' dog.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. the daddie o't.B.

verse 16.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Or The Rigidly Righteous My Son. Sae brawlie's he could flatter.) O ye wha are sae guid yoursel'. Altho' my back be at the wa'. . The Rigid Righteous is a fool. vii. by Robert Burns And tho' he be the fautor. ch. Yet here's his health in water! 221 Address To The Unco Guid. (Solomon. But tho' my back be at the wa'. And tho' he be the fautor. Till for his sake I'm slighted sair. The Rigid Wise anither: The cleanest corn that ere was dight May hae some pyles o' caff in. Ye've nought to do but mark and tell Your neibours' fauts and folly! Whase life is like a weel-gaun mill. An' lump them aye thegither. Yet. Supplied wi' store o' water. And dree the kintra clatter: But tho' my back be at the wa'. here's his health in water. So ne'er a fellow-creature slight For random fits o' daffin.—Eccles. O wae gae by his wanton sides. these maxims make a rule. Sae pious and sae holy.

All joyous and unthinking.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. by Robert Burns The heaped happer's ebbing still. Right on ye scud your sea-way. That still eternal gallop! Wi' wind and tide fair i' your tail. But in the teeth o' baith to sail. careless sakes. That purity ye pride in. Hear me. their black mistakes. Think. See Social Life and Glee sit down. when your castigated pulse Gies now and then a wallop! What ragings must his veins convulse. quite transmugrified. An' still the clap plays clatter. And shudder at the niffer. they're grown Debauchery and Drinking: 222 . And (what's aft mair than a' the lave). Would here propone defences— Their donsie tricks. for their thoughtless. Their failings and mischances. It maks a unco lee-way. As counsel for poor mortals That frequent pass douce Wisdom's door For glaikit Folly's portals: I. But cast a moment's fair regard. Till. Your better art o' hidin. What maks the mighty differ. ye venerable core. Ye see your state wi' theirs compared. Discount what scant occasion gave.

A dear-lov'd lad. Who made the heart. convenience snug. Tied up in godly laces. Each spring. What's done we partly may compute.— The moving Why they do it. But know not what's resisted. A treach'rous inclination— But let me whisper i' your lug. virtuous dames. To step aside is human: One point must still be greatly dark. by Robert Burns O would they stay to calculate Th' eternal consequences. 223 . We never can adjust it. Suppose a change o' cases. Tho' they may gang a kennin wrang. Still gentler sister woman. And just as lamely can ye mark. its various tone. its various bias: Then at the balance let's be mute. Or your more dreaded hell to state. Before ye gie poor Frailty names. Then gently scan your brother man. How far perhaps they rue it. exalted. 'tis He alone Decidedly can try us. Damnation of expenses! Ye high.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. He knows each chord. Ye're aiblins nae temptation.

Imprimis. then. when in my wooing pride I. o' cowts the wale. The wilfu' creature sae I pat to.^2 An' your auld borough mony a time In days when riding was nae crime. My furr-ahin 's a wordy beast. as your mandate did request. The fourth's a Highland Donald hastle. like a blockhead. an' that too!) I play'd my fillie sic a shavie. But ance. boost to ride.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. That aft has borne me hame frae Killie. As ever drew afore a pettle. O' gudes an' gear. by Robert Burns 224 The Inventory^1 In answer to a mandate by the Surveyor of the Taxes Sir. I send you here a faithfu' list. (Lord pardon a' my sins. He'll draw me fifteen pund at least. My hand-afore 's a guid auld has-been. A damn'd red-wud Kilburnie blastie! Foreby a cowt. As ever ran afore a tail: Gin he be spar'd to be a beast. She's a' bedevil'd wi' the spavie. As e'er in tug or tow was traced. for carriage cattle. An' wight an' wilfu' a' his days been: My hand-ahin 's a weel gaun fillie. I hae four brutes o' gallant mettle. To which I'm clear to gi'e my aith. an' a' my graith. .

if kirk folks dinna clutch me. I on the Questions targe them tightly. 225 . by Robert Burns Wheel-carriages I ha'e but few. Run-deils for ranting an' for noise. Ae leg an' baith the trams are broken. mair for token. I rule them as I ought.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns.—R. I ken the deevils darena touch me. nightly. Aitken of Ayr. [Footnote 1: The "Inventory" was addressed to Mr. As fast as ony in the dwalling. a thrasher t' other: Wee Davock hauds the nowt in fother. B. I've three mischievous boys.] For men. I've nane in female servant station. Heav'n sent me ane mae than I wanted! My sonsie. A gaudsman ane. An' ye have laid nae tax on misses. surveyor of taxes for the district. I made a poker o' the spin'le. Three carts. (Lord keep me aye frae a' temptation!) I hae nae wife—and thay my bliss is. an' twa are feckly new. He'll screed you aff Effectual Calling. smirking. An' then. Tho' scarcely langer than your leg. An' aye on Sundays duly. Till. discreetly. Wi' weans I'm mair than weel contented. dear-bought Bess. An auld wheelbarrow.] [Footnote 2: Kilmarnock. An' my auld mither brunt the trin'le. faith! wee Davock's grown sae gleg. An' aften labour them completely.

remember. February 22. Gude the thankit! The kirk and you may tak you that. Dumfries House Now. if foot or horse E'er bring you in by Mauchlin corse. Nae kind of licence out I'm takin: Frae this time forth. 1786. My travel a' on foot I'll shank it. Kennedy. The day and date as under noted. An' gin ye tax her or her mither. . by Robert Burns She stares the daddy in her face. I do declare I'se ne'er ride horse nor hizzie mair. my bonie. Then know all ye whom it concerns. 226 To John Kennedy. wi' my ain hand I wrote it. Nor for my ten white shillings leuk. Enough of ought ye like but grace. It puts but little in your pat. Ere I sae dear pay for a saddle. Aiken. Thro' dirt and dub for life I'll paidle. But her. Mossgiel. I've sturdy bearers. This list. ye'se get them a' thegither! And now. Mr. sweet wee lady. By the Lord.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Subscripsi huic. Robert Burns. I've paid enough for her already. Sae dinna put me in your beuk.

An' down the gate in faith they're worse. I wiss you weel. An' mair unchancy). An' gude be wi' you. here's to you! Hae. man. Wi' you nae friendship I will troke. by Robert Burns (Lord. But if. Robt. Wi' right ingine. Then like a swine to puke an' wallow.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. I'se ne'er drink mair. And spunkie ance to mak us mellow. Till some bit callan bring me news That ye are there. Mossgiel. Wha rate the wearer by the cloak. Burness. there's lasses there wad force A hermit's fancy. there's my haun'. Nor cheap nor dear. 3rd March. Now if ye're ane o' warl's folk. An' sklent on poverty their joke. 1786. An' if we dinna hae a bouze. But gie me just a true good fallow. as I'm informed weel. sir. Wi' bitter sneer. But as I'm sayin. An' taste sic gear as Johnie brews. It's no I like to sit an' swallow. Ye hate as ill's the very deil The flinty heart that canna feel— Come. 227 . please step to Dow's. An' then we'll shine.

"See wha taks notice o' the bard!" I lap and cried fu' loud. M'Adam. gawky million. Tho'.— And when those legs to gude.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. by his banes wha in a tub Match'd Macedonian Sandy! On my ain legs thro' dirt and dub. An' barley-scone shall cheer me. Wi' welcome canna bear me. sir. Now deil-ma-care about their jaw. warm kail. a sybow-tail. I'm roos'd by Craigen-Gillan! 'Twas noble. I'll cock my nose abune them a'. I independent stand aye. A lee dyke-side. by Robert Burns 228 To Mr. Sir. I'm tauld they're loosome kimmers! . Of Craigen-Gillan In answer to an obliging Letter he sent in the commencement of my poetic career. The senseless. Heaven spare you lang to kiss the breath O' mony flow'ry simmers! An' bless your bonie lasses baith. o'er a gill I gat your card. To grant your high protection: A great man's smile ye ken fu' well Is aye a blest infection. 'twas like yourself'. I trow it made me proud.

Swith! in some beggar's haffet squattle. Wi' ither kindred. How daur ye set your fit upon her— Sae fine a lady? Gae somewhere else and seek your dinner On some poor body. Till ye've got on it— . ye're out o' sight. Whaur horn nor bane ne'er daur unsettle Your thick plantations. jumping cattle. Now haud you there. snug and tight. At Church Ha! whaur ye gaun. and sprawl.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Tho'. Detested. shunn'd by saunt an' sinner. On Seeing One On A Lady's Bonnet. Ye ugly. Below the fatt'rels. blastit wonner. Na. ye crowlin ferlie? Your impudence protects you sairly. faith ye yet! ye'll no be right. In shoals and nations. and sprattle. 229 To A Louse. There ye may creep. Owre gauze and lace. by Robert Burns An' God bless young Dunaskin's laird. A credit to his country. The blossom of our gentry! An' may he wear and auld man's beard. faith! I fear ye dine but sparely On sic a place. I canna say but ye strunt rarely. creepin.

My sooth! right bauld ye set your nose out. I dread. But Miss' fine Lunardi! fye! How daur ye do't? O Jeany. I'd gie you sic a hearty dose o't. red smeddum. As plump an' grey as ony groset: O for some rank. by Robert Burns The verra tapmost. On's wyliecoat. I wad na been surpris'd to spy You on an auld wife's flainen toy. Or aiblins some bit dubbie boy. Are notice takin. tow'rin height O' Miss' bonnet. An' set your beauties a' abread! Ye little ken what cursed speed The blastie's makin: Thae winks an' finger-ends. An' ev'n devotion! 230 . mercurial rozet. An' foolish notion: What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us. Wad dress your droddum. Or fell. dinna toss your head.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. O wad some Power the giftie gie us To see oursels as ithers see us! It wad frae mony a blunder free us.

" Again rejoicing Nature sees Her robe assume its vernal hues: Her leafy locks wave in the breeze. I'll bless her.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Thou flatt'ring mark of friendship kind. own I must. Tho' sweetly female ev'ry part. the beauteous donor. Yet such a head.—And maun I still on Menie doat. jet black. Chorus. All freshly steep'd in morning dews. Yet deviating. When she selected thee. And bear the scorn that's in her e'e? For it's jet. and more the heart Does both the sexes honour: She show'd her taste refin'd and just. Still may thy pages call to mind The dear. an' it's like a hawk. In vain to me the cowslips blaw. Song. by Robert Burns 231 Inscribed On A Work Of Hannah More's Presented to the Author by a Lady. an' wiss her A Friend aboon the lift. For sae approving me: But kind still I'll mind still The giver in the gift. An' it winna let a body be. Composed In Spring Tune—"Jockey's Grey Breeks. .

And o'er the moorlands whistles shill: Wi' wild. Come winter. 'tween light and dark. A dream of ane that never wauks. wand'ring step. &c. &c. The mavis and the lintwhite sing. by Robert Burns In vain to me the vi'lets spring. And maun I still. Thy gloom will soothe my cheerless soul. And maun I still. And maun I still. And ev'ry thing is blest but I. And maun I still. The wanton coot the water skims. And maun I still. A woe-worn ghaist I hameward glide.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. with thine angry howl. Blythe waukens by the daisy's side. I meet him on the dewy hill. &c. The merry ploughboy cheers his team. The stately swan majestic swims. Wi' joy the tentie seedsman stalks. When nature all is sad like me! And maun I still. bend the naked tree. &c. &c. unequal. And mounts and sings on flittering wings. The sheep-herd steeks his faulding slap. And when the lark. But life to me's a weary dream. Amang the reeds the ducklings cry. And raging. 232 . In vain to me in glen or shaw. &c.

alane. Thou's met me in an evil hour. There. Thou lifts thy unassuming head . humble birth. For I maun crush amang the stoure Thy slender stem: To spare thee now is past my pow'r. The bonie lark. 1786. Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet. Thou bonie gem. Thy snawie bosom sun-ward spread. On turning down with the Plough. Adorns the histie stibble field. companion meet. in thy scanty mantle clad. Cauld blew the bitter-biting north Upon thy early. Wee. by Robert Burns 233 To A Mountain Daisy. Alas! it's no thy neibor sweet. Scarce rear'd above the parent-earth Thy tender form. in April. Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth Amid the storm. Unseen.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. The flaunting flow'rs our gardens yield. beneath the random bield O' clod or stane. But thou. blythe. Wi' spreckl'd breast! When upward-springing. to greet The purpling east. modest crimson-tipped flow'r. High shelt'ring woods and wa's maun shield.

sink! Ev'n thou who mourn'st the Daisy's fate. But now the share uptears thy bed.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. That fate is thine—no distant date. is laid Low i' the dust. ruin'd. On life's rough ocean luckless starr'd! Unskilful he to note the card Of prudent lore. Full on thy bloom. Such is the fate of simple bard. And low thou lies! Such is the fate of artless maid. and gales blow hard. Till crush'd beneath the furrow's weight. He. Till she. like thee. Who long with wants and woes has striv'n. By human pride or cunning driv'n To mis'ry's brink. Shall be thy doom! 234 . Stern Ruin's plough-share drives elate. Sweet flow'ret of the rural shade! By love's simplicity betray'd. Till billows rage. Till wrench'd of ev'ry stay but Heav'n. And guileless trust. by Robert Burns Thou lifts thy unassuming head In humble guise. all soil'd. And whelm him o'er! Such fate to suffering worth is giv'n.

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Cold mould'ring in the clay? No fear more. and grasped. I court. afraid. To close this scene of care! When shall my soul. in silent peace. And sweet affection prove the spring of woe! Home. To stain my lifeless face. Oh! hear a wretch's pray'r! Nor more I shrink appall'd. While life a pleasure can afford. no tear more. Alas! how oft does goodness would itself. and pouring. Then low'ring. Resign life's joyless day— My weary heart is throbbing cease. and black'ning. Tho' thick'ning. Round my devoted head. The storm no more I dread. And thou grim Pow'r by life abhorr'd. Enclasped. I beg thy friendly aid. by Robert Burns For one has cut my dearest tie. Within thy cold embrace! 235 The Lament Occasioned by the unfortunate issue of a Friend's Amour. And quivers in my heart. O thou pale orb that silent shines While care-untroubled mortals sleep! .

Reflected in the gurgling rill: My fondly-fluttering heart. . The oft-attested pow'rs above. remembrance. How life and love are all a dream! I joyless view thy rays adorn The faintly-marked. Alas! how oft does goodness would itself. I joyless view thy trembling horn. quaint and tame. And sweet affection prove the spring of woe! Home. unwarming beam. love-lorn lamentings claim: No shepherd's pipe-Arcadian strains. No fabled tortures. poetic pains. the mutual flame. And wanders here to wail and weep! With woe I nightly vigils keep.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. be still! Thou busy pow'r. by Robert Burns 236 The Lament Occasioned by the unfortunate issue of a Friend's Amour. And mourn. cease! Ah! must the agonizing thrill For ever bar returning peace! No idly-feign'd. in lamentation deep. Beneath thy wan. O thou pale orb that silent shines While care-untroubled mortals sleep! Thou seest a wretch who inly pines. distant hill. The plighted faith. My sad.

Awakes me up to toil and woe. and her's alone! And. Your dear remembrance in my breast My fondly-treasur'd thoughts employ'd: That breast. ever lost? Oh! can she bear so base a heart. For her dear sake. These were the pledges of my love! Encircled in her clasping arms. That I must suffer. So lost to honour. lost to truth. who her pangs and pains will soothe Her sorrows share. And not a wish to gild the gloom! The morn. slow: 237 . must I think it! is she gone. I see the hours in long array. For her too scanty once of room! Ev'n ev'ry ray of hope destroy'd. How have the raptur'd moments flown! How have I wish'd for fortune's charms. My secret heart's exulting boast? And does she heedless hear my groan? And is she ever. that warns th' approaching day.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. how dreary now. The plighted husband of her youth? Alas! life's path may be unsmooth! Her way may lie thro' rough distress! Then. Enraptur'd more. and void. As from the fondest lover part. and make them less? Ye winged hours that o'er us pass'd. lingering. by Robert Burns The promis'd father's tender name. the more enjoy'd.

And when my nightly couch I try. fancy. fondly-wand'ring. were Phoebus. unheeded. While love's luxurious pulse beat high. with boundless sway Oft has thy silent-marking glance Observ'd us. again I burn! From ev'ry joy and pleasure torn. Life's weary vale I'll wander thro'. never. who o'er th' expanse Now highest reign'st. chief. by Robert Burns Full many a pang. and many a throe. never to return! Scenes. stray! The time. haggard—wild. I'll mourn A faithless woman's broken vow! 238 . Again I feel. comfortless. brings relief From such a horror-breathing night. Beneath thy silver-gleaming ray. Oh! scenes in strong remembrance set! Scenes. sped away. Shall kiss the distant western main. and tear-worn eye. Keep watchings with the nightly thief: Or if I slumber. if in stupor I forget. And hopeless.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. low. Reigns. Sore harass'd out with care and grief. My toil-beat nerves. Keen recollection's direful train. O thou bright queen. Must wring my soul. in sore affright: Ev'n day. all-bitter. To mark the mutual-kindling eye.

Must be my bitter doom. bustling. . a hope-abandon'd wight. a weary road. I set me down and sigh. Unfitted with an aim. No other view regard! Ev'n when the wished end's denied. by Robert Burns 239 Despondency: An Ode Oppress'd with grief. To wretches such as I! Dim backward as I cast my view. oppress'd with care. What sick'ning scenes appear! What sorrows yet may pierce me through. equal to the bustling strife. Who.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. I. and justling. My woes here shall close ne'er But with the closing tomb! Happy! ye sons of busy life. Yet while the busy means are plied. A burden more than I can bear. They bring their own reward: Whilst I. yet restless. despairing. Find ev'ry prospect vain. listless. Too justly I may fear! Still caring. Meet ev'ry sad returning night. O life! thou art a galling load. And joyless morn the same! You. Along a rough. Forget each grief and pain.

Within his humble cell. loves. Which I too keenly taste. and joys. enviable. and yet be blest! He needs not. 240 . to his ev'ning thought. wild with tangling roots. Sits o'er his newly gather'd fruits. The ways of men are distant brought. He views the solemn sky. and just to move. no lonely hermit plac'd Where never human footstep trac'd. Less fit to play the part. With self-respecting art: But ah! those pleasures. The lucky moment to improve. Can want. And just to stop. he heeds not. By unfrequented stream.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. all forgot. The cavern. Than I. meand'ring. Beside his crystal well! Or haply. Whilst I here must cry here At perfidy ingrate! O. When dancing thoughtless pleasure's maze. As wand'ring. A faint. all-forgetting. collected dream. and raising His thoughts to heav'n on high. Or human love or hate. The solitary can despise. While praising. early days. by Robert Burns How blest the solitary's lot. Who.

To feel the follies. Ye little know the ills ye court. But lest he learn the callan tricks— An' faith I muckle doubt him— Like scrapin out auld Crummie's nicks. 1786. or my own! Ye tiny elves that guiltless sport. May 3.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Recommending a Boy. my bounden duty To warn you how that Master Tootie. or the crimes. Was here to hire yon lad away 'Bout whom ye spak the tither day. . I'd have then Your clerkship he should sair.. Esq. by Robert Burns To care. Of others. Like linnets in the bush. the tears all. the crosses. As lieve then. The fears all. That active man engage. Laird M'Gaun. An' tellin lies about them. Mauchline. to guilt unknown! How ill exchang'd for riper times. sir. An' wad hae don't aff han'. I hold it. Alias. Of dim declining age! 241 To Gavin Hamilton. When manhood is your wish! The losses. Mossgaville.

In faith he's sure to get him. My word of honour I hae gi'en. In legal mode an' form: I ken he weel a snick can draw. When simple bodies let him: An' if a Devil be at a'. every quirk. To try to get the twa to gree. by Robert Burns If sae be ye may be Not fitted otherwhere. Ye ken your Laureat scorns: The pray'r still you share still Of grateful Minstrel Burns. An' 'bout a house that's rude an' rough. An' shore him weel wi' hell. I hae na ony fear. Altho' I say't.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. that night at e'en. 242 . To meet the warld's worm. he'll be sae taught. wi' you. In Paisley John's. Then please. sir. to lea'e. sir. But then. The boy might learn to swear. An' get sic fair example straught. Ye'll catechise him. The orders wi' your lady. An' gar him follow to the kirk— Aye when ye gang yoursel. To phrase you and praise you. If ye then maun be then Frae hame this comin' Friday. An' name the airles an' the fee. he's gleg enough.

my Mary. by Robert Burns 243 Versified Reply To An Invitation Sir. Yours. . And leave auld Scotia's shore? Will ye go to the Indies. My Mary? Tune—"Will ye go to the Ewe-Bughts. sir. Or hurl in a cartie. Monday night. my Mary. And the apple on the pine. I am as fou as Bartie: But Foorsday. Expect me o' your partie. Across th' Atlantic roar? O sweet grows the lime and the orange. Marion. If on a beastie I can speel." Will ye go to the Indies. But a' the charms o' the Indies Can never equal thine. my promise leal. I hae sworn by the Heavens to be true. Song—Will Ye Go To The Indies.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. And faith I'm gay and hearty! To tell the truth and shame the deil. Robert Burns. I hae sworn by the Heavens to my Mary. 10 o'clock. Mauchlin. Yours this moment I unseal.

When I forget my vow! O plight me your faith. Before I leave Scotia's strand. tho' e'er sae fair. O were yon hills and vallies mine. by Robert Burns And sae may the Heavens forget me. O Tune—"The deuks dang o'er my daddy. O. We hae plighted our troth." Nae gentle dames. . And I maun cross the raging sea! But while my crimson currents flow.—Within the glen sae bushy. I set me down wi' right guid will. And curst be the cause that shall part us! The hour and the moment o' time! 244 Song—My Highland Lassie. Shall ever be my muse's care: Their titles a' arc empty show. Gie me my Highland lassie. O. O. O. my Mary. Chorus. But fickle fortune frowns on me.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. O plight me your faith. my Mary. And plight me your lily-white hand. In mutual affection to join. Yon palace and yon gardens fine! The world then the love should know I bear my Highland Lassie. Aboon the plain sae rashy. my Mary. O. To sing my Highland lassie.

Altho' thro' foreign climes I range.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. O! To other lands I now must go. Tho' it should serve nae ither end Than just a kind memento: But how the subject-theme may gang. she has my hand. Let time and chance determine. That Indian wealth may lustre throw Around my Highland lassie. I'm thine. O. O. O! Farewell the plain sae rashy. O. For her I'll trace a distant shore. O. A something to have sent you. I Lang hae thought. For her I'll dare the billow's roar. my Highland lassie. 245 Epistle To A Young Friend May __. my youthfu' friend. by Robert Burns I'll love my Highland lassie. I know her heart will never change. Farewell the glen sae bushy. To sing my Highland lassie. For her bosom burns with honour's glow. 1786. My faithful Highland lassie. She has my heart. . O. Perhaps it may turn out a sang: Perhaps turn out a sermon. By secret troth and honour's band! Till the mortal stroke shall lay me low.

And a' your views may come to nought. I'll no say. When wi' a bosom crony. harden'd wicked. Their fate we shouldna censure. It's rarely right adjusted! Yet they wha fa' in fortune's strife. believe me. If self the wavering balance shake. Wha hae nae check but human law. th' important end of life They equally may answer. For still. Andrew dear. men are villains a'. Ye'll find mankind an unco squad. 246 . Are to a few restricked. aff-han'. A man may hae an honest heart. The real. Tho' poortith hourly stare him. But still keep something to yoursel'. my lad. by Robert Burns Ye'll try the world soon. your story tell. And muckle they may grieve ye: For care and trouble set your thought. Where ev'ry nerve is strained. And. Yet hae nae cash to spare him.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Ye scarcely tell to ony: Conceal yoursel' as weel's ye can Frae critical dissection. Aye free. A man may tak a neibor's part. An' little to be trusted. Ev'n when your end's attained. But. Och! mankind are unco weak.

But never tempt th' illicit rove. But. Not for to hide it in a hedge. by Robert Burns But keek thro' ev'ry other man. Tho' naething should divulge it: I waive the quantum o' the sin. And resolutely keep its laws. Uncaring consequences. And gather gear by ev'ry wile That's justified by honour. The great Creator to revere. Assiduous wait upon her. Och! it hardens a' within.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. But for the glorious privilege Of being independent. To haud the wretch in order. Luxuriantly indulge it. Wi' sharpen'd. Let that aye be your border. But where ye feel your honour grip. Nor for a train attendant. sly inspection. Its slightest touches. But still the preaching cant forbear. Must sure become the creature. The sacred lowe o' weel-plac'd love. The hazard of concealing. And petrifies the feeling! To catch dame Fortune's golden smile. The fear o' hell's a hangman's whip. instant pause— Debar a' side-pretences. And ev'n the rigid feature: 247 .

Covent Garden. fortitude.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Religion may be blinded. amiable youth! Your heart can ne'er be wanting! May prudence. President of the Right Honourable and Honourable the Highland Society. who. my Lord. Erect your brow undaunting! In ploughman phrase. were so audacious as to attempt an escape from their lawful lords and masters whose property they were. Be complaisance extended. Is sure a noble anchor! Adieu. which met on the 23rd of May last at the Shakespeare. in search of that fantastic thing—Liberty. But when on life we're tempest driv'n— A conscience but a canker— A correspondence fix'd wi' Heav'n. And may ye better reck the rede. "God send you speed. Then ever did th' adviser! 248 Address Of Beelzebub To the Right Honourable the Earl of Breadalbane. An atheist-laugh's a poor exchange For Deity offended! When ranting round in pleasure's ring. desperate beggar. M'Kenzie of Applecross. Or if she gie a random sting. Unskaithed by hunger'd Highland boors. dear. Macdonald of Glengary to the wilds of Canada. an' health be yours. Lord grant me nae duddie. Long life. and truth." Still daily to grow wiser. It may be little minded. by emigrating from the lands of Mr. . to concert ways and means to frustrate the designs of five hundred Highlanders. by Robert Burns Yet ne'er with wits profane to range. as the Society were informed by Mr.

I fear. grieves. and bailies. Your factors. an' be d-d! what right hae they To meat. or freedom. lead them. and rusty trigger. fearless. Than let them ance out owre the water. Till God knows what may be effected When by such heads and hearts directed. Or some Montgomery. my lord! Glengarry. May set their Highland bluid a-ranklin. nor sager Sackville. They'll mak what rules and laws they please: Some daring Hancocke.— An' whare will ye get Howes and Clintons To bring them to a right repentance— To cowe the rebel generation. hear! Your hand's owre light to them. Poor dunghill sons of dirt and mire May to Patrician rights aspire! Nae sage North now.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. But what your lordship likes to gie them? But hear. Some Washington again may head them. Then up among thae lakes and seas. An' save the honour o' the nation? They. trustees. claymore. pow'r. To watch and premier o'er the pack vile. or light o' day? Far less—to riches. by Robert Burns Wi' dirk. or sleep. May twin auld Scotland o' a life She likes—as butchers like a knife. 249 . or a Franklin. Faith you and Applecross were right To keep the Highland hounds in sight: I doubt na! they wad bid nae better.

Yet while they're only poind't and herriet. an' grey wi' beas'. They'll keep their stubborn Highland spirit: But smash them! crash them a' to spails. At my right han' assigned your seat. Beelzebub. Flaffin wi' duds. An' rot the dyvors i' the jails! The young dogs. The benmost neuk beside the ingle. by Robert Burns I canna say but they do gaylies. Wi' common lords ye shanna mingle. Between Almagro and Pizarro. An' till ye come—your humble servant. The langest thong. A seat. They lay aside a' tender mercies. Get out a horsewhip or a jowler.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. if they're aughtlins fawsont. swinge them to the labour. the fiercest growler. An' gar the tatter'd gypsies pack Wi' a' their bastards on their back! Go on. my Lord! I lang to meet you. An' tirl the hallions to the birses. 'Tween Herod's hip an' Polycrate: Or if you on your station tarrow. 250 . Let wark an' hunger mak them sober! The hizzies. Frightin away your ducks an' geese. I'm sure ye're well deservin't. An' in my house at hame to greet you. Let them in Drury-lane be lesson'd! An' if the wives an' dirty brats Come thiggin at your doors an' yetts.

For me! before a monarch's face Ev'n there I winna flatter. in the public papers. By mony a lord an' lady. Wad gar you trow ye ne'er do wrang. at your Levee On sic a day as this is. On reading. A humble poet wishes. On sic a day. the Statute blames with reason. I see ye're complimented thrang. with the other parade of June 4th. Is sure an uncouth sight to see. in his dreaming fancy. a venal gang. post. than he imagined himself transported to the Birth-day Levee: and. the Laureate's Ode. made the following Address: Guid-Mornin' to our Majesty! May Heaven augment your blisses On ev'ry new birth-day ye see. For neither pension. the Author was no sooner dropt asleep. "God save the King" 's a cuckoo sang That's unco easy said aye: The poets. Amang thae birth-day dresses Sae fine this day. 251 A Dream Thoughts. But aye unerring steady.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. too. My bardship here. . 5790. Wi' rhymes weel-turn'd an' ready. nor place. by Robert Burns June 1st. Anno Mundi. and deeds. But surely Dreams were ne'er indicted Treason. 1786. words.

But facts are chiels that winna ding. beneath your wing. my sire.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. And now the third part o' the string. There's mony waur been o' the race. my sovereign King. To rule this mighty nation: But faith! I muckle doubt. And now ye've gien auld Britain peace. Your Kingship to bespatter. Ye've trusted ministration To chaps wha in barn or byre Wad better fill'd their station Than courts yon day.^1 Far be't frae me that I aspire To blame your legislation. by Robert Burns Am I your humble debtor: So. ye wisdom want. Nae bargain wearin' faster. or fire. 'Tis very true. An' downa be disputed: Your royal nest. my life's a lease. Her broken shins to plaister. nae reflection on your Grace. Your sair taxation does her fleece. An' less. will gang aboot it Than did ae day. And aiblins ane been better Than you this day. My skill may weel be doubted. Or say. Is e'en right reft and clouted. Till she has scarce a tester: For me. thank God. 252 .

God-sake! let nae saving fit Abridge your bonie barges An'boats this day.] I'm no mistrusting Willie Pitt.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Still higher may they heeze ye In bliss. wi' due respect. I shortly boost to pasture I' the craft some day. Will ye accept a compliment. (An' Will's a true guid fallow's get. And gie her for dissection! But since I'm here. A simple poet gies ye? Thae bonie bairntime. But. may freedom geck Beneath your high protection. Heav'n has lent. Hail. An' may ye rax Corruption's neck. To pay your Queen. till fate some day is sent For ever to release ye 253 . Adieu. An' lessen a' your charges. my Liege. When taxes he enlarges. [Footnote 1: The American colonies had recently been lost. I'll no neglect. faith! I fear. Majesty most Excellent! While nobles strive to please ye. that. wi' the geese. That he intends to pay your debt. In loyal. May fealty an' subjection This great birth-day. A name not envy spairges). true affection. by Robert Burns Or.

That bears the keys of Peter. young Potentate o'Wales. Few better were or braver: And yet. I tell your highness fairly. him^2 at Agincourt wha shone. For a'their clish-ma-claver: There.^3 He was an unco shaver For mony a day. ye'll stain the mitre Some luckless day! Young. wi' swelling sails. I'm tauld ye're driving rarely. Then swith! an' get a wife to hug. royal Tarry-breeks. ye may doucely fill the throne. For you. Ye've lately come athwart her— 254 . To mak a noble aiver. I learn. wi' funny. right rev'rend Osnaburg. An' curse your folly sairly. That e'er ye brak Diana's pales. queer Sir John. by Robert Burns Frae care that day. Down Pleasure's stream. Or rattl'd dice wi' Charlie By night or day. Or trowth. Yet aft a ragged cowt's been known. But some day ye may gnaw your nails. For you. Nane sets the lawn-sleeve sweeter.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Altho' a ribbon at your lug Wad been a dress completer: As ye disown yon paughty dog. So.

] Gad bless you a'! consider now. An' gie you lads a-plenty! But sneer na British boys awa! For kings are unco scant aye. B. Weel rigg'd for Venus' barter. This was Prince William Henry. But ere the course o' life be through.—R. vid. Ye. Shakespeare. I trow.] [Footnote 4: Alluding to the newspaper account of a certain Royal sailor's amour. bonie blossoms a'. Come full that day. Then heave aboard your grapple airn.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. It may be bitter sautit: An' I hae seen their coggie fou.—R. Heav'n mak you guid as well as braw. Ye're unco muckle dautit. by Robert Burns A glorious galley. But first hang out. Your hymeneal charter. The laggen they hae clautit Fu' clean that day. that she'll discern. B.B. 255 . That yet hae tarrow't at it. third son of George III. [Footnote 2: King Henry V. An' German gentles are but sma'. They're better just than want aye On ony day. Ye royal lasses dainty.^4 stem and stern. afterward King William IV.] [Footnote 3: Sir John Falstaff. But or the day was done. An' large upon her quarter.—R. lastly.

some ill ane skelp him! He may do weel for a' he's done yet. An' sprung o' great an' noble bluid. sir. I winna lie. . Because ye're surnam'd like His Grace— Perhaps related to the race: Then. The Poet. come what will o' me). A fleechin. wi' them wha Maun please the great folk for a wamefou. sinfu' lie. I can beg. For fear your modesty be hurt. when I'm tir'd—and sae are ye. by Robert Burns 256 A Dedication To Gavin Hamilton. Esq. For me! sae laigh I need na bow. an' ca' you guid. Lord be thankit. And when I downa yoke a naig. Or else. Set up a face how I stop short. Lord be thankit. I can plough. To roose you up. some guid angel help him. For. in this narration. I fear. fleth'rin Dedication. The Patron (sir. This may do—maun do. But only—he's no just begun yet. Expect na. sir. ye maun forgie me. Sae I shall say—an' that's nae flatt'rin— It's just sic Poet an' sic Patron. On ev'ry hand it will allow'd be. Wi' mony a fulsome.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Then.

It's no thro' terror of damnation. That he's the poor man's friend in need. Till aft his guidness is abus'd. he winna break it. And rascals whiles that do him wrang. But then.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. He downa see a poor man want. Thy tens o' thousands thou hast slain! Vain is his hope. What ance he says. he winna tak it. landlord. As master. thou deadly bane. Wha never heard of orthodoxy. Nae godly symptom ye can ca' that. Or hunters wild on Ponotaxi. and justice! No—stretch a point to catch a plack: Abuse a brother to his back. Morality. whase stay an' trust is In moral mercy. sinfu' corrupt nature: Ye'll get the best o' moral works. 257 . truth. husband. father. He does na fail his part in either. I readily and freely grant. It's naething but a milder feature Of our poor. What's no his ain. Ought he can lend he'll no refus't. It's just a carnal inclination. by Robert Burns He's just—nae better than he should be. 'Mang black Gentoos. Ev'n that. The gentleman in word and deed. Steal through the winnock frae a whore. nae thanks to him for a'that. he does na mind it lang. and pagan Turks.

Still louder shrieks. Wi' weel-spread looves. My readers still are sure to lose me. When Vengeance draws the sword in wrath. To dedicate them. When a' my works I did review. lengthen'd groan. sir. an' lang. by Robert Burns But point the rake that taks the door. sir. Ye'll some day squeel in quaking terror. for this digression: I maist forgat my Dedication. Learn three-mile pray'rs. wry faces. I'll warrant they ye're nae deceiver. and heavier groans! Your pardon. When Ruin. A steady. Just frets till Heav'n commission gies him. sir. with his sweeping besom. you see 'twas nae daft vapour. So. to you: 258 . And strikes the ever-deep'ning tones. an' half-mile graces. staunch believer. And damn a' parties but your own.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. sturdy. Be to the poor like ony whunstane. Ply ev'ry art o' legal thieving. While o'er the harp pale Misery moans. No matter—stick to sound believing. And haud their noses to the grunstane. For gumlie dubs of your ain delvin! Ye sons of Heresy and Error. And in the fire throws the sheath. Grunt up a solemn. But when divinity comes 'cross me. But I maturely thought it proper. O ye wha leave the springs o' Calvin.

an' wretched ill o't. But I'se repeat each poor man's pray'r. I hae little skill o't. I'm baith dead-sweer. Till Hamiltons. To serve their king an' country weel. For that same gen'rous spirit smart! May Kennedy's far-honour'd name Lang beet his hymeneal flame. When ebbing life nae mair shall flow. curlie John's ier-oe.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Are frae their nuptial labours risen: Five bonie lasses round their table. Howl thro' the dwelling o' the clerk! May ne'er his genrous. at least a dizzen. And your petitioner shall ever— I had amaist said. or pointed steel! May health and peace. with mutual rays. The last. stout an' able. sir— "May ne'er Misfortune's gowling bark. By word. whilst your wishes and endeavours 259 . Till his wee. by Robert Burns Because (ye need na tak it ill). With complimentary effusion. For prayin. I thought them something like yoursel'. ever pray. Shine on the ev'ning o' his days. Then patronize them wi' your favor. And sev'n braw fellows. sad. honest heart. But that's a word I need na say. mournful rites bestow!" I will not wind a lang conclusion. But. or pen. That kens or hears about you.

sir. Attended. The victim sad of fortune's strife. And taste a swatch o' Manson's barrels I' the way of our profession. I am. For who would humbly serve the poor? But. While hopes. If friendless. Make you as poor a dog as I am. with zeal most fervent. by a poor man's hopes in Heav'n! While recollection's pow'r is giv'n— If. The Master and the Brotherhood . and black mischances. To hold our grand procession. in the vale of humble life. To get a blad o' Johnie's morals. in his grim advances. and pleasures fly him. and joys. we meet together. But if (which Pow'rs above prevent) That iron-hearted carl. Want. Then. by Robert Burns Are blest with Fortune's smiles and favours. your hand—my Friend and Brother! 260 Versified Note To Dr. Your humble servant then no more. Should recognise my master dear. By sad mistakes. Mauchline Friday first's the day appointed By the Right Worshipful anointed. low. I. humble servant. Mackenzie. dear sir.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. thro' the tender-gushing tear. Your much indebted.

That Saturday you'll fecht him. Tarbolton. For me I would be mair than proud To share the mercies wi' you. by Robert Burns Would a' be glad to see you. Which none but Craftsmen ever saw Strong Mem'ry on my heart shall write Those happy scenes. Dear brothers of the mystic tie! Ye favoured.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. festive night. then. I'll mind you still. tho' far awa. James' Lodge. Robert Burns. and joy be wi' you a'. enlighten'd few. An. With melting heart. 5790. Oft. wi' skaith. honour'd with supreme command. Inform him. M. and storm him. If Death. . when far awa. Tune—"Guidnight. Mossgiel. then. Tho' I to foreign lands must hie. Some mortal heart is hechtin. Presided o'er the sons of light: And by that hieroglyphic bright." Adieu! a heart-warm fond adieu. And spent the cheerful. Companions of my social joy. Pursuing Fortune's slidd'ry ba'. 261 The Farewell To the Brethren of St. and brimful eye. Oft have I met your social band.

An' owre the sea! Lament him a' ye rantin core. Harmony. by Robert Burns May Freedom. In social key. Come. Still rising by the plummet's law. That you may keep th' unerring line. the Bard that's far awa. and Love. The glorious Architect Divine. . farewell! whose merits claim Justly that highest badge to wear: Heav'n bless your honour'd noble name. One round. Gone To The West Indies A' ye wha live by sowps o' drink. 262 On A Scotch Bard. Nae mair he'll join the merry roar. Till Order bright completely shine. To Masonry and Scotia dear! A last request permit me here. Beneath th' Omniscient Eye above. Shall be my pray'r when far awa. A' ye wha live and never think. Wha dearly like a random splore. To him. mourn wi' me! Our billie 's gien us a' a jink. Unite you in the grand Design.— When yearly ye assemble a'.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. I ask it with a tear. A' ye wha live by crambo-clink. And you.

An' owre the sea. 'Twill mak her poor auld heart. 263 . independent stomach. saut tear. Wi' his proud. Ill may she be! So. 'Twad been nae plea. That's owre the sea! He saw Misfortune's cauld nor-west Lang mustering up a bitter blast. Could ill agree. That's owre the sea! Auld. wives. cantie Kyle may weepers wear.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. An' owre the sea! The bonie lasses weel may wiss him. they hae room to grumble! Hadst thou taen aff some drowsy bummle. took a berth afore the mast. An' stain them wi' the saut. I fear. an' a' may bless him Wi' tearfu' e'e. A jillet brak his heart at last. by Robert Burns For now he's taen anither shore. To tremble under Fortune's cummock. Wha can do nought but fyke an' fumble. But he was gleg as ony wumble. In flinders flee: He was her Laureat mony a year. For weel I wat they'll sairly miss him That's owre the sea! O Fortune. And in their dear petitions place him: The widows. On a scarce a bellyfu' o' drummock.

row't his hurdies in a hammock. Yet coin his pouches wad na bide in. Jamaica bodies. An' fou o' glee: He wad na wrang'd the vera deil." From thee. . Tho' owre the sea! 264 Song—Farewell To Eliza Tune—"Gilderoy. Wi' him it ne'er was under hiding. He ne'er was gien to great misguidin. That's owre the sea. Now bonilie! I'll toast you in my hindmost gillie. An' hap him in cozie biel: Ye'll find him aye a dainty chiel. by Robert Burns So. He dealt it free: The Muse was a' that he took pride in. That's owre the sea. Farewell. my rhyme-composing billie! Your native soil was right ill-willie.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Eliza. But may ye flourish like a lily. An' owre the sea. The cruel fates between us throw A boundless ocean's roar: But boundless oceans. use him weel. And from my native shore. roaring wide. I must go.

with a frater-feeling strong. And drap a tear. by Robert Burns Between my love and me. . Is there a man. whose judgment clear Can others teach the course to steer. himself. That weekly this area throng. The maid that I adore! A boding voice is in mine ear. While Death stands victor by. We part to meet no more! But the latest throb that leaves my heart. Here. owre hot for rule. is thy part. Owre blate to seek. Who. Yet runs. pass not by! But. And thine that latest sigh! 265 A Bard's Epitaph Is there a whim-inspired fool. O.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns.— That throb. And owre this grassy heap sing dool. Eliza dear. farewell. Owre fast for thought. Eliza. They never. life's mad career. Is there a bard of rustic song. steals the crowds among. noteless. owre proud to snool. never can divide My heart and soul from thee. Farewell. heave a sigh. Let him draw near.

But with such as he. self-control Is wisdom's root.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. And keenly felt the friendly glow. . by Robert Burns Wild as the wave. And stain'd his name! Reader. But thoughtless follies laid him low. attend! whether thy soul Soars fancy's flights beyond the pole. Survey this grave. Whom canting wretches blam'd. O stranger to the fame Of this much lov'd. Know thou. where'er he be. Esq. cautious. thro' the starting tear. In low pursuit: Know. Or darkling grubs this earthly hole. prudent. The poor inhabitant below Was quick to learn the wise to know. And softer flame. May I be sav'd or damn'd! 266 Epitaph On "Wee Johnie" Hic Jacet wee Johnie. Esq. Here pause—and. Epitaph For Gavin Hamilton. The poor man weeps—here Gavin sleeps. much honoured name! (For none that knew him need be told) A warmer heart death ne'er made cold. Epitaph For Robert Aiken.

The zephyr wanton'd round the bean. When roving thro' the garden gay. know That Death has murder'd Johnie. For saul he ne'er had ony. by Robert Burns Whoe'er thou art. Except where greenwood echoes rang.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. And sweet is night in autumn mild. My heart rejoic'd in nature's joy. nature's darling child! . 267 The Lass O' Ballochmyle Tune—"Ettrick Banks. When. All nature list'ning seem'd the while. passing by. With careless step I onward stray'd. And bore its fragrant sweets alang: In ev'ry glen the mavis sang. An' here his body lies fu' low. Amang the braes o' Ballochmyle." 'Twas even—the dewy fields were green. Or wand'ring in the lonely wild: But woman. "Behold the lass o' Ballochmyle!" Fair is the morn in flowery May. Her air like nature's vernal smile: Perfection whisper'd. O reader. On every blade the pearls hang. musing in a lonely glade. A maiden fair I chanc'd to spy: Her look was like the morning's eye.

Friendship! 'tis all cold duty now allows. burns in flaming torrid climes. And thirst of gold might tempt the deep. 268 Lines To An Old Sweetheart Once fondly lov'd. Accept this mark of friendship. by Robert Burns There all her charms she does compile. And nightly to my bosom strain The bonie lass o' Ballochmyle. Even there her other works are foil'd By the bonie lass o' Ballochmyle. O. And when you read the simple artless rhymes. Where frame and honours lofty shine. Then pride might climb the slipp'ry steep. Or downward seek the Indian mine: Give me the cot below the pine. With joy. . distant. Who.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. One friendly sigh for him—he asks no more. sincere. I would toil. And ev'ry day have joys divine With the bonie lass o' Ballochmyle. Sweet early object of my youthful vows. and still remember'd dear. Tho' shelter'd in the lowest shed That ever rose on Scotland's plain! Thro' weary winter's wind and rain. And I the happy country swain. To tend the flocks or till the soil. with rapture. had she been a country maid. warm.

unbroke by rules of art. . And ony deil that thinks to get you. He pours the wild effusions of the heart. and her's the kindling fire. John Kennedy Farewell. May nane believe him. Her's all the melting thrill. Lines To Mr. And for thy potence vainly wished. And 'mang her favourites admit you: If e'er Detraction shore to smit you. 269 Motto Prefixed To The Author's First Publication The simple Bard. through thy curst restriction: I've seen the oppressor's cruel smile Amid his hapless victim's spoil. thou cursed leaf! Fell source o' a' my woe and grief! For lack o' thee I've lost my lass! For lack o' thee I scrimp my glass! I see the children of affliction Unaided.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. dear friend! may guid luck hit you. Good Lord. And if inspir'd 'tis Nature's pow'rs inspire. by Robert Burns Or haply lies beneath th' Atlantic roar. deceive him! Lines Written On A Banknote Wae worth thy power.

R. The lover may sparkle and glow. Never. To you. But every good fellow will own Their quarrel is a' about—naething. Esq. I honestly answer you—naething. when the balance is cast. Some quarrel the Presbyter gown. 270 Stanzas On Naething Extempore Epistle to Gavin Hamilton. While people of every degree Are busy employed about—naething. The courtier cringes and bows. For idly just living and breathing. And what is a coronet-naething.B. But if you demand what I want. Pray. Ambition has likewise its plaything. . He'll find. A coronet beams on his brows. And grumble his hurdies their claithing. Ne'er scorn a poor Poet like me. by Robert Burns To crush the villain in the dust: For lack o' thee.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Some quarrel Episcopal graithing. to greet old Scotland more. perhaps. He's gane to the devil for-naething. this summons I've sent. I leave this much-lov'd shore. Poor Centum-per-centum may fast. sir. whip till the pownie is freathing.

But collar him fast. The Poet may jingle and rhyme. And when he has wasted his time. But what is a watery grave? The drowning a Poet is naething. And swagger and swear like a heathen. And now. To you. sir. The thundering bully may rage. I taught her. Her fingers I lovingly squeezed. He's kindly rewarded wi'—naething. And kissed her. 271 . by Robert Burns Approaching his bonie bit gay thing: But marriage will soon let him know He's gotten—a buskit up naething. And now I must mount on the wave— My voyage perhaps there is death in. her terrors were naething. I'll engage. But soon we grew lovingly big. But charmingly tickled wi' ae thing. My service as long as ye've ought. I make this bequeathing. Her whigship was wonderful pleased.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Last night wi' a feminine whig— A Poet she couldna put faith in. sir. that we're baith in. The priest anathemas may threat— Predicament. In hopes of a laureate wreathing. as grim death's in my thought. and promised her—naething. You'll find that his courage is—naething. The holy artillery's naething. But when honour's reveille is beat.

when ye've naething. My part in him thou'lt share! Adieu. to the lov'd tender fair. My Smith. a mother's blessing dear! A borther's sigh! a sister's tear! My Jean's heart-rending throe! Farewell. 272 The Farewell The valiant. what can he suffer? Or what does he regard his single woes? But when. Far dearer than the torrid plains. by Robert Burns And my friendship. in himself. such am I!—undone! Thomson's Edward and Eleanora. whose beings hang upon him. Farewell. by God. To those whose bliss. To helpless children. to you too. my bosom frien'. old Scotia's bleak domains. Oh then. When kindly you mind me. . Where rich ananas blow! Farewell. And weakly weeps his fortunes like a coward: Such.—then. A faithful brother I have left.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. too. alas! he multiplies himself. To dearer serves. my Bess! tho' thou'rt bereft Of my paternal care. he feels The point of misery festering in his heart.

And points to ruin and disgrace. sir! your text I'll prove it true. But. As bless you wi' a kirk. Tho' heretics may laugh. iv. with a much-indebted tear. weeping. And should some patron be so kind. Shall still remember you! All hail then. I for thy sake must go! Thee. and whistles I'll never see thee more! 273 The Calf To the Rev.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. For instance. James Steven. "And ye shall go forth. . answ'rest—"No!" Alas! misfortune stares my face. dear shore! It rustles. Hamilton. an unco calf. vers." Right. there's yourself just now. God knows. must I part! Thou. and Aiken dear. if the lover's raptur'd hour. by Robert Burns O then befriend my Jean! What bursting anguish tears my heart. I doubt na. my Jeany. Malachi. ch. From thee. and grow up. warm adieu: I. A grateful. Shall ever be your lot. on his text. as Calves of the stall. Wafts me from thee. 2. sir but then we'll find. Ye're still as great a stirk. the gale then.

And when ye're number'd wi' the dead. To hear you roar and rowt. Great Nature spoke. Let other heroes boast their scars. The plagues of human life: Shame fa' the fun. wi' sword and gun To slap mankind like lumber! I sing his name. Great Nature spoke: observant man obey'd—Pope. most reverend James. Few men o' sense will doubt your claims To rank amang the nowt. . by Robert Burns Forbid it. Wha multiplies our number. with air benign. "Go on. With justice they may mark your head— "Here lies a famous bullock!" 274 Nature's Law—A Poem Humbly inscribed to Gavin Hamilton. And. and nobler fame. Below a grassy hillock. The marks of sturt and strife: And other poets sing of wars. The like has been that you may wear A noble head of horns. ye human race.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Esq. in your lug. ev'ry heavenly Power. You e'er should be a stot! Tho' when some kind connubial dear Your but—and—ben adorns.

he never sought To stem the sacred torrent. A lowly bard was he. vital. With future rhymes. Be fruitful and increase. Who sung his rhymes in Coila's plains. thro' and thro'.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. of the flaming current. 275 . does Mankind stand. To emulate his sire: To sing auld Coil in nobler style With more poetic fire. To give obedience due: Propitious Powers screen'd the young flow'rs. by Robert Burns This lower world I you resign. Here. an' other times. The liquid fire of strong desire I've pour'd it in each bosom. The third of Libra's equal sway. all devout. And sought a correspondent breast. high behest Thrill. And there is Beauty's blossom. As annual it returns. And low! the bard—a great reward— Has got a double portion! Auld cantie Coil may count the day. That gave another Burns. With meikle mirth an'glee. Kind Nature's care had given his share Large. on this had." The Hero of these artless strains. He felt the powerful. And. From mildews of abortion.

Auld Truth hersel' might swear yer'e fair. I am nae stranger to your fame. and wrote as follows:— Wi' braw new branks in mickle pride. and off he sets. asked me to write a poetic epistle to a young lady. and peaceful song. Lang may she stand to prop the land. Tho' wair'd on Willie Chalmers. but was scarcely acquainted with her.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. And faith ye'll no be lost a whit. Whiles owre a bush wi' donwward crush. His honest heart enamours. To endless generations! 276 Song—Willie Chalmers Mr. I had seen her. My Pegasus I'm got astride. Chalmers. I doubt na. his Dulcinea. a gentleman in Ayrshire. large and long. by Robert Burns Ye Powers of peace. And eke a braw new brechan. And up Parnassus pechin. Then up he gets. With multiplying joys. Nor his warm urged wishes. Look down with gracious eyes. a particular friend of mine. Your bonie face sae mild and sweet. . lass. And Burnses spring. And bless auld Coila. that weel ken'd name May cost a pair o' blushes. For sake o' Willie Chalmers. her fame to sing. The doited beastie stammers. The flow'r of ancient nations.

by Robert Burns And Honour safely back her. glowrin' countra laird May warsle for your favour. May powers aboon unite you soon. Forgive the Bard! my fond regard For ane that shares my bosom. And fructify your amours. Some gapin'. Seek Heaven for help. before ye wed Sic clumsy-witted hammers.— And every year come in mair dear 277 . And band upon his breastie: But oh! what signifies to you His lexicons and grammars. and straik his beard. And Modesty assume your air.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. And that's wi' Willie Chalmers. and barefit skelp Awa wi' Willie Chalmers. And ne'er a ane mistak her: And sic twa love-inspiring een Might fire even holy palmers. I doubt na fortune may you shore Some mim-mou'd pouther'd priestie. Nae wonder then they've fatal been To honest Willie Chalmers. May claw his lug. The feeling heart's the royal blue. Fu' lifted up wi' Hebrew lore. Inspires my Muse to gie 'm his dues For deil a hair I roose him. And hoast up some palaver: My bonie maid.

fegs! the session says I maun . I gie their wames a random pouse. An' jag-the-flea! King David. o' poetic brief. 278 Reply To A Trimming Epistle Received From A Tailor What ails ye now. At Davie's hip yet! But. I'll gie auld cloven's Clootie's haunts An unco slip yet. when I grow crouse. An' bluidy rants. An' yet he's rank'd amang the chief O' lang-syne saunts. man! hae mercy wi' your natch.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. What tho' at times. by Robert Burns To you and Willie Chalmers. I didna suffer half sae much Frae Daddie Auld. Your bodkin's bauld. An' snugly sit amang the saunts. And maybe. My wicked rhymes. Tam. Is that enough for you to souse Your servant sae? Gae mind your seam. ye prick-the-louse. an' drucken rants. ye lousie bitch To thresh my back at sic a pitch? Losh. Wrocht 'mang the lasses sic mischief As filled his after-life wi' grief. for a' my cants.

and answer for't. Cried three times. An' snoov'd awa before the Session: I made an open. An' said my faut frae bliss expell'd me. An' sairly thole their mother's ban Afore the howdy.) I'm no for that. at the inner port. by Robert Burns Gae fa' upo' anither plan Than garrin lasses coup the cran. na. beyond expression. "Robin! Come hither lad. You should remember To cut it aff—an' what for no Your dearest member?" "Na. An' syne Mess John. A fornicator-loun he call'd me.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Ye're blam'd for jobbin!" Wi' pinch I put a Sunday's face on. 279 . leg or toe Should ever prove your sp'ritual foe. I'll ne'er be better!" "Geld you! (quo' he) an' what for no? If that your right hand. Auld Clinkum. "But. This leads me on to tell for sport. fair confession— I scorn't to lee. what the matter? (Quo' I) I fear unless ye geld me. How I did wi' the Session sort. Fell foul o' me. Clean heels ower body. (quo' I. I own'd the tale was true he tell'd me.

I'd rather suffer for my faut A hearty flewit. Or deep-ton'd plovers grey. Ayr. sir. The soaring lark. when that I saw. . "Or. Esq. in the green thorn bush. Whate'er betide it. gin ye like to end the bother. by Robert Burns Gelding's nae better than 'tis ca't. Tam. this pleas'd them warst of a'. or the mellow thrush. 280 The Brigs Of Ayr A Poem Inscribed to John Ballantine. Learning his tuneful trade from ev'ry bough. Shall he—nurst in the peasant's lowly shed. As sair owre hip as ye can draw't. I said "Gude night. Tho' I should rue it. Hailing the setting sun. An' therefore. I saw they were resolved a' On my oppression. To please us a'—I've just ae ither— When next wi' yon lass I forgather. rough at the rustic plough.. sweet. An' let her guide it. I'll frankly gie her 't a' thegither." But. the perching red-breast shrill.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. wild-whistling o'er the hill." an' cam' awa'. The simple Bard. An' left the Session. The chanting linnet.

Unnumber'd buds an' flow'rs' delicious spoils. bound by Nature's tie. if some patron's gen'rous care he trace. Fame. reeling. The bees. The death o' devils. And train'd to arms in stern Misfortune's field— Shall he be guilty of their hireling crimes. Potatoe-bings are snugged up frae skaith O' coming Winter's biting.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. He glows with all the spirit of the Bard. Seal'd up with frugal care in massive waxen piles. With heartfelt throes his grateful bosom swells. When Ballantine befriends his humble name. scatter wide. honest fame. 'Twas when the stacks get on their winter hap. to bestow with grace. by Robert Burns To hardy independence bravely bred. in one carnage lie: 281 . rejoicing o'er their summer toils. The godlike bliss. And thack and rape secure the toil-won crap. The feather'd field-mates. that tyrant o'er the weak. By early poverty to hardship steel'd. mothers. The servile. Skill'd in the secret. children. his dear reward. And hands the rustic stranger up to fame. And throws his hand uncouthly o'er the strings. frosty breath. Still. smoor'd wi' brimstone reek: The thundering guns are heard on ev'ry side. Sires. The wounded coveys. his great. With all the venal soul of dedicating prose? No! though his artless strains he rudely sings. mercenary Swiss of rhymes? Or labour hard the panegyric close. to give. Are doom'd by Man. alone excels.

He left his bed. Two dusky forms dart through the midnight air.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. with sullen-sounding roar. Except perhaps the Robin's whistling glee. and took his wayward route. He wander'd out. And down by Simpson's^1 wheel'd the left about: (Whether impell'd by all-directing Fate. By whim inspir'd. Nae mair the grove with airy concert rings. Proud o' the height o' some bit half-lang tree: The hoary morns precede the sunny days. The chilly frost. Unknown and poor—simplicity's reward!— Ae night. within the ancient brugh of Ayr. 282 . he knew not where or why:) The drowsy Dungeon-clock^2 had number'd two. beneath the silver beam. when a simple Bard. lo! on either hand the list'ning Bard. poetic heart but inly bleeds. o'er the glittering stream— When. by Robert Burns (What warm. While thick the gosamour waves wanton in the rays. serene. gently-crusting. calm. and Wallace Tower^2 had sworn the fact was true: The tide-swoln firth. Through the still night dash'd hoarse along the shore. ruthless deeds!) Nae mair the flow'r in field or meadow springs. Crept. Or whether. rapt in meditation high. The silent moon shone high o'er tower and tree. The clanging sugh of whistling wings is heard. or haply prest wi' care. All else was hush'd as Nature's closed e'e. 'Twas in that season. Mild. wide spreads the noontide blaze. To witness what I after shall narrate. And execrates man's savage.

B. The very wrinkles Gothic in his face. B. Kelpies. teughly doure. Wi' virls and whirlygigums at the head.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. And ken the lingo of the sp'ritual folk. He.] New Brig was buskit in a braw new coat. Ane on th' Auld Brig his airy shape uprears. Fays. That he. or Falcon. It chanc'd his new-come neibor took his e'e. Yet. (That Bards are second-sighted is nae joke. gies him this guid-e'en:— Auld Brig "I doubt na. ye'll think ye're nae sheepshank. The Goth was stalking round with anxious search. he bade an unco bang. And even the very deils they brawly ken them). B.—R. down the water. a'. they can explain them.] [Footnote 2: The two steeples.] [Footnote 3: The Gos-hawk. Spying the time-worn flaws in every arch.—R. He seem'd as he wi' Time had warstl'd lang. The other flutters o'er the rising piers: Our warlock Rhymer instantly dexcried The Sprites that owre the Brigs of Ayr preside. In 's hand five taper staves as smooth 's a bead. Spunkies.—R. frien'. Auld Brig appear'd of ancient Pictish race. [Footnote 1: A noted tavern at the Auld Brig end. frae ane Adams got. Ance ye were streekit owre frae bank to bank! But gin ye be a brig as auld as me— 283 . And e'en a vexed and angry heart had he! Wi' thieveless sneer to see his modish mien. by Robert Burns Swift as the gos^3 drives on the wheeling hare. at Lon'on.

When heavy. Compare wi' bonie brigs o' modern time? There's men of taste wou'd tak the Ducat stream. continued. just above the Auld Brig.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. But twa—three winters will inform ye better. Aroused by blustering winds an' spotting thowes. formless bulk o' stane and lime. Where twa wheel-barrows tremble when they meet. Your ruin'd. that date. [Footnote 4: A noted ford." New Brig "Auld Vandal! ye but show your little mense. I doubt. Just much about it wi' your scanty sense: Will your poor. When from the hills where springs the brawling Coil. Or where the Greenock winds his moorland course. dark. B. And tho' wi' crazy eild I'm sair forfairn. 284 . if that day come. a'-day rains. In mony a torrent down the snaw-broo rowes. by Robert Burns Tho' faith. Gothic hulk as you.—R. I'll wad a boddle. narrow foot-path of a street. Or haunted Garpal draws his feeble source.] Wi' deepening deluges o'erflow the plains. I'll be a brig when ye're a shapeless cairn! As yet ye little ken about the matter. ye'll never see— There'll be. Some fewer whigmaleeries in your noddle.^4 Tho' they should cast the very sark and swim." Auld Brig "Conceited gowk! puff'd up wi' windy pride! This mony a year I've stood the flood an' tide. Or stately Lugar's mossy fountains boil. E'er they would grate their feelings wi' the view O' sic an ugly.

or taste unblest. Supporting roofs. And still the second dread command be free. Windows and doors in nameless sculptures drest With order. wha held the notion. And soon may they expire. like precipices.^6 Auld Ayr is just one lengthen'd. an' mills. borne on the rolling spate. by Robert Burns While crashing ice. Forms might be worshipp'd on the bended knee. The craz'd creations of misguided whim. Or frosty maids forsworn the dear embrace. to your cost. trowth. bird or beast: Fit only for a doited monkish race. That Architecture's noble art is lost!" New Brig "Fine architecture. fantastic. (deil nor ye never rise!) And dash the gumlie jaups up to the pouring skies! A lesson sadly teaching. ghastly.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. unblest wi' resurrection!" 285 . tumbling sea— Then down ye'll hurl. in air. ghaist-alluring edifices. Or cuifs of later times. gloom-inspiring coves. O'er-arching. Forms like some bedlam Statuary's dream. or sea! Mansions that would disgrace the building taste Of any mason reptile. Their likeness is not found on earth. Hanging with threat'ning jut. a' to the gate. symmetry. That sullen gloom was sterling. an' brigs. And from Glenbuck. Sweeps dams. mouldy. true devotion: Fancies that our guid Brugh denies protection. The Lord be thankit that we've tint the gate o't! Gaunt. I needs must say't o't. stony groves.^5 down to the Ratton-key.

wha hae blest this town. curse the time and place When ye begat the base degen'rate race! Nae langer rev'rend men. ancient yealings. 286 . ye godly Brethren o' the sacred gown. And (what would now be strange).] [Footnote 6: A small landing place above the large quay. Meet owre a pint. B. what would ye say or do? How would your spirits groan in deep vexation. Nae langer thrifty citizens. Wha in the paths o' righteousness did toil aye. And muckle mair than ye can mak to through. Men. Wha meekly gie your hurdies to the smiters. my dear-remember'd. an' douce. by Robert Burns [Footnote 5: The source of the River Ayr. ye godly Writers. their country's glory. B. To see each melancholy alteration. Wha waste your weel-hain'd gear on damn'd new brigs and harbours!" New Brig "Now haud you there! for faith ye've said enough. three-parts made by tailors and by barbers. an' mony a Bailie.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. graceless Gentry. and ye douce Conveners. The herryment and ruin of the country. Were ye but here.] Auld Brig "O ye. agonising.—R. Ye dainty Deacons. or in the Council-house. corky-headed.—R. But staumrel. Were ye but here to share my wounded feelings! Ye worthy Proveses. In plain braid Scots hold forth a plain braid story. A' ye douce folk I've borne aboon the broo. And. To whom our moderns are but causey-cleaners Ye godly Councils.

A fairy train appear'd in order bright. on a random tramp. To liken them to your auld-warld squad. Adown the glittering stream they featly danc'd. by Robert Burns As for your Priesthood. Nae mair the Council waddles down the street. comparisons are odd. Bright to the moon their various dresses glanc'd: They footed o'er the wat'ry glass so neat. When thro' his dear strathspeys they bore with Highland rage. 287 . O had M'Lauchlan. Had shor'd them with a glimmer of his lamp. but. No man can tell.' a term o' scandal. if Sprites had blood to shed. Or gather'd lib'ral views in Bonds and Seisins: If haply Knowledge. And soul-ennobling Bards heroic ditties sung. Abuse o' Magistrates might weel be spar'd. under favour o' your langer beard. What bloody wars. dull Stupidity stept kindly in to aid them. all before their sight. Been there to hear this heavenly band engage. In all the pomp of ignorant conceit. I must needs say. Plain. Men wha grew wise priggin owre hops and raisins." What farther clish-ma-claver aight been said. wag-wits nae mair can hae a handle To mouth 'a Citizen. And would to Common-sense for once betray'd them.^7 thairm-inspiring sage. Or when they struck old Scotia's melting airs.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. I shall say but little. The infant ice scarce bent beneath their feet: While arts of Minstrelsy among them rung. In Ayr. Corbies and Clergy are a shot right kittle: But.

benignant air. came Rural Joy. While simple melody pour'd moving on the heart.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns.—R. From simple Catrine. came from the tow'rs of Stair.] All-cheering Plenty. their long-lov'd abode:^10 Last. To rustic Agriculture did bequeath The broken. A female form. And ev'n his matchless hand with finer touch inspir'd! No guess could tell what instrument appear'd. A venerable Chief advanc'd in years.^9 Learning and Worth in equal measures trode. by Robert Burns The lover's raptured joys or bleeding cares. with his fervid-beaming eye. His hoary head with water-lilies crown'd. white-rob'd Peace. crown'd with a hazel wreath. [Footnote 7: A well-known performer of Scottish music on the violin. Sweet female Beauty hand in hand with Spring. Harmonious concert rung in every part. His manly leg with garter-tangle bound. with mild. How would his Highland lug been nobler fir'd. with her flowing horn. But all the soul of Music's self was heard. From where the Feal wild-woody coverts hide. Then Winter's time-bleach'd locks did hoary show. iron instruments of death: 288 . Then.^8 Benevolence. And Summer. The Genius of the Stream in front appears. Led yellow Autumn wreath'd with nodding corn. crown'd with flow'ry hay. By Hospitality with cloudless brow: Next followed Courage with his martial stride. Next came the loveliest pair in all the ring. B.

The mavis sang.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. [Footnote 8: A compliment to the Montgomeries of Coilsfield. 289 Fragment Of Song The night was still. And aye the o'erword o' the spring Was "Irvine's bairns are bonie a'.] [Footnote 9: Mrs. Stewart of Stair. a tributary of the Ayr. an early patroness of the poet. by Robert Burns At sight of whom our Sprites forgat their kindling wrath. Unless they mend their ways. on the Feal or Faile.] [Footnote 10: The house of Professor Dugald Stewart. while dew-drops hang Around her on the castle wa'.] . Sae merrily they danced the ring Frae eenin' till the cock did craw. and o'er the hill The moon shone on the castle wa'." Epigram On Rough Roads I'm now arrived—thanks to the gods!— Thro' pathways rough and muddy. I'm sure the Bible says That heedless sinners shall be damn'd. A certain sign that makin roads Is no this people's study: Altho' Im not wi' Scripture cram'd.

In manhood's dawning blush. And show what good men are. O'er Life's rough ocean driven. the author left the following verses in the room where he slept:— O Thou dread Power. they reach that coast. The hoary Sire—the mortal stroke. Up to a parent's wish. their stay.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. no wand'rer lost. their darling youth. Bless him. May they rejoice. A family in Heaven! . by Robert Burns 290 Prayer—O Thou Dread Power Lying at a reverend friend's house one night. soon or late. Thou God of love and truth. who reign'st above. The beauteous. When for this scene of peace and love. I make this prayer sincere. seraph sister-band— With earnest tears I pray— Thou know'st the snares on ev'ry hand. who her lovely offspring eyes With tender hopes and fears. long be pleas'd to spare. But spare a mother's tears! Their hope. To bless this little filial flock. Long. O bless her with a mother's joys. I know thou wilt me hear. She. When. Guide Thou their steps alway.

The Autumn mourns her rip'ning corn By early Winter's ravage torn." "I composed this song as I conveyed my chest so far on my road to Greenock. where I was to embark in a few days for Jamaica. The gloomy night is gath'ring fast. I meant it as my farewell dirge to my native land. 'Tis not that fatal. Yon murky cloud is foul with rain. The scatt'red coveys meet secure. 'Tis not the surging billow's roar. Along the lonely banks of Ayr. Far from the bonie banks of Ayr. Across her placid. deadly shore. I see it driving o'er the plain.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Farewell. To leave the bonie banks of Ayr. Tho' death in ev'ry shape appear. . She sees the scowling tempest fly: Chill runs my blood to hear it rave. These bleed afresh. by Robert Burns 291 Farewell Song To The Banks Of Ayr Tune—"Roslin Castle. Where many a danger I must dare. Her healthy moors and winding vales. I think upon the stormy wave. azure sky. While here I wander. inconstant blast. those ties I tear. Loud roars the wild. The wretched have no more to fear: But round my heart the ties are bound. prest with care. B."—R. The hunter now has left the moor. old Coila's hills and dales. That heart transpierc'd with many a wound.

or argues freezes. But thee—thou hell o' a' diseases— Aye mocks our groan. Pursuing past. Wi' gnawing vengeance. Wi' pitying moan. That shoots my tortur'd gums alang. daft bargains. my love with those: The bursting tears my heart declare— Farewell. An' thro' my lug gies mony a twang. or colics squeezes.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. unhappy loves! Farewell. . the bonie banks of Ayr! 292 Address To The Toothache My curse upon your venom'd stang. Tearing my nerves wi' bitter pang. by Robert Burns The scenes where wretched Fancy roves. Like racking engines! When fevers burn. cutty stools. I wish a heckle Were in their doup! In a' the numerous human dools. raving mad. Ill hairsts. While. my friends! farewell. my foes! My peace with these. While round the fire the giglets keckle. Rheumatics gnaw. Adown my beard the slavers trickle I throw the wee stools o'er the mickle. To see me loup. Our neibor's sympathy can ease us.

I dinner'd wi' a Lord. Sae far I sprackl'd up the brae. Toothache. Thou. alias Burns. Amang them a'! O thou grim. October twenty-third. Nay. or fash o'fools. In dreadfu' raw. I.— Sad sight to see! The tricks o' knaves.] A ne'er-to-be-forgotten day. That gars the notes o' discord squeel.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. [Footnote 1: At the house of Professor Dugald Stewart. Where a' the tones o' misery yell. I've been at drucken writers' feasts. An' ranked plagues their numbers tell. been bitch-fou 'mang godly priests— Wi' rev'rence be it spoken!— . by Robert Burns Or worthy frien's rak'd i' the mools. Till daft mankind aft dance a reel In gore. Rhymer Robin. surely bear'st the bell. Thou bear'st the gree! Where'er that place be priests ca' hell. Gie a' the faes o' Scotland's weal A townmond's toothache! 293 Lines On Meeting With Lord Daer^1 This wot ye all whom it concerns. mischief-making chiel. a shoe-thick.

But wi' a Lord!—stand out my shin. I watch'd the symptoms o' the Great.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Then from his Lordship I shall learn. The arrogant assuming. An' (what surpris'd me) modesty. nor state. 294 . When mighty Squireships of the quorum. Nor sauce. A Lord—a Peer—an Earl's son! Up higher yet. Except good sense and social glee. Henceforth to meet with unconcern One rank as weel's another. He in the parlour hammer'd. Mair than an honest ploughman. Our Peerage he o'erlooks them a'. An' at his Lordship steal't a look. Their hydra drouth did sloken. The fient a pride. When. as if led wi' branks. nae pride had he. I sidying shelter'd in a nook. The gentle pride. by Robert Burns I've even join'd the honour'd jorum. As I look o'er my sonnet. my bonnet An' sic a Lord!—lang Scoth ells twa. I marked nought uncommon. But O for Hogarth's magic pow'r! To show Sir Bardie's willyart glow'r. An' stumpin on his ploughman shanks. goavin. Like some portentous omen. An' how he star'd and stammer'd. the lordly state. that I could see.

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. When this worthy old sportman went out. On this hint the author composed his elegy and epitaph. he supposed it was to be. assembled by Willie." Ye sons of old Killie. To follow the noble vocation. may wayward Contention Or withered Envy ne'er enter. worthy man need care To meet with noble youthful Daer. As praying's the ton of your fashion. but only to pray." or "Over the water to Charlie. Your thrifty old mother has scarce such another To sit in that honoured station. For he but meets a brother." and expressed an ardent wish to die and be buried in the muirs. in Ossian's phrase.. last muirfowl season. Ye powers who preside o'er the wind. Whose sovereign statute is order:— Within this dear mansion. "the last of his fields. Who formed this frame with beneficent aim. 1787. May secrecy round be the mystical bound. .—R. A prayer from thee Muse you well may excuse 'Tis seldom her favourite passion. 295 Masonic Song Tune—"Shawn-boy.B. Who marked each element's border. and the tide. by Robert Burns Nae honest. I've little to say. And brotherly Love be the centre! Tam Samson's Elegy An honest man's the noblest work of God—Pope.

an' sab. To preach an' read? "Na' waur than a'!" cries ilka chiel. an' wean. B. While by their nose the tears will revel. man. "Tam Samson's dead!" [Footnote 1: A certain preacher. An' cleed her bairns. wife. who was at that time ailing. by Robert Burns Has auld Kilmarnock seen the deil? Or great Mackinlay^1 thrawn his heel? Or Robertson^2 again grown weel. Wha will they station at the cock? Tam Samson's dead! When Winter muffles up his cloak.] Kilmarnock lang may grunt an' grane. Wi' gleesome speed. o' the mystic level May hing their head in woefu' bevel. an' greet her lane. Vide "The Ordination. Death's gien the Lodge an unco devel. For him see also "The Ordination. When to the loughs the curlers flock. In mourning weed. Tam Samson's dead! When Winter muffles up his cloak. To Death she's dearly pay'd the kane— Tam Samson's dead! The Brethren.] [Footnote 2: Another preacher.B. An' sigh." stanza ii. 296 . And binds the mire like a rock.—R. Like ony bead. a great favourite with the million." stanza ix.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns.—R. an equal favourite with the few.

ye birring paitricks a'. And geds for greed.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. But och! he gaed and ne'er return'd! Tam Samson's dead! In vain auld age his body batters. weel-ken'd for souple tail. Tam Samson's dead! That woefu' morn be ever mourn'd. Your mortal fae is now awa. Since. Ye maukins. greetin. we wail Tam Samson's dead! Rejoice. And trouts bedropp'd wi' crimson hail. But now he lags on Death's hog-score— Tam Samson's dead! Now safe the stately sawmont sail. In time o' need. Saw him in shooting graith adorn'd. or wick a bore. dark in Death's fish-creel. cock your fud fu' braw Withouten dread. or draw. Frae couples free'd. by Robert Burns He was the king o' a' the core. An acre braid! Now ev'ry auld wife. And eels. In vain the burns cam down like waters. While pointers round impatient burn'd. crousely craw. In vain the gout his ancles fetters. Ye cootie muircocks. To guard. clatters "Tam Samson's dead!" 297 . Or up the rink like Jehu roar.

And sportsmen wander by yon grave. Whare Burns has wrote. Three volleys let his memory crave. O' pouther an' lead. Perhaps upon his mould'ring breast Some spitefu' muirfowl bigs her nest To hatch an' breed: Alas! nae mair he'll them molest! Tam Samson's dead! When August winds the heather wave. low he lies. He reel'd his wonted bottle-swagger. Marks out his head. in rhyming blether. "Tam Samson's dead!" 298 . in lasting rest. five!" he cry'd. "Lord. Ilk sportsman youth bemoan'd a father. "Tam Samson's dead!" When at his heart he felt the dagger. "Tam Samson's dead!" There. by Robert Burns Owre mony a weary hag he limpit. But yet he drew the mortal trigger. an' owre did stagger— Tam Samson's dead! Ilk hoary hunter mourn'd a brither. Till coward Death behind him jumpit. Till Echo answer frae her cave. Yon auld gray stane. An' aye the tither shot he thumpit. Wi' deadly feid. Now he proclaims wi' tout o' trumpet. amang the heather. Wi' weel-aimed heed.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns.

rhyming billie. For. or maybe three. Per Contra Go. by Robert Burns Heav'n rest his saul whare'er he be! Is th' wish o' mony mae than me: He had twa fauts. yet unskaithed by Death's gleg gullie. honest man want we: Tam Samson's dead! 299 The Epitaph Tam Samson's weel-worn clay here lies Ye canting zealots. Yet what remead? Ae social. spare him! If honest worth in Heaven rise. thairm-inspirin'. rattlin' Willie! Tho' fortune's road be rough an' hilly To every fiddling. Fame. Tam Samson's leevin'! Epistle To Major Logan Hail. . an' canter like a filly Thro' a' the streets an' neuks o' Killie.^3 Tell ev'ry social honest billie To cease his grievin'.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Ye'll mend or ye win near him. We never heed.

B. idly goavin'. A grey hair'd carl. Hale be your heart! hale be your fiddle! Lang may your elbuck jink and diddle. Come wealth. Some black bog-hole. Yirr! fancy barks. May still your life from day to day.—R.] When. Proud o' her speed. And screw your temper-pins aboon A fifth or mair The melancholious. [Footnote 3: Kilmarnock.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. lazy croon O' cankrie care. But "allegretto forte" gay. late or soon. Arrests us. by Robert Burns But take it like the unback'd filly. Nae "lente largo" in the play. Harmonious flow. Up hill. Until you on a crummock driddle. awa we canter. To cheer you through the weary widdle O' this wild warl'. come poortith. kindling. whiles we saunter. then the scathe an' banter We're forced to thole. Heaven send your heart-strings aye in tune. A sweeping. down brae. An' never think o' right an' wrang 300 . bauld strathspey— Encore! Bravo! A blessing on the cheery gang Wha dearly like a jig or sang. till some mischanter.

hoodock. shall jog thegither. Are wise or fool. By by yon moon!—and that's high swearin— An' every star within my hearin! An' by her een wha was a dear ane! 301 . priests wyte them sheerly For our grand fa'. purse-proud race. But. curs'd. We're frail backsliding mortals merely. My hand-waled curse keep hard in chase The harpy.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. When they fa' foul o' earthly jinkers! The witching. cheek for chow. Their tuneless hearts. May fireside discords jar a base To a' their parts. delicious blinkers Hae put me hyte. by Robert Burns By square an' rule. We. but still. An' that there is. I' th' ither warl'. We've faults and failings—granted clearly. But still. I like them dearly— God bless them a'! Ochone for poor Castalian drinkers. if there's anither. I'se ne'er bid better. And gart me weet my waukrife winkers. your hand. Wi' girnin'spite. I've little swither About the matter. my careless brither. as the clegs o' feeling stang. Wha count on poortith as disgrace. Eve's bonie squad. But come.

But when in Ayr.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. To sentimental sister Susie. I'll seek my pursie whare I tint it. Mossgiel. Some cantraip hour By some sweet elf I'll yet be dinted. Be't light. Sir Bard will do himself the pleasure To call at Park. 1786. Then vive l'amour! Faites mes baissemains respectueuses. But when the heart is nobly warm. but not repent it. be't dark. Robert Burns. some half-hour's leisure. no to roose you. And honest Lucky. That sic a couple Fate allows ye. To grace your blood. by Robert Burns I'll ne'er forget. I hope to gie the jads a clearin In fair play yet. Nae mair at present can I measure. My loss I mourn. 30th October. 302 Fragment On Sensibility Rusticity's ungainly form May cloud the highest mind. Ance to the Indies I were wonted. An' trowth my rhymin ware's nae treasure. Ye may be proud. .

Dim-dark'ning thro' the flaky show'r. Poor Labour sweet in sleep was locked. by Robert Burns The good excuse will find. . and unfed sides. Your loop'd and window'd raggedness. harsh rebuke. wha bide this brattle O' winter war. Down headlong hurl: List'ning the doors an' winnocks rattle. Far south the lift. Or silly sheep. wheresoe'er you are. 303 A Winter Night Poor naked wretches. While burns. Sharp shivers thro' the leafless bow'r. Propriety's cold. Wild-eddying swirl. When biting Boreas. wi' snawy wreaths up-choked. defend you From seasons such as these?—Shakespeare. Or whirling drift: Ae night the storm the steeples rocked. thro' the mining outlet bocked. When Phoebus gies a short-liv'd glow'r. cautious rules Warm fervour may o'erlook: But spare poor sensibility Th' ungentle. I thought me on the ourie cattle. fell and dour.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm! How shall your houseless heads. Or.

like blood-hounds from the slip. blow. Delighted me to hear thee sing. While pityless the tempest wild Sore on you beats! Now Phoebe in her midnight reign. view'd the dreary plain. on murdering errands toil'd. as now united. Vengeful malice unrepenting. Rose in my soul. Dark-muff'd. When on my ear this plantive strain. a pensive train. sprattle Beneath a scar. 304 . smothering snows! Not all your rage.—wee. thou bitter-biting frost! Descend. Slow. ye winds. Sending. helpless thing! That. Still crowding thoughts. Lone from your savage homes exil'd. solemn. What comes o' thee? Whare wilt thou cow'r thy chittering wing. in the merry months o' spring. Or mad Ambition's gory hand. stole:— "Blow. deep-lairing. An' close thy e'e? Ev'n you. Than heaven-illumin'd Man on brother Man bestows! "See stern Oppression's iron grip. with heavier gust! And freeze. ye chilly. The blood-stain'd roost. shows More hard unkindness unrelenting.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. and sheep-cote spoil'd My heart forgets. Ilk happing bird. by Robert Burns And thro' the drift.

How pamper'd Luxury. sunk in beds of down. The pow'rs you proudly own? Is there. Flatt'ry by her side. Whose toil upholds the glitt'ring show— A creature of another kind. weeping. the selfish aim. Shunning soft Pity's rising sway. where is Love's fond. rustic hind. tells the mournful tale. The parasite empoisoning her ear. thus vile. With lordly Honour's lofty brow. and Murder o'er a land! Ev'n in the peaceful rural vale. Some coarser substance. Feel not a want but what yourselves create. Whom friends and fortune quite disown! 305 . in Misery's squalid nest. To bless himself alone? Mark maiden-innocence a prey To love-pretending snares: This boasted Honour turns away. Truth. Want. And eyes the simple. tender throe. extended wide. Can harbour. on his wretched fate. Think. dark. beneath Love's noble name. With all the servile wretches in the rear.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. unrefin'd— Plac'd for her lordly use thus far. below! "Where. by Robert Burns Woe. for a moment. And with a mother's fears shrinks at the rocking blast! "Oh ye! who. Looks o'er proud Property. Regardless of the tears and unavailing pray'rs! Perhaps this hour. She strains your infant to her joyless breast.

o'er his slumbers. 306 Song—Yon Wild Mossy Mountains Yon wild mossy mountains sae lofty and wide. piles the drifty heap! Think on the dungeon's grim confine. And the shepherd tends his flock as he pipes on his reed. The heart benevolent and kind The most resembles God. While through the ragged roof and chinky wall. Not Gowrie's rich valley. relenting view. Where Guilt and poor Misfortune pine! Guilt. already crushed low By cruel Fortune's undeserved blow? Affliction's sons are brothers in distress. . But shall thy legal rage pursue The wretch. how exquisite the bliss!" I heard nae mair. mossy moors. A brother to relieve. That nurse in their bosom the youth o' the Clyde. Where the grouse lead their coveys thro' the heather to feed. To me hae the charms o'yon wild. A cottage-rousing craw. But deep this truth impress'd my mind— Thro' all His works abroad. for Chanticleer Shook off the pouthery snaw. And hail'd the morning with a cheer. nor Forth's sunny shores.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. he lays himself to sleep. Stretch'd on his straw. by Robert Burns Ill-satisfy'd keen nature's clamorous call. Chill. erring man.

For there. O. But kindness. And singing. Her parentage humble as humble can be. by a lanely. Besides a sweet lassie. the lingering hours. Has lustre outshining the diamond to me. these are my lassie's all-conquering charms! 307 Address To Edinburgh Edina! Scotia's darling seat! All hail thy palaces and tow'rs. beneath a Monarch's feet. But I lo'e the dear lassie because she lo'es me. Amang thae wild mountains shall still be my path. my thought and my dream.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. sweet kindness. Sat Legislation's sov'reign pow'rs: From marking wildly scatt'red flow'rs. While o'er us unheeded flie the swift hours o'love. and blushes. As on the banks of Ayr I stray'd. To Beauty what man but maun yield him a prize. She is not the fairest. In her armour of glances. O' nice education but sma' is her share. narrow strath. lone. And the heart beating love as I'm clasp'd in her arms. I shelter in they honour'd shade. and sighs? And when wit and refinement hae polish'd her darts. in the fond-sparkling e'e. . by Robert Burns For there. wi' my lassie. They dazzle our een. Ilk stream foaming down its ain green. Where once. the day lang I rove. as they flie to our hearts. altho' she is fair. sequestered stream.

And own His work indeed divine! There. There Learning. Like some bold veteran. As busy Trade his labours plies. by Robert Burns Here Wealth still swells the golden tide. I see the Sire of Love on high. Sweet as the dewy. their liberal mind. with his eagle eyes. watching high the least alarms. Heaven's beauties on my fancy shine. social. And never may their sources fail! And never Envy blot their name! Thy daughters bright thy walks adorn. High wields her balance and her rod. rural vale: Attentive still to Sorrow's wail. from her native skies. And mark'd with many a seamy scar: The pond'rous wall and massy bar.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Gay as the gilded summer sky. grey in arms. kind. Above the narrow. milk-white thorn. Thy sons. With open arms the stranger hail. Or modest Merit's silent claim. 308 . Seeks Science in her coy abode. Grim—rising o'er the rugged rock. Their views enlarg'd. There Architecture's noble pride Bids elegance and splendour rise: Here Justice. Edina. rude fortress gleams afar. Thy rough. Dear as the raptur'd thrill of joy! Fair Burnet strikes th' adoring eye.

Fam'd heroes! had their royal home: Alas. And oft repell'd th' invader's shock. And singing. Haply my sires have left their shed. the ling'ring hours. I shelter in thy honour'd shade. I view that noble. and pitying tears. Bold-following where your fathers led! Edina! Scotia's darling seat! All hail thy palaces and tow'rs. how chang'd the times to come! Their royal name low in the dust! Their hapless race wild-wand'ring roam! Tho' rigid Law cries out 'twas just! Wild beats my heart to trace your steps. Where Scotia's kings of other years. Where once. beneath a Monarch's feet. lone. Thro' hostile ranks and ruin'd gaps Old Scotia's bloody lion bore: Ev'n I who sing in rustic lore. stately Dome. 309 . And fac'd grim Danger's loudest roar.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Whose ancestors. As on the banks of Ayr I stray'd. With awe-struck thought. in days of yore. Sat Legislation's sovereign pow'rs: From marking wildly-scatt'red flow'rs. by Robert Burns Have oft withstood assailing war.

Then auld Guidman. Is there that owre his French ragout Or olio that wad staw a sow. Bethankit! hums. His knife see rustic Labour dight. And then. Great chieftain o' the pudding-race! Aboon them a' yet tak your place. . horn for horn. Warm-reekin'. Your pin was help to mend a mill In time o'need. The groaning trencher there ye fill.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. While thro' your pores the dews distil Like amber bead. or thairm: Weel are ye wordy o'a grace As lang's my arm. O what a glorious sight. by Robert Burns 310 Address To A Haggis Fair fa' your honest. rich! Then. Your hurdies like a distant hill. An' cut you up wi' ready sleight. sonsie face. Like ony ditch. maist like to rive. they stretch an' strive: Deil tak the hindmost! on they drive. Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve Are bent like drums. Trenching your gushing entrails bright. Painch. Or fricassee wad make her spew Wi' perfect sconner. tripe.

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. The trembling earth resounds his tread. . scornfu' view On sic a dinner? Poor devil! see him owre his trash. And dish them out their bill o' fare. For A New-Year's Gift. As feckles as wither'd rash. Again the silent wheels of time Their annual round have driven. 1787. wha mak mankind your care. He'll mak it whissle. O how unfit! But mark the Rustic. 1. An' legs an' arms. His spindle shank. Jan. if ye wish her gratefu' prayer Gie her a haggis! 311 1787 To Miss Logan. by Robert Burns Looks down wi' sneering. Like taps o' trissle. haggis-fed. But. an' hands will sned. Clap in his walie nieve a blade. Ye Pow'rs. Thro' blody flood or field to dash. His nieve a nit. Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware That jaups in luggies. a guid whip-lash. With Beattie's Poems.

and faithless love. perhaps too true. wild staring. benevolent. I cannilie keekit ben. His heart was warm. each lover prove An Edwin still to you. Rattlin'. Our sex with guile. And amang gude companie. thatch'd A head for thought profound and clear.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. dear maid. Sittin at yon boord-en. No gifts have I from Indian coasts The infant year to hail. Rattlin'. Rattlin'. the grey surtout the same. I send you more than India boasts. 312 Mr. unmatch'd. The old cock'd hat. His bristling beard just rising in its might. Roarin' Willie^1 As I cam by Crochallan. Yet tho' his caustic wit was biting-rude. and good. by Robert Burns And you. In Edwin's simple tale. Are so much nearer Heaven. William Smellie—A Sketch Shrewd Willie Smellie to Crochallan came. But may. roarin' Willie. tho' scarce in maiden prime. . Is charg'd. 'Twas four long nights and days to shaving night: His uncomb'd grizzly locks. roarin' Willie Was sittin at yon boord-en'.

His argument he tint it: He gaped for't." Lord Advocate He clenched his pamphlet in his fist.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. man. S. of the Crochallan Fencibles. He quoted and he hinted. Mr. and dearer to me! But I'll big a bow'r on yon bonie banks. . And mak thee a man like thy daddie dear. W. But what his common sense came short. An' I'll cleed thee in the tartan sae fine. Erskine Collected. Thou's aye the dearer. in a declamation-mist. man. He eked out wi' law. He fand it was awa. he graped for't. Harry stood awee. Till. Extempore In The Court Of Session Tune—"Killiercrankie. Whare Tay rins wimplin' by sae clear.. by Robert Burns You're welcome hame to me! 313 Song—Bonie Dundee My blessin's upon thy sweet wee lippie! My blessin's upon thy e'e-brie! Thy smiles are sae like my blythe sodger laddie. man. [Footnote 1: William Dunbar. Then open'd out his arm.

] His Lordship sat wi' ruefu' e'e. man: Like wind-driven hail it did assail' Or torrents owre a lin. sweet tuneful youth. With tears I pity thy unhappy fate! . Inscribed Under Fergusson's Portrait Curse on ungrateful man. Yet Luxury and Wealth lay by in state. Additional Stanzas She mourns. lift up their eyes. my elder brother in misfortune. thankless. This tribute. And ey'd the gathering storm. with a tear.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. by Robert Burns a convivial club. man: The Bench sae wise. By far my elder brother in the Muses. Tho' all the powers of song thy fancy fired. "No storied urn nor animated bust. 314 Inscription For The Headstone Of Fergusson The Poet^1 No sculptured marble here. A nobler monument than Art can shew. And. And yet can starve the author of the pleasure. that can be pleased. To pour her sorrows o'er the Poet's dust. starv'd what they so much admired. man. thy hapless fate. Half-wauken'd wi' the din. O thou." This simple stone directs pale Scotia's way. now gives A brother Bard—he can no more bestow: But dear to fame thy Song immortal lives. nor pompous lay.

and blate. Or haud a yokin' at the pleugh. A wish that to my latest hour Shall strongly heave my breast.] 315 Epistle To Mrs. When I was bardless. . Still shearing. by Robert Burns Why is the Bard unpitied by the world. 1789. Gudewife. An' wi' the lave ilk merry morn Could rank my rig and lass. An.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. an' haivers. Wearing the day awa. E'en then. Roxburghshire. Yet unco proud to learn: When first amang the yellow corn A man I reckon'd was. Wi' claivers. I Mind it weel in early date. and clearing The tither stooked raw. An' first could thresh the barn. Yet has so keen a relish of its pleasures? [Footnote 1: The stone was erected at Burns' expenses in February—March. Scott Gudewife of Wauchope—House. (I mind its pow'r). a wish. tho' forfoughten sair eneugh. That I for poor auld Scotland's sake Some usefu' plan or book could make. Or sing a sang at least. young.

the balm of woe. inspired. Be mindfu' o' your mither. She rous'd the forming strain. the heaven below. I knew nae higher praise. I fired. the sonsie quean. That lighted up my jingle. and dashing. 'Till on that har'st I said before. 316 . The saul o' life. but blot still. But still the elements o' sang. I feared aye to speak.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Wild floated in my brain. But bashing. I see her yet. My envy e'er could raise. May partner in the merry core. spreading wide Amang the bearded bear. right an' wrang. In formless jumble. An' we to share in common. An' spar'd the symbol dear: No nation. A Scot still. Health to the sex! ilk guid chiel says: Wi' merry dance in winter days. by Robert Burns The rough burr-thistle. Ye surly sumphs. her pawky een That gart my heart-strings tingle. At every kindling keek. I turn'd the weeder-clips aside. Is rapture-giving woman. The gust o' joy. who hate the name. no station. Her witching smile.

'Twad please me to the nine. lang hale then. may think shame That ye're connected with her: Ye're wae men. ye're nae men That slight the lovely dears. By me should gratefully be ware. Farewell then. Douce hingin owre my curple. Or proud imperial purple. I'd be mair vauntie o' my hap. by Robert Burns She. honest woman. Burns March. For you.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Wha sweetly tune the Scottish lyre. disclaim ye. 1787 317 Verses Intended To Be Written Below A Noble Earl's Picture^1 Whose is that noble. An' plenty be your fa. no bred to barn and byre. E'en rooted foes admire? . To shame ye. Than ony ermine ever lap. Ilk honest birkie swears. Thanks to you for your line: The marled plaid ye kindly spare. dauntless brow? And whose that eye of fire? And whose that generous princely mien. May losses and crosses Ne'er at your hallan ca'! R.

Hail. Monday. Would take His hand. 318 Prologue Spoken by Mr. His guardian Seraph eyes with awe The noble Ward he loves. With stately port he moves. When. Mark Scotia's fond-returning eye. as great in war. And mark that eye of fire. name for ever dear! Before whose sons I'm honour'd to appear? [Footnote 1: The Nobleman is James. 1787.] . Waen here your favour is the actor's lot. But here an ancient nation. Bright as a cloudless summer sun. That dearest meed is granted—honest fame. learning high. Fourteenth Earl of Glencairn. Caledonia. by a generous Public's kind acclaim. Among the illustrious Scottish sons That chief thou may'st discern. But heaves impassion'd with the grateful throe? Poor is the task to please a barb'rous throng. by Robert Burns Stranger! to justly show that brow. For genius. Woods on his benefit-night. fam'd afar. 16th April. whose vernal tints His other works admire.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Nor even the man in private life forgot. What breast so dead to heavenly Virtue's glow.— It dwells upon Glencairn. It needs no Siddons' powers in Southern's song.

you applaud or blame. Is known. O Thou. Still Self-dependent in her native shore. or female beauty bright. no idle pedant dream. Here Douglas forms wild Shakespeare into plan. Firm may she rise. (Beauty. With decency and law beneath his feet. As on this night. No hundred—headed riot here we meet. I've met these judges here! But still the hope Experience taught to live. Nor Insolence assumes fair Freedom's name: Like Caledonians. by Robert Burns Where every science. When well-form'd taste and sparkling wit unite With manly lore. That can inform the mind or mend the heart. dread Power! whose empire-giving hand Has oft been stretch'd to shield the honour'd land! Strong may she glow with all her ancient fire. Philosophy. every nobler art. Bold may she brave grim Danger's loudest roar. Here holds her search by heaven-taught Reason's beam. with generous disdain At Tyranny's. And Harley rouses all the God in man. Far as the rude barbarian marks the bound. May every son be worthy of his sire. as grateful nations oft have found. 319 .Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Witness my heart. Equal to judge—you're candid to forgive. how oft with panting fear. where faultless symmetry and grace Can only charm us in the second place). Here History paints with elegance and force The tide of Empire's fluctuating course. or direr Pleasure's chain.

beware at the hunting. whirr! she was over. and some as they spring. They hunted the valley. &c. young men. as he peep'd o'er the hill. The best of our lads wi' the best o' their skill. I rede you. Her plumage outlustr'd the pride o' the spring And O! as she wanton'd sae gay on the wing. Chorus. But still as the fairest she sat in their sight.—I rede you. I rede you. I rede you. But cannily steal on a bonie moor-hen. In spite at her plumage he tried his skill. He levell'd his rays where she bask'd on the brae— His rays were outshone. Sweet—brushing the dew from the brown heather bells Her colours betray'd her on yon mossy fells. O'er moors and o'er mosses and mony a glen. young men. a mile at a flight. beware at the hunting. I rede you. At length they discover'd a bonie moor-hen. the meadows were mawn. Then. Our lads gaed a-hunting ae day at the dawn. and but mark'd where she lay. by Robert Burns Till Fate the curtain drop on worlds to be no more. Take some on the wing. 320 The Bonie Moor-Hen The heather was blooming.&c. &c. they hunted the hill. .Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Auld Phoebus himself.

The flower and fancy o' the west. There wons auld Colin's bonie lass. My lady's white. my lady's drest. &c. Where laughing love sae wanton swims.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. But Jenny's jimps and jirkinet. O that's the lass to mak him blest. My lady's gown. A lily in a wilderness. My lord thinks meikle mair upon't. And gowden flowers sae rare upon't. Like music notes o'lovers' hymns: The diamond-dew in her een sae blue. my lady's red. My lady's gown. My lord a-hunting he is gone. But the lassie than a man lo'es best. And kith and kin o' Cassillis' blude. &c. Whare gor-cocks thro' the heather pass. by Robert Burns 321 Song—My Lord A-Hunting Chorus.—My lady's gown. By Colin's cottage lies his game. there's gairs upon't. Were a' the charms his lordship lo'ed. out o'er yon moss. My lady's gown. My lady's gown. But hounds or hawks wi' him are nane. My lady's dink. Sae sweetly move her genty limbs. &c. . If Colin's Jenny be at hame. &c. Out o'er yon muir. But her ten-pund lands o' tocher gude.

322 Epigram At Roslin Inn My blessings on ye. &c. I'll gie ye some advice. You'll tak it no uncivil: You shouldna paint at angels mair. Ye've wealth o' gear for spoon and knife— Heart could not wish for more.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. But O respect his lordship's taste. . Heav'n keep you clear o' sturt and strife. But try and paint the devil. Wi' Nick. Ye maggots. The Book-Worms Through and through th' inspir'd leaves. by Robert Burns My lady's gown. To paint an Angel's kittle wark. And while I toddle on thro' life. But no sae weel a stranger. there's little danger: You'll easy draw a lang-kent face. I'll ne'er gae by your door! Epigram Addressed To An Artist Dear _____. Till far ayont fourscore. honest wife! I ne'er was here before. B. make your windings.—R.

And use them as ye ought. man: Believe me. before his life may end. 'Twas laurel'd Martial calling murther. la. And comes not aye when sought. Here's a bottle and an honest friend! What wad ye wish for mair. Had a woman ever less? . man. 323 On Elphinstone's Translation Of Martial's Epigrams O Thou whom Poetry abhors. Whom Prose has turned out of doors. Song—A Bottle And Friend There's nane that's blest of human kind. happiness is shy. your envious railing. Heard'st thou yon groan?—proceed no further. man. la. man? Then catch the moments as they fly. What his share may be o' care. But the cheerful and the gay. &c. she had one failing. man? Wha kens. Lines Written Under The Picture Of The Celebrated Miss Burns Cease. Lovely Burns has charms—confess: True it is. by Robert Burns And spare his golden bindings. Fal.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. ye prudes.

An' we hae pints to bring. by Robert Burns 324 Epitaph For William Nicol. ca' thro'. We'll live a' our days. For few sic feasts you've gotten. &c. For we hae muckle ado. And the lasses o' Leven. . We hae pennies tae spend. And the kimmers o' Largo.—Hey. For deil a bit o't's rotten. Epitaph For Mr. And them that comes behin'. An' we hae sangs to sing. Chorus. feed on Nicol's brain. O Satan. ca' thro'. Fifeshire. Gie him the schulin o' your weans. Here lie Willie Michie's banes. ca' thro'.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. William Michie Schoolmaster of Cleish Parish. We hae tales to tell. Edinburgh Ye maggots. Hey. ca' thro'. For we hae muckle ado. For clever deils he'll mak them! Boat song—Hey. And the lads o' Buckhaven. Ca' Thro' Up wi' the carls o' Dysart. Hey. ca' thro'. And fix your claws in Nicol's heart. when ye tak him. Of The High School.

Still more if that wand'rer were royal.. by Robert Burns Let them do the like. The Queen.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. But. ca' thro'. Let no one misdeem me disloyal. Those fathers would spurn their degenerate son. a name once respected. be they foolish. Of Woodhouselee With an Impression of the Author's Portrait. loyalty. Their title's avow'd by my country. But why of that epocha make such a fuss. Of Stuart. But now 'tis despis'd and neglected. I'm sure 'twas as lucky for them. A poor friendless wand'rer may well claim a sigh. Tytler. Hey. My fathers that name have rever'd on a throne: My fathers have fallen to right it. An' spend the gear they win. which to love was the mark of a true heart. That name should he scoffingly slight it. 325 Address To Wm. Still in prayers for King George I most heartily join. Esq. truce! we're on dangerous ground. is nothing of mine. and the rest of the gentry: Be they wise. Tho' something like moisture conglobes in my eye. Who knows how the fashions may alter? . A name. That gave us th' Electoral stem? If bringing them over was lucky for us. Revered defender of beauteous Stuart. &c.

to-day. And ushers the long dreary night: But you. Your course to the latest is bright. Burlesque Lament For The Absence Of William Creech. as a mark of regard.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. 326 Epigram To Miss Ainslie In Church Who was looking up the text during sermon. a head of a bard. Her darling bird that she lo'es best— Willie's awa! O Willie was a witty wight. that is loyalty sound. Fair maid. But accept it. Now life's chilly evening dim shades on your eye. Nor idle texts pursue: 'Twas guilty sinners that he meant. Not Angels such as you. Nae joy her bonie buskit nest Can yield ava. good Sir. like the star that athwart gilds the sky. Sincere as a saint's dying prayer. A trifle scarce worthy your care. Down droops her ance weel burnish'd crest. you need not take the hint. To-morrow may bring us a halter! I send you a trifle. Publisher Auld chuckie Reekie's^1 sair distrest. by Robert Burns The doctrine. .

He wha could brush them down to mools— Willie's awa! [Footnote 1: Edinburgh. He was a dictionar and grammar Among them a'. Frae colleges and boarding schools. That was a law: We've lost a birkie weel worth gowd. May sprout like simmer puddock-stools In glen or shaw.— Willie's awa! The stiffest o' them a' he bow'd. tawpies. The bauldest o' them a' he cow'd. Willie's awa! Now gawkies. I fear they'll now mak mony a stammer. In bloody raw! The adjutant o' a' the core— Willie's awa! 327 . gowks and fools. Auld Reekie aye he keepit tight. They durst nae mair than he allow'd. Willie's awa! Nae mair we see his levee door Philosophers and poets pour. And trig an' braw: But now they'll busk her like a fright.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. And toothy critics by the score.] The brethren o' the Commerce-chaumer May mourn their loss wi' doolfu' clamour. by Robert Burns And had o' things an unco' sleight.

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. But every joy and pleasure's fled. Tho' far awa! 328 . Ilk self-conceited critic skellum His quill may draw. by Robert Burns Now worthy Gregory's Latin face. A text for Infamy to preach. streekit out to bleach In winter snaw. He cheeps like some bewilder'd chicken Scar'd frae it's minnie and the cleckin. Willie's awa! May I be Slander's common speech. Willie's awa! Poor Burns ev'n Scotch Drink canna quicken. And lastly. When I forget thee. now roaring red. Mackenzie. By hoodie-craw. Tytler's and Greenfield's modest grace. While tempests blaw. And Calvin's folk. such a brace As Rome ne'er saw. are fit to fell him. They a' maun meet some ither place. Grieg's gien his heart an unco kickin. Stewart. Willie Creech. And Ettrick banks. Willie's awa! Now ev'ry sour-mou'd girnin blellum. He wha could brawlie ward their bellum— Willie's awa! Up wimpling stately Tweed I've sped. And Eden scenes on crystal Jed.

Strait is the spot and green the sod From whence my sorrows flow.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Tho' 'twere a trip to yon blue warl'. While o'er the turf I bow. gentle shade. Whare birkies march on burning marl: Then.B. I grant receipt. I'll attend ye. Thy earthy house is circumscrib'd. Fleet wing awa! 329 Note To Mr. Sir. Pardon my transport. Sir. There is a great deal of "The voice of Cona" in his solitary. R. And to his goodness I commend ye. . Wi' you I'll canter ony gate.—R. And solitary now. they would have been no discredit even to that elegant poet. mournful notes. God willing. by Robert Burns May never wicked Fortune touzle him! May never wicked men bamboozle him! Until a pow as auld's Methusalem He canty claw! Then to the blessed new Jerusalem. Burns Elegy On "Stella" The following poem is the work of some hapless son of the Muses who deserved a better fate. Renton Of Lamerton Your billet. And soundly sleeps the ever dear Inhabitant below. and had the sentiments been clothed in Shenstone's language.

Or make thy virtues known: But what avails to me—to thee. Unseen by thee. The multitude that sleep below Existed but to die. round thy narrow house.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. The graves unnumber'd lie. by Death's cold arms In awful fold embrac'd. and Beauty fall. Till the slow poison brought thy youth Untimely to the tomb. with the tottering steps of Age. Behold where. his deadly breath Thy lingering frame destroy'd. Some. The ruthless ruin spreads around. Thus wasted are the ranks of men— Youth. And wipe the rising tear: The chill blast passes swiftly by. Trod down the darksome way. Health. by Robert Burns Not one poor stone to tell thy name. Pale grew the roses on thy cheek. The sculpture of a stone? I'll sit me down upon this turf. I saw the grim Avenger stand Incessant by thy side. And overwhelms us all. And flits around thy bier. And sad their house of rest: Low lies the head. Dark is the dwelling of the Dead. And wither'd was thy bloom. 330 .

amid the silent Dead Thy hapless fate he mourns. His friend. 331 . when first thy heart Was taught by Heav'n to glow.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. the stern impulse of Fate Resistless bears along. cut off in early youth. his first and only joy. And flower of beauty's pride. From thy lov'd friends. too. in youth's lamented prime. the ruthless stroke Surpris'd and laid thee low. Far. And the same rapid tide shall whelm The Poet and the Song. died. a thoughtful bard Sits lonely by thy grave. Their native earth receives. Pensive he eyes. Amid their weeping friends they died. Touch'd by thy face. Wash'd by the western wave. And all his grief returns: Like thee. by Robert Burns And some. however hard their fate. outstretch'd and vast. His own long sorrows freshly bleed. His mourning notes are borne away Along the rapid blast. And fill their fathers' graves. before him spread The deep. far remov'd. And while. Him. His much lov'd Stella. Like thee were torn away: Yet these. At the last limits of our isle.

Let but his poor remains be laid Obscurely in the grave. And Highland scab and hunger: If Providence has sent me here. And lead the solitary bard To his belov'd repose? 332 The Bard At Inverary Whoe'er he be that sojourns here. His Grace. with truest joy. There's naething here but Highland pride. Epigram To Miss Jean Scott O had each Scot of ancient times Been. He asks not to receive. my Stella.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. And silent on the rock. Unless he comes to wait upon The Lord their God. Jeanie Scott. when Shall this sick period close. O. 'Twas surely in his anger. Shall meet he welcome shock: His airy harp shall lie unstrung. as thou art. The bravest heart on English ground . by Robert Burns The tear of pity which he sheds. my dear maid. His grief-worn heart. I pity much his case.

thou idle page. Sad thy tale. . And fear no withering blast. Esq. by Robert Burns Had yielded like a coward. Sweetly deckt with pearly dew The morning rose may blow. Brother to a young Lady. Dread Omnipotence alone Can heal the wound he gave— Can point the brimful grief-worn eyes To scenes beyond the grave. But cold successive noontide blasts May lay its beauties low.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. There Isabella's spotless worth Shall happy be at last. 333 On The Death Of John M'Leod. Fair on Isabella's morn The sun propitious smil'd. But. And so that heart was wrung. a particular friend of the Author's. succeeding clouds Succeeding hopes beguil'd. So Isabella's heart was form'd. long ere noon. Fate oft tears the bosom chords That Nature finest strung. And rueful thy alarms: Death tears the brother of her love From Isabella's arms. Virtue's blossoms there shall blow.

Anthony's Chapel. once hallow'd well. cloudy.—R. B.^2 Or mould'ring ruins mark the sacred fane.] [Footnote 2: St. Revers'd that spear.—R. redoubtable in war.—R. And hollow whistled in the rocky cave. by Robert Burns 334 Elegy On The Death Of Sir James Hunter Blair The lamp of day. And mix'd her wailings with the raving storm Wild to my heart the filial pulses glow. erst in fields unfurl'd. That like a deathful meteor gleam'd afar. .] The paly moon rose in the livid east. 'Twas Caledonia's trophied shield I view'd: Her form majestic droop'd in pensive woe. The lightning of her eye in tears imbued. The clouds swift-wing'd flew o'er the starry sky. that frantic beat her breast. Dim.^3 Th' increasing blast roar'd round the beetling rocks. And 'mong the cliffs disclos'd a stately form In weeds of woe. sank beneath the western wave. B. with—ill presaging glare. The groaning trees untimely shed their locks. Reclined that banner.^1 Or mus'd where limpid streams. [Footnote 1: The King's Park at Holyrood House. Once the lov'd haunts of Scotia's royal train. Th' inconstant blast howl'd thro' the dark'ning air.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Anthony's well. And shooting meteors caught the startled eye. B. Lone as I wander'd by each cliff and dell.] [Footnote 3: St.

In hopes to be mair wise. And grateful science heaves the heartfelt sigh! "I saw my sons resume their ancient fire.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Low lies the heart that swell'd with honest pride. Thro' future times to make his virtues last. 335 Impromptu On Carron Iron Works We cam na here to view your warks. "And I will join a mother's tender cares. While empty greatness saves a worthless name? No. It may be nae surprise: But when we tirl'd at your door . The helpless poor mix with the orphan's cry. "Low lies the hand oft was stretch'd to save. And future ages hear his growing fame. "My patriot falls: but shall he lie unsung. every muse shall join her tuneful tongue. lest we gang to hell. "My patriot son fills an untimely grave!" With accents wild and lifted arms she cried. and vanish'd with the sweeping blast. The drooping arts surround their patron's bier. by Robert Burns And brav'd the mighty monarchs of the world. That distant years may boast of other Blairs!"— She said. But only. "A weeping country joins a widow's tear. I saw fair Freedom's blossoms richly blow: But ah! how hope is born but to expire! Relentless fate has laid their guardian low.

Your billy Satan sair us! 336 To Miss Ferrier Enclosing the Elegy on Sir J. Sae may. A' gude things may attend you! . My saul lay in the mire. Nae heathen name shall I prefix. And pray. But. Auld Reekie dings them a' to sticks. In gratitude I send you. For rhyme-inspiring lasses. A creeping cauld prosaic fog My very sense doited. shou'd we to Hell's yetts come. Nine Ferriers wad done better! Last day my mind was in a bog.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Jove's tunefu' dochters three times three Made Homer deep their debtor. Frae Pindus or Parnassus. Ye turned a neuk—I saw your e'e— She took the wing like fire! The mournfu' sang I here enclose. in rhyme as weel as prose. gien the body half an e'e. Down George's Street I stoited. H. by Robert Burns Your porter dought na hear us. Blair. Do what I dought to set her free.

I believe. Says. Who know them best despise them most. on seeing the Royal Palace in ruin. by somebody. In a MS. and slanderous poet. but damn that ass' heel! The Libeller's Self-Reproof^1 Rash mortal. very petulantly. A race outlandish fills their throne. Fallen indeed. Dost not know that old Mansfield. to honour lost. The Poet's Reply To The Threat Of A Censorious Critic My imprudent lines were answered. who writes like the Bible. a Rev. The injured Stuart line is gone. Hamilton. Mr. Their sceptre's sway'd by other hands. the more 'tis a libel! .. thy name Shall no longer appear in the records of Fame. And laws for Scotland's weal ordained. by Robert Burns 337 Written By Somebody On The Window Of an Inn at Stirling. where I met the answer. and to the earth Whence groveling reptiles take their birth. the more 'tis a truth. But now unroof'd their palace stands. sir. An idiot race. Here Stuarts once in glory reigned. Burns says: Sore I feel Each other's scorn. I wrote below:— With Esop's lion.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns.

The village glittering in the noontide beam— Poetic ardours in my bosom swell. Th' incessant roar of headlong tumbling floods— Here Poesy might wake her heav'n-taught lyre. I pursue. The Tay meand'ring sweet in infant pride. Till fam'd Breadalbane opens to my view. Th' outstretching lake. Misfortunes lighten'd steps might wander wild. Find balm to soothe her bitter. These northern scenes with weary feet I trace. And look through Nature with creative fire. The palace rising on his verdant side. by Robert Burns 338 Verses Written With A Pencil Over the Chimney—piece in the Parlour of the Inn at Kenmore.—Lang. Admiring Nature in her wildest grace.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns.] My savage journey. Lone wand'ring by the hermit's mossy cell. in these lonely bounds. The hillocks dropt in Nature's careless haste. [Footnote 1: These are rhymes of dubious authenticity.— The meeting cliffs each deep-sunk glen divides. to the wrongs of Fate half reconcil'd. The woods wild scatter'd. clothe their ample sides. The lawns wood-fring'd in Nature's native taste. Th' abodes of covey'd grouse and timid sheep. The sweeping theatre of hanging woods. imbosomed 'mong the hills. rankling wounds: . curious. Here. And Disappointment. O'er many a winding dale and painful steep. Taymouth. The eye with wonder and amazement fills. The arches striding o'er the new-born stream.

Come let us spend the lightsome days. The little birdies blythely sing. The foaming stream deep-roaring fa's. 339 Song—The Birks Of Aberfeldy Tune—"The Birks of Abergeldie. will ye go To the birks of Aberfeldy! Now Simmer blinks on flowery braes. weets wi' misty showers The birks of Aberfeldy. Bonie lassie. And injur'd Worth forget and pardon man. In the birks of Aberfeldy. In the birks of Aberfeldy. &c. &c. And o'er the crystal streamlets plays. will ye go. The braes ascend like lofty wa's. Will ye go. Bonie lassie. The hoary cliffs are crown'd wi' flowers. Bonie lassie. And rising. . O'erhung wi' fragrant spreading shaws— The birks of Aberfeldy. Bonie lassie. &c. White o'er the linns the burnie pours.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. will ye go. by Robert Burns Here heart-struck Grief might heav'nward stretch her scan." Chorus. While o'er their heads the hazels hing.—Bonie lassie. Or lightly flit on wanton wing.

In gasping death to wallow. [Footnote 1: Bruar Falls. wanton spouts. glowrin' trouts. in their random. Bonie lassie. waste my foamy streams. &c. If. Dry-withering. I'm scorching up so shallow. They near the margin stray. How saucy Phoebus' scorching beams. but their effect is much impaired by the want of trees and shrubs. They're left the whitening stanes amang. Let Fortune's gifts at randoe flee. I know your noble ear Woe ne'er assails in vain. Embolden'd thus. 340 The Humble Petition Of Bruar Water To the noble Duke of Athole. in Athole. by Robert Burns Bonie lassie. And drink my crystal tide. are exceedingly picturesque and beautiful. hapless chance! they linger lang. That thro' my waters play.B. Supremely blest wi' love and thee. &c. They ne'er shall draw a wish frae me. In flaming summer-pride. I beg you'll hear Your humble slave complain. My lord.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. In the birks of Aberfeldy. .—R.^1 The lightly-jumping.] If.

Delighted doubly then. Ev'n as I was. high my boiling torrent smokes. Shall to the skies aspire. he shor'd me. He'll shade my banks wi' tow'ring trees. the lintwhite clear. I ween.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. wad ador'd me. And listen mony a grateful bird Return you tuneful thanks. A panegyric rhyme. Shall sweetly join the choir. There. foaming down the skelvy rocks. I am. And bonie spreading bushes. That. You'll wander on my banks. The mavis mild and mellow. Here. As Nature gave them me. by Robert Burns Last day I grat wi' spite and teen. Worth gaun a mile to see. kneeling. Would then my noble master please To grant my highest wishes. to a bard. As poet Burns came by. The blackbird strong. 341 . Wild-roaring o'er a linn: Enjoying each large spring and well. altho' I say't mysel'. He. But had I in my glory been. The sober lav'rock. Music's gayest child. my lord. In twisting strength I rin. I should be seen Wi' half my channel dry. warbling wild. The gowdspink.

Hoarse-swelling on the breeze. In all her locks of yellow. Mild-chequering thro' the trees. And coward maukin sleep secure. too. and ashes cool. The hour of heav'n to grace. by sweet. From prone-descending show'rs. at vernal dawn. Or. And view. endearing stealth. This. by the reaper's nightly beam. a covert shall ensure. The flow'rs shall vie in all their charms. dewy lawn. safe retreat. To shield them from the storm.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. My lowly banks o'erspread. deep-bending in the pool. And here. And birks extend their fragrant arms To screen the dear embrace. Here haply too. Let lofty firs. To weave his crown of flow'rs. Rave to my darkly dashing stream. Some musing bard may stray. Shall meet the loving pair. As empty idle care. Despising worlds. with all their wealth. by Robert Burns The robin pensive Autumn cheer. Low in her grassy form: Here shall the shepherd make his seat. Their shadow's wat'ry bed: 342 . Or find a shelt'ring. And misty mountain grey. And eye the smoking.

As high in air the bursting torrents flow. And viewles Echo's ear. in woodbines drest. The hoary cavern. Dim-seen.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. The close embow'ring thorn. And. the horrid cauldron boils— . The grace be—"Athole's honest men. for the little songster's nest. below. by Robert Burns Let fragrant birks. thro' a shapeless breach. like their fathers. Till full he dashes on the rocky mounds. rends. Prone down the rock the whitening sheet descends. thro' Albion's farthest ken. Written with a Pencil on the Spot. And Athole's bonie lasses! 343 Lines On The Fall Of Fyers Near Loch-Ness. To social-flowing glasses. his stream resounds. As deep recoiling surges foam below. through rising mists and ceaseless show'rs. So may old Scotia's darling hope. Your little angel band Spring. up to prop Their honour'd native land! So may. Among the heathy hills and ragged woods The roaring Fyers pours his mossy floods. My craggy cliffs adorn. wide surrounding lours: Still thro' the gap the struggling river toils. astonished. Where. And still.

Suit not my distracted mind. o'erhang my dwelling! Howling tempests.—Lang. In Heav'n itself I'll ask no more. In the cause of Right engaged. o'er me rave! Turbid torrents. Honour's war we strongly waged. But the Heavens denied success. . Strathallan fell gloriously at Culloden.] Crystal streamlets gently flowing. Busy haunts of base mankind. Claverhouse. was cause enough. Strathallan's Lament^1 Thickest night. Than just a Highland welcome. by Robert Burns 344 Epigram On Parting With A Kind Host In The Highlands When Death's dark stream I ferry o'er. Wrongs injurious to redress. wintry swelling. Western breezes softly blowing. Ruin's wheel has driven o'er us.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns." and a tour through the country where Montrose. The wide world is all before us— But a world without a friend. Not a hope that dare attend. and Prince Charles had fought. A time that surely shall come. Roaring by my lonely cave! [Footnote 1: Burns confesses that his Jacobtism was merely sentimental "except when my passions were heated by some accidental cause.

I leave the tyrant and the slave. She plants the forest. by Robert Burns 345 Castle Gordon Streams that glide in orient plains. Where waters flow and wild woods wave. Bent on slaughter. their richly gleaming waves. These. Dearest to the feeling soul. Spicy forests. ever gray.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. without control. Shading from the burning ray Hapless wretches sold to toil. blood. There immix'd with foulest stains From Tyranny's empurpled hands. Give me the stream that sweetly laves The banks by Castle Gordon. Glowing here on golden sands. Or the ruthless native's way. In that sober pensive mood. . and spoil: Woods that ever verdant wave. Never bound by Winter's chains. Nature reigns and rules the whole. Give me the groves that lofty brave The storms by Castle Gordon. pours the flood: Life's poor day I'll musing rave And find at night a sheltering cave. I leave to tyrants and their slaves. Wildly here.

honest Lucky! Lady Onlie." In comin by the brig o' Dye. honest Lucky. And cheery blinks the ingle-gleed O' Lady Onlie. Chorus." or "Roy's Wife. At Darlet we a blink did tarry." A' The lads o' Thorniebank. .Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Honest Lucky Tune—"The Ruffian's Rant. Charlie Grigor tint his plaidie. Theniel Menzies' Bonie Mary Air—"The Ruffian's Rant. We drank a health to bonie Mary. honest Lucky. &c. When they gae to the shore o' Bucky.—Theniel Menzies' bonie Mary. Theniel Menzies' bonie Mary. Chorus.—Lady Onlie. The best on a' the shore o' Bucky. As day was dawnin in the sky. by Robert Burns By bonie Castle Gordon. 346 Song—Lady Onlie. her curch sae clean I wat she is a daintie chuckie. I wish her sale for her gude ale. Her house sae bien. They'll step in an' tak a pint Wi' Lady Onlie. Brews gude ale at shore o' Bucky.

They've wrang'd the Lass of Albany. To think upon the raging sea. &c.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. And a town of fame whose princely name Should grace the Lass of Albany. In the rolling tide of spreading Clyde There sits an isle of high degree. 347 The Bonie Lass Of Albany^1 Tune—"Mary's Dream. That roars between her gardens green An' the bonie Lass of Albany. a witless youth. by Robert Burns Kissin' Theniel's bonie Mary. That fills the place where she should be. Her haffet locks as brown's a berry. alas! for her bonie face." My heart is wae. But there's a youth. But Charlie gat the spring to pay For kissin Theniel's bonie Mary. her brow sae white. Theniel Menzies' bonie Mary. We lap a' danc'd the lee-lang day. Till piper lads were wae and weary. &c. Her een sae bright. The rosy cheeks o' bonie Mary. Theniel Menzies' bonie Mary. This lovely maid's of royal blood That ruled Albion's kingdoms three. And aye they dimpl't wi' a smile. . But oh. and unco wae.

Bide the surging billow's shock. and woe the day. by Robert Burns We'll send him o'er to his native shore. Who now commands the towers and lands— The royal right of Albany. fellow-creatures.B.] 348 On Scaring Some Water-Fowl In Loch-Turit A wild scene among the Hills of Oughtertyre. A false usurper wan the gree. [Footnote 1: Natural daughter of Prince Charles Edward. And bring our ain sweet Albany. the guest of Sir William Murray. with pipe an' drum We'll welcome hame fair Albany. For me your wat'ry haunt forsake? Tell me.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Parent. On bended knees most fervently. The time may come. I lived there. Alas the day. Or. filial." —R. yature's gifts to all are free: Peaceful keep your dimpling wave. What a pity that the mere emotions of gratitude are so impotent in this world. ye tenants of the lake. and was much flattered by my hospitable reception. "This was the production of a solitary forenoon's walk from Oughtertyre House. Busy feed.. as we are told. Glenriddell MSS. beneath the sheltering rock. . 'Tis lucky that. why At my presence thus you fly? Why disturb your social joys. for two or three weeks. they will be of some avail in the world to come. or wanton lave. kindred ties?— Common friend to you and me. we'll nightly pray. We'll daily pray. Why.

on clanging wings. blushing for our race. Man. Where the mossy riv'let strays. Soon. All on Nature you depend.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Strong necessity compels: But Man. usurping foe. Or. Far from human haunts and ways. to whom alone is giv'n A ray direct from pitying Heav'n. from the cliffy brow. Glories in his heart humane— And creatures for his pleasure slain! In these savage. On the lofty ether borne. Scorn at least to be his slave. Tyrant stern to all beside. And the foe you cannot brave. In his breast no pity dwells. Swiftly seek. too soon. The eagle. if man's superior might Dare invade your native right. Man with all his pow'rs you scorn. And life's poor season peaceful spend. by Robert Burns Conscious. 349 . Other lakes and other springs. Marking you his prey below. Only known to wand'ring swains. your proud. liquid plains. your fears I trace. Would be lord of all below: Plumes himself in freedom's pride.

" Chorus. And blythe in Glenturit glen. The evening sun was ne'er sae sweet. But Phemie was the blythest lass That ever trod the dewy green. By Oughtertyre grows the aik. . blythe. blythe and merry was she. Her looks were like a flow'r in May. But Phemie was a bonier lass Than braes o' Yarrow ever saw. blythe. &c. Her smile was like a simmer morn: She tripped by the banks o' Earn. &c.] The Highland hills I've wander'd wide. As was the blink o' Phemie's e'e. a cousin of Sir William Murray of Oughtertyre.—Lang. Blythe. &c. by Robert Burns 350 Blythe Was She^1 Tune—"Andro and his Cutty Gun. And o'er the Lawlands I hae been. [Footnote 1: Written at Oughtertyre. blythe. Blythe. blythe. &c.—Blythe. As light's a bird upon a thorn. Phemie is Miss Euphemia Murray. Blythe was she but and ben. Her bonie face it was as meek As ony lamb upon a lea. On Yarrow banks the birken shaw.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Blythe. Blythe. Blythe by the banks of Earn.

sweet Rose-bud. It scents the early morning. dear bird. Awake the early morning. On trembling string or vocal air. She soon shall see her tender brood. Amang the fresh green leaves bedew'd. Shalt beauteous blaze upon the day. Cruikshank^1 Honest Will to Heaven's away . The pride. So thou. by Robert Burns 351 A Rose-Bud By My Early Walk A Rose-bud by my early walk.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. And drooping rich the dewy head. the pleasure o' the wood. Ere twice the shades o' dawn are fled. All on a dewy morning. Adown a corn-enclosed bawk. So thou. Sae early in the morning. In a' its crimson glory spread. And bless the parent's evening ray That watch'd thy early morning. young and gay. Epitaph For Mr. Sae gently bent its thorny stalk. Within the bush her covert nest A little linnet fondly prest. The dew sat chilly on her breast. W. Shall sweetly pay the tender care That tents thy early morning. young Jeany fair.

That steals on the evening each leaf to renew! O spare the dear blossom. 352 Song—The Banks Of The Devon Tune—"Bhanarach dhonn a' chruidh. His fau'ts they a' in Latin lay. In English nane e'er kent them. as it bathes in the dew. And England triumphant display her proud rose: A fairer than either adorns the green valleys. sweet Devon. And far be thou distant. by Robert Burns And mony shall lament him." How pleasant the banks of the clear winding Devon. With green spreading bushes and flow'rs blooming fair! But the boniest flow'r on the banks of the Devon Was once a sweet bud on the braes of the Ayr.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns." Where. Mild be the sun on this sweet blushing flower. In the gay rosy morn. thou reptile that seizes The verdure and pride of the garden or lawn! Let Bourbon exult in his gay gilded lilies. braving angry winter's storms. Braving Angry Winter's Storms Tune—"Neil Gow's Lament for Abercairny. meandering flows. With chill hoary wing as ye usher the dawn. ye orient breezes. Where Devon. . The lofty Ochils rise. And gentle the fall of the soft vernal shower.

" My Peggy's face. Her face so truly heavenly fair. my Peggy's form. with grim control. I love my Peggy's angel air. Might charm the first of human kind. my Peggy's mind. doubly marks it beam With art's most polish'd blaze. [Footnote 1: Of the Edinburgh High School. so void of art. Where Peggy's charms I first survey'd. The lily's hue. by Robert Burns Far in their shade my Peggy's charms First blest my wondering eyes. The kindling lustre of an eye. But I adore my Peggy's heart. Astonish'd. And blest the day and hour. As one who by some savage stream A lonely gem surveys. Her native grace. The frost of hermit Age might warm. . May seize my fleeting breath. 353 Song—My Peggy's Charms Tune—"Tha a' chailleach ir mo dheigh.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns.] Blest be the wild. the rose's dye. But tearing Peggy from my soul Must be a stronger death. My Peggy's worth. When first I felt their pow'r! The tyrant Death. sequester'd shade.

The snaws the mountains cover. And bonie Castle-Gordon! The trees. The generous purpose nobly dear. Since my young Highland rover Far wanders nations over. 354 The Young Highland Rover Tune—"Morag. And every flower be springing. Sae I'll rejoice the lee-lang day. Shall soon wi' leaves be hinging. ." Loud blaw the frosty breezes. by Robert Burns Who but owns their magic sway! Who but knows they all decay! The tender thrill. When by his mighty Warden My youth's return'd to fair Strathspey. Where'er he go. where'er he stray.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Return him safe to fair Strathspey. The birdies dowie moaning. Shall a' be blythely singing. May heaven be his warden. The gentle look that rage disarms— These are all Immortal charms. And bonie Castle-Gordon. Like winter on me seizes. the pitying tear. now naked groaning.

your Country. Owns not the lap of earth where rests his royal head! His wretched refuge. On transient pity's bounty fed. Who nobly perished in the glorious cause. Submissive.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. lighted at Heaven's high flame. (What breast of northern ice but warms!) To bold Balmerino's undying name. And distant far the faithful few Who would his sorrows share. Hope. Your King. mighty Dead. 1787^1 Afar the illustrious Exile roams. But He. by Robert Burns 355 Birthday Ode For 31st December. And owning Heaven's mysterious sway.] From great Dundee. who smiling Victory led. away! Nor think to lure us as in days of yore: We solemnize this sorrowing natal day. and her laws. Whose soul of fire. While ravening wrongs and woes pursue. And fell a Martyr in her arms. who should imperial purple wear. low adore. Deserves the proudest wreath departed heroes claim: . [Footnote 1: The last birthday of Prince Charles Edward. To prove our loyal truth—we can no more. Ye honored. An inmate in the casual shed. Haunted by busy memory's bitter tale! Beasts of the forest have their savage homes. Whom kingdoms on this day should hail. dark despair. False flatterer.

whelms the cottage in the vale. th' unsparing Power. They leave the lagging gale behind. strong. 356 . The snowy ruin smokes along With doubling speed and gathering force. So Vengeance' arm. Your blood shall. the fatal hour. Perdition. His life one poor despairing day. With murdering eyes already they devour. Their utter ruin bring.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Where each avenging hour still ushers in a worse! Such havock. It only lags. pitiless. The tools of faction. baleful child of night! Rise and revenge the injured right Of Stewart's royal race: Lead on the unmuzzled hounds of hell. Shall with resistless might assail. ensanguin'd. Their savage fury. with incessant cry. Usurping Brunswick's pride shall lay. Full on the base usurping crew. Till deep it. howling all abroad. with tenfold weight repay. a wretched prey. crushing. Till all the frighted echoes tell The blood-notes of the chase! Full on the quarry point their view. And Stewart's wrongs and yours. with thundering course. they pour. Awake at last. by Robert Burns Nor unrevenged your fate shall lie. and the nation's curse! Hark how the cry grows on the wind. As from the cliff. See Brunswick spent.

gay in hope. She sank. Of Arniston. Where. And throw on Poverty his cruel eyes. thy country ill could bear! A loss these evil days can ne'er repair! Justice. ye forests. explore the paths of men: See from his cavern grim Oppression rise. Lone on the bleaky hills the straying flocks Shun the fierce storms among the sheltering rocks. to the whistling blast and water's roar. Keen on the helpless victim see him fly. Ye howling winds. Her doubtful balance eyed. . red with dashing rains. by human ear or eye. Now. Or rebels to their King. unseen. Sad to your sympathetic glooms I fly. and ye caves. and wintry swelling waves! Unheard. O heavy loss. Esq. The gathering floods burst o'er the distant plains. Ye hills. and sway'd her rod: Hearing the tidings of the fatal blow. ye plains. Down from the rivulets. The hollow caves return a hollow moan. injuries. Wrongs. Beneath the blast the leafless forests groan. Pale Scotia's recent wound I may deplore.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Late Lord President of the Court of Session. the high vicegerent of her God. 357 On The Death Of Robert Dundas. from many a darksome den.. by Robert Burns The base apostates to their God. abandon'd to the wildest woe.

dark. He gaz'd. under the signature of "Clarinda" and entitled. Congenial scenes. 358 Sylvander To Clarinda^1 Extempore Reply to Verses addressed to the Author by a Lady. he listened to despair. rage! ye turbid torrents. View unsuspecting Innocence a prey. Love. And much-wrong'd Mis'ry pours the unpitied wail! Ye dark waste hills. Life's social haunts and pleasures I resign. On Burns saying he 'had nothing else to do. Transfixed his bosom thro' and thro'. roll! Ye suit the joyless tenor of my soul. the feebly-bursting cry: Mark Ruffian Violence. To mourn the woes my country must endure— That would degenerate ages cannot cure. from Clarinda's heavenly eyes. Be nameless wilds and lonely wanderings mine. by Robert Burns And stifle. ye soothe my mournful strains: Ye tempests. But still in Friendships' guarded guise. As guileful Fraud points out the erring way: While subtle Litigation's pliant tongue The life-blood equal sucks of Right and Wrong: Hark. . injur'd Want recounts th' unlisten'd tale. distained with crimes. First struck Sylvander's raptur'd view. For more the demon fear'd to do. ye brown unsightly plains.' When dear Clarinda. matchless fair. Alas! 'twas all he dared to do.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Rousing elate in these degenerate times.

'Twas. Clarinda. and hinted for excuse. But Anguish wrung the unweeting groan— Who blames what frantic Pain must do? That heart. the boldest mark of love. His pangs the Bard refused to own. The imp beleaguer'd all perdue. No nearer bliss he could pursue. M'Lehose. already more than lost. If human art and power could do! Then take. Was sternly still to Honour true: To prove Clarinda's fondest friend. 'cause "he'd nothing else to do. For thee that deed I dare uo do! O could the Fates but name the price Would bless me with your charms and you! With frantic joy I'd pay it thrice. [Footnote 1: A grass-widow.] The Muse his ready quill employed. 359 .Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Till passion all impatient grew: He wrote. where motley follies blend. Was what a lover sure might do. friendship's hand. For frowning Honour kept his post— To meet that frown. That bliss Clarinda cold deny'd— "Send word by Charles how you do!" The chill behest disarm'd his muse. Mrs. by Robert Burns That heart." But by those hopes I have above! And by those faults I dearly rue! The deed. he shrunk to do. Tho' half he wish'd Clarinda knew.

Nor cause me from my bosom tear The very friend I sought. Sweet Bird. And Sooth My Care For thee is laughing Nature gay. if Love must harbour there. O why that bliss destroy! Why urge the only. While Joy's a stranger to my breast. For thee she pours the vernal day. Mistress Of My Soul Clarinda. Conceal it in that thought. mistres of my soul. . Clarinda. For me in vain is Nature drest.— I'll write whatever I've to do. Go On. by Robert Burns (Friendship.) And lay no more your chill command. 360 1788 Love In The Guise Of Friendship Your friendship much can make me blest. at least. one request You know I will deny! Your thought. I may avow.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns.

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. No other light shall guide my steps. I am my mammny's ae bairn. Wi' unco folk I weary. That fill thy lovely eyes. I'm o'er young. I'm o'er young. Has blest my glorious day. his life and light. The kirk maun hae the gracing o't. sir. the fair sun of all her sex. My mammie coft me a new gown. Till thy bright beams arise! She. by Robert Burns The measur'd time is run! The wretch beneath the dreary pole So marks his latest sun. 'twad be a sin To tak me frae my mammy yet. And shall a glimmering planet fix My worship to its ray? 361 I'm O'er Young To Marry Yet Chorus. And lying in a man's bed. sir.—I'm o'er young. . I'm fley'd it mak me eerie. To what dark cave of frozen night Shall poor Sylvander hie. Depriv'd of thee. The sun of all his joy? We part—but by these precious drops. I'm o'er young. I'm o'er young to marry yet. &c.

My mither sent me to the town. gang ne'er at night. weary warpin o't Has gart me sigh and sab. &c. &c. . Fu' loud an' shill the frosty wind Blaws thro' the leafless timmer. &c. And you an' I in ae bed. fair maids.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. I'll aulder be gin simmer. I rede you right. I'm o'er young. Hallowmass is come and gane. To the weaver's gin ye go. To the weaver's. But a bonie. westlin weaver lad Has gart me change my sang. kind Sir. To warp a plaiden wab. To the weaver's gin ye go. 362 To The Weavers Gin Ye Go My heart was ance as blithe and free As simmer days were lang. &c. I'm feared ye'd spoil the lacing o't. The nights are lang in winter. sir. sir. sir.—To the weaver's gin ye go. by Robert Burns Were I to lie wi' you. Chorus. I'm o'er young. But if ye come this gate again. But the weary. I dare na venture. sir. In trowth. I'm o'er young.

But every shot and evey knock. But what was said. As my bonie. But Oh! I fear the kintra soon Will ken as weel's myself! To the weaver's. sae wantonly. &c. ye dungeons dark and strong. In every knot and thrum.—Sae rantingly. The moon was sinking in the west. My heart it gae a stoun. The wretch's destinie! M'Pherson's time will not be long On yonder gallows-tree. I sat beside my warpin-wheel. Chorus. Shame fa' me gin I tell. And aye I ca'd it roun'. westlin weaver lad Convoy'd me thro' the glen." Farewell. &c. or what was done. by Robert Burns A bonie. To the weaver's. westlin weaver lad Sat working at his loom. Wi' visage pale and wan. &c. . &c.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. He took my heart as wi' a net. To the weaver's. To the weaver's. 363 M'Pherson's Farewell Tune—"M'Pherson's Rant.

And all beneath the sky! May coward shame distain his name. O. cruel to deceive me. Sae rantingly. thou sunshine bright. Untie these bands from off my hands. &c. And there's no a man in all Scotland But I'll brave him at a word. I've liv'd a life of sturt and strife. Sae rantingly. The wretch that dares not die! Sae rantingly. And bring me to my sword. what is death but parting breath? On many a bloody plain I've dared his face. I die by treacherie: It burns my heart I must depart. and in this place I scorn him yet again! Sae rantingly. Below the gallows-tree. And not avenged be.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns." Stay my charmer. Now farewell light. He play'd a spring. &c. 364 Stay My Charmer Tune—"An gille dubh ciar-dhubh. by Robert Burns Sae dauntingly gaed he. can you leave me? Cruel. &c. &c. . and danc'd it round.

Cruel charmer. I trembled for my Hoggie. my Hoggie! My only beast. can you go! Cruel charmer. An unco tyke. And maist has kill'd my Hoggie! . The tod reply'd upon the hill. by Robert Burns Well you know how much you grieve me. And vow but I was vogie! The lee-lang night we watch'd the fauld.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. The morning it was foggie. But the houlet cry'd frau the castle wa'. By the faith you fondly plighted. and cocks did craw. By the pangs of lovers slighted. can you go! By my love so ill-requited. Do not. my pride. Amang the braes sae scroggie. do not liave me so! Do not. We heard nocht but the roaring linn. do not leave me so! 365 Song—My Hoggie What will I do gin my Hoggie die? My joy. When day did daw. The blitter frae the boggie. lap o'er the dyke. I had nae mae. Me and my faithfu' doggie.

—R. the late Earl of Loudoun. Fell despair my fancy seizes. Cheerless night that knows no morrow! "O'er the past too fondly wandering." I composed these verses on Miss Isabella M'Leod of Raza.B. 1971. Raving winds around her blowing. who shot himself out of sheer heart-break at some mortifications he suffered. thou soul of every blessing. By a river hoarsely roaring. thou gloomy night of sorrow. hours that late did measure Sunshine days of joy and pleasure. Chorus. Gladly how would I resign thee. Hail. On the hopeless future pondering. Load to misery most distressing. owing to the deranged state of his finances.—Up in the morning's no for me. The drift is driving sairly. by Robert Burns 366 Raving Winds Around Her Blowing Tune—"M'Grigor of Roro's Lament.. . Yellow leaves the woodlands strowing.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Chilly grief my life-blood freezes. Isabella stray'd deploring— "Farewell. "Life. alluding to her feelings on the death of her sister. and the still more melancholy death of her sister's husband. And to dark oblivion join thee!" Up In The Morning Early Cauld blaws the wind frae east to west. Sae loud and shill's I hear the blast— I'm sure it's winter fairly.

&c. A' day they fare but sparely. Tho' I were ne'er so weary: I sleepless lie frae e'en to morn. How can I be but eerie! And now what lands between us lie. I'm sure it's winter fairly.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. How Long And Dreary Is The Night How long and dreary is the night. Tho' I were ne'er sae weary! When I think on the happy days I spent wi' you my dearie: And now what lands between us lie. When a' the hills are covered wi' snaw. When I was wi' my dearie! 367 . How can I be but eerie! How slow ye move. ye heavy hours. by Robert Burns Up in the morning early. And lang's the night frae e'en to morn— I'm sure it's winter fairly. Up in the morning's. When I am frae my dearie! I sleepless lie frae e'en to morn. The birds sit chittering in the thorn. When I was wi' my dearie! It wasna sae ye glinted by. As ye were wae and weary! It wasna sae ye glinted by.

There was a lad that follow'd her. I wad gie my coatie For the dusty Miller. The moor was dreigh. And his dusty sack. Dusty was the kiss That I gat frae the Miller. As o'er the moor they lightly foor. The Dusty Miller Hey. Brings the dusty siller. And his dusty coat. the dusty Miller. they ca'd her Meg. by Robert Burns 368 Hey. Dusty was the colour. Leeze me on the calling Fills the dusty peck: Fills the dusty peck. They ca'd him Duncan Davison. and Meg was skeigh. Her favour Duncan could na win. And she held o'er the moors to spin.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. And aye she shook the temper-pin. Or he spend a groat: Dusty was the coat. the dusty Miller. Hey. For wi' the rock she wad him knock. . Duncan Davison There was a lass. He will win a shilling.

by Robert Burns A burn was clear. a yowe and a hauf. And thretty gude shillin's and three. and no be slain. . And flang them a' out o'er the burn. That Meg should be a bride the morn. A cow and a cauf. Chorus. and no be drunk. A man may kiss a bonie lass. Wad taste sae bitterlie. And aye be welcome back again! 369 The Lad They Ca'Jumpin John Her daddie forbad. a cotter-man's dochter. her minnie forbad Forbidden she wadna be: She wadna trow't the browst she brew'd. And we will live like king and queen. Upon the banks they eas'd their shanks. Sae blythe and merry's we will be. wee house. Then Meg took up her spinning-graith. And aye she set the wheel between: But Duncan swoor a haly aith. We will big a wee. The lang lad they ca'Jumpin John Beguil'd the bonie lassie. a glen was green. A vera gude tocher. A man may fight.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns.—The lang lad they ca'Jumpin John Beguil'd the bonie lassie. When ye set by the wheel at e'en. A man may drink.

The frost may freeze the deepest sea. by Robert Burns The lass wi' the bonie black e'e. Talk of him that's far awa. The simmer lilies bloom in snaw. to daunton me. Gaudy day to you is dear. Which divides my love and me.—To daunton me. Ye who never shed a tear. Wearying heav'n in warm devotion. Ye whom sorrow never wounded. . the curtain draw. Care—untroubled. Refrain. joy—surrounded. do thou befriend me. Whispering spirits round my pillow. Downy sleep. Talk of him that's far awa! To Daunton Me The blude-red rose at Yule may blaw. again attend me. The lang lad. For his weal where'er he be. Gentle night. Hope and Fear's alternate billow Yielding late to Nature's law. Spirits kind. &c.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. 370 Talk Of Him That's Far Awa Musing on the roaring ocean. But an auld man shall never daunton me.

Now ev'ry thing is glad. That is the thing you shall never see. &c. To daunton me. To daunton me. and me sae young. His gear may buy him kye and yowes. &c. But me he shall not buy nor fee. by Robert Burns And auld man shall never daunton me. For a' his meal and a' his maut. To daunton me. For an auld man shall never daunton me. To daunton me. and the summer comes at last And the small birds. &c. by the waters running clear. For an auld man shall never daunton me. And the rain rains down frae his red blear'd e'e. they sing on ev'ry tree. 371 The Winter It Is Past The winter it is past. . Wi' his teethless gab and his auld beld pow. For a' his gold and white monie. Since my true love is parted from me. while I am very sad. For a' his fresh beef and his saut. He hirples twa fauld as he dow. The rose upon the breer. His gear may buy him glens and knowes.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. &c. And auld men shall never daunton me. To daunton me. That auld man shall never daunton me. Wi' his fause heart and flatt'ring tongue.

The bonie lad that's far awa. When the bonie lad that I lo'e best Is o'er the hills and far awa! It's no the frosty winter wind. It's no the driving drift and snaw. But aye the tear comes in my e'e. by Robert Burns May have charms for the linnet or the bee. And Spring will cleed the birken shaw. A pair o' glooves he bought to me. and their little hearts at rest. 372 The Bonie Lad That's Far Awa O how can I be blythe and glad. But my true love is parted from me. And my young babie will be born. But I hae ane will tak my part. Or how can I gang brisk and braw. Their little loves are blest.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. And I will wear them for his sake. To think on him that's far awa. And he'll be hame that's far awa. O weary Winter soon will pass. The bonie lad that's far awa. And silken snoods he gae me twa. . My father pat me frae his door. My friends they hae disown'd me a'.

And wild scatter'd cowslips bedeck the green dale: But what can give pleasure. and his right are these valleys. Clarinda. But not to those whom we love. This humble pair of glasses: And fill them up with generous juice. "The whole of human kind!" "To those who love us!" second fill. The murmuring streamlet winds clear thro' the vale. Lest we love those who love not us— A third—"To thee and me." The small birds rejoice in the green leaves returning. Love!" The Chevalier's Lament Air—"Captain O'Kean. The deed that I dared. And Queen of Poetesses. Fair Empress of the Poet's soul. And pledge them to the generous toast. take this little boon. . Can soothe the sad bosom of joyless despair. As generous as your mind. or what can seem fair. nor flow'rs gaily springing. by Robert Burns 373 Verses To Clarinda Sent with a Pair of Wine-Glasses. could it merit their malice? A king and a father to place on his throne! His right are these hills. The primroses blow in the dews of the morning.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. When the lingering moments are numbered by care? No birds sweetly singing.

Here. tho' I can find none! But 'tis not my suff'rings. for my wonted rhyming raptures. this uncouth clime. 'tis your ruin I mourn. forlorn. Your faith proved so loyal in hot bloody trial. A land unknown to prose or rhyme. Hid in an atmosphere of reek. Jenny. thus wretched. I sit and count my sins by chapters. my Pegasean pride! Dowie she saunters down Nithside. Enhusked by a fog infernal: Here.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Except when drunk he stacher't thro' it. My brave gallant friends. . Wi' nae kenn'd face but Jenny Geddes. Nor limpit in poetic shackles: A land that Prose did never view it. For life and spunk like ither Christians. Where words ne'er cross't the Muse's heckles. ambush'd by the chimla cheek. I'm dwindled down to mere existence. a fiery kernel. And aye a westlin leuk she throws. I hear it—for in vain I leuk. I hear a wheel thrum i' the neuk.— Alas! I can make it no better return! 374 Epistle To Hugh Parker In this strange land. by Robert Burns Where the wild beasts find shelter. Wi' nae converse but Gallowa' bodies. The red peat gleams.

Ye'll find me in a better tune. Robert Burns. And sma'. For I could lay my bread and kail He'd ne'er cast saut upo' thy tail. sma' prospect of relief. when auld Phoebus bids good-morrow. Down the zodiac urge the race. Or turn the pole like any arrow. wi' cannie care." Of a' the airts the wind can blaw. Tak this excuse for nae epistle. 375 Of A' The Airts The Wind Can Blaw^1 Tune—"Miss Admiral Gordon's Strathspey. And cast dirt on his godship's face. by Robert Burns While tears hap o'er her auld brown nose! Was it for this. And nought but peat reek i' my head. Thou bure the Bard through many a shire? At howes. . And late or early never grumbled?— O had I power like inclination.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. or hillocks never stumbled. Or. twenty-fourth o' June. To canter with the Sagitarre. I'd heeze thee up a constellation. But till we meet and weet our whistle. Or loup the ecliptic like a bar.— Wi' a' this care and a' this grief. How can I write what ye can read?— Tarbolton.

I see her sweet and fair: I hear her in the tunefu' birds. By fountain. There's not a bonie bird that sings.] There's wild-woods grow.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. I'll take Cuckold frae nane. For there the bonie lassie lives. .—Lang. I hear her charm the air: There's not a bonie flower that springs. Burns was preparing a home at Ellisland. Burns was at Mossgiel. I'll borrow frae naebody. There—thanks to naebody! I hae naething to lend. Mrs. Burns in their honeymoon. or green. The lassie I lo'e best: [Footnote 1: Written during a separation from Mrs. 376 Song—I Hae a Wife O' My Ain I Hae a wife of my ain. and rivers row. I'll gie Cuckold to naebody. by Robert Burns I dearly like the west. But minds me o' my Jean. I'll partake wi' naebody. And mony a hill between: But day and night my fancys' flight Is ever wi' my Jean. I see her in the dewy flowers. shaw. I hae a penny to spend.

Be thou deckt in silken stole.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Those that would the bloom devour— . Those that sip the dew alone— Make the butterflies thy own. Thou whom chance may hither lead. Be thou clad in russet weed. Fame. Life is but a day at most. I hae a gude braid sword. I'll be slave to naebody. in darkness lost: Hope not sunshine every hour. an idle restless dream. 1788. Make content and ease thy aim. I'll tak dunts frae naebody. the tend'rest flow'r of spring. I'll be merry and free. Ambition is a meteor-gleam. Fear not clouds will always lour. by Robert Burns I am naebody's lord. Pleasures. Peace. I'll be sad for naebody. June 28th. Grave these maxims on thy soul. Happiness is but a name. insects on the wing. I care for naebody. Naebody cares for me. 377 Lines Written In Friars'-Carse Hermitage Glenriddel Hermitage. Sprung from night.

Guard wherever thou can'st guard. Writer Ellisland. 1788. save the flower. July 27th. You think the phrase is odd-like. the saints declare. by Robert Burns Crush the locusts. Stranger. do not stare. and thy example. Then surely thou art god-like. And is thy ardour still the same? And kindled still at Anna? Others may boast a partial flame. And dishonour not thy kind. give thou to air. Follies past. Cunningham. My godlike friend—nay. Welcome what thou can'st not shun. For the future be prepar'd.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. ESQ. Nithsdale. Reverence with lowly heart Him. Thy trust. go! Heaven be thy guide! Quod the Beadsman of Nidside. Make their consequence thy care: Keep the name of Man in mind. But thy utmost duly done. But thou art a volcano! Ev'n Wedlock asks not love beyond Death's tie-dissolving portal. whose wondrous work thou art. Keep His Goodness still in view. too. But God is love.. 378 To Alex. .

That last great antihectic try— Marriage perhaps may mend them.—Anna. lovely Fair. man? O wha will to Saint Stephen's House O' th' merry lads of Ayr. When fated to despair! Yet in thy presence. touching: She talks. Sweet Anna has an air—a grace." O Wha will to Saint Stephen's House. May'st promise love immortal! Thy wounds such healing powers defy. And waste my soul with care. man? . Divine. Thy Charms Anna. omnipotently fond. she charms—but who can trace The process of bewitching? 379 Song. To hope may be forgiven. The Fete Champetre Tune—"Killiecrankie. by Robert Burns But thou. magnetic. But ah! how bootless to admire.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. thy charms my bosom fire. To do our errands there. For sure 'twere impious to despair So much in sight of heaven. Such symptoms dire attend them.

The gay green woods amang. They heard the blackbird's sang. man. ane gies them wine. When Love and Beauty heard the news. on gleesome wing O'er hill and dale she flew.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Were bound to stakes like kye. man: She summon'd every social sprite. Ane gies them coin.^3 wha guessed the ladies' taste. On th' bonie banks of Ayr to meet. by Robert Burns Or will we send a man o' law? Or will we send a sodger? Or him wha led o'er Scotland a' The meikle Ursa-Major?^1 Come. That sports by wood or water. Or buy a score o'lairds.^2 man. Anither gies them clatter: Annbank. Cauld Boreas. ilk crystal spring. 380 . and busking bowers. wi' his boisterous crew. man. gathering flowers. the patent bliss. He gies a Fete Champetre. man. Their vote shall be Glencaird's. man: A vow. Ilk glen and shaw she knew. To hold a Fete Champetre. Where. Ilk wimpling burn. And keep this Fete Champetre. Then mounted Mirth. As their's alone. man? For worth and honour pawn their word. will ye court a noble lord. Sir Politics to fetter. they sealed it with a kiss.

then residing at Cloncaird or "Glencaird. he quat his name. But entrance found he nane. the winding flood. man! He circled round the magic ground. to mix And make his ether-stane. man! To Harmony's enchanting notes. [Footnote 1: James Boswell.] How many a robe sae gaily floats! What sparkling jewels glance. Clamb up the starry sky. by Robert Burns And Cynthia's car. Like Paradise did glitter. Forswore it. man: Reflected beams dwell in the streams. man: He blush'd for shame. o' silver fu'. the biographer of Dr.. To view this Fete Champetre. To hold their Fete Champetre. man.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Wi' humble prayer to join and share This festive Fete Champetre. The echoing wood. The western breeze steals thro'the trees. Or down the current shatter. at Adam's yett. every letter. Johnson. 381 . When angels met. Esq. of Annbank and Enterkin. When Politics came there.] [Footnote 2: Sir John Whitefoord. As moves the mazy dance."] [Footnote 3: William Cunninghame.

and deep divines. She form'd of various parts the various Man. With arch-alacrity and conscious glee. Her eye intent on all the mazy plan.. by Robert Burns 382 Epistle To Robert Graham. But ere she gave creating labour o'er. best work. the human mind. The flashing elements of female souls. Some spumy. Esq. Last. pronounc'd it very good. physic. she sublimes th' Aurora of the poles. Of Fintry Requesting a Favour When Nature her great master-piece design'd. And fram'd her last. Law.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. she tried one curious labour more. She kneads the lumpish philosophic dough. farmers. fiery. The order'd system fair before her stood. native sons of earth. politics. And all mechanics' many-apron'd kinds. Some other rarer sorts are wanted yet. Then marks th' unyielding mass with grave designs. Nature. and sober Worth: Thence peasants. The martial phosphorus is taught to flow. Plain plodding Industry. Half-jest. ignis fatuus matter. And merchandise' whole genus take their birth: Each prudent cit a warm existence finds. . Then first she calls the useful many forth. Such as the slightest breath of air might scatter. The lead and buoy are needful to the net: The caput mortuum of grnss desires Makes a material for mere knights and squires. well pleas'd.

But honest Nature is not quite a Turk. Longing to wipe each tear. they share as soon. And. To lay strong hold for help on bounteous Graham. unmindful of to-morrow. then felt for her poor work: Pitying the propless climber of mankind. A being form'd t' amuse his graver friends. When blest to-day. timid landsmen on life's stormy main! Their hearts no selfish stern absorbent stuff. A mortal quite unfit for Fortune's strife. She laugh'd at first. That never gives—tho' humbly takes enough. 383 . Pity the tuneful Muses' hapless train. Yet oft the sport of all the ills of life. Prone to enjoy each pleasure riches give. Unlike sage proverb'd Wisdom's hard-wrung boon: The world were blest did bliss on them depend. Admir'd and prais'd—and there the homage ends. She cast about a standard tree to find. and the only one I claim. She forms the thing and christens it—a Poet: Creature. Attach'd him to the generous. truly great: A title. Her Hogarth-art perhaps she meant to show it). to support his helpless woodbine state. The little fate allows. Weak. Ah. Yet haply wanting wherewithal to live.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. by Robert Burns (Nature may have her whim as well as we. tho' oft the prey of care and sorrow. Yet frequent all unheeded in his own. that "the friendly e'er should want a friend!" Let Prudence number o'er each sturdy son. to heal each groan.

Mark. and sentiment a fool!) Who make poor "will do" wait upon "I should"— We own they're prudent. to heaven's gates the lark's shrill song ascends. Oblige them. Yet vilest reptiles in their begging prose. Backward. Why shrinks my soul half blushing. Heaven's attribute distinguished—to bestow! Whose arms of love would grasp the human race: Come thou who giv'st with all a courtier's grace. But there are such who court the tuneful Nine— Heavens! should the branded character be mine! Whose verse in manhood's pride sublimely flows. patronise their tinsel lays— 384 . but who feels they're good? Ye wise ones hence! ye hurt the social eye! God's image rudely etch'd on base alloy! But come ye who the godlike pleasure know. But grovelling on the earth the carol ends. Friend of my life. half afraid. (Instinct's a brute. how their lofty independent spirit Soars on the spurning wing of injured merit! Seek not the proofs in private life to find Pity the best of words should be but wind! So.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. by Robert Burns Who life and wisdom at one race begun. I crave thy friendship at thy kind command. In all the clam'rous cry of starving want. Who feel by reason and who give by rule. I know thy giving hand. They dun Benevolence with shameless front. abash'd to ask thy friendly aid? I know my need. true patron of my rhymes! Prop of my dearest hopes for future times.

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Ne'er summer-sun was half sae sweet. The blissful day we twa did meet: Tho' winter wild in tempest toil'd. than crowns and globes. I dare even that last shift. plac'd by thee upon the wish'd-for height. The pie-bald jacket let me patch once more. The iron hand that breaks our band. my boon is in thy gift: That.—The Day Returns Tune—"Seventh of November. On eighteenpence a week I've liv'd before. . Or Nature aught of pleasure give. Than a' the pride that loads the tide. Where. by Robert Burns They persecute you all your future days! Ere my poor soul such deep damnation stain. I live. My horny fist assume the plough again. And crosses o'er the sultry line. When that grim foe of life below Comes in between to make us part. I trust." The day returns. Tho'. Than kingly robes. My Muse may imp her wing for some sublimer flight. my bosom burns. While joys above my mind can move. thanks to Heaven. and thee alone. man and nature fairer in her sight. Heav'n gave me more—it made thee mine! While day and night can bring delight. For thee. 385 Song. meantime.

Thy tempting lips. Or had o' Helicon my fill. at hame. I love thee. How much. Tho' I were doom'd to wander on. thy roguish een— By Heaven and Earth I love thee! By night. My Muse maun be thy bonie sel'. I couldna say. were I on Parnassus hill. The thoughts o' thee my breast inflame: And aye I muse and sing thy name— I only live to love thee. Thy waist sae jimp. That I might catch poetic skill. Till then—and then I love thee! .—O. by day. sweet Muse. by Robert Burns It breaks my bliss—it breaks my heart! 386 Song. a-field. Then come.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns." O. On Corsincon I'll glowr and spell. Were I On Parnassus Hill Tune—"My love is lost to me. I see thee dancing o'er the green. thy limbs sae clean. inspire my lay! For a' the lee-lang simmer's day I couldna sing. beyond the sun. And write how dear I love thee. how dear. Beyond the sea. Till my last weary sand was run. To sing how dear I love thee! But Nith maun be my Muse's well.

late so sprightly. Concealing the course of the dark-winding rill. by Robert Burns 387 A Mother's Lament For the Death of Her Son. How languid the scenes. In dust dishonour'd laid. By cruel hands the sapling drops. the meadows are brown. The mother-linnet in the brake Bewails her ravish'd young. Lament the live-day long. Fate gave the word. appear! As Autumn to Winter resigns the pale year. The forests are leafless. So I. My age's future shade. the arrow sped. do thou kindly lay me low With him I love. oft I've feared thy fatal blow.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. at rest! The Fall Of The Leaf The lazy mist hangs from the brow of the hill. I bare my breast. O. for my lost darling's sake. Death. And all the gay foppery of summer is flown: . And with him all the joys are fled Life can to me impart. And pierc'd my darling's heart. So fell the pride of all my hopes. fond. Now.

How foolish. And in her breast enthrone me. What ties cruel Fate. by Robert Burns Apart let me wander. how darken'd. in ilka part o' thee. how pain'd! Life is not worth having with all it can give— For something beyond it poor man sure must live. in my bosom has torn. Altho' thy beauty and thy grace Might weel awauk desire. Jean. 388 I Reign In Jeanie's Bosom Louis. what reck I by thee. I disown ye! It Is Na. Kings and nations—swith awa'! Reif randies. how keen Fate pursues! How long I have liv'd—but how much liv'd in vain. Or Geordie on his ocean? Dyvor. Something. . thy bonie face. To praise. How quick Time is flying. to love. apart let me muse. How little of life's scanty span may remain.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. But dear as is thy form to me. beggar louns to me. or worse. till our summit is gain'd! And downward. Thy Bonie Face It is na. Nor shape that I admire. how weaken'd. What aspects old Time in his progress has worn. I reign in Jeanie's bosom! Let her crown my love her law. I find. Jean.

&c. And never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot. . if heaven shall give But happiness. Content am I. At least to see thee blest. my dear.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. to thee. For thee I'd bear to die. But we've wander'd mony a weary fit. And as wi' thee I'd wish to live. For auld lang syne. And pou'd the gowans fine. Than.—For auld lang syne. Nor stronger in my breast. Sin' auld lang syne. We twa hae run about the braes. We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet. 389 Auld Lang Syne Should auld acquaintance be forgot. by Robert Burns Still dearer is thy mind. For auld lang syne. if I canna make thee sae. For auld. Nae mair ungenerous wish I hae. And surely ye'll be your pint stowp! And surely I'll be mine! And we'll tak a cup o'kindness yet. For auld lang syne. And auld lang syne! Chorus.

The boat rocks at the pier o' Leith. A service to my bonie lassie. The glittering spears are ranked ready: The shouts o' war are heard afar. The ship rides by the Berwick-law. the banners fly.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. my trusty fere! And gie's a hand o' thine! And we'll tak a right gude-willie waught. Frae morning sun till dine. For auld lang syne. &c. And fill it in a silver tassie. For auld. It's not the roar o' sea or shore. For auld. &c. We twa hae paidl'd in the burn. 390 My Bonie Mary Go. The battle closes deep and bloody. That I may drink before I go. And there's a hand. &c. And I maun leave my bonie Mary. by Robert Burns For auld. Wad mak me langer wish to tarry! Nor shouts o' war that's heard afar— . fetch to me a pint o' wine. The trumpets sound. Fu' loud the wind blaws frae the Ferry. But seas between us braid hae roar'd Sin' auld lang syne.

Dearest tie of young connections. Adieu's last action. dumb confession. virgin kiss! Speaking silence.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. and infant's play. What words can ever speak affection So thrilling and sincere as thine! Written In Friar's-Carse Hermitage On Nithside Thou whom chance may hither lead. (Lingering lips must now disjoin). Fear not clouds will always lour. Love's first snowdrop. Glowing dawn of future day! Sorrowing joy. Life is but a day at most. chaste concession. Sprung from night. Dove-like fondness. Passion's birth. Tenderest pledge of future bliss. . by Robert Burns It's leaving thee. Grave these counsels on thy soul. Be thou clad in russet weed. Be thou deckt in silken stole. Hope not sunshine ev'ry hour.—in darkness lost. As Youth and Love with sprightly dance. my bonie Mary! 391 The Parting Kiss Humid seal of soft affections.

and heard. There ruminate with sober thought.—Arth thou high or low? Did thy fortune ebb or flow? Did many talents gild thy span? Or frugal Nature grudge thee one? Tell them. Life's meridian flaming nigh. The grand criterion of his fate. elate. Saws of experience. As thy day grows warm and high. Evils lurk in felon wait: Dangers. bold. and sip it up. Soar around each cliffy hold! While cheerful Peace. Seek the chimney-nook of ease. man's true. As life itself becomes disease. and wrought. Is not.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. As the shades of ev'ning close. Beck'ning thee to long repose. by Robert Burns Beneath thy morning star advance. Then raptur'd sip. and press it on their mind. 392 . On all thou'st seen. genuine estimate. Let Prudence bless Enjoyment's cup. sage and sound: Say. And teach the sportive younkers round. eagle-pinioned. with linnet song. Dost thou spurn the humble vale? Life's proud summits wouldst thou scale? Check thy climbing step. Pleasure with her siren air May delude the thoughtless pair. Chants the lowly dells among.

kings defend. controul devour. The peopled fold thy kindly care have found. future no more. and base. creep To the bed of lasting sleep. guards his cell. Nature. The horned bull. and wise— There solid self-enjoyment lies. To virtue or to Vice is giv'n. to be just.— Sleep. Night. That foolish. The puny wasp. Say. the snail his shell. by Robert Burns As thou thyself must shortly find. where dawn shall never break. tremendous. victorious.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. 393 The Poet's Progress A Poem In Embryo Thou. I arraign. selfish. . partial Nature. go! Heav'n be thy guide! Quod the Beadsman of Nithside. Of thy caprice maternal I complain. To light and joy the good restore. The smile or frown of awful Heav'n. whence thou shalt ne'er awake. faithless ways Lead to be wretched. To light and joy unknown before. and kind. The lordly lion has enough and more. spurns the ground. Thou giv'st the ass his hide. Thus resign'd and quiet. Thy minions. Stranger. The forest trembles at his very roar. vile. Till future life.

Bloody dissectors. they mangle to expose: By blockhead's daring into madness stung. evil's root: The silly sheep that wanders wild astray. But O thou cruel stepmother and hard. and are secure: Toads with their poison. are snug: E'en silly women have defensive arts. And half an idiot too. Is not more friendless. alas! not Amalthea's horn: No nerves olfact'ry. And those. worse than ten Monroes. Foil'd. His well-won ways—than life itself more dear— By miscreants torn who ne'er one sprig must wear. bleeding. more helpless still: No heels to bear him from the op'ning dun. No claws to dig. The cit and polecat stink. He hacks to teach. grub sagacious. the Bard! A thing unteachable in worldly skill. The priest and hedgehog. To thy poor fenceless. Or grunting. in their robes. Those cut-throat bandits in the paths of fame. doctors with their drug. Critics! appll'd I venture on the name. 394 . naked child. His heart by wanton. his hated sight to shun: No horns. is not more a prey. but those by luckless Hymen worn. tortur'd in th' unequal strife. And viper—critics cureless venom dart. Vampyre—booksellers drain him to the heart. by Robert Burns In all th' omnipotence of rule and power: Foxes and statesmen subtle wiles ensure. Their eyes. true to Mammon's foot.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. their tongues—and nameless other parts. causeless malice wrung.

tripping wight. Learn'd "vive la bagatelle et vive l'amour. Much specious lore. hoary locks. unprotected age. Low-sunk in squalid. by inches you must tell. Dead even resentment for his injur'd page. tart. wild-staring. thatch'd A head. Still making work his selfish craft must mend. His grisly beard just bristling in its might— 'Twas four long nights and days from shaving-night." So travell'd monkeys their grimace improve. Better than e'er the fairest she he meets. * * * Crochallan came. Till. a busy fiend. His uncomb'd. A little upright. unmatch'd. And fled each Muse that glorious once inspir'd. So by some hedge the generous steed deceas'd. Polish their grin—nay. 395 . sigh for ladies' love! His meddling vanity. By toil and famine worn to skin and bone. Lies. by Robert Burns The hapless Poet flounces on through life. senseless of each tugging bitch's son. fled each hope that once his bosom fired. Who loves his own smart shadow in the streets. pert. His solid sense. the brown surtout—the same. And still his precious self his dear delight. (Veneering oft outshines the solid wood). He heeds no more the ruthless critics' rage. For half-starv'd.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. snarling curs a dainty feast. for thought profound and clear. he made his tour. The old cock'd hat. but little understood. But mete his cunning by the Scottish ell! A man of fashion too.

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. they darkling grope. portion of the truly blest! Calm. O Dulness. With sober. heavy. And just conclude that "fools are Fortune's care:" So. benevolent and good. When. sage hern thus easy picks his frog. tho' his caustic wit was biting-rude. Strong on the sign-post stands the stupid ox. shelter'd haven of eternal rest! Thy sons ne'er madden in the fierce extremes Of Fortune's polar frost. If mantling high she fills the golden cup. Conscious the bounteous meed they well deserve. His heart was warm. is gane to wreck! . passive to the tempest's shocks. In equanimity they never dwell. sirs. By turns in soaring heaven. When disappointment snaps the thread of Hope. Not so the idle Muses' mad-cap train. E'en let them die—for that they're born: But oh! prodigious to reflec'! A Towmont. And thinks the mallard a sad worthless dog. thro' disastrous night. by Robert Burns Yet. Not such the workings of their moon-struck brain. With deaf endurance sluggishly they bear. or vaulted hell! 396 Elegy On The Year 1788 For lords or kings I dinna mourn. or torrid beams. They only wonder "some folks" do not starve! The grave. selfish ease they sip it up.

What dire events hae taken place! Of what enjoyments thou hast reft us! In what a pickle thou has left us! The Spanish empire's tint a head. Observe the very nowt an' sheep. O Eighty-nine. a bluidy devil. in thy sma' space. The tane is game. by Robert Burns O Eighty-eight. And 'tween our Maggie's twa wee cocks. and mony a peck. I hope. How dowff an' daviely they creep. But to the hen-birds unco civil. In Eighty-eight. The tither's something dour o' treadin. An' no owre auld. And my auld teethless. ye ken. was taen. For E'nburgh wells are grutten dry. For some o' you hae tint a frien'. even the yirth itsel' does cry. Bawtie's dead: The tulyie's teugh 'tween Pitt and Fox. come mount the poupit. for little feck! Ye bonie lasses. thou's but a bairn. E'en monc a plack.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. he wished you weel. to learn! Thou beardless boy. Nay. What ye'll ne'er hae to gie again. Ye ministers. For Eighty-eight. But better stuff ne'er claw'd a middin. I pray tak care. dight your e'en. Thou now hast got thy Daddy's chair. An' cry till ye be hearse an' roupit. An' gied ye a' baith gear an' meal. Ye ken yoursels. 397 .

by Robert Burns Nae handcuff'd. honest man! As muckle better as you can. Who dreads a curtain lecture worse than hell. the poorest wretch in life. 1. sinless quite of brain and soul. But. 1789. his dear friend's secrets tell. pure. Were such the wife had fallen to my part. Who must to he. Who has not sixpence but in her possession. . A head. mizl'd. He looked just as your sign-post Lions do. I'd break her spirit or I'd break her heart. a full free agent. Be sure ye follow out the plan Nae waur than he did. and quite as harmless too. and kick the perverse bitch. High as they hang with creaking din. The crouching vassal to a tyrant wife! Who has no will but by her high permission.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. 398 The Henpecked Husband Curs'd be the man. To index out the Country Inn. Versicles On Sign-Posts His face with smile eternal drest. I'd charm her with the magic of a switch. like himsel. hap-shackl'd Regent. With aspect fierce. Just like the Landlord's to his Guest's. January. I'd kiss her maids.

Fient a heuk had I. I gaed up to Dunse. Fient haet he had but three Guse-feathers and a whittle! Robin shure. . when well preserv'd. And looks. Play'd me sic a trick. and wears a wig. Wha met me but Robin: Robin shure. &c. It shews a human face. Was na Robin bauld. Robin promis'd me A' my winter vittle. An' me the El'er's dochter! Robin shure.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. amazing big. Tho' I was a cotter. At his daddie's yett. Yet I stack by him. &c. &c. 399 1789 Robin Shure In Hairst Chorus. To warp a wab o' plaiden. by Robert Burns The very image of a barber's Poll.—Robin shure in hairst. I shure wi' him.

'Tis thy trusty quondam Mate. Doom'd to share thy fiery fate. Baited with many a deadly curse? Strophe View the wither'd Beldam's face. unwilling. but never gave: Keeper of Mammon's iron chest. She goes. 'tis rheum o'erflows. Who in widow-weeds appears. hither bends? No fallen angel. tardy.) Seest thou whose step. Sacred To The Memory Of Mrs. ye torturing fiends. hell-ward plies. hurl'd from upper skies. unpitied and unblest. there she goes. Epode And are they of no more avail. by Robert Burns 400 Ode. Noosing with care a bursting purse. See these hands ne'er stretched to save. but not to realms of everlasting rest! Antistrophe Plunderer of Armies! lift thine eyes. Can thy keen inspection trace Aught of Humanity's sweet. Laden with unhonour'd years. Ten thousand glittering pounds a-year? . Oswald Of Auchencruive Dweller in yon dungeon dark. (A while forbear. Hands that took.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. She. Hangman of creation! mark. Lo. Pity's flood there never rose. melting grace? Note that eye.

and goes to Heaven. And did Sol's business in a crack. Poor slipshod giddy Pegasus Was but a sorry walker. weary flying. To get a frosty caulker. While down the wretched Vital Part is driven! The cave-lodged Beggar. Through frosty hills the journey lay.with a conscience clear. My Pegasus is poorly shod. by Robert Burns Ten thousand glittering pounds a-year? In other worlds can Mammon fail. unknown. Ye Vulcan's sons of Wanlockhead. . Obliging Vulcan fell to work. Threw by his coat and bonnet. Sol paid him with a sonnet. 401 Pegasus At Wanlockhead With Pegasus upon a day. Expires in rags. Apollo. To Vulcan then Apollo goes. Omnipotent as he is here! O. On foot the way was plying. bitter mockery of the pompous bier.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Pity my sad disaster. I'll pay you like my master.

unpitied. o'erpays them all! Mild zephyrs waft thee to life's farthest shore. and bid me fear. on wings of Love. I rise— I know its worst. A welcome inmate at their homely fare. my sighs. hated. wrong'd. The mock'd quotation of the scorner's jest! Ev'n the poor support of my wretched life. No friendly face e'er lights my squalid cot. and think it mine! "I burn." Now raving-wild. and can that worst despise. Let Prudence' direst bodements on me fall. Nor think of me and my distress more. I curse that fatal night. little trace: For that dear trace the world I would resign: O let me live. Oft grateful for my very daily bread To those my family's once large bounty fed. Then bless the hour that charm'd my guilty sight: . my woes. and die.— Falsehood accurst! No! still I beg a place. rich reward. My griefs. The fashioned marble of the polished mind). Shunn'd. unredrest. Snatched by the violence of legal strife. with decorous sneer. Point out a censuring world. Above the world. In vain would Prudence. Still near thy heart some little. as when thro' ripen'd corn By driving winds the crackling flames are borne. neglected and forgot.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. my tears they share: (Their vulgar souls unlike the souls refin'd. I burn. by Robert Burns 402 Sappho Redivivus—A Fragment By all I lov'd. M[ontgomer]y.

were ever half so dear! 403 Song—She's Fair And Fause She's fair and fause that causes my smart. She's broken her vow. I dare not combat. A woman has't by kind. To this be never blind. By all on high adoring mortals know! By all the conscious villain fears below! By your dear self!—the last great oath I swear. I lo'ed her meikle and lang. But Woman is but warld's gear. And I hae tint my dearest dear. his vanquish'd foes. nor soul. and reigns alone. they groan. Love grasps her scorpions—stifled they expire! Reason drops headlong from his sacred throne. And I may e'en gae hang. . by Robert Burns In vain the laws their feeble force oppose. Chain'd at Love's feet. Your dear idea reigns. Nae ferlie 'tis tho' fickle she prove. Sae let the bonie lass gang.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. And riots wanton in forbidden fields. but I turn and fly: Conscience in vain upbraids th' unhallow'd fire. Whae'er ye be that woman love. Not life. Each thought intoxicated homage yields. A coof cam in wi' routh o' gear. In vain Religion meets my shrinking eye. she's broken my heart.

I'll boldly pronounce they are none. the Reviewers. 'Twad been o'er meikle to gi'en thee mair— I mean an angel mind. 404 Impromptu Lines To Captain Riddell On Returning a Newspaper. With little admiring or blaming. Would to God I had one Like a beam of the sun. Your News and Review. Woman fair! An angel form's faun to thy share. And then all the world. sir. the Poet. My goose-quill too rude is To tell all your goodness Bestow'd on your servant. But of meet or unmeet. The Papers are barren Of home-news or foreign. Those chippers and hewers. sir. No murders or rapes worth the naming. I've read through and through. sir. by Robert Burns O Woman lovely. sir. sir. should know it! . In a fabric complete. Are judges of mortar and stone.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Our friends.

Esq. Because thy joy in both would be To share them with a friend. the chief of her line. As I this trifle send. your kindness. Though 'twere wi' royal Geordie: And trowth. but old Time wasythen young. soon and late. Burns. That brave Caledonia. From some of your northern deities sprung. Then take what gold could never buy— An honest bard's esteem. at ony time or tide. Rhyming Reply To A Note From Captain Riddell Dear. (Who knows not that brave Caledonia's divine?) . Of Drumlanrig Sent with some of the Author's Poems.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. by Robert Burns 405 Lines To John M'Murdo. But golden sands did never grace The Heliconian stream. Ellisland. Gow. There was once a day. Sir. O could I give thee India's wealth. Caledonia—A Ballad Tune—"Caledonian Hunts' Delight" of Mr. I'd rather sit wi' you than ride. Aft gars me to mysel' look blate— The Lord in Heav'n reward ye! R.

He learned to fear in his own native wood.— "Whoe'er shall provoke thee. A lambkin in peace. To hunt. They darken'd the air. disquiet. The fell Harpy-raven took wing from the north. And pledg'd her their godheads to warrant it good. To feed her fair flocks by her green rustling corn. The scourge of the seas. or to pasture. th' encounter shall rue!" With tillage or pasture at times she would sport. 406 . Oft prowling. The daring invaders they fled or they died. and they plunder'd the land: Their pounces were murder. Provok'd beyond bearing. at last she arose. They'd conquer'd and ruin'd a world beside. successive. The Cameleon-Savage disturb'd her repose. And robb'd him at once of his hopes and his life: The Anglian lion. Long quiet she reigned. and terror their cry. ensanguin'd the Tweed's silver flood. But. With tumult. by Robert Burns From Tweed to the Orcades was her domain. The pride of her kindred. the hounds and the horn. Her darling amusement. and her arrows let fly. till thitherward steers A flight of bold eagles from Adria's strand: Repeated. the terror of France. and the dread of the shore.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. and strife. the heroine grew: Her grandsire. But chiefly the woods were her fav'rite resort. for many long years. She took to her hills. but a lion in war. triumphantly swore. old Odin. taught by the bright Caledonian lance. or do what she would: Her heav'nly relations there fixed her reign. rebellion.

I'll prove it from Euclid as clear as the sun: Rectangle—triangle. Taint thee with untimely blights! Never. But brave Caledonia in vain they assail'd. Never baleful stellar lights. unconquer'd. never reptile thief Riot on thy virgin leaf! . she'll match them. independent. by Robert Burns The wild Scandinavian boar issued forth To wanton in carnage and wallow in gore: O'er countries and kingdoms their fury prevail'd. presented to her by the Author. No arts could appease them. and Loncartie tell. the figure we'll chuse: The upright is Chance. As Largs well can witness. Then. Blooming in thy early May.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. 407 To Miss Cruickshank A very Young Lady Written on the Blank Leaf of a Book. young and gay. ergo. and free. lovely flower. and old Time is the base. Her bright course of glory for ever shall run: For brave Caledonia immortal must be. Beauteous Rosebud. Never Eurus' pois'nous breath. But brave Caledonia's the hypothenuse. and match them always. Chilly shrink in sleety shower! Never Boreas' hoary path. Thus bold. Never may'st thou. no arms could repel.

Shed thy dying honours round. But love enslaves the man: . Richly deck thy native stem. Till some ev'ning. sweet crimson gem. 408 Beware O' Bonie Ann Ye gallants bright. The captive bands may chain the hands. Your heart she will trepan: Her een sae bright. Her comely face sae fu' o' grace. amid the dirgeful sound. Grace. like stars by night. Youth. calm. Dropping dews. And ev'ry bird thy requiem sings. Thou. by Robert Burns Nor even Sol too fiercely view Thy bosom blushing still with dew! May'st thou long. and conquering arms. Beware o' bonie Ann. Sae jimply lac'd her genty waist. and Love attendant move. And resign to parent Earth The loveliest form she e'er gave birth.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Her skin sae like the swan. While all around the woodland rings. and breathing balm. sober. And pleasure leads the van: In a' their charms. They wait on bonie Ann. I rede you right. That sweetly ye might span.

profound. Whether thy airy. Or under-ground. Among the demons of the earth. Or in the uncreated Void.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. I rede you a'. Hear. With groans that make the mountains shake. 1789) Daughter of Chaos' doting years. hear! thy presence I invoke! By a Monarch's heaven-struck fate. By a disunited State. By a generous Prince's wrongs. With lessen'd step thou wander wide. Fond recollect what once thou wast: In manner due. Spirit. . monster-mass is past. blighted birth. And as each jarring. insubstantial shade (The rights of sepulture now duly paid) Spread abroad its hideous form On the roaring civil storm. Deafening din and warring rage Factions wild with factions wage. deep-sunk. Where seeds of future being fight. by Robert Burns Ye gallants braw. To greet thy Mother—Ancient Night. beneath this sacred oak. Thou mourn thy ill-starr'd. Nurse of ten thousand hopes and fears. Beware o' bonie Ann! 409 Ode On The Departed Regency Bill (March.

By days few and evil. eventful fate. to the world of man relate The story of thy sad. Louring on the changing tide. By a Premier's sullen pride. by Robert Burns By a Senate's strife of tongues.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Wealth. Confusion may the regent-sceptre wield. order exil'd from his native sway. (Their hell abhorred. And call presumptuous Hope to hear And bid him check his blind career. 410 . never to despair! Paint Charles' speed on wings of fire. While all would rule and none obey: Go. thou ghastly Power! Nor. (Thy portion. grim with chained defiance. lour: No Babel-structure would I build Where. by all they fear. And tell the sore-prest sons of Care. and Show. poor devil!) By Power. Never. blasphemy and law. By the harlot-caresses Of borough addresses. By dread Thurlow's powers to awe Rhetoric. By the turbulent ocean— A Nation's commotion. (The Gods by men adored. Hear! and appear! Stare not on me.) By nameless Poverty.) By all they hope.

Eclipsing sad a gay. Your brightest hopes may fail. despairing fiends is borne: Paint ruin. While proud Ambition to th' untimely tomb By gnashing. See Day. ye Sons of Men! (Thus ends thy moral tale. rejoicing morn. like Lucifer. And clam'rous hell yawns for her prey below: How fallen That. the fates behind him press. Beyond his boldest hopes. no more to rise! Again pronounce the powerful word. But just as hopes to warm enjoyment rise. restored. See how unfurled the parchment ensigns fly. In vain he struggles. triumphant from the night. whose pride late scaled the skies! And This. 411 . Cry Convalescence! and the vision flies.) Your darkest terrors may be vain. Then know this truth.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Hark how they lift the joy-elated voice! And who are these that equally rejoice? Jews. at hand: Paint all the triumph of the Portland Band. And Principal and Interest all the cry! And how their num'rous creditors rejoice. in the shape of high D[undas] Gaping with giddy terror o'er the brow. by Robert Burns The object of his fond desire. grim. Then next pourtray a dark'ning twilight gloom. what a motley crew! The iron tears their flinty cheeks bedew. Gentiles.

My shins. But. Perusing Bunyan. to common sense appealing. and brither sinner. That's like to blaw a body blind? For me. My dearest member nearly dozen'd. friend! I charge you strictly. hark ye. How's a' the folk about Glenconner? How do you this blae eastlin wind. I there sit roastin'. Till by an' by. Twa sage philosophers to glimpse on. An' Reid. Philosophers have fought and wrangled. An' meikle Greek an' Latin mangled. What wives and wabsters see and feel. by Johnie Simson. Till wi' their logic-jargon tir'd. I'll grunt a real gospel-groan: Already I begin to try it. Smith. by Robert Burns 412 Epistle To James Tennant Of Glenconner Auld comrade dear. my lane. And in the depth of science mir'd. When by the gun she tumbles o'er Flutt'ring an' gasping in her gore: . my faculties are frozen. Brown. To common sense they now appeal.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. To cast my e'en up like a pyet. if I haud on. I've sent you here. an' return them quickly: For now I'm grown sae cursed douce I pray and ponder butt the house. an' Boston. Peruse them. wi' his sympathetic feeling.

Just five-and-forty years thegither! And no forgetting wabster Charlie. Preacher Willie. Wi' hale breeks. But to grant a maidenhead's the devil. remember singing Sannock. His worthy fam'ly far and near. The manly tar. I sen' it. If he's a parent. I'm tauld he offers very fairly. an' a bannock! And next. God bless them a' wi' grace and gear! My auld schoolfellow. A burning an' a shining light. wi' chiels be cautious. May he be dad. My heart-warm love to guid auld Glen. my auld acquaintance. An' views beyond the grave comfort him. they'll aiblins fin' them fashious. 413 . And Auchenbay. faith. For. My kindest. my mason-billie. and Meg the mither. The ace an' wale of honest men: When bending down wi' auld grey hairs Beneath the load of years and cares. best respects. An' her kind stars hae airted till her gA guid chiel wi' a pickle siller. To cousin Kate. Nancy. I wish him joy. lass or boy. May He who made him still support him. To grant a heart is fairly civil. by Robert Burns Sae shortly you shall see me bright.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. an' sister Janet: Tell them. Since she is fitted to her fancy. saxpence. An' Lord. frae me.

even for the King His restoration. on every hand. for yoursel. and mony a drink. Like an o'erflowing river. They set their heads together. 414 A New Psalm For The Chapel Of Kilmarnock On the Thanksgiving-Day for His Majesty's Recovery. They set their heads together. on left. an' joy be wi' you: For my sake. Make.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. him just an honest man. Ye'll fin. all and every one. Jamie. Now fare ye weel. before you see heaven's glory. said they. A joyful noise. Sae I conclude. by Robert Burns An' lastly. Mony a laugh. An' steer you seven miles south o' hell: But first. Assist poor Simson a' ye can. let us sweep them off. . O sing a new song to the Lord. Your's. Come. I say. saint or sinner. The sons of Belial in the land Did set their heads together. Rob the Ranter. And aye eneugh o' needfu' clink. this I beg it o' you. On right. May ye get mony a merry story. May guardian angels tak a spell. and quat my chanter.

For she by tribulations Is now brought very low. Yet they. Pity our Kirk also. For so thou hadst appointed. Consume that high-place. The judge that's mighty in thy law. The man that fears thy name. accept our song. And now thou hast restored our State.^1 Now hear our prayer. Thou kens we get as little. William M'Gill of Ayr. Began to faint and fail: Even as two howling. among the Princes chief In our Jerusalem. Th' ungodly o'er the just prevail'd. And fight thy chosen's battle: We seek but little. That thou might'st greater glory give Unto thine own anointed. Thou madest strong two chosen ones To quell the Wicked's pride. And him. great in Issachar. Patronage. Lord. The burden-bearing tribe. ravenous wolves To dogs do turn their tail. with all their strength. [Footnote 1: Dr. from thee. And in thy fury burn the book— Even of that man M'Gill. From off thy holy hill. even they. That Young Man.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. whose "Practical 415 . by Robert Burns We saw none to deliver.

and fancies so bright. like th' old Hebrew walking-switch. the critics. and with judgment so strong. mix. misbegot son of the Muses. Good Lord. and unite. first of our wits. Do but try to develop his hooks and his crooks. On his one ruling passion Sir Pope hugely labours. his good and his evil. Yet whose parts and acquirements seem just lucky hits. How Virtue and Vice blend their black and their white. eats up its neighbours: . reconciles contradiction. offers fifty excuses. J. I sing: If these mortals. With his depths and his shallows. what is Man! for as simple he looks. by Robert Burns Essay on the Death of Jesus Christ" led to a charge of heresy against him. should bustle. For using thy name. not I—let the Critics go whistle! But now for a Patron whose name and whose glory. How Genius. I care not.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. th' illustrious father of fiction. At once may illustrate and honour my story. C. Confounds rule and law.—Lang. How wisdom and Folly meet. No man with the half of 'em e'er could go wrong. 351). poor. That. With knowledge so vast. No man with the half of 'em e'er could go right. Burns took up his cause in "The Kirk of Scotland's Alarm" (p. A sorry. With passions so potent. All in all he's a problem must puzzle the devil.] 416 Sketch In Verse Inscribed to the Right Hon. Fox. Thou first of our orators.

out-thieve him! 417 . He'd up the back stairs. For. ne'er deign to peruse: Will you leave your justings. or the depth of the plan. Your courage. and by God. Nor even two different shades of the same. believe your poor poet.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. and your quarrels. he would steal 'em. And think human nature they truly describe. Contending with Billy for proud-nodding laurels? My much-honour'd Patron. you show it: In vain with Squire Billy for laurels you struggle: He'll have them by fair trade. spite of his fine theoretic positions. whatever relation they claim. But truce with abstraction. in rearing so beauteous a system. Have you found this. As by one drunken fellow his comrades you'll find. But such is the flaw. Some sort all our qualities each to its tribe. One trifling particular. What pity. and truce with a Muse Whose rhymes you'll perhaps. It is not. No two virtues. would you know him? Pull the string. Possessing the one shall imply you've the other. your jars. Mankind is a science defies definitions. much more than your prudence. out-do him—the task is. should have miss'd him. Truth. by Robert Burns Mankind are his show-box—a friend. Ruling Passion the picture will show him. if not. or t'other? There's more in the wind. Though like as was ever twin brother to brother. In the make of that wonderful creature called Man. Sir. Then feats like Squire Billy's you ne'er can achieve 'em. he will smuggle: Not cabinets even of kings would conceal 'em.

May never pity soothe thee with a sigh. Burns. and mourn thy hapless fate. The cold earth with thy bloody bosom prest. The playful pair crowd fondly by thy side. or hail the cheerful dawn. poor wand'rer of the wood and field! The bitter little that of life remains: No more the thickening brakes and verdant plains To thee a home. &c. by Robert Burns 418 The Wounded Hare Inhuman man! curse on thy barb'rous art. Printer—If the productions of a simple ploughman can merit a place in the same paper with Sylvester Otway. or food. your insertion of the enclosed trifle will be succeeded by future communications from —Yours. And blasted be thy murder-aiming eye.—Mr. Delia. No more of rest. musing. Perhaps a mother's anguish adds its woe. or pastime yield. R. An Ode "To the Editor of The Star. I'll miss thee sporting o'er the dewy lawn. but now thy dying bed! The sheltering rushes whistling o'er thy head. near Dumfries. some place of wonted rest.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns.. Ah! helpless nurslings. Nor ever pleasure glad thy cruel heart! Go live. 18th May. wait The sober eve. who will now provide That life a mother only can bestow! Oft as by winding Nith I. mangled wretch. Seek. 1789. . And curse the ruffian's aim. and the other favourites of the Muses who illuminate the Star with the lustre of genius." Fair the face of orient day. Ellisland.

" When rosy May comes in wi' flowers. When purple morning starts the hare To steal upon her early fare. For Oh! my soul is parch'd with love. on thy balmy lips Let me. The flower-enamour'd busy bee The rosy banquet loves to sip. busy are his hours. But. Then busy. More lovely far her beauty shows. Sweet the lark's wild warbled lay. more delightful still. But fairer still my Delia dawns. But. Delia. green-spreading bowers. The merry bards are lovers a'. Sweet the streamlet's limpid lapse To the sun-brown'd Arab's lip. Steal thine accents on mine ear. 419 The Gard'ner Wi' His Paidle Tune—"The Gardener's March. Sweet the tinkling rill to hear. . rove. by Robert Burns Fair the tints of op'ning rose. The scented breezes round him blaw— The Gard'ner wi' his paidle. no vagrant insect. Delia.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. To deck her gay. O let me steal one liquid kiss. The Gard'ner wi' his paidle. The crystal waters gently fa'.

. expiring in the west.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. With love and sleep opprest. Who for her favour oft had sued. Her tender limbs embrace. still as she fragrant breath'd. The springing lilies. When Willie. wand'ring thro' the wood. It richer dyed the rose. He gaz'd. When day. He flies to her arms he lo'es the best. light-waving in the breeze. The youthful. His bosom ill at rest. He gaz'd. in a summer day. by Robert Burns Then thro' the dews he maun repair— The Gard'ner wi' his paidle. he blush'd. Were seal'd in soft repose. he wish'd He fear'd. 420 On A Bank Of Flowers On a bank of flowers. And trembled where he stood. The Gard'ner wi' his paidle. Wild-wanton kissed her rival breast. He mear'd. The curtain draws o' Nature's rest. like weapons sheath'd. Her robes. Her closed eyes. Her lip. blooming Nelly lay. sweetly prest. he blush'd. he wish'd. For summer lightly drest.

On fear-inspired wings. Fu' blythe he whistled at the gaud. So Nelly. In a' our town or here awa. Away affrighted springs. When ne'er a body heard or saw. And sigh'd his very soul. thro' frost and snaw: . by Robert Burns Her lovely form. ardent kiss he stole. 421 Young Jockie Was The Blythest Lad Young Jockie was the blythest lad. he blush'd. A faltering. he wish'd. starting. Tumultuous tides his pulses roll. He roos'd my een sae bonie blue. An' aye my heart cam to my mou'. half-awake.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. My Jockie toils upon the plain. he pray'd. He vow'd. He roos'd my waist sae genty sma'. But Willie follow'd—as he should. He gaz'd. Fu' lightly danc'd he in the ha'. Thro' wind and weet. He found the maid Forgiving all. her native ease. He overtook her in the wood. As flies the partridge from the brake. He fear'd. All harmony and grace. and good.

Where Comyns ance had high command. When shall I see that honour'd land. When in his arms he taks me a'. Where lambkins wanton through the broom. ever keep me here! How lovely. And sweetly spread thy sloping dales. Where royal cities stately stand. An' aye the night comes round again. As lang's he has a breath to draw. That winding stream I love so dear! Must wayward Fortune's adverse hand For ever. But sweeter flows the Nith to me. Amang the friends of early days! Jamie. Where bounding hawthorns gaily bloom. . Far from thy bonie banks and braes.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. When Jockie's owsen hameward ca'. come try me. An' aye he vows he'll be my ain. Tho' wandering now must be my doom. Come Try Me Chorus.—Jamie. by Robert Burns And o'er the lea I leuk fu' fain. May there my latest hours consume. 422 The Banks Of Nith The Thames flows proudly to the sea. Nith. thy fruitful vales.

by Robert Burns Jamie. come try me. come try me! Jamie. If thou would win my love. love. While down his cheeks the saut tears row'd. come try me. And I'll keep it till the hour I die. But I gied him a far better thing. Jamie. Wha could espy thee? If thou wad be my love. If thou should kiss me. come try me. Tho' the love that I owe To thee I dare na show. My Sandy brak a piece o' gowd. Could I deny thee? If thou would win my love. My bonie. Was a' beset wi' diamonds fine. 423 I Love My Love In Secret My Sandy gied to me a ring.—My Sandy O. my Sandy O. He took a hauf. Chorus. come try me! Jamie. bonie Sandy O. and gied it to me. . I gied my heart in pledge o' his ring. my Sandy O. &c. come try me.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Jamie. &c. Jamie. Yet I love my love in secret. If thou should ask my love.

Thou shalt sit in state. O mount and go. O mount and go. sweet Tibbie Dunbar? Wilt thou ride on a horse. or be drawn in a car. his lands and his money. sweet Tibbie Dunbar? O wilt thou go wi' me. The Captain's Lady Chorus. I care na thy kin. Thou shalt sit in state. and in love enjoy it. And come in thy coatie.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. &c. When the drums do beat. 424 Sweet Tibbie Dunbar O wilt thou go wi' me. &c. When the vanquish'd foe sues for peace and quiet. and the cannons rattle. and see thy love in battle.—O mount and go. and the cannons rattle. &c. Or walk by my side. But sae that thou'lt hae me for better for waur. and in love enjoy it: When the vanquish'd foe sues for peace and quiet. O mount and go. mount and make you ready. and be the Captain's lady. O sweet Tibbie Dunbar? I care na thy daddie. by Robert Burns My Sand O. and see thy love in battle: When the drums do beat. To the shades we'll go. sae high and sae lordly. To the shades we'll go. sweet Tibbie Dunbar. .

she's but a lassie yet. she's but a lassie yet. O! I rue the day I sought her. I rue the day I sought her. John. She'll no be half sae saucy yet. But blessings on your frosty pow. John. But now your brow is beld. We'll let her stand a year or twa. But he may say he's bought her. my jo. And hand in hand we'll go. Your locks are like the snaw. John. And sleep thegither at the foot. my jo. She's But A Lassie Yet My love. We've had wi' ane anither: Now we maun totter down. John. My Jo John Anderson. . Your locks were like the raven. John Anderson. We clamb the hill thegither. O. by Robert Burns 425 John Anderson. Come. my jo. When we were first acquent. My Love. O! Wha gets her needs na say she's woo'd. John Anderson. My love.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. John Anderson. my jo. Your bonie brow was brent. And mony a cantie day. draw a drap o' the best o't yet. John.

dear Tittie. by Robert Burns Come. To anger them a' is a pity. But. Gae seek for pleasure whare you will. He could na preach for thinkin o't. But here I never miss'd it yet. In poortith I might mak a fen. brute!" he comes ben: He brags and he blaws o' his siller. if it's ordain'd I maun take him. 426 Song—Tam Glen My heart is a-breaking. They flatter. But wha can think sae o' Tam Glen! My daddie says. wi' sic a braw fellow. What care I in riches to wallow. The minister kiss'd the fiddler's wife. to deceive me.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. gin I'll forsake him. But what will I do wi' Tam Glen? I'm thinking. she says. draw a drap o' the best o't yet. We're a' dry wi' drinkin o't. We're a' dry wi' drinkin o't. Some counsel unto me come len'. He'd gie me gude hunder marks ten. But when will he dance like Tam Glen! My minnie does constantly deave me. And bids me beware o' young men. If I maunna marry Tam Glen! There's Lowrie the Laird o' Dumeller— "Gude day to you. .

counsel. Then somebody maun cross the main. Carle. My heart to my mou' gied a sten'. Thou shalt dance and I will sing. An The King Come Chorus. Tam Glen. We gae the boot and better horse. an the King come. as ye ken. Carle. I trow we swapped for the worse. I'll gie ye my bonie black hen. . His likeness came up the house staukin. an the King come. And that we'll tell them at the cross. by Robert Burns O wha will I get but Tam Glen! Yestreen at the Valentine's dealing. Gif ye will advise me to marry The lad I lo'e dearly. And the very grey breeks o' Tam Glen! Come.—Carle. dear Tittie. an the King come.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. An somebody were come again. &c. 427 Carle. an the King come. Carle. an the King come. an the King come. For thrice I drew ane without failing. Carle. Carle. don't tarry. And every man shall hae his ain. And thrice it was written "Tam Glen"! The last Halloween I was waukin My droukit sark-sleeve.

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. 428 The Laddie's Dear Sel' There's a youth in this city. and his shoon like the slae. wha's daddie was laird o' the Ha'. an the King come. Coggie. And Susie. weel-mounted an' braw. . weel-tocher'd. an the King come. For he's bonie and braw. and thou'se be toom Coggie. an the King come. it were a great pity That he from our lassies should wander awa'. There's lang-tocher'd Nancy maist fetters his fancy. His fecket is white as the new-driven snaw. His hose they are blae. an the King come. Coggie. Weel-featur'd. The penny's the jewel that beautifies a'. But chiefly the siller that gars him gang till her. —But the laddie's dear sel'. Whistle O'er The Lave O't First when Maggie was my care. And his clear siller buckles. &c. an the King come. His coat is the hue o' his bonnet sae blue. by Robert Burns Carle. weel-favor'd witha'. I'se be fou. Coggie. they dazzle us a'. An' his hair has a natural buckle an' a'. There's Meg wi' the mailen that fain wad a haen him. &c. For beauty and fortune the laddie's been courtin. he loes dearest of a'.

Whistle o'er the lave o't! How we live. my Eppie. my Eppie Adair! . my Meg and me. my jewel. and by duty. and how we gree. I could write—but Meg maun see't— Whistle o'er the lave o't! 429 My Eppie Adair Chorus. A' pleasure exile me. dishonour defile me. was in her air.—An' O my Eppie. and by beauty. I care na by how few may see— Whistle o'er the lave o't! Wha I wish were maggot's meat. Sweet and harmless as a child— Wiser men than me's beguil'd. my Eppie Adair! A' pleasure exile me. by law.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Wha wad na be happy wi' Eppie Adair? By love. by Robert Burns Heav'n. How we love. I swear to be true to my Eppie Adair! And O my Eppie. Now we're married—speir nae mair. and by beauty. dishonour defile me. I thought. and Meg was mild. by law. If e'er I beguile thee. I swear to be true to my Eppie Adair! By love. and by duty. If e'er I beguile ye. But whistle o'er the lave o't! Meg was meek. &c. Dish'd up in her winding-sheet.

430 On The Late Captain Grose's Peregrinations Thro' Scotland Collecting The Antiquities Of That Kingdom Hear. faith. fat fodgel wight. mark weel. they say. Or kirk deserted by its riggin. Wi' deils. Land o' Cakes. Ye'll quake at his conjuring hammer. by Robert Burns And O my Eppie.— If there's a hole in a' your coats. Ye gipsy-gang that deal in glamour. That's he. Frae Maidenkirk to Johnie Groat's. O' stature short. I rede you tent it: A chield's amang you takin notes. . &c. By some auld. deep-read in hell's black grammar. and brither Scots. It's ten to ane ye'll find him snug in Some eldritch part. And wow! he has an unco sleight O' cauk and keel. And. And you.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Ilk ghaist that haunts auld ha' or chaumer. Ye midnight bitches. but genius bright. Warlocks and witches. Lord save's! colleaguin At some black art. he'll prent it: If in your bounds ye chance to light Upon a fine. houlet-haunted biggin.

O port! shine thou a wee. Weel shod wi' brass. And Then ye'll see him! 431 . It was a faulding jocteleg. For meikle glee and fun has he. Then set him down. He has a fouth o' auld nick-nackets: Rusty airn caps and jinglin jackets. Before the Flood. Or lang-kail gullie. A towmont gude. and twa or three Gude fellows wi' him: And port.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. The knife that nickit Abel's craig He'll prove you fully. And parritch-pats and auld saut-backets. Wad haud the Lothians three in tackets. Auld Tubalcain's fire-shool and fender. by Robert Burns It's tauld he was a sodger bred. But now he's quat the spurtle-blade. Forbye. And ane wad rather fa'n than fled. And dog-skin wallet. he'll shape you aff fu' gleg The cut of Adam's philibeg. That which distinguished the gender O' Balaam's ass: A broomstick o' the witch of Endor. And taen the—Antiquarian trade. I think they call it. Of Eve's first fire he has a cinder. But wad ye see him in his glee.

Doctor Mac! Doctor Mac. you should streek on a rack. To strike evil-doers wi' terror: To join Faith and Sense. But when he approached where poor Francis lay moaning. And saw each bed-post with its burthen a-groaning." Orthodox! That what is no sense must be nonsense. "That what is no sense must be nonsense. upon any pretence. Astonish'd. "Shame fa' thee!" 432 Epigram On Francis Grose The Antiquary The Devil got notice that Grose was a-dying So whip! at the summons. damnable error.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. . Brother Sportsman!" Orthodox! orthodox. Let me sound an alarm to your conscience: A heretic blast has been blown in the West. Tune—"Come rouse. by the Pow'rs o' verse and prose! Thou art a dainty chield. I'd take the rascal by the nose. O Grose!— Whae'er o' thee shall ill suppose. Was heretic. confounded. old Satan came flying. cries Satan—"By God. who believe in John Knox. by Robert Burns Now. Wad say. ere I take such a damnable load!" The Kirk Of Scotland's Alarm A Ballad. They sair misca' thee. I'll want him.

—R. [Footnote 1: Dr.B. Simper James!^7 For puppies like you there's but few.] [Footnote 3: John Ballantine.] [Footnote 5: Dr. deal brimstone like aidle.B. by Robert Burns Doctor Mac!^1 'Twas heretic. And your life like the new-driven snaw.—R. D'rymple mild! D'rymple mild. that the pack you'll soon lead.^2 Provost John^3 is still deaf to the Church's relief. and howl. For preaching that three's ane an' twa. Yet that winna save you. yell. Ayr.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. are ye huirdin the penny. tho' your heart's like a child. M'Gill. D'rymple mild!^5 For preaching that three's ane an' twa.—R. Dalrymple.—R. To meddle wi' mischief a-brewing.B.B. Unconscious what evils await? With a jump. Rumble John!^6 And roar ev'ry note of the damn'd. Cry the book is with heresy cramm'd.—R.B.] [Footnote 2: See the advertisement. it was mad. auld Satan must have you. Orator Bob is its ruin.] [Footnote 6: John Russell. Then out wi' your ladle.] [Footnote 4: Robert Aiken. damnable error. I declare. leave your fair Killie dames. mount the steps with a groan. Ayr. There's a holier chase in your view: I'll lay on your head.] Simper James! simper James. Town of Ayr! town of Ayr. 433 . Singet Sawnie! singet Sawnie.—R. And Orator Bob^4 is its ruin. Kilmarnock. Rumble John! rumble John. For puppies like you there's but few.B. Town of Ayr! Yes. And roar ev'ry note of the damn'd. alarm ev'ry soul.

Barr Steenie!^10 Wi'people that ken ye nae better. In hunting the wicked Lieutenant. Barr Steenie! Barr Steenie. Jamie Goose! Jamie Goose. the place where he sh—t. Jamie Goose!^11 He has cooper'd an' ca'd a wrang pin in't. royal blood ye might boast. Wi' people that ken ye nae better. who had lately been foiled in an ecclesiastical prosecution against a Lieutenant Mitchel—R. Wi' your "Liberty's Chain" and your wit."—R.] [Footnote 9: William Peebles.B. what mean ye? If ye meddle nae mair wi' the matter. Kilmarnock. O'er Pegasus' side ye ne'er laid a stride.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. by Robert Burns For the foul thief is just at your gate. gie the Doctor a volley. [Footnote 7: James Mackinlay.—R. He has cooper'd an' ca'd a wrang pin in't. for a saint ye do muster. published an ode on the "Centenary of the Revolution.—R.B. man.B. what mean ye.] [Footnote 8: Alexander Moodie of Riccarton.] Yet to worth let's be just. Singet Sawnie!^8 For the foul thief is just at your gate. a poetaster.] [Footnote 10: Stephen Young of Barr. Ye but smelt. Poet Willie!^9 Ye but smelt man.B. among many other things. in New Cumnock. ye made but toom roose. who." in which was the line: "And bound in Liberty's endering chain. the place where he sh—t. Poet Willie! poet Willie. in Newton-upon-Ayr. Ye may hae some pretence to havins and sense. But the Doctor's your mark. The corps is no nice o' recruits.] [Footnote 11: James Young. for the Lord's holy ark.B.—R. Davie Bluster! Davie Bluster. 434 .

'tis true.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Tho' ye do little skaith. To crush common-sense for her sins. Irvine Side! Irvine Side. ev'n your foes will allow. let me tell ye. Calvin's sons! Calvin's sons. Wha should swing in a rape for an hour. Holy Will!^17 Ye should swing in a rape for an hour. For gif ye canna bite.] 435 .B. lay by hat an' wig. yet. when the Lord makes a rock. When ye pilfer'd the alms o' the poor. Irvine Side!^13 And your friends they dare grant you nae mair. Muirland Jock! muirland Jock. ye may bark. wi' your turkey-cock pride Of manhood but sma' is your share: Ye've the figure. an' look big.—R. Andro Gowk!^15 Ye'll hae a calf's head o' sma value. Davie Bluster!^12 If the Ass were the king o' the brutes. Muirland Jock!^14 To confound the poor Doctor at ance. Holy Will! holy Will. The timmer is scant when ye're taen for a saunt. ye'll be in at the death. A tod meikle waur than the clerk. Daddy Auld! daddy Auld. there'a a tod in the fauld. An' ye'll hae a calf's—had o' sma' value. ye may slander the Book. Tho' ye're rich. If ill-manners were wit. Ochiltree. Ammunition you never can need. Daddy Auld!^16 Gif ye canna bite. [Footnote 12: David Grant. An' the Book nought the waur. Andro Gowk! Andro Gowk. there was wit in your skull. seize your spiritual guns. by Robert Burns If the Ass were the king o' the brutes. there's no mortal so fit To confound the poor Doctor at ance. And your friends they dare grant you nae mair. ye may bark.

. Afton's Laird! To that trusty auld worthy.—R.B.] [Footnote 16: William Auld. She could ca'us nae waur than we are.—R. when your pen can be spared. 436 Presentation Stanzas To Correspondents Factor John! Factor John. for the clerk.B. the Bard. Poet Burns! She could ca'us nae waur than we are. A copy of this I bequeath. see "Holy Willie"s prayer. Why desert ye your auld native shire? Your muse is a gipsy.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Monkton. On the same sicker score as I mention'd before.] Your hearts are the stuff will be powder enough. whom the Lord made alone.B. wi' your priest-skelpin turns. To that trusty auld worthy.] [Footnote 14: John Shepherd Muirkirk. Factor John! He presents thee this token sincere. Galston. Thy poor servant. in respectful regard.—R. Afton's Laird! Afton's Laird. Andrew Mitchel. Mauchline.—R. thy peer. Clackleith.—R. Calvin's sons! Your skulls are a storehouse o' lead.B. And your skulls are a storehouse o' lead.] [Footnote 17: Vide the "Prayer" of this saint. And ne'er made anither. by Robert Burns [Footnote 13: George Smith. Clackleith. Poet Burns! poet Burns. yet were she e'en tipsy.] [Footnote 15: Dr. He presents thee this token sincere.B.

. goodness ever new. Esq. Ochon the day! That clarty barm should stain my laurels: But—what'll ye say? These movin' things ca'd wives an' weans. 1979. Searching auld wives' barrels. A fabled Muse may suit a bard that feigns: Friend of my life! my ardent spirit burns. as the giver you. Extemporaneous Effusion On being appointed to an Excise division. Wad move the very hearts o' stanes! . Thou orb of day! thou other paler light! And all ye many sparkling stars of night! If aught that giver from my mind efface. For boons accorded. by Robert Burns 437 Sonnet On Receiving A Favour 10 Aug. If I that giver's bounty e'er disgrace. Addressed to Robert Graham. The gifts still dearer. of Fintry. Then roll to me along your wand'rig spheres. I call no Goddess to inspire my strains. And grateful would. Only to number out a villain's years! I lay my hand upon my swelling breast.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. And all the tribute of my heart returns. but cannot speak the rest.

And mony a night we've merry been. Here are we met. But just a drappie in our ee. by my sooth. she'll wait a wee! We are na fou.—Lang. we're nae that fou. I ken her horn. by Robert Burns 438 Song—Willie Brew'd A Peck O' Maut^1 O Willie brew'd a peck o' maut.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. three merry boys. That's blinkin' in the lift sae hie. Allan is Masterton the writing— master. August—September. Wha first shall rise to gang awa.] . But. And Rob and Allen cam to see. the day may daw And aye we'll taste the barley bree. &c. &c.—We are na fou. 1789. It is the moon. The cock may craw. coward loun is he! Wha first beside his chair shall fa'. And mony mae we hope to be! We are na fou. She shines sae bright to wyle us hame. A cuckold. Date. We are na fou. He is the King amang us three. Three merry boys I trow are we. Three blyther hearts. Ye wadna found in Christendie. &c. that lee-lang night. [Footnote 1: Willie is Nicol. Chorus. The scene is between Moffat and the head of the Loch of the Lowes.

While day blinks in the lift sae hie. The moon it shines fu' clearly. Cauf-leather shoon upon your feet. My bonie dearie As I gaed down the water-side.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. And ye may row me in your plaid. &c. my shepherd lad. Ye sall get gowns and ribbons meet. by Robert Burns 439 Ca' The Yowes To The Knowes Chorus. An' ye sall be my dearie. &c. And I sall be your dearie. . Will ye gang down the water-side. And he ca'd me his dearie. While waters wimple to the sea. Ye sall be my dearie. And see the waves sae sweetly glide Beneath the hazels spreading wide. I'se gang wi' thee. Ca' them where the burnie rowes. Ca' the yowes. And in my arms ye'se lie and sleep. There I met my shepherd lad: He row'd me sweetly in his plaid. Ca' them where the heather grows. &c. &c.—Ca' the yowes to the knowes. Ca' the yowes. Ca' the yowes. Till clay-cauld death sall blin' my e'e. Ca' the yowes. If ye'll but stand to what ye've said.

the deadly wound. I'll dearly rue. Her lips like roses wat wi' dew. I'll lay my dead To her twa een sae bonie blue. She talk'd. And aye the stound. by Robert Burns Ca' the yowes. Her heaving bosom. I gat my death frae twa sweet een. I'll never see him back again. &c. A gate. she smil'd.—O for him back again! O for him back again! . lily-white— It was her een sae bonie blue. But "spare to speak. Cam frae her een so bonie blue. She charm'd my soul I wist na how. Fu' stately strade he on the plain. Highland Harry Back Again My Harry was a gallant gay. my heart she wyl'd.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Chorus. 440 I Gaed A Waefu' Gate Yestreen I gaed a waefu' gate yestreen. 'Twas not her golden ringlets bright." She'll aiblins listen to my vow: Should she refuse. and spare to speed. But now he's banish'd far away. I fear. Twa lovely een o'bonie blue.

sair and teugh. And ilka body had their ain! Then I might see the joyfu' sight. And reekin-red ran mony a sheugh. &c. by Robert Burns I wad gie a' Knockhaspie's land For Highland Harry back again. O were some villains hangit high. Or herd the sheep wi' me. for fear.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. &c. My heart. man. To hear the thuds. &c. When a' the lave gae to their bed. man? Or were ye at the Sherra-moor. O for him. man?" I saw the battle. and see the cluds O' clans frae woods. I set me down and greet my fill. wi' black cockauds. in tartan duds. O for him. Wha glaum'd at kingdoms three. la. Or did the battle see. la. . To meet them were na slaw. And aye I wish him back again. la. La." "O cam ye here the fight to shun. My Highland Harry back again. The red-coat lads. gaed sough for sough. 441 The Battle Of Sherramuir Tune—"The Cameronian Rant. I wander dowie up the glen. man.

out o' breath. But. Till fey men died awa. while braid-swords. "O how deil. When baiginets o'erpower'd the targe. man. they did pursue. &c. in my ain sight. till. la. cursed lot! the gates were shut. la. I wat they glanced twenty miles. The horsemen back to Forth. La. and blude outgush'd And mony a bouk did fa'. And straught to Stirling wing'd their flight. And at Dunblane.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. &c. clash'd. can that be true? The chase gaed frae the north. man!" 442 . And skyrin tartan trews. Wi' Highland wrath they frae the sheath Drew blades o' death. For fear amaist did swarf. and hew'd and smash'd. I saw mysel. man! La. They hack'd and hash'd. la. And thro' they dash'd. And mony a huntit poor red-coat. They hough'd the clans like nine-pin kyles. And covenant True-blues. la. But had ye seen the philibegs. And thousands hasten'd to the charge. man. la. They fled like frighted dows. When in the teeth they dar'd our Whigs. by Robert Burns They rush'd and push'd. man. man. They took the brig wi' a' their might. Tam. la. man: In lines extended lang and large. man: The great Argyle led on his files.

La. &c. man. Then ye may tell. that they should lose Their cogs o' brose. The Angus lads had nae gude will That day their neibors' blude to spill. man! I fear my Lord Panmure is slain. by Robert Burns La. By red claymores. man. la. for foes. la. la. how pell and mell. they scar'd at blows. La. Some fell for wrang. Now wad ye sing this double fight. man. 443 The Braes O' Killiecrankie Where hae ye been sae braw. And Whigs to hell did flee. They've lost some gallant gentlemen. And hameward fast did flee. Or fallen in Whiggish hands. O? . Wi' dying yell. la. and muskets knell. Their left-hand general had nae skill. la. &c. man. la.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. &c. man. la. and some for right. lad? Whare hae ye been sae brankie. My sister Kate cam up the gate Wi' crowdie unto me. But mony bade the world gude-night. la. Amang the Highland clans. the Tories fell. la. For fear. She swoor she saw some rebels run To Perth unto Dundee.

Awa' Chorus. by Robert Burns Whare hae ye been sae braw. I' the Braes o' Killiecrankie. But I met the devil an' Dundee. O. An' Clavers gat a clankie. And bonie bloom'd our roses. O. O. awa'! Ye're but a pack o' traitor louns. awa'! Awa' Whigs. Ye'll do nae gude at a'. Our ancient crown's fa'en in the dust— . Ye wad na been sae cantie. O. But Whigs cam' like a frost in June. I faught at land. On the Braes o' Killiecrankie. Awa' Whigs. O. The bauld Pitcur fell in a furr. An ye had been. O. lad? Cam ye by Killiecrankie. Or I had fed an Athole gled. I faught at sea. &c.—An ye had been whare I hae been.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. O? Chorus. An' wither'd a' our posies. At hame I faught my Auntie.—Awa' Whigs. &c. On the Braes o' Killiecrankie. Our thrissles flourish'd fresh and fair. An ye had seen what I hae seen. 444 Awa' Whigs. &c. An ye had been.

Our sad decay in church and state Surpasses my descriving: The Whigs cam' o'er us for a curse. &c. "An errand for my minnie. my hinnie? She answered me right saucilie." But I foor up the glen at e'en. 445 A Waukrife Minnie Whare are you gaun. Awa' Whigs. Awa' Whigs. Whare are you gaun. And lang before the grey morn cam. She was na hauf sae saucie." O whare live ye. O whare live ye. &c. Grim vengeance lang has taen a nap. In a wee house wi' my minnie. . by Robert Burns Deil blin' them wi' the stoure o't! An' write their names in his black beuk. But we may see him wauken: Gude help the day when royal heads Are hunted like a maukin! Awa' Whigs. my bonie lass. gin ye maun ken. An' we hae done wi' thriving. To see my bonie lassie. my hinnie? "By yon burnside. my bonie lass.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. &c. Wha gae the Whigs the power o't.

O fare thee weel." Dear Myra. 'Twas all my faithful love could gain. An angry wife I wat she raise. the captive ribband's mine. by Robert Burns O weary fa' the waukrife cock. And all his well-earn'd praise disclaim.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Go. 446 The Captive Ribband Tune—"Robaidh dona gorach. The ribband shall its freedom lose— Lose all the bliss it had with you. And o'er the bed she brocht her. It shall upon my bosom live. And the foumart lay his crawin! He wauken'd the auld wife frae her sleep. And share the fate I would impose On thee. A wee blink or the dawin. my bonie lass. And wi' a meikle hazel rung She made her a weel-pay'd dochter. my hinnie! Thou art a gay an' a bonnie lass. bid him lay his laurels down. wert thou my captive too. . But thou has a waukrife minnie. And would you ask me to resign The sole reward that crowns my pain? Go. O fare thee well. bid the hero who has run Thro' fields of death to gather fame.

the country of Worth. the pride of the North.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns." Farewell to the Highlands. Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods. Farewell to the mountains. My heart's in the Highlands. &c. by Robert Burns Or clasp me in a close embrace.—My heart's in the Highlands. My heart's in the Highlands. Old Loda. And at its fortune if you grieve. The Whistle—A Ballad I sing of a Whistle. wherever I rove. 447 My Heart's In The Highlands Tune—"Failte na Miosg. And long with this Whistle all Scotland shall ring. wherever I go. still rueing the arm of Fingal. Wherever I wander. and take its place. my heart is not here. Was brought to the court of our good Scottish King. Farewell to the straths and green vallies below. farewell to the North. Retrieve its doom. Chasing the wild-deer. a-chasing the deer. and following the roe. Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods. high-cover'd with snow. The hills of the Highlands for ever I love. I sing of a Whistle. a Whistle of worth. Chorus. The birth-place of Valour. The god of the bottle sends down from his hall— . My heart's in the Highlands.

deep-read in old wines. Which now in his house has for ages remain'd. No tide of the Baltic e'er drunker than he. Three joyous good fellows." And. 448 . worth. with a tongue smooth as oil.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. And trusty Glenriddel. Desiring Downrightly to yield up the spoil. "By the gods of the ancients!" Downrightly replies. Till three noble chieftains. victorious. And gallant Sir Robert. I'll conjure the ghost of the great Rorie More. unconquer'd in war. Said. and old chronicles tell. so famous for with. so skill'd in old coins." Sir Robert. a soldier. And bumper his horn with him twenty times o'er. Or else he would muster the heads of the clan. in claret. And once more. He drank his poor god-ship as deep as the sea. Unmatch'd at the bottle. what champions fell: The son of great Loda was conqueror still. The jovial contest again have renew'd. or his friend. the lord of the Cairn and the Scaur. with hearts clear of flaw Craigdarroch. "Toss down the Whistle. and all of his blood. Till Robert. And drink them to hell. Sir! or ne'er see me more!" Old poets have sung. knee-deep in claret. by Robert Burns "The Whistle's your challenge. Thus Robert. no speech would pretend. the trophy has gain'd. What champions ventur'd. try which was the man. the prize of the field. "Before I surrender so glorious a prize. Craigdarroch began. But he ne'er turn'd his back on his foe. and law. he'd die ere he'd yield. And blew on the Whistle their requiem shrill. to Scotland get o'er.

wit. so cautious and sage. for wine and for welcome. No longer the warfare ungodly would wage. And wish'd that Parnassus a vineyard had been. Six bottles a-piece had well wore out the night. Till Cynthia hinted he'd see them next morn. Next uprose our Bard. of a sweet lovely dame. The dinner being over. a hero should perish in light. A high Ruling Elder to wallow in wine. He left the foul business to folks less divine. thou'lt soar when creation shall sink! 449 . But who can with Fate and quart bumpers contend! Though Fate said. So noted for drowning of sorrow and care. And swore 'twas the way that their ancestor did.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. the claret they ply. But. Gay Pleasure ran riot as bumpers ran o'er: Bright Phoebus ne'er witness'd so joyous a core. Than the sense. And ev'ry new cork is a new spring of joy. Turn'd o'er in one bumper a bottle of red. And tell future ages the feats of the day. So uprose bright Phoebus—and down fell the knight. and taste. In the bands of old friendship and kindred so set. A Bard who detested all sadness and spleen. A bard was selected to witness the fray. not more known to fame. by Robert Burns To the board of Glenriddel our heroes repair. Then worthy Glenriddel. to finish the fight. like a prophet in drink:— "Craigdarroch. And vow'd that to leave them he was quite forlorn. When gallant Sir Robert. And the bands grew the tighter the more they were wet. The gallant Sir Robert fought hard to the end.

Where. and mine be the bay. Thy image at our last embrace.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. with lessening ray. Ah! little thought we 'twas our last! Ayr. by the winding Ayr. kiss'd his pebbled shore. The field thou hast won. To live one day of parting love! Eternity will not efface Those records dear of transports past. Shall heroes and patriots ever produce: So thine be the laurel. Come—one bottle more—and have at the sublime! "Thy line. thickening green. that have struggled for freedom with Bruce. Again thou usher'st in the day My Mary from my soul was torn. we met. 'Twin'd amorous round the raptur'd scene: . Can I forget the hallow'd grove. O'erhung with wild-woods. That lov'st to greet the early morn. by yon bright god of day!" 450 To Mary In Heaven Thou ling'ring star. gurgling. by Robert Burns But if thou would flourish immortal in rhyme. O Mary! dear departed shade! Where is thy place of blissful rest? See'st thou thy lover lowly laid? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast? That sacred hour can I forget. The fragrant birch and hawthorn hoar.

and weel and cantie? I ken'd it still. too soon.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Time but th' impression stronger makes. But aiblins. Till too. As streams their channels deeper wear. Wow. He'd tak my letter. The ill-thief blaw the Heron south! And never drink be near his drouth! He tauld myself by word o' mouth.. 1789. honest Master Heron . by Robert Burns The flowers sprang wanton to be prest. the glowing west. And fondly broods with miser-care. your wee bit jauntie Wad bring ye to: Lord send you aye as weel's I want ye! And then ye'll do. 21st Oct. Blacklock Ellisland. Proclaim'd the speed of winged day. I lippen'd to the chiel in trouth. but your letter made me vauntie! And are ye hale. Still o'er these scenes my mem'ry wakes. The birds sang love on every spray. My Mary! dear departed shade! Where is thy blissful place of rest? See'st thou thy lover lowly laid? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast? 451 Epistle To Dr. And bade nae better.

And holy study. thraw saugh woodies. But why should ae man better fare. That strang necessity supreme is 'Mang sons o' men. Firm Resolve. at the time. And tired o' sauls to waste his lear on. dainty damies. 452 . take thou the van.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. by Castalia's wimplin streamies. Ye ken. I fear. my trusty fere. and lave your pretty limbies. by Robert Burns Had. I hae a wife and twa wee laddies. some dainty fair one To ware this theologic care on. I fear. Ye glaikit. I'm turned a gauger—Peace be here! Parnassian queans. Lord help me thro' this warld o' care! I'm weary sick o't late and air! Not but I hae a richer share Than mony ithers. gleesome. E'en tried the body. They maun hae brose and brats o' duddies. Ye'll now disdain me! And then my fifty pounds a year Will little gain me. And a' men brithers? Come. Before they want. Ye ken yoursels my heart right proud is— I need na vaunt But I'll sned besoms. But what d'ye think. ye ken. sing. Wha. Lowp.

They fell upon a scheme. I wat she is a daintie chuckie. And eke the same to honest Lucky. I'm yours for aye. But do their errands there. To make a happy fireside clime To weans and wife. my gude auld cockie. Tune—"Chevy Chase. But to conclude my silly rhyme (I'm scant o' verse and scant o' time). Nor only bring them tidings hame. My compliments to sister Beckie. To bring them tidings hame. Will whiles do mair. To send a lad to London town. 453 The Five Carlins An Election Ballad. That's the true pathos and sublime Of human life.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. faint heart ne'er wan A lady fair: Wha does the utmost that he can." There was five Carlins in the South. As e'er tread clay. Robert Burns. And gratefully. . by Robert Burns Thou stalk o' carl-hemp in man! And let us mind.

And Marjory o' the mony Lochs. This errand fain wad gae. And meikle he wad say. O ne'er a ane but twae.^2 And he wad gae to London town. But nae ane could their fancy please. that took her gill. And auld black Joan frae Crichton Peel. Might nae man him withstand. A dame wi' pride eneugh. A Carlin auld and teugh. 454 . Five wighter Carlins were na found The South countrie within. This errand fain wad gae. and mony a laird. and mony a laird. In Galloway sae wide. They met upon a day. The first ane was a belted Knight. And he wad do their errands weel. by Robert Burns And aiblins gowd and honor baith Might be that laddie's share. There was Maggy by the banks o' Nith. And mony a knight.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. And whisky Jean. And ilka ane about the court Wad bid to him gude-day.^1 O' gipsy kith an' kin. O mony a knight. Bred of a Border band. To send a lad to London town. That dwelt near Solway-side. And blinkin Bess of Annandale.

To greet his eldest son. Then out spak mim-mou'd Meg o' Nith. Though she should vote her lane.^3 Who spak wi' modest grace.^5 Then up sprang Bess o' Annandale. That she wad vote the Border Knight. If sae their pleasure was. But she wad send the Soger youth. And some wad please themsel'." 455 .] The neist cam in a Soger youth. But he wad hecht an honest heart. Now. Whatever might betide. wham to chuse.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. And a deadly aith she's ta'en. And fools o' change are fain. And he wad gae to London town. At strife thir Carlins fell. He wad na hecht them courtly gifts. "For far-off fowls hae feathers fair. But I hae tried the Border Knight. For some had Gentlefolks to please. And I'll try him yet again. And she spak up wi' pride. Nor meikle speech pretend. Wad ne'er desert his friend. and wham refuse. by Robert Burns [Footnote 1: Sanquhar.] [Footnote 2: Sir James Johnston of Westerhall. And she wad send the Soger youth. For the auld Gudeman o' London court^4 She didna care a pin.

Her auld Scots bluid was true. kimmers a'." Sae how this mighty plea may end. I set as light by them. Her ancient weed was russet gray. But I will send to London town Wham I like best at hame." Then whisky Jean spak owre her drink." Then slow raise Marjory o' the Lochs. "And mony a friend that kiss'd his caup Is now a fremit wight. Nae mortal wight can tell. A Carlin stoor and grim. But it's ne'er be said o' whisky Jean— We'll send the Border Knight. His back's been at the wa'. "Ye weel ken. "There's some great folk set light by me.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. But the Soger's friends hae blawn the best. by Robert Burns Says black Joan frae Crichton Peel. For me may sink or swim.] [Footnote 5: The Prince of Wales.] For fools will prate o' right or wrang. God grant the King and ilka man 456 . The auld gudeman o' London court. While knaves laugh them to scorn. "The auld Gudeman or young Gudeman. And wrinkled was her brow. [Footnote 3: Captain Patrick Millar of Dalswinton. So he shall bear the horn.] [Footnote 4: The King.

as he sair'd the King— Turn tail and rin awa'. Ye turncoat Whigs. Or gied her faes a claw. awa'! The day he stude his country's friend. Jamie. . There's no a callent tents the kye. But kens o' Westerha'. Jamie. his country's boast? Like him there is na twa.—Up and waur them a'. Lang may his whistle blaw. by Robert Burns May look weel to himsel. Jamie. the Prince of Wales should assume the Government with full prerogative. But wha is he." The Laddies by the banks o' Nith Wad trust his Grace^1 wi a'. o' sterling blue.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Up and waur them. &c. Willie. during George III's illness.] Chorus. who supported the proposal that. But he'll sair them. The Johnstones hae the guidin o't. here's Whistlebirk. Jamie. That day the Duke ne'er saw. Up and waur them a'. &c. Jamie. Up and waur them. Jamie. And Maxwell true. 457 Election Ballad For Westerha' Tune—"Up and waur them a'. Or frae puir man a blessin wan. Jamie. Jamie. To end the wark. [Footnote 1: The fourth Duke of Queensberry.

That tho' some by the skirt may try to snatch him. 458 Prologue Spoken At The Theatre Of Dumfries On New Year's Day Evening. but tell his simple story: The sage. sententious. That queens it o'er our taste—the more's the pity: Tho' by the bye. No song nor dance I bring from yon great city. &c. Up and waur them. "You're one year older this important day. dry. suffering." If wiser too—he hinted some suggestion. That whether doing. quite flush with hope and spirit. abroad why will you roam? Good sense and taste are natives here at home: But not for panegyric I appear.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. To you the dotard has a deal to say. Jamie. you know. by Robert Burns And we'll be Johnstones a'. or forbearing. Not for to preach. proverb way! He bids you mind. to ask the question. Yet by the foreclock is the hold to catch him. bid them Think!" Ye sprightly youths. and bade me say. And with a would-be roguish leer and wink. in one word. But 'twould be rude. grave Ancient cough'd. Who think to storm the world by dint of merit. In his sly. I come to wish you all a good New Year! Old Father Time deputes me here before ye. 1790. . Said—"Sutherland. That the first blow is ever half the battle. amid your thoughtless rattle.

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. . high Heaven's peculiar care! To you old Bald-pate smoothes his wrinkled brow. by Robert Burns You may do miracles by persevering. The absent lover. the old bald-pated fellow. With ardent eyes. dull routine. Deaf as my friend. With grateful pride we own your many favours. tho' haply weak endeavours. And offers. Dunlop. 459 1790 Sketch—New Year's Day. And howsoe'er our tongues may ill reveal it. 1790 To Mrs. bliss to give and to receive. Time winds th' exhausted chain. To wheel the equal. And humbly begs you'll mind the important—Now! To crown your happiness he asks your leave. he sees them press. Believe our glowing bosoms truly feel it. complexion sallow. In vain assail him with their prayer. tho' not least in love. To run the twelvemonth's length again: I see. Last. Nor makes the hour one moment less. minor heir. This day. Adjust the unimpair'd machine. ye youthful fair. For our sincere. Angelic forms. Will you (the Major's with the hounds.

) And join with me a-moralizing. amus'd with proverb'd lore. Add to our date one minute more? A few days may—a few years must— Repose us in the silent dust. what did yesternight deliver? "Another year has gone for ever. Coila's fair Rachel's care to-day. On this poor being all depends. 460 . Or dark as Misery's woeful night. And blooming Keith's engaged with Gray) From housewife cares a minute borrow. uncertain state.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns." And what is this day's strong suggestion? "The passing moment's all we rest on!" Rest on—for what? what do we here? Or why regard the passing year? Will Time. Since then. is it wise to damp our bliss? Yes—all such reasonings are amiss! The voice of Nature loudly cries. First. This day's propitious to be wise in. by Robert Burns The happy tenants share his rounds. Whether as heavenly glory bright. That something in us never dies: That on his frail. And many a message from the skies. Hang matters of eternal weight: That future life in worlds unknown Must take its hue from this alone. (That grandchild's cap will do to-morrow. my honour'd first of friends. Then.

A fool and knave are plants of every soil. Nor need he hunt as far as Rome or Greece. (A sight life's sorrows to repulse. Witness that filial circle round.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. by Robert Burns Let us th' important now employ. Others now claim your chief regard. at the Theatre. How this new play an' that new sang is comin? Why is outlandish stuff sae meikle courted? Does nonsense mend. with days and honours crown'd. Dumfries. how hapless fell? Where are the Muses fled that could produce A drama worthy o' the name o' Bruce? How here. To gather matter for a serious piece. he first unsheath'd the sword .— Is there no daring Bard will rise and tell How glorious Wallace stood. And live as those who never die. like brandy. Sutherland On his Benefit-Night. 461 Scots' Prologue For Mr. What needs this din about the town o' Lon'on. There's themes enow in Caledonian story. when imported? Is there nae poet. Would shew the Tragic Muse in a' her glory. Tho' you. burning keen for fame. even here. A sight pale Envy to convulse). Will try to gie us sangs and plays at hame? For Comedy abroad he need to toil. Yourself. you wait your bright reward.

And after mony a bloody. by Robert Burns 'Gainst mighty England and her guilty Lord.) As able and as wicked as the Devil! One Douglas lives in Home's immortal page. or an Otway scene.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. And where he justly can commend. hapless Scottish Queen! Vain all th' omnipotence of female charms 'Gainst headlong. (tho' the phrase may seem uncivil. deathless doing. befriend them. "Whase aught thae chiels maks a' this bustle here?" My best leg foremost. Wink hard. A Douglas followed to the martial strife. And aiblins when they winna stand the test. should ony spier. Ye yet may follow where a Douglas leads! As ye hae generous done. but fell with spirit truly Roman. and say The folks hae done their best! Would a' the land do this. Ye'll soon hae Poets o' the Scottish nation Will gar Fame blaw until her trumpet crack. I'll set up my brow— 462 . Perhaps. A woman. prodigal of life. but patronize. To draw the lovely. Wrench'd his dear country from the jaws of Ruin! O for a Shakespeare. And warsle Time. mad Rebellion's arms: She fell. and Right succeeds. if a' the land Would take the Muses' servants by the hand. ruthless. an' lay him on his back! For us and for our Stage. then I'll be caition. if bowls row right. To glut that direst foe—a vengeful woman. Not only hear. But Douglasses were heroes every age: And tho' your fathers. commend them.

Or what the drumlie Dutch were doin. Portuguese. For gen'rous patronage. Who had sent the Poet a Newspaper. 463 Lines To A Gentleman. before he halt. I trust ye'll ever find us. Emperor Joseph. e'en guide us as ye like. And gratefu' still. Sir. what maist I wanted? This mony a day I've grain'd and gaunted. by Robert Burns We have the honour to belong to you! We're your ain bairns. 'twas really new! How guessed ye. Or if the Swede. That vile doup-skelper. If Denmark. sets and ranks: God help us! we're but poor—ye'se get but thanks. I've read your paper through. Or how the collieshangie works Atween the Russians and the Turks. Or Poland. And faith. Kind Sir.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. or Swiss. wha had now the tack o't: How cut-throat Prussian blades were hingin. How libbet Italy was singin. If Venus yet had got his nose off. . and offered to continue it free of Expense. to me. and meikle kindness We've got frae a' professions. Would play anither Charles the twalt. If Spaniard. To ken what French mischief was brewin. But like good mithers shore before ye strike. any body spak o't.

How daddie Burke the plea was cookin. Stephen's quorum. If Warren Hasting's neck was yeukin. How cesses. and earls. How royal George. Pimps. And no a perfect kintra cooser: A' this and mair I never heard of. sharpers. If sleekit Chatham Will was livin. 1790. Or how our merry lads at hame. Geordie Wales. Ellisland. 464 Elegy On Willie Nicol's Mare Peg Nicholson was a good bay mare. In Britain's court kept up the game. stents. back your news I send you. And. Or glaikit Charlie got his nieve in. But now she's floating down the Nith. Or if bare arses yet were tax'd. by Robert Burns Were sayin' or takin' aught amiss. And past the mouth o' Cairn. Or if he was grown oughtlins douser.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. gratefu'. bawds. dukes. And pray a' gude things may attend you. The news o' princes. So. I might despair'd of. and fees were rax'd. If that daft buckie. . and opera-girls. Was threshing still at hizzies' tails. but for you. As ever trod on airn. Monday Morning. the Lord leuk o'er him! Was managing St.

But now she's floating down the Nith.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. The hungry Jew in wilderness. Ye monarchs. For Solway fish a feast. The melting form of Anna: There I'll despise Imperial charms. And much oppress'd and bruis'd she was. take the East and West Frae Indus to Savannah. . within my straining grasp. And ance she bore a priest. Peg Nicholson was a good bay mare. And wanting even the skin. Yestreen lay on this breast o' mine The gowden locks of Anna. An Empress or Sultana. An' rode thro' thick and thin. As priest-rid cattle are. Peg Nicholson was a good bay mare. by Robert Burns Peg Nicholson was a good bay mare. 465 The Gowden Locks Of Anna Yestreen I had a pint o' wine. A place where body saw na. Rejoicing o'er his manna. Was naething to my hinny bliss Upon the lips of Anna. But now she's floating down the Nith.—&c. &c. Gie me. An' the priest he rode her sair.

Song—I Murder Hate I murder hate by flood or field. To live but her I canna. When I'm to meet my Anna! Come. In wars at home I'll spend my blood— Life-giving wars of Venus. thou pale Diana! Ilk Star. and Stars. To do sic things I maunna: The Kirk an' State may gae to hell. The first should be my Anna. Moon.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. in thy raven plumage. Had I on earth but wishes three.) And bring an angel-pen to write My transports with my Anna! 466 Postscript The Kirk an' State may join an' tell. withdrawn a'. She is the sunshine o' my e'e. (Sun. And I'll gae to my Anna. gae hide thy twinkling ray. Tho' glory's name may screen us. by Robert Burns While dying raptures in her arms I give and take wi' Anna! Awa. Night. thou flaunting God of Day! Awa. The deities that I adore .

But here we're a' in ae accord. count the lawin. Nor yet would I with Cato: The zealots of the Church and State Shall ne'er my mortal foes be. Then gudewife. My coggie is a haly pool That heals the wounds o' care and dool. There's wealth and ease for gentlemen. the lawin. . But we'll ne'er stray for faut o' light. Then gudewife. Gude ale and bratdy's stars and moon. Nor would I with Leonidas. and mirk's the night. But let me have bold Zimri's fate. And bring a coggie mair.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. For all the fuss of Plato. by Robert Burns Are social Peace and Plenty. Than be the death of twenty. I'm better pleas'd to make one more. Within the arms of Cozbi! 467 Gudewife. &c. And blue-red wine's the risin' sun. And simple folk maun fecht and fen'. count the lawin. The lawin. I would not die like Socrates.—Then gudewife. Chorus. Count The Lawin Gane is the day. For ilka man that's drunk's a lord.

O'er Pegasus I'll fling my leg. 1790. 468 Election Ballad At the close of the contest for representing the Dumfries Burghs. or jaup a gown. wi' uncouth kintra fleg. And damn'd in everlasting bogs. And I ride like the devil. by Robert Burns And Pleasure is a wanton trout. And ye shall see me try him. of Fintry. friend o' my life. Or rin my reckless. Are ye as idle's I am? Come then. Friend o' my muse. ye'll find him out. guilty crown Against the haly door: . But where shall I go rin a ride. That I may splatter nane beside? I wad na be uncivil: In manhood's various paths and ways There's aye some doytin' body strays. Addressed to R. As sure's the creed I'll blunder! I'll stain a band. An ye drink it a'.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Graham. &c. deep alley spur. Where Theologics daunder: Alas! curst wi' eternal fogs. And down yon dark. Fintry. Thus I break aff wi' a' my birr. Then gudewife. Esq. my stay in wordly strife.

When. The very name of Douglas blasted. And sunk them in contempt. oft the Douglas bore. And kissing barefit carlins. Came shaking hands wi' wabster-loons. Follies and crimes have stain'd the name. All hail! Drumlanrig's haughty Grace. Who left the all-important cares Of princes. as the Muse an' Deil wad hae't.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. 469 . Combustion thro' our boroughs rode. Till all the land's infected. by Robert Burns Sair do I rue my luckless fate. bent on winning borough touns. Where dogs at Court (sad sons of bitches!) Septennially a madness touches. Thine that inverted glory! Hate. Queensberry. Thy forbears' virtues all contrasted. and mix Amang the wilds o' Politics— Electors and elected. But. envy. Suppose I take a spurt. But thou hast superadded more. Whistling his roaring pack abroad Of mad unmuzzled lions. thine the virgin claim. From aught that's good exempt! I'll sing the zeal Drumlanrig bears. and their darlings: And. Discarded remnant of a race Once godlike—great in story. I rade that road before.

who set at nought The wildest savage Tory. Tropes. Besides. And bared the treason under. Craigdarroch led a light-arm'd core. Heroes in Caesarean fight. Heroes and heroines commix. Or Ciceronian pleading. metaphors. sub rosa. O for a throat like huge Mons-Meg. skill'd in rusty coins. All in the field of politics. Th' unmanner'd dust might soil his star. he hated bleeding: But left behind him heroes bright. Blew up each Tory's dark designs. played his part Amang their wives and lasses. But cautious Queensberry left the war. (Th' enamour'd laurels kiss her brows!) Led on the Loves and Graces: She won each gaping burgess' heart. To win immortal honours. While he.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. In either wing two champions fought. and figures pour. To muster o'er each ardent Whig Beneath Drumlanrig's banners. And Westerha' and Hopetoun hurled To every Whig defiance. Like Hecla streaming thunder: Glenriddel. 470 . Redoubted Staig. M'Murdo and his lovely spouse. by Robert Burns As Queensberry blue and buff unfurl'd.

When lightnings fire the stormy lift. What verse can sing. To these what Tory hosts oppos'd With these what Tory warriors clos'd Surpasses my descriving. that baron bold.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. As Highland craigs by thunder cleft. The many-pounders of the Banks. Amid this mighty tulyie! Grim Horror girn'd. by Robert Burns And Welsh who ne'er yet flinch'd his ground. Resistless desolation! While Maxwelton. As Murder at his thrapple shor'd. As flames among a hundred woods. 'Mid Lawson's port entrench'd his hold. Squadrons. The butcher deeds of bloody Fate. And threaten'd worse damnation. The stubborn Tories dare to die. And Hell mix'd in the brulyie. pale Terror roar'd. As headlong foam from a hundred floods. High-wav'd his magnum-bonum round With Cyclopeian fury. Miller brought up th' artillery ranks. Like furious devils driving. As soon the rooted oaks would fly Before th' approaching fellers: 471 . what prose narrate. Such is the rage of Battle. With furious speed rush to the charge. Hurl down with crashing rattle. extended long and large.

by Robert Burns The Whigs come on like Ocean's roar. Friend. by the names. Auld Covenanters shiver— Forgive! forgive! much-wrong'd Montrose! Now Death and Hell engulph thy foes. Thou liv'st on high for ever. Benefactor! 472 . Patron. Bold Scrimgeour follows gallant Graham. from the shades of Death's deep night. that I might cry. Still o'er the field the combat burns.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Nor wanting ghosts of Tory fame. The Tory ranks are broken. Whigs. O that my een were flowing burns! My voice. While Tories fall. while Tories fly. And think on former daring: The muffled murtherer of Charles The Magna Charter flag unfurls. give way by turns. Alas! can do but what they can. And furious Whigs pursuing! What Whig but melts for good Sir James. When all his wintry billows pour Against the Buchan Bullers. Dear to his country. But Fate the word has spoken: For woman's wit and strength o'man. All deadly gules its bearing. The Tories. Lo. a lioness that mourns Her darling cubs' undoing! That I might greet. Departed Whigs enjoy the fight.

And Melville melt in wailing: Now Fox and Sheridan rejoice. bold as Hector. A cool spectator purely! So. the Bard. by Robert Burns Not Pulteney's wealth can Pulteney save. Now. I pray with holy fire: Lord. O Death! thou tyrant fell and bloody! The meikle devil wi' a woodie Haurl thee hame to his black smiddie. for my friends' and brethren's sakes. . And Stewart. And Thurlow growl a curse of woe. And for my dear-lov'd Land o' Cakes. The robin in the hedge descends. the generous. when the storm the forest rends. And Burke shall sing. shalt rue this overthrow. Pitt. afar He only hears and sees the war. Should the poor be flattered?—Shakespeare.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. "O Prince. Thou. To grind them in the mire! 473 Elegy On Captain Matthew Henderson A Gentleman who held the Patent for his Honours immediately from Almighty God. send a rough-shod troop o' Hell O'er a' wad Scotland buy or sell. And sober chirps securely. arise! Thy power is all-prevailing!" For your poor friend. brave. And Hopetoun falls.

Or foaming. ye Nature's sturdiest bairns. when beans their fragrance shed. Mourn. Where haply. The first o' flow'rs. My wailing numbers! Mourn. Frae lin to lin. At dawn. Ye hills. Where Echo slumbers! Come join. Frae man exil'd. the haunts of sailing earns. In scented bow'rs. he's gane! he's frae us torn. near neighbours o' the starns. Ye roses on your thorny tree. By wood and wild. At ev'n. And like stock-fish come o'er his studdie Wi' thy auld sides! He's gane. wimplin' down your glens. That proudly cock your cresting cairns! Ye cliffs. Ye stately foxgloves. when ev'ry grassy blade Droops with a diamond at his head. by Robert Burns O'er hurcheon hides. strang. Ye woodbines hanging bonilie. little harebells o'er the lea.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Wi' toddlin din. fair to see. 474 . wi' hasty stens. Matthew. Pity strays forlorn. The ae best fellow e'er was born! Thee. ilka grove the cushat kens! Ye haz'ly shaws and briery dens! Ye burnies. Nature's sel' shall mourn.

Ye curlews. Wham we deplore. And when ye wing your annual way Frae our claud shore.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. what else for me remains 475 . we whirring paitrick brood. hills. Wail thro' the dreary midnight hour. Mourn. or eldritch tow'r. Ye houlets. But now. Ye whistling plover. frae your ivy bow'r In some auld tree. Ye bitterns. and speckled teals. ye wee songsters o' the wood. wi' airy wheels Circling the lake. What time the moon. Ye duck and drake. Ye maukins. wi' silent glow'r. sooty coots. whiddin thro' the glade. calling thro' a clud. Ye fisher herons. Mourn. Tell thae far warlds wha lies in clay. and plains! Oft have ye heard my canty strains. And mourn. clam'ring craiks at close o' day. forests. watching eels. by Robert Burns I' th' rustling gale. Till waukrife morn! O rivers. Ye grouse that crap the heather bud. Come join my wail. Sets up her horn. Rair for his sake. He's gane for ever! Mourn. 'Mang fields o' flow'ring clover gay. till the quagmire reels.

flow'ry tresses shear. O Henderson! the man! the brother! And art thou gone. 476 . Wide o'er the naked world declare The worth we've lost! Mourn him. Life's dreary bound! Like thee. For him that's dead! Thou. while each corny spear Shoots up its head. Mourn. In grief thy sallow mantle tear! Thou. Empress of the silent night! And you. wi' thy yellow hair. thou Sun. Simmer. Winter. The world around! Go to your sculptur'd tombs. by Robert Burns But tales of woe. hurling thro' the air The roaring blast. great source of light! Mourn. In a' the tinsel trash o' state! But by thy honest turf I'll wait. green. Autumn. thou darling of the year! Ilk cowslip cup shall kep a tear: Thou.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. And frae my een the drapping rains Maun ever flow. where shall I find another. Thy gay. ye Great. Spring. Ne'er to return. My Matthew mourn! For through your orbs he's ta'en his flight. and gone for ever! And hast thou crost that unknown river. ye twinkling starnies bright.

Like the unchanging blue. their works and ways. Wad life itself resign. If thou on men. If thou uncommon merit hast. I tell nae common tale o' grief. A look of pity hither cast. Here lies wha weel had won thy praise. That passest by this grave. This was a kinsman o' thy ain. man. without a stain. Canst throw uncommon light. If thou a noble sodger art. 477 The Epitaph Stop. For Matthew was a bright man. at Friendship's sacred ca'. And truth I shall relate. For Matthew was a poor man. man. There moulders here a gallant heart. man. by Robert Burns Thou man of worth! And weep the ae best fellow's fate E'er lay in earth. Yet spurn'd at Fortune's door. For Matthew was a kind man. passenger! my story's brief. man. man: Thy sympathetic tear maun fa'. For Matthew was a brave man. For Matthew was a great man. If thou. .Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. man. If thou art staunch.

—Iram. man. coram dago. Or drowned in the river Forth?—Iram. enclosing a Letter to Him. Is he to Abra'm's bosom gane?—Igo. and ago. This was thy billie. the Lord be near him!—Igo. whingin' sot. and ago.—Igo. coram. coram. and sire. he daur na steer him.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. May dool and sorrow be his lot. Is he south or is he north?—Igo. Ken ye aught o' Captain Grose?—Igo. Or haudin Sarah by the wame?—Iram. But please transmit th' enclosed letter. And ne'er guid wine did fear. and fire. For Matthew was a rare man. But now. As for the deil. and ago. and ago. coram dago. dago. Which will oblige your humble debtor. 478 Verses On Captain Grose Written on an Envelope. If he's amang his friends or foes?—Iram. For Matthew was a queer man. dago. dago. by Robert Burns For Matthew was a true man.—Iram. . and ago. Is he slain by Hielan' bodies?—Igo. To blame poor Matthew dare. Heavenly light. coram. coram. If ony whiggish. his radiant course is run. and ago. And eaten like a wether haggis?—Iram. dam. man. dago. If thou hast wit. A matchless. man. For Matthew's was a bright one! His soul was like the glorious sun. Where'er he be. and fun.

slaps and stiles. An' getting fou and unco happy. The coins o' Satan's coronation!—Iram coram dago. "Of Brownyis and of Bogillis full is this Buke. We think na on the lang Scots miles. and ago.—Igo. Nursing her wrath to keep it warm. waters. So may ye get in glad possession. 479 Tam O' Shanter A Tale. and ago. coram. neibors. O Tam! had'st thou but been sae wise. Where sits our sulky. And folk begin to tak the gate. That lie between us and our hame. As he frae Ayr ae night did canter: (Auld Ayr. While we sit bousing at the nappy. meet.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. When chapman billies leave the street. As market days are wearing late.—Igo. And drouthy neibors. wham ne'er a town surpasses. For honest men and bonie lasses). dago." Gawin Douglas. by Robert Burns So may ye hae auld stanes in store. As taen thy ain wife Kate's advice! She tauld thee weel thou was a skellum. sullen dame. The mosses. The very stanes that Adam bore. . Gathering her brows like gathering storm.—Iram. This truth fand honest Tam o' Shanter.

gentle dames! it gars me greet. bleezing finely. sweet. Ae market-day thou was na sober. Ah. That ev'ry naig was ca'd a shoe on The Smith and thee gat roarin' fou on. trusty. And at his elbow. and precious: The Souter tauld his queerest stories. His ancient. Fast by an ingle. How mony lengthen'd. haunted kirk. The night drave on wi' sangs an' clatter. And aye the ale was growing better: The Landlady and Tam grew gracious. Wi' favours secret. Thou drank wi' Kirkton Jean till Monday. drunken blellum. that drank divinely. deep drown'd in Doon. blustering. ev'n on Sunday. 480 . That frae November till October. drougthy crony: Tam lo'ed him like a very brither. They had been fou for weeks thegither. Or catch'd wi' warlocks in the mirk. To think how mony counsels sweet. Thou sat as lang as thou had siller. Souter Johnie. sage advices. Tam had got planted unco right. By Alloway's auld. She prophesied that late or soon. The husband frae the wife despises! But to our tale: Ae market night.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Wi reaming saats. Thou wad be found. That ilka melder wi' the Miller. by Robert Burns A blethering. That at the Lord's house.

but Tam was glorious. E'en drown'd himsel amang the nappy. Loud. its bloom is shed. The hour approaches Tam maun ride. Care.— Nae man can tether Time nor Tide. the thunder bellow'd: That night. That hour. As bees flee hame wi' lades o' treasure.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. A moment white—then melts for ever. o' night's black arch the key-stane. The rattling showers rose on the blast. deep. and lang. 481 . That dreary hour he mounts his beast in. Or like the snow falls in the river. Weel-mounted on his grey mare. by Robert Burns The Landlord's laugh was ready chorus: The storm without might rair and rustle. The minutes wing'd their way wi' pleasure: Kings may be blest. The speedy gleams the darkness swallow'd. O'er a' the ills o' life victorious! But pleasures are like poppies spread. mad to see a man sae happy. As ne'er poor sinner was abroad in. Or like the Rainbow's lovely form Evanishing amid the storm. You seize the flow'r. The deil had business on his hand. Tam did na mind the storm a whistle. a child might understand. And sic a night he taks the road in. The wind blew as 'twad blawn its last. Or like the Borealis race. Meg. That flit ere you can point their place.

And past the birks and meikle stane. Where Mungo's mither hang'd hersel'. glimmering thro' the groaning trees. Where hunters fand the murder'd bairn. Wi' usquabae. Kirk-Alloway seem'd in a bleeze. The lightnings flash from pole to pole. Where ghaists and houlets nightly cry. Where drunken Charlie brak's neck-bane. And near the thorn. Whiles crooning o'er some auld Scots sonnet. we'll face the devil! The swats sae ream'd in Tammie's noddle. we fear nae evil. Despising wind. The doubling storm roars thro' the woods. Whiles glow'rin round wi' prudent cares. and rain. Lest bogles catch him unawares. When. And loud resounded mirth and dancing. Thro' ilka bore the beams were glancing. and by the cairn. Inspiring bold John Barleycorn! What dangers thou canst make us scorn! Wi' tippenny. Tam skelpit on thro' dub and mire. And thro' the whins. Near and more near the thunders roll. Before him Doon pours all his floods. aboon the well. 482 . By this time he was cross the ford. Whiles holding fast his gude blue bonnet. Where in the snaw the chapman smoor'd. by Robert Burns A better never lifted leg.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Kirk-Alloway was drawing nigh. and fire.

wi' murder crusted. A winnock-bunker in the east. jigs. unchristened bairns. strathspeys. She ventur'd forward on the light. By which heroic Tam was able To note upon the haly table. Wi' his last gasp his gabudid gape. That shaw'd the Dead in their last dresses. A garter which a babe had strangled: A knife. A murderer's banes. But hornpipes. new-cutted frae a rape.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. To gie them music was his charge: He screw'd the pipes and gart them skirl. by the heel and hand admonish'd. in shape o' beast. in gibbet-airns. And (by some devilish cantraip sleight) Each in its cauld hand held a light. like open presses. by Robert Burns Fair play. brent new frae France. Twa span-lang. A towzie tyke. Till roof and rafters a' did dirl. Whom his ain son of life bereft. There sat auld Nick.— Coffins stood round. And. and large. Till. he car'd na deils a boddle. wi' blude red-rusted: Five scimitars. 483 . grim. A thief. black. Put life and mettle in their heels. But Maggie stood. right sair astonish'd. and reels. Five tomahawks. a father's throat had mangled. wow! Tam saw an unco sight! Warlocks and witches in a dance: Nae cotillon. wee.

Which even to name wad be unlawfu'. Lang after ken'd on Carrick shore. The Piper loud and louder blew. Louping an' flinging on a crummock. And shook baith meikle corn and bear. they cross'd. And perish'd mony a bonie boat. The reel'd. Wi' mair of horrible and awfu'. That ance were plush o' guid blue hair. and curious. 484 . auld and droll. As Tammie glowr'd. instead o' creeshie flainen. they cleekit. by Robert Burns The grey-hairs yet stack to the heft. I wonder did na turn thy stomach. Till ilka carlin swat and reekit. my only pair. A' plump and strapping in their teens! Their sarks. And coost her duddies to the wark. (For mony a beast to dead she shot. they set. I wad hae gien them off my hurdies. The mirth and fun grew fast and furious. O Tam! had they been queans. The dancers quick and quicker flew. Been snaw-white seventeen hunder linen!— Thir breeks o' mine. amaz'd. But Tam kent what was what fu' brawlie: There was ae winsome wench and waulie That night enlisted in the core.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. And linkit at it in her sark! Now Tam. For ae blink o' the bonie burdies! But wither'd beldams. Rigwoodie hags wad spean a foal.

syne anither. That while a lassie she had worn. As eager runs the market-crowd. As open pussie's mortal foes. In longitude tho' sorely scanty. Cutty-sark!" And in an instant all was dark: And scarcely had he Maggie rallied. So Maggie runs. and fidg'd fu' fain. And hotch'd and blew wi' might and main: Till first ae caper. Ah! little ken'd thy reverend grannie. Tam tint his reason a thegither.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Sic flights are far beyond her power. Her cutty sark. pop! she starts before their nose. And roars out. To sing how Nannie lap and flang. Wad ever grac'd a dance of witches! But here my Muse her wing maun cour. like ane bewithc'd. It was her best. 485 . As bees bizz out wi' angry fyke. When plundering herds assail their byke. o' Paisley harn. When out the hellish legion sallied. (A souple jade she was and strang). That sark she coft for her wee Nannie. And thought his very een enrich'd: Even Satan glowr'd. When "Catch the thief!" resounds aloud. Wi twa pund Scots ('twas a' her riches). When. the witches follow. by Robert Burns And kept the country-side in fear). and she was vauntie. And how Tam stood. "Weel done.

But little wist she Maggie's mettle! Ae spring brought off her master hale. Ilk man and mother's son. 486 On The Birth Of A Posthumous Child Born in peculiar circumstances of family distress. Remember Tam o' Shanter's mare. far before the rest. A running stream they dare na cross. do thy speedy-utmost. Meg. Now. And left poor Maggie scarce a stump. by Robert Burns Wi' mony an eldritch skreich and hollow. they'll roast thee like a herrin! In vain thy Kate awaits thy comin! Kate soon will be a woefu' woman! Now. Tam! thou'll get thy fairin! In hell. take heed: Whene'er to Drink you are inclin'd. But left behind her ain grey tail: The carlin claught her by the rump. And win the key-stone o' the brig. Think ye may buy the joys o'er dear. Hard upon noble Maggie prest. wha this tale o' truth shall read. Or Cutty-sarks rin in your mind. The fient a tail she had to shake! For Nannie. . Tam! Ah.^1 There. But ere the keystane she could make. at them thou thy tail may toss. Ah.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. And flew at Tam wi' furious ettle.

on thy lovely form: And gane. Sae helpless. pledge o' meikle love.] May He who gives the rain to pour. or any evil spirits. that when he falls in with bogles. And wings the blast to blaw. by Robert Burns Sweet flow'ret. And ward o' mony a prayer. It may be proper likewise to mention to the benighted traveller. The bitter frost and snaw. Blest be thy bloom. there is much more hazard in turning back. Protect thee frae the driving show'r. the friend o' Woe and Want. Protect and guard the mother plant. have no power to follow a poor wight any further than the middle of the next running stream. Now feebly bends she in the blast.—R. Chil. May He. rooted fast.B. Should shield thee frae the storm. Who heals life's various stounds. Unshelter'd and forlorn. What heart o' stane wad thou na move.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. But late she flourish'd. Fair in the summer morn. Unscath'd by ruffian hand! And from thee many a parent stem Arise to deck our land! 487 . sweet. and fair? November hirples o'er the lea. alas! the shelt'ring tree. thou lovely gem. And heal her cruel wounds. [Footnote 1: It is a well-known fact that witches. whatever danger may be in his going forward.

sweet maid. a prey to grief and care. Ye cease to charm. And not a Muse with honest grief bewail? We saw thee shine in youth and beauty's pride. o'erhanging dreary glens. lovely from her native skies. Ye woodland choir that chaunt your idle loves. To you I fly—ye with my soul accord.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Nor envious death so triumph'd in a blow. And thou. Ye mossy streams. Princes. Ye healthy wastes. The parent's heart that nestled fond in thee. But. And Virtue's light. As that which laid th' accomplish'd Burnet low. by Robert Burns 488 Elegy On The Late Miss Burnet Of Monboddo Life ne'er exulted in so rich a prize. ye groves. high Heaven above was truest shown. can I forget? In richest ore the brightest jewel set! In thee. that beams beyond the spheres. As Burnet. . immix'd with reedy fens. Thou crystal streamlet with thy flowery shore. whose cumb'rous pride was all their worth. Thy form and mind. Thou left us darkling in a world of tears. Shall venal lays their pompous exit hail. That heart how sunk. Eliza is no more. like the sun eclips'd at morning tide. sweet Excellence! forsake our earth. In vain ye flaunt in summer's pride. As by His noblest work the Godhead best is known. with sedge and rushes stor'd: Ye rugged cliffs.

Makes woodland echoes ring. 489 1791 Lament Of Mary. Now blooms the lily by the bank. Now laverocks wake the merry morn Aloft on dewy wing. The mavis wild wi' mony a note. Sings drowsy day to rest: In love and freedom they rejoice. Now Phoebus cheers the crystal streams. On The Approach Of Spring Now Nature hangs her mantle green On every blooming tree. And spreads her sheets o' daisies white Out o'er the grassy lea. Wi' care nor thrall opprest. by Robert Burns So deckt the woodbine sweet yon aged tree. But nought can glad the weary wight That fast in durance lies.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. So. And glads the azure skies. The primrose down the brae. from it ravish'd. The merle. in his noontide bow'r. Queen Of Scots. leaves it bleak and bare. And milk-white is the slae: The meanest hind in fair Scotland . The hawthorn's budding in the glen.

by Robert Burns May rove their sweets amang. And may those pleasures gild thy reign. Nor th' balm that draps on wounds of woe Frae woman's pitying e'e. Remember him for me! O! soon. My son! my son! may kinder stars Upon thy fortune shine. Fu' lightly raise I in the morn. Where happy I hae been. As blythe lay down at e'en: And I'm the sov'reign of Scotland. Yet here I lie in foreign bands. to me. The weeping blood in woman's breast Was never known to thee. And never-ending care. thou false woman. But as for thee. the Queen of a' Scotland.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. But I. may Summer suns Nae mair light up the morn! Nae mair to me the Autumn winds 490 . Grim Vengeance yet shall whet a sword That thro' thy soul shall gae. I was the Queen o' bonie France. That ne'er wad blink on mine! God keep thee frae thy mother's faes. My sister and my fae. Maun lie in prison strang. Or turn their hearts to thee: And where thou meet'st thy mother's friend. And mony a traitor there.

the tears doon came. Let Winter round me rave.— There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame. by Robert Burns Wave o'er the yellow corn? And. at the close of the day. and he tint his crown. But till my last moments my words are the same. It brak the sweet heart o' my faithful and dame. Delusions. the State is in jars. But now I greet round their green beds in the yerd. But what is the north and its Highlands to me? . and murderous wars. The Church is in ruins. Now life is a burden that bows me down.— There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Bloom on my peaceful grave! 491 There'll Never Be Peace Till Jamie Comes Hame By yon Castle wa'. We dare na weel say't. I heard a man sing.— There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame. I look to the North. in the narrow house of death.— There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame. oppressions. My seven braw sons for Jamie drew sword. tho' his head it was grey: And as he was singing. Song—Out Over The Forth Out over the Forth. but we ken wha's to blame. Sin' I tint my bairns. And the next flow'rs that deck the Spring.

The spreading flowers are fair.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. And sae did I o' mine: Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose. 492 The Banks O' Doon—First Version Sweet are the banks—the banks o' Doon. by Robert Burns The south nor the east gie ease to my breast. Aft hae I rov'd by bonie Doon. And ilka birds sang o' its Luve. or the wide rolling sea. And everything is blythe and glad. But I look to the west when I gae to rest. Thou'll break my heart. For sae I sat. The far foreign land. Thou minds me o' the happy days When my fause Luve was true: Thou'll break my heart. That happy my dreams and my slumbers may be. But I am fu' o' care. That sings beside thy mate. The man that is dear to my babie and me. But my fause Luver staw my rose And left the thorn wi' me: . That sings upon the bough. To see the woodbine twine. Upon its thorny tree. thou bonie bird. thou bonie bird. For far in the west lives he I loe best. And wist na o' my fate. and sae I sang.

Upon a morn in June. and sae I sang. And left the thorn wi' me. And sae I flourished on the morn. . And I sae fu' o care! Thou'll break my heart. thou bonie bird. by Robert Burns Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose. Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose. And sae did I o' mine. Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose. To see the woodbine twine. Aft hae I rov'd by bonie Doon. That sings beside thy mate. How can ye blume sae fair? How can ye chant. Upon a morn in June. And wist na o' my fate. But my fause Luver staw my rose. For sae I sat.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. ye little birds. And sae was pu'd or noon! 493 The Banks O' Doon—Second Version Ye flowery banks o' bonie Doon. Thou'll break my heart. Upon its thorny tree. That sings upon the bough! Thou minds me o' the happy days When my fause Luve was true. And ilka bird sang o' its Luve. thou bonie bird.

Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose. That wav'd o'er Lugar's winding stream: Beneath a craigy steep. To see the rose and woodbine twine: And ilka bird sang o' its Luve. And fondly sae did I o' mine. a Bard. By fits the sun's departing beam Look'd on the fading yellow woods. Earl Of Glencairn The wind blew hollow frae the hills. thou warbling bird. ye little birds.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. And sae was pu'd or noon. Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree! And may fause Luver staw my rose. And I sae weary fu' o' care! Thou'll break my heart. by Robert Burns And sae I flourished on the morn. Departed never to return. 494 The Banks O' Doon—Third Version Ye banks and braes o' bonie Doon. Lament For James. That wantons thro' the flowering thorn: Thou minds me o' departed joys. . How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair? How can ye chant. Aft hae I rov'd by Bonie Doon. But ah! he left the thorn wi' me.

by Robert Burns Laden with years and meikle pain. His locks were bleached white with time. And as he tun'd his doleful sang. The winds. 495 . In loud lament bewail'd his lord. But I maun lie before the storm. "I am a bending aged tree.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. lamenting thro' their caves. and glad and gay. He lean'd him to an ancient aik. And my last hald of earth is gane. To Echo bore the notes alang. And ithers plant them in my room. Nae simmer sun exalt my bloom. His hoary cheek was wet wi' tears! And as he touch'd his trembling harp. Again ye'll charm the ear and e'e. Nae leaf o' mine shall greet the spring. But nocht in all-revolving time Can gladness bring again to me. Whose trunk was mould'ring down with years. "I've seen sae mony changefu' years. The reliques o' the vernal queir! Ye woods that shed on a' the winds The honours of the aged year! A few short months. That long has stood the wind and rain. Whom Death had all untimely ta'en. On earth I am a stranger grown: I wander in the ways of men. But now has come a cruel blast. "Ye scatter'd birds that faintly sing.

"And last. (the sum of a' my griefs!) My noble master lies in clay. Accept this tribute from the Bard Thou brought from Fortune's mirkest gloom. Lie a' hat would my sorrows share. friend. low. unreliev'd. my harp! The voice of woe and wild despair! Awake. Thick mists obscure involv'd me round. The flow'r amang our barons bold. on beds of dust. his country's stay: In weary being now I pine. my last. resound thy latest lay. "In Poverty's low barren vale. I bear alane my lade o' care. On forward wing for ever fled. The friendless bard and rustic song Became alike thy fostering care. For silent.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. and unknown: Unheard. Then sleep in silence evermair! And thou. Nae ray of fame was to be found: Thou found'st me. by Robert Burns Alike unknowing. only. like the morning sun That melts the fogs in limpid air. That fillest an untimely tomb. 496 . Though oft I turn'd the wistful eye. "Awake thy last sad voice. His country's pride. And hope has left may aged ken. unpitied. best. For a' the life of life is dead.

The tearful tribute of a broken heart. the Patron lov'd. But I'll remember thee. And a' that thou hast done for me!" 497 Lines Sent To Sir John Whiteford. Bart With The Lament On The Death Of the Earl Of Glencairn Thou. by Robert Burns "O! why has worth so short a date. I. the noble. all the world approved: We'll mourn till we too go as he has gone. While villains ripen grey with time? Must thou. Who. And tread the shadowy path to that dark world unknown. his honour. The mother may forget the child That smiles sae sweetly on her knee. nought earthly fear'st. Glencairn. save thy mind's reproach. . His worth. Fall in bold manhood's hardy prim Why did I live to see that day— A day to me so full of woe? O! had I met the mortal shaft That laid my benefactor low! "The bridegroom may forget the bride Was made his wedded wife yestreen. who thy honour as thy God rever'st. The monarch may forget the crown That on his head an hour has been. gen'rous. To thee this votive offering I impart.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. The Friend thou valued'st. great.

My heart wad burst wi' anguish. While care my heart is wringing. soundly. Beyond thee. . beyond thee. In love to lie and languish. If thou refuse thy Johnie! Beyond thee. by Robert Burns 498 Craigieburn Wood Sweet closes the ev'ning on Craigieburn Wood. that will be seen. I see thee sweet and bonie.—Beyond thee. Chorus. dearie. dearie. And O to be lying beyond thee! O sweetly. And blythely awaukens the morrow. But secret love will break my heart. I maun na tell. &c. I can na tell. straight and tall. Beyond thee. what will my torment be. But oh. Beyond thee. But pleasure they hae nane for me. &c. To see thee in another's arms. If I conceal it langer. But the pride o' the spring in the Craigieburn Wood Can yield to me nothing but sorrow.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. I daur na for your anger. weel may he sleep That's laid in the bed beyond thee! I see the spreading leaves and flowers. I see thee gracefu'. &c. &c. I hear the wild birds singing. 'Twad be my dead.

and Love. and Mrs. Bonie wee thing. cannie wee thing. The Bonie Wee Thing Chorus. wert thou mine.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns.—Bonie wee thing. . Ask why God made the gem so small? And why so huge the granite?— Because God meant mankind should set That higher value on it. and Beauty. And my heart it stounds wi' anguish. In ae constellation shine. Wishfully I look and languish In that bonie face o' thine. Say thou lo'es nane before me. Beyond thee. Lest my wee thing be na mine. Goddess o' this soul o' mine! Bonie wee thing. &c. To adore thee is my duty. Lest my jewel it should tine. by Robert Burns But Jeanie. I wad wear thee in my bosom. Wit. and Grace. &c. Lovely wee thing. say thou wilt be mine. A—so big. 499 Epigram On Miss Davies On being asked why she had been formed so little. &c. And a' may days o' life to come I'l gratefully adore thee.

and owns the reign Of conquering. to dream of such a theme. lovely Davies. by Robert Burns 500 The Charms Of Lovely Davies Tune—"Miss Muir. when we maun part Frae charming. and every flower The garden is adorning: As the wretch looks o'er Siberia's shore." O how shall I.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Even they maun dare an effort mair Than aught they ever gave us. Sae droops our heart. Each eye it cheers when she appears. Her smile's a gift frae 'boon the lift. a king's command. Her feeble powers surrender: . unskilfu'. When winter-bound the wave is. in equal verse. When past the shower. Like Phoebus in the morning. That whisper inspiration. A sceptred hand. He hugs his chain. Ere they rehearse. That maks us mair than princes. Is in her darting glances. The charms o' lovely Davies. try The poet's occupation? The tunefu' powers. lovely Davies. in happy hours. My Muse. The man in arms 'gainst female charms Even he her willing slave is.

I'll do my endeavour to follow her plan. by Robert Burns The eagle's gaze alone surveys The sun's meridian splendour.— O.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. he frets and he cankers. I'll drap the lyre. He hoasts and he hirples the weary day lang. He's peevish an' jealous o' a' the young fellows. what shall a young lassie. Bad luck on the penny that tempted my minnie To sell her puir Jenny for siller an' lan'! He's always compleenin' frae mornin' to e'enin'. My auld auntie Katie upon me taks pity. O. What can a young lassie do wi' an auld man? Bad luck on the penny that tempted my minnie To sell her puir Jenny for siller an' lan'. I wad in vain essay the strain. I never can please him do a' that I can. The deed too daring brave is. dreary's the night wi' a crazy auld man! He's doylt and he's dozin. his blude it is frozen. O. 501 What Can A Young Lassie Do Wi' An Auld Man What can a young lassie. dool on the day I met wi' an auld man. dool on the day I met wi' an auld man! He's peevish an' jealous o' a' the young fellows. . He's doylt and he's dozin. his blude it is frozen. dreary's the night wi' a crazy auld man. He hums and he hankers. and mute admire The charms o' lovely Davies.— O.

The lily it is pure. until I heartbreak him And then his auld brass will buy me a new pan. The woodbine I will pu'. when Phoebus peeps in view. For it's like a baumy kiss o' her sweet. And I will pu' the pink. For she's the pink o' womankind. I'll pu' the budding rose. I'll cross him an' wrack him.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. And a' to be a Posie to my ain dear May. until I heartbreak him. Where. But the songster's nest within the bush I winna tak away And a' to be a Posie to my ain dear May. . the emblem o' my dear. the firstling o' the year. it stands at break o' day. wi' its locks o' siller gray. bonie mou. The daisy's for simplicity and unaffected air. The hawthorn I will pu'. The hyacinth's for constancy wi' its unchanging blue. And a' to pu' a Posie to my ain dear May. But I will doun yon river rove. And a' to be a Posie to my ain dear May. like an aged man. And a' to be a Posie to my ain dear May. by Robert Burns I'll cross him an' wrack him. amang the wood sae green. 502 The Posie O luve will venture in where it daur na weel be seen. And then his auld brass will buy me a new pan. when the e'ening star is near. and blooms without a peer. And in her lovely bosom I'll place the lily there. And the diamond draps o' dew shall be her een sae clear. and the lily it is fair. The primrose I will pu'. O luve will venture in where wisdom ance has been.

503 On Glenriddell's Fox Breaking His Chain A Fragment. thou art my theme. But when thy luckless rider blunders. and I'll swear by a' above. . as round's an apple. And a' to be a Posie to my ain dear May. 1791. That when thou pleasest canst do wonders. Could'st thou enslave a free-born creature. And this will be a Posie to my ain dear May. Wilt break thy neck ere thou go further. handsome dapple. stubborn. Or if thy fancy should demur there. That to my latest draught o' life the band shall ne'er remove. Liberty. Thou.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. which weel she fa's to wear. I paint thee out. How he his liberty regained. a Highland filly. A Whig in principle and grain. A sturdy. Glenriddell! Whig without a stain. I'll tie the Posie round wi' the silken band o' luve. Who trick thee up a heathen goddess That a fantastic cap and rod has. These things premised. Not such as idle poets dream. I sing a Fox. As sleek's a mouse. And I'll place it in her breast. Was caught among his native rocks. And to a dirty kennel chained. Such stale conceits are poor and silly. by Robert Burns The violet's for modesty.

Thought cutting throats was reaping glory. (A better ne'er was sluiced with blood!) Nail a poor devil to a tree. With all the dignity of Freemen. That now are galley-slaves in hell. with a heart so good. How mighty Rome her fiat hurl'd Resistless o'er a bowing world.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. 504 . Sir Reynard daily heard debates Of Princes'. How fell Semiramis—God damn her! Did first. How Nimrod first the trade began Of binding Slavery's chains on Man. How Xerxes. Quite frantic in his country's cause. Kings'. (All ills till then were trivial matters) For Man dethron'd forge hen-peck fetters. And with his brother-Whigs canvassing The Rights of Men. With many rueful. Until the stubborn Whigs of Sparta Taught him great Nature's Magna Charta. by Robert Burns A native denizen of Nature? How could'st thou. That ne'er did harm to thine or thee? The staunchest Whig Glenriddell was. And. bloody stories Of Tyrants. that abandoned Tory. the Powers of Women. kinder than they did desire. and Tories: From liberty how angels fell. And oft was Reynard's prison passing. and Nations' fates. with sacrilegious hammer. Jacobites.

While loud the trump's heroic clang. With much. And sock or buskin skelp alang . Knew Britain's rights and constitution. how Billy Pitt (Unlucky boy!) with wicked wit. As butchers bind and bleed a heifer. or sunk enerv'd 'Mang heaps o' clavers: And och! o'er aft thy joes hae starv'd. too tedious to relate. In kennel listening at his ease. Her aggrandisement. As much as some folks at a College. Thus wily Reynard by degrees. Of ancient and of modern date. thy train amang. 'Mid a' thy favours! Say. Lassie.' Since we to scoundrels owe our freedom. 505 Poem On Pastoral Poetry Hail. despise the Devil. by Robert Burns Polish'd mankind with sword and fire. why. Poesie! thou Nymph reserv'd! In chase o' thee. what crowds hae swerv'd Frae common sense. drain'd her coffer. Has gagg'd old Britain. Suck'd in a mighty stock of knowledge. But ending still.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Let no man. How fortune wrought us good from evil. then. diminution. 'I never can need him. As who should say.

And rural grace. The teeth o' time may gnaw Tantallan. Scarce ane has tried the shepherd—sang But wi' miscarriage? In Homer's craft Jock Milton thrives. In thy sweet sang. Squire Pope but busks his skinklin' patches O' heathen tatters: I pass by hunders. wi' the far-fam'd Grecian. come forrit. And. In thy sweet Caledonian lines. 506 . A chiel sae clever. Eschylus' pen Will Shakespeare drives. Thou paints auld Nature to the nines. by Robert Burns To death or marriage. survives Even Sappho's flame. That ape their betters. In this braw age o' wit and lear. Maro's catches. the knurlin'. honest Allan! Thou need na jouk behint the hallan. share A rival place? Yes! there is ane—a Scottish callan! There's ane. But thee. Nae gowden stream thro' myrtle twines. Wee Pope.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Will nane the Shepherd's whistle mair Blaw sweetly in its native air. nameless wretches. Theocritus. till him rives Horatian fame. But thou's for ever. Barbauld. wha matches? They're no herd's ballats.

Wi' hawthorns gray. Thy rural loves are Nature's sel'. That charm that can the strongest quell. When from the eddying deep below. Her griefs will tell! In gowany glens thy burnie strays. And drank my fill o' fancy's dream. by Robert Burns Where Philomel. Nae bombast spates o' nonsense swell. Or trots by hazelly shaws and braes. And deep. Where blackbirds join the shepherd's lays. I sat me down upon a craig. At close o' day. Dark. Nae snap conceits. 507 Verses On The Destruction Of The Woods Near Drumlanrig As on the banks o' wandering Nith. Ae smiling simmer morn I stray'd. but that sweet spell O' witchin love. like his wintry wave. Up rose the genius of the stream. as sughs the boding wind . The sternest move.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. his brow. Where linties sang and lammies play'd. While nightly breezes sweep the vines. Where bonie lasses bleach their claes. like the frowning rock. And traced its bonie howes and haughs. And troubled.

That scatters blight in early spring? Or was't the wil'fire scorch'd their boughs. clamb the hill. That." he cried. "what ruefu' chance Has twin'd ye o' your stately trees? Has laid your rocky bosom bare— Has stripped the cleeding o' your braes? Was it the bitter eastern blast. And peacefu' rose its ingle reek. And scarce a stinted birk is left To shiver in the blast its lane." the sprite replied. When a' my banks sae bravely saw Their woody pictures in my tide. slowly curling. When hanging beech and spreading elm Shaded my stream sae clear and cool: And stately oaks their twisted arms Threw broad and dark across the pool." "Alas!" quoth I. Ye might hae seen me in my pride. appear'd The wee white cot aboon the mill. the sigh he gave— "And come ye here. my son. glinting thro' the trees. Or canker-worm wi' secret sting?" "Nae eastlin blast. "To wander in my birken shade? To muse some favourite Scottish theme. But now the cot is bare and cauld. Its leafy bield for ever gane.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. it's nae lang syne. "When. 508 . Or sing some favourite Scottish maid? "There was a time. by Robert Burns Amang his caves.

And I was fear'd my heart wad tine. I had wooers aught or nine. O. While corn grows green in summer showers. While birds rejoice in leafy bowers. There lives a lad. And give it to the Weaver. They gied me rings and ribbons fine. To gie the lad that has the land. My daddie sign'd my tocher-band. the lad for me."^1 509 The Gallant Weaver Where Cart rins rowin' to the sea. By mony a flower and spreading tree. And on my dry and halesome banks Nae canker-worms get leave to dwell: Man! cruel man!" the genius sighed— As through the cliffs he sank him down— "The worm that gnaw'd my bonie trees.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. That reptile wears a ducal crown. While bees delight in opening flowers. He is a gallant Weaver. [Footnote 1: The Duke of Queensberry. And I gied it to the Weaver. I love my gallant Weaver. by Robert Burns "It blaws na here sae fierce and fell. But to my heart I'll add my hand.] .

And art can ne'er renew it. May foes be strang. You're welcome. That's half so fair as thou art! The flower it blaws. To welcome Willie Stewart. But why always Bacon—come.—You're welcome. Willie Stewart. Willie Stewart Chorus. O charming Polly Stewart. That's half sae welcome's thou art! Come. Willie Stewart. The bowl we maun renew it. it fa's. Lovely Polly Stewart Chorus. May woman on him turn her back That wrangs thee. . We've a' thing that's nice. You're welcome. There's ne'er a flower that blooms in May. You're welcome. bumpers high. by Robert Burns 510 Epigram At Brownhill Inn^1 At Brownhill we always get dainty good cheer. it fades. express your joy. may he rue it. Willie Stewart. tell me a reason? You're Welcome. Willie Stewart.—O lovely Polly Stewart. Willie Stewart. gae bring her ben. &c. There's ne'er a flower that blooms in May. and friends be slack Ilk action. And plenty of bacon each day in the year.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. and mostly in season. &c. The tappet hen.

Cock Up Your Beaver When first my brave Johnie lad came to this town. Sir. And glances o'er the brae. cock up your beaver! . the echoes rang. The wild birds sang.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Hey. There Damon lay. where mony a flower Sheds fragrance on the day. To love they thought no crime. eternal youth Will gie to Polly Stewart. Johnie Lad. Sir. But now he has gotten a hat and a feather." Yon wandering rill that marks the hill. The lines are said to have "afforded much amusement. &c. with Sylvia gay. 511 Fragment. While Damon's heart beat time."—Lang] May he whase arms shall fauld thy charms Possess a leal and true heart! To him be given to ken the heaven He grasps in Polly Stewart! O lovely Polly Stewart. &c. by Robert Burns But worth and truth. Slides by a bower. brave Johnie lad. Sir. He had a blue bonnet that wanted the crown. [Footnote 1: Bacon was the name of a presumably intrusive host. O lovely Polly Stewart.—Damon And Sylvia Tune—"The Tither Morn. Sir.

she's kissin the laird. my Eppie Macnab? She's down in the yard. What says she. my dearie. be it sune. There's somebody there we'll teach better behaviour. by Robert Burns Cock up your beaver. my Eppie Macnab? O saw ye my dearie. We'll over the border. Thou's broken the heart o' thy ain Jock Rab.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. my Eppie Macnab? She let's thee to wit that she has thee forgot. and gie them a brush. cock up your beaver! 512 My Eppie Macnab O saw ye my dearie. Whate'er thou hast dune. and cock it fu' sprush. my dearie. be it late. my Eppie Macnab. my Eppie Macnab. Altho' He Has Left Me Altho' he has left me for greed o' the siller. She winna come hame to her ain Jock Rab. Hey. And for ever disowns thee. I rather wad bear a' the lade o' my sorrow. and as fause as thou's fair. . her ain Jock Rab. my Eppie Macnab! O had I ne'er seen thee. my Eppie Macnab! As light as the air. O had I ne'er seen thee. Thou's welcome again to thy ain Jock Rab. O come thy ways to me. my Eppie Macnab? What says she. I dinna envy him the gains he can win. O come thy ways to me. brave Johnie lad.

My laddie's sae meikle in luve wi' the siller. My tocher's the bargain ye wad buy. . O For Ane An' Twenty. An' I saw ane an' twenty. 513 My Tocher's The Jewel O Meikle thinks my luve o' my beauty.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. And ye'll crack your credit wi' mae nor me. Ye're like to the bark o' yon rotten tree. Ye're like to the timmer o' yon rotten wood. They snool me sair. But an ye be crafty. Tam! I'll learn my kin a rattlin' sang. Tam! And hey. Ye'll slip frae me like a knotless thread. He canna hae luve to spare for me. It's a' for the apple he'll nourish the tree. Your proffer o' luve's an airle-penny. and haud me down. An' gar me look like bluntie. Tam. And meikle thinks my luve o' my kin.—An' O for ane an' twenty. But little thinks my luve I ken brawlie My tocher's the jewel has charms for him. It's a' for the hinny he'll cherish the bee. Tam. Sae ye wi anither your fortune may try. by Robert Burns Than ever hae acted sae faithless to him. Tam Chorus. I am cunnin'. sweet ane an' twenty.

hae I offended? My offence is loving thee. thou fair Eliza! Ae kind blink before we part. Wha for thine would gladly die? While the life beats in my bosom. 514 Thou Fair Eliza Turn again. They'll hae me wed a wealthy coof. But. a claut o' gear. An' O for. Tam. Rue on thy despairing lover. in pity hide the sentence Under friendship's kind disguise! Thee. Was left me by my auntie. Can'st thou break his faithfu' heart? Turn again. . An I saw ane an' twenty. Tam. An' then comes ane an' twenty. thou fair Eliza! If to love thy heart denies. An' O for.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Tam! An' O for. A glieb o' lan'. &c. sweet maid. Oh. Tam. by Robert Burns But three short years will soon wheel roun'. &c. Tho' I mysel' hae plenty. Tam. hear'st thou laddie! there's my loof. At kith or kin I need na spier. &c. Can'st thou wreck his peace for ever. I'm thine at ane an' twenty.

Not the little sporting fairy. The yellow Autumn presses near. And bonie blue are the sunny skies. The ev'ning gilds the ocean's swell.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. 515 My Bonie Bell The smiling Spring comes in rejoicing. feels the rapture. All creatures joy in the sun's returning. life advancing. Kens the pleasure. And surly Winter grimly flies. Fresh o'er the mountains breaks forth the morning. In the pride o' sinny noon. thou lovely maiden. That thy presence gies to me. . And I rejoice in my bonie Bell. Till smiling Spring again appear: Thus seasons dancing. The flowery Spring leads sunny Summer. still unchanging. Not the bee upon the blossom. But never ranging. All beneath the simmer moon. Not the Minstrel in the moment Fancy lightens in his e'e. Then in his turn comes gloomy Winter. Old Time and Nature their changes tell. Ae sweet smile on me bestow. Now crystal clear are the falling waters. by Robert Burns Thou shalt mix in ilka throe: Turn again.

Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den. There daily I wander as noon rises high. sweet Afton. thy neighbouring hills. And winds by the cot where my Mary resides. sweet river. the primroses blow. How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below. Flow gently. How lofty. I'll sing thee a song in thy praise. how lovely it glides. sweet Afton! amang thy green braes. sweet Afton. Flow gently. amang thy green braes. by Robert Burns I adore my bonie Bell. Thou green-crested lapwing thy screaming forbear. gathering sweet flowerets. Flow gently. she stems thy clear wave.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. the theme of my lays. My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream. The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me. Where. Afton. Far mark'd with the courses of clear. . I charge you. Thy crystal stream. My flocks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eye. disturb not my slumbering Fair. My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream. disturb not her dream. Flow gently. 516 Sweet Afton Flow gently. Thou stockdove whose echo resounds thro' the glen. There oft. winding rills. wild in the woodlands. How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave. disturb not her dream. Flow gently. As. sweet Afton. as mild Ev'ning weeps over the lea. sweet Afton.

Or pranks the sod in frolic mood. While Autumn. Yet oft.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Retreats to Dryburgh's cooling shade. stops to trace The progress of the spiky blade. by Robert Burns 517 Address To The Shade Of Thomson On Crowning His Bust at Ednam. with self-approving mind. sweet Poet of the year! Shall bloom that wreath thou well hast won. And they'll gae big Terreagles' towers And set them a' in order. And sees. Or tunes Eolian strains between. . Each creature on his bounty fed. Rousing the turbid torrent's roar. delighted. with a Wreath of Bays. benefactor kind. Or sweeping. Nithsdale's Welcome Hame The noble Maxwells and their powers Are coming o'er the border. with exulting tear. While virgin Spring by Eden's flood. Roxburghshire. Proclaims that Thomson was her son. Unfolds her tender mantle green. a waste of snows. While Summer. While Scotia. While maniac Winter rages o'er The hills whence classic Yarrow flows. So long. with a matron grace. By Tweed erects his aged head. wild.

and peace restore. 518 Frae The Friends And Land I Love Tune—"Carron Side. so dawning day has brought relief. The happy hour may soon be near That brings us pleasant weather: The weary night o' care and grief May hae a joyfu' morrow. nae mair severe. Fareweel our night o' sorrow. Tho' stars in skies may disappear. Pleasures but unveil despair. ." Frae the friends and land I love. Driv'n by Fortune's felly spite. wi' laurel'd head. Till Revenge.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. And angry tempests gather. relief frae care. Brightest climes shall mirk appear. For their abode they choose it. Friendship. love. by Robert Burns And they declare Terreagles fair. Never mair to taste delight: Never mair maun hope to find Ease frae toil. Desert ilka blooming shore. When Remembrance wracks the mind. Frae my best belov'd I rove. Till the Fates. There's no a heart in a' the land But's lighter at the news o't.

Is wrought now by a coward few. And ilk loyal. I'll mak this declaration. 519 Such A Parcel Of Rogues In A Nation Fareweel to a' our Scottish fame. Fareweel our ancient glory. Thro' many warlike ages. An' Tweed rins to the ocean. Fareweel ev'n to the Scottish name. Sae fam'd in martial story. But English gold has been our bane— Such a parcel of rogues in a nation! O would. or I had seen the day That Treason thus could sell us. bonie lad Cross the seas. Wi' Bruce and loyal Wallace! But pith and power. The English stell we could disdain. and win his ain. We're bought and sold for English gold— . To mark where England's province stands— Such a parcel of rogues in a nation! What force or guile could not subdue. For hireling traitor's wages. Now Sark rins over Solway sands. till my last hour.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. by Robert Burns Bring our banished hame again. My auld grey head had lien in clay. Secure in valour's station.

Then let your schemes alone in the state. for to draw. in the state. by Robert Burns Such a parcel of rogues in a nation! 520 Ye Jacobites By Name Ye Jacobites by name. I Hae Been At Crookieden I Hae been at Crookieden. wi' bluidy war? Then let your schemes alone. My bonie laddie. and What is Wrang. you shall hear. give an ear. give an ear. What is Right. Your doctrines I maun blame. A weak arm and a strang. What makes heroic strife. Adore the rising sun. and what is Wrang? A short sword. Or hunt a Parent's life. Ye Jacobites by name. . Your fautes I will proclaim. Highland laddie. in the state. famed afar? What makes heroic strife famed afar? What makes heroic strife? To whet th' assassin's knife. Ye Jacobites by name. by the law? What is Right and what is Wrang by the law? What is Right. to his fate. And leave a man undone. Then let your schemes alone. give an ear. famed afar.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. and a lang. by the law.

And loud the laugh gied round a' hell My bonie laddie. Highland laddie. My bonie laddie. Highland laddie. O Kenmure's on and awa: An' Kenmure's lord's the bravest lord That ever Galloway saw. . Willie! Here's Kenmure's health in wine! There's ne'er a coward o' Kenmure's blude. Breaking sticks to roast the Duke. Highland laddie. Willie! Success to Kenmure's band! There's no a heart that fears a Whig. The bloody monster gae a yell. Highland laddie. My bonie laddie. Success to Kenmure's band. Satan sits in his black neuk. 521 O Kenmure's On And Awa. Highland laddie. My bonie laddie. Willie. they gat their due. There our foes that burnt and slew. My bonie laddie. That rides by kenmure's hand. at last. My bonie laddie. There. by Robert Burns Viewing Willie and his men. Highland laddie.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Willie O Kenmure's on and awa. My bonie laddie. Here's Kenmure's health in wine. Highland laddie. Nor yet o' Gordon's line.

aye unsour'd by care or grief: Inspir'd. The rose that's like the snaw. And I can tell that bounteous Heaven (The second-sight.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. But sune. is given To ilka Poet) On thee a tack o' seven times seven Will yet bestow it. 522 Epistle To John Maxwell. I see thy life is stuff o' prief. May Kenmure's lord come hame! Here's him that's far awa. This day thou metes threescore eleven. I turn'd Fate's sibyl leaf. ESQ. If envious buckies view wi' sorrow . ye ken. Health to the Maxwell's veteran Chief! Health. This natal morn. They'll live or die wi' fame. O Kenmure's lads are men. Willie.. by Robert Burns O Kenmure's lads are men. They'll live or die wi' fame. Scarce quite half-worn. And that their foes shall ken. Willie. Willie! Here's him that's far awa! And here's the flower that I loe best. wi' sounding victorie. Of Terraughty On His Birthday. Their hearts and swords are metal true.

by Robert Burns Thy lengthen'd days on this blest morrow. May couthie Fortune. Will generous Graham list to his Poet's wail? (It soothes poor Misery. Wi' mornings blythe. Baith honest men. Nine miles an hour. May Desolation's lang-teeth'd harrow. In social glee. listless. And doubly curse the luckless rhyming trade? . Late crippl'd of an arm. ESQ. Rake them.. And then the deil. and now a leg.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Dull. hearkening to her tale) And hear him curse the light he first survey'd. teas'd. 523 Second Epistle To Robert Graham. Bless them and thee! Fareweel. and they are mony. and deprest (Nature is adverse to a cripple's rest). Of Fintry 5th October 1791. and e'enings funny. About to beg a pass for leave to beg. While Burns they ca' me. But for thy friends. he daurna steer ye: Your friends aye love. In brunstane stour. For me. your faes aye fear ye. like Sodom and Gomorrah. and lassies bonie. kind and cannie. shame fa' me. dejected. If neist my heart I dinna wear ye. auld birkie! Lord be near ye.

Mammon's trusty cur. In naked feeling. by Robert Burns Thou. fenceless. In all th' omnipotence of rule and power. He bears th' unbroken blast from ev'ry side: Vampyre booksellers drain him to the heart. guards his cell. The cit and polecat stink. The lion and the bull thy care have found. are snug. naked child—the Bard! A thing unteachable in world's skill. No horns. alas! not. I venture on the name. Thy minions kings defend. but those by luckless Hymen worn. Ev'n silly woman has her warlike arts. Her tongue and eyes—her dreaded spear and darts. and one spurns the ground. And half an idiot too. But Oh! thou bitter step-mother and hard. Thou giv'st the ass his hide. Toads with their poison. his hated sight to shun. doctors with their drug. To thy poor. and are secure. The priest and hedgehog in their robes. and in aching pride. Th' envenom'd wasp. Critics—appall'd. And those. I arraign.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Nature! partial Nature. more helpless still: No heels to bear him from the op'ning dun. control. And scorpion critics cureless venom dart. One shakes the forests. Of thy caprice maternal I complain. victorious. No claws to dig. Clad in rich Dulness' comfortable fur. Foxes and statesmen subtile wiles ensure. Those cut-throat bandits in the paths of fame: 524 . the snail his shell. devour. Amalthea's horn: No nerves olfact'ry.

He hacks to teach. 525 . They only wonder "some folks" do not starve. bleeding. If mantling high she fills the golden cup. fled each hope that once his bosom fir'd. And thro' disastrous night they darkling grope. With deaf endurance sluggishly they bear. by Robert Burns Bloody dissectors. And thinks the mallard a sad worthless dog. Lies. Foil'd. by some hedge. By blockheads' daring into madness stung. When disappointments snaps the clue of hope. His well-won bays. Low sunk in squalid. senseless of each tugging bitch's son. who ne'er one sprig must wear.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. By toil and famine wore to skin and bone. For half-starv'd snarling curs a dainty feast. Dead even resentment for his injur'd page. or torrid beams. worse than ten Monroes. The hapless Poet flounders on thro' life: Till. He heeds or feels no more the ruthless critic's rage! So. tortur'd in th' unequal strife. than life itself more dear. O Dulness! portion of the truly blest! Calm shelter'd haven of eternal rest! Thy sons ne'er madden in the fierce extremes Of Fortune's polar frost. With sober selfish ease they sip it up. they mangle to expose: His heart by causeless wanton malice wrung. unprotected age. The grave sage hern thus easy picks his frog. And fled each muse that glorious once inspir'd. Conscious the bounteous meed they well deserve. the gen'rous steed deceas'd. By miscreants torn.

heavy. I dread thee. and ye skies. Not such the workings of their moon-struck brain. Time of the day—evening. Now gay with the broad setting sun. And left us darkling in a world of tears). the truly noble. or vaulted hell. husband's. By turns in soaring heav'n. The wounded and dying of the victorious army are supposed to join in the following song. With all a poet's. selfish pray'r! Fintry. father's fear! Already one strong hold of hope is lost— Glencairn. and soothe his latest breath. Strong on the sign-post stands the stupid ox. Fate. In equanimity they never dwell." So." Scene—A Field of Battle. . passive to the tempest's shocks. like the sun eclips'd as noon appears. And bright in cloudless skies his sun go down! May bliss domestic smooth his private path. thou fair day. lies in dust (Fled. O! hear my ardent. grateful. relentless and severe. my other stay. thou green earth. Give energy to life. by Robert Burns And just conclude that "fools are fortune's care.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Farewell. long bless and spare! Thro' a long life his hopes and wishes crown. With many a filial tear circling the bed of death! 526 The Song Of Death Tune—"Oran an aoig. Not so the idle Muses' mad-cap train.

frighten the coward and slave. behold the lily Blooming in the sunny ray: Let the blast sweep o'er the valley. While victory shines on Life's last ebbing sands. . Telling o'er his little joys. See it prostrate in the clay.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. thou Life's gloomy foe! Go. Hear the wood lark charm the forest. Nor saves e'en the wreck of a name. ye dear tender ties. But distress. teach them to tremble. Dearest Nancy.— O! who would not die with the brave! 527 Poem On Sensibility Sensibility. with horrors arming. how charming. He falls in the blaze of his fame! In the field of proud honour—our swords in our hands. Thou alas! hast known too well! Fairest flower. Our King and our country to save. Thou strik'st the young hero—a glorious mark. loves and friendships. thou canst tell. Our race of existence is run! Thou grim King of Terrors. Go. But alas! a prey the surest To each pirate of the skies. fell tyrant! but know No terrors hast thou to the brave! Thou strik'st the dull peasant—he sinks in the dark. by Robert Burns Farewell.

An' there ye saw your picture. withered spectre? Ye only spied the keekin'-glass. A cauld kirk. 528 The Toadeater Of Lordly acquaintance you boast. The Keekin'-Glass How daur ye ca' me howlet-face. Tho' it crawl on the curl of a Queen! Divine Service In The Kirk Of Lamington As cauld a wind as ever blew. an in't but few: As cauld a minister's e'er spak.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. . Yet an insect's an insect at most. Ye blear-e'ed. And the Dukes that you dined wi' yestreen. by Robert Burns Dearly bought the hidden treasure Finer feelings can bestow: Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure Thrill the deepest notes of woe. Ye'se a' be het e'er I come back.

And grateful would adore. whether granted. with such store. Power above! Still grant us. Amen! A Grace After Dinner. thy morn was ne'er so sweet As the mirk night o' December! For sparkling was the rosy wine. by Robert Burns 529 A Grace Before Dinner. Heavenly Guide. But I will aye remember: .Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. The friend we trust. Thy goodness constantly we prove. in whom we live and move— Who made the sea and shore. May never worse be sent. Lord. Extempore O thou. But. And. God of Nature wide. Amen! O May. Thy Morn O may. or denied. the fair we love— And we desire no more. bless us with content. if it please Thee. Extempore O thou who kindly dost provide For every creature's want! We bless Thee. For all Thy goodness lent: And if it please Thee. And private was the chamber: And dear was she I dare na name.

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
And dear was she I dare na name, But I will aye remember. And here's to them that, like oursel, Can push about the jorum! And here's to them that wish us weel, May a' that's guid watch o'er 'em! And here's to them, we dare na tell, The dearest o' the quorum! And here's to them, we dare na tell, The dearest o' the quorum.

530

Ae Fond Kiss, And Then We Sever
Tune—"Rory Dall's Port." Ae fond kiss, and then we sever; Ae fareweel, alas, for ever! Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee, Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee. Who shall say that Fortune grieves him, While the star of hope she leaves him? Me, nae cheerful twinkle lights me; Dark despair around benights me. I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy, Naething could resist my Nancy: But to see her was to love her; Love but her, and love for ever. Had we never lov'd sae kindly, Had we never lov'd sae blindly, Never met—or never parted,

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
We had ne'er been broken-hearted. Fare-thee-weel, thou first and fairest! Fare-thee-weel, thou best and dearest! Thine be ilka joy and treasure, Peace, Enjoyment, Love and Pleasure! Ae fond kiss, and then we sever! Ae fareweeli alas, for ever! Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee, Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.

531

Behold The Hour, The Boat, Arrive
Behold the hour, the boat, arrive! My dearest Nancy, O fareweel! Severed frae thee, can I survive, Frae thee whom I hae lov'd sae weel? Endless and deep shall be my grief; LNae ray of comfort shall I see, But this most precious, dear belief, That thou wilt still remember me! Alang the solitary shore Where flitting sea-fowl round me cry, Across the rolling, dashing roar, I'll westward turn my wishful eye. "Happy thou Indian grove," I'll say, "Where now my Nancy's path shall be! While thro' your sweets she holds her way, O tell me, does she muse on me?"

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns

532

Thou Gloomy December
Ance mair I hail thee, thou gloomy December! Ance mair I hail thee wi' sorrow and care; Sad was the parting thou makes me remember— Parting wi' Nancy, oh, ne'er to meet mair! Fond lovers' parting is sweet, painful pleasure, Hope beaming mild on the soft parting hour; But the dire feeling, O farewell for ever! Is anguish unmingled, and agony pure! Wild as the winter now tearing the forest, Till the last leaf o' the summer is flown; Such is the tempest has shaken my bosom, Till my last hope and last comfort is gone. Still as I hail thee, thou gloomy December, Still shall I hail thee wi' sorrow and care; For sad was the parting thou makes me remember, Parting wi' Nancy, oh, ne'er to meet mair.

My Native Land Sae Far Awa
O sad and heavy, should I part, But for her sake, sae far awa; Unknowing what my way may thwart, My native land sae far awa. Thou that of a' things Maker art, That formed this Fair sae far awa, Gie body strength, then I'll ne'er start At this my way sae far awa. How true is love to pure desert!

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
Like mine for her sae far awa; And nocht can heal my bosom's smart, While, oh, she is sae far awa! Nane other love, nane other dart, I feel but her's sae far awa; But fairer never touch'd a heart Than her's, the Fair, sae far awa.

533

1792

I do Confess Thou Art Sae Fair
Alteration of an Old Poem. I Do confess thou art sae fair, I was been o'er the lugs in luve, Had I na found the slightest prayer That lips could speak thy heart could muve. I do confess thee sweet, but find Thou art so thriftless o' thy sweets, Thy favours are the silly wind That kisses ilka thing it meets. See yonder rosebud, rich in dew, Amang its native briers sae coy; How sune it tines its scent and hue, When pu'd and worn a common toy. Sic fate ere lang shall thee betide, Tho' thou may gaily bloom awhile; And sune thou shalt be thrown aside,

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
Like ony common weed and vile.

534

Lines On Fergusson, The Poet
Ill-fated genius! Heaven-taught Fergusson! What heart that feels and will not yield a tear, To think Life's sun did set e'er well begun To shed its influence on thy bright career. O why should truest Worth and Genius pine Beneath the iron grasp of Want and Woe, While titled knaves and idiot—Greatness shine In all the splendour Fortune can bestow?

The Weary Pund O' Tow
Chorus.—The weary pund, the weary pund, The weary pund o' tow; I think my wife will end her life, Before she spin her tow. I bought my wife a stane o' lint, As gude as e'er did grow, And a' that she has made o' that Is ae puir pund o' tow. The weary pund, &c. There sat a bottle in a bole, Beyont the ingle low; And aye she took the tither souk, To drouk the stourie tow. The weary pund, &c.

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
Quoth I, For shame, ye dirty dame, Gae spin your tap o' tow! She took the rock, and wi' a knock, She brak it o'er my pow. The weary pund, &c. At last her feet—I sang to see't! Gaed foremost o'er the knowe, And or I wad anither jad, I'll wallop in a tow. The weary pund, &c.

535

When She Cam' Ben She Bobbed
O when she cam' ben she bobbed fu' law, O when she cam' ben she bobbed fu' law, And when she cam' ben, she kiss'd Cockpen, And syne denied she did it at a'. And was na Cockpen right saucy witha'? And was na Cockpen right saucy witha'? In leaving the daughter of a lord, And kissin' a collier lassie an' a'! O never look down, my lassie, at a', O never look down, my lassie, at a', Thy lips are as sweet, and thy figure complete, As the finest dame in castle or ha'. Tho' thou has nae silk, and holland sae sma', Tho' thou has nae silk, and holland sae sma', Thy coat and thy sark are thy ain handiwark, And lady Jean was never sae braw.

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns

536

Scroggam, My Dearie
There was a wife wonn'd in Cockpen, Scroggam; She brew'd gude ale for gentlemen; Sing auld Cowl lay ye down by me, Scroggam, my dearie, ruffum. The gudewife's dochter fell in a fever, Scroggam; The priest o' the parish he fell in anither; Sing auld Cowl lay ye down by me, Scroggam, my dearie, ruffum. They laid the twa i' the bed thegither, Scroggam; That the heat o' the tane might cool the tither; Sing auld Cowl, lay ye down by me, Scroggam, my dearie, ruffum.

My Collier Laddie
"Whare live ye, my bonie lass? And tell me what they ca' ye;" "My name," she says, "is mistress Jean, And I follow the Collier laddie." "My name, she says, &c. "See you not yon hills and dales The sun shines on sae brawlie; They a' are mine, and they shall be thine, Gin ye'll leave your Collier laddie. "They a' are mine, &c. "Ye shall gang in gay attire,

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
Weel buskit up sae gaudy; And ane to wait on every hand, Gin ye'll leave your Collier laddie." "And ane to wait, &c. "Tho' ye had a' the sun shines on, And the earth conceals sae lowly, I wad turn my back on you and it a', And embrace my Collier laddie. "I wad turn my back, &c. "I can win my five pennies in a day, An' spen't at night fu' brawlie: And make my bed in the collier's neuk, And lie down wi' my Collier laddie. "And make my bed, &c. "Love for love is the bargain for me, Tho' the wee cot-house should haud me; and the warld before me to win my bread, And fair fa' my Collier laddie!" "And the warld before me, &c.

537

Sic A Wife As Willie Had
Willie Wastle dwalt on Tweed, The spot they ca'd it Linkumdoddie; Willie was a wabster gude, Could stown a clue wi' ony body: He had a wife was dour and din, O Tinkler Maidgie was her mither; Sic a wife as Willie had,

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
I wad na gie a button for her! 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 gie a button for her! She's bow-hough'd, she's hein-shin'd, Ae limpin leg a hand-breed shorter; She's twisted right, she's twisted left, To balance fair in ilka quarter: She has a lump upon her breast, The twin o' that upon her shouther; Sic a wife as Willie had, I wadna gie a button for her! Auld baudrons by the ingle sits, An' wi' her loof her face a-washin; But Willie's wife is nae sae trig, She dights her grunzie wi' a hushion; Her walie nieves like midden-creels, Her face wad fyle the Logan Water; Sic a wife as Willie had, I wadna gie a button for her!

538

Lady Mary Ann
O lady Mary Ann looks o'er the Castle wa',

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
She saw three bonie boys playing at the ba', The youngest he was the flower amang them a', My bonie laddie's young, but he's growin' yet. O father, O father, an ye think it fit, We'll send him a year to the college yet, We'll sew a green ribbon round about his hat, And that will let them ken he's to marry yet. Lady Mary Ann was a flower in the dew, Sweet was its smell and bonie was its hue, And the longer it blossom'd the sweeter it grew, For the lily in the bud will be bonier yet. Young Charlie Cochran was the sprout of an aik, Bonie and bloomin' and straught was its make, The sun took delight to shine for its sake, And it will be the brag o' the forest yet. The simmer is gane when the leaves they were green, And the days are awa' that we hae seen, But far better days I trust will come again; For my bonie laddie's young, but he's growin' yet.

539

Kellyburn Braes
There lived a carl in Kellyburn Braes, Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme; And he had a wife was the plague of his days, And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime. Ae day as the carl gaed up the lang glen, Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme; He met with the Devil, says, "How do you fen?"

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime. I've got a bad wife, sir, that's a' my complaint, Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme; "For, savin your presence, to her ye're a saint," And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime. It's neither your stot nor your staig I shall crave, Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme; "But gie me your wife, man, for her I must have," And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime. "O welcome most kindly!" the blythe carl said, Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme; "But if ye can match her ye're waur than ye're ca'd," And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime. The Devil has got the auld wife on his back, Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme; And, like a poor pedlar, he's carried his pack, And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime. He's carried her hame to his ain hallan door, Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme; Syne bade her gae in, for a bitch, and a whore, And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime. Then straight he makes fifty, the pick o' his band, Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme: Turn out on her guard in the clap o' a hand, And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime. The carlin gaed thro' them like ony wud bear, Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme; Whae'er she gat hands on cam near her nae mair, And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime. A reekit wee deevil looks over the wa',

540

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme; "O help, maister, help, or she'll ruin us a'!" And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime. The Devil he swore by the edge o' his knife, Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme; He pitied the man that was tied to a wife, And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime. The Devil he swore by the kirk and the bell, Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme; He was not in wedlock, thank Heav'n, but in hell, And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime. Then Satan has travell'd again wi' his pack, Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme; And to her auld husband he's carried her back, And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime. I hae been a Devil the feck o' my life, Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme; "But ne'er was in hell till I met wi' a wife," And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.

541

The Slave's Lament
It was in sweet Senegal that my foes did me enthral, For the lands of Virginia,—ginia, O: Torn from that lovely shore, and must never see it more; And alas! I am weary, weary O: Torn from that lovely shore, and must never see it more; And alas! I am weary, weary O. All on that charming coast is no bitter snow and frost,

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
Like the lands of Virginia,—ginia, O: There streams for ever flow, and there flowers for ever blow, And alas! I am weary, weary O: There streams for ever flow, and there flowers for ever blow, And alas! I am weary, weary O: The burden I must bear, while the cruel scourge I fear, In the lands of Virginia,—ginia, O; And I think on friends most dear, with the bitter, bitter tear, And alas! I am weary, weary O: And I think on friends most dear, with the bitter, bitter tear, And alas! I am weary, weary O:

542

O Can Ye Labour Lea?
Chorus—O can ye labour lea, young man, O can ye labour lea? It fee nor bountith shall us twine Gin ye can labour lea. I fee'd a man at Michaelmas, Wi' airle pennies three; But a' the faut I had to him, He could na labour lea, O can ye labour lea, &c. O clappin's gude in Febarwar, An' kissin's sweet in May; But my delight's the ploughman lad, That weel can labour lea, O can ye labour lea, &c. O kissin is the key o' luve,

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
And clappin' is the lock; An' makin' o's the best thing yet, That e'er a young thing gat. O can ye labour lea, &c.

543

The Deuks Dang O'er My Daddie
The bairns gat out wi' an unco shout, The deuks dang o'er my daddie, O! The fien-ma-care, quo' the feirrie auld wife, He was but a paidlin' body, O! He paidles out, and he paidles in, rn' he paidles late and early, O! This seven lang years I hae lien by his side, An' he is but a fusionless carlie, O. O haud your tongue, my feirrie auld wife, O haud your tongue, now Nansie, O: I've seen the day, and sae hae ye, Ye wad na ben sae donsie, O. I've seen the day ye butter'd my brose, And cuddl'd me late and early, O; But downa-do's come o'er me now, And oh, I find it sairly, O!

The Deil's Awa Wi' The Exciseman
The deil cam fiddlin' thro' the town, And danc'd awa wi' th' Exciseman, And ilka wife cries, "Auld Mahoun,

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
I wish you luck o' the prize, man." Chorus—The deil's awa, the deil's awa, The deil's awa wi' the Exciseman, He's danc'd awa, he's danc'd awa, He's danc'd awa wi' the Exciseman. We'll mak our maut, and we'll brew our drink, We'll laugh, sing, and rejoice, man, And mony braw thanks to the meikle black deil, That danc'd awa wi' th' Exciseman. The deil's awa, &c. There's threesome reels, there's foursome reels, There's hornpipes and strathspeys, man, But the ae best dance ere came to the land Was—the deil's awa wi' the Exciseman. The deil's awa, &c.

544

The Country Lass
In simmer, when the hay was mawn, And corn wav'd green in ilka field, While claver blooms white o'er the lea And roses blaw in ilka beild! Blythe Bessie in the milking shiel, Says—"I'll be wed, come o't what will": Out spake a dame in wrinkled eild; "O' gude advisement comes nae ill. "It's ye hae wooers mony ane, And lassie, ye're but young ye ken; Then wait a wee, and cannie wale

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
A routhie butt, a routhie ben; There's Johnie o' the Buskie-glen, Fu' is his barn, fu' is his byre; Take this frae me, my bonie hen, It's plenty beets the luver's fire." "For Johnie o' the Buskie-glen, I dinna care a single flie; He lo'es sae weel his craps and kye, He has nae love to spare for me; But blythe's the blink o' Robie's e'e, And weel I wat he lo'es me dear: Ae blink o' him I wad na gie For Buskie-glen and a' his gear." "O thoughtless lassie, life's a faught; The canniest gate, the strife is sair; But aye fu'—han't is fechtin' best, A hungry care's an unco care: But some will spend and some will spare, An' wilfu' folk maun hae their will; Syne as ye brew, my maiden fair, Keep mind that ye maun drink the yill." "O gear will buy me rigs o' land, And gear will buy me sheep and kye; But the tender heart o' leesome love, The gowd and siller canna buy; We may be poor—Robie and I— Light is the burden love lays on; Content and love brings peace and joy— What mair hae Queens upon a throne?"

545

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns

546

Bessy And Her Spinnin' Wheel
O Leeze me on my spinnin' wheel, And leeze me on my rock and reel; Frae tap to tae that cleeds me bien, And haps me biel and warm at e'en; I'll set me down and sing and spin, While laigh descends the simmer sun, Blest wi' content, and milk and meal, O leeze me on my spinnin' wheel. On ilka hand the burnies trot, And meet below my theekit cot; The scented birk and hawthorn white, Across the pool their arms unite, Alike to screen the birdie's nest, And little fishes' caller rest; The sun blinks kindly in the beil', Where blythe I turn my spinnin' wheel. On lofty aiks the cushats wail, And Echo cons the doolfu' tale; The lintwhites in the hazel braes, Delighted, rival ither's lays; The craik amang the claver hay, The pairtrick whirring o'er the ley, The swallow jinkin' round my shiel, Amuse me at my spinnin' wheel. Wi' sma' to sell, and less to buy, Aboon distress, below envy, O wha wad leave this humble state,

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
For a' the pride of a' the great? Amid their flairing, idle toys, Amid their cumbrous, dinsome joys, Can they the peace and pleasure feel Of Bessy at her spinnin' wheel?

547

Love For Love
Ithers seek they ken na what, Features, carriage, and a' that; Gie me love in her I court, Love to love maks a' the sport. Let love sparkle in her e'e; Let her lo'e nae man but me; That's the tocher-gude I prize, There the luver's treasure lies.

Saw Ye Bonie Lesley
O saw ye bonie Lesley, As she gaed o'er the Border? She's gane, like Alexander, To spread her conquests farther. To see her is to love her, And love but her for ever; For Nature made her what she is, And never made anither! Thou art a queen, fair Lesley, Thy subjects, we before thee;

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
Thou art divine, fair Lesley, The hearts o' men adore thee. The deil he could na scaith thee, Or aught that wad belang thee; He'd look into thy bonie face, And say—"I canna wrang thee!" The Powers aboon will tent thee, Misfortune sha'na steer thee; Thou'rt like themselves sae lovely, That ill they'll ne'er let near thee. Return again, fair Lesley, Return to Caledonie! That we may brag we hae a lass There's nane again sae bonie.

548

Fragment Of Song
No cold approach, no altered mien, Just what would make suspicion start; No pause the dire extremes between, He made me blest—and broke my heart.

I'll Meet Thee On The Lea Rig
When o'er the hill the eastern star Tells bughtin time is near, my jo, And owsen frae the furrow'd field Return sae dowf and weary O; Down by the burn, where birken buds

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
Wi' dew are hangin clear, my jo, I'll meet thee on the lea-rig, My ain kind Dearie O. At midnight hour, in mirkest glen, I'd rove, and ne'er be eerie, O, If thro' that glen I gaed to thee, My ain kind Dearie O; Altho' the night were ne'er sae wild, And I were ne'er sae weary O, I'll meet thee on the lea-rig, My ain kind Dearie O. The hunter lo'es the morning sun; To rouse the mountain deer, my jo; At noon the fisher seeks the glen Adown the burn to steer, my jo: Gie me the hour o' gloamin' grey, It maks my heart sae cheery O, To meet thee on the lea-rig, My ain kind Dearie O.

549

My Wife's A Winsome Wee Thing
Air—"My Wife's a Wanton Wee Thing." Chorus.—She is a winsome wee thing, She is a handsome wee thing, She is a lo'esome wee thing, This dear wee wife o' mine. I never saw a fairer, I never lo'ed a dearer,

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
And neist my heart I'll wear her, For fear my jewel tine, She is a winsome, &c. The warld's wrack we share o't; The warstle and the care o't; Wi' her I'll blythely bear it, And think my lot divine. She is a winsome, &c.

550

Highland Mary
Tune—"Katherine Ogie." Ye banks, and braes, and streams around The castle o' Montgomery! Green be your woods, and fair your flowers, Your waters never drumlie: There Simmer first unfauld her robes, And there the langest tarry; For there I took the last Farewell O' my sweet Highland Mary. How sweetly bloom'd the gay, green birk, How rich the hawthorn's blossom, As underneath their fragrant shade, I clasp'd her to my bosom! The golden Hours on angel wings, Flew o'er me and my Dearie; For dear to me, as light and life, Was my sweet Highland Mary. Wi' mony a vow, and lock'd embrace,

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
Our parting was fu' tender; And, pledging aft to meet again, We tore oursels asunder; But oh! fell Death's untimely frost, That nipt my Flower sae early! Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay That wraps my Highland Mary! O pale, pale now, those rosy lips, I aft hae kiss'd sae fondly! And clos'd for aye, the sparkling glance That dwalt on me sae kindly! And mouldering now in silent dust, That heart that lo'ed me dearly! But still within my bosom's core Shall live my Highland Mary.

551

Auld Rob Morris
There's Auld Rob Morris that wons in yon glen, He's the King o' gude fellows, and wale o' auld men; He has gowd in his coffers, he has owsen and kine, And ae bonie lass, his dautie and mine. She's fresh as the morning, the fairest in May; She's sweet as the ev'ning amang the new hay; As blythe and as artless as the lambs on the lea, And dear to my heart as the light to my e'e. But oh! she's an Heiress, auld Robin's a laird, And my daddie has nought but a cot-house and yard; A wooer like me maunna hope to come speed,

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
The wounds I must hide that will soon be my dead. The day comes to me, but delight brings me nane; The night comes to me, but my rest it is gane; I wander my lane like a night-troubled ghaist, And I sigh as my heart it wad burst in my breast. O had she but been of a lower degree, I then might hae hop'd she wad smil'd upon me! O how past descriving had then been my bliss, As now my distraction nae words can express.

552

The Rights Of Woman
An Occasional Address. Spoken by Miss Fontenelle on her benefit night, November 26, 1792. While Europe's eye is fix'd on mighty things, The fate of Empires and the fall of Kings; While quacks of State must each produce his plan, And even children lisp the Rights of Man; Amid this mighty fuss just let me mention, The Rights of Woman merit some attention. First, in the Sexes' intermix'd connection, One sacred Right of Woman is, protection.— The tender flower that lifts its head, elate, Helpless, must fall before the blasts of Fate, Sunk on the earth, defac'd its lovely form, Unless your shelter ward th' impending storm. Our second Right—but needless here is caution, To keep that right inviolate's the fashion; Each man of sense has it so full before him,

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
He'd die before he'd wrong it—'tis decorum.— There was, indeed, in far less polish'd days, A time, when rough rude man had naughty ways, Would swagger, swear, get drunk, kick up a riot, Nay even thus invade a Lady's quiet. Now, thank our stars! those Gothic times are fled; Now, well-bred men—and you are all well-bred— Most justly think (and we are much the gainers) Such conduct neither spirit, wit, nor manners. For Right the third, our last, our best, our dearest, That right to fluttering female hearts the nearest; Which even the Rights of Kings, in low prostration, Most humbly own—'tis dear, dear admiration! In that blest sphere alone we live and move; There taste that life of life—immortal love. Smiles, glances, sighs, tears, fits, flirtations, airs; 'Gainst such an host what flinty savage dares, When awful Beauty joins with all her charms— Who is so rash as rise in rebel arms? But truce with kings, and truce with constitutions, With bloody armaments and revolutions; Let Majesty your first attention summon, Ah! ca ira! The Majesty Of Woman!

553

Epigram On Seeing Miss Fontenelle In A Favourite Character
Sweet naivete of feature, Simple, wild, enchanting elf, Not to thee, but thanks to Nature,

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
Thou art acting but thyself. Wert thou awkward, stiff, affected, Spurning Nature, torturing art; Loves and Graces all rejected, Then indeed thou'd'st act a part.

554

Extempore On Some Commemorations Of Thomson
Dost thou not rise, indignant shade, And smile wi' spurning scorn, When they wha wad hae starved thy life, Thy senseless turf adorn? Helpless, alane, thou clamb the brae, Wi' meikle honest toil, And claught th' unfading garland there— Thy sair-worn, rightful spoil. And wear it thou! and call aloud This axiom undoubted— Would thou hae Nobles' patronage? First learn to live without it! To whom hae much, more shall be given, Is every Great man's faith; But he, the helpless, needful wretch, Shall lose the mite he hath.

Duncan Gray
Duncan Gray cam' here to woo, Ha, ha, the wooing o't,

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
On blythe Yule-night when we were fou, Ha, ha, the wooing o't, Maggie coost her head fu' heigh, Look'd asklent and unco skeigh, Gart poor Duncan stand abeigh; Ha, ha, the wooing o't. Duncan fleech'd and Duncan pray'd; Ha, ha, the wooing o't, Meg was deaf as Ailsa Craig, Ha, ha, the wooing o't: Duncan sigh'd baith out and in, Grat his e'en baith blear't an' blin', Spak o' lowpin o'er a linn; Ha, ha, the wooing o't. Time and Chance are but a tide, Ha, ha, the wooing o't, Slighted love is sair to bide, Ha, ha, the wooing o't: Shall I like a fool, quoth he, For a haughty hizzie die? She may gae to—France for me! Ha, ha, the wooing o't. How it comes let doctors tell, Ha, ha, the wooing o't; Meg grew sick, as he grew hale, Ha, ha, the wooing o't. Something in her bosom wrings, For relief a sigh she brings: And oh! her een they spak sic things! Ha, ha, the wooing o't.

555

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
Duncan was a lad o' grace, Ha, ha, the wooing o't: Maggie's was a piteous case, Ha, ha, the wooing o't: Duncan could na be her death, Swelling Pity smoor'd his wrath; Now they're crouse and canty baith, Ha, ha, the wooing o't.

556

Here's A Health To Them That's Awa
Here's a health to them that's awa, Here's a health to them that's awa; And wha winna wish gude luck to our cause, May never gude luck be their fa'! It's gude to be merry and wise, It's gude to be honest and true; It's gude to support Caledonia's cause, And bide by the buff and the blue. Here's a health to them that's awa, Here's a health to them that's awa, Here's a health to Charlie^1 the chief o' the clan, Altho' that his band be but sma'! May Liberty meet wi' success! May Prudence protect her frae evil! May tyrants and tyranny tine i' the mist, And wander their way to the devil! Here's a health to them that's awa, Here's a health to them that's awa;

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
Here's a health to Tammie,^2 the Norlan' laddie, That lives at the lug o' the law! Here's freedom to them that wad read, Here's freedom to them that wad write, [Footnote 1: Charles James Fox.] [Footnote 2: Hon. Thos. Erskine, afterwards Lord Erskine.] There's nane ever fear'd that the truth should be heard, But they whom the truth would indite. Here's a Health to them that's awa, An' here's to them that's awa! Here's to Maitland and Wycombe, let wha doesna like 'em Be built in a hole in the wa'; Here's timmer that's red at the heart Here's fruit that is sound at the core; And may he be that wad turn the buff and blue coat Be turn'd to the back o' the door. Here's a health to them that's awa, Here's a health to them that's awa; Here's chieftain M'Leod, a chieftain worth gowd, Tho' bred amang mountains o' snaw; Here's friends on baith sides o' the firth, And friends on baith sides o' the Tweed; And wha wad betray old Albion's right, May they never eat of her bread!

557

A Tippling Ballad
On the Duke of Brunswick's Breaking up his Camp, and the defeat of the Austrians, by Dumourier, November 1792.
When Princes and Prelates,

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
And hot-headed zealots, A'Europe had set in a low, a low, The poor man lies down, Nor envies a crown, And comforts himself as he dow, as he dow, And comforts himself as he dow. The black-headed eagle, As keen as a beagle, He hunted o'er height and o'er howe, In the braes o' Gemappe, He fell in a trap, E'en let him come out as he dow, dow, dow, E'en let him come out as he dow. But truce with commotions, And new-fangled notions, A bumper, I trust you'll allow; Here's George our good king, And Charlotte his queen, And lang may they ring as they dow, dow, dow, And lang may they ring as they dow.

558

1793

Poortith Cauld And Restless Love
Tune—"Cauld Kail in Aberdeen." O poortith cauld, and restless love, Ye wrack my peace between ye;

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
Yet poortith a' I could forgive, An 'twere na for my Jeanie. Chorus—O why should Fate sic pleasure have, Life's dearest bands untwining? Or why sae sweet a flower as love Depend on Fortune's shining? The warld's wealth, when I think on, It's pride and a' the lave o't; O fie on silly coward man, That he should be the slave o't! O why, &c. Her e'en, sae bonie blue, betray How she repays my passion; But prudence is her o'erword aye, She talks o' rank and fashion. O why, &c. O wha can prudence think upon, And sic a lassie by him? O wha can prudence think upon, And sae in love as I am? O why, &c. How blest the simple cotter's fate! He woos his artless dearie; The silly bogles, wealth and state, Can never make him eerie, O why, &c.

559

They rove amang the blooming heather. But there is ane. peace. O that's the chiefest warld's treasure. And tho' I hae nae meikle tocher. braw lads on Yarrow-braes. And I'll be his. The bonie lad o' Galla Water. Braw Lads O' Galla Water Braw. sweet thrush. Yet rich in kindest.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. But Yarrow braes. Aboon them a' I loe him better. Let great folk hear and see. Altho' his daddie was nae laird. Sing on. Sonnet Written On The Author's Birthday. upon the leafless bough. nor Ettrick shaws Can match the lads o' Galla Water. and he'll be mine. That coft contentment. a secret ane. The bands and bliss o' mutual love. On hearing a Thrush sing in his Morning Walk. Bear this in mind. We'll tent our flocks by Galla Water.—be deaf and blind. truest love. And mean thy fortunes be. or pleasure. it ne'er was wealth. by Robert Burns 560 On Politics In Politics if thou would'st mix. It ne'er was wealth. .

bids them part.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Come to my bosom. Sits meek Content with light. The Simmer to Nature. Ye hurricanes rest in the cave o'your slumbers. And waft my dear laddie ance mair to my arms. O how your wild horrors a lover alarms! Awaken ye breezes. haud awa hame. that mite with thee I'll share. 'mid his surly reign. So in lone Poverty's dominion drear. thy boon was purer joys— What wealth could never give nor take away! Yet come. by Robert Burns Sing on. The mite high heav'n bestow'd. clears his furrowed brow. I thank thee. my ae only dearie. At thy blythe carol. 561 Wandering Willie—First Version Here awa. my Willie to me. and welcome my Willie. wandering Willie. there awa. Loud blew the cauld winter winds at our parting. sweet bird. unanxious heart. See aged Winter. I listen to thy strain. And tell me thou bring'st me my Willie the same. . row gently ye billows. thou child of poverty and care. Author of this opening day! Thou whose bright sun now gilds yon orient skies! Riches denied. Nor asks if they bring ought to hope or fear. But if he's forgotten his faithfullest Nannie. It was na the blast brought the tear in my e'e: Now welcome the Simmer. Now tired with wandering. Welcomes the rapid moments.

wandering Willie. thou wide roaring main! May I never see it. there awa. ye breezes. haud awa hame. and minds na his Nannie. my ain only dearie. But. believe that my Willie's my ain! Lord Gregory O mirk. by Robert Burns O still flow between us. row gently. if he's faithless. Welcome now the Simmer. dying. my Willie. And loud the tempest's roar. May I never see it. A waefu' wanderer seeks thy tower. Come to my bosom. Lord Gregory. The Simmer to Nature. may I never trow it. But oh. and welcome. But. Flow still between us. ope thy door. Winter winds blew loud and cauld at our parting.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Tell me thou bring'st me my Willie the same. And waft my dear laddie ance mair to my arms. mirk is this midnight hour. dying. my Willie to me! Rest. thou wide roaring main. may I never trow it. believe that my Willie's my ain! 562 Wandering Willie—Revised Version Here awa. there awa. Here awa. How your dread howling a lover alarms! Wauken. . ye wild storms. Fears for my Willie brought tears in my e'e. ye billows. in the cave of your slumbers.

But spare and pardon my fause Love. oh. Lord Gregory. Oh Oh. Where first I own'd that virgin love I lang. His wrangs to Heaven and me. open the door. And flinty is thy breast: Thou bolt of Heaven that flashest by. Hard is thy heart. Tho' thou hast been false. I'll ever prove true. oh: .Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Oh. open the door to me. If love it may na be. oh. lang had denied. Oh. itsel' sae true. At least some pity on me shaw. 563 Open The Door To Me. And a' for loving thee. open the door to me. wilt thou bring me rest! Ye mustering thunders from above. It ne'er mistrusted thine. Lord Gregory. Cauld is the blast upon my pale cheek. How aften didst thou pledge and vow Thou wad for aye be mine! And my fond heart. mind'st thou not the grove By bonie Irwine side. But caulder thy love for me. O. by Robert Burns An exile frae her father's ha'. Your willing victim see. some pity to shew.

To equal young Jessie you seek it in vain. The wan Moon is setting beyond the white wave. Enthron'd in her een he delivers his law: And still to her charms she alone is a stranger. 564 Lovely Young Jessie True hearted was he. But in the fair presence o' lovely young Jessie. She sees the pale corse on the plain. a wizard ensnaring. the sad swain o' the Yarrow. beauty. oh: "My true love!" she cried. And Time is setting with me. by Robert Burns The frost that freezes the life at my heart.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Are lovers as faithful. nor thee. oh. Is nought to my pains frae thee. O. at evening close. and maidens as fair: To equal young Jessie seek Scotland all over. oh. and sank down by his side. and elegance. And maidenly modesty fixes the chain. she has open'd it wide. fetter her lover. And fair are the maids on the banks of the Ayr. Never to rise again. unheeded the rose. She has open'd the door. farewell! for mair I'll ne'er trouble them. And sweet is the lily. fresh is the rose in the gay. dewy morning. Her modest demeanour's the jewel of a'. Grace. oh: False friends. But by the sweet side o' the Nith's winding river. false love. . Love sits in her smile. Unseen is the lily. oh.

And that's what Meg o' the Mill has gotten. and taen the churl. And wae on the love that is fixed on a mailen! A tocher's nae word in a true lover's parle. and a hue like a lady. it is sae prevailin'. . the Miller was ruddy. And broken the heart o' the barley Miller. The laird was a widdifu'. O ken ye what Meg o' the Mill lo'es dearly.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. An' ken ye what Meg o' the Mill has gotten? A braw new naig wi' the tail o' a rottan. and a fig for the warl'! Meg O' The Mill—Another Version O ken ye what Meg o' the Mill has gotten. The lair did address her wi' matter mair moving. The Miller he hecht her a heart leal and loving. The Miller was strappin. But gie me my love. An' ken ye what Meg o' the Mill has gotten? She gotten a coof wi' a claut o' siller. bleerit knurl. by Robert Burns 565 Meg O' The Mill O ken ye what Meg o' the Mill has gotten. and a bonie side-saddle. A whip by her side. A heart like a lord. A fine pacing-horse wi' a clear chained bridle. O wae on the siller. She's left the gude fellow. An' ken ye what Meg o' the Mill lo'es dearly? A dram o' gude strunt in the morning early.

Where lang I'd been a lodger. mill." When wild war's deadly blast was blawn. I thought upon the witching smile That caught my youthful fancy. O ken ye how Meg o' the Mill was bedded. And that's how Meg o' the Mill was married. Wi' mony a sweet babe fatherless. And for fair Scotia hame again.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. he fell awald beside it. And mony a widow mourning. . the clark he was carried. by Robert Burns And that's what Meg o' the Mill lo'es dearly. My humble knapsack a' my wealth. An' ken ye how Meg o' the Mill was married? The priest he was oxter'd. light heart was in my breast. I cheery on did wander: I thought upon the banks o' Coil. And that's how Meg o' the Mill was bedded. I left the lines and tented field. A poor and honest sodger. O ken ye how Meg o' the Mill was married. My hand unstain'd wi' plunder. And gentle peace returning. I thought upon my Nancy. An' ken ye how Meg o' the Mill was bedded? The groom gat sae fou'. O. A leal. 566 The Soldier's Return Air—"The Mill.

567 . She sank within my arms. Forget him shall I never: Our humble cot." She gaz'd—she redden'd like a rose— Syne pale like only lily. That's dearest to thy bosom: My purse is light." Sae wistfully she gaz'd on me. And fain would be thy lodger. quoth I. and cried. Where early life I sported.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. I pass'd the mill and trysting thorn. O! happy. "A sodger ance I lo'ed. happy may he be. Sweet as yon hawthorn's blossom. Down by her mother's dwelling! And turn'd me round to hide the flood That in my een was swelling. I've serv'd my king and country lang— Take pity on a sodger. I've far to gang. That gallant badge—the dear cockade. Wi' alter'd voice. and hamely fare. Quo' she. Ye freely shall partake it. Ye're welcome for the sake o't. "Art thou my ain dear Willie?" "By him who made yon sun and sky! By whom true love's regarded. And lovelier was than ever. Where Nancy aft I courted: Wha spied I but my ain dear maid. "Sweet lass. by Robert Burns At length I reach'd the bonie glen.

and I'm come hame. A. "The wars are o'er. Thou'rt welcome to it dearly!" For gold the merchant ploughs the main. And come. Nor count him as a stranger. Remember he's his country's stay. And find thee still true-hearted. 1793 The True Loyal Natives Ye true "Loyal Natives" attend to my song In uproar and riot rejoice the night long. we're rich in love. But where is your shield from the darts of Contempt! . and thus may still True lovers be rewarded. Tho' poor in gear. But glory is the sodger's prize. The sodgerpppp's wealth is honor: The brave poor sodger ne'er despise. my faithfu' sodger lad. And mair we'se ne'er be parted. The farmer ploughs the manor.D. 568 Versicles." Quo' she. "My grandsire left me gowd. A mailen plenish'd fairly. In day and hour of danger. From Envy and Hatred your corps is exempt. by Robert Burns I am the man.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns.

Here's to the memory of those on the twelfth that we lost!— That we lost. by Heav'n. for shame!—proceed no further. boy's. I'll give you a Toast. that I may live. For their fame it will last while the world goes round. Or e'er dispute thy pleasure? Else why. to account who dares thee call. God won't accept your thanks for Murther! Lines On The Commemoration Of Rodney's Victory Instead of a Song. To see the miscreants feel the pains they give. within so thick a wall. that we found. indulgent Heaven. did I say?—nay. Deal Freedom's sacred treasures free as air.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. by Robert Burns 569 On Commissary Goldie's Brains Lord. Till Slave and Despot be but things that were. The next in succession I'll give you's the King! . Enclose so poor a treasure? Lines Inscribed In A Lady's Pocket Almanac Grant me. Thanksgiving For A National Victory Ye hypocrites! are these your pranks? To murder men and give God thanks! Desist.

But Folly has raptures to give.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. pray. As built on the base of our great Revolution! And longer with Politics not to be cramm'd. but Spiritual Excisemen! Extempore Reply To An Invitation The King's most humble servant. time-settled pleasures. by Robert Burns Whoe'er would betray him. But I'll be wi' you by an' by. I grant thee thy calm-blooded. I Can scarcely spare a minute. our free Constitution. Give me with young Folly to live. and Tyranny damn'd! And who would to Liberty e'er prove disloyal. old Wisdom! may boast of thy treasures. what are Priests? (those seeming godly wise-men. Kirk and State Excisemen Ye men of wit and wealth. Be Anarchy curs'd. on high may he swing! And here's the grand fabric. . May his son be a hangman—and he his first trial! 570 The Raptures Of Folly Thou greybeard.) What are they. why all this sneering 'Gainst poor Excisemen? Give the cause a hearing: What are your Landlord's rent-rolls? Taxing ledgers! What Premiers? What ev'n Monarchs? Mighty Gaugers! Nay.

571 Grace After Meat Lord. from thy bounteous store. For temporal gifts we little merit. and thee adore. And send us. O Lord. And Jock bring in the spirit! Amen. . A tup or wether head! Amen. Dumourier. we thank. by Robert Burns Or else the Deil's be in it. Dumourier? I will fight France with you.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. when hunger pinches sore. At present we will ask no more— Let William Hislop give the spirit. You're welcome to Despots. and Bournonville too? Why did they not come along with you. Dumourier: How does Dampiere do? Ay. Do thou stand us in stead. since we have feasted thus. Impromptu On General Dumourier's Desertion From The French Republican Army You're welcome to Despots. Which we so little merit. Grace Before And After Meat O Lord. Dumourier. Let Meg now take away the flesh.

by Robert Burns I will fight France with you. the bursting sigh. Till Freedom's spark be out. Love's veriest wretch. Dumourier. And left Maria's dwelling. While I in secret languish. Th' unweeting groan. What throes. Maria. no doubt. Dumourier. Then let us fight about. Dumourier. fain. Dumourier. Yet dare not speak my anguish. I know my doom must be despair. Betray the guilty lover. Then let us fight about. But oh. Were in my bosom swelling: Condemn'd to see my rival's reign. For Pity's sake forgive me! The music of thy tongue I heard. my crime would cover. Then let us fight about. I Fain. I will take my chance with you. 572 The Last Time I Came O'er The Moor The last time I came o'er the moor. Then we'll be damn'd. what tortures passing cure. By my soul. despairing. Thou wilt nor canst relieve me.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. I'll dance with you. hear my prayer. Dumourier. . To feel a fire in every vein. I will fight France with you.

Again the merry month of May Has made our hills and valleys gay. That day I was my Willie's bride. 573 Logan Braes Tune—"Logan Water. While my dear lad maun face his faes.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Like Logan to the simmer sun: But now thy flowery banks appear Like drumlie Winter. yet nothing fear'd. The birds rejoice in leafy bowers. sweetly didst thou glide. Blythe Morning lifts his rosy eye. dark and drear." O Logan. Within yon milk-white hawthorn bush. Far. I saw thine eyes. 'Mid circling horrors yields at last To overwhelming ruin. far frae me and Logan braes. Till fear no more had sav'd me: The unwary sailor thus. delightless a' surveys. by Robert Burns Nor wist while it enslav'd me. The wheeling torrent viewing. Amang her nestlings sits the thrush: . While Willie's far frae Logan braes. And Evening's tears are tears o' joy: My soul. The bees hum round the breathing flowers. aghast. And years sin syne hae o'er us run.

And Willie hame to Logan braes! 574 Blythe Hae I been On Yon Hill Tune—"The Quaker's Wife. nae mate to cheer. As the lambs before me. by Robert Burns Her faithfu' mate will share her toil. heavy is the task. Sae may it on your heads return! How can your flinty hearts enjoy The widow's tear. Pass widow'd nights and joyless days. Trembling. . Hopeless love declaring. Care and anguish seize me. Or wi' his song her cares beguile. Lesley is sae fair and coy. Careless ilka thought and free." Blythe hae I been on yon hill.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. While Willie's far frae Logan braes. That brethren rouse to deadly hate! As ye make mony a fond heart mourn. O wae be to you. But I wi' my sweet nurslings here. I dow nocht but glow'r. Mirth or sang can please me. Men o' State. As the breeze flew o'er me. Heavy. Now nae langer sport and play. the orphan's cry? But soon may peace bring happy days. Nae mate to help.

I'd feast on beauty a' the night. When youthfu' May its bloom renew'd. And I. and Winter rude! But I wad sing on wanton wing. Seal'd on her silk-saft faulds to rest. Into her bonie breast to fa'! O there. And I myself a drap o' dew. When wearied on my little wing! How I wad mourn when it was torn By Autumn wild. by Robert Burns Sighing." O were my love yon Lilac fair. dumb despairing! If she winna ease the thraws In my bosom swelling. . beyond expression blest. a bird to shelter there. Soon maun be my dwelling. That grows upon the castle wa'. O gin my love were yon red rose. Till fley'd awa by Phoebus' light! Bonie Jean—A Ballad To its ain tune. Wi' purple blossoms to the Spring. 575 O Were My Love Yon Lilac Fair Air—"Hughie Graham.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Underneath the grass-green sod.

The flower and pride of a' the glen. and she was fair. sheep. lang ere witless Jeanie wist. But did na Jeanie's heart loup light. The moon-beam dwells at dewy e'en. Young Robie was the brawest lad.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Or what wad make her weel again. her peace was stown! As in the bosom of the stream. And aye she sang sae merrilie. At kirk or market to be seen. And love will break the soundest rest. He gaed wi' Jeanie to the tryste. And wanton naigies nine or ten. And aye she wrought her mammie's wark. But hawks will rob the tender joys That bless the little lintwhite's nest. and kye. pure. So trembling. And he had owsen. And didna joy blink in her e'e. The fairest maid was bonie Jean. Yet wist na what her ail might be. Her heart was tint. And aye she sighs wi' care and pain. When a' our fairest maids were met. The blythest bird upon the bush Had ne'er a lighter heart than she. And now she works her mammie's wark. was tender love Within the breast of bonie Jean. by Robert Burns There was a lass. And frost will blight the fairest flowers. And. He danc'd wi' Jeanie on the down. 576 .

Blest be M'Murdo to his latest day! No envious cloud o'ercast his evening ray." Now what could artless Jeanie do? She had nae will to say him na: At length she blush'd a sweet consent. No wrinkle. And learn to tent the farms wi' me? "At barn or byre thou shalt na drudge. by Robert Burns As Robie tauld a tale o' love Ae e'ening on the lily lea? The sun was sinking in the west. Or naething else to trouble thee. And love was aye between them twa. Nor ever daughter give the mother pain! . O canst thou think to fancy me. The birds sang sweet in ilka grove. furrow'd by the hand of care. ESQ. And tent the waving corn wi' me. His cheek to hers he fondly laid. 577 Lines On John M'Murdo. But stray amang the heather-bells. And whisper'd thus his tale o' love: "O Jeanie fair.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. I lo'e thee dear. Nor ever sorrow add one silver hair! O may no son the father's honour stain. Or wilt thou leave thy mammie's cot.

by Robert Burns 578 Epitaph On A Lap-Dog Named Echo In wood and wild. half your din of tuneless sound With Echo silent lies. Now. . For thou hast none to give. dirty. O Galloway. Galloway. Scream your discordant joys. Galloway.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. and find Some narrow. Now. Bright ran thy line. Not one of them a knave. And ended in a mire. Spare me thy vengeance. Thro' many a far-fam'd sire! So ran the far-famed Roman way. dungeon cave. Ye jarring. The Stewarts 'll were brave. ye warbling throng. Epigrams Against The Earl Of Galloway What dost thou in that mansion fair? Flit. The picture of thy mind. Galloway! In quiet let me live: I ask no kindness at thy hand. half extinct your powers of song. Sweet Echo is no more. No Stewart art thou. screeching things around. the Stewarts were but fools. Your heavy loss deplore. Besides.

with little wing. In each bird's careless song." Song—Phillis The Fair Tune—"Robin Adair." quoth Satan. Phillis the fair. by Robert Burns 579 Epigram On The Laird Of Laggan When Morine. Fann'd the pure air. Such thy morn! did I cry.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Phillis the fair. Forth I did fare: Gay the sun's golden eye Peep'd o'er the mountains high. but not quite so clever." While larks. Such thy bloom! did I say. I grant thou'rt as wicked. "Thy fool's head. deceas'd. Down in a shady walk. 'Twas nothing would serve him but Satan's own crown. Rosebuds bent the dewy spray. Chance led me there! Sweet to the op'ning day. . Tasting the breathing Spring. While yon wild-flowers among. Doves cooing were. Glad I did share. "that crown shall wear never. to the Devil went down.

Such make his destiny. While Phoebus sank beyond Benledi." Had I a cave on some wild distant shore. by Robert Burns I mark'd the cruel hawk Caught in a snare: So kind may fortune be. There seek my lost repose. can'st thou declare All thy fond. Phillis the fair. Then in thy bosom try What peace is there! Song—By Allan Stream By Allan stream I chanc'd to rove. The yellow corn was waving ready: . Ne'er to wake more! Falsest of womankind. Where the winds howl to the wave's dashing roar: There would I weep my woes. He who would injure thee. 580 Song—Had I A Cave Tune—"Robin Adair.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. The winds are whispering thro' the grove. plighted vows fleeting as air! To thy new lover hie. Till grief my eyes should close. Laugh o'er thy perjury.

—O Whistle. Nae nightly bogle make it eerie. Tho' father an' mother an' a' should gae mad. Nor ever sorrow stain the hour. happy be the woodbine bower. . She. Or chain the soul in speechless pleasure? Or thro' each nerve the rapture dart. dearly do I love thee. An' thought on youthfu' pleasures mony. by Robert Burns I listen'd to a lover's sang." The haunt o' Spring's the primrose-brae. our bosom's treasure? 581 Whistle. The place and time I met my Dearie! Her head upon my throbbing breast.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. 'I'm thine for ever!' While mony a kiss the seal imprest— The sacred vow we ne'er should sever. And I'll Come To You. But warily tent when ye come to court me. my lad. an' I'll come to ye. And come nae unless the back-yett be a-jee. Like meeting her. But can they melt the glowing heart. Is Autumn in her weeds o' yellow. O whistle. How cheery thro' her short'ning day. an' I'll come to ye. O whistle. my lad. My Lad Chorus. sinking. said. The Summer joys the flocks to follow. my lad. Annie! "O. an' I'll come to ye. And aye the wild-wood echoes rang— "O.

At kirk. Has met wi' the queen o' the fair. . The daisy amus'd my fond fancy. whene'er ye meet me. Whaever has met wi' my Phillis. Aye vow and protest that ye care na for me. Yet look as ye were na lookin' to me. Gang by me as tho' that ye car'd na a flie. And whiles ye may lightly my beauty a-wee. But steal me a blink o' your bonie black e'e. For fear that she wile your fancy frae me. And come as ye were na comin' to me. &c.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Chorus. They never wi' her can compare. or at market.—Awa' wi' your belles and your beauties. &c. O whistle an' I'll come. And come as ye were na comin' to me. by Robert Burns Syne up the back-stile. O whistle an' I'll come. O whistle an' I'll come. tho' jokin' ye be. Yet look as ye were na lookin' to me. Adown winding Nith I did wander. Of Phillis to muse and to sing. 582 Phillis The Queen O' The Fair Tune—"The Muckin o' Geordie's Byre." Adown winding Nith I did wander. and let naebody see. To mark the sweet flowers as they spring. For fear that she wile your fancy frae me. &c. But court na anither.

That wakes thro' the green-spreading grove When Phoebus peeps over the mountains. &c. &c. Thou emblem. They ne'er wi' my Phillis can vie: Her breath is the breath of the woodbine. Its dew-drop o' diamond her eye. 583 Come. &c. The rose-bud's the blush o' my charmer. And pledge we ne'er shall sunder. Her voice is the song o' the morning. by Robert Burns So artless. . o' my Phillis— For she is Simplicity's child. Awa' wi' your belles.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Yon knot of gay flowers in the arbour. Her sweet balmy lip when 'tis prest: How fair and how pure is the lily! But fairer and purer her breast. But beauty. so simple. so wild. &c. &c. Awa' wi' your belles. Awa' wi' your belles. Let Me Take Thee To My Breast Come. On music. how frail and how fleeting! The bloom of a fine summer's day. let me take thee to my breast. and love. and pleasure. While worth in the mind o' my Phillis. Awa' wi' your belles. Awa' wi' your belles. said I. Will flourish without a decay.

The merry birds are lovers a'. I'll seek nae main o' Heav'n to share. Dainty Davie. I clasp my countless treasure. A wandering wi' my Davie. The scented breezes round us blaw. Dainty Davie. The crystal waters round us fa'. wi' a' her charms.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. And now comes in the happy hours. by Robert Burns And I shall spurn as vilest dust The world's wealth and grandeur: And do I hear my Jeanie own That equal transports move her? I ask for dearest life alone. Thus. 584 Dainty Davie Now rosy May comes in wi' flowers. green-spreading bowers. To wander wi' my Davie.—Meet me on the warlock knowe. Chorus. Tha sic a moment's pleasure: And by thy e'en sae bonie blue. That I may live to love her. There I'll spend the day wi' you. . I swear I'm thine for ever! And on thy lips I seal my vow. And break it shall I never. My ain dear Dainty Davie. in my arms. To deck her gay.

The curtain draws o' Nature's rest. or Free-man fa'. &c. Free-man stand. &c. Scots. . wha hae wi' Wallace bled. expiring in the west. See approach proud Edward's power— Chains and Slaverie! Wha will be a traitor knave? Wha can fill a coward's grave? Wha sae base as be a Slave? Let him turn and flee! Wha. Meet me on. When day. &c. Then thro' the dews I will repair. To steal upon her early fare. To meet my faithfu' Davie. Freedom's sword will strongly draw. And that's my ain dear Davie.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. wham Bruce has aften led. I flee to his arms I loe' the best. by Robert Burns Meet me on. 585 Robert Bruce's March To Bannockburn Scots. Or to Victorie! Now's the day. Meet me on. Welcome to your gory bed. for Scotland's King and Law. See the front o' battle lour. As purple morning starts the hare. and now's the hour.

O tell me. But they shall be free! Lay the proud Usurpers low! Tyrants fall in every foe! Liberty's in every blow!— Let us Do or Die! 586 Behold The Hour. Yon distant Isle will often hail: "E'en here I took the last farewell." I'll say." Along the solitary shore. can I survive.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. does she muse on me!" . The Boat Arrive Behold the hour. dashing roar. While flitting sea-fowl round me cry. the boat arrive. But Fate has will'd and we must part. "Where now my Nancy's path may be! While thro' thy sweets she loves to stray. Thou goest. I'll westward turn my wistful eye: "Happy thou Indian grove. latest mark'd her vanish'd sail. Across the rolling. by Robert Burns Let him on wi' me! By Oppression's woes and pains! By your Sons in servile chains! We will drain our dearest veins. There. the darling of my heart. I'll often greet the surging swell. Sever'd from thee.

Sic pleasure to renew?" Quoth Mary—"Love. His cheek to hers he aft did lay. While my heart is breaking. And thro' the flowery dale. Now thou'st left thy lass for aye— I maun see thee never. Thou has left me ever.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. I'll see thee never. Davie As down the burn they took their way. Thou hast left me ever: Aften hast thou vow'd that Death Only should us sever. Jamie Tune—"Fee him. And aye shall follow you. Jamie." Thou hast left me ever. when shall we return. Thou canst love another jo. by Robert Burns 587 Down The Burn. Thou hast me forsaken. Soon my weary een I'll close. Thou hast me forsaken. I like the burn. Jamie." Thou Hast Left Me Ever. And love was aye the tale: With "Mary. Thou hast me forsaken. Jamie. father. . fee him. Thou hast left me ever. Jamie. Thou hast me forsaken. Jamie.

Jamie. Nor Hope dare a comfort bestow: Come then. too well have I known. And grim. no. long. by Robert Burns Never mair to waken. Never mair to waken! 588 Where Are The Joys I have Met? Tune—"Saw ye my father. That danc'd to the lark's early song? Where is the peace that awaited my wand'ring. All that has caused this wreck in my bosom. Fain would I hide what I fear to discover. Is Jenny. But Sorrow and sad-sighing Care. . And marking sweet flowerets so fair. Time cannot aid me. fair Jenny alone. my griefs are immortal. enamour'd and fond of my anguish. surly Winter is near? No. No more I trace the light footsteps of Pleasure. Is it that Summer's forsaken our valleys. the bees humming round the gay roses Proclaim it the pride of the year. Enjoyment I'll seek in my woe. Yet long.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. At evening the wild-woods among? No more a winding the course of yon river." Where are the joys I have met in the morning.

my faithful Fair.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. There to throb and languish. my lovely Nancy. the pleasure The fickle Fair can give thee. Thine. . To thy bosom lay my heart. Ev'ry roving fancy. Ev'ry pulse along my veins. Good claret set before thee. Thy hopes will soon deceive thee: The billows on the ocean. find an honest fellow. Despise the silly creature. The cloud's uncertain motion. The Pleasure Tune—"The Collier's Dochter. by Robert Burns 589 Deluded Swain. They are but types of Woman." Deluded swain. Hold on till thou art mellow." Thine am I. And then to bed in glory! Thine Am I. Go. O art thou not asham'd To doat upon a feature? If Man thou wouldst be nam'd. Tho' despair had wrung its core. My Faithful Fair Tune—"The Quaker's Wife. The breezes idly roaming. Is but a fairy treasure.

Old Winter.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. "Now Jove. Lest I die with pleasure! What is life when wanting Love? Night without a morning: Love's the cloudless summer sun. with his frosty beard. Turn away thine eyes of love. Give me Maria's natal day! That brilliant gift shall so enrich me. 590 On Mrs. To counterbalance all this evil. Thus once to Jove his prayer preferred: "What have I done of all the year. so ends my story. Summer. Take away those rosy lips. Give me. and I've no more to say. Autumn. . Riddell's Birthday 4th November 1793. But spleeny English hanging. dreary slow. To bear this hated doom severe? My cheerless suns no pleasure know. Spring. And Winter once rejoiced in glory. drowning. cannot match me. Nature gay adorning." "'Tis done!" says Jove. Night's horrid car drags. for once be mighty civil. by Robert Burns That would heal its anguish. Rich with balmy treasure. My dismal months no joys are crowning.

" "One of two must still obey. husband. Strength to bear it will be given. Nancy. And so. Yet I'll try to make a shift. My spouse Nancy. Sir. so bereft. . Nancy. say. Tho' I am your wedded wife Yet I am not your slave. Think how you will bear it. Nancy. Sir. Is it Man or Woman. cease your strife." "Well. Nancy. Nancy. then break it must. My spouse Nancy?' "If 'tis still the lordly word." "My poor heart. Nor longer idly rave. I'll desert my sov'reign lord. Nancy. good bye. Sir. My last hour I am near it: When you lay me in the dust. allegiance!" "Sad shall I be. by Robert Burns 591 My Spouse Nancy Tune—"My Jo Janet." "I will hope and trust in Heaven. from the silent dead." "Husband. My spouse Nancy.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Service and obedience.

Nancy. "Ma'am. Told him I came to feast my curious eyes. nothing like his works was ever printed. December 4th. Epilogue. Calling the storms to bear him o'er a guilty land?" I could no more—askance the creature eyeing. Paint Vengeance as he takes his horrid stand. Then all hell will fly for fear. or some such matter." quoth my man of rhymes. A Prologue. Miss. Still anxious to secure your partial favour. than ever. by Robert Burns Still I'll try to daunt you. said I. Ever round your midnight bed Horrid sprites shall haunt you!" "I'll wed another like my dear Nancy. this night. My spouse Nancy. if nothing better. And last. sure. and solemn-rounded sentence. Waving on high the desolating brand. and sentimental tears. And not less anxious. at the Theatre. I own I have my fears— Dissolve in pause. 1793. So sought a poet.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns." 592 Address Spoken by Miss Fontenelle on her Benefit Night. Dumfries. With laden sighs. Said. let me tell you. Rouse from his sluggish slumbers. . fell Repentance. roosted near the skies. "I know your bent—these are no laughing times: Can you—but. my prologue-business slily hinted. 'Twould vamp my bill.

" his lordship roars. Measur'st in desperate thought—a rope—thy neck— Or. And as we're merry. moping elf? Laugh at her follies—laugh e'en at thyself: Learn to despise those frowns now so terrific. the world shall know it. "this face was made for crying? I'll laugh. . Still under bleak Misfortune's blasting eye. may we still be wise. by Robert Burns "D'ye think. Who. That Misery's another word for Grief: I also think—so may I be a bride! That so much laughter. so much life enjoy'd. 'tis my fix'd belief. be merry. thou silly. To sum up all. as the boughs all temptingly project." said I. And so. the wretch in love. Sirs. Thou other man of care. Thou man of crazy care and ceaseless sigh. that's poz-nay more. 593 Complimentary Epigram On Maria Riddell "Praise Woman still. And love a kinder—that's your grand specific. where the beetling cliff o'erhangs the deep. Doom'd to that sorest task of man alive— To make three guineas do the work of five: Laugh in Misfortune's face—the beldam witch! Say. Peerest to meditate the healing leap: Would'st thou be cur'd. your servant! gloomy Master Poet!" Firm as my creed. Who long with jiltish airs and arts hast strove. I advise. tho' you can't be rich.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. you'll be merry.

" Wilt thou be my Dearie? When Sorrow wring thy gentle heart. 594 1794 Remorseful Apology The friend whom. . all my thought and dream. The more I praise my lovely theme. by Robert Burns "Deserv'd or not. Ev'n Flattery cannot flatter: Maria. Ah! why should I such scenes outlive? Scenes so abhorrent to my heart!— 'Tis thine to pity and forgive. The more the truth I tell. O wilt thou let me cheer thee! By the treasure of my soul. Wilt Thou Be My Dearie? Tune—"The Sutor's Dochter. wild from Wisdom's way. whom all my soul adores. Inspires my vocal shell. (Not moony madness more astray) Who but deplores that hapless friend? Mine was th' insensate frenzied part. The fumes of wine infuriate send.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. no matter?" But thee.

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Auld Caledon drew out her drone." Amang the trees. by Robert Burns That's the love I bear thee: I swear and vow that only thou Shall ever be my Dearie! Only thou." They made our lugs grow eerie. Still trusting that thou lo'es me! 595 A Fiddler In The North Tune—"The King o' France he rade a race. Strathspeys. Thou for thine may choose me. and Reels. O. where humming bees. O: 'Twas Pibroch. I swear and vow. Or. Let me. At buds and flowers were hinging. She dirl'd them aff fu' clearly. canna be. quickly die. Sang. lassie. That dang her tapsalteerie. Their capon craws an' queer "ha. . O. let me quickly die. O: When there cam' a yell o' foreign squeels. The hungry bike did scrape and fyke. Shall ever be my Dearie! Lassie. O. And to her pipe was singing. O say na thou'lt refuse me! If it winna. Still trusting that thou lo'es me! Lassie. say thou lo'es me. if thou wilt na be my ain. ha's.

O. The cauld blae North was streaming forth Her lights. aughteen year awa'.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. &c. The burn. Chorus—A lassie all alone. And broken-hearted we maun die. by Robert Burns Till we were wae and weary. the air was till. wi' hissing. and our honour's gane an' a'. The winds were laid. &c. 596 The Minstrel At Lincluden Tune—"Cumnock Psalms. And tells the midnight moon her care. Was rushing by the ruin'd wa'. O: But a royal ghaist. And the distant-echoing glens reply. The stars they shot along the sky. That dang them tapsalteerie. eerie din. A prisoner. Where the howlet mourns in her ivy bower. adown its hazelly path. was making her moan. He fir'd a Fiddler in the North. Where the wa'flow'r scents the dery air. wha ance was cas'd. A lassie all alone. Hasting to join the sweeping Nith." As I stood by yon roofless tower. Lamenting our lads beyond the sea: In the bluidy wars they fa'. . The tod was howling on the hill. A lassie all alone. Whase roarings seem'd to rise and fa'.

Where the howlet mourns in her ivy bower. A lassie all alone. Like Fortune's favours. And frae his harp sic strains did flow. Her horn the pale-faced Cynthia rear'd. A lassie all alone. 597 A Vision As I stood by yon roofless tower. &c. When lo! in form of Minstrel auld. tint as win.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. it was a tale of woe. looking over firth and fauld. &c. He sang wi' joy his former day. And the distant echoing glens reply. by Robert Burns Athort the lift they start and shift. Where the wa'flower scents the dewy air. But what he said—it was nae play. weeping. I winna venture't in my rhymes. Might rous'd the slumbering Dead to hear. A stern and stalwart ghaist appear'd. But oh. wail'd his latter times. . As ever met a Briton's ear! A lassie all alone. And tells the midnight moon her care. He. The stars they shot alang the sky. Now. &c. A lassie all alone. the air was still. The fox was howling on the hill. The winds were laid. &c.

His daring look had daunted me. wi' hissing. by the moonbeam.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. 598 A Red. Athwart the lift they start and shift. He. By heedless chance I turn'd mine eyes. . wailed his latter times. Like Fortune's favors. The cauld blae North was streaming forth Her lights. by Robert Burns The stream. adown its hazelly path. Might rous'd the slumb'ring Dead to hear. tint as win. Red Rose] O my Luve's like a red. As ever met a Briton's ear! He sang wi' joy his former day. Had I a statue been o' stane. And on his bonnet grav'd was plain. eerie din. it was a tale of woe. Hasting to join the sweeping Nith. But what he said—it was nae play. The sacred posy—"Libertie!" And frae his harp sic strains did flow. But oh. Was rushing by the ruin'd wa's. And. I winna venture't in my rhymes. Red Rose [Hear Red. Attir'd as Minstrels wont to be. red rose. shook to see A stern and stalwart ghaist arise. weeping. Whase distant roaring swells and fa's.

Tho' 'twere ten thousand mile! 599 Young Jamie. And chang'd with every moon my love. my dear." Young Jamie. While the sands o' life shall run. So deep in luve am I. But now. And I will luve thee still. my bonie lass. That's sweetly play'd in tune. Thro' a' our lasses he did rove. Sae gallant and sae gay a swain. Or in the glens and rocky caves. wi' sighs and starting tears. pride of a' the plain. And fare-thee-weel. His sad complaining dowie raves:— "I wha sae late did range and rove. my Luve. Till a' the seas gang dry.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. As fair art thou. And the rocks melt wi' the sun. . a while! And I will come again. Till a' the seas gang dry. by Robert Burns That's newly sprung in June: O my Luve's like the melodie. Pride Of A' The Plain Tune—"The Carlin of the Glen. my only Luve! And fare-thee-weel. He strays amang the woods and breirs. And reign'd resistless King of Love. my dear. my dear. And I will luve thee still.

At once 'tis music and 'tis love. by Robert Burns I little thought the time was near. Repentance I should buy sae dear. and here the bower All underneath the birchen shade. O what can stay my lovely maid? 'Tis not Maria's whispering call. Along the flowery banks of Cree. It is Maria's voice I hear. Monody On a lady famed for her Caprice.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. The village-bell has told the hour. scornful Fair. "The slighted maids my torments see. 'Tis but the balmy breathing gale. Forbids me e'er to see her mair. faithful mate to cheer. The dewy star of eve to hail. And laugh at a' the pangs I dree. my cruel. Mixt with some warbler's dying fall. So calls the woodlark in the grove." 600 The Flowery Banks Of Cree Here is the glen. While she. . And art thou come! and art thou true! O welcome dear to love and me! And let us all our vows renew. His little.

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Loves. and Virtues. Which spurning Contempt shall redeem from his ire. ye shed not a tear: But come. gay in life's beam: Want only of wisdom denied her respect. And flowers let us cull for Maria's cold bier. How silent that tongue which the echoes oft tired. So shy. as thou livedst unlov'd. so typical. We'll roam thro' the forest for each idle weed. and distant. We'll sculpture the marble. by Robert Burns How cold is that bosom which folly once fired. we'll measure the lay. shower. How dull is that ear which to flatt'ry so listen'd! If sorrow and anguish their exit await. How doubly severer. Maria. Thou diedst unwept. 601 The Epitaph Here lies. . Graces. For none e'er approach'd her but rued the rash deed. now a prey to insulting neglect. all ye offspring of Folly so true. thy fate. grave. From friendship and dearest affection remov'd. We'll search through the garden for each silly flower. Want only of goodness denied her esteem. What once was a butterfly. How pale is that cheek where the rouge lately glisten'd. I call not on you. Here Vanity strums on her idiot lyre. But chiefly the nettle. There keen Indignation shall dart on his prey.

Walter Riddell Sic a reptile was Wat.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Where truant 'prentices. by Robert Burns 602 Pinned To Mrs. to whore. "In his flesh there's a famine. yet young in sin. riper for the string: From these dire scenes my wretched lines I date. half. "And his heart is rank poison!" another replies. relics of the drunken roar. Beat hemp for others. Where Infamy with sad Repentance dwells. Where strumpets. Where turnkeys make the jealous portal fast. If your stuff be as rotten's her heart." a starved reptile cries. Resolve to drink. Epistle From Esopus To Maria From those drear solitudes and frowsy cells. But a fly for your load. Walter Riddell's Carriage If you rattle along like your Mistress' tongue. nay. And deal from iron hands the spare repast. no more. Your speed will outrival the dart. That the worms ev'n damn'd him when laid in his grave. Blush at the curious stranger peeping in. Epitaph For Mr. To tell Maria her Esopus' fate. "Alas! I feel I am no actor here!" 'Tis real hangmen real scourges bear! . you'll break down on the road. Where tiny thieves not destin'd yet to swing. sic a miscreant slave.

Or. And steal from me Maria's prying eye. 603 . in Scottish senate bred. For other wars. Blest Highland bonnet! once my proudest dress. by Robert Burns Prepare Maria. where he a hero shines: The hopeful youth. And even out-Irish his Hibernian bronze. haughty Chieftain. The crafty Colonel leaves the tartan'd lines. By barber woven. no more I start in Hamlet. Will make thy hair.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Now prouder still. Though twisted smooth with Harry's nicest care. Like hoary bristles to erect and stare. 'mid the din of arms In Highland Bonnet. Comes 'mid a string of coxcombs. woo Malvina's charms. in Othello roar. for a horrid tale Will turn thy very rouge to deadly pale. his heresies in Church and State Might well award him Muir and Palmer's fate: Still she undaunted reels and rattles on. vici. And dares the public like a noontide sun. tho' erst from gipsy poll'd. to display That veni. And call each coxcomb to the wordy war: I see her face the first of Ireland's sons. And dreads a meeting worse than Woolwich hulks: Though there. The hero of the mimic scene. Maria's temples press. While sans-culottes stoop up the mountain high. is his way: The shrinking Bard adown the alley skulks. and by barber sold. vidi. I see her wave thy towering plumes afar. Who owns a Bushby's heart without the head.

and a fool in wit! 604 . pert. affected. And make a vast monopoly of hell? Thou know'st the Virtues cannot hate thee worse. that sound awakes my woes. Who on my fair one Satire's vengeance hurls— Who calls thee.)— Who christen'd thus Maria's lyre-divine The idiot strum of Vanity bemus'd. by Robert Burns What scandal called Maria's jaunty stagger The ricket reeling of a crooked swagger? Whose spleen (e'en worse than Burns' venom. when He dips in gall unmix'd his eager pen. stolen or strayed? A Workhouse! ah. That straw where many a rogue has lain of yore. As thou at all mankind the flag unfurls. Because thy guilt's supreme enough for all? Maria. And pillows on the thorn my rack'd repose! In durance vile here must I wake and weep.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. must they club their curse? Or must no tiny sin to others fall. And all my frowsy couch in sorrow steep. In all of thee sure thy Esopus shares. made For motley foundling Fancies. And vermin'd gipsies litter'd heretofore. vain coquette. Why. Lonsdale. A wit in folly. The Vices also. And pours his vengeance in the burning line. And even the abuse of Poesy abus'd?— Who called her verse a Parish Workhouse. thus thy wrath on vagrants pour? Must earth no rascal save thyself endure? Must thou alone in guilt immortal swell. send me too thy griefs and cares.

A bystander whispers—"Pray don't make so much o't. by Robert Burns Who says that fool alone is not thy due. Graham. Wm. Of Mossknowe "Stop thief!" dame Nature call'd to Death. But build a castle on his head. And dare the war with all of woman born: For who can write and speak as thou and I? My periods that deciphering defy.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. . His scull will prop it under. of Corbiston. How shall I make a fool again? My choicest model thou hast ta'en. Esq. And quotes thy treacheries to prove it true! Our force united on thy foes we'll turn. Light lay the earth on Billy's breast." On Wm. His chicken heart so tender.. The subject is poison. Some friends warmly thought of embalming his heart. no reptile will touch it. Roddirk. Lascelles When Lascelles thought fit from this world to depart. As Willy drew his latest breath. And thy still matchless tongue that conquers all reply! 605 Epitaph On A Noted Coxcomb Capt. On Capt.

No more. Thee. ye flowers. And soothe the Virtues weeping o'er his bier: The man of worth—and hath not left his peer! Is in his "narrow house.. How can ye charm. Spring! again with joy shall others greet. Nae joy nor pleasure can she see. ye warblers of the wood! no more. Devil—if you can! Sonnet On The Death Of Robert Riddell Of Glenriddell and Friars' Carse. alas! ." for ever darkly low. Esq. memory of my loss will only meet. with all your dyes? Ye blow upon the sod that wraps my friend! How can I to the tuneful strain attend? That strain flows round the untimely tomb where Riddell lies. ye warblers! pour the notes of woe.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Tinwald Downs Here lies John Bushby—honest man. More welcome were to me grim Winter's wildest roar. Nor pour your descant grating on my soul. Cheat him. by Robert Burns 606 On John Bushby. Me. Yes. For. e'en to morn she cries. pour. The Lovely Lass O' Inverness The lovely lass o' Inverness. Thou young-eyed Spring! gay in thy verdant stole.

my darling. As he was walking up the street. . The city for to view. My darling. "Drumossie moor. And by them lies the dearest lad That ever blest a woman's e'e! "Now wae to thee. Charlie. Their graves are growin' green to see. An' Charlie. The young Chevalier. &c. "Their winding-sheet the bluidy clay. he's my darling. and brethren three. My father dear. Right early in the year. Drumossie day— A waefu' day it was to me! For there I lost my father dear. That ne'er did wrang to thine or thee!" 607 Charlie. Chorus—An' Charlie. He's My Darling 'Twas on a Monday morning. The young Chevalier. That Charlie came to our town.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. by Robert Burns And aye the saut tear blin's her e'e. he's my darling. For mony a heart thou has made sair. A bluidy man I trow thou be. O there he spied a bonie lass The window looking through. thou cruel lord.

Bannocks o' barley. An' Charlie. by Robert Burns Sae light's he jumped up the stair. All in his Highland dress. Here's to the Highlandman's Bannocks o' barley! Wha. &c. For brawly weel he ken'd the way To please a bonie lass. &c. Wha. For Charlie and his men. Bannocks o' bear meal. It's up yon heathery mountain. will First cry a parley? Never the lads wi' the Bannocks o' barley. And tirl'd at the pin. in a brulyie.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. &c. in his wae days. An' Charlie. We daur na gang a milking. Were loyal to Charlie? . An' Charlie. &c. And wha sae ready as hersel' To let the laddie in. 608 Bannocks O' Bear Meal Chorus—Bannocks o' bear meal. He set his Jenny on his knee. An' down yon scroggie glen.

Ochon. Sae happy was as me. And bring hame a Carlisle cow.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Thro' the Lawlands. Ochon. by Robert Burns Wha but the lads wi' the Bannocks o' barley! Bannocks o' bear meal. It was na sae in the Highland hills. my sweet wee Donald. To buy a meal to me. 609 The Highland Balou Hee balou. Syne to the Highlands hame to me. Ochrie! Without a penny in my purse. Brawlie kens our wanton Chief Wha gat my young Highland thief. o'er the Border. Leeze me on thy bonie craigie. Ochon. thou'll steal a naigie. Picture o' the great Clanronald. my babie. The Highland Widow's Lament Oh I am come to the low Countrie. Travel the country thro' and thro'. may thou furder! Herry the louns o' the laigh Countrie. Ochon. Weel. . An' thou live. &c. Ochrie! Nae woman in the Country wide.

Ochrie! Nae woman in the warld wide. Sae far to set us free. Upon Culloden field. Ochrie! Skipping on yon bonie knowes. Ochon. And giving milk to me. Till Charlie Stewart cam at last. Right to the wrang did yield. Their waefu' fate what need I tell. Ochon. And Donald he was mine. may I repine. Sair. Oh I am come to the low Countrie. . And there I had three score o'yowes. Sae wretched now as me. by Robert Burns For then I had a score o'kye.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. 610 It Was A' For Our Rightfu' King It was a' for our rightfu' King We left fair Scotland's strand. My Donald's arm was wanted then. Ochon. Ochrie! Feeding on you hill sae high. My Donald and his Country fell. For Donald was the brawest man. I was the happiest of a' the Clan. sair. Ochon. For Scotland and for me. And casting woo' to me. Ochon. Ochon.

He turn'd him right and round about. And adiue for evermore. and weep. 611 Ode For General Washington's Birthday No Spartan tube. by Robert Burns It was a' for our rightfu' King We e'er saw Irish land. We e'er saw Irish land. my dear. And a' folk bound to sleep. I think on him that's far awa. and weep. My Love and Native Land fareweel. my dear. no Attic shell. . Never to meet again. Never to meet again. The lee-lang night. For I maun cross the main. my dear. For I maun cross the main. The lee-lang night. No lyre Aeolian I awake. my dear. When day is gane. The soger frae the wars returns. And a' is done in vain. With adieu for evermore. Upon the Irish shore. and night is come. But I hae parted frae my Love. 'Tis liberty's bold note I swell.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. The sailor frae the main. And gae his bridle reins a shake. my dear. Now a' is done that men can do.

while I sing. Canst laud the hand that struck th' insulting blow! Art thou of man's Imperial line? Dost boast that countenance divine? Each skulking feature answers. ye sons of Liberty. the Royalty of Man! Alfred! on thy starry throne. A broken chain exulting bring. Ye know. No! But come. crouching under the iron rod. And dare him to his very beard.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Columbia's offspring. servile. the loudest storm That e'er created fury dared to raise? Avaunt! thou caitiff. In danger's hour still flaming in the van. by Robert Burns Thy harp. let me take! See gathering thousands. base. The bards that erst have struck the patriot lyre. That tremblest at a despot's nod. And tell him he no more is feared— No more the despot of Columbia's race! A tyrant's proudest insults brav'd. And rous'd the freeborn Briton's soul of fire. Columbia. And dash it in a tyrant's face. Surrounded by the tuneful choir. Yet. No more thy England own! 612 . Where is man's god-like form? Where is that brow erect and bold— That eye that can unmov'd behold The wildest rage. They shout—a People freed! They hail an Empire saved. and dare maintain. brave as free.

Crush'd Usurpation's boldest daring!— Dark-quench'd as yonder sinking star. 613 . raise the exulting voice. That palsied arm no more whirls on the waste of war. Fam'd for the martial deed. "The tyrant's cause is mine!" That hour accurst how did the fiends rejoice And hell. thro' all her confines. Nor give the coward secret breath! Is this the ancient Caledonian form. Caledonia! thy wild heaths among. No more that glance lightens afar. That hour which saw the generous English name Linkt with such damned deeds of everlasting shame! Thee. resistless as the storm? Show me that eye which shot immortal hate. Show me that arm which. Disturb not ye the hero's sleep. by Robert Burns Dare injured nations form the great design. Firm as the rock. Where is that soul of Freedom fled? Immingled with the mighty dead. the heaven-taught song. Blasting the despot's proudest bearing. Wallace! in thy bed of death. Beneath that hallow'd turf where Wallace lies Hear it not. Ye babbling winds! in silence sweep. nerv'd with thundering fate. Every pang of honour braving. To make detested tyrants bleed? Thy England execrates the glorious deed! Beneath her hostile banners waving.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. To thee I turn with swimming eyes. England in thunder calls.

let me rove. How can I the thought forego— He's on the seas to meet the foe? Let me wander. Are with him that's far away. by Robert Burns 614 Inscription To Miss Graham Of Fintry Here.—On the seas and far away. where the Scottish Muse immortal lives. in luxury of tears. Or Pity's notes. wake his seraph song." How can my poor heart be glad. And heaven-born Piety her sanction seals. and thoughts by day. Discordant. though humble he who gives. But Peace attune thy gentle soul to rest. Chorus. ecstatic. Accept the gift. As modest Want the tale of woe reveals.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. In sacred strains and tuneful numbers joined. Or Love. While conscious Virtue all the strains endears. Rich is the tribute of the grateful mind. When absent from my sailor lad. So may no ruffian-feeling in my breast. Nightly dreams. On stormy seas and far away. jar thy bosom-chords among. On The Seas And Far Away Tune—"O'er the hills and far away. . Still my heart is with my love.

615 . by Robert Burns Nightly dreams and thoughts by day. Bullets. As weary flocks around me pant. All I can—I weep and pray. Spare but him that's far away. And bid wild War his ravage end. On stormy seas and far away.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Spare but him that's far away. Are aye with him that's far away. Haply in this scorching sun. do with me what you may. On the seas and far away. When in summer noon I faint. And as a brother kindly greet. And thunders rend the howling air. On the seas and far away. spare my darling boy! Fate. Man with brother Man to meet. thy olive wand extend. Surging on the rocky shore. Fate. All I can—I weep and pray For his weal that's far away. spare my only joy! Bullets. As the storms the forests tear. For his weal that's far away. At the starless. On stormy seas and far away. Listening to the doubling roar. My sailor's thund'ring at his gun. midnight hour When Winter rules with boundless power. do with me what you may. Peace.

Fairies dance sae cheery. To the moon sae clearly. My bonie Dearie. Thro' the hazels. Hark the mavis' e'ening sang. Ca' the yowes.—Ca'the yowes to the knowes. . &c.^1 Where. My bonie Dearie. at moonshine's midnight hours. Fill my sailor's welcome sails. O'er the waves that sweetly glide. by Robert Burns Then may heav'n with prosperous gales. Sounding Clouden's woods amang. 616 Ca' The Yowes To The Knowes—Second Version Chorus. O'er the dewy-bending flowers. To my arms their charge convey. spreading wide. On the seas and far away.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Ca' them where the burnie rowes. Yonder Clouden's silent towers. Ca' the yowes. We'll gae down by Clouden side. Then a-faulding let us gang. To my arms their charge convey. My dear lad that's far away. Ca' them where the heather grows. On stormy seas and far away. &c. My dear lad that's far away.

&c. &c." Sae flaxen were her ringlets. Her smiling. Ca' the yowes. [Footnote 1: An old ruin in a sweet situation at the confluence of the Clouden and the Nith. Thou hast stown my very heart. what treasure. Thou'rt to Love and Heav'n sae dear. Ghaist nor bogle shalt thou fear. sae wyling. When first that bonie face I saw. Nocht of ill may come thee near.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. . Unto these rosy lips to grow! Such was my Chloris' bonie face. by Robert Burns Ca' the yowes. Her eyebrows of a darker hue. Ca' the yowes. Wad make a wretch forget his woe. What pleasure. And aye my Chloris' dearest charm— She says. I can die—but canna part. My bonie Dearie.—R.] 617 She Says She Loes Me Best Of A' Tune—"Oonagh's Waterfall. she lo'es me best of a'. My bonie Dearie. &c. Bewitchingly o'er-arching Twa laughing e'en o' lovely blue. B. Fair and lovely as thou art.

she lo'es me best of a'. Her silver light the boughs amang. By conquering Beauty's sovereign law. recalling. And say. thou lo'es me best of a'. Maxwell On Miss Jessy Staig's recovery.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. and streaming. The dewy eve and rising moon. Her pretty ankle is a spy. wilt thou rove. Betraying fair proportion. Ilk feature—auld Nature Declar'd that she could do nae mair: Hers are the willing chains o' love. There. And gaudy show. Maxwell. Fair beaming. sae charming. While falling. . The amorous thrush concludes his sang. if merit here you crave. By wimpling burn and leafy shaw. Gie me the lonely valley. 618 To Dr. Wad make a saint forget the sky: Sae warming. Her faultless form and gracefu' air. And still my Chloris' dearest charm— She says. And hear my vows o' truth and love. at sunny noon. dearest Chloris. Let others love the city. by Robert Burns Like harmony her motion.

art not asham'd? Free and Equal indeed. . by Heavens! I exclaim'd. Liberty! girl. From the white-blossom'd sloe my dear Chloris requested A sprig. At Yarico's sweet nor of grief The rock with tears had flow'd. while mankind thou enchainest. Kemble In Yarico Kemble.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. You save fair Jessie from the grave!— An Angel could not die! 619 To The Beautiful Miss Eliza J—N On her Principles of Liberty and Equality. by Robert Burns That merit I deny. thou cur'st my unbelief For Moses and his rod. can it be by thee nam'd? Equality too! hussey. On Chloris Requesting me to give her a Spring of Blossomed Thorn. let me perish. her fair breast to adorn: No. if ever I plant in that bosom a thorn! On Seeing Mrs. How. And over their hearts a proud Despot so reignest.

So lovely in our eye. And sure they do not lie. Keep them. Bless Jesus Christ. With grateful. But body too shall rise. Cardoness. We grant they're thine. Dr. lifted eyes. That there is a falsehood in his looks. Then hadst thou lain for ever." Alas. . those beauties all. For had He said "the soul alone From death I will deliver. by Robert Burns 620 Epigram On A Country Laird. thou eunuch. Babington's very looks. I must and will deny: They tell their Master is a knave.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. For others to enjoy! On Hearing It Asserted Falsehood is expressed in the Rev. not quite so wise as Solomon. O Cardonessp. alas! O Cardoness. On Being Shewn A Beautiful Country Seat Belonging to the same Laird. Who taught that not the soul alone.

But wilily he chang'd his plan.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. On A Swearing Coxcomb Here cursing. here lies an imp o' hell. or "Dem my eyes!" Who in his life did little good. a beau. A buck. If ever he rise. An' shap'd it something like a man. he's damned himsel'. An' coost it in a corner. To save the Lord the trouble. . On Andrew Turner In se'enteen hunder'n forty-nine. whose titles were shamm'd. The deil gat stuff to mak a swine. And his last words were "Dem my blood!" On An Innkeeper Nicknamed "The Marquis" Here lies a mock Marquis. swearing Burton lies. Planted by Satan's dibble. An' ca'd it Andrew Turner. by Robert Burns 621 On A Suicide Earth'd up. Poor silly wretch. it will be to be damn'd.

Altho' I love my Chloris mair Than ever tongue could tell. Wi' linked hands we took the sands. Wi' nae proportion wanting. If from the lover thou maun flee. Wha did I meet come down the street. That thou of love wilt hear. . But pretty Peg. I wish thee well. And a' my nightly dream. that sweet hour and shady bower. Oh. I'll hide the struggle in my heart. My passion I will ne'er declare— I'll say. Chloris. by Robert Burns 622 Pretty Peg As I gaed up by yon gate-end. And say it is esteem.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. my dearie! Her air sae sweet. Forget it shall I never! Esteem For Chloris As. Tho' a' my daily care thou art. an' shape complete. Adown yon winding river. Yet let the friend be dear. When day was waxin' weary. The Queen of Love did never move Wi' motion mair enchanting. since it may not be.

And oh. What says she my dear.—For oh. her window'd heart is sair. my Philly? What says she my dear. she's wi' a new Love. My Philly Tune—"When she cam' ben she bobbit. my Philly? O saw ye my Dear. That's absent frae her Dearie! When I think on the lightsome days I spent wi' thee. by Robert Burns 623 Saw Ye My Dear. her Willy. I restless lie frae e'en to morn Though I were ne'er sae weary. her lanely nights are lang! And oh. She's down i' the grove. her dreams are eerie. my Philly? She lets thee to wit she has thee forgot. And forever disowns thee. . and fause as thou's fair." O saw ye my Dear. my Philly! O had I ne'er seen thee. Chorus. How Lang And Dreary Is The Night How lang and dreary is the night When I am frae my Dearie. my Philly! As light as the air. my Philly. my Dearie. She winna come hame to her Willy. O had I ne'er seen thee. Thou's broken the heart o' thy Willy.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns.

Nature's mighty Law is change. would it not seem strange Man should then a monster prove! Mark the winds. by Robert Burns And now what seas between us roar. Round and round the seasons go. Ladies. . Ocean's ebb.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. How can I be but eerie? For oh. Let not Woman e'er complain Fickle Man is apt to rove: Look abroad thro' Nature's range. you know. The joyless day how dreary: It was na sae ye glinted by. Why then ask of silly Man To oppose great Nature's plan? We'll be constant while we can— You can be no more." Let not Woman e'er complain Of inconstancy in love. Sun and moon but set to rise. and mark the skies. &c. &c. ye heavy hours. 624 Inconstancy In Love Tune—"Duncan Gray. and ocean's flow. How slow ye move. When I was wi' my Dearie! For oh.

dark. Nature. wi' sangs o' joy. When frae my Chloris parted. Sad. Or up the heathy mountain.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Such to me my lovely maid. Now." Sleep'st thou. Phoebus gilding the brow of morning. freely. to the streaming fountain. The laverock to the sky Ascends. Banishes ilk darksome shade. 'Tis then—'tis then I wake to life and joy! . and roe. hind. While the sun and thou arise to bless the day. by Robert Burns 625 The Lover's Morning Salute To His Mistress Tune—"Deil tak the wars. cheerless. fairest creature? Rosy morn now lifts his eye. Numbering ilka bud which Nature Waters wi' the tears o' joy. gladdening and adorning. cloudy. Its lay the linnet pours. broken-hearted. In pride of Beauty's light— When thro' my very heart Her burning glories dart. In twining hazel bowers. The hart. wildly-wanton stray. The night's gloomy shades. or wak'st thou. o'ercast my sky: But when she charms my sight.

But my white pow. My Love. And nights o' sleepless pain: Thou golden time. Sinks in Time's wintry rage. The lav'rock shuns the palace gay. in rich array. Why comes thou not again! Behold. I ween. Yet maiden May. my love. Oh. And wave thy flowing hair. . nae kindly thowe Shall melt the snaws of Age. The primrose banks how fair. Thro' gentle showers. Age has weary days. And o'er the cottage sings: For Nature smiles as sweet. How Green The Groves Tune—"My lodging is on the cold ground. The balmy gales awake the flowers. the laughing flowers In double pride were gay: But now our joys are fled On winter blasts awa." Behold. o' Youthfu' prime. by Robert Burns 626 The Winter Of Life But lately seen in gladsome green. but buss or beild. My trunk of eild.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. To Shepherds as to Kings. Again shall bring them a'. The woods rejoic'd the day. how green the groves.

to deck That spotless breast o' thine: The courtiers' gems may witness love." It was the charming month of May. by the break of day. In shepherd's phrase. In lordly lighted ha': The Shepherd stops his simple reed. Girt on her mantle and her hose. in the flowery glen. And o'er the flow'ry mead she goes— The youthful. will woo: The courtier tells a finer tale. Blythe in the birken shaw. 627 The Charming Month Of May Tune—"Daintie Davie. . The Princely revel may survey Our rustic dance wi' scorn. One morning. Beneath the milk-white thorn! The shepherd.—Lovely was she by the dawn. But are their hearts as light as ours. charming Chloe. When all the flow'rs were fresh and gay. 'tis na love like mine. But. The youthful. Chorus. charming Chloe— From peaceful slumber she arose.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. by Robert Burns Let minstrels sweep the skilfu' string. But is his heart as true! These wild-wood flowers I've pu'd.

Outrival'd by the radiant eyes Of youthful. Shall welcome thee. Lassie wi' the. In notes of sweetest melody They hail the charming Chloe.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. . Tripping o'er the pearly lawn. O. &c. charming Chloe. Lovely was she. O? Now Nature cleeds the flowery lea. The youthful. And a' is young and sweet like thee. Till. artless lassie. Wilt thou be my Dearie. painting gay the eastern skies.—Lassie wi'the lint-white locks. Bonie lassie. The primrose bank. The cuckoo on the milk-white thorn. The wanton lambs at early morn. O. charming Chloe. O wilt thou share its joys wi' me. my Dearie. the wimpling burn. charming Chloe. by Robert Burns Youthful Chloe. The glorious sun began to rise. The feather'd people you might see Perch'd all around on every tree. Wilt thou wi' me tent the flocks." Chorus. &c. 628 Lassie Wi' The Lint-White Locks Tune—"Rothiemurchie's Rant. And say thou'lt be my Dearie.

Thro' yellow waving fields we'll stray. To be my ain dear Willy. Lassie wi' the.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. 629 Dialogue song—Philly And Willy Tune—"The Sow's tail to Geordie. She. Lassie wi' the. At sultry noon. When roving thro' the gather'd hay. . &c." He. I'll comfort thee. And when the howling wintry blast Disturbs my Lassie's midnight rest. my Dearie. O. my Dearie. Lassie wi' the. And talk o' love. Enclasped to my faithfu' breast. When Cynthia lights. by Robert Burns Lassie wi' the. &c. And by thy charms. &c. We'll to the breathing woodbine bower. O Willy. happy be that day. O. aye I bless the grove Where first I own'd my maiden love. Both. wi' silver ray. &c. my Dearie. The weary shearer's hameward way. O Philly. For a' the joys that gowd can gie. Whilst thou did pledge the Powers above. my Philly. And when the welcome simmer shower Has cheer'd ilk drooping little flower. O. My youthfu' heart was stown away.

For a' the joys. She. He. She. The lass I love's the lass for me. When ev'ning shades in silence meet. Still richer breathes and fairer blows. And that's my ain dear Philly. He. by Robert Burns I dinna care a single flie. For a' the joys. As meeting o' my Willy. Both. She. &c. Did ne'er to me sic tidings bring. So in my tender bosom grows The love I bear my Willy. The bee that thro' the sunny hour Sips nectar in the op'ning flower. As on the brier the budding rose.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. As songsters of the early year. And that's my ain dear Willy. Compar'd wi' my delight is poor. &c. The lad I love's the lad for me. Upon the lips o' Philly. The milder sun and bluer sky That crown my harvest cares wi' joy. He. The woodbine in the dewy weet. Tho' wafting o'er the flowery Spring. The little swallow's wanton wing. Were ne'er sae welcome to my eye As is a sight o' Philly. Is nocht sae fragrant or sae sweet 630 . So ilka day to me mair dear And charming is my Philly. Are ilka day mair sweet to hear. Both.

Chorus—Contented wi' little. And that's my ain dear Philly.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. And fools may tine and knaves may win. Contented wi' little. She. and cantie wi' mair. And my Freedom's my Lairdship nae monarch dare touch. should that be may fa'. A night o' gude fellowship sowthers it a': When at the blythe end o' our journey at last. Let fortune's wheel at random rin. Both. But Man is a soger. The lad I love's the lad for me. &c." Contented wi' little. A townmond o' trouble. I gie them a skelp as they're creeping alang. &c. and Life is a faught. He. Whene'er I forgather wi' Sorrow and Care. And that's my ain dear Willy. Both. Wi' a cog o' gude swats and an auld Scottish sang. 631 Contented Wi' Little And Cantie Wi' Mair Tune—"Lumps o' Puddin'. Wha the deil ever thinks o' the road he has past? . by Robert Burns As is a kiss o' Willy. For a' the joys. For a' the joys. What's a' the joys that gowd can gie? I dinna care a single flie. &c. I whiles claw the elbow o' troublesome thought. My thoughts are a' bound up in ane. &c. My mirth and gude humour are coin in my pouch.

let her snapper and stoyte on her way. Nor wist while it enslav'd me.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. O Eliza. thou stream that winding flows Around Eliza's dwelling. To feel a fire in every vein. or come Travail. e'en let the jade gae: Come Ease. I fain my griefs would cover. yet nothing fear'd. My warst word is: "Welcome. Betray the hapless lover. nor canst relieve me. and welcome again!" Contented wi' little. &c. Nor dare disclose my anguish. Blind Chance. O mem'ry! spare the cruel thoes Within my bosom swelling. . come Pleasure or Pain. by Robert Burns Contented wi' little. Nor wilt. Love's veriest wretch. Condemn'd to drag a hopeless chain And yet in secret languish. The bursting sigh. I know thou doom'st me to despair. I saw thine eyes. unknown. &c. unseen. Be't to me. be't frae me. hear one prayer— For pity's sake forgive me! The music of thy voice I heard. 632 Farewell Thou Stream Air—"Nansie's to the greenwood gane. But. th' unweeting groan." Farewell.

Thus cruelly to part. by Robert Burns Till fears no more had sav'd me: Th' unwary sailor thus. In overwhelming ruin. &c. my Katie! Canst thou leave me. Farewell! and ne'er such sorrows tear That finkle heart of thine. my Katie? Is this thy faithful swain's reward— An aching. My Katie Tune—"Roy's Wife. 633 Canst Thou Leave Me Thus. But not a love like mine. my Katie. &c.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. aghast The wheeling torrent viewing. for pity? Is this thy plighted. my Katie? Canst thou leave me thus. Canst thou leave me. And canst thou leave me thus. 'Mid circling horrors sinks at last." Now in her green mantle blythe Nature arrays. my Katie! Thou maysn find those will love thee dear. My Nanie's Awa Tune—"There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame. fond regard. And listens the lambkins that bleat o'er her braes. broken heart. my Katie? Well thou know'st my aching heart. ." Chorus—Canst thou leave me thus.

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. But this bruised heart that now bleeds in my breast. But to me it's delightless—my Nanie's awa. by its throbbings. Come Autumn. They mind me o' Nanie—and Nanie's awa. I can feel. . dreary Winter. Give over for pity—my Nanie's awa. and the tear's in my e'e. Wha wad soon dry the tear-drop that clings to my e'e. They pain my sad bosom. in yellow and grey. 634 The Tear-Drop Wae is my heart. The snawdrap and primrose our woodlands adorn. And violetes bathe in the weet o' the morn. and sair hae I pruv'd. sae sweetly they blaw. Thou lav'rock that springs frae the dews of the lawn. and deep hae I luv'd. my burden I bear. And thou mellow mavis that hails the night-fa'. lang has Joy been a stranger to me: Forsaken and friendless. Lang. The shepherd to warn o' the grey-breaking dawn. For there he is wand'ring and musing on me. by Robert Burns While birds warble welcomes in ilka green shaw. will soon be at rest. And soothe me wi' tidings o' Nature's decay: The dark. if I were—where happy I hae been— Down by yon stream. Oh. thou hast sorrows. sae pensive. and wild-driving snaw Alane can delight me—now Nanie's awa. And the sweet voice o' Pity ne'er sounds in my ear. Love. Love thou hast pleasures. and yon bonie castle-green.

sweetly smile on Somebody! Frae ilka danger keep him free. an' a' that." Is there for honest Poverty That hings his head. by Robert Burns 635 For The Sake O' Somebody My heart is sair—I dare na tell. Ye Powers that smile on virtuous love. 1795 A Man's A Man For A' That Tune—"For a' that. And send me safe my Somebody! O-hon! for Somebody! O-hey! for Somebody! I wad do—what wad I not? For the sake o' Somebody. O. I could wake a winter night For the sake o' Somebody. The coward slave—we pass him by. For the sake o' Somebody. My heart is sair for Somebody.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. O-hon! for Somebody! O-hey! for Somebody! I could range the world around. .

636 . an' a' that. ca'd a lord. an' a' that. What though on hamely fare we dine. Their dignities an' a' that. A prince can mak a belted knight. by Robert Burns We dare be poor for a' that! For a' that. But an honest man's abon his might. Wha struts. Is king o' men for a' that. and knaves their wine. He's but a coof for a' that: For a' that. Gie fools their silks. The Man's the gowd for a' that. an' a that. His ribband. tho' e'er sae poor. an' pride o' worth. A marquis. star. The honest man.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Then let us pray that come it may. Are higher rank than a' that. Wear hoddin grey. an' a' that. an' a' that. Gude faith. and a' that. Their tinsel show. The pith o' sense. Ye see yon birkie. Our toils obscure an' a' that. an' a' that. an' a' that: The man o' independent mind He looks an' laughs at a' that. The rank is but the guinea's stamp. an' a' that. an' stares. A Man's a Man for a' that: For a' that. he maunna fa' that! For a' that. duke. Tho' hundreds worship at his word.

If I conceal it langer. Shall bear the gree. And Care his bosom wringing! Fain.) That Sense and Worth. When yon green leaves fade frae the tree. If thou shalt love another. Around my grave they'll wither. But what a weary wight can please. Yet dare na for your anger. It's coming yet for a' that. the world o'er. 637 Craigieburn Wood Sweet fa's the eve on Craigieburn. by Robert Burns (As come it will for a' that. I hear the wild birds singing. For a' that. an' a' that. an' a' that. o'er a' the earth.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. I see the flowers and spreading trees. But secret love will break my heart. Shall brothers be for a' that. . If thou refuse to pity me. fain would I my griefs impart. And blythe awakes the morrow. That Man to Man. But a' the pride o' Spring's return Can yield me nocht but sorrow.

indulge thy sneer. by Robert Burns 638 Versicles of 1795 The Solemn League And Covenant The Solemn League and Covenant Now brings a smile. was theirs: If thou'rt a slave. so beware! Nay. 'Twere drink for first of human kind. Inscription On A Goblet There's Death in the cup. O had the malt thy strength of mind. . But sacred Freedom. Compliments Of John Syme Of Ryedale Lines sent with a Present of a Dozen of Porter. The man and his wine's so bewitching! Apology For Declining An Invitation To Dine No more of your guests. Dumfries. Jerusalem Tavern. But who can avoid the fell snare.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. too. more—there is danger in touching. Or hops the flavour of thy wit. A gift that e'en for Syme were fit. now brings a tear. be they titled or not.

Who is proof to thy personal converse and wit. thou art a man of worth.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Is proof to all other temptation. 639 Epitaph For Mr. he drink. Epigram On Mr. O' Boreas o'er the pool. In upright. When bitter bites the frost. When birks are bare at Yule. Cauld blaws the e'enin blast. Gabriel Richardson Here Brewer Gabriel's fire's extinct. Who fauts thy weight or measure! Bonie Peg-a-Ramsay Cauld is the e'enin blast. O be thou Dean for ever! May he be damned to hell henceforth. in the mirk and dreary drift. And empty all his barrels: He's blest—if. James Gracie Gracie. honest morals. The hills and glens are lost: Ne'er sae murky blew the night . by Robert Burns And cookery the first in the nation. An' dawin' it is dreary. And. as he brew'd.

But the bonie lass he lo'ed sae dear. 640 There Was A Bonie Lass There was a bonie lass. or his bosom assail. Wi' mony a sigh and tear. where the cannons loudly roar. Wee Willie Gray. by Robert Burns This ivied cot was dear. And nocht could him quail. Twice a lily-flower will be him sark and cravat. Wandr'er. Till War's loud alarms tore her laddie frae her arms." Wee Willie Gray. The rose upon the breir will be him trews an' doublet. Wee Willie Gray Tune—"Wee Totum Fogg. Over sea. Feathers of a flee wad feather up his bonnet. over shore. Peel a willow wand to be him boots and jacket. And she lo'ed her bonie laddie dear. and his leather wallet. bonie lass. dost value matchless worth? This ivied cot revere. The rose upon the breir will be him trews an' doublet. . and his leather wallet. He still was a stranger to fear. Feathers of a flee wad feather up his bonnet. and a bonie.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns.

My pains o' hell on earth is past. &c.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. An' aft my wife she bang'd me. O aye my wife. Gude Ale Keeps The Heart Aboon Chorus—O gude ale comes and gude ale goes. Feathers of a flee wad feather up his bonnet. But never honest man's intent Sane cursedly miscarried. Gude faith! she'll soon o'er-gang ye. &c. and pawn my shoon— Gude ale keeps my heart aboon! . If ye gie a woman a' her will. 641 O Aye My Wife She Dang Me Chorus—O aye my wife she dang me. and his leather wallet. On peace an' rest my mind was bent. Sell my hose. by Robert Burns The rose upon the breir will be him trews an' doublet. Gude ale gars me sell my hose. When a' thir days are done. Feathers of a flee wad feather up his bonnet. man. Some sairie comfort at the last. fool I was! I married. I'm sure o' bliss aboon. Twice a lily-flower will be him sark and cravat. And. O aye my wife. man. Wee Willie Gray.

And ca' anither gill. jo. an' haud her gaun. jo: That gin the lassie winna do't. Then leave the lassie till her fate. jo. &c. An' gin she tak the thing amiss. Gude ale hauds me bare and busy. 642 O Steer Her Up An' Haud Her Gaun O steer her up. Stand i' the stool when I hae done— Gude ale keeps the heart aboon! O gude ale comes. E'en let her tak her will. by Robert Burns I had sax owsen in a pleugh. An' gin she winna tak a man. O steer her up. And they drew a' weel eneugh: I sell'd them a' just ane by ane— Gude ale keeps the heart aboon! O gude ale comes. . Gars me moop wi' the servant hizzie. jo. Her mither's at the mill. &c. an' be na blate. jo. But think upon it still. Ye'll find anither will. And time nae langer spill. jo.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. E'en let her flyte her fill. jo. First shore her wi' a gentle kiss. An' gin she tak it ill. jo: Ne'er break your heart for ae rebute.

and spinning wheel. O haud your tongue and jauner I held the gate till you I met. A' forbye my bonie sel. I wad wit? For Love has bound me hand an' fit. A mickle quarter basin: Bye attour my Gutcher has A heich house and a laich ane. I tint my peace and pleasure. This ae. are ye sleepin yet. . by Robert Burns 643 The Lass O' Ecclefechan Tune—"Jack o' Latin." Gat ye me. Wad airt me to my treasure. O haud your tongue now. And I would fain be in. O gat ye me wi' naething? Rock an reel. Or are ye waukin. O gat ye me. Syne I began to wander: I tint my whistle and my sang. O Let Me In Thes Ae Night O Lassie. Lucky Lang. now Lucky Lang. jo. ae night.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Chorus—O let me in this ae night. But your green graff. The toss o' Ecclefechan. ae.

&c. And ance for a' this ae night. This ae. Chorus—I tell you now this ae night. &c. That round the pathless wand'rer pours Is nocht to what poor she endures. The bitter blast that round me blaws. &c. I'll no come back again. ae. at mirkest hours. 644 Her Answer O tell na me o' wind an' rain. The snellest blast. ae night. The sweetest flower that deck'd the mead. I tell you now. Gae back the gate ye cam again. O let me in. . by Robert Burns O let me in this ae night. jo. That's trusted faithless man. jo. Unheeded howls. And shield me frae the rain. I winna let ye in. jo! O hear'st thou not the wind an' weet? Nae star blinks thro' the driving sleet. Upbraid na me wi' cauld disdain. I winna let ye in. jo.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. jo. Tak pity on my weary feet. O let me in. jo. unheeded fa's. The cauldness o' thy heart's the cause Of a' my care and pine.

And stownlins we sall meet again. my fairest faithfu' lass. . The bird that charm'd his summer day.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. jo! I tell you now." Chorus—I'll aye ca' in by yon town. I'll aye ca' in. I tell you now. trusting. There's nane sall ken. &c. She'll wander by the aiken tree. by Robert Burns Now trodden like the vilest weed— Let simple maid the lesson read The weird may be her ain. I'll aye ca' in. &c. But she. Woman say How aft her fate's the same. O haith! she's doubly dear again. jo. And see my bonie Jean again. &c. Is now the cruel Fowler's prey. I'll aye ca' in by yon town. When trystin time draws near again. &c. And when her lovely form I see. And by yon garden-green again. there's nane can guess What brings me back the gate again. Let witless. 645 I'll Aye Ca' In By Yon Town Air—"I'll gang nae mair to yon toun.

The season to my Jeanie dear.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. The dearest maid's in yon town. That e'ening sun is shining on. by Robert Burns 646 O Wat Ye Wha's In Yon Town Tune—"I'll gang nae mair to yon toun. not a' the charms O' Paradise could yield me joy. is my Jean. But my delight in yon town. Now haply down yon gay green shaw. Ye catch the glances o' her e'e! O wat ye wha's. But give me Jeanie in my arms And welcome Lapland's dreary sky! O wat ye wha's. How blest ye flowers that round her blaw. My cave wad be a lover's bower. &c. Tho' raging Winter rent the air. . And doubly welcome be the Spring. Among the broomy braes sae green. &c. And she a lovely little flower. O wat ye wha's. She wanders by yon spreading tree. How blest ye birds that round her sing. Without my Fair. &c. &c. O wat ye wha's." Chorus—O wat ye wha's in yon town. And dearest pleasure. Ye see the e'enin sun upon. The sun blinks blythe on yon town. And welcome in the blooming year.

O wat ye wha's. His setting beam ne'er shone upon. She has the truest. O spare me Jeanie dear. The sinkin. And she. A fairer than's in yon town. Thro' Galloway and a' that. And suff'ring I am doom'd to bear. and a' that. O sweet is she in yon town. O wat ye wha's. Heron's Election. 1795 Ballad First Whom will you send to London town. But spare. &c. O wat ye wha's. I careless quit aught else below. &c. 647 Ballads on Mr. Where is the Laird or belted Knight The best deserves to fa' that? . O wat ye wha's. For while life's dearest blood is warm. If angry Fate is sworn my foe.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. kindest heart. &c. by Robert Burns That I wad tent and shelter there. &c. as fairest is her form. To Parliament and a' that? Or wha in a' the country round The best deserves to fa' that? For a' that. Ae thought frae her shall ne'er depart. sun's gane down upon.

and a' that.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. But why should we to Nobles jouk. star and a' that. And has a doubt of a' that? For a' that. For a' that. Here's Heron yet for a' that! 648 . Here's Heron yet for a' that! A Lord may be a lousy loun. Tho' wit and worth. Here's Heron yet for a' that! The independent commoner Shall be the man for a' that. A man we ken. (And wha is't never saw that?) Wha ever wi' Kerroughtree met. and a' that. star and a' that. in either sex. Wi' Dukes and Lords let Selkirk mix. Saint Mary's Isle can shaw that. For a' that. Here's Heron yet for a' that! The independent patriot. But we'll hae ane frae mang oursels. And is't against the law. Wi' uncle's purse and a' that. And weel does Selkirk fa' that. Wi' ribband. A beardless boy comes o'er the hills. a Lord may be a gowk. by Robert Burns Wha sees Kerroughtree's open yett. and a' that. Wi' ribband. and a' that. The honest man. and a' that. that? For why. For a' that. and a' that.

649 . Here's Heron yet for a' that! A House of Commons such as he. Commander. For there will be bickerin' there. and a' that. the battle to win. And O how the heroes will swear! And there will be Murray. Dame Justice fu' brawly has sped. and a' that. And there will be Wigton's new Sheriff. But as to his fine Nabob fortune. let us a' to the Bridal. Like naigs. They wad be blest that saw that. For a' that. let us a' to Kirkcudbright. We'll e'en let the subject alane. Then let us drink—The Stewartry. Our representative to be. For Murray's light horse are to muster.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Kerroughtree's laird. And Gordon." Fy. and a' that. And there will be Kempleton's birkie. For weel he's worthy a' that. Ballad Second—Election Day Tune—"Fy. and nowt. Like brothers they'll stand by each other. And there will be black-nebbit Johnie. Sae knit in alliance and kin. by Robert Burns For we're not to be bought and sold. The Deil gets na justice ava. An he get na Hell for his haddin'. The tongue o' the trump to them a'. A boy no sae black at the bane.

Muirhead wha's as gude as he's true. And also the Wild Scot o' Galloway. But we winna mention Redcastle. And there will be Buittle's Apostle. An 'twere na the cost o' the rape. To save them from stark reprobation. A wight that will weather damnation. e'en let him escape! He'd venture the gallows for siller. Abjuring their democrat doings. Wha's mair o' the black than the blue. The Devil the prey will despise. Esquire. Lord! what's become o' the head? And there will be Cardoness. Sae mighty in Cardoness' eyes. Sculdudd'ry an' he will be there. The deil ane but honours them highly— The deil ane will gie them his vote! And there will be Kenmure sae gen'rous. But. By kissin' the-o' a Peer: And there will be folk frae Saint Mary's A house o' great merit and note. The body. And there will be lads o' the gospel.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. by Robert Burns She's gotten the heart of a Bushby. Sogering. And there will be Logan M'Dowall. gunpowder Blair. 650 . Whose honour is proof to the storm. New christening towns far and near. And there will be Douglasses doughty. He lent them his name in the Firm.

And there. Yet luckily roars i' the right. staunch Geordie. Wha'll ne'er be forgot in the Greys. by Robert Burns But where is the Doggerbank hero. That made "Hogan Mogan" to skulk? Poor Keith's gane to hell to be fuel. And where is our King's Lord Lieutenant.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. frae the Niddisdale borders. only it's justice to praise. The auld rotten wreck of a Hulk. The Maxwells will gather in droves. And there'll be Stamp Office Johnie. But mark ye! there's trusty Kerroughtree. Nae gipsy-like nominal barons. Our flatt'ry we'll keep for some other. If the Virtues were pack'd in a parcel. Whose honor was ever his law. an' Wellwood. (Tak tent how ye purchase a dram!) 651 . That griens for the fishes and loaves. Wha's property's paper—not land. Sae fam'd for his gratefu' return? The birkie is gettin' his Questions To say in Saint Stephen's the morn. And strang an' respectfu's his backing. His worth might be sample for a'. And there will be Heron. And there will be roarin Birtwhistle. And there will be maiden Kilkerran. Teugh Jockie. the Major. And also Barskimming's gude Knight. Him. The maist o' the lairds wi' him stand.

Then hey! the chaste Interest o' Broughton And hey! for the blessin's 'twill bring. Ballad Third John Bushby's Lamentation." 'Twas in the seventeen hunder year O' grace. The sun raise clear an' bright. But gied the auld naig to the Lord. yet men not the worst.) And there will be Collieston's whiskers. In March the three-an'-twentieth morn. Our land wha wi' chapels has stor'd.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. by Robert Burns And there will be gay Cassencarry. And Quintin—a lad o' the first. Dame Fortune should hing by the neck. Ere to-fa' o' the night. Tune—"Babes in the Wood. In Sodom 'twould make him a king. For prodigal. It may send Balmaghie to the Commons. And hey! for the sanctified Murray. He founder'd his horse among harlots. and ninety-five. But oh! I was a waefu' man. And there will be rich brother nabobs. That year I was the wae'est man Of ony man alive. And there'll be wealthy young Richard. (Tho' Nabobs. And there'll be gleg Colonel Tam. 652 . thriftless bestowing— His merit had won him respect. Yerl Galloway lang did rule this land.

And Broughton's wi' the slain. But Garlies was to London gane. Yerl Galloway's man o' men was I. And sae the kye might stray. That auld grey yaud a' Nidsdale rade.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. I ween. Wi' winged spurs did ride. He staw upon Nidside. 653 . But now Yerl Galloway's sceptre's broke. The faithfu' tyke will trust. And frae Glenkens cam to our aid A chief o' doughty deed. And there was Balmaghie. Did muster a' their powers. Sin' honesty is gane. But Balmaghie had better been Drinkin' Madeira wine. And I my ancient craft may try. O there had been nae play. And there had na been the Yerl himsel. The Stewart and the Murray there. And thereto was his kinsmen join'd. In front rank he wad shine. The Murray's noble name. by Robert Burns Wi' equal right and fame. In case that worth should wanted be. on a string. Then Murray on the auld grey yaud. So twa blind beggars. 'Twas by the banks o' bonie Dee. Beside Kirkcudbright's towers. And chief o' Broughton's host.

And by our banners march'd Muirhead. My gamesome billie. Whase haly priesthood nane could stain. We set nought to their score. Look'd on till a' was done. Had felt our weight before. But Douglasses o' weight had we. And christenin' kail-yards. For building cot-houses sae fam'd. The pair o' lusty lairds. Will.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Ae knave was constant in his mind— To keep that knave frae scaith. by Robert Burns O' Kenmure we had need. wise as brave. And my son Maitland. That ne'er was stain'd wi' gore. For wha could dye the black? And there was grave squire Cardoness. And last cam creepin' Collieston. To drive him frae his door. And there Redcastle drew his sword. And Buittle was na slack. My footsteps follow'd still. The Douglas and the Heron's name. Sae in the tower o' Cardoness A howlet sits at noon. Save on a wand'rer lame and blind. The Douglas and the Heron's name. Was mair in fear than wrath. 654 . And there led I the Bushby clan.

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. The Cardin O't. The warpin' o't. The cardin o't. Thou of an independent mind. and worship here. To mak a wab to Johnie o't. When ilka ell cost me a groat. Thy own reproach alone dost fear— Approach this shrine. . The tailor staw the lynin' o't. Chorus—The cardin' o't. Who wilt not be. &c. For Johnie is my only jo. The pride of a' the parishen. Yet I hae seen him on a day. With soul resolv'd. the winnin' o't. And tho' his brow be beld aboon. the Seat of Mr. Heron. by Robert Burns 655 Inscription For An Altar Of Independence At Kerroughtree. The Spinnin O't I coft a stane o' haslock woo'. the spinnin' o't. I loe him best of onie yet. nor have a slave. Virtue alone who dost revere. with soul resign'd. Prepar'd Power's proudest frown to brave. For tho' his locks be lyart grey.

&c. And swears that there they sall stan' O. Till our gudeman has gotten the scorn. The mirksome night did me enfauld. by Robert Burns 656 The Cooper O' Cuddy Tune—"Bab at the bowster. he sought them in." Chorus—We'll hide the Cooper behint the door. And cover him under a mawn. As to the north I took my way. Behint the door. deil hae him! But the body he was sae doited and blin'. We'll hide the Cooper behint the door. On ilka brow she's planted a horn. We'll hide the Cooper. I knew na where to lodge till day: By my gude luck a maid I met. We'll hide the Cooper.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. He ca'd the girrs out o'er us a'. behint the door. We'll hide the Cooper. They cooper'd at e'en. . &c. He wist na where he was gaun O. The Lass That Made The Bed To Me When Januar' wind was blawing cauld. The Cooper o' Cuddy came here awa. An' our gudewife has gotten a ca'. He sought them out. That's anger'd the silly gudeman O. they cooper'd at morn. O. &c. Wi' deil hae her! an'.

But I call'd her quickly back again. by Robert Burns Just in the middle o' my care. To lay some mair below my head: A cod she laid below my head. "And dinna sae uncivil be. O wrang na my virginitie. Gif ye hae ony luve for me. The braw lass made the bed to me. "Haud aff your hands. &c. And kindly she did me invite To walk into a chamber fair. I'll ne'er forget till the day I die.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. And. I put my arms about her neck. young man!" she said. She made the bed baith large and wide. 657 . I bow'd fu' low unto this maid. Her teeth were like the ivorie. She snatch'd the candle in her hand. The lass that made the bed to me." Chorus—The bonie lass made the bed to me. The bonie lass. She put the cup to her rosy lips. Wi' twa white hands she spread it doun. An' bade her make a bed to me. to salute her wi' a kiss. And thank'd her for her courtesie. I bow'd fu' low unto this maid. And served me with due respect. And frae my chamber went wi' speed." Her hair was like the links o' gowd. And drank—"Young man. now sleep ye soun'.

While the tear stood twinkling in her e'e. 658 . Twa drifted heaps sae fair to see. and kiss'd her syne. "Alas." I claps'd her waist.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. An' made them a' in sarks to me. The lass that made the bed to me. &c. For ye aye shall make the bed to me. And aye she wist na what to say: I laid her 'tween me and the wa'. And said. by Robert Burns Her cheeks like lilies dipt in wine. Upon the morrow when we raise. Blythe and merry may she be. But aye she blush'd and aye she sigh'd. &c. I'll ne'er forget till the day I die. my lassie. I kiss'd her o'er and o'er again. The lass that made the bed to me: The bonie lass. ye've ruin'd me. I said. The lass that made the bed to me. The braw lass made the bed to me. The lassie thocht na lang till day. I thank'd her for her courtesie. dinna cry. She took her mither's holland sheets. Her bosom was the driven snaw. The lass that made the bed to me. The bonie lass. The bonie lass. Her limbs the polish'd marble stane. Chorus—The bonie lass made the bed to me. &c.

Let him be planted in my place. had I the wyte. She watch'd me by the hie-gate side. What wife but wad excus'd her! I dighted aye her e'en sae blue. When sic a husband was frae hame. And blae and bluidy bruis'd her. An' bann'd the cruel randy. A coward loon she ca'd me: Had Kirk an' State been in the gate. glum gudeman Is o'er ayont the water. And wadna manhood been to blame.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Could I for shame refus'd her. her willin' mou . by Robert Burns 659 Had I The Wyte? She Bade Me Had I the wyte. Had I the wyte? she bade me. And bade me mak nae clatter. Sae craftilie she took me ben. And weel I wat. And when I wadna venture in. I'd lighted when she bade me. Had I unkindly used her! He claw'd her wi' the ripplin-kame. When I did kiss and dawte her. Could I for shame." Whae'er shall say I wanted grace. Syne say. could I for shame. "For our ramgunshoch. And up the loan she shaw'd me. I was the fautor.

Till. Sir: The Nith shall run to Corsincon. I lighted on the Monday. There's wooden walls upon our seas. it was I wot. Amang ourselves united. In wrangling be divided. by Robert Burns Was sweet as sugar-candie." Does haughty Gaul invasion threat? Then let the louns beware. And wi' a rung decide it! Be Britain still to Britain true. But I cam thro' the Tyseday's dew. At gloamin-shot. slap! come in an unco loun. And Criffel sink in Solway. Ere we permit a Foreign Foe On British ground to rally! We'll ne'er permit a Foreign Foe On British ground to rally! O let us not. For never but by British hands Maun British wrangs be righted! No! never but by British hands Shall British wrangs be righted! . like snarling curs. 660 Does Haughty Gaul Invasion Threat? Tune—"Push about the Jorum. And volunteers on shore. Sir. To wanton Willie's brandy.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns.

" O stay." We'll ne'er forget The People! But while we sing "God save the King. by Robert Burns The Kettle o' the Kirk and State.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. May they be damn'd together! Who will not sing "God save the King. But while we sing "God save the King. A hapless lover courts thy lay. Nor quit for me the trembling spray. fond complaining. . again that tender part. Who would set the Mob aboon the Throne. Our father's blude the Kettle bought." We'll ne'er forget The People! 661 Address To The Woodlark Tune—"Loch Erroch Side. By Heav'ns! the sacrilegious dog Shall fuel be to boil it! By Heav'ns! the sacrilegious dog Shall fuel be to boil it! The wretch that would a tyrant own. Perhaps a clout may fail in't. But deil a foreign tinkler loun Shall ever ca'a nail in't. Again. Thy soothing." Shall hang as high's the steeple. his true-born brother. And the wretch. And wha wad dare to spoil it. stay. sweet warbling woodlark.

was thy little mate unkind. and dark despair: For pity's sake. 662 Song. Sic notes o' woe could wauken! Thou tells o' never-ending care. nocht but love and sorrow join'd. long. Ev'ry dream is horror. Ev'ry fear is terror." Chorus—Long. . For surely that wad touch her heart Wha kills me wi' disdaining. Heavy comes the morrow While my soul's delight Is on her bed of sorrow. Long. While my darling Fair Is on the couch of anguish? Long. by Robert Burns That I may catch thy melting art. Ev'ry hope is fled. &c. long. And heard thee as the careless wind? Oh.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. O'speechless grief. long the night. &c. Can I cease to care? Can I cease to languish. sweet bird.—On Chloris Being Ill Tune—"Aye wauken O. Slumber ev'n I dread. nae mair! Or my poor heart is broken. Say.

" How cruel are the parents Who riches only prize. And drops beneath his feet. of escape despairing. by Robert Burns Hear me. 663 How Cruel Are The Parents Altered from an old English song. The trembling dove thus flies. And to the wealthy booby Poor Woman sacrifice! Meanwhile. Till. Powers Divine! Oh. the hapless Daughter Has but a choice of strife. But my Chloris spare me! Long. To shun impelling ruin.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Awhile her pinions tries. Tune—"John Anderson. in pity. To shun a tyrant Father's hate— Become a wretched Wife. She trusts the ruthless Falconer. my jo. The ravening hawk pursuing. long. &c. hear me! Take aught else of mine. No shelter or retreat. .

Shrinking from the gaze of day. O then. In Love's delightful fetters she chains the willing soul! Ambition would disown The world's imperial crown. But never. Mark yonder. What are the showy treasures. the heart alarming. never can come near the heart. Ev'n Avarice would deny. (four lines repeated). What are the noisy pleasures? The gay. titled bride: But when compar'd with real passion.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. by Robert Burns 664 Mark Yonder Pomp Of Costly Fashion Air—"Deil tak the wars. His worshipp'd deity. gaudy glare of vanity and art: The polish'd jewels' blaze May draw the wond'ring gaze. And feel thro' every vein Love's raptures roll. Lovely as yonder sweet opening flower is. Poor is all that princely pride. But did you see." Mark yonder pomp of costly fashion Round the wealthy. And all resistless charming. In simplicity's array. But did you see my dearest Chloris. &c. &c. And courtly grandeur bright The fancy may delight. .

But tho' fell fortune should fate us to sever." 'Twas na her bonie blue e'e was my ruin. stown glance o' kindness: 'Twas the bewitching. lightly tripping. lowly. unseen. by Robert Burns 665 'Twas Na Her Bonie Blue E'e Tune—"Laddie. Chloris. Their Groves O'Sweet Myrtle Tune—"Humours of Glen. among the wild flowers." Their groves o' sweet myrtle let Foreign Lands reckon. that was ne'er my undoin'. yellow broom. sweet. Fair tho' she be. 'Twas the bewitching. sweet. lie near me.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. . Sair do I fear that to hope is denied me. Sair do I fear that despair maun abide me. Where bright-beaming summers exalt the perfume. For there. Wi' the burn stealing under the lang. Far dearer to me yon lone glen o' green breckan. stown glance o' kindness. Far dearer to me are yon humble broom bowers Where the blue-bell and gowan lurk. I'm thine wi' a passion sincerest. Queen shall she be in my bosom for ever: Queen shall she be in my bosom for ever. 'Twas the dear smile when nae body did mind us. aft wanders my Jean. A-list'ning the linnet. And thou hast plighted me love o' the dearest! And thou'rt the angel that never can alter. Sooner the sun in his motion would falter: Sooner the sun in his motion would falter.

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
Tho' rich is the breeze in their gay, sunny valleys, And cauld Caledonia's blast on the wave; Their sweet-scented woodlands that skirt the proud palace, What are they?—the haunt of the Tyrant and Slave. The Slave's spicy forests, and gold-bubbling fountains, The brave Caledonian views wi' disdain; He wanders as free as the winds of his mountains, Save Love's willing fetters—the chains of his Jean.

666

Forlorn, My Love, No Comfort Near
Air—"Let me in this ae night." Forlorn, my Love, no comfort near, Far, far from thee, I wander here; Far, far from thee, the fate severe, At which I most repine, Love. Chorus—O wert thou, Love, but near me! But near, near, near me, How kindly thou wouldst cheer me, And mingle sighs with mine, Love. Around me scowls a wintry sky, Blasting each bud of hope and joy; And shelter, shade, nor home have I; Save in these arms of thine, Love. O wert thou, &c. Cold, alter'd friendship's cruel part, To poison Fortune's ruthless dart— Let me not break thy faithful heart, And say that fate is mine, Love.

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
O wert thou, &c. But, dreary tho' the moments fleet, O let me think we yet shall meet; That only ray of solace sweet, Can on thy Chloris shine, Love! O wert thou, &c.

667

Fragment,—Why, Why Tell The Lover
Tune—"Caledonian Hunt's delight." Why, why tell thy lover Bliss he never must enjoy"? Why, why undeceive him, And give all his hopes the lie? O why, while fancy, raptur'd slumbers, Chloris, Chloris all the theme, Why, why would'st thou, cruel— Wake thy lover from his dream?

The Braw Wooer
Tune—"The Lothian Lassie." Last May, a braw wooer cam doun the lang glen, And sair wi' his love he did deave me; I said, there was naething I hated like men— The deuce gae wi'm, to believe me, believe me; The deuce gae wi'm to believe me. He spak o' the darts in my bonie black e'en, And vow'd for my love he was diein,

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
I said, he might die when he liked for Jean— The Lord forgie me for liein, for liein; The Lord forgie me for liein! A weel-stocked mailen, himsel' for the laird, And marriage aff-hand, were his proffers; I never loot on that I kenn'd it, or car'd; But thought I might hae waur offers, waur offers; But thought I might hae waur offers. But what wad ye think?—in a fortnight or less— The deil tak his taste to gae near her! He up the Gate-slack to my black cousin, Bess— Guess ye how, the jad! I could bear her, could bear her; Guess ye how, the jad! I could bear her. But a' the niest week, as I petted wi' care, I gaed to the tryst o' Dalgarnock; But wha but my fine fickle wooer was there, I glowr'd as I'd seen a warlock, a warlock, I glowr'd as I'd seen a warlock. But owre my left shouther I gae him a blink, Lest neibours might say I was saucy; My wooer he caper'd as he'd been in drink, And vow'd I was his dear lassie, dear lassie, And vow'd I was his dear lassie. I spier'd for my cousin fu' couthy and sweet, Gin she had recover'd her hearin', And how her new shoon fit her auld schachl't feet, But heavens! how he fell a swearin, a swearin, But heavens! how he fell a swearin. He begged, for gudesake, I wad be his wife, Or else I wad kill him wi' sorrow;

668

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
So e'en to preserve the poor body in life, I think I maun wed him to-morrow, to-morrow; I think I maun wed him to-morrow.

669

This Is No My Ain Lassie
Tune—"This is no my house." Chorus—This is no my ain lassie, Fair tho, the lassie be; Weel ken I my ain lassie, Kind love is in her e're. I see a form, I see a face, Ye weel may wi' the fairest place; It wants, to me, the witching grace, The kind love that's in her e'e. This is no my ain, &c. She's bonie, blooming, straight, and tall, And lang has had my heart in thrall; And aye it charms my very saul, The kind love that's in her e'e. This is no my ain, &c. A thief sae pawkie is my Jean, To steal a blink, by a' unseen; But gleg as light are lover's een, When kind love is in her e'e. This is no my ain, &c. It may escape the courtly sparks, It may escape the learned clerks; But well the watching lover marks

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
The kind love that's in her eye. This is no my ain, &c.

670

O Bonie Was Yon Rosy Brier
O bonie was yon rosy brier, That blooms sae far frae haunt o' man; And bonie she, and ah, how dear! It shaded frae the e'enin sun. Yon rosebuds in the morning dew, How pure, amang the leaves sae green; But purer was the lover's vow They witness'd in their shade yestreen. All in its rude and prickly bower, That crimson rose, how sweet and fair; But love is far a sweeter flower, Amid life's thorny path o' care. The pathless, wild and wimpling burn, Wi' Chloris in my arms, be mine; And I the warld nor wish nor scorn, Its joys and griefs alike resign.

Song Inscribed To Alexander Cunningham
Now spring has clad the grove in green, And strew'd the lea wi' flowers; The furrow'd, waving corn is seen Rejoice in fostering showers. While ilka thing in nature join

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
Their sorrows to forego, O why thus all alone are mine The weary steps o' woe! The trout in yonder wimpling burn That glides, a silver dart, And, safe beneath the shady thorn, Defies the angler's art— My life was ance that careless stream, That wanton trout was I; But Love, wi' unrelenting beam, Has scorch'd my fountains dry. That little floweret's peaceful lot, In yonder cliff that grows, Which, save the linnet's flight, I wot, Nae ruder visit knows, Was mine, till Love has o'er me past, And blighted a' my bloom; And now, beneath the withering blast, My youth and joy consume. The waken'd lav'rock warbling springs, And climbs the early sky, Winnowing blythe his dewy wings In morning's rosy eye; As little reck'd I sorrow's power, Until the flowery snare O'witching Love, in luckless hour, Made me the thrall o' care. O had my fate been Greenland snows, Or Afric's burning zone, Wi'man and nature leagued my foes,

671

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
So Peggy ne'er I'd known! The wretch whose doom is "Hope nae mair" What tongue his woes can tell; Within whase bosom, save Despair, Nae kinder spirits dwell.

672

O That's The Lassie O' My Heart
Tune—"Morag." O wat ye wha that lo'es me And has my heart a-keeping? O sweet is she that lo'es me, As dews o' summer weeping, In tears the rosebuds steeping! Chorus—O that's the lassie o' my heart, My lassie ever dearer; O she's the queen o' womankind, And ne'er a ane to peer her. If thou shalt meet a lassie, In grace and beauty charming, That e'en thy chosen lassie, Erewhile thy breast sae warming, Had ne'er sic powers alarming; O that's the lassie, &c. If thou hadst heard her talking, And thy attention's plighted, That ilka body talking, But her, by thee is slighted, And thou art all delighted;

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
O that's the lassie, &c. If thou hast met this Fair One, When frae her thou hast parted, If every other Fair One But her, thou hast deserted, And thou art broken-hearted, O that's the lassie o' my heart, My lassie ever dearer; O that's the queen o' womankind, And ne'er a ane to peer her.

673

Inscription
Written on the blank leaf of a copy of the last edition of my poems, presented to the Lady whom, in so many fictitious reveries of passion, but with the most ardent sentiments of real friendship, I have so often sung under the name of—"Chloris."^1
'Tis Friendship's pledge, my young, fair Friend, Nor thou the gift refuse, Nor with unwilling ear attend The moralising Muse. Since thou, in all thy youth and charms, Must bid the world adieu, (A world 'gainst Peace in constant arms) To join the Friendly Few. Since, thy gay morn of life o'ercast, Chill came the tempest's lour; (And ne'er Misfortune's eastern blast Did nip a fairer flower.) Since life's gay scenes must charm no more, Still much is left behind,

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
Still nobler wealth hast thou in store— The comforts of the mind! Thine is the self-approving glow, Of conscious Honour's part; And (dearest gift of Heaven below) Thine Friendship's truest heart. The joys refin'd of Sense and Taste, With every Muse to rove: And doubly were the Poet blest, These joys could he improve. R.B. [Footnote 1: Miss Lorimer.]

674

Fragment.—Leezie Lindsay
Will ye go to the Hielands, Leezie Lindsay, Will ye go to the Hielands wi' me? Will ye go to the Hielands, Leezie Lindsay, My pride and my darling to be.

Fragment.—The Wren's Nest
The Robin to the Wren's nest Cam keekin' in, cam keekin' in; O weel's me on your auld pow, Wad ye be in, wad ye be in? Thou's ne'er get leave to lie without, And I within, and I within, Sae lang's I hae an auld clout

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
To rowe ye in, to rowe ye in.

675

News, Lassies, News
There's news, lassies, news, Gude news I've to tell! There's a boatfu' o' lads Come to our town to sell. Chorus—The wean wants a cradle, And the cradle wants a cod: I'll no gang to my bed, Until I get a nod. Father, quo' she, Mither, quo she, Do what you can, I'll no gang to my bed, Until I get a man. The wean, &c. I hae as gude a craft rig As made o'yird and stane; And waly fa' the ley-crap, For I maun till'd again. The wean, &c.

Crowdie Ever Mair
O that I had ne'er been married, I wad never had nae care, Now I've gotten wife an' weans, An' they cry "Crowdie" evermair.

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
Chorus—Ance crowdie, twice crowdie, Three times crowdie in a day Gin ye crowdie ony mair, Ye'll crowdie a' my meal away. Waefu' Want and Hunger fley me, Glowrin' by the hallan en'; Sair I fecht them at the door, But aye I'm eerie they come ben. Ance crowdie, &c.

676

Mally's Meek, Mally's Sweet
Chorus—Mally's meek, Mally's sweet, Mally's modest and discreet; Mally's rare, Mally's fair, Mally's every way complete. As I was walking up the street, A barefit maid I chanc'd to meet; But O the road was very hard For that fair maiden's tender feet. Mally's meek, &c. It were mair meet that those fine feet Were weel laced up in silken shoon; An' 'twere more fit that she should sit Within yon chariot gilt aboon, Mally's meek, &c. Her yellow hair, beyond compare, Comes trinklin down her swan-like neck, And her two eyes, like stars in skies,

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
Would keep a sinking ship frae wreck, Mally's meek, &c.

677

Jockey's Taen The Parting Kiss
Air—"Bonie lass tak a man." Jockey's taen the parting kiss, O'er the mountains he is gane, And with him is a' my bliss, Nought but griefs with me remain, Spare my Love, ye winds that blaw, Plashy sleets and beating rain! Spare my Love, thou feath'ry snaw, Drifting o'er the frozen plain! When the shades of evening creep O'er the day's fair, gladsome e'e, Sound and safely may he sleep, Sweetly blythe his waukening be. He will think on her he loves, Fondly he'll repeat her name; For where'er he distant roves, Jockey's heart is still the same.

Verses To Collector Mitchell
Friend of the Poet, tried and leal, Wha, wanting thee, might beg or steal; Alake, alake, the meikle deil Wi' a' his witches

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
Are at it skelpin jig and reel, In my poor pouches? I modestly fu' fain wad hint it, That One—pound—one, I sairly want it; If wi' the hizzie down ye sent it, It would be kind; And while my heart wi' life-blood dunted, I'd bear't in mind. So may the Auld year gang out moanin' To see the New come laden, groanin', Wi' double plenty o'er the loanin', To thee and thine: Domestic peace and comforts crownin' The hale design.

678

Postscript
Ye've heard this while how I've been lickit, And by fell Death was nearly nickit; Grim loon! he got me by the fecket, And sair me sheuk; But by gude luck I lap a wicket, And turn'd a neuk. But by that health, I've got a share o't, But by that life, I'm promis'd mair o't, My hale and wee, I'll tak a care o't, A tentier way; Then farewell folly, hide and hair o't, For ance and aye!

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns

679

1796

The Dean Of Faculty
A New Ballad Tune—"The Dragon of Wantley." Dire was the hate at old Harlaw, That Scot to Scot did carry; And dire the discord Langside saw For beauteous, hapless Mary: But Scot to Scot ne'er met so hot, Or were more in fury seen, Sir, Than 'twixt Hal and Bob for the famous job, Who should be the Faculty's Dean, Sir. This Hal for genius, wit and lore, Among the first was number'd; But pious Bob, 'mid learning's store, Commandment the tenth remember'd: Yet simple Bob the victory got, And wan his heart's desire, Which shews that heaven can boil the pot, Tho' the devil piss in the fire. Squire Hal, besides, had in this case Pretensions rather brassy; For talents, to deserve a place, Are qualifications saucy. So their worships of the Faculty,

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
Quite sick of merit's rudeness, Chose one who should owe it all, d'ye see, To their gratis grace and goodness. As once on Pisgah purg'd was the sight Of a son of Circumcision, So may be, on this Pisgah height, Bob's purblind mental vision— Nay, Bobby's mouth may be opened yet, Till for eloquence you hail him, And swear that he has the angel met That met the ass of Balaam. In your heretic sins may you live and die, Ye heretic Eight-and-Tairty! But accept, ye sublime Majority, My congratulations hearty. With your honours, as with a certain king, In your servants this is striking, The more incapacity they bring, The more they're to your liking.

680

Epistle To Colonel De Peyster
My honor'd Colonel, deep I feel Your interest in the Poet's weal; Ah! now sma' heart hae I to speel The steep Parnassus, Surrounded thus by bolus pill, And potion glasses. O what a canty world were it,

by Robert Burns Would pain and care and sickness spare it. whip! his tail ye'll ne'er cast saut on. auld Satan. Soon. 681 . tho' fiction out may trick her.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. aft bizzes by. and unsicker I've found her still. He's aff like fire. Watches like baudrons by a ratton Our sinfu' saul to get a claut on. Poor Man. and bonie lasses rare. 'Tween good and ill. as chance he comes thee nigh. heels o'er gowdie. Wi'felon ire. And Fortune favour worth and merit As they deserve. To put us daft Syne weave. thy spider snare O hell's damned waft. Aye wavering like the willow-wicker. Syne. And in paste gems and frippery deck her. And aye rowth o' roast-beef and claret. Ah Nick! ah Nick! it is na fair. the flie. unseen. Bright wines. wha wad starve? Dame Life. Then that curst carmagnole. First showing us the tempting ware. in he gangs. Oh! flickering. Syne. And aft. feeble. Thy sicker treasure. Thy damn'd auld elbow yeuks wi'joy And hellish pleasure! Already in thy fancy's eye.

like a sheep-head on a tangs. gie me the lass wi' the weel-stockit farms. And withers the faster. gie me the lass that has acres o' charms. he hangs. The nice yellow guineas for me. A gibbet's tassel. by Robert Burns And. O. Thy girning laugh enjoys his pangs. Ilk spring they're new deckit wi' bonie white yowes. &c. And murdering wrestle. dangling in the wind. But lest you think I am uncivil To plague you with this draunting drivel. Your Beauty's a flower in the morning that blows. for a lass. the faster it grows: But the rapturous charm o' the bonie green knowes. Then hey. Abjuring a' intentions evil." Awa' wi' your witchcraft o' Beauty's alarms. for a lass wi' a tocher. for a lass wi' a tocher. The slender bit Beauty you grasp in your arms. Chorus—Then hey. Then hey. Then hey. The Lord preserve us frae the devil! Amen! Amen! 682 A Lass Wi' A Tocher Tune—"Ballinamona Ora. And e'en when this Beauty your bosom hath blest .Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. As. for a lass wi' a tocher. O. I quat my pen.

quenching holy drouth. a' the wale o' lead. &c. for a lass. Here's its stuff and lining.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. IV. The Trogger. Tune—"Buy Broom Besoms. by Robert Burns The brightest o' Beauty may cloy when possess'd. Then hey. the mair they're carest. &c. Here's a reputation tint by Balmaghie. . Here's a little wadset. Here's an honest conscience might a prince adorn. &c. Buy braw troggin. Buy braw troggin. Cardoness' head. But the sweet. Broken trade o' Broughton. Here's armorial bearings frae the manse o' Urr. Buittle's scrap o' truth. Buy braw troggin. There's a noble Earl's fame and high renown. Here's the worth o' Broughton in a needle's e'e. so was never worn. No. For an auld sang—it's thought the gudes were stown— Buy braw troggin. &c. Buy braw troggin." Wha will buy my troggin. Fine for a soger. 683 Heron Election Ballad. Wha wants troggin let him come to me. Pawn'd in a gin-shop. Frae the downs o' Tinwald. yellow darlings wi' Geordie impress'd. a' in high repair? Chorus—Buy braw troggin frae the banks o' Dee. &c. The langer ye hae them. &c. fine election ware.

Pouncing poor Redcastle. a sour crab-apple. Here's the worth and wisdom Collieston can boast.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. The Menagerie Talk not to me of savages. Here's the font where Douglas stane and mortar names. rotten at the core. like a bizzard gled. &c. &c. Lovely Jessie be her name. sprawlin' like a taed. Buy braw troggin. &c. Call a toast. Thou hast given a peerless toast. Buy braw troggin. Buy braw troggin. Lately used at Caily christening Murray's crimes. . by Robert Burns The crest. a toast divine: Giveth me Poet's darling flame. Then thou mayest freely boast. &c. Here is Murray's fragments o' the ten commands. By a thievish midge they had been nearly lost. 684 Complimentary Versicles To Jessie Lewars The Toast Fill me with the rosy wine. &c. &c. Buy braw troggin. Hornie's turnin chapman—he'll buy a' the pack. Buy braw troggin. Here is Satan's picture. Gifted by black Jock to get them aff his hands. Saw ye e'er sic troggin? if to buy ye're slack. Buy braw troggin.

O lay thy loof. Yet still one seraph's left on earth. In mine. Jessie's illness Say. The natives of the sky.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. what's the charm on earth Can turn Death's dart aside! It is not purity and worth. As Jessie. He aft has wrought me meikle wae. Would be so blest a sight. A slave to Love's unbounded sway. in mine. Unless thou be my ain. No savage e'er could rend my heart. &c. by Robert Burns From Afric's burning sun. Lass Chorus—O lay thy loof in mine. On Her Recovery But rarely seen since Nature's birth. Else Jessie had not died. For Jessie did not die. thou hast done: But Jessie's lovely hand in mine. lass. lass. . 685 O Lay Thy Loof In Mine. sages. A mutual faith to plight. lass. Not even to view the heavenly choir. But now he is my deadly fae. That thou wilt be my ain. lass. And swear on thy white hand.

'Tis sweeter for thee despairing. by Robert Burns There's mony a lass has broke my rest. But why urge the tender confession. Here's a health. cruel decree?—Jessy. For ever to remain. For then I am lockt in thine arms—Jessy. &c. 'Gainst Fortune's fell. Thou art sweet as the smile when fond lovers meet. &c. Here's a health. Here's a health. I guess by the love-rolling e'e. Altho' even hope is denied. But welcome the dream o' sweet slumber. Than ought in the world beside—Jessy. gaudy day. 686 A Health To Ane I Loe Dear Chorus—Here's a health to ane I loe dear. Altho' thou maun never be mine. I guess by the dear angel smile. As hopeless I muse on thy charms. That for a blink I hae lo'ed best. Here's a health to ane I loe dear. And soft as their parting tear—Jessy. . O lay thy loof. I mourn thro' the gay. &c. But thou art Queen within my breast.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. &c.

wad be my Queen. ^1 Thine be the volumes. presented to her by Burns. Thy bield should be my bosom. With ev'ry kindliest. best presage Of future bliss. to share it a'. Or did Misfortune's bitter storms Around thee blaw. in four volumes.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Or were I in the wildest waste. I'd shelter thee. sae black and bare. in her fairest page. Wi' thee to reign. by Robert Burns 687 O Wert Thou In The Cauld Blast O wert thou in the cauld blast. The desert were a Paradise. if thou wert there. My plaidie to the angry airt. Sae black and bare. And wakeful caution. The brightest jewel in my Crown Wad be my Queen. Inscription To Miss Jessy Lewars On a copy of the Scots Musical Museum. Man's felon snare. wi' thee to reign. enroll thy name: With native worth and spotless fame. To share it a'. still aware Of ill—but chief. On yonder lea. Jessy fair. . If thou wert there. That Fate may. I'd shelter thee. And with them take the Poet's prayer. around thee blaw. Or were I Monarch o' the globe. on yonder lea.

thou fairest of the fair. . Those wonted smiles. So prays thy faithful friend. Then come. Dumfries. winding Devon. by Robert Burns All blameless joys on earth we find." Chorus—Fairest maid on Devon banks.] 688 Fairest Maid On Devon Banks Tune—'Rothiemurchie.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. all. Glossary A'. Wilt thou lay that frown aside. Nor use a faithful lover so. O let me share. Crystal Devon." Fairest maid. the Bard. No love but thine my heart shall know. And smile as thou wert wont to do? Full well thou know'st I love thee dear. [Footnote 1: Written for music played by Miss Lewars. Fairest maid. Couldst thou to malice lend an ear! O did not Love exclaim: "Forbear. &c. &c. who nursed him in his last illness. And all the treasures of the mind— These be thy guardian and reward. 1769. And by thy beauteous self I swear. June 26.

Aidle. Agley. oats. Aff. behind. Airle. off. Ae. Ablins. Aften. v. Abiegh. iron. oft. Aff-loof. oaken. by Robert Burns A-back. Airt. Ahin. off. aiblins. an old horse. Aiblins. Aith. Aiken. one. above up. foul water. own. Aff-hand. Air. Aiver. Abread. Abreed. abroad. in breadth. earnest money. Aik. oath. awry. Airn. before. Airt. Ain. away. Afore. early. Aft. Aits. behind. A-fiel. often. oak. direction. offhand. aloof. perhaps. Aboon. afield.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. at once. to direct. Aizle. 689 . a cinder.

aspread. almost.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. whiskey. Aspar. among. Asklent. Amang. ajar. and. Amaist. askew. Ane. auldfarrant. sagacious. A'thegither. alas. Aughtlins. eighteen. Atweel. Alane. Alang. Ase. ashes. at all. askance. old-fashioned. Anes. along. Ance. Aught. Anither. Athort. Asteer. athwart. Aughten. spring water. by Robert Burns A-jee. old. ones. to one side. between. beneath. An. eight. alone. Alake. Arle. Auldfarran. altogether. possessed of. another. Atween. 690 . if. Auld. shrewd. Aqua-vitae. v. once. in truth. Aqua-fontis. one. Aught. astir. Aneath. An'. airle.

awake. Awa. both. bucket. Ba'. coming back. Back-yett. Baig'nets. Backet. Bakes. Ballats. away. bony. beyond. Awauken. backways and doubled up. Edinburgh. ballads. brood. alms. Awauk. owe. asked. biscuits. at all. Ayont. Bainie. Baggie. old-world. Baith. Awnie. Awe. awaken. Bairn. Backlins-comin. bayonets. Bairntime. awkward. a ball. box. lullaby. gate at the back. Balou. stomach. swear. Bade. backed. Ban. Ava. 691 . endured. Awald. child. Baillie. Awkart. magistrate of a Scots burgh. bearded. Bade. Aumous. Backit. by Robert Burns Auld Reekie. Auld-warld.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns.

v. bawk. Bauk-en'. Bawbee. a half-penny. Bauld. bainie. by Robert Burns Ban'. Barmie. Bardie. yeasty. Bauldly. 692 . stackyard. Baudrons. Bauk. Bauk. yeast. barley-brew-ale or whiskey. Bashing. Batch. barked. cross-beam. Bawk. to thump. barefooted. boldly. Barm. Bauckie-bird. Barn-yard. the cat. Banie. Bang. a number. Barley-brie. boldest. Bartie. bold. a blow. Barefit. Bawdrons. Bang. Barket. bone. the colic. Baudrans. a field path. a thick oatmeal cake. the botts. balmy. beam-end. Batts. Bannet. Baumy. abashing. bonnock. band (of the Presbyterian clergyman).Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. baudrons. v. bonnet. dim. Bane. of bard. the bat. a large number. or bree. v. Bannock. an effort. the Devil. Bauldest.

v. a wooden cup. biel. Beck.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Belyve. barley. Biel. beasts. comfortable. to wish. belong. to flow swiftly and with a slight noise. a curtsy. to offer. bellows. endure. Bethankit. a shelter. Bicker. Bien. Be-south. dim. into the parlor. a sheltered spot. Beild. of beast. 693 . Big. noisy contention. Bide. abide. Bickering. vermin. a short run. Bellys. hurrying.. grace after meat. by Robert Burns Baws'nt. Beastie. bield. Beet. Bickerin. Beas'. bienly. white-streaked. Be-north. to the southward of. a parlor (i. Beuk. comfortable. inmost. kindle. to ask. Bicker. bald. Bellum. assault.e. by and by. Bid. a book: devil's pictur'd beuks-playing-cards. Biel. to build. Benmost. to the northward of. Belang. Beld. comfortably. the inner apartment). Bicker. Ben. feed. Bien. Bear.

Billie. completely drunk. Blate. a flurry. Bizzard. small (e.. the buzzard. Bike. the birch. Blae. blasted. blue. v. Bings. buzz. brother. damned) creature. the Presbyterian elder. a large quantity.e. Bizzie. busy. a little wretch.. Birr. bit lassie). Blaud. birchen. Blastet. byke.g. pelt. also maidens. bashful. Birkie. Black-bonnet. Blaud. nick of time. Bit. a blasted (i. v. whirring. modest.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Birken. black-beaked. blaud. heaps. vigor. Bit. of bird. Birring. bristles. Birses. Bill. bladder. Bizz. dim. by Robert Burns Biggin. berth. to slap. Blastie. blastit. Bitch-fou. Birdie. a fellow. livid. Birk. 694 . force. Blad. building. comrade. Birth. Blather. the bull. Black-nebbit. Bizz. fellow.

blow. Blinkin. a babbler. Bocked. the livery of the licensed beggar. Blin'. blind. Blink. Blether. to glance. Boddle. blood. to brag. Body. smirking. Blypes. blethers. Blin't. nonsense. bleared. Bletherin'. Blink. look for. Bleeze. Blaw. shreds. blown. Blawn. 695 .Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. vomited. curtsied. a farthing. Bluntie. to blear. Blether. tailor's needle. Bleer't. spies. bloody. Blinkers. a person. a railer. talking nonsense. Blume. Bobbed. to bloom. blaze. to talk nonsense. Bodkin. Bleer. a blusterer. blowing. blinded. Blawing. oglers. to shine. by Robert Burns Blaw. Bluid. the snipe. Blitter. bodie. a moment. Blellum. a stupid. leering. Bluidy. Bode. a glance. Blue-gown.

Brak. a wooden curb. Braik. a bogie. a hole. v. an angry tumor. plunged. or small recess in the wall. Boost. Bountith. Bannock. board. Braing't. board-end. ferns. by Robert Burns Boggie. bounty. Brachens. Bogle. Bouk. 'Boon. a human trunk. Brak's. 'Bout. beautiful. prettily. Bow-kail. gay. a hobgoblin. broad. elders. Braid. bulk. broke. Branks. Bonilie. Brae. the slope of a hill. broke his. about.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. of bog. Boord. Boortress. Broad-claith. recess. Boord-en'. Bore. broad-cloth. surface. bonnie. payment to the bargain. bandy-thighed. Bonie. fine. Bonnock. Brankie. a chink. 696 . bent. Boot. Botch. a harrow. cabbage. Bole. pretty. must needs. Bow't. Bow-hough'd. above. dim. a bridle.

Brie. brandy. short attack.. Brattle. v. Brief. writ. sprang forward. perfectly. Brogue. Browster wives. Breeks. Brattle. brand. heartily. breast. small pieces. Brier. a scamper. ferns. Breer.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. a thick mixture of meal and warm water. not sloping from baldness). Brash. small children. Brugh. Brig. brother. Breastit. finely.e. Breastie. Broo. a burgh. a badger. rags. Brock. Braw. gaily dressed. dim. brier. also a synonym for porridge. Brose. briar. steep (i. Brats. breeches. Brisket. Brent. Braxies. 697 . soup. fine. handsome. bridge. Brechan. sheep that have died of braxie (a disease). by Robert Burns Bran'y. Brent. barley-brie. straight. noisy onset. a trick. ale wives. wedding races from the church to the home of the bride. Brats. Brooses. liquid in which anything is cooked. water. Brither. Brawlie. of breast. broth.

bustle. Bum. to dress up. Bummle. By. burn the wind). a curl. beetle. Buckie. Budget. of bird or burd (a lady). Burr-thistle. Brunt. Junebug. But. dim. the blacksmith (i. brimstone. to dress. a bush. a smart younker. Bussle. beside. negroes. burst. of burn. Burnie. Bure.. folding. harlots. to hum. By. Bunters. dim. a seat. cockchafer. Brunstane. a useless fellow. a rivulet. to garb. to thump. Bum. stalwart.e. bore. burned. a rivulet. of buck. butt. spear-thistle. dim. a drone. Virginian: the buckskin kye. Buckskin. past.e. in the kitchen (i. Burn. to bang.. But. a brawl. Bunker. the buttocks. the outer apartment). Busk. 698 . Bum-clock. by Robert Burns Brulzie. Burdies. Burnewin. aside. Buss. Buirdly. without. Buckle.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. maidens. Brust. Buff. brulyie. tinker's bag of tools. Bughtin. to adorn.

699 . Care na by. magic. came. Byre. Calf-ward. male-hemp. an old man. Byke. callant.. a crowd. caddie. careful. tractable. grazing plot for calves (i. a cow-house. Caird. cautiously. Caff. knock. beside and at a distance. Cants. a hawker (especially of fish).e. can not. Cape-stanc. by and attour). Carl-hemp.e. Cam.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. churchyard). prudent. prudently. merry stories. cool. a man. a witch. a manikin. by Robert Burns By himsel. Carmagnole. a trull. Callet. jolly. a tinker. Cadie. Carlie. merry. Cadger. Caller. woman. quietly. a fellow. gentle. Bye attour (i. lively. Ca'. a stripling. Carl. chaff. drive. cannily. Canna. Canniest. Canie. cheerful. do not care. carle. a beldam. call. canters or sprees or merry doings. a swarm. Carlin. quietest. witching. Cankrie. Cannilie. Cantie. a hive. Cantraip. cannie. refreshing. Callan. beside himself.. carline a middle-aged. copestone. Capon-castrate. a bees' nest. or old. crabbed. quiet. a violent Jacobin.

child). squeak. cheek-by-jowl (i. the hunt for money. the pipe of the bag-pipes which produces the melody. Cheep. Chearfu'. Cauf-leather. cold. Cheek-for-chow. a fellow. a young fellow. Chanter. Catch-the-plack. Cauldron. calf-leather.. of cart. close beside). chews. by Robert Burns Cartes. Caup. chamber. a young fellow. Caudron. Chapman. a fellow. chalk. Chiel. Chimla.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. cheer. Cavie. causeway-cleaners. tavern. cheery. chimney. cheerful. to strike. 700 . Cartie. a hen-coop. dim. chield (i. a stroke. Causey-cleaners. Chaup. calf. caldron. Cauf. Chearless. a blow. song. peep. Chows. Chap. chap. Cheary. Chamer. playing-cards. Chittering. a wooden drinking vessel. e. chaumer. a caldron. cheerless. Change-house. shivering. a pedler. Cauk.e. Chear. Chap. bagpipes. Cauld.

cloth. Claut. Clash. seized. fat-faced. Clark. wrote. Clatter. clerkly. but usually signifies mother hen. a clerk. Claeding. Claught. to scratch. Clachan. gossip. of chuck. disputation. gossip. babble. Claith. clutched. Clavers. Clarty. clothing. nonsense. clothes. Clash. to tattle. clutching. . the civet. dirty. clover. Chuffie. Claughtin. scholarly. a blow. a citizen. claise. noise. Claes. a dear. Claut. a severe knock. a clutch. a merchant. Clay-cauld. by Robert Burns Chuck. Cit. Clark. to babble. Clap. Clarkit. Claw. talk. to strike. Clankie. to scrape. to make a noise by striking. dim. Claithing. Claw. to prattle. tattle. the clapper of a mill. an old dear. grasping. clay-cold. clothing. to choose. Cit. a hen. 701 Chuckie. Chuse. Clatter. Claver. an idle tale. clerked. a handful. a small village about a church.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. a scratch.

e. Cleek. Cock. hatching-) time. Clout. a sharp stroke. the bellman. shears. a broad and flat boat. to chink. cloots. a cloth. to make a hollow sound. a patch. 702 . the mark (in curling). Cog. Cleekit. coin. non-sense. Cleed. Clunk. to snatch. Coft. Clink. Clockin-time. Clud. the hoof. linked arms. Clootie. to clothe. Clinkum. taletelling. a bump or swelling after a blow. Cleckin. good fellows. Cloot. Cod. Clinkin. a two-handed Highland sword. Clink. bought.(i. gossip. gadfly. of cock (applied to an old man). Clish-ma-claver. fellows. a brood. Clink. to rhyme. hoofie. Clips. Clour. a porridge dish. a cloud. jingle. Cockie..Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. money. hoofs (a nickname of the Devil). Clink. clinkumbell. Clout. Cleg. Coble. clucking. a corn measure for horses. a pillow. by Robert Burns Claymore. with a smart motion. the beadle. to patch. dim. Cocks. a wooden drinking vessel.

dim. Cowe. Kyle (one of the ancient districts of Ayrshire). a little dish. couldna. 703 . Cowe. talk. leg-plumed. loving. to chat. Craig. Coup. Corbies. of cog. Coor. the throat. Collieshangie. a stallion. Cootie. cosy. to scare. Cood. looped. Couthie. cuif.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Cooser. Crack. hid. Craig. Cou'dna. to talk. Corn't. chucked. Craft. corps. comfortable. Corn mou. cud. croft. a courser. Countra. Coost (i. v. threw off. cast). Corse. affable. by Robert Burns Coggie. cross.. Coil. dim. Coof. Core. to capsize. couthy. Crack. crows. to daunt. ravens. a small pail. Craigie. Coila. a crag. cover. a chat. of craig. couldn't. Craft-rig. tale. croft-ridge. corn heap. e. fed with corn. a squabble. to lop. Cootie. the throat. country. Cookit. Corss. corpse. tossed.

the corn-crake. a blow. cocksure. Croon. Crap. Crocks. crawling. Crouchie. Cran. Crambo-jingle. Crummie. Crump. Crooning. Crowlin. the support for a pot or kettle. Creel. Crousely. moan. e. craggy. top. hunchbacked. set. Creepie-chair. Crummock. Cranreuch. meal and cold water. crow. stool of repentance. Cronie. 704 . a cudgel. Crowdie. porridge.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. rhyming. Crambo-clink. hoar-frost. greasy. fretful. a horned cow. Croods. Cranks. intimate friend. breakfast-time). an osier basket. cummock. Creeshie. cooed. crouse. Crankous. Crunt. Croose. crisp. rhyme. the land-rail. coos. cheerful. proud. confidently. Croon. Craik. humming. porridge-time (i. a crooked staff. meal and milk. Craw. low. by Robert Burns Craigy. crop. creakings. to toll.. old ewes. Crooded. Crowdie-time.

Dang. dazed. Damie. dare not. a ninny. saunter.. a kerchief for the head. mad. Curple. Cutes. Daud. Daunder. e. Cuif. Curmurring. father. the crupper of a horse. Curch. a curtsy. Daud. Daez't. of ding. 705 . the wood pigeon. Dad. fun. to pelt. Curpin. by Robert Burns Cuddle. Cutty. coof. Daft. the crupper (i. daunton. Darg. crummock. planks. foolish. Daffin. a dolt. an odd ear of corn. v. a day's work. Daimen icker. a large piece. feet. commotion. short. in the dark. pent-up water.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Curchie. urine. Curler. the pith of the colewort. stools of repentance. Darena. v. dim. one who plays at curling. Danton. a dastard. Dam. Darklins. larking. Cushat. of dame. Dails. to fondle. ankles. Custock. daddie. pret. buttocks). Cutty-stools. Cummock. task. labor.

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Dead-sweer. Dawds. dizzen. sifted. Deil-haet. trim. digging. Dight. Din. delirious. to ring. Daurna. dozen. Devel. Devil may care. Daur't. Dirl. a stunning blow. Deleeret. by Robert Burns Daunton. muddy of complexion. Dawtingly. Delvin. mad. to beat. to wipe. duck. 706 . caressingly. dare. to deafen. Dink. Deuk. Daviely. to vibrate. Deil. Descrive. to surpass. Diddle. death. Dight. lumps. to describe. Dead. winnowed. Daw. Deave. Daut. dun. spiritless. prettily. Daur. to fondle. dared. Diz'n. to dawn. dare not. hid. extremely reluctant. dawte. to daunt. do not. Ding. nothing (Devil have it). Deil-ma-care. Dern'd. devil. to move quickly. Dinna.

dandled. Donsie. cutting. vicious. suffer. Doup-skelper. the bottom. Drap. doucely.. Dowilie. could. sedately. can not. stupefied. wo. torpid. testy. can. Dowf. Doylt. dull. Doup. sober. bad-tempered. daughter. prudently. ducked. Dowie. obstinate. stubborn. Dought (pret. dowff. doting. doleful. dousely. bottom-smacker.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. tedious. Dool. Downa. Dozin. Doolfu'. a dove. Dour-doure. draggled. lack of power. Dow. prudent. by Robert Burns Dochter. stupid. woful. Draunting. drop. Douce. Draigl't. prosing. drooping. dowe. Douce. Doudl'd. bewildered. sedate. Downa-do (can not do). muddled. doddering. am (is or are) able. pettish. drooping. Doited. Douked. Dree. restive. mournful. stupid. sorrow. Dow. endure. Dozen'd. torpid. 707 . Dorty. Drant. of dow). douse. Doytin.

turbid. the huff. Dung. rags. drizzle. dim. Duds. pushed or thrown down violently. thirst. to toddle. Driddle. Drouk. wetted. beat. raw meal and cold water. Druken. Dwalt. Drumlie. dull. dang. short-rumped. Drone. clothes. of duds. Dunted. Duddies.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. early. thirsty. tedious. Droddum. slush. 708 . Ear'. Drunt. Drouth. a bankrupt. by Robert Burns Dreigh. the breech. Droukit. a fence (of stone or turf). dwelling. to drench. Drummock. drunken. Dribble. throbbed. puddle. Droop-rumpl't. drucken. Drouthy. Dyke. v. dirk. Durk. thirsty. Dusht. Dub. a wall. Dyvor. rags. v. dwelt. dreight. Dunts. muddy. blows. Duddie. ragged. Dry. Dreigh. Dwalling. to wet. part of the bagpipe.

Fa'. even. Fa'. eye. adder-stone. Ether-stane. claim. evening. elder. 709 . Ev'n down. elected. eld. Enow. Eneugh. E'e. Eydent. E'er. E'en. to get. Erse. enough. ever. E'en. evening. Eldritch. Fa'. Eerie. Enfauld. eagle. E'enin'. Gaelic. Eller. portion. thirty-seven inches. by Robert Burns Earn. lot. haunted. Elekit. diligent. eyebrow. eyes. aim. eastern. evermore. Ettle. enough. inspiring ghostly fear. Eild. fearsome. elbow. unearthly. Evermair. Ell (Scots). fall. En'. downright. Eastlin. Eke.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. infold. also. Een. positive. Elbuck. E'ebrie. suit. end. apprehensive.

by Robert Burns Faddom'd. Faulding. Faut. Fash. good befall! welcome. to trouble. Fair fa'. Feat. fallen. Fauld. a present from a fair. Fain. found. fight. a fight. Faiket. Farls. Fause. irked. far-off. fellow. excused. Fa'n. Fash. hole in a cornstack. Fand. Fash'd. spruce. annoyance. foam. fallen. let off. fault. the sheep-fold. Fainness. folded. Fasten's Even (the evening before Lent). transgressor.. fathomed. Faught. Far-aff. Fecht. fash't. 710 . fond. troublesome. foe. Fawsont. Fasten-e'en. well-doing. glad. seemly. oat-cakes. Fauld. good-looking.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. false. Fashious. Faun. Fallow. Fae. Faem. sheep-folding. fondness. Fause-house. bothered. worry. Fairin. Fautor.

stopped suddenly. v. Feckly. feud. lusty. to wriggle. Fen'. Fidgin-fain. gurgles. by Robert Burns Feck. Feint. a fig. Fetches. fiend.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. the cuticle under the skin. well. Fey. Feirrie. Fenceless. Fient-ma-care. the most part. Feck. Fiel. Fient. Fell. the bulk. to marvel. to fidget. nothing (fiend have it). not one of. Ferlie. mostly. pithless. sleeve waistcoat (used by farm-servants as both vest and jacket). dreadful. tingling-wild. Fecket. fend. a petty oath. fient. defenseless. waistcoat. return. Fegs. deadly. 711 . Fient haet. Fen'. a wonder. devil a. weak. catches. feeble. keep off. Fidge. Fient haet o'. not a. Feckless. Ferlie. relentless. value. the fiend may care (I don't!). a shift. cruel. pungent. Felly. to care for. to look after. Fell. Feg. faith! Feide. ferly. Fetch't. Fient a. fated to death. keen.

flapping. Flewit. 712 Flingin-tree. Flang. Fin'. Flainin. focks. Flee. jerk. fretted. fluttering. sound. Fley. fidget with delight. Fissle. shreds. folk. dumpy. a flail. Fleesh. a piece of timber hung by way of partition between two horses in a stable. fiere. the near horse of the hind-most pair in the plough. wheedle. to find. Flaffin. Flinders. Flittering.. foot. a sharp lash. capered. Fit. to shift. tingle. Fleg. Fleech. Flichterin. fared (i. e.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Flinging. active. flattering. Flae. flung. Fleth'rin. Fier. to fly. Fittie-lan'. flannel. Foor. by Robert Burns Fier. flannen. fluttering. scold. kicking out in dancing. Fodgel. companion. Flit. capering. Fock. Flyte. broken pieces. went). to scare. fleece. . Fliskit. a flea. blow. scare.

Furm. jaded. fodder. Forrit. the hindmost plough-horse in the furrow. sapless. a quartet. hostile. pithless. from. besides. Freath. Furder. Forfairn. Foumart. forebears. by Robert Burns Foorsday. troubled. fou. Fuff't. forlorn. Fur. worn out. Fu'. Frae. Thursday. abundance. Fou. tasteless. exhausted. e. Foughten. to froth. full (i. Fremit. estranged.. to succeed. Forgie. a furrow.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. a bushel. Fow. to meet with. forbye. Furder. to forgive. Forby. full. v. forefathers. Forjesket. Forbears. a short tail (of a rabbit or hare). a polecat. puffed. Fow. fow. Fouth. Fur-ahin. furr. full-handed. Fud. a wooden form. fulness. 713 . Fother. Forfoughten. forward. Fusionless. Fu'-han't. Forgather. drunk). Foursome. success.

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
Fyke, fret. Fyke, to fuss; fidget. Fyle, to defile, to foul. Gab, the mouth. Gab, to talk. Gabs, talk. Gae, gave. Gae, to go. Gaed, went. Gaen, gone. Gaets, ways, manners. Gairs, gores. Gane, gone. Gang, to go. Gangrel, vagrant. Gar, to cause, to make, to compel. Garcock, the moorcock. Garten, garter. Gash, wise; self-complacent (implying prudence and prosperity); talkative. Gashing, talking, gabbing. Gat, got. Gate, way-road, manner. Gatty, enervated. Gaucie, v. Gawsie. Gaud, a. goad. Gaudsman, goadsman, driver of the plough-team. Gau'n. gavin. Gaun, going. Gaunted, gaped, yawned.

714

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
Gawky, a foolish woman or lad. Gawky, foolish. Gawsie, buxom; jolly. Gaylies, gaily, rather. Gear, money, wealth; goods; stuff. Geck, to sport; toss the head. Ged. a pike. Gentles, gentry. Genty, trim and elegant. Geordie, dim. of George, a guinea. Get, issue, offspring, breed. Ghaist, ghost. Gie, to give. Gied, gave. Gien, given. Gif, if. Giftie, dim. of gift. Giglets, giggling youngsters or maids. Gillie, dim. of gill (glass of whiskey). Gilpey, young girl. Gimmer, a young ewe. Gin, if, should, whether; by. Girdle, plate of metal for firing cakes, bannocks. Girn, to grin, to twist the face (but from pain or rage, not joy); gapes; snarls. Gizz, wig. Glaikit, foolish, thoughtless, giddy. Glaizie, glossy, shiny. Glaum'd, grasped.

715

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
Gled, a hawk, a kite. Gleede, a glowing coal. Gleg, nimble, sharp, keen-witted. Gleg, smartly. Glieb, a portion of land. Glib-gabbet, smooth-tongued. Glint, sparkle. Gloamin, twilight; gloamin-shot, sunset. Glow'r, stare. Glunch, frown, growl. Goavin, looking dazedlyl; mooning. Gotten, got. Gowan, the wild, or mountain, daisy. Gowany, covered with wild daisies. Gowd, gold. Gowdie, the head. Gowff'd, struck, as in the game of golf. Gowk, the cuckoo, a dolt. Gowling, lamenting (as a dog in grief). Graff, a grave, a vault. Grain'd, groaned. Graip, a dung-fork. Graith, implements, gear; furniture; attire. Graithing, gearing, vestments. Grane, groan. Grannie, graunie, grandmother. Grape, grope. Grat, wept. Gree, the prize (degree). Gree, to agree.

716

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
Greet, to weep. Groanin maut, groaning malt, brewed for a lying-in. Grozet, a gooseberry. Grumphie, the pig. Grun', the ground. Gruntle, the face. Gruntle, dim. of grunt. Grunzie, growing. Grutten, wept. Gude, God. Guid, gude, good. Guid-e'en, good evening. Guid-father, father-in-law. Guid-man, husband. Guid-wife. mistress of the house. Guid-willie, hearty, full of good-will. Gullie, gully, a large knife. Gulravage, riotous play. Gumlie, muddy. Gumption, wisdom. Gusty, tasty. Gutcher, goodsire, grandfather. Ha', hall. Ha' folk, the servants. Haddin, holding, inheritance. Hae, have. Haet, a thing. Haffet, hauffet, the temple, the side of the head. Haffets, side-locks. Hafflins, half, partly.

717

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
Hag, a moss, a broken bog. Haggis, a special Scots pudding, made of sheep's lungs, liver and heart, onions and oatmeal, boiled in a sheep's stomach. Hain, to spare, to save. Hairst, har'st, harvest. Haith, faith (an oath). Haivers, v. havers. Hal', hald, holding, possession. Hale, hail, the whole. Hale, health. Hale, hail, whole, healthy. Halesome, wholesome. Hallan, a partition wall, a porch, outer door. Halloween, All Saints' Eve (31st of October). Hallowmas, All Saints' Day (1st of November). Haly, holy. Hame, home, Han', haun, hand. Han-darg, v. darg. Hand-wal'd, hand-picked (i.e., choicest). Hangie, hangman (nickname of the Devil). Hansel, the first gift; earnest. Hap, a wrap, a covering against cold. Hap, to shelter. Hap, to hop. Happer, hopper (of a mill). Hap-step-an'-lowp. hop-step-and-jump. Harkit, hearkened. Harn, coarse cloth.

718

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
Hash, an oaf. Haslock woo, the wool on the neck of a sheep. Haud, to hold, to keep. Hauf, half. Haughs, low-lying rich lands by a river. Haun, v. han', Haurl, to trail. Hause, cuddle, embrace. Haveril, hav'rel, one who talks nonsense. Havers, nonsense. Havins, manners, conduct. Hawkie, a white-faced cow; a cow. Heal, v. hale. Healsome, v. halesome. Hecht, to promise; threaten. Heckle, a flax-comb. Heels-o'er-gowdie, v. gowdie. Heeze, to hoist. Heich, heigh, high. Hem-shin'd, crooked-shin'd. Herd, a herd-boy. Here awa, hereabout. Herry, to harry. Herryment, spoliation. Hersel, herself. Het, hot. Heugh, a hollow or pit; a crag, a steep bank. Heuk, a hook. Hilch, to hobble. Hiltie-skiltie, helter-skelter.

719

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
Himsel, himselfk Hiney, hinny, honey. Hing, to hang. Hirple, to move unevenly; to limp. Hissels, so many cattle as one person can attend (R. B.). Histie, bare. Hizzie, a hussy, a wench. Hoast, cough. Hoddin, the motion of a sage countryman riding on a cart-horse (R. B.). Hoddin-grey, coarse gray woolen. Hoggie, dim. of hog; a lamb. Hog-score, a line on the curling rink. Hog-shouther, a kind of horse-play by jostling with the shoulder; to jostle. Hoodie-craw, the hooded crow, the carrion crow. Hoodock, grasping, vulturish. Hooked, caught. Hool, the outer case, the sheath. Hoolie, softly. Hoord, hoard. Hoordet, hoarded. Horn, a horn spoon; a comb of horn. Hornie, the Devil. Host, v. hoast. Hotch'd, jerked. Houghmagandie, fornication. Houlet, v. howlet. Houpe, hope. Hove, swell.

720

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
Howdie, howdy, a midwife. Howe, hollow. Howk, to dig. Howlet, the owl. Hoyse, a hoist. Hoy't, urged (R. B.). Hoyte, to amble crazily (R. B.). Hughoc, dim. of Hugh. Hullions, slovens. Hunder, a hundred. Hunkers, hams. Hurcheon, the hedgehog. Hurchin, urchin. Hurdies, the loins, the crupper (R. B.) (i. e., the buttocks). Hurl, to trundle. Hushion, a footless stocking. Hyte, furious. I', in. Icker, an ear of corn. Ier-oe, a great-grandchild. Ilk, ilka, each, every. Ill o't, bad at it. Ill-taen, ill-taken. Ill-thief. the Devil. Ill-willie, ill-natured, niggardly. Indentin, indenturing. Ingine, genius, ingenuity; wit. Ingle, the fire, the fireside. Ingle-cheek, fireside (properly the jamb of the fireplace). Ingle-lowe, ingle-low, flame of the fire.

721

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
I'se, I shall, or will. Itsel', itself. Ither, other, another. Jad, a jade. Janwar, January. Jauk, to trifle, to dally. Jauner, gabber. Jauntie, dim. of jaunt. Jaup, splash. Jaw, talk, impudence. Jaw, to throw, to dash. Jeeg, to jog. Jillet, a jilt. Jimp, small, slender. Jimply, neatly. Jimps, stays. Jink, the slip. Jink, to frisk, to sport, to dodge. Jinker, dodger (coquette); a jinker noble; a noble goer. Jirkinet, bodice. Jirt, a jerk. Jiz, a wig. Jo, a sweetheart. Jocteleg, a clasp-knife. Jouk, to duck, to cover, to dodge. Jow, to jow, a verb which included both the swinging motion and pealing sound of a large bell (R. B.). Jumpet, jumpit, jumped. Jundie, to jostle.

722

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
Jurr, a servant wench. Kae, a jackdaw. Kail, kale, the colewort; cabbage; Scots' broth. Kail-blade, the leaf of the colewort. Kail-gullie, a cabbage knife. Kail-runt, the stem of the colewort. Kail-whittle, a cabbage knife. Kail-yard, a kitchen garden. Kain, kane, rents in kind. Kame, a comb. Kebars, rafters. Kebbuck, a cheese; a kebbuck heel = the last crust of a cheese. Keckle, to cackle, to giggle. Keek, look, glance. Keekin-glass, the looking-glass. Keel, red chalk. Kelpies, river demons. Ken, to know. Kenna, know not. Kennin, a very little (merely as much as can be perceived). Kep, to catch. Ket, the fleece on a sheep's body. Key, quay. Kiaugh, anxiety. Kilt, to tuck up. Kimmer, a wench, a gossip; a wife. Kin', kind.

723

King's-hood, the 2d stomach in a ruminant (equivocal for the scrotum). Kintra, country. Kirk, church.

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
Kirn, a churn. Kirn, harvest home. Kirsen, to christen. Kist, chest, counter. Kitchen, to relish. Kittle, difficult, ticklish, delicate, fickle. Kittle, to tickle. Kittlin, kitten. Kiutlin, cuddling. Knaggie, knobby. Knappin-hammers, hammers for breaking stones. Knowe, knoll. Knurl, knurlin, dwarf. Kye, cows. Kytes, bellies. Kythe, to show. Laddie, dim. of lad. Lade, a load. Lag, backward. Laggen, the bottom angle of a wooden dish. Laigh, low. Laik, lack. Lair, lore, learning. Laird, landowner. Lairing, sticking or sinking in moss or mud. Laith, loath. Laithfu', loathful, sheepish. Lallan, lowland. Lallans, Scots Lowland vernacular. Lammie, dim. of lamb.

724

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
Lan', land. Lan'-afore, the foremost horse on the unplowed land side. Lan'-ahin, the hindmost horse on the unplowed land side. Lane, lone. Lang, long. Lang syne, long since, long ago. Lap, leapt. Lave, the rest. Laverock, lav'rock, the lark. Lawin, the reckoning. Lea, grass, untilled land. Lear, lore, learning. Leddy, lady. Lee-lang, live-long. Leesome, lawful. Leeze me on, dear is to me; blessings on; commend me to. Leister, a fish-spear. Len', to lend. Leugh, laugh'd. Leuk, look. Ley-crap, lea-crop. Libbet, castrated. Licks, a beating. Lien, lain. Lieve, lief. Lift, the sky. Lift, a load. Lightly, to disparage, to scorn. Lilt, to sing. Limmer, to jade; mistress.

725

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
Lin, v. linn. Linn, a waterfall. Lint, flax. Lint-white, flax-colored. Lintwhite, the linnet. Lippen'd, trusted. Lippie, dim. of lip. Loan, a lane, Loanin, the private road leading to a farm. Lo'ed, loved. Lon'on, London. Loof (pl. looves), the palm of the hand. Loon, loun, lown, a fellow, a varlet. Loosome, lovable. Loot, let. Loove, love. Looves, v. loof. Losh, a minced oath. Lough, a pond, a lake. Loup, lowp, to leap. Low, lowe, a flame. Lowin, lowing, flaming, burning. Lown, v. loon. Lowp, v. loup. Lowse, louse, to untie, let loose. Lucky, a grandmother, an old woman; an ale wife. Lug, the ear. Lugget, having ears. Luggie, a porringer. Lum, the chimney.

726

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
Lume, a loom. Lunardi, a balloon bonnet. Lunches, full portions. Lunt, a column of smoke or steam. Luntin, smoking. Luve, love. Lyart, gray in general; discolored by decay or old age. Lynin, lining. Mae, more. Mailen, mailin, a farm. Mailie, Molly. Mair, more. Maist. most. Maist, almost. Mak, make. Mak o', make o', to pet, to fondle. Mall, Mally. Manteele, a mantle. Mark, merk, an old Scots coin (13 1-3d. sterling). Mashlum, of mixed meal. Maskin-pat, the teapot. Maukin, a hare. Maun, must. Maunna, mustn't. Maut, malt. Mavis, the thrush. Mawin, mowing. Mawn, mown. Mawn, a large basket. Mear, a mare.

727

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, by Robert Burns
Meikle, mickle, muckle, much, great. Melder, a grinding corn. Mell, to meddle. Melvie, to powder with meal-dust. Men', mend. Mense, tact, discretion, politeness. Menseless, unmannerly. Merle, the blackbird. Merran, Marian. Mess John, Mass John, the parish priest, the minister. Messin, a cur, a mongrel. Midden, a dunghill. Midden-creels, manure-baskets. Midden dub, midden puddle. Midden-hole, a gutter at the bottom of the dunghill. Milking shiel, the milking shed. Mim, prim, affectedly meek. Mim-mou'd, prim-lipped. Min', mind, remembrance. Mind, to remember, to bear in mind. Minnie, mother. Mirk, dark. Misca', to miscall, to abuse. Mishanter, mishap. Mislear'd, mischievous, unmannerly. Mistak, mistake. Misteuk, mistook. Mither, mother. Mixtie-maxtie, confused. Monie, many.

728

newly driven. Naething. next. Nickie-ben. a nag. Na. neighbor. to nail. exchange. Neebor. abuse. Nocht. Nick (Auld). Nick. New-ca'd. cuts. fistful. nothing. no. none. nothing. an English pint. Natch. to slit. v. Needna. a name of the Devil. to keep close company. 729 . the mouth. Muslin-kail. a notching implement. Nickie-ben. neibor. v. Muckle. the fist. Niffer. Nick-nackets. Mou'. by Robert Burns Mools. Nit. not. to nibble. Nieve-fu'.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. needn't. to seize away. ale. a corner. naithing. Moop. newk. a nut. to meddle. Mutchkin. Naig. Neuk. Nicks. Nieve. Nick. dusty. a nook. crumbling earth. the rings on a cow's horns. nae. No. not. Nappy. meikle. Moudieworts. Neist. curiosities. liquor. Mottie. beefless broth. Nane. grave. to sever. moles.

confidential. Parritch. Pang. pawkie. pettle. Paitrick. a partridge. cattle. to wade. Parishen. Pack an' thick. put. Owre. before. drooping. the refrain. oxen. Orra. haughty. pauky. Painch. nail-bag. sly. Paughty. Pat. to cram. ere. a plow-staff. too. Owthor. O't. Paidle. Pattle. used equivocally of a wanton girl. Outler. at all. Pat. Parritch-pats. extra. over.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. author. Ourie. Onie. O'. 730 . artful. Ought. unhoused. Owsen. by Robert Burns Norland. Oughtlins. catchword. the parish. Or. Paidle. Paukie. porridge-pots. aught. nowte. northern. aught in the least. any. O'erword. to paddle. pot. of. Oxter'd. to walk with a weak action. held up under the arms. Nowt. shivering. aughtlins. of it. the paunch. porridge.

small beer. the Highlander's kilt. Placads. Plaiden. Plaister. poverty. to seize. Plackless. Philibeg. plew. Phraisin. v. plaster. panting. to pull. three imperial pints. Poortith. Pock. Pettle. blowing. a trick. Penny-fee. powther. powder. Plenish'd. pocket. Pit. to wheedle. penniless. Pickle. Pechin. pulpit. wage in money. Poussie. a plover. by Robert Burns Pechan. Pouch. Pliver. Pou. a plow. flattering. a few. Plack. to poke. to impound. stocked. four pennies (Scots). Pouk. a poke. pattle. 731 . coarse woolen cloth. the stomach. Pleugh. Phrase. Pint (Scots). put. wheedling. Poupit. a bag. a wallet. to flatter. Penny-wheep. a little. a push.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Poind. to distrain. proclamations. Pouse. Pliskie. a hare (also a cat). Pouther.

Primsie. grains. Pow. quod. a rope. a pin. quietly. Prent. to taste. dim. by Robert Burns Pouts. Pree'd. Quey. a young cow. quit. a lass. a pony. rode. Quat. chicks. Prie. Pun'. dim. Pyles. Quo'. Proveses. Raep. Pussie. Rab. the poll. provosts. poor. 732 . toadstools. Pu'.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Queir. Priggin. Pownie. precise. mushrooms. of prim. Quean. quoth. Puir. quitted. a magpie. pound. tasted. proof. print. rob. the head. Pyet. a hare. Pursie. to pick. to pull. choir. a young woman. pund. Quietlin-wise. of purse. Preen. Prief. Rade. haggling. Puddock-stools. Pow't. pulled. Pyke. pried (proved).

reached. cream. lawless. anger. sturdy. Rant. Raize. Raise. roaring. by Robert Burns Ragweed. to roister. Raucle. Rash. bitter. Rashy. Randie. surly. advised. Ramgunshoch. Raught. ragwort. Rebute. rows. Raw. Ream. Ramfeezl'd. 733 . Rape. foam. a row. Rattan. to stretch. rose. rattoon. merry meetings. to cream. exhausted. headlong. v. raep. Reave. to roar. Red. recites by rote. obstreperous. to rollick. Rairin. rebuff. rushy. Raibles. roared. Raploch. Rax. a rat. to excite. a clump of rushes.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. to rob. afraid. rough. Rash-buss. Rants. a scoundrel. a rush. Rair. Ratton-key. randy. rase. homespun. Ram-stam. the rat-quay. to foam. Randie. to extend. a rascal. Rair't. Ream.

Roose. a distaff. Riggin. theiving. stark mad. Roun'. Roon. rede. to tear. cracked. Routh. Rock. a handful of corn from the sheaf. Rigwoodie. Ripplin-kame. Rin. scorched. well-stocked. Rottan. Roupet. a rat. small stacks of corn in the fields. lean. rowth. to run. by Robert Burns Red. Rive. Reestit. the roof-tree. to tug. the wool or flax comb. a ridge. smoke. a social meeting. to burst. Ripp. the roof. refused to go. exhausted in voice. Red-wud. Roose. Reif. Rief.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Remead. plunder. reeky. Rig. Reek. to advise. v. Reekie. to praise. round. to split. to counsel. Rockin. round. Reestit. Routhie. 734 . Riskit. Rickles. remedy. red-wet-shod. to flatter. rusty. Roosty. Red-wat-shod. shred. smoky. reputation.

so. Sair. the willow. Saut-backets. Runt. soft. to flow. Sawney. salt. v. hard. as a river. a cabbage or colewort stalk. to serve. resin. Sairie. to sow. Sannack. Rowte. strong. plenty. to bellow. 735 . sorrowful. sandy. to scare. rowe. Saft. wrinkled.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. a shirt. to low. Ryke. to wrap. Sandy. Scar. soul. Sae. saint. to sob. Saut. Sair. to roll. Rowth. Rozet. sairly. Run-deils. six. v. a cudgel. of Alexander. Saw. Saugh. sorry. Runkl'd. a store. Sair. Sax. Sab. Scar. severe. Saul. sawmont. to reach. Sark. sorely. Saumont. scaur. sore. v. downright devils. backets. shall. Sall. the salmon. Rung. Saunt. by Robert Burns Row. dim.

self. calling hoarsely. skaith. Shaird. Sets. See'd. Scrievin. Shachl'd. to repeat rapidly. Semple. scold. Scraichin. sold. Sculdudd'ry. v. to rattle. by Robert Burns Scathe. damage. sicken. a rip. scrubby. Scriegh. a soft flour cake. skriegh. to set off. Sconner. to scald. freehold possessions. sell't. to start. afraid. Scrimpit. Scriechin. sell. shapeless. simple. Scone. scanty. Set. Scaur. shred. bawdry. scaith. screeching. 736 . v. Screed. sel'. Sconner. send. scroggy. Scaud. Sel. Seisins. apt to be scared. Set.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. to scold. she. a rent. saw. a jutting rock or bank of earth. Scaul. Scauld. skriegh. becomes. Scho. Sen'. disgust. Screed. Scaur. shard. Sell'd. sat. Scroggie. careering.

Shool. Sherra-moor. sheriffmuir. a furrow. a wood. shore (did shear). a ditch. Shog. shoes. should not. Shaw. Sheep-shank. sicker score = strict conditions. Shill. to threaten. a little while ago. trick. shoulder.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. 737 . silver. certain. sideways. shallow. Siller. Shiel. Sidelins. Shore. Shaul. Shanna. Shouldna. a shed. a sheep's trotter. steady. Shouther. Shure. such a. Shearer. Sicker. wholly. Sic. nae sheep-shank bane = a person of no small importance. shook. to show. Sheugh. to offer. Short syne. shrill. Shaw. showther. Sheuk. Sheerly. a cleft stick. such. a shovel. money in general. Siccan. gutter. Shoon. cottage. shall not. scissors. Shavie. Shaver. a reaper. by Robert Burns Shanagan. Sheers. a shake. a funny fellow.

to whinny. Singet. slid. son. Skellum. a good-for-nothing. a gate. by Robert Burns Simmer. Skyte. Skriegh. the sun.). B. Skelvy. damage. Skyrin. a slant. summer. ingenious. a slap. Skelp. skittish. Skiegh. sunny. the sloe. Sin'. Slee. shriveled. glittering. Skouth. to scream. Sklent. Sindry. since. watery. Slaw. Sinn. a smack. Slae. to squint. Skinklin. Skelp. . lash. a turn. Sklent. 738 Skelpie-limmer's-face. Sin. shelvy. flaring. slow. v. Slade. skeigh. Skaith. a technical term in female scolding (R. skelpin at it = driving at it. Skeigh. skiegh.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Skriech. to cheat. Sinny. to spank. a scream. Slap. Skinking. a breach in a fence. scope. Skirl. sundry. squirt. to cry or sound shrilly. to slant. singed. sly.

smithy. . Sned. slippery. he weel a snick can draw = he is good at cheating. to stumble. to snub. Snirtle. smothered. Snowkit. a small collection. snick-drawing = scheming. a powder. Slidd'ry. Snoods. Sma'. Snoove. pleasant. smutty. a soldier. Snaw. snuffed. biting. Smoutie. snow-brew (melted snow). Snapper. Snell. Smoor'd. to cringe. Smeddum. Snool. fillets worn by maids. Snaw-broo. bitter. soger. Sodger. Snakin. sneering. Snash. good-natured. smoke. to slake. a litter. by Robert Burns Sleekit. 739 Snick. sleek.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. to snigger. Smiddy. slipped. Sneeshin mill. a snuff-box. to lop. snow. jolly. Sonsie. to prune. Smeek. to go slowly. a latch. Smytrie. Snap smart. to swim. Sloken. abuse. crafty. sonsy. Soom. small. Slypet.

740 . Spak. Sough. Souple. Sowens. sugh. Sowth. Soupe. Spae. porridge of oat flour. Speel. Spreckled. Souk. speer. Spier. Sowps. to spit. Spavit. Spavie. a quick tune. Souter. Speat. Speer. by Robert Burns Soor. speckled. Spring. cobbler. v. spier. Sprattle. Spails. to solder. Spence. suck. the parlor. Spairge. to splash. a dance. sup. to hum or whistle in a low tune. sour. the spavin. Sowther. clambered. Spean. Spates. Spleuchan.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. to climb. chips. to spatter. spavined. a frolic. sups. Speet. spoke. to foretell. a carousal. to ask. Splore. Sprachl'd. v. scramble. pouch. supple. a flood. to wean. liquid. floods.

dim. Stank. Stan'. Spunkie. to settle. sting. a stall. stole. of starn. Squattle. a match. fire. Stan't. full of spirit. to course. a stitch. Starnies. to surfeit. to close. Stacher. to squat. Stark. star. stand. Spurtle-blade. stood. half-witted. spruce. full of roots or sprouts (a kind of rush). stone. to flap. liquor. Stapple. a moat. Spunkies. a pond. Startle. jack-o'-lanterns. Stang. dim. Staw. Steek. Spunk. to sicken. Sprush. to shut. cramming. a spark. Squatter. 741 . by Robert Burns Sprittie. Staw. spirit. Stane. Starns. will-o'-wisps. the pot-stick. Staig. strong.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Staw. to totter. spirits. a young horse. Spunkie. Stechin. Staggie. to stop. stars. of staig. Stap. Steek. Staumrel. a stopper.

Sten. straight. by stealth. Sten't. Strak. limp (with the aid of stilts). chief reaper. a plant of cabbage. strong. Stown. Stownlins. stubble. death in bed. Stoure. stolen. Stilt. Stents. completely. staggered. to stagger. (i.. stern. harsh. compact. a young bullock. by Robert Burns Steek. e. to shut. Stoun'. a still. steepest. Staik. Steyest. Stimpart. Stoyte. Strang. Stented. throb. dues. to stroke. dusty. Stourie. Stibble-rig. sprang. meddle with. dust. Stick-an-stowe. Steeve. pang. Straught. Stirk. Stoited. a spring. Stell. Strae death. on straw). struck. Straught. stumbled. Stoor.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. colewort. a quarter peck. Stibble. set on high. erected. a leap. Stock. to stretch. assessments. 742 . to touch. Stoiter'd.

wail. Swirl. sward. v. Stumpie. Swarf. of stump. Swall'd. exchanged. Swankies. southern. Studdie. worry. dead-sweer. an anvil. Swap. sough. Sugh. swish. sigh. Sweer. swelled. Sturt. twisted. a worn quill. Swatch. churl. Swapped. staggered. moan. to vex. by Robert Burns Streekit. sweated. 743 . to fret. sugar. dim. soon. swopped. to straddle. should. new ale. Styme. Swats.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. strapping fellows. exchange. Strunt. trouble. Swaird. Stron't. Sud. Swat. stretched. Sune. Sucker. liquor. Striddle. Suthron. to swagger. to swoon. the faintest trace. Sturtin. Strunt. curl. lanted. Sturt. knaggy. Swank. frighted. Sumph. sample. Swirlie. limber.

Tak. Tapetless. Tald.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. swim. to tarry. Tacket. Targe. Tane. told. to murmur. talk. topsy-turvy. Tap. swore. Sybow. Tapmost. lease. to be reluctant. Syne. senseless. off and away. Swither. Tae. a young union. shoe-nail. one in contrast to other. Tae'd. since. Tauk. top. Swoor. by Robert Burns Swith. haste. to target. Tangs. to examine. Taen. Tap-pickle. doubt. 744 . the grain at the top of the stalk. a goblet. Swoom. taken. toad. Tassie. Tack. topmost. tongs. to weary. take. a crested hen-shaped bottle holding three quarts of claret. Taed. possession. Tae. toed. Tarrow. Taet. hesitation. small quantity. then. Tairge. toe. Tappet-hen. to. Topsalteerie.

thatched. Tentier. more watchful. Theckit. 745 Temper-pin. thou shalt. Tentie. careful. small quantities. heed. and so. spiteful. thrilled. these. Teats. tractable. watchful. v. home necessities. Thirl'd. Tawted. Thiggin. Tell'd. tough. Teugh. matted. a foolish woman. to suffer. thack and rape = the covering of a house. to observe. Teen. thaw. to tend. a fiddle-peg. an old silver coin about sixpence in value. those. the regulating pin of the spinning-wheel. to heed. Thae. Thou'se. Teuk. told. small guts. Thowe. catgut (a fiddle-string). to endure. Thairm. Thieveless. Thack. Thir. begging. Thegither. heedful.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. told. Tester. Tent. Tawpie. together. by Robert Burns Tauld. thatch. took. Thick. . Tentless. pack an' thick. careless. vexation. Tent. Thole. forbidding. Tawie.

thirty. Thraw. alone. Till't. Thrang. Tine.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Threap. to twist. twenty-four sheaves of corn. timber. to be lost. Timmer. Thretteen. material. trio. mak to through = make good. a throng. Thristed. Tip. to knock for entrance. a twist. Thy lane. prepared. the windpipe. 746 . Thraws. Tither. toop. the other. Through. lost Tippence. Thrang. to thwart. maintain. throes. to it. to strip. thistle. Thrapple. v. thronging in crowds. twopence. pell-mell. Tirl. tinker. busy. Till. polecat. Thrave. girt. to. Tight. lazy. thirsted. Thretty. Throu'ther (through other). thirteen. Thummart. to lose. Tirl. by Robert Burns Thowless. Thraw. Threesome. to turn. argue. Thrissle. useless. Tinkler. Tint.

Towsing. Troggin. blast. Tozie. Toun. Towmond. Toyte. flax. To-fa'. Trinklin. Trogger. shafts. shaggy. marriage portion. the fall. 747 . the wheel of a barrow. Troke. Trin'le. empty. Trouse. Tod. Tocher-gude. by Robert Burns Tittlin. neat. dowry. trousers. Trams. towmont. a rope. Toss. trim. Trews. to barter. a jew's harp. Toop. Trump. trousers. Trowth. Tocher. to totter. Transmogrify. wares. small trash. town. ram. change. Tow. a twelvemonth. Tocher. the toast. Toom. in truth. Tousie. packman. farm steading. flushed with drink. rumpling (equivocal). Trashtrie. Tout. flowing. Trig. tup.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. whispering. the fox. to give a dowry.

dangerous. to rob. Tyke. strange things. Ulzie. uncertain. Tway. twine. Twafauld. twelve. Uncos. Twa. to deprive. Unchancy. Unkend. 748 . victual. usquebae. Virls. Tulyie. appointed. a squabble. the twal = twelve at night. Tysday. excessively. Tuesday. oil. Twal. vain. Vauntie. whisky. Twistle. two or three. v. a sprain. two. Unskaithed. Usquabae. very.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. unhurt. double. twinge. a dog. tulzie. twofold. news. Vera. rings. Unco. a penny worth (English money). a twist. unknown. Unco. Unsicker. remarkable. food. a cattle-market. uncommonly. Twa-three. a fair. terrible (sarcastic). meeting. Vittle. wonders. proud. Twalpennie worth. Twin. a tussle. remarkably. two. Twang. grain. tine. bereave. Trysting. Tyne. Trysted. by Robert Burns Tryste. Vogie. uncommon.

Wab. the belly. world. woful. wae's me = wo is to me. dangerous. work. worn. Waesucks. Wark-lume. Waly fa'. bestow. Wark. a web.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. wo befall. a mortgage. choice. Wale. Wabster. Warlock. to gallop. Wale. tool. bellyful. a weaver. a wall. to spend. won. waw. ware. Ware. would. by Robert Burns Wa'. would not. to wager. alas! Wae worth. to wed. large. sorrowful. choice. to dance. wo. Wad. Wadset. Ware. warld. Wad. Wan. Walie. Warl'. ample. Wae. restless. wawlie. Wamefou. Wanchancie. wair. to dangle. Wadna. would have. a wizard 749 . to choose. to kick. Wad. Wair. would have. v. Wad'a. Wallop. Wanrestfu'. Wae. ill befall! Wame.

Wean (wee one). Wat. water-foot (the river's mouth). a draft. worsted. Waur't. warrant. awake. Waukrife.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. worldly. Wauk. warldly. wakeful. Wauble. a little. Warsle. worse. Weel-gaun. west. children. wot. Wastrie. Waulie. Warse. Wauken. a wee = a short space or time. Water-kelpies. Weel-faured. 750 . beat. Waught. know. Waukin. waste. wrestle. kelpies. to wobble. well. Waur. a measure for corn. Wat. Wecht. Weel. Wee things. by Robert Burns Warl'y. a child. Wee. Warran. warstle. Waur. Wast. wet. to awake. to awaken. Weanies. jolly. weasand. babies. Waukit (with toil). well-going. to worst. well-favored. Weason. v. horny. Water-fit. worse.

a fib. jerk. Whatna. Whingin. gambols. scudding. we shall. the curlew. whose. whelped. what. who. Werena. nevertheless. Whaup. Whaizle. Wha's. when. western. well-saved. Whang. whatfore. mournings (on the steeve or hat). what matter. Whiddin. penny-wheep. whare. where. Whase. Whigmeleeries. Wha. wheeze. were not. crotches. furze. Whalpet. Whins. Whids. Whaur. Wham. who is. What reck.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. a shive. 751 . Whatt. where. We'se. wherefore. Whang. Whan. Whar. by Robert Burns Weel-hain'd. Weepers. Whid. Westlin. What for. Wheep. Wheep. whom. Wha's whose. whining. v. flog. whittled.

won. more influential. to winnow. to swing. a curse. 752 . strong. will not. Winze. Winn. Won. with his. eddy. Wimple. Wi't. flourishes. wish. Win't. v. Wight. gallows-worthy. Win. Wiss. Wi'. with it. Wiel. a somersault. stout. Winna. a draft. bunker. Whitter. by Robert Burns Whirlygigums. Wintle. Wick a bore. hit a curling-stone obliquely and send it through an opening. whistle. did wind. Wighter. with. Winnock. Winnin. silence. disordered. winding. Wi's. Willcat wildcat. Widdle. Whissle. Whittle. Willyart. Widdifu'. a knife. wriggle. Wintle. to meander. to stagger. Winnock-bunker. Whist. window.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. to wriggle. to dwell.

Yealings. yoking. jerked. ye shall. Yaud. Yerd. Wyte. Yeuk. wae worth. a garden. earth. last night. coevals. Wrang. dry (milkless). Yokin. Wyte (weight). Wumble. Yestreen. wrong.Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. a rope (originally of withes). wild. wool. Wraith. worthy. an old mare. twigs. ale. a day's work. Yill. ghost. v. withes. a gallows rope. Yard. Woodies. Yell. Yerl. Wooer-babs. earl. 753 . Woodie. wimble. Ye'se. blame. Wordy. undervest. a wonder. a spell. Yill-Caup. Yett. woody. Wyliecoat. Worth. worsted. ale-stoup. Yird. to reproach. mad. yearth. love-knots. Yerkit. to itch. Woo'. earth. a gate. a stackyard. by Robert Burns Wonner. Worset. Wud. to blame.

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