Muirhead,[119] wha’s as gude as he’s true;
An’ there will be Buittle’s[120] apostle,
Wha’s more o’ the black than the blue;
An’ there will be folk from St. Mary’s,[121]
A house o’ great merit and note,
The deil ane but honours them highly,—
The deil ane will gie them his vote!
VII.
Dame Fortune should hing by the neck;
For prodigal, thriftless, bestowing,
His merit had won him respect:
An’ there will be rich brother nabobs,
Tho’ nabobs, yet men of the first,
An’ there will be Collieston’s[123] whiskers,
An’ Quintin, o’ lads not the worst.
VIII.
IX.
Wha’ll ne’er be forgot in the Greys,
Our flatt’ry we’ll keep for some other,
Him only ’tis justice to praise.
An’ there will be maiden Kilkerran,
And also Barskimming’s gude knight,
An’ there will be roarin’ Birtwhistle,
Wha luckily roars in the right.
X.
Will mingle the Maxwells in droves;
Teugh Johnnie, staunch Geordie, an’ Walie,
That griens for the fishes an’ loaves;
An’ there will be Logan Mac Douall,[126]
Sculdudd’ry an’ he will be there,
An’ also the wild Scot of Galloway,
Sodgerin’, gunpowder Blair.
XI.
An’ hey for the blessings ’twill bring?
It may send Balmaghie to the Commons,
In Sodom ’twould make him a king;
An’ hey for the sanctified M——y,
Our land who wi’ chapels has stor’d;
He founder’d his horse among harlots,
But gied the auld naig to the Lord.
FOOTNOTES:
[112] Murray, of Broughton and Caillie.
[113] Gordon of Balmaghie.
[114] Bushby, of Tinwald-Downs.
[115] Maxwell, of Cardoness.
[116] The Douglasses, of Orchardtown and Castle-Douglas.
[117] Gordon, afterwards Viscount Kenmore.
[118] Laurie, of Redcastle.
[119] Morehead, Minister of Urr.
[120] The Minister of Buittle.
[121] Earl of Selkirk’s family.
[122] Oswald, of Auchuncruive.
[123] Copland, of Collieston and Blackwood.
[124] John Syme, of the Stamp-office.
[125] Heron, of Kerroughtree.
[126] Colonel Macdouall, of Logan.
CL.
THE HERON BALLADS.
[BALLAD THIRD.]
[This third and last ballad was written on the contest between Heron and Stewart, which followed close on that with Gordon. Heron carried the election, but was unseated by the decision of a Committee of the House of Commons: a decision which it is said he took so much to heart that it affected his health, and shortened his life.]
AN EXCELLENT NEW SONG.
Tune.—“Buy broom besoms.”
Fine election ware;
Broken trade o’ Broughton,
A’ in high repair.
Buy braw troggin,
Frae the banks o’ Dee;
Wha wants troggin
Let him come to me.
Fame and high renown
For an auld sang—
It’s thought the gudes were stown.
Buy braw troggin, &c.
In a needle’s ee;
Here’s a reputation
Tint by Balmaghie.
Buy braw troggin, &c.
Might a prince adorn;
Frae the downs o’ Tinwald—[129]
So was never worn.
Buy braw troggin, &c.
Cardoness’[130] head;
Fine for a sodger
A’ the wale o’ lead.
Buy braw troggin, &c.
Buittle’s[131] scrap o’ truth,
Pawn’d in a gin-shop
Quenching holy drouth.
Buy braw troggin, &c.
Frae the manse o’ Urr;[132]
The crest, an auld crab-apple
Rotten at the core.
Buy braw troggin, &c.
Like a bizzard gled,
Pouncing poor Redcastle,[133]
Sprawlin’ as a taed.
Buy braw troggin, &c.
Collieston[134] can boast;
By a thievish midge
They had been nearly lost.
Buy braw troggin, &c.
O’ the ten commands;
Gifted by black Jock[135]
To get them aff his hands.
Buy braw troggin, &c.
If to buy ye’re slack,
Hornie’s turnin’ chapman,
He’ll buy a’ the pack.
Buy braw troggin,
Frae the banks o’ Dee;
Wha wants troggin
Let him come to me.
FOOTNOTES:
[127] The Earl of Galloway.
[128] Murray, of Broughton and Caillie.
[129] Bushby, of Tinwald-downs.
[130] Maxwell, of Cardoness.
[131] The Minister of Buittle.
[132] Morehead, of Urr.
[133] Laurie, of Redcastle.
[134] Copland, of Collieston and Blackwood.
[135] John Bushby, of Tinwald-downs.
CLI.
POEM,
ADDRESSED TO
MR. MITCHELL, COLLECTOR OF EXCISE.
DUMFRIES, 1796.
[The gentlemen to whom this very modest, and, under the circumstances, most affecting application for his salary was made, filled the office of Collector of Excise for the district, and was of a kind and generous nature: but few were aware that the poet was suffering both from ill-health and poverty.]
Wha, wanting thee, might beg or steal;
Alake, alake, the meikle deil
Wi’ a’ his witches
Are at it, skelpin’ jig and reel,
In my poor pouches!
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.
To see the new come laden, groaning,
Wi’ double plenty o’er the loanin
To thee and thine;
Domestic peace and comforts crowning
The hale design.
POSTSCRIPT.
And by felt death was nearly nicket;
Grim loon! he got me by the fecket,
And sair me sheuk;
But by guid luck I lap a wicket,
And turn’d a neuk.
And by that life, I’m promised mair o’t,
My hale and weel I’ll tak a care o’t,
A tentier way:
Then farewell folly, hide and hair o’t,
For ance and aye!
CLII.
TO
MISS JESSY LEWARS,
DUMFRIES.
WITH JOHNSON’S ‘MUSICAL MUSEUM.’
[Miss Jessy Lewars watched over the declining days of the poet, with the affectionate reverence of a daughter: for this she has the silent gratitude of all who admire the genius of Burns; she has received more, the thanks of the poet himself, expressed in verses not destined soon to die.]
And with them take the Poet’s prayer;
That fate may in her fairest page,
With every kindliest, best presage
Of future bliss, enrol thy name:
With native worth and spotless fame,
And wakeful caution still aware
Of ill—but chief, man’s felon snare;
All blameless joys on earth we find,
And all the treasures of the mind—
These be thy guardian and reward;
So prays thy faithful friend, The Bard.
June 26, 1796.
CLIII.
POEM ON LIFE,
ADDRESSED TO
COLONEL DE PEYSTER.
DUMFRIES, 1796.
[This is supposed to be the last Poem written by the hand, or conceived by the muse of Burns. The person to whom it is addressed was Colonel of the gentlemen Volunteers of Dumfries, in whose ranks Burns was a private: he was a Canadian by birth, and prided himself on having defended Detroit, against the united efforts of the French and Americans. He was rough and austere, and thought the science of war the noblest of all sciences: he affected a taste for literature, and wrote verses.]
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.
Would pain and care and sickness spare it;
And fortune favour worth and merit,
As they deserve!
(And aye a rowth, roast beef and claret;
Syne, wha wad starve?)
And in paste gems and frippery deck her;
Oh! flickering, feeble, and unsicker
I’ve found her still,
Ay wavering like the willow-wicker,
’Tween good and ill.
Watches, like baudrons by a rattan,
Our sinfu’ saul to get a claut on
Wi’ felon ire;
Syne, whip! his tail ye’ll ne’er cast saut on—
He’s aff like fire.
First shewing us the tempting ware,
Bright wines and bonnie lasses rare,
To put us daft;
Syne, weave, unseen, thy spider snare
O’ hell’s damn’d waft.
And aft as chance he comes thee nigh,
Thy auld danm’d elbow yeuks wi’ joy,
And hellish pleasure;
Already in thy fancy’s eye,
Thy sicker treasure!
And like a sheep head on a tangs,
Thy girning laugh enjoys his pangs
And murd’ring wrestle,
As, dangling in the wind, he hangs
A gibbet’s tassel.
To plague you with this draunting drivel,
Abjuring a’ intentions evil,
I quat my pen:
The Lord preserve us frae the devil,
Amen! amen!
EPITAPHS, EPIGRAMS, FRAGMENTS,
ETC., ETC.
I.
ON THE AUTHOR’S FATHER.
[William Burness merited his son’s eulogiums: he was an example of piety, patience, and fortitude.]
Draw near with pious rev’rence and attend!
Here lie the loving husband’s dear remains,
The tender father and the gen’rous friend.
The pitying heart that felt for human woe;
The dauntless heart that feared no human pride;
The friend of man, to vice alone a foe;
“For ev’n his failings lean’d to virtue’s side.”
II.
ON R.A., ESQ.
[Robert Aiken, Esq., to whom “The Cotter’s Saturday Night” is addressed: a kind and generous man.]
Of this much lov’d, much honour’d name!
(For none that knew him need be told)
A warmer heart death ne’er made cold.
III.
ON A FRIEND.
[The name of this friend is neither mentioned nor alluded to in any of the poet’s productions.]
As e’er God with his image blest!
The friend of man, the friend of truth;
The friend of age, and guide of youth;
Few hearts like his, with virtue warm’d,
Few heads with knowledge so inform’d:
If there’s another world, he lives in bliss;
If there is none, he made the best of this.
IV.
FOR GAVIN HAMILTON.
[These lines allude to the persecution which Hamilton endured for presuming to ride on Sunday, and say, “damn it,” in the presence of the minister of Mauchline.]
Whom canting wretches blam’d:
But with such as he, where’er he be,
May I be sav’d or damn’d!
V.
ON WEE JOHNNY.
HIC JACET WEE JOHNNY.
[Wee Johnny was John Wilson, printer of the Kilmarnock edition of Burns’s Poems: he doubted the success of the speculation, and the poet punished him in these lines, which he printed unaware of their meaning.]
That death has murder’d Johnny!
An’ here his body lies fu’ low—
For saul he ne’er had ony.
VI.
ON JOHN DOVE,
INNKEEPER, MAUCHLINE.
[John Dove kept the Whitefoord Arms in Mauchline: his religion is made to consist of a comparative appreciation of the liquors he kept.]
What was his religion?
Wha e’er desires to ken,
To some other warl’
Maun follow the carl,
For here Johnny Pidgeon had nane!
Small beer, persecution,
A dram was memento mori;
But a full flowing bowl
Was the saving his soul,
And port was celestial glory.
VII.
ON A WAG IN MAUCHLINE.
[This laborious and useful wag was the “Dear Smith, thou sleest pawkie thief,” of one of the poet’s finest epistles: he died in the West Indies.]
He aften did assist ye;
For had ye staid whole weeks awa,
Your wives they ne’er had missed ye.
Ye Mauchline bairns, as on ye press
To school in bands thegither,
O tread ye lightly on his grass,—
Perhaps he was your father.
VIII.
ON A CELEBRATED RULING ELDER.
[Souter Hood obtained the distinction of this Epigram by his impertinent inquiries into what he called the moral delinquencies of Burns.]
To h—ll, if he’s gane thither,
Satan, gie him thy gear to keep,
He’ll haud it weel thegither.
IX.
ON A NOISY POLEMIC.
[This noisy polemic was a mason of the name of James Humphrey: he astonished Cromek by an eloquent dissertation on free grace, effectual-calling, and predestination.]
O Death, it’s my opinion,
Thou ne’er took such a blethrin’ b—ch
Into thy dark dominion!
X.
ON MISS JEAN SCOTT.
[The heroine of these complimentary lines lived in Ayr, and cheered the poet with her sweet voice, as well as her sweet looks.]
Been Jeany Scott, as thou art,
The bravest heart on English ground
Had yielded like a coward!
XI.
ON A HENPECKED COUNTRY SQUIRE.
[Though satisfied with the severe satire of these lines, the poet made a second attempt.]
A case that’s still too common,
Here lies a man a woman rul’d,
The devil rul’d the woman.
XII.
ON THE SAME.
[The second attempt did not in Burns’s fancy exhaust this fruitful subject: he tried his hand again.]
Whom we this day lament,
We freely wad exchang’d the wife,
And a’ been weel content!
The swap we yet will do’t;
Take thou the carlin’s carcase aff,
Thou’se get the soul to boot.
XIII.
ON THE SAME.
[In these lines he bade farewell to the sordid dame, who lived, it is said, in Netherplace, near Mauchline.]
When depriv’d of her husband she loved so well,
In respect for the love and affection he’d show’d her,
She reduc’d him to dust and she drank up the powder.
But Queen Netherplace, of a diff’rent complexion,
When call’d on to order the fun’ral direction,
Would have eat her dear lord, on a slender pretence,
Not to show her respect, but to save the expense.
XIV.
THE HIGHLAND WELCOME.
[Burns took farewell of the hospitalities of the Scottish Highlands in these happy lines.]
A time that surely shall come;
In Heaven itself I’ll ask no more
Than just a Highland welcome.
XV.
ON WILLIAM SMELLIE.
[Smellie, author of the Philosophy of History; a singular person, of ready wit, and negligent in nothing save his dress.]
The old cock’d hat, the gray surtout, the same;
His bristling beard just rising in its might,
’Twas four long nights and days to shaving night:
A head for thought profound and clear, unmatch’d:
Yet tho’ his caustic wit was biting, rude,
His heart was warm, benevolent, and good.
XVI.
VERSES
WRITTEN ON A WINDOW OF THE INN AT CARRON.
[These lines were written on receiving what the poet considered an uncivil refusal to look at the works of the celebrated Carron foundry.]
In hopes to be mair wise,
But only, lest we gang to hell,
It may be nae surprise:
Your porter dought na hear us;
Sae may, shou’d we to hell’s yetts come
Your billy Satan sair us!
XVII.
THE BOOK-WORMS.
[Burns wrote this reproof in a Shakspeare, which he found splendidly bound and gilt, but unread and worm-eaten, in a noble person’s library.]
Ye maggots, make your windings;
But oh! respect his lordship’s taste,
And spare his golden bindings.
XVIII.
LINES ON STIRLING.
[On visiting Stirling, Burns was stung at beholding nothing but desolation in the palaces of our princes and our halls of legislation, and vented his indignation in those unloyal lines: some one has said that they were written by his companion, Nicol, but this wants confirmation.]
And laws for Scotland’s weal ordain’d;
But now unroof’d their palace stands,
Their sceptre’s sway’d by other hands;
The injured Stuart line is gone,
A race outlandish fills their throne;
An idiot race, to honour lost;
Who know them best despise them most.
XIX.
THE REPROOF.
[The imprudence of making the lines written at Stirling public was hinted to Burns by a friend; he said, “Oh, but I mean to reprove myself for it,” which he did in these words.]
Shall no longer appear in the records of fame;
Dost not know that old Mansfield, who writes like the Bible,
Says the more ’tis a truth, Sir, the more ’tis a libel?
XX.
THE REPLY.
[The minister of Gladsmuir wrote a censure on the Stirling lines, intimating, as a priest, that Burns’s race was nigh run, and as a prophet, that oblivion awaited his muse. The poet replied to the expostulation.]
All others’ scorn—but damn that ass’s heel.
XXI.
LINES
WRITTEN UNDER THE PICTURE OF THE CELEBRATED
MISS BURNS.
[The Miss Burns of these lines was well known in those days to the bucks of the Scottish metropolis: there is still a letter by the poet, claiming from the magistrates of Edinburgh a liberal interpretation of the laws of social morality, in belief of his fair namesake.]
Lovely Burns has charms—confess:
True it is, she had one failing—
Had a woman ever less?
XXII.
EXTEMPORE IN THE COURT OF SESSION.
[These portraits are strongly coloured with the partialities of the poet: Dundas had offended his pride, Erskine had pleased his vanity; and as he felt he spoke.]
LORD ADVOCATE.
He quoted and he hinted,
’Till in a declamation-mist
His argument he tint it:
He gaped for’t, he grap’d for’t,
He fand it was awa, man;
But what his common sense came short
He eked out wi’ law, man.
MR. ERSKINE.
Then open’d out his arm, man:
His lordship sat wi’ rueful e’e,
And ey’d the gathering storm, man;
Like wind-driv’n hail it did assail,
Or torrents owre a linn, man;
The Bench sae wise lift up their eyes,
Half-wauken’d wi’ the din, man.
XXIII.
THE HENPECKED HUSBAND.
[A lady who expressed herself with incivility about her husband’s potations with Burns, was rewarded by these sharp lines.]
The crouching vassal to the tyrant wife!
Who has no will but by her high permission;
Who has not sixpence but in her possession;
Who must to her his dear friend’s secret tell;
Who dreads a curtain lecture worse than hell!
Were such the wife had fallen to my part,
I’d break her spirit, or I’d break her heart;
I’d charm her with the magic of a switch,
I’d kiss her maids, and kick the perverse b——h.
XXIV.
WRITTEN AT INVERARY.
[Neglected at the inn of Inverary, on account of the presence of some northern chiefs, and overlooked by his Grace of Argyll, the poet let loose his wrath and his rhyme: tradition speaks of a pursuit which took place on the part of the Campbell, when he was told of his mistake, and of a resolution not to be soothed on the part of the bard.]
I pity much his case,
Unless he’s come to wait upon
The Lord their God, his Grace.
And Highland cauld and hunger;
If Providence has sent me here,
T’was surely in his anger.
XXV.
ON ELPHINSTON’S TRANSLATIONS.
OF
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS.
[Burns thus relates the origin of this sally:—“Stopping at a merchant’s shop in Edinburgh, a friend of mine one day put Elphinston’s Translation of Martial into my hand, and desired my opinion of it. I asked permission to write my opinion on a blank leaf of the book; which being granted, I wrote this epigram.”]