All you IX. who follow wealth and power With unremitting ardour, O, The more in this you look for bliss, You leave your view the farther, O : Little poetic fervour found its way into this chaunt; yet it abounds with manly sentiments, and exhibits fortitude of mind amid the sorrows of the disastrous year 1784." The following song," says the Poet, is a wild rhapsody, miserably deficient in versification; but as the sentiments are the genuine feelings of my heart, for that reason I have a particular pleasure in conning it over." He feels what many have felt "When sometimes by my labour I earn a little money, O, Amid all his distresses and woes Ill har'sts, daft bargains, cutty stools," he had still some consolation "To plough and sow, and reap and mow, For one, he said, to labour bred, Was a match for fortune fairly, O." Much of the early history of the Poet may be traced in these rude verses. JOHN BARLEYCORN: A BALLAD. THERE were three kings into the east, They took a plough and plough'd him down, Put clods upon his head; And they ha'e sworn a solemn oath John Barleycorn was dead. But the cheerful spring came kindly on, John Barleycorn got up again, The sultry suns of summer came, The sober autumn enter'd mild, When he grew wan and pale; His bending joints and drooping head His colour sicken'd more and more, He faded into age; And then his enemies began To shew their deadly rage. They've ta'en a weapon, long and sharp, And cut him by the knee; Then ty'd him fast upon a cart, Like a rogue for forgerie. They laid him down upon his back, They filled up a darksome pit They heaved in John Barleycorn, They laid him out upon the floor, They wasted o'er a scorching flame But a miller us'd him worst of all, For he crush'd him between two stones. And they ha'e ta'en his very heart's blood, And still the more and more they drank, John Barleycorn was a hero bold, For if you do but taste his blood, "Twill make a man forget his woe; "Twill heighten all his joy: 'Twill make the widow's heart to sing, Tho' the tear were in her eye. Then let us toast John Barleycorn, Ne'er fail in old Scotland! It is intimated by Burns that John Barleycorn is partly composed on the plan of an old song known by the same name; the ancient ballad is printed by Jamieson, who gives it, he says, from his own recollection as he learned it in Morayshire, when he was a boy, and before the poems of Burns appeared. The merit of originality belongs to the old bard. Some of the verses are word for word the same; and those which are altered, have suffered little change in the sentiment. A few specimens will suffice to shew this : "There came three merry men from the east, And three merry men they be; And they have sworn a solemn oath John Barleycorn shall die." The effect of spring on honest John is well described ; the summer heat, too, does its duty : : "But the spring time it came on at last, And showers began to fall; John Barleycorn sprung up again, Which did surprise them all. "Then the summer heat on him did beat, And he grew pale and wan; John Barleycorn has got a beard Like any other man." To John's merits when he is cut by the sickle, thrashed, winnowed, ground, and brewed, the old bard bears explicit testimony : "He'll gar the huntsman shoot his dog, His gold a miser scorn; He'll gar a maiden dance stark naked, Wi' the tooming of a horn." The version of Burns is more consistent, but not more graphic than the old strain. |