EPITAPH ON MY OWN FRIEND AND MY
FATHER'S FRIEND, WM. MUIR IN TAR-
BOLTON MILL
AN honest man here lies at rest,
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 informed:
If there's another world, he lives in bliss;
If there is none, he made the best of this.
FLOW gently, sweet Afton! among thy green braes, Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise; My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream, Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.
Thou stock-dove whose echo resounds thro' the glen,
Ye wild whistling blackbirds, in yon thorny den,
Thou green-crested lapwing thy screaming forbear,
I charge you, disturb not my slumbering Fair.
How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighbouring hills,
Far mark'd with the courses of clear, winding rills;
There daily I wander as noon rises high,
My flocks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eye.
How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below,
Where, wild in the woodlands, the primroses blow;
There oft, as mild Ev'ning weeps over the lea,
The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me.
Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides,
And winds by the cot where my Mary resides;
How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave,
As, gathering sweet flowerets, she stems thy clear
Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes,
Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays;
My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream,
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.
DEDICATION OF THE KILMARNOCK EDITION OF THE POEMS OF BURNS
SPEAKING of Mr. Hamilton, one of his most intimate friends, in a humorous vein he said:
I readily and freely grant
He downa see a poor man want;
What's no his ain, he winna tak it;
What ance he says, he winna break it;
Ought he can lend he'll no refus't,
Till aft his guidness is abus'd;
And rascals whyles that do him wrang,
Ev'n that, he does na mind it lang;
As master, landlord, husband, father,
He does na fail his part in either.
But then, nae thanks to him for a' that;
Nae godly symptom ye can ca' that;
It's naething but a milder feature
Of our poor, sinfu' corrupt nature:
Ye'll get the best o' moral works,
'Mang black Gentoos, and pagan Turks,
Or hunters wild on Ponataxi,
Wha never heard of orthodoxy.
That he's the poor man's friend in need,
The gentleman in word and deed,
It's no thro' terror of d-mn-t-n;
It's just a carnal inclination.
Morality, thou deadly bane,
Thy tens o' thousands thou hast slain!
Vain is his hope, whase stay an' trust is
In moral mercy, truth, and justice!
Learn three-mile pray'rs, an' half-mile graces,1
Wi' weel-spread looves, an' lang, wry faces
Grunt up a solemn, lengthen'd groan,
And damn a' parties but your own;
I'll warrant, then ye're nae deceiver,
A steady, sturdy, staunch believer.
Your pardon, sir, for this digression:
I maist forgat my Dedication;
But when Divinity comes 'cross me,
My readers still are sure to lose me.
But I'se repeat each poor man's pray'r,
That kens or hears about you, Sir
'May ne'er Misfortune's growling bark, Howl thro' the dwelling o' the clerk !2 May ne'er his gen'rous, honest heart,
For that same gen'rous spirit smart!
This was in ridicule of the auld light teaching of Rev. M. Auld who often criticised Edwin Hamilton.
'Mr. Hamilton was a clerk or lawyer; and one of the leaders in condemning what he believed to be errors in the religious teaching of the "auld light" preachers,
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