WINTER: A DIRGE

Tho' this was fair, and that was braw,"
And yon the toast of a' the town,
I sigh'd, and said among them a',
"Ye are na Mary Morison."

Oh, Mary, canst thou wreck his peace,
Wha for thy sake wad gladly die?
Or canst thou break that heart of his,
Whase only faut is loving thee?
If love for love thou wilt na gie,
At least be pity to me shown;
A thought ungentle canna be
The thought o' Mary Morison.

Winter: A Dirge.1

THE wintry west extends his blast,
And hail and rain does blaw;

Or the stormy north sends driving forth
The blinding sleet and snaw:

While, tumbling brown, the burn comes down,

And roars frae bank to brae;

And bird and beast in covert rest,

And pass the heartless day.

"The sweeping blast, the sky o'ercast," 2

The joyless winter day

Let others fear, to me more dear

Than all the pride of May:

The tempest's howl, it soothes my soul,
My griefs it seems to join ;
The leafless trees my fancy please,
Their fate resembles mine!

a gay.

was

1 The first of these poems which Burn's included in the Editio Princeps of Kilmarnock. Probably it written in his deep depression at Irvine. "The joyless winter day," he says, that he always felt to be inspiring or "enrapturing."

The text is that of the Kilmarnock edition, 1786. In the Common-place Book the first verse ends with "the weary day," on which heartless is a distinct improvement.

2 Dr Young.-R. B.

A PRAYER

Thou Power Supreme whose mighty scheme
These woes of mine fulfil,

Here firm I rest; they must be best,

Because they are Thy will!

Then all I want-O do Thou grant

This one request of mine!—
Since to enjoy Thou dost deny,
Assist me to resign.

A Prayer under the pressure of violent
Anguish.1

O THOU Great Being! what Thou art,
Surpasses me to know;

Yet sure I am, that known to Thee
Are all Thy works below.

Thy creature here before Thee stands,
All wretched and distrest;

Yet sure those ills that wring my soul
Obey Thy high behest.

Sure Thou, Almighty, canst not act
From cruelty or wrath!

O, free my weary eyes from tears,
Or close them fast in death!

But, if I must afflicted be,

To suit some wise design,

Then man my soul with firm resolves,
To bear and not repine!

1 This Burns included in his second or Edinburgh edition of 1787. Burns says that, in a New Year's frolic, immediately following on the com

position of this Prayer, his store of flax was burned.

The copy in the Common-place Book has some variants of little consequence,

PARAPHRASE OF FIRST PSALM

Paraphrase of the First Psalm.1

THE man, in life wherever plac'd,
Hath happiness in store,

Who walks not in the wicked's way,
Nor learns their guilty lore!

Nor from the seat of scornful pride
Casts forth his eyes abroad,
But with humility and awe
Still walks before his God.

That man shall flourish like the trees,
Which by the streamlets grow;
The fruitful top is spread on high,
And firm the root below.

But he whose blossom buds in guilt
Shall to the ground be cast,
And, like the rootless stubble, tost
Before the sweeping blast.

For why that God the good adore,
Hath giv'n them peace and rest,
But hath decreed that wicked men
Shall ne'er be truly blest.

The first six verses of the Ninetieth
Psalm versified.2

O THOU, the first, the greatest friend
Of all the human race!

Whose strong right hand has ever been
Their stay and dwelling place!

my

1 This is of the Irvine period, when, as Burns wrote to his father, only pleasurable enjoyment is looking backwards and forwards in a moral and religious way" (Irvine, Dec. 27, 1781). In a way less moral and re

ligious he cultivated " some acquaintance of a freer manner of thinking and living than he had been used to," says his brother Gilbert.

2 This is of the same period.

A PRAYER

Before the mountains heav'd their heads
Beneath Thy forming hand,
Before this ponderous globe itself,
Arose at Thy command;

That Pow'r which rais'd and still upholds

This universal frame,

From countless, unbeginning time

Was ever still the same.

Those mighty periods of years

Which seem to us so vast,
Appear no more before Thy sight
Than yesterday that's past.

Thou giv'st the word: Thy creature, man,
Is to existence brought;

Again Thou say'st, "Ye sons of men,
Return ye into nought!"

Thou layest them, with all their cares,
In everlasting sleep;

As with a flood Thou tak'st them off
With overwhelming sweep.

They flourish like the morning flow'r,
In beauty's pride array'd ;

But long ere night cut down it lies
All wither'd and decay'd.

A Prayer in the Prospect of Death.1

O THOU unknown, Almighty Cause
Of all my hope and fear!

In whose dread presence, ere an hour,
Perhaps I must appear!

Burns notes that this piece was written in an early illness which "first

put nature on the alarm.' Probably we have here the malaise of Irvine.

A PRAYER

If I have wander'd in those paths
Of life I ought to shun,

As something, loudly, in my breast,
Remonstrates I have done;

Thou know'st that Thou hast formed me
With passions wild and strong;
And list'ning to their witching voice
Has often led me wrong.

Where human weakness has come short,
Or frailty stept aside,

Do Thou, All-Good-for such Thou art-
In shades of darkness hide.

Where with intention I have err'd,
No other plea I have,

But, Thou art good; and Goodness still
Delighteth to forgive.

Stanzas, on the same Occasion.1

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?
Is it departing pangs my soul alarms?

Or death's unlovely, dreary, dark abode?

For guilt, for guilt, my terrors are in arms:
I tremble to approach an angry God,

And justly smart beneath His sin-avenging rod.

1 An early and unpromising experiment in the Spenserian measure, which "did not set his genius.' The verses

were a good deal polished for the Edinburgh edition.