TO GAVIN HAMILTON, ESQ.

But lest he learn the callan tricks-
An' faith I muckle doubt him-

Like scrapin out auld Crummie's nicks,b
An' tellin lies about them;

As lieve then, I'd have then

Your clerkship he should sair,d
If sae be ye may be

Not fitted otherwhere.

Altho' I say't, he's glege enough,
An' bout a house that's rude an' rough,
The boy might learn to swear;
But then wi' you he'll be sae taught,
An' get sic fair example straught,
I hae na ony fear.

Ye'll catechise him, every quirk,
An' shore' him weel wi' hell;
An' gar him follow to the kirk-
Aye when ye gang yoursel.
If ye then maun be then
Frae hame this comin Friday,
Then please sir, to lea'e, sir,
The orders wi' your lady.

My word of honour I hae gi'en,
In Paisley John's, that night at c'en,
To meet the warld's wormh;
To try to get the twa to gree,
An' name the airles1 an' the fee,
In legal mode an' form:

I ken he weel a snick can draw,1
When simple bodies let him:
An' if a Devil be at a',

8 John Dow's Inn.

In faith he's sure to get him.

b the rings on a cow's horns.
• sharp..

⚫ willingly.

f threaten.

havaricious reptile, &e. M'Gaun. ' earnest-money.

I can lift a latch, i.e. cheat.

WILL YE GO TO THE INDIES

SIR,

To phrase you and praise you,
Ye ken your Laureat scorns:
The pray'r still you share still

Of grateful MINSTREL BURNS.

Versified Reply to an Invitation.1

Yours this moment I unseal,

And faith I'm gay and hearty!
To tell the truth and shame the deil,
I am as fou as Bartie :

But Foorsday, sir, my promise leal,
Expect me o' your partie,

If on a beastie I can speel,d

Or hurle in a cartie.

MAUCHLIN, Monday night, 10 o'clock.

Yours,

ROBERT BURNS.

Song-Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary ?2

a flatter.

Tune- "Will ye go to the Ewe-Bughts, Marion."

WILL ye go to the Indies, my Mary,

And leave auld Scotia's shore?
Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary,
Across th' Atlantic's roar?

1 This needs no further elucidation. The poet, of course, must have been a good deal less than fou when he wrote.

2 Burns meant to emigrate, and Highland Mary filled up the void in heart which we have just heard him bewailing. The poet is "a light and

sacred thing" according to Plato. At this time he was seeing his poems through the press, and had taken the famous vow to Mary over the Bible Mr Scott Douglas, in 1850, first ascer tained the date of the affair with Mary.

MY HIGHLAND LASSIE, O

O sweet grows the lime and the orange,
And the apple on the pine;

But a' the charms o' the Indies
Can never equal thine.

I hae sworn by the Heavens to my Mary,
I hae sworn by the Heavens to be true;
And sae may the Heavens forget me,
When I forget my vow!

O plight me your faith, my Mary,
And plight me your lily-white hand;
O plight me your faith, my Mary,
Before I leave Scotia's strand.

We hae plighted our troth, my Mary,
In mutual affection to join ;

And curst be the cause that shall part us!
The hour and the moment o' time!

Song-My Highland Lassie, O.1

NAE gentle dames, tho' ne'er sae fair,
Shall ever be my muse's care:
Their titles a' are empty show;

Gie me my Highland lassie, O.

Chorus. Within the glen sae bushy, O,
Aboon the plain sae rashy, O,
I set me down wi' right guid will,
To sing my Highland lassie, O.

⚫ high-born.

1 He is still bent on emigration; the reception of his poems made him alter his plans. It is really impossible to be certain whether, and to what degree, Burns had cause for "remorse" in this love affair, more than in many others.

"His honour rooted in dishonour stood," like Lancelot's, but the solemnity of his covenant with Mary, and a sudden pang of regret after his marriage, and Mary's death, make the affection momentous.

MY HIGHLAND LASSIE, O

O were yon hills and vallies mine,
Yon palace and yon gardens fine!
The world then the love should know
I bear my Highland lassie, O.

But fickle fortune frowns on me,
And I maun cross the raging sea!
But while my crimson currents flow,
I'll love my Highland lassie, O.

Altho' thro' foreign climes I range,
I know her heart will never change,
For her bosom burns with honour's glow,
My faithful Highland lassie, O.

For her I'll dare the billow's roar,
For her I'll trace a distant shore,
That Indian wealth may lustre throw
Around my Highland lassie, O.

She has my heart, she has my hand,
By secret troth and honour's band!
Till the mortal stroke shall lay me low,
I'm thine, my Highland lassie, O,

Farewell the glen sac bushy, O!
Farewell the plain sae rashy, O!
To other lands I now must go,
To sing my Highland lassie, O.

EPISTLE TO A YOUNG FRIEND

Epistle to a Young Friend.1

May

1786.

I LANG hae thought, my youthfu' friend,
A something to have sent you,
Tho' it should serve nae ither end
Than just a kind memento:
But how the subject-theme may gang,
Let time and chance determine;
Perhaps it may turn out a sang:
Perhaps turn out a sermon.

Ye'll try the world soon my lad;
And, Andrew dear, believe me,
Ye'll find mankind an unco squad,
And muckle they may grieve ye:
For care and trouble set your thought,
Ev'n when your end's attained;
And a' your views may come to nought,
Where ev'ry nerve is strained.

I'll no say, men are villains & ;
The real, harden'd wicked,

Wha hae nae check but human law,
Are to a few restricked;

But, och mankind are unco weak,
An' little to be trusted;

If self the wavering balance shake,
It's rarely right adjusted!

Yet they wha fa' in fortune's strife,
Their fate we shouldna censure;
For still, th' important end of life
They equally may answer;

1 The friend is Andrew, son of Robert Aiken. The most remarkable maxim is that on lawless love,

it hardens a' within, And petrifies the feeling.

Burns was never petrified enough to enjoy the rôle of Rob Mossgiel," of the rural Don Juan. Hence arose most of his misery. He could love, and ride away, and repent.