FICKLE FORTUNE

Fain would I say, "Forgive my foul offence
Fain promise never more to disobey;
But, should my Author health again dispense,
Again I might desert fair virtue's way;
Again in folly's path might go astray;
Again exalt the brute and sink the man;

Then how should I for heavenly mercy pray
Who act so counter heavenly mercy's plan?
Who sin so oft have mourn'd, yet to temptation ran?

O Thou, great Governor of all below!
If I may dare a lifted eye to Thee,

Thy nod can make the tempest cease to blow,
Ör still the tumult of the raging sea:
With that controlling pow'r assist ev'n me,
Those headlong furious passions to confine,
For all unfit I feel my pow'rs to be,
To rule their torrent in th' allowèd line;
O, aid me with Thy help, Omnipotence Divine!

Fickle Fortune-"A Fragment."1

THOUGH fickle Fortune has deceived me,
She promis'd fair and perform'd but ill;
Of mistress, friends, and wealth bereav'd me,
Yet I bear a heart shall support me still.

I'll act with prudence as far 's I'm able,
But if success I must never find,
Then come misfortune, I bid thee welcome,
I'll meet thee with an undaunted mind.

1 Of the same period. Burns quotes an old verse which he imitated: un

fortunately the rest of the "auld sang" has perished.

"I'LL GO AND BE A SODGER"

Raging Fortune-Fragment of Song.1

O RAGING Fortune's withering blast
Has laid my leaf full low, O!
O raging Fortune's withering blast
Has laid my leaf full low, O!

My stem was fair, my bud was green,
My blossom sweet did blow, O!
The dew fell fresh, the sun rose mild,
And made my branches grow, O!

But luckless Fortune's northern storms
Laid a' my blossoms low, O!

But luckless Fortune's northern storms
Laid a' my blossoms low, O!

Impromptu "I'll go and be a Sodger."2

O WHY the deuce should I repine,
And be an ill foreboder?
I'm twenty-three, and five feet nine,
I'll go and be a sodger!

I gat some gear wi' mickle carc,
I held it weel thegither;

But now it's gane, and something mair—
I'll go and be a sodger!

1 This is of the same period and inspiration.

The hypochondria is vanquished

in this piece, assigned by Mr Scott Douglas to Burns's return home from Irvine, in 1782.

"NO CHURCHMAN AM I"

Song "No Churchman am I.”1

Tune-"Prepare, my dear Brethren, to the tavern let's fly."

No churchman am I for to rail and to write,
No statesman nor soldier to plot or to fight,
No sly man of business contriving a snare,
For a big-belly'd bottle's the whole of my care.

The peer I don't envy, I give him his bow;
I scorn not the peasant, though ever so low;
But a club of good fellows, like those that are here,
And a bottle like this, are my glory and care.

Here passes the squire on his brother-his horse;
There centum per centum, the cit with his purse;
But see you the Crown how it waves in the air?
There a big belly'd bottle still eases my care.

The wife of my bosom, alas! she did die;
For sweet consolation to church I did fly;
I found that old Solomon provèd it fair,
That a big-belly'd bottle's a cure for all care.

I once was persuaded a venture to make;
A letter inform'd me that all was to wreck;
But the pursy old landlord just waddl'd upstairs,
With a glorious bottle that ended my cares.

"Life's cares they are comforts -a maxim laid down

By the Bard, what d'ye call him, that wore the black gown; And faith I agree with th' old prig to a hair,

For a big-belly'd bottle's a heav'n of a care.

1 Written on a hint from an old song with a similar refrain. "A Club of good fellows," whereof Burns was part, was formed at Tarbolton, for purposes

of convivial discussion, before Burns went to Irvine. He therefore calls his admired Young "an old prig."

MY FATHER WAS A FARMER

A STANZA ADDED IN A MASON LODGE.

Then fill up a bumper and make it o'erflow,
And honours masonic prepare for to throw;
May ev'ry true Brother of the Compass and Square
Have a big-belly'd bottle when harass'd with care.

My Father was a Farmer.1

Tune-"The weaver and his shuttle, O."

My father was a farmer upon the Carrick border, O,
And carefully he bred me in decency and order, O;

He bade me act a manly part, though I had ne'er a farthing, O; For without an honest manly heart, no man was worth regarding, O.

Then out into the world my course I did determine, O;

Tho' to be rich was not my wish, yet to be great was charming, O;

My talents they were not the worst, nor yet my education, O: Resolv'd was I at least to try to mend my situation, O.

In many a way, and vain essay, I courted Fortune's favour, O; Some cause unseen still stept between, to frustrate each endeavour, O;

Sometimes by foes I was o'erpower'd, sometimes by friends forsaken, O;

And when my hope was at the top, I still was worst mistaken, O.

Then sore harass'd, and tir'd at last, with Fortune's vain delusion, O,

I dropt my schemes, like idle dreams, and came to this conclusion, O;

1 Here we have the festal, not the moral side of life at Tarbolton or at Irvine, a melancholy reaction from melancholy.

The omission of the final "O" of each line by Scott Douglas rather

destroys the force of the poet's description of this piece as a "wild rhapsody." In the first line of verse 2 world is a dissyllable: the addition of at length in some editions is unnecessary.

MY FATHER WAS A FARMER

The past was bad, and the future hid, its good or ill untried, O; But the present hour was in my pow'r, and so I would enjoy it, Ó.

No help, nor hope, nor view had I, nor person to befriend me, O; So I must toil, and sweat, and moil, and labour to sustain me, 0;

To plough and sow, to reap and mow, my father bred me early, O;

For one, he said, to labour bred, was a match for Fortune fairly, O.

Thus all obscure, unknown, and poor, thro' life I'm doom'd to wander, O,

Till down my weary bones I lay in everlasting slumber, 0: No view nor care, but shun whate'er might breed me pain or sorrow, O;

0;

I live to-day as well's I may, regardless of to-morrow, 0.

But cheerful still, I am as well as a monarch in his palace, O, Tho' Fortune's frown still hunts me down, with all her wonted malice, 0:

I make indeed my daily bread, but ne'er can make it farther, O: But as daily bread is all I need, I do not much regard her, O.

When sometimes by my labour, I earn a little money, O,
Some unforeseen misfortune comes gen'rally upon me, O;
Mischance, mistake, or by neglect, or my goodnatur'd folly, O:
But come what will, I've sworn it still, I'll ne'er be melan-
choly, O.

All you who follow wealth and power with unremitting ardour, O,

The more in this you look for bliss, you leave your view the farther, O:

Had you the wealth Potosi boasts, or nations to adore you, O, A cheerful honest-hearted clown I will prefer before you, O.