Obrázky na stránke
PDF
ePub

EPIGRAM TO MISS AINSLIE

Epigram to Miss Ainslie in Church.1

FAIR maid, you need not take the hint,

Nor idle texts pursue:

'Twas guilty sinners that he meant,
Not Angels such as you.

Burlesque Lament for the Absence of
William Creech, Publisher.2

3

AULD chuckie Reekie's sair distrest,
Down droops her ance weel burnish'd crest,
Nae joy her bonie buskit nest
Can yield ava,

Her darling bird that she lo'es best-
Willie, 's awa.

O Willie was a witty wight,

And had o' things an unco' sleight,
Auld Reekie aye he keepit tight,
And trig an' braw:

But now they'll busk her like a fright,—
Willie's awa!

The stiffest o' them a' he bow'd,
The bauldest o' them a' he cow'd;

a mother hen.

1 Written in the church at Dunse, while on his Border tour with Robert Ainslie.

2 Sent to Creech from Selkirk, May 13. Burns was making a tour through the Border. A memorial stone, with an inscription, now marks the site of the old inn where Burns wrote. Dr Clarkson, (an ancestor of Scott's Gideon Gray in The Surgeon's Daughter) and Bailie Anderson were drinking with friends, when two drenched horsemen asked leave to join them. "Ane o'

b adorned.

them's gey like a drover," said the servant, and the t'other's mair like a gentleman, may be." "Then," said Dr Clarkson, 'just give them our compliments, and say that ours is a private party." The travellers were Burns and Ainslie, and Dr Clarkson was much vexed when he heard what angel he had failed to entertain. (T. Craig Brown's History of Selkirkshire, ii. 124.)

8 Auld Reekie is the city of Edinburgh.

BURLESQUE LAMENT

They durst nae mair than he allow'd,
That was a law:

We've lost a birkie weel worth gowd;
Willie's awa!

Now gawkies, tawpies, gowks and fools,
Frae colleges and boarding schools,
May sprout like simmer puddock-stools
In glen or shawd;

[ocr errors]

He wha could brush them down to mools®—
Willie, 's awa!

The brethren o' the Commerce-chaumer
May mourn their loss wi' doolfu' clamour;
He was a dictionar and grammar

Among them a';

I fear they'll now mak mony a stammer;
Willie's awa!

Nae mair we see his levee door
Philosophers and poets pour,
And toothy critics by the score,
In bloody raw!

The adjutant o' a' the core

[ocr errors]

Willie, 's awa!

Now worthy Gregory's latin face,
Tytler's and Greenfield's modest grace;
M'Kenzie, Stewart, such a brace

As Rome ne'er saw;

They a' maun meet some ither place,
Willie's awa!

Poor Burns ev'n Scotch Drink canna quicken,
He cheeps' like some bewilder'd chicken
Scar'd frae it's minnie and the cleckin,"

By hoodie-craw;

Grief's gien his heart an unco kickin,
Willie's awa!

[blocks in formation]

NOTE TO MR RENTON

Now ev'ry sour-mou'd girnin blellum,"
And Calvin's folk, are fit to fell him;
Ilk self-conceited critic skellum b

His quill may draw ;

He wha could brawlie ward their bellum-
Willie, 's awa!

Up wimpling stately Tweed I've sped,
And Eden scenes on crystal Jed,
And Ettrick banks, now roaring red,
While tempests blaw;

But every joy and pleasure's fled,
Willie's awa!1

May I be Slander's common speech;
A text for Infamy to preach;
And lastly, streekit out to bleach
In winter snaw;

When I forget thee, WILLIE CREECH,
Tho' far awa!

May never wicked Fortune touzle him!
May never wicked men bamboozle him!
Until a powR as auld's Methusalem
He canty claw!

Then to the blessed new Jerusalem,
Fleet wing awa!

Note to Mr Renton of Lamerton.2

• blockhead.

YOUR billet, Sir, I grant receipt;
Wi' you I'll canter ony gate,
Tho' 'twere a trip to yon blue warl',
Whare birkies march on burning marl:
Then, Sir, God willing, I'll attend ye,
And to his goodness I commend ye.

b wretch.

R. BURNS.

c ward off their attack. d stretched.

1 This verse is a later addition.

2 A relic of the Border tour.

⚫ head.

ELEGY ON "STELLA"

Elegy on "Stella."1

The following poem is the work of some hapless son of the Muses who deserved a better fate. There is a great deal of "The voice of Cona' in his solitary, mournful notes; and had the sentiments been clothed in Shenstone's language, they would have been no discredit even to that elegant poet.-R. B.

STRAIT is the spot and green the sod

From whence my sorrows flow;
And soundly sleeps the ever dear
Inhabitant below.

Pardon my transport, gentle shade,
While o'er the turf I bow;
Thy earthly house is circumscrib'd,
And solitary now.

Not one poor stone to tell thy name,
Or make thy virtues known:
But what avails to me-to thee,
The sculpture of a stone?

I'll sit me down upon this turf,
And wipe the rising tear:
The chill blast passes swiftly by,
And flits around thy bier.

Dark is the dwelling of the dead,
And sad their house of rest:
Low lies the head, by death's cold arms
In awful fold embrac'd.

I saw the grim Avenger stand
Incessant by thy side;
Unseen by thee, his deadly breath
Thy lingering frame destroy'd.

1 From a note-book given by Burns to Mrs Dunlop. Conceivably the piece may have been inspired by a memory of Highland Mary. Burns visited the West Highlands, alone, in June 1787.

Mary was his Phantôme d'Occident. The authorship is dubious; the present editor is inclined to regard the piece as Burns's own.

ELEGY ON "STELLA"

Pale grew the roses on thy cheek,
And wither'd was thy bloom,
Till the slow poison brought thy youth
Untimely to the tomb.

Thus wasted are the ranks of men-
Youth, health, and beauty fall;
The ruthless ruin spreads around,
And overwhelms us all.

Behold where, round thy narrow house,
The graves unnumber'd lie;
The multitude that sleep below
Existed but to die.

Some, with the tottering steps of
Trod down the darksome way;

age,

And some, in youth's lamented prime,
Like thee were torn away:

Yet these, however hard their fate,
Their native earth receives;

Amid their weeping friends they died,
And fill their fathers' graves.

From thy lov'd friends, when first thy heart
Was taught by Heav'n to glow,
Far, far remov'd, the ruthless stroke
Surpris'd, and laid thee low.

At the last limits of our isle,

Wash'd by the western wave, Touch'd by thy fate, a thoughtful bard Sits lonely by thy grave.

Pensive he eyes, before him spread
The deep, outstretch'd and vast;
His mourning notes are borne away
Along the rapid blast.

« PredošláPokračovať »