EPISTLE TO J. LAPRAIK

Epistle to J. Lapraik.1

AN OLD SCOTTISH BARD.-APRIL 1, 1785.
WHILE briers an' woodbines budding green,
An' paitricks scraichina loud at e'en,
An' morning poussie whiddin' seen,
Inspire my muse,

This freedom, in an unknown frien',
I pray excuse.

On Fasten-e'en we had a rockin,d
To ca' the crack and weave our stockin;
And there was muckle fun and jokin,
Ye need na doubt;

At length we had a hearty yokin1
At sang about.

There was ae sang, amang the rest,
Aboon them a' it pleas'd me best,
That some kind husband had addrest

To some sweet wife;

It thirl'd the heart-strings thro' the breast,2
A' to the life.

I've scarce heard ought describ'd sae weel,
What gen'rous, manly bosoms feel; 8
Thought I "can this be Pope, or Steele,
Or Beattie's wark?"

They tauld me 'twas an odd kind chiel1
About Muirkirk.

partridges crying. b hare scampering.
d friendly gathering. • hold a talk.
8 thrilled.

1 The song admired by Burns was pilfered by Lapraik from (or contributed by him to) The Weekly Magazine, Oct. 14, 1773 (Chambers). The poem here is Burns's Ars Poetica: possibly his rhymes had been censured by some collegian. Otherwise it is not easy to account for his attack on Greek, a language of which he had no more than

• night before Ash Wednesday. I set to.

h fellow.

Scott, and perhaps less than Shakspeare. Lapraik published his verses in 1788; they are collected by Burnsians.

The text is that of the Kilmarnock edition. Some variations in the Common-place Book are noted below.

2 "It touch'd the feelings o' the breast."

8 "The style sae tastie and genteel."

1

EPISTLE TO J. LAPRAIK

It pat me fidgin-fain to hear't,
An' sae about him there I speir't;
Then a' that kent him round declar'd
He had ingine;1

That nane excell'd it, few cam near❜t,
It was sae fine:

That, set him to a pint of ale,
An' either douced or merry tale,

Or rhymes an' sangs he'd made himsel,
Or witty catches-

'Tween Inverness an' Teviotdale,

He had few matches.

Then up I gat, an' swoor an aith,
Tho' I should pawn my pleugh an' graith,'
Or die a cadger pownie's death,

At some dyke-back,

A pint an' gill I'd gie them baith,
To hear your crack.b

But, first an' foremost, I should tell,
Amaist as soon as I could spell,
I to the crambo-jingle1 fell;2

Tho' rude an' rough—

Yet crooning' to a body's sel's

Does weel eneugh.

I am nae poet, in a sense;

But just a rhymer like by chance,
An' hae to learning nae pretence;
Yet, what the matter?

Whene'er my muse does on me glance,
I jingle at her.

EPISTLE TO J. LAPRAIK

Your critic-folk may cock their nose,
And say, "How can you e'er propose,
You wha ken hardly verse frae prose,
To mak a sang?"

But, by your leaves, my learnèd foes,
Ye're maybe wrang.

What's a' your jargon o' your schools-
Your Latin names for horns an' stools?
If honest Nature made you fools,

What sairs your grammars?

Ye'd better taen up spades and shools,
Or knappin-hammers.b

A set o' dull, conceited hashes c1
Confuse their brains in college-classes!
They gang in stirks, and come out asses,
Plain truth to speak;

An' syne they think to climb Parnassus
By dint o' Greek!

Gie me ae spark o' nature's fire,

That's a' the learning I desire;

Then tho' I drudge thro' dub an' mire

At pleugh or cart,

My muse, tho' hamely in attire,

May touch the heart.

O for a spunk o' Allan's glee,
Or Fergusson's, the bauld an' slee,
Or bright Lapraik's, my friend to be,
If I can hit it!

That would be lear eneugh for me,

If I could get it.

a

serves.

b stone-breakers' hammers. • blockheads,

1"A set of silly, senseless asses."

young bullocks,

EPISTLE TO J. LAPRAIK

Now, sir, if ye hae friends enow,
Tho' real friends I b'lieve are few;
Yet, if your catalogue be fu',

I'se no insist:

But, gif ye want ae friend that's true,
I'm on your list.

I winna blawb about mysel,

As ill I like my fauts to tell;

But friends, an' folk that wish me well,

They sometime roose me;

Tho' I maun own, as mony still

As far abuse me.

There's ae wee faut they whiles lay to me,
I like the lasses-Gude forgie me!
For mony a plackd they wheedle frae me
At dance or fair;

Maybe some ither thing they gie me,
They weel can spare.

But Mauchline Race or Mauchline Fair,
I should be proud to meet you there:
We'se gie ae night's discharge to care,
If we forgather;

An' hae a swap o' rhymin-ware
Wi' ane anither.

The four-gill chap, we'se gar1 him clatter,
An' kirsen him wi' reekin water;

Syne we'll sit down an' tak our whitter,
To cheer our heart;

An' faith, we'se be acquainted better

Before we part.

SECOND EPISTLE TO J. LAPRAIK

Awa ye selfish, war'ly race,

a

Wha think that havins, sense,

an' grace,

Ev'n love an' friendship should give place
To catch-the-plack"!

I dinna like to see your face,

Nor hear your crack.

But ye whom social pleasure charms
Whose hearts the tide of kindness warms,
Who hold your being on the terms,
"Each aid the others,"

Come to my bowl, come to my arms,
My friends, my brothers!

But, to conclude my lang epistle,
As my auld pen's worn to the gristle,
Twa lines frae you wad gar me fissle,
Who am most fervent,
While I can either sing or whistle,

Your friend and servant.

Second Epistle to J. Lapraik.1

⚫ manners,

APRIL 21, 1785.

WHILE new-ca'd kye rowtd at the stake
An' pownies reek in pleugh or braik,
This hour on e'enin's edge I take,

To own I'm debtor

To honest-hearted, auld Lapraik,
For his kind letter.

b

money-making.

d newly-calved (or driven) kine roar.

1 The date is given, April 21, 1785. Burns harps, as usual, on his lack of envy of the rich.

⚫ fidget with joy.
• harrow.

Text also from Kilmarnock edition; the more important variations of the Common-place Book are noticed below.