THIRD EPISTLE TO J. LAPRAIK.

Trowth, they had muckle for to blame!
"Twas neither broken wing nor limb,
But twa-three draps about the wame,

Scarce through the feathers;
An' baith a yellow George to claim,

And thole' their blethers! 2

It pits me aye as mad's a hare;
So I can rhyme nor write nae mair;
But pennyworths again is fair,

When time's expedient:

Meanwhile I am, respected Sir,

Yours most obedient.

181

THIRD EPISTLE TO JOHN LAPRAIK.

1 Suffer.

Sept. 13, 1785.

GUID speed an' furder to you, Johnny,
Guid health, hale han's, an' weather bonny;
Now when ye're nickan3 down fu' canny

The staff o' bread,

May ye ne'er want a stoup o' bran'y
To clear your head.

May Boreas never thresh your rigs,
Nor kick your rickles aff their legs,
Sendin' the stuff o'er muirs an' haggs1
Like drivin' wrack;

But may the tapmast grain that wags
Come to the sack.

It's now twa month that I'm your debtor,
For your braw, nameless, dateless letter,
Abusin' me for harsh ill nature

4 Morasses. 7 A knife.

But mair profane.

But let the kirk-folk ring their bells,
Let's sing about our noble sel's;
We'll cry nae jads frae heathen hills'
To help or roose us,

2

But browster wives an' whisky-stills,
They are the Muses.

Your friendship, sir, I winna quat it,
An', if ye mak' objections at it,

Then han' in nieve" some day we'll knot it,
An' witness take,

An' when wi' usquabae we've wat it

5

It winna break.

But if the beast and branks be spared
Till kye be gaun without the herd,
An' a' the vittel in the yard,

An' theekit right,

I mean your ingle-side to guard

Ae winter night.

Then muse-inspirin' aqua-vitæ

Shall make us baith sae blythe an' witty,

Till ye forget ye're auld an' gatty,7

As ye

were nine

An' be as canty

year less than thretty,
Sweet ane an' twenty!

But stooks are cowpet 8 wi' the blast,
An' now the sinn keeks" in the west,
Then I maun rin amang the rest

An' quat my chanter;

Sae I subscribe myself, in haste,

Yours, RAB THE RANTER.

EPISTLE TO THE REV. JOHN M MATH,

ONE OF THE PRESBYTERIAN CLERGY WHO PREACHED AGAINST THE

66

""
AULD-LIGHT DOCTRINES.

Accompanied by a copy of "Holy Willie's Prayer."

My Musie, tired wi' mony a sonnet

On gown, an' ban', an' douse black bonnet,
Is grown right eerie now she's done it,

Lest they should blame her,

An' rouse their holy thunder on it

And anathem her.

I own 'twas rash, an' rather hardy,
That I, a simple, country bardie,
Should meddle wi' a pack sae sturdy,
Wha, if they ken me,

Can easy, wi' a single wordie,

But I

Lowse hell upon me.

gae mad at their grimaces,

Their sighin', cantin', grace-proud faces,
Their three-mile prayers, an hauf-mile graces,
Their raxin' conscience,

3

Whase greed, revenge, and pride disgraces
Waur nor their nonsense.

There's Gawn,4 misca't waur than a beast,
Wha has mair honour in his breast

Than mony scores as guid's the priest

An'

Wha sae abus't him.

may a bard no crack his jest

What way they've use❜t him?

See him, the poor man's friend in need,
The gentleman in word an' deed,

An' shall his fame an' honour bleed

By worthless skellums,"

An' not a Muse erect her head

To cowe the bellums ? 6

O Pope, had I thy satire's darts,
To give the rascals their deserts!
I'd rip their rotten, hollow hearts,
An' tell aloud

Their jugglin' hocus-pocus arts

1 Run riotously.

Gavin Hamilton, Esq.

To cheat the crowd.

2 Timid.
5 Wretches.

3 Elastic.
6 Fellows.

183

God knows I'm no the thing I should be,
Nor am I even the thing I could be,
But twenty times, I rather would be
An atheist clean,

Than under gospel colours hid be
Just for a screen.

An honest man may like a glass,
An honest man may like a lass,
But mean revenge, an' malice fause
He'll still disdain,

An' then cry zeal for gospel laws,
Like some we ken.

They take religion in their mouth;
They talk o' mercy, grace, an' truth,
For what?to gie their malice skouth1
On some puir wight,

An' hunt him down, o'er right an' ruth,
To ruin straight.

All hail, Religion! maid divine!
Pardon a muse sae mean as mine,
Who, in her rough, imperfect line

Thus daurs to name thee;

To stigmatize false friends of thine

Can ne'er defame thee.

Though blotch't an foul wi' mony a stain, An' far unworthy of thy train,

With trembling voice I tune my strain

To join with those

Who boldly daur thy cause maintain

TO JOHN GOUDIE.

Sir, in that circle you are named;'
Sir, in that circle you are famed;

An' some, by whom your doctrine's blamed,
(Which gi'es you honour,)

Even, sir, by them your heart's esteemed,
An' winning manner.

Pardon this freedom I have ta'en,
An' if impertinent I've been,
Impute it not, good sir, in ane

Whase heart ne'er wranged ye,

But to his utmost would befriend

Ought that belanged t'ye.

185

EPISTLE TO JOHN GOUDIE, KILMARNOCK,

ON THE PUBLICATION OF HIS ESSAYS."

O GOUDIE! terror of the Whigs,3
Dread of black coats and reverend wigs,
Sour Bigotry, on her last legs,

Girnin',4 looks back,

Wishin' the ten Egyptian plagues

Wad seize you quick.

Poor gapin', glowrin' Superstition,
Waes me! she's in a sad condition;
Fie! bring Black Jock, her state physician,
To see her water:

Alas! there's ground o' great suspicion

She'll ne'er get better.

Auld Orthodoxy lang did grapple,
But now she's got an unco ripple;"

Mr. M'Math preached against the severe Calvinistic doctrines called the "Auld Light."

2 Mr. John Goldie, or Goudie, a tradesman in Kilmarnock, had published a series of essays relating to the authority of the Holy Scriptures. It was the publication of the second edition of this work in 1785 which called forth this epistle from Burns.

3 The "Auld Church portion of the Kirk of Scotland, known still to the religious world as high Calvinists. They held the terrible doctrine of a particular election by God of some to be saved and others to be for ever lost; a superstition in an irrevocable destiny somewhat resembling that of the heathen Greeks of old. The New Light' believers had more rational and worthier views of the Divine justice and goodness. 5 A Presbyterian clergyman, the Rev. J. Russell.

Grinning.
Pain in back.