EPISTLE TO MAJOR LOGAN.

HAIL, thairm' inspirin' rattlin' Willie !"
Though Fortune's road be rough and hilly,
To every fiddling, rhyming billie,
We never heed,

But tak' it like the unbacked filly,
Proud o' her speed.

When idly goavan3 whiles we saunter,
Yirr, Fancy barks, awa' we canter,
Up hill, down brae, till some mischanter,*
Some black bog-hole,
Arrests us, then the scaith and banter
We're forced to thole. 5

Hale be your heart! hale be your fiddle!
Lang may your elbuck jink and diddle,"
To cheer you through the weary widdle"
O' this wild warl',

Until you on a cummock driddle

A grey-haired carl.

Come wealth, come poortith," late or soon,
Heaven send your heart-strings aye in tune,
And screw your temper-pins aboon,

A fifth or mair,

The melancholious, lazy croon

10

O' cankrie care!

7 Struggle. These three lines also occur in the Second Epistle to Davie.

8 Until you hobble on a staff.

10 Drone.

9 Poverty. 11 Gadflies.

TO MAJOR LOGAN.

2

My hand waled' curse keep hard in chase
The harpy, hoodock, purse-proud race,
Wha count on poortith as disgrace-

Their tuneless hearts!

May fireside discords jar a bass

To a' their parts!

But come, your hand, my careless brither-
I' the ither warl', if there 's anither—
And that there is I've little swither 3
About the matter-

We cheek for chow shall jog thegither,
I'se ne'er bid better.

We've faults and failings-granted clearly,
We're frail backsliding mortals merely,
Eve's bonny squad, priests wytes them sheerly,"
For our grand fa';

But still-but still-I like them dearly-
God bless them a'!

7

Ochon! for poor Castalian drinkers,
When they fa' foul o' earthly jinkers,
The witching, cursed, delicious blinkers
Ha'e put me hyte, 9

And gart me weet my waukrife winkers,

Wi' girnin'" spite.

10

But by yon moon !-and that's high swearin'-
And every star within my hearin'!

And by her een wha was a dear ane

I'll ne'er forget;

I hope to gi'e the jads 12 a clearin'

In fair play yet.

197

198 TO THE GUIDWIFE OF WAUCHOPE HOUSE.

Faites mes baisemains respectueuses
To sentimental sister Susie,

And honest Lucky; no to roose1 ye,
Ye may be proud,

That sic a couple Fate allows ye

To grace your blood.

Nae mair at present can I measure,

And trouth my rhymin' ware's nae treasure;
But when in Äyr, some half-hour's leisure,
Bet light, be 't dark,

Sir Bard will do himsel' the pleasure

To call at Park.

Mossgiel, Oct. 30, 1786..

ROBERT BURNS.

TO THE GUIDWIFE OF WAUCHOPE HOUSE.

GUIDWIFE,

1 Praise.

I mind it weel, in early date,

When I was beardless, young, and blate,3

And first could thrash the barn,

Or haud a yokin' at the pleugh;

4

And though forfoughten sair enuegh,

Yet unco proud to learn:

When first amang the yellow corn

A man I reckoned

was

And wi' the lave3 ilk merry morn
Could rank my rig and lass,

Still shearing, and clearing,
The tither stooked raw,,
Wi' claivers and haivers
Wearing the day awa'.

Even then a wish, (I mind its power,)
A wish that to my latest hour

Shall strongly heave my breast-
That I, for poor auld Scotland's sake,
Some usefu' plan or beuk could make,
Or sing a sang at least.

2 Mrs. Scott, of Wauchope, was a lady of great taste and talent. She was niece to Mrs. Cockburn, who wrote a version of "Flowers of the Forest."

7

3 Bashful.

• Fatigued,

6 Idle stories and gossip.

Rest.

TO THE GUIDWIFE OF WAUCHOPE HOUSE. 199

1 Barley.

The rough burr-thistle, spreading wide
Amang the bearded bear,'

I turned the weeder clips aside,
And spared the symbol dear:
No nation, no station,

My envy e'er could raise,
A Scot still, but blot still,
I knew nae higher praise.

But still the elements o' sang,
In formless jumble, right and wrang,
Wild floated in my brain;
Till on that hairst" I said before,
My partner in the merry core,
She roused the forming strain:
I see her yet, the sonsie quean,
That lighted up my jingle,
Her witching smile, her pauky een,
That gart my heart-strings tingle
I firèd, inspired,

At every kindling keek,"
But bashing, and dashing,
I feared aye to speak.

3

Health to the sex! ilk guid chiel says,
Wi' merry dance in winter days,
And we to share in common:
The gust o' joy, the balm of woe,
The saul o' life, the heaven below,
Is rapture-giving woman.

Ye surly sumphs, who hate the name,
Be mindfu' o' your mither;

She, honest woman, may think shame
That ye
're connected with her.

Ye're wae men, ye're nae men,
That slight the lovely dears;.
To shame ye, disclaim ye,

Ilk honest birkie' swears.

For you, no bred to barn and byre,
Wha sweetly tune the Scottish lyre,
Thanks to you for your line:
The marlèd plaid ye kindly spare
By me should gratefully be ware;
"Twad please me to the nine.

+ Made.
7 Blockheads.

10 Worn

2 Harvest.

5 Glance.

8 Woeful.

10

3 Comely lass.

6 Fellow.
9 Fellow.

I'd be mair vauntie' o' my hap,2
Douce hingin' owre my curple,
Than ony ermine ever lap,
Or proud imperial purple.
Fareweel, then, lang heal, then,
And plenty be your fa';
May losses and crosses

Ne'er at your hallan1 ca'!

EPISTLE TO WILLIAM CREECH.5

WRITTEN AT SELKIRK.

AULD chuckie Reekie's sair distrest,
Down droops her ance weel-burnisht crest,
Nae joy her bonnie buskit nest

Can yield ava,

Her darling bird that she lo'es best,

Willie's awa'!

Oh, Willie was a witty wight,

And had o' things an unco slight; 7
Auld Reekie aye he keepit tight

An' trig an' braw:

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

The stiffest o' them a' he bowed;
The bauldest o' them a' he cowed;
They durst nae mair than he allowed,
That was a law:

We've lost a birkie weel worth gowd,—

9

Willie's awa'!

Now gawkies, tawpies, 10 gowks, and fools,
Frae colleges and boarding-schools,

May sprout like simmer puddock-stools"
In glen or shaw;

He wha could brush them down to mools,

2

2 Proud.

4 Porch.

Willie's awa'!

2 Covering.

Bravely hanging.

5 The most celebrated publisher in Edinburgh. He published the works of all the best Scottish authors known at the close of the eighteenth century. He was himself a writer. He published Edinburgh Fugitive

Pieces" in 1815.

66

• Edinburgh.

9 Simpletons.

12 The dust.

7 Knowledge.

10 Sluts.

8 Fellow.
11 Toadstools.