Chapter 31

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CXLVI.

TO CHLORIS.

[Chloris was a Nithsdale beauty. Love and sorrow were strongly mingled in her early history: that she did not look so lovely in other eyes as she did in those of Burns is well known: but he had much of the taste of an artist, and admired the elegance of her form, and the harmony of her motion, as much as he did her blooming face and sweet voice.]

'Tis Friendship's pledge, my young, fair friend, Nor thou the gift refuse, Nor with unwilling ear attend The moralizing muse.

Since thou in all thy youth and charms, Must bid the world adieu, (A world 'gainst peace in constant arms) To join the friendly few.

Since, thy gay morn of life o'ercast, Chill came the tempest's lower; (And ne'er misfortune's eastern blast Did nip a fairer flower.)

Since life's gay scenes must charm no more, Still much is left behind; Still nobler wealth hast thou in store-- The comforts of the mind!

Thine is the self-approving glow, On conscious honour's part; And, dearest gift of heaven below, Thine friendship's truest heart.

The joys refin'd of sense and taste, With every muse to rove: And doubly were the poet blest, These joys could he improve.

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CXLVII.

POETICAL INSCRIPTION

FOR AN ALTAR TO INDEPENDENCE.

[It was the fashion of the feverish times of the French Revolution to plant trees of Liberty, and raise altars to Independence. Heron of Kerroughtree, a gentleman widely esteemed in Galloway, was about to engage in an election contest, and these noble lines served the purpose of announcing the candidate's sentiments on freedom.]

Thou of an independent mind, With soul resolv'd, with soul resign'd; Prepar'd Power's proudest frown to brave, Who wilt not be, nor have a slave; Virtue alone who dost revere, Thy own reproach alone dost fear, Approach this shrine, and worship here.

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CXLVIII.

THE HERON BALLADS.

[BALLAD FIRST.]

[This is the first of several party ballads which Burns wrote to serve Patrick Heron, of Kerroughtree, in two elections for the Stewartry of Kirkcudbright, in which he was opposed, first, by Gordon of Balmaghie, and secondly, by the Hon. Montgomery Stewart. There is a personal bitterness in these lampoons, which did not mingle with the strains in which the poet recorded the contest between Miller and Johnstone. They are printed here as matters of poetry, and I feel sure that none will be displeased, and some will smile.]

I.

Whom will you send to London town, To Parliament and a' that? Or wha in a' the country round The best deserves to fa' that? For a' that, and a' that; Thro Galloway and a' that; Where is the laird or belted knight That best deserves to fa' that?

II.

Wha sees Kerroughtree's open yett, And wha is't never saw that? Wha ever wi' Kerroughtree meets And has a doubt of a' that? For a' that, and a' that, Here's Heron yet for a' that, The independent patriot, The honest man, an' a' that.

III.

Tho' wit and worth in either sex, St. Mary's Isle can shaw that; Wi' dukes and lords let Selkirk mix, And weel does Selkirk fa' that. For a' that, and a' that, Here's Heron yet for a' that! The independent commoner Shall be the man for a' that.

IV.

But why should we to nobles jouk, And it's against the law that; For why, a lord may be a gouk, Wi' ribbon, star, an' a' that. For a' that, an' a' that, Here's Heron yet for a' that! A lord may be a lousy loun, Wi' ribbon, star, an' a' that.

V.

A beardless boy comes o'er the hills, Wi' uncle's purse an' a' that; But we'll hae ane frae 'mang oursels, A man we ken, an' a' that. For a' that, an' a' that, Here's Heron yet for a' that! For we're not to be bought an' sold Like naigs, an' nowt, an' a' that.

VI.

Then let us drink the Stewartry, Kerroughtree's laird, an' a' that, Our representative to be, For weel he's worthy a' that. For a' that, an' a' that, Here's Heron yet for a' that, A House of Commons such as he, They would be blest that saw that.

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CXLIX.

THE HERON BALLADS.

[BALLAD SECOND.]

[In this ballad the poet gathers together, after the manner of "Fy! let us a' to the bridal," all the leading electors of the Stewartry, who befriended Heron, or opposed him; and draws their portraits in the colours of light or darkness, according to the complexion of their politics. He is too severe in most instances, and in some he is venomous. On the Earl of Galloway's family, and on the Murrays of Broughton and Caillie, as well as on Bushby of Tinwaldowns, he pours his hottest satire. But words which are unjust, or undeserved, fall off their victims like rain-drops from a wild-duck's wing. The Murrays of Broughton and Caillie have long borne, from the vulgar, the stigma of treachery to the cause of Prince Charles Stewart: from such infamy the family is wholly free: the traitor, Murray, was of a race now extinct; and while he was betraying the cause in which so much noble and gallant blood was shed, Murray of Broughton and Caillie was performing the duties of an honourable and loyal man: he was, like his great-grandson now, representing his native district in parliament.]

THE ELECTION.

I.

Fy, let us a' to Kirkcudbright, For there will be bickerin' there; For Murray's[112] light horse are to muster, And O, how the heroes will swear! An' there will be Murray commander, And Gordon[113] the battle to win; Like brothers they'll stand by each other, Sae knit in alliance an' kin.

II.

An' there will be black-lippit Johnnie,[114] The tongue o' the trump to them a'; And he get na hell for his haddin' The deil gets na justice ava'; And there will Kempleton's birkie, A boy no sae black at the bane, But, as for his fine nabob fortune, We'll e'en let the subject alane.

III.

An' there will be Wigton's new sheriff, Dame Justice fu' brawlie has sped, She's gotten the heart of a Bushby, But, Lord, what's become o' the head? An' there will be Cardoness,[115] Esquire, Sae mighty in Cardoness' eyes; A wight that will weather damnation, For the devil the prey will despise.

IV.

An' there will be Douglasses[116] doughty, New christ'ning towns far and near; Abjuring their democrat doings, By kissing the ---- o' a peer; An' there will be Kenmure[117] sae gen'rous, Whose honour is proof to the storm, To save them from stark reprobation, He lent them his name to the firm.

V.

But we winna mention Redcastle,[118] The body, e'en let him escape! He'd venture the gallows for siller, An' 'twere na the cost o' the rape. An' where is our king's lord lieutenant, Sae fam'd for his gratefu' return? The billie is gettin' his questions, To say in St. Stephen's the morn.

VI.

An' there will be lads o' the gospel, Muirhead,[119] wha's as gude as he's true; An' there will be Buittle's[120] apostle, Wha's more o' the black than the blue; An' there will be folk from St. Mary's,[121] A house o' great merit and note, The deil ane but honours them highly,-- The deil ane will gie them his vote!

VII.

An' there will be wealthy young Richard,[122] Dame Fortune should hing by the neck; For prodigal, thriftless, bestowing, His merit had won him respect: An' there will be rich brother nabobs, Tho' nabobs, yet men of the first, An' there will be Collieston's[123] whiskers, An' Quintin, o' lads not the worst.

VIII.

An' there will be stamp-office Johnnie,[124] Tak' tent how ye purchase a dram; An' there will be gay Cassencarrie, An' there will be gleg Colonel Tam; An' there will be trusty Kerroughtree,[125] Whose honour was ever his law, If the virtues were pack'd in a parcel, His worth might be sample for a'.

IX.

An' can we forget the auld major, Wha'll ne'er be forgot in the Greys, Our flatt'ry we'll keep for some other, Him only 'tis justice to praise. An' there will be maiden Kilkerran, And also Barskimming's gude knight, An' there will be roarin' Birtwhistle, Wha luckily roars in the right.

X.

An' there, frae the Niddisdale borders, Will mingle the Maxwells in droves; Teugh Johnnie, staunch Geordie, an' Walie, That griens for the fishes an' loaves; An' there will be Logan Mac Douall,[126] Sculdudd'ry an' he will be there, An' also the wild Scot of Galloway, Sodgerin', gunpowder Blair.

XI.

Then hey the chaste interest o' Broughton, An' hey for the blessings 'twill bring? It may send Balmaghie to the Commons, In Sodom 'twould make him a king; An' hey for the sanctified M----y, Our land who wi' chapels has stor'd; He founder'd his horse among harlots, But gied the auld naig to the Lord.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 112: Murray, of Broughton and Caillie.]

[Footnote 113: Gordon of Balmaghie.]

[Footnote 114: Bushby, of Tinwald-Downs.]

[Footnote 115: Maxwell, of Cardoness.]

[Footnote 116: The Douglasses, of Orchardtown and Castle-Douglas.]

[Footnote 117: Gordon, afterwards Viscount Kenmore.]

[Footnote 118: Laurie, of Redcastle.]

[Footnote 119: Morehead, Minister of Urr.]

[Footnote 120: The Minister of Buittle.]

[Footnote 121: Earl of Selkirk's family.]

[Footnote 122: Oswald, of Auchuncruive.]

[Footnote 123: Copland, of Collieston and Blackwood.]

[Footnote 124: John Syme, of the Stamp-office.]

[Footnote 125: Heron, of Kerroughtree.]

[Footnote 126: Colonel Macdouall, of Logan.]

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CL.

THE HERON BALLADS.

[BALLAD THIRD.]

[This third and last ballad was written on the contest between Heron and Stewart, which followed close on that with Gordon. Heron carried the election, but was unseated by the decision of a Committee of the House of Commons: a decision which it is said he took so much to heart that it affected his health, and shortened his life.]

AN EXCELLENT NEW SONG.

Tune.--"_Buy broom besoms._"

Wha will buy my troggin, Fine election ware; Broken trade o' Broughton, A' in high repair. Buy braw troggin, Frae the banks o' Dee; Wha wants troggin Let him come to me.

There's a noble Earl's[127] Fame and high renown For an auld sang-- It's thought the gudes were stown. Buy braw troggin, &c.

Here's the worth o' Broughton[128] In a needle's ee; Here's a reputation Tint by Balmaghie. Buy braw troggin, &c.

Here's an honest conscience Might a prince adorn; Frae the downs o' Tinwald--[129] So was never worn. Buy braw troggin, &c.

Here's its stuff and lining, Cardoness'[130] head; Fine for a sodger A' the wale o' lead. Buy braw troggin, &c.

Here's a little wadset Buittle's[131] scrap o' truth, Pawn'd in a gin-shop Quenching holy drouth. Buy braw troggin, &c.

Here's armorial bearings Frae the manse o' Urr;[132] The crest, an auld crab-apple Rotten at the core. Buy braw troggin, &c.

Here is Satan's picture, Like a bizzard gled, Pouncing poor Redcastle,[133] Sprawlin' as a taed. Buy braw troggin, &c.

Here's the worth and wisdom Collieston[134] can boast; By a thievish midge They had been nearly lost. Buy braw troggin, &c.

Here is Murray's fragments O' the ten commands; Gifted by black Jock[135] To get them aff his hands. Buy braw troggin, &c.

Saw ye e'er sic troggin? If to buy ye're slack, Hornie's turnin' chapman, He'll buy a' the pack. Buy braw troggin, Frae the banks o' Dee; Wha wants troggin Let him come to me.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 127: The Earl of Galloway.]

[Footnote 128: Murray, of Broughton and Caillie.]

[Footnote 129: Bushby, of Tinwald-downs.]

[Footnote 130: Maxwell, of Cardoness.]

[Footnote 131: The Minister of Buittle.]

[Footnote 132: Morehead, of Urr.]

[Footnote 133: Laurie, of Redcastle.]

[Footnote 134: Copland, of Collieston and Blackwood.]

[Footnote 135: John Bushby, of Tinwald-downs.]

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CLI.

POEM,

ADDRESSED TO

MR. MITCHELL, COLLECTOR OF EXCISE.

DUMFRIES, 1796.

[The gentlemen to whom this very modest, and, under the circumstances, most affecting application for his salary was made, filled the office of Collector of Excise for the district, and was of a kind and generous nature: but few were aware that the poet was suffering both from ill-health and poverty.]

Friend of the Poet, tried and leal, Wha, wanting thee, might beg or steal; Alake, alake, the meikle deil Wi' a' his witches Are at it, skelpin' jig and reel, In my poor pouches!

I modestly fu' fain wad hint it, That one pound one, I sairly want it, If wi' the hizzie down ye sent it, It would be kind; And while my heart wi' life-blood dunted I'd bear't in mind.

So may the auld year gang out moaning To see the new come laden, groaning, Wi' double plenty o'er the loanin To thee and thine; Domestic peace and comforts crowning The hale design.

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POSTSCRIPT.

Ye've heard this while how I've been licket, And by felt death was nearly nicket; Grim loon! he got me by the fecket, And sair me sheuk; But by guid luck I lap a wicket, And turn'd a neuk.

But by that health, I've got a share o't, And by that life, I'm promised mair o't, My hale and weel I'll tak a care o't, A tentier way: Then farewell folly, hide and hair o't, For ance and aye!

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CLII.

TO

MISS JESSY LEWARS,

DUMFRIES.

WITH JOHNSON'S 'MUSICAL MUSEUM.'

[Miss Jessy Lewars watched over the declining days of the poet, with the affectionate reverence of a daughter: for this she has the silent gratitude of all who admire the genius of Burns; she has received more, the thanks of the poet himself, expressed in verses not destined soon to die.]

Thine be the volumes, Jessy fair, And with them take the Poet's prayer; That fate may in her fairest page, With every kindliest, best presage Of future bliss, enrol thy name: With native worth and spotless fame, And wakeful caution still aware Of ill--but chief, man's felon snare; All blameless joys on earth we find, And all the treasures of the mind-- These be thy guardian and reward; So prays thy faithful friend, The Bard.

_June_ 26, 1796.

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CLIII.

POEM ON LIFE,

ADDRESSED TO

COLONEL DE PEYSTER.

DUMFRIES, 1796.

[This is supposed to be the last Poem written by the hand, or conceived by the muse of Burns. The person to whom it is addressed was Colonel of the gentlemen Volunteers of Dumfries, in whose ranks Burns was a private: he was a Canadian by birth, and prided himself on having defended Detroit, against the united efforts of the French and Americans. He was rough and austere, and thought the science of war the noblest of all sciences: he affected a taste for literature, and wrote verses.]

My honoured colonel, deep I feel Your interest in the Poet's weal; Ah! now sma' heart hae I to speel The steep Parnassus, Surrounded thus by bolus, pill, And potion glasses.

O what a canty warld were it, Would pain and care and sickness spare it; And fortune favour worth and merit, As they deserve! (And aye a rowth, roast beef and claret; Syne, wha wad starve?)

Dame Life, tho' fiction out may trick her, And in paste gems and frippery deck her; Oh! flickering, feeble, and unsicker I've found her still, Ay wavering like the willow-wicker, 'Tween good and ill.

Then that curst carmagnole, auld Satan, Watches, like baudrons by a rattan, Our sinfu' saul to get a claut on Wi' felon ire; Syne, whip! his tail ye'll ne'er cast saut on-- He's aff like fire.

Ah Nick! ah Nick! it is na fair, First shewing us the tempting ware, Bright wines and bonnie lasses rare, To put us daft; Syne, weave, unseen, thy spider snare O' hell's damn'd waft.

Poor man, the flie, aft bizzes bye, And aft as chance he comes thee nigh, Thy auld danm'd elbow yeuks wi' joy, And hellish pleasure; Already in thy fancy's eye, Thy sicker treasure!

Soon heels-o'er gowdie! in he gangs, And like a sheep head on a tangs, Thy girning laugh enjoys his pangs And murd'ring wrestle, As, dangling in the wind, he hangs A gibbet's tassel.

But lest you think I am uncivil, To plague you with this draunting drivel, Abjuring a' intentions evil, I quat my pen: The Lord preserve us frae the devil, Amen! amen!

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EPITAPHS, EPIGRAMS, FRAGMENTS,

ETC., ETC.

I.

ON THE AUTHOR'S FATHER.

[William Burness merited his son's eulogiums: he was an example of piety, patience, and fortitude.]

O ye whose cheek the tear of pity stains, Draw near with pious rev'rence and attend! Here lie the loving husband's dear remains, The tender father and the gen'rous friend. The pitying heart that felt for human woe; The dauntless heart that feared no human pride; The friend of man, to vice alone a foe; "For ev'n his failings lean'd to virtue's side."

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II.

ON R.A., ESQ.

[Robert Aiken, Esq., to whom "The Cotter's Saturday Night" is addressed: a kind and generous man.]

Know thou, O stranger to the fame Of this much lov'd, much honour'd name! (For none that knew him need be told) A warmer heart death ne'er made cold.

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III.

ON A FRIEND.

[The name of this friend is neither mentioned nor alluded to in any of the poet's productions.]

An honest man here lies at rest As e'er God with his image blest! The friend of man, the friend of truth; The friend of age, and guide of youth; Few hearts like his, with virtue warm'd, Few heads with knowledge so inform'd: If there's another world, he lives in bliss; If there is none, he made the best of this.

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IV.

FOR GAVIN HAMILTON.

[These lines allude to the persecution which Hamilton endured for presuming to ride on Sunday, and say, "damn it," in the presence of the minister of Mauchline.]

The poor man weeps--here Gavin sleeps, Whom canting wretches blam'd: But with such as he, where'er he be, May I be sav'd or damn'd!

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V.

ON WEE JOHNNY.

HIC JACET WEE JOHNNY.

[Wee Johnny was John Wilson, printer of the Kilmarnock edition of Burns's Poems: he doubted the success of the speculation, and the poet punished him in these lines, which he printed unaware of their meaning.]

Whoe'er thou art, O reader, know, That death has murder'd Johnny! An' here his body lies fu' low-- For saul he ne'er had ony.

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VI.

ON JOHN DOVE,

INNKEEPER, MAUCHLINE.

[John Dove kept the Whitefoord Arms in Mauchline: his religion is made to consist of a comparative appreciation of the liquors he kept.]

Here lies Johnny Pidgeon; What was his religion? Wha e'er desires to ken, To some other warl' Maun follow the carl, For here Johnny Pidgeon had nane!

Strong ale was ablution-- Small beer, persecution, A dram was _memento mori_; But a full flowing bowl Was the saving his soul, And port was celestial glory.

* * * * *

VII.

ON A WAG IN MAUCHLINE.

[This laborious and useful wag was the "Dear Smith, thou sleest pawkie thief," of one of the poet's finest epistles: he died in the West Indies.]

Lament him, Mauchline husbands a', He aften did assist ye; For had ye staid whole weeks awa, Your wives they ne'er had missed ye. Ye Mauchline bairns, as on ye press To school in bands thegither, O tread ye lightly on his grass,-- Perhaps he was your father.

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VIII.

ON A CELEBRATED RULING ELDER.

[Souter Hood obtained the distinction of this Epigram by his impertinent inquiries into what he called the moral delinquencies of Burns.]

Here souter Hood in death does sleep;-- To h--ll, if he's gane thither, Satan, gie him thy gear to keep, He'll haud it weel thegither.

* * * * *

IX.

ON A NOISY POLEMIC.

[This noisy polemic was a mason of the name of James Humphrey: he astonished Cromek by an eloquent dissertation on free grace, effectual-calling, and predestination.]

Below thir stanes lie Jamie's banes: O Death, it's my opinion, Thou ne'er took such a blethrin' b--ch Into thy dark dominion!

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X.

ON MISS JEAN SCOTT.

[The heroine of these complimentary lines lived in Ayr, and cheered the poet with her sweet voice, as well as her sweet looks.]

Oh! had each Scot of ancient times, Been Jeany Scott, as thou art, The bravest heart on English ground Had yielded like a coward!

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XI.

ON A HENPECKED COUNTRY SQUIRE.

[Though satisfied with the severe satire of these lines, the poet made a second attempt.]

As father Adam first was fool'd, A case that's still too common, Here lies a man a woman rul'd, The devil rul'd the woman.

* * * * *

XII.

ON THE SAME.

[The second attempt did not in Burns's fancy exhaust this fruitful subject: he tried his hand again.]

O Death, hadst thou but spared his life, Whom we this day lament, We freely wad exchang'd the wife, And a' been weel content!

Ev'n as he is, cauld in his graff, The swap we yet will do't; Take thou the carlin's carcase aff, Thou'se get the soul to boot.

* * * * *

XIII.

ON THE SAME.

[In these lines he bade farewell to the sordid dame, who lived, it is said, in Netherplace, near Mauchline.]

One Queen Artemisia, as old stories tell, When depriv'd of her husband she loved so well, In respect for the love and affection he'd show'd her, She reduc'd him to dust and she drank up the powder. But Queen Netherplace, of a diff'rent complexion, When call'd on to order the fun'ral direction, Would have eat her dear lord, on a slender pretence, Not to show her respect, but to save the expense.

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XIV.

THE HIGHLAND WELCOME.

[Burns took farewell of the hospitalities of the Scottish Highlands in these happy lines.]