by Robert Burns
Or point the inconclusive page
Full on the eye.
“Hence, Fullarton, the brave and young;
Hence, Dempster’s zeal-inspired tongue; 170
Hence, sweet, harmonious Beattie sung
His ‘Minstrel lays’;
Or tore, with noble ardour stung,
The sceptic’s bays.
“To lower orders are assign’d 175
The humbler ranks of human-kind,
The rustic bard, the lab’ring hind,
The artisan;
All choose, as various they’re inclin’d,
The various man. 180
“When yellow waves the heavy grain,
The threat’ning storm some strongly rein;
Some teach to meliorate the plain
With tillage-skill;
And some instruct the shepherd-train, 185
Blythe o’er the hill.
“Some hint the lover’s harmless wile;
Some grace the maiden’s artless smile;
Some soothe the lab’rer’s weary toil
For humble gains, 190
And make his cottage-scenes beguile
His cares and pains.
“Some, bounded to a district-space
Explore at large man’s infant race,
To mark the embryotic trace 195
Of rustic bard;
And careful note each opening grace,
A guide and guard.
“Of these am I — Coila my name:
And this district as mine I claim, 200
Where once the Campbells, chiefs of fame,
Held ruling power:
I mark’d thy embryo-tuneful flame,
Thy natal hour.
“With future hope I oft would gaze 205
Fond, on thy little early ways,
Thy rudely, caroll’d, chiming phrase,
In uncouth rhymes;
Fir’d at the simple, artless lays
Of other times. 210
“I saw thee seek the sounding shore,
Delighted with the dashing roar;
Or when the North his fleecy store
Drove thro’ the sky,
I saw grim Nature’s visage hoar 215
Struck thy young eye.
“Or when the deep green-mantled earth
Warm cherish’d ev’ry floweret’s birth,
And joy and music pouring forth
In ev’ry grove; 220
I saw thee eye the general mirth
With boundless love.
“When ripen’d fields and azure skies
Call’d forth the reapers’ rustling noise,
I saw thee leave their ev’ning joys, 225
And lonely stalk,
To vent thy bosom’s swelling rise,
In pensive walk.
“When youthful love, warm-blushing, strong,
Keen-shivering, shot thy nerves along, 230
Those accents grateful to thy tongue,
Th’ adorèd Name,
I taught thee how to pour in song,
To soothe thy flame.
“I saw thy pulse’s maddening play, 235
Wild send thee Pleasure’s devious way,
Misled by Fancy’s meteor-ray,
By passion driven;
But yet the light that led astray
Was light from Heaven. 240
“I taught thy manners-painting strains,
The loves, the ways of simple swains,
Till now, o’er all my wide domains
Thy fame extends;
And some, the pride of Coila’s plains, 245
Become thy friends.
“Thou canst not learn, nor I can show,
To paint with Thomson’s landscape glow;
Or wake the bosom-melting throe,
With Shenstone’s art; 250
Or pour, with Gray, the moving flow
Warm on the heart.
“Yet, all beneath th’ unrivall’d rose,
T e lowly daisy sweetly blows;
Tho’ large the forest’s monarch throws 255
His army shade,
Yet green the juicy hawthorn grows,
Adown the glade.
“Then never murmur nor repine;
Strive in thy humble sphere to shine; 260
And trust me, not Potosi’s mine,
Nor king’s regard,
Can give a bliss o’ermatching thine,
A rustic bard.
“To give my counsels all in one, 265
Thy tuneful flame still careful fan:
Preserve the dignity of Man,
With soul erect;
And trust the Universal Plan
Will all protect. 270
“And wear thou this” — she solemn said,
And bound the holly round my head:
The polish’d leaves and berries red
Did rustling play;
And, like a passing thought, she fled 275
In light away.
Chronological List of Poems
Alphabetical List of Poems
92.
Suppressed Stanzas of “The Vision”
After 18th stanza of the text (at “His native land”): —
WITH secret throes I marked that earth,
That cottage, witness of my birth;
And near I saw, bold issuing forth
In youthful pride,
A Lindsay race of noble worth, 5
Famed far and wide.
Where, hid behind a spreading wood,
An ancient Pict-built mansion stood,
I spied, among an angel brood,
A female pair; 10
Sweet shone their high maternal blood,
And father’s air.
An ancient tower to memory brought
How Dettingen’s bold hero fought;
Still, far from sinking into nought, 15
It owns a lord
Who far in western climates fought,
With trusty sword.
Among the rest I well could spy
One gallant, graceful, martial boy, 20
The soldier sparkled in his eye,
A diamond water.
I blest that noble badge with joy,
That owned me frater.
After 20th stanza of the text (at “Dispensing good”): —
Near by arose a mansion fine 25
The seat of many a muse divine;
Not rustic muses such as mine,
With holly crown’d,
But th’ ancient, tuneful, laurell’d Nine,
From classic ground. 30
I mourn’d the card that Fortune dealt,
To see where bonie Whitefoords dwelt;
But other prospects made me melt,
That village near;
There Nature, Friendship, Love, I felt, 35
Fond-mingling, dear!
Hail! Nature’s pang, more strong than death!
Warm Friendship’s glow, like kindling wrath!
Love, dearer than the parting breath
Of dying friend! 40
Not ev’n with life’s wild devious path,
Your force shall end!
The Power that gave the soft alarms
In blooming Whitefoord’s rosy charms,
Still threats the tiny, feather’d arms, 45
The barbed dart,
While lovely Wilhelmina warms
The coldest heart.
After 21st stanza of the text (at “That, to adore”): —
Where Lugar leaves his moorland plaid,
Where lately Want was idly laid, 50
I markèd busy, bustling Trade,
In fervid flame,
Beneath a Patroness’ aid,
Of noble name.
Wild, countless hills I could survey, 55
And countless flocks as wild as they;
But other scenes did charms display,
That better please,
Where polish’d manners dwe
ll with Gray,
In rural ease. 60
Where Cessnock pours with gurgling sound;
And Irwine, marking out the bound,
Enamour’d of the scenes around,
Slow runs his race,
A name I doubly honour’d found, 65
With knightly grace.
Brydon’s brave ward, I saw him stand,
Fame humbly offering her hand,
And near, his kinsman’s rustic band,
With one accord, 70
Lamenting their late blessed land
Must change its lord.
The owner of a pleasant spot,
Near and sandy wilds, I last did note;
A heart too warm, a pulse too hot 75
At times, o’erran:
But large in ev’ry feature wrote,
Appear’d the Man.
Chronological List of Poems
Alphabetical List of Poems
93.
The Rantin Dog, the Daddie o’t
Tune— “Whare’ll our guidman lie.”
O WHA my babie-clouts will buy?
O wha will tent me when I cry?
Wha will kiss me where I lie?
The rantin’ dog, the daddie o’t.
O wha will own he did the faut? 5
O wha will buy the groanin maut?
O wha will tell me how to ca’t?
The rantin’ dog, the daddie o’t.
When I mount the creepie-chair,
Wha will sit beside me there? 10
Gie me Rob, I’ll seek nae mair,
The rantin’ dog, the daddie o’t.
Wha will crack to me my lane?
Wha will mak me fidgin’ fain?
Wha will kiss me o’er again? 15
The rantin’ dog, the daddie o’t.
Chronological List of Poems
Alphabetical List of Poems
94.
Here’s his Health in Water
Tune— “The Job of Journey-work.”
ALTHO’ my back be at the wa’,
And tho’ he be the fautor;
Altho’ my back be at the wa’,
Yet, here’s his health in water.
O wae gae by his wanton sides, 5
Sae brawlie’s he could flatter;
Till for his sake I’m slighted sair,
And dree the kintra clatter:
But tho’ my back be at the wa’,
And tho’ he be the fautor; 10
But tho’ my back be at the wa’,
Yet here’s his health in water!
Chronological List of Poems
Alphabetical List of Poems
95.
Address to the Unco Guid
My Son, these maxims make a rule,
An’ lump them aye thegither;
The Rigid Righteous is a fool,
The Rigid Wise anither:
The cleanest corn that ere was dight
May hae some pyles o’ caff in;
So ne’er a fellow-creature slight
For random fits o’ daffin.
SOLOMON. — Eccles. ch. vii. verse 16.
O YE wha are sae guid yoursel’,
Sae pious and sae holy,
Ye’ve nought to do but mark and tell
Your neibours’ fauts and folly!
Whase life is like a weel-gaun mill, 5
Supplied wi’ store o’ water;
The heaped happer’s ebbing still,
An’ still the clap plays clatter.
Hear me, ye venerable core,
As counsel for poor mortals 10
That frequent pass douce Wisdom’s door
For glaikit Folly’s portals:
I, for their thoughtless, careless sakes,
Would here propone defences —
Their donsie tricks, their black mistakes, 15
Their failings and mischances.
Ye see your state wi’ theirs compared,
And shudder at the niffer;
But cast a moment’s fair regard,
What maks the mighty differ; 20
Discount what scant occasion gave,
That purity ye pride in;
And (what’s aft mair than a’ the lave),
Your better art o’ hidin.
Think, when your castigated pulse 25
Gies now and then a wallop!
What ragings must his veins convulse,
That still eternal gallop!
Wi’ wind and tide fair i’ your tail,
Right on ye scud your sea-way; 30
But in the teeth o’ baith to sail,
It maks a unco lee-way.
See Social Life and Glee sit down,
All joyous and unthinking,
Till, quite transmugrified, they’re grown 35
Debauchery and Drinking:
O would they stay to calculate
Th’ eternal consequences;
Or your more dreaded hell to state,
Damnation of expenses! 40
Ye high, exalted, virtuous dames,
Tied up in godly laces,
Before ye gie poor Frailty names,
Suppose a change o’ cases;
A dear-lov’d lad, convenience snug, 45
A treach’rous inclination —
But let me whisper i’ your lug,
Ye’re aiblins nae temptation.
Then gently scan your brother man,
Still gentler sister woman; 50
Tho’ they may gang a kennin wrang,
To step aside is human:
One point must still be greatly dark, —
The moving Why they do it;
And just as lamely can ye mark, 55
How far perhaps they rue it.
Who made the heart, ‘tis He alone
Decidedly can try us;
He knows each chord, its various tone,
Each spring, its various bias: 60
Then at the balance let’s be mute,
We never can adjust it;
What’s done we partly may compute,
But know not what’s resisted.
Chronological List of Poems
Alphabetical List of Poems
96.
The Inventory
In answer to a mandate by the Surveyor of the Taxes
SIR, as your mandate did request,
I send you here a faithfu’ list,
O’ gudes an’ gear, an’ a’ my graith,
To which I’m clear to gi’e my aith.
Imprimis, then, for carriage cattle, 5
I hae four brutes o’ gallant mettle,
As ever drew afore a pettle.
My hand-afore ‘s a guid auld has-been,
An’ wight an’ wilfu’ a’ his days been:
My hand-ahin ‘s a weel gaun fillie, 10
That aft has borne me hame frae Killie.
An’ your auld borough mony a time
In days when riding was nae crime.
But ance, when in my wooing pride
I, like a blockhead, boost to ride, 15
The wilfu’ creature sae I pat to,
(L — d pardon a’ my sins, an’ that too!)
I play’d my fillie sic a shavie,
She’s a’ bedevil’d wi’ the spavie.
My furr-ahin ‘s a wordy beast, 20
As e’er in tug or tow was traced.
The fourth’s a Highland Donald hastle,
A d — n’d red-wud Kilburnie blastie!
Foreby a cowt, o’ cowts the wale,
As ever ran afore a tail: 25
Gin he be spar’d to be a beast,
He’ll draw me fifteen pund at least.
Wheel-carriages I ha’e but few,
Three carts, an’ twa are feckly new;
An auld wheelbarrow, mair for token, 30
Ae leg an’ baith the trams are broken;
I made a poker o’ the spin’le,
An’ my auld mither brunt the trin’le.
For men, I’ve three mischievou
s boys,
Run-deils for ranting an’ for noise; 35
A gaudsman ane, a thrasher t’ other:
Wee Davock hauds the nowt in fother.
I rule them as I ought, discreetly,
An’ aften labour them completely;
An’ aye on Sundays duly, nightly, 40
I on the Questions targe them tightly;
Till, faith! wee Davock’s grown sae gleg,
Tho’ scarcely langer than your leg,
He’ll screed you aff Effectual Calling,
As fast as ony in the dwalling. 45
I’ve nane in female servant station,
(L — d keep me aye frae a’ temptation!)
I hae nae wife-and thay my bliss is,
An’ ye have laid nae tax on misses;
An’ then, if kirk folks dinna clutch me, 50
I ken the deevils darena touch me.
Wi’ weans I’m mair than weel contented,
Heav’n sent me ane mae than I wanted!
My sonsie, smirking, dear-bought Bess,
She stares the daddy in her face, 55
Enough of ought ye like but grace;
But her, my bonie, sweet wee lady,
I’ve paid enough for her already;
An’ gin ye tax her or her mither,
By the L — d, ye’se get them a’ thegither! 60
And now, remember, Mr. Aiken,
Nae kind of licence out I’m takin:
Frae this time forth, I do declare
I’se ne’er ride horse nor hizzie mair;
Thro’ dirt and dub for life I’ll paidle, 65
Ere I sae dear pay for a saddle;
My travel a’ on foot I’ll shank it,
I’ve sturdy bearers, Gude the thankit!
The kirk and you may tak you that,
It puts but little in your pat; 70
Sae dinna put me in your beuk,
Nor for my ten white shillings leuk.
