by Robert Burns
Now, looking over firth and fauld,
Her horn the pale-faced Cynthia rear’d, 25
When lo! in form of Minstrel auld,
A stern and stalwart ghaist appear’d.
A lassie all alone, &c.
And frae his harp sic strains did flow,
Might rous’d the slumbering Dead to hear; 30
But oh, it was a tale of woe,
As ever met a Briton’s ear!
A lassie all alone, &c.
He sang wi’ joy his former day,
He, weeping, wail’d his latter times; 35
But what he said-it was nae play,
I winna venture’t in my rhymes.
A lassie all alone, &c.
Chronological List of Poems
Alphabetical List of Poems
446.
A Vision
AS I stood by yon roofless tower,
Where the wa’flower scents the dewy air,
Where the howlet mourns in her ivy bower,
And tells the midnight moon her care.
The winds were laid, the air was still, 5
The stars they shot alang the sky;
The fox was howling on the hill,
And the distant echoing glens reply.
The stream, adown its hazelly path,
Was rushing by the ruin’d wa’s, 10
Hasting to join the sweeping Nith,
Whase distant roaring swells and fa’s.
The cauld blae North was streaming forth
Her lights, wi’ hissing, eerie din;
Athwart the lift they start and shift, 15
Like Fortune’s favors, tint as win.
By heedless chance I turn’d mine eyes,
And, by the moonbeam, shook to see
A stern and stalwart ghaist arise,
Attir’d as Minstrels wont to be. 20
Had I a statue been o’ stane,
His daring look had daunted me;
And on his bonnet grav’d was plain,
The sacred posy— “LIBERTIE!”
And frae his harp sic strains did flow, 25
Might rous’d the slumb’ring Dead to hear;
But oh, it was a tale of woe,
As ever met a Briton’s ear!
He sang wi’ joy his former day,
He, weeping, wailed his latter times; 30
But what he said — it was nae play,
I winna venture’t in my rhymes.
Chronological List of Poems
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447.
A red, red Rose (Song)
O MY Luve’s like a red, red rose,
That’s newly sprung in June:
O my Luve’s like the melodie,
That’s sweetly play’d in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonie lass, 5
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry.
Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun; 10
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.
And fare-thee-weel, my only Luve!
And fare-thee-weel, a while!
And I will come again, my Luve, 15
Tho’ ‘twere ten thousand mile!
Chronological List of Poems
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448.
Young Jamie, pride of a’ the plain (Song)
Tune— “The Carlin of the Glen.”
YOUNG JAMIE, pride of a’ the plain,
Sae gallant and sae gay a swain,
Thro’ a’ our lasses he did rove,
And reign’d resistless King of Love.
But now, wi’ sighs and starting tears, 5
He strays amang the woods and breirs;
Or in the glens and rocky caves,
His sad complaining dowie raves: —
“I wha sae late did range and rove,
And chang’d with every moon my love, 10
I little thought the time was near,
Repentance I should buy sae dear.
“The slighted maids my torments see,
And laugh at a’ the pangs I dree;
While she, my cruel, scornful Fair, 15
Forbids me e’er to see her mair.”
Chronological List of Poems
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449.
The Flowery banks of Cree (Song)
HERE is the glen, and here the bower
All underneath the birchen shade;
The village-bell has told the hour,
O what can stay my lovely maid?
‘Tis not Maria’s whispering call; 5
‘Tis but the balmy breathing gale,
Mixt with some warbler’s dying fall,
The dewy star of eve to hail.
It is Maria’s voice I hear;
So calls the woodlark in the grove, 10
His little, faithful mate to cheer;
At once ‘tis music and ‘tis love.
And art thou come! and art thou true!
O welcome dear to love and me!
And let us all our vows renew, 15
Along the flowery banks of Cree.
Chronological List of Poems
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450.
Monody on a Lady, famed for her Caprice
On a lady famed for her Caprice.
HOW cold is that bosom which folly once fired,
How pale is that cheek where the rouge lately glisten’d;
How silent that tongue which the echoes oft tired,
How dull is that ear which to flatt’ry so listen’d!
If sorrow and anguish their exit await, 5
From friendship and dearest affection remov’d;
How doubly severer, Maria, thy fate,
Thou diedst unwept, as thou livedst unlov’d.
Loves, Graces, and Virtues, I call not on you;
So shy, grave, and distant, ye shed not a tear: 10
But come, all ye offspring of Folly so true,
And flowers let us cull for Maria’s cold bier.
We’ll search through the garden for each silly flower,
We’ll roam thro’ the forest for each idle weed;
But chiefly the nettle, so typical, shower, 15
For none e’er approach’d her but rued the rash deed.
We’ll sculpture the marble, we’ll measure the lay;
Here Vanity strums on her idiot lyre;
There keen Indignation shall dart on his prey,
Which spurning Contempt shall redeem from his ire. 20
Chronological List of Poems
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451.
Epitaph on the same
HERE lies, now a prey to insulting neglect,
What once was a butterfly, gay in life’s beam:
Want only of wisdom denied her respect,
Want only of goodness denied her esteem.
Chronological List of Poems
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452.
Epigram pinned to Mrs. Riddell’s carriage
IF you rattle along like your Mistress’ tongue,
Your speed will outrival the dart;
But a fly for your load, you’ll break down on the road,
If your stuff be as rotten’s her heart.
Chronological List of Poems
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453.
Epitaph for Mr. Walter Riddell
SIC a reptile was Wat, sic a miscreant slave,
That the worms ev’n d — d him when laid in his grave;
“In his flesh there’s a famine,” a starved reptile cries,
“And his heart is rank poison!” another replies.
Chronological List of Poems
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454.
Epistle from Esopus to M
aria
FROM those drear solitudes and frowsy cells,
Where Infamy with sad Repentance dwells;
Where turnkeys make the jealous portal fast,
And deal from iron hands the spare repast;
Where truant ‘prentices, yet young in sin, 5
Blush at the curious stranger peeping in;
Where strumpets, relics of the drunken roar,
Resolve to drink, nay, half, to whore, no more;
Where tiny thieves not destin’d yet to swing,
Beat hemp for others, riper for the string: 10
From these dire scenes my wretched lines I date,
To tell Maria her Esopus’ fate.
“Alas! I feel I am no actor here!”
‘Tis real hangmen real scourges bear!
Prepare Maria, for a horrid tale 15
Will turn thy very rouge to deadly pale;
Will make thy hair, tho’ erst from gipsy poll’d,
By barber woven, and by barber sold,
Though twisted smooth with Harry’s nicest care,
Like hoary bristles to erect and stare. 20
The hero of the mimic scene, no more
I start in Hamlet, in Othello roar;
Or, haughty Chieftain, ‘mid the din of arms
In Highland Bonnet, woo Malvina’s charms;
While sans-culottes stoop up the mountain high, 25
And steal from me Maria’s prying eye.
Blest Highland bonnet! once my proudest dress,
Now prouder still, Maria’s temples press;
I see her wave thy towering plumes afar,
And call each coxcomb to the wordy war: 30
I see her face the first of Ireland’s sons,
And even out-Irish his Hibernian bronze;
The crafty Colonel leaves the tartan’d lines,
For other wars, where he a hero shines:
The hopeful youth, in Scottish senate bred, 35
Who owns a Bushby’s heart without the head,
Comes ‘mid a string of coxcombs, to display
That veni, vidi, vici, is his way:
The shrinking Bard adown the alley skulks,
And dreads a meeting worse than Woolwich hulks: 40
Though there, his heresies in Church and State
Might well award him Muir and Palmer’s fate:
Still she undaunted reels and rattles on,
And dares the public like a noontide sun.
What scandal called Maria’s jaunty stagger 45
The ricket reeling of a crooked swagger?
Whose spleen (e’en worse than Burns’ venom, when
He dips in gall unmix’d his eager pen,
And pours his vengeance in the burning line,) —
Who christen’d thus Maria’s lyre-divine 50
The idiot strum of Vanity bemus’d,
And even the abuse of Poesy abus’d? —
Who called her verse a Parish Workhouse, made
For motley foundling Fancies, stolen or strayed?
A Workhouse! ah, that sound awakes my woes, 55
And pillows on the thorn my rack’d repose!
In durance vile here must I wake and weep,
And all my frowsy couch in sorrow steep;
That straw where many a rogue has lain of yore,
And vermin’d gipsies litter’d heretofore. 60
Why, Lonsdale, thus thy wrath on vagrants pour?
Must earth no rascal save thyself endure?
Must thou alone in guilt immortal swell,
And make a vast monopoly of hell?
Thou know’st the Virtues cannot hate thee worse; 65
The Vices also, must they club their curse?
Or must no tiny sin to others fall,
Because thy guilt’s supreme enough for all?
Maria, send me too thy griefs and cares;
In all of thee sure thy Esopus shares. 70
As thou at all mankind the flag unfurls,
Who on my fair one Satire’s vengeance hurls —
Who calls thee, pert, affected, vain coquette,
A wit in folly, and a fool in wit!
Who says that fool alone is not thy due, 75
And quotes thy treacheries to prove it true!
Our force united on thy foes we’ll turn,
And dare the war with all of woman born:
For who can write and speak as thou and I?
My periods that deciphering defy, 80
And thy still matchless tongue that conquers all reply!
Chronological List of Poems
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455.
Epitaph on a noted coxcomb
Capt. Wm. Roddirk, of Corbiston.
LIGHT lay the earth on Billy’s breast,
His chicken heart so tender;
But build a castle on his head,
His scull will prop it under.
Chronological List of Poems
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456.
Epitaph on Captain Lascelles
WHEN Lascelles thought fit from this world to depart,
Some friends warmly thought of embalming his heart;
A bystander whispers— “Pray don’t make so much o’t,
The subject is poison, no reptile will touch it.”
Chronological List of Poems
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457.
Epitaph on Wm. Graham, Esq., of Mossknowe
“STOP thief!” dame Nature call’d to Death,
As Willy drew his latest breath;
How shall I make a fool again?
My choicest model thou hast ta’en.
Chronological List of Poems
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458.
Epitaph on John Busby, Esq., Tinwald Downs
HERE lies John Bushby — honest man,
Cheat him, Devil — if you can!
Chronological List of Poems
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459.
Sonnet on the Death of Robert Riddell
Of Glenriddell and Friars’ Carse.
NO more, ye warblers of the wood! no more;
Nor pour your descant grating on my soul;
Thou young-eyed Spring! gay in thy verdant stole,
More welcome were to me grim Winter’s wildest roar.
How can ye charm, ye flowers, with all your dyes? 5
Ye blow upon the sod that wraps my friend!
How can I to the tuneful strain attend?
That strain flows round the untimely tomb where Riddell lies.
Yes, pour, ye warblers! pour the notes of woe,
And soothe the Virtues weeping o’er his bier: 10
The man of worth — and hath not left his peer!
Is in his “narrow house,” for ever darkly low.
Thee, Spring! again with joy shall others greet;
Me, memory of my loss will only meet.
Chronological List of Poems
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460.
The Lovely Lass o’ Inverness (Song)
THE LOVELY lass o’ Inverness,
Nae joy nor pleasure can she see;
For, e’en to morn she cries, alas!
And aye the saut tear blin’s her e’e.
“Drumossie moor, Drumossie day — 5
A waefu’ day it was to me!
For there I lost my father dear,
My father dear, and brethren three.
“Their winding-sheet the bluidy clay,
Their graves are growin’ green to see; 10
And by them lies the dearest lad
That ever blest a woman’s e’e!
“Now wae to thee, thou cruel lord,
A bluidy man I trow thou be;
For mony a heart thou has made sair, 15
That ne’er did wrang to thine or thee!”
Chronological List of Poems
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461.
Charlie, he’s my Darling (Song)
‘TWAS on a Monday morning,
Right early in the year,
That Charlie came to our town,
The young Chevalier.
Chorus. — An’ Charlie, he’s my darling, 5
My darling, my darling,
Charlie, he’s my darling,
The young Chevalier.
As he was walking up the street,
The city for to view, 10
O there he spied a bonie lass
The window looking through,
An’ Charlie, &c.
Sae light’s he jumped up the stair,
And tirl’d at the pin; 15
And wha sae ready as hersel’
To let the laddie in.
An’ Charlie, &c.
