The Canongate Burns

by Robert Burns

  Address, to the Shade of Thomson,

  On Crowning his Bust at Ednam,

  Roxburgh-Shire with a Wreath of Bays

  First published in The European Magazine, November 1791, prior to inclusion in the 1793 Edinburgh edition.

  While virgin Spring, by Eden’s flood

  Unfolds her tender mantle green,

  Or pranks the sod in frolic mood,

  Or tunes Eolian strains between:

  5 While Summer with a matron grace

  Retreats to Dryburgh’s cooling shade,

  Yet oft, delighted, stops to trace

  The progress of the spikey blade:

  While Autumn, benefactor kind,

  10 By Tweed erects his aged head,

  And sees, with self-approving mind,

  Each creature on his bounty fed:

  While maniac Winter rages o’er

  The hills whence classic Yarrow flows,

  15 Rousing the turbid torrent’s roar,

  Or sweeping, wild, a waste of snows:

  So long, sweet Poet of the Year!

  Shall bloom that wreath thou well has won;

  While Scotia, with exulting tear,

  20 Proclaims that Thomson was her son.

  The occasion of this poem was to prove ill-fated. David Erskine, Earl of Buchan, was the elder brother of the more celebrated Henry and Thomas. He had the family egotism without perhaps the talent. His celebration of James Thomson was spoiled by the bust being shattered the night before the unveiling ceremony. Burns had been commissioned to write a poem but could not appear, allegedly because of harvest business. Burns had referred Buchan to Collins’s Ode on the Death of Mr. Thomson, which he despaired of equalling. Burns’s four seasonal stanzas neatly replicate the more prolix chronology of Thomson’s best-known poem. The attempt in the last stanza to repatriate Thomson was foredoomed to failure. Complicit with the forces of agrarian capitalism and a propagandist for Anglo-British imperialism (he actually wrote Rule Britannia for his Masque of Alfred), Thomson had, a poetic pig in clover, absolutely no notion of returning to his austere native land. In political and social values he is almost Burns’s antithesis which may in part account for Burns’s creative hesitancy and non-appearance.

  On the Late Captain Grose’s Peregrinations

  Thro’ Scotland Collecting the Antiquities of that Kingdom

  First printed in The Edinburgh Evening Courant, 11th August 1789, designated an Address to the People of Scotland, signed Thomas A Linn.

  Hear, Land o’ Cakes, and brither Scots, oatcakes, brother

  Frae Maidenkirk to Johnny Groat’s! — Kirkmaiden parish

  If there’s a hole in a’ your coats,

  I rede you tent it: warn, attend

  5 A chield’s amang you takin notes, fellow’s among

  And, faith, he’ll prent it: print

  If in your bounds ye chance to light

  Upon a fine, fat, fodgel wight, plump

  O’ stature short but genius bright,

  10 That’s he, mark weel — well

  And wow! he has an unco sleight uncommon skill

  O’ cauk and keel. chalk, pencil

  By some auld, houlet-haunted biggin,1 old, owl-, building

  Or kirk deserted by its riggin, roof

  15 It’s ten to ane ye’ll find him snug in one

  Some eldritch part, eerie/haunted

  Wi’ deils, they say, Lord safe’ s! colleaguin’ conferring

  At some black art. —

  Ilk ghaist that haunts auld ha’ or chamer, each ghost, old hall, chamber

  20 Ye gipsy-gang that deal in glamour,

  And you, deep-read in hell’s black grammar, spells/magic

  Warlocks and witches;

  Ye’ll quake at his conjuring hammer,

  Ye midnight bitches.

  25 It’s tauld he was a sodger bred, told, soldier

  And ane wad rather fa’n than fled; one who would, fallen

  But now he’s quat the spurtle-blade, quit, sword

  And dog-skin wallet,

  And taen the — Antiquarian trade, taken

  30 I think they call it.

  He has a fouth o’ auld nick-nackets: fund, old, nick-nacks

  Rusty airn caps and jinglin jackets,2 iron, metal armour

  Wad haud the Lothians three in tackets, would hold, shoenails

  A towmont guid; twelvemonth good

  35 And parritch-pats, and auld saut-backets, porridge-pots, old salt boxes

  Before the Flood.

  Of Eve’s first fire he has a cinder;

  Auld Tubalcain’s3 fire-shool and fender; old, -shovel

  That which distinguishèd the gender

  40 O’ Balaam’s4 ass;

  A broomstick o’ the witch of Endor5,

  Weel shod wi’ brass. well

  Forbye, he’ll shape you aff fu’ gleg besides, off full smartly

  The cut of Adam’s philibeg; kilt

  45 The knife that nicket Abel’s craig cut, throat

  He’ll prove you fully,

  It was a faulding jocteleg, folding clasp-knife

  Or lang-kail gullie. — long cabbage knife

  But wad ye see him in his glee, would

  50 For meikle glee and fun has he, much

  Then set him down, and twa or three two

  Gude fellows wi’ him; good

  And port, O port! shine thou a wee, for a little

  And THEN ye’ll see him!

  55 Now, by the Pow’rs o’ Verse and Prose!

  Thou art a dainty chield, O Grose! — fellow

  Whae’er o’ thee shall ill suppose, whoever

  They sair misca’ thee; sore miscall

  I’d take the rascal by the nose,

  60 Wad say, Shame fa’ thee. would, fall

  Francis Grose (1731–1791) was born at Greenford, Middlesex, the son of a jeweller who emigrated from Switzerland to England. After obtaining the rank of Captain in service to the Surrey Militia, he used his inheritance to follow an interest in the arts and became a travelling antiquarian, publishing the well-received The Antiquities of England and Wales (1773–87).

  Various publications of this poem appeared in newspapers and journals throughout Britain after it first featured in the Edinburgh Evening Courant in August 1789, under the pen-name Thomas A. Linn, including appearing in the radical Irish newspaper, The Northern Star, issue April 14th–18th 1792. Scott Douglas mentions that it appears also in The Kelso Chronicle, 4th September, 1789. (Vol. 1, p. 360). The initial title by Burns was an Address to the People of Scotland.

  Although the comic tone of the poem is added to by the deliberate naïveté of its point of view (ll. 29–30), Burns himself was influenced by the antiquarian, collecting tendencies of the late eighteenth century. Arguably antiquarianism bears a hidden anxiety that the past is not only different but retreating from us so that we need to preserve its artefacts. Burns was also well aware of the absurdity inherent in some forms of supposed preservation as in the brilliant send-up of Biblical bric-a-brac in ll. 37–48. For Tubalcain (l. 37), see Gen. iv.22.; Balaam’s Ass, Num. xxii. 21ff; The Witch of Endor, 1 Sam. xxviii.7ff. Burns’s deeply affectionate caricature of Grose in a letter to Mrs Dunlop is a small comic gem in itself. It also reveals his intense, admiring reading of the English eighteenth-century novel and its fundamental contribution to his sensibility as well as his own deep interest in local history of place. ‘… if you discover a chearful-looking gig of an old, fat fellow, the precise figure of Dr Slop, wheeling about your avenue in his own carriage with a pencil & paper in his hand, you may conclude, “Thou art the man!” (II Samuel 12:7).’ It has also been suggested that ‘Tubalcain’ was Burns deliberately identifying a key word of Masonic ritual employed by both Grose and himself.

  1 Vide his Antiquities of Scotland. RB.

  2 Vide his treatise on ancient armour and weapons. R.B.

  3 Genesis, IV, 22.

  4 Numbers, XXII, 21.

  5 Samuel, I, XXVIII,
7.

  To Miss Cruickshank, a Very Young Lady

  Written on the Blank Leaf of a Book,

  presented to her by the Author

  First printed in the Edinburgh edition, 1793.

  Beauteous rose-bud, young and gay,

  Blooming on thy early May,

  Never may’st thou, lovely Flower,

  Chilly shrink in sleety shower!

  5 Never Boreas’ hoary path,

  Never Eurus’ pois’nous breath,

  Never baleful stellar lights,

  Taint thee with untimely blights!

  Never, never reptile thief

  10 Riot on thy virgin leaf!

  Nor even Sol too fiercely view

  Thy bosom blushing still with dew!

  May’st thou long, sweet crimson gem,

  Richly deck thy native stem;

  15 Till some evening, sober, calm,

  Dropping dews and breathing balm,

  While all around the woodland rings,

  And ev’ry bird thy requiem sings;

  Thou, amid the dirgeful sound,

  20 Shed thy dying honours round,

  And resign to parent Earth

  The loveliest form she e’er gave birth.

  This was composed for Miss Jean Cruikshank, the only daughter of William, a classics teacher at the High School Edinburgh and colleague of William Nicol (see Letters 142, 214, and 292 for Burns’s correspondence to W. Cruikshank). The poem was probably written late in 1788, although dating the letter containing the poem to William Cruikshank is problematic, estimated for sometime in December 1788 or January 1789. Burns first describes the young girl as ‘the sweet little Rose-bud’ in March, 1788 (Letter 214). David Sillar of Irvine composed the music for these verses.

  Anna Thy Charms

  First printed in the London Star, 18th April, 1789.

  Anna, thy charms my bosom fire,

  And waste my soul with care;

  But ah! how bootless to admire,

  When fated to despair!

  Yet in thy presence, lovely Fair,

  To hope may be forgiven;

  For sure ’twere impious to despair

  So much in sight of Heaven.

  This song is generally thought to have appeared first in the Edinburgh edition, 1793. It first publication, was, however, in a London newspaper. It is featured the day after Ode on the Departed Regency Bill in Peter Stuart’s spurious Star (so named because another newspaper The London Star existed, the spurious Star being formed after Stuart led a breakaway from the main paper). It was copied and printed by The London Gazetteer a few days later, 20th April, 1789.

  On Reading in a Newspaper, the Death of John M’Leod, Esq.

  Brother to a Young Lady,

  A Particular Friend of the Author’s

  First printed in the Edinburgh edition, 1793.

  Sad thy tale, thou idle page,

  And rueful thy alarms;

  Death tears the brother of her love

  From Isabella’s arms.

  5 Sweetly deckt with pearly dew

  The morning rose may blow;

  But cold successive noontide blasts

  May lay its beauties low.

  Fair on Isabella’s morn

  10 The sun propitious smil’d;

  But, long ere noon, succeeding clouds

  Succeeding hopes beguil’d.

  Fate oft tears the bosom chords

  That Nature finest strung:

  15 So Isabella’s heart was form’d,

  And so that heart was wrung.

  Dread Omnipotence, alone,

  Can heal the wound He gave;

  Can point the brimful grief-worn eyes

  20 To scenes beyond the grave.

  Virtue’s blossoms there shall blow,

  And fear no withering blast;

  There Isabella’s spotless worth

  Shall happy be at last.

  This is a poem of condolence to Miss Isabella McLeod, described by Burns as ‘Aunt to the young Countess of Loudon’ near Kilmarnock (Letter 139). A copy of the poem was included in a letter to Patrick Miller on 28th September 1787. John McLeod, the younger brother of Isabella, died on 20th July 1787 and the poem was composed shortly after Burns read of his death in an Edinburgh newspaper.

  The Humble Petition of Bruar Water,1

  to the Noble Duke of Athole

  First printed in the Edinburgh edition, 1793.

  My Lord, I know, your noble ear

  Woe ne’er assails in vain;

  Embolden’d thus, I beg you’ll hear

  Your humble slave complain,

  5 How saucy Phoebus’ scorching beams, the Sun

  In flaming summer-pride,

  Dry-withering, waste my foamy streams,

  And drink my crystal tide.

  The lightly-jumping, glowrin’ trouts, staring/keen-eyed

  10 That thro’ my waters play,

  If, in their random, wanton spouts, darts

  They near the margin stray;

  If, hapless chance! they linger lang, long

  I’m scorching up so shallow,

  15 They’re left the whitening stanes amang, stones among

  In gasping death to wallow.

  Last day I grat wi’ spite and teen, wept, vexation

  As Poet Burns came by,

  That, to a Bard, I should be seen

  20 Wi’ half my channel dry:

  A panegyric rhyme, I ween, trust

  Ev’n as I was he shor’d me; threatened/offered

  But, had I in my glory been,

  He, kneeling, wad ador’d me. would have

  25 Here, foaming down the skelvy rocks, shelved

  In twisting strength I rin; run/flow

  There high my boiling torrent smokes,

  Wild-roaring o’er a linn: a waterfall

  Enjoying large each spring and well

  30 As Nature gave them me,

  I am, altho’ I say’t mysel,

  Worth gaun a mile to see. going

  Would, then my noble master please

  To grant my highest wishes,

  35 He’ll shade my banks wi’ towering trees,

  And bonie spreading bushes. bonny

  Delighted doubly then, my Lord,

  You’ll wander on my banks,

  And listen mony a grateful bird many

  40 Return you tuneful thanks.

  The sober laverock, warbling wild, lark

  Shall to the skies aspire;

  The gowdspink, Music’s gayest child, goldfinch

  Shall sweetly join the choir:

  45 The blackbird strong, the lintwhite clear, linnet

  The mavis mild and mellow;

  The robin pensive Autumn cheer

  In all her locks of yellow.

  This, too, a covert shall ensure,

  50 To shield them from the storm;

  And coward maukin sleep secure, hare

  Low in her grassy form: bed

  Here shall the shepherd make his seat,

  To weave his crown of flowers;

  55 Or find a sheltering, safe retreat,

  From prone-descending showers.

  And here, by sweet, endearing stealth,

  Shall meet the loving pair,

  Despising worlds with all their wealth,

  60 As empty idle care:

  The flowers shall vie in all their charms

  The hour of heaven to grace,

  And birks extend their fragrant arms birch trees

  To screen the dear embrace.

  65 Here haply too, at vernal dawn,

  Some musing Bard may stray,

  And eye the smoking, dewy lawn,

  And misty mountain, grey;

  Or, by the reaper’s nightly beam,

  70 Mild-chequering thro’ the trees,

  Rave to my darkly dashing stream,

  Hoarse-swelling on the breeze.

  Let lofty firs, and ashes cool

  My lowly banks o’erspread,

&nbs
p; 75 And view, deep-bending in the pool,

  Their shadows’ wat’ry bed:

  Let fragrant birks, in woodbines drest, birches, dressed

  My craggy cliffs adorn;

  And, for the little songster’s nest,

  80 The close embowering thorn.

  So may Old Scotia’s darling hope,

  Your little angel band,

  Spring, like their fathers, up to prop

  Their honour’d, native land!

  85 So may, thro’ Albion’s farthest ken,

  To social-flowing glasses,

  The grace be — ‘Athole’s honest men

  And Athole’s bonie lasses!’

  This was composed during the first week of September 1787, when the poet was touring the Highlands. Writing from Inverness on 5th September, Burns sent a copy of the poem to Josiah Walker, tutor to the Duke of Atholl’s son. He told Walker, ‘I have just time to write the foregoing, and to tell you that it was, at least most part of it, the effusion of the half hour that I spent at Bruar. – I don’t mean that it was extempore, for I have endeavoured to brush it up as well as Mr Nicol’s chat and the jogging of the chaise would allow’ (Letter 135). Walker replied by telling Burns how well his poem was received at Blair Atholl and that the family wished to see it in print. He responded to this idea: ‘I would not like it published in any other newspaper than a magazine, nor there, but as if by chance, and “said” to be done by such a Man: but it is to me a matter totally indifferent: you are at perfect liberty to do as you please’ (Letter 140). This final comment reveals how Burns instructed Walker on the manner in which the poem was to be printed and ‘said’ to be by him, a move that would, during this period, add some mystique to the publication and Burns would not be seen as a self-publicist. Of course, it was not an indifferent matter to him; all his poetic compositions were the ‘offspring’ of his Muse or creative genius and he would have been quietly delighted if the poem appeared in print. Later, Walker, appointed Professor at the University of Glasgow, looked back on the poet’s visit to the castle at Blair Atholl, recording that it was ‘ability alone that gave him [Burns] a title to be there’ (Scott Douglas, Vol. I, p. 367).