by Robert Burns
To Collector Mitchell
Addressed to Mr Mitchell, Collector of Excise, Dumfries
First printed in Currie, 1800.
FRIEND o’ the Poet, tried and leal, loyal
Wha, wanting thee, might beg, or steal: who, lacking
Alake! Alake! the meikle Deil alas, great Devil
Wi’ a’ his witches
5 Are at it, skelpin jig an’ reel slapping
In my poor pouches. pockets
Fu’ fain I, modestly wad hint it, right well would
That ONE POUND, ONE, I sairly want it; sorely miss
If wi’ the hizzie down ye sent it, maid, you
10 It would be kind;
And while my heart wi’ life-blood dunted, beat
I’d bear’t in mind.
So may the AULD YEAR gang out moanin, old, go
To see the NEW come, laden, groanin,
15 Wi’ double plenty, o’er the loanin, pasture
To THEE and THINE;
DOMESTIC PEACE and COMFORT crownin
The hale DESIGN. whole
Hogmanai eve: 1795
POSTSCRIPT
Ye’ve heard this while how I’ve been licket, beaten
And by fell Death ’maist nearly nicket; taken
Grim loon! he got me by the fecket, fool, jacket
And sair he sheuk; sore, shook
5 But by gude luck, I lap a wicket, good, leapt thro’ a gap
And turn’d a neuk. corner
But by that HEALTH, I’ve got a share o’t!
And by that LIFE, I’m promis’d mair o’t! more
My hale and weel, I’ll tak a care o’t health, welfare
10 A tentier way: more careful
Then fareweel, Folly, hilt and hair o’t, every bit of it
For ance and ay! once, always
John Mitchell (1731–1806) was appointed Collector of Excise in Dumfries in 1788, having worked in Kilmarnock and Fraserburgh. Burns was introduced to him in 1789. He and Burns became close friends and the poet often sent him first drafts of his songs.
A Lass wi’ a Tocher
Tune: Balinamona Ora
First printed in Thomson, 1799.
Awa wi’ your witchcraft o’ Beauty’s alarms, away
The slender bit beauty you grasp in your arms:
O, gie me the lass that has acres o’ charms, give
O, gie me the lass wi’ the weel-stockit farms. well stocked
Chorus
5 Then hey, for a lass wi’ a tocher, dowry
Then hey, for a lass wi’ a tocher,
Then hey, for a lass wi’ a tocher;
The nice yellow guineas for me.
Your Beauty’s a flower in the morning that blows,
10 And withers the faster the faster it grows;
But the rapturous charm o’ the bonie green knowes, hill ridges
Ilk spring they’re new deckit wi’ bonie white yowes. each, decked, ewes
Then hey, for a lass &c.
And e’en when this Beauty your bosom has blest, even
The brightest o’ Beauty may cloy, when possesst;
15 But the sweet yellow darlings wi’ Geordie imprest, gold coins
The langer ye hae them,— the mair they’re carest! longer, have, more
Then hey, for a lass &c.
Burns wrote these lyrics, as he told Thomson ‘to another Hibernian melody I admire’ (Letter 689). Uncharacteristic of Burns’s songs, this is an assertion of triumphant masculine materialism.
To Colonel De Peyster
Or Poem on Life – Dumfries, 1796
First printed in Currie, 1800.
MY honor’d colonel, deep I feel
Your interest in the Poet’s weal; welfare
Ah! now sma’ heart hae I to speel have, climb
The steep Parnassus,
5 Surrounded thus by bolus pill, large pill
And potion glasses.
O what a canty warld were it, jolly world
Would pain and care, and sickness spare it;
And Fortune favor worth and merit,
10 As they deserve:
(And aye a rowth, roast beef and claret; always plenty
Syne, wha wad starve?) then, who would
Dame Life, tho’ fiction out may trick her,
And in paste gems and frippery deck her;
15 Oh! flickering, feeble, and unsicker uncertain
I’ve found her still,
Ay wavering like the willow wicker, branch
’Tween good and ill.
Then that curst carmagnole, auld Satan, rascal, old
20 Watches, like bawdrons by a rattan, pussy, rat
Our sinfu’ saul to get a claute on soul, grip
Wi’ felon ire;
Syne, whip! his tail ye’ll ne’er cast saut on, salt
He’s aff like fire. off/away
25 Ah! Nick, ah Nick it is na fair, The Devil, not
First shewing us the tempting ware,
Bright wines and bonie lasses rare,
To put us daft;
Syne weave, unseen, thy spider snare then
30 O’ Hell’s damned waft. web
Poor man the flie, aft bizzes bye, often buzzes
And aft as chance he comes thee nigh,
Thy auld damned elbow yeuks wi’ joy, old, itches
And hellish pleasure;
35 Already in thy fancy’s eye,
Thy sicker treasure. certain
Soon heels o’er gowdie! in he gangs, head over heels, goes
And, like a sheep-head on a tangs, burning tongs
Thy girnin laugh enjoys his pangs snarling
40 And murdering 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, droning
45 Abjuring a’ intentions evil,
I quat my pen: quit
The Lord preserve us frae the Devil! from
Amen! Amen!
Colonel Arentz Schuyler De Peyster was an American-born soldier serving in the British army until his retirement in 1794. Living at Mavis Grove near Dumfries, he was appointed Colonel of the Dumfries Volunteers. He was related, through marriage, to the poet’s friend, John McMurdo. He was 68 years old when Burns wrote these stanzas. He died in 1822, aged 95 years. Ll. 9–12 carry a politically dissident load.
Here’s a Health to Ane I Loe Dear
First printed in Thomson, 1799.
ALTHO’ thou maun never be mine, shall
Altho’ even hope is denied;
’Tis sweeter for thee despairing,
Than ought in the warld beside — Jessy.
Chorus
5 Here’s a health to ane I loe dear, one, love
Here’s a health to ane I loe dear;
Thou art sweet as the smile when fond lovers meet,
And soft as their parting tear — Jessy.
I mourn thro’ the gay, gaudy day,
10 As hopeless I muse on thy charms;
But welcome the dream o’ sweet slumber,
For then I am lockt in thine arms — Jessy.
Here’s a health &c.
This was sent to Thomson in April 1796. It was written about Jessy Lewars (1778–1855), daughter of John Lewars, the poet’s colleague in the Excise.
On Jessy Lewars
First printed in Cunningham, 1834.
Talk not to me of savages
From Afric’s burning sun,
No savage e’er can rend my heart
As, Jessy, thou hast done.
But Jessy’s lovely hand in mine,
A mutual faith to plight,
Not even to view the heavenly choir
Would be so blest a sight.
This was supposedly written on the reverse side of a sheet of paper advertising a travelling show which was handed to Burns during his last illness. On Jessie Lewars, see notes above to Here’s a Health to Ane I Loe Dea
r.
The Toast
First printed in Cunningham, 1834.
FILL me with the rosy wine;
Call a toast — a toast divine;
Give the Poet’s darling flame,
Lovely Jessy be her name;
Then thou mayest freely boast,
Thou hast given a peerless toast.
This was, according to Cunningham, inscribed on a goblet presented to Miss Jessy Lewars.
Jessy’s Illness
First printed in Cunningham, 1834.
Say, sages, what’s the charm on earth
Can turn Death’s dart aside?
It is not purity and worth,
Else Jessy had not died.
Jessie’s Recovery
First printed in Cunningham, 1834.
But rarely seen since Nature’s birth,
The natives of the sky;
Yet still one seraph’s left on earth,
For Jessy did not die.
To Miss Jessy Lewars,
Dumfries, with Books which the Bard Presented Her
First printed in Currie, 1800.
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,
5 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,
10 And all the treasures of the mind —
These be thy guardian and reward;
So prays thy faithful friend, the Bard.
Robert Burns.
June 26th, 1796
These lines were inscribed by Burns in a copy of James Johnson’s Scots Musical Museum which Burns paid for as a present to Miss Jessy Lewars. Jessy lived almost opposite the Burns family house in the Mill Hole Brae (now Burns Street) and tended the poet during his final illness and assisted Jean during and after her pregnancy in July 1796.
O, Wert Thou in the Cauld Blast
Tune: Lennox Love to Blantyre
First printed in Currie, 1800.
Oh wert thou in the cauld blast, cold
On yonder lea, on yonder lea; pasture
My plaidie to the angry airt, plaid, wind’s direction
I’d shelter thee, I’d shelter thee:
5 Or did Misfortune’s bitter storms
Around thee blaw, around thee blaw, blow
Thy bield should be my bosom, shelter
To share it a’, to share it a’. all
Or were I in the wildest waste,
10 Sae black and bare, sae black and bare, so
The desart were a paradise,
If thou wert there, if thou wert there.
Or were I monarch o’ the globe,
Wi’ thee to reign, wi’ thee to reign;
15 The brightest jewel in my crown,
Wad be my queen, wad be my queen. would
These beautiful lyrics, among the last Burns wrote, were dedicated to Jessy Lewars on her helping the poet (and Jean) during his illness.
Fairest Maid on Devon Banks
Tune: Rothiemurchie
First printed in Currie, 1800.
FULL well thou know’st I love thee dear,
Couldst thou to malice lend an ear!
O, did not Love exclaim, ‘Forbear,
Nor use a faithful lover so.’—
Chorus
5 Fairest maid on Devon banks,
Crystal Devon, winding Devon,
Wilt thou lay that frown aside,
And smile as thou wert wont to do.
Then come, thou fairest of the fair,
10 Those wonted smiles O let me share;
And by thy beauteous self I swear,
No love but thine my heart shall know. —
Fairest maid &c.
This was sent to Thomson on 12th July, 1796 when Burns was at the Brow Well, on the Solway Firth, hoping its bitter iron-dark waters and sea-bathing would help alleviate his rapidly deteriorating health. Letter 706 is profoundly moving; Burns, uncharacteristically, pleads with Thomson, forced to swallow his pride and independent spirit so normally fixed against being paid for song-writing, promptly to despatch £5 to him. As he told Thomson, a ‘cruel scoundrel of a Haberdasher’ had started legal action against him for a minor debt that, at this moment, he could not afford to pay. For Burns, this was his father’s nightmare come back to haunt the son. The ‘horrors of a jail’ he exclaimed exacerbated his illness and shook his nervous framework to the core. He had told Dr Moore that it was death that saved his father from the humiliation of being jailed for a debt. This was the last song and letter from Burns to Thomson. It was printed by Thomson in 1801.
Remorseful Apology
First printed in Currie, 1800.
THE friend whom, wild from Wisdom’s way
The fumes of wine infuriate send,
(Not moony madness more astray)
Who but deplores that hapless friend?
Mine was th’ insensate, frenzied part,
(Ah! why did I those scenes outlive,
Scenes so abhorrent to my heart!)
’Tis thine to pity and forgive. —
Currie printed this work as written to a ‘gentleman’ Burns had offended. Not in his commentary, but as a footnote to the poem in Vol. II, p. 642, Kinsley presents the following: ‘To Mr. J. McKenzie. The recipient’s note runs: Mr. Robt. Burns with a pretended excuse for having used my character ill – 1796 – Delivered to me by Mr. Syme, – opposite the Inn possessed by Mrs. Riddick, in Bank Street.
Graces – at the Globe Tavern
BEFORE DINNER
First printed in Oliver, Edinburgh, 1801.
O Lord, when hunger pinches sore,
Do Thou stand us in stead,
And send us from Thy bounteous store
A tup-or wether-head! ram or sheep-
Amen.
AFTER DINNER – 1
First printed in Chambers, 1851.
O Lord, since we have feasted thus,
Which we so little merit,
Let Meg now take away the flesh,
And Jock bring in the spirit!
AFTER DINNER – 2
First printed in The Literary Magnet, January 1826.
Lord we thank an’ Thee adore,
For temp’ral gifts we little merit;
At present we will ask no more,
Let William Hislop give the spirit.
All of the above graces are meant to have been used by Burns at his favourite ‘howff’, the Globe Tavern, Dumfries, now known as the Burns Howff (it has a thriving Burns Club). The Selkirk Grace has been omitted given that it was not composed by Burns (see our Doubtful and Rejected section in Appendix).
Lines Written on a Window
at the Globe Tavern, Dumfries
First printed in Duncan, Glasgow, 1801.
The greybeard, old Wisdom, may boast of his treasures,
Give me with gay Folly to live;
I grant him his calm-blooded, time-settled pleasures,
But Folly has raptures to give.
This, and the following epigram, was written extempore by Burns on the windows of the Globe Tavern, Dumfries. The conjectural date is sometime in 1795. The glass panes were in the possession of a Mr J. P. Brunton of Galashiels during the 1890s.
ANOTHER –
First printed in Duncan, Glasgow, 1801.
My bottle is a holy pool,
That heals the wounds o’ care an’ dool; woe
And pleasure is a wanton trout,
An ye drink it, ye’ll find him out. if you
Kinsley, then Mackay print as the last of these epigrams, the lines beginning ‘If in Politics thou wouldst mix’. There is no evidence they were etched by Burns with his diamond stylus during 1795. They have been moved to their proper chronological place, the first week
in 1793.
I Murder Hate
First printed in Duncan, Glasgow, 1801.
I murder hate by field or flood,
Tho’ Glory’s name may screen us;
In wars at hame I’ll spend my blood,
Life-giving wars of Venus:
5 The deities that I adore
Are social Peace and Plenty;
I’m better pleas’d to make one more,
Than be the death of twenty. —
I would not die like Socrates,
10 For all the fuss of Plato;
Nor would I with Leonidas,
Nor yet would I with Cato:
The zealots of the Church, or State,
Shall ne’er my mortal foes be;
15 But let me have bold ZIMRI’S1 fate
Within the arms of COZBI! —
The first stanza of this song was etched by Burns on a window in the Globe Tavern, Dumfries. The song is an anti-war statement against Britain’s war against America. This is certain due to the title on the Alloway mansucript, On the Great Recruiting in the Year 17 – During the American War (See Kinsley, Vol. III, no. 534, p. 1494). In 1795 the contemporary resonance of the lyric would have been judged as a criticism of Britain being at war with France.
1 See Numbers, ch. 25, vv. 8–15.
Kirk and State Excisemen
