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Elegy

On the Death of Robert Ruisseaux

First printed in Cromek, 1808.

Now Robin lies in his last lair,

He'll gabble rhyme, nor sing nae mair,
talk, no more

Cauld Poverty, wi' hungry stare,
cold

               Nae mair shall fear him;
no more

5
Nor anxious Fear, nor cankert Care,
crabbed

               E'er mair come near him.
more

To tell the truth, they seldom fash't him,
troubled

Except the moment that they crush't him;

For sune as Chance or Fate had hush't 'em
soon

10
               Tho' e'er sae short,
so

Then wi' a rhyme or sang he lash't 'em,
song

               And thought it sport.

Tho' he was bred to kintra wark,
country-work

And counted was baith wight and stark,
both, sturdy, strong

15
Yet that was never Robin's mark

               To mak a man;

But tell him, he was learn'd and clark,
well read, scholar

               Ye roos'd him then!
roused

This mock-elegy was written during 1787. The poet plays on the French for ‘brook' by employing ‘Ruisseaux', meaning streams, i.e. Scottish
burns
. The reference to Jean Jacques Rousseau (1712–78), as a seminal influence on the French revolution was not noted by Kinsley.

On Robert Fergusson – I

First printed in Cromek, 1808.

Curse on ungrateful man, that can be pleas'd,

And yet can starve the author of the pleasure!

O thou, my elder brother in Misfortune,

By far my elder Brother in the Muse,

With tears I pity thy unhappy fate!

Why is the Bard unfitted for the world,

Yet has so keen a relish of its Pleasures?

See notes to
Epitaph: On Robert Fergusson
. These lines were inscribed by Burns in a copy of Fergusson's poetry he gifted to Rebeccah Carmichael on 19th March 1787, when he was in Edinburgh.

On Robert Fergusson – II

First printed in
The Scots Magazine
, November 1803.

ILL-FATED Genius! Heaven-taught Fergusson,

       What heart that feels and will not yield a tear,

To think Life's sun did set e'er well begun

       To shed its influence on thy bright career.

O why should truest Worth and Genius pine

       Beneath the iron grasp of Want and Woe,

While titled knaves and idiot-greatness shine

       In all the splendour Fortune can bestow?

These lines were inscribed by Burns in a copy of the periodical
The
World
. The enraged sentiments are heart felt and largely accurate in terms of Fergusson's untimely fate and prophetic with regard to his own.

To a Painter

First printed in Chambers, 1851.

DEAR –, I'll gie ye some advice,
give

        You'll tak it no uncivil:
take

You shouldna paint at angels, man,
should not

        But try and paint the Devil.

To paint an angel's kittle wark,
tricky work

        Wi' Nick there 's little danger;
the Devil

You'll easy draw a lang-kent face,
long-known

        But no sae weel a stranger.
so well

                        R.B.

There is no definitive manuscript proof that Burns wrote these lines. It is claimed the verses were written by Burns on the back of a sketch by an Edinburgh artist, whose identity is unknown. Kinsley merely refers to the Chambers-Wallace remarks (Vol. IV, p. 309) on the alleged origin of the lines. The verses are in the colloquial, impromptu style of Burns. Previous editors have probably been right to accept them.

On Elphinstone's Translation of Martial

First printed in Stewart, 1801.

O Thou, whom Poesy abhors,

Whom Prose has turnèd out of doors;

Heard'st thou yon groan? — proceed no further!

'Twas laurel'd Martial calling, Murther!

James Elphinstone (1721–1809) translated Martial's
Epigrams
and published them in 1782. Burns records in a letter of 14th January 1788 that ‘somebody' presented him with the translations while he was in Edinburgh and ‘asked my opinion of it' (see Letter 178). The poet viewed the book and after requesting permission to write his response on a blank leaf of the edition delivered the deadly evaluation.

To the Guidwife of Wauchope House

– Mrs. Scott

First printed (incomplete) by Currie, 1800.

Guidwife,
good

I mind it weel, in early date,
well

When I was beardless, young and blate,
bashful

        An' first cou'd thresh the barn,

5
Or haud a yokin at the pleugh,
hold, harnesses, plough

An' tho' fu' foughten sair eneugh,
exhausted, sore enough

        Yet unco proud to learn.
mighty

When first amang the yellow corn
among

        A man I reckon'd was;

10
An' wi' the lave ilk merry morn
others, each

        Could rank my rig and lass;
ridge

                Still shearing, and clearing

                        The tither stooked raw;
other, row/sheaths

                Wi' clavers an' haivers
gossip, nonsense

15
                        Wearing the day awa:
away

E'en then, a wish (I mind its power)

A wish, that to my latest hour

        Shall strongly heave my breast;

That I for poor auld Scotland's sake
old

20
Some useful plan, or book could make,

        Or sing a sang at least.
song

The rough burr-thistle spreading wide
Scots thistle

        Amang the bearded bear,
among, barley

I turn'd the weeding heuk aside,
hook/hoe

25
        An' spar'd the symbol dear.

                No nation, no station

                        My envy e'er could raise:

                A Scot still, but blot still,
without

                        I knew nae higher praise.
no

30
But still the elements o' sang
song

In formless jumble, right an' wrang,
wrong

        Wild floated in my brain;

Till on that hairst I said before,
harvest

My partner in the merry core,
crowd

35
        She rous'd the forming strain.

I see her yet, the sonsie quean,
buxom girl

        That lighted up my jingle;

Her pauky smile, her kittle een,
shrewd eyes

        That gart my heart-strings tingle.
made

40
                So tiched, bewitched,

                        I raved ay to mysel;
look

                But bashing and dashing,

                        I kend na how to tell.
always

Hale to the sex, ilk guid chiel says,
each good man

45
Wi' merry dance in winter-days,

        An' we to share in common:

The gust o' joy, the balm of woe,

The saul o' life, the heav'n below,
soul

        Is rapture-giving woman.

50
Ye surly sumphs, who hate the name,
boors

        Be mindfu' o' your mither:
mother

She, honest woman, may think shame

        That ye're connected with her.

                Ye're wae men, ye're nae men,
sad, no

55
                        That slight the lovely dears:

                To shame ye, disclaim ye,

                        Ilk honest birkie swears.
each, fellow

For you, na bred to barn and byre,

Wha sweetly tune the Scottish lyre,
who

60
        Thanks to you for your line.

The marl'd plaid ye kindly spare,
multi-coloured

By me should gratefully be ware;
worn

        ‘Twad please me to the Nine.
utmost

I'd be mair vauntie o' my hap,
more proud, clothes

65
        Douce hingin owre my curple,
soberly, over, crupper

Than ony ermine ever lap,
any, folded

        Or proud imperial purple.

                Farewell then, lang hale then,
long health

                        An' plenty be your fa':
lot

70
                May losses and crosses

                        Ne'er at your hallan ca'.
doorway/hall, call
 

R. Burns. March, 1787

    

Among the many verse epistles Burns received after the publication of his Kilmarnock edition, one of the best was by Elizabeth Scott
(1729–89) of Wauchope House, by Jedburgh. The poet visited her during his Border tour on 10th May 1787, describing her favourably but castigating her ‘hottentot' husband. Mrs Scott was married to a Walter Scott and was a niece of the poetess, Alison Cockburn. Her epistle to Burns appeared in the Scottish press during early 1796, probably sent to the press by Burns himself. Lines 25–30 of her work would have pleased the poet:

An' then sae slee ye crack yer jokes

O' Willie Pitt and Charlie Fox.

Our Great men a' sae weel descrive,

An' how to gar the nation thrive,

Ane maist wad swear ye dwalt amang them,

An' as ye saw them, sae ye sang them.

Indeed, Mrs Scott identifies exactly the unique vernacular quality of the subtly undermining intimacy Burns achieves with the political objects of his satire. It is this uniquely intimate tone that is one of our major reasons for accepting
The Dagger
and
A New Song
, into the canon.

Coleridge's enormous admiration for Burns's vernacular poetry (only Cowper of his English contemporaries found him linguistically opaque) achieved particular expression in stanza 3 in the thistle image:

I cannot here refuse myself the pleasure of recording a speech of the Poet Burns, related to me by the lady to whom it was addressed (Letter 541). Having been asked by her, why in his more serious Poems he had not changed the two or three Scotch words which seemed only to disturb the purity of the style? the poet with great sweetness and his usual happiness in reply, answered why in truth it would have been better, but (quotes ll. 20–24). An author may be allowed to quote from his own poems, when he does it with as much modesty and felicity as Burns did in this instance (Low,
The Critical Heritage,
p. 109).

To Miss Isabella McLeod

First printed in Chambers-Wallace, 1896.

The crimson blossom charms the bee,

        The summer sun the swallow;

So dear this tuneful gift to me

        From lovely Isabella.

Her portrait fair upon my mind

        Revolving time shall mellow;

And Mem'ry's latest effort find

        The lovely Isabella.

No Bard nor lover's rapture this,

        In fancies vain and shallow;

She is, so come my soul to bliss!

        The lovely Isabella.

Edinburgh, March 16, 1787

    

Isabella McLeod was a sister of John McLeod (See
On the Death of
John McLeod
), whose father was McLeod of Raasay. Her sister was the Countess of Loudon and it is probably this connection, through Mrs Dunlop, that led to her meeting the poet. Kinsley suggests that Gavin Hamilton may have introduced Burns to her.

Extempore in the Court of Session

Tune: Gilliecrankie
First printed by Cromek, 1808.

LORD ADVOCATE

He clench'd his pamphlets in his fist,

       He quoted and he hinted,

Till in a declamation-mist,

5
       His argument, he tint it:
lost it

He gaped for 't, he graped for 't,
groped

       He fand it was awa, man;
found, away

But what his common sense came short,

       He eked out wi' law, man.

10
MR. ERSKINE

Collected, HARRY stood awee,
a moment

Then open'd out his arm, man;

His lordship sat wi' ruefu' e'e,
eye

And ey'd the gathering storm, man:

15
Like wind-driv'n hail it did assail,

Or torrents owre a linn, man;
over, waterfall

The BENCH sae wise lift up their eyes,
so

Hauf-wauken'd wi' the din, man.
half-wakened

In 1787 Burns attanded the Court of Session to witness the case of Maxwell Campbell vrs. Captain James Montgomerie, who fathered a child by the former's wife. Harry Erskine (1746–1817) was the Dean of the Faculty and Ilay Campbell (1734–1823), Lord Advocate (prior to Robert Dundas taking the position). Erskine became a friend and patron of Burns, who, here catches perfectly the famous torrent of his allusive legal rhetoric.

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