Read The Canongate Burns Online
Authors: Robert Burns
The Canongate Burns (124 page)
This appears here for the first time.
              No Spartan tube, no Attic shell,
                     No lyre Ãolian I awake;
              âTis Liberty's bold note I swell,
                     Thy harp, Hibernia, let me take.
5
              See gathering thousands, while I sing,
              A broken chain, exulting, bring,
                     And dash it in a tyrant's face!
              And dare him to his very beard,
              And tell him he no more is fear'd,
10
       No more the Despot of Hibernia's race.
              A tyrant's proudest insults brav'd,
They shout, a People freed! They hail an Empire saved.
                       Where is Man's godlike form?
              Where is that brow erect and bold,
15
              That eye that can, unmov'd, behold
                 The wildest rage, the loudest storm,
        That e'er created Fury dared to raise!
                 Avaunt! thou caitiff, servile, base,
                 That tremblest at a Despot's nod,
20
                 Yet, crouching under the iron rod,
        Canst laud the arm that struck th' insulting blow!
                 Art thou of man's Imperial line?
                 Dost boast that countenance divine?
                 Each skulking feature answers, No!
25
                 But come, ye sons of Liberty,
                 Hibernia's offspring, brave as free,
        In danger's hour still flaming in the van,
Ye know, and dare maintain The Royalty of Man.
This early version of
Ode for General Washington's Birthday
refers to Hibernia (Ireland), and was sold in holograph in London during May 1862. It is recorded in manuscript along with many other authentic pieces which surfaced from the original Currie archives in Liverpool, as sold by auctioneers Puttock and Simpson. (A copy of the sales catalogue is in the Mitchell Library.) It would appear that the manuscript was later destroyed or is still in private hands. If the auction sale's catalogue had not been printed, no-one would have known that Burns crucially passed commentary on Irish political affairs. This was probably written in early 1794 when the Dublin offices of the Friends of the People were raided and their leaders arrested for seditious pamphleteering. By the end of 1794 over 200,000 people across Ireland had taken the oath of the radical and reformist group the United Irishmen, who had made links with many such groups in Scotland and England, particularly the United Scotsmen. Leading Irish radicals attended the National Convention of Friends of the People in Edinburgh.
First printed in 1801 by Oliver (Edinburgh);
then by Duncan, 1801 (Glasgow).
So vile was poor Wat, such a miscreant slave,
That the worms ev'n damn'd him when laid in his grave.
âIn his scull there is famine,' a starv'd reptile cries;
âAnd his heart it is poison,' another replies.
Walter Riddell (1764â1802) was Robert Riddell's younger brother.
He married Maria Woodely in 1790 and lived at Woodley Park.
Tune: O'er the Hills
First printed in Currie, 1800.
How can my poor heart be glad,
When absent from my Sailor lad;
How can I the thought forego,
He's on the seas to meet the foe:
5
Let me wander, let me rove,
Still my heart is with my Love;
Nightly dreams and thoughts by day
Are with him that's far away.
Chorus
On the seas and far away,
10
On stormy seas and far away,
Nightly dreams and thoughts by day,
Are ay with him that 's far away.
always
When in summer noon I faint,
As weary flocks around me pant,
15
Haply in this scorching sun
My Sailor 's thund'ring at his gun:
Bullets spare my only joy!
Bullets spare my darling boy!
Fate do with me what you may,
20
Spare but him that 's far away.
Chorus
On the seas and far away,
On stormy seas and far away,
Fate, do with me what you may,
Spare but him that's far away.
25
At the starless midnight hour
When Winter rules with boundless power;
As the storms the forests tear,
And thunders rend the howling air:
Listening to the doubling roar,
30
Surging on the rocky shore,
All I can â I weep and pray
For his weal that 's far away.
Chorus
On the seas and far away,
On stormy seas and far away,
35
All I can â I weep and pray
For his weal that 's far away.
Peace, thy olive wand extend
And bid wild War his ravage end,
Man with brother Man to meet,
40
And as brother kindly greet:
Then may Heaven with prosperous gales
Fill my Sailor's welcome sails,
To my arms their charge convey,
My dear lad that 's far away.
Chorus
45
On the seas and far away,
On stormy seas and far away,
To my arms their charge convey,
My dear lad that 's far away.
This was sent to Thomson on 30th August, 1794. Picking up on the poet's self-effacing remarks on the song (Letter 635), Thomson rejected it claiming that the young lady referred to would not plead that âbullets' should spare her lover. It is more probable Thomson rejected it on the grounds of its anti-war stance, given that he disliked every anti-war lyric by Burns. The lyric, like the new radical song
The Ewe Bughts
, is in the feminine voice.
On Miss Jessy Staig's Recovery
First printed in Currie, 1800.
Maxwell, if merit here you crave,
       That merit I deny:
You
save fair Jessie from the grave!
       An ANGEL could not die.
Jessy Staig was the daughter of David Staig, the Provost of Dumfries. Dr William Maxwell, son of James Maxwell of Kirkconnell, was born in 1760 and died in 1834. He studied medicine at Paris. He was a member of the guard at the execution of the King and Queen
of France, before returning to Scotland to practise medicine. When he raised a subscription to manufacture daggers for the French Republican army he was dubbed by the London
Sun
newspaper as Britain's most dangerous Jacobin. Burns, obviously proud of his friend, describes him to Mrs Dunlop as âthe identical Dr Maxwell whom Burke mentioned in the House of Commons' (Letter 637). See commentary on
The Dagger
. Robert Thornton's
William
Max
well to
Robert Burns
(Edinburgh, 1979) is informative but politically naïve
Second Version
First printed in Currie, 1800.
Hark, the mavis' evening sang
thrush, song
Sounding Clouden's woods amang;
among
Then a faulding let us gang,
to sheep pens, go
              My bonie Dearie.
Chorus
5
Ca' the yowes to the knowes,
call, ewes, hill slopes
        Ca' them whare the heather grows,
call/drive
Ca' them where the burnie rowes,
stream flows
        My bonie Dearie.
We'll gae down by Clouden side,
go
10
Thro' the hazels spreading wide
O'er the waves, that sweetly glide
              To the moon sae clearly.
so
                    Ca' the yowes, &c.
Yonder Clouden's silent towers
Where, at moonshine's midnight hours,
15
O'er the dewy bending flowers
              Fairies dance sae cheary.
                     Ca' the yowes, &c.
Ghaist nor bogle shalt thou fear;
ghost, demon
Thou'rt to Love and Heaven sae dear,
Nocht of Ill may come thee near,
nothing
20
              My bonie Dearie.
                     Ca' the yowes, &c.
Fair and lovely as thou art,
Thou hast stown my very heart;
stolen
I can die â but canna part,
cannot
              My bonie Dearie.
                     Ca' the yowes, &c.
This improved version was sent to Thomson in September 1794 (See Letter 636). He eventually printed the song in 1805. The Clouden is a small tributary of the river Nith and the âsilent towers' refer to Lincluden Abbey, built on the same design as Paisley Abbey. It is still a beautiful area to walk, especially in Autumn.
Or Sae Flaxen were her Ringlets
Tune: Oonagh's Waterfall
First printed by Johnson in S. M. M., December 1796.
Sae flaxen were her ringlets,
so
       Her eyebrows of a darker hue,
Bewitchingly o'er arching
       Twa laughing een o' bonie blue.â
two, eyes
5
Her smiling, sae wyling,
so, beguiling
       Wad make a wretch forget his woe;
would
What pleasure, what treasure,
       Unto those rosy lips to grow:
Such was my Chloris' bonie face,
10
       When first that bonie face I saw;
And ay my Chloris' dearest charm,
always
       She says, she lo'es me best of a'. â
loves, all
Like harmony her motion;
       Her pretty ankle is a spy,
15
Betraying fair proportion,
       Wad make a saint forget the sky. â
Sae warming, sae charming,
so
       Her fautless form and gracefu' air,
faultless
Ilk feature â auld Nature
each, old
20
       Declar'd that she could dae nae mair:
do no more
Hers are the willing chains o' love,
       By conquering Beauty's sovereign law;
And ay my Chloris' dearest charm,
       She says, she lo'es me best of a'. â
25
Let others love the city,
       And gaudy shew at sunny noon;
show
Gie me the lonely valley,
give
       The dewy eve, and rising moon
Fair beaming, and streaming
30
       Her silver light the boughs amang;
among
While falling, recalling,
       The amorous thrush concludes his sang;
song
There, dearest Chloris, wilt thou rove
       By wimpling burn and leafy shaw,
wood
35
And hear my vows o' truth and love,
       And say, thou lo'es me best of a'. â
This fine lyric is based on an old song Burns collected for
The Merry
Muses
, to which he adapted âdecent' verses, dedicating them to his âChloris' (Jean Lorimer). It was sent to both Johnson and Thomson. We have returned a few words spelt in English in previous editions to the original Scots.
Or a Revolutionary Lyric
First printed by Cunningham, 1834.
Why should we idly waste our prime
       Repeating our oppressions?
Come rouse to arms! âTis now the time
       To punish past transgressions.
5
'Tis said that Kings can do no wrong â
       Their murderous deeds deny it,
And since from us their power is sprung,
       We have a right to try it.
Now each true patriot's song shall be â
10
       âWelcome Death or Libertie!'
Proud Priests and Bishops we'll translate
       And canonize as Martyrs;
The guillotine on Peers shall wait;
       And Knights shall hang in garters.
15
Those Despots long have trode us down,
       And Judges are their engines:
Such wretched minions of a Crown
       Demand the people's vengeance!
To-day 'tis theirs. To-morrow we
20
       Shall don the Cap of Libertie!
The Golden Age we'll then revive:
       Each man will be a brother;
In harmony we all shall live,
       And share the earth together;
25
In Virtue train'd, enlighten'd Youth
       Will love each fellow-creature;
And future years shall prove the truth
       That Man is good by nature:
Then let us toast with three times three
       The reign of Peace and Libertie!
This song is given, on the basis of recent research, as one
improved
by Burns. The song originally appears, according to Mackay, in Cunningham (1834), then in Chambers (1838). Neither question its authenticity, given that it was, as Scott Douglas comments in the 1870s, found in manuscript. Scott Douglas dismissed it with
The
Tree of Liberty
on tenuous grounds:
The present editor has little doubt that this production, and also
The Tree of Liberty,
if really taken from Burns's MS, [must] have been merely transcribed by him from the pages of some wild Magazine of the period (Vol. II, p. 392).
This anti-radical prejudice was endorsed by Henderson and Henley in 1896. Robert Hughes, though, accepted the song in the 1920s. James Barke also endorsed it. Kinsley (1968) ignored it. Mackay followed suit, placing it in Appendix B of his
Burns:
A-Z, The
Complete Wordfinder
(no. 51, p. 731). Ross Roy brushed it aside in
Poems and Songs Spuriously Attributed to Robert Burns
without any argument (See Critical Essays on Robert Burns, ed. Carol McGuirk, G. K. Hall, New York, 1998, pp. 225â37).
Recent research located the original song, supposedly in the hand of the Scots London based radical leader of the London Corresponding Society, Thomas Hardy, a Scot, born in Larbert. The song is located in the Treasurer's Solicitor's Papers, Public Record Office, Kew, London, bundled among papers seized from Thomas Hardy's house when he was arrested on a spurious charge of High Treason at the end of 1794 (See TS 11/959/3505). The manuscript indicates that the song was written to the tune
The Vicar of Bray
. It is not in the handwriting of Hardy. It has been transcribed by a government official after the seizure and indicates in a head-note that it was found in the handwriting of a person unknown. This, however, is contradicted at the close of the song where it states âin
Hardy's hand'. It would be wrong to suppose Hardy as the original author, even if the latter note is correct. He was not known to write any songs or poetry. As the prime mover in the London Corresponding Society, which established links throughout Britain with leading radicals â including Burns's friend Lord Daer â it is almost certain that Hardy received the song from a reformist associate. Given that there is evidence a manuscript existed in Burns's hand, he must have received a copy from a radical friend, possibly even Hardy himself. Here is the original: