Read The Canongate Burns Online
Authors: Robert Burns
The Canongate Burns (130 page)
Tune: Let Me in this ae Night
First printed in Currie, 1800.
FORLORN my Love, no comfort near,
Far, far from thee I wander here;
Far, far from thee, the fate severe
      At which I most repine, Love. â
Chorus
5
O wert thou, Love, but near me,
But near, near, near me;
How kindly thou wouldst chear me,
      And mingle sighs with mine, Love. â
Around me scowls a wintry sky,
10
Blasting each bud of hope and joy;
And shelter, shade, nor home have I,
      Save in these arms of thine, Love. â
            O wert thou, &c.
Cold, alter'd friends with cruel art
Poisoning fell Fortune's dart; â
15
Let me not break thy faithful heart,
      And say that fate is mine, Love. â
            O wert thou, &c.
But, dreary tho' the moments fleet,
O let me think we yet shall meet!
That only ray of solace sweet
20
      Can on thy Chloris shine, Love. â
            O wert thou, &c.
This was first sent to Thomson in June 1795 (Letter 672) but updated in early August that year (Letter 676). It was eventually printed by Thomson in 1805. Chloris, again, refers to Jean Lorimer.
Â
Tune: Auld Lang Syne or The Hopeless Lover
First printed in Thomson, 1799.
Now Spring has clad the grove in green,
clothed
      And strew'd the lea wi' flowers:
meadow
The furrow'd waving corn is seen
      Rejoice in fostering showers.
5
While ilka thing in Nature join
every
      Their sorrows to forego,
O why thus all alone are mine
      The weary steps o' woe. â
The trout within yon wimpling burn
10
      That glides, a silver dart,
And, safe beneath the shady thorn
      Defies the angler's art:
My life was ance that careless stream,
once
      That wanton trout was I;
15
But Love wi' unrelenting beam
      Has scorch'd my fountains dry. â
The little floweret's peaceful lot
      In yonder cliff that grows,
Which save the linnet's flight, I wot,
thrush's, guess
20
      Nae ruder visit knows,
no
Was mine; till Love has o'er me past,
      And blighted a' my bloom,
all
And now beneath the withering blast
      My youth and joy consume. â
25
The waken'd lav'rock warbling springs
lark
      And climbs the early sky,
Winnowing blythe his dewy wings
      In Morning's rosy eye;
As little reckt I sorrow's power,
heeded
30
      Until the flowery snare
O' witching Love, in luckless hour,
      Made me the thrall o' care. â
O had my fate been Greenland snows,
      Or Afric's burning zone,
35
Wi' Man and Nature leagu'd my foes,
      So Peggy ne'er I'd known!
The wretch, whose doom is, hope nae mair,
no more
      What tongue his woes can tell;
Within whose bosom save Despair
40
      Nae kinder spirits dwell. â
no
Burns sent the first sketch of this song to Maria Riddell, planning to âinterweave' the lines in the tale of a âShepherd, despairing beside a clear stream' (Letter 677). He sent it to Thomson in August 1795 (Letter 675).
Â
Tune: The Lothian Lassie
First printed in Thomson, 1799.
LAST May a braw wooer cam down the lang glen,
fine, came, long
And sair wi' his love he did deave me;
sore, deafen
I said there was naething I hated like men,
nothing
The deuce gae wi'm, to believe me, believe me,
go with him
5
       The deuce gae wi'm, to believe me.
He spak o' the darts in my bonie black een,
spoke, eyes
And vow'd for my love he was dying;
I said, he might die when he liket for JEAN â
The Lord forgie me for lying, for lying,
forgive
10
        The Lord forgie me for lying!
A weel-stocket mailen, himsel for the laird,
well-stocked farm
And marriage aff-hand, were his proffers:
off-, proposals
I never loot on that I kenn'd it, or car'd,
let, knew
But thought I might hae waur offers, waur offers,
have worse
Â
15
       But thought I might hae waur offers.
But what wad ye think? In a fortnight or less,
would
The Deil tak his taste to gae near her!
go
He up the lang loan to my black cousin, Bess!
Long [Lowther hills]
Guess ye how, the jad! I could bear her, could bear her,
hussy
20
       Guess ye how, the jad! I could bear her.
But a' the niest week as I fretted wi' care,
next
I gaed to the tryste o' Dalgarnock,
went, cattle fair
And wha but my fine, fickle lover was there,
who
I glowr'd as I'd seen a warlock, a warlock,
stared, wizard
25
       I glowr'd as I'd seen a warlock.
But owre my left shouther I gae him a blink,
over, gave, look
Lest neebours might say I was saucy:
neighbours
My wooer he caper'd as he'd been in drink,
drunk
And vow'd I was his dear lassie, dear lassie,
30
       And vow'd I was his dear lassie.
I spier'd for my cousin fu' couthy and sweet,
asked after, friendly
Gin she had recover'd her hearin,
if
And how her new shoon fit her auld shackl't feet;
shoes, old shackled
But, heavens! how he fell a swearin, a swearin,
35
       But, heavens! how he fell a swearin.
He begged, for Gudesake! I wad be his wife,
goodness, would
Or else I wad kill him wi' sorrow:
would
So e'en to preserve the poor body in life,
even/just
I think I maun wed him tomorrow, tomorrow,
shall
40
       I think I maun wed him tomorrow. â
This was sent to Thomson on 3rd July, 1795 (Letter 673). The poet gave a copy to David Staig, Provost of Dumfries. Kinsley makes a brief comment on the song, then quotes from Thomas Crawford (p. 300), âThis is one of Burns's best genre-songs; expressing “the interplay of character, motif and mask ⦠with ruthless economy”' (Vol. III, p. 1484). Mackay, characteristically, lifts both Kinsley's remark and that of Crawford without indicating his
source, â⦠it is one of Burns's best genre song [s], expressing “the inter-play of character, motif and mask ⦠with ruthless economy”' (p. 555).
Tune: The Caledonian Hunt's Delight
First printed in Currie, 1800.
WHY, why tell thy lover,
      Bliss he never must enjoy;
Why, why undeceive him,
      And give all his hopes the lie?
O why, while Fancy, raptured, slumbers,
      Chloris, Chloris, all the theme,
Why, why would'st thou cruel
      Wake thy lover from his dream.
This song, again on Chloris (Jean Lorimer), was sent to Thomson on 3rd July, 1795. The poet admitted that he found it difficult to write additional verses to the music (Letter 673).
Â
Independence
At Kerroughtrie, the Seat of Mr. Heron, Summer, 1795
First printed in Currie, 1800.
Thou, of an independent mind
With soul resolv'd, with soul resign'd;
Prepar'd Power's proudest frown to brave,
Who wilt not be, nor have a slave;
Virtue alone who dost revere,
Thy own reproach alone dost fear,
Approach this shrine, and worship here. â
On Patrick Heron, see notes to
The Heron Ballads
. Burns visited Heron's country house at Kirroughtrie in 1794, on his second tour of Galloway. The fact that these lines were written in the summer of 1795 suggests Burns may have visited Heron again that year, but there is no documented evidence to support this. Lines for an altar to âIndependence', dedicated to those who would face up to and
confront âPower's proudest frown to brave', are apt proof of the poet's continued radical commitment. Patrick Heron, more a career politician, erected no such altar.
First printed in Currie, 1800.
Written on the blank leaf of a copy of the last edition of my poems, presented to the lady whom, in so many fictitious reveries of passion, but with the most ardent sentiments of real friendship, I have so often sung under the name of â CHLORISâ.
'Tis Friendship's pledge, my young, fair FRIEND,
      Nor thou the gift refuse,
Nor with unwilling ear attend
      The moralising Muse.Â
5
Since thou, in all thy youth and charms,
      Must bid the world adieu,
(A world 'gainst Peace in constant arms)
      To join the Friendly Few:Â
Since, thy gay morn of life o'ercast,
10
      Chill came the tempest's lour;
(And ne'er Misfortune's eastern blast
      Did nip a fairer flower:)Â
Since life's gay scenes must charm no more;
      Still much is left behind,
15
Still nobler wealth hast thou in store,
      THE COMFORTS OF THE MIND!Â
Thine is the self-approving glow,
      Of conscious Honor's part;
And (dearest gift of Heaven below)
20
      Thine Friendship's truest heart.Â
The joys refin'd of Sense and Taste,
      With every Muse to rove:
And doubly were the Poet blest
      These joys could he improve. â
This was sent to Thomson on 3rd August, 1795. Chloris was, of course, the poetic name Burns employed for Jean Lorimer. The poet's own notes printed above explain the personal element of the song. L. 7, however, has a distinct political edge.
Tune: This is no My Ain House.
First printed in Thomson, 1799.
I see a form, I see a face,
Ye weel may wi' the fairest place:
well
It wants, to me, the witching grace,
       The kind love that's in her e'e.
eye
Chorus
5
O this is no my ain lassie,
own
Fair tho' the lassie be:
Weel ken I my ain lassie,
well know
       Kind love is in her e'e.
She's bonie, blooming, straight, and tall;
10
And lang has had my heart in thrall;
long
And ay it charms my very saul,
always, soul
       The kind love that's in the e'e.
              O this is no &c.
A thief sae pawkie is my Jean
so sly
To steal a blink, by a' unseen;
glance
15
But gleg as light are lover's een,
bright, eyes
       When kind love is in the e'e.
              O this is no &c.
It may escape the courtly sparks,
It may escape the learned clerks;
But well the watching lover marks
20
       The kind love that's in her e'e.
              O this is no &c.
This was sent to Thomson on 3rd August, 1795. Burns had known the melody for a few years and planned to write lyrics to it.
Tune: I Wish My Love Was in A Mire
First printed in Currie, 1800.
O BONIE was yon rosy brier,
       That blooms sae far frae haunt o' man;
so, from
And bonie she, and ah, how dear!
       It shaded frae the e'enin sun. â
from
Yon rosebuds in the morning dew
       How pure among the leaves sae green;
so
But purer was the lover's vow
       They witnessed in their shade yestreen. â
yesterday evening
All in its rude and prickly bower
       That crimson rose how sweet and fair;
But love is far a sweeter flower
       Amid life's thorny path o' care. â
The pathless wild, and wimpling burn,
meandering
       Wi' Chloris in my arms, be mine;
And I the warld nor wish nor scorn,
world
       Its joys and griefs alike resign.â
This was sent to Thomson in August 1795 but he did not print it until 1801.