No. CLIV. TO MRS 20th January, 1796. I CANNOT express my gratitude to you for allowing me a longer perusal of Anucharsis. In fact, I never met with a book that bewitched me so much; and I, as a member of the library, must warmly feel the obligation you have laid us under. Indeed to me the obligation is stronger than to any other individual of our society; as Anacharsis is an indispensable desideratum to a son of the muses. The health you wished me in your morning's card, is, I think, flown from me for ever. I have not been able to leave my bed to-day till about an hour ago. These wickedly unlucky advertisements Ï lent (I did wrong) to a friend, and I am ill able to go in quest of him. The muses have not quite forsaken me. The following detached stanzas I intend to interweave in some disastrous tale of a shepherd No. CLVI. TO MRS R WHO HAD DESIRED HIM TO GO TO THE BIRTHDAY ASSEMBLY ON THAT DAY TO SHOW HIS LOYALTY. 4th June, 1796. I AM in such miserable health as to be utterly incapable of showing my loyalty in any way. Racked as I am with rheumatisms, I meet every face with a greeting like that of Balak to Balaam-"Come curse me Jacob; and come defy me Israel!" So say I-Come curse me that east wind; and come, defy me the north! Would you have me, in such circumstances, to copy you out a love song? I may perhaps see you on Saturday, but I will not be at the ball.-Why should I? “man delights not me, nor woman either!" Can you supply me with the song, Let us all be unhappy together?-do if you can, and oblige le pauvre miserable R. B. No. CLV. TO MRS DUNLOP. 31st January, 1796. THESE many months you have been two packets in my debt-what sin of ignorance I have committed against so highly valued a friend I am utterly at a loss to guess. Alas! madam, ill can I afford at this time, to be deprived of any of the small remnant of my pleasures. I have lately drunk deep of the cup of affliction. The autumn robbed me of my only daughter and darling child, and that at a distance too, and so rapidly, as to put it out of my power to pay the last duties to her. I had scarcely begun to recover from that shock, when I became myself the victim of a most severe rheumatic fever, and long the die spun doubtful; until after many weeks of a sick-bed, it seems to have turned up life, and I am beginning to crawl across my room, and once indeed have been before my own door in the street. འ When pleasure fascinates the mental sight, No. CLVII. TO MR CUNNINGHAM. Brow, Sea-bathing Quarters, 7th July, 1796. MY DEAR CUNNINGHAM, For I RECEIVED yours here this moment, and am indeed highly flattered with the approbation of the literary circle you mention; a literary cir cle inferior to none in the two kingdoms. Alas! my friend, I fear the voice of the bard will soon be heard among you no more! these eight or ten months I have been ailing, sometimes bed fast and sometimes not; but these last three months I have been tortured with an excruciating rheumatism, which has reduced me to nearly the last stage. You actually would not know me if you saw me. Pale, emaciated, and so feeble, as occasionally to need help from my chair-my spirits fled! fled!--but I can no more on the subject-only the medical folks tell me that my last and only chance is bathing and country quarters, and riding. The deuce of the matter is this; when an exciseman is off duty, his salary is reduced to £35 instead of £50-What way, in the name of thrift, shall I maintain myself and keep a horse in country quarters-with a wife and five children at home, on £35? I mention this, because I had intended to beg your utmost interest, and that of all the friends you can muster, to move our Commissioners of Excise to grant me the full salary. I dare say you know them all personally. If they do not grant it me, I must lay my account with an exit truly en poete-if I die not of disease, I must perish with hunger. I have sent you one of the songs; the other my memory does not serve me with, and I have no copy here; but I shall be at home soon, when I will send it you. Apropos to being at home, Mrs Burns threatens in a week or two to add one more to my paternal charge, which, if of the right gender, I intend shall be introduced to the world by the respectable designation of Alexander Cunningham Burns: My last was James Glencairn; so you can have no objection to the company of nobility. Farewell. I DELAYED Writing until I could tell you what effect sea-bathing was likely to produce. It would be injustice to deny that it has eased my pains, and I think has strengthened me; but my appetite is still extremely bad. No flesh nor fish can I swallow; porridge and milk are the only thing I can taste. I am very happy to hear, by Miss Jess Lewars, that you are well. My very best and kindest compliments to her and to all the children. I will see you on Sunday. Your affectionate husband, R. B. MADAM, No. CLIX. TO MRS DUNLOP. 12th July, 1796. I HAVE written you so often, without receiving any answer, that I would not trouble you again, but for the circumstances in which I am. An illness which has long hung about me, in all prability will speedily send me beyond that bourne whence no traveller returns. Your friendship, with which for many years you honoured me, was a friendship dearest to ny soul. Your conversation, and especially your correspondence, were at once highly en tertaining and instructive. With what pleasure did I use to break up the seal! The remembrance yet adds one pulse more to my poor palpitating heart. Farewell!!! R. B. THE above is supposed to be the last production of ROBERT BURNS, who died on the 21st of the month, nine days afterwards. He had, however, the pleasure of receiving a satisfactory explanation of his friend's silence, and an assurance of the continuance of her friendship to his widow and children; an assurance that has been amply fulfilled. It is probable that the greater part of her letters to him were destroyed by our bard about the time that this last was written. He did not foresee that his own letters to her were to appear in print, nor conceive the disappointment that will be felt, that a few of this excellent lady's have not served to enrich and adorn the collec tion. TO THE NOBLEMEN AND GENTLEMEN OP THE CALEDONIAN HUNT. ancient heroes still runs uncontaminated; and that from your courage, knowledge, and public spirit, she may expect protection, wealth, and liberty. In the last place, I come to proffer my warmest wishes to the Great Fountain of Hon MY LORDS AND GENTLEMEN, A Scottish Bard, proud of the name, and whose highest ambition is to sing in his Country's service-where shall be so properly look for patronage as to the illustrious names of his native Land; those who bear the honour, the Monarch of the Universe, for your ours and inherit the virtues of their Ancestors? welfare and happiness. The Poetic Genius of my Country found me, as the prophetic bard Elijah did Elisha-at the plough; and threw her inspiring mantle over me. She bade me sing the loves, the joys, the rural scenes and rural pleasures of my native soil, in my native tongue; I tuned my wild, artless notes, as she inspired-She whispered me to come to this ancient Metropolis of Caledonia, and lay my Songs under your honoured protection: I now obey her dictates. When you go forth to awaken the Echoes, in the ancient and favourite amusement of your forefathers, may Pleasure ever be of your party; and may Social Joy await your return : When harassed in courts or camps with the jostlings of bad men and bad measures, may the honest consciousness of injured worth attend your return to your native Seats; and may Domestic Happiness, with a smiling welcome, meet you at your gates! May corruption shrink at your kindling indignant glance; and may tyranny in the Ruler, and licentiousness in the People, equally find you an inexorable Though much indebted to your goodness, I do not approach you, my Lords and Gentlemen, in the usual style of dedication, to thank foe! you for past favours; that path is so hackneyed by prostituted learning, that honest rusticity is ashamed of it. Nor do I present this Address with the venal soul of a servile Author, looking for a continuation of those favours: I was bred to the Plough, and am independent. I come to claim the common Scottish name with you, my illustrious Countrymen; and to tell the world that I glory in the title. I come to congratulate my Country, that the blood of her I have the honour to be, My Lords and Gentlemen, Edinburgh, ROBERT BURNS POEMS, CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. THE TWA DOGS: A TALE. TWAS in that place o' Scotland's isle, When wearing thro' the afternoon, The first I'll name they ca'd him Cæsar, His locked, letter'd, braw brass collar Show'd him the gentleman and scholar : But tho' be was o' high degree, The fient a pride na pride had he; But wad hae spent an hour caressin', Ev'n with a tinkler gipsey's messin'. At kirk or market, mill or smiddie, Nae tawted tyke, tho' e'er sae duddie, But he wad stan't, as glad to see him, And stroan't on stanes an' hillocks wi' him. The tither was a ploughman's collie, He was a gash an' faithfu' tyke, Cuchullin's dog in Ossiau's Fingal. Nae doubt but they were fain o' ither, An' unco pack an' thick thegither; Wi' social nose whyles snuff'd and snowkit; Whyles mice and modieworts they owkit; Whyles scour'd awa in lang excursion, An' worry'd ither in diversion; Until wi' daffin weary grown, Upon a knowe they sat them dow??, And there began a lang digression, About the lords o' the creation. CÆSAR. I've aften wonder'd honest Luath, Our Laird gets in his racked rents, As lang's my tail, whare, thro' the steeks, Frae morn to e'en its nought but toiling, His Honour has in a' the lan': LUATH. Trowth, Cæsar, whyles they're fash't eneugh; A cotter howkin in a sheugh, Wi' dirty stanes biggin a dyke, Baring a quarry, and sic like, Himself, a wife, he thus sustains, A smytrie o' wee duddie weans, An' nought but his han' darg, to keep Them right and tight in thack ar' rape. |