Ye ugly, creepin, blastit wonner, Detested, shunn'd by saunt an' sinner, How dare ye set your fit upon her, Sae fiue a lady! I Gae somewhere else, and seek your dinner On some poor body. Swith, in some beggar's haffet 3 squat tle; There ye may creep, and sprawl, and sprattle 4 Wi' ither kindred, jumping cattle, Your thick plantations. Now haud ye there, ye're out o' sight, The vera tapmost, tow'ring height My sooth! right bauld ye set your nose out, As plump and gray as onie grozet: 6 Or fell, red smeddum,7 Wad dress your droddum ! 8 I wad na been surpris'd to spy O Jenny, dinna toss your head, The blastie's 12 makin! Thae winks and finger-ends, I dread, Are notice takin! 1 Professor Walker informs us that "Burns passed two or three days with the Duke of Athole, and was highly delighted by the attention he received, and the company to whom he was introduced. By the Duke's advice he visited the falls of Bruar, and in a few days I received a letter from Inverness, with the above verses inclosed." These lines were first written over the chimney-piece in the parlour of the inn al Kenmore. EDINA! Scotia's darling seat! All hail thy palaces and tow'rs, Where once beneath a monarch's feet Sat Legislation's sov'reign pow'rs! From marking wildly-scatter'd flow'rs, As on the banks of Ayr I stray'd, And singing, lone, the ling'ring hours, I shelter in thy honour'd shade. Here wealth still swells the golden tide, As busy Trade his labours plies; There Architecture's noble pride Bids elegance and splendour rise; Here Justice, from her native skies, High wields her balance and her rod; There Learning, with his eagle eyes, Seeks Science in her coy abode. Thy sons, Edina, social, kind, With open arms the stranger hail; Their views enlarg'd, their lib'ral mind, Above the narrow, rural vale; Atentive still to sorrow's wail, Or modest merit's silent claim: And never may their sources fai!! And never envy blot their name ! 73 Thy daughters bright thy walks adorn, Gay as the gilded summer sky, Sweet as the dewy milk-white thorn, Dear as the raptur'd thrill of joy! Fair Burnet' strikes th' adoring eye, Heav'n's beauties on my fancy shine, I see the Sire of Love on high, And own his work indeed divine! There watching high the least alarms, Thy rough rude fortress gleams afar: Like some bold vet'ran, gray in arms, And mark'd with many a seamy scar: The pond'rous wall and massy bar, Grim-rising o'er the rugged rock, Have oft withstood assailing war, And oft repell'd th' invader's shock. With awe-struck thought, and pitying tears, I view that noble, stately dome, Where Scotia's kings of other years, Fam'd heroes, had their royal home: Alas, how chang'd the times to come! Their royal name low in the dust! Their hapless racewild-wand'ring roam! Tho' rigid law cries out, 'twas just ! Wild beats my heart, to trace your steps, Haply my sires have left their shed, And fac'd grim danger's loudest roar, Bold-following where your fathers led! Edina! Scotia's darling seat! All hail thy palaces and towr's, Where once beneath a monarch's feet Sat Legislation's sovereign pow'rs! From marking wildly-scatter'd flow'rs, As on the banks of Ayr I stray'd, And singing, lone, the ling'ring hours, I shelter in thy honour'd shade. 'Daughter of Lord Monboddo. Burns said there had not been ar ything like her, in beauty, grace, and goodness, since Eve on the first day of her exist ence. EPISTLE TO JOHN LAPRAIK, AN OLD SCOTTISH BARD.' April 1st, 1785. WHLE briers an' woodbines budding green, An' paitricks scraichin loud at e'en, This freedom in an unknown frien' On Fasten-een we had a rockin, To ca' the crack and weave our stockin: At length we had a hearty yokin 5 The "Epistle to John Lapraik" was produced exactly on the occasion described by the author. He says in that poem, "On fasten-e'en we had a rockin." I believe he has omitted the word rocking in the glossary. It is a term derived from those primitive times, when the country-women employed their spare hours in spinning on the rock, or distaff. This simple implement is a very portable one, and well fitted to the social inclination of meeting in a neighbour's house; hence the phrase of going a-rocking, or with the rock. As the connexion the phrase had with the implement was forgotten when the rock gave place to the spinning-wheel, the phrase came to be used by both sexes on social occasions, and men talk of going with their rocks as well as vomen. It was at one of these rockings at our house, when we had twelve or fifteen young people with their rocks, that Lapraik's song, beginning, "When I upon thy bosom lean," was ung, and we were informed who was the author. Upon this Robert wrote his first Epistle to Lapraik; and his Becord in reply to his answer.-G. B. Partridges. 3 Hare. • Running. 5 A bout. I've scarce heard aught describes sae weel, What gen'rous, manly bosoms feel: Thought I, "Can this be Pope, or Steele, Or Beattie's wark?" It pat me fidgin-fain2 to hear't, That nane excell'd it, few cam near❜t That, set him to a pint of ale, 'Tween Inverness and Tiviotdale Then up Or die a cadger pownie's death, A pint an' gill I'd gie them baith Tho' rude an' rough, I am nae Poet, in a sense, Citi:ay cock their nose, And say, "How can you e'er propose, You wha ken hardly verse frae prose, To mak a sang?" But by your leaves, my learned foes, Ye're maybe wrang. What's a' your jargon o' your schools, Your Latin names for horns an' stools; If honest nature made you fools, What sairs' your grammars? Ye'd better taen up spades and shools, Or knappin 2-hammers. A set o' dull, conceited hashes,3 Confuse their brains in college classes! They gang in stirks,4 and come out asses, Plain truth to speak; An' syne 5 they think to climb Parnassus Gie me ae spark o' Nature's fire, My Muse, though hamely in attire, O for a spunk7 o' Allan's glee, That would be lear 8 ĕneugh for me, Now, Sir, if ye hae friends enow, I'se no insist, But gif ye want ae friend that's true, I'm on your list. I winna blaw about mysel; As ill I like my fauts to tell; But friends and folk that wish me well, They sometimes roose' 'Tho' I maun own, as monie still As far abuse me. me; Formon's a plack they wheedle frae mo At dance or fair; Maybe some ither thing they gie me They weel can spare. But Mauchline race, or Mauchline fair, An' hae a swap2 o' rhymin-ware The four-gill chap, we'se gar him clatter, An' faith, we'se be acquainted beer Before we part. Awa ye selfish warly 5 race, Wha think that havins, sense, an' grace, Ev'n love an' friendship, should give place To catch-the-plack! I dinna like to see your face, This hour on e'enin's' edge I take, To honest-hearted, auld Lapraik, Forjesket sair, with weary legs, Their ten-hours' bite, My awkwart Muse sair pleads and begs, I would na write. The tapetless,3 ramfeezl'd 4 hizzie, She's saft at best, and something lazy, Quo' she, "Ye ken, we've been sae busy, This month an' mair, That trouth my head is grown right dizzie, An' something sair." Her dowff 5 excuses pat me mad; I'll write, an' that a hearty blaud, So dinna ye affront your trade, "Shall bauld Lapraik, the king o' hearts, Tho' mankind were a pack o' cartes,? Roose you sae weel for your deserts, In terms sae friendly, Yet ye'll neglect to shaw your parts, Sae I gat paper in a blink, An' if ye winna mak it clink, By Jove, I'll prose it!" Sae I've begun to scrawl, but whether In rhyme, or prose, or baith thegither, Or some hotch-potch that's rightly neither, Let time mak proof; But I shall scribble down some blether 8 Jus clean aff-loof.9 Evening's. 3 Foolish. Lazy. mer, I've seen the bud upo' the timmer, But yet, despite the kittle kimm £,4 Do ye envy the city Gent, In some bit Brugh to represent Or is't the paughty,8 feudal Thane, But lordly stalks, While caps and bonnets aff are ta'en, "O Thou wha gies us each guid gift! Were this the charter of our state, We learn our cred. Unpremeditated. |