TO A MOUSE, ON TURNING HER UP IN HER NEST WITH THE WEE, sleeket, cowrin, tim'rous beastie, Wi' bickerin * brattle !† I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee, Wi' murderin' pattle ! + I'm truly sorry man's dominion, Which makes thee startle At me, thy poor, earth-born companion, An' fellow-mortal! I doubt na, whyles,§ but thou may thieve; ** 'S a sma' request; I'll get a blessin wi' the lave, †† An' never miss't! Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin! An' naething, now, to big ‡‡ a new ane, O' foggage green! An' bleak December's winds ensuin, Baith snell §§ an' keen! occasional. Tear of corn. ** twenty-four sheaves. tt remainder. Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste, An' cozie here, beneath the blast, Thou thought to dwell Till crash! the cruel coulter past Out thro' thy cell. That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble, To thole the winter's sleety dribble, An' cranreuch § cauld! But Mousie, thou art no thy lane, An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain, Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me! On prospects drear ! An' forward, tho' I canna see, I guess an' fear ! ["It is difficult to decide (writes Currie) whether this 'Address' should be considered as serious or comic. If we smile at the 'bickering brattle' of this little flying animal, it is a smile of tenderness and pity. The descriptive part is admirable; the moral reflections beautiful, arising directly out of the occasion; and in the conclusion there is a deep melancholy, a sentiment of doubt and dread that rises to the sublime."] without. † holding. suffer. crisp hoar-frost. llawry. EPITAPH ON JOHN DOVE, INNKEEPER. HERE lies Johnie Pigeon; Whaever desires to ken, To some other warl' Maun follow the carl, For here Johnie Pigeon had nane ! Strong ale was ablution— Small beer-persecution, A dram was "memento mori;" But a full-flowing bowl Was the saving his soul, And port was celestial glory. [John Dove, or more familiarly, "Johnie Doo was mine host of the Whitefoord Arms Inn at Mauchline, in the main street, opposite the church, at the corner of a cross street, named Cowgate. If we mistake not, he was the "Paisley John" of another poem by Burns, which would indicate that he originally hailed from that town. We have Gilbert Burns' authority for believing that the poet never frequented public houses till he had almost formed the resolution to become an author. Certain it is, before the close of the year 1735, Burns was the leading member of a bachelor's club of a very odd character which held stated meetings at the "Whitefoord Arms." It was a kind of secret association, the professed object of which was to search out, report, and discuss the merits and demerits of the many scandals that cropped up from time to time in the village. The poet was made perpetual president; John Richmond, a clerk with Gavin Hamilton, was appointed "Clerk of Court"; James Smith, a draper in the village, was named "procurator fiscal," and to William Hunter, shoemaker-"weel skill'd in dead and living leather "-was assigned the office of " messengerat-arms." Having premised thus much concerning this club of rare fellows, some of its effects on Burns' musings we shall now proceed to give.] EPITAPH FOR JAMES SMITH. LAMENT him, Mauchline husbands a', For had ye staid hale weeks awa, Your wives they ne'er had miss'd ye. Ye Mauchline bairns, as on ye press O tread ye lightly on his grass,—— Perhaps he was your father! [The poet, in his fine "Epistle to J. S.," describes his friend as of "scrinipet stature," but of manly configuration and character.] ADAM ARMOUR'S PRAYER. GUDE pity me, because I'm little ! An' can, like ony wabster's * shuttle, Jink there or here, Yet, scarce as lang's a guide kail-whittle,+ An' now Thou kens our woefu' case; For Geordie's "jurr" § we're in disgrace, Because we "stang'd "1 her through the place, An' hurt her spleuchan ; || For whilk we daurna show our face Within the clachan.T An' now we're dernd ** in dens and hollows, But Gude preserve us frae the gallows, That shamefu' death! 1 "Riding the stang was a kind of lynch law, executed against obnoxious persons, by carrying them shoulder-high through the village astride a rantle-tree. Auld grim black-bearded Geordie's sel'— There let him hing, an' roar, an' yell And if he offers to rebel, Then heave him in. When Death comes in wi' glimmerin blink, Within his yett, An' fill her up wi' brimstone drink, Red-reekin het. Though Jock an' hav'rel* Jean2 are merry- An' waft them in th' infernal wherry Straught through the lake, An' gie their hides a noble curry Wi' oil of aik !+ As for the "jurr”—puir worthless body! But, may she wintle in a woody, If she wh-e mair! [This production is one of a group of hasty comic effusions dashed off by Burns at this period in connection with the Whitefoord Arms convention already spoken of. The parents of Jean Armour lived at the back of the Inn; but her namesake who is the subject of the present poem was in no way related to her. The "Geordie" of the piece was another Mauchline innkeeper, whose "jurr," or female servant, had committed some error that caused a kind of "hue and cry" against her among the neighbours. Thus encouraged, a band of reckless young fellows, with Adam Armour for a ✰ spin round on the gallows. * silly. † an oaken stick. 1 Geordie's wife. 2 Geordie's son and daughter. |