[Lockhart first gave this poetic curiosity to the world: he copied it from a small manuscript volume of Poems given by Burns to Lady Harriet Don, with an explanation in these words: "W. Chalmers, a gentleman in Ayrshire, a particular friend of mine, asked me to write a poetic epistle to a young lady, his Dulcinea. I had seen her, but was scarcely acquainted with her, and wrote as follows." Chalmers was a writer in Ayr. I have not heard that the lady was influenced by this volunteer effusion: ladies are seldom rhymed into the matrimonial snare.]

I.

Wi' braw new branks in mickle pride,

And eke a braw new brechan,

My Pegasus I'm got astride,

And up Parnassus pechin;

Whiles owre a bush wi' downward crush

The doitie beastie stammers; Then up he gets and off he sets

For sake o' Willie Chalmers.

V.

Some gapin' glowrin' countra laird,
May warstle for your favour;
May claw his lug, and straik his beard,
And hoast up some palaver.

My bonnie maid, before ye wed

Sic clumsy-witted hammers, Seek Heaven for help, and barefit skelp Awa' wi' Willie Chalmers.

VI.

Forgive the Bard! my fond regard
For ane that shares my bosom,
Inspires my muse to gie 'm his dues,
For de'il a hair I roose him.
May powers aboon unite you soon,
And fructify your amours,-
And every year come in mair dear
To you and Willie Chalmers.

II.

I doubt na, lass, that weel kenn'd name

May cost a pair o' blushes;

I am nae stranger to your fame,

Nor his warm urged wishes.

LYING AT A REVEREND FRIEND'S HOUSE ONE NIGHT, THE AUTHOR LEFT THE FOLLOWING

VERSES

IN THE ROOM WHERE HE SLEPT.

[Of the origin of these verses Gilbert Burns gives the following account. "The first time Robert heard the spinnet played was at the house of Dr. Lawrie, then minister of Loudon, now in Glasgow. Dr. Lawrie has several daughters; one of them played; the father and the mother led down the dance; the rest of the sisters, the brother, the poet and the other guests mixed in it. It was a delightful family scene for our poet, then lately introduced to the world: his mind was roused to a poetic enthusiasm, and the stanzas were left in the room where he slept."]

I.

O THOU dread Power, who reign'st above!
I know thou wilt me hear,

When for this scene of peace and love
I make my prayer sincere.

II.

The hoary sire-the mortal stroke,
Long, long, be pleased to spare;
To bless his filial little flock
And show what good men are.

TO GAVIN HAMILTON, ESQ.,

MAUCHLINE.

RECOMMENDING A BOY.)

[Verse seems to have been the natural language of Burns. The Master Tootie whose skill he records, lived in Mauchline, and dealt in cows: he was an artful and contriving person, great in bargaining and intimate with all the professional tricks by which old cows are made to look young, and six-pint hawkies pass for those of twelve.]

Mossgiel, May 3, 1786.

I.

I HOLD it, Sir, my bounden duty,
To warn you how that Master Tootie,
Alias, Laird M'Gaun,

Was here to hire yon lad away
'Bout whom ye spak the tither day,

An' wad ha'e done't aff han':
But lest he learn the callan tricks,
As, faith, I muckle doubt him,
Like scrapin' out auld Crummie's nicks,
An' tellin' lies about them;

As lieve then, I'd have then,
Your clerkship he should sair,
If sae be, ye may be

Not fitted otherwhere.

III.

She who her lovely offspring eyes
With tender hopes and fears,
O, bless her with a mother's joys,
But spare a mother's tears!

IV.

Their hope their stay-their darling youth,
In manhood's dawning blush-

Bless him, thou GOD of love and truth,
Up to a parent's wish!

V.

The beauteous, seraph sister-band,

With earnest tears I pray,

Thou know'st the snares on ev'ry hand— Guide Thou their steps alway.

VI.

When soon or late they reach that coast,
O'er life's rough ocean driven,
May they rejoice, no wanderer lost,
A family in Heaven!

II.

Altho' I say't, he's gleg enough,
An' bout a house that's rude an' rough
The boy might learn to swear;
But then wi' you, he'll be sae taught,
An' get sic fair example straught,

I havena ony fear.
Ye'll catechize him every quirk,

An' shore him weel wi' Hell;
An' gar him follow to the kirk-
-Ay when ye gang yoursel'.

If ye then, maun be then

Frae hame this comin' Friday;
Then please Sir, to lea'e Sir,
The orders wi' your lady.

III.

My word of honour I hae gien,
In Paisley John's, that night at e'n,
To meet the Warld's worm;
To try to get the twa to gree,
An' name the airles' an' the fee,
In legal mode an' form:

I ken he weel a snick can draw,

1 The airles-earnest money.

Auld Clinkum at the inner port

Cried three times-"Robin!

Come hither, lad, an' answer for❜t,

Ye're blamed for jobbin'."

Wi' pinch I pat a Sunday's face on, An' snoov'd away before the Session; i made an open fair confession

I scorn'd to lee;

An' syne Mess John, beyond expression,

Fell foul o' me.

For lack o' thee I've lost my lass,
For lack o' thee I scrimp my glass.
I see the children of affliction
Unaided, through thy cursed restriction
I've seen the oppressor's cruel smile
Amid his hapless victim's spoil:
And for thy potence vainly wished,

To crush the villain in the dust.

For lack o' thee, I leave this much-lov'd shore,
Never, perhaps, to greet old Scotland more.
R. B.

[With the Laird of Adamhill's personal character the reader is already acquainted: the lady about whose frailties the rumour alluded to was about to rise, has not been named, and it would neither be delicate nor polite to guess.]

I AM a keeper of the law

In some sma' points, altho' not a';
Some people tell me gin I fa'

Ae way or ither,
The breaking of ae point, though sma',
Breaks a' thegither.

I hae been in for't ance or twice,
And winna say o'er far for thrice,
Yet never met with that surprise

That broke my rest, But now a rumour's like to rise,

A whaup's i' the nest.

LXIV.

LINES

WRITTEN ON A BANK-NOTE.

[The bank-note on which these characteristic lines were endorsed, came into the hands of the late James. Gracie, banker in Dumfries: he knew the handwriting of Burns, and kept it as a curiosity. The concluding lines point to the year 1786, as the date of the composition.]

WAE worth thy power, thou cursed leaf,
Fell source o' a' my woe an' grief;

A DREA M.

"Thoughts, words, and deeds, the statute blames with

reason;

But surely dreams were ne'er indicted treason."

On reading, in the public papers, the "Laureate's Ode," with the other parade of June 4, 1786, the author was no sooner dropt asleep, than he imagined himself transported to the birth-day levee; and in his dreaming fancy made the following "Address."

[The prudent friends of the poet remonstrated with him about this Poem, which they appeared to think would injure his fortunes and stop the royal bounty to which he was thought entitled. Mrs. Dunlop, and Mrs. Stewart, of Stair, solicited him in vain to omit it in the Edinburgh edition of his poems. I know of no poem for which a claim of being prophetic would be so successfully set up: it is full of point as well as of the future. The allusions require no comment.]

GUID-MORNIN' to your Majesty!

May Heaven augment your blisses, On ev'ry new birth-day ye see,

A humble poet wishes!
My bardship here, at your levee,
On sic a day as this is,

Is sure an uncouth sight to see,
Amang thae birth-day dresses
Sae fine this day.

I see ye're complimented thrang,
By many a lord an' lady;
"God save the king!"'s a cuckco sang
That's unco easy said ay;
The poets, too, a venal gang,

Wi' rhymes weel-turn'd and ready, Wad gar you trow ye ne'er do wrang, But ay unerring steady,

On sic a day.