Awa’, Whigs, Awa’ (Song)
Chorus. — Awa’ Whigs, awa’!
Awa’ Whigs, awa’!
Ye’re but a pack o’ traitor louns,
Ye’ll do nae gude at a’.
OUR thrissles flourish’d fresh and fair, 5
And bonie bloom’d our roses;
But Whigs cam’ like a frost in June,
An’ wither’d a’ our posies.
Awa’ Whigs, &c.
Our ancient crown’s fa’en in the dust — 10
Deil blin’ them wi’ the stoure o’t!
An’ write their names in his black beuk,
Wha gae the Whigs the power o’t.
Awa’ Whigs, &c.
Our sad decay in church and state 15
Surpasses my descriving:
The Whigs cam’ o’er us for a curse,
An’ we hae done wi’ thriving.
Awa’ Whigs, &c.
Grim vengeance lang has taen a nap, 20
But we may see him wauken:
Gude help the day when royal heads
Are hunted like a maukin!
Awa’ Whigs, &c.
Chronological List of Poems
Alphabetical List of Poems
290.
A Waukrife Minnie (Song)
WHARE are you gaun, my bonie lass,
Whare are you gaun, my hinnie?
She answered me right saucilie,
“An errand for my minnie.”
O whare live ye, my bonie lass, 5
O whare live ye, my hinnie?
“By yon burnside, gin ye maun ken,
In a wee house wi’ my minnie.”
But I foor up the glen at e’en.
To see my bonie lassie; 10
And lang before the grey morn cam,
She was na hauf sae saucie.
O weary fa’ the waukrife cock,
And the foumart lay his crawin!
He wauken’d the auld wife frae her sleep, 15
A wee blink or the dawin.
An angry wife I wat she raise,
And o’er the bed she brocht her;
And wi’ a meikle hazel rung
She made her a weel-pay’d dochter. 20
O fare thee weel, my bonie lass,
O fare thee well, my hinnie!
Thou art a gay an’ a bonnie lass,
But thou has a waukrife minnie.
Chronological List of Poems
Alphabetical List of Poems
291.
The Captive Ribband (Song)
Tune— “Robaidh dona gorach.”
DEAR Myra, the captive ribband’s mine,
‘Twas all my faithful love could gain;
And would you ask me to resign
The sole reward that crowns my pain?
Go, bid the hero who has run 5
Thro’ fields of death to gather fame,
Go, bid him lay his laurels down,
And all his well-earn’d praise disclaim.
The ribband shall its freedom lose —
Lose all the bliss it had with you, 10
And share the fate I would impose
On thee, wert thou my captive too.
It shall upon my bosom live,
Or clasp me in a close embrace;
And at its fortune if you grieve, 15
Retrieve its doom, and take its place.
Chronological List of Poems
Alphabetical List of Poems
292.
Farewell to the Highlands (Song)
Tune— “Failte na Miosg.”
FAREWELL to the Highlands, farewell to the North,
The birth-place of Valour, the country of Worth;
Wherever I wander, wherever I rove,
The hills of the Highlands for ever I love.
Chorus. — My heart’s in the Highlands, my heart is not here, 5
My heart’s in the Highlands, a-chasing the deer;
Chasing the wild-deer, and following the roe,
My heart’s in the Highlands, wherever I go.
Farewell to the mountains, high-cover’d with snow,
Farewell to the straths and green vallies below; 10
Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods,
Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods.
My heart’s in the Highlands, &c.
Chronological List of Poems
Alphabetical List of Poems
293.
The Whistle: A Ballad
I SING of a Whistle, a Whistle of worth,
I sing of a Whistle, the pride of the North.
Was brought to the court of our good Scottish King,
And long with this Whistle all Scotland shall ring.
Old Loda, still rueing the arm of Fingal, 5
The god of the bottle sends down from his hall —
“The Whistle’s your challenge, to Scotland get o’er,
And drink them to hell, Sir! or ne’er see me more!”
Old poets have sung, and old chronicles tell,
What champions ventur’d, what champions fell: 10
The son of great Loda was conqueror still,
And blew on the Whistle their requiem shrill.
Till Robert, the lord of the Cairn and the Scaur,
Unmatch’d at the bottle, unconquer’d in war,
He drank his poor god-ship as deep as the sea; 15
No tide of the Baltic e’er drunker than he.
Thus Robert, victorious, the trophy has gain’d;
Which now in his house has for ages remain’d;
Till three noble chieftains, and all of his blood,
The jovial contest again have renew’d. 20
Three joyous good fellows, with hearts clear of flaw
Craigdarroch, so famous for with, worth, and law;
And trusty Glenriddel, so skill’d in old coins;
And gallant Sir Robert, deep-read in old wines.
Craigdarroch began, with a tongue smooth as oil, 25
Desiring Downrightly to yield up the spoil;
Or else he would muster the heads of the clan,
And once more, in claret, try which was the man.
“By the gods of the ancients!” Downrightly replies,
“Before I surrender so glorious a prize, 30
I’ll conjure the ghost of the great Rorie More,
And bumper his horn with him twenty times o’er.”
Sir Robert, a soldier, no speech would pretend,
But he ne’er turn’d his back on his foe, or his friend;
Said, “Toss down the Whistle, the prize of the field,” 35
And, knee-deep in claret, he’d die ere he’d yield.
To the board of Glenriddel our heroes repair,
So noted for drowning of sorrow and care;
But, for wine and for welcome, not more known to fame,
Than the sense, wit, and taste, of a sweet lovely dame. 40
A bard was selected to witness the fray,
And tell future ages the feats of the day;
A Bard who detested all sadness and spleen,
And wish’d that Parnassus a vineyard had been.
The dinner being over, the claret they ply, 45
And ev’ry new cork is a new spring of joy;
In the bands of old friendship and kindred so set,
And the bands grew the tighter the more they were wet.
Gay Pleasure ran riot as bumpers ran o’er:
Bright Phoebus ne’er witness’d so joyous a core, 50
And vow’d that to leave them he was quite forlorn,
Till Cynthia hinted he’d see them next morn.
Six bottles a-piece had well wore out the night,
When gallant Sir Robert, to finish the fight,
Turn’d o’er in one bumper a bottle of red, 55
And swore ‘twas the way that their ancestor did.
Then worthy Glenriddel, so cautious and sage,
No longer the warfare ungodly would wage;
A high Ruling Elder to wallow in wine;
He left the foul business to folks less divine. 60
The gallant Sir Robert fought hard to the end;
But who can with Fate and quart bumpers contend!
Though Fate said, a hero should perish in light;
So uprose bright Phoebus-and down fell the knight.
Next uprose our Bard, like a prophet in drink: — 65
“Craigdarroch, thou’lt soar when creation shall sink!
But if thou would flourish immortal in rhyme,
Come — one bottle more — and have at the sublime!
“Thy line, that have struggled for freedom with Bruce,
Shall heroes and patriots ever produce: 70
So thine be the laurel, and mine be the bay;
The field thou hast won, by yon bright god of day!”
Chronological List of Poems
Alphabetical List of Poems
294.
To Mary in Heaven (Song)
THOU ling’ring star, with lessening ray,
That lov’st to greet the early morn,
Again thou usher’st in the day
My Mary from my soul was torn.
O Mary! dear departed shade! 5
Where is thy place of blissful rest?
See’st thou thy lover lowly laid?
Hear’st thou the groans that rend his breast?
That sacred hour can I forget,
Can I forget the hallow’d grove, 10
Where, by the winding Ayr, we met,
To live one day of parting love!
Eternity will not efface
Those records dear of transports past,
Thy image at our last embrace, 15
Ah! little thought we ‘twas our last!
Ayr, gurgling, kiss’d his pebbled shore,
O’erhung with wild-woods, thickening green;
The fragrant birch and hawthorn hoar,
‘Twin’d amorous round the raptur’d scene: 20
The flowers sprang wanton to be prest,
The birds sang love on every spray;
Till too, too soon, the glowing west,
Proclaim’d the speed of winged day.
Still o’er these scenes my mem’ry wakes, 25
And fondly broods with miser-care;
Time but th’ impression stronger makes,
As streams their channels deeper wear,
My Mary! dear departed shade!
Where is thy blissful place of rest? 30
See’st thou thy lover lowly laid?
Hear’st thou the groans that rend his breast?
Chronological List of Poems
Alphabetical List of Poems
295.
Epistle to Dr. Blacklock
ELLISLAND, 21st Oct., 1789.
WOW, but your letter made me vauntie!
And are ye hale, and weel and cantie?
I ken’d it still, your wee bit jauntie
Wad bring ye to:
Lord send you aye as weel’s I want ye! 5
And then ye’ll do.
The ill-thief blaw the Heron south!
And never drink be near his drouth!
He tauld myself by word o’ mouth,
He’d tak my letter; 10
I lippen’d to the chiel in trouth,
And bade nae better.
But aiblins, honest Master Heron
Had, at the time, some dainty fair one
To ware this theologic care on, 15
And holy study;
And tired o’ sauls to waste his lear on,
E’en tried the body.
But what d’ye think, my trusty fere,
I’m turned a gauger — Peace be here! 20
Parnassian queans, I fear, I fear,
Ye’ll now disdain me!
And then my fifty pounds a year
Will little gain me.
Ye glaikit, gleesome, dainty damies, 25
Wha, by Castalia’s wimplin streamies,
Lowp, sing, and lave your pretty limbies,
Ye ken, ye ken,
That strang necessity supreme is
‘Mang sons o’ men. 30
I hae a wife and twa wee laddies;
They maun hae brose and brats o’ duddies;
Ye ken yoursels my heart right proud is —
I need na vaunt
But I’ll sned besoms, thraw saugh woodies, 35
Before they want.
Lord help me thro’ this warld o’ care!
I’m weary sick o’t late and air!
Not but I hae a richer share
Than mony ithers; 40
But why should ae man better fare,
And a’ men brithers?
Come, Firm Resolve, take thou the van,
Thou stalk o’ carl-hemp in man!
And let us mind, faint heart ne’er wan 45
A lady fair:
Wha does the utmost that he can,
Will whiles do mair.
But to conclude my silly rhyme
(I’m scant o’ verse and scant o’ time), 50
To make a happy fireside clime
To weans and wife,
That’s the true pathos and sublime
Of human life.
My compliments to sister Beckie, 55
And eke the same to honest Lucky;
I wat she is a daintie chuckie,
As e’er tread clay;
And gratefully, my gude auld cockie,
I’m yours for aye.
ROBERT BURNS. 60
Chronological List of Poems
Alphabetical List of Poems
296.
The Five Carlins: An Election Ballad
An Election Ballad.
Tune— “Chevy Chase.”
THERE was five Carlins in the South,
They fell upon a scheme,
To send a lad to London town,
To bring them tidings hame.
Nor only bring them tidings hame, 5
But do their errands there,
And aiblins gowd and honor baith
Might be that laddie’s share.
There was Maggy by the banks o’ Nith,
A dame wi’ pride eneugh; 10
And Marjory o’ the mony Lochs,
A Carlin auld and teugh.
And blinkin Bess of Annandale,
That dwelt near Solway-side;
And whisky Jean, that took her gill, 15
In Galloway sae wide.
And auld black Joan frae Crichton Peel,
O’ gipsy kith an’ kin;
Five wighter Carlins were na found
The South countrie within. 20
To send a lad to London town,
They met upon a day;
And mony a knight, and mony a laird,
This errand fain wad gae.
O mony a knight, and mony a laird, 25
This errand fain wad gae;
But nae ane could their fancy please,
O ne’er a ane but twae.
The first ane was a belted Knight,
Bred of a Border band; 30
And he wad gae to London town,
Might nae man him withstand.
And he wad do their errands weel,
And meikle he wad say;
And ilka ane about the court 35
Wad bid to him gude-day.
The neist cam in a Soger youth,
Who spak wi’ modest grace,
And he wad gae to London town,
If sae their pleasure was. 40
He wad na hecht them courtly gifts,
Nor meikle speech pretend;
But he wad hecht an honest heart,
Wad ne’er desert his friend.
Now, wham to chuse, and wham refuse, 45
At strife thir Carlins fell;
For some had Gentlefolks to please,
And some wad please themsel’.
Then out spak mim-mou’d Meg o’ Nith,
And she spak up wi’ pride, 50
And she wad send the Soger youth,
Whatever might betide.
For the auld Gudeman o’ London court
She didna care a pin;
But she wad send the Soger youth, 55
To greet his eldest son.
Then up sprang Bess o’ Annandale,
And a deadly aith she’s ta’en,
That she wad vote the Border Knight,
Though she should vote her lane. 60
“For far-off fowls hae feathers fair,
And fools o’ change are fain;
But I hae tried the Border Knight,
And I’ll try him yet again.”
Says black Joan frae Crichton Peel, 65
A Carlin stoor and grim.
“The auld Gudeman or young Gudeman,
For me may sink or swim;
For fools will prate o’ right or wrang,
While knaves laugh them to scorn; 70
But the Soger’s friends hae blawn the best,
So he shall bear the horn.”
Then whisky Jean spak owre her drink,
“Ye weel ken, kimmers a’,
The auld gudeman o’ London court, 75
His back’s been at the wa’;
“And mony a friend that kiss’d his caup
Is now a fremit wight;
But it’s ne’er be said o’ whisky Jean —
We’ll send the Border Knight.” 80
Then slow raise Marjory o’ the Lochs,
And wrinkled was her brow,
Her ancient weed was russet gray,
Her auld Scots bluid was true;
“There’s some great folk set light by me, 85
I set as light by them;
But I will send to London town
Wham I like best at hame.”
Sae how this mighty plea may end,
Nae mortal wight can tell; 90
God grant the King and ilka man
May look weel to himsel.
Chronological List of Poems
Alphabetical List of Poems
297.
Election Ballad for Westerha’
Tune— “Up and waur them a’, Willie.”
THE LADDIES by the banks o’ Nith
Wad trust his Grace wi a’, Jamie;
But he’ll sair them, as he sair’d the King —
Turn tail and rin awa’, Jamie.
Chorus. — Up and waur them a’, Jamie, 5
Up and waur them a’;
The Johnstones hae the guidin o’t,
Ye turncoat Whigs, awa’!
The day he stude his country’s friend,
Or gied her faes a claw, Jamie, 10
Or frae puir man a blessin wan,
That day the Duke ne’er saw, Jamie.
Up and waur them, &c.
But wha is he, his country’s boast?
Like him there is na twa, Jamie; 15
There’s no a callent tents the kye,
But kens o’ Westerha’, Jamie.
Up and waur them, &c.
To end the wark, here’s Whistlebirk,
Lang may his whistle blaw, Jamie; 20
And Maxwell true, o’ sterling blue;
And we’ll be Johnstones a’, Jamie.
Up and waur them, &c.
Chronological List of Poems
Alphabetical List of Poems
298.
Prologue spoken at the Theatre of Dumfries
On New Year’s Day Evening, 1790.
NO song nor dance I bring from yon great city,
That queens it o’er our taste — the more’s the pity:
Tho’ by the bye, abroad why will you roam?
Good sense and taste are natives here at home:
But not for panegyric I appear, 5
I come to wish you all a good New Year!
Old Father Time deputes me here before ye,
Not for to preach, but tell his simple story:
The sage, grave Ancient cough’d, and bade me say,
“You’re one year older this important day,” 10
If wiser too — he hinted some suggestion,
But ‘twould be rude, you know, to ask the question;
And with a would-be roguish leer and wink,
Said— “Sutherland, in one word, bid them Think!”
Ye sprightly youths, quite flush with hope and spirit, 15
Who think to storm the world by dint of merit,
To you the dotard has a deal to say,
In his sly, dry, sententious, proverb way!
He bids you mind, amid your thoughtless rattle,
That the first blow is ever half the battle; 20
That tho’ some by the skirt may try to snatch him,
Yet by the foreclock is the hold to catch him;
That whether doing, suffering, or forbearing,
You may do miracles by persevering.
Last, tho’ not least in love, ye youthful fair, 25
Angelic forms, high Heaven’s peculiar care!
To you old Bald-pate smoothes his wrinkled brow,
And humbly begs you’ll mind the important-Now!
To crown your happiness he asks your leave,
And offers, bliss to give and to receive. 30
For our sincere, tho’ haply weak endeavours,
With grateful pride we own your many favours;
And howsoe’er our tongues may ill reveal it,
Believe our glowing bosoms truly feel it.
Chronological List of Poems
Alphabetical List of Poems
1790
Chronological List of Poems
Alphabetical List of Poems
299.
Sketch — New Year’s Day, 1790
To Mrs. Dunlop.
THIS day, Time winds th’ exhausted chain;
To run the twelvemonth’s length again:
I see, the old bald-pated fellow,
With ardent eyes, complexion sallow,
Adjust the unimpair’d machine, 5
To wheel the equal, dull routine.
The absent lover, minor heir,
In vain assail him with their prayer;
Deaf as my friend, he sees them press,
Nor makes the hour one moment less, 10
Will you (the Major’s with the hounds,
The happy tenants share his rounds;
Coila’s fair Rachel’s care to-day,
And blooming Keith’s engaged with Gray)
From housewife cares a minute borrow, 15
(That grandchild’s cap will do to-morrow,)
And join with me a-moralizing;
This day’s propitious to be wise in.
First, what did yesternight deliver?
“Another year has gone for ever.” 20
And what is this day’s strong suggestion?
“The passing moment’s all we rest on!”
Rest on — for what? what do we here?
Or why regard the passing year?
Will Time, amus’d with proverb’d lore, 25
Add to our date one minute more?
A few days may — a few years must —
Repose us in the silent dust.
Then, is it wise to damp our bliss?
Yes — all such reasonings are amiss! 30
The voice of Nature loudly cries,
And many a message from the skies,
That something in us never dies:
That on his frail, uncertain state,
Hang matters of eternal weight: 35
That future life in worlds unknown
Must take its hue from this alone;
Whether as heavenly glory bright,
Or dark as Misery’s woeful night.
Since then, my honour’d first of friends, 40
On this poor being all depends,
Let us th’ important now employ,
And live as those who never die.
Tho’ you, with days and honours crown’d,
Witness that filial circle round, 45
(A sight life’s sorrows to repulse,
A sight pale Envy to convulse),
Others now claim your chief regard;
Yourself, you wait your bright reward.
Chronological List of Poems
Alphabetical List of Poems
300.
Scots Prologue for Mr. Sutherland
On his Benefit-Night, at the Theatre, Dumfries.
WHAT needs this din about the town o’ Lon’on,
How this new play an’ that new sang is comin?
Why is outlandish stuff sae meikle courted?
Does nonsense mend, like brandy, when imported?
Is there nae poet, burning keen for fame, 5
Will try to gie us sangs and plays at hame?
For Comedy abroad he need to toil,
A fool and knave are plants of every soil;
Nor need he hunt as far as Rome or Greece,
To gather matter for a serious piece; 10
There’s themes enow in Caledonian story,
Would shew the Tragic Muse in a’ her glory. —
Is there no daring Bard will rise and tell
How glorious Wallace stood, how hapless fell?
Where are the Muses fled that could produce 15
A drama worthy o’ the name o’ Bruce?
How here, even here, he first unsheath’d the sword
‘Gainst mighty England and her guilty Lord;
And after mony a bloody, deathless doing,
Wrench’d his dear country from the jaws of Ruin! 20
O for a Shakespeare, or an Otway scene,
To draw the lovely, hapless Scottish Queen!
Vain all th’ omnipotence of female charms
‘Gainst headlong, ruthless, mad Rebellion’s arms:
She fell, but fell with spirit truly Roman, 25
To glut that direst foe — a vengeful woman;
A woman, (tho’ the phrase may seem uncivil,)
As able and as wicked as the Devil!
One Douglas lives in Home’s immortal page,
But Douglasses were heroes every age: 30
And tho’ your fathers, prodigal of life,
A Douglas followed to the martial strife,
Perhaps, if bowls row right, and Right succeeds,
Ye yet may follow where a Douglas leads!
As ye hae generous done, if a’ the land 35
Would take the Muses’ servants by the hand;
Not only hear, but patronize, befriend them,
And where he justly can commend, commend them;
And aiblins when they winna stand the test,
Wink hard, and say The folks hae done their best! 40
Would a’ the land do this, then I’ll be caition,
Ye’ll soon hae Poets o’ the Scottish nation
Will gar Fame blaw until her trumpet crack,
And warsle Time, an’ lay him on his back!
For us and for our Stage, should ony spier, 45
“Whase aught thae chiels maks a’ this bustle here?”
My best leg foremost, I’ll set up my brow —
We have the honour to belong to you!
We’re your ain bairns, e’en guide us as ye like,
But like good mithers shore before ye strike; 50
And gratefu’ still, I trust ye’ll ever find us,
For gen’rous patronage, and meikle kindness
We’ve got frae a’ professions, sets and ranks:
God help us! we’re but poor — ye’se get but thanks.
Chronological List of Poems
Alphabetical List of Poems
301.
Lines to a Gentleman who sent a Newspaper
Who had sent the Poet a Newspaper, and offered to continue it free of Expense.
KIND Sir, I’ve read your paper through,
And faith, to me, ‘twas really new!
How guessed ye, Sir, what maist I wanted?
This mony a day I’ve grain’d and gaunted,
To ken what French mischief was brewin; 5
Or what the drumlie Dutch were doin;
That vile doup-skelper, Emperor Joseph,
If Venus yet had got his nose off;
Or how the collieshangie works
Atween the Russians and the Turks, 10
Or if the Swede, before he halt,
Would play anither Charles the twalt;
If Denmark, any body spak o’t;
Or Poland, wha had now the tack o’t:
How cut-throat Prussian blades were hingin; 15
How libbet Italy was singin;
If Spaniard, Portuguese, or Swiss,
Were sayin’ or takin’ aught amiss;
Or how our merry lads at hame,
In Britain’s court kept up the game; 20
How royal George, the Lord leuk o’er him!
Was managing St. Stephen’s quorum;
If sleekit Chatham Will was livin,
Or glaikit Charlie got his nieve in;
How daddie Burke the plea was cookin, 25
If Warren Hasting’s neck was yeukin;
How cesses, stents, and fees were rax’d.
Or if bare a —— yet were tax’d;
The news o’ princes, dukes, and earls,
Pimps, sharpers, bawds, and opera-girls; 30
If that daft buckie, Geordie Wales,
Was threshing still at hizzies’ tails;
Or if he was grown oughtlins douser,
And no a perfect kintra cooser:
A’ this and mair I never heard of; 35
And, but for you, I might despair’d of.
So, gratefu’, back your news I send you,
And pray a’ gude things may attend you.
ELLISLAND, Monday Morning, 1790.
Chronological List of Poems
Alphabetical List of Poems
302.
Elegy on Willie Nicol’s Mare
PEG NICHOLSON was a good bay mare,
As ever trod on airn;
But now she’s floating down the Nith,
And past the mouth o’ Cairn.
Peg Nicholson was a good bay mare, 5
An’ rode thro’ thick and thin;
But now she’s floating down the Nith,
And wanting even the skin.
Peg Nicholson was a good bay mare,
And ance she bore a priest; 10
But now she’s floating down the Nith,
For Solway fish a feast.
Peg Nicholson was a good bay mare,
An’ the priest he rode her sair;
And much oppress’d and bruis’d she was, 15
As priest-rid cattle are, — &c. &c.
Chronological List of Poems
Alphabetical List of Poems
303.
The Gowden Locks of Anna (Song)
YESTREEN I had a pint o’ wine,
A place where body saw na;
Yestreen lay on this breast o’ mine
The gowden locks of Anna.
The hungry Jew in wilderness, 5
Rejoicing o’er his manna,
Was naething to my hinny bliss
Upon the lips of Anna.
Ye monarchs, take the East and West
Frae Indus to Savannah; 10
Gie me, within my straining grasp,
The melting form of Anna:
There I’ll despise Imperial charms,
An Empress or Sultana,
While dying raptures in her arms 15
I give and take wi’ Anna!
Awa, thou flaunting God of Day!
Awa, thou pale Diana!
Ilk Star, gae hide thy twinkling ray,
When I’m to meet my Anna! 20
Come, in thy raven plumage, Night,
(Sun, Moon, and Stars, withdrawn a’;)
And bring an angel-pen to write
My transports with my Anna!
POSTSCRIPT
The Kirk an’ State may join an’ tell, 25
To do sic things I maunna:
The Kirk an’ State may gae to hell,
And I’ll gae to my Anna.
She is the sunshine o’ my e’e,
To live but her I canna; 30
Had I on earth but wishes three,
The first should be my Anna.
Chronological List of Poems
Alphabetical List of Poems
304.
I Murder hate (Song)
I MURDER hate by flood or field,
Tho’ glory’s name may screen us;
In wars at home I’ll spend my blood —
Life-giving wars of Venus.
The deities that I adore 5
Are social Peace and Plenty;
I’m better pleas’d to make one more,
Than be the death of twenty.
I would not die like Socrates,
For all the fuss of Plato; 10
Nor would I with Leonidas,
Nor yet would I with Cato:
The zealots of the Church and State
Shall ne’er my mortal foes be;
But let me have bold Zimri’s fate, 15
Within the arms of Cozbi!
Chronological List of Poems
Alphabetical List of Poems
305.
Gudewife, count the lawin (Song)
GANE is the day, and mirk’s the night,
But we’ll ne’er stray for faut o’ light;
Gude ale and bratdy’s stars and moon,
And blue-red wine’s the risin’ sun.
Chorus. — Then gudewife, count the lawin, 5
The lawin, the lawin,
Then gudewife, count the lawin,
And bring a coggie mair.
There’s wealth and ease for gentlemen,
And simple folk maun fecht and fen’; 10
But here we’re a’ in ae accord,
For ilka man that’s drunk’s a lord.
Then gudewife, &c.
My coggie is a haly pool
That heals the wounds o’ care and dool; 15
And Pleasure is a wanton trout,
An ye drink it a’, ye’ll find him out.
Then gudewife, &c.
Chronological List of Poems
Alphabetical List of Poems
306.
Election Ballad at close of Contest for representing the Dumfries Burghs, 1790
At the close of the contest for representing the Dumfries Burghs, 1790.
Addressed to R. GRAHAM, Esq. of Fintry.
FINTRY, my stay in wordly strife,
Friend o’ my muse, friend o’ my life,
Are ye as idle’s I am?
Come then, wi’ uncouth kintra fleg,
O’er Pegasus I’ll fling my leg, 5
And ye shall see me try him.
But where shall I go rin a ride,
That I may splatter nane beside?
I wad na be uncivil:
In manhood’s various paths and ways 10
There’s aye some doytin’ body strays,
And I ride like the devil.
Thus I break aff wi’ a’ my birr,
And down yon dark, deep alley spur,
Where Theologics daunder: 15
Alas! curst wi’ eternal fogs,
And damn’d in everlasting bogs,
As sure’s the creed I’ll blunder!
I’ll stain a band, or jaup a gown,
Or rin my reckless, guilty crown
20
Against the haly door:
Sair do I rue my luckless fate,
When, as the Muse an’ Deil wad hae’t,
I rade that road before.
Suppose I take a spurt, and mix 25
Amang the wilds o’ Politics —
Electors and elected,
Where dogs at Court (sad sons of bitches!)
Septennially a madness touches,
Till all the land’s infected. 30
All hail! Drumlanrig’s haughty Grace,
Discarded remnant of a race
Once godlike-great in story;
Thy forbears’ virtues all contrasted,
The very name of Douglas blasted, 35
Thine that inverted glory!
Hate, envy, oft the Douglas bore,
But thou hast superadded more,
And sunk them in contempt;
Follies and crimes have stain’d the name, 40
But, Queensberry, thine the virgin claim,
From aught that’s good exempt!
I’ll sing the zeal Drumlanrig bears,
Who left the all-important cares
Of princes, and their darlings: 45
And, bent on winning borough touns,
Came shaking hands wi’ wabster-loons,
And kissing barefit carlins.
Combustion thro’ our boroughs rode,
Whistling his roaring pack abroad 50
Of mad unmuzzled lions;
As Queensberry blue and buff unfurl’d,
And Westerha’ and Hopetoun hurled
To every Whig defiance.
But cautious Queensberry left the war, 55
Th’ unmanner’d dust might soil his star,
Besides, he hated bleeding:
But left behind him heroes bright,
Heroes in C&æsarean fight,
Or Ciceronian pleading. 60
O for a throat like huge Mons-Meg,
To muster o’er each ardent Whig
Beneath Drumlanrig’s banners;
Heroes and heroines commix,
All in the field of politics, 65
To win immortal honours.
M’Murdo and his lovely spouse,
(Th’ enamour’d laurels kiss her brows!)
Led on the Loves and Graces:
She won each gaping burgess’ heart, 70
While he, sub rosa, played his part
Amang their wives and lasses.
Craigdarroch led a light-arm’d core,
Tropes, metaphors, and figures pour,
Like Hecla streaming thunder: 75
Glenriddel, skill’d in rusty coins,
Blew up each Tory’s dark designs,
And bared the treason under.
In either wing two champions fought;
Redoubted Staig, who set at nought 80
The wildest savage Tory;
And Welsh who ne’er yet flinch’d his ground,
High-wav’d his magnum-bonum round
With Cyclopeian fury.
Miller brought up th’ artillery ranks, 85
The many-pounders of the Banks,
Resistless desolation!
While Maxwelton, that baron bold,
‘Mid Lawson’s port entrench’d his hold,
And threaten’d worse damnation. 90
To these what Tory hosts oppos’d
With these what Tory warriors clos’d
Surpasses my descriving;
Squadrons, extended long and large,
With furious speed rush to the charge, 95
Like furious devils driving.
What verse can sing, what prose narrate,
The butcher deeds of bloody Fate,
Amid this mighty tulyie!
Grim Horror girn’d, pale Terror roar’d, 100
As Murder at his thrapple shor’d,
And Hell mix’d in the brulyie.
As Highland craigs by thunder cleft,
When lightnings fire the stormy lift,
Hurl down with crashing rattle; 105
As flames among a hundred woods,
As headlong foam from a hundred floods,
Such is the rage of Battle.
The stubborn Tories dare to die;
As soon the rooted oaks would fly 110
Before th’ approaching fellers:
The Whigs come on like Ocean’s roar,
When all his wintry billows pour
Against the Buchan Bullers.
Lo, from the shades of Death’s deep night, 115
Departed Whigs enjoy the fight,
And think on former daring:
The muffled murtherer of Charles
The Magna Charter flag unfurls,
All deadly gules its bearing. 120
Nor wanting ghosts of Tory fame;
Bold Scrimgeour follows gallant Graham;
Auld Covenanters shiver —
Forgive! forgive! much-wrong’d Montrose!
Now Death and Hell engulph thy foes, 125
Thou liv’st on high for ever.
Still o’er the field the combat burns,
The Tories, Whigs, give way by turns;
But Fate the word has spoken:
For woman’s wit and strength o’man, 130
Alas! can do but what they can;
The Tory ranks are broken.
O that my een were flowing burns!
My voice, a lioness that mourns
Her darling cubs’ undoing!
135
That I might greet, that I might cry,
While Tories fall, while Tories fly,
And furious Whigs pursuing!
What Whig but melts for good Sir James,
Dear to his country, by the names, 140
Friend, Patron, Benefactor!
Not Pulteney’s wealth can Pulteney save;
And Hopetoun falls, the generous, brave;
And Stewart, bold as Hector.
Thou, Pitt, shalt rue this overthrow, 145
And Thurlow growl a curse of woe,
And Melville melt in wailing:
Now Fox and Sheridan rejoice,
And Burke shall sing, “O Prince, arise!
Thy power is all-prevailing!” 150
For your poor friend, the Bard, afar
He only hears and sees the war,
A cool spectator purely!
So, when the storm the forest rends,
The robin in the hedge descends, 155
And sober chirps securely.
Now, for my friends’ and brethren’s sakes,
And for my dear-lov’d Land o’ Cakes,
I pray with holy fire:
Lord, send a rough-shod troop o’ Hell 160
O’er a’ wad Scotland buy or sell,
To grind them in the mire!
Chronological List of Poems
Alphabetical List of Poems
307.
Elegy on Captain Matthew Henderson
A Gentleman who held the Patent for his Honours immediately from Almighty God.
“Should the poor be flattered?” — Shakespeare.
O DEATH! thou tyrant fell and bloody!
The meikle devil wi’ a woodie
Haurl thee hame to his black smiddie,
O’er hurcheon hides,
And like stock-fish come o’er his studdie 5
Wi’ thy auld sides!
He’s gane, he’s gane! he’s frae us torn,
The ae best fellow e’er was born!
Thee, Matthew, Nature’s sel’ shall mourn,
By wood and wild, 10
Where haply, Pity strays forlorn,
Frae man exil’d.
Ye hills, near neighbours o’ the starns,
That proudly cock your cresting cairns!
Ye cliffs, the haunts of sailing earns, 15
Where Echo slumbers!
Come join, ye Nature’s sturdiest bairns,
My wailing numbers!
Mourn, ilka grove the cushat kens!
Ye haz’ly shaws and briery dens! 20
Ye burnies, wimplin’ down your glens,
Wi’ toddlin din,
Or foaming, strang, wi’ hasty stens,
Frae lin to lin.
Mourn, little harebells o’er the lea; 25
Ye stately foxgloves, fair to see;
Ye woodbines hanging bonilie,
In scented bow’rs;
Ye roses on your thorny tree,
The first o’ flow’rs. 30
At dawn, when ev’ry grassy blade
Droops with a diamond at his head,
At ev’n, when beans their fragrance shed,
I’ th’ rustling gale,
Ye maukins, whiddin thro’ the glade, 35
Come join my wail.
Mourn, ye wee songsters o’ the wood;
Ye grouse that crap the heather bud;
Ye curlews, calling thro’ a clud;
Ye whistling plover; 40
And mourn, we whirring paitrick brood;
He’s gane for ever!
Mourn, sooty coots, and speckled teals;
Ye fisher herons, watching eels;
Ye duck and drake, wi’ airy wheels 45
Circling the lake;
Ye bitterns, till the quagmire reels,
Rair for his sake.
Mourn, clam’ring craiks at close o’ day,
‘Mang fields o’ flow’ring clover gay; 50
And when ye wing your annual way
Frae our claud shore,
Tell thae far warlds wha lies in clay,
Wham we deplore.
Ye houlets, frae your ivy bow’r 55
In some auld tree, or eldritch tow’r,
What time the moon, wi’ silent glow’r,
Sets up her horn,
Wail thro’ the dreary midnight hour,
Till waukrife morn! 60
O rivers, forests, hills, and plains!
Oft have ye heard my canty strains;
But now, what else for me remains
But tales of woe;
And frae my een the drapping rains 65
Maun ever flow.
Mourn, Spring, thou darling of the year!
Ilk cowslip cup shall kep a tear:
Thou, Simmer, while each corny spear
Shoots up its head, 70
Thy gay, green, flow’ry tresses shear,
For him that’s dead!
Thou, Autumn, wi’ thy yellow hair,
In grief thy sallow mantle tear!
Thou, Winter, hurling thro’ the air 75
The roaring blast,
Wide o’er the naked world declare
The worth we’ve lost!
Mourn him, thou Sun, great source of light!
Mourn, Empress of the silent night! 80
And you, ye twinkling starnies bright,
My Matthew mourn!
For through your orbs he’s ta’en his flight,
Ne’er to return.
O Henderson! the man! the brother! 85
And art thou gone, and gone for ever!
And hast thou crost that unknown river,
Life’s dreary bound!
Like thee, where shall I find another,
The world around! 90
Go to your sculptur’d tombs, ye Great,
In a’ the tinsel trash o’ state!
But by thy honest turf I’ll wait,
Thou man of worth!
And weep the ae best fellow’s fate 95
E’er lay in earth.
Chronological List of Poems
Alphabetical List of Poems
308.
The Epitaph on Captain Matthew Henderson
STOP, passenger! my story’s brief,
And truth I shall relate, man;
I tell nae common tale o’ grief,
For Matthew was a great man.
If thou uncommon merit hast, 5
Yet spurn’d at Fortune’s door, man;
A look of pity hither cast,
For Matthew was a poor man.
If thou a noble sodger art,
That passest by this grave, man; 10
There moulders here a gallant heart,
For Matthew was a brave man.
If thou on men, their works and ways,
Canst throw uncommon light, man;
Here lies wha weel had won thy praise, 15
For Matthew was a bright man.
If thou, at Friendship’s sacred ca’,
Wad life itself resign, man:
Thy sympathetic tear maun fa’,
For Matthew was a kind man. 20
If thou art staunch, without a stain,
Like the unchanging blue, man;
This was a kinsman o’ thy ain,
For Matthew was a true man.
If thou hast wit, and fun, and fire, 25
And ne’er guid wine did fear, man;
This was thy billie, dam, and sire,
For Matthew was a queer man.
If ony whiggish, whingin’ sot,
To blame poor Matthew dare, man; 30
May dool and sorrow be his lot,
For Matthew was a rare man.
But now, his radiant course is run,
For Matthew’s was a bright one!
His soul was like the glorious sun, 35
A matchless, Heavenly light, man.
Chronological List of Poems
Alphabetical List of Poems
309.
Verses on Captain Grose
Written on an Envelope, enclosing a Letter to Him.
KEN ye aught o’ Captain Grose? — Igo, and ago,
If he’s amang his friends or foes? — Iram, coram, dago.
Is he to Abra’m’s bosom gane? — Igo, and ago,
Or haudin Sarah by the wame? — Iram, coram dago.
Is he south or is he north? — Igo, and ago, 5
Or drowned in the river Forth? — Iram, coram dago.
Is he slain by Hielan’ bodies? — Igo, and ago,
And eaten like a wether haggis? — Iram, coram, dago.
Where’er he be, the Lord be near him! — Igo, and ago,
As for the deil, he daur na steer him. — Iram, coram, dago. 10
But please transmit th’ enclosed letter, — Igo, and ago,
Which will oblige your humble debtor.
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