The Canongate Burns (103 page)

Auld chuckie REEKIE 's
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sair distrest,
old, mother-hen, sore

Down droops her ance weel-burnish'd crest,
once, well-

Nae joy her bonie buskit nest
no, trimmed

        Can yield ava;
at all

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Her darling bird that she loes best,
loves

        Willie's awa. —
away
 

O Willie was a witty wight,

And had o' things an unco sleight;
uncommon skill

Auld Reekie ay he keepit tight,
old, kept in order

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        And trig an' braw:
trim, handsome

But now they'll busk her like a fright,
dress, freak

        Willie's awa. — 

The stiffest o' them a' he bow'd,

The bauldest o' them a' he cow'd,
boldest

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They durst nae mair than he allow'd,
did no more

        That was a law:

We've lost a birkie weel worth gowd,
blade, well, gold

        Willie's awa. —  

Now gawkies, tawpies, gowks, and fools,
boobies, silly girls, dolts

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Frae colleges and boarding-schools,
from

May sprout like simmer puddock-stools
summer, toadstools

        In glen or shaw;
wood

He wha could brush them down to mools
who, dust

        Willie's awa. — 

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The brethren o' the Commerce-Chaumer
chamber

May mourn their loss wi' doolfu' clamour;
doleful

He was a dictionar and grammar

        Amang them a':

I fear they'll now mak mony a stammer,
make many

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        Willie's awa. — 

Nae mair we see his levee door
no more

Philosophers and Poets pour,

And toothy Critics by the score

        In bloody raw;
row

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The Adjutant of a' the core
band

        Willie's awa. — 

Now worthy Greg'ry's
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Latin face,

Tytler's and Greenfield's
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modest grace,

McKenzie, Stuart,
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such a brace

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        As Rome ne'er saw;

They a' maun meet some ither place,
must, other

        Willie's awa. — 

Poor BURNS — even Scotch Drink canna quicken,
cannot

He cheeps like some bewilder'd chicken,

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Scar'd frae its minnie and the cleckin
from, mother, brood

        By hoodie-craw:
hooded carrion crow

Grief's gien his heart an unco kickin,
given, uncommon beating

        Willie's awa. — 

Now ev'ry sour-mou'd, girnin blellum,
bad-mouthed, snarling nag

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And Calvin's folk are fit to fell him;
kill

Ilk self-conceited, critic-skellum
each, -scullion

        His quill may draw;

He wha could brawlie ward their bellum
who, finely repel, attack

        Willie's awa. — 

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Up wimpling, stately Tweed I've sped,
meandering

And Eden scenes on chrystal Jed,

And Ettrick banks now roaring red

        While tempests blaw;

But every joy and pleasure's fled,

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        Willie's awa. — 

May I be Slander's common speech;

A text for Infamy to preach;

And lastly, streekit out to bleach
stretched

        In winter snaw
snow

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When I forget thee, WILLIE CREECH,

        Tho' far awa! — 

May never wicked Fortune touzle him,
ruffle

May never wicked men bamboozle him,

Until a pow as auld's Methusalem
head of hair, old as

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        He canty claw:
cheery scratch

Then to the blessed, new Jerusalem

        Fleet-wing awa. —

I

SYMON Gray,

You're dull to-day.

II

Dullness, with redoubled sway,

Has seized the wits of Symon Gray.

III

Dear Cimon Gray,

                                         The other day,

        When you sent me some rhyme,

I could not then just ascertain

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        Its worth, for want of time.

But now today, good Mr. Gray,

        I've read it o'er and o'er,

Tried all my skill, but find I'm still

        Just where I was before.

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We auld wives' minions gie our opinions,

        Solicited or no;

Then of its fauts my honest thoughts

        I'll give — and here they go.

Such damn'd bombast no time that's past

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        Will show, or time to come,

So, Cimon dear, your song I'll tear,

        And with it wipe my [bum].

Your billet, Sir, I grant receipt;
letter

Wi' you I'll canter ony gate;
any road

Tho' 'twere a trip to yon blue warl
world

Where Birkies march on burning marl.
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fellows, stone

Then, Sir, God willing, I'll attend ye;

And to His goodness I commend ye. —

                                         R. Burns. 

Whoe'er he be that sojourns here,

        I pity much his case,

Unless he come to wait upon

        The Lord their God, His Grace.

There 's naething here but Highland pride,
nothing

        And Highland scab and hunger;

If Providence has sent me here,

        'Twas surely in an anger.

The lamp of day, with ill-presaging glare,

       Dim, cloudy, sank beneath the western wave:

Th' inconstant blast howl'd thro' the darkening air,

       And hollow whistled in the rocky cave.

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Lone as I wander'd by each cliff and dell,

       Once
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the lov'd haunts of Scotia's royal train;

Or mus'd where limpid streams, once hallow'd, well;
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       Or mouldering ruins mark the sacred Fane.
3

Th' increasing blast roared round the beetling rocks;

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       The clouds, swift-wing'd, flew o'er the starry sky;

The groaning trees, untimely, shed their locks,

       And shooting meteors caught the startled eye. —

The paly moon rose in the livid east,

       And 'mong the cliffs disclos'd a stately Form,

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In weeds of woe, that frantic beat her breast,

       And mix'd her wailings with the raving storm. —

Wild to my heart the filial pulses glow;

       'Twas CALEDONIA'S trophy'd shield I view'd;

Her form majestic droop'd in pensive woe,

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       The lightning of her eye in tears imbu'd. —

Revers'd that spear, redoubtable in war,

       Reclin'd that banner, erst in fields unfurl'd,

That like a deathful meteor gleam'd afar,

       And brav'd the mighty monarchs of the world. —

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‘My patriot-Son fills an untimely grave!'

       With accent wild and lifted arms she cry'd;

‘Low lies the hand that oft was stretch'd to save,

       Low lies the heart that swell'd with honor's pride. —

‘A weeping Country joins a Widow's tear,

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       The helpless Poor mix with the Orphan's cry;

The drooping Arts surround their Patron's bier,

       And grateful Science heaves the heart-felt sigh. —

‘I saw my Sons resume their ancient fire;

       I saw fair Freedom's blossoms richly blow:

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But ah, how hope is born but to expire!

       Relentless Fate has laid their Guardian low. —

‘My Patriot falls — but shall he lie unsung,

       While empty Greatness saves a worthless name?

No: every Muse shall join her tuneful tongue,

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       And future ages hear his growing fame. —

‘And I will join a Mother's tender cares,

       Thro' future times to make his virtues last,

That distant years may boast of other BLAIRS —'

       She said, and vanish'd with the sweeping blast. 

Madam

Nae Heathen Name shall I prefix,

        Frae Pindus or Parnassus;

AULD REEKIE dings them a' to sticks
Edinburgh, knocks down

        For rhyme-inspiring Lasses. —

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Jove's tunefu' Dochters three times three
daughters

        Made Homer deep their debtor;

But gien the body half an e'e,
given, eye

        NINE FERRIERS wad done better. —
would [have]

Last day my mind was in a bog,

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        Down George's Street I stoited;
staggered

A creeping, cauld, PROSAIC fog
cold

        My very senses doited. —
dulled

Do what I dought to set her free,
dared

        My Muse lay in the mire;
soul

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Ye turned a neuk — I saw your e'e —
corner

She took the wing like fire. — 

The mournfu' Sang I here enclose,
song

        In GRATITUDE I send you;

And pray in rhyme, sincere as prose,

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        A' GUDE THINGS MAY ATTEND
good

           YOU.