The Canongate Burns (109 page)

                     HE

The cares o' Love are sweeter far

    Than onie other pleasure;
any

And if sae dear its sorrows are
so

    Enjoyment, what a treasure!

                     SHE

I fear to try, I dare na try
not

    A passion sae ensnaring;
so

For light's her heart and blythe's her song

    That for nae man is caring.
no

Louis, what reck I by thee,

       Or Geordie on his ocean:

Dyvor, beggar louns to me,

       I reign in Jeanie's bosom.

Let her crown my love her law,

       And in her breast enthrone me:

Kings and nations, swith awa!

       Reif randies, I disown ye.

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,

5
Adjust the unimpair'd machine

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,

10
Nor makes the hour one moment less.

Will you (the Major 's with the hounds,

The happy tenants share his rounds;

Coila's fair Rachel's care to day,
1

And blooming Keith's engaged with
Gray
;)

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From housewife cares a minute borrow —

— 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?

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‘Another year has gone for ever.'

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?

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Will Time, amus'd with proverb'd lore,

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?

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Yes — all such reasonings are amiss!

The voice of Nature loudly cries,

And many a message from the skies,

That something in us never dies:

That on this frail, uncertain state,

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Hang matters of eternal weight:

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 —

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Since then, my honor'd, first of friends,

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,

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Witness that filial circle round,

I gaed up to Dunse,
went

       To warp a wab o' plaiden;
weave, web, plaid

At his daddie's yett,
gate

       Wha met me but Robin.
who

Chorus

5
Robin shure in hairst,
sheared, harvest

       I shure wi' him;

Fient a heuk had I,
not a sickle

       Yet I stack by him.
stuck

Was na Robin bauld,
not, bold

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       Tho' I was a cottar,

Play'd me sic a trick
such

       An' me the Eller's dochter!
Elder's daughter

              Robin shure &c.

Robin promis'd me

       A' my winter vittle;
food

15Fient haet he had but three
not a thing

       Goos feathers and a whittle.
Quills, knife

               Robin shure &c.

There was on a time, but old Time was then young,

        That brave Caledonia, the chief of her line,

From some of your northern deities sprung,

        (Who knows not that brave Caledonia's divine)

5
From Tweed to the Orcades was her domain,
Orkney

        To hunt, or to pasture, or do what she would;

Her heav'nly relations there fixè d her reign,

        And pledged her their godheads to warrant it good. —

A lambkin in peace, but a lion in war,

10
        The pride of her kindred the Heroine grew;

Her grandsire, old Odin, triumphantly swore,

        ‘Whoe'er shall provoke thee, th' encounter shall rue!'

With tillage or pasture at times she would sport,

        To feed her fair flocks by her green-rustling corn;

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But chiefly the woods were her fav'rite resort,

        Her darling amusement the hounds and the horn. —

Long quiet she reign'd, till thitherward steers

        A flight of bold eagles from Adria's strand;

Repeated, successive, for many long years,

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        They darken'd the air and they plunder'd the land.

Their pounces were murder, and horror their cry,

        They'd ravag'd and ruin'd a world beside;

She took to her hills and her arrows let fly,

        The daring invaders they fled or they di'd. —

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The Cameleon Savage disturb'd her repose

        With tumult, disquiet, rebellion, and strife;

Provok'd beyond bearing, at last she arose,

        And robbed him at once of his hopes and his life.

The Anglian Lion, the terror of France,

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        Oft prowling ensanguin'd the Tweed's silver flood;

But taught by the bright Caledonian lance,

        He learned to fear in his own native wood. —

The fell Harpy-Raven took wing from the North,

        The scourge of the seas and the dread of the shore;

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The wild Scandinavian boar issued forth,

        To wanton in carnage and wallow in gore:

O'er countries and kingdoms their fury prevail'd,

        No arts could appease them, no arms could repel;

But brave Caledonia in vain they assail'd,

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        As Largs well can witness, and Loncartie tell. —

Thus bold, independent, unconquer'd and free,

        Her bright course of glory for ever shall run;

For brave Caledonia immortal must be,

        I'll prove it from Euclid as clear as the sun:

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Rectangle-triangle, the figure we'll chuse,

        The upright is Chance, and old Time is the Base;

But brave Caledonia's the Hypothenuse,

        Then, Ergo, she'll match them, and match them always. —