The Canongate Burns (51 page)
Read The Canongate Burns Online
Authors: Robert Burns
over the Chimney-Piece, in the Parlour of the Inn at Kenmore, Taymouth
First printed in
The Edinburgh Evening Courant
, 6th September 1787.
Admiring Nature in her wildest grace,
These northern scenes with weary feet I trace;
O'er many a winding dale and painful steep,
Th' abodes of coveyed grouse and timid sheep,
5
My savage journey, curious, I pursue,
Till fam'd Breadalbane opens to my view. â
The meeting cliffs each deep-sunk glen divides,
The woods, wild-scattered, clothe their ample sides;
Th' outstretching lake, embosomed âmong the hills,
10
The eye with wonder and amazement fills;
The Tay, meandering sweet in infant pride,
The palace, rising on his verdant side;
The lawns, wood-fring'd in Nature's native taste;
The hillocks, dropt in Nature's careless haste,
15
The arches, striding o'er the new-born stream;
The village, glittering in the noontide beam â
Poetic ardors in my bosom swell,
Lone wand'ring by the hermit's mossy cell:
The sweeping theatre of hanging woods;
20
The incessant roar of headlong tumbling floods â
Here Poesy might wake her heaven-taught lyre,
And look through Nature with creative fire;
Here, to the wrongs of Fate half reconcil'd,
Misfortune's lightened steps might wander wild;
25
And Disappointment, in these lonely bounds,
Find balm to soothe her bitter rankling wounds:
Here heart-struck Grief might heavenward stretch her scan,
And injur'd Worth forget and pardon man.Â
When published in the
Edinburgh Evening Courant
these verses were described as the work of the âcelebrated Ayrshire bard' and found by an unknown person, who gives only their initials, âO.B.', while on visit to Taymouth, where the verses were found on a Hermitage wall. Most editors guess that Burns himself sent the verses to the newspaper. A further variant edition appears in
The Bee
magazine on 9th May 1792, under the title
Verses Written on a Window in
Breadalbane
, by Mr Robert Burns. There are several textual changes between the two versions. The copy in
The Bee
is probably a textual improvement made by Burns taken from a manuscript sent to a friend as there is no evidence that Burns visited Breadalbane on a second tour. If this is the case, Burns appears to have reverted to the earlier version when including the poem in his 1793 Edinburgh edition.
by the Fall of Fyers, near Loch Ness
First printed in the Edinburgh edition, 1793.
Among the heathy hills and ragged woods
The roaring Fyers pours his mossy floods;
Till full he dashes on the rocky mounds,
Where, thro' a shapeless breach, his stream resounds,
5
As high in air the bursting torrents flow,
As deep recoiling surges foam below,
Prone down the rock the whitening sheet descends,
And viewless Echo's ear, astonished, rends.Â
Dim-seen through rising mists and ceaseless showers,
10
The hoary cavern, wide-surrounding, lours.
Still thro' the gap the struggling river toils,
And still, below, the horrid caldron boils â
This was composed around 5th September 1787, when Burns travelled from Loch Ness to Foyers. In form and metre, this verse follows on from the pastoral sketch of the previous work, on the scenic view from Breadalbane.
Born in Peculiar Circumstances of Family-Distress
First printed in the Edinburgh edition, 1793.Â
Sweet flow'ret, pledge o' meikle love,
much
       And ward o' mony a prayer,
many
What heart o' stane wad thou na move,
stone would, not
       Sae helpless, sweet, and fair.
so
Â
5
November hirples o'er the lea,
limps
       Chill, on thy lovely form;
And gane, alas! the shelt'ring tree,
gone
       Should shield thee frae the storm
from
May He who gives the rain to pour,
10
       And wings the blast to blaw,
blow
Protect thee frae the driving show'r,
from
       The bitter frost and snaw!
snow
May He, the friend of Woe and Want,
       Who heals life's various stounds,
pangs/pains
15
Protect and guard the mother plant,
       And heal her cruel wounds.
But late she flourished, rooted fast,
       Fair on the summer morn:
Now, feebly bends she, in the blast,
20
       Unsheltered and forlorn.
Blest be thy bloom, thou lovely gem,
       Unscath'd by ruffian hand!
And from thee many a parent stem
       Arise to deck our land.Â
The head-note to this poem, in the Glenriddell Manuscripts, reads: âExtempore nearly â On the Birth of Monsr. Henri, posthumous child to a Monsr. Henri, a Gentleman of family and fortune from Switzerland; who died after three days illness, leaving his lady, a sister of Sir Thos. Wallace, in her sixth month of this her first child. â The lady and her Family were particular friends of the Author. â The child was born in November 1790'. James Henri married Mrs Dunlop's daughter Susan, but died 22nd June, 1790. Burns wrote to Mrs Dunlop, on hearing of the birth, âI literally,
jumped for joy
⦠out skipt I among the broomy banks of Nith to muse over my joy by retail. â To keep within the bounds of prose was impossible. Mrs Little's is a more elegant, but not a more sincere Compliment to the sweet little fellow, than I extempore almost poured out to him in the following verses' (Letter 427).
N.B. The Whistle: A Ballad
was the last work printed in the 1793 Edinburgh edition. It was first published in Johnson's fourth volume of the
Scots Musical Museum
, August 1792 and is therefore printed in the next section, songs published by Burns during his lifetime.
Tune: The Last Time I came O'er the Moor
First printed in the S.M.M., Vol. 1, 22nd May, 1787.
Young Peggy blooms our boniest lass,
         Her blush is like the morning,
The rosy dawn, the springing grass,
         With early gems adorning:
5
Her eyes outshine the radiant beams
         That gild the passing shower,
And glitter o'er the crystal streams,
         And cheer each fresh'ning flower.Â
Her lips, more than the cherries bright,
10
         A richer dye has grac'd them,
They charm th' admiring gazer's sight
         And sweetly tempt to taste them:
Her smile is as the ev'ning mild,
         When feather'd pairs are courting,
15
And little lambkins wanton wild,
         In playful bands disporting.Â
Were Fortune lovely Peggy's foe,
         Such sweetness would relent her,
As blooming Spring unbends the brow
20
         Of surly, savage Winter.
Detraction's eye no aim can gain
         Her winning pow'rs to lessen;
And fretful Envy grins in vain,
         The poison'd tooth to fasten.Â
25
Ye Pow'rs of Honour, Love, and Truth,
         From ev'ry ill defend her;
Inspire the highly-favour'd Youth
         The destinies intend her;
Still fan the sweet connubial flame
30
         Responsive in each bosom;
And bless the dear parental name
         With many a filial blossom.
Young Peggy
was Margaret Kennedy (1766â95), daughter of Robert Kennedy of Daljarrock, where he worked as the factor to the Earl of Cassilis. The poet met Margaret because her father was Gavin Hamilton's brother-in-law. Burns sent a copy of the song in a letter to Miss Kennedy in the Autumn of 1785:
Permit me to present you with the enclosed SONG, as a small tho' grateful tribute for the honour of your acquaintance. I have, in these verses, attempted some faint sketches of your PORTRAIT in the unimbellished, simple manner of descriptive TRUTH. Flattery I leave to your LOVERS; whose exaggerating Fancies may make them imagine you still nearer, if possible, to Perfection than you really are.
⦠even the sight of a fine flower, or the company of a fine Woman (by far the finest part of God's works below), have sensations for the poetic heart that the HERD of Man are strangers toâ¦. I am, as in many other things, indebted to Mr Hamilton's kindness in introducing me to you (Letter 20).
The aspirations of the last stanza are tragically ironic, given what happened to Margaret Kennedy nine years later, when, in 1794, she had an affair with a Captain Andrew McDoul, whose child she bore, resulting in a paternity row in which McDoul denied being the child's father. Young Peggy died before the
£
3000 award was made for the child's maintenance.
Johnson appears to have selected his own tune,
Loch Eroch Side,
when he printed the song. The poet was advised not to print the song in his Edinburgh edition (Letters 90 and 88) and decided to send it to the S.M.M.
First printed in the S.M.M., Vol. 1, 22nd May, 1787.
âO whar did ye get that hauver-meal bannock?'
where, oatmeal
       O silly blind body, O dinna ye see;
do you not
I gat it frae a young, brisk Sodger Laddie,
got, from, soldier
       Between Saint Johnston and bonie Dundee.
Perth
5
O gin I saw the laddie that gae me't!
if, gave
       Aft has he doudl'd me up on his knee;
often, dandled
May Heaven protect my bonie Scots laddie,
       And send him hame to his babie and me.
home
âMy blessin's upon thy sweet, wee lippie!
lips
10
       My blessins upon thy bonie e'e brie!
eyebrow
Thy smiles are sae like my blythe Sodger
       Thou's ay the dearer and dearer to me!
But I'll big a bow'r on yon bonie banks,
build
       Whare Tay rins wimplin by sae clear;
where, runs, so
15
And I'll cleed thee in the tartan sae fine,
clothe, so
       And mak thee a man like thy daddie dear.'
make
Â
This is an updated version of a traditional song. The first verse is improved, the second is from Burns. The description âhauver-meal bannock' is a euphemistic reference to being pregnant and showing it.
Tune: To the Weaver's Gin ye Go
First printed in the S.M.M., Vol. 2, 14th February, 1788.
My heart was ance as blythe and free,
       As simmer days were lang,
summer, long
But a bonie, westlin weaver lad
from the West
       Had gart me change my sang.
made, song
Chorus
5
To the weaver's gin ye go, fair maids,
if
To the weaver's gin ye go,
if
I rede you right, gang ne'er at night,
warn, go
To the weaver's gin ye go.
if
My mither sent me to the town
mother
10
       To warp a plaiden wab;
But the weary, weary warpin o't
       Has gart me sigh and sab.
made, sob
To the weaver's &c.
A bonie, westlin weaver lad
       Sat working at his loom;
15
He took my heart, as wi' a net
       In every knot and thrum.
              To the weaver's &c.
I sat beside my warpin-wheel,
       And ay I ca'd it roun';
always, drove
And every shot and every knock,
20
       My heart it gae a stoun.
gave, thump
              To the weaver's &c.
The moon was sinking in the west
       Wi' visage pale and wan,
As my bonie, westlin weaver lad
       Convoy'd me thro' the glen.
              To the weaver's &c.
25
But what was said, or what was done,
       Shame fa' me gin I tell;
fall on, if
But Oh! I fear the kintra soon
countryside
       Will ken as weel's mysel!
know, as well as
              To the weaver's &c.
This is based on an old song but the lyrics, bar the chorus, are from Burns. The poet comments:
The chorus of this song is old, the rest of it is mine. Here, once for all, let me apologise for many silly compositions of mine in this work. Many beautiful airs wanted words; in the hurry of other avocations, if I could string a parcel of rhymes together anything near tolerable, I was fain to let them pass. He must be an excellent poet indeed, whose every performance is excellent.
This self-deprecatory remark should not be taken seriously. Burns had a phenomenal capacity to evolve lyrics from traditional music. Having brought him wool to weave, the girl finds herself caught not only in the rhythm of the shuttle but of the penis. The garment is made and she also finds herself pregnant.
