he could wind verse round any topic, and conduct the duties and the courtesies of life in song. His account of having 'grown sae cursed douce,' and scorching himself at the fire

'Perusing Bunyan, Brown, and Boston,'

is archly introduced. The persons to whom a part of the letter alludes were of Glenconner's household or his neighbours. The 'manly tar' was probably Richard Brown."-CUNNINGHAM.]

ON THE

Birth of a Posthumous Child.*

SWEET flow'ret, pledge o' meikle love,

And ward o' mony a pray'r,
What heart o' stane wad thou na move,
Sae helpless, sweet, and fair!
November hirples o'er the lea,
Chill, on thy lovely form;
And gane, alas! the shelt'ring tree

Should shield thee frae the storm.
May He who gives the rain to pour,

And wings the blast to blaw,
Protect thee frae the driving show'r,
The bitter frost and snaw!

May He, the friend of woe and want,
Who heals life's various stounds,
Protect and guard the mother-plant,
And heal her cruel wounds!

But late she flourish'd, rooted fast,
Fair on the summer-morn:
Now feebly bends she in the blast,
Unshelter'd 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!

[The mother was a daughter of the Poet's friend, Mrs. Dunlop. She and the little flow'ret are often alluded to in the Poet's letters to that lady. Miss Susan Dunlop had married a French gentleman of good birth and fortune, of the name of Henri. They lived at Loudoun Castle in Ayrshire, where, June 22, 1790, M. Henri was cut off by a cold, caught in consequence of exposure to wet. His son and heir, born in the subsequent November, was the subject of the above fine verses. In the autumn of 1792, Mrs. Henri, accompanied by her infant, went to the south of France. In a subsequent letter to Mrs. Dunlop, Burns deplores the dangerous and distressing situation of the young mother, exposed to the tumults of the Revolution; and he has soon after occasion to condole with his venerable friend on the death of her daughter in a foreign land-" that land," says the Poet, convulsed with every horror that can harrow the human feelings." When this sad event took place, the orphan child fell under the immediate care of his paternal grandfather, who, however, was soon obliged to take refuge in Switzerland, leaving the infant behind him. Years passed -he and the Scotch friends of the child heard nothing of it, and concluded that it was lost. At length, when the elder Henri was enabled to return to his ancestral domains, he had the unspeakable satisfaction of finding that his grandson and heir was alive and well, having never been removed from the place. The child had been protected and reared with the greatest care by a worthy female, Mademoiselle Susette, formerly a domestic of the family. This excellent

"These stanzas," says Burns in his memoranda, "were composed on the birth of a posthumous child, born in peculiar circumstances of family distress." A father was carried to the grave a few months before his only son was born; almost a type of what happened at no distant date in the Poet's own household. Not only are the chief circumstances of the case applicable, but the very words which he used in expressing the woe of another give an image of what was suffered in Burns'-street, in July, 1796.

"The sheltering tree was removed in both cases, and tender flowerets exposed to the storm. I shall never forget the time when Burns's boys appeared in the streets of Dumfries, in mourning for their father's death. All eyes were turned in sympathy on them-their weepers, as the bands of white cambric on their coat-cuffs were called, and their forlorn and wondering looks, live in more memories than mine."

CUNNINGHAM.]

person had even contrived, through all the levelling violences of the intervening period, to preserve in her young charge the feelings appropriate to his rank. Though absolutely indebted to her industry for his bread, she had caused him always to be seated by himself at table, and regularly waited on, so that the otherwise plebeian circumstances in which he lived did not greatly affect him. The subject of Burns's stanzas is now proprietor of the family estates; and it is agreeable to add that Mademoiselle Susette still (1838) lives in his paternal mansion, in the enjoyment of that grateful respect to which her fidelity and discretion so eminently entitle her. Such is the somewhat extraordinary history of "Sweet flow'ret, pledge o' meikle love,

this

And ward o' mony a prayer."-CHAMBERS.] [The young lady, who was the subject of these beautiful lines, was then only twelve years old; she afterwards became the wife of Mr. Henderson, a writer, or legal practitioner at Jedburgh. Burns also composed his song entitled, A Rosebud by my early walk,' in honour of the same beautiful young lady. Mr. Cruickshank's house consisted of a floor at the top of a common stair now marked No. 30, in St. James's Square, Edinburgh; here the poet for some time lived with him, his room being one which has a window looking out from the gable of the house upon the green, behind the General Register House. Here alo Burns lay while confined with a bruised limb in the winter of 1787-8. Mr. Cruickshank died, March 8, 1795.]

VAR. On the early day.

May'st thou long, sweet crimson gem,
Richly deck thy native stem:
'Till some ev'ning, sober, calm,
Dropping dews, and breathing balm,
While all around the woodland rings,
And ev'ry bird thy requiem sings;
Thou, amid the dirgeful sound,
Shed thy dying honours round,
And resign to parent earth

The loveliest form she e'er gave birth.

[Burns often intimated his friendships-or attachments-in verse or prose, on the blank leaf of a favourite book, and then presented the volume to the object of his regard. He was mostly attached to ladies whose voices were sweet and harmonious, or who excelled in music. Of the spell which music threw over him we have the following very graphic account, from one who knew him well:-"About the end of October, I called for him at the house of a friend, whose daughter, though not more than twelve, was a considerable proficient in music. I found him seated by the harpsichord of this young lady, listening with the keenest interest to his own verses, which she sang and accompanied, and adjusting them to the music by repeated trials of the effect. In this occupation he was totally absorbed; it was difficult to draw his attention from it for a moment; and it is to the enthusiasm which the nature of his undertaking inspired that the excellence of its execution must be ascribed. Had his ardour been less, I should probably have regretted to see his genius no longer left free to the impulse of inclination, and the excitement of interesting occurrences, but employed in amendment or imitation, and partly expended in overcoming the difficulties occasioned by an additional circumspection, both in subject and measure."-PROFESSOR WALKER.]

["William Chalmers was, in those days, a writer in Ayr, and a staunch comrade of the Poet: he was his correspondent also: but only one of the letters of Burns has survived the change which time and death make. I have not heard that the lady yielded to the influence of verse: women are seldom rhymed into wedlock."-CUNNINGHAM.]

[The above lively verses were first printed by Mr. Lockhart, from some MSS. which were sent by the poet to Lady Harriet Don.]

A Prayer,

LEFT, BY THE AUTHOR, AT A REVEREND FRIEND'S

HOUSE, IN THE ROOM WHERE HE SLEPT.

I.

0 THOU dread Pow'r, 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.

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 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 driv'n,
May they rejoice, no wand'rer lost,
A family in Heav'n!

"The first time," says Gilbert Burns, "Robert "heard the spinnet played upon was at the house of Dr. Lawrie, then minister of Loudon, now in Glasgow, having given up the parish in favour of his son. Dr. Lawrie had 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."

[Dr. Lawrie was the medium through whom Dr. Blacklock transmitted the letter by which Burns was arrested on his flight to the West Indies, and induced to go to Edinburgh. This Rev. Mr. Balfour Graham, minister of North (1838) in the possession of the Berwick, who is connected with the family by marriage.]

letter is now

Epistle to Gabin Hamilton, Esq.,

MAUCHLINE.

RECOMMENDING A BOY.

I.

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 ha'e na ony fear.

Ye'll catechise him every quirk,
An' shore him weel wi' hell;
An' gar him follow to the kirk-
Aye 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 gi'en,
In Paisley John's, that night at e'en,
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,
When simple bodies let him;
An' if a Devil be at a',

In faith he's sure to get him.
To phrase you, an' praise you,
Ye ken your Laureat scorns:
The pray'r still, share still,
you
Of grateful MINSTREL BURNS.

[Master Tootie, Cromek informs us, lived in Mauchline, and dealt in cows. It was his common practice to cut the nicks or markings from the horns of cattle, to disguise their age, and so bring a higher price. He was an artful, trickdrawer,' an epithet which the Bard had already contriving person: hence he is called a 'sneck

appled to-the devil. In his "Address to the Deil," he styles that august personage—an auld snech-drawing dog!]

The airles-earnest money.

252

Epistle to Mr. M'Adam,

OF CRAIGEN-GILLAN.

SIR, o'er a gill I gat your card,
I trow it made me proud;
"See wha tak's notice o' the bard!"
I lap and cry'd fu' loud,

"Now deil-ma-care about their jaw,
The senseless, gawky million;
I'll cock my nose aboon them a'
I'm roos'd by Craigen-Gillan!"
'Twas noble, Sir; 'twas like yoursel,
To grant your high protection:
A great man's smile, ye ken fu' weel,
Is aye a blest infection.

Tho' by his banes wha in a tub

Match'd Macedonian Sandy!
On my ain legs, thro' dirt and dub,

I independent stand ay.—

And when those legs to guid, warm kail, Wi' welcome canna bear me;

A lee dyke-side, a sybow-tail,

And barley-scone shall cheer me.

Heav'n spare you lang to kiss the breath
O' mony flow'ry simmers!
And bless your bonnie lasses baith,

I'm tauld they're loosome kimmers !

And God bless young Dunaskin's laird, The blossom of our gentry!

And may he wear an auld man's beard, A credit to his country.

[The above is a hasty, unpremeditated effusion. In the commencement of his poetic career, Burns, receiving an obliging letter from the laird of Craigen - Gillan, to whom his friend Woodburn was factor, he took up a sheet of paper, as he “sat owre a gill," and thanked him in verse. The Bard, amid his joy, forgets not that he is independent; and, in asserting his independence, he remembers that old age will come, and perhaps poverty; but then "a lee dykeside and barley-scone" would cheer one who had been accustomed to simple fare.]

Nature's Law.

A POEM,

HUMBLY INSCRIBED

TO GAVIN HAMILTON, ESQ.

"Great nature spoke, observant man obeyed."-POPE.

I.

LET other heroes boast their scars, The marks of sturt and strife;

* Diogenes.

And other poets sing of wars,

The plagues of human life: Shame fa' the fun, wi' sword and gun,

To slap mankind like lumber! I sing his name and nobler fame, Wha multiplies our number.

II.

Great Nature spoke, with air benign, "Go on, ye human race! This lower world I you resign;

Be fruitful and increase. The liquid fire of strong desire I've pour'd it in each bosom; Here, in this hand, does mankind stand, And there, is beauty's blossom!"

III.

The hero of these artless strains,
A lowly bard was he,

Who sung his rhymes in Coila's plains,
With mickle mirth an' glee;
Kind Nature's care had given his share,
Large, of the flaming current;
And, all devout, he never sought
To stem the sacred torrent.

IV.

He felt the powerful, high behest,
Thrill, vital, thro' and thro';
And sought a correspondent breast,
To give obedience due:

Propitious Powers screen'd the young flow'rs
From mildews of abortion;
And lo! the bard, a great reward,
Has got a double portion!

V.

Auld, cantie Coil may count the day,
As annual it returns,

The third of Libra's equal sway,
That gave another Burns,
With future rhymes, an' other times,
To emulate his sire;

To sing auld Coil in nobler style,
With more poetic fire.

VI.

Ye powers of peace, and peaceful song,
Look down with gracious eyes;
And bless auld Coila, large and long,
With multiplying joys;

Lang may she stand to prop the land,
The flow'r of ancient nations;
And Burns's spring, her fame to sing,
To endless generations!

[These verses were first published in Pickering's edition of the poetical works of Burns, printed from the original MS. in the Poet's hand-writing. They appear to have been composed soon after his "Bonnie Jean" had presented him with twins.]

viour. The Poet answered him in a strain which must have made the other, as Hamilton says,

"Strangely fidge and fike."

It has been surmised that Burns wrote the monitory letter himself, for the sake of the answer. "To be able to write down to the level of the following verses," says Mr. Cunningham, "is a compliment to his genius, though not a just one."

Epistle from a Tailor

(THOMAS WALKER, OCHILTREE,)—
TO ROBERT BURNS.

WHAT waefu' news is this I hear, Frae greeting I can scarce forbear, Folks tell me ye're gaun aff this year, Out o'er the sea,

And lasses wham ye lo'e sae dear
Will greet for thee.

Weel wad I like war ye to stay,
But, Robin, since you will away,
I hae a word yet mair to say,
And maybe twa;

May He protect us night and day,
That made us a'.

Whar thou art gaun, keep mind frae me,
Seek Him to bear thee companie,
And, Robin, whan ye come to die,
Ye'll won aboon,

An' live at peace an' unity

Ayont the moon.

Some tell me, Rab, ye dinna fear
To get a wean, an' curse an' swear,
I'm unco wae, my lad, to hear
O' sic a trade,
Could I persuade ye to forbear,
I wad be glad.

Fu' weel ye ken ye'll gang to hell,
Gin ye persist in doin' ill-

Waes me! ye're hurlin' down the hill
Withouten dread,
An' ye'll get leave to swear your fill
After ye're dead.

There, walth o' women ye'll get near,
But gettin' weans ye will forbear,

Ye'll never say, my bonnie dear,

Come, gie's a kissNae kissing there-ye'll girn an' sneer, An' ither hiss.

O Rab! lay by thy foolish tricks,

An' steer nae mair the female sex,

Or some day ye'll come through the pricks,
And that ye'll see;
Ye'll fin' hard living wi' Auld Nicks-
I'm wae for thee.

But what's this comes wi' sic a knell,
Amaist as loud as ony bell,
While it does mak' my conscience tell
Me what is true,

I'm but a ragget cowt mysel',
Owre sib to you!

We're owre like those wha think it fit To stuff their noddles fu' o' wit,