In a letter to William Nicol, dated the 9th of February, 1790, Burns wrote- "For the last two or three months, on an average, I have not ridden less than two hundred miles per week. I have done little in the poetic way. I have given Mr. Sutherland two prologues, one of which was delivered last week." "The themes which Burns points out for the tragic muse are noble ones :- -but the heroic Wallace and the beauteous Mary would require sentiment and pathos such as are rare in the modern drama. James Grahame, the author of the Sabbath, and Thomas Doubleday, of Newcastle, have composed dramas on the sub jeet of Queen Mary, and both have produced scenes which cannot be perused without emotion. Scott, too, has thrown the charms of his genius around a life already sufficiently romantic. The words which Grahame ascribes to Mary when she looks from England towards her native land, are touching : * 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. 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 borrowThat grandchild's cap will do to-morrowAnd join with me a-moralizing, This day's propitious to be wise in. First, what did yesternight deliver ? Add to our date one minute more? MARY.-O England! England! grave of murdered princes! Repose us in the silent dust. Why did I leave thee, Scotland, dearest land? In thee I had some friends-they died for me: O were I on the side of yon dim mountain! Though wild and bleak it be, it is in Scotland. MARY.-No! 'tis a mountain of sweet Annandale. Then is it wise to damp our bliss? 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: ADELAIDE.-Ah, no! 'tis but a cloud; you know our distance. That on this frail, uncertain state, MARY.-Well, then, it is a cloud that hovers o'er My dear, my native land: I love that cloud, Of happiness, and yet it filled our eyes With tears: we heard it in the vale of Morven : 'Twas something-'Twas about the voice of Cona ADELAIDE. The maiden with the distaff by the stream 'Twas she that sung it. I do remember-and after she had sung it, She tried to tell it o'er in broken Scottish. MARY.-Let me hear it. ADELAIDE. I feel my heart so full that but one note, A single note, sung even by myself, Would quite untune my voice. Hang matters of eternal weight: Since then, my honor'd, first of friends, And live as those who never die. Tho' you, with days and honours crown'd, Witness that filial circle round, (A sight, life's sorrows to repulse, A sight, pale Envy to convulse,) MARY.-The weary rook hies home-my home's a prison, Others now claim your chief regard; All things are free but me. Why did I leave Mary's woes still await some future Shakspeare, or pathetic Otway."CUNNINGHAM. Dew Year's Day.-A Sketch. TO MRS. DUNLOP. THIS day, Time winds th' exhausted chain, To wheel the equal, dull routine. Major, afterwards General Andrew Dunlop, Mrs. Dunlop's second son. He died, unmarried, in the West Indies, in 1804, while obeying the call of his professional duty. Yourself, you wait your bright reward. [The picture contained in this sketch of the fire-side of Mrs. Dunlop is equally true and beautiful. That lady herself had not only a fine taste for poetry, but she wrote verses elcgant and flowing: her son, the late General Dunlop, exhibited all the courage of his house, and it has been remarked that, for fiery and persevering impetuosity of attack, few officers equalled him. Her daughter Rachel, whose skill in drawing was considerable, employed her pencil on the Coila of the Vision. To this Burns refers in one of his letters,-"I am highly flattered by the news you tell me of Coila. I may say to the fair painter who does me so much honour, as Dr. Beattie says to Ross the poet, of his muse Scota-from which, by-the-by, I took the idea of Coila 'Ye shake your head, but by my fegs, Bum-baz'd and dizzie; Her fiddle wanted strings and pegs, Wae's me, poor hizzie !' "' The Scota of Ross, described by Burns as the forerunner of Coila, figures in the Invocation to "The Fortunate Shepherdess." On the original MS. of these lines, in the poet's hand-writing, Burns wrote as follows: "On second thoughts I send you this extempore blotted sketch. It is just the first random scrawl; but if you think the piece worth while, I shall retouch it, and finish it. Though I have no copy of it, my memory serves me.]" Lines WRITTEN TO A GENTLEMAN WHO HAD SENT HIM A NEWSPAPER, AND OFFERED KIND Sir, I've read your paper through, If Spaniards, Portuguese, or Swiss In Britain's Court, kept up the game: * [The Poet here took the opportunity of making a hasty summary of important matters, on which even a solitary newspaper had thrown light, and this he has done with both knowledge and humour. We know now-to the shame of Europe-who has the "tack of Poland." We also know that Warren Hastings triumphed over the eloquence of his opponents, and is now looked upon by many as a sort of martyr in the cause of our empire in the East. The favourable change which took place respecting him in public opinion has been ascribed to a pamphlet written by Logan, the minister of Leith. Burns was not solitary in his sarcastic strictures on the wild course of life pursued by some of our | The news o' princes, dukes, and earls, The Ruined Maid's Lament. That e'er I heard your flattering tongue, Now I maun thole the scornfu' sneer O' mony a saucy quean; When, gin the truth were a' but kent, He stares into the wa'; My tears rin down like rain. Sic bitter fruit should bear! Alas! that e'er a bonnie face Should draw a sauty tear! But Heaven's curse will blast the man Or leaves the painfu' lass he lov'd Verses ON THE DESTRUCTION OF THE WOODS NEAR As on the banks o' wandering Nith, young princes. His sallies are not ill-natured, nor is be unwilling to believe that the folly of youth will sober down into sedateness and wisdom.-CUNNINGHAM.] These touching verses first appeared in Hogg and Motherwell's edition of the Poet's works.] [The Duke of Queensberry stripped his domains of Drumlanrig in Dumfries-shire, and Neidpath in Peeblesshire, of all the wood fit for being cut, in order to enrich the Countess of Yarmouth, whom he supposed to be his daughter, and to whom, by a singular piece of good fortune on her part, Mr. George Selwyn, the celebrated wit, also left a fortune, under the same, and probably equally mistaken, impression.] His forbears' virtues all contrasted- Hate, envy, oft the Douglas bore; And sunk them in contempt; ON AN Evening View of the Ruins of YE holy walls, that, still sublime, As through your ruins, hoar and grey,— tance from Dumfries, are the beautiful ruins of the Abbey of Lincluden, which was founded in the time of Malcolm, the fourth King of Scotland. The above splendid lines by the great national Poet of Scotland first appeared in Hogg and Motherwell's edition of the works of Burns, published at Glasgow in 1837, in 5 vols., small 8vo.] But, as I gaze, the vision fails, Like frost-work touch'd by southern gales; Her home, these aisles and arches high! The Discreet Hint. LASS, when your mither is frae hame, Young man, gin ye should be sae kind, Tak' tent, I'll tell thee what, The way to me lies through the kirk:Young man, do hear that? ye The Tree of Liberty.* I. HEARD ye o' the tree o' France, II. Upo' this tree there grows sic fruit, It maks him ken himsel, man. [*This poem is taken from a MS. in the Poet's hand-writing in the possession of Mr. James Duncan, Mosesfield, We labour soon, we labour late To feed the titl'd knave, man, And a' the comfort we're to get Is that ayont the grave, man. X. Wi' plenty o' sic trees, I trow, The warld would live in peace, man; The sword would help to mak' a plough, The din o' war wad cease, man. Like brethren in a common cause, We'd on each other smile, man; And equal rights and equal laws Wad gladden every isle, man. XI. Wae worth the loon wha wadna eat Sure plant this far-fam'd tree, man; And blythe we'll sing, and hail the day That gave us liberty, man. Verses to my Bed.* THOU bed, in which I first began [These verses seem to have been suggested by a qua train of Dr. Johnson, of which they are simply an expan sion: In bed we laugh, in bed we cry, And, born in bed, in bed we die: The near approach a bed may show Of human bliss and human woe.] t[Peg Nicholson was the successor of Jenny Geddes: the latter took her name from the zealous dame who threw a stool Elegy on Peg Nicholson.† PEG Nicholson was a good bay mare, But now she's floating down the Nith, Peg Nicholson was a good bay mare, Peg Nicholson was a good bay mare, Peg Nicholson was a good bay mare, ["One of the men of skill whom Burns brought to the aid of Peg Nicholson was the eccentric Samuel Colan; a person eminently skilled in the ailments of four-footed creatures, but who believed that all diseases among cattle or horses proceeded from witchcraft or the malice of elves and fairies. The swelling of a cow from eating dewy clover was caused, he said, by a spell: pains in the limbs arose, he was certain, from elfarrows, and with regard to witches, he declared that the Cauldside of Dunscore was swarming with them. Little was to be hoped from honest Samuel's skill, if his employer chanced to smile as he laid down the rustic law regarding murrain, mooril, and other ailments."CUNNINGHAM.] Elegy on Captain Matthew Henderson, A GENTLEMAN WHO HELD THE PATENT FOR HIS HONOURS IMMEDIATELY FROM ALMIGHTY GOD. "Should the poor be flattered?” SHAKSPEARE. But now his radiant course is run, O DEATH! thou tyrant fell and bloody! The meikle devil wi' a woodie Haurl thee hame to his black smiddie, at the Dean of Edinburgh's head, when the ritual of the Episcopal Church was introduced; and the former acquired the name of Peg Nicholson from that frantic virago who attempted the life of George III. Peg was lent to Burns by his friend William Nicol. The Poet enclosed the above verses in a letter to his friend, in February, 1790, with a long account of the deceased mare, which letter will be found in the cor respondence of that year.] VAR. In the original MS. this motto formed the last verse of the Epitaph, and closed the subject very beautifully. |