EPISTLE TO MAJOR LOGAN. HAIL, thairm' inspirin' rattlin' Willie !" But tak' it like the unbacked filly, When idly goavan3 whiles we saunter, Hale be your heart! hale be your fiddle! Until you on a cummock driddle A grey-haired carl. Come wealth, come poortith," late or soon, A fifth or mair, The melancholious, lazy croon 10 O' cankrie care! 7 Struggle. These three lines also occur in the Second Epistle to Davie. 8 Until you hobble on a staff. 10 Drone. 9 Poverty. 11 Gadflies. TO MAJOR LOGAN. 2 My hand waled' curse keep hard in chase Their tuneless hearts! May fireside discords jar a bass To a' their parts! But come, your hand, my careless brither- We cheek for chow shall jog thegither, We've faults and failings-granted clearly, But still-but still-I like them dearly- 7 Ochon! for poor Castalian drinkers, And gart me weet my waukrife winkers, Wi' girnin'" spite. 10 But by yon moon !-and that's high swearin'- And by her een wha was a dear ane I'll ne'er forget; I hope to gi'e the jads 12 a clearin' In fair play yet. 197 198 TO THE GUIDWIFE OF WAUCHOPE HOUSE. Faites mes baisemains respectueuses And honest Lucky; no to roose1 ye, That sic a couple Fate allows ye To grace your blood. Nae mair at present can I measure, And trouth my rhymin' ware's nae treasure; Sir Bard will do himsel' the pleasure To call at Park. Mossgiel, Oct. 30, 1786.. ROBERT BURNS. TO THE GUIDWIFE OF WAUCHOPE HOUSE. GUIDWIFE, 1 Praise. I mind it weel, in early date, When I was beardless, young, and blate,3 And first could thrash the barn, Or haud a yokin' at the pleugh; 4 And though forfoughten sair enuegh, Yet unco proud to learn: When first amang the yellow corn A man I reckoned was And wi' the lave3 ilk merry morn Still shearing, and clearing, Even then a wish, (I mind its power,) Shall strongly heave my breast- 2 Mrs. Scott, of Wauchope, was a lady of great taste and talent. She was niece to Mrs. Cockburn, who wrote a version of "Flowers of the Forest." 7 3 Bashful. • Fatigued, 6 Idle stories and gossip. Rest. TO THE GUIDWIFE OF WAUCHOPE HOUSE. 199 1 Barley. The rough burr-thistle, spreading wide I turned the weeder clips aside, My envy e'er could raise, But still the elements o' sang, At every kindling keek," 3 Health to the sex! ilk guid chiel says, Ye surly sumphs, who hate the name, She, honest woman, may think shame Ye're wae men, ye're nae men, Ilk honest birkie' swears. For you, no bred to barn and byre, + Made. 10 Worn 2 Harvest. 5 Glance. 8 Woeful. 10 3 Comely lass. 6 Fellow. I'd be mair vauntie' o' my hap,2 Ne'er at your hallan1 ca'! EPISTLE TO WILLIAM CREECH.5 WRITTEN AT SELKIRK. AULD chuckie Reekie's sair distrest, Can yield ava, Her darling bird that she lo'es best, Willie's awa'! Oh, Willie was a witty wight, And had o' things an unco slight; 7 An' trig an' braw: But now they'll busk her like a fright, The stiffest o' them a' he bowed; We've lost a birkie weel worth gowd,— 9 Willie's awa'! Now gawkies, tawpies, 10 gowks, and fools, May sprout like simmer puddock-stools" He wha could brush them down to mools, 2 2 Proud. 4 Porch. Willie's awa'! 2 Covering. Bravely hanging. 5 The most celebrated publisher in Edinburgh. He published the works of all the best Scottish authors known at the close of the eighteenth century. He was himself a writer. He published Edinburgh Fugitive Pieces" in 1815. 66 • Edinburgh. 9 Simpletons. 12 The dust. 7 Knowledge. 10 Sluts. 8 Fellow. |