The Canongate Burns (50 page)
Read The Canongate Burns Online
Authors: Robert Burns
Written on the Blank Leaf of a Book,
presented to her by the Author
First printed in the Edinburgh edition, 1793.
Beauteous rose-bud, young and gay,
Blooming on thy early May,
Never may'st thou, lovely Flower,
Chilly shrink in sleety shower!
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Never Boreas' hoary path,
Never Eurus' pois'nous breath,
Never baleful stellar lights,
Taint thee with untimely blights!
Never, never reptile thief
10
Riot on thy virgin leaf!
Nor even Sol too fiercely view
Thy bosom blushing still with dew!Â
May'st thou long, sweet crimson gem,
Richly deck thy native stem;
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Till some evening, 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,
20
Shed thy dying honours round,
And resign to parent Earth
The loveliest form she e'er gave birth.Â
This was composed for Miss Jean Cruikshank, the only daughter of William, a classics teacher at the High School Edinburgh and colleague of William Nicol (see Letters 142, 214, and 292 for Burns's correspondence to W. Cruikshank). The poem was probably written late in 1788, although dating the letter containing the poem to William Cruikshank is problematic, estimated for sometime in December 1788 or January 1789. Burns first describes the young girl as âthe sweet little Rose-bud' in March, 1788 (Letter 214). David Sillar of Irvine composed the music for these verses.
First printed in the London Star, 18th April, 1789.
Anna, thy charms my bosom fire,
         And waste my soul with care;
But ah! how bootless to admire,
         When fated to despair!Â
Yet in thy presence, lovely Fair,
         To hope may be forgiven;
For sure 'twere impious to despair
         So much in sight of Heaven.Â
This song is generally thought to have appeared first in the Edinburgh edition, 1793. It first publication, was, however, in a London newspaper. It is featured the day after
Ode on the Departed Regency
Bill
in Peter Stuart's spurious Star (so named because another newspaper
The London Star
existed, the spurious Star being formed after Stuart led a breakaway from the main paper). It was copied and printed by
The London Gazetteer
a few days later, 20th April, 1789.
Brother to a Young Lady,
A Particular Friend of the Author's
First printed in the Edinburgh edition, 1793.
Sad thy tale, thou idle page,
         And rueful thy alarms;
Death tears the brother of her love
         From Isabella's arms.
5
Sweetly deckt with pearly dew
         The morning rose may blow;
But cold successive noontide blasts
         May lay its beauties low.
Fair on Isabella's morn
10
         The sun propitious smil'd;
But, long ere noon, succeeding clouds
         Succeeding hopes beguil'd.
Fate oft tears the bosom chords
         That Nature finest strung:
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So Isabella's heart was form'd,
         And so that heart was wrung.
Dread Omnipotence, alone,
         Can heal the wound He gave;
Can point the brimful grief-worn eyes
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         To scenes beyond the grave.
Virtue's blossoms there shall blow,
         And fear no withering blast;
There Isabella's spotless worth
         Shall happy be at last.Â
This is a poem of condolence to Miss Isabella McLeod, described by Burns as âAunt to the young Countess of Loudon' near Kilmarnock (Letter 139). A copy of the poem was included in a letter to Patrick Miller on 28th September 1787. John McLeod, the younger brother of Isabella, died on 20th July 1787 and the poem was composed shortly after Burns read of his death in an Edinburgh newspaper.
1
Â
to the Noble Duke of Athole
First printed in the Edinburgh edition, 1793.Â
My Lord, I know, your noble ear
       Woe ne'er assails in vain;
Embolden'd thus, I beg you'll hear
       Your humble slave complain,Â
5
How saucy Phoebus' scorching beams,
the Sun
       In flaming summer-pride,
Dry-withering, waste my foamy streams,
       And drink my crystal tide.
The lightly-jumping, glowrin' trouts,
staring/keen-eyed
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       That thro' my waters play,
If, in their random, wanton spouts,
darts
       They near the margin stray;
If, hapless chance! they linger lang,
long
       I'm scorching up so shallow,
15
They're left the whitening stanes amang,
stones among
       In gasping death to wallow.
Last day I grat wi' spite and teen,
wept, vexation
       As Poet Burns came by,
That, to a Bard, I should be seen
20
       Wi' half my channel dry:
A panegyric rhyme, I ween,
trust
       Ev'n as I was he shor'd me;
threatened/offered
But, had I in my glory been,
       He, kneeling, wad ador'd me.
would have
25
Here, foaming down the skelvy rocks,
shelved
       In twisting strength I rin;
run/flow
There high my boiling torrent smokes,
       Wild-roaring o'er a linn:
a waterfall
Enjoying large each spring and well
30
       As Nature gave them me,
I am, altho' I say't mysel,
       Worth gaun a mile to see.
going
Would, then my noble master please
       To grant my highest wishes,
35
He'll shade my banks wi' towering trees,
       And bonie spreading bushes.
bonny
Delighted doubly then, my Lord,
       You'll wander on my banks,
And listen mony a grateful bird
many
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       Return you tuneful thanks.
The sober laverock, warbling wild,
lark
       Shall to the skies aspire;
The gowdspink, Music's gayest child,
goldfinch
       Shall sweetly join the choir:
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The blackbird strong, the lintwhite clear,
linnet
       The mavis mild and mellow;
The robin pensive Autumn cheer
       In all her locks of yellow.
This, too, a covert shall ensure,
50
       To shield them from the storm;
And coward maukin sleep secure,
hare
       Low in her grassy form:
bed
Here shall the shepherd make his seat,
       To weave his crown of flowers;
55
Or find a sheltering, safe retreat,
       From prone-descending showers.
And here, by sweet, endearing stealth,
       Shall meet the loving pair,
Despising worlds with all their wealth,
60
       As empty idle care:
The flowers shall vie in all their charms
       The hour of heaven to grace,
And birks extend their fragrant arms
birch trees
       To screen the dear embrace.
65
Here haply too, at vernal dawn,
       Some musing Bard may stray,
And eye the smoking, dewy lawn,
       And misty mountain, grey;
Or, by the reaper's nightly beam,
70
       Mild-chequering thro' the trees,
Rave to my darkly dashing stream,
       Hoarse-swelling on the breeze.
Let lofty firs, and ashes cool
       My lowly banks o'erspread,
75
And view, deep-bending in the pool,
       Their shadows' wat'ry bed:
Let fragrant birks, in woodbines drest,
birches, dressed
       My craggy cliffs adorn;
And, for the little songster's nest,
80
       The close embowering thorn.
So may Old Scotia's darling hope,
       Your little angel band,
Spring, like their fathers, up to prop
       Their honour'd, native land!
85
So may, thro' Albion's farthest ken,
       To social-flowing glasses,
The grace be â âAthole's honest men
       And Athole's bonie lasses!'Â
This was composed during the first week of September 1787, when the poet was touring the Highlands. Writing from Inverness on 5th September, Burns sent a copy of the poem to Josiah Walker, tutor to the Duke of Atholl's son. He told Walker, âI have just time to write the foregoing, and to tell you that it was, at least most part of it, the effusion of the half hour that I spent at Bruar. â I don't mean that it was extempore, for I have endeavoured to brush it up as well as Mr Nicol's chat and the jogging of the chaise would allow' (Letter 135). Walker replied by telling Burns how well his poem was received at Blair Atholl and that the family wished to see it in print. He responded to this idea: âI would not like it published in any other newspaper than a magazine, nor there, but as if by chance, and “said” to be done by such a Man: but it is to me a matter totally indifferent: you are at perfect liberty to do as you please' (Letter 140). This final comment reveals how Burns instructed Walker on the manner in which the poem was to be printed and âsaid' to be by him, a move that would, during this period, add some mystique to the publication and Burns would not be seen as a self-publicist. Of course, it was not an indifferent matter to him; all his poetic compositions were the âoffspring' of his Muse or creative genius and he would have been quietly delighted if the poem appeared in print. Later, Walker, appointed Professor at the University of Glasgow, looked back on the poet's visit to the castle at Blair Atholl, recording that it was âability alone that gave him [Burns] a title to be there' (Scott Douglas, Vol. I, p. 367).
This work makes an interesting comparison to
On the Destruction
of the Trees at Drumlanrig
, a poem presented to the world as a work of Burns, but then claimed by Henry Mackenzie, although he did not add it to
his
collected writings.
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Bruar Falls, in Athole, are exceedingly picturesque and beautiful; but their effect is much impaired by the want of trees and shrubs. â R.B.
A Wild Scene among the Hills of Oughtertyre
First printed in the Edinburgh edition, 1793.Â
Why, ye tenants of the lake,
For me your wat'ry haunt forsake?
Tell me, fellow-creatures, why
At my presence thus you fly?
5
Why disturb your social joys,
Parent, filial, kindred ties? â
Common friend to you and me,
Nature's gifts to all are free:
Peaceful keep your dimpling wave,
10
Busy feed, or wanton lave;
Or, beneath the sheltering rock,
Bide the surging billow's shock.Â
Conscious, blushing for our race,
Soon, too soon, your fears I trace:
15
Man, your proud usurping foe,
Would be lord of all below:
Plumes himself in Freedom's pride,
Tyrant stern to all beside.
The eagle, from the cliffy brow,
20
Marking you his prey below,
In his breast no pity dwells,
Strong Necessity compels.
But Man, to whom alone is given
A ray direct from pitying Heaven,
25
Glories in his heart humane â
And creatures for his pleasure slain.
In these savage, liquid plains,
Only known to wandering swains,
Where the mossy riv'let strays,
30
Far from human haunts and ways;
All on Nature you depend,
And life's poor season peaceful spend.
Or, if Man's superior might
Dare invade your native right,
35
On the lofty ether borne,
Man with all his powers you scorn;
Swiftly seek, on clanging wings,
Other lakes and other springs;
And the foe you cannot brave,
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Scorn at least to be his slave.Â
A note by Burns in his Glenriddell Manuscript reads: âThis was a production of a solitary forenoon's walk from Ochtertyre-house. â I lived there, Sir William's guest, for two or three weeks, and was much flattered by my hospitable reception. â What a pity that the mere emotions of gratitude are so impotent in this world!' Tis lucky that, as we are told, they will be of some avail in the world to come.' The poet met Sir William Murray of Ochtertyre (1705â1793), the Earl of Mansfield, when visiting Blair Atholl in the first week of September 1787 and later visited the old man at his home in Strathearn, where he composed this work in October 1787. Euphemia Murray, a young cousin of Sir William, and daughter of Mungo Murray of Lintrose, is the subject of the poet's song,
Blythe Was She
. Euphemia was known as the âflower of Strathmore'. The poem is another example of Burns's preoccupation with man as bestial predator.
