And toothy critics by the score In bloody raw! The adjutant o' a' the core Willie's awa! VII. Now worthy G*****y's latin face, As Rome ne'er saw; They a' maun meet some ither place, VIII. Willie's awa! Poor Burns-e'en Scotch drink canna quicken, By hoodie-craw; Grief's gien his heart an unco kickin', IX. Willie's awa! Now ev'ry sour-mou'd girnin' blellum, His quill may draw ; He wha could brawlie ward their bellum X. Willie 's awa! Up wimpling stately Tweed I've sped, While tempests blaw¿, But every joy and pleasure's fled XI. Wille's awa! May I be slander's common speech; And lastly, streekit out to bleach In winter snaw; When I forget thee! WILLIE CREECH, Tho' far awa! + XII. May never wicked fortune touzle him! He canty claw! Then to the blessed, New Jerusalem Fleet wing awa! No. XV. To Mr. W. NICOL, Master of the High School, Edinburgh. Carlisle, June 1, 1787. KIND HONEST-HEARTED WILLIE, I'M sitten down here, after seven and forty miles ridin, e'en as forjesket and forniaw'd as a forfoughten cock, to gie you some notion o' my land lowper-like stravaguin sin the sorrowfu' hour that I sheuk hands and parted wi' auld Reekie. My auld, ga'd gleyde o' a meere has huchyall'd up hill and down brae, in Scotland and England, as teugh and birnie as a very devil wi' me.* It 's true, * This mare was the Poet's favourite JENNY GEDDES, of whom honourable and most humorous mention is made in a letter, inserted in Dr. Currie's edition, vol. i, p. 165. This old faithful servant of the Poet's was named by him, after the old woman, who in her zeal against religious innovation, threw a stool at the Dean of Edinburgh's head, when he attempted in 1637, to introduce the Scottish Liturgy. "On Sunday, the twenty-third of July, the Dean of Edinburgh prepared to officiate in St. Giles's. The congregation continued quiet till the service began, when an old woman, impelled by sudden indignation, started up, and exclaiming aloud, she 's as poor 's a sang-maker, and as hard's a kirk, and tipper-taipers when she taks the gate, first like a lady's gentlewoman in a minuwae, or a hen on a het girdle, but she's a yauld, poutherie Girran for a' that, and has a stomack like Willie Stalker's meere that wad hae disgeested tumbler-wheels, for she'll whip me aff her five stimparts o' the best aits at a down-sittin and ne'er fash her thumb. When ance her ringbanes and spavies, her crucks and cramps, are fairly soupl'd, she beets to, beets to, and ay the hindmost hour the tightest. I could wager her price to a thretty pennies that, for twa or three wooks ridin at fifty mile a day, the deilsticket a five gallopers acqueesh Clyde and Whithorn could cast saut on her tail. I hae dander'd owre a' the Kintra frae Dumbar to Selcraig, and hae forgather'd wi' mony a guid fallow, and monie a weelfar'd hizzie. I met wi', twa dink quines in particlar, ane o' them a sonsie, fine, fodgel lass, baith braw and bonie; the tither was a cleanshankit, straught, tight, weelfar'd winch, as blythe's a lintwhite on a flowerie thorn, and as sweet and modest 's a new blawn plumrose in a hazel shaw. They were baith bred to mainers by the beuk, and onie ane o' them had as muckle smeddum and rumblgumption as the half o' some presbytries that you and I baith ken. They play'd me sik a deevil o' a shavie that I daur say if my harigals were turn'd out, ye wad see twa nicks i' the heart o' me like the mark o' a kailwhittle in a castock. I was gaun to write you a lang pystle, but, Gude forgie me, I gat mysel sae notouriously bitchify'd the day after kail-time that I can hardly stoiter but and ben. 'Villain! dost thou say the Mass at my lug? threw the stool on which she had been sitting, at the Dean's head. A wild uproar commenced that instant. The woman invaded the desk with execrations and outcries, and the Dean disengaged himself from his surplice to escape from their hands."-Laing's History of Scotland, vol. iii, p. 122. E. My best respecks to the guidwife and a' our common friens, especiall Mr. and Mrs. Cruikshank and the honest guidman o' Jock's Lodge. I'll be in Dumfries the morn gif the beast be to the fore, and the branks bide hale. I am now arrived safe in my native country, after a very agreeable jaunt, and have the pleasure to find all my friends well. I breakfasted with your grayheaded, reverend friend, Mr. Smith; and was highly pleased both with the cordial welcome he gave me, and his most excellent appearance and sterling good sense. I have been with Mr. Miller at Dalswinton, and am to meet him again in August. From my view of the lands and his reception of my bardship, my hopes in that business are rather mended; but still they are but slender. I am quite charmed with Dumfries folks-Mr. Burnside, the clergyman, in particular, is a man whom I shall ever gratefully remember; and his wife, Gude forgie me, I had almost broke the tenth commandment on her account. Simplicity, elegance, good sense, sweetness of disposition, good humor, kind hospitality, are the constituents of her manner and heart; in short but if I say one word more about her, I shall be directly in love with her. I never, my friend, thought mankind very capable of any thing generous; but the stateliness of the Pa tricians in Edinburgh, and the servility of my plebeian brethren, (who perhaps formerly eyed me askance,) since I returned home, have nearly put me out of conceit altogether with my species. I have bought a pocket Milton which I carry perpetually about with me, in order to study the sentiments-the dauntless magnanimity; the intrepid, unyielding independance, the desperate, daring, and noble defiance of hardship, in that great personage, SATAN. 'Tis true, I have just now a little cash; but I am afraid the star that hitherto has shed its malignant, purposeblasting rays full in my zenith; that noxious planet so baneful in its influences to the rhyming tribe, I much dread it is not yet beneath my horizon. Misfortune dodges the path of human life; the poetic mind finds itself miserably deranged in, and unfit for the walks of business; add to all, that thoughtless follies and harebrained whims, like so many ignes fatui, eternally diverging from the right line of sober discretion, sparkle with step-bewitching blaze in the idly-gazing eyes of the poor heedless Bard, till, pop, "he falls, like Lucifer, never to hope again." God grant this may be an unreal picture with respect to me! but should it not, I have very little dependance on mankind. I will close my letter with this tribute my heart bids me pay you the many ties of acquaintance and friendship which I have, or think I have in life, I have felt along the lines and, d-n them! they are almost all of them of such frail contexture, that I am sure they would not stand the breath of the least adverse breeze of fortune; but from you, my ever dear sir, I look with confidence for the Apostolic love that shall wait on me "through good report and bad report❞— the love which Solomon emphatically says "Is strong as death." My compliments to Mrs. Nicol, and all the circle of our common friends. P. S. I shall be in Edinburgh about the latter end of July 1 |