Or wake the bosom-melting throe,

• With Shenstone's art; 250

'Or pour, with Gray, the moving flow

'Warm on the heart.

Yet, all beneath th' unrivall'd rose, The lowly daisy sweetly blows; 'Tho' large the forest's monarch throws

6

'His army shade,

Adown the glade.

Yet green the juicy hawthorn grows,

Then never murmur nor repine;
Strive in thy humble sphere to shine;

'And trust me, not Potosi's mine,

6

Nor King's regard,

Can give a bliss o'ermatching thine,

A rustic Bard.

To give my counsels all in one,

Thy tuneful flame still careful fan;
Preserve the dignity of Man,

'With Soul erect;

'And trust, the Universal Plan

Will all protect.

'And wear thou this '-she solemn said, And bound the Holly round my head: The polish'd leaves, and berries red,

Did rustling play;

And, like a passing thought, she fled
In light away.

260

270

ADDRESS TO THE UNCO GUID, OR THE

RIGIDLY RIGHTEOUS.*

My son, these maxims make a rule,
And lump them aye thegither;
The RIGID RIGHTEOUS is a fool,

The RIGID WISE anither:
The cleanest corn that e'er was dight
May hae some pyles o' caff in ;
So ne'er a fellow-creature slight
For random fits o' daffin.

Solomon.-Eccles. vii. 16.

YE wha are sae guid yoursel,

Sae pious and sae holy,

Ye've nought to do but mark and tell
Your Neebour's fauts and folly!

In this beautiful Poem, which was first printed in the second edition of his works, Burns has versified the following reflections, which occur among the memoranda given by him to Mr. Riddell:

March, 1784.

"I have often observed, in the course of my experience of human life, that every man, even the worst, has something good about him, though very often nothing else than a happy temperament of constitution inclining him to this or that virtue. For this reason, no man can say in what degree any other person, besides himself, can be, with strict justice, called wicked. Let any of the strictest character for regularity of conduct among us examine impartially how many vices he has never been guilty of, not from any care or vigilance, but for want of opportunity, or some accidental circumstance intervening; how many of the weaknesses of mankind he has escaped, because he was out of the line of such temptation; and, what often, if not always, weighs more than the rest, how much he is indebted to the world's good opinion, because the world does not know all: I say, any man who can thus think will scan the failings, nay, the faults and crimes, of mankind around him, with a brother's eye."

Whase life is like a weel-gaun mill,
Supply'd wi' store o' water,
The heapet happer's ebbing still,
And still the clap plays clatter.

Hear me, ye venerable Core,

As counsel for poor mortals,
That frequent pass douce Wisdom's door,
For glaikit Folly's portals;

I, for their thoughtless, careless sakes,
Would here propone defences,
Their donsie tricks, their black mistakes,
Their failings and mischances.

Ye see your state wi' their's compar'd,

And shudder at the niffer,

But cast a moment's fair regard,

What maks the mighty differ;
Discount what scant occasion gave
That purity ye pride in,

And (what's aft mair than a' the lave)
Your better art o' hiding.

Think, when your castigated pulse
Gies now and then a wallop,
What raging must his veins convulse,
That still eternal gallop:

Wi' wind and tide fair i' your tail,

Right on ye scud your sea-way;
But in the teeth o' baith to sail,
It maks an unco leeway.

See Social life and Glee sit down,

All joyous and unthinking,

30

Till, quite transmugrify'd, they're grown
Debauchery and Drinking:

O would they stay to calculate

Th' eternal consequences;
Or your more dreaded hell to state,
Damnation of expenses !

Ye high, exalted, virtuous Dames,
Ty'd up in godly laces,
Before ye gie poor Frailty names,
Suppose a change o' cases;
A dear lov'd lad, convenience snug,
A treacherous inclination-
But, let me whisper i' your lug,
Ye're aiblins nae temptation.

Then gently scan your brother Man,
Still gentler sister Woman;
Tho' they may gang a kennin wrang,
To step aside is human :

One point must still be greatly dark,
The moving Why they do it;
And just as lamely can ye mark,
How far perhaps they rue it.

Who made the heart, 'tis He alone

Decidedly can try us,

He knows each chord-its various tone,

Each spring-its various bias:

Then at the balance let's be mute,

We never can adjust it;

What's done we partly may compute,

But know not what's resisted.

TAM SAMSON'S ELEGY.*

An honest man's the noblest work of God.-Pope.

AS auld Kilmarnock seen the Deil?
Or great M'Kinlay + thrawn his heel?
Or Robinson again grown weel,
To preach an' read?

Na, waur than a'!' cries ilka chiel,

Tam Samson's dead!'

When this worthy old sportsman went out last muirfowl season, he supposed it was to be, in Ossian's phrase, 'the last of his fields;' and expressed an ardent wish to die and be buried in the muirs. On this hint the author composed his Elegy and Epitaph. R. B.-Burns sent a copy of these verses, prepared for printing, to Mr. Robert Muir, in a letter dated Mossgiel, 18th November, 1786.-"Some one having informed Samson, in his old age, that Burns had written a Poem-' a gay queer one'-concerning him, he sent for the Bard, and, in something like wrath, requested to hear it. He smiled grimly at the relation of his exploits, and then cried out, 'I'm no dead yet, Robin,-I'm worth ten dead fowk; wherefore should ye say that I am dead?' Burns took the hint, retired to the window for a minute or so, and, coming back, recited the 'Per Contra;' with which Tam was so delighted, that he rose unconsciously, rubbed his hands, and exclaimed, 'That'll do-ha, ha-that'll do.' He survived the Poet, and 'the epitaph' is inscribed on his grave in Kilmarnock churchyard."-Allan Cunningham. These verses were first printed in the second edition.

† A certain preacher, a great favourite with the million. Vide the Ordination,' stanza ii. R. B.

Another preacher, an equal favourite with the few, who was at that time ailing. For him, see also the Ordination,' stanza ix. R. B.