And drink his health in auld Nanse Tinnock's1
Nine times a week,

If he some scheme, like tea and winnocks,*
Wad kindly seek.

1 A worthy old hostess of the author's in Mauchline, where he sometimes studies politics over a glass of guid auld Scotch drink.-B. Nanse's story was different. On seeing the poem, she declared that the poet had never been but once or twice in her house. A portrait of Nanse was taken by Brooks in 1799, and has been engraved.

2 The

young Chancellor of the Exchequer had gained some credit by a measure introduced in 1784 for preventing smuggling of tea by reducing the duty, the revenue being compensated by a tax on windows.

What though their Phoebus kinder warms,
While fragrance blooms and beauty charms!
When wretches range, in famished swarms,
The scented groves,

Or hounded forth, dishonour arms
In hungry droves.

Their gun's a burden on their shouther;
They downa bide the stink o' powther;

Their bauldest thought's a hank'ring swither uncertainty
To stan' or rin,

Till skelp-a shot-they're aff, a'throwther,
To save their skin.

But bring a Scotchman frae his hill,
Clap in his cheek a Highland gill,
Say such is royal George's will,
And there's the foc,

He has nac thought but how to kill
Twa at a blow.

Nae cauld, faint-hearted doubtings tease him;
Death comes-wi' fearless eye he sees him;
Wi' bluidy han' a welcome gies him;

And when he fa's,

To the early part of 1786 may be referred a poem which seems to have attracted less attention than most others of the same degree of effort, but which, we think, presents a most pleasing strain of that benevolent feeling which Burns entertained towards

the humbler animals. He here assumes a fictitious characterthat of an old farmer:

THE AULD FARMER'S NEW-YEAR MORNING SALUTATION TO HIS AULD MARE MAGGIE,

ON GIVING HER THE ACCUSTOMED RIPP OF CORN TO HANSEL IN THE NEW YEAR.

handful

A guid New-year I wish thee, Maggie!
Hae, there's a ripp to thy auld baggie:
Though thou's howe-backit, now, and knaggie, bony
I've seen the day

Thou could hae gaen like ony staggie

Out-owre the lay.

Though now thou's dowie, stiff, and crazy,
And thy auld hide's as white's a daisy,
I've seen thee dappl't, sleek, and glaizie,

A bonny gray:

He should been tight that daur't to raize thee
Ance in a day.

Thou ance was i' the foremost rank,
A filly buirdly, steeve, and swank,
And set weel down a shapely shank
As e'er tread yird;

And could hae flown out-owre a stank
Like ony bird.

It's now some nine-and-twenty year,
Sin' thou was my guid-father's meare;
He gied me thee, o' tocher clear,

And fifty mark;

Though it was sma', 'twas weel-won gear,
And thou was stark.

When first I gaed to woo my Jenny,
Ye then was trottin' wi' your minnie:
Though ye was trickie, slee, and funnie,
Ye ne'er was donsie :

But hamely, tawie,' quiet, and cannie,
And unco sonsie.

That day ye pranced wi' muckle pride,
When ye bure hame my bonny bride:
And sweet and gracefu' she did ride,
Wi' maiden air!
Kyle-Stewart I could braggèd wide,
For sic a pair.

1 That allows itself peaceably to be handled.

colt

drooping

excite

firm-stately

morass

dowry

strong

mother

mischievous

engaging

Though now ye dow but hoyte and hobble, can-limp

And wintle like a saumont-coble,

That day ye was a jinker noble,

For heels and win'!

And ran them till they a' did wauble

Far, far behin'!

twist

runner

reel

When thou and I were young and skeigh, high-mettled
And stable-meals at fairs were dreigh,

tedious

How thou would prance, and snore, and skreigh,

The sma' droop-rumpl't, hunter cattle,
Might aiblins waur't thee for a brattle;
But sax Scotch miles thou try't their mettle,
And gar't them whaizle:

Nae whip nor spur, but just a wattle
O' saugh or hazle.

Thou was a noble fittie-lan',2

As e'er in tug or tow was drawn!

Aft thee and I, in aught hours' gaun,
In guid March weather,

Hae turned sax rood beside our han'

For days thegither.

perhaps-race

wheeze

Thou never braindg't, and fetch't, and fliskit, raged-kicked
But thy auld tail thou wad hae whisket,

And spread abreed thy weel-filled brisket
Wi' pith and power,

Till spritty knowes wad rair't and risket,
And slypet owre.

1 A race at a marriage is called a broose,

2 The near horse of the hindmost pair in the plough.

breast

Till hillocks, where the earth was full of tough-rooted plants, would have given forth a

cracking sound, and the clods gently fallen over.'

"The tale of the Twa Dogs,' says Gilbert Burns, 'was composed after the resolution of publishing was nearly taken. Robert had a dog, which he called Luath, that was a great favourite. The dog had been killed by the wanton cruclty of some person the

1 Meaning all the four horses now working in my plough are thy progeny.

2 The eighth part of a bushel.