CHIEFLY IN THE

SCOTTISH DIALECT,

BY

ROBERT BURNS.

“ར་་ནར་ར༈ ་

THE Simple Bard, unbroke by rules of Art,

He pours the wild effusions of the heart:

And if inspir'd, 'tis Nature's pow'rs inspire;

Her's all the melting thrill, and her's the kindling fire.

THE POET'S PREFACE (1786.)

[Burns, in the course of his authorship, committed himself to only one prose Preface, and one prose Dedication. The latter will be found at page 135, Vol. I. It has been described by a voluminous critic and professed eulogist of the poet, as "a more ambitious performance than the original Kilmarnock Preface; conceived in an entirely different style, and expressed with studied emphasis and formality." He farther says, that "one can hardly help surmising that the author had some slight misgivings as to the genuineness, or at least the dignity of that dedication to his patrons in the metropolis." Now, we must own that, in common with the vulgar herd of Burns' admirers, we had always reckoned this Dedication to the Caledonian Hunt as next to perfection itself, both in style of composition and in dignity of sentiment. We must learn, therefore, to be less rash in being pleased for the future.

Burns, we are bound to confess, pleases us still better in his versified dedications: he has two of them,-that to Gavin Hamilton, at page 98 (0, how rich it is!) and that other, contained in the opening twenty-four lines of The Brigs of Ayr.-page 143,-which certainly beats his prose hollow. His Preface (here subjoined) is no mean production, although he did withdraw it in favour of the prose dedication; and it has barely got justice from the poet's editors, from Currie down to (but excluding) Waddell, who alone has printed it correctlyalways, of course, excepting ourselves; for our fac-simile reprint was produced in 1867. A copy of the Kilmarnock edition was so rare, even at the time of the poet's death, that Dr. Currie could not procure one to print the preface from, so he applied to Gilbert Burns for a copy of the preface, which, in transcribing, Gilbert ventured to amend, but did it no good, except correcting the spelling of the Greek poet's name, Theocritus. In the second sentence, he unnecessarily introduced before the words, "in their original languages,' the expression "at least," and dropped the plural s in "languages," to the detriment of the poet's grammar. In the closing paragraph, the author uses the expression," he is indebted to Benevolence," and this was apparently deemed wanting in dignity, for it was altered thus-" he owes to Benevolence!" In the third paragraph of the preface, we are reminded of Sir Walter Scott's observation that, "having twenty times the abilities of Allan Ramsay and of Fergusson, he talked of them with too much humility as his models."]

THE following trifles are not the production of the Poet, who, with all the advantages of learned art, and perhaps amid the elegancies and idlenesses of upper life, looks down for a rural theme, with an eye to Theocrites or Virgil. To the Author of this, these and other celebrated names their countrymen are, in their original languages, 'A fountain shut up, and a 'book sealed.' Unacquainted with the necessary requisites for commencing Poet by rule, he sings the sentiments and manners, he felt and saw in himself and his rustic compeers around him, in his and their native language. Though a Rhymer from his earliest years, at least from the earliest impulses of the softer passions, it was not till very lately, that the applause, perhaps the partiality, of Friendship, wakened his vanity so far as to make him think any thing of his was worth showing; and none of the following works were ever composed with a view to the press. To amuse himself with the little creations of his own fancy, amid the toil and fatigues of a laborious life; to transcribe the various feelings, the loves, the griefs, the hopes, the fears, in his own breast; to find some kind of counterpoise to the struggles of a world, always an alien scene, a task uncouth to the poetical mind; these were his motives for courting the Muses, and in these he found Poetry to be it's own reward.

Now that he appears in the public character of an Author, he does it with fear and trembling. So dear is fame to the rhyming tribe, that even he, an obscure, nameless Bard, shrinks aghast, at the thought of being branded as

'An impertinent blockhead, obtruding his nonsense on the world; and because he can make a shift to jingle a few doggerel, Scotch rhymes together, looks upon himself as a Poet of no small consequence forsooth.'

It is an observation of that celebrated Poet, * whose divine Elegies do honor to our language, our nation, and our species, that Humility has depressed many a genius to a hermit, but never raised one to fame.' If any Critic catches at the word genius, the Author tells him, once for all, that he certainly looks upon himself as possest of some poetic abilities, otherwise his publishing in the manner he has done, would be a manoeuvre below the worst character, which, he hopes, his worst enemy will ever give him: but to the genius of a Ramsay, or the glorious dawnings of the poor, unfortunate Ferguson, he, with equal un affected sincerity, declares, that, even in his highest pulse of vanity, he has not the most distant pretensions. These two justly admired Scotch Poets he has often had in his eye in the following pieces; but rather with a view to kindle at their flame, than for servile imitation.

To his Subscribers, the Author returns his most sincere thanks. Not the mercenary bow over a counter, but the heart-throbbing gratitute of the Bard, conscious how much he is indebted to Benevolence and Friendship, for gratifying him, if he deserves it, in that dearest wish of every poetic bosom― to be distinguished. He begs his readers, particularly the Learned and the Polite, who may honor him with a perusal, that they will make every allowance for Education and Circumstances of Life: but, if after a fair, candid, and impartial criticism, he shall stand convicted of Dulness and Nonsense, let him be done by, as he would in that case do by others-let him be condemned, without mercy, to contempt and oblivion.

*Shenstone.