POSTSCRIPT. Afton's Laird, Afton's Laird, When your pen can be spar'd, A copy o' this I bequeath, On the same sicker score To that trusty auld worthy Clackleith, To that trusty auld worthy Clackleith. CXI. PEG NICHOLSON. [These hasty verses are to be found in a letter addressed to Nicol of the High School of Edinburgh by the poet, giving him an account of the unlookedfor death of his mare, Peg Nicholson, the successor of Jenny Geddes. She had suffered both in the employ of the joyous priest and the thoughtless poet. She acquired her name from that frantic virago who attempted to murder George the Third.] PEG NICHOLSON was a good bay mare As ever trode on airn; But now she's floating down the Nith, And past the mouth o' Cairn. Peg Nicholson was a good bay mare, Peg Nicholson was a good bay mare, Peg Nicholson was a good bay mare, CXII. ON CAPT. MATTHEW HENDERSON, A GENTLEMAN WHO HELD THE PATENT FOR HIS HONOURS IMMEDIATELY FROM ALMIGHTY GOD. "Should the poor be flattered?" But now his radiant course is run, [Captain Matthew Henderson, a gentleman of very agreeable manners and great propriety of character, usually lived in Edinburgh, dined constantly at Fortune's Tavern, and was a member of the Capillaire Club, which was composed of all who desired to be thought witty or joyous: he died in 1789 Burns, in a note to the Poem, says, 66 I loved the man much, and have not flattered his memory." Henderson seems indeed to have been universally liked. In our travelling party," says Sir James Campbell, of Ardkinglass, "was Matthew Henderson, then (1759) and afterwards well known and much esteemed in the town of Edinburgh; at that time an officer in the twenty-fifth regiment of foot, and, like myself, on his way to join the army; and I may say with truth, that in the course of a long life I have never known a more estimable character, than Matthew Henderson."-Memoirs of Campbell, of Ardkinglass, p. 17.] O DEATH! thou tyrant fell and bloody! He's gane! he's gane! he's frae us torn, Where, haply, pity strays forlorn, Ye hills! near neebors o' the starns, That proudly cock your cresting cairns! Ye cliffs, the haunts of sailing yearns, Where echo slumbers! Come join, ye Nature's sturdiest bairns, My wailing numbers! Mourn, ilka grove the cushat kens! Or foaming strang, wi' hasty stens. Mourn, little harebells o'er the lea; Ye roses on your thorny tree, The first o' flow'rs. At dawn, when ev'ry grassy blade Droops with a diamond at its head, Mourn, clam'ring craiks at close o' day, Ye houlets, frae your ivy bow'r, Wail thro' the dreary midnight hour O rivers, forests, hills, and plains! Mourn, spring, thou darling of the year! Thy gay, green, flow'ry tresses shear Thou, autumn, wi' thy yellow hair, The roaring blast, Wide o'er the naked world declare The worth we've lost! Mourn him, thou sun, great source of light! For through your orbs he's ta'en his flight, O, Henderson! the man--the brother! And art thou gone, and gone for ever? And hast thou crost that unknown river, Life's dreary bound? Like thee, where shall I find another, The world around? Go to your sculptur'd tombs, ye great, Thou man of worth! THE EPITAPH. Stop, passenger!-my story's brief, And truth I shall relate, man; I tell nae common tale o' grief— For Matthew was a great man. If thou uncommon merit hast, Yet spurn'd at fortune's door, man, A look of pity hither cast- If thou a noble sodger art, That passest by this grave, man, There moulders here a gallant heartFor Matthew was a brave man. If thou on men, their works and ways, Canst throw uncommon light, man, Here lies wha weel had won thy praiseFor Matthew was a bright man. If thou at friendship's sacred ca' Wad life itself resign, man, Thy sympathetic tear maun fa'For Matthew was a kind man! If thou art staunch without a stain, Like the unchanging blue, man, This was a kinsman o' thy ain— For Matthew was a true man. If thou hast wit, and fun, and fire, And ne'er guid wine did fear, man, This was thy billie, dam, and sireFor Matthew was a queer man. If ony whiggish whingin sot, To blame poor Matthew dare, man, May dool and sorrow be his lot! For Matthew was a rare man. CXIII. THE FIVE CARLINS. A SCOTS BALLAD. Tune-Chevy Chase. [This is a local and a political Poem, composed on the contest between Miller, the younger, of Dalswinton, and Johnstone of Westerhall, for the representation of the Dumfries and Galloway district of Boroughs. Each town or borough speaks and acts in character: Maggy personates Dumfries; Marjory, Lochmaben; Bess of Solway-side, Annan; Whisky Jean, Kirkcudbright; and Black Joan, Sanquhar. On the part of Miller, all the Whig interest of the Duke of Queensberry was exerted, and all the Tory interest on the side of Johnstone: the poet's heart was with the latter. Annan and Lochmaben stood staunch by old names and old affections: after a contest, bitterer than anything of the kind remembered, the Whig interest prevailed.] THERE were five carlins in the south, They fell upon a scheme, To send a lad to London town, Not only bring them tidings hame, There was Maggy by the banks o' Nith, And blinkin' Bess of Annandale, That dwelt near Solway-side; And whisky Jean, that took her gill In Galloway sae wide. And black Joan, frae Crighton-peel, To send a lad to London town, O mony a knight, and mony a laird, This errand fain wad gae; But nae ane could their fancy please, O ne'er a ane but twae. VOL. II. The first ane was a belted knight, Bred of a border band; And he wad gae to London town, Might nae man him withstand. And he wad do their errands weel, The neist cam in a sodger youth, And spak wi' modest grace, And he wad gae to London town, If sae their pleasure was. He wad na hecht them courtly gifts, But he wad hecht an honest heart Then wham to chuse, and wham refuse, For some had gentlefolks to please, Then out spak mim-mou'd Meg o' Nith, For the auld gudeman o' London court But she wad send the sodger youth Then slow raise Marjory o' the Lochs, "The London court set light by meI set as light by them; And I will send the sodger lad To shaw that court the same." Then up sprang Bess of Annandale, "For far-off fowls hae feathers fair, Then whisky Jean spak o'er her drink, P "And mony a friend that kiss'd his caup, Is now a fremit wight; But it's ne'er be sae wi' whisky Jean,We'll send the border-knight." Says black Joan o' Crighton-peel, A carlin stoor and grim,— "The auld gudeman, or the young gudeman, For me may sink or swim. "For fools will prate o' right and wrang, While knaves laugh in their sleeve; But wha blaws best the horn shall win, I'll speir nae courtier's leave." So how this mighty plea may end CXIV. THE LADDIES BY THE BANKS O' NITH. [This short Poem was first published by Robert Chambers. It intimates pretty strongly how much the poet disapproved of the change which came over the Duke of Queensberry's opinions, when he supported the right of the Prince of Wales to assume the government, without consent of Parliament, during the king's alarming illness in 1788.] THE laddies by the banks o' Nith, Up and waur them a', Jamie, The Johnstones hae the guidin' o't, The day he stude his country's friend, But wha is he, his country's boast? Like him there is na twa, Jamie; There's no a callant tents the kye, But kens o' Westerha', Jamie. To end the wark here's Whistlebirk,' Lang may his whistle blaw, Jamie; And Maxwell true o' sterling blue: And we'll be Johnstones a', Jamie. CXV. EPISTLE TO ROBERT GRAHAM, ESQ., OF FINTRY: ON THE CLOSE OF THE DISPUTED ELECTION BETWEEN SIR JAMES JOHNSTONE AND CAPTAIN MILLER, FOR THE DUMFRIES D STRICT OF BOROUGHS. ["I am too little a man," said Burns, in the note to Fintry, which accompanied this Poem, "to have any political attachment: I am deeply indebted to and have the warmest veneration for individuals of both parties: but a man who has it in his power to be the father of a country, and who acts like his Grace of Queensberry, is a character that one cannot speak of with patience." This Epistle was first printed in my edition of Burns in 1834: I had the use of the Macmurdo and the Afton manuscripts for that purpose: to both families the poet was much indebted for many acts of courtesy and kindness.] FINTRY, my stay in worldly strife, And ye shall see me try him. I'll sing the zeal Drumlanrig bears, Of princes and their darlings; Combustion thro' our boroughs rode But cautious Queensberry left the war, Or Ciceronian pleading. (1) Birkwhistle: a Galloway laird, and elector. O! for a throat like huge Mons-meg, To muster o'er each ardent Whig Beneath Drumlanrig's banner; Heroes and heroines commix, All in the field of politics, To win immortal honour. M'Murdo1 and his lovely spouse, Craigdarroch led a light-arm'd corps, Like Hecla streaming thunder: And bar'd the treason under. In either wing two champions fought, The wildest savage Tory; And Welsh, who ne'er yet flinch'd his ground, Miller brought up th' artillery ranks, While Maxwelton, that baron bold, And threaten'd worse damnation. To these what Tory hosts oppos'd, What verse can sing, what prose narrate, And hell mix'd in the brulzie. The stubborn Tories dare to die; Before th' approaching fellers: Against the Buchan Bullers. Lo, from the shades of Death's deep night, And think on former daring: All deadly gules its bearing. Nor wanting ghosts of Tory fame, Bold Scrimgeours follows gallant Graham,' Auld Covenanters shiver. (Forgive, forgive, much wrong'd Montrose! Now death and hell engulph thy foes, Thou liv'st on high for ever!) |