FICKLE FORTUNE.1

THOUGH fickle Fortune has deceived me,
She promis'd fair and perform'd but ill;
Of mistress, friends, and wealth bereav'd me,
Yet I bear a heart shall support me still.

I'll act with prudence as far as I'm able,
But if success I must never find,

Then come misfortune, I bid thee welcome,
I'll meet thee with an undaunted mind.

RAGING FORTUNE.—FRAGMENT OF SONG.

O RAGING Fortune's withering blast
Has laid my leaf full low!
O raging Fortune's withering blast
Has laid my leaf full low!

My stem was fair, my bud was green,
My blossom sweet did blow;

1 Burns entered the lines in his " Commonplace Book," with these remarks:-"The above was an extempore, under the pressure of a heavy train of misfortunes, which indeed threatened to undo me altogether. It was just at the close of that dreadful period mentioned [when the prayer ‘O Thou great Being,' was composed,] and though the weather has brightened up a little with me, yet there has always been since, a tempest brewing round me in the grim sky' of futurity, which I pretty plainly see will some time or other-perhaps ere long-overwhelm me, and drive me into some doleful dell to pine in solitary, squalid wretchedness."

The first four lines of this piece appear also-with a variation in the third line-in the song, "I dream'd I lay" (p. 5).

The dew fell fresh, the sun rose mild,

And made

my branches

grow;

But luckless Fortune's northern storms

Laid a' my blossoms low!

But luckless Fortune's northern storms
Laid a' my blossoms low!

IMPROMPTU-I'LL GO AND BE A
SODGER.1

O WHY the deuce should I repine,
And be an ill foreboder?
I'm twenty-three, and five feet nine,
I'll go and be a sodger!

I gat some gear wi' mickle care,
I held it weel thegither;

But now it's gane, and something mair--
I'll go and be a sodger!

NO CHURCHMAN AM I.2

Tune-"Prepare, my dear Brethren."

No churchman am I for to rail and to write,
No statesman nor soldier to plot or to fight,
No sly man of business contriving a snare,
For a big-belly'd bottle's the whole of my care.

1 "Come, stubborn pride and unshrinking resolution!"-Burns wrote to a friend--"accompany me through this, to me, miserable world! Your friendship I think I can count on, though I should date my letters from a marching regiment. Early in life, and all my life, I reckoned on a recruiting drum as my forlorn hope."

2 Burns was admitted an apprentice Freemason in July, 1781, and was passed and raised on the 1st of October.

The peer I don't envy, I give him his bow; I scorn not the peasant, tho' ever so low; But a club of good fellows, like those that are here,

And a bottle like this, are my glory and care.

Here passes the squire on his brother-his horse;

There centum per centum, the cit with his purse;

But see you the Crown how it waves in the air?
There a big-belly'd bottle still eases my care.

The wife of my bosom, alas! she did die;
For sweet consolation to church I did fly;
I found that old Solomon provèd it fair,
That a big-belly'd bottle's a cure for all care.

I once was persuaded a venture to make;
A letter inform'd me that all was to wreck;
But the pursy old landlord just waddl'd up
stairs,

With a glorious bottle that ended my cares.

"Life's cares they are comforts "1. -a maxim laid down

By the Bard, what d'ye call him? that wore the black gown;

And faith I agree with th' old prig to a hair; For a big-belly'd bottle's a heav'n of a care.

A STANZA ADDED IN A MASON LODGE.

Then fill up a bumper and make it o'erflow,
And honours masonic prepare for to throw ;

1 Young's "Night Thoughts."--R. B.

May ev'ry true Brother of the Compass and

Square

Have a big-belly'd bottle when harass'd with

care.

BALLAD—MY FATHER WAS A
FARMER.1

Tune-" The weaver and his shuttle, O."

My father was a farmer upon the Carrick border,

And carefully he bred me in decency and

order;

He bade me act a manly part, though I had ne'er a farthing;

For without an honest manly heart, no man was worth regarding.

Then out into the world my course I did determine;

Tho' to be rich was not my wish, yet to be great was charming:

My talents they were not the worst, nor yet my education:

Resolv'd was I, at least to try, to mend my situation.

In many a way, and vain essay, I courted For

tune's favour;

Some cause unseen still stept between, to frustrate each endeavour;

1 The poet describes this piece as "a wild rhapsody, miserably deficient in versification, but as the sentiments are the genuine feelings of my heart, for that reason I have a particular pleasure in conning it

Sometimes by foes I was o'erpower'd, sometimes by friends forsaken;

And when my hope was at the top, I still was worst mistaken.

Then sore harass'd, and tir'd at last, with Fortune's vain delusion,

I dropt my schemes, like idle dreams, and came to this conclusion:

The past was bad, and the future hid, its good or ill untried;

But the present hour was in my pow'r, and so I would enjoy it.

No help, nor hope, nor view had I, nor person to befriend me;

So I must toil, and sweat, and moil, and labour to sustain me;

To plough and sow, to reap and mow, my father bred me early;

For one, he said, to labour bred, was a match for Fortune fairly.

Thus all obscure, unknown, and poor, thro' life I'm doom'd to wander,

Till down my weary bones I lay in everlasting slumber :

No view nor care, but shun whate'er might breed me pain or sorrow;

I live to-day as well's I may, regardless of to

morrow.

But cheerful still, I am as well as a monarch in his palace,

Tho' Fortune's frown still hunts me down, with all her wonted malice:

I make indeed my daily bread, but ne'er can make it farther: