May claw his lug,1 and straik his beard, Forgive the bard! my fond regard TAM SAMSON'S ELEGY.* "No poet," says Cunningham, "ever emblazoned fact with fiction more happily than Burns: the hero of this poem was a respectable old nursery-seedsman in Kilmarnock greatly addicted to sporting, and one of the poet's earliest friends, who loved curling on the ice in winter, and shooting on the moors in the season. When no longer able to march over hill and hag in quest of 'Paitricks, terls, moor-pouts, and plivers,' he loved to lie on the lang settle, and listen to the deeds of others on field and flood; and when a good tale was told, he would cry, 'Hech, man! three at a shot; that was famous !' Some one having informed Tam, in his old age, that Burns had written a poem-'a gay queer ane'-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,' 'Go, Fame, and canter like a filly,' with which Tam was so much 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-stone in the churchyard of Kilmarnock.' " "An honest man's the noblest work of God."-POPE. HAS auld Kilmarnock seen the deil? Or great Mackinlay + thrawn his heel? Or Robinson again grown weel, To preach and read? "Na, waur than a' !" cries ilka chiel, 1 Ear. 3 Blockheads. 5 Flatter. 6 Twisted. * 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.-B. A certain preacher, a great favourite with the million. Vide "The Ordination," stanza lÎ.—B. Another preacher, an equal favourite with the few, who was at that time ailing. For him, see also "The Ordination,” stanza IX.-B. Kilmarnock lang may grunt and grane, To Death, she's dearly paid the kane 3. The brethren o' the mystic level May hing their head in waefu' bevel, Death's gien the lodge an unco devela— When Winter muffles up his cloak, He was the king o' a' the core, In time o' need; In vain the burns cam' down like waters, Now every auld wife, greetin', clatters, Owre mony a weary hag1 he limpit, Now he proclaims, wi' tout o' trumpet, When at his heart he felt the dagger, Wi' weel-aim'd heed; "Lord, five!" he cried, and owre did staggerTam Samson's dead! Ilk hoary hunter mourn'd a brother; Whare Burns has wrote, in rhyming blether, There low he lies, in lasting rest; Alas! nae mair he'll them molest! Tam Samson's dead! When August winds the heather wave, Till Echo answer frae her cave Tam Samson's dead! Heaven rest his saul, whare'er he be ! Ae social honest man want we- PER CONTRA. Go, Fame, and canter like a filly, To cease his grievin', For yet, unskaithed by Death's gleg gullie,1 A PRAYER, LEFT BY THE AUTHOR AT A REVEREND FRIEND'S HOUSE, IN THE ROOM WHERE HE SLEPT. "THE first time," says Gilbert Burns, "Robert heard the spinnet played upon was while on a visit at the house of Dr. Lawrie, then minister of the parish of Loudon, a few miles from Mossgiel, and with whom he was on terms of intimacy. Dr. Lawrie had several daughters-one of them played; the father and the mother led down the dance; the rest of the sisters, the brother, the poet, and the other guests mixed in it. It was a delightful family-scene for our poet, then lately introduced to the world. His mind was roused to a poetic enthusiasm, and the stanzas were left in the room where he slept." O THOU dread Power, who reign'st above! I know Thou wilt me hear, When for this scene of peace and love I make my prayer sincere. The hoary sire-the mortal stroke, To bless his filial little flock, And show what good men are. She, who her lovely offspring eyes Their hope their stay-their darling youth, In manhood's dawning blush Bless him, Thou GOD of love and truth, Up to a parent's wish! The beauteous seraph sister-band, With earnest tears I pray, Thou know'st the snares on every hand Guide Thou their steps alway! When soon or late they reach that coast, May they rejoice, no wanderer lost, 1 Sharp knife. * Killie is a phrase the country-folks Cometimes use for the name of a certain town in the west [Kilmarnock].-B. THE BRIGS OF AYR. INSCRIBED TO JOHN BALLANTYNE, ESQ., AYR. THE following was written while the new bridge across the Ayr was being built. His friend Mr. Ballantyne being at that time chief magistrate, the poem was very appropriately dedicated to him. THE simple bard, rough at the rustic plough, Hailing the setting sun, sweet, in the green-thorn bush ; Or deep-toned plovers, gray, wild-whistling o'er the hill: To hardy independence bravely bred, By early poverty to hardship steel'd, And train'd to arms in stern Misfortune's field— With all the venal soul of dedicating prose? 'Twas when the stacks get on their winter hap,1 1 Covering. 2 Thatch. 3 Heaps. 4 Smothered. |