EPISTLE TO JOHN GOLDIE To tell the truth, they seldom fash'da him, Tho' e'er sae short, Tho' he was bred to kintra-wark, And counted was baith wight and stark, Yet that was never Robin's mark To mak a man ; But tell him, he was learn'd and clark, Epistle to John Goldie, in Kilmarnock.1 AUTHOR OF THE GOSPEL RECOVERED. AUGUST 1785. O GOWDIE, terror o' the whigs, Girns an' looks back, Wishing the ten Egyptian plagues May seize you quick. Poor gapin, glowrin Superstition ! Wae's me, she's in a sad condition : Fye: bring Black Jock, her state physician, To see her water: Alas, there's ground for great suspicion She'll ne'er get better. • troubled. b stout and strong. 1 This amateur philosopher and professional wine-merchant published his lucubrations in 1780. His home was among "the cowls of Kilmarnock." The poem displays a facetious belief that intoxication partakes of the nature of virtue, but that was the pious opinion of the period. The text is from the Glenriddell MS., c scholar. d praised. and differs in some places from Stewart and Meikle's (1799), which has only five verses, and transposes the third and fourth. The last two verses were published by Cromek as a separate fragment. 2 The Rev. J. Russell, Kilmarnock. -R. B. Enthusiasm's past redemption, Can ever mend her; Her feeble pulse gies strong presumption, She'll soon surrender. Auld Orthodoxy lang did grapple, It's you an' Taylor are the chief A toomd tar barrel An' twa red peats wad bring relief, For me, my skill's but very sma', E'en swinge the dogs, and thresh them sickers ! The mair they squeel aye chaph the thicker; And still 'mang hands a hearty bickeri O' something stout; It gars an owthor's pulse beat quicker, And helps his wit. c throat. 8 soundly. • cleverness. b stopper. • quietly. ↑ trouble. d empty. I wooden cup. j author. Mr Russell's Kirk.-R. B. 2 Dr Taylor of Norwich.-R. B. THE HOLY FAIR There's naething like the honest nappy; 'Tween morn and morn, As them wha like to taste the drappie, I've seen me dazed upon a time, Ought less is little Then back I rattle on the rhyme, The Holy Fair.1 A robe of seeming truth and trust And secret hung, with poison'd crust, The dirk of defamation: A mask that like the gorget show'd, He wrapt him in Religion. HYPOCRISY A-LA-MODE. UPON a simmer Sunday morn, I walked forth to view the corn, • ale. An' snuff the caller air. d half-pint. b buxom. • keen as a knife. 1 "Holy Fair" is a common phrase in the west of Scotland for a sacramental occasion.-R. B. Smith, of the "Cauld Harangues" (stanza 14), was an ancestor of Mr Robert Louis Stevenson. As Lockhart justly observes, Burns, in another mood, could have given a solemn picture of a very solemn occasion. These Holy Fairs arose in the Cromwellian occupation of Scotland, among the Protesters or Remonstrants, the extreme Left of the Covenanters. "A mighty multitude of devout men assemble for the wor the least bit. fresh. ship of God, beneath the open heaven, and above the graves of their fathers," Burns had little or nothing of the old leaven of the Covenant: he descended, intellectually, from the populace whom Knox deprived of their Robin Hood Games and Sunday Golf. Heron, following, perhaps, the "Letter of a Blacksmith" (1759), detected an element of "old Popish festivals" in the mingled religion and frolic of Holy Fairs. The Kirk had taken the mirth out of Scotland, tamen usque recurret, in the most incongruous of The rising sun owre Galston muirs Fu' sweet that day. As lightsomely I glowr'd abroad, Three hizzies, early at the road, Twa had manteeles o' dolefu' black, But ane wi' lyarte lining; The third, that gaed a wee a-back, Was in the fashion shining f Fu' gay that day. The twa appear'd like sisters twin, Their visage wither'd, lang an' thin, The third cam up, hap-stap-an'-lowp, As light as ony lambie, An' wi' a curchie low did stoop, As soon as e'er she saw me, Fu' kind that day. Wi' bonnet aff, quoth I, "Sweet lass, I think ye seem to ken me; • hopping. b furrows. ⚫ grey. all occasions. As Mr Scott Douglas • wenches. earlier than that in which Burns first The text is that of the Kilmarnock edition, 1786. An early MS., now in the British Museum, gives a large number of different readings, in which the printed copy always shows a distinct improvement. Some are noted in their proper places. THE HOLY FAIR Quo' she, an' laughin as she spak, Of a' the ten comman's A screed some day." "My name is Fun-your cronie dear, The nearest friend ye hae; An' this is Superstition here, An' that's Hypocrisy. I'm gaun to Mauchline 'holy fair,' To spend an hour in daffino: Gin ye'll go there, yon runkl'dd pair, We will get famous laughin At them this day." Quoth I, "Wi' a' my heart, I'll do't; In droves that day. Here farmers gash, in ridin graith, Gaed hoddin by their cotters; There swankies1 young, in braw braid-claith, Are springing owre the gutters. The lasses, skelpind barefit, thrang, In silks an' scarlets glitter; Wi' sweet-milk cheese, in mony a whang, An' farls,1 bak'd wi' butter, Fu' crump that day. • merry-making. • majority, b tear. breakfast-time. f sage. 8 attire. 1 strapping fellows. I walking smartly. * slice. 1 "Qothie 'I'll get my tither coat, And on my Sunday's sark, d wrinkled. h riding heavily. 1 cakes. An' meet ye in the yard without, At op'ning o' the wark.''" (MS). |