by Robert Burns
A Red, Red Rose
Tune: Major Graham
First printed in Urbani’s selection of Scots Songs, Edinburgh, 1794.
O my Luve ’s like a red, red rose,
That ’s newly sprung in June;
O my Luve ’s like the melodie
That ’s sweetly play’d in tune. —
5 As fair art thou, my bonie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my Dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry. — go
Till a’ the seas gang dry, my Dear, go
10 And the rocks melt wi’ the sun:
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run. —
And fare thee weel, my only Luve! well
And fare thee weel, a while!
15 And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho’ it were ten thousand mile!
This exquisite love song epitomises a central dilemma with the poet’s song output. Almost all of the phrases and images employed here have been traced to various traditional songs. For example, these old words are given in Kinsley:
Her cheeks are like the Roses
That blossom fresh in June,
O, she’s like a new-strung instrument
That’s newly put in tune;
/… Altho’ I go a thousand miles
I vow thy face to see,
Altho’ I go ten thousand miles
I’ll come again to thee, dear Love,
I’ll come again to thee …
The Day shall turn to Night, dear Love,
And the Rocks melt wi’ the Sun,
Before that I prove false to thee. (Vol. III, pp. 1454–5.)
Since frequently the seam cannot be detected between folk-song and Burns’s verse, there exists an insoluble critical problem as to original compositon. With regard to this poem, Kinsley oddly remarks that: ‘We may, however, be doing an injustice to oral tradition in regarding [this] even as a reconstruction by Burns.’ Burns himself would be the last person to deny that, if his lyrics were golden, it was because of the quality of the traditional ore. On the other hand, he rightly feared the parochial, sentimental verse which would be written in his name.
Sonnet: On the Death of Robert Riddell Esq. of
Glenriddell,
April 1794
This first appears in The Dumfries Journal, 22nd April, 1794.
No more, ye warblers of the wood, no more,
Nor pour your descant grating on my soul!
Thou young-eyed Spring, gay in thy verdant stole,
More welcome were to me grim Winter’s wildest roar.
5 How can ye charm, ye flowers, with all your dyes?
Ye blow upon the sod that wraps my friend:
How can I to the tuneful strain attend?
That strain flows round th’ untimely tomb where Riddell lies.
Yes, pour, ye warblers, pour the notes of woe,
10 And sooth the Virtues weeping o’er his bier.
The Man of Worth — and ‘as not left his peer —1
Is in his ‘narrow house’ for ever darkly low.2
Thee, Spring, again with joy shall others greet,
Me, mem’ry of my loss will only meet.
Robert Riddell (1755–94), died on 20th April, 1794, aged 39 years. The sonnet which appeared under the poet’s name in The Dumfries Journal was also sent to the London Star, and printed on 30th April, then subsequently copied by the Morning Chronicle, 5th May, and in the May issue of The Gentleman’s Magazine. The newspaper obituary on Riddell is also thought to be by Burns, although it has never been formally credited. Burns commented on Robert Riddell of Glenriddell, who lived at Friars Carse, near Ellisland farm, that ‘At their fire-side I have enjoyed more pleasant evenings than at all the houses of fashionable people in this country put together … many of the happiest hours of my life’ (Cromek, p. 269, from the I.S.M.M). He is, therefore, a crucial, but still not fully-known player in the Burns story.
Kinsley omits the most important factor about Riddell, that he was a leading radical Whig, known throughout Britain (Vol. III, p. 1274). As we have seen, he wrote the pro-reform essay printed under the pen-name ‘Cato’ which Burns posted to The Edinburgh Gazetteer (Letter 530). Several of his essays feature in The Glasgow Journal; they fiercely debate with Edmund Burke the question of imported manufactures and the India question relating to the trial of Warren Hastings. Riddell was thus a key radical Whig of the period (See our notes to On Glenriddell’s Fox Breaking its Chain). Professor Werkmeister cogently remarks that Burns’s allowing his name to be associated with Riddell was: ‘… a courageous resolve, for, since Riddell was no friend of Government, a “tribute” to him had to be regarded as political and hence publishable only in an Opposition newspaper’ (Robert Burns and the London Daily Press, Modern Philology, LXIII, 1966, p. 326).
The sonnet sets a deliberate parallel between Burns and Riddell and the profound loss felt by Milton when his friend Edward King was drowned, as lamented in Lycidas, hence the quote (l. 11).
1 Adapted from Milton’s Lycidas.
2 Gray’s Elegy, ‘… in his narrow cell for ever laid’.
Wilt Thou Be My Dearie?
Tune: The Sutor’s Dochter
First printed in The Morning Chronicle, 10th May, 1794.
Wilt thou be my dearie?
When Sorrow wrings thy gentle heart,
O, wilt thou let me cheer thee?
By the treasure of my soul —
5 That’s the love I bear thee —
I swear and vow that only thou
Shall ever be my dearie!
Only thou, I swear and vow,
Shall ever be my dearie!
10 Lassie, say thou lo’es me, loves
Or, if thou wilt na be my ain, will not, own
Say na thou’lt refuse me! not
If it winna, canna be, will not, cannot
Thou for thine may choose me,
15 Let me, lassie, quickly die,
Trusting that thou lo’es me!
Lassie, let me quickly die,
Trusting that thou lo’es me!
This appears first in the London Whig Opposition paper The Morning Chronicle, two days after the unsigned publication of Scots Wha Hae. It was signed as the work of Burns. It is not a controversial work, so there was no problem about his name being printed. Most editors assume the heroine of the song is Janet Miller, daughter of the poet’s former landlord at Ellisland, Patrick Miller of Dalswinton. This is not known for certain. Both Kinsley and Mackay err in their notes to this work by going on to assert that Patrick Miller offered Burns a job with The Morning Chronicle in April 1794, when in fact it is known that the offer of removal for full time journalistic work in London was rejected by Burns in mid-March, 1794. Miller merely conveyed the offer from James Perry, the paper’s editor.
O Wat Ye Wha’s in Yon Town
Tune: We’ll Gang Nae Mair to Yon Town
First printed in The Glasgow Magazine, September 1795.
NOW haply down yon gay green shaw wood
She wanders by yon spreading tree;
How blest ye flow’rs that round her blaw, blow
Ye catch the glances o’ her ee. eye
Chorus
5 O wat ye wha’s in yon town, know, who’s
Ye see the e’enin Sun upon, evening
The dearest maid’s in yon town,
That e’enin Sun is shining on.
How blest ye birds that round her sing,
10 And welcome in the blooming year,
And doubly welcome be the Spring,
The season to my Jeanie dear.
O wat ye wha’s &c.
The sun blinks blyth on yon town,
Amang the broomy braes sae green; among, hill slopes so
15 But my delight in yon town,
And dearest pleasure, is my Jean.
O wat ye wha’s &c.
Without my Fair, not a’ the
charms
O’ Paradise could yield me joy;
But gie me Jeanie in my arms, give
20 And welcome Lapland’s dreary sky.
O wat ye wha’s &c.
My cave wad be a lover’s bow’r, would
Tho’ raging Winter rent the air; rend
And she a lovely little flower,
That I wad tent and shelter there. would tend
O wat ye wha’s &c.
25 O sweet is she in yon town,
The sinkin Sun’s gane down upon: gone
A fairer than’s in yon town
His setting beam ne’er shone upon.
O wat ye wha’s &c.
If angry Fate is sworn my foe,
30 And suff’ring I am doom’d to bear;
I careless quit aught else below, ought
But spare me, spare me Jeanie dear.
O wat ye wha’s &c.
For while life’s dearest blood runs warm,
Ae thought frae her shall ne’er depart, one, from
35 And she — as fairest is her form,
She has the truest, kindest heart.
O wat ye wha’s &c.
Burns started this work when snow-bound in the village of Ecclefechan on the evening of 7th February, 1795. It was finished and sent to Thomson in April (Letter 661). It is a modification of the poet’s own song I’ll Ay Ca’ in by Yon Town which had been sent to Johnson.
The Dumfries Volunteers
Tune: Push About the Jorum
First published in The Edinburgh Courant, 4th May, 1795.
Does haughty Gaul invasion threat,
Then let the loons beware, Sir! fools
There’s WOODEN WALLS upon our seas
And VOLUNTEERS on shore, Sir:
5 The Nith shall run to Corsincon1,
And Criffel sink in Solway2,
Ere we permit a Foreign Foe
On British ground to rally!
O let us not, like snarling curs, dogs
10 In wrangling be divided,
Till, slap! come in an unco loun, strange fool
And wi’ a rung decide it! cudgel
Be BRITAIN still to BRITAIN true,
Amang oursels united: among ourselves
15 For never but by British hands
Maun British wrangs be righted. shall, wrongs
The kettle o’ the Kirk and State,
Perhaps a clout may fail in’t; patch
But Deil a foreign tinkler loon
20 Shall ever ca’ a nail in’t. hammer
Our FATHERS’ BLUDE the kettle bought, blood
And wha wad dare to spoil it, who would
By Heav’ns! the sacrilegious dog
Shall fuel be to boil it!
25 The wretch that would a Tyrant own,
And the wretch, his true-sworn brother,
Who would set the Mob above the Throne,
May they be damn’d together!
Who will not sing God Save The KING
30 Shall hang as high ’s the steeple;
But while we sing God Save The KING,
We’ll ne’er forget THE PEOPLE!
After publication in The Edinburgh Evening Courant on 4th May 1795 this song appeared in The Dumfries Journal on 5th May, The Caledonian Mercury on 7th May and was copied in The Northern Star, Belfast, 29th October–2nd November 1795 issue. It was printed by Currie in 1800 and features in S.M.M., no. 546, 1803.
A first draught, which has not survived and was probably destroyed, contained a satirical attack on a ‘ci-devant Commodore’ which the poet later omitted. The reason Burns dropped the satirical lines is explained to Mrs Dunlop: ‘Miss Keith will see that I have omitted the four lines on the ci-devant Commodore which gave her so much offence. Had I known that he stood in no less connection than the Godfather of my lovely young Friend, I would have spared him for her sake’ (Robert Burns and Mrs Dunlop, edited by W. Wallace, London, 1898, p. 419). The fact that this song originally contained a satirical attack on a high ranking military officer is missed by previous editors who distort the song into a statement of the poet’s loyalty to the Pitt government and hence, a cessation of his radical values. This is far from the case. Indeed, the message of the song is unequivocally in support of reform, that is, placing the practice of politics back on a footing according to the principles of the Constitution, a sentiment clearly echoed in the lines:
Be Britain still to Britain true,
Amang oursels united!
For never but by British hands
Maun British wrangs be righted!
A cleverly balanced criticism of the Pitt government hints that there are indeed problems that should be addressed and resolved. Extremes are exposed as no solution in themselves – the ‘tyrant’ and ‘mob’ – echoes his earlier line, ‘Be Anarchy cursed and Tyranny damned’. It would be naïve to read the reference to singing ‘God Save the King’ as a statement of loyalism, given that it is Burns, as he does on many occasions, giving ironic assent to what he is actually attacking and preparing the song to end on a final and loudly emphasised phrase ‘We’ll ne’er forget THE PEOPLE!’ The appearance of ‘loyalty’ is, in reality, a sleight of hand that refers more to an abstract loyalism to the higher ideal of reforming politics and placing into practice the ideals of the British constitution. By early 1795 the radical French leader Marat had been assassinated and the French Revolution had strayed far from its original ideals and was at this time in the hands of an oligarchy hell-bent on Empire building and the reactionary imperial cult of the young officer, Napoleon Bonaparte. It is therefore no contradiction and entirely consistent with the radical views of Burns that he would oppose a French invasion of Britain, given that their revolution had metamorphosed to being a tyrannical power. Hence, Burns could oppose a French invasion but at the same time still agree with the original principles of the French Revolution. Moreover, this song allowed him the breathing space of appearing to be a loyal subject, but one who actually opposed the political leadership of Pitt and Dundas. As he remarked to Mrs Dunlop in mid-January 1795, he looked forward to the day when a person might be able to criticise ‘Billy Pitt’ without being judged an enemy (all reformers were branded Jacobins at this time) of his country.
Given Burn’s expurgation of the poem’s specific satirical target combined with an understandably, fear-induced political tracks-disguising over-subtlety, Burns’s legion of conservative enemies, from the outset, seized upon this poem as absolute, final evidence, despite the overwhelming mass of his politically contrary poetry, of his loyal, wholly anti-revolutionary, pro-Hanoverian stance. Fearfully living throughout the nineteenth century in the shadow of the French Revolution, almost all institutionalized, published Burns criticism followed this line. The radical Burns of the Chartist Movement and subsequent proto-socialism existed at a working class, oral level. (See William Power, ‘The Song of Friendship’, in Robert Burns and Other Essays and Sketches (London & Glasgow, 1926, p. 48). In the economically fraught, politically turbulent Scotland of the aftermath of the First World War, this political division became more extreme. Burns was, albeit simplistically, the poet-prophet of Red Clydeside and the ILP. The opposing bourgeois populism of the Burns Federation was of a decidedly reactionary, pro-Unionist order. Hence, for example, Duncan McNaught’s account of Burns’s politics as expressed in The Dumfries Volunteers in B.C. (No. 34, 1925), pp. 61–5:
From the way in which Burns is quoted on political platforms and by the huge army of open-air preachers of social reform, one can only conclude that the intention of the orators is to represent Burns as the outstanding extremist of his generation. In some of his earlier poems, as, for instance ‘Epistle to Davie’, the case for Labour is put in the strongest of lights, and enforced with much the same arguments as the Socialist of today has rendered us so familiar with; but the whole volume of his poetry and prose will be searched in vain for a single line that expresses the slightest sympathy with the doctrines of the Bolshevism, Communism, and Socialism w
hich are now so loudly proclaimed from the housetops. Burns’s philosophy was on a higher plane; his opinions were founded on the axioms of political ethics which apply to all parties alike, and which have been subscribed to by all sensible men who have thought seriously on the subject. A short compendium of his political creed, written the year before his death, will be found in ‘Does Haughty Gaul’, a composition which effectually disposes of the mythical tradition that he was a disloyal subject and a Revolutionist.
Sadly, however, misinterpretation was not exlusively the prerogative of wilful reactionaries. The publication of The Dumfries Volunteers led to a back-lash against Burns by his erstwhile Ulster supporters who saw it as an act of apostasy akin, as Liam McIlvanney has pertinently pointed out (‘Robert Burns and the Ulster-Scots Literary Revival of the 1790s’, Bullán: An Irish Studies Journal, Vol. IV, No. 2, pp. 124–44), to the betrayal that the younger English radicals felt for Wordsworth. This led to the publication of this Song in the republican Northern Star (29 October–2 November, 1795):
O Scotia’s Bard! my muse alas!
For you in private blushes!
You’ve dipt i’ th’ dish wi’ slee D [unda]s
An’ prie’d the Loaves and Fishes!
When bare-foot owre the Ayr-shire hills,
A rustic ye ran chanting,
Ye wadna took a score o’ gills
To hae deav’d us wi’ sic ranting.
The kettle o’ your kirk and state
For which your dads contended,
Has been sae ding’d and spoil’d of late,