by Robert Burns
WHERE are the joys I hae met in the morning, have
That danc’d to the lark’s early sang? song
Where is the peace that awaited my wandering,
At evening the wild-woods amang? among
5 Nae mair a winding the course o’ yon river, no more
And marking sweet flowerets sae fair, so
Nae mair I trace the light footsteps o’ Pleasure, no more
But Sorrow and sad-sighing Care. —
Is it that Summer’s forsaken our vallies,
10 And grim, surly Winter is near?
No, no! the bees humming round the gay roses
Proclaim it the pride o’ the year. —
Fain wad I hide, what I fear to discover, would
Yet lang, lang, too well hae I known: long, have
15 A’ that has causè d the wreck in my bosom
Is Jenny, fair Jenny alone. —
Time cannot aid me, my griefs are immortal,
Not Hope dare a comfort bestow:
Come then, enamor’d and fond of my anguish,
20 Enjoyment I’ll seek in my woe. —
As is often the case, Mackay remarks verbatim from Kinsley on this song: ‘Probably the song sent to Janet Miller of Dalswinton, elder daughter of Burns’s former landlord, on 9th September, 1793’. Burns wrote to her, ‘I have formed in my fancy a little love story for you’ (Letter 585).
On a Noted Coxcomb
Capt. Wm. Roddick Of Corbiston
First printed in The Wanderer, Glasgow, 1818.
Light lay the earth on Billie’s breast,
His chicken heart’s so tender;
But build a castle on his head —
His scull will prop it under. –
This was sent (Letter 590) to Marion Riddell. Kinsley (p. 1446) acutely points out it is a parody of Henry Mackenzie’s The Man of Feeling, ch. xx. The reactionary Henderson and Henley typically denounce this piece: ‘the rubbish is also inscribed in The Glenriddell Book’ (Notes, Vol. II, p. 456).
Thine am I, My Chloris Fair
Tune: The Quaker’s Wife.
First printed in Thomson, 1799.
Thine am I, my Chloris fair,
Well thou may’st discover;
Every pulse along my veins,
Tells the ardent Lover.
5 To thy bosom lay my heart,
There to throb and languish:
Tho’ Despair had wrung its core,
That would heal its anguish.
Take away those rosy lips,
10 Rich with balmy treasure:
Turn away thine eyes of love,
Lest I die with pleasure!
What is Life when wanting Love?
Night without a morning:
15 Love’s the cloudless summer sun,
Nature gay adorning.
A variant of the above song exists referring to Nancy McLehose rather than Chloris (Jean Lorimer). The heroine was changed in the Autumn of 1794. Kinsley gives the final version as above but Mackay opts for the earlier, ignoring the general editorial rule of printing the last version (p. 505).
To Captain Gordon
On being Asked Why I was not to be of the Party
With him and his Brother Kenmure at Syme’s
First printed in Barke, 1958.
DOST ask, dear Captain, why from Syme
I have no invitation,
When well he knows he has with him
My first friends in the nation?
5 Is it because I love to toast,
And round the bottle hurl?
No! there conjecture wild is lost,
For Syme by God’s no churl! —
Is ’t lest with bawdy jests I bore,
10 As oft the matter of fact is?
No! Syme the theory can’t abhor —
Who loves so well the practice. —
Is it a fear I should avow
Some heresy seditious?
15 No! Syme (but this entre nous)
Is quite an old Tiresias. —
In vain Conjecture would thus flit
Thro mental clime and season:
In short, dear Captain, Syme’s a Wit —
20 Who asks of Wits a reason? —
Yet must I still the sort deplore
That to my griefs adds one more,
In baulking me the social hour
With you and the noble Kenmure. —
Captain Adam Gordon, of Kenmure Castle near New Galloway (now in ruins), was the son of John Gordon, whom Burns visited during his tour of Galloway in July 1793. There is a mixture of friendly wit and some indignation with Syme brought out in the poem’s clever question-and-answer pattern regarding Syme’s drinking, bawdry and politics. Was he a prophet of the coming political catastrophe? Certainly there were tensions between him and Burns. In his 1815 introduction to the re-issue of Currie’s edition, Peterkin was absolutely furious with Walter Scott’s treatment of a row between Burns and Syme involving Burns gesturally drawing his Excise sword. Sadly, but predictably, the Carswell archive in the Mitchell Library, Glasgow, talks of seventy missing letters from Syme to Cunningham which would have shed invaluable light on the politics of the Dumfries years (Mitchell Library MS 53).
Impromptu, on Mrs. Walter Riddell’s
Birthday
4th Nov. 1793
This first appears in Currie, 1800.
OLD Winter, with his frosty beard,
Thus once to Jove his prayer preferred.
What have I done of all the year,
To bear this hated doom severe?
5 My chearless suns no pleasure know;
Night’s horrid car drags dreary, slow:
My dismal months no joys are crowning,
But spleeny English hanging, drowning.
Now Jove, for once be mighty civil;
10 To counterbalance all this evil;
Give me, and I’ve no more to say,
Give me MARIA’s natal day!
That brilliant gift shall so enrich me,
Spring, Summer, Autumn, cannot match me.
15 ’Tis done!!! says Jove: so ends my story,
And Winter once rejoiced in glory.
Mrs Walter Riddell was Maria Woodley to her own name, the daughter of William Woodley, Governor of St Kitts. Burns wrote several pieces on Maria, particularly The Last Time I Came O’er the Muir.
Occasional Address, Spoken by Miss Fontenelle
On Her Benefit-Night, Dec. 4th, 1793,
At The Dumfries Theatre
First printed in Currie, 1800.
STILL anxious to secure your partial favor,
And not less anxious, sure, this night than ever,
A Prologue, Epilogue, or some such matter,
’Twould vamp my Bill, thought I, if nothing better;
5 So sought a Poet, roosted near the skies,
Told him, I came to feast my curious eyes;
Said, nothing like his works was ever printed,
And last, my Prologue-business, slily hinted.
Ma’am, let me tell you, quoth my Man of RHYMES,
10 I know your bent — these are no laughing times;
Can you, but, Miss, I own I have my fears,
Dissolve in pause — and sentimental tears —
With laden sighs, and solemn-rounded sentence,
Rouse from his sluggish slumbers, fell Repentance;
15 Paint Vengeance, as he takes his horrid stand,
Waving on high the desolating brand,
Calling the storms to bear him o’er a guilty Land!
I could no more — askance the creature eyeing,
D’ye think, said I, this face was made for crying?
20 I’ll laugh, that’s pos — nay more, the world shall know it;
And so, your servant, gloomy Master Poet.
Firm as my creed, Sirs,’ tis my fix’d belief,
That Misery’s another word for Grief.
I also think — so may I be a Bride!
25 That so much lau
ghter, so much life enjoy’d.
Thou man of crazy care, and ceaseless sigh,
Still under bleak Misfortune’s blasting eye;
Doom’d to that sorest task of man alive —
To make three guineas do the work of five;
30 Laugh in Misfortune’s face — the beldam witch!
Say, you ’ll be merry — tho’ you can’t be rich.
Thou other man of care, the wretch in love,
Who long with jiltish arts and airs hast strove;
Who, as the boughs all temptingly project,
35 Measur’st in desperate thought — a rope — thy neck —
Or, where the beetling cliff o’erhang the deep
Peerest to meditate the healing leap:
[For shame! For shame! I tell thee, thou art no man:
This for a giddy, vain, capricious woman?
40 A creature, though I say’t, you know, that should not;
Ridiculous with her idiot, ‘Would and would not’.]
Would’st thou be cur’d, thou silly, moping elf?
Laugh at her follies, laugh e’en at thyself:
Learn to despise those frowns, now so terrific;
45 And love a kinder — that’s your grand specific!
To sum up all — be merry! I advise;
And as we’re merry, may we still be wise. —
The Address, in first draft, was sent to Miss Louisa Fontenelle on 1st December, 1793. Burns deleted ll. 38–41. They are now reinserted within brackets. Fascinated by Miss Fontenelle, this poem grants her near-magical female powers to laugh Burns out of his dark pre-occupations with his two great recurrent enemies, reactionary politics and poverty. The last section, dealing with the suicidal lover is probably a jokey reference to his feelings for the actress. While mainly a witty piece, ll. 14–17 are charged with the dark political forces of 1793.
On Seeing Miss Fontenelle in a Favourite Character
First printed in Cunningham, 1834.
Sweet naiveté of feature,
Simple, wild, enchanting elf,
Not to thee, but thanks to Nature
Thou art acting but thyself.
Wert thou awkward, stiff, affected,
Spurning Nature, torturing art,
Loves and Graces all rejected,
Then indeed thou ’d’st act a part.
This was probably included in the letter Burns sent to Miss Fontenelle in December 1793 (Letter 599). Dr Currie was guilty of detaching, or tearing away fragments of poetry from Burns’s letters. The manuscript, which was in private hands in 1834, is now lost.
Husband, Husband, Cease Your Strife
Tune: My Joe Janet First printed in Thomson, 1799.
HUSBAND, husband, cease your strife,
Nor longer idly rave, Sir:
Tho’ I am your wedded wife,
Yet I am not your slave, Sir.
5 ‘One of two must still obey,
Nancy, Nancy;
Is it Man or Woman, say,
My Spouse Nancy.’
If ’tis still the lordly word,
10 Service and obedience;
I’ll desert my Sov’reign lord,
And so good bye, Allegiance!
‘Sad will I be, so bereft,
Nancy, Nancy;
15 Yet I’ll try to make a shift,
My Spouse Nancy.’
My poor heart then break it must,
My last hour I am near it:
When you lay me in the dust,
20 Think, how will you bear it. —
‘I will hope and trust in Heaven,
Nancy, Nancy;
Strength to bear it will be given,
My Spouse Nancy.’
25 Well, Sir, from the silent dead,
Still I’ll try to daunt you;
Ever round your midnight bed
Horrid sprites shall haunt you. —
‘I’ll wed another, like my Dear,
30 Nancy, Nancy;
Then all Hell will fly for fear,
My Spouse, Nancy.’—
This eloquent song in the alternate voice of husband and wife was sent to Thomson in December 1793. Henley and Henderson quote a further verse, probably from an early draft which reads:
If the word is still obey,
Always love and fear you,
I will take myself away
And never more come near you.
Burns, often now presented as exclusively a Jack-the-lad male chauvinist, gives the more dominant voice here to the female, who is robustly egalitarian.
To Miss Graham of Fintry
First printed in Currie, 1800.
Here, where the Scottish Muse immortal lives,
In sacred strains and tuneful numbers join’d,
Accept the gift; though humble he who gives,
Rich is the tribute of the grateful mind.
5 So may no ruffian feeling in thy breast,
Discordant, jar thy bosom-chords among;
But Peace attune thy gentle soul to rest,
Or Love ecstatic wake his seraph song.
Or Pity’s notes, in luxury of tears,
10 As modest Want the tale of woe reveals;
While conscious Virtue all the strain endears,
And heaven-born Piety her sanction seals.
Dumfries, 31st January, 1794
This was sent to Anne Graham, the elder daughter of Graham of Fintry, along with a copy of Thomson’s Select Collection of Scots songs on 31st January, 1794. While apolitical, the poem in language and tone, strongly echoes the sombre, elegiac The Scotian Muse written in October 1793.
Monody on a Lady Famed for her Caprice
First printed in Currie, 1800.
HOW cold is that bosom which Folly once fired,
How pale is that cheek where the rouge lately glisten’d;
How silent that tongue which the echoes oft tired,
How dull is that ear which to flatt’ry so listen’d. —
5 If sorrow and anguish their exit await,
From friendship and dearest affection remov’d;
How doubly severer, Maria, thy fate,
Thou diedst unwept, as thou livedst unloved. —
Loves, Graces, and Virtues, I call not on you;
10 So shy, grave, and distant, ye shed not a tear:
But come, all ye offspring of Folly so true,
And flowers let us cull for Maria’s cold bier. —
We’ll search through the garden for each silly flower,
We’ll range thro’ the forest for each idle weed;
15 But chiefly the nettle, so typical, shower,
For none e’er approach’d her but rued the rash deed. —
We’ll sculpture the marble, we’ll measure the lay;
Here Vanity1 strums on her idiot lyre;
There keen Indignation shall dart on his prey,
20 Which spurning Contempt shall redeem from his ire. —
The Epitaph
Here lies, now a prey to insulting Neglect,
What once was a butterfly, gay in life’s beam:
Want only of wisdom denied her respect,
Want only of goodness denied her esteem. —
This was written on Maria Riddell when her friendship with the poet was temporarily suspended after an incident in December 1793 during discussion of the classic ‘Rape of the Sabines’ at Robert Riddell’s home. The episode is normally cited as a prelude to condemning Burns out of court for drunken, shameful behaviour towards his host, Mrs Robert Riddell. Few actual facts are known. Most commentary is circumstantial, stressing the poet’s over dramatic apology (Letter 608). The poet’s personal acceptance of guilt is too often equated with complete responsibility for all that occurred. As a result, Burns was effectively ostracised by Maria Riddell, sister-in-law to Mrs Robert Riddell. It is now known that Mrs Robert Riddell had a reputation for spiteful behaviour and had rowed with Francis Grose. She also detested her brother-in-law Walter Riddell (See headnotes to Letter
608). The ‘scene’ may have been an aristocratic prank that embarrassed the poet and led to his being asked to leave. Whatever occurred, it led to a breakdown in cordiality between Burns and the Riddells.
Kinsley and Mackay damn Burns for writing what they both describe as a ‘tasteless libel’. Burns tells the story as follows to Mrs McLehose:
The subject of the foregoing is a woman of fashion in this country, with whom, at one period, I was well acquainted. By some scandalous conduct to me, & two or three other gentlemen here as well as me, she steered so far to the north of my good opinion, that I have made her the theme of several ill-natured things (Letter 629).
Mackay, always quick to condemn the poet’s behaviour, castigates Burns: ‘The scandalous conduct was her temerity in rebuking Burns’ (p. 511). When Currie first printed this work he substituted ‘Eliza’ for Maria, to eliminate embarrassment to Maria Riddell. He was certainly not trying to protect the poet’s reputation. Indeed by printing the apologetic letter to Mrs Robert Riddell, Currie was unfavourably representing Burns, loading him with the guilt of all, leaving everyone else stainless. By so doing Currie added to the mythology of Burns as an ill-mannered peasant drunkard. Maria Riddell obsessed Burns erotically, creatively and politically. The withdrawal of her favour led him to deadly, if transient, antagonism and in From Esopus to Maria to pathological jealousy. Burns is a perfect example of Blake’s dictum that: ‘Love & Hate are fed by the same nerve.’