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But will ye tell me, Master Cæsar,
Sure great folk's life's a life o' pleasure?
Nae cauld or hunger e'er can steer them,
The very thought o't needna fear them.

CESAR.

L-, man, were ye but whyles whare I am,
The gentles ye wad ne'er envy 'em.
It's true they needna starve or sweat,
Through winter's cauld, or simmer's heat;
They've nae sair wark to craze their banes,
And fill auld age wi' grips and granes;
But human bodies are sic fools,
For a' their colleges and schools,
That when nae real ills perplex them,
They mak enow themsel's to vex them;
And aye the less they hae to sturt them,
In like proportion less will hurt them.

A country fellow at the pleugh,
His acre's tilled, he 's right cneugh;
A country girl at her wheel,

Her dizzen's done, she's unco weel:
But Gentlemen, and Ladies warst,
Wi' even-down want o' wark are curst.
They loiter, lounging, lank, and lazy;
Though deil haet ails them, yet uneasy;
Their days insipid, dull, and tasteless;
Their nights unquiet, lang, and restless.
And e'en their sports, their balls and races,
Their galloping through public places,
There's sic parade, sic pomp, and art,
The joy can scarcely reach the heart.

The men cast out in party matches,
Then sowther a' in deep debauches;
Ae night they're mad wi' drink and w-ing,
Niest day their life is past enduring.

The Ladies arm-in-arm in clusters,
As great and gracious a' as sisters;
But hear their absent thoughts o' ither,
They're a' run deils and jads thegither.
Whyles o'er the wee bit cup and platie,
They sip the scandal potion pretty;
Or lee-lang nights, wi' crabbit leuks,
Pore owre the devil's pictured beuks;

molest

Stake on a chance a farmer's stackyard,
And cheat like ony unhanged blackguard.

There's some exception, man and woman;
But this is Gentry's life in common.

By this, the sun was out o' sight,
And darker gloaming brought the night:
The bum-clock hummed wi' lazy drone;
The kye stood rowtin' i' the loan;
When up they gat, and shook their lugs,
Rejoiced they were na men, but dogs;
And each took aff his several way,
Resolved to meet some ither day.

beetle

TO A LOUSE,

ON SEEING ONE ON A LADY'S BONNET AT CHURCH.1

Ha! where ye gaun, ye crawlin' ferlie?
Your impudence protects you sairly :

I canna say but ye strunt rarely

Owre gauze and lace;

Though faith, I fear ye dine but sparely
On sic a place.

Ye ugly, creepin', blastit wonner,
Detested, shunned, by saunt and sinner,
How dare you set your fit upon her,
Sae fine a lady?

Gae somewhere else, and seek your dinner
On some poor body.

Swith, in some beggar's haffet squattle;

There ye may creep, and sprawl, and sprattle

Wi' ither kindred, jumping cattle,

In shoals and nations;

Whare horn nor bane ne'er daur unsettle

Your thick plantations.

Now haud you there, ye 're out o' sight,

Below the fatt'rels, snug and tight;

Na, faith ye yet! ye'll no be right

Till ye've got on it,

The very tapmost, towering height
O' Miss's bonnet.

wonder

strut

cheek

ribbon-ends

The 'lady' here referred to was merely a village belle: her name is mentioned at Mauchline; but the reader will acknowledge that it ought not to be recorded in print. The poem exhibits descriptive power, but most persons would probably have wished it not written, but for the last stanza, which has become proverbial.

My sooth! right bauld ye set your nose out,
As plump and gray as ony grozet;
Oh for some rank, mercurial rozet,
Or fell, red smeddum,

I'd gie you sic a hearty doze o't,
Wad dress your droddum!

I wad na been surprised to spy
You on an auld wife's flannen toy;
Or aiblins some bit duddie boy,
On's wyliecoat;

But Miss's fine Lunardi! fie!1
How daur ye do 't?

Oh, Jenny, dinna toss your head,
And set your beauties a' abread!
Ye little ken what cursèd speed

The blastie's makin'!
Thae winks and finger-ends, I dread,
Are notice takin'!

Oh wad some power the giftie gie us
To see oursel's as others see us!
It wad frae monie a blunder free us,
And foolish notion:

What airs in dress and gait wad lea'e us,
And even devotion !

2

gooseberry

powder

breech

cap

The Twa Herds had brought Burns into the friendship of John Goudie and others of the townsmen of Black John Russell, and he appears, before February 1786, to have paid several visits to Kilmarnock. A local work relates an anecdote which may be generally, though not in every particular, true-that Goudie called one day on Burns at Mossgiel during harvest, and that Burns went out with him, and sitting down behind a stook, read to his visitor several of his poems. Goudie, delighted with what he heard, threw out hints of a desire to get the pocms published, and invited the bard to visit him at Kilmarnock. There, it is said, Burns met at Goudie's table a group of the better class of people living in the town-the town-clerk Paterson, a Dr Hamilton, Major Parker, banker; Dr William Moore; and Mr Robert Muir, merchant. He appeared amongst these respectables in his simple

1 Lunardi made several ascents in his balloon in Scotland in 1785, and gave rise to a kind of bonnet bearing his name.

The Contemporaries of Burns.

hodden gray, but doubtless astonished them by his wit and his verses. As visitors of Goudie, we cannot doubt that they were most of them partisans of the New Light. What immediately followed from the visit to Goudie we cannot tell: apparently, any wish that may have been formed either by the arch-heretic himself or any of his friends to get the poems published, did not come to any immediate effect.

At this time, by the death of a moderate clergyman named Mutrie, there was much excitement in Kilmarnock, it being uncertain whether the patron would appoint a moderate or a high-flier in his place. When it was learned that the appointment had been settled in favour of the Reverend James Mackinlay, a young scion of the zealous party, there was great joy throughout that camp. They remembered how a moderate-or, as Burns called it, a common-sense divinity-had come into their precincts twenty years before, with Mutrie's predecessor, Lindsay, and much they bewailed the effects of so long a predominance of error. But now this place was to be taken by one who might be expected to do much to repair the evil. The moderates were proportionately vexed. To console them as far as possible, Burns composed a poem containing an anticipatory view of the approaching ceremony, by which Mackinlay was to be introduced to his cure.'

THE ORDINATION.

For sense they little owe to frugal Heaven-
To please the mob, they hide the little given.'

Kilmarnock wabsters, fidge and claw,
And pour your creeshie nations;
And ye wha leather rax and draw,
O''a' denominations,

Swith to the Laigh Kirk, ane an a',

And there tak up your stations;

Then aff to Begbie's in a raw,
And pour divine libations

For joy this day.

The actual ordination of Mackinlay did not take place till the 6th April 1786.

2 Kilmarnock was then a town of between three and four thousand inhabitants, most of whom were engaged in the manufacture of carpets, and other coarse woollen goods, or in the preparation of leather.

3 A tavern near the church.

Curst Common Sense, that imp o' h—,
Cam in wi' Maggie Lauder;'
But Oliphant aft made her yell,
And Russell sair misca'd her; 2
This day Mackinlay taks the flail,

And he's the boy will blaud her!
He'll clap a shangan on her tail,
And set the bairns to daud her
Wi' dirt this day.

Mak haste and turn King David owre,

And lilt wi' holy clangor;

O' double verse come gie us four,

And skirl up the Bangor:

This day the Kirk kicks up a stoure,

Nae mair the knaves shall wrang her,

For Heresy is in her power,

And gloriously she'll whang her
Wi' pith this day.

Come, let a proper text be read,
And touch it aff wi' vigour,

3

How graceless Ham leugh at his dad,

Which made Canaan a nigger;

slap

cleft stick

bespatter

dust

There was a popular notion that Mr Lindsay had been indebted for his presentation from the patron, Lord Glencairn, to his wife, Margaret Lauder, who was believed, but, I am assured, erroneously, to have been his lordship's housekeeper. Mr Lindsay's induction, in 1764, was so much in opposition to the sentiments of the people, that it produced a riot, attended by many outrages. Three young men, who had distinguished themselves by their violence, were whipped through Ayr, and imprisoned a month. These circumstances evoked from a shoemaker, named Hunter, a scoffing ballad, to which Burns alludes in his original note on this passage, and which may be found in the History of Kilmarnock, by Archibald M'Kay: 1848.

The violence of the people was so extreme at the attempted induction of Mr Lindsay, as to put an effectual stop to the proceedings of the presbytery. The clergy dispersed in terror. A whimsical anecdote connected with the affair was related by the late William Aiton of Hamilton:-The minister of Fenwick fled in trepidation, and, mounting his horse, proceeded to ride home, with the fearful scene still occupying his excited imagination. It happened that an English commercial traveller was at the same time leaving the town on his way to Glasgow. He asked the road, which was then somewhat difficult to find, and very bad when it was found. ‘Keep after that man for the first four miles, and ye cannot go wrong,' said the people. The minister, finding a horseman following him very hard, thought it was an outraged Calvinist. He clapped the spurs to his beast, and flew faster than before. The Englishman, fearful to lose his way, put his horse to speed too, and then the affair became a John Gilpin scamper, only with two actors instead of one. At last the poor minister turned down a lane to one of his farmers, on whom he called in desperation to bring out his people and save his life. The Englishman, following close up, rode into the farmyard at the same moment, when, instead of a deadly combat on theological grounds, there took place only an explanation. The whole party enjoyed the joke so much, that the farmer insisted on keeping the stranger as his guest for the night, with the minister to help away the toddy.

2 Oliphant and Russell were Kilmarnock ministers of the zealous party. 3 Genesis, ix. 22.

VOL. I.

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