Now feebly bends she in the blast,
Unshelter'd and forlorn.

Blest be thy bloom, thou lovely gem,
Unscath'd by ruffian hand!

And from thee many a parent stem
Arise to deck our land!

TO MISS CRUIKSHANK,

A VERY YOUNG LADY.

WRITTEN ON THE BLANK LEAF OF A BOOK, PRESENTED TO HER BY THE AUTHOR.

[The beauteous rose-bud of this poem was one of the daughters of Mr. Cruikshank, a master in the High School of Edinburgh, at whose table Burns was a frequent guest during the year of hope which he spent in the northern metropolis.]

BEAUTEOUS rose-bud, young and
Blooming in thy early May,

Never may'st thou, lovely flow'r,
Chilly shrink in sleety show'r!
Never Boreas' hoary path,
Never Eurus' poisonous breath,
Never baleful stellar lights,

Taint thee with untimely blights!

Never, never reptile thief

Riot on thy virgin leaf!

Nor even Sol too fiercely view

gay,

Thy bosom blushing still with dew!

May'st thou long, sweet crimson gem,
Richly deck thy native stem:
'Till some evening, sober, calm,
Dropping dews and breathing balm,
While all around the woodland rings,
And ev'ry bird thy requiem sings;

Thou, amid the dirgeful sound,
Shed thy dying honours round,

And resign to parent earth

The loveliest form she e'er gave birth.

WILLIE CHALMERS.

[Lockhart first gave this poetic curiosity to the world: he copied it from a small manuscript volume of Poems given by Burns to Lady Harriet Don, with an explanation in these words: "W. Chalmers, a gentleman in Ayrshire, a particular friend of mine, asked me to write a poetic epistle to a young lady, his Dulcinea. I had seen her, but was scarcely acquainted with her, and wrote as follows." Chalmers was a writer in Ayr. i have not heard that the lady was influenced by this volunteer effusion: ladies are seldom rhymed into the matrimonial snare.]

Wr' braw new branks in mickle pride,

And eke a braw new brechan,

My Pegasus I'm got astride,

And up Parnassus pechin;

Whiles owre a bush wi' downward crush

The doitie beastie stammers;

Then up he gets and off he sets
For sake o' Willie Chalmers.

I doubt na, lass, that weel kenn'd name
May cost a pair o' blushes;

I am nae stranger to your fame,

Nor his warm urged wishes.

Your bonnie face sae mild and sweet.

His honest heart enamours,

And faith ye'll no be lost a whit,

Tho' waired on Willie Chalmers.

Auld Truth hersel' might swear ye're fair,
And Honour safely back her,
And Modesty assume your air,
And ne'er a ane mistak' her:
And sic twa love-inspiring een
Might fire even holy Palmers;
Nae wonder then they've fatal been
To honest Willie Chalmers.

I doubt na fortune may you shore
Some mim-mou'd pouthered priestie,

Fu' lifted up wi' Hebrew lore,

And band upon his breastie :
But Oh! what signifies to you

His lexicons and grammars;

The feeling heart's the royal blue,
And that's wi' Willie Chalmers.

Some gapin', glowrin' countra laird,
May warstle for your favour;
May claw his lug, and straik his beard,

And hoast up some palaver.
My bonnie maid, before ye wed

Sic clumsy-witted hammers,

Seek Heaven for help, and barefit skelp
Awa' wi' Willie Chalmers.

LYING AT A REVEREND FRIEND'S HOUSE ONE NIGHT, THE AUTHOR LEFT THE FOLLOWING

VERSES

IN THE ROOM WHERE HE SLEPT.

[Of the origin of these verses Gilbert Burns gives the following account. "The first time Robert heard the spinnet played was at the house of Dr. Lawrie, then minister of Loudon, now in Glasgow. Dr. Lawrie has 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,
Long, long, be pleased to spare;

To bless his filial little flock,

And show what good men are.

She who her lovely offspring eyes
With tender hopes and fears,
O, bless her with a mother's joys,
But spare a mother's tears!

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 ev'ry hand-
Guide Thou their steps alway.

When soon or late they reach that coast,
O'er life's rough ocean driven,
May they rejoice, no wanderer lost,
A family in Heaven!

TO GAVIN HAMILTON, ESQ., MAUCHLINE.

(RECOMMENDING A BOY.)

[Verse seems to have been the natural language of Burns. The Master Tootie whose skill he records, lived in Mauchline, and dealt in cows; he was an artful and contriving person, great in bargaining and intimate with all the professional tricks by which old cows are made to look young, and six-pint hawkies pass for those of twelve.]

Mossgiel, May 3, 1786

I HOLD it, Sir, my bounden duty,

To warn you how that Master Tootie,

Alias, Laird M'Gaun,

Was here to hire yon lad away
'Bout whom ye spak the tither day,

An' wad ha'e done't aff han':
But lest he learn the callan tricks,
As, faith, I muckle doubt him,

Like scrapin' out auld Crummie's nicks,
An' tellin' lies about them;

As lieve then, I'd have then,

Your clerkship he should sair, If sae be, ye may be

Not fitted otherwhere.

Altho' I say't, he's gleg enough,

An' bout a house that's rude an' rough
The boy might learn to swear;
But then wi' you, he'll be sae taught,
An' get sic fair example straught,

My word of honour I have gien,

In Paisley John's, that night at e'en,
To meet the Warld's worm;

To try to get the twa to gree,
An' name the airles1 an' the fee,
In legal mode an' form:

I ken he weel a snick can draw,
When simple bodies let him;
An' if a Devil be at a',

In faith he's sure to get him.
To phrase you, an' praise you,
Ye ken your Laureat scorns:
The pray'r still, you share still,
Of grateful MINSTREL BURNS.

1 The airles-earnest money.