The Canongate Burns (129 page)
Read The Canongate Burns Online
Authors: Robert Burns
First printed in Stewart, Glasgow, 1801.
OH! had each SCOT of ancient times
       Been, JEANY SCOTT, as thou art,
The bravest heart on English ground
       Had yielded like a coward. â
The heroine here is still unknown. Kinsley picks up on the Chambers anecdote that it was based on Miss Jean Scott of Ecclefechan, daughter of the local postmaster (Chambers, Vol. IV, p. 193). Some editions print the title as
On Miss Jean Scott of Ayr
.
Tune: We'll Gang Nae Mair to Yon Town
First printed in Johnson, December 1796.Â
There's nane sall ken, there's nane sall guess,
none shall know
       What brings me back the gate again,
journey
But she, my fairest faithfu' lass,
       And stownlins we sall meet again. â
secretly
Â
Chorus:
5
I'll ay ca' in by yon town,
always call, that
       And by yon garden green, again;
I'll ay ca' in by yon town,
       And see my bonie Jean again. â
She'll wander by the aiken tree,
oak
10
       When trystin time draws near again;
meeting/cattle fair
And when her lovely form I see,
       O haith, she's doubly dear again!
a private oath
Â
This is given as Burns's work because of the Hastie manuscript sent to Johnson, although it was printed without the poet's signature which usually indicates that it was either a traditional song or one he slightly updated.
Tune: Ay Waukin O
First printed in Currie, 1800.Â
Can I cease to care,
       Can I cease to languish,
While my darling Fair
       Is on the couch of anguish. âÂ
Chorus
5
Long, long the night,
       Heavy comes the morrow,
While my soul's delight
       Is on her bed of sorrow. â
Ev'ry hope is fled;
10
       Ev'ry fear is terror;
Slumber even I dread,
       Ev'ry dream is horror. â
              Long, long the night, &c.
Hear me, Powers Divine!
       Oh, in pity, hear me!
15
Take aught else of mine,
       But my Chloris spare me!
              Long, long the night, &c.Â
Chloris (Jean Lorimer) is, once again, the heroine of this work. Burns sent a copy to Thomson in April 1795, having already sent a version to Maria Riddell in March when their friendship appears to have been somewhat repaired. Thomson printed it in 1801.
First printed in Hogg and Motherwell, 1834.
Now honest William's gaen to Heaven,
gone
       I wat na gin't can mend him:
don't know if it
The fauts he had in Latin lay,
faults
       For nane in English kend them.
â none, knew
William Cruikshank died in early 1795. Burns met him through either Robert Ainslie (both came from Duns) or William Nicol. Cruikshank was a colleague of Nicol at the Edinburgh High School where both men taught classics. Burns wrote
The Rosebud
for Cruikshank's daughter.
â
Tune: Loch Erroch side
First printed in Thomson, 1798.Â
O stay, sweet warbling wood lark stay,
Nor quit for me the trembling spray,
A hapless lover courts thy lay,
       Thy soothing, fond complaining. âÂ
5
Again, again that tender part,
That I may catch thy melting art;
For surely that wad touch her heart
would
       Wha kills me wi' disdaining.â
who
Say, was thy little mate unkind,
10
And heard thee as the careless wind?
Oh, nocht but love and sorrow join'd,
nothing
       Sic notes o' woe could wauken!
such, waken
Thou tells o' never-ending care;
O' speechless grief, and dark despair:
15
For pity's sake, sweet bird, nae mair!
no more
       Or my poor heart is broken!Â
On the Adam manuscript, a note states that the poet's son James Glencairn Burns claimed his father wrote this song at the request of Mrs John McMurdo. An early variant is recorded in Scott Douglas's Edinburgh edition, titled
Song Composed on Hearing a Bird
Sing While Musing on Chloris
, allegedly taken from a pencil manuscript by Burns then in private hands.
Tune: Humours of Glen
First printed in
The London Star
, 22nd December, 1796.Â
THEIR groves o' sweet myrtle let Foreign Lands reckon,
        Where bright-beaming summers exalt the perfume,
Far dearer to me yon lone glen o' green breckan
bracken
        Wi' th' burn stealing under the lang, yellow broom:
long
5
Far dearer to me are yon humble broom bowers,
        Where the blue-bell and gowan lurk, lowly, unseen;
For there, lightly tripping among the wild flowers,
        A list'ning the linnet, aft wanders my JEAN.
oft
Tho' rich is the breeze in their gay, sunny vallies,
10
        And cauld, CALEDONIA'S blast on the wave;
cold
Their sweet-scented woodlands that skirt the proud palace,
        What are they? The haunt o' the TYRANT and SLAVE.
The SLAVE'S spicy forests, and gold-bubbling fountains
        The brave CALEDONIAN views wi' disdain;
15
He wanders as free as the winds of his mountains,
        Save LOVE'S willing fetters, the chains o' his JEAN.Â
This twin eulogy of love and patriotism, to Mrs Jean Burns and to Caledonia was sent to Thomson in April 1795. It was published by him in 1799 to one of the poet's favourite melodies,
The Humours of
Glen
. It was copied by
The Morning Chronicle
on 24th December, 1796, then
Edinburgh Magazine
in May, 1797, followed by the
Scots
Magazine
, June 1797.
Tune: Laddie Lie Near Me
First printed in Currie, 1800.Â
'Twas na her bonie blue e'e was my ruin;
not, eye
Fair tho' she be, that was ne'er my undoing:
'Twas the dear smile when naebody did mind us,
nobody
'Twas the bewitching, sweet, stown glance o' kindness.
stolen
Â
5
Sair do I fear that to hope is denied me,
sore
Sair do I fear that despair maun abide me;
sore, must stay
But tho' fell Fortune should fate us to sever,
Queen shall she be in my bosom for ever.Â
Chloris I'm thine wi' a passion sincerest,
10
And thou hast plighted me love o' the dearest!
And thou 'rt the angel that never can alter,
Sooner the Sun in his motion would falter. âÂ
This was sent to Thomson in April 1795 when the song collector requested that Burns provide lyrics to the tune
Laddie Lie Near Me
. Thomson never printed them.
Tune: John Anderson My Jo
First printed in Thomson, 1799.
How cruel are the Parents
       Who riches only prize,
And to the wealthy booby
       Poor Woman sacrifice:
5
Meanwhile the hapless Daughter
       Has but a choice of strife;
To shun a tyrant Father's hate
       Become a wretched Wife. â
The ravening hawk pursuing,
10
       The trembling dove thus flies,
To shun impending ruin
       Awhile her pinion tries;
Till of escape despairing,
       No shelter or retreat,
15
She trusts the ruthless Falconer
       And drops beneath his feet. âÂ
This was, as the poet indicates in his first draft title: âAltered from an Old English Song'. It was sent to Thomson on 9th May, 1795. It is only partly reworked from the traditional lyric.
Tune: Deil Tak the Wars
First printed in Currie, 1800.
MARK yonder pomp of costly fashion,
        Round the wealthy, titled bride:
But when compar'd with real passion,
        Poor is all that princely pride.
5
                What are the showy treasures,
                What are the noisy pleasures,
The gay, gaudy glare of vanity and art:
                The polish'd jewel's blaze
                May draw the wond'ring gaze,
10
                And courtly grandeur bright
                The fancy may delight,
But never, never can come near the heart. â
But did you see my dearest Chloris
        In simplicity's array;
15
Lovely as yonder sweet opening flower is,
        Shrinking from the gaze of day.
                O then, the heart alarming,
                And all resistless charming,
In Love's delightful fetters, she chains the willing soul!
20
                Ambition would disown
                Th' world's imperial crown,
                Even Av'rice would deny
                His worshipp'd deity,
And feel thro' every vein love's raptures roll.
This was sent to Thomson in May 1795. Although Chloris (Jean Lorimer) is mentioned, her name is mere cover for the contrast of
ânatural' feelings of love and passion, untainted by what Burns saw as the more artificial world of the aristocratic fiscally-arranged marriage, then increasingly in vogue.
Written by the Author when he was grievously tormented by that Disorder.
First printed in
The Belfast Newsletter
, 11th September, 1797.Â
MY curse on your envenom'd stang,
sting
That shoots my tortur'd gooms alang,
gums along
An' thro' my lugs gies mony a bang
ears give, pain
       Wi' gnawin vengeance,
5
Tearing my nerves wi' bitter twang,
twinge
       Like racking engines.Â
A' down my beard the slavers trickle,
saliva
I cast the wee stools o'er the meikle,
small, largest
While round the fire the hav'rels keckle,
idiots cackle
10
       To see me loup;
jump
I curse an' ban, an' wish a heckle
flax-comb
       Were i' their doup.
backsides
Whan fevers burn, or ague freeze,
when
Rheumatics gnaw, or colic squeeze us,
15
Our neebors sympathise, to ease us,
neighbours
       Wi' pitying moan;
But thou â the hell o' a' diseases,
       They mock our groan.
O' a' the num'rous human dools
, woes
20
Ill-hairsts, daft bargains,
cutty-stools
,
bad harvests, public shaming
Or worthy frien's laid i' the mools,
earth
       Sad sight to see!
The tricks o' knaves, or fash o' fools,
annoyance
       Thou bear'st the gree.
wins the prize
25
Whare'er that place be, priests ca' Hell,
wherever
Whare a' the tones o' misery yell,
where
An' plagues in ranked number tell
       In deadly raw,
row
Thou,
Tooth-ache
, surely bear'st the bell
30
       Aboon them a'!
above
O! thou grim, mischief-making chiel,
chap/fellow
That gars the notes o' discord squeel,
makes
Till human-kind aft dance a reel
often
       In gore a shoe thick,
blood
35
Gie a' the faes o' Scotland's weal
give all, foes
       A TOWMOND'S TOOTHACHE!
year'sÂ
This work is undated, but its composition probably coincides with the poet's letter of May 1795 where he describes suffering from an awful toothache in the following manner, that âfifty troops of infernal Spirits are riding post from ear to ear along my jaw-bones' (Letter 671). This appeared first in the
Belfast Newsletter
, then a few days later, in
The Morning Chronicle
, 19th September, 1797. Burns had an avid, largely for political reasons, Ulster audience.