Robert Burns: How To Know Him Part 11

Altho' the night were ne'er sae wild, And I were ne'er sae wearie O, I'd meet thee on the lea-rig, My ain kind dearie O.

The hunter lo'es the morning sun, [loves]

To rouse the mountain deer, my jo; At noon the fisher takes the glen, Along the burn to steer, my jo; Gie me the hour o' gloamin grey [twilight]

It maks my heart sae cheery O, To meet thee on the lea-rig, My ain kind dearie O.

AULD ROB MORRIS

There's auld Rob Morris that wons in yon glen, [dwells]

He's the king o' gude fellows and wale of auld men; [pick]

He has gowd in his coffers, he has owsen and kine, [gold, oxen]

And ae bonnie la.s.sie, his dautie and mine. [one, darling]

She's fresh as the morning, the fairest in May; She's sweet as the ev'ning amang the new hay; As blythe and as artless as the lambs on the lea, And dear to my heart as the light to my e'e.

But oh! she's an heiress, auld Robin's a laird, And my daddie has nought but a cot-house and yard; [garden]

A wooer like me maunna hope to come speed, [must not]

The wounds I must hide that will soon be my dead. [death]

The day comes to me, but delight brings me nane; The night comes to me, but my rest it is gane; I wander my lane, like a night-troubled ghaist, [alone, ghost]

And I sigh as my heart it wad burst in my breast.

O had she but been of a lower degree, I then might hae hoped she wad smiled upon me; O how past descriving had then been my bliss, [describing]

As now my distraction no words can express!

_O, Wert Thou in the Cauld Blast_, besides being one of the most exquisite of his songs, has a pathetic interest from the circ.u.mstances under which it was composed. During the last few months of his life, a young girl called Jessie Lewars, sister of one of his colleagues in the excise, came much to his house and was of great service to Mrs.

Burns and him in his last illness. One day he offered to write new verses to any tune she might play him. She sat down and played over several times the melody of an old song, beginning,

The robin came to the wren's nest, And keekit in, and keekit in.

The following lines were the characteristic result:

O, WERT THOU IN THE CAULD BLAST

O, wert thou in the cauld blast, [cold]

On yonder lea, on yonder lea, My plaidie to the angry airt, [direction]

I'd shelter thee, I'd shelter thee, Or did misfortune's bitter storms Around thee blaw, around thee blaw, Thy bield should be my bosom, [shelter]

To share it a', to share it a'.

Or were I in the wildest waste, Sae black and bare, sae black and bare, The desert were a paradise, If thou wert there, if thou wert there.

Or were I monarch o' the globe, Wi' thee to reign, wi' thee to reign, The brightest jewel in my crown Wad be my queen, wad be my queen.

This group may well close with his great hymn of general allegiance to the s.e.x.

GREEN GROW THE RASHES

Green grow the rashes, O, Green grow the rashes, O; The sweetest hours that e'er I spend, Are spent amang the la.s.ses, O!

There's nought but care on ev'ry han', In ev'ry hour that pa.s.ses, O; What signifies the life o' man, An' 'twere na for the la.s.ses, O.

The warly race may riches chase, [worldly]

An' riches still may fly them, O; An' tho' at last they catch them fast, Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, O.

But gie me a canny hour at e'en, [quiet]

My arms about my dearie, O; An' warly cares, an' warly men, May a' gae tapsalteerie, O! [upside-down]

For you sae douce, ye sneer at this, [sedate]

Ye're nought but senseless a.s.ses, O: The wisest man the warl' e'er saw, He dearly lov'd the la.s.ses, O.

Auld Nature swears, the lovely dears Her n.o.blest work she cla.s.ses, O; Her prentice han' she tried on man, An' then she made the la.s.ses, O.

Equally personal, but not connected with love, are a few autobiographical poems of which the following are typical. The third of these, though prosaic enough, is interesting as perhaps Burns's most elaborate summing up of the philosophy of his own career.

THERE WAS A LAD

There was a lad was born in Kyle, But whatna day o' whatna style [what]

I doubt it's hardly worth the while To be sae nice wi' Robin.

Robin was a rovin' boy, [roystering]

Rantin' rovin', rantin' rovin'; Robin was a rovin' boy, Rantin' rovin' Robin.

Our monarch's hindmost year but ane [one]

Was five-and-twenty days begun, 'Twas then a blast o' Janwar win'

Blew hansel in on Robin. [his first gift]

The gossip keekit in his loof, [peeped, palm]

Quo' scho, 'Wha lives will see the proof, [Quoth she]

This waly boy will be nae coof, [choice, dolt]

I think we'll ca' him Robin. [call]

'He'll hae misfortunes great an' sma', But aye a heart aboon them a'; [above]

He'll be a credit till us a', [to]

We'll a' be proud o' Robin.

'But sure as three times three mak nine, I see by ilka score and line, [each]

This chap will dearly like our kin', [s.e.x]

So leeze me on thee, Robin. [blessing on]

'Guid faith,' quo' scho, 'I doubt you, stir, [sir]

Ye gar the la.s.ses lie aspar, [make, aspread]

But twenty fauts ye may hae waur, [faults, worse]

So blessings on thee, Robin!'

CONTENTED WI' LITTLE