Some soothe the lab'rer's weary toil,
For humble gains,

And make his cottage scenes beguile
His cares and pains.

66

Some, bounded to a district space,
Explore at large man's infant race,
To mark the embryotic trace

Of rustic Bard;

And careful note each op'ning grace,

A guide and guard.

"Of these am I-Coila my name;
And this district as mine I claim,
Where once the Campbells,* chiefs of fame,
Held ruling pow'r :

I mark'd thy embryo tuneful flame,

Thy natal hour.

"With future hope, I oft would gaze, Fond, on thy little early ways,

Thy rudely caroll'd, chiming phrase,

In uncouth rhymes,

Fir'd at the simple, artless lays

Of other times.

"I saw thee seek the sounding shore, Delighted with the dashing roar ;

Or when the north his fleecy store

Drove thro' the sky,

I saw grim nature's visage hoar

Struck thy young eye.

"Or when the deep green mantled earth Warm cherish'd every flow'ret's birth,

* Of Loudon, for long time hereditary sheriffs of Ayrshire. H.

And joy and music pouring forth

In every grove,

I saw thee eye the gen'ral mirth

With boundless love.

"When ripen'd fields, and azure skies,
Call'd forth the reaper's rustling noise,
I saw thee leave their evening joys,

And lonely stalk,

To vent thy bosom's swelling rise

In pensive walk.

"When youthful love, warm-blushing, strong,
Keen-shivering shot thy nerves along,
Those accents, grateful to thy tongue,

Th' adored Name,

I taught thee how to pour in song,

To soothe thy flame.*

"I saw thy pulse's maddening play, Wild send thee Pleasure's devious way, Misled by Fancy's meteor ray,

By Passion driven;

But yet the light that led astray

Was light from heaven.

"I taught thy manners-painting strains,
The loves, the ways of simple swains,
Till now, o'er all my wide domains

Thy fame extends;

*This and the four preceding stanzas are quoted by Mackenzie in his notice of Burns, inserted in the Lounger, No. 97, as displaying in a remarkable degree "a high tone of feeling, a power and energy of expression, particularly and strongly characteristic of the mind and the voice of the poet. Of strains like the above, solemn and sublime, with that rapt and inspired melancholy in which the poet lifts his eye' above this visible diurnal sphere,' the poems entitled, Despondency,' the 'Lament,' 'Winter a Dirge,' and the Invocation to Ruin,' afford no less striking examples."-M.

And some, the pride of Coila's plains,
Become thy friends.

"Thou canst not learn, nor can I show, To paint with Thomson's landscape glow; Or wake the bosom-melting throe,

Or

pour,

With Shenstone's art;

with Gray, the moving flow
Warm on the heart.

"Yet all beneath th' unrivall'd rose,
The lowly daisy sweetly blows:
Tho' large the forest's monarch throws
His army shade,

Yet green the juicy hawthorn grows,
Adown the glade.

“Then never murmur nor repine ; Strive in thy humble sphere to shine; And trust me, not Potosi's mine,

Nor kings' regard,

Can give a bliss o'ermatching thine,

A rustic Bard.

"To give my counsels all in one, Thy tuneful flame still careful fan ; Preserve the Dignity of Man,

With soul erect:

And trust, the Universal Plan

Will all protect.

"And wear thou this"-she solemn said, And bound the Holly round my head;

The polish'd leaves, and berries red,

Did rustling play;

And, like a passing thought, she fled

In light away.

ADDRESS TO THE UNCO GUID,*

OR

THE RIGIDLY RIGHTEOUS.

My son, these maxims make a rule,
And lump them aye thegither:
The Rigid Righteous is a fool,

The Rigid Wise anither;

The cleanest corn that e'er was dight
May hae some pyles o' caff in ;
So ne'er a fellow-creature slight

For random fits o' daffin.

SOLOMON.-Eccles. ch. vii. ver. 10.

YE wha are sae guid yoursel,
Sae pious and sae holy,

Ye've nought to do but mark and tell
Your neebor's faults and folly!
Whase life is like a weel-gaun mill,
Supply'd wi' store o' water,

The heapet happer's ebbing still,

And still the clap plays clatter.

Hear me, ye venerable core,

As Counsel for poor mortals,
That frequent pass douce Wisdom's door
For glaikit Folly's portals;

I, for their thoughtless, careless sakes,
Would here propone defences,

* Burns has written more from his own heart and his own feelings than any other poet, of which this poem is an instance. With the secret fountains of passion in the human soul he was well acquainted, and deeply versed in their mysteries. The two last verses are above all praise.-H.

Their donsie tricks, their black mistakes, Their failings and mischances.

Ye see your state wi' theirs compar'd,

And shudder at the niffer,

But cast a moment's fair regard,

What maks the mighty differ

;

Discount what scant occasion gave
That purity ye pride in,

And (what's aft mair than a' the lave)
Your better art o' hiding.

Think, when your castigated pulse
Gies now and then a wallop,
What ragings must his veins convulse,
That still eternal gallop;

Wi' wind and tide fair i' your tail,

Right on ye scud your sea-way;
But in the teeth o' baith to sail,
It maks an unco lee-way.

See social life and glee sit down,
All joyous and unthinking,
Till, quite transmugrify'd, they're grown
Debauchery and drinking :

O would they stay to calculate

Th' eternal consequences;

Or your more dreaded hell to state,
Damnation of expenses!

Ye high, exalted, virtuous dames,
Ty'd up in godly laces,

Before ye gie poor frailty names,
Suppose a change o' cases;
A dear lov'd lad, convenience snug,
A treacherous inclination-

But, let me whisper i' your lug,
Ye're aiblins nae temptation.