[The "Mountain Daisy" was composed, as the Poet has related, at the plough: the field where he crushed the "Wee modest crimsontipped flower" lies next to that in which he turned up the nest of the Mouse, and both are on the farm of Mossgiel, and still shown to anxious inquirers by the neighbouring peasantry. "Mossgiel is about a mile from Mauchline. It is a very plain farm-steading of the kind described in Ramsay's 'Gentle Shepherd' :— 'A snug thack house, before the door a green ; Hens on the midden, ducks in dubs are seen; On this side stands a barn, on that a byre, A peat-stack joins, and forms a rural square ;' except that the buildings are not thatched. these mark the pencil of the poet, which delineates nature with the precision of intimacy, yet with the delicate colouring of beauty and of taste.-HENRY M'KENZIE. Being situated at the height of the country, between the vales of the Ayr and the Irvine, it has a peculiarly bleak and exposed appearance, which is but imperfectly obviated by a very tall hedge and some well-grown trees which gather around it, and beneath one of which, it is said, the Poet loved to recline. The domestic accommodations consist of little more than a but and a ben-that is, a kitchen and a small room. The latter, though in every respect most humble, and partly occupied by fixed beds, does not appear uncomfortable. Every consideration, hovever, in the mind of the visiter sinks beneath the one intense feeling that here within these four walls-warmed at this little fireplace, and lighted by this little window-lived one of the most extraordinary men that ever breathed; and here wrote some of the most celebrated poems of modern times. The house is in every respect exactly in the same condition as when the Poet lived in it."-CHAMBERS. "The Address to a Mountain Daisy,' is a Poem of the same nature with the Address "To a Mouse.' To extract out of incidents so common and seemingly so trivial as these, so fine a train of sentiment and imagery, is the surest proof, as well as the most brilliant triumph, of original genius."-CURrie. For still th' important end of life v. Aye free, aff han' your story tell, VI. The sacred lowe o' weel-plac'd love, But never tempt th' illicit rove, VII. To catch dame Fortune's golden smile, VIII. The fear o' hell's a hangman's whip Let that aye be your border: IX. The great Creator to revere Must sure become the creature; But still the preaching cant forbear, And ev'n the rigid feature: Yet ne'er with wits profane to range, Be complaisance extended; An Atheist laugh's a poor exchange For Deity offended! X. When ranting round in pleasure's ring, It may be little minded; XI. Adieu, dear, amiable youth! Your heart can ne'er be wanting! May prudence, fortitude, and truth Erect your brow undaunting! Now haud you there, ye're out o' sight, Below the fatt'rils, snug an' tight; In ploughman phrase, "God send you speed," Na, faith ye yet! ye'll no be right Still daily to grow wiser: And may you better reck the rede Than ever did th' adviser! "Burns' Poetical Epistles to his friends are admirable."-HAZLIT. "This is a beautiful and masterly Poem.". HOGG. "It displays much shrewdness, an intimate acquaintance with human nature, and great kind-heartedness. When Burns employed his mind in giving rules for moral and prudential conduct, no man was a sounder philosopher."MOTHERWELL. "This Epistle was addressed to one every way worthy of such a strain-Andrew Aiken, son of Robert Aiken, writer, in Ayr, to whom The Cotter's Saturday Night,' is inscribed. Young Aiken entered into the service of his country, and rose to distinction and affluence. He obtained some notice, too, in London, in 1832, at the dinner celebrating the birth-day of the Ayr-shire Ploughman, and that of the Ettrick Shepherd; nature having, it seems, out of a wondrous love for the 25th of January, produced both Poets on that day of the yearand produced them both in storms: the hail and the whirlwind were abroad when Burns was born; and Ettrick rose in flood, as Ettrick never rose before, when Hogg appeared !”ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. Till ye've got on it, The vera tapmost, tow'ring height O' Miss's bonnet. ["Homelier subjects were sometimes chosen by the Muse of Burns than his more stately friends desired. The Louse' is one of them. Some of his lady patronesses expostulated, and some critics frowned: it was all to no purpose. When once a man of genius begins to sacrifice his own judgment to the taste of others, who knows where he may halt? Almost all the themes on which Burns sung are of a humble kind: a Mouse, a Daisy, an Old Mare, a Haggis, and so on, all pertain to the clouted shoe. The moral which he draws is one the world is not out of need of: to see ourselves as others see us would give our vanity a plucking; 'What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us And ev'n devotion!' That vanity creeps into devotion is not unknown to the world. A worthy in my native vale, who imagined himself not only powerful in prayer, but that he had a sort of divinity of look conferred upon him when he knelt, turned round to his wife in the midst of his fervour, and said, Tibbie! how do I look when I that, in the Poet's day, a particular description of women's bonnets was named after the daring aeronaut." CHAMBERS.] R pray?' Another of our Nithsdale holy Willies, who commonly volunteered a prayer when a corpse was lifted at a burial, arrived too late on one occasion, and found his place supplied by a meek, mild man, whose calmness was mistaken for coldness. 'Sit you down, sir,' said the other, pushing him aside, your word has no weight at all; and, holding up his hands, poured out a thundering prayer, which might have been heard a mile down the wind. "ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. "This is a homely enough subject for the muse; but, lowly as it is, ample justice has been done to it. In his choice of subjects, Burns was by no means very fastidious, and more refined tastes would not have had the hardihood to introduce the 'Ugly, creepin, blastit wonner, Detested, shunn'd, by saunt and sinner,' as a vehicle for humorous sarcasm. The best verse, however, is the last; and, if poetical merit were to be determined by frequency of quotation, it would stand very high in the scale. It is on every person's lips."-MOTHERWELL.] Epistle to John Rankine, INCLOSING SOME POEMS. O ROUGH, rude, ready-witted Rankine, Your dreams* an' tricks Will send you, Korah-like, a-sinkin', Straught to auld Nick's. Ye hae sae monie cracks an' cants, An' fill them fou; † And then their failings, flaws, an' wants, Are a' seen through. Hypocrisy, in mercy spare it! A certain humorous dream of his was then making a noise in the country-side.-R. B. [Some occurrence is evidently here alluded to. We have heard the following account of it: A noted zealot of the opposite party (the name of Holy Willie has been mentioned, but more probably, from the context, the individual must have been a clergyman) calling on Mr. Rankine on business, the latter invited him to take a glass. With much entreaty the visiter was prevailed on to make a very small modicum of toddy. The stranger remarking that the liquor proved very strong, Mr. Rankine pointed out that a little more hot water might improve it. The kettle was accordingly resorted to, but still the liquor appeared over-potent. Again he filled up. Still, no diminution of strength. All this time he was sipping and sipping. By and bye, the liquor began to appear only too weak, and at length the reluctant guest ended by tumbling dead-drunk on the floor. The trick played upon him requires, of course, no explanation." CHAMBERS.] Think, wicked sinner, wha ye're skaithing, Frae ony unregenerate heathen I've sent you here some rhyming ware, Yon sang,† ye'll sen't wi' cannie care, Tho' faith, sma' heart hae I to sing! An' danc'd my fill! I'd better gaen an' sair't the king, "Twas ae night lately, in my fun, And, as the twilight was begun, Thought nane wad ken. ["The allusion here is to a privileged class of mendicants well known in Scotland by the name of 'Blue Gowns.' The order was instituted by James V. of Scotland, the royal 'Gaberlunzie-Man.' The brethren of the order assemble at Edinburgh every year, on the king's birthday, when each is presented with a new blue gown or cloak, and a sum equa! to a penny for each year of the king's age. To the breast of the gown is attached a round pewter plate, on which is inscribed the name of the wearer, and his warranty to pass unmolested.-The insignia of the order is only bestowed on persons of good moral character; and by it they are distinguished from such 'Randie gangrel bodies,' as 'In Poosie-Nansie's held the splore MOTHERWELL-] A song he had promised the author.-R. B. As soon's the clockin-time is by, For my gowd guinea: Trowth, they had muckle for to blame! "Twas neither broken wing nor limb, But twa-three draps about the wame Scarce thro' the feathers; An' baith a yellow George to claim, An' thole their blethers! It pits me aye as mad's a hare; When time's expedient: Meanwhile I am, respected Sir, Your most obedient. [John Rankine lived at Adam-Hill, in Ayrshire, and merited the praise of "rough and ready-witted," which Burns bestowed upon him. The "dream which was then making a noise in the country side" may be related as an instance of his caustic humour. Lord Kit is said, was in the practice of calling all his familiar acquaintances "brutes," and sometimes "damned brutes."- "Well, ye brute, how are ye to-day, ye d-d brute?" was his usual mode of salutation. Once, in company, his lordship having indulged in this rudeness more than his wont, turned to Rankine, and exclaimed, "Ye d-d brute, are ye dumb? Have ye no queer, sly story to tell us?"-"I have nae story," said Rankine, "but last night I had an odd dream."-" Out with it, by all means," said the other.-"Aweel, ye see," said Rankine, "I dreamed I was dead, and that for keeping other than good company upon earth I was damned. When I knocked at hell-door, wha should open it, but the deil; he was in a rough humour, and said 'Wha may ye be, and what's your name?'- My name,' quoth I, 'is John Rankine, and my dwelling-place was Adam-Hill.'-Gae wa' wi',' quoth Satan, 'ye canna be here; ye're ane of Lord K- -'s damned brutes-hell's fu' o' them already!"" This sharp rebuke, it is said, polished for the future his lordship's speech. Regarding this poem, and the circumstances to which it alludes, we subjoin the following excellent remarks from the pen of Mr. Lockhart : • [The above verses first appeared in a small octavo volume, entitled "Poems ascribed to Robert Burns, the Ayr-shire Bard," being a collection of pieces which either had not come under the attention of Dr. Currie, or which his fastidious taste had rejected. It was in this volume that originally appeared Burns's inimitable poem, "The JOLLY BEGGARS."] The subject of these verses was the Poet's illegitimate daughter whom, in "The Inventory," he styles his "Sonsie, smirking, dear-bought Bess." In consequence of the Poet's intention to go to Jamaica, he "The poet had not, as he confesses, come unscathed out of the society of those persons of 'liberal opinions' with whom he consorted in Irvine (during his flax-dressing experiment); and he expressly attributes to their lessons the scrape into which he fell soon after 'he put his hand to plough again.' He was compelled, according to the then almost universal custom of rural parishes in Scotland, to do penance in church, before the congregation, in consequence of the birth of an illegitimate child; and, whatever may be thought of the propriety of such exhibitions, there can be no difference of opinion as to the culpable levity with which he describes the nature of his offence, and the still more reprehensible bitterness with which, in his epistle to Rankine, he inveighs against the clergyman, who, in rebuking him, only performed what was then a regular part of the clerical duty, and a part of it that could never have been at all agreeable to the worthy man whom he satirizes under the appellation of Daddie Auld.” Verses to the same ; ON HIS WRITING TO THE POET, THAT A GIRL IN THAT PART OF THE COUNTRY WAS WITH CHILD BY HIM.* I AM a keeper of the law In some sma' points, altho' not a'; Ae way or ither, I hae been in for't ance or twice, That broke my rest, But now a rumour's like to rise, A whaup's i' the nest. The Poet's Welcome to his Ellegitimate Child.t THOU's welcome, wean! mischanter fa' me, If ought of thee, or of thy mammy, Shall ever danton me, or awe me, Or if I blush when thou shalt ca' me Wee image of my bonnie Betty, executed a deed at Mossgiel, on the 22nd of July, 1786, |