EPISTLE TO A YOUNG FRIEND. May 1786. [The poet has printed "May, 1786," as the date of this very sensible memento, which has a good deal more of the sermon than the song in it. The only copy of this epistle known to exist in the author's MS. gives the date more minutely, thus-"Mossgiel, 15th May, 1786." That day was a Monday-the Term-day on which any maid-servant who has resolved on leaving her place, must "row up her wee kist wi' her a' in't," and go elsewhere. It has been established by a minute searcher into such matters, that on that day a humble serving-maid at Mauchline, whose name has since become imperishable in the lustre thrown over it by the lyric genius of Burns, bade farewell to Ayrshire, and went home to reside with her parents in the West Highlands. It is extremely difficult to realize in our minds the fact-yet a fact it is, that the day preceding the one on which this shrewd and prudential epistle was penned, was that memorable "day of lasting love," regarding which the poet has left us this record in prose :— "My Highland Lassie was a warm-hearted, charming young creature as ever blest a man with generous love. After a pretty long tract of the most ardent reciprocal attachment, we met by appointment on the second Sunday of May, in a sequestered spot on the banks of the Ayr, where we spent the day in taking a farewell, before she should embark for the West Highlands to arrange matters for our projected change of life." One naturally asks-Where is the room, and when could the poet find time, during this season of disquietude-of restless activity and flowing inspiration, for "a pretty long tract" of courtship with one who was never seen in his company?-with one, too, whose name he was never known to whisper in mortal ear till she had been three years in her grave -one whom he did not allude to in his minute autobiography-never spoke of, even in his confidential unbosomings to Clarinda, and never once referred to until he had provoked enquiry by the production of his sublime Address to "Mary in Heaven"? One answer, and only one, to all this is, that Burns, notwithstanding his apparent ingenuousness and candour, may not have been quite so open-hearted as his own COILA, "whose eye, ev'n turn'd on empty space, beam'd keen with honor." Indeed, the very poem which has given rise to this note, inculcates secretiveness and cunning, of a very questionable kind : "Ay free, aff han', your story tell, when wi' a bosom crony; We quite concur with Robert Chambers in holding that Burns is neither philosophically nor morally right in giving such advice to his young friend. It remains to be noted that Andrew Aiken, to whom the epistle is addressed, was the son of Robert Aiken, writer in Ayr, the early patron of the poet. He became a successful merchant, and died at Riga in 1831, while holding the office of English Consul there.] I LANG hae thought, my youthfu' friend, A Something to have sent you, Tho' it should serve nae other end Ye'll try the world soon my lad, I'll no say, men are villains a’; But Och, mankind are unco weak, Yet they wha fa' in Fortune's strife, Ay free, aff han', your story tell, The sacred lowe o' weel plac'd love, But never tempt th'illicit rove, Tho' naething should divulge it : I wave the quantum o' the sin; To catch Dame Fortune's golden smile, The great CREATOR to revere, Must sure become the Creature ; But still the preaching cant forbear, An athiest-laugh's a poor exchange *Here, in the MS. occurs this additional stanza : "If ye hae made a step aside, some hap mistake o'ertane you, Mr. Chambers well remarks, that although this verse throws a valuable light on the state of the poet's mind at this crisis, we should not desire to see it replaced in the poem from which the author excluded it in his book, as felt to be below the other stanzas in terseness and point. When ranting round in Pleasure's ring, But when on Life we're tempest-driv❜n, Adieu, dear, amiable Youth! Your heart can ne'er be wanting! May Prudence, Fortitude and Truth Erect your brow undaunting! In ploughman phrase 'GOD send you speed,' Still daily to grow wiser; And may ye better reck the rede, Than ever did th' Adviser! ON A SCOTCH BARD GONE TO THE WEST INDIES. [Whatever were the poet's feelings at this period, in reference to the hostility of the Armour family, he certainly made no secret of his intentions to go abroad. On July 17th, 1786, within a fortnight of the publication of his Book, he wrote thus to a friend:-"I am now fixed to go to the West Indies in October, I have already appeared publicly in church, and was indulged in the liberty of standing in my own seat: I do this to get a certificate as a bachelor, which Mr. Auld has promised me. Jean and her friends insisted much that she should stand along with me in the Kirk; but the minister would not allow it. I am very much pleased, for all that, not to have had her company." The present humorous poem, therefore, must have been dashed off, about this time, to help the filling up of his volume. The heart of the poet had grown lighter under the excitement of preparing and superintending the printing of his poems, and the present Lament forms a striking contrast to that mournful poem so named which he had composed not three months before. He now makes a laugh at those calamities which then wrung his very soul, and perhaps, after all, his later frame of spirit is the more philosophic and wholesome of the two. The mock tenderness of the following verse is irresistable:— "He saw Misfortune's cauld Nor-west, Lang mustering up a bitter blast; A. Jillet brak his heart at last, Ill may she be! So, took a birth afore the mast, An' owre the Sea."] A'YE wha live by sowps o' drink, Come, mourn wi' me Our billie's gien us a' a jink,* An' owre the Sea. Lament him a' ye rantan core, For now he's taen anither shore, An' owre the Sea! The bonie lasses weel may wiss him, For weel I wat they'll sairly miss him * In the MS." Our billie Rob has taen a jink." |