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TO --- BRUCE.
[_]
A NUMBER of years after the preceding, correspondence had taken place, and having in the mean time had no personal communication, or acquaintance, several things appeared from this bard, and on the score of politics, somewhat personal towards me. This drew from me the following, to which an answer was given, on the part of this gentleman, and a rejoinder from me; this was in the summer of the year 1801.
WHEN of an age to run an errand
To town or farm-house that was near hand,
A bird's nest, or a beastie's bed,
Aft turn'd me frae the gate I gaed;
Mare, when I saw the thing itsel,
And ran to catch it by the tail,
As ance a thing just leke a cat,
I saw, and what wa'd I be at,
But try to grip it, a wild pousie,
And bring it hame to catch a mousie.
Before I knew what I was doing,
Or mischief that the thing was brewing,
A vapour came that had a smell,
And made me noisome to mysel.
To town or farm-house that was near hand,
A bird's nest, or a beastie's bed,
Aft turn'd me frae the gate I gaed;
Mare, when I saw the thing itsel,
And ran to catch it by the tail,
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I saw, and what wa'd I be at,
But try to grip it, a wild pousie,
And bring it hame to catch a mousie.
Before I knew what I was doing,
Or mischief that the thing was brewing,
A vapour came that had a smell,
And made me noisome to mysel.
As fast as I could lift a heel,
Ran hame, and said the muckle deel,
Or some war thing alang the fence,
Had drain'd its bags at my expence,
And rais'd a funk, and made me wet—
Ran hame, and said the muckle deel,
Or some war thing alang the fence,
Had drain'd its bags at my expence,
And rais'd a funk, and made me wet—
They ca'd it something I forget,
That strones upon a man and dog,
That tries to take it by the lug,
And leaves a scent about the place:
That it behov'd to change my claes;
Sae stripp'd me o' my sark and trouse,
And hung them out to get the dews,
And bade me tak mare care again,
And keep frae things I did na ken.
That strones upon a man and dog,
That tries to take it by the lug,
And leaves a scent about the place:
That it behov'd to change my claes;
Sae stripp'd me o' my sark and trouse,
And hung them out to get the dews,
And bade me tak mare care again,
And keep frae things I did na ken.
Soon after this I gaed to Latin;
And read a buke, I kenna what in,
That talk'd o' things that whir in bushes,
Dryads, Hamadryads, Muses,
On tops o' hills wad sing leke Mavies,
And in the shady woods and cavies.
Thought I, it maun be this vile clearing,
And grubbing up the trees-and bleering
At burning brush, and making fences,
That scars these things out o' their senses,
And drives them frae our fields and patches;
For who sees any, now or catches,
A moor-land deity or Nymphy,
That roosts in trees, or wades in lymphy?
Or hears a musy in the thicket,
Just as you wad hear a cricket?
May be in places farther back,
The vestige may na be sae slack;
Where woods are green, and countra new,
The breed may yet remain, a few,
May sing to mak' our spirits glow,
Leke them on the pierean now,
Or near that place ca'd Helicon,
Where bonny tricklin' streams rin down.
And read a buke, I kenna what in,
That talk'd o' things that whir in bushes,
Dryads, Hamadryads, Muses,
On tops o' hills wad sing leke Mavies,
And in the shady woods and cavies.
Thought I, it maun be this vile clearing,
And grubbing up the trees-and bleering
At burning brush, and making fences,
That scars these things out o' their senses,
And drives them frae our fields and patches;
For who sees any, now or catches,
A moor-land deity or Nymphy,
That roosts in trees, or wades in lymphy?
Or hears a musy in the thicket,
Just as you wad hear a cricket?
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The vestige may na be sae slack;
Where woods are green, and countra new,
The breed may yet remain, a few,
May sing to mak' our spirits glow,
Leke them on the pierean now,
Or near that place ca'd Helicon,
Where bonny tricklin' streams rin down.
It was when I had cross'd the hills;
Amang these western woods and rills,
Was sitting listening ae still e'en;
I min't as weel's I do yest reen;
It seem'd to me, I heard the seugh,
O' ane; I kent it weel eneugh:
It was nae inarticulate trill,
Or echo o' the whippoorwill,
But words cam' wi the melody;
I kent the verra air, d'ye see,
Frae the description I had got,
In Latin buke, or Grecian poet.
Ah, hah! thought I, this sang is fine,
It has an inkling of the nine;
It maun be what they ca a muse—
What was it but the voice o' Bruce.
O' a Lochabar origin
And Scottish air sae very fine,
Thought natural, expression saft:
I loupit leke a man ha'f daft;
To think at last, out owre these woods,
Amang the simmer trees and buds,
A bardie should spring up, a musie,
A genuine Parnassus pousie,
In nature real, and in mew,
Of Arcady a Kitlin' true.
Amang these western woods and rills,
Was sitting listening ae still e'en;
I min't as weel's I do yest reen;
It seem'd to me, I heard the seugh,
O' ane; I kent it weel eneugh:
It was nae inarticulate trill,
Or echo o' the whippoorwill,
But words cam' wi the melody;
I kent the verra air, d'ye see,
Frae the description I had got,
In Latin buke, or Grecian poet.
Ah, hah! thought I, this sang is fine,
It has an inkling of the nine;
It maun be what they ca a muse—
What was it but the voice o' Bruce.
O' a Lochabar origin
And Scottish air sae very fine,
Thought natural, expression saft:
I loupit leke a man ha'f daft;
To think at last, out owre these woods,
Amang the simmer trees and buds,
A bardie should spring up, a musie,
A genuine Parnassus pousie,
In nature real, and in mew,
Of Arcady a Kitlin' true.
My wishes led me to caress it;
To stroke the thing and amaist kiss it;
But what my wonder and surprisal,
Without an ill word or devisal,
To find the thing when a' was done,
In verse, and sang begin to strone,
Wi Hogo war than assa fetid,
Or bag o' animal four fitit;
To stroke the thing and amaist kiss it;
But what my wonder and surprisal,
Without an ill word or devisal,
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In verse, and sang begin to strone,
Wi Hogo war than assa fetid,
Or bag o' animal four fitit;
I thought me o' what happen'd early,
When Skunkie pish'd upon me fairly
When I had ta'en it for a rabbit,
And did na think it would grow crabbit.
When Skunkie pish'd upon me fairly
When I had ta'en it for a rabbit,
And did na think it would grow crabbit.
Sae frae the verra self same things,
Our gude and evil aften springs;
Our pleasure and our pain thegither.
The bony bard is turn'd dog mither,
And bites and brangles like a bitch,
Or an opossum, makes na which;
Or a racoon upon the creek,
Near where his cabin gies it's reek.
But still the consolation's taen;
Hard words, and language break nae bane.
While I can laugh and take a drink,
Ill be to them that evil think.
Here's to the bardie; fill the cogue;
Or send and get anither jug:
The best way is to laugh at fools;
It is the wisdom of the schools;
For mirth tak's out the sting o' hurt;
And mental wounds are this way cur'd.
Our gude and evil aften springs;
Our pleasure and our pain thegither.
The bony bard is turn'd dog mither,
And bites and brangles like a bitch,
Or an opossum, makes na which;
Or a racoon upon the creek,
Near where his cabin gies it's reek.
But still the consolation's taen;
Hard words, and language break nae bane.
While I can laugh and take a drink,
Ill be to them that evil think.
Here's to the bardie; fill the cogue;
Or send and get anither jug:
The best way is to laugh at fools;
It is the wisdom of the schools;
For mirth tak's out the sting o' hurt;
And mental wounds are this way cur'd.
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