The Canongate Burns. Robert Burns

      When shall my soul, in silent peace,

      Resign Life’s joyless day?

      My weary heart its throbbings cease,

      Cold-mould’ring in the clay?

      25 No fear more, no tear more

      To stain my lifeless face,

      Enclasped and grasped

      Within thy cold embrace!

      This was probably written in the winter of 1781–2. This melancholic work in the bob-wheel stanza of the old Scots poem The Cherry and the Slae, reveals the poet’s holistic view that a God of Nature influences both the pleasure and the woes of life from the fall of historic Empires to individual experience. It is a distinctive brush-stroke of Burns to move from universal comment to a specific incident. The hardship of eighteenth-century rural existence on a leased farm, particularly during winter periods, energises the poem. The subtext is the poet’s rejection by a lover who is believed to be Alison Begbie.

       Epistle to a Young Friend May, 1786

      First printed in the Kilmarnock edition, 1786.

      I lang hae thought, my youthfu’ friend, long have

      A Something to have sent you,

      Tho’ it should serve nae ither end no other

      Than just a kind memento;

      5 But how the subject-theme may gang, go

      Let time and chance determine;

      Perhaps it may turn out a Sang; song

      Perhaps, turn out a Sermon.

      Ye’ll try the world soon, my lad;

      10 And, ANDREW dear believe me,

      Ye’ll find mankind an unco squad, strange crowd

      And muckle they may grieve ye: much

      For care and trouble set your thought,

      Ev’n when your end’s attained;

      15 And a’ your views may come to nought,

      Where ev’ry nerve is strained.

      I’ll no say, men are villains a’:

      The real, harden’d wicked,

      Wha hae nae check but human law, who have no

      20 Are to a few restricked; restricted

      But, Och, mankind are unco weak very

      An’ little to be trusted;

      If Self the wavering balance shake,

      It’s rarely right adjusted!

      25 Yet they wha fa’ in Fortune’s strife, who fall

      Their fate we should na censure, not

      For still, th’ important end of life

      They equally may answer:

      A man may hae an honest heart, have

      30 Tho’ Poortith hourly stare him; poverty, look over him

      A man may tak a neebor’s part, neighbour’s

      Yet hae nae cash to spare him. have no

      Ay free, aff han’, your story tell, always, off hand/casual

      When wi’ a bosom crony; close friend

      35 But still keep something to yoursel

      Ye scarcely tell to ony: any

      Conceal yoursel as weel’s ye can well as

      Frae critical dissection: from

      But keek thro’ ev’ry other man look

      40 Wi’ sharpen’d, sly inspection.

      The sacred lowe o’ weel-plac’d love, flame, well-

      Luxuriantly indulge it;

      But never tempt th’ illicit rove,

      Tho’ naething should divulge it: nothing

      45 I waive the quantum o’ the sin,

      The hazard of concealing;

      But, Och! it hardens a’ within,

      And petrifies the feeling!

      To catch Dame Fortune’s golden smile,

      50 Assiduous wait upon her;

      And gather gear by ev’ry wile worldly goods, skill

      That’s justify’d by Honor:

      Not for to hide it in a hedge, not to be a miser

      Nor for a train-attendant; not for showy wealth

      55 But for the glorious privilege

      Of being independent.

      The fear o’ Hell’s a hangman’s whip

      To haud the wretch in order; hold

      But where ye feel your Honour grip,

      60 Let that ay be your border: always

      Its slightest touches, instant pause —

      Debar a’ side-pretences; consider no distraction

      And resolutely keep its laws,

      Uncaring consequences.

      65 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 prophane to range

      70 Be complaisance extended;

      An atheist-laugh’s a poor exchange

      For Deity offended!

      When ranting round in Pleasure’s ring, making merry/fun

      Religion may be blinded;

      75 Or if she gie a random-fling, give

      It may be little minded;

      But when on Life we’re tempest-driv’n,

      A Conscience but a canker — peevishness

      A correspondence fix’d wi’ Heav’n

      80 Is sure a noble anchor!

      Adieu, dear, amiable youth!

      Your heart can ne’er be wanting!

      May Prudence, Fortitude, and Truth,

      Erect your brow undaunting!

      85 In ploughman phrase, ‘GOD send you speed,’

      Still daily to grow wiser;

      And may ye better reck the rede, heed the advice

      Than ever did th’ Adviser!

      This was written for his friend Robert Aitken’s son Andrew and was finished in May, 1786. Robert Aitken is the legal hero of Holy Willie’s Prayer. Prudent counsellor is not the most probable of Burns’s multiple roles. The problems implicit in the poem are highlighted by a deeply cautionary letter sent four years later to his younger brother William who was moving from Newcastle to London to pursue his career as a saddler:

      Now that you are setting out from that place, put on manly resolve, & determine to persevere; and in that case you will less or more be sure of success. – One or two things allow me to particularize to you. – London swarms with