TO MARY IN HEAVEN.1 Thou lingering star, with lessening ray, My Mary from my soul was torn. O Mary! dear departed shade! Where is thy place of blissful rest? Seest thou thy lover lowly laid? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast? That sacred hour can I forget, Can I forget the hallow'd grove, To live one day of parting love? Eternity will not efface Those records dear of transports past; Thy image at our last embrace! Ah, little thought we 'twas our last! Ayr, gurgling, kiss'd his pebbled shore, Still o'er these scenes my memory wakes, As streams their channels deeper wear. I This was the first object of his early, pure, impassioned love-Mary Campbell, or bis "Highland, Mary.' "In his poem, "Ye banks, and braes, and streams around he describes, in the most beautiful language, their tender and final parting on the banks of the Ayr. He intended to marry her, but she died at Greenock on her return from a visit to her relations in Argyleshire. At a later period of life, on the anniversary of that hallowed day when they parted, be devoted a night to a poetic vigil in the open air. As evening came, "he appeared to grow very sal about something," and wandered out of doors into the barn-yard, where his Jean found him lying on some straw with his eyes fixed on a shining star "like another moon." Thus did he write down As it now is, in its immortal beauty, this deeply pathetic elegy to the memory of his "Highland Mary.' My Mary, dear departed shade! Where is thy place of blissful rest? Seest thou thy lover lowly laid? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast? LESSONS FOR LIFE. Thou whom chance may hither lead, Be thou clad in russet weed, Be thou deck'd in silken stole, Life is but a day at most, Sprung from night, in darkness lost; Fear not clouds will always lower. As Youth and Love, with sprightly dance, Beneath thy morning-star advance, Pleasure, with her siren air, May delude the thoughtless pair: Let Prudence bless Enjoyment's cup, As thy day grows warm and high, Life's proud summits wouldst thou scale? Evils lurk in felon wait: Dangers, eagle-pinion'd, bold, Soar around each cliffy hold, While cheerful Peace, with linnet song, As the shades of evening close, There ruminate with sober thought, On all thou'st seen, and heard, and wrought; And teach the sportive younkers round, Saws of experience, sage and sound. Say, man's true, genuine estimate, The grand criterion of his fate, Thus resign'd and quiet, creep Sleep, whence thou shalt ne'er awake, THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT. My loved, my honor'd, much respected friend! My dearest meed, a friend's esteem and praise: To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays, The lowly train in life's sequester'd scene; The shortening winter-day is near à close; The toil-worn Cotter frae his labor goes, This night his weekly moil is at an end, And weary, o'er the moor, his course does hameward bend. At length his lonely cot appears in view, Beneath the shelter of an aged tree; Th' expectant wee things, toddlin,5 stacher through His wee bit ingle, blinkin bonnily. His clean hearth-stane, his thriftie wife's smile, The lisping infant prattling on his knee, Does a 10 his weary carking cares beguile, Belyve 12 the elder bairns come drappin in, Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman grown, To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be. 1 These beautiful lines were written in "Friars-Carse" Hermitage, on the banks of the Nith. 2 From. 3 Labor. Shining at intervals. 15 Kindly dexterous. 14 Cautious. 4 Little. 6 Tottering in their walk. 6 Stagger. 1760-1820.] BURNS. Wi' joy unfeign'd, brothers and sisters meet, Gars3 auld claes look amaist as weel's the new; The father mixes a' wi' admonition due. Their master's and their mistress's command, An' mind your duty, duly, morn an' night! They never sought in vain that sought the Lord aright! Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, and flush her cheek; Weel pleased the mother hears it's nae wild worthless rake. Wi' kindly welcome Jenny brings him ben;6 A strappan youth, he taks the mother's eye; The father cracks of horses, pleughs, and kye.9 But blate 10 an' laithfu'," scarce can weel behave; What maks the youth sae bashfu' an' sae grave, O, happy love! where love like this is found! I've paced much this weary, mortal round, "If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare, 'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair, In other's arms breathe out the tender tale, Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale." Is there, in human form, that bears a heart,- 5 Partly. 6 Into the parlor. 11 Reluctant. Curse on his perjured arts! dissembling smooth! Points to the parents fondling o'er their child? But now the supper crowns their simple board! The frugal wifie, garrulous, will tell, How 'twas a towmond 10 auld," sin 12 lint was i' the bell." The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face, His lyart 16 haffets 17 wearin' thin an' bare; They tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim; The tickled ears no heartfelt raptures raise; 5 Beyond. 6 A partition wall in a cottage. 10 Twelve months. 8 Sauce, milk. 4 A pet-name for a cow 7 Carefully preserved. 8 A cheese 11 Old. 12 Since. 13 Flax was in blossom. 9 Biting to the taste. 14 This picture, as all the world knows, he drew from his father. He was himself, in imagination, again one of the "wee things" that ran to meet him; and "the priest-like father" had long worn that aspect before the poet's eyes, though he died before he was threescore. "I have always con sidered William Burns," (the father,) says Murdoch, "as by far the best of the human race that I ever had the pleasure of being acquainted with, and many a worthy character I have known. He was a tender and affectionate father, and took pleasure in leading his children in the paths of virtue. I must not pretend to give you a description of all the manly qualities, the rational and Christian virtues of the venerable Burns. I shall only add, that he practised every known duty, and avoided every thing that was criminal." The following is the "Epitaph" which the son wrote for him: O ye, whose cheek the tear of pity stains, Draw near, with pious reverence, and attend! Here lie the loving husband's dear remains, The tender father, and the generous friend: The pitying heart that felt for human woe; The dauntless heart that fear'd no human pride; The friend of man, to vice alone a foe, 15 The great Bible kept in the hall. 18 Chooses. 16 Gray. |