There was ae sang, amang the rest, It thirled the heart-strings through the breast, Then up I gat, and swore an aith, excitedly eager inquired genius grave Though I should pawn my pleugh and graith, harness Or die a cadger pownie's death At some dike back, A pint and gill I'd gie them baith To hear your crack. But, first and foremost, I should tell, Amaist as soon as I could spell, I to the crambo-jingle fell, Though rude and rough, Yet crooning to a body's sell, Does weel eneugh. I am nae poet, in a sense, But just a rhymer, like, by chance, And hae to learning nae pretence, Yet, what the matter! Whene'er my Muse does on me glance, pedler chat humming Your critic folk may cock their nose, But, by your leaves, my learned foes, What's a' your jargon o' your schools, What sairs your grammars? Ye'd better taen up spades and shools, A set o' dull conceited hashes, And syne they think to climb Parnassus Gie me ae spark o' Nature's fire! Then though I drudge through dub and mire. My Muse, though hamely in attire, May touch the heart.' "Great Apollo! if thou art in a giving humour, give me—I ask no more—but one stroke of native humour, with a single spark of thy own fire along with it; and send Mercury, with the rules and compasses, if he can be spared, with my compliments to-no matter.'Tristram Shandy. I winna blaw about mysel'; As ill I like my fauts to tell; boast But friends and folk that wish me well, Though I maun own, as monie still But Mauchline race,' or Mauchline fair, And hae a swap o' rhymin'-ware The four-gill chap, we 'se gar him clatter, And, faith, we 'se be acquainted better Awa' ye selfish warly race, praise make christen 2 Wha think that havins, sense, and grace, I dinna like to see your face, Nor hear your crack. But ye whom social pleasure charms, Whose hearts the tide of kindness warms, Who hold your being on the terms, Each aid the others,' Come to my bowl, come to my arms, But, to conclude my lang epistle, While I can either sing or whissle, manners doit conversation Lapraik was not slow to apprehend the value of the offered correspondence. He sent an answer by the hands of his son, 1 This was celebrated on the road adjoining to Burns's farm of Mossgiel. 2 A hearty draught of liquor. * See Appendix, No. 6. who lately lived to relate the circumstances attending its delivery. He found the goodman of Mossgiel in a field engaged in sowing. "I'm no sure if I ken the hand," said Burns as he took the letter; but no sooner had he glanced at its contents, than, unconsciously letting go the sheet containing the grain, it was not till he had finished reading that he discovered the loss he had sustained." Does not the reader delight in this anecdote, so significant of the character of Burns, ever ready and apt to sacrifice the worldly and the professional to the spirits of poetry and of friendship! Without long delay, the poet replied: SECOND EPISTLE TO J. LAPRAIK. April 21, 1785. While new-ca'd kye rowte at the stake, low smoke This hour on e'enin's edge I take, 1 Contemporaries of Burns, p. 26. stupid feeble effusion 2 Braik, a kind of harrow.-Burns's Glossary. More precisely, a heavy harrow; a harrow loaded with a log. It is an implement much used in Ayr and Renfrew shires. Shall bauld Lapraik, the king o' hearts, Yet ye'll neglect to shaw your parts, Sae I gat paper in a blink, And down gaed stumpie in the ink: And if ye winna mak it clink, By Jove I'll prose it!' praise Sae I've begun to scrawl, but whether But I shall scribble down some blether, nonsense off-hand tickle jerk-kick gray can |