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