Marshals and Bushbys2 then had fund The heart-scad, and a scud o' wund Had Horace liv'd, that pleasant sinner, The drink wad round Parnassus rin her Nae mnair he'd sung to auld Mecænas Which Jove and a' his gods still rain us O! Jove, man! gie's some orro pence, I'd big to you a rural spence, And bide a' simmer; And cauld frae saul and body fence Wi' frequent brimmer! 1 The chief innkeepers in Dumfries. The descendants of the latter form the burden of several of Burns's stinging Epigrams. TO MY AULD BREEKS. [This poem was the last Scottish piece of Fergusson's which appeared in the 'Magazine:' and only his 'Last Will' and 'Codicil' followed. He was very soon missed in the 'poet's corner,' as appears from a Postscript to a communication in the Magazine, dated Lanark, February 7th, 1773. It is as follows: Pray is your agreeable poet R. F. quite sunk, or dead in law? A lady told me, if he is to write any more, she would handsomely subscribe, that he might not want a pair of new breeks.'1 "Handsomely subscribe!" What said Robert Burns? "My curse upon your whunstane hearts, Ye E'nbrugh gentry! The tythe o' what ye waste at cartes Wad stow'd his pantry!" 2 Now gae your wa's-Tho' anes as gude 1 Weekly Magazine, Vol. xxiii. p. 272. 2 Burns's Epistle to William Simpson 1785. 3 The Rev. James Nicol, already quoted, in an Address to Poverty' very forcibly fills up this picture. He personifies Poverty, and addresses him thus: I see thee, shiverin', wrinklet, auld, Cour owre a spunk that dies wi' cauld, Thy knees an' elbows, lookin bauld Wi' ae-e'ed specks, an' that e'e crackit, Vol. I. p. 48 sq. To bang the birr o' winter's anger, Sicklike some weary wight will fill You needna wag your duds o' clouts, Nor fa' into your dorty pouts, To think that erst you've hain'd my tail Yet gratefu' hearts, to make amends, Wi' you I've speel'd the braes o' rime, Whare for the time the Muse ne'er cares For siller, or sic guilefu' wares, Wi' whilk we drumly grow, and crabbit, You've seen me round the bickers reel1 And face sae apen, free and blyth, Cou'd Prick-the-house but be sae handy Now speed you to some madam's chaumer, In hidling ways to wear the breeks? For this mair faults nor yours can screen 1 In a printed, but unpublished versified letter which Mr. Thomas Ruddiman addressed to Burns immediately on the appearance of the Kilmarnock or first edition of his poems, he makes some touching allusions to Fergusson: and in one stanza introduces the line to which this note is appended. It is as follows: Poor Fergusson! I kent him weel, An' lilt his sang, An' crack his joke, sae pat an' leal, Ye'd ne'er thocht lang. Or if some bard in lucky times, Glowr in his face, like spectre gaunt, To cow his daffin and his pleasure, So Philip, it is said, who wou'd ring A tiny servant o' his ha', To tell him to improve his span, For Philip was, like him, a man. AULD REIKIE. [This poem of 'Auld Reikie' was intended to be of considerable length. The lines down to "Our New City spreads around, her bonny wings on fairy ground" were published as a small tract in 1773, as 'Canto I.' with the following modest dedication to Sir William Forbes, Baronet: "To Sir William Forbes, Baronet, this poem is most respectfully dedicated, by his most obedient and very humble servant, the Author." Dr. Irving tells us, (though without stating his authority,) that Sir William despised "The poor ovations of a minstrel's praise," and that the result was, that unencouraged, the design was left incompleted. The few additions and corrections first appeared in Ruddiman's supplement to Part I. of the Poems 1779.] AULD Reikie! 1 wale o' ilka town That Scotland kens beneath the moon; 1 This highly appropriate popular soubriquet cannot be traced beyond |