Robert Burns - Part 4

These pages parallel the life of Robert Burns, so for best effect they should be read in the order in which they appeared, i.e., Part 1, Part 2, etc.


A Poet’s Welcome To His Love-Begotten Daughter
The first instance that entitled him to the Venerable Appellation of Father

Thou’s welcome, wean, mishanter fa’ me,             mishap
If thought of thee, or of thy mammy,
Shall ever daunton me or awe me,                        daunt
                   My sweet wee lady.
Or if I blush when thou shalt ca’ me                      shall
                   Ti-ta or daddy.

Tho’ now they ca’ me fornicator                            call
And tease my name in kintry clatter,                    country chatter
The mair they talk, I’m kent the better,                  more, known
                   E’en let them clash;                         gossip
An auld wife’s tongue’s a feckless matter
                   To gie and lash.                               Give, one trouble

Welcome! my bonnie, sweet, wee dochter,
Tho’ ye come here a wee unsought for,
And tho’ your comin’ I hae fought for,
                   Baith Kirk and queir;                        Both
Yet, by my faith, ye’re no unwrought for,
                   That I shall swear!

Sweet fruit o’ moni a merry dint,                          many
My funny toil is now a’ tint,
Sin, thou came to the warl’ asklent,                     world, askew
                   Which fools may scoff at;
In my last plack thy part’s be in ’t
                   The better ha’f o’t.                           of it.

Tho’ I should be the waur bestead,                      worst circumstanced
Thou’s be as braw and bienly clad,                     comfortably
And thy young years as nicely bred
                    Wi’ education,
As onie brat o’ wedlock’s bed,                            any
                    In a’ thy station.

Wee image o’ my bonnie Betty,
I, fatherly will kiss and daut thee,                        fondle
As dear an’ near my heart I set thee
                    Wi as guid will                              good
As a’ the priests had seen me get thee
                    That’s out o’ hell.

Lord grant that thou may ay inherit
Thy mither’s person, grace and merit,
An’ thy poor, worthless daddy’s spirit,
                    Without his failins,                         failings
‘Twill please me mair to see the heir it,
                    Than stockit mailens.                    stocked holdings

For if thou be what I wad hae thee,
And tak the counsel I shall gie thee,                   take
I’ll never rue my troubles wi’ thee,
                     The cost nor shame o’t,
But be a loving father to thee,
                     And brag the name o’t.
_____

     Green Grow The Rashes

Chorus: Green Grow the rashes, O;
   Green grow the rashes O;
The sweetest hours that e’er I spent,
   Were spent amang the lasses, O.

There’s nought but care on ev’ry han’,
   In e’ery hour that passes, O:
What signifies the life O’ man,
   An ‘twere na for the lasses, O.

The warly race may riches chase,
   An’ riches still may fly them, O;
An’ tho’ at last they catch them fast,   
   Their hearts can ne’er enjoy them, O.

But gie me a cannie hour at e’en,
   My arms about my dearie, O;
An’ warly cares, an’ warly men,
   May a’ gae tapsalterrie, O!

For you sae douce, ye sneer at this,
   Ye’re nought but senseless asses, O;
The wises man the warl’ e’er saw,
   He dearly lov’d the lasses, O.

Auld nature swears, the lovely dears
   Her noblest work she classes, O:
Her prentice han’ she try’d on man,
   An’ then she made the lasses, O.
_____

And this, after the birth of his daughter Elizabeth to Jean Armour in November 1792, (of which there are three versions), this being the final one.

          The Banks O’ Doon

Ye banks and braes o’ bonnie Doon,
   How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair?
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
   And I sae weary fu’ o’ care!
Thou’ll break my heart, thou warbling bird,
   That wantons thro’ the flowering thorn:
Thou minds me o’ departed joys,
   Departed never to return.

Aft hae I rov’d by Bonnie Doon,
   To see the rose and woodbine twine:
And ilka bird sang o’ its Luve,
   And fondly sae did I o’ mine;
Wi’ lightsome heart I pu’d a rose,
   Fu’ sweet upon its thorny tree!
And may fause Luver staw my rose,
   But ah! he left the thorn wi’ me.
_____

In August 1788 Robert Burns “regularised” his relationship with Jean Armour to the satisfaction of the Kirk. (Church). Prior to this, she had two sets of twins by Robert; in 1786 a boy and girl, and in 1788, twin girls, both of whom, died within the month. In 1789 they had a son Francis Wallace, and two years later, another son, William Nicol. In 1792 they had a daughter Elizabeth, and in 1794 another son, James Glencairn. In 1795, and just before her third birthday, Elizabeth died. Then on 25 July 1796, Jean give birth to a son, Maxwell. All told, in a period of ten years, they had nine children. And Maxwell was born on the day that Robert Burns was buried.

In August 1788 Robert Burns “regularised” his relationship with Jean Armour to the satisfaction of the Kirk. (Church). Prior to this, she had two sets of twins by Robert; in 1786 a boy and girl, and in 1788, twin girls, both of whom, died within the month. In 1789 they had a son Francis Wallace, and two years later, another son, William Nicol. In 1792 they had a daughter Elizabeth, and in 1794 another son, James Glencairn. In 1795, and just before her third birthday, Elizabeth died. Then on 25 July 1796, Jean give birth to a son, Maxwell. All told, in a period of ten years, they had nine children. And Maxwell was born on the day that Robert Burns was buried.

For most families this would have been history enough, but for the Burns’s there was more. After it was known that Jean Armour was pregnant, Burns met and fell in love with Mary Campbell, whom he promised to marry, but, who died from a fever while pregnant. And he proposed marriage to two other women. While learning the art of flax dressing at Irvine, he proposed to Allison Bogbie and later, (after Jean Armour had twins by him), and he had had another daughter by Meg Cameron, he proposed marriage to Margaret Chalmers. And not withstanding these failed attempts at finding a wife, and before his marriage to Jean Armour, he had yet another child, this time, by Jenny Chow. Then, in 1791 around the time that Jean gave birth to William, she took into her home, another child, Elizabeth, born to an Edinburgh barmaid by the name of Anna Park. And paralleling these relationships, was his association with Mrs. Maclehose, who is represented in his poems as Clarinda.

For all these reasons, Burns was, and still is, perceived by many as a rake. So what we must wonder, does his poetry tell us, about the women with whom he was particularly intimate.

The first of them was Alison Bogbie to whom he wrote this, while he waited for her response to his proposal of marriage:

“Once you are convinced I am sincere I am perfectly certain you have too much goodness and humanity to allow an honest man to languish in suspense only because he loves you too well. And I am certain that in such a state of anxiety, as I myself at present feel, an absolute denial would be a much preferable state.”

         Bonnie Peggy Alison
(Tune-The Braes o’ Balaquhidder)

Chorus: And I’ll kiss thee yet, yet,
   And I’ll kiss thee o’er again:
And I’ll kiss thee yet, yet,
   My bonnie Peggy Alison.

When in my arms, wi’ a’ thy charms,
   I clasp my countless treasure, O!
I seek nae mair o’ Heaven to share
   Than sic a moment’s pleasure, O!

Ilk care and fear, when thou art near
   I ever mair defy them, O!
Young kings upon their hansel throne
   Are no sae blest as I am, O!

And by the een sae bonnie blue,
   I swear I’m thine for ever, O!
And on thy lips I seal my vow,
   And break it shall I never, O!
_____

And these for Jean Armour:
  
           The Belles Of Mauchline

In Mauchline there dwells six proper young belles,
   The pride of the place and its neighbourhood a’;
Their carriage and dress, a stranger would guess,
   In Lon’on or Paris, they’d gotten it a’,
Miss miller is fine, Miss Markland’s divine,
   Miss Smith she has wit, and Miss Betty is braw:
There’s beauty and fortune to get wi’ Miss Morton,
   But Armour’s the jewel for me o’ them a’.
_____

        I Love My Jean

Of a’ the iirts the wind can blaw,
   I dearly like the west,
For there the bonnie lassie lives,
   The lassie I lo’e best:
There’s wild-woods grow, and rivers row,
   And mony a hill between:
But day and night my fancys’ flight
   Is ever wi’ my Jean.

I see her in the dewy flowers,
   I see her sweet and fair:
I hear her in the tunefu’ birds,
   I hear her charm the air:
There’s not a bonnie flower that springs,
   By fountain, shaw or green;
There’s not a bonnie bird that sings,
   But minds me o’ my Jean.
_____
As he became more well known, especially through the publication of his poems, Burns paid several visits to Edinburgh. There, besides being introduced to the notables in society, he became acquainted with Mrs. (Nancy) Maclheose. A grass widow, she and Burns embarked on a complex emotional affair: patchy and tetchy at times, on Mrs. Maclheose part. But in essence, the affair was platonic. In Burns’s poems she appears as Clarinda. In 1791 and after they had parted for the last time, burns wrote, “A Fond Kiss”, though the part was not as heart-wrenching as the poet’s imagination allows for

      Ae Fond Kiss
(Tune-Rory Dall’s port).

Ae fond kiss, and then we sever;
Ae fareweel, alas, for ever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I’ll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I’ll wage thee.
Who shall say that fortune grieves him,
While the star of hope she leaves him?
Me, nae cheerfu’ twinkle lights me;
Dark despair around benights me.

I’ll ne’er blame my partial fancy:
Naething could resist my Nancy!
But to see her was to love her,
Love but her and love for ever.
Had we never lov’d sae kindly,
Had we never lov’d sae blindly,
Never met—or never parted—
We had ne’er been broken-hearted.

Fare-thee-weel, thou first and fairest!
Fare-thee-weel, thou best and dearest!
Thine be ilka a joy and treasure,
Peace, enjoyment, love and pleasure!
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever!
Ae fareweel, alas, for ever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I’ll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I’ll wage thee.
_____

In the broad scheme of things, we are but part way; something that will become appreciate as I consider the way ahead. To begin with, I want to look at Burns perceptions of himself as a writer, before moving on to that period in his life when he considered abandoning writing altogether, in the belief that he could make his fortune as an overseer on a plantation in Jamaica. Not only did this not happen, but there were those who worked to keep Burns and his unique talent in Scotland. After that, I would like to share with you, some of those poems and songs connected to his time in Edinburgh, before concluding with a selection of poems from the latter and trouble years of his life.

Although in the early years, Burns had doubts about the relevance of his work, and in particular, about having it published, this next poem captures the all consuming nature of his craft:

O Were I On Parnassus Hill
(Tune – My love is lost to me)

O were I on Parnassus Hill,
Or had o’ Helicon my fill,
That I might catch poetic skill,
   To sing how dear I love thee!
But Nith maun be my Muse’s well                   must, fine
My Muse maun be thy bonnie sel’:                  must, self
On Corsincon I’ll glowr and spell,                    Corsica ?
   And write how dear I love thee.

Then come, sweet Muse, inspire my lay!
For a’ the lee-lang simmer’s day,                    live-long
I couldna sing, I couldna say,                         could not
   Ho much, how dear, I love thee.
I see thee dancing o’er the green—
Thy waist sae jimp, thy limbs sae clean,         small
Thy tempting lips, thy roguish een—               eyes
   By Heaven and Earth I love thee!

By night, by day, a-field, at hame,                  home
The thoughts o’ thee my breast inflame;
And aye I muse and sing thy name—
   I only live to love thee.
Tho’ I were doom’d to wander on,
Beyond the sea, beyond the sun;
Till my last weary sand was run—
   Till then—and then I love thee!

__________________

© Cormac McCloskey

Note: This blog, "Robert Burns - Part 4" was first published on Windows Live Spaces, by me, on 11th February 2006