On The

RECOVERY OF JESSY LEWARS.

[A little repose brought health to the young lady. "I knew you would not die," observed the poet, with a smile: "there is a poetic reason for your recovery;" he wrote, and with a feeble hand, the following lines.]

But rarely seen since Nature's birth, The natives of the sky; Yet still one seraph's left on earth, For Jessy did not die.

R. B.

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LXXII.

TAM, THE CHAPMAN.

[Tam, the chapman, is said by the late William Cobbett, who knew him, to have been a Thomas Kennedy, a native of Ayrshire, agent to a mercantile house in the west of Scotland. Sir Harris Nicolas confounds him with the Kennedy to whom Burns addressed several letters and verses, which I printed in my edition of the poet in 1834: it is perhaps enough to say that the name of the one was Thomas and the name of the other John.]

As Tam the Chapman on a day, Wi' Death forgather'd by the way, Weel pleas'd he greets a wight so famous, And Death was nae less pleas'd wi' Thomas, Wha cheerfully lays down the pack, And there blaws up a hearty crack; His social, friendly, honest heart, Sae tickled Death they could na part: Sac after viewing knives and garters, Death takes him hame to gie him quarters.

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LXXIII.

[These lines seem to owe their origin to the precept of Mickle.

"The present moment is our ain, The next we never saw."]

Here's a bottle and an honest friend! What wad you wish for mair, man? Wha kens before his life may end, What his share may be o' care, man? Then catch the moments as they fly, And use them as ye ought, man? Believe me, happiness is shy, And comes not ay when sought, man.

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LXXIV.

[The sentiment which these lines express, was one familiar to Burns, in the early, as well as concluding days of his life.]

Though fickle Fortune has deceived me, She promis'd fair and perform'd but ill; Of mistress, friends, and wealth bereav'd me, Yet I bear a heart shall support me still.--

I'll act with prudence as far's I'm able, But if success I must never find, Then come misfortune, I bid thee welcome, I'll meet thee with an undaunted mind.

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LXXV.

TO JOHN KENNEDY.

[The John Kennedy to whom these verses and the succeeding lines were addressed, lived, in 1796, at Dumfries-house, and his taste was so much esteemed by the poet, that he submitted his "Cotter's Saturday Night" and the "Mountain Daisy" to his judgment: he seems to have been of a social disposition.]

Now, Kennedy, if foot or horse E'er bring you in by Mauchline Cross, L--d, man, there's lasses there wad force A hermit's fancy. And down the gate in faith they're worse And mair unchancy.

But as I'm sayin', please step to Dow's, And taste sic gear as Johnnie brews, Till some bit callan bring me news That ye are there, And if we dinna hae a bouze I'se ne'er drink mair.

It's no I like to sit an' swallow, Then like a swine to puke and wallow, But gie me just a true good fellow, Wi' right ingine, And spunkie ance to make us mellow, And then we'll shine.

Now if ye're ane o' warl's folk, Wha rate the wearer by the cloak, An' sklent on poverty their joke Wi' bitter sneer, Wi' you nae friendship I will troke, Nor cheap nor dear.

But if, as I'm informed weel, Ye hate as ill's the very deil The flinty heart that canna feel-- Come, Sir, here's tae you! Hae, there's my haun, I wiss you weel, And gude be wi' you.

ROBERT BURNESS.

Mossgiel, 3 March, 1786.

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LXXVI.

TO JOHN KENNEDY.

Farewell, dear friend! may guid luck hit you, And 'mang her favourites admit you! If e'er Detraction shore to smit you, May nane believe him! And ony deil that thinks to get you, Good Lord deceive him!

R. B.

Kilmarnock, August, 1786

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LXXVII.

[Cromek found these characteristic lines among the poet's papers.]

There's naethin like the honest nappy! Whaur'll ye e'er see men sae happy, Or women, sonsie, saft an' sappy, 'Tween morn an' morn As them wha like to taste the drappie In glass or horn?

I've seen me daezt upon a time; I scarce could wink or see a styme; Just ae hauf muchkin does me prime, Ought less is little, Then back I rattle on the rhyme, As gleg's a whittle.

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LXXVIII.