ENGLISH POETRY 1579-1830: SPENSER AND THE TRADITION
, "Burns, to a Rose, brought from near Alloway Kirk, in Ayrshire, in the Autumn of 1822" Poetical Writings, ed. Wilson (1869) 22-29.
1786: Henry Mackenzie
1787: J. B.
1787: Helen Maria Williams
1787: William Cowper
1787: Anna Seward
1788: Gavin Turnbull
1788: J. J-n
1788: J. R-d
1788: James Maxwell
1788: James Macaulay
1789: Rev. Thomas Blacklock
1791: William Gifford
1791 ca.: James Graham
1791: Thomas Scotus
1791: Helen Maria Williams
1792: Samuel Thomson
1793: William Yates
1794: Rev. James Grahame
1796: William Roscoe
1796 ca.: Charlotte Smith
1796: J. H.
1796: Alexander Balfour
1796: W. B.
1796: E. Hyslop
1796: A Lady
1796: An Auld Fifeshire Ploughman
1797: A. W.
1797: William Hamilton Reid
1797: Edward Rushton
1797: William Roscoe
1797: A Mourner
1797: Thomas Mounsey Cunningham
1798: John Struthers
1798: David Crawford
1800: Charles Lamb
1800: William Roscoe
1800: J. F. D.
1800: Thomas Sanderson
1802: Leigh Hunt
1802: James Pace
1803: William Wordsworth
1804: David Irving
1805: Rev. Henry Boyd
1805: A. M. A.
1805: J. G. Bagshaw
1805: Thomas Stott
1806: Sir Samuel Egerton Brydges
1806: John Struthers
1806: Alexander Wilson
1806: H. C.
1806: Hamilton Paul
1807: William Wordsworth
1807: Lady Anne Hamilton
1807: Robert Tannahill
1807: A. M. P.
1808: John-Henry Kenney
1808: A Young Lady of Sixteen
1809: A Caledonian
1810: Robert Tannahill
1812: George Dyer
1812: A. Kyne
1813: Mary Russell Mitford
1813: Lord Byron
1814: Earl of Buchan
1814: W. Jos. Walter
1815: William Henry Ireland
1816: George Colman the Younger
1816: Thomas Campbell
1816: John Mayne
1816: T. W. Lake
1816: An English Lady
1817: Hugh Campbell
1818: John Keats
1818: Charles Lamb
1818: John Keats
1818: S. A. N.
1818: A Lowland Laddie
1818: Richard Hatt
1819: John Wilson
1819: James Thomson of London
1819: A Literary Gentleman
1819: John Gibson Lockhart
1820: Samuel Taylor Coleridge
1820: James Montgomery
1820: Nicholas Toms Carrington
1820: James Boswell the Younger
1820: W. G.
1821: Mary Leman Rede
1821: Anne Powell
1822: Fitz-Greene Halleck
1822: James B. Sheys
1822: J. D. C.
1823: Rev. William Gillespie
1824: William Hazlitt
1824: Allan Cunningham
1824: Bryan Waller Procter
1825 ca.: Henry Mackenzie
1825: James B. Sheys
1825: Allan Cunningham
1826: Herbert Barton
1826: Richard Ryan
1827: Sir Walter Scott
1828: Walter Savage Landor
1828: Thomas Carlyle
1829: Anna Brownell Jameson
1829: J. S.
1830 ca.: Rev. Henry Francis Cary
1830: Rev. George Barrell Cheever
1831: John Wilson
1832: James Hogg
1833: James Montgomery
1836: L. L.
1840: Thomas Carlyle
1842: Robert Story
1842: C. H. Timperley
1843: John Holland
1844: John Wilson
1844: Dr. David Macbeth Moir
1851: Dr. David Macbeth Moir
1866: Bryan Waller Procter
1880: John Service
1882: Epes Sargent
1821: Joseph Rodman Drake
1822: Robert Burns
1831: Thomas Campbell
Wild Rose of Alloway! my thanks;
Thou 'mindst me of that autumn noon
When first we met upon "the banks
And braes o' bonny Doon."
Like thee, beneath the thorn-tree's bough,
My sunny hour was glad and brief,
We've crossed the winter sea, and thou
Art withered — flower and leaf.
And will not thy death-bloom be mine—
The doom of all things wrought of clay—
And withered my life's leaf like thine,
Wild rose of Alloway?
Not so his memory, for whose sake
My bosom bore thee far and long,
His — who a humbler flower could make
Immortal as his song.
The memory of Burns — a name
That calls, when brimmed her festal cup,
A nation's glory and her shame,
In silent sadness up.
A nation's glory — be the rest
Forgot — she's canonized his mind;
And it is joy to speak the best
We may of human kind.
I've stood beside the cottage-bed
Where the Bard-peasant first drew breath;
A straw-thatched roof above his head,
A straw-wrought couch beneath.
And I have stood beside the pile,
His monument — that tells to Heaven
The homage of earth's proudest isle
To that Bard-peasant given!
Bid thy thoughts hover o'er that spot,
Boy-minstrel, in thy dreaming hour;
And know, however low thy lot,
A Poet's pride and power:
The pride that lifted Burns from earth,
The power that give a child of song
Ascendancy o'er rank and birth,
The rich, the brave, the strong;
And if despondency weight down
Thy spirit's fluttering pinions then,
Despair — thy name is written on
The roll of common men.
There have been loftier themes than his,
And longer scrolls, and louder lyres,
And lays lit up with Poesy's
Purer and holier fires:
Yet read the names that know not death;
Few nobler ones than Burns are there;
And few have won a greener wreath
Than that which binds his hair.
His is the language of the heart,
In which the answering heart would speak,
Thought, word, that bids the warm tear start,
Or the smile light the cheek;
And his that music, to whose tone
The common pulse of man keeps time,
In cot or castle's mirth or moan,
In cold or sunny clime.
And who hath heard his song, nor knelt
Before its spell with willing knee,
And listened, and believed, and felt
The Poet's mastery
O'er the mind's sea, in calm and storm,
O'er the heart's sunshine and its showers,
O'er Passion's moments bright and warm,
O'er Reason's dark, cold hours;
On fields where brave men "die or do,"
In halls where rings the banquet's mirth,
Where mourners weep, where lovers woo,
From throne to cottage-heath?
What sweet tears dim the eye unshed,
What wild vows falter on the tongue,
When "Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled,"
Or "Auld Lang Syne" is sung!
Pure hopes, that lift the soul above,
Come with his Cotter's hymn of praise,
And dreams of youth, and truth, and love,
With "Logan's" banks and braes.
And when he breathes his master-lay
Of Alloway's witch-haunted wall,
All passions in our frames of clay
Come thronging at his call.
Imagination's world of air,
And our own world, its gloom and glee,
Wit, pathos, poetry, are there,
And death's sublimity.
And Burns — though brief the race he ran,
Though rough and dark the path he trod,
Lived — died — in form and soul a Man,
The image of his God.
Through care, and pain, and want, and woe,
With wounds that only death could heal,
Tortures — the poor alone can know,
The proud alone can feel;
He kept his honesty and truth,
His independent tongue and pen,
And moved, in manhood as in youth,
Pride of his fellow-men.
Strong sense, deep feeling, passions strong,
A hate of tyrant and of knave,
A love of right, a scorn of wrong,
Of coward and of slave;
A kind, true heart, a spirit high,
That could not fear and would not bow,
Were written in his manly eye
And on his manly brow.
Praise to the bard! his words are driven,
Like flower-seeds by the far winds sown,
Where'er, beneath the sky of heaven,
The birds of fame have flown.
Praise to the man! a nation stood
Beside his coffin with wet eyes,
Her brave, her beautiful, her good,
As when a loved one dies.
And still, as on his funeral day,
Men stand his cold earth-couch around,
With the mute homage that we pay
To consecrated ground.
And consecrated ground it is,
The last, the hallowed home of one
Who lives upon all memories,
Though with the buried gone.
Such graves as his are pilgrim-shrines,
Shrines to no code or creed confined—
The Delphian vales, the Palestines,
The Meccas of the mind.
Sages, with wisdom's garland wreathed,
Crowned kings, and mitred priests of power,
And warriors with their bright swords sheathed,
The mightiest of the hour;
And lowlier names, whose humble home
Is lit by fortune's dimmer star,
Are there — o'er wave and mountain come,
From countries near and far;
Pilgrims whose wandering feet have pressed
The Switzer's snow, the Arab's sand,
Or trod the piled leaves of the West,
My own green forest-land.
All ask the cottage of his birth,
Gaze on the scenes he loved and sung,
And gather feelings not of earth
His fields and streams among.
They linger by the Doon's low trees,
And pastoral Nith, and wooded Ayr,
And round thy sepulchres, Dumfries!
The poet's tomb is there.
But what to them the sculptor's art,
His funeral columns, wreaths, and urns?
Wear they not graven on the heart
The name of Robert Burns?