ENGLISH POETRY 1579-1830: SPENSER AND THE TRADITION
A Caledonian, "Verses written in 1786, when the celebrated Robert Burns had bid farewell to his native Country, and was about to emigrate to Jamaica" Scots Magazine 71 (November 1809) 845-46.
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
1809: Robert Burns
Hail, sweetest bard! sae lately ken't,
Now formaist on the Thistley bent,
Thy artless notes ding a' in prent,
They gar ane glow'r;
In raptures wi' them aft I've spent,
A happy hour.
When Winter wi' his drouket pow
Howls whistlen o'er the witter'd knowe,
And roaren mak's the burn to rowe;
The frantic form
Thou paints, my fancy, soon taks lowe
And rides the storm.
When smiling Spring, wi' lilies crown'd,
Strews her white daisies thick around,
The woodlands ring, I catch the sound
From every tree;
From glen to glen I skip and bound,
And follow thee.
I follow thee, and fondly stray
Where rosy summer, blyth and gay,
Half naked 'mang the tedded hay,
In mirth and glee,
Dances and sports the hours away,
And sings wi' thee.
And when thou hails, at dewy morn,
The warbler on the spangled thorn,
The winding path and yellow corn,
On wand'ring Ayr,
Away, sweet bard, wi' thee I'm borne,
I know not where.
'Neath yon ag'd Elm at noon I ly,
Doon's bonnie waters wimplin' by,
There mark thy Muse unrivall'd fly
By haunted streams,
Catching the glow that from the eye
Of beauty beams.
And when in sober mantle clad
Sweet Evening comes, celestial maid,
I trace thee to the lowly shed,
The peaceful cot,
Where Cherubs crown the Patriarch's head,
And bless the spot.
Or catch the strains thy fancy pours,
When fairy bands at moon-light hours
Frisk frae yon moul'dring roofless tow'rs
In gowns sae green,
To strew the cottar's path wi' flowers,
Or when Tam's drouth, sae ill to slocken,
His vera hindmost mate had brocken,
And on his beast, the beast sat rocken,
Through mirk and mire,
The clouds in fury 'round him bocken,
Hail, rain and fire.
The tempest ragen through the wood,
And roaren in the rising flood,
Auld Cloots himsel' in merry mood
Whisken before him,
To right and left, fiends yellen loud
In triumph o'er him.
And Spunkie in the mosses blinken,
Spectres in dizens round him jinken,
And warlocks to their doxies winken,
The Coof to flee,
Safe's man thou'd scaur the hardiest thinken
What drinkers' dree.
Ye tuneful nine, frae moors and fells,
(For there sweet Poesy aft dwells,)
Gae fetch a wreath o' heather-bells,
And vi'lets blue;
Twine gowans in't, and row't in ells
'Round Robin's brow.
O! Fortune, smile and kiss him yet!
Down wi' his sails tho' they be set,
If worth can e'er thy favour get,
Or catch thine e'e,
Or tears can plead, thou'll never let
Burns owr're the sea.
Poor Scotia on the barren wild
Sits weeping o'er her darling child,
Neglected, friendless, starv'd and toil'd,
'Gainst want nae shield,
Forc'd for to seek some climate mild,
Some warmer bield.
Adown the hawthorn blossom'd vale
The lily white, the primrose pale,
May waste their fragrance on the gale,
And drop unseen,
But ah! can suffering merit fail
To find a frien'.
Shall BURNS, immortal, matchless chiel',
Yon sunny heights nae langer speel,
Nor braes, whare he has pip'd sae leel,
Could charm a' nature round to feel
His music strike.
The shipwreck'd boy benumb'd and wet
Has oft again to life been het,
The slender bark's no aye owre-set
When ocean roars;
May his not find some harbour yet
On these bleak shores.
Ye Embro' lads, sae deep in skill,
Ye hae the art his ail to kill,
Your kindness kirsten'd wi' a gill
Might gi'et the fling,
And yet gar ilka shaw, and hill,
It cannot sure attach to you,
To skreen his laurels frae the dew,
Shed then your beams around him now,
Your heat impart;
And foil the storm that would subdue,
An honest heart.
Haste wipe the tear frae Scotland's e'e,
O! keep her dautet bairn a wee,
Sic native worth out owr'e the sea
Maun ne'er be hurl'd,
Rin, hap your Poet coziely,
And brag the world.