The Canongate Burns. Robert Burns

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СКАЧАТЬ lads/ Blackguarding from Kilmarnock’ probably belong to the weaving community which was deeply and dissidently radical.

      The poem moves from a celebration of alcohol (ll. 163–71) and the triumph of this earthy spirit over the one of false sanctimony to a triumphant assertion, implicit throughout the poem, of spontaneous eroticism. The experienced women may already be dealing out more than bread and cheese but, assignations made, loss of virginity happily looms at the poem’s end. As Edwin Muir wrote, regarding the ‘sordid and general tyranny’ of the kirk session: ‘it is only necessary to say that the time-honoured Scottish tradition of fornication triumphantly survived all its terrors’ (John Knox, 1930, pp. 306–7).

1 A street so called, which faces the tent in Mauchline. R.B.

2 Shakespeare’s Hamlet, R.B. [Act I, Sc. 5].

3 The Bell Ringer.

       Address to the Deil

      First printed in the Kilmarnock edition, 1786.

       O Prince! O Chief of many thronèd pow’rs!

       That led th’ embattl’d seraphim to war —

      Milton.

      O Thou! whatever title suit thee —

      Auld Hornie, Satan, Nick, or Clootie — old, cloven-hoofed

      Wha in yon cavern grim an’ sootie, who, filled with soot

      Clos’d under hatches,

      5 Spairges about the brunstane cootie, splashes, brimstone dish

      To scaud poor wretches! scald

      Hear me, auld Hangie, for a wee, old hangman, while

      An’ let poor damnèd bodies be;

      I’m sure sma’ pleasure it can gie, give

      10 Ev’n to a deil, devil

      To skelp an’ scaud poor dogs like me hit/slap, scald

      An’ hear us squeel!

      Great is thy pow’r an’ great thy fame;

      Far kend, an’ noted is thy name; known

      15 An’ tho’ yon lowan heugh’s thy hame, moaning, hollow, home

      Thou travels far;

      An’ faith! thou’s neither lag, nor lame, backward

      Nor blate nor scaur. bashful, afraid

      Whyles, ranging like a roarin lion, sometimes

      20 For prey, a’ holes an’ corners tryin;

      Whyles, on the strong-wing’d Tempest flyin,

      Tirlan the Kirks; stripping – attacking

      Whyles, in the human bosom pryin,

      Unseen thou lurks.

      25 I’ve heard my rev’rend Graunie say, grannie

      In lanely glens ye like to stray; lonely

      Or, where auld ruin’d castles grey old

      Nod to the moon,

      Ye fright the nightly wand’rer’s way

      30 Wi’ eldritch croon. unearthly eerie moan

      When twilight did my Graunie summon, grannie

      To say her pray’rs, douce, honest woman! sober/prudent

      Aft yont the dyke she’s heard you bumman, away beyond

      Wi’ eerie drone;

      35 Or, rustlin, thro’ the boortries coman, alder trees coming

      Wi’ heavy groan.

      Ae dreary, windy, winter night, one

      The stars shot down wi’ sklentan light, slanting

      Wi’ you mysel, I gat a fright: got

      40 Ayont the lough, beyond, loch

      Ye, like a rash-buss, stood in sight, bunch of rushes

      Wi’ waving sugh: moan

      The cudgel in my nieve did shake, fist

      Each bristl’d hair stood like a stake;

      45 When wi’ an eldritch, stoor quaick, quaick, unearthly harsh, duck quack

      Amang the springs, among

      Awa ye squatter’d like a drake, away, a noisy take-off

      On whistling wings.

      Let Warlocks grim, an’ wither’d Hags,

      50 Tell how wi’ you, on ragweed nags, ragwort

      They skim the muirs an’ dizzy crags, moors, high peaks

      Wi’ wicked speed;

      And in kirk-yards renew their leagues,

      Owre howket dead. over those raised from the grave

      55 Thence, countra wives, wi’ toil an’ pain, country

      May plunge an’ plunge the kirn in vain; churn

      For Och! the yellow treasure’s taen taken

      By witching skill;

      An’ dawtit, twal-pint Hawkie’s gaen petted, 12-pint cow has gone

      60 As yell’s the Bill. dry, bull

      Thence, mystic knots mak great abuse

      On Young-Guidmen, fond, keen an’ croose; husbands, over confident

      When the best warklum i’ the house, work-tool, penis

      By cantraip wit, magic/evil

      65 Is instant made no worth a louse,

      Just at the bit. stopped before ejaculation

      When thowes dissolve the snawy hoord, thawes, snowy hoard

      An’ float СКАЧАТЬ