ver been excelled, and in it we
have the earliest mention of his Bonnie Jean. In his next poem, _Death
and Dr. Hornbook_, his command of language and artistic phrasing are
more apparent, while pawky humour and genial satire sparkle and flash
from every line. The poem is written in that form of verse which Burns
has made particularly his own. He had become acquainted with it, it is
most likely, in the writings of Fergusson, Ramsay, and Gilbertfield, who
had used it chiefly for comic subjects; but Burns showed that, in his
hands at least, it could be made the vehicle of the most pensive and
tender feeling. In an interesting note to the _Centenary Burns_, edited
by Henley and Henderson, it is pointed out that 'the six-line stave in
rime couee built on two rhymes,' was used by the Troubadours in their
_Chansons de Gestes_, and that it dates at the very latest from the
eleventh century. Burns's happiest use of it was in those epistles which
about this time he began to dash off to some of his friends; and it is
with these epistles that the uninterrupted stream of poetry of this
season may be said properly to begin. Perhaps it was in the use of this
stanza that Burns first discovered his command of rhymes and his
felicity of phrasing. Certain it is, that after his first epistle to
Lapraik, we have epistles, poems, songs, satires flowing from his pen,
uninterrupted for a period, and apparently with marvellous ease. It has
to be remembered, too, that he was now inspired by the dream of becoming
an author--in print. When or where or how, had not been determined; but
the idea was delightful all the same; the hope was inspiration itself.
Some day his work would be published, and he would be read and talked
about! He would have done something for poor auld Scotland's sake. The
one thing now was to make the book, and to that he set himself
deliberately. Poetry was at last to have its chance. Farming had been
tried, with little success. The crops of 1784 had been a failure, and
this year they were hardly more promising. In these discouraging
circumstances the poet was naturally driven in upon himself. His eyes
were turned _ad intra_, and he sought consolation in his Muse. He was
conscious of some poetical ability, and he knew that his compositions
were not destitute of merit. Poetry, too, was to him, and particularly
so at this time, its own exceeding great reward. He rhymed 'for fun';
and probably he was finding in the exercise that ex