But fairer still my Delia dawns,
More lovely far her beauty blows.
Sweet the lark's wild-warbled lay,
Sweet the tinkling rill to hear;
But, Delia, more delightful still
Steal thine accents on mine ear.
The flow'r-enamoured busy bee
The rosy banquet loves to sip;
Sweet the streamlet's limpid lapse
To the sun-brown'd Arab's lip;--
But, Delia, on thy balmy lips
Let me, no vagrant insect, rove!
O, let me steal one liquid kiss!
For, oh! my soul is parch'd with love.
* * * * *
CIV.
TO JOHN M'MURDO, ESQ.
[John M'Murdo, Esq., one of the chamberlains of the Duke of
Queensberry, lived at Drumlanrig: he was a high-minded, warm-hearted
man, and much the friend of the poet. These lines accompanied a
present of books: others were added soon afterwards on a pane of glass
in Drumlanrig castle.
"Blest be M'Murdo to his latest day!
No envious cloud o'ercast his evening ray;
No wrinkle furrowed by the hand of care,
Nor ever sorrow add one silver hair!
O may no son the father's honour stain,
Nor ever daughter give the mother pain."
How fully the poet's wishes were fulfilled need not be told to any one
acquainted with the family.]
O, could I give thee India's wealth,
As I this trifle send!
Because thy joy in both would be
To share them with a friend.
But golden sands did never grace
The Heliconian stream;
Then take what gold could never buy--
An honest Bard's esteem.
* * * * *
CV.
PROLOGUE,
SPOKEN AT THE THEATRE, DUMFRIES,
1 JAN. 1790.
[This prologue was written in December, 1789, for Mr. Sutherland, who
recited it with applause in the little theatre of Dumfries, on
new-year's night. Sir Harris Nicolas, however, has given to Ellisland
the benefit of a theatre! and to Burns the whole barony of Dalswinton
for a farm!]
No song nor dance I bring from yon great city
That queens it o'er our taste--the more's the pity:
Tho', by-the-by, abroad why will you roam?
Good sense and taste are natives here at home:
But not for panegyric I appear,
I come to wish you all a good new year!
Old Father Time deputes me here before ye,
Not for to preach, but tell his simple story:
The sage grave ancient cough'd, and bade me say,
"You're one year older this important day."
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