my
business
torments me, and my sins come staring me
in the face, every one telling a more bitter tale than his
fellow.
in the face, every one telling a more bitter tale than his
fellow.
Robert Burns
The sables I did
myself the honour to wear to his lordship's memory, were not the
"mockery of woe. " Nor shall my gratitude perish with me! --if among my
children I shall have a son that has a heart, he shall hand it down to
his child as a family honour, and a family debt, that my dearest
existence I owe to the noble house of Glencairn!
I was about to say, my lady, that if you think the poem may venture to
see the light, I would, in some way or other, give it to the world.
R. B.
* * * * *
CCXXII.
TO MR. AINSLIE.
[It has been said that the poet loved to aggravate his follies to his
friends: but that this tone of aggravation was often ironical, this
letter, as well as others, might be cited. ]
_Ellisland, 1791. _
MY DEAR AINSLIE,
Can you minister to a mind diseased? can you, amid the horrors of
penitence, remorse, head-ache, nausea, and all the rest of the d----d
hounds of hell, that beset a poor wretch, who has been guilty of the
sin of drunkenness--can you speak peace to a troubled soul?
_Miserable perdu_ that I am, I have tried everything that used to
amuse me, but in vain: here must I sit, a monument of the vengeance
laid up in store for the wicked, slowly counting every chick of the
clock as it slowly, slowly, numbers over these lazy scoundrels of
hours, who, d----n them, are ranked up before me, every one at his
neighbour's backside, and every one with a burthen of anguish on his
back, to pour on my devoted head--and there is none to pity me. My
wife scolds me!
my business torments me, and my sins come staring me
in the face, every one telling a more bitter tale than his
fellow. --When I tell you even * * * has lost its power to please, you
will guess something of my hell within, and all around me--I begun
_Elibanks and Elibraes_, but the stanzas fell unenjoyed, and
unfinished from my listless tongue: at last I luckily thought of
reading over an old letter of yours, that lay by me in my book-case,
and I felt something for the first time since I opened my eyes, of
pleasurable existence. ---- Well--I begin to breathe a little, since I
began to write to you. How are you, and what are you doing? How goes
Law? Apropos, for connexion's sake, do not address to me supervisor,
for that is an honour I cannot pretend to--I am on the list, as we
call it, for a supervisor, and will be called out by and bye to act as
one; but at present, I am a simple gauger, tho' t'other day I got an
appointment to an excise division of 25_l. per annum_ better than the
rest. My present income, down money, is 70_l. per annum. _
I have one or two good fellows here whom you would be glad to know.
R. B.
* * * * *
CCXXIII.
TO COL. FULLARTON.
OF FULLARTON.
myself the honour to wear to his lordship's memory, were not the
"mockery of woe. " Nor shall my gratitude perish with me! --if among my
children I shall have a son that has a heart, he shall hand it down to
his child as a family honour, and a family debt, that my dearest
existence I owe to the noble house of Glencairn!
I was about to say, my lady, that if you think the poem may venture to
see the light, I would, in some way or other, give it to the world.
R. B.
* * * * *
CCXXII.
TO MR. AINSLIE.
[It has been said that the poet loved to aggravate his follies to his
friends: but that this tone of aggravation was often ironical, this
letter, as well as others, might be cited. ]
_Ellisland, 1791. _
MY DEAR AINSLIE,
Can you minister to a mind diseased? can you, amid the horrors of
penitence, remorse, head-ache, nausea, and all the rest of the d----d
hounds of hell, that beset a poor wretch, who has been guilty of the
sin of drunkenness--can you speak peace to a troubled soul?
_Miserable perdu_ that I am, I have tried everything that used to
amuse me, but in vain: here must I sit, a monument of the vengeance
laid up in store for the wicked, slowly counting every chick of the
clock as it slowly, slowly, numbers over these lazy scoundrels of
hours, who, d----n them, are ranked up before me, every one at his
neighbour's backside, and every one with a burthen of anguish on his
back, to pour on my devoted head--and there is none to pity me. My
wife scolds me!
my business torments me, and my sins come staring me
in the face, every one telling a more bitter tale than his
fellow. --When I tell you even * * * has lost its power to please, you
will guess something of my hell within, and all around me--I begun
_Elibanks and Elibraes_, but the stanzas fell unenjoyed, and
unfinished from my listless tongue: at last I luckily thought of
reading over an old letter of yours, that lay by me in my book-case,
and I felt something for the first time since I opened my eyes, of
pleasurable existence. ---- Well--I begin to breathe a little, since I
began to write to you. How are you, and what are you doing? How goes
Law? Apropos, for connexion's sake, do not address to me supervisor,
for that is an honour I cannot pretend to--I am on the list, as we
call it, for a supervisor, and will be called out by and bye to act as
one; but at present, I am a simple gauger, tho' t'other day I got an
appointment to an excise division of 25_l. per annum_ better than the
rest. My present income, down money, is 70_l. per annum. _
I have one or two good fellows here whom you would be glad to know.
R. B.
* * * * *
CCXXIII.
TO COL. FULLARTON.
OF FULLARTON.
