Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1885-12-07
Burns.

Hail tae the bard! wha did belang
Tae nae mere class or clan;
But did maintain and not in vain
The Brotherhood o. Man:
The King o. Herts! who did far mair
Tae knit us tae ilkither
Than oor lang line (some cat divine)
o. Kings a put thegither.
An what although he may be puir,
On RIGHT he takes his stand,
An bears him VII the very air
Door ain mountain land:
His mission is VII wrang tae cops,
An bid it tae depart
Anew to kindle love an hope
In the despairing heart.
Tae what plain common sense e'as RIGHT
Nae sophistry can win him
An daurs tae speak WI a. his micht
The burning thochts within him;
His sense o. RIGHT, his sense o. wrang,
His love o. humble warth,
He poured in an immortal sang
That's ringing roun the earth:
For intellectually sublime,
This humble peasant saw, that
Despite distinctions here, in time
''A mans man for a. that"
And if there was man on earth
Wha had his detestation,
Twas he who measured men by birth,
'An worshiped rank an station;
For after hOnOurS we Wad sneak,
An he'd defend the wrang,
An he wad trample on the weak,
An truckle tae the strang;
Stick ribbons in the button hole,
An gartens at his knee,
An his bit trife a. sowl
Gang perfectly a-gley.
But still despite o. a. the wrang
That comes by human blindness,
The spirit o. the peasants sang
Is pity, love an kindness:
He pities e'en the warst O. folk,
For even some o. them
WI a. their flaws he fms mair cause
Tae pity than condemn:
An for the outcast everywhere,
He had hert tae feel
An had some sympathy to spare,
E'en for the very Dell,
Tho in the grasp o'poverty
WI "a its wants an fears,
His hert o'erfiows for ither's woes
As 'twere fount o. tears.
Fen when he sees Il needless pang
Glen to the brute creation,
He wha inflict'st maun bide the stang
o. his reused Indignation;
The thochtless youth cannot escape
Who wounds the harmless "Hare,"
For mercy in the PEASANTS shape
Stands forth protesting there.
His sangs has something in their SCUM
That fills the hert an e'e;
Eye banks an braes o. bonnie Doom
Are magic words to me.
Doom! thou'st like nae itherstream,
Loves sacred spell has bound thee,
For a the glory o. a dream,
The peasant threw around thee:
Thou sped unknown, through ages lang
A little nameless river;
Till pity poured loves tears in sang,
An hallowed thee forever:
Lang as the human hert remains
fount O. hopes an fears,
This simple little strain o. strains
Shall stir il into tears
For by the poets magic art,
Tho but mOorland river,
Through the green regions o. the heart
1t shall roll on for ever;
VII him the birds forever sing;
The gowans ne'er depart;
He carries supernal spring
Forever in his heart
The "modest flower" he crushed to earth
VII a. its snawy blossoms,
By him transplanted blooms henceforth
Forever in our bosoms;
An a. the streams may cease to flow;
The sun itsel may vary;
But down the ages he shall go
WI his dear Highland Mary.
Anon the bard doth change his mood,
And in the mirthfu' vein,
What fancies fit on mother-wit,
An humour a. his ain;
Until his provoking strains
Set daddie care a daffin'
An pit sic fun in his auld veins
He Gamma fyte for laughin'.
Despite the thunder's dreadful soun,
A through the air sac mrk,
Mang deils an watches he's set down
In Alloway's auld kirk;
He hears auld Nick play up spring,
Amang his crew uncanny;
Sees a. the devils dance and fling,
An cross an cleek ur' Mamie.
Hears Tammie, as his senses swim,
Rvar "Weel dune Guilty Sark,''
An hears the hellish legion grim
Rush on him in the dark,
An lang across the brig o. time
That legion weird an scraggy,
Shall chase triumphant Tam sublime
On his immortal Maggie!
An do! aneath the cloud o. nicht
Despite misfortunes deggers,
Saw mortal ever sic a sicht?
AS a. they "Jolly beggars.'
Fen happiness that shuns the great
Can nestle amang rags,
And even love and joy can wait
Amang auld mealy bags.
Fen wisdom gravely listens when
His "Twa Dugs" tax seat;
Tae get some LIGHT on ways o. men,
But even dugs are beat.
Burns wasna perfect tae dot,
An wha amang US a
But has some hole in his ain coat,
An maybe some hae twa.
Let them tax tent wha think they staun,
God keeps us humble az
The pride o. never having fla eu
Itsel's dreedfu' IA
o never, never! forcward be
The erring ane tae blame,
For under like temptation We
Micht just hae dune the same.
Burns MIGHT hae muckle tae repent
Frae "passions wild and strong;''
But did he gle his souls consent
Although he did the wrong;
We love him even VII stain,
Nae matter wha may ban;
We love him for he did maintain
The liberty of Man.
And till the ages a are fed,
And time shall cease to ROLL
His ''Scots wha hue VII Wallace bled,"
Shall fire the freeman's soul.
Hail! Minstrel o. the brave and true,
Tho Scotia's pride thou art,
In spirit thou belongest to
The universal heart.
ALEXANDER MCLACH
They play base ball in Siberia ar
a cold day, no matter what club get
A Sioux chief is learning to rid
bicycle, and the final exterminati
the aboriginal race is now only a
tion of time.
Cbiuaman haS iuct puhlicbad :,