Epistle to William Creech: Epistle to William Creech

Epistle to William Creech

[A storm of rain detained Burns one day, during his border tour, at
Selkirk, and he employed his time in writing this characteristic
epistle to Creech, his bookseller. Creech was a person of education
and taste; he was not only the most popular publisher in the north,
but he was intimate with almost all the distinguished men who, in
those days, adorned Scottish literature. But though a joyous man, a
lover of sociality, and the keeper of a good table, he was close and
parsimonious, and loved to hold money to the last moment that the law
allowed.]

_Selkirk_, 13 _May_, 1787.
    Auld chukie Reekie's[69] sair distrest,
    Down droops her ance weel-burnisht crest,
    Nae joy her bonnie buskit nest
                      Can yield ava,
    Her darling bird that she lo'es best,
                      Willie's awa!
    O Willie was a witty wight,
    And had o' things an unco slight;
    Auld Reekie ay he keepit tight,
                      An' trig an' braw:
    But now they'll busk her like a fright,
                      Willie's awa!
    The stiffest o' them a' he bow'd;
    The bauldest o' them a' he cow'd;
    They durst nae mair than he allow'd,
                      That was a law;
    We've lost a birkie weel worth gowd,
                      Willie's awa!
    Now gawkies, tawpies, gowks, and fools,
    Frae colleges and boarding-schools,
    May sprout like simmer puddock stools
                      In glen or shaw;
    He wha could brush them down to mools,
                      Willie's awa!
    The brethren o' the Commerce-Chaumer[70]
    May mourn their loss wi' doofu' clamour;
    He was a dictionar and grammar
                      Amang them a';
    I fear they'll now mak mony a stammer,
                      Willie's awa!
    Nae mair we see his levee door
    Philosophers and poets pour,[71]
    And toothy critics by the score
                      In bloody raw!
    The adjutant o' a' the core,
                      Willie's awa!
    Now worthy Gregory's Latin face,
    Tytler's and Greenfield's modest grace;
    Mackenzie, Stewart, sic a brace
                      As Rome n'er saw;
    They a' maun meet some ither place,
                      Willie's awa!
    Poor Burns--e'en Scotch drink canna quicken,
    He cheeps like some bewilder'd chicken,
    Scar'd frae its minnie and the cleckin
                      By hoodie-craw;
    Grief's gien his heart an unco kickin',
                      Willie's awa!
    Now ev'ry sour-mou'd girnin' blellum,
    And Calvin's fock are fit to fell him;
    And self-conceited critic skellum
                      His quill may draw;
    He wha could brawlie ward their bellum,
                      Willie's awa!
    Up wimpling stately Tweed I've sped,
    And Eden scenes on crystal Jed,
    And Ettrick banks now roaring red,
                      While tempests blaw;
    But every joy and pleasure's fled,
                      Willie's awa!
    May I be slander's common speech;
    A text for infamy to preach;
    And lastly, streekit out to bleach
                      In winter snaw;
    When I forget thee! Willie Creech,
                      Tho' far awa!
    May never wicked fortune touzle him!
    May never wicked man bamboozle him!
    Until a pow as auld's Methusalem
                      He canty claw!
    Then to the blessed New Jerusalem,
                      Fleet wing awa!
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 69: Edinburgh.]
[Footnote 70: The Chamber of Commerce in Edinburgh, of which Creech was
Secretary.]
[Footnote 71: Many literary gentlemen were accustomed to meet at Mr.
Creech's house at breakfast.]

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