ROBERT BURNSThe Scottish Legend

Robert Burns (25 January

1759 – 21 July 1796) (also Rabbie Burns, Scotland's favourite son, the Ploughman Poet, the Bard of Ayrshire and in Scotland as simply The Bard) was a poet and a lyricist. He is regarded as the national poet of Scotland, and is celebrated worldwide. He is the best-known of the poets who have written in the Scots language, although much of his writing is also in English and a 'light' Scots dialect, accessible to an audience beyond Scotland.

Robert Burns was born two miles south of Ayr, in Alloway, South Ayrshire, Scotland, the eldest of the seven children of William Burness (1721 - 1784) (Robert Burns spelled his surname Burness until 1786), a self-educated farmer and Agnes Broun (1732 – 1820)

He was born in a house built by his father (now the Burns Cottage Museum), where he lived until Easter 1766 when he was seven years old. Then the father sold this house and the family moved to Alloway.

Young Robert had little regular schooling, and got much of his education from his father, who taught his children reading, writing, arithmetic, geography, and history. After a few years of home education Burns was sent to Dalrymple Parish School during the summer of 1772.

At the age of 17 Burns writes his first poems:

O, Once I Lov'd A Bonie Lass…

and

Now Westlin' Winds and I Dream'd I Lay.

In April 1786, at the suggestion of his brother, Robert Burns published his poems in the volume

Poems, Chiefly in the Scottish

Dialect

known as the Kilmarnock volume

The success of the book was great and soon he was known across the country.

He was invited to Edinburgh in 1787. There he was received as an equal by the city's brilliant men and was a guest at aristocratic gatherings.

Here he encountered, and made a lasting impression on Walter Scott, who described him later with great admiration:“His person was strong and robust; his manners rustic, not clownish, a sort of dignified plainness and simplicity which received part of its effect perhaps from knowledge of his extraordinary talents. His features are presented in Mr Nasmyth's picture but to me it conveys the idea that they are diminished, as if seen in perspective. I think his countenance was more massive than it looks in any of the portraits ... there was a strong expression of shrewdness in all his lineaments; the eye alone, I think, indicated the poetical character and temperament. It was large, and of a dark cast, and literally glowed when he spoke with feeling or interest. I never saw such another eye in a human head, though I have seen the most distinguished men of my time.„

Walter Scott

The second edition of "Poems", published by William Creech in 1787, brought him some slight financial security. In these Years Burns also got married (to Jean Armour)Burns concentrated on songwriting, making substantial contributions to James Johnson's Scots Musical Museum, including "Auld Lang Syne" (1788) and "A Red, Red Rose".

Much of Robert Burns's poetry, like Tam O' Shanter (1791), was written humourously about his own situations and experiences. This humour stands the test of time and it is as funny today as when it was written more than 200 years ago at a time when living conditions were extremely harsh for the majority of the population.

A Poet's Welcome To His Love-Begotten Daughter

PoemThou's welcome, wean; mishanter fa' me,

If thoughts o' thee, or yet thy mamie, Shall ever daunton me or awe me, My bonie lady, Or if I blush when thou shalt ca' me Tyta or daddie. Tho' now they ca' me fornicator, An' tease my name in kintry clatter, The mair they talk, I'm kent the better, E'en let them clash; An auld wife's tongue's a feckless

matter To gie ane fash. Welcome! my bonie, sweet, wee

dochter, Tho' ye come here a wee unsought for, And tho' your comin' I hae fought for, Baith kirk and queir; Yet, by my faith, ye're no unwrought for, That I shall swear!

Wee image o' my bonie Betty, As fatherly I kiss and daut thee, As dear, and near my heart I set thee Wi' as gude will As a' the priests had seen me get thee That's out o' hell. Sweet fruit o' mony a merry dint, My funny toil is now a' tint, Sin' thou came to the warl' asklent, Which fools may scoff at; In my last plack thy part's be in't The better ha'f o't. Tho' I should be the waur bestead, Thou's be as braw and bienly clad, And thy young years as nicely bred Wi' education, As ony brat o' wedlock's bed, In a' thy station.

AULD LANG SYNEShould auld acquaintance be forgot,And never brought to mind?Should auld acquaintance be forgot,And auld lang syne? For auld lang syne, my dear,For auld lang syne,We'll tak a cup of kindness yet,For auld lang syne!And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp,And surely I'll be mine,And we'll tak a cup o kindness yet,For auld lang syne!We twa hae run about the braes,And pou'd the gowans fine,But we've wander'd monie a weary fit,Sin auld lang syne. We twa hae paidl'd in the burnFrae morning sun till dine,But seas between us braid hae roar'dSin auld lang syne. And there's a hand my trusty fiere,And gie's a hand o thine,And we'll tak a right guid-willie waught,For auld lang syne

The translations of Burns’ poems were made by many people, but the most successful and lively of them are those by S. Marshak

SCOTLAND: THE MOTHER OF ROBERT BURNS