Epistle to Hugh Parker

Epistle to Hugh Parker by Robert Burns

The speaker apologizes for being unable to write a proper epistle while confined in a strange, uncouth, smoke-filled place where neither prose nor poetry can thrive. Hidden by the chimney and peat reek, he hears a wheel turning but cannot see it, and feels reduced from poetic energy to merely counting his sins and enduring existence among unfamiliar Gallowa’ people. His only familiar companion is Jenny Geddes, his weary “Pegasean” pride, who sadly wanders along Nithside and looks westward through tears. The speaker praises her faithful service in carrying him over hills and through many places, and imagines rewarding her by raising her among the stars, racing across the heavens and outrunning Phoebus. Overwhelmed by grief, scant hope of relief, and peat smoke, he says he cannot produce writing worth reading. He promises to be in better spirits at Tarbolton on the twenty-fourth of June and asks that this serve as his excuse for sending no letter until they meet and share a drink.

By Robert Burns · First published 1786 · Genre: Epistolary Poetry, Scottish Dialect Poetry, Lyric Poetry · 501 words

First lines

In this strange land, this uncouth clime, / A land unknown to prose or rhyme; / Where words ne'er cross't the Muse's heckles, / Nor limpit in poetic shackles: / A land that Prose did never view it, / Except when drunk he stacher't thro' it; / Here, ambush'd by the chimla cheek, / Hid in an atmosphere of reek, / I hear a wheel thrum i' the neuk, / I hear it-for in vain I leuk. / The red peat gleams, a fiery kernel, / Enhusked by a fog infernal: / Here, for my wonted rhyming raptures, / I sit and count my sins by chapters; / For life and spunk like ither Christians, / I'm dwindled down to mere existence, / Wi' nae converse but Gallowa' bodies, / Wi' nae kenn'd face but Jenny Geddes, / Jenny, my Pegasean pride! / Dowie she saunters down Nithside, / And aye a westlin leuk she throws, / While tears hap o'er her auld brown nose! / Was it for this, wi' cannie care, / Thou bure the Bard through many a shire? / At howes, or hillocks never stumbled, / And late or early never grumbled? - / O had I power like inclination, / I'd heeze thee up a constellation, / To canter with the Sagitarre, / Or loup the ecliptic like a bar; / Or turn the pole like any arrow; / Or, when auld Phoebus bids good-morrow, / Down the zodiac urge the race, / And cast dirt on his godship's face; / For I could lay my bread and kail / He'd ne'er cast saut upo' thy tail. - / Wi' a' this care and a' this grief, / And sma', sma' prospect of relief, / And nought but peat reek i' my head, / How can I write what ye can read? - / Tarbolton, twenty-fourth o' June, / Ye'll find me in a better tune; / But till we meet and weet our whistle, / Tak this excuse for nae epistle.

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epistolary poem · verse letter · Scots dialect · Scottish vernacular poetry · rural Scotland · Galloway · Nithside · Tarbolton · peat smoke · strange lodging · writer's block · poetic frustration

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Epistle to Hugh Parker is listed on Textopian as a poem by Robert Burns, dated 1786 CE.

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