Lines Written in Friars'-Carse Hermitage

Lines Written in Friars'-Carse Hermitage

The poem addresses any stranger who comes to the hermitage, whether clad in russet weed or deckt in silken stole, and offers moral maxims. Life is brief, sprung from night and lost in darkness, so one should neither expect sunshine every hour nor fear that clouds will always lour. Contentment and ease are better aims than ambition and fame, which are depicted as a meteor-gleam and an idle, restless dream. Peace is valued as the tenderest flower of spring, while pleasures are likened to insects: those that merely sip the dew may be welcomed like butterflies, but those that would devour the bloom should be crushed like locusts to save the flower. The stranger is urged to prepare for the future and guard where possible, yet welcome what cannot be shunned after doing one’s utmost duty. Past follies should be given to air, though their consequences must be faced. The poem calls on the reader to remember the name of Man and not dishonour humankind, to reverence with a lowly heart Him whose wondrous work one is, and to keep His Goodness in view as both trust and example. The Beadsman of Nidside sends the stranger onward with Heaven as guide.

By Robert Burns · First published 1808 · Genre: Lyric Poetry, Didactic Poetry, Philosophical Poetry · 306 words

First lines

Glenriddel Hermitage, June 28th, 1788.

Thou whom chance may hither lead, / Be thou clad in russet weed, / Be thou deckt in silken stole, / Grave these maxims on thy soul.

What this Textopian page supports

Lines Written in Friars'-Carse Hermitage is listed on Textopian as a poem by Robert Burns, dated 1808 CE.

This source record anchors work identity, reading entry points, and catalog context for checking claims about the work.

Good citation fit

Similar titles

Genres

Tags

moral counsel · aphoristic verse · meditation on mortality · brevity of life · contentment · inner peace · rejection of ambition · vanity of fame · acceptance of fate · preparation for the future · personal responsibility · consequences of folly

More by Robert Burns