Burns's Anniversary.

Clutha Leader, Volume I, Issue 30, 4 February 1875, Page 6

Burns's Anniversary.

On the evehihg'bf ; 'the 25th ultimo,? the Caledonian Society celebrated the anniversary of the birth of Robert Burns at Wain's Hotel, Dunedin, where an excellent dinner was served by line , present occupier. Mr Keith Rairisay,! president of the Society, was in "tKe ; chair, and Mr Andrew. M'Grigor; croupier. There were not so many', members present as usual— there being only about forty — but the president explained that it having been believfed by many that the commemoration. ,. of. Burns's birth would be more generally appreciated- did the~ demWstration emanate from the public than from the * directors of the Society, no arrangements had been made until last Friday evening, when, it being evident no movement was in "progress outside the directory it was; too late to prepare a programme*, The formal toasts having been drunk, the " Memocy of Burns" was proposed; by Mr A.'MacgregQr in a speech remarkable for clearness of aiTangemefit and minutei acquaintance with the subject p^Hfe criticised Burns's character as a man and as a poet, and traced the influence - of" his writings upon the thought and habits of his countrymen. - Several ; other toasts having' been honored, interspersed with appropriate Scottish songs, the poet laureate of the society, Mi* Barr, of Craigileej read his annual contribution to Burns's memoryy a's follows *:-r • 'yy y . , The princely ploughman bows hia head and dies, „ .;n;.;h ' His weary soul from earthly bondage fliesj Short was his life, and roomful was the end, That broke, the heart misfortune could riot bend. .A selfish world took all he had to give, And yet denied the very means to live ; And thou, too,' Scotia, well the muse may chide, When glorious Burns stood panting by thy sideWhen death's cold hand was clutching at his heartWhere waa thy shield ? that might have turned the dart. He decked thy robes with many a lovely flower, i ' Culled from thy valleys, and from many a bower; Thy martial deeds on many a glory plain, Where thy best blood Was poured from every vein, Thy Poet sung, nor did his love depart 'Till death bad chilled his Caledonian heart. Why. art thou cruel to thy bardsof fame ? Without thy bards where would be thy name. ? ; Why dost thou grudge the bread that we should eat ? As if a dog were crouching at thy feet ; Yet honor wealth and low-born vulgar pride, When honest worth is pining by thy side. What of thy Pergusson, and eke of Tannahill, , The gentle bard and poet of the rill ? Both driven mad with thy neglect and scorn 1 ; : "'" Two noble hearts with cruel anguish torn' j I Why are^tbey^honored only in the tomb, Where costly marbles mark their narrow home? ■"" ■• , Why are thy bards unhonored 'till they're dead, ", Why give them stones instead of giving bread ? ■ ' '-' L „ Why at the last with tardy homage bow When death's cold seal is stamped upon their brow? .. :-.;'.-. Upon thy diadem of Alpine snow. Where torrents gush, where stately forests grow, - ' ; .Whose loftyf peaks look proudly/o'er the main,, . There bahgs<.a. cloud, r ahd on thy crest a •stain!' * ' '. ';. /;'._. '/'•; . '.V. '.'.[.... A Robert Burns will come to the no more, There was but one in Nature's bounteous store, ... \ ' Who in thy honor was bestowed on thee — The priceless gem, alas ! thou didst not ..see; ... '."'•;• ;Of all 'tby bards the greatest of his race, . And thou hast found no bard to take hie place; His harp unstrung lies shattered on the plain, :..:_:: - - ".:". t '■■ And none may dare to tune that harpagain, Had Burns but grovelled to the Church and State, He would have, ranked amongst the rich and great ; But he unveiled corruption in its den. And scorned the price that would have bought his pen. - Erect he stocd disclaiming selfish arts, 'Tho' rduhd him flew misfortune's cruel darts. As in the forest like the stately oak He bore the ; blast* nor bent beneath/the .;■..,.': .shock. . : But like the oak, when lightning does it - rend, , .. The -monarch fails, the tempest could hoi bend. Compared with him how:.sink the venia] , 7„ ijaceV . . • : WhojQh Jheir iraes will jcrawl for pqwei and "place, "^ ,_ . Who flatter men who dwell in lordly halls And eat the crumb that from their fabl< ~ ~X>nv ;; " y ■-> "•■''■; A patriot bard he sung his country's praisi In nbbie strains,*' and in immortal lays.' ' " \ The. Scottish thistle well may bow its head And daises weep dew drops upon his head * Evening Star/- .v X. X .-. ....-■- - > ,