TAM, THE CHAPMAN.
[Tam, the chapman, is said by the late William Cobbett, who knew him, to have been a Thomas Kennedy, a native of Ayrshire, agent to a mercantile house in the west of Scotland. Sir Harris Nicolas confounds him with the Kennedy to whom Burns addressed several letters and verses, which I printed in my edition of the poet in 1834: it is perhaps enough to say that the name of the one was Thomas and the name of the other John.]
As Tam the Chapman on a day,
Wi’ Death forgather’d by the way,
Weel pleas’d he greets a wight so famous,
And Death was nae less pleas’d wi’ Thomas,
Wha cheerfully lays down the pack,
And there blaws up a hearty crack;
His social, friendly, honest heart,
Sae tickled Death they could na part:
Sac after viewing knives and garters,
Death takes him hame to gie him quarters.
LXXIII.
[These lines seem to owe their origin to the precept of Mickle.
“The present moment is our ain,
The next we never saw.”]
Here’s a bottle and an honest friend!
What wad you wish for mair, man?
Wha kens before his life may end,
What his share may be o’ care, man?
Then catch the moments as they fly,
And use them as ye ought, man?
Believe me, happiness is shy,
And comes not ay when sought, man.
LXXIV.
[The sentiment which these lines express, was one familiar to Burns, in the early, as well as concluding days of his life.]
Though fickle Fortune has deceived me,
She promis’d fair and perform’d but ill;
Of mistress, friends, and wealth bereav’d me,
Yet I bear a heart shall support me still.—
I’ll act with prudence as far’s I’m able,
But if success I must never find,
Then come misfortune, I bid thee welcome,
I’ll meet thee with an undaunted mind.