1799 Poem, Samuel Thomson, ‘Bawsey’s Elegy, and Epitaph’
Author: Samuel Thomson
Date: 1799
Source: Poem: ‘Bawsey’s Elegy, and Epitaph — On seeing her Skull in a Ditch’, from New Poems, on a variety of different subjects by Samuel Thomson (Belfast: Doherty & Simms, 1799)
Comments: Samuel Thomson (1766–1816) from Lyles Hill near Templepatrick in South Antrim was the editor of the ‘Poets’ Corner’ in the Belfast United Irishman newspaper Northern Star until the paper was closed down in 1797. He exchanged poems with, and visited, Robert Burns, and published three books containing Ulster-Scots poetry — in 1793, 1799 and 1806. An account of his life and poetry can be found in the Introduction to The Country Rhymes of Samuel Thomson, by Philip Robinson and Ernest Scott (Belfast, 1992).
Doc. ref. no.: USLS/TB/Poetry/1700-1799/029
BAWSEY’S ELEGY,
AND EPITAPH — ON SEEING HER SKULL IN A DITCH.
“One portion of informing fire was given
“To brutes, the inferior family of heaven.”
DRYDEN.
After a life o’ labour past,
See whar my Bawsey’s craneum’s cast,
To bleach beneath the bitter blast,
Trod in the clabor!
A sorry recompense at last
For useful labour!
Lang thro’ the fiels wi’ me she flatter’d,
In wheel-car, pleugh, and harrow splatter’d,
For whilk she freely fed unfetter’d,
Thro’ Simmer bogs:
Now here and there her banes lie scatter’d,
A’ knaw’d wi’ dogs!
When wi’ a frien’ it was my fate,
To stay in market rather late,
She’d, trottin’, dousely fin’ the gate,
An’ bring her master,
Hame at her ease to waiting Kate,
Without disaster.
Therefore to gratify her mane,
I’ll gather up her every bane,
And hide them frae the sun an’ rain,
In yon brae-head:
The following verse upon her stane,
The fok’ may read.
EPITAPH.
O, stranger! whether high or low,
Or clergyman or knave,
Know that this foggy stane doth show
A noble filly’s grave.
As sleek a meir as ever par’d
The daisy frae the lee;
Wha thro’ her life was better shar’d
O’ sense perhaps than thee.
O friend! let this engross thy thought,
That life is but a day,
And man an’ meir alike are brought
To moulder in the clay.
The meir no more, but thou’lt exist
Beyond the silent cell;
Either in heaven with the blest,
Or with the damn’d in hell.
