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Curse on ungrateful man, that can be pleas'd, And yet can starve the author of the pleasure! O thou, my elder brother in Misfortune, By far my elder Brother in the muse, With tears I pity thy unhappy fate! Why is the Bard unfitted for the world, Yet has so keen a relish of its Pleasures?
This is a poem by Robert Burns. It was written in 1787 and is read here by John Shedden.
'Lines Written Under the Portrait of Robert Fergusson, the Poet, in a Copy of That Author's Works Presented to a Young Lady in Edinburgh, March 19th, 1787'. So ran the original title. Rebeccah Carmichael, herself a would-be poetess was the recipient of Fergusson’s book and Burns’ verses. Fergusson died at the age of 24 in the Edinburgh 'mad house'. A drunken fall killed Burns' 'elder brother in misfortune', but alcoholism and syphilis had fatally weakened the author of 'Leith Races' and many other magnificent works. Robert Fergusson’s influence on the other Robert was considerable and acknowledged. It was Burns who paid for and installed a proper tombstone in the Canongate cemetery and provided the epitaph. Burns' efforts were not in vain: ignored or forgotten in his lifetime, Fergusson now enjoys the literary immortality he deserved.
Donny O'Rourke
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