A TRUE TALE.
20th July, 1806.
“Dogs are honest creatures,
Ne'er fawn on any that they love not ;
And I'm a friend to dogs,—
They ne'er betray their masters.”
IN mony an instance, without dout,
The man may copy frae the brute,
And by th' example grow much wiser ;—
Then read the short memoirs of Towser.
With def'rence tae our great Lavaters, [1]
Wha judge a mankind by their features,
There's mony a smiling, pleasant-fac'd cock,
That wears a heart no worth a custock,
While mony a visage, antic, droll,
O'erveils a noble, gen'rous soul.
With Towser this was just the case :
He had an ill-faur't tawtie face,
His mak was something like a messin,
But big, an quite unprepossessin,
His master caft him frae some fallows,
Wha had him doom'd untae the gallows,
Because (sae hap'd poor Towser's lot),
He wadna tear a comrade's throat ;
Yet, in affairs of love or honour,
He'd stan his part amang a hunner,
An whare'er fighting was a merit,
He never failed to shaw his spirit.
He never girn'd in neighbour's face,
Wi' wild, ill-natur'd scant-o-grace,
Nor e'er accosted ane wi smiles,
Then, soon as turn'd, wad bite his heels,
Nor ever kent the courtier airt,
To fawn wi rancour at his heart ;
Nor aught kent he o cankert quarlin,
Nor snarlin just for sake o snarlin ;
Ye'd pinch him sair afore he'd growl,
Whilk ever shaws a magnanimity of soul.
But what adds maistly to his fame,
An will immortalise his name—
(Immortalise !—presumptive wicht !
Thy lines are dull as darkest nicht,
Without ae spark o wit or glee,
To licht them through futurity.)
E'en be it sae ;—poor Towser's story,
Though lamely tauld, will speak his glory.
Twas in the month o cauld December,
When Nature's fire seem'd just an ember,
An growlin winter bellow'd forth
In storms and tempests frae the north—
When honest Towser's loving master,
Regardless o the surly bluster,
Set out to the neist borough town
To buy some needments o his own ;
An, case some purse pest soud waylay him,
He took his trusty servant wi him.
His bus'ness done, twas near the gloamin,
An ay the king o storms was foamin,
The doors did ring—lum pigs down tuml'd—
The strawns gush'd big—the sinks loud ruml'd ;
Auld grannies spread their looves, an sich't,
Wi “O sirs ! what an awfu nicht”
Poor Towser shook his sides a draigl'd,
An's master grudg'd that he had taigl'd ;
But, wi his merchandizing load,
Come weel, come wae, he took the road.
Now duds drave o'er the fiel's like drift,
Nicht flung her black cleuk o'er the lift ;
An thro the naked trees and hedges,
The horrid storm redoubl'd rages :
An, to complete his piteous case,
It blew directly in his face.
Whiles gainst the footpath stabs he thumped,
Whiles o'er the coots in holes he plumped ;
But on he gaed, an on he waded,
Till he at length turn'd faint and jaded.
To gang he could nae Langer bide,
But lay down by the bare dykeside.
Now, bairns and wife rush'd on his soul—
He groan'd—poor Towser loud did howl,
An, mournin, couret doun aside him ;
But, oh ! his master couldna heed him,
For now his senses gan to dozen,
His vera life streams maist war frozen ;
An't seemed as if the cruel skies
Exulted o'er their sacrifice,
For fierce the win's did o'er him hiss,
An dasht the sleet on his cauld face. [2]
As on a rock, far, far frae lan,
Twa shipwreck'd sailors shiv'ring stan,
If chance a vessel they descry
Their hearts exult with instant joy,
Sae was poor Towser joy'd to hear
The tread o trav'llers drawing near,
He ran, an yowl'd, and fawn'd upon 'em,
But couldna mak them understan him,
Till, tugging at the foremost's coat,
He led them tae the mournfu spot,
Where, cauld an stiff his master lay,
Tae the rude storm a helpless prey.
Wi Caledonian sympathy
They bore him kindly on the way,
Until they reach'd a cottage bien.
They tauld the case, war welcomed in—
The rousin fire, the cordial drop,
Restor'd him soon tae life an hope ;
Fond raptures beam'd in Towser's eye,
An antic gambols spake his joy.
Wha reads this simple tale may see
The worth of sensibility,
And learn frae it tae be humane—
In Towser's life he sav'd his ain.
Towser.—The true name of Tannahill's dog was “Cyrus,” and the Poet was very much attached to his faithful canine companion. Cyrus loved his master, and always accompanied him in his rambles on Gleniffer Braes and by Alt Patrick Burn. On the sudden death of Cyrus occurring, the Poet wrote the above tale under the name of Towser, and it was printed in No. VII. of John Millar's Paisley Repository, published in July, 1806. See first Note to No. 16. —Ed.
[1] John Gaspar Lavater, the celebrated physiognomist, was born at Zurich in 1741, and became a Protestant minister. He was an acquaintance of Dr. Zimmerman, and the doctor advised his friend to pursue his natural and extraordinary gift of physiognomy. In 1775, Lavater's great work, “Physiognomanic Fragments,” in 4 vols., 4to., appeared, which was translated into English, obtained great celebrity, and was a favourite subject for discussion in the days of Tannahill. Lavater died in 1801.—Ed.
[2] In the April number of the Scots Magazine for 1802, VoL LXV., page 256, the following anecdote of a dog, taken from the Gentleman's Magazine, appeared. At that time, there were several reading clubs in Paisley, and the Scots Magazine was one of the monthly periodicals taken in, and Tannahill afterwards became a contributor to that well-conducted serial:—“REMARKABLE SAGACITY IN A DOG.—Some years since, Mr. S— of Margate, in Kent, was returning from a neighbouring town, during a very heavy fall of snow, and was accompanied by a dog belonging to a relation of his who kept an inn near his own house. He became so fatigued with his journey, which he performed on foot, that he was hardly able to proceed, and when within a mile or less from home he several times stopped; when the sagacious animal seized hold of his coat and impelled him forwards, until, through his kind efforts, he literally tore the skirts from his garments. At last, Mr. S— being entirely overcome by the inclemency of the weather, when he had arrived within two hundred yards of his house, was obliged to drop on the snow by the side of a hovel, and supposes he immediately fell asleep. It appeared that the faithful animal had used every endeavour to awaken him, as his hands and face, when he was discovered, were evidently marked by the claws of the dog; but this being ineffectual, he then left his friend, and halted to his master's house, and by every gesture which he could command endeavoured to entice somebody with him by howling, running backwards and forwards to the door, &c. But not being able to make himself understood, he took a person by the coat, and led him to the spot where his friend lay in a miserable state, and nearly deprived of life by the cold. Assistance being procured, Mr. S— was taken to his house, and, with the greatest difficulty, restored to animation. In gratitude to his deliverer (under the Almighty), he took the greatest care of the dog, had his portrait accurately taken in oil colours, and which, as a memento, now graces the chimney-piece in his hall. Shall we call this fidelity, instinct, sagacity, friendship, or reason, in the brute ; or a gracious interposition of Eternal Providence, in thus furnishing this animal with faculties beyond the nature of his species,—thus to preserve the life of one in the higher rank in his wonderful, incomprehensible, and all-beautiful creation.”—Ed.
[Semple 38]