tenderness of their treatment of animals, revealed one of the most
attractive sides of Burns' personality. Many of his poems were never
printed during his lifetime, the most remarkable of these being "The
Jolly Beggars," a piece in which, by the intensity of his imaginative
sympathy and the brilliance of his technique, he renders a picture of
the lowest dregs of society in such a way as to raise it into the realm
of great poetry.

But the real national importance of Burns is due chiefly to his songs.
The Puritan austerity of the centuries following the Reformation had
discouraged secular music, like other forms of art, in Scotland; and as
a result Scottish song had become hopelessly degraded in point both of
decency and literary quality. From youth Burns had been interested in
collecting the fragments he had heard sung or found printed, and he came
to regard the rescuing of this almost lost national inheritance in the
light of a vocation. About his song-making, two points are especially
noteworthy: first, that the greater number of his lyrics sprang from
actual emotional experiences; second, that almost all were composed to
old melodies. While in Edinburgh he undertook to supply material for
Johnson's "Musical Museum," and as few of the traditional songs could
appear in a respectable collection, Burns found it necessary to make
them over. Sometimes he kept a stanza or two; sometimes only a line or
chorus; sometimes merely the name of the air; the rest was his own. His
method, as he has told us himself, was to become familiar with the
traditional melody, to catch a suggestion from some fragment of the old
song, to fix upon an idea or situation for the new poem; then, humming
or whistling the tune as he went about his work, he wrought out the new
verses, going into the house to write them down when the inspiration
began to flag. In this process is to be found the explanation of much of
the peculiar quality of the songs of Burns. Scarcely any known author