No More Learning

[Pronounced, tradition says, at the table of Mrs. Riddel, of
Woodleigh-Park. ]


O thou in whom we live and move,
Who mad'st the sea and shore,
Thy goodness constantly we prove,
And grateful would adore.
And if it please thee, Power above,
Still grant us with such store,
The friend we trust, the fair we love,
And we desire no more.

* * * * *




XXX.

ON WAT.

[The name of the object of this fierce epigram might be found, but in
gratifying curiosity, some pain would be inflicted. ]


Sic a reptile was Wat,
Sic a miscreant slave,
That the very worms damn'd him
When laid in his grave.
"In his flesh there's a famine,"
A starv'd reptile cries;
"An' his heart is rank poison,"
Another replies.

* * * * *




XXXI.

ON CAPTAIN FRANCIS GROSE.

[This was a festive sally: it is said that Grose, who was very fat,
though he joined in the laugh, did not relish it. ]


The devil got notice that Grose was a-dying,
So whip! at the summons, old Satan came flying;
But when he approach'd where poor Francis lay moaning,
And saw each bed-post with its burden a-groaning,
Astonish'd! confounded!
cry'd Satan, "By ----,
I'll want him, ere I take such a damnable load! "

* * * * *




XXXII.

IMPROMPTU,

TO MISS AINSLIE.

[These lines were occasioned by a sermon on sin, to which the poet and
Miss Ainslie of Berrywell had listened, during his visit to the
border. ]


Fair maid, you need not take the hint,
Nor idle texts pursue:--
'Twas guilty sinners that he meant,
Not angels such as you!

* * * * *




XXXIII.

THE KIRK OF LAMINGTON.

[One rough, cold day, Burns listened to a sermon, so little to his
liking, in the kirk of Lamington, in Clydesdale, that he left this
protest on the seat where he sat. ]


As cauld a wind as ever blew,
As caulder kirk, and in't but few;
As cauld a minister's e'er spak,
Ye'se a' be het ere I come back.

* * * * *




XXXIV.

THE LEAGUE AND COVENANT.

[In answer to a gentleman, who called the solemn League and Covenant
ridiculous and fanatical. ]


The solemn League and Covenant
Cost Scotland blood--cost Scotland tears;
But it sealed freedom's sacred cause--
If thou'rt a slave, indulge thy sneers.

* * * * *




XXXV.

WRITTEN ON A PANE OF GLASS,

IN THE INN AT MOFFAT.

[A friend asked the poet why God made Miss Davies so little, and a
lady who was with her, so large: before the ladies, who had just
passed the window, were out of sight, the following answer was
recorded on a pane of glass.