"Now," said the poet, who was then very ill, "it is fit to
be presented to a lady.
be presented to a lady.
Robert Burns
Copland Hutchinson, to fix, one
morning, a bit of paper on the grave of a person who had committed
suicide: on the paper these lines were pencilled. ]
Earth'd up here lies an imp o' hell,
Planted by Satan's dibble--
Poor silly wretch, he's damn'd himsel'
To save the Lord the trouble.
* * * * *
LXVI.
EXTEMPORE
PINNED ON A LADY'S COUCH.
["Printed," says Sir Harris Nicolas, "from a copy in Burns's
handwriting," a slight alteration in the last line is made from an
oral version. ]
If you rattle along like your mistress's tongue,
Your speed will outrival the dart:
But, a fly for your load, you'll break down on the road
If your stuff has the rot, like her heart.
* * * * *
LXVII.
LINES
TO JOHN RANKINE.
[These lines were said to have been written by the poet to Rankine, of
Adamhill, with orders to forward them when he died. ]
He who of Rankine sang lies stiff and dead,
And a green grassy hillock hides his head;
Alas! alas! a devilish change indeed.
* * * * *
LXVIII.
JESSY LEWARS.
[Written on the blank side of a list of wild beasts, exhibiting in
Dumfries.
"Now," said the poet, who was then very ill, "it is fit to
be presented to a lady. "]
Talk not to me of savages
From Afric's burning sun,
No savage e'er could rend my heart
As, Jessy, thou hast done.
But Jessy's lovely hand in mine,
A mutual faith to plight,
Not even to view the heavenly choir
Would be so blest a sight.
* * * * *
LXIX.
THE TOAST.
[One day, when Burns was ill and seemed in slumber, he observed Jessy
Lewars moving about the house with a light step lest she should
disturb him. He took a crystal goblet containing wine-and-water for
moistening his lips, wrote these words upon it with a diamond, and
presented it to her. ]
Fill me with the rosy-wine,
Call a toast--a toast divine;
Give the Poet's darling flame,
Lovely Jessy be the name;
Then thou mayest freely boast,
Thou hast given a peerless toast.
* * * * *
LXX.
ON MISS JESSY LEWARS.
[The constancy of her attendance on the poet's sick-bed and anxiety of
mind brought a slight illness upon Jessy Lewars. "You must not die
yet," said the poet: "give me that goblet, and I shall prepare you for
the worst. " He traced these lines with his diamond, and said, "That
will be a companion to 'The Toast. '"]
Say, sages, what's the charm on earth
Can turn Death's dart aside?
It is not purity and worth,
Else Jessy had not died.
R.
morning, a bit of paper on the grave of a person who had committed
suicide: on the paper these lines were pencilled. ]
Earth'd up here lies an imp o' hell,
Planted by Satan's dibble--
Poor silly wretch, he's damn'd himsel'
To save the Lord the trouble.
* * * * *
LXVI.
EXTEMPORE
PINNED ON A LADY'S COUCH.
["Printed," says Sir Harris Nicolas, "from a copy in Burns's
handwriting," a slight alteration in the last line is made from an
oral version. ]
If you rattle along like your mistress's tongue,
Your speed will outrival the dart:
But, a fly for your load, you'll break down on the road
If your stuff has the rot, like her heart.
* * * * *
LXVII.
LINES
TO JOHN RANKINE.
[These lines were said to have been written by the poet to Rankine, of
Adamhill, with orders to forward them when he died. ]
He who of Rankine sang lies stiff and dead,
And a green grassy hillock hides his head;
Alas! alas! a devilish change indeed.
* * * * *
LXVIII.
JESSY LEWARS.
[Written on the blank side of a list of wild beasts, exhibiting in
Dumfries.
"Now," said the poet, who was then very ill, "it is fit to
be presented to a lady. "]
Talk not to me of savages
From Afric's burning sun,
No savage e'er could rend my heart
As, Jessy, thou hast done.
But Jessy's lovely hand in mine,
A mutual faith to plight,
Not even to view the heavenly choir
Would be so blest a sight.
* * * * *
LXIX.
THE TOAST.
[One day, when Burns was ill and seemed in slumber, he observed Jessy
Lewars moving about the house with a light step lest she should
disturb him. He took a crystal goblet containing wine-and-water for
moistening his lips, wrote these words upon it with a diamond, and
presented it to her. ]
Fill me with the rosy-wine,
Call a toast--a toast divine;
Give the Poet's darling flame,
Lovely Jessy be the name;
Then thou mayest freely boast,
Thou hast given a peerless toast.
* * * * *
LXX.
ON MISS JESSY LEWARS.
[The constancy of her attendance on the poet's sick-bed and anxiety of
mind brought a slight illness upon Jessy Lewars. "You must not die
yet," said the poet: "give me that goblet, and I shall prepare you for
the worst. " He traced these lines with his diamond, and said, "That
will be a companion to 'The Toast. '"]
Say, sages, what's the charm on earth
Can turn Death's dart aside?
It is not purity and worth,
Else Jessy had not died.
R.
