No More Learning

to
such a shield, humour is the peck of a sparrow, and satire the pop-gun
of a school-boy. Creation-disgracing scelerats such as they, God only
can mend, and the devil only can punish. In the comprehending way of
Caligula, I wish they all had but one neck. I feel impotent as a child
to the ardour of my wishes! O for a withering curse to blast the
germins of their wicked machinations! O for a poisonous tornado,
winged from the torrid zone of Tartarus, to sweep the spreading crop
of their villainous contrivances to the lowest hell!

R. B.

* * * * *




CCI.


TO MRS. DUNLOP.

[The poet wrote out several copies of Tam o' Shanter and sent them to
his friends, requesting their criticisms: he wrote few poems so
universally applauded. ]

_Ellisland, November, 1790. _

"As cold waters to a thirsty soul, so is good news from a far
country. "

Fate has long owed me a letter of good news from you, in return for
the many tidings of sorrow which I have received.
In this instance I
most cordially obey the apostle--"Rejoice with them that do
rejoice"--for me, _to sing_ for joy, is no new thing; but _to preach_
for joy, as I have done in the commencement of this epistle, is a
pitch of extravagant rapture to which I never rose before.

I read your letter--I literally jumped for joy--How could such a
mercurial creature as a poet lumpishly keep his seat on the receipt of
the best news from his best friend. I seized my gilt-headed Wangee
rod, an instrument indispensably necessary in my left hand, in the
moment of inspiration and rapture; and stride, stride--quick and
quicker--out skipt I among the broomy banks of Nith to muse over my
joy by retail. To keep within the bounds of prose was impossible. Mrs.
Little's is a more elegant, but not a more sincere compliment to the
sweet little fellow, than I, extempore almost, poured out to him in
the following verses:--

Sweet flow'ret, pledge o' meikle love
And ward o' mony a prayer,
What heart o' stane wad thou na move,
Sae helpless, sweet, an' fair.
November hirples o'er the lea
Chill on thy lovely form;
But gane, alas! the shelt'ring tree
Should shield thee frae the storm.

I am much flattered by your approbation of my _Tam o' Shanter_, which
you express in your former letter; though, by the bye, you load me in
that said letter with accusations heavy and many; to all which I
plead, _not guilty_! Your book is, I hear, on the road to reach me. As
to printing of poetry, when you prepare it for the press, you have
only to spell it right, and place the capital letters properly: as to
the punctuation, the printers do that themselves.

I have a copy of _Tam o' Shanter_ ready to send you by the first
opportunity: it is too heavy to send by post.

I heard of Mr. Corbet lately. He, in consequence of your
recommendation, is most zealous to serve me. Please favour me soon
with an account of your good folks; if Mrs.