No More Learning

But fegs, the Session says I maun
Gae fa' upo' anither plan,
Than garrin lasses cowp the cran
Clean heels owre body,
And sairly thole their mither's ban
Afore the howdy.

This leads me on, to tell for sport,
How I did wi' the Session sort,
Auld Clinkum at the inner port
Cried three times--"Robin!
Come hither, lad, an' answer for't,
Ye're blamed for jobbin'. "

Wi' pinch I pat a Sunday's face on,
An' snoov'd away before the Session;
I made an open fair confession--
I scorn'd to lee;
An' syne Mess John, beyond expression,
Fell foul o' me.

* * * * *




LXIII.

TO J. RANKINE.

[With the Laird of Adamhill's personal character the reader is already
acquainted: the lady about whose frailties the rumour alluded to was
about to rise, has not been named, and it would neither be delicate
nor polite to guess. ]


I am a keeper of the law
In some sma' points, altho' not a';
Some people tell me gin I fa'
Ae way or ither.
The breaking of ae point, though sma',
Breaks a' thegither

I hae been in for't once or twice,
And winna say o'er far for thrice,
Yet never met with that surprise
That broke my rest,
But now a rumour's like to rise,
A whaup's i' the nest.

* * * * *




LXIV.

LINES

WRITTEN ON A BANK-NOTE.

[The bank-note on which these characteristic lines were endorsed, came
into the hands of the late James Gracie, banker in Dumfries: he knew
the handwriting of Burns, and kept it as a curiosity. The concluding
lines point to the year 1786, as the date of the composition. ]


Wae worth thy power, thou cursed leaf,
Fell source o' a' my woe an' grief;
For lack o' thee I've lost my lass,
For lack o' thee I scrimp my glass.
I see the children of affliction
Unaided, through thy cursed restriction
I've seen the oppressor's cruel smile
Amid his hapless victim's spoil:
And for thy potence vainly wished,
To crush the villain in the dust.
For lack o' thee, I leave this much-lov'd shore,
Never, perhaps, to greet old Scotland more.

R. B.

* * * * *




LXV.

A DREAM.

"Thoughts, words, and deeds, the statute blames with reason;
But surely dreams were ne'er indicted treason. "

On reading, in the public papers, the "Laureate's Ode," with the other
parade of June 4th, 1786, the author was no sooner dropt asleep, than
he imagined himself transported to the birth-day levee; and, in his
dreaming fancy, made the following "Address. "

[The prudent friends of the poet remonstrated with him about this
Poem, which they appeared to think would injure his fortunes and stop
the royal bounty to which he was thought entitled. Mrs. Dunlop, and
Mrs. Stewart, of Stair, solicited him in vain to omit it in the
Edinburgh edition of his poems. I know of no poem for which a claim of
being prophetic would be so successfully set up: it is full of point
as well as of the future. The allusions require no comment. ]


Guid-mornin' to your Majesty!
May Heaven augment your blisses,
On ev'ry new birth-day ye see,
A humble poet wishes!