No More Learning

Love, thou hast pleasures, and deep hae I loved;
Love, thou hast sorrows, and sair hae I proved;
But this bruised heart that now bleeds in my breast,
I can feel by its throbbings will soon be at rest.

III.

O, if I were happy, where happy I hae been,
Down by yon stream, and yon bonnie castle green;
For there he is wand'ring, and musing on me,
Wha wad soon dry the tear frae his Phillis's e'e.

* * * * *




CLXXII.

HERE'S HIS HEALTH IN WATER.

Tune--"_The job of journey-work. _"

[Burns took the hint of this song from an older and less decorous
strain, and wrote these words, it has been said, in humorous allusion
to the condition in which Jean Armour found herself before marriage;
as if Burns could be capable of anything so insulting. The words are
in the Museum. ]


Altho' my back be at the wa',
An' tho' he be the fautor;
Altho' my back be at the wa',
Yet here's his health in water!
O! wae gae by his wanton sides,
Sae brawlie he could flatter;
Till for his sake I'm slighted sair,
And dree the kintra clatter.
But tho' my back be at the wa',
And tho' he be the fautor;
But tho' my back be at the wa',
Yet here's his health in water!

* * * * *




CLXXIII.

MY PEGGY'S FACE.

Tune--"_My Peggy's Face.
_"

[Composed in honour of Miss Margaret Chalmers, afterwards Mrs. Lewis
Hay, one of the wisest, and, it is said, the wittiest of all the
poet's lady correspondents. Burns, in the note in which he
communicated it to Johnson, said he had a strong private reason for
wishing it to appear in the second volume of the Museum. ]


I.

My Peggy's face, my Peggy's form,
The frost of hermit age might warm;
My Peggy's worth, my Peggy's mind,
Might charm the first of human kind.
I love my Peggy's angel air,
Her face so truly, heav'nly fair,
Her native grace so void of art,
But I adore my Peggy's heart.

II.

The lily's hue, the rose's dye,
The kindling lustre of an eye;
Who but owns their magic sway?
Who but knows they all decay!
The tender thrill, the pitying tear,
The gen'rous purpose, nobly dear,
The gentle look, that rage disarms--
These are all immortal charms.

* * * * *




CLXXIV.

GLOOMY DECEMBER.

Tune--"_Wandering Willie. _"

[These verses were, it is said, inspired by Clarinda, and must be
taken as a record of his feelings at parting with one dear to him in
the last moment of existence--the Mrs. Mac of many a toast, both in
serious and festive hours. ]


I.