]
Curs'd be the man, the poorest wretch in life,
The crouching vassal to the tyrant wife!
Curs'd be the man, the poorest wretch in life,
The crouching vassal to the tyrant wife!
Robert Burns
* * * * *
XXI.
LINES
WRITTEN UNDER THE PICTURE OF THE CELEBRATED MISS BURNS.
[The Miss Burns of these lines was well known in those days to the
bucks of the Scottish metropolis: there is still a letter by the poet,
claiming from the magistrates of Edinburgh a liberal interpretation of
the laws of social morality, in belief of his fair namesake. ]
Cease, ye prudes, your envious railings,
Lovely Burns has charms--confess:
True it is, she had one failing--
Had a woman ever less?
* * * * *
XXII.
EXTEMPORE IN THE COURT OF SESSION.
[These portraits are strongly coloured with the partialities of the
poet: Dundas had offended his pride, Erskine had pleased his vanity;
and as he felt he spoke. ]
LORD ADVOCATE.
He clench'd his pamphlets in his fist,
He quoted and he hinted,
'Till in a declamation-mist
His argument he tint it:
He gaped for't, he grap'd for't,
He fand it was awa, man;
But what his common sense came short
He eked out wi' law, man.
MR. ERSKINE.
Collected Harry stood awee,
Then open'd out his arm, man:
His lordship sat wi' rueful e'e,
And ey'd the gathering storm, man;
Like wind-driv'n hail it did assail,
Or torrents owre a linn, man;
The Bench sae wise lift up their eyes,
Half-wauken'd wi' the din, man.
* * * * *
XXIII.
THE HENPECKED HUSBAND.
[A lady who expressed herself with incivility about her husband's
potations with Burns, was rewarded by these sharp lines.
]
Curs'd be the man, the poorest wretch in life,
The crouching vassal to the tyrant wife!
Who has no will but by her high permission;
Who has not sixpence but in her possession;
Who must to her his dear friend's secret tell;
Who dreads a curtain lecture worse than hell!
Were such the wife had fallen to my part,
I'd break her spirit, or I'd break her heart;
I'd charm her with the magic of a switch,
I'd kiss her maids, and kick the perverse b----h.
* * * * *
XXIV.
WRITTEN AT INVERARY.
[Neglected at the inn of Inverary, on account of the presence of some
northern chiefs, and overlooked by his Grace of Argyll, the poet let
loose his wrath and his rhyme: tradition speaks of a pursuit which
took place on the part of the Campbell, when he was told of his
mistake, and of a resolution not to be soothed on the part of the
bard. ]
Whoe'er he be that sojourns here,
I pity much his case,
Unless he's come to wait upon
The Lord their God, his Grace.
There's naething here but Highland pride
And Highland cauld and hunger;
If Providence has sent me here,
T'was surely in his anger.
* * * * *
XXV.
ON ELPHINSTON'S TRANSLATIONS.
OF
MARTIAL'S EPIGRAMS.
[Burns thus relates the origin of this sally:--"Stopping at a
merchant's shop in Edinburgh, a friend of mine one day put
Elphinston's Translation of Martial into my hand, and desired my
opinion of it. I asked permission to write my opinion on a blank leaf
of the book; which being granted, I wrote this epigram. "]
O thou, whom poesy abhors,
Whom prose has turned out of doors,
Heard'st thou that groan? proceed no further;
'Twas laurell'd Martial roaring murther!
* * * * *
XXVI.