No More Learning

* * * * *




LIII.

TO DR. MAXWELL,

ON JESSIE STAIG'S RECOVERY.

[Maxwell was a skilful physician; and Jessie Staig, the Provost's
oldest daughter, was a young lady of great beauty: she died early. ]


Maxwell, if merit here you crave
That merit I deny,
You save fair Jessie from the grave--
An angel could not die.

* * * * *




LIV.

EPITAPH.

[These lines were traced by the hand of Burns on a goblet belonging to
Gabriel Richardson, brewer, in Dumfries: it is carefully preserved in
the family. ]


Here brewer Gabriel's fire's extinct,
And empty all his barrels:
He's blest--if, as he brew'd, he drink--
In upright virtuous morals.

* * * * *




LV.

EPITAPH

ON WILLIAM NICOL.

[Nicol was a scholar, of ready and rough wit, who loved a joke and a
gill. ]


Ye maggots, feast on Nicol's brain,
For few sic feasts ye've gotten;
And fix your claws in Nicol's heart,
For deil a bit o't's rotten.

* * * * *




LVI.

ON THE DEATH OF A LAP-DOG,

NAMED ECHO.
[When visiting with Syme at Kenmore Castle, Burns wrote this Epitaph,
rather reluctantly, it is said, at the request of the lady of the
house, in honour of her lap dog. ]


In wood and wild, ye warbling throng,
Your heavy loss deplore;
Now half extinct your powers of song,
Sweet Echo is no more.

Ye jarring, screeching things around,
Scream your discordant joys;
Now half your din of tuneless sound
With Echo silent lies.

* * * * *




LVII.

ON A NOTED COXCOMB.

[Neither Ayr, Edinburgh, nor Dumfries have contested the honour of
producing the person on whom these lines were written:--coxcombs are
the growth of all districts. ]


Light lay the earth on Willy's breast,
His chicken-heart so tender;
But build a castle on his head,
His skull will prop it under.

* * * * *




LVIII.

ON SEEING THE BEAUTIFUL SEAT OF

LORD GALLOWAY.

[This, and the three succeeding Epigrams, are hasty squibs thrown amid
the tumult of a contested election, and must not be taken as the fixed
and deliberate sentiments of the poet, regarding an ancient and noble
house. ]


What dost thou in that mansion fair? --
Flit, Galloway, and find
Some narrow, dirty, dungeon cave,
The picture of thy mind!

* * * * *




LIX.

ON THE SAME.


No Stewart art thou, Galloway,
The Stewarts all were brave;
Besides, the Stewarts were but fools,
Not one of them a knave.

* * * * *




LX.