No More Learning

Then from his lordship I shall learn,
Henceforth to meet with unconcern
One rank as weel's another;
Nae honest worthy man need care
To meet with noble youthful Daer,
For he but meets a brother.

* * * * *




LXIX.

ADDRESS TO EDINBURGH.

["I enclose you two poems," said Burns to his friend Chalmers, "which
I have carded and spun since I passed Glenbuck. One blank in the
Address to Edinburgh, 'Fair B----,' is the heavenly Miss Burnet,
daughter to Lord Monboddo, at whose house I have had the honour to be
more than once. There has not been anything nearly like her, in all
the combinations of beauty, grace, and goodness the great Creator has
formed, since Milton's Eve, on the first day of her existence. " Lord
Monboddo made himself ridiculous by his speculations on human nature,
and acceptable by his kindly manners and suppers in the manner of the
ancients, where his viands were spread under ambrosial lights, and his
Falernian was wreathed with flowers. At these suppers Burns sometimes
made his appearance. The "Address" was first printed in the Edinburgh
edition: the poet's hopes were then high, and his compliments, both to
town and people, were elegant and happy. ]


I.

Edina! Scotia's darling seat!
All hail thy palaces and tow'rs,
Where once beneath a monarch's feet
Sat Legislation's sov'reign pow'rs!
From marking wildly-scatter'd flow'rs,
As on the banks of Ayr I stray'd,
And singing, lone, the ling'ring hours,
I shelter in thy honour'd shade.

II.
Here wealth still swells the golden tide,
As busy Trade his labour plies;
There Architecture's noble pride
Bids elegance and splendour rise;
Here Justice, from her native skies,
High wields her balance and her rod;
There Learning, with his eagle eyes,
Seeks Science in her coy abode.

III.

Thy sons, Edina! social, kind,
With open arms the stranger hail;
Their views enlarg'd, their liberal mind,
Above the narrow, rural vale;
Attentive still to sorrow's wail,
Or modest merit's silent claim;
And never may their sources fail!
And never envy blot their name!

IV.

Thy daughters bright thy walks adorn,
Gay as the gilded summer sky,
Sweet as the dewy milk-white thorn,
Dear as the raptur'd thrill of joy!
Fair Burnet strikes th' adoring eye,
Heav'n's beauties on my fancy shine;
I see the Sire of Love on high,
And own his work indeed divine!

V.

There, watching high the least alarms,
Thy rough, rude fortress gleams afar,
Like some bold vet'ran, gray in arms,
And mark'd with many a seamy scar:
The pond'rous wall and massy bar,
Grim-rising o'er the rugged rock,
Have oft withstood assailing war,
And oft repell'd th' invader's shock.

VI.

With awe-struck thought, and pitying tears,
I view that noble, stately dome,
Where Scotia's kings of other years,
Fam'd heroes! had their royal home:
Alas, how chang'd the times to come!
Their royal name low in the dust!
Their hapless race wild-wand'ring roam,
Tho' rigid law cries out, 'twas just!

VII.