No More Learning

I doubt na, lass, that weel kenn'd name
May cost a pair o' blushes;
I am nae stranger to your fame,
Nor his warm urged wishes.
Your bonnie face sae mild and sweet
His honest heart enamours,
And faith ye'll no be lost a whit,
Tho' waired on Willie Chalmers.

III.

Auld Truth hersel' might swear ye're fair,
And Honour safely back her,
And Modesty assume your air,
And ne'er a ane mistak' her:
And sic twa love-inspiring een
Might fire even holy Palmers;
Nae wonder then they've fatal been
To honest Willie Chalmers.

IV.

I doubt na fortune may you shore
Some mim-mou'd pouthered priestie,
Fu' lifted up wi' Hebrew lore,
And band upon his breastie:
But Oh! what signifies to you
His lexicons and grammars;
The feeling heart's the royal blue,
And that's wi' Willie Chalmers.

V.

Some gapin' glowrin' countra laird,
May warstle for your favour;
May claw his lug, and straik his beard,
And hoast up some palaver.
My bonnie maid, before ye wed
Sic clumsy-witted hammers,
Seek Heaven for help, and barefit skelp
Awa' wi' Willie Chalmers.

VI.

Forgive the Bard! my fond regard
For ane that shares my bosom,
Inspires my muse to gie 'm his dues,
For de'il a hair I roose him.
May powers aboon unite you soon,
And fructify your amours,--
And every year come in mair dear
To you and Willie Chalmers.

* * * * *




LIX.
LYING AT A REVEREND FRIEND'S HOUSE ON NIGHT,

THE AUTHOR LEFT THE FOLLOWING

VERSES

IN THE ROOM WHERE HE SLEPT.

[Of the origin of those verses Gilbert Burns gives the following
account. "The first time Robert heard the spinet played was at the house
of Dr. Lawrie, then minister of Loudon, now in Glasgow. Dr. Lawrie has
several daughters; one of them played; the father and the mother led
down the dance; the rest of the sisters, the brother, the poet and the
other guests mixed in it. It was a delightful family scene for our poet,
then lately introduced to the world; his mind was roused to a poetic
enthusiasm, and the stanzas were left in the room where he slept. "]


I.

O thou dread Power, who reign'st above!
I know thou wilt me hear,
When for this scene of peace and love
I make my prayer sincere.

II.

The hoary sire--the mortal stroke,
Long, long, be pleased to spare;
To bless his filial little flock
And show what good men are.

III.

She who her lovely offspring eyes
With tender hopes and fears,
O, bless her with a mother's joys,
But spare a mother's tears!

IV.

Their hope--their stay--their darling youth,
In manhood's dawning blush--
Bless him, thou GOD of love and truth,
Up to a parent's wish!