No More Learning

* * * * *




LXII.

ON A COUNTRY LAIRD.

[Mr. Maxwell, of Cardoness, afterwards Sir David, exposed himself to
the rhyming wrath of Burns, by his activity in the contested elections
of Heron. ]


Bless Jesus Christ, O Cardoness,
With grateful lifted eyes,
Who said that not the soul alone
But body too, must rise:
For had he said, "the soul alone
From death I will deliver;"
Alas! alas! O Cardoness,
Then thou hadst slept for ever.

* * * * *




LXIII.

ON JOHN BUSHBY.

[Burns, in his harshest lampoons, always admitted the talents of
Bushby: the peasantry, who hate all clever attorneys, loved to handle
his character with unsparing severity. ]


Here lies John Bushby, honest man!
Cheat him, Devil, gin ye can.

* * * * *




LXIV.

THE TRUE LOYAL NATIVES.

[At a dinner-party, where politics ran high, lines signed by men who
called themselves the true loyal natives of Dumfries, were handed to
Burns: he took a pencil, and at once wrote this reply.
]


Ye true "Loyal Natives," attend to my song,
In uproar and riot rejoice the night long;
From envy or hatred your corps is exempt,
But where is your shield from the darts of contempt?

* * * * *




LXV.

ON A SUICIDE.

[Burns was observed by my friend, Dr. Copland Hutchinson, to fix, one
morning, a bit of paper on the grave of a person who had committed
suicide: on the paper these lines were pencilled. ]


Earth'd up here lies an imp o' hell,
Planted by Satan's dibble--
Poor silly wretch, he's damn'd himsel'
To save the Lord the trouble.

* * * * *




LXVI.

EXTEMPORE

PINNED ON A LADY'S COUCH.

["Printed," says Sir Harris Nicolas, "from a copy in Burns's
handwriting," a slight alteration in the last line is made from an
oral version. ]


If you rattle along like your mistress's tongue,
Your speed will outrival the dart:
But, a fly for your load, you'll break down on the road
If your stuff has the rot, like her heart.

* * * * *




LXVII.

LINES

TO JOHN RANKINE.

[These lines were said to have been written by the poet to Rankine, of
Adamhill, with orders to forward them when he died. ]


He who of Rankine sang lies stiff and dead,
And a green grassy hillock hides his head;
Alas! alas! a devilish change indeed.