No More Learning

Is th' wish o' mony mae than me;
He had twa fauts, or may be three,
Yet what remead?
Ae social, honest man want we:
Tam Samson's dead!

* * * * *

EPITAPH.

Tam Samson's weel-worn clay here lies,
Ye canting zealots spare him!
If honest worth in heaven rise,
Ye'll mend or ye win near him.

* * * * *

PER CONTRA.

Go, Fame, an' canter like a filly
Thro' a' the streets an' neuks o' Killie,
Tell ev'ry social honest billie
To cease his grievin',
For yet, unskaith'd by death's gleg gullie,
Tam Samson's livin'.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 49: When this worthy old sportsman went out last muirfowl
season, he supposed it was to be, in Ossian's phrase, "the last of his
fields. "]

[Footnote 50: A preacher, a great favourite with the million. _Vide_
the Ordination, stanza II]

[Footnote 51: Another preacher, an equal favourite with the few, who
was at that time ailing. For him see also the Ordination, stanza IX. ]

* * * * *




XLI.

LAMENT,

OCCASIONED BY THE UNFORTUNATE ISSUE

OF A

FRIEND'S AMOUR.

"Alas! how oft does goodness wound itself!
And sweet affection prove the spring of woe. "

HOME.

[The hero and heroine of this little mournful poem, were Robert Burns
and Jean Armour. "This was a most melancholy affair," says the poet in
his letter to Moore, "which I cannot yet bear to reflect on, and had
very nearly given me one or two of the principal qualifications for a
place among those who have lost the chart and mistaken the reckoning
of rationality. " Hogg and Motherwell, with an ignorance which is
easier to laugh at than account for, say this Poem was "written on the
occasion of Alexander Cunningham's darling sweetheart alighting him
and marrying another:--she acted a wise part. " With what care they had
read the great poet whom they jointly edited in is needless to say:
and how they could read the last two lines of the third verse and
commend the lady's wisdom for slighting her lover, seems a problem
which defies definition. This mistake was pointed out by a friend, and
corrected in a second issue of the volume. ]


I.

O thou pale orb, that silent shines,
While care-untroubled mortals sleep!
Thou seest a wretch who inly pines,
And wanders here to wail and weep!
With woe I nightly vigils keep,
Beneath thy wan, unwarming beam,
And mourn, in lamentation deep,
How life and love are all a dream.

II.

A joyless view thy rays adorn
The faintly marked distant hill:
I joyless view thy trembling horn,
Reflected in the gurgling rill:
My fondly-fluttering heart, be still:
Thou busy pow'r, Remembrance, cease!
Ah! must the agonizing thrill
For ever bar returning peace!

III.