[How fou Bartie was we must leave the men of Kyle to tell it seems a proverbial saying, and may be interpreted by a line of an old song

"I'm no just fou, but I'm gayley yet." The original MS. is preserved in the Paisley Library.]

[When the Board of Excise informed Burns that his business was to act, and not to think, he read the order to a friend, turned the paper, and wrote what he called the "Creed of Poverty."]

["That Burns sympathised with the lovers of liberty in the first out-bursts of the French Revolution, these verses,

as well as others, sufficiently testify. That freedom was darkening down into despotism in France he lived partly to see; nor was his muse silent in support of order and independence in his native land.-CUNNINGHAM.]

[Some one said to Burns that he saw falsehood in a certain Rev. Doctor B.'s very looks; the Poet considered for a moment, and gave his answer in this epigram.]

[The first time that Burns rode up Nithside, after the death of his friend of Friar's Carse, he gave a boy his horse to hold, went into the hermitage in the wood, threw himself on a seat, and remained for a full half hour. These lines were traced on the window of the hermitage by the diamond of Burns.]

LVIII. Verses

The next in succession, I'll give you—the King! Whoe'er would betray him, on high may he

swing! [tion, And here's the grand fabric, our free ConstituAs built on the base of the great Revolution; And longer with politics not to be cramm'd, Be Anarchy curs'd, and be Tyranny damn'd; And who would to Liberty e'er prove disloyal, May his son be a hangman, & he his first trial!*

LV.

ON A

[Burns was called upon for a song at a dinner of the Dumfries volunteers, in honour of Rodney's victory of the 12th of April, 1782, he replied to the call by reciting the above lines.]

[This personage was landlord of a respectable publichouse in Dumfries, which Burns frequented; in a place where two names abound, he obtained that of the Marquis; and the little court or alley where his change-house stood is still called "The Marquis's Close." In a moment when vanity prevailed against prudence, he desired Burns to write his epitaph. He did it at once-little to the pleasure of the landlord.]

[The origin of these lines is curious and accidental.

WRITTEN ON A WINDOW OF THE GLOBE
TAVERN, DUMFRIES.

THE greybeard, old Wisdom, may boast of his
treasures,
[sures,

Give me with gay Folly to live; I grant him calm-blooded, time-settled pleaBut Folly has raptures to give. §

LIX.

Invitation to a Medical Gentleman,

TO ATTEND

A MASONIC ANNIVERSARY MEETING.

FRIDAY first's the day appointed,
By our Right Worshipful anointed,
To hold our grand procession!
To get a blade o' Johnnie's morals,
And taste a swatch o' Manson's barrels,
I' the way of our profession.
Our Master and the Brotherhood
Wad a' be glad to see you;
For me I would be mair than proud
To share the mercies wi' you.

If death, then, wi' scaith, then,
Some mortal heart is hechtin,
Inform him, and storm || him,
That Saturday ye'll fecht him.
ROBERT BURNS.

LX.

I MURDER hate, by field or flood, Tho' glory's name may screen us; In wars at hame I'll spend my blood, Life-giving wars of Venus.

The deities that I adore,

Are social peace and plenty; I'm better pleas'd to make one more, Than be the death o' twenty.

LXI.

MY bottle is my holy pool,

That heals the wounds o' care an' dool; And pleasure is a wanton trout,

An' ye drink it dry, ye'll find him out.

One day, while in the King's Arms Tavern, Dumfries, Burns overheard a country gentleman talking wittily rather than wisely concerning excisemen: the Poet went to a window, and on one of the panes wrote this Rebuke with his diamond. It was taken in good part, as indeed it could not well be otherwise, and remained long on the window an attraction to travellers.]

[The Poet ever looked widely abroad; he took no narrowsouled views of anything; he saw that even in the company of folly a wise man might sit down and be edified. "Out of the nettle danger he could pluck the flower safety." There was no hypocrisy or cant in his composition.] That is, threaten him.

LXII. The Selkirk Grace. SOME hae meat, and canna eat, And some wad eat that want it; But we hae meat and we can eat, And sae the Lord be thankit."

LXIII. Innocence.

Innocence

Looks gaily-smiling on; while rosy pleasure Hides young desire amid her flowery wreath, And pours her cup luxuriant: mantling high The sparkling heavenly vintage, Love and Bliss!

[The above exquisite lines appear in Cromek's "Reliques of Burns," and also in the "Letters to Clarinda." The original is in the handwriting of the Poet.]

LXIV.

On the Poet's Daughter.
HERE lies a rose, a budding rose,
Blasted before its bloom:
Whose innocence did sweets disclose
Beyond that flower's perfume.

To those who for her loss are griev'd,
This consolation's given-
She's from a world of woe reliev'd,
And blooms a rose in Heaven. †

LXV.

On Gabriel Richardson,

BREWER, DUMFRIES.

HERE brewer Gabriel's fire's extinct,
And empty all his barrels:

He's blest-if, as he brew'd, he drink-
In upright honest morals.

LXVI.

On the Death of a Lap-Dog,

NAMED ECHO.

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

[On a visit to St. Mary's Isle, the Earl of Selkirk requested Burns to say grace at dinner. These were the words he uttered-they were applauded then, and have since been known in Galloway by the name of The Selkirk Grace."]

[These tender and affecting lines were written on the death of the Poet's daughter, who died in the autumn of -795. "The autumn," says he, in a letter to Mrs. Dunlop, "robbed me of my only daughter and darling child; and that at a distance too, and so rapidly as to put it out of my power to pay the last duties to her." He loved the child dearly, and mourned her loss with many tears. His own health was also giving way at this time.]

[These lines were written on a goblet still preserved in the family. At Gabriel's hospitable table Burns spent many plea

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

LXVII.

On seeing the beautiful Seat of

LORD GALLOWAY.

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

LXVIII.

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.

LXIX.

On the Same.

BRIGHT ran thy line, O Galloway,
Thro' many a far-fam'd sire!
So ran the far-fam'd Roman way,
So ended-in a mire!

LXX.

To the Same,

ON THE AUTHOR BEING THREATENED WITH

HIS RESENTMENT.

SPARE me thy vengeance, Galloway,

In quiet let me live:

I ask no kindness at thy hand,
For thou hast none to give.

LXXI.

On a Country Laird.

BLESS the Redeemer, Cardoness,
With grateful lifted eyes,
Who said that not the soul alone,

But body too, must rise;

sant hours. His son, Dr. Richardson, the distinguished traveller, said the last mark of civilization which he found on his expedition to the north, was poetry-and that by Burns.]

[Burns wrote these lines at Kenmore Castle, an ancient seat of the Gordons. It happened that Mrs. Gordon's lap, dog died on the day of the Poet's arrival. She requested an epitaph for him. "This," says Syme, "was setting Hercules to his distaff; he disliked the subject, but to please the lady he would try."]

[These sharp squibs were launched against the house of Galloway, during the Heron contest. Though "the Stewart" at first felt offended, he smiled, it is said, when he considered how wayward the muse is, and how hot even the calmest grows during an election.]

[The hero of these merciless verses was, it is said, a very worthy person, Sir David Maxwell, of Cardoness, who had offended the Poet in the heat of the Heron election. What the offence was has not been stated; but contradiction is enough in election matters, when the wisest men justify the sarcasm of the Frenchman, that the British go stark mad every seven years.]

[He was a good lawyer, keen, acute, fertile in expedients, and full of resources in all pressing emergencies. The peasantry, who hate all stirring attorneys, regarded him with much malevolence; and, as he crossed the Poet in the thorny path of politics, it was reckoned a service rendered the cause of virtue when Burns lampooned him. It is said that as he lay on his death-bed, knock followed knock at his door, and creditor succeeded creditor so fast, demanding money, that the sinking man turned his face sullenly away, and muttered, "They winna let me die, by God!"]

["A melancholy person of the name of Glendinning hav ing taken away his own life was interred at a place called The Old Chapel,' close beside Dumfries. Dr. Copland Hutchison happened to be walking out that way; he saw Burns with his foot on the grave, his hat on his knee, and paper laid on his hat, on which he was writing. He then took the paper, and thrust it with his finger into the red mould of the grave, and went away. This was the above

epigram, and such was the Poet's mode of publishing it.”— ALLAN CUNNINGHAM.]

[During the last illness of the Poet, Mr. Brown, the surgeon who attended him, came in, and stated that he had been looking at a collection of wild beasts just arrived, and, pulling out the list of the animals, held it out to Jessy Lewars. The Poet snatched it from him, took up a pen, and with red ink wrote the above verses on the back of the paper, saying, "Now it is fit to be presented to a lady." This precious relique is still in her possession.]

[One day while the Poet was much indisposed, he observed Jessy Lewars moving, with a light foot, about the house, lest she should disturb him. He took up a crystal goblet containing wine and water for moistening his lips, wrote "The Toast" upon it with a diamond, and presented it to her. "She was, says Gilbert Burns, "a deservedly great favourite of the Poet and a soothing friend to Mrs. Burns at the time of his death."]

[The constancy of her attendance and the anxiety of her mind made Jessy Lewars suffer a slight indisposition. "You must not die yet," said the Poet with a smile; "however, I shall provide for the worst. Give me that goblet, and I'll write your epitaph." He wrote these four lines with his diamond, and, presenting the goblet, said, “That will be a companion to 'The Toast.'"']